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astrofaeology · 28 days ago

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Saturn in Aries

predictions for each Rising

paid readings | Masterlist

ᡣ𐭩 Please support me by reposting, liking, following me. From the 25th of May 2025 to September 1st 2025 (where saturn will station in mercury retrograde) and will become direct once again 27 November 2025, till the 13th of April 2025.

With saturn in aries, saturn will force you to build new foundations, and confronting fears related to independence and bold action. This period will challenge us to be more accountable for our individual drives and to find a mature balance between initiating new ventures and ensuring their long-term viability. Expect to learn valuable lessons about leadership, self-reliance, and the true cost of pioneering new paths.

Aries Rising - Saturn's transit through your first house of self and identity will be a profound period of redefinition. You may feel a significant pressure to solidify who you are, potentially leading to an "identity crisis" as old ways of being are challenged. This is a powerful time for self-mastery and reinvention, as Saturn encourages you to take responsibility for your life and build a more solid foundation for your future self. You'll learn to balance impulsivity with patience and strategic action, leading to a new, mature confidence. If you were born with Saturn in Aries, this is your Saturn Return, a pivotal period of adulting and making firm commitments.

Taurus Rising - will experience Saturn's influence in your twelfth house of the subconscious and hidden matters. This transit encourages deep spiritual growth and healing, calling you to go inward and confront your shadow side. Old patterns of escapism or avoidance may come to the surface, demanding to be addressed. While this can be a solitary period, it offers a chance to release fears and build a strong spiritual practice. By the end of this transit, you can emerge feeling more whole and ready to spread your "new, healed wings."

Gemini Rising - Saturn will be in your eleventh house of friendships, community, and aspirations. Your social circles and group connections may undergo a significant review, with some relationships feeling strained or karmic. You may need to prune your social circle, choosing quality over quantity. This is a time to solidify your long-term goals and choose meaningful alliances. You might be called to leadership within groups, taking on more responsibility. By releasing unhealthy connections, you make room for those who truly support your aspirations.

Cancer Rising - will feel Saturn's weight in your tenth house of career, public image, and destiny. You may feel intense pressure to succeed professionally, and recognition might not come as easily as you hoped, with every misstep feeling public. The road to achieving your goals might be steep and solitary, with delays feeling like failures. However, this is an excellent period for career advancement and building a solid reputation. If you're willing to play the long game, what you build now can define you for decades. You'll learn to take responsibility for your ambitions and step into leadership roles, even if it requires hard work and patience.

Leo Rising - will experience Saturn in your ninth house of higher learning, travel, and belief systems. Your beliefs may be challenged, and previous worldviews might crumble, possibly through disappointing teachers or systems. The way forward might not be obvious, and traditional avenues of expansion may feel restricted. However, your greatest growth will come through broadening your horizons. This is an excellent time to pursue advanced degrees or engage in structured learning. You'll learn what it truly costs to live your truth and build a more resilient and meaningful philosophy of life.

Virgo Rising - Saturn transits your eighth house of shared resources, intimacy, and transformation. This is a period for getting your financial house in order, with issues around taxes, wills, insurance, and inheritances potentially requiring your attention. You'll be encouraged to confront your relationship with vulnerability and power dynamics in intimate connections. This transit offers a chance for deep financial restructuring and psychological healing. By addressing these areas, you can set yourself up for a more secure future and develop a healthier approach to shared resources and intimacy, learning to navigate complex emotional and financial territories with maturity.

Libra Rising - Saturn in your seventh house of partnerships and relationships. Your one-on-one connections will be highlighted, and you'll be asked to consider the health and responsibility within them. You may face challenges in finding true reciprocity and give-and-take, with discussions around commitment and boundaries becoming intense. However, this is a time to build more committed and dependable partnerships. You'll learn to establish clearer boundaries and ensure your relationships are balanced. You'll seek long-term stability and won't be interested in casual connections, leading to deeper, more mature bonds.

Scorpio Rising - Saturn moves into your sixth house of health, daily routines, and service. You may feel pressure to restructure your daily life and become more disciplined with your health and routines, potentially involving addressing long-standing habits. Work responsibilities might increase, or you may face challenges in your work environment. This transit provides an opportunity to build healthier habits and a more organized daily life. You can become more efficient and productive in your work. It's a time to take responsibility for your well-being and establish sustainable routines that support your goals.

Saggiatrius Rising - will experience Saturn in your fifth house of creativity, self-expression, and joy. You might struggle to find time for hobbies, dating, or creative pursuits, and your sexual energy may be lower. There could be delays or challenges related to children, and joy might feel risky, with creative expression feeling blocked or like hard work. However, Saturn in Aries encourages you to develop a more mature relationship with joy and creativity. You're asked to create and love without expecting instant gratification. This is a time to carve out dedicated time for what truly brings you fulfillment and to be disciplined in your creative endeavors, leading to more lasting and meaningful expressions.

Capricorn Rising - Saturn transits your fourth house of home, family, and foundations. You may face increased responsibilities within your family, potentially needing to care for aging family members or deal with structural issues in your home. Some Capricorns might move to a longer-term home, which could come with its own set of challenges. This transit helps you solidify your home base and family foundations. You can create a more stable and secure living environment. It's a time to embrace your responsibilities within your family, leading to a deeper sense of belonging and inner security.

Aquarius Rising - will have Saturn in your third house of communication, learning, and local community. Communication might feel like a battlefield, and you may struggle to express yourself without being too blunt or moving too fast. Relationships with siblings or neighbors could become sources of stress. You're being asked to pause before speaking and to listen more effectively. This is a period to refine your communication skills and take your mental health seriously. You'll become more assured in your educational, writing, and public speaking abilities, and you can form deeper connections within your local community by practicing thoughtful and disciplined communication.

Pisces Rising - For Pisces rising, Saturn moves into your second house of personal finances, values, and self-worth. You may feel a strong urge to get your finances in order, pay off debts, or improve your credit score. You might initially feel a sense of scarcity, even if you are earning well. This transit encourages you to reconsider your outlook on wealth and self-worth. This is a prosperous cycle for establishing financial security, but it requires discipline and a reevaluation of your values. You'll learn to manage your resources more effectively and develop a stronger sense of self-respect and self-worth, leading to long-term financial stability.

DISCLAIMER: This post is a generalisation and may not resonate. I recommend you get a reading from an astrologer (me). If you want a reading from me check out my sales page.

#astr #astro observations #astroblr #astro community #astro notes #astrology #saturn in aries #aries #rising signs #rising

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jungkoode · 2 months ago

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ALTARS IN SHALLOW WATERS | 02

➔ PAIRING: Taehyung x Y/N (ballerina x stalker AU)

➔ MOODBOARD

➔ RATING: Mature, 18+, explicit themes and content.

➔ DATE POSTED: May 05, 2025.

➔ SUMMARY: Altars crumble faster in shallow water. But he still knelt like it was sacred. No one ever warned you that worship could look like love. Or that love could look like drowning.

➔ TAGS: second person perspective, female reader, ballerina!Y/N, stalker!taehyung, obsessive devotion, psychological tension, fixation, worship dynamics, Paris setting, religious imagery, voyeurism, sacred/profane dichotomy, slow burn, touch starvation, ritualistic behavior, gradual corruption, power dynamics, mirror imagery, water symbolism, sensory details, clean/unclean fixation, contamination OCD, professional dancer, self-destructive patterns, compulsive behavior, unhealthy coping mechanisms, possessive tendencies, praise addiction, spiritual yearning, toxic attraction, dangerous adoration, self-loathing, body discipline, mental health issues, self-harm, mental deterioration, unresolved sexual tension (for now).

➔ CONTENT in this chapter: self-demanding thoughts; perfectionism, self-critique, pushing oneself, expectations, dismissing praise, first encounter, lowkey sadistic streaks (lol you go girl), shaking, trembling, antisocial behaviors, anxiety, ocd, curiosity

➔ AUTHOR’S INTRO AND TRIGGER WARNINGS

➔ MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQ | WORDCOUNT: 3k

➔ A/N: So, fair warning, I know the aesthetic needs work, I know there’s no color but it’s 3AM and I pushed myself to post this because I have been writing and editing all night and I needed this bitch out or I wouldn’t allow myself to sleep (tragic). SO. Here’s my baby number 2. What can I say about this one, truly… I think you can really pin down OC’s personality in this one a lot better, bahahahahaha. I know what you guys were thinking when you saw stalker x ballerina, and I’m glad to twist your expectations completely and be like ‘yeah nope’. You’ll see how this develops but… Yeah I don’t know, I fucking love her. I adore the water imagery, I adore the nicknames I’ve given these two and I can’t fucking wait for you guys to see more. I also adore him, no lies told here. He’s so pathetic and reverent and ugh my heart combusts everytime I write him shaking (I am mentally unwell, we all know that). Anyways, no more yapping from me. Enjoy this monster. As always, I’ll be maniacally laughing while reading your unhinged comments. Mwah mwah mwah. 💕

➔ SERIES : PREVIOUS | NEXT

KIKI NATION’S DISCUSSION THREAD FOR THIS CHAPTER

PLAYLIST

Another twirl.

Your body knows the motion by heart—the sharp pivot, the snap of head and shoulders following a fraction of a second later, the correction of your core that comes automatically.

Another twirl.

The floor beneath you creaks, just slightly. Just enough to notice. Just enough to hate.

Another twirl. Another twirl. Another twirl.

It's not perfect. It's not enough.

Your ankle wobbles one-eighth of a centimeter on the landing. Invisible to anyone else. Glaring to you. You will never achieve perfection if you don't master a simple fucking twirl.

Another twirl.

Camille sneers from the barre. Her reflection catches yours between rotations—that twist of lips, that narrowing of eyes. It is ugly, really, that expression on her face. The way her mouth quirks down at the corner, the way her nostrils flare just slightly. You would feel anger at the derision in her mouth, but it is so exaggerated it's pitiful, really. So you deviate your gaze, focus on the mirror in front of you, and continue twirling.

Another.

The studio’s windows are streaked with last night's rain—Madame never allows the cleaning staff to touch them during rehearsal weeks. ‘Too distracting,’ she says. As if anything could distract you from the absolute necessity of this movement.

Your leotard cuts into your hip, just slightly. You'll have a mark there later. You don't adjust it. Discomfort is irrelevant.

"Excellent extension,” Madame calls your name from the front of the room.

Her voice is crisp, just as usual. You don't register it. Praise means adequate. It is what's expected of you. Expected and therefore unremarkable.

The rest of the company has moved on to petit batterie. You remain in your corner, working. They glance at you between jumps. You don't look back.

Madame calls your name again, and then says, "join the others, please."

You nod once.

You take your place at the back of the group, not out of modesty but because it gives you the clearest view of yourself in the mirror.

You need to see the mistakes before anyone else does.

Jean-Paul catches your eye in the reflection. Smiles. You don't smile back. His smile isn't for you—it's for the image of himself smiling at you. Everything he does is performance. You recognize it because you do the same.

The piano starts. Your body follows. Jump, land, repeat. Your muscles know the pattern. Your mind catalogs each moment, each placement of finger and toe. It's automatic, this dissection. This constant evaluation.

Madame walks among the dancers, making corrections, yet she never approaches you. That's not a compliment. It's simply acknowledgment that you'll fix your own flaws before she can identify them.

Elodie, in the front row, keeps glancing back at you. Her form is flawless as always, but you note how tense she is. How she always is around you.

She knows you're gaining on her. She's thirty next month. Ancient, in ballet years.

The combination ends. The pianist pauses.

"Let's try that again," Madame says. "And this time, perhaps with some actual musicality? We are artists, not robots."

She isn't looking at you when she says it, but you feel the words land anyway. You've been called mechanical before. Precise to a fault. It shouldn't bother you—precision is the foundation of excellence—but something in your chest tightens.

Water break.

The other dancers cluster by their bags, talking in low voices.

You stay at the barre, stretching.

Your hamstring protests. You push deeper into the stretch.

Madame beckons you. "A word, please."

You cross the room, spine straight, chin level. Your reflection follows you, a pale ghost in black cotton.

"Your fouettés are improving," she says.

It's not a compliment. It's a fact.

"Thank you, Madame."

"The company performs Ondine next season. I'm considering you for the lead."

Your face remains neutral. Your pulse does not.

Ondine. The water nymph who gains a soul through love, only to lose everything.

Not just a lead—the lead.

"I'll work harder," you say.

Madame's mouth twitches. Not quite a smile. "That would be inadvisable. You're already overtraining. Work smarter, not harder."

You nod, though you don't agree. There is no ‘smart’ way to excellence. There is only work. Endless, punishing work.

You turn back to the center, Ondine in your head.

You’ll research her later.

The piano begins again. You take your place. Your custom Freeds creak slightly—you'll need a new pair soon. This one has perhaps two more hours of life in it. You've already prepared the next pair, scoring the soles according to your usual pattern, crushing the box to your exact preference, sewing the ribbons in the specific formation that minimizes blisters on your Achilles.

Camille watches you from her place at the barre, her freckles barely visible beneath her foundation. She performs friendship whenever others are watching, but you've caught her moving your water bottle from your spot, just slightly, just to see what you do.

Collecting weaknesses like souvenirs.

It is pitiful.

She is pitiful.

You are not.

Another combination. Another chance to fail. Another chance to be slightly less imperfect than yesterday.

L'heure bleue.

The hour, however, is not currently blue. Hours don't hold colors in themselves. The name is pretentious, like most things in this city. But the fluorescent sign flickers that particular shade of navy that matches the rain-slicked streets outside, so perhaps there's some truth to it after all.

You catalog the store methodically. Four aisles. One register. Three security cameras—one broken, its red light permanently extinguished. The floor tiles are chipped at the corners.

Imperfect.

Everything is imperfect here.

Rain slides down the windows in precise rivulets. You've been caught in it twice today already. First during your morning commute, then during the three-minute walk from the studio to this convenience store. Your hair—still pulled back in its regulation bun—is damp at the edges. The slight discomfort of wet hair against your scalp is familiar. Almost comforting.

Better the rain, anyway. You need to understand water if you're going to embody it.

Ondine.

It sits in your chest, the role, like a stone dropped into deep water, heavy like an anchor pulling you under.

You can already hear the applause, see the perfect arc your body will make as you take your final bow.

Another performance. Another success. Another inevitability.

Your eyes move across the shelves with surgical precision. Land on the protein bars. The numbers flash in your mind automatically: 20 grams of protein, 180 calories, 4 grams of sugar.

Excessive.

Unnecessary.

You grimace.

The bar goes back exactly where you found it, aligned with the others. Your stomach tightens—from hunger or discipline, you're not sure there's a difference anymore.

Your bun pulls at your scalp, the slight sting a reminder of structure. Beauty is pain. Excellence is sacrifice. These are not platitudes but mathematical certainties. Input equals output. You have the equations memorized.

The oversized cardigan hangs past your hips, concealing the lines of your body. Leotard, tights, canvas shoes—not pointe shoes, never pointe shoes outside the studio. That would be blasphemous. Disrespectful to the craft. You'd sooner walk barefoot through Paris than subject your pointe shoes to the indignity of street grime.

You move through the aisles with the same deliberate placement of feet that you use in adagio. Heel, arch, toe. No wasted motion. No unnecessary steps.

The cosmetics section is in the back corner, poorly lit. You need cotton pads. The ones at home are nearly gone—three left, to be precise. Not enough for tomorrow morning's routine. You glance down, locate them on the bottom shelf.

Crouch.

A blur of motion interrupts your descent. Someone reaches—faster than you, more impulsive—and retrieves the package. Hands it to you without a word.

You note the gloves first. Latex. Clinical blue. Worn at the fingertips as if from constant scrubbing.

Then the downturned face, completely obscured by ashy, wavy hair that falls forward like a curtain.

You can't see his eyes. Can't see anything above the bridge of his nose. Just the curve of his mouth, pressed into a tight line. The shoulders hunched slightly forward. The careful distance he maintains—close enough to hand you the cotton, far enough that no part of him risks touching you.

"Thank you," you say.

Your voice sounds strange in the empty store.

Too formal. Too precise.

He doesn't respond verbally. Just nods once, a sharp downward jerk of his chin. His face remains tilted toward the floor, hidden behind that fall of unkempt hair.

You take the cotton pads. The package is slightly dented on one corner. Your eyebrows furrow before you can stop them.

The reaction is immediate. He snatches the package back, so quickly it startles you. For 2.5 seconds, you stand frozen, watching as he examines the shelf with frantic intensity. He selects another package—perfectly intact—and offers it to you with both hands, like a supplicant.

His fingers never touch yours during the exchange. It’s like the avoidance is intentional. Thought out.

You straighten, the pristine cotton pad package in hand. Consider saying something else. Decide against it. What would be the point? Social niceties are performances without purpose. At least on stage, the performance means something.

The rain continues its assault on the windows. You'll be soaked again on the walk back to your apartment. Your hair will frizz at the temples. Your canvas shoes will squelch with each step.

Bothersome.

You approach the register, mentally calculating how many steps it will take. It feels oddly hollow, this convenience store…

Empty except for the cashier—a pink-haired girl with three facial piercings who hasn't looked up from her phone once—and the strange man with the latex gloves.

Seven steps to the counter. You take them.

The cotton pads make a soft sound when you set them down. The cashier doesn't move.

"Excuse me."

Your voice is clipped. Necessary.

She looks up, blinks, then sets her phone down with visible reluctance. Scans the package. Names a price that you mentally note is 0.20€ higher than last month.

Inflation. Even cotton isn't immune to economic decay.

You reach for your wallet—left pocket of your cardigan, where it always is—and find nothing.

A blank space where certainty should be.

Your hand slides to the right pocket. Also empty.

You left it at the studio. The realization arrives without emotion, just a fact to be cataloged. An error to be logged.

You never make this kind of mistake.

(You made this kind of mistake.)

"I don't—" you begin, but stop.

The sentence is a dead end. Unnecessary.

You'll simply return the cotton pads to their shelf and come back tomorrow. It's inefficient, but not catastrophic. You have three pads at home, which is sufficient for one more morning routine. You'll adjust.

The pink-haired girl sighs. Her lower lip has a small sore where the ring passes through.

Before you can pick up the cotton pads, there's movement to your left.

The man with the gloves steps forward. Not close enough to crowd, but close enough that you register the height difference.

It is inevitable, catching the scent of something warm beneath the clinical sting of antiseptic—roasted chestnuts, perhaps. The kind sold in paper cones along the Seine in winter.

He keeps his head down, that curtain of fluffy hair obscuring his features. One gloved hand extends, placing exact change on the counter.

His fingers are long. Elegant, even in those hideous blue gloves. You notice a slight tremor as he pulls his hand back quickly—as if the proximity to the cashier might contaminate him somehow.

The money isn't for him. He hasn't bought anything. It's for your cotton pads.

"I don't need—" you begin, but he's already retreating, backing away from the counter, from you.

His shoulders curl forward. The blue latex of his gloves catches the fluorescent light, making his hands look bloodless. He steps backward, once, twice, eyes still fixed on the floor.

The cashier shrugs, takes the money. "Need a bag?"

You shake your head. No. More plastic waste for something so small would be absurd. Wasteful. Undisciplined.

The cotton pads are yours now, purchased by a stranger who won't look at you.

You should thank him. Social convention demands it. But when you turn, he's no longer beside you.

You scan the store, methodical. Not by the register. Not in the front aisle. You spot him in the back corner, methodically straightening items on a shelf. The motions almost beautiful in their devotion to order.

Three steps and you're close enough to speak without raising your voice.

"Thank you for the pads."

The words come out stiff. Clinical. Ridiculous, suddenly. Thank you for the pads. As if there's any meaning to the gesture beyond simple efficiency.

He freezes completely. His back to you, shoulders gone rigid. You can see the line of his spine through his oversized black shirt. Too thin. His belt has been cinched to the last hole and still hangs loose at his waist.

When he doesn't respond, you consider walking away. You've fulfilled the social obligation. Acknowledged the gesture. There's no reason to prolong this interaction.

But something stops you. Some strange, unquantifiable curiosity about this man who won't face you. Who performs small kindnesses while visibly shaking. Who wears medical gloves in a convenience store.

You wait for a response that doesn't come.

A drop of water falls from your hair onto your collarbone. Slides down beneath your leotard. The sensation is unwelcome and bothersome.

He remains perfectly still, as if movement might shatter something crucial. His breathing is shallow. Almost imperceptible.

You should leave now. The exchange is complete. The social obligation fulfilled.

Instead, you tilt your head slightly. Study the slope of his shoulders. The precise angle of his neck as he stares fixedly at the shelf before him. The way his gloved fingers press against his thigh in a rhythm you can't quite decode.

Something about him is... delicate. Like a blown glass figure one breath away from shattering.

A strange impulse seizes you. You want to see his face. Want to know if his features match the fragility of his posture. Want to understand why he refuses to meet your eyes.

You step to the side. Just slightly. Just enough that you might catch a glimpse of his profile.

His reaction is immediate—he turns away, keeping that curtain of washed-out hair between you. Maintaining his anonymity with surprising determination.

The motion is too deliberate to be coincidental—as if he's preserving something vital through this avoidance.

You find it... interesting.

Most men stare. They always have. Since you were thirteen and your body first began to take the shape that others found worth watching. Their gazes slide over you like oil—unpleasant but expected. A toll you pay for occupying space.

This man refuses to look at all. Refuses even to be seen himself.

The novelty of it sparks something in you. A flicker of curiosity. A desire to press just a little further.

"Why are you helping me?" The question is direct. Almost rude in its bluntness.

No response. Just that same rigid posture. The same careful avoidance.

The cashier calls from the front: "We're closing in five."

You should leave. The cotton pads are secured. The errand complete. There's no logical reason to remain.

You take one step back. Then another.

His shoulders lower by perhaps two millimeters. Relief.

Your eyes narrow. What a curious reaction to a simple retreat. As if your mere proximity causes him distress.

As you turn to go, something catches your eye. A small plastic employee badge clipped to his belt. Mostly obscured by his shirt, but partially visible now that he's shifted position.

The convenience store's logo. A name printed beneath it.

Kim.

That's all you can see from this angle. Just a single surname.

You file it away. A data point that shouldn't matter but somehow does.

Four more steps and you're at the door. The rain is still falling, harder now. Your shoes will be ruined.

At the threshold, some impulse you don't examine makes you pause. Turn back.

He's watching you now.

Not directly. Not obviously. But you can feel the weight of his gaze from across the store. Can see how he's angled just slightly in your direction, observing through that muted veil of hair.

When he realizes you've caught him, he jerks his head away. The movement is so abrupt it's almost violent. As if being caught looking is somehow worse than looking itself.

Something unfurls in your chest. Something you haven't felt before and therefore cannot name.

It feels like power, but softer. Like command, but quieter.

Like the moment in rehearsal when you know—absolutely know—that every eye in the room is fixed on the perfect arch of your foot.

You watch him a moment longer. Note how his hands have begun to shake more visibly. How his breathing has quickened. How he seems to be counting something under his breath—his lips moving in a silent rhythm.

Afraid. He's afraid. Of you.

The realization should make you uncomfortable. Should compel you to leave.

It doesn't.

Instead, you find yourself... intrigued. By his fear. By his avoidance. By the contradiction of a man who will pay for your purchases but won't meet your eyes.

He's like a puzzle with missing pieces. An equation that doesn't balance. A phrase of music that ends on an unexpected note.

And you…

You’ve always been intrigued by seemingly unsolvable problems.

As you push open the door, the bell above jingles—a cheerful, discordant note in the tense silence of the store. The sound makes him flinch, though it's difficult to tell if it's the suddenness or simply the fact that it marks your departure.

But you file the reaction away with everything else you’ve noticed about him. Building a catalog of responses. Creating a framework for understanding.

You step into the rain, cotton pads clutched in your pocket.

The water hits your face in cold droplets. Your shoes squelch with each step. Your hair grows heavier with accumulated moisture.

None of it matters.

What matters is tomorrow's rehearsal.

What matters is Ondine.

What matters is perfection.

What matters is, strangely, the image of his downturned face.

The graceful arc of his wrist as he straightened those bottles.

The way he was utterly aware of your presence.

It was beautiful—his fear; his distance.

It makes you wonder what would happen if you shattered it.

goal: 250 notes

taglist: @cannotalwaysbenight @taevescence @itstoastsworld @somehowukook @stutixmaru @chloepiccoliniii @kimnamjoonmiddletoe @annyeongbitch7 @mar-lo-pap @mikrokookiex @minniejim @curse-of-art @cristy-101 @mellyyyyyyx @rpwprpwprpwprw @billy-jeans23 @calmyourtitts7

no reposts, translations, or adaptations

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starry-eyedromantics · 1 month ago

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Kneel

A Loki fic

Summary: Your mission goes wrong when trying to detain Loki once and for all, leaving you in his path of his tricks and charm.

Pairing: Loki x reader

Word Count: 5.1k

Rating: Explicit [Minors DO NOT INTERACT]

Warnings: some violence, cussing, praise kink, oral, dirty smutty filthy Loki thoughts I had Saturday night🫣

A/n: Hello friends! First Loki fic I’ve ever written! I know I’m very late to write something for MCU especially about Loki but I had to write this!🫣 I don’t know where the inspo came from but the man has always been on my brain it seems. I mean… I wouldn’t mind kneeling for him😉 Please enjoy!

💫

Your hands trembled as you triple-checked your armor. You could get dressed in the dark and easily have all your armor on in a matter of seconds, but today was different. Today was the moment you put all your training to use.

After being on the front lines battling the Dark Elves for the last year, you came back to Asgard to fight something more powerful.

Loki.

You excelled in all your training, and your commanders noticed it. You didn’t think you were any more special, you just knew how to fight well and outsmart your opponent. Your commander said those skills were pivotal when facing Loki. Loki was the smartest of them all. He was a trickster after all. He used his power to deceive those around him, and he would always win. You felt you had a real shot at taking him down once and for all and putting him in his cage where he belongs.

With Thor on Earth fighting the Dark Elves that were causing havoc on that planet, Loki was causing his own mess here. Someone needed to step in and to try to control him. The tyranny that he was committing against Asgard was appalling. There was no stopping him and he was demanding everyone to do his bidding. Someone was bound to get hurt.

There was a team of twelve of you going to the palace where spies had their eyes on Loki's every move. They’ve been waiting for the right time for this siege, and with no telling when Thor might come back, it’s up to your regime to put a stop to him. At least for a little while.

The attack was simple. There were four different entrances into the throne room, where he enjoyed spending his time, so it was easy to get him cornered in there. Once in there, you had to attack quickly. There was no time for negotiations. He wasn’t exactly the type for a compromise.

Your heart pounded in your ears as you all closed in on the palace doors. Fighting foreign forces on other planets never made you this nervous, even though you were more likely to get wounded or killed in a big battle. This was a different game. You were facing a God. His power was unmatched and extremely unpredictable. They supplied you with a scepter, silver in color and sharp at the end, which could potentially fight off a God for a brief amount of time.

The door gets kicked in by your partner and all three of you rush in quickly, the thudding of your leather boots echo in the large throne room. The rest of your squad barges in and gets ten feet away from him, their scepters pointing right at him.

You see him sitting on the throne, looking amused at you all. He looks almost bothered, actually. Like you all had the audacity to bother him at this time of day. He sat there with his horned helmet on, shining in this low light. His legs were spread open sitting there, one arm resting lazily over the edge of the throne and the other tightly holding onto his scepter. He looked powerful. He was someone you didn’t want to be around regularly. His golden scepter was forged by the Gods, you can just tell the way it was crafted. It was made for him and could harness his power through it, you were sure of that.

For a moment, both of your eyes lock, and it does something abhorrent to you. Like you would do anything he asked of you. You liked how he was dangerous and unpredictable. He sizes everyone up, his eyes analyzing every person, and makes a mental note of how he’d like to take you down. For you in particular, he took his time, drinking in your figure in these tighter uniforms and making a mental note of how he wanted to take you down… in a very different way. Fuck the man was so dangerous.

Your hands readjust and try to refocus. You couldn’t spare an ounce of your focus to take him down. He’d use that to his advantage. You all practiced this. You all stepped forward in unison, making the circle tighter around him.

“You all are adorable. Is this supposed to scare me?” He scoffs with a smile on his face. He had this wicked smile, one that was devilish and so charming at the same time.

“We have direct orders from Odin to take you into our custody. If you do not comply, we will have to use force.”

He snickers again, “Oh, I’d love to see that happen. Dad sent you? That's pretty rude, he could have just asked to see me. I would have loved to see old dad-.”

“Stop talking!” You snap to make him shut up.

His piercing blue eyes dart directly at you. You suck in a breath as you can feel his anger waft through the room. He takes a few steps in your direction, the sharp, pointed scepter only inches away from him now.

“What’s did you say?” He protests.

“Don’t make another move!” You command, taking a few steps toward him too.

“Or what? You’re going to ‘hurt’ me with your pointy spears? My father really should have sent more menacing people to come and detain me, this is just pathetic,” he grumbles, going back to his throne.

“Yes, I will! Don’t move!” You command loudly.

Everyone gets closer to him and tightens the circle once again. You all are touching shoulders and keep your scepter pointed at him.

“Don’t make us hurt you,” the older squad member says, going up a few steps to where the throne sits. Your heart leaps out of your chest. He wasn’t supposed to make any impromptu decisions. He was supposed to stick to the plan! Anything can set Loki off.

“You bore me,” Loki says, and with a wave of his hand, your squad member hurls backward in a green energy blast. His body hits the hard stone violently and collapses face-first onto the floor. He doesn’t move, and you all look back at Loki with terror.

“Anyone else?” He smiles and stretches out his arm out, trying to be inviting. You don’t move a muscle and try to recalculate what you all should do. They did not prepare you for this type of unexpected tactic or how to handle each one of his powers. You didn’t think they knew all of Loki’s powers, so they couldn’t train you for all the unexpectedness. They assured you he was out of plays and would have to surrender to Odin sooner rather than later.

Another one of your squad members lunges on the side of Loki, and in the blink of an eye, his sector plunges into what looks like a projection of Loki on the throne. The hair on the back of your neck stands up, you have no idea where he’s disappeared. Everyone looks at each other stunned. You knew he could create illusions but you thought it would be obvious when he shifted into that image of himself.

You quickly turn around and he’s nowhere to be found. You start to turn to see if he’s moved somewhere else in the room but you can’t see him. You start to hear your squad members scream and gasp and suddenly hit the walls like the other man did.

You pivot back facing the throne and he’s sitting there bored. He somehow looks more menacing than when you first saw him with his horned helmet on and how he's eyeing you like prey.

“Any other moves you want to pull like these idiots?” He asks you. With a motion of his hand, the bodies on the floor teleport somewhere else.

The air felt still and cold as you both stared each other down in this empty room.

“Where have you taken them?” You demand, taking a few steps forward and realizing what a stupid decision that is. He laughs at you mockingly and doesn’t look at you.

“Answer me!” You snap.

His eyes shoot back into yours and they make you freeze.

“Must you ask so many questions! You should be thankful that I’ve spared you!”

“I’m not thanking you for anything. I have an order to take you in and that’s what I intend to do!”

You boldly move up the steps to the throne and point your scepter right in his face. Getting this close to him was a horrible decision. He was so alluring and you couldn’t pull your eyes away from him. You try to pull yourself together, trying not to let his charisma be the thing that gets you killed. You push the end of the spear at the bottom of his chin. He flashes another amused smile at you and cocks his head slightly when he looks at you.

“Is this any way to treat your king?” He dared.

“You are not the king! Odin is.”

“This is where I belong. I was born to lead. Odin is giving me his title and… taking a break,” he says menacingly.

“I do not serve you!” You scowl, pressing the spear at his neck.

He quickly rips the scepter from your hands and hurls it across the room. His hand wraps around your neck and he stands up, making you lock eyes with him.

“I really wasn’t planning on hurting you but with that snide comment, I might have to reconsider,” he says through his teeth. You scratch at his arm that’s holding you and gasp for air.

He leans in even closer and his chest heaves as he looks at you.

“I am your king. You will serve me and only me. You will kneel to me because I demand it,” he says scathingly.

Everything inside you tells you not to but you can’t fight him. One slight move and he can have you crumbling. But you’re not giving up that easily. You twist his arm quickly and kick his legs from underneath him. You use all your weight to pull him to the ground by his neck and the sound of his helmet thudding against the cold stone made you feel so powerful. You stand over him and try to catch your breath once again.

Something sinister glazes over his eyes as he lies there looking up at you. That look started out as anger, but slowly fizzled into intrigue as he realizes you’re standing there between his legs. He slowly sits up and looks at you hungrily, lust dripping off of his face. His lips were slightly parted, and his breathing was shallow. You feel a lump in your throat as you watch him look at you like this. No one has ever looked at you like this. It made you terrified and at the same time so weakened by his charm.

“You tricky devil, I didn’t see you doing that,” he says with a smirk.

That look on his face was becoming too much. You had to back away from him and gather your thoughts.

“Don’t underestimate me,” you seethe.

He slowly rises to his feet and towers over you. You felt so small in this moment compared to a second ago when you put him on his back.

“And don’t underestimate me,” he growls. “I said kneel for me.” He gets dangerously close to your face and makes your whole body shudder. Your heated gaze doesn’t falter as you can feel his anger and frustration come pouring out of him. You can’t breathe being this close to him and are doing a horrible job of how this man is affecting you.

He wraps his hand around your neck once more to get you to comply but your body deceives you, letting a small moan escape your lips. He looks intoxicated when he hears that small little sound come from your mouth. Your eyes blow wide and you look at him horrified.

“Oh… what a lovely sound you made for me. Seems you aren’t thinking about the mission anymore and want something else, hmm?” He whispers in your ear.

“No, I don’t want you, you’re evil,” you squeak out. It was so unconvincing. You sounded weak and pathetic.

“Mmm…” he hums low, deep in thought it seems, “Why don’t you say that to me on your knees?”

You scratch at his arm again and feel yourself wither at that notion.

He lets go of your throat and sits back down on his throne. His legs were spread and he looks so fucking irresistible.

“Kneel.” He commands once more.

You tremble at his voice and feel heat rush to your core. You silently curse at yourself for succumbing to him but loved how he made you feel. The moment you laid eyes on him you loved that electric spark that ran through you when you saw him looking at you. You were weaker than you could have ever imagined and failed this mission horribly.

Your knees slowly fell to the ground as he commanded eye contact the whole way down. You were sure he could hear your labored breaths and how you couldn’t obtain any control. Your eyes can’t help but drink him in, looking at every inch of him and seeing how he is perfection. He was made by the Gods, powerful and unyielding.

He groans softly at the sight in front of him and bites the inside of his cheek.

“Oh, so you can listen. Good, I thought I was going to have to make you,” he smirks.

“No, I can listen when I want to. And you don’t make me do anything. You’re much more powerful than I am, and I don’t want to die today.” You try to brush off.

“I’m sure that’s what it is. It wasn’t like when you first saw me you wanted to crumble to your knees for my mercy.”

You hold your breath and feel more heat rush to your core.

That’s exactly what I wanted.

“Come closer to me, then get back on your knees,” he instructs, using a come-hither motion with his finger.

You stand up and take another step in between his legs, bending down again to kneel before him. You look at how his cock is getting hard in his leather pants and forming a clear imprint of it running down his thigh. You find yourself biting your lip and imagining what that must feel like, giving you the most intense pleasure.

You shoot your eyes back up at him and he likes that you’re looking at him like this.

“Seems you have made me weak too. I shouldn’t like this as much but something about seeing you on your knees for me…” he groans, shifting in his seat uncomfortably.

“What… what was it?” You ask hesitantly, knowing he was going to make you come undone.

He licks his bottom lip and slowly slithers his hand down his thigh to adjust his fully hardened cock, bigger and longer than before. You tremble at the sight and an airy moan comes from your lips.

“I was thinking of all the ways I could ruin you right there on your knees and make you beg for more of it,” he says low, his hand slowly working his cock through his leather pants.

You felt your wetness pool and this unbearable ache growing in your core. The man had you right where he wanted you. Weak and unglued.

“Ruin me,” you whimper, barely able to be heard. A sly smile forms across his face and he stands up in front of you. He pulls his pants down enough where he can pull his cock out. You groan at the sight. Fuck he made you the most needy you’ve ever been and the way your body trembled when you looked at him was horrible. His hand held his cock at the base of it and slowly rubbed his hand along the long, veiny shaft. His head started to leak clear precum and all you wanted to do was taste him.

You look up at him with needy eyes and wait for his direction.

“Open your mouth, let me fuck you,” he commands. You feel your body get weaker and want to collapse on the floor but you pull yourself together, listening to him like you said you would.

You open your mouth and he pushes his length inside your mouth. The taste of his salty precum made your eyes roll back. Just the way he felt inside your mouth is pleasurable. He let out a loud groan and let his head fall back. That sound he made sent a shiver down your spine. You wanted him to keep making that sound. You were sure you’d come apart with that sound alone.

You take more of him in your mouth and suck and swirl your tongue around him. Your core throbs with need and crave his touch more than anything.

“Good girl," he purrs, "just like that,” he groans. His deep, gravelly voice makes you moan and the way he praises you… It does something criminal to you. His hips begin to move in short motions, taking himself deeper inside of you.

Your wetness continues to pool and you need to give yourself some friction or something to keep the throbbing subsided. You squeeze your thighs together and try to see if that helps any. It doesn’t do much and you still need more. You were sure he could feel how needy you are and how desperate you’re becoming. You take more of him in your mouth and it makes him cuss violently.

“Fuck you know just what to do, don’t you?,” he grovels. You feel his hand tangle in your hair and pull slightly. He was able to control how you were taking him now and made the most vulgar sounds when he hit the back of your throat. You moan as a response and continue to suck his cock, wanting him to come undone so badly.

Your hand carefully trails down to your pulsing bud and through your uniform, rubbing yourself and giving yourself some pleasure. You groan with him in your mouth and the feeling of your vibrating moan made him buck his length further into your mouth. You gag momentarily but try to keep going. Your fingers moved in the same pace you were taking his cock and it was driving you mad. It felt good, but not good enough.

You suddenly feel his hand tighten in your hair, pulling it hard. You groan helplessly and he pulls himself out of your mouth. Your eyes shoot up at him innocently and you try to see why he stopped.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He growls.

Your heart pounds out of your chest by his tone and your body freezes.

“N-nothing…” you say warily.

“What are your fingers doing then, hmm?” He says, looking down at you. Your cheeks turn red, and you don’t know what to say.

“I couldn’t help it, I’m sorry,” you whimper.

“Oh, you couldn’t help it… I’m sure… you need to be fucked by me that badly?” He asks.

You could melt into a puddle right now. Gods, the way he said that made you need him so terribly. You needed him to have his way with you and fulfill every last dark and dirty desire you had. You hadn’t felt pleasure in so long, he was bound to make you come undone in an instant.

“Please… I want you,” you beg.

He sits back in his throne with a smug look on his face. He pulls the rest of his pants down and tosses them off to the side of you. He pulls his tunic up to stay out of the way. You wanted to lick every inch of him. He was made to be worshipped.

“Show me.” He demands.

“What?” You tremble.

“Show me how bad you want me to fuck you. Show me with your hands.”

You swallow harshly at what he was asking of you and have no hesitation showing him what he wants to see.

“Can I stand up to take this off?” You ask him.

“Yes, then back on your knees.”

You stand up slowly, keeping eye contact, and you peel your armor off piece by piece. Your fingers unzip your uniform and wiggle your arms out of it. Once you have it off, you toss it to the side where his pants are too. You’re left in your bra and underwear and he looks like he could feast on you.

“Those off too,” he instructs.

Those eyes make you feel on fire. He wouldn’t take his eyes off you and watched your every move. You unclip your bra and pull it off you. The cool air makes your nipples hard and your whole body shivers. You pull your underwear down next and can’t look at him when you do this. You’re naked in front of him. A God. And he was drooling at the very sight of you.

You sink back down to your knees and stare at the floor as your fingers find your aching bud. You rub it in slow circles and hold back the whimper you wanted to make. You were sopping wet and were spilling down your thigh. Your breath becomes ragged and you feel your pleasure increase.

“No, look at me,” he demands.

Your eyes shoot straight up at him and you bite your lip when you see what he’s doing. He has his cock in his hand, slowly working his head and moving it along his shaft.

“Ohh,” you whimper as you watch him pleasure himself.

Your fingers move faster and can clearly hear how much wetness has gathered there. The sound of your wet pussy drives him to the edge. He looks drunk on you and watches your wet fingers spread through your folds. He almost looked envious of your fingers and the way they were getting covered in your wetness. You kind of felt the same. You wanted to be the one touching him and making him curse at your touch. You wanted to feel how warm his cock would be in your hand as you jerked him.

“Fuck honey come here, now,” he grits through his teeth.

You stand up and get in between your legs. He grabs you by your hips and the way his hands feel on you makes you want to cry out his name. They were big and strong, you were completely at his mercy with them on your body.

“I want you to sit down and take me nice and slow.”

All you can do is nod your head and proceed to straddle him on the throne. You place your hands on his shoulders and hover over his length. You look into his eyes and pause, waiting for him to tell you what he wants. Being this close to him nearly sucked the life out of you and his serious blue eyes stare into yours. His eyes get heavy with lust and his long eyelashes distract you. You feel his hands back on your hips as he sinks you down until you feel his tip push at your entrance.

You gasp at the sensation and hold onto him tighter. You slowly sink down, groaning at the feeling of you stretching around him and covering him with your wetness. He also groans softly, watching your face be overcome with pleasure. Each slow thrust you made only felt better. He felt so good and only made you want more of him.

“You feel so damn good,” he whispers in your ear. He drags his teeth down your neck and sucks on the crook of it. It feels like electricity just ran through your whole body. It was the best feeling you’ve ever had. He then places a kiss on your cheek, and it feels like heaven. His lips are so soft and you know you need more of that.

Your hips move without thinking and chase the high of your release. You took more of him and groan loudly. He was overwhelming, you’ve never been with a man like this and felt so intoxicated. The grip on your hips tightens as he moves you down on him harder and faster until he is deep inside you.

You both groan loudly, crying for more from each other.

“That’s it, honey, take all of it,” he grunts. He fills you to the brink and stills you. You cry out his name, overwhelmed by how deep he is.

“Shit you’re killing me,” you pant, staring at him wide eyed. He bites his lip and nods his head at you.

“You feel so good, honey, keep moving for me please,” he coos. His hand tangles in your hair again and pulls you in close, your chest touching his. He leans in to kiss you on the lips and you moan into his mouth. Your hips begin to move more, grinding at the base of his cock.

His hand pushes at the small of your back and helps you rock into him. The heat in your belly roars and you can feel your release ready to come crashing down on you. You break the kiss because you need air and try to keep it together. Your walls began to flutter around him, knowing you can’t hold back much longer.

He pulls slowly on your hair, making you look up at the ceiling mercilessly. He doesn’t tell you to stop so you keep riding him, chasing your high.

“Beg me to make you cum,” he grumbles.

A whiny moan comes from your throat and you thrust onto him harder. You wanted him to make you finish more than anything. You would have never imagined that this man would make you come apart, let alone beg for it. You roll your hips against him and that makes him groan loudly. His hand pulls at your hair tighter making you gasp.

“I said beg for it,” he growls.

“Please, please I need you to make me cum. Please let me finish,” you cry, your voice echoing through the throne room.

“Mmm, you sound so good like this. But you’ll have to do better than that to give you what you want. Beg. Beg for your king to make you cum.”

Your chest heaves and you feel your body tremble with need. You didn’t want to wait anymore and wanted him to give you the best pleasure you’ve ever felt. You didn’t care how wrong it was to beg him for such things and for calling him such a title. You needed him.

“Please, Loki, I need you. I need you to make me cum. I beg you, my king. Fuck don’t make me wait anymore.” You whimper helplessly.

He lets go of your hair and the look on his face just about makes you finish. He looked completely drunk on you, like he couldn’t believe what he heard.

“Cum for me.”

Both of his hands go back on your hips and helps you fuck him in a slow rhythm. You shut your eyes tightly and feel your whole body tense. Before you knew it, your orgasm comes crashing down hard like waves on a shore. Your walls squeezed around him and pulsed with every movement. You came hard and fast, unable to get enough of him.

He’s too busy trying to hold back his own release but won’t stop moving you on him. He groans and shuts his eyes too, his mouth dropping when he feels how tight and warm you are.

If it wasn’t for his hands on you, you would’ve completely collapsed on him. Your body felt weak and yet so light and satisfied. You lock eyes with him once more and that’s all it took for him. You feel his length pulse inside you, releasing all of his warm cum into you. You groan when you feel him inside you like this. He moved slowly and with each thrust, you squirmed on his lap with how sensitive you’ve become. He lets his head lean back slightly and lets the last wave of his release wash over him. He looked beautiful like this. It wasn’t the same vengeful God that was about to end everyone in his sight.

Your hips come to a stop and you pant as he brushes your hair off your shoulders. His touch was so addictive. You could have him touch every inch of your body and you wouldn’t want him to stop.

“I can’t get enough of you,” he sighed.

His voice makes your whole body tingle as you tighten your grip on his shoulders.

“Damn it don’t say something like that,” you grovel.

He smirks at you and slowly glides his hands up your body. He finds your hardened nipples and squeezes them.

“Loki, please, don’t,” you whimper, knowing you’ll succumb to him in a flash if he keeps going. He pulls you in for another kiss, this time fiercely. His tongue claims your mouth and makes you groan at the feeling. His hands cup your breasts and squeezes them in his large hands. He lets out a small groan when he feels them like this. Your hips squirm, unable to handle all this teasing. You break the kiss and struggle for breath.

“Loki no… I have to go. I-I-I can’t be here. I’ve been gone too long. They’re bound to send more people here since no one has reported back. People are going to come here and take you into custody.” You say panicked.

He lifts you off of him and gently puts you on the floor between his spread legs. He gives you that sinister smile once more and nods his head.

“Fine, you win,” he says cheekily, “take me in,” he tells you, putting his wrists together and holding them out in front of you.

“What?” you say shocked.

“Either you take me in now or risk a dozen people rushing in to find you naked in the throne room. It’s your choice,” he says cockily.

You grit your teeth at his cocky subterfuge, "fine, put your pants on now, you're leaving with me," you snap. You bend down to pick up your uniform and it vanishes into thin air. You snap your head to Loki with a look that could kill.

"Bring me back my clothes, NOW," you seethe. You try to cover yourself, unable to take this man's oogling eyes any longer.

"Are you fucking kidding me?! What the hell are you doing!" you scream.

He goes to pick up his pants and slips them on with a smile on his face.

"Oh no... I think I lost them... guess you'll have to come with me instead," he says slyly.

You really thought you could outsmart the God of Mischief when he was always one step ahead of you.

"You’ll pay for this." You scowl.

“If it has something to do with you back on this throne with me, I’m more than okay with any type of punishment you have in mind.” He winks.

#marvel loki #loki x reader #mcu loki #loki fanfic #loki smut #loki x you #loki laufeyson #tom hiddelston loki

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astroeleanor · 6 months ago

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Zodiac Signs Who Will Be The Main Characters of 2025 🏆✨🎉

🎄✨ Can you believe it? Christmas is around the corner, and guess what? Just like every year, I’m thrilled to offer Astrology + Tarot Xmas Bundles.

🎁 This season, I have an exclusive offer for you! Two Readings for the Price of One! Ready to align with the stars? TAP HERE to get yours.

🥇 PISCES (Moon, Rising, Chart Ruler)

SATURN IN PISCES (January 2025-May 2025) + (September 2025-February 2026):

Taking responsibility for your life, focusing on personal growth, developing resilience, defining who you are on your own terms, building a solid foundation for the future, turning your visions into reality.

VENUS & MERCURY RETROGRADE IN PISCES (Retrograde Overlap from March 14th 2025-March 24th 2025):

An important moment for reflection, taking a closer look at your relationships and the ways you communicate, revisiting old connections, rediscovering forgotten passions, slowing down to realign with your inner truth.

LUNAR ECLIPSE IN PISCES (September 7th 2025):

A powerful moment of culmination and transformation, sudden shifts and insights about your identity and personal path, shedding what’s holding you back so you can step into your next chapter with purpose.

🥈 ARIES (Moon, Rising, Chart Ruler)

SATURN IN ARIES (May 24th 2025 - September 1st 2025):

The beginning of a new cycle in your personal growth, taking responsibility for your goals, stepping into a leadership role in your life, confronting self-doubt, maturing or redefining your sense of self.

NEPTUNE IN ARIES (March 30th 2025-October 22nd 2025):

A wave of inspiration and imagination, dream big and align your actions with a higher sense of purpose, reconnecting with your intuition and spiritual potential, reimagining who you are and how you present yourself to the world, visionary thinking, taking inspired action.

As Saturn dips back into Pisces (September 2nd 2025-February 14th 2026), you’ll revisit some emotional or spiritual themes from the past to tie up any loose ends. This reflective period will prepare you for the full-on Saturn in Aries experience (starting on February 15th 2026-April 13th 2028), where you’ll step into greater authority and responsibility.

🥉 GEMINI (Moon, Rising, Chart Ruler)

JUPITER IN GEMINI (May 26th 2024-June 8th 2025):

A year of personal growth, stepping into your confidence, expanding your horizons, embracing the best version of yourself, discovering what makes you shine and leaning into it, feeling more open to explore new ideas or even physical experiences, an excellent time for networking and claiming the spotlight.

URANUS IN GEMINI (July 7th 2025-November 7th 2025):

A preview of revolutionary changes to your identity, the urge to break free from old roles or expectations, reinventing yourself, adopting a new look, a shift in how you express yourself, taking center stage in your own life, redefining who you are, reclaiming your narrative. Consider this your “trailer” for the personal evolution and breakthroughs ahead. This energy will play out fully starting on the 26th of April 2026.

🎖 CANCER (Moon, Rising, Chart Ruler)

JUPITER IN CANCER (June 9th 2025-June 30th 2026):

Amplified confidence and sense of self, focusing on personal growth, improving your self-image, taking bold steps toward your goals, a renewed sense of purpose and an inner glow that others can’t help but notice.

SATURN IN ARIES (May 24th 2025 - September 1st 2025):

Confronting situations where you need more courage and determination, feeling the pressure to balance ambitions with your emotional needs, a period of setting boundaries and taking responsibility for your future, stepping into a more structured, ambitious version of yourself without losing your emotional depth.

🏅VIRGO (Moon, Rising, Chart Ruler)

ECLIPSES IN VIRGO (March 29th 2025, September 21st 2025):

A year of personal reinvention, pivotal moments where you’re inspired to redefine your personal goals, a fresh chapter, prioritizing your needs and embracing your strengths.

SATURN IN PISCES (January 2025-May 2025) + (September 2025-February 2026):

Taking responsibility for your life, making tough decisions, a test of boundaries in relationships, reevaluation of partnerships, dealing with external pressure, assessing who you are, what you want, and how you show up in the world, letting go of limiting beliefs.

#astro community #astro observations #astrology #astrology signs #horoscope #zodiac #pisces #aries #gemini #virgo #2025 predictions #cancer #zodiac observations #zodiac signs #transits #zodiacsigns

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slinkythecoffeekid · 4 months ago

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Chapter Three || How Hard Is Rock Bottom?

Update: When I originally watched season two, I had a hard time with S2.10 because it's supposed to be a rough, emotional episode. However, as someone who relates to Rebecca in this episode, I forced myself to watch it because that's what I needed this week. I do appreciate the way they show how everyone processes their grief so incredibly deeply, and that is so fucking powerful to me. Also, I apologize for the late upload. I was very sick this past weekend. HOWEVER, It's here!! Chapter Three of "Standing Again" Pairing: Jamie Tartt x Reader Rating: T for teens word count: 6.9k Warnings: swearing, Talk of injury, Injury-related trauma, PTSD behaviors, Reader has multiple panic attacks, some have coping mechanisms, one does not. Synopsis: three weeks have passed, and the game you've been anxious about has rounded the corner. You'll see your brother, his wife, and maybe your nephews. An excellent idea when you're not sure if you are ready yet. Rebecca comes to you with a proposal. You and Jamie talk about your feelings.

Three weeks. Three weeks since you moved to Richmond, three weeks since you started working for A.F.C Richmond, three weeks since you started watching their practices, three weeks since you began to befriend the team. Three weeks of coffee with Keely in the morning, three weeks of Ted giving you random nuggets of insight you didn't know you needed, three weeks of Roy making sure you hadn't done something stupid to your leg, three weeks of Jamie Tartt bugging you every chance he had. Three weeks of normalcy.

Three weeks of staring at the same text message over and over again.

You argue that you've been doing fine. But the only person who would believe that doesn't even stare you back in the mirror at night. Your sleep schedule has been shit; between waking up late or not sleeping at all, you only eat when your body violently remembers you need to eat. Your runs in the mornings have progressively gotten longer since you've been using it as a way to help relax. However, it doesn't help calm the tiny voice in your head. Or the anxious face that is staring you dead in the eyes.

"hey- Earth to (y/n)???”

Ted was in front of you, forcing you to focus back on the conversation in the coach's office. Ted, Beard, Leslie, Roy, and Nate looked at you in concern as you cleared your throat. “Sorry, I got lost in my thoughts. What are we talking about?”

“Well, we were talking about play options. But we have been asking you if you're okay. " Beard leans back in his seat, raising one eyebrow.

You shrug, stretch, grab your drink from your side, and take a sip. “I'm fine, just a little tired. I didn't get much sleep last night.” You look around you, and all five men look like they didn't buy it or knew you were lying. Especially Roy, he had the worst Don't you dare lie to me, Dad look you'd ever seen? His eyebrows raised at you and everything.

Sensing the discomfort amongst his team of coaches and friends, Ted cleared his throat. " Alright, then, make sure you get some sleep after the game tonight (y/n). But hey, since we are all here, let's talk about Sunderland! What do we know?”

“They are a well-rounded team, playing in a 1-4-2-3-1 formation,” Nate pipes up; as he mentions, Ted moves the magnets on the play whiteboard to mimic the formation. “It's usually seen as a defensive play tactic.”

“Yeah, but give them a well-time pivot, they can become a strong offensive team,” Beard mentions, flipping a book page.

“So we have to keep up with them,” Ted comments offhandedly as he's writing names on the board.

“If the midfielders are too close on the change-up, it leaves some opening,” Roy states, arms crossed.

“Keep them on their toes and hope they trip up.”

You watch the board, “or you could overpower the midfield, like a 3-5-2.” You were not expecting everyone to turn to look over at you. “What? You overpower the midfield line and force them to change up, keeping Danni and Jamie free to score too.” everyone looks at you with either a raised eyebrow or a confused look, Roy had the silent, non-visible Roy Smirk (™)

Everyone looks to Ted, who's still looking at you. He smiles as if he's proud of you, and you can see the glimmer of pride in his eyes. “I think that might be the game to play. I'm all in favor of (y/n) plan, say, Ey?”

The men give an eye, and you just shrug, and Ted nods. “Alright, 3-5-2 it is then,” he slaps his knees before forcing himself out of the chair. Well, then we should let the team know the plan.” The other coaches nod, Beard and Leslie walk out of the office, Nate pokes back into his own, and Roy walks out after Beard.

Throwing away your takeaway cup, you go to leave.

“Hey, (y/n), can I ask you a question?” Ted asks from over by his desk.

You stop, look over, and shrug. " I mean, you just did, but sure, what's up, Ted?”

“How would you feel about joining us on the pitch? Since technically you are support staff? I think the other coaches would like your insight.” He had the biggest puppy dog eyes, and you sighed.

“Are you going to pout if I tell you no?” you ask with a chuckle.

Ted shrugs, “perhaps. Is that a yes or no?”

You think momentarily and nod in defeat, “Yes, but only because I'm not sure I can handle a pouting coach lasso for more than 20 minutes at a time.”

Ted's smile was contagious. " Well, then, we will see you soon, " he smiled before leaving the office to give the team the pregame lecture.

You smile, looking out the glass to watch, before walking through the assistant coach's office door and heading towards Rebecca's office. You'd have to inform your lovely boss that you could not sit with her and Keeley for the game.

On your way out, you could see all the fans coming into the stadium, many Sunderland loyalists and far more Richmond faithful, people from young and old, friends, families, rivals, and enemies; it made you smile thinking about all these people excited to watch a match.

Too bad you let them down before

You stop for a second, hearing the voice in the back of your head, and clench your fist, nails biting into your palms, and shake your head, trying to get the thought out of your head, trying to focus on anything besides the mental tormentor that you'd left unchecked. You look around, trying to find something to focus on, and head towards the elevator to the upper floor and make your way over.

You waited in the queue with several other people, primarily shareholders and their families. No one you recognized; you did overhear a young teenage girl whispering to her mother about you, though. Primarily recognizing who you were but nothing else. Everyone was quiet in the elevator until the door dinged, and everyone got off. You included.

The owner box was off of a social area where everyone was before the start of the game; people mingled and chatted, catching up with one another, talking business, and the like; Rebecca and Keeley are, of course, no different as they are both women of business and one happens to own the club. You sneak into the circle that Rebecca is chatting with and gently tap her arm. Perhaps you startled her, but not that she would have let on ever; she turns and looks at you with a smile, “Ah, (y/n), Keeley was wondering when you'd show. Are you joining us in the box?” That dazzling smile could charm the entirety of parliament.

You return the smile, but more mildly: “Nah, Ted invited me to sit with the coaches. I just came to let you know.” You shrug. “Next time, though, promise!” You expected Rebecca to be slightly more disappointed in this, but that sneaky smirk came into place.

“Oh no, it's quite alright! If Ted wants you down there, I'm sure it's with good reason. Have a good time (y/n).” She squeezes you on the shoulder and returns to her conversation with some shareholders.

You smile and head out, but not before Keeley can stop you.

“(Y/N)!” you barely even turn around before she's got you in a hug tighter than a boa, and you wheeze her name out, barely. “Where are you going?” Keeley looks you over and smiles, “That coach polo works on you, god you're fit!” she turns you around to get a good look at you.

You cannot help but laugh at her antics and smile. “I'm headed down to the pitch and sitting with the team today.” You look Keeley over in her fur jacket, earmuffs, and comfortable pants. “I must say you make everything look fashionable, Keels.”

She pouts, hearing you won't be sitting with the girls, “boo, I thought we’d get to finally gossip about you and your love life. But if you're gonna be with the boys, best be with the boys.” she then smiles looking at her outfit, “awe thanks babes, you are the sweetest! Alright, the boys are waiting for you- oh, hi!” Keeley was starting to turn you around to push you back towards the elevator when you both turned to see a woman behind you looking as if she was nervous to approach.

The woman was about 5’6 "tall. Her black hair hung past her shoulders in light waves, her eyes dark green, and her complexion pale. She was wearing a black puffer jacket and a Sunderland scarf and holding a Paw Patrol backpack. She looked nervous, making eye contact with you. And you were equally uncomfortable, but you couldn't run. And sure as hell couldn't hide. Your heart pumping filled your ears, your jaw clenched, and you felt like you couldn't move. You could hear the words being spoken around you but struggled to cling onto any of them to formulate the conversation in your brain.

The woman smiled at Keeley, and they seemed to introduce themselves. You heard both Keeley and her exchange names.

Jennifer, Keeley

You watched them shake hands, and Jennifer told Keeley why she was there.

Husband, coach

You knew Keeley was told she was here with her two sons by the way Jennifer gestured to two young boys talking to other kids who were there with their parents or grandparents. You knew all of this, but your tongue felt swollen in your mouth. Your jaw felt almost wired shut, so when the conversation turned back to include you, why couldn't you move? The feeling of cold rushed up your spine, reminding your body and mind that you didn't feel safe here. And that was enough for you to force your jaw to unclench. Your legs unlocked, and you quickly walked out without a word.

You don't know what kind of concerned looks you received when leaving, but you didn't want to acknowledge it either. It meant owning your anxiety, and you couldn't do that. You took the stairs back down to the bottom floor of the locker room, practically running down the stairs. You make it down and slam into the door of Roy and Nate's office, sliding down it, trying to catch your breath. You look up to the fact you are indeed alone in the room and sigh. What were your grounding exercises again? You dig through your pocket, pull out a piece of gum, and start chewing on it.

5: the blue carpet of the coach's office, the grey paint of the office walls, the yellow wording of Gradarius Firmus Victoria, the bookshelf full of binders to your right, the clipboards hung by Nate's desk.

4: the carpet at your feet, the fabric of the polo against your neck, the cool temperature of the door against your back, the feeling of your hands against each other to help relieve your anxiety

3: the sounds of the coaches talking through the plans of today's plays, the team listening and asking questions, the sound of the heating system above you.

2: the bland air of the office and the mint on your breath

1: your gum you are chewing.

You take a deep breath and stand, dusting yourself off and rubbing your face. You hadn't been crying, but you wouldn't have been surprised if you had. Taking a moment to compose yourself, you finally walk into the locker room just in time for the huddle-up.

“Hey, just in time (y/n)!” Ted smiles at you but gives you that concerned look, as does the rest of the team.

You shake your head, “Sorry, I was talking to the boss.” you put your hand in the pile, and everyone looks at Isaac.

Isaac looks at everyone and nods. “Richmond on three. One. Two. Three.”

“RICHMOND!!” The locker room erupted, and the boys headed out the door.

You decided to hang back to clear your mind for a second, but I'm still unsure if you have the mental capacity to join them in the lineup yet. You fail to see Jamie hung back. He walks over to you and waves a hand in front of your face, looking at you. “Ello, earth to (y/n)?” His face is scrunched up in concern and confusion.

You startle out of your inner thoughts to look at Jamie and force a smile: “Hm? Yeah, I'm okay. " However, you were unsure if he'd be kind enough to accept your obvious lie or corner you since you'd only known him for a few weeks. You shrug and look at the door: “Don't keep them waiting, Jamie; they will leave you.”

Jamie frowns, looking at the doorway, too, and looks at you. You can't tell what he’s thinking, but he clenches and unclenches his fist a few times before letting out a pent-up breath. “Ted only let me come back because they needed a win, but the team didn't want me back, you know?” he says rather abruptly, catching you completely off guard.

“I sorry Jamie-”

“No, let me finish,” cutting you off, he shrugs, “I’m working really hard to get their trust back, and I also want to be someone people can trust- so if you ever want to talk or shit- I'll do my best to listen… I know I bother you a lot, but it's because I want to be friends.” he extends his arms out, almost as if offering a hug, “Also, you look like you might start crying. I don't know what to do in these situations.” he mutters, unable to make eye contact.

You stop briefly, steeling your emotions by pushing them down so no one can see them. A smile creeps to your face, startling him, and you push him towards the door.

“Woah-hey-what are you doing?!” Jamie was very surprised by the sudden shoving.

“You have a game to play, Tartt. Don't get sappy on me now!” you push him out into the hall where the rest of the team is waiting. Everyone looks at Jamie, but no one says anything about it. They head towards the entrance to the pitch, where the other team is waiting to walk onto the field.

The hall became silent as the teams awaited the announcement and music to play; you hung back at the end of the line for your team but looked up at the older gentleman approaching you. Actually, an older gentleman would be a horrible way to describe him, your brother, a 6’ft plus man in khakis and a Sunderland Manager jacket and oxford shoes. He stood beside you for a moment, not that anyone noticed his presence next to you.

The feeling from before flooded your body, and your jaw clenched tighter than before. Your nails dig into the sides of your arms, and even your toes clenched in a vain effort to ground yourself. The blood pumping could be heard in your ears again, and you felt like your blood had left your body.

Your brother knew better than to touch you in this state of panic, but could he even tell you were this anxious? Apparently so. You look down at the hand extended to you. It had a pack of gum in it, unopened, and your favorite flavor. You took it, of course. When you looked up at your older brother, meeting his gaze. The look on your face must have been ridiculous because he smiled at you.

“Jenni texted me already. We can talk after the game.” Archie hesitated like he wanted to give you a pat on the back. Thinking better of it, he walked away from you and back up to where the rest of his staff was, leaving you alone. You put the new pack in your pocket and walked up to where the rest of the coaches were.

Roy looked over at you, “you good?”

You shrug in response, “As good as I'm gonna get.”

With the timing of divine intervention, the team's Anthem started playing, and the two teams walked onto the pitch.

“Good afternoon, everyone, and welcome back to Nelson Road; today's match is between AFC Richmond and AFC Sunderland; what are we expected to see today, Chris?”

“Well, Arlo, With the Roy Kent Effect Vs Sunderlands all-rounded play style, I’m sure the two teams will be evenly matched.”

“I adore your enthusiasm, Chris; there seems to be a bit of a play style change to meet Sunderlands 1-4-2-3-1 strategy. Richmond has gone with a 3-5-2 approach for this match. This is a new lineup I've never seen before.”

“Yes, well, it keeps the midfield line overpowered and the strikers able to do what they do best.”

“Macadoo to Obisanya, Obisanya to Rojas- and a steal away from Sunderland-”

“Quite a long ball from Collin- up to Rojas- to Tartt and- GOAL for the Greyhounds!”

“And Richmond takes the half. Hopefully, this will continue in the second.”

You stand up, waiting for the team to all head in for the half-time halftime break, the coaches quietly talking amongst themselves, and you follow in after everyone. One of the unwritten rules of football was not to break the focus. And this was their focus.

Heading down the hall, you wait in the open area where the halls meet in a circle. You'd made it through half the pack of gum by this point and were unsure if the rest would last the next fifteen minutes. The team was going over strategy, so you couldn't just walk in. from the other side of the hall, though; your brother walked out; he didn't seem too frustrated, mainly because there were another 45 minutes to go. It was far too soon to call the game. You watch as he is typing on his phone, clearly talking to someone important. You decide to catch his attention.

“Thanks for the gum,”... that was it? That's how you open a conversation with your brother, whom you haven't seen in three years, much less talk to? You started by thanking him for a pack of gum he probably had in his possession. You were beginning to spiral to thinking the worst things about yourself, but his response cut those off.

“It's your favorite flavor. Unless that changed, it is still worth a shot,” Archie looked up, putting his phone in his pocket. Standing there, arms crossed, looking at you. “How are you?”

How are you? Honestly, you had no idea; you worked yourself up so badly that you thought he would hate you, and that option was still viable based on how you answered him. You could be honest and say you are having a rough go at life right now, and maybe he understands. Or he wouldn't and say it's not his job to coddle you. You could lie, and he would buy it, or press you for answers that you'd crumble on the floor. While honesty is the best policy, it's not when you haven't seen that person in three years. So you shrug and give a small smile.

“I've been worse.”

It wasn't a lie; you had been worse, but you had recovered this far, and you were mad, proud of yourself for that. There were dark days, but things have gotten a lot better for you as of late.

Archie nods, looking at the door to the locker room, then back to you. “I'm glad to see you doing better,” he says, looking back down at his phone, not looking at you. “Jenni texted me, said she saw you.”

You nod, looking at your feet, “I did… look, I want to say sorry-”

“I know you are,” he sighs, shaking his head and cutting you off. “Look, I don't think this is the time for this conversation (y/n).” he looks at you with a hurt expression. “I want us to be able to sit down and chat, but this just isn't the time.” Archie gives you a rueful smile. “I have to get back. The boys would love to see you before we leave. If you want, of course, no pressure.” with that, he gave you a pat on the shoulder and then walked back into the visitor's locker room, leaving you alone in the hall.

You stood there dumbfounded, you wanted to cry, but you couldn't, pride? Arrogance? The way you were raised? All of these could be to blame. You'd gotten so worked up and in fear of your family pushing you out the way you did them. But maybe this wasn't something you needed to worry about. It was far too soon to tell.

You hadn't realized the fifteen-minute half-time had even passed; the hall had erupted with noise as the two teams busted out of their locker rooms to return to the field. The only reason you even walked with them is because Jamie assured you along. You couldn't make out anything being said to you as your ears felt like all they could hear was static.

The second half of the game was mostly a stalemate, with heavy defensive and offensive shifts and about 10 shots on goal, all either blocked or wild misses, and the crowd was getting antsy. Yes, Richmond still had a point lead, but a draw wasn't in the cards, at least if anyone could do anything about it. It was about 20 until the final whistle, and the coaches talked amongst themselves.

“We can switch back to 2-4-4-2, which will even out the squad a bit better.” Beard's suggestion was plausible but not suitable.

“Don't be fucking ridiculous we should stick with what we are doing; they can keep defending as long as we fucking need” Roy wasn't wrong, but it would exhaust the defense, and something would slip.

“Park the bus is always an option,” Nate recommended, but it was also not great for defense.

Ted thought, but there was no great option.

The four coaches standing there huddling, unable to come up with a good idea, was worrisome, and the team could feel it. You, on the other hand, watched each second, analyzing the team and thinking from your chair. The four coaches almost seemed to start bickering ahead of you.

“Let Jamie, Sam, and Dani try to score. Switch them back to a 4-3-3 formation. Keep the wings open, and the strikers can be more offensive,” you pipe up from your spot.

All four coaches approach you with either a raised eyebrow or genuine contemplation. Besides Nate, he almost looked at you like you might be daft.

“That's a terrible idea; it leaves our midline weak for center field control,” Nate quips at you, looking at the other three coaches who seem to be considering it. “You three can't seriously think it's going to work?”

“If we want to keep a point lead, we must start playing more defensively.” Beard nods while stroking his chin, though.

“How sure are we that this is going to work?” Ted asks the coaches around him, but he is looking directly at you. This was a trusting moment, and he needed to know he could trust your gut.

You nod, “it will work. I trust them.”

Ted nods, looks over to the field, and lets out a sharp whistle, “Hey Isaac!”

Isaac turned to look at Ted, who just mouthed 4-3-3 letting the wings fly.

Isaac nodded and returned to the field, relaying the message, and the team understood quite quickly and changed up the formation.

“What a game! The score is one-nil, Richmond. Though I wonder how much longer they can hold their lead.”

“I say they might win the match this way, Arlo.”

“Always the optimist Chris, however- it seems to be a bit of a formation change- Jan maas with the pass, to Cumberbatch, to Obisanya, Obisanya to Tartt, and another goal for Richmond! A beautiful switch to a 4-3-3 formation and a beautiful goal from Tartt!”

“I must say that some guts to switch up this late in the game.”

“Yes, but it has secured Richmond the victory!!”

The clock hit zero, the score was 2-nil Richmond, and the crowd erupted into loud cheers. The crowd was a mix of “We Are Richmond Til We Die” and people singing Jamie's name to the Babyshark rhythm. The teams all shook hands, and the coaches exchanged good sportsmanship.

But you? You were stuck in your chair, staring directly forward to the pitch. Your mouth was dry, and you were clawing at your arms through your jacket. Your ears were buzzing, it was all too loud, and everything was just far too bright; it wasn't always this bright. Your jaw was clenched far tighter than it had ever been previously today. Someone was talking to you; you couldn't tell where the voice was coming from or who it was coming from, but something about the voice talking to you forced you right out of your seat and practically running away from the area. However, since you were a person who understood social normalities, a brisk walk was the pace at which you moved. Weaving through people, probably muttering excuses and pardons on your way, you made it into your office in one human piece. You sat in your office chair, closing your eyes and squeezing them shut to keep the voices out and push back whatever tears might try to escape. Trying to grasp onto your reality- everything was just too much.

Suddenly, you felt pressure; it was tight and warm. It reminded you of a blanket. You stiffened at the contact, but the pressure you felt strengthened, and you realized you were being hugged. You didn't know who, but it didn't matter right now. You just held onto the person tightly. They gently began to rock you and rubbed your back soothingly. Even if you were not the biggest fan of personal touch, you relaxed. Even as your breathing evened out and your tears slowly came to a stop, besides the occasional hiccup, they didn't let go of you yet. The body attached was firm and toned, so it couldn't have been Ted or Beard, not that you expect a hug from Beard. Roy wasn't this skinny, and he wouldn't know what to do if you started crying. They also smelt like expensive cologne, the good smells, you know? Unfortunately, it is with a little too much of it.

When you finally decide to look up, it was who you expected, Jamie fucking Tartt.

As soon as you two made eye contact, he let you go, hands at his sides, looking at anything that wasn't your face. To be fair, you had just spent at least the past five minutes crying, so you knew your face looked a mess. You also couldn't look him in the eye. You were embarrassed. When was the last time you cried in front of anyone? Had you had a panic attack you couldn't control?

“So-” you both started, “No- you first.” Now, the two of you looked at each other, and you began to laugh. Jamie looked terrified like he had just watched a kitten get kicked, or someone die. Here you are, laughing at his expression because you don't know how else to respond to his reaction.

“Why are you laughing? I followed you because I was worried!” Jamie seemed to get over the terror and was genuinely upset with you.

It took you a second to compose yourself because you would start crying again if you didn't, “I'm sorry, I'm not laughing at you… okay, yes, I am, but I promise I'm okay!”

Jamie frowned before looking serious and nervous again. “You bolted, and I got worried—I mean, everyone got worried, and I thought maybe you were having a panic attack like Ted did that one time, and I mean, I've never seen one, so I was worried and I followed you here,” he said. I don't know if that was the right thing to do—I've never had anyone in my life like this before.”

You were amazed. You'd never guess that Jamie Tartt would be so worried about you and your mental well-being, but here you are, and you cannot help but give him another hug, this time squeezing him tightly. “Thank you.”

Jamie couldn't comprehend the fact that you were now hugging him. He had only reacted to your panic from the concerned look everyone had as you passed the entire team, and no one seemed bothered enough to follow you, and it reminded him of when Ted had his panic attack. He found himself worried that you could get hurt if you were left alone. In truth, he didn't know how others handled these kinds of things. However, you are his friend now, so he needed to support and comfort you. When did you two become friends? Was it some unspoken bond you two built? Or was this a one-sided affection, and did you only see him as a co-worker? He couldn't tell, which seemed to frighten him more; his embrace tightened on you in a fleeting moment of his anxiety. Those fears sunk into his bones as you broke contact first, aggressively wiping at your eyes to hide any traits of tears that might have shown their faces. Jamie did not attempt to keep you there, but he did lean in to check your face.

“Feeling better?” his face painted in concern for you.

You shrug and straighten out your jacket, and you look down at your feet, far too embarrassed to look him in the eye, “I think I will be…” you look up and give the best smile you can to ease his concerns, albeit it was not much of a smile. “Go celebrate with the team. We can talk later, okay?” you didn't leave much room for argument as you walked out of your office into the hallway. And Jamie exited after you but walked back to the locker room.

No more than 30 feet away from you, Rebecca stood at the end of the hall talking with Ted and Beard. You couldn't hear what they were talking about, but the second the sound of your office door opening and shutting again alerted them to another person in the vicinity. All three of the members of the huddle at the end of the hall look up and smile at you; Ted and Beard take this moment to excuse themselves as Rebecca approaches you. You hadn't realized how intimidating she could be, yet here you are, scared of the tall,, beautiful woman you know as your boss.

“Are you alright (y/n)? You don't look well.” she peers at your face with deep concern but you shake her off like it was nothing.

“I'll be alright. Is there something you need?” You couldn't look her in the eyes, let alone anyone at this moment, but she gently placed a hand on your shoulder. " Let's go talk in my office. I think you'd feel more comfortable in there.” She led you up to her office, and you followed like a lost puppy in a storm.

The two of you enter her office, you taking a seat on the couch and her grabbing herself a cup of tea. " Anything to drink? Water, whiskey, tea?” she asks you before looking back at you.

Unlike Keeley, you always kept your shoes on in the office. Here, you sat on the couch, knees tucked against your chest, hugging them close, with your shoes off. You were not responding to Rebecca; you were just watching the pitch from the window as people still were leaving the stadium.

Rebecca frowned, sitting down next to you with her cup, and followed your gaze, “Keeley told me that you two seen your sister-in-law… are you alright? Seeing your family, I mean.”

You shrug and smile tiredly. " It'll be okay. I'm working on it. Anyway, what's up?” You turn your attention wholly to Rebecca.

Rebecca nods before clearing her throat and turning fully, facing you in return. “I need assistance. Ted and Beard told me that you came up with today's formation that the team used. Roy is an amazing player and knows the game inside and out; Nate has amazing ideas, Coach Beard keeps Ted Tamed, and Ted is… he's Ted, and that team loves him. With Roy back, our tie streak has been broken, but I worry about the long run.” she takes a sip of her tea, studying your expression.

You didn't give her much to go on, your face stoic as you listened. You knew this was going one way, but you wanted to let her pitch her idea before you answered.

Rebecca sighed quietly, “I'm asking for your help; you know how to be a goalkeeper, and the team likes you, even if you are only a consultant of such. Oh, (y/n) don't make me beg.” Rebecca gave you a pitiful pout, allowing you to crack a smile.

You shrug and adjust so you're sitting crisscross apple sauce. You shrug, “I don't have an answer for you, and if I tried to answer you now, I'm sure that would be a horrible idea.” You stand up from the couch. " Don't get me wrong. I'm not telling you no. I'm just saying I don't know.” You respond, putting on your shoes.

“Promise you think on it?” she asks you one last time.

You head to the door, “Goodnight, Rebecca.”

Outside the office, you check your phone seeing a new notification.

Jamie Tartt

Hey, want a ride home?

You peer over the railing, seeing Jamie looking up at you and giving you a wave. You chuckle to yourself and nod. Heading down the stairs to join Jamie by his side, you say, “Yeah, actually, I don't think I could walk myself home right now.”

Jamie nods gently, rocking his shoulders into yours as you two walk, “about earlier-”

You shrug and walk outside with him, “Something you'll learn, Jamie, is that I'm not emotionally vulnerable. I don't like making people worry about me, and I sure as hell don't like people seeing how I feel.” you follow after Jamie to his car. You knew Jamie was one of those I'm rich because I'm an extraordinary person, and his Aston Martin Rapide didn't change that view of him one bit.

Jamie nods, unlocking his car so you can get in, and he opens the door for you. “Right.”

You frown at his short answer, but you get in and buckle yourself into your seat. Waiting for him to get in the driver's side, you say, " Right… that's all I'm getting out of that?”

He shakes his head, buckling up, “Ted said I should just let you talk if you want to talk; if you want input, then ill give it but ill be pretty shit at it.” he turns the engine over and puts the car into reverse so he can pull out his spot. “I asked for advice.”

You nod, looking down at your hands, “Oh- right.”

He nods, “Also, I'm going to need directions.” He doesn't look away from the road, but you can feel his full attention on you.

You nod, “Hang a left out of the park and drive straight until I tell you to turn. “I'm fine, though, I talked to my brother, and he wants to chat when I'm ready- I ran into my sister-in-law, and it scared the crap out of me, and we won. Everything went pretty well. Even the panic episodes could have been worse.” you look out the window. “I dunno… I feel like I'm waiting for something to happen. I couldn't tell you what it is- hang a left,” you gesture to the street.

Jamie turns the corner, “like something bad?” he peeks over at you before turning his eyes back to the road.

You nod, “Yeah, like if I get involved in anything again, I might get hurt.” You stop for a moment, letting your own words sink in, and you let out a shaky sigh, “Hang a right.” “I don't want to push people out, but I can't let them in if something bad happens again.”

Jamie nods, turning right where he's told, and he looks over at the buildings on the street and drives slower since it is a pedestrian-heavy area. “You let your brother back in a bit, and you've got friends on the team; Keeley loves you; she loves everyone, but a wins a win.”

You nod, pointing to your apartment building, “That one." You quietly sink into your seat. The tears finally escaping you no matter how hard you fight, “I miss the pitch, I miss the box, I miss my family and my squad mates, I miss the wins, the losses, the workouts, all of it, but I'm too big of a fucking coward to want to even attempt to get back in it, I know I can, but I do not want to get hurt again, I don't want to get peoples hopes up that ill come back, because if I do and I get hurt, I'm again just letting everyone down. I'm letting myself down.” you take a sharp breath and wipe at your tears aggressively as you realize the car has been parked for a while, and Jamie isn't to your right anymore.

Instead, Jamie got out and opened the car door for you, reaching out his hand. “Do you want another hug?”

You nod, unbuckling yourself from the seat, and take his hand. Jamie pulls you up and hugs you tightly. Allowing you to feel your feelings in earnest for the first time in a long time, you sob into his shoulder, hugging him as tightly as you can. There was no rush to pull yourself together, and Jamie didn't speak; he just made sure you felt safe and secure. When you finally pulled away, you felt exhausted and embarrassed.

“I'm so sorry, Jamie-” you started apologizing before Jamie cut you off.

“Don't apologize. You should get some rest, though. You can call me if you need anything.” He looked at his feet, hands in his pockets.

You think for a moment, before throwing rationality to the wind, “Come on.” You pull him along after you, unlocking your door and leading him inside. You kick off your shoes at the front door and take off your coat. “Put the kettle on. I'm gonna go get changed.” And you head off to your bedroom.

This was the first time you had anyone over in a long time, let alone a guy you found attractive. There was a slight alarm in your head that your apartment was not clean for guests to come visit. Still, that thought was put out of your mind when you finally returned to the living kitchen area when Jamie turned back to face you with two cups of hot cocoa and a bowl of popcorn,. He had a second unopened bag of crisps under his chin as not to drop it on the floor. The TV was on in your living room, and you realized it was some sort of reality TV show, The Great British Bake Off. You stood in the doorway as Jamie set everything down on the coffee table and turned to you with his hands on his hips and a smile proud of himself and his work. “I think you deserve a calm night in,” he looked around your flat. “Got any fluffy blankets?”

You chuckle and nod, returning to your room, grabbing a spare few blankets from the cupboard, and bringing them back out. Jamie was sitting on the couch watching the episode without you, so in any good fashion of friendly fire, you threw the blankets over him and hopped over the couch to sit next to him as he wrestled the blankets off his face so he could see again. You hunkered down on your couch to watch TV alongside Jamie.

Jamie, freeing himself from the blankets, sat close enough to you that you could feel his body heat but not too close to make you uncomfortable. The two of you spent the night talking, watching TV, eating snacks, and just enjoying each other's friendship.

It was late into the evening, and you had settled down from your chatting. Jamie had fallen asleep on the couch a while ago. Standing up, you tuck Jamie in on the couch and leave him to sleep out there and you in your room. You clean up the mugs and snacks, setting them in your dishwasher, and looking back out to the living room one more time, you walk back out to the living room and rustle Jammie's hair while he sleeps comfortably on your couch.

“Good night, Jamie.”

TAG LIST @shephard17895 @grandfartvoid @inkwell-isles @esw1012 @gaia-is-sucktastic @shadowyhologramlady @zoleea-exultant @laurens0 some of those who wanted the tag list I couldn't tag I'm sorry

#slinkywrites #jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #slinkys last three brain cells talk #reader insert #roy fucking kent #roy kent #ted lasso #ted lasso x reader #yall i need to write let me write #Spotify

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obsidian-pages777 · 5 months ago

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Hecate Asteroid In the Birth Chart

Introduction

In astrology, Hecate is often associated with the asteroid 100 Hecate. She is a symbol of mystery, magic, intuition, crossroads, and transformation. Her placement in each astrological house can reveal how these themes manifest in your life.

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Here's a general interpretation of Hecate in each house:

1st House (House of Self):

Themes: Personal identity, appearance, and how you present yourself to the world.

Hecate's Influence: You exude an air of mystery and power, often seen as enigmatic or intuitive. You may possess a natural ability to navigate crossroads in life and reinvent yourself.

2nd House (House of Resources):

Themes: Finances, values, and personal possessions.

Hecate's Influence: Your financial decisions may be guided by intuition or spiritual insights. You value esoteric knowledge and are likely to view material wealth as a tool for transformation.

3rd House (House of Communication):

Themes: Communication, learning, and local environment.

Hecate's Influence: Your words carry a deep, transformative power. You may have a talent for exploring hidden truths and teaching others how to navigate life’s crossroads.

4th House (House of Home and Family):

Themes: Home life, roots, and emotional security.

Hecate's Influence: Your connection to ancestral wisdom is strong. You might feel a sense of responsibility to carry forward your family’s hidden or mystical traditions.

5th House (House of Creativity):

Themes: Creativity, romance, and self-expression.

Hecate's Influence: You express your creativity through mystical or occult themes. Romantic relationships could bring transformative experiences, and you inspire others to embrace their shadow side.

6th House (House of Work and Health):

Themes: Daily routines, work environment, and physical health.

Hecate's Influence: You may have a healing touch or work in areas involving transformation and intuition. Your health and habits may be deeply connected to your spiritual practices.

7th House (House of Partnerships):

Themes: Relationships and collaborations.

Hecate's Influence: Partnerships often bring pivotal transformation. You attract enigmatic or mystical individuals and may be a guide for others during major life changes.

8th House (House of Transformation):

Themes: Shared resources, intimacy, and rebirth.

Hecate's Influence: A natural alignment, amplifying your ability to delve into the mysteries of life, death, and rebirth. You may have an affinity for magic, shadow work, or uncovering hidden truths.

9th House (House of Philosophy):

Themes: Higher learning, beliefs, and travel.

Hecate's Influence: You seek mystical wisdom in your philosophical and spiritual pursuits. Foreign places or higher education might play a role in your transformation or magical practices.

10th House (House of Career):

Themes: Career, public image, and legacy.

Hecate's Influence: Your public persona may involve mystical or transformative work. You could be seen as a guide or leader in occult or spiritual matters. You have intense spiritual powers.

11th House (House of Community):

Themes: Friendships, groups, and future goals.

Hecate's Influence: You connect with communities that value spiritual growth and transformation. Your role often involves guiding others through collective or personal change.

12th House (House of Subconscious):

Themes: Mysteries, hidden realms, and spirituality.

Hecate's Influence: Profoundly intuitive and connected to otherworldly realms, you excel in shadow work, spiritual guidance, and uncovering hidden wisdom. You may have a strong connection to the dream world.

#asteroid astrology #astrology readings #greek gods #astrology #astro notes

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monokuromuheaven · 4 months ago

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Vancouver actor Carlos Diehz’s big break comes in Ralph Fiennes film

(...)

“He (Edward Berger) wanted to hear from me what I had in mind for the character,” said Diehz, adding he explained to Berger that he saw Benitez as “a very pious man.”

“If he was a missionary, then an archbishop, then a cardinal, he has what it takes to lead a group. To be at the front,” said Diehz. “I discussed these ideas with Edward, and he liked them.”

Eventually, Diehz made the final callback and was brought to Rome to meet with casting director Nina Gold (The Crown, Slow Horses, Star Wars and Game of Thrones).

“She’s a big deal worldwide,” said Diehz about Gold. “So, no pressure, right?”

(...)

While he was onset, Diehz said he noticed Fiennes was watching him. Finally, Fiennes approached and said: “Now I know why they chose you. You are Benitez,” Diehz recalls the English actor saying to him. “He saw in me the personality of the character.”

Diehz was raised Catholic and understood the basics of the conclave process, but admitted the weight of the subject matter really hit home when he donned the heavy cardinal costume.

“When you look at yourself in the mirror dressed up like that, like someone that grand within the church, it is like an extra boost emotionally to perform,” said Diehz.

“Now I see Benitez the way he is in this situation. Benitez is a missionary who mostly dresses like any other civilian in his daily life, but here he has to dress the part. He has to look like the rank he has been given. So, being able to look at myself like that is kind of a strange situation. But very empowering.”

What was also empowering was the wealth of talent and experience he was surrounded with for his very first feature film role. His castmates were open to discussions and offered him excellent advice.

Fiennes, for instance, spoke to him about the importance of truly being heard.

“He said, ‘OK, every word you say is precious. And you have to deliver it as such. You have to put the time in, the correct enunciations, so the audience understands and is not wondering what you said … Treat every word as precious. So, I did that,” said Diehz. “The next day, when we were shooting the scene, every break we had I was rehearsing my enunciation, and I heard Ralph from another part of the area, he just said, ‘Bravo, you nailed it.'”

Later in shooting, Diehz faced a crisis of confidence as he prepared for a pivotal scene in which Benitez makes a speech in front of the 100-plus cardinals. This time, it was Lithgow who offered guidance.

“He asked me what are the main issues I wanted to talk about? And I said stage fright,” said Diehz. “He said stage fright really never goes away. You just learn how to manage stage fright. One of the things is when you feel it, it is a sign that you care about the scene. And that’s good.

“But what must guide you, drive you, is to know that when you speak there is no reason to hurry your lines. There’s no reason to feel rushed in any way because you control the scene. No one is cutting you off. Nobody is going to rush you. When they call ‘action,’ until you finish your lines, you own the scene. You set the pace and the tone. So that was very empowering, very powerful stuff.”

But despite Lithgow’s words of encouragement, Diehz said his nerves were still front and centre when it was time to shoot the speech.

“Edward Berger approached me and said, ‘You doing OK? I said, ‘Yeah, yeah I’m fine.’ And he said, ‘I can hear your heartbeat on the microphone,’ ” said Diehz. “So I was, ‘OK, big breath, calm down, calm down, calm down.’ And little by little, I did.”

While filming scenes caused his blood pressure to rise, Diehz says the evenings were made up of many wonderfully relaxing dinners of fabulous traditional Italian food alongside his very famous castmates.

And no, Tucci didn’t cook.

“You know what, that is a common question,” said Diehz when asked about his foodie co-star. “Being at a table with Ralph, Stanley, John, Isabella and talking about wine, cheeses, bread, it was wonderful. You could make a documentary of each of those dinners we had together,” said Diehz, who explained it was Rossellini who offered much of the insight into the nuances of Italian food.

(...)

“I remember Stanley asked me, ‘Are you really, after all this, going back to your daily job?’ Well, yeah, that’s what I have,” said Diehz, who continues to work for a Vancouver architectural firm. “But I’m not quitting acting. I’m going for more.”

Source

#Carlos Diehz #Conclave #Conclave 2024 #This is one of my favorites interviews #there's so much infor here #and so much interactions with other actors ;;#I can hear stanley asking that question LMAO #Please remember to check the sources and show some support if you can!

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artist-issues · 2 years ago

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About Greta Gerwig, Little Women, and Narnia

Greta Gerwig should not be in the Narnia realm at all. As anything.

The Narnia stories are inseparable from Christianity. Greta Gerwig is a Unitarian Universalist. This means she, in her own personal life, doesn’t believe in the saving work of Jesus Christ, which is a core belief of Christianity, and a core theme in Narnia. Everything in the Narnia books hinges on this, from the character motivations to the structure of the fantasy world to the way the magic in Narnia works.

Additionally, the women in Narnia do not adhere to post-modern or even antique feministic values. They are celebrated for their love and tender-heartedness and faith, all of which require self-sacrifice. Aravis of The Horse and His Boy starts out a proud warrior escaping an arranged marriage and ends up a humbled lady of Archenland court marrying the Prince. Susan Pevensie is at her best when she’s tender-hearted and at her worst when she doubts and becomes more concerned about her own identity than others. The school that Eustace and Jill go to in The Silver Chair is derided for it’s feministic views. By contrast, modern feminism is opposed to self-sacrifice, and that is the kind of thing Greta Gerwig demonstrates belief in throughout all of her works.

Am I saying that no person who isn’t a Christian or some type of conservative when it comes to feminism can ever work on Narnia? Absolutely not. I’m not saying that. Lots of people on the Walden Media Narnia movie (the first one), which was great, were not Christians and did not believe in the saving work of Christ. But they stayed faithful to the source material, even if they didn’t believe in the source material themselves. So the story retained it’s autonomy and power.

Greta Gerwig can’t do that. She has already demonstrated that she does not know how to make a story that hangs on to it’s integral source material if she, herself, doesn’t agree with that source material. She can’t be objective, and therefore, she can’t be faithful to what Narnia is.

How do I know that? Little Women.

I don’t care if you liked the Little Women movie by Greta Gerwig. I don’t care if the acting was “amazing” and I don’t care if Timothee Chalamet and Florence Pugh are great in it. I said exactly what I said. Greta Gerwig made a great movie—but she made a terrible adaptation of Little Women.

It was not Little Women. She made changes to Little Women. What changes, you ask? Changes to the specific pieces of the source material that did not reflect Greta Gerwig’s personal views.

That’s the cardinal sin for directors of adaptive stories or remakes—to make changes to the core themes of a classic tale, because you don’t agree with those core themes. That’s called mutilation, not “updates.”

Here’s how she did it in two major ways in Little Women:

She cut out Jo’s humble response to Friedrich’s gentle rebuke of sensation stories, and replaced it with a feministic self-pitying outburst from Joe and s borderline apathetic, cool piece of feminist advice from Friedrich. That takes all the continuity out of it and warps the characters. That scene is so pivotal in the book. It’s Jo, respecting a man who is much older and excellent in character than any other she’s ever known, and feeling immediately humbled by him calling her out. She’d never have responded that way if Laurie called her out. They would have argued. But this scene was supposed to show what Jo needed from a future romantic partner. She needed someone she respected, someone who could be wise and gentle—two things Laurie is not. She needed someone who would help her take her eyes off of worldly success and herself, and onto eternal benefits to mankind, specifically, the effect her stories might have on children. His gentle, respectful, wise love (and the love of characters like Beth) turns Jo from a self-absorbed writer into a selfless mother, like her own Marmee.

But Greta Gerwig never wanted Jo to be a selfless mother. She wanted, and I quote, “Jo’s love to be her work, and her romance with Friedrich secondary.” You know why?

Because that’s what Greta Gerwig believes in. Greta Gerwig’s life is her work. Watch any of her movies, you’ll see the smudge marks of that wholehearted belief all over them. She can’t even be objective when the whole point of a character is to make work secondary, as was certainly the case with the character of Jo March. No. She has to twist up one of the best American heroines ever into an automaton of herself.

The second way she mutilated source material is with Amy and Laurie. In the books, Amy and Laurie grow to love each other out of the character deficiencies that they make up for in one another. At the start of their courtship, Amy is ambitious and Laurie is lazy. Amy wants to marry for advantage, and Laurie wants to make much of his spurned love for Jo by giving up on life. And that’s it.

It’s Amy who first wakes up to feeling something romantic toward Laurie, not Laurie, and Laurie is not the first to make a move on her. Laurie does not know he is in love with Amy until well after she knows she loves him. Then, he does not make the first outward advance on Amy. They both come to the same conclusion together; when they do, she does not resist. In Greta Gerwig’s version, he’s back to falling in love with a girl who’s resisting, because that’s where Timothee Chalamet’s emotional acting shines or whatever.

But that’s not the worst part. The worst part is that she adds a feminism speech from Amy, as a reason for her resistance, and she subtracts the scene where Laurie actually proposes. The scene where Laurie proposes, in the book, is so beautiful.

The two characters are in love, they know they’re in love, and neither of them is insecure about it. Amy has learned that she needs a life-partner who knows her and will protect her, like her old home-values did, and not some rich aristocrat or prince. Laurie has learned that he needs a life-partner who can stir him toward change, not through big explosive arguments and hope of conquered affection like Jo, but with gentle love and sheer inspiration, found in Amy.

So, in the most beautiful analogy for courtship that ends in marriage ever, he proposes to her while they’re rowing on a lake. She’s sitting next to him in the middle of the boat, she’s got one oar, he’s got the other, and she says, “How well we pull together, don’t we?” And he says, “so well that I wish we might always be in the same boat. Will you, Amy?” And she says “yes.”

That’s it. No argument. No big, passionate, sentimental explosion like he had with Jo. No wrenched and broken heart-strings. He didn’t have to convince her. She didn’t have to resist. Because entirely without force, and entirely without insecurity, they protected each other’s hearts and came to a conclusion that was based on something so much deeper and more eternal than fleeting passion.

Greta Gerwig cut that out and listened to Meryl Streep and put in another stormy lover’s-quarrel speech from Amy about why she couldn’t be with Laurie because she was in Jo’s shadow, and feminism and marrying for advantage, blah blah blah. It’s terrible. It’s mutilation. It ruins everything the original Little Women had.

it doesn’t matter if she got some of the characters right. It doesn’t matter if she got a lot of the quotes right. It doesn’t matter if all of Act 1 of the movie is mostly-book-accurate. If you change load-bearing themes or character motivations, you show that you can’t be objective and faithful to the source material.

It is fine if Greta Gerwig wants to make a movie about a woman who loves her work more than anything else. It is fine if she wants to make a movie about how women are under-appreciated for their minds and souls, and have characters that go on a journey to prove it. But it is not fine to use someone else’s story to say it. Make your own story, Greta Gerwig.

Oh, you already did? See: Lady Bird? See: Frances Ha? Then come up with something new. Don’t shoehorn your same beliefs into every franchise that is offered to you, like vomiting, then eating the vomit and regurgitating it over and over in new colors. Figure out how to tell someone else’s story in a faithful way, objectively, or else keep your stained hands off until you can clean them up. Especially, keep them off Narnia.

Greta Gerwig makes movies for Greta Gerwig, by Greta Gerwig. She can’t be objective, and for that, she can’t do Narnia. She can’t do it justice, she can’t do it faithfully, because she makes movies for herself, by herself.

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