#so many questions that may never be answered...

[yoyowrites]

sj being a slightly unhinged history teacher and he takes his students to the most dangerous places. they're safe (mostly) as long as they stay by his side.

"-now a days, this area is offlimits. any questions?"

"ah shizun," luo binghe shyly raises his hand. "if that demon monster was completely sealed, and it's been so many years, why is it still off limits?"

the room felt several degrees cooler and binghe wondered if he'd somehow overstepped. shen jiu was completely still except for a quick uptick of the corner of his lips.

"would my disciple really like to know?"

there was no way for binghe to know but both ning yingying and ming fan were both begging for him to answer no in their heads. what binghe did know, was that sj was giving him a look other than indifference. so, binghe eagerly nodded.

shen jiu's smile grew wider, "let's go, then."

and off the three went to a section right off the edge of the forbidden area. despite being several feet away from the flags that marked the zone as closed off, the disciples could feel the demonic energy radiating from there. sj gleefully (well as gleefully as a man who never seemed to show emotions other than apathy) explained that the monster had indeed been sealed for over a century but energy cannot truly be destroyed only changed and that while it may not seem like it, there were plants that grew that that absorbed the demonic energy and it just needed more time. mf is barely keeping himself upright. nyy is a bit green and asking to go back. lbh is very confused

[tanzaniiite]

IDIOT • EDDIE & VOLT

requests: open

warnings: drinking/being drunk (nothing major)

word count: 1.9k

a/n: thank you so much for the request! i’m so glad this game has gotten me out of my two-year hiatus TvT these prompts are from my prompt list. but feel free to send me any original ideas you may have!

prompts: “i’m serious!”/ “…you’re smiling.” • “how much did you drink?” • “i’m not that drunk!”

*cross-posted on ao3

“We’re closed.”

Eddie’s gruff voice called out, not even bothering to look up from the glasses he was polishing. He expected the wayward patron to leave, the familiar squeak of the door signaling their departure. What he didn’t expect was to hear a voice, one he’s grown to know as Beverly.

“I know, I know. But it’s… important?”

This garnered Eddie’s attention, as his eyes located the personified mini bar, he noticed another being. Slumped against Beverly, with all the poise of a fawn learning how to walk, was you. Immediately, a sense of both irritation and protectiveness washed over Eddie. He moved from behind the bar, making his way over. “What did you do?” He asked, his expression dark and stoic but his voice giving away his concern. Beverly shrunk slightly under Eddie’s fierce gaze, laughing nervously,

“Well.. they offered to help me test out some new drinks, right? So, we started with mocktails and gradually made our way to cocktails and it.. just… kept.. going?”

Eddie just stared and Beverly continued her spiel. 

“I did eventually cut them off, obviously. But we were having so much fun and they were complimenting my drink making. And you know business has been slow and they’re literally my only customer–”

“Yeah, yeah. I got it.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Eddie took a deep breath. “You couldn’t take them to Betty? Having them sleep it off is a better idea than taking them to another bar.” He stated. “They specifically asked for you and Volt. And I know you know how stubborn drunk people are.” Beverly explained, hoisting you up a little. While Eddie’s expression remained neutral, the subtle heat of his face flushing wasn’t lost on him. “Right. I guess we can–”

“Is that our live wire, I see?”

“Volt!”

For the first time since entering the Breaker Box, you spoke. Arms extending out as Volt approached, nearly face planting if it weren’t for him catching and holding you steady. As happy as he was to see you, Volt was perplexed by your drunken state. Normally, you never have more than two drinks with them so this was new. Volt looks at Eddie, a silent question in his expression. “Beverly had them test out several new drinks, many of which were alcoholic. Clearly.” Eddie stated, his sharp gaze never leaving Beverly. Another nervous chuckle escaped the minibar, “Haha, well I guess I better go. Bye!” And just like that she was gone.

Volt chuckled to himself, not taking this nearly as seriously as Eddie was. You could feel his laugh reverberate in chest, making you nuzzle into him more. Eddie just took in your state, as if contemplating on what to do next. “How much did you have to drink, hm?” Volt inquired, leaning his head down slightly to look you in the eye. You shrugged, meeting his gaze, “I dunno, like five? Six-ish?” You answered, your voice slurred. “They’re still coherent, that’s good.” Eddie commented, moving back to the bar to get, what you assumed is, water. Your bottom lip jutted out a bit and eyebrows furrowed, as Volt gently guided you to a booth. 

“Don’t talk like ‘m not here.”

“Sorry.”

Once you sat down, Volt slid in the booth next to you, taking the glass of water Eddie handed to him and slid it in front of you. “Don’t take it personally, live wire. That’s Eddie’s way of showing he’s worried.” He explained. “I’m not worried. You had a few drinks, I don’t care. I’m more concerned about you drinking yourself into a state like this.” Eddie rebutted, deciding to stand rather than sit, subconsciously cracking his knuckles as he spoke. “What? ‘m not even that drunk!” You exclaimed, your voice way too loud considering the three of you were in close proximity to each other. “Right. Like you weren’t barely standing when Beverly brought you here. And damn near fell when Volt came over. Totally sober.” Eddie remarked, a sarcastic lit to his voice. Your brows furrowed once more as you looked off to the side, “You’re mean.” You comment, resting an elbow on the table along with your head in your hand. 

Eddie scoffed in disbelief, looking to Volt for back up. “You are being a bit harsh, Eddie.” Volt added, a small smile still on his lips, clearly enjoying whatever this is. Eddie starts to speak before cutting himself off and sighing. He squats down on your side of the booth, a gentle hand taking residence on your knee. “Look. I don’t mean to be mean, I just– what if Beverly didn’t decide to escort you here? What if you decided to head here on your own? And you tripped on the stairs or something, breaking Skylar in the process. You could hurt yourself or worse and at the end of the day we’re still just objects. You would’ve been on your own.” Eddie stated, taking a breath. You hadn’t thought of that, though your thoughts were a bit scrambled in general at the moment. But, nevertheless, Eddie’s words resonated with you.

“You’re right, ‘m sorry for making you worry..”

“I’m not– it’s fine.”

Standing back up, Eddie gestures for you to scoot over and you oblige. Now sandwiched between the two, Volt slides the forgotten glass of water in front of you. “You should drink some, just to sober up a bit, yeah?” He suggests. You start to whine but Eddie isn’t having it, “Drink the water, it’s non-negotiable” He states, tapping the side of the glass. You huff and drink a tiny sip, drinking some more when Eddie gives you a look. “How are you feeling overall?” Volt hums, his arm draping over your shoulder and rubbing your arm a bit. “Tired, nauseous–” You start. “Don’t throw up.” Eddied interjected. “I wasn’t planning on it?” You reply, rolling your eyes. 

Volt laughs at the banter, “That’s our live wire. You’re definitely feeling better if you’re giving Eddie an attitude” He comments. You sigh, leaning against Eddie, your eyes fluttering close. “Wouldn’t you be more comfortable in your bed?” He asks, seemingly opposed but shifting to make you more comfortable. You say nothing, shaking your head as a response, turning to nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck. “You smell good.” You hum sleepily, inhaling his scent deeply. Sober you would be absolutely mortified by your drunk actions but that was a tomorrow problem. Volt snickered, coughing into his hand in a poor attempt to disguise it. He busied his hands, taking hold of your legs and lifting them up into his lap, stroking your calf gently as your breathing begins to even out.

Eventually, the pair felt your body relax completely, a clear indicator that you were asleep. “Should we take them to Betty?” Eddie asked quietly as his hand hesitantly came to stroke your side. “What? You don’t want to be their bed for the night?” Volt teased, smiling widely as a blush bloomed across Eddie’s face. “No. Skylar’s eventually gonna run outta charge and we have no idea of knowing when.” He stated, looking off to the side. “That’s true.. But do you really think they’re going to let us move them? They look mighty comfortable snuggled up next to you.” Volt chuckles, vaguely gesturing at your sleeping form. You were completely pressed against Eddie, face in his neck, one arm loosely wrapped around his waist, while your legs were resting on Volt’s lap. Eddie closed his eyes, huffing in response, he knew Volt was right.

“I didn’t finish closing.”

“Hm.”

“All that prep work is gonna be a bitch tomorrow.”

“Right.”

“But…”

“But?”

“I guess I don’t mind.. staying here… like.. this.”

This time Volt didn’t tease, just hummed slightly, acknowledging Eddie’s words. And so they sat, the two of them with you sandwiched in between them. “You know.. if this is the only way to get you to slow down and take a break, maybe our live wire should get drunk more often.” Volt commented, smirking slightly when Eddie groaned. “God no. They better not make this a habit, you’re both already enough to deal with sober. We don’t need to add alcohol in the mix.” He muttered. There was a brief silence before Volt spoke again. “You really care about them, hm?” Volt asked softly, knowing that being vulnerable wasn’t Eddie’s strong suit. Eddie stayed silent for a moment. “I mean, yeah. Don’t you?” He replied, the question rhetorical. 

“Of course, I just didn’t know about all your worries, have you always felt like that?” Volt continued, his eyes somber. “Not always but recently.. I don’t know. I guess you can say they’ve grown on me. And it doesn't help that this house is so big and that they're so clumsy. Anything can happen and we’d be none the wiser.” Eddie explained, his eyes downcast as he continued to rub your side gently. He sighed deeply, looking as though admitting his worries took years off his lifespan. “I really didn’t mean to be so.. y’know? They can just be so careless sometimes and it’s concerning. But I could’ve chosen my words better.” He admits. Volt nods, “You’ve never been too good with people. But you’re good with them, you apologize and explain your reasoning. I think they understand and don’t hold it against you.” Volt replies, reaching over to pat Eddie’s shoulder. 

A beep emanated from your glasses, disrupting the peaceful atmosphere, most likely indicating a low charge.

“I guess that’s our cue.” Eddie muttered, his grip on your shirt tightening slightly. “Do you want to take them or should I?” Volt asked, knowing that at least one of them should stay behind, just to keep an eye on the Breaker Box. Eddie lifted you off of him slightly, pausing as you mumbled something incoherent, before looking to Volt. “You can take them. I’ll stay here.” He answers. Volt gives him a look, almost as if to say, “Are you sure?” But Eddie waves him off. Volt gently moves your legs off him, moving to stand and swiftly takes you into his arms. Immediately, you're nuzzling into his neck next, as if your body craves that closeness. “I had no idea our live wire was so cuddly.” He comments, his head dipping down to kiss your forehead. Eddie says nothing as he stands as well, moving towards you and planting a chaste kiss on your cheek. Already feeling Volt’s stare and hundred watt smile, Eddie groans.

“Don’t say shit.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“But you want to.”

“Nope, I’m so serious about this.”

“...you’re smiling.”

And it was true, Volt was smiling, glad to know both of them have mutual feelings toward you. “I’ll be back.” He says, making his way to the entrance. Eddie nods silently watching the two of you leave. God, you were going to be the end of him.

The next morning, you woke up with the worst cotton mouth you’ve ever experienced to date. And the pounding in your head made it no better. You were for sure saying no to Beverly next time she offered bottomless taste testing. You turn over, placing your pillow over your face, in a poor attempt to block out the sun. You could just close Curt and Rod but if you got up, you were afraid the vertigo would hit you hard. Eventually, you removed the pillow, only to notice something on your nightstand. A glass of water, a small cup with three pills in it, and a note. Undoubtedly from Eddie and Volt, just from the tone alone.

Don’t be such an idiot next time.

Feel better live wire!

- E & V

tanzaniiite © 2025 — all rights reserved. do not repost, modify, or copy. do not plagiarize. thank you.

[the-violet-diaries]

The Morning After You've Taken Your Life x the LaDs Boys

warnings: angst, over dosage, suicidal topics

a/n: I'm going through an extremely difficult time right now. It feels like life has come to a full halt and I've found myself in an empty spot, having unconsciously strayed from the path a long while ago. If you are also drowning in life as if stranded in dangerous waters right now, please know that although you may feel alone in your household or life, but definitely not in the entire world. As much as we all wish it was, escaping is not a permanent solution, and it will never be. You, me, we will all someday look back on this day and realize we have become the version of ourselves we yearned to become most. I feel you. So on behalf of all the boys,

Please do not leave. You are not a burden. You are not alone.

I would suggest reading them in order: Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus, Caleb

The last of the rough stone-like pills are pushed down your throat. And it's over. Done. You're gone. Once again.

And this time, for good.

Among many passersby is a very busy Dr. Zayne, who, having parked his car on the other side of the street from your apartment, is unloading a box of freshly baked macarons. As the bloodcurdling cries from above of a name very well-known to him reach his ears, the usually stoic man's eyebrows knit together, and his gaze immediately drifts to the apartment building. Not out of confusion, but concern.

Usually ever the mannered and law-abiding man, Zayne's caution is now thrown to the wind as he rushes across the street. Oblivious of the honks of cars as they screech to halts just mere feet away from him, he makes his way to the other side, the hands gripping the warm package now beginning to sweat.

Stopping a man that gets down from one of the ambulances amidst the cluster of emergency vehicles that has quickly started to form on the curb, Zayne questions him in a low, trembling voice, fighting to push the sinking feeling further down his chest. Silently praying not to receive the answer he fears hearing most.

As the man briefly replies and then returns to the vehicle to help his teammate pull out a roller bed, Zayne feels his entire world tilt on its axis.

Eyes wide open and glazed over with something colder than any ice crystal, Zayne falls to his knees, completely unbothered by the brutal bleeding along his leg caused by the sudden descent. The box of macarons crashes to the ground, bittersweet treats splaying across the cement surface.

Zayne's arms hang loose at his sides. His lips part, mouth falling open in a painfully round "0." Every single sound around him blends into the distant commotion until all that's left in his ears is a sharp high-pitched ringing noise. A hundred questions race through his mind, a thousand thoughts begin to form, and a million regrets take shape.

Would arriving a few minutes earlier have saved you? Would giving you one extra kiss over the phone last night, staying at your place for one more moment before leaving for the hospital have given you the hope or will to keep going? If only he hadn't cut the call early, if only he hadn't left for his night shift. Would he have been able to save you? You, who meant much more to him than just another patient? He should have sensed something was wrong. He should have asked you if you took your meds. He should have left you one extra sweet treat. He should have...

Pupils wandering away from the hectic medical team pushing the roller bed into the big double gates of the apartment building in the distance, Zayne's eyes instead dilate to focus on the crushed box that lays abandoned by the roadside, countless rushing feet carelessly stomping left and right over the once-treasured confections. His shattered heart forms a perfectly identical reflection of the dirt-covered chocolate treats: A macerated dessert, having lost its purpose to be.

You did this. You left her there. All alone.

And as the rhythm of his once harmoniously beating heart grows progressively constrained, a single question runs at an agonizingly restrained pace through Zayne's slowly unraveling mind over. And over. And over again.

Where did I go wrong this time?

Once again, if you are suffering, please do not end it. Though it may seem like it, it is not a permanent release. Trust me, I have been there and am still struggling. The boys would never wish this on you, either. So please. Please stay with us. Stay with me.

~ Vi

[theskywithin]

SOUL ASTROLOGY - The Third House Through The Signs

From a soul perspective, the Third House is about mental awakening through contradiction. The environment the soul chose to sharpen perception, to question the obvious, to learn how to separate pattern from truth. And the sign on the cusp shows how you process complexity: whether you organize it, absorb it, filter it, challenge it, or whether you’re still learning how to quiet the echo of thoughts that were never fully yours. This isn’t about speaking clearly, it’s about thinking clearly in a world that taught you to do the opposite.

Third House Aries

Your inner voice doesn’t wait. It answers before you finish asking, interrupts before you realize you’re uncertain. There’s a pace to your mind that comes not from confidence, but from memory, the kind that formed in noise, where slowness let something in you get lost. So you filled the silence. You learned to process complexity by moving through it too quickly to feel it. You reached for the sharpest thought, the clearest line, because ambiguity once felt dangerous. And even now, your mind still mistakes pause for threat. Still believes that to hesitate is to lose something you don’t yet understand. But this house isn’t asking you to slow down. It’s asking you to listen beneath the momentum. To notice which thoughts return when no one’s listening. To trace the edges of certainty and ask who taught you to call it truth. Your voice doesn’t need to be quieter. It needs to be yours. And that’s the work now: not to fight the noise but to find out what’s been echoing all this time that never actually belonged to you.

Third House Taurus

Some thoughts don’t loop, they settle. They sink into the walls of the mind like old furniture: unmoving, unexamined, too familiar to be questioned. You came back with a voice that learned to make sense of noise by anchoring to repetition. By trusting what stayed. By choosing thoughts that didn’t ask too much of you. There were lives where contradiction broke something open you couldn’t afford to lose, so you taught yourself to hold still. To believe what was solid. To silence the questions that shook the ground beneath what you knew. You processed complexity by keeping it out. By building a rhythm that could survive interruption. By making sure the story stayed the same, even when the feeling changed. But this house wants more than stability. It wants honesty. It asks what you’ve kept because it was easier than unlearning it. It asks what you repeat that no longer reflects what you believe. It asks what part of you is still trying to keep the peace inside your own head by pretending nothing’s changed. The voice you inherited may still speak in your tone. But now, the soul is learning to hear what’s beneath it, the part that knows thought can shift without the self falling apart. Not every idea that stayed was true. Not every echo deserves to stay.

Third House Gemini

Your inner voice speaks in layers. Not one tone, but many. Not one truth, but a mosaic of maybes. You came back with a mind that learned early how to think its way out of tension, how to name, reframe, reword, until the sharp edge of a contradiction dulled into possibility. In other lives, that saved you. Kept you safe by keeping you moving. You processed complexity by collecting it. By turning every question into a corridor, every answer into a doorway. But eventually, the hall fills, the echoes blur, and the voice that once helped you navigate becomes hard to recognize as your own. This house asks you sift. To ask which voices belong, and which ones you’re still carrying out of habit. To stop assuming that movement is the same as understanding. To notice which thoughts you keep chasing because they never asked you to choose. It’s not your speed that needs softening, it’s your permission to pause. To land on one sentence long enough to hear what it actually means. To let the mind stop mid-loop, not because it failed, but because you’re no longer afraid of being held in one thought at a time.

Third House Cancer

Your inner voice speaks in atmospheres. It moves like fog through memory, touching everything before it forms a thought. You came back with a mind trained on temperature, the heat in a glance, the chill in a silence, the way love sounded different depending on who was in the room. You learned to process complexity by absorbing it. By reading the weather before the weather spoke. By carrying the weight of moods that weren’t yours, just to keep the peace that never stayed. But this house is where the soul learns that not every feeling needs to be interpreted. That not every shift in tone is a message meant for you. That you are allowed to think without translating emotion. That your clarity does not have to come second to someone else’s comfort. You don’t have to loop every sentence through how it might land. You don’t have to parent your thoughts to keep them from being too much. This time, the voice becomes your own, not an echo, not a mirror, but a language that doesn’t apologize for what it knows.

Third House Leo

You came back with a mind that guards its center with quiet loyalty to something inside you that must not be touched. You learned to protect your clarity the way someone protects a flame in wind. To think from the middle of yourself and keep that middle intact, even when everything around you asked for something easier to understand. There were lives where truth made you a target. Where being certain cost you closeness. So you trained your thoughts to glow, not burn. To translate before they landed. To make your knowing easier for others to carry, even when it cost you the weight of your own conviction. But this house is not where you filter.This house is where you remember what your voice sounds like when it’s not adjusting itself. The soul is here to be rooted even when no one’s listening, even when the light goes out, even when the thoughts feel too heavy to be beautiful. Let the inner voice return to its own orbit, steady, unmoved, not waiting for reflection to know it’s real.

Third House Virgo

Your inner voice sorts while you sleep. It loops through moments that others forget, scanning for what could’ve been said better, understood faster, felt more cleanly. You came back with a mind shaped in disorder where the only safety was in refinement. Where every stray thought was examined until it became manageable. Where every contradiction had to be solved before it could be felt. So your clarity became a form of labor. You learned to process complexity by reducing it, not to diminish it, but to survive it. And even now, you second-guess what you know just to be sure it’s still allowed to be true. This house doesn’t ask you to stop noticing. It asks you to notice differently. Not every sentence needs to be improved, some thoughts are meant to stay unsorted, raw, unfinished, alive. Let the voice get messy. Let it double back. Let it say the wrong thing and keep speaking. There is no prize for the tidiest mind, let the thought sit on the shelf without being polished. Let the dust speak, too.

Third House Libra

Your inner voice arranges itself like a room before company arrives. You think in softened edges, curated phrases, sentences trimmed into symmetry. Not out of pretense, but memory. There were lives where the wrong tone unraveled everything. Where honesty had a price. Where speaking clearly meant losing connection, so the soul learned to layer its truth in velvet. You processed complexity by asking how it would be received, not whether it was real. And even now, your thoughts pass through a hundred small doors before they reach you, each one shaped by someone else’s comfort. But this house asks what happens when no one’s watching the décor, what happens when the voice stops tidying and starts naming, when the thought arrives before it’s ready to be understood. You’re here to find the thought that keeps echoing long after the silence returns. Let it be uneven. Let it be exact. Let it be yours before it becomes beautiful.

Third House Scorpio

Your inner voice speaks like it’s digging. It doesn’t skim, it sinks. You came back with a mind that mistrusts what comes easy, a voice trained to listen past the first answer, the polished version, the story that feels too clean to be real. There were lives where surface meant danger. Where smiling meant silence. Where knowing the truth came at the cost of belonging, so you learned to keep your thoughts behind locked doors, guarded even from yourself. You processed complexity by holding it in shadow, by turning it over until the pain felt familiar enough to translate. Even now, your thoughts circle the wound before they name it. Even now, your clarity waits for proof it will never be betrayed. But this house is not a vault. It is a window. And the soul is not here to decode everything, it is here to trust what it already knows. What if the thought didn’t have to survive interrogation? What if the voice didn’t have to protect you from what’s no longer coming? Some truths don’t shout because they were never trying to be found. Some knowing doesn’t arrive through effort, but through surrender, the kind that happens when you stop turning your mind into a weapon against your own insight. Let the voice speak without permission. Let it name what never had language. Let it be the one to open the door you’ve been guarding all your life, not to let anyone else in, but to finally let you out.

Third House Sagittarius

Your inner voice looks far to feel near. It learned to stretch its thoughts across great distances, to cast meaning like a net, hoping if the thread reached far enough, the chaos might start to make sense. You came back with a mind shaped by the need to explain what hurt too much to hold. To give the unspoken a shape. To make pain sound like purpose so it wouldn’t echo as loss. There were lives where staying small was a trap, where not knowing meant not surviving, so you taught your thoughts to gallop. To outrun the ache. To name the confusion before it named you. But this house doesn’t need a philosophy. It needs a presence. It asks what happens when you stop turning every contradiction into a metaphor for growth. When you stop escaping through insight. When you let the not-knowing take up space without spinning it into gold. The soul is not here to be wise. It is here to be honest. To say this hurts before saying this taught me something. To speak not like a preacher from the mountaintop, but like someone sitting on the floor of their own mind, hearing what’s been waiting to be felt without being turned into a lesson.

Third House Capricorn

Your inner voice learned to earn its right to speak. You came back with a mind that equated thought with labor, a voice that doesn’t rise until it’s sure it’s built something solid. There were lives where being wrong cost too much. Where understanding came second to survival. So you learned to measure your thoughts like blueprints, to organize your perception into something presentable. You processed complexity by controlling it. By turning feeling into function. By building internal scaffolding around the parts of you that were too soft to say aloud. Even now, your voice edits itself before it arrives. It seeks structure before it seeks truth. But this house is not a workplace. It’s a reckoning. It asks what happens when the performance ends, when the voice isn’t polished or proven, when the mind is allowed to break its own rules. You are not here to be right, you are here to be real. To say the thought before it’s finished. To speak not like a verdict, but like a beginning. There is wisdom in your precision but there is freedom in the mess you’ve never let yourself make.

Third House Aquarius

Your inner voice sounds like static at first, but only because it’s tuned to frequencies most people were taught to ignore. You came back with a mind shaped by exile, lifetimes where your way of thinking set you apart before you knew why. Where the questions you asked were met with silence, and the silence became your teacher. So you learned to listen from the edge. To study the system without entering it. To make sense of the noise by refusing to become it. You processed complexity like a scientist holding a dream in tweezers, close enough to examine, too fragile to touch. Even now, your thoughts hesitate before they land, circling the perimeter of belonging, unsure whether your language will translate. But this house doesn’t want translation. It wants contact. It wants the voice before it’s made understandable. It wants the raw code, the unfiltered signal, the thought that doesn't flinch before it speaks. Let yourself be the frequency no one warned you about. Let the inner voice come through distorted, strange, beautiful in its refusal to echo anything but truth. You didn’t come back to fit in. You came back to remember the sound of thinking for yourself.

Third House Pisces

Your inner voice moves like water through walls, like memory through sleep. You came back with a mind shaped by dissolving, lifetimes where thought was survival, but feeling was truth. Where the boundaries between your perceptions and the world’s pain were too thin to hold. So you learned to think like mist: evasive, intuitive, impossible to pin down. You processed complexity by letting it wash over you, by absorbing more than you understood, by carrying meanings that were never clearly spoken. Even now, your thoughts return like tides, half-yours, half-everyone’s. Stories you inherited without realizing, beliefs soaked in from the atmosphere, questions that never needed answers but linger anyway. This house asks you to listen through the blur. To trace the outline of the thought without needing to trap it. To stop assuming that clarity only counts if it’s linear. Some voices speak in symbols. Some minds remember through dreams. You are not here to think like everyone else. You are here to reclaim the softness that once cost you everything. To speak the thought that has no proof but still feels like home.

Decode every placement, every aspect, every point! understand your birth chart like never before !! my book explains it all ! :) link below

[oneinnocentprincess]

"Really?" She asked in pure surprise. "You carry yourself so well." He must know that, right? He was as confident as any other ruler she has met in the past, with a few exceptions. Yet he also managed to be reasonable at the same time. Even when before she was never that lower of a ranking compared to others, still then she’s been talked down to but not here. “I’m glad you understand.”

Cold was an interesting word she had not yet considered. Eleanor was not sure if she’s found a room that felt like that to her. Everything here felt like things she was destined to learn more about given time. Still there were plenty of rooms she had not yet seen, including his councils room. That may be categorized as cold rather than foreign to her. “I’m sure you’ll know when I’m not asking you or several staff members which way our chambers is.” Our. Such a strange thing to casually say. It did not feel like both of theirs yet, she felt like an extremely welcomed guess. Which was not at all terrible, but certainly not home.

"You are very competent." Eleanor emphasized. He was probably one of the most patient and understanding person she's met, ever. “I’d tell your council but…I have a feeling they will not believe me—which is their lost.” She’s sure staff spotting the couple together outside of ‘required’ time must have meant something, that word would spread. What that something was, she could not really describe.

“I need some time.” She said, carefully and hesitantly stating that boundary. She knows that’s not what she should be saying, diplomatically. However it was the truth. “I know I do not have to know every single bit of history of this kingdom but…I am sure there are children in the village who would best me at their knowledge on the kingdom.” Eleanor would hate to look like a fool or a coward to not answer any questions. “I also feel that if I go out there anytime soon I’ll break down like I did this evening.” There would be many emotions and while she’s sure he would be at her side to support her, she was simply not yet ready.

Oscar listened closely, his expression softening as she spoke. “It is a lot,” he agreed quietly, not trying to talk her out of it. “You’re not wrong to feel that way.” He looked down for a moment, then back to her. “I had years to prepare for this position… and I still have days where it feels like I’m playing catch-up. You were thrown in without warning — that’s not something anyone should expect you to just glide through.”

He gave a short, amused breath through his nose at her comment on his taste. “You’re being generous. Some of these rooms were inherited with very questionable curtains and I just… let them happen.” His tone was light, but there was gratitude in the glance he gave her. “But I’ll take foreign over cold. If it ever starts feeling even a little familiar, let me know — that’s progress.”

When she thanked him again, his brow lifted slightly, a quiet half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You know, if you keep thanking me this much, people are going to start thinking I’m very competent.” He gave a small, teasing pause before adding, “I don’t mind hearing it, but you don’t owe it to me. I’m just trying to make this less impossible.”

Her comment about the public made him nod in understanding. “There’s this idea that once the vows are spoken, you’re suddenly ready for every part of the role. But I don’t think that’s fair.” He glanced toward the window, thoughtful for a moment. “You’re not a symbol to parade out for reassurance—you’re a person who’s just had her life turned inside out.” He looked back at her, voice quieter. “You’ll step into that space when you decide to. Until then, let them wait. We’re not on their schedule.”

[maple-seed]

Thrown - Chapter 51: Solstice

Summary: The final preparations for are made for the longest days of the year.

Word Count: 2,192

Author's Note: Here we are, the penultimate chapter. Come back Saturday for the end.

Thrown Masterlist Loki Masterlist

"This is absurd." Loki scoffed. You shrugged, unaffected, packing a few tools and supplies into a cardboard box. "My dress, my rules." "If I don't see it beforehand, how can I know that it's appropriate for the occasion? If I'm to be seen with you then surely I should be aware." You cocked a brow. "You doubt Elof's skills? Should I tell him?" He frowned. Elof was unquestionably the best tailor around. Losing his favor would be unwise. Loki sulked and crossed his arms. "No. Obviously I would never call Elof's craftsmanship into question." "Great." You closed up the box. "Then it sounds like we don't have a problem."

Loki rounded the table, trying one last bid. "What if there is some adjustment that needs to be made?" "Well it would be too late now anyway, wouldn't it?" You poked him in the chest. "You'll just have to wait until tomorrow." "Darling," he took your hand with slanted brows, "had we but world enough and time...." You rolled your eyes and pulled your hand away. "It's one night. Stop being dramatic." You picked up the box and started toward the door. Loki scowled, glancing toward your bedroom and calling to you across the room. "Suppose I simply go have a look for myself? There are only so many places it might be." "It's not here at all." You called back. "Val agreed to hold onto it for me." "Traitor to the crown!" He hissed as he crossed the room, where you were waiting. "I'll see to it that she is punished." You smiled sweetly. "I'm sure you will." You nodded toward the door, which he opened and followed you through.

"There was a time when my threats were respected." Loki muttered as he walked down the road beside you. "I'm not sure how circumstances have changed so drastically." "You're not allowed to walk with me if you're going to pout the whole way." "I am not pouting." "What do you call it, then?" You shifted the box in your arms for a better grip. "Do you really intend to carry that all the way?" You looked at him sidelong. "A gentleman would have asked to take it by now." He smirked. "Ah, there's the trouble. I'm no gentleman. You can ask anyone. They'll all tell you the same: I'm a scoundrel." The box vanished in a ripple of green light. With your hands now free, you wore a thoughtful smile and laced your fingers with his. "I think maybe you're both." He brought your joined hands up to his lips to place a kiss on your knuckles. "Your good opinion is the only one I seek." "I never said it was good." He chuckled and squeezed your hand.

He only noticed now, but your pendant was missing from your ensemble. Unusual, he had quite possibly never seen you without it since he first presented it to you. "You aren't wearing your necklace." "I am not." Loki narrowed his eyes. "That wasn't an answer." You cocked your head with a smile. "I don't believe there was a question." A valid point, he conceded. "Well, I think-" "How's Thor doing, with everything?" He studied you for a moment. Clearly you had every intention of wriggling out of this line of questioning. He could circle back later. "He's worked himself into a near-frantic state. I feel like his mother, chasing after him to make sure he's eating and sleeping. It's ridiculous." You frowned. "Have there been any issues?" "No!" Loki threw his hand in the air. "That's the most ridiculous part. Everything seems to be going perfectly! It's almost as if he can't believe he's doing something well." He looked at you meaningfully. "I may need to enlist your nefarious skills to convince him to take a break this evening." You chuckled. "I'm always up for an underhanded good deed." He smiled softly. "This I know."

**

The hall truly was impressive. Not only the size, which was grand, but aesthetically it was the perfect representation of New Asgard. The materials largely fit in with the town's original Nordic style, but the form was reminiscent of their home realm. The building swept upward in ways that seemed to defy gravity, but where on Asgard much of it would have been gilded, here the stone and plaster finish remained. The pillars of the facade were much the same shape as one could have seen in the palace, and they were similarly carved with intricate knots, but these were wood rather than a polished gold or bronze. Thor had worked extensively with the designers to ensure that this hall fit the vision he had for their people, and it certainly paid off. The end result had the effect of being familiar, and traditional to Asgard, while also integrating here in their new home. Loki would have stopped to admire the building a bit longer, but he could tell you were anxious to see inside, so he wasted no time leading you through the door.

Inside the hall was a flurry of activity. Dozens of people bustling this way and that, hanging decorations, arranging tables and chairs, organizing supplies. Looking around, Loki would guess that the people working were an even mix of Æsir and humans. You stood in appreciative wonder, taking in the scene. Thor was nearby, holding a clipboard and speaking seriously with someone who was rolling a cart of kegs. Asbjorn and his sons had made a significant quantity of Asgardian spirits, and great care was being taken to ensure that they were clearly identified, marked, and segregated from the human liquors. Thor finished whatever his instruction might have been, the man dutifully continued on with his cart, and Thor took notice of the two of you.

He grinned and called your name, waving you over with the clipboard. You couldn't seem to keep your eyes in one place as you approached. "Thor, this is amazing! I've only seen it from the outside." He chuckled and spread his arms. "Well-met, and welcome to the hall of New Asgard." You gave him a knowing look. "I heard it's called Bilskirnir." Thor looked away bashfully and rubbed the back of his neck. "A nickname some have taken to calling it. The hall hasn't been given its name yet." "I have a feeling it's going to stick." You spoke with a smile. Thor shook his head and brushed off the comment. "Come, there is a little time, I can quickly acquaint you with the place."

Thor pointed out the banquet tables, which were already being laid out with warming plates, then here were the tables for guests, the dance floor, the space where the musicians were setting their chairs. He brought you onto the dais where he would stand and make his speech tomorrow night. He showed you the doors that open to the field out back. This hallway led to the kitchens, which were well-occupied, whereas these stairs led up to rooms that would one day serve to host guests. You were thoroughly impressed with all of it, naturally. As he brought you back to where he began, your gaze drifted up to the rafters. They were large dark wood beams, each was carved with runes, which had then been accented by gold leaf. The beams encircled and criss-crossed the room.

You pointed upward. "What do those say?" "They are names." Thor looked up at the rafters. "Of those we lost. So they are still here with us, where we celebrate." You bit your lip and stood quietly for a moment while your eyes traced the room again. "There's so many. I... I knew it was a lot, but seeing them all...." Thor patted your shoulder. "Yes. But we are still here, and we carry them with us as we can." You nodded as you looked up again at the rafters. "This was a great idea." "It was Loki who suggested it." You looked at Loki with an expression that made his heart swell. He gave a noncommittal shrug. "He's misremembering, I'm sure." Suddenly you had an arm around each of their necks, pulling them into a hug. You held them close and spoke softly. "Oh, boys, I'm so proud of you." Loki was grateful his face was hidden.

You stepped back and took a breath. "Okay, tour's over. Time to get to work." You surveyed the space, and presumably the tasks you intended to address, then turned to Loki. "Could you put my box over there?" Loki obliged, and your box of supplies appeared as directed. "Thank you. And now I think you two have your daily walk?" Thor grimaced. "Oh, I don't think so. There are still so many things to do." "Then how lucky we are that we have so many people to do them." You chirped cheerfully as you gestured to those working throughout the room. "Truly, there just isn't time-" "Sure there is." You slipped the clipboard out of his hands before Thor even recognized what was happening. "We can manage for a few minutes without you." "But..." He looked to Loki helplessly. Loki shook his head. "I find it's easier not to fight it." You scoffed. "You fight me every time." Loki smirked as he leaned toward you. "Well, that's because I enjoy a challenge." "I simply can't." Thor cut in with what was likely meant to be a firm tone. "Of course you can." You easily dodged Thor's attempt to retrieve the clipboard. "Go on, I promise to save some work for you to do when you get back." You had turned him by the shoulder and were pushing him toward the door.

"Loki, please." Thor pleaded over his shoulder. Loki was following behind casually. "Brother, I don't know why you are still laboring under the delusion that either of us have a say in this matter." He placed a sympathetic hand on Thor's shoulder as he began walking him to the door. "Bending to her will is really the only option." "That's the spirit!" You quipped with a smile and hung back as they continued forward. "Have a good time! We'll still be here." "I... I suppose a short break...." Thor relented as his feet carried him outside.

Loki looked over his shoulder and shot you a wink. You flashed a proud smile before turning on your heel and setting to task.

**

"-and it's completely ludicrous." Loki fumed. "She refuses to let me see the dress at all before tomorrow evening." Thor nodded sagely. "It's understandable. The dress is very becoming, I can see why she would prefer the reveal to be a surprise." "You've seen-!" Loki stopped short and carefully studied Thor, who had continued a few paces before turning back to his brother with a blank expression. Loki narrowed his eyes. "She did not show you the dress." Thor laughed and kept walking. "It suits her so well, you'll be very pleased with it." Loki quickly caught up. "I know she didn't show it to you." "You don't believe me. Here, let's ask her now." Thor was pulling out his phone. "Don't bother. I already know, she would catch onto your game and give the same obfuscating answers. Absolutely infuriating, the both of you." Thor broke into a hearty chuckle.

Their walk brought them out of the town, away from the road, into the surrounding hills. "There has been talk lately," Thor ventured, with eyes cast firmly to the ground as he walked, "among the townsfolk, the elders. They've been speaking of a coronation." "Hm. Rightly so." Thor looked surprised. He nodded. "You are so very different from the Thor that I once knew." Loki glanced at him for just a moment before looking forward again. "The Thor I knew was brash, careless, boastful. Not someone ready for the throne. I've seen you now; thoughtful, considerate, wise. You work hard for your people and take nothing for granted." He turned to meet Thor's eyes. "You've grown into a great leader, and one that I would be honored to call my king." Thor did not respond immediately. They walked on for a moment more before he finally cleared his throat. "Thank you, brother." "Certainly."

They came to a stop at the crest of a hill. In the distance the hall was visible, as well as the field behind it, cast golden in the late afternoon. They could see people making preparations for Midsummer; moving furniture about, carrying supplies. Some were stacking wood for bonfires. Children were playing on maypoles. Figures scurried back and forth and from here it was difficult to tell which were human and which were Æsir.

They stood and watched in silence for several minutes. "Quite a sight." Loki finally remarked. "Agreed." Another moment was spent in quiet observation, when Loki turned to find Thor watching him with a strange, thoughtful look on his face. "What? What is it?"

Thor gave him a half smile. "I can't be certain what it will mean to you." He turned and looked out over the hills again. "But I happened to notice that the sun was shining."

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At the start of this chapter Loki is quoting the poem To His Coy Mistress by Andrew Marvell

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[hudsonpatootie]

Magic of Creation

Characters: Taesoo ma - Lookism

Warnings: none, just a light read.

“What kind of fairy are you?” That’s the question that came up along with a trend on the internet, where many people wondered which group from Tinker Bell’s fantasy world they would fit into based on their talents and personality. “I have a strong connection with animals, so maybe I’d be a fairy like Fawn,” or “I love cultivating all kinds of flower species, so I’d belong to the group of garden fairies alongside Rosetta.” You, however, never needed to question that—no, no—you knew exactly who you’d be: a tinker fairy.

You threw your phone aside when you read some comments from people saying they would feel disappointed or frustrated being a tinker in a world where you could talk to animals or control sunlight, as if that function were any less important than the others.

-“Screw them!”

That was your answer to those comments. You love your work and hated when someone belittled it, whether in reality or fiction.

-“Did those people not get the message from the first movie?”

As much as you tried to move on, those comments echoed in your mind for several days, you didn’t like seeing craftsmanship being undervalued, because it fed your insecurity regarding the path you chose to follow. It’s hard to pursue a career that’s your passion, but highly underestimated by others.

But luckily, you’re not the only one who appreciates it. Your boyfriend, Taesoo Ma, was always delighted to hear you talk about your profession. When you showed him some of your finished pieces, Taesoo noticed the care present in each one. To him, anything in contact with your hands could be molded into a masterpiece.

Your collection of creations was extensive: cups, vases, mosaics, birdhouses, ceramic items, among many others. After seeing a fox-shaped mug and a mosaic patterned with a pond full of lotus flowers, Taesoo liked knowing that his girlfriend also had an appreciation for nature, and for that reason, he invited her to spend an afternoon on his mountain.

“Many of your works are inspired by aspects of nature, so how about spending a day exposed to it?”

You accepted, you couldn’t refuse that opportunity. Spending a day in the presence of your love, turning off your mind from digital environments and searching for inspiration outside of your Pinterest was everything you needed at that moment.

The hike through the mountain was a unique experience. The landscapes awakened your creativity, the various types of raw materials in front of you made your hand itch to bring some back to your studio, and you mentally sketched everything you wanted to create inspired by the scenery before your eyes.

After settling in an open area, Taesoo began assembling a makeshift camp, something he was already very used to. When he finished, he approached you and was surprised to see you sketching a birdhouse project. The measurements, the sketch, the notes—everything was meticulously detailed. He stood above you, observing as you laid your ideas on paper.

-Oh, Taetae! I didn’t see you there, sorry — you smile — you were right, this place is a well of inspiration.

-Already thought about a new project? — he says, sitting next to you.

-Yes, there are a lot of birds here, so I thought about making a place for them to rest — you say as you pull some tools from your backpack.

-If I’d known you’d brought so many things, I would’ve offered to carry your backpack instead.

-Pff! I may not bring down a wild boar with my bare fists like you, but that doesn’t mean I’m weak. Do you know how many KG of clay I can mold?

-No, I don’t — he gives a small side smile — but I’d love to see you in action.

You sketch a few more details before turning again to the man and asking:

-You don’t mind if I make this to leave on your mountain, right?

-A gift made with your hands would be like having a little piece of you at my home—why would that bother me?

You smile, slightly embarrassed by the man's words. Taesoo’s comments supporting your art were like a lighthouse to your mind lost in a sea of negative thoughts.

After some time writing down everything you’d need to carry out your project and drawing all the details you wanted to include, you stared at the drawing, restless. Your mind began to wander, and thoughts about your future following your profession started to resurface.

-Something bothering you? — Taesoo says after noticing your discomfort.

-Can’t hide anything from you, huh? — you sigh — yes, my head is bubbling with thoughts.

-Go on.

-I’ve been feeling insecure about my profession. Don’t get me wrong, Taesoo, I love art and I feel like I was born for it. But sometimes I think maybe I should’ve kept crafting just as a hobby and not a profession.

-Do you really think that, or did people make you think that? — the man asks, suspiciously.

-I don’t know! Maybe I should’ve gone into a more stable field like medicine or law.

Taesoo sighs as he pulls one of his cigars from his pocket and steps slightly away so as not to bother you with the smoke. He takes a long drag before speaking again:

-You know... when I bought this mountain and built my house here, people said I should abandon it, just use the mountain as a place to spend time and live somewhere more stable and safe, like in a city condo.

-But I didn’t care about that. Life in the city might be more practical. But living there wouldn’t be living the way I want to.

-What I mean is: you should only take another path if it’s a choice from your heart, which I imagine isn’t your case.

— It’s hard, but sometimes the rockiest trail leads you to the most beautiful waterfall.

You had to hold back a tear that threatened to fall, you didn’t imagine Taesoo could be so poetic. Those words were everything you needed to hear. The storm in your mind dissolved and you felt embraced by the sun once again. You realized you didn’t need to focus on a thousand words of disapproval, but rather on just one of support.

-Thank you, Taesoo, truly...

-You’re welcome — he smiles, seeing the relief on your face.

-I don’t know what I’d be without you — you say, approaching the man and resting your head on his shoulder.

-You’d be a craftswoman, okay? A single craftswoman? Yes! But still, a craftswoman - he kisses your forehead warmly, while running his hand along your back, offering you a bit more comfort.

[losingdcgs]

Santiago nodded, hoping the suggestion didn't further add to the problem while he was earnestly trying to help. He may have been fine with suffering through a job he no longer felt impassioned by, but that didn't mean he wanted to see someone else go down that path. "While a break sooner rather than later may be helpful, there's no harm in admitting the timing doesn't work at this very moment and putting it off until summer break is over, so long as you intend to follow through with it. Which is easier said than done." How many things had he pushed to the side because of poor timing, swearing he'd return to it one day only to never do so? "With as busy as your summers sound, it might even fly by before you know it." Though if she was doing work she didn't enjoy too much, he wasn't so sure that was actually the case. In fact, it may make the three months drag at a snail's pace. And while he was generally honest, saying that now wouldn't do any good. He gave a small nod to acknowledge the thanks, "Well, here's hoping it helps you out some." Truth be told, he wasn't sure any of the advice he offered was that useful — clearly none of it had served him well. "Hmm that makes sense. There is a sort of comfort in knowing that there is ultimately one right answer. And if nothing else, I'm sure it makes grading a little easier as opposed to something like an open ended essay question."

"That's true." It's a point she hadn't considered. Had her selection of students just gotten worse or had she? Was it her exhaustion that had been making them more difficult to teach, or a shift in attitudes since she'd been their age? Mulling it over, it's hard not to think maybe she's in more need of a break than she'd ever realised. It'd be easier on her wallet to push through it, keep convincing herself that it'll get better and she'll eventually learn to love it again, but maybe not looking at equations for a little while will give her career a new lease of life, a revived purpose. "Honestly, you might be right. It couldn't hurt to try, too, I think. Well, maybe it could hurt my finances, but I could find a temporary gig to keep me afloat if I needed it." It feels like she's already putting the wheels into motion without even moving anywhere. "Probably best to do it soon, before summer break when I'm usually busier. Kind of bad timing right now, actually." She laughs nervously, tucking hair behind her ear. Maybe she'll power through the summer and reconsider in the new academic year, but that feels like continuing to push the problem away and that hasn't been working for her so far. "Whenever. You've given me a lot to think about whenever's best for it, anyway. Thank you." She hums. "As for that question, I just always loved how everything comes together— How there's just one right answer and there might be different ways to get there, but the final answer is fact, no room for argument or interpretation."

[banabraxs]

Just found out about Missing Link. At least I got to find out via memes, so there was at least a little humor in it for me. I am mourning the story we never got to see, like, there is so much I was looking forward to. Confirmation/denial of the theory that the player character is a reincarnation of the one from Union X, world building with the Keyblade wielders and Scala Ad Calum, what part Brain had to play in all this. I'm gonna go insane thinking about it all, there's so much we just lost with this. Man. I really hope they work out some way to get the story out at least, so we at least have some ideas of what happened in that time period.

[just-a-carrot]

"Iggy... tell me of your Wonderland..."

♠️♥️ Happy Halloween, all! ♣️♦️

[autisticlee]

it's so shitty and sad when people use you as a temporary way to get attention or affection and drop you as soon as they get a partner. like yeah i'm glad I was there for you when you needed someone but how are you doing to take away my friend when I also need someone and you were supposed to be that someone? why can't you have more than one "someone?" why cant we still be friends and keep what we had going while you have a partner? why was our friendship not important to you? why do you think it's ok to use me temporarily until you cam replace me with someone you deem more important? why am I supposed to be ok with that and not allowed to be upset by it? how can you become a daily or weekly part of my life that I enjoy having and then just disappear and give all that to someone else? why is the label "partner" so much more important than "friend" and you don't know how to keep both equally? why do I have to make sure you're not feeling lonely and sad because you don't have a partner, but you cant do the same for me? especially when I don't want a romantic partner? why do you not care how I feel? why don't you care that being used and thrown away hurts and crushes me just as much or more than you breaking up with a partner? why don't I deserve consistent and caring people permanently in my life, but you expect your partner to be there til death do you part? why does society in general value romance over friendship? why does everyone view people like me (who value friendship more) as clingy and annoying and a burden? why can't we normalize actually caring about your friends as much as people claim they do? why can't you show it instead of giving all your love and attention to a partner only? why cant we normalize talking to and hanging out with frien a regularly? why is talking to and hanging out with partners daily normalized, while NOT talking to and hanging out with friends for months is normalized? why is me wanting friends to be close and consistent and caring the way romantic partners are, minus the romance part, seen as weird, annoying, clingy, and asking for too much? why am i told to get used to being alone/doing everything alone? why is it wrong that i DONT want to be alone? especially in a world where everyone around me pairs off and ignores/avoids/forgets/abandons me? why does no one care how I feel and instead tell me to deal with it, when i'm trying so hard to force myself to choose to be alone, but it's not working? 😭

[jensensitive]

Q: Did being on Supernatural make you believe more in supernatural things or be more skeptical? […] Jensen: Honestly, I would say probably more skeptical, um, and that's because-- well, I guess I've always been a little bit of a skeptic. But, I felt like we were dealing with so much, especially early on that was all rooted in real mythology and real lore and real kind of urban legends that I was like, "If any of this stuff is real, we are really playing with fire, cause we're doing the real things." And nothing ever happened. So I kinda was like "eh, this is-- this is bullshit." Jared: I can send you the video of your house that you sent to me [danneel's ghost video] Jensen: That didn't happen on set! That was air conditioning.

[njcon24]

[sugurusladyknightt]

ur so American to me

ew. NONO IM KIDDING IM KIDDING 😭😭 nothing against americans i just hate the government and ik you guys do too so it's all good. lots of love 🫶🫶🫶🫶

the capital a and everything. American w a capital A

damn 😔 nonnie clocked me fr fr. was it the atrocious grammar and spelling that gave me away ??(kidding)

[vehemourn]

guy in mabinogi rolled up on a vespa and began polling

[jacks347]

The number of drafts I have is not nearly as concerning as the number of places I'm storing them

And somehow my Tumblr drafts are the most coherent

I will finish this Greasefire fic if it FUCKING KILLS ME

(There's also a BW fake dating fic mocking me THAT'S ON MY SHIT LIST NEXT)

[luck-of-the-drawings]

when i was in highschool one o my biggest coping mechanisms was drawing all the kids i hated getting killed and eaten and killed. and well. time is a slowly ascending spiral. you will find patterns.(i work as a blackjack dealer. gamblers are FASCINATING