#situation is over now though i don't want to dwell on it too much but yeah

[dellovestorant]

if these people find it funny that george crashed in australia while he was in the middle of the track calling red flag ( only for fia not to call it red flag ) then i can only say these people didn't take anthione hubert's fatal accident seriously too.

Yeah driver safety should always be the first priority.

Now I've read the rules and a double yellow in that sector + VSC is essentially a red flag, they slow to the same pace. Stroll also had his engineer essentially panicking tell him to slow down.

But it's still the semantics of it all. They might slow down to the same rate but it tells a different story between how serious an incident is if a VSC is out vs a red flag

[hwnglx]

pick a pile - what makes you beautiful? (detailed)

hello dear reader! let's take a look into what makes you so uniquely beautiful. breathe slowly, take your time and use your intuition to go with the pile that speaks to you the most. this is a very specific reading, so it's likely that not every message will speak to everyone. remember to take what resonates, and leave what doesn't. 𓆩♡𓆪

✰ pile 1 ✰

so, this pile definitely gave me the biggest boss vibes. you have very strong energy, with so much major arcana in my spread. i can tell you are not someone to be messed with. (also kinda feel like you might parent or coddle the other piles lmao)

your beauty lies not only within your immense strength, but also in your ability to stand over situations which can appear very dark and difficult on the outside. i do believe you come with your own struggles, insecurities, doubts and fears which don't seem to always find their way to the surface; but you deal with them in such a graceful and impressive way. i can feel some people being in genuine awe of how you handle trials and tribulations. i do think you've been through certain things which have given you thicker skin. now, you know what you want and need in life, you're aware of your potential and what you can do, so even if a situation presents itself in which you find yourself in self-doubt, you believe in the power of hard work and consistency.

you don't seem like the type to dwell on your problems for too long or allow yourself to drown in self-pity, but moreso like a person who feels this desire to work on whatever troubles you. let's say if a situation presents itself to you, in which circumstances seem unfavourable; rather than complaining or remaining stuck in this hopeless place, you'll likely be the type to think about how you can change and work on your own attitude and mindset instead, in order to come out the other side in a stronger manner. you put a lot of importance into remaining confident and keeping a grip on your self-belief. since you see that as the best version of yourself. you appear to be very mature; even if your age is still young, you seem to have a wise soul and an impressingly reliable, as well as responsible nature. maybe you had to grow up quickly, you just give off this energy of someone who had to learn how to be responsible in life very early on.

considering i got both, the emperor and the empress for you, i think a lot of your beauty also lies in your duality. you're likely to have this balance of both feminine and masculine qualities inside of you. you seem to be the type of person who can be assertive, more self-centered and individualistic in some ways, like you do think it's important to focus on yourself in order to find fulfilment in this world. however this doesn't distinguish the compassionate heart you carry for other people. you're someone with an empathetic and kind nature, someone who wants to take care of the people you love.

you could make a very good parent, actually. i think you balance this sense of responsibility, dependability and solidity, with a nurturing heart, a soft and gentle core. you might be the case of someone with a hard shell but soft interior. i feel like you're the type to root for the underdog. someone who takes people under their wing, protects them from external influences. like you'd take a bullet for the people you cherish. (i do think you might be more selective in that aspect though, like you do have your boundaries straight, and wouldn't just throw your hand in the fire for anyone)

this is a random message i got; some of you also might be on the curvier side when it comes to your bodily built, and it makes you very very beautiful. like i can tell that some of pile 1's bodies are bangin! like yes sir or ma'am, go rock that bod with confidence!

another very beautiful thing about you; you do not fear getting your hands dirty. meaning, you're willing to put in the necessary hard work in life. like “if i have to personally run up this hill for several hours straight, then so be it, as long as i finally get to the top!” you aren't someone who will shy away from bearing burdens and heavy weights on your back, you understand the need to hustle in order to succeed. you can feel this need to improve yourself, put in the required effort to keep getting better at everything you do in life. not just for yourself, but also the people around you. you want to be a comfortable and stable figure in your loved one's lives.

i keep feeling like you're just this person people can lean on with no second thought; someone who will have their back no matter what. very loyal, dedicated and passionate energy within you. i'd personally love to be your friend, like i'd feel pretty lucky! i feel like you're the friend who keeps their promises, who's okay with running errands for others. you'd get things done for someone if they're unable to do so; like e.g. picking your friends up and driving them random places. maybe you're the friend at the party who holds themselves back from drinking in order to be the responsible one making sure everyone gets back home safely. you just seem to have this devotion to the ones you love, and wanting to make them feel safe, as well as cared for. you might also be a huge hype man in their lives, always cheering them on and lighting up any dark place they find themselves in. you have such bright and inspirational energy!

you carry this beautiful balance of; focusing on your own interests, ambitions, desires and goals, but also remaining considerate and caring towards the special people in your life.

✰ pile 2 ✰

oh my gawd, this pile is super cute. so, you immediately strike me as someone very independent and freedom-loving. you love to have your own space, and being able to just do whatever you want, whenever you want. i feel like you just have this very contagious and bright energy, where people might trust you to make the best out of every situation you're in. you seem like a big risk-taker, someone who doesn't fear the concept of change, and isn't afraid of starting all over again if you feel like that's necessary. you're so beautiful, in the way of just being down and ready to do things others might shy away from. you might be the person who will drag your friend out the dark and quiet room and tell them to get out, enjoy the beautiful sun on your skin, connect with mother nature, appreciate the smaller things in life and find happiness in them, because that's where true fulfilment lies. there is this very philosophical and poetic side to you. i keep feeling like you might have significant neptune/jupiter/mercury aspects.. i can just see you running through the blooming fields in this almost movie-like way. (random but do you like ghibli movies? you just give me ghibli character vibes, especially kiki's delivery service 🥹 i love that movie, it's so comforting)

you're beautiful in the way where.. you easily see beauty in the world. you seem so easily excitable, and count all the blessings you have in life. i feel like you're the type to find something positive in everything and everyone. random, but you might love photography, and taking pictures of almost everything around you, just because you can see art in anything or any place. you love exploring new places, new cultures, understanding and learning about people or things completely different to what you're used to. you might like to travel, because you enjoy this thought of getting insight into entirely new lifestyles. you're very open-minded.

you aren't worried about leaving toxic people or situations behind if you feel like they just keep you in a negative place. it's kinda giving been there done that. i think you consciously reject negativity now because you're not at that same place anymore, and especially don't want to be anymore. you're so overly protective of your peace now, because you had to deal with so many tribulations, and took so much on the chin from life in order to get to this place of inner peace. you don't allow anyone to take it away from you anymore.

you also don't seem afraid to completely transform. maybe you even enjoy transforming yourself physically, like you love reinventing yourself and can find your identity in things like your fashion. you enjoy expressing your unique nature in that way. i also just feel like you're such a pleasure to be around, people likely just enjoy your presence because it makes them feel like everything will be okay. did anyone ever tell you about how your presence is therapeutic to them? if not, some people might think that without openly expressing it.

i do think you can be very emotional too, which is another beautiful trait of yours. you might be the type to tear up rather easily, i think your interior is very squishy and sweet. you wear your heart on your sleeve in this beautiful and special way. you not being afraid to express your emotions (although sometimes they can just take over you unintentionally lmao dw i relate..) makes you so extraordinary, it gives you this unique light and glow. don't ever lose grip on this wonderful side of you. don't ever feel ashamed of it, and don't allow anyone to make you think you're anything but beautiful for your passion! i feel like you genuinely care about the world, and everything that it involves. your energy is just so pure and innocent in a way, even if you yourself don't see yourself that way. your intentions and heart read as very sweet.

in addition, your beauty lies in your ability to see opportunity of growth in whatever life throws at you. like pile 1, i do believe you have had to deal with your fair share of challenges in life, but this lead to you being able to see how.. even situations that might look awful from an outsiders perspective, can serve you as a learning lesson. “what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger.”

again, you're just so philosophical! i feel like we could just sit down together and discuss life for hours, in such a deep and intriguing manner. you seem to have a lot of understanding of the different complexities of life, just because you've experienced a lot of situations in which you had to adapt or adjust. so there's this natural know-how here, it's almost like you're not scared of life's upheavals anymore. you didn't let it discourage you at the time, so best believe it will not bring you down at this point in time. you're so youthful and almost childlike in spirit, but carry a deep sense of knowledge about life. like some other people might turn all bitter if they went through what you have been through, but you remained soft and sweet in this harsh world, which is such a beautiful trait to have! i sincerely applaud you, and hope you can never lose this truly wonderful spark inside of you.

✰ pile 3 ✰

oh, this pile seems so genuinely nice, but i can sense some struggle here too.. first of all, you read as a very humble and down to earth person. like i truly can't sense a single ounce of arrogance inside of you. you feel like you're an eternal student of life, continuously learning with every experience, and growing endlessly. you give off this energy of someone who's always so eager to expand your skills and knowledge on things. especially if you get hooked on something like a fun hobby, you're just so ambitious and approach the learning process with this modest, but determined attitude. you seem quite capable of dealing with constructive criticism, and take it as a way to further better yourself. like yes tell me what i did wrong, so i can improve. definitely a very hard-working and earnest energy within you.

you're so beautiful, because you live and lead with this sense of compassion and acceptance inside of you. you seem to have high emotional intelligence; as well as a lot of empathy for others. you're the type of person to.. hold this cup filled with love, in a crowd full of people fighting each other. while other people are overly competitive and at each other's throats to win over the other, you seem like the one who prefers seeing everyone as equally worthy of praise, equally lovable, equally deserving of respect. i truly don't see you enjoying to put yourself above others, simply because you don't see why you would want to. like i don't think you fully understand this need to argue and cause problems with others, it irks you.

you even might put other people's needs above yours almost naturally, it seems to come very easy to you. (did some of you grow up with a lot of siblings? i feel like there's this natural tendency to supress not only your own desires, but also your own emotions a lot.. i feel like you might've found yourself in plenty of situations where you needed to swallow your pride, bite your tongue, ignore your own emotions or grant others chances you yourself might've wanted.) you might be the type to politely hold the door open for people even though your arm hurts, offer the seat to the elderly even though you yourself are exhausted, allow your friend to grab the opportunity although you might need it just as much.

i do feel like you're quite peace-loving, and don't enjoy arguments at all. you seem excellent at approaching conflicts and problems in, not only this calm and collected manner, but also with this diplomatic and tender sense of understanding towards all parties. do you have any major libra placements? i can sense this beautifully non-judgemental energy in you, where you always seek harmony, no matter what situation you find yourself in. you also just seem balanced in general, and like not much can tick you off. some people might even ask you “how are you always so calm?” although i feel like you can experience feelings quite intensely once they take over you (i feel like you might cry a lot when you're on your own..) you just don't enjoy openly displaying your emotions, and might have problems expressing them outwardly. again, i keep feeling like this likely stems from a deeply rooted place, maybe you've just naturally aquired this mechanism within you, where you shut off your emotions and internalize them a lot.

you might put a lot of thought into how others view you, might dislike the thought of anyone looking at you as overly dramatic. you also seem pretty perfectionistic, especially in closely managing the way you're perceived by people, or the way you treat people. you might often fear doing them wrong, or overstepping any boundaries. i can sense an avoidance of expressing or asserting yourself strongly again here, because you just don't want anyone to feel like you're doing too much. (i know this is a reading that focuses more on positives, but spirit is telling me this selflessness in you makes you immensely beautiful.. maybe you even have a lot of egocentric people around you, therefore your kindness just stands out even more. don't lose that sincere heart you have for others, however; you need to listen to what you yourself want more as well <3 learn to balance these two sides in you out, because if not, others might take advantage of you)

i do think though, that a lot of this calmness might be a result of your maturity. it's interesting because on the one hand you can feel like the young student who still believes they have so much to learn from life, but at the same time, you do have a lot of valuable advice to give to people, just because you might relate to a lot of the things others go through. you seem amazing at putting yourself in someone else's shoes, i can feel people thinking you're a great listener.

i just feel like your unique beauty lies in this gentle, pleasant and mild energy you bring to the table. you'd be the type of person i could tell my deepest darkest secrets to comfortably, and i feel like you wouldn't mutter a word to anybody. like your friends probably can tell you the wildest sht they've done, without any embarrassment. or call you at any given moment, and you'd be there to listen to their angry rants or rages, and just take it all in quietly.

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

Are You Sure?! - Episode 5 observations

7.5/10 ☆

A couple fights over nothing in front of other people, creating an atmosphere full of tension. There's questions in the back of the audience's mind. What is underneath all that bickering? What lies under that perfect initial façade of a couple who knows everyting about what ticks the other one? They are rude, sometimes loud, sometimes they forget there's other people there. It makes a guest uncomfortable. So much so that the guest would rather leave than spend one more second there.

Is this Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf or Are You Sure?!

The Jeju trip has now ended. On a rather anticlimatic note, but a result of a day in which the need to actually stick to a format of a travel show went directly out the window. Another filler, in which the guest was ready to leave from the moment he woke up (which he did).

Episode 5 did not nothing but merely reinforce what we saw the previous day in terms of relationships dynamics. Which was to be expected. People don't change over night and they weren't put into situations that might allow for other facets to rise to the surface. Once again, Jimin and Jungkook are going about their day as a duo, as a team, as a couple, as bj brothers, you name it. The show had already been establishing that from day 1 of their trips around the world. There's the everpresent "we" and then everyone else surrounding them. From conversations at dinner, to spending time together at night, getting ready to go out or just staying indoors while one of them is taking a nap while the other is cooking nearby. Snapshots of a couple life.

One that bickers because of very stupid and silly reasons, but being together on the joke and knowing each other's boundary. A lot of people can spend years together and still wouldn't care when they cross the line.

I wanted a real fight and instead all I got was nonsense over spam or pink sausages. But I won't dwell too much on it because it's not necessary. Although it did add to the neverending list of Tedros not being able to understand the mood. He takes Jungkook's reaction seriously, he doesn't understand what Jimin is trying to say when he calls himself weaker on the boat (when Jimin did nothing but reveal his strength kink). It simply shows that his humor is not the same. And perhaps current mean spirited voices are a mirror of him, unable to take a step back and realize the nuances and meanings behind what people do and say.

There are now five weeks since AYS began. And somewhere between 5-6h of footage of Jimin and Jungkook which come after a long time of not seeing them together, despite knowing that they are together and have been throughout some major events in the last couple of years, which culminated with their joint enlistment (they might be forced to go, but it was a relief to hear them having a laugh about it in late September).

It is a shame though that the result of this show, which for some of us is a real treat as we finally get to see Jimin and Jungkook outside the specific type of silly BTS content, has also become an opportunity for complete denigration of this pair. In part by their own so-called fans. No one is forced to watch it. If the need to look for clues that reveal imaginary conflict or lack of closeness is the thing that gets them off, I'd rather not see it. Unfortunately, it is inescapable. These are people that do not deserve anything nice.

I'm excited for the final segment of the show and I want to cherish those next three weeks, even though it will all be over then. I hope there's a real return to the intimate component. Which doesn't meant fairytale happiness. It just means a glimpse into the last days of youth and freedom to be together in a way that had then to be put on hold as the harsh reality of forced "military adulthood" came knocking at the door.

[incorrect-trolls-imagines]

Hi! How was your day? Good,i hope?

Anyways,I found your account recently and I really liked your partner squad AU! It's so wholesome and funny 😭 And I love Polyamorous relationships (i guess that's what it is?)

Here's a little headcanon (?) request for them,because I read the 'loosing colors' HC and I think that was just my favorite thing out of the partner squad thingies-

Honestly,I just want some hurt/comfort. I like crying (/j)

I give total freedom to you about what angst it is,but if you want,or are out of ideas,here are some:

-Reader comes back home after being harassed (not s3xually,maybe just about the way they act? Maybe they just stick out a lot and some people don't like it??? Some people are bullies man..)

-Overworked reader (Maybe breaking down??)

-Socially anxious reader?

-the reader fainting suddenly??

Something like that! Anyways,I hope this isn't too vague of a description,and that you have a fantastic day!!

-Nina/Weewoo

HII HELLO!!! THANKS FOR THE REQUEST AND I HOPE YOU'RE HAVING A NICE DAY TOO!!! AND I'M GONNA DO ALL OF THEM IDEAS YOU SENT CUZ I'M A SUCKERRRR FOR ✨A N G S T✨

okey dokey folks! we've gots some ✨A N G S T✨ to go through so it's-a time to get-a cooking!

Here's the Loosing Colors post btw and I'm gonna use that one just for this first scenario (omg. a sequel, yes!)

💙♥️🖤Partner Squad Reacting to Gray!Reader getting harassed💙♥️🖤

💞 As a whole 💞

💞 Oh, they pissed. As soon as they find out that you've been having trouble with some inconsiderate trolls being nasty to you for having lost your colors, you can bet they're practically up in arms and very eager to have a talk with those bullies.

💞 (You're mortified and somehow manage to convince them to Not Do Anything To Harsh for your sake, though.)

💞 Lots of reassurance!

💞 Your partners won't allow you to sulk or dwell too much in the whole ordeal and they'll make a combined effort to always lift your spirits up whenever you start to believe the rude and flat out unnecessary things the bullies said to you.

♥️ Barb ♥️

♥️ She's easily the most outraged out of the lot. She hates bullies (kinda ironic, yeah, but you get the idea.).

♥️ Particularly, she hates bullies that joke and tease about such sensitive topics as losing your colors. Because, c'mon, that's just straight up professional huge a-hole behavior.

♥️ Whenever she wants to help you feel more comfortable with your situation, she'll take your hands in hers and raise them to your eye level, as if wanting you to take a good look of your laced fingers.

♥️ “Y’see? I'm sorta gray too, if you think about it. But I think you rock those grays way better than me, babe.” (She's intentionally corny to get a smile out of you and it works every time.)

♥️ She tries to get back at the bullies, but she's always too obvious and you never let her have the payback she's so adamant you deserve.

🩵 Branch 🩵

🩵 He can relate.

🩵 Oh, he can relate a lot. He grew up gray and, man, can trolls be cruel even if they seem to be all sunshine and rainbows. Not to say ‘he’s had it worse’ when he was younger, no, he's not the type to downplay a situation like this, ever, but he's definitely the best candidate to help you go through this ordeal because of his past.

🩵 Lot's of open-heart talks, venting, hugs and, yes, lots of tears from both sides as well (just don't go around telling everyone, please).

🩵 He's still devastated that something as awful as losing one's colors could ever happen to you but he can't mope about it forever (never in front of you, at least); he remains strong for your sake.

🩵 He also tries to ‘avenge’ you in whatever way he can, almost begging you to let him at least do something to deal with the ones that bothered you, anything, but you never give in and eventually he gives up (very reluctantly).

🧡 Hickory 🧡

🧡 Now, Hickory over here, he's actually the only one that manages to evade your suspicions and he flat out threatens the trolls that harassed you to buck off (in an eerily peaceful and very cowboy-ish manner, might I add).

🧡 After that, you don't ever get bothered again and Hickory lets you believe that those trolls simply had a change of heart.

🧡 His way of helping you go through this hardship is not by ignoring the issue, but he just rather not mention the obvious unless it's absolutely necessary.

🧡 It's not like he's in love with you for your colors or whatever, but he does care deeply for your mood and feelings. He just wants you to be happy, y'know?

🧡 When the time comes that your colors gradually start to show up again, he just smiles and he'll go out of his way to always remind you of how beautiful those shades and tones look on you even if they're still a bit dim.

🩷 Poppy 🩷

🩷 She's frustrated, very, very much so. Why and how can other trolls be so mean and nasty???? Like Why?

🩷 After finding out about the way you were harassed, she gets clingy. She gets clingy because now she doesn't want to leave you all on your own, exposed to more mistreatment.

🩷 Just like Branch, she's familiar with the subject of color loss and she doesn't take it lightly for a second.

🩷 You could even say it's a bit of some sort of guilt she feels about the way Branch used to be treated in the past that she's now worried 24/7 about you.

🩷 She refuses to allow anyone even think about ostracizing you; she'll go feral if she ever catches someone even batting an eye at your lack of vibrant colors, let alone comment anything on the matter in a negative way.

💚 Tresillo 💚

💚 He's still not entirely used to seeing you without those lovely colors of yours and he's not shy to admit out loud that he misses them.

💚 But he doesn't do that to make you feel bad, or inadequate or guilty on any level; he's just honest like that, and he hopes for the day that your beautiful colors return.

💚 Then, and only then, he'll know you're really and truly okay. And if you're happy, he's happy.

💚 Like Poppy, he gets overprotective and almost overbearing just so he can keep an eye over you so no one else dares bother you in the slightest about your color loss.

💚 He won't threaten anyone like Hickory did, but he will glare and give the worst of stink eyes at whoever steps out of line in his presence, and man, he can look kinda scary when he's serious like that.

💙 Trollex 💙

💙 Like mentioned before, Trollex once lost his colors too after the passing of his parents, but that particular experience he has on the subject is what gives him the reassurance he needs that you can get better, just like he did and just like Branch did as well.

💙 The thought of someone bullying you for your situation makes his blood boil but he's more concerned on how you feel and what you think.

💙 Forget those bullies, they don't matter now. Now it's all about you and how you feel and what you need.

💙 He becomes a bit of a mother hen, always asking about your mood and hoping that one of these days, your bright colors will shine bright once again.

💙 He's a great listener, so if you need a shoulder to cry on or just vent, he'll always be there, ready to give you advice and make sure you always leave with a huge smile on your face.

[misc-obeyme]

not sure if this one has been done before but i'd like to request a set of headcanons for the dateables who assumed mc (male or gender neutral, up to you!) had feelings for someone else, and had already given up, right up until they confessed that they were in love with them.

also, can solomon's be set during nightbringer? i don't mind when the others are set!

thank you! i love your writing!!

Hi there, anon!

This may have been done, but it hasn't been done by me, so you're good lol! Oh man this one was fun. They all start out angsty and then end with the confession and I love it. I have to write angst more often, apparently I enjoy making characters feel pain. Which is weird considering I made myself sad writing these. I kind of feel like this might just be the universal writer experience, though.

Also I feel I should mention that Diavolo believes MC is in love with Lucifer because I honestly feel like that's the only scenario in which he would completely give up lol. Everybody else's is vague, but they all think it's one of the brothers.

Thank you for the request!

the dateables think GN!MC is in love with someone else and give up on them, but then MC confesses

Warnings: angst as all the characters believe that MC is in love with someone else, but ends with fluff

Diavolo

He can tell that there's someone you care about. It's in the way you sometimes get a private sort of look, like you're thinking about something very specific, and then you smile softly. Seeing that smile makes his heart ache. He's so happy that there's someone who makes you feel that way, someone who makes you smile like that, but he's fairly certain it isn't him. The pain of knowing that you'll never be his is deep. It keeps him up at night, but he tries to act like there's nothing wrong.

He thinks you're in love with Lucifer. He can't deny that there's something special between the two of you. And he's convinced that Lucifer is the only one that you could be in love with. Lucifer is protective, competent, and always looking out for you. You rely on him, but he relies on you, too, more than he would admit. And Diavolo simply doesn't have that closeness with you.

He thinks he's being very realistic about the situation. There's no point in pursuing you when your heart clearly belongs to someone else. Convinces himself that he's happy enough just to be near you, to be in your presence. Sometimes lets himself feel jealousy over it, but works hard to suppress that feeling. Actively tries to move on because he has responsibilities he needs to focus on.

So when you confess to him, he's in shock. Actually speechless for several minutes. And then he grabs your hands. MC, are you sure? Are you sure you're in love… with him? You won't have to reassure him more than once. As soon as you tell him you're sure, he's accepted what you've told him. Gets teary eyed about it because the feeling in his chest is so overwhelming. He never thought this could happen, but here you are, telling him that you're in love with him. All he wants to do now is kiss you. You've made him so happy he can't think straight.

Barbatos

He knows right away that you've fallen for someone. He's observant, so it isn't hard for him to pick up on it. It's obvious in the way you get a little preoccupied sometimes. You become a little forgetful and scatterbrained, like your mind is somewhere else. But you also seem a little happier, quicker to smile and laugh. What an odd feeling for him. Seeing you like this fills him with a special contentment. And yet…

Barbatos doesn't necessarily know who it is you have feelings for. At least, there's nobody he suspects is your special person. He just knows it isn't him. He's convinced that he would be able to tell if it was. Sometimes thinks about who it might be and has certain others that he thinks would be a good fit for you, but he doesn't dwell on this too much. Busies himself with his work so he doesn't have to think about that little sting he feels whenever he thinks about it.

A master at compartmentalizing his mind and feelings so that he doesn't have to deal with them. Simply tucks all that away into a corner of his soul where he can ignore it entirely. Let it stay there and fester for a bit. He has more important things to deal with than his own silly feelings. And so nobody would be able to tell - not you, not Diavolo, no one. He has a lot of practice at keeping secrets, after all.

But all of that is going to come bursting out of its restraint when you tell him how you feel. Blushes instantly. Overcome, overwhelmed, flooded with the emotions he'd been keeping locked up tight. You can see the chaos in his eyes. But he takes control of all of this pretty quickly. Pulls you close to him, wraps you in his arms. Truly you may never know the extent of his happiness, MC. Please always stay by his side.

Simeon

It isn't so much that he doesn't notice as he just assumes he's wrong. There's definitely something different about you lately, but he's not going to guess at what it is. Probably asks you directly if there's anything on your mind. Considering you're likely not ready to tell him how you feel, you can pretty much say anything about what's going on in your life and he'll accept it. Moves on without too much questioning, but keeps an eye on you.

Eventually, he won't be able to deny it. He's going to have a specific demon brother in mind, too. He watches you with that brother, whichever one you're closest to, and thinks he's figured it out. Even though you didn't tell him you were in love when he asked and he knows it's not a good thing to assume, he still can't help but notice it. The way you smile when that brother speaks to you. The way you seem to drift near him whenever you can.

And if Simeon takes the time to consider this for very long at all, he'll realize that the feeling that bubbles up in him first is jealousy. He's not happy about that. He doesn't like the way it makes him feel. And just underneath it, he senses a deep pain that he doesn't want to explore. So he attempts to shut it all down. He's very good at maintaining his composure when he's with you. But when he's alone, he lets himself feel everything. Might even let himself cry if he's certain no one will hear him.

Definitely cries when you tell him how you really feel. Just lets that relief wash over him and his love for you is something he can't contain. Please hold him, MC. He just wants to be near you forever. Never let him go. He might ramble for a little bit about how he thought you were in love with someone else. He might even tell you all about how it made him feel and how he wasn't dealing with it very well. But in the end, he's going to smile at you through his tears. Really make his heart burst by kissing them away.

Solomon

He's always known that you belong to the seven demon brothers. He knows him having a chance with you is just wishful thinking. It doesn't matter that you live with him now. That he's the only one who knows that you're really from the future. It doesn't matter how fast his heart beats whenever he sees your smile. That when he's with you all he can think about is putting his arms around you. Solomon knows you aren't his. You will always choose the brothers.

He's aware right away that you've got feelings for someone. He has his guesses. Perhaps two or three different demon brothers come to his mind. Starts paying attention to how you act around them to see if he can figure it out. He will question the brothers he suspects, just to see how they feel about you. If they give him less than satisfactory answers, he might try to steer you away from them. Not because he thinks that makes you more likely to choose him, but because he doesn't want to see you get hurt.

Ignores the way your softened expression makes his gut twinge. Sometimes stares at you for too long because he's trying so hard not to say something to you about it. He doesn't ask you because he knows he can't handle the answer. Starts throwing himself into his work. Forcing himself to think about anything else. But how can he think of anything other than you?

Your confession nearly takes him out. He's so surprised, so overcome with emotions, he falls to his knees at your feet. Grasps your hands like he's drowning and you're the only thing that will save him. He was holding so much tension inside and he didn't even realize it. Now it's all draining away. You can either pull him to his feet or join him on the floor. Either way, he needs you to hold him. MC, please tell him he isn't dreaming. Please tell him this is real. Reassure him with a kiss and he'll pull you into a fierce embrace, like he's scared you'll vanish if he doesn't hold you tight enough.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[sourw0lfs]

dance with the devil - part three

Words: 525 | Rating: E (not this part but previous parts so consider it as a whole) | CW: one mention of the cops, mentions of blood and death, past alcohol consumption/hangover

part one || part two || part three || part four || part five || part six || part seven || part eight || part nine || part ten || part eleven || part twelve

The guy grins at Steve, all teeth and dimples, right as Steve's body decides to remind him that he's moving much too quickly for how hungover he still is. His stomach rolls dangerously and he's back in the floor before the stranger even gets a chance to speak. He doesn't throw up again, thank god, though he's not sure there's much left in his stomach anyway after the first time. The whole ordeal leaves him feeling even more vulnerable than before, now with a stranger hovering over him. 

"You want some help with that?" the stranger asks, blatantly dodging Steve's question.

The words don't fully register with Steve as he groans on the tile floor. His head is pounding more than any hangover he's ever had before and the rushing sound in his ears is trying to block out any sort of conversation. But the stranger doesn't seem to have any ill will towards him. Given the massacre in the living room and that fact that Steve's whole body is stained dark red from drying blood, sympathy and help should be in short supply. If this guy is some kind of roommate situation, surely he should be screaming for help or calling the cops or whatever people do when they find a murder scene.

But he's just standing there, looking down at Steve with wide, dark eyes, sincere and serene. It's unsettling in the middle of everything else, but Steve doesn't have the energy to dwell on it. Someone's offering him help and he should take it, even if he can't quite figure out what part the man is offering to help with. God knows he can't help himself right now. "Yeah, sure, whatever," he manages to groan out around the nausea. 

He's barely gotten the words out when the light in the room is suddenly blinding, far more than any sunlight streaming through the little window could ever make it. When the light clears, so does Steve's head. The pounding and rushing are both gone and his stomach finally feels settled again. His gaze snaps up to the stranger, no longer dizzying with faster movements, just in time to see his eyes fading from a bright, glowing gold back to dark brown. "What the fuck was that?" he asks, voice little more than a cracked squeak. "What did you just do."

This time the stranger laughs, the sound echoing in the tiny room. "I helped you, just like I offered," he points out. "Hangovers suck." 

It both is and isn't an answer, something  Steve is used to from pretty much everyone he knows, so he just rolls his eyes, putting a bitchy sneer on his face as he says, "That doesn't answer my question. Or the one about who the fuck you are, actually."

At first the only reply he gets is just another boisterous laugh, the stranger grinning widely at him as if he's made some sort of hilarious joke. Steve doesn't think his questions are particularly funny. He actually thinks they're rather serious, all things considered. 

"Well," the stranger says slowly, calculatedly, "to start off, how much do you know about magic?"

tags: @chaosgremlinmunson @soaringornithopter @hbyrde36 @shares-a-vest @dreamwatch @quevadilla @tboyeddie @penny00dreadful @momotonescreaming @stevesbipanic @dawners @little-birch-boy @steddiejudas @just-my-latest-hyperfixation

[sirsbasement]

An Unlocked Door

You trudge up to your front door. Feet sloshing in soaked shoes with each step. Wet squelching, but not the kind you desire. All day you've been unnaturally horny, and all you want to end your day is to touch your clit while you stuff something in your cunnie. You fumble in your purse, but have trouble finding your keys. Rain from the gutter spills out onto your head, worsening your already ornery mood. You try the knob, knowing it won't move. But it does.

The knob turns, and the door opens inwards on rusty hinges. Odd, you think to yourself. You remember locking the door, but you've been wrong before. If you're honest with yourself, you've not been much good at anything other than pleasing yourself, and others. So you step through the entry way and close the door behind you. You step over tile floor, leaving drops of water behind you. In the kitchen now, you pry open the refrigerator door with an effort.

It's empty. Like you are, you want it filled... the fridge too, but that will have to be a problem solved another day. You can do something about the craving void between your legs though, so you consign yourself to an empty stomach. As you begin to close the door of the fridge, you catch a shape behind you in the door's reflective surface. Before you can let out a panicked shout, my hands are on you. One touch calloused hand closes tightly over your mouth, the other takes hold around your wrists. Both wrists in one mighty mitt, there's still ample room in my grasp. You know it is only constraint that keeps your frail bones intact.

I lean in close enough for you to feel the warmth and smell the sweetness of my breath. You're a child under the canopy of my shadow. Your legs quiver under you, and terrified tears begin to spill over the roundness of your soft cheeks.

"Don't scream. It will change nothing. I will have you regardless of how much you fight it. Nod if you understand."

You nod frantically, whatever gets you out of this situation safely. My hand on your mouth slackens, and you take deep racking breaths, the cold air rushing into your lungs. I press myself against you from behind, and you feel me take a long drawn breath in your hair. My voice is granite on stone, raspy and deep. You feel it as much as you hear it.

"So sweet. So ripe, and all mine."

I turn you with me, and press you hard against the kitchen counter. You catch yourself just in time to stop your head from smacking painfully on the counter. Both damp hands slap loudly on the counter. You feel me pillaging your body, powerful fingers pull at your clothes, pulling the wet cloth from your curvaceous form. Your clothes fall from the floor, piece by piece. You can't explain how, but your warm. Where you thought you would be shivering from the cold, you're burning up inside. You flush, realizing despite having been rained on, it's the hungry gash between your legs that is the most damp. Almost in sync with you, I take another deep sniff.

"What have we here?! I can smell your cunt. You whore. It's more fun when they fight, but you wouldn't even if you could. Am I right?" I ask playfully

You turn your head in embarrassment, but you know that I am right. You're left nude, save your panties. They're plastered to your skin, your excitement plain. They are sticky, and sweet and you want nothing more than to reach down and pull them away. I beat you to it. I pull them to the side, slick trails of your feminine juices connect your cunt to the panties like spider's web.

You can't see me undress, but you hear heavy thuds as my clothes hit the floor. You smell me now, and blanch. You know the smell of cock, you love it in fact. But you've never had such a carnal reaction, you know for a fact that the only way I could be so pungent is if i was already erect and leaking thick drops of pre. You don't have time to dwell on that further. You feel me enter you.

You splay open painfully, your engorged lips parting for the head of my cock as I force myself through the tightness of your body. You feel my hands on you again, and now you know my strength. One hand weaves through your hair, and pull your head back so strong you fear of whiplash. The other closes around your throat like a vice. What is the point of asking if you will scream if I was going to squeeze this hard you ponder. Foolishly you think this internal dialog will keep your mind safe, it doesn't. Loud squelching erupts under you, as I ravage your pussy. You're spread so wide around me you can pick out individual veins around my girth, the pressure is so great. You feel warmth drip slowly down between your legs, your pussy is a pot boiling over.

"Your so damn tight! What a prize I have with you, whore!" I bark delightedly.

Your legs clash against the lip of the counter, you feel the bruises building already. You decide you'll worry about that if you survive the night. The tautness of your ass claps against my thighs as I plow you into the counter. You struggle to stay cognizant, it's an effort with my hand still slowly choking the life from you.

You feel the head of my cock reach depths you did not know you had at the peak of every thrust. Every thrust of my hips a hit of dopamine, and unending pleasure. You feel yourself approaching orgasm, and can't be bothered to be shameful about it. The veracity of my fucking knocks things from the counter to break upon the floor. The cabinet your knees batter against falls off a hinge.

"Please... please sir, I'm going to cum" you barely manage to whimper between my clutching fingers.

Like a wild animal who's cage is accidentally left unlocked, I bare down on my pray. Your vision blurs at the edges, and you feel my shaft in you harden even further. You desperately hope you'll be awake to feel the pleasure of your release and mine. Like a dam breaking, I explode inside of your folds. Every inch of your grasping tunnel is coated with an ever flowing torrent of white ropes of cum. Your knees finally give, and my hands are all that keep you from collapsing. You cum your stupid slut brains out. Your clit throbs, and you tense desperately against my girth.

My hands slowly unfurl, and you catch yourself against the counter. You barely manage to stay on your feet, but you start seeing the world in familiar color as you catch your breath. You feel me slide my erection from inside of you, despite yourself you try to clinch and keep me captive inside of you. Spent as you are, it makes little difference and you feel familiar emptiness as my cock slips from within you with an audible sloppy "Plop".

I reach down behind you and pull your panties back over the defiled ruins of your pussy. You feel my seed leak, and instinctively try to clinch yourself around my load.

Uncaring, you hear me pick my clothes up off the floor, and you hear the sound of my feet slapping the floor as a I walk away.

"Nobody will believe you, you know. If you are lucky, I'll come back and have you again... and again... and again..." I trail off as my voice grows quieter as I step back out into the night, closing the door firmly behind me.

You rush through the kitchen, tracing my footsteps. The rain has dried, instead there are drops of the aftermath of your abuse trailing in front of you. You catch yourself at the door, and put your hand on the deadbolt. But you hesitate turning it. For a long moment you stand there, still throbbing from the aftermath of your fucking. When you step back, the door is unlocked.

You keep your soiled panties on for days, trying to relive that single unforgettable night. Your door stays forever unlocked.

[wings-of-ink]

Hello

I'm the anon who made an ask some time ago about an MC who likes to take care of others. And also the one who rambled about the name I gave to my MC (Winfred, if you remember).

Well, I was thinking about what would Winfred do, after the adventure has ended and they are cured (hopefully). And I imagine that he would like to have a house nearby his parents, if not live there still, but making some room additions. See, I know Winfred would basically adopt the gang after everything is over. So, while he would marry Oswin, I see him inviting Zahn, Duri, Rune and ??? to live with them, or to visit constantly. Always having a warm bed and meal prepared for them. And making sure they are being taking care of.

I imagine Oswin would be conflicted by this. Mostly because it does in line with Winfred's caring and gentle personality. But also because Oswin always has some level of conflict with the others. But Winfred probably will end up seeing the rest as his sons in a way. Which is very funny when it comes to Duri, Rune and ???, since I don't see them expecting that coming. Yet, the way I see things, the relationship would evolve to this stage so slowly that one day they would wake up in shock realizing what happened.

The more I think about it, I don't see Winfred living far from Kip and Dov. I simply can't. I know he would want to take care of them when they get to old age. If not earlier. He already does in a way. Since he always comforts them when the choice is available after something terrible happened. And he decided to spare the problems he faced on the letter, so they remain hopeful instead of worrying.

I also see Winfred helping Lakota and family. He already loves children, especially those of his friend, so I imagine Winfred would prefer to stay close so he can help raising them. And be there in case of need as all his loved ones have been for him during his life.

I do wonder what the cast (the RO's, since everyone is too much) would think about the whole development of Winfred basically adopting them? Well, adopting them all but Oswin, who gets to be the beloved husband. I do think is a funny situation especially for Duri, since he basically began the relationship with a lot of heavy sexual innuendo flirting. So ending up in such a position must be puzzling.

Hello again, my dear Anon!

I'm loving the picture you're painting for your MC and their found family. They all really really need that, especially at this stage of each of their lives. Oswin will have some tension for a while, mostly with Zahn, Duri, and eventually ???. Rune will be the easiest for him to get along with. Once the series of events play out and the team has gone through some rough stuff together, Oswin will start seeing them as friends. So if Winfred wanted to invite his friends to live close as a family, Oswin would be supportive (he needs some good friends too). Now, he'd maybe gripe a little and feel a bit uncertain at first, but he just needs time to adjust.

Kip and Dove would be thrilled that not only does their kid want to stay close, but he brings all these people whom he cares for to surround himself with. Lakota as well, though he might get just a teensy bit jealous just at first. He's accustomed to having the MC mostly to himself. But, he's a sweety and loves people and it will not take long for him care deeply for them as well.

Zahn is probably the one to most readily accept Winfred's invitation. They have probably the most flexible living arrangement, so they don't really have much to consider there. They'd be so happy and excited for this new way of life. They are used to city-dwelling, so that would be an adjustment, but they'd find fun in it.

Duri would be a bit torn at first. To leave for an adventure is one thing, to leave their birthplace for a more permanent living situation is another. They love the pack, though without Duri, they would still thrive. They'd agree, but tentatively - probably wanting some of the pack to come with and dwell in the wood around the village. Duri would be more inclined to be an inside/outside friend too, lol. They need to run around and explore. Over time, Duri would do quite well in living close to humans and they'd love having a found-family (even if it's hard to admit).

Rune would need to think on it for a while, though they'd like the concept. As long as they can perform their music, Rune would find happiness. They'd probably still like to visit some other cities though. Rune may even establish a couple places to live, it just depends on what they get up to after the adventure.

??? is likely to hang around, but it would take him some time to really feel like he's found his home. He'd be inclined to suddenly wander off one day (maybe even without a word), stay out for a bit, and then make his way back. He's not one to part from those he cares for easily, so the odds of him accepting this arrangement are high - though he'd want his own little space - maybe even hang out with Duri in the woods (keep an eye on those two).

Thank you for the sweet ask, Nony! ^_^

[whoiwanttoday]

I've been through a lot of breakups in my life. This isn't shocking given I am innately unloveable and quite frankly a lot to deal with. Probably the closest I ever got to warm feelings post break up was, "I love you but I am exhausted". Totally fair, I can barely handle me most days and I don't have a choice in the matter, so I get how it's too much for someone else. I remember a fight with that ex and at some point me uttering the phrase, "Oh, like it's my fault your friends suck". Guys, I am here to tell you that did not de-escalate the situation like you might expect. No one likes it when you're absolutely right in an argument. Anyway, I think about these things sometimes because I think we all often try to look for meaning in things that don't necessarily inherently have it. That's because we kind of need major events to be about us because the other option is soul crushing. Like, if my heart is ripped out and torn in two I sure would like to think it's about me rather than not actually about me at all and instead I am just an incidental casualty because not only is life cruel and random I am not that important. I mean, look, Hamlet was miserable but at least they named the play after him, we'd all rather be the star than the attending lord who exists to swell the progress of a scene or two. Those guys got their heads cut off and didn't get their own play for centuries.

My therapist says dwelling on this stuff isn't great for me but I always feel like she's being kind of smug, like she's so fucking smart. You're not the only analyst in the room, lady, I went to college too but I don't sit in an office analyzing poetry at people to show off that fact, even though I once wrote about the Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock and my teacher not only told me how good it was but that I had a real 'knack' for analyzing poetry and she would really like to help me explore that more if I wanted. And while I am at it an insecure person would read the knack in quotes and think the whole thing was sarcastic but I know it was because she didn't believe in knacks but through hard work and didn't want to diminish that. Tricks on her, I wrote that paper in one sitting the night before because I do have a knack for using a lot of words to get to something. It really can pull the wool over someone's eyes for a few semesters but at the end of the day eventually runs thin and people tire of your charm, thus the many break ups. Which brings us full circle and that's how you do this nonsense, you fill up a lot of space sort of talking about nothing but if you can turn a phrase with a little skill people will be distracted long enough and I am bringing that up today because I don't actually have anything new to say about Sydney Sweeney but that's the whole point, do I ever really? No, not really but this is how you drag all that out and fill a page and she has me thinking about all this because I am thinking about someone who doesn't like her very much but used to like me and now probably has forgotten I existed. Which is vague but that's how it works sometimes, but I promise you that's a second full circle. They're not concentric, the both intersect at the start. Today I want to fuck Sydney Sweeney.

[dangerpronebuddie]

Kiss Me Once Cause You Know I Had A Long Night 22/?

82. Whispering "I love you" in-between kisses

Summary:

"You're sleeping together," she said into the table, "and you're still not a couple?"

"No?"

"There should not be a question mark at the end of that answer."

(read below!)

The sound of Maddie's forehead smacking into her dining table echoed through the house. She let out a noise that was half groan, half exasperated sigh. Buck was in trouble. She didn't use that sound often, but he knew what it meant: Evan, you're a grade A moron.

"You're sleeping together," she said into the table, "and you're still not a couple?"

"No?"

"There should not be a question mark at the end of that answer."

"There isn't," Buck shrugged, even though there very much was. "We're... friends with benefits, that's all."

"Evan." Maddie raised her head and stared at him, her omniscient eyes almost overshadowed with disbelief. "You're raising Christopher together. You go on dates. Christopher is legally yours-"

"That's a break glass in case of emergency situation," Buck waved off.

"Christopher is legally yours," she repeated. "I addressed my Christmas card to the both of you. Now you're telling me you're sleeping with him and you still aren't together?!"

Buck looked behind himself at Eddie and Chim in the kitchen. "Will you keep your voice down?" he hissed as he looked at her.

Her eye twitched as she stared at Buck. He was starting to think maybe he should've kept his mouth shut altogether. But, maybe someone else needed to point out his stupidity.

"Evan," she said.

"It does sound stupid when you put it like that," Buck admitted, hunching his shoulders around his ears like he was twelve and admitting to wrecking his bike.

"It's not stupid," Maddie said, reaching across the table and taking his hands. "You're scared. But I think, if you talked to him, you'd find there's no reason to be."

Buck nodded and squeezed her hands. She pulled her hands away just as Chim and Eddie returned with dinner. Buck decided he'd dwell on the whole thing later. For now, he was going to enjoy being with his family, and having Eddie's hand on his thigh the whole time.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Buck didn't think about Maddie's words until Eddie came up behind him in the Diaz kitchen later that night.

Eddie pressed a kiss behind his ear and massaged his shoulders, like they were an old married couple. Buck moved away and took a deep breath.

"You okay?" Eddie asked.

"I need to tell you something," Buck said in a quiet voice. He turned to face Eddie, expecting to watch as he closed himself off.

But he didn't fold his arms, or stand back against the fridge. He simply watched Buck, open and understanding, and Buck really didn't deserve him. If this broke them beyond repair, he'd have no one to blame but himself.

"What's going on, Buck?" Eddie asked.

Buck rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't even know how to begin." Maddie said he didn't have to be afraid. He hoped she was right. He took a deep breath and looked into Eddie's soft, fond eyes.

"I think we should stop this," Buck finally said.

Eddie raised his eyebrows. "Okay. Do you want to tell me why?"

"It's just- I love you, and I promised myself I'd never be that guy again, and definitely not to you, and I don't want to hurt you, but I feel like that's all I ever do, so if you never forgive-"

Eddie cut Buck's rambling off with his lips. Buck immediately melted against him, wrapping his arms around his neck and sighing into it. This kiss felt so different from all the others. Those were frantic and messy and hurried, each leading to something more. This kiss was soft, tender, reverent. A kiss for the sake of it.

Eddie slowly pulled away and kissed the corner of his mouth before resting their foreheads together. "I love you, too. I want us to be real, Evan."

Buck grinned, relieved, as the words washed over him. He pulled Eddie into a tender kiss. "I love you. I want us to be real, too," he whispered against his lips.

"I love you." Eddie grinned so widely they weren't even kissing.

Buck didn't know how long they stood like that, passing the words back and forth as their soft kisses became more heated.

Hours later, with Eddie curled up beside him in bed, Buck finally felt something settle. The anxiety, the uncertainty, the fear, melted away. Maddie was right. Buck had no reason to be scared. As he drifted off, he pressed a kiss to Eddie's hair and whispered, "I love you."

[pomplalamoose]

Can we pls have some anh luke hc just after he joined the rebellion?🙏

Aaaahhhh that's a super interesting ask, especially because this doesn't get talked about in the movies or the books👀

I apologize if these are a little bit messy and all over the place, I had a very long day at work and wasn't sure whether I should post at all (but I really wanted to lol so here you go, anon🩵)

• Luke usually is a very positive thinking and easily excitable person, so I don't think it would take him overly long to adapt to new situations and surroundings 

• at least under normal conditions

• right after he joins the rebellion they are far from normal though, and I'm sure that even the little things, like a short moment of quiet, would serve as a reminder that 

• he lost everything 

• for the very first time in his life he is far away from home and all alone 

• he had to leave behind everyone and everything he ever knew

• he couldn't even say goodbye or bring some personal belongings that might've been important to him 

• now is the time that the loss of Obi-Wan, as a well as the deaths of of his aunt and uncle, really set in 

• and let's be real, all three were brutal and followed each other so closely that it makes them even harder to process

• not only did he see his home destroyed but also witnessed the murder of the man, that he believed would lead him from here on forward

• he got shot at and nearly died several times himself 

• (at this point he probably doesn't care about that much but it's still a stress factor)

• it's only natural to assume that Luke is not doing well

• I see him being very nervous and kind of jittery, unable to remain still

• he's slightly uncomfortable as well, scared of what will happen next

• he hasn't known Leia, Han and Chewie for long but already fears that something horrible will happen to them too

• he doesn't even know where Han and Chewie are for that matter or if he'll ever see them again 

• he wants to keep them safe but knows there is not much he can do

• I think this leads to him being very frustrated and, to keep going, he turns his fear and helplessness into anger 

• he has nightmares in which again and again he has to look upon the burned bodies of his family 

• at least R2 is with him and makes for good company

• they grow much closer during that time and Luke is so grateful to have him around 

• I'm kind of conflicted because on one hand it might be a good thing there is so much going on that he can't really take his time to arrive and settle down 

• theoretically it keeps him from overthinking and dwelling on the traumatic events 

• but on the other hand it would be so important for Luke to have time to grieve and for looking after himself 

• it's incredibly harsh and unfair but eventually he will have to decide on his priorities and on what to do

• will he succumb to his anger and despair 

• or will he keep going 

• somehow he still possesses the strength to keep going and to focus on the here and now

• there is so much to discover too!

• there are new foods and drinks to try and he's so enthusiastic about them 

• he gets new outfits, which I see him gushing over because I'm sure the only clothes he owned before were hand me downs from his uncle 

• he's so very proud about the pilot uniform he gets to wear too 

• he looks at it whenever he can 

• also there is so much to do and he wants to help out wherever he can 

• maybe he gets to take the first actual shower of his life 

• (did he know before that showering with water is actually a thing?)

• he finally has the opportunity to look at ships and their repairs from up close 

• I think he'd hang around the hangars and the pilots a lot, asking them all kinds of questions about their life and adventures with the rebellion 

• because there are so many new people Luke would be hesitant in his approach at first 

• while he's very eager to learn and desperately wants to get to know as many of them as possible, he doesn't want to interrupt their work 

• he doesn't want to be a burden 

• we don't know for sure if he got bullied back on Tatooine or not

• maybe Wormie is just an affectionate nick name?

• either way he worries about not being qualified and good enough 

• sure, he saved Princess Leia but he didn't do that alone, he had help

• what if nobody takes him seriously? He's just a boy from a desert planet 

• but to his surprise everyone greets him with open arms

• suddenly he's being flirted with too???

• he is confused™

• speaking of Leia though...he wonders if he'll get to spend more time with her when this is over?

• or at least for a few minutes in between?

• he wants to 

• when will he see her again?

• she's so nice and for some reason he feels drawn to her, it's unlike anything he ever experienced with someone else before 

• I think he'd look up to her too, admiring her strength and bravery 

• like so many others he feels inspired by her

[lemurlegs]

Bewitched

Hello everybody I'm finally back with a new chapter, I'm sorry it took so long, I had difficulty writing it, and i was a bit busy too. Anyways this chapter is longer. It explores a lot of things Ginger has done in her past, and we're gonna learn about the powers we possess.

Wordcount: 8.6k

Warning: murder, ritualistic sacrifice, cannibalism

Previous chapter

Chapter 5.

Dreams and powers

Alastors pov 

After a whole day of dealing with his wayward contracts, while his body didn't show it, he felt exhausted. He was ready to head back to the hotel and relax near his bayou.

As soon as he manifested in the living room, he caught sight of everyone sitting in a circle on the floor. Charlie immediately jumped up and greeted him, asking if he wanted to join their group activities.

Alastor wanted to refuse; he was tired and rarely felt the need to join in the silly exercises Charlie hosted. But before he could finish his sentence, she cut him off, explaining that they were sharing stories about their pasts and it was currently Ginger's turn. More information? How convenient.

He walked towards the group and settled on the couch next to them. No way in hell would the Radio Demon sit on the floor like some common sinner, he had a reputation to uphold. As he crossed his legs and got comfortable, after that he told Ginger to continue.

She started explaining that she had no idea why she ended up in Hell.

Alastor was confused, tilting his head at her comment. At the cafe that morning, she had mentioned using her womanly charm to manipulate men and hinted that she sometimes killed those she deemed worthy. To him, that seemed like a pretty obvious reason to be sent down here.

Charlie asked her to clarify.

"I mean that I don't think I'm innocent or something; I just don't know which of my sins got me here.” she shrugged. Answering nonchalantly.

At that, Angel Dust suggested she list her sins to figure out which one got her sent to Hell. Alastor was ecstatic; maybe her sins would explain her strange magical knowledge, and he might even learn what happened to her the day before, when she got attacked.

But as soon as he got his hopes up, Ginger quickly dismissed the idea. However, her response only made him more curious. A list of sins so long it would take hours to go over? Hoho, don't threaten him with a good time. 

That's when Alastor realized something. If she truly had committed so much evil, how did she manage it in such a short time? Not that he would ask a woman her age, of course—that would be ill-mannered—but she didn't look more than 27, but of course looks can be deceiving.

As he snapped out of his thoughts, he realized they had moved on to another topic. Charlie suggested that everyone name three things they were good at or enjoyed doing.

Angel's response made him grimace with disgust. The perverted spider always has a way of dampening his mood. He was listening to the group name their likes and talents, seemingly bored by how uninteresting they were. That's when he saw Ginger get excited about Husker's response.

“Magic, you say? What kind of magic?” her eyes were shimmering hopefully with a hint of excitement as she leaned towards the barcat.

Her happiness was short-lived when Husk clarified he was talking about card tricks.

Hmm, so she is indeed interested in magic. Maybe she's a practitioner. Or she could just be curious because of her attackers, since they clearly used magic on her. But how could she get herself in a situation like that on her first day? I mean, he knew this was hell but still. Maybe she knew her perpetrators? He shook off that though for now. Instead he began wondering about what kind of demon powers she might have and thought of ways to make her use them. That is, if she even knows she has them. Hmm, he hadn't considered that.

But Alastor didn’t have time to dwell on the topic any longer since it was now Ginger’s turn to share.

“Okay. Well, let’s see. I really like history, particularly the 1920s. I enjoy reading and I like singing. 

Particularly the 1920s? My, my, isn’t that interesting—a sinner as young as her interested in history, especially a time when he was alive? That's a rare sight.

After she finished, it was his turn. As he explained his love for jazz and cooking, as well as torturing souls, everyone fell silent at that of course, he sure loved getting a reaction from the crowd. Charlie quickly tried to salvage the situation and decided to call it a night.

Before they could leave, Ginger reminded everyone that Alastor hadn't answered the first question. Everyone was shocked by her boldness, even Alastor. He couldn't decide if it was boldness or foolishness.

To ask such a thing from him, the feared overlord, the master tormentor, the Radio Demon—it took guts, he had to admit that. He decided to humor her forwardness.

"My, my, quite bold, are we?" he said, his tone laced with amusement. "Well, if you must know, I was a serial killer in the 1920s, cleaning the streets of New Orleans. I'm quite certain that's why I'm here." He said proudly. 

As Alastor observed Ginger's serene smile and listened to her nonchalant acceptance of violence against the cruel and wicked, he felt an unfamiliar sensation stirring within him. It was a peculiar mix of intrigue, admiration, and something else—something he couldn't quite place.

The idea that someone shared his perspective on the nature of sin and punishment was undeniably intriguing to Alastor. Here stood someone who not only understood his worldview but embraced it. How exciting.

After this pleasant surprise, everyone left to retire for the night. Ginger walked to the kitchen for a quick dinner. This was the perfect opportunity to set his plan to discover her powers in motion. He used his shadow magic to warp behind her, ready to spook her, when she greeted him without even looking.

How in the ever-loving hell did she know he was there?—he thought. Narrowing his eyes, he stepped closer to her, looking down at the fox demon who is so full of secrets. 

When he asked, she gave an unsatisfactory response: a lucky guess. He almost rolled his eyes at that. Right, like he would believe that. He'd find out soon enough.

Alastor then began his plan. First step: getting her out of the hotel. That should be easy enough. He owned her, after all; she needed to listen to him.

“I need you to pick up some fresh cuts of meat from the butcher for me tomorrow. I'll write down the address for you.”

He conjured a notebook and pen, ready to scribble down the location, when she gave him a skeptical response and questioned his intentions. This made him a little annoyed. Who was she to question him? She had no right. He owned her.

He reminded her that her curiosity would get her in trouble if she kept asking more questions. She responded with sass. Oh, that’s it. He had been nice, but she needed to be taught a lesson. After all, he was the one in charge here—she needed to learn some respect.

Alastor threatened her, turning into his more demonic form, getting up in her face and telling her it was best if she did what she was told.

And to that, she didn't even flinch, as if she wasn't standing in front of a terrifying, cruel overlord. Giving a nonchalant response, she agreed, but it left him confused as to why she didn't react. Most demons would be cowering away in fear by now.

He wrote down the location and left her. He needed to think about the next steps of his plan. Once in his room, he lit the fireplace and sank down in his chair.

Step one was completed; now it was time for phase two. Once she went to pick up the meat as he asked, he planned to send one of his rowdy souls after her. He'd send those souls who had tested his patience, a lesson long overdue, he thought. And if she tore them apart? Well, he wouldn't mind. In fact, he hoped she did.

"Oh, how I wonder what kind of powers she has," he thought out loud. 

As Alastor's thoughts drifted towards Ginger's potential powers, he couldn't help but imagine the myriad ways they could be utilized to his advantage. Each possibility sparked a new wave of excitement, fueling his curiosity and ambition.

He envisioned Ginger wielding elemental magic, conjuring flames to engulf their enemies or summoning storms to wreak havoc upon their foes. With such power at his disposal, he could easily dominate the battlefield, using the forces of nature to bend his enemies to his will.

Or perhaps Ginger possessed the ability to manipulate minds, weaving illusions to deceive their adversaries or bending their thoughts to her whim. With such a power, she could infiltrate the minds of anybody.

Alastor's mind raced with possibilities, each scenario more tantalizing than the last. As he contemplated the many ways Ginger's powers could benefit him, Alastor's ambition burned brighter than ever before. With her by his side, he could ascend to even greater heights of power and influence, his name echoing throughout the halls of Hell as a force to be reckoned with. But first, he needed to uncover the truth about Ginger's abilities, and he was determined to do whatever it took to unlock her secrets.

After about some time he decided to check up on her room.

Maybe he could reveal something about her. After all, a person's room often tells a lot about them. He rose from his seat, left his room, and began approaching Ginger's room.

As Alastor strode through the dimly lit corridors of the hotel, his shadow danced eagerly along the walls, its form undulating and twisting with an otherworldly grace. It moved in tandem with Alastor's every step, a silent companion that mirrored his movements with uncanny precision.

As they approached Ginger's room, the shadow seemed to pulse with anticipation, its movements quickening with an eager anticipation. It hovered near the door, casting a dark silhouette against the wood as if eager to delve into the mysteries that lay beyond.

Alastor's voice echoed softly in the corridor, his words punctuated by a faint chuckle that reverberated through the air. As he spoke, his shadow danced eagerly beside him, its movements fluid and graceful.

"She's very interesting, isn't she?" Alastor mused aloud, his tone laced with a hint of amusement. "So full of secrets, and the longer I observe, the more questions appear."

His shadow seemed to sway in agreement, its form pulsating with a silent energy as if echoing Alastor's sentiments. 

Together, they stood outside Ginger's room, the anticipation palpable in the air as Alastor prepared to delve into the mysteries that laid beyond.

Holding his ear up to the door, he listened for any signs that might indicate she was still awake. Upon hearing light snoring, his smile widened. He began fading away into the shadows. Now in his dark incorporeal state, he reached under the doorway, trying to slide into the room. But as soon as he began slipping in, some sort of strong force ejected him. It was as if the very fabric of the magic repelled his intrusion, rejecting his shadowy essence with a forceful expulsion.

Thrown back against the opposite wall, Alastor's incorporeal form recoiled from the impact, momentarily stunned by the unexpected counterattack. Undeterred by the initial setback, Alastor attempted to regather his composure and make another attempt. Yet with each subsequent effort, the resistance only grew stronger, the strange magic proving to be a formidable obstacle to his shadowy form's entry. What the hell did she do to block HIS magic?

He started reforming into his physical form, clenching his fists in frustration. Stepping up to the door, he hovered his hand over it. Closing his eyes, he tried to focus, to see if he could feel anything magical. Surely enough, he began sensing a very strong locking seal on the entrance.

Opening his eyes, he began trying to reveal it. Maybe if he recognized the sigil, he could find a way to break it. The hand that was hovering over the door began to glow a soft green. Lifting his hand, he started moving it all around the wood, hoping to find the sigil's location.

As his hand reached the top of the door, a violet-colored glowing sigil revealed itself. So it was one hundred percent confirmed: Ginger was indeed someone who knew her way around magic. Judging by the fact that he couldn't recognize the marking, the lock kept him from entering, and the magic seal felt powerful. He knew she wasn't just some small fry witch—oh no, she was very strong. After all, keeping the Radio Demon out from anywhere was certainly an accomplishment.

As Alastor scrutinized the violet-colored sigil, he felt a palpable sense of power emanating from it. It wasn't just a simple ward; it was a formidable barrier, intricately woven with layers of protective magic. Each line and curve of the sigil seemed to pulse with energy, repelling any attempt to breach its defenses.

As he attempted to unravel the sigil's enchantments, he encountered resistance at every turn. It was as if the magic itself resisted his intrusion, pushing back against his efforts with a stubborn resilience. No matter how he tried to manipulate it, the sigil held firm, its protective barrier unyielding.

Frustration simmered beneath Alastor's calm exterior as he grappled with the realization that he was facing a foe of considerable power. The locking magic was not just keeping him out of the room; it was actively thwarting his attempts to understand it, a testament to Ginger's formidable abilities. With a sigh, Alastor withdrew his hand, acknowledging defeat for the time being. 

As he turned away from the door, his mind raced with possibilities. What other secrets lay hidden within Ginger's room, and what could they reveal about her true nature? Only time would tell, but one thing was certain: Ginger was not to be underestimated.

He started feeling glad he didn't eat her when he found her. But it made him wonder.

What else could she do?

Ginger's pov

As you slip into an unconscious state, it's as if you're descending into a soft, ethereal mist, cocooning you in its gentle embrace. Weightlessness overtakes your body, as if gravity has released its hold on your body. With each passing moment, your senses become hyper-aware, amplifying every sound, touch, and scent, pulling you deeper into the enchanting realm of dreams.

Once you fall completely asleep you find yourself surrounded by an ocean of blackness. As you swim through the boundless void, your mind clears like the dissipating mist, allowing you to focus with newfound clarity. 

With a whispered command of your imagination, the shapeless expanse begins to ripple and shimmer, as if responding to your words.

Slowly at first, tendrils of color emerge, painting delicate hues upon the empty canvas. Shades of emerald green intertwine with the deepest ebony, weaving a tapestry of shadows and light. The void trembles with anticipation, eager to take form under the spell of your creative will.

As your focus on the image you're trying to create the transformation quickens, and before your eyes, the formless void begins to coalesce into solid substance. Trees materialize from the darkness, their gnarled branches reaching skyward like ancient sentinels guarding the secrets of the forest.

Leaves unfurl in a symphony of verdant whispers, and the earth beneath your feet takes shape, soft and yielding to your touch. The air thrums with the pulse of life, carrying the scent of moss and damp earth on its invisible currents.

With a final surge of energy, the metamorphosis is complete—a dense, dark forest now stretches as far as the eye can see, its canopy of foliage obscuring the starry sky above. 

Stepping onto solid ground, you feel the damp earth beneath your feet, and the cool breeze blowing through your ginger hair. Your senses are immediately drawn to a soft, white glow hovering just ahead. The orb emits a gentle luminescence, casting flickering shadows upon the towering trees surrounding you. The orb floats effortlessly ahead of you, leading you deeper into the heart of the forest. As you follow its gentle guidance, the dense foliage begins to thin, revealing a clearing bathed in the silvery light of the full moon.

At the center of the clearing, you pause, mesmerized by the celestial beauty above. And as you gaze upon the luminous orb hovering before you, a presence begins to materialize—the figure of the Goddess emerges from the ethereal glow, her presence commanding the space around her. She is adorned with long, flowing black hair that cascades around her like wispy shadowy tendrils, moving with an otherworldly grace.

Upon her forehead, a shimmering moon sigil gleams with an ancient power, marking her as a divine being of lunar origin. Her long flowy dress, a radiant silver hue, seems to shimmer and glow, its incorporeal form appearing almost ghostly against the backdrop of the night.

She floats effortlessly above the forest floor, her gaze fixed upon you with eyes that are completely white, devoid of iris or pupils.

Surrounding her is a dark aura, vast and impenetrable, swirling with an intensity that speaks of depths unknown. She is the embodiment of darkness itself, not in its malevolent sense, but as its keeper.

She is Mona, the Moon Goddess. 

When she fully manifests before you, you bow to the powerful Goddess. As you raise your head, she extends her hand, and you watch in awe as it transforms. At first, it is an indistinct shadow, a mere silhouette in the dim light. Slowly, it begins to change, like smoke swirling and condensing into a solid form. The edges of the shadow blur and ripple, then start to coalesce, becoming more defined. Dark wisps of energy dance and weave together, gradually shaping into the delicate contours of a hand. The hand becomes fully corporeal, rich with the detail of veins, knuckles, and the soft, warm skin of a living being. 

She cups your cheek, and you lean into her touch, feeling the comforting dark energy seep into your very being. Calm washes over you, and your worries slip away under her warm, motherly touch.

She withdraws her hand and begins to speak, her voice resonating through the dark forest.

“What brings you here, my child?”

“I seek your guidance, Mother. I have descended into your realm, Hell. I’m trapped in a situation I cannot escape without your help. The coven of the Sun God, your brother’s worshippers, are here. They have cursed me, condemned my soul to rot away within a year. Please, Goddess, tell me you can help.”

You remove your clothes to reveal the sigil to the Goddess. She steps closer and with a delicate touch of her fingertips, tracing around the scar, she examines the curse. Her expression grows sorrowful as she reveals her answer.

“I’m sorry, my child, but the only one who's able to undo the spell is the one who casted, either by their own volition or by death.���

You felt your heart sink. Your coven, they would never forgive you, they have too much hate for you. And killing them? Well easier said than done, there's a lot of members and they are a lot more powerful than you are, especially together. It was hopeless. 

“No, no, no!” You groan in frustration, the tension gripping you like a vise. With a heavy heart, you bury your face in your hands, fingers digging into your scalp as if trying to alleviate the weight of your despair. Each breath feels labored, each moment filled with a sense of hopeless anguish that threatens to consume you whole.

It was all over, you're going to die in a year and there's nothing you can do. 

You feel a warm hand touch your shoulder, sending a calming energy through your spine. You sigh, gradually calming down from the Goddesses comforting touch. That's when you realize you are still in danger, the coven can still find you and drag you back to the torture cell. Not to mention not wanting to involve the hotel in this mess, that would surely end horribly.

You lift your head to look at Mona, a small empathetic smile on her face as she looks at you. You wipe off the tears that you just realized were rolling down your cheek. With a few sniffles and shaky breaths you finally gain back some composure. 

“There is another matter you might be able to help me with, Mother. I want to learn about my demon powers and how to use them. If the coven returns and tries to hurt me again, I need to be prepared. Could you please show me how to harness my powers?”

With a warm, reassuring smile, Mona extends her hand. As she does, shadowy tendrils emerge from her fingertips, weaving through the forest like hungry serpents. They consume the surroundings, devouring the familiar landscape until all that remains is a dark void. In this abyss, the only source of illumination is the faint, ethereal glow emanating from the Goddess herself.

“Let's begin," says the Goddess.

"To discover your powers, you must delve deep within yourself, exploring the darkest corners of your past. Take a deep breath and reflect, recalling your most grievous transgressions."

You inhale deeply, centering yourself, and begin to sift through your memories, navigating the murky depths of your past misdeeds.

As you focus on a particular memory, your surroundings shift. You and the Goddess materialize within the memory itself, witnessing your past unfold like scenes from a movie.

It's a memory of the first person you killed after massacring your coven. You wanted to steal his money since you were low on cash. The tavern you've been working in as a barmaid barely made you enough to get by. He was sitting at one of the tables close to the bar, already heavily inebriated. He was taller than you, but not by a lot, he was also a smaller skinnier build. Not a very attractive fella. He was known to be a drunkard, hitting on the barmaids, touching them inappropriately. He was the perfect target. 

Approaching him with measured steps, you wear a practiced seductive smile, your eyes gleaming with calculated allure. As you settle onto his lap, you can feel the weight of his gaze, clouded by intoxication, lingering on your form as the smell of sweat and ale filling your senses.

Leaning in close, you weave a tapestry of lies with your words, each syllable dripping with honeyed deceit. You stroke his ego, praising his strength and attractiveness, while subtly steering the conversation to your advantage.

With every whispered compliment, you draw him deeper into your web of deception, until he's putty in your hands, oblivious to the danger lurking beneath your facade.

After a few more drinks and a skillful exchange of words, you deftly pilfer the man's pouch without him even noticing, slipping away from the table with your prize in hand. Leaving the drunken mess of a man to his own devices, you disappear into the shadows of the tavern.

Days later, a group of men emerged from the doorway, stomping in angrily into the tavern. You recognized one of the men as the one you stole from a few nights ago. 

They approached you, shouting a growling demanding you give the guys money back. You try to calmly explain that you don't have the money. You tell them that you're poor and you work because your husband can't. You explained how you stole the money to buy medicine for him. They seem to ignore your words, throwing insults and threats your way. That's when the owner shows up and demands that they leave his tavern.

With a few more insults and profanities exchanged, the men left. After your shift finishes and you begin walking home, immediately feeling uneasy. Your intuition tells you to beware. Glancing over your shoulder, you catch sight of the men trailing behind, their menacing silhouettes growing ever closer. The men from the tavern hot on your feet as you speed up, eventually turning to a full sprint. Ducking into a narrow alleyway, you press yourself against the cold stone wall, breath coming in ragged gasps as you watch the men scour the area, their shadows looming ominously in the flickering lamplight.

One with a mustache comes close to your hiding spot. He's a lot bigger than the fella you robbed, he could easily overpower you. Sensing the need for a distraction, you whisper a barely audible incantation. A sudden loud bang reverberates from the other side of the street. Startled, the men pivot towards the noise, their attention diverted as they rush to investigate.

You have the chance to make your escape, but something mischievous starts bubbling within you. How much fun it would be to mess with them. You quietly run behind a tree, you begin slowly climbing it. From your elevated vantage point, you weave another spell, projecting your voice to the spot where you were originally concealed.

The men, drawn by the illusion, scramble to the empty hiding spot, their frustration evident as they find nothing. Delighting in the chaos you've created, you repeat the process, sending them on a wild goose chase around the alleyways. At some point your cheeks start hurting from smiling, trying very hard to keep the laughter escaping from your throat.

But soon, your amusement wanes, and you decide it's time to make your escape. With a final diversionary spell, you project the sound of running footsteps in the opposite direction, leading the men away as you slip quietly from your perch. As they give chase to the phantom sound, you descend from the tree, straightening your dress with a composed air, ready to disappear into the night.

As you descend from the tree, you're startled to find yourself face to face with the man you robbed days ago. 

“She's here!! The thief is— UGHH” instinct takes over and you swiftly plunge your pocket knife you always keep with you into his stomach.

He collapses, gasping for air, clutching his wound in agony. Despite the rush of power coursing through you, there's no time to revel in it. With a menacing smile, you turn to flee, but the approaching footsteps of the men from before hasten your departure.

As you sprint through the streets, desperation sets in, your breath coming in ragged gasps, your legs burning with exertion. With the men hot on your trail, you realize you can't outrun them for much longer. Frantically scanning your surroundings, your eyes alight on a nearby house with a clothesline adorned with drying garments.

Without hesitation, you dash towards it, ripping the men's clothing from the line and hastily donning the disguise. A hat pulled low over your brow completes the transformation, obscuring your features as you blend into the shadows of the night, evading capture once more.

“Hey, boy, have you seen a woman running this way?" 

The largest man pants, desperation evident in his voice. Without a word, you gesture in the opposite direction of your intended escape. They nod in gratitude, their footsteps quickening as they follow your false lead.

Breathing a sigh of relief, you hurry home, hastily packing your belongings as you prepare to leave the town behind. Before stepping out into the streets, you take a small knife and make a precise, deliberate cut across your palm, the pain sharp and immediate. Holding a deep bowl beneath your hand, you watch as the deep crimson blood drips steadily into it.

With your blood as the cornerstone of the ritual, you add rusty nails and rotten eggs, dried thorns and dead insects, a splash of vinegar, and a pinch of wormwood. These ingredients, potent and foul, amplify the dark energy of your spell.

Next, you write down the names of the men who pursued you, they were regulars so you have heard their names slip from their mouths. Placing the slips of paper into the bowl, each one soaking in the blood and other ingredients. The connection to your enemies is now tangible, their fate sealed within the mix.

Striking your flint and steel, you light the contents of the bowl. The flames flare up with an eerie glow, the blood sizzling and hissing as the hex activates. You watch intently as the fire consumes the mixture, the power of your blood magic sending waves of sickness and misfortune to the men who wronged you.

As the fire dies down to smoldering embers, you feel the energy of the hex solidify. With a final glance at the dying flames, you quickly duck out of your home, slipping into the night to begin your journey to another town, leaving the cursed remnants behind.

This was the first town you abandoned in such a manner. After three years of residing there, you depart due to a murder you committed, devoid of any remorse. It marks the beginning of a pattern, a cycle of fleeing from consequences that will repeat itself in towns to come. 

With the memory dissipating like smoke, shadowy tendrils throwing you into another.

As you delve into the next memory, the scene unfolds before you with chilling clarity. You find yourself in a dimly lit room, the air heavy with the scent of iron and decay. Your pulse quickens as you confront the man who dared to lay a hand on you.

It's 1886 and it's the first time you used your blood magic to kill someone. The man, Joseph, was someone you were fond of. You didn't exactly love him. No, the ability to love has been something you couldn't xperience anymore, and you'll be damned if you ever trust a man again. 

Either way he was somewhat close to you, but he mistook that friendship as something more. He tried to court you, not taking no for an answer. Joseph tried to get you to agree to go on a date with him several times, eventually he grew tired of you declining him and tried to use force against you. You two were in your home having a few drinks when he tried to kiss you. Pulling away from him only resorted to him grabbing you angrily to shove his lips against yours. You managed to escape his grip and knock him out quickly, he was out cold immediately as you broke a bottle of wine over his head. So that's where you were now, in the basement, with his form sprawled out on the cold altar table, bound and unconscious. 

It was the perfect time to try out a new ritual dedicated to the Huntress Goddess. You were trying to find a perfect victim after all, and of course not wanting to just kill any innocent rando, it was very convenient timing on his part really.

His face contorts in confusion as he begins to stir, awakening to find himself at your mercy.

As you stand before the bound man, his chest exposed on the altar, a tense silence fills the dimly lit basement. You can feel the weight of his gaze upon you, a mixture of fear and confusion flickering in his eyes. With a steady hand, you reach for your tools, the implements of your craft gleaming in the faint light.

“Why are you doing this?" he demands, his voice tinged with desperation. "What do you want from me?"

You pause, regarding him with a cool detached look. "What I want is of no consequence to you now," you reply, your voice low and steady. "You have trespassed against me, and now you must face the consequences."

His eyes widen in realization, a flicker of panic crossing his features. "Please," he pleads, his voice cracking with fear. "I didn't mean to hurt you. It was a mistake, I swear. We can fix this, go back to being friends." Joseph was begging like a pathetic puppy. Disgusting, he thought he could just have you, but what else did you expect from a man? They take what they don't own without hesitation or remorse. You are ready to make him pay for his actions.

You remain unmoved, your resolve unshakeable. "Words mean nothing now," you say, your tone devoid of emotion. Taking the sharp blade out of its sheet, a beautiful knife, with the handle made out of a deer antler, intricate symbols carved on it. "Actions have consequences, and yours have led you here.” you point the knife to his chest, you see his breath quicken, eyes widening, expression turning into that of a cornered animal. 

As you begin the ritual, his protests grow more frantic, his struggles against his bonds growing increasingly desperate, but you pay him no mind. Attaching the deer antlers to your victim, tying them to his head securely. You dedicated this animal, your perfect prey, to Fenja, the Huntress Goddess. Your focus is unwavering as you channel the dark energies swirling within you.

By offering this man's life to the Goddess, you will be granted protection from all dangers for an entire year. She will shield you from harm and guide you on the right path.

As the ritual reaches its climax, you draw upon the man's life force, draining his blood from his wrists with a steady hand. The crimson liquid flows into the deep bowl beneath him, pooling with dark intent as you prepare to channel its power.

With practiced precision, you carve intricate sigils into his chest, dedicated to the hunt, each stroke imbued with the ancient symbols of your craft. The man's skin yields to your touch, the marks etched into his flesh like a twisted tapestry of agony and despair.

With that you pick up your spell book, whispering incantations in an ancient language, praying to Fenja to grant you protection and to humbly accept the offering in trade. With the last words leaving your lips you hover over the man's sprawled out body. He's barely conscious because of the blood loss. With a savage determination, you reach for the sacrificial dagger at your side, its blade glinting in the dim light.

With a swift and merciless stroke, you plunge the deer bone dagger into the man's chest, tearing through muscle and sinew until you reach the prize you seek: his still-beating heart. With a triumphant cry, you wrench the heart from his chest, holding it aloft with a savage hunger in your eyes.

And then, without hesitation, you sink your teeth into the pulsing organ, tearing into its flesh with a primal ferocity. The taste of blood fills your mouth, a heady mixture of triumph and power coursing through your veins as you consume the man's essence. 

Your body quivers as a surge of power courses through you, each fiber vibrating with the intensity of the Huntress's magic. Your eyes alight with a mesmerizing hue of deep purple, as if infused with the very essence of the hunt.

The spell had worked, making that year incredibly peaceful. No one tried to expose you as a magic practitioner, you robbed and tricked people effortlessly, and you remained free from sickness and disease. It was perfect. The only downside was a little cannibalism, but with such a great payoff, why not? This ritual was just a modified version of what you did in the coven, where you used a raw deer heart instead of a human one. Somehow, the heart of this man gave you much more power than the deer’s. After that, you repeated the spell yearly.

As the memory begins to fade, reminders of past actions flicker into view, but before you can dwell on them for long, you're swiftly pulled into another memory, whisked away from the haunting echoes of the past.

As 1922 unfolded in New York, you couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement. The roaring twenties were your favorite decade, even with the tragic things that happened, now you were witnessing its glorious resurgence. With anticipation bubbling inside you, you eagerly embraced the era's vibrancy and allure. It was time to relive the golden days of the twenties once again.

You were sitting on a barstool of your favorite speakeasy, sipping on bootleg hooch and whisky imported from England. The Blind Tiger was owned by a man who was famous all over New York. Marco Moretti, a notorious bootlegger, a cruel criminal who held the coppers in the palm of his hands, and insanely rich.

The velvety warmth of fine whisky caressed your throat, igniting a familiar thrill as you took another sip. A symphony of smoke and spirits swirled around you, mingling with the lively jazz melodies that pulsed through the air. Your finger traced the rhythm of the music on the table, echoing the fast-paced tempo. Amidst the sea of elegant suits and dazzling dresses, joyous laughter and spirited dancing filled the room, painting a vibrant tableau of revelry and indulgence. Ah what a time to be alive.

With a cigarette poised between your lips, you fished out your lighter from your bag, anticipating the comforting glow of a flame. However, despite your best efforts, the stubborn lighter remained unyielding, failing to spark. Frustration increases as you click it repeatedly.

*flick*

*flick*

*flick*

"Ugh, God damn it," you muttered, cursing the heavens for denying you the simple pleasure of a nicotine fix. Disheartened, you slumped forward, resting your head on the worn bar table. Suddenly, the faint sound of another flick and the crackle of fire caught your attention.

Raising your head, you leaned into the offered flame, finally igniting your cigarette. As a wave of calmness washed over you with each inhale, you glanced up to thank the gentleman responsible, only to realize you were face to face with an actual mobster, none other than Marco Moretti, the owner of the speakeasy.

“Thank you kindly, sir” you look at him and my my he was handsome too. 

“Of course Bella, it's my pleasure” he said, offering you a sweet smile.

As the night went on, you found yourself talking and laughing with him, the smoky haze of the speakeasy wrapping around you like a veil. Marco was more than just a notorious figure; he was magnetic, captivating, and before you knew it, you were drawn into his world.

You were good at deception and trickery, at least that's what you thought until you met him. But he was like a mastermind, always ten steps ahead, fooling everyone effortlessly. As you two got closer, Marco introduced you to the inner workings of his empire, teaching you the art of discretion and the finesse of manipulation. You became his confidant, his right hand, his partner in crime, and soon, the two of you were running New York together.

Horse races at Belmont Park became your playground. You and Marco would arrive in style, decked out in the finest attire. The crowds would part as you walked through, a power couple exuding confidence and control. You placed bets with an air of nonchalance, always seeming to know the right horse to back, thanks to the inside information Marco had at his disposal.

Nights were a spectacle of luxury and excess. Lavish balls hosted in grand mansions became the norm, where the city's elite mingled with the criminal elite under a veneer of propriety. You danced under crystal chandeliers, the jazz music lively as alway. Every event was an opportunity to forge alliances and reinforce your status.

But it wasn't just the glamor that defined your days. You were involved in the meticulous planning of heists and the orchestration of elaborate bootlegging operations. You learned how to navigate the treacherous waters of the criminal underworld, gaining a reputation for your cunning and ruthlessness. Together, you bribed officials, outsmarted rivals, and expanded your influence, making the Moretti name synonymous with both fear and respect all around the country.

One night, after a particularly successful operation that involved smuggling a massive shipment of whisky through the city's sewers, you and Marco stood on the rooftop of the Waldorf Astoria, looking out over the glittering skyline of New York. 

Marco turned to you, his expression serious. "We've come a long way, Bella. This city is ours for the taking, but we have to stay sharp. The higher we climb, the further we have to fall.” 

He pulled you close to his chest, kissed the top of your head. Your relationship with him was complicated. You two were necessarily a couple, but it wasn't friendship either.  It was a weird in-between thing you two had, since both of you knew that being together would do more harm than good. 

But you loved each other, maybe not in the romantic sense, but you cared for him deeply and he cared for you two. It felt like nothing could stop the two of you. That is until one fateful night tragedy struck.

It started as a routine operation, a delivery of bootleg whisky to a new speakeasy on the Lower East Side. You and Marco were confident, your plan meticulously crafted. But as you navigated the narrow alleyways, a trap was sprung. Rival gang members ambushed you. Gunfire erupted, the sharp cracks of pistols echoing off the brick walls.

Marco and you fought back fiercely, but you were outnumbered. The realization hit you like a punch to the gut—this wasn't just a skirmish; it was an execution.

“Get out of here, Bella!" Marco shouted, shoving you towards a narrow escape route between two buildings. "I'll hold them off!”

“Are you insane Marco, this is suicide!” you protested, your heart pounding with fear and anger.

“Go!" he commanded, his eyes fierce and determined. 

Tears stung your eyes as you hesitated, but the gravity of the situation forced you to comply. With one last, anguished look at Marco, you fled, the sounds of gunfire and shouts fading as you ran.

You found refuge in an abandoned warehouse, heart heavy with dread. Minutes felt like hours as you waited, hoping against hope that Marco would emerge from the shadows, unscathed. But deep down, you knew the truth. He was gone.

The grief and rage from Marco’s death propelled you back to the Moretti mansion with a fierce determination to regroup and plan your next move. However, as you approached, the eerie silence and the flickering lights filled you with a foreboding sense of dread. The usually bustling estate was ominously quiet.

You stepped inside, and the scene that greeted you was nothing short of a nightmare. Bodies of Marco’s loyal men and women lay scattered, their lives brutally snuffed out. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood, and your heart sank as you realized that the rival gang had struck again, this time with a devastating blow. 

Suddenly, rough hands grabbed you from behind, yanking you into the main hall where the leader of the rival gang, a menacing figure named Vito Rossi, stood smirking. His henchmen surrounded you, their faces twisted with malicious glee.

“Well, well, look who we have here,” Vito sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. “The infamous queen of the Moretti empire. Too bad your reign ends tonight.”

They tied you to a chair, and Vito leaned in close, his breath hot and rancid against your face. “We’ve taken everything—your money, your power, your family. Now, we’ll take your life.”

Stupid fools, they should have known better than to mess with you. And what they did to the Moretti family, the closest people you deemed family in a long while. People who took you in, accepted your wickedness, welcomed it and loved you for who you are. And they butchered them. Now they think they are going to kill you too? I don't think so.

Your heart pounded with fury, but on the outside you remained calm, closing your eyes you focused on the incantation.

“Blood be still, body freeze, halt their will, bring them to their knees.”

The words rolled off your tongue in a whisper, and a sudden chill filled the room. Vito paused, confusion flickering across his face as the room filled with dread, the feeling of dark magic surrounding them. His men looked around uneasily, their bravado wavering

“What the hell is—” Vito’s question was cut off as his blood began to freeze in his veins. One by one, the gang members’ eyes widened in terror, their bodies locking into place as the spell took hold.

With a flick of your fingers, the ropes binding you to the chair snapped, falling to the floor with a soft thud. You stood, your expression cold and resolute, and walked over to Vito, who was now immobilized, his eyes filled with a mix of horror and disbelief.

“You underestimated me,” you said softly, your voice echoing in the silent room. “And now you’ll pay the price.”

With deliberate steps, you collected the bags of money they had stolen, securing them in a large satchel. The room remained deathly silent, save for the faint clicking of your heels on the tiled floor.

1928, you're sitting on a train, with bags full of cash and a broken life. Heading to New Orleans, changing your appearance, starting a new life. This wasn't the first time you've done this, so why does it hurt to leave? 

Even with the pain of losing someone so important to you, you find yourself happy in a bittersweet way. With deep breath you're ready to create a new life for yourself once more. 

The air is thick with the scent of smoke, mingling with the metallic tang of fear. Dark figures loom around a crackling bonfire, their distorted shapes dancing eerily in the flickering light. Voices rise in a cacophony of chants, their words twisted and distorted, sending shivers down your spine.

Amidst the chaos, a haunting sound cuts through the night air – the heart-wrenching cry of a child, its echoes reverberating through the darkness. You can feel the weight of despair pressing down on you as you strain to shut out the horrifying scene unfolding before you. Your breathing quickens, vision blurs as you drop to the floor. With your eyes trained on the ground, you pull on your ears, trying to ground yourself somehow as you relive the worst thing that happened to you.

Suddenly, there's a sickening gurgle, followed by a woman screaming, and then unsettling silence that hangs heavy in the air like a shroud. Your heart clenches as you realize the depth of the darkness that surrounds this memory, its tendrils reaching out to ensnare you in its grip. With a sense of dread, you shut your eyes tightly, trying to escape the haunting images that threaten to consume you whole.

That's when you feel a pair of hands grip you, yanking you from the deep dark memory. Tears are rolling down your cheeks, your heart rate slowing down as you realize that the Goddess pulled you out of the nightmare. Looking around you find yourself back in the void, Mona close to you, comforting you after the painful reminder of your past. 

“It seems this is not something we're ready to look through. Moving through memories like this can be dangerous if we get too lost in them. They can pull you in, making you relive them forever. I needed to pull you out when you reacted in such a manner.” 

You turn towards the Goddess, slowly coming back to your normal self, pushing down the thoughts of pain and suffering. 

“Was it enough revisiting to know what kind of demon magic I have?” You ask tiredly, hoping that you don't have to jump to another memory again.

“Yes, it will be enough”replied the Goddess.

“So, what kind of magic do I possess?“

“What is it that you've observed my child?” Asked the Goddess.

“I tricked them. I used my words, my magic, my womanly charms and my resourcefulness and fooled all of them. And once I was done, I changed my appearance and my name and moved away, just to do it all over again. Those who deserved my help, I protected fiercely and those who crossed me paid the price.”

“And what kind of power would you possess if this is what you did in life”

“Trickery?” You ask.

The Goddess Mona, with her ethereal glow and an air of timeless wisdom, smiles at your realization. "Indeed, trickery is your gift," she affirms, her voice a melodic whisper that reverberates through the obsidian walls of the training room. "The power of trickery is multifaceted and incredibly potent. Let me explain the abilities you can harness from it."

She raises her hand, and a cascade of shimmering shadows forms a delicate, intricate web in the air. The web is a mesmerizing tapestry, each thread pulsating with a different hue, weaving a vibrant display of color and shadow. The strands are as fine as spider silk, interlacing in complex patterns that shift and shimmer as they move.

"First, you have the ability of Illusions," she begins, her fingers dancing through the threads. "You can manipulate the senses of others, creating images and sounds that deceive and confuse. With practice, you can even craft entire landscapes, making your enemies question their reality."

A thread of silver light glows brighter, and she touches it gently. "Next is Shape-shifting. You have the power to alter your appearance at will, adopting new forms to blend in, evade capture, or mislead. This ability goes beyond mere disguise; you can mimic voices, mannerisms, and even the aura of those you emulate."

The web shifts, and a dark, almost invisible thread comes to the forefront. "Then there is Invisibility. By bending light and shadow, you can render yourself unseen. This can be momentary, a flicker to avoid detection, or sustained to move unseen through the world."

Mona's hand moves to a vibrant, glowing thread of pink. "You also possess Charm and Persuasion. This isn't just about speaking convincingly; you can infuse your words with magic, compelling others to see things your way, believe your lies, or even act against their own interests. With this, you can sway the minds and hearts of those around you."

Finally, she touches a deep crimson thread, pulsating with a dark energy. "And then there is Blood Bending. This is unusual but since you used your blood in your craft while you were alive it is not surprising that you possess this gift. This rare and formidable power allows you to manipulate the blood within living beings. You can control their movements, immobilize them, or even inflict pain. This ability is incredibly dangerous and must be wielded with the utmost caution. It gives you dominion over life itself, turning your enemies into mere puppets under your command."

Mona lets the web dissolve, its threads dissipating like mist. She steps closer, placing a hand on your shoulder, her touch warm and reassuring. "These are your gifts, the powers of trickery. They are tools for survival and conquest. But remember, with great power comes great responsibility. Use them wisely, my child."

“Thank you Goddess, I really appreciate your help” you bow to her in gratitude as the space shifts again, returning to the dark forest. 

“I think it's time you returned to the real world now, child. You should practice your powers.” 

Without much time to process her words, She snaps her finger and you're jolted awake from your bed. 

Oh my, you're quite a powerful demon. 

[rasprasp]

"Happy birthday, ya weak bitch!" Monk nearly busts down Saint's door, startling the furry slugcat.

Saint was acutely aware of his mother opening the door downstairs and greeting a guest, but he was too focused on his homework to wonder who it was. Boy, does he wish he wondered now.

"M-Monk?" Saint internally cringes at his own stutter, but pushes past it. "What are you doing here?"

"What? Is it illegal now to want to visit my best buddy?" A wild, insane grin is spread from cheek to cheek on Monk's face. That emphasis on best buddy drips with venom. Clearly this situation calls for some quick planning on Saint's part. He concentrates on the memories and thoughts of his so-called best buddy.

Anger, overwhelming and flooding, casting a hazy fog over his other thoughts. Survivor, Gourmand, Hunter, Artificer... all coated in a layer of pure resentment.

He's mad at Saint, there's no doubt about it. This is fine. All Saint has to do is keep his cool and respond calmly to whatever Monk does. "There is nothing illegal about that," he responds, about five seconds after Monk spoke. "I appreciate you stopping by to wish me a happy birthday. It's not normally something that's celebrated for me."

Monk's wide smile contracts a bit, making it less disconcerting, but his eyes keep their intensity. "It's nothin'. Y'know, I have a present for you, but I wanna make something clear before I give it to ya."

Saint hadn't noticed, but indeed, Monk is holding his hands behind his back and presumably hiding that present. He stares at the abdomen of the yellow slugcat, practically peering right through them to focus on whatever's in his hands behind-

Monk's grip knocks him away from his imagination and pushes him further into the back of his chair, sending him crashing to the floor with a yelp. Pain fills his nerves, and his neck feels aflame. He hates this weakness of his. But he has no time to dwell on his self-loathing as Monk's face and body fills his vision.

Everything in Saint's being tells him to run. But he's long past those primal instincts, aware that movement would only result in more bruises. Though his eyes are wide and face annoyingly vulnerable, he stays limp beneath Monk's light squeezing of his neck.

"I'm not going to fucking listen to you anymore, Saint." Monk's words are slow, calculated, precise. His tempered breath is hot against Saint's thick fur. "Why would I listen to a damn word you say? You wanted me gone so badly? Fine. I don't need you. I'm awesome without you! You think you're hot shit? Well I'm the motherfucking sun!"

He removes his fingers from Saint's neck. The green slugcat is paralyzed in fear, not by his own accord but by his body's. The one instinct he can't rid himself of. Monk remains on top of Saint for a time, the latter clearly able to tell how much the former is relishing in this moment. Some sort of twisted self-pride in overcoming a tough foe. Perhaps Saint was wrong to think Monk was an easy pawn. No, rather, he was wrong to water the seed of whatever Monk has bloomed into now.

Finally, when his once creepy grin finally drops into a deep frown, the yellow slugcat stands and turns his back to Saint. Next to him sits a tiny, haphazardly wrapped bundle of something. Saint can't think straight; he isn't sure what it is.

Monk turns his head to look over his shoulder and down at Saint. There's some hint of a plead in his tone, as if it's directed more at himself than the slugcat he's looking at. "I don't care. I don't fucking care. Happy birthday, cousin-fucker." He kicks the small package in Saint's direction and walks out of the door.

It is now that Saint realizes this must be his birthday present. Such a small thing, whatever could it be? Shakily, he rips open the paper and... an old razor blade, coated in dried blood, the faint scent of karma flowers stuck to it.

A harsh shiver runs through him, colder than Bitter Aerie, more frozen than a river in a blizzard, and he finds no comfort in the fact that Monk has grown resistant to such a chill, even less in the fact that he is not immune to it even with the thick layers he’s built up.

i wrote this for @letdownthepainful’s birthday lol it’s not canon dw

[we-love-morioh-cho]

I am........a little heated about how Jolyne's mother was treated in the story today esp in contrast to a certain ex husband of hers 🙃, so I decided to post some of my personal ideas and headcanons for her! This is partially based on what little we have of her, but is also very fanfic-y, self-indulgent and may be unkind to Jotaro lol

I have 3 main ideas for her name which I am very indecisive on -

Irene - based on Irene Rapona and alt. Jolyne's name. This would mean that Jolyne's parents put their names together to name her which is cringe but does happen. In the ending, alt. Jolyne now lives free from the Joestar curse (I think?) and so, symbolically, loses the 'Jo-' prefix and just inherits her mother's name whom she's always been closer with anyway.

Dolly - because of Dolly Parton who obvs wrote and sang 'Jolene'. A musical reference and also just a very cute name imo.

Hanna - named after Hanna Thorn, the model who Araki based her design and the pendant photo off of. While Irene and Dolly are based on her relation to Jolyne, this is the only name I could think of more based on herself. I'm not the biggest fan of a female character being named based solely on her connection to someone else BUT we have nothing to work with for this woman and, between the two characters she's connected to, I would much rather her name tie into Jolyne's. I haven't chosen a specific name yet though, I like all 3 ideas atm.

Based on the above reference to a model, I like to think Jolyne's mother is a model or at least works with fashion in some way. While it is a non-canon AU, the 'Jolyne, Fly High with GUCCI' one-shot written by Araki gives us some crumbs to work with. I haven't read it yet, but apparently Jolyne's mother has passed in this story and left Gucci clothing behind for her daughter. She's even customized them to fit Jolyne and, through wearing these clothes, Jolyne feels like she's connected to her mother again 🥺 So yeah, I head canon that she's maybe a fashion designer who models her own clothes.

We're told she's a 'crybaby' and is unwell with stress over Jolyne's situation, so I see her as having some type of anxiety disorder. I think that Jotaro's neglect and Jolyne's delinquency has puts a lot of stress on her along with her career. She's been left in a really difficult situation and it takes its toll on her. Sadly, I could totally see her as one of those women who had to give up on her career dreams due to the pressures of single parenthood, so maybe she's no longer a designer or model. This would add to Jolyne's anger at Jotaro - not just for his neglect of her but also the toll it's taken on her mother. Her not being present during Stone Ocean could be due to health issues to parallel Jotaro's condition and the Gucci one-shot. I think she's generally a quiet and graceful woman and hasn't always been able to stand up for herself much; creative and brilliant but also unsure of herself esp when she was younger.

I'm not gonna dwell on this point too long because it makes me angry, but I don't think her marriage to Jotaro was ever that good. They were both quiet and got along decently, but I don't see much emotional warmth or openness there. Tbh, I question why Jotaro decided to marry and have a child if he was just gonna neglect them due to 'dangers', but who fucking knows lol. Anyway, I think their marriage was distant and sad and Jotaro did not open up with a baby like Jolyne's mother hoped he would. Instead, he left her to do all the hard work, showing a real disregard for her and Jolyne 😒 You'd think he'd be more empathetic to single mothers with absent husbands and wouldn't want to put his own child through that but apparently not! 🙃 I think, before his neglect of Jolyne, she rarely challenged Jotaro and instead accepted whatever he wanted. But when his distance started to include Jolyne, an innocent child who needed him, she had had enough and started demanding better. I think him failing to show up while Jolyne was dying in a hospital was the final straw. She was the one who filed for divorce, and when she demanded custody he didn't contest it.

Moving on - she of course deeply loves her JoJo even with all the hardships and doesn't want her daughter to repeat her parents' mistakes. She's a very accepting mother, encouraging Jolyne to express herself and stand up for herself. She's relieved that Jolyne hasn't inherited her quiet and anxious personality, treasuring how bold and open she can be and always working hard to encourage that. She was always accepting of Jolyne’s emotions, letting her vent and making sure she didn’t repress her feelings. To keep up with her unruly and wild daughter, she became more confident and assertive over time. She had to be a strong woman to raise someone like Jolyne and she found her daughter inspiring during some of her lowest moments. And while she never got the chance to know this, Jolyne was inspired by her in turn.

Even with her anxiety, career and general stress - she does as much as she can to give Jolyne a great childhood. She's happy to dye Jolyne's hair and style it however her daughter wishes. While she's not use to the style in her own fashion, Jolyne's mother does her best to make cute little punk outfits that Jolyne adores and proudly shows off to everyone. She brought Jolyne to a shoot one time, curious if her daughter would be interested, but the girl only got up to trouble and pointed out how uncomfortable and uptight it all seemed. On the drive home, Jolyne expected her mother to be furious or upset but instead she just burst out laughing at her daughter's bold antics and comments. It was clear Jolyne was NOT gonna turn out like her mother and that brought the woman a lot of joy and relief.

Sorry to say, but I think she's a Disney adult 😞 While they don't get to visit too often, I think the duo absolutely go to Disney World when possible and I think Jolyne's mother styled Jolyne's buns to look like Mickey Mouse ears. She is a fanatic for the old princess movies, their dresses inspired her to get into fashion and she watched those films with her own mother so she repeats that tradition with Jolyne. She knows Jolyne doesn't really give a fuck about those old movies and that does make her a bit sad, but it means a lot that Jolyne at least tries to sit still and pay attention as best as a child can. Watching those movies and going to Disney World brings out a new side to her in Jolyne's eyes; her mother seems so giddy, is fine with the large crowds and becomes so emotional over the romances. While Jolyne doesn't understand why her mother likes these movies and does get embarrassed by her obsession sometimes, she usually agrees to go meet the princess actors so that her mother has an excuse to see them as well (plus the park is still a lot of fun and exciting). And yes, her mother does see the actual princesses when Bohemian Rhapsody happens and she cries lol

Jolyne has a phase where she becomes deeply interested in marine life, largely inspired by Jotaro's career and interests. Jotaro took her to an aquarium once or twice and got her a book - she then became obsessed. Part of this enthusiasm was that she wanted to impress Jotaro and connect with him, wanted to find a way to make him stay this time. So Jolyne immersed herself in marine biology and tried very hard to show off her knowledge, desperate for her dad's approval. But he still left and, not wanting Jolyne's genuine interest and enthusiasm to be soured, her mother took time off work to take the girl to an aquarium herself, asking questions so her daughter could tell her at least. Jolyne barely spoke the entire time, and the next day her mother found the marine life book in the trash.

The two are obviously very close, but an absent parent can still be disastrous for a child. That's why Jolyne's delinquency hurts her so much - she really wanted to be enough for Jolyne to stop her going down a bad path, but believes she isn't. She endlessly tries to get through to Jolyne but just doesn't know what to do. Eventually, the lectures and emotional turmoil makes Jolyne a bit distant, especially compared to when she was younger and almost seemed afraid to be away from her mother. She still loves her mother and their relationship isn't bad necessarily, but it is strained and her mother fears one day Jolyne will shut her out like Jotaro. Jolyne's mother holds onto far too much guilt over their family situation and her anxiety is affected terribly. She always did the absolute best that she could and was a fantastic mother even if she didn't always know what Jolyne needed and I will die on that hill.

I hate to even think about her experience during Made in Heaven. Surely, she would've known her ex and daughter were at the center of it - while Jotaro hid a lot from her, I think in that moment she just knew. I'm sure she tried for hours to contact either of them, the phone lines jammed and the roads a dangerous mess. How would anyone have felt during that whole event, let alone a mother worrying for her child? My headcanon is this - despite her condition, anxiety and the sheer risk of going outside, she set out on foot to find Jolyne. She had no direction or idea of where to go but she had to try. She knew the world was ending but she needed to find her daughter no matter what. And sadly, I think she died searching, hoping her JoJo would somehow be OK.

In the new universe, Jolyne's mother is still separated from Jotaro, but I think it ended on much better terms. Irene only mentions visiting her father on the trip, so I assume her mother lives elsewhere. She met another partner and her life is generally freer from hardship and stress. With a partner and Jotaro's help in raising Irene, I like to think she achieved her dreams that she had to give up on in the OG universe. Maybe it's sappy, but I really want to believe that life is just nicer to her in the new universe and that her and her daughter remain as close as ever ❤️

[stellaluna33]

I was asked if I think Rory was really still "in love" with Jess in Season 6 and AYITL, and, well... My answer is a bit... It's complicated. Haha! Do I think she was still actively, consciously IN love with him then? Well, to that particular question I have to say No. But I honestly don't think that's the right question here. I don't think it matters in the long run. Do I think she's completely OVER him and could never be in love with him again? The answer to that is ALSO No. This got a little long, so forgive me!

Is Rory still attracted to Jess? Yes, I think so. Do they still have a deep, intuitive connection? It seems obvious that YES, they do. Milo has said (and I agree) that once you've had as deep of a connection as Rory and Jess had, you never really lose that, and they will always love each other on SOME level. And I absolutely believe that Rory still does, and always will, love Jess in that sense. He's a person that's very important to her and for whom she cares deeply. But that's different, of course, from being IN Love with someone.

The thing is, though, that human relationships and emotions are very changeable and subject to circumstance. While acknowledging that my experiences won't be universal, I think for a lot of people who aren't aroace, the tipping point between platonic and romantic in friendships with people you find attractive can sometimes be a finer line than you might think. (I say SOMETIMES, because I do not quite agree with Harry Burns on this!) I am a woman who is attracted to men, and I've had some friendships with men without feeling anything more than platonic attraction, and I've had other friendships that, well... felt like they could probably go either way, if the circumstances were different. I have to be more careful with those friendships and make the decision not to dwell on feelings of attraction or put myself in situations with too much emotional intimacy, because which side of the line we're on is largely circumstantial. We CHOOSE not to think of each other as romantic prospects. (In the same way that I CHOSE to commit to my husband and continue to make that choice every day.) And that? That is the kind of "friendship" Rory and Jess have. They treat each other as friends because they have made the decision to treat each other as friends, because they currently (as of the Revival) believe that to be for the best and/or to respect the other person's perceived wishes. This is easier because they haven't been spending a lot of time together (perhaps even intentionally). Physical and emotional distance makes it easier to maintain emotional boundaries. If they were in a situation that had them spending a lot more time together, though? (Say, if they had "a work thing" between them...) I absolutely believe they might be teetering on the edge of that fence again. All it would take is a push in the right direction. As for personal differences between them, Rory has always been very good at compartmentalizing her feelings and not dwelling on them. Jess, however, is much less so. He dwells. (OHHHH, he dwells!) That's just their personalities. But I honestly think Jess had probably been attempting to move on too (I have real life friends who were in this situation, now married, but I'll talk about that another time.)

Now how does Logan fit into this? Well, in Season 6, it was complicated. Rory was officially Logan's girlfriend, and her allegiance (however shaky) tends to be to her official boyfriend (she couldn't bring herself to break up with Dean either). Her attraction to Jess was still pretty obvious, however (Logan definitely picked up on it), and that one encounter resulted in Rory and Logan separating (or breaking up, depending on who you asked or when...). 6.18 is more complicated, but my opinion is NOT that Rory went to Philly to intentionally "use" Jess. She SAID she "just wanted to see [his] place, but then... this." That doesn't sound like a plan to me. I think she found herself teetering on the edge of that attraction that's ALWAYS there between them, thought, "And why shouldn't I give in? Logan certainly would..." but then couldn't go through with it. Because yeah, she COULD fall in love with Jess again if she let herself, but she WAS still in love with Logan already, even though she didn't want to be anymore. She was still in a committed relationship with Logan, and it was a sexual one. It's not really popular right now to talk about the bonding aspects of sex (oxytocin release, etc.), but it is legitimately a thing for some people. Some people cannot separate the physical act of sex from emotional attachment, and the show had established that Rory was one of those people. She could not (in college at least) do "casual," and she'd been having sex with him for over a year.

The affair in AYITL is something else again. Because while I've said that Rory wasn't "in love" (yet?) with Jess in the Revival, I actually don't think she was really still in love with Logan either. Alexis Bledel herself said that she thought Rory was just "going through the motions" and clinging to something familiar and comfortable, and I agree. And this is (unfortunately) in character for Rory. Her life was spinning out of control (her grandfather dying, her career uncertain) and she was clinging to the emotional familiarity of Logan, the same way she clung to Dean when her life was in upheaval in Season 4, and she didn't do that because she was "still in love with Dean" (even though she convinced herself she was. She had to). Rory (for the first time maybe ever?!) was the one to end things with Logan in the Revival. I do think she'll probably always love him a little, in the same way she'll always love Jess a little (that kind of Love is ever-expanding), but she wasn't IN Love with him anymore and... It just wasn't right, and she knew it. Their goodbye was bittersweet, but she didn't seem heartbroken, she seemed at PEACE with letting go of him and ready to move on with her life. Love can be overpowering, it's true, but... It also has so much more to do with circumstance and personal choice than we sometimes want to admit. So, yeah. No, Rory and Jess aren't "in love" in AYITL. But in my 30+ years of life experience, that doesn't really mean a dang thing.

[belaprus]

Dottore x reader: being his assistant (pt.6)

"Why did you call me here?"

"You know, that little assistant you gave me... so capable of her work and all... So. Who is she?"

"..."

"I mean, you couldn't possibly make me think that a woman with two visions would be the average Fatui rookie, right? But I've never seen or heard of her. So spit it out."

It was no option. Pantalone wasn't disturbed at all, since he had planned to tell him at some point:

"She's an Akademiya outcast... Much like you"

His eyes lit up, for but a fraction of a second: "What for?"

"She was the first one who had tried to heal the mad scholars, going off to the desert just for the sake of knowledge. She was obviously radiated"

"Delving beyond the universe and attempting the forbidden, I guess. Is that all?"

"She's very simpathetic. For four full years, she has lived with the mad scholars and acted like them. Most people thought she had gone mad too, but she was just getting into their comfort zone to observe them thoroughly. The moment she was cast out from the Akademiya, she had already realized there was nothing more to learn about them... and that's about when I found her. I gave her something new to explore"

"How much did you tell her about me?"

Pantalone smiled, a tint of malice in his eyes:

"What she knows about you is beyond my grasp. Ever since she joined, all she cared about was getting to know every bit of you. Most of the information, she found out by herself. I liked that about her: she obsesses herself over something, and when she's got the gist of it she would move on to antoher subject. Luckily for her, she doesn't have any malicious intentions... Unlike us, she really just wants to know. If you think about it, it's no wonder I chose her to be your assistant"

Was it all she cared about? Digging into his private life... And he didn't even know how much she had already found out. He was getting anxious just by the thought: much to his disppointment, he still was in bad terms with his past, especially now that his clones were gone. What if she had talked to them? He wouldn't be able to know now. And obviously Pantalone feeding on that very knowledge wasn't the ideal situation. Though he couldn't blame her - they were quite similar, when it came to curiousity -, her being curious about HIM was something that he couldn't help but feeling unsettled about.

Pantalone could read right through his mind, and his smile was widening by every passing minute:

"I guess you will have to do a “background check” on her too, right?"

Dottore had understood his words instantly, but Pantalone's expression was implying something else: ‘are you capable of doing it?’. And here he was, dwelling between the only two possibilities: asking Pantalone or asking her, what she knew about himself. The former would be a blow to his pride, plus it would be a hassle to eventually take Pantalone out and it would confirm the girl to be a weak spot, which would put his only assistance in finding ingredients in danger... Plus, there was the remote possibility that his colleague really didn't know. The latter was the more rational one, but he felt like she would take advantage of it somehow - he didn't want to know how. For the moment, he had decided on the lesser evil:

"It will be done. But if she ever mentions you telling her of any sensible topic, you're six feet underground"

"Don't you trust me, comrade?"

"Tch"

With that, each one returned to their own affairs.