#this person is falling out of love with art

[phoenixrisingastro]

🔥 MERCURY IN THE HOUSES: HOW YOUR MIND CONTROLS, SEDUCES, AND DESTROYS 🔥

Your Mercury placement is not just the way you think—it’s the way you control the game.

This is the art of words, persuasion, seduction, and psychological warfare. Mercury isn’t just talking. It’s planting thoughts in people’s heads like seeds of obsession. It’s how you manipulate reality with your voice, your text, your silence.

This post isn’t just an astrology guide. It’s a manual for control.

🔥 MERCURY IN THE 1ST HOUSE: THE MIND AS A WEAPON

You don’t speak words—you declare them. You don’t talk to people—you imprint yourself onto them.

✔ Your mind is your face, your aura, your power. People don’t even realize how deeply you influence them until it’s too late.

✔ Charisma? You don’t need it. You already command attention just by existing.

✔ Your weakness? Overexposure. If people figure you out too soon, they can escape before your spell is complete.

🔥 MERCURY IN THE 2ND HOUSE: THE SILKEN TONGUE

Your voice is a currency, a temptation, a sin. It drips with sensuality, certainty, control.

✔ You could sell water to a drowning man—and make him thank you for it.

✔ Your words don’t fade. They linger, they echo, they haunt. Every compliment, every insult—it stays.

✔ You memorize details like a thief watching his mark. The way people move, their tells, their insecurities. You store it for later.

🔥 MERCURY IN THE 3RD HOUSE: THE SHAPESHIFTER

No one ever truly knows what you’re thinking. Your words dance, deceive, delight.

✔ Your intelligence is a knife. Sharp, quick, slicing through illusions like butter.

✔ You can read the room in 0.2 seconds—and shift your persona accordingly.

✔ Your greatest strength? You can make anyone feel like you’re their best friend. Even if you don’t mean it.

🔥 MERCURY IN THE 4TH HOUSE: THE SHADOWED ARCHIVIST

Your mind is a haunted mansion. Every word spoken to you stays forever.

✔ You don’t forget. Ever. A slight, a compliment, a whisper—you keep everything.

✔ People find your voice comforting, familiar, dangerously intimate.

✔ Your speech carries weight. It’s like an old book, full of mystery, wisdom, and spells.

🔥 MERCURY IN THE 5TH HOUSE: THE GOLDEN LIAR

You speak in stories, in seductions, in glittering illusions.

✔ Your words are a stage. You can make people fall in love, believe in magic, and follow you blindly.

✔ Your humor? Wicked. You know exactly how to disarm people with laughter.

✔ People mistake you for lighthearted and playful—until they realize you were orchestrating everything.

🔥 MERCURY IN THE 6TH HOUSE: THE CODEBREAKER

Your mind is a machine, a system, a perfect algorithm.

✔ You see the flaws in everything—people, plans, lies.

✔ You fix, repair, optimize—but sometimes you overanalyze to the point of madness.

✔ You dissect every interaction, every phrase, every silence.

🔥 MERCURY IN THE 7TH HOUSE: THE SWEET SABOTEUR

You know how to mirror people’s desires back at them.

✔ Your words feel intimate, personal, like a whispered confession.

✔ You control conversations effortlessly—making people open up, trust, surrender.

✔ Your words are a velvet dagger—soft, beautiful, but deadly.

🔥 MERCURY IN THE 8TH HOUSE: THE TELEPATH

Your mind is a black hole, absorbing secrets, desires, and fears.

✔ People don’t just listen to you—they feel you.

✔ You know what people don’t say, what they’re hiding, what makes them tick.

✔ Every conversation with you is an interrogation disguised as a confession.

🔥 MERCURY IN THE 9TH HOUSE: THE PHILOSOPHER-PLAYBOY

Your words feel like prophecy.

✔ You ignite minds. People feel changed after speaking with you.

✔ You can make anyone believe anything—because you believe it first.

✔ Your thoughts are bigger than the present. You think in decades, in lifetimes, in centuries.

🔥 MERCURY IN THE 10TH HOUSE: THE COMMANDER

Your voice is authority, law, prophecy.

✔ People trust your words like scripture.

✔ You don’t just speak your mind—you declare it like an order from the gods.

✔ Your intelligence is not just respected—it’s feared.

🔥 MERCURY IN THE 11TH HOUSE: THE CULT LEADER

You think in revolutions.

✔ Your ideas spread like wildfire.

✔ People don’t just follow you—they become loyalists.

✔ Your mind is 10 steps ahead. You see patterns, shifts, movements before anyone else.

🔥 MERCURY IN THE 12TH HOUSE: THE ENIGMA

Your thoughts are hidden, layered, infinite.

✔ You pick up on the unspoken, the supernatural, the karmic echoes.

✔ Your words feel like riddles, prophecies, forbidden knowledge.

✔ People trust you without knowing why.

© PhoenixRisingAstro, 2025. All rights reserved

[cutekittenlady]

Also, for the love of god, WRITE STUFF DOWN.

Go out and buy a decent notebook and begin keeping a nightly journal. A digital journal could work but I recommend a physical diary as its, in a way, more private and can't be easily deleted remotely or by accident while clearing your computer stash.

I recommend this because we NEED to keep personal records of our experiences and whats happened to us and our communities. Most importantly write how you feel and how you think.

Make no mistake there WILL be history books. This moment in time will be researched in the decades to come and the stuff we write down, the art we create, the things we care about and what is important to us, will be vital in helping to preserve just how reviled this administration and its policies were in the times they happened.

Furthermore don't just doomscroll through the news. Stay as informed as you can, but try not to let it consume you.

Study history; not just the third reich, but the fall of rome and other times things seemed to be coming to an "end" and take heart in the knowledge that their was an "afterwards". They're may have been the dark ages, but there was also the enlightenment after all.

And study art! So much art. Make some yourself if you can. It doesnt have to be good. It can be crude. Silly little stick figures and doodles, but let yourself create things. Bake things that come out a little wrong. Knit scarves that are frayed. Paint something silly and amateurish.

Look up philosophy to help you come to terms with the things going on in the world right now and maybe even find ways to combat it.

Support your local library in anyway you can. Such places are VITAL to the coming years and will be essential in keeping ourselves informed and active and help us organize.

Importanly look after yourself and your community. Not just their safety but their health. Organize food drives, swap groceries, start a personal garden, etc. Help share what healthcare resources you can find, point people towards areas of safety and support, learn mend your old clothes and give them away when needed.

Building a base of relative safety and healthy support is going to be vital in the upcoming years and every little bit helps.

[juricel]

a/n: a request but i may or may not have accidentally posted the draft and deleted it in panic, im so sorry to the original requester if you see this, please correct me if i'm wrong with something! I didn't properly memorize the phrasing of the ask.

original ask: "may i request yan!shadow milk cookie with an immortal!f/o who keeps dying to him but the more they die they grow resilient and fight back?"

— yandere! shadow milk cookie x immortal! reader hcs

໒꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞꒱ა ۪ ׂ CONTENT WARNING: manipulation, mild gore, murder, body horror, heavy obsessive and possessive behavior, kidnapping, body horror, emotional abuse, physical abuse, violence, unhealthy relationship, implied forced established relationship, implied mindbreak, potential ooc.

𖦁‎ shadow milk cookie adores every single part of you; your face, your personality, your appearance, your voice, your habits, everything—but oh, one thing that he loves about you most is when you are dead inside, aching, petrified, and falling apart.

𖦁‎ he doesn't mean to be cruel, really! it was meant to be a silly little experiment, a test of your immortality upon learning you were unable to die out of pure curiosity. However, when he crumbled you, his sweet dear, apart, oh he witnessed true beauty; you were a sight beyond manevolent, a bewitching visage, a pulchritudinously splendous piece of art. he, knelt in a puddle of hot, sweet blood, aching smile pitted against aching smile, caress your ichor-stained skin oh so gently, smudging the crimson over your now turning pale flesh—you were ravishing, organs lay splayed, tears prickling through the corner of eyes, red branching out across the sclera of your eyes, bloodied, bruised, and beneath /his/ mercy... ah, it was the illustrious form of beauty. he doesn't mean to get addicted, but oh, the sight of you... slope of stomach inwards, hip bones protruding through thin skin unnaturally, diaphragm and ribs sticking sickenly, and each bone present like a mountain range on the plateau of your pectorals; the way your scars turn beautiful, thrumming pink, and fade dark into a luscious shade of near-blue when cold; the vibrancy of your blood as it trickles down your tainted flesh... he just couldn't get enough of it! the more he thought of it, the more he got giddy.

𖦁‎ surely, you wouldn't mind him trying it out once more, don't you? it's not like you have a choice regardless! not when you're tied up and confined within his clutches. with a hand caressing your cheeks, he whispers sweet nothings, thumb stroking the contour of your cheekbones as he digs in his nails into the rake of your skin; cutting, mangling, butchering, dismembering, and lacerating your body as if it were a doll made to be withered—mutilating until what remains were cadaver. oh, you were just beyond adorable, weren't you? how can he not be a little mean to you when you were so endearing like this? the sight of you like this overwhelms him with desire, oh, how he craved to tear you apart, to bite and scratch your neck until leisons form and crimson seeps, to claw his way through your dermis until you scream in agony, blood staining his fingertips; a sight only he, himeslf could witness and he would make sure of that.

𖦁‎ he promises to be kind, to be gentle as he bashes your legs in, but he just couldn't help it! oh, but it's fine, isn't it? it's not like you were gonna crumble away from it all eternally! so he doesn't understand. why must you rebel against him? can't you see that he was doing this in an overwhelming exasperation of love for you? or was it because it was painful? oh, no it wasn't! you're just overreacting. it doesn't hurt. don't get him mistaken! he adores watching you struggle, takes fulfillment seeing you defiant even but when you manage to escape his grasp? oh, that is when his anger escalates.

𖦁 he's sorry, so so sorry! really, he's sorry, he won't kill you anymore, he promises! just don't leave from his sight ever again, in soft murmurs and thinly veiled bitter words he would whisper, tracing his bloodied fingers against the curve of your jaw, kissing away your vulgar defiance as he holds your body as stiff as a clay, unmoving and unresponsive, eyes unfocused.

a/n: not quite proud of this one, i hope it's fine, however! i do think this one is much more darker than my previous work but then again, it's a yandere work so it's probably alright.

[celuere]

it‘s happening again.

pairing: ex!arlecchino x fem!reader

context: you just can‘t seem to get over her.

cw: modern au, desperate sesbian lex, rough sex, fingering, strap on,  unhealthy relationship, arle is very bad at feelings, hurt no comfort

word count: 900

art credits: bad thinking diary

got this idea while listening to right here from chase atlantic, i can‘t explain why it fits modern ex arle so well.

hot.

you felt so incredibly hot.

she was burning you from inside with each skilled curl of her fingers sending sparks of ecstasy down your spine. your skin seemingly boiling with how her lips made sure to leave no spot untouched.

you promised yourself to not let this happen again. to not fall back into her net each and every time fate forces you to cross paths again. whether it be at a birthday party of your mutual friends, the gym you both frequent or your local bar. it always ended with your naked bodies entangled with each other. you were the fuel to her fire just like you were drawn to her flame like a moth in the darkest voids of your heart. starved. starved of her. of her touch, her scent, her voice, her very presence. every single fiber in your body was screaming for her. craving her. you could never deny yourself a night with her, even though you already know what will be awaiting you the next morning. 

your attempts to form a single sentence between the breathy moans and whines falling over your lips were immediately cut off by her mouth. plunging her tongue into yours to avoid any kind of confrontation, your teeth clashing together in the instance.

she should know better than this. than letting you get close to her heart again. but it was you. her heart. the bane of her existence. but in her mind she just wasn‘t good enough for you. never will be. she doesn‘t deserve waiting for you at the altar one day, to promise herself to you for the rest of her life. you were the only good thing that life brought her and she didn‘t trust that.

the arch of your back into her while she felt you clenching around your fingers were enough indicator of your orgasm. she would usually stop herself here. however couldn‘t bring herself to. the way your fingers ran through her silky hair, that pleading look she could still make out in the darkness of your bedroom. pleading for her to stay.

in a moment of weakness she flipped you around on your stomach, she had to get you out of her system once and for all.

„a-arle…“

„quiet.“, the sound of a drawer being pulled open followed by the rustling of leather caused your core to slowly melt. you knew what‘s next.

„ass up.“, you hated how much of an effect that sharp tone had on you. causing your already puffy clit to ache at the bare thought. it wasn‘t fair.

feeling the weight of your mattress sink behind you before a pair of tattooed fingers snaked around your hips and pulled you back against her. a whimper so soft and desperate fell out of your mouth as she lubed up the silicone by rubbing the shaft through your slick folds. the sight of your bare ass presented to her, waiting to be plowed into gnawed at her already declining self restraint. 

she was gentle and rough at the same time. robbing you of your last bit of dignity with each drive of her hips into yours, a strong contradict to how tender her hand ran along the length of your spine. 

truth be told, arlecchino was happy she didn‘t have to look at your pleasured face right now. how full of love your eyes still were for her. as if she was somehow deserving of it. it angered her how you couldn‘t see it. how you deserved better than this mess of a person she is. she wants to hand you the world on a silver platter but she can‘t. and she hated it.

she hated herself for being everything you crave yet not what you truly needed.

the sound of your pleading voice bounced off the tense bedroom air, „a-arle, can we- mh-!“, your sounds now coming out muffled as a strong hand pushes your head down into the pillow, her pace turning almost feral.

„can we talk?“

you knew it was a foolish question and you felt beyond humiliated for even trying in the first place. just like it‘s foolish of you to have kept some of her clothes to yourself when she moved out. or how her toothbrush is still sitting in the same glass as yours. or how you refuse to throw away the shared photos of you.

or how you planned on proposing to her.

she was the future you wanted but never got. a flower that was just about to bloom but was stomped down before it had the chance to.

arlecchino was everything you needed yet nothing you owned.

were you crying out of pleasure or heartbreak? you didn’t even know the answer yourself. your fluids soaking the sheets underneath you just like your tears were staining the pillow now. but you‘d cry even more if she stopped now and you felt even more pathetic for it. 

but nothing compared to the emptiness filling up your heart when you woke up in your bed the next day. alone. in a cold bed. with nothing but the soft ticks of the clock thats hanging on the wall filling the room as you stared at the open chat on your phone.

„can we please talk?“

delivered.

[gatheringbones]

[“In the dungeon, the dominatrix was a paragon of high-femme adornment, training submissive men in the supposedly organic wisdom of her gender. In reality, I was trying on this kind of glamour and ultrafemininity for the first time.

Two things helped me to fall in love with mani-pedis and skin creams and click-clacking around in dramatically slanted stilettos in my 20s, despite rejecting these sartorial amusments growing up. One was that I was making cash money to do it, which was much more motivating than the Seventeen magazines and peer pressures of my adolescence. Second, I was surrounded by beautiful naked women encouraging me to develop my own style. Most of my colleagues were much more experienced with makeup, hair, lingerie, jewelry, heels, nails, lotion, and perfume, much more confident in products, styling, shapes, and colors than I was. Some of them were sweetly excited about my ineptitude, eagerly turning me into a doll they could experiment on. I smelled the sizzle of flat irons as they tugged at my hair from behind, I squeezed eyelash glue nervously along the rinds of falsies as they timed me, I sat on the cold linoleum and snapped their garters into place every day for weeks until I could do it with my eyes closed. As their hands and tools stroked my body, conditioning me in more ways than one, I felt an ASMR buzz all over. If I felt objectified, it was as an exalted precious object, like a car being tuned up under my hood, my exteriors waxed until I shined.

A colleague turned to me out of the blue one day, snapping, “What is your skin care routine?” When I sheepishly replied that I had none, she marched me into the bathroom, sternly showing me how to cleanse, moisturize, and always wear sunscreen. I have done this every single day since. That’s all it took for me to learn to care for myself in this way. A little feminine superiority.

If this sounds familiar, it should. Despite being assigned female at birth, I was just as enchanted as any dude could have been by confident pros guiding me into a realm of prettiness, and I needed every bit as much coaching. I would get femme trained by my colleagues, and minutes later I would lead clients into session rooms and train them to be femme too.

I’m hardly the first person to observe that drag is drag no matter your resting gender, your genitals, your orientation, your motivation. Not to put too fine a point on it, but most sex workers know we are drag artists. Much in the same way that pro wrestlers exaggerate their own masculinity, the dominatrix is a femme maximalist entertainer. The fact that a cis woman can feel like a drag queen speaks to the performative nature of gender expression, of both drag as an art and cross-dressing as a fetish. By and large, my cross-dressing clients didn’t want to be women. They wanted to be bimbos! They embodied their own ideas of insatiable sluts and campy cartoons. Maximalist girls, exaggerated girls, megawatt girls. They wanted satin corsets, jewel tones, iridescent glitter, fishnets, freesia body spray. They spoke like Betty Boop and did their best to stiffly dance along to Prince songs. They saw this glamour as sparkling dynamite to bust them out of the prison of their toxic masculinity, even if just for a few hours, even if only superficially.

I didn’t find these fantasies a reminder of the awful pressures of girliness I had initially rejected; gender-bending in the dungeon showed me that I had been positioned to see femme all wrong. The bimbo is an archetype, a shimmering human invention waiting to be embodied by anyone who cares to summon her. It’s the choice to play with gender as an adult, as opposed to a lifetime of imposed messaging about what kind of gender you can and can’t be, that generates the erotic pleasures of cross-dressing.

I enjoyed being bullied into girliness by my fellow pro-dommes, so I empathized with our clients, regardless of the gender trajectory that led us to femme power play. All of the qualities that we expressed as feminine—from soft clothes to luscious scents to sucking cock—had belonged to all of us the whole time. I get why a cis dominatrix wouldn’t want to participate in forced feminization. I also get why many trans people, trans women in particular, find the existence of transvestitism to be so painful. When you have to fight so hard every day for the fundamental dignity and civil rights of your gender, it can be agonizing to see someone treat that gender as frivolous. Cross-dressing clients were often annoyingly reductive, like young adults on rumspringa, gorging themselves on the sugar high of femininity after being denied it for so long. It was clear to me that some of these fetishists liked cross-dressing sessions because it happened to be the variation on humiliation that their submissive tendencies had alighted on, emasculation being one of a hundred ways of having your social status lowered by a dominatrix. Others would have liked to wear dresses and bubblegum-flavored lip gloss more often, including in situations where they weren’t necessarily aroused. Still others weren’t actually cross-dressers at all, but closeted or crypto-transgender women. The kinky space was the only one they knew where they could be themselves using what they saw as a safe, private, and limited method. Some of them would transition eventually, and some would keep that part of themselves compartmentalized their entire lives. All three of these categories of person deserve the space to explore their gender expression through erotic fantasy.

Some cross-dressing fetishists are cis. Some trans women are butch. Some drag artists are straight. There’s no one way to do or be any of these things, and while we can experiment with identity through art and erotics, we shouldn’t conflate persona with personhood. Most importantly, trans people of all kinds deserve an existence that is both sexually liberated and not constantly sexualized. I would love to report that we have reached the point in the gender revolution where cross-dressing is redundant because there is nothing to cross. But erotics are still a viable way for us to explore who we really are, or would like to be.”]

tina horn, from why are people into that? a cultural investigation of kink, 2024

[samuraiwife]

七海健人

Nanami Kento

pairing: husband! nanami kento x wife! reader

Nanami is literally addicted to your nipples. Your swollen nipples are what makes him incredibly satisfied. It's as if this is the part he fulfils as your husband. Everyone knows that Nanami is a very family orientated person who has “almost” conservative views (as long as they meet your needs, of course). A man goes to work, brings home money and satisfies his wife. And the woman, on the other hand, she... God, for him, she has already done everything that is necessary and not necessary.

The fire that will always warm his cold body. The light that will break through the darkness in his eyes. The future he so deserves. A family.

He really wants to have a family with you. Like in those propaganda flyers about a large family. A man who can support and love his family. A beautiful wife who is the joy and support of her husband. And children who bathe in this idyll. So seeing you with your round tummy and swollen breasts full of mother's milk was a blessing in disguise for him. Even before you were pregnant, he never left your breasts alone. He always paid the most attention to them during your lovemaking. He lightly bit them, leaving beautiful specks that looked like pink rose petals. He licked them and then breathed his warm breath on them, making them lightly tickle. It was as if he was trying to smell the combination of his saliva and your future milk (which will feed your children in the future, just the thought of it made him cum). And his favourite cherry on top was your nipples. He would bite, pulled in by the cheek, gnaw, tickle the pink bead with the tip of his tongue, lick, suck, pinch, squeeze with his lips, pull. The redder and more swollen they became, the more lustful his gaze became. He couldn't stop himself.

“Mhh...mhh...Ken...please...stop, it's really hard for me down there” - you moaned when your husband had been playing (eating) with your breasts for 20 minutes.

“Now, darling, just give me one more minute, please”-again, like five minutes ago, Nanami repeated his line like a broken record.

“Gods, they are beautiful”,- Kento whispered in a hazy voice, pinching your nipple between two fingers. You could already tell that cumming on your flushed breasts was the greatest pleasure of his life.

“Yes, that's it, this is where it belongs”

He will make sure to check if your nipples are still sensitive and swollen the next morning and throughout the day. For example, in the morning when you put a cup of coffee on the table for him. With a completely casual face, he will pull back the fabric of your robe, run his fingertips over them, feel the softness of your buds, and He will return to breakfast. You may reproach him for such tactless, behaviour, but he will simply reply that he was only checking something that should always be there. He'll also ask you to send him photos of your breasts during his work shift. And don't even think about sending him a repeated old photo, he won't fall for it and will reveal your ridiculous trick in a second. You will have a serious conversation at home. Of course, he has a folder on his phone where he stores all the photos you send him of this kind.

Also, Nanami could never imagine that your breasts could ever get even more beautiful than they are (you're already perfect for him). But, oh gods, something happens to him, when he sees your breast milk-enlarged boobs for the first time. Short circuit and white noise.

He starts buying you the most vulgar bras. Even if he thought some of them were ridiculous and absurd, on your breast they are a work of art. Lying on your breast has doubled in pleasure. Now, during sex, his head is bent almost only over your breast. Watching them sway so smoothly and stay soft, no matter how hard he tried to drive his soul into yours.

“Please, Ken-too, this is too much,”- you whimpered, out of hyperstimulation and incredible sensitivity. You've been bent in a not-so-romantic marriage press. Kento grinds his cock against your soaked walls. You can feel the mixture of your substances sliding down your flushed thighs, and Nanami's balls are beating against them in an ungentle manner. But Kento's hands are not on your hips, but on your soft, firm, sweat-shiny tits. It's a beautiful sight for him. Your reddened, swollen nipples with incredibly sensitive beads from which, under the pressure of his rough hand, a thin trickle of your milk flows out. Fuck, he's getting even harder. He licks off this small amount of substance and starts to literally milk you with his mouth. You try to tear his head away from you, but he doesn't care now, at this moment, you are giving him a real reason to exist.

“Oh, no, no, darling, you have to take care of your tired husband, so feed him like the good hostess you are,”- Nanami replies, as if he were a dog in heat. He takes your nipples in his mouth again and pulls your cheeks in.

“Fuck, darling, you're a fucking goddess, a goddess of prosperity, my goddess, my goddess, my woman....mgh”- the shameless slurps that fly from his lips are mixed with even more obscene sounds of your hips hitting,

“Kento....Kent...if you keep going like this...ah... there will be nothing left for the child.. ah!”- you try to enlighten his mind, whimpering in frustration. In response to your request, you only hear a dark, mocking snort.

“Is my wife going to run out of milk? Pfft, don't be ridiculous. My wife is too kind to let her children starve, is that right?”- he pinched your bead with a sarcastic smile, squeezing a squeaky moan out of you.- “I'm asking again, is that right?”

The only thing you can do is meow meaninglessly and try to remember how to breathe.

“Yes, yes, yes, I will, will, uhh... eh, yes.. yes... Will be good wife.... yours, ahh”

Kento took your chin firmly and hissed directly into your lips: “More precisely”

“Your pretty mommy~”

And it's the fucking truth

[castleskies]

what is grief, but love persevering?

Or, gods are slain, and with the Veil fixed – other things come to a close.

ft. Rook & Varric Tethras, and a side of Rook/Lucanis Dellamorte

what you need to know going into this fic:

yeah Solas and the Inquisitor are in the fade

yeah we romanced Lucanis!

yeah Rook is an Antiva Crow, Bane of Viago de Riva's life (affectionate)

what you also need to know:

it's been a hot minute since I've written anything

first person only because I am trying to find voices!!! we experiment (create art from curiosity not fear etc)

anyway enjoy I hope you have a good day

The Veil shimmers as it mends itself – the fractures glowing like a star, winking out as they close. I watch the familiar shape of the elf who is not a god step through the light. I've been here before. I've seen this before.

I remember the last time, and something in my chest hurts at the thought; at the loss, reminded the way a tongue often traces the gap of a lost tooth.

A gloved hand finds mine. The leather's sticky with things we don't name; but it's presence is effective. He is holding on to me with such ferocity. He is the only reason I don't fall apart.

"Rook?"

I hear it – the way the voices blend together: his, and Spite's, a moment in unison when they'd spent more time at odds than in harmony. I hear it – the uncertainty, a look which sits strange on the features of a master assassin.

"Contract completed," I say, with the same cadence Viago had offered the Antivan Crows' support. I mean it to come out with confidence, emulating Viago's smirk – but it cracks mid-syllable, a warble that sticks in my throat.

Lucanis says nothing. Instead, he pulls me in and hides my face against his neck. Over his shoulder, the last remnants of the Veil shine; there, in the distance, a hazy figure raises a hand to bid goodbye.

I'd recognise that smile anywhere.

Told you you didn't need luck.

Around me, the sounds of cheering filter through the streets of Minrathous as the sun rises.

I wrap my arms around Lucanis, and finally close my eyes.

[soli-floris]

!!!!!!!! omg this is so fun i love this?! tytytyyy for tagging meeee @unluckywisher @deepspacenova !!!! (and @reilemon i saw your post and the tag on my other blog omg hi its roxie 😭😭😭😭) ILY GUYS MWAH 🥺💖

i actually have No Idea who's been tagged already but HM,,,,, no pressure tags @mochibunnies3 @love-and-deepstrays @xavierbunbun @ourlittleuluru @aeyumicore !!

xavier — PLENTYYYYYYYY. surface-level things; we're both bunny coded/associated, have somewhat cuter/softer vibes generally, relatively introverted, are fond of literature and reading and pretty words, can play the piano, really like the peacefulness and quiet of staying home, can fall asleep and stay asleep Pretty Darn Easily (my mom has told me it's a gift 😭), and we both definitely can't cook to save our lives LMFAO. going a little deeper i'd say we both share the inherent trauma of trying to live up to expectations—i might not be royalty, but sometimes being an asian kid like that is just hard, you know? 😭✋ so on that note i think the both of us look forward to a cute not-super-obligational and quiet peaceful life......... i also like to think we show love primarily in the same way, bc i'm also very much a words of affirmation person both ways, and i feel like xavier definitely gives a lot of that <3

caleb — most striking similarity? chronic nightmares LMFAO 😭 i actually feel like i have the least amount of similarities with caleb? it's more like he balances me out, really 😭 (its very ironic to me considering our birthdays are one day apart LMFAO) but i guess i'd say we're both ambitious and academic achievers, and we both mask pretty well—a lot of people who don't know me personally (i.e. casual friends, acquaintances) are wayyyy way more familiar with the bubbly me, so it does help keep at arm's distance the people that i don't *want* to get to know me on a more personal level, and they usually have no idea of it HWJXNSBF i feel caleb's kind of the same on that front

zayne — also chonic nightmares, ambitious mindset, and the studious/academic achiever attitude! but also: perfectionism, tendency to rationalize, tendency to not talk very much irl (+outside of my work and existing relationships, i.e. to complete strangers, i've been told that i'm hard to approach 😭), family in the medical field (and there's been a time i was separated from my family and my parents worked abroad, so there's that), and i'd like to say arts and crafts too cause of the drawing and the lil jade thing zayne has done :3 also i feel like our views on love are pretty similar? his relationship with mc shows to be pretty steady and maturely handled (i'd argue he's been the most communicative), and he's always seemed ineherent on living presently and making sure the relationship is smoothsailing so that he can live presently with her? it's just the vibes i'm getting, which, to me, feels a lot like how i view "love" and my relationships with people in general. there's no moving forward if we can't address the current issue, you know?

so let's play another game

Tell something you have in common with your favorite (s) LI(s) then tag someone else

Me and Zayne are both lightweight. Y'all I can't drink alchohol to save my lips 🤚💀 without ending up tipsy just a glass of wine is enough to make my head spin .

Me and Rafayel are both dramatic but only with people we care about , I like to get on my friends and family's nerve (that how I show my love 😔)

@jinwoosbabyboo @yourlocalcatscammer @erensfeed

[aviradasa]

The lost boys main hcs

Marko

5th times the charm with trying to post this.tumblr hates me. This isn't proofread. Sorry it's short I'm tired as fuck and irritated. But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless 🖤

Marko is an only child, and he grew up without a father. His mother was a seamstress and worked out of their home when he was a child. His mother was Italian, and his father was Swedish. When Marko was born, they were already living in the united states though so Marko had never been to either country, and he had never met any of his other family members. his dad died when he was 8, so he hardly remembers him now. His mother, on the other hand, died on his 16th birthday, falling victim to the san Francisco plague in 1904. Which was an epidemic of the black plague. He had to abandon her in their home to avoid catching it himself. Taking the last of the money they had and the necklace his mother wore with a picture of their family in it. Not long after, he found the boys, and they all stuck together (as you can guess), but not until after he struggled around town by himself for a few months. God, i need to stop making this shit sad hand on switching gears. He was the youngest when the boys got turned into vamps he had only turned 18 that summer He really tries to act more mature than he is, but as soon as something funny happens, that's over. Marko has a really good sense of humor, but he finds a lot of really stupid shit funny. He's the type of dude to watch his friends fall face down ass up on concrete and start laughing and snapping a photo before asking if they are ok (he is me) This also can lean into how he does lowkey bully people on the boardwalk. Mostly surf nazis but let's be so deadass he's kind of a dick to everyone there in his own special way. Him and paul have a tendency to double team people to: like whoever they come at wont have a chance to say anything cause as soon as one of them pauses the other jumps in to just dog on the person who annoyed them. Some of his insults get pretty creative as well: so if he says something to you thats just out of pocket,like 85% of the time its one of the ones that makes you stop to think about it before you can even get offended 🤣 Strange enough, though. He is very well spoken and charismatic when you talk to him normally. When talking, you notice after a while that he's not one of those folks that cuss every other sentence. Like he will throw it in there like everyone does, but not all the time if you feel me Idk how to describe it. he still talks like a normal person and uses slang and stuff, but he is oddly classy vocabulary wise. He's got a slightly softer tone to his voice as well, which makes his way of speaking come off smoother. He's also extremely smart. Having conversations with him is never really dull or unpleasant. (Unless you're an unlucky boardwalk asshole) Marko is very imaginative and creative. He never stops coming up with things. He hoards hobbies like a dragon hoard gold. From painting to sewing to cooking to wood carving, He just knows how to do this stuff, and he loves it. You will never catch him doing nothing. Even when he's spaced out at the wall, the dude is fiddling with something or sewing. Something together, he just can't stop. He loves giving gifts to friends as well. All of the boys have gifts from Marko that he's made himself. Mostly cause he loves showing off he has skill and unlike Paul he doesn't care if people touch his stuff so he will drag you around his space handing you stuff and showing you everything he's made/ collected cause he's just so proud. Just don't break it. He will be fucking pissed if You break it. Or if you give away anything he gifted you. Also he will talk to you about this stuff for hours on end if you let him (Do let him. He will love you for life if you show Intrests in the things he likes) his space is really cluttered. But looking around, it's mostly albums,art, fabric,patches, and various random objects.

other then that he's really clean. On that note He does not like getting covered in blood when he eats just sayin. He's like the least messy eater of the group mainly cause he hates getting it on his jacket. Plus the texture of dried blood on him makes him want to rip his skin off. It's just one of those things he can't stand So he makes sure to clean up fast. That doesn't mean he doesn't like toying with victims though he's a jumpscare master. He likes to scare his victims half to death before beating the shit outta them. He jokes that hes “tenderizing The meat”. When he does this He gets a kick outta that one. Oh he also likes music, he's not like overly into it though He likes alot of different types as well. Some of his favorite generas are Rock,goth,classical, and some 30s jazz strange enough. He does not give a DAMN what the others have to say about his music taste. if He wants to play his music it will be loud and proud. If they don't like it they are free To take it up with him. (They never will)

[aainiouu]

Mama I’m in love with a dude in my gym

After the fire truck accident and multiple let downs by his body, Maddie has to fight tooth and nail to get Buck go to physiotherapy.

She tries and tries to find one who Buck likes enough to stick to it. He knows Buck needs someone he can feel comfortable with. (She’s heard some murmurings about a therapist and it going horribly wrong, but she has not asked around too much and like Buck is clearly depressed about his current situation so it hasn’t been easy.) Then Maddie finds a miracle, Eddie, who himself is a former firefighter and someone who understands the demands of the job and Buck can relate to.

It’s not much but Buck promises to meet with Eddie and Maddie feels hopeful for the first time in weeks.

—

Buck isn’t really sure why Maddie thinks that this physiotherapist is going to be any different than the other ones. But he doesn’t want to disappoint Maddia so he packs himself to go to the gym, limps through the foyer and is greeted with a gym full of people. The only thing missing is his elusive trainer and the locker room. He feels stupid just standing there, balancing with his bag and his cane trying to find a place where he can change and get ready.

He almost gives up until he sees another gym goer go through a door with bags and he limps after this person figuring out that that is where the locker rooms must be.

He balances his stuff on his arm and reaches for the door, only to find it stuck. He pushes and pushes and when it finally budges he realizes he made a horrible mistake. The heavy door yanks all of his mass and frame after it and with his bad leg his balance is compromised so he falls after it, hits his head on the door and accidentally puts his weight on his bad leg. Tears spring into his eyes from the pain and when he lifts his gaze the view in front of him makes him sweat.

The door opened into a gym, another gym, a martial arts gym, currently full of people smacking, pummeling and kicking each other. Buck also realizes that he has gotten the attention of a pair of very nice amused and little concerned blue eyes with his fumbling.

Attached to a very gorgeous man standing closest to him. A VERY gorgeous man.

Buck blushes, mumbles, and limps away from the door, towards another one with big bold lettering “Locker room - Men” reading on it. He feels the eyes following him on the back of his neck. The humiliation is almost too much to bear, he didn’t want to come here in the first place and now his leg hurts more than it did when Buck left home. He promised Maddie he would try, but he’s never coming back here. He feels pathetic, he made an bumbling ass out of himself in front of everyone, as per usual.

—

After his session with Eddie Buck has to reluctantly admit that he might have to come back. Eddie didn’t coddle him or pity him and he made Buck do the work. But. But Buck might have to, the humiliation still fresh in his mind, ask Eddie if he would be okay on going to a gym nearer Buck’s apartment for their sessions.

But. But then he sees Eddie talking to that sweaty, gorgeous eyes (and ass) having beast of a man Buck humiliated himself in front of about a training session. And the man turns, looks at Buck, smiles and suddenly coming back to this gym doesn’t sound like such a bad idea. And his knee feels wobbly, the good knee.

[zahri-melitor]

Hi! Do you have any recommendations for Black Canary stories? Been wanting to learn more about her and I'm not sure where to start/what's assured to be worthwhile.

Hah! I do have Black Canary recommendations, but they also come with a lot of asterisks. Loving Dinah is one of those situations where you spend a lot of time going 'UNFORTUNATELY'.

Where do you want to start?

If you want a story highly focused on Dinah herself?

If you want something you can pick up and fall in love with her without needing context (Dinah has SO much context), get yourself to Black Canary and Zatanna: Bloodspell. It’s probably the only title with ‘Black Canary’ in the name that I can recommend unequivocally without any asterisks.

Personally I have a massive soft spot for Black Canary 1993 (this is vol 2), which vibeswise has Ollie being terrible, Ray’s hopeless crush on Dinah, the first ever Dinah-Babs-Dick-Helena team up and some really fun art design. Unfortunately, it is incredibly written in the early 1990s and so needs warnings for, among other things “this contains a white slavery storyline”.

I do recommend Black Canary: The Best of the Best. Tom King’s doing pretty well at explaining context for everything happening in this story.

If you’re interested in Dinah with Ollie?

Start Grell’s run on Green Arrow at The Longbow Hunters and go from there into Green Arrow 1987. This is probably the most classic period of their relationship that everyone later will reflect back onto. I will however flag that Dinah gets assaulted, badly, during this run, and the fallout focuses far more on the effect that has on Ollie than Dinah herself.

Read Quiver (Green Arrow #1-12 2001) if you want to understand Dinah’s reaction to Ollie’s resurrection.

Go from the Wedding Planner and Wedding Specials 2007 and then read Green Arrow/Black Canary 2007 for at least Winick’s run (#1-14). A lot of people don’t like this run because of what it does to Connor, but if you are down for Dinah and Ollie shenanigans and silliness and banter, I find it highly entertaining.

If you want Dinah and Barbara together?

Start with Dixon’s run on Birds of Prey (the first oneshot is officially entitled “Birds of Prey: Black Canary/Oracle #1”, or just go for Birds of Prey #1 1999) if you want more James Bond missions where Dinah is Bond and Babs is her controller

Start with Simone’s run on Birds of Prey 1999 (it starts at #56) if you prefer Dinah leading a spec ops team for Barbara with a lot of complicated women having complicated friendships.

Dinah with Roy and Lian?

Arsenal 1998. It’s only four issues and it’s just delightful characterisation of the three of them together.

If you want a current run (and don’t want to risk Tom King until the run finishes)?

If you want to read current stories, I would suggest the Birds of Prey 2023 run with Kelly Thompson is probably a slightly better starting point for Dinah than the Green Arrow 2023 run with Joshua Williamson, but you’ll get the gist of Dinah’s two biggest relationships (with Ollie and with Babs) from checking out both.

If you want Dinah’s backstory?

The DC YA graphic novel, Black Canary: Ignite, is reasonably solid in terms of giving context to Dinah Sr, Larry Lance and Dinah Jr relationships with each other. It’s not canonical and it very much picks up the vibes of Black Canary 2014, but it’s probably the best early years version of Dinah that’s been written so far. And again, it’s conveniently stand alone.

Otherwise, some general advice:

Dinah in Green Arrow books tends to be very much playing second fiddle to Ollie

I wish I could recommend more of the Black Canary runs, but 1991 is slight and mostly Dinah being pissed at Ollie, 2007 was used as an excuse to write Dinah’s supporting characters out of the narrative in favour of Ollie’s, and 2014 has striking art but is a version of Dinah that not only has very little to do with other appearances, but gets retconned at the end of the run.

Dinah’s got solid runs in various Justice League books and the JSA revival in 1999, if you want her in bigger team books

[flowerbloom-arts]

Hey dude um I don’t want to like sound really weird or anything but honest to god your stupid silly simpsons stuff actually fills me with so much hope and joy for the future. Like I’m queerio bobeerio and your trans Hutz/Nick stuff even (though I personally don’t ship it lmao) and unapologetic queer/Autistic/whatever headcannons are just so awesome and fun and explore the subjects from the perspective of these characters in such a real yet lighthearted way that I simply must commend you for. Sorry I’m just like feeling super emotional and sappy rn bc it seems like the world is falling down around me in the United States but I just wanna say that no matter what art you create or characters you wanna play with— Simpsons or otherwise— never stop being unashamedly cringe and fun because it really is a beacon of hope to some of us out there.

Sorry you don’t have to like publicly respond to this I just thought you should hear it. Have a lovely day.

I'm so so glad that my art is having that effect!!

If I'm being completely honest, even though I'm not American, the stuff going on in the US is seriously bumming me out due to the possible international political implications but this silly little 3 and a half decade long American show has been a source of alot of silly joy for me for half a year now which is crazy for me to think about right now since I barely knew anything about the characters besides memes and second-hand trivia videos up until then lmao. The world feels like it's coming apart at the seams but these little yellow guys stay unapologetically silly and queer and neurodivergent through it all.

I actually joked a while ago that we should be like Seymour going into the horrors this year will bring because no matter what nightmarish life circumstances he's going through he always manages to find simple joys in silly little things like cereal box mazes and bad musical movies from the 60s to keep putting that dumb sweet smile on his face. And honestly I still kinda stand by that. No matter what life throws at us we have to be cringe and full of whimsy to keep going, just like the flop, cringefail middle-aged guy 👍

[greykolla-art]

💕Can you even CONCEIVE how much I suddenly love them???💕

I think they were strolling around town after having a drink together. And that ends in a little cuddle!😂💕💕💕

Dialogue from The Aristocats, of course.💗💗💗

[kolumander]

i want to get into oil painting

[onewhoturns]

I was thinking through what else I’m looking forward to this holiday season and I realized I haven’t mentioned it on here, just on discord, but— MY MOMS BEEN MAKING ME A REALLY COOL ART THING??

I think I’ve talked about it before, but my mom has been a quilter for most of my life and in the last few years started doing these really cool fabric collages, and it was my turn to request one so I asked for a phoenix cause I’m obsessed with this one art piece I did in art therapy ages ago

Anyway, my mom has been working on it and THIS was the last update I got???

I’m so excited for it?? Can’t wait to see where it’s at by the time I get there this weekend

[synthsays]

@abyssalzones I really liked the magazine clips you did so here's my rendition of The Parallels being fruity as ever lol

Page inspiration under cut