#and then you add Sage into the mix now

[usedtobeathrowaway]

how much do you think it weighed on Eggman's mind learning his grandfather, whom he based some of his life and ideology on, in the end wanted to destroy all humans, destroy the earth... that, Eggman, his own grandson was on?

[pucksandpower]

Paddock Princess

Formula 1 (literally half the grid) x Vettel!Reader

Summary: when the drivers find out that you’re planning to have a baby all by yourself, they offer to help out by playing sperm roulette … the results are surprisingly wholesome

The buzz of excitement fills the air as the paddock comes to life on a sunny morning. Drivers, team personnel, and media representatives mill about, but there’s a palpable sense of anticipation among a particular group of racers gathered near the Ferrari motorhome.

Max leans against the sleek red structure, his eyes darting around nervously. “Has anyone seen her yet?” He asks, his voice tinged with a mix of excitement and anxiety.

Charles shakes his head, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Not yet. But she should be here soon, right?”

“I still can’t believe we’re doing this,” Lando chimes in, bouncing on his toes. “It’s like something out of a movie.”

Carlos nods in agreement, a grin spreading across his face. “A very strange movie, but I’m here for it.”

George glances at his watch, his brow furrowed. “She’s usually here by now. You don’t think she’s having second thoughts, do you?”

“No way,” Oscar says confidently. “You know her. Once she sets her mind to something, that’s it.”

Lewis, standing slightly apart from the younger drivers, offers a reassuring smile. “Oscar’s right. She’s one of the most determined people I know. If this is what she wants, she’ll see it through.”

Logan, the newest addition to the group, shifts nervously. “I still can’t believe you guys talked me into this. My mom would freak if she knew.”

Alex pats him on the shoulder. “Relax, mate. It’s all anonymous, remember? Besides, think of how happy she’ll be.”

Fernando, leaning against a nearby barrier, nods sagely. “Exactly. We’re doing this for her, because she deserves it.”

Lance, who’s been quiet until now, suddenly straightens up. “Heads up, guys. I think I see her coming.”

The group falls silent as you approach, your press pass swinging from your neck and a warm smile on your face. “Morning, boys,” you greet them cheerfully. “Why do you all look like you’re up to something?”

Max clears his throat, trying to sound casual. “Us? Never. Just, uh, enjoying the nice weather.”

You raise an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Uh-huh. And I suppose you’re all gathered here by pure coincidence?”

Charles steps forward, his charm on full display. “Can’t we just be happy to see our favorite reporter?”

You laugh, the sound lightening the mood. “Alright, alright. I’ll play along. But seriously, what’s going on? You’re all acting weird.”

The drivers exchange glances, silently debating who should speak first. Finally, Lewis takes the lead.

“We heard about your decision,” he says gently. “About wanting to have a baby.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “Oh. I didn’t realize ... I mean, I only told a couple of people.”

Lando grins sheepishly. “Word travels fast in the paddock. Especially when it’s about you.”

You look around at the group, a mix of emotions playing across your face. “Okay, so you know. But that doesn’t explain why you’re all acting like you’re planning a heist.”

Carlos steps forward, his expression earnest. “We want to help.”

You blink, confusion evident in your eyes. “Help? How?”

George takes a deep breath before plunging in. “We’ve all agreed to donate sperm. To give you options, you know?”

Your jaw drops, and for a moment, you’re speechless. “You ... what?”

Oscar jumps in, his words tumbling out in a rush. “We know you said you were thinking about using a sperm bank, but we thought, well, why not use someone you actually know?”

“And trust,” Alex adds quickly.

You look around at the group, your expression a mix of shock, confusion, and something that might be amusement. “Let me get this straight. All of you,” you gesture at the assembled drivers, “want to donate sperm so I can have a baby?”

They nod in unison, and you can’t help but laugh. “This is ... I don’t even know what to say. It’s incredibly sweet, but also completely insane.”

Fernando steps forward, his expression serious. “We know it’s unconventional. But you’re important to all of us. We want to support you in any way we can.”

You shake your head, still trying to process the situation. “I appreciate that, truly. But guys, this is a huge decision. It’s not just about me having a baby. One of you would be a father.”

Max nods, his face set in determination. “We’ve thought about that. A lot, actually.”

“And we’re okay with it,” Lando adds. “Whatever level of involvement you want, we’ll respect that.”

You look at them, your eyes narrowing slightly. “Wait a minute. How exactly would this work? I can’t exactly pick one of you. That would be ...”

“Awkward,” Lance finishes for you. “We know. That’s why we came up with a plan.”

Logan, who’s been quiet until now, speaks up. “We’d all donate, and then the clinic would mix the samples together.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “So it would be like ... artificial insemination roulette?”

Carlos grins. “Exactly! That way, no one knows who the father is. It could be any of us.”

You shake your head, a disbelieving laugh escaping you. “This is absolutely crazy. You know that, right?”

Lewis steps closer, his expression gentle. “Maybe. But we all care about you. We want you to be happy, and we know how much you want this.”

You look around at the group, taking in their earnest expressions. “I don’t know what to say. This is ... a lot to process.”

George nods understandingly. “Of course it is. We don’t expect you to decide right now. Just ... think about it, okay?”

You nod slowly, still looking a bit dazed. “Okay. I’ll think about it. But guys, this is a huge thing you’re offering. Are you sure you’ve really thought it through?”

Alex speaks up, his voice calm and reassuring. “We have. We’ve talked about it a lot, actually. We know it’s not a decision to make lightly.”

“But we’re all in agreement,” Oscar adds. “If this is what you want, we want to help make it happen.”

You take a deep breath, looking around at the group. “I need some time to think about this. It’s ... a lot to take in.”

Max nods, reaching out to squeeze your shoulder gently. “Take all the time you need. We’re not going anywhere.”

As you turn to walk away, still looking a bit shell-shocked, the drivers watch you go with a mix of hope and anxiety.

“Do you think she’ll go for it?” Lando asks, nervously fidgeting with his sleeve.

Charles shrugs, his eyes still following your retreating figure. “I don’t know. It’s a big decision.”

“We’ve done our part,” Fernando says sagely. “Now it’s up to her.”

The group falls into a contemplative silence, each lost in their own thoughts about the potential consequences of their offer.

Several days pass, and the paddock is abuzz with speculation. The drivers have managed to keep their offer under wraps, but your contemplative mood hasn’t gone unnoticed.

You find yourself cornered by the group once again, this time in a quiet corner of the paddock after qualifying.

“So,” Max says, trying to sound casual and failing miserably. “Have you, uh, given any thought to our offer?”

You look around at the expectant faces surrounding you and take a deep breath. “I have, actually. I’ve thought about little else, to be honest.”

The tension in the air is palpable as they wait for your decision.

“I’m still not sure this is the right thing to do,” you begin, and you can see their faces fall. “But ... I can’t deny that the idea has a certain appeal.”

Hope blossoms in their expressions, and you can’t help but smile at their eagerness.

“Before I say yes,” you continue, holding up a hand to stave off their excitement, “I need to know that you’ve all really thought this through. This isn’t just about me having a baby. One of you will be a father, even if we don’t know which one.”

Lewis nods solemnly. “We understand. We’ve talked about it a lot, believe me.”

“And you’re all okay with the possibility of having a child out there that you might never know is yours?” You press.

They exchange glances before nodding in unison.

“We know it’s not a conventional situation,” Charles says. “But we’re all willing to accept whatever comes of this.”

You look at each of them in turn, searching their faces for any sign of doubt. Finding none, you take a deep breath.

“Okay,” you say finally. “If you’re all sure about this ... then yes. I’d be honored to accept your offer.”

The reaction is immediate and overwhelming. Cheers erupt from the group, and before you know it, you’re engulfed in a group hug.

“This is going to be amazing,” Lando exclaims, his face lit up with excitement.

“You’re going to be an incredible mother,” Alex adds, his smile warm and sincere.

As the excitement dies down, practical considerations start to surface.

“So, how do we do this?” Oscar asks. “Do we all just show up at the clinic or ...”

You can’t help but laugh at the mental image. “I think it might be best if we handle this discreetly. I’ll talk to the clinic and set everything up. They can give you instructions on how to make your ... contributions.”

George nods, looking relieved. “That sounds like a good plan. We don’t want this getting out to the media.”

“Agreed,” you say firmly. “This stays between us. No one else needs to know the details.”

The group nods in agreement, and you feel a wave of affection for these men who are willing to go to such lengths for you.

“I can’t believe this is really happening,” you say, shaking your head in wonder.

Fernando smiles, his eyes twinkling. “Believe it. In a few months, you could be on your way to motherhood.”

The reality of the situation starts to sink in, and you feel a mix of excitement and nerves. “This is going to change everything, isn’t it?”

“Change can be good,” Carlos says, giving you a reassuring smile. “And you won’t be alone. We’ll all be here to support you.”

You look around at the group, feeling overwhelmed by their support and affection. “Thank you. All of you. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you for this.”

Max grins, lightening the mood. “Well, naming the kid after me would be a good start.”

The group erupts in laughter, and you roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Nice try, Verstappen. But I think we’ll be steering clear of any names that might give away paternity.”

As the laughter dies down, a comfortable silence falls over the group. The magnitude of what you’ve all agreed to hangs in the air, but it’s accompanied by a sense of excitement and possibility.

“So,” Lance says, breaking the silence. “I guess the next step is to set up appointments at the clinic?”

You nod, feeling a flutter of nervous excitement in your stomach. “Yeah, I’ll get that sorted out and let you all know the details.”

“And then ...” Logan trails off, looking a bit overwhelmed.

“And then we wait,” Lewis finishes for him. “And hope for the best.”

You look around at the group of men surrounding you, each one ready to potentially become a father for your sake. It’s an unconventional situation, to say the least, but as you take in their supportive smiles and excited eyes, you can’t help but feel that you’re embarking on something truly special.

“Well, boys,” you say, a smile spreading across your face. “I guess we’re really doing this. Let Operation Make A Baby commence.”

***

The hospital waiting room crackles with nervous energy as eleven Formula 1 drivers pace, fidget, and attempt to distract themselves. The air is thick with anticipation, and every time the door opens, heads snap up in unison, hoping for news.

Max runs a hand through his hair for the hundredth time. “How long has it been now?” He asks, his voice tight with tension.

George checks his watch. “About six hours since we got here. But labor can take a while, especially for first-time mothers.”

“I still can’t believe this is really happening,” Lando says, his leg bouncing incessantly. “One of us is about to become a father.”

Charles nods, his eyes fixed on the door. “It’s surreal. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and find out this was all a dream.”

“Not a dream, mate,” Alex says, patting Charles on the shoulder. “Very much real.”

The door swings open, and a nurse steps out. The drivers collectively hold their breath, but she merely smiles apologetically and heads down the hallway.

Carlos groans. “This waiting is killing me. How are we supposed to just sit here?”

“We could place bets on who the father is,” Logan suggests with a nervous laugh.

Lewis shakes his head, a small smile on his face. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. We agreed we wouldn’t try to figure it out, remember?”

“Lewis is right,” Fernando says sagely. “What matters is that the baby and the mother are healthy.”

Oscar nods in agreement. “Exactly. We’re all in this together, regardless of biology.”

Lance, who’s been quietly observing until now, speaks up. “Do you think she’s scared? I mean, we’re all nervous wrecks out here, and we’re not the ones giving birth.”

The group falls silent, contemplating Lance’s words. It’s a sobering thought, reminding them of the magnitude of what’s happening just beyond those doors.

“She’s strong,” Max says finally, his voice filled with admiration. “Stronger than all of us put together. She’ll be fine.”

As if on cue, the door swings open again, and this time, a doctor steps out. The drivers scramble to their feet, forming a semicircle around her.

“Gentlemen,” the doctor says, a smile playing at her lips. “I’m happy to inform you that both mother and baby are doing well. It’s a healthy baby girl.”

A collective cheer erupts from the group, followed by a flurry of hugs and backslaps. The tension that’s been building for hours finally breaks, replaced by jubilant relief.

“When can we see them?” Charles asks eagerly.

The doctor holds up a hand. “The mother is resting now, but she’s asked to see you all in about an hour. She wants you to meet the baby together.”

As the doctor leaves, the drivers look at each other, a mix of excitement and nerves on their faces.

“A girl,” Lando says, a goofy grin spreading across his face. “We have a daughter.”

“She has a daughter,” Lewis gently corrects. “We’re ... well, I’m not sure what we are exactly.”

“We’re family,” Fernando says firmly. “All of us and the little one.”

The next hour passes in a blur of excited chatter and speculation. Finally, a nurse appears to escort them to the private room where you and the baby are waiting.

As they file into the room, the sight that greets them renders them momentarily speechless. You’re propped up in the bed, looking tired but radiant, cradling a tiny bundle wrapped in a soft pink blanket.

You look up as they enter, a soft smile on your face. “Hey, guys. Come meet your daughter.”

The drivers approach cautiously, as if afraid they might break the spell. You adjust the blanket, revealing a tiny face with rosebud lips and a button nose.

“She’s beautiful,” Max breathes, his eyes wide with wonder.

“She’s perfect,” Charles adds, his voice choked with emotion.

You beam at them, your eyes shining. “Want to hold her?”

After a moment of hesitation, Lewis steps forward. With practiced ease, he gently takes the baby from you, cradling her carefully in his arms.

“Hello, little one,” he coos softly. “Welcome to the world.”

The other drivers crowd around, each wanting a closer look. As Lewis passes the baby to Carlos, the scrutiny intensifies.

“Is it just me, or does she have Max’s nose?” Lando asks, peering closely at the tiny face.

Max leans in, his brow furrowed. “I don’t see it. But those ears ... they look like yours, Lando.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Boys, she’s about one hour old. I think it’s a bit early to be playing guess the father, don’t you?”

The drivers have the grace to look sheepish, but their curiosity is far from satisfied.

As the baby is passed from driver to driver, the observations continue.

“She has a strong grip,” Alex notes as tiny fingers wrap around his thumb. “Definitely going to be a racer.”

“Look at those long eyelashes,” Oscar marvels. “Those have to be from Charles.”

Charles preens a bit at this, while the others roll their eyes good-naturedly.

When it’s Fernando’s turn to hold the baby, he studies her with a thoughtful expression. “You know,” he says slowly, “I think she has your smile.”

You raise an eyebrow. “She hasn’t even smiled yet.”

He shakes his head, a mysterious smile on his face. “Trust me. I can tell.”

As the baby makes her way back to you, the drivers settle into chairs around the room, their eyes never leaving the tiny bundle.

“So,” George says, breaking the comfortable silence. “Have you thought about names?”

You nod, looking down at your daughter. “I have, actually. I was thinking ... Nessa. It means miracle. I thought it was fitting, given how she came into our lives.”

“Nessa,” Logan repeats, testing the name. “I like it. It’s beautiful.”

The others murmur their agreement, and you feel a wave of relief. Naming a baby is hard enough without having to consider the opinions of eleven potential fathers.

“Nessa it is, then,” you say, smiling down at the sleeping infant.

Lance, who’s been quiet until now, speaks up. “Can I ask ... how are you feeling? About all of this, I mean.”

You take a moment to consider the question. “Honestly? I’m overwhelmed. Excited, terrified, grateful ... all at once. But mostly, I’m just in awe. Of her, of this whole situation, of all of you.”

The drivers exchange glances, a mix of emotions playing across their faces.

“We’re the ones who should be in awe of you,” Carlos says softly. “You’ve given us an incredible gift.”

“He’s right,” Max adds. “No matter which one of us is her biological father, we’re all going to love her. And you.”

You feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “Thank you. All of you. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

As if sensing the emotional moment, Nessa chooses that moment to wake up, her tiny face scrunching up as she lets out a wail.

“Oh boy,” Lando says, his eyes wide. “That’s quite a set of lungs she’s got there.”

You laugh, adjusting Nessa in your arms. “Well, she is a paddock baby. Got to make herself heard over those engines somehow.”

As you soothe the baby, the drivers watch in fascination. It’s clear that despite their earlier bravado, the reality of a newborn is a bit daunting.

“So, uh, what happens now?” Oscar asks, voicing the question on everyone’s mind.

You look up from Nessa, who’s settled back into sleep. “Well, we’ll be here for a couple more days. After that ... I guess we figure it out as we go along.”

Lewis nods thoughtfully. “We’ll need to work out a schedule. Make sure you have support, especially during race weekends.”

“And we’ll need to baby-proof our garages,” Alex adds. “Can’t have her crawling into a stack of tires.”

The conversation turns to practical matters — childcare arrangements, safety considerations, and how to balance their racing careers with their new roles as ... well, whatever they are to Nessa.

As they talk, you can’t help but marvel at the scene. Eleven of the world’s most elite drivers, discussing diaper brands and the merits of various baby carriers with the same intensity they usually reserve for tire strategies and aerodynamics.

“You know,” you say, interrupting a heated debate about the best brand of baby formula, “I think Nessa might be the luckiest baby in the world.”

The drivers pause, looking at you quizzically.

You smile, looking around at each of them. “She’s got eleven of the most dedicated, passionate, and competitive men in the world looking out for her. Plus, she’s guaranteed to have the coolest bring your parent to school day ever.”

The room erupts in laughter, the tension of the day finally breaking.

“Just wait until she’s old enough to drive,” Max says with a grin. “We’ll have her in a kart before she can walk.”

“Oh no,” you groan, though you’re smiling. “I’ve created a monster, haven’t I?”

“Eleven monsters,” Charles corrects with a wink. “Don’t forget, we’re all in this together.”

As the laughter dies down, a comfortable silence falls over the room. Nessa sleeps peacefully in your arms, blissfully unaware of the extraordinary circumstances of her birth and the unique family she’s been born into.

Fernando breaks the silence. “You know,” he says thoughtfully, “in many ways, this little one embodies the spirit of Formula 1.”

The others look at him curiously, waiting for him to elaborate.

“Think about it,” he continues. “She’s the product of competition, of pushing boundaries, of taking risks. But she’s also about teamwork, about coming together for a common goal. Just like us on the track.”

The drivers nod, considering Fernando’s words.

“Plus,” Logan adds with a grin, “she’s already got a better sleep schedule than most of us during a race weekend.”

Another round of laughter fills the room, and you feel a surge of affection for these men who have become so much more than colleagues or even friends.

As visiting hours come to an end and the nurses start to shoo the drivers out, there’s a reluctance to leave. Each of them takes a moment to say goodbye to Nessa, promising to return soon.

Before they go, Lewis gathers everyone into a tight circle around your bed.

“I think we need to make a pact,” he says solemnly. “No matter what happens, no matter how our careers go or how life changes, we stick together for Nessa. She’s part of all of us now.”

The drivers nod in agreement, their faces serious.

“For Nessa,” Max says, placing his hand in the center of the circle.

One by one, the others follow suit, until all eleven hands are stacked together.

“For Nessa,” they chorus, and in that moment, you know that whatever challenges lie ahead, you and your daughter will never face them alone.

As the drivers file out, casting longing glances back at the sleeping baby, you settle back against your pillows, exhausted but content.

Looking down at Nessa’s peaceful face, you whisper, “Welcome to the world, little one. You’ve got quite the adventure ahead of you.”

And as you drift off to sleep, you can’t help but smile at the thought of the unconventional but loving family waiting just outside those hospital doors, ready to take on the world for the tiny girl in your arms.

***

The paddock rushes with activity as teams prepare for the upcoming race weekend. But between the usual hustle and bustle, an unusual sight catches everyone’s attention: you, pushing a stroller with a now six-month-old Nessa, surrounded by a protective circle of drivers.

Max hovers close, his eyes darting around warily. “Are you sure this was a good idea? Bringing her to the track?”

You laugh, adjusting Nessa’s sun hat. “Max, she’s been coming to races since she was born. This is nothing new.”

“Yeah, but now she’s old enough to attract attention,” Charles points out, cooing at Nessa as she gurgles happily.

Lando nods in agreement. “People are starting to ask questions. Did you see that article in Autosport last week?”

You sigh, remembering the speculative piece about Nessa’s parentage. “I saw it. But we knew this day would come eventually.”

As the group makes their way through the paddock, heads turn and whispers follow. The sight of eleven of the world’s top drivers fawning over one baby is certainly not an everyday occurrence.

Carlos leans in, speaking softly. “Maybe we should have come up with a cover story. You know, pick one of us to pretend to be the father.”

George shakes his head. “No, we agreed from the start — no lies. We’re all in this together, remember?”

“Easier said than done,” Logan mutters, noticing a group of journalists eyeing them curiously.

As they approach the Mercedes garage, Lewis spots a familiar face and freezes. “Uh, guys? We might have a problem.”

The others follow his gaze to see your older brother, striding purposefully towards the group. His expression is a mix of confusion and growing anger.

“Seb!” You exclaim, trying to sound casual. “What are you doing here? I thought you were in Switzerland.”

Sebastian ignores your greeting, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the scene before him. “What’s going on here?” He demands, his gaze sweeping over the assembled drivers.

The group exchanges nervous glances, each silently hoping someone else will take the lead.

Finally, Fernando steps forward, ever the diplomat. “Sebastian, my friend. It’s good to see you. Perhaps we could discuss this somewhere more private?”

But Sebastian is having none of it. His eyes lock onto Lewis, who instinctively takes a step back. “Lewis?” He says, his voice dangerously quiet. “Care to explain why you and half the grid are hovering around my sister and a baby?”

Lewis swallows hard, looking to the others for support. Finding none, he takes a deep breath. “Seb, it’s not what you think. Well, it is, but also it isn’t. You see-”

“Lewis?” Sebastian explodes, his face reddening. “I thought better of you!”

The outburst draws even more attention, and you can see team personnel and journalists alike straining to hear what’s happening.

Lewis, caught off guard by Sebastian’s reaction, blurts out, “In my defense, I thought I would get to fuck her!”

A collective gasp goes up from the group, and you bury your face in your hands, mortified.

Sebastian’s eyes widen in shock and fury. “Tha- what? How would that make it better?”

Realizing his mistake, Lewis backpedals frantically. “No, no, that came out wrong! I didn’t mean-”

But Sebastian is beyond listening. He lunges forward, only to be held back by Alex and Oscar.

“Let me go!” Sebastian growls, struggling against their grip. “I’m going to kill him!”

Nessa, startled by the commotion, begins to cry. The sound seems to snap everyone back to reality.

“Enough!” You shout, your voice cutting through the chaos. “All of you, into the motorhome. Now!”

Chastened, the drivers file into the nearby Red Bull motorhome, with Alex and Oscar still keeping a firm grip on Sebastian. You follow, pushing Nessa’s stroller and trying to soothe her.

Once inside, with the door firmly closed against prying eyes and ears, you turn to face the group. Sebastian stands at one end, still glaring daggers at Lewis, who’s wisely put Max and Charles between them.

“Alright,” you say, your voice tight with frustration. “I guess it’s time we explained everything.”

Over the next hour, you and the drivers take turns recounting the story — from your decision to have a baby, to their unconventional offer, to Nessa’s birth and the months since. Sebastian listens in stunned silence, his expression cycling through disbelief, confusion, and finally, grudging understanding.

When the tale is finished, Sebastian slumps into a chair, running a hand over his face. “So let me get this straight,” he says slowly. “You,” he points at you, “decided to have a baby on your own. And you lot,” he gestures at the drivers, “thought the best solution was to play some kind of ... paternity lottery?”

Lance nods hesitantly. “When you put it like that, it does sound a bit mad.”

“A bit?” Sebastian laughs incredulously. “It’s completely insane!”

“But it worked,” Carlos points out, gently rocking Nessa, who has calmed down and is now contentedly chewing on his finger. “Look at her, Seb. She’s perfect.”

Sebastian’s expression softens as he looks at his niece. “She is beautiful,” he admits. Then, turning back to the group, he adds sternly, “But that doesn’t excuse the fact that you all took advantage of my sister!”

“They didn’t take advantage of me,” you interject firmly. “This was my choice. They were just ... supporting me.”

“By offering to impregnate you?” Sebastian retorts, his protective big brother instincts in full force.

George steps forward, his expression earnest. “Sebastian, I know how this looks. But we care about your sister. All of us. We just wanted to help make her dream come true.”

“And create the world’s most confusing family tree in the process,” Logan mutters, earning a sharp elbow from Lando.

Sebastian sighs, looking around at the assembled drivers. “I still can’t believe you all agreed to this. Do you have any idea what you’re getting into? The media frenzy when this gets out?”

Fernando shrugs philosophically. “Life is full of challenges. This is just another one.”

“Easy for you to say,” Max grumbles. “You’re basically past retirement age. Some of us still have our whole careers ahead of us.”

The room falls silent as the reality of their situation sinks in. The secret they’ve managed to keep for over a year is on the verge of exploding into the public eye.

“So what do we do now?” Oscar asks, voicing the question on everyone’s mind.

You look down at Nessa, who’s drifted off to sleep in Carlos’ arms, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing around her. “We tell the truth,” you say firmly. “Or at least, as much of it as we’re comfortable sharing.”

Sebastian raises an eyebrow. “And what exactly does that mean?”

Lewis, who’s been uncharacteristically quiet since his earlier outburst, speaks up. “We could say that we all agreed to help you have a child, but keep the details private. No need to mention the ... um, method.”

“You mean the part where you thought you would get to fuck her?” Sebastian growls, causing Lewis to wince.

“I really am sorry about that,” Lewis says sheepishly. “It came out all wrong.”

You shake your head, exasperated. “Focus, boys. We need a plan.”

Over the next hour, the group hashes out a strategy. They decide to release a joint statement explaining that you had chosen to become a single mother, and that the drivers, as your close friends, had offered their support. The exact nature of that support would remain private.

As they finalize the details, Sebastian watches the interactions with growing amazement. The way the drivers instinctively work together, finishing each other’s sentences and anticipating potential issues, speaks to a bond that goes beyond mere friendship or even shared paternity.

“You know,” he says finally, interrupting a debate about whether to use the phrase ‘unconventional family’ in their statement, “I think I owe you all an apology.”

The room falls silent, all eyes turning to Sebastian.

He continues, his voice softer now. “I reacted badly earlier. But seeing you all now, how you’ve come together for my sister and for Nessa ... it’s actually kind of beautiful.”

You feel tears pricking at your eyes as you move to hug your brother. “Thank you, Seb. That means a lot.”

As you pull away, Sebastian turns to address the group. “But let me make one thing clear,” he says, his tone becoming stern once more. “If any of you ever hurt my sister or my niece, you’ll have me to answer to. Understood?”

The drivers nod solemnly, a mixture of respect and residual fear in their eyes.

“Good,” Sebastian says, a small smile finally breaking through. “Now, who’s going to let me hold my niece?”

As Carlos carefully transfers the sleeping Nessa to Sebastian’s arms, the tension in the room finally dissipates. Watching your brother coo over your daughter, surrounded by the unconventional family you’ve built, you feel a sense of peace wash over you.

“Well,” Lando says, breaking the moment, “I guess the hardest part’s over. Now we just have to explain this to the rest of the world.”

Alex laughs, shaking his head. “Mate, I think that might actually be the easy part. It’s raising her that’s going to be the real challenge.”

As the group dissolves into laughter, discussing potential future scenarios (“Who’s going to teach her to drive?” “All of us, obviously!” “God help us all.”), you can’t help but marvel at the strange and wonderful turn your life has taken.

Looking around at the men who have become so much more than colleagues or friends — who have become family in the truest sense of the word — you know that whatever challenges lie ahead, you’ll face them together. And really, with a support system like this, how can you possibly fail?

As the laughter and chatter continue around you, Nessa stirs in Sebastian’s arms, her tiny hand reaching out. Without hesitation, eleven hands reach back, each driver gently touching a finger or offering a thumb for her to grasp.

In that moment, watching the most competitive men in motorsport melt over one tiny girl, you know that no matter what the future holds, Nessa will never lack for love, support, or, undoubtedly, speed.

***

The sun beats down on the jam-packed karting track, the air thick with the scent of fuel and the buzz of excitement. Amid the crowd of nervous parents and eager young racers, one group stands out: eleven men, a mix of current and former Formula 1 drivers, clustered around a small kart where an eight-year-old girl sits, her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail and her face a mask of determination.

“Remember, Nessa,” Max says, kneeling beside the kart to look the girl in the eye, “smooth on the throttle, late on the brakes.”

Charles leans in from the other side. “But not too late, mon chou. You don’t want to lock up in the corners.”

“And watch your lines,” Lewis adds, adjusting Nessa’s helmet. “The racing line isn’t always the optimal when you’re being pressured.”

Nessa nods solemnly, taking in every word. “I know, I know. We’ve been over this a million times.”

Lando grins, ruffling her hair. “That’s our girl. You’ve got this, kiddo.”

Around them, other parents and children stare in disbelief. Whispers ripple through the crowd as people recognize the famous faces surrounding the young racer.

“Is that really Lewis Hamilton?” One mother hisses to her husband.

“And Max Verstappen!” The man replies, his eyes wide. “What are they doing here?”

A nearby father shakes his head in amazement. “I heard rumors about that kid, but I didn’t believe them. How can she have so many ... well, fathers?”

Meanwhile, you stand slightly apart from the group, watching the scene with a mix of pride and amusement. Your brother sidles up beside you.

“You know,” he says with a wry smile, “when I imagined my niece’s first race, I didn’t quite picture this circus.”

You laugh, nudging him with your elbow. “Oh come on, you love it. Besides, you’re just as bad as the rest of them.”

As if to prove your point, Sebastian’s eyes narrow as he spots Carlos making a last-minute adjustment to Nessa’s kart. “Hey!” He calls out, striding over. “What are you doing to her suspension?”

Carlos looks up, startled. “Just a small tweak. The track’s a bit bumpy on turn three.”

“It’s fine as it is,” George interjects, crouching down to inspect the kart. “Any softer and she’ll lose responsiveness in the chicane.”

“Actually,” Fernando chimes in, “a slight adjustment might help. But not too much, Carlos.”

As the debate over suspension settings intensifies, Alex notices Nessa’s growing nervousness. He kneels beside her, speaking softly. “Hey, little racer. How are you feeling?”

Nessa bites her lip, her eyes darting between her arguing fathers and the other young racers preparing for the race. “What if I let them down?” She whispers. “They’re all so excited.”

Alex’s expression softens. “Oh, Nessa. You could never let us down. We’re proud of you no matter what happens out there.”

“He’s right,” Oscar adds, overhearing the conversation. “We’re here because we love you, not because we expect you to win.”

“Although winning would be nice,” Logan quips, earning a chorus of groans and eye-rolls from the others.

“What Logan means,” Lance says, shooting a glare at his fellow driver, “is that we want you to do your best and, most importantly, have fun.”

Nessa nods, a small smile finally breaking through her nervous expression. “Okay. I’ll try.”

As the call comes for racers to take their positions, the group reluctantly steps back, allowing Nessa to maneuver her kart to the starting line. You move forward, leaning in to give your daughter a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Remember,” you say softly, “you’re amazing, no matter what happens out there. And we love you more than anything.”

Nessa beams at you, her earlier nerves seeming to melt away. “I love you too. And all my dads,” she adds with a giggle, looking at the assembled drivers.

As you step back to join the others, the atmosphere around you changes. The playful bickering and nervous energy give way to a focused intensity that you recognize from countless race weekends. Eleven pairs of eyes are locked on the small figure in the pink and white kart, second row on the starting grid.

The lights begin their sequence, and you can almost feel the collective intake of breath from the men around you. Green! The karts surge forward, and Nessa makes a good start, holding her position into the first corner.

“That’s it, ma princesse!” Charles cheers, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Hold your line!”

“Watch your inside on turn two,” Max mutters, as if Nessa could hear him. “There’s space if you need it.”

As the race progresses, the commentary from the drivers becomes a constant stream, analyzing every move, every overtake, every defensive maneuver. Other parents cast bewildered glances their way, clearly overwhelmed by the level of scrutiny being applied to what they had assumed would be a casual children’s race.

Midway through the race, Nessa makes a bold move, diving down the inside of the leader into a tight hairpin. The karts touch slightly, and for a heart-stopping moment, it looks like both might spin.

“Steady!” Lewis calls out, his body tensing as if he could somehow influence the outcome through sheer will.

But Nessa manages to control the kart, emerging from the corner in the lead as the other driver runs wide.

The group erupts in cheers, their earlier promises of “it’s not about winning” seemingly forgotten in the heat of the moment.

“Did you see that move?” Lando exclaims, practically bouncing with excitement. “That was pure Norris!”

“Excuse me,” Charles interjects, a proud grin on his face, “I think you mean pure Leclerc. That finesse under pressure? All Ferrari.”

“Oh please,” George scoffs good-naturedly. “That was clearly a Russell special. Calculated risk with perfect execution.”

As the friendly argument over whose racing style Nessa has inherited continues, Sebastian leans in close to you. “You know,” he says, his voice a mix of amusement and resignation, “I’m starting to think we created a monster.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, we definitely did. But look how happy they all are.”

Indeed, as you watch the men who have become your family over the past eight years, you’re struck by the pure joy radiating from them. Their focus is entirely on Nessa, their own achievements and rivalries forgotten in their shared pride for this little girl who has somehow become the center of their world.

As the final lap approaches, Nessa is still in the lead, but with another driver close on her tail. The tension among the group reaches fever pitch.

“Come on, Nessa,” Fernando murmurs, his eyes never leaving the track. “You’ve got this. Stay focused.”

“Defend the inside line,” Carlos advises, as if she could hear him. “Don’t give them any space.”

The last corner approaches, and the second-place kart makes a desperate lunge for the inside line. For a moment, it looks like Nessa might be overtaken at the last second.

“No, no, no,” Alex mutters, his hands clenched into fists.

But Nessa holds her nerve, taking a slightly wider line and using her momentum to slingshot out of the corner and across the finish line, just ahead of her rival.

The eruption of cheers from the group of F1 drivers drowns out even the sound of the karts. They jump, hug each other, and pump their fists in the air as if Nessa had just won the World Drivers’ Championship.

As Nessa brings her kart to a stop in the pit area, she’s immediately surrounded by her fathers, each clamoring to be the first to congratulate her.

“That was incredible, little love!” Lewis exclaims, helping her out of the kart.

“You drove like a champion,” Max adds, his face split by an enormous grin.

“I’m so proud of you, mon petit champion,” Charles says, pulling her into a tight hug.

The other parents watch in amazement as Nessa is passed from one racing legend to another, each offering praise, analysis, and suggestions for improvement in equal measure.

“I can’t believe what I’m seeing,” one father mutters to his wife. “How is this fair? That kid has a whole F1 pit crew!”

His wife shushes him, but nods in agreement, her eyes wide as she watches the scene unfold.

Meanwhile, you make your way through the crowd of excited drivers to reach your daughter. As you approach, the men part to let you through, their chatter dying down.

You kneel in front of Nessa, taking in her flushed cheeks and bright eyes. “How do you feel, sweetheart?” You ask softly.

Nessa’s face breaks into a wide grin. “That was amazing! Did you see when I overtook on the hairpin? And the last corner, I thought for sure he was going to pass me, but I remembered what Papa Fernando said about late apexes, and it worked!”

You laugh, pulling her into a hug. “I saw it all, baby. You were incredible.”

As you release her, Nessa looks around at the circle of beaming faces surrounding her. “Did I make you proud?” She asks, a hint of her earlier nervousness returning.

“Proud doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Sebastian says, ruffling her hair affectionately.

“You exceeded all our expectations,” Fernando adds with a warm smile.

“And trust me,” Lando chimes in with a wink, “our expectations were pretty high to begin with.”

As Nessa basks in the praise and attention of her unconventional family, a race official approaches, looking slightly overwhelmed.

“Excuse me,” he says hesitantly, “but we need to do the podium ceremony now.”

The drivers reluctantly step back, allowing Nessa to follow the official to the makeshift podium. As she takes her place on the top step, her face beaming with pride, you find yourself surrounded by eleven grown men, each looking as proud as if they had just won a world championship themselves.

“You know,” Oscar says softly, his eyes never leaving Nessa as she receives her trophy, “I think we might be in trouble.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, turning to look at him.

He grins, a mixture of pride and mock fear in his eyes. “If she’s this good at eight, can you imagine what she’ll be like at eighteen? We might be out of jobs.”

The group chuckles, but there’s a note of truth in Oscar’s words. As you watch Nessa on the podium, her small hands raised in triumph, you can’t help but wonder what the future holds for this extraordinary little girl with her eleven F1 driver fathers.

But for now, as the sound of applause fills the air and you see the pure joy on Nessa’s face, you push those thoughts aside. There will be time enough for worrying about the future later. For now, you’re content to bask in this moment of triumph, surrounded by the most unconventional and wonderful family you could have ever imagined.

As Nessa runs back to the group, her trophy clutched tightly in her hands, she’s enveloped in a group hug that threatens to lift her off her feet. And in that moment, watching the pure love and pride radiating from these men who have given your daughter so much more than just their DNA, you know that no matter what challenges lie ahead, Nessa will always have the strongest support system imaginable.

After all, with her fathers in her corner, how can she possibly fail?

[springtyme]

Hi sage <3 can we get more luca? pistachio kisses was so perfect, I would love more like it.

thank you, thank you, thank youuu <3

𝐀 𝐒𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐎�� 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞 ♡

Chef Luca x reader || Main Masterlist || Spotify

summary: Some moments can feel so simple, yet so fundamental at the same time. This morning with Luca is one of those moments.

word count: 1.7k

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞: 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟓) 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐏𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐲

You are sitting on the kitchen counter, legs gently swinging as you watch Luca by the sink, his back facing you, humming softly to himself as he washes his hands. The sunlight streams in through the window, casting a warm glow around the room. The scent of freshly ground coffee beans fills the air, while the cosy bubbling of the coffee brewing in the coffee maker mixes with the sound of Luca’s quiet humming.  

The warmth of the morning envelops you, and your body sways gently as you sit, taking in the comforting ambiance, and you can’t help but smile at the simple, serene moment unfolding before you. You admire Luca’s easy movements, the way the water cascades over his hands, glistening in the light. The golden light from the window plays off his hair, and the warm tones of the kitchen seem to wrap around him like a comforting embrace.

As he finishes washing his hands, he glances over his shoulder and catches your gaze, a smile breaking across his face that lights up the room even more than the sunlight. “What has you smiling like that?” he says, his voice warm and melodic.

You widen your smile in return, feeling a flutter of warmth in your chest. “You,” you reply, your voice soft and light, swinging your legs a little more, the rhythm of the moment making everything feel easy and carefree.

Luca wipes his hands on a towel, stepping over to you to lean against the counter beside you. He leans in slightly, just close enough that you can feel his warmth radiating toward you. His presence is grounding, a blend of comfort and familiarity. He tilts his head, consideration evident in his eyes. “Me?”

“Mm, you,” you affirm, nodding your head as you give him your sweetest smile, tilting your head so that your eyes align. 

He chuckles softly, a sound that feels like a gentle melody in the calmness of the kitchen. “What about me?” His eyes sparkle with curiosity, the playful edge in his voice making your heart race a little faster. 

You shrug playfully, your smile widening. “Just… the way you are,” you say, your voice dipping into a conspiratorial tone. “It’s nice watching you be you. It makes me happy… And the fact that you’re cooking me breakfast just makes it even better.”

He laughs softly, the sound a gentle melody that blends seamlessly with the ambience of the kitchen. “Well, it won’t be done in a while.”

You swing your legs a little more, revelling in the easy banter. “That’s okay. I’m perfectly content just watching you for now,” you reply, your eyes twinkling with mischief. “Besides, I might be convinced to lend a hand if you let me stir the eggs or flip some pancakes.”

Luca raises an eyebrow, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. “Oh really? You think you could handle that? Last time you tried to flip a pancake, it ended up on the floor.”

“Excuse me! That was only one time!” you giggle, feigning offence. “And you have to admit, I handled the cleanup like a pro.”

“True, true,” he concedes, stepping closer, his shoulder brushing against yours, enveloping you in warmth. “You definitely have your moments of glory,” he adds, laughter dancing in his eyes. 

“Oh, yeah?” You lean in slightly, lifting your hand and placing it on his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. 

“Mhm,” he replies, his smile softening as he leans into your touch. 

You can’t help but let out a soft laugh as you lean in, the distance between you narrowing until you catch his lips in a gentle kiss, soft and lingering. His lips feel warm and inviting against yours, and that soft connection sends a delightful flutter through your chest. 

You pull away just enough to meet his gaze, your hearts a little more intertwined in that single moment. The world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you amidst the comfortable clutter of the morning.    

Luca’s eyes linger on yours, a mixture of surprise and delight shimmering in the depths of his gaze. The corners of his mouth curve upward, and a soft blush dusts his cheeks, enhancing the golden light that envelops him. He opens his mouth like he is about to say something, but before he gets to it the sound of your stomach growling interrupts the moment, echoing through the quiet kitchen. You both burst into laughter, as it reminds you of the reason you started this whole exchange in the first place.

Luca raises an eyebrow, the laughter still lighting up his face. “I guess I should go back to cooking breakfast, huh?” he says, his playful tone still dancing between you.

“One more kiss first,” you reply with a teasing smile, leaning in closer again, your heart racing at the thought of his lips against yours once more.  

Luca chuckles, the sound rich and warm. “You drive a hard bargain,” he says, feigning a sigh as he leans in, closing the distance between you. His lips meet yours again, this time a little more playfully, as if both of you are rediscovering that sweet spark that keeps igniting between you. 

You pull away, breathless, and give him a playful nudge with your shoulder. “Okay, okay, now you can get back to cooking,” you say, grinning.

Luca shakes his head, still smiling as he steps back toward the stove. He moves with an effortless grace, gathering ingredients from the countertop while his eyes occasionally flicker back to you, as if checking that you’re still watching. You settle back onto the counter, propping yourself up with your hands as you observe him, feeling a swell of affection that bubbles just beneath the surface. 

He opens the fridge and pulls out a fresh orange, the vibrant colour contrasting beautifully against the pale whites and browns of the kitchen. “Since you’re so good at being patient,” he says, holding it up with a playful gleam in his eyes, “how about a little something to nibble on while you wait?”

You smile, reaching out to accept the orange, but he doesn’t hand it over.

Your curiosity piqued, you watch as he expertly begins to peel the orange, his movements fluid and confident. His fingers move swiftly, deftly removing the skin in spiralling sections, the scent of citrus filling the air, mixing with the aroma of coffee and adding a fresh note to the kitchen. You can’t help but admire the way his concentration furrows his brow slightly. Each twist of the fruit reveals sections of juicy, succulent flesh beneath a bright and smooth exterior.

“See? This is what I’m talking about,” he says playfully, tossing the first few strips of peel into the sink with a satisfied flick of his wrist. “Here,” he says, holding out a perfect, juicy segment, the sun gleaming off its fresh pulp. “Just for you.”

You take the orange from his hand, feeling a burst of  gratitude at his thoughtful gesture. “Thank you,” you say softly, almost shyly as you inhale the refreshing scent of citrus. “I can’t believe that you’re peeling my oranges for me… You’re too sweet to me, you know?”

“I know that you don’t like getting the peel under your nails.” He says it like it is a well-worn secret, a tiny quirk he has memorised over time. 

You feel how warmth spreads in your chest by his words, making your heart flutter. He said it like it was so simple and so logical, and maybe it is, but to you it feels substantial, it’s like he’s holding a little piece of your heart in his hands. 

You jump down from the counter and step closer to him, feeling the urge to bridge the gap between the countertop and the stove. As you approach him, the warmth emanating from the stove intertwines with the warmth in your chest. You watch as he prepares the rest of the orange on a plate for you, pulling off those little white strings of pith.  

You feel a wave of adoration wash over you. You can’t resist reaching out, lightly brushing your fingers against his arm, a silent thank-you for all the little things he does.

Luca glances over at you, his eyes sparkling as he meets your gaze. The atmosphere feels electric, the air thick with an unspoken connection that pulls you closer. 

“Come here,” you say softly, stepping even closer, feeling a mixture of excitement and warmth radiating between you. It feels natural to inch forward, the magnetic pull urging you to close the distance.

“Where to?” he teases, a playful smile tugging at his lips as he looks at you, completely at ease. His casual demeanour only makes you want him closer.

“Just… closer.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, a tone that somehow carries the weight of all your feelings. The space between you flickers with an undeniable chemistry, a warmth that’s almost palpable.

With a soft, breathy chuckle, Luca takes a step toward you, the light from the window spilling over him like a golden blanket. He places the plate of orange on the counter beside him before leaning in, resting his hands on the edge, effectively locking you in his gentle gaze.

“You mean like this?” He leans slightly, his face just inches from yours, his breath mingling with yours—warm, sweet, and filled with the comfort of those playful moments you share.

“Exactly like that,” you reply, feeling a giddy thrill at the proximity as you lean in to plant another soft kiss on his lips, feeling the warmth radiate between you. It’s that familiar tingle, the way everything feels vibrant and alive when you’re near him.

Luca pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression softening. “What was that for?” His voice is low and earnest, wrapping around you like the sun’s rays streaming through the window.

You smile, your heart fluttering at the warmth in his gaze. “Just because,” you reply, letting the simple sentiment linger in the air between you. “Because I can, and because you are you.”

Luca’s cheeks flush slightly, and you can see the delight dancing in his eyes. He tilts his head, contemplating your words as if they’re the sweetest secret you’ve shared. “Well, I must say, I’m quite fond of your reasons…”

[fuckingrecipes]

How do I make mindblowing spaghetti sauce? I have been gifted a fuckton of homemade canned tomatoes and nothing but time this weekend.

Do the tomatoes have skin? If so, you'll need to dump them into a bowl and remove the skin by hand. Tomato skin in sauce is no bueno.

Are your tomatoes whole? If so, you'll need to quarter them & remove the seeds & goo in the middle.

Is there lots of excess water around your tomatoes? Drain that out.

If your tomatoes have already been deskinned, seeds removed, drained and quartered; proceed to next steps.

If you want a finer sauce (less chunks), crush or dice the tomatoes now.

--

Make sure your pot is big enough to handle ALL the cans of tomatoes you'll be using at this time. For the sake of being easier to handle, I recommend no more than 3-4 cans/mason jars at a time in the pot.

For each can of tomatoes, get yourself 1 small-to-medium onion, and a couple cloves of garlic.

Chop all the onions. Crush & chop OR mince all the garlic.

In a saucepan, burner set to 'high', add enough butter that you can lean the pot around and coat the bottom. Let it melt completely.

Dump in all your onion.

Stir the onions around constantly, mixing and flipping them over until all the onions are starting to turn just thoroughly translucent, but not quite turning brown yet. (If they start to turn brown, turn the heat down a little)

Once they're translucent, push the onions to the side so you have some of your pan-bottom showing and dump your garlic in. Smush it flat-ish so most of the garlic is touching the pan. Leave it there until the bottom of the garlic is turning brown, then mix it all into the onions.

Immediately dump in all the tomatoes you used to make those onion calculations earlier. Toss in some red pepper flakes (use your own judgement here.)

For each can of tomatoes, add about 1-2 ounces of vodka or rum. (there are a lot of amazing, rich tomato flavors which can only be revealed using alcohol, and not oil or water)

For each can of tomatoes, add roughly 1 tsp of salt, if they weren't canned using salt.

Turn the heat down to 'low' and let it simmer (stay on the heat, producing lots of steam but few, if any, bubbles) for about 5 minutes.

At this point, you can add your herbs.

You want: Basil, Oregano, Thyme, Savory, Majoram, and Sage. Many Italian Seasoning or Mediteranean Seasoning blends will have them.

You can choose to use all of them, or only what you can find. For a cheap and tasty blend, Badia Italian Seasoning Blend is easy and works well.

Personally, I think a little bit of nutmeg, sumac, and sesame seeds is also lovely but it's not "traditional" Italian. A "Za'atar" spice blend should have the sumac with oregano and thyme if you can't find it as a standalone spice.

You can also track down fresh herbs, make a big herb bundle tied with string and dump it in your sauce to simmer, instead of using the dried flake stuff. Or do some fresh, some dried.

Your sauce will be looking 'wet' or 'liquidy' at this point, and will likely have tomato chunks still. You can use a potato masher to crush the tomato chunks if you want, but it's not required.

Let it keep simmering on 'low' in 5-minute increments to evaporate water off. Remember to stir every time you check the pot. It may take 30 minutes to reduce down to a thick 'sauce' texture, if there was lots of water in your tomatoes.

When the sauce consistency starts to look 'saucy' and thicker, check and stir more frequently. Babysit the pot.

Taste the sauce! Add salt to taste. (About 1-2 tsp at a time, mix thoroughly, re-taste, & repeat until it tastes great.)

TIPS:

Keep an eye and nose on your sauce at all times, especially if it's in its thicker stages. If it seems to be burning AT ANY TIME, immediately take it entirely off the heat and stir rapidly to cool it! The smell should always be 'stewing tomatoes and herbs' not 'burning or roasting'

--

If you want your sauce to have a 'brighter/fresher' tomato flavor, make sure to strain as much liquid out as you can before starting, so you don't have to cook the tomatoes as long.

If you like the savory 'cooked/stewed' tomato more than you like the fresher 'uncooked' tomato flavor, then leaving more water in the beginning will make a longer cook time, and more thoroughly stewed tomato.

If you don't have hand-canned tomatoes, you can also use canned tomatoes from the store.

[gwens-love]

Haunted by Memories

<-Part 1 ~ Part 3->

Summary: When Agatha’s ghostly presence vanishes without warning, you’re left with an aching emptiness and the haunting suspicion that something powerful has intervened.

Warnings: emotional themes, angst and death (kinda)

Word count: 2.9k

~ghost!Agatha Harkness x reader~

~Rio Vidal x reader~ (kinda)

A/N: Big thanks to @valarmorghuli and @hannah-0730 for the ideas. 🫶🫶🫶

Please don’t copy/steal or translate this work thanks.

~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~

You wake up in a cold sweat, the room dark and heavy with an eerie stillness. The absence of Agatha’s presence settles uncomfortably around you. For days, she had been a constant companion, her playful banter and haunting laughter echoing in your mind. But today, there is nothing.

You sit up, glancing around as if expecting her to materialize in a flicker of movement. The air feels different.. thicker, like a fog settling in, shrouding your senses. You know she can’t just vanish without a trace. Your heart races as confusion washes over you. Why isn’t she here?

Panic begins to seep in, and you clutch at the blanket, staring into the shadows of your room. The stillness presses against you, a suffocating reminder that something is very wrong. Agatha is a ghost, after all, and even the most ethereal beings are bound by forces greater than themselves.

You can’t shake the nagging thought that someone, something has taken notice of the connection you share. The tales of powerful entities that patrol the boundaries between worlds, ensuring that the living and the dead don’t cross too freely, swirl in your mind. Someone must have intervened.

Determined to break the silence, you throw off the covers and rise from your bed. Your heart thrums with a mix of fear and resolve as you pace the room, trying to conjure her image in your mind. Agatha’s mischievous smile, her voice that danced like music in the air, it feels wrong to think of her as gone. You refuse to accept it.

You rush to your desk, littered with old tomes and dusty books that hold secrets of the arcane. Your fingers tremble as you sift through the pages, searching for a spell that can alter fate itself. You scan the pages filled with cryptic symbols, each more frustrating than the last, feeling the weight of time pressing on you. You need to act fast; the longer she’s away, the harder you miss her.

The quiet of the room feels like a mocking reminder of her absence. You can almost hear her voice echoing in your thoughts, urging you to press on. You find a passage that speaks of a ritual, a way to bind the spirit of a ghost to the mortal realm, a means to grant them a semblance of humanity again. The words are a promise, a beacon of hope that flickers in the darkness.

As you begin to gather the ingredients, each one steeped in mystery and requiring your utmost care, you can’t shake the feeling that Agatha is out there, somewhere. You imagine her spirit tangled in shadows, waiting for you to fight for her, to pull her back from whatever has taken her. You hold onto that thought as you prepare for the journey ahead, ready to confront whatever it takes to bring her home.

~<~>~<~>~<~>~

You sit cross-legged on the wooden floor, the dim candlelight flickering across the pages of the book laid open in front of you. Scrawled in faded ink, the recipe for binding a ghost to the living realm looks deceptively simple. A bit of grave dust, a vial of moon-kissed water, a tear, and a single strand of your hair are all you need, along with the belief that this will bring her back.

You’ve never felt as alone as you do now. The silence presses in, and with each tick of the clock, Agatha’s absence grows more profound. She’s somewhere out there, you’re sure of it. You just need to find a way to bring her back. The thought drives you forward as you crush dried herbs into the mortar, the smell of sage and wormwood thickening the air.

One by one, you add each ingredient to the small cauldron, murmuring the words the book instructs, your voice a whispered plea that barely breaks the silence. When the last ingredient, a single tear, hits the bubbling potion, you feel a rush of something, a twinge in the air as if an unseen force stirs.

But as the mixture settles, it does nothing. No shimmer, no spark. The potion sits there, dark and still.

“Come on…” you whisper, leaning closer, willing it to work. You wait, heart pounding, but the liquid remains stubbornly inert. Frustration claws at you as you stir the potion, the mixture swirling but offering nothing back.

“Please,” you murmur, almost to the shadows. “Agatha, if you can hear me…”

Silence.

A pang of dread twists in your chest, but you force yourself to try again. The spell is complex, and maybe it just needs more time, or maybe you mispronounced something. You start over, grinding the ingredients with renewed intensity, almost willing the magic into existence with sheer desperation. The room fills again with the scent of crushed herbs, the flicker of candlelight, the sounds of whispered incantations.

But even after repeating it perfectly, nothing happens. The potion lies lifeless, mocking your efforts.

You slump back, staring at the mixture with disbelief, a bitter feeling creeping into your heart. If this doesn’t work, if magic itself is resisting you, then what chance do you have? You swallow the lump in your throat, hands shaking as you close the book.

Tonight, your faith has been tested, and it’s the first time you’ve felt the terrifying possibility that maybe, just maybe, bringing Agatha back won’t be as simple as a spell.

~<~>~<~>~<~>~

The days blend together in a blur of failed attempts and raw frustration. You brew the potion over and over whisper the chants until your throat feels torn, grind herbs until your hands are numb, add everything you can think of to make it work. But every time, it’s nothing. Just silence, thick and suffocating, filling the room like a fog that refuses to lift.

Agatha is gone, and each night that passes without her feels like a weight sinking deeper into your chest. You replay your last moments together, searching for any sign, any hint, any reason why she hasn’t come back. The house is cold, empty, her laughter replaced by the relentless ticking of a clock that mocks your impatience. You’d give anything to hear her voice, feel her presence again, but all you get are the hollow echoes of your own whispers.

Tonight, after yet another failure, you slump over the table, barely able to keep yourself upright. Your hands tremble as they clutch the edge of the table, and you fight to keep tears from spilling over. She’s slipping further away, and the potion, the one thing that might bring her back, is just beyond your reach.

Then, in the dark silence of your house, there’s a sharp, unexpected knock on the door. The sound makes you flinch, your heart pounding as you look up. No one visits this late, especially not now, when you’re lost in the depths of grief and desperation. You force yourself to your feet, dragging yourself to the door as your mind spins with half-formed thoughts and warnings.

When you open it, the figure standing there is almost a shadow, her silhouette harsh against the dim light. She’s tall and dark, her clothes layered and flowing, like wisps of smoke captured in fabric. Her gaze is sharp, too knowing, almost like she can see through you, and she doesn’t bother hiding the way her lips curl into a faint, dangerous smile.

“Miss Y/N,” she says smoothly, her voice low and rich, each word soaked in an accent that feels as ancient as it is foreign. Her eyes flash with something unreadable. “You’ve been busy.”

You swallow hard, but there’s an ache in your throat, too raw to hide. “Who… who are you?”

She doesn’t answer immediately, stepping forward without permission, her shadow swallowing the room’s faint light. The scent of herbs and incense wraps around you, thick and heady. “Rio Vidal,” she says, her smile growing as if she’s savoring some private joke. “And I understand you’re seeking… help.”

~<~>~<~>~<~>~

The dim candlelight flickers across the kitchen as you stare down at the ingredients scattered across your countertop. Dried herbs, glass vials, and powders lay in an array that feels almost like a taunt. None of this makes sense to you, none of it did, really, until Rio showed up and started guiding you through the ritual, her tone filled with a patience that you can’t help but feel is undeserved.

Rio stands close by, watching you with her arms crossed, her dark eyes narrowed in scrutiny and something else, something you’re not sure you trust. She’s been coming by almost every evening since that first visit, showing up in your life as though she was meant to be here all along. And tonight, like always, her presence is unnervingly steady.

“Add the thyme,” she says softly, her voice pulling you from your spiral of self-doubt. “Crush it into a powder.”

You pick up the leaves, your hands unsteady. “Like this?”

She leans forward, her fingers brushing yours to guide them as you work the mortar and pestle. Her touch lingers, warm and sure, and you feel a heat rush up to your cheeks. It’s distracting, and that doesn’t make this process any easier.

“Yes,” she murmurs, her gaze focused on the task at hand. “Careful… gentle. You want it to release the oils, not turn to dust.”

You nod, though you’re not entirely sure what she means. You’re so out of place here, and she knows it. It’s hard not to feel like a fraud, fumbling through every step. “I… I don’t think I’m cut out for this.”

Her gaze sharpens, and she straightens, her fingers leaving yours, almost reluctantly. “Magic isn’t about being born with it,” she says, her tone low, but there’s a hint of something comforting beneath her words. “It’s about intent. And I’d say you have more of that than most.”

You look up at her, surprised by the unexpected softness in her gaze. For a moment, you think you see something else there something warm, maybe even affectionate. But it vanishes quickly, hidden behind her usual careful expression.

“I don’t know… I don’t want to mess it up,” you admit, voice barely a whisper.

Rio watches you for a moment, and then she steps closer, so close you can feel the steady warmth radiating from her. “You won’t,” she says quietly. “Not with me here.”

The words hang between you, heavy with a promise you’re not sure you can believe. But there’s something in the way she’s looking at you now, something almost… protective, like she can see straight through all your doubts and fears and still wants to be here.

You feel your heart race, a mixture of nerves and something else… a strange, reluctant hope. Rio’s hand reaches out, brushing your shoulder lightly, and you catch a hint of hesitation before she pulls back, her lips pressing into a faint smile.

“Again,” she says, voice softer this time, almost gentle. “Let’s try again.”

And so you do, focusing on her voice, on her presence as she walks you through each step, her patience somehow unwavering. With each repetition, each quiet reassurance, your doubts don’t vanish entirely, but they feel a little smaller. And maybe it’s not the potion that’s starting to work, it’s her.

You grind the herbs, their scent drifting into the air, but there’s a question gnawing at you, one you can’t ignore anymore.

“Why are you doing this?” It slips out before you can stop it, quieter and more vulnerable than you intended.

Rio’s hand hesitates over the next ingredient, her fingers tensing as she considers you. “Helping you?”

You nod, fixing your gaze on the crushed herbs in the mortar, trying to steady the flutter in your chest. “You barely know me, yet you keep coming back here, night after night, teaching me something I can barely understand. Why?”

For a moment, Rio is silent. Her dark eyes search yours, as if weighing how much to say. When she finally speaks, her voice is soft, barely a murmur. “You needed help. And… I have my own reasons.”

Her words hang in the air, vague but heavy. They’re not enough, and the doubt gnaws deeper. Why is she here, really? This quest to bring Agatha back was supposed to be yours, wasn’t it?

“What reasons?” You hate how wary you sound, like you’re scared to know the truth.

Rio’s gaze slips to the table, her fingers tracing invisible patterns across the wood. “There are… things I want back in this world too.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, as if admitting it out loud costs her something. For the first time, you see her differently no longer the confident witch, but someone harboring a pain she’s too proud to name.

The realization hits you like a chill, and you press your lips together, afraid of what you’ll say next. But the question is already forming, raw and unsteady. “Is this about Agatha?”

She flinches, just slightly, but it’s enough. She looks away, her face tense with an emotion she won’t let you see. “Agatha’s gone,” she says, her voice rougher than before. “And until she returns… if she can return…” Her words drift off, leaving a silence thick with everything she hasn’t told you.

The truth settles in slowly. She’s not just here for you. She’s here because she’s lost something too… because Agatha’s absence is a wound she can’t heal on her own. This magic, this shared desperation, it’s all tied to the ghost of someone you both loved.

“Then… why didn’t you tell me?” Your voice is barely a whisper, and you’re not sure if you want an answer.

Rio looks at you, and for the first time, her expression is unguarded, almost pleading. “Because I needed you to believe in this. To believe in yourself, and not just do this because of me.” Her voice trembles, raw and vulnerable. “I can’t do this alone, but you can… with my help of course.”

She tried to soften the blow, but the words settle over you, heavy and strange, like a secret you were never meant to know. But you find yourself nodding, the ache in her voice echoing in your own heart. There’s a strange comfort in it, a feeling that makes you steady your shoulders and meet her gaze.

“Then let’s try again,” you say, and though your voice is small, it’s steady. “For Agatha.”

Rio’s gaze softens, her lips curving into the faintest smile. “For Agatha,” she echoes, her voice carrying a note of something bittersweet and resolute.

~<~>~<~>~<~>~

One day you became curious again “Why do you need me, exactly?” You question with doubt in your eyes.

The question hangs in the room, heavy as the shadows that seem to cling to every corner. You’re still kneeling on the floor, herbs scattered around you, remnants of failed attempts and shaky magic. The words left your mouth before you fully thought them through, but now they linger, filling the silence with something unspoken and raw.

Rio doesn’t look at you right away. She busies herself with rearranging the vials on the table, her hands moving with careful precision, though you can see her fingers tremble slightly. Finally, she glances over her shoulder, her dark eyes glinting in the dim light.

“Because you’re the only one who truly believes Agatha can come back.” Her voice is calm, but there’s a weight to it, like she’s confessing something she never wanted to say out loud.

You frown, taken aback. “You’re a witch, Death herself, right? You could bring back anyone if you wanted to. So why… why do you need me?”

She hesitates, and you can see the walls go up again, that flicker of vulnerability she’s so desperate to hide. When she finally speaks, her voice is quiet, almost reluctant. “Magic like this… it’s not just about power. It’s about intent. Desire. You’re bound to her in ways I never was. You… have something I don’t.”

You blink, taken aback by her words. All this time, you’d assumed Rio was guiding you out of pity, maybe even obligation. But now, hearing her say that it’s your connection to Agatha that matters, it leaves you with a strange, hollow ache.

“But I’m not a witch. I can barely understand half of what you tell me to do. What if I mess it up? What if… what if this all goes wrong because I’m too weak?” You don’t mean for the last words to sound so broken, but they do, slipping out before you can stop them.

Rio turns to face you fully now, her eyes searching yours with an intensity that makes your breath hitch. “You think power is all that matters in magic? It’s not. You doubt yourself because you think you’re lesser without the title, but titles don’t bring people back.” Her voice softens, and there’s a tenderness there that catches you off guard. “You were enough for her once. That connection between you, it’s stronger than any spell.”

Her words settle over you, and for a moment, the room feels warmer, like the walls are pulsing with the life that once filled them. But it’s fleeting, and the doubts creep back in, gnawing at the edges of your resolve. “And if it doesn’t work?” you whisper.

Rio’s gaze holds steady, but there’s something fierce in it now, something you can’t quite place. “Then we’ll try again. As many times as it takes.”

“For Agatha?” You say in a small voice, she replied with her own much sturdier one, and an affirming nod “Yes, for Agatha.”

~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~<~>~

<3

[thetarotwitch111]

How people are perceiving you right now? - Pick a card purple pokemon

Since i absolutely love pokemon I picked three purple ones, and just like choosing your starter, you’ll pick one to uncover how people are seeing you right now. So grab your Poké Balls, dust off that old Game Boy, and let’s see what your chosen Pokémon reveals about you.

✨I hope this reading brings you some clarity and guidance. If it resonated with you, I’d love to hear about it!

✨ And if you’re looking for something more personal, I also do individual readings—just DM me anytime or check my ko-fi

🌟TIP JAR🌟

Breathe, clean your thoughts and ask your guides and the Universe lead you to the message that’s meant for you.

Let’s get into your reading!

💜 1. Gengar

They’re noticing this big shift in you. You’re really starting to let go of things that used to hold you down, and that’s pretty powerful. It’s almost like you’ve decided, “I don’t need to control everything,” and that’s making you come across as way more open and chill. People can see that you’re getting better at going with the flow, even if it’s a little scary sometimes. But they also see that you’re super careful with your decisions. You’re not the type to just jump into something without thinking it through. You’re weighing all your options, and while that might make you seem a little stuck, it’s really just you being smart about where you’re headed next. And sure, they might pick up on the fact that you’re dealing with some tough stuff (maybe some temptations or situations that feel a bit restrictive). But what they really admire is how you’re not letting that stop you. You’re determined to break free from anything that doesn’t feel right, and that’s pretty inspiring.

The good things they see in you:

First off, they totally admire your resilience. You’ve been through some rough times, but you always manage to come out the other side even stronger. It’s like no matter what life throws at you, you’re not just surviving—you’re thriving. And people really notice that strength in you.

They also love your independence and this amazing ability to make choices that are totally in line with who you are. Even if that means you’re taking a path that others don’t quite get, they respect that you’re doing what feels right for you. You might seem a little cautious in relationships, but that’s just because you’re making sure everything aligns with your true self. People really respect that about you.

Witch’s advice:

You’re in this awesome phase of letting go and embracing change, so let’s boost that energy with some crystals. Grab a smoky quartz, cause it’s perfect for helping you release anything that’s no longer serving you. Think of it as a little nudge from the universe to let go of the old and welcome the new. And then there’s labradorite, which is all about transformation.

For herbs, sage is your best friend right now. It’s amazing for clearing out any negative or stuck energy around you. Pair it with lavender, which is super calming and will help you feel more at peace, especially when things get a little overwhelming.

And because we all need a bit of comfort, let’s talk tea. A blend of peppermint and chamomile is just what you need. The peppermint will help you think clearly and its perfect for those moments when you’re at a crossroads. And the chamomile will calm your nerves and help you relax about the future. If you want an extra boost, add a little lemon balm to the mix. It’s uplifting and will keep your spirits high as you move forward.

💜 2. Koffing

People see you as someone who’s really starting to break free from some heavy stuff. It’s like they’ve noticed you’ve been through a period where you felt really stuck, maybe even a little trapped, but now they can see you stepping out of that and finding your strength. It’s as if you’ve taken off the blindfold and are beginning to see all the possibilities that are out there for you. There’s a sense of admiration for how you’re learning to navigate through challenges, taking control of your life, and not letting fear or doubt hold you back anymore.

However, there’s also an understanding that you’re still working through some deeper, more personal struggles. People can sense that you’re dealing with things that might still have a hold on you, like old habits or negative thoughts that are tough to shake. But they don’t see this as a weakness; instead, they recognize the strength it takes to confront these inner battles. They know you’re doing your best to overcome them, and they respect the fight you’re putting up to not let those things control you.

At the same time, others notice that you’re someone who avoids unnecessary drama. You’re not one to dive into conflicts or get caught up in petty disputes. Instead, you’re focused on keeping the peace and finding solutions that work for everyone involved. People see you as someone who values harmony and is willing to go the extra mile to make sure things stay calm and balanced, even when it’s not easy. This makes you someone they can rely on to bring a sense of calm and reason into tense situations.

The good things they see in you:

One of the biggest things is your ability to move on from tough situations. They see you as someone who doesn’t let past disappointments or mistakes define you. Instead, you focus on what’s still possible and what you can still achieve. You don’t get down for the negative, but instead, you find a way to keep moving forward, and that’s something people really appreciate.

People also admire how you’re starting to open up more. Maybe you’ve spent some time reflecting and keeping to yourself, but now they see you sharing more of what you’ve learned. You’re willing to let others in, to show your vulnerabilities, and to offer the wisdom you’ve gained from your experiences. This makes you relatable and wise in their eyes, someone who’s been through a lot but is now ready to connect and share with others.

There’s also something about your creativity. Even if you don’t always show it right away, people sense that you have a rich inner world. When you do express your feelings or ideas, it’s something really special that others value. They see you as someone who brings a unique perspective to the table, and they love how you bring your imagination and emotions into everything you do.

Lastly, people respect your thoughtful approach to life. You’re not someone who rushes into things and take your time to consider your options and make sure everything is just right before you move forward. This makes you seem deliberate and careful, which others really appreciate. They know that when you do make a decision, it’s something you’ve really thought through, and that brings a sense of confidence and trust in your choices.

Witch’s advice:

First, consider working with amethyst. This crystal is great for helping you stay clear-headed and keeping any negative energy at bay. It’s also wonderful for breaking free from old patterns and embracing the new opportunities you’re creating for yourself.

For herbs, basil and rosemary would be particularly helpful right now. Basil can bring protection and peace, helping you maintain the calm and balanced environment you’re striving for. Rosemary, on the other hand, is excellent for clarity and focus, giving you the mental boost you need to keep moving forward with confidence.

When it comes to teas, a soothing blend of lemon balm and chamomile would be perfect. Lemon balm is uplifting and can ease any lingering anxiety, while chamomile helps you relax and unwind. Together, they create a comforting, calming vibe that supports your journey toward balance and peace.

💜 3. Nidoking

People see you as someone who’s in the middle of a pretty intense moment. It’s like they can tell you’ve been thinking a lot about whether to stay in certain situations or move on, but there’s a part of you that’s still holding back. Maybe it’s because you’re not quite ready to let go of something that has been important to you, or perhaps you’re trying to find closure before taking the next big step. Either way, others sense that you’re in a bit of a back-and-forth, trying to figure out where you truly want to be.

They also see that you’re someone who might be feeling a bit stuck right now, like there’s something unfinished in your life. It’s as if you’re so close to reaching a major goal or completing a big chapter, but there’s still a loose end or two that’s keeping you from feeling like you can fully move forward. And you have this drive to wrap things up and reach that sense of completion, but they also understand that it’s not easy when you’re dealing with things that are beyond your control.

At the same time, you’ve got this energy that’s just contagious. You’re curious, excited about new ideas, and you bring that spark wherever you go. Even when life gets tough, they see that you’re still standing strong, ready to take on whatever comes your way. You’re like a warrior who’s been through a lot, but you’ve still got that fire inside you.

The good things they see in you:

One of the first things that stands out is your sense of independence and self-sufficiency. People see you as someone who’s really got it together, someone who’s worked hard to build a life that’s stable and fulfilling. You have this air of confidence and self-reliance that others find incredibly inspiring. They admire how you don’t just sit around waiting for things to happen. You go out and make things happen, and know your worth and you’re not afraid to enjoy the fruits of your labor.

Another thing is that you have a way of bringing your dreams to life that really impresses people. And they also think that you’ve got this deep well of emotion and love, even if you don’t always show it right away. They admire how you’re able to care so deeply and how you’re not afraid to be vulnerable when it really matters. You have this gift for making others feel valued and appreciated, and that’s something they truly treasure in you.

You also lift others up, to bring joy and happiness wherever you go and they see you as someone who can find the good in almost any situation and help others see it too.

Witch’s Advice:

Grab some citrine. It’s the perfect crystal for you. Citrine is all about boosting your confidence and bringing in that joyful, abundant energy that you naturally have. It’s like a little battery for your positivity. And clear quartz is another good one for you; it helps you stay focused and amps up your intentions, making it even easier to manifest all the amazing things you’re working on.

For herbs, rosemary and bay leaves are your go-tos. Rosemary is great for keeping your mind clear and your energy protected, especially when you’re dealing with those frustrating, unfinished things. Bay leaves are awesome for setting intentions and making your wishes come true—write down what you want on a bay leaf, burn it, and let the magic happen.

And let’s not forget about tea! A blend of jasmine and green tea is perfect for you. Jasmine brings in that sweet, loving energy, helping you stay connected to your heart. Green tea keeps you motivated and focused, which is just what you need to keep moving forward. Together, these teas will help you stay balanced and energized, ready to take on anything.

[estellan0vella]

Robbery Older Brother Sukuna AU HFBU Pt2

You sit at the counter of the parlour, sketching random designs in your notebook while chatting with Gojo. Your best friend since high school, Gojo recently joined the shop as a piercer, and his cheerful banter has become a daily highlight.

"Hey, Y/N/N," Gojo says, leaning over to peek at your sketches. "That's some good stuff. Ever thought about doing the tattoos?"

You laugh, shaking your head. "Nah, I'm happy just doodling. Leave the ink to the pros."

Gojo grins, his bright blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "Maybe I'll just have to convince you one day."

Across the room, Sukuna is working on a client's back piece, his concentration intense and unwavering. His presence is commanding, even when he's completely focused on his work. Toji and Geto are busy with their own clients, exchanging jokes and stories as they ink intricate designs.

The door chimes as someone walks in, and you glance up out of habit. A man stands in the doorway, looking out of place and nervous. Your eyes narrow slightly as you take in the sight of the gun he's trying to hide under his jacket.

"Uh, everybody freeze!" he shouts, pulling the gun out and waving it around.

A tense silence falls over the room, but only for a moment. Then, to the man's surprise, laughter erupts from all of you.

"Wow, seriously?" Gojo says, rolling his eyes. "Compensating much?"

Toji smirks, not even pausing in his work. "Yeah, buddy, did you lose a bet or something? That thing's tiny."

"Is that a lighter in your pocket or are you happy to see us?" Sukuna taunts.

The man blinks, clearly not expecting this reaction. His face flushes with embarrassment and frustration, his grip on the gun tightening nervously.

Sukuna leans back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips. "I gotta say, if you're here to rob us, you could at least bring something more threatening. That little pea-shooter won't get you far."

Toji chuckles, glancing over at Geto who nods in agreement. "Seriously, man. Did you think we wouldn't notice you sneaking in here with that?"

You, still seated at the counter, can't help but join in. "And here I thought I'd seen everything in this shop. Turns out, we're now a comedy club."

Gojo, with his usual irreverence, adds fuel to the fire. "I mean, look at you. You look like a marshmallow"

"What does that even mean?" You ask with a giggle and Gojo shrugs.

The man’s face contorts with a mix of anger and humiliation. "Shut up!" he yells, waving the gun again. "I'm serious! I'll shoot!"

Toji raises an eyebrow, his tone still teasing. "Oh, are we doing threats now? How about this: put that thing away before someone gets hurt. Namely, your ego."

The man looks flustered, his grip on the gun tightening as he points it at you. "Shut up! I'm serious! Give me all your money!"

You roll your eyes, unable to contain your sarcasm. "Sweetheart, I have epilepsy. My brain doesn't work right on the best of days. A gun doesn't scare me. Just don't mess with my face or my tits, alright? They're my best features."

Sukuna leans back, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Can confirm. I'm extremely fond of them"

Geto nods solemnly. "Seriously, those are top-tier assets. We should put them in a museum."

Gojo nods solemnly as you laugh. "We'd have to hold a memorial service for the girls. It'd be tragic."

Toji finally looks up, his expression one of mock seriousness. "The worst crime you'd commit today would be damaging that rack."

Gojo grins wider. "We'd put ourselves in the line of fire to protect those honkers."

Sukuna gestures lazily towards you. "Hey babe," he says with a grin, "don't worry, I'll protect those masterpieces," nodding towards your chest. "Can't have this guy ruining what I get to enjoy every day."

Gojo nods sagely. "He's right, those are national treasures."

Toji nods in agreement. "Yeah, I'd cry real tears if something happened to those."

The man's face turns bright red, his hand shaking as he tries to regain control of the situation. "Shut up! Just give me the money!"

"Is it an innie?" Toji asks, feigning genuine curiosity. "You know, your... equipment?"

The robber's frustration grows as the room continues to be filled with laughter and teasing. He finally lowers the gun, looking completely defeated. "You guys are crazy," he mutters before turning and bolting out the door.

As soon as he's gone, the room erupts into even louder laughter. Sukuna sets down his tattoo machine and walks over to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "Glad our national treasures are safe," he murmurs, planting a kiss on your temple and you snort.

Gojo is still chuckling, shaking his head. "That was priceless. Best robbery attempt ever."

Geto nods in agreement. "Yeah, we really should thank the guy for the entertainment."

Toji stretches, leaning back in his chair. "Who knew our biggest concern today would be protecting Y/N's tits?"

You grin, feeling the warmth of Sukuna's embrace. "Well, they're glad to still be here."

"We're all glad they're still here," Sukuna says with a grin. 

The next day, you come into the parlour with a new sign you’ve created. It's bright and colourful, with bold letters that read, “No Guns Allowed. Seriously, We'll Laugh In Your Face.” Gojo takes a marker from you and neatly writes 'We will protect the honkers with our own bodies' making you laugh as you hand the sign to Sukuna who takes it from you, chuckling as he hangs it in the window for everyone to see.

Sukuna steps back to admire your work, a proud smile on his face. “Looks great, babe.”

Gojo, standing next to him, nods in approval. “Perfect. Now we just need someone dumb enough to test it.”

Toji and Geto walk in, glancing at the sign and chuckling. “I give it a week,” Toji says.

“Three days, tops,” Geto counters.

You all laugh, knowing that no matter what happens, you’ve got each other’s backs—and that’s more than enough to handle anything life throws at you.

The rest of the day goes by without a hitch. As you sketch, chat with Gojo, and watch Sukuna work, you feel a deep sense of contentment. Life may be unpredictable, but with this group of misfits, it’s never boring.

The bell above the door jingles, signalling a new customer. You glance up. “Welcome to the madhouse,” you say with a grin. “How can we help you today?”

[quitealotofsodapop]

Do you know if there's any initiation process for people to become sworn siblings?

Or do they just say, "You're my sworn sibling now." to each other?

I think it is comparable to the historical practice of "blood brothers" in which close companions would symbolically "mix blood" by pressing opened wounds against one another or drinking one another's blood. In some cultures with a more "eww. blood" attitude, a sacrifice was made in each other's honour to seal the deal instead.

In folklore; the only reason the gods in the Norse pantheon don't get rid of Loki despite their mischief, is because Loki and Odin are blood brothers.

Noted examples in East Asia mainly come from Mongolian and tribal Chinese accounts - in which it was common practice amongst dear friends and their children. One famous example is Temüjin aka Genghis Khan and his childhood friend Jamukha - the latter's betrayal and attempted usurping considered one of the Khan's greatest emotional losses.

For particularly Chinese sources I found this article about traditional Chinese Kinship, though most of the sources come from Taiwan.

The standard ritual was for each sworn sibling to add their names and dates to a contract and ritualistically burn it - as to add it to the infernal and celestial archives. "Can't return me without the receipt" - at it's finest.

Another familiar practice was for each sibling in the pact to add their blood to wine, and pass it around to drink.

It's a bit flexible depending on the individuals. Whether for personal or political reasons. But the "ideal" scenario is people who are so close, that they feel that they might as well by legally recognised as siblings. Sworn brethren could, for example, contribute to the dowry of a sworn sibling's daughter, preform mourning rituals for the others bio family, or becoming legal guardians of your sworn-sibling's kid in case of their death.

Or in the case of Confucian-era China outlawing homosexuality, it was a clever way to facilitate a same-sex marriage. Can't fault two guys for living together and raising their kids when it's a legally recognised practice! A bunch of friends could come together and make a brotherhood pact as a way to cheekily help others in the group be married in spirit when the state wouldn't recognise it.

Some folks even did it so that members in their bio family who were interested in eachother could have "a reason" to be interacting. Imperial gender norms be wildin' so hard that you can't talk to your crush without your dads being legally best bros.

This is why in chinese slang; "sworn brothers" is used as slang for "gay relationship". Aka "oh my god, they were roommates."-vine.

In JTTW: Sun Wukong and the Brotherhood/Seven Sages declare themselves sworn kin at the same time Wukong elects his Marshals and Generals. In this case, they are all close friends who officiate their sworn kinship through partying hard, and making sacrifices to both Heaven and Hell. They even have separate days out together.

(Source: Anthony C Yu translation)

Who knows, maybe a wedding was thrown in the mix? With all the drinking I wouldn't be shocked if there was some confusion with the ritual contract! XD

Wukong, re-reading the contract years later: "HA! Flood Dragon and Tamarin put themselves down as the other kind of sworn brother! Wonder if they even noticed that?" Bull King, there to check: "I doubt it. I'm just glad I'm not legally married to anyone. Don't want any loose ends before me and Iron Fan get hitched."

Erlang and the Six Lads of Plum Hill/Meishan Brothers are all sworn brothers too - in a more frat-boy/brothers-in-arms sense. They've all likely know each other for decades, and legit see each other equal to siblings. Notably, Erlang shares the bounty he received from capturing Sun Wukong fairly across his brothers (and presumably the remaining odd bit for the dog). Four of the brothers are Marshals while Two are Generals, giving more credence to the headcanon of Wukong's Stalwarts being his sworn family as well. In an odd bit of hilarity amongst the tense fight of Flower Fruit Mountain, the bros even rib Erlang for thinking too hard about Wukong.

Erlang, trying to be cool and edgy: "What a foul being to dare call himself equal to heaven. I ought to-" Plum Hill Lad: "Aww! Elder Bro has a crush!" Erlang, flustered: "I DO NOT!!" Plum Hill Lads, all cracking up and making kissy faces: "Then why are you thinking about him so much?" "Major sus bro!" "If you wanna fight him so much why don't you just marry him?" (*Invasion is paused as all six Plum Hill lads start rough-housing with their elder bro. Many head-noogies are inflicted.*) Wukong, on the ground: "You know what those guys are talking about Macaque?" Macaque, teasing: "Why, are you interested in him or something?" Wukong, blushing like a schoolgirl: "Oh my gawds! Stahp!"

Curiously, Wukong describes himself and Erlang as "sworn brothers" later in the book; suggesting that they had a close relationship at some point. One of my fave pieces of art (can't find it rn) is Erlang asking Wukong to be his "sworn brother", and Wukong assumes he means "spouse" and gets confused when Erlang mentions having six more. XD

A "lesser" case would be; The Tang Emperor declaring Xuanzang/Tripitaka his oath/sworn brother because the monk is doing him a solid. The Emperor shows his immense gratitude, and Tripitaka gains some political clout that he can throw around if he needs to (the Empress of the Kingdom of Women even sees this as a marriage bonus). Tripitaka def doesn't do the "blood" or sacrificial part of what these rituals imply, as per his Buddhist upbringing, but it's still seen as a binding oath. Rather, they bow to one another and declare their status are sworn bros before an image of the Buddha in the monastery.

In Tripitaka's case, it's more of Emperor Taizong being like; "Look, this pilgrimage is so important to me that I'm gonna legally and spirtually count you as my little brother so that you understand how much I trust you." Meanwhile the monk is like; "What?Thats a bit much don't you think?"

Later on, the promise of becoming one's sworn brother is passed between characters akin to "If you pull this off for me, I would straight up be your best bro."

And ofc the Pilgrims consider eachother sworn kin/brothers at the end of the story, even if they didn't do a ritual to seal it.

So yeah in summary:

Rituals can be performed but are not 100% required. Even a mutual declaration before an idol/holy image is enough. Whilst the Brotherhood of Sages celebrate their new pact through booze and partying and blood sacrifices - Tripitaka and the Tang Emperor just declared it while in a monastery.

People did it for money and political reasons too.

They also did it cus "It ain't gay if it's brotherhood."

Sworn kinship can be forged overtime.

The celestial and infernal archives have the reciepts.

Btw you can do a "sworn divorce" if you and your bro have a falling out.

Whilst the practice isn't really a thing in modern China, I imagine it's still common amongst yaoguai and/or celestials.

[ask-codeearasure]

Dreamswap Design Critiques

Okay, I haven't read or even looked at Dreamswap in the SLIGHTEST however, Sarco has ranted to me about it, and then gave me the designs of Dream and Nightmare and…. I HAVE A COUPLE THOUGHTS… 

That is putting it lightly, I went on a near multi-hour typing spree about them, and then they dragged me into a VC just to hear me rant for many more hours and for whatever reason enjoyed every single second. (I’m pretty sure my friend is a sadist). This was all two months ago, by the way, but I can’t help but still think about this AU and all the bad history behind it.

So hy threw 6 designs at me. I have a couple of analyses and opinions to share based on my own history with character design. That being said, even though both I and Sarco absolutely despise Dreamswap and for many many many justified reasons, this is mainly about the designs of the six main characters, Dream, Nightmare, Ink, Cross, Blue, and Error. The designs for the side characters are bullshit as well, but I’d like to preserve what’s left of my sanity. I like to share what’s on my mind with you guys after all, so long as I can tolerate it.

Where we shall start is with the supposed “villain” of this story that I never read and don’t plan to, Dream.

Looking at the initial “pre-incident” designs, before corruption/villain point, we see something completely odd. The presentation of both Dream and Nightmares’ clothes during this starting point makes them look like their AU takes place during the old western days. I can hear Bonanza’s theme playing in the background when I look at these. Focusing on Dream, we see a lot of pale yellows, golds, browns, blacks, and tans. If it weren't for the blacks, the colors would blend into each other, and far too much at that.

The reason why OG Dream’s color palette, from the second design symbolizing his maturity, works is because the colors are simple and eye-catching. The mix of primarily yellow and black represents Dream’s goal of achieving emotional balance throughout the multiverse. If he was against this, his outfit would have stayed mostly yellow only. But no, the ratio of black and yellow is equal.

Dreamswap Dream looks well-too taken care of to be an orphan or “out of place” in his AU. If anything he probably wouldn't be too out of place in a stand-off at high noon against some random gunslinger from Longmire.

Also if he and Nightmare are not supposed to be siblings and guardianship is different in Dreamswap… why do they still have the metal circlets?

Has anyone ever asked that? Why are the circlets present? Why keep them?

In the original Dreamtale, Nim gave Dream and Nightmare those circlets, and it’s obvious that for them both, they hold great sentimental value and stand for their statuses as guardians to the Tree of Feelings.

With Dream’s circlet, however, it poses a picture-perfect resemblance to the golden filet Sun Wukong, The Monkey King, The Great Sage Equal To Heaven, had to wear throughout the vast majority of events in Journey To The West, which was perhaps either the first or one of the oldest sources of the golden filet’s debut in popular fiction. 

Now there is always a chance Joku incorporated the golden filet into Dream’s design just because it looked cool, and I agree with that sentiment. But walk with me to this pier that the Chinese golden filet does hold great symbolism that may or may not add to Dream’s character for you. I swear this is important to my rant.

In Journey To The West, Sun Wukong is tricked into wearing this golden filet by Guan Yin, the Chinese Goddess of Mercy, and Tripitaka, the monk Sun Wukong must accompany as one of his disciples as they head into India from China to retrieve scriptures important to Buddhist enlightenment. However, Sun Wukong is established to have a nasty temper and a bad habit of resorting to extreme violence and murder, which is why the golden filet has a spell on it. Only Tripitaka and Guan Yin know the words to set off said spell (at least at this time), and when said phrases are recited, the golden filet constricts Sun Wukong’s skull until the pain paralyzes him, thus stopping him from committing the violence and murder he was initially trapped under a mountain for 500 years before in the first place. The golden filet serves as a source of punishment for Sun Wukong, it gives him a reason to learn self-restraint and control, it quite literally forces him to if he wants the freedom and enlightenment he’s working for. It ultimately is a big factor in what makes him a better person by the end of the journey.

Yeah, I know, pretty wild stuff. Chinese mythology was off the shits back in the day and Journey To The West is also the origin of just about all common tropes in modern fiction today, including that golden filet.

How this applies to Dream is the golden filet on his design may imply the exact opposite. Whereas the golden filet actively disciplined Sun Wukong, ultimately teaching him the discipline of character, Dream has way too much discipline. So much discipline, so much self-control and self-restraint from his own personal wants and needs, that he hardly gets to enjoy his own life. And this quality of character in Dream is necessary given his conflict with Nightmare and the balance of the multiverse being in direct tandem with which of them lives or dies.

Everyone benefits from Dream’s excess of self-discipline, but Dream actively suffers on the inside with that trait being one of those adding factors. So to the people who insist canon Dream has no character flaws at all, here’s a big one for you served on a silver spoon. Enjoy!

Back to Dreamswap, if Dream and Nightmare are not siblings, are not treated as siblings, and are just two random boys who met each other from the same AU, why do they have the circlets at all? There is no Nim in the narrative to hand them off, so why do they have them? Where did they get them? What the fuck do they represent? The guardianship the creator clearly didn’t care enough about to think through?

I know a part of why Dreamswap was created was to spite Jokublog on the behalf of petty drama, most of which was caused by a language barrier, and so the creator didn't bother to think about the designs or the story influencing those designs through enough. The entire story, mainly what became of the Dreamtale brothers, was created to bastardize the original. It was all a statement, yet people pretend it was all initially created for “fun” as a little sandbox concept they could do whatever the fuck they wanted with.

And to an extent… yeah, sure, the latter is true now, but that wasn’t its purpose at the beginning.

I’m getting off track.

Let's be clear with something, crowns/filets symbolize royalty, upper class, and if anything else, power and authority. When I first saw these designs I got two contradicting messages from them: Royalty, and Old Western. These things can exist at the same time depending on the creative work, and after all, England always had royalty, but the Old Western theme was set in America. This is why I have a problem with it.

Then there is the fact that both Dream and Nightmare have matching outfits. Not exactly 1:1, but they are very eerily similar, almost as though they both go to the same school and have to wear a uniform.

Gold and Silver often give the image of royalty and purity and this does the same for the both of them. They look far too alike to be two random kids who just so happened to be adopted under the same roof.

They look far too alike to NOT be siblings.

They look far too alike to NOT be just made from spite and spite alone.

Now to not be too mean towards these designs, for a character who is going to inevitably be a villain or at least have an antagonistic role that challenges the protagonist in some important way, having Dream’s outfit be buttoned up is a good way to symbolize a “closed off” nature. A way to show he is secluded socially and personality-wise, hiding his motives and keeping his cards close to his chest.

But that is the only good thing I can say about the design… the first design.

Now for the full villain design…

Oh god, the fucking villain design.

This is where that whole “Old Western” out of place thing comes into play. That jacket he is wearing is not something that would be from an old western AU and it clashes with everything else.

To get to the point, as someone who tends to overdesign the HELL out of her characters, this character is overdesigned. Again, the colors of the jacket blend together horribly, and blend into his wings horrendously to the point that it's just a yellow mass. And even then the clothing under the jacket looks to be the same one from prior to the corruption so the argument still applies, but now the message of being a sign of him being “closed off” now is null and void.

He looks far too heroic to be a villain!

You can make the argument that he is convinced he is a hero, but that argument falls dead on the vine when you can't read the character as the villain he is supposed to be.

Villain characters are supposed to fully communicate that they are villains. Plain and simple. Take for instance, Darth Vader from the Star Wars franchise.

He dresses in all black, black being an EXTREMELY COMMON way to communicate that someone is a villain, the same goes for red, hence why he is always depicted having a red lightsaber.

Another villain is Veigo from League of Legends. Another way that villains are communicated is via sex appeal. Veigo has no shirt on, a black leather jacket, black leather pants, black armor pieces, and has a few pale colors to contrast that aside from this toxic yet ethereal teal/green which is a common color to symbolize the Shadow Isles. To help show off his tragic “obsessed lover” aspect and having a “missing piece” (his wife that he is still obsessing over despite being dead for hundreds of years already) he literally has a black hole in his chest. Very few colors, very few details, A FUCKTON COMMUNICATED.

But if that is too simple, let me get another villain from League of Legends because that is my go-to and has riddled my every waking moment with nuclear brainworms from Mars. Send help.

Bel’Veth. What to say other than WOW. Like holy shit. Bel’Veth has design in everything from the moment she floated into the scene in the cinematic she first appears in. Her voice emanates from her so her animation literally cannot lip sync because she is not human, but mimics them. She waddles as she floats to mimic walking, again she isn't human rather mimicking humans, AND THEN THERE IS FACT THAT SHE HAS A FALSE FACE. OH MY GOD.

Okay geeking out aside, design goes far further than just outfits, it goes into how they move and hold themselves. How much posing can tell you about a character. If you look at the physical design you can completely remove the false head from Bel’Veth and you'd see her actual face and multiple eyes, literally revealing to you the actual monster you are looking at. The pale grays and purples on her design are the very colors that have always signified the Void and its corruption.

I know it's not fair to compare a couple of random artists to a multi-billion dollar company, however, it is best to learn where you can. We all take inspiration from other forms of media and that inspiration can come through in one's own work and we all learn design by looking at the creative properties of the people around us.

To give the best example I have that gives away what Dreamswap Dream is trying to communicate, we must look no further than Kayle from League of Legends.

Now Kayle’s design isn't great, but there is something that it does do better than anything else… in its base form.

Impersonality.

Kayle (pictured on the right), via covering her face, disposes of any personality, any true compassion she can communicate with the viewer of her sense of humanity. Her helmet does so much to communicate that. The fact that she takes it off when she reaches her ultimate form ruins the design completely.

If we were to give impersonality to Dream to show his (which is oddly enough a similar thing to Kayle) impersonal completely “godly” justice shtick some actual fucking leverage. We'd actually get a “Oh, this guy is someone who took justice way too seriously and way too far, it’s become an addicting vengeance” vibe.

But we don't get that.

We cannot get that.

All we get is weird angel vibes from Dreamswap Dream because the creators didn't think his design through.

—

Nightmare.

To show that I'm standing unbiased here I'm going to criticize his original design. Yes, the OG. Specifically his corrupted design.

His corrupted design is literally just OG Sans… who looks like he got pushed to a vat of black paint. End of story. I know it has a narrative purpose to be this simple, but I really want to call it lazy. So I will. It's lazy.

That is what we're calling corruption now? Huh. Okay.

Now to Dreamswap Nightmare’s starting design, pictured above.

It has the very same complaints as Dreamswap Dream’s, however it doesn't have the color palette complaint because it's very different from Dream’s. The silver compliments the blue neckerchief very nicely. But that is the only compliment I can give.

His hero design, however…. (this is only one of them, I know)

Oh, we have a lot of problems because… it's trying way too hard to be canon Dream. It really is. Like just canon Dream but with the color purple overlayed on top of it.

Dream’s Cape was literally the fucking sun flag that his brother gave him to shield him from the rain. That flag/cape/now hood has great sentimental purpose to canon Dream as a character because that is the last remnant he carries of his brother.

So giving Dreamswap Nightmare a cape serves no purpose to the character and thus makes absolutely no sense. Is he trying to hide his identity? Can he feel cold? Is that why he has the cape? Is it supposed to symbolize a wanderer, since that’s what Dreamswap Nightmare is? If so, there are so many different and better ways of doing that so it would actually make him look far more interesting and compelling, and again with the circlets. Why?

Plus the stave, baton, or otherwise unexplained staff thing. What kind of weapon is that? Seriously? Is his fighting style even explored or is that there just to be there? Again, since this guy is supposed to serve as some kind of opposite counterpart to the original Dream, at least canon Dream as reasons for having the weapons he does. Dreamswap Nightmare doesn’t. Every theme put into him, if there even are themes to name, looks like they were just slapped together with no understanding of what the designer really wanted. It’s way too obvious to Sarco and I that Onebizzarekai did not understand any of the themes that made Dreamtale stick out as an AU, and that is part of the active reasons why Dreamswap ended up sucking this much.

If you want an interesting moon weapon, just look at the Lunari from League of Legends’ lore. Seriously. Get some actual fucking ideas. Inject some inspiration into your veins. Please.

—--

Ink…

Okay I'm not AS upset with this design, they actually look like they travel around buuuuuuuuuuut–

What the fuck is behind him?

What is that?

Is it a cape attached to his jacket? Why?

Just… why?

Also the entire point of his scarf was to help with his memory issues, it was to serve as a convenient way for him to take notes on important things he knows he’s going to forget, and since he’s always wearing that scarf, he has free access to those notes whenever he needs them. Does this version of Ink not have any memory problems? I ask that because instead of a scarf, he has a bandana around his neck, which if he does have comical memory loss, is there something else he uses to set reminders?

Does he still have to take his paints to, y’know, live? I ask because he doesn't look like he has his paint vials with him, instead he has a belt of bullets or bullet-looking things….

I see they were trying to make this version of Ink look “badass” but take it from me, the bitch that plays League of fucking Legends, it’s not having a gun that makes a character cool. It’s not being an asshole that makes a character cool either, it’s all the things that influence why they have that behavior that gives them the depth that makes them cool. I mean I’m a fan of Ekko from League of Legends and Arcane. He doesn’t have any of the traits that I just described and he is the most badass character ever written to me, I’ll fight you on that.

Anyways, unless Dreamswap Ink fucking eats bullets, I don’t know what other conclusion I could draw here. I genuinely cannot tell if that’s a sash of bullets or paints sorted in containers that look like them.

—

Cross.

The original scar on OG Cross’ face was given to him by XChara and XFrisk as a way to force him to remember the other timelines. It is literally a symbol of his trauma and the abuse he suffered. He is also a variation of Underswap!Sans by the way. His entire AU’s happiness and designs were inspired by Underswap. He is a Swap!Sans already. Changing his design and scar placement was fucking pointless and says nothing different aside from “I just wanted to make this character look different in the cheapest way despite my deep understanding of the original version of Jakei’s character.”

But again it shows that these designs are not thought through; they were made out of hatred or laziness on behalf of the original creators who made all these characters in the first place.

—

Error.

Oh, where to fucking begin…

Where to fucking begin….

1. What the fuck is that on his back? Are they supposed to be spider legs? Jellyfish tentacles? If they are either – why? Is it because Error is often compared to spiders and jellyfish? I am doubtful that that is the reason why his design looks like this.

2. What the fuck is with the hood? Why?? Like… okay I gotta dissect this.

Error's Lucidia redesign by CrayonQueen actively shows his strings via the stitches on the sleeves and pants, and the bagginess showing that he is a very active character, a way of communicating movement. This also makes him an easy character to draw for the creator allowing them a sense of ease. His scarf is a way to communicate movement as well, allowing it to flap about and show direction for when they draw him in comics.

These choices also show the fact that he is a very VERY simple person. He is someone who would rather lay down at home, watch Undernovela, and stuff his face with chocolate more than anything else, aside from destroying everything he can’t stand.

But with the design by Onebizarrekai, we don’t get any of that aside from the spider legs as something that shows his strings… but he isn’t a spider monster and spiders have exoskeletons, so he can’t be a “spider-skeleton” in that way, and perhaps not a hybrid either, and I don’t think Onebizarrekai was going for a Spiderman-type character for Dreamswap Error anyway.

If you want to show off the strings more, you can always have a webbing design on the sleeves or maybe have strings all over him, or have his outfit be more stitched up. Make it look like he doesn’t care that much about his own clothes, that he rips them to shreds and stitches them back together out of necessity. Maybe he has limited access to clothing and that is why he fixes them repeatedly.

To use an example… I will use my own “version of Error”, Digital Klezmer.

Digital Klezmer is overdesigned – but the separate colors allow him to not have the same blending problem that Dreamswap Dream has. I have his AU set in the ROARING TWENTIES (that’s the 1920s in New York). His AU is set in a completely different era. We’re talking swing music, movies being called “Flicker shows” and every woman is either called “Dame”, “Doll”, or even on occasion a “tomato”. His world is ruled by slang and the stereotypical New Yorker accent.

His cape of fur has his hood seamlessly blended into it, and the cape itself has significance, that being his Papyrus was so overprotective of him that the jacket was specifically made for him and the cape is crafted from fur so thick that if he were to fall over, he wouldn’t turn to dust on impact. That fur would cushion the fall and negate all damage. His Papyrus was that fucking paranoid over his brother’s safety and health.

His voice, as I had described in the story that Sarco and I are writing, his voice sounds like it’s coming from an ancient radio – thus showing how ingrained he is to his own culture and his AU’s era. This is a way to show how much of his background influences who he is as a person and what he does.

I had him play the piano instead of the trumpet, showing a subtle oddity in comparison to other Sanses. The era of where he is from is shown with how practical he dresses aside from the jacket which is sentimental to him. The vest showing class and the turtleneck showing his ties to the cold of Snowedin (yes, that is how it’s spelled in The Outer Realms universes).

His shorts show his ties as a “Sans”, but his practical shoes show that he’s a bit more athletic and isn’t as lazy as the average Sans.

The fur on the hood is also to give a bit of a lion-like feel to him, and enhance his silhouette a bit in comparison to other Sanses. It makes him appear much bigger than he actually is, indicating what he might think of himself and the influence he has on The Outer Realms, and then the Inner Circle of the multiverse.

All of these differences are nothing compared to his personality as a gambler and the way he uses his magic.

Playing poker with this man is like placing a bet on a dying horse, you are gonna lose. Every time. He loves gambling and even actively carries a deck of cards wherever he goes.

His magic is used COMPLETELY DIFFERENTLY than any other Error presented. I had him be someone who plans ahead, and has his team – yes HIS team. He doesn’t work for The Outer Realms’ Nightmare, that Nightmare works FOR HIM – go out as a distraction so he can hack into other universes (specifically negative ones) so he can set them to self-destruct. He weaves his teal strings into ribbons that turn into spears that can do damage based on the tension he gives them. He can control them without moving. He also uses his strings to become claws. And he can even destabilize himself to negate any attack instead of dodging, or even just turn into a string of code to increase his speed. He is active and takes advantage of his new HP but still values his own safety, hence why he is not afraid of getting into fights.

Digital Klezmer takes full use of his abilities and gets quite creative with them, unlike the original Error, who fucks himself over by making each job of his harder for himself.

But he also has an actual weapon. Its story is very important in the future, so I won't reveal its significance here. I’m a total cunt, but I’m not cruel.

But to show how proud I am, I will give you one final tidbit of Klezmer’s design that I am way too proud of. His left eyelight. It’s an “x” with two rings around it. It signifies his focus and endless stubbornness. I thought this shit out FAR MORE than anyone realizes – Sarco legit had to stop me from going on because I nearly gave spoilers. This is why I have an editor breathing over my shoulder, thank you Sarco, I love you. I’d legit fight a bear for you.

This is all to say that I’d LOVE to see more designs and takes on other AUs, I’d LOVE IT. I really would… But these designs are not it, and Error’s Dreamswap design is just… not good at all. It’s so boring, it’s bland in the worst way possible. The only interesting things are the spider legs and they do NOTHING for the character. They add nothing to him.

–

Swap!Sans, or what’s called Swap!Sans or Blue. The bane of Sarco’s existence, and I see why (Ve fucking HATES this guy more than anything fucking hell).

No armor, a shit-eating grin, absolutely no depth to be perceived other than what I’ve already been told. Out of all the designs I have been sent, though, Blue is the only one out of them that looks a little happy, not an angry two year old wishing they could break the camera their overbearing mother stuck in front of their face.

Why is there no armor? Isn’t this guy supposed to be an enthusiastic practicing Royal Guard? Of course not, cause Onebizarrekai seems to have had an addiction to assholes with a base-level characterization and in application to every character at the time they were making Dreamswap.

The entire idea of Underswap in general is that the roles of many main characters were swapped, mostly in occupation but some partial trades in personality. Asgore is the one who lives in the Ruins, Toriel takes her place as Queen and rules over the Underground, Papyrus takes up the simple guard post, and SANS IS IN THE ROYAL GUARD TRAINING UNDER ALPHYS WHO IS THE CAPTIAN OF THE ROYAL FUCKING GUARD.

Deep breath…

There is absolutely nothing in this design that references any of this information, and if Blue is supposed to be extensively different from the original Swap!Sans, which I assume he is, why the shitty casual wear? He’s definitely not an average Joe, I can tell by the glitch and the ERROR in his left eyesocket, but how he got that isn’t made evident aside from maybe, maybe he got stuck in the Anti-Void at some point. Did he have an encounter with Error or did he end up there via a different source?

What the fuck is that on his shoulders??? Is that supposed to be a fucking poncho. If it is, it’s a BAD ONE. Ponchos are supposed to go down your waist, not stay only covering your shoulders. They are supposed to cover your torso.

Ponchos are a wonderful way to show that a character is someone who travels a lot, they give a very nice silhouette, they also give warmth because that is another thing they do, along with keeping the arms from getting sunburn should your character be in a desert. However, it’s made null in this case because of how… insignificant it is. It’s there, but why? Is it supposed to be part of the cape? I’d assume that if it weren’t for the scarf, and the thing on his shoulders being a completely different color from the thing going down his back so that must mean the thing going down his back is actually a part of his scarf. SO THEN WHAT FUCK IS ON HIS SHOULDERS??? If it’s not an unfinished poncho, I can’t grasp what the fuck else it could be.

That’s… about all I have for Dreamswap Blue. 

Fuck, I don’t like any of these designs. They add nothing to whatever vision Onebizarrekai had for these characters, only take away what made the original versions so interesting in the first place, and it’s not like I can efficiently judge these designs on what their Dreamswap counterparts were going to be, because Dreamswap doesn’t have a concrete story or character work, which makes sense considering all the themes it has fucked up. I took one look at their pinned post and found this.

Drawing takes effort and I know it takes a long time to learn how to draw, and these guys have some talent. I will always give props where it is due. I’m pretty sure all these designs were made back in 2016-2018 too, so they’ve been around for at least 6 years now. I have no doubts Onebizarrekai got better over time.

HOWEVER…

When it comes to character design, the Undertale fandom has problems and as a whole needs to take a step back, take a deep breath and start actually putting in some fucking effort. Like come on guys… and I’m not addressing the people still learning how to draw.

I don’t like saying this but… you all are getting lazy. Are you not thinking about your world design, the lore. ANYTHING, REALLY? By no means is anyone a professional concept artist here and I am not asking for that, if that helps.

I understand, a lot of you are just trying to have fun and maybe I’m the weird one for asking for more, but I actually like thinking about the worlds my characters inhabit, the way their stories reflect in their designs. It’s something that I personally love to do, and no doubt others reading this do too. And a lot of the designs from the fandom don’t really reflect this; those that do reflect, their stories are a handful at most and even then, some of them are only reflective of the designs and don’t show the story they’re supposed to have.

Take Outertale for instance. It’s 100% space aesthetic, but 0 story. The designs themselves make them look like they’re supposed to be attending a space themed party. I got so upset with it not having pushed the designs far enough and having no story I made Outerswap – again no spoilers– I SEE THE GUN, SARCO. STOP. RELEASE ME.

What I am saying is, I want you all to do better because I KNOW you can do better. This fandom has a fuckton of talent behind it but does NOTHING with it. Most AUs I’ve seen are like Dreamswap here, a rehashing of projects that already exist and doing nothing new or interesting with them, and that’s not inspiring. It’s just a pattern.

For those of you still learning, just try. I’m not expecting instant improvement. I’m saying TRY. Put in the effort. We don’t grow as artists and storytellers if we don’t TRY. If you need inspiration, explore other things, especially elements you aren’t familiar with. Look at other people’s artworks, look at videos critiquing character design like TBSkyen – my personal favorite. If you are insecure about storytelling, read more fanfiction, read more books, read more poetry. READ. There is always something you can take inspiration from for your own work and it doesn’t have to be Undertale only. Use as many sources as you like, there is no limit to what you can use at your disposal. GO FUCKIN NUTS, MATE!

There is always room to grow. And that is what shows the most in artwork of all kinds, be it drawing or writing, and what it takes to do that is to get out of your bubble more often. 

Sarco interacts with and follows people who are already doing this, but there’s nothing wrong with more, more, more!!

Anyways, that’s my critique. Have fun, go nuts. You only ever have one spark of madness, don’t lose it.

…trying to force a nice concluding sentence when I’ve been critical this whole time is a tone shift I am not okay with, holy shit. Get away from me. Get out. Run.

– Ouija, edited by Sarco

[ms-demeanor]

Huh. Realized I made a soup from leftovers that would make a pretty decent beginner soup.

Leftover Turkey Pot Pie Soup

The goal of this soup is to be (relatively) quick and easy to prepare and to make use out of leftover poultry. It relies pretty heavily on pre-made ingredients (though you can make those ingredients yourself if you want to)

Ingredients:

Pre-cooked turkey or chicken (one large turkey breast, two medium chicken breasts). You can use leftovers, a grocery store rotisserie chicken, or, optionally, uncooked frozen chicken breasts or thighs. The poultry should not be breaded and the skin should be removed; if you are using uncooked frozen poultry you may want to taste more carefully and make sure to season sufficiently.

64oz poultry or vegetable stock (I used the stock I made out of turkey carcasses and my stock bags of kitchen trimmings from the freezer, but store bought is fine) (if you do not want to or cannot use stock, you can also just use water but you will likely have to add more spices and I would recommend adding one extra carrot and one extra onion)

3tbsp Cooking oil (can be olive oil or canola oil or butter - use what you've got handy and what tastes good to you, you don't have to buy something special for this)

1 cup of frozen peas

2 large carrots coarsely chopped

2 large onions coarsely chopped

3 tbsp cooking starch (most people use corn starch, I use potato starch because of food allergies. Any neutrally flavored starch is fine, but do not use flour).

1/2 cup milk/half and half/cream (you can use a combination or just one of these, it depends on what's in your kitchen and what taste you prefer)

Poultry seasoning (pre-made mix; alternately you can add sage, rosemary, and marjoram to taste. I added poultry seasoning then added extra sage and rosemary)

Salt

Black pepper

Paprika

Garlic powder

3 Bay Leaves

1tsp dried Parsley

Tools:

4-6 quart stock pot with a close-fitting lid

Chef's knife (for chopping vegetables and poultry)

Cutting board

Large cooking spoon

Small bowl

Fork or small whisk

Before you cook:

Read the entire recipe and check that you have all the tools and ingredients listed in your kitchen and ready for use.

Prep your kitchen - make sure there's room in the trash can, that the sink is clear of dishes, and that there is a burner on the stove clear for your pot. Designate a space close to the stove as your working area and set your cutting board there so you can easily transfer from your cutting board to the pot.

Gather your ingredients - make sure that you've got all the tools and ingredients listed. If you want to, you can take the time to measure out everything at this stage and have it ready to go in the pot.

Prep your ingredients - wash and chop your carrots, peel and chop your onions. Remove the skin from your poultry (if frozen, set the poultry aside, you will do something slightly different) and chop into bite-sized pieces.

Cooking Instructions:

Turn the heat on your stove to medium and warm the oil up in the bottom of the pan. Once it is shimmering and flowing easily, add the chopped carrots and onions to the pan.

Add a small amount of each of your seasonings to the pot - no more than half a teaspoon of each at this stage - and stir them in with the vegetables.

Stirring continuously, heat the vegetables and spices until the onions are softened and translucent.

If you are using pre-cooked poultry, add it to the pot and stir it in with the vegetables and spices (if you are using raw frozen poultry, don't add it to the pot yet). Add in the frozen peas at this point.

Add your broth or stock to the pot and stir, using your spoon to scrape the bottom of the pot to make sure nothing is sticking to the bottom. Add the bay leaves to your pot. Increase the heat to high and watch the pot until it comes to a boil.

If you are using raw frozen poultry, NOW add the frozen meat (whole breasts or thighs still frozen) to the pot and bring to a boil. For raw frozen poultry ONLY keep the pot covered at a boil for thirty minutes, watching to make sure it doesn't boil over. Once the poultry has cooked for thirty minutes, use your spoon to remove the pieces from the pot and set them on your cutting board, then cut them into bite-sized pieces. Instructions are the same regardless of what meat you're using after this step.

Once the previous steps are finished, reduce the heat to a low simmer and cover the pot. Let simmer for half an hour.

Taste the soup and add spices and seasonings as needed. You will probably want to add more salt first, half a teaspoon at a time. Add in your salt then stir and simmer for five minutes before tasting again. Repeat as needed, adding spices in small amounts to adjust the flavor as you go.

Once the flavor is close to right, mix the milk and the starch in a small bowl, whisking thoroughly to ensure that there are no lumps. Gradually add the starch slurry to the soup a few tablespoons at a time. Stir between increments, checking for thickness. When the soup is at the desired thickness (should be quite thick, like what you would find inside of a pot pie) taste test the soup and adjust spices as needed.

Add parsley and do a final taste test, simmer for five minutes before serving.

If you want, you can let the soup cool and fill a pre-made pie crust with it (top and bottom crust, making sure to leave holes for venting) then bake in a 400 degree Fahrenheit oven for 40 minutes or until the crust is golden brown.

For the slurry, I like to use 2:1 liquid to starch when mixing an use half and half for the slurry but add a couple of tablespoons of heavy cream after the soup has started to thicken; this is totally optional and if you just go based on what's in the recipe you should be fine.

How to make homemade stock, if you want to:

as you cook over the course of several weeks, gather things like onion tops, the ends of tomatoes, wilty celery, and whatever other safe-to-eat but unpleasant vegetable trimmings you've got and add them to a 1-gallon freezer bag.

Keep the bag in the freezer and add stuff until the bag is full. Once it's full, or if you happen to have a chicken or turkey carcass and a mostly-full bag, add the frozen trimmings and any meat trimmings or carcasses you have to a large stock pot (at least a two gallon pot).

Add in a few cloves of garlic and a few bay leaves

Add in water until the vegetables and trimmings are completely covered.

Bring to a boil.

Reduce heat and let simmer for a minimum of two hours.

Turn off the heat and let cool

Spoon or strain out the solids - one way to do this is to pour from the pot into a collander and into another large pot. You can also use a slotted spoon or a strainer or ladle out the liquid from the stock pot, but you want to discard the solids and keep the liquids.

Skim excess or undesired fat off of the stock and discard.

Ladle or pour the stock into containers for storage. I like to use cleaned salsa jars and leave about 20% of the space in the jar free, then freeze the stock in jars so I can use it whenever I want to.

If you aren't freezing the stock, use it within two weeks.

[yuri-is-online]

I love masquerade ball trope, specially when you have anonymity when comes to romance.

Can I have number 6?

For Deuce, Malleus and Silver. I would like to know about theirs.

6. Crowley has decided to put together a murder mystery for the whole ball and you've been the first one "killed." Whoever is playing detective seems really upset about that.

My favorite part of romance anything is the pining and masquerade's are great for that (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ I guess they could be good for drama too but eh I am not a huge fan of miscommunication related angst. Unless it's that one route in Tailor Tales... and even then not by much.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, you have to be a special kind of stupid to "hurt" Yuu in front of Malleus, the rest of the event requests can be found on my masterlist.

Deuce

This is bad. Bad with a capital B- during finals week, House Warden Riddle finds out about. And now that he has thought up his angry House Warden, he can add fear to the list of emotions he's feeling, right underneath self-doubt and hatred of whoever decided to pick Yuu off first.

"Wait seriously, you're the detective?" Ace looks as oddly panicked as Deuce feels, their attention firmly on the playing card tight in Deuce's shaking hands.

"I just don't know where I should start." Deuce says nervously, but it is clear he has determination if nothing else. "But you're way better at reading people and I need to know if you saw anyone acting weird." Ace makes a show of looking around the ballroom, the other students are more or less just mingling as they had before. It makes Deuce angry, he settles into himself in a manner that suggests he is about to flip.

"Hey hey look," Ace has both his hands out like he's trying to soothe one of the flamingos, which grounds Deuce only slightly as the back of his brain begins to turn towards an idea without his notice "I would totally love to help you out. No really! It's just don't you think you actually want me to-"

"Of course I do!" Someone shushes Deuce to his right and he glares in way of an apology. No one else has died yet which is a relief, he has to be doing something right. "Aren't you upset that someone decided to pick Yuu off first?" For some reason Ace doesn't respond, if anything he looks a bit crestfallen but Deuce is too caught up in his mixed bubble of emotions to fully notice. "They're already singled out so much, and you know how they always say it doesn't bother them but I know better. I mean not to say you don't- I just. I worry about them so much already and now they can't even enjoy a school dance without someone trying to pick on them-"

"I think you miiiight be reading too much into it Juice." Ace has begun to back away from him now. "And while I would like to help, isn't that against the rules? Wouldn't want to be you when Riddle finds out you didn't win us the game in a card soldier like wa-"

"It was you." Ace stops. Deuce stops to drop into a stance that has Ace really wishing he was not such a slacker on track days.

"If I had known it was you I would have knocked off Jack or something first!" He yells over his shoulder as both boys ignore the established rules of the game in favor of sprinting through the ballroom, a determined officer in pursuit of an only slightly embarrassed knave. "I just thought it would be funny! And jeeze why are you acting like this over a little crush!"

"See I told you." A wise little grey sage nods next to you as you survey the scene. "It's a total race to the bottom between those two.

Malleus

It was not a dark and stormy night until Crowley announced you were the first one out. You don't remember anything in the forecast calling for rain, or NRC students being so afraid of it. The green lightning flickering across the sky suggests a... degree of magic might be involved in this particular turn of events and you do your best to stamp down the tension headache that causes.

"Perhaps it would best if we take a brief recess to let the weather clear up before we continue with our game?" Crowley doesn't wait for anyone to agree with him before leaving, maybe never to be seen again, forcing you to contend with the looming shadow peering over your shoulder.

"You do know I'm not actually hurt, right?" You try to bring Malleus back down to earth, you swear you see smoke curling from his exhaled breath as beady green eyes look you over.

"Of course." He almost sounds like he's pouting, the longer you stare the more his lips purse and cheeks puff, you are surprised he doesn't break eye contact or cross his arms. "But threatening to hurt you in my presence is an insult."

"It was not an actual threat," you carefully take his hand in yours, guiding it to your neck so he can feel the steady thrumming of your heart, politely ignoring the way even more people scramble away from the ballroom. No doubt intimidated by the touching display of intimacy and not the way Malleus's eyes flutter like a blushing maiden as the storm slows to a drizzle. "Crowley just thought it would be a fun game for everyone to play, and since we are all wearing masks there's a good chance the killer-" Another lightening bolt splits the sky with a crack and Mallues's arm tenses. You gently kiss his knuckles and try another approach. "The person pretending to be the killer picked me at random. They don't want to hurt me, I'm not going anywhere." The rain ceases for now, the outburst seems to have rendered the game largely forgotten, with Crowley pointedly refusing to return to start it up and Malleus refusing to move. The band, at least, seems to take the que and starts up the music and Malleus moves to dance with you, making sure to keep you extra close in case anyone gets any ideas of really hurting you.

"I did understand that it was a game." He tells Lilia, even as the old fae shakes his head clearly unbelieving. "But human life is so fragile, theirs more so than most. I can't risk anyone getting any ideas." He won't loose them, not to anything other than time, and even then, if Malleus finds it within his power he will defy fate itself.

Silver

"And now that our first victim for the night has been announced, you may return to your mingling until our killer selects his next prey." Crewel is having way too much fun laying out the dramatic scene before him, even if he is disappointed with the first choice of victim. Silver appreciates his dedication if nothing else, it is always impressive how much attention to detail the Professors at this school put into the small things in events like this.

But he is stalling focusing on that, his purple eyes move to scan the perimeters, Idia is lingering in a corner too focused on his phone to really be playing, besides his first pick would probably have been Azul to save himself the headache. Satisfied he walks (though the people around him part as if he is stalking) away from his position at the entrance to survey the other guests. His hand twitches close to his baton when he senses someone coming up behind him, but relaxes once he notes his father.

"My, my, just what has my sweet boy so worked up?" Lilia seems to be in a very good mood, which relives Silver even if he had expected him to enjoy this game a lot more than he was. "I almost mistook you for Malleus with how severe your face looks." He pauses, gently touching his face as if he will be able to tell just what's so strange about it without a mirror and Lilia's conspiratorial grin grows wider. "Look, even our dear prefect is concerned." Silver's eyes snatch up to the balcony where Yuu sits, leaning on the railing to look at the guests below, mask set to the side lazily as they relive some of his stress with the clear boredom on their face.

The sight catches with the breath in his throat, confusion wrapping him in it's familiar embrace with a strange twinge to it he wants to say he is unaware of but knows he has been feeling more and more in your presence lately.

"I am trying to win the game." He tries, unable to look back at his father not out of fear of his judgement but desire for you to look his way just once. "I don't want this to reflect poorly on Malleus." Lilia laughs, forcing Silver to look at him empty handed with a look of disappointment his father knows he also is completely unaware of.

"Are you sure you aren't worried it will reflect poorly on you?" He watches as his son shifts, torn between wanting to spend time with him and return to his task. "After all, it isn't Malleus who is auditioning right now, is he?" And Lilia spares him the choice, flying off to said Lord as Crewel once again brings the band to a pause to name a student Silver is not sure he knows, and is surprised he does not care nearly as much about.

"Watch me." He silently promises you, bowing towards you just stealthily enough it is barely noticeable. "I will keep you safe prefect, I promise."

"You should give him a kiss when he wins." Lilia whispers into your ear and you nearly fall over the railing with how badly you start.

"L-lilia! I am not sure what you-"

"Or maybe a handkerchief with some perfume?" He is having too much fun at your expense to stop now. "That would suit the aesthetics much better don't you agree?"

[tiredwitchplant]

How to Use Herbs : Rosemary

Hwello there. We have talked about rosemary and its uses in a previous post. If you haven't read it, please click here: Rosemary

Now I shall provide some spells, tonics, recipes and etc on where you can utilize it. Let us begin :)

Author's Note: From I noticed a part is usually a teaspoon. You can add more according to your needs, but I would always start with that measurement first.

Alchemist Formula for Binding:

One part benzoin gum (Saturn, binding)

One part patchouli (Saturn,binding)

One part Solomon's seal (Saturn, protective)

One part rosemary oil (Saturn, protective)

One part frankincense oil (Sun, success)

Mental Focus Magical Tea:

I part rosemary

1/2 part spearmint

1 cup of boiling water

Mix herbs in a small jar

To brew, pour 1 cup of boiling water over 1 teaspoon of the herbal blend.

Steep for 5 - 7 minute. Strain and drink.

Spells:

Remembrance for Lost Love (Heartache Healer)

6 drops of rosemary oil

3 drops of peppermint oil

1 drop of lavender oil

White candle

Add the oil to the top of the candle, one at a time, in a clockwise direction around the wick.

LIght the candle and gaze into the flame

Visualize your fond memories of the person who left your life. As you do this say, "I thank you for the time we had together, I thank you for the love we shared, I thank you for being an important part of my life. We have parted, we move on, we remember. I wish you the best life has to offer and hope you have found happiness."

Allow the candle to burn out of its own and dispose of the remaining wax away from your home or bury it in the spot you and the past partner enjoyed together.

Broom Cleansing Spell

 Use one or any combination of the following botanicals: broom, cedar,fennel, hyssop, rosemary, sage, vervain.

Arrange the botanicals and tie them to the bottom of a branch withraffia, visualizing, charging and knotting. (Any branch may be used,however an ash branch is considered particularly powerful.)

Sprinkle with salted water or any preferred purification formula.

Sweep the area.

Disassemble the broom outside, away from the cleansed space.

 Bury the components in the ground or toss them into living waters, flowing away from you.

Ghost Keep Away Spell (Boundary Line Spell)

Place three peeled cloves of garlic in a bowl, together with one handful of sea salt and one handful of fresh rosemary leaves.

Grind and mash the ingredients together.

Sprinkle them to create a boundary, as needed.

Bad Habits Bath

Add the following to a tub filled with warm water:

Essential oil of clary sage

Essential oil of frankincense

Essential oil of lavender

Essential oil of lemongrass or May Chang

Essential oil of rosemary

Enter the bath and inhale the fragrance, and accompany with affirmations and positive visualizations.

Kitchen Witch Recipes:

Super-Quick Bonus Recipe for Gwion’s Red Onion Pickle Bliss

Fills one pint-sized jar

Prep Time: 10 minutes

Cooking Time: 20 minutes, plus 30 minutes to cool in the fridge

1 medium red onion

3 tablespoons sugar

1/2 cup water

10 black peppercorns

2/3 cup white wine vinegar,

rice vinegar, or apple cider vinegar

1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes

1 sprig rosemary

1 clove garlic, peeled and halved

Slice the onion very thinly and place it in your clean, dry jar. Set it aside.

Add the rest of the ingredients to a medium saucepan and bring to a boil until the sugar has fully dissolved. Stir carefully so you don’t break the rosemary. The sprig is in there to add flavour, and you’ll discard it before the next step.

Let the pickling mixture (the water, vinegar, and spices) cool down for about 10 minutes. Discard the sprig of rosemary and pour the remaining

ingredients into the jar of onions. Make sure all of the onions are submerged

in the picking liquid. If you have to, use a spoon to push the onions down in the jar. Seal the jar and put it in the fridge to cool. The onions are ready to eat once they are cool, about 30 minutes.

Serve them on avocado toast, burgers, salads, or just with a fork straight out of the jar. Remember to kiss your partner or partners before eating the onions out of the jar, unless they’re into pungent kisses.

Goat for a God: Roasted Goat Leg with Grape Molasses

Great for Deities: Dionysus, Pan and Thor

Serves : 6

Prep Time: 30 minutes

Cooking Time: 2 hours and 30 minutes

1 goat leg (about 3 pounds)

1/4 cup + 1 tablespoon olive oil

2 teaspoons salt

1 teaspoon cumin

2 teaspoons black pepper

4 tablespoons grape molasses

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 teaspoon coriander

2 sprigs fresh rosemary

1 cup white wine + one glass for sipping and toasting while cooking (use mead if you're cooking this for Thor)

1 bay leaf

2 large carrots, chopped into

1" chunks

1 celery root, peeled and chopped into 1" cubes

Open the bottle of white wine or mead and take a hefty drink. (This is optional but deities do like when you drink with them but they can respect if you don't partake.)

Preheat the oven to 375° F.

Liberally season the goat leg with salt and pepper.

Rub the minced garlic all over the goat leg too. If it helps, poke a few holes in the goat leg so you can get the garlic right into the meat.

Place the rosemary sprigs and bay leaf in the bottom of a large roasting pan and put the goat leg right on top. Add the carrots and celery root around the edges. Pour the olive oil all over the goat and rub it around. Coat the carrots and celery root too.

Pour the white wine around the bottom of the roasting pan.

Loosely cover with kitchen foil and put the whole pan into the oven for 2 hours.

About an hour and forty-five minutes into the cooking process, it’s time to make the glaze.

Mix the grape molasses—which is a super-condensed syrup made of grape must—in a bowl with a tablespoon of olive oil, the coriander, and the cumin. You can substitute honey for the grape molasses if for Thor.

At the two-hour mark, pull the roasting pan out of the oven and paint the goat with the grape (or honey) and spice glaze.

Pop the goat and veggies, uncovered, back into the oven for another 20 minutes or until the internal temperature reaches at least 145° F.

When you’re ready to serve this dish, scoop the veggies into a bowl (fornow) and put the goat leg on a platter. If you have access to one, get a cedar plank and serve the goat on it.

Medical Tonics and Infusions:

Infusion- An infusion is the simplest way to prepare the more delicate aerial parts of plants, especially leaves and flowers, for use as a medicine or as a revitalizing or relaxing drink. It is made in a similar way to tea, using either a single herb or a combination of herbs, and may be drunk hot or cold.

Pot Infusion

For a cup:

1 tsp (2–3 g) dried or 2 tsp (4–6 g) fresh herb (or mixture of herbs) to a cup of water

For a pot:

20 g dried herb or 30 g fresh herb (or a mixture of different herbs) to 2 cups (500 ml) of water

Warm the pot, then add the herb.

Pour in water that has just boiled, replace the lid, and infuse for 10 minutes.

Strain some of the infusion into a cup. A teaspoon of honey may be added if desired.

Storage:

Store in a covered jug in a refrigerator or cool place for up to 24 hours.

Tonic Making

Standard Quantity:

200 g dried or 300 g fresh herb chopped into small pieces to 1 quart (1 liter) alcohol—vodka of 35–40% alcohol is ideal, although rum hides the taste of bitter or unpalatable herbs

Standard Dosage:

Take 1 tsp (5 ml) 2 –3 times a day diluted in 1 tbsp plus 1 tsp (25 ml) of water or fruit juice.

Place the herb in a large, clean glass jar and pour on the alcohol, ensuring that the herb is covered. Close and label the jar.

Shake well for 1–2 minutes and store in a cool dark place for 10–14 days, shaking the jar every 1–2 days.

Set up the wine press, placing a muslin or nylon mesh bag securely inside. Pour in the mixture and collect the liquid in the jug.

Slowly close the wine press, extracting the remaining liquid from the herbs until no more drips appear. Discard the leftover herbs.

Pour the tincture into clean, dark glass bottles using a funnel. When full, stopper with a cork or screw top and label the bottles.

Storage:

Store in sterilized, dark glass bottles in a cool dark place for up to 2 years. An amber glass jar is the best option.

Sorry this post is so long @_@ But please enjoy and use wisely. Bye byes~

Sources

[aesethewitch]

Beef Stew Recipe - Potion of Fortitude

Whether it's been an exhausting week, a frigid winter's day, or just a stressful time, few things are more comforting than a hearty bowl of stew. I make this beef stew for myself whenever I need a true pick-me-up or when I'm preparing for an in-depth magical working. It provides lasting energy, warmth, and strength.

Plus, this recipe is scalable - make a ton and freeze it to enjoy for weeks or just make a little bit for one meal. The measurements below are approximate; measure with your heart.

Ingredients:

Chuck roast, cut to half-inch cubes (you can get pre-chunked stew meat, which is what I typically get)

Flour, enough to coat the beef

Salt and Pepper (about 1 tsp salt & 1/2 tsp pepper), for seasoning the beef coating

2 tablespoons Unsalted Butter

1 Onion, diced

2 Large Potatoes, peeled and cut into half-inch to one-inch cubes

2 Carrots, peeled and cut into rounds

5-6 Cloves of Garlic, finely diced

4 cups Beef Broth

Herbs of your choice, such as: Sage, Thyme, Marjoram, Celery Seed, Bay, Chili Flakes

Additional veggies of your choice, such as: Parsnips, Turnips, Bok Choy

Salt and Pepper to taste

Instructions:

Mix together your flour, salt, and pepper in a bowl. Toss the beef chunks in the mixture to coat. This will create a nice brown crispiness on the outside.

In your stew pot, sauté your flour-coated beef until browned on all sides. Remove from the pot and set aside.

Add more oil to your pot and cook your onion until translucent. If you don't mind soft carrots in your stew, add them now and cook until just starting to soften and brown. (Note: I often leave the carrots until after the potatoes are nearly cooked through because I don't like the texture of fully-cooked carrots.)

Once your onions are translucent and your carrots have started to soften/brown, toss in your butter and scrape the bottom of the pot. You want to get all those beautiful, delicious brown bits back into the mixture. You can add a little water if you need help loosening the bits.

Add your garlic and cook until fragrant, about 30 seconds.

Put your beef back into the pot (along with any drippings from the plate/bowl you placed it in). Pour your broth over everything and give it all a good stir.

Toss your potatoes into the pot. Bring it all to a boil and reduce your heat to let it simmer.

Add your herbs and spices. I recommend salt, pepper, sage, thyme, celery seed (or salt), and bay. If you like it spicy, you can throw in a bit of chili powder or flakes.

Simmer for at least one hour or until your potatoes are soft and your beef becomes tender, stirring occasionally.

If your stew isn't thick enough by the time your potatoes are done, you can make a cornstarch slurry by combining one tablespoon of cornstarch with two tablespoons of water. Pour the slurry into the stew and let it cook until thickened to your desired consistency.

Season with salt and pepper to taste.

Serve with crusty bread, veggie side dishes, or whatever else you like.

Optional magic you can include:

As mentioned above, I often use this recipe to bolster or replenish my energy before or after an intense magical working. It also works for physical exertions - I made this for a group of my partner's friends while they were moving heavy furniture to a new apartment, and it gave them all the energy to move everything in one night!

This stew has an intense comforting effect. If someone I know has been working hard, stressing out, or hasn't been feeding themselves properly, I'll make this for them to help them remember to take care of themselves. It's rejuvenating, hearty, and full of love.

Depending on the herbs you choose to include, this could also be a powerful protection spell. Especially in the cold months, I use this as a protective ward against the cold exhaustion that pulls at the body and mind.

Pop a bit of chili in this spell to both speed up its effects and cast out negativity! Nothing clears the sinuses like a nose full of spice, and nothing clears the body of bad vibes like a good dose of chili flake.

Like many of my spell recipes, this one is most effective when it's shared. Give a bowl to your friends, your family, your neighbors, whoever. It makes a wonderful offering to house spirits or ancestors.

If you make this recipe, please let me know your thoughts! And if you enjoy this or my other posts, please consider dropping a couple dollars in my Ko-Fi tip jar!

Happy cooking, witches! 🍲

[adobealmanac]

Appalachian Traditions from my Father

My dad and his relatives came from the Netherlands, however, when they arrived in America they settled in the Appalachia's. Many of my relatives on his side still remain in those mountains, and thus, continue practicing the rich traditions of one of the oldest mountain ranges. Here I will document some of those old-fashioned remedies and superstitions:

Remedies:

To cure a fever take a bulb's worth of garlic, and a few layers of the largest onion you have on hand and wrap them in a cloth as if you were rolling up dough to cut fresh linguini. Sinch each end with a piece of twine. Take a hammer and with all your rage beat the cloth into a pulp. Once the contents are sufficiently mashed tie the cloth around the wrists, right over the pulse. Leave the poor man's poultice in place until the fever reduces. It should take effect in around an hour.

Headache bandages were one of my great-grandmother's go to remedies to enjoy during a nice warm winter night after a long day of hard work. It would take away any symptoms of a sore head swiftly. First, grab one or two paper bags and cut them widthwise into long, thick strands of brown paper. They should be long enough to stretch across the front of your forehead and onto the sides of your temples. heat up some apple cider vinegar so that it is warm but not hot. Drench the strips of paper in the vinegar like you are making paper mache. Then, apply the strips onto your forehead so that it is thoroughly covered and pat them down with a washcloth. Cover the strips with a headband or bandanna so that they do not drip onto your hair or face, and leave in place until the soreness is gone.

Throat salve is a cozy drink we used to make to sooth a soar throat. First, combine the juice of one lemon with a cup of water. Boil the lemon water on the stove. Once it is boiling add a tablespoon or two of honey depending on your own preferences. I typically add two as it cuts the sourness of the lemon, plus the honey is good for you. Boil the mixture until it is all combined and serve hot in a mug. You may garnish it with a lemon slice to make it feel fancy.

Sunburn Soother is a simple thing to make. Begin by picking some fresh sage, and lavender if it is in bloom from your garden. Get about two cups of water boiling, and add the herbs. Boil it until a strong tincture is made. Make a similar tincture out of black tea too. I usually leave both boiling until there is just a bit of liquid left in each. Get about a cup of fresh aloe (or bottled, either works so long as it doesn't contain alcohol) and combine it with your tinctures. Once thoroughly mixed apply to the sunburn liberally as needed.

Vicks Vaporub is a cure all as my granny says. Got a cough? slather it on your feet and cover them with socks before going to bed. Anoint yourself with Vicks while doing the sign of the cross to cast out and protect from evil. Congested? Rub it under your nose and on your chest. Going near a decaying animal carcass? shove some in the openings of your nostrils to prevent that god awful scent. Need to fake cry at your enemies funeral? Dab some of that good ol' Vicks Vaporub underneath your eyes. It can even be used to oil a squeaky door. If you don't have a jar that is older than you and somehow still full, go buy one on amazon! Vicks is the gift that keeps on giving.

Superstitions:

Minding your own business is a powerful thing in the dusk draped skies of the Appalachian forests. Whether you hear your name called out on your evening walk, or seeing your neighbor walk to his barn late at night, keep your head down. It don't involve you now, does it? Whether you believe it's a cryptid out there ready to strike, or the moonshiners up to their hobbies, leave them be. Live and let live is the word of the wind, and thus is the virtue of Appalachian life.

Is your ear itching? That means someone has spoken your name. Pay attention to which ear is tingling. If it is your right, they are speaking truthfully about you. They may even put in a good word. However, if it is your left, they are spreading gossip and speaking ill of you. If this is the case, carry a sprig of rosemary on you until five days have passed since the last tingle of your left ear. This will protect you from any ill will sent your way.

The pillows of the dead often contain a wreath of feathers known as an angels crown. Often, it is believed that they signify your loved one being allowed into heaven. However, if you find one in the pillow of a living soul it may signify that their time is near. That is why it is so important to fluff your pillows each night, as you want to break up any budding wreaths before they lay claim to your life.

Drinking alone is never acceptable. Whether it is tea or scotch, be sure to pour a little out on the ground to quench the spirits. I always keep a small clay figurine by the kettle to give a drop of tea to in the morning. Drinking without offering some to the nearby spirits could upset them.

Iron nails can be strong protective amulets. Whether you nail them into the corners of your bedroom or fashion a cross out of them, they provide strong protection against malevolent spirits and evil forces. Superstitions around iron from Appalachia are quite similar to those spoken about in my post the magic of scissors.

Witches marks are said to protect your home from malicious spells and witchcraft. They can be easily fashioned out of sticks by making a five-pointed star with sticks and strings. Place this above the entrance of the home to ward off evil.

While many of these superstitions and remedies are shared around the world, my dads family from the Appalachians continue to practice these folk practices, and thus they remain a strong part of the culture in such an isolated and harsh environment. Many folks from the Appalachian mountains continue to practice folk healing and magic due to the isolated nature of many parts. They take care of their own, you know? The mountains provide a unique environment where the woods truly have some unique powers. While I myself do not reside in those hills, my ancestors on his side did and I continue to practice their ways to connect to them and their homeland. I fondly remember my trips to visit family in the region and the unique culture that fosters there.

[starcunin]

@silvertiefling sent: ❛ how can you be so smart yet so dumb at the same time? ❜

Hunting tonight had been… messy. Not that he’s opposed to a bit of bloodshed, but the chaos——oh, the chaos——could’ve been handled better. He can still taste the coppery tang of blood on his tongue, warm from the fresh kill, though the metallic satisfaction does little to soothe the irritation gnawing at the back of his mind. He’d moved too fast, or perhaps too soon, and if it hadn’t been for the ferocious snarl behind him——and a well-timed lunge from Katya——he might’ve ended up skewered by some back-alley fool with a blessed silver dagger. And now she is watching him, no doubt piecing together a clever little insult in that sharp-tongued way of hers.

His dagger stills, and a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, even before she opens hers. He knows what’s coming. He can feel it, that curious mix of exasperation and amusement, coiled like a wolf’s snarl behind her teeth. Then her voice, low and edged with the usual bite: “How can you be so smart yet so dumb at the same time?”

Astarion lets out a soft, breathy laugh——more amusement than real mirth——and raises an elegant brow as he sheathes the dagger with a practiced flick of his wrist. The familiar jibe doesn’t rattle him; it never does. If anything, it’s become part of their strange, twisted rhythm, this peculiar dance between monster and monster. Keeping secrets, keeping distance——except when they aren’t. His crimson gaze flickers toward her, lingering on the shape of her horns, the way the silver light carves shadows into the planes of her face. She’s got that look again, the one that suggests she’s three seconds from ripping someone’s throat out, and it makes his grin widen.

❛ Ah, darling, ❜ he drawls, his voice thick with false sweetness, like poisoned honey, ❛ isn’t that the riddle of the ages? Though I prefer to think of it as a charming paradox. Keeps people on their toes. ❜ He shifts slightly, stretching with a feline languor, though the tension in his shoulders betrays him. A hunter should never miscalculate. He had. He hates that she saw it, but he’ll die——again——before he admits it outright. Still, her pointed words hang in the air, undeniable as the stars above.

❛ Well, I mean, ❜ he adds, lifting his chin in an arrogant tilt, ❛ if you’d care to enlighten me, I’m all ears. Surely, you must have some sage advice, hiding there beneath the fur and fangs. ❜ His eyes gleam, wicked and teasing. ❛ Or perhaps you simply enjoy saving me from time to time? I could almost get used to it. ❜

[ontologicalmoki]

chicken noodle soup! Recipe adapted for only one functioning arm!

(It’s delicious) (and also too hot to eat so I’m typing instead)

1

raw chicken thigh

1

Tbs butter

2

ounces/1 quarter cup pre chopped(!) celery and also 2 more oz carrots (also pre chopped)

1

qt chicken beoth

1

handful of flour

3

little circles of taglietti noodles (they were the only egg noodles in the house) (I can’t spell)

SOME

thyme and sage

ALSO

salt

AND

a splash of rice wine I forgot I added that.

• get the pot warm with a tablespoon of butter in it, like medium heat.

• cut the chicken up into little pieces with kitchen scissors (genius)

• add chicken pieces to the pot, salt liberally.

• add a splash of rice wine bc it makes the chicken cook better. Could use any cooking vinegar, but be sparing if you do that. Could probably use like. Other alcohol too. I just only have cooking rice wine. anyway then add a bit of thyme and sage, maybe parsley. (Could go the whole nine miles and add rosemary too) (don’t overdo these)

• when the chicken is like mostly cooked, add the handful of flour and stir until the flour browns

• before the flour burns, add a generous splash of chicken broth and stir. Get all the flour mixed in. Then add another hefty splash of broth and stir that in. Then you can probably add the whole carton. Make sure the flour incorporates smoothly each time. The goal is no dough lumps. (Do this with your functioning arm or you’ll regret it)

• dump the containers of precut celery and carrots in your soup! No chopping required!

• low boil until the carrots are kinda soft ish.

• break the tagliettis (no idea what any of those letters are supposed to be) up into soup sized pieces without using your dysfunctional arm. Main options are punch the bag of them or use a bag that’s already been kinda mushed being in the cabinet. Or just use regular egg noodles in the first place but these are pretty yummy (soup has cooled down now)

• cook until the noods are done. Ask someone with two arms to get a bowl out of the cabinet for you, and ladle with your functioning arm. (Small drip cleanup may be necessary) (unless your roommate takes pity on you and does it for you after watching you drip slightly with the first scoop)

• eat!

(Some steps have been revised based on what I should not have done with the dysfunctional arm)