Lapis & Pearl => MOONSTONE as it promotes inspiration, brings good fortune and protects on land and at sea (overprotective, paranoid and emotional, talanted in arts, sings a lot; has an ability to manipulate water and air; unstable fusion, but can easily keep it together when somebody is in trouble).
Horoscopes by Gil Hizon - Week of February 5 - 11, 2017
Street parking is not a game.
AQUARIUS (January 20 – February 18)
Relying on other bitches to execute something you can do yourself may backfire on yo ass. But then you ask, “what the fuck is the point of delegation?” Look, queen. Delegating is a tricky task. You have to know for sure that certain hos will be effective extensions of you rather than useless queens who sit on their asses. Your gut instinct was made for a reason. You’re gonna have to learn to trust that shit. =====
PISCES (February 19 – March 20)
When you decide to rearrange the broom closet, it may lead you to going all out on an early spring cleaning extravaganza. Gurl, if it feels right to clear the cobwebs in your house, and the timing is on fleek – go with it! I wouldn’t limit the cleanse in the material plane, dearie. I’m sure your soul could use a little vacuuming as well. Some parts may be dustyyy. =====
ARIES (March 21 – April 19)
All I can do is stand at a distance and laugh at your ass as you try to make sense of all the information coming your way. You really get so fucking angry when you’re overwhelmed – it may take time for your constituents to help you out because they’re so busy being amused by it all. But no worries. Once your hos are fully entertained, they will chip in to get you out of that mess. =====
TAURUS (April 20 – May 20)
Tax season is here, dahling, and you, especially, have a lot of fucking receipts to go through. You don’t wanna put that shit off either, unless you wanna get caught on tax day with your pants down, and not in a good way. It’s never too early to get on computational mode. I guarantee you; if you put in the work, you’ll get rewarded handsomely. Just have a martini while you’re calculating. =====
GEMINI (May 21 – June 21)
Watching you try to make sense of things by yourself is one thing. But watching you engage with another GEMINI is giving me some serious life right now. From where I’m standing, the communication looks like a fight scene from Real Housewives of Atlanta, but at the heart of it all, you and your zodiac kin really get each other’s shit. =====
CANCER (June 22 – July 22)
Don’t expect your “me” time to be the usual moping under the covers. You are gonna be bombarded with a lot of hos wanting to spend time with yo ass that solitary time is just not going to happen. There is a way to be alone while being with noisy ass bitches. If you just sit with them and try not to resist their din, their words will flow right through you. Because let’s face it, these hos just need a sounding board. And this week, you’re it. =====
LEO (July 23 – August 22)
If I were you, I would just throw out this week’s calendar. Anything you have scheduled will probably get postponed or canceled (or if you’re in L.A., both?). It’s not that you’re dealing with flakey ass tricky bitches. It’s more like there’s this unstable energy in the air that’s causing a ripple effect of scheduling clusterfucks. Don’t sweat it too much. Use this as an opportunity to take a serious meeting with yourself. =====
VIRGO (August 23 – September 22)
A chapter in your life is finally closing and as you look ahead in the horizon, you know that you have a lot more fucking work to do. But you are a changed ho, gurl. The new challenges that are about to befall yo ass may be harder, but your drive, your skin, and your resolve is that much tougher. You are scratching that seemingly impenetrable surface with more strategy and precision. Honestly, bitch, just between you and me (and my 5000+ followers - thanks for your support!), you may be closer to your goal than you think. =====
LIBRA (September 23 – October 22)
Don’t even bother with what the universe is trying to tell you, Libby. It’s not that she’s an untrustworthy ho, it’s more like, she may not be firing on all cylinders this week. The last few noteworthy events in the cosmos may have short circuited her brain, and really, it’s out of her control. If I were you, I would just keep on keeping on until your environment is a bit more stable. =====
SCORPIO (October 23 – November 21)
Divas be verrry talky this week, queen, and you may think that you just don’t have the time, the patience, nor the ear for all that noise - but that’s not the truth. The thing is, engaging others with their need for discussion, no matter how annoying the subject, may serve to enrich your soul. At the very least, give each ho five minutes. If you’re not growing from what you’re hearing, move on to the next bitch. =====
SAGITTARIUS (November 22 – December 21)
Everyone’s a fucking mess, and honestly, you’re okay with that shit. Blame it on your jovial nature or the child in you, but really, sometimes, all you can do when bitches are so focused on their petty misfortunes is to stand back and laugh at it all. It’s all good, gurl! Just make sure that you are on deck to help these busted hos when they most need it. =====
CAPRICORN (December 22 – January 19)
It don’t matter how organized you are; some weeks, like this one, are gonna be more of a shitshow than others. What’s a gurl to do? While you can definitely try to fix any imperfections you may see as fast as you can, this may prove to be a fucking waste of time. If you loosen your grip on every detail you encounter, the ripple effect of relaxation may just reverberate throughout your immediate world, and certain clusterfucks would ease up. =====
(DISCLAIMER for all entries: This is all a shitshow!)
For more Horoscopes By Gil Hizon, click here, gurl!
Sometimes, Dazai actually wished he had a leash attached to Chuuya’s collar if only to stop his former partner from being so damn impulsive.
It was true that Chuuya followed orders and remained loyal to a fault. But he also got impatient, could be hot-headed, and in this particular situation, would dart after their target before Dazai had a full-fledged plan worked out.
Not only that, but Chuuya didn’t see what Dazai could from his vantage point. The Ability user, one of Fyodor’s rats, could create unstable pockets of air that, if disturbed would explode. He did this by throwing pebbles, presumably as a focus-point.
Dazai saw one of these pebbles fly through the air, land in Chuuya’s path, and glow orange. Dazai rushed forward, shouting, “DON’T MOVE!”
Chuuya jerked to a stop, his foot grinding the stone into the ground.
“Don’t move,” Dazai repeated breathlessly as he caught up. The unstable area was small, but Dazai kept a few feet away from Chuuya just in case. “At all.”
“What?” Chuuya ground his teeth. “Dazai, we need to follow him! He’s probably already gone by now!”
That was troublesome, considering that in order to fix this situation Dazai needed to nullify the man’s Ability. But there was always another way. He considered the possible factors. Touching Chuuya would trigger an explosion and prevent Chuuya from protecting himself. He couldn’t reach the pebble without Chuuya moving, and even so, touching it might not nullify the Ability.
“Chuuya,” Dazai said. “Listen. That guy activated his Ability on the area around you. If you move, you’ll set off a reaction that will cause an explosion.”
“Great,” Chuuya muttered. “Just what I need. Any more good news?”
“I can’t deactivate it like this,” Dazai told him with a smile. “Even worse, you’re standing on the focal point of the explosion, so you’ll probably die!”
Chuuya growled, his body twitching with the effort to keep still.
“I should just leave,” Dazai continued. “Not like I need you around anyway.” Chuuya’s glare could have cut a hole through a steel wall. “But I guess I’ll keep you around, otherwise we might have unnecessary problems with the Port Mafia. I have an idea.”
“Quit wasting time and tell me,” Chuuya snapped.
“You know how you can stop bullets with your Ability,” Dazai said. “I need you to apply the same principal here. Well, it might be harder since you don’t really have a direction to focus on. But maybe alter the gravity of the air around your body to protect yourself? I don’t think you can alter the direction of the explosion without it having already exploded, and I don’t know how powerful it will be, so maybe this won’t work-”
“You’re telling me to trigger the explosion and hope that some untried part of my Ability will save me?” Chuuya stared at him.
Dazai shrugged. “Or you’ll die. But you know, you might just pull it off.”
“Why didn’t you keep running after him?” Chuuya cried. “His Ability wouldn’t have worked on you!”
Dazai shrugged again, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets and taking a dramatic step backwards.
“If I die,” Chuuya growled, “I’ll drag you to hell myself.”
“A double suicide!” Dazai beamed. “How nice of you!”
Chuuya closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then, he shifted his weight.
The air ignited, the force of it pushing Dazai backwards and blinding him. He threw an arm up to shield his eyes.
When the air stilled, Dazai lowered his arm. A sizable crater marred the field, but he only caught a glimpse of it before Chuuya’s fist collided with his face.
He staggered back, rubbing his jaw. Chuuya’s clothes were charred and still smoking, but he was alive. Livid, but alive.
“Next time do your goddamn job,” Chuuya hissed. He turned and stalked off back towards their car.
Dazai glanced at the crater, let out a low whistle, and headed in Chuuya’s direction. Chuuya still looked furious, his hands balled into fists.
Dazai was glad that he’d stayed, if only to see Chuuya survive an explosion like that.
8,39,40.... feels super homey.... maybe w Connor or Zoe?
[AU where everyone was already friends before Connor’s death] ’Moonlight reflected in your eyes, balcony overlooking the sky +
Dancing under the stars, myself watching with your reflection sparkling in my eyes +
At the happiest you had ever been’ from this prompt list (this is very zoe-centric and not that much interaction with her and the reader going on here)
((a/n: i changed this slightly ok? i’m aware this is probably not want you wanted or what you were expecting and this is the worst thing i’ve ever written, the plot is upside down and it doesn’t really make sense and i just don’t like it. But i haven’t uploaded in a while and i figured i at least owe you guys some sort of content! i’m sorry))
The world is loud today. Everything is noisy and hectic and none of the Murphy’s have had a moment to themselves — too engrossed in organising everything and preparing to see all their distant family members again.
It’s Connor’s funeral. It’s the ’celebration of his life’ party; held at some hotel half an hours drive from home. Despite the sadness of the whole ordeal, it seems like a good thing right now because Connor’s death has managed to bring so many people together.
Cousins, Aunts and Uncles that Zoe didn’t even know she had have shown up and hugged the life out of her, sharing their condolences and apologies for her loss. She hates that that’s the only thing that people say. A quick ’I’m so sorry’. Nothing more. Nothing less.
Request: Could you possibly write an
imagine where spencer is in love with the reader but she is oblivious. And on
an off rainy day spencer feels depressed so he goes to her and confesses his
feelings, a little smut maybe? Either way thanks love
I did my best hope you like it, sorry it took so long
“Listen… You’re his best friend… and I completely fucked up– it’s over between us, but… please, punch me, or punish me, or do something to me because he just… cried. Hewasn’t even angry, they were just so sad– be angry at me, please.” Warren +Alex
A/N: I suffered so hard writing this jfc my poor heart. @kurtwxgners if I have to be suffering over our boyfriends, then so do you. I also don’t use the prompt totally verbatim, but oh well close enough
know you’re angry at me, and you have every right to be. I just want to know if
you’ve checked in on Warren. I’m worried about him. Can you just let me know?”
please. He doesn’t want to see me. Please just tell me if he’s done something
up the phone, Alex. Please. I just need to know if he’s okay. Call me back.
know you don’t want to talk to me. I don’t want to talk to me. But I’m so
sorry, and I’m so, so worried. About Warren, about you. Please talk to me.”
You have reached
the voicemail of Alex Summers. Please call back at another time, or leave a
message after the tone
“Go away.” You barely manage to wedge
yourself against the door before it shuts in your face, leaning your weight
against it and forcing it open a few inches.
“I know you don’t want to
see me. I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t want to see me. This is all my fault, but
Warren doesn’t want to see me right now, and I don’t want to make things worse
by showing up anyway and I’m so worried about-”
“He doesn’t want to see me either.” Alex’s
voice is flat and brusque, cutting bluntly across your borderline hysterical
“Have you tried?” Your hands are shaking
slightly, and you shove them deep into your pockets, hoping that maybe if you
ignore the fear rising like bile at the back of your throat, it’ll go away.
“No. But I fucked his girlfriend, knowing
full well that you were with him. I’m pretty goddamn sure he doesn’t want to see me.” You can’t tear your gaze
from Alex’s face, and the self-hatred scrawled so blatantly across his features
hits you like a physical force. Your guilt is almost overwhelming, and you
wonder if this is what drowning feels like.
you choke out, voice small and desperate. “You’re his best friend. I completely
fucked up, and it’s-it’s over between Warren and I, but please. Check on him.
Help him. Something. I don’t know.
Punch me, or punish me, or whatever you have to do, but don’t take it out on
him, because he wasn’t even angry at me over it, he was just-he just cried. He was-is-so, so sad. So be angry
at me. Whatever you need to do-take it out on me.” Your hands are balled into
fists where you’ve hidden them in your pockets, but your entire body feels
unstable, and the air is rife with immense volatility. “Please just talk to
him.” Alex’s gaze is heavy and inscrutable, clenching his jaw.
“You have no right-” His voice is tight
with barely controlled rage and anguish but you can’t think about that, can’t
stop to re visit the destruction wrought by your terrible decision.
“You think I don’t know that?” You
interrupt him, reckless with shame. “I love
him. I’m so in love with him, and I fucked up, and he’s hurting because of me.
You think I don’t know that if he goes off the rails, it’ll be my fault.”
“So why’d you do it, then? Why’d you fuck
me if you love him so much?” Alex spits back, derision and pain so clearly
written in his tone you can practically see the venom in the air.
“Because maybe I love you too.” The words
are out before you have a chance to so much as think about them, and the second
the last word leaves your lips your hand is flying up to cover your mouth, and
Alex actually jolts, as if you had just punched him. “Shit,” you whisper,
muffled by your fingers, eyes wide with shock. “Shit, shit, shit. God, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I
won’t call again. I’m so sorry.” You leave him standing in his open doorway,
looking after you as you hurry away from his apartment, dashing silent tears
from your face and wondering when you had become so toxic for these two boys you
love so much.
If you were living under a dome - say on a space colony or an earth-based sci-fi series - would you be ok with people dumping waste, releasing green-house gases (and remember, the dome is basically a greenhouse itself!), leaving huge piles of garbage around, etc etc?
Not a chance. Because you know that you’re in the dome with them and it’s gonna harm you too, even if you don’t see it right away. Living in the dome, you gotta live a sustainable lifestyle.
And yet, Earth is essentially the same thing.
If people dump toxic waste in the water, fill the air with greenhouse gases and other poisonous garbage like mercury, dump unprecedented amounts of garbage (that doesn’t even decompose!), Frack the ground which leads to poisoned water and air and unstable ground, that affects everyone in the dome.
And yeah, it’s a big dome. An Earth-sized dome. But it’s also filled with an Earth-sized amount of people, and right now it’s getting more pollution in it than an Earth-sized system can handle. It doesn’t matter where in the dome you dump this crap, eventually it jeopardizes everyone in the dome.
P.s. Bernie is the only one who is giving environmental issues the amount of concern and attention they deserve.
30 thousand feet of unstable air now separates the earth and me. This pillbox fuselage hurdling east does so on a tailwind of lost time. I, the reluctant yet complicit junkie of a new media culture now scramble for a signal in this once protected space. Coming up empty, I find myself alone with a screen, a keyboard and an opportunity. Moments before this flight departed, the renegade vessel I assembled to reconnect my creative wires to the masses loaded the catapult with new music once again. This drill has become something of a weekly terror for me. Under the cover of darkness I clawed my way through a mission; New sounds, new words, new truth all strung together by the tenuous threads of collaboration to reconstitute a new version of me. With each passing week I come closer to that mission’s unveiling and with each week I find another piece of my clothing stripped away. Does any of it really matter? In the grand scheme of things…No. So why? Why do it? Why do anything? I suppose, because I must. I’m hungry; hungry for the alchemy, hungry for the praise. Hungry for the feeling that I am not alone with these thoughts. Hungry to be a human in a universe that recognizes myself in my neighbors. I made a choice a lifetime ago; a choice to broadcast. To take everything I could confess in a quiet room, mold it with melodies and simple structures and turn it over to anyone who would listen. What a wild notion. Still, as with any object, form, thought, or idea this universe can conjure, what I do falls into two categories. It is at one moment a miracle and in another completely irrelevant and fleeting.
Yesterday I walked my sleepless, 7 month old daughter to the beach in a contraption that makes it possible for me to do so without the use of my arms. A device that effectively binds us together as a single mass in hopes that she might forget she is a lump of rapidly dividing cells in a world too expansive for either of us to comprehend. In doing so, she is able to synch to the rhythm of my gait and the rhythm of my hopeful calm. If the timing is right, she falls asleep and I become the ears and eyes for both of us. By the time we reached the bluffs she had given in. I was free to scan the beach below and the seas beyond, where young men, far braver than I, used the turning ocean tides as a playground for unthinkable feats. Despite this masterful display I was taken by the sight of two women occupying a blanket to the right of a lifeguard tower. Perhaps it was their shapes that drew me in but it was the motion of those shapes that caused me to linger. As my daughter dreamed, her nose and mouth pressed firmly against my chest, heaving humid breaths passed my shirt to my skin, I was reminded of the world she will grow up in. As the shapes below obsessively posed and reposed themselves before their own extended arms, hoping to construct the perfect image of their already perfect selves, I became aware of a game I have played for years. I too, have attempted to project an image of myself to the world, worthy of my own self image. The beauty of this game is that much like the culture I now count myself a part of, my construction is only evidence of my insecurity. The tailored images we edit, magnify and broadcast only prove our imperfection; Our weakness before the gods, our failings and successes in the face of a nature far greater than all of us combined. As I zeroed in on the sands below I paused. In one breath I was horrified for my little girl to grow up in this and in the next I was heartened that she would be gifted with such an opportunity. The next breath reminded me that as everything changes, everything remains exactly as it was. This is the reality I meet head on as I slingshot these songs and my kin into a new world.
The images fade and I take a sip of my cocktail. The simple, potent concoction reaches my lips and thinning blood as the flight attendant leans in to remind me, the wifi is now up and running.
“That…was definitely Hetty,” Deeks cringes slightly as the screen goes dark and their seemingly-omnipresent boss disappears.
Despite having just been busted breaking Kensi’s rule, he takes advantage of the fact that she hasn’t pulled away yet and presses a soft kiss to her forehead. When she sighs and drops her head to his chest, he knows that she is much more shaken up than she’s letting on.
He hates that they’re still at work because all he wants to do is wrap his arms around her, breathe in the subtle scent of her shampoo, feel her heart beating against his chest, and reassure himself that she’s okay.
In every person’s life, there comes a time when they will lose hope. It does not matter if it is for a second, an hour, or a thousand years; for that moment, that instant, there will be no other option but pure and unimaginable despair.
For most, these periods are short. They are remembered in passing, fading into the background of the mind like mist evaporating in the morning sun. For some, however, the opposite is very much the truth. The darkness comes, as it always has, to take the light away - and it does not rise again.