#like hard to believe i was that young then

[cancerian]

The only “dense motherfucker” is one that believes it is women that must do so (make men feel comfortable) for men. You live in a society highly governed by your fellow males, if anyone is making you feel “bad” or “sad” it is because of the rules and laws created by your fellow males. Why should women who have been oppressed and subjugated for years, and are still subjugated by a different name care for your hurt that is caused by other men.

The biggest threat to women is men, the biggest threat to men is other men. At these your big ages, you would think that half a braincell would have formed by now. There is nothing that men will do now that they have not already done in the past. This is why women’s history and their experiences with the men they loved is very important for young girls to know. That way they don’t fall into the trap of “if you show them love, they will change and be kind.” Stop trying to put women in dangerous situations under the guise of loving all humans.

You have to be small minded to think women treat all men the same, your kind needs their ego stroked. Which is why women/girls are required to say “but not all men” when discussing things that disproportionately affect them. No one owes you love, but as humans we owe each other some sense of respect. So, you must respect women’s decisions to interact with you how they feel safest doing. The same way women have learned to respect that not all men are going to respect them. Only a dense pig would think that women do not understand the concept of viewing others as humans. In fact, time and time again it is women that are viewed as less than human by the same group you’re forcing them to care for.

As women (regardless of age), and especially as black women (moving away from the POC bs) you should prioritize your safety, you are not mother Theresa (even she was proven to be a fraud) and should focus on your own wellbeing. Don’t let an idiot calling you “dense” put you in situations many never come out of alive. As someone who has a male in her life that would do anything to see her happy and accomplished (and vice versa), I don’t go around with rose colored glasses trying to change anyone’s opinions because they chose to adopt an ideology that demonizes the living experiences of others. If being called “brother” is the only way you feel welcomed, then you need to rethink your entire life. Once you’re above 25, I implore that you try using at the very least 1/3 of your brain. I know using even half would probably cause a headache, so for now let’s aim to use 1/3.

Also you bring up the fact that men disproportionately hold more seats of power, so maybe direct your sadness to the people actively causing it. Which is the men in power not caring about the broke men (any man not in power). “It won’t pan out great for anyone who is not a male” because this is what males have done throughout history (I know you used man, but I used male for a specific reason and no I’m not a terf, but I don’t care about being called that). What a pathetic thing to say, especially if you’re not the man in power. This is an issue that egotistical idiots have (not calling you an idiot, but it is what it is), claiming men created this and that, when your ancestors are not the men that created it. Stop claiming power you personally don’t have. Stop claiming other men’s hard work as your own, especially when they put in the work to actually be productive members of society.

To the original twitter post, my dude you sound very stupid and seem like the kind that spends more time watching videos than actually reading on your countries history. The win was predictable, not because “men are becoming more right wing” but because this has been a common theme in America. These people are influenced by certain kind of media because deep down they already hold these beliefs, which is why they accept them. Men don’t genuinely want to see equality, hence why when they notice any group they view less than getting more rights they retaliate. The election result only tells us the reality of America as it pertains to race and sex (even more so when we look at the outcome of certain women’s voting history). So, the replies need to stop trying to make women take the blame for actions caused by other men. We should all aim to grow up.

To all the women/girls out there, avoid men that always want to be coddled and victimized. Most importantly find ways to protect yourselves, utilize the 2nd amendment given to you not by all men, but by the men that actually wrote it in. Protect yourselves by all means, and don’t be made to feel guilty for opting for safety over danger and stress.

Edit: have come to the conclusion after reading a substantial number of replies, Tumblr has a significant number of idiots who think they are smart. As a collective, we should all go touch grass.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

[fastandcarlos]

The House Of Piastri : ̗̀➛ Oscar Piastri

summary: the one where you and oscar move into a place that you can finally call your own

“Welcome to the house of Piastri!” Oscar chimed, turning the key and opening up the place that was finally yours. “Our very first home,” Oscar grinned, throwing his arm across your shoulders, pulling you in. 

It was far from perfect, there were moving boxes everywhere, little decoration, and many of the rooms were uncoordinated, but it was your place. Just for you and Oscar. There was no one else around, nothing to interrupt you both anymore. 

“Where do we begin?” You laughed, pressing your fingers to your temple. “What have we signed ourselves up for?” You asked Oscar, glancing across at him. His smile was wide, a lot more optimistic than you were at the adventure that you had ahead of you. 

When Oscar suggested the two of you think about finding your own place after moving to Monaco, you jumped at the chance. It was a big deal for you both, having only ever lived separately before, but after leaving home in order to support Oscar, you knew you couldn’t be alone. 

“Doesn’t it just feel right though?” Oscar whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I can already see how amazing it’s going to look, even if it doesn’t look that way right now.” 

Your head nodded in agreement with Oscar, no doubt that it was a place you’d feel happy calling your home. You and Oscar had so many plans, you’d spent hours awake at night talking through your ideas, searching online for some inspiration of what you’d like. 

“The view is beautiful too,” you hummed, taking a few steps forward across the room to where your balcony was. “I don’t think I’ll tire of looking out here, it’s beautiful.” 

“Almost as beautiful as you,” Oscar chimed, watching as your eyes rolled. “What? I’m only being honest; it doesn’t quite compare to you.” 

Oscar took your hand again, leading you across to where the sofa was just beside the balcony. You sat against his side, back pressed against his chest as Oscar rested his head on top of yours. It was about the only piece of furniture that you had built and ready to go, having taken most of the day to get it delivered and set up, but it left you both excited for all the hard work that was to come.  

It felt like a dream as you looked around the apartment, neither you or Oscar could quite believe that you were finally there, after months of planning and waiting around. 

“Imagine how beautiful this is going to be soon,” Oscar whispered into your ear, “I can see us spending forever here, growing old, maybe even raising a family too.” 

Your eyes widened as Oscar spoke, not quite knowing what to say. He felt your body tense up, worried that maybe he’d said the wrong thing, got too ahead of himself in amongst all of the excitement of moving in. 

Oscar mumbled an apology across to you. “I didn’t mean to say that, it’s just a maybe one day kind of thing. I guess I’m just excited for the future now that we’re finally here.” 

It wasn’t that you were scared, but you’d never really heard Oscar talk about your future plans before. You were both so young, and had so much time ahead of you, although you knew most of your time now was going to be spent building, decorating, and trying to get your home look a little more homely.  

“Don’t be sorry,” you smiled up at Oscar, “there’s no need to be sorry. I like that you’re thinking about these sorts of things. Forever is a long time though; we don’t know where the future is going to take us.” 

“I’d live anywhere as long as I had you with me,” Oscar mused, “I’d live in a rubbish bin as long as you were there, even if you would end up smelling a bit.” 

“Moving in has really got you thinking about things, hasn’t it?” 

Oscar nodded, kissing against the top of your head. “I guess moving in with you has made me so happy, I’m just excited now for what’s going to come next.” 

“I’ll give you a clue...a heck of a lot of painting,” you teased. 

It was going to take many hours to get the apartment as you wanted it, but you and Oscar knew that together you’d get it done. You didn’t want the easy option when it came to finding your home, but even this was a harder challenge than either of you could imagine. 

“Think about all the memories that we’re going to make here,” Oscar spoke, “we’ll be able to have friends over, family can stay when they visit, and just stay here together too.” 

It was a big move, not only had you found a new city, but you’d found a new country too. Luckily for you, many of the other drivers who were already out there had been more than willing to help you out, offering their services whenever you needed them. 

“I think once we’re unpacked and decorated, I’ll feel happier, your mum would be mortified if she knew we were living here with the state of this place right now,” you replied. 

“She can’t wait to visit,” Oscar laughed, “I think she might be more excited than us about this.” 

Everyone around you couldn’t wait to see you move in together, you were inseparable at the best of times and it was only a matter of time. Your parents, and Oscar’s, especially had pushed you to move in, desperate to see you in a place you could call your own. 

“It’s going to be crazy, but there’s no one else I’d like to move in with and decorate my first home alongside.” 

Your head nodded in agreement with Oscar, as terrifying as it was, you were beyond excited too. Your vision was clear, and one thing you were absolutely confident of was the fact that you were absolutely going to love living there, especially with Oscar there too. 

“You know, when all of this is done, we’ll be able to sit here and think about how lucky we are.” 

Your head tilted back to look up at Oscar, “I already feel lucky enough as it is. You’re here, and we’re in Monaco, what could be better than that?” 

“I really do appreciate you moving all the way out here to support me,” Oscar whispered, “not many people would move across the world for their partner. It’s a huge sacrifice to make, I just hope that it’s worthwhile being here for you.” 

“It’s worth it, wherever you go, I go,” you replied, reminding him of the promise that you made to each other. “Anyway, Monaco is definitely the place that feels like home now too.” 

Oscar glanced down with a smile, “there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than here with you right now. I think I could get used to living here, with you.” 

“I agree, this is beyond anything that I could have ever dreamed of.” 

“It’s not just an apartment anymore, it’s our home,” Oscar said, “a place we can finally call our own.” 

“The house of Piastri, it’s perfect.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[endangeredrandomfanfics]

"A Song to Gather Witches"

Taglist- @skittlebum @circe143 @quailbagutte

Summary: You've got your powers Agatha found a way to make them useful for your cons scamming gig, this time you've witnessed her do it draining witches seeing her purple -Chapter IV

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

===============================

The saloon was dimly lit, filled with the smell of smoke and aged wood, the murmur of voices and clinking glasses creating a lively atmosphere. Amidst the crowd, the young reader sat on a small stage, their fingers hovering over a dusty piano as they glanced around, gauging the room. They could feel the quiet hum of their mother’s magic, woven into the air like a whisper, guiding them toward their purpose tonight.

Just before leaving that morning, Agatha had leaned in, her eyes sparkling with pride and a hint of mischief. “Remember, my love,” she’d murmured, brushing a stray hair from their forehead. “Tonight, we need the song to travel—so that the right ears might hear it.”

And so, here they were, under the warm glow of candlelight, ready to sing the melody they’d written together: Witches’ Road. They knew the song by heart, every note and word crafted to call out, inviting magic-seekers toward its ancient lure. The piano keys felt cool beneath their fingers as they began to play, the haunting melody weaving through the saloon.

As their voice joined the music, soft and sure, conversations began to quiet. Heads turned, listening as the words drifted through the room.

"There's a road that's wild and wicked, winding through the wood

Where all that's wrong is right and all that's bad is good

Through many miles of tricks and trials, we wander high and low

Tame your fears, a door appears, the time has come to go…"

Their voice was filled with a subtle magic, a lure that pulled at hearts and minds, drawing listeners into the mystery of the song. Eyes watched them with fascination, some captivated, others with an uneasy curiosity. As the song reached its chorus, a few women near the back exchanged glances, leaning in closer, their interest piqued.

"Down, down, down the road

Down the witches' road

Down, down, down the road

Down the witches' road

Down, down, down the road

Down the witches' road

Follow me, my friend

To glory and the end…"

When the final note lingered, fading into the air, there was a soft hush in the room, broken only by scattered murmurs. The women from the back made their way forward, curiosity gleaming in their eyes.

One of them, a tall woman with silver-streaked hair, gave the reader a long, assessing look. “That’s a peculiar tune for someone so young,” she said, her voice low but warm. “Where’d you learn a song like that?”

The reader met her gaze with innocent wonder, tilting their head as if the question surprised them. “It’s… something I came up with myself,” they said, keeping their tone light, humble, even a bit shy. “I’ve always been drawn to magic, to the mysteries and stories of witches. But it’s hard to learn when no one is willing to teach.”

The woman raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued, and the others exchanged whispers. “You’re… self-taught?” another asked, her eyes narrowing slightly.

They nodded. “But it’s not enough. I’ve been looking for someone who could show me the true path—a real mentor.” The reader’s voice took on a slight note of longing, one that Agatha had coached them to use, and they cast their gaze down, as though a little shy showing a subtle colored little spark from her hands.

The silver-haired woman’s expression softened as she looked at the reader, her curiosity turning to something else—a hint of sympathy, perhaps. She glanced at her companions before giving a slight nod. “Come with us,” she said, her voice gentle but firm. “If you’re serious about seeking the path, I believe we may be able to help.”

The reader smiled, a small, grateful smile, and slid down from the piano bench. They followed the woman and her companions out of the saloon and into the quiet night, their pulse quickening as they thought of Agatha, waiting in the forest.

As they walked, the reader could feel the air changing, a faint vibration in the earth beneath their feet. Magic was gathering, old and powerful, drawn by the song and by the reader’s carefully spoken words. They kept their face calm, nodding along as the women spoke in low voices about the “Witches’ Road” and its history, speculating about how such a young soul could know a song like that.

After a while, they reached a clearing, surrounded by tall trees whose branches stretched up toward the star-filled sky. The witches turned to face the reader, their expressions serious.

“We don’t usually take to strangers, especially ones as young as you,” the silver-haired woman said, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “But something about you is… different. There’s a power in you that feels older than your years.”

The reader met her gaze, giving a small, earnest nod. “Thank you for trusting me. I promise, I’m ready to learn.”

Just as the woman was about to reply, a soft rustling sounded from the shadows, and the air grew thick with tension. One by one, the women turned, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. The shadows deepened, twisting and stretching as if alive, and from the darkness, Agatha emerged, her silhouette outlined against the moonlight, her eyes gleaming with a fierce intelligence.

The witches took a step back, their expressions shifting from curiosity to alarm.

“You’re… you’re her mother?” one of them whispered, looking at Agatha with dawning recognition.

Agatha smiled, a calm, knowing smile, and nodded. “Indeed. And you were kind enough to keep my little one company tonight.” Her voice was smooth, filled with a dark charm that held them in place, even as they sensed the danger.

The silver-haired woman’s expression hardened, realizing the trap too late. “This was a setup,” she hissed, her voice low with anger.

Agatha tilted her head, her gaze unyielding. “I never said it wasn’t.”

Without another word, she raised her hand, and a dark mist coiled around her fingers, crackling with a subtle, sinister power. The witches tried to resist, casting protective spells and trying to break free, but Agatha’s magic was stronger—each spell they cast was met with a swift, effortless counter. She moved gracefully, almost as though she were dancing, drawing power from them, siphoning their magic as they struggled.

The reader watched, both awed and unnerved. They knew what their mother was capable of, but witnessing her in action, surrounded by these powerful witches who had no chance against her, was something different entirely.

As the last of the coven fell to the ground, drained and silent, Agatha turned to them, her eyes softening as she approached. She brushed a strand of hair from their face, her expression filled with warmth and pride.

“You did perfectly, my love,” she murmured, her voice a gentle contrast to the fierce power they had just witnessed. “Just as I knew you would.”

They looked up at her, a small, relieved smile breaking through. “It worked,” they whispered, the weight of the night’s events settling over them. “They really believed I needed their help.”

Agatha smiled, pride shining in her eyes. “That’s because you have the heart of a true witch—clever, resourceful, and far stronger than most would ever guess. You’re learning fast.”

But even as her words brought comfort, a pang of guilt stirred in the reader’s heart. “Mama… I didn’t know it would feel like this.” They looked at the fallen witches, an uncertain shadow crossing their face. “What if they… what if they didn’t deserve it?”

Agatha knelt down, her expression softening as she took their hands in hers. “Listen to me, my love. Those who would harm us, or stand in the way of what we need, they give us no choice. This is the path we walk, and it’s a path not everyone can understand.”

The reader nodded, letting her words sink in, though the weight still lingered.

Seeing their unease, Agatha cupped their cheek, a tender smile playing on her lips. “You have a compassionate heart, my dear one, and that is a gift. But there are times we must be strong and unyielding to protect what’s ours.” She stroked their cheek. “Trust in your strength, and trust that you were right to call them to us. You did nothing wrong.”

With Agatha’s reassurances, the reader felt a calm settle over them, a reminder of their purpose and the bond they shared with her. They walked together back through the forest, the night quiet around them, the stars gleaming overhead. As they walked, Agatha began to hum the familiar melody, and the reader joined her, their voices mingling softly as they sang together.

"There's a road that's wild and wicked, winding through the wood..."

Their voices blended, filling the night air with the haunting, beautiful song, a mother and child bound by love, secrets, and a strength that would see them through any trial ahead.

===============================

A/n: Comment?,👀😩🖐🏻, I'm bored and lacking motivation for this

[turtle-steverogers]

i rlly like ur posts abt how steves rough time with his dad as a little kid affects him later in life. i was wondering do u think the other avengers notice? and if they do what do you think they think/do about it?

also tbh i rlly like ur posts in general lol. i hope you have a good day!

I think the other Avengers notice after some time, considering most of them have similar experiences. I imagine it's sort of an unspoken thing, but it's almost... more notable on Steve, because he's so goddamn young and because when he wakes up from the ice, he's so goddamn stretched thin, that the reserves he usually has to shove all those old habits into a box are low. He's jumpy, the others notice. A raised voice-- especially male-- makes him flinch before he smooths out his face. Making requests is hard for him, and mistakes-- even small ones-- are met with scrambling apologies and frantic attempts to fix the problems.

No one says anything, because they know what it's like, and they don't want him to feel cornered. But there's a hard mission, and he and Natasha are alone in a motel room, and Steve is so clearly low. Kids had been involved. And Natasha had seen the way Steve had shut down to see the marks and bruises on the little boy and girl they'd gotten out of a trafficking situation, and she understood. Albeit for different reasons, but at the core, the pain was the same. They'd both just been kids when they were hurt. Young and lost and wondering what they'd done to deserve the grown ups around them squashing them down and making them feel no better than the dirt.

He doesn't say anything, so she doesn't either. But that night, she can't sleep, and neither can he, and when she hears him shift, roll over. Curl onto his side as the silent tears start, she can't stand it anymore.

Her bed creaks as she slides out, ignoring the rough crunch of the carpet as she pads over to Steve's bed and climbs in behind him.

She crawls onto the bed behind him, stretching out. "Can I hold you?" she whispers. Steve shrugs. He doesn't care. He doesn't understand why she would want to be the big spoon to his hulking frame, but if she wants to, he won't stop her. He's too tired to. He feels her wiggle close and slides an arm over his chest, hugging him flush against her. Her palm rests over his heart and she rubs, soothing.

It eases some of the weight. Some of the ache. He breathes, shaky. She kisses the back of his neck. It's quiet for a long time.

Natasha's voice is soft and private when she speaks. "It hurts, what they did to us, doesn't it?"

Steve freezes, listening. Natasha holds on. He doesn't move her.

"Why would anyone treat children that way? Hurt them that way?"

Steve clenched his jaw, resignation in his gut. "How could you tell?"

Natasha sighs. "I put it together, more or less."

Steve nods and doesn't say anything. It's quiet here, outside the city. The world dark and lacking that telltale bustle. Steve hates it.

"It's alright that you're hurting still," Natasha continues, and Steve wants to beg her to stop, but he's too curious, too desperate for someone to see him that he doesn't. "It's okay that you're still scared. You're safe, darling... you don't have to believe that yet."

He starts to tremble.

"Shh, baby, hey," she soothes and her voice is easy to stomach. Easy to understand. "Breathe for me."

He sucks in a deep breath.

"Did they hit you in the Red Room?" he asks.

"Sometimes," Natasha says. "It was calculated, though. Discipline."

Discipline. Steve doesn't think his father meant for his hits to be discipline. They were just... correction. To get him to shut up. Or maybe so he could get his anger out.

"Breathe," Natasha reminds again. Steve takes another measured breath. "You don't have to tell me anything. But you can. I won't get it all, but I might understand."

Steve considers that. "How old were you? When it started?"

"I don't remember," Natasha said. "Very young. Four, maybe? You?"

"I don't remember either," Steve whispers, and he's furious. Suddenly, he wants to set the world on fire. For the little girl who just wanted a chance to see the sunshine, and for the little boy who just wanted to play. "Maybe the same."

They fall back into silence. Steve can feel his teeth chattering. Natasha starts humming a song, simple and soothing under her breath. He knows he doesn't have to say anything else; she understands. He lets his eyes fall shut again.

[writerdownbookworder]

The princess smiled at him happily from across the battlefield as she rode away. 

Edmund smiled back and waved. The minute she was out of sight, his hand dropped and he ran it through his hair nervously as he returned to work, carting away the bodies of the enemy and friends alike. It was hard, emotional work, and thankfully, it took his mind off of the explanation he would have to give his family in a few short hours.

Finally, he was able to go home. As soon as Edmund walked in the door, he was bombarded with hugs from all six of his little siblings. They were all between the ages of 2 and 10, and the smaller ones tried climbing him like monkeys. Edmund laughed as he hugged them all, then his parents and grandparents who all lived with them in the four bedroom house. 

After Edmund finally got the little ones calmed down and regaled them with some of the tamer stories he had, he looked at his mother. 

Reading his mind, she started corralling the kids. “Come on, everyone,” she called. “Bedtime!” She ignored the groans and moans that came as she whisked them into their bedroom.

Edmund shifted awkwardly in his chair as he waited for her to come back. When she did, taking a seat beside his father, Edmund took a deep breath.

“I have some news to share,” he began. “I am…engaged.”

His grandmother hooted with joy. “Ha! Finally!”

“Really, Mabel,” Edmund’s mother said reproachfully. “Let the boy speak.”

His father turned to him. “Do we know the girl?”

Edmund wouldn’t meet any of their eyes as he mumbled, “Sort of.”

His grandfather crossed his arms. “It’s not that Katrina, is it? You do know she’s a bit strange. I don’t think you should marry her. Can you call it off?”

Edmund sighed and rubbed his forehead. “It’s not Katrina. And that’s not very nice, Grandfather.”

“Hmph!” his grandfather pouted. “Well, then, who is it?”

“Itstheoldestprincessprincessisolde!” Edmund said, all in a rush.

His grandmother put a hand to her ear. “Eh?”

Edmund took a deep breath. “It’s Princess Isolde.”

“What?!” came a shriek from behind them. Everyone whipped around, only to find seven-year-old Avalie peeking around the corner and eavesdropping. 

She started bouncing on her toes with excitement. “You’re gonna marry Princess Isolde?! She’s my favorite!”

Edmund’s mother put her hands on her hips. “Young lady, you are not supposed to be up. You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

Edmund sighed. “She might as well stay now.”

Avalie ran over and jumped on his lap. “You’re my favorite! How did it happen?!” she asked eagerly.

He couldn’t help grinning at her. “Well, last year, remember when I was gone for so long? I was one of her personal guards. A few days ago, we ended up near each other again, out on the battlefield. I thought…” he let his voice trail off, remembering he was talking to a seven year old. The adults in the room knew what he meant, so he continued his story. “I knew I loved her, and I was pretty sure she loved me too. We grew close last year. I asked her to marry me, and she said yes. And…here we are.”

“Are you gonna go live in the palace?!” Avalie shrieked, ignoring when five adults shushed her. “That’s so exciting!”

Edmund laughed. “Yes, I suppose it is. I believe she said she would send word in a few days. I’m…not too sure what to do next. We did just get out of a war.”

Avalie clutched him tightly. “Can I come with you?” 

He laughed again. “Fine by me! You’ll have to ask Isolde though.”

Avalie’s eyes went wide.

She, Avalie, was going to meet a princess! And not just any princess. Her very favorite one!

And Princess Isolde was going to marry her own brother!

That would make them sisters!!!

The rest of the adults were not as excited as Avalie, to say the least. The minute she was shooed off to bed for a second time, the questions resumed.

“How?”

“Why would you do such a thing?”

“What in the world possessed you?”

“Her?”

“She’s the heir to the throne! What does that make you?”

“Why would she even say yes?”

Edmund glared at his grandmother, who had asked that particular question. “Gee, thanks.”

She shrugged. “Don’t mention it.”

The soldier had proposed to the princess out of a mix of getting it out now and the belief he wouldn't make it. Now that the two are alive after the final battle, she intends to make good on what he promised and he's now wondering on how to explain it to his family.

[punksyeet]

ᰔᩚ Protection ᰔᩚ

Plot: Gianna (OC) is protected by a guy at the gym who, she’d later find out is the man of her dreams.

Warning: S/A, mature language, & hefty flirting!

28!

29!

30!

I set my pair of dumbbells back onto their rack and take a seat on the black bench that's sat in front of me to catch my breath.

Panting heavily, I take a sip from my rose gold Stanley cup and towel dry the numerous beads of sweat rolling down my forehead and chest.

Once I'm cooled off and my breathing returns to normal, I head to the treadmill to do the last 10 minutes of my workout.

The song "Lifestyle" by Rich Gang and Young Thug plays through my headphones, and I mouth the words while doing some light jogging.

About 4 minutes in, I feel a presence behind me, causing me to look back.

An older random man, at least 50 years old, is stood there just watching me.

I pause the machine and hop off, slowly taking my headphones off as well. "Hi. Is there something you needed?"

He lightly chuckles. "Not at all, sweetheart. I'm just enjoying the view."

Oh for fucks sake!

"Yeeaaah," I respond hesitantly, turning back to the treadmill. "I'm not interested, sorry."

He lightly grabs my waist, causing me to stop half-way. "Baby wait! I just wanna ta-"

"Okay first of all," I exclaim, backing out of his grip. "Don't touch me. I don't even know you."

He crosses his arms over his chest and swallows hard. "Well that seems unfai-"

"And secondly," I continue, cutting him off. "I told you I'm not interested. You're making me very uncomfortable. So please, respectfully, walk away from me."

"I don't think I will," he instigates, proceeding to walk even closer to me. "You know exactly what you're doing in these tight little shorts, baby."

He starts inching his hand closer and closer to my ass until another person clears their throat, making him stop in his tracks and turn around.

I look behind him, where the sound came from, and see a much younger looking and, not for nothing, but super attractive guy.

My eyes automatically scan his body, which is filled with what looks like cultural tattoos and sweat that makes his gorgeous caramel-colored skin glisten under the ceiling lights.

"I believe the lady asked to be left alone?" he clarifies, his hands in his pockets.

The man throws his hands up innocently. "I wasn't trying anything man, I swear."

"I see," the attractive guy says, nodding and smoothing out his freshly-trimmed beard. "Then why are you still here, uce?"

Uce? What does that mean?

"Because uce," the man replies, mocking him. "I'm a guy that likes conversation. And I saw a pretty woman so I walked over. What does this have to do with you anyway?"

The attractive guy's nostrils flare in reaction to being mimicked. "It has everything to do with me when I'm witnessing a lame ass dude come up to a female, making her uncomfortable in a place where she should feel safe. Have some shame bruh."

With every word he inches closer and closer to the man, even pointing his finger at him.

The man suddenly turns speechless, and places his hands in his pockets.

"That's exactly what the fuck I thought," the attractive guy continues. "So I suggest you get outta here before things get real ugly."

The man then rolls his eyes, scans my body one more time, and walks away.

The attractive guy watches him leave and comes walking over to me. "Hey. You alright?"

I blink numerous times out of shock. "Y-yeah I'm good. Thank you so much for that."

He gives me a warm smile. "Anytime. It infuriates me seeing dudes disrespecting women that way. I'm glad I saw it before he could do anything else to you."

I return the smile. "Well, thank you again. I appreciate it. More than you know."

"You're very welcome..." his voice trails off, and he tilts his head at me.

"Oh!" I reply, holding out my hand. "I'm Gianna. It's nice to meet you."

He flashes me another gorgeous smile and shakes it. "You too, and that's a real pretty name. I'm Josh."

"Thank you," I reply, lightly blushing, and stick my hands in my pockets once we end the handshake.

He stops for a minute and takes a deep breath before speaking up again. "Say Gianna, I know we met in a kinda unfortunate way, and the timing of all this may be off. But would you like to hang out sometime?"

His gorgeous ass? Wants to hang out with me?

I give him a soft smile, shrugging. "Sure, why not?"

He nods, rubbing his hands together. "Cool, cool. How about tonight? I'll text you my address and we can kick it? Have dinner or something?"

I nod, pull out my phone, open my contact list, and hand it to him. "Sure, that sounds nice."

He enters his number and hands it back to me. "Perfect. I'll see you tonight."

I smile, nodding. "See you then."

He gives me one last smile before walking off, allowing me to finish my set and head home.

—————————————————————————————————

It's now 5pm and I just got out of the shower.

Josh and I are meeting at his place at 5:45 so I gave myself some extra time to get ready and mentally prepare.

He texted me to dress comfy, so I decide to go with a cotton white sweater and pants set, some beige slides, my belly piercing, some silver jewelry, and my LV purse.

I straighten my hair and spray some yummy smelling perfume before heading out.

—————————————————————————————————

You've got this Gi.

Just be yourself and he'll love you.

I take a deep breath before leaving my car and heading up Josh's walkway and to the front door.

Seconds after I ring his doorbell, I hear dogs barking and then shuffling towards the door.

Once it opens, I practically drool at the sight I'm brought with.

He's dressed in a black muscle tee, grey sweatpants with his print visible, Nike socks, hoop earrings in, and a nice gold chain around his muscular neck.

"Hey again," he coos, standing against the door.

I give him a soft smile. "H-Hi. You look nice."

He chuckles. "Thanks, love. You do too. Come on inside."

I do as he says and I'm greeted with three adorable french bulldogs. "Your dogs are adorable."

He closes the door behind me and smiles when he sees me petting them. "Thank you."

He introduces me to Pongo, Mumble, and Jax.

As he's making dinner, I chill on the couch with them.

"They took a liking to you quick," he exclaims, watching us with his arms folded leaning against the wall. "Normally it takes them a while to get used to new people."

I look up at him and smile. "I have a pup of my own. Maybe they can smell her."

He chuckles and sits with us, his arm draped over the top of the couch behind me.

"So," I begin, rubbing Pongo's belly and turning to Josh. "What's on the menu for tonight?"

He smiles, looking back at the stove. "Garlic butter shrimp pasta with some oven roasted veggies on the side."

My stomach growls at the sound of it and faint smells coming from the kitchen. "That sounds amazing. I can't wait."

He smiles and we continue to play with the dogs until dinner is ready.

"Josh holy shit," I say, covering my mouth as I chew a piece of shrimp. "This is amazing!"

He smiles proudly, taking a sip from his wine glass. "I'm so glad you like it. I've been working on the recipe for a while."

"Feels like it's perfected now," I reply, setting my fork down and picking up my wine glass.

He chuckles and we spend the rest of dinner getting to know each other.

From dinner I found out that:

- he's full blown Samoan

- the term "uce" means brother / bro

- he was born in San Francisco, raised in Pensacola, and moved to Atlanta a few years ago

- he has 2 sons named Jeyce and Jaciyah

- he has 6 siblings including a twin brother named Jonathan

"So," he begins. "If you don't mind me asking, what do you do?"

I take a sip of wine before answering. "Well, I've been into wrestling for a little bit now. I got signed to NXT a couple weeks ago."

A gorgeous smile appears on his face. "That's awesome Gi! Congrats!"

I giggle. "Thank you! And you said you're already in WWE, right?"

"Yup," he replies, nodding. "I debuted with my brother back in 2010."

I smile, tilting my head. "That's awesome that you guys have been in it together the whole time."

He smiles, folding his arms and leaning on the island. "Yeah it's been one hell of a ride. But I'm grateful for him."

We talk more throughout the night and it's honestly such a good time.

It sounds weird, but I feel safe with him.

Despite me meeting him less than 12 hours ago.

—————————————————————————————————

It's now 9pm, almost 2 hours since we finished dinner, and we're sat in the backyard near his fire pit.

"Nice out tonight, huh?" he asks, looking up at the sky, which is filled with stars and a crescent moon.

I nod, smiling, just watching the fire. "It really is."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see him look down at me and kinda just watch me for a while.

After a few moments, I grow the confidence to look back, which causes a shy smile to appear on both of our faces.

"You okay?" I ask, placing my hand on his thigh softly.

"All good," he replies. "You really are gorgeous by the way."

My cheeks turn red hot and I look down shyly, picking the blanket that he brought out for us up to my chin. "Thank you, Josh."

He chuckles and scoots in closer, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.

I get goosebumps at the feeling of his warm and soft hand on my skin.

"Don't get all shy now love," he teases. "You were just touching my thigh a second ago."

I playfully roll my eyes, giggling. "It's not my fault you're fine as hell, sir."

He raises his eyebrows as if he's shocked. "Fine as hell, huh?"

I nod confidently, trying to swallow every last bit of nervousness. "You know you are."

He pretends to have long hair and flicks it off his shoulders.

We share a laugh and he cups my face, stroking my cheek with his thumb.

"You have a real nice smile too," he continues, cupping my face and stroking my cheek with his thumb.

I try to put my head down shyly again, but he lifts my chin before I can, allowing us to lock eyes.

We both slowly lean in and, soon enough, our lips are connected in the sweetest and most romantic kiss I've ever experienced.

With every stroke, our lips move in sync and his hands wander further and further along my sides.

Eventually, we pull away slowly and I bite my bottom lip softly.

"You're a good kisser," I say, just above a whisper, my hands still playing with his dreamy curls.

He chuckles and takes a strand of hair away from my face. "So are you, mama. I could kiss those lips forever."

"What's stopping you?" I tease, brushing my nose against his.

He smirks and connects our lips again, this time far more passionately.

The kiss lasts about 5 minutes - tongue included and everything - and not gonna lie, I was a little bummed when it finally ended.

"This is gonna sound a little upfront and please let me know if you think it's too soon," he begins, stroking my side. "But...I haven't felt this way since I first started dating my ex wife so it must be true."

I tilt my head, rubbing soft circles his back. "What's that?"

He smiles and stares directly into my eyes. "I think I'm in love with you, baby."

I bite my bottom lip gently and take a deep breath before finally speaking up to respond. "I'm in love with you too."

He raises an eyebrow. "Really? You are?"

I nod, smiling. "I think so. And I’m willing to find out for sure.”

He lets out a sigh of relief and wraps me into a warm hug, and I immediately hug back.

"I was so nervous that you'd whack me across the face or something," he confesses once we pull away, making me giggle.

"Now why would I look to do damage to a face as handsome as yours?" I tease, playing with his beard.

He chuckles and pulls me in for another kiss.

Our third of the night.

And hopefully the third of many more to come.

After a little while more of hanging out and enjoying each other's company, it gets pitch black outside.

"I should probably start heading home," I exclaim, rubbing the bicep of his arm that's wrapped around my waist.

He sighs. "You sure you can't stay?"

I lay my head on his shoulder and kiss his jaw. "I'd love to, but not tonight."

He kisses my temple and gets up, holding out his hand. "I understand, baby. Come on, I'll walk you out."

I smile and take it, getting up.

I crouch down to his pups and say goodbye with tummy rubs and lots of kisses. "I'll see you guys soon."

They respond with barks and licks to my face.

Josh smiles, watching us before I stand back up and take his hand once more.

We head out to my car, share a couple more kisses, a little more small talk, and I head off.

—————————————————————————————————

I park in my driveway and automatically take notice to a bouquet of pink roses sitting at my front door.

Once I make it to them, I smile, reading the note attached:

Thank you for the best night I've had in a while. I'm so happy we met earlier today, even though it feels like I've known you forever. I hope you enjoy these and I'll see you soon. ❤️

- Love, Josh

I place the note in my pocket and pick up the bouquet, smelling the flowers.

I head inside, set my stuff down, and immediately text him.

Gianna ❤️: You're adorable! 🥹

Josh 🩵: You like them baby?

Gianna ❤️: I love them. They're beautiful. Thank you. 🤍

Josh 🩵: Just like you. You're welcome mama. ❤️

You loved "Just like you. You're welcome mama. ❤️"

It hasn't even been a full 24 hours, and I already love him more than anything.

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[emreads294]

thank you @i-too-enjoy-blog for reminding me🤭

guys this is insane and a very potential reach BUT in a jennifer lynn barnes book anything is possible

ok so this connects the same backwards as forwards to the current timeline so its a spoiler

i know my girl @swiftreader1989 said she thinks kaylie rooney could be calla's mom, but my theory is that she could be lyra's

HEAR ME OUT, for anyone thats read it (and i sure hope you do bc i will be saying spoikers) you know that kaylie was very bubbly and nicknamey... like lyra's mom. and i know jlb writes characters similarly but pls just bear with me.

i think kaylie was too young to be calla's mom because if my math is right she was 17ish when she "died", and calla is a few years older than brady (someone pls fact check this).

also lyra's mom is imo mysterious too, like why did we learn her dads name and a bunch of info abt him and we don't even know her mom's first name.

i think she would've been 19-20 (is kaylie is her mom) when lyra was born. i also noted the significant age difference between lyra and her little brother (i'm not older women can't have kids because we know they can, but just don't think too hard about my bs reasoning)

oh also, correct me if i'm wrong but i don't believe they ever really saw kaylies body in the fire.... ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE IN A JENNIFER LYNN BARNES BOOK

ANYWAYYYY if i remember more of my argument i'll add it. and like i said i am aware that this is a crazy reach but i think its a really fun theory

[oshinohoshi]

Oshi no Ko chapter 166 thoughts - the end of all things

So uh... the only positive thing I can say here besides the beautiful Ai art is that I felt sad reading the page where Miyako was hugging Ruby. Everything else left me completely empty

This chapter is either:

A) A self-aware ending meant to show that life is suffering and the idol industry will suck out your soul if you let it

B) Outsourced to someone who skimmed OnK for 30 seconds on Wikipedia before putting pen to paper

It has to be A, right? You can't tell me that the same author wrote both of these pages without the right being ironic

But I don't think so because big brained Akane is the one clumsily narrating this crappy montage masquerading as a real ending

Aqua died for nothing. His sister is now a soulless cog in the idol machine

Ruby is mimicking Ai's speech - "Lies are an outstanding kind of love... We pile on the lies and no matter how hard things get, we sing and act happy onstage. It's a fun job!" But she forgot the rest of it: "Only, I'd like the 'being happy' part to be real. Nobody notices, but we have hearts and lives of our own. Happiness as a mother. Happiness as an idol. Normally you'd have to pick one, but I want both. Ai Hoshino is a greedy girl"

Ai wasn't only a misunderstood girl who worked hard to please her fans. That was a big part of her story but she also broke the rules to create her own family, her own happiness

Ruby, on the other hand, seems to have no real desires anymore, she's just following a path she believes her mother and Aqua paved for her. Never mind that Aqua only wanted it in the end because she wanted it and Ai just wanted her kids to be happy

You can tell that Akasaka is patting himself on the back for making a cyclical narrative where Ruby becomes Ai 2.0 by being commodified, scrutinized, and idolized like Ai was

But it's such a flimsy parallel when it comes to the theme of lies because lying to hide your grief =/= "lies are love" which was the only way Ai knew how to frame her genuine desire to love

And Ai's "I love you" to her kids was true whereas Ruby has swallowed her own lie that being an idol is fun even when you're just doing it to outrun your pain

What this chapter showed us is that the meaning of Ruby's life is to be Ruby of B Komachi and she was put on Earth to sing pop songs. Because that's what Ai did, right? If I remember correctly, her final words were "I'm so glad I got to be an idol #blessed"

My God was the Dome concert soulless. Miyako and Ichigo crying happy tears is a punch to the gut. Doesn't Miyako know her daughter is still hurting?

The last scene is so fucking depressing

Ruby, are you okay? Blink twice if you still remember your life outside the idol industry!

The last two pages work really well as horror. She has a brilliant smile but you can tell that she's dead inside. She's got more merch on her table than photos. Why doesn't she have a corkboard of family photos? Although I more or less have this Ai plushie and it's pretty cute so I'll give this a pass because it's hilarious

I guess the takeaway here is to live for others and life is painful so just grin and bear it. Oh yeah, and inspire other young women to join an industry where they get to act happy and lose their humanity. Cool

I mean I get that it's supposed to be about moving on with your life even while grieving and that's a good message, sure, but Aka's insistence on using the word "lies" multiple times as if saying it makes it make sense ruins the whole thing

The most insane part is that this chapter is a wholehearted endorsement of the lies sold by the entertainment/idol industry

I haven't even said anything about anyone besides Ruby because what's the point? Aka didn't have time to do justice to any of the characters I grew to love

It's clear something went wrong with the timeline of wrapping up OnK. No artist wants to execute a final chapter like this. I'm convinced the film reel edges are Aka and Mengo's way of telling the reader, "we know this is a shitty clips show so don't @ us on Twitter about it"

But it's so much worse than that. Aka really decided to tear to shreds everything he worked so hard on for 4 years. Damn

This is my favorite manga and I'll always love that it gave me Ai, my most beloved character of all time, but this leaves an extremely bitter aftertaste. It's really hard to believe that the same person who wrote vol 1 wrote this.

OnK has been pretty important to me. Reading weekly, chatting with fans, and reaching dangerous levels of Ai brain rot has actually been a helpful distraction. TBH I've been a little too invested in it but sometimes you need escapism. So it's crazy that I'm kind of glad it's over.

But this is why fanfic, fanart, and your own headcanons exist. In another universe, this manga wrapped up beautifully and I was depressed for weeks because I couldn't look forward to it anymore. In this universe, at least we're all suffering together here at the end of all things.

And at least the little Hoshino family is still adorable. Too bad Ai is dead, Aqua is dead, and Ruby desperately needs grief counseling. But NEVER MIND. Look at Ai's smile and the twins' faces. This was the Oshi no Ko I really loved.

[morealias]

""lying is wrong" what evangelical nonsense is this???"

It's not evangelical. It's parental and societal. If you cannot be trusted to speak truthfully, you cannot be trusted to speak truthfully.

Children (in general) do not have the capacity for complex moral codes. Something is either wrong, or it is right for young children. As children grow up they will encounter instances where adults lie, hopefully they'll have a discussion with their parents that leads a more nuanced moral code, a greater understanding of where flexibility of speech and being truthful intersects.

I posit that it is never "good" to lie. It can be morally neutral in totality of the act. Deceiving someone can serve the Greater Good - "but whose greater good?" is always the question to ask here.

Lying is never a 'good' thing, however, if it serves a good purpose, a necessary purpose (survival), do not hesitate. To anyone saying "But that's good!" No, lying is never good. Ask yourself, which is better, to live in a world where you never have to lie, or to live in one where you must? If that doesn't show you that lying is not "good" but rather is necessary to avoid worse outcomes, then I cannot help you.

"sometimes it accomplishes a goal"

If you are lying it should always be in service of a goal. If you're lying just to lie… that is wrong.

If you're lying when it's meaningless to test your ability to lie, that is in service of a goal, "testing to see if I can lie".

"sometimes the truth is nobody's business, or is tricky to articulate, or you don't know what the truth is but are expected to have an answer regardless."

Then just say that. "It's none of your business", "that's hard to put into words/it's complicated, give me [TIME UNITS] to figure out how best/simply to say it", "I don't know, but I can find out for you".

If you don't feel safe speaking the actual truth, then of course lie.

"However, it is also still a useful social tool, and of course it’s part of the tool kit that you used to create stories. If you can’t lie, how can you write or tell a good story?"

I put forth that storytelling* is not lying. You are not decieving someone else, you are sharing a fiction. Maybe this is some small autistic line I refuse to cross or some weird ethical flexibility that serves me, but it's my line and my flexibility. Maybe it's even my lie. * By which I mean you and your audience understand your just 'telling a story". There may be truth in it, but the story is a story, facts are changed, obscured, elements of the story are whole cloth, if not all of it. This is the understanding between storyteller and audience. If the audience isn't made aware of this†, at least at someone point, it is lying and likely dangerous.

† See 1938 War of the Worlds radio broadcast. Yes the public was made aware of the broadcast just being a story, and thankfully no one lost thier life over it, but the radio station apologized for good reason. The panic was also not anywhere near as widespread or as terrible as the news media reporting on it made it out to be, or as CBS or ORson Wells played it up to enhance their legend.

A lesson for modern times about how the news sensationalizes things eh?

"Which is kind of a dark art."

Manipulating people into believing something that "never happened", something that is not true, is not "kind of a dark art", it is completely dark. Even if it's for the Greater Good.

"lying is wrong" what evangelical nonsense is this???

[nevertoomanyspiders]

it's a Wheeler!

for literally no goddamn reason, have an assortment of Wheelers from various adaptations and depictions ...that aren't John R. Neill's art or Return to Oz stuff, everyone already knows those, haha.

...well ok except this one from the endpaper of Ozma of Oz because it's new to me, at least, and the gutenberg.org copy doesn't have it.

what a dang dork, bless. glad he and Tik-Tok set aside their differences to watch the race.

Illustration

from 1976 Polish edition of Ozma of Oz with art by Zbigniew Rychlicki, via Reddit:

these lads are so stylish and their oversized heads are pretty freaky, dang.

a very 17th century Wheeler from 1970 Japanese edition of Ozma of Oz, art by Sonoko Arai, via Hungry Tiger Talk:

a dang goofy Wheeler by Vlada Stolikovich, 1976. also via Hungry Tiger Talk:

anyway, fuck, um, everything else is under a cut because this post ended up a bit too long oops.

something I have a hard time finding information on beyond that what I assume to be a Korean translation (?) of an Indonesian edition (???) of Ozma of Oz with 3D CGI illustrations. would be fun to see if there's more images within. not a damn clue who made these illustrations, either.

gosh those Wheelers. dunno what the artist was going for but there's a bit of a renaissance vibe. what if this was an animated thing? on that note...

Animated adaptations

the 1987 direct-to-video short Dorothy Meets Ozma of Oz has uh. these fuckers. seemingly there's only two. probably because of low animation budget, lol.

well, I say there's two, but it's just one design with a palette swap one has blonde hair and pink coat, the other has black hair and orange coat or something. also it's not evident from the screenshots but these dorks have long, pretty eyelashes and GAWD the voice acting is. well. hear for yourselves.

one of my favourite moments is Ozma turning up, saying "Enough." and bonking a Wheeler on the head with her scepter. here's the time stamp.

oh yeah I'm sure a bunch of folks have seen the Wheelers as seen in Oz Kids courtesy of this post. they appear in the episode Who Stole Santa. (and no it wasn't the Wheelers, obviously, they're just here to be annoying and trying to prevent the characters from taking a specific path.)

the guy in purple, who I'm calling Squeky Wheel, looks a lot like the Wheeler in this Ozma of Oz chapter art by John R. Neill. poor guy got walloped pretty hard.

anyway only Squeaky talks while his two buddies remain silent. these guys are such pushovers and the kids aren't scared of them at all.

Dorothy and the Wizard of Oz (2017-2020) has these little bobble-headed goobers.

can't say I'm crazy about how they look but their characterization as reckless speedsters is a fun one. in one episode they even make friends with Tin Man after he replaces a busted wheel.

Ozu no Mahotsukai (オズの魔法使い, 1986-1987) has a... very strange interpretation of the Wheelers, but then, the series does play fast and loose with the source material as it is, which I don't mind! an adaptation doing something fun with the source material adds an element of unpredictability which I like... so, I'm not terribly surprised by how much they deviate from the book descriptions.

they wouldn't look too out of place in the B.C. comic strip.

and this segues perfectly to...

Comics

the Marvel comic adaptation of Ozma of Oz by Eric Shanower (writer) and Skottie Young (artist) probably has some of my fav depictions of the Wheelers, and I really like this variant cover (I believe it's by Eric Shanower?)

these guys are utterly freaky but also dang silly. watching these fucked up abominations bumble around defuses the terror.

there he go

so, there's the ones I've seen so far. if there's more that you know of, SEND THEM TO ME I NEED THEM SO BAD HELP

[killallxys2]

Chapter 3 - Why is it Difficult to Stop?

All makeup users often feel as though something has taken over them. In the early stages, it’s a simple matter of saying, “I’ll stop relying on makeup, just not today.” Over time, we begin to feel like we don’t have enough willpower to step away from it, or that there’s something about makeup we truly need to feel good about ourselves. Breaking free from makeup dependency is like trying to climb out of a slippery pit: we get close to the top, catching glimpses of self-confidence, but then find ourselves sliding back down as our insecurities resurface. Eventually, we reach for the makeup, and as we apply it, a sense of guilt creeps in.

If you ask someone hooked on makeup, “If you could go back to a time before you felt you needed makeup every day, would you have started using it like this?” their answer would be, “NO WAY!”

Ask someone who’s a firm believer in makeup and insists it’s harmless or even essential, “Would you encourage your child to depend on makeup from a young age?” The answer, again, would likely be, “NO WAY!”

Makeup dependency is a strange paradox. The difficulty isn’t in explaining why it’s easy to cut back, but in explaining why it’s hard to let go. And why, once we recognize the toll it takes on our self-esteem, do we keep reaching for it? Part of the reason is that we see millions of people using makeup — it feels normal. Yet many who rely on it wish they hadn’t started in the first place. We try so hard to master makeup techniques, thinking it’s a form of freedom or self-expression, only to spend years trying to undo the habit, often feeling like we’re alone in this.

We end up feeling hopeless or unhappy, preferring the perfectly contoured face over our own natural features. This constant dependence keeps us caught in a cycle of insecurity, fatigue, and self-doubt. Relying on makeup — with its inability to bring out our true confidence — we ultimately feel drained and dissatisfied.

Ironically, reading about the addictive nature of makeup routines on beauty sites only makes us feel more insecure! What kind of habit leaves us wishing we could stop when we’re using it, yet feeling anxious without it? We criticize ourselves every time we hide behind makeup with friends or family, and every time we skip activities that make us feel vulnerable, like going out without makeup. We end up spending a significant part of our day struggling with self-image. But the real question is: what do we truly gain from a life spent hiding behind a layer of makeup? Absolutely nothing!

You might be thinking, “That’s all well and good, but once you’re hooked on makeup, it’s really hard to stop.” Why is it so difficult? Some may say it’s because we’re afraid of the way we look without it, but you’ll soon realize that this fear is actually quite mild. After all, many people who wear makeup every day never realize how it influences their self-worth.

Some say makeup is accessible, making it a valuable tool for everyone to feel beautiful — but this is misleading. It can easily become a crutch. If you ask someone who only wears light makeup if they've ever felt tempted to try heavier or bolder looks, they’d likely admit to moments when they crossed that line, rather than going without makeup altogether.

Enjoyment has nothing to do with makeup dependency either. I enjoy crayfish, but I’ve never felt like I needed to have crayfish every day. With most things in life, we enjoy them in the moment, but we don’t feel deprived or anxious when they’re not there.

Some people say: “It’s empowering!” But how has it truly helped you grow as a person? “It’s about feeling beautiful!” Then why does it often leave you feeling insecure or dissatisfied? “It’s a form of self-care!” So why does it just temporarily mask insecurities, only for them to resurface? “It helps me feel relaxed.” But others seem to feel relaxed without relying on it. There are plenty of genuine self-care practices that provide peace and relaxation without dependency.

Many believe that makeup fills a void of boredom, but boredom is simply a frame of mind. Over-relying on makeup can lead to constantly seeking the next look, the next trend, or the perfect style, eventually causing us to chase a sense of novelty that feels exhausting, never really feeling "enough."

Some people use makeup because "everyone does it." If so, let’s hope those same friends don’t cut their heads off and expect you to follow! Most makeup users who think about it would admit it’s mostly habit. But this is hardly a real explanation. The truth is, we change habits all the time — some very enjoyable ones too. We’ve been conditioned to believe that makeup is just a harmless habit and that habits are hard to break.

But are habits really that hard to break? In the U.S., people drive on the right side of the road, but when they travel abroad, they adapt quickly to driving on the left with little difficulty. Starting a new job or moving to a new city changes our routines entirely, yet we adjust with time. We change habits every day, so why is it that breaking a makeup habit — something that often leaves us feeling worse when we use it and guilty afterward — feels like such a struggle?

The answer is that makeup dependency isn’t just a habit, it can become a type of emotional reliance, even an addiction to feeling "masked" or altered. That’s why it can feel hard to let go. Many people who feel dependent on makeup don’t understand this and think they’re genuinely sacrificing something if they stop.

The beautiful truth is that once you understand why you feel this reliance on makeup, it becomes much easier to let go. In a few weeks, the only question you’ll have is why you felt so dependent on makeup for so long, and you’ll wonder why you can’t convince others just how freeing it is to go natural and feel comfortable in your own skin

3.1 The Sinister Trap

Makeup can be a subtle, addictive trap, one created by both society and our own insecurities. Often, it starts with a small introduction — maybe a simple lip gloss, mascara, or foundation, something we try out of curiosity, fun, or a desire to feel a bit more confident. These first uses seem harmless and even empowering. But over time, the habit of makeup can become something we rely on, creating a belief that we’re not enough without it.

Initially, makeup gives us that sense of control, helping us present our "best self" to the world, like putting on armor. We think we can stop whenever we want, feeling secure that it’s just for fun or a little boost. But as we incorporate it into our daily lives, the routine becomes harder to break. We start seeing makeup as essential, and soon, we may not want to face the world without it.

For many, trying to quit using makeup might only come after an “incident” — feeling dependent, noticing skin concerns from overuse, or simply feeling trapped in a routine of covering up. But as we try to break free, the absence of makeup can lead to feelings of vulnerability and discomfort, as if we’re lacking a shield. Instead of gaining the confidence we wanted in the beginning, we find ourselves feeling anxious or exposed.

In these moments, we might rationalize keeping up the habit, thinking we’ll cut back when life feels easier or less stressful. However, that stress-free period never truly comes, and the idea of quitting feels daunting. Just like we once believed makeup made us look better, we might now feel it’s necessary to cope with life’s pressures. But makeup isn’t truly relieving stress or solving any problem; it’s just become a habit.

Understanding the true nature of makeup dependency can be freeing. Makeup isn’t inherently harmful, but we don’t need it to feel whole or capable. Once we realize this, the process of letting go can become a path toward greater self-acceptance and peace with who we are.

We often confuse responsibility with the stress of maintaining a certain appearance. Just like any addiction, relying on makeup can actually increase our stress over time, even though many of us believe it’s relaxing or comforting. In reality, the constant need to apply makeup, cover every perceived flaw, and keep up appearances can weigh us down, especially when we feel guilty for not being confident without it. Over time, each layer applied late at night, every time we feel "not enough" without makeup, only adds more to this stress.

Many people who decide to quit makeup do find relief, only to sometimes fall back into the same cycle, feeling drawn again to the allure of looking "perfect." It’s as if we’ve wandered into a maze of beauty expectations, one that makes it hard to escape. While some do manage to break free, the pull to reenter the routine often remains, especially when society keeps reinforcing that polished look as the standard.

The challenge of stepping away from makeup dependency is complex and often feels like a riddle. But once you see the answer, it becomes clear and liberating — and you might even wonder why you didn’t realize it sooner! This journey is about breaking free from this maze by slowly unlearning the beliefs that make makeup feel necessary.

However, it’s important to take things step by step. Rushing through this transformation without careful thought, or skipping parts of the journey, could make it easy to slip back into old patterns. Most people can quit the habit once they understand the core reasons that keep them hooked, which boil down to two main influences:

Society's unrealistic beauty standards

Personal insecurities and cultural brainwashing

People who rely on makeup are thoughtful, rational individuals. Yet deep down, they know they never "needed" makeup before they started using it regularly. Many even remember feeling unsure or awkward the first time they applied it, driven by curiosity or a desire to fit in. But over time, we learn techniques, save tutorials, follow beauty influencers, and work hard to master the art, eventually feeling like we can't go without it.

The funny thing is, many non-makeup wearers — whether they’re older people, those with different beauty norms, or those who never felt pressured by societal standards — don’t feel like they’re missing out on anything at all. By understanding the influences at play, we can dismantle the trap makeup dependency creates, freeing ourselves to embrace our natural beauty with confidence.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Did you ever write a meta about the First Wizarding War?

I am just so curious about it, although we know almost nothing of it. I know in fanfictions, people tend to make the war something very open, very active, with the Order fighting the Death Eaters in the streets but it feels... off to me?

Like, first of all, how would they know when the DE attack? By the time they would learn about the attack, it's most likely the DE would already have left. And overall, when you read about the 2nd Wizarding War, they never attack place like Diallon Alley or Hogsmeade, but rather kidnap people like Ollivander and Fortescue. Which make me wonder how Voldemort was able to ask teens James and Lily to join him (like said in JK's interview).

When you read what Arthur said about this war:

"You-Know-Who and his followers sent the Dark Mark into the air whenever they killed. The terror it inspired… you have no idea, you're too young. Just picture coming home and finding the Dark Mark hovering over your house, and knowing what you're about to find inside… Everyone's worst fear… the very worst."

Well, it sounds more like they would attack people at their home, so the DE are more likely to target people when they attack, while they would cause havrock in the Muggle world. Something that made sense since they don't want to destroy the Wizarding World and the wizards.

Although to be fair, it's not like they have much place to attack in the Wizarding world: the only place we know are Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, Diagon Alley and the Ministry.

I just have a hard time imagining how the war would be like, considering the Ministry was not taken by Voldemort. It's like this world is too small for a war of that kind.

Also, it makes me wonder what was really the role of the Order? Like what did they do? What kind of mission would they do? How would they know when to intervene? I know Remus had missions with werewolf during the 2nd war, but we don't know if he had the same during the 1st. Sirius was away busy with a mission during Harry's first birthday, but I wonder what he was doing. Was it a last minute battle?

"No, but believe me, they thought Voldemort had the right idea, they were all for the purification of the Wizarding race, getting rid of Muggle-borns and having purebloods in charge. They weren’t alone either, there were quite a few people, before Voldemort showed his true colors, who thought he had the right idea about things… They got cold feet when they saw what he was prepared to do to get power, though. But I bet my parents thought Regulus was a right little hero for joining up at first.”

It's implied people actually thought Voldemort had the right ideas, which makes me wonder if back then, the muggleborns were less accepted. What was the climate that made it happen? Was it that a bit like with jews, which is how Hitler got to powers?

Also the line in bold always interested me because it didn't feel like the Blacks knew about the Horcruxes, so I wonder what else would give them cold feet.

Sorry for the long text, I just never found someone to talk about it. Nobody seems to get me when I try to think too much about how it was like lol

Hello 👋

Honestly, this is really interesting and I have written about the first war as part of my Voldemort analysis here and here and also here and here. And I'm honestly really curious about the timeline of the first war and what exactly the Order and the DE actually did.

I would say you're right about it not being a war. I mean, for a war, you need armies and countries, and there wasn't a single army involved in this war.

The DE are somewhere between a cult and a terrorist organization. In the first war (and in the second one while Voldemort manages them, tbh) their operations are limited to more targeted killings and in general spreading fear and chaos while keeping a not-super-high death tool (in the first war) and avoiding hurting muggles when possible. Like, up until 1979, basically no one died. We have less than 10 unnamed and named characters that might've died before that and the rest died afterwards. Like, almost all deaths happened in the final 3 years of the war.

Then you have the ministry, which doesn't have an army, it has law enforcement. The aurors and DMLE are not an army and don't really function as one. They are trained to catch criminals, not to fight large-scale battles (not that there were any battles in the first war).

The Order, which if we're generous we can call a paramilitary group (but realistically it's a vigilante armed civilian group).

So, it's hardly a war when it's small-scale attacks and skirmishes fought between a cult/terrorist organization, the police, and an armed civilian group. Its timeline and death tool and how it operates as a whole really doesn't fit a war. Well, it's a terror guerilla sort of war, but not your traditional kind of war. The second Voldemort war was more of a real war than the first one, and even that wasn't a traditional war in any sense and I would hardly call it one. But at least it had battles. Like 2.5 of them.

I outlined more of the timeline here with the evidence for it, but in general:

1967ish - Voldemort returns to the UK and has his interview with Dumbledore. At this point, he already has somewhat of a following. Unclear if these were his "friends" from school or their children, but they are likely the older "friends" from school:

“Then if I were to go to the Hog’s Head tonight, I would not find a group of them — Nott, Rosier, Mulciber, Dolohov — awaiting your return? Devoted friends indeed, to travel this far with you on a snowy night, merely to wish you luck as you attempted to secure a teaching post.”

(HBP)

1970 - the war starts.

“You can’t blame them,” said Dumbledore gently. “We’ve had precious little to celebrate for eleven years.”

(PS)

Since Dumbledore says this on November 1981, it means the DE started operating in late 1970. Arthur tells us Death Eaters outnumbered the Order 20 to 1, but I think the Order only started operating later in the decade.

I believe that in the early 70s, they weren't too violent yet. There were some attacks, some chaos similar to what we see in the World Cup perhaps:

I suppose they had a few drinks tonight and couldn’t resist reminding us all that lots of them are still at large. A nice little reunion for them,” he finished disgustedly.

(GoF)

Attacks that strawn fear and unrest and stretched the ministry and the DMLE thin with how many obliviations had to be done — but no one died, not yet. At least, no one important. We know all of the Order members that died were only killed after the infamous photo was taken much later, so it seems in these early days of the war, they didn't really kill anyone perhaps a few muggles here and there (but not as many as the fandom sometimes like to think!) but no wizards died, at least not at first.

I assume this period is mostly marked by small-ish riots and growing normalization of anti-muggle and anti-muggleborn propaganda.

This is the point where Voldemort amassed his followers and purebloods like Walburga and Orion Black thought he had the right idea. Even during the time in the books, muggles are seen as beneath wizards, and muggleborns like Hermione are quietly pressured into not talking about their muggle families because no one cares. Muggleborns like Hermione and Ted Tonks clearly leave their muggle families behind and don't look back and that's accepted as the norm in the wizarding world.

Even in the 90s we see Slughorn is surprised Hermione, the muggleborn, is so talented. Bigotry is still very much present and as I calculated here, muggleborns are only around 5% of the population, with the majority being purebloods (or wizard-raised half-bloods). The blood purity agenda was always there, Voldemort didn't even believe in it himself, he just used it because it was an easily accessible platform that was just there. It was an easy way to gain followers and create unrest, so he took it. It was opportunistic.

So, in that way, yes, it is similar to Nazi Germany. Antisemitism was already there and prevalent in the culture for centuries, Hitler made use of the ideology already present and normalized it, and even made it righteous to believe in his horrid and bigoted ideology. He pushed the culture to more extremes, but the ideas and philosophies were already there, he didn't invent antisemitism in Germany. It was opportunistic. It didn't come out of nowhere and it wasn't just recent either. Antisemitism has a long history in Europe which I'm not going to go into in this post.

1975 - the war gets more violent and wizards are actually killed. We know from Pottermore that:

Eugenia Jenkins 1968 - 1975 Jenkins dealt competently with pure-blood riots during Squib Rights marches in the late sixties, but was soon confronted with the first rise of Lord Voldemort. Jenkins was soon ousted from office as inadequate to the challenge.

(From Pottermore)

It's said Jenkins was ousted from office "soon" after the rise of Voldemort, which again, suggests the more violent attacks only started mid-70s, around 1974 and 1975. From the list of deaths in the post I already linked throughout this post I posed the deaths that ousted her from office were Mr. and Mrs. Bones who we don't have a death date for and were likely important enough in the magical community to send the shockwaves of war that would get the minister kicked out of office. After all, you need something big to rock the wizarding community, a few muggle deaths aren't going to cut it.

(Also the mention of pure-blood riots earlier in the 60s show blood purity was nothing new, just something Voldemort took advantage of that was already there)

This is the point where Walburga and Orion probably got the cold feet Sirius mentioned. Because it's not just muggles and muggleborns anymore. Two pureblood wizards were killed — and that scared the shit out of purebloods who were a little smarter. The realization Voldemort would kill them too if he thought it necessary. It's not that they grew to care about muggleborns or blood traitors, it was self-interest. They realized that Voldemort didn't have any limits and that they weren't safe just because their blood was pure. That's at least, my take on it.

1976 - The Order of the Pheonix is founded

The Order of the Phoenix was likely founded around 1976-1977 after Voldemort and the DE got more violent and a few people actually died and it became clear to Dumbledore the ministry couldn't handle it on their own.

I believe the Order was kinda late to the party (considering how late Dumbledore was when dealing with Grindlewald). I think he advised the ministry on what to do and really hoped the ministry and the DMLE could resolve it at first. When it appeared they couldn't, that's when he founded the Order.

Now, you're right, the first war doesn't seem to have had any actual battles, my guess is that is was as I mentioned above — targeted attacks and skirmishes.

During the first war, Voldemort holds a pretty tight leash on his Death Eaters and who they kill. That's why they kill at homes and kill only specific ministry personnel and Order members for the most part. It's very targeted and specific. They aren't rounding up muggleborns as Lupin says these laws were new in the second war:

“People won’t let this happen,” said Ron. “It is happening, Ron,’; said Lupin. “Muggle-borns are being rounded up as we speak.”

(DH)

This is only in the second war. In the first one, there was no muggleborn registry or compulsive attendance at Hogwarts. The first war was all targeted terror attacks. The DE didn't have the ministry the way they did in the second one. Yes, they had quite a few members in the ministry who probably tried to pass various laws, but it wasn't the complete control they had in 1997-1998.

I assume, what the Order did in these years, was try to gain intelligence about where and when these attacks would happen so they could wait for the Death Eaters there. Again, sort of skirmish warfare and not quite open battles. Very few combatants were probably present for each of these fights.

Most of the Order missions would've been along the lines of:

Protecting expected DE targets

Recon missions and gaining intelligence through various means

Blocking DE in the ministry from getting the intel they are after or passing their laws.

Stuff that is more targeted and doesn't require a full-scale army.

1980 - The Prophecy and Potters going into hiding

(Edit: More notes regarding the timing of the photo and corrections to this section here. James and Lily went into hiding in the winter of 1980, but the Order's photo was taken while James and Lily were in hiding in July 1981, meaning all the Order members died in the 4 months between Harry's birthday and the end of the war)

The prophecy was made about two months before Harry was born:

He stepped forward. Not as tall as Ron, he had to crane his neck to read the yellowish label affixed to the shelf right beneath the dusty glass ball. In spidery writing was written a date of some sixteen years previously, and below that: S. P. T. to A. P. W. B. D. Dark Lord and (?) Harry Potter

(OotP)

We also know from Harry's birthdate that Lily would've gotten pregnant with him around late October 1979. Due to how the Fidelius Charm works I believe the Potters went into hiding before Harry was born, right after the Prophecy was made, so around May 1980. All this means the photo Moody shows Harry was taken at some point in 1979 or early 1980 before Lily's stomach was showing with the pregnancy, but I'm leaning towards late 1979.

This means that almost all deaths in the war (and all the deaths of the Order) happened after 1979. This was probably caused by two things:

Voldemort escalating for some reason (after 1980 the prophecy might've had a hand in the escalation of violence for various reasons I discussed in the linked posts)

Wormtail started spying mid-1980:

“DON’T LIE!” bellowed Black. “YOU’D BEEN PASSING INFORMATION TO HIM FOR A YEAR BEFORE LILY AND JAMES DIED! YOU WERE HIS SPY!”

(PoA)

So it's possible Wormtail revealed exactly where and when the Order was waiting for the DE and the DE could get the jump on them with more wizards than the Order thought there would be.

These two combined factors practically wiped out most of the first Order.

But we're still talking about skirmishes, just larger ones with a higher death tool, but still no large-scale battles like the Battle of Hogwarts. Enlisting the giants wasn't really because Voldemort used them in the war, there were no battles to use them in. They were a threat, kinda like nukes. It was something you have so your enemies won't attack you. Werewolves were similar, although they were probably employed in some of the skirmishes.

This time period since 1979 is probably when this quote from Sirius becomes the case:

“Imagine that Voldemort’s powerful now. You don’t know who his supporters are, you don’t know who’s working for him and who isn’t; you know he can control people so that they do terrible things without being able to stop themselves. You’re scared for yourself, and your family, and your friends. Every week, news comes of more deaths, more disappearances, more torturing . . . the Ministry of Magic’s in disarray, they don’t know what to do, they’re trying to keep everything hidden from the Muggles, but meanwhile, Muggles are dying too. Terror everywhere . . . panic . . . confusion . . . that’s how it used to be.

(GoF)

More wizards are now being killed/targeted. Most of them probably get tortured/imprisoned rather than killed. Like Neville says about the Carrows:

“Doesn’t matter. They don’t want to spill too much pure blood, so they’ll torture us a bit if we’re mouthy but they won’t actually kill us.”

(DH)

These are terror attacks meant to create compliance. So most are tortured, kidnapped as ransom and assurance of loyalty, or imperious rather than killed. Those that are killed would only be those that really have no hope to turn them onside — like the Order, hence why Voldemort allowed them to be killed.

1980 - The added deaths and skirmishes caused another minister to be kicked out of office:

Harold Minchum 1975 - 1980 Seen as a hard-liner, he placed even more Dementors around Azkaban, but was unable to contain what looked like Voldemort’s unstoppable rise to power.

(From Pottermore)

As I mentioned, in the final years of the war, shit got way worse with more deaths happening in the span of these 3 years than all the 8 years of "war" before combined. So another minister who doesn't know how to crack down on the terror organization is kicked out.

October 1981 - Voldemort goes after the Potters and the war ends.

And we know what happens from here.

These are my thoughts about the timeline of the first war and how it went. We don't know as much about it as I would've liked to know, but this is my impression of how it went down more or less.

[deathlygristly]

I accidentally deleted my reblog from earlier today so I'll say it again.

Thank you for this perspective. It's probably that "literal interpretation of language" thing but while watching all the recent Discourse about That Post I got stuck on the idea that some people were blaming everyone on the internet for not being able to control what strangers in leftish online cults post. Especially that one really pushy post that was like "Fix your heart or die!"

I think everyone is on edge right now for obvious reasons and emotions are high so that's contributing to misinterpretation too.

Anyway I can't personally stop anyone who's fallen into radfemmy or radfem adjacent culty spaces from posting hateful things that might then be the final push some young boy gets to go join MRA or MRA adjacent culty spaces, but what I can do is share things like the warning signs of culty online spaces and advocate blocking any accounts that come off culty before you start taking them personally and letting them affect your worldview in any direction.

"Is this group asking you to hate, or ostracise a group of people or behaviour?" she says.

"That would be a big red flag."

Ms Davtian says you can be involved in an online community "without joining their cult" by "maintaining healthy boundaries and practising a healthy dose of doubt and skepticism".

"Don't go all in. Take what serves you, leave the rest."

1. The group/person has the Total and Only answer. Only they have the right line, will make the revolution, solve your problems, empower you, make you loved, rich, effective, holy, etc.

2. Attempts to isolate you from existing close relationships (friends/family) and the outside world.

6. The group creates conditions of extreme stress, threat or fear (emotional and/or physical.)

9. Loaded language: strange language or jargon you initially can’t understand. Canned, repetitive phrases.

10. A hard sell for further commitment, programs or contact. If you resist, you’re selfish, ungodly, “bourgeois”, don’t believe in yourself, etc.

Basically social media is a great environment for cults to grow in, and it's really important to learn about cults and how they work and then use the block button liberally to protect yourself. If some people or a group keep posting really hateful things about a group you're a part of, block their accounts. If it starts getting to you, talk to someone outside the internet group, either in your IRL space or maybe a friend from a less hateful internet space.

Maybe kindness can pull you out of a culty group you've fallen into, maybe not. Best thing to do is to be kind to yourself and arm yourself as best you can against falling into the culty group in the first place.

It is not “coddling” to refrain from telling people “I hate you for the way you were born.”

When I say it hurts the feminist cause to consider men our enemy rather than just patriarchy itself, accusations of “coddling” are the most common response I get. I am not asking anyone to put men’s feelings over calling them out for misogyny they enact and perpetuate. I am talking about expressing sentiments in public or to men directly that you despise them for existing at all.

It’s one thing to be traumatized by sexism and vent your feelings about men amongst friends. But normalizing this as a part of mainstream feminism, making it so men have to see these sentiments when they engage with feminist content, drives them away from our movement. You can say men driven away by being openly hated never were going to be feminists in the first place, but I staunchly disagree. It says nothing about one’s views on oppression to not want to be around people who say they consider you an irredeemable monster no matter how hard you try to support them.

This is not about men’s feelings. I do feel that people should care about those too, including because as a transmasc I am extremely aware that seeing these sentiments harms trans men, such as preventing them from being out and transitioning for fear of being hated by those around them. But this is about what is effective in breaking down the structure of sexism. Excluding half the population from being our allies matters. Cis men should be able to use their privilege to shoulder some of the work of fighting sexism. How will they learn how to do so if we ostracize them?

Note: This is not saying that men who see women hating them and respond by becoming MRAs and whatnot are totally fine or women’s fault. It’s just that it is difficult for men to be vocal feminists when people base their feminism off of hating men.

[i-am-xp-64]

Lost combat the proven

Help help..-

As the car drive to an old wood house, Zachary carried lim who was unconscious to the basement, where he kept Thomas at

"Hey heeyy..look what I got for you Thomas~"

Zachary throw lim on the floor next to Thomas who was tied up, he let out a chuckle as he get an axe but struggled to find any rope

"What the..oh that tab freak! He taken all the ropes for that damn cult again?? Ugh anyway, that kid can just rot there!"

Zachary whined as he put back the axe, he mumble curses as he went up to call tab about it

Meanwhile Thomas did nothing but stared at lim, his son who was hit on the head, he knew lim is an I'm dead so he won't die but he was still worried about him, he tried so hard not to cry so at least he won't scare lim when he woke up, he waited there all tied and afraid, thinking how's the others are like right now

-Meanwhile-

Jett came out of the therapy place early to go check the others as he come across Vicky on the street, he cursed as she approaches

"𝐽𝑒𝑡𝑡?..𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑠𝑜 𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒?"

"Girl shut up..you don't know what we had this week, anyway, you also going to the house?"

"𝑌-𝑦𝑒𝑎ℎ..𝑤𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑙𝑠𝑜 𝑔𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑙𝑒𝑡'𝑠 𝑔𝑜 𝑡𝑜𝑔𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑛^^"

Jett just sighed as he just nobbed

As they walked near the house, they noticed the door were wide open and there were a little blood on the car road near, Jett looked inside as he called for lim, bit no sounds happened

As jett looking around the house, Vicky go straight to Thomas's and lim's rooms, she alarmed jett that they were not in the house, both panicked as an old neighbor come to the door calling them as they stared

"Excuse me young ones..you two love here?"

"Almost..?"

With out saying anything, the old lady hand them some photos she taken, it was from an old camera but it was showns that lim were taken away and Thomas drive it off, the lady just left as she were nervous as jett and Vicky study the photos to see what's going on

As that, monster, conner and Albert came in, Albert were just came from the surgery and monster helped him walk, meanwhile they were saw conner as he approached and tell monster about the police call that talked around the neighborhood and included their friends, Vicky and jett alarmed them as they shown the photos, monster and conner focused on the photos and others actually surprise to see Albert a little odd

"𝑀𝑟 𝐴𝑙𝑏𝑒𝑟𝑡?..𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑒𝑒 𝑎 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒...𝑑𝑖𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑡?"

"𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐚𝐬𝐤..𝐢 𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞."

Albert told them everything, including the argument he had with Thomas

"𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐮𝐥𝐭..𝐢𝐟 𝐈 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟..𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐮𝐬 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐬..𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐰𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦"

"Dude shut it, you think Thomas would randomly say all that of he knew this would happen to you? Get your ass together"

Vicky was confused and Albert were sad, meanwhile conner and monster chat thru about the clues

"This car was seen at the old kidnap case of Thomas before..same car, same details, it could be the same kidnapper who taken or mind control Thomas to kidnap lim."

"I think you're right..i will alarm the cops"

"No don't! If that triggers the kidnapper, they'll kill them both"

"𝐽𝑒𝑡𝑡'𝑠 𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑢𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡..𝑤𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑘𝑖𝑑𝑛𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑜 𝑖𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑏𝑒 𝑎𝑛 𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑦 𝑘𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑝.."

The others talk as they try to make a plan, meanwhile Albert were felt too guilty to even join in, keep remembering Thomas's words and believed that it was quite his fault, but this time, he lift his head up as he thinked

"𝐍𝐨..𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬...𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬..𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝..."

Albert snapped from his thoughts as he ran outside, notice the car tracks that car left and he began to follow them, monster noticed Albert was gone but before she even do anything, Andrew came in, monster didn't stop, ran out to the police department to alarm as others explain the situation

After an hour later, Zachary was pissed as a lot as he stare at the criminal photo of tab being caught this morning

"Ugh!..i knew I should've do this alone.."

But as he slowly approach to the basement, a gun click sound came and Zachary just froze there

"𝐒𝐚𝐲 𝐡𝐢 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞."

Albert said as he pull the trigger

BANG BANG💥💥

Zachary fell to the floor as he been shot on the shoulder and leg, Albert walked pass him as he approach to Thomas and lim

To be continue..

@weirdsillycreature @astrodrawz @victiniiiii

Yeah I couldn't able to fit the full one in this so there will be a next chapter, sorry..���

[vigilskeep]

did you sacrifice Neve or Bellara and what was the in game/out of game thought process? also which ending did you get with solas???

bellara!!!

i feel like ““sacrifice”” is a bit harsh jgshsjsksk. it felt important—to ME—that sol trust bellara in this final moment, and let her take a risk.

i mentioned not long ago that sol never wanted to tell bellara what they actually thought because they didn’t want to hurt her feelings. they worry this is condescending because, well, it is. going into bellara’s personal quest, that was absolutely their mindset: they don’t have to be pushy and insist bellara accept the truth that cyrian is evil, because they can simply be there to stop cyrian for her, thus protecting her from all emotional duress and physical harm. then they get completely blindsided when bellara actually convinces cyrian! it was a pretty arc-altering, eye-opening moment for sol for a lot of reasons. they should have had faith in bellara, and recognising that she was right and they were wrong challenges their core beliefs that people don’t change and don’t act against their own interests and you only have yourself to blame if you expect anything other than human nature and then inevitably get hurt. if sol was in bellara’s position, they would have killed their cyrian when they didn’t have to.

(this is a pretty unsettling thought, given that a) in their backstory, they have killed someone they loved before, probably without giving them the chances that bellara did, and b) they have something like a brother, who they usually assume the worst of, without having ever really just asked him certain things and given him a chance to speak for himself)

so it felt like the correct development, to me, to have sol rely on bellara in this crucial moment. (as an aside, also the correct development to protect neve, which sol previously failed to do.) they’ve grown to have faith in her judgement, rather than see her as naive and try to cushion her from the fight! i was thrilled with the result. it felt so right to have a brilliant young dalish mind in that position in the final battle. the alternative would be strange to me especially with a human rook in the picture too

this actually leads directly into the answer to your other question, because sol (perhaps surprisingly) gave solas a shot at redemption! and the arc that bellara’s personal quest ties into is really crucial there. sol has always wanted to believe that people can change their nature. obviously, it would be ideal for them if people could, because sol wants to believe they can one day leave the crows without it destroying everything they care about. it felt like a fitting ending for them to let solas try. it felt like an arc, considering that sol previously has always, always chosen to punch first and talk later. just once i wanted them to give someone a chance. and also to not jump at another shot to make something a physical confrontation and get themself killed! mental health win! for once, they didn’t want another fight, they just wanted everyone who still could, including themself, to get to go home. (lucanis dellamorte, the effect your big pleading brown eyes have.)

it’s what made this a hopeful open ending, to me. after all, if sol can change the dread wolf’s path, how can changing the fate of one little crow feel as impossible?

(they’d still be messed up about it though, it was not an easy choice and i was sat there for a minute. like i said in my other post, solas fucked them up. and they feel they might have betrayed harding. they were the one who convinced her to embrace her anger! and then she died, trusting them, and they just... let solas go? what kind of loyalty is that?)

[mikurulucky]

So, apparently, Kei Tomiyama had a music single of some sort in 1979 with two music tracks. One of the voices of my f/o (and my favorite va of his at that) could actually sing??

I'm... almost too nervous to actually listen to it. One of the songs did end up on youtube.... I don't think my heart can take it. o//.//o