#fortuna family

[m1d-45]

any chance of a part 2 of opportunities arisen? perhaps tighnari finds out who we are? or someone else comes after us? 👉👈 i love him sm and ur characterization of him is perfect, that fic is 100% canon in my mind for every imposter au now

prime fortune

a/n: hope this one didn’t absolutely destroy your expectations anon. it took a hard left turn halfway through and i couldn’t bring it back—

word count: 3.1k oh wow-

-> warnings: minor spoilers for sumeru archon quest (3.0-3.2), dubious medical facts that you should not follow, likely ooc cyno, excessive use of the word ‘something’ with little reasoning to show for it, cyno’s excellent humor

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie

<< part 1 || < masterlist >

adapting to life in the forest was easier said than done.

you’re often paired with collei, who’s in the middle of a bad eleazar flare that keeps her confined to the village, and though she teaches you the different salves and plants, a lot of it goes over your head.

you’re interested, you are! the liveliness with which she speaks, and the animated gestures from tighnari as he explains proper safety when preparing medicine easily capture your attention, but when she hands you two mushrooms and asks her to tell you which one is morchella….

by some strange luck, you often guess correctly, your intuition knowing more than you do, but when she nods with a smile and asks you to repeat the differences…

your mind falls blank.

something about the density of the fibers inside the mushroom floats through your mind, but you can’t remember whether the true or false mushroom is heavier.

collei’s smile falters, and yours turns sheepish. when she takes you out on walks, slowly walking up the paths so you don’t strain your ankle, you can point at the differences between portobello and death caps, you can pick out holly and honeysuckle and marigold, but here…

you pass the field practice with flying colors, but your basic by-the-books forest ranger tests always end in failure.

tighnari picks out two plants from a small case, holding them up in front of you.

“you come across amir sitting just off the side of a path, clutching his stomach. after some questioning, you determine he has a stomach cramp from dehydration, and spot these two plants nearby. you’re about a 15 minute walk from the village; what do you do?”

one of the plants has many flat white flowers blooming from the top, with yellow centers, while the other has orange petals that form a ball shape on top. you know one of them is yarrow, but not which one…

you pick the latter on a whim, spinning it between two fingers as you think. “pick the petals and crush them into a paste, taking care not to overwork them. give him about a spoonful, which should be most of it, then help him up. report to shirin once we return.”

the blank mask on his face falls into confusion. “how do you even mix up marigold and yarrow?” he asks, picking the flower—marigold, you now recognize—from your hand. “you got the procedure correct, at least, but marigold is bitter and will only worsen his aches. oh, and additionally, the leaves of yarrow—however small they-“

the door to the cottage slams open, jars rattling on their shelves, and tighnari whips around to face whoever it is, one hand steadying a stack of reports.

“and just what do you think you’re- w- collei? is everything alright?”

collei’s violet eyes were wide, her shoulders heaving with breath, when she spoke, exhaustion was evident. “m-master tighnari! the matra are here on behalf of the akademiya! i tried to tell them to wait so i could get you but they just-..”

emotions flashed over tighnari’s face faster than you could catch, eventually setting on a sharp determination. “alright collei, calm down. go find amir and do your best to delay them, but don’t seem too suspiscious, okay? just remember what we planned, i’ll take care of things here.”

her eyes flicked to you, worry evident, but she quickly turned away.

the moment the door closed, you and tighnari sprung into action. he collected the plants from your test and tucked them into their proper places, you standing to help return a mint plant back to its place.

he caught your wrist, taking the pot. “don’t. take your bag and go, don’t worry about this.”

you hesitate for longer than you should, then nod. he lets you go and returns to his case, and you move to crouch by the bed. feeling under it, your hand eventually brushes against a cloth handle, which you grab. you take a step to unlatch the window with one hand and sling the pack over your shoulder with the other, leaving with your good leg first. as you carefully close the window behind you, you can see tighnari moving to hide all the notes you’d taken, the only sign of his worry being his tail lashing behind him and the slightest flick of his ears.

with a soft smile, you turn away.

tighnari checked over his room once more, ensuring that every trace of your presence was scrubbed clean. your laundry was out and mixed with the rest of the rangers’, but your notes and records were carefully hidden under patrol logs and his own personal binders. he knew everything was tucked away, he had explanations lined up and answers to every conceivable question the akademiya could have, but his heart still beat frantically against his ribs. even as he pulled apart and neatened up a stack of patrol logs, repeating the action to look like he was doing something whenever the matra came to his hut, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he missed something crucial.

he had to fight to keep his tail from betraying his emotions, the energy not going into mussing up and then fixing the papers spent on hiding the symptoms of his distress. he knew he didn’t miss anything. the moment you told them the sages were on active lookout for you and he knew you weren’t a threat, he had memorized the plan. he was foolish to worry.

he hasn’t known you for long, barely over half a year, yet his mind is clouded with the same worry as when collei collapses out on patrol. the same numbing sort of adrenaline, the icy feeling in his bones even as his skin starts to burn up, the apprehension in every movement, as if at any moment-

somebody knocks on the door.

tighnari takes a steadying breath and fusses with the papers a final time. “come in!”

the door creaks open and he taps the papers on the table, turning slightly to speak over his shoulder. “sorry, you caught me in the middle of something.”

“no matter,” a familiar voice says, and he can’t stop the way his body freezes at the speaker.

he carefully tucked the papers into a folder, finally turning around. “general mahamatra. to what do i owe the honor?”

cyno crossed his arms, red eyes surveying the room. “oh, nothing at all. just somebody from vimara village reporting somebody that looked suspiciously like the primo fortuna walking around with collei when they’re supposed to be in liyue.”

tighnari stares. the primo fortuna…? he thought they were after you, but you couldn’t be…

“are… are you suggesting somebody is attempting to imitate the creator?”

sure, he wouldn’t deny you shared some features—you had the same shape of nose, you were around the same height and build—but for you to be the creator? no, it wasn’t possible. your eyes were much kinder, you stopped and helped nasrin when she couldn’t find the proper forms, you directed shirin to the area of the forest where you and collei found nilotpala lotuses, you were nothing like the creator he saw at pardis dhyai. you didn’t stare with glazed eyes as padisarahs and sumeru roses were brought forth, you listened in earnest when he spoke about the differences between the various kinds of ferns.

if anybody were to meet you, they’d know in an instant you were not the creator.

his heart itched within his chest. he ignored it as worry.

“that’s exactly what i’m implying. as i’m certain you know, their identity is hallowed, and anybody attempting to infringe upon it needs to meet justice.” the golden eye on his headpiece flashed, the sides beginning to narrow into eyes before he shook his head and it passed. “but in truth, that is not why i am here.”

tighnari stared. despite having a fondness for jokes, cyno was never one to laugh about his duties. “what do you mean? collei told me you were here on behalf of the akademiya.”

“the matra are here on behalf of the sages,” he clarified. “i… i am here for other reasons. personal ones.”

his eyes flicked around the room again, and tighnari’s narrowed. “well, don’t hide behind double meanings, then. what is it?”

cyno’s jaw flexed as he chewed at nothing, his arms uncrossing. his eyes focused somewhere around the bed, and he seemed lost in thought. whatever it was, it had to be a big deal, but for him to hijack the matra’s arrival instead of coming on his own time…

“the one on the throne is not our god.”

he said it with such conviction that tighnari found himself agreeing, waiting for whatever had gotten him worked up, and it was only when cyno’s eyes closed as he braced himself that it registered what he said.

“what?”

“i have gathered evidence across many sources, both academic and religious, common and exclusive, and i can’t bring myself to kneel at their feet any longer. i have been ignoring my own mind for too long for the sake of my conscience, and i am confiding in you now what has been brewing in my mind for months.”

in the silence that stretched, tighnari almost wished he hadn’t spoken.

the way he spoke, from his words to his tone, reminded tighnari of when he reported to the sages, like he wasn’t tighnari to him and was instead an authority.

“cyno, i don’t.. is this why you didn’t go when they were at pardis dhyai or sumeru city?”

he nodded. “i can’t be in a place where they’re being worshipped when i’m so conflicted. i thought about pulling you aside in the city, but…”

tighnari didn’t think he’d ever seen cyno so meek in his words, none of his normal power behind it. he’s… tired, a quality he knows he’s felt but has never seen on him, the almost nervous way he keeps glancing around the room edging on alarming.

“alright.. uh, moving past that for a moment, what does that have to do with why you’re in gandharva ville? wouldn’t you want to not be involved?”

cyno’s eyes dragged from where they were locked behind him with uncharacteristic slowness. “the person you’re hiding may be the real creator.”

the simplicity to his words had tighnari believing it, even as it didn’t fully register in his mind. he knew cyno attached a religious aspect to his work, to the point the people in sumeru city sometimes calling him an extension of their judgement—even as it was more like the akademiya’s, most time—so he knew that whatever he said on the topic was both well thought out and reliable.

which is why he was silent even after it clicked.

“what are you saying, cyno?”

“they’ve been staying here, haven’t they? in this room?”

“this is my and collei’s-“

“don’t tell me you haven’t been able to feel the difference in the air? the way it seems to flow slowly, lingering, like it has something to wait for? there’s no heavy blankets on the bed, and yet everybody else is talking of how cold the weather’s been lately.”

“that’s because this is an insulated room, and we’re right up against a cliff.”

the quick pace to his heart was back, this time less of worry and more of confusion. you couldn’t be the creator, not when you bore so little resemblance to the one on the throne. you were good at what you did, plants thriving under your care even if you forget to water them. call him selfish, but tighnari almost wished the creator could go back to wherever they’d been, since they’d been much kinder there, both to their vessels and the world.

you weren’t them. they weren’t even close to being you.

“you’re considering it.”

he crossed his arms, forcing himself to still. “i’ll admit—not that you didn’t already know it—that we have taken a refugee into the village, one the sages might call a criminal-“

“that’s not what i mean, tighnari, and you know it.”

“can you give me a minute? you can’t just drop a massive load of information on me like that and expect me to continue like it didn’t happen!”

“you’re reacting oddly.”

“well of course i am, you’re telling me the same person i took in and sheltered from your bosses is somebody you want to take away back to them, and that’s not even covering their injuries- they’ve barely been able to walk outside of the village, and you want to take them to the city?”

“when did i say anything about the sages?”

tighnari stopped, his chest heaving. his hands froze mid-air, his tail still flicking in a mix of irritation and stress, thoughts moving quicker than he could understand them.

“what?”

“i never said anything about the sages. i never said i would take them.”

“w- well it’s implied, if not in your words then-“

“i don’t deal in implications. you know this.”

he did.

he knew cyno. he knew how he spoke and acted, he knew that the small emotion in his eyes was indicative of empathy and not ruthless justice. he knew he held reasoning in high standards, he knew that if he stopped and thought about the words coming from his mouth then he would agree.

but he couldn’t think.

all of his usual composure had faltered and faded, leaving him grasping for a hold as his thoughts swam like a raging river around him, even standing a struggle amidst the tide. all he could do was watch, his head racing and hands shaking, as cyno stood on the bank of rationality, with his crossed arms and cool eyes that dared him to step forward and sink beneath the waves.

he had no real reason to fear so much for you. by now you were gone, by now you were safe and far past the statue of the seven by the chasm, hidden in a place where even cyno would struggle to find you. you were crafty, clever, and you had more than enough supplies to last until he could go to find you.

he had no reason to be afraid.

yet his heart still raced a rhythm he couldn’t follow, his mind tripping and skipping with worry.

why?

his tail wrapped around his side and he picked out a cluster of petals from it, mostly just to give his hands something to do.

as he did, he noticed it was a full flower, likely knocked off one of the samples on the desk. it was small, blue, with smooth petals, and he recognized it after a moment’s pause.

“this is a hydrangea. what is it used for?”

the flower quivered in your shaking hands. “root and stem are for… for medicine. petals are tea.”

collei nodded, smiling brightly. “exactly! you’re a quick learner, aren’t you?”

you smiled sheepishly, trying to hand her back the flower, but collei held up a hand, closing her pack with her other hand.

“no, you keep it. take it as a congratulations for all your progress!”

you were hesitant to accept it, that much was clear, and tighnari tied off the small parcel in his hands before speaking.

“you really have done well. you’ve only been here for a few weeks, but you’ve learned a lot.” he set down the packed herbs beside where he was leaning on the table, directing all of his attention to you. “i know it’s mostly for safety, and you’re not going to be a ranger-“ too much paperwork was required, he couldn’t risk it “-but still. i’m proud of you.”

you smiled.

it likely wasn’t the same flower—that ‘class’ was months ago, now—but it dragged a realization to the surface of his mind.

in the short, fleeting time he’d known you, he had come to care for you as he did collei.

even then, only after a week or two of you being there, a certain fondness had taken root in his chest. something bright, something that bloomed like a rose yet without any of the thorns. something that he watered every time you winced when you walked, something you fostered when you helped treat collei’s eleazar when he was out clearing a withering zone.

something that grew as he realized the poultice you had made had helped clear the pain faster than anything he’d made, even as you both used the same recipe, something that lashed out when kamran questioned your place in the village. something that spurred him to action when he thought you were in trouble, even if it was only cyno.

something that burned bright, something hot that blurred his reasoning even when he knew it was wrong, something that made him want to bare his teeth and keep you safe by his side.

something that should be impossible for him to feel towards you, as it was a golden and warm feeling that did not exist in teyvat, only ever glimpsed at altars.

tighnari looked up from the flower and into cyno’s knowing eyes.

“alright.”

relief washed onto his face, a small nod the only other sign that he’d heard.

“i’ll report nothing to the team—i trust you’ve gone over this, given your reaction?”

he let the comment slide. “yes, everybody here knows what to do in the case of the akademiya or the millelith coming here. it was collei’s idea, actually, and she took care to make sure that everybody had it memorized.”

cyno nodded, taking a step towards the door. “good. and if you ever need to collei matra, just get me instead.”

“…”

“do you get-?”

“i got it, cyno.”

[federer7]

Child of Fortuna Family. Strawberry Pickers. Hammond, Louisiana. 1935

Photo: Ben Shahn

[gennsoup]

Family memory is a tricky thing; we repeat some stories to ourselves until we are bored of them, while others inexplicably fall away. Or maybe not inexplicably; maybe some stories, if remembered, would fit too uncomfortably into the present family narrative. One generation resists them, and then the generation that follows never knew them, and then they are gone, overwritten by the gentler sound bites.

Juliet Grames, The Seven or Eight Deaths of Stella Fortuna

[poptartmochi]

sometimes i worry that nero and gioia's relationship between 4 and 5 shifts too much to be realistic but then 🕴️😐😵‍💫 i think about how much the relationship between my mom and i has changed just over the last 3 years and im like ahh okay. so it's like that huh

[zombiesun]

not going to shut up until the family fortuna by lindsay edgar wipes the floor with the night circus as the superior circus ya novel

[acis-arts]

if narinder is the only cat left in the swap au, what happens to aym, baal and forneus? :(

could there be sheep versions of them, then?...

Unfortunately, Forneus, Aym and Baal are gonna be dead in this AU :( They are however still there as characters, just very absent from the main story, as a part of Narinders backstory

Down below, I will be talking about my ideas for them and show you the new characters for this Swap!

In my Swap AU, Narinder was kind of a family friend to them. Forneus was a single mother of two, during a time where all the cats were being hunted down and had to stay in hiding mostly. Narinder had known her for almost his entire life and he knew Aym and Baal since they were born. Because of that and due to their circumstances, he often helped Forneus out and was practically part of the family.

Narinder is devastated by the fact, that not only was he the last cat alive, but the only close thing to a family he ever had is gone. Narinder misses them dearly, and is plagued by the fact, that he can't bring them back.

He will form a found family again in the main story (with Leshy, Heket, Kallamar and Shamura as his followers) and he will do anything to keep them safe and protect them

As for the second question, yeah! There will be "sheep versions" of them!

These are some designs I came up with yesterday! I had already decided that I wanted the Disciples of Kali (the Lamb) to be black sheeps, because the 7 new Lamb character designs should vary in colors as well as horn shapes and I think they turned out really cool!

Since there is pretty much no information about the slaughtered Lambs and they are my OCs, here's some info I have about them so far:

Fortuna is pretty much just a sheep version of Forneus, being a shopkeeper with 2 children that were taken away from her. As for Luna and Sol, I don't want them to be exactly like my headcanons for Aym and Baal. Luna is the older twin who isn't as scary as she looks and actually has a bit of a silly side to her. Sol is very observant and isn't the type to start a conversation with anyone unless it's someone she's close to.

This is all I have for now! Thanks for the questions and Thank you for reading!!

[northopalshore]

hii! love that last post from you <3 you're alw so great and detailed! i was just wondering what are the signs of a really rich spouse... mostly wondering because based off reading your posts i've gotten the impression mine might be? (i have sun,venus and groom in 2nd house in gpc)

Hello!

Rich Spouse Indicators

in the Natal birth chart, Juno & Groom Persona Chart

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊

Listed most to least likely. Also how wealthy they are accordingly.

꩜ Jupiter in the 8th House (juno, natal)

꩜ Jupiter in the 2nd House (juno, gpc)

꩜ Libra 8th house (natal)

꩜ Venus in the 8th house (natal)

꩜ 8th house ruler in 7th house (natal, juno)

꩜ 8th house ruler conjunct jupiter

꩜ 7th house ruler in the 8th house (natal, juno)

꩜ Part of fortune in 2nd (gpc)

꩜ Part of fortune in the 8th (natal)

꩜ Fortuna (19) in 2nd house (juno, gpc)

꩜ Fortuna (19) in 8th house (natal)

꩜ venus in the 2nd house (juno, gpc)

꩜ libra/taurus 2nd house (juno, gpc)

꩜ 8th house ruler in 2nd house (natal)

꩜ 8th house ruler in 4th house (natal) This means they could be born well off.

꩜ 8th house ruler in libra

꩜ Jupiter in Libra in general

Examples:

ฅ Princess Diana has her 8th house ruler & part of fortune in the 7th house. Her sun trines Neptune retrograde in the 10th house in Scorpio. She married into royalty, a family with a long history & that is prestigeous or closed to the public. She has a public marriage but you can see how restrictive it was. (Natal placidus chart, leo over the 8th house)

ฅ Michael Jackson has Jupiter in his 8th house. His first marriage was with Lisa Marie Presley (Elvis Presley's daughter).

ฅ Debbie Rowe, Michael Jackson's 2nd wife also has Jupiter in the 8th and well.. she married Michael Jackson.

Off topic but I have very similar placements to her lmaoo no wonder Michael Jackson has always been my celebrity crush/my type. Jupiter in the 8th, same sun, rising, mercury & venus. Our moons are opposite (hers in Libra, mine is Aries)

I can't marry MJ though TT. Rest in peace, love. We'll take it from here.

ฅ Meghan Markle's 8th house ruler is in the 3rd house but it's in libra. Her Jupiter is also in libra & it conjuncts Saturn (her 8th house ruler). She married into the British royal family.

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊

To answer your question:

Sun & Venus (as well as Mars) in the 2nd house (GPC) to me, means that your future spouse is someone with taste. I'm not sure if I can definitively say he is wealthy (specifically HOW wealthy lmao) but it would only make sense for someone with their drive & aesthetics so heavily focused to be at least well off yes?

Being in the 2nd house, it's likely he'll be spending a lot of his time into earning money and his appearance or even belongings. Always making sure he looks his best.

Groom here means he'll be even more so after marriage. Perhaps he'll be the one to fixate on the aesthetics of your home.

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊

Hope this helps 🫶🏻

Thanks for reading!

@northopalshore

@northopalshore 2024 all rights reserved.

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Embraced

Word count: 816

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x girlfriend!reader

Summary: Charles girlfriend experiences the electrifying passion of the Tifosi as she celebrates Charles victory at Monza, discovering a deep sense of belonging and love within the Ferrari family.

________________________________________________________

The roar of the engines at Monza had always been exhilarating, but today it was different. Today, it was personal. I stood by the edge of the Ferrari garage, nerves fluttering in my stomach like the hundreds of red flags waving in the stands. The Tifosi had always been passionate, their love for Ferrari unmatched, but this time, it felt like I was a part of that love—a small but significant part of a legacy that had spanned generations.

Charles had won. He had taken Ferrari to victory at Monza, and the roar of the crowd was deafening, vibrating through my very bones. The moment the checkered flag waved, signaling his triumph, the Tifosi erupted in pure, unfiltered joy. Their chants of "Leclerc! Leclerc!" echoed across the circuit, a symphony of adoration and pride that sent chills down my spine.

As Charles climbed out of his car, I watched him raise his hands in the air, taking in the cheers and applause like it was oxygen. He was their hero, the one who had brought glory back to the Scuderia on home soil. And as much as I was proud of him, I couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. The energy was electric, the passion palpable, and I found myself swept up in it.

The Tifosi began to chant louder, their focus shifting to the team, to the people who had made this win possible. And suddenly, I felt their eyes on me too. Charles had introduced me to a few fans over the past months, but this was different. This was Monza, and today, I wasn’t just Charles’ girlfriend—I was part of the Ferrari family.

A group of fans caught sight of me and immediately beckoned me over. They were smiling, faces flushed with excitement, and before I knew it, they had pulled me into their celebration. They handed me a red scarf, the iconic prancing horse emblazoned on it, and insisted I wear it. "Per la buona fortuna," they said—"for good luck."

As I wrapped the scarf around my shoulders, I felt their warmth, their acceptance. They didn’t just see me as the girlfriend of their hero; they saw me as someone who shared in their love for Ferrari, their passion for this team, and their unyielding loyalty. The weight of the moment hit me, and tears pricked the corners of my eyes. It was overwhelming, but in the best possible way.

Charles was on the podium now, and the Italian national anthem blared through the speakers. The Tifosi sang along, their voices merging with the anthem in perfect harmony. It was a moment of pure euphoria, and as I looked up at Charles, pride swelled in my chest. He caught my eye, and even from the distance, I could see the question in his gaze. *Are you okay?*

I nodded, giving him a thumbs-up and a wide smile, which he returned with that charming grin of his—the one that made my heart skip a beat every time.

After the podium celebrations, Charles finally made his way back to me, still on a high from the win. He pulled me into a tight embrace, the scent of champagne clinging to him. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, his voice soft, concern lacing his words.

“I’m more than okay,” I reassured him, looking up into his eyes. “That was… incredible. I’ve never felt anything like it.”

He chuckled, brushing a stray hair from my face. “It’s a lot, isn’t it? The Tifosi, Monza… It can be pretty intense.”

“It was intense, but in the best way,” I said, my voice full of admiration. “Charles, you were amazing out there. Watching you win, hearing them cheer for you… I’ve never been so proud.”

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “I’m glad you’re here with me. It wouldn’t have been the same without you.”

The crowd was still cheering, their energy seemingly endless, but in that moment, it felt like it was just the two of us. I held onto him, savoring the victory, the love, the passion of the Tifosi, all of it wrapping around us like a protective shield.

As we walked through the crowd, the Tifosi continued to embrace us, their cheers and congratulations never-ending. They called out to Charles, but they also called out to me, their warmth enveloping me like a second skin. And for the first time, I felt like I truly belonged here—with Charles, with Ferrari, with the Tifosi.

Later, as we made our way back to the team area, Charles turned to me, his eyes shining with happiness. “You know,” he said, “this win isn’t just for me or Ferrari. It’s for you too. For being here, for supporting me, for handling all of this so well.”

I smiled, feeling tears threaten to spill over. “Thank you, Charles. But today was all you. You were incredible.”

[starrysunbeam]

astrology observations 4 ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

-fama(408) is conjunct taylor swift’s karma(3811) asteroid. her superstardom was definitely a divine plan that has to do with past reincarnations. it’s super interesting to look into karma conjunctions in your chart.

-my fama(408) is in scorpio and conjunct my midheaven. this placement just screams sex work and i may have experimented w it in the past oop

-biggest indicators of a karmic tie with someone is sharing 12th house or south node synastry

-i have pisces in my second house at the first degree and girlllll i can’t save/manage money to save my life. common placement for emotional spenders!

-don’t sleep on pars fortuna in ur chart!! pars fortuna is an area of your life you can reap rewards and abundance easily. ex. leo pars fortuna natives generosity is rewarded, aquarius pars fortuna natives are rewarded for fighting for a cause. the house it’s in can be an ideal source for this energy - for example, 4th house would be for your family, 10th house in your career.

-aquarius mercury natives are very much ahead of their time, the type to take interest in things long before they are “trendy”.

-scorpio mercury & midheaven folks love true crime

[gavisuntiedboot]

We Can't Be Friends (but I'd like to just pretend)

Pedri x Reader

Part 1

Warnings: None

Word count: 8.7k

A/N: After a lot of consideration, I have decided to start posting my Pedri series. I think that I can get a lot of interaction with these, and I think it is a good way to feed my soul and get eyes on what is happening in Palestine. So please, if you enjoy this series, consider helping out Palestine. Even if it's just with a click (second link!)

(Also if there are any continuity errors pls pls pls lmk)

Operation Olive Branch is an org working to help raise money to evacuate people from Gaza. I have decided to highlight Anwar and his family, who need to raise $35,000 in order to survive. Please donate what you can:

I will continue to highlight this family on all my posts until they reach their goal inshAllah.

Synopsis: Moving to a new country can be a pain in the ass. So can starting a new job when your position is completely different to what you thought. But nothing is going to stop you from achieving your goal of being the next Law Roach. Not the language barrier, your aching feet on the wonky streets, and definitely not your annoying, full of himself client. Because everything is going to stay professional, right?

~~~

"Bryce, can you please pay attention? God, I hate Americans."

The slow and thick laughter flowed through the line, peppered with static and cutting off whenever a particularly loud vehicle rolled past.

"Self-hating much? You are also American."

"I'm Texan, sweetheart. We are basically our own breed. Now can you help me?" You were finally able to flag down a taxi, stepping in carefully to make sure you didn't flash the driver. The stark white of the flowy skirt contrasted heavily with your bright orange cowboy boots, worn to match the white "TEXAS" baby tee with orange lettering. Your bangles clinked happily against your wrist as the door closed, hair mused by the late September wind. It was a comfort-from-home turned fashion statement, a way to stay close to your roots but show everyone at the office you were the type of girl that people saved on their "cool y2k outfit inspo" Pinterest boards. At least, girls back home would.

"How the hell did you move to a foreign country without learning the language?"

"Because I was supposed to be in PARIS, remember? I didn't minor in French just for mierde and giggles."

"Yeah, yeah, and then Paris decided to self destruct. I've heard the story. Just put me on speaker already."

Through the phone, Bryce's Spanish flows fluently as she instructs the driver to deliver you at your new place of work. Style Di Fortuna was one of the best styling firms in Europe, if not the world. Located a mere two streets from the Passeig De Gracia, there was nowhere better for a young woman to start her career in the fashion world. Except you weren't supposed to be here.

The plan had been perfect. After 4 years working your fingers bloody at UT Austin, you finally turned the bright orange tassel and accepted your B.A. in fashion. You were able to say "couture" with the perfect amount of phlegm to be taken seriously by the French snobs you had interned with, the ones who were supposed to be your colleagues after you graduated. The dreams of smoky cafes, bike rides through the city, and the lights of Paris fashion week were often the only things that helped you push through your professor telling you that you sewed like a blind sloth.

But then the French did what they do best: went on strike. For months. And after the long periods of no productivity and the destruction of half the inventory, you got the concise email that you would need to find employment elsewhere. About a week before you moved to France. So in a blind panic, you applied to every job you could think of within Europe, desperate to not have your first year post grad be spent at the soup kitchen or bagging groceries. You finally heard back from one of your contacts, another alumni from your school who said they could get you a job in Spain, but it was a little far from the type of fashion you wanted to do.

A "yes please I'm begging" email and 24 hours later, you had a job with SDF. Hey, fashion is fashion, and if you have to start by styling TikTokers in sparkly mini dresses before you could get to the good stuff, so be it. There were dues to be paid after all. So you grabbed your already packed bags and changed your ticket from Paris to Barcelona.

"I can speak Spanish. I lived in Texas for 21 years. Just not... Spain Spanish." You said quietly, rummaging through your bag for the ID that had been mailed to you the week prior.

"Right, and my white ass took it in school and he seemed to understand me just fine. So you, Miss Texican, need to stop with the perpetual fear that people will think you're stupid. Be confident and just speak. The company is Italian, anyways. Most of them will probably speak English, and if not, they'll think you're exotic and sexy."

"Mhm I'm sure."

"You're going to do great, okay? Just be yourself. You had like ten billion friends at home. It's almost impossible not to like you. You got it girl - go hook 'em."

Laughter bubbled out of you at her cheesy pep talk, feeling lighter already. She was right - even if you had gotten this job on the fly, your portfolio was super impressive, and people had no trouble liking you. So what was there to be worried about. After bidding her goodbye and having the courage to thank the driver in Spanish, you stepped out of the cab to the front steps of the new building. It was much taller than the surrounding, standing out like a sore thumb amongst the lower buildings and pale stone. Making your way up to the 16th floor, you were quickly ushered past bolts of bright fabric, racks of shoes worth millions, and some very stressed (yet very stylish) other employees.

"So excited that you're going to be joining our team! It is going to be so helpful having some international input to make sure we are not pigeon-holing our clients into fashion that is not received well globally. You will be reporting directly to Katerina, and she will report to me. Your colleagues are mostly male given the nature of the division. But Tania, Silvia, and Maria should be a good support as you move into the role. We also have Juliana who is between here and the Milan office. So it isn't a complete boy's club."

Huh?

After years in fashion, one thing you definitely knew was that it often was not a "boy's club". Sure, all the suits and big investors were often old and withered men, but most of the creative side of the business had been run by almost fully female teams (and the exceedingly rare stylish man).

"I'm sorry, the nature of the team? What do you mean?" You asked, trying to keep smiling while running after her towards a more and more barren part of the office.

"Sorry, was it not included in your offer letter? You're working in our athletics division. We are horribly understaffed in that department, especially now that we have taken on all the Adidas athletes in Spain. My word there are a lot of them. Bellingham alone needs three team members for every event."

No no no no no. This cannot be happening. You had come in prepared to style a lot of things: prom dresses, lingerie, even the scraps of fabrics that were rented out by the local burlesque show. But sports???

Now don't get it twisted, this isn't some "I'm a girl and I don't know anything about sports!" kind of thing. On the contrary. You were at every football game rocking the longhorns, cheering on your friends as they crushed it at basketball, and even tried watching a formula 1 race (there was a three car crash and you fainted) - you were totally hip with sports. Although you were not a fan of stretch materials or athleisure, you were willing to bite the bullet as a first step. The issue was the hidden undertones of your job. It was the fact that you would be working with, from what you could surmise, a lot of male athletes.

Bryce was right - it did feel like you had ten billion friends back home. Everywhere you went, you spoke to strangers with ease, and people warmed quickly, conversation flowing and bonds forming. But that's the issue: everyone seemed to warm to you, and so it meant a lot of male attention. And despite your best efforts, you always made a "too flirty" comment to someone's crush or "inappropriately smiling" at someone's boyfriend. And so as fast as they liked you, suddenly you were public enemy #1, and the drama became all-consuming.

No one seemed to understand. There was constant advice to just brush it off, to ignore the people who brought pain to your life. But you couldn't help it, laying in bed, stomach in knots, questioning why no one could see that you were just trying to be kind to everyone around you. The cycle of worrying had created a very isolating experience.

"Tania! Where are the other girls? I want to introduce you to the newest member of the team."

A girl with blown out black hair turns around, double nose piercings taking a back seat to a piercing charcoal stare. She was in high waisted jeans and a leopard print button up, the first two unbuttoned to show off the black strap of her bra. Her neck was adorned with a simple gold cross necklace, and she flashed a cordial smile as she stuck out a hand.

"I love your shoes." You said sweetly as you exchanged a shake, eager to make your first friend at work (and maybe in all of Spain).

"Oh, thank you. Dolce and Gabanna - they're friends of the firm. Your shoes are..." She gave a glance to the cowboy boots you had on, "muy naranja" (very orange).

You crossed your legs, self confidence waning after she addressed you like you had traffic cones on your legs. You were introduced to Silvia (a tall girl with short blonde hair and vintage Adidas Sambas paired with boxer shorts) and Maria (dark blue hair slicked back to show off her Italian football jersey). All of them oozed the coolest essence, and you were excited to get to know them.

"Alright, girls, not too much chattering. Barca arrives in 15 minutes, and there is not a single jersey in sight. Lets go! Rápidamente!"

A gasp spread across the room, accompanied with a groan from Roberto in the back, and there was suddenly a mad dash. Stretch fabrics in a hundred different colors were flying across the room, and it seemed like no one could move fast enough.

"I'm sorry to ask but... what is a barca?"

Silvia's sambas squeaked loudly as she came to a halt, whipping her neck towards you. Her eyebrows knitted together, looking at you like you had just said Jesus was a goat.

"Who is Barca? You cannot be serious. Please don't say anything like that when they walk in the door. Just stand out of the way and do some googling. We will fill you in when the team leaves."

You stepped back towards the mannequins, trying not get trampled by the other employees. A quick search on Instagram gave you the basics. Soccer (or well, football now) team that was super famous. SDF was tagged in their post from their TV series premier, so you came to the conclusion that they were long time clients. You were so consumed with your search that you didn't notice the gaggle of young men enter the constricted space until you heard a chorus of voices chant "Bon Dia, Pedri!"

You glance up, trying to see the man that the girls were addressing, but he was covered by a crowd, which was comprised of Tania, Silvia, and girls from the other departments of the building (you could have sworn that red head worked at the café in the lobby).

"Bon dia, ladies."

The giggles that came as response were far too exaggerated for just politeness, and before you could roll your eyes, you heard the gag from beside you and turned to who was ultimately Maria.

"Don't mind the girls. They aren't usually like this, but their brain turns to mush around the magician."

"The magician?"

Almost as if planned, the swarm of girls parted in that moment, a pair of sickly sweet molasses eyes meeting yours, holding your gaze in something that felt warm and almost intimate. His stubbled cheeks spread into an infectious smile, and suddenly a gorgeous man in a hideous pair of jeans was giving you a subtle wave across the room.

"Pedri "The Magician" Gonzalez, current reigning golden boy at FC Barcelona. Who knew God could pack so much talent and trouble into such a small package? Anyways, the other girls in the office are obsessed with him. They all think they're going to be the special little snowflake to pull him away from the line of Instagram models waiting to jump in bed."

As you listened intently to Maria's rant about the sports star, the two of you couldn't keep your eyes away. As Tania and Silvia went back and forth, talking his brain into oatmeal, he couldn't stop himself from asking, "Who is the new girl?"

~

Pedri Gonzalez was many things: a generational talent, a laid back 20 year old, and (though less known) a shit-stirrer. These monthly team visits to SDF ranked very highly on his list of favorite activities. He was able to sit with his teammates as they watched some of the hottest girls in Europe fall over themselves just for a kind word or a prolonged glance. He just wished the boys would have seen the way they moved when he came in for personal sessions whenever there was a new Adidas campaign. Not even the king was served so wonderfully.

As the team bus parked outside the building, he lazily draped one arm over Gavi's shoulders, ripping his attention away from his phone screen.

"You know she does have a life outside of answering your texts, Gavi."

There was no attempt to hide or deny, just a continued scowl coupled with scrunched brows.

"She was really weird during the drive home the other day. After Martin was a little bitch on the field, she hasn't been the same. I think there's something wrong, but I don't want to push her away. I just want her to be happy."

"Ay, you'll have lots of time to make her happy after you confess your undying love in her passenger seat and kill her boyfriend." Pedri quipped back, taking a few careful steps off the bus and rushing into the building, the squeals of his name from adoring fans fading into the background.

"Okay, maybe not the best idea I've ever had, but now you do have work with Adidas and Springfield and all the other brands that want a piece of Pedri Potter." The nickname earned Gavi a light smack on the back of the head. "So in the end, I did you a favor."

The boys make their way upstairs, greeted at the elevator by Pedri's fan club.

"Bon dia, ladies."

"Bon dia, Pedri. We missed you."

Gavi tried to tone down the look of confusion that painted his features, watching these two girls trail behind his teammate in a way that was anything but professional. But there was a natural air to Pedri that had women swooning whenever he uttered a sentence, so Gavi supposed this situation would be no different than the one he had seen before in the club, at the beach, in the grocery store - basically anywhere Pedri went. He said a silent thank you to the powers that be that their types were vastly different.

The girls vying for his attention were promptly shooed away, with only the two who were actually part of their styling team remaining. Pedri scanned the room, making a mental note of who he would be looking up on the SDF Instagram once he was done for the day. He was a humble young man, but he wasn't self depreciating. He knew the number of women that wanted him was rising into 6-figure range, and he was not one to deprive himself of a pleasure that wasn't closely regulated by the staff over at Camp Nou. He loved entertaining the occasional tryst with an influencer or model or bottle service girl - whoever caught his eye for the evening. The world was his field, and boy was he ready to sow.

His newest playthings were his regular stylists. Since he was going to be spending a lot more time at the firm, he decided to at least enjoy himself a little bit. He dropped casual compliments, noticed the changes they made to their appearance, let them talk his ears off about how well he did in the previous match. Whatever they wanted he would provide. Why not? He was young and single. If they were to delude themselves into thinking he was going to settle down and take a wife at this stage of his career, then really they had no one but themselves to blame.

Tania and Silvia were nothing if not wholly entertaining. They always bounced around the office together, blonde and black hair making them look like a salt and pepper shaker set. Today, they dedicated themselves to dressing Pedri in the vintage Barca jerseys that were being photographed, leaving the rest of the squad to be dealt with by Maria, Roberto, and the bright spot in the corner of the office that caught Pedri's eye.

"Who is the new girl?"

He knew the question was going to cause the bile to rise in the throats of the two girls in front of him, who were already milliseconds away from killing each other if it meant he would take the survivor to dinner. But there was something about the flash of color that had caught his eye, hair falling in front of a pretty face that was glued to a screen and trying to stay out of the way.

"What new girl?" The response came from Tania, the more jealous of the pair by a mile. Pedri had often caught her stalking his account, his brother's account, and the account of every girl DeuxMoi "spotted" him with during the international breaks.

"Her. In the corner. She's new, right? That's someone I would remember seeing." He raised his head to get a better look at her, taking in the tight shirt and bright colors, watching her jewelry sway along as Maria (his least favorite in the office by far) called her over to help dress the rest of the team. The girls whipped around, taking in the same view that Pedri was.

"La naranja?!" Tania asked, disgust evident in her louder-than-appropriate tone. At the use of what was quickly becoming your office nickname, you looked towards the sound of the commotion, seeing Pedri staring intently at you once again. And while the depth of his gaze threatened to ignite a warmth somewhere within your chest, it was Tania's furious expression that had your heart racing in fear. You hadn't even been at work for an hour - what could you have possible done to have invoked such a murderous glare?

"I didn't think foreign girls were your type." Silvia said, much calmer but tone still icy.

"Maybe I just like the color orange." He replied smoothly, whipping off his shirt to slip into the one from 1980 that he would be modeling for the Barca site. The sight of bare skin was enough to make his playthings forget their rage, being replaced by lustful stares and lingering touches as they "adjusted" the fabric over his pecs about 20 times over.

"I think orange is a hideous color on girls." Tania couldn't help but mutter and she fixed his collar, putting in a couple pins so it wouldn't move as he walked to the photographer.

"I think the ugliest color on a girl is jealousy green." Pedri's eyes met hers in a silent warning. She was officially nothing more than one of his stylists. He was a busy man, and the last thing he needed was for his distractions to become a new stressor. He was notorious for being quick to cut girls off for the most superficial reasons, and Tania was not eager to be one of those deprived of his affections. She smiled sweetly, biting the inside of her cheek.

"Oh, of course. Especially when there is obviously nothing to be jealous of. Go welcome her on her first day - if she can even understand a thing you're saying. I don't think the American school system teaches Canarian." She left Pedri in that moment, calling sweetly to Ferran to come get dressed.

"Ay, Gavi, I knew you were short, but they can't even find pants that fit you now?"

The sudden voice behind you made you jump, causing a yelp from Gavi, who had been stabbed with a stray pin due to your scare. Your head whipped around, meeting that same smile that was brighter up close.

"Perdon, Naranja. Didn't mean to startle you."

Your eyebrows came together, a small frown on your features.

"I don't know what Tania told you, but that's not my name."

"I didn't think it was, but it's quite fitting, don't you think? A cute nickname for a cute girl."

The complement caught you off guard, and your mouth dropped open, reply unable to form in your mind. Was he seriously flirting with you? After half the office just threw themselves at his feet?

"Thank you, but I would really prefer if you called me-"

"Your accent is strange. Where are you from?" Pedri cuts you off, giving you a once over and taking in your figure, focusing intently on the writing across your chest.

"Texas. Can't you read?" You asked, growing more annoyed by the minute. Maria would be back any second to grab the boy who you were hemming, now identified as Gavi. You weren't eager to be seen as a slacker on day damn one.

"Houston?" He asked, accent preventing him from getting the "S" in the word quite right. "My brother used to live there for a bit."

"San Antonio, actually. But I went to school in Austin." As desperately as you wanted to make a good impression on your first day, something inside your chest wanted to make a good impression on Pedri, who was listening intently to the mini tour of Texas you were giving him.

"Is that close to Dallas? We are meant to play a game there in the summer. Maybe you can come along, show me around your city." He punctuated his sentence with a wink. You wanted to speak, tell him that Austin was actually several hours from Dallas, San Antonio even further. But your heartbeat was in your ears, and you could do nothing but nod along.

Pedri was not much better off. He had spoken to some of the most gorgeous women in Europe, maybe even the world in his mere 22 years on the planet, but something about the way you looked at him while speaking, eyes locked onto his, made his heart race in a way that was foreign but not unenjoyable.

"Hey! Hurry up - they need Gavi next. Or are you incapable of putting in a couple pins?" It was Silvia barking down at you, causing you to tear your gaze away from Pedri and back to Gavi's leg. Thankfully, the boy was typing away and didn't notice the break you had taken to chat with his teammate. "Pedri, stop distracting la naranja with your flirting and go get a pair of shoes from Maria."

You burned with embarrassment, the nickname turning from something affectionate to something sour, used to remind you of your outsider status as 'Cinderella' was reminded of her place by the coals.

"I was just being friendly." Pedri said, standing to follow her instructions.

"I think you have enough friends in the office." She bites back, shoving him lightly towards the wall of sneakers.

Your cheeks burn, embarrassment causing your hands to tremble as you continue hemming the trousers in front of you. Maria had gone out of her way to warn you that Pedri was off limits, and yet here you were again: persona non grata with your coworkers because some boy had taken an interest in you.

"You speak really good Spanish for someone from America." A quiet voice said from above you. Looking up, Gavi was gazing down at you, distracted by his phone every few seconds.

"I'm half Mexican, and most people in Texas speak Spanish anyways." You reply, trying to tone down the annoyance in your tone.

"Oh, I didn't know that. My friend- eh, physiotherapist also studied in America. She has this really cute accent when she says some of her words now." You watched his eyes glaze over in a way they probably shouldn't if he was just talking about his doctor.

"You don't have to make conversation with me, you know." You mutter back, scared that maybe this player was Maria's and you would sever the final connection you had left in the office inadvertently.

"Oh. I didn't mean to annoy you." The tone in his voice and his crestfallen expression made you feel like you had just kicked a puppy.

"Oh no! You're not. I just... It seems like I just pissed off the girls by talking to Pedri, and I don't want to make any other mistakes."

He laughed, eyes crinkling and head tilting back. "Pedri is a special case. When you flirt with everything that moves, someone is bound to be upset eventually."

The admission caused a pit to form in your stomach. Everything that moves? The romantic heat you felt earlier cooled into a slimy, sickening emotion. What kind of person toyed with people's feelings for fun? As you entertained the thought, you tapped Gavi on the leg, instructing him to hop off the stand and go get photographed. A shadow loomed over your form as you tidied pins from the floor of the workroom.

"So, I believe you were about to give me your address before we were so rudely interrupted." It was Pedri, returning with a grin, standing coolly with his hands in the pockets of his cargos. "Of if that's too personal, I'll settle for a phone number. Or an Instagram handle - I'm not picky."

"I can tell." You muttered back, unease still sitting in your chest. You avoided his gaze, chewing nervously on your bottom lip and directing your eyes to anything but Pedri.

"I'm sorry about Silvia. She can be... intense. And let me just go ahead and apologize for Tania as well, in advance. They're weirdly possessive over me for some reason." Pedri sounded sincere, eyes doing their best to catch yours and convey his message.

"Don't worry about it. I can see why you're so popular." You shuffled to collect stray pins off the floor. Pedri was not like any other guy you had ever been attracted to. Usually they were tall, lanky frat boy types, all blue eyes and khaki shorts. But the combination of beautiful brown eyes brushed by dark hair, chiseled jaw and plump lips, and strong arms that lifted a mannequin out of your way did weird things to your heart and your stomach.

"Can you now?" He was smirking. You could practically hear it in his voice, the amusement dripping from every syllable. He was obviously completely unbothered by your clear signs of distress.

"Yeah. Every girl I ever knew wanted to be the sugar baby of an athlete. Watch out or you'll get your bank account drained." Despite your best efforts to come across as cutting and sharp, he laughed at the statement. A full head thrown back and hands on his belly type of laugh.

"It's been a long time since I've spoken to a girl as funny as you." His eyes held yours, and the look was so captivating you simply couldn't avert your gaze. In that moment, it was also lost on you that you had, in fact, only made one joke. You responded with a half smile and heat radiating from you.

"Hey listen, a couple of the boys and I are going out tonight. You should come with us."

The invitation started to knock some sense back into you. Out? As in out out? Back home, going out usually meant getting shit-faced and riding a mechanical bull. It wasn't the best look to pull up to work the following morning looking like death and smelling like tequila. You were already on the way to holding the record for the worst first day in history.

"I don't know... I think Tania would put Nair in my shampoo if we were seen together when not contractually obligated."

You looked up shyly, and a part of you waited for him to insist, to feel somewhat special.

"Ah, I won't make you do anything you're uncomfortable with. Just DM me on Instagram if you change your mind. I'm not hard to find."

"Do you answer DMs from every girl that finds you?" You asked, rocking back and forth on your heels.

"No. But I'll be looking out for yours."

Another voice called out to Pedri, and he left you standing there slack-jawed. Who was this man? And what was so special about you to have piqued his interest? You asked these same questions of Bryce, who was now fully awake.

"Girl, the answer is obvious." She said through face time, words garbled by her teeth-brushing.

"Please don't say-"

"You're hot."

"That. Bryce, these girls in the office, they're stunners. 10s across the board. If he was going for looks, he wouldn't be going for me."

"I think you're over-thinking this whole thing. He just wants to talk to you for now," She paused to spit, "So talk! What's the worst that could happen?"

A shrill voice cried out 'Naranja!' and the trill of your new unwelcome work nickname was the signal that your lunch was over. You trudged back into the office, abandoning the warmth and sunshine for the cold front put up by Tania and Silvia. They bumped you every time they walked past, making comments about your clothing, your hair, the speed of your work, your taste level - everything. You stuck close to Maria, getting only two smug "I told you so's" before it was back to business. The boys left a disaster in their wake, with jerseys, trousers, socks, shoes, and all manners of accessories scattered about the workroom. Maria exchange stories of her childhood in Rome for your escapades in San Antonio and Austin, and the day passed with relative ease. Katerina click-clacks into the room an hour before your sweet release, huddling together everyone who worked with the team for a summary of what was accomplished.

"Great job team. I think Barca will be very happy with the photos, which will make me very happy. Now," Katerina handed out a series of files to everyone in the circle. "As some of you know, we have been fighting tooth and nail against Fordham Fashions for the new Adidas Rising Stars contract. Well, we have finally won! Here are the clients that we will be working with closely for individual Adidas campaigns, collaborations, and so on."

Opening the file, a familiar face grinned back from the first page.

"Everyone already knows Pedri, so we will move past him. Now, let us begin the style briefing for Bellingham..."

You stared for another moment at the bright grin on the page before turning it to take notes on everything Katerina was saying. The meeting wrapped 30 minutes later, with one final request from the boss.

"The new Predator boots have just come in from Adidas. We will be sending a pair to each of our athletes to allow them to adjust before we style and shoot in the coming weeks. And to avoid another, ehem, hair pulling incident, the new girl will be sending Pedri's. Sort the rest out among yourselves. See you tomorrow!"

The glares burned your skin before you even had the chance to process that the 'new girl' in question was you. Everyone scurried to the wall of blue shoe boxes as you looked over the brief again to find the man of the hour's shoe size. Pulling it out of the pile, you moved to a far corner of the workroom, but that did not seem to stop Tania from coming your way.

"So, you think Pedri likes you?"

The statement caught you off guard, hands slowing and your eyes widening at your coworker.

"Excuse me?"

"You think that now he's going to date you just because he laughed at one of your jokes? Because trust me, you're not his type."

You were prepared to rebut, tell her that she had completely misunderstood the situation, and you were just being nice to a client. But it died on your lips as the meaning of her words washed over you like an icy tidal wave, leaving you to pathetically whisper out,

"Why not?"

Her laugh trickled out lightly, delicate and beautiful and cutting all at once.

"Just look at you, Naranja. Anyways, this is a note from the agency that needs to be included in Pedri's box, so slip it in there, 'kay? See you tomorrow!"

Swallowing thickly, you didn't watch her walk away, staring at the table top to stop the flood of emotions that was clogging your throat. You knew you weren't ugly. Quite the opposite actually. It usually only took a coy glance and the bat of an eyelash for you to have people eating from the palm of your hand. But the self doubt started to eat away at you. What was wrong with the way you looked?

And then your eyes focused on the crisp white envelope on the table. The girly scrawl of Pedri was too... romantic to be a formal note. The green slime of jealousy seeped through every one of your veins. You took a quick look around the room, and finding no one, you carefully opened the envelope. Immediately a strong perfume assaulted your senses. The letter was a quick confession of love, and you couldn't help the increase in your heart rate. If your coworker was determined to hate you, then you should at least give her a reason.

Your childish antics came two fold. First, you tiptoed over to the cabinet with the stationary, grabbing a blank envelope and some corrector fluid. You carefully removed Tania's name from the bottom of the letter, writing in a little "S" with a heart beside it. You refolded the letter and placed it into the new perfume-less envelope. The letter found its home in the shoe box, and on your way out of the building, you dropped it off at the mail room. As you waited for your cab home, you typed five familiar letters into the Instagram search bar, and sent a message asking,

"Am I still invited out tonight?"

~

Pedri could not contain the Cheshire cat grin that lit up his face when he saw the DM from you. Scrolling quickly through your Instagram, he zoomed in on your pictures from the summer, swimsuits the same bright orange that had hugged your chest earlier that day. He responded quickly, telling you that you would be the highlight of the entire outing, and as he predicted, your phone number quickly followed.

"See, Gavi? I told you." He turned the screen to his teammate, who could not possibly be less interested. Being met with silence, he quickly snatched Gavi's phone from his hands, eliciting a protest.

"Gavi, this is an intervention. You need to stop this sad puppy behavior. After the sixth unanswered text, it's time to accept that she's not going to respond."

Pedri almost regretted it as soon as he said it, the sunken look painting Gavi's features being too much to bear. It was like taking a baby's favorite toy away.

"I just mean that she's probably busy, hermano. She'll respond when she can. Now, back to me."

Gavi rolled his eyes and leaned back against Pedri's couch. He displayed his most exasperated expression.

"Please, Pedri. Tell me again how you got a girl to swoon for you in a matter of minutes. It's always my favorite story."

Gavi barely missed the pillow chucked at his head, but pressed on anyways.

"Come on, Pedri. It's the same story every week. Find a cute girl, flirt, invite her out, sleep with her, and then block her on all your socials."

"Okay but this one is different. She's my first American."

Gavi gave him a look that told Pedri that maybe the joke should have been reserved for Ferran. Despite all the wisdom Pedri had imparted, Gavi hadn't listened. Instead of taking advantage of the swarm of women ready to show him heaven, he had gone and fallen in love with one of his coworkers. Sheesh. What a stupid idea. But he had never seen Gavi, or anyone really, care so much about a person. So he was being a good friend, just pretending that this love story wouldn't go down in flames (badum-tsss).

Pedri was not willing to be a hopeless lover boy. He killed himself on the pitch, and there was no way he wasn't going to enjoy life after the whistle blew.

"I just don't think it's an idea to start involving girls you're going to have to see again."

The statement cut straight through Pedri's daydream of what you would wear to the club that evening. Gavi may have been right. When messing with Instagram models, it was easy to avoid previous flings. A block online, a slip of their photo to Camp Nou security, and worst case scenario, when they came up to him at an event, he just put on his best confused face and asked, "Do I know you?"

But this was new territory. He had toyed around with Tania and Silvia for months now, but it never left the office. Inviting a girl who he would have to see again and again for work out was risky. But the risk-assessing brain cells were on vacation. All that was left were the party neurons, the ones that craved dopamine and finding out what your skin would feel like against his palms. So he pushed all of Gavi's valid objections into a dark corner of his brain. He opted instead to ask,

"So, are you coming out tonight as well?"

Gavi lifted his hoodie up to cover his face, using all his self control to not grab his phone from its place on the coffee table.

"I don't think so. I'm not in the mood to see Ferran or... anyone really. Just want to sit home and watch my show."

"Suit yourself then. I'll let you know how the night ends."

"I'm begging you not to."

~

You smoothed your hands over your dress one final time. You were pacing around your living room, eagerly waiting for Pedri to pick you up. Despite your best efforts to assure him that you could Uber yourself to the club, he refused, and you couldn't help the giddy feeling at the gentlemanly antics.

Staring at yourself in the mirror once again, you thought of the dates you had been on in your senior year of college. From darties on frat lawns to drive-thrus to fine dining, many guys had tried to win your favor. It wasn't that all of them sucked (even if the majority did). It was just that the guys back home in America were... boring. All of them were pretty self centered and shallow, nice to look at but nothing deeper. While a pretty boy was nice at 19, it was time to grow up and look for something more.

The buzzing of your phone knocked you out of the trance you were in. "Pedri from work" illuminated the screen as you rushed to answer.

"I was going to come in and knock on your door, but I can't get into your building."

You laughed lightly in response, apologizing about the door code while grabbing a jacket and heading downstairs. A low whistle greeted you, dark eyes tracing your figure with a look that you tried not to interpret for your own sanity. A shy smile played across your features as you allowed Pedri to open your car door, sweet talk you throughout the drive, and escort you in to what was more of a lounge than a club. Live musicians played just loud enough for ambiance, but not enough to completely drown out everyone chattering amongst themselves. The two of you walked up to a table of Greek Gods, which you assumed were his teammates.

Pedri introduced you to the group, making sure that his body was physically situated between you and Ferran. He was a good guy somewhere deep, deep down, buried under the anguish of his last girlfriend, who left him upon finding out about the pay reduction that came with moving from Manchester City to FCB. Pedri tried to stop him from taking out his rage on a coworker (and Gavi's crush), but he was hard headed and couldn't be swayed. Eventually he would calm down, and they could go back to being young and single and not bitter. Pedri's phone glowed with a notification from the boy on his mind.

[Gaviiii]: dude i foujd her outside my house just sitting in her car n cryng so im gonna take care of that

[Gaviiii]: dont tect me or call me im not gonna answer

The typos were normal, as it was hard for Gavi to avert his eyes for even one second when his most precious was in sight. Pedri shook off the text and turned his attention back to you, arm coming to rest around your waist in what was meant to be a comforting gesture.

You were not comforted. On the contrary, you were on the verge of throwing up. You were one of only two girls in a circle of incredibly attractive men, the other being someone's wife. You couldn't remember the names of any of them, except for Ferran, who you had been specifically warned about on the drive over. The devil really is a charmer. His short cropped hair showed the angels of his face beautifully, long lashes fanning against his cheeks. A few tattoos peaked out from under rolled up sleeved, and you had to remember that you were with his friend on a... what was this exactly? Pedri had never said anything more than that he wanted to be friends. But he asked you to go out with him, picked you up, gave you the pre-date compliments, and now was shielding you from other men. Were you on a date?

You tried your best to participate in small talk, listening to them go back and forth about football and training and life in general. The various accent were not kind to your brain that was barely used to the Canarian lilt to Pedri's speech.

"Are you okay?"

The whisper came softly in your ear, hot breath against you skin causing an eruption of little bumps. Pedri's arm had not left your waist, but now he was rubbing delicate circles into your skin.

"I'm fine. Just... a little overwhelmed? I feel sort of out of place."

"Don't worry, linda. No one can take their eyes off you."

The affirmation only increased your heart rate once again, the thump against your chest beating in rhythm with the base from the speakers. You were acutely aware of the warmth of his palm against your skin, radiating through the fabric of your dress. You loosened up as the evening progressed, participating in the conversation more confidently and laughing more freely. Slowly, the boys excused themselves from the gathering one by one, and soon it was only you and Pedri in the low light, talking about the most beautiful scenery you have ever seen.

He was lost in describing his home island, the clear waters and lush foliage that he called home. You leaned forward, enraptured by the passion that he spoke with about the places and people he loved. Slowly, you found yourself getting closer and closer, until there was only a few inches of space between you. The gold flecks interspersed in dark brown became clearer, and you struggled to breathe as you watched Pedri's gaze drift to your lips.

"I am getting the impression you want me to kiss you. Please correct me if that's not the case." Pedri breathed out slowly, more strained than you had previously thought. You don't know what you were thinking. Maybe you weren't thinking. You just acted on what felt right. Closing the distance, you joined Pedri's lips to yours, arms around his neck as you kissed with a hunger borderline inappropriate for the public.

You weren't usually this person. It was usually a couple dates before you would allow for a goodnight kiss, let alone the almost make-out you were currently engaged in. You pulled away from Pedri, the heavy breathing a commonality between the two of you. Maybe it was the being in Spain. Maybe it was that he was hot and young and famous. Maybe it was that of all the girls throwing themselves at him, including your coworkers, he picked you after an hour of conversation. Something told you to take a chance on what could be your love at first sight moment. So when Pedri leaned close and asked,

"Do you want to go back to your place?"

There was no answer but yes.

~

The following morning was filled with bliss. Pedri had woken up just as the first rays of sunlight were painting the stone. He kissed you on the cheek, whispering something akin to "see you around" before he left to training. You floated through your morning, making a coffee in a daze and dressing with a permanent smile. Bryce was still fast asleep, so you left her about 30 minutes worth of voice messages before you had the guts to step out and hail your own cab to work.

You walked into the office still riding the high from the night before. Your skin was ablaze, and every time you thought of the "activities", heat spread through you rapidly. Luckily the November chill kept you from sweating through your bones. Your bliss lasted for most of the morning, as you worked with Maria and a couple of people you had never met to create a mood board for an upcoming photoshoot. As you flipped through paint swatches, a piercing scream split the air, causing you to drop to the ground and cover your head.

"Why are you on the floor, Naranja?"

One of the boys looked at you with raised eyebrows, and a part of your brain registered that your new work nickname had trickled into other departments.

"Oh, sorry. I went to high school in America. Screams like that meant someone was getting jumped. Or shot."

Another scream rippled through the hallway as Maria helped you up.

"That was Silvia. Given recent history, your prediction about her being attacked might be correct."

The both of you scurried down the hall, the clicks of the other department workers followed behind you, eager for the newest and juiciest chisme. The sight before you made you stop dead in your tracks. Roberto was holding Tania by the waist, apparently the only thing that was keeping her away from Silvia, who was on the other side of the room crying and grabbing her head. There was a trail of silver thread between the two hysterical women. No, not thread - hair.

"She cut my hair! She came up behind me and cut my hair!"

"She's a traitor and, more importantly, a whore! I should've slit her throat."

Katerina had finished ushering everyone who didn't work there out of the room, and now she was standing in the middle of the room ready to mediate.

"You two have 5 minutes to explain what the hell happened and why I shouldn't fire you."

Tania had calmed, no longer straining against an iron grip and gaze filled with slightly less murderous intent. She released the clump of hair that she had in her hand onto the floor, revealing the absolute carnage that had taken place. Safe to say Silvia was going to be rocking a pixie cut for the next few weeks. Both of the girls remained silent. The prisoner's dilemma in real time. Katerina clicked her tongue after the moment of silence and simply said, "Roberto."

You could swear you saw a smile on his face briefly before he cleared his throat and began.

"Tania gave the new girl a note with her phone number in it to send to Pedri. Pedri texts the phone number, but instead of addressing it correctly, he says-"

"HEY SILVIA. THIS MORNING HE TEXTS MY NUMBER WITH HER NAME." Tania's outburst had everyone stand up, fearing that she was going to lunge. She remained in place, but no one sat back down.

"So you decided to attack her because he can't tell you two apart?"

"She must have done something to my note. She-"

"No." Katerina interrupted. "I have hear enough. Both of you are no longer working on any project Pedro Gonzalez is involved in."

Protests came from both of the girls, suddenly sullen and docile. They began to plead to be punished with anything else, but not exile from their favorite footballer. As they whimpered to your boss, who reminded them they were lucky to still be employed, it dawned on you. This morning. He texted who he thought was Silvia this morning. In response to a flirty message. After he left your bed. Maybe before he had even left the apartment.

There it was again. The nausea. The urge to projectile vomit. All because of Pedro Gonzalez. Fuck a nickname. He was a rich fuckboy that had played you like a fiddle. You held the tears back as you went back to fabric swatches, taking a moment to block him on Instagram.

"So, how does it feel to be Pedri's personal stylist now?" Katerina startled you, and the shock caused a delay in processing what she had just said.

"His what?"

"Well, now that those two are not allowed to be within 50 meters of him, it's only you and Maria working the Adidas contract. Especially now that Roberto is part of the Olympics team. So you get Pedri, and she gets Bellingham. Perfect, no?"

You nodded, swallowing hard to push the bile back down. This very unfortunate one night stand maybe have been the worst idea you have ever had. You walked through the rest of the day with disgust and rage flowing through you. You decided to brave the cold of the November afternoon and walk home, stopping by a bakery to get something with chocolate to keep the tidal wave of intense depression at bay.

How could this be happening? You weren't this girl. You weren't someone who let yourself be gullible and played. Hell, you had gone the last four years with all of Texas and parts of Mexico vying for your affection. But this little Spanish boy took advantage of the connection you felt, and he had barely left your bed before starting to text your coworker. Your phone buzzed with several messages in rapid succession.

[Pedro Gonzalez]: My agent just told me you were my own personal stylist

[Pedro Gonzalez]: that's good to hear.

[Pedro Gonzalez]: At least I'll have a friend at all these long and boring photoshoots

No mention of the night before. No "I had a good time". No question about your wellbeing. Nothing except his own self interest. How the situation would be good for him. Again. You felt awful as you pushed a teenage boy out of the way, barely making it into the bathroom before throwing your guts up. What the hell. How did you manage to fuck up so poorly so quickly? It was day damn one. And now you were throwing up in a bakery bathroom in Spain because of a man that's 5'9". You sat at a table, cake and coffee cooling in front of you. You didn't trust your legs or your stomach just yet, so you decided to type out a response instead.

Pedri was in overall low spirits. His injury had had another flare up, causing him to limp to the locker room. The email from his agent brightened his day, as he saw your name in the email. He shot a quick text your way, excited at the prospect of seeing you again, only to sour at the response.

[Naranja]: dont speak to me pedro

[Naranja]: we are not friends

[Naranja]: and we never will be

[You can no longer send messages to this user]

~~~

A/N: Here it is! The first part of the new series! Just some preemptive answers: I don't know what my posting schedule will look like and idk how many parts it's going to be. I hope you enjoy this first part. It might be a little rushed because I just wanted to set up the main story. Please let me know your thoughts in comments and asks! I'll try to reply to as many as I can. I love you all <3

Palestine: I will try to donate $1 for every comment that has a watermelon or an olive in it. I will keep y'all updated with how it goes.

Here are some more links to please please please look at while you're here.

Care for Gaza: an org that has been getting help and aid to people on the ground -> https://www.gofundme.com/f/careforgaza

Daily click that donates money to help Palestinians -> https://arab.org/click-to-help/palestine/

[astroamorsworld]

Part of Fortune in the houses part 1

This is something a little different from what I usually post and I wanted to just try something new and also go down the route of lots and asteroids eventually. So, with that being said, I hope you enjoy!

What is Part of Fortune?

The part of fortune, also called the Lot of Fortune or Pars Fortuna, is a calculated point on your birth chart that reflects areas where you might find luck and success.

Part of Fortune in the 1st house

Having your Part of Fortune in the 1st house is a pretty lucky placement to have imo. You may be a naturally lucky person, and are just always in good mood, stemming from having a lot of confidence within yourself and high self esteem. These traits, on top of being naturally lucky, will attract even more good luck and opportunities your way, so you’re most definitely blessed with this placement. This placement may indicate that you have a lot of determination and willpower when it comes to getting things done, so you’re definitely a hard worker too. Your personality shines through in your everyday life so in work fields that rely on you having a vibrant personality would really work best for natives with this placement. If you want to really get the most out of this placement, i’d say you need to take initiative and persue your dreams!! If you put yourself out there you will get what you want!! (As someone with this placement, I need really take my own advice🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️)

Part of Fortune in the 2nd house

With this placement you may too, have high esteem. You may also tend to attract or create material abundance. You might find that your talents and skills translate well into financial security and that you have a good eye for things of value or things that can become valuable. This placement could also give you the ability to thrive in careers that involve finances, like accounting, investing, or sales, could be particularly fortunate for you. Success can also find you in fields utilise your creativity and resourcefulness, like entrepreneurship, crafts, or the arts. So in terms of getting the most out of this placement, i’d say develop your talents and show people your worth. Dont let them take advantage of it though. Take risks and use what resources you have wisely.

Part of Fortune in the 3rd house

With this placement, it’s possible that you have lucky siblings, cousins and even neighbours, or when you’re around them you become luckier. You’re also likely to have good relationships them too. Your education experience may have been one to remember, as you may have had a good experience there. You may be naturally smart, and find it easy to retain information, so school may have been a breeze for you. School trips may have been fun and better for you than the average ones. You are probably a good communicator, and know how to communicate in a healthy way. So this could mean that you excel in public speaking, teaching and writing. Short trips may be good for you also. So if you wanna get the most out of this placement, USE YOUR VOICE and maintain the relationships (i mentioned before) with those around you.

Part of Fortune in the 4th house

With this placement, you’re likely to have a good relationship with your mother, and with your family. Just a good home life in general. You may be in tune with your family background and culture, and take a real interest in your roots. It’s also a possibility that you may have been born into some sort of wealth, whether its from your entire family, or on your mothers side or your dads side, the point being that someone you’re related to is likely to be wealthy. You are also probably in tune with your emotions and feelings and know how to manage them quite well. Most definitely emotionally mature. You may also be a bit of a homebody, since you may love your home so much. Interior design or gardening may be hobbies or careers you want to persue. You could also excel in social care, therapy, or childcare. Working from home is where you probably do your best work. So if you want to get the most out of this placement, invest in your home and nurture your relationship with your family. Get in touch with your roots!!

I would’ve done this all as one big post but i’ve had to split it into 3 parts because i’ve had issues with saving my work to drafts and don’t want to risk losing 1 big piece of work. But i will post part 2 and 3 in the coming days. :)

Check out my pinned post for more observations!💖

If you enjoy my content and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee here :)

If you would like a reading, you can DM me or order one through my fiverr page here or my ko-fi page here.

Next part

[callme-dreamer-callme-pearl]

Indicators that you are lucky✨️

Natal chart edition-

(Disclaimer- luck is subjective)

Well aspected/ strong Jupiter, for e.g: Jupiter conjunct sun, Jupiter conjunct MC/Asc, in 9h/1h/7h/8h Fama(408) conjunct Asc/Moon/MC/Sun/Venus- brings fame Fortuna(19) conjunction personal planets/in angular house Part of fortune conjunct sun/MC, in 5h,10h/1h - they are fortunate, especially in terms of career and opportunities, probably quite charming either physically or personality wise Venus in 1H/2H/10 - likeable and generally from affluent family(unless afflicted) Mars conjunct Venus- got the social charm and appeal Sun in 1h/5h/7h/10h - their personality shines Uranus aspecting fortuna(19) or Jupiter (sometimes venus)- unexpected or sudden fortune (Unpopular opinion) Pluto in 1h/7h/10h- they are resourceful thus,powerful Sagittarius rising/Mc - ruled by Jupiter yk Honorable mentions: sun trine moon, mercury conjunct venus, vertex conjunct personal planets,sun sextile Mc,Mars sextile Saturn, venus trine Jupiter, venus/jupiter in 11H, venus in Pisces. (Overall chart should be considered) But Don't forget that : 💚If you have a good enough house to live in you are luckier than 1.6 billion people 💚Or food in your fridge, then you are luckier than three hundred thirty three million people 💚Or if you have access to education, you are luckier than Two hundred forty four million people 💚And if you got all the three, damn how lucky you are to be you! Good day🤍

[killl-ka]

**************’ -Pay the price- ‘**************

(click on image for better quality!!)I really liked shot up close to Fortuna, when we only saw her on screen small, like everyone else. It kind of made us in touch with situation on hand: we can’t say no to paying the price despite how both parties were saddened by that. Oh and relationship with Abramar being strained after that is a nice touch, realistic, even if we promised to him there will be no hatred after that (I choose “found family” trope with him)

[giveamadeuschohisownmovie]

One thing I’ve grown to appreciate about the “Red Dead Redemption” series now that I’m older is that you can tell Rockstar approached this project as an anti-western. It lures you in with the promise of Wild West, yeehaw goodness, but when you actually play the games, you get hit with the brutal reality of this world.

Examples of what I mean:

1) The Mexican Revolution arc isn’t romanticized. At first, you think it’s a simple tale of the evil fascist government fighting against the heroic rebellion. But then you meet the rebel leader and he turns out to be just as bad as the government. It’s a true “both sides are in the wrong” situation and, unfortunately, the ones who truly suffer are the peasants (such as Luisa Fortuna).

2) Frontier life isn’t just shooting and action. It was also watching over animals, building farms and ranches, and trading with towns. The games really make you feel the monotony of doing chores and yard work, especially when John was in his Jim Milton phase.

3) Outlaw life isn’t romanticized either. Although you start off as a happy family, it eventually devolved into backstabbing, despair, and self-destruction. Even before then, your group aren’t the greatest of people, especially with the whole robbing people at gunpoint and shooting up towns.

4) Good guys don’t always get a happy ending. Also, every action has a consequence. John Marston had to learn that the hard way.

5) The racism. I feel like a lot of Western-themed media tries to skirt around this issue, or even avoid the topic (such as the 2016 remake of Magnificent Seven, which had a diverse group of fighters). Red Dead doesn’t pull back its punches. You have the Ivy League professor who treated Native Americans as subjects for his racist research. Abraham Reyes straight up calls Chinese people an inferior race. Then there’s the Blackwater short film playfully talking about the massacre of Native American tribes.

6) Along the same lines as point 5, the sexism. For example, there was the propaganda short film about opposing the women’s suffrage movement. And, of course, Sadie Adler not wanting to be relegated to cooking for the group since she can shoot.

7) This is more for RDR2. You actually have to pay attention to the maintenance of the horses and the guns. I’ve never seen this in a Wild West movie/TV show, and yet it’s integral to someone whose life revolves around horseback riding and shooting people!

8) Not skirting around the issue of disease, especially when healthcare wasn’t as advanced as it is nowadays. You can see that especially with Arthur and Abigail.

[ariiadnes]

ㅤ╭ ⿻ ･ FORTUNA

YOU ONCE TOLD ME THAT OUR FATES WERE DECIDED BEFORE BIRTH -- BOTH YOURS & MINE ALIKE.

-ˋ ♡ ◞ jonathan ･ joseph ( pt. ii ) ･ jotaro ( pt. vi ) ･ josuke ･ giorno ･ jolyne. jojo's bizarre adventure. quote cr : house of fata morgana. jacqui germain. blythe baird. linda hogan. natalie wee. pathologic. giorno & josuke's parts are strictly platonic! repost.

BUT YOU ARE BOUND BY BLOOD, YOUR FATE A TWIST & TURN ON THE ROAD TO TRAGEDY AND BLOODSHED.

WILL YOU SURVIVE THIS , WHAT CANNOT BE CHANGED?

*ੈ ✩ ‧₊˚ jonathan

❝ because the world is so full of death and horror , i try again and again to console my heart and pick the flowers that grow in the midst of hell. ❞

HOW INNOCENCE LONGS FOR THE DIAMOND DAYS, fragile youth and a brave new world turned upside down in the blink of an eye. how cruel he is, this stranger birthed from love and scorn and made of vengeance, to tear everything & everyone jonathan has ever loved away.

and it hurts ; it hurts to witness the brightness in a kind soul dwindle, decay ; a flame that flickers, suffocates, extinguishes itself until it is nothing but smoke -- a haze, a remnant, losing a fight that seemingly cannot be won. it hurts to recognize the defeat that drowns under waves of sorrow, buried at sea beneath the weight of hatred, and it hurts to know that he must endure something that should never be endured.

( this world is not meant for evils, but dearest, how they will haunt you so. )

"jonathan," his name leaves your lips in an act of mourning, fingers and voice trembling so violently as you welcome him into your arms, "crying is not a weakness. there's no need to hide it."

oh, how he misses the diamond days so deeply, days of laughter and cherished memories gone missing, replaced with a creeping dread and fear of the future and what-ifs.

"you can do this, you know. if anyone can, it's you."

he smiles, exhausted, leans into your touch as you wipe the tears away. there is a gentle shift of the soul, a waning determination that reignites and flourishes in the trials of resolve as he speaks.

"you have always managed to put my heart at ease. with you by my side, i know i will always have the courage to face tomorrow."

( & THEY WILL CALL IT FATE, THE BEGINNING OF THIS CURSE. but they do not know the blood he will share is made of justice and righteousness, and how beautiful it will be, their survival. )

*ੈ ✩ ‧₊˚ joseph

❝ YOU HAVE SURVIVED SO MUCH THAT NO ONE REMEMBERS. ❞

BUT SUFFERING IS NEVER MEANT TO BE QUIET, SUCH LIVELINESS OVERSHADOWING ALL HE HAS ENDURED. many would not believe it, the endeavors joseph has faced : a reckless man shielded from the fight his ancestors carried and protected him from, the light in his blood turned to power and destruction meant for greater things.

he was not supposed to know about any of it-- the story of his grandfather, the disappearance and reappearance of his mother, the death of his father-- but heroes are never meant for joyful stories, and so he follows the tales of tragedy.

how do you win against someone who cannot be defeated? joseph is a fighter at heart, resilience and sharp wit never fleeting even in times of crisis. even then, to take on a battle against figures that have revitalize themselves, hunting for an everlasting, all knowing power--

he sighs loudly, dramatic and half genuine as he rests his forehead on your shoulder. you ruffle his hair, rewarded with yet another exaggerated sigh.

"what's the plan, jojo?"

he doesn't know. he's pondered this as well, spent many sleepless nights thinking about all the possibilities. there's too much on the line : his family, his friends, the world. he wonders if this is the same feeling his grandfather once experienced, such helplessness against a pure evil.

"the plan is..." his body tenses as he straightens his posture, looking you straight in the eye, "to run away!"

and he turns on his heel, thinks to dart away, but you catch him by the wrist, tug him in your direction. he offers a sheepish grin, one you can only raise a brow in response to, and soon enough, a grim expression surfaces on his visage.

"i don't have a plan. i've got to think it over, figure out a way to keep everyone safe."

you are not used to seeing joseph without a smile. something in your chest aches, but you do not show it. instead, you gesture him closer, ignore the confusion on his face when you wrap your arms around his neck, run your fingers through his hair again. his body relaxes, comfort found in your existence, and soon enough, he returns the hug.

"i should always be sad. you're much nicer this way."

"jojo."

"er-- i mean, thank you."

*ੈ ✩ ‧₊˚ jotaro

❝ how do i stop carrying everything that has ever happened to me? ❞

HOW MISERABLE IT IS, THIS CURSE THAT EMBEDS ITSELF INTO ONE'S VEINS. how cruelly he was doomed from the start, adolescence stolen as he traveled to the ends of the earth to save someone he loved, only to lose another and another and another until the dreams twisted into nightmares. how brutal the pain was, haunting in the echoes of survivor's guilt.

and how this cycle will repeat, ENDLESS, RUTHLESS -- jotaro knows this, and so he tears his heart out, shatters it into a million pieces, because it is better his than anyone else's.

this is all he knows of survival now : the destruction of oneself for the sake of everyone he cares for.

because living means protecting, jotaro has decided, and he will do everything he can to prevent the hurt from spreading. the curse he carries is his and his alone, and how desperate he is to stop it from affecting you and jolyne. so he pushes you away, tries to keep you at bay despite the thread that keeps you together.

because how horribly selfish he has been already-- to fall in love, start a family, all while knowing that he was never meant for happy endings.

"come back to shore, love." you chide, words as gentle as the smile on your lips. you adjust his hat, a habit you have always done all these years, before your hands slide down, cupping his face in quiet reverence. "you're drifting again, jotaro."

he swallows hard, feels the pull of fraying heartstrings. he wants to be with you, wants to be happy, live a peaceful life, but the past is catching up and he cannot let it. time and gravity are harsh beings, the ebb and flow of fate so strong in the will of good and evil.

how can he fight fate? he has already been through enough, defeated the world once already. how can he do this again? how long until his heart expires, worn from playing the role of atlas?

"come back to me." you whisper ; the smile turns into one of sorrowful loneliness, one he understands far too well, and he cannot help but oblige.

gingerly, he places his hands over yours, feels the weight of the world disappear in this moment of vulnerability.

"i'm here." he tells you, but even those few words are difficult to swallow. he wishes to tell you everything : the apologies never said, the worries never expressed, but you have always known, your heart the same as his.

"so stay." you feel his warmth, feel how he squeezes your hand in silent thanks. "we'll get our happy ending, jotaro. we're with you until the end, so please, stay."

*ੈ ✩ ‧₊˚ josuke

❝ watch and listen. you are the result of the love of thousands. ❞

BUT HOME SWEET HOME IS FILLED WITH MENACE UNKNOWN, AN EVIL LURKING IN THE DEPTHS OF PEACE. it's all he knows, higashikata josuke, the safety found in oblivion dissipated at the learned existence of his bloodline and origins.

it's not supposed to be this way-- a seemingly tranquil life that has always had an impending malice lingering beneath it all, the disappearance of those innocent gone entirely unnoticed for far too long. how terrible it is, the realization that your home has always been filled with horror.

it is no burden, the role of the protector, sword & shield alike, josuke will think ; he will ignore the pressure that sinks down on his chest, makes it hard to breathe. because he's supposed to be strong, supposed to carry on his grandpa's legacy of protecting this town. so he'll tell you he's fine, force the brightest grin he can manage, and he'll tell you that you shouldn't worry about him too much because that'll only make him worry about you.

it won't mean anything, won't offer any comfort. you'll see through it, see it all : the hardships he has suddenly been granted, the mourning he has not been able to process, and the idea of a family he has never known.

you pinch his cheek, watch as he half-heartedly swats your hand away.

"it's hard when you can heal everyone but yourself, huh? must get annoying."

he stares at you for a second too long, tears his eyes away before you can read him ( and it won't matter, you always manage to do, and that irritates him more than it should ).

"it's fine." he clears his throat loudly, absentmindedly wipes away the flower petals that land in his lap. "better me than everyone else, anyway. i'm not gonna complain about that."

you hum, wistful.

"it must be painful, right?"

josuke finds the courage to glance at you, freezes at the bittersweet smile that weaves itself onto your lips. you pat his back, ignore his incoherent complaints as you wrap an arm around his shoulder and pull him into a gentle hug. you do not know how long you both stay like that, a semblance of the peace you both are familiar with felt once again.

"yeah." josuke mumbles; you can hear the slight embarrassment in his voice. "it's painful."

"i know." you whisper, the town before you so quiet and filled with a hurtful deception of serenity. "i'm sorry, josuke."

*ੈ ✩ ‧₊˚ giorno

❝ WHAT WE MAKE OF LOSS IS A SPORT THAT KILLS US. ❞

& THE GOLD THAT LINES HIS EXISTENCE IS AN AFTERMATH OF TRAGEDY TURNED REDEMPTION, his heart ever so desolate and once despaired, innocence vanquished in the midst of childhood. how he was abandoned so, thrown to the wolves in a world he could not even begin to understand. he learned what found family meant, giorno giovanna, even in the distant gratitude from the one who protected him from the violence he would eventually learn and reenact.

he discovered his heart then, remnants pieced together by a brilliant gold : sinews tied together, the restoration of a humanity torn asunder, the relief of heartache of a boy wonder that spiraled onto the path of evils, now treading onto the path of righteousness and resolve.

his dream is not an easy one, nor is it one that is meant to be taken on alone. it is almost devastating, you think, fighting to right all the wrongs when you are only just learning what it means to live. no one is meant to lose everyone dear to you, and no one is meant to know the severity of such loss, but he will fall victim to such tragedies in the end, because fate knows best of all.

"giorno."

he does not hear you at first, brows furrowed in concentration as he focuses on healing your wounds. he loses himself in the task, decides the distraction will ease the guilt that gnaws and gnaws at his bones, dwindles the soul until it becomes a vestige of existence. the resolve wavers, its lungs desperate for revival.

"giorno."

he withdraws his hand, breaks from his trance. there is a semblance of panic that surfaces, but he is quick to compose himself, a hint of concern left behind.

"i'm sorry. is the pain too much?"

it does not hurt, it doesn't -- because how could anything hurt more than the suffering that resides in two hearts? you would give the world to carry the pain of your cuts and bruises instead of the pain of loss and grief.

who else will he lose? when will it be, this last moment he will share with you? he dare not lose sight of his goal, but the lines have blurred, vision distorted with the tears he doesn't allow himself to shed. this must be worth it. it will be worth it, the undoing of wickedness.

"it hurts, but it's alright." you feel a sharp pain in your chest, wonder if it is meant to be a sort of heartbreak.

apprehension surfaces on his countenance ; he knows you speak of a different kind of pain than the one that embeds itself in your body. giorno holds his breath when your gazes lock, and in your eyes there is only determination.

"you won't lose me. we'll make it through this together."

you will survive this, no matter what fate has determined as your end.

YOU WILL SURVIVE THIS. YOU HAVE TO.

*ੈ ✩ ‧₊˚ jolyne

❝ YOU'VE CHALLENGED HEAVEN. you're the reason for all that's happening now. ❞

OH, BUT HER BLOOD IS MEANT FOR DOOM & CATASTROPHE, THE ROAD TO JUSTICE ONE THAT ENDS IN CALAMITY AND HOPE REBORN, such fragile youth and a brave new world turned upside down in the blink of an eye. how cruel he is, this stranger birthed from innocence and callousness and made of violence, to bring judgement day to the world in guise of ascending the heavens.

the ocean blue is closer and farther than ever, the waves fleeting : how it approaches so quickly in a single moment, then disappears in the next-- unreachable, too far from her grasp.

it reminds her of something, of someone-- that distance, the coldness of the water. always around her, someway, somehow. it is strange, the fury that once ignited in her heart, seething rage lulled into something of loneliness and regret.

"told myself i was gonna see the other side of those prison bars." jolyne murmurs, gaze shifting from the waters to the stars.

something in her heart hurts.

it is very lonely, the sky and the earth, disconnected, meant for reunion.

"you made it." you watch as the sand falls through her fingers. "what does it feel like?"

she longs for her family, wishes to see them once more. it's not supposed to be this way -- torn from the comfort of her home, thrown into unfamiliarity and harshness, then saved by the one who now needs saving.

"like shit." she laughs, bitter, an aching smile on her lips. "i thought being free would be my happy ending." her fist clenches. "but it's not over yet-- not until i save him. until then, i have to keep going."

you gaze upon the stars, witness the moon's radiance and lament. your pulse quickens, something akin to fear wrapping itself around your chest, your ribs, and the hollows of the ground you stand upon. something tells you that the ending she seeks will not be the one either you expect. it will be cruel and unjust, but it will be okay in the end.

you keep to the sky, feel her hand grab yours in hope and solemness.

( BUT THEY WON'T CALL IT FATE, THE END OF THIS CURSE. and how beautiful it will be, their survival, their reawakening, their rebirth. )

[nthspecialll]

Women with too much love

Molly O'Shea and Luisa Fortuna are two girls whom I love with my entire heart the way their loves could not. Their stories paralell in the cruelest and saddest ways, proving that history in fact does repeat itself.

Molly O'Shea, a woman who gave up everything she had and was to live with a man who promised her adventure and love. She gave him everything, yet he gave her nothing. She was on the path to a regular life, a good life, but was charmed by a man with charisma and empty promises.

She writes of the loneliness he brings her even though he promised to love her, to dance with her and to hold her by his side. All of this, yet for nothing, he discarded her with no reguards for her safety and even when she had decided that death was the only way forwards, she still seeked him, she wanted his attention, she wanted to be seen.

"I loved you you goddamn bastard!"

Luisa Fortunia, a name with the meaning of luck, a nineteen year old school teacher turned revolutionary as war breaks out and she falls for the rebel leader. He promised to keep her safe, he promised to keep her family safe and to safe Mexico, but still, her father dies.

They were to marry, her and the revolutionary, yet he did not even know her name, he fucked around, claiming she was just another peasant whom it was his duty to bring his nobel blood to.

She saw her father's heart get cut out, fed to the pigs yet she still believed in him because he said he loved her, so as he is imprisoned, she dies attempting to free him, and even after that he does not know her name. Her death meant little to him, though I am glad she never did see his victory as he turned into the man they fought.

"I don't weep for myself, but for my country! Abraham Reyes has been captured!"