#and I wanted more people to be aware of it

[batbetbitbotbut]

Low space & low budget weaving

Want to weave but don't have space for a loom? Have a few sticks and yarns but no DIY skills? Come, be tempted anyway. Weaving is a whole family of crafts, some of which don't require a loom at all.

Small-ish looms like box looms (as basic as yarn wrapped around a cardboard grocery tray), inkle looms, and rigid heddle looms exist, but I'm assuming every possible space for a box in your life is already filled. In this post we're going even smaller and cheaper. As far as possible, everything either is flat enough to stow behind/under furniture or rolls up safely into a bundle of just sticks and yarn.

Many of these crafts have some crossover - the same setup can be used for multiple styles of weaving. Most of them can be improvised at home depending on what you have on hand, or if you need to buy something there is not a huge gulf between homemade vs professional equipment. Alas I am not skilled in any of these and my descriptions will not be wholly accurate; corrections and additions welcome! If you need help, I'd only be able to tell you to seek out books and tutorials yourself, ask other weavers, and just try stuff out.

All photos included with permission. My thanks to the people allowing me to use their projects! I saw so many gorgeous and skillful projects when assembling this and I wish I could have included them all.

Fingerweaving

Projects by @kitteniestkitten (here) and @wefty-weaver (here)

Culture - I am aware of this as a Native American technique, I don't know its history with any more specific tribe.

Fabric - "Warp faced" cloth of any width, insofar as warp and weft have meaning for this craft as the weaving is on a diagonal. Often used for sashes or blankets.

Method - There is no loom! A couple sticks hold the yarns to begin with, but then it is all freehand. Starting at one corner, you use your fingers to weave a strand through the other strands, and... that's it. Very simple beginnings work up to very complex patterns that no loom is capable of. The whole project can be rolled up when not active.

Backstrap loom

Projects by @calendae-creations (here) and @weavingforlooms (here)

Culture - I am most aware of this from the Andes but I think it is much more widespread than that.

Fabric - Warp faced or balanced fabric of any width up to your own reach, suitable for blankets and clothes and many other things.

Method - You are the loom! Several horizontal rods hold and manipulate the warp threads but your body provides the tension, with the other end hooked to some furniture or around your own feet. When not in use, you can roll up all the equipment into a small bundle of yarn and rods. You can also use a backstrap loom setup for other methods like tablet weaving.

Warp weighted loom

Projects by @shadowcreepling (here) and @doctormead (here)

Culture - used by ancient Greeks among many many others.

Fabric - any kind of fabric at any size. Shadowcreepling is using a warp weighted loom for a tablet-woven band, Doctormead is probably using heddle rods to make a wider piece of cloth.

Method - the warp threads are held by a bar at the top and tensioned with weights on one end that hang down towards the floor, then the weft is woven into them with any method such as tablets, heddle rods, or by hand (if you have a lot of patience) and beaten into firm fabric at the top or bottom of the loom. Warp weighted looms can be very big, but they are simple and can also be very small and taken apart when not actively weaving.

Tablet weaving / card weaving

Projects by @damage-ko (here) and @foxease (here, hardware from CellesKit on Etsy)

Culture - found as far apart as textiles (geographically and temporally) from Byzantine Egypt and the Vikings

Fabric - a warp faced fabric with patterns made by twining warp threads around each other, usually used for strong narrow bands like collars, belts, and shoelaces.

Method - the cards hold open the shed so you can pass the weft through, then rotate the cards to advance the pattern. Many people make their own with cardboard or playing cards, or you can buy some. The rest of the weaving setup can be improvised with a backstrap (or just a shower curtain hook clipped to your trousers), a cardboard box loom, or warp weights.

Rigid heddle band weaving

Projects by @pisaracraft (here) and @crookedtines (here)

Culture - small rigid heddles like the first project have been found in Roman archaeological sites across Europe. The larger rigid heddle in the second project is being used for "baltic pickup" style designs on the band.

Fabric - can be warp faced or a balanced weave, size limited by the size of your heddle.

Method - you provide tension with any setup you please such as an inkle loom, backstrap, or warp weights. The heddle creates sheds so that you can pass weft yarn through the warp easily. Infinitely many "pick-up patterns" let you weave patterns and even words into the cloth.

Pin loom / potholder loom

Projects by @pardalote (here) and @weavingmyheartout (here)

Fabric - a small square (or rectangle or triangle) of balanced weaving, which can be used alone or patched together into larger fabrics. Pin looms are finer and suitable for many knitting/crochet yarns, potholer looms are chunkier and designed for big elastics, but the method is similar.

Method - wind yarn lengthways around one set of pins and then pull yarn widthways through these strands with a hook. Or, work at 45 degrees in continuous strand weaving! Lots of room to experiment with colour and texture. You can improvise a pin loom by cutting notches in a square of sturdy cardboard.

Needle weaving / stick weaving / peg loom

Projects by @thaylepo (here) and @pastelispunx (here)

Fabric - weft-faced fabric and rugs of any size.

Method - thread long thin warp threads through the pegs, then wind a thick weft (eg heavier yarn, sheep fleece, or long scraps of fabric) around the pegs. Push the weft down along the pegs as they fill up, so that it slides off onto the warp. The pegs can be secured in a base to make a peg loom for large projects, or just handled freely. I believe these evolved as separate crafts and the nuances are different, but the overall method is similar.

Frame loom / tapestry loom

Projects by @squeakygeeky (here) and @battlestar-gasmacktica (here)

Fabric - weft-faced or balanced fabric ideal for wall hangings and upholstery, size limited to the frame being used.

Method - (usually) thinner warp threads are wound round a frame, such as heavy cardboard with notches cut in the end, a picture frame, or a small and flat purpose-made loom. Thicker weft threads are woven in by hand using needles or just small lengths of yarn. Some people make lifelike images, others make more ordinary fabrics or geometric patterns.

Bobbin lace

Projects by @crochetpiece (here) and @noxx-notions (here)

Culture - began in renaissance Italy and spread throughout Europe, often as a cottage industry.

Fabric - balanced fabric usually made of very thin threads in freeform shapes. It's not usually considered "weaving" but the basic cloth stitch is definitely a woven fabric!

Method - each thread is wound onto a bobbin (e.g. a clothespeg) and then bobbins are crossed over each other to weave threads together. The lace is pinned to a cushion to hold everything in place while the design grows.

[its-just-m]

I wanted to post something and seeing this just got me typing so most of this probably won't be related to the above.

As someone that gave up on sexuality as a whole when they were a teenager.

At the time I didn't have much freedom to look into it and anyone I did approach about the subject, regardless of gender, said no.

Trying to figure it out at ~30, as a virgin, sucks.

Not only virgin, never been in a relationship, never been on a date. After the 3rd or 4th person in a row saying the exact same thing "You? Pft, Never" I stopped trying.

Was never that good socially and I often put sentences together incorrectly. The meaning is mostly correct but sometimes the wrong word means the person never talks to me again. Never felt confident, often felt like I was the enemy. My physical appearance does not help matters, people treated me like I was dangerous and I started to believe them. So I stayed away from people whenever I could.

This went downhill quickly.

Edit: It's my eyes that people have issue with. Had them called "crazy eyes", "somehow dead inside and too aware at the same time", told I "see too much", had an army vet I worked with tell me "I feel like you have an incredible capacity for violence but society has told you your whole life it's wrong so you've locked it away and it's killing you". Like, bruh.

I had a bit of a (mid?) life crisis a while back, quit my job, got some piercings, and decided to try being more social and also some dating apps.

With the dating stuff I was so unprepared for a lot of the questions they asked, I spent a couple weeks looking stuff up and playing around with personality/ sexuality/ gender tests trying to find answers.

The answers I got were ...

Neutral.

Like,

Not straight, but not bi or gay either

Not cis, but not trans

Not binary but not NB/fluid

Not ace but not alo

There's one sexuality and gender test that has a square chart where each corner has either cis or gay or what have you.

Dead fucking center, both nothing and everything.

Edit: "contrary" might be a better word than neutral, possessing conflicting trais rather than none at all?

Even my looks are just average, not short but not tall, not thin but not obesse, I'm told I'm not ugly but apparently I'm not beautiful either, not ripped but no limp noodle, no big tits or "nice cock" to show off, but not so lacking as to be pitiful either.

I put finding answers on pause and tried to just answer all the dating questions as best I could and figured as I met people I would learn more about myself.

All I have learned is the only way I'm gonna get someone to talk to me or spend any time with me is by paying them. And my financial situation isn't impressive either.

I'm not bothered by the lack of success, I expected failure (though I had hoped i was wrong). More that I want to know who/what I am and I can't seem to figure it out because I don't have anything someone else wants and I can't afford to persuade them financially.

Looking at any kind of romance/ sexual media just makes me feel jealous and lonely. I can't put myself in any of the situations but somehow I could see myself on both sides and it doesn't seem likely to fufil the craving that I have.

Often times I will look at a person and not feel anything. Or I will acknowledge they are aesthetically pleasing. Sometimes I will feel something but struggle to decipher if it's lust or jealousy.

The only feeling I think I understand is the craving for intimacy. I struggle to explain it but it like all the things couples do but without the sex part, or maybe that part too but I don't understand it enough to know where it fits in.

I just want to learn things about them, to touch them in places that aren't inherently sexual but also need consent for.

And the same the other way around. I want someone to see that I have worth (other than the old man that runs the liquor store who's always high). I want to be comfortable enough around someone that being touched doesn't make me want to go light myself on fire.

Oof

Got thru all that and only that last one got me teared up.

Anyways, I've come across a couple things with older individuals exploring sexuality but it's usually either "I'm a virgin and I just need a dark-daddy to teach me pleasure" or "haven't had much luck with men and this chick is making me feel some type of way and btw I was so repressed lol" or 40yr old virgin type a story. Or yoai.

Mostly not helpful.

Idk, I think I've run out of words for the moment.

Edit: I want to add that I in no way feel entitled to the attention of others or that it's their fault for not wanting to be around me, more that I'm never going to be good enough anyways so why try. But then like, sometimes trying out of spite too.

Don't hesitate to ignore!

-M

characters in their 30's and older exploring their sexuality and discovering themselves beyond their teens and twenties is so important and beautiful and worth telling

[lavenderprose]

Emmrich Volkarin would be such a disruptive presence to the local online dating app pools. An innocuous hookup with a handsome Vincent Price looking older guy. He's unsinister. Clearly takes care of himself. One of his profile pictures is from the day he got his doctorate. He shows up to the agreed-upon location and he's brought flowers. Okay...whatever. Some decent food (UberEats? The Chinese place on the corner? Maybe he cooks?) and some crazy hot sex later and the subject of his very soft hands just so happens to come up. Oh, he says. It's the embalming fluid. EMBALMING FLUID? OKAY. Dude's a mortician. Sure.

He gets up and puts on his clothes. He stares out the window for a few moments. Just long enough to be a little awkward.

"Do you have an uncle who recently passed?" he says. "By the name of Gerard. Gerry?"

WHAT.

"I'm so sorry," he sighs, dragging a hand through his hair. "He wants to tell you that your mother hid something from you underneath the floorboards of the blue bedroom. Does that make sense?"

Unfortunately, yes.

"Right," says Emmrich Volkarin. His hair is still sticking up from being clutched into by ecstatic hands. He is ten minutes post-orgasm and looks so, so annoyed. He only brightens a little when he says, "Thank you for a lovely night. You were wonderful."

Then he leaves in an almost-silent swish of expensive trousers and a plume of even more expensive cologne.

The only further contact from him is a message that says Your uncle spoke to me before we retired to your bedroom. I assure you his spirit was not present or aware of our sexual encounter.

I'm gonna need you to lose my number Emmrich, is the response from most people

There is a sadness about him.

He's sweet, considerate. He can do crazy things with his tongue. He also needs someone who can match his freak on a molecular level.

Understood, he responds.

At some point he pops up on the TV because he's become a regular on a well-loved YouTube channel. One of those phenomenally popular longform documentary-style series about ghosts or true crime. He's apparently the expert medium. The host of the show, some thirty-something named after a chess piece, looks at him like he hung the stars while he monologues about demons who imitate children. Or something.

Good for him.

[naranjapetrificada]

Specifically about the racefakery:

I'm primarily seeing the conversation around All This focus on plagiarism (which makes sense) but I wanted to say some things as one of the handful of Black people I'm aware of that hang out around here:

1. Discord makes my brain itch and I've been afraid to go to OFMD bluesky after how bad OFMD twitter was, so I'm often one of so few Black people on here that you can count us one hand. I wasn't especially close with Atticus but I did like knowing that someone else was gonna be loud about racist Ed takes from a "position of authority" as it were. That knowledge made shit feel a lot less lonely over here and this motherfucker took that from me. That's what I feel betrayed about. That's what pisses me off about the racefaking in particular. Things are now unequivocally going to be harder for me around here than they were before and I hate that he was able to put me in this position.

2. I'm not aware of if he plagiarized any of my fics because they're mostly 100% canon compliant or in one case, too weird to effectively copy, but I'll never know because 100+ middling fics is too many to check through. I'm okay not knowing because the stilted way he wrote about Ed's hair and Ed's race are not things I wish to subject myself to anymore. But for the record, his fics are one of the places where the racefakery shows the most imo because writing makes you tell on yourself in unanticipated ways.

3. Maybe this next point will get me blocked by even more white people in this fandom but here we go anyway. I've struggled to come up with a more diplomatic way of saying "white people are too polite/conflict averse" but like, white people are too polite/conflict averse. This has literally come up in this exact fandom before, around a less fraught issue but still. It had ugly fallout then and it's had ugly fallout now, and while I understand not wanting to come at somebody you perceive as a person of color where everyone could see it, I do wish we had an environment where people who did have suspicions about him could have come forward. The amount of harm he was able to do is directly proportional to the amount of time and space he had to do it, and even before you start talking about the racefaking he was up to shady shit that I certainly had no idea was going on. Which leads to my next point.

4. I can recall a couple times where my race-related spidey senses tingled, but any unease I had was easily lost in the constant din of race-related shit that comes with my existence both in and out of fan spaces. To borrow from scarrletmoon (I miss having you here!) it's like background radiation. Also, there was always the "maybe it's just bad writing" excuse, or the "it's not my place to say but the way he writes about Judaism isn't quite like the way Jews I know talk about it" excuse. There was my (continued) inability to imagine why some white person would bother, because no amount of clout is worth what it's like to be Black on the internet. There was also probably some kind of aversion I had to the idea of losing "one of us" on here, which honestly might be something he was preying on but it's not productive for me to try to get inside the mind of someone who would do what he's done.

And if I was falling into those particular traps (around the racefaking in particular) myself, there's no way the rest of y'all could have known anything was up. Certainly not in isolation. Now I can't help but wonder if being seen interacting with me gave him some kind of legitimacy in any of your eyes, which is lowkey horrifying if true.

Anyway, those are the things I have to say now, after processing for a bit. It's still not worth my sanity to spend more than 30 seconds at a time looking at Discord, where I know a lot of this sort of thing gets discussed, but I can't help but wish I'd known about this sooner.

[writing-for-marvel]

Right Here, Waiting (2)

Roommate!Bucky Barnes x Curvy!Fem!Reader

< < PART 1

Summary: While out with Bucky’s friends for Sam’s birthday, someone makes a rude comment about your body, leading Bucky to prove just how beautiful he thinks you are.

Prompt: “Hey. Pick on someone your own size.” for @avengers-assemble-bingo’s 108th Birthday Celebration

Warnings: strictly 18+ due to the AU, TRIGGER WARNING internal monologue references reader having issues with weight & eating, a man commenting on readers appearance/body in a negative and unprovoked way, VERY insecure reader, slight angst with belief of unrequited love, idiots in love who finally stop being so oblivious!

Word count: 4.3k

A/N: so I was triple dared by @intrepidacious to write more for these two and who am I to break the sacred rules of triple dares? They do deserve their happy ending 🩵 banners by @vase-of-lilies

Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Taglist | Library

You don’t want to be here. Not really.

Even though you’ve got Nat by your side and you’re essentially invisible as a group of Bucky’s mates celebrate his best friend’s birthday, there’s something about being in a new part of town, and with a group of people you don’t know that well, which makes you feel on edge.

But the reason you came tonight is staring at you with warm, sparkling blue eyes, and a smile that calms the raging nerves in your stomach.

“You having a good time?”

“I am now that you’re here.” You say playfully, and you hear Nat scoff lightly from beside you.

He looks heavenly, as if a statue of a Greek god was animated to life, donning a shirt which perfectly matches the colour of his irises, which shows off his bulging biceps, and just enough length to his perfectly styled hair which makes you want to run your fingers through it.

It really should be a crime to walk around looking so good that he draws the stare of every woman within a ten meter radius, head held high like he knows it too.

But while everyone else has their eyes on him, whispering about how gorgeous he is, Bucky’s looking at you, making your stomach somersault. And then the stunning smile he flashes just for you has you melting into a puddle.

Surely there’s no way he can’t see the effect he has on you, how you become a giggling fool in his presence. But that just serves as a reminder that after three months living together and him not making a move, he is very clearly not interested in you like that.

“I shouldn’t have taken so long to come find you then.” You know he’s only joking, but in reality you and Nat have barely had the time to wish Sam a happy birthday and set yourself up at one of the high top tables. Bucky hasn’t exactly wasted any time in coming to talk to you.

“Well it would have been rude of you not to say hello to the birthday boy first.”

“Ahh I see enough of that punk anyway.” He jests, as if he also doesn’t see you every single day at your shared apartment, but you don’t mention that to him.

You notice Nat walking over by to corner of the room in a group with the man of the hour, not even bothering to announce her departure unlike last weekend at your local bar with her attempt to push you and Bucky together.

Somehow being alone with him now, even though it’s a regular occurrence back in your apartment, fills your stomach with churning anxiety. Perhaps it’s the expectation that Nat believes something will happen between the two of you, even though you’re well aware that’s a physical impossibility.

“Thanks for coming tonight, I know you don’t know Sam all that well yet and would probably prefer to be snuggled under a blanket at home reading, but I want you to meet my friends. And I want them to meet the people who are important to me too.”

The implication that you are a prominent person in Bucky’s life gives life to butterflies in your tummy. Even though you’re sure the intention of his words are that you’ve become good friends while living together, it’s ammunition your mind can use to assemble a pipe dream that you serve a much more significant role in your roommate’s life.

“If they’re important to you, then they’re important to me too.” Silly boy doesn’t know you’d do absolutely anything for him, including facing your social anxiety of meeting new people if it means you get to see him happy.

“Well you’re the most important.”

It’s when he says things like this, accompanied with that earnestly affectionate smile, that hope builds brick by brick in your chest - you don’t say that to someone who’s just a friend, right?

But if he somehow did feel that way about you, ignoring all the reasons why someone as attractive and charming as him could do so much better than you, then why had he not made a move?

You come to the same conclusion you always do when Bucky comes out with these overly sweet statements - he’s referring to you as being very good friends. Roommates who would consider each other family.

Regardless, with this small sentence he’s rendered you utterly speechless, your mouth so dry and brings a ferocious heat to your cheeks that you couldn’t contribute to conversation even if you had to.

There’s a silence which passes between you, not awkward like either of you are waiting for the other to come up with some ridiculous small talk, but content, that even in a room packed with people to speak to you’re happy just being in each other's presence, words aren’t needed.

“Oh, how rude of me, you don’t have a drink - you want your usual?” You had never expected him to buy you a drink, but it warms your heart how considerate he is, that he takes the initiative to make it his priority even when it arguably doesn’t affect him.

“Yes please.” You manage to mutter out.

The cheeky wink he shoots you before heading up to the bar only further contributing to you melting into a puddle on the floor. He could do anything and have you in a trance, but when it’s small, doting actions reserved solely for you like this, that have your heart leaping out of your chest.

“So… when’s the wedding?” Nat comments, sidling up to you, however it doesn’t distract you from watching Bucky walk away, admiring his strapping, muscular back and his ass that looks divine.

It’s when you turn to look at your best friend, a brazen sparkle in her eye, do you miss the way Bucky longingly looks back at you from the bar.

That relentless hope you’re continually trying to shake returns, inflating in your chest when she talks in a way that your romance with Bucky is inevitable, when you spend every waking second actively pulling yourself back to reality on earth from dreaming on cloud nine.

“Nat you know he doesn’t like me like that.” You repeat for what feels like the millionth time.

“I beg to differ, you’d been here less than two minutes before he approached you.” The gleam in her eye has become a familiar one, that screams ‘told you so’, as if this was conclusive evidence.

“He knows we don’t know a lot of people here and just wanted to make sure we felt comfortable. That’s what friends do.” At least that’s what you are telling yourself to help suppress any irrational wish your brain could conjure at the reasoning why Bucky sought you out so quickly after your arrival.

“Well he only asked you didn’t he? It was like I was invisible to him.”

“He just knows me better, that's all, we do live together you know.” Is how you justify his behaviour, but you can tell Nat isn’t having a bar of it with the cynical look she shoots at you.

“You keep telling yourself that sweetie. That boy has it bad for you, but you silly kids will work it out eventually.” She says with a certainty that puzzles you, as if there is no question that you and Bucky are destined to end up together. She flashes a quick smile before affectionately patting your hand and making her way up to the bar.

There’s a moment where you’re left alone, pondering Nat’s words and if there is any truth to them - your best friend is honest to a fault, and isn’t the type to blatantly lie to you to spare your feelings. Perhaps there’s something she can see that you can’t, or won’t let yourself notice.

The buoyant hope you always try pushing down floats in your stomach and for once you revel in the small possibility that perhaps you’ve been wrong all along about Bucky. As unlikely as it is, maybe your feelings aren’t completely unrequited.

You feel someone next to you before you hear them speak, a voice that is unfamiliar and which sends a tense vexation shivering down your spine.

“That little redhead friend of yours is gorgeous, think you could introduce me?” It’s not the first time a stranger has approached you interested in Nat. She’s beautiful, slim and wears dresses that flaunt her toned figure, but it nevertheless causes an ache deep in your chest that you're never the person the man approaching you is attracted to.

Just once it would be nice to be the woman they notice, the one lusted after.

“She’s not interested.” You don’t even have to look at the man to know Nat wouldn’t be interested in someone who didn’t have the guts to approach her directly.

You hope that response is enough to send the man on his way, but your experience tells you men with an ego the size of a Mount Everest don’t give up so easily when they have a gorgeous woman in their sights.

“C’mon, don’t be butt hurt that no one’s interested in you. Attractive people deserve other attractive people.”

His words, laced with so much spite, feel like a kick to the teeth. Even though he’s a nobody, someone who will disappear into the masses that make up this enormous city, it’s just another reminder that not a single person in this populous metropolis wants you, in particular the one person who owns your heart and sleeps in the next room.

“You really think that’s gonna make me more likely to help you out?” You turn to finally look at the man, and as attractive as he is, there is a pretentious air to him, a conceited smirk you’d love to smack off his face. It’s a face of a man that has never been told ‘no’ before in his life. “Fuck off.”

“Don’t be a bitter bitch about it.”

Without you realising, Bucky had noticed you looking uncomfortable in conversation with this repulsive man, and stalked across the entire length of the room, forgetting about your drinks at the bar, to come to your aid.

“Hey mate, how about you pick on someone your own size huh?” Bucky looks dauntingly large as he steps up to face the man, at least a head taller than him with broad shoulders that make the other guy look like a lanky schoolboy in comparison.

In contrast to how intimidating Bucky looks, his touch is gentle as he herds you behind him protectively.

“Why? Because the whore is so much bigger than everyone else here.”

His mocking tone cuts through you like a sword, hollowing out your insides. You sense all eyes in the room turn to you, and you shrivel into yourself in juxtaposition to how Bucky shines when the centre of attention.

It feels like the air in the room has been suctioned out, your lungs and throat burning from the absence of oxygen, or maybe it’s just your lack of will to take a breath, wanting the world to engulf you and your existence to end right here.

It’s hard enough to live with the understanding of how much bigger you are than every other person in the room when it is etched into your frontal lobe so that you are reminded of it every passing second, but for someone else to actually express that notion aloud, for all the terrible thoughts you believe about yourself to be confirmed by a stranger who only needs to have seen you once in your life to recognise this about you, is enough for you to start decaying from the inside out.

It’s not just you who thinks that, now every single person in the bar is fully aware of how much physical space you’re taking up, how much weight you carry on your distinctly pudgy stomach, around your jawline which is soft unlike Bucky’s sharp mandible, how your thighs rub together when you walk, not having a gap between them as Nat does.

“What the fuck did you just say?” You barely recognise the voice as Bucky’s, he practically growls at the man, picking him up by the shirt front and slamming him into the wall behind you.

Bucky’s positive he’s never had rage flow through his veins like this before, never genuinely wanted to snap someone’s neck and step over their lifeless body until this very second. Anyone who hurts you deserves an even worse fate than that.

The bastard then has the gall to mumble out ‘it was just a joke’ as he raises his hands in defence, as if he wasn’t the piece of shit to provoke this entire confrontation.

“I dare you to say that again and see where it gets you.” Bucky longs to punch his fist through this man’s nose, the only reason currently stopping him is a potential assault charge, but then he hears you sniffling behind him and he wants to throw caution to the wind.

“Barnes, you need to go after her.” Natasha implores, interrupting the intense staring match between the two men and saving Bucky from spending the night in a jail cell. The mention of you is the only distraction which spares this man’s face from being rearranged.

Bucky practically throws the guy on the ground, searching for you in the sea of patrons staring at the commotion, before chasing after you as if his life depends on it - because it does, you are the reason his heart beats just that little bit quicker every morning at the prospect of seeing you curled up in your armchair, having fallen asleep reading one of your books and him needing to gently wake you from your slumber; you are the reason he stops off at the store on his way home from work and spends half an hour at the grocery store most days, to ensure the pantry is fully stocked with your favourite snacks; you are the reason he has not brought a single woman back to his apartment since moving in, no one on the face of this earth could could make him feel the way you do, turn him on naked in his bed how you do dancing around the kitchen in your pyjamas.

He loves you. And his whole world is crashing down around him knowing you’re in any type of pain.

“Sunrise, please.” You're not sure what he’s pleading for exactly, but he doesn’t ask again once you stop scurrying out of the bar. He reaches for you when the fresh air outside hits your face with a crispness that makes your tears sting more than they had inside, tugging on your shoulder for you to turn around and face him.

The completely shattered way you look back at him, with teary eyes that are usually so full of wonder and vivacity, shreds Bucky’s heart into so many pieces he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to put it back together again.

He’s going to kill that man for making you feel like a fragment of the beautiful person he has come to adore.

Unintelligible words fall from your lips but you don’t have the brain capacity to articulate yourself better when your mind is rerouting all your thoughts to one central nucleus - how disgustingly large you are.

Typically you’d be mortified about Bucky seeing you in such a distressed state, because not only are you huge, you must also look revoltingly unattractive with tears flowing down your cheeks, ruining your makeup, and snot dripping from your nose.

But you know Bucky’s arms, the embrace of the man you love, is also the only cure for the malignant disease which has now infected your mind, so you put up no defence to him pulling you in for a secure, reassuring hug.

Bucky’s chest, smelling strongly of cinnamon, is the safest place you’ve ever known. Even though you’re still consumed by what was said back inside the bar, Bucky holds you so tightly that you have no doubt that he will comfort you through the worst of it without him needing to say so.

It’s a blur of tears, head throbbing, chest aching and Bucky’s soft yet vigilant hands as you make your way home. He leads you into a cab, buckling your seatbelt for you, him taking the middle seat so you can rest your head on his shoulder, his calloused hand resting on your thigh, soothingly rubbing gentle circles with his thumb over your soft skin.

Not a single word is spoken on your journey, comfortable with the solace his presence brings you, and finally feeling secure being miles away from the environment that led you to feeling as giant as an elephant trapped in a zoo enclosure with mice.

Bucky’s fingers interlace with yours as he leads you up to your apartment, the feel of his large hand engulfing yours eases the feeling of taking up too much space in the world. Even though you’re much wider than him in size, there are parts of your tall roommate that somehow miraculously still make you feel smaller than him.

His keys get thrown on the hall table with a clang. The familiar environment brings you peace, even if Bucky holding your hand is a new sensation which has nervousness prickling your stomach.

He sits on your couch, the one you’ve sat on many a lonely night before you even knew Bucky, his arms outstretched in a way which asks you to curl up on him in a hug.

“No, Bucky I’ll crush you.”

His heart cleaves in two with just how defeated your small voice is. It physically hurts him that you think of yourself like that and not as the most beautiful, voluptuous goddess that he knows you are.

“You’re not gonna crush me. Now c’mere.” His voice is soft but his hands are unyielding as he practically picks you up and deposits you in his lap, not taking no for an answer.

His strong arms snake around you, large hands resting on a pocket of fat on your waist that has always plagued your insecurities, but Bucky holds you tenderly, almost lovingly, and the self doubt slips from your mind and all you can focus on is how close you are to him.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers with a kiss to your temple. It almost sounds like he actually believes it - but your mind simply cannot accept that as fact, especially not after the humiliation surging through you from the strangers taunt earlier.

“Bucky, you don’t have to lie.”

“Sunrise, I’m not lying.” He retorts almost instantly, not wanting to allow any time for doubt to creep into your mind.

“You’re my roommate, you can’t very well call me an ugly pig, which is exactly what I am.”

Bucky so badly wants you to be able to see yourself the way he sees you, how vibrant his life becomes when you so much as walk into a room, how all his anxieties fade to nonexistence when you smile at him.

How you are everything he has ever dreamed of.

You sleep one very thin wall away, and all he can ever think of as he falls asleep on his own every night is if you are in the next room thinking of him too, wishing that your dreams will be consumed by him as his are by you.

“Stop. Please stop putting yourself down. You are gorgeous, stunning, and so much more than just my roommate.” He says sincerely, wiping away a stray tear as it trickles over the apple of your cheek. “You are my Sunrise, the stunning star at the centre of my universe that lights up my entire life.”

Never in a million years did you imagine these words coming out of Bucky Barnes’ mouth. You stare at him, jaw slack in utter shock, waiting for the moment where he takes it all back or to clarify that you’ve misinterpreted the intention and in fact he really means that you’re good friends, just very good friends.

This must be your hopeful heart overreacting after such an upsetting day, because surely he cannot actually think of you as more than that.

“It hurts me that you can’t see how impossibly beautiful you are, how you’re the most stunning woman everywhere you go, how I can’t take my eyes off you even for a minute whether it’s lazing around here in your pyjamas or all dolled up for a night out. You will always be the most beautiful woman in any room to me.”

Your chest feels like it’s about to explode any second with how much warmth is ballooning in your lungs. This isn’t happening. Surely you bumped your head getting out of the cab and this is all just a dream your mind has concocted to heal from the anguish sustained earlier.

“You can’t possibly mean that.” You shake your head, attempting to pull yourself out of the hallucination your brain is composing.

Bucky's eyes flit down to your lips, slightly chapped and dehydrated from crying your eyes out, but when they return to your gaze again, there’s a palpable desperation which quivers in his pupils.

“My whole fucking world comes to a standstill when you enter a room and like a magnet I can’t help but be drawn to you. You make my heart beat out of my chest just by smiling at me. There is not a day where I don’t wish to be back home here with you, where it’s just the two of us and the world outside holds no consequence because you’re all I’ve ever needed, all I’ve ever wanted. Can you really not see how powerful the hold you have over me is?”

There should be no doubt, given his confession, how much significance you have in Bucky’s heart, and yet you’re in disbelief, utter shock, unable to truly comprehend why he cares for you in such a way, when there are so many other women who are hotter, skinnier, funnier than you.

If this was written in one of the thousands of romance novels you’ve read, you wouldn’t hesitate to believe how much love the protagonists have for one another, but because it’s happening to you, that you are the heroine of this story, your mind is conditioned to reject the premise altogether.

“Bucky…” You mumble, your mind is spinning too much to form a coherent thought, let alone articulating just how consequential your feelings for the man whose lap you're sitting in are.

“Even if you don’t feel the same way, I need you to know how beautiful you are to me.” And that’s when your brain kicks into gear - you cannot stand any insinuation that your feelings for your roommate are simply platonic, and not the all consuming, devoted love that fills your heart with as much sunshine as on a cloudless summer day.

Especially not after his admission.

“Not feel the same? Bucky, I’ve been in love with you since you mov-”

At the mention of the word ‘love’ Bucky pulls your face close with a hand on either side of your face, and kisses you so forcefully the rest of your sentence is muffled and completely forgotten about.

You haven’t kissed someone in such a long time, and your stomach prickles with nerves as you frantically try remembering the movements you’re meant to make with your lips, where your tongue should be, that you should close your eyes. But as long as it has been, you’re sure the sparks you feel as his warm lips caress yours is because it is James Barnes kissing you, and not just anyone.

He smells and tastes divine, like sweet honey and sharp cinnamon, his lips soft as pillows that move hungrily against yours, like he can’t get enough of you either, and when he moans into your mouth you swear you see the gates of heaven.

When his tongue slips into your mouth, the realisation hits you square in the chest that you’re kissing your Bucky, the man who sleeps in the adjacent room, who cooks you breakfast shirtless in your kitchen, who always thinks to bring home your favourite food after a long day at work where he could arguably only want to think about himself.

The man you love. And who reciprocates that ardent feeling.

The awareness that it’s him knocks all the breath from your lungs and you need to come up for air much sooner than you would have liked, but Bucky gazes up at you with that familiar warmth that you never would have believed was something more than just friendship, but now seems like it was the clue all along that the two of you were never just roommates.

“You love me, huh?” He says in such a playfully taunting tone that makes you smile.

“Yeah… but I’m your Sunrise aren’t I?”

“That you are. My beautiful. Stunning. Gorgeous. Sexy. Perfect Sunrise.” Bucky places sweet kisses to your lips between each adjective, each one lasting a little longer than the previous. “I love you too.”

Maybe you can’t understand why Bucky feels this way about you when there are far more attractive people in the world. But maybe that doesn’t matter.

Perhaps your love for him is part of what makes you the most beautiful person in the world in his eyes, the way his love for you is why you find him the most alluring man you have ever met. And that will forever be enough for you.

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[girl4music]

That’s not true with me. I don’t have NOTPs because I don’t really talk about the relationships between characters that I don’t ship together. Just the same as I don’t really ever talk about a character that I don’t like.

If I don’t talk about them all that much, you can safely assume I don’t like them all that much.

As for characters I absolutely hate.

You’ll never see me talk about them.

People often assume it’s the other way around. That if I talk so negatively about a character, I hate them.

The reality is I really like that character.

May even love them. I talk about them so negatively often because I find their negative characterization interesting or compelling. It’s not because I hate it.

For example: Willow Rosenberg.

She’s actually my favourite character in the entire Buffyverse. But I read her for filth most of the time.

I’m constantly talking about her negative characterization. Her qualities or arc.

The reason why is because I LOVE THAT about her. I find it so fascinating about her character. Willow’s representation and development is highly exciting.

She’s an amazingly well-written and well-portrayed morally grey character with an arc that is riveting.

But I’ve actually had so many people on here ask me why I talk so much crap about her. Why I hate her.

I don’t hate her. Not in the slightest.

I hate the way she behaves and reacts sometimes but that’s part of what makes me so thoroughly invested.

If I actually hated her, I’d never talk about her because I don’t talk about characters that I do actually hate.

Yes. Those characters exist. You’ll just never know it.

The same with ships. If you know I am aware of a ship but I never ever talk about them - assume I hate them.

If I always talk about the ship but not in the most positive way - don’t assume that. I do love them.

The way I consume media and TV art/entertainment is in a very unusual way because my intention is to learn.

It’s not to be entertained or pleasured.

I have no interest in art/entertainment to be appeased.

I don’t care what looks good, sounds good, feels good.

Blah blah blah. I want to be mentally stimulated.

I want to expand my consciousness and sense of self.

Everything I watch, regardless of what age or genre it is, it has to be something incredibly thought-provoking.

I just fucking switch off otherwise. I just don’t care.

I am incapable of consuming media just to consume.

Now what’s funny is aesthetically and thematically, I like camp, I like stuff that really isn’t all that serious at all. I like the supernatural, metaphorical, philosophical.

But the caveat is that it has to be well-written. The writing is very important to me in whatever it is. So when it comes to characters and also character relationships/dynamics, I don’t have to “like” or “ship” them. I just have to be compelled by them. That’s it.

I have to be given room to think and feel and interpret.

You give me that - I’ll quickly a be lot more engaged.

I do not think you have to “like” a character or “ship” a character dynamic. You just have to learn something.

It’s just with me personally that tends to be why I like or ship them because what’s important to me is learning.

I don’t ship Xena and Gabrielle so obsessively and egregiously because they’re “cute” together. I couldn’t care a less about that. I ship them because they’re an incredible multi-faceted compelling character dynamic and I learn something new or something profound out of watching them - out of understanding that dynamic.

If all that they had about them or between them was “cuteness”, I wouldn’t ship them. I wouldn’t give a shit.

It’s not about that for me. It never has been.

Never will be.

i feel like nobody has NOTPs anymore. like if you hate a ship now it has to be for some deep moral reason and you have to justify it to everyone what happened to just not liking stuff that isnt inherently bad but just because you personally think it sucks

[riverns]

⟡ werewolf shauna ( x caretaker f!reader )

genre: sfw + nsfw towards end warnings: mdni, g!p shauna, sub!reader, purposeful low caps, this is mostly season 1 shauna coded, jackie mention, breeding

⟢ werewolf!shauna who was on suppressants before the crash, so was pretty good at hiding it. of course, every whole moon she had to stay home, but, otherwise, no one knew, not even jackie. ⟢ werewolf!shauna who had only entirely transformed one time before the crash, and swore she would never do it again, solely because of how painful it was ⟢ werewolf!shauna who has to shave daily ⟢ werewolf!shauna who has to eat 2x more meat than the average person to stay healthy. her mom is tired of buying so much meat, she's joked about just moving to a farm or something ⟢ werewolf!shauna whose secret got out after the crash. ( you could say the wolf got out of the.... yeah nevermind ) ⟢ werewolf!shauna who feels you're the only person she can trust to watch over her during full moons "fuck- y/n, go- go outside, please." she would plead, curling up into the corner, the attic creaking under her shifting, growing weight. her hands- which, resembled more of claws right now- were covering her eyes, as if she couldn't stand to look at you. "no, shauna, i'm here for you, whether you like it or not." you'd say from your corner, your voice somewhat shaky. shauna couldn't blame you for that, it wasn't every day you saw your teammate growing a mane of hair, a long, bushy tail and ears from the top of her head.

⟢ werewolf!shauna who grows protective over you after you show that you are a helpful caregiver to her. she's always by your side, giving you princess treatment for even the smallest acts. need to take out the shit bucket? she's coming with you and walking in front of you to make sure you don't trip, using her enhanced night-vision to scope out any pesky roots ⟢ werewolf!shauna who produces more heat than other people. she lets you and jackie cuddle with her at night, but no one else. ( she's always big-spooning you ) ⟢ werewolf!shauna who- as she stays out in the wilderness longer, realizes that being in her half-shifted form is much more comfortable than being fully or not at all shifted. the girls eventually get used to her tail, even though she has to watch where she wags it ⟢ werewolf!shauna who brings you bones after she butchers something. sometimes, she chews on them when she feels pent up, but usually, they're more of a thank you for you nsfw under cut

⟢ werewolf!shauna who is a menace when she's approaching a rut. she becomes snappy, spends more time running around in the woods, and gets hungry much faster than usual, which is already really fast. not to mention how clingy she gets with you. ⟢ werewolf!shauna who has an oral fixation, especially towards her rut or when she's in rut. if she isn't chewing on a bone, she's nibbling at your neck, kissing you hungrily, or - her favorite - sucking your tits until she falls asleep ⟢ werewolf!shauna who needs to breed you. the poor puppy gets excited so easily, even if she can just see your arms, legs, or a little inch of your waist- she's hard. she's constantly daydreaming about filling you with her pups ⟢ werewolf!shauna who when she gets the chance, is pinning you down or against something virtually anywhere. she isn't aware of her own strength, and can accidentally hurt you when she gets riled up ⟢ werewolf!shauna who is so talkative when she's fucking you. oh yeah, she doesn't moan, but she whimpers and grunts into your ears. "you're g'na be such a pretty mama" "fuck, you're s'hot- thank you- fuck-" "gonna fill you with m'pups" ⟢ werewolf!shauna who is a slut for praise. call her dog/puppy/mutt and she's already whimpering at your feet, begging for affection

a/n: this is very inspired by @alwxyswlw 's werewolf shauna works, so please give them some luv!! nyway, let me know if you guys want more of werewolf shauna i love writing her :3

[yaseraphine]

pick a card 9 - what's next in love ?

masterlist / ko-fi

my last reading : who likes you ? who wants to get closer to you ?

This is a general reading. Take what resonates and leave the rest.

DISCLAIMER : When I talk about love, I include every single forms of love (eros, philia, storge, self-love...). If you are solely looking for romantic love between two people, pass on this reading for this time.

ANNOUNCEMENT : I will soon share with you something I have been working on... The month of April will be full of surprises so stay on the look out for updates... Little hint : it has to do tarot services hehe

Pile 1

The Emperor, The Fool, Page of Cups (back of the deck - Knight of Wands )

Your pile is represented by the King of Wands.

Right off the bat, I am picking up on a young, wild and free and really flirty energy here. You might be in a talking stage with someone. There might be a lot of banter between you guys. A lot of snarky back and forth comments. If you are not talking to anyone or one specific person at the time, you are just doing you, having fun and trying to get the best out of life. I am just getting a really free spirited energy here. You might be in a phase in your love life where you’re more open and you let things flow. I don’t think you are actively looking to settle right now. You just enjoy lifing and the company of others, and if it means having a flirty conversation with the bartender or waiter, then you are going to do so without thinking much of it.

I shuffled your tarot cards after writing the paragraph above and OH BOY was I picking up on the right energies. I audibly screamed when your cards fell as it is probably the first time in my readings that my spirit guides listened to me and gave the exact amount of cards I asked for all at once (my spirit guides are usually little pranksters they love to test my patience i am sure they are geminis lmaoo). You got the Emperor, followed by The Fool and then the Page of Cups with the back of the deck being the Knight of Wands… TALK ABOUT FIERY ARIES ENERGY BABY ! Your pile is giving me so much energy right now this is insane. 

What I see for you next in love is just the continuation of this wild and free energy. Continue to cater to your needs, to be your own boss, to be open to going out. Hang out with friends, be a little cocky and savage, a little wild. Do not hesitate to dress up, to make yourself look good. You are entering a period of your life where you are extremely attractive and magnetic. There might in fact be a lot of eyes on you, Pile 1. And, let’s be real for a second : you are probably aware of all of them but none of them really match your vibe, and they know it too so they never really approach you. 

But, what I am seeing, in a few months from now, probably 8 to 10 months, a specific person will totally match your vibes (and your freak hehe). They will come at you slowly but surely. You guys will still be in this fiery energy, not really seeking love actively. They will come and you might not see a potential right off the bat. They might find you attractive and like your vibes the moment they meet you, but I don’t think they will necessarily see you as a potential lover either. It will only be “by accident” that you guys will build a connection. I see a really hot couple, looking good and smelling good, posting on social media, traveling and sipping on some margarita on a terrace in Paris. 

Now,.. I will be honest, I do not think this relationship will be a long term one. It might last 7 months to 1 year, maybe even 1 year and a half maximum. However, not being long term does not mean it will be a waste of time. I think you will enjoy yourself and not regret one bit when the relationship will end. Your breakup will most likely be on really good terms, and most of you will stay friends after separating. 

If you are solely looking for long term relationships, you can easily pass on this one and wait more to find a better fit for you. Personally, I think this relationship could be revitalising for a lot of you who have gone through a pretty traumatic breakup / divorce that left you in pieces. It will remind you that love doesn’t have to be complicated. But then again, you have all the free will to choose whether you want this relationship or not. 

House Five - Passion, play, children, confidence and creativity, House Nine - Spiritual growth, Mercury - Think, learn, network and communication, Fire - Confidence, optimism, passion and bravery. 

Again, the flirty and fiery energy is coming back. Some of you could benefit from being on dating apps, even if it is just to meet friends. Right now, the best thing you can do is focus on yourself while spending time with your friends and just nurturing your friendships. 

I would advise you to go to (gay) clubs, raves, any social event where you could bring friends with you and have a blast, especially events surrounding music, such as concerts and festivals, all of that ! You could meet really great people there, friends you will have a bunch of fun with and with whom you will share great laughs together.

What’s next in love is a lighthearted energy and the realization that life doesn’t necessarily have to be heavy all the time. Let yourself breathe freely, add some spice and adventure to your life, talk to strangers and maybe flirt a little (a lil ego boost in this period won’t hurt you but sill, don’t fall in vanity and don’t be desperate for external validation)

Cherishing yourself and loving yourself is your primary concern for this period and this is what attracts the partner you need now, not the one you want. 

Life is simple. Get into the moment.

The lyric “Call me beauty” from the song Girl’s Capitalism of tripleS LOVElution started playing in my head on repeat in the middle of your pile. This is the energy you should embody during this period. Don’t hesitate to check the music video as I think it might be relevant for some of you ! 

Below are the lyrics of the song in question. It is translated from Korean to English so maybe some translations can appear a bit off but I think the song holds the core message for your love life for the next few months or year.

“ (Woo) la-la-la, la-la-la-la, la, heart

La-la-la, la-la-la, la, heart

La-la-la, la-la-la-la, la-la, la, heart

I'm the key to my heart, love me better

All over the screen, you're shining brightly

The endless feed is soaking my heart

Now I know happiness, you see

You can't replace it

For me to shine brightly

More than a dazzling filter capitalism‘s my charm, oh, yeah (Oh, yeah)

Reality awoke from within

Gonna cherish my dreams for a higher self

Selfish (Ba-pa-dap)

Whatever they say, my feelings come first (Ba-pa-dap)

For that to work, gotta work on my account care (Ba-pa-dap)

I am my own standard, oh, I love myself

I am beautiful

Call me bеauty) Cute is now boring

(Call me beauty) All that's prеtty is mine

(Call me beauty) Gonna love myself in the mirror

I'm beautiful, love me better

(Inner beauty) Gonna cherish my inner heart

(Inner beauty) Aesthetically confident attitude

(Inner beauty) Gonna love myself the most

I'm beautiful, love me better

My various charms

Will write my story

Gonna love all of me

Yeah, you call me beauty (Woo)

Love that for you pile 1 ! 

thank you for reading until the end pile 1 ! lots of love <3

Pile 2

Queen of Cups, The Devil, The World

Your pile is represented by the Three of Pentacles. 

There is a heavy The Star card energy here. Friendship, love in a platonic/ philia love might be relevant to you at this time or just in general. I think you are asked to connect more with your friends, and cherish platonic love at the moment. 

What is next for you in love are deep friendships, where you share core values and exchange about politics, spirituality and your deepest fears. But also, a reconnection with your higher self.

I am picking up on the fact that people that chose this pile are most likely part of the LGBTQ+ community. Most of you are pansexual or bi, or you just don’t really put any label on your sexuality. You love freely, and gender or race is the least of your concerns. You love someone for their soul, their wit, their self-expression, generally who they are. You just love humans and humanity in general. You see love as this boundless emotion. Love is intrinsically spiritual to you. It is a spiritual fire, but not a destructive one.. No, to you love is both cerebral and magical. This pile is really airy. A lot of you could have air dominance in your chart, aquarius or gemini placements. Mercury and Uranus as your dominant planets. You are extremely open minded and, coming in this reading, I don’t think you expect much. It is like you do not really care about the “status” of your love life. You don’t feel this need to define yourself because to you, “to define is to limit”. 

I know it is deviating quite a bit from the topic of the reading but your energy fascinates me. It feels like a cool breeze on a summer morning at the end of August. Your energy is so “egoless”. You just let things flow and don’t take anything personally. Extremely spiritual, and elevated people chose pile because it is transforming into a philosophical, poetic and spiritual rant about what love is, how you perceive love,etc… 

Maybe what is next for you in love, apart from the friendships, is you trying to define what love is to you. Where is love ? How is love ? Why is love ? Who is love ? All these questions are the driving forces of the spiritual love quest you are embarking in for the next 1 to 3 months I am getting. This time period will help you emerge as a new person once summer comes. So, what I will mention in this reading will mostly concern the months from March to late June/ early July.

The light will guide you.

What is next in love for you is a deep reconnection to your higher self. You are looking for a relationship with yourself where your ego is not the driving force. You are looking to understand what your soul craves, without all the mind games. You are moving away from all the bs that our capitalistic society is feeding us. There is no such a thing as a “black cat gf” and “golden retriever bf” and “he is this mbti type and i am this type so we are not compatible”,,.. All of that categorizes people and limits their existence and erases their true complexity as individuals : you are moving away from it. You are realizing now more than ever that love is not transactional : there are simply no mathematical formulas for it. Love flows and goes, it knows no program or magic recipe.

I am picking up half of the people here already know that. You are just deepening and strengthening your “love belief system”.

I am getting one specific bible verse →  1 Corinthians 13:4-8 : 

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 

5 It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 

6 Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 

7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

8 Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away.

This verse, or this message might be relevant for some of you. What I am just getting overall is that you are going towards a selfless, boundless and spiritual love. 

Now, I want to warn some of you who will go too deep in the “ego death” route that they could end up getting taken advantage of by evil narcissists who will feed off their light. Conserve some ego still. Unfortunately, it is a harsh world out there and sensitive souls like you need to preserve their light for only a few rare people. Unconditional love is not for everyone, remember that. 

House Four - Cultural and family roots, , Virgo - Integrity, reverence and service and House Twelve - Spirituality, transcendence, karma, sacrificial service and healing. 

What’s next in love is a period of abstinence. And not of love, but of all the dates, and the mundane and modern activities associated with love. Some of you might also be in actual abstinence , like you do not indulge in any form of intimate or sexual activities by choice. Some of you might be religious, so it is just you deepening this relationship you have with God. If you’re muslim, this is probably because we are in the month of Ramadan ( by the way, Ramadan Mubarak to all the muslims that are reading this ! May Allah SWT forgive you and may this month reconnect you with your spirituality and strengthen your relationship with Allah<3 i know it is already the end of the month but hey bear with me lol)

This spring is a time where you purge anything unnecessary and where you preserve yourself from the outside world. I think your energy mesh extremely well with the current North Node being in Pisces as well as the current Venus Retrograde. It is a time of deep reflection and spiritual enlightenment for you. 

thank you for reading until the end pile 2 ! lots of love <3

Pile 3

Your pile is represented by the Temperance and the Six of Swords. 

I feel the need to share with you by what angel both of your representative cards are ruled by : Temperance : Chauakiah, The God of Joy - Reconciliation. Regains the favour of those one has offended / Six of Swords : Anauel, The Gentle God : Perception of unity. Protects against accidents. Heals the sick.

Compared to the other piles, I felt a heavier energy here. Not necessarily in a negative sense. It was just a bit gloomier, drier and serious. 

You are most likely in a process of healing and moving on. 

So… Pile 3.. How do I put this.. While Trying to shuffle for your tarot cards, so many fell off and the energy was overall super messy. I have a strong belief that you do not really know what you want in love. After your fair share of heartbreaks and love disappointments, you’re only now realizing that you were just chasing after an idea of love, a chimera. The people you have been romantically involved with so far were all reflections of your deepest insecurities and fears. You didn’t know yourself yet you tried to figure out those people, please them, love them deeply while you couldn’t even give that energy back to yourself. I know it sounds harsh, pile 3, but you need to identify your real likes and dislikes and what you are truly looking for in a partnership. People aren’t archetypes, they aren’t limited to an MBTI type or a Venus sign. Your relationship with them isn’t limited to a specific synastry aspect or overlay. You tried to find your answers to these failed romances everywhere but within yourself. And I know damn well it sounds super corny, but it is true. Get to know the real you, not the one that got lost in what your parents expected of you, what a random astro post said your sun and moon signs are like in love, not all of that stupid stuff. 

Now, I am getting that some of you, actually a pretty large group of people here, already got past that “delusional phase” in your love life. So, for the moment, you’re more bitter, and the rant I just did is just something you wish you could’ve told the younger you/ the past you. Right now, you are trying to forgive yourself and this is amazing. I believe when I post this, Venus will be Retrograde. Use this time to reflect on your love life. I think you might attract someone, or more so someone back. Don’t jump at me yet, this person isn’t a dusty ok lol.  I think you guys were subconsciously manifesting each other this past year or 2 years I am getting. The Venus retrograde will get you guys closer but not in the 3D. It will still be in the 5D or subconsciously. Even though I didn’t put any tarot cards for you, the first two cards that fell were the 7 of Cups and the Page of cups. Then the Knight of Cups came up with the Queen of Cups and now I am seeing the 2 of Cups and the King of Cups poking out of my deck. So much cups energy. You guys have the potential to reconnect and have a really loving and deeply healing connection. Now I am getting that some of you actually don’t really know this person well or haven’t actually met them in real life. Whatever the case may be, this is a really beautiful connection that awaits you. I will be fully honest though, it might take a while to manifest 💀And when I say a while, I mean a WHILE. Like in a span of years. I know some of you guys probably sighed or rolled their eyes at their screen but either this is divine timing, either a lot of you who chose this pile are in really different stages in their journey, and some need a longer time than the others to reach this relationship. 

Honestly, pile 3, your spread is giving “ it’s all up to you”.You might have a lot of suitors, and some are genuinely good for you. Do whatever you want (frustrating answer, I know)

Be brave enough to be bad at something new.

House Two - Physical security, possessions, material values and self worth , Mars - Move forward and defend self, Saturn - Feel restricted, experience struggle, learn hard work and patience

What to get from these three oracles cards is that you have the control in your love life,  you just need to believe in yourself and your ability to attract the love you desire. It is a lot about self worth and believing that you deserve this unconditional love that you desire so much. A lot of hopeless romantics chose this pile, and you might be starting to feel your inner romantic lover boy/ lover girl dying because of these terrible traumatic experiences. This reading is here to remind you that the best thing you can do for yourself is to resist. Push through the pain, accept the pain and move on from the pain. Live it fully and let it flow, then let it go. Your pain is legitimate but don’t let it rotten your heart so much. This world needs more people like you pile 3, and no matter how hard your love life is/ was, believe in a brighter future. Learn through the experiences. It’s okay. 

sorry for your reading, pile 3, it was a bit messy and all over the place. I think that for now your energy is really neurotic and your mind might be going at 100mph and it was felt in this reading (or Am I making excuses for doing this reading while being tired lol maybe it's both honestly). Hope you could at least get some messages that put some light on your current situation. Good luck, pile 3, never lose your heart, it is one of the most precious things you have. <3

thank you for reading until the end pile 3 ! lots of love <3

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆stay blessed everyone⋆.˚🦋༘⋆

[cookiecakecookie-cake]

Hi I really like your writing. I have a request. For cookies of your choice, let's say they had someone close to them (romantic or platonic) that pulled an Odysseus were the reader set out to the licorice sea, was presumed deceased, and came back years later all scarred up. Cookies and Epic have invades my brain. Thanks for reading.

No way.... odysseus..... like my blorbo outis limbus company that im soooso normalll abouttt... (i didnt make this video but god i wish i did) anyways, i hope you don't mind the fact that i took this and RAN with it. mwehehehe -cookie cake

No More Going Back

(Pre-corruption!Mystic Flour Cookie/Burning Spice Cookie/Shadow Milk Cookie x Reader)

Inspired in part by I'll Take You by @/brittle-doughie

cws: angst, lots of talk about death & war, shouting/arguments and brief descriptions of dead bodies.

War was on the edge of the horizon. Your gazed out at sea. Far off in the distance, there was a nation that intended to take all you sought dear. Then and there, you decided that there was no other choice. You were going to protect the ones you loved or die trying.

-----

"-And when I'm gone, I want you to take care of yourself, alright? I won't be around to get rid of overtly greedy cookies and I know everyone will be wanting a lot during these trying times. If you ever need help, know you can rely on-"

"My love, I am not a child."

You sigh, "I know but I worry." Wheat Flour Cookie was a cookie who often gave herself to others in surplus, leaving little left for herself. You didn't want anybody to use her because of that and she was more than aware of that fact.

"I'll ask the people of the temple for help if I need anything and I will keep in mind of my limits as to who I can and cannot help." She held your face in her hands as she spoke, making sure you caught every one of her words loud and clear.

"You promise?"

"I promise... That is, if you promise, in return, to come back safely." You smile, gently resting your forehead on hers. "I promise, my grace."

-----

CLANG!

Your spear clashed against the Red Spice Cookie's own parashu, sending sparks across the area. You hold that for a moment, before deflecting his attack, making the great force of his weapon crash uselessly against the ground. He tries to charge you again, but you manage to easily parry, sending his weapon hurtling across the room. You angle your spear at his throat.

"You loose." You state, very matter-of-factly.

"You really don't take any hostages, do you, dear?" He brushes the spear away with the back of his hand. You pull the spear away from him, walking to put it away.

"The only hostage I'd take is you, my ember."

You can't see him, but you can sense the fond eye roll from across the room.

You dock your weapon back in the rack you got it from. "... You were distracted. I can tell."

"You don't miss a single detail, either." He gets up, stretching his back. You can hear a couple bones pop. "... There's been a lot on my mind lately."

"You have a lot on your plate, I could only imagine." You walk back over to him, trying to assess if there were any injuries you should attend to. "Just... come back to me in one piece, alright? I'm going to be incredibly bored without my hearth." He grumbled, heating up at your careful observation.

"Of course. I can't keep you waiting for too long, can I?" You leave a sweet peck on his cheek.

-----

"... So, that's it then? You're just... going off without me?" Blueberry Milk Cookie stared, completely baffled. You tried to avoid his eyes as much as you could.

"You make it sound like I'm ending our relationship."

"Well, you might as well be!!"

The Fount of Knowledge was seen by all as a figure of intellectualism. Rationality. Yet, here he stood, clinging to your uniform with a look that you know you can't meet.

"This is important to me. To us. If I don't do something, we might loose everything."

"Have you considered loosing you may be even worse?!"

"... I have."

"Oh yeah! Sure! Uh-huh! Talk like you have eeeeverything under control, why don't you! Like everything's going to go well! Sure! Go off and play hero and DIE and leave me here with NOTHING!"

"Blueberry, I-"

"Oh no, nonono NO! You don't get to 'Blueberry' me, right now! Have you considered what this is going to be like for me?! I'll have to manage everything by myself and you KNOW those cookies are as blind as bats if they don't like the reality of what they're seeing! If you go off and DIE out there, what am I going to do, then, huh?! WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?!?" He held onto your shoulders with a desperation that you have never seen on his face before.

"I..."

"'I' WHAT?!"

"I DON'T KNOW!" You finally looked him in the eyes. They were angry, yes, but they were also full of fear. His worry streamed down his perfect face. "I don't... know. And it's impossible for me to know, just as it's impossible for one cookie to know everything. But what I do know is that the lives of the cookies around us are at stake if this isn't handled with care."

"... And there's nobody else that can take your place? No one?" He tried one last time to stop you, to keep you safe, with him.

"Do you know anyone as smart as me when it comes to the battlefield?"

"I'm not in the mood for jokes." It was time for him to try and dodge your gaze, looking away from you.

"I'm sorry, my love. I don't want this either. I'm left with no choice." You try to reach out to him, gently holding his face to look back at you. "But if I am to die out there, let me have one last request. Let's spend our remaining time together in happiness, so that you don't regret the fading hours."

He tried to stop himself from crying for a second, but it was a futile effort. He crumpled into your arms, chest heaving with his emotion.

"... Please come back soon."

"I will."

-----

You didn't die, no, but you might as well be. Lost at sea and prevented from seeing those you love for years on end, you'd almost gone mad. All you wanted was to see the ones you loved once again, but it seemed every force of nature planned against you and maybe they were.

When you finally return, broken and bettered, it was obvious that something was wrong. You knew that it'd been years since you'd last seen your home, but it didn't look like.... this.

You walked down the roads and alleyways of the once bustling city, without a single hint of any life. The houses and buildings were intact, but the only thing for miles was pure white flour.

A temple of gold and splendor was reduced to nothing but crumbs and rubble on the ground. The cookies weren't just dead, but ground to a fine powder that made the air taste overwhelmingly like spice.

Cookies hung from string that stretched far into the sky, presumably connected to some unseen controller. They talked of nonsense, if they even spoke at all. Some just looked at you with hollow eyes, were they dead or tired of all the lies? You couldn't tell anymore.

And when you found them, in the middle of it all? You wished you had died out there, so you didn't have to see the one who you once loved reduced to... this.

A monster.

[msfbgraves]

Couch or no couch - I wasn't aware of that meme, and honestly, next to the Prime Minister of England having congress with a pig's snout, it's rather tame - this is true, and Europe is building its own army. When Europe has its own army, it does not, like it has been the case since the end of WWII, have to endorse every and all American crimes and violations of international law; all the invasions -oops, peace missions- that have been going on. The dictators installed in Latin America, the Afghans killed, the Palestinians and there are so many more.

Will Europeans be better people...? To our own, yes, which is more than you can say for Russia or America at the moment. And they are already poaching the best scientists from the States, many of whom weren't American, there was simply more money to be had at MIT. If Europe can keep internal peace (big if, but easier with clear outside enemies), there is no reason why it couldn't reclaim much of the influence America has now. You have billionaires, but no functioning infrastructure, you regularly allow your own children to get shot in the name of free speech, and now you are deporting tourists in chains. I mean, seasonal labour makes you money but that is basically the only thing tourists do. They literally come in, give you money, and then leave. You don't have to encourage them to come if you don't want them - Norway famously doesn't, they have oil - but deporting them is, like, the stupidest thing you can do. They were going to deport themselves, after buying a t-shirt and tipping their taxi driver!

Granted. I don't know how much European money is propping up the US economy, but if they get serious about buy European, things may be about to become pretty interesting.

I'm sure ESA is hiring for when they dismantle NASA and sell it to Bezos.

[yvesssssssss]

Hi! I saw this on another (x reader) post and I thought it was so cute! So, I was hoping you could do it. How would Shin A., Yoichi N., Kei U., and Natsuki S. react to falling in love with reader at first sight? Your work is really good by the way!

Falling in Love at First Sight

(shin, nagumo, uzuki, & natsuki)

Thank you!! I hope you like it(⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

Shin Asakura

Shin never expected to experience love at first sight. If anything, he found the whole concept ridiculous. How could someone fall for a person theey barely knew?

And yet, the moment he lays eyes on you, his mind goes completely blank.

It’s an ordinary day, nothing special about it—until you walk in. Something about you just grabs him. The way you carry yourself, the way your voice sounds when you greet someone nearby, the way your eyes scan the room, completely unaware of the effect you’re having on him.

His telepathy doesn’t even work right. Normally, he’d hear a flood of thoughts from everyone around him, but all he picks up from you is a soft static. He blinks, confused. His ability isn’t failing, so why can’t he hear your thoughts properly? And why is his heartbeat suddenly going a mile a minute?

His palms are sweaty. His throat is dry. And then—oh no. You’re walking toward him.

"Hey, are you okay?" you ask, noticing the way he’s just staring.

Shin jolts like he’s been electrocuted. "Y-yeah! I’m fine! Totally fine! Why wouldn’t I be fine?"

His voice cracks slightly at the nd. He internally screams.

You laugh, tilting your head at him with a curious smile, and he swears he’s never heard a sound so nice before. He wants to keep hearing it. Wants to know more about you.

Later, when he’s alone, he buries his face in his hands and groans.

"Oh my god. I just fell in love, didn’t I?"

Nagumo Yoichi

Nagumo has always prided himself on being smooth. Effortlessly charming, quick-witted, always a step ahead.

But the first time he sees you, something shifts.

It’s like time slows down for a second. His sharp dark eyes take in every little detail—your posture, your expression, the way your fingers absentmindedly tap against your leg as you wait for something. There’s nothing inherently unusual about you, and yet… he feels like someone just knocked the air out of his lungs.

His usual instinct would be to flirt, to tease, to test the waters and see how you’d react. And he does—because that’s just who he is—but there’s something different about it this time.

"Well, well," he drawls, sliding up next to you with an easy grin. "I didn’t expect to run into someone so interesting today."

You glance at him, amused. "Do you say that to everyone you meet?"

"Only when I mean it," he replies smoothly. But inside? He’s panicking.

Because, for the first time, he’s not just playing a game. He’s not just throwing out empty words to entertain himself. No—this is real. You are real. And the way his heart is pounding in his chest tells him he’s in serious trouble.

For once, Nagumo Yoichi has no plan.

And he loves it.

Uzuki Kei

Uzuki doesn’t believe in things like love at first sight.

It’s irrational. Illogical. An emotion that serves no purpose other than to distract and weaken people. He’s spent years conditioning himself not to feel—locking away everything that could make him vulnerable.

And then you show up.

The moment his gaze lands on you, something wavers inside him. It’s barely noticeable, just the faintest shift in his chest, but it’s there. His hands tighten slightly at his sides, fingers twitching like he’s resisting the urge to move.

Why?

Why does he suddenly feel so… aware of you?

He observes you quietly, his mind working to categorize this feeling, to analyze and dissect it until it makes sense. But no matter how hard he tries, he can’t seem to reduce it to something logical. It lingers, an unfamiliar warmth pressing against the ice he’s built around himself.

You finally notice him watching and meet his gaze. For a split second, something flashes in his dark red eyes—something uncertain. But it vanishes just as quickly.

"Can I help you?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

Uzuki hesitates. It’s brief, but for someone as composed as him, it’s a glaring mistake. He quickly schools his expression back into something neutral, tilting his head slightly.

"…No," he says after a pause. "Just passing through."

But as he walks away, he knows.

He’ll be thinking about you for a long, long time.

Natsuki Seba

Love at first sight? Yeah, right. Natsuki doesn’t believe in that crap.

At least, that’s what he thought—until he sees you.

His reaction is immediate. His whole body tenses, his fingers twitch, and his normally deadpan expression flickers with something dangerously close to shock. It’s so obvious that even Mafuyu, who barely pays attention to anything, notices right away.

"Whoa. What’s with your face?" Mafuyu snickers, nudging him. "Did you just fall in love?"

"Shut up," Natsuki mutters, forcing himself to look away. His ears are already burning.

He tries to play it cool, tries to act like nothing’s wrong, but it’s so wrong. He can’t focus, can’t think properly, because you exist and for some reason, that fact alone is scrambling his brain.

If you approach him first, he’s done for. His mind blanks the second you say his name, and for a moment, he just stares.

"Natsuki, right?" you ask, tilting your head.

He blinks. Say something. Anything.

"…Yeah."

That’s it. That’s all he can manage. And it’s so painfully awkward that Mafuyu starts wheezing with laughter beside him.

He groans, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away. "Ignore him. He’s an idiot."

You chuckle, completely unaware of the absolute chaos happening inside his head. Natsuki, the guy who never gets flustered, is suddenly questioning his entire existence.

Later, when he’s alone, he lets out a long, frustrated sigh and flops onto his bed, staring at the ceiling.

"This sucks," he mutters. "I think I like them."

And knowing himself, he knows this isn’t just going to go away.

[eggsandtrifles]

Here's a short list of information on PMDD for those who want to understand the physiology behind it.

[1] Bailey T.M. (2024). Premenstrual syndrome and premenstrual dysphoric disorder. O’Connell M, & Smith J.A., & Borgelt L.M.(Eds.), Women’s Health Across the Lifespan, 3rd Edition. McGraw Hill Education. https://accessmedicine-mhmedical-com.ezproxy.shsu.edu/content.aspx?bookid=3431&sectionid=284515994

[2] McLaughlin, J. E. (2022, April). Female reproductive endocrinology - female reproductive endocrinology. Merck Manual Professional Edition. https://www.merckmanuals.com/professional/gynecology-and-obstetrics/female-reproductive-endocrinology/female-reproductive-endocrinology

[3] Reid RL. Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder (Formerly Premenstrual Syndrome) [Updated 2017 Jan 23]. In: Feingold KR, Anawalt B, Blackman MR, et al., editors. Endotext [Internet]. South Dartmouth (MA): MDText.com, Inc.; 2000-. Table 1, Diagnostic Criteria for Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder (PMDD) Available from: https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/books/NBK279045/table/premenstrual-syndrom.table1diag/

[4] Iakimova, R. K., Stoimenova-Popova, M. Y., Chumpalova, P. G., Pandova, M. S., & Stoyanova, M. B. (2020a). A case report of a woman with premenstrual dysphoric disorder misdiagnosed as having bipolar affective disorder. Journal of Biomedical and Clinical Research, 13(2), 144–146. https://doi.org/10.2478/jbcr-2020-0021

When I took physiological psychology I chose to talk about PMDD for my final project that was shared with the class, because I understand how symptoms can be dismissed and taken for granted, especially by people we expect to care for and love us. Women's health is complex when we don't take time to understand it— this topic shouldn't be a taboo. There is a science behind feelings and behavior, it's not just about being in a mood. Please be mindful, these issues exist and can hurt those affected by it when we refuse to acknowledge what someone's body is going through.

I know that some folks remain undiagnosed because they can't get help due to finances or social limits, to name a few. If you are able, please seek help/medical care, and take care of yourself. If you cannot, please don't feel unheard— we know that you exist and feel your pain. 🖤

(In case anyone is interested, this is the project I made. I'm glad I came across this post, and hope we can spread some more awareness.)

https://www.canva.com/design/DAGJJ_H65b0/Dl_09Taw2ViQCuvzdh3wOg/edit?utm_content=DAGJJ_H65b0&utm_campaign=designshare&utm_medium=link2&utm_source=sharebutton

Pre-menstrual depression is always depicted as like "He He! I had a box of icecream bars and cried while watching the Titanic!" But in reality, it's more like, "I'm standing the edge of an abyss. There is nothing good inside of me, I'm filled with rage and desperation."

It's crazy that being told how to deal with that is never a part of anyone's menstrual sex education.

[moonlight-joy]

Fire and Fury

MASTERLIST

Fandom: Kraven the hunter

Summary: You’re an outlaw wanted for protecting endangered creatures. Kraven has been hired to track you down, but every time he corners you, you manage to slip away. Over time, your encounters turn into a game of passion and danger—until Kraven finds himself torn between duty and desire.

Pairing: Reader/Sergei Kravinoff

The jungle was alive with the sound of night creatures, the thick canopy above shrouding the moon in fragmented light. You moved through the underbrush with practiced ease, your breath steady despite the knowledge that he was out there—tracking you.

Kraven.

He had been hired to hunt you down, to drag you back in chains for daring to defy those in power. Your crime? Protecting creatures deemed “expendable” by the corporations that sought to wipe them from existence. The bounty on your head was high, but Kraven was not a man who hunted for money alone. He hunted for the challenge. For the thrill. And you had proven to be his most elusive prey yet.

But he had found you before. And when he did, the encounters always burned hotter than they should have.

A rustle behind you sent a jolt of awareness through your body, your instincts screaming a warning before you even turned. You pivoted just in time to avoid the snare that would have trapped your foot.

“Getting sloppy, aren’t we?”

His voice was a low purr, smooth and confident. You turned, muscles coiled in anticipation, and there he was—leaning against the trunk of a massive tree, watching you with that insufferable smirk.

“Not sloppy,” you countered, eyes locking onto his. “You just haven’t figured out how to keep me yet.”

Kraven chuckled, stepping forward, the glint of his weapons visible beneath the dim moonlight. “Oh, I could keep you if I wanted. The question is—do I want to?”

You knew the game well by now. Every time he caught you, every time he pinned you beneath him, your bodies locked in combat or tangled in something far more dangerous, he let you slip away. Whether by accident or by design, you couldn’t say. And neither of you spoke about it afterward.

Tonight would be no different.

You made the first move, lunging toward him with speed that had surprised lesser hunters. But Kraven was not lesser. He anticipated, countered, using your momentum against you. Within moments, you found yourself against the rough bark of the tree, his body pressed close, one arm braced against the trunk beside your head.

His breath was hot against your cheek.

“One of these days, I won’t let you go,” he murmured.

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickened. “One of these days, I might not run.”

His gaze darkened, something feral flickering in those golden eyes. And then his lips crashed against yours.

Every encounter blurred the lines further. Passion bled into rivalry, desire tangled with the hunt. Neither of you spoke of it in the daylight, yet when the night fell and your paths inevitably crossed, the hunger was undeniable.

You had begun to wonder—was he truly trying to capture you anymore, or was he simply giving himself an excuse to find you?

But the game could not last forever.

One night, as you lay tangled in sheets and moonlight, Kraven’s expression was different. The usual arrogance was gone, replaced by something almost hesitant.

“Tell me,” he said, voice rough, “who put this bounty on you?”

You frowned, shifting to study his face. “What does it matter? You were paid to bring me in, not ask questions.”

His fingers traced absently over your bare shoulder. “It matters now.”

You exhaled, staring up at the ceiling. “The Valen Syndicate. The ones pushing to expand deep into the reserves.”

Kraven’s jaw clenched. He had hunted for all kinds of people, but the Valens—he had been careful never to take work from them. They were ruthless, known for their cruelty and their willingness to use anyone as a pawn.

Including him.

The realization settled heavily in his chest. He had been used. The bounty wasn’t just about money—it was personal. And if there was one thing Kraven hated, it was being someone else’s weapon.

His eyes flicked back to you, and for the first time, he knew—this hunt had never been about capturing you.

It was about protecting you.

And this time, when you ran, he wouldn’t be chasing.

He would be fighting by your side.

The betrayal came swiftly. By the time Kraven had confronted the Valen Syndicate, they had already put their final plan into motion. They had never expected him to question the contract, but the moment he did, they retaliated.

They came for you.

The attack happened just before dawn. The hidden sanctuary where you had taken refuge exploded in flames, the creatures you had been protecting fleeing into the jungle. You fought fiercely, but they came in overwhelming numbers—too many, too well-trained. And for the first time in years, you knew you wouldn’t escape this time.

Until Kraven arrived.

He tore through them like a beast unleashed, his fury unmatched. The Valens had made a grave mistake in thinking they could use him. When the last of the mercenaries fell, you were left staring at him, chest heaving, your body bruised but alive.

Kraven stepped forward, gripping your arms, his expression fierce. “Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, still dazed. “You came back.”

His hands tightened slightly. “I never left.”

For the first time, you saw something deeper in his eyes. This wasn’t just about the chase anymore. It wasn’t about the thrill. It was something neither of you were ready to name, but it was there, undeniable.

And when he kissed you again, it wasn’t just fire and fury—it was something far more dangerous.

It was real.

The war against the Valens wasn’t over, but now you had something stronger than revenge or duty.

You had each other.

And for the first time, neither of you wanted to run.

[ablueper]

but not like that

beau: is that your first time killing something? or somebody?

caleb: he was burned alive in front of me.

beau: yeah, you did that, though.

caleb: i am well aware that i killed a person.

caleb talks about killing the priest of yeenoghu passively. he was burned, not i burned him. beau then calls him on that, and he acknowledges his active choice, but tries not to linger on it. the group, having seen him go catatonic after the fact though, wants to linger, wants to check on him.

to try to get out of the potential conversation about it he could outright dismiss their worries, which might invite more worry from them, or even anger. he could explain exactly what he was feeling, if he could even articulate it to himself - nevermind to people he is not totally comfortable with.

but after nott also expresses that she is concerned, caleb realizes that he has to give some explanation to the group. he has committed to trying out this group thing, which comes with a little give and take.

caleb: it was terribly grisly. his hair was on fire, and he burned horribly. maybe it went a little further than i anticipated. i have killed people before in defense, ja. but not like that.

caleb states the facts of what happened: "it was terribly grisly. his hair was on fire, and he burned horribly." everyone else saw this, so he couldn't possibly dispute or couch just how bad it was.

he then gives himself some room for speculation: "maybe it went a little further than i anticipated (emphasis mine)." meaning, he is careful about his violence, he anticipates how far he will have to go. or rather, how far it will have to go. he separates himself from the violence, whether to try to convince the group that he is okay to be around or subconsciously for himself. maybe both.

he admits to the group he has killed before: "i have killed people before in defense, ja. but not like that (emphasis mine)." he is not lying in the strictest sense. first, admitting to having killed people in defense does not mean he hasn't killed people in other circumstances. and second, killing his parents wasn't exactly like killing the priest. he killed the priest out of revenge for hurting nott; a kind of late defense. but he did not kill his parents out of revenge.

he is trying to be as just as honest as he thinks the group needs from him in order to move attention off of him. then he can go back to not thinking about the nuances of his agency in killing people.

[getstickbugdlol]

i was recently discussing the severance finale, and, more specifically, milchick's dance break with choreography & merriment with one of my best friends, a Black woman from Jackson, Mississippi.

She wondered out loud if Choreography & Merriment may have been based on or inspired by Sonic Boom, the colloquial name for Jackson State University (an HBCU)'s marching band - she said the uniforms looked similar and the performance style was also similar.

Here is a link to their Disneyland performance a few months ago and while I don't know if the Severance crew was aware of them specifically, I can absolutely see the influence she was talking about.

Really intrigued by the implications of this department being hands down the most black people we ever see at Lumon, with Milchick fronting them, and having the most explicit Black influence, while the rest of Lumon is soooo white and cultish in a fashion very similar to white Christian fundamentalism.

I don't have a lot of analysis to do here and I'll leave that to others who are more informed, but I thought it was a really interesting thing my friend noticed that I never would have as a white viewer and wanted to share.

[norrisradio]

BETTER TOGETHER ‪‪

❤︎‬ PAIRING: alex albon x reader | ‪‪❤︎‬ WC: 4.0K ‪‪ ❤︎‬ GENRE: fluff with a little bit of angst (nothing sad I SWEAR)‪‪ ❤︎‬ INCOMING RADIO: buzzer beater for alex's birthday! | a part of my new ONLY EXCEPTION series‪‪ ❤︎‬ RECOMMENDED LISTENING: only exception, paramore ● better together, jack johnson ● home, edward sharpe & the magnetic zeroes ● gravity, john mayer ● peach, kevin abstract

‪‪❤︎‬ SUMMARY: If this is madness—if you are the exception to every rule—then maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t mind it at all.

Alex doesn’t stay up late.

His body is a finely tuned machine, and sleep is the fuel it runs on—eight, nine hours if he’s lucky. Rest, recovery—they’re sacred to him, like the quiet before dawn. But then there’s you, nestled into the corner of the couch, the soft glow from the city lights casting shadows on your face. Your eyes are alight with a thought you can’t quite shake, a question that nags at you with quiet insistence.

“And then I started thinking,” you begin, your voice threaded with that animated energy that always seems to bubble up when you're on the cusp of an epiphany. “What if Federer never picked up a racket? Would he have been great at something else, or was he only ever meant for tennis?”

Alex’s head tilts slightly, a brow quirked, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He can see the wheels turning in your head, the way your fingers absentmindedly twirl a strand of your hair as you wait for him to respond. He loves this—your strange, whimsical questions that don’t need answers, but instead are invitations to explore the edges of whatever thought just ran through your mind.

He knows what he should do. He should remind you that it’s well past midnight, that he has to be up in a few short hours to train. He should tell you that sleep is more important than philosophical musings. But instead, he feels himself leaning into the cushions, his arm stretching lazily along the backrest, already too comfortable to move. He has to admit, he’s captivated by you, by the way you think, how you see the world in a way he’s never quite been able to.

“You think people only have one thing they’re meant for?” he asks, his voice a mix of curiosity and something else—something lazy, something that wants to stay in the moment with you. His fingers absentmindedly tap against the edge of the couch, but he’s not really paying attention to them.

You don’t answer immediately, your lips pressing together in thought. He watches as the shadow of the streetlight outside dances across your face, highlighting the sharpness in your eyes, the way your eyebrows furrow as you deliberate. “I don’t know,” you reply after a moment, eyes finally meeting his, your expression steady and searching. “Do you?”

Alex chuckles, more to himself than anything. He can’t help it. Do you think Federer could’ve been a baker instead of a tennis champion? 

“Maybe,” he murmurs, pretending to consider it with the kind of drama that would make any serious philosopher cringe. “But, like... what if he was meant to bake croissants? Imagine that. Best in the world at croissants.”

You laugh, that sharp, sudden burst of sound that’s contagious enough to make him smile, too. “Now that I’d pay to see.”

The hours slip by unnoticed as the clock ticks past one, past two. He’s sure he’s feeling the pull of exhaustion, but somehow it seems to fade into the background as your voice continues to fill the space between you. He fights back a yawn, but you catch it anyway, your lips curling into a soft, teasing smile.

“Tired?” you ask, your voice a little gentler now, almost like a whisper, as though you're suddenly aware of how late it’s getting.

He shakes his head, but his eyes betray him—his lids heavy, the weight of the day finally sinking in. He leans in, slow and deliberate, pressing a kiss against your forehead, a soft promise that he’ll stay in this moment for as long as you need him to. His lips linger there for a moment, warm against your skin.

"Keep talking," he murmurs against your hair, his voice low and content, like he's found a corner of peace in the middle of a busy world.

And you do.

Alex doesn’t get jealous.

Jealousy has never been a part of Alex’s vocabulary. It’s a concept that feels foreign to him—something reserved for those who are unsure of their place, unsure of what they have. Love, to him, has always been something expansive, something that grows when shared freely, not hoarded. There’s no need to stake a claim, to guard it like a precious thing. It’s always been enough to know that it exists, that it flows easily between people who trust each other.

But then he sees you, across the room, your laughter ringing out in the crowded space. It’s warm and light, the kind of laughter that makes the world feel a little less heavy. Lando has said something funny, and you tilt your head back, eyes gleaming with that effortless joy that’s always drawn people to you.

There’s something about the way you glow in that moment, the way the room shifts around you as though it’s orbiting your presence, that unsettles something inside him. He doesn’t recognize the feeling right away. It’s a tightness in his chest, a fluttering he can't quite name. It’s subtle at first, but the longer he watches, the more the feeling takes root—something akin to possessiveness. The kind of thing he’s never felt before. A sudden, uninvited sting that makes his stomach drop.

He knows he has no reason to feel this way. There’s nothing to be threatened by. But as he stands there, a foot away from the crowd, the absurdity of it settles in his chest like a weight. He’s never been this kind of person. Why now? Why this?

The thought flits through his mind, but he pushes it aside quickly. It’s nothing. Just a fleeting moment, a trivial pang. He’s being irrational, and he knows it.

But still, the feeling persists, gnawing at him. Without realizing it, his feet are moving toward you, slow but steady, like he’s being pulled by some invisible force. His gaze doesn’t leave you as he approaches, watching you laugh again, this time at something else—another harmless joke from Carlos this time, someone he has no reason to be jealous of. Still, it doesn’t feel harmless.

As he nears, he slides his arm around your waist, pulling you gently into his side. The move is casual, almost instinctive, but to him, it feels like a reminder—his presence, a quiet claim. The subtle warmth of your body against his calms him, but it doesn’t quiet the strange knot in his chest. His heartbeat quickens as he leans in, pressing his lips to your temple in a soft, almost hesitant kiss, as if to erase the thought that’s been lingering too long.

You turn to him, the corner of your lips lifting in a playful smirk as your brow arches.

“Something wrong?” you ask, eyes dancing with the amusement you always carry when you know he’s thinking too much.

Alex doesn’t answer right away, instead looking at you, feeling the softness of your body against his, the way the tension in his chest slowly begins to ease. He wants to tell you that nothing is wrong, that it’s nothing, but the words get caught in his throat. He can’t quite explain the tightness he felt watching you, the way it wrapped itself around his ribs like a dark cloud. It feels silly now, standing here with you, the feeling dissipating in the light of your gaze.

“Just missed you,” he says, his voice low, a little more vulnerable than he intended. The words are simple, but they carry a weight he hadn't anticipated. He hadn’t meant for it to sound so much like an apology.

It’s not a lie. Not entirely. 

His heart slows as he feels your hand brush against his arm. He doesn’t need to justify the strange surge of possessiveness, but the words come out anyway, a quiet confession in a sea of unspoken things. It wasn’t about him not trusting you—it was about something inside him, a crack in his carefully constructed composure that opened for just a moment. Something he didn’t even know he needed to confront until now.

Your gaze softens, and you smile at him, a knowing expression that makes his chest tighten in a way he can’t quite explain. It’s like you understand the quiet fight he’s had with himself, the things he’s been trying to untangle.

You don’t say anything more, and for a moment, that’s enough. His arm around your waist feels natural again, and the tension slips away, leaving only the sound of your voices and the low hum of the crowd around you. 

Alex realizes, then, that some things don't need to be justified. 

And maybe, just maybe, that’s okay.

Alex doesn’t break his pre-race routine.

Superstition is just logic in disguise. Rituals. Routines. They’re the backbone of everything Alex does. His pre-race routine is meticulous, each step honed to perfection over years of trial and error. It’s superstition, yes, but more than that—it’s a foundation. It’s not just superstition. It’s a foundation, one built from trial and error, trust in repetition, the reassurance that in a world of chaos, some things remain unchanged. 

But in the dying light of the late afternoon, in the quiet of the hotel room, alone with his thoughts, something new is creeping in. It isn’t unwelcome, but it feels foreign, like a shadow that stretches a little longer than it should.

You’re there, barefoot on the cool floor, moving like you don’t quite belong in the stillness of his space. The rustle of your movements barely breaks the silence, but to him, it’s louder than the hum of the city outside. Your presence is soft, gentle, but somehow, it pulls at the edges of his focus. It shifts something inside him—this rhythm he’s relied on for so long, suddenly disrupted.

He can feel your gaze before you even touch him, a heat that builds between you in the quiet, unspoken. You reach for him, just the simple press of your hand against his chest, a reminder of something warm and steady. His body tenses at first, a reflex, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he lets himself sink into the touch, feels the way your palm molds against him. 

“Good luck,” you murmur, voice thick with sleep, and there’s a teasing note to it, like you’re not sure if you’re serious or just making light of the situation. “Don’t crash.”

It’s just a joke. A lighthearted jab at the nerves he can’t escape. But it lands differently now. 

Alex rolls his eyes, half-amused, half-ashamed of the way his chest tightens at your proximity. The tension in his shoulders loosens just a fraction, but he doesn’t step back. Instead, he leans in, his lips brushing your cheek in the most casual of gestures.

He doesn’t pull away right away. His arms slide around your middle, drawing you closer, your body fitting against his with an ease that makes him feel like he’s always known this rhythm. He holds you, just for a second longer than usual, something in the way his breath catches betraying the stillness of his exterior. 

And for the first time, the ritual feels just a little bit different. Not worse. Just... more. More than he expected. More than he knew he could need.

Now, this is part of the foundation. He won’t leave—he can’t leave—until you say something. Until you touch him again. Until you make some offhand comment that calms the nervous hum beneath his skin. 

Alex doesn’t let people see him lose.

Disappointment is a quiet thing. It never yells or demands attention; it sits in the corners, folding itself into the spaces between breaths, hiding beneath the weight of expectation. He’s trained himself to swallow it down, to press it into the depths of his chest where it won’t make a sound. A bad day is just that—a day. It does not own him. He doesn’t let it.

But the weight of it lingers a little longer today. He feels it in the tightness of his jaw, the way his chest constricts with every shallow breath, each one just a little more labored than the last. When he steps into the driver's room, it’s like the air shifts around him—colder, heavier. Normally, the buzz of the team, the hum of equipment being packed up, fills the silence. 

But not today. 

Today, it’s just you—waiting in the stillness, sitting cross-legged on the couch, your presence the only thing that pulls him in. There’s no expectation, no questions waiting to be asked, nothing but the quiet comfort of you being there.

And in that silence, he doesn’t have to wear a mask. He doesn’t have to pretend that the sting of defeat doesn’t hurt, that the weight of letting down so many people doesn’t sit heavy in his bones. He doesn’t have to smooth over the frustration that flares up inside him, wanting to lash out but knowing it would only hurt more. You’re there, and for once, he allows himself to feel it—the quiet ache that’s been building since the race ended.

He exhales deeply, the sound escaping like a slow leak, and finally sinks into the seat beside you. His body feels like it’s made of lead, the weariness pulling him down into the cushions. His head tilts back against the upholstery, and he stares at the ceiling, his gaze unfocused. The lines and cracks of the tiles above blur, just a soft landscape of thoughts he doesn’t want to organize yet.

“You okay?” Your voice is gentle, a thread of concern woven through it, but there’s no pressure. No demand for answers. You let the silence stretch, giving him space to find his words.

He smiles faintly, though it’s a thin thing, barely a curve of his lips. “I’ve been better.” It’s a truth, but it’s not the whole truth. The whole truth would be too much. The whole truth would crack something open he’s not ready to share.

Silence again. 

You don’t rush in to fill it. Instead, your hand slides over his, soft and steady, pulling him from the noise that’s circling in his mind. Your fingers lace with his, a simple connection that speaks volumes. It’s grounding in a way nothing else can be—just the quiet pressure of your touch, the warmth of it curling into the edges of him, easing the sharpness of his frustration.

He turns his palm up, feeling the rough calluses of his skin brush against the softness of yours. It’s a small thing, but the way his fingers curl against yours is almost an instinct—something necessary, something he can’t avoid, even if he wanted to.

“You’re allowed to be upset, you know.” Your words are soft, like they’re meant to ease the weight rather than fix it, and for a moment, the heaviness in his chest lightens just enough to let him breathe a little easier.

“I know,” he says, his voice quieter now, the rasp of it a reflection of the quiet he’s been holding inside. He doesn’t pull away, doesn’t break the connection between you. Instead, he stays there, allowing himself the simple comfort of this moment—the warmth of your hand in his, the silence that wraps around you both, and the fact that, for now, there’s no need to be anything other than exactly what he is in this moment.

He doesn’t have to be strong, doesn’t have to hide the disappointment from you. 

Not here.

Not now. 

In the space between your fingers, he finds something soft enough to hold on to, something he hasn’t allowed himself in a long time.

Alex doesn’t lose his cool.

He’s easygoing, the kind of man who wears patience like a second skin. He’s made a career out of controlling the narrative—on the track, in interviews, even in the most frustrating of moments. He smooths over the rough edges with a joke, a lopsided smile, a charm that’s second nature. But then there’s you—your name trending on Twitter, and the words flashing across the screen: Alex and His Beau: Is it over?

The post is incendiary, speculative, designed to tear apart something people don’t understand. And the worst part? It’s gaining traction. He’s used to the noise, the mindless chatter of fans and critics alike, but this? This is different. His thumb slides over his phone screen as the same words echo in his mind, What’s going on with Alex and his lover? Something’s not right. The words are poisonous, aimed right at you. 

You’re sitting on the couch, eyes glued to your screen, your face an unreadable mask as you scroll through the flood of comments and replies. The room feels too small suddenly, the air too heavy. 

Alex sees it before you even speak, the tightness in your jaw, the flicker of disbelief in your eyes as you scroll, then stop, then scroll again. He doesn’t need to ask. He can feel it. The waves of frustration and hurt you’re trying to hold back.

"Who the hell are these people?" you mutter, a half-laugh, but there's no amusement in it. "And how do they know so much about me when they've never even met me?"

Alex knows this about you—how you handle the chaos, how you confront the worst of it with a joke and a broken smile. He watches your fingers brush over your phone, reading the comments, the well-wishes, the questions, all of it. You look up at him for a brief second, your gaze soft but knowing.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you murmur, and for a second, the tension in his chest unfurls. “We don’t owe anyone an explanation.”

But Alex is not as forgiving as you. 

The venom in those tweets makes his blood run hot. He can feel it in the pit of his stomach, the desire to fire back with every insult, every single thing he’s dying to say. To rip into the faceless cowards who dare to speak about you like they know anything at all. But Alex doesn’t lose his cool. He never does.

Not on the outside, at least.

Instead, he snatches his phone from his pocket, fingers hovering over the keyboard, muscles tense. He’s seen this kind of thing before, heard rumors that have no truth, no foundation. But he can’t help it—his mind races, his heart quickens, and the urge to respond surges like an electric current. He wants to tell the world exactly who you are to him, how these rumors are nothing more than noise. He wants to protect you, to shield you from this distortion of reality. His thumb hovers over his phone screen, ready to type something sharp, something cutting, something to silence the accusations. A few taps, a snarky message sent into the void of Twitter: 

Some people really should stick to things they understand. idk, silence is a great option. 

He hits send before thinking twice.

Then, he stands there, watching you, heart a little tighter than usual. Your lips twitch at the corners, and you roll your eyes, even as you try to stifle a smile. He knows he shouldn't have responded, but damn it, you didn’t deserve any of that, not even for a second.

“Alex…” you start, but you don’t finish. You don’t have to. You already know that whatever else might happen, he’s got your back.

He lets out a breath, shaking his head. “What? You think I’d let them talk shit about you and just sit back? They’ve got the wrong idea, babe. I’ll fight them if it comes to that.”

It’s not a boast. It’s a fact.

You look at him then, and in your gaze, there’s this soft, unexpected vulnerability—a gratitude that you don’t have to say a word to communicate. 

Alex doesn’t lose his cool. 

But for you? He would tear down the whole damn world.

Alex doesn’t make big gestures.

For Alex, love has always been quiet. It’s never been about grand declarations or showy displays. There’s no need for flash mobs or extravagant gestures when something is already understood, already deeply rooted in the everyday. Love, to him, is in the quiet moments—the way you both sip coffee together without needing to speak, the way his hand naturally finds yours when the world feels too loud. He believes in something steadier, more enduring than that. But then there’s you, and suddenly, the rules don’t apply.

He’s standing in line at the airport, the hum of voices around him, the distant chatter of announcements, and he’s holding his boarding pass in his hand, wondering if this makes sense. Less than 24 hours. An absurd turnaround. He only has 48 hours before he needs to be in Shanghai. 

He could have waited. He could have let this trip pass by, just like all the others. But then, there’s you, and the thought of not seeing you for even a moment longer than necessary gnaws at him. So, he’s here, in the airport, wondering if this makes any sense at all.

The line moves forward, but he stays where he is, watching people bustle around him, their minds already halfway across the world. He can feel the exhaustion creeping in—the hours of travel, the missed sleep—but the thought of your face and the way you laugh pushes him forward. It doesn’t matter that he’ll barely have time to sleep before his next flight. It doesn’t matter that it’s ridiculous to rush across the globe for a few hours with you. It doesn’t matter that the world might think he’s out of his mind.

He could have waited. He could have let the distance stretch just a little longer. But the idea of being apart from you for even a few hours is suddenly unbearable.

It’s quiet, too quiet, in the hallway of your shared apartment building. He knocks, his hand lingering on the wood as if it’s too soon, too sudden. But then the door opens, and there you are, blinking at him in confusion, your hair tousled, your eyes still heavy with sleep.

He watches your expression shift—bewilderment to surprise to something else, something soft that tugs at the corners of his heart. The grin that spreads across his face is almost involuntary, and he can’t help the breath of laughter that slips past his lips. “I missed you, baby,” he says, his voice a little hoarse from the early hours, but there’s no mistaking the amusement that laces it.

“You’re insane,” you laugh, your voice light and incredulous, your disbelief apparent, but there's something about the way you say it that tells him you're not mad. Just...surprised. Maybe a little impressed.

Alex just shrugs, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, trying to keep up the cool façade. “Maybe.”

You stand there for a moment longer, eyes still narrowing at him, like you’re waiting for him to crack. And then—just like that—you’re on him, your arms flying around his neck, your lips finding his cheek in a flurry of kisses. They’re warm and a little messy, the kind that can only come from someone who’s missed him as much as he’s missed you. His breath catches, and for a moment, the world feels like it’s been dialed down to a whisper. 

“If this is insanity,” Alex murmurs between your kisses, “I think I’m okay with it.”

You pull away just enough to smile at him, the kind of smile that tugs at something deep in his chest. He watches your lips, the way they curl up, the way your eyes light up with amusement. “Well, you’re certainly out of your mind,” you tease, tapping a finger against his nose, and it’s so ridiculously normal, so familiar, that the knot in his chest unravels completely.

“I can live with that,” Alex says, his grin turning softer, more real. He’s about to say something else when you press another quick kiss to his lips, catching him off guard in the best possible way.

He pulls you closer, arms wrapping around you as he spins you, a laugh bubbling up between you both, the sound a little too loud for the quiet hallway. It feels ridiculous, like something out of a rom-com he’d never admit to watching, but in this moment, he doesn’t care. The world feels right. The ridiculousness of his actions are washed away in the joy of having you close.

If this is madness—if you are the exception to every rule—then maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t mind it at all.