#I feel that I am the kind of guy who connects in a profound and involuntary way with certain things and just can't help it

[jc-martin-og]

Does anyone else have "that" film that you only saw once in a moment of emotional instability, and you haven't been able to rewatch it again since you know it will be like reliving it all over again?

Am I the only weirdo who's gone through that kind of connections?

[bestlilithian]

My experiences with synastry

8th house synastry

By far, my favorite. Intense, transcendal, deep. It goes beyond the physical and mental, reaches straight into your soul. The sexual tension is palpable, and at the same time it feels like home.

( do note that i have pluto influencing my ic and moon so your and my idea of 'home' might be a bit different ♡ lmao )

Moon in 8th house:

- absolute favorite. the connection runs deep, if you let it. when you meet this person you will know pretty early on that the potentional for intense bonding is immense. for every person i met with this, after a while i look in their eyes and think 'we could absolutely ruin eachother in the best way possible'.

- the sexual tension breaches the physical and turns almost emotional. like, 'i want to fuck you so hard that you cry' type shit. of course, every 8th house connection has some kind of sexual electricity constantly present, but i've found that w this placement, it's .. profound.

- so far , i've only been the house person, and i've found that the way the moon person looks at me is like nothing i've seen before. i mean, the eye contact being intense is a given w any 8th overlay but w this one it's ... wow. it's a simultaneous pleading to 'come closer, enter my world, feel my essence' and a threat to 'stay away, you see to far into me, you know too much'.

- it's obsessive. on my side (house) at least. by obsessive i mean ... obsessive. one of them is a crush that i haven't been able to put out for a fucking year, even with no contact. in fact, funnily enough, when i thought i was totally over it, all it took was to see her again and make eye contact - immediately, i was thrown for a loop. we didn't even exchange words directly, it was a group setting .. but the eye contact was absolutely enough. crazy.

- as the house person, i feel like the moon person can feel that i see straight through them. another thing i've noticed is that the moon person usually seems a little intimidated/nervous around me, especially at first.

- the thing with this overlay is that it can get hard to take real action on the connection because it's anything but lighthearted. you can clearly tell that if you pursue it, it's gonna get deep and that can range from inconvenient to uncomfortable, or even scary for someone who's not used to 8th house/pluto/scorpio energy.

Lilith in 8th house

- the sexual tension. is. insane. i'm talking .. concerning. i've had this w a friend, a guy who's not my type in the slightest (and i dont really like guys in general, mind you), but there's this kind of ... sexual energy in the air. like, we're not gonna do anything about it, but it's there. and it's not even physical, for me at least - i dont find him attractive physically its just .. a compulsive feeling.

- now, when i have it w someone i actually find attractive, even a little bit, it gets scaled up to the extreme. the moment i see this person, i'm immediately attracted to them. instant. they don't even have to be my type, but if they are - my god, if they are ...

- i am usually lilith in this overlay, and i often find myself wanting to corrupt the house person, to pull them into my dark erotic world. this synastry really brings out my lilith energy even more.

- as lilith i love teasing the house person & i want to see them squirm. i wanna dominate them & see them fall apart beneath me (in the best way possible)

- this is very much a 'i can ruin them' type connection (not in a malicious way)

- i automatically feel confident around this person, no matter if i felt insecure the rest of the day; its like the house person awakens my dark feminine energy just w their presence (and thats a damn good feeling)

Sun & Mercury in 8th house

- honestly this ones interesting; if your connection is platonic, it wont add weird undertones, if its not , it will heighten the attraction significantly.

- it will be really easy and satisfying to talk about your secrets, your past, your traumas, your pain, as well as your kinks, sexual preferences & sexual experiences w this person.

- you will be able to tell this person the naked, blunt truth about them to their face, and vice versa, esp eith mercury in 8th overlay

sun conjunct lilith

- i was lilith and its .. fun. sun brings out my 'bad' side. the fun one.

- as lilith, i find sun really cute, and i try to figure them out, cause i feel like they arent really as naive & innocent as they seem to be.

- sun may be a little scared of lilith here. :)

pluto conjunct lilith

- i have yet to experience this but from what i've heard i love, love, love .

- think bonnie n clyde, mr and mrs smith. they can appreciate eachothers shadow and its very exciting

- hearsay says the sex is mindblowing but i cant confirm or deny

pluto conjunct ascendant

- my mothers pluto is conjunct my ascendant and she literally fucked me up royally soo be careful w this one yall

- pluto will try to control the ascendant and have power over them

- pluto tries to control ascendants behavior, appearance, mannerisms, social etiquett, even food intake sometimes

- i have never seen this be a healthy dynamic but i would love to be proven wrong

lilith square ascendant

every time a man's lilith squares my ascendant, an angel dies. i swear to fucking god, this synastry is a hot, headache-inducing mess.

now, ive only ever had this with men so take it w a grain of salt.

whenever a mans lilith squared my ascendant, the situation was the same:

he had a crush, and then there was .. me. he loved one girl, truly, but had an intense, weird, sexual obsession with me (that often scared him).

he was extremely attracted to me, but reluctant to admit it directly. wanted to 'tame' me, make me 'well-behaved'. we argued at least once within 24h of knowing eachother.

heavy sexual tension, but in a irritating, conflicting way. reallyy intense eye contact, but almost forbidden.

they all, at some point, iced me out in one way or another, deliberately avoided me, seemingly for no reason.

lilith in 7th house

this ones weird.

- we kinda have beef, but not really

- we either completely agree with eachother or utterly disagree

- mixed feelings

- switching between liking and disliking eachother

- sexual tension, but in an annoying way

[claramelooo]

CRIMSON REVERIE

Hey guys! It's all crazy and to top it off I'm still sick, I'm getting better thanks to teas and Advil. But here I am...

Enjoy it! <3

MINORS DO NOT MUST INTERACT

Pairing: Dark!Witch Wanda x Fem Reader

Warning: +18, smut, anal play, impregnation fetish, degradation, jealousy Wanda

Summary: You find out what happens when you're pushed to the limit

Hey. Now I've a masterlist

SHINE

Morning arrived gently, like a whisper only the skin could hear. Light filtered through the curtains, painting shadows and shapes in golden tones across the rumpled sheets. The room smelled of warmth, a faint floral perfume, and something unmistakably Wanda.

Your body was still wrapped in the haze of sleep, but awareness began to surface in waves, carrying with it the presence of the woman beside you. A barefoot touch grazed yours, warm and subtle, as if seeking something more profound than a simple connection: a silent promise of closeness.

Wanda’s nose brushed the curve of your neck, a simple yet devastating gesture. You could feel her rhythmic, tranquil breath, spreading like a caress across your skin. The soft texture of the sheets contrasted with the comforting weight of her arm draped over your waist, holding you as if fearing the dawn might steal the privilege of having you there.

It was in these quiet moments that everything felt different. The lightness that love brought wasn’t an escape but a new weight—one you carried gladly. The fine line between what was her and what was you seemed to blur, like the light filtering through the curtains, merging day and night.

Wanda shifted slightly, pressing her lips to the space between your neck and shoulder—a kiss that felt like a signature on your skin, a reminder that you belonged to her.

You opened your eyes slowly, feeling the warmth of your breath against the pillow. “Are you awake?” you murmured, your voice rough from sleep.

“Maybe,” came the whispered, humor-laden response, her tone magnetic as ever.

You smiled, your heart skipping a beat. “Staring at me again?”

“As if it’s a crime,” Wanda replied, her fingers trailing lightly along your waist—delicate but firm.

“Flirting with me before eight in the morning,” you teased, turning in bed to face her. Your eyes met hers—green like a sunlit meadow.

“I’m entitled,” she said, leaning closer. The gentle touch of your noses was followed by the soft pressure of her lips against yours, a kiss that held everything: the tenderness of the night, the warmth of the day, and the promise of everything to come.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the sweet aroma of bread toasting in the kitchen as you assembled the twins’ lunches at the counter. Tommy and Billy sat at the table, eyes still half-closed, already bickering over who could finish the orange juice first.

Wanda entered the kitchen, her hair slightly tousled, with an expression of pure morning laziness that only made her more irresistible. You felt her presence before you saw her—a warmth that seemed to fill the room.

“What’s your plan for the day, professor?” you asked, a playful smile on your lips as you spread butter on Billy’s toast.

She leaned against the counter, arms crossed, her eyes sparkling with a kind of intimacy that made the world feel closer. “The usual,” she said with a dramatic sigh. “It’s so dull going to work and not seeing your face. Did you know I only took that job to see you?”

You laughed, stepping closer with an intentionally loaded look. “Miss intimidating me in your office?”

Her voice turned naturally seductive as she leaned just slightly toward you. “You have no idea how much.”

Her hand rose to gently brush a loose strand of hair from your forehead, her fingers moving with calculated tenderness. There was an electric charge in the exchange, a tension that seemed to absorb even the muffled laughter of the twins in the background.

“Eww! No kissing!” Tommy interrupted with exaggerated indignation, making Billy burst into laughter.

You and Wanda pulled back with knowing smiles, though the playful glint in her eyes was impossible to ignore.

“Ah, puberty...” Wanda sighed, feigning resignation as she turned to the boys.

“Mom, don’t tell me you never thought it was gross when your parents kissed,” Tommy shot back with a grimace.

Wanda arched an eyebrow, already prepared with a sharp retort. “Of course, I did. But look at me—I survived. Love doesn’t kill, Tommy. Neither does a little romance.”

“Maybe boredom does,” Billy added, laughing and earning a high-five from his brother.

You watched the scene with a serene smile, handing the finished lunches to the boys. “Come on, eat quickly. You’re almost late,” you said, though your voice carried the lightness of someone who was home.

As the boys dashed off to grab their backpacks, Wanda turned her gaze to you, the earlier intensity returning.

“One day, they’ll understand,” she said softly, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

“If they don’t, oh well,” you teased, smiling as you returned the affection. “They’ll have to deal with it, because, sorry, I’m addicted to you.”

Wanda laughed, the sound light and filled with a love that made the day begin just right. “And I’m addicted to you,” she whispered as the boys’ hurried footsteps echoed through the house.

The clock read 10:37 AM when you finally found a moment to pause at work. The teacher’s lounge was quiet, except for the soft clicking of keys in the background. The air smelled of stale coffee, and you took the opportunity to pour yourself a cup. The morning had been intense but rewarding—your students were finally beginning to grasp Whitman’s poetry.

You were about to sit down when Maria Hill walked in. Her deliberate, measured steps immediately drew your attention. The last time you crossed paths had been during a board meeting, and even then, you exchanged little more than a formal nod. Today, however, she seemed determined to speak with you.

"Professor," she began, her voice carrying a casual tone that felt too practiced to be genuine. "It seems your class is one of the most talked about this semester."

You looked up, studying her face. There was something difficult to decipher there—a contrast between professional composure and something far more personal.

"I'm just trying to keep things interesting," you replied with a polite smile, doing your best to ignore the faint unease her presence stirred within you.

Maria leaned against the counter, arms crossed in a posture that appeared relaxed, though her gaze remained fixed on you, observing every detail. "Interesting is an understatement. Some teachers spend years trying to make that kind of impact."

You knew it was a compliment, but the way she said it sounded... odd. As if there were layers beneath her words that remained unspoken.

"It's part of the job," you said, keeping your tone neutral.

Maria smiled—a small, enigmatic expression that hinted at something veiled beneath the surface. "Have you always been like this? Passionate about what you do?"

The question caught you off guard. Before you could answer, her eyes narrowed slightly, as though analyzing more than just your words.

"Are you asking if I’ve always wanted to teach?" you asked, attempting to diffuse the tension.

"Not exactly," Maria said, her tone lowering, becoming softer. "I mean... have you always been like this? Strong? Resilient?"

You paused, feeling the weight of her question. The way she spoke stirred old memories—ones you preferred to keep buried. Times when you had no choice but to be strong, to endure, to survive.

Before you could respond, Maria pressed on, her voice dropping to a near-whisper, but carrying an emotional weight that felt more personal than professional. "Not everyone can turn the scars of their past into something... powerful."

"Do you have kids?" you asked abruptly, steering the conversation away from uncomfortable territory.

"Two," you answered, a softer expression crossing your face as you thought of Billy and Tommy. Just the thought of them brought a brief, calming reprieve.

"They’re lucky," Maria murmured, her voice gentle but with an undercurrent of something more complex. "Lucky to have someone like you looking out for them."

“Your husband must be proud,” she added, the statement sounding casual, though her eyes watched you intently, studying your reaction with what could only be described as calculated curiosity.

"I'm not… married to a man," you replied evenly, though you felt a warmth creeping up your neck at the subtle shift in the conversation.

Maria tilted her head slightly, absorbing your words with a careful consideration. A faint smile touched her lips—not one of surprise, but of quiet understanding, as if you’d just confirmed something she’d long suspected.

"Not married to a man," she repeated slowly, each word deliberate, precise. "Interesting."

The weight of her gaze was palpable, almost tangible, like an invisible pressure pressing against you. Her eyes never wavered, and the intensity of her scrutiny made it hard to breathe.

"And your wife… or partner?" Maria continued, her voice dropping to a lower register, each word laden with significance. "Does she understand who you are? Everything you’ve been through?"

You took a step back, feeling an all-too-familiar tightness in your chest. Maria had a way of asking questions that cut deeper than they should, as though she could peel back layers of your soul with little more than a glance. Whether she intended to or not, it left you feeling exposed.

"She understands what matters," you said firmly, striving to maintain your composure. "And that’s enough."

Maria took a step closer, and the air around you seemed to shift. There was nothing overtly threatening about the movement, yet her proximity felt overwhelming, as though each step carried an unspoken intent. Her presence was suffocating, each motion precise, calculated to unsettle you.

"Does she?" Maria murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "Because I remember a version of you who didn’t have anyone. Who was alone. Vulnerable. And I wonder…"

Her words trailed off, but the impact lingered, each syllable like a key turning in a lock you desperately wanted to keep shut.

"I wonder if that part of you still exists," she continued softly, her tone almost gentle, yet with an undercurrent of sharpness, like a blade hidden beneath velvet. "If there’s still something inside you that misses it—being pushed. Being tested. Being forced to the edge."

Her proximity was unbearable, her warmth pressing against you like a physical force. Her voice, low and steady, seemed to sink into your bones, coaxing out thoughts you’d buried long ago. You tried to take a steadying breath, but it felt as though the very air had been siphoned from the room.

Your nose prickled—a familiar, unwelcome sensation—and you felt the warmth of blood trickling down. Instinctively, you brought your hand to your face, recoiling slightly as you pulled back to see the crimson smear on your fingertips.

Maria’s gaze followed your movements, her eyes darkening as she took in the sight of blood. For a fleeting moment, her expression shifted—something crossed her features that you couldn’t quite place. Fascination? Concern? It was gone too quickly to tell. But there was a gleam in her eyes, a flicker of something primal, like she understood more about what was happening to you than you did.

"Are you alright?" Maria asked, her voice carefully controlled, yet carrying a weight that felt almost predatory.

"I'm fine," you said quickly, though your voice trembled slightly. The pounding in your head intensified, each beat reverberating like a drum. Waves of pain radiated outward, distorting your vision and making it hard to focus.

"Are you?" Maria pressed, taking another step toward you. "You don’t look fine. In fact… you look like you’re about to break."

Her words carried a strange satisfaction, as though she’d been waiting for this—for you to unravel, for your control to slip.

You are our sun.

Shine.

Shine for the world.

The voice returned, insidious and relentless. Your parents’ mantra echoed in your mind, weaving itself into your consciousness like a thread you couldn’t untangle.

"Y/N?" Maria’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and commanding. It snapped you back to the present, anchoring you to reality for a fleeting moment.

You blinked rapidly, trying to clear your vision. Maria stood closer now, her eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that bordered on invasive. There was something predatory in her gaze—something that made you feel like prey trapped in a hunter’s sights.

"I said I’m fine," you repeated, taking another step back. But your body betrayed you, trembling under the strain. It was as if an electric current pulsed beneath your skin, wild and untamed, begging for release.

Maria tilted her head, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips. "No, you’re not. You’re burning from the inside out. I can see it."

Her voice was soft, almost soothing, but it carried an undercurrent of satisfaction, as though she’d been waiting for you to reach this breaking point. Waiting for the cracks in your façade to show.

You are our sun.

Shine for the world.

The pounding in your head grew louder, the mantra intertwining with the pain, with the memories you’d fought so hard to bury. Your vision blurred again, and the room spun, but the voice remained crystal clear.

Maria tilted her head, observing you intently. “You don’t look well. In fact, you look… ready to explode.”

There was something in her voice—a touch of barely concealed satisfaction. As if she had been waiting for this, waiting to see how far you’d go before breaking.

You are our sun.

Shine.

Shine for the world.

The dizziness worsened, the ground seemed to shift beneath your feet. Then, for an instant, you saw something—a flickering image in your mind like a broken reflection. Light. A golden glow radiating from you, warm and relentless.

You stumbled, leaning against the nearest wall. “I just… need to get out of here.”

You left the room, holding your nose—blood dripping hot between your fingers, unstoppable. Your vision wavered with every step, the world around you distorting as if it were unsteady. The sound of your own shoes against the floor felt muffled, distant, while the pain in your head throbbed relentlessly, a pounding drum deep in your mind.

Every step toward the car felt monumental. The pain spread, no longer confined to your head, but racing down your spine, burning like a line of fire. Sharp stabs concentrated behind your eyes, stealing your breath. Your knees threatened to give out, and you clung to anything nearby, seeking balance.

Shine.

Shine for the world.

The voice was incessant now, growing louder, as if merging with the pain itself. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block it out, trying to make sense of it. But it was impossible. Everything was too much—the blood, the pain, the suffocating echo of the words.

When you finally reached your car, your hands trembled so much that you couldn’t find the keys. The dizziness worsened, and the world began to spin. You leaned against the car door, breathing deeply, but the oxygen refused to reach your lungs.

In that moment, that second of pure desperation, you heard something. A different voice. More real.

“Y/N?”

Lifting your eyes with difficulty, you saw Wanda. She was standing at the doorway to the house, her face a mask of worry. You tried to say something, but your voice failed. The pain was unbearable now, a knife buried deep in your mind.

In an instant, Wanda was by your side. Her red magic shimmered around you, and before you could protest, she lifted you effortlessly into her arms.

“Wanda, I…” You tried to speak, but the world was spinning so fast it felt like it was collapsing.

“Shh,” she murmured, her voice low and urgent. “Don’t talk. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

As Wanda carried you inside, her touch resonated within you. But there was something more. You realized she was feeling the pain too, sharing it in some way. Her face was tense, as though every step was a struggle.

“It’s burning me,” she whispered, her voice filled with awe and pain. “What’s happening to you?”

You wanted to respond, to explain, but you had no answers. All that remained was the pain, the blood, and the voice that continued to whisper.

Shine.

Shine for the world.

When you reached the living room, Wanda set you down gently on the couch, her gaze drifting over the blood still dripping from your nose. Her eyes were filled with tears she was holding back through sheer willpower.

“I’ll take care of you,” she said firmly, but you saw the fear behind her words. “I promise.”

As she placed her hand on your forehead, trying to channel her magic to ease your pain, all you could feel was the unbearable weight of that voice. And for the first time, you feared it might be right. That you needed to shine—but at what cost?

The weight was crushing when you opened your eyes. The room was cloaked in shadows, with only the moonlight filtering through the curtains, painting soft lines on the floor. Your entire body ached as if it had been crushed by something invisible, but you knew you had to get up.

With effort, you swung your feet onto the floor, trying to find your balance, but the world spun. The dizziness was overwhelming, and your shaky steps betrayed your weakness.

Before you could take more than two steps, the door abruptly opened. Wanda entered, carrying a tray of food, her eyes immediately locking onto you, filled with worry and irritation.

“Oh no, you don’t!” Her voice was firm, a command that cut through the air. “Lie down.”

You tried to protest, but she was already by your side, guiding you back to the bed with a gentleness that contrasted with her authoritative tone. She adjusted the pillows behind you and placed the tray on your lap, filled with hot soup, bread, and a glass of water.

“You’re going to eat this, and then rest. I don’t want to hear another word about getting up.”

Her manner was almost maternal, but the intensity in her eyes revealed something deeper: concern, love, and an almost desperate need to protect you.

When you finished eating, Wanda took the tray and pulled a chair close to your bedside. She held your hand, her fingers stroking yours. Her voice was softer when she finally asked:

“Now tell me… What happened?”

You hesitated, but her gaze didn’t allow for evasion. Sighing, you began to speak.

“It was Maria. The school principal. Today, at work. She… approached me.”

Wanda’s face immediately hardened, but she remained silent, waiting for you to continue.

“She started talking about the past. About who I used to be under her authority. I… I don’t know how to explain it, Wanda. Something she said threw me off, and my head started pounding.”

You felt Wanda’s gaze intensify, but the words kept flowing, like a painful confession.

“She humiliated me back in high school, pushed me in ways I didn’t understand. I hated it, but at the same time… I liked it. Liked the way she was cruel to me. Like there was power in it, something that made me feel alive in a strange, twisted way.”

The silence in the room was absolute, broken only by the sound of your uneven breathing. Wanda remained still, but the magic around her began to pulse in soft red hues, like a racing heartbeat.

“Today, she did it again,” you continued, your voice trembling. “She got close, so close I could smell her. She asked about my life, pressed me with that tone that made me want to disappear. And I… I felt like I did back then. Small and insecure. I couldn’t react. My body just… gave in.”

Wanda’s green eyes were locked on yours now, and you saw something in them that made you shiver: anger, jealousy, and an intensity that seemed capable of setting the world ablaze.

“You’re telling me,” Wanda began, her voice low and controlled but electric with tension, “that this woman… thinks she has any claim over you?”

You tried to speak, but she didn’t give you the chance.

“Thinks she can pressure you, humiliate you, and get away with it?” The veins at her temples were visible now, her magic flickering around her fingers like flames.

“Wanda, I—”

“No.” She stood, her power surging around her, almost tangible in the air. “You are mine. And no one, absolutely no one, has the right to do this to you. Not Maria. Not anyone.”

The weight of her declaration hung between you, and for a moment, you didn’t know whether to feel fear, relief, or both. All you knew was that despite her intensity, Wanda’s presence was the only thing keeping you anchored to reality in that moment.

With a rough gesture, Wanda grabbed your chin to make you look at her.

The air seemed to vibrate with Wanda’s energy, charged with emotions you could barely process. Her power was there, pulsing beneath the surface, illuminating the room in crimson hues like a storm about to erupt. The question hung between you, heavy, impossible to ignore.

“Did you enjoy it?”

Her voice was low, but there was something dangerous in it, something that made your heart race. Her grip on your chin wasn’t gentle; it was possessive. Wanda held you as if the mere act of looking away would be an unforgivable offense.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. All you could do was feel—her overwhelming presence, the heat radiating from her, the knot forming in your throat as you struggled to process everything.

“Answer me.”

Her fingers tightened slightly, her green eyes blazing like fire. “Did you like what Maria did to you?”

Did you know the answer wasn’t simple? Nothing about this was simple. Part of you wanted to deny it, to walk away from this conversation, but another part... the part Wanda seemed to see so clearly... knew there was no escape.

“I…” Your voice faltered, and you swallowed hard, feeling the tightness in your throat. “I hated it. And... at the same time…”

Wanda tilted her head, her eyes narrowing, focused on every nuance of your words.

“Go on. Keep talking.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to summon strength. But all you could see was red — the red of her magic, the red of her anger, the red that seemed to color every thought in your mind.

“Part of me liked it because... because it reminded me,” you finally admitted, each word an effort. “Reminded me of how I used to feel. Of who I used to be.”

Wanda’s expression hardened, and you saw the pain your words caused. But she didn’t pull away. On the contrary, she stepped even closer, until your faces were nearly touching, her breath warm against your skin.

“And do you miss that?” The question came low, almost a growl.

You shook your head quickly. “No. I don’t want to be that person again.”

“Then why did you let it happen?” Her tone was merciless, but there was a vulnerability buried in it, a fear she couldn’t quite hide.

“Because I’m broken,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Because part of me still believes I deserve it.”

Wanda exhaled slowly, as though trying to contain her fury. Her fingers slid to your neck, pressing lightly, as if she wanted to feel your racing pulse beneath your skin.

“You don’t deserve that,” she said at last, her voice softer, yet still full of intensity. “You never did. You were young, weak… Maybe you still are, aren’t you? Of course, you’d let her have some kind of control over you.”

Wanda tilted her head, her fingers still firm around your neck, squeezing just enough to make you feel the rapid beating of your heart. Her eyes never left yours, piercing, as if she wanted to strip away every secret you still hid.

“You see yourself as a victim,” Wanda murmured, almost with disgust. “A puppet anyone can manipulate. But do you know what I see?”

You swallowed hard, your entire body on alert, every cell vibrating under her touch. “What?”

“I see a woman who needs to be broken in a different way.”

The tension in the room became almost unbearable. The heat, the silence interrupted only by the sound of your ragged breaths, and Wanda’s overpowering presence made the air feel heavy. Every word she spoke was an electric current running down your spine, igniting every nerve, every hidden desire.

Wanda’s fingers slid along your collarbone, the touch as light as a whisper. But there was a promise in the slow, deliberate movement, one that made your skin burn. You knew she was testing your limits — but you also knew Wanda wasn’t the kind to tolerate resistance for long.

“Broken… in a way that you’ll beg never to be fixed,” Wanda continued, her voice low and husky, as her fingers trailed up your neck, closing around your throat. “I can feel your heart beating here.” She pressed lightly, her thumb against your racing pulse. “I wonder who it’s beating for.”

You tried to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. All you managed was a strangled sound, a mix of surprise and pleasure.

“What’s the matter?” Wanda smirked slowly, her eyes gleaming with malice. “Cat got your tongue, little doll? Still thinking about her?” She spat the words.

You opened your mouth to deny it, but the firm grip on your throat turned any attempt at a response into a shaky moan. Your eyes met hers, and the intensity in Wanda’s gaze made your entire body tremble.

Wanda’s face was a mask of control on the verge of breaking. Fury and jealousy burned in her eyes like a storm threatening to consume you entirely. Her grip on your throat was firm but didn’t hurt — at least not in the way you expected. Instead, every touch of hers made something inside you melt, every word laden with a dark desire that made your whole body hum.

“You should know,” she murmured, her tone low and rough, almost a warning. “You should know that no one else can have you. No one else can make you feel what I do.”

Her fingers tightened slightly, and you felt the pressure increase, the air growing scarce but still enough to keep you conscious. Wanda controlled every breath, every sensation — and you didn’t want her to stop.

“And yet, you let someone else get close,” she continued, her voice dripping with disdain and possessiveness. “You let another woman believe she had any right to you.”

“I—” you tried to speak, but Wanda increased the pressure, silencing you again.

“No,” she growled. “I don’t want excuses. I want you to understand one thing.”

She leaned in until her lips brushed yours, never easing her grip. Her breath, when it finally reached you, was hot and heavy with restrained anger.

“You’re mine,” she declared, every word a command that seared into your skin. “You’ve always been mine. And now… now you’ll pay for letting yourself believe, even for a second, that anyone else could possess you.”

Your eyes closed as a shiver ran through your body. Her tone, the firm touch on your throat, the promise of punishment — it all made the heat inside you rise to an unbearable level. You felt your body respond to her authority as if it were made to fit perfectly under Wanda’s control.

“Look at me,” she ordered.

Your eyes opened slowly, meeting hers. There was something primal there, a raw need mingled with her anger. You didn’t just see jealousy — you saw obsession. You saw love in its most dangerous, possessive form.

“Who’s your heart beating for, Y/n?” Wanda repeated, her eyes narrowing as her thumb pressed against your pulse. “For me… or for her?”

You knew what the right answer was. You knew exactly what Wanda wanted to hear. But at the same time, something pulled you toward the abyss—a desire to provoke her, to test the limits of her control, to see how far she would go to reclaim the authority she never should have lost.

So, instead of answering, you remained silent.

Wanda’s smile faded. For a moment, there was only silence, save for the sound of your ragged breathing and the faint, ominous hum of her magic lingering in the air.

“Silence?” Wanda arched an eyebrow, her tone almost mocking, laced with dangerous amusement. “Still thinking about her, perhaps? Thinking about what she did to you?”

“No!” you cried out, the sound hoarse, choked by the invisible grip around your throat. “I only think of you. Only you, Mommy.”

For a fleeting moment, her gaze softened, a flicker of warmth crossing her features—but it disappeared just as quickly. Her anger returned, simmering beneath the surface, more intense than before.

“Am I supposed to believe that?” Wanda asked, tilting her head slightly, studying you as if dissecting your very soul. “After what you did? After you allowed someone else to touch what is mine?”

She lowered her head until her lips brushed your ear, her voice low, intimate, dripping with both threat and promise.

“I’ll break you, my little doll,” she whispered, her breath hot against your skin. “I’ll make you remember who you belong to.”

The constriction around your throat loosened just enough for you to take a shuddering breath, but Wanda gave you no time to recover. In one swift, calculated move, she claimed your mouth in a fierce, almost brutal kiss, her teeth scraping your bottom lip, drawing blood.

You whimpered against her mouth, your body surrendering entirely to the control she demanded. Tears streamed down your face, the salty droplets mingling with the metallic taste of blood on your lips.

“That’s it,” Wanda murmured, her voice softening as she pulled back slightly, her fingers caressing your cheek to wipe away your tears. “Cry for me. Show me you understand.”

Her gaze locked onto yours, intense and unrelenting. Her fingertips traced the contours of your face, the touch deceptively gentle.

“I want all of you,” Wanda said, her tone a mix of tenderness and authority. “Your body, your mind, your heart. Everything.”

You nodded, your eyes never leaving hers. “I’m already yours.”

“Then prove it,” she whispered, the words carrying weight, dripping with expectation. “Prove to me that you are mine. And only mine.”

The air around you both vibrated with her magic, the energy suffocating and comforting all at once. You knew she was about to push you to your limits—and deep down, you craved it more than anything.

Your tears streamed freely, thick droplets tracing down your cheeks as you whispered, “Do whatever you want with me, Mommy. Punish me. I deserve it.”

Wanda wasn’t finished punishing you. Her rage was palpable—it hung in the air like a storm ready to break, crackling in every word, every movement. She stepped back for a moment, pacing slowly across the room, her footsteps echoing in the tense silence. The suspense only heightened your anticipation.

“What’s your safe word?” she asked, her voice steady, controlled. She wasn’t testing your limits—she was daring you to withstand more.

“Crimson,” you answered, your voice raspy, barely above a whisper.

Wanda stopped pacing, her darkened eyes locking onto yours. Slowly, with deliberate precision, she walked to a nearby wardrobe and opened it. Your heart raced as you watched her pull out a black leather belt, worn and heavy—a symbol of unyielding authority, of her dominion over you.

The sound of the belt sliding through her fingers echoed in the quiet room, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Do you know why you’re being punished?” Wanda asked, taking a step toward you, folding the belt carefully in her hands.

“Yes,” you replied without hesitation. Your voice was steady, but inside, you trembled—with anticipation, with desire, with a desperate need to be hers.

“Then say it.” She stopped in front of you, her gaze smoldering, intense. “Tell me why you deserve this.”

“Because I… I let another woman dominate me,” you whispered, your eyes dropping to the floor in shame. “I let her believe she had power over me.”

The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of your confession hanging in the air. Wanda remained still for several long moments, simply watching you, analyzing every breath, every tremor.

“On your knees,” she commanded, her voice low but absolute.

You dropped to your knees without a second thought, your palms resting on your thighs, your gaze still lowered. Wanda circled you slowly, the sound of her footsteps reverberating through the room, each step increasing the tension, the fire burning beneath your skin.

“Look at me,” she ordered.

You lifted your head, meeting her gaze, and what you saw in her eyes made your entire body shudder. There was anger, yes—but there was something deeper, more profound. Reverence. As if you were a sacrifice offered to her, a precious possession that she would never let go.

“What are you?” Wanda asked, leaning closer, her face mere inches from yours.

“I’m yours,” you replied without hesitation, your voice steady, resolute.

“Whose?” Her grip on the belt tightened, the leather creaking under the pressure of her fingers.

“Yours, Wanda. Only yours.”

A predatory smile spread across her lips, dangerous and alluring. Wanda stepped back, raising the belt, running it slowly through her fingers as if savoring the anticipation.

“Lie down,” she commanded.

You obeyed instantly, lying on the bed, your body tense yet aching for her touch. Wanda climbed onto the bed beside you, kneeling next to you, the belt gliding over your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

“You deserve to be punished,” she murmured, her fingers tracing your jawline with deceptive tenderness. “And I will teach you what happens when you forget who you belong to.”

The first strike was sudden, unexpected. The sharp crack of the belt against your skin echoed in the room, and your back arched instinctively, a strangled moan escaping your lips. The sting burned, yet awakened something primal inside you—a deep, insatiable need to surrender completely.

“Count,” Wanda demanded, her voice unyielding.

“One,” you gasped, your breath coming in quick, shallow bursts.

Another strike, this one harder. The heat radiated from the point of impact, and you whimpered, your body trembling with the overwhelming mix of pain and pleasure.

“Two.”

Wanda maintained a steady rhythm, each strike precise, calculated. Each lash of the belt was a reminder—a mark of her ownership over you, etched not just into your skin but into your very soul.

As you counted each number, the tension between you grew, thickening the air around you. The magic surrounding Wanda crackled, her power tangible, suffocating yet intoxicating.

When you reached the tenth strike, your voice broke, tears streaming down your face. But they weren’t tears of pain—they were tears of release, of surrender. Of absolute devotion.

Wanda stopped, the belt falling to her side. She leaned over you, her fingers once again brushing your tears away with an almost reverent gentleness.

“My little doll,” she whispered, her voice soft, affectionate. “Look at you. So beautiful like this. So completely mine.”

You sobbed quietly, your body trembling under her touch, every part of you laid bare before her.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice cracking with emotion. “Thank you, Mommy.”

Wanda’s smile softened, though the possessiveness in her gaze remained. She leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was both tender and consuming. The taste of her was everything you needed—a reminder that you were exactly where you were meant to be

“This,” she murmured against your lips. “Now you understand.”

And you did. Every mark on your skin, every tear shed, every whispered word—it was all an oath. A silent promise that you belonged to Wanda. That you always had.

“My good girl,” Wanda whispered, her lips now brushing against your ear. “And no one… no one… will take you from me.”

The intensity of her words made your heart race even faster. Wanda’s hand ran down your neck to your chest, pressing you into the mattress, as if she were holding you both physically and emotionally.

Her eyes burned with something that went beyond anger. It was adoration, obsession, a love so deep and fierce that it seemed capable of consuming the entire world if it had to.

Wanda’s hands caressed the red skin of your ass. The contrast of the cold of her hands against your hot, abused skin. Her long fingers caressed your outer lips, feeling how wet you were. She uses your lubrication and takes it to your asshole, making your eyes widen in surprise.

“Oh… Look at that,” Wanda murmured with a cruel smile, her fingers still caressing your wet folds, slipping easily between the heat and desire that dripped from you. “So wet just from being spanked? From being put in your place?”

You moaned, trying to hide in the bed, but there was no escaping her. Wanda knew every part of you — body and mind. She knew exactly how to press until you had no choice but to surrender.

She laughed softly, and her laugh was both a comfort and a torture. “You’re such a desperate slut, aren’t you? How does it feel to have my finger in your asshole?”

The humiliation burned your skin, but it was a fire that only increased your desire. You tried to open your mouth to protest, but Wanda was already lowering her hand again. Not to hit you this time, but to slide her wet finger into your other hole, circling it slowly, threatening to enter.

“Surprise?” Her voice was a whisper of pure sin. “Do you think I’ll spare you after what you did? Do you think I won’t claim what’s mine?”

You felt her finger press into your ass, teasing the entrance to your anus, a slight push that made you arch your back and let out a loud moan. Your entire body trembled, torn between discomfort and the overwhelming pleasure that was about to explode.

“Oh. Look at that… A little slut who loves having all her holes used, isn’t she?” She pressed even harder, making your eyes roll back with the mind-blowing pleasure. The massage her fingers did in the spot was skillful, making you want more and push your ass against Wanda.

“Beg.” She said through her teeth, making circular movements in your ass. “Beg mommy to fuck your virgin ass.”

Saliva slowly dripped from the corners of your mouth, forming a shiny thread that fell onto the sheets beneath you. Your mind was in a dense fog, as if reality itself had dissolved around the intensity of the moment.

“Mommy, please…” Your tongue curled as you spoke due to the amount of saliva accumulated in your mouth.

“Try again.” Her rigid voice left no room for questioning.

“Mommy, please— Fuck, fuck me. Use all my holes however you want. Use me.” You cried out, whimpering. You begged for her. You had been a bad girl, but here you were seeking redemption.

“It’s something like this…” Wanda murmured, her voice hoarse as if each word was impregnated with repressed desire and pure fury.

The air around you seemed to vibrate with her intensity—not just her magic, but the emotional storm that Wanda carried within her. Jealousy. Anger. And an obsession that burned so hot it could incinerate anything it touched.

“P- Please touch my pussy, please, please, please,” you cried out, but Wanda only hummed.

“No, you don’t deserve to be touched there.” Wanda said, pushing the tip of her third finger into you.

Removing her fingers from you, she grabbed the bottle of lube and lubed up your strap-on. She pulled the toy out, needing to spread the lube around and what was the perfect way to do that? “You let me know if you need me to add lube, got it?”

“Yes- Yes, just fuck me already.” You trembled beneath the older woman.

You felt your hair being pulled at the roots, making you arch your back towards Wanda and stick your ass up against her strap-on. “You think you can give me orders now? Huh?!” She tugged hard on the strands, making you scream.

The scent of sandalwood filled the air around you, intoxicating your senses, making it impossible to even form a coherent thought. Each breath seemed to pull Wanda deeper into you, until all that was left was her overwhelming presence—burning like a secret you never wanted to confess.

Her fingers slid across your scarred skin, sending shivers down your spine.

“You should be so grateful,” Wanda murmured, her tone thick with contempt and adoration mixed into one sentence. “Even with that foolish mind of yours, that dared to stop thinking about me… I’m still here.” She leaned her face down until her lips brushed your ear, her voice so low it sounded like an inverted prayer. “Mommy is here… giving you exactly what you need.”

The weight of her words made your breath hitch, your entire body shaking under Wanda’s relentless control. Your eyes closed for a moment, letting the warmth of her presence consume you completely.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice weak and broken. But it wasn’t enough. “Thank you, Mommy,” you repeated, more firmly this time, as if each word was an offering.

“You should be grateful. Do you think Maria can give you that?” This sense of belonging, this love?” She growls as she pushes an inch inside you.

“Wands…” You moan needily, and receive a thrust so hard that it makes you gasp in pain.

“That name. You are not to use it now, understand? Not while you are nothing to me, nothing but a hole for me to use.” She snapped, tears welling in your eyes. You turned your head so she couldn’t see.

“Good, now that it’s all in, you will tell me when I can start fucking you. And I won’t start until you give me the green light, Dekta.” She soothed.

You nodded, shuddering as she pushed the rest of the toy inside you. As she promised, Wanda stood still, rubbing your lower back as she waited for you to adjust. You waited ten minutes, wanting to get used to the feeling. The strapon she was using was a size you weren’t used to, especially in your ass. But it wasn’t unbearable, and when you looked at Wanda and nodded, you gave her the go-ahead.

The witch began to fuck you at a slow pace, wanting to make sure she wasn’t actually hurting you. As much of a bad girl as you had been, you were still her girl. And nothing in the world would change that.

“God, the mess you’re making of me just because I have my dick in your ass. You’re so fucking pathetic.” She laughed, picking up the pace.

Wanda leaned over you, her weight crushing both your skin and your soul, making it clear who was in control. Her fingers slid around your waist, squeezing with an inhuman strength, while her eyes burned with that corrosive jealousy that hadn’t yet dissipated.

Her voice came low, slurred, each word laced with venom and possession. "Do you think Maria saw you the way I do? Do you think she felt what I feel for you? No. She only saw something to use. An easy toy to break. And you let her."

You tried to shake your head, but Wanda wouldn't let you. The tightness in your throat tightened a little, not enough to hurt, but enough to silence you.

"You're mine. But do you want to know the truth?" She leaned in even closer, her lips almost touching yours. "Without me, you're nothing."

The words cut deep, a direct blow to your pride, but strangely, you felt heat spread throughout your body. Each insult was a testament to how much Wanda cared—her love was fierce, sickening, but it was also undeniable.

"Repeat it," she demanded, her fingers now slowly sliding to your jaw, keeping your face up so you couldn't look away. "Tell me who you are without me."

Your bottom lip trembled, shame and desire fighting inside you.

"I… I am nothing."

"Louder."

"I am nothing!" You screamed, your voice shaky and desperate, feeling the tears burn your eyes. "I am only something because you made me be!"

Wanda's fury was a weight in the air. Every beat of her heart seemed to set the environment around her on fire, her magic pulsing like a living creature, thirsting for more. Her fingers trembled as they slid through the leather belt she still held, but not from insecurity — it was the anger that bubbled inside her, a storm of emotions she could barely contain.

Maria's name echoed in Wanda's mind like a curse.

Maria.

This woman who dared to touch what didn't belong to her. Who dared to think, for a single second, that she could have you. Who could break you as if Wanda hadn't molded every piece of your soul with her presence, her touch, her burning love.

The jealousy burning inside Wanda was a wildfire, and her magic danced around her in response—deep red, dark crimson, like freshly spilled blood. The energy crackled at her fingertips, leaving a trail of sparks across the room as she paced in slow circles, like a predator stalking its prey.

“Did she have you?” The question reverberated in her mind, and the answer hurt like a raw blade. It didn’t matter that you were here, at her feet, begging for forgiveness. It didn’t matter that your every word was a promise of submission. All Wanda could see was another woman daring to believe she had any control over you.

Wanda knew what it was like to be marked by the past. She knew what it was like to carry the scars of pain, of abandonment, of loss. But to see you—the one thing in the world that made your darkness seem bearable—touched by another? That was unforgivable.

“Did she make you moan?”

“Did she see that look in your eyes?”

“Did she know how to make you beg?”

Each question fueled Wanda’s anger, and the magic around her responded with a perfect reflection of her emotions. The crimson sparks turned into strands of energy that snaked through the air, dancing like serpents around Wanda. The intensity of the magic increased with each dark thought that passed through her mind.

But what really made Wanda burn with jealousy—what made her want to rip out her own heart so she wouldn’t feel so much—was the fact that you let this happen.

You, who were hers.

You, who belonged to her from the moment your eyes met.

You, who were now marked not only by Wanda, but by another woman.

“No, Mommy. She never took me for her own. I’m only yours.” You murmured with difficulty, but firmly.

Wanda’s smile was cruel and satisfied. And it surprised you when you felt your clit being massaged by her fingers. “Mommy was very happy now.” She says and plants a kiss behind your ear, and now, the thrusts become hard and rough.

“Mommy’s little girl’s ass is so tight…” She murmurs without eloquence, just feeling, just corrupting your untouched body.

Wanda’s fingers tightened around your waist, her knuckles turning white. She knew she needed to release this energy before she lost control. But first, she needed something more—she needed to hear it from you. She needed to be sure that every inch of you still belonged to her.

She stepped closer slowly, her green eyes shining like emeralds beneath the crimson glow of the magic that still floated through the room. Jealousy brimmed in her voice as she whispered,

“Say it again. Who do you belong to?”

“You,” you murmured, your eyes brimming with tears.

“It’s not enough.” Her voice grew lower, more menacing. “Say her name.”

You hesitated for a moment, fear and shame mingling in your gaze.

“Maria…” The name fell from her lips in an embarrassed whisper.

Wanda shivered. The magic around her flared brighter, and for a moment, the entire room seemed to fill with that dark red.

“She thought she could have you.” Wanda smiled, but it was a cruel smile, sharp as a blade. “She thought it could be me.”

Her eyes flared, and the anger that had once seemed ready to explode was replaced by something even more dangerous: a calculated calm.

“She won’t think that anymore.” Wanda’s voice was low, a warning. “I’ll make sure Maria understands exactly who you belong to.”

Wanda’s magic fed on jealousy, on the desire to possess. And the more she thought about Maria—this intruder, this threat—the more powerful it became. The crimson sparks began to solidify, forming currents of energy that fluttered around Wanda, as if waiting for an order.

But for now, Wanda turned her attention to you. Because before she could deal with Maria, she needed to make sure you understood.

That you would never make the mistake of giving yourself to anyone other than her again. She gripped your chin firmly, forcing you to look at her.

“You’ll thank me for this,” Wanda whispered. “You’ll thank me for reminding you of who you are. Who you belong to.” Her touch burned, but it was a fire you craved. Because despite everything, despite the anger, the jealousy, the pain—you knew this was where you wanted to be.

“Thank you, Mommy,” you whispered, your entire body shaking under her intense gaze.

“Good girl.” Wanda smiled slowly, satisfied. But deep in her eyes there was still an unspoken promise—a promise that Maria would pay. Because Wanda was not someone who forgave easily.

Your orgasm was building with each thrust, you didn’t even know it could feel this good. But she found you begging for her: “Mommy, please! Forgive me, please, please! I need to be forgiven so much.” You cried, tears streaming from your eyes as you slobbered all over her mattress with your saliva and juices.

The sound of your sobs, the way you begged, made Wanda tremble all over. She tried to hold her breath, but her body betrayed any attempt at control. Her hands were steady, but her fingers trembled slightly as they caressed your tear-stained face. The weight of your words—“Mommy, please! Forgive me, please, please!”—echoed in her head like a song that fed her ego and her obsession.

You were so small, so surrendered, so broken. All that was left was a fragile, submissive creature, molded by Wanda’s hands, desperate for approval. She knew Maria could never have seen you like this. She would never have understood the absolute power that came from reducing you to this—to something pure, vulnerable, wanting to be molded, guided, belonging entirely to her.

The sight of you lying there, sweating, crying, your lips wet and your face pressed into the mattress as your saliva dripped like a glistening stream, was intoxicating. The absolute control Wanda had over you made her own pulse race. The corrosive jealousy of before gave way to something even darker and more pleasurable: the knowledge that you were hers alone.

“Look at you,” Wanda whispered, her voice shaking slightly. She couldn’t help it—a low, incredulous laugh escaped her lips. “So beautiful, so… pathetic. Begging as if your life depended on it.”

She gripped your chin, lifting your face. Your eyes were glassy, ​​lost in submission, and Wanda almost groaned at how broken you were—and how perfect it was.

She began to ease her thrusts into your ass and leaned down to place hot kisses on your back, an affectionate and reverent act. You were so precious, the most beautiful thing Wanda had ever had the pleasure of holding in her hands.

Wanda pulls out of you, missing the feeling of having you squeezing her. You huff, whimper, growl at not getting what you want and Wanda finds it adorable.

“What do you want?” She teased, already massaging the needy entrance to your pussy.

At that moment, there was nothing more urgent than this. You needed this, like you needed air to breathe.

“Mommy! Please touch my pussy. I can’t take it anymore.” You say in a shaky breath, your whole body trembling. “I need to be filled.” You begged, and heard a needy moan coming from her. It was clear, now this was torture for both of you.

“Fuck, turn around. I need to fuck you now.” She growled, pulling you into a claiming kiss.

The world seemed to stop the instant Wanda pulled you in, her strength and urgency drawing a gasp of surprise from your lips. There was nothing soft about the way she kissed you—it was a growl turned into action, raw and hungry, as if she were trying to engrave her possession into every cell of your being.

Her fingers sank into your hair, tugging at it with a firmness that made your scalp tingle, while her other hand anchored itself around your waist, squeezing hard enough to leave marks. The kiss was a fierce collision of lips, teeth, and desire, as if she wanted to devour you whole.

You could barely breathe, lost in her overwhelming heat, in the magic that seemed to vibrate in every inch of your skin. Her taste was a mix of anger and something deeper—something primal and possessive, that made your heart hammer and your legs threaten to give way.

And when she entered you, her eyes turned completely red and frightening. The pleasure she felt was not one of those safe types, it was corrosive, it made you burn inside.

“Fuck, that feels so much better now…” Wanda’s tone seemed lost in you, in your surrender and confidence. “Mommy wants her little girl to cum like this.” She murmurs in a slow rhythm, while biting the curve of your neck and inhaling the scent there.

“Oh, fuck, mommy—” You moaned loudly when you felt her cock hit the spongy spot inside you. “Tell me that you love me. That even after I messed up, you’re still obsessed with me.” You said in a dangerous impulse inside you.

Wanda’s body tensed at your words, her eyes shining with a mix of desire and something deeper—an abyss that she herself seemed unable to control. She didn’t respond immediately, and the silence between you was heavy, heavy, like the pause before a storm.

“Tell me,” you repeated, your voice a little lower, but no less provocative. It was a dangerous impulse, yes, but also a raw need to hear the words come out of her lips.

“I…” Wanda’s breathing was ragged, lust burning like liquid fire in her veins. Her hand came up to cup your face, her fingers trembling with an emotion she couldn’t name as she thrust inside you. “I love you. More than I should. More than is safe.”

The words came out almost like a forced confession, and yet there was an undeniable firmness to them. Wanda seemed lost, as if the intensity of her own feelings were drowning her, but she couldn’t stop.

“Do you think it’s obsession?” She continued, her voice hoarse, almost a whisper. “Maybe it is. Because when I look at you, I can’t think of anything else. I can’t breathe without wanting you closer. Without wanting you all to myself.”

You felt her body tremble against yours, a mix of desire and vulnerability that seemed to swallow the air between you. It was as if Wanda was completely intoxicated by what she felt, unable to contain herself. With you squeezing around her, sucking her cock—extracting all of her milk, making her spill inside you.

“I love you so much…!” Your back arched on the king-size bed, making Wanda bury herself deeper inside you. “So much, mommy…” You curl your fingers between her red strands, feeling the softness.

“Fuck. I’m going to fuck you so fucking hard.” She growled, increasing her movements—frantic and desperate. Wanda was going to cum, and she would cum hard.

Your breasts rubbed together, your nipples hard as rocks with excitement. And it was when she fingered your clit that you lost it. Your hips and legs trembled around her.

“Cum. Cum for mommy, little slut.” Wanda moaned in a slurred, needy tone, thrusting so deep that her hips were uncontrollably slamming into yours. “Shit. You’re so beautiful…”

“Mommy!”

You came, repeating her title like a sacred mantra, your legs shaking and swaying around the woman who kept thrusting—also already giving in to her own orgasm.

Wanda’s orgasm came like a volcanic eruption, a release so overwhelming that it seemed to tear the very fabric of reality around her. It was more than physical pleasure—it was power, pure, intoxicating magic, poured directly into you, as if each thrust was an offering, each moan an ancient chant that awakened something dormant deep within the sorceress.

She had never felt anything like it.

Sweat dripped from her forehead, dripping onto her hot skin, mixing with the tears and saliva you had already shed. But the trembling in your legs and the fire burning in your belly were clear signs that this wasn’t just a climax—it was a fusion. A part of her, an essence, a fragment of her very being, was being deposited within you like a mystical seed that would soon blossom.

“Fuck, this is…” Wanda gasped, unable to find words, her knees sinking into the mattress as her body convulsed with pleasure. The intensity left her staggering, barely able to maintain her balance, as if the weight of the moment were too great to bear. With each tremor, with each contraction of your inner muscles around her, Wanda felt her magic react—sparking, pulsing, flowing into you like a river that overflowed beyond any control.

She gasped, her fingers digging into your hips hard enough to leave marks. “You… fuck, you’re mine.” Her voice came out hoarse, almost like an animalistic growl. “All of this… everything you feel… belongs to me now.”

You repeated her title like a sacred mantra, your voice shaky and punctuated by moans. “Mommy… Mommy…” With each time you said it, Wanda felt her pleasure amplify, reverberating within her own body, until the peak was so overwhelming that she thought she might shatter completely.

When she finally collapsed on top of you, her face pressed against your neck, Wanda could still feel her heart pounding furiously against her ribs. But what truly left her breathless was the absolute certainty that coursed through her body like an electric current: you were marked by her. Indelible. Irrevocable.

“Do you feel it?” Wanda whispered, her lips brushing lightly against your ear. Her voice was low but carried a weight of power. “This is a part of me now, inside you. Growing. Taking root. You’ll never get rid of it.”

The thought made Wanda shiver again. Maria would never have this. She could never touch your soul the way Wanda did. You weren’t just her lover or her submissive anymore — you were an extension of her, the reflection of her magic and her obsession.

It was as if something vibrated beneath your skin, an invisible seed that Wanda had planted within you — something deeper than any physical touch, more penetrating than any word. Her presence was there, latent, like a magical current pulsing inside you, radiating through every cell, every nerve.

It was power.

And at the same time, it was devastation.

You felt your heart hammering in your chest, as if it might burst at any moment, your legs still trembling around her thighs. Your breathing was ragged, but the air seemed insufficient, as though the world around you had changed — as though you had changed.

Wanda had left something inside you.

Something that was growing. Blooming.

Every mark on your skin burned like a silent vow. You belonged to her, and now her magic itself was woven into you — alive, pulsing, demanding to be acknowledged. Your fingers clenched into fists beside the mattress as a tremor ran through your entire body, residual pleasure mixed with a fear you couldn’t trace back to its origin.

Then everything shifted.

The lights in the room flickered.

Once.

Twice.

And then… darkness.

Your head began to spin. You felt a mounting pressure in your ears, a buzzing that seemed to come from within you, as if something were trying to emerge, to break through the surface. Your vision blurred, and the familiar scent of iron filled your nostrils.

Your nose was bleeding.

You brought a trembling hand to your face, touching the blood that slowly dripped down toward your mouth. The metallic taste mixed with the saliva still glistening at the corners of your lips, and you tried to speak, but no sound came out. Everything around you felt distorted, as if the world were spinning on an axis you couldn’t follow.

And then, the voice came.

Shine.

It was like a whisper, but it also echoed like thunder inside your mind.

Shine for the world.

Your body stiffened. The words reverberated within you, pulsing in time with the magic Wanda had left behind. The pain in your temples intensified, as though something was about to explode inside your skull. Each heartbeat sent a wave of agony through your body.

“No… no…” you tried to say, but the voice ignored your resistance.

You are mine.

It was no longer Wanda’s voice.

It was something older. Deeper.

Something that had always been inside you — waiting to awaken.

You rolled onto the floor, pressing your palms against the carpet, trying to anchor yourself to something real, something solid. But everything around you seemed to be crumbling. Your body shook, as if it might shatter under the weight of the magic coursing through your veins.

“I can’t…” you murmured, your voice broken. “I can’t—”

You will shine.

The voice laughed.

Because that’s what you were born for. That’s what you were made to do.

And you knew there was no escape. Wanda’s seed had been planted within you — and now it was beginning to bloom.

But it wasn’t just power growing inside you.

It was destruction.

And, at the same time, a promise that you would never be the same again.

“Please…” you whimpered, not knowing if you were speaking to the voice or to Wanda. “Please, mommy… don’t leave me alone.”

The lights continued to flicker, and the metallic scent of blood in the air made Wanda frown, her gaze darkening with confusion and concern.

“Sweetheart?” Her voice was low, husky, still carrying the remnants of the possessive authority from before, but now there was something more. Something deeply maternal. Protective.

She saw you on your knees, trembling, and the sight hit her like a blow to the chest. The blood dripping from your nose made her heart stop for a moment. This wasn’t the kind of submission she wanted. This was pain. Real. Cruel. And, worse still, it was something she didn’t understand.

“Hey…” Wanda knelt beside you, her fingers trembling as she cupped your face. “Please, look at me. I’m here.”

You couldn’t. Your head was still spinning, the sound of that voice echoing like distant bells inside your mind. Shine. Shine for the world. The words kept hammering at you, as though they were being etched into your skin with fire.

“I can’t…” you whispered, sobbing. “It’s here. Inside me. Something… something is wrong…”

Wanda’s eyes widened, and her concern turned to panic. “Who? Who’s inside you? Maria?” Her voice was a low growl.

You shook your head frantically, your fingers clutching at the fabric of Wanda’s shirt like an anchor. “No… it’s not her. It’s something… A voice. Something that’s trying to use me.”

“No.” Wanda’s voice hardened, and the magic around her began to crackle in the air, sparks escaping from her fingertips. “No one will use you. No one!”

She pulled you into her lap, wrapping her strong arms around your trembling body. Her touch was firm, but there was no anger left. There was a fierce tenderness now, a possessive care that seemed to say: If the world dares to touch you, it will have to go through me first.

“I won’t let anything hurt you,” Wanda promised, her voice a fierce whisper against your ear. “Do you hear me? No matter what it is, no matter who it is. I’m your mother. I will protect you.”

You sobbed against her chest, feeling the security that only Wanda could offer. Even when everything inside you was falling apart, she was there—solid, unchanging.

"I'm so confused," you murmured against her skin. "My head... my head hurts so much..."

Wanda stroked your hair, her fingers gently gliding through the damp strands. "Shh... I know. I know, my love. Mommy's here. You don't have to do anything alone."

Her magic began to envelop you both, a comforting warmth that pushed the darkness away for a moment. Yet, even so, Wanda felt something strange—something coming from within you. A magic that wasn’t hers.

Shine. Shine for the world.

Wanda frowned. Those words weren’t hers, but they lingered in the air like a curse.

"You won't shine for anyone but me," Wanda growled softly, almost as if talking to herself. "You are my light. And no one will extinguish you."

She pulled your face to look into your eyes—her fingers firm yet gentle as she wiped the blood from your nose with her thumb. Your face was streaked with tears and saliva, lips slightly parted in a state of absolute vulnerability. It was the most devastating thing Wanda had ever seen.

"I will take care of you."

Her voice was a whisper, but it carried the weight of an unbreakable promise. "Whatever it is... we'll face it together."

You tried to smile, but the fear still lingered in your eyes. Wanda saw it, and something inside her roared like an enraged bear.

"Whoever did this to you..." Wanda held your face more firmly, her eyes burning with restrained fury. "I will destroy them. I’ll tear apart every single piece of whoever dared to hurt my girl."

You shook your head frantically, panic rising. "No, Wanda... this is inside me."

"Then I'll go inside you too," she said with fierce conviction. "I'll rip it out. I'll cleanse you. I'll keep you safe. And you'll never feel this again."

But as Wanda spoke, you heard that voice in your mind again.

Shine.

It laughed.

Shine… until there's nothing left.

And then, everything went dark.

[...]

While you lay unconscious on the couch, Wanda was restless. She paced the room like a caged animal, her fingers trembling with the magic she was desperately trying to contain. After what had happened—your collapse, the blood, the pain—she felt it. She knew she couldn’t wait any longer. There was something greater, something darker, tied to your necklace, tied to you, and she needed to figure out what it was.

But she didn’t know how.

In a desperate move, she did what she had avoided for months: she reached out to Carol, suspended on the brink between life and death. Wanda had placed Captain Marvel in that state, confining her to a space where her consciousness was held in suspension. But now, the weight of guilt and the need for answers outweighed her hesitations.

Wanda took a deep breath, and with a flick of her fingers, her red magic enveloped Carol. Slowly, she brought her back. Carol's body convulsed, a scream caught in her throat as she opened her eyes.

"You..." Carol whispered, her voice hoarse from so much time in silence, her eyes wide in shock and disbelief that she had allowed herself to be overtaken by Wanda, that she had underestimated her.

"I need you conscious," Wanda said, her tone firm but with an underlying fragility. "This isn’t about you. Not now."

Carol coughed, trying to catch her breath as her senses slowly returned. Her body felt heavy, almost broken, but her mind, always sharp, quickly pieced together what had happened.

"You... kept me like this," she said through gritted teeth, her voice filled with rage. Her eyes glowed, the cosmic energy within her trying to manifest but failing under Wanda's restraints. "How long, Maximoff?"

"It doesn’t matter," Wanda replied firmly. But there was something in her posture—a mix of guilt and desperation—that betrayed more than her words.

"It doesn’t matter?" Carol stood, though unsteady, facing Wanda. "You imprisoned me. You erased me. And now you decide you need me? What gives you the right?"

Wanda stepped closer, her eyes narrowing, her magic still pulsing in her fingers. "I did what was necessary. You wouldn’t understand."

"Wouldn’t understand?" Carol let out a bitter laugh, the sound echoing through the room. "You’re so arrogant, Wanda. You think that just because you have power, you can manipulate people as you please? How wouldn’t I understand? Do you forget who I am?"

"You’re someone who tried to stop me," Wanda retorted, her anger beginning to seep into her voice. "You tried to take her from me. And I couldn’t let that happen. I won’t lose anyone else!"

The two faced each other like two forces of nature on the verge of collision, the tension growing with every second. Carol clenched her fists, the energy within her struggling against Wanda's constraints.

Wanda took a deep breath, her shoulders falling slightly as the intensity in her eyes remained unwavering. The glow of magic in her hands flickered but didn’t fade entirely. She looked fragile, like a branch about to snap, but at the same time terrifyingly formidable, like a storm ready to consume everything around her.

Carol crossed her arms, her expression stern, but there was something different in her stance now. She wasn’t just angry; she was trying to understand, trying to make sense of Wanda’s fierce obsession.

"And what are we going to do then?" Carol asked, her voice a little lower but still filled with skepticism.

Wanda raised her gaze, the red glow reflecting in the dim room. "Take me to Strange."

"Strange?" Carol arched an eyebrow, almost laughing at the idea. "You know he sent me to capture you, don’t you? He gave me clear orders to stop you, Wanda. What makes you think he’ll help?"

There was a heavy silence. Wanda looked at you for a long moment, still unconscious on the couch, your expression soft in contrast to the relentless strength she had shown moments earlier. When she finally spoke, her voice was low, almost reverent.

"Because she’s different," Wanda murmured, as if the words were a secret she didn’t fully understand herself. "So different that even forces like us can’t comprehend her. There’s something in her, something that doesn’t belong to this world… or any other we know."

Carol followed Wanda's gaze to you, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion and frustration. "This is about her, isn’t it?" Carol repeated, pointing in your direction. "You think you’re protecting her, but you don’t see that you’re putting everyone in danger! Wanda, what if you’re wrong?"

The question hung in the air, heavy, as if the entire universe was waiting for the answer.

Wanda straightened her shoulders, the brief softness in her expression disappearing, replaced by a cold, unyielding determination. She walked slowly toward Carol, stopping so close that Captain Marvel could feel the heat of the magic pulsing around her.

"If I’m wrong," Wanda said, her voice as sharp as a blade, "then I’ll make it right. Because I won’t lose her. Not now, not ever."

For a moment, Carol remained silent, assessing Wanda as if trying to decide whether to keep fighting or simply accept the inevitable. Finally, she sighed, throwing her hands up in a gesture of resignation.

"Fine," Carol said, defeated but still irritated. "I'll take you to Strange. But know this: if he decides you're a bigger threat than anything else, I won't intervene. You're on your own, Maximoff."

Wanda didn’t respond immediately, but a small smile curved the corners of her lips—not one of satisfaction, but of somber relief.

"I'm not alone," she murmured, her eyes drifting back to you.

Carol shook her head, exasperated. "You're insane. Literally insane."

Wanda lifted her chin, an aura of power mixed with her trademark stubborn arrogance. She faced Carol with the confidence of someone who had confronted the impossible and emerged victorious.

"I'm not crazy, Carol," Wanda said, her voice sharp as a blade and as steady as the magic still pulsating in her hands. "I’m just a simple woman... who loves. And when you truly love someone, there’s no sacrifice too great."

Carol narrowed her eyes, still trying to decide whether that response was genuine or just another of Wanda's manipulations. But the Scarlet Witch offered no further explanation. She turned away, walking toward you with determined steps, her crimson cape billowing like fire as she knelt by your side, her fingers gently brushing your forehead.

"She’s ready," Wanda said, her voice softening as she spoke to you, even with Carol standing just behind her.

The last portal closed behind you, swallowing the dazzling glow of stars and worlds dancing on the edge of the possible and the unknown. In the silence of the new space, Wanda held you firmly in her arms, as if carrying not just your fragile body but all the hope that still lived within her.

She wasn’t foolish. She knew the paths she had chosen would lead to dangers that challenged even the strength of the Scarlet Witch. But she also knew that the light she had found in you—the only one bold enough to pierce the darkness that once threatened to consume her—was something she wasn’t willing to lose.

You were her sun, even now, unconscious and vulnerable. You were the center around which she orbited, the warmth she sought even in moments when the shadows of her mistakes seemed endless. No matter how many worlds they had to cross, how many battles they had to fight. Nothing would be big enough, nothing frightening enough to extinguish the radiance you had brought to her existence.

There was something sacred in the silence between you, something no spell could explain. Every step Wanda took, every surge of cosmic energy you crossed, seemed to strengthen her resolve. No matter the cost, no matter the enemy. She would do anything to protect you—and whatever it was you were about to discover.

In that moment, as the Sanctum loomed ahead like a monolith of mystery, Wanda knew she stood on the brink of something monumental. Something that would change not just her story but the course of the multiverse itself. The pendant around her neck pulsed faintly, as if responding to the presence of the place.

She took a deep breath.

Her destiny lay in the shadows of a mystery she couldn’t unravel, but the light? That was with her, in her arms, ready to be defended against all odds.

As she took the next step, there was no doubt in her mind. Whatever lay ahead, she would face it with the ferocity of someone who had seen the brilliance of something real—and would not allow it to be extinguished.

"Shine." That word echoed in her mind, a silent command and a promise. Because even in the deepest darkness, a sun never surrenders.

~*~

So?

Tag list <3

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@indentity0018 @beggingonmykneesforher

@idkwhatever580

@reginassecretlover @trying-to-do-good

@imjustvibingsworld @mbxoxo @jazzyxqzl @eternallyconfuzed @ctrlaltedits @sheriffhaughtearp

@lesbiansweet @i-luv-w1men @htinha157 @syssmin @wandasslut3000 @fuzzygiantlamphorse @imaginaryblogger01

[orionsangel86]

I’m not sure how much sense this will make since it’s almost midnight, but am I crazy for thinking how insane it is for Charles to go “I can’t say that I’m in love with you back or anything” and then immediately follow up with “but there’s no one else who I’d go to Hell for”? Cause like, my brain doesn’t know how to not interpret that as Charles reciprocating Edwin’s specific type of love, but not realizing it. Maybe it’s because I grew up in a super religious household so I already have some predispositions about Heaven and Hell, but my point of view for that is just thinking that someone better be pretty damn special for me to go to Hell for them. Like a wife or kid kind of special.

I don't think its crazy to interpret it that way at all. I think its rare to find that level of devotion among two people and when used as a trope it is usually related to extreme romantic love - see the OG Orpheus and Euridice as the prime example. Charles comparing himself to Orpheus in that moment (however naively because he didn't know how the story ended) is far more telling than he seems to realise.

That's not to say that only people with romantic/passionate feelings for someone can experience that level of devotion. Familial and forms of queer platonic love can also certainly be that devoted, and I have seen a lot of people talking about how they view the boys relationship as a queer platonic one, where Charles in particular, doesn't need to feel romantic love in order to be completely devoted to Edwin. I think that's a really great form of representation and can go someway to explaining how much of a deep and profound bond the two have (as a SPN fan I do not use that term lightly lol).

Though I think throughout the series we see Charles display forms of jealousy towards Edwin's connection with Monty and the Cat King, and he does also confirm he likes Crystal because she reminds him of Edwin - even he was joking at the time. I also think it was lovely that in the confession he doesn't once say that he isn't into guys, or that he doesn't think he could ever feel something more romantic for Edwin. He just says he isn't in love with him at that point. Whether or not that particular statement was the whole truth or just Charles' own form of denial and inability to properly process the confession since they were literally running away from a horrible giant spider doll demon from Hell at that point in time remains to be seen.

I think enough hints have also been dropped during cast and writer interviews that if they get a season two, it will go some way to explore Charles' own feelings and build on the aftermath of that confession. Whatever the situation between them is, it is the primary relationship of the show and it is quite clearly built on love and devotion regardless of what forms they or we interpret that as. They have literally forever to figure it out, and I really hope we get to watch at least some of that!

[elvispresleywife]

Guys Ive just been doing some late night loving and reminiscing and just general thinking about Elvis and I realised something that sums up how I feel about Elvis....kind of....and I will put it in quotes because I'm pretty proud "When I started off as an Elvis fan...I was a fan of the entertainer. The performer....then as I delve deeper....I became a fan of the man. The human being. The imperfect yet somehow perfect creation that was Elvis Presley." I started out ages ago when I was younger listening to his music, marveling at his jumpsuits and his songs, and the way he performed on stage. But as I got older....I got more invested....I wanted to know who this man was...what was it that made him so special to me? Why did I feel such an intense and strong connection to someone I've never met? So I began reading books and quotes, down to general scribbles of love notes from him to his girlfriend's or a poem about crushing a bird's skull 😭. I'd watch hours and hours of footage of him....anything I could find. Concerts, interviews, silent videos, photos, anything. I found a love for the man. The raw emotional side of the person who longed for happiness. A purpose. The man who grieved the deaths of people he never knew and problems that society faced. The man whose kindness and generosity outreaches to those beyond prestige and wealth. Beyond those who would be considered his "equals". The man who would laugh one minute and cry the next. The man who felt so deeply he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders everyday both on and off that stage. I fell for the humble, kind, shy, sweet, jealous, sometimes manipulative, but overall incredibly imperfect perfect man with the temper of a raging bull and the tenderness of a kitten. This man has and always will have a profound impact and leave a positively detrimental mark on my life. Not just his incredible music that I listen to everyday but his humanity and charisma and the fact that he was unapologetically himself and if you didn't like it you could leave. I couldn't't imagine a life without him. And to be frank I don't want to. I love this man with all my heart. I can't describe in words how deep my love goes for this man. It's an eternal and special love only me and he will understand. I don't care if this sounds odd or weird. I just had to get it off my chest. I just love him so much my heart aches. I laugh with him and cry for him. This man has changed my world for the better. I look at life through a different lens. And I wouldn't change it for anything.

Sorry for rambling but this is how I feel.

(To Elvis) I love you so much baby. Can't wait to meet you. Thankyou for always being there for me through your music, your movies, your interviews....and just thankyou for being there. I've felt you with me many times and I am so grateful for it. Love you so much.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

[rphunter]

hello everybody !! i just wanted to make a roleplay blog for all of my fandomless roleplays ヾ(≧∇≦)ゞ i am currently 19 years old, a broke little college student and someone who is currently residing within the est time zone ٩(˵˃̶ω˂̶˵)◞* i am currently looking for a long term fandomless oc partner who loves ooc talk !! i just overall love becoming friends with the people i am roleplaying with ^^ 18+ people ONLY !! i can go from semi lit, lit, to novella !! i tend to copy but please please please be literate and go slow in the plots !! i am completely fine with smut as long as it does not take up the entire rp unless the plot calls for it x3 i like a good 20 / 80 smut to plot ratio !! i love to read and write !! and i have been in the roleplay community for roughly about 9 - 10 years now !! ( idk how i started so young if i'm being quite frank... ) i would prefer if i had a rather active roleplay partner but if not then thats perfectly fine !! i however, for my sake i would at least want a response every other day if that is okay !! ヾ( ˃ᴗ˂ )◞ • *✰ i do however also want to mention that i only roleplay on discord !!

🧸 ⎯⎯ 𝐂𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄. 's profile.

coven is really the sweetest guy. he's gentle, super introverted, super shy. he has always been the type that just notices so many tiny things about people just to make them feel heard and taken care of. on the exterior, a very composed and reliable person, though internally drowned by tons of insecurities in his head—mostly because he got bullied at school, some tough stuff with his childhood best friend, who turned out to be the biggest bully of his life. he's a creative soul: baking, painting, playing music. he also overthinks and stresses a whole lot.

he feels under big pressure since he's supposed to take over his family's café, and sometimes he feels like he's not strong enough for that. basically, he wants someone patient and understanding, someone who understands him and his passions. besides, he is a romantic soul, and in relationships, he searches for something mild and meaningful. he hasn't got much experience with love, yet he surely is the kind of guy who would open up just as soon as he would feel comfortable and secured.

face claim ; realistic ⎯ louis partridge | anime ⎯ yeonwoo sunjeong

🥃 ⎯⎯ 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐄. 's profile.

laurence is the kind of man who is all about intellect, especially when it comes to psychology. since he was little, he was fascinated by how people think and behave. smart and capable of explaining even the most intricate things in such a way that somehow would make sense to others, his students like him. he is serious and reserved but actually a very sensitive person who prefers deep, profound contact over light contact.

he is bad in big social environments and has a bit of social anxiety. he guards his emotions and tends to overwork himself, thus forgetting one's own needs at times. laurence is very choosy as to whom he connects with. no small talk, no casual talking. his partner has to challenge him on an intellectual level and share his values, particularly in deep conversations.

speaking about relationships, he seeks a sort of understanding—nothing that necessarily places so much importance on sex in a relationship. he likes being in control in bed and really loves intensity; for him, though, everything else is just trumped by the emotional. laurence is a bit difficult to put across, but when you get past the mask, you will get somebody very passionate, very caring, who actually just wants to find somebody that does understand him, basically.

face claim ; realistic ⎯ zario bolanos | anime ⎯ cheng xiaoshi

🚬 ⎯⎯ 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐙𝐔. 's profile.

souta is a mess, but somehow an endearing one. outwardly, he's hypercharismatic and adaptable, always wearing that charming persona, but he's got a seriously unstable mess emotionally. mostly, he struggles to establish an identity for himself and more often than not finds himself detached and lonely because of this. this manipulative streak he has is from some fear of rejection when he tries to be openly vulnerable. he works as a bartender, loves to indulge in music and photography, but does things like drinking and smoking as a coping mechanism. he yearns for honesty and depth in his relationships, but his fear of losing his identity—or just getting hurt—holds him back. an enigma, he is—walking and talking—charming, yet lost; craving intimacy, yet scared of it.

face claim ; realistic ⎯ kento yamazaki | anime ⎯ yoru / jin saotome ⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖ i will kiss u on the mouth if you are open for dark themes that'll have people clutching their pearls !! i love taboo themes a lot so i would also prefer if my partner did as well !! currently i am only looking for a m x m roleplay with these fellas !! if you are interested please either interact with this post or go ahead and send me a message ^^

.

[notaeri]

hello everybody !! i just wanted to make a roleplay blog for all of my fandomless roleplays ヾ(≧∇≦)ゞ i am currently 20 years old, a broke little college student and someone who is currently residing within the est time zone ٩(˵˃̶ω˂̶˵)◞* i am currently looking for a long term fandomless oc partner who loves ooc talk !! i just overall love becoming friends with the people i am roleplaying with ^^ 18+ people ONLY !! i can go from semi lit, lit, to novella !! i tend to copy but please please please be literate and go slow in the plots !! i love to read and write !! and i have been in the roleplay community for roughly about 9 - 10 years now !! ( idk how i started so young if i'm being quite frank... ) i would prefer if i had a rather active roleplay partner but if not then thats perfectly fine !! i however, for my sake i would at least want a response every other day if that is okay !! ヾ( ˃ᴗ˂ )◞ • *✰ i do however also want to mention that i only roleplay on discord !!

🧸 ⎯⎯ 𝐂𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄. 's profile.

coven is really the sweetest guy. he's gentle, super introverted, super shy. he has always been the type that just notices so many tiny things about people just to make them feel heard and taken care of. on the exterior, a very composed and reliable person, though internally drowned by tons of insecurities in his head—mostly because he got bullied at school, some tough stuff with his childhood best friend, who turned out to be the biggest bully of his life. he's a creative soul: baking, painting, playing music. he also overthinks and stresses a whole lot.

he feels under big pressure since he's supposed to take over his family's café, and sometimes he feels like he's not strong enough for that. basically, he wants someone patient and understanding, someone who understands him and his passions. besides, he is a romantic soul, and in relationships, he searches for something mild and meaningful. he hasn't got much experience with love, yet he surely is the kind of guy who would open up just as soon as he would feel comfortable and secured.

face claim ; realistic ⎯ louis partridge | anime ⎯ yeonwoo sunjeong

🥃 ⎯⎯ 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐄. 's profile.

laurence is the kind of man who is all about intellect, especially when it comes to psychology. since he was little, he was fascinated by how people think and behave. smart and capable of explaining even the most intricate things in such a way that somehow would make sense to others, his students like him. he is serious and reserved but actually a very sensitive person who prefers deep, profound contact over light contact.

he is bad in big social environments and has a bit of social anxiety. he guards his emotions and tends to overwork himself, thus forgetting one's own needs at times. laurence is very choosy as to whom he connects with. no small talk, no casual talking. his partner has to challenge him on an intellectual level and share his values, particularly in deep conversations.

speaking about relationships, he seeks a sort of understanding—nothing that necessarily places so much importance on sex in a relationship. he likes being in control in bed and really loves intensity; for him, though, everything else is just trumped by the emotional. laurence is a bit difficult to put across, but when you get past the mask, you will get somebody very passionate, very caring, who actually just wants to find somebody that does understand him, basically.

face claim ; realistic ⎯ zario bolanos | anime ⎯ cheng xiaoshi

🚬 ⎯⎯ 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐙𝐔. 's profile.

souta is a mess, but somehow an endearing one. outwardly, he's hypercharismatic and adaptable, always wearing that charming persona, but he's got a seriously unstable mess emotionally. mostly, he struggles to establish an identity for himself and more often than not finds himself detached and lonely because of this. this manipulative streak he has is from some fear of rejection when he tries to be openly vulnerable. he works as a bartender, loves to indulge in music and photography, but does things like drinking and smoking as a coping mechanism. he yearns for honesty and depth in his relationships, but his fear of losing his identity—or just getting hurt—holds him back. an enigma, he is—walking and talking—charming, yet lost; craving intimacy, yet scared of it.

face claim ; realistic ⎯ kento yamazaki | anime ⎯ yoru / jin saotome ⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖ i will kiss u on the mouth if you are open for dark themes that'll have people clutching their pearls !! i love taboo themes a lot so i would also prefer if my partner did as well !! currently i am only looking for a m x m roleplay with these fellas !! if you are interested please either interact with this post or go ahead and send me a message ^^

[aiura-stan]

1-8, let’s not be late!

This is the last chapter in volume 1! I know it doesn't mean much to people reading the digital scan online, but... I like the visual of progress! Here is a photo of volume 1 irl:

it really is tiny. That explains why all the lines in the scan are blurry.

Ah… I get it. jinsei (人生）= life (person + life). I learned a new word… it’s N3 so I don’t feel that bad for not already knowing it, despite it being an incredibly basic one… Saiki, you really are a nerd, comparing life to rpg video games.

I like Saiki’s phrasing “it sounded like fun.” Life sounded like fun?

I wonder what the Japanese belief about souls before birth is. There’s not really much of one in Christianity. Hinduism and Buddhism both propose a life before birth as part of reincarnation. What is it here in the Saikiverse?

Personally, I kind of like the idea that a soul could have some fundamental interests and wants; more than that, curiosity. If souls exist. But I think they would have to be abstract things, like God and angels; things outside of our understanding while we are alive. I think this is the kind of thing that Toritsuka would know a lot about… maybe.

Okay that got off on a tangent.

Oh shit it’s this chapter! I totally forgot that this was in volume 1.

LMAO

Asou sensei… I am not sure how to feel about suicide being made funny. I guess: good? If you get a choice between laughing or crying, choose laughing… Nendou is such a pure soul, assuming that no one would want to end their own life on purpose.

Saiki won’t let him die <3 I am taking this as something sweet.

So… can Saiki hear people’s memories in these flashbacks? Or are they supposed to be fourth wall breaks? Both? I’m going with both. Rather than being like a movie, Saiki experiences flashbacks as though he were observing the person in the past (in other words, like he was really there.) That’s my take.

Also, Saiki has a ton of empathy. He just doesn’t show it. Like, this random guy (who ostensibly doesn’t have much going for him) tries to kill himself, and Saiki’s reaction is to compare his struggles in a way that makes sense to him; in video game terms. And he wants to save him and to help him. And he does.

Very mature of this random man, who a few hours ago was trying to fling himself off of a building, and a few minutes ago was talking about how he was too good for street performance. Had Nendou not intervened, I honestly don’t think he would have had the guts to do it…

Wow, I don’t know why this chapter is provoking my annoyance so bad. Hm. Well, maybe I do, but my Saiki k fan blog is no place for that.

In any case, it’s nice that Asou sensei gave this character a good ending (helped along by Saiki, of course.) Everyone deserves a chance to live a good life and do something that they enjoy. And being bad at something isn’t a crime. It’s just not a good idea to rely on income for something if you’re not that good at it (and not willing and/or able to work to get better.) Life lessons, I guess? Except it’s kind of undermined by Saiki. Which is a lesson in it of itself; sometimes fate intervenes and success comes regardless, I guess. Yeah, that’s an alright note to end on.

Another life lesson which is really profound— sometimes, all you need is one person to tell you that your work connected with them. Sometimes, that really is enough.

The only difficulty?? Saiki, you’re forgetting someone, aren’t you? A certain blue spiky haired, chihuahua sized someone who has a bold fake personality and a timid real one?

Aaaaand Saiki had turned this guy into Taylor Swift. fabulous.

Uh?? Translator error? He has 10 thousand copies, not ten million, right? Wait, why the hell am I wondering about this. I have the volume now and I can read Japanese numbers. let me check. Ok, it reads ハ… ハイ一万枚ありますから！(ha… hai ichi manmai arimasu kara!)

一万枚 (ichi manmai) = ten thousand.

ten million would be 千万 (sen man)

so yes, translation error. Translator probably got confused because 10 million yen is the amount of debt he has.

Honest to god this is one of the most fascinating tidbits about his powers and also an absolute crime that they left this out. I mean, I know why they did. But they should have stuck this detail about him projecting what’s stuck in his head somewhere in the anime, but they didn’t. It implies that to some degree Saiki’s telepathy isn’t always voluntary. And also that he doesn’t necessarily pick one person and beam thoughts into their heads. Hm. much to think about…

they were already discussing goods by the end of volume 1?! Well… Saiki k certainly did get merch in the end. I just wonder how much of it Asou sensei actually got money from, considering he didn’t get anything from the anime.

Alright, that concludes my review of the final chapter in this volume. Ja mata ne. end of 1-8💫

[darklinaforever]

If we are all idiots who don't know what grooming means i guess idiot is also Emma D'arcy since they literally said that. Gonna cry? Yall reaching again cause GRRM never ever stated once Daemon loved Rhaenyra. Neither Matt, they called the relationship odds, weird, strange, never love. GRRM only said it's the way to see his sides cause obviously in S1 besides Viserys, there's Rhaenyra who interacts with Daemon who has actually some kind of weird bond,also toxic, but it's not love, girl. Wait till Daemon's horizons will extrnd lmao Im going to check your blog to see your meltdown and laugh my ass off. Bye for now 😘

I literally did an article explaining why Emma D'Arcy was talking shit when she called this relationship grooming back in the day. As far as I know, Emma is a human being, right ? Isn't Emma D'Arcy a god who is right about everything ? In fact, in this same article where Emma was talking about grooming, also claimed that Rhaenyra was 16 years old (it seems to me) in episode 4, when in reality her character was canonically 19. Rather funny to take the word of an actor as gospel when the latter is immediately deceived about the age of his character. Also, Emma D'Arcy literally already said he would read Daemyra fanfictions... Crying about it ?

Also, I don't know what cave you lived in, but the daemyra relationship was definitely described as love by Matt Smith. He literally said that Daemon would give his life for Viserys and Rhaenyra. And also, it seems to me, designated Daemon as definitely loving Rhaenyra, even if yes, it's strange, except it's another world with other morals, not to judge with our modern vision what you stop acting like the idiots you are. Also, I don't have to justify over and over why Daemyra isn't in the grooming book or show. I literally made a huge post about this, as others have. It's not my place to educate you and in any case you are someone who voluntarily wishes to remain in ignorance on this subject in order to boast of a two-franc moral superiority.

Also, small compilation of moments where the writers / the HOTD team talked about love / romantic aspect / or something more powerful than tat, for Dameyra that I found. Hey, it's free :

[Sara Hess] does believe that Daemon and Rhaenyra are meant for each other, although of course, it's complicated. “Saying they 'love’ each other seems almost too simple,” Hess says, “it’s more that they have a profound, primal connection that nobody else understands.”

“Daemon and Rhaenyra — they're together at the beginning of my episode. Part of the thing that we felt was important was to believe that they were in love with each other. And not just believe it, but feel the electricity. I mean, I don't know about you guys, but I am very much in love with my husband, and I still have a crush on him. And when I see him, I still get chills. And I wanted to see that, I wanted to feel that from them. Because this was a delicate fleeting moment, as you know having seen the episode. We needed to feel the realism of that. And so the two of them [Matt and Emma] had a lot of conversations — even without me — where they were building their relationship, and building the chemistry. So I was really pleased when we got to shooting their first scene together, where Rhaenyra says 'I need to go back home’ — just the way he looked at her… I just love that.” - Geeta Patel.

[darkrpfinders]

hello everybody !! i just wanted to make a roleplay blog for all of my fandomless roleplays ヾ(≧∇≦)ゞ i am currently 19 years old, a broke little college student and someone who is currently residing within the est time zone ٩(˵˃̶ω˂̶˵)◞* i am currently looking for a long term fandomless oc partner who loves ooc talk !! i just overall love becoming friends with the people i am roleplaying with ^^ 18+ people ONLY !! i can go from semi lit, lit, to novella !! i tend to copy but please please please be literate and go slow in the plots !! i am 100% okay with smut as well as long as it does not take up the entire roleplay unless the scenario calls for it x3 i like a 20 / 80 smut to plot ratio !! i love to read and write !! and i have been in the roleplay community for roughly about 9 - 10 years now !! ( idk how i started so young if i'm being quite frank... ) i would prefer if i had a rather active roleplay partner but if not then thats perfectly fine !! i however, for my sake i would at least want a response every other day if that is okay !! ヾ( ˃ᴗ˂ )◞ • *✰ i do however also want to mention that i only roleplay on discord !!

🧸 ⎯⎯ 𝐂𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄. 's profile.

coven is really the sweetest guy. he's gentle, super introverted, super shy. he has always been the type that just notices so many tiny things about people just to make them feel heard and taken care of. on the exterior, a very composed and reliable person, though internally drowned by tons of insecurities in his head—mostly because he got bullied at school, some tough stuff with his childhood best friend, who turned out to be the biggest bully of his life. he's a creative soul: baking, painting, playing music. he also overthinks and stresses a whole lot.

he feels under big pressure since he's supposed to take over his family's café, and sometimes he feels like he's not strong enough for that. basically, he wants someone patient and understanding, someone who understands him and his passions. besides, he is a romantic soul, and in relationships, he searches for something mild and meaningful. he hasn't got much experience with love, yet he surely is the kind of guy who would open up just as soon as he would feel comfortable and secured.

face claim ; realistic ⎯ louis partridge | anime ⎯ yeonwoo sunjeong

🥃 ⎯⎯ 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐄. 's profile.

laurence is the kind of man who is all about intellect, especially when it comes to psychology. since he was little, he was fascinated by how people think and behave. smart and capable of explaining even the most intricate things in such a way that somehow would make sense to others, his students like him. he is serious and reserved but actually a very sensitive person who prefers deep, profound contact over light contact.

he is bad in big social environments and has a bit of social anxiety. he guards his emotions and tends to overwork himself, thus forgetting one's own needs at times. laurence is very choosy as to whom he connects with. no small talk, no casual talking. his partner has to challenge him on an intellectual level and share his values, particularly in deep conversations.

speaking about relationships, he seeks a sort of understanding—nothing that necessarily places so much importance on sex in a relationship. he likes being in control in bed and really loves intensity; for him, though, everything else is just trumped by the emotional. laurence is a bit difficult to put across, but when you get past the mask, you will get somebody very passionate, very caring, who actually just wants to find somebody that does understand him, basically.

face claim ; realistic ⎯ zario bolanos | anime ⎯ cheng xiaoshi

🚬 ⎯⎯ 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐙𝐔. 's profile.

souta is a mess, but somehow an endearing one. outwardly, he's hypercharismatic and adaptable, always wearing that charming persona, but he's got a seriously unstable mess emotionally. mostly, he struggles to establish an identity for himself and more often than not finds himself detached and lonely because of this. this manipulative streak he has is from some fear of rejection when he tries to be openly vulnerable. he works as a bartender, loves to indulge in music and photography, but does things like drinking and smoking as a coping mechanism. he yearns for honesty and depth in his relationships, but his fear of losing his identity—or just getting hurt—holds him back. an enigma, he is—walking and talking—charming, yet lost; craving intimacy, yet scared of it.

face claim ; realistic ⎯ kento yamazaki | anime ⎯ yoru / jin saotome ⊹ ࣪ ﹏𓊝﹏𓂁﹏⊹ ࣪ ˖ i will kiss u on the mouth if you are open for dark themes that'll have people clutching their pearls !! i love taboo themes a lot so i would also prefer if my partner did as well !! currently i am only looking for a m x m roleplay with these fellas !! if you are interested please either interact with this post or go ahead and send me a message ^^

.

[spin-sugar]

If a man adores you and when you are together the conversations and affection and sex are among the best you’ve ever had…the kind of man that you enjoy calling daddy..you find he is perfectly dom to your sub..but he is not able to give you the regular time and communication you desire because of work and/or prior trauma he has faced…can you be with him for a long period of time..or is it never going to work because of no matter how much you match on all kinds intimacy, you want a something more than intimacy?

This seems…interesting and wildly specific. I think you already know the answer to this question, but since you asked me an honest question, I’ll give you my honest answer:

It sounds like an intense attraction and great chemistry. Chemistry is one thing; compatibility is another. I’m a giver. I need to be with another giver. I completely understand that life gets busy and complex, but there’s a difference between being busy and being neglectful. Busy schedules and trauma be damned—having walls never works in the long-term when it comes to matters of the heart.

In my experience of dating men with successful, busy careers, when a man truly values you and your relationship, nothing will stop him from trying to make it work. If he really wants you, he won’t be comfortable with the risk of losing you. I know this because I’ve experienced it multiple times. Of course I’ve had my run with a couple of guys who didn’t have the greatest intentions. But, for the most part, I’ve been loved and loved well. I’ve had countless occasions in the past of men going out of their way to prioritize me—not out of obligation or annoying simp-like behavior, but to show that prioritizing our relationship and loving me properly isn’t a favor, it’s the bare minimum.

Regarding past trauma, I have deep empathy for someone’s healing journey. I understand and know firsthand that healing is a process, but it’s also crucial for individuals to take accountability for their actions. Trauma doesn’t make someone bad or define them—whatsoever. It’s just a shitty thing that happened in their life and now that person has the unfortunate reality and responsibility of healing from it. There are numerous resources available to help a man unpack his trauma: therapists, countless books and podcasts/social media accounts on attachment styles and healing attachment wounds (which is profound and can help explain A LOT), retreats for men seeking healthy masculinity, and various spiritual practices/philosophies. I know these resources work because I’ve utilized them in my own healing journey (excluding the retreats for men). There are many avenues to foster healing and access to those avenues are, for the most part, right at our fingertips.

To quote Carrie Bradshaw, “I am someone who is looking for love. Real love. Ridiculous…inconvenient…consuming…can't-live-without-each-other love.” I don’t mind getting down in the trenches of making a relationship work, as long as I know I’m not down there all by myself. I don’t mind love with some grit and determination to it. I know that takes patience and intention - something I have an abundance of when I know I’m in it together with someone. But, there’s nothing worse than being with someone who is comfortable making me feel lonely and overlooked. I might be sassy and strong in my day-to-day but I’m also sensitive and have a big-ass heart. No one has a crystal ball, but I know for things to work I need consistent and mutual effort, interest, passion, shared experiences, communication, and that delightful, nose-wrinkling affection that stems from a strong mental and emotional connection. It’s important to note that I didn’t say ‘constant.’ No one can sustain that level of intensity all the time, nor would I want them to—there’s definitely such a thing as too much. The key focus here is consistency, shared values, and prioritizing one another. The hot, kinky sex and Dom/sub dynamics you mentioned could naturally follow this kind of connection and are fantastic perks, but they’re not the main dish; they’re the flavorful seasoning that adds spice, spontaneity, and fun to the relationship. I don’t want the spice if I don’t have something to sink my teeth into.

Bottom line: my time and energy are just as valuable as anyone else’s. I have children to raise, a demanding job, and a busy life. I’ve had life kick me right square in the teeth multiple times since a young age and have had to pick myself up, dust myself off, and face my personal adversities head-on. I know busy. I know hardships. I know accountability. I know healing. I’ve seen too many people use their busy schedules or previous trauma as excuses for hurtful and/or selfish behavior. I’m not perfect but I have good intentions and I know how to appreciate and value a good thing when I see it. I know I’m a good woman, a good mom, and a good partner. I’m flawed and imperfect, just like everyone else, but I deserve to be loved consistently and fully by a good man. I’d rather wait four more decades for the right connection than settle for something half-hearted. If a man adores me, he’ll make damn sure I know it and won’t let me forget it either—his actions and communication will align with his true feelings.

[akira-sss]

Imagine waking up every morning to devastation—a world where safety is a dream, and hope feels just out of reach. Vetted by: 1) gazavetters my number verified on the list is ( #89 ) 2) a-shade-of-blue Here or Here 3) 90-ghost Here or Here 4) dlxxv-vetted-donations Here

Dear Friend,

My name is Ghazi Al Amoudi, and I am reaching out to you from Gaza, where my family and I are living through an unimaginable nightmare. Our home, once a place of warmth and safety, has been destroyed. Now, we are left to endure freezing nights and hunger in a makeshift shelter, clinging to hope amidst relentless uncertainty.

Each day begins with the same crushing reality—fear, loss, and the struggle to survive. Yet, even in this darkness, I believe in the power of compassion and the kindness of strangers to help us find a way forward.

I am humbly asking for your support. Your donation, no matter the size, can provide my family with the essentials we desperately need—shelter, food, and the chance to rebuild our lives. If you cannot donate, please consider sharing our story. Spreading the word can connect us with others who might be able to help.

Here is the link to my campaign: https://gofund.me/8a2c70d7. Your generosity could transform our lives and bring us closer to safety and dignity.

From the depths of my heart, thank you for standing with us. Your kindness is a beacon of hope in our time of need.

With profound gratitude, Ghazi Al Amoudi

30% of my long-term goal

3,041€ out of 10,000€

Donations are protected by GOFUNDME

Hi guys, please consider helping in any way you can — every dollar and share counts :')

[alittlebitofloveliness]

3, 4, 7, 9 (outsiders asks)

EEEEE thanks for the ask anon!

3. Favourite character outside the main seven

Tim Shepard! I feel like Hinton threw mentions of him and Curly in there as a sort of foil to Darry and Ponyboy's dynamic but I have SOOOO many headcanons about him (and Curly and Angela too).

PS. The only reason I said Tim and not Angela is because she's not technically mentioned in the book. Angela is my favourite outsiders universe character ever and since theres not enough content for her I've decided I have to make my own lmao

4. Rank the main seven

OOF omg ok this was a hard one

First, Steve. Probably seems really random and unpopular but I feel like theres so much depth to his character that there just wasn't enough book to provide. We know he has a rough background and a soft spot for Sodapop and that Ponyboy's narration of him is biased since he thinks Steve doesn't like him. Tbh tho I think Steve really does care about Ponyboy in his own way, it's just hard for Ponyboy (and probably a lot of younger readers to see). My love of Steve was kind of an evolution but I can firmly say he's my favourite out of the gang atp.

Second, Darry. My man was a 20 y/o whose parent died who had to give up on his dreams to raise two younger brothers who he loved so much the feelings bled off the page. He NEVER should have hit ponyboy and it was such an out of character moment for him- AS IT WAS INTENDED TO BE. I have a LOT of thoughts about him but as someone who has grown that I'm almost the same age as him I cant IMAGINE having gone through what he went through and dealt with it as well as he did. My man needs more recognition.

Third, Ponyboy. He's such a dumbass and a weirdo but so reltable and sarcastic and profound. He's a main character who never gets in the way of other main characters and he's so quintessentially 13 that reading his story when I was that age fundamentally altered my brain chemistry and I haven't been the same since.

Fourth, Johnny. He was the gangs favourite for a reason and such a good friend to Ponyboy. I feel like the fandom infantilizes him sometimes, which is partially due to Ponyboy's narration, but the book makes it clear he's a really tough kid who looks like trouble but isn't. He's such a prime example of how the lottery of birth can fuck up someone's life. He is so tragic to me because he never had a chance.

Fifth, Sodapop. I know he's a fan favourite and I'm not saying I don't like him, but he's just kind of...boring? imo. Like, not much there, and not as much depth as some of the other characters. maybe its because we see a lot more of him in Ponyboy's thoughts but I'm not curious about him the way I am about some of the others.

Sixth, Dally. He's not likeable- but he is, as johnny said, gallant. I know it was by design that he's mysterious but I wish we got more backstory for him. I've just never connected to him the way I connected to other characters.

Seventh, Two-Bit. Again, probably unpopular and I know he's a fandom favourite but to me his issues have always jumped out more than his redeeming qualities. His alcoholism is a hallmark of his character, and i think at one point Ponyboy mentions he's a dead weight on his family's finances. He also has a little sister that's Ponyboy's age thats mentioned like once? I just feel like he's kind of a deadbeat for his family if that makes sense.

7. Favourite non romantic relationships. i could (and probably should atp, whoops this got long) make a whole other post about this but:

darry and ponyboy's relationship

johnny and ponyboy's friendship

steve and sodapop's frienship

johnny and dally's relationship

9. Favourite scene/moment from the book?

When Ponyboy runs directly into Darry's arms as soon as he sees him at the hospital. Gets me right in the feels every time.

Bonus: the moment when that guy tells Ponyboy he shoudn't smoke and he's all confused, like why? theres not a no smoking sign? and the dude is just like uh? but youre a kid? it's just such a stark reminder that while Ponyboy has grown up sheltered in some ways he has absolutely not been in others and his background is really rough and agh it gets me every time its such a clever scene.

ANYWAY this got longer than i meant it to, whoops. Thanks ever so much for the ask :)

[winntersnow]

The mortal in the immortal - an Aldo character study

I would think for most of you, your minds hit a blank seeing this pop up on the tags.

‘Who’s Aldo?’

I don’t blame you, guy doesn’t appear all to much.

I only care and know him because I’ve always had such a strange fascination for what I like to call ‘nothing guys’.

Very small, even smaller than side characters in media that are so insignificant that most fans don’t even know their names.

Aldo of course being one of them.

One of the three immortal brothers in the International Assassins arc that caught my eye once I fully understood what was happening with the guy's little mini arc with all the other insanity going on.

Even if it was small I think it was all incredibly interesting, especially for a nothing guy.

I would go as far as to say I think flew over people's heads and misunderstood it as a whole the full meaning of what Aldo goes through besides just ‘he was guilty.’

It’s something a bit more interesting and profound about the arc of a person who discovers their own humanity for the first time and what such said person chooses to do with it.

With all that let’s start getting into it shall we?

Right from the very start there is something a little different about Aldo compared to his sibling.

With Aldo vomiting after he and his brother kill Tendo, Kurose and the unnamed third devil hunter they’re with, and his brothers not really caring much, to say the least.

As this is his first kill and all that.

Why overall, this was his first kill when his brothers clearly killed multiple people themselves is anybody’s guess and not exactly important for what I’m trying to convey but just for details sake it’s either because he’s the youngest brother, something to deal with the scars on his eye or a mix of the two.

With them keeping Aldo away from the brunt of murdering at least.

Something that gives them a bit of depth methinks, trying to protect him from that.

Either way it’s very clear that so much of Joey’s and the unnamed second brother (let’s call him Kirtus for convenience) humanity has been completely sapped away from them through the killings they’ve had to have committed.

Through their own ego and beliefs.

They’re Ruthless, soulless, and emotionless.

They quite literally say this about themselves.

Aldo though? Not so much.

Not at all from everything that goes on but the important thing is, he feels he is soulless like them.

Believes it extremely strongly even.

It sounds like I’m jumping a little ahead of myself, but again it’s quite literally something Aldo thinks to himself remembering the things his brothers said to him when he’s pretending to be Kurose and connecting it to his ‘immortality’.

‘I am immortal.’

It’s a phrase that’s said multiple times by the brothers and most importantly by Aldo that most people misinterpret.

They are of course not really immortal.

Joey and Kirtus die.

So quickly even, with Kirtus being hit by a car and Joey being killed by Yoshida.

Their mentioned survivals when we first see them was luck and luck alone.

It’s something that boosts their ego on living sure but what they really mean when they say this is their removal from their emotional save feelings.

They are so far removed from their own humanity and morals that they feel nothing about anything.

Put to further sense when exactly this phrase is said by Aldo in particular.

After his brothers are killed, and before he goes to confront the others (in the building that’s eventually cast into hell.)

Like in a very repetitive, broken kind of way.

Desperately even.

(After his siblings are killed)

(Before entering the building)

He’s again enforcing what his brothers have always told him on to himself in these moments his emotions have to be at a high point.

That’s the reason, not because the guy thinks he literally can’t die.

It’s what he’s been raised to believe or think.

A big part of his mental decline along with his family's deaths of course.

Trying to continue to convince himself that he’s not scared, that he can’t feel anything because once again he has no soul, so he shouldn’t be feeling right?

Moving onto the actual meat of this entire thing now that any confusion on this phrase is fully cleared out.

Aldo once again is not like his brothers.

His brothers have fully made this phrase true about themselves, but Aldo even if he believes he’s soulless, absolutely is not, and some that he himself starts to learn.

Crashing down on him after he takes the appearance of Kurose and flees to the dead man’s friend's house for shelter.

Already fighting with himself for sure.

He gets to the guy's house with a face that doesn’t belong to him and-

Loses it.

Badly, breaks down sobbing apologies.

Everything really and truly crashing down on him.

The life he took most obviously.

People who don’t have emotions.

Those who are soulless do not cry like this.

Aldo is not immortal.

He has emotions, he has a heart and it’s horrible.

It’s a horrible thing to all crash on a person after they lost everything and taken an innocent life.

After he quite literally has nothing now but this.

So what does Aldo do with these new realizations about this?

Stay with the friend?

Run maybe to go anywhere else? 

Start a new life away from this?

Do anything good at all?

No.

He denies it.

He hides from it and dives right back into a thing he now fully knows is wrong by the mere mention of a brother.

His own mind going to his dead ones.

‘A pro always gets the job done.’

He’s choosing to go back after all that.

After everything that just fell on his head, with all that guilt that really does belong to him and the gravity of his actions..

Aldo decides to go back and finish what his brothers started.

Get the job done like a ‘pro’.

The next time we see him repeating that phrase again; ‘I am immortal.’

He’s gained so much, and can again logically get away but clings back to that, to go on the same path.

Unlike before it’s a very direct and clear denial of a thing he already knows isn’t really true.

More of a promise to make it true until he’s like his brothers.

To make himself soulless and emotionless like them but doing the same things that made them immortal too.

Realized emotions be damned.

A sort of continuation to this very unfortunate cycle of the brothers of losing everything then losing their own humanity in their own convincing of themselves that they are not human.

Aldo managed to get through one round of it but not quite this round after getting so close to getting out of it.

There is a mortal in the immortal a lot of it, even after believing all his life there wasn’t, even with his immortal brothers around him.

But he chooses to ignore it.

To try and hurt more people which is where his arc comes to a close.

Getting tossed out of a window, pretending to be Halloweened then we never see him again.

Really a mystery what happened to him, if he went back to America, or stayed in Japan.

With how everything ended for him and the direction his arch went in more keen to believe he didn’t go in a very good direction.

Even him deciding to kill again is very debatable with his pushing away of his humanity.

Even if that humanity is still there in every right for now at least until it’s gone.

Something we will never be sure of unless he appears, which I doubt he will.

He’s just a nothing guy with a very interesting arc on his own morality as a person and what he chose to do with it in the way he did.

I enjoyed reading it a lot and think about Aldo every now and then.

Wish people gave him and his arc the attention it deserves to have.

Something I can hopefully give him just a little bit of and if not?

It’s just fun to think in detail about my own thoughts.

Thank you for reading my thoughts on such a minor character of the face stealing immortal.

That fuck ass immortal etc etc.

[statementlou]

Hi, how was your show!!!??

Thank you for asking! It was great, OBVIOUSLY. I saw Louis play a short set in late 2019, but was not able to go to Walls tour, so this was my first time at a proper tour show (in Berkeley last night) and it was brilliant! I have been trying to figure out what to say besides that though cause tbh there are two posts I want to make. So… both? First for my recap- it was so loud, like the music was just normal concert loud but I had to plug my ears against the screaming between songs cause it was way louder- I just figured it was the in person experience difference but no, Louis confirmed, “you guys have been so fucking loud in here tonight, it's actually been hard for me to hear” so GO US! The chokingly thick haze of weed smoke (“I already feel the energy, I already feel the love, I can already smell the weed,” he was not fucking kidding) to usher in HIC in California (and all the other songs lol) didn’t diminish the energy a bit! Truly, there is nothing like the energy of shared live music, and meeting eyes of other fans (through the trees) and sharing that excitement. And seeing actual physical unmediated Louis, just existing in space being a real live human, yeah. Something.

I was like I'm not gonna bother to take pictures or anything, I just want to dance and hear and look, everyone else's pics will be better anyway but then the TECH, you guys know how much I love the fucking aesthetic of this tour and the screens were SO PRETTY in real life!! So in fact I KEPT getting my phone out for that so like... good one tech crew, you got me. Look for many low quality aesthetic posts of the screens incoming, sorry not sorry. Common People was SO PRETTY, his voice was so clear and lovely and I'm so glad that's been added in. WDBHG went HARD live, holy shit, SO FUN (tho tbh me as Louis thinking I know all the words to that song but it turns out there are a lot? And I do not? At least I was in the best possible company fumbling and mumbling through parts.) Heartbroken I didn’t get Saturdays live (honestly the one song I think might have been my exception to the next thing I’m gonna say) but so thankful for BTM🖤

But part two of this post is to say that watching the livestreams with you all is also brilliant and special and also lets me experience the beauty of Louis’ voice and presence and connection and the feeling of experiencing something together. I wasn’t able to go last year, and I know some of you (many many thousands worldwide!) won’t be able to go this year either or maybe ever, and I know you are seeing the posts telling you there is nothing like being there and you can't really know or appreciate Louis/ Louis’ voice/ the experience unless you are there in person and it feels sad and I want to tell you that I have done the research now and I don’t think that is true. Most people who go to the show won’t have a Y/N moment and be Perceived by Louis or be at barricade, and I don’t think the experience we are having online together is less real or profound than the live experience. His voice sounded fucking gorgeous and soaring and I loved it, but even if you are there it is mediated by all kinds of tech; I imagine getting to be present for an acoustic performance really would be something that couldn’t be replicated but I think a really good live through a clear speaker or a nice quality show video is in fact just fine. Some of the songs did hit me harder in person and get my blood pumping in a different way, yes- but others I actually think I get a fuller experience of in a chiller more focused environment when everything isn’t flying by as quickly. Like I don’t think the megamix would impact the way it does (UGH I LOVE IT SO MUCH) if I just saw it live once and done, for example. Anyway I’m just saying if you can’t make your own (go to the show) store bought is fine (hang with us at stream time! or just whatever online content). While I never intend to watch every stream in fact I am usually right here and love to chat and squee with people, come hang out, or just watch some videos and enjoy the magic.

[knifearo]

I am a romance repulsed aro and I honestly never knew what a QPR really is. Or maybe I do have an idea, and the idea I have in mind isn't very favorable because to me it looks like a different flavor of 'aromantic people can date too!'

Can someone pls help me understand how this even works because i don't want to base my definition off from guessing what it means by observing what people make it out to be.

okay so as a nonpartnering aro i am going to preface this with the fact that i am ALSO definitely not an expert on qprs. i will offer you the wikipedia definition first:

Queerplatonic relationships (QPR) and queerplatonic partnerships (QPP) are committed intimate relationships which are not romantic in nature. They may differ from usual close friendships by having more explicit commitment, validation, status, structure, and norms, similar to a conventional romantic relationship. The concept originates in aromantic and asexual spaces in the LGBT community. Like romantic relationships, queerplatonic relationships are sometimes said to involve a deeper and more profound emotional connection than typical friendship.

personally i think my best understanding of the term is that it's a platonic (nonromantic) relationship that's been queered (in that it is a different kind of relationship from "typical" platonic relationships). this comes with all kinds of caveats for sure and like i was saying in that earlier post we're just not far enough in the popular discourse with some of our terms. platonic is not a term that encompasses all nonromantic relationships, and the wikipedia entry essentially saying that it's "more than friends" is part of a kind of rhetoric that a lot of aromantic people consider amatonormative. generally though! from what i understand. a queerplatonic relationship can be whatever you want it to be. another anon just said that "it doesn't go friendship -> QPR -> romantic relationship. they're all just……. relationships!!!!" which is a fantastic way to put it. a qpr is whatever two people who have a relationship that they think is best described as a qpr have. queerness often inherently defies labels etc. etc.

i know the idea of partnering specifically can feel like it's just following the conventions of amatonormativity and the expectation of pairing up with one other person. i would personally not label my relationships as qprs at this time in my life for that reason. what it comes down to is how people choose to describe their own experiences though! ultimately the queer people in qprs are not the ones making it "romance lite"; they are queer people in queer relationships. the people who make it feel like "romance lite" are the alloro people who ARE falsely equating it to "dating for aros". and i think we can just safely ignore those guys. or tell them to shut up. and go back to having queer relationships.

everyone please add on anything you feel like needs to be added/corrected about qprs!!! saying rn that i am NOT the expert and i defer to those of us who engage in qprs <2 hope this is still helpful though :)