#keep the magic that was always in the flag

[keepyourpantsongohan]

I have a Venn Diagram to share

[breelandwalker]

You seem like you're more familiar with the broader occult community than my scholarly shut in ass. I'm curious. If there were a few lessons you wish you could drill into the head of every prominent social media occultist, what would they be?

Ohhh the number one thing I wish I could drill into the head of every aspiring occultist and magical practitioner is that CRITICAL THINKING IS YOUR FRIEND.

Study magic but keep fact-checking! If there's a claim in a book on witchcraft that should be able to be backed up by mundane sources, look for those sources. If they're not cited in the book, that's a red flag. If the sources you do find don't support the claim, that's another, bigger red flag. This is especially true with claims about history, science, medicine, psychology, anthropology, and religion.

Also, be wary of anything New Age. There's a pipeline to anti-science, eugenics, and racism there that runs directly through portions of the modern pagan and witchcraft communities and it's brightly painted with New Age buzzwords.

If something seems too good to be true, it probably is. If something seems geared to appeal to your emotions, especially that which seems formulated to make you feel special or "chosen" or to fire up some kind of righteous anger or feelings of superiority, you should immediately be suspicious of it.

If a source tells you to disregard science, modern medicine, or recorded history, or tries to tell you that some people are inherently more special or magical or deserving of power than others, discard it immediately. That is a bad source.

Don't believe everything you see or hear online. Too many witches roll their eyes at their parents and grandparents believing everything they read on Facebook, then turn around and insist that everything they've seen on TikTok or Tumblr or YouTube is Absolute Truth.

Believing in and studying magic does not mean that common sense goes out the window. You should be supplementing your magical studies with parallel practical topics (i.e. botany, geology, chemistry, mythology, etc) and ALWAYS keep one foot squarely planted on the ground.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Hurt V

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Morsa's operation

Morsa has to have surgery on her foot because she hurt it really, really bad. Bad enough that she's out of the team while she recovers. Bad enough that you have to visit her in hospital.

Momma takes you into her room when Morsa wakes up from her surgery sleep.

"Morsa," You say," You've got Sweden on your foot."

On her bandaged foot is the Swedish flag. You recognise it because Morsa tried to make you learn it before you learnt the Danish one. She failed at that second bit but she did make sure you learnt the flag.

"Yeah," She says," I do have Sweden on my foot."

"Is Sweden making your foot better?"

Morsa laughs a little while Momma puts you up on her bed. "It is."

"You should take a picture," You tell her," So the team can know Sweden's making you better."

"Alright, princesse. I'll take a picture for the girls."

You make sure Morsa takes a lot of pictures to show both the Bayern girls and the Sweden girls so they know she's okay.

The doctors keep coming in all day to check on Morsa and her Sweden foot and you get to watch Morsa get poked and prodded before being taken home by Momma.

Morsa's got to stay in the hospital for another day to check that her Sweden foot isn't going to fall off or anything but she's welcome to come home the next day.

She comes home on crutches, hobbling up the front doorstep before practically melting into the sofa. You bring her a drink and she captures you quickly, tugging you onto the sofa with her before crushing you into a hug.

"Morsa!" You shriek as ticklish kisses attack your face," Stop it!"

"Hey, now," Magda laughs," Don't kick out. I'm injured, remember? You don't want to hurt me more."

"You're doing this on purpose!" You tell her as one of her hands winds around your legs so all you can do is wiggle your body.

"Doing what on purpose? Giving love to my favourite girl?"

"Make Momma your favourite!" You tell her but she doesn't listen, dropping more kisses all over your face as you try to escape.

"Magda," Pernille says reproachfully as she returns from the kitchen," You're still injured. Take it easy."

"I am taking it easy," Magda replies whilst standing and dangling you upside down by your ankles.

"Magda," Pernille says again," Holding our child hostage is not taking it easy."

"I beg to disagree."

"Magda, I mean it. Sit down."

Magda sits down, releasing you as she does so and you hurry off to your toy corner and beanbag chair to catch your breath.

"Have you still got Sweden on your foot?"

Magda pulls off her sock to triumphantly show her Sweden bandage. "I do still have Sweden on my foot!"

"You should put Denmark on your foot."

The grin on Magda's face drops as she stares at you, mouth hanging open. "What?"

"You should put Denmark on your foot," You repeat," Because Momma's from Denmark and she always makes me feel better when I have ouchies."

"Princesse," Magda says," I can't just change it to Denmark. That's like...treason or something."

"Why's it treason?"

"Because...er...Because..."

"Because your Morsa is very silly and takes a rivalry a bit too seriously even at home," Pernille explains to you.

"Oh," You say, nodding in understanding before turning back to Magda," You're very silly, Morsa and you really should put Denmark on your foot because then Momma's Denmark magic can help you."

Magda still looks stricken and Pernille forces herself to cough to cover her laugh.

"That's a very good idea," She says," We've got to change Morsa's bandage anyway. I managed to buy a red bandage. Can you get some of the medical tape?"

"Is it in the ouchy bag?"

"Yep, in the bathroom."

You scamper off and Magda gives Pernille the biggest, wettest puppy eyes she can manage.

It doesn't quite work the same way as when you're doing it.

"Pernille," She says," Please?"

"I don't know. Maybe my fancy Denmark magic will help," Pernille teases just as you come back in with the white medical tape.

"We're making the Denmark flag," You tell Magda as Pernille unwinds the bandage," So you can get better soon."

Magda forces herself not to grind her teeth in annoyance and smile at you instead. "Thank you, princesse."

[pickingupmymercedes]

She's here and she's not only ours - Lewis Hamilton

Sequel to She's here and she's ours. Bit of angst, lots of fluff.

pairing: Dad!Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

wordcount: +1k

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

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Navigating the journey from being a couple to becoming a family is often likened to entering a whole new world—one filled with unpredictable challenges and profound joys. The radiant 7-month-old girl had effortlessly woven herself into the fabric of your lives, captivating not only you and Lewis but everyone who crossed her path. Yet, adjusting to new routines, shifting priorities, managing emotional and physical changes, and, most crucially, cultivating a deep bond with your child were aspects of parenthood that no book, class, or well-meaning advice had adequately prepared you for.

And so, the real test of parenthood often lay in learning to prioritize.

“Oh my God, she’s growing up so quickly!” Susie exclaimed, her eyes lighting up as she entered the living area of your apartment, making a beeline for the giggling toddler seated in her bumbo seat on the kitchen island.

“Please, don’t remind me. Time is flying by too fast already,” you replied, your smile widening as you watched your baby recognize Susie and reach out to be scooped up.

“I’m sorry for dropping by unannounced… I just... I had to know why,” Susie said, her expression curious and concerned.

You had expected people to comment and be surprised, but you hadn’t anticipated the attention coming so soon, even before you and Lewis had a chance to share your news.

“So, I take it everyone at Mercedes already knows?”

“More like everyone on the paddock, probably,” Susie confirmed.

“Do you remember her first few days? When she struggled to gain weight and every day felt like a battle?”

The first inkling that something was amiss came mere hours after you had returned home with your newborn daughter. Her incessant cries and insatiable hunger, even after an hour of breastfeeding, had raised red flags.

You had been warned that the initial days would be challenging—that you were now solely responsible for nourishing a tiny human. So, you soldiered on, suppressing your growing panic and tears, dreading the 40-minute feeding intervals where you’d bite your tongue and cheeks to keep from crying.

You tried every trick in the book—increasing your water intake, warm and cold compresses, dietary changes, pumping between feeds, consulting lactation specialists, and even consuming magic lactation cookies. Yet, your milk supply remained stubbornly low.

The sense of failure weighed heavily on you; your primary role was to nurture your baby, something you had done successfully during pregnancy. Instead of relishing the joys of new motherhood, you felt like a failure, a lesser mother to your daughter and a villain to your husband's fairytale of having kids.

Lewis was acutely aware of your distress and tried to be supportive. Despite knowing, as doctors and specialists had advised, that you needed to supplement with formula for both your daughter’s and your own well-being, he refrained from pressuring you. Every night he would feel as though you were punching him in the face when you went out of his sight to cry, or how his chest would tighten when he carried your screaming daughter in his arms, knowing she needed more, from him and from you. Still, he didn’t have in him to lecture you, yet again, on how that little girl needed more, not when you were giving your life and sanity away for her.

It wasn’t until the day before her second week checkup that you broke down. You knew the scale wasn’t going to give her much more grams than she had the past week, way less than she deserved and the added burden that he would be going for his first race of the season in a couple days had you reaching your breaking point.

Seeing Lewis on the sofa, looking worried and worn-out, you collapsed in front of him, letting your tears flow freely. He held you, comforting you with gentle whispers, and you both agreed that transitioning to formula was for the best. Despite the months of hearing about the benefits of breastfeeding, you had come to understand that sometimes the most challenging part of parenthood was knowing when to stand your ground and make the best choice for your family.

“We don’t want his job to feel like a burden every weekend,” you said.

“So, the Hamiltons will be a staple in the paddocks?” Susie asked, her approving smile revealing her pride.

“Life doesn’t always go as planned, does it?” You shrugged

“The media is going to love that smile,” Susie cooed, her attention directed at the toothy grin of your daughter.

“Yeah… She won’t be only ours, but Lewis needs her as much as she needs him. I guess it’s a small price to pay,” you replied, smiling at your yawning daughter in Susie’s lap, her little hands rubbing her eyes—a clear sign that her naptime was due.

“Please, let me. She still loves Disney songs, right?” Susie absentmindedly asked, already heading towards your daughter’s room, laying the toddler on her cheast and ready to lull her to sleep with a familiar melody. As you watched, you couldn’t help but marvel at how your daughter had already captured so many hearts at such a young age.

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TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk

If you'd like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

[multific]

Pink Flags

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Warnings: smut, unplanned pregnancy, angst

Summary: After a night of passion, you face Simon with the consequences, however, his reaction is far worse than you could have ever imagined.

You were always good at what you were doing.

Comically good. The way to take down terrorists was like a dance. A melody you create by murdering them.

What you weren't so good at were feelings. Especially your own.

No matter how tangled up you got with them, you always found a way out.

You promised you won't become attached to anyone. Attachments are dangerous.

But you did find yourself entangled with your LT.

Which wasn't good.

You knew it was unprofessional but the moment his lips hit that sensitive spot on your neck, you lost all sense and only came back to it the next morning.

When once again, you lost all senses when you felt his bulge rub against your ass. It was all a mess.

You should have seen the red flags. But you chose to ignore them all.

Simon Riley for one was a huge red flag.

The entire man was a secret and you loved it. It was so exciting and interesting for you.

You knew Simon wasn't the relationship type of guy so you knew what to expect. You were ready for rejection at any given time.

But of course, it never came.

Not once did he reject anything you did, ask or told him to do.

Not even on the battlefield.

Simon knew you were talented so why would he question it? But now, now he had a question, a question he was afraid to get an answer to.

"What did you just say?"

"I'm pregnant."

Simon saw many terrible things, and done some himself, but that one word was the worst he had ever experienced.

A word that will change both of your lives and he wasn't ready for that. He was dead. Only a ghost, an idea, a machine.

Not a father.

"Get rid of it." he would reply in his panic. He honestly didn't even realize he said it out loud if it wasn't for the hurt in your eyes, he would have believed he didn't.

But he did. And it hurt.

He then turned away and left.

You promised yourself it would be the last time you saw him.

Because now, you finally could see all of his red flags.

All of them came crashing down on you.

But you also knew you won't 'get rid of it'. No, you will keep this baby.

And after getting a note from your doctor, you retired from the army, focusing on the baby and yourself instead.

Fuck Simon and his attitude.

Fuck him for not stepping up when you needed him.

Fuck him.

You will do better without him.

---

Living in a small apartment in a quiet place in London might have been the obvious choice.

But it was your choice.

You wanted to prove that you can provide for your child.

Thankfully you were smart enough to not spend the money you earned while in the army.

So, you had enough money for now.

Not for very long, but you could still get a little nursery done in your home.

You went to all of your appointments with that doctor.

Hearing the heart of your baby beating was like magic.

And then the announcement of the century, you were having a little girl.

A beautiful little girl who is yours.

Your daughter.

You needed many days to let that sink it.

Being pregnant and alone was a nightmare.

No one was there to rub your feet or to help with your cravings.

You told yourself you don't need anyone anyway… After all, who would want a woman who is pregnant with someone else's child?

There might be a couple men out there but you didn't need them.

You just needed you and your baby.

And that was enough.

When the time finally came, you could only stare at her, sleeping in her bed next to you in the hospital.

You swore to protect her from everything.

You swore to be enough for her.

You swore to love her forever.

For she was the love of your life.

Your little bundle of joy.

You gave her a name, a name you always wanted to have yourself, so you let her have it instead.

A healthy little girl.

Your daughter, Emily.

Bringing her home was possibly as challenging as it was magical.

You ordered some food for yourself before putting her to sleep.

You tried your best to remember everything the doctor and the nurses told and taught you.

There was a knock on your door, you stood up and walked to get your food.

But of course, instead of your food, a man stood in your doorway.

Simon.

"You got to be fucking with me." you said as he looked at you.

"Nice to see you too, Lass."

"What do you want?"

"I believe you have something of mine. Half, mine."

"Go fuck yourself Simon. This is all you can say? 11 months and this is the best you can do. Leave."

And you slammed the door into his face.

When your food finally arrive you did catch a glimpse of him still waiting in the hallway. But you didn't care.

Who did he think he was?

Half of his?

Fuck him.

How dare he?

---

From that day on, he was everywhere.

In the grocery store, in the park, in the restaurants. Wherever you and Emily went, Simon followed.

One day, you were sitting on a bench, Emily sleeping in her stroller when he suddenly sat down next to you.

"I'm sorry."

"That's a better start." you said, not looking at him.

"I was a complete idiot when I told you to…" he looked at the stroller as you watched him, you understood what he meant. "I have been watching you for a while now. I found you when you were five months along."

"So, you have been watching me for 6 months now?"

"About that much, yes. I died the day my family died. I am a ghost, a baby didn't fit into that."

"Then wear a condom." you said with a harsh tone, he knew he deserved it.

"I am not father material. I am a soldier. Having a child is… not for me."

"Why are you here Simon? Are you here to tell me, this time nicely, that you want nothing to do with me or my daughter? Fine, have it your way. Leave, I didn't need you then, I don't need you now."

"You were the best of us. 141 isn't the same without you. Price often said that you will be the end of me. He always joked about you and me… a quiet life, but I don't think he meant it as a joke. You fascinated me always. You are so beautiful and kind."

"Simon-"

"The day you were told you are having a girl, you were so happy. You went to a restaurant and ate so many things, then you went to the ice cream shop. The lady looked at you funny when you asked to only eat the pink ones. I followed you, I watched you."

"Why are you here Simon?"

"Price told me to find you, he told me to make things right, but he only spoke the words I have been meaning to do. I knew I needed you the moment you joined the team. I let you go because of my own doubts and fears. I do not know what I would do if anything happened to you or her."

His words were sincere. His eyes were filled with guilt and regret.

You would be lying if you said you weren't attracted to him. You always were and will be.

"I can't let you in Simon if you are only going to leave us." is all you could say, your voice, barely a whisper.

Simon was about to say something when Emily started to stir and cry.

You grabbed her and put her on your chest, slowly bouncing and calming her down. You looked at Simon whose eyes were glued to your little girl.

"She has your eyes." you said as he looked at you and then back to her. You moved her slightly, making her face him.

"She looks like you." he said. "Beautiful." it was something he wasn't meant to say, you could tell easily. "I don't want to leave, but I have to. It's what's the safest for you two."

"It's not enough. I am not going to just send you photos of her for every anniversary. I'm not going to tell her that her father wants to see her but can't. It will break her and me. Either you have us Simon or not. I'm not doing the tango with you."

"You were always the all-or-nothing type." he chuckled. He was looking at Emily and you could tell it wasn't an easy decision to make. But you couldn't let him have it his way. As if to help your case, Emily reached out her small hand towards Simon, you smiled at her but waited for his reaction.

He lifted his hand and let her touch his fingers.

Simon will never forget the feeling of his daughter's first touch. It was so warm and innocent. Her little fingers played with his much bigger ones.

Simon came with the intention of letting you go. But he couldn't.

When he first saw you, you were radiating.

Your belly was showing as you walked from store to home. Simon should have known it was a done deal after that.

He should have known he will never be able to let go.

"I will make this right." he said as he let Emily wrap her tiny fingers around his thumb.

He couldn't believe just how terrible he was towards you that day. Telling you to 'get rid of it', of his daughter. He will forever regret his words. No matter how much he will do in the future. You offered him a small smile and a simple nod.

You knew he will be able to make things right, the two of you will be able to figure this out.

Simon Riley might be a walking red flag with a tragic past, but when you handed him Emily, his eyes filled with love and suddenly, in the bright daylight those red flags looked more pink to you.

Taglist: @fleursirvart @greenarrowhead @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster @capsiclesdoll @puknow @alwayshave-faith @alex12948 @lxdyred  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @praline357 @trshngyn @avengers-r-us @violet-19999 @top1bbgloak   @manduse   @jacalineiscomingforyou  @mandoloriancookie @noname2246

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DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS  

[jnkgrnde]

— confessions, confessions, clarisse la rue, pjo

summary — in which, ever since you’ve arrived at camp, clarisse has seen you as her number one enemy. who would’ve known she’d make it so much more complicated than what it is.

pairings — clarisse la rue x black!fem!reader (daughter of athena)

content included — clarisse being flirty, clarisse using nicknames, eventual making out, uhh thats ab it

gods, you hated her.

her and her gorgeous face and pretty smile and soft hair. you hated her. hated her beautiful laugh and fierce eyes and her winning attitude.

and she hated you just as much.

you and your pretty laugh and your soft skin and the way you always have a plan. how you managed to up her whenever she had something smart to say.

she hated it.

it was capture the flag day. this year, chiron had switched some people from different teams; you had moved to the red team. clarisse’s team. you dragged your feet over to the team as she was explaining the plan.

“finally decided to join us, angel?” she used the nickname mockingly, but it still made your heart speed up a bit. you rolled your eyes, walking over and standing in the circle. clarisse let her eyes linger on you before continuing to talk.

she finished explaining the plan, and surprisingly enough, you were going to be with her a majority of the time. the conch sounded, signaling the start of the game.

“y/n, c’mere.” you jogged over to her. “is there a reason why we’re not with everyone else?” she just smirked. “just need you to keep guard, princess.” you scoffed at this. “so i couldn’t have had a better job?”

“what, you don’t like being around me?” she mocked. “you always have something to say, la rue. why would i?” truth be told, you did like being around her. not that you’d ever admit it, but she gave you a fuzzy feeling inside. “could’ve helped you, y’know, win the game if you’d just put me near the flag.” you tried to reason.

“hm, no. think you’d be better guarding with me.” clarisse teased. “well you know you’re capable by yourself, so-“ clarisse placed her hand over your mouth to shush you, putting her finger to her lips. she squatted behind some bushes, you following her.

there went some members of the blue team, luke nowhere to be seen. you knew he usually went with chris to play offense for the team. you and clarisse watched the team, studying their positions. “you got a magic weapon, right? the one that makes you invisible?” she asked you. “‘course i do.” “need you to use that. make a distraction.” you brought out your enchanted dagger, willing it to make you invisible.

you snuck around, stepping on some branches to try and get their attention. heads snapped towards your direction. “who’s there?” clarisse stepped around slowly, watching them. she let out a battle cry, going in to fight them. it was 3 against 1, but for clarisse it was nothing.

while she was dealing with them, you snuck around to get the flag. once you got it, you ran as fast as you could back to base. “HEY!” you heard yelling, but you kept running. clarisse watched you with a smile before realizing what she was doing and screwed her face back up.

before one of the campers could run after you, she tackled them to the ground. the others ran after you while clarisse screamed at you to run.

you ran as fast as your legs could carry you, jumping over tree branches and stumps. you could hear the running behind you, so you came up with a plan last second. you turned a random way, near some thick bushes before continuing to run. you didn’t think about anything but making it back to your post.

finally, the sight of your teams area came into view. the first person who spotted you was one of clarisse’s brothers. “she’s got the flag!” he yelled out. you reached the rock, short of breath, chest hurting, but you made it.

the conch blew, signaling that the game was over, and your team erupted into cheer. clarisse came out of the woods, a grin on her face. she cheered with her teammates before coming over to you. “good job, princess.”

your face burned from the nickname. you mumbled out a thank you while clarisse snickered beside you.

she was having fun with this.

“spar with me.”

“what?”

clarisse came over to where you were sitting in the dining pavilion, reading a book. “you heard me. i need a sparring partner.” she told you. “why me?” “so i can feel the glory of beating you, pretty girl.”

gods, when was she going to stop with these nicknames?

you raised an eyebrow. “and you’re sure none of your other siblings wanted to spar?” clarisse just shrugged. “don’t know. didn’t care to ask them. just spar with me.” you mulled over your options before sighing dramatically.

“fine. just go easy, la rue.” “can’t promise that, angel.” she grinned.

coming to terms with the fact you probably liked clarisse la rue out of all people was something you absolutely refused to do. not only was she cocky, but she had this overwhelming urge to want to beat you and everyone else in everything just because she can.

but another part of you couldn’t help but acknowledge how caring she could be towards specific people. like her younger siblings, who she was around quite often to help them train and get better. how she cared for her siblings in general, how she always checked up on her friends. it made your heart yearn for her in ways you didn’t expect.

what also made you yearn for her was the nicknames and the way she looked at you, but that’s a story for a different time.

you two made it to the sparring range. “we can use two weapons right? or are you strict about sparring too?” you asked her. “and what’s that supposed to mean?” she questioned. you shrugged. “just figured since you’re the daughter of the war god and all, you’d wanna have a specific way.”

clarisse rolled her eyes and couldn’t help but chuckle at the statement. that’s what she liked about you — you always had something to say, a comeback for her every time she got something smart out. it’s also why she ‘hated’ you so much, because you always had to one-up her.

“no specific way, princess. just try to pin me to the ground.” she told you. you hummed, pulling your dagger from your belt loop. you two decided to not go with any armor, seeing as this was just a quick match. “you ready, la rue, or do you still wanna spend time with your spear?” you mocked. “don’t bite off more than you can chew, pretty girl.”

you walked around eachother in circles for a few seconds before you willed your dagger to make you disappear. clarisse knew that was going to happen, though. she was calculated like that. what you didn’t know was that she was very attentive, which meant she could see and almost hear the dirt as you moved.

“not good at sneaking around over here, pretty girl.” she murmured. she sped up her movements before attempting to tackle you to the ground. she did tackle you, but you put up a fight. this went on until you finally managed to pin her to the ground. you became visible, a triumphant grin on your face.

“got you, la rue.” you pointed out, but she didn’t say anything back. in fact, her face was starting to turn a shade of red. she looked at you with uncertainty, like she was restraining herself from doing something. you realized the position you were in, and you tried getting up as you mumbled out a sorry, but clarisse planted one hand on your waist.

“where are you going, smart girl?” she asked. you looked into her eyes, your heart feeling like it was about to beat out of your chest. you swallowed harshly. her hand crept up to your shirt, gripping the cloth. she slowly brought you down to her. “what are you doing, la rue?”

clarisse ignored you, instead choosing to bring you down to her lips. it was shocking, slow at first, until it turned frantic between the both of you. unsaid confessions and yearning were expressed through your lips. you both came up for air when it became too much. she let out a breathy laugh while you started to smile.

“how long have you been wanting to do that, la rue?”

[fauustic]

a second chance

BRIEF SPOILERS FOR ACROSS THE SPIDER-VERSE, DESCRIPTION OF REVEALED WORLD-BUILDING.

gender-nonconforming reader x miguel “spider-man 2099″ o’hara

angst. comfort. a bit of fluff. miguel o’hara breaks up with you for your safety, but the universe gives you both a second chance.

warnings: description of violence.

word count: 7358

Somehow, the city seemed even more suffocating out the window of Miguel’s apartment, lights of every color on the spectrum peering into the room as highly advanced cars skimmed by. The millions of people inhabiting such a place had their own problems, but for a moment you wished you were someone else. On their way to work in a tip-top business suit, an old person trying to make the most out of every passing day– anything other than here was more appetizing.

For a moment, you wish you were ignorant to the burden of these powers, the powers Miguel was forced upon and the powers you greedily accepted like a little kid in a candy shop.

It was all too much.

You’ve never seen Miguel so emotional, his knees meeting the ground before you could even shut the door.

There were glimpses of what let through, the broken state of his mind that he so desperately tried to keep together like grains of sand falling through fingers. Late nights he would break down sobbing in your grounding hold, chanting and repeating broken phrases of what had him so upset. Other times these fits you slowly grew accustomed to would be set off from your kindness, actions so deeply rooted in your routine that when it started creating disturbances in your relationship. It was painful, being the glue that held him together.

At the beginning of your relationship, it was something magical. Like one of the romance comics you’d skim through as a teenager, or a romcom movie that had you pining for the lovey-dovey side character.

Miguel was set in his ways no matter what he was faced upon, and making a statement on how serious he felt about you was no different. He’d court you with the utmost respect, swaying you with gifts and flowers that reminded him of you. His affectionate nature came to fruition as you crumbled all his walls in mere months, destroying the years of progress that he enforced to keep others out.

Yet, those nasty habits Miguel formed when he had no-one else slowly peeked through the crevices of your time together. Soft red flags that waved in passing roses he’d give after bad arguments of “your safety,” a bad feeling in your gut whenever Miguel mentioned something along the lines of, “they can’t hurt you too.”

The few months leading to the end of it all was messy, as secrets he precariously kept away from you fell right at your feet. Literally, and figuratively.

Waking into your shared home, all that was on your mind was preparing a meal for you boyfriend who always seemed to come home late. The scent of the apartment washed over your exhaustion-ridded body, cracking your shoulder with a pained hiss.

Distinct woody fragrances wafted throughout the cozy décor, Miguel’s aroma of Sambac jasmine combined with cedar and praline met your senses as a familiar comfort. You wondered if Miguel experienced the same after a long day, your magnolia and orange blossom washes relieving him of the stress of work.

Miguel was overwhelmed, sickened by his work at his lab. You’d always try to help him through his struggles with a massage, which he'd melt under your touch in mere seconds, but the moment you attempted to get him to speak about his troubles he always found an excuse. 

So you stopped, having to face rejection so many times by the man you adored put so much wear on your own mental health too.

Getting home a bit earlier, you situated your suit in your over-the-shoulder bag before fully stepping into the apartment. As your entire being was surrounded by the reminder of Miguel, guilt slashed through your consciousness at keeping your own secrets away from him as well. But he was worried sick always, whether it be about his own duties or confusingly about your safety.

Yet, when your sneakers you changed into moments before entering the house slipped onto something haphazardly thrown against tile floor– the façade Miguel tried to feed into to "keep you away from harm" came crashing down. 

It felt like an earthquake within your own home, rattling your heart around your ribcage like a feral bird stuck in an aviary. You were quiet, the gasp where sickness soon followed escaped through your stifling fingers wrapped against your mouth. It was terrible, being exposed to the truth in an act caught red-handed.

Curiosity snatched up your brain, the urge to prove what the mask strewn against the floor truly meant. You knew what was bound to come, but you couldn't help but think of a million different excuses in the time you tiptoed through the hallway and met the sight of his scarred back sitting upon the table.

His suit was torn off in a hurry, you assumed, by the state of how the half of his suit was rolled down to his waist and his mask was ripped off and thrown down carelessly. Finally catching him in such a vulnerable position, your heart seized and shriveled just to be rolled out again as his groan in pain cut you away from your thoughts.

 You were upset. You know you had no right to be, but as every lie he fabricated to allow the space to have this second life pushed to the forefront of your mind, a choked sob erupted through your throat.

Why did he suffer through this burden alone? Is this what kept him from letting me in? Your brain became muddled with questions, tears clouding your tired gaze. Miguel was in the middle of tightening a gauze against a nasty cut on his forearm, curls damp with sweat and blood, when the choked cry that escaped your lips caught his attention like a spooked animal.

"Miguel," you sobbed harder as he continued to try and make excuses,

"Cariño, it isn't what it looks like–" 

Your voice raised as heightened emotions threatened the atmosphere, your grasp on your bag tightening because you had your own secrets and second identity. Why wouldn't honesty escape from your mind and rid the ache in your chest? 

You settled on being mad. Being absolutely furious as you reminded yourself of the lies he'd conjured, make you worry about his job as a chemist and even embarrass yourself by going up there and filing a complaint. Knowing it was all an act and you were just a side-character to his play, a mix of disappointment and betrayal fogged your mind. "I'm not blind, O'Hara!"

Stomping back down to swipe up the mask, lens broken and flimsy under your manhandling, you waved it around the air like you were showcasing an audience. Miguel only groaned, pinching his nose as his own frustration clouded his critical thinking. "I know exactly what I'm looking at, Miguel, really? Is this why you act like you're so fucking scared of something?"

He repeated your name this time, cold and calculated. Like you were a villain on the battlefield Spider-man– he– just destroyed earlier, spitting out the criminal's tag like it was worse than the dirt he stepped on. "¡Mierda!" He seethe, standing up only to shuffle closer, but you only stepped away. "Do you think I enjoyed keeping this fucked up secret away from you? No estoy orgullosa de mí misma."

Tell him you have the same problems.

"Were you ever going to tell me?" You cried instead, and his hands reached to cradle your cheeks but you pathetically swiped them away. 

Tell him you have to worry about living until the next day for the sake of protecting others.

He was frozen stiff, his hands– claws you've never noticed before, unsheathing in and out of his palms. "I.. was. But I was terrified."

Tell him you're scared of others finding out who you really are too. Tell him you relate, and there was no reason to hide anymore. 

But you didn't, instead you wiped away your own tears with sweaty palms, struggling to keep yourself from staring at Miguel's broken expression. He looked like a kicked puppy, his arms reaching out to you subtly to show if you walked into his arms he'd never let you go.

"Scared of what?" You tried your best to sound as furious as before, but all that came was a meek whisper. 

Miguel's own tears fell onto the floor, catching your eyes as you stared at his mask in your clutches. "I'm so, so fucking scared of losing you. Tú eres mi vida, the air I breathe. You're the one constant I've had in my life, having it ripped away from me would kill me."

He's finally being open, and for a moment you saw light at the end of the tunnel. A turning point for the man, a second chance at being transparent in your relationship. It gave you the courage to come clean about your own second life and to apologize for your irrational words. But he spoke before you, rough and etched with hurt.

"But I don't know if we can keep this up."

"What?" The trance he was putting you under was shattered.

He laughed at nothing, his stare tinted with animalistic craze. Miguel's claws dug into his curls, "We need to break up." 

The mask in your grip fell, a stunned silence settling over the two of you. He had just said he couldn't live without you, how he wouldn't know what to do if you were ripped away from him– and now he's proposing a breakup? 

"You, what? Is this some joke?"

He turned away from you, pacing in unsaid panic. You knew he didn't want to do this, yet once he had a plan in his mind you also knew that he'd sacrifice anything to do the "right thing."

Miguel repeats your name the second time that night, your composure thrown off at the lack of pet names he would utter like honey from his tongue. He sounds hollow, dissociated from himself to make this discussion finish quicker. "They, I'm scared– okay? Scared shitless that they're going to come after you." He wheezed out another dry laugh, his bruised knuckles coming to kiss his eyes to blind his vision. The loudness of your voice from before must be giving him headaches. Because you were struggling with the same thing too.

"I can fend for myself–" you began to counter, hands coming in contact with the spider suit in your bag before his booming voice shook you to your core.

"No, no. You don't understand." Sobs choked his words, a flood of tears he couldn't bother to rid staining his cheeks and rolling down his jaw. "You can't! They're coming for me, and the ones I love. And the only one I love is you." Miguel emphasized himself by grazing your chest with a talon, exactly where your heart beat lurched and pattered like a broken down engine. "They will target you, and they will kill you."

Desperate, you were the one now begging for him to walk into your embrace. But he only turned away, his marred back facing you. The image burned itself in your mind.

"Who are they, Miguel? Why, even now, you won't tell me anything?" You sank to your knees, crawling towards him in despair. It couldn't be over.

"Hemos terminado. We're done, over." Miguel's tone steeled over, icy and painful and jarring. "Get out of my house."

He stood there like a statue, one arm holding himself only for his free hand to be pinching the bridge of his nose. Miguel didn't move as you quieted down your wails, and storm through the house to take what was yours and what you needed.

No words left your lips as you would steal a glance at his unmoving figure, the only giveaway that he was even breathing was his wavering composure. His attention stayed fixated on a corner of his apartment, head turned away from you the entire time.

You didn't care that you were still leaving so much of your stuff as your legs tripped over themselves to finally leave his apartment. You had more than enough money to live on your own, to buy the barebones like a toothbrush and necessities all over again.

Miguel O'Hara would now be a thing of the past, and all of the things tied to him could burn down in the apartment he held you. 

Your senses could tell that once your sneakers squeaked down the hallway of his apartment, thinking you would never be able to notice– Miguel's knees met the floor of his apartment with a heavy thud.

Fighting the amount of bags in your hands while simultaneously pushing the button of the first floor repetitively, the last memory you have of Miguel was his unfiltered sobs filling the apartment floor.

☆

With time, you found yourself.

Whether it be from the new body wash you had bought for yourself or the different commute you began to take for work, a niche engineering project you've stumbled upon after the breakup– and it coincidentally helps you test materials that you could incorporate into your suit. The constant reminder of the man you brought to your knees didn't hurt that much anymore. Progress was being made, or so you thought.

Every time your back met a brick wall from the force of some outer-dimensional monster turned sentient who all of a sudden wants to get back at the human race, the thud that echoed from the impact would knock you right back to the apartment filled with sweet praline and magnolia. His sobs trailing behind a screech of pain from your enemies, causing hesitation in your combat.

The cheers below you snapped you out of your daze, civilians chanting for your victory or screaming in fear as they ran away. After the breakup, you've found yourself with the leniency of being able to suit up whenever your heart desires because you weren't keeping a secret away from another anymore.

You bit your cheek in frustration, upset at how you handled the situation because you had done the same and you were mad at him for doing exactly what you were doing. All these months have passed, and you still can't help but feel guilty.

But it's in the past now.

Another screech met your ears, back shivering as a chill washed over your spine. With the fast reaction speed you were able to build, you swung out of the way to another rooftop before the alienistic creature side slammed you. The web slinger you have tinkered with enhanced your ability to shoot out organic webs at a consistent pace, working as fine as a charm when you swing back towards the vicious monster to crunch your knuckles sickeningly into its slimy flesh. It glitched disgustingly.

It withered away with ease, falling off the skyscraper it had leaped upon in an attempt to finish you off. Throwing a device onto the being, it was trapped into a vibrant hold it couldn’t get out of.

Your soft cream-white suit glistened with its green blood, covering the black trim you painstakingly painted in the dead of night.

The appearance you kept up as a Spider-person upgraded with time because you didn't exactly mind the limelight. Not staying in the shadows anymore since you didn't have to worry about O’Hara finding out about you, your suit became something you adorned with confidence. It was a part of you now, as cheers sounded out from below at your entertaining brawl with a slime monster that totally wants to eradicate the city. 

But yeah, go ahead and cheer you poor ignorant souls.

You never really came up with a name, but as you began incorporating little trinkets on your newly added combat satchel like a stray feather and charms of swans because a little girl said "your suit reminded her of one," the news generously graced you with the title "Spider Swan." On some bad days on the broadcast, though, the name would easily become a tomato show for jokes like "baby bird couldn't flap its wings," or "someone left the nest a bit too early."

It was infuriating.

The headgear installed in your mask allowed you to pick up on police waves, listening into calls and urgent matters so you could have a better idea of where you were needed and how you could help.

It rang through the noise of webs slinging from a glass window to a neon billboard, the police urgently requesting backup on a city street not that far away from you. It was describing a creature just like the one you obliterated, slimy and green and totally not from your universe. A scream pierced the radio waves, encouraging a sense of a little more urgency in your movements.

Becoming more involved with this line of work, you began to understand Miguel's worries. Corrupt organizations would pray for your downfall, threatening everyone you should probably hold dear to your heart as your spurred shoes met the slide of their faces. Other times skilled criminals would form alliances with one another and try to dig up your true identity as a way of blackmail.

It never worked and they're now where they need to be, but you suppose after you hear so many threats you begin to take it with nonchalance– and suddenly it isn't an empty threat– the panic that overwhelmed O’Hara was perfectly reasonable.

The beautiful lights of the underground city lit up against your lenses like a wildfire, a visual feast you’ve never been able to get enough of. Swinging throughout the tight spaces of Nueva York, you neared closer to where you were needed. A gunshot veered past you, presumably from a dumb cop, and you had to flip in the air and roll onto the street before picking up speed again.

Hissing out in pain, a quip escaped your lips when you neared the police force. “Did anyone here train to do their job? The last time I was here you almost shot me in my good eye–” Before you could even finish your sentence, two rookies pulled their guns in a defensive stance. With a heavy sigh, you easily subdued them with your webs before swinging into action.

The monster looked as if it was already struggling, turned away from your figure and groaning in its mother tongue, oozing with a gross slime that littered and disrupted the flow of traffic down below. It was relatively larger than the one you had just captured and suddenly the device in your hand feels a little too small. Nonetheless, as the villain flailed lazily, the heel of your foot met the crunching sensation from one of its many eyes. You almost gagged as it exploded onto your white suit, but the navy blue lenses meeting your contrasting white made time stop. It wasn’t until one of the many tentacles belonging to the creature yanked your ankle– soaring you violently towards a skyscraper– that the trance from the one you had been avoiding was interrupted with a shock.

“You–”

He had been trying to find you like a fox finding a bunny, you knew that. Waiting in the shadows, you always see him stalking beyond the darkness. And now you’re right here, finally coexisting in the same space after months of a cat-mouse game. “Can’t exactly talk here,” You yelled, deepening your voice in a pitch that made you cringe. “Let’s put a raincheck on what’s going on here and focus on the weird dimensional-octopus that’s currently beating your ass.” Spider-Man, with a groan of frustration that was just so familiar, noticeably squinted in your direction that had you sweating bullets as he right hooked the head of the monstrosity.

You knew everything about him. He knew nothing about you.

“I’m supposed to be the one and only Spider-Man of this–” He dodged a tentacle aiming for the head, only to unsheathe his claws and start ripping into the flesh of the villain. The smell, something similar to the stench of Sulphur mixed with radioactive chemicals. It burned your enhanced senses, tipping your balance before you caught yourself. 

“Well obviously, you’re not.” Steadying your emotions, the calmness of your tone contrasted his irritability. “You know it’s not impossible–” Webs meeting tentacles, the screech of the glitching excrescence interrupting your words before quickly silencing it with another heel to the eyes. Pointing up and then at the watch around his wrist, you gave him a pointed look and a shrug. Nothing was said, but at the exasperated howl at your accusatory gesture– he obviously understood the unsaid. 

“I’ve been speaking to you for a minute–” Another punch. “And I’m already finding you the most annoying out of all of them–”

You rolled your eyes, webbing the tentacles of the monster together like shoelaces stuck together. “Gee, thanks tough guy.” No response.

The monstrosity the two of you had been grappling against grew more frantic with its movements, growing more aware of its losing battle by the moment. With defeat in tow, the tentacles split into multiple. Green juice splattering excessively over the city blocks, it screamed horrendously in pain. The dimensional monster was imploding into itself, never allowing it the chance to return back to its universe.

Being so close to the glitching, dramatic death of the slime monster– Spider-Man pushed the heaving half-corpse’s weight off his own in a flurry. Always having to be quick on your feet in this field, you webbed the monster in the air so it could hang uselessly– the death of the anomaly would not be able to interfere with anything amongst Nueva York. 

Being on your own despite having so much at your finger-tips, the separation between you and O’Hara made things difficult. You were on your own despite being at the core of everything. 

Head buzzing with spider senses, your attention snapped towards the man that is tangled with your entire being– a useless game of push-and-pull that neither one of you are giving into. 

Spider-Man miscalculated the leap away, his claws trying to find purchase in the metal beams of the building. But something was wrong, the slime running down his forearms ruining his suit’s resistance. 

The structure O’Hara clung to was threatening to crumble due to the constant strain of the battle, doused in the greasy muck that pixelated and discolored by each passing moment the villain was close to combusting entirely. Before you knew it, the construction of the building that was so complexly fabricated was coming down and shifting into rubble on the borough down below. 

Your limbs began moving on its own, your mind racing into a frenzy of saving the people down below and the man you revolved around like the sun and moon– unknowing forces pushing the two of you together but never touching. 

Until now.

The collision lasted only seconds, but to you it was as if the eclipse was forever. Skin sizzling with nerves you didn’t even know you could feel ignited aflame, the pads of your feet coming into contact with the building’s crumbling walls– diving into spaces and using the webs you shot as a catapult. 

Your hold came into contact with a body before you knew it, warm and intimate like you were back in his home. Tucked away in the softness of his duvet, your arms wrapped around his skin like an anchor against the raging waves. Memories came flooding in, lightheaded with your spider senses crying out in danger against the puzzle pieces that placed O’Hara on a pedestal. The first rose he gave you floated through the crevices of your brain, an astray petal landing softly on a memory you forced down. 

The radioactive spider that latched its fangs into your skin on the night you met O’Hara, pain mixing with anticipation. 

It's like the city lights grew more vibrant at the realization, soda blue mixing with dragon fruit pink– lime green swirling with sunny yellow. Everything fits together. This was how it was supposed to go, despite all the pain.

Strength you’ve built up allowed yourself to heave him onto your shoulder, breathing heavily at his weight crushing yours. But determination and adrenaline pushed you further, swinging through the shadowed city until you found a safe perch– laying him down gently. Time was running out, but you had to do what needed to be done.

Ripping on the tattered mask upon your face, you scooped up his head into a soft grasp. Right hand behind his neck and the other leaning the back of his head towards your unearth identity, his lenses tiredly widened at the abrupt reveal.

Tears you didn’t know you had in you– not shedding a tear ever since the day the two of you broke up– flooded your eyes and rolled down your sliced skin. Salt mixed with flesh, the pain kept you wide awake and aware.

“Still the most annoying one you ever met?” You couldn’t help but try to ease the tension in the atmosphere, yet failing with obvious reason.

O’Hara whispered your name like a blessing, claw upon his chest meeting the dirt on your cheek in the softest graze he’s ever bestowed against you. “You– you’re here.”

“I’m here.” You echoed, resting your forehead against his own. His suit caressed against your skin, and the world stopped. All that you could hear was his soft wheezing of breath and your own, and suddenly everything felt okay.

“¿Cómo puede ser eso?” He muttered aloud, “How can this be? How are you here?” he became a mumbling mess as nervousness clutched his rationality. O’Hara’s hand swiping against your jaw shifted to the small of your back in a hug. It was like nothing had ever happened, and you were about to fall in the ravine of his presence before a ear-blasting trill of beams breaking pulled you back into reality. You stood up, rolling your mask back on before looking down below. A miracle was going to have to happen for everything to turn out okay, but you were willing to take that risk. He called your name, reaching the hand not clutching his side out in desperation. “Don’t do this– you can’t change–”

You kept your back turned, shooting your webs onto a piece of rubble falling for leverage. “Don’t you dare fucking move.” Was the last thing you said before you plunged into the chaos that was unravelling Nueva York from the inside out.

☆

The abrasion of concrete rubbing against your skin carved into your skin, until it didn’t. Dust threatened to enter your lungs as you weaved in and out of obstacles created from the fissures of collapsing high-rises, bodies clasping onto you like a lifeline– until that ended as soon as you started as well.

Everything made sense finally, and then it stopped. Paused as soon as it strengthened, disentangling memories and causing fragmentation.

Lips met yours, the firm grasp of palms against your hips. “Cariño, you don’t understand how much I’ve thought about my mouth on yours since we last met.”  A familiar voice whispered into your ear, kneading into your flesh as each syllable rolled out lazily. But the warm breath fanning the side of your face never came, and the wisps of hair that met your forehead never tickled you.

The touch of an elevator button against your index ignited your senses, bags dragging down your tired form. The thud of knees meeting tile followed, before ending with sobs echoing in the corners of your mind.

Darkness enveloped your mind, the vibrancy of neon lights that grew so comforting never came. 

Cold metal met your limbs, grazing your chest and the beeping of a scan met your ears. Orange hues painted the darkness for just a moment, before vanishing like a hallucination. Little bits and pieces of words would echo throughout the chamber you’ve found yourself in– “When do you think,” – “¡Mierda! Are you even doing your job correcting?!” – “Let me take over,” “You have no idea what you are even looking at, Miguel!” – “But you do?!”

It was like this for a while, until the words grew closer and the colors overlapping pitch black spread like webs. 

The first thing you felt was a weight on your leg, thigh trapped under the pressure of something breathing and shifting ever so slightly. The covers lying atop your form was nothing close to the softness you were used to, instead the scratchy fabric brushed against your skin and the thin gown you felt as you twitched.

Your muscles ached, both out of stiffness and the strain of what you remember: the buildings collapsing around you, rubble piercing your skin. Your throat felt dry, the lights overhead intruded against your eyelids. The metal sensation from before, cold and icy, trailed along your arms as you woke.

Peeling your gaze open, your spider senses went into overdrive. It feels as if your body had sunken into the pit of an ocean, drowning and heavy with salt water flooding your pores. 

The first to catch your eye was the spider-shaped robotic machinery tending to your wounds, scabbed and bandaged with care. Your fists curled into the bed you rested against; the smell of chemicals embedded within the fabric burned at your nostrils. The luminescence of the lamps on the bedside counter were dimmed low as your gaze adjusted to the sensory intake, breathing deeply in a way to calm yourself.

This place was nothing you’ve ever seen before, but with an abundance of spider-themed gadgetry adorned along the wall and medical systems– alongside the hyper-technologically advanced computer interfaces connected to the tubed legs of the metallic spiders accessing the wounds you had, you assumed it must have been the Spider Society HQ you’ve heard in passing. The building above the greenery beyond Nueva York, a vision you were only able to get glimpses from riding the train.

Holding your breath, you looked at the weight atop your thigh. 

A tuft of combed-back brown curls met your stare before tracing the few strands hanging delicately over his forehead. His eyes were fluttered shut, eyebrows furrowed as if he was having a bad dream. Deep stress lines you desperately wanted to thumb away rested in-between his brow, leading you to the circles under his closed eyes. Deep and prominent against olive skin, O’Hara was now in a slightly modified, upgraded version of his navy blue suit that had none of the previous damage from the battle you stumbled upon.

His head lay against your thighs heavily, breathing in your scent deeply as he dozed off. Every few snores, he’d stutter in his sleep as if he was about to shock himself awake– but he easily settled back in the softness of your muscle after his hand upon your stomach would grab the flesh of your stomach softly. 

You took a moment to study him. There’s been a few times you’ve sighted him in the streets, usually his mask covering his identity always. This is the first time you’ve truly had him so close and the realization of it all made your palms sweat and your stomach churn. The usual quips and your homemade spider-mask could not save you now, you were in the den of a lion’s. He quite literally had you in his grasp.

The knowledge you had of this place was limited, not being a part of the Spider Society because you had to avoid him– and now that everything has been revealed in regards to both of your secrets you had no idea what to do from here. Not like you could do much right now though, your bones feel fragile and your muscles feel weak. How long have you been holed up in this cage?

A groan escaped O’Hara’s lips, a frown contorting his features. Under the spell of sleep, he looked much more soft. The rigidness of his stoicism couldn’t plague his expression as dreams consumed him, but as his frown deepened and the lines between his eyebrows became more prominent,, you couldn’t help but slide your hand underneath his. Squeezing it, his scarred fingers subconsciously intertwined with yours without a moment’s hesitation. 

A smile bloomed onto your lips at the sight, your heart running a marathon at the closeness you were allowed. All the anger festered up from that night ebbed away with time and understanding– having the role as a Spiderperson since the split made you candidly comprehend the stress and dedication one has to have. With the experience, the hardness O’Hara had on himself and others suddenly made sense, and as the confusion cleared– love remained. The man within your reach finally, has always been in the corners of your mind, memories unearthed by every little thing in your life. You may have changed your route to work, but then you started to pass his favorite restaurant. You may have changed your body wash, but the scent of praline underlined the floral smell of ocean breeze.

He was always there, one way or another.

Silence enveloped the room, minus the soft beeping and the slight hiss that escaped you whenever one of the freaky looking medical spiders zapped skin back into place. Yet, as you sat there quietly while looking outside the window, tracing flying cars with your gaze or simply admiring the amount of green you’ve possibly ever seen before– a shaky voice met your rhythmic, soft breathing.

Your name was the first thing he said, disbelief lacing his tone before both his hands scooped up the clutch you held onto him with delicacy, like he was hiding away a treasure in the palm of his hands. “Can’t believe anything any of this–”

“How… how long was I out, O’Hara?” Your voice didn’t sound like your own, fragile and meek. It made you feel pathetic– being able to save so many people in less than two minutes and suddenly you couldn't even bring yourself to speak. Without a word, he reached over to the bedside table to fiddle with a water bottle and a straw. He set the straw to your lips, grabbing your chin to take the straw.

He sighed, tutting like a worried mother hen. “Don’t use your voice so much, cisne. Drink.” It’s been so long since you’ve been waited on hand-and-foot that it almost made you annoyed, but you did what he said because you are bedridden after all. And in a way, it made you feel like he cared. The way O’Hara’s thumb swiped your lower lip when water trickled down your chin was calculated, as if he was trying to embed the feeling into his brain again.

“You had been slipping in-and-out of consciousness over the past week and a half.” He murmured, leaning into your space as your free hand patted on his chest to indicate you had enough water. A soft frown threatened at his lips, worry evident in his gaze.

Coughing from choking down so much water, the question tumbled from your mind without second-thinking. “And how long have you been here?” You felt your cheeks hearten due to the lack of filter, but a part of you really wanted to know.

Your embarrassment transferred to him as soon as the question hung into the hair, his gaze ripping away from your own. His frown wobbled at getting caught within the act, vulnerability showing through for once between the amount of time the two of you have shared. “I’ve..” Having an internal battle with himself, he exhaled with stress in defeat. “Been here since you got here.” Your eyes lit up, and he only groaned at your obvious excitement. 

“You were worried.”

“I was– I was not worried– dios mío–”

You sat up further on the pillows behind you, pointing into his chest as he leaned further away in lighthearted mortification of finally having to talk about his feelings. “O’Hara! You were! You were worried!”

“If I admit it will you stop repeating yourself–”

“Yes,”

O’Hara’s brow furrowed as if he was in physical pain, leaning back into the chair he sat right beside your bed. His hands still stuck firming around your sweating ones, his head leaned back in exasperation. “I was worried. I am always worried about you. I was scared shitless sitting there on that ledge while you dived into the unknown.”

Breath stuttering, you held the air within your lungs for a long second. It felt like a dream, having the Miguel O’Hara hunched over with his hands around your own like a delicate doll, flushed and embarrassed because he finally has to admit his feelings. The urge to kiss him overwhelmed you, and if you had the strength to lean forward and do so, you would. But exhaustion was dwelled deep into your limbs, and you didn’t want to overexert yourself.

“And, and– stop calling me that. Jesus, it’s like hearing a teacher addressing me.”

This caught your attention as his scarlet eyes met yours, swirling with a flurry of emotions that screamed of intensity. “Calling you what?” You asked, trying to sound indifferent when truly you were just teasing him. But he was more than observant– and when he caught you trying to play him like you were a guitarist and he was your bass. This only riled him up more.

“O’Hara?! I’m Miguel to you, Miguel.” His hands tightened around your own as he repeated his name twice, almost like a plea. “Stop making me act like a child, I have a reputation to uphold–”

“You became O’Hara the day you broke up with me.” Low blow, and quite petty– but you wanted to test if he truly had changed.

The rant you cut off halted without another word, O’Hara’s forehead meeting your thigh as if you just slapped him atop the head when you knocked sense into him. “I didn’t know what else to do.” His voice choked up almost instantaneously, his emotions as high as ever like he just processed you were truly here and talking to him. “And look at where we ended up.” The latter didn’t sound like he was speaking to you, more like he was stuck in his head someplace far away. “Your safety was what mattered the most to me– and back then these people, these people threatened to remove you from here. Wipe you off the plane of this universe like you never even happened.”

You were silent as his hands kneaded into your thighs gently, fingertips trailing up your stomach like he was trying to remember every part of your body again unconsciously. “I didn’t want to lose you, and for the longest time I pushed it away as much as I could until I couldn’t anymore.”

Your brain clicked and churred, gears rolling back in place in your post-coma fog. “.. Is that why you were so stressed, so different throughout the end of our relationship?”

Miguel sighed heavily, tears threatening to fall as if an entire world was lifted off his shoulders. “.. Yes. Yes, I’m not proud of it. I’m really not proud of myself.” He repeated, confessing his sins like you were the pastor and he was a sinner. “I just was terrified for you to be gone.”

“.. I’m tired of having so much loss in my life.” It was barely above a whisper, but you heard it.

His shoulders raised, stammering as if he was holding himself back. Without a word, you shrugged your hand from his own. Scarlet gaze meeting yours in surprise, fangs on display unknowingly as his mouth slacked– your arms raised towards him and instantly he allowed himself to melt into your embrace.

“I didn’t know.” Was all you said.

“I didn’t want you to know,” He murmured against your cheek, breath fanning your ear and arms meeting your back strongly. Just like your dreams. Miguel’s words trailed off anxiously, before concluding with something you haven’t heard in a long time, “mi cielo.”

Tears soaked your shoulder sleeve, but you didn’t care. “But I want you to know everything now. I want you to be a part of my life now, we can get through it all–”

A small frown met your lips, heart clenching at his words. “I, I can’t– 

“Mi pajarito, please,” Miguel breathed in deeply, “I really, really have missed you.” His hold surrounding you tightened subtly. The buzz of floating cars whizzed by as silence enveloped the both of you, the noise of watches sounding throughout the hallway kept you grounded. Drilled it into your head that this was truly happening, that you’re here with Miguel with both of your secrets unveiled. Under each other's protection. 

“Miguel, I.. I can’t be hurt again.” You wanted him, wanted him more than anything. But something snatched your heart up and forced it into an aviary. It raged against the railings of its captor, fluttering with desperation. You were scared of rejection again, the repressed emotions flooding your senses and making you sob. Miguel held you as you cried and continued to do so, tracing shapes into your skin like all those months ago. “Please don’t leave me again.”

The plea escaped you through tears, Miguel promised and promised and promised as he swiped away the wetness amongst your cheeks, his cold exterior he kept affront during your relationship crashed down in waves as his own tears pressed into your skin. “I’m so sorry. Please, please like you gave me– give me a second chance.”

His fingers trailed up, grasping the nape of your neck while the other caressed your cheek with a shakiness you’ve never seen before. Always so confident, it reminded you of the brokenness you witnessed on the last night you were together. But this felt genuine, the looming fear and despair hanging over his head all those months ago were fanned away with time. This was Miguel’s honest attempt at vulnerability.

You stared into his tearful eyes, a smile playing at your lips as your hands sat upon his own holding your face. Leaning in, your nose brushed his as your eyes fluttered shut. Your lips, chapped and cold, met his contrasting warm and refined touch. Miguel presumably did not care, as his fingers intertwined with your hair and grasped your chin with a sparked need. The kiss was short and sweet, as the two of you breathed into each other’s mouth. Relishing in the moment, you pushed forward again as desperation seeped into your rationality.

Your hands moved from his own to his shoulders, pulling him deeper into the kiss and he just consumed whatever space you gave him. Miguel was aware of every muscle he pushed against you, but as the both of you clawed into each other’s flesh Miguel’s resolve to stay gentle ebbed away as his spit swapped with yours. It was if you were a struggling flower, and he was both the air and sun and water combined. He was everything you needed, and he was everything you wanted. To you, he was the sun and you were the moon– seeing one another in passing but never touching until today. 

But to him, you were the stars that littered the sky. A comet passing by, beautiful and alluring. You were in each neon sign of Nueva York, where he stared a little too hard and could see a figure of you that was constructed from the little imagination he had left. 

He saw you in the headquarters he overworked himself in to forget you. He saw you in the shadows of the city he protected. Miguel saw you in everything he believed in, yet everything he went against simultaneously. 

But he’ll learn to make exceptions with himself and the rules he place, because as his fangs dig into your lower lip and the noise that erupts from your throat wraps him around your finger– Miguel tries to understand how he ever let you go.

“Miguel, you kiss me once and you’re already trying to bite me–” You begin to scold in your little way, until Miguel shushes you with another kiss to the lips.

“It’s all out of love, cariño.”

[evilminji]

Okay, But, >.> Listen...

So MAYBE, just MAYBE, I am an incureable RoFan Isekai nerd. Shut up about it, maybe. What're you a cop? Mind your business. BUT! And hear me out...

W...What would actually? HAPPEN if Danny went into a Visual Novel? Some Otome game? You know, aside from being vague flustered by and then DEEPLY ALARMED by these walking Red Flag Fruitloops that girls are supposed to find "dreamy" or something?

Like we know how MMOs work for him. And probably OTHER open world games? But a visual novel? Would it be like the Christmas Episode? Would he hear narration? Be stuck in static "scenes"? Or would it be like a cut together "only the interesting parts" movie that he's somehow IN?

Like?? At SOME point his curiosity is gonna get the best of him. He's gonna want to know what different video games are LIKE on the inside? What's Pong like? Tetris? Mario? One of those Mama's cooking games? Etc etc.

He probably hits up a game sale. Buys a box or two. Figures he can always resell um or just give them away for free. Might even use them for parts. Who knows. And?

It's kinda cool!

It's even SCIENCE! See? Tucker's in charge of notes. Sam's in charge of hilarious commentary and pizza. Jazz is keeping them from drinking and doing ghost shit (terrible combination, we never speak of What Happened(tm) again). And the Dr's. Fenton got distracted by making fudge and debating what games should be counted towards which categories.

They've made an afternoon of it.

And NOW? They've reached the bottom of box one. It was "Survive The Villainess! My Rose for You!" Or... judging by Sam's climbing eyebrows and growing scowl? A DEEPLY unpleasant porn game about school girls.

You could not PAY him enough.

Yeah, he DOES realistically kinda want to know what happens.. if.. like? You know... sexy games... like would he? Or does he just WATCH or...? *awkward cough* But! That's NOT for Family Science Night! And DEFINITELY not THAT game, THANKS.

He'll find himself an ETHICALLY SOURCED smutty game full of consensual boning. For PRIVATE TIME. Those test results are gonna show up like MAGIC and we WILL NOT be talking about them! Got it? Good.

Now what the fuck is he look at here?

Jazz is surprisingly knowledgeable. They are not allowed to ask. They respect it. The main character "wakes up" inside the body of a "villainess" and must survive. Turn her terrible reputation around. Avoid "death flags". Preferably romance one of the hot guys?

Uuuuuuuh... you realize Danny's in a committed relationship, right?

Sam and Turker allow it. But they reserve the right to blast his taste in Fantasy Guy's. Chose carefully, for their roasting shall be BRUTAL. Luuuuuv yoooou~♡

He wants a divorce. They're not even MARRIED and he wants a divorce. You see how they mock him, Jazz? The cruelty he suffers? He's taking the Blobs and moving to Frightknight's. They always warned him about you living folks and your fast ways, but he didn't listen! *continued dramatics* *is smacked with a pillow*

But actually going IN? The weirdly, vaguely European over the top EVERYTHING? Giant jewels and ridiculous, fancy dresses? The walking red flag Romantic Archtype Leads? He wants to PUNCH half these guys! This is ABUSE! Are people OKAY!?

Like? I feel like he'd stay way, WAY longer then he needed too? Just out of morbid curiosity? W-where is this plot GOING? It's so dramatic. Why is my dress MORE dramatic now? Why is everything so... Sparkly.

It would be? AMAZING and baffling and I would pay real money to hear their live commentary. "Why not simply judo flip the crown prince off the balcony, then take over the country, sweetie?" "Solid plan, honey! He deserves it!" Beautiful. Flawless. Sage advice really. Too bad Danny can barely walk in his five million bows dress.

It's the BEST Au and I might be a genius. Or deeply sleep deprived. Meh. We'll 50/50 it, six of one, half a dozen of another.

@hdgnj @ailithnight @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter

[dreamlovetarot]

☁️「𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑎𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑑𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑓𝑢𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑑」🏹

left to right: pile 1, pile 2, pile 3

Welcome, 𝑓𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝐷𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑟,

as we embark upon a journey through the veils of time. In this celestial reading, we shall unveil the whispers of what your destined beloved shall hold most dear in you. Embrace this ethereal dance with an open heart, and may the stars above sprinkle their magic upon your path.

𝐼𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑚 𝑜𝑓 𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚𝑠, 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠,

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝒆𝒇𝒇𝒚 ⁓

Enchanting Disclaimer: Let it be known that Tarot's realm, found within these pages, is one of whimsical entertainment. What transpires is my personal interpretation, a delicate thread weaving through the cards' tapestry. Each portrayal, though bathed in speculation, seeks to capture your imagination. As you tread the starlit path of this reading, the harmony between your heart's song and its melodies shall guide you. Tarot's allure, an ethereal waltz, rests upon the tendrils of choice, where your intuition casts its own spell.

꒰ 🪼 ꒱ؘ ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ𝑃𝑖𝑙𝑒 01

The cards of your destiny: 7 of cups, child: orphan, the sentinel, the twins

Within the realm of your being, an enchanting tapestry unfolds. Your future spouse is drawn to the radiance of your imaginative spirit, finding allure in the way you perceive the world. Your ability to discern opportunity in even the most intricate patterns of life, and your unwavering understanding of choice, create a symphony of admiration.

Your essence weaves dreams into reality, infusing purpose into each step you take. There's a delicate magic in your willingness to dream without restraint, to paint your life with the hues of possibility. This mystical aura you carry isn't tinged with negativity, but rather a sparkling optimism that kindles fascination.

Yet, beyond the ephemeral, your independence shines like a distant star, guiding you to gather knowledge on your own terms. You're a self-sufficient learner, a wanderer across the cosmos of wisdom, and your partner cherishes this self-reliance.

In your stride, your beloved sees a warrior spirit. Your unwavering faith in yourself and your capacity to conquer any challenge bestows you with an aura of courage and resolve. This inner certainty sets you on a path of endless possibilities, a journey your partner deeply admires.

The Twins card whispers of your multi-dimensional nature. You're a puzzle with pieces that delightfully don't always fit together. Your unpredictability paints your journey with intrigue, offering a constant sense of discovery to your partner's heart.

This fusion of dreaminess and autonomy creates a unique alchemy. You master the art of emotional balance, a dance between grounding and flight. Your independence is the armor that shields you, and your dreams are the wings that let you soar.

In this cosmic dance, you embody a spectrum of hues, and your beloved admires everything about your essence, encompassing green, beige, and even the occasional red flag. You are an enigma with layers that continue to captivate. As you navigate your journey, remember the charm that emanates from your fusion of dreams and self-reliance, as it is casting a spell that keeps your partner forever captivated.

꒰ 🪼 ꒱ؘ ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ𝑃𝑖𝑙𝑒 02

The cards of your destiny: the moon, angel, the aspirant, the runaway

In the tapestry of your future, your beloved finds fascination in your intuitive nature and your profound self-awareness. Your thoughts, akin to twinkling stars, intrigue their curiosity. They are drawn to your emotional transparency, where you fearlessly share your worries and anxieties, offering a glimpse into the depths of your soul.

What truly enchants your future partner is your selflessness, a trait that shines with a brilliance of its own. Your willingness to extend your help without seeking anything in return casts a radiant glow upon your being. You embody a magical essence that radiates empathy and compassion, pulling them into your orbit.

But you're more than an angelic presence; you're a dreamer with aspirations that stretch toward the cosmos. Your ambition and tenacity in pursuing your dreams are evident. Even in the face of challenges, you approach them with open dialogue and a spirit that marches forward undeterred.

The Runaway card, cloaked in mystery, adds a layer of intrigue to your essence. While you're resolute in facing difficulties, there's also a yearning for personal freedom. Your desire to keep certain parts of yourself hidden imparts an air of enigma. This doesn't hinder your ability to connect; rather, it adds a layer of complexity that draws others in.

In your journey, you may momentarily retreat from challenges, but your determination never wavers. Your reliability shines through, especially in supporting others through their tribulations. Your partner is captivated by the unique harmony you embody, a symphony of strength, compassion, and an alluring aura that casts a spell upon their heart

꒰ 🪼 ꒱ؘ ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ𝑃𝑖𝑙𝑒 03

The cards of your destiny: ace of wands, warrior, the heir, the enchanter

Within the enchanting dance of your destined union, your future partner is captivated by the radiant bloom of your creativity. You are a wellspring of inspiration, a vessel brimming with untold possibilities. Like a star yearning to blaze brighter, you embrace growth and new horizons, ensuring that every moment shared is a tapestry of exploration.

In your presence, the strength of galaxies twinkles. Your spouse admires your unwavering fortitude and adeptness, where discipline and unyielding determination harmonize effortlessly. An aura of power surrounds you, untainted by the trappings of ego, allowing you to navigate both your internal landscape and external connections with an elegant grace.

Your self-awareness casts a gentle glow, illuminating both your strengths and vulnerabilities. The Heir card alludes to concealed potential, a treasure trove of abilities awaiting discovery even by you. This interplay between modesty and untapped gifts weaves an enchanting allure that draws your partner closer.

Occasionally, hesitation may cast its delicate shadow upon you. Doubts may cloud your perception of your talents, questioning whether you truly measure up or possess the necessary capability. This humility, coupled with a touch of uncertainty, forms an irresistible magnetism that pulls your partner into your orbit.

In your essence resides the art of transformation, a symphony of alchemy. Your mastery lies in transmuting the mundane into the extraordinary, crafting new dimensions from the threads of everyday life. This isn't manipulation in the conventional sense, but a kind of enchantment that breathes fresh life into situations, relationships, and your artistic pursuits.

Be it as a designer, an artist, or a weaver of light, your innate talent to manipulate and shape scenes entrances your future partner. They're captivated by your ability to reshape perspectives, inviting others to see the world anew through your unique vision.

In their eyes, you shine like constellations in the velvet sky, a mosaic of brilliance. Your creativity, your potential, and your artistic flair are celebrated and cherished. They stand as your most ardent supporter, unwavering in their belief in you. In their gaze, your essence swirls like stardust, a mesmerizing fusion of potential and artistic magic.

© dreamlovetarot 2023 — where every right is held in delicate embrace 🤍 I kindly ask you not to appropriate, replicate, alter, or disseminate my ethereal content.

[drchucktingle]

the parade is starting

you buckaroos are INCREDIBLE. my way is wild and unique and this release week has shown that so is the way of those who trot with me. we are the punk rockers and the underdogs and the dang freaks and we carry the FLAG OF LOVE. we carry the flag of hope and acceptance and joy.

i have always KNOWN our parade was powerful and that our march into mainstream light was inevitable too. with release of camp damascus i have seen this happening in a very visceral way before my eyes and i am SPELLBOUND by the passion for outside art and the acceptance on display

behind the scenes there are numbers flyin back and forth about books and markets and sales and like all stories of the underdog parade you are KICKIN DOWN THE DOORS OF EXPECTATIONS LEFT AND RIGHT blasting radiant love in every corner by supporting unique queer neurodivergent art.

so THANK YOU for this way. from bottom of my heart in most bleedingly sincere tone you can imagine rattling through my bones as I say this: thank you for creating this space for me to express myself and for stepping up and SUPPORTING this space. you have literally saved my life

and the parade is only starting bud CAMP DAMASCUS HAS ONLY BEEN OUT A FEW DAYS. so if you would like to continue this trot with me please keep working your magic. keep posting kind reviews and sharing posts and recommending that your buds come on in and join our unique trot too

because pretty soon this parade isnt gonna be just one line through the city, its gonna be the WHOLE city. its gonna be a dang buckaroo dance party of underdogs as far as the eye can see. and we will all shout at the top of our lungs in a thousand booming voices: LOVE IS REAL

thanks buds. i am so honored to trot with you 

bit.ly/CampDamascus

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

May I ask why you dislike Malleus so much?

[My TWST character tier list is here.]

[For context on why I dislike Malleus: here and here!]

Many of the reasons previously cited above are still applicable presently (though some points may be outdated since those posts were written before book 7). In this post, I will mostly be focusing on why my thoughts on Malleus have not changed despite the new added content of book 7.

I ramble on for a bit, so I put my thoughts below the cut! Ah—but before you read, please be aware that these are my opinions and not meant to be disparaging to any Malleus likers out there.

Me disliking him should not take away any of your joy!! Go out there and love him for me ^^

A lot of the things happening in book 7 were a long time coming, so really I felt as though Malleus finally “losing it” was affirming of all the red flags from before. Since day 1, his loneliness, aloofness, and awkwardness around his peers were key traits of his. What book 7 does is it magnifies the darkest aspects of his character.

We’ve seen several examples when Malleus has fits of rage and his power flares out of control or he at least threatens it. In Glorious Masquerade, he becomes enraged at the realization that the invitation he received was a false one. In A Firelit Sky, he insinuates that he would be upset if people questioned his presence for the trip. He crushes Lilia’s phone in his own Dorm Uniform vignettes, destroying a friend’s belonging because he was upset about not being invited to an occasion. In book 7, we see a flashback of Malleus freezing the whole castle as a child because his grandmother, overtaken by her duties, could no longer dine with him as promised. Malleus’s temper has been a persistent issue since childhood.

We’ve also seen him act callously toward his classmates and misuse magic to force his will upon them. Remember him stopping time during Endless Halloween Night? How he wanted some ghosts to enjoy themselves instead of missing out on being with everyone for the holiday? Now he’s stopping time in book 7 and keeping everyone in their happy dreams forever. Remember how (in his Dorm Uniform vignettes) Malleus thought it would be easier to make the other dorm leaders come to him instead of him coming to them for their meeting? So then he disregards their autonomy and casts magic that’s normally cast on objects on living beings (something which the other dorm leaders take offense to, as it is dehumanizing). He fails to consider their perspective when he returns to Diasomnia (he basically goes, “well, I wouldn’t have been mad if they cast that spell on me!”). Malleus learns nothing from the experience despite Lilia trying to tell him over and over to be more considerate of others and how different they are from him. Now we have Malleus relating his peers to a virtual pet that he never ever wants to leave him.

Malleus can be stubborn and arrogant. He has a very single-minded way of thinking and often does not consider others’ feelings before he makes the decision for them. Malleus can be insecure. He doesn’t even fully realize he is lonely until Yuu suggests it in book 7, but he’s capable of acting on his bouts of intense emotion. He has always had these flaws, and now they are being brought out in full; we’re being forced to confront OB Malleus and all the complicated, twisting feelings of abandonment that come with him.

Let’s make one thing very clear: I don’t take issue with the overblot boys in general; they are meant to be morally grey characters that act in dubious ways. It would be insincere for me to claim “I dislike Malleus because he did bad things!” News flash, many TWST characters have done bad things or at least questionable things that would give you pause. What separates Malleus from the others and makes him egregious enough to earn significant ire from me is the particular actions he takes (which triggers a personal disdain of mine).

Malleus consistently exerts a scary amount of control over others. This is not a new idea; Riddle and Vil are also notorious for being oppressive or controlling, and I’ll be the first to admit that. (You’ll note that those two are low on my tier list too.) The thing is, Riddle and Vil were very overt and open about their demands for obedience. Malleus can be too, but it’s so insidious how he acts within the dreams. He ignores people’s autonomy, gaslights others, and, again, acts like he knows what’s best for them 💀 Other characters have done these things too, but never to the same scale or by exerting this much power. Malleus then resorts to violence when his lies don’t work, even though he’s fully aware of the power disparity between him and his peers. It feels particularly scummy to me because of how Malleus frames his selfish actions and feelings (his wish for Lilia to not leave) as selfless (for the benefit of his peers) and something everyone else would want in order to justify it to himself 💦 I know he is in (or bordering on) overblot so he wasn’t thinking rationally at that point, plus the fact that many examples I listed come from events or vignettes which may not be canon to the main story timeline. Still, there is a concerning pattern of behavior with Malleus misusing his powers or not being considerate of others and failing to grow from those mistakes. You can only go “oopsie” so many times before you harm someone by accident. I expect people to learn their lesson by then and adopt some proper restraint. He keeps claiming his intentions are good as if that’s supposed to dismiss any harm that results from his actions??? No, his actions still harmed people and he has to deal with the consequences of them, not have them hand-waved away or excused. The behavior I’m witnessing is reminiscent of like… having a toxic friend that is constantly told “hey, what you’re doing/saying makes me feel uncomfortable; do you think you could dial it back?” and the friend tells you they’ll try but then never actually changes their behavior or defends their behavior with “I didn’t mean to, so therefore I did not actually harm anyone”.

You can give me a backstory, but a backstory only goes so far as explaining why he is the way he is; it does not excuse him at all. You can say “He’s a fairy! He’s actually a child mentally! He's sheltered!” until the cows come home, but when he relies on magic to quickly fix the problems he caused instead of stopping to genuinely reflect on why people are mad at him, it’s hard for me to sympathize. Because of his immense power and status, the only person that can reasonably hold Malleus accountable is himself, and he has not demonstrated to me that he can do that.

Book 7 is essentially the payoff for allllll the tropes and traits I never liked to begin with coming into fruition. That’s why Malleus has stayed where he is in my TWST character ranking. I did not expect the writing, no matter how good or tear-jerking, to change that. Until Malleus shows that he’s fully apologetic, recognizes the error of his ways, and consciously tries to connect with others and understand their perspectives, he’s staying squarely where he is.

Am I saying a character with flaws is a bad thing? No, absolutely not! Flaws are what make a character interesting, I’m not faulting Malleus or any other characters for having them. Am I saying that he is poorly written? No, I think Malleus is actually quite a complex character and he’s been really fascinating to follow. I love the emotional complexity of book 7–and it was so clever how the devs related his virtual pet to wishing for happily ever afters for people in his real life. This magnitude of danger is also just about what I expect of book 7 and the themes of togetherness that TWST was angling for from the start. But the fact remains unchanged that I perceive his attitude as irritating at best and reprehensible at worst.

My distaste for Malleus is based entirely on my own views and life experiences. The specific flaws Malleus has and how he acts because of them don’t sit well with me and the kinds of things I enjoy in fiction. It’s not anything deeper than that!

[phoward89]

Based on this ask

Academy!Coryo x Academy!Reader

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus is a warning in and of itself. Controlling!Coryo, Mean!Coryo, Dom!Coryo, Obsessed!Coryo, Sassy!Coryo, Drama King!Coryo, Obedient!Reader, Sweet!Reader, Petty!Reader, long hair, haircuts, anger over haircuts, mentions of spankings as punishment, threatening spankings as punishment,

You have very long, silky, shiny hair. It's so long, that it flows down your back and stops right at your butt. Oh, your long hair earned you the nickname Rapunzel from your boyfriend, Coriolanus Snow. In fact, your boyfriend absolutely loves your long hair.

So much so that he has strictly forbidden you to cut it.

Ever!

And you being the sweet, obedient, good girl listens to him. And you listen because you love him. You've been with him for nearly 2 years now, so you've grown used to doing as you're told.

Coryo's a very obsessive, demanding, and sometimes even a bit of a controlling boyfriend. But, he claims that he's that way because he loves you and only wants what's best for you. That he has to protect you; keep you safe.

So…

You overlook some red flags that maybe you shouldn't be turning a blind eye to.

But Coryo's always so sweet and charming to you when you listen to him. When you're his ‘good girl’ he treats you like gold and showers you with compliments.

If your older brother was around instead of serving as an officer in the Peacekeepers he would've done everything in his power to keep you away from your obsessive boyfriend. But, Rein's not here and Coryo is.

And Coryo knows what's best for you because he's the smartest one in your entire Academy class (he's the top student, that's nothing to scoff at) and he loves you. Your boyfriend always makes sure to tell you all the time how much he loves you.

One day, after school, you're at Coriolanus' penthouse. You're in his room, studying for an upcoming history exam. Well, actually you're reading from the textbook while your boyfriend brushes your long, silky hair as the two of you sit on his bed.

“Baby, promise me that you'll never cut your hair.” Coryo interrupts, as you're reading a passage from your history book out loud, while placing the hairbrush on his bedside table. “It's so beautiful long.” He added in, grabbing one of the many rubber bands that he has piled up on his bedside table.

“Okay, I won't cut it.” You tell him, feeling his long lithe fingers make precise motions as he begins to section your hair in order to braid it.

Your boyfriend loves to play with your long hair and braid it. Sometimes in the mornings, before class starts, he'll braid your hair in the courtyard of the Academy while waiting for the bell to ring to signal the start of the school day. And everyone oohs and awes about how lucky you are to have a boyfriend so attentive that he braids your hair for you.

Okay, not everyone oohs and awes. Some of your friends thinks that it's weird. One of your friends, Megara, thinks that it's a bit creepy. But you always tell her that she's wrong, that Coryo likes to braid your hair because he's a very loving and thoughtful boyfriend.

But what people don't know is that Coryo braids your hair for himself because he just loves how your long, silky strands feel in his fingers. He also loves braiding your hair because it feels somewhat calming for him, the repetitive motion of criss-crossing strands of hair is like his personal stress ball.

Okay, so Coriolanus Snow, the top student at the Academy has a thing for long hair on you. It could be worse…

“You better not or else you'll make me very mad and I'll have to punish you.” Your boyfriend, who had a halo full of platinum blonde curls on his head, told you as he braided your hair with ease. Pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, he warns, “You don't want me to punish you for being a bad girl. It wouldn't be very nice.”

“Don't worry, Coryo. I'm not going to cut my hair.” You assured him as his fingers worked their magic, braiding your hair to the point that it was halfway done.

“I love your hair long, Y/N, and it would break my heart if you cut it.” He admits, like he always does when he's playing with and braiding your hair.

Hearing your boyfriend tell you that he loves your long hair sends your heart soaring. It makes you feel happy. Your long hair is very pretty and lots of girls wish that they could grow their hair out to a length such as yours, so hearing Coryo admit that he loves it just puts a smile on your face.

“And I love your platinum blonde curls.” You say right back to Coryo as he finishes up your braid.

“I know, which is why I won't be chopping them off anytime soon, baby.” Your boyfriend cheekily says while tying the end of your braid with a rubber band. Coryo tossed your braid over your shoulder while announcing, “There you go. All done, Rapunzel.”

He kissed you on the head once more before reaching to take the textbook from your hands. “I'll finishing reading, then we can make up some flashcards.”

“Okay.” You simply nod, leaning back to rest against your boyfriend's chest.

And you wholeheartedly intended on keeping your promise to him about never cutting your hair, Or at least you did until one day his sassiness made your surpressed pettiness come out to play.

“Maybe she has more important things to do then sitting around at home, waiting for her pathetic and poorly dressed friend to call.” Coryo sassily sneered at your friend, Megara, who was not a part of the popular crowd (the crowd of rich kids and heirs that Coriolanus Snow socialized with; the crowd you've been around more and more as of lately too), instead of letting you answer your friends question about why you didn't answer her call the night before.

“Coryo…” You sigh disappointedly. “Don't say that to my friend, it's mean.” You scold him as your friend shoots him a dirty look.

“You're just figuring out that he's mean now?” Megara asked, giving you a look of disbelief, while at the exact same time Coryo snidely smirked, “Sometimes the truth hurts, darling.”

“Coryo, she's my friend and I don't like how you're being rude to her.” You told your boyfriend. “Please, apologize to her.” You add, pouting.

“I'm not being rude to her, darling.” Coriolanus defended his horrible behavior towards your childhood friend. “And I'm not apologizing to some insolent girl who can't handle hearing the truth when it's spoken.”

“Cor-” You began to say, only for your boyfriend to drag you away from your friend while hissing sharply in your ear, “Don’t you even try to Coryo me, Y/N. Your friend's a piece of shit unworthy of being on the bottom of our shoes, so just keep your mouth shut and follow my lead when I'm saving you from social suicide.”

“All Megara did was ask why I didn't take her call last night and you were rude about it. You wouldn't even let me tell her that I was at your penthouse studying.” You told Coryo as he stormed (in a bit of a strut) down the hallway, clutching your arm and making you go with him down the hallway

“We’ve been together for 2 years, baby. Where the hell does that peasant think you're at if you're not home answering the damn phone?” The platinum blonde boy sneered, his voice deep and edgy, as he dragged you towards the courtyard that his friends were usually crowded in.

Your voice, that's usually so sweet and soft, is firm and snappy as you order your boyfriend, “Don’t call my friend a peasant, Coryo.” And that wasn't enough. No, you gave Coriolanus Snow a much needed reality check. “You might be from the esteemed Snow family, but you're as poor as a church mouse.”

The imposing tall boy with icy blue eyes stopped dead in his tracks and shoved his face dangerously close to yours, only to snarl, “Don't you ever say such things about the Snow family where somebody might overhear, you dumb bitch.” The nerves in his face twitched and his once light eyes turned midnight with hate as he cruelly told you, “You're being such a dumb bitch right now instead of my sweet, good girl. It seems that your friend's a bad influence on you; is turning you into a brainless cunt.”

Shaking his head to clear his mind from the rage he's feeling, Coriolanus orders, “You're not to have anything to do with Megara every again.” Taking your hand in his, only to continue to lead you towards the courtyard towards his snotty click, he says, "You'll hang around my friends for now on.” Looking down at you, much like a parents does to a naughty child they're reprimanding, he asks, “Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal.” Is the single word that you utter, causing Coryo to smile. One that's too wide and victorious for the matter at hand.

Coryo's malicious words hit you hard. They really hurt you; break your heart. For the last couple of years he was so loving to you. You're the perfect girlfriend to him; you're sweet and obedient. You never question him; always listen to him.

But not anymore.

No…

If he wants to treat you like shit all because you stuck up for your friend; for your own opinion, then so be it. But you're going to hurt him back.

And you know just the way to do it.

After school Coriolanus walked you home and then went to his penthouse. He was still a bit upset with you and was punishing your bratty behavior by not spending any time with you after school. He gave you the line of, “Believe me, Rapunzel, not spending time with you hurts me more than it hurts you. But, you need to be punished to learn your lesson for what you did wrong today.”

But you didn't care. You made up your mind while he dragged you into the courtyard this morning to hang out with his snobby friends that you're going to get back at him for hurting you by getting your haircut. You know it'll hurt him, seeing you with your haircut, and right now you want him to feel as hollow inside as you do.

So, you go to a salon that's around the corner from your apartment with some money you grabbed from your family's rainy day jar. When the hairstylist brings you back to his station and asks you what you want to do with your hair, you tell him in an unmoving tone, “Cut my hair as short as you can.”

And he does. The hairstylist, Fabian, works his magic on you; gives you a bob. A bob that accentuates your face shape perfectly. The cut even brings a new life to your hair, making it look fuller. The bob even compliments your hair color as well.

You absolutely adore your new haircut. Your mother even paid you a nice compliment on it, which made you smile. She never hands out compliments, so you must look great for her to give you one.

Due to your fight with Coryo the night before, you walk by yourself to school. A part of you is disappointed that you'll have to wait until seeing him at the Academy to show him that you broke his one rule for you. You're still upset with him; you want to show him that you defied him in the hopes that his face will fall and he'll feel sad about not being able to play with your long locks ever again.

When you walk into the Academy everyone stops and stares at you. Everyone, absolutely everyone, is so shocked to see you rocking a bob. You look great with the new hair

But everyone in the school knows that the moment your boyfriend sees it that all hell's gonna break loose.

You walk up to your locker, only to see Coryo’s tall, lanky form leaning against the red metal storage unit. It's clear that he's waiting for you.

But as soon as his baby blues see you, or more specifically your bob, he locks his jaw and shakes his head. Coryo's lush lips puckered, as if he'd eaten something sour, as he brokenly spat, “Your hair…you cut off all of your hair, Rapunzel.”

“Yea.” You smile, only to pettily say, “I know that you prefer it long, but I decided it was time for a change.” Patting your new hair, you add in, “My new stylist at the salon says that I have the perfect features to rock a bob.”

“You wanted a change and decided to chop off all of your hair?” Your boyfriend incredulously asks, his voice a deep scoff. “You couldn't have gotten a blowout or a perm? You just had to cut your hair as short as mine?” Coryo loudly barks as you unlock your locker.

“Cor-” You begin, grabbing your books, only for Coriolanus to cut you off loudly with, “Don’t you fucking dare try to justify your new bob, Y/N.”

You barely had time to place your books into your satchel before Coriolanus is slamming your locker shut while dramatically ranting, “You promised me that you'd never ever cut your hair, but you cut it. You cut it all off even tho you promised not to do it.” His icy eyes shine with heartbreak as he reaches his large hand out to stroke your short bouncy locks that frame your jawline. “You didn't even think about me when you got your bob; didn't care that I love playing with your long hair and braiding it.”

“Coryo…” You heavily sigh. His words cut right thru your petty attitude, just like the way a butter knife cuts butter. Now you feel guilty about your rash decision. But there's no taking it back now, what's done is done. “I'm sorry that I broke my promise to you; I didn't mean to, but I just felt like I needed a new look.”

Shaking his head, causing his halo of light golden curls to rustle around, Coryo mournfully snarls, “But I think you truly did mean to break your promise, Y/N. And I think you were petty enough to break it all because of a fight we had over your pathetic friend.”

Oh shit…he hit the nail on the head. And by the gasp you let out paired with the stricken look on your face.

“I can't believe you broke your promise to be and hacked off all of your beautiful hair all because of a disagreement about your stupid friend. A friend, might I add, that I don't approve of.” Coriolanus loudly huffed, causing the nearby students to stop and stare and the scene unfolding. “You're such a petty little bitch doing that to me when I've been nothing but good to you.”

“Cor-” You started, but the apology died on your tongue whenever he shoved you into your locker, only to tower over you and sneer, “I was a loyal, loving boyfriend that only asked one damn thing from you. I only had you promise not to cut your hair, while other boys would give you a laundry list of things you couldn't do.” His prominent nose pressed into your hair as he took in its smell. A smell that no longer was the freshness of wildflowers, but now was replaced with a lemongrass scent.

A foreign scent to go with a foreign length of hair.

Bringing his lips to your ear, his hot breath fans the side of your face as he lowly, but darkly promises you, “We've been together so long that I'm not going to get rid of you for your broken, but I will be giving you a few spanking for your petty, rebellious behavior.”

“Spankings?...” You trail off, your brows knitted in disbelief. You're 18, not 8. A spanking at your age, and by your boyfriend, is unheard of.

Isn't it?

Coriolanus pulled his face away from your ear, only to nod, “Yes, your punishment will be spankings after school.” Taking your hand in his, he explained, “You can choose whether we do it at my place or yours and what I use: hairbrush or my palm.”

“But-” You tried to reason with him, only to be cut off by your boyfriend's stern, deep baritone telling you, “No buts, baby. You're the one that broke your promise about cutting your hair; knew that I'd punish you for it.”

After your punishment, 4 spankings with the palm of Coryo's hand, he slowly got used to your short hair. He didn't like your bob, but he wasn't going to let it ruin your 2 year relationship. He did make snide remarks every so often about how he prefers you with long hair, how he misses your ‘old’ hair, etc.

Cutting your long, silky locks has been a test of your relationship. So far, you and Coryo are passing.

But what'll happen when reaping day comes around and your boyfriend gets assigned to mentor a girl from 12- a girl with long, dark waves of soft hair that cascades like a waterfall past her shoulder? Only the gods know the answer to that question. And the answer shall be revealed in due time.

But right now you and Coryo have to deal with the aftermath of your petty, spur of the moment haircut. A bob that you rock the hell out of like no other.

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @harvey-malfoy @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons @tempt-ress

[lvckyyz]

hiii!!! your headcanons about gods as parents are amazing!! i really liked it :>

so could you do aphrodite, poseidon and maybe nike? thank you so much <33

godly parent V

the gods’ relationship with their children

aphrodite who is always trying to help her children feel good with their bodies and personalities

aphrodite who teaches her kids to have emotional responsiveness

aphrodite who found a way to talk to her children through mirrors and chat with them everyday

aphrodite who has always told her kids that love should be a magical feeling and not something that’s going to hurt them

aphrodite who keeps calling her children “babies” even if they’re already adults

aphrodite who cries because she could never hold her kids or play with them when they were little

aphrodite who forgets completely that she’s a goddess whenever one of her kids starts liking someone and starts acting like a teenage girl

aphrodite who gets offended when one of kids are not feeling pretty one day

poseidon who always takes his kids to the beach before he has to leave after they were born

poseidon who has to be hold back by zeus whenever someone hurts one of his children

poseidon who tries his best to not show his emotions but can’t help but smile when he sees his kids

poseidon who interrupted an meeting with zeus and hades because one of his kids was calling him

poseidon who pretends to be a human just see his kids more closely

poseidon who accidentally made an earthquake when cabin 3 lost an important competition

poseidon who gets caught by other gods smiling while looking at his kids’ baby pictures

poseidon who started disliking being part of the big three because it doesn’t let him be close to cabin 3

nike who is cabin 17’s biggest fan

nike who teases the other gods by saying her children are better then theirs

nike who hugs her kids tightly every time they visit her in the olympus

nike who once went to camp half blood just to discuss the results of a capture the flag game, because she couldn’t believe that her kids lost

nike who teaches her children that luck will never win against hard work and dedication

nike who would spend hours talking about how talented her kids with athena

nike who does a little victory dance whenever cabin 17 win something

⤷ author’s note:

thank youu!!

guys i think i’ll stop accepting requests for this kind of hcs soon, so if anyone has an specific god you want, pls let me know!☺️

[peachsayshi]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ when gojo has a crush on geto's childhood best friend

minors / ageless / blank blogs dni

ೃ⁀➷ notes: a little match up break because this has been running through mind all day & it was inspired by this fun quiz! my baby boy is so sweet and sincere when he's love, even though it's doesn't always come across that way x

ೃ⁀➷ tags: angst and fluff; unrequited(ish) love; pining wc: 970

♡ satoru's heart races when suguru introduces you to him for the very first time. of course, he's dated before but those were fleeting. the ones who came into his world swiftly left because he was too "emotionally unavailable" and "never made enough time". he wonders if his infatuation hit him this hard, and struck him this deeply to the point where it actually rendered him speechless, or if this sudden problem is simply because of you.

♡ my goodness, you're pretty. so, so pretty that he can't stop blushing. that he stumbles over his words and says the wrong thing. that he can't stop walking into doors and knocking over glasses. he can't compose himself and winds up coming across as a complete and utter fool. how is he supposed to keep an even keel when at the slightest look you manage to throw him off center?

♡ suguru eventually tells him that you were both neighbors, your families very good friends, and that you used to have sleepovers every weekend which have made you both inseparable ever since. he shares his memories with little anecdotes about you, but he pays attention to the intrigue in satoru's eyes. geto is extremely protective of you and warns his friend not to mess around. "satoru, she's just as important to me as you are," he lectures, "and I won't hesitate to kick your ass if you try and mess around with her". satoru raises his hand in surrender, and stammers out promises that his inquiries are completely Innocent.

♡ you don't take to him so quickly, but satoru insists that it's okay. he thinks it will all change once you get to know him a little bit better, but in the process of proving something to you, he can't seem to stop himself from falling for you. every interaction results in him crawling back to suguru for some guidance on how he can work his magic to win you over. "I just...I just want us to get along..." he murmurs, like a sad little puppy licking his wounds.

♡ at first, geto takes it all with a grain of salt. this isn't the first time a guy has tried to worm their way into your heart, and he isn't surprised that his own best friend would be so taken by you. over time he starts realizing just how serious it is for satoru. how failures on his part to earn your affection results in him wallowing in sadness and pouting with frustration. "you really like her, don't you?" he confronts one night, and to his surprise his best friend simply sighs in defeat as he gazes longingly into the distance. "yeah, I really do..."

♡ geto watches satoru go to extraordinary lengths just to impress you. an idiot in love, he thinks with a smile, but one whose heart is truly worthy of yours. he doesn't step in satoru's way, and offers his assistance wherever he can. he plays matchmaker on the side - removing himself from scenarios in the hopes that quality time can bring you both closer together. he notes all of satoru's gestures: like when he pre orders your favorite drinks so it's ready by the time you arrive, or how he sifts through the compilation of information that he's memorized about you to find you the "perfect" presents, and that he is always the first to jump at your every beck and call.

♡ and satoru...can see it's working; you no longer regard him with disapproving eyes, have dropped your reservations and allowed the most vulnerable parts of you to flourish with him around. he makes you laugh, and it's like walking out of a battle carrying a victory flag. he sees you inching closer when you both sit together, and his heart is so ready to leap out of his own chest just to rest comfortably on your lap. you actually enjoy his company, and he can tell because you both spend a lot more time together without suguru around...

♡ satoru is trying is best, and he thinks he's doing great. "I'm going to tell her tonight," he informs suguru - his cheeks so pink and his smile stretching from ear to ear that suguru thinks it might stay that way permanently. the two of them glance over to you speaking with shoko and utahime, and suguru sweetly pats him on the shoulder before grinning softly in his direction. "go for it," he encourages, "you've been holding out for so long, I think its about time"

♡ satoru approaches you - his palms clammy, his heart racing so fast that it makes him a little dizzy.

♡ but...you don't notice that he and suguru are just within your reach when you let the following confession slip: "satoru is really sweet, but...he's not my type..."

♡ his world stops there.

♡ there's a catch in his throat, and his cheeks turn about five shades of crimson as the three of you turn around to face the interruption of him and geto approaching. you're taken aback by his presence, and he can practically see the shock washing over you, but before you can say anything else he quickly excuses himself and heads outside.

♡ oh, he feels lightheaded, so much so that he needs to sit down. long legs collapse onto the front steps just outside the door and he's struggling to catch his breath. his chest is tight, the stretch extending from his torso down to the discomforting knot in the pit of his stomach. his face is hot with embarrassment, and tears prick his eyes as your words ring around his head in taunting failure.

♡ but you're perfect to me, he thinks with a slight upturn of his brows. you're all I ever wanted.

ೃ⁀➷ part two will be from the reader's pov. ps - im gonna squish this boy with so much love, I swear :ccc

[ystrike1]

In the Doghouse - By Jusang (8/10)

The perfect prince wants to be punished! Our protagonist is a practical, poor noblewoman from a family of idiots. Her mother is a has-been. Her father is a dunce. Her brother gambles. Her older sister had a baby out of wedlock. She's doomed. Ready to live life as a barmaid, but then the Prince proposes. He's a huge fan of her (cruelty).

Courtney Devon comes from the bad side of a good family. Her fat and vain mother used to be the belle of the ball...and she just won't let it go...

It's embarrassing. You feel embarrassed for her. Her mother keeps buying frivolous and fashionable magic items...when they don't even have enough cash for a butler....

Courtney Devon screams at her pathetic mother, and the other party guests. She openly admits she has no cash, on purpose. Her parents are delusional. They just keep spending. Her vicious attack is one last desperate plea.

Stop fleecing my family.

We have no wool left.

Oh yes. She despises her noble peers for leading on her idiot family, and laughing at their ruin. She just can't ask nicely.

She has to rage.

She is always alone. The story does a great job of portraying her loneliness. Courtney Devon lashes out. She's rude. She feels no loyalty to her family, but sadly her rage is justified....but that doesn’t mean people will like it. The other nobles avoid her like the plague and despite her beauty no one has proposed.

It's lonely.

It's sad.

She wants to run, but she stays.

Why?

It's all for Eddy. Her sweet nephew. The child did nothing wrong. Courtney Devon knows that if she leaves no one will be able to scare the loan sharks away. Poor Eddy will lose his ancestral title, and he'll be left with an unreliable family...all alone.

She just can't do that to a child.

She lived through it, so she decides to force her family to sell their crumbling estate...

They are against it. Of course they are. Mommy dearest can't possibly live in the countryside!!! She has to go to her parties!!! Brother dearest can't live like a hick!! How will he continue to gamble his life away??? Sister dearest can't leave the big city!!! She's s-s-scared of poor people (even though she is one)!!!

Yes, they are the most annoying people in the world.

Brother dearest brings home more debt.

Too much.

Selling the estate won't cover it anymore.

Suddenly, the Prince proposes.

What a coincidence.

He does it the day after her finances are truly f***ed and unfixable.

The perfect Prince, Richard, is in love with her cruelty. He wants her to yell and scream at him. To shame him for speaking. To kick him aside and call him a fool.

Yes, he's a masochistic freak.

A pretty big one, who needs to keep his freak flag on the down low.

He does actually care about his kingdom after all. Courtney Devon is perfect. She can satisfy his disgusting needs, and she has to keep quiet...or poor dear Eddy won't have two coins to rub together when he grows up.

It's a twisted situation.

Courtney Devon gives him what he wants. What he planned to get from her, no matter what. He's been fawning over her rage like a simpering fan boy, and it enrages her.

Her painful, shameful existence turned on someone’s fetish.

It really is enraging.

[midheavenastrology]

🎉🧁Super rando 🎉🧁Astro Observations 🎉🧁

🍥I do not recommend dating someone who has ur chiron sign- in one way or another they will hurt you unconsciously and trigger you 😔😔😭😓🫣of course this is good in a way because all trauma is meant to be healed ❤️‍🩹🩺🩻but you have to be with someone who is conscious of the hurt they are causing. The chiron person is only really meant to surface these hurts not heal them. Think about it: ur chiron sign is literally embodying the wound that u have so to date that sign is like dating a walking red flag 🚩

🍥People with prominent Jupiter aspects to their ascendant, sun, midheaven will naturally just emit light ! ✨🌞🌻 u shine ! U so sparkle ! Jupiter expands anything it touches, so imagine having sun 🌞 aspecting Jupiter: big energy, big beam of light !!! They also have the loudest, biggest laughs lmao- this is me and everyone always tells me they love how much I laugh at everything/have the biggest guffaw- sound like a dang donkey🐴 sometimes srry not srry 🥲🥲🥲

🍥Someone with a lot of mutable placements absolutely needs fixed energy to ground and stabilize them 😇🥺when it comes to synastry. Especially when it comes to moon sign compatibility. Mutable moons are legit the most moody 🌝😩🌚Cardinal can work too but sometimes feelings will burn out quickly 🐒🔥🌪️💦

🍥However with that said: have y’all ever dated ur opposite moon sign ??? Because that sh*ts fire 🔥

🍥Be careful who you meet romantically during mars or Venus retrograde ⏪⏮️these are past lovers that come back to try sumthin, sumthin out again. Like I went on a dating app 🤪during mars ☄️retrograde and had a super casual fling that burned out super quickly💥💥💥but not with some big lessons. The seggs will be ahmazing because youve fucked around before lol 🍌✨ are the lessons worth it tho, who knos 🥲

🍥Libra and Taurus placements will always be attractive ! trust ! Venus blesses them in some way or another 🌸💅🧖‍♀️ pretty privilege y’all ✨Scorpio and Aries placements will always be sessy, trust ! mars gives them sexy privilege 🍌🍆🌶️ if u got both in ur big three, boy r u trouble 😈

🍥I read somewhere that when you’re embodying your true soul essence you take on ur vedic/sidereal placements: literally have been feelin my triple fire 🔥 placement in vedic ! 😬🌶️🔥

🍥Neptune+mercury placements ….you literally manifest when you speak so be careful what u wish for 🫶 it’s because Neptune: higher spiritual plane, angels 👼, ancestors and then mercury: communication: u are literally speaking to angels mmkay 🥲✨🫶

🍥If you lack fire 🔥 in ur chart, u tend to run V cold 🥶 like ur probs the friend who has cold hands and feet constantly ! Me 🙋‍♀️

🍥Too much mercury in ur chart or air placements can make u constantly in ur head: like u can’t detach ur mind from ur body and soul. It’s gonna be hard 4 u to meditate 🧘‍♀️ tbh. I recommend breath work 4 y’all, so u can get more in tune with ur body/or working out, running, moving ur body 🕺💃🏃‍♀️🏋️‍♀️🤹‍♀️

🍥biggest flirt placements of the zodiac goes to Aries, Gemini, Libra and Sagittarius- if u have all four shidddd…I hope ur significant other is ok 🥲 honorable mention: Pisces (but it’s cus we fall in love like 5 times a day…doesn’t mean we actually know how to flirt tho..we’re just sweet lovers by nature) Aries, Gemini, libra and Sag are the ultimate smooth talkers of the zodiac 🥵

🍥biggest non flirts of the zodiac goes to Capricorn, Virgo, Scorpio, Taurus. Ur flirting style is basically being mean, uninterested or cold. Earth+ Scorpio is very self contained, they like to keep it together and flirting feels stupid and petty. When in a mood, they don’t want to talk to anyone unless there’s a reason for it..like what do u want ? Tell me what u want, set a date and make a plan. Also lez be real: their main love is cash money 🤑

That’s all y’all 🍭🎨🤹‍♀️🤹‍♀️🤹‍♀️🤹‍♀️💅💅💅💅💅☎️☎️☎️☎️☎️☎️🧋🧋🧋🧋🧋🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞🌞

Hope y’all have a magical day 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

Thanks for reading+scoping !! 🥰