#and then i feel bad for feeling like that because some people have it so much worse than me

[lilianne-tarot]

PICK A CARD: Which Artist Wrote Your Future Spouse? ✮⋆˙

I. II. III.

˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁ ˖

How to Pick Your Pile: Take a deep breath, clear your mind, and look at the images below. Which one pulls you in the most? Trust your gut! Once you choose the image, The number below your chosen image is your pile. If more than one catches your eye, that just means there’s extra tea for you—go ahead and read both!

˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁ ˖

♬⋆.˚Pile l

Ooooh, okay, let’s get into this. You pulled The Magician, Page of Wands, and Ten of Swords—and lemme just say, this is already giving "main character energy meets redemption arc with a spicy twist". Like, your future spouse’s vibe is bold, restless, charmingly reckless at times, but also carrying some deep emotional baggage. So now, let’s spill the tea on which two singers could’ve written their essence into existence.This person has a very "put-together" look, almost effortlessly charismatic and stylish. they might look younger than their actual age or just have that playful, adventurous glow. (seriously, you’ll catch yourself staring for too long)

The Singers:

1. Bruno Mars – Because tell me why this person screams "Grenade" and "Talking to the Moon" energy while also somehow being the embodiment of "24K Magic"? Like, The Magician + Page of Wands together? This is someone who can literally manifest whatever they want and also a very smooth talker😉

2. Shawn Mendes – WELL I TOLD YOU the tortured yet idealistic lover-boy energy is STRONG. This person is the type to run headfirst into love, say all the right things, and make your heart melt, but (and it’s a big BUT) they also struggle with self-doubt and the fear of not being enough because of their bad past perhaps. They have that youthful, adventurous spirit, probably love travel or trying new things, and are always looking for their "great love story" moment.

What This Says About Their Personality:

this person is a natural at commanding attention. They know how to use their charm, words, and presence to get what they want (lowkey, they probably flirt without realizing it—you might have to tell them to chill sometimes. BABY, they love with their whole chest (WHY DOES THIS PERSON SOUND LIKE A KDRAMA 2ND MALE LEAD😭). But the downside? They might have a history of falling for the wrong people or giving their all too quickly, leading to major emotional crashes. Although This person has had their fair share of heartbreaks or betrayals, but instead of staying down, they come back stronger. One thing about them which i see is, They HATR feeling stuck. Whether it's their career, love life, or personal growth, they need movement. Stagnation = death to them. Tbh, they might have commitment issues at first, not because they don’t love deeply, but because they fear getting stuck in the wrong thing again. They believe in deep, soulful connections, but they’re also witty, a bit cheeky, and have a playful side.

Overall they have that mix of "boy-next-door but also lowkey a heartbreaker." Like they could be the flirty lead in a rom-com but also have that deep, emotional intensity. If they walk into a room, you’d definitely notice them, even if they’re not trying to stand out.

˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁ ˖

⟡ ݁₊ .Pile ll

OHHH, okay, i should say this, this spread is givinga "rich daddy aesthetic but also a secret softie"—and I am OBSESSED. This person is so layered, so multi-dimensional that you’re not just getting a future spouse, babe—you’re getting an experience😭. Now, let’s talk about singers.

The Singers:

1. Lana Del Rey – LISTEN. The High Priestess + The World combo SCREAMS "mysterious, poetic, and possibly on a higher spiritual plane than the rest of us." Your future spouse embody a WHOLE DAMN aesthetic. They have depth and an "I know something you don’t" energy that makes people naturally drawn to them. But oh, honey—this is someone who isn’t just vibing in They give off a "tragically beautiful but also rich and successful" vibe. SO LANA CODED.

Althtough i feel like this person has that hardcore LANA aesthetic and i wasn’t going for any other singer for this pile but i am also hearing hoizer???? Cuz look, This is the type of person who might have everything—money, status, power—but they’re still searching for something deeper, and if that ain’t this spread’s energy, I don’t know what is.

What This Says About Their Personality:

This person does NOT spill their secrets easily. They’re the type to just stare at you for five seconds, and you feel like they know all your past lives. It’s giving "intimidatingly intuitive," like you can’t lie to them even if you tried. Probably has a strong work ethic, maybe even runs their own business or is at the top of their field. But here’s the thing—they’re not flashy. They’re rich in a "quiet luxury" way rather than a "LOOK AT MY GOLD CHAIN" way. (Omg i feel like i am writing a wattpad fanfic😭) . they’ve been through enough life experiences to be WISE AS HELL. So that means, ther standards? High. This isn’t someone who jumps into relationships impulsively—they observe, and they only commit when it’s real. This person doesn’t do loud, over-the-top gestures Their love language is probably acts of service and deep conversations over wine while jazz plays in the background. They have a very ‘If You Know, You Know’ Aesthetic (lana reference again💅) They have this untouchable aura. Not everyone gets to see their soft, romantic side, but the few who do? Game over. People are either intimidated by them or completely mesmerized.

So overall, They might seem reserved or intimidating at first, but once they let you in, you’ll realize they’re the kind of person who loves profoundly, protects fiercely, and builds an empire while contemplating the universe. Good luck handling this one, bestie. They’re not for the weak.😀

˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁ ˖

✶⋆.˚Pile III

Your future spouse isn’t just built different—they’re built for the grind, the patience, and the long game. This is someone who knows struggle, doesn’t quit easily, and is out here crafting their legacy.

The singers:

1. Taylor Swift – I mean, COME ON. The Nine of Wands + 7 & 8 of Pentacles? This is someone who has been through battles, faced major setbacks, and STILL got back up every time. Your future spouse has that same relentless work ethic—they’re not the type to sit back and wait for things to happen; they MAKE them happen, even if it takes years. This person has had doubts, failures, maybe even moments where they felt like giving up—but they’re still here, still pushing, still thriving.

2. The Weeknd – Okay, hear me out. This person is obsessed with mastery. They aren’t just working hard for the sake of it—they want to be THE BEST at what they do. This energy is very ‘work now, enjoy later’—like they probably spent their younger years hustling, learning, and leveling up, while other people were out partying. They have discipline, ambition, and an almost obsessive drive to perfect their skills.

What This Says About Their Personality:

This person has been through hell, taken hits, and STILL keeps going. They’ve probably had moments of exhaustion, burnout, or self-doubt, but instead of quitting, they just rest, re-strategize, and come back even stronger. They’re like that one character in a movie who’s bruised, bleeding, and still smirking like ‘That all you got?’ Babe, this person is MARRIED to their work. Like, actually(you’re the third wheel) . They probably live and breathe their career or passion. Late nights, early mornings, constantly improving, never satisfied— this is someone who values progress over comfort. (Have they ever heard of a vacation? Probably not.) So by this you just know, if they are going on dates with you, giving their time to you, you’re the ONE FOR THEM🫠. This person doesn’t half-ass anything. If they’re going to do it, they’re going to do it RIGHT. They have high standards for themselves and expect the same from others. Translation: If you’re slacking, they will side-eye you.

I also see, your future spouse is strategic as hell. They’re not impulsive or reckless—they think ahead, invest wisely, and understand that real success takes TIME. (Financially stable king/queen? Love that for you.) So when they propose you, just know each of their actions were planned weeks before LOL.

˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁˖ ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁ 𖥔 ݁ ˖

Thank you so much for reading till here! I hope my reading resonated with you and you had a good time reading it! Let me know what pile did you choose and i love hearing your feedbacks of my readings♡

Note: tarot cards provide guidance and possible insights into what could happen based on current energies, thoughts, and actions. the cards can highlight potential paths or outcomes, but they do not predict the future in a fixed way. this is a general reading so take what resonates!

[hahashifts]

Hero POV:

It was a simple job - get to the warehouse and clear out some thugs that had been harassing the families on the far side of the river and stealing the money from their already scarce coffers. And with the king increasing rents for the third time this year... if these thugs kept stealing from the cityfolk they'd be starving before the month was out.

What I hadn't expected was to get jumped - literally - and hit over the head from above.

Yeah, someone literally jumped from a roof and landed on me. Whether it was on purpose or accidental there was no telling but all I knew was it hurt like hell and then it was lights out.

Villain POV:

I was enjoying a rather lovely stroll after dealing with some unrest in my territory when I came across a crumpled figure on the sidewalk. I was about to turn down the opposite street and retreat to the nearby gardens when a faint groan came from the figure and a familiar sensation washed over me.

No, surely it couldn't -

"You're such a complete disaster," I groaned, scooping the unconscious little hero off the sidewalk. "Like, holy hell, how does anyone let you out of their sight? Stop picking fights with people you aren't ready for."

She groaned again and her eyes fluttered open. "It wasn't a fight this time," she mumbled, her eyes closing again. "-ust bad luck."

"Uh huh. Bad luck, bad timing, bad judgement - for a hero you're sure bad at a lot of things." I snorted, trying to ignore the warmth that leeched from her into me, as if her light could fill my veins and my chest and restart the rock that resided there.

"If I wasn't so bad at all this I'd rob you of your dashing rescues. Who's the hero now," she grumbled, barely conscious. I knew I needed to keep her talking and awake, check for a concussion.

"Careful, or I'll leave you in the gutter where I found you." I tsked at her, trying to rile her awake a bit more. She could never resist banter in our clashes in the past, it was one of her less known weaknesses.

"No, you won't," she smiled faintly then and if I did still have a heart it may have flown from my chest.

This magical little halfling was carrying a dangerous kind of magic, I reminded myself as I held her just a bit further from my chest. Best not to risk bursting into flames and having us both go up in an inferno because she accidentally glowed too brightly.

I shook my head in exasperation. "You're a mess," I murmured as a breeze wafted down the alley and her hair fluttered around and tickled my nose, carrying with it the scent of her - daylight, moon orchids, and fresh water breezes all came to mind but none could quite capture her.

"Apparently I'm your mess." She grumbled, definitely more awake now than she had been. We were at the crossroads that would lead back to her side of the river, where her light and magic were treasured and valued. She'd be fine to walk the rest of the way home, if she so desired.

"Be that as it may, I'm not always going to be around when you get into trouble. We may have mutual territory in the city we fight over, but leave this side of the river alone. Trust me. Everyone here would rather snuff out your light than accept any help you try and offer them."

"It almost sounds like you're worried for me. Has that frozen heart of yours grown soft after all these years?" She teased and roused herself more. I stopped my walking and set her down on her feet, waiting a few extra moments before I released her from my grip. The absence of her warmth was a physical vacuum around me and I worked my damnedest to bury any sign of my confusion as she got her bearings and realized where she was.

"We got here so fast. It took me nearly fifteen minutes to get to that part of your territory." She admitted as she looked around.

"Long legs," I lied to ease any discomfort she may feel. We got here fast because I'd been too preoccupied with holding her in my arms and listening to her breathing and keeping her awake to keep my speed at a more normal pace.

"Well, thank you, again, for getting me out of there." She scratched the back of her head out of nervousness then winced and it was only the decades I'd dedicated to self control that kept me rooted in place several feet away from her. My instincts all screamed at me to scoop her back into my arms and whisk her back to my home and never let her leave again but I knew that was wrong. Beyond wrong. Especially for someone so filled with life.

"Don't mention it." Was the only reply that felt safe to give. Cold. Detached. Unbothered.

She gave a little half chuckle half huff and turned and started walking across the bridge. She was nearly halfway across when she turned and said, "You know, this is going to make whatever your next dastardly deed is a lot more awkward, now that I know there's so much good in you." She then flashed me a dazzling - and I mean a sun flare hitting my very soul kind of dazzling - smile, then disappeared on the other side of the bridge.

I turned only when she was truly out of my sight and in the safety of the dome and walked back home, ignoring the instincts that screamed at me to run after her and break all the treaties just to walk her to her door.

Absurd sentimentality. The lingering effects from her magic and inner light, no doubt.

“You’re such a complete disaster.” groans the villain, scooping the unconscious hero off the sidewalk “Like, holy hell, how does anyone let you out of their sight. Stop picking fights with people you aren’t ready for.”

[verstappenverse]

oh i think i have a request 🤭 maybe max starts to date reader cause of a bet but he ends up actually falling in love with her…kinda angst but maybe fluffy and happy ending as well?

The Bet and The Fall

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: Max starts dating you on a bet never expecting to fall for you, but as your relationship grows he must confront the fallout of his careless gamble.

4k words / Masterlist

You never thought the end of your year would involve Max Verstappen.

The first time you saw him, he’d been exactly what you expected. Quick wit, easy smirk, and just enough arrogance to carry the weight of his success. He’d walked into the bar with a confidence that commanded attention, his laughter spilling into the room like it belonged there. And maybe it did.

You didn’t think much of him then. He was just another face, another fleeting encounter on a night out. But fate or something cruelly ironic had other plans.

It started with an accident, a spill of your drink when you turned too quickly, bumping straight into him. His reflexes were sharp, of course, the glass never hit the ground.

"Smooth," he’d said, voice tinged with amusement as he set the glass down.

You’d laughed it off, brushing away your embarrassment. "Thanks for the save. You’re faster off track than I thought."

That had earned a raised brow and a crooked grin. "You know who I am?"

"I’m not living under a rock."

Max shrugged, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You don’t look like the type who goes to parties like this.”

Your laugh was genuine, surprising even yourself. “And what does that mean exactly?”

"Nothing bad." he said, watching you closely. "But I’m good at reading people."

"And what do you read from me?"

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just��� you seem like you’re trying to figure out how you ended up here.”

“You’re not wrong,” you admitted, glancing around the room. “I’m here because my friend insisted. Apparently I need to ‘live a little.’”

Max’s smile widened, and there was something disarming about it, “And are you? Living a little?”

You shrugged, feeling oddly at ease despite the absurdity of the situation. “I guess I am now.”

He’d offered to replace your drink, and you’d let him, thinking it was nothing more than a kind gesture. He shifted slightly closer, the noise of the party fading into the background as the two of you talked.

The conversation flowed more easily than you expected. Max was charming in a way that felt unpolished, his humour dry and his smile boyish despite the confidence he carried. He asked questions about you, what you did, where you were from, and he actually seemed interested in your answers.

At some point, you forgot who he was. You forgot that you were talking to someone whose life was splashed across headlines and social media. And when your best friend eventually came to drag you away, Max had looked genuinely disappointed.

When he asked for your number as you were standing up to leave, you hesitated.

"I don’t usually do this," you admitted, handing him your phone anyway.

"I don’t either," he replied, though the glint in his eyes made you doubt that.

Still, he’d texted you the next day and slowly things started to unfold.

What you didn’t know at the time was that across the room someone had been watching the entire interaction with a smirk plastered on their face.

Max had been sitting at a table with his friends earlier that night, a drink in his hand and an argument brewing. It wasn’t unusual competitive personalities clashed even off the track. But tonight Daniel had been relentless, poking at Max’s habits, his so-called inability to "settle down."

"You don’t even know how to date properly," Daniel joked. "I bet you wouldn’t last two weeks with a normal girl."

Max rolled his eyes. "And what does that even mean?"

"It means," Daniel said, grin widening, "you’re all about control. You don’t let anyone in unless you’ve already decided it’s worth your time. Where’s the fun in that? Where’s the spontaneity?"

Max scoffed. "You’re talking like I don’t know how to have a real relationship."

"Because you don’t," Daniel shot back, laughing. "Prove me wrong. Bet you wouldn’t last a month with someone who isn’t already part of your world. No models, no influencers, no one born into racing. A normal person. You’d combust."

Max leaned back, unimpressed. "I could date anyone I wanted."

Daniel’s eyes gleamed with mischief. "Alright, Verstappen. Prove it." He gestured toward the bar, where you stood unaware of their gaze. "Her. One month. Bet you can’t do it."

Max followed Daniel’s line of sight, lips twitching as he took you in. You were laughing at something a friend had said, head tossed back, easy and unguarded. There was no designer handbag, no polished effort to impress.

Max smirked, arrogance slipping easily into his voice. "Easy."

"Oh, is it?" Daniel teased. "She doesn’t look like the type to fall for your usual tricks mate."

"She’ll fall," Max said, confidence unwavering. "They always do."

Daniel arched an eyebrow. "Alright then." He held out his hand. "If you pull it off drinks are on me for the rest of the year."

Max clasped Daniel’s hand without hesitation. "Deal."

What he didn’t anticipate was how easy it would be to approach you or how different you would be from what he expected. When he wandered over to the bar, leaning casually against the counter, he didn’t have to try hard to strike up a conversation. You were warm, quick-witted, and entirely uninterested in the weight of his name.

You didn’t look at him like he was Max Verstappen, Formula 1 World Champion. You looked at him like he was just a guy who spilled your drink and owed you a new one. It caught him off guard, that refreshing lack of pre-tense.

Max had meant for it to be a game, a challenge to prove his point. What he didn’t realise then was that he’d just placed a bet against his own heart. And for the first time in his life, he was about to lose.

Looking back, you’d wonder if you should have noticed the cracks sooner.

Everything felt perfect. Max was attentive, charming, and surprisingly easy to talk to. He wasn’t just the Max Verstappen the world saw he was softer with you, more thoughtful. He’d remember small details, how you liked your coffee, the book you were reading, the song stuck in your head.

He made you laugh too, really laugh, the kind that bubbled up unexpectedly, catching you off guard, leaving your cheeks aching and your stomach fluttering. And when he kissed you for the first time his hands cradled your face, careful and deliberate, like he was afraid you might slip through his fingers if he wasn’t gentle enough. There was something almost reverent about the way he touched you, like he was holding something fragile, something precious, something he wasn’t sure he deserved but wasn’t willing to let go of either, and when he finally pulled back, his forehead resting lightly against yours, his thumb tracing the edge of your jaw, you realised something terrifying.

You had fallen fast, and you had fallen hard.

What you didn’t know was that Max hadn’t expected to fall at all.

A month came and went, but by then Max wasn’t counting anymore. The bet was long forgotten, buried under the weight of late-night conversations, stolen glances, and the way your laugh seemed to echo in his mind long after you were gone.

At first, it was easier to ignore the way something shifted in his chest whenever you were around, the way his mind drifted to you even in moments when he should have been focused. He told himself it was just intrigue, a fleeting distraction that would fade once the bet was over. But then, moment by moment, the reality became impossible to ignore.

It was the way you laughed, unrestrained, unselfconscious. The kind of laugh that made people turn their heads, infectious and full of life. The way you talked with your hands, so animated and expressive that he found so captivating. The way you challenged him, never intimidated by his sharp edges or his reputation, meeting him head-on with quick wit, making him feel like he didn’t have to be Verstappen, the calculated driver, the public figure, with you he could just be Max.

He fell without realising it, like slipping into a warm bath, slow, comforting, inevitable.

The tipping point came on what should have been a regular, quiet evening at your place. You’d insisted on cooking dinner for him brushing off his protests about how he could just order something instead. The kitchen was chaos, vegetables half-chopped, sauce simmering too quickly, flour dusting your shirt, but you didn’t seem to care. You were too busy laughing at yourself, muttering about how you were definitely not cut out for MasterChef.

“Come on Verstappen,” you teased, tossing him an apron. “You can’t be a world champion and not know how to chop an onion.”

Max caught the apron midair, a mock look of horror on his face. “I don’t think that’s in the championship requirements.”

“Well it’s in mine,” you quipped, tying your own apron behind your back. “Get chopping.”

Max leaned against the counter, watching you with an expression that would have given him away in an instant if you’d turned to look at him.

“You’re staring,” you teased after a while.

He smirked. “Maybe I like what I’m seeing.”

You rolled your eyes, but the blush on your cheeks betrayed you.

It was a simple moment, but it lodged itself in Max’s chest like a permanent fixture. He knew then it wasn’t just intrigue or infatuation, he loved you. And that terrified him.

The closer you got, the harder it became for him to bury the truth. He tried telling himself it didn’t matter, the bet had been stupid, something meaningless that had quickly been replaced by something real. But every time he saw the trust in your eyes, every time you looked at him like he was the best thing to ever happen to you, the guilt churned in his stomach.

There were nights he barely slept, lying awake in bed with the weight of it pressing down on him. What if you found out? What if you looked at him with disgust, walked away without giving him the chance to explain? He couldn’t risk it. He couldn’t lose you.

Every moment with you, big or small, was another thread tying him closer to you. He didn’t know how it happened so fast, but he couldn’t imagine his life without you in it. You were his home, his safe place, and he was hopelessly, irrevocably in love with you.

One evening, the two of you sat curled up on the couch in his Monaco apartment, a movie playing in the background that neither of you was paying much attention to. You rested your head on his chest, and he pressed a kiss to your hair, his heart aching with how perfect it felt.

But then you spoke. “You’re quiet tonight. Everything okay?”

The words made his chest tighten. You always noticed. Even the smallest shifts in his mood never escaped your attention.

“I’m fine,” he said quickly, forcing a smile. “Just tired.”

You tilted your head to look at him, your eyes searching his face. “Are you sure? You’d tell me if something was wrong, right?”

The guilt surged, and for a fleeting moment, he considered telling you. The words hovered on the tip of his tongue, but then he imagined the way your expression would change, the way you’d pull away from him, he couldn’t bear it.

Instead he leaned down to kiss you hoping it would be enough to distract you. You sighed into the kiss, your hands finding their way into his hair, and for a moment he let himself believe it was enough.

“I love you,” you murmured against his lips, your voice soft and certain.

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. “I love you too,” he said, his voice trembling with the weight of everything he couldn’t say.

He adjusted the blanket over you and pressed another kiss to the top of your head. “Get some sleep liefje.”

Max buried the secret deeper after that night, convincing himself that it was better this way. You wouldn’t forgive him, he was sure of it, and he couldn’t risk losing you.

But the guilt didn’t go away. It lingered like a shadow, growing heavier with every passing day. He started overcompensating, showering you with affection, he’d buy you flowers every day, plan spontaneous dates, and do anything he could to keep you happy.

And it worked. You were happy. You loved him. And Max loved you so much it hurt.

The fear of losing you consumed him. It drove him to be better, to be the man you deserved, but it also ate away at him. He avoided certain conversations, terrified that you’d somehow stumble upon the truth. He cut Daniel off sharply whenever he brought up the bet, even if you were nowhere near, his tone cold and final.

“Don’t,” he snapped when Daniel jokingly mentioned it in passing. “It’s not funny.”

Daniel raised his hands in surrender, the mere mention of the bet made Max’s chest tighten, the fear creeping back in. He couldn’t let you find out because Max knew one thing with absolute certainty, if you ever did he’d lose you.

No matter how hard he tried the fallout was inevitable.

The night had started out like any other, one of those glitzy, over-the-top events Max had to attend where champagne flowed like water and conversations were laced with artificial charm. You had never particularly liked these parties, but for Max you endured them.

Maybe that’s why you had stepped outside. The ballroom was too loud, too stifling, too full of people who smiled too widely and spoke in half-truths. You had wanted air, a moment to breathe away from it all, and then you heard it.

Max’s voice, unmistakable even in the distance, low and edged with something uncharacteristically uneasy. You followed it instinctively, your heels clicking against the marble floors as you rounded the corner toward the balcony. You weren’t eavesdropping, at least that wasn’t the intention but something in his tone made you pause just before stepping into view.

"I didn’t think it’d go this far," Max said, his voice quiet with exasperation. "It was a stupid bet Daniel. A fucking drunk, meaningless bet. And now I—now she—”

His words cut off abruptly like he couldn't even bring himself to say it out loud, but the damage was already done.

Your heart stopped.

The world seemed to tilt under your feet, the music and laughter from the party fading into white noise. Bet. The word hit you like a punch to the stomach, knocking the air from your lungs.

You didn’t hear the rest. You didn’t need to.

A choked breath escaped your lips before you could stop it, and that tiny sound was enough to break whatever bubble of secrecy Max had been operating in. His head snapped toward you, his eyes widening in alarm as he registered your presence.

"Shit," he muttered, his entire body tensing.

You didn’t wait for an explanation. Your feet were already moving, the panic clawing at your throat as you turned on your heel and pushed past the doors leading inside. You needed to get out.

"Wait—"

Max was already chasing after you, shoving past Daniel, who muttered a quiet curse calling out for Max as he realised what had just happened, but Max didn’t hear him, or maybe he didn’t care. His focus was on you weaving through the crowd as you dodged between people your vision blurred with tears.

When Max found you, you were already halfway out the entrance.

"Wait," he called, his voice raw with panic. "Please just listen it's not what you think—"

"Don’t," you bit out, whirling to face him. "Don’t insult me by pretending this wasn’t exactly what it looks like."

His face crumpled, "It wasn’t supposed to be like this."

"Then what was it supposed to be Max?" Your voice shook, the weight of betrayal pressing down on your chest. "A joke? Something to laugh about with your friends? A game to pass the time until you got bored?"

"No," he said stepping forward, hands reaching for you like he could fix this if he just got close enough. "At first-when we first met I…it doesn’t matter, but not anymore. Not for a long time. I swear, I didn’t mean for this to happen-"

"But it did," you cut him off, voice breaking under the weight of it all. "And you let it happen. You let me believe in this, in you, while you knew—"

"I fell for you too," he rasped, his desperation tangible. "I swear to god, I did. And now I can't—" His breath hitched, words failing him. "I can’t imagine my life without you."

"Stop," you whispered, tears slipping down your cheeks. "You don’t get to say that. Not now. Not when this," you gestured between you, "was built on a lie."

His wiped away his own tear that had fallen. "But we were happy, that was real." he pleaded, voice breaking. "I tried so fucking hard to make you happy everyday, to make everything perfect. Doesn’t that count for something?"

You let out a hollow laugh, shaking your head as fresh pain sliced through you. "No, Max. It doesn’t. Because it was never real. You don’t get to build something on a lie and then act like the good parts outweigh the truth."

He reached for you again, but you stepped back, the distance between you feeling impossibly vast.

"I can't do this, Max. I can't be with someone who—" Your voice faltered. "Someone who made me love them knowing it was never real."

"It is real, I swear I lov-" he pleaded, but you just turned away.

And this time, when you walked away, you didn't look back.

Max tried everything to win you back. Texts, calls, presents, even showing up at your door unannounced. But you ignored him, too hurt to entertain the idea of forgiveness. It wasn’t until over a month later that he finally got through to you.

A knock at your door interrupted the quiet of your evening. You weren’t expecting anyone. And when you peeked through the peephole, your stomach twisted. Max, again.

You hesitated, fingers hovering over the lock, but before you could turn away his voice came through the door, muffled but unmistakably determined.

"I’m not leaving until you talk to me."

You sighed, pressing your forehead against the wood. A couple of weeks ago you would have let him sit there all night. Now, all you felt was confused. But… you unlocked it, pulling it open just enough that you could stand in the door.

"Max—"

"Wait," he cut in gently, his eyes desperate. "Please. Just let me say this."

"I messed up," he admitted, his voice raw with regret. "I know I did. And part of me wishes I could go back and never agree to the stupid bet, to stop it before it ever started." He swallowed hard, his eyes searching yours. "But I can’t. And the truth is… I don’t know if I’d want to."

You reached for the door, but he pressed on.

"Because the bet led me to you. And I don’t regret that. I regret lying. I regret hurting you. But I could never regret you." His voice broke slightly. "I love you. Not because of some stupid decision, but because of who you are."

He took a step closer to the door careful, like he knew he was balancing on a knife’s edge.

"Because of the way you ramble when you're excited. The way you always text me when you see something that reminds you of me, no matter how small. The way you—" He let out a shaky breath. "The way you make me feel like I've finally found something that matters more than everything I ever thought I wanted”

"I know I don’t deserve another chance," he continued, voice softer now. "But if you’ll let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that I’m not the guy who made that bet. I’m the guy who loves you. And I swear, I will never stop trying to be better for you."

Silence wrapped around you both. You swallowed hard, fighting against the warmth creeping into the cracks he had just reopened. "You had months Max. Months to tell me the truth. And you didn’t. You let me find out like that…why?”

His fingers twitched at his sides, and for a long moment he just stared at the ground, his breath coming uneven.

"Because I was scared," he admitted, "scared that if I told you, I’d lose you. That you’d look at me like you did that night, like I was just a mistake you regretted. I kept telling myself I’d find the right time, that I’d make it up to you before you ever had to know, and I fell for you, really fell, and suddenly telling you felt like handing you a reason to walk away."

For all the ways you wanted to stay angry, to hold onto the betrayal, there was something devastating about the way he said it.

"So you lied instead," you murmured.

His lips pressed together, his head bowing slightly. "I did. And it was the worst decision I’ve ever made." His eyes lifted back to yours, full of something desperate. "But I swear to you, losing you showed me exactly what kind of man I never want to be again."

"I don’t know if I can trust you again," you whispered.

Max nodded, no trace of frustration, just quiet determination. "I’ll earn it," he vowed. "No matter how long it takes."

Your gaze flickered to the flowers in his hands. Slowly, hesitantly, you reached out, fingertips brushing against his as you took them.

It wasn’t a yes. Not yet.

But it wasn’t a no, either.

And the way his lips parted slightly, the hope in his eyes you knew he’d wait for as long as you needed. A beat passed before you sighed and pushed the door open wider.

"Come in, just for a bit."

He paused, like he was afraid to move too fast, but the second you stepped back he followed slipping inside. You set the flowers down on the counter, fingers brushing over the petals as you tried to steady yourself.

"You’ve been eating right?" he asked a flicker of that familiar concern in his expression.

You huffed a small, reluctant laugh. "Seriously? That’s your first question after all that?"

Max shrugged, tentative in his smile. "I’ve been worried."

You rolled your eyes, but your chest ached in a way you hadn’t let yourself acknowledge in weeks. You had missed him, his presence, his quiet care, the way he always paid attention to the little things.

"Yes, I’ve been eating," you said, shifting your weight awkwardly.

"Good." He nodded, then hesitated. "Can I—sit?"

You hesitated to, then gave him a small nod. "Yeah. Just… don’t push your luck."

Max smiled at that, he walked over to the couch sitting at the far end, after a moment you sat down to, tucking your legs beneath you. Neither of you spoke at first. The air still felt heavy, but not unbearable. Max rubbed his palms over his thighs, glancing at you before looking away again.

"This is weird," you admitted.

"Yeah," he agreed, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. "But not bad, right?"

You exhaled, staring down at your hands. "Not bad."

His grin widened, "Let’s order something, whatever you want.” his voice dropped, teasing. "Just don’t steal my fries."

"Who says I’d want your fries?" you murmured.

Max smirked. "You always want my fries."

You huffed dramatically, turning your attention back to your phone. "Fine. I’ll order my own. Happy?"

"Not yet," he murmured, the teasing edge in his voice softening into something else. "But I’m getting there."

You chuckled, rolling your eyes, but the warmth creeping into your chest was impossible to ignore. No, it wasn’t forgiveness. Not yet. But later when Max stole a fry from your box, grinning at you like he hadn’t just started a war you realised it was a start, a real one.

[boxoftheskyking]

Might I give some advice:

Not everyone has (or needs to have) the energy to thoughtfully respond to republicans on the Internet. You do not have to do that.

But some people do, and can. And I think we gotta let them.

An example:

I have a former teacher, I'll call her Grace, who is an incredibly kind woman in her 70s. Devout catholic, had voted for various parties over the years, but has been pretty strictly democrat over the past 15-20 because that aligns with her values of kindness and service.

She shared a post about the pope's recent letter and expressed that she agreed with his concerns about how trump is treating immigrants. A friend of hers commented a long paragraph basically saying "dear Grace I care for you but I don't understand how you can be a Christian and a democrat. Blah blah abortion blah blah gender blah blah drugs."

Grace replied "I'm very busy right now but I am going to respond to you soon with my thoughts". When she did it was an incredibly generous, rational monologue that connected with this person's humanity, their shared religious values, and made a beautiful case for why she supports who she does. I didn't agree with a good half of what she said as I am not a Christian, but the result was an expression of values that I think put her on the side of justice and compassion.

The person replied and thanked her and said she had a lot to think about. It was probably the best case scenario for a Facebook politics conversation

You know what came very close to ruining it? A bunch of (mostly younger) people piling on with "fuck you you racist maga pos" and "no one has to explain anything to you, go to hell" etc etc. Even after Grace wrote that she intended to reply herself.

I watched this republican respond to all the easy, quick insults by saying "this is why I don't think any democrats can be Christian, this is how you all speak to me." If Grace hadn't put so much work into writing her response in a way that was tailored to fit this person, I would not be surprised if that person left Facebook doubly certain that Christian nationalism is the way to go.

I'm not saying we can't cuss out jackasses. I'm not saying everyone needs to respond to bad faith arguments like Grace did or use their time like she did.

But this was on Grace's Facebook page, and interrupted the work she already volunteered to do. Just so these individuals could feel like they "did something" and got a shot off at an enemy.

I think that's selfish and childish and unproductive. They could have said anything they wanted in their own space, but they made grace's job harder for no fuckin reason. And then "loved" her reply and said "that was beautiful Grace, thank you for sharing your thoughts"

Like... Buddies. Pals. If someone volunteers to scrub the toilet fucking let them.

[merrinla]

Cut lines from Solas and Rook after Weisshaupt. None of these are voiced, so only text. Some are rewritten in the game.

Solas: You once told me that you would stop the gods without getting "thousands of innocent people killed."

Solas: You once told me that you would accept whatever consequences came from your battle.

Solas: You once told me that the consequences of your battle would be a problem for "Future Rook."

Rook: Yeah.

option: Don't mock me, okay? Rook: Whatever your big trickster-god lesson is, could we just... not? Solas: Why not? What makes this time different? Rook: Weisshaupt? Solas: You have seen death before.

option: I let the team down. Rook: I went to Weisshaupt to stop the gods... with a team of people I'd recruited.

Rook: Davrin, Lucanis, all of them... I convinced them to join. I told them we could win. Rook: And right now, it feels like I lied to them.

option: I was in command. Rook: But I've never been in charge. And this time...

Rook: I punched the First Warden in the face and made everybody listen to me.

Rook: I got the First Warden to listen. I got him to believe in me.

Rook: And then I... I couldn't get it done. I failed. And Weisshaupt fell.

option: This time broke me. Rook: This time, I feel... nothing. Solas: And still you hide your feelings.

Rook: No, I mean... I try to think about what I'm feeling, and I just... there's nothing there. Rook: If I think about what happened at Weisshaupt, I just... stop. Like I could go to sleep and never wake up. Rook: And I can't afford to do that. Solas: Why not? Rook: Because I let everyone down once already. I can't do it again.

Solas: There it is. The grief of having not lived up to the trust that others placed in you. Solas: It is a pain worse than any Elgar'nan or Ghilan'nain could inflict, and if you let it, it can help you. Rook: How?

Solas: There are those who hold their emotions at a distance to avoid the sting of failure. Solas: To defeat Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain, there can be no distance. You must be committed. Rook: What, you think we failed because I didn't want it enough? Solas: I cannot say. But you chose this battle, and in so doing, you chose these consequences. Solas: Regret is the price we pay for acting when no one else will. Solas: Without regret, we would not be driven to correct our mistakes, to improve. To get it right.

option: I'll get it right. Rook: Next time, we won't miss. Solas: I believe you. Solas: And I believe that if you listen to me, then Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain will fall.

option: I don't want to feel this. Rook: It still hurts. Solas: I have lived thousands of years and made countless mistakes. It always hurts. Solas: If you listen to that feeling, perhaps you may never need to feel it again so keenly.

option: I'm not here for this shit. Rook: I didn't come here for your philosophical bullshit. I came for help! Solas: What did you think my help would look like? Solas: I cannot promise that our talks will be easy. All I can promise is that if you listen to me, Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain will fall.

option: I need some support. Rook: Could you be hopeful Solas instead of smug Solas right now. Rook: I don't need you to convince me how bad things are, okay? I get it. I really, really get it. Solas: You have finally met the Evanuris in battle.

option: I have to act confident. Rook: Yeah, we met the gods, and now I have to act like we're not completely screwed and this was a good step forward. Solas: Why? Rook: We lost a lot of Grey Wardens. We lost Weisshaupt. If we lost all of that, and I didn't accomplish anything? Solas: Then what? Rook: Then there's no way I can win. I should just start running now. Rook: But I can't. I have to keep acting like there's some way to win. And that's... terrifying.

Solas: Good. There it is. The fear. Solas: You finally see the consequences. You know the stakes. That fear, the terror of what you face now, can help you, if you let it. Rook: How does admitting I'm terrified help?

option: And I'm in charge. Rook: And somehow, I'm supposed to go up against them again, and everyone is looking to me for a plan. Solas: The plan will come. Once you have marshaled your forces...

Rook: I had a legendary assassin, a dragon hunter, and an army of Grey Wardens, and we still failed! I still failed. Rook: People keep asking me what we do now, and I have no idea. And that is... terrifying.

option: They're too powerfull. Rook: Yeah, and it turns out that when you're fighting a god, terror is a perfectly rational feeling!

Rook: And don't give me that "Evanuris" crap. You can turn people to stone with your eyes! Solas: Yes, and yet I wield far less power than Ghilan'nain or Elgar'nan. Rook: The world is going to end up a blighted wasteland unless I stop them, and... I don't think I can.

option: This is your fault! Rook: No. You don't get to come in here all superior. A whole lot of people just died, and that's on you! Solas: I have made many mistakes, but I did not free Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain. Rook: Fine. Whatever. Solas: No. This is important, Rook. Solas: Your fury is real, but you can only defeat it if you identify its source. Who are you truly angry at?

option: Everyone! Rook: I'm trying to save the world, and everybody's kicking me in the shins while I'm doing it!

Rook: Tevinter and the Antaam would rather fight each other!

Rook: The Grey Wardens wouldn't listen until I punched their leader in the face and took over!

Rook: The First Warden wouldn't listen until the enemy was stomping all over his courtyard!

Rook: I can't do this alone! I need people to shut up and do what I tell them for once, or I'm going to fail again!

option: Ugh. Myself! Rook: I know who I'm angry at. It doesn't matter. Solas: Of course it matters. You must learn who you are.

Rook: The whole world is gonna know who I am! They're gonna make statues of me!

Rook: "In honor of Rook: He/She/They almost saved Weisshaupt!"

option: Bad luck? Rook: I don't know! Fate, luck, something! This whole mission has been one disaster after another. Solas: And how would luck help you? What is it that you need?

Rook: I need a break! I need one damn thing to go right for once! Solas: Because you deserve it? Rook: Because I can't do this! Rook: But if I don't, nobody will. So I've gotta keep banging my head against this wall like an idiot hoping for a miracle!

Solas: There it is. The anger. The frustration at having failed. Solas: Properly channeled, that rage can flare hot enough to burn away any impurities. Rook: Fine! I'm angry! How does that help?

option: We made progress. Rook: I'd hoped we'd take down Ghilan'nain, but we did kill her Archdemon. That's a good start.

Solas: "A good start." I wonder if your fellow Wardens would agree.

Solas: "A good start." I wonder if the Grey Wardens would agree.

Solas: Does this truly feel like even a partial victory, or does something uncomfortable lurk behind that easy smile?

option: No. But being sad won't help. Rook: No, of course it doesn't feel like victory. But that's what leadership is. Rook: It's putting your own feelings aside so the team doesn't collapse. Solas: And what is so dangerous that the mere sight of it would destroy your team? Rook: That I was wrong.

option: I'm tryung to believe. Rook: It has to feel like a partial victory. If it doesn't...

option: I need to seem confident. Rook: How do you think I feel? But the team needs me to look like I know what I'm doing. Solas: And what do you need?

option: Thanks, Past Rook. Rook: Sounds like something Past Rook would say. He's/She's/They're kind of an asshole.

Solas: (Chuckles)

Solas: You use humor a great deal.

Solas: "The elven god of sarcasm."

Solas: "This is the reason nobody likes you."

Solas: "Killing an Archdemon is the easy part."

Solas: Is all of this really so amusing, or is that wit the blade with which you keep less comfortable feelings at bay?

option: It's that or cry. Rook: I'm doing the best I can to hold it together. Sometimes that means stupid jokes. Solas: And when those fail? Rook: Then I probably start ugly-sobbing. Snotty nose, blotchy face, the whole deal. Solas: Why? You are no stranger to death. You have seen warriors fall in battle before.

option: It's that or panic. Rook: Well, I don't think uncontrollable screaming is gonna help anything, and that's the only other option. Solas: Uncontrollable screaming at what?

option: It's that or rage. Rook: Yeah, there's a pretty good chance the jokes are how I cope. Solas: And beneath those jokes? Rook: Why does that matter? Would me yelling right now help anything? Solas: It might help you know who you are.

option: It's a lot to accept. Rook: I was thinking I'd be accepting hurt feelings, not a whole fortress falling to darkspawn. Solas: Sometimes the hurt feelings are worse.

option: I guess? Rook: Weisshaupt could've fallen without us killing Ghilan'nain's Archdemon. That would technically be worse. Solas: Technically.

option: That's still true. Rook: And I stand by that. Solas: Truly? You watched a fortress fall and Wardens die, and it touches nothing within you?

Solas: I expect that you call it professionalism.

Solas: No hesitation. "We stopped you. We'll stop them."

Solas: No concern. Just targets. "Any other surprises we should know about?"

Solas: What are you so desperate to avoid feeling?

option: Numb. Rook: Nothing. Solas: So no fear, no anger, lurks beneath the surface?

option: Terror. Rook: Ghilan'nain was so much worse than anything I expected. She's a god.

option: Fucking furious. Rook: I am so fucking tired of being the one who has to do this while the rest of the world ignores the problem!

Solas: And while your grief is valid, the situation is not as dire as it seems.

Solas: And while your fear is valid, the situation is not as dire as it seems.

Solas: And while your frustration is valid, the situation is not as dire as it seems.

Solas: You have slain an Archdemon, a feat only a few have accomplished over the centuries. Solas: Ghilan'nain is now mortal. If you can find her and catch her unprepared, you can kill her. Rook: So how do I find her? Solas: Your team has ties to organizations with connections you lack. The Shadow Dragons in Minrathous, the Veil Jumpers in Arlathan, and so on. Solas: Strengthening your team will strengthen those groups. Prove your value as an ally, and they will give you the openings you seek. Rook: Okay, I'll see what I can do. Solas: Good. And Rook... I am sorry for the necessity of this lesson.

option: No, I appreciate it. Rook: You don't have to apologize. I know you're trying to help, so... thanks. Solas: Don't. Don't thank me. Solas: Our talk today will lead to Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain falling, but it is not a kindness. Solas: Good luck.

option: It's not wholly unexpected. Rook: You talk with the Dread Wolf, you gotta be prepared to bleed a little. Solas: A painful assessment, but more than fair, especially today. Solas: If I knew some other way to prepare you for what lies ahead, I would do so.

option: Whatever. Goodbye. Rook: We're done here. I'll talk to you when I know something. Solas: Of course. Then I will simply wish you good luck.

[skinny2tb]

Ohh okok let me cook.

Food visualizer (soo helpful imo), Amazon, I literally searched up some recipes for 'italian appetizers' since I cooked a 3 course-dinner for my parents today, a pro 4n4 website

2. People like this actually exist?? Hell no.

3. Very down lately but I'm looking forward to summer and watermelon season.

4. In my parents house.

5. Sadly yes, I had to tell someone about it because keeping it a secret literally destroyed me.

6. Absolutely not and I never will. Truly sad that some people have to go this far just for some attention, I almost feel bad..

7. You never know, ig? I try my best to be nice to everyone, but you never know the secretly hatred feelings someone has towards you.

8. I used to yeah but luckily she's out of my life now.

9. ONE?? Ohh..my phone, my diary, my wardrobe.

10. My parents and some of my closer friends tell me that I'm a good singer/cook.

11. Unpopular opinion BUT small asses and boobs. Way easier to carry around!

12. I meeean kinda? Like I haven't had s*x yet but everything else.

13. My grandma would've never hated anyone I like.❤️

14. Ambivert. But extroverted with the right people.

15. Tumblr and TikTok (guiltyy)

16. I can proudly say none!

17. 3d wise: any kind of fats and too much cals. But in general just heights, the dark, WASPS and spiders, clowns and being loved.

18. Skip prom because I thought I looked ugly on that day. Soo sorry for my dance partner, who somehow still has a massive crush on me. Atp he's obsessed.

19. Ohh I used to be a big liar so I really don't know about this one..probably for years ago that I had a bf. To my best friend. For a whole year.

20. Nowadays? Abso-fucking-lutely! A few years ago? Idk..not really.

“I have nothing to hide” Asks

(For those daring enough to reblog)

1. What are 4 tabs that you have open on your browser right now?

2. Have you ever thought about seriously harming someone?

3. How are you feeling emotionally right now?   

4. What type of place(Like building) are you in right now?       

5. Does anyone know your deepest, darkest secret?

6. Have you ever tried to feign mental illness for personal gain?

7. Do you have any enemies?

8. Do you have any people you only pretend to like?

9. What is one item that you never let anyone besides yourself look at or in?

10. Do you have any talents that people say you have but you don’t believe you actually have?

11. Something you like that other people generally do not like?

12. Are you a Virgin?  

13. Is there anyone that your grandma would hate that you are subscribed to on youtube?

14. Introvert or extrovert?

15. What is the most used application on your device?

16. How much fan fiction have you actually read?

17. Worst Fears?

18. Biggest mistake you’ve ever made?

19. Worst lie you’ve ever told?

20. Do you consider yourself a trustworthy person?

[magnecalliope]

I think the size of the Kingdom vs the Honey Badgers is indicative of the way that Foolish and Bad treat the mortals around them. Disregarding of the fact that both of them have admitted they don't really feel bad about dragging bystanders into their quarrels for a second, they both have very different modes of interacting with the world around them.

Foolish, for example, is friendly and personable. He makes an effort to be diplomatic, to make everyone feel included and welcome whether they are part of his faction or not. Even if his relationships are only skin deep, people can't help but fall a little in love with him. He's the life of the party, the host everyone wants to hang out with. It's easy to say yes to someone like that when they ask you to join their team.

Bad, on the other hand, is more closed off, holding people at arm's length. His relationships tend to be more transactional, and he can be downright nasty to even those he considers allies. Despite keeping a relatively friendly tone he frequently says offputting things, either to shock or because he is genuinely just that disconnected from social mores. Even if he's a brilliant tactician and strong ally, he's just not the kind of person most normal people would want to be around.

Foolish loves to surround himself with mortals like they are his playthings. They're collectibles. And sure, he'll be a little sad if they break, but he can always get new ones. Bad treats them more like tools. What does it matter if he only has a couple allies as long as those allies fulfill their purpose? But the thing is that some tools are so specialized, that their value is incalculable. They can't easily be replaced, and their loss is that much more devastating when it happens.

[rotagnus]

WHY YOU'RE A BAD BITCH.

pick a pile you feel drawn to. if you do not feel drawn to any, maybe this pac is not for you. trust your FIRST gut instinct. do not overthink it.

--

i didn't expect to make this pick a pile but i had a feeling that some people have been down in the dumps recently (as have i) and this would help the both of us.

-1. you're the epitome of elegance. you may not realize it, because you believe yourself to be a rather crude and perhaps blunt individual, but you do have a graceful femininity around you (whether you're male or female). think of the beauty of swans. your tongue is sharp and your wit is bright, and that fire emanates from your very looks. you're absolutely gorgeous--angular faced, maybe with almond eyes. you carry the steadfast power that horses do, galloping in fields. you're wild and free, and oftentimes people, specifically men, try to tame you. but you're a free person, and you don't take shit from NO-BO-DY. you can be read as intimidating and maybe cold, but the truth is you don't tolerate disrespect. you are strong. you get whatever you want, baby, all for good reason. <3

-2. your presence is SOOOO sooo felt. you underestimate how much people love you. the truth is there's a certain quality for you that just makes people adore you. you have a very unique personality and a very unique look to you (dyed hair, piercings, noticeable features, et cetera) and you flaunt this without feeling any shame about it. your confidence attracts people to you--you may not always feel confident but you're able to show it, and you BECOME it. you thrive with the right people, and this is seen as addicting. people want to be close to you and they can become obsessed with you (which can be a double edged sword). you shine so much, and your smile is to die for. TO DIE FOR.

-3. you have a melancholy heart and you're so sensitive to the suffering of everyone else. people want to take care of you and protect you. i think you're rather insecure about several aspects of yourself because people have recognized your glow, but not many have made it brighter. the qualities you have that would normally be fawned over are cast away. but you're a bad bitch regardless babe! your power is in your quietness. you give energy to people who deserve it. your presence is a mystery and you're like pandora's box. once somebody actually wants to get to know you, you open up and you have this beautiful way of being vulnerable, it makes people feel honored and trusted. you'll meet a lot of people later in life who want to be your knights, protect you. your softness makes you a bad bitch!! don't let anyone step over you.

-4. you have DISCIPLINE, darling pile 4. you want something? you work for it! you want to earn more cash? you work for it. you want to get healthier? you WORK for it! not only that, but you have a very beautiful figure--maybe on the thicker, curvier side. you probably have long hair, maybe curly, and GOD you're gorgeous. both of these qualities make you sooo irresistible. you're, by nature, a very caring person and people feel like they can open up to you. you don't make anybody feel ashamed about their emotions and you do care. this quality isn't normalized a lot in our society--you probably don't like being online very much, and you're a very real person. you have depth.

-5. you're very coy and you have this enticing, film-like quality to you. people feel like they're starring in some movie when they're with you. you accessorize a lot. you also have a tendency to fawn over people--you center them in a way that might be detrimental to yourself if you overdo it, but when you don't--you make people like you a lot. you probably have gorgeous, darker features. you remind me of a black cat, and you probably attract a lot of golden retriever like people into your life. you mighta went through something in your youth, but you're glowing and you don't let that drag you down. you're WORTHY. you're amazing. don't forget it babe.

-6. you've got a bit of a mischievous flair to you. you're a very funny person and you're QUICKKK to snap back with comebacks if need be. you don't dim your glow for anybody and you take pride in your roots. you may have a deep connection with your ancestors or members of your family, and there may be some generational trauma to unpack but that doesn't mean you can't find strength in your blood. you may have black hair and prominent nose--not necessarily big, but it's one of your prettiest and most noticed features. you have a warm presence that people suck up to. you're friendly and this quality makes people flutter over to you. your vibe is IMMACULATE.

[stringofswineteeth]

It is disrespectful to use a tragedy as a self marketing backdrop, and he's clearly demonstrated some really appalling behavior.

However. I don't think it is appropriate to speculate about sociopathy, nor is it appropriate to equate sociopaths with evil, harmful, or uncaring, it's a brain difference that impacts how you interact wiith the world, not a sentence to being awful or a synonym for lack of consideration for others.

I also feel like the focus here on how he outwardly reacted being inappropriate isn't really great because it's hard to know what people are experiencing internally. ( I know from experience, being treated all kinds of ways based off an interpretation of my presentation that didn't match my internal world)

None of this is to defend him, at all, I just think its important that when calling people out we don't pull others down with them, or insult unrelated things, as we have the advantage of being on the side of truth, we don't need to exaggerate or pick things apart uncharitably that we might otherwise let slide.

Also though, there are absolutely innocuous things that when combined with other things that could be hand waved away as a bit odd paint a larger, much more concerning picture, and that seems to be what's happening here. So I don't disagree with the callout, I just worry a bit about the implications of the phrasing or not being extremely careful about how it's framed.

So. I don't think this is a post that shouldn't've been made. I just wanted to express some concern about being careful with phrasing ig. Not that I even know a way I'd phrase it that would be free from things that could be interpreted in bad faith, even if I could address those points individually

[777rare]

12TH HOUSE OBSERVATIONS PT.1

THESE NOTES ARE ONLY A STUDY OF MINE AND HAS/HAS NOT BEEN PROVEN YET, SO IF IT DOES NOT RESONATE WITH YOU, FORGIVE ME AS IT WAS ONLY A STUDY/OBSERVATION OF MINE.

I DO NOT PLAGIARIZE, COPY OR REWORD ANY OF MY FELLOW ASTROLOGY OBSERVERS POSTS AND I DEMAND THE SAME IN RETURN.

This post will only be about the studies I've done on the 12th house since that house fascinates me the most out of all the houses in astrology. When it comes to the 12th house, I will also be talking about Neptune and Pisces since they are deeply connected to this house. Even Jupiter is the lord of the 12th house but Neptune qualities are more at prominent with this house.

���� In astrology the 12th house represents:

the bed

hospitals

monasteries

foreign lands

secrets

subconscious mind

sleep

dreams

jail, imprisonment

mental asylum

isolation

past lifetimes

Ancestors

past life karma

confined places

the feet

bathroom

large animals like elephants

forests

the unknown

bondage

lifespan and death

bed pleasures

the root chakra

unexpressed emotions

Fake names/identities formed to hide another

The need for Solitude or just solitude in general

Relief work/ how we help others

Some sort of Weapon used against us

🩸Those who have 12th house and/or pisces placements and/or stellium are :

Compassionate

Sensitive

Mystical and mysterious

emotional

Dreamy or a dreamer

Always alert

Individuals with high levels of awareness

Delicate

Merciful and soft-hearted

Lenient

Pitiful

Prone to addictions

🩸I have observed that the 12th house is like a bottomless pit. The 12th house is like a dream, no end and no beginning. Since even Jupiter is the ruler of this house, he enlarges the qualities of planets sitting in this house but because of Neptunes severe prominence, though everything is enlarged, everything is also lost in a heavy fog.

🩸The 12th house is a place of complete darkness, like a black hole. Whatever goes into the black hole disappears in thin air, as if it never existed to begin with. Planets that sit here often have their effects go unrecognised by others in natives.

🩸There is a lack of recognition of the subjects related to the planet in the 12th house, in a persons chart, by others.

Examples:

•A native having mercury in the 12th house is smart, even if it's not in a geeky way, but others often assume them to be dumb.

•A native having moon in the 12th house or pisces are quite understanding people who do care about how others feel but this often goes unrecognised and people assume they care less about how others feel. These individuals are actually very emotional in private.

•A native having Venus in the 12th house actually love very very deeply once they begin loving someone and wish for the deepest intimacy possible with them but they are often termed as heartbreakers and flaky people (the zodiac matters too) who ghost their partners. I have this placement too and so many people have called me a heartbreaker even though I have actually never dated due to my fear of betrayal and have never had anyone confess their feelings for me.

Short story: I did fall in love with someone I was friends with for the first time and I loved that person so so much to the point I waited for 3 years to finally ask them to be mine but I was friendzoned, and then given insane amounts of mixed signals and then realised I was being played with cuz that person dated so many girls at one go and all of them were my friends. It took me 3 years to get over that person. I still think of them though but that's far from the point.

•Natives having 12th house and/or Pisces stellium are the ones who feel everything, even that which cannot be seen, felt, or heard. They are the black sheep in the crowd and no matter how much they fit in with a group, they tend to feel left out or less significant.

These natives have their mind locked up with their demons so their minds are tortured and always overthinking the tiniest of things even though nothing bad is happening.

They often contemplate so much and have an infinite amount of questions when it comes to the truth of life, existence and all things universal. 12th house and/or pisces stellium natives are also the people who appear and disappear Outta nowhere...by this I don't mean just physically, I mean emotionally, mentally, spiritually, energetically and so on.

These natives tend to get lost very easily and often wander around, just admiring existence and nature. These natives love love loveee spending time alone with nature. You can't pin them down because they never touch the ground, they're always in the clouds, dreaming and living the pinterest life in their head.

They also quite dramatic in nature, like drama queens or kings, lol. No doubt, these individuals are spiritual and highly imaginative. These natives are also misunderstood and are emotionally and/or mentally isolated from the human race.

They often desire to leave Earth and fly away to space. This is a huge indicator of a starseed. These people are drawn to extra terrestrial beings and the unknown. Their curiosity runs as deep as the bottomless pit.

•What a 12th house stellium, pisces stellium, and/or mercury retrograde would say when asked to explain their feelings:

"I cannot make you understand. I cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me. I cannot even explain it to myself" - Franz Kafka (giving credit)

•How Venus in 12th house people love:

"In a language so old that even the Earth no longer remembers."

•How a person with a 12th house stellium would label themselves:

"People label themselves with all sorts of adjectives. I can only pronounce myself as 'nauseatingly miserable beyond repair'." - Franz Kafka (giving credit)

As a pisces venus (in the 12th house), It is not easy for us all pisces venus natives out there to fall in love and fall out of love with someone...we do find many attractive due to us admiring mostly anything around us but falling in love is a huge deal for us.

We don't just decide to fall in love with someone cuz we find something attractive in them, we value companionship and depth more than anything ( if you have earth sign placements mainly).

So falling in love is extremely soul crushing for us...and falling out of love? Nuh-uh, never happens...we never fall out of love with the person we fall in love with.

No matter how many years pass by, we will maybe accept fate and move forward in life but our heart has a special place for that person we once spoke with....for us, love is more of a painful tragedy that pushes us to sacrifice what we need the most and that weirdly makes us softer as we grow.

When you tell us to move on from someone or convince us that that person we love is not worth it, we wouldn't listen to you cuz when it comes to the matters of the heart, we never listen to anyone but ourselves...our inner voice.

To us love is never wasted because to us love does not rest on reciprocity. We will love with all our heart and no matter how hard our heart breaks, our heart heals back to a stronger one with an unwavering heartbeat that stops at nothing.

The effects of 12th house and the 8th house placements are quite similar but very different at the same time. There is extreme intensity and depth with these houses but the 12th house is much deeper and darker than the 8th house.

Anyways, Thankyou so much for turning in!

I hope you enjoyed this post about the 12th house😊 I will be posting a part 2 as well because I reached the word limit, but again thankyou for your time! ❤️🌻 I hope you all have a bright day ahead!

[twistedpink]

nsfw below the cut! 2 1

The format is Character/Length (in inches)/Bedroom Skill

Rook Hunt - 4 - 6/10

-His only sexual education is very much “Rabbits make more rabbits” but his romance is to die for!!! You won’t even have to ask to be indulged- all you have to do is say yes :)

-Rook is astonishingly well groomed for someone who works on their feet. The spare hours of self care he gets between his beauty sleep and people watching does wonders for any sport-stenches (I mean, unless you’re into that kind of thing). He’s always doing something with the “presentation of his undercarriage”, and isn’t afraid to let you cop a feel in public!

-He’s all about experimentation with your pleasure, and it’s not that he refuses online resources, but isn’t it so much better naturally? Where’s the sense of adventure if some stranger on the internet is telling you where to touch him? After lots, (loads, really) of trial and error, he’s sure you’ll get a sense of rhythm. It’s never too early to start exploring!

Idia Shroud - 7 - 3/10

-Everyone can agree that Idia is too big for his own good. Massive, really- And he hates it. He’s been perma banned from the most comfortable thing on earth! How’s he supposed to enjoy going commando when his tip’s out in the open??

-He does NOT know how to use the monster in his pants, but he’s not objecting to a teacher :) When you first start getting “active” he’s painfully professional about it. No eye contact, no problem! You’ll wear him down eventually, but it’ll take awhile for anything truly intimate,,

-The worst thing about sex with Idia is the need. White-hot and throbbing, but so infrequent!! His libido is SO high, always pawing at you after school, but he can’t hold back for the life of him :/ Ten full minutes of rest for another three of penetration? Oh no, your only option is to overestimate him,, whatever shall he dooooo

Malleus Draconia - 3 - 7/10

-Two words. FUCKIN MARATHONS!! Malleus is comically bad at anything sexual- and you’re the one who has to initiate most things, but he can go hours without any pain between the two of you! And the AFTERCARE?? 10/10. Imagine playing with his scales while you wait on breakfast in bed <333

-Malleus is far too big for any usual quicky spots, but nobody can compete in forced proximity! It’s so easy to drag him into a broom closet between classes- Everyone avoids him anyways, and because he very rarely slouches he has to in the confines of your rendezvous, so it’s a completely new angle!

-He’s a little (lot) inexperienced, but he’s learning so much with your help! Nobody questions that he keeps his nails short or demands chapstick whenever he recalls the time, because nobody questions Malleus Draconian. He’d like very much for you to change that- order him around, kiss him bloody! So long as it’s you he’ll be happy :)

Lilia Vanrouge - 5 - 8/10

-Lilia’s a believer of “it’s the motion of the ocean - not the size of the wave”, and he KNOWS his ass has motion. All these years working on his core and arms only to be reduced to some petty slut :/ It’s all he’s ever wanted!

-Doesn’t bother shaving, nothing on him grows quickly enough for regular maintenance, and that does include his sex drive :( He wakes up sweaty and shaking whenever he ignores his rarer urges, but he’s lucky enough to have you! You’ll indulge him for a little biting, won’t you? Not his fault if you want more,,

-He’s a MASSIVE whiner, but he knows you loveeee it <3 All these years muffling his voice for colleagues and kids, it’s a miracle to have soundproof walls! With his little bouts of energy, you won’t be leaving bed anytime soon- lay back and let him cook for you! Or maybe you’d rather he just eat?

(no full proofread until tmr, we die like Malleanor)

[evermoreness]

wingman | james potter

pairing: james potter x reader!

summary: james definitely has a crush on you, but he won't admit it. so his best friend sirius steps up to be his wingman.

masterlist

If Sirius Black had one true passion in life—aside from pranks, Quidditch, and being generally insufferable—it was meddling. Specifically, meddling in James Potter’s disastrous love life.

The problem wasn’t that James lacked charm. No, James was overflowing with charm, much to the dismay of every professor at Hogwarts. The problem was that James refused to acknowledge that he had feelings for you—his best friend, his ultimate rival, his favorite person to annoy.

And, as Sirius often pointed out (loudly, in the middle of breakfast), you were just as bad.

Which is why, after months of watching you and James dance around each other with an infuriating amount of tension, Sirius decided enough was enough.

It was time for some intervention

Step number one

It started in Transfiguration.

You strolled into class, fully expecting to take your usual seat next to Lily, but before you could sit, a strong arm slung around your shoulders.

“Ah-ah,” Sirius drawled, spinning you around and gently shoving you into the seat next to James instead. “New seating chart, love. Professor's orders.”

You frowned. “Professor McGonagall never changes the seating chart.”

“She does now,” Sirius said, smirking before plopping down beside Lily, effectively blocking your escape route.

You turned to James, who was lounging in his chair, grinning like the cocky little git he was. “Look at that. You’re stuck with me.”

You groaned, turning to Sirius. "You look suspicious"

"When do i not?" Sirius said, grinning like he was planning something.

"Fair point." You said, before turning to James. “Merlin help me,”

James gasped dramatically, clutching his chest. “How dare you? I am an absolute delight to sit next to.”

“You poke people with your quill and hum off-key when you’re bored,” you shot back.

“I serenade,” he corrected.

“You butcher perfectly good songs.”

James leaned in, his face just a little too close, and smirked. “Admit it. You’d miss me if I wasn’t here.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring the way your heart did a stupid little flip. “Sure, Potter. I’d be devastated.”

“You could just admit you love spending time with me,” James offered.

You scoffed. “Or I could stab you with my quill.”

James leaned in, lowering his voice to a teasing whisper. “Kinky.”

McGonagall just ignored them all, she had learned a long time ago she couldn't keep up with the Marauders antics. So she just let them. It was best for her mental health. But she still could hear you and James bickering every time she turned to write something on the black board.

James, completely unbothered, leaned closer to you, elbow on the desk, chin resting on his hand. “Well, you heard the professor. We’re partners now. Best get used to staring at me all class.”

You rolled your eyes, flicking his forehead with your quill. “Merlin, you wish I stared at you.”

James grinned. “You’re staring at me right now.”

You huffed. “Because I’m contemplating how best to Transfigure you into a ferret.”

Sirius cackled from behind you. "Oh, young love" he said, making you and James glare at him.

"Don't you have a boyfriend to annoy or something?" James asked, rolling his eyes.

"Remus is recovering from the full moon, idiot" Sirius said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He was about to say something more but McGonagall glared at the three of them.

McGonagall sighed again. “I don’t get paid enough for this.”

At least, step one of Sirius' plan was definitely a success.

Step number two

The next part of Sirius’s plan required a little more... creativity.

Which is how you and James ended up in detention, standing outside McGonagall's office, glaring at a very pleased Sirius Black.

“Explain. Now,” you demanded.

Sirius shrugged. “Professor McGonagall may have received an anonymous tip that you two were planning to sneak into the kitchens after hours.”

“We weren’t,” you said flatly.

“Well, you should’ve been,” Sirius said, looking entirely unbothered. “Really, it’s your own fault for being so predictable.”

James groaned. “For Merlin’s sake, Padfoot.”

“Oh, don’t act so ungrateful,” Sirius scoffed, draping an arm around James’s shoulder. “I’m simply giving you both what you want. Quality time. Candlelit settings. Romance.”

“You’re sending us to detention,” you deadpanned.

“Exactly.” Sirius grinned. “Do you know how many legendary couples started with forced proximity? This is the perfect setup.”

James scoffed, running a hand through his already-messy hair. “You’re delusional.”

“And you are hopeless.” Sirius turned to you, wiggling his eyebrows.

You crossed your arms. “And what exactly do you gain from this?”

“An evening of uninterrupted flirting, obviously.”

James scoffed. “We don’t flirt.”

Sirius blinked. “Right. And I’m the Minister of Magic.”

Soon enough, Sirius was gone, and McGonagall assigned the two of you to polish the entire trophy room. Without magic. Which was, quite frankly, a crime against wizardkind.

“I think I’ve inhaled enough dust to choke a hippogriff,” you muttered, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn smudge.

James, sprawled dramatically on the floor, groaned. “This is actual torture.”

You snorted. “Oh, please. You’ve been lying there for twenty minutes. I’m doing all the work.”

James grinned lazily. “I’m providing emotional support.”

“Oh, how noble.”

“I try.”

You rolled your eyes and flicked a damp rag at him. He yelped as it smacked him in the face.

“Oi! That’s rude.”

“I’m so sorry, did I offend the Great James Potter?” you said, smirking.

James leaned on his elbow, smirking right back. “Oh, love, you offend me constantly.”

“And yet, you keep coming back.”

James’s smirk faltered for half a second—just long enough for you to notice.

His hazel eyes flickered over your face, something softer in them now. Something that made your heart do a completely unnecessary little flip.

Before you could overthink it, James groaned and rolled onto his back dramatically. “I cannot polish one more bloody trophy.”

“You’ve polished one,” you pointed out.

“Exactly!”

You snorted. “Oh, poor baby, suffering through a whole hour of detention.”

James gasped, clutching his chest. “You wound me.”

“Oh, shut up and hand me the polish.”

But James didn’t move. He was staring up at the ceiling, brows furrowed.

“Oi. Potter. Earth to James.”

James blinked and turned his head to look at you.

“Have you ever thought about it?” he asked suddenly.

You frowned. “Thought about what?”

He hesitated. Then smirked. “How gorgeous I am.”

You groaned. “Oh, for the love of Merlin—”

“I mean, really,” James continued, grinning now. “It must be exhausting for you, being constantly exposed to this level of handsomeness.”

“Exhausting, yes,” you said dryly. “Mostly because of your ego.”

James laughed, and it was so genuine, so warm, that you almost forgot why you were annoyed in the first place.

Almost.

By the time detention ended, you were both covered in dust, exhausted, and slightly delirious.

You both stumbled out of the trophy room, stretching like freed prisoners.

“Well, that was awful,” James said cheerfully.

You sighed dramatically. “If I never see another trophy again, it’ll be too soon.”

James turned to you, smirking. “You know, we should really thank Sirius for this.”

“Oh, absolutely,” you deadpanned. “Maybe hex him as a thank-you.”

James grinned. “You do have the best ideas.”

You smirked up at him. “I know.”

James’s smirk softened slightly. His hazel eyes flickered down to your lips—just for a second.

Your heart definitely did not stutter. Absolutely not.

Neither of you spoke for a moment.

Then James cleared his throat. “So.”

“So,” you echoed.

James shifted on his feet, then suddenly grinned. “Race you to the common room?”

You snorted. “Please. You’d lose.”

James gasped. “Oh, is that a challenge?”

You smirked. “You tell me.”

James took a step closer. “Winner gets bragging rights.”

You took a step closer. “Loser has to buy Butterbeer next Hogsmeade trip.”

James grinned. “Deal.”

He started running before even counting to three, and you really tried to get into his pace but he was much faster than you. James got in front of the painting that guarded the Gryffindor common room, breathless, you got there second, just by some seconds of different.

James grinned, looking far too smug. “I win.”

You gaped at him. “That’s cheating!”

“Strategic advantage, love.”

“Oh, you’re insufferable—”

James laughed, grabbing your hand and pulling you toward the common room. “Come on, loser. You owe me a Butterbeer.”

You groaned, but you were smiling. “You’re impossible, Potter.”

James squeezed your hand. “You love it.”

And, Merlin help you, maybe you did.

Step number— Intervention!

By the end of the week, you had reached your limit.

You slammed your hands down on the Gryffindor table, glaring at Sirius. “I know what you’re doing.”

Sirius, mid-bite of toast, blinked innocently. “Doing what?”

“Every time I turn around, James is right there. Transfiguration. Potions. Detention.”

Sirius smirked. “Weird how that keeps happening, huh?”

You jabbed a finger at him. “Admit it.”

Sirius leaned back lazily. “Admit what? That my best mate is tragically in love with you and needs a little push?”

James, who had just sat down, immediately choked on his pumpkin juice. “SIRIUS!”

You and James turned bright red at the same time.

“I—You—” You spluttered, words failing you for the first time in your entire life. “He is not—”

Sirius just grinned wider.

James, still coughing, thumped his chest and pointed an accusatory finger at Sirius. “Mate. What the hell.”

“Oh, please,” Sirius scoffed. “We all see it. You two are basically a couple already.”

Remus, sipping his tea across the table, nodded. “He’s not wrong.”

Sirius put an arm around his boyfriend. "Thank you, Moony, at least one person on this table actually supports me"

Remus gave him a look "I never said that"

Sirius gasped in mock horror "Hey! I told you all my plans to make those two," He pointed at you both "Start dating and you actually said it was a good idea"

Remus just swallowed a piece of bread "You have no actual proof i said that"

James buried his face in his hands. “Merlin, kill me now.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “We are not dating.”

Sirius waved a hand. “Yet.”

You and James simultaneously threw a piece of toast at him.

It bounced off his head. He didn’t even flinch.

Sirius just grinned. “Give it a week.”

Step number... five?

The Gryffindor common room was unusually peaceful that evening. No firework explosions, no magical pranks, no Sirius Black laughing maniacally while being chased by McGonagall. Just a cozy fire, the occasional page-turning of a textbook, and the low murmur of students finishing their homework.

It was exactly the kind of peace Sirius Black found unacceptable.

He leaned over to Remus, whispering conspiratorially, “It’s time.”

Remus, who had been this close to finishing his Transfiguration essay, sighed. “Time for what?”

Sirius grinned wickedly. “Operation: Get James Potter a Girlfriend.”

Remus pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sirius, for the love of Merlin—”

But Sirius was already in motion, zeroing in on James and you, who were currently seated across from each other at the Gryffindor table, mid-banter as usual.

James leaned back in his chair, twirling his quill between his fingers. “You keep looking at me like that, love. Starting to think you fancy me.”

You scoffed, flipping a page in your textbook. “Oh, absolutely, James. Nothing gets my heart racing like watching you struggle with fourth-year level Charms.”

James gasped dramatically. “You wound me! I am excellent at Charms.”

You smirked. “Oh, of course. Remind me again, how many times did you accidentally set your own tie on fire last week?”

“Once,” James muttered. “And in my defense, the spell was successful. Just...with extra flair.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Hopeless.”

Sirius plopped himself down between you two, grinning like a madman. “Wow, the flirty tension in this room is suffocating.”

Both you and James immediately groaned in unison.

“Sirius—”

“Nope,” he cut you off, slamming a hand down on the table. “I refuse to sit idly by while you two idiots continue this will-they-won’t-they nonsense. So, I’ve decided to help.”

James narrowed his eyes. “Help how?”

Sirius smirked. “Oh, just making sure you two spend as much time together as possible.”

Before either of you could protest, he waved his wand.

Suddenly, the two of you lurched forward, an invisible force yanking you towards each other until your noses were barely an inch apart.

You blinked. James blinked.

“What. The. Hell.”

James tried to lean back, but something—no, Sirius—kept you stuck together.

“Black, if you don’t undo this spell right now, I swear to Merlin—” you started, your face rapidly heating.

Sirius just beamed. “Ah, young love.”

“Padfoot,” James hissed through gritted teeth. “If I hex you right now, will you undo it?”

Sirius shrugged. “Dunno. You could try, but you are currently nose-to-nose with your one true love, so any sudden movements might result in an accidental kiss.”

You and James immediately went rigid.

“You're so dead, Black.” you shouted.

Remus, watching from the sidelines, sighed deeply. “You do realize McGonagall is going to kill you for this.”

Sirius waved a hand dismissively. “Nah, this is romantic. I’ll probably get an award.”

James turned back to you, his lips twitching despite himself. “So… reckon we just stay like this forever? Seems like Sirius has finally found a way to actually make you stare at me all day.”

You groaned. “Unbelievable. I’d rather kiss a Dementor.”

“Ouch,” James said, dramatically clutching his heart. “That’s cruel. I’d at least make a handsome Dementor.”

You huffed, crossing your arms—which was a bad idea, because now your hands were even closer to James’s chest.

Sirius gasped. “Oh, Merlin! Are you about to hold hands? Is this a moment?”

“I will kill you,” James said.

Remus, who was now actively ignoring the situation, muttered, “I’ll alert the authorities.”

Lily, walking past with a book, glanced at the scene, sighed, and kept walking. “You two deserve this.”

James grinned at you. “C’mon, admit it. This is the best day of your life.”

You tilted your head, pretending to consider. “Hm. Ask me again when I’m not glued to your face.”

Sirius sighed dramatically. “Fine, fine. I’ll undo it. But only if you both admit you like each other.”

James and you both froze.

Silence.

You turned to James. James turned to you.

And then, at the exact same time, you both blurted out:

"Absolutely not.”

Sirius groaned. “Hopeless. Utterly hopeless.”

And with that, he flicked his wand, releasing the spell.

The moment you were free, you shoved James off of you, and he—completely unprepared—toppled off the bench and onto the floor with a very undignified yelp, making everyone laugh at him.

Step number 10? (Sirius has definitely lost counting)

It was pouring outside.

The Quidditch pitch was soaked, the thunder rumbled, and the storm showed no signs of letting up. You both had just gotten out of the game, and everything would’ve been fine, except you and James were currently locked in the Gryffindor locker room.

Courtesy of Sirius Black.

James banged on the door. “Pads, you absolute menace, open this door right now!”

Sirius’s laughter echoed from the other side. “Not until you both admit you’re in love with each other!”

You groaned. “You child!”

“Nope, just a genius. Have fun, lovebirds!”

And then—silence.

James sighed, running a hand through his soaked hair. “He’s never letting this go, is he?”

“Nope.”

You both stood there, dripping wet, silence stretching between you.

And then James said, “We could just… do it.”

You turned to him. “Do what?”

James shrugged. “Kiss. Just to get him off our backs.”

You raised an eyebrow. “So now you’re willing to waste your first kiss on me?”

James laughed softly. “I never said I didn’t want to kiss you.”

Oh.

The air between you shifted. His usual smirk was gone, replaced with something softer, something almost shy.

Your heart hammered. “Well… if we have to.”

James took a step closer. “Right. Just to get Sirius to shut up.”

Another step.

“Obviously.”

His hand brushed yours.

“No other reason.”

You swallowed. “None at all.”

And then he kissed you.

It was soft at first, tentative. But then you grabbed the front of his stupid Quidditch jersey, pulling him closer, and suddenly—it wasn’t just to get Sirius to shut up anymore.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and dizzy, James just grinned.

“So,” he said, “how mad would you be if I told you Sirius left five minutes ago?”

You blinked.

And then you shoved him.

“POTTER!”

James stumbled back, laughing as you shoved him again, harder this time. “You knew?” you accused, hands on your hips, still breathless from the kiss.

He grinned, looking far too pleased with himself. “Well, I suspected.”

“You absolute menace!”

James only laughed harder, dodging as you lunged for him. “Come on, love, don’t be mad—”

“Oh, don’t you ‘love’ me, Potter! You tricked me into���” You stopped mid-sentence, suddenly realizing what you were saying.

James smirked. “Into what?”

You scowled. “Into… into…”

His grin widened, and he leaned in. “Into kissing me?”

Your face burned. Damn him.

James stepped even closer, so close you could smell the rain still clinging to his skin. His voice was lower now, teasing but softer. “You did kiss me back, you know.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Only because you kissed me first.”

He nodded solemnly. “And you’re saying you hated it?”

You opened your mouth. Shut it. Opened it again. “That is not the point.”

James just laughed, and before you could shove him again, he caught your hands in his. His thumbs brushed over your knuckles, and suddenly, the air between you wasn’t just playful anymore.

You swallowed. “Potter—”

He leaned in again, close enough that your noses nearly brushed. “I think,” he murmured, “we might have to do that again. You know, just to be sure.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart was pounding. “Oh, for research purposes?”

“Exactly.”

And then he kissed you again—this time slower, sweeter. No tricks, no games. Just you and him.

Outside, the storm raged on, but in that moment, all you could feel was warmth.

[theoretically-questionable]

I'll go further: lots of (white) people *do* listen to rap. They just don't call it rap, and they actively distance themselves from anything too 'rap'-like until it gets popular — at which point they take pains to draw artificial distinctions between it and 'actual rap'.

I'm Australian. A lot of my peers growing up listened to Hollywood Undead, Hilltop Hoods, Bliss n Eso, Kerser, Limp Bizkit, and those two or three popular songs from Rage Against the Machine's discography (as did my internet friends in Canada and the USA: i'm leaving the UK out of it because their landscape around mainstream music and black rappers is different in kinda complicated ways imo).

But none of these bands were thought of as even close to 'rap' to my peers — HU and LB were just "rock/punk", Kerser was just "hardcore electronic", and (most egregiously of all) BnE and HH were just "hip-hop". They didn't listen to rap (bad, black), no! It was hip-hop (good, white)! (and of course, any Australian indigenous music, rap or otherwise, was fringe at best — the most 'indigenous politics' band was Midnight Oil (very white), and actual contemporary Indigenous music only got passed around as a joke (see Petrol Powered Goon Bag Holocaust going semi-viral amongst high-schoolers, for example).

The cognitive dissonance required to say a band isn't 'rap' because it's actually 'just aussie hip-hop' is... incredible, sure, but it's real. There's a... reflexive refusal, i guess, to engage with black art, to instead preference white artists in the genre, and to split parts of into 'less-rap' genres to make it more palatable.

Plus there's a persistent difficulty engaging with the actual themes of black art when it does get mainstreamed (see the focus on Lamar v. Drake beefing that skips over a *core* part of the feud, namely "you a fuckin' colonizer") (F.D Signifier's 'I'm What the Culture Feeling' is invaluable here for anyone looking to get their bearings on the context).

And there's this... weird shame that a lot of (again, mostly white) rap-combo-genre artists seem to feel about being rap-adjacent, now? It either trickled up from fans, or down from the bands, but it's everywhere. It's cringe, it's immature, it's juvenile masculine anger, it's not tasteful, it's not properly political. All the same patently incurious (at best) shit people say about black rap and culture.

"For anyone born before 1995 or so, the mere mention of the term “rap rock” is likely to produce reflexive shudders. The cultural imagination is littered with the unlovely offspring of attempted copulation between the styles; if, at some point, you made a name for yourself through combining rap and rock, chances are you either distance yourself vigorously from such efforts now or have learned to adjust to life as a walking joke."

—Jason Greene, 'The Unlikely Resurgence of Rap Rock', Pitchfork

Which is stunning, really, because bands in these 'hybrid' genres have been some of the most influential in the last two decades of the western popular musical landscape (and as OP said, probably less directly for the last forty plus years)!

These are bands that aren't just 'musically influenced' by rap, but bands that outright lyrically rap in their songs (regrettably, Lonely Island counts — "i don't listen to rap, unless it's a 'parody' band" was a huge genre for a while, christ)! But it's never 'actually rap' to the audience (who view rap as 'bad') and it's almost never non-white artists.

Everything from the edgelord-electronic scene (stemming out from MSI and similar bands which held an ongoing fascination with the 'shocking' aspects of black culture and rap) to straightforward nu-mental, rock, and punk, and even fucking Christian Rock/Metal, are all genres full of bands that explicitly started out directly engaging with 'rap' and were explicitly inspired by black rap artists.

Like, I don't cite Greene above just to support the idea that this reflexive shame around liking anything rap-like exists; the article also shows the writer straightforwardly leans into the 'cringe' these rap-combo genres apparently inspire. It's completely at odds with the actual trajectories (in terms of fame, subject matter, and political engagement) of the bands he's talking about. He even explicitly buys into the old canard that rap rock (as a rap offshoot) is/was predominantly misogynistic.

(The conversation around white artists extracting and popularising elements of black music culture for their own careers and musical expression, and their music's misogyny/aggression stemming from uncritical interpretations/reproductions of the more nuanced and culturally specific source material, is a whole other kettle of fish.)

rap has probably been the most consistently popular and influential genre of music for the past 40+ years but your average person on tumblr is less willing to listen to it than a random white teenage boy in the suburbs or a 4channer who lurks on /mu/ every once in a while

[fawnhart]

rafe getting sugar a puppy ! ㅤ⭑๋ ࣭

It’s been a month since you showed up in Fawnridge with Rafe.

the last you heard about Outer Banks, was that your parents were making a scene at the police station, crying and carrying on like you’d been kidnapped. the cops just shook their heads, probably sick of hearing it.

You were an adult.

You left on your own.

Case closed.

Of course, that didn’t stop the rumors.

Mrs. Maggie, queen of town gossip, though she was always a nice soul to you, she sure had a lot to say about it over at the annual neighborhood picnic.

“I’m tellin’ you, her mama was screamin’ about demons takin’ her baby. Said God told her she needed to be ‘cleansed.’” She said stuffing her mouth with another chocolate covered strawberries “If you ask me, that girl was smart to run.”

“Oh, bless her heart, I woulda’ done the same” Mrs Dolores had sighed “You think she’s safe livin’ with Rafe though? That boy’s got a past.” The twiggy old lady said while sipping on her pink lemonade

Mrs. Maggie just huffed “Well peter tells me he saw them that night but y’know that son of a guns got bad eyesight, so who knows….Anyways, Past or not, at least he ain’t trying to drag her back to a bunch of crazies!.” she whispered harshly

That’s the story people have settled on. You ran away because your parents lost their minds. Maybe they’re right. Maybe they’re wrong.

Either way, you’re here, and you’re not going back.

⭑.๋ ࣭

The day he brought home the puppy, you nearly had a heart attack.

You had been curled up on the worn-out couch, half-asleep, wrapped in one of the blankets Rafe had let you steal from his room. The breeze from the wind drifted through the open window, mixing with the scent of the blueberry and vanilla candle you had bought and the faintest trace of his cologne. It was peaceful until the door swung open, and in walked Rafe, looking way too smug for your liking, a tiny cream colored ball of fluff cradled in his arms.

“What do you think?” He said grinning, his nose bridge and cheekbone stained with a streak of soot. He’s probably supposed to be at the fire station right now.

You sat up immediately, blinking at him in disbelief "What is that?"

He raised an eyebrow, like the answer was obvious "A dog."

"A dog?" you repeated, as if he’d just walked in with a live grenade. "Are you serious?"

He sighed, stepping further into the apartment, the puppy’s tiny tail wagging excitedly "Dead serious." He set the puppy down on the floor, and it stumbled a little before trotting toward you, pink tongue peeking out as it sniffed your leg.

You stared at it, it was a long haired dachshund, your heart betraying you with how fast it was beating. It was stupidly cute. Fluffy beige fur, big brown eyes, floppy ears that didn’t quite match its tiny body. It looked up at you like it had already decided you were its person.

You glanced up at Rafe suspiciously. "This some kind of trick?"

His jaw propped open, like the question actually offended him "What? No. This little man was stuck in a pipe down by the fish shop. The fire chief let me keep him"

"I thought you said the landlord has a strict ‘no pet’ rule" You said confused

“We just wont tell him" he said simply, shoving his hands in his pockets. His voice was even, but there was something underneath it—he was nervous "The company might be good."

You looked away, suddenly feeling exposed. The puppy whined, pawing at your leg, and you hesitantly reached down, letting it sniff your fingers before gently running your hand over its soft fur.

"We don’t have to keep him," Rafe added quickly, like he was preparing for you to refuse. "But I thought you might want-"

"I’ll keep him," you blurted, surprising even yourself. You could feel him staring at you, but you kept your eyes on the puppy, swallowing past the lump in your throat. "But if he pees on my bed, he’s heading straight to your room"

Rafe snorted "He’s, like, two pounds. Relax."

You shot him a glare, but it didn’t have much bite "What’s his name?"

He shrugged "Didn’t name him yet. Figured you should."

You looked back down at the tiny creature in your lap, watching as he curled up like he already knew he belonged there. A small smile tugged at your lips before you mumbled, "Chip."

Rafe tilted his head "Chip?"

"Yeah," you said, lifting your chin stubbornly. "Like a chocolate chip"

He huffed out a laugh, shaking his head "Alright, Chip it is."

⭑.๋ ࣭

Two days later, you were dragging Rafe into the tiny pet shop on Main Street, determined to give Chip the absolute best life possible.

"This is ridiculous," Rafe muttered as you practically bounced toward the dog sweater section, Chip peeking out from the tote bag slung over your shoulder "The dog is fine."

"Ugh! You’re ridiculous," you shot back, flipping through the tiny sweaters with laser focus. "He needs a wardrobe"

Rafe exhaled sharply, crossing his arms as he stood behind you like a grumpy bodyguard.

The store was small, shelves stacked high with treats and toys, the scent of kibble lingering in the air. A couple of older ladies near the checkout counter kept sneaking glances at the two of you, whispering behind their hands.

You could already hear the town gossip forming.

"That’s Rafe Cameron"

"She’s the girl sleeping with him, right?"

"Are they…?"

You rolled your eyes, pretending not to hear them, while Rafe just ignored them completely. He was good at that.

"Okay, what about this one?" You held up a tiny baby blue sweater, pressing it against Chip’s fluffy body. He yawned, completely uninterested, his puppy breath hitting you, but you grinned "You look so handsome."

Rafe made a face "It’s a dog, Sugar, not a toddler."

You scowled "First of all, his name is Chip. Second of all, you’re just mad because he’s cuter than you."

Rafe scoffed, but the corner of his mouth twitched like he was holding back a smirk "Whatever. Just hurry up, can’t believe I’m spending my break buying dog clothes." He muttered

You ignored him, dropping the sweater into the cart before moving on to the treat aisle. You were hyper-focused, scanning the options like it was life or death, while Rafe leaned against the cart, looking deeply uninterested but still following you anyway.

By the time you reached the checkout, your cart was full. Dog food, a fluffy white dog bed, the sweater, a tiny heart-shaped tag with Chip’s name engraved on it. The cashier, a girl around rafes age with a curly blonde bob, raised an eyebrow as she rang you up.

"Didn’t know you were into the whole ‘happy family’ thing, Rafey" she said, voice dripping with something you didn’t like.

Rafe’s expression didn’t change, but you felt him shift behind you, his presence solid and unwavering "Just get the total, Kelsey."

Her eyes flicked to you, her lips pressing into a tight line "That’ll be ninety-four fifty."

Rafe handed over the cash before you could argue, and as you gathered your bags, Kelsey leaned in slightly "Guess you’ve got him wrapped around your little finger, huh?"

You narrowed your eyes "I guess you don’t know what you’re talking about, huh?"

Her mouth opened slightly, but you didn’t give her the chance to say anything else. You turned on your heel, brushing past Rafe as you headed for the door.

Outside, the air was warm, the smell of smoke and fried food drifting from the food shacks down the street. You walked a few steps ahead of him before finally grumbling, "that girl sucks" you said tugging your little blue dress down

Rafe chuckled, falling into step beside you "Jealousy looks ugly on you"

You shot him a look "Jealous of what? Her?"

He didn’t answer right away, just kept walking, hands stuffed in his pockets "I don’t know," he said after a beat "You tell me."

You frowned, but before you could respond, Chip let out a tiny yawn from inside the tote bag, snuggling deeper into the blanket you had tucked inside.

You sighed, shaking your head "I don’t care, you can do whatever you want." You said not sure if you were convincing him or yourself

Rafe smirked, but he didn’t push it "Yeah, alright."

And as the two of you walked back toward the apartment, the sun dipping low over the road, you felt something settle in your chest,

something warm.

© 𝐅𝐀𝐖𝐍𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐓, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓

[quartzteph]

HAPPY 10TH ANNIVERSARY TGS!!!!!

I've had this design for a recombined Jekyll rolling around in my head for months now, so I finally took the time to draw him. For the sake of clarity I'll refer to him as Re!Jekyll (short for Recombined Jekyll) (also the prefix "re-" feels kinda fitting for him, since he is whole once again). I have many ideas/headcanons for him, but I'll put all that under the cut :)

As for the drawing itself, I tried to mimic the look of the comic for the most part. (Note: Many of the colors used here were colorpicked from the comic to ensure accuracy.) I wanted him to look less like a 50/50 mix of Jekyll and Hyde and more like a Hyde-ish Jekyll, so I opted to give him the same face and hairstyle as Jekyll, but with some Hyde-like qualities. Aside from the obvious blonde streak, his hair is fluffier, messier, and a bit longer. The hair tuft/sideburn things in front of his ears are based on a mix of the hair tufts that hang in front of Hyde’s ears and university Jekyll’s sideburns. While he mostly wears red, he likes to include a touch of green, as seen here in his cravat. Also he gets the dark eye circles, as a treat. (I just really like Hyde's dark eye circles and don't have enough self-restraint to not give them to Re!Jekyll.)

Bonus doodles cause i love my freak son:

Various headcanon ramblings about him (plus drawing process) under the cut:

When he's trying to look more respectable, he uses his now-longer bangs to hide his green eye. At first, he also attempts to make his hair look neater, but this is a near impossible task that he eventually gives up on. (He is doomed to live out the fuzzy-headed mad scientist stereotype.)

When people question his sudden change in appearance, he claims his blonde streak and green eye are the result of a chemical formula splashing him in the face (á la Two-Face). Yeah this sounds a little far-fetched, but he is charming enough to get away with it. (Besides, he knows way more about alchemy than they do, who are they to question it?)

This sudden merging of identities is initially super disorienting. It takes him a while to get used to it. (In the first few days, he keeps referring to himself with "we". He eventually breaks this habit tho.)

Has a bit of an identity crisis. (I'm specifically envisioning a scene of him staring at his wardrobe, mostly full of reds and greens, and getting stuck because he doesn't know what color to wear.)

Jekyll and Hyde were so used to having someone constantly there, listening to them and yapping in their ears (or in their heads, rather). Now, for Re!Jekyll, life feels so quiet. It's peaceful, but also a little lonely.

Has a bad habit of talking to himself aloud. When he's alone, he sometimes has whole conversations or debates with himself.

Struggles more with the mundane parts of his job due to having Hyde's impulsiveness and wanderlust. He occasionally has to take little breaks from all the paperwork when he becomes too restless.

He's still goopy. Moments of extreme emotion (stress, anger, excitement, etc.) can trigger the green goop. (Think that one scene in Ch. 14 when the priestess startles Hyde, causing goop to spew from his face.) I like to imagine the guilt of everything he's done hitting him and causing him to have a "that one scene in Howl's Moving Castle" moment.

In rare moments of severe inner turmoil or repression, he may even go into convulsions in addition to the goop, as if his body is trying to transform. (Feel free to disregard this one if you wish, this is 100% just me being super self-indulgent cause I love angst.)

Despite his many newfound struggles, he’s actually very happy! He now knows that Lanyon loves and accepts every part of him, and this helps him to better love and accept himself.

And now drawing process images! Shoutout to that one Re!Jekyll who is way too excited about something:

[jd-loves-fiction]

Heh. I am back :3

An alternative of the kidnapping scenario with the same characters (Boothill, Blade and Gallagher) but when they get to reader they find them already having finished the job, covered in blood but they seem terrified of even themselves and apologizing for what they have done in tears.

🌑making my way through all the shorter requests cuz the event is coming!! Excite :)

✦ 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐥 ✦

Doesn't blame you in the slightest

Scours your surroundings quickly just to make sure you're safe first

Then he's immediately making himself smaller while shushing you softly - he knows what it's like to let your revenge take over

It's literally his every day, it's why he joined the galaxy rangers, why he traded his body for the one he now has

Tries to make you laugh, brushing away your worries about the blood covering you and your apologies - he couldn't care less about that

But he's scrambling on what to do - his instinct is telling him to hold you close, just as his father's had when he was young, but they weren't made of cold, unfeeling metal

If you muster up the courage to ask for it tho? No hesitation, immediately wraps you up in his arms even if he feels sort of bad for not being able to provide you proper human comfort :(

If only you'd met earlier...

✦ 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐞 ✦

Oh honey

No way he's gonna blame you, no way

Not the best with comfort but trust that he tries :(

He's rushing to your side and urging you to calm your breathing

When you start apologizing he'll tell you firmly to stop doing that >:[

You have nothing to apologize for, and he wants you to understand that

I feel like i say this about him in every post but QUIET COMFORT!!!

Just stays by your side as long as you need it and gives you space if that's what you need

Will not offer words of comfort unless you ask him to, but will wrap you up in his arms if you let him

May seem distracted the whole because he's trying his best not to lose with how angry he is with the people you killed - thank your lucky stars you took care of them cuz he would've done much worse

✦ 𝐆𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐫 ✦

You've never seen so much raw emotion on his face before

First instinct is to hold you and that's what he does the moment you give him permission

Swaying slightly and shushing and cooing at you while you're trying to apologize

No need for that, he's just happy you're safe

Casts a glance around to make sure they're all dead

Wipes the blood and tears from your face while comforting you the best he can

All the reassurance - this doesn't change who you are or what you're worth and he doesn't blame you for doing it nor does it make you any lesser in his eyes

Won't let you out of his sight for some time after

He just has to make sure it doesn't happen again :(