In mythology, Zeus desired to vanquish humanity in some form, and he split them to destroy the power of unity. The result was that two pieces of the soul lost each other, and forever wander in search of reunion and oneness. The spirits that inhabit these two bodies can seem coincidentally similar, like their souls play the same music. How can astrology help find this person, the place where the counterpart of your divided soul rests? Probably not through synestry charts, compatibility factors, or consciously searching for the sign that magazines tell you that you have most potential with. These satiate the needs of the ego, and not the soul, that which reflects something greater.
Astrology refreshes consciousness with divine spiritual agreements. It points to potential brilliance, talents, obstacles, and resilience qualities. This is a personal journey. It requires looking into the self through a lense that society never revealed to you. It writes a manual for the personality and the deeper needs of the spirit. Astrology radiates the individual’s most pure Truth. When they are walking the map of the natal chart, whether this be by astrological knowledge or trusting intuition, bliss overrides the spirit and soul, the co-creator is creating with God, as God. The soul is vibrating to it’s highest frequency, exuding the cosmic talents that comprise the individual’s spiritual heart.
This frequency becomes like a radio signal. One that is true, pure, and genuine. At this point, the constant referral to astrology does not even have to be present. You are the Solar and Lunar, shining the way you have for centuries. This radio signal plays a song of its own. It has played this beautiful song since the very beginning, through many galaxies and lifetimes. This is a secret signal, a channel that can only be tuned by the other half of the soul. When the music is being played, the other soul can hear, it receives the signal. Through the noise, the chaos, the pain of the world, they will find each other, where two oceans meet.
Synopsis: You were called upon to become a despicable man’s mistress. But after running away, he continued to pursue you. You ran, expecting to find asylum. You ran, not expecting to find your knight in shining armor.
Disclaimer: This plot of this story is based upon the anime Snow White With The Red Hair. In no way do I claim the central idea/theme of this story as my own. That being said, it’s one of the best shows ever go watch it asdghfjk
“Lord Jongin wants me to be his what?”
“His concubine, madame.” The royal guard retorted apathetically. “In other words, his mistress.”
Your jaw was agape. You brought your hands to your arms, rubbing them in an attempt to combat the shivers than ran down your spine. You leaned against the doorpost of your shop, refusing to lessen your confidence.
“No, no, no,” You shook your head and held out your hands in protest. “There must be some kind of mistake, I’m sure of it. I’m just the town’s local herbalist!”
“Lord Kim Jongin has made no mistake, madame,” The guard’s eyes hardened. “He has taken a particular interest in the townsfolk’s rumors concerning your… Distinct appearance.”
He was referring to you alright. Ever since you arrived in town and set up shop, the townspeople quickly spread tale of your divergent physique.
Stark, snow-white hair that fell past your shoulders. Oftentimes a shade of shimmering silver in the sunlight.
You never knew how you came to look so different from the masses; you were orphaned at a young age and brought up by an old, travelling herbalist. That’s how you came to learn the trade yourself. The intricate mixing and application of every plant you could properly classify and diagnose. You loved helping people, which is why your heart became set on this profession. You came to this village because it neighbored the walls of the great kingdom, but was far enough off the beaten path to avoid unwanted attention.
Unwanted attention, however, is what you were faced with.
“That- That’s absurd.” You sputtered, trying to regain your composure. “That can’t be right. He… He can’t be interested in someone as common as me just because of my hair.”
“As you know, his highness is a gallant collector of exquisite rarities.” The royal guard before you remained emotionless. “Your unique, white hair has him innately intrigued.”
What a joke.
You, along with everyone else in the town, knew that Kim Jongin was nothing but a spoiled member of the hierarchy. One who often dealt in shady dealings, and could most easily be compared to a weasel in likeness.
“And as such, you have been chosen.” The guard continued, his face stern. “As a resident of this town, it is non-negotiable.”
Your knuckles turned white at the proposition.
“Tomorrow, you are to appear before his highness and accept his offer.”
Prompt: After five years of marriage and two kids, you and Bucky decide you can’t make it work anymore.
Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader
Word Count: 2348
Warnings: divorce, angst, cheating, language
A/N: well, strap in cos i got another part of this for you all. i am so so so sorry i have kept you all waiting. i hope this makes up for it. it’s a longer part so i hope that’s all right! just a small reminder that tagging is closed. HOWEVER, if you were on this list and changed your url, please let me know so i can update it.
“Yes.” You nodded in excitement, your hand holding tightly onto Bucky’s. His smile was so wide, it almost seemed unreal how happy he was.
“That’s…” Steve smiled a small smile and shook his head, you assumed in disbelief. “You guys are going to make great parents.”
“Thank you.” You grinned before placing a kiss on Bucky’s cheek.
“Have you told anyone else yet?” Steve’s eyes followed your every move and then focused down on your hand holding Bucky’s.
“Just my mom so far.” You stated.
“And now you, uncle Steve.” Bucky grinned, his hand leaving the grip of yours and landing on Steve’s shoulder. Bucky was overflowing with joy, but Steve… While he looked happy, you could tell there was something else lingering inside of him, something he wasn’t going to tell you. And it didn’t matter how hard you tried to pry it loose from his lips. So you let it go.
prompt: ‘i’m a prince/ss from a small country nobody’s heard of and i’m in college pretending not to be royal and you’re another student who’s always calling me out on my bs’ for anonymous
word count: 7973
Going to college is one of those things that Clarke has been preparing for her entire life. She has to really, considering that an extensive amount of research and preparation is required when you’re the Princess of a dated and stupidly antiquated form of government.
(Granted, the extent of her research only goes as far as to adding The Princess Diaries to her Netflix queue, but technicalities.)
Or: Clarke’s college experience would be a lot more pleasant if Bellamy Blake stopped trying to figure her out.
Going to college is one of those things that Clarke has been preparing for her entire life. She has to really, considering that an extensive amount of research and preparation is required when you’re the Princess of a dated and stupidly antiquated form of government.
(Granted, the extent of her research only goes as far as to adding The Princess Diaries to her Netflix queue, but technicalities. )
Still, none of it could have prepared her for Bellamy Blake.
The first time she meets him, he’s arguing with the professor about the required reading list.
It’s not like she means to listen in on their conversation, but he’s one of those people that you can’t help but notice—all bronzed skin and muscles and artfully mussed hair. Coupled with the way he’s furiously gesticulating with his hands and the frazzled expression on his face, and, well. She’ll admit that she’s sufficiently intrigued.
“This is a Politics and Literature course, Mr. Blake,” the professor huffs, exasperated. “The whole point of the course involves looking at how fiction helps understand and express politics.”
The guy— last name Blake, Clarke reminds herself— looks distinctly put out by that. “And I don’t have a problem with that,” he points out, folding his arms across his chest. “What I do have a problem with is how all the books on the reading list are drawn from the same historical and cultural setting.”
A quick glance at the syllabus confirms it, but —
“Actually,” she pipes up, tapping at the sheet before her, “The White Tiger is set in India, so…”
He turns the full-force of his glare on her, then, brow arched. “It’s one novel on a list of twelve,” he says, dismissive. “That’s hardly enough.”
I agree, she doesn’t get to say, before he’s sweeping his gaze over her — disdain clear as he takes in the MacBook perched on her lap, to the watch strapped to her wrist, and all the way down to her newly polished shoes.
“I wouldn’t expect you to understand, Princess,” he says, venomous, and she can practically feel her hackles rising in response.
Bristling, she opens her mouth, a retort already forming on her tongue, when she receives a swift kick to the ankle, startling her enough that she squeaks instead.
Scowling, she shifts her gaze over to Roan. A bodyguard had been one of the stipulated conditions to this whole arrangement, and he’d been her pick mostly because she’s gotten used to his hulking presence over the years. There’s also the added bonus factor of his notorious unflappability and calm even in the most trying of situations—which explains why he’s currently regarding her with nothing but an arched brow and a pointed widening of his eyes; a wordless reminder of the need to be inconspicuous. Or at least subtle enough to not bring attention to herself (and by extension, her status) on the first day of school.
Slumping over in her seat, she relents, hiding her glower behind a curtain of hair.
It doesn’t seem to placate Blake all that much, if the irritated half-snort he gives is any indication. Still, he skulks back to his seat, plopping down in the chair directly behind hers.
The first half an hour of class passes by without issue, and she finds herself relaxing halfway through, against her better judgment, focusing on the lecture itself and jotting down notes during the lulls. Her gaze drifts on over to Blake, from time to time, but only because he’s one of the few seated within her vicinity. His handwriting is a angry scrawl, and she thinks she catches a glimpse of a B in his first name as well. When he’s not scribbling out notes or shooting everyone else dirty looks, he’s chewing on the cap of his pen, fingers tapping out a distracting rhythm on the tabletop.
He catches her gaze soon after, and she flushes at the realization that he caught her staring.
“What?” she challenges, before he can get a word out. “You have something to say to me?”
“Not really,” he smirks, his gaze roving over her once more, lingering at the ID badge she has slung over her neck. “So. You’re a freshman.”
It’s a statement rather than a question, but she nods anyway.
“Wow,” he drawls. There’s a kind of smugness to it that suggests that he’s gotten exactly what he wanted from her affirmation alone, and it makes her want to do questionable things, like stomp on his foot. “That’s pretty impressive, considering how this course has a required class standing that I’m sure a freshman like yourself has yet to fulfill.”
It’s difficult to keep her surprise from showing at that, and she has to bite at her lip to keep from gaping. Shit. It’s certainly not unexpected, though, considering her mother’s influence, and Clarke had only skimmed through the course catalogue before picking out the courses that appealed to her most. Taking a deep breath, she shoots him a tight smile, praying that it comes off convincing. “Well, I guess I had enough transferral credits.”
“You’re a transfer?” he scoffs, narrowing his eyes over at her. “Where from?”
She blinks, her gaze landing on Roan for a split-second. “Mecha,” she says smoothly, the lie coming easy. “But I was looking for a change in scenery, so.”
“You transferred from Mecha,” he says, dubious, “to Ark U?”
“That’s right,” she says, jutting her chin out defiantly. “Like I said, I needed a change.”
He mulls over that, his expression contemplative. Then, with a half-hearted shrug of his shoulders, he says, “You know, you could have just admitted that you’re a trust fund kid and I would have let it go, right?”
This time, she can’t quite hold back on her offended gasp. “What?”
“Wait, I think I got it,” he continues, his voice taking on a mocking edge. “You have a parent on the college admissions board.”
“So, they made a sizable donation to the school and I’m going to see a—” he pauses, squinting over at her ID, “—Clarke Griffin wing in a few months, right? Arts or Sciences, you think?”
“Neither,” she hisses, seething. Vaguely, she’s aware that everyone else is getting up from their seats, the rising noise level signalling that class is over. “God, I don’t even know why I’m still standing here trying to justify myself to you, when—”
The voice snags at her attention, and she turns away from him to look at the source of the intrusion. She’s pretty, Clarke thinks, with startling green eyes, a sharp jaw and hair trailing down to her back, and it doesn’t occur to her that it’s Blake she’s referring to until he says, “I’ll be there in a minute, O.”
Well. At least she finally can put a name to the face.
Can you do a Peter Parker x reader where the reader hasn’t seen Peter in a really long time and she comes to his apartment to surprise him and he’s really happy and Stuff or one after uncle Ben dies
requester? an anonie !
word count? 802
A/N: okay so if anyone wants an angsty version of this lemme know bc i have a few scenarios in my head of how i could turn this angsty. xxx
How Uncertain Are LIGO’s First Gravitational Wave Detections?
“What’s vital to understand is that no one is claiming LIGO is wrong, but rather that one team is claiming that perhaps LIGO has room for improvement in their analysis. And this is a very real danger that has plagued experimental physicists and astronomical observers for as long as those scientific fields have existed. The issue is not that LIGO’s results are in doubt, but rather that LIGO’s analysis may be imperfect.”
Three times now, the LIGO collaboration has produced very strong evidence that black hole pairs, from across the Universe, inspiraled and merged, producing gravitational waves. The twin LIGO detectors in Hanford, WA and Livingston, LA each detected these signals, and the signals were correlated between both detectors. For the first time ever (and the second, and the third), we had directly detected gravitational waves. But last month, a team of independent scientists from Denmark attempted to reproduce LIGO’s analysis, and noticed something that shouldn’t be there: noise correlations between the two detectors. Noise is supposed to be uncorrelated, and yet the noise correlations peaked at the moment of the inspiral-and-merger event. It doesn’t mean that gravitational waves aren’t real, but it does mean that LIGO, perhaps, has room for improvement.
Pairing: Mick Davies x Reader Word count: 1,494 Warnings: Smut. Dirty Talk. Semi-Public Sex. Rough-ish sex. Unprotected sex. Oral Sex (Female). Unknown exhibition sex. Request: ( Anonymous ) Can I request Mick x reader fic where you, winchesters, and Mick are on a hunt and you have to dress sexy and flirt with some bartender or so to get information on a case and it makes Mick very jealous? And when you’re all back at BMoL bunker he just bends you over his desk and fucks her really hard?
Sitting in the hospital lobby, you caught Dr. Hiddleston’s attention on his way to work. Blissfully unaware of your condition, you turned down his help in the first place. When push came to shove, the British intensivist did not leave your bedside.
Hey, it's me Vegetastan ☺. Got a new play along for ya. Trunks: Hey Mom, can I ask you something? Mom: Sure, what is it? Trunks: How did you know you were in love with Papa?
Bulma momentarily stopped spreading the
chocolate frosting over the cake she’d just baked for her husband and she
looked at her son.
“Why do you ask?” She finally said, resuming
“Well… Today is your wedding anniversary,
“And… Every year I go to Goten’s place so you
two can celebrate together…”
Bulma kept working on her cake, secretly
wondering where her child was going with this. It was unlike Trunks to ask a
lot of questions about her relationship with Vegeta, particularly about their
early rocky years.
“So, every year Goten’s mom asks me about you
two. Like… I don’t know… It’s almost like she can’t believe you guys are in
love or something…”
The hidden sorrow behind her son’s voice made
her heart sink a little, and her anger at her discovery of Chichi’s nosiness didn’t
She was one to talk
about love and romance…
Her husband only married her in order to keep
some stupid childhood promise he’d made without even knowing what marriage was
really all about. Thankfully, it’d all worked out in the end for the two of
them, but it wasn’t as if it’d been the ‘Romance
of the Century’ either, certainly, not at the beginning.
For Dende’s sake! Goku
even thought getting married had to do with food!
“Sweetie, come here. Sit down…” Bulma said
softly, encouraging the boy to sit by her side. She guessed it was as good a
time as any to discuss certain things with Trunks.
She quickly finished her work and she set the
finished cake aside, peeking at the large bowl on the table, which still had
some melted chocolate left in it.
“Wanna dip?” Bulma offered, playfully wiggling
Trunks replied enthusiastically, without
Bulma chuckled, shaking her head as she walked
to Capsule Corp.’s massive fridge to fetch some fresh strawberries. Living with
a couple of Saiyans wasn’t always easy, but at least it wasn’t hard to figure
out how to cheer them up: with lots of delicious food.
She set the strawberries on the table, quietly offering
them to Trunks, who eagerly grabbed a juicy berry and happily dipped it into
the chocolate as Bulma imitated his actions.
“So… Love, uh?”
“Okay… Well…” Bulma started, taking another
bite. “I’d say it wasn’t something that happened overnight, you know?”
The little boy scowled. “So, it wasn’t like in
“In the movies?”
“Yeah…” Trunks shrugged. “Like, when the girl
meets the guy and she knows she’s gonna marry him and stuff…”
The woman smiled knowingly. “You mean ‘love at first sight’, right?”
“Mmm… No, Trunks. From my experience, love
doesn’t really work that way.”
“It doesn’t?” Trunks asked, honestly surprised.
Bulma finished her strawberry, picking up
another one and losing count of how many her son had already eaten.
“Nope. I think you have to get to know a person
before you love them. I don’t believe you can really love someone you don’t know
There was a brief pause, and Trunks realized
his mom was now deep in thought.
“I guess I knew I was in love with your dad
sometime before I found out I was pregnant with you…” She finally concluded.
“Really?” The child enquired, raising his
eyebrows. “So, you didn’t like him at first?”
“Oh, no! That’s not what I meant! If I hadn’t
liked him I would have never invited him to live here! No… I guess… I guess
what I mean is… You know your dad is a quiet man, right?”
“Uh-huh…” He agreed.
“So, that’s why it took longer for me to get to
know him, I guess…”
Trunks swallowed a mouthful of berries before
“And why is that?”
“Why is what?”
“You know… Why is dad so quiet? Is it because
Bulma tilted her head to the side a little,
knowing she had to be careful with how much information about Vegeta’s past she
disclosed to her son. When Trunks was a baby and Vegeta finally agreed to stay
on Earth and give their relationship and fatherhood a chance, she knew, even
though her man had been too proud to discuss such things, that Vegeta was
probably afraid of his son ending up hating him in the future, so she told him
he’d only talk about his past with Trunks when the child was older and only if
he felt comfortable discussing certain matters with him.
Interestingly enough, Bulma had never been
truly scared of Trunks hating Vegeta when he’d finally discover his past. After
all, if Mirai Trunks had ended up loving and respecting him so much without
having spent a lot of time with him, she knew their Trunks, the one who’d
actually been raised by a dad he fiercely admired, would undoubtedly forgive
his father’s evil deeds when he was older.
“I think so, Trunks… I think a big part of it has
to do with him being Saiyan. And, also… Well, your dad didn’t have a lot of
friends growing up, so I guess it was hard for him at first to open up to
“Papa had no friends?”
One look at Trunks’ sad frown told Bulma she’d
just perhaps said too much…
“Hey! Come here!” Bulma asked invitingly,
offering him a hug with open arms her son accepted greedily. She hugged him
tightly and kissed his forehead, realizing that, even though Trunks wasn’t a
small child anymore, he’d always be her little boy to her.
“Your dad grew up in Space, and it’s harder to
make friends out there, that’s all…” She lied, after all, there’d be enough
time for her son to discover how dark the Universe could be sometimes. Until
then, she’d protect his innocence as much as she could, not that the child hadn’t
already gone through hard times during the battle against Buu.
“But then he came to Earth and we all welcomed
him. And now he has lots of friends, right?”
Trunks smirked, so much like his father the resemblance
“He does…” He agreed.
Bulma held him closer, whispering in his ear. “And
we all love him very much, don’t we?”
The boy blushed, embarrassed about disclosing
his feelings towards his father in front of his mom.
He was Vegeta’s child,
“Moooom…” He whined as Bulma playfully ruffled
“We do love him! Now, be a good boy and bring
your dad his cake, he’s been in the GR for too long and he needs to take a
Trunks cautiously held the massive chocolate
cake his mom had baked for his dad, knowing just how much it must have meant
for her since Bulma almost never cooked, always relying on their own private
chefs to deal with all the cooking.
“Be careful, baby…” Bulma warned him tenderly.
“Mom?” Trunks asked again, already on his way
out of the kitchen.
“Then when did you finally know you were in love
“Oh, right… Um… I guess I knew when I finally realized
I’d be really sad if I ever had to live without him; that was also before I got
pregnant with you,” she honestly replied.
It was the truth.
Despite the fact that it was their mutual
physical attraction towards each other what started their sexual affair so many
years ago, at some point around the time she discovered she was pregnant with
Trunks, she finally had the courage to admit to herself she’d really fallen in
love with the proud Saiyan Prince and, even though Vegeta was still in deep
denial about their new, still very fragile relationship, she knew he’d already
grown fond of her on some level even then.
All in all, Bulma liked to believe there’d been
some kind of love involved during Trunks’ conception, and she unquestionably
wanted her child to firmly believe that too.
“I see… Thanks Mom!”
“No problem, sweetie… Careful with that cake!
And don’t drop the fork!” She cautioned as she saw the boy walking out into the
garden in search of his father.
Once he reached his destination, Trunks knocked
twice on the heavy gate of his dad’s beloved Gravity Room. Almost instantly,
the buzzing noise ceased, signaling Vegeta had switched it off, and a very
sweaty Saiyan opened the metal door.
“What is it, boy?” He asked, wiping off some of
the sweat from his brow with a white towel and taking a large gulp of ice cold
water with his other hand.
“Um, Mom asked to bring you this, she made it
One look at the sweet delicacy told Vegeta all
he needed to know about what day it was.
“I see…” He replied, sitting on the stairs by
the door and grabbing the cake, putting it carefully on his lap and picking up
the fork his woman had also placed on the large plate. When he raised his gaze,
he noticed Trunks still standing right in front of him, staring at him with
“Is there anything else you need, boy?”
“Uh? Um, no, that was all… I hope you like it,
Vegeta assented in confirmation and just as his
son was about to leave, he saw him turn around, asking him one final question.
“You have a lot of friends now, right?”
The Prince stopped chewing on his mouthful of
cake for a moment, wondering what the Hell was the kid talking about now.
Whatever it was, the expression on his face told him it was a serious question,
so he pondered his words for a minute.
What a word…
He knew just how fond those damned earthlings
were of their friendships and all of those strange, sentimental attachments and,
yet, hadn’t he ended up becoming one of them anyway?
The closest thing to a ‘friend’ he’d had before he landed on Earth were Nappa and Raditz,
and they were more like comrades to him, subjects of the Royal Crown, and if he
was honest with himself, they basically stuck together because they were the
only ones from their kind left.
Then, did he have any
If the definition of a friend was someone who
fought by your side and that you could rely on when things got ugly, then, much
to his shame, he had to admit all these bizarre, ridiculous people had become
his friends, so he assented.
“I do, boy. Now, why don’t you go to the
kitchen and help your mother clean up?”
Trunks offered him the brightest smile, and he
looked so relieved by his answer that now Vegeta knew he’d definitely have to
ask Bulma what that whole friend questioning thing was all about later. He had
the feeling she’d had a hand on it.
“Sure!” He yelled, running to the kitchen. “Have
fun with Mom tonight!”
Vegeta drank some more water, paying close
attention to the scene taking place now in their kitchen through its large
glass windows. Trunks was, indeed, helping Bulma place all the dirty dishes in
the dishwasher as she sat down, distractedly rubbing her belly. He noticed his
wife had been doing that a lot ever since she’d found out she was pregnant
again, and even though she wasn’t showing yet, she kept caressing her still
flat tummy at all times. It was a miracle no one had noted her strange behavior
yet. Bulma had insisted they kept it a secret for as long as they could,
concerned about something potentially going wrong during the early stages. She
was older now than she was when she conceived Trunks and he’d had a hard time
convincing her about having another child.
He smirked, pleased to see his son was growing
up to be a responsible young man, obeying him without question, though he knew
Bulma had played a big role on Trunks becoming the kind-hearted kid he was.
Without his mother’s presence around him, the child would have probably become
the grumpy, miserable man he himself had been before the woman came into his
life, smashing his barriers down and making him see and explore life in a way
he never thought possible.
The warrior savored another bite of the
delicious cake, secretly trying to imagine what kind of a surprise his mischievous
little minx would have prepared for him tonight, and he wiped off his brow
again with the back of his hand, looking at the summer’s bright blue sky and wondering
how was it possible that someone like him ended up getting so damn lucky.