#helpful slytherins

[exoras-deus]

And they were roommates :)

Trust them to be the only ones not knowing they're dating yet. Regulus, Dorcas and Pandora be watching on the side, betting on whether they're gonna figure out their feelings before the end of their school years or not.

Honestly, at that point, even the Gryffindors have joined the bet. Months ago. Lost. And then have the time to bet again. Remus is betting they're gonna get married before finding out they're in love.

Oblivious Rosekiller for the win, always :]

Btw I headcannon Barty as taller (and tall, TALL, like, Remus level tall) no one is gonna change my mind. Maybe Evan is a bit too tall in this drawing, even.

If want to see more, you can find me on Instagram and Tik tok under the same usernames!

[iniquitousyearning]

everyone wants to be fucked by tom riddle until that man has you pinned underneath him while fucking you so deep you’re feeling him in your stomach and he’s gripping you so tight you’re sure your skin is going to turn purple but he doesn’t even notice because he’s so fucking lost in the warmth of your cunt that he’s got his head buried in your neck and he’s growling something in parseltongue that makes you think hes trying to conjure the basilisk itself, singlehandedly ignoring every whimper and whine that effortlessly makes it past your lips as he sinks his teeth into the skin of your shoulder because salazar fucking sakes you just feel so fucking good he doesn’t know what to do with himself besides breed you as many fucking times as he can and mark you in every possible way he can think of.

[not-rab]

[dyl-z]

48 | 49

Rosekiller nation this one is for you

[lupiinist]

barty is a great cook.

like, not only because his mum taught him how to cook (gets even better if you hc him as italian or spanish [or latino, too]), but also because his friends can't cook even if their lives depended on it

regulus is a menace in the kitchen, he once burned a kettle trying to make tea, evan is too lazy to try to learn, pandora was banned from the kitchen after making something (no one really knows what it was) that got them all sick, and dorcas can do the basic, but she likes having barty cook for her

it surprises a lot of people when they learn it that that goth, punk, edgy, slightly off guy with too many piercings and tattoos to count could be the chef of his own restaurant if he wanted to. his specialty is main dishes, he's superb with pasta and meat, but also rocks the desserts

he bonded with james over food, because james is also the cook of his group of friends (he makes the most amazing desi dishes [which i won't go into much detail because honestly it's 3 am and i can't research properly right now])

opposite to what many people think, the skittles rarely order food when they're hanging out together. barty almost always cooks. more than knowing how to, he likes to cook. it's something he shares with his mum, something his father never had any influence over (after all, he was never home during supper)

most of all, barty loves to cook for evan. evan is the type of person who tends to either get into hyperfocus and forgets to eat or has a very bad week and forgets to eat. either way, he doesn't take good care of himself. barty helps by popping up in his house, making him get up from the couch and help him in the kitchen. evan doesn't cook, but he sorts the ingredients out and occasionally chops a tomato (not onions though, he hates how they make him cry). he makes barty company, and they both have slightly better weeks just because of that

so, in the end, barty loves to cook.

[lenorashore]

WiP

[viperify]

Smutmas 2024 | ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ X ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

It’s cold out.

Short summary: Tom doesn’t quite approve of your way of coping.

A/N: just a small drabble to honour 3rd of December. fluffy fluff Tom.

wordcount: 0,6k

It’s cold outside as you wander around Hogwarts’ grounds, the snow crunching under your feet. Something you have, unlike most other people, found solace in during this time of the year. Christmas, a festival of love and peace. You exhale deeply at that thought, your breath forming a small cloud in the crisp winter air.

Ever since you were left behind at Wool’s orphanage, Christmas has been meaningless. The best – and only – present you’d received was your Hogwarts acceptance letter, which meant you could finally leave that place behind.

You sit down on the curb of the well, the frozen bricks numbing any feeling you had left in your legs. Maybe that was why you love winter after all. A thick layer of powdered snow covers the otherwise lush green grass, your winter boots working to free some of it. Your fingers feel stiff as you brush snowflakes off your already soaked trousers, knowing it would soon be time to go back inside, returning to an empty dorm. Your friends have gone home for the holidays, as they do every year. They had asked you whether you wanted to join them, but you declined. As you do every year.

You close your eyes, focusing solely on what you feel and hear. A gentle breeze brushes against your rosy cheeks, sending a shiver through your body. From a distance you can hear the students’ owls. You smile softly. You had never needed an owl.

Then, you hear calculated footsteps advancing towards you, overshadowing the birds’ hoots. You know who it is.

Tom, who just like you had come from the orphanage. You two have gotten on well ever since the day you received your letter, although he was quite reserved and rarely spoke. Sometimes, when he sensed you were outside in the freezing weather he would join you, tell you to come back inside. Mostly, you would listen.

He sits down beside you, as he always does. Slowly, you open your eyes and turn to face him, but he doesn’t reciprocate. You take in his form as he is sitting there, hands hidden in the pockets of his signature black coat that he is wearing over his grey sweater. You have always adored the way he puts himself together.

Then, he breaks the silence between you two with his usual phrase. “Let’s go back inside. It’s cold out.”

You shake your head. “I would like to stay.”

Tom nods slightly, and you both sit there for a few more minutes before another soft breeze of wind brushes past you and you can’t help but shiver. He then turns and even though you weren’t looking at him, you could feel his eyes burning through you. Finally, he sighs, withdrawing his hand from the pocket. Tom shifts his gaze down to his black leather shoes, and carefully reaches out to envelop your hand in his.

“You are freezing.” He remarks, squeezing you slightly. In contrast to yours, his hand was warm, almost burning on your numb skin. Tom has always kept his safe distance to you, which you didn’t mind. But this? It was the best feeling you could have imagined.

“I don’t mind, you know I don’t.” You whisper, and he huffs slightly in return, pulling his hand back. “But I do.”

You miss the warmth of his skin on yours as soon as you are exposed to the biting cold again, turning your head towards him as he stands up. Tom then rids himself of his coat and wraps it around you, the thick fabric immediately returning some of the heat to your body. Before you can say anything, he pulls you up by your hands, even then feeling the warmth radiating from the brunette in front of you. He looks down at you, a soft smile visible on his lips.

“Come on now. Or it’s me who’s freezing to death.”

[cruxxio]

"Matty!!" "Not my fault you're too short, Princess." (x)

[slutforcleo]

sloppy make outs with mattheo

he’s got you straddling him, his hands on your hips as he gently grinds you into his raging boner. It honestly hadn’t took much to get him hard. just you running around hogwarts with your little skirt. but now you two are in his dorm, desperately eating each others faces. He’d let out little groans when your thinly clothed clit would rub over his cock perfectly. the mess from your panties seeped through to mattheo’s pants. leaving a little wet patch.

he swore he could cum the right now if he wanted too, just from the feeling of you on his groin. the feeling of your hands running through his curls made his heart stutter in his chest. he knew he wasn’t going to last long, especially like this. but he keeps his hands you you hip pulling you forward onto him. just like he likes it.

[stqrgirlie0]

Hey siri, play ‘That Should Be Me’ by Justin Bieber😫😣

#that should be mee #holdin yo hand #that should be mee #makin you laugh #that should be me.

[ilovecatfr]

Hogwarts shifting motivation

Common rooms Motivation

Genuinely informative~ even teachers need permission to get into the common room (unless they are the head of the house)

Slytherin

Slytherin common rooms are a good place for curious aquatic animals& creatures

{Example: mermaids coming to tap on class}

Imagine the afternoon light that gonna come through the water and how it gonna look

It the biggest common room

Being closest to potions class

There’s a hidden window that looks out into the depths of the Black Lake, allowing students to watch Grindylows and the Giant Squid pass by. Sometimes, an eerie glow from underwater plants illuminates the room at night.

The Serpent’s Whisper: If you listen carefully near the fireplace, you can hear a hissing sound—a remnant of an old Parseltongue spell cast by Salazar Slytherin himself. Some say it whispers advice to ambitious students

THE AESTHETIC OF IT/ DETAILS FOR IMAGINATION

Elegant and mysterious, with emerald-green lamps casting an eerie, calming glow. The room has a cold, sleek beauty, with high-backed leather chairs, silver accents, and tapestries depicting famous Slytherins and legendary beasts.

Furnishings: Green velvet armchairs and polished silver tables are arranged around a central fireplace carved with serpentine details. There are also large glass cases displaying rare magical objects collected by past Slytherin alumni.

Motivational Vibe: The Slytherin common room feels like a home for the ambitious and resourceful. It inspires cleverness, self-confidence, and power—a place for those unafraid to stand out and make their mark.

Hufflepuff

That common room is closest to kitchen so sneaking in to get snacks

hufflepuffs are known for having good weed (shifters confirmed)

When someone tries to enter the common room and press a wrong barrier they get covered in vinegar / to get in you need to tap barrier in rhythm of "Helga Hufflepuff"

A rumor has it that when a room is quiet enough you can hear humming~ a spell Helga Hufflepuff casted centuries ago to bring calmness to her house

THE AESTHETIC OF IT/ DETAILS FOR IMAGINATION

Warm and earthy, with lots of natural light filtering in through circular windows that open up to the Hogwarts grounds. It has a cottage-like charm, filled with lush plants, earthy tones, and the smell of freshly baked bread.

Furnishings: Soft, overstuffed sofas and cushions are scattered around. The tables are made from reclaimed wood, polished to a warm honey glow. Herbology books and gardening tools are kept on hand for anyone interested in plant care.

Motivational Vibe: The Hufflepuff common room is all about kindness, resilience, and loyalty. It’s perfect if you’re looking for a family-like environment where everyone supports each other. You’ll feel nurtured, grounded, and at peace.

Gryffindor

Imagine the fat lady’s joke every time before you enter and even riddles occasionally

Being Dumbledore favourite lmao

The secret door to Astronomy Tower~ There’s a narrow stairwell hidden behind a tapestry of Godric Gryffindor that leads up to the Astronomy Tower. It’s a favorite spot for stargazing on clear nights.

If you press the right spot on lions statue, a roar will fill the common room. Usually used before Quidditch matches and wins.

THE AESTHETIC OF IT/ DETAILS FOR IMAGINATION

Warm, cozy, and golden. Rich, ruby-red carpets cover the stone floors, and tapestries of legendary Gryffindors and courageous battles adorn the walls. A crackling fireplace is almost always lit, making it feel like a comforting, eternal hearth

Furnishings: Armchairs with plush cushions, covered in deep scarlet, are arranged in small clusters, perfect for gathering with friends. A large, golden lion statue stands near the entrance as a symbol of Gryffindor bravery.

Motivational Vibe: Gryffindor common room feels like a constant cheerleader, pushing you to be brave, adventurous, and loyal. It’s filled with energy, perfect for anyone who loves challenges and dreams of leaving a legacy.

Revenclaw

Imagine it being late at night and you are watching the celling as it has the same effects as great hall celling

Imagine seeing owls flying outside your window

Every window view being absolutely beautiful

If you recite a specific incantation, a spiral staircase appears near the bookshelf, leading to a hidden observatory. It’s the best spot in Hogwarts to view meteor showers or auroras. They call it the staircase of stars.

Rumor has it that a spellbook hidden centuries ago is still somewhere within the common room’s library shelves. Legend says only the wisest Ravenclaw can uncover its secrets.

THE AESTHETIC OF IT/ DETAILS FOR IMAGINATION

Elegant and airy, with tall, arched windows that give a panoramic view of the mountains and lake. The room is decorated in hues of silver, blue, and soft ivory, with a ceiling enchanted to resemble the night sky.

Furnishings: Sleek, polished wood tables for studying, with quills and inkpots always available. Softly glowing blue and white lamps cast an ethereal light over the room, making it feel like a dreamy nightscape.

Motivational Vibe: Ravenclaw common room is a heaven for those who love to think, dream, and explore the mysteries of magic. It’s an inspiring environment for those who strive for wisdom, originality, and creativity.

{these are from my dr and from I found online- so it may not be canon but feel free to script}

[bri-cheeses]

Fiercely and obsessively (wrapped around your finger) — Part 9

| Rosekiller Soulmate AU | Previous part is here | Word Count: 1,139 |

-

The Shrieking Shack was an odd place, but one couldn’t deny that it was interesting. Barty could at least give it that, considering it’s lean and twisting frame, broken windows, and overall foreboding presence as he made his way closer, stopping at the fence that kept any onlookers at a safe distance away. He could kind of understand what drew Evan to it, just a little bit, its cold atmosphere at odds with the sunny day.

“You know,” said Barty, still gazing at the house, “I’ve never known why it’s called the Shrieking Shack.”

Behind him, he heard a stick crunch as Evan came to stand beside him. He leaned his forearms against the fence and began to speak.

“Well, they say that every night on the full moon, screams come from inside it. Hence the name Shrieking Shack. The townspeople think it’s ghosts, but I don’t think so.”

“What do you think it is?” Barty asked, curious. He didn’t bother looking back at the shack—no, his full focus was on Evan.

“I don’t know,” Evan said. “But not ghosts.”

“Not ghosts,” Barty murmured.

And maybe it was the way the sunlight was lighting up Evan’s hair, or maybe it was the way his eyes were shining with ideas, or maybe it was simply the fact that Evan was here, right next to him, after having been acting strangely for days, but Barty couldn’t help himself from lifting his hand. It felt as if watching from underwater as he reached out towards Evan, not even sure what he was about to do, just that Evan was there and that he wanted him to be closer—

“What are you doing?!”

Barty recoiled back.

“I—”

“No. Why did you do that?” Evan’s voice was filled with fear, and his eyes were darting from Barty’s face to his hand and back again. And really, wasn’t that an overreaction? It wasn’t as if Barty was doing anything bad or malicious, and yet Evan was acting as if he had caught him swinging a knife toward him.

Anger rose up suddenly and viciously, coating his throat and words as he retorted, “I could ask you the same exact thing! You’ve been doing that for days! Every time I get even slightly close to you, you leap back like I’m about to bite! It’s insane, Evan.”

“Oh, I’m insane, am I?”

“Yes, you are!”

Evan’s nostrils flared. “Really? What’s your evidence?”

“This! ” Barty placed both hands flat on Evan’s chest—or, he tried to, except Evan got to him first, shoving him backwards. Barty stumbled back several steps, glaring at Evan.

“Get off me,” Evan snapped. His chest was heaving like he had run a long distance, and for some reason, that made Barty even angrier.

“Oh?” Barty said, and took a step forward. Evan took a step back. “Does this bother you?” He took another step.

“Leave me alone,” Evan snarled at him. And then started to turn around to leave.

And that was the final straw for Barty.

He darted forward and fisted a hand in the side of Evan’s shirt, preventing him from running off.

What it didn’t prevent Evan from was violently whirling around and shoving Barty back with all the strength that being absolutely, irrevocably furious gave him.

Barty barely had time to process it before his feet were falling out from under him, and no matter how much he scrambled for a foothold, there was nothing that he could do to keep from falling.

And Evan, whose shirt was still in Barty’s hands, couldn’t do anything to keep from falling either.

Evan’s hands shot out to break his fall, but Barty hit the ground, hard. The breath left him all in one go, and he couldn’t even muster up the triumph that came with knowing that Evan was finally touching him and not immediately running off.

Evan’s soft “Oh,” drew Barty’s gaze straight to his face. And again, the breath left him.

Evan was practically lying on top of him, the only thing keeping them from being fully in contact being his hands, which bracketed either side of Barty’s arms. Evan’s eyes were pinned on Barty’s, his mouth slightly open, and he was so close that Barty could count his eyelashes if he wanted to.

A hush fell over them as they lay there, staring at each other in silence. It was like a sorcerer had put them under some spell, one that Barty didn’t feel much like disrupting.

All at once, however, that magical spell was broken as Evan seemingly realized something and scrambled up off of him, backing away like a cornered animal.

“No,” he said. “No, no, no no no no no no—”

He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, breathing hard, but his muttering didn’t stop.

“No no no no—”

“Evan?” Barty asked, worried. He pushed up onto his hands, confused and taken aback by the sudden change in atmosphere. If he didn’t know better, he’d almost say that Evan was… afraid. “What is it?”

Evan closed his eyes even tighter. “No no no—”

“Evan!” Barty said. He was starting to get seriously worried, and it reflected in his tone. Yet Evan still didn’t stop his mantra.

And so Barty shoved himself up and approached Evan slowly, murmuring, “Hey. It’s okay, there’s nothing wrong, okay?”

Evan shook his head sharply. His eyes were still closed.

“Evan?” Barty asked, and cautiously placed his hands on Evan’s shoulders.

Evan’s eyes flew open and latched onto Barty’s face as if it were a lifeline.

Barty searched his expression for understanding, but all he found was a terrible, bone deep fear and a horrible sense of regret. Whatever Evan’s problem was, it was taking a huge toll on him.

“What is it?” Barty demanded. “Who did this?”

“I—” Evan hesitated, but he couldn’t finish his sentence. Barty repressed the impulse to shake him by the shoulders and demand to know what was wrong, to know how he could help and make him feel better.

“What is it?” Barty asked softly. Evan sucked in a shuddering breath, and then, like it pained him, moved his eyes from Barty’s face. Barty watched in confusion as Evan slowly dropped his gaze to Barty’s arm.

“Oh, thank Merlin,” he breathed, then launched himself into Barty’s arms. He burrowed his face into Barty’s neck and started laughing, sounding a bit hysterical as he hiccuped and clung to Barty. Barty could do nothing but wrap his arms even tighter around him.

“Hey, uh,” he said, “not that I’m not enjoying this, but what’s going on?”

Evan pulled back, looking at Barty through red rimmed—yet happy—eyes. Wordlessly, Evan brought his left arm down and rotated it to show him his forearm, where Barty knew his soulmate mark was.

Except Evan’s soulmate mark was no longer black.

-

(Part 10 is here)

[iniquitousyearning]

as i was pondering over this next fic something came to me and i just can’t stop thinking about it (im not writing it bc it’s not the direction i wanna take this fic BUT—)

imagine tom has been tormenting you for weeks perhaps through some form of twisted legilimency he’s been giving you dreams of you two fucking or him eating you out practically every night and you can’t understand why they keep happening but you’re losing sleep over them because you keep waking up from literal mindshattering orgasms that have you shaking and then you’re just too wound up to go back to sleep so you seek him out to confront him and he then proceeds to use legilmency on you digging through your thoughts until he finds the memories of the dreams and makes you rewatch said dreams and feel the pleasure all over again as he’s fingerfucking you up against his desk

[glassy-eyed-poet]

Evan, crawling back to Pandora, both of them on opposite sides of the war now, begging for her to help him with her seer abilities while he tips on the edge of insanity.

Pandora, losing a part of herself as she watched her twin slip away, repeating the words their family had engraved in her mind when she was just a child, when Evan had wiped her tears after: "My dreams are just dreams."

[perciver4ever]

*Slytherin Percy au*

Oliver: *Stumbles into The Great Hall with a Slytherin tie*

Fred: Oh wow Ollie!

George: Enjoying your time in Slytherin?

Oliver: What do you mea- oh- shit-

Percy: *Walks into the Great Hall and turns to Oliver, pointing at his GRYFFINDOR tie*

Fred & George: WHAT?!

[moonstruckmoony]

So a long while ago @lamieboo tagged me in this post (I'm not reblogging bcs it'll be way too long sorry 😢) I made some art and wrote a whole one shot for it because it was the perfect opportunity for a Winter lore I've always wanted to make. Please be kind lol 💀 I haven't written in ages and I'm such a noob when it comes to writing, also English isn't my native language. I had to run my draft through multiple writing tools back and forth to find better phrasings and dictions that better express what I want to convey. Roughly ~1,000 words.

Green and Gold

She stepped forward as the wardrobe creaked open, the boggart slipping through the narrow gap in the door. Long, flowing golden threads emerged first, and Winter drew in a sharp breath.

The rest of the boggart soon took form—a woman in a pale blue dress, slumped weakly on the floor, her calf bleeding from a deep slash. Golden locks framed her worried face, and her piercing blue eyes, so much like Winter’s own, locked onto hers. Winter’s hand instinctively went up to the scar across her left eye. The woman’s chest heaved with silent breaths. The faint murmur of the students lining up behind Winter faded until she could hear nothing. Then, the woman’s lips parted, as if to speak.

“Close your eyes, snowflake.”

Was that truly her mother’s voice? Winter couldn’t remember if boggarts could speak. Could they mimic human voices? Or was it only mouthing the words while the voice echoed from somewhere deep within her mind?

Her hands went clammy. A bead of sweat ran down the side of her face. 

She knows what’s coming next. Behind her mother’s beautiful, tear-streaked face, a blinding green light appeared. Winter swiftly squeezed her eyes shut and raised her wand. “Riddikulus,” she whispered, her voice trembling as she kept her eyelids tightly closed.

· · ─────── ·❄ ❅ ❆· ─────── · · Sebastian went pale, even as the swirling Mallowsweet leaves spun into a twister before him, which without question, the most mesmerising form of the Riddikulus charm he had ever seen. It wasn’t a form he would laugh at, unlike most transformations of the charm. It was breathtaking. But no, what had truly gripped him was the green light that followed her mother’s appearance. He had never seen Winter like this—paralysed by fear, gasping for breath, drenched in sweat. She was always so composed, so captivating. Full of life, curiosity, and wonder.

He hadn’t realised this was her deepest fear.

And it was the very same curse he had cast just last year. On his uncle. Right in front of her. What had she looked like back then? He couldn’t quite remember. The sound of her laboured breathing lingered faintly in his mind, and he recalled her standing frozen for a moment before following him as he fled the catacombs. But the look on her face—he had no memory of it. Was she shocked? Horrified? Traumatised? He had been too distraught, too consumed by his own turmoil, to notice. Merlin, how must she have felt? Watching her best friend cast the Killing Curse—the very same curse that had taken her mother’s life—right in front of her? His throat went dry. His insides twisted painfully. Clenching his hands into fists, he dug his nails into his palms.

Was this… was this the reason she had refused to learn the spell? Not that he had wanted her to; in fact, he had been relieved when she didn’t. But it left him with questions. She was his kindred spirit, after all, and he knew the Dark Arts intrigued her, even if it was purely out of curiosity and for the sake of knowing. She wanted to learn, and had learned the other two curses. He had thought, perhaps, she would eventually ask about the last one, even though he wasn’t sure if he could bear to teach her—not after what happened to Solomon, to himself.

To Anne. But she was adamant in her refusal to learn it. She had said so out of the blue, when they began speaking again after the catacombs—after weeks of silence between them. Now, he finally understood why. And his heart broke for her. “Sebastian? Sebastian, what just happened?” Ominis’ voice snapped him back to reality. His best friend’s face was filled with concern, surely anxious for not being able to see what’s happening. Just this time, Sebastian is glad he couldn’t. He wouldn’t want Ominis to witness her in such a state. He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. He tried again, but his gaze drifted to Winter, who was slowly making her way towards them from the front of the line. Another student—Arthur Plummly, perhaps—stepped forward to face the boggart, but Sebastian hardly noticed. His focus was solely on Winter, her head bowed, arms wrapped tightly around herself, her body trembling slightly. “Winter…” She looked up at him, her eyes wide. They stood there for a moment, locked in each other's gaze. “I… I’m sorry.” He finally managed to speak. “What... what are you apologising for?” So much. Even though he’d already apologised to her and Ominis countless times, he hasn’t apologised for this one. “You—you know why.” He knew she understood. They’d always had a way of reading each other, and this was one of those moments. “That’s… It’s not—you shouldn’t…” She trailed off. And Sebastian was thankful she didn’t finish. Because he did feel like he should apologise. Even though hadn’t known about this, what he did that day might’ve stirred up memories she had buried deep down. Just like the cursed boggart had just now. Another silence passed before he slowly pulled her into an embrace. One hand rested on her back, the other gently cradling the back of her head. She froze at first, startled, but after a moment, her body softened into his arms as he tenderly stroked her hair. From his peripheral vision, Sebastian saw Ominis approached hesitantly. His alabaster hand tentatively found Winter’s smaller one, which still hung limply at her side, and she allowed their fingers to entwine. Sebastian could see the questions lingering in his best friend’s furrowed brows, but he’s certain that Winter would talk to him–she would explain everything to them when she’s ready.

He glanced forward, aware of the curious eyes from the students waiting in line—some watching with intrigue, others with quiet sympathy. It was a peculiar view, after all: Winter with her two best friends huddled together in such an unusual position. Up front, he caught sight of Amit ducking as his boggart morphed into harmless paper planes flying about after his successful Riddikulus. Sebastian hadn’t seen Amit’s boggart, but he imagined it was likely something ordinary, like a failing report card marked with a dreaded “T” in Astronomy or History of Magic.

None of that mattered now. The only person of importance was the girl in his arms, her trembling slowly subsiding, her once-laboured breathing easing into a soft, steady rhythm.

· · ─────── ·❄ ❅ ❆· ─────── · ·