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#the inspiration and mood kicked in at the eleventh hour
bubblegeon · 1 year
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userdramas event 01: favorite roles (so far) of my favorite actor
LEE SOO HYUK
🍁 Park Joong Gil in TOMORROW (2022) 🍁 Cha Joo Ik in DOOM AT YOUR SERVICE (2021) 🍁 Gwi in THE SCHOLAR WHO WALKS THE NIGHT (2015) 🍁 Kim Joon in VALID LOVE (2014) 🍁 Yoo Jin Woo in HIGH SCHOOL KING OF SAVVY (2014)
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Small Hands (The Eleventh Doctor x Reader)
This has been the longest I’ve written, my first Eleven(with brief Twelve, of course), and my first transition fic all in one. Keeping it short because it’s longer than usual! Hope you enjoy!!
Until next fic, - Ashley Inspiration: Small Hands - Keaton Henson Word Count: 3413
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Miss you terribly already, Miss the space between your eyelids, Where I'd stare through awkward sentences And avoid through awkward silence
 Large, tired eyes rolled to the back of her head as she woke to another exhausting day. Lethargy held her down, traveling through her very bones like a leaf on a quiet river. (Y/N) sat up, gently lifting her heavy legs from the quilt’s protection, and felt the cold floor beneath her toes. The sun was pale, peeking in to tell her it was a new day, and she felt it laughing at her inability to even look it in the eye.
Going through her routine had become difficult since the Doctor had gone. Not a word from him in quite some time left her faith dwindling, causing her to settle back into the sad, lonesome life she’d had before. She hadn’t even realized just how boring she had been until she was forced to go back to her old life. That raggedy man with the funny bow tie and the fez fixation had forsaken her to remain on earth alone. Tears had fallen freely for weeks, before devolving into moisture around the corners of her eyes, until one day she felt the pressure behind them, but nothing came.
It was if even her tear ducts were spent, fed up with her constant use like the Doctor must’ve been with her. Often, she wondered if he’d forgotten her, if she ever crossed his expansive mind. Intentionally unremembered, pushed to the back of the closet in his vast mind like baby shoes or old photo albums.
That gangly, awkward spaceman simply left her on earth to fend for herself after months and months of travel. After being too close to such a gorgeously tragic creature for too long, the sudden isolation deeply affected her. Like taking a thriving plant and shoving it roughly into a dark room. She wasn’t sure if she ever wanted to see him again, she was so angry at first. But the rage subsided, it melted into heartbreak. Then the pangs in her chest dissolved into nothing. Any trace of what once a feeling was, it was stolen from her.
 Miss your teeth when they chatter, When we smoked out in my garden When we couldn't sleep for all the heat, Soft talk began to harden.
 It was getting harder to leave her apartment. The empty husk she lived in was cold, dark, desolate. The opposite of her warm corner of the spaceship. Anytime she spoke anymore, a ghost of the powerful voice she’d once had escaped. It had been so long since (Y/N) had spoken, truly talked to someone.
Many conversations she’d once had involved the existence of all the odd creatures she’d met with him along the way. Cybermen, Daleks, those “cute little marshmallow aliens”, and more. Most nights instead of sleeping she’d be looking into those hazel eyes, watching them crinkle in laughter or glaze with seriousness, guarding something deeper. Something they both shared. Even as he attempted to dance around her and their feelings, she felt fine. Knowing he felt the same was enough.
Until he was gone.
Their last conversation hadn’t been a pleasant one. It still haunted her at night. Months of tension built up to their last meltdown, leading to the Doctor flying her home at her demand. All her odd feelings about Amy’s brashness and Rory’s ignorance had boiled to a head. The redhead’s flirtations had finally pushed her over the edge, and (Y/N) couldn’t stand feeling like she was in the way of something larger than her. With her feelings that she, in the heat of the moment, assumed were unreciprocated, it was better in her mind that she left. In a blind fury she’d stomped to her room, throwing her old clothes in and slamming the old suitcase. Dragging it along, nose high in assurance of her decision, she passed them by on her way out. One by one their faces went by, expressions more shocked than any, until she moved by the Doctor.
Confusion and unmasked pain were evident on his face, and she couldn’t find the nerve to meet his eye.
The large doors slammed shut behind her, and (Y/N) was well down the street until she heard her name being called. Already halfway through some anonymous neighbor’s backyard, rooted in a bed of begonias, she halted her plodding, waiting for her childlike companion. Of course she’d stopped. Knowing she shouldn’t have but hearing the desperation in his voice instantly glued her in place. And there he was, in front of her as suddenly as he had been the first time they’d met.
Tall and bright and looming over her, he grinned sheepishly. Long hands fidgeted before tucking into his pockets, and then he removed them as soon as he’d moved them. Suddenly they were warm and wonderful, surrounding and cradling her face as his drew near. Then he kissed her. Kissed her silly, just about, taking her breath away. Everything she’d wanted had come true in that moment. Suddenly she felt appalled, pushing him away. Once she’d fantasized about the day his mouth found hers, a physical confirmation almost, but at that time it was the last thing she wanted. What was he playing at? A pity party for wee (Y/N), who just simply couldn’t keep her feelings as inconspicuous as she thought?
“You can’t just... just do that... and expect me to not be upset anymore. You have to... I’m sorry. Find me when you mean it.”
How the Doctor resembled a kicked puppy more in that moment than in any other they’d spent together, she would never know. Every single day since then she regretted her decision. Sometimes she’d be so eager, so prepared to hear him knock on her door and whisk her away again, that every bump heard outside sent her rushing towards the door.
Disappointment filled her every time. The suitcase remained by the door, tightly packed, and she passed it frequently, knowing a good deal of what lay in it were many articles the Doctor had worn himself. How she missed seeing him bundled in her own oversized jumpers, sleeves rolled up as he tinkered away with any and everything. Always with that smile. That stupid, goofy smile that lit up her dreary world and pulled her into one where nothing bad could happen, that one she’d seen before being lulled to sleep after a terrifying day, that one--
Stop it.
To this day she still felt the rough surface of his chapped lips that were sweet to the taste, his ever-present warmth beneath his skin, and the weight of his melancholic gaze softening like butter when they settled on her.
 Miss your small hands in the palm of mine The fact they're good at making, Miss your sitting up incessantly, And the fact you're always waking in the night, night.
 Sleepless tendencies that (Y/N) had kept under wraps for years were impossible to hide from the Doctor. Until one time she’d been too tired to move but too exhausted to sleep and he’d been so frightened for her that he tucked her into his lap and read to her through the night. Old habits die hard, but the Doctor seemed to be excellent at laying hers to rest. Never in her life had she slept so well. Shadows beneath her (E/C) eyes had faded considerably, bags had grown smaller and smaller. Her skin had been radiant, her need for coffee constantly diminished, and her mood overall had been improved.
It came as no surprise that she grew worse after her departure and the absence of him at her side as she slept. An average four or five hours that had grown to eight or nine abruptly reduced to one or three, if she was lucky, with prescription medication that only worked half the time. When respite was nowhere in sight and any hope she had was dashed, she’d sit at her desk and write. Pen down her thoughts, that often revolved around her extraterrestrial almost lover. Paint intricate pictures of her memories of him, wiry and tall and beautiful in his recondite sort of way. He could’ve started his own artistic revolution, his own stylistic movement in history, with all the indescribable sensations and colors he carried in his vivid personality.
Other restless nights when (Y/N) lived on the TARDIS, she would bake. Whip up delicious, fluffy treats that always appealed to the Doctor’s more puerile side. For hours she would remain in the kitchen, bowl in hand and a wicked look of concentration on her face. There she would lay in wait.
Then the Doctor would come sneak in, surprise her with his silly faces and odd voices, eat her cupcakes or cookies, and they’d burst into childlike laughter and whisk flour through the air. She would chase him through the halls, following his powder trail and clouds until she found him and pounce on him. And then he’d do this funny sort of motion where he pressed his forehead to hers, crinkle up his nose and they’d watch each other for ages. Even as flour fluttered and settled around their bodies, like dust in a war zone, they would go still and lose themselves in each other, in their moment of silent communication.
Should he choose to return for her someday, (Y/N) would have something sweet prepared for him. All her letters and treats would be thrust into his arms, like an offering, a material plea. Sincere, profuse apologies would sputter from her mouth, for fighting, for not listening, for being so immature and emotional. On her knees she would beg, urge him to take her with him again. Anything to escape, to be back in his presence. The humdrum of her day to day life ate away at her insides, leaving her yearning more and more for the adventures from before each day. Yearning to see his face, feel his hearts, and heed whatever it was he’d tried to tell her that day, months ago.
 And I, I hope for your life You forget about mine Forget about mine
 Knowing the Doctor too well, (Y/N) concluded he likely wouldn’t come back. More often than not when someone he cared for told him to go away, he actually listened. The knowledge that he probably locked himself away at some point and blamed himself for her frustration killed her. Guilt gnawed at her constantly, remorse at the thought of him beating himself up over a pathetic human such as her. But he was so wonderfully empathetic, this face.
He always thought so lowly of himself. (Y/N) knew it, from the way his shoulders slumped when he thought he was alone to the sad stare on his idle face. Everything he did plucked at her heart strings, the lowest ballads and the most exquisite symphonies. She hated herself for becoming so attached, for caring so much for this unobtainable, exotic being.
Only in her limited dreams she was normal, an ordinary girl content in a bland life. In some alternate universe she’d never crossed paths with him, rarely wishing it had been this one. Self-loathing set in when she felt this way, because the Doctor was and always will be the greatest thing to happen to her. She couldn’t live a life without him being in it. His life was her life’s favorite part.
 Miss your teeth dug in my shoulder, As we rolled in early morning, Miss your arm dying beneath me, As I lay there simply yawning
 Waking up alone in her too-large-for-only-her bed became the norm for (Y/N). Prior to her leaving, she and the Doctor often shared a bed, constantly straddling the line between platonic and romantic. A line the Doctor played jump rope with, always dragging her into the game. Not that she minded.
Naps galore and numerous nights were spent sleeping together, hands intertwined, or arms draped around each other. In the plush bed, piled high with blankets and pillows, (Y/N) would usually wake after him, only to find he had been awake for hours stroking her hair or rubbing her back. When she’d ask him why he hadn’t woken her, his face would go pink and he would give her a look that was so tender that it caused her to choke up even if only thinking of it. Something about the gentle way his eyes crinkled as his flushed cheeks rose as his thin mouth curled into something so absolutely perfect in her mind, and it stole the breath from her lungs and brought tears to her eyes every damn time he did it.
Even as she attempted to hoist her numb limbs from around him, rubbing clumsily and quickly, she felt his gaze on her. From behind he would curl his lanky limbs around her waist, push his nose into her messy hair and they’d remain in that position until he would leap to his feet, off on some train of thought before it had fully left the station. (Y/N) would giggle to herself and linger behind, moving off to dress and wash her face before joining him on his daily death wish.
 Please forget me, you were right dear, I am cold and self-involved, And though I'll miss you, recent lover I am weak and therefore fold
 Throughout their time together, it had mostly been pleasant. (Y/N) could seldom think of a time where she had room to complain. The Doctor was kind and understanding, attentive and caring. Though during periods after near-death experiences, he would shut himself off, sulk privately in the confines of what she assumed to be his room, hidden away deep in the maze of the TARDIS.
Upon his emergence he would always be different. Dissimilar in subtle ways, from the gold freckles in his eyes to his posture. Thinking himself so clever, she knew he assumed she hadn’t noticed. But of course she noticed. When he changed demeanors, she felt it. His mood was like the charge in the air before a severe storm. Before the rain poured until it flooded, the lightning flashed until it hit an unsuspecting tree, and the thunder rolled with a force that knocked pictures from walls.
And for once she would see a sliver of the side he hid away from his companions. That cold, calculating side that was easy to irritate, quick to anger. A dark area everyone had in their personality, but with the Doctor it was so much more intense. With the centuries he had spent in pain, in complete and total anguish, either alone or watching those he came to care about die, stuck in moral battles with himself, it was only natural for this to happen. For it to be so much more than what any human was accustomed to, like everything else about him.
 Get distracted by my music, Think of nothing else but art I'll write my loneliness in poems, If I can just think how to start
 Attempts to move out of this depression (Y/N) had dove headfirst into seemed futile. Roaming out in the streets until late at night, sitting up in her room until unconsciousness finally took her. During her off days from work she’d weave in and out of bookshelves, sit in the corners of coffee shops and watch the customers, and wander through art galleries, hoping to find some inspiration or eccentric stranger to draw her out of this slump. The most detailed paintings, attractive streetwalkers, and profound of books left her stumped, feeling silly for even attempting to get better.
The only solace she’d found so far was writing, naturally, to the Doctor. Or about him. Or sketching him. At this point it had become obsessive, and it embarrassed her immensely that she allowed this person take over her life. This person who wasn’t a person, who probably wasn’t even sparing her memory a mental second glance.
Overall it felt nice, relieving almost, to express how she felt through some outlet. She resented herself for allowing him to become so ingrained in her life, for letting him in to see her vulnerable soul. A soul she poured across the pages in a cobalt blue diary’s pages. One that she would never be able to fully expose to anyone human, not without thinking of the Doctor’s sorrowful expression, betrayal splaying across his face.
Maybe writing was a beginning for her. A beginning for the closure she needed to resume a somewhat normal life. Closure she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted.
 Dot my I's with eyebrow pencils, Close my eyelids, hide my eyes, I'll be idle in my ideals, Think of nothing else but I.
 All she could see. All she could feel and hear and taste. What was wrong with her? Could she ever more on?
 I, and I
 Returning from her supermarket run, (Y/N) found her door wouldn’t open all the way. Upon the first attempt at flinging it in, she huffed when it bounced back to her, latching once again.  Slowly she pushed it, sliding in the small gap she’d managed to make, barely fitting her grocery bag in with her. Once inside, the bag and its contents were littered all over her entryway as she released it.
There she was. That wonderful blue machine, tall and just as boxy as ever, that she had searched high and low for every time she went out. Her home, her actual home, was there, somewhere in the funny contraption that she’d missed so terribly. All he had to do was come out.
Maneuvering cautiously around the edge of the TARDIS, (Y/N) eagerly waited. Desperately wanting to see the Doctor, her Doctor again, she couldn’t hold herself back. With the intentions of flinging herself into the awkward Time Lord’s arms, she reached to open the door, but it pulled from her grasp. Shocked, she exclaimed and leapt back instinctually, prepared to run. And then she saw who had opened the door.
Short, wispy strands of silver were whipped into curled peaks atop his head. A thin, wrinkled face with annoyance etched into his features and unruly eyebrows set above those eyes, with a large, long nose in between. She would always recognize those eyes, no matter their color or shape. Whatever swam in their depths, (Y/N) had seen before. In that moment she almost saw her Doctor’s hazel eyes, recognition floating there.
He was magnificent. In a broken, mystical way that no words in any language could ever even begin to describe. Enchanting in the way only the Doctor could be, as if it was in the very nature of his people. It was something in the way he held himself, the way he naturally leaned down to her level when they were near, the way familiarity flashed on his face. Like finding your new favorite painting, or hearing a new song, being instantly drawn to it despite not knowing why, but knowing it’s your favorite without having to compare it to others.
“Who... Doctor?”
“I usually get it the other way around, pudding brain.” He smirked at her, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“Doctor?” She asked again, more serious and sure this time round. Anticipation forced its way through her veins. It had to be him. Please.
Sighing dramatically, he smiled. A foreign but handsome expression, standing out on his previously serious face.
“That’s me. Hello, (Y/N).”
Immediately she was in his arms, face in his neck. (Y/N) buried herself into him, taking in his new scent and feel. Suddenly he was awkward again, hands hovering out before hesitantly resting on her back. Suddenly she was crying, thick tears flowing down her face and soaking into his black jacket. In the moment she was carefree, she had her Doctor back. He was here in her arms.
He hadn’t forgotten her.
He didn’t hate her.
There was hope.
“I’m not quite a hugging person now.”
“I don’t fucking care.”
The Doctor exhaled loudly, hands slowly starting to rub her back in an attempt to comfort her. (Y/N) completely missed the countenance he’d made, oddly positioning his head against the top of hers. A certain tender look, warm and content. He’d found her. She wouldn’t let him get away this time. Not that he’d allow her to, anyway.
 And I, I hope for your life You can forget about mine Just forget about mine Oh, mine.
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thezodiaczone · 6 years
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August Forecast for Taurus
There have been quantum changes in your life over the last couple months, Taurus—or at least, you have the sense that things are being rearranged on some grander scale. From uncomfortable to exciting to unsettling, this shift from potential to kinetic energy is part of a long process that’s happening from May 15, 2018, until April 2026 as revolutionizer Uranus visits your sign for the first time since 1942. Uranus takes 84 years to return to each sign, and this once-in-a-lifetime visit is an opportunity to radically reinvent everything from your lifestyle to your appearance to your attitude.
Whew! If you need a minute to take it all in, you’ll get it—and then some! On August 7, Uranus begins its annual five-month retrograde until January 7, 2019. You’ll get a chance to slow down and review, especially when Uranus backs into Aries, activating your twelfth house of closure for its last hurrah this century. While you might be a little frustrated by some stalled progress, this could prove to be a blessing in disguise. It’s an opportunity to confront any complex patterns and relationships and to heal addictions that are keeping you stuck.
As a creature of habit, you tend to tread the same well-worn paths, but those roads keep sending you to the same old places. Been there, done that! Stare any deep-seated fears in the eye, perhaps with the help of a pro, and begin clearing the blocks before Uranus settles into Taurus for a seven-year run in March 2019. You’ll want nothing to stand in the way of your awesome ascent—least of all your own baggage and blind spots.
August provides the occasion to relax and reflect as the Sun travels through Leo and your nurturing fourth house of home and family until August 23. Nesting and connecting with your crew feeds your soul during this homey solar season. Intimate dinner parties, air-conditioned movie nights, trips to an uncrowded beach where you can nap in the sand for hours: Hello, bliss! Take plenty of time for self-care, and keep your space serene.
This is especially important since Mercury, the planet of communication, travel and technology, will be retrograde in Leo from July 26 until August 19. During this wire-crossing backspin, old family feuds could flare, or you might experience friction with a relative or roommate. If you’re visiting loved ones, book a hotel or Airbnb, even if there’s “tons of room” at their place. During Mercury retrograde, it’s always best to have a backup plan. While this time is ripe for reunions, don’t be too quick to volunteer YOUR sleeper sofa or guest room to anyone. Make sure you’ve actually got time to host—and that the visitors are truly self-sufficient people who don’t expect white-glove service. If you’re moving or changing your home, Mercury could cause complications or slowdowns, so read the fine print!
Now that you’re clear on the precautions, get ready: A rare Leo partial solar (new moon) eclipse is arriving on August 11. Ready or not, your living situation or family structure could change, possibly without notice. Some Bulls could hear about a sweet deal on a property—and you’ll need to pounce instead of taking your usual “slow and sensible” approach. A female relative, perhaps your mother, could be involved in events near this eclipse. This is the penultimate eclipse in a series on the Leo/Aquarius axis that’s been transforming your home and career sectors since February 2017. It’s the prelude to a grand finale on January 21, 2019, so it may take until then for things to completely settle or reveal themselves. But if you reflect on the past two years, you’ll see how much you’ve grown—and maybe even radically changed—around home, family, career or work-life balance.
You may still be reeling from July’s two eclipses, especially the Aquarius total lunar (full moon) eclipse on July 27 that rocked your tenth house of professional ambition and long-term goals. This “awakening” put you in touch with what you truly need to feel fulfilled. Eclipses demand that we transform any parts of our lives that don’t work…and if we don’t, they’ll do it for us. For some Bulls, a job may have been eclipsed away—perhaps your company announced a restructuring, or a key colleague suddenly exited. Maybe you were offered a promotion or a leadership opportunity or a new position altogether. Resistance is futile—and a waste of energy—since something much better is on its way!
The last week of August takes a turn for the playful as the Sun enters Virgo and your fifth house of love, passion and self-expression for a month on August 23. Emerge from that cozy cocoon and start making audacious moves. If you’ve been off the grid, post some vacation pics or glam up and film an Instagram Story. Make up for lost social time and go paint the town crimson while your joie de vivre is at peak levels.
One of the month’s luckiest dates is August 25, when the Sun, structured Saturn and innovator Uranus form a rare grand trine—an equilateral “golden triangle” that’s one of astrology’s most auspicious aspects. As these three luminaries harmonize in earth signs, you get a triple shot of courage, assertiveness and head-turning fierceness. Presto, change-o: You could step out of a salon (or out of the metaphorical shadows) and be totally unrecognizable—yet indubitable. If you’ve been wanting to take a bold risk, you’ll get the guts to quit deliberating and actually DO it. Thanks to Saturn in your expansive ninth house, it could involve a life-changing vacation, going back to school, publishing your work or launching a startup biz. With Uranus and Saturn both retrograde, you may feel a pull toward the past. Did you start a project in one of these areas and set it on the back burner? Things could pick up speed now.
You don’t have to do this alone, either. On August 26, the year’s only Pisces full moon illuminates your eleventh house of teamwork and technology, giving you serious collaboration mojo. It’s an amazing day for networking, communing with kindred spirits or kicking off a cutting-edge joint project. You could be celebrating a group victory or gathering with your most vibrant and forward-thinking friends. With Mercury retrograde safely in the rearview from August 19 on, this could be a great date to launch a digital venture or viral social media campaign. The next day (August 27), ambitious Mars ends a two-month retrograde that slowed your goals. The cosmos will be waving that metaphorical red cape at you by the time the month ends, so get ready to charge after something that sets your heart and soul on fire.
Love & Romance
Self-care is sexy! On August 6, amorous Venus parades into Libra and your sixth house of wellness and service for the first of two trips this year, putting you in the mood to nurture yourself (and a lucky plus-one). Tackling a life-improvement mission or a project, like adopting a pet or redoing part of your home, could bring you closer. Single Bulls could meet someone through healthy pursuits, volunteering or even while running errands. There’s some incentive to stop procrastinating on your to-do list!
Heads up: This is the first of Venus’ two trips through Libra this year, thanks to a retrograde through this sign from October 31 to November 16. Plan ahead to avoid any stressful meltdowns later in the year. Be careful not to treat your mate like a fixer-upper, or to get overly involved in trying to help or change them. That could backfire during Round Two of this Venus transit, especially if you feel resentful or used. Maybe part of the lesson is to focus on yourself and things you can control, like getting healthier and treating yourself with the same kindness that you extend to others.
Under the Leo eclipse on August 11—and with Mercury retrograde alongside it in Leo and your domestic quarters until August 19—you have a perfect opportunity to “indulge” in some self-nurturing and maybe even catch up on your beauty sleep! If you’re newly dating or considering living with your partner, follow some Feng Shui principles to make your home more of a love den.
Meantime, the other love planet, fiery Mars, is retrograde from June 26 to August 27. Because this reversal had been taking place in Aquarius and your future-oriented tenth house, some big plans may have slowed down, or you may have been quarreling about shared goals. But once it backs into Capricorn on August 12 (for the duration of the retrograde), put the disagreements on ice and pursue something you enjoy doing together, like a favorite outdoor activity or returning to a cherished vacation spot. If things have been a little too close for comfort, bring some breathing room into the relationship—just enough so you don’t feel like you’re suffocating.
August 7 is a great day to peacefully hash things out if you’ve been feuding. With Venus in peacemaker Libra harmonizing with Mars in practical earth houses, you’ll be able to talk calmly and rationally. Show you’re willing to compromise, and your mate or love interest may be inspired to do the same. Plan a date somewhere beautiful and upscale, but also natural. Think: a farm-to-table restaurant with a chef’s tasting menu or an exclusive vineyard tour.
Key Dates
August 9: Venus-Saturn Square You may realize that a new relationship is moving too fast or that you’ve been leading someone on. Or you might experience the eye-opening awareness that your new “love interest” isn’t that interested at all. Saturn can help you make the necessary adjustments, including hitting the gas if you’ve been going under the speed limit.
Money & Career
Is it time to cash in a few vacation days? The cosmic influence of August will skew heavily toward home, family and fun, as the Sun travels through Leo and your domestic sector until August 23, and after that into your pleasure and playfulness zone when it takes a four-week plunge into Virgo. Make time for enjoyment and pampering before summer wraps up. September and October will be bustling months for you, so stop now to refill your tanks.
On top of that, Mercury, Mars, Saturn, Uranus (in Taurus), Neptune AND Pluto are all retrograde for most if not all of the month. With so many planets in this slowed-down position, August is best used to reflect and inspect. Avoid hasty moves—which aren’t really a Taurus thing anyway—and conduct your due diligence. Sleep on any big decisions that you don’t feel totally confident about, preferably under a big beach umbrella with your toes in the sand!
Career stuff has been all over the map ever since go-getter Mars turned retrograde in Aquarius and your tenth house of success on June 26, a biennial backslide that lasts for two months. Tension and crossed wires may have flared up at work, or you could be waiting rather impatiently for a decision maker to give you the green light. Thanks to a July 27 Aquarius lunar eclipse, things could be even topsy-turvier in your professional life. A project could be especially demanding or challenging, ratcheting up stress levels or causing you to procrastinate while obsessively fretting. All the more reason to take little self-care breaks in between marathon sessions!
You might want to tap a mentor or brush up your skills with a course, especially once Mars backs into Capricorn and your expansive ninth house on August 12 for the duration of its retrograde, which ends on August 27. Be careful not to bite off more than you can chew, as you’re at risk for over-promising and under-delivering. Pace yourself: Mars will rocket through Capricorn and Aquarius for a second, retrograde-free trip from August 27 to November 15, which will catalyze anything that got slowed down. You’ll be glad you did your research and refueled because things could start moving at warp speed!
Key Dates
August 2: Mars-Uranus Square You might not be in sync with a team under this “rugged individualist” angle of ego-tripping Mars and hotheaded Uranus. You could feel threatened by a person who comes on too strong and doesn’t listen to anyone. (Or maybe you’re the one acting that way?) Try to stay flexible—though under these volatile skies, that’s way easier said than done.
Love Days: 12, 17 Money Days: 6, 24 Luck Days: 4, 22 Off Days: 1, 15, 19
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fanaticwritings · 7 years
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Red [Steve Rogers x Reader]
A/N: This was inspired by my favourite fanfic writer @ enterprisewriting. I can’t even imagine matching her level of writing but I tried. I love the idea but the execution may not be amazing. Nevertheless, do give this a read.
Losing him was blue like I’d never known..
The coffee machine was fated to never work for you. You pressed the button, frustrated at the dispenser. You were in desperate need of coffee. Surely the bitterness would temporarily take your mind off of certain things.
“Is it not working again?” a voice, that you immediately recognised as Bucky’s, called from behind you.
“Nope,” you replied, popping the ‘p’.
Bucky snorted and moved past you. He pressed the button on the machine and it miraculously whirred to life. The coffee poured into the cup he was holding as he looked over to you, eyebrows raised.
“I’m telling you, the damned thing is hell bent on not giving me any coffee,” you muttered as Bucky let out a small chuckle.
He handed you the cup, pouring coffee into another one for himself.
“So,” he said, leaning against the wall and sipping at the drink, “What’s got you up and awake?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” you retorted, biting your lip.
“I’ve got a shift in an hour, doll. What’s your excuse?”
You couldn’t help but smile at him. Bucky was your confidant, your best friend and you’d grown quite close to him over the few years you’d known him. The two of you looked after each other, it was a mutual thing.
You, however, ignored his question and sipped at the coffee, lifting up the cup further and further.
You flinched at the bitterness that coated your tongue but it was enough to help you blink back salty tears.
You flashed Bucky a small smile before throwing the cup into the bin.
Bucky didn’t press further, only looked at you with a soft expression instead, concern visible in his green eyes.
Your lower lip trembled slightly and you bit down on your lip. Your chest tightened and your throat burned. Bucky grew blurry as your eyes glazed over.
Bucky embraced you then and you buried your face into his shoulder. Your tears wet his blue t-shirt but he didn’t care. He rubbed your back slowly, as you hiccupped and sobbed into his shoulder.
“Are you going to be okay?” Bucky whispered softly, as he patted your head.
You didn’t reply, the lump in your throat too big for you to be able to say anything. You only tightened your arms around him, letting yourself go entirely. You heart literally hurt.
Love was never easy, but surely it wasn’t this difficult either?
Missing him was dark grey all alone..
You pulled the comforter closer around you as you stared out the window. It was almost poetic, how the weather matched your mood. Rain pattered down on the window in a steady rhythm, unlike the beat of your heart.
Steven Grant Rogers. You couldn’t get him out of your head. Everytime you closed your eyes, his blue ones were all you could picture. You saw his grin and the way he shook his head when you did something dumb. You pictured his laugh that was rare but genuine and pure. You thought about the countless nights you’d spent talking to him about nothing and everything; of the romantic dates you’d gone on and the amazing time you had had. You remembered how giddy you were after he’d told you he loved you for the very first time; how you’d felt so warm when his eyes light up and crinkled as you said it back to him. You brushed a tear off your cheek and tried to read the text on the page in front of you for the eleventh time.
All his love, compassion was yours for a whole year and then you’d ruined it. There was no denying that you were still in love with him, you simply couldn’t move on. Even when you had spent countless nights partying with Sam and Bucky and danced with other men, you had missed him. Nobody you met made you feel as good as Steve did. You couldn’t get him out of your system.
You weren’t even sure if you wanted to.
You threw your book onto the bed and pulled your comforter upto your chin, snuggling into it.
All these memories were black and white against the color of a future together you often found yourself picturing.
Forgetting him was like trying to know somebody you never met..
Hand to hand combat wasn’t your style but you had no other choice in the given situation. You lunged at the agent and wrapped your arms around his waist. The two of you went hurtling through the commissary and landed on a table as steel utensils went flying around you. You threw a punch at him but the agent skillfully blocked it and wrapped his free hand around your throat. You clawed at his hand before kicking him in the groin with your knee, sending him scrambling backward.
He was tall, buff and typically baby-faced but you were sure could take him down.
You rubbed your bruised throat before punching him again, making full contact with his jaw this time. The man yelled in pain, pressing a hand to his jaw. You launched another blow but the agent blocked it midway, and slammed a fist into your rib. You were sure you heard it crack as pain rippled through you.
With the remaining strength you had you kicked the agent in his chest and he fell backwards and onto the floor. You kneeled onto him, landing blow after blow, when Steve’s voice rang out into your ear through the comm., “Y/N where are you?”
His voice caught you off guard and the agent took advantage of the diversion- pushing you backwards and pointing a gun at you. Your aching legs refused to move when you tried to drag yourself out of harm’s way.
It cannot end like this, you thought, as you looked him in his eye.
Just as he pulled the trigger, something circular- Steve’s shield, you realised- flew over you, deflecting the bullet and hit the agent square in the chest. The agent flew backwards because of the tremendous force and landed on the floor with a thud. The fall rendered him unconscious.
You heaved a sigh of relief just as Steve knelt beside you, concern written all over his face.
“Are you alright?” he asked, his blue eyes scanning you for injuries. Your heart clenched at the way he said it and looked at you. He was always concerned about your safety inspite of the issues between you two. It hurt more than it comforted you.
You nodded, unable to speak. You were sure your rib was broken but all you could think about was how Steve’s hand was ghosting your back.
You’d avoided him all this while, rubbed your skin raw to forget how comforting his touch was. You’d refused to go on missions with him, remained in the confines of your room to avoid meeting him altogether lest you see him and feel your heart burn again.
He was kneeling close to you and you wanted to lean into his chest and stay there forever, feel his warmth against you once more.
You shook yourself out of those thoughts. You stood up, unable to face him anymore, even though you felt you were going to die because of the pain. You clutched your sides and walked away from him, the pain in your heart added with the physical injuries almost choking you.
How were you ever going to forget him when the entirety of you never even wanted to?
But loving him was red..
You sighed as you turned the handle of the door to terrace. Reading wasn’t helping your mood, so Bucky insisted that you get some fresh air.
The warm breeze hit you as soon as you stepped on to the terrace, your hair flying around your head. The sky was a perfect blend of scarlet and pink and the stark silhouette of the the cityline against the orange of the sky looked so picturesque, that you wanted to whip out your brushes and paint it.
Out of the corner of your eye you noticed a hunched figure leaning against the cemented railing.
Steve.
Part of you wanted to bolt down the stairs and get away from him. The other part wanted to run right into his arms instead. The longer you looked at him, the more you wanted to do the latter.
Before you could tear your gaze away from him, Steve turned.
His face was a little red and tear streaks marked his cheeks. His eyes looked a little red rimmed too. Had he been crying here, all this while?
Your legs seemed to have a mind of their own as you found yourself walking towards him. You came to a hault before him, not very close but close enough for your heart to start beating wildly.
He had been crying. His blue eyes were a dull hue, matching his state. Up close, you could see he was hurting and the pain hadn’t left his eyes even though the tears had stopped.
“Steve,” you whispered. It broke everything in you, seeing him like this.
He looked down at his feet, running a hand over his face. After a few moments passed he let out a low laugh and said, “I haven’t cried this much since I thought I had lost Buck forever.”
Tears started to stream down your cheeks.
“Steve,” you mumbled again. You wanted to say so much. You wanted to apologise for hurting him the way you did but you thought what you were doing was the right thing to do then. You didn’t, couldn’t have known that it would take him away from you. You wanted to ask for his forgiveness and tell him that he deserved better, that all you wanted was for him to be happy. But the words caught in your mouth and burned your throat.
Steve ran his hands through his hair, messing it up, so that it stuck out in different directions. It reminded you of all the times you had woken up to his sleepy eyes and bed hair.
“I can’t stay away from you, Y/N. How did we end up like this?” He sounded so broken and disturbed, it killed you.
“I screwed up Steve, that’s what happened. I hurt you,” you said, looking at him, tears spilling faster now.
He said nothing.
“And- and I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry that you had to go through something like this. I thought I was doing the right thing but I clearly wasn’t-”
“We’ve been over this Y/N,” he said turning around, his back now facing you.
It was happening again. The two of you were going to go through the same thing once more. The heartbreak, the tears. You’d somehow sloppily patched up your wounds over the course of three weeks but they were starting to feel afresh the more you looked at him.
You couldn’t let him go. Not again. Your heart yearned for his touch, his comfort, him.
You moved over to stand next to Steve. “If you ask me to leave, I’ll leave without a word. If it makes it too hard for us, I’ll quit the Avengers even-”
Steve looked up at you, eyebrows knitting. “You’ll do no such thing Y/N. This is your home. You can’t leave the people you call family!”
“But I’m clearly-”
“I don’t care what you did before Y/N. I’m not even thinking about that anymore. All I can think about is us,” his voice cracking at the ‘us’.
You couldn’t believe that he had forgiven you. The fact that he thought about the two of you made you happy, albeit momentarily.
“I hurt you Steve and if I do it again-”
“You hurt me by putting yourself in danger, Y/N. Even if that’s your duty..I can’t help but be protective.”
You didn’t know what to say. It always came down to this. The situation was so simple yet so complex it was almost comical. You wanted to laugh but all you did was step closer to him.
“I want us, Y/N,” he whispered. He shook his head. Part of him was so mad at you for doing what you did then, but the other part of him loved you enough to know he could forgive you. It confused him and tore at his heart. He didn’t know what to do and how to make it right.
You took his hands into yours. The gesture took courage but just holding his hand warmed your insides and made you feel alive again.
“Tell me how to fix this,” you whispered, running your hand through his hair and resting it against his cheek. He didn’t look at you but his face had lost some of the sadness. It gave you some courage.
“Please,” you insisted, caressing his cheek with your thumb.
You stood on your tiptoes and rested your forehead against his. He looked at you then, his blue eyes radiant again, as if your mere presence had made the pain go away.
He sighed and looked down again before looking back at you. He’d missed you. Inspite of everything, he loved you and it was why it hurt so much in the first place.
He made his decision then.
He let out another sigh and bumped his nose against yours. His lips brushed yours as his hand rested on your neck.
“Stay with me,” was all he said.
Loving him was red.
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ED Interviews: The Ben Garrison  (  @GrrrGraphics ) Interview
crackrabbit ( for ED) : First off, you probably get asked this a lot, but can you tell us about how you started drawing and painting? Ben Garrison: I started writing stories when I was in the 5th grade. Then I began illustrating them with little cartoons. I enjoyed drawing stuff for classmates--caricatures and such. I would draw caricatures of my teachers. One time I drew one of a rather brusque math teacher in the 9th grade. He snuck up on me and grabbed the drawing. I thought I was in big trouble, but he loved it and put it up on the bulletin board. By the time I was in high school I started painting. That's when I knew what I wanted to be in life--a fine artist. I studied painting in college, although I have a BA and not a BFA. My wife Tina has a BFA and she was a better cartoonist than me when I met her. I've gotten better since. After I graduated, I got a job at a newspaper and I became a graphic artist instead. I still draw complex information graphics for corporate clients. Political cartooning was a just a sideline when i started drawing them in 2009. I did not expect any fame or money. In fact, they cost me a lot in terms of a smeared reputation and a resulting loss of commercial work.
 crackrabbit ( for ED) : Do you ever listen to music in the background while creating your art? If so (and even if not) what kind of music do you enjoy?
Ben Garrison: Yes. I listen to classical music 90 percent of the time. Some of my darker and more complex cartoons were drawn while listening to Shostakovich symphonies in particular. I like everything he has written, but his Fourth through Eleventh ones in particular--each one is a masterpiece. To me it's a shame that young people aren't listening to the greatest music ever written. Instead they subject their ear drums to heavy metal, rap, hip hop and other trash. I encourage them to listen to classical music because it will connect them to the sublime. I also like early jazz music, old Bing Crosby and Frank Sinatra tunes as well as some old standards from that bygone era. If any of your readers want to start with an easy to understand classical music introductory piece, I suggest Mozart's Symphony No. 39. It never fails to put me in a good mood.
crackrabbit ( for ED) : A lot of people on the so-called altright (which includes the new right , or alt-lite as some call it) like to spend free time reading political/philosophy books. Do you ever have time to read books, with all the work you do; and if so, what kind of books do you like and/or recommend?
Ben Garrison: I consider myself to be a libertarian cartoonist and not part of the 'alt right.' I don't have time to read all the books I want to read. I like reading books on history a lot. I minored in history when I was in college. Victor Davis Hanson is one of my favorite history writers. Most recently I finished a book titled "The Problem With Socialism" by Thomas DiLorenzo. I highly recommend it to everyone. I just started a book about my favorite president, "Andrew Jackson," written by H.W. Brands. I don't read a lot of fiction, but a friend gave me "All the Light We Cannot See," by Anthony Doerr and that was pretty good.
crackrabbit ( for ED) : You’ve appeared on INFOWARS/Alex Jones Show a bit over the last two years. How did that come about?
Ben Garrison: I listened to Alex a lot when I first began drawing the cartoons and many of my ideas were inspired directly from some of the things he said. He speaks very colorfully and uses a lot of metaphors that conjure up vivid imagery. I was very angry at him when his divorce was announced and I found out he was a multi-millionaire. I definitely heard him say that he wasn't a millionaire and that most of the money went back into his operations. I was angry that he was hanging out with that scum bag Charlie Sheen for a while, too. Mostly, lot of my anger sprang from regret, because for a while he had guests on such as Max Kaiser and many others who were predicting $500 per ounce silver. It was during this time that I drew a lot of pro-silver cartoons.
I went 'all in' on silver including getting leveraged with silver futures and I got wiped out in 2011 when JP Morgan illegally colluded to short massive amounts of the metal. I should have invested in Bitcoin instead. Now silver is in a protracted bear market, but in retrospect it wasn't Alex's fault and I forgave him. He does deserve to be a millionaire for his years of hard work and waking people up. My financial destruction couldn't have come at a worst time though, because the trolling was at its worst when I was struggling the most. It was hard to find commercial work when search engines summoned up horrific defamation.
Anyway, with the help of my wife Tina we began righting the ship in 2015 and the presidential election in 2016 helped us turn things around. Now I'm close to being able to make a living from cartooning alone. The trolls no longer concern me, although I still despise Andrew Anglin. His troll army helped get me kicked out of the art gallery I was in because they harassed the owner. I'm glad to see someone with the means is going after him for libel and harassment, even though I was disappointed to see the guys at WeSearchr lending him a hand financially. He certainly doesn't deserve it.
I've been on the Alex Jones three times now. It's fast-paced and I have no idea in advance what I'll be asked, so I have to think fast on my feet. I don't claim to have any special talent for public speaking. Mostly I'm content to let him talk. He's a professional and an entertainer. I think he does believe in what he's doing and he's helped us a lot. I've been on many other radio shows and podcasts and those platforms have allowed me more time to sort out my thoughts, but even still I'm mostly a ranter. I never use a script.
crackrabbit ( for ED) : In the image (that i have saved) of your iconic “March of Tyranny” cartoon, there are pencils visible. Do you usually pencil then ink your cartoons, or what is the production process? Ben Garrison:Yeah, I pencil my cartoons in on a large piece of quality 3-ply illustration paper and then ink them in by hand. "The March of Tyranny" was drawn in about three hours with a 'Sharpie' pen and it was drawn rather small. I don't draw them like that any more, but back then I didn't think I'd get many viewers, so I didn't spend a lot of time crafting them. A lot of my earlier cartoons were dashed out quickly.
crackrabbit ( for ED) : Tell me about your fine art paintings.. What paint mediums do you work in most? And what painters are influences on you?
Ben Garrison: In a perfect world I wouldn't be cartooning at all--I'd be working on paintings. I enjoy that the most. I use oil on canvas and a local carpenter here frames them for me--he uses 100 year-old barn wood which gives the paintings a unique western flair. I like Picasso even though he was a monster in his personal life. I also admire the work of DeKooning a great deal. He was a genius. Yes, I know a lot of people consider modern art to be 'degenerate' but they're wrong. I think what they object to is 'conceptual art,' which consists of existential, post-modern exhibition type stuff and I agree it's boring and bad. crackrabbit ( for ED) : What are your thoughts about how the libertarian movement has changed over the past 2-3 decades? Ben Garrison: Libertarians were dealt a setback with the tongue poking Gary Johnson. He hurt the movement. Johnson is a liberal who wants pot legalized. That's it. He apparently smoked too many harvests because he couldn't even name one world leader he admired, even though as governor of New Mexico he must have worked with Mexican leaders such as Vicente Fox. Regardless, I'm a Libertarian because it's the best means to push back against an ever-growing leviathan government. Sure, it may be a waste of time but as Rhett Butler said, "Maybe it's because I've always had a weakness for lost causes." crackrabbit ( for ED) : Where did ya learn to put so much detail into every section of your cartoon pieces?
Ben Garrison: I've always put a lot of detail in my work and when I started out my cartoons were over-worked and chalk full of obsessive detail. I've actually simplified things now. Some people hate what I do, but many more like looking for the little hidden Easter eggs in the detail. The last cartoon I drew featured a small cockroach on Hillary's hamburger of corruption. Nobody saw it. I'm an old man now and my style is pretty much fixed. I will still try to get better, but some want me to draw in an animé style and so forth. I don't think so! Someone wrote me and said I had a lot of work to do...he said my inking was bad, my color theory was terrible and I'd never be a 'professional.' Well, I've made my living via art for nearly 40 years now. I'm thinking that makes me a professional. I've also sold a good number of my latest cartoon collection book. Still, harsh criticism comes with the territory. Some people think my cartoons are the best ever and some think they're the worst ever. As long as I'm getting their attention and drawing memorable things, then I'll consider them to be successful.
Encyclopedia Dramatica would liek 2 thank Ben for the opportunity to interview him.
Ben’s work can be found, viewed and even purchased at grrrgraphics.com . If you want to buy his designs on shirts you can go to https://teespring.com/stores/grrrgraphics-t-shirts . Finally, feel free to help support Ben on Patreon at https://www.patreon.com/grrrgraphics .
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aniksuman · 7 years
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Was it a game or a film, we watched last night!
Before neymer scored brilliantly from tht free kick it looked all over for barca. On tht moment, it looked only neymer was believing it was possible.Neymer too went back his half after that brilliant free kick with a somber mood, it said, ‘i did all i could, even though, it might not b enough’ types of body language without having typical eagerness whn a scorer takes back the ball quickly for not allowing opponent to wast time. Messi did it after scoring from penalty, but not neymer jr. Still psg seemed unshaken apparently cruising through the quarter final. Even th gr8 Messi looked out f sorts looking for inspiration. His dribbling, dozing, nutmegging all going in vein. As a barca fan i was happy whn neymer stood for free kick. It seemed his moment. He has some history for delivering the magical moment,especially winning Olympic for Brazil n 2016. After tht stunner, it seemed possible. Thn Messi delivered a magical curled chip for suarez .And neymer showed the steel nerve to stand for the penalty. At the eleventh hour, whn barca goalkeeper hanging around the penalty box f psg,we all had sympathy for him, wht a poor fella, had fallen down 2,3 times already n midfield leaving his post wide open. But whn neymer dribbled, dozed just outside of penalty box , it seemed he had made a mistake, we thought he should have taken direct shot towards post, cause it was 94th minute f the game.Most d do abd that's why they don't become neymer. He was calm and still looking for the best available option. And he saw Garcia larking n box. His chip strangely found th boot golden change, Garcia, thtL Luis Enrique just had made , rest s history.
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