#Best architectural speakers

[watthifi]

Explore the benefits of architectural speakers in India. Discover how they enhance sound quality and aesthetics while saving space in your home or outdoor area. Learn about installation tips and factors to consider when choosing the best options for your audio needs.

[writteninkat]

HEADCANON: MHA MEN SPOILING YOU

w/ Bakugou, Kirishima, Todoroki, Hawks, Endeavor

warnings: none just mha men being rich<3

navigation

KATSUKI BAKUGOU

"Hey, where are you?" You hear you husband's rough voice spill through the speakers of your phone, your eyelids shaking at the eyelash extensions being pressed down and glued on your water line.

"Getting my lashes done."

"Anything else planned?" He asks, making you purse your lips in thought.

"My whole day's packed, actually. I already went to my facial appointment. I'm getting my nails and hair done after this. Maybe a little shopping if I have the energy. Oh! I'll probably get a massage too!" You rant, smiling as you imagine the perfect selfcare day.

"Alright. You think you'll have enough energy for dinner after all that?" You giggle and hum, "Uhuh! I always have energy for you baby."

"That's good to hear. Have fun today baby, I love you."

"I love you more."

You hear three beeps and you hear your lashtech giggle.

"Hero Dynamight is portrayed as this scary, rough guy in the media, but he's actually very sweet." She swoons, making your chest swell with pride.

"He is, actually. One time-"

You're cut off by your phone buzzing, followed by your lashtech gasping. Unable to open your eyes, you stretch your arms out. "What? What happened?!"

"Hero Dynamight he..." She gasps.

"He what?!" You yell, your chest caving in as every horrible thought crosses your mind.

Did he get injured during a fight?

How badly is he injured?

Is he...?

"Dammit, Ari! Tell me what's happening!" You demand, about to sit up from the bed.

"He just sent you two million yen..." She breathes out, making you release a sigh.

"Fucking Christ. I thought something happened." You whisper, relaxing back onto the bed. "Did he say why?"

"'Refunding you for you facial appointment. The rest are for your other plans. Call if you need more. I love you baby.'" She read aloud, causing a smile to stretch across your face.

"He's the sweetest." You swoon.

EIJIROU KIRISHIMA

You look around the villa, eyes sparkling and head over the moon at how beautiful it is. The Spanish colonial architecture is beautiful, the ceilings high, the wood floors shiny and waxed, and the arched windows big enough for you to show a tree from the tops of its leaves down to its roots burrowed down the soil.

"It's so pretty, baby!" You giggle, twirling around the foyer of the villa you'll be spending your two weeks in.

Finally, Eijirou was able to grab a two-week break from hero work. The two of you have been busting your asses off, protecting cities and taking down villains.

This time, you made sure your schedules synced when it came to time to making time for each other.

"You like it?" He asks, hugging you from behind.

You turn your head to the side, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "I love it, baby. This'll be the best vacation ever. Just the two of us. Happy and in love." You smile, giggling at his cheeks slowly turning into a crimson colour.

And just as you said, your two-week vacation was a bliss. The both of you drank and ate, made love, swam in the private pool, in the private beach, cuddled during movies, played video games, board games, explored the small town near the villa- everything was perfect.

As you sit on your spot in the hero's private plane, a white folder on the table catches your eye. With curiousity tickling your fingers, you open it, your gaze immediately falling to your husband's familiar signature. Your brows knit as you bring your eyes back up to the top of the document, reading it.

This letter of Intention to Offer is made and effectively by...

Property Address...

Purchaser Address...

Purchaser Contact...

Dear Mr. Kirishima Eijirou...

Please accept this bid purchase to...

For the amount of...

"Eight million euros?!" You scream, clutching on the document.

Eijirou rushes out of the private bedroom inside the jet, his eyes wide with worry as he inspects you. "What's wrong?!" He worries.

"Why the hell did you buy the villa?!" You scream, now your eyes are wide with worry.

"You said you loved it." He shrugs.

Your head pulses with the need to close your eyes. You can feel your blood pressure rising at this stupid, idiotic, irresponsible...sweet, lovely, man.

"Where the hell are you getting eight million euros?" You sigh, finally looking up at the man who foolishly spoils you rotten.

"The same place I was getting eighty million yen for the yacht you wanted..." He looks at you like you're stupid.

"Why the hell did you buy a yacht on top of a villa, Eijirou?"

"You said you wanted the boat!" He exclaims, forcing you to rack your brain for the memory of when you said that.

"I said it was pretty! Not that I wanted it!" You exclaim, your face scrunching up in stress. "Where on earth are you getting your money!"

The red head simply smiles, engulfing you with his strong arms in a warm, tight embrace. "I'm one of the top heros in the world, baby. And I've been in this game for decades now. It's safe to say I've got more money than we both can possibly need." He reasons, his lips pressing against the top of your head.

"Plus, property investments are good!" You roll your eyes at the stupidly sweet man you call your husband, your heart searing as your gaze catches onto another document with the words 'Land Ownership' and your name printed not far from it.

SHOTO TODOROKI

An evil grin stretches across your face as you point at every pretty thing your eyes fall on. You don't break your stride as you enter and exit shops in under a minute.

"That." You point at an adorable bag inside a shelf. "That, too." You point at the one beside it.

"These shoes in my size. These too. Ooo! And these as well." You hand the shoes over to your assistant, letting her pass them over to the store clerk.

You exit the shop, leaving one body guard behind as you enter the store beside it. This one's a gadget store.

"You think it's time to upgrade my devices?" You ask, playing with the showcased device on the table. You turn to your side, eyeing your husband's assistant, seeing tears comically strem down his cheeks.

"Please, madam! You've spent so much already!" He cries, "What on earth did Mr. Todoroki's money ever do to you?"

"It's not his money, it's him in general. He hasn't been spending time with me as of late. I'm getting bored." You pout, nodding at a store clerk before point at different gadgets, one of each kind.

"All those, if you have them in pink, but if not, I'll get them in black. The biggest memory you have, please. Along with accesories. Pink." You order before leaving the store once more, entering another booth selling watches in insane prices.

"Madam, Mr. Todoroki is a pro hero-"

"And I'm not?" You glare at the employee. "I work as much hours as he does. I'm just as demanded, I'm just as busy, and I'm just as tired as he is. And yet, I can always make time for him back at home."

You know you're being a bit too unreasonable. But you've grown bored and lonely. And you'd rather die than take another lover. So Shoto's bank account it is.

"He'd have a heart attack if he saw all the withdrawals." The assistant worries as you ponder over two watches displayed in front of you.

"If my husband suffers from cardiac problems due to my spending, then he shouldn't have taken being a pro hero as a job." You point at the silver and blue Patek Philippe. "This one please." You tell the sales woman who smiles at you as she nods softly.

You check your own watch to see you've been at it for hours now. Almost time for dinner.

Maybe I should pay my busy husband a visit.

You roll your eyes.

You stretch your arms up above you, letting out a yawn as your muscles finally relax.

Your last stop is a five star restaurant right beside the mall.

Shoto scribbles on a few papers, hating how he's been leaving his wife alone for multiple nights. Knowing her, she'll have his ass if this goes on for too long.

He sighs, stretching his up above him, feeling his back crack. His head pulses and the need to see his wife waves over him in strong currents.

Right as he's about to resume his paper work, his phone buzzes in a call, his financial advisor's name flashing the screen.

Shoto answers the call with one hand, the other elegantly scribbling on the paper. "What is it?"

"Sir, I think your card's been stolen. There have been numerous deductions, all huge amounts." Shoto furrows his brows, taking his wallet out from his pocket. Sure enough, his black Master is missing.

A tickling feeling grows in his gut. "From which shops?"

He hears a few clicks from the other line, "These are all luxury brands. Miu Miu? Coach? LV, Prada, Bottega Veneta, Chanel, Dior, Philippe Patek- The thief may be a woman, sir."

"You're right. A woman. My woman." Shoto sighs, chuckling softly. "How much did my wife spend?"

"A little over two hundred million yen." Shoto can hear the wince in his advisor's tone, making him grin.

Sure, his wife's a kickass pro hero, and she makes just as much money as he does. But nothing compares to her spending ability with the cute little side talent of not touching her own bank account.

Just as he's about to give out an order, said wife enters his office without knocking, a familiar paper bag in her hands.

"Brought you dinner from that favorite restaurant of yours." She lifts the bag, striding over to him.

"She seems to have been having a little tantrum because I haven't been giving her the attention she deserves." He smirks at her, "Run it through."

"You talk shit about me to your employees?" The love of his life pouts as he chuckles deeply, standing from his seat. He places his hands on his wife's hips, softly pulling her towards him, giving her lips a gentle peck.

"Never. I was just explaining to them why I lost millions of yen in a day." His joke earns him a playful glare from his wife.

KEIGO TAKAMI

You complained to Keigo once. Once. That you were tired.

It was six am that morning when you woke up like you hadn't slept at all. You didn't have muscle sores or a headache nor were you sick. You were simply tired.

By nine am, the pro hero had written you a sick leave, carried you onto his private jet, and the both of you were now flying over beautiful blue waters.

"Keigo-" He cuts you off by shushing you, lifting a finger up in the air. He pulls you towards the private room located at the back of the jet where a massage table has been set up, along with ambient spa music and a masseus in the corner with her hands clasped together and her head bowed down. The room smelled of peppermint and lavender.

"We'll land in twelve hours. You can request anything else after the massage." You don't get a chance to respond because he leaves the room, closing the door gently.

You and the masseus look at each other before she lets out an amused chuckle. "He seems to spoil you so."

You sigh, "He overdoes it, but I know he means well."

Eleven hours later, you've gotten a mani pedi, a simple and refreshing facial, your muscles are relaxed, you've eaten two square meals, and had the longest nap of your life.

Now you're seated in front of your husband, sipping your champagne in your soft, fluffy robe as he reads his magazine.

"Keigo, will you finally tell me where you're taking me?" You sigh, watching him look at you through his golden eye lashes. He smirks, setting his magazine down as he pulls the window cover up.

You squint at the sudden brightness but your eyes quickly adjust. You blink a few times, moving towards the window, taking a peek.

"You took me to Greece?!" You exclaim, seeing the familiar white walls and blue roofs.

"My baby said she was tired." He mused, "And we can't have that."

You open your mouth in protest, but a sound cuts before you. "Mr. and Mrs. Takami, we'll be landing shortly. Please return to your seats and fasten your seat belts, thank you."

You glare at your husband one last time before buckling up, letting out an annoyed huff as you keep your eyes on the window.

"Jesus..." You breath out, craning your head up to look at the domed ceiling. Your gaze drags down, moving from side to side as you inspect the large arched windows and marbled floors.

Keigo weaps his arms from behind you, breathing in your scent. "You know you didn't have to fly me anywhere. That spa day was exactly what I needed. I could've gotten it back in Japan."

"Yeah," Keigo squints, softly pushing you towards the glass double doors leading to the balcony. "But you wouldn't have been able to enjoy this view afterwards."

The scene of the vast blue ocean with the sun slowly dipping down is breath taking. Accompanied by the soft glow of yellowish lights, the chirping of a few birds here and there, and the smell of the ocean has you claiming this place to be paradise.

"I love it..." I mumbled, captivated by the beauty of the sunset.

"More than me?"

You turn your head to the side, pressing your lips softly on your husband's cheek. "No, never more than you, my love."

Keigo smiles, pressing a soft peck on your lips before slowly letting his arms fall, his hand delicately holding your hand.

"Come with me." He tugs you back inside, leading you up the grand marble staircase and inside what looks like the master bedroom.

"Close your eyes." He whispers in your ear and you immediately follow his order. Slowly leading you somewhere, you hear a soft click of a door. "Open."

You blink once, twice, before your jaw drops to the floor. You're right outside a huge walk in closet, and inside is one of the biggest boquet of elden roses formed into a heart. Surrounding it are paper bags with different kinds of designer brands printed on them. Behind the boquet is a round marble table with different boxes of leather, some kept closed and some open, revealing shiny watches and jewelry, ranging from silver, gold, and white gold.

"Keigo..." You breathe out, taking a careful step inside before turning around to face your husband. Your eyes feel like they're about to bulge out of their sockets and your haw about to fall off.

"Not now." You shakes his head, quickly stopping you as if he knows what you're about to do. "Pick an outfit and we'll leave in an hour." He presses a light kiss on your forehead before leaving you alone with your gifts.

Feeling as though you've been spoiled rotten, you take your time going through your numerous gifts, deciding to wear every dress you come across, but quickly change your mind when you find another one.

Your husband may be a pro hero, but his true talent is picking out beautiful dresses for you.

You decide on a wine red silk dress, revealing your back, pairing it with strappy silver heels, a diamond encrusted choker, and diamond earings that hang right below your chin. You make up is a simple smokey eye with a bold dark red lip. Your hair curled and pinned up into a bun, the front swept to the side.

You step out of the room and onto the top of the staircase, looking down to see Keigo already in a suit and waiting. He looks up, eyes sparkling when they settle on you. Your heart bursts of affection- he always does this. Whether you dress to the highs or like a beggar, he looks at you like you're the most beautiful thing he's ever laid his eyes on.

Feeling your cheeks flush, you slowly climb down the steps, your husband meeting you at the bottom. He drinks you up slowly, his chest rising before shakily lowering back.

"Beautiful..." He whispers, soft fingers caressing your cheek.

"Thank you." You kiss his open palm, leaving a lipstick stain. "What are we having for dinner?"

Keigo's eyes are stuck on you lipstick stain and you watch his throat swallow. "May I have you instead?" He asks, his eyes filled with heat, making you chuckle.

"No, you may not, because I'm hungry for some real food." You cup his cheek for a moment before stepping to the side, making your way to the waiting car in the driveway.

He takes you to a restaurant that serves an array of european dishes. Not long after, you have a food baby and are tipsy on what you claim to be the best wine you've ever drank.

By the time you finish, you decide to take a little walk around the small town. His suit jacket hangs on your shoulders with your clasped together.

You try to hold it in, but the searing pain from your feet makes you hiss and wobble. Keigo immediately catches you, "What's wrong?"

You sigh, looking up at him with a pout. "My feet hurt. Heels are too high."

Keigo smirks before getting down on one knee.

"We're already married." Your reminder earns you a hearty laugh from him.

"I'm trying to undo your shoes, dummy."

"Oh."

He swiftly undoes the clasps of your heels, taking the pair. Before you take another step forward, he scoops you in his arms, your immediately wrapping themselves around his neck.

"Keigo?"

"Hold on tight, love." He whispers.

You get a second to process what he means by that before his wings stretch out, pushing the both of you off the ground.

"Keigo!" You scream, tightly clutching onto him as he laughs loudly.

"Shouldn't you be used to this by now?" He yells through the air.

"I'm full and I'm drunk! You're gonna make me throw up!" You yell.

He simply laughs, his arms holding you possessively onto his chest. "Not yet, my love."

You look up at him questioningly before finding the courage to look down, enraptured by the beauty of the city below you. Before you know it, you catch a glimpse of the shoreline before dark blue waters meet your gaze.

"If you drown me, you'll be the worst husband ever." You frown, receiving a snicker from Keigo.

"Don't worry, love. We're almost there." At his words, you look infront of you, noting how the angry waters eventually grow calm until finally, they're as still as mirrors. Scratch that, they're exactly like mirrors.

The stars twinkle and shine brightly above you, as well as below you. It's as if you're in outer space. The sight around you is exquisit, bewitching, alluring, captivating—it's divine. You see millions upon million of stars all around you. Tears fill the corners of your eyes at the tantalizing scene.

Keigo looks at you and you feel him slowly lower you, right above the water. "Lower your feet for me." His request has you immediately dropping your feet.

He hovers the both of you just above the water, only your tippy toes grazes the top of the water, creating a circular ripple effect, making the stars in its reflection dance.

"Beautiful..." You gasp, charmed by the sight.

"Not as much as you." Keigo mutters, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead. "I love you."

"I love you more."

"Love?" You call out.

He hums in response, the silence relaxing.

"How much did you spend just today?"

You feel your husband freeze at your question. It's incredible how Keigo's spending problem only occurs when you're involved.

"You want me to sugarcoat it or-"

"Give it to me straight."

"A little over a hundred yen..."

You look up at him, unamused. "Keep lying."

"A hundred... Thousand?" He offers, averting his gaze.

"You take me for an idiot?"

Keigo sighs, burying his nose on the top of your head. "Million."

You huff out an irritated breath before melting back onto your husband. He's lavish when it comes to you, but it's one of the few ways he likes to show you off.

ENJI TODOROKI

Your heart pitter-patters on your chest as you squeeze your gold clutch tightly. You're nervous- and it's justifiable. You've had the fattest crush on your boss ever since you were hired as his secretary, and when he was invited to an auction with the choice to invite a plus one, he chose you. Warranted, you are his secretary, so he may need some assistance.

Stop being delusional. This is your job. Be professional.

But your flaming cheeks aren't listening to your brain. Your dress feels too tight, and your skin feels like it's been lit on fire but the cold breeze of the night cools it down.

I'm gonna end up sick.

Just as you're calming yourself down, you see a black sedan stop right in front of your lawn. You quickly make your way towards the car, opening the door only to be greeted by a strong scent of expensive perfume with a hint of musk. Your eyes immediately fall onto the one man you can't have.

He's tapping away at his phone and you can't stop the wave of disappointment engulfing you. You wanted to see his reaction to the dress you picked out.

Stop it, he has a family for Christ's sake!

You silently hop on. As soon as you close your door, the car speeds off.

"This auction is also a masquerade." He mentions, pushing a black eye mask towards you. Despite being black, it sparkles under low light.

Black glitters.

Did he find out the kind of dress you were gonna wear? The masks suits it perfectly.

As you inspect the mask, you steal a glance at him to see he's still on his phone. Rejection clenches at the stupid muscle in your chest, but you try your hardest to ignore it. You put on your mask, softly tying the black ribbon at the back of your head to keep it on.

A few minutes of silent torture passes by until bright lights finally engulf the car. "We're here, sir." The driver announces.

Endeavor taps away at his phone for a few more moments before pocketing it, letting out a tired sigh. Both passenger doors are opened and a young man in a simple black and white suit offers you his hand. As soon as you're about to take it, a bigger, much rougher hand pushes it away.

"I'll help my date down myself. Thanks." Endeavor's voice is rough and deep, but that isn't what makes you gawk at him.

"Date?" You repeat his word, making him look at you. The blue eyes under his red mask brighten when his gaze finally drops on you.

He looks at you from your mask down to your toes, and back up. He does so slowly, that even after you've placed your hand on his, he doesn't budge. Doesn't make a peep. The only thing moving is his eyes drinking you in slowly. And the movement of his throat as he swallows.

Welcome to another episode of: I'm not delusional! I swear my boss thinks I'm hot aswell!

Finally, Endeavor clears his throat. He steps to the side, allowing you to hop off the car. The cameras' flashes increase when the paparazzi notice that Pro Hero Endeavor has brought a date.

"Endeavor! Who's your date??"

"Is she someone special?"

"Is your date being paid?"

The both of you walk through the red carpet as questions are being yelled at.

"Your family back home will see you've brought a date! How do you think they'll feel?"

Your head snaps at the direction of the voice, your eyes scanning the crowd for a moment before they finally settle on a bald guy. You slip your hand from Endeavor's, striding towards the nosy fuck before quickly grabbing the lense of his camera. Your crush it in one easy squeeze, silence falling among everybody else.

"You're here to take pictures. You already know you aren't getting answers from us, so why set yourselves up for failure?" You glare across the crowd of people, making sure your words aren't directed towards baldy alone. "Snap your pictures, send them to your employers, and shut the fuck up."

Your eyes return to baldy once more, noting the sheer sweat forming all over his head. "Send the bill over to Endeavor's secretary, she'll take care of it." You tell him before flicking the bits of camera you have on your hand.

Returning to Endeavor, you hook your arm on his, and continue walking, waving and smiling for the cameras as if you aren't anxious about what you just did.

Did I do good?

Is he upset I did that?

He hasn't said anything.

Fuck, I won't have a job tomorrow. Great job, self! You've just lost an incredibly high-paying job that allows you to be close with the love of your life.

The big double doors open, revealing a dimly lit opera house. A lot of people are already inside, all of them in full glamour.

"You didn't have to do that." Endeavor finally speaks up, making you swallow nervously.

"Yeah well, I didn't like how he asked that question. As if you're doing something wrong..." Your voice is soft and unsure as you keep your gaze on the carpeted floor. You've settled on allowing your boss to lead you towards your seats.

"Don't you think what I'm doing is wrong?"

His wuestion has you snapping your neck at him, your eyes wide with worry. Does he think that?

"You're divorced, aren't you? And- and they don't know who I am. I don't think this is bad publicity at all." You defend, watching as he side eyes you.

"Anything with me is bad publicity." He mumbles, warm irritation bubbling in your chest as you clench your fist closed.

"Stop that." You demand, finally arriving at your seats.

"Stop what?" His questions goes unanswered for a few moments as you take in the private booth at the top floor. It's only the two of you here, with a button in the middle. Probably for when the client wants to bid.

"Stop putting yourself down. Yes, you've made mistakes. Big ones. Huge ones. But it isn't late for you to change and make up for it all." You look up at him with wide, genuine eyes. "You already admitted your mistakes. All that's left now is to try your damnest to make up for it, to make it up to all the people you've wronged. But you gotta do it with a genuine heart and pure intentions."

Endeavor looks at you with wide eyes, his blue orbs like the color of the sea during the peak of summer. You hold his gaze for a second,

two seconds

three-

The lights dim, grabbing you attention to the stage below.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen."

The first few items were boring, so you don't blame Endeavor for not making a bid. A few paintings and tables presented here and there, maybe a couple properties. You feel your eyelids growing heavy until a necklace is presented under the spotlight.

The blue saphire stones completely surround the neckline, and a big red ruby stands out dead center. It looks heavy and too extravagant to wear anywhere you'd go. But it reminds you of your big, quiet boss.

"It's beautiful." You gasp, unable to look away from the piece.

"Up next, we have an exquisite piece that will undoubtedly ignite a bidding war: a mesmerizing blue sapphire rose, intricately crafted with petals that glisten like the ocean depths. At the heart of this stunning bloom rests a fiery red ruby pendant, its vibrant hue creating a captivating contrast. This one-of-a-kind piece combines the tranquility of sapphire with the passionate allure of ruby, set in the finest platinum. A true masterpiece of luxury and elegance, perfect for any discerning collector." The host's voice echoes throught the room.

"Ladies and gentlemen, who will start the bidding for this unparalleled gem at eight million yen?" Immediately, you hear buttons being pressed, with the host yelling out numerous numbers.

"Eight million yen to bidder number twenty-seven!"

"Ten million yen to bidder number forty!"

"Eleven million yen to bidder number thirty-five!"

The price goes higher and higher, making you dizzy. You snap out of your lightheaded state when you see your boss press his button.

"Fifty million yen." He mutters to the microphone, making your heart drop.

Who's he giving that to?

Is there a woman in his life I don't know about?

Maybe it's an apology gift to his wife.

No, he wouldn't be that cheap about it.

"Fifty million yen to bidder number fourteen! Does anybody wish to go higher?" The room is dead silent. "Fifty million going once," Still, nobody makes a peep. "Fifty million going twice." Nada. "Sold! To bidder number fourteen at fifty million yen!"

"I can't believe you just did that." You breathe out, in the brink of a panic at the thought of losing fifty mil in a night.

Endeavor keeps his eyes up front, making you mirror his actions. You feel squirmish in your seat.

The next few items are as boring as the first ones, until your eyes catch a red fur coat on a mannequin. It's as red as Endeavor's hair, and it looks softer than the softest fur in the world.

"Prepare yourselves, esteemed bidders, for a truly unparalleled offering: a one-of-a-kind crimson fur coat. This extraordinary garment exudes opulence and sophistication, crafted from the finest fur of the Crimson Frost Lynx, a legendary creature said to roam the forests of the North." Your brows furrow at the statement.

Aren't those Lynxes extinct?

"Its rich, deep crimson hue is unlike anything you’ve seen, making a bold and timeless statement. Lined with luxurious silk, this coat is not just a piece of clothing but a work of art. Perfect for the most discerning fashion aficionado, it promises to turn heads and capture hearts. Let's open the bidding for this exclusive masterpiece at twelve million yen. Who will claim this ultimate symbol of luxury?" As the announcer ends, only a few buttons are pressed this time.

"Twelve million yen to bidder number thirty-eight! Does anybody wish to go higher?"

"Fifteen million yen to bidder number twenty!"

Once again, Endeavor presses his button, mumbling "Twenty million."

"Twenty million yen to bidder number fourteen!" As the house quiets, the announcer scans the crowd. "Twenty million yen going once' Twenty million yen going twice!"

A soft buzz sounds, your head snapping to its direction. It came from the booth right beside you.

"Twenty five million yen to bidder number fifteen!"

Endeavor presses his button once more, mumbling a headache-inducing "Thirty million."

"Thirty million yen to bidder number fourteen! Thirty million going once! Thirty million going twice! Sold! To bidder number fourteen!" The confusion is written across your face as you turn to your boss.

"A necklace, and now a furcoat? Sir if you wanna crossdress-"

He holds a finger up, effectively silencing you. You bite on your lower lip, huffing when you hear a knock to your right. The both of you turn to the sound.

"Who are those gifts for, Endeavor? Got a new lady friend?"

Hawks.

"Mind your own business." Endeavor grits out before returning his gaze to the stage.

You can't help but feel anxious about the other Hero's question.

Who are the gifts for?

Whenever her eyes twinkle, I can't help but press the button. It's like a magnet and my finger's made of metal. My eyes have been shifting to her everytime a new item is shown, and everytime I get a reaction of awe, my button is immediately pressed.

My secretary should be off-limits. If I were to ever make a move on her, it'd be as obvious as the sun and the backlash would be unforgiving. But my want for her seems to outweigh reason.

Fuck tha backlash. This woman is meant for me.

I can see it in the way she sees me.

When the auction ends, I offer my hand to her once again and we make our way to different offices meant for different bidders. Privacy is their utmost importance here, so I don't have to worry about other people looking at my woman.

"Good evening, Mr. Todoroki. This is your billing for tonight." The man hands a sheet of paper to Endeavor and you take a peek at it.

Two necklaces, a bracelet, a ring, a set of earrings, two more fur coats, a vase, and three porcelein statues of cats.

"Five-" Your eyes nearly bulge out of your sockets. "Five hundred million yen?! Sir, please excuse me, but you do not shit out money." You chastise, your brows knitting in worry.

"Stop yelling, I'm right beside you." Your boss huffs, pulling out a check. He scribbles the amount on it before his signature, sliding it towards the man behind the counter.

"Let's go, I'm tired." Endeavor turns around, walking towards the door. You run after him, struggling in your heels but eventually reach him.

"Oh! Mr. Todoroki! Shall we deliver the goods to your office or your home?" The man calls out.

Your boss stops in his tracks, craning his head to you.

"My assistant will write down her address for you. Deliver it there."

Your jaw falls, it's like your brain has disconnected from your body. "What? No! Just get it delivered to whoever you were gifting them to!"

Endeavor raises a brow, tilting his head to the side. "That's exactly what I'm doing." He says it as if you were an idiot.

"You- I'm sorry?"

"Apology accepted. Make sure you wear that necklace tomorrow night." He pushes the door open, walking down the marbled floors of the foyer.

"What's happening tomorrow night?" You ask, out of breath as you continue to struggle in your heels.

"We're going on a date."

And your heart does a backflip, lifting a middle finger up to the world. Fuck you all! I told you I wasn't delusional!

[click here to read endeavor having his way with you in the private booth]

[royal-wren]

Hestia, goddess of the hearth (of flame/fire), of the home, sacrifices, of buildings, of architecture, of festivities/parties/feasts. The Goddess found at the center of every room sadly does not have a lot of remaining epithets to her name, so I will attempt to give her more that ties into her domains.

Aidios - Eternal

Kloomorphos - Verdant

Polymorphos - Multi-Formed

Polyolvos - Rich in Blessings

Potheinotati - Beloved

Prytaneai - Of the Prytaneion/Prytaneis (Prytaneum, Town Hall)

Basileia - Queen

Boulaia - Of the Council

Rheia eukomos thugater - Daughter of rich-haired Rheia

Parthenos - Maiden

Khrysothronos - Golden-Throned (Of the Golden Throne/With Throne of Gold)

Pyribromos - Roaring with Fire

Pyrimarmaros - Sparkling Like Fire

Pyristephēs - Fire-Wreathed/Fire-Crowned Xenia - Hestia of Hospitality, Hestia of the Guest, Hestia of Friendship, Hestia of the Foreigner, Hestia the Protector (of Protection). The goddess that looks after everyone, who is generous, benevolent, she who is epichthonic in nature, closest to man who dwells closest to us and supports us endlessly in all our endeavors, she who gifts and gives without a second thought with much joy. Everyone will find her presence so warm, peaceful, and calming.

Philia - Hestia of Friendship.

Agathe Thea - The Good Goddess.

Arkhitríklinos - Lit. The Superintendent of a Banquet. Governer(Ruler) of the Banquet/Master of the Feast/Director of a Feast/Who Presides at the Table

Panakhaia - Of all the Greeks. Common to, or worshipped by all the Hellenes. While in the modern day we aren't any of the above for a good chunk of worshippers, I think we can all agree to apply the sentiment and use it simply as "Common to all and Worshipped by All."

Hypate (Hup��tē)/Hypsistos (Hypsiste) - Supreme, Most High.

Ktêsia - Of the House/Property

Ekkleisíā/Ekklēsíā - Hestia of the Political Assembly. Lit. Gathering of Those Summoned, basically an assembly of the people convened at the public place of the council for the purpose of deliberating. In place of Guardian of Parliments

Prôtogonê - First Born

Presveira - Oldest/The Oldest

Próti kaì Eskhátēs - First and Last (Chances are that I did butcher this one, I'm just trying my best here)

Mêkhanitis - Skilled in Inventing. As the one who provides a roof over everyone's heads, the gift to make buildings and homes to live in and dwell in. The one who shares the gift Hermes created with so many of us, and the means to avoid the harshest of storms and weather.

Sekos - Of the Courtyard, or Of Sanctuaries. A Sekos (plural: Sekoi) was a sacred enclosure, sanctuary, or cella in a temple.

Lā́ïnon - Made of Stone/Rock

Líthos - A Stone, or a large rock or stone block, used as a seat to a speaker's platform, especially in the Assembly or in the Athenian agora, where archons, arbitrators and certain witnesses swore oaths

Pyrônia - Of the Fire

Pyrphóros - Fire-Bringer or Fire-Bearer

Pyrkaeus - Fire-kindler

Polias - Of the City. Polioukhos - Protector of the City. Poliatis - Keeper of the City.

Anêsidôra - She who Sends Forth Gifts

Thermasia - Of Warmth, of Heat

Pronaia - Of the Fore-temple

Sources/Further Reading:

terpsikeraunos' tumblr

Theoi.com's epithets pages

gone-arai's Hestia info dump

[burnorgetburned]

okay. OKAY. I JUST WANT TO SAY.

NEW MUSIC STYLE. NEW ART STYLE. NEW MAGIC SYSTEM, NEW GIRLS, MORE CLARA DOLLS, MORE HOMURA OUTFITS, MORE EVERYONE OUTFITS, and AAHAHAHAHSGH.

Homura wins by style points alone.

Anyway. Choice screenshots and my thoughts on them. Plus a few wild theories. Replies, tags, and your own reactions are VERY welcome.

(You're doing great, sweetie!)

First of all, I’ve already said this, but Homura has usurped Kyubey. She is the contractor in this new system. She calls magical girls and asks them if they can bear the responsibility of fighting (LEAGUES better than Kyubey's misleading BE A HERO language), using a magical lizard phone. She knows better than anyone else how heavy this is.

And she looks amazing while doing it. Look at that outfit! Look at her steampunk-esque aesthetic! Her throne. Which, notably, has glowing magenta eyes and her wings as a backrest.

The moon is either actually, physically repurposed, or she’s made something that looks like it. Not only that, but the pins going into the moon are exactly like the pins that went into her soul gem when she was being experimented upon in Rebellion. Those pins, according to the artbook, are for draining her gem of grief to keep her just before the point of witching.

Well, here’s my first wild speculation: Homura has not only taken over Kyubey’s job as a contractor but also its job of disposing of grief. That moon steampunk device is maybe for collecting, concentrating, and distilling grief into energy - hence the strange tesla coils connected to red liquid in the second screenshot above. She's doing what Kyubey says it's doing - turning the grief of people into energy to prolong the universe's lifespan.

I for one support her reality-warping shenanigans.

Here are some voices over a phone, sometimes speaking over each other, sometimes together. They call Homura “Akuma-sama” (!!!) which is a distinct upgrade from calling her Good-For-Nothing. They say “Just bring hope” like a mission statement. Are these her contracted girls? Or her Clara Dolls? They seem to show her a lot of respect.

I’ve also said this, but I strongly feel that this and the girl shown later are some of Homura’s new contractees. Their magic is darker. It warps the world around them, even. Their outfits incorporate black a lot more, too, though that might be the lighting.

Look at the little sigil on the top left-middle! Looks a lot like Homura’s lizard sigil shown when she was consuming the universe, just with a longer lizard.

And, of course, the image of Madoka throwing herself off of a building. “Wraith” and “Legend of Bestie” (lmao) show up here. I’ve actually been really looking forward to seeing what they’ll do with Madoka’s… self-sacrificial tendencies, so this might be part of that. Or, because of “Wraith”, it’s… well, I’ll get to that later.

On the other hand, it might not be Madoka. It might be the girl who the speaker in the phone call calls her "best friend", jumping to her death because of a wraith, and Homura saving her to fulfill a wish.

So glad that the insane architecture from Rebellion is making a comeback. Love what you’ve done with the place, Homura. Look at all those cranes!

The outfit changes are very cool to me. I honestly don’t have speculation for why Sayaka is covered in bandages, but I do have speculation for the changes!: they’re older. Years have passed. Since they’ve changed and grown, their outfits have changed, too. I don't have proof of this - I just like the idea.

Light shines down on Madoka. Petals fall towards her as flowers bloom above. Behold, Homura's extremely subtle and inscrutable feelings. (Sorry for the blurry Madoka, but I am not going through the ordeal of uploading screenshots to my computer again because Tumblr does not like mobile users).

Homura is apparently waiting for Madoka here. She's standing right in the fountain's water and holding a Victorian umbrella like a vampire. Right now we can see that the visuals of this movie will not miss.

Is this a routine thing for them or is Homura just showing up to greet them this one time, for some reason? No clue. Madoka's expression as she notices Homura could indicate either.

Eagle-eyed people on Twitter noticed this, but in these shots, Sayaka already has her bandages.

Aside from the multiple and/or teleporting Homuras, there's also a Clara Doll in a ballerina dress and a cute Clara Doll peering over the side of the tower like a little kid.

The tower is interesting. It appears to be made of books or pages, and there's chains throughout it. More notably, it's in the shape of a helix - infinity symbols on top of each other.

Please appreciate these Clara Dolls. I'm sure they're working hard.

But seriously, those Clara Dolls' details. One has a witch's hat. One has an apple on its head. And the one with a teacup appears to have not only a lizard's tail but a replica of Homura's Devil outfit. Appreciate them!

Here is Homura(?), lounging or trapped on a chair filled with even more of those pins. Look at her closely. She's wearing a strange combination of her magical girl outfit and her Devil outfit - her shoulders are bare, and she has... feathers? She's sitting on a bunch of nails. But she also has two soul gems - one in her hand, and one hanging from her neck.

Is she cleansing them? Eating them? Holding people hostage? I don't know, but I support her completely.

She looks so tired.

So: here's some of what I think might be going on.

Homura is using wraiths to repress her worst memories. We know already that wraiths take memories and emotions from their victims. Well, there's no reason it can't be used as extremely terrible coping! Homura actually does this in the Wraith Arc, too - she lets a wraith take her feelings for Madoka.

If it is Madoka, it explains the shot with Madoka throwing herself off a builing - what if Homura has seen this happen in the loops, and out of pain lets a wraith pull it right out of her? The shot says "WRAITH" and billows with smoke. A wraith could have taken Madoka's form to act out this memory. And it doesn't need to be a memory - it could also represent Madoka's self-sacrifice and almost suicidal tendencies. This, too, would explain the multiple Homuras. All wraiths using her form.

This puts forward powerful enemies for the plot, as well as an interesting point of literally fighting Homura's demons. Most importantly, this lets everyone see Homura's pain.

Other wild dartboard speculations:

Homura will try and present herself as a villain. This is, honestly, kind of guaranteed, but it bears mentioning that her magical girls will be very likely to try to defend her.

Kyubey may appear to try and turn the girls against Homura.

Homura made the new magical girl who is drawing a bow. She has a lot of design choices from the Quintet, and people have already noticed how much she looks like Madoka. This new girl plays a role of the hero to Homura's pretend-villain, eliminating the risk that her friends will get seriously hurt.

The new magical girl is actually Madoka. Or the Law of Cycles. Or Kriemhild Gretchen.

The girl who jumps from the tower is a contractee being asked to take a leap of faith. She does so, and Homura rewards her with magic.

[aarontaylorjohnsonsdivorcelawyer]

library card ➵ valgrace university au

FINALE - part 10 [masterlist]

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Leo slid his phone down his back pocket and viewed the landscape of New Rome University. He can see that the sun, although ithadn't set yet, is a burst of brilliant light, scattering orange, purple, and pink hues in the sky. He really hates driving at night, and he really could just return to the architecture building tomorrow, but the curiousity is killing him. He had to go back. Now.

"Hey, are you in a hurry? I need to go somewhere," he called to Piper, who was walking by him on the way to the parking lot.

"Where are you going?" Piper asked, abruptly stopping to see that Leo had fallen behind.

"I think I left something. Can you wait for me? Or you can go on without me if you want," he said.

Piper shrugged. "It's fine. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Great!" he replied. "Be safe."

"You too," Piper said before turning to walk away.

Leo tried to walk the first few yards, but his feet took over and then he's sprinting. There was a loud pounding in his chest; whether it was from the sprinting or the nerves, he's not sure. At last, he arrived at the building, and the pounding just banged even more.

He paved cautiously, scared and excited about what he's gonna find. He's been searching for it everywhere he go, turning his head at every drawing tube yielding individual he sees, hoping his eyes lands on the right one. Perhaps it did, but now he will have a name. And now, Leo is certain.

His feet lead him to the bulletin board, his Docs squeaking at every step he takes against the tiled floor. The building is empty except the few students hanging out the tables just outside the archway, close to the vestibule in which Leo is at. He let out a shaky breath, steadying his chest as he approached.

He knew the piece very well. He admits that the reason it slipped his mind to look at the name was because the illustration captivated him first and his gaze simply brushed over the title block in the corner. Then he went back to admiring it.

It's some sort of summer camp. It has multiple buildings that carried different architectural styles but unified with classical elements, which he never imagined would work this well. At the frontage stood a big blue house white trim and wrap-around porch, and close to it stood a big pine tree. The pine tree seems huge and daunting, like some magical entity that protects the land.

There were cabins. It was surrounding a firepit in the middle, in a horseshoe shape. There might've been 20, but he's not sure. He took note of the little shabby chic cabin and got the sudden urge to tell Piper about it.

And then there's the red one. His eyes lingered at the little brick building. It's a mixture of industrial and steampunk, seemingly out of place to the bright gold and the wooden cabins on either side of it. He remembered pressing his palm against the sheet of glass that protects the board, brushing his index finger at the tiny drawing. He had never been in a summer camp before, but the tall columns and the bronze statues and the waves of the ocean are singing that he had been here before. He's even so sure that there's a hidden bunker in the woods somewhere.

Somehow, he is certain, that in another life, he is a camper in this camp, and he is with his best friend Piper McLean, and Jason Grace.

Jason Grace.

His gaze catapulted to the bottom right corner. And then he saw it. Right next to the student number he's been typing at the library for months, was Jason Grace's name. It was a name he memorized so well, so well that he didn't even struggle to read it even with dyslexia. It's as if his mind is trained to look for Jason Grace.

He fished his phone from his pocket, hands shaking. Then he dialed the number.

"Hello?" the speaker on the other end replied. It was Jason's voice.

"Hey. . . I'm at the archi building right now," Leo said, trying to disguise his nervous voice.

"I know, I'm looking at you right now."

He turned to the courtyard, and saw Jason amongst the students in the table. He smiled at him when he caught his eyes, phone pressed against his ear.

"See, I told you, it's easy to figure out," Jason chuckled on the phone. The Jason he's looking at rose, and approached.

Leo dropped the phone. "Hi," he said, to the Jason in front of him.

"Hi." He said it better than Leo. The word glides smoothly out of his mouth, with the smile never leaving from his face. There was a trace of a scar on the top corner of his lips, forming a crescent shape guided by his smile.

Leo bit the inside of his cheek, trying not to think about Jason's stupid lips, and the stupid scar on his lips, and the stupid smile on his lips.

"I'm sorry, this is so embarrassing," Leo said, shifting his gaze away from Jason. "This is so weird."

"What do you mean it's weird?"

"This! I've made it weird! I said some weird things now this is weird!"

"What? No, you didn't do anything weird at all!"

Leo avoided his gaze. "This is like a pattern for me, I fall in love so easily, and I do something embarassing, and then I drive them away. I — I just. . ."

"Hey." Jason put a hand on Leo's arm, sending thousans volts of electricity down his body. "None of this is embarrassing, it's just me."

Leo sighed. "Well, it will soon! I don't know how to act, I've never made it past the daydreaming phase! I've never had anyone know I like them, I just keep it to myself."

"You think this is embarassing? You should ask Malcolm how I acted when I saw you at the bleachers," Jason chuckled, his hand dropping grip Leo's wrist. "Good thing the helmet hid my face well, and you're far enough to not see it."

"W-what do you mean?" Leo stammered.

"You know what I mean! Now I'm the one who's embarassed."

"I didn't know you know me!"

"Of course I know you! You brought amazing flan to Mrs. Jackson's Christmas party!"

"I—" Leo dropped his head to hide his face, chuckling in disbelief. "So what now?"

"I say dinner?" Jason tilted his head, waiting for Leo's response.

"Your treat? Since you're the rich one?"

"Hey, you still owe me 30 dollars!"

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

When he went home that night, a huge smile plastered across his face, Leo took out his phone and changed the contact on his phone. The mystery man he's been texting now has a name, and it is Jason Grace.

He was typing his thank you to Jason for the amazing night when the phone vibrated on his hand, along with it was a text from Piper. He smiled to himself. He has a lot of things to tell his best friend.

[valleyof-goldenlilies]

A Christmas Visitor - Modern!Jace Velaryon x Reader

Summary: Jace takes it upon himself to cheer you up for your first Christmas spent alone.

Pairing: Modern! Jace Velaryon x AFAB! Reader

Warnings: fluffy boyfriend Jace, profanity, blowjob, face fucking, degradation, mentions of masturbation (both f and m) (let me know if i missed anything out!)

Word Count: 1.92k words

A/N: hoe hoe hoe! a very merry late Christmas and Happy New Year in advance from me to you :) this one is for those Jace girlies out there ;) I hope you enjoy!

lovely dividers credited to @firefly-graphics !

It was set to be a lonely Christmas for you. 

But honestly? You had no one to blame but yourself. You were the one who had decided to migrate to another continent entirely for university, whilst most of your friends had stayed in King’s Landing, or other parts of Westeros, including your boyfriend, Jace Velaryon. 

But Braavos University was undoubtedly the best university in the known world to pursue a degree in economics, and when you had gotten the acceptance email, Jace had urged you to go, telling you that you would be an idiot if you passed up on the chance. 

Braavos was a wonderful place: a melting pot of different cultures, interesting architectural structures, along with an intriguing history. You loved studying and living here, but at times, especially now, during the festive season, you especially missed home. You missed seeing Jace’s wonderful, handsome, smiling face, missed his kisses, his hugs, his warmth, his everything. 

In a video call with your boyfriend a few days ago, you had expressed how much you’d missed him, and he had given you a sad smile in return. 

“I miss you too, honey,” Jace said earnestly, covering his headphones’ speakers again when a loud noise erupted from behind him. You winced at the feedback from the mic. “Cregan, hey bud, mind keeping it down a little?” Jace called out. “I’m video calling my girlfriend here.” 

“Sorry dude!” A manly voice that was most definitely not Cregan called back, and you had to stifle a laugh at Jace’s knowing, disgusted look. “Ugh, these animals, I swear,” Jace joked, turning his attention back to you. His expression softened. “Hey honey, I know it’s hard on you. I wish there was something I can do to make you feel better.” 

You smiled, trying to cheer up a bit for his sake. “It’s alright, really. I’m doing fine here, I’m just being a bit mopey because I miss you and stuff.” 

“Aww,” Jace blew you a kiss through the computer screen. “I miss you too, honey. Uni life just isn’t the same without you. But you are still coming back for summer break, right?” 

You nodded, blowing back a kiss to him. “Yeah, of course I am. I can’t wait-“ A crash and a gruff laugh sounded from behind Jace, and Jace’s eyes widened as he turned back to try and catch a glimpse of what was going on. “Jace, buddy, I might need some help here!” A voice that was definitely Cregan groaned out. 

“I’m sorry babe, I gotta go,” Jace said apologetically. “Trust those guys to get wild when I’m trying to call my girlfriend.” 

“No, it’s fine,” you tried to stifle a giggle. “You’re like their mom, you know.” “Am not,” Jace pouted, before blowing you a kiss. “I’ll video call you on Christmas, alright? I love you, baby.” 

“Love you too, Jacey.” You blew him a kiss back before your computer screen went dark, and you sighed, slumping back in your seat. Video calling him had somehow made you miss him even more. 

But alas, such was life. When the morning sunlight streamed through your dorm windows on Christmas Day, you had already carefully planned out your day. 

“Okay, so,” you tapped your pencil on your paper, filled with a list of the things you wanted to do. First, I go across the campus to get those delicious pretzels from Lancelot’s Bakery, then I head to the grocery shop to get myself some chicken to cook chicken Alfredo pasta for lunch. Then-“ 

A knock at your dorm room caused you to look up from your list, puzzled. Your dorm mates had all left for their own homes for the holidays, so who could that be? You set down your pencil, moving to open the door. “Yes-?” Your jaw dropped when you saw who it was standing outside the door. 

“Jace!” You let out a cry of delight at your boyfriend’s warm, smiling face. The smile that you had missed so much. 

“Hey, baby-“ Jace barely had time to finish his sentence before you launched yourself at him, jumping into his arms and kissing him hungrily. Jace nearly staggered under your weight, hands going to stabilise you as you wrapped your legs around his waist. He savoured the taste of your lips, feeling you melt against him and nearly tearing up when you realised that he was real. 

Oh, how he missed you. How he missed this. 

Jace quickly brought you into your dorm room, kicking the door shut behind him as he didn’t break the kiss. He set you down on the edge of the desk that you were writing on, tongue tangling eagerly with yours. “Mmm, I missed you so much,” he mumbled against your lips, fumbling for the zipper of the shorts that you were wearing. “I missed your lips, your scent, your pussy…” 

You let out a laugh, breaking the kiss to rest your forehead against his. “Someone’s eager, huh?” 

“Don’t act like you aren’t,” Jace chided, chuckling as he pulled your shorts off. “Nearly six months without you has been absolute torture. I had to stroke my own dick almost every night for the first few months you know.” A pleasant shiver shot through you at the imagery: Jace stroking himself to the thought of you every day, groaning as he spilled himself in his hand. 

“Sounds like I should make it up to you then,” you said slyly, pushing yourself off the desk and getting on your knees. Jace’s breath hitched as he took in the sight of you, radiant, rosy, glowing, down on your knees in front of him. Where you belong. 

You made fast work of his jeans, unbuckling his belt and tugging his jeans and boxers down in one go. Your mouth nearly watered at the sight of his length, long and leaking with precum. You ran your fingers along the vein in his cock, teasing him, and Jace groaned, pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail. “Baby…don’t be a tease,” Jace’s voice was low, pleading. You simply laughed, looking cheeky as you debated on whether you should give him what he wanted. 

Jace nearly saw stars when your hot mouth got to work on his dick, licking the underside of it, letting the precum collect on your tongue. His grip in your hair tightened. “Love…” 

Slowly, you began to take his cock into your mouth. The loud, scandalous, squelching noise of you taking his dick inch by inch reverberated throughout your empty dorm room, making Jace grow even harder, if that was even possible. He had dreamt of this moment so many times for the last few months…

He made a low, strangled noise in his throat as you hollowed out your cheeks to accommodate even more of him, trying not to gag in the meantime. His fingers tangled even deeply into your hair, “That’s it, that’s fucking it. Take all of me in,” Jace encouraged you. “You can do it. You’re a good girl for me, aren’t you?” 

Your answering nod caused your head to bob on his dick a little, and Jace moaned at the sight. He could just die happy now. 

“Can I fuck your face, sweetheart?” Jace asked tenderly, but you knew that his tone of voice, while friendly, left no room for negotiation. So you only looked up at him with those adorable doe eyes, and nodded slightly. Jace smirked, pulling out a bit before thrusting himself back into your throat. 

He continued to fuck your face, going slow and gentle at first, then his thrusts grew more and more erratic as he felt your hot little mouth envelop his dick just so perfectly. The sound of your fingers playing with your pussy as he face-fucked you however, drew him back to attention again. 

“Hey,” he slapped your cheek lightly, getting your attention as you looked up at him with wide eyes, having been caught. “You’re not allowed to touch that pussy as I face fuck you.” Your expression of dismay almost made him feel bad. 

Almost. 

“No touching yourself, sweetheart. Or else I won’t let you cum later, you understand?” Your eyes teared up a little, and Jace watched you with a smirk as your expression grew desperate, but you could simply nod obediently, knowing that Jace would make good on that promise. 

“Good girl,” he soothed you, before thrusting into your mouth even harder, faster. 

Your moans were muffled by his cock, but Jace let his unfiltered noises echo throughout the room, his curses and groans and praises only making you wetter. “Yeah, that’s it, baby…taking this dick like a pro, huh? What a dirty little slut you are.” 

You could barely speak with his dick in your mouth, and Jace could feel himself getting closer as he watched your tits bounce in that skimpy top you had on. He couldn’t wait to have his hands and mouth all over them, kissing and biting and sucking on your hardened buds. The thought alone was enough to send him over the edge, and when you began playing with his balls, he completely lost it. 

Letting out a rough moan, he spilled himself in you, his hot load shooting down your throat. The vibrations of your muffled moans around his cock made it feel even better. 

He pulled out, watching your dazed, blissed out face. Gently tilting your chin up to face him, he ordered you, “Swallow all that for me, sweetheart.” 

Obligingly, you did so, and Jace let out a sigh of pleasure. “Good girl. Come here.” He helped you up from your knees, gently hoisting you up onto the desk again while rubbing your red knees with his thumbs like a perfect gentleman. Then, his hands found his way to your cheek again, and his lips to yours. He could taste himself on your tongue, and he groaned into your mouth, hand going to palm at your tits through the fabric of your top. 

“Best Christmas present I could ask for,” he murmured, sweetly pecking you on the lips. “Which reminds me,” you brought up, voice a bit hoarse after that intense face-fucking. “How’d you get here?” 

“I flew out, duh.” You smacked Jace’s shoulder at that non-serious response. “Ow. I flew out all the way for you, and you abuse me like this?” Jace rubbed his hot shoulder, looking like a kicked puppy. “Hurts me right in my feelings, baby.” 

“I’m serious,” you pressed, and Jace laughed, kissing your pouting lips. “I don’t know, you just looked so sad over the video call��I just had to come and see you.” 

“And your family was cool with it?” Jace laughed again, rubbing your shoulder reassuringly. “Mom’s always chill about it, don’t worry. And you know my little brothers; they always act like they’re happy to be rid of me.” 

“But for now,” Jace’s lips met yours again, searing, wanting. “Can we stop talking about how I got here and focus on worshipping you instead?” You giggled, tightening your arms around his neck. “Well, in that case-“ 

A clatter outside your door made you and Jace freeze in your tracks, wide eyes going to the door. “What was that-“ 

“My suitcase!” Jace exclaimed, a panicked look on his face as someone outside bellowed. “Who left their fucking suitcase in the middle of the hall?” 

You couldn’t hold back your laughter at the sight of abject horror on Jace’s face as he rushed to the door to apologise to whatever poor soul had tripped over his suitcase. 

Best Christmas you could ever ask for.

let me know if you wish to be added to a general taglist for jace related works, or just my works in general in the comments or through this form! :) 

thank you for reading! if you liked it, likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated! merry late xmas guys 😘🎄

[thirdlotusprince3]

What the Inside Out emotions would follow / like / re-blog / share on Youtube or Instagram.

Joy – cute animal videos, cool craft trick videos, magic tricks, parodies, memes, comedians, miracle / recovery videos, game shows, satisfying food / cook videos, cool experiments, sweet moments, coolest places on earth, motivational quotes for workout, EDM / self empowerment pop music for workout.

Anger – athletes, Nascar, alpha chad motivational speakers, cool stunt videos, videogames, rockstars, billionaire success stories, car / motorcycle / truck videos, workout videos, sports channels, samurai facts, insane places to mountain climb, I mountain climbed.

Disgust – Fashion, makeup brands, celebrity couples, character shipping videos, dating reality tv-shows, celebrity gossip.

Envy – Disgust, celebrities, fashion brands, toy brands, Sanrio, Pokémon, Minecraft videos, latest tech videos, makeup tutorials, youth culture commentary, baking videos, coolest places on earth, cute sushi / candy videos, I tried this activity / challenge video, acrobatic tricks, nightcore.

Anxiety – Finance saving money advice, self-motivational speakers, health fact diet videos, weather channel, social skills advice, fashion tips, satisfying nature videos, satisfying art videos, how to avoid waste and clean up the environment, folk music, tea videos, best teas / candle brands, how to clean up your space, tips on planning, scheduling, and time management, these make you smart.

Sadness – National Geographics, animal facts, book suggesters, philosophy videos, society / social commentary videos, sympathy tragic challenge videos, cool animals, fables, history.

Embarrassment – social skills advice, animal facts, cool animals, mountain pictures, blankets on amazon

Fear – Health facts, diet videos, weather channels.

Ennui – Goth aesthetic pictures, fail videos, people posting L’s / being dumb posts, supernatural folklore, gothic architecture, grunge artists.

[lunafreya24]

Modern au: When the Storm Breaks

Pairings: Jacaerys Targaryen/Cregan Stark, Rhaenyra Targaryen/Harwin Strong, Rhaenys Targaryen/Corlys Velaryon

Cregan and Jace have been married for a couple years when tragedy strikes. Jace's brother, Luke, is killed in a car accident. From the moment they got the news, Jace barely cries. He buries himself into being strong for his family and planning Luke's funeral. Cregan stays by his side the whole time, trying his best to help. Everyone is worried Jace is carrying too much on his shoulders and that he's going to explode soon. Their fears become reality when Jace has a full-blown mental breakdown at the funeral. Jace's family and his husband rally around him. Afterwards he apologizes for making a scene. Everyone tells him that he has every right to upset and that he doesn't have to be strong all the time.

(cw: character death, graphic language, grief, unhealthy coping mechanisms)

Notes: This takes place in modern day New York. Rhaenyra and Harwin are married. Aegon III and Viserys II are Harwin's sons, but they get their looks from Rhaenyra. All the age gaps are closed in this story. Cregan and Jace are the same age, Rhaenyra and Harwin are only like 3 or 4 years apart. Laena is Rhaenyra's best friend here not Alicent, because I didn't want to touch that situation. Helaena is the only green that makes an appearance because I love her. Laenor and Daemon also aren't mentioned in this story. Do with that what you will.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jacaerys Targaryen and Cregan Stark had built a life together that was rooted in love, trust, and mutual support. They met in college, when Jace was getting his MBA and Cregan was getting a bachelor’s degree in architecture. Until then, neither of them had believed in love at first sight, but in that moment, love was the only thing that came to mind. They dated all throughout college, receiving their respective degrees with honors. Jace’s parents, Rhaenyra and Harwin, threw a grand graduation party at their home. However, Jace was the only one unaware that this party was also an engagement party. Once everyone important to them had arrived, Cregan got down on one knee and asked Jace to make him the happiest man in the world. Jace accepted with tears in his eyes. Their wedding was a sight to behold, a perfect blend of extravagance and sentiment. They vowed to be there for each other for every moment of their lives, no matter how painful. After four years of marriage, they had faced their share of challenges, but none had been as shattering as the phone call that came one quiet evening.

Jace was in the kitchen, preparing dinner, while Cregan relaxed on the couch, engrossed in a book. The shrill ring of Jace's phone broke the silence. It was from Baela, Jace's favorite cousin. Jace and Baela were very close, but they hadn’t spoken in a while, feeling they didn’t have much to share with each other. When she called out of nowhere, Jace thought she had something exciting to tell him. 

“Hey Baela, how are you?” He answered cheerfully. 

“Hi Jace.” Baela said, her voice shaking, barely above whisper.

“Is everything okay?” There was silence on the other end. 

Cregan could sense the tension and looked from his book. “Who’s that baby?”

Jace moved the food off the stove and walked over. “It’s Baela,” he whispered. 

“Is that Cregan?” She asked in an abrupt manner.

“Yeah.” Jace said.

“Can you put the phone on speaker, you both need to hear this.”

Jace did as he was asked, placing his phone on the coffee table, “Okay, Baela what going on, you’re kind of scaring me now.” 

Baela took a deep breath before continuing, "Jace, it's about Luke.” 

“What about Luke?” Jace asked, fear washing over him. 

They could hear Baela start to cry on the other end, “There…There’s been….. an accident. I’m so sorry Jace. He's... he's gone."

Jace’s breath hitched. He and his husband sat there frozen, Baela’s soft cries coming from below them. 

“What? What happened?” Jace questioned. The room seemed to close in around them as the reality of the situation sunk in.

“He… he was driving home for a visit when .... a truck sideswiped him. He hit a wall and…. first responders couldn’t get to him in time.” 

Jace could hear Baela talking to them. He could feel his husband grab his hand. But all of that seemed to fade away with the thoughts whirling through his mind. 

"I'm so sorry, Jace," Cregan whispered, his heart aching for his husband.

Jace sat frozen once again, his eyes were unfocused. He didn't cry, didn't scream. He just nodded and took a deep breath. 

"What about my parents? Do they know yet?"

“We’re at their house right now. My mom was with yours when she got the call. They didn’t know how to tell you so I offered to do it. They’re…. heartbroken, but we’re here to help them.”

“Thank you.” Jace muttered.

“That goes for you too, if you need anything, please come to us Jace.”

“Okay. Goodbye Baela.”

“Bye.” 

Crega pulled Jace into a tight hold. “I’m so sorry baby.” He offered. But Jace shifted in his arms, pulling back. He looked as if he were in some sort of trance. 

“I need to get home.” He announced. “My family needs me.” 

The days that followed were a blur of grief and responsibility. From the moment they got the news, Jace seemed to switch into autopilot. He threw himself into planning Luke's funeral, his focus solely on being the pillar of strength his family needed. He promised his parents that they didn’t have to worry about anything while he was there. He coordinated with funeral directors, arranged flowers, and meticulously chose every detail, ensuring that his brother would be honored in the best way possible.

Cregan watched his husband with growing concern. Jace was handling everything with a stoic determination that bordered on obsessiveness. He knew Jace was hurting, but he seemed unwilling or unable to express his grief. Every time Cregan tried to talk to him about it, Jace would deflect, insisting that there was too much to do.

"Jace, honey, you need to slow down and let yourself grieve, let yourself feel something," Cregan urged one evening, gently touching his arm. "It's okay to cry, to be upset."

Jace shook his head, his expression resolute. "I don't have time for that, Cregan. My family needs me." That phrase had become Jace’s mantra over the last week. At night, he would lie awake, staring at the ceiling, while Cregan held him, hoping that the physical closeness would provide some sort of comfort.

Jace's family was just as worried. At first, Rhaenyra was eternally grateful for her son's strength at this terrible time. But she quickly realized what was happening to her son, her whole body flooded with guilt. She and Harwin both expressed their concerns to Cregan privately. "He's carrying too much," Rhaenyra said one evening, her voice thick with worry. "I'm afraid he's going to break."

The day of the funeral arrived, a gray, overcast morning that seemed to mirror the heavy hearts of all who gathered. Jace was impeccably dressed in a black suit, his expression set in a mask of calm control. Cregan stood by his side, offering silent support.

The service was beautiful and heart-wrenching. Friends and family spoke of Luke's kindness, his bright smile, and the joy he brought to their lives. Jace delivered the eulogy with a steady voice, recounting fond memories and expressing the depth of his love for his younger brother. When he finished, sobs and sniffles could be heard throughout the whole church, but Jace’s face still didn’t falter. 

As the service drew to a close, Jace stood by the casket, greeting mourners and accepting their condolences. He was the picture of strength and composure, but Cregan could see the cracks beneath the surface. Each handshake, each hug seemed to chip away at the veneer of control Jace had built around himself.

When everyone proceeded to the burial site, Luke's body was placed over the area where it would be buried and lay forever. As the priest gave final blessing, Jace’s frame stiffened, his breaths shallowed slightly. Cregan was at his side, sensing the shift. He grabbed his husband's hand and started rubbing small circles on his back. He had seen this coming from the beginning. He only hoped now that he could soften the blow, if only a little bit. 

It was during the final moments of the burial, as the casket was lowered into the ground, that the storm finally broke. Jace stared at the graveside, the finality of it all crashing down on him. His breathing quickened even more, and he felt a tightness in his chest that made it hard to breathe.

“No.” Jace shook his head, pleading with every higher power he could think of. “Please, no!” he whimpered, not caring about what people thought about him. The pressure inside him had built up to an unbearable level. "I can't... I can't do this," he gasped, his voice breaking. "He's gone, Cregan! No....please! He can’t be gone!"

The tears finally came then, a torrent of grief and anguish that he had held back for far too long. He lurched forward, falling to the ground, sobs wracking his body. Cregan knelt beside him, wrapping his arms around Jace, holding him as he wailed. 

The mourners looked on with a mix of sympathy and understanding. Rhaenys and Corlys took it upon themselves to start herding the funeral guests toward the reception, knowing the best thing for the family was to be alone with each other right now. Rhaenyra and Harwin rushed to Jace's side, their own tears falling freely as they tried to comfort their son. For the first time since the accident, Jace allowed himself to truly feel the depth of his loss. Jace clung to Cregan, his cries growing softer, his screams turning into broken whispers, “Come back…. Luke I’m sorry…. Please come back.” 

The four of them sat like that for a while. Everyone else had gone, Laena had taken Jace’s other brothers to the reception, giving them time to just worry about Jace. Thirty minutes felt like a lifetime. Jace felt like he had cried away all the tears he had left, a terrible headache was brewing in the back of his skull. He picked up his head and looked around, realizing they were alone. “We should go to the reception now. They’re probably waiting for us.” He groaned, rubbing his burning eyes. 

Rhaenyra cupped her son's face gently, "Jace, you don't have to go. Everyone will understand."

Harwin nodded in agreement, "We're all hurting, son. And you’ve already done so much. If you just want to go home, it’s alright.” 

Jace looked to his husband for the answer. Cregan looked at him lovingly, saying, “I’ll do whatever you want, baby.” 

Jace thought for a moment, “I think we should go.” He decided.

“Are you sure?” Cregan asked.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” 

The reception was a blur for Jace. He felt exhausted, both physically and emotionally. Many people came to him again, offering even more condolences and asking if he was alright. He assured everyone that he was feeling much better now, but the ache in his heart and the pounding in his head were creeping up on him again. He wondered why he even bothered coming. Just then Helaena came up to him with a gentle smile.  

“Hi Jace.” She spoke softly

“Hi Helaena.” 

She looked at him as if she was trying to speak a language she didn’t know. She quickly gave up on words and held her arms out to him. He took them gratefully. After a full day of words and tears, her silent comfort somehow surpassed it all. Helaena often struggled with words, but in her touch was a power no one else in that room possessed. In that moment, Jace felt all of his pain melt away. For a split second, he felt whole again. He felt the one thing that had been missing since Baela called him that night, hope. They stayed like that for a little while. Jace breathed in her soothing herbal scent, finally feeling a sense of healing take fold. 

“Thank you so much Helaena.”

“For what”

“For being exactly what I need right now.”

Helaena smiled kindly and then left. Eventually everyone cleared out, leaving just the family. As they sat on the couch together, Jace struggled to come to terms with his outburst at the funeral. In hindsight, he felt embarrassed and ashamed for breaking down in front of everyone. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice filled with regret. "I didn't mean to make a scene."

Rhaenyra held him in her arms, her eyes filled with compassion. "Jace, you have nothing to apologize for. You lost your brother, not even a month ago. You have every right to grieve. If anyone should be sorry, it’s me. I never should have let you take on all that by yourself."

Harwin nodded in agreement. "Neither of us should have, Jace. We're a family, and we should support each other. You don't always have to be strong for everyone."

Cregan held his hand, his voice gentle but firm. "You've been carrying so much, sweetheart. It's time to let others carry some of that weight with you. We're all here for you now." He pressed a feather-light kiss to Jace’s temple. 

Jace looked around at his family, seeing the love and support in their eyes. He realized then that he didn't have to bear his grief alone. He didn't have to be the pillar of strength all the time. It was okay to lean on those who loved him. He felt tears come to his eyes again, but this time he let them flow freely. He grabbed on to his mother’s waist and cried slow, soft tears. Rhaenyra did the same until they both fell asleep in that position, their pain and exhaustion finally ceasing for the time being. 

Harwin and Cregan shared a knowing look before carefully unraveling the two and picking them up bridal style. Harwin couldn’t help but smile as he remembered the last time he held his wife this way. She had gotten too tipsy at a party and passed out in the car on the ride home. They were so young then, before the children, before their lives had truly begun. 

Cregan thought about the last time he held his husband this way. They had just gotten married. Jace was about to open the door to their apartment, when Cregan scooped him up and carried him across the threshold. It was a silly moment filled with laughter and so much love. They were still young, but Cregan knew from the moment they met, that he was going to spend the rest of his time on Earth and then some with the man sleeping in his arms. 

They carried their spouses up the stairs and laid them down on their respective beds. With the softest touch they remove as much of their uncomfortable funeral attire as they could before laying down next to them. They knew in the morning the pain would hit all over again, but for now they enjoyed this moment of peace in the eye of the storm. 

[tucker-moore]

Tucker lay sprawled on the lounge next to the pool at the resort Sunday had found for them when they first decided on embarking on their Grecian holiday. Outside of the cafe they had found down the street, it was his favorite spot on the trip so far. That’s not to say they couple hadn’t gone on adventure or sightseeing but the view of Sunday floating in the pool and basking in the sun beat any of the statues or architecture they had seen on their travels.

He had a book in his hands, as always, but he was barely focused on the words as his eyes glossed over the same sentence for the third or fourth time. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the story or that he had suddenly lost his love of reading. It was that making reading his job had made his love for it somewhat of a chore. He had expressed these feelings to his close friends and family and they all agreed maybe it was time for a change. That thought had been in the back of his mind for weeks now but nothing had truly materialized from it. Not until…but that was crazy? Wasn’t it?

Tucker had toyed with the idea of a used bookstore before settling on editing. It was a safer bet. The path of least resistance and a steady, secure future. He was living that future now, though, and the greatest things in his life were the ones he had taken chances on. The best thing being Sunday herself and as he watched her float carelessly across the pool he finally decided. Some risks are worth taking.

Exchanging his book for his phone, he pulled up his brother’s contact. He had no idea what time it was in New York but he knew Rohan would answer no matter what. Tucker was right as the line connected after the third ring. “Tuck?” He heard Rohan answer with concern in his voice, not even bothering to say hello.

“I’m fine.” Tucker promised in greeting, his tone cheerful and full of excitement. He didn’t even wait for his brother to ask what the fuck he was calling at whatever the fuck time for. He just laid it all out there and waited, hoping he would agree.

“You know how we have been talking about what I should do with myself? And how I love books but don’t want reading to be my job? And you love food and eating can’t be your job or you’ll be fat?” Rohan coughed at that and tried to cut Tucker off, having said nothing of the sort, but Tucker continued giddily, “Well if you put that all together, what do you get?”

“A swift kick in the balls?” Rohan mumbled irritably, clearly waiting for his little brother to get to the point.

“A cafe with books. A bookstore with a cafe. Whatever you want to call it, we’re doing it. Say you’ll do it with me?” Tucker pleaded and the line was quiet for a few moments before a sigh came through the speaker.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll do it. We’ll do it.” Tucker was whooping before his brother even finished, hopping up from his seat and dancing which prompted Sunday to look up at him with wide eyes.

“Baby! We’re going to have a bookstore!”

[ncdweller]

Unitararian Universalists in our town

We went to our first UU service here today.

Much like our Atlanta UU, and so many other UU buildings, the sanctuary is in the round.

I don’t know if the UUA at one time had architectural guidelines requiring this, but I’m all for it.

It’s a tiny membership these days, 40 people total. Because of this, there is no money for a music director or official Grand Pubsh. It’s all volunteers.

In general I think that’s a good thing (side-eyeing the mega churches here), as it seems everyone contributes in some way.

It’s not a Christian organization, per se, but I think Jesus would approve.

The best part is toward the end of the service, they ask if anyone wanted to speak, and it must have been half of the people there spoke. One speaker explained that this is because this is a safe space.

So yay small fellowships!

After the service, everyone went downstairs for coffee (a Universal Unitarian Universalist event), where, being the new kids there, we met everyone. This introvert is still recovering from that, but it was great talking to so many interesting people.

The election outcome pushed us to go today, but we should have attended before that.

[samueldays]

Plagiarist's Cant, and Plagiarists Can't.

"This was merely a single skirmish in a broader war to unravel public faith in pillars of American society."

-Claudine Gay, NYT, 2024.

That's four metaphors combined in one sentence: military, fabric, religion, architecture.

"The Ogre does what ogres can, Deeds quite impossible for Man, But one prize is beyond his reach, The Ogre cannot master Speech. About a subjugated plain, Among its desperate and slain, The Ogre stalks with hands on hips While drivel gushes from his lips."

-W.H. Auden, 1968, originally about Soviet cant.

The Gay affair (thank you English phraseology) has gotten headlines with Claudine Gay, plagiarism and antisemitism, but my interest in it is more about the entire class of people eagerly telling lies and talking cant. Lying is wrong. Cant is ogrish.

Gay lied, and the Harvard board lied to back her up, and an entire class of allegedly truth-seeking, fact-checking journalists lied some more. Several "professional" people who are well paid to be well informed were revealed as aggressively ignorant and less informed than I was after an hour with Sci-Hub and Google Scholar. I already felt cynical and jaded beforehand, and I nonetheless kept being disappointed by the sheer torrent of lies in the Gay affair.

I say "lies" because the alternative is that they are delusional imbeciles who genuinely believe that this canting midwit is a groundbreaking scholar. Look at her. Look at her and laugh.

Given a NYT column and a last word of sorts, she delivers neither competent workmanlike prose, nor literary excellence, but instead a grab bag of cant and overused metaphor and pompous self-importance.

My hope is that by stepping down I will deny demagogues the opportunity to further weaponize my presidency in their campaign to undermine the ideals animating Harvard since its founding: excellence, openness, independence, truth.

She did not bring excellence, nor openness, nor truth, and I'm skeptical about the independence. She is at best spouting cant, at worst lying again. She communicates in emotive connotations, unfitting of a Harvard scholar.

It is not lost on me that I make an ideal canvas for projecting every anxiety about the generational and demographic changes unfolding on American campuses: a Black woman selected to lead a storied institution. Someone who views diversity as a source of institutional strength and dynamism. Someone who has advocated a modern curriculum that spans from the frontier of quantum science to the long-neglected history of Asian Americans. Someone who believes that a daughter of Haitian immigrants has something to offer to the nation’s oldest university.

What a lot of blather. "Diversity" in particular is a bait-and-switch word that changes between meaning "More black people" and "Variety of opinions" depending on whether the speaker is engaged in rhetorical attack or defense. The four sentences of this paragraph could be reduced with little loss to the four words "Black. Race. Asian. Black." and in the process constitute evidence that the anxiety about changes on American campus is justified - the campus is becoming race-obsessed to the detriment of everything else. It's race-cant, similar in spirit to plagiarism, and to Orwell's complaint: "his brain is not involved as it would be if he were choosing his words for himself."

The plagiarism is not the only problem. Even the broader issue that she writes and talks sloppily is not the only problem. Her papers were bad as scientific papers. Her p-values were absurd, her statistical analysis was confounded, she dropped an inconvenient data point, she failed to distinguish correlation with causation, she asserted overly strong conclusions from tiny sample sizes processed through interpolative models, et cetera. I've got Tumblr mutuals who write better and more factful analysis.

There is nothing inherently wrong with plagiarism as such: for example engineering approaches to the same problem, studies of the same object, or entertainment in the same genre ought to be similar to one another with good reason.

Much like Van Halen's famous "remove the brown M&Ms from the bowl" contract, though, a ban on close plagiarism can serve as a simple and visible test of someone's ability to follow correct procedure. Hence the pun: plagiarists can't. Claudine Gay is a serial plagiarist who sucks at expressing herself, so she copies, and she cants.

[watthifi]

Discover the top 10 features to consider when choosing the best architectural speaker in India. Ensure top-quality sound, seamless design, and wireless capabilities for an enhanced audio experience.

[ms-lirio]

Thoughts on Macau? I think he'd be an interesting character to think about

💛 MACAU + BRASIL 💚

I know the question was directed to Macau, but it will eventually end up being Maycentric lol since the vision I always bring is the characters' relationships and their interactions with my oc.

In this case, a member of the Portuguese-speaking community and we have a lot to talk about. However, I'm not an internationalist, I know a little about diplomacy and history as a simple hobby. I am not an authority figure.

🎲 MACAU:

My human name for him is Miguel da Silva Xavier/Chan Yee Cheung. Sometimes he may present himself as Miguel Chan. His nickname is Mimi and no one can stop me from calling him like this.

I remember someone a long, long time ago in the fandom giving him the fanon name "Xavier", so it got stuck in me for years, but it sounds better as a surname, in my opinion. So I preserved the Xavier, but as a surname, as a memory, for the sake of that good old-times fanon name, haha.

I baptized him Miguel, fits him better. Actually, Afonso did it, not me xd I am not the colonizer here. 💋

About the Cantonese name... I am not sure if it is correct, I spent so much time researching Cantonese names, and surnames, about important Macanese people, so I could have an idea of names... So, I am deeply sorry if I commited a mistake, if you are Cantonese/Macanese, feel free to correct me. I really tried my best 😔 uff

Lusofam (from Brazil's perspective)

Firstly, nowadays, Mayara barely sees Afonso as a father figure (perhaps due to a kind of resentment that she developed over time). Although yes, in other historical moments Portugal and Brazil have maintained a kind of relationship similar to that of parent-child, but it was a very troubled relationship. And, it's still a complicated relationship. Although, currently, they are on great terms and cooperate with each other. They've been rebuilding a kind of family relationship, but there are still many fights and disagreements; It is very complex to define lol

I know it will sound sad, but May is a bit isolated from Lusofam. Not for the same reasons as the Hispanic American countries, but due to the distance. And because she is not all aware of them.

Brazil is the only country that speaks Portuguese in the Americas. The other Portuguese speakers are too far away to create strong family ties with, although yes, she is interested in getting closer to the Lusofonia, and little by little the relationship between them is becoming closer.

Many of these countries and regions, however, had contact with her at some point during Maylore.

The closest lusófono Mayara feels to having a family relationship (besides Afonso) is Lívia (Angola). With whom I believe she created a true fraternal bond (Brazil was the first country to recognize the Independence of Angola, for example).

HISTORICAL TIES

(Chinese Tea plantation in the Jardim Botânico of Rio de Janeiro)

The first relations between Macau and Brazil took place through trade and architecture through Portugal during colonial times.

(Via: Terra de Santa Cruz)

Chinese Jesus Christ.

"They came in one of the ships that traveled the "Indian route", a trade route between Europe and Asia. The presence of these statues in Bahia may have been the result of a mercantile exchange between Brazil and China. Recôncavo's tobacco was appreciated in the East, yielded profits for the Bahian farmer and enriched the region.

One of the fans of Cachoeirense tobacco would have been the Chinese emperor Quianlong (1711-1799), fourth monarch of the Manchu Qing dynasty, who had relations with the Portuguese through Macau. It is likely that, in this circulation of goods and culture between the two regions, a Carmelite friar, a businessman or a high-ranking official from the Portuguese overseas Empire bought or exchanged the set of sculptures for tobacco, giving them as a gift to the Order. Terceira do Carmo." (Font: A Terra de Santa Cruz, FB)

Leão de Fô decorating a church located in João Pessoa, Paraíba.

This is a Chinese-looking statue. Sculpted by Macau and Goa artists in Brazil. This was a type of called "Arte Achinesada", "Chinese-looking art".

Church of Nossa Senhora do Ó de Sabara, Minas Gerais, with Chinese Pagoda style and Macanese-Goan Chinese-looking art, made by a Goan artist.

This type of art was very popular at the time, and inspired Brazilian artists as well.

The first Chinese Immigrants in Brazil came from Macau:

Now let's talk about what I HC that I believe it was the first personal contact between May and Mimi.

"In 1812, a boat from Macau with tea planters arrived in Rio de Janeiro." First image above in Historical Ties.

"The truth is that there is no consensus on the date. Nor, even, about whether this landing of immigrants was the first contact between China (always through Macau) and Brazil." (A/N: I believe not, due to the infos above).

"Leonor Diaz de Seabra, one of the Portuguese who has most studied the relationship between China and Brazil, points to 1810. The professor at the Department of Portuguese at the University of Macau (and at the Research Center for Luso-Asian Studies) argues that since 1810, tea cultivation began, in the Botanical Garden of Rio de Janeiro, with plants imported from Macau and with 200 Chinese to work there."

(Font: PontoFinalMacau.Wordpress)

Macau wanted Brazil

"If there is no [...] scientific evidence in the Macau archives about the date of sending the ship "Vulcano" with farmers from Hebei to Rio de Janeiro, where they dedicated themselves to planting tea, there is no doubt that Macau has been trying to get closer to Brazil for a long time."

(Font: PontoFinalMacau.Wordpress)

This makes me think that, yes, Brazil and Macau may have met each other somewhere during the ~1810~, a little after the Portuguese Royal Court moved to Brazil. This is a HC, however.

(I DIDN'T GIVE THIS TITLE I JUST STOLE FROM THE SITE WHERE I GOT THE INFO OKAY I AM INNOCENT HERE DON'T LOOK AT ME)

CONCLUSION

AS YOU CAN SEE, there is too much to talk about them. But I had to stop here, because it is becoming too long. I would like to put more details. But you can research by yourself (if you understand Portuguese lol, or if I made another post like this, or to correct myself in the future(?).

Macau and Brazil, in my own views, do not have a fraternal bond (like Brazil and Angola, for example), however, this does not mean that the relations between these two are disposable. Quite the opposite.

Macau is a strategic point for closer ties with China, precisely because they have ties that unite them, which is the history with Portugal and the Portuguese language. (I may have read it in an article many years ago, but I don't remember it).

They do not necessarily need to see each other as siblings, but they can maintain a different relationship; like old acquaintances. Like...someone you have a fondness for based on your historical similarities!

Certainly. I don't see any problem with portraying Lusofam as a family in some type of AU, for example. Like, they all being siblings. I myself have already made drawings portraying May and Mimi as adopted siblings. And it is adorable to see them like this.

It is upon you. 🫵 This is just my vision on them. ☝️ I know I talked more about history and shit, but I think this way I could explain better my vision on them.

All the information I used has its fonts and credits.

Lívia (Angola) (c) @favichanwriter

[lizardonatoadstool]

Oakie the Acorn is the Best Mascot Ever

I don’t even go to this school I just love them. Here’s an interview they did for SUNY Mascot Madness.

Oakie - SUNY ESF

Who are you, where are you originally from, and where do you do your mascot thing? I'm Oakie Acorn (they/them), proud representative of ESF and its Mighty Oaks athletic teams! I was “born” when I fell out of ESF's Robin Hood Oak which means my roots go back to the Major Oak in England's Sherwood Forest. Maybe that's why I'm so merry! While most of my mascot duties have me in Syracuse, I also pop in at our Ranger School in Wanakena and our satellite campuses in the Adirondacks and Thousand Islands.

What's a unique new thing (building, club, activity, employee, etc.) on your campus that you treasure? The newly renovated Marshall Hall is wonderful! Open since 1933, Marshall underwent a major two-year reno re-opening in 2023. We kept the classic features, such as the spiral staircase and auditorium, while updating the building to a state-of-the-art learning center with spaces tailored to the needs of today's students. The building is home to our Landscape Architecture, Environmental Studies, and mathematics programs. Along with great classroom and studio space, there are plenty of study nooks for students to tuck in and do work between classes or meet with friends.

If you could start your own club or major on campus, what would it be? Wow! Difficult question because ESF has so many unique clubs, activities, and majors already! That said, I'd love to start an a capella group – Oak-apella! I don't speak, but I have a song in my heart and would love to hear ESF students sing. Maybe I could do some interpretive dance while they sing.

What's your hidden talent that you haven't told anyone about yet? Anyone on campus at night might have seen me skateboarding. The other day I landed a kickflip over the gap and was pretty stoked. Sadly, no one was around to see it. Flicks or it didn't happen, right? We do have some talented campus artists who have drawn me and my board though.

What campus cheer gets you pumped up and why? (with great enthusiasm)  O-A-K-I-E!  They're our acorn can't you see?  Sprouting strong through day and night  We've got bark and we've got bite!    ESF Orientation Leaders chant this while they lead our newest acorns to convocation. I love hearing it echo off the campus buildings!

What sport would you play if you were a student-athlete? I would join the Bass Fishing team in a heartbeat! I know when you think “acorn,” you think “land-based,” but I'd love to get out on the water and drop a line or two. There's so much more to me than most people know.    I would look awesome in one of the Bass Fishing team jerseys – provided they could get me an XXXXXL.

Read any good books lately? The Climate Optimists Handbook by environmental activist Anne Therese Gennari is a great read. Her book is about empowering people to get excited about changing the narrative on climate change so we act from courage and excitement to co-create a better world. She totally gets the ESF vibe! She was our commencement speaker last May and inspired our graduates and their guests to Improve Our World!    And of course, Braiding Sweetgrass by our own Dr. Robin Wall Kimmerer is always close at hand to read again and again!

Favorite pizza topping? Mushrooms. I love to top my pie with things I've foraged in the woods. Remember, you have to be very careful with mushrooms. I always take along a friend who has taken Dr. Alex Weir's mycology course to ensure I don't eat anything that could make me sick or worse!

If you were SUNY Chancellor for a day, what would you do? I would declare every day Earth Day in SUNY and plant pollinator gardens on every campus. I would also help other campuses set and reach their own Zero-Waste goals. Sustainability is a key component to helping the environment. I would then ask to be Chancellor for a couple more days to visit as many campuses as possible and see all the great things SUNY students are doing.  I don't know how Chancellor King does it all! Does he ever sleep?

How would you celebrate being named SUNY Mascot Madness Champion in 2024? The same way I celebrated in 2017 when I won the title – surrounded by the best students, faculty, and staff ever! We had a party that the whole campus attended. My friend, Victor E. Knight from SUNY Geneseo, was gracious enough to come and present me with the trophy and join the festivities. I think it would be great to host Wolfie on campus this year. 

[justforbooks]

Our Evenings by Alan Hollinghurst

Gay life in England across the decades, from the 1960s to the pandemic, is captured with glowing intensity through an actor’s memories

In what has become one of the defining rhythms of contemporary literature, Alan Hollinghurst’s novels appear at spacious intervals of six or seven years, each a solid architectural structure holding within it fugitive emotions and pungent atmospheres, each managing restraint and amplitude in tandem, each to be read slowly for its craftsmanship and with a greedy plunge of the spoon into the deft social comedy, counterpointed settings, and irresistibly expressive detail.

The Swimming-Pool Library (1988) is firmly established as a modern classic, though The Line of Beauty, which won the Booker prize 20 years ago, is probably his best-known novel: a Jamesian study of sex, class and power in Thatcher’s Britain. Since then, The Stranger’s Child (2011) and The Sparsholt Affair (2017) have brought some of Hollinghurst’s most remarkable writing. Investigations of legacy and memory, they are structurally fascinating in their use of discontinuous stories side-stepping across generations. But some coherence ebbed away in the gaps, and the daringly blank Sparsholt lead characters, for whom other characters felt so much, exerted on me a less certain pull.

Our Evenings leaves no such doubts. This is the story of Dave Win as he tells it himself, in late middle age, recreating with glowing intensity a sequence of formative or quietly significant episodes across six decades, from the 1960s to the pandemic. He is a boy at school, discovering the possibilities of music and drama, finding his own powers, shaken by encounters with prejudice and aggression, filled with unspoken ecstasies as his sensual attraction to men grows. He is a young actor with a subversive touring company in the 1970s; he is a lover, finding joy with his partners. He is an only son to a single mother, their closeness outlasting all change.

Dave is a gay man of a generation reaching maturity soon after decriminalisation, seizing his freedoms wholeheartedly amid intolerance. He is also half Burmese, though he never met the father from whom he inherited his Asian looks, and Burma is an unknown page of the atlas to someone whose familiar terrain sits under the “B” of Berkshire. The novel tracks the currents of gay liberation and race relations, not to mention a modern history of theatre and the arts, but with never a moment’s schematic overview: all is lived and felt idiosyncratically.

Going back, remembering his schooldays “in the far‑off middle of the previous century”, Dave begins among the wind and earthworks of the Berkshire Downs. It’s exhilarating up here, but he’s caught in joyless play with another boy, Giles, who says he owns it all and who’s currently administering a Chinese burn. Dave is 13, a new pupil at Bampton, on a visit to the family who have funded his scholarship. Already he needs to hold off the obtuse, entitled son who will go on being a bully, become a Tory MP and exert his power as minister for Brexit.

Growing older in parallel through the span of the novel, these two contemporaries converge intermittently, their encounters too incidental for any politician’s memoir but charged by Hollinghurst with tragicomic political force. “Tone deaf and proud of it”, Giles attends a concert at Aldeburgh, though his schedule as arts minister won’t stretch to his hearing the whole performance. Dave is on stage as the reciter in Vaughan Williams’s Oxford Elegy, “a strange late piece” for speaker and chorus, when the noise of Giles’s departing helicopter screeches through the hall. Fighting back, filling his voice with colour as he raises the volume, Dave throws his words “like a javelin” to the back of the room.

Yet Dave retains a lifelong respect for Giles’s parents, his sponsors, who are lovers of the arts, people with money “who do nothing but good with it”. Their house, Woolpeck, is a place of beauty, encouragement and refuge, one that Dave revisits in memory on “little mental occasions” that no one else could guess. Going on like frame narratives around the edge, these long enmities and attachments are touchstones, as the decades pass: measures of how imaginative life might be fostered and how it might be squashed under the heel.

Moving spaciously within this frame, Hollinghurst unfolds a sequence of superbly realised scenes. A summer holiday on the Devon coast gleams with the beginnings of erotic excitement as the 14-year-old watches, mesmerised, “the shifting parade of known and unknown men”. It’s bravura writing, quietly done, generously varied in tone as the Fawlty Towers comedy of hotel routine accompanies the beautiful seriousness of desire. It’s collegially reminiscent of other literary comings-of-age and seaside longings, but compellingly fresh page by page; no Proust or Mann or Alain-Fournier would have sent Dave off to the gents behind the esplanade.

Time, passing as the sundial says, brings Oxford gardens at sunset, theatrical triumphs, the “brisker tempo” of twentysomething life in London, bright with sex and energy, a potently drawn relationship with Hector, the Black actor who leaves Dave behind, their unlived future together “missed, incalculably”.

At the tender core of this novel lies Dave’s portrait of his mother Avril, a dressmaker, a white woman bringing up a mixed-race boy alone in the market town of Foxleigh. Our Evenings becomes a tribute to her: an intensely private figure, acute in perception, loving her son with a mighty steadiness, and finding her life partner in well‑off, self-possessed local client Esme Croft.

We see what young Dave sees of the way these women establish a home together, neither advertising nor concealing their love, forming a family unit with utmost care, though one so radical that it cannot be named. We glimpse, too, what the older Dave wants to understand and to honour: Avril on her own terms, “tough, unconventional”, creative and courageous. Dave acknowledges forebears of many kinds, from the writers he learns by heart to the old thespian whose secluded baroque acres have hosted “liberties … excitements”. Yet his most enabling and affecting inheritance is here in Foxleigh, in the conifer-shaded garden where, on the evening of his coming out to them and innumerable evenings after, Avril and Esme expressed their loving support with a modest chink of glasses.

Our Evenings forms a deep pattern of connection with its predecessors, while being an entirely distinct and brimming whole. If it’s a long solo, it is a various and populated one. Happily echoing with voices, it stays clear of pastiche. Its chapters feel inhabitable: places to which you might return for sustenance on “little mental occasions” as yet unknown. Hollinghurst is precise about sentiment in ways that put loose sentimentality to shame. And he is above all an appreciator, taking pleasure in the inexhaustible particularity of what people do and make and see. That capacity for appreciation acquires new emotional and political meaning here, in the finest novel yet from one of the great writers of our time.

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[best-movie-ever-tournament]

Island of Lost Souls:

It’s an adaptation of The Island of Doctor Moreau by HG Wells. It’s about a man who ends up on an island only inhabited by two weird scientists and strange hairy men, who he then finds out are actually experiments created by Dr. Moreau who is surgically turning animals into humans. It’s way better than the book in my opinion. TW for mentions of violence/torture and attempted rape. Bela Lugosi is in it as the Speaker of the Law. There’s an Oingo Boingo song based on it. it’s so good.

The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari:

Arguably the first TRUE horror film! The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari is a majorly influential German silent film from 1920, very easily streamed all over the place including YouTube! It had a tremendous impact on German and American cinema, especially in horror and later noir films, and featured fantastical elements of surrealism in its depictions and architecture that are incredibly endearing. The film is a tale of love, hypnotism, and murder. Fantastic plot twist for an early film, and Cesare is very very gender.