#4 star charity

[pixyrevenge]

Get you a charity that does “Cow Hug Therapy”

[grayrazor]

Ships that are cities.

[a-night-like--this]

“Thrilled to be sharing this spectacular piece of work with you this weekend, entitled 'UNDERNEATH THE STARS' - this is one of four pieces by this mystery artist - we'll be sharing the others with you over the coming weeks”

— The HeART Project

[ghoulphile]

sticky fingers | c.h./the ghoul

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 4.5k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; mildly dubious consent, dirty talk, degradation kink, fingering, squirting, rough sex, size kink, standing doggystyle, overstimulation, teasing, choking, dacryphilia, cooper howard is his own warning (he nasty y'all), canon compliant - takes place around ep 7, a grab bag mix of the show and the games ➥ summary | “Lil girls should know it’s rude ta steal.” ➥ notes | i love my men like i love my beef jerky 🫠 i wrote this over 16 fevered hours after finishing the finale. hope you enjoy~ minor edits 4/22/24 | x posted to ao3 | masterlist | feedback is always appreciated ❤️ feel free to send in thots, questions, requests!

It begins, as most things in the Southwest Commonwealth do, with a fight for survival.

City life is tough to be sure, but here on the outskirts of pocket civilizations where there’s nothing but long stretches of desolate wasteland - arid, sunbaked earth and scorched shrubbery - for miles around?

Well, if the ferals, fiends, and super mutants don’t get you in the night, then the desert itself will. During the day the sun burns overhead so nuclear hot, heat glimmers on the horizon in dancing waves.

Unforgiving, relentless as blink-and-you-miss-it mirages are swallowed by ever shifting sands.

It’s easy to get lost.

Even easier to boil alive in your armor if you’re unprepared.

Far too many travelers from the Eastern Commonwealths have met their demise here, where shade is sparse, and water even moreso. The rain - if it does blow in over the mountains - brings rad sickness.

If you’re lucky enough to still be alive, the only reprieve from the heat is in the stooped bones of bombed buildings and ramshackle shacks... where you're just as likely to catch a knife in the back from a chem fried addict as you are relief.

Because here, in the Wastes, danger lurks in sand and shadow alike.

You don’t trek out into the flats half-cocked: a fact all locals know. And if you do decide to? Well, you learn one way or another.

No, only the truly ignorant - or the desperate - dare to tempt man and nature.

Consequently, as you dust off the crumbs from the last half of a Fancy Lads Snack Cake and suck a melted smear of icing from your thumb, you're of the latter half.

You tried holding off for as long as you could. But once the shakes started, you knew you couldn’t put off eating lest you pass out and wake up in a slaver camp.

Well, shit, you think as you rattle a dented canister of purified water. This fucking sucks.

Almost going cross-eyed, your tongue hovers under the rim as you watch the last lazy drop fall free. You catch it with a grimace, smacking your lips. The water tastes metal warm in your sour mouth, barely enough to wet your whistle - let alone your thirst.

You began rationing the last of your supplies days ago, and it’s been a battle against light-headedness ever since. Pretty soon you won’t have the strength to defend yourself, scavving be damned.

Come on. Think - gotta think. What can I scrap for caps?

Not only is Filly more than half a day away, Ma June isn’t one for charity cases. The fact she offered twenty extra caps last time for some burnt books and bent bobby pins was as close as you were ever going to get to a Wasteland miracle.

Sunken cheeks and pleading eyes can only get you so far; everyone’s gotta eat.

"Fuck..." The palms of your hands grind into your eye sockets until you see stars. "FUCK!"

There are two unspoken laws in this otherwise lawless land: steal or starve, live or die. A grim reminder that surrounds you in old bleached bones, empty bullet casings, and scraps of cloth fluttering in the breeze.

Someone always has to be top dog. If you’re lucky, they might be willing to share their spoils.

It’s as you’re considering what pieces of yourself you’re willing to barter that you see them. On the horizon, coming from the west, are two dark blobs.

Stark against the flat plains - a shining beacon of salvation - is a man in a ratty duster and cowboy hat. The saddlebag tossed over his shoulder bounces with his steps while a dog trots beside him, its sable coat rippling with muscle.

Pay dirt.

Making sure to keep low and distant, you stalk them. Watching, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

When the sun dips low, the sky a swath of pale pink and gold, they make camp at a blown-out Drumlin Diner. Off in the distance, thunder rumbles and sickly clouds gather.

Dark and roiling, acid green; a Radstorm brewing.

Electricity cracks at your skin, stands your hair on end. You scrub your hands over your arms, huddling into yourself for warmth. Meanwhile, the stranger seems to luxuriate in the budding promise of rad rain.

He lounges under an awning, his back pressed against a defunct Nuka Cola fridge. He gazes in the direction of the oncoming weather while mindlessly running his fingers through the dog’s fur as it curls up against his legs.

Occasionally, its ears twitch, and its eyes crack open.

Whenever it glances in your direction, you hold your breath and squeeze your eyes shut but it never gives any other indication that it notices your presence.

A small mercy you’re thankful for.

While you’re a pretty good shot, your body is weak with hunger. Besides, you have quick hands and light feet. There’s no doubt you can stealth your way in and out before he realizes his pack is lighter than he left it.

You’ll only take what you need - not interested in causing any more trouble than is necessary. Some food, maybe something to drink if he can spare it, and something to pawn. Just enough supplies to get you sorted in Filly.

Anyway, he certainly isn’t hurting for it by the look of things.

Any guilt you felt was short-lived when he settled down after dropping his pack inside, walking out with an inhaler of Jet in one hand and a can of Cram in the other.

Watched, greedy, as he cracked it open and picked at the tin of meat with lazy fingers. Salivated as he sucked them clean in between deep pulls of chem.

Soon, you decide, licking your lips as he chews, swallows. Soon.

However when push comes to shove, the stranger proves far more keen than you give him credit for.

The world spins like a hit of Daytripper, a kaleidoscope of color as your skull bounces off the wall with a loud crack. Air rushes from your lungs as something huge - hot and heavy - slams into you from behind.

Pins you against the wall with ease as your ears ring.

Something rattles loose; your teeth too large and your tongue too thick. Warm metal floods your mouth as the side of your face throbs in time with the rabbit fast stutter of your heartbeat.

Pain sparks and your stomach rolls.

"Wha's?" you slur, thoughts dripping like wax. "Wh-at's..."

Meanwhile, a gloved hand lassos around your throat like a collar. Brute fingers squeeze the tender flesh of your jugular until you hear your pulse in your ears. Senses struggling - sluggish to adjust in the encroaching night - as tiny cavities eat at your vision, little pockets of darkness.

“Lil girls should know it’s rude ta steal," a gruff voice mocks. “Betcha thought you was real slick, huh? Tch. You ask me, you’re dumber than shit, Darlin'.”

Trying to regain your bearings, you shake your head only to groan. “I don’t - ‘m not -” It’s difficult to concentrate, a throbbing tempo taking up residence in your temples. The words come slow. “Wha’d you mean?”

He whistles, long and low-pitched, "D’ya have any idea who you're fucking with?"

“N-No…”

“How’s about I show you, then?”

Warm breath puffs over the shell of your ear, a tongue sliding out to trace along the lobe. You jolt, squirming in discomfort as he crowds closer.

“Tasty lil thing like you, wrapped up all nice and pretty just for me." He chuckles. "Why, it must be Christmas.”

What the hell is he talking about?

It’s hard to breathe with his heavy weight suffocating you; the scent of gunpowder and bitter smoke clogging your nostrils with every labored inhale. His lips - ragged - scrape over the nape of your neck.

The grip on your throat squeezes once, twice; leather sticks to your sweaty skin.

You squint your sore eyes, taking in the faint flickers of firelight that spill through the open doorway. The desert chill of night has settled in, creeping through the busted out windows to dig beneath your padded armor.

Thunder rumbles directly overhead as lightning follows in flashes of acid green. It’s only a matter of time before sheets of rain come pouring down; the air sticky with humidity, trembling with energy.

The Radstorm has finally arrived.

You’ll undoubtedly get sick if you leave the shelter of the diner - might even die from it if you can’t afford or find any RadAway. But as the stranger’s chest digs into your shoulders, and the dog curls up in the corner - uncaring of your plight as its nose tucks into the whip-thin tail - you think you’ll take your chances.

Tilting back to glance at him from over your shoulder through damp eyes, you say, “Look--”

Only his hand moves, viper quick, as it slides from the front of your neck to the nape. Strong fingers clamp down like a vice, like scuffing an unruly dog.

He grinds your face into the wall, rough metal shredding your cheek.

You cry out, a soft, pained little thing that echoes through the empty diner.

“Now why’d you gotta go an' make me do that?”

A phantom glimpse told you all you needed to know; broad jaw, thin lips, a hollow nasal ridge, creeping radiation burns and cracked skin. Ghoul.

“Let’s try this again, Sugar.”

His free hand - sans glove - creeps over the curve of your hip to splay along the swell of your belly, fingers tucking up under the hem of your shirt. You shiver at the stroke of roughened skin.

“Don’t take another peep or I might jus' have ta pluck out those pretty eyes of yours.”

Dread pools low in your gut, a leaden ball.

Everything in you screams: RUN, RUN, RUN.

Alarms blare but you freeze. Stare straight ahead at the featureless wall, eyes wide and unseeing. Through the foggy mire of your thoughts - half formed and shapeless - you have enough presence to understand the precarious nature of your position. 

Heart hammering, you plead for mercy, “Please, I’m - I’m sorry.”

"Aw, ain't that real sweet?" He remains impassive, unmoved. "The little thief does got some manners after all."

Without warning, the sharp toe of his cowboy boot kicks apart your feet. In the ensuing empty space between your thighs, his leg slots into place. Spurs dig into the tender meat of your ankle, little kisses of pain, as his hips rut forward against your ass.

You choke on your spit, pulse jumping in your throat.

"H-Hey, that's..." You attempt to shove at any part of him you can reach to no avail. Built and broad with compact muscle, it's like trying to move a brick wall. "I said I was sorry, okay!"

He ignores you, burying his face into the space behind your ear. A deep inhale sounds next to your head, the expansion of his chest against your back so firm you're not sure you won't fuse together.

The whiskey rough groan he releases does wicked things, makes your mind wander to places it shouldn't. Full of grit and gravel as his cock twitches against your backside, a burning line of heat.

A shiver ricochets down your spine.

He grunts, says, "Mm, you smell good enough ta eat."

The cap of his knee nudges up against your clit with a sudden jolt, shocks of pleasure electrifying your body. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, and a sob threatens to scrape its way up from the depths of your throat.

You swallow, mouth desert dry. "Come on, let's just forget all about this, yeah?" you reason. "No harm done. I'll even give you whatever I've got left so - so..."

He makes a noise in the back of his throat, the vibration rattling through your chest. "So?" he prompts, plucking at the waistband of your trousers.

"So let me go?"

"Now why would I go an' do an asinine thing like that?" he replies. "If you think you can buy your freedom, think again, Sweetheart."

Rain pings off the metal roof, the smell of pungent ozone and rusting metal wafting in through busted windows and open doors.

“'Sides,” he pauses to turn your attention outside, “I’d hate ta have you yakin’ before the fun’s even started.”

There’s no way to misconstrue his meaning when he punctuates the statement with a teasing rut of his hips. Those rugged fingers tug open the clasp of your trousers, yank until the material goes slack and pools around your ankles.

“Hey, wait--!”

You jolt, hands scrambling for purchase as he slides his leg against your core. The friction of his pants through your thin cotton underwear makes you ache.

Ripping through your bottom lip, blood beading to the surface, you choke on a high-pitched whimper. "I..."

There's no way he can't feel your reaction.

How quickly you're getting wet as he drags you along the length of his thigh while yanking your hips back into the cradle of his pelvis. You meet him in a slow grind that boils your blood and steals the breath from your lungs.

It’s been - shit - far too long since you’ve felt anything other than hunger, thirst; the animal drive to keep pushing forward.

"You like this, don'tcha?"

You hear the dagger-sharp smile hidden in his words.

He croons, "What would your fellow smoothies think, huh? Here you are lettin’ a ghoul get you all hot n bothered - and you’re lovin’ it. Ain't you?"

You throb in response, heat stealing its way into your cheeks as you turn your head away in shame. His dark chuckle lets you know he felt the squeeze of your thighs, the rock and dip of your hips against his knee.

"I - I don't..." you stutter, struggling for a retort. “I’m not--”

A tremble works its way through your body, crushed as you are between the rad warm burn of his body and the wall. Completely at his mercy as you try to figure out where it all went wrong and what you can do to worm your way out of this one.

Terrified of what'll happen if you stay, terrified of what'll happen if you go; stuck in limbo as what was meant to be a simple grab-and-dash devolved into this confusing cluster of shame and lust.

You loathe the embers of desire kindling to life low in your belly.

"You really outta start bein' more honest, Sweetheart."

A large hand dips beneath the worn band of your underwear, and you wait with baited breath. Helpless as calloused fingertips brush over the swell of your mond.

Your inner thighs are uncomfortably sticky with slick, and your eyes burn in humiliation. Your throat trembles around all the words you want to say.

"Didn't anyone teach you lyin' was bad?" he asks rhetorically as his fingers slip down to play with the swollen bud of your clit, tapping lightly.

You keen, low and wounded.

Short nails dig into your palms as you flex your hands for want of something to grab onto.

“I am being honest,” you bite out through grit teeth. Sweat dapples your furrowed brow. “Just lemme go, please.”

"I find that hard ta believe," he replies. "Sorry to say, but you're shit at lyin'. Just look how hungry your lil cunt is for me."

It’s the only warning you get before those long digits plunge deep inside, two becoming three as they stretch you wide. Hollow you out; knuckles massaging your entrance as the tips prod along the sensitive front wall of your cunt.

You clamp down with a strangled moan. “Shit!”

This is a horrible idea - but it’s been forever and a day since you’ve felt anything other than your own touch.

Whether it be the bone-deep loneliness you’ve been shoving down for months or the sudden, inexplicable need for contact, you long for a reminder that you’re still alive.

That you’re not some wrath of the Wasteland filled with sand and blood, doing whatever it takes to survive in a place that would rather see you fail.

“I - I’m not sure.”

He snorts but offers no council or reassurances, using his free hand to yank at the back of your head in impatience. While it might’ve been a fairer fight if you weren’t in such bad shape, there’s no denying that he’s proven himself to be more adept.

Stronger, quicker.

This is going to happen either way.

And that turns you on - even though you feel like it shouldn’t.

If you give in, if he forces you to give in, it’s not really your fault then, is it? You can enjoy it because you have no choice.

Fuck it, you think, closing your eyes and tilting your head to the side in submission.

Like a doll with cut strings, all the fight drains from your body and you’re left sharing space. The ghoul is a furnace of heat behind you, barely any space to breathe he’s crowded so close.

His cock thickens where it digs into the soft fat of your ass, as large and intimidating as the man himself. “Now stay still for me.”

The or else goes unspoken.

Then he’s stepping away, a rush of cold air filling the empty space at your back.

You shiver, tempted to turn around. Maybe make a run for it. The only thing stopping you is the awareness that his threats aren’t so idle. In your experience, it’s far better to befriend the monster than to anger it.

So you comply, waiting an eternity as your senses strain to pick up on anything other than the murmuring hush of rain, the rumble of thunder, as the Radstorm continues to blow its way through.

Though just when you think he might’ve left, ready to chance moving, you hear the clink of a belt buckle clicking open. The scuff of boots across the linoleum before broad hands shove up under your shirt, scarred palms bare as they settle on your hips.

You tense before forcing yourself to relax.

“You ain’t as stupid as I thought,” he says. “Good girl.”

A test.

You breathe a sigh of relief.

“I can listen,” you mumble, keeping calm as his hands explore the plains of your stomach, pluck at the waistband of your panties. “Promise ‘m not gonna do anything else.”

Learned my lesson the first time. Got my skull cracked open for it.

“That’s what I like ta hear.”

Without warning, your panties are being ripped from you, scraps of fabric fluttering useless to the floor. You squawk in indignation but then a heavy hand settles between your shoulder blades.

He presses down, and you follow without complaint, finding yourself bent in half.

And then the fat head of his cock is right there, teasing at your entrance. He plays with your cunt, slipping the shaft between your wet folds. Dragging up the length of you to tap at your swollen clit.

Jerking in his hold, you whine and try to bear down with all your weight. “Please,” you squirm. “Please, c’mon…”

His grip remains firm, bruising as he exhales next to your ear, a pleased little grumble. “Thatta girl. Now tell me, who’s my pretty lil thief?”

Every hard ridge of his body bites into the softness of yours, your stiff nipples dragging against the rough material of your shirt. Zings of pleasure shoot through you; bursting in your bloodstream, fizzy like warm Nuka Cola.

“I-”

“Go on now, Sweetheart: say it.” Fingers dig into your hips so hard your bones ache. “Or I jus' might be tempted ta take a bite outta your pretty lil backside instead.”

He’s bluffing, you think, half delirious, … Right? He wouldn’t--

You swallow, throat clicking, and squirm against him.

Is that a chance you’re willing to take?

No, no it’s not.

“Y-Yours - I’m - I’m your little thief.”

The unexpected flare of satisfaction in his voice is almost your undoing. A hand pets down your flank, swatting the outside of your thigh playfully.

“Good girl.” He demands, “Say it again.”

Sharp hip bones kick forward against your ass as he lines himself up and starts to bully his way inside.

“I’m - YOURS!”

Your soft, gummy walls flutter, squeeze until giving in with a pop under the hard pressure of the fat head. His cock stretches you out, thick and girthy.

Ridges of scar tissue and patches of rough friction pockmark his shaft, massaging tender places as he fills you up, fucking you open.

He feeds you inch after inch… until he can’t.

“Wait!”

Accommodating his girth is a struggle, your cunt filled to the brim by the time he’s halfway inside. No amount of slick could make him fit, so he makes do with harsh little jerks of his hips. Forces himself deeper and deeper until he glides home nice and smooth, sheathing himself to the base with a sigh of satisfaction.

You clamp down hard with a hiccupy whine, walls furtively trying to push him out. “A-Ah!”

“Goddamn,” he huffs, hands kneading your ass, “You’re a tight fit.”

Tears prick your lash line, your hips shifting as you try to stop him from moving. Begging for a moment of reprieve. You’ve never taken something so big and thick, so textured before.

Coupled with the minimal foreplay, it feels like he’s punched his way through your body. Hollowed you out to make a home for himself.

Pussy aching, a low burning tightness creeps over your lower belly as tender flesh pulses uncomfortably around the unforgiving heft of his cock seated deep inside. You swear you feel him poking your belly button.

“Please,” you pant, heat settling into your cheeks. “J-Just wait a sec-ond! I can’t - oh shit.” 

“Aw, look at you.” Fingers reach around to brush over your cheeks, gather the tears that’ve slipped free. “Didn’t mean ta make you cry,” he lies.

The sound of him sucking his fingers clean reaches your ears. Your stomach swoops, and your clit throbs. Dazed as you wonder what his mouth would feel like on your pussy.

"Hah - too much, you're - fuck - you're too big."

He snickers. “Can’t be helped, I guess.” Body rippling in a shrug, his hands re-settling on your hips. “But that’s all right - I like it better when they cry.”

Before you can retort, he pulls his hips back.

Your toes curl in your boots, feet squeaking across the linoleum floor as your sweaty forehead grinds into the cool metal of the wall. The texture of his shaft burns as it slides through your swollen folds, dragging against sensitive spots you didn’t even know existed.

You can’t tell if it’s the best you’ve ever felt or the worst, but you nearly sob all the same, nerves alight with liquid fire. Want him as deep inside as he can go; a frenzy of desperation that needs him to stuff you so full you choke.

“See for all your whining, you’re takin’ me so well. What did I say about bein' honest?”

You sniffle, blurry eyes creaking open to stare out the window.

Your body throbs in time with your pulse, your pussy so stretched out you can’t clench down when he thrusts in deep. The fat mushroom head teases your cervix, a faint whisper, before he’s drawing back again.

“T-Too fast,” you stutter, head rolling back to rest on his shoulder. Your thighs tremble, knees going soft. “Slow down, slow down.”

“Sh, you can take it. I know you can.”

With a grunt, he surges forward. Wasting no time in starting up a brutal pace that rattles your bones. He drives you hard into the side of the diner; tits crushed and face smashed, a disgusting mixture of tears and drool wetting your cheek.

“Just like that, Sweetheart.”

You do little more than hold on, all thoughts driven from your mind as he fucks you swollen and bruised. Cunt a sticky mess as your slick eases the way, clinging to your inner thighs and dripping down his heavy balls.

Every thrust punches little sounds from you, and he grunts. “Fuck!”

Your hands cling to the sides of his hips, focusing on the shift of muscle beneath heavy fabric. “I can’t,” you slur, eyes cloudy as you glance up into his, gazes meeting for the first time. “Please, I - ah!”

His thrusts turn punishing, even more so than they already were, hips meet your ass with enough force to leave bruises. “What did I say about sneakin' a peek?”

While the words sound threatening, his voice is heated and breathy. For all his talk, he doesn’t look away. In fact, his hips slow into languid rolls, grinding close. When your eyes slide from his, he reaches down to pinch your clit between his fingers.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he chides. “You keep those eyes on me.”

Pretty, you think, dazed.

Glinting in the slants of firelight like wet sand or a Nuka Cola bottle in the sun; bourbon warm as they peer at you from beneath a heavy brow bone.

“That’s it, there’s my good girl."

Eyes fluttering when he flexes his hips in reward, the tip massaging along your g-spot, your mouth drops open on a whine.

“O-Oh! Right there, I - fuck, please don’t stop. ‘m so close.” F-Feels s'good.

His bare hand reaches up to curl around your jaw, gnarled fingers pushing their way past the open circle of your swollen lips. They compress your tongue as they gather saliva, stroking along your tastebuds.

Gritty, rough; he tastes of dirt, blood, and gunpowder.

You sneak a kiss to his scarred knuckle when he pulls free.

“Shit, I’ll be damned. You’re just a nasty lil freak, ain't you?”

You moan in response, stretching up on your tip-toes and arching your hips to change the angle. Your palms rest beside your head, docile.

A crazed grin cracks the corners of his lips, his teeth bared like an animal. “I like that,” he husks. “Now be a peach…”

Then those soaked digits are finding their way between your thighs, ghosting over your skin to smear spit onto your abused clit. The tender bud throbs beneath his fingertips, swollen and begging for attention.

He hitches his hips forward to feel you jerk, pulsing beneath his touch as he resumes a fast, jolting pace that has you smacking into the wall.

“And cum for me.”

A deep rumble escapes his throat, the sloppy, wet sounds of him fucking you ringing loud in your ears. Your hips roll, unsure if you want to press forward into the swirl of his fingers or back into the rut of his cock.

Tears stream down your cheeks, your chest heaving with weak sobs.

“Please,” you whine, his shaft pinching your walls uncomfortably. You feel swollen, rubbed raw. “A-Almost there.”

A nip to the ear is all it takes.

“Hhaah, I’m--!”

The liquid heat that’s been pooling low in your belly - building and building - finally bursts in a gush of slick that soaks his hand. Darkens the crotch of his pants as it drips down your thighs to splash against the tile.

You sob, a full body tremor zipping through you like bottled lightening.

In the aftermath, your cunt twitches in time with your heartbeat. Hands numb and head full of cotton as cramps bloom between your hips. Sharp little stabs shoot up behind your navel.

“Shit, I’ve got myself a gusher,” he laughs, a nasty little smirk tugging at his lips. “Look at the mess you made. Now if you ask real sweet-like, maybe I’ll let you clean it up with your tongue.”

You sag, too boneless to be ashamed as electric aftershocks tingle along your nerves. All the while, his pace never falters, quickly fucking you into overstimulation.

Your clit twitches pathetically when the fat head of his cock drags along your g-spot. "No more," you mumble weakly, letting him maneuver your body how he likes. "Please."

“Heh, let’s see if you can do that again.”

You whimper, “Oh, oh, please n-no. I - I can’t. You’ll break me.”

“That’s real cute,” his lips, harsh and rasping, drag over the shell of your ear, “but I wasn’t askin’.”

The grip on your hips tightens to the point of pain, digging in and marking you up.

“Now, why don’ we have some real fun, Darlin'?”

[zombiedeers]

I can't even lie I'm such a big fan of the Anti-Pines family

Not just Anti-Mabel, either, as much as I love that evil little shit, but we have brief descriptions of all 4 of the Anti-Pines twins from the Shmeb-You-Unlocked site!!!! I need to doodle them all at some point

If you don't know uhhh

Anti-Dipper is an "incorrigible flirt"

Anti-Stan is a "charity obsessed hippie"

Anti-Ford is a "wannabe YouTube star/part-time DJ"

Anti-Waddles is "the first pig to ever go to prison for armed robbery"

Anti-Soos is a "Forbes Billionaire"

I don't think I've seen art of any of them besides Anti-Mabel, I should search for some though

[figmentforms]

★ Art Auction for the Palestine Children’s Relief Fund ★

Auction has closed! The winning donation was $1,234!!!! Thank you, Jeff!!!

And thank you so much to everyone that placed bids and got the donation to be this high! You're all very much appreciated! <3

★ Winning Bid: $1,234 * Ended April 15th, 2024 at 8:22 am ★

Auction will go until April 15th, 2024 at 7pm, Eastern Standard Time

The Palestine Children's Relief Fund (PCRF) is a non-political organization established in 1991 by concerned people in the U.S. to address the medical and humanitarian crisis facing Palestinian youth in the Middle East. The main objective of the PCRF is to identify and treat every child in the Middle East in need of specialized surgery not available to them locally. We locate, sponsor and run volunteer medical missions to the Middle East in adult and pediatric cardiac surgery, pediatric cardiology, plastic and reconstructive surgery, maxillofacial surgery, pediatric urology, ophthalmology, vascular surgery, pediatric orthopedic surgery, occupational therapy, and other specialties. They also have a fantastic 4-star rating on Charity Navigator ( https://www.pcrf.net/ )

★ Details About the Set of Paintings:

• Painted with acrylic on stretched canvas over wood triangle frames.

• Each of the three canvasses are 26 cm tall, 30 cm wide, 3.5 cm thick. (10 1/4 inches tall, 12 inches wide, and about 1 1/2 inches thick)

★ How to participate is below:

• To bid: email me at  figmentformsCharityArtAuction@gmail.com and let me know how much you want to bid.

• If the top bidder backs out, the paintings will go to the next highest bidder.

• The highest bid will be kept current at the top of this post (as best as I can keep up. I'm human).

• Bidding ends on April 15th, 2024 at 7pm, Eastern Standard Time.

• If you win, make your donation directly to Palestine Children’s Relief Fund ( https://www.pcrf.net/ ). Then email me a screenshot of your donation confirmation as proof. (feel free to blur out any personal info you would like.)

• Then let me know what address you would like your package shipped to. Free shipping within the United States. If outside that area, let me know and we can figure out something that works for us both.

Best wishes and hopefully this will do some good!

[motorsportbarbie13]

What's A Soulmate? Part 5

In which two stars finally collide.

Warnings: alcohol use? if you squint. angst (bc of course) but fluffy (finally!!) Pairing: Lando X SainzSister!Reader Word Count: 2.6k words

(a/n: i know i said the timeline was going to be different but i couldn't keep you guys apart any longer. so ENJOY ;))

- What's A Soulmate? - Part 1 - What's A Soulmate? - Part 2 - What's A Soulmate? - Part 2.5 - What's a Soulmate? - Part 3 - What's a Soulmate? - Part 4 - Master List

Monaco May 2024

“I think I’m going to ask her out.” Max says, leaning against the bar, a smirk playing at the edges of his mouth. 

Lando slides his gaze away from where you were standing across the ballroom casually chatting with Oscar and Lily, “What are you on about?” 

“Carlos’ sister.” He says, grin growing a bit wider. “We’ve been texting back and forth the last few weeks, she’s gorgeous and funny as fuck. I think I’m going to ask her out.” 

Max knew exactly what he was doing, goading a reaction out of Lando. He wasn’t lying though, you had been texting the Red Bull driver back and forth but it was nothing more than friendly banter, with you usually turning the conversation back to Lando and racing within a few minutes. Max knew what the rest of the paddock knew, even if you two idiots were too blind and too scared to admit what was right in front of your faces. So he was willing to goad Lando into action because he was really tired of watching his friend sulk and pout whenever you came into sight. 

After Miami, you had kept your distance again, too scared to even examine the feelings that dancing with Lando had brought to the surface. You couldn’t even think of how you felt watching him take the checkered flag either, the swell of pride enough to make your heart skitter to a stop. He wasn’t yours to be proud of, you reminded yourself at least three times a day now. You had to keep your distance to keep yourself safe. 

Which is how you find yourself carefully avoiding your best friend during what usually is your favorite race on the calendar: Monaco. Tonight, ahead of media day tomorrow afternoon, the Moto Club de Monaco was hosting a charity gala co-hosted by all ten teams on the grid. All the drivers and most of the staff were there, along with journalists and several a-list celebrities that were in town for the race on Sunday. Lando’s eyes were fastened to the black satin dress that you had chosen tonight though, utterly unable to tear his gaze away from the open backed satin that skimmed your every curve. 

“Like fuck you will.” Lando growled, shooting a glare at Max that was pure violence. 

“What do you mean?” Max’s voice was all feigned innocence, laughter sitting at the edge of his tone. “You two aren’t dating, are you?” 

“We’re just friends.” His tone is miserable thought and Max is loving every bit of this. 

“Friends don’t usually stare at friends like that, mate. But, if you’re not going to make a move, I think I will.” Max goes to push off the bar, fully intent on approaching you but he doesn’t even make it two steps before Lando’s yanking him back by the shoulder. Sure, Max could have resisted and probably would have won had he fought Lando even just a little bit but he knew he had made his point. “Oh, is something wrong?” 

Lando leveled a stare at his friend that had Max biting back a laugh. “Leave her the fuck alone, Verstappen.” 

Something in Lando snapped hearing Max talk about you like that. You’d been texting Max fucking Verstappen for weeks now? One of his biggest rivals on the track? After the mess that had been the club after his Miami win, you’d been cool towards him. He knew why, knew that he had pushed you too far with that almost kiss that he had tried. He still felt stupid, even now three weeks later, that he had tried it when he knew you weren’t there yet. But if you weren’t there with him yet, you sure as fuck weren’t going to be ‘there’ for Max either. 

No, he was done. Done waiting. Done being patient. Done waiting for you to get your head out of the clouds and realize that the two of you were…were what, exactly? Friends? More than friends? Whatever you were, he wasn’t having it anymore and shit needed to change and they were going to change tonight. He’d given you enough time and space but he had seen the way you looked at him in Miami when he had hugged you after the race. He had felt the way your fingers gripped at his as he led you to the dance floor at the club later that night. He had seen the way your breath had caught in your throat when he touched you. Nope, he’d had enough of this pretending. He’d lost you once due to his own stupidity and he wasn’t going to lose you again. 

Without so much as a goodbye to Max, Lando stalks across the crowded ballroom, ignoring several people saying hello to him or trying to strike up a conversation. He was sure Zak would have his head for that later, but right now he had one thing on his mind: you. 

You’re still lost in conversation with Oscar and Lily when he approaches. Your back is turned towards him, all that bare skin serving as a temporary distraction when Lando gets close. But he snaps back to reality quickly, reaching out to take hold of your wrist. Your eyes are wide, almost doe like, when he tugs on your wrist to get you to turn towards him. 

“We need to talk.” His voice is low, with an edge to it that has goosebumps skittering up your bare arms. 

Your brows hit your hairline as you stare back at him, unfamiliar with the angry man standing in front of you. “Hello, Lando, nice to see you too. I’m doing well this evening, thanks for asking. Everything okay?” The calm in your voice does nothing to sooth his angry nerves. Beside you, Oscar and Lily seem to pick up on what’s happening before you do, their smirks mirroring that of Max’s across the room. 

Lando’s shoulders droop at the snap in your tone. “I’m sorry, that was rude of me but we need to talk.” This time, his tone is softer, more placating. 

You turn to Oscar and Lily, who are watching the exchange between you two with bemused expressions. “Would you excuse us?” The couple nods and you turn back to Lando, “Lead the way.” 

Lando takes your hand in his, tangling his fingers with yours in a way that speaks to how he has this primal need to possess you and your attention right now. The firm grip he’s got on your hand sends your heart hammering against your ribcage. At the back of the opulently decorated ballroom, there’s a large balcony overlooking the marina and downtown Monte Carlo. The city is alive for the Grand Prix this weekend, tourists and residents alike spilling into the night. 

Lando leads you over to a quiet corner of the balcony, away from prying eyes and listening ears. The last thing he needed was this conversation to show up on the F1 gossip blogs. It’s cool out now, just cool enough that goosebumps litter your skin when the breeze off the water dances across your bare skin. The scent of the ocean tangles in your hair, sending the smell of your perfume cascading over Lando in a way that mesmerizes him for a brief moment. 

He notices your goosebumps then and before he can get anything else out, he shucks off the black tuxedo jacket and drapes it over your shoulders. You immediately shudder against the warmth of the garment, his body heat radiating out from the warm fabric. “Thank you.” You murmur before going quiet again. 

“Are you texting Max?” 

You tilt your head at Lando, genuinely confused by the question. “What?” 

“Verstappen. Are you texting him?” 

You don’t miss the pain in Lando’s eyes when he asks you the question. “A bit. Is that what this is about? Because McLaren doesn’t have a policy about fraternizing with anyone, McLaren employee or not.” 

Lando nearly groans, this was not going at all how he envisioned it. Not that he had envisioned how he wanted it to go at all. He was kind of flying blind here, all he knew that when Max had said he wanted to ask you out, he had seen red and wanted to get to you before he could. “I know that, I just…fuck. 

You reach out, fingers gripping his elbow, with a genuine look of concern on your face. “Lando, what’s going on?” 

“You’ve barely spoken to me since Miami.” 

You drop his gaze then, unable to look at him any longer. It was true. You were avoiding him because the way you had felt on that dance floor in Miami scared the daylights out of you. “I know.” You whisper, desperately wanting to take a step back. 

“I can’t take you hiding from me anymore.” The pain in his voice sends new waves of guilt coursing through you. 

“I’m scared.” Your voice is so quiet, Lando almost misses what you say but when it registers, a flood of guilt and anguish flow through his blood. “I’m scared to let you get close again because what happens when you start dating another girl and she gets jealous of me and you walk out of my life again? Your absence broke me, Lan. I don’t know if I could do that again.” 

Lando didn’t know if it was possibly to die from a broken heart, but hearing the confession fall from your lips was enough to shatter his heart into a million pieces. He steps forward then, so close you can smell his cologne again and realization rips through you. He’s wearing the cologne you got him back in 2019 for Christmas. Surly, he’d used it all up in those five years since. The familiar scent has your heart aching for a home that you didn’t even know existed. He reaches up, fingers dusting over your cheeks and jawline. He takes it as a win that you don’t step away from him and he nearly cries when your head tilts just the slightest bit into his touch. 

“I will never do that to you again, pretty girl.” He murmurs, enjoying the flush that blooms on your cheeks at the nickname. 

“How can you know that?” 

“Because there has always been three people in any relationship I’ve ever had since I met you. She was threatened by you when she made me choose and she had good reason to be.” 

All the air is stolen from your lungs at his words. “Lando…what?” 

“I convinced myself that I was doing the right thing, not risking our friendship because I couldn’t fathom my world without you in it and then I went and fucked it all up and had to live my nightmare. I can’t do that again, I can’t risk losing you like that a second time. It was hell the first time and I won’t do it again.” 

Lando pauses then, taking another step closer so that your bodies are practically touching. You can feel the heat of his breath fanning across your skin, sending more goosebumps rioting across your skin. The look in his eyes as he takes you in, dragging his gaze from your eyes down to your lips in a slowly sensual move, has something clenching deep in your tummy. 

“Lan…” You start, but he holds up a hand. 

“No, let me finish. I know that if I don’t risk everything tonight by telling you how madly in love with you I am, I’ll spend the rest of my life in hell without you. I am wildly in love with you and have been since the moment I saw you.” 

The weight of his words hang between you, the confession stirring up something inside you that you fight to identify. How many nights had you spent wishing for this moment? Praying that your best friend would confess his love to you? You had a choice to make. The same choice you had in Miami. 

But this time, you make the right choice. 

Before your head has a chance to catch up with your heart, you find yourself leaning in towards Lando. You feel his breath catch in his throat as his fingers dig into the flesh at your waist, anticipation thrumming back and forth between your two bodies. 

The first time your lips touch his it feels like magic. You swear sparks ignite between your mouth and his, so charged is the air between you. Lando freezes for a split second, wholly unprepared for you to kiss him first but that beat of hesitation melts away quickly because the next thing he knows, his fingers are tangling in your hair and he’s hauling you to him. Your lips are as soft and delicious as he’d always imagined they’d be, the sweet taste of the red wine you’d been drinking an intoxicating poison to his soul.

 You’re so undeniably delicious, he can’t help but feast. First your lips, licking into your mouth that sends a purr thrumming from deep in your throat. That throat is his next target, as he drags hot, open mouth kisses across the your jaw down towards the hollow between your collar bones. The gold chain around your neck sends shivers up his spine when his tongue skates over the cold metal. 

“Lan.” You sigh as he laps his tongue over your suddenly heated skin, dragging your long fingernails through his mop of curls. Allowing yourself to indulge in just touching him, you rake your fingers through his hair an down the thick column of his neck, smirking when he shudders under your touch. 

A kiss had never felt so right so quickly in Lando’s entire life. The way you melted into his body, lithe form practically folding into him, set every nerve ending in his body simmering with need. It was like the two of you were made for each other, bodies lining up in sync without even a bit of effort from either of you. Your hands skate up his arms, the fabric of his starched white dress shirt crinkling under your touch while his slip from your hips to just above the rise of your ass, both of you exploring the bodies that had been so close but so out of reach for so long. For Lando, touching you felt strange but familiar at the same time, like having his hands on you was the entire reason he existed. You swear your body sighed the words ‘I’m home’ when Lando kissed you for the first time, suddenly understanding the phrase ‘soulmates’. 

When you pull back, Lando whines, whines at the sudden loss of your touch. His swollen lips turn down in a pout as he frowns down at you. 

“I love you, Lando Norris. Madly. Deeply. Irrevocably head over heels in love with you too.” You whisper, hoping the returned confession clears the storm clouds from his face. You were right because the moment the words leave your lips, Lando scoops you up, spinning you around as a laugh escapes him. 

When he sets you down, you look up at him like he’s hung the moon. And to you, he has. You don’t quite know what snapped in you moments ago but suddenly you realized that you were about to lose the most important person in your life once again and this time, it would be your fault. You both had been so young back then, barely out of your teens, when big decisions with even bigger consequences were made. But life worked in silly ways and it seemed as if the universe had decided your story wasn’t done yet. 

“Take me home?” You murmur in Lando’s ear when he pulls you closer to him once again. 

“Anything for you, pretty girl.” He says, smirk pulling at his lips as he reaches for your hand. 

Story Replies: User938 EXCUSE ME MA'AM YOU CAN'T DROP THIS ON US AND RUN. explain yourself! User9209 mom and dad together fr this time!? CarlosSainz did you two finally get your shit together?! >>>LittlestSainzSis STFU carlos. LandoNorris fuck we look good together baby. >>>LittlestSainzSis <3 pls come back to bed

Tag List:

@anilovessadbooks @shelbyteller @formulaal @martygraciesversion381 @longhairkoo @samantha-chicago @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland @chlmtfilms @inarabee @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @sltwins @linnygirl09 @powerfulmess @technicallypleasanttree @meglouise00 @mixedstyles @strawberryy-kiwii @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies @unknownmystery22 @mrosales16 @charlesgirl16 @leclercdream

(I hand did all the tags this time instead of copying and pasting. fic authors how tf are you organizing your tag list so it works!?!? WAH)

[bananzerssims]

Color Theory Legacy Challenge

Do you like color? Do you like legacy challenges that switch things up each generation? Do you like family cozy gameplay AND spicy dramatic gameplay?

Well, then this is the legacy challenge for you! Inspired by classic legacy challenges like the Not So Berry Challenge by @lilsimsie and @alwaysimming and Such Colorful Lives by @thepanplumbob, this legacy challenge is a ten generation legacy challenge where each generation's goals and personality are based on the color theory of their assigned color!

General Rules: 1. Normal Lifespan recommended 2. Each Heir must represent the color of their generation BUT Berry sims are not required (Though feel free to use them if you want!) 3. Keep money cheats to a minimum! 4. Each heir must complete their required Careers and Aspirations unless specifically stated otherwise 5. Each heir can be any of the previous heir's children, no matter the birth order, unless specifically stated otherwise

Generation One: White - The Beginning White symbolizes innocence, purity, and beginnings... People call you innocent… naive… But that’s not really the case. You know exactly how cruel the world can be so you strive to make it a better place. You pour yourself into your career and your children and your marriage, determined to spend your life helping others and to raise children that help others, too.Your house is always sparklingly clean and there’s always a hot meal on the table and an extra bed (or sleeping bag or couch) for sims who need it.

Traits: Good, Generous, Neat

Aspiration: Friend of the World

Career: Doctor

Other Requirements:

Gain and Maintain a Pristine Reputation 

Master Charisma and Cooking Skills

Reach at least Level Five of the Baking Skill

Have a Good Friends Relationship with all your kids

Donate to charity every week, as much as you can afford

Have an idyllic romance with your partner that inspires your heir

Optional: Master the Parenting Skill

Continued Under the Cut:

Generation Two: Pink - The Romantic Nurturer Pink symbolizes love, compassion, and nurturing. You just love love! Your parents had an idyllic romance that taught you what love was supposed to look like. And you want everyone to have that kind of love! Including yourself! The problem is you just can't seem to decide which sim owns your heart! You have a couple lovers as a teen before finally settling down with your soulmate and raising a family together. 

Traits: Perfectionist, Lovebug, Family Oriented

Aspiration: Paragon Partner (teen), Big Happy Family (adult)

Career: Romantic Consultant (either branch)

Other Requirements:

Master Parenting and Romance Skills

Reach at least Level Five of the Charisma Skill

Spoil your kids rotten (Rarely use the Punish option when correcting them)

Stay Soulmates with your spouse and go on one date a week

Optional: Have a love triangle as a teen

Generation Three: Red - The Passionate Actor Red symbolizes passion. You are a very passionate person, you always have been, but you’ve never cared for being kind. Not like your parent. You’re more of a hot-head, and tell it like it is. This means you make a lot of enemies. Who cares about Enemies when you have lovers? But none of those lovers are good enough for you, so you hop from one to the next, leaving a trail of broken hearts (and maybe one or two affair babies). For all your romantic exploits, your true love is the stage. You want to see your name up in lights!

Traits: Hot-Headed, Mean, Romantic

Aspiration: Villainous Valentine

Career: Actor

Other Requirements:

Master Romance, and Acting Skills

Reach at least Level Five of the Mischief Skill

Have more Enemies than Friends

Have three kids, all with different married sims.

Have a negative relationship with all your kids

Become a 5 Star Celebrity

Optional: Interact with your kids as little as possible, have them raised by a sibling, grandparent, or nanny

Generation Four: Brown - The Steadfast Farmer Brown is the color of strength and reliability. You’ve never gotten on too well with your parents. Neither of them were ever really around, so as the oldest, you sort of ended up as your younger siblings’ default parent. Of course, your grandparents did what they could to help, but they had their own lives. So, when you could, you found solace in animals. Animals aren’t like people, they don’t hurt you on purpose.  When you’re finally old enough, you take your younger siblings and ditch your parents, moving to the countryside to finally have some peace. There, you build up a farm, with livestock and horses, and, of course, a family that actually loves each other.

Traits: Animal Enthusiast, Rancher, Loyal

Aspiration: Country Caretaker

Career: None, make money off your crops, livestock, and nectar

Other Requirements:

MUST be the eldest child of the Red generation

Master Horse Riding, Gardening, and Nectar Making skills

Own at least one pet (horses, dogs, or cats, it's up to you) at any given time

Own A Ranch or Farm with Chickens, Goats or Sheep, and Cows or Llamas

Once you reach Young Adulthood, run away from home with your younger siblings and raise them on your own.

Optional: do a Rags to Riches Challenge with this generation

Generation Five: Orange - The Childish Adventurer Orange symbolizes adventure and youthful passion. Okay, so you’re a bit of an oddball. Who cares? You delight in being unabashedly yourself! Your family was close knit, not just your parents and siblings, but your pets, cousins, and aunts and uncles as well, and they never tried to dull your sparkle. But the countryside, for all of its bucolic beauty, just doesn’t satisfy your love of adventure, so shortly after your adult birthday, you kiss your family goodbye and set off to see the world.

Traits: Adventurous, Cringe, Childish

Aspiration: Extreme Sports Enthusiast

Career: Athlete

Other Requirements:

Master Fitness and Rock Climbing Skills

Reach at least Level Five of the Skiing or Snowboarding skills

Live in three different worlds (not including the one you were raised)

Marry an Active Sim

Go on vacation to each of the vacation worlds at least once

Optional: Gain the Adrenaline Seeker lifestyle

Generation Six: Yellow - The Paranoid Techie Yellow symbolizes cheerfulness and happiness, but also cowardice or fear. You’ve always been a little… cautious. You’re not adventurous like your parent, choosing instead to be a homebody. Social stuff and trying new things are just a bit too daunting for you. So, you find your outlets in tech and video games instead. The people in those circles don’t seem to care as much about your awkwardness.  And there, among zeros and ones and other geeks, you finally blossom, transforming into a sunny, bright person. You’ll never be especially social, but your small circle is enough for you.

Traits: Paranoid, Socially Awkward, Cheerful

Aspiration: Computer Whiz

Career: Tech Guru

Other Requirements:

Master Programming and Video Gaming Skills

Reach at least Level Five of the Handiness Skill

Have a club of fellow geeky friends who you get together and game with regularly

Move to San Myshuno and spend your whole life there

Have only two children

Optional: Gain the Techie lifestyle or the Geek trait

Generation Seven: Green - The Eco-Conscious Hippie Green symbolizes nature and vitality but also jealousy. You never quite fit in with your family members. While your parents and sibling all had a similar passion for technology, yours is a bit more nature focused. In fact, you're a bit of a hippie. There's no shame in that!  As soon as you're old enough, you leave the smog and traffic of the city behind and move to Evergreen Harbor, hoping to live a greener life, only to come face to face with a community in sore need of a clean up.  You've never been one to back down from a challenge so you roll up your sleeves and get to work. Unfortunately, you spend so much time on your projects that you don't have time for love… until one day you notice everyone else seems to have gotten married and had kids, leaving you behind! Will you ever find the love you desire before it's too late?

Traits: Recycle Disciple, Freegan, Jealous.

Aspiration: Master Maker

Career: Freelance Crafter

Other Requirements:

Master Fabricating and Wellness skills

Reach at least Level Five of the Herbalism skill

Clean Up Evergreen Harbor

Live an Eco-Conscious life (Off The Grid lot, tiny home if possible)

Stay single until you are an Adult

Have only one child

Optional: Marry a sim in the Eco Innovator Career

Generation Eight: Blue - The Ocean-Loving Artist Blue symbolizes inspiration and creativity. You’ve always been a bit of a gloomy sim. Maybe that’s because Evergreen Harbor doesn’t have much scope for the imagination. It’s nice that the town is all cleaned up thanks to your parent, but you often find yourself at the docks, staring at the sea. Here, it’s gray and green and not much else. While you find the colors you love in the gems you collect and shape, you find yourself wishing you could see those colors in your beloved ocean. So, as soon as you’re able, you make your way to Sulani. But once there, you discover that the islands are in a sorry state. You’ve learned a thing or two about helping the environment from your parents, so you roll up your sleeves and get to work.

Traits: Creative, Gloomy, Child of the Ocean

Aspiration: Painter Extraordinaire

Career: Conservationist

Other Requirements:

Clean Up Mua Pel’am

Master Painting and Gemology skills

Reach at least Level Five of the Fishing skill

Live In Sulani and Marry a Native

Live on the Beach

Optional: Finish the Sea Shell Collection, become a Mermaid

Generation Nine: Purple - The Self-Absorbed Scientist Purple symbolizes luxury and ambition. You’ve never loved the podunk environment of the Islands. You want more, something grander, something befitting your genius. Something that makes you known. And what better way to do that than making the lives of sims better with your inventions? You wouldn’t call yourself a mad scientist, in fact, you’re very sane. It’s not your fault people don’t appreciate your genius!

Traits: Genius, Self Absorbed, Ambitious

Career: Scientist

Aspiration: Mansion Baron

Other Requirements:

Master Logic and Robotics Skills

Reach at least Level Five of the Rocket Science skill

Max Scientist Career

Marry an Evil Sim 

Optional: Have an Alien Baby (doesn’t have to be the heir)

Generation Ten: Black - The Ending Black symbolizes death, darkness, and mystery. People assume that when you dress in all black and talk about death that you’re a bad person. And they would be right. About you, at least. Maybe that comes from having Evil Scientists as parents. Who knows. Whatever it is, you’ve always had a fascination with whatever comes after life. And you’ve always felt Death hovering at your side but maybe he’s not the enemy you thought he was…

Traits: Macabre, Evil, Chased By Death

Aspiration: Ghost Historian

Career: Reaper

Other Requirements:

Master Thanatology, Medium, and Writing Skills

Live in a Haunted House for Seven Days

Write Horror Novels in your free time

Have a baby with GrimDie Young and Become an Evil Ghost

Optional: finish the Tarot Card Collection

I hope you all enjoy playing this challenge! Feel free to tag me if you do and please have fun!

XOXO, Bananzer

[youremyheaven]

Random Mini Astrology Observations: Vedic Edition

Warning: This is just a string of random thoughts lol, don't compare it to my best work on here. It's a bunch of stuff I've had in my drafts and I'm trying to clear it all out

Before I get into this, I just want to say, that whether my observations are positive or negative, it won't apply to every individual who has these placements. 8 billion people exist on this planet, and not everyone will exhibit the same good or bad qualities. I hate having to put this PSA because some people don't get it but yeah "not all Lunars/Venusians/Nodals/Solars/Jup/Sat are going to be the same".

Jupiter influenced men are known for being introverted cutie pies who kinda have that mature-dilf-y vibe.

Obviously, another category of Jupiter men are often loud, extroverted and very outgoing but I've noticed these placements heavilyyyy in celebrities "known" for being private and introverted. They are also often known for being generous and kind hearted.

Prabhas, Vishaka Stellium (Moon, Mercury and Venus)

He is known as "darling star" and brings food that he has prepared at home for everyone on set (he is an actor). He is known for being very shy and introverted but also super sweet, generous and kind.

Sidharth Malhotra, Vishaka Moon

Sid is known for being extremely lowkey which is RARE for a Bollywood actor. He's also quite gentlemanly and charitable

Ratan Tata, Vishaka Moon

He is an Indian billionaire entrepreneur who lives in a small 2bhk apartment and has donated most of his personal wealth to charity. He is known for having led his company in a very humane way (there are lots of controversies and im aware of them but compared to the work culture and quality of life that most other indian companies offer its employees, TATA is in a different league).

Keanu Reeves, Punarvasu Moon (and stellium)

i dont have to explain but Keanu is the king of kindness and generosity

Mads Mikkelsen, Vishaka Moon

unlike his characters, Mads is actually a sweet guy and very private

Adam Driver- Vishaka Sun

he's so private that nobody even knows he's married with a kid

Tom Hanks, Punarvasu Sun

known for being a gentleman and quite modest. the OG nice guy and obviously very private

Ethan Hawke, Vishaka Sun

another lowkey, private guy who is known for being nice

2. Rashmika Mandanna and Surbhi Jyoti, Swati Moon

I find their eye area to be kinda similar?? I know they don't look alike but there are some overarching similarities between them and I think its bc they have the same moon nak.

3. I came across a comment that Akshay Kumar made about Asin and her CEO husband Rahul Sharma.

“He is madly in love with his wife, his child. It’s like he treats her like a goddess.

and guess what?? Rahul is a Purvashadha Sun 🥺😌😌

4. Ashwini natives often have post-apocalyptic dreams

Since its the first nak and is ruled by Ketu and is in complete darkness, symbolically representing the stage before creation (which happens in Bharani), the subconscious mind is susceptible to having really strange, fcked up, war-like dreams/visions. Also bc Aries rashi is ruled by Mars, God of War.

5. every Venusian man I know kinda has a voice kink

6. Many Punarvasus crave for a simple, rustic, relaxed type of life. In fact many famous Punarvasus live on a farm

Kaley Cuoco- Punarvasu Moon

Bretman Rock - Punarvasu Sun

MS Dhoni- Punarvasu Sun

Dennis Quaid, Punarvasu Moon on his ranch

7. Jupiter and Venus are 'Brahmins' or priestly, the Sun and Mars are 'Kshatriyas' or warriors, the Moon is 'Vaishya', or a trader, Mercury is a 'Vaisya', Saturn 'Shudra', or a lower caste and Rahu and Ketu are outcastes.

This is not an observation but just an astrological fact that I thought I'd mention

8. Magha girls are often the spoilt daughters or come from very bougie families where they're the princesses. They might emotionally suffer but materially and otherwise, they're very comfortable

Shruti Hassan- Magha Moon

she has spoken about how rough her childhood was bc of her parents' tumultuous marriage and subsequent divorce but that doesn't change the fact that she's the daughter of Kamal Hassan, one of the biggest stars in the history of Indian cinema

Kiara Advani- Magha Moon

Kiara is from a very wealthy and illustrious family, and she grew up as a much loved, spoilt ish daughter<3

Wonyoung- Magha Sun

Wonyoung is from a filthy rich family and she has said that she grew up very pampered. And that she didn't have an allowance bc whatever she asked for she got. However she became a trainee at 12yrs of age and that journey could not have been easy. Despite being born rich, she's had to go through a lot in life to be where she is today

Aditi Rao Hydari- Magha Moon

she's of actual royal lineage so she's a real life princess but her parents divorced when she was a kid and she grew up with a single mom in delhi and not in a palace

9. DMX- Mula Sun (dog yoni) was obsessed with dogs

The late rapper DMX's relationship with dogs, which seems almost mythical. He was born in 1970 - the year of the Metal Dog, and in his teens he ran away from his abusive household and befriended stray dogs while vulnerable on the streets. He began to gather dogs for protection, intimidation and family, and was sent to prison for stealing a dog (a neglected dog chained up in a scrapyard). In prison, he wrote a lot of his early songs, in which he came up with his "dog" mythology, in which he imagines himself as a monstrous dog-themed gangster who barks and howls. He had a huge tattoo of his favourite dog Boomer on his back. In 2008, his 12 dogs were taken from him by cops after there were reports of animal cruelty - DMX had paid a negligent caretaker to look after the dogs while he was on tour. (The dogs lived out the rest of their lives as therapy animals in a women's prison)

I think its interesting how our yoni animal influences our life

10. As Vighati graha, male planets are: Sun, Mars, Jupiter, Rahu; female planets are: Moon, Venus, Ketu whilst two eunuch planets are Mercury and Saturn. All the standard rules for determination of the sex of the child are applicable, female signs are: Taurus, Gemini, Virgo, Scorpio, Capricorn and Aquarius; male signs are: Aries, Cancer, Leo, Libra, Sagittarius and Pisces. Exalted planets indicate male issue and debilitated planets indicate female.

11. Mercurial men and Jupiter men are soooo flamboyant, sassy and gender non-conforming

RuPaul- Vishaka Sun & Moon

Elton John- Jyeshta Rising

Jeff Goldblum- Jyeshta Moon

Prince- Vishaka Rising

Jimi Hendrix- Mars in Vishaka atmakaraka

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Not A Verstappen: Gridlocked {4}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: A single photo puts half of the truth out into the world. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, fingering, swearing WC: 2.3k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three || Four || Five

Round Nineteen - Mexico 2022 You woke to a delicious smell and felt the strains of the free practices deep in your bones and every muscle protested the movements needed to get out of bed. Giving up, you laid there for a minute more, mentally preparing for the final free practice and qualifying race, before tossing the blankets back. 

You probably looked like a zombie the way you stumbled your way bleary eyed through the hotel suite to find Charles cooking breakfast. 

“Good morning, baby.” Lando grabbed you by the hips and pulled you into his lap while he waited patiently at the table.

“Just morning,” you grumbled with a yawn. “Nothing is good before noon.”

“I can think of one thing,” he teased as his fingertips traced the curve of your leg.

“Feeling a little tender, chérie?” Charles asked with a kiss to your forehead as he placed two plates on the table. “We can give you a massage after breakfast. Bon appétit.”

“Okay, maybe there’s a few good things in the morning,” you conceded before opening your mouth for the forkful of food Lando offered. “Are we still on for dinner tonight?”

“Sorry, love, Zak’s invited me and Danny to a charity event,” Lando apologised with a pout. “I’m sure Charles can take care of you all on his lonesome.”

“Of course,” Charles said with a soft smile, “but I’d rather you be with us.”

You shifted on his lap to face him and kissed your way along his jaw to his lips. “Me too.”

“Me three,” he murmured when you pulled back to finish eating.

As promised, after breakfast you found yourself lying face down on the bed with massage oil drizzled over your skin. Heavenly moans filled the pillow your face was buried in as the two of them found every knot in your muscles and eased them away with their strong hands. 

“I hope you don’t make sounds like that for Kristian,” Lando teased. He had given up helping Charles working his way along your body and instead parted your legs to focus his touch on one particular place. 

“Can’t say he’s ever fingered me,” you said before laughing at the soft spank he responded with. “Yet.” Heat burned across your ass at the smack he dealt and your yelp turned to a moan as he soothed the sensitive skin with his palm before kissing it softly. 

“I think our Lando is a little possessive of you, chérie.”

You squirmed on the mattress as his fingers worked their way back into you to find your cunt soaked for him. “I like it.”

“I’m not possessive, I just don’t want to share with you anyone else.”

You lifted your head from the pillow and found Charles’ lips pressed lightly as he tried not to laugh but the amusement was thick in his voice, “That’s what possessive means, mon cher.”

You felt sorry for Charles as he was given a three-place grid penalty for something that wasn’t entirely his own fault. It was easy for the stewards to say he could have used his wing mirrors to see George coming up behind him on his flying lap but the window of view was so small that the stars had to align to actually see anything and react in time. 

His engineer should have warned him.

The urge to go to Ferrari and find him almost won but Max called out before you could leave the garage. “Do you have plans for dinner tonight?”

“Uh, yeah, I do,” you said as you scratched the nape of your neck nervously, something that didn’t go unnoticed.

“Is it a date?” You hated how intense his scrutiny was and his eyes narrowed the longer the question went unanswered. 

“Does it matter?”

“You’re dodging the question, zusje.” Max crossed his arms and looked over your shoulder. “Who is he?”

“Who’s who?” Your mood turned sour as you heard Jos’ voice behind you. “Are you coming to dinner?”

Max shook his head. “She’s going on a date.”

“And even if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t choose to spend my evening with you,” you said as you turned to face your father. 

“You have a boyfriend?” Jos asked with a tick in his jaw. “Why is this the first I’m hearing about it?”

“Let’s list off the reasons. 1) it’s none of your fucking business, 2) it’s none of your fucking business, 3) it’s none of your-”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Max growled as he dropped his arm over your shoulder and turned you away. “We’ll talk about this later, go calm down somewhere.”

You stormed out of the garage without a goodbye and straight into Ferrari’s next door, ignoring the looks they gave you as you climbed the stairs to where the driver’s rooms were. 

Carlos had just opened his door as you were passing it and he looked a little dishevelled and disappointed as he sighed to himself, and you could only imagine how much worse Charles was feeling. “Tough quali for you guys,” you said as you caught his attention and accepted the hug he offered. “How’s he doing?”

“Pissed off. Xavi is probably hiding in a hole somewhere by now. I would if I were him,” he huffed a humourless laugh. “It’s good that you're going out to dinner, I don’t think he would leave his room otherwise.”

“That’s what friends are for.” You gave Carlos a little wave as he went on his way before you knocked on Charles' door. “Hey, it’s me.”

The door opened before you had even finished speaking and you slipped inside quietly as you saw the sullen look on his face. Needing to comfort him, you caught the door with your shoe and kicked it shut so you could cup his face in your hands and pull him into a kiss. 

“I forgo-” You froze against Charles as the door swung open and Carlos filled the doorway, his jaw slack as he stared wide-eyed. “What the fuck, mate,” he hissed quietly as he stepped inside and closed the door shut. “You know Max is going to kill you, right?”

“I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration,” Charles muttered as he stepped back and took your hand instead. “What did you forget?”

“Huh? Shit, I forgot.” Carlos frowned and looked back at the door. “So…Just friends, ay?”

“Not just friends,” you chuckled, squeezing Charles’ hand. “But not ready to go public just yet.”

“Because of Max?”

“Because of Lando,” Charles admitted. 

“Ohhhh, because he’s been in love with her forever and you got the girl,” Carlos nodded to himself as he spoke only to stop when you laughed. 

“Because we are dating Lando too, and it will be a PR nightmare to explain.” You laughed as Carlos’ mouth dropped open and he pointed between the two of you. “Me, Charles and Lando, yes.”

“Woooow,” he laughed as he recovered and shook his head once more. “Max is 100% going to kill the both of you. Nice knowing you, mi amigo.”

“Thanks for your support, mate,” Charles drawled sarcastically and reached for his keys. “Let’s go, amour.”

“Can I just ask…” Carlos leaned back against the door so Charles couldn’t reach the handle. Crossing his arms, Charles rolled his eyes and waited impatiently for the question. “Does she top you like in the driver standings?”

“First Pierre, now you, putain de merde,” Charles sighed and pushed Carlos out of the way as he laughed. 

But then the laughter dried up and he turned to you offended at the news. “Pierre knew before me?”

“Since Suzuka,” Charles said with a smirk knowing it would irk him more.

Carlos reeled back and his eyes widened. “What the fuck, and that pendejo didn’t tell me. How long have you been together?”

“Just before Monza.”

“Before Mon…Monza! Ay!” Carlos dragged a hand down his face. “I thought we were friends, and Lando too? That guy has never kept a secret in his life.”

You looked at Charles with a giggle. “So dramatic, is he always like this?”

“Mhmm, try being teammates with him,” Charles replied with a roll of his eyes. “He just needs time to process, and I want to get out of this place before I cross paths with Xavi.”

“Kristian would have a coronary if he saw this. I’m so full but it’s too good to waste.” The Italian restaurant Charles had found in the centre of Mexico City was beautiful but the menu was definitely not suited to your pre-race diet. “Is this your plan to slow me down tomorrow?”

Charles stroked your hand beneath the table. He had managed to get the reservation for a secluded corner booth hidden behind a thin thatch privacy wall, but you still tried to remember to be careful. “Nothing can slow you down, amour.”

“Not even the metaphorical baggage I carry around?” 

“What?” Charles choked on a laugh and had to take a drink of water to stop coughing.

“Something Lando said a while ago.” You chuckled at the memory as you twirled more creamy fettuccine around your fork. “Apparently I have daddy issues, along with his temper.”

“You’re nothing like Jos.” Charles shook his head adamantly. “Back in karting my family would come and cheer me on and I remember when Max came anything less than first place, Jos wouldn’t even clap for him. He didn’t want anything to do with him unless he was on the top of the podiums.”

“I know what an asshole my father is, you don’t need to convince me,” you muttered quietly, feeling sorry for Max’s upbringing that was vastly different to yours.

“I’ve watched you cheer for Max from the pits when you’ve had to retire early. I’ve seen how concerned you get when he’s in a crash,” he said, bringing your attention back to the present. “You’re nothing like Jos.”

Unable to articulate how grateful you were to hear those words, you instead chose an action. Charles froze with surprise for a moment when you kissed him before instinct took over and his fingers curled around your nape to deepen it further. The white wine that had been paired with the pasta was warming your body but not as much as Charles’ hand was as it crept up beneath your dress.

A throat cleared beside the table and Charles pulled back with a sigh as a waiter stood awkwardly holding a dessert menu. 

“No, we’ll take the bill, thank you,” Charles said before the young man could offer the specials. 

“You seem to be in a rush to leave all of a sudden,” you teased in his ear as the waiter left with Charles’ credit card. 

You watched his teeth bite his bottom lip before his eyes trailed down your body. “I want dessert, amour, just nothing they can offer.”

The car ride back to the hotel was tantalisingly slow and it felt like the air conditioner was set on high with the heated looks shared between you. It wasn’t until your phone rang that you were able to tear your eyes away from him and you saw the name on the ID.

“Shh, it’s Max,” you warned before answering the call. “Hey bro, how’d dinner with the donor go?”

“When were you going to tell me you were dating Charles?”  The air in your lungs froze and you knew Charles had heard the exclamation by the tightening of his fists around the steering wheel.

You knew there would be alerts going off on Kristian’s phone as the Aura ring on your finger picked up the sudden spike in your heart rate. “Wh-what makes you think that?” 

“Because you said you were going on a date and now I’m seeing pictures of you and Charles kissing.” 

A tirade of curse words tumbled from your lips, colourful enough to make Charles blush as he indicated to pull into the hotel valet entrance. It wasn’t unusual for any of the drivers to spend time outside of racing together but now the crowd waiting seemed to have a new hunger. 

“Keep driving,” you urged as you saw the cameras flashing. “Go!”

“Pull Charles on the phone,” Max growled. “We need to have words.”

“Fuck off, you’re not my father so don’t act like it.”

“In that case, here.” 

“Don’t you even think about-” you heard the phone exchange hands and hit your head against the window when you heard Jos’ voice.

“What do you think you are playing at? Do you know how this reflects on the family?”

You ended the call and turned the phone off so neither of them could ring back. “The audacity of that man! I’m sorry, Cha, I fucked up.”

“Amour,” Charles said softly as he reached across and took your shaking hand. “It will be alright, we will figure it out together.”

“Shit, Lando!” You rushed to turn your phone back on and saw the missed calls from Max, Jos and even Vicky - which was a low blow since you would have answered your little sister’s call if you had seen it. “He’s not answering.”

“He is probably still at the charity dinner,” Charles reasoned as he stroked his thumb over your hand gently. “We can’t just drive around all night, we will have to go back to the hotel at some point.”

“I know…this just changes, well, everything.”

A smile tipped up Charles’ lips as he reached a stop light and looked across to you. “It doesn’t change one thing; I love you.”

Click here for part five.

[luvvictoria]

Not the time to think about it

( ♡ ) pairing : Basketball player! Ryomen Sukunax fem!reader

( ♡ ) warning : f!reader, NOT PROOF READ , kinda cringe, smoking, 4 years age gap, kinda sad , idk bro

( ♡ ) a/n ✏️ : HELP I LOVE BASKETBALL AU SUKUNA 💔

The Beginning of the End

Sukuna Ryomen had always been the center of attention. At 22, he was already a rising star in professional basketball. His towering frame, undeniable skill, and bad-boy charm made him irresistible to fans and especially women. With his broad shoulders, chiseled jawline, and eyes that always seemed to carry a hint of danger, Sukuna had left behind a trail of broken hearts. To him, relationships were fleeting; love, a momentary distraction. He had never met anyone who could hold his interest for more than a night, let alone a lifetime.

Enter [name].

You were 18, and unlike anyone Sukuna had ever encountered. You were a quiet, studious girl, majoring in pharmaceutical health at the university. Your figure caught the eye of many, but it was your gentle nature that made you stand out. With [color] eyes that always seemed to radiate kindness, you were the opposite of the women who usually crowded Sukuna’s life.

You met by chance at a university charity event where Sukuna had been invited as a guest. You were there volunteering, organizing medical booths and speaking about health awareness. Sukuna, uninterested in the event itself, was walking aimlessly when his eyes landed on you. You stood out in the sea of faces, your simple beauty, combined with an aura of genuine warmth, drawing him in.

He approached you with his usual swagger, expecting to win you over with little effort.

“Do you follow basketball?” he asked, flashing his signature smirk.

You looked up at him, blinking in confusion. “Not really. I’m more into medicine.”

Your response took him by surprise. You didn’t fawn over him like most girls did, and that piqued his interest.

“I’m Sukuna,” he said, as if that name alone would be enough.

You smiled politely “I’m [name] . Nice to meet you.”

A Dangerous Game

From that moment, Sukuna found himself drawn to you. You were kind and unaffected by his fame, which only intrigued him further. He began pursuing you, using every trick in the book—late-night texts, surprise visits to your campus, even bringing you small gifts. At first, you kept your distance, wary of his reputation as a “player.”

But Sukuna was persistent. His charm, coupled with his unexpected vulnerability when he was with you, slowly wore down your walls. You began to see glimpses of a man behind the star athlete—a man who was lonely, who craved more than just the superficial adoration that surrounded him.

As weeks turned into months, you fell for him. You saw beyond his cocky exterior, discovering a man capable of deep passion, but also burdened with emotional scars. Sukuna, in turn, found himself caring for you more than he had ever cared for anyone. You brought a sense of calm to his chaotic life, and he often found himself wondering if maybe, just maybe, you were different.

However, no matter how much he tried to change, the nature of his world—of fleeting encounters and transient affections—kept pulling him back. Sukuna was like a moth drawn to the flame of his old habits, unable to break free entirely.

The Collapse

For you, being with Sukuna was like living in a dream. He was everything you had never expected to fall for—dangerous, exciting, unpredictable. Yet, there was a darkness beneath the surface. You knew he had a history, that he had hurt women before, but you believed that you could be the one to change him.

But old habits die hard.

Sukuna’s world remained one of temptation. After a game one night, Sukuna found himself surrounded by fans, women who threw themselves at him, reminding him of how easy things used to be before you. He didn’t mean to betray you, but one night after an away game, fueled by alcohol and the excitement of a win, Sukuna ended up spending the night with someone else.

It was a mistake, and the guilt hit him hard. He wanted to tell you, but the thought of hurting her tore him apart.

You , however, weren’t naive. You could sense something had changed. Sukuna was distant, more withdrawn, and you knew, deep down, what had happened without needing to hear the words. One night, after days of silence between them, she confronted him.

“Did you… cheat on me?” You asked, your voice trembling but your eyes steady.

Sukuna looked at you, torn between wanting to protect you and the overwhelming guilt. He didn’t say anything, but his silence was answer enough.

And at that exact moment your heart shattered. You had given him everything, hoping against hope that he could be different, that he could change. But now, all those hopes felt like they were crumbling beneath your feet.

The Last Night of Love

That night, you sat together in silence, neither knowing what to say. Sukuna, for the first time in his life, realized he had something to lose. And it terrified him. He reached for you, but you pulled away, tears spilling down your cheeks.

“I can’t do this, Sukuna,” you whispered. “I thought we had something real, but I can’t be with someone who doesn’t respect me.”

Sukuna had no words. For all his bravado and charm, he had never been good with emotions, never learned how to handle love. He had played with fire for so long that he never expected to get burned.

As the night wore on, you both knew it was your last night together. It was a bitter, heartbreaking farewell, filled with regret, longing, and the aching realization that love, no matter how intense, sometimes wasn’t enough to fix everything.

Aftermath

You walked away from Sukuna that night, your heart heavy with sorrow. You knew you had to let go, even though you still loved him. You focused on your studies, diving deeper into your passion for pharmaceutical health, using your pain as fuel to succeed.

Sukuna, on the other hand, was left to reflect on his choices. For the first time, he regretted not just his actions, but the man he had become. The weight of losing you haunted him, your absence leaving a void he couldn’t fill with fame or fleeting affection.

They both moved on, but that night—their last night of love—would always linger in your memories, a reminder of what could have been, and what was lost.

[rmadridcore]

Between Us - Part 1

Pairing: Kylian Mbappé x Reader

Summary: You and Kylian have been inseparable friends for years, but when unspoken feelings bubble to the surface, everything changes.

Word Count: 2.5K

Part 2 Part 3 Epilogue

Masterlist

Author's note: Hi! Omg this feels so surreal. I have been planning to start writing for the longest time and I can't believe I managed to finally get to it. This is my very first fic so I would LOVE to hear all of your opinions, I’m open to your feedback 🩷 Also, english is not my first language but I’ll try my best to make sure there are no errors. There will be more parts to come shortly. I have the second part almost finished and I’m planning for it to be 3 or 4 part series with a possible epilogue. Anyway, have a nice read and please tell me what you guys think! 🫂 P.S my messages are always open if you have any questions or if you would just like to chat 💌

—————————————————————————

“What are these for?” Kylian yells playfully as he roams around your room, inspecting everything with the curiosity of a child. His voice echoes from the bathroom doorway, where you're busy applying the finishing touches to your makeup. Turning around slightly, you see him holding up an eyelash curler, a puzzled look on his face.

“It’s used to curl your eyelashes,” you respond absentmindedly, focused on perfecting your eyeliner. Kylian squints at the strange device, his lips curling into a mischievous grin.

“Looks like a garlic press,” he snorts, placing the curler back down on the cluttered sink, where your makeup is messily scattered.

He’s been wandering aimlessly around the room for what feels like hours, clearly bored and restless as he waits for you to get ready for the charity gala. He’s always waiting, never complaining, even when you take your time. It’s something about Kylian that never fails to surprise you — the effortless patience he has when it comes to you.

You leave the bathroom, stepping into the room where he’s perched on the edge of your bed, fiddling with the fluffy blanket as if it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. He’s dressed to perfection in an all-black designer suit, looking like he stepped straight out of a high-fashion photoshoot. The way the suit hugs his broad shoulders and the glimmer in his eyes when he sees you makes your heart flutter.

“You look stunning,” he says with a proud smile, his voice soft but sure. The blush creeping up your cheeks is impossible to hide, and he notices, grinning even wider.

“We don’t have to stay until the end,” he reassures you as you both settle into the backseat of the sleek black car waiting outside. He knows you too well, senses your discomfort at the idea of a long night surrounded by the elite. “We’ll stay for dinner, make our appearance, and we can leave whenever you want.”

His thoughtfulness touches you deeply. He knows how much you dislike these events — how they’re filled with pretentious people who only show up to flaunt their wealth. But you endure it, for him, and somehow that means more to him than he ever lets on.

You’ve known Kylian forever, since you were six and his mom invited yours to bring you to his seventh birthday party. The memories are blurry, but the birthday card you gave him that day still sits in his drawer. Unbeknownst to you, it’s one of his most cherished possessions.

As Kylian’s fame grew over the years, with him moving to Monaco and becoming a global star, you stayed in touch. He made sure of it. It wasn’t easy, especially as your feelings for him began to deepen, becoming more complicated and overwhelming. Falling in love with your best friend, a best friend who is adored by millions and surrounded by beautiful women, felt like the cruelest twist of fate.

It was a secret you carried alone, a burden that weighed on your heart every time you saw him with someone else. The girls that threw themselves at him didn’t seem to bother him; in fact, he enjoyed the attention. And why wouldn’t he? Kylian was magnetic, and you couldn't blame them for wanting him. What hurt most was knowing you could never compete with that — not when he saw you as just his best friend.

“I’m very glad you could make it. We’re always so happy to see you here,” a man across the dinner table says warmly to Kylian after you both take your seats. Kylian responds politely, his charm ever-present, before the man’s eyes land on you.

“I see you’re here with company. Would you care to introduce your beautiful lady to us?”

Kylian’s arm drapes casually over the back of your chair, his fingers brushing lightly against your shoulder.

“This is Y/N, my best friend. We’ve known each other since we were kids.”

The man chuckles, embarrassed, and offers an awkward apology. Kylian laughs it off, but the words linger in your chest, twisting something deep inside. His best friend. That’s all you’ve ever been, no matter how many times he brings you as his date to these events, holds your hand, or tells you how beautiful you look. Each gesture feels like an evil tease, a reminder of what you want but can never have.

You watch him as he chats with the guests, his side profile as striking as ever. His sharp jawline, the curve of his nose, the way his eyes light up when he’s animated. To the world, he’s handsome, charismatic, sexy. But to you, Kylian is beautiful, in every sense of the word. It’s not just his looks; it’s the kindness in his heart, the way he smiles, the way he makes you feel like you’re the only person in the room.

“Are you comfortable? We can leave whenever you want,” Kylian leans in to whisper, his breath sending shivers down your spine as it brushes against your ear. It’s such a simple question, but the intimacy of the moment makes your pulse race. How you long for him to whisper sweet nothings, to share his thoughts with you and only you.

“No, I’m fine. We can stay a little longer. I heard the dessert’s supposed to be amazing,” you whisper back, earning a soft chuckle from him.

After dessert, most of the guests get up to mingle, dance, or grab drinks. You excuse yourself from the table, telling Kylian you’re headed to the bar for a cocktail. He offers to come with you, but you decline, not wanting to interrupt his conversation.

You order a Mimosa and settle on one of the stools, enjoying a rare moment of solitude when a voice breaks your thoughts.

“Hey,” says a deep voice beside you. You glance over to see a blonde guy, probably in his late twenties, with a genuinely sweet smile.

“I haven’t seen you here before. People who attend these things are usually regulars,” he says with curiosity.

You smile politely, a little taken aback by the sudden conversation. “I’m here with a friend. His foundation is involved.”

You swallow the lump in your throat as you call Kylian your friend. Even though it’s the truth, it feels like a lie.

The blonde introduces himself as Louis, and you exchange small talk. He’s polite and charming, though the jokes he cracks don’t quite make you laugh the way Kylian’s do. You’re pleasantly surprised at how easily the conversation flows, but when he asks if you’d like to dance, you glance at your empty glass and decide it’s time to return to the table.

Back at the table, Kylian is chatting with a seven year old boy, Leo, who you remember from a party at his parents’ house Kylian has brought you to about a month ago. You greet Leo with a huge smile, and the boy rushes over to give you a hug, his small arms wrapping around you tightly. Kylian watches the interaction with a proud grin, his eyes twinkling with affection.

After chatting with Leo about his football obsession, his new kitten called Sushi and his annoying grammar teacher at school, his parents came to say goodbye and head home, as Leo’s bedtime was getting closer.

“How was your cocktail?” Kylian asks once Leo and his parents leave.

“Delicious,” you reply with a grin. “You sure you don’t want anything?”

“Nah. I’m on my best behavior tonight,” he says, leaning his cheek on his hand, his gaze locked on you.

The way he’s looking at you, through his long lashes, eyes full of warmth, almost makes you lose your composure.

The amount of self-control you've developed over the years, thanks to him, is staggering. There have been countless moments when you've had to stop yourself from plastering kisses all over his face, from giving in to the overwhelming desire that courses through you every time you’re near him. It’s beyond your ability to count how many times you've held back.

If only he knew how you dream about the taste of his lips, how you’ve imagined his touch in ways he could never guess. Sometimes, the urge to shout your love for him feels almost unbearable. To tell him, without hesitation, how much he means to you, how deeply you care, how profoundly he has changed your life. You’ve fantasized about spilling everything, about finally unburdening your heart of the love that’s been trapped inside for so long.

Maybe, just maybe, if you told him, you could breathe again. You could sleep peacefully, without the weight of unspoken emotions suffocating you at night. If you could just embrace these forbidden feelings, let them free, maybe you wouldn’t feel so lost, so torn between what you have and what you desperately want.

But no. Kylian has helped you build up an incredible amount of self-control, without even realizing it. He’s made you master the art of restraint, but in doing so, he’s also kept you from building the courage you need to tell him the truth. To risk everything, even if it means losing him forever.

And that’s a risk you’re still too afraid to take.

The night passes, and as guests begin to leave for the after-party, you and Kylian head to the car.

“You can go to the after-party if you want,” you offer sincerely. “I don’t mind going home alone.”

“I’d rather come home with you,” he says, stopping in his tracks to hold the car door open for you.

You hesitate, but his insistence is genuine. No matter how many times you’ve told him it’s fine for him to go out without you, he never does. He always chooses you.

“You know that if you keep asking, it won’t change anything, right?” Kylian grins as he playfully nudges your side. “I’m your permanent plus one for quiet nights at home. Get used to it.” He opens the car door for you with a flourish, always the gentleman. You roll your eyes in mock exasperation, but inside, your heart is doing a victory dance. Another cozy night in with him — it’s everything you secretly want.

The drive back is calm, filled with the comfortable silence that exists between two people who have known each other forever. It’s a silence that speaks louder than words, a silence that tells you neither of you needs to fill the gaps. Kylian’s presence is enough to bring you peace, and you wonder if he feels the same.

Memories flood your mind, like that one time after a particularly tough match. Kylian had come straight to your apartment, his face heavy with disappointment. He didn’t need to say anything; you knew exactly what he needed. He had flopped onto your couch, resting his head in your lap as you softly stroked his hair. For hours, he laid there in silence, listening to the steady rhythm of your breathing. You didn’t offer words of comfort because he didn’t need them, he just needed you.

It’s moments like those that make your heart ache. He needs you, but not in the way you want him to. To him, you’re his safe space, the person who can make the world quiet when it’s too loud. But what if you want more than that? What if you crave the noise, the chaos of love, the passion that makes your heart race?

When you arrive home, you quickly wipe off your makeup, exchanging your dress for a comfortable pair of sweats. Kylian’s already on the couch, lounging in the sweatpants he keeps in your closet for nights like these. He’s scrolling through Netflix, looking for something to watch.

“Who was the guy you were talking to at the bar?” he asks suddenly, not even looking up from the screen as you take a seat next to him.

The question catches you off guard. “What?” You blink at him, surprised. You hadn’t even realized he saw you talking to Louis. He could’ve asked about it a million times already, but why now?

“The guy at the bar,” Kylian shrugs, still trying to make it sound like a casual question, but there’s an edge to his tone.

“Oh, Louis? I just met him tonight,” you reply, playing it off like it’s nothing.

“Seems weird, that’s all,” Kylian mumbles, finally meeting your eyes. His brows are furrowed, and you can’t quite figure out why he’s bothered by this.

“We only talked for like 15 minutes,” you say with a shrug, trying to diffuse the sudden tension.

Kylian says nothing for a moment, just nods and changes the subject, asking if the movie he picked is okay. You agree, and the two of you settle into your usual spot on the couch. About three minutes into the movie, he wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer, and you rest your head against his chest. His scent, fresh and familiar, wraps around you like a warm blanket.

These moments, these “friendly cuddles,” are frequent in your two decade long friendship. But to you, they mean so much more. In these fleeting moments, you let yourself pretend. Pretend that you’re not just his best friend, but something more. Ten out of ten strangers would think you were a couple, relaxing after a long day. And in these moments, you let that fantasy wash over you.

His hand moves absentmindedly, gently stroking your back. His chin rests on the top of your head, as though your bodies were designed to fit together. It feels perfect. But it’s also tragic.

Because Kylian isn’t yours. He never will be. No matter how many times you share these intimate, quiet moments, no matter how much his presence fills the empty spaces in your life, you’re always going to be his best friend. And while he never leaves your thoughts, you wonder if you ever truly cross his mind in the same way.

The movie plays on, but you’re not watching. You’re lost in the sound of his heartbeat, the warmth of his body against yours, and the ache in your chest that never seems to go away.

How many times have you thought about telling him? Telling him how deeply you’ve fallen for him. But the fear is always there, lurking in the back of your mind. The fear that if you tell him, everything will change. The easy laughter, the shared silences, the comforting hugs. All of it could disappear in an instant.

The movie ends, and Kylian stretches, letting out a content sigh. “That was good,” he says, still half-drowsy. “Y/N, you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” you reply with a smile, but inside, you’re screaming.

The guests at the gala had moved on to an after-party, but here you are, curled up on the couch with the one person who unknowingly holds your heart in his hands.

As you walk towards the door to go to bed, you pause, wanting to say something — anything. But the words don’t come.

And so, the night ends like all the others. With him, but not truly yours.

—————————————————————————

[majorlysapphic]

It's brain splurge time once again...! What am I presenting today you may ask?

A glassheart, modern-day celebrity/performer AU!

TW: self-destructive habits.

(This AU is a continuation of my previous big brain splurge post, so I'll be making small references to it at the start, but I'll try my best to write this post in a way so it can be read as a standalone :)) )

Okay, here we go!

So I imagine that Red would have LOVED performing from the earliest moments of her life. Music, dance, acting, modelling; it flows through her veins and has always been her calling. And who can even be shocked by that fact? She's the only child of two of Auradon's most iconic stars in the 80s: her mother being 'The Queen of Hearts', a pop princess with a golden public imagine, and her father being the heart-throb bassist of a punk band ('Uliana's Crew'), James Hook.

It's only natural that the daughter of these two would follow in their footsteps, especially knowing her mother runs one of the most successful music labels in Auradon: 'Wonderland Records'. However, every time Red mentions she wants to start performing, she's told no (and on occasion actively discouraged from following her parents career path). Because 'she needs to prioritise growing up away from flashing cameras' and because 'the life of a performer can be demanding, it's best she focuses on school'. Frustrated, Red does end up getting a normal childhood (barring the pretty strict rules she's living under as even though she hasn't made a name for herself, yet, paparazzi still like to have a field day following her life because of who her parents are), and she's (im)patiently waiting for the day she turns 18 to finally start her career as a performer.

But we all know what Red is like, and when she thinks of an opportunity to get what she wants, she's going to take it. So, she starts anonymously posting her music on social media at the age of 14 under the username 'rebel riot', and she goes viral. People love what she's got, and Red is soaring, because this is proof enough that she can make it. So for the next 4 years, she carries on growing her platform, posting videos (whilst hiding her face with an iconic heart mask and talking with a slightly morphed accent/pitch) and interacting with her growing fanbase. Throughout this entire time, she has always had to reject invitations to perform, but on her 18th birthday she can finally take control. So when she's emailed an invite for 'Rebel Riot' to perform at a charity event, she takes it.

And that's how her official, big debut goes. She's the last to perform from all the artists at the charity concert (which include her own parents, who on occasion take a step out of retirement to perform for charitable causes), and after giving her performance her all, she takes a deep breath: flipping down the hood of her outfit and letting her hair fall down, talking in her normal voice (trying not to note down the shocked looks of Bridget and Hook as they realise who she is) as she properly introduces herself as Red Hearts, whilst theatrically throwing off her mask.

The crowd goes wild. And Red is signed up to a music label that same night, choosing to carry on performing under her stage name.

Now... Onto Chloe's path to stardom!

Chloe grew up not wanting to be in the spot light (to the relief of her mother, a popular 80s riot grrrl, 'Cinderella'). Instead, she dabbled in multiple interests, and whilst she did have fun in her music lessons, she ended up figuring out how much she loved academics. So, she grew up happy and safely tucked away in a countryside estate (meaning she is quite sheltered, but that's something Ella and Charming were willing to deal with so long as she got a normal childhood). Chloe eventually figured out she wanted to become a historian, and started her journey towards that goal - but things didn't quite go to plan. Because the world of academics can be tiring and toxic at times, so once graduating with her diploma at 21, she takes a year out before thinking of applying to masters programs. To deal with her burnout she starts making music.

And she loves it. There's a spark there that wasn't present in childhood, and soon enough Chloe's writing songs and strumming on her guitar. But it's only a small passion so far, so she enters her masters program still set on becoming an academic, but to keep her spirits high she starts posting song covers and some original works on social media.

The next thing she knows she's got a loyal following and finding that maybe, music is something she wants to take more seriously. So she starts playing at a few small indie festivals, and she loves it. So in spite of her parents worried protests, Chloe drops out of her masters program and signs up to a music label, and she finds a gradually growing success over the next few years.

Now, a key plot point: Chloe and Red are signed up to the same music label ('Atlantis City Music Group' - ACMG for short).

There's excitement surrounding the artists ACMG keep signing on, and whilst there's success with touring each of the artists separately, the label decides they want to do something big to appreciate all their stars. So, they announce a world tour with all their singers/bands participating: going from place to place over 3 months of summer in order to host music festivals.

This is how Chloe and Red will meet... And the meeting doesn't go well.

They've been assigned to share a stage for most of the up and coming festivals, and as ACMG is funding it all, they're in the same accomodation/transport/rehearsal spaces/dining areas/etc.

They're still in the starting leg of the tour, and so as stages and stands are being set up in the opening festival of the tour, Chloe and Red are at their shared stage. Chloe's heading on stage for her rehearsal time, and Red is going off. And it's an understatement to say Red is in a bad mood that day; she's dealing with a few overeager fans/borderline stalkers (which she refuses to tell anyone about because she doesn't want people fussing over her, especially her mother) and her trusted friend and backup musician (Maddox) has his flight delayed, meaning she'll start her first performance of the tour solo.

So when Chloe tries to greet her, she's brushed off passive-aggressively. And, ouch. That stings, because Chloe is a fan of Red's work - and has been following Rebel Riot since her early stages of being an anonymous singer online. But whilst it stings, they're both 23 years old and shouldn't be immature enough to hold petty grudges. Chloe can handle this (she's going to be thinking about that one interaction at 2am for at least a month), and decides to just keep pushing forward. First impressions can be deceiving after all.

But as time passes, travelling occurs, and performances go on. And Chloe gets a second impression of Red. And a third. And a fourth. And a fifth.

She doesn't need to wait to give a sixth chance to know she absolutely despises Red. Because Red is loud, impulsive, ignorant of others time, sarcastic, quick to frustrate, and a flirt.

And Chloe knows for a fact that Red doesn't like her one bit either.

In Red's point of view, Chloe is up tight, has an annoying need to placate others, sugar coats things way too much, and is a plain bore.

Because here Red is, forcing herself to stick to the trademark personality of Rebel Riot for the entire summer, whilst Chloe is getting huffy about when Red decides to extend her performance/rehearsal times by just a little bit so she can be perfect for her fans. She's here to sell a performance (something that will leave viewers reeling. Red's been one of the best in the game for years and she'd soon rather drive into a ditch than have the quality of her work decline) and live life to the wildest, and Red will be damned if she'll let some random girls judgement get in her way.

So, they carry on travelling and performing at festivals. They give off snippy remarks to each other, and try to one up each other in performance quality. Red will roll her eyes when Chloe comments about being tired at the end of the day (they all are, it's what they signed up for.), and Chloe will scoff whenever she hears about another person Red's left lovesick and 'heart broken'.

People stay clear of the bickering between the two. Because they have better things to do with their life. And also because there's a growing tension that everyone can feel building up (though Red and Chloe remain ignorant to it) and they don't want to be caught in the cross-fire.

...Then eventually, the worst happens: Red and Chloe are alone together.

It's a small, private jet with just the two of them as they travel to the European leg of the summer tour. There's stony silence. There's poorly hidden glances. There's teasing once said glances are called out. Then there's arguing.

They're in each others face, and it's like electricity is running through their veins with each spiteful word tumbling out. Red can feel Chloe's breath tickle her cheek with how close they are. Chloe's eyes are darting down to Red's lips (a habit she picked up weeks ago). And next thing you know both are silently praying that the flight deck is sound-proofed as they meet in the middle for a bruising kiss.

Once the flight lands, they're both just about presentable for cameras, murmuring excuses to go their separate ways as soon as possible.

They were a one time thing, a moment of weakness. They'll be able to go the next 2 months being perfectly professional. They don't care about what the other does. They don't think about each other at all.

All of the above doesn't hold true. Not in the slightest.

Soon enough, Chloe and Red find out the best way to maintain peace in their workplace and stop being a headache is to just carry on leaving each other breathless - It's a burning summer fling. Something superficial. Where Chloe has to painstakingly shrug on a denim jacket in the July heat to cover the scratch marks Red left behind on her back. Where Red has to aggressively rub away Chloe's tinted gloss off of her stomach before running onto stage. Where they both pull each other into hidden corners/rooms after getting jealous way too easily.

It's casual fun with a time limit.

But it feels a lot less casual the more things go on. Because when it's just the two of them, Red finally drops her trademark Rebel Riot personality and lets Chloe in to know her properly. And they start getting on (really really well). Red learns of Chloe's love for history and will listen to her rants for hours and hours. Chloe learns of Red's adoration for art, praising her sketchbooks contents.

And of course, when they learn the big things about each other, they're bound to start learning about the little things. Red's mind is a wealth of information about Chloe's little quirks and likes (and vice versa). Without knowing it, they're with each other more often than not on this tour (I'm thinking: late night drives on countryside roads singing along to the radio with the windows rolled down, stealing each others wardrobes, baking together, sneaking around in festivals when they're not on stage, having a constant back and forth dynamic on social media posts).

But the turning point for both of them, the moment when they realised that they were in danger, is when they start writing songs about each other. And, fucking hell. They write a lot of songs. There's piles of papers with lyrics about the other girl, which they keep private. Because in no way would they would ever want to share this.

So they carry on ignoring what is obviously going on. But cracks start showing in their friendship.

The jealousy gets worse (especially on Red's side, knowing Chloe tends to be oblivious of how charming she actually is). The need to be around each other is ever growing, deeming their clandestine meetings as insufficient to satiate their urge to be in each others presence (meaning they start hanging out publicly).

And then, there's a final thing that starts causing problems: Red's destructive habits. Because after all this time as Rebel Riot, Red is doing her damn best to keep up with the massive reputation she's created whilst she carries on improving her performance/impressing anyone. And this quest of hers is destroying her as she's taking it at a pace that is way too fast/idealistic to be healthy, but she can't help herself. She needs to be the best. She needs to prove to everyone that she's not weak. She needs to put on a front to show her parents that they were wrong for worrying about her starting her stardom young.

And at first it's 'small' things that Red is having issues with - she starts with skipping meals and sleep in order to practice/improve. But then that spirals and spirals.

Chloe doesn't realise Red's destructive habits until she's driving to a rehearsal studio, only to find out that Red had passed out when practicing a new dance formation earlier in the day. So obviously Chloe does the only logical thing: driving like a madwoman back to their hotel after she learns Red's been sent back to rest for the day. Chloe enters Red hotel room with her spare key (which somehow Red had acquired and decided to give to her) to find a startled Red.

Chloe goes on a miniature rant about how she'd like to know if something happened and how Red should really take care of herself. Because if she needs to start bringing Red breakfast everyday she goddamn will, and-

Chloe pauses at the sight of Red: sat on the hotel bed, straight out of a shower with a bathrobe on, a perplexed expression as if she wasn't expecting Chloe to be concerned for her well-being. But the thing that's stolen Chloe's attention? The mottled bruises all over Red's entire body. Bruises that Red had been hiding with mountains of expensive concealer.

After evading Red's typical responses to change the topic, it's revealed how badly Red's been pushing herself to perfect her performances. That her collapsing today was something mild in Red's mind.

With enough gentle questioning, Chloe gets enough of an idea of Red's state of mind and is the one to suggest that Red should pull out of the rest of the tour to take some time to heal/get help.

Red reacts very badly to this. Like very badly.

'Because she's perfectly fine and doesn't need fixing. Chloe just worries too much - and why should she care so much anyway? They're not that type of close to each other, its unnecessary and suffocating. Red's fine with committing to the the demands of being Rebel Riot as that's what makes her interesting enough for people to remain fans.'

Chloe is obviously furious Red is trying to push her away. And she's even more annoyed that Red can't see that she doesn't need to stick to the Rebel Riot persona, because Red Hearts is just as, if not more, likeable. There's no logical reason to why Red can't give up something that's causing her harm (and Chloe feels like she's being punched in the gut seeing the other girl like this).

They argue. And it's not like their previous conflicts. It's vicious and they're both saying things that they don't actually mean in the heat of the moment. And the next thing they know, what they have is over.

An hour after she entered, Chloe storms out of Red's hotel room. Both of the girls experiencing heartache. It's messy, and they're both back to how they were when they first met each other.

In fact, they're worse than they were before. Because, you guessed it! When there's anguish, more songs are being written. And this time, there's no lyrics about falling in love, instead there's quotes of what each other has said to the other, there's double meanings in the lyrics, there's rage.

And neither seem to quit it, because soon enough they decide to start playing some of these unreleased songs at the end of their set. And then there's glares being shot at each other from across the stage. There's arguing. And oh god, history repeats itself, because they're once again back together (in secret, of course). They can't seem to stay away from each other.

This time though, they are swearing to themselves that they're going to stay out of each others business. They'll only think about each other when they're with each other.

(They're the worst liars ever, because those self-imposed rules don't last more than 24 hours).

But still, Chloe and Red are in an odd place. More than friends, and less than partners. Red will have a reminder on her phone to remind Chloe to take her iron pills and she'll buy all of Chloe's expensive hair care to keep round hers. And Chloe will make sure to drag Red out to lunch everyday and will always be around to hold her at night (as Red seems to fall asleep a lot easier and earlier when she's in Chloe's arms).

But they don't talk about the elephant in the room. But it's getting harder for Chloe to ignore as she sees the tell-tale signs of Red withering away as the festival tour goes on.

And out of all the people Red keeps contact with, it's Maddox who has to point out the two of them are practically dating and to sort it out before everyone on set has to deal with another awkward week of them blowing up.

So... They talk. They have to.

And they don't get together.

Because Chloe highlights the fact that she won't be a bystander AND a girlfriend if Red keeps destroying herself. And Red doesn't want to say goodbye to her Rebel Riot persona. She doesn't want to admit it's time to let go and/or make a change.

They make it to the final week of the summer festival tour with ACMG, and they're pretty much acting like kicked puppies around each other. The cherry on top? Both their mothers are here to support them for their final show of the summer, and they can tell something has happened.

And have you ever told your mother about your summer fling/sort-of-nearly girlfriend/one that may have gotten away/the bane of your existence and the reason you get up in the morning? No? Well neither have Red and Chloe before, and they both feel like digging a small grave when they both end up doing so.

Both get information on why their mothers were so against them becoming celebrities when they first started off. And for Red, this incudes Bridget tearfully telling her daughter that she is so much more than what she can give to people. That she should live for herself and for the people she loves that love her back. And whilst she can't dictate what Red does, she really hopes that she won't make the same mistake she did decades ago.

A lot is going on in Red's mind when she goes up to be the closing act for the final show.

She goes through with her set, hears the cheers of her fans. And once playing her final song, she starts making her way off stage only to meet Chloe's eyes. Chloe who had been watching from the VIP section by the stage, in hopes to find some kind of closure or at least say goodbye. And Red knows what she needs to do.

She goes back, calling attention for one last song. The song she covers? One of Chloe's unreleased songs she had shared a few festivals ago. A song that was about the good in life and the joy she's found with Red.

Red's heard it only a handful of times, but she committed it to memory. And after performing the song, she's looking at only Chloe when she makes a large announcement.

She'll be abandoning her act as Rebel Riot for good. That she'll be taking a hiatus to have some time for herself and others that she loves before releasing new music under her own name, not a stage name.

There's mixed reactions in the crowd. But for the first time, Red doesn't care if she's disappointed her fans. Because Chloe is quickly making her way onto the stage, and she practically runs to Red. And before Red can whisper any apologies for the past, Chloe is bringing her into a kiss for all the world to see.

In that moment, they're only caring about each other. In that moment, they know they'll be okay and they're going to be able to work through this together.

[poetessinthepit]

One thing I think that is so insidious about the Pro-Israel narrative is that they don't even want you donating to the Palestinian cause to provide things like food or medical care for children. There is a concerted hasbara campaign to associate any NGO that provides any aid to palestinians with terrorism.

For example, if you attempt to raise money for the Palestinian Children's Relief Fund, a charity rated 4 stars by Charity Navigator, you may be linked to a page on a website called NGO Monitor. At first glance, this appears to be a neutral charity rating website similar to Charity Navigator. It's not.

Try searching any charity with no connection to the Israel-Palestine conflict on NGO Monitor, and you'll get no result.

Do a little digging, and you'll find out that NGO Monitor was founded by Gerald Steinberg, a Likud party member and former Israeli Security Council consultant. It is essentially a right-wing Israeli front posing as a legitimate charity watchdog while spreading misinformation.

Or consider this racist parody song from Israel's version of SNL. It depicts a hjiab donning woman crying and begging for money in front of an image of shelled out buildings presumably in Gaza. It then cuts away to reveal it is all a set, and her crying is acting, alluding to the Pallywood conspiracy theory. This is followed by caricatures of Hamas members swimming in riches in a luxurious hotel room in Qatar chanting "dollar bills, dollar bills" as donations pile up. The implication is clear; if you give money to Palestine, you are giving money to Hamas. The fact that this video is in English tells you who the intended audience is. It was posted on instagram by Noa Tishby, a former Israeli spokesperson.

This all reflects the true cruelty of the Israeli regime. They don't just want to harm the Palestinians; they don't want you to help them.

[sillyfoxlady]

PAC - Pick A Card

What The Stars Want You To Know

Pile 1 Pile 2

Pile 3 Pile 4

Pile 1 - 8 Wands, Knight Cups, 5 Swords

Things are moving quickly for you. The wands are speeding through the air. You are sitting in the knight of cups energy. You are in flow, charismatic, and on top of it. But with the 5 of Swords comes the possibility of conflict and upheaval.

Pile 2 - 10 Wands, Queen Wands, Page Swords

You feel like you are juggling so many responsibilities and burdens but the Queen of wands assures you that you are or will soon be in control. Delegating and inspiring those around you, while with the page of Swords you are prompted to be a student of the mind. Be willing to grow and learn with this process but don't waver or doubt yourself.

Pile 3 - Chariot, 3 Wands, 5 Cups

With the Chariot card we can see that things will be moving quickly forward, in all the ways you were blocked before will now be moving with a clear progression. With the 3 of wands you are looking out at the horizon and considering your next moves. The 5 of cups warns that they may be some spilled milk in this process, don't fret, but look at what you have and will accomplish moving forward.

Pile 4 - 6 Pentacles, Justice, 3 Cups

Charity is arriving with justice on its heels. Help is coming, long overdue justice is being served in your favor, this followed by the three of cups is the promise of love and satisfaction within the home. You will be alright, you are protected and loved, have no fear.

[butchlifeguard]

8 mins in my dad says (cant tell if hes joking) 'trump found guilty on all 34 counts we're all gonna send him 34 dollars' YOU GOTTA THINK HERE DUDE. WE ARE NOT DOING THAT

trying to find out how much wild shit my parents can say now that trump has been found guilty