#but i get people navigate the world differently then i do

[running-with-toast]

The "sin of empathy"

The rejection of democracy. Socialism is a joke, communism is a threat, anarchism is unspeakable. These are ideas that cannot be entertained. Horizontal power demands cooperation. Empathy.

The fearmongering and appeals to disgust and implication of immediate personal threat. "Gang members are gonna come to Your house and make Your kid eat bugs! Are you gonna let them get away with that?!" The gut reaction overrides critical thinking. Action is demanded. Empathy is suppressed.

The demonization if the poor, the homeless, and drug addicts. Ignore them. They're dirty. It's probably their fault anyways. They're just looking for a handout they don't deserve. They aren't your problem.

The demonization of the stranger. Migrants, black people, jews. Outsider, infiltrator, dangerous, disgusting, inhuman.

The denigration of the queer as subversive, and the denigration of the feminine as shameful. Traits perceived as masculine, individualism, ruthlessness, inflexibility. Admirable. Traits perceived as feminine, vulnerability, compassion, empathy. Shameful.

The push to gut public education. Robbing families, isolating children from their peers, stunting their cognitive development and their ability to relate to others.

The spreading of illiteracy, leaving people unable to make informed choices or seek out new perspectives or navigate the world or do anything other than believe what they're told.

The spreading of conspiracies, sowing distrust of academics who might offer better explanations, or make the unfamiliar less scary, or encourage critical thinking, or make you question authority.

Demonization of cities as hellholes. Single family homes and uninhabitable suburbs. Fences and freeways. Camera doorbells and delivery apps. The fucking pandemic. Isolation.

Generative ai. It can make your art for you. It can talk to your family for you. It can be your friend. Talk to it. You don't have to talk to anyone anymore. Isolation.

And now, the sin of empathy. Stated plainly. A command to take a part of your mind, a fundamental building block of your personhood, and crush it.

It's always been about empathy. Everything they do. It's been their strategy for decades at least. They're trying to build a country of people with unshakable faith. People who won't bat an eye when protesters become prisoners and prisoners become slaves. People who will cheer for migrants in cages and foreigners under rubble. People without empathy.

I've been thinking about this a lot. I feel like I've discovered the missing piece, but I'm still struggling to synthesize it. I don't know what to do. How do we spark empathy in people who view it as a weakness? How do we teach people who experience challenges to their world view as a test of faith? How do we free people from a conman they have pledged undying loyalty to? How do we rescue a whole country from a cult?

The one thing I'm really scared of, the conclusion I don't want to reach, is that the supporters are just. Different. Fundamentally. Unable to feel empathy, unable to think for themselves, unable to be reasoned with, unable to be changed, unable to be saved, unable to be stopped. Because if that is true...

What other options are there?

[cherrypuff111]

The truth about embodying your manifested self:

You visualize. You affirm. You script. You do everything manifestation coaches tell you to do.

But when it comes to actually living as the version of you who already has it?

You freeze. You doubt. You slip back into old patterns.

And suddenly, it feels like you’re faking it instead of being it.

Sound familiar? Then keep reading. Because this is where most people get stuck.

Your current reality—the version of you that struggles, doubts, and overthinks? It doesn’t exist because you want it to.

It exists because it’s familiar.

Your mind clings to the known, even when the known is uncomfortable. That’s why:

You affirm confidence but still avoid eye contact.

You say you’re wealthy but hesitate before buying something.

You manifest love but keep checking if they texted first.

Not because you don’t believe in your manifestation—but because your nervous system isn’t used to it yet.

But here’s the thing—every version of you felt "unnatural" at first.

Eventually, what once felt fake will feel effortless.

Your job? Keep going until your nervous system catches up.

Remember the first time you tried driving? It felt awkward. Forced. Unnatural.

But now? You don’t even think about it.

The same thing happens with your manifested self.

Right now, confidence might feel fake. But the more you move as if it’s already you, the more it becomes your normal.

Wealth feels unnatural—until you stop second-guessing your worth.

Most people quit because they expect their new identity to feel real immediately.

But here’s the catch— it won’t.

At least, not at first.

Your dream life will feel like a fantasy—until it’s not.

Your new self will feel fake—until you become it.

The people around you might be confused—until they see the shift.

And then?

One day, you wake up and realize…

You’re not faking it anymore.

It’s just who you are now.

Embodying your manifested self starts with small, intentional shifts in how you think, act, and carry yourself daily. Instead of hoping for change, speak and think as if it’s already yours. Make choices the way your ideal self would—whether it’s how you respond to challenges, present yourself, or navigate opportunities. Adjust your body language to reflect confidence and ease, and surround yourself with things that align with your new reality, from music to daily habits. Most importantly, notice when old patterns resurface and choose differently. Over time, these subtle shifts make your new identity feel natural and effortless.

The fastest way to embody your new self immediately is to make a definitive decision that you are that person right now—no waiting, no trying. Shift your inner dialogue from “I’m becoming” to “I already am.” Move through your day as if your manifestation is undeniably real. Speak, walk, and make choices from that mindset. The moment you stop questioning and fully claim it, your energy shifts—and so does your reality.

"If you assume your desire and live there as though it were true, no power in the world can stop it from becoming a fact." - Neville Goddard

hope this post was helpful for y'all!!!!

- xoxo 💋

With love, Celeste

[honey-bitch]

୨⎯ Chiron in the Signs ⎯୧ In mythology, Chiron was a wise centaur and healer, unfortunately he was unable to heal his own incurable wound, thus becoming a symbol of the "wounded healer.."By understanding your Chiron placement you can understand how to heal yourself and what triggers you and like chiron you can heal others.

For 0° - it doesn't have a delegated sign and therefore it will take the qualities of the sign it's in. Aries (1,13 ,25°): Maybe you've felt like you weren't brave enough, or like you couldn't really stand up for yourself. That's a Chiron in Aries thing. But the amazing thing is, once you find your own courage, you can become a real inspiration to other people. You can help them find their own inner strength and learn to be more assertive.

Taurus(2,14,26° ): Chiron in Taurus can be about feeling unworthy, or like you don't deserve good things. But you have this incredible capacity to heal that by learning to truly value yourself, inside and out. And once you get there, you can help other people see their own worth, too. You can help them build a strong sense of self-esteem.

Gemini(3,15,27° ): Maybe you've struggled with communication, feeling like nobody really gets you. That's a Chiron in Gemini wound. But you can turn that around and become an amazing communicator yourself. You can help other people find their voice, express themselves clearly, and connect with others in a meaningful way. Cancer(4,16,28° ): Chiron in Cancer often has to do with family stuff, or feeling emotionally unsafe. But once you learn to nurture yourself and create a safe space for your own emotions, you can become a real source of comfort and support for others. You can offer a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on. Leo(5,17,29° ): This placement can be about feeling insecure about being seen or appreciated. Maybe you've been afraid to really shine. But once you embrace your own unique talents and learn to express yourself confidently, you can inspire other people to do the same. You can help them find their own creative spark. Virgo(6,18°): Perfectionism can be a real struggle with Chiron in Virgo. You might be really hard on yourself. But you can learn to let go of those unrealistic expectations and find peace in self-care. And then you can help other people do the same. You can show them how to be kinder to themselves. Libra(7,19°): Chiron in Libra often has to do with relationships. Maybe you've had trouble with balance or setting boundaries. But once you figure that out for yourself, you can become a great guide for other people in their relationships. You can help them create healthier connections. Scorpio(8,20°): This placement can bring up deep wounds around intimacy and vulnerability. But you have this incredible capacity to heal through emotional exploration and transformation. And you can use that experience to help other people navigate their own inner world. You can become a trusted guide for them. Sagittarius (9,21°) : Chiron in Sagittarius can be about feeling lost or questioning your beliefs. But once you find your own truth and expand your horizons, you can share your wisdom with others. You can inspire them to explore their own beliefs and find their own path.

Capricorn (10,22° ): This placement can be about feeling pressure to succeed or struggling with authority. But you can learn to balance your ambitions with self-acceptance and emotional well-being. And you can help other people do the same. You can show them how to achieve their goals without sacrificing their happiness. Aquarius (11,23°): Chiron in Aquarius can be about feeling like you don't belong or that you're different. But once you embrace your own uniqueness and find your tribe, you can inspire other people to do the same. You can help them find their own place in the world. Pisces (12,24°) : With Chiron in Pisces, you might be super sensitive and have trouble with boundaries. But you can learn to protect your own energy and express your compassion in healthy ways. And you can help other people do the same. You can offer them empathy and understanding.

©️ 2024 honey-bitch All Rights Reserved

DISCLAIMER: this post is a great generalisation and may not resonate with you. I would recommend buying a reading from a professional astrologer to get more insight

[zeroseuniverse]

The Chase Is Half Of The Fun

Word Count: 2.0 K Summary: “You know the drill, officer,” you said with a wink before turning to make your escape. Pairing: S.coups X Reader

Disclaimer: Please be aware that this is apart of the from the ashes series. This series will have aspects of violence, weapons, angst, blood, injuries, killing, and will heavily focus on oppression and segregation of mutants, Look after your mental state if any of these make you uncomfortable please.

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You were known by many names. Some called you a criminal, others, a hero. You didn’t care what they thought, though—your only concern was getting justice for the people who were being forgotten. The corrupt, the greedy, the ones at the top of the food chain, who took and took and never gave back. You took from them, always making sure to give to those who needed it most, the oppressed, the ones left behind by society. You weren’t a saint, but you were doing the world a favor.

It wasn’t easy, but it was your purpose.

And then there was him.

S.Coups, or rather, Choi Seungcheol—law enforcement’s top officer, the one who was always a step behind you, yet somehow never managed to catch you. He wasn’t bad at his job, not by a long shot. He was disciplined, sharp, and incredibly dedicated. But every time you managed to slip through his fingers, there was this fleeting look in his eyes—a look that was more than just duty.

It confused you, at first.

But the more you danced this dangerous game with him, the more you realized that his eyes weren’t just watching you like a criminal. There was something else���something softer, something that made your heart race every time you saw him.

The chase had been going on for months now, and you both knew how it would play out. He’d find you, corner you, and then... let you slip away at the last second. The pattern was becoming all too familiar, and it was driving both of you crazy.

Tonight was no different.

The warehouse was located on the outskirts of the city, a place no one dared to venture to unless they were part of the right circles. It was rumored to be a storage point for some of the highest-ranking criminals' illicit dealings—stolen goods, secret information, and even worse. You couldn’t let that stand.

You’d spent weeks infiltrating their network, gathering intel, and now it was time to make your move. You knew S.Coups would be there, though. You always did. It wasn’t a question of if he’d show up, but when.

You slipped inside the darkened warehouse, moving like a shadow. The guards were easy to deal with, and within minutes, you had access to the secure vault where everything was being stored.

As you worked quickly to get what you needed—documents, files, and money—you could hear the distant sound of footsteps. It was the kind of step you’d learned to recognize by now: heavy, determined, and purposeful.

You smirked.

“You always do this,” a voice called out from behind you, low and steady.

You didn’t flinch, didn’t turn around. Instead, you focused on securing the final bag of money, making sure the weight was perfect for the escape.

“You know I’m not going to let you leave, right?” Seungcheol’s voice was closer now, his footsteps stopping just behind you.

“Of course, you’re not,” you said with a slight smirk, turning to face him. “It’s not fun unless you chase me.”

His eyes narrowed, but there was no anger there—only a resigned amusement. “You make it too easy.”

You tilted your head, your expression teasing. “Am I really that predictable?”

“Yes,” he replied, his tone firm, but there was something softer in his gaze. Something that said he wasn’t as convinced by his own words as he wanted you to believe.

You took a step toward him, your eyes locked on his. “Then why haven’t you caught me yet?”

Seungcheol took a deep breath, his gaze intense. “Because you always know how to slip away. It’s infuriating.”

A flash of something—vulnerability, maybe—passed through his features, but you were already moving, already aware that your time was up.

“You know the drill, officer,” you said with a wink before turning to make your escape.

But as you reached the door, something unexpected happened.

Seungcheol didn’t follow.

Instead, you heard the sound of his footsteps stop completely. You glanced over your shoulder to find him standing still, watching you, his gaze filled with something deeper than just duty.

“Are you really going to leave without a fight this time?” you asked, a bit breathless.

His silence was heavy, but he didn’t stop you. He didn’t arrest you. Instead, his eyes softened, and for a fleeting second, you saw the conflict in them.

“I should arrest you,” he said quietly, his voice strained.

“Then why don’t you?” You were so close to the exit now, the cool night air just beyond the door. But you didn’t want to leave yet. Not with that look in his eyes.

“I can’t,” he admitted, almost too quietly.

You froze, the words hitting you harder than you expected. “What do you mean, you can’t?”

“Because every time you get away, I wonder if I’m doing the right thing,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re... you’re not a criminal. Not in the way they say. You’re... trying to make things right. But I’m not sure if I can help you.”

His words hung in the air between you both, thick with tension.

You stared at him for a long moment, feeling the weight of his confession. There was no smug grin, no teasing remark—just the raw honesty of a man caught between his duty and his feelings.

Without a word, you turned and walked back toward him. Your movements were slow, deliberate, and you could see the confusion flash in his eyes as you came closer.

You stood in front of him, the space between you shrinking until you could feel the heat of his body. There was no chase now. Just the two of you, standing at the crossroads of right and wrong.

“You know,” you said softly, “I never asked for your help. But I think you’re already helping me just by letting me go.”

Seungcheol’s breath hitched, his gaze softening even more as he met your eyes. “I don’t want to stop you,” he whispered, his hand brushing against yours. “But I can’t just let you keep doing this.”

“You don’t have to,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. “Just stop chasing me for a while.”

He didn’t say anything, but the way his hand lingered near yours told you everything you needed to know. It was a truce—a quiet understanding that, for now, there were no winners in this game, only two people standing together in the blurry line between right and wrong.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

Days passed before you found yourself once again in the thick of it. The adrenaline rush of your last heist still lingered, but you couldn’t deny the nagging feeling that stayed with you—the memory of his gaze, soft and full of conflict, had been on your mind since that night.

Your next encounter with Seungcheol wasn’t planned. In fact, you hadn’t expected to see him so soon after your last interaction. But fate, as it often did, had a way of throwing the two of you together when least expected.

It was a simple job—break into a secure building, swipe a few important documents, and get out. But of course, nothing was ever simple with you around.

As you crept through the shadows, your heart skipped a beat when you heard the faint sound of boots on the ground. Your instincts kicked in, and you hid behind a pillar, holding your breath.

Sure enough, the familiar figure of Choi Seungcheol appeared, his sharp eyes scanning the area as he walked with purpose. Your pulse quickened—his presence always did that to you. And you knew that tonight, he wasn’t going to let you slip away as easily as he usually did.

You stepped out from your hiding spot, a smirk spreading across your face as you walked directly toward him.

“Well, well,” you said, your voice dripping with teasing confidence. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

Seungcheol froze for a split second, his eyes narrowing. “You’re getting bolder, aren’t you?”

“Maybe I like living on the edge,” you replied with a wink, taking a step closer to him. Your gaze locked with his, and you noticed the way his jaw clenched as if he was trying to hold back something—something more than just the desire to catch you.

“You’re not leaving this time,” Seungcheol said, his voice low and firm. But there was something in the way he said it—something that made you doubt if he really meant it.

“Oh, I think I am,” you teased, standing just a few inches away from him now, enjoying the tension that crackled between you. “I’m not so easy to catch, Seungcheol.”

He stepped forward, closing the space between you even more, his body just barely brushing against yours. “I don’t need to catch you,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. “Not when I can keep you here, just like this.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, but you refused to let him see how much his closeness affected you. You raised an eyebrow, meeting his gaze with a challenge. “And how do you plan on doing that, officer?”

Seungcheol’s eyes darkened, and you could see the way he was fighting to keep his composure. His lips parted, but he didn’t speak immediately. Instead, he took a slow step back, his gaze never leaving yours.

“You like playing these games, don’t you?” he asked, his voice quieter now, the edge of frustration seeping in. “But at some point, this is going to stop being fun. And when it does, I don’t know if I’ll be able to let you go.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, the playful mask you wore slipped. The seriousness in his tone, mixed with the heat in his eyes, made you feel something you hadn’t expected. The mission. The chase. It all seemed so far away in that moment. It was just the two of you now, standing in the middle of this tension-filled game that neither of you seemed willing to back down from.

“I’m not the one who’s going to get caught, Seungcheol,” you whispered, your voice softening. You took a step closer, closing the distance again, the tension between you thick enough to cut with a knife.

“You’re right,” he replied, his voice low and almost intimate. “You’re always one step ahead of me. But one of these days…” His hand brushed against your arm, a subtle touch, but it sent a jolt through your body. “One of these days, you won’t be able to slip away.”

You tilted your head, your eyes flicking to his lips. “Is that a promise, officer?”

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, and his gaze dipped down to your lips as well. The air between you felt charged, the heat of the moment rising.

“Maybe,” he said, his voice barely audible. “But don’t get too cocky. The next time we meet, I’m not letting you go without a fight.”

The challenge in his words was clear, but so was the underlying tension—the attraction that neither of you had been able to ignore for so long.

Before you could say anything else, Seungcheol stepped back, turning his attention to the mission at hand. But there was a lingering look in his eyes, one that told you this game wasn’t over yet. He was letting you go again, but not without that silent promise.

You watched him for a moment longer before stepping back into the shadows, a smirk crossing your face.

“I’ll be waiting, officer,” you called over your shoulder, your voice laced with both playfulness and challenge.

As you slipped out of the building, you couldn’t help but wonder—just how far would Seungcheol go to catch you? And more importantly... how long would you both keep playing this dangerous game of cat and mouse?

The next encounter was already in your mind. And this time, you weren’t going to make it easy on him.

[velkia]

you have some of the coolest ocs ive ever seen! can you please share their jobs/combat styles (if they have any)?

-cracks their fingers-

Thanks for this question, it's been ages since I got to talk about my characters, and I'm so happy to see there's still interest in my babies! ;w;

Just a heads up, I'll be using some older drawings (pre-2023) and comic pages in french to illustrate things, if you notice a difference in style, that's totally normal!

My characters go through a lot of phases, but I'll just summarize two of the main ones: the time when they were traveling together and the time when they’ve settled into adulthood.

Click here to read this on a more suitable interface, if you are on a computer!

From left to right: Axel, Uvia, Veron and Tellos

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Nowadays, Axel's just your average journalist, living life without much magic, except for the occasional use to rev up his motorcycle or light his pipe.

Back in the day when he was an adventurer, though, things were different. If he found himself in a scrap, he had a mechanical flying broom, crafted by Tellos, at his service, along with a trusty rope to tie up his foes. He could also conjure shields of cascading fire.

If things got really intense, he would unleash a massive fire laser to clear his path, but only in the most extreme situations (he's not a violent boy).

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Nowadays, Veron's a simple office worker clocking in 9 to 5. But he's also a priest, so his schedule is packed with community events like soup kitchens, masses, and charity activities.

Back in the day, he was an exorcist on a mission to heal the many cursed gods that inhabit their world. His powers were tied to electricity and magnetism, which he used to fly, deflect enemy attacks and connect his exorcism amulet to the targeted god. Plus, he wielded a katana and could manipulate any metal weapon from a distance.

In a pinch, he could disarm his foes and, if things got really out of hand, he could zap them with a jolt of electricity (but same as Axel, he's a good boy so it's not his cup of tea to turn the enemy into a roastie).

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Nowadays, Uvia, Axel's twin, is a harbor innkeeper just trying to navigate the chaos of motherhood with her hellish kid, Nikolaj. Her powers allow her to play with ice and manipulate the temperature in her cocktails.

Back in her youth, that same ice was a formidable weapon. She could conjure swords, sabers, and shields to defend herself, and she had a blast shaping the terrain to trap her enemies or slide in for a quick attack. Outside of combat, she could use her abilities to cool down injured areas, acting as a makeshift anesthetic.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

These days, Tellos is a plumbing engineer who sometimes picks up extra work doing repairs in people's homes. He’s also the adoptive father of Nikolaj, and he's doing his best to keep the little hellion out of trouble. His powers are great for maintaining his vegetable garden.

Back in his adventurous days, he relied heavily on his mechanical backpack, which was like a Swiss army knife for combat: it had propellers, thrusters, giant hands, blades, and even a small squadron of machine-gun robots. His plant-related powers came in handy too, allowing him to create fuel for his gadgets and potentially trap enemies. Outside of battle, he used those same powers to whip up powerful ointments whenever needed.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Speaking of my other OCs (this post is getting pretty long lmao), Kohana used to be a spy on the run, wielding daggers and setting traps.

Now, she’s made a name for herself as a legitimate political figure who genuinely listens to her constituents.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Then there’s Rhoda, Veron’s little sister. She shares his powers but focuses on precision, using her abilities to electrify her projectiles and target enemies effectively. Today, she’s a close colleague and valued friend of Kohana.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

As for Elombe and Yasmine, I don’t have a visual for their current designs, sorry! Just picture Elombe as a barely-teen elf, while Yasmine was already an adult when the others were still on their adventures so she didn't change much.

Elombe is still a schoolboy, he loves to dress up as the god of rain and show off the shapes he can create with his powers. He can even make water clones, which can be quite the hell for enemies who hate kids~

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Yasmine, on the other hand, is a priestess in a women’s parish dedicated to the god of wind. Her powers allow her to soar through the skies to visit her deity and send her enemies flying, though that doesn’t happen too often.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Thanks for your patience while I rambled about my characters! qvq

It’s always a joy to share their journeys and transformations. If you have any more questions or want to dive deeper into any specific character, feel free to ask! I’m always here to chat about my OCs and their adventures. Until next time, thanks for joining me on this little trip down memory lane~

[transfaguette]

truly one of the biggest pet peeves of mine is when someone is faced with a non mainstream identity and they say “I don’t understand it but I respect it!” like i don’t think you realize what constantly being told “I fundamentally don’t understand you and am comfortable making no attempt to try!” does to a person.

[sadisthetic]

BURST💥

[the-physicality]

why would they schedule the canada game at the same time as the march madness final?

[arielmagicesi]

hey, do you want to lose money AND your will to live all for the opportunity to make very little money doing a job that everyone warns you will sap you of your will to live? try applying for teacher certification oh my GOD

[positivelyapunovexponent-good]

Okay why does this make so much sense???

I was diagnosed with autism when I was three years old and enrolled in an intensive ABA program, which attempted to use operant conditioning to train me out of acting autistic. One of the things that always confused me, reading over the ABA practitioner's notes decades later, is just how sweeping the category of "autistic problem behaviors" they were trying to extinguish in me was.

For instance, one such “autistic problem behavior” was my "reluctance to attend to non-preferred activities". When I was asked to do something I didn’t want to do, sometimes I would say 'no' or even cry before relenting and doing what I was told. Which is indeed uniquely disordered behavior, because neurotypical toddlers are famously obsequious angels who relish being ordered to do things they hate! (/sarcasm)

In all seriousness though, it's alarming that perfectly standard toddler stubbornness was something the ABA therapists felt they needed to condition out of me. It wasn't enough I learn to be indistinguishable from my non-autistic peers (which is already a messed up goal in its own right), the standard of “neurotypicality” I was told to aspire to seemed nothing short of being a perfectly obedient automaton. 

None of this made sense back when I thought neurotypicality was about normalcy. But it does now that I realize neurotypicality is, and always was, about control

it does more harm than good to prop up the myth of the ‘neurotypical’ who completes tasks cheerfully with no issues. this person is a capitalist fantasy. the more you define yourself in comparison to this myth the more you justify social structures staying the same with minor accommodations to the ‘exceptions’ and the continued pathologizing of discomfort under hostile conditions

[foxmulderautism]

urge to re-intro lover boy because i understand her better now.....this is why i am not built for wip intros because the minute it gets slightly outdated i am like NO NO NO DO NOT LOOK! but also omggggg new lover boy wip intro would be sooo fun and it's nearly valentines day too....valentines themed lover boy wip intro??? WAIT

[sizzlingsandwichperfection-blog]

It's still so weird to me that the guy who wrote the fault in our stars and experienced global adulation and then global reprobation from the backlash and everything from SNL skits to being soft canceled on tumblr ....

was me.

Like, that guy was me. He lived in the same house I live in. One time he walked down to the river and cried and then yelled at himself for crying because who cries about having such a ridiculously good life.

I guess my big takeaway from that whole experience is 1. past me gave current me a lot of opportunities and freedoms for which I am grateful, including the opportunity to support cool people doing cool stuff, and the freedom to write about whatever I want (a memoir in the form of five-star reviews! A book about tuberculosis and its discontents!).

And also 2. the actual experience of Proper Fame is so unpleasant that I do not know how anyone who lives with regular pop culturey fame continues to seek it after getting a good hit of it. I admire the people who do--they get to make a lot of difference in the world in many cases. I am just baffled by them.

I would like to write books that seek large audiences again someday, but I'm not sure I'll ever be able to. I may need to stay in these small happy places where I've been able to live over the last five years.

But the complicated and ever-evolving tension between on the one hand wanting to have my own life, a life that truly and fully belongs to me, and on the other hand wanting to make stuff that is beloved by people and useful to them and so on ... it's a hell of a labyrinth to navigate, and I'm nowhere near out of it.

[pucksandpower]

Nothing to Prove

Charles Leclerc x Vettel!Reader

Summary: it’s a tale as old as time — every female sports fan has been told to “prove” her fandom at least once in her life — but the man quizzing you quickly learns the error of his ways

The Miami sun beats down relentlessly as you make your way through the bustling paddock, your destination the familiar red and white of the Ferrari motorhome. The air buzzes with pre-race excitement, mechanics and team personnel darting about like worker bees in a particularly colorful hive.

You’re so focused on navigating the crowd that you almost don’t notice the young man who steps directly into your path, phone held aloft. His grin is a touch too smug for comfort.

“Excuse me, miss,” he says, voice dripping with false politeness. “Mind if I ask you a few questions for my TikTok?”

You hesitate, torn between ingrained courtesy and a gnawing sense of unease. “I’m actually in a bit of a hurry-”

“It’ll only take a minute,” he insists, already hitting record. “So, tell me, what’s your favorite thing about Formula 1?”

The question seems innocent enough, but there’s something in his tone that sets your teeth on edge. Still, you decide to play along for now. “Well, I love the strategy, the technology, the way the whole sport pushes the boundaries of what’s possible-”

He cuts you off with a laugh. “Come on, be honest. It’s the hot drivers, right? That’s why most girls watch.”

You blink, momentarily stunned by his blatant misogyny. “Excuse me?”

“No judgment!” He says, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I get it, they’re all rich and fit. But let’s see how much you really know. Who won the 1976 World Championship?”

You open your mouth to answer, but he barrels on.

“What’s the difference between understeer and oversteer? How many points do you get for fastest lap? Come on, if you’re a real fan, this should be easy!”

Your initial discomfort has morphed into full-blown anger. “Look, I don’t have to prove anything to you. My knowledge of the sport isn’t-”

“Ah, so you can’t answer,” he says, triumphant. “Just as I thought. Another pretty face here for the-”

“Is there a problem here?”

The smooth voice comes from just behind you, followed by the warmth of a familiar body pressing against your back. Strong arms wrap around your waist, and you instinctively lean into the embrace.

The TikToker’s eyes go wide as saucers as he takes in the newcomer. “You’re ... you’re ...”

“Charles Leclerc,” your boyfriend finishes for him, voice deceptively mild. “And you are ...”

The young man sputters, clearly thrown off his game. “I’m ... I mean... I was just asking your girl here some questions about F1.”

Charles’ arms tighten fractionally around you. “Is that so? Because from where I was standing, it sounded more like an interrogation.”

You turn your head slightly, meeting Charles’ gaze. His green eyes are blazing with a protective fury that makes your heart skip a beat.

“It’s fine,” you murmur. “He was just leaving.”

Charles raises an eyebrow at the TikToker, who’s looking increasingly desperate to be anywhere else. “You heard the lady.”

But the young man, perhaps realizing his video is about to become internet gold, rallies. “Wait! I mean, no offense, but how do we know she’s not just with you for the fame? Can she even name your teammate?”

You feel Charles tense behind you, but before he can speak, you’ve had enough. You step out of his embrace, squaring up to the TikToker.

“Carlos Sainz Jr.,” you say, voice hard. “Currently P4 in the championship. And since you’re so keen on quizzing people, James Hunt won in ‘76, understeer is when the front of the car doesn’t turn enough while oversteer is when the rear steps out too much, and you get one point for fastest lap if you finish in the top ten. Any other burning questions?”

The TikToker gapes at you, clearly unprepared for this turn of events. Charles, for his part, looks like he’s trying very hard not to laugh.

“I ... but ...” the young man stammers.

You press on, building up a head of steam. “Oh, and fun fact — my brother has four World Championships. But I’m sure you knew that, being such an expert and all.”

The TikToker’s face drains of color as realization dawns. “Your brother? You’re Sebastian Vettel’s sister?”

Charles can’t contain his amusement any longer. He laughs, the sound rich and warm. “I tried to warn you. You’ve awakened the beast.”

You shoot him a mock glare. “You’re not helping.”

He holds up his hands in surrender, still grinning. “Far be it from me to interfere with your righteous fury. Please, continue.”

The TikToker looks like he wants the ground to swallow him whole. “I ... I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize-”

“That women can be genuine fans?” You interrupt. “That we might actually understand and love the sport for its own sake? Or just that you shouldn’t make assumptions about people based on their gender?”

He winces. “All of the above?”

Charles steps forward, placing a hand on your shoulder. The touch is gentle, but there’s steel in his voice when he speaks. “I think it’s time for you to go. And delete that video while you’re at it.”

The young man nods frantically, fumbling with his phone. In his haste to retreat, he trips over his own feet, sprawling ungracefully on the ground. Charles moves to help him up, ever the gentleman, but you put a restraining hand on his arm.

“Let him sort himself out,” you mutter. “A little humiliation might do him some good.”

Charles chuckles, pulling you close. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

As the TikToker scrambles away, face burning with embarrassment, you allow yourself to relax into Charles’ embrace. The adrenaline of the confrontation leaves you feeling a bit shaky.

“You okay?” Charles asks softly, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You nod, letting out a long breath. “Yeah. Just ... frustrated. Why do people still think like that?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I wish I knew. It’s not fair, the assumptions people make.”

“It’s not just about me,” you say, turning to face him fully. “It’s about all the female fans out there who get treated like this. Who get quizzed and belittled and have their passion questioned at every turn.”

Charles nods, his expression serious. “You’re right. It’s a bigger problem than just one idiot with a TikTok account.”

“Sometimes I wonder if it will ever change,” you admit, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over you.

Charles cups your face in his hands, his touch impossibly gentle. “It will,” he says with conviction. “Because of people like you who stand up and call it out. Who refuse to let ignorance go unchallenged.”

You lean into his touch, allowing yourself a small smile. “When did you get so wise?”

He grins, some of his usual playfulness returning. “I have my moments. Don’t tell anyone though, it’ll ruin my reputation.”

You laugh, the tension finally starting to dissipate. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Charles leans in, resting his forehead against yours. “I’m proud of you, you know,” he murmurs. “The way you handled that ... it was impressive.”

“Yeah?” You ask, a hint of vulnerability creeping into your voice.

“Absolutely,” he says firmly. “You were brilliant. Fierce. Passionate.” His voice drops lower, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Incredibly sexy.”

You swat his arm playfully. “Behave yourself, Leclerc. We’re in public.”

He affects an innocent expression that doesn’t fool you for a second. “I’m always on my best behavior.”

You snort. “That’s what worries me.”

Charles laughs, the sound bright and carefree. It never fails to make your heart soar. He takes your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. “Come on, let’s get to the motorhome. I think we both could use a moment of peace before the craziness really begins.”

As you walk hand in hand through the paddock, you can’t help but reflect on the incident. It leaves a sour taste in your mouth, but there’s also a spark of hope. Because for every misogynistic TikToker, there are countless fans — of all backgrounds — who love the sport for what it is. Who appreciate the skill, the strategy, the sheer spectacle of it all.

And maybe, just maybe, standing up to ignorance one interaction at a time is how change really happens.

Charles squeezes your hand, pulling you from your thoughts. “What’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours?”

You smile, leaning into him slightly as you walk. “Just thinking about how lucky I am. To be here, doing what I love. To have people in my life who support me and believe in me.”

He brings your joined hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “The luck goes both ways, mon cœur. You make me better, on and off the track.”

As you approach the Ferrari motorhome, its bright red a beacon in the sea of team colors, you feel a renewed sense of purpose. There will always be challenges, always be those who try to tear others down. But with love, determination, and a refusal to back down from what’s right, anything is possible.

Even changing the world of Formula 1, one small interaction at a time.

[zeroseuniverse]

Teaming Up

Word Count: 1.1K Summary: “We won’t rely on luck. We’re ready for them.” Pairing: Changbin X reader X Chan

Disclaimer: Please be aware that this is apart of the from the ashes series. This series will have aspects of violence, weapons, angst, blood, injuries, killing, and will heavily focus on oppression and segregation of mutants, Look after your mental state if any of these make you uncomfortable please.

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The world was changing.

Mutants were becoming more and more common, and not in the way the government wanted. It wasn’t just about the ability to bend metal or summon storms anymore. People like you, with abilities that couldn’t even be categorized, were becoming more feared than celebrated. The Vanguard Corps had ramped up their campaign to control these mutants, and the fear they instilled in society was enough to keep people at home, with their doors locked tight.

But not you.

You weren’t one to cower. No matter how much the world shifted, how oppressive things became, you had no intention of hiding who you were. That meant dealing with the occasional conflict, but you always found a way to escape the worst of it. And besides, you weren’t alone.

Changbin and Chan had become your closest allies over the past few months. Changbin’s ability to manipulate fire was intense, and his temper even more so. His flames could scorch anything in their path, but his heart—while fiery—was protective. Chan, on the other hand, had the gift of enhanced agility and reflexes, moving like a shadow through the chaos of the world. His calm demeanor was a contrast to Changbin’s explosive nature, but the two of them together were unstoppable.

You’d first met them under tense circumstances. Changbin had nearly set fire to a government building in a fit of frustration over the increasing oppression, and Chan had to talk him down before things escalated. You’d been standing in the shadows, watching, when they’d both turned and realized they weren’t alone.

“Who are you?” Chan had asked, his sharp eyes narrowing as he studied you.

You’d just shrugged, unimpressed. “Just someone who knows what it’s like to not fit in.”

Since that day, the three of you had formed an unspoken bond. Chan was the calm one, always planning and thinking ahead. Changbin was the fire—impatient, quick to react, but fiercely loyal. And you? Well, your abilities didn’t fit into any neat little box. You could manipulate time in subtle ways, bending it just enough to slow down or speed up events, giving you the upper hand when it was needed. It was a power that came in handy, especially when they got into trouble—which, let’s be honest, was often.

One evening, the tension in the air was palpable. The city felt like it was on the edge of something, like the calm before a storm. You were all holed up in the safehouse you’d found, waiting for the inevitable.

“Do you think they’ll come tonight?” Changbin asked, his voice low as he flicked his lighter on and off, watching the flame dance in his palm.

“They’ve been getting closer,” you replied, pulling a blanket over your shoulders as you sat down next to Chan, who was meticulously studying a map of the city. “The Vanguard Corps is always on the hunt for new mutants. We’ve been lucky so far.”

Chan raised an eyebrow, his voice calm but firm. “We won’t rely on luck. We’re ready for them.”

You gave him a soft smile, admiring how composed he always was, even in the most stressful situations. But you couldn’t deny the tension building in your chest. Tonight felt different. The air was thick with uncertainty, and you could feel it in your bones.

Changbin broke the silence, his voice gruff. “I don’t care how many of them show up. I’ll burn them all to the ground if it comes to that.”

“Don’t,” Chan warned, his voice steady, though you could hear the hint of concern. “We can’t just burn everything down. We need to be smart.”

You shifted in your seat, trying to keep the conversation from escalating. “Chan’s right. We’re better off being strategic than going in guns blazing. We have a lot to lose, and we can’t afford to waste our chances.”

Changbin huffed but nodded, his fiery eyes softening just a fraction. “I know. I just… get frustrated, you know? It’s hard not to just act.”

You placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I get it. But we’ll face it together. No matter what happens.”

Chan turned to you, his expression unreadable, but there was warmth in his eyes. “You’re right. We’ve got this. We’re stronger together.”

As the night wore on, the three of you sat in tense silence, each lost in your own thoughts. The world outside felt like it was about to explode, but the safehouse—your little sanctuary—felt like the only place left that was still yours.

Hours passed before you finally heard it. The distant sound of heavy boots marching, the faint hum of hovering vehicles in the air. The Vanguard Corps had arrived.

“Here we go,” Changbin muttered, his flames flickering in his palms. His body was tense, like a spring ready to snap.

You stood up, closing your eyes for a moment, focusing on the subtle manipulation of time. You could feel it—it was like the world around you was holding its breath. With a steadying breath, you opened your eyes. “Let’s go. It’s time.”

The three of you moved as one, slipping out of the safehouse and into the darkened streets. Chan led the way, his agile movements barely making a sound as he scouted ahead. Changbin followed, the air around him crackling with the heat of his flames, ready to ignite at any moment. You brought up the rear, your mind racing, knowing you’d have to be ready to twist time at a moment’s notice to give them an edge.

When you finally encountered the Vanguard Corps, it was a blur of action.

Changbin surged forward, his flames bursting out of him with a roar, creating a wall of fire that stopped the soldiers in their tracks. But Chan was quicker, darting between the soldiers, taking them down with swift, precise strikes. You twisted time, slowing the movements of the soldiers just enough to give your team the upper hand. It was a dance—a dangerous, chaotic dance—but it felt like home.

The fight raged on for what felt like hours, but eventually, the Vanguard Corps retreated, their forces scattering in the wake of the three of you. You stood there, panting, your chest heaving as you watched them flee.

“We did it,” Changbin said, his voice hoarse but triumphant.

Chan nodded, but his expression was more serious. “We did. But this isn’t over.”

You looked between them, feeling a deep sense of gratitude for the bond the three of you shared. In a world that was growing more oppressive by the day, it was moments like this that reminded you why you fought.

“You’re not alone,” Chan said quietly, meeting your eyes. “We’ll fight this, together.”

Changbin’s lips curled into a grin, his fiery eyes softening. “Yeah. Together.”

And with that, you walked into the night, ready for whatever came next, knowing that with them by your side, there was nothing you couldn’t face.

[leona-hawthorne]

LEONA-HAWTHORNE’S FICMAS

december 4th. theodore nott — kiss it better.

theodore nott x fem reader

summary ; he doesn’t mind using extreme measures to get you to put your lips on his. word count ; 2.6k warnings ; fluff, kissing, mentions of blood

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Theodore never quite knew what to do with the attention you gave him.

There you were, sitting across from him in the library, your hair falling forward as you scribbled down notes, lost in thought. He should’ve been focused on his own work, on the potions essay that was due tomorrow, but he couldn’t help himself. His gaze kept drifting back to you. Every time your quill scratched the parchment or your lips pressed together in concentration, his chest tightened. You had a way of drawing him in, pulling him closer with every small, unconscious movement.

It wasn’t like he’d never noticed you before. You had always been part of the group, hovering on the edges of conversations, offering sharp comments when the boys got too ridiculous, but you never quite entered Theo’s orbit like this. Now, though? Now, he was starting to realize that he’d been wrong to overlook you. You were too… soft. Too gentle in a world that had taught him to be hard, distant. It made him feel things he wasn’t used to feeling.

Then it happened—something so small, so insignificant that it shouldn’t have left a mark on him, but it did.

A paper cut.

He didn’t even flinch as the thin slice formed on his finger while rifling through his notes. Theo muttered a low curse under his breath, instinctively moving to press his thumb against it, but before he could do anything, you noticed.

“You okay?” you asked, your voice warm, as though you had known him for ages. 

Theo blinked, unsure why you were even asking. “Just a paper cut.”

A small smile tugged at your lips as you set your quill down and leaned forward. “Want me to kiss it and make it feel better?”

For a split second, he thought you were joking. He stared at you, unsure how to respond. That wasn’t the kind of offer people made to him. Kisses didn’t fix anything—not the way his childhood had been, not the way life worked now. But the way you looked at him, playful yet sincere, made something stir in his chest.

“That works?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

 You laughed lightly, like it was the simplest thing in the world. “Sure it does. My mom used to do it for me when I was little. Worked like a charm.”

The mention of your mom caught him off guard. His own memories of his mother were hazy, distant, like an old photograph left out in the sun for too long. He couldn’t remember if she had ever kissed his cuts, couldn’t remember if anyone had ever cared for him like that. Affection had always been scarce in the Nott household. His mother had been gone for a long time, and the little acts of tenderness you described had died with her.

You stood and walked around the table. He didn’t know why he didn’t stop you, didn’t say something sarcastic or brush it off. 

“It’s no big deal,” he muttered, trying to pull his hand away, but you held it gently, your fingers warm against his.

“Let me see,” you said softly, and he couldn’t find it in himself to argue. He held his breath as you leaned down, your lips brushing over his finger in the softest kiss. The contact was fleeting, a whisper of warmth, but it sent his mind reeling. He didn’t understand why something so simple, so childlike, could make him feel… different.

“There,” you said, your voice light as you pulled back. “All better.”

He could only stare at you, his throat suddenly tight. “Yeah… thanks.”

You smiled, returning to your seat like nothing had happened, like you hadn’t just unknowingly changed something in him. Theo’s gaze lingered on you, the phantom of your lips still tingling on his skin. He didn’t know how to process it. No one had ever looked at him that way, treated him that way. 

But he knew one thing for sure—he wanted to feel that again.

The next day, Theo’s mind was still replaying that moment, over and over. It had awakened something inside him, something that ached for more, and before he knew it, he found himself searching for a way to feel it again. This time, though, he didn’t want a kiss on the hand. He wanted more.

Theo found Draco leaning against one of the stone walls outside. He approached him with a strange sort of determination, one that was equal parts reckless and desperate. Draco raised an eyebrow when he saw Theo approaching.

“Need something, Nott?” Draco drawled, clearly amused by the look on Theo’s face.

Theo didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “Punch me,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Draco blinked, clearly taken aback. “What?”

“I need you to punch me,” Theo repeated, his voice steady despite the absurdity of the request.

“Alright, gladly, but why?”

Theo swallowed, his throat dry. He knew it was ridiculous, that this whole plan was absurd, but he needed this to happen. He needed you to kiss him again, to care again. "Just... trust me. I need a bruise, a cut, something that’ll make her—” He cut himself off, his face heating up.

Draco’s smirk only widened, a glint of realization flashing in his eyes. “Ah. Her.” He stood up straighter, clearly intrigued. “So, you’re finally doing something about it. You want me to punch you so she’ll fuss over you. Clever.”

“Just do it, will you?” Theo muttered, trying to ignore the heat creeping up his neck.

Draco shrugged, but there was a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “If you insist.” Without further warning, Draco’s fist came flying toward Theo’s face. He didn’t hold back either—Theo barely had time to register the motion before pain exploded in his mouth. 

He stumbled backward, his hand flying to his lip. Blood welled up immediately, the sharp sting spreading across his jaw.

“Merlin’s beard,” Theo muttered, his vision momentarily swimming. “I said punch me, not break my damn face.”

Draco stepped back, grinning like he had just done Theo the biggest favor in the world. “There. You’re welcome.”

Theo wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, already thinking about what would come next. He didn’t care about the pain. He didn’t care about anything except the idea of you seeing him like this—hurt, vulnerable—and caring for him again.

He found you in the common room later that day, sitting in your usual spot near the fireplace. You didn’t see him at first—too absorbed in the book you were reading, a small frown of concentration on your face. 

Theo hesitated for a second, suddenly feeling nervous. What if this was a mistake? What if you didn’t react the way he hoped?

But then you looked up, and your eyes immediately widened in shock as you took in the sight of him—blood smeared on his lip, a fresh bruise forming on his jaw.

“Theo!” you gasped, your book forgotten as you rushed over to him. “What happened? Are you okay?”

He tried to shrug it off, leaning casually against the arm of the couch, though the pain in his mouth made it hard to play it cool. “Got into a fight. No big deal.”

You didn’t look convinced. Your fingers hovered near his face, concern etched into your features. “Does it hurt?”

Theo could feel his heart pounding, his mouth dry as the moment he’d been waiting for arrived. His voice was lower than he intended as he muttered, “A little… are you… are you not gonna kiss it better?”

Your expression softened, that same playful smile from the day before returning. “Again, huh?” 

You leaned in, your eyes flicking to his lips, and Theo’s pulse quickened. When your lips brushed his, it was soft, cautious, but this time there was something more to it—something that made the ache in his lip completely disappear.

And just like that, Theo knew he was done for.

Your lips lingered for a moment longer than necessary, and it was enough to set Theo’s blood humming. The softness of your touch felt like a balm, not just for the bruise but for something deeper—something buried in the recesses of his mind that he didn’t want to examine too closely.

When you pulled back, your gaze met his, a flicker of something unreadable crossing your face. Concern? Amusement? Theo couldn’t tell. But what he did know was that he didn’t want that moment to end. Not yet.

"You really need to stop getting into fights," you murmured, shaking your head with a small, exasperated smile. "What were you even thinking?"

Theo almost laughed at the irony. He couldn’t very well tell you the truth—that the whole thing had been orchestrated just for this. Just for the briefest chance to feel your lips on his. 

Instead, he shrugged, playing it off. "You know how it is. Slytherins and Gryffindors don’t mix well."

You rolled your eyes, but there was a softness behind it, something that made Theo’s chest tighten in that unfamiliar way again. “One of these days, you’re going to get yourself hurt for real, and then I won’t be able to kiss it better.”

That sent a jolt of warmth through him, stronger than the pain in his lip. He let the silence stretch between you for a moment, watching as you shifted nervously under his gaze.

"Maybe," he said slowly, his voice low, "I just like the way you kiss me."

Your eyes widened slightly at that, a faint blush creeping across your cheeks. Theo smirked inwardly, relishing the way his words seemed to fluster you. You always had a quick response for everything, but now you were quiet, your lips parting as though you weren’t sure what to say.

“I—” you started, your voice trailing off as you looked down at your hands.

Theo’s heart pounded in his chest. He wanted to reach out, to grab your wrist and pull you back in, to kiss you again but for real this time—not as some excuse to soothe a bruise or a cut.

Before you could speak, a voice cut through the tension like a knife.

“Well, look at you two,” Draco drawled as he strolled into the common room, clearly interrupting something he knew full well was important. “What did I say, Nott? You’re welcome, by the way.”

Theo shot Draco a glare, a deep scowl crossing his face. Of course he had to show up now, just when things were starting to move in the direction he wanted.

You, however, looked between them, confusion evident on your face. “What’s he talking about?”

Before Theo could respond, Draco answered for him, leaning casually against the wall with that insufferable grin. “Oh, nothing. Just that Nott here got himself punched on purpose. Quite the romantic, isn’t he?”

Theo’s heart dropped. He glared at Draco, fury bubbling up in his chest. “Shut it, Malfoy.”

But it was too late. You were already staring at Theo, your eyes wide with disbelief. “Wait… what?”

Theo tried to backtrack, scrambling for some sort of excuse, but he wasn’t fast enough. You took a step back, your brows furrowed in confusion as realization slowly dawned on you.

"You… you let someone punch you just so I’d…?"

The color drained from Theo’s face as he saw the pieces falling into place in your mind.

“I—” he began, his voice unsteady, “It’s not like that.”

You crossed your arms, staring at him like you were trying to decide whether to be angry, amused, or something in between. “Theo, what the hell were you thinking?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking. I just… I wanted—” He cut himself off again, feeling ridiculous. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

But you were still looking at him, waiting for an answer, and the weight of your gaze was too much to bear.

“I wanted you to kiss me,” Theo muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your expression softened, the confusion giving way to something else—something gentler. You uncrossed your arms and took a step closer, your eyes searching his face.

"You could’ve just asked," you said softly, a hint of a smile tugging at your lips.

Theo blinked, thrown off by your reaction. He had expected you to be angry, maybe even laugh and walk away. But there you were, looking at him with something that felt dangerously close to fondness.

“You… wouldn’t have laughed at me?” he asked, his voice rough with uncertainty.

You shook your head, your smile growing. “No, Theo. I wouldn’t have laughed.”

Theo didn’t know what to say to that. For a long moment, he just stood there, staring at you, the words dying in his throat. He felt foolish, standing in front of you like this, bruised and vulnerable, all because he didn’t know how to ask for something he wanted so badly.

But then you reached out, your hand gently brushing against his bruised lip again, and all the embarrassment, all the uncertainty melted away.

“If you wanted me to kiss you,” you murmured, stepping even closer, “all you had to do was say so.”

When your lips finally met his, it wasn’t like before. This wasn’t a kiss to make anything better. This was a kiss because you both wanted it.

Theo’s hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss. You responded instantly, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pressed yourself against him, and Theo felt like he was drowning, lost in the feel of you, in the way you kissed him like you’d been waiting for this as long as he had.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together. “Yeah, I still don’t regret anything,” he muttered.

You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his lips again. “Next time, just ask, Theo. No more getting hurt.”

Theo nodded, his heart still racing as he held you close, a grin tugging at his lips. “Deal.”

​​ficmas taglist: @winnie1emon @ur-local-wizard @satosugu4-ever @ankoluvs @superstargirll @slytherin-princess-x @abeoavita @mattheoriddle101 @georgiastars13 @smoooore @mattheoriddles-sluttt @2dloveshp @mattysprincess @catching-fire-in-the-wind

© leona-hawthorne 2025. please do not copy, translate or repost any of my writing.

[askshivanulegacy]

This. The two things you can do to actually change things are to go vote and to get yourself into political boards and offices.

How many people whining about the status quo actually bother to change it in a meaningful way? Almost none? That's what I thought.

It's not like it's particularly hard to do something, either. But Tumblr persists in useless, childish fantasies, from murdering rich people to drowning Americans in the sea.

If you can't mature your thinking and the actions you're willing to spend time and effort on, you will be left behind by those who will because they will outgrow their interest in you. They will be out there doing real things about real stuff and tumblrites will still be on the sofa, whining about literal nonsense.

“LOL. You think your vote matters? ROFL and LOL.” Yes, I am aware my vote carries less and less relative power the more people I’m voting with, but unlike your glorious violent revolution, it actually exists.