chocolate malt milkshake

venus placements: where u go wrong in your love life (poem)

aries: you are bloodlust and explosive stardust, your need for raw emotion and high energy is more important to you than your need for genuine security and cozy duvet blanketed love that tucks you in every night.. you’re looking for fire when you only need heat

taurus: you are grandeur bogoise decadence in the form of a lavish meal at a five star restaurant, where you wear your finest jewels and gown, sit pretty and appear only mildly amused as your truest inner princess rightfully deserves to be pampered, it is typically you doing the pampering, quit kneeling to the feet of your lover and make them bow to you for a change

gemini: you are a hot miami summer’s night car chase, in the fastest sleekest brightest Lamborghini.. your lover is able to outsmart you only by a fifth of a millisecond, as they use the back alleyway to beat you at your own route, pulling up in tesla model you’ve yet to see – you are so enthralled by the chase you are blind to what is under the hood

cancer: you are disneyland fireworks, chocolate malt milkshakes in glass mason jars and pretty umbrella fixtures that peak out in an aesthetic that gives you hope for your future, you crave a love that nurtures and humbles you, you need so badly to feel wanted and find a love as authentic as the fairy tale you reread every night before bed, but you’ve never heard of grimm’s fairy tales and that’s a trouble in itself 

leo: you want “you are the only person in this world i could ever imagine a life with, i want nothing but you, i need nothing but you” but you are willing to accept complete unadulterated adoration from anyone willing to drown you in it, even if your intuition usually screams that this line has been said before, it’s okay as long as you feel appreciated, but maybe you see appreciation in the form of danger and gifts, and there’s no love in that. 

virgo: you are so in love with the idea of what you want and who you are that you don’t see what is actually happening in front of you, you play jester to your peers and yourself - more focused on the intellectual integrity of a person versus the morality and there is fault to that

libra: you give and you give and you give until there is nothing left for them to take from you and that is usually when you convince yourself that it is only fair you pour yourself into a cracked jar until all of your substance has leaked onto the counter, because there was something you saw in that person nobody else did, and you were promised they weren’t going to let you pour out but

scorpio: you are at war with your need to love so fiercely it could destroy you, and your need to guard yourself from the pain that your past lovers subjected you to and you carry all of them around like ghosts that won’t let you fully sleep at night, but this new person is better and more promising but every time they go to kiss you, you flinch because the only physical contact you’ve told yourself is possible is a fist 

sagittarius: you are a train ride that lulls you into melancholy as the whirring and smoke engine relax you, taking you into unchartered territory, different shades of trees show through your window and you’re so fixed on the getting there, you never actually stop to exit the train, eventually try to get off and explore your new destination, versus anticipating your next.

capricorn: you need routine kisses on the cheek after breakfast, and mandatory phone call check ins in the afternoon, you need monetary insurance in the form of a ring that sits nice and pretty on your finger reminding you of how this is what you need and what you want – but you’re so skeptical if any of these things becomes irregular or unreliable you lose sight of what you love about a person if they can’t nullify the ocean of your insecurities, you must learn to trust in order to love.. you cannot let people into your bed, and mistake that for your heart.

aquarius: you need substance and raw agave sweet purity of a person’s soul, you are searching for an innocence you no longer can see in yourself, but you’re jaded and you wish on stars for people that will never love you instead of people that actually could

pisces: you need soft kisses and plush pillows and for someone to take you into the forest and host a picnic for two, where you can discuss your eclectic taste in indie records nobody else has discovered but the two of you, and you are so levelheaded and calm that you forget your anger is unforgiving and if they wrong you just once you cut their head off and leave them their on the checkered blanket in the woven straw basket, maybe try to be more patient

anonymous asked:

Are Jamie and claire going to get a car in the boston story? Car junkie here, kind of dying to know what kind??

Anon from Mod Bonnie’s personal blog: is jamie going to get his driver license soon?

Flood my Mornings: Liberty and License 

Notes from Mod Bonnie:

  • This story takes place in an AU in which Jamie travels through the stones two years after Culloden and finds Claire and his child in 1950 Boston.
  • Previous installment: Some Sunday Morning (A crime close to home prompts a serious butting-of-heads between the Frasers)


September, 1950

“Oh, yes, I’m sure Cinderella is a darling film,” I said into the receiver, curling my finger absently around the cord, feeling the breeze tickling the backs of my knees, “but I’d really prefer not to have Bree go to the movies until she’s a bit older…. Glad you understand, thank you, Penelope, dear….and thank you for answering my call….No, no word yet, still waiting…. Hope to hear very shortly!….I’ll phone again as soon as we know…Yes, goodbye, dear.”

I hung up and and walked back to my shady bench from the pay phone, checking my wristwatch for what felt like the thousandth time that morning. Jamie and I had both taken off work for today’s mission, but at this rate—three bloody hours after we’ve arrived at the godforsaken DMV—I apparently needn’t have bothered.

“Come on, Jamie,” I murmured under my breath in the direction of the glass doors across the green, “give him what for.”

He’d failed the first time, two weeks ago. A travesty, too, for thanks to his quick memory and ease with academic learning, he’d gotten a perfect score on the written portion—a first for this district, the glowing proctor had said. His only mistake was to have the miserable poor luck to be assigned the most crotchety pedant known to mankind for the in-car examination. Jamie neglected to signal a left-hand turn once—ONCE—and the nasty gremlin had failed him on the spot. To make matters worse, the old grump had rambled on and on about it, tsking about ‘a man of Jamie’s age ought to know better,’ ‘Such carelessness!’ ‘A danger to himself and others!’ and perhaps most gallingly, ‘Dratted foreigners coming in and roaming about as they please, bringing in their Commie ideas!’ et cetera.     

“It’s alright, Sassenach, I’ll ken next time to be more fastidious wi’ the signals. It’s *no’ matter,* a nighean,” he’d said firmly, trying to calm down my ragings against the examiner, his relatives, and any animals unfortunate enough to be his pets. “I’ll almost certainly be assigned a different examiner next time, dinna fash.” 

But given the many hours he’d put into studying traffic laws and practicing on the road with Hank, the failure definitely rankled him, and I knew it. 

None daunted, we’d tried again today. Jamie had come out after his written exam and seemed confident in his performance, laughing easily with me as we shared a coffee and a Mallo Cup (his favorite modern treat to date), apparently ready to take on the world. Then, Lo and Be-bloody-hold, out had rung an oily, “James Fraser?”: the Gremlin, clipboard in hand, grinning with the macabre glee of an executioner. Jamie had swallowed his mouthful, kissed my cheek, and stridden forward to meet his foe with dark determination, Penelope’s keys clinking in his hand.

After the first hour of (im)patiently waiting, I’d gone outside to get away from the general stink of the Department of Motor Vehicles. My bookmark lay scarcely twenty pages into 1984, and I couldn’t have told a bloody thing about those twenty if my life depended on it. 

Another half-hour later, my nerves worn to shreds, I looked up at the opening double-doors for the millionth time to—at last!—see Jamie emerging, buttoning his suit jacket as he walked toward me. He saw me, I could tell, but he wasn’t meeting my eye, staying hidden under his hat, hands uncharacteristically shoved in his pockets.

Bollocks,” I hissed under my breath, rising from the bench under the tree, “Goddamn frigging bollocks….THAT EXECRABLE WRETCH!” I preemptively shouted as he walked up, head still bowed, reaching for my hand and kissing it soberly. 

Sassenach, hush, ye—”

“You wait right here, I’m going to give that little xenophobic vermin a piece of my–”

Sassenach,” Jamie said, voice steady and light, “will ye stop blethering and look down?”  

I spluttered for a moment, but did look down… to see a crisp Massachusetts driver’s license in my hand.

I swatted him with it. “So it’s YOU that’s the execrable wretch!” I scolded, laughing, in thoroughly relieved pique. Abandoning decorum, I jumped up and flung both arms around his neck, kissing his cheek exuberantly “Jamie, you DID pass—Congratulations, you utter ARSE!”

“Aye,” he laughed.“The sour wee mannie tried to dock me again for my four-way stop,” Jamie recounted, kissing my neck happily, “but I recited book-chapter-and-verse from the manual and proved that I did in fact have the right of way. He was fuming all the way back about how all Europeans are a threat to ‘Our Liberty’ but…he passed me.”

“Oh, well DONE, darling!” I cried, inspecting the license again as he set me back down.  I then stepped back to fix him with a gimlet eye. “SO…are you ready to have this out once and for all, then?”

He gave me the look right back, with interest. “Have you come to your senses since last night?”

My senses are right as rain; but I shan’t be swayed, if that’s what you mean.” 

“Shall we flip a coin for it, then?”

My coin,” I agreed, withdrawing one from my handbag and giving it to him, “you flip, I call….TAILS!” I cried as Jamie caught the coin and slapped it onto the back of his hand.

“Tis the moment of truth, Claire: give up now and walk away wi’ honor?”

“Never! Tails, you brute.”

Jamie unveiled the coin dramatically….then groaned.

“Ha-HAAA!” I crowed, “the ‘49, light-blue, four-door sedan it is!!! So there!”

“But the station wagon is so much more practicalSassenach!” he insisted for the dozenth time.

“We’ve made do without a car entirely to this point—I think we’ll manage. And before you ask, yes I’m dead-set on the blue. We’ve got quite enough red in our family as it is, thank you very much.”

He gave a dramatic sigh, but the corner of his mouth was twitching. “Fine, fair’s fair. But—” he held out his elbow to me in a courtly fashion, “—only if the lady will share a milkshake wi’ me before we give Mr. Ford our custom.”

I took the arm with equal grace. “That sounds perfectly reasonable. As long as it’s a chocolate milkshake, no malt.”

He snorted. “Is there any other kind?”

“Good chap!”


[next chapter]

It Happened Like This

Characters: CastielXReader ft. Sam and Dean Winchester

Word Count: 4521

Summary: Castiel hears the haunted tale of how the reader and the Winchesters first met. Everyone involved remembers the story a little bit differently. Tiny bit of angst with heaping helpings of fluff and humor.

A/N: This fic is a mostly factual semi-autobiographical account turned reader insert of an experience I had in college with a spirit. Some details have been altered for entertainment purposes and to protect the identities of those involved. I mean, obviously Castiel is my boyfriend and I personally know Sam and Dean Winchester because they are real people, so that part is definitely true. I blame this fic on @willowing-love who took the bait first and asked for my real-life ghost story.

Forehead resting on the cold glass of the Impala’s window, you watched the landscape fly by at 90 miles an hour – an uninterrupted blur of autumn leaves and harvested fields. Not so long ago this was your favorite time of year – nothing but crisp dewy nights, pumpkin spice everything, chunky sweaters and cozy socks with nature tucking herself to bed for the season beneath a warm-hued mantle of ruddy and golden pigments.

An unruly wisp of hair broke loose at your temple in the brisk breeze from Dean’s cracked window. It tickled your eyes and you swatted at it absent-mindedly, reverie uninterrupted as you plodded farther back into the memory of a simpler time. Not so long ago the beauty of the world shone to you in unblemished innocence. Now you understood the literal lie of the land, her sinister underbelly exposed. Now your days and nights teemed with the supernatural. Fall in particular, culminating with Halloween, or Samhain, or All Hallows’ Eve, or whatever the villain of the week wanted to call it, seemed to parade out more than its fair share of monsters, and not the adorable candy seeking variety.

Sighing, your breath misted the window. You traced the outline of a jack-o’-lantern in the fog, erasing the grinning visage with another lungful of exhaled air. You never imagined this would be your life.

A calloused fingertip gently swept the errant lock of hair from your eyes, securing it behind your ear. “What are you thinking about?” Castiel asked from beside you, astutely concerned your wakeful quietude meant something weighed heavy on your mind.

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