#and then realise that it all makes so much sense

[d-z20]

Neighbourly Care part 3 (NSFW)

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: You go home for Thanksgiving and who else joins your family but none other than their wonderful neighbours Agatha and Rio

-OR-

You struggle to make it through the meal and so does Agatha, but she "accidentally" spills her drink which means you fuck in the bathroom :)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, top Agatha, top Rio, fingering, oral, mention of humiliation kink

Words: 3.5k

A/N: THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR THE LOVE AND KUDOS!!! to celebrate here is a bonus seasonal chapter :D Happy Thanksgiving to those that celebrate, and to those who don't enjoy the chapter ;)

AO3 | Part 1 | Part 2 | Master List

A Thanksgiving To Remember

As the morning light filters through the blinds, the hotel room is dim and quiet. You wake up slowly, feeling warm and content, your body still tingling from last night. You shift slightly, realising that Rio is already awake. She’s sprawled comfortably on her side, her head resting on the pillow, her hand absently stroking your arm. Her eyes flicker open as she senses you waking, and she smiles at you lazily.

“Morning, sweetheart,” Rio hums, stretching and running a hand through her hair. “How are you feeling?”

“Good thanks, how about you?" You smile, feeling the pull of her easy, bright energy. Was she always so upbeat in the mornings?

“I’m great. But she,” Rio gestures toward Agatha with a playful smirk, “isn’t a morning person.”

Behind you, Agatha just grumbles in response, muffling her face into the pillow and pulling you closer into her. Rio leans over, a mischievous grin on her face as she brushes Agatha’s hair from her face. “C’mon, darling, I’ll make you coffee,” she offers sweetly, but you can hear the hint of a challenge in her tone. 

Agatha groans again but finally starts to sit up, stretching with an audible crack in her spine. “Fine, fine,” Agatha mutters. “But it better be good, or I’ll go back to sleep.” 

Rio laughs and gets up to make coffee, leaving Agatha to rub her eyes before looking at you. You share a quiet moment, the lingering energy from the night before making the air between you feel heavy with unspoken thoughts.

As Rio busies herself in the kitchenette in the corner of the room, Agatha grabs her phone and starts swiping through it. Not wanting to bother her, you reach for your phone too. You’re happily scrolling when a notification pops up

MILF 1 has added you to the group chat.

MILF 1 named the group chat Check-In Group

MILF 1: There. You can’t ignore us now, sweetheart.

You’re smiling at your phone when you feel Rio standing next to you, coffee in hand

“What are you smiling at? Not another potential date, I hope." She meant it as a tease, but you can hear the hint of jealousy in her voice.

“No,” you chuckle. “In fact, it’s just the opposite; Agatha is making sure that never happens again.” You tilt your phone to show Rio the notifications.

She looks down at your phone, her eyes narrowing slightly at the screen. “Why do you have Agatha saved as MILF 1?” she asks, raising her voice loud enough so Agatha hears.

You laugh nervously and quickly glance at Agatha, who’s sitting up now and lazily sipping her coffee, her attention on the two of you. She raises an eyebrow at you, her eyes glinting with something more than just curiosity.

“Well?” Rio prompts, clearly enjoying your discomfort.

You squirm under their combined gazes, feeling both flustered and slightly turned on. “It’s just the truth,” you admit sheepishly, your voice dropping as you fidget with the comforter. “She is a mom, and, well, I do want to f—” You stop yourself just in time, your cheeks heating as you look anywhere but at them.

Rio raises an eyebrow, a wicked grin curling on her lips. “Oh? And what am I saved as?” she teases, voice low and playful. “Please tell me it’s not just MILF 2.”

Your face goes hot, and you start fiddling with the comforter in your lap. “It might be.”

Rio bursts into laughter. “You really couldn’t think of something more creative?” she asks, shaking her head in mock disapproval.

Agatha’s smile never fades, but her eyes darken, and she stands up, stretching slowly. “Okay, on that note, I’m going to go shower,” she says, cutting through the playful moment. She gives Rio a brief kiss on the cheek before heading toward the bathroom. “You two behave while I’m gone.”

As Agatha disappears into the bathroom, Rio sets her coffee cup on the nightstand and leans closer to you, her expression shifting. There’s an undeniable heat in her eyes as her lips brush against yours in a kiss that’s possessive and urgent. “So you like to fuck us, hmm?” she whispers against your lips, her breath warm as it fans over your skin.

Your breath catches as her words sink in, and your body reacts almost instantly, a tingling warmth pooling low in your belly.

When the bathroom door clicks shut behind Agatha, Rio doesn’t waste a second. She pushes you back against the pillows, her touch both gentle and commanding. The electricity in the air is palpable as her lips find yours again, her kiss deepening with every passing second.

You moan softly when her hand trails down your side, grazing your hip before slipping under your waistband. She pauses just long enough to murmur against your lips, “You’re already so excited for me. Do you like it that much when I humiliate you?” Her tone is teasing, but there’s an edge to it that makes you shiver.

Before you can answer, Rio presses her lips to yours again, cutting off any reply as her hand moves with a confidence that leaves you breathless. Her touch is slow at first, teasing, as though she’s savouring every little sound you make in response. The tension between you builds rapidly, and the air is charged with unspoken need.

Somewhere in the background, you faintly register the sound of the shower running in the bathroom. Rio pulls back just enough to mutter against your lips, her voice low and dripping with desire. “I’ve got about ten minutes until she's done showering.”

Her words send a shiver down your spine, the hunger in her tone unmistakable. You swallow hard, your pulse racing as you meet her gaze. “I don’t think we’ll need that long anyway,” you admit softly, your voice trembling slightly under the weight of her intensity.

Rio smirks, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction at your answer. She wets her fingers with your arousal before burying two of them inside you, igniting a fire in your core that threatens to consume you completely. “So eager for me already,” she murmurs, her voice both teasing and utterly dominating. Her words make your breath hitch, the hint of humiliation in her tone only heightening your anticipation as she begins to fuck you.

There is no slow buildup, and Rio is mercilessly fucking you in seconds, pulling sounds out of you that you didn’t even know you could make; you’re pretty sure that the whole floor can hear you now.

She starts to pump her fingers faster, and you can hear how wet you are. She takes your bottom lip between her teeth and bites down before soothing it with a quick swipe of her tongue. "Shhhhh, baby, try and keep quiet for me; Aggie can’t know what I’m doing.”

The idea that this sex was potentially forbidden pushes you over the edge, and you grip on to her shoulders for dear life as your orgasm comes crashing over you. You pull Rio into a messy kiss to try and dampen your moans as you wind down. She pulls her fingers out, humming with pleasure as she sucks them clean.

“Fucking hell,” you pant.

Rio looks at you with a devilish grin. 

The sound of the bathroom door opening jolts you out of the haze. Agatha steps into the room, towel-wrapped and hair damp, her expression calm as she surveys the scene. Rio immediately freezes, her eyes widening slightly like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

But Agatha doesn’t say a word. She simply raises an eyebrow, a ghost of a smirk tugging at her lips, before turning back to the closet to finish getting ready. Her calm, collected demeanour somehow leaves you even more flustered than being caught outright.

The rest of the morning passes in a blur. After Agatha and Rio get you dressed, they drive you back to your college apartment; their voices light and playful. “Remember to actually text us this time,” Rio teases as she pulls up to the curb. “We’re not just for weekends, you know.”

“Yeah, text us, sweetheart,” Agatha adds with a soft smile. “We like hearing from you.”

“I will,” you promise, glancing at your phone, already thinking of what you were going to text them.

—

Later that evening, you’re mindlessly scrolling on your phone when you notice a new notification in your group chat with Agatha and Rio.

Check-In Group

MILF 2 changed the name to MILFs Anonymous

MILF 1: Rio!

MILF 2: Come on, just let me have this one thing :(

MILF 1: Fine, but Y/N, change our contact names now please

You roll your eyes at Rio’s antics but do as you’re told, not wanting to dissapoint Agatha; you still feel a bit guilty for having sex with Rio this morning.

—

Over the next few days, you find yourself texting with them more and more. The conversations flow easily—Agatha constantly checking in on you, always asking if you’ve eaten or if you’re doing alright. It’s sweet, in a way you didn’t expect, but it’s comforting. Rio, on the other hand, can’t resist sending her terrible dad jokes, which, despite your best efforts, always make you laugh.

MILFS Anonymous

~ 15:48

Rio: What do you call a group of crows that stick together?

You: Oh God, please stop

Agatha: Seriously. You’re not funny

Rio: VelCrows :)))

Agatha: Sometimes I wonder how I fell in love with you

Rio: It’s because I fuck you like there’s no tomorrow ;)

~ 21:17

Agatha: *click to open image*

Agatha: Huh, you don’t look like you’re doing much fucking to me

You drop your phone with a loud clatter. You were not expecting to see a picture of a Rio naked and tied to the bed with a vibrator pressed against her clit and by the looks of it, she had been like that for some time. You spend the rest of your evening fucking yourself to that image. Each time you think you’re done and can't cum any more, the image pops into your mind again, and you start to imagine all the things they would do if you were with them, and before you know it, your hand is back between your legs.

—

Thanksgiving break arrives faster than expected, and the familiar comfort of your parents' home feels like a welcome change from the chaos of college life. You arrive in the early afternoon, greeted by the warm aroma of roasted turkey and spiced pies wafting from the kitchen. It’s a little odd being home after everything that’s happened with Rio and Agatha, knowing they live just next door. You wonder if you’ll see them during your visit.

It turns out you don’t have to wonder for long.

A knock at the front door pulls you from your thoughts, and your dad answers with a cheerful, “Agatha! Rio! Happy Thanksgiving!”

Your stomach flips.

You appear in the hallway just in time to see them stepping inside, Agatha holding a neatly wrapped gift basket and Rio carrying what looks like a bottle of wine. They’re dressed casually but still look effortlessly gorgeous; Rio is dressed in a breezy striped blue shirt that’s half tucked into her jeans. The loose fit of the shirt somehow adds to her charm, her confident movements making it clear she’s completely at ease. Agatha, on the other hand, is the picture of sophistication, her fitted blazer in a warm mustard hue paired with a turtleneck and slacks giving her a commanding presence that turns heads—even in such a casual setting.

“We just wanted to drop this off,” Agatha says, her usual polished tone soft and warm. “A little something for the holiday.”

“Oh, nonsense, you’re not just dropping it off,” your mom insists, appearing behind your dad. “You’re staying for dinner. It’s the least we can do after everything you did for this one when they got locked out in the rain.”

Your heart nearly stops. You glance at Agatha, who meets your wide-eyed look with a calm, knowing smile.

“Really, it wasn’t any trouble,” Agatha says smoothly, a teasing lilt in her voice. “I mean, we could’ve just let them in with the spare key you gave us, but... well, we thought they might prefer a warm bed and some company at ours instead.”

Your cheeks burn as Rio chimes in, her grin bordering on wicked. “And they didn’t seem to mind one bit.”

Your parents laugh, completely oblivious to the deeper meaning behind the exchange, but you feel like you’re about to combust. Agatha and Rio both throw you brief, pointed glances before following your mom into the dining room, leaving you standing there trying to steady your racing heart.

—

Dinner starts off innocently enough, but the air feels charged in a way you can’t quite explain. You’re hyper-aware of Rio sitting across from you and Agatha beside you, their presence consuming all your focus.

Rio’s long fingers wrap elegantly around her wine glass as she listens to your dad talk, but her gaze keeps drifting to you, her lips curving into a faint smirk every time your eyes meet. Meanwhile, Agatha takes every opportunity to lean close, brushing her arm against yours under the guise of reaching for the breadbasket or whispering a sly comment in your ear that sends a jolt of heat straight to your core.

“You look a little flushed, sweetheart,” Agatha purrs at one point, her tone dripping with amusement. “You okay?”

You nod quickly, biting your lip to keep from saying something that would give you away. Rio catches the exchange and arches an eyebrow, her gaze flickering between the two of you knowingly.

It only gets worse as the meal progresses. Rio’s foot grazes yours under the table, lingering just long enough to send a thrill up your spine. 

When Agatha pours herself another glass of wine, she tilts the bottle toward you with a raised brow, silently asking if you’d like more. You nod, not trusting your voice. As she leans over to fill your glass, her lips brush your ear so faintly it feels like a whisper of air. “Behave, sweetheart,” she murmurs, her voice so low and intimate that a shiver runs down your spine.

You clench your thighs and glance up at her wide-eyed, but she only pulls back with that same subtle smile, her expression calm and unreadable.

You do your best to stay composed, but your mind is spinning. Every touch, every look, and every smirk makes it harder to focus on anything else.

Then, as if the universe wants to test your resolve further, Agatha “accidentally” spills a bit of wine on her sweater.

“Oh, shoot,” she says, dabbing at the stain with her napkin.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” your mom says quickly. “Y/N, show Agatha where the bathroom is, and grab her a clean top from the laundry room, will you?”

You nod, your pulse quickening as you rise from the table. Agatha follows you down the hall, her calm exterior betraying nothing, but you can feel the tension radiating off her like heat. You scurry off to grab Agatha a clean top and quickly show her to the bathroom.

The moment you’re alone in the room, she closes the door behind you with a soft click and turns to face you, her expression shifting from composed to utterly predatory.

“Finally,” she murmurs, stepping closer, her voice low and thick with desire. “Do you have any idea how hard it’s been to keep my hands off you all evening?”

Your breath catches as she backs you against the counter, her hands finding your waist and pulling you flush against her. Her lips are on yours before you can respond, the kiss hungry and demanding, igniting a fire in your chest that spreads through your entire body.

“Agatha, we—” you start to protest, your voice a shaky whisper, but she silences you with another kiss, her hands sliding up your sides to cup your face.

“They’re none the wiser,” she murmurs against your lips, her voice sending shivers down your spine. “Now, let me have you for just a moment.”

Before you can respond, Agatha’s hands drift lower, deftly removing anything on your bottom half that will get in the way of her goal and letting the fabric fall to the tiled floor. Her gaze darkens as she sinks to her knees in front of you, her palms sliding down your thighs, leaving trails of heat in their wake.

Her eyes flick up to meet yours, full of lust and mischief, as she leans in closer. “Dripping everywhere,” she murmurs, her voice husky and teasing, her lips ghosting over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. “Just like the first time we were in a bathroom together. Seems I have a knack for this, don’t I?”

Your heart pounds in your chest as her words hang in the air, her presence between your legs sending a surge of electricity through you.

It might be Thanksgiving, but your body feels like the Fourth of July when she drags her tongue from your entrance to your clit. She sucks it into her mouth and flicks lightly with the tip of her tongue before releasing it and going back to push her tongue inside you. The woman is on a mission and wastes no time in bringing you close to your climax in record time.

Her hand clamps over your mouth, not willing to risk you letting the whole street know that you’re going to cum, and then, with a final flick of her tongue, you’re glad she did because the orgasm hits you like a fucking 18-wheeler truck, your legs start to shake, and you have to grip on to the sink to stop yourself from collapsing. 

Your breathing comes in ragged gasps as the world tilts back into focus, your body still trembling from the intensity of what just happened. Agatha stands, her movements unhurried and precise as she grabs a tissue and delicately wipes the corner of her mouth, her expression one of calm satisfaction.

"Still as sweet as I remember," she murmurs, her voice low and teasing as she crumples the tissue and tosses it into the small trash can by the sink.

You blink at her, still clinging to the edge of the sink for balance, your legs shaky and your mind a hazy blur of aftershocks. Agatha’s hands are steady as she helps you straighten your clothes, her touch lingering just a moment too long, her fingers grazing the small of your back before she steps away.

She smooths the fresh top you fetched for her, giving herself a quick once-over in the mirror. Perfectly put together, not a single hair out of place. You can’t help but marvel at her composure, especially when you feel like you’ve just been turned inside out.

Agatha turns back to you, a soft, almost maternal smile on her lips as she gives your ass a light pat. “Go on, darling,” she says, her tone playful but firm. “Head back out there before they start to wonder. I’ll be right behind you.”

You swallow hard, willing your legs to cooperate, and make your way back to the dining room, still trying to regain your composure.

The two of you return to the dining room during dessert, the scent of sweet pies and coffee wafting in the air. Agatha looks completely composed now, her clean top fitting snugly as she takes her seat next to you. She even stops for a moment to dab a napkin at the corner of her mouth—the perfect picture of elegance considering she was wiping away the last remnants of your cum. You, however, can feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you settle down, trying not to meet anyone’s gaze too directly.

From the other side of the table, Rio watches the two of you with a smirk that’s far too knowing for comfort. She raises her glass in a small toast, the corner of her lips quirking in amusement before she takes a slow sip.

“So,” she says casually, her tone light but her eyes sparkling with mischief, “did the mess get sorted out?”

Agatha doesn’t miss a beat, shooting her a calm, collected smile. “All taken care of. They were very helpful.” She says, draping an arm around the back of your chair.

Your mother beams, none the wiser. “Well, that’s sweet. Always good to know you’ve got a helping hand.”

Rio stifles a laugh behind her hand, her eyes meeting yours briefly. The heat simmering beneath your skin refuses to let up, and you can only hope that dessert wraps up soon—before someone else catches on.

-----

"we could’ve just let them in with the spare key"

*humming* it was Agatha all along

⚠️Remember⚠️validation saves lives (this fic dies when I believe nobody likes it anymore because I have imposter syndrome)

-----

taglist: @aceday @valarmorghuli @ctrlamira @lezbean-with-a-side-of-dilfs @noturlondonboy @darkangelchronicles @4theluvofsapphos

[selfdesructivedisaster]

I’m glad you addressed this because I love hearing other people interpretations of Wicked and just because we disagree doesn’t mean we can’t be amicable! So thank you for starting the dialogue!!!

So I think the thesis of your rebuttal is that morally, Elphaba is so incredibly right in her goal that refusing to run away and fight against the facist institutions set up by the Wizard with her is in itself a ethically wrong choice that should be scrutinised, which I can totally understand in the sense of morality

And even though I agree with this morality statement, I think Elphaba is ethically right while emotionally neglectful. And I think her social ineptitude really highlights this fact

Elphaba’s is a character that the story repeatedly tells us has nothing and no one besides Glinda. Her family is ashamed of her, her fellow student are afraid of her, and the society she lives in as a whole detests her.

So when she decides to run away and fight the Wizard, she isn’t really leaving much behind. The only thing that could’ve kept her there is being with the Wizard, which she obviously wouldn’t want to do anymore because he’s a fraud. There is nothing keeping her back because as sad as it is, no one would really care if Elphaba just left.

Now contrasting this against Glinda is where we really start to see how much more Glinda has in comparison. She has loving parents and hundreds of friends who like and love her, she has big dreams of becoming a sorceress that she can still accomplish if she stays, and she has a comfortable life that she absolutely loves.

To summarise, speaking in respective relatives: Elphaba is trading a hard life for a harder life. And Glinda is trading an easy life for an impossible life

Putting it simply, Glinda just has so much more to lose in comparison, and Elphaba is too blinded with her hate for the Wizard, and her need to help the animals that she can’t see this!

She doesn’t realise how much she’s really asking of Glinda because she’s never really had to think of anyone but herself! She’s been isolated and alone for so long that she can only really think of her own thoughts and motivations when making decisions!

Elphaba’s motivations through all of act one are entirely selfish! The only reason she wanted to meet the Wizard was to be de-greenified, for personal gain! Not to say this motivation is bad! Selfish is too often associated as a bad thing or something to avoid, but after being hated and mocked your whole life, of course you’d want to change that!

Elphaba whole arc is that she goes from selfishly thinking about herself to selflessly thinking about others like her who she could help.

There isn’t a right or wrong choice in Defying Gravity because it’s really a lose-lose scenario! You either sacrifice everything you’ve worked up to and fight against evil, or you stay quiet and let injustice happen around you. Obviously there is a morally right answer but that answer comes at the cost of losing everything, which is so much to ask of a person, especially one who loves and values the life they presently have.

TLDR: Elphaba doesn’t have more to lose, if anything she has less. Glinda has her perfect life, if she leaves, she loses all of it. Elphaba already has nothing, so it’s a softer blow when she leaves it all. It’s selfish of her to ask Glinda to runaway with her because she knows Glinda would be sacrificing way more than her. Elphaba has the comfortability of the moral high ground to ask her highly selfish request.

Ps. Thank you for the reply! Hope you make another reply, I would love to see your rebuttal to this!!!!

I love how inherently selfish both Glinda AND Elphaba are as protagonists. But where one gets praised and admired for it, the other gets demonised and hated.

People always attack Glinda’s decision not to runaway with Elphaba, but no one acknowledges how overtly selfish it is to ask that of someone.

Elphaba is asking Glinda to throw her ENTIRE life away for her. To be ostracised and hated all throughout Oz when she knows full well how badly Glinda cares about what people think of her.

And while Elphaba is used to such ostracisation, Glinda is not.

It is an equally selfish decision to refuse Elphaba request. To perpetuate corrupt beliefs you don’t believe; in order to be accepted and validated by people in power.

They’re BOTH in the wrong, for entirely different reasons. It was an impossible situation with no right answer. And I’m sick of people acting like Glinda made the “ wrong choice ”

[therandompagesblog]

SKZ Pack Chapter 17

Trigger Warnings: Violence, angst

Minho and Jeongin walked through the woods until they reached a large compound that was enclosed around a wooden fence, except the entrance exit had a gate. It was eerie the compound they fell upon. It smelt like prison fumes. Minho and Jeongin felt sick to their stomachs as they took in their surroundings. They couldn't believe their mate was brought up here. Seungmin's statement before was an understatement it wasn't a breeding farm it was a prison of exploitation. No wonder Y/N didn't know how to be an omega. The omegas looked as if they were mistreated and abused here. The two wolves swore to themselves when they returned they would embrace their mate tightly and promise no harm would ever come to her. They were disgusted. There was an obscene amount of alphas around the compound who sat around doing nothing while the betas did their chores.

As soon as they reached the gate, they saw two beta's guarding the entrance. They were skinny, if not underfed, by the looks of it. The one on the left looked bored as if this was something he did on a daily basis until their alpha or head alpha dismissed them. "Who goes there? What do you want?" The male beta on the right questioned as he stalked closer, backing up when he smelled an alpha. He was unsure, uncertain. The other male beta looked nervous too. "We're here to see Omega Joshua. My name's Jeongin and I come from Straykids. Minho hyung here is an elder from Wolfgang and Wraithwood territory." Jeongin projected strong alpharism despite his minor nerves that were starting to bubble up. "Go and get Alpha Jackson. It's his son." The beta on the right ordered, causing Minho and Jeongin to look at each other nervously, they hadn't expected to encounter the head alpha but it does make sense. They wouldn't directly get an omega to speak to an unannounced alpha and elder, let alone be alone with them. "What is this Keegan?" A hoarse voice called out. Jeongin and Minho guessed this was Jackson. "They wanted to speak to Joshua!?" The beta named Keegan answered.

Jackson the head alpha was tall and very muscular. He had tattoos all up his arms and across his chest. His hair was dark brown like Y/N's but there wasn't much a resemblance there. Jackson stood tall as he looked at the two wolves. Minho had to hold his breath as he looked back at him. He had come across Jackson before and found him a bit of a problem. "Why do you want to see my son Josh? What is the meaning of this?" Jackson asked as he puffed his chest, trying to appear more threatening, but he wasn't. He looked like Changbin at the gym who tried to make himself look scary. It was laughable. "Your son is being accused of stalking my pack and sending my mate a threatening letter. We wanted to clarify before proceeding further so we wanted to discuss it with him." Jeongin answered firmly, accusing his son but also not accusing him. Jackson laughed and shook his head in response to the accusations. "Josh doesn't go out. I know that because he's with Alpha San all the time." Jackson laughed. "Bring him here boys. Apparently he's a stalker now."

Minho and Jeongin looked at each other confused but kept their cool. They weren't fully accusing him but they wanted to be certain before bringing Chan the bad news. Chan wasn't aware it was a 'Joshua' stalking his mate but what he did know was Seungmin was close to dragging him back here. "Come here, boy. Do you know them?" Jackson called out as he pushed a tall lanky omega in front of him. He looked like Y/N. He even had grey eyes too. "No. Why? Have I done something?" Joshua asked nervously. Minho sniffed him out and realised he was telling the truth. They felt awful to accuse an older brother Y/N asked dearly, but they couldn't understand why Chan's uncle wanted Y/N. "No. We apologise. We mistook you." Minho answered. "An elder getting something wrong. That's a first." Jackson laughed. "Who is this unlucky mate of yours? What's her name." "Y/N L/N." Jeongin stated plainly. "WHAT!?" Jackson shouted causing Joshua to shudder. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "She's with Hongjoong." "Maybe you haven't heard the news recently. Hongjoong is dead and Wooyoung has been banished with the rest of Ateez. Y/N is Straykids' soul mate." Jeongin answered coldly as Jackson stepped forward gripping hold of Jeongin by the collar but Jeongin did not care. He knew Jackson didn't care about his daughter. She was sold off because he wanted an Apex. This man in front of Jeongin knew she would be forced to the same proclamation. "How is my sister? Is she hurt?" Joshua asked as he tried to release his father's hand. "Did they hurt her, before you?" "Y/N was ill-treated before we found her. She has been nothing but spoilt with us. I promise we all love her very much." Minho promised earnestly.

Joshua smiled, tears threatening to spill as he thought about his baby sister suffering abuse. He couldn't think about her in that way. "I'm sure Ateez treated her well-" "You lie father. You sold her off because of that fraud. Because some man called Joshua told you, you would have an Apex but it failed. You thought your daughter could conceive one." Joshua shouted as he ripped his father off earning him a slap across the face. Minho went to intervene but Jeongin stopped him. They shouldn't intervene with another pack's discipline but Minho didn't want to see his mate's brother beaten. "You speak too many words boy!" Jackson shouted. "Wait. Joshua?! Is his name Joshua Bahng?" Jeongin asked. "You know him as well?!" Jackson asked. "We've heard of him as being a problem. We don't know much about him." Minho quickly intervened. They needed to keep it a secret that they were involved with someone like him. "He is a fraud. He pretends he's this high Nobel seer who can see things and connections. All he did was nearly cost me my pack." Jackson growled. "If you have nothing more then leave." "Thank you for your time," Jeongin said coldly, giving a blank smile. "Please tell me sister I love her. Tell her I hope she's happy." Joshua begged. "We will," Jeongin promised as they watched the wolves go back through the gate leaving the two out alone in the cold air.

The two of them walked silently back through the woods heading through Wraithwood to get to Wolfgang. They were silent but their thoughts were loud as they thought about what they had heard. If it truly was Joshua Bahng then they were in trouble and it made the two of them nervous. "What the fuck." Minho breathed out. It was a rarity to hear him swear. "I don't even know what to say." Jeongin sighed as they reached the clearing. "All I can say is, I want Chan and Y/N well away from him." "Agreed," Minho said. "I wonder who's cooking dinner?" Jeongin thought out loud causing Minho to cringe. "I hope it's Y/N or Felix. The others better not touch a pot." Minho growled out, walking faster to get home.

Taglist for the iconic readers:

@galaxy4489 @reallychaoticwoo @leezanetheofficial @mbioooo0000 @jisungs-iced-americano @maybeimmia @hwangrfrnd@wolfo2027 @kayleefriedchicken @leamueller920 @borahae-reads @jennibahng @cookiesandcreammy @jutdwae-flower @danceonmyheyday @jc003 @hpnsfwaddict @pixie0627 @maggicotton @jellymochii @itzreetal987 @jennibahng @vampkittenb82 @catlove83 @thatgirlangelb @hyunmikim @skzdreamer13 @liv1sworld @upsidedownchaire @jutdwae-flower @danceonmyheyday @tsunderelintz @notevenheretbh1 @catlove83 @h0rnyp0t @hash2013 @emi-han @iknow-uknow-leeknow @jigglypuff3000 @aalexyuuuhm @missseoulite @ihrtlix @estella-novella @xxeiraxx @fr34k4c1dr41n

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[heeseungiez]

nothing i don’t have | pjs

part 3: toenze

pairings! park jongseong x reader, ft. huening kai x reader

summary! it was supposed to be simple, you and jay would fuck whenever either of you felt horny — no feelings. but it was hard not to catch feelings where park jongseong was involved. so you took the easy way out: you ended it.

genre! texts, written fic, college au, love triangle (corner)

word count! 1.5k

content warnings! swearing

author's note! i'm sick and not doing ok but jay and toenze always is on the brain </3

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The last thing you expected to see today was Jay with an electric guitar. But here you were, standing in the Sanctuary Café in front of their live music stage, where Kai’s band was setting up. And he was a part of the band.

You had stumbled inside the coffee shop late, and the guys were already half-way through setting up. Not a single thing had been out of the ordinary when you came in. It was your boyfriend and his three other band members, each getting ready for practice. You greeted them with a smile and side-hug each, and it seemed like it would go the same way any other practice had gone before. 

But then someone new entered the shop. Dressed in a grey hoodie and flannel, your eyes widened at the sight of Jay. He held a guitar case in his right hand, and you thought, okay, maybe this is just a stupid coincidence, but then he noticed you, and he started walking toward you. So you thought maybe it was because of you.

And then Taerae spoke up, “Jay, hey! I’m so glad you could make it.”

You glanced at Kai, whose expression was just as puzzled as yours. He had no idea as well.

“Yeah. Thanks for inviting me.” Jay’s lopsided grin made your heart skip a beat, and you had to take a step back when he was close to the stage. “You guys were looking for a second guitarist?”

“We were?” Kai asked, giving Taerae a pointed look. The boy shrugged with a smile, unaware of the happenings between Kai, Jay and you.

“Yeah, I met Jay at a guitar shop, and heard him play. He’s actually really good, so I thought I’d ask him to come by. Honestly, I’d like to focus on vocals sometimes, so a second guitarist would be useful.” Taerae shrugged, giving his painfully sensible reasoning that nobody could refute without sounding like a petulant child. 

“I mean, I have nothing against it if he’s as good as Taerae says he is,” said Beomgyu, eyeing Jay. “But the girls are mine,” he joked, although his glare felt a bit too realistic.

“Yeah, I don’t mind either. We could use another visual, too,” Yujin reasoned. 

“Kai? It’s already three to four.” Taerae looked at the drummer, and he sighed in response. 

“Can we actually hear Jay play before we make any concrete decisions? Because right now, it’s all just opinions.”

Yes, that made sense to do. You nodded despite having nothing to do with the band and its decisions. But you knew that Jay truly was a genius when it came to playing the guitar. You’ve heard him play more times than you could count, and occasionally, those performances were specifically for you over video call or in person. You always loved listening to Jay’s playing and singing. 

When Kai glanced at you, he understood as much from your expression, and a small frown decorated his lips. He shouldn’t be jealous, he was the one dating you, yet the knowledge of everything that transpired between you and Jay, and your feelings for him made him scared for what could happen if Jay got his head out of the gutter and realised that maybe, he was also in love with you. 

“Okay. I can play a song I’ve been working on with Heeseung,” Jay said, getting his guitar out — it was Jane. With Taerae’s help, the two quickly set it up and connected it to the speakers.

When Jay started playing, you immediately recognised the song. It wasn’t finished as far as you were aware, but Jay and Heeseung had been working on it for quite a while. The song, Paranormal, meant a lot to Heeseung especially, so he wanted to make sure every single detail about it was perfect.

To you, it sounded amazing already, but considering Heeseung’s perfectionism, he probably always thought of something that wasn’t quite right yet. 

When Jay was done, everyone around him started clapping. Including you. There was no denying his talents, and Taerae was especially proud of being the person who brought him here.

“So, you write your own songs too?” he asked. 

“I’m still struggling with writing decent lyrics, but other than that, yeah.” Jay nodded, glancing at you. There were times you helped him write a few lines here and there, so you averted your gaze, biting the inside of your cheek. 

To be completely honest, what you and Jay had, to you, did not feel or seem casual in the slightest. Even Kai thought you two were actually dating at first. But that was the kind of person Jay was. Sweet, caring and affectionate without thinking much into it — he didn’t do it on purpose, it was just what he was used to. Small acts of kindness or even bigger ones, to him, were something he did because it was the normal thing to do. So what he perceived as casual was seen as so much more to anyone looking from the outside. Or to the one on the receiving end of it all. But you understood Jay better than anyone, unfortunately. So you couldn’t even delude yourself into thinking that confessing would lead to something. 

Letting go was the much better option. 

You were grateful for Kai. For being your anchor and for giving you the strength you needed to tear yourself away from Jay. 

“Then it’s decided, right?” Taerae looked at his band members, a proud smile gracing his lips. 

Beomgyu and Yujin agreed with eager nods, but Kai sighed. Glancing at you, he noticed you were already watching him, your smile supportive of whichever decision he made. 

And, to nudge him along, you said: “He is really good.”

“Ugh, fine,” Kai mumbled. “Would be a waste not to let him join if that’s what he wants.” Shaking his head, Kai’s attention was more on you than Jay.

“Welcome to the band!” Beomgyu exclaimed, instantly going in for a handshake with Jay. “I look forward to working with you.” The bassist faked a serious tone. “But seriously, though, the girls are mine.”

“Literally no girls want your loser ass,” said Yujin, rolling his eyes.

“You little—” Beomgyu put down his bass just to chase after Yujin who started giggling, running around the café in an attempt to escape.

Taerae and Kai laughed, shaking their heads. You, on the other hand, bit your lip and headed toward Jay while steeling yourself from whatever the conversation might lead to. 

“So, you want to join Kai’s band all of a sudden?” You raised your brow, and Jay looked almost puzzled that you spoke to him. Though he recovered quickly, nodding.

“Yeah, sure. Why not, you know? Taerae asked, and I didn’t feel like saying no.”

You hummed, a little in disbelief over the whole situation. You doubted Jay didn’t have any ulterior motives for joining the band, but you didn’t feel like bringing it up now since the likelihood of Jay actually telling you was little to none.

“It’ll definitely make it easier to find someone else then, since girls do love guitarists,” you commented with a light chuckle.

Jay smacked his lips together, shrugging. “I don’t think I’m really looking for any casual hookups anymore,” he said, which took you by surprise this time. “I’ve been wasting too much of my time not committing to anything. So it’s time for a bit of a change.”

“For joining a band?”

“For committing myself to something I love,” said Jay, a smile gracing his lips as he stared at you. There was a spark in his eye as if he could sense the way your heart skipped a beat, but then he chuckled. “I want to focus more on music, and Taerae’s offer was kinda perfectly timed.”

“Right, of course. That makes a lot of sense,” you agreed, nodding dumbly along.

“Why? Did you think I did this because of you?” Jay’s tone was teasing. He tilted his head and raised a brow at you, the corner of his mouth lifting into the signature lopsided grin of his that revealed his dimple. 

Your brain stuttered as you stared at him, blinking excessively. “No. No— obviously, not. Why would I think that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because you know that I missed you? You said we’d be friends but then you’ve barely spoken to me,” Jay explained himself, pursing his lips. “So, you could be thinking that.”

“I was not thinking that.” You furrowed your brows. “But you should’ve told me. I thought that since you’ve barely texted me that you don’t want to hang out as much anymore.”

“That’s not it, I just— I don’t know…”

“You can always talk to me about anything, Jay. That’s what friends are for,” you said, smiling thinly. “I’m glad you finally decided to pursue music, though.”

“Yeah, me too,” Jay said. 

“Okay, guys, stop messing around. Let’s begin practice!” Taerae exclaimed, clapping his hands. “Jay, can you follow my lead?”

tags: @moonpri @addictedtohobi @samsayssam @sillydallyz @semisemirin1i82

[animeyanderelover]

Dear lord above, I at least want to write something today but with the little energy I have I do not want to publish something that was requested and write it with less motivation so just have those quick Hc's.

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, stalking, blackmailing, threats, violence, disrespect, overprotective behavior, abduction, death

Tags: @lovley-valentine7

Fushiguro Toji Hc's

🪱​Toji for me is very interesting to view because he has been pushed to a point beyond return and he himself has embraced this fact already years ago. He just doesn't care about anything anymore. His wife was his only hope but even that has been taken away from him and with her death any chance for him to ever be a decent man has passed away too. For Toji you are no saving grace. How could you be when what he is feeling for you is so much more twisted than what he was feeling for his dead wife? As irresponsible and neglectful of other lovers and even his own child he is, Toji is actually very perceptive of his own emotions as soon as he realises that there is something brooding within him. His wife made him want to change and be a better person for her. That simply isn't the case with you. When Toji looks at you he only feels that primal desire to keep you to himself and to murder anyone who even attempts to get in his way. With no morals he feels like he has to uphold back and with nothing to lose either he willingly walks into the hurricane of his growing obsession. He wants it that way. Because whether he is going to admit it or not, those feelings make him feel alive.

🪱​Unashamed and direct, Toji is everything but subtle to express that he wants you. From the very first day he is suffocatingly possessive of you and aggressive and rude about it. He easily tracks you down via your odor as his experience of being an assassin really are more than just useful and overall just frightful for you. Honestly, he doesn't plan to woo you. He just wants you to be his and he doesn't expect to care about what you think. Initially that is indeed the case. That is until he discovers that underneath all that possessive greed other feelings for you start budding. Tender feelings which remind him of the emotions he had for his previous wife. He does care after all. Subtle changes happen only then but only when it involves you. He still continues his job of assassinating people as long as it earns him his money and he still doesn't give a shit about people overall. He doesn't have the capacity to do that. The only one spared from the blatant disrespect and rudeness he expresses to his surroundings is you. It's all he finds himself capable of. Better for only you, still the same asshole and ruthless murderer to everyone else. That should be more than enough for him.

🪱​Jealousy is not a word that Toji would use to ever describe himself. It isn't a word that you would use to describe him with either. Overly possessive is a description much more fitting for a man like him and it is indeed his raging possessive emotions for you that reign predominantly whenever he catches sight of someone else with you. However, he is no grown manchild who barges in the moment he spots such a sight as long as the interaction has a practical function like you buying something and asking for advice or taking care of other business. What Toji hates though is idle chatter with no bigger meaning behind it all and that is when he always interrupts the conversations and pushes you away. His enhanced senses give him the advantage of being able to tell when there is a case of someone liking you a bit too much and then everything is over. No matter what you do, the other individual always gets hurt and the best thing you manage to do is have Toji tone down his violent response to the point where no bones are broken and only a few large and throbbing bruises serve as a reminder for the next few weeks. It's no surprise that you never see the face of such people ever again.

🪱​Toji has confessed to you what he is doing to earn his money as he doesn't even bother to paint himself as the good guy. This is just who he is and how he does things and it only leads to you fretting from a very early stage on for everyone. He's made it clear to you that he is not going to ever murder you but everyone else is a free game and it is this fear that Toji uses to keep you on a leash if he senses that you have rebellious thoughts. He has absolutely no problems assassinating whoever is a thorn in his eyes but that doesn't mean that he brags about it in front of you. There seems to be some semblance of decency that he relearns as soon as he starts living with you and this is one of them. It's such a casual routine for him that it might even happen that he brutally taunts someone, swiftly ends their pathetic life afterwards and then brings some takeout back home for you and him. Still, if someone from your surroundings suddenly disappears you always know whose doing it is. He never confirms it verbally to you but sometimes his green eyes give you that look that have you quickly shut up. You've learned to know what it means. 'Careful now or someone else will be next.'

🪱​You're already stuck in a relationship with him long before he has abducted you but at that point you already know that this outcome is inevitable. However, despite all the shit you have grown through at that point already you still manage to be mildly flabbergasted when he one day drags you to the place the two of you will live in together from now on. It's a decently sized apartment and whilst the kitchen has already been littered with cups of instant ramen it is much cleaner than you expected. You find out soon after that this place has actually only been recently purchased by him and that's how you find out that he's basically been living in the houses of other woman or hotel rooms before he met you. He's literally telling you that he's been homeless before he decided to live together with you, realising that you shouldn't have to adapt to his previous lifestyle. He doesn't expect you to act like a housewife and keep the apartment clean though. By all means, you can litter too if you want to as he is used to living shitty. You do abide by some basic expectations you have yourself though as you do not want to live like a racoon in a trash can and Toji lets you do as you want.

🪱​After years of not having looked properly out for his own hygiene Toji actually finds himself caring about such aspects again but only because it is very obvious that it bothers you. He's never really minded that he smells like sweat, blood and fast food but you do, especially whenever he gives you a bear hug. He very much forces physical affection on you as he has only ever promised to draw the line at physically harming you. Honestly, you do realise from an early point on that Toji lives in a different world than you do and that you wouldn't be able to escape and run away from him even if you had the opportunity. There's no way for you to escape someone with senses as enhanced as his and immense physical abilities that easily outperform top athletes. So as strange and frightening as it is, you try to adjust to a life with him even if only to protect family and friends who are very much a green light for him to threaten and end if you do something stupid. You're actually allowed to go outside as soon as he knows that you have learned how things work but you aren't allowed to interact more than necessary and if you just want to go outside to have fun he always accompanies you.

[aviad1b]

I have some very mixed feelings about this.

I'll start by saying that I've been talking about the possibility of such a project for a long time now. I considered trying to do it by myself for myself just as a proof of concept.

So TL;DR: I'm conflicted, but in general - a fan?

On the one hand, I can see where David is coming from: yes, extending a language's grammar like that seems kinda... impossible. Especially with Hebrew. People tend to get fixated on these things, and Hebrew doesn't really have this sort of thing naturally.

On the other hand - didn't we ravitalize the whole goddamn language? And yes, it was never truly dead in the first place, not in the way that gentiles like to think of at the very least, but it wasn't developing as much and we changed that.

And also, think about it - how does modern Hebrew handle gender inclusivity at the moment? With notation such as את/ה and רוצים/ות, etc. It wasn't always the case. Think about it, it used to be that to be gender "neutral" you just use the male form. Then developed into masc/fem, then "neutral/fem" (which isn't even a good name for the notation because את/ה exists).

The truth is that while Hebrew is a very "kept" language, very protected, in the sense that it's vocabulary and grammar haven't developed that much in over a millenia - it's also kinda the most evolving, in a sense? In what other language are words still constantly made, constantly developed, all in a way that fits perfectly fine with everything that already exists? I don't really know many languages at all, but comparing to English at the very least, it's seems kinda crazy to me. Hebrew is a very flexible language, and I've been saying that the only way she's not flexible in is gender - why does it have to stay that way?

We proved that we can make major changes to the very way that people speak - or write, at the very least.

When I think about such changes... No, not just changes - developments, in the Hebrew language, I also find my thoughts wondering to something else - gentiles, antisemites especially, like to claim that modern Hebrew is completely different to traditional Hebrew (which is a claim that we all point and laugh at, since modern Hebrew natives can read and understand traditional and even ancient Hebrew perfectly fine). Maybe the reason I'm somewhat conflicted about this is because it will further support this "nerative" (lie) that it's become a different language? But that's dumb, languages develop and involve all the time, Hebrew happened to be a more protected language. Allowing it to be a bit more flexible doesn't make it any less "real". And besides, why should antisemites get to dictate what our language is like? That's just not right at all.

A problem that I still do have with this tho, has to do with vowels. In day-to-day, people don't write vowels in Hebrew. That isn't going to change and I don't think I'd even want it to change honestly. But it does make this more challenging - without vowels, how will one manage to differentiate בַּת from בֶּת , and אַתָּה from אַתֶּה ?

Or maybe that's a good thing? Because it'll make people able to "stealthily" use it, sneak it in without people realising and protesting? But then this isn't really the way I want such a notion to be used, do I?

The thing about developments in general, and in language specifically, is that they come out of need. If Hebrew fails to satisfy the needs of its speakers, what guarantee do we have of it surviving tomorrow? Pardon my pessimism, but being Israeli and Hebrew (yes I still use the old notion of Hebrew as in the ethnicity/people), I see more and more Hebrew natives approaching English more rather than Hebrew. Maybe even including myself - it's kinda my entire blog. I started catching myself thinking in English sometimes - I managed to come to the conclusion that a major part of this is because Hebrew forced me to think of myself in gendered terms. English does not.

This is what I mean when I say on my blog that I love Hebrew but she doesn't love me back

I've seen people use אתם/הם as pronouns in Hebrew. If it works for them then good for them, but to me, I simply cannot accept that this is the "best Hebrew can do". That's... still gendered. It doesn't suffice. I refuse to accept it as enough. It's not.

And yes, a major part of English influence on Hebrew natives (and Jews in general) is the fault of the internet. But, I do feel like there's more to it - for some at least, there's a need that isn't answered.

We Jews are experts at adapting "old", traditional concepts onto whatever the current times are; why should our language be any different? Perhaps we should consider that our very language is more like us than we think?

Can we get people on a major scale to fundamentally change the way in which they speak? probably not. Can we add another gender notion for people who want to use it tho? I'd like to think so. I like to think about it somewhat like neo-pronouns in English: when they were first introduced, almost nobody used them and people in general thought that they were weird. Heck, people STILL do. But it have some people, even if just a few, a new way to finally feel more comfortable with the language that is used for them - and that, on its own, should suffice. In my humble opinion, at least.

To sum it up, while my feelings about this are mixed, I also feel like if ANYONE could achieve such a project - it's us, the Hebrews, the Jews.

And I'm sure we will some day.

I can't believe anything else.

Because Hebrew is a gendered language, the Nonbinary Hebrew Project has created a third grammatical gender system! They are building a bigger tent for nonbinary Jews, guided by Torah and Talmud which teach us to rejoice that which cannot be neatly categorized.

The project is free, open-source, community-based, and grassroots. It lives and grows and changes with every single person who uses and adds to it.

Here are some example usages: Candlelighting Blessing: with gender-expansive God language

בְּרוּךֶ אָתֶה ײַ, אֱלֹהִימוֹתֵינוּ מַלְכֶּת הָעוֹלָם, אֲשֶׁר קִדְשֶׁנוּ בְּמִצְוֹתֶיהֶ וְצִוֶנוּ לְהַדְלִיק נֵר שֶׁל שַבָּת

Bruche ateh Adonai, Elohimoteinu Malket ha’Olam asher kidshenu b’mitzvoteihe, v’tzivenu l’hadlik ner shel Shabbat. Blessed are You, God, Ruler of the universe, who sanctified us with the commandment of lighting Shabbat candles.

~~~

Kiddush: with gender-expansive God language

בְּרוּךֶ אָתֶה ײַ,  אֱלֹהִימוֹתֵינוּ מַלְכֶּת הָעוֹלָם, בּוֹרָאת פְּרִי הַגָּֽפֶן

Bruche ateh Adonai, Elohimoteinu Malket ha’Olam, borat p’ri hagafen. Blessed are you, Lord our God, Ruler of the Universe, who creates the fruit of the vine.

~~~

Blessing over Bread: with gender-expansive God language

בְּרוּךֶ אָתֶה ײַ, אֱלֹהִימוֹתֵינוּ מַלְכֶּת הָעוֹלָם, הַמּוֹצִיאֶה לֶחֶם מִן הָאָרֶץ

Bruche ateh Adonai, Elohimoteinu Malket ha’Olam, Hamotzi'e lechem min ha'aretz. Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who has brought forth bread from the earth.

~~~

Waking-up Blessing: with gender-expansive language for the speaker, but traditional God language

מודֶת אֲנִי לְפָנֶיךָ מֶלֶךְ חַי וְקַיָּם, שֶׁהֶחֱזַרְתָּ בִּי נִשְׁמָתִי בְּחֶמְלָה, רַבָּה אֱמוּנָתֶךָ:

Modet ani l'fanecha, melech chai v'kayam, shechezarta bi nishmati, b'chemla, raba emunatecha.

I give thanks before you, King living and eternal, for You have returned within me my soul with compassion; abundant is Your faithfulness!

~~~

Morning Blessing substitutions: with gender-expansive language for the speaker, but traditional God language

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה ה' אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם, שֶׁעָשַׂנִי בֶּת חוֹרין

Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha-Olam, she-asani bet chorin.

Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the Universe, who has made me free. ~~~

Soulmate Blessing: written by Ariel Ezekiel Tovlev, with gender-expansive language for the speaker's soulmate, but traditional God language

בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְיָ אֱלֹהֵינוּ מֶלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם אֲשֶׁר עָשָׂה אֶת יְדִידֶת נַפְשִׁי

Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu melech haolam, asher asah et yedidet nafshi. Blessed are You, Ruler of the Universe, who created the companion of my soul.

~~~

Wedding-Enacting Words: with gender-expansive language for the one the speaker is marrying and for the ring, but traditional God language

הרי אתה מקדשה לי, בטבעת זת, כדת משה וישראל

Harei ateh m’kudesheh li, b’tabaet zet, k’dat Moshe v’Yisrael.

Behold, you are sanctified to me, with this ring, according to Moses and Israel. ~~~ For more examples, as well as charts explaining the grammar system, check out the website! A note from Jewish-LGBTQ: The Nonbinary Hebrew Project is primarily being created in the diaspora and is used for ritual purposes; queer communities in Israel have their own system for creating gender-expansive Hebrew. The Nonbinary Hebrew Project should be understood as creating a third grammatical gender for liturgical and ritual Hebrew, rather than for everyday, spoken Modern Hebrew.

[elfbotanist]

working on my version of veilguard, so far it goes like:

act 1:

exactly the same. inquisitor lavellan hired people who were unpredictable to track down Solas. And they did, untill that plan backfired. Well, shit. Solas is trapped. Evunaris are blighting the world with their two blighted dragons.

Solas continues to advice rook and rook informs the inquisitor. We need the wardens. But the first warden hates the inquisitor as much as he hates rook. Inquisitor is a wise woman, she knows she can talk down first warden so she does exactly that (you can do that as rook in game so why not as inquisitor? I seriously don't know why this game won't work if inquisitor was the protagonist but anyways it is what it is. Let's continue)

act 2: 

after weisshaupt's fall, thousands of wardens dead, inquisitor realises this is not going to work. A group of seven misfits cannot win a war against immortal gods. They had an army, a network of spies and alliances with two nations when they were fighting corypheus... they need that strength once again. So time for inquisition 2.0 (kinda makes sense why different provinces/organisations will be willing to make an alliance with a former hero with a name than a random kid). So rook has some ground work to do while the inquisitor sets up the new inquisition at the lighthouse, which is much easier because they got dreadwolf's eluvian. The lighthouse was the heart of Solas' rebellion and now it's functioning as that once again. Lighthouse servers its purpose. Every adviser is there, inquisitor herself now acts like an adviser and rook gets the job done.

But you cannot win a war against immortal "gods" without having an immortal "god" on your own team, right? You need everyone on your side, even the people you can't trust fully. Inquisitor understands this and some members of the inquisition, that is Cassandra, is more than willing to get Solas out of that prison and have a "talk" about varric. And Cole needs someone who can understand him "i do not understand...the demon behind the crow's eyes is a friend or a foe?". So the inquisitor makes a deal with the dreadwolf. Freedom in exchange of his alliance.

They track down the dragons. With the help of our new dragon hunter, remaining wardens, what's left of inquisition army, the crows/shadow dragons and the dreadwolf himself. Rook manages to kill the dragons and wound Ghilan'nain with minimum loss of life.

In Arlathan, Rook et al infiltrates venatori's ritual. At lighthouse Solas senses that Elgar'nan has trapped Rook and their companions. He informs the inquisitor that he can help...Inquisitor suprised from his eagerness to help rook of all people (whose daily agenda is to annoy Solas to death) is hesitant. Solas says he wants to save the elves just like inquisitor wants to save her people.

"There is no other motive behind my plea other than saving innocents from being sacrificed for Elgar'nan's sadistic whims, like I did during my rebellion...Trust me vhenan. I know his mind"

So rather than Rook just telling Lavellan that "Oh Solas is good. You should totally try to redeem him". I'd rather have Adviser Inquisitor Lavellan and Adviser Solas slowly grow close to each other once again, like they did back in skyhold. A perfect parallel.

We all know he can't help but rizz her again with his fade talk

"Allow me to show you something, Inquisitor"

"You and your sweet fade talk"

"No fade tongue this time"

They relive all dai solavellan scenes... Even the crestwood scene. (These parallel moments with her are important because we know she almost changed his mind. That's why he ran away. Avoided her like plague for last 10 years because she has that power. To change his mind. And reliving dai moments with her is going to be the catalyst when we have to stop him in the end and redeem him)

It's here, in the garden, she mentions the letter he had sent. He finally... FINALLY tells her everything. His past, the titans, the veil, the evunaris, the dagger, the blight... his people... him being a former spirit of wisdom... Everything. Lavellan connects the dots and asks if this is why he was so hurt when his friend, a wisdom of spirit was corrupted, because it was personal, because it was his trauma. All new, faded for her.

"Forced to do something against its purpose, fighting... Is that what happened to you vhenan?"

"Yes"

"But you were always wisdom to me. My Solas. My wisdom. Everyday at haven and skyhold...I saw the real you. I saw Wisdom. The self you're always mourning. I loved all of you. I still do."

"Your empathy is a blessing. Your spirit pure and unmarred."

"I am only human, Solas. And so are you"

"That I am. A broken man."

"Not to me my love."

act 3:

Eclipse takes place. Solas and Rook kill Ghilan'nain but Neve/Bellara is lost. With the strength of the new inquisition and its allies, it is much easier to get in Minrathous. Rook and companions along with Inquisitor and Solas fight the blight. Solas tells Rook and Inquisitor the blight can sense him, some intelligence is controlling the blight tendril. They need to get to Archon's Palace and kill Elgar'nan with the dagger, while he fight the archdemon.

"What? On your own?"

"Don't be afraid, vhenan. All these years... My feelings for you, they never changed. Ar lath ma"

There's pain in his eyes, like that night in Crestwood. She's not sure what he means.

"Solas..."

" Now go with rook. When next we meet, let us be standing over Elgar'nan's body!"

"Woooow... Your husband is a... dog?"

"That's a wolf rook and he's not my husband"

"He is huge though"

"And fluffy..."

"Inquisitor, you can dream about petting your wolf husband after we're done here."

"He's not my-"

"LET'S GOOOO!"

If Solas is Wisdom, then he is also Pride. In Emmrich words "He is however, a former spirit. Solas cannot help but listen to appeals to his nature... his yearning for reflection." And his duty to save his people. So one last betrayal from the dreadwolf. Blighted Neve/Bellara informs that killing Elgar'nan will destroy the veil.

"Of course he lied! I knew something was wrong... his eyes. He's a terrible liar"

"Inquisitor what are we supposed to do?"

"We stick to the plan, Rook. I'll deal with Solas"

*outside dreadwolf cries in pain*

"Solas..."

"Inquisitor, Solas will do his part. We must press on forward.

"Yes Cassandra, but I need you and Cole with me."

"I understand. Always with you inquisitor."

Inquisitor, Casandra and Cole fight the blight and darkspawns, helping rook and companions get to Elgar'nan.

But Solas can't win alone. Blighted Neve/Bellara uses her power to free Solas and he kills the archdemon, making Elgar'nan mortal. Rook and companions kills him and the veil starts disintegrating.

"I am sorry for this final betrayal. But when you'll see the old world restored..."

Rook persuades Solas. He relents but it's not enough.

"I cannot. To stop now would dishonour those I have wronged to come this far"

"Even if those you've wronged asked you to stop?"

"Vhenan..."

"You think you've gone too far to come back. But you're wrong! I am here, walking the dinan'shiral with you!"

"I lied. I betrayed you."

"I forgive you. All you need to do is stop!"

"Ir abelas vhenan. But I cannot."

(I had to add my boy)

*Cole*

"They sleep, masked in a mirror, hiding, hurting, and to wake them I must burn down the sky again. Break the old chains. But it's not enough. Never enough. This world is too real."

"Cole?"

*Cassandra*

"You need to stop"

"But Varric...."

"Not your fault completely. Honour the death of your friend. All those years ago. When I asked what do you believe in, and you said you believed in People. We are people. Have faith in us, Solas"

*Cole*

"I long for my home, my people, my world. But here is also home. Here is home. She is home. Vhenan, my heart. Ar lath, ma vhenan. Wherever you are, there is my heart. Wherever you are, I am home. She is home and my heart and a cold fortress in the mountains that shines so brightly because she shines, she has made it home and they were together, the Inquisition, my family.... You are not alone Solas"

*Lavellan*

"Banal nadas. Ar lath ma vhenan"

Solas breaks and binds himself to the veil. Vows to keep it intact, protect innocents and help with the blight.

He's ashamed. So ashamed but he needs her to know his sincerity. Needs her to know that he can be that man she fell in love with. Her Solas, as she has said that night in the garden. So he looks at her finally, in her eyes and says. "I will go now and seek atonement." It's a promise, of a better duty, a better path, for her.

"But you do not have to go alone"

"Ar ghilas vir banal"

"Tel banal ara'ma vir shiral ma'lasa. bellanaris"

"Bellanaris"

~

And now we turn to my beautiful city

Black skies changed into blue

And my love is so wise and so pretty

I no longer dream of her

cause she is real

she is here

she is mine

And I am whole

[whathorselegs]

I don't think Chuuya would ever be jealous of Dazai finding a new partner in Kunikida. However, I do think at first, he'd be resentful he was 'replaced' by someone as boring as an uptight pencil pushing nerd. If Dazai was going to find himself a new partner, he could have at least put the effort into finding someone with flair, with gravitas.

That is, until he actually finds out more about Kunikida. What a good martial artist he is. Kunikida might not live for the fight like Chuuya does, but he's down to get his hands dirty in fight and Chuuya admires that.

How loyalty to his own and protecting his friends is so important to Kunikida that he's willing to put his life on the line to keep others safe.

That Kunikida's sense of justice comes his own experiences and morals and it's not just what society tells him they should be.

Okay, yeah, Kunikida's still kind of a nerd, but he's efficient, perceptive, a quick thinker, he puts that academic nonsense Chuuya doesn't really care for to use out on the field.

And Kunikida can be pretty terrifying when he wants to be. Chuuya physically shuddered when he heard what Kunikida pulled to defeat Akutagawa. Both from his own awful memories of being electrocuted, but also a strange thrill, an excitement at the idea of going to toe to toe with someone so resourceful in a fight he's physically outmatched in.

And the resentment changes into admiration. In fact, Chuuya's starting to think Dazai doesn't deserve such a partner.

The next time the mafia and agency work together, Chuuya starts paying more attention to Kunikida than he is to Dazai.

Kunikida is oblivious, after all, he doesn't really know Chuuya. He's just happy to find a person from the mafia so cooperative for once. It's making the case go much more smoothly. He doesn't realise it's because Chuuya's actively trying to impress him.

And Dazai comes to the horrifying realization that Chuuya shamelessly is trying to poach his partner from him. Right in front of his eyes. Well, he can't have that, he will not be out done by Chuuya.

[mlyscha]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 𝒮leep 𝓸ver 𝗺𝗼vies.

★ ( 언하이픈 OT7 ) ── 𝓡EACTION: when you sleep in the middle of a movie night. genre. fluff, kind of domestic. 𝒻ℯ𝗆𝖺𝗅𝖾 𝗿𝖾𝖺𝒹𝖾𝗋! warnings. not proofread, english is not my 1st language. 𝓌𝒸. 1,OOO ♡ 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝗌, 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗮𝗹𝘄𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱! ( 𝐦𝖺𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍. )

𝒜!NOTE. i am back from the deathㅠㅠ i’m so sorry for disappearing you guys… oh boy this was A WEEK i might say. um, first of all! thank you guys for 200+ followers i promise this on comeback i will prepare something special! anyway, enjoy what i have written for you and tell me what you guys think about this new layout i am currently exploring ><

𝒽eeseung ( 희승 )

hearing your giggles or gasps during a movie night is something heeseung got used to, so, whenever he senses something feels a little bit off, he looks to his side checking on you ― knowing you well enough to tell that you were asleep. at first heeseung sighs because he made sure to ask you if you were sleepy before the movie started. however, in a caring way, he will make sure to take that snickers bar away from your grip, put it to the side, place a small kiss on your cheek, look at you for a minute, smile and then turn the movie off. the next day you wake up with your boyfriend with his head snuggled against your neck and the sun against your face, blinding you for a second. you didn't woke you with a sore body or anything, thanks to the comfy sofa!

𝒿ongseong ( 제이 )

you and your boyfriend had this movie night tradition, in which, every weekend there was a movie to watch together while cuddled up in bed. tonight couldn't be more different, and that applies to you being fast asleep against jongseong's chest; with not even half of the movie watched. your boyfriend knew how much you had worked throughout the week, hearing all of your struggles and complains, so, with that being said, he didn't and don't mind when it happens. he simply, carefully covers you better with the blanket, places a kiss on your forehead and caresses your hair until the movie ends and also ends being fast asleep. and the next day when you wake up with the smell of his cooking/baking, you wondered what have you done to be this lucky.

𝒿aeyun ( 제이크 )

while snuggling yourself under the blankets with your boyfriend, you complained that you felt tired and that you would probably get caught sleeping. hearing that, jaeyun simply shrugged, entertained by the movie's intro. meanwhile, after you laid your head against his chest you knew you were done. after a few minutes, jaeyun heard small snores and thought it was layla. however, when he realised layla was asleep on his little bed instead of on his feet, he looked over at you; realising it was actually you. watching you sleep in such a vulnerable state made his heart melt, murmuring in a small voice: "how can she look this cute...?"; then he proceeds to kiss your cheek and watches your nose scrunching with a grin, carefully placing another on your hair hoping you didn't wake up. the next morning when you hear him commenting that he thought layla was the one snoring instead of you, you felt like dying ― but it's part of the couple life!

𝓈unghoon ( 성�� )

you are usually the one insisting to watch a certain movie, and when sunghoon agrees you sleep; is simple as that. your boyfriend, when realises you are blinking in a slower way and that your shoulders feel relaxed, he pinches your arm, smile when sees you frowning with a hint of annoyance and says: "you're sleeping again, huh? think you can trick me now?" "i am not sleeping!" "whatever you say...". not a long time after, sunghoon heard you breathing deeply ― a sign that you were fast asleep. with that, he chuckles out of amusement and disbelief, rubbing his thumb against your cheek while admiring you. he sighs before turning the tv off and carefully picking you up, carrying you to sleep on the comfy bed recently bought and not forgetting to give you a kiss before laying by your side.

𝓈unoo ( 선우 )

one thing that you love in your relationship is how much your partner understands you and looked after you, and that is related to these movie nights. both of your faces covered with a green face mask, cuddling on bed while a romantic comedy movie plays on tv. it feels so cozy and comfortable that all of the exhaustion during your work lays on you at this exact moment, leading you to a deep sleep. sunoo couldn't ignore the silence of the room when expecting you to laugh on a comic scene. feeling your relaxed body, he immediately knew you were sleeping. without making any sound or abrupt movement, he went to grab a wet towel; coming back just to wipe the face mask off of your face, making sure you slept comfortably without worrying about the green staining anything. your boyfriend wipes his mask off as well, laying on bed by your side and sleeping while hearing the music playing while the movie credits began to show.

𝒿ungwon ( 정원 )

jungwon, even though he is a caring boyfriend, he can be playful too! so, in this case, when watching the movie with you and then realising you were slowly falling into a deep sleep, he whispers into your ear: "are you asleep?" you hum a 'no'. "are you sure?" this time you whine, opening one of your eyes. "what do you want?" "nothing." and then later, when he catches you almost asleep again, he teases: "you are almost asleep!" you wake up this time, whining. "what do you want?!" "nothing." but then, when he turned his head to tease you again, you were prepared, looking at him deep into his eyes. "i am not asleep," "mhm... your eyes says otherwise," "shut up, you are losing the movie's best part." "why are you looking at me then?" "right..." you try to keep watching the movie, but then, finally, jungwon watches you sleep without saying a word, chuckling and giggling in amusement.

𝓇iki ( 니키 )

even though riki is the most playful member, this time he would be considered one of the sweetest. and that is because while spooning (you were the big spoon this time), you began to caresses his hair while watching the first ten minutes of the movie. however, riki caught your caresses lacking, proceeding to slowly look up at you, realising you were asleep. he smiled, letting out a nasal amused chuckle, kissing your chin, then trying his best to carefully switch role with you and be the big spoon. when riki finally did, he took a deep breath, feeling your arms tighten against his waist. he murmurs how cute you looked before placing a last kiss onto the crook of your neck then sleeping while feeling your warmth; hearing the forgotten movie playing on the background.

© 𝓪𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝓮, 𝗺𝗹𝘆𝘀𝗰𝗵𝗮 𝗌𝓽𝓾𝖽𝗂𝗈𝓼. ⋆

[crowleysgirl56]

As a (former*) obsessed wrestling fan I can’t believe I never realised the presence of kayfabe in Good Omens before. This meta makes so much sense!

Months ago I ever posted a fanfiction prompt idea for a Human AU wrestling story. Aziraphale would be an old school traditional pure striker wrestler coming to the end of his career (the last of the wrestlers who styled themselves on showmen like Ric Flair or Dusty Roads), Crowley would be a baby face new blood who is all about pushing limits and death defying stunts (like a Matt or Jeff Hardy). Rivals both in and out of the ring they’d be forced to compete as a tag team. Enemies to lovers story of course. Potential for either happy or angsty ending. In the end I didn’t write it because I’m not that good at long fics, but happy for anyone to run with the idea if they like.

@ao3cassandraic you’re so right about Crowley putting on kayfabe when he’s drunk on laudanum in the Resurrectionists mini-sode. I totally thought he was putting that on, like someone who’s had one or two glasses of wine but act like they’ve had six.

Love this meta, and the little mind exploding head scratcher at the end there!

*for context, I used to love the wrestling, though hadn’t really consumed it or watched in the last few years (I was definitely an Attitude Era girl). But with the recent SA reports against Vince McMahon and some of my (again former) favourite wrestlers coming out as Trump supporters I have left that world behind me.

Kayfabe: A Good Omens meta

"Kayfabe," in wrestling, is the performance (including outside the wrestling ring) of whatever storyline is being woven around the wrestlers. Breaking kayfabe is Serious Business for a wrestler; the illusion is part of the event. If you ever wondered how John Cena could anchor an entire HBO miniseries brilliantly, kayfabe is a big part of the answer.

Because of their histories and how their respective Head Offices treat them, Crowley and Aziraphale approach their version of kayfabe -- their whole "I am an angel! You are a demon! We're hereditary enemies!" schtick, also their "we are good bad proper little footsoldiers, honest, Boss" schtick to their respective Head Offices -- very, very differently.

I promise there's a point to this. I PROMISE. But let me walk through it first.

Both of them know that one awkward question to Upstairs at the wrong moment and its Fallsville. Crowley, however, knows a couple of things that Aziraphale doesn't have to:

Punishment isn't just once; in some ways, the Fall is never over. Beelzebub or Hastur can throw you in the Dung Pits whenever, after all, or feed you to a Hellhound, or zap you like an Eric. Crowley's lot do not send rude notes. (s2: we do not know what happened to Crowley after Hell dragged him back at the end of the Resurrectionists 'sode, but I think it safe to say it was not great for Crowley. Litotes: your key to quality meta.)

Downstairs can and does check in -- or drag Crowley Downstairs for a chat and possibly a bit of idle torture -- whenever they feel like it. Downstairs seems pretty disorganized, especially its leadership, so I'd expect ad-hoc surprise inspections from them. Downstairs can invade Crowley's flat's TV, his Bentley's radio, and his very mind to perform those inspections. Crowley is never, ever safe from this. He can't relax. Ever.

Heaven, on the other hand, has 37 levels of scriveners and zero interest in Earth. Talk of "reprimands" and "miracle budgets" and Michael being a stickler and whatnot suggests a formal review process happening on a schedule, governed largely by the dreaded (but quite possibly fake-able or spinnable) "paperwork" rather than direct observation by Aziraphale's peers or superiors. Otherwise, Aziraphale is usually left to his own devices. Remember how startled he is when Gabriel shows up at the sushi restaurant in s1? This is unusual!

(We also know from Muriel that Heaven's records office doesn't seem to get consulted a whole lot. It's possible this just means that first-through-thirty-sixth-level scriveners handle everything, but in my experience of large bureaucracies, it's the folks at the bottom of the hierarchy who invariably get run off their feet first. Don't see why Heaven would be any different.)

Moreover, Heaven's punishments seem pretty light, on the whole? Our angel is so anxious and so sensitive to slights that I'm sure the reprimands aren't fun, and nobody likes a reduced miracle budget... but Heavenly "needs improvement" reviews don't seem to be a patch on the Dung Pits. The real threat is Falling, which is more than horrible enough to serve as deterrent; Heaven doesn't need to add torments.

Moreover moreover, Aziraphale is mostly aligned with his Head Office in a way that Crowley really, really isn't. I'm sure Aziraphale does a lot of his Heaven assignments with a song in his heart and a skip in his step -- it's mostly not smiting or the like. Crowley... probably spends a lot of his work time figuring out how to obey the letter of Hellish law while defying its spirit. Crowley's in far more danger of angering his bosses.

So Aziraphale doesn't have to keep up kayfabe a lot of the time, not even while interacting with Crowley. He can and does save it for the rare occasions Heaven takes a personal interest. Crowley, however, must keep up kayfabe always, whether Aziraphale's there or not. The courage it must have taken that snake to slither up the wall of Eden!

The way Crowley navigates his permanent need for kayfabe is twofold. First, his all but instinctive refusal to accept any positive word or compliment about himself or his actions from anyone ever -- "I'M NOT NICE!" If Hell were ever to hear someone characterizing Crowley that way... That's also why Crowley is a bit less exercised when Jimbriel calls him nice: "nobody'll ever believe you."

Second, a species of Orwellian doublethink: maintaining a running commentary in his head of how he's going to justify any unHellish actions to Hell, since he can never know exactly when he'll have to or what exactly they'll have a bug up their butt (sorry, Beez) about. Even high as a kite on laudanum in the Edinburgh cemetery, Crowley can explain his current justification (in a curiously sober voice -- is Crowley ever really high in that scene? or is it all kayfabe? I lean toward kayfabe) to Aziraphale, "Not kind! Off my head on laudanum, not responsible for my actions."

We can see the kayfabe mismatch play out a few times, and it does appear that Aziraphale gets more concerned for Crowley's safety and more aware of Crowley's need for kayfabe post-Arrangement. That doesn't mean he always remembers, of course -- he wouldn't, he just doesn't have that same desperate need. And, of course, the ineffable walnuts do not communicate, as s2 went to some lengths to point out. I do think kayfabe is part of that -- it's hard for Crowley to be sincere when he's constantly doublethinking, and Aziraphale's off-and-on involvement with kayfabe (and all his other tendencies toward lying) disincline him to achieve or even learn about honest communication.

One s1 scene I went back and rewatched while thinking about this was the Globe scene, which contains Aziraphale's Saint-Peter-esque three-time denial of Crowley. I find it easy now to read that as Aziraphale going "oh crap do I need to drop back into kayfabe now? I didn't break kayfabe, did I?" and Crowley grinning, at least partly as reassurance. (Partly, of course, because Aziraphale is cute and funny even when kayfabing -- and partly because Aziraphale's sudden drop into kayfabe is Aziraphale trying to protect Crowley, of course Crowley's pleased by that.)

The wall pin, now that I think about it, also gains a little nuance from this. Crowley's fear-laced ire is genuine, but how many times must Aziraphale have heard Crowley snarl at him not to break kayfabe in this way? No surprise he's a little unimpressed. (With Crowley's demand. He's clearly very impressed by Crowley.)

In the s2 Job minisode, Aziraphale hilariously drops kayfabe (and that epic whole-body halo, loved that, great job FX folks) almost immediately. Crowley allows it, because Crowley is on firm ground -- Hell will be just fine with Crowley wrapping the angel in a Chuck-Jones-cartoon amount of scroll parchment and flipping him off.

When angel and demon collude on the con later, of course, they observe kayfabe, improv-style -- Crowley helps Aziraphale deal with the Job's-children situation without giving either of them away to the watching angel posse. Interestingly, it's Aziraphale who de-gecko-izes the kids. That gives Crowley an out, sort of: "look, the mansion collapse missed them because they were in the cellar, I turned them into geckos, totally Hellish thing to do, they'd never survive in the wild, but then this bloody interfering angel went and changed them back!"

And how does Crowley console a distraught angel who thinks he's about to be dragged to Hell? Crowley explains kayfabe in the fewest and clearest words possible. "Well, yeah, you did, but... I'm not going to tell anybody. Are you?"

So yeah. That's kayfabe for the Ineffable Walnuts.

But I promised there was a point to this, didn't I? Yes, I have a point.

My point is...

my POINT is...

my point IS...

(not dolphins, not this time)

My point is, how much of s2's Final Fifteen Minutes is kayfabe?

That's my point.

[kindaasrikal]

Cole and Nya’s relationship is very special to me, even despite the love triangle thing, which you could technically say helped develop their relationship. Especially with how it links to their mothers.

Cole and Nya are both familiar with loss, specifically in regard to their parents. They both lost a parent(s) at a young age, and quickly became independent because of it. They learnt how to survive on their own without depending too much on their only family left. They both care deeply for the ones they love and are sensitive to their emotions, and when they were left with only Lou/Kai as their only family, they didn’t want to rely on two people deep in grief and were deeply effected by that loss.

They both are stubborn and sure, protective and confident, but they are both also soft and kind underneath all their layers, Cole showing that more than Nya.

I like to think that while the whole love triangle thing and love machine fiasco was annoying, you could actually twist it to show how it developed their relationship. Jay is the one Nya loves, that is not something you can change or even disagree on, seeing as she was willing to lose everything that makes her her for him, but the perfect match machine doesn’t have time be explicitly based on romantic interest. The machine is essentially like a ‘soulmate finder’, so it’s easy to say that one of Nya’s soulmates are Cole.

Soulmates have been shown in many different ways, and in this case its not showing a soulmate in the sense of a ‘one true pair’ or someone who you are inexplicably tied too, but someone who understands and can click with you a whole lot easier than most.

That buddied up with the whole love triangle thing definitely helped Cole and Nya realise how similar they are to each other, and how they deeply care for each other as siblings. Almost like twin siblings if I’m being honest. They don’t give a younger and older sibling vibe thats for sure. More like two twins where one is an aggressive wild animal and the other is also a wild animal but they don’t have as much of a temper as the other weirdo.

My favourite scene of their relationship is in Dragons Rising where Nya hold her hands against Cole’s cheek after not seeing him for months upon months.

Now about their mothers….

Knowing all of this, connecting it to how they both see their mother in each other seems so much more special.

Cole and Maya have both said ‘Its how the cookie crumbles’, both in relation to Nya. After Nya was possessed by the overlord, Cole tries to comfort everyone by saying that line, implying how its just how things must be, the same way Maya has towards Nya specifically, telling her that life is difficult, no matter what we try. Nya doesn’t know they both have said this, but its still so important how its come in full circle towards her, from her beginning all the way to her supposed end.

And then you remember how both Nya and Lily have worn the same kimono. The same kimono Lily wore, and the one that Cole gave to Nya.

ITS THE EXACT SAME.

Cole willingly gave him dead mother’s kimono to Nya, his sister.

Nya and Cole were never supposed to be in a romantic relationship, they were both have such a strong platonic love for each other it hurts. They both have similar experiences and similar personalities yet still have their differences, but those differences aren’t as big as most people would’ve expected.

I love these two so much they so deeply care for each other im going to cry i hope they don’t die for Jay.

[flyflutterby]

The leaks leave me so confused tbh

Ochako isn’t raising her pinkie to avoid floating Deku during that leaked reconnection moment and she wasn’t wearing the gloves that would make that unnecessary. (Also, people are saying it’s the last panel of the epilouge, yet it doesn’t have the usual ending box.)

Jirou has both her ear-jacks in some of the leaks and some characters are missing scarring. There’s one panel where Bakugou’s hand is drawn from an odd angle that lowkey does not look good posing wise (Horikoshi is usually a GOD of drawing and posing hands, so I legit thought that was a fan drawing, until someone said it was apparently a leak?) Also, Todoroki’s face looks like it changes in structure between some of the leaks, but maybe I’m just imagining that?

Then there’s Deku rejecting Bakugou’s offer to join his hero agency so he can keep teaching. It feels like yet again he’s copying All Might to his own detriment, because even if he likes teaching, his arc, focus and drive has always been heroism. All Might becoming a teacher was because his whole thematic purpose was to pass the torch on that would lead everyone into a brighter future. Deku’s motivation has always been to save people as a hero. Furthermore, even if you don’t ship BakuDeku, they have always been thematically tied as heroes.

“Win to save and save to win.”

Wasn’t the whole point of Deku’s narrative was that he was going to destroy himself if he kept going it alone? Yet, he’s pushing Bakugou away after everything is done (Kirishima apparently even jokes that Bakugou got rejected/dumped? Probably not an accurate translation but STILL-!) Izuku feels flanderised, borderline OOC. Bakugou looks so fucking sad and resigned too. I want better for him as a character I watched grow over the years as I read the manga.

To clear things up, I ship BakuDeku, but I wasn’t expecting canonicity.

My problem is that I love platonic IzuOcha. Maybe a part of my reason for liking them was projection, but that’s what media is about. Enjoyment, interpretation and discourse. I can only speak to personal experience.

I lost a friendship with a guy as a young gay girl because people kept joking/insisting I liked him romantically. I pulled away like Ochako did, doubted my sexuality and tried to convince myself the awkwardness was butterflies, before finally coming back to sense. I did not get my friend back after things broke down. I yearned so bad for subversion, for a platonic IzuOcha that overcame the silliness (implanted by a girl who shipped All Might and Midnight because they stood next to each other during the Sports Festival and All for One’s literal spy at the time) to become best goddamned friends and great heroes. It just felt like Ochako didn’t think of Deku like that until someone else said it to her (very much teenaged behaviour).

I initially loved the reconnection scene as their friendship being cemented, as them drunkenly coming together to realise they missed each other. I thought it was so sweet and I was so HAPPY. I read it as drunk but platonic.

Then people kept saying this confirmed IzuOcha canon romantically. I fell down a rabbit hole. I ran through a gambit of all sorts to shitty emotions before I regulated myself to write this.

I’m tired and confused, my dudes. I’m going to stick to my little corner once I got this out. I got exams to prepare for, life to live and a loving girlfriend to hug. Still kinda upset, but my weird, autistic, gay ass can heal.

Stay hydrated and healthy x

[daydreamer-in-training]

✨OP Advent Calendar 2024 Masterlist✨

Door 1 - What Corazon would gift you for Christmas

Donquixote Rosinante x Reader

Word Count: 1.000+

Themes: You are on the run with Corazon and Law; fluff; comfort; its Christmas but Corazon forgot; size difference, confession of love (sorta); no use of Y/N

Notes: Oh wow happy first day of December everyone and happy first Advent as well! 🎀🕯️Please enjoy the first entry in my OP Advent Calendar! I wanted to pair this with Doffy, but it got longer then i anticipated and I think it deserves to stand alone. Corazon! I love that Man so much, its my first time writing for him, i hope i did him justice. 🙏🏻

I'd Love to hear the Christmas traditions from the places you come from! ✨ Have a wonderful day everyone!

Please note that englisch is not my first language!

Advent Calendar Taglist:

@jintaka-hane @armiliadawn @stuckinmymind22 @chibinasuu

The snow slowly fell onto his big feather coat and enveloped everything around you into a quiet canopy of white.

Corazon was enjoying this little moment of peace with you. Law was asleep already. He had been rejected by two doctors today, and Cora sensed this was slowly getting to that poor kid. After he was tucked into a warm sleeping bag and an extra blanket for extra warmth, Law fell asleep immediately.

You and Corazon - or Rosinante as you‘ve come to have known after he told you the truth a few weeks ago - had the first moment to yourself since he took you and little Law away from his brother's clutches. You leaned against his big shoulders, covered from the cold by the large black coat you two shared. Bathing in each other's quiet presence brought you two much-needed calmness in this dire situation.

As he wanted to snake his arm around your waist, you stood up, earning a confused look from the marine. You smiled gently as you leaned down to your backpack. What you pulled out was a little white mess with a red bow Cora couldn't make out.

His eyes followed every move you made with curiosity as you sneaked over to Law's sleeping form to place the thing next to him. On closer inspection, he realised that it was a stuffed animal in the shape of a polar bear. His lips escaped a gasp.

A quiet laugh escaped your lips when you saw his confused face as you came back to him. “I thought he deserves a little something…“ You settle back down in your place at his side, his big hand finally finding its place around your waist “You know, since it's Christmas tomorrow and he has been through so much…“ He gave it a gentle squeeze in acknowledgement as you explained further “It's his first Christmas without his Parents and Sister. It's not much I can provide, but it's at least a little something“. Between the three of you, you don't share much money at the moment.

You heard a low sob coming from above you and turned your head towards the source. "Rosi... it's okay" You gently wiped a tear away that was running down his cheek.

“That poor kid…he has to relive this tragedy over and over again“, Corazon sobbed as he watched Law's sleeping form slowly rise and fall with every breath. „And I‘m not able to help him…“ he grunted in disgust at his incapacity to help him and you. He just wanted to give you a better life by taking you away as well. „And you are to be dragged along, day after day, in the freezing cold“. And he even forgot it was Christmas.

As he felt you slip away from his side again, he sobbed further, rubbing his eyes with his arm to hide his pathetic tears.

You two shared passionate nights at his brother's residence before all this. Only to blow off steam, you were never more than fuck-buddys. And now he wasn‘t sure what you were, since you two haven‘t shared so much as a slight touch in weeks. But deep down he not only yearned for your body, but for your warmth, your smile and your presence.

Contrary to what he thought you felt for him at this moment, you weren‘t angry and fed up with him. With every day you spend with Rosinante and Law, your fondness of this gentle giant grew.

After some rustling of your backpack, he felt you come closer again and take your designated spot by his side. “Corazon… Rosi… look at me“ You gently beckoned him to look you in the eyes by cupping his cheek with one hand.

He opened his eyes to find your gentle smile beaming up at him. Oh, how he grew to admire that smile!

“I was saving this for tomorrow, but I think you need it now“, you said with a teasing tone. What you held up to his eyes, was a bottle of a very fine whiskey. It was adorned with a red bow, just like the present you had for Law.

“Merry Christ-“, before you could even finish that sentence, you were pulled into an embrace by Corazon. He nuzzled his nose into the crock of your neck and took in your warmth and scent. It grounded him. You were like a beacon in a snowstorm to him.

After you adjusted to the unforeseen position by straddling his lap, you sneaked your arms around him and graced his neck with your fingertips. His body was still trembling but his sobbing stopped at least.

Since he had grown up as a Celestial Dragon, his first impulse was to shower you with all the riches you could imagine. You deserved no less. But at this moment, he didn‘t have the means to give anything of that sort to you. He only had one thing to offer, but he would offer it to you wholly and truly.

Corazon gently grabbed you by your shoulders to make you look at him. “I forgot it is Christmas tomorrow“, he confessed, his tears all gone now and only a serious look on his face. You listened to him intently while watching his face contour with anxiety. “And unlike you, I have nothing physically to gift you“, he gently grabbed your smaller hand in his large one and guided it to hover over his heart.

Your eyes widened in disbelief as you realised what he was doing. He pressed the palm of your hand gently to his chest and placed his above his beating heart. His amber eyes were transfixed onto yours. “I only have my heart to give to you… and I…“ he swallowed the lump in his throat “I mean it! So take it, it's yours if you‘ll have me!“.

You gasped as warmth exploded in your chest. You pressed your forehead to his and closed your eyes for a moment to collect yourself. His arms found their place around your back again.

“Donquixote Rosinante“ you whispered as tears welled up in your eyes. „Of course, I will take it“ your answer came out in a little sob. “I hoped for it!“. This was the most wonderful Christmas present you‘d ever gotten. No riches in the world compared to the love of this clumsy and kind giant.

All the tension left his body as he processed your answer. And so he held you in his arms, huddled in his warm feather coat to enjoy this little moment of happiness with you.

.

[rahuratna]

I honestly needed a moment to appreciate just HOW MUCH you poured into this story. I'm going to start by saying that this is such an incredibly evocative take on a 'grey' version of Nanami. It captures the essence of who he'd be without being bound to duty and sacrifice: Nanami the hedonist. I can't believe I just typed that, lol, and thank you for allowing me to do that, truly.

Firstly, the choice of 'The Tempest' as the play they are watching is wonderful. The idea of freedom from constraints, whether physical or not, ties in so beautifully with the Dorian Grey AU idea. Nanami's union with the reader later becomes exactly this, a means to break free from the chains that tie him to the past and prevent him from healing fully. He becomes a hedonist in the fullest sense, but without the pathos and sordid nature of the character of Dorian Grey. Nanami, instead, returns to a scarred self that is more whole and beautiful for its truth.

Kat, just writing this out is making me realise how marvelously you've pulled this off.

Furthermore, there's something so rich and lush in your writing of this one. Your story is packed with sensuous detail, such as the way their anticipation and excitement reaches a crescendo during the course of the play. I love the way that was written, and I felt every moment of it, that familiar sensation of knowing someone you admire and desire could, in all likelihood, become your lover. That entire scene is just injected with that specific type of electric longing.

Then there was the conversation between them, echoing so beautifully some of the interactions between Dorian and Basil in the book. While Basil falls under Dorian's spell (and is wholly wretched because of it) here we see your take on a reversal of roles, where Nanami becomes entranced with the reader, enough to allow her into his inner sanctum, not so much the show of trust as a means to relieve himself of the burden he has been carrying.

This is where your portrayal of his character shines: he never loses his quiet fortitude, his desire for something better for himself, a way out of the labyrinth that eternal beauty would give him. Nanami would never be satisfied with that status quo, even as a 'grey' character. His need to be seen as his true and authentic self would always win.

Then there's the intimate scene between them. Phewwwwww. Kat. The passion between them was off the charts and in a FULLY MIRRORED BEDROOM of all things. Thank you for this blessing. 😭

But again, I have to delve deeper into that and marvel, once again, at the thought you put into the symbolism here. He makes her look at herself, and him in his scarred form, a complete and TRUE union, since a mirror shows you all your flaws and your beauty, in unrelenting detail.

And the final scene, in which she looks up at the mirror and sees their lovemaking in all its glory, her realisation at that point that what they are creating is beautiful for the truth and purity of its form, the most intimate of acts without concealment or the deception of an enchanted portrait, is such a fulfilling end to this stunning  tale.

Kat, thank you for giving me such a glorious read this evening. I took my time and relished every moment of it.

A "The Picture of Dorian Gray"!- inspired Nanami fic in two acts (From my Jjk Penny Dreadful Series-here)

*°࿐ Synopsis: After a harrowing escape from the hell of Shibuya, Nanami Kento finds a dark, twisted method to conceal the deep wounds forever etched on his flesh and spirit. He relocates to Malaysia, shedding his former identity in search of s fresh start, driven by the allure of an hedonistic lifestyle. He quickly resigns himself to a solitary existence, prioritising secrecy above all else's -that is, until one evening at the theatre, when your paths fatefully cross. What will happen next in this unfolding tale of tragedy and rebirth?

*°࿐Tags: Act 2- Nsfw + dark content (Katoptronophilia- mirror kink, softdom!nanami, fem! masturbation, pinv, breeding kink, graphic description of scar and injuries)

This work is part of the SPOOKINKY 2024 event hosted by @tsukimefuku 🖤

"Behind every exquisite thing that existed, there was something tragic (...)Nowadays people know the price of everything and the value of nothing." -Oscar Wilde

࿐✧˖*° Fic Moodboard here✧˖*°࿐

Beneath the dim, flickering glow of the bakery where you work everyday, you move like a shadow, wiping the counter where the day’s sweet offerings linger—croissants, chocolate éclairs—fragrant remnants of a life half-lived. The scent clings to you, comforting yet oppressive, as you linger on the past. A year has passed since you fled into this quiet corner of Malaysia, seeking escape, yearning for the hum of the ocean outside your window. Here, in the solitude of this bakery, you’ve become a ghost—part of the background, invisible to all but the clock and the empty tables.

Yet tonight, something stirs deep within you. At the end of your shift, you return to your cozy apartment, heading to your bedroom to let your fingers graze the golden ticket on your nightstand, a silent promise of a dream that has been lingering in your personal space for weeks: The Tempest. Tonight, the magic of Shakespeare’s world will finally become your own. You slip into the emerald night dress you bought for this occasion, catching a fleeting glimpse of a brand new woman reborn in the mirror, staring back with a defiant gaze.

…

The air of the theater hums with electricity as you step inside, your dress shimmering like a forest at dusk. Eyes turn, glances linger. The crowd falls into a hush, a soft murmur ripples through the room. You feel their gaze—a strange, unknown sensation, both exhilarating and disquieting- you’re definitely not used to being the focus of the attention around you. As you navigate the rows to your seat, eager to find yours and hide among the crowd of faces, a chill runs down your spine. There, across the balcony, a familiar figure watches you—a tall, elegant man, poised in a timeless black tuxedo.The tailored jacket hugs his athletic frame,  the deep midnight black fabric contrasting strikingly with his fair complexion. A white pocket square elegantly peeks out from the breast pocket, while a finely knotted bow tie adds a sophisticated touch. His reserved nature, shadowed by a hint of intrigue, seems to enchant every woman in the auditorium, inviting curiosity from all who cross his path. With an air of mystery that surrounds him, he garners attention effortlessly, embodying both charm and enigma in every subtle movement.

It’s him—Mr. Nanami, the enigmatic man who has haunted the bakery for months. Always at his corner table, always with a book in hand, always distant, as though carved from some distant age. His gaze is now fixed on you, unblinking, his caramel eyes drinking in every movement you make. Even among the crowd, he is a statue, an artifact of mystery, his blonde hair gleaming under the theater’s lights, his presence too immense to ignore.

«If by your Art, my dearest father, you have

put the wild waters in this roar, allay them.

The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch,

But that the sea, mounting to the welkin's cheek,

Dashes the fire out.»

The character of Miranda finally speaks, signalling the start of the play. Lights go off, the world fading into darkness around you, but his gaze never wavers. It pulses between you, an electric current that thrums in your chest. Even as the actors bring the stage to life, Nanami’s attention is all on you. His eyes trace the delicate curve of your neck, they notice the way the silk of your dress clings to your feminine figure—every movement, every breath amplified. In the silence between the scenes, memories of brief encounters in the bakery flood both of your minds—small gestures, the fleeting brush of hands as you served his command. Every mundane act now seems to acquire a deeper meaning, hinting at the long buried electricity now resurfacing in all of its power.

The actors' words echo in your mind, their tale of rediscovery mirroring your own. You feel the thread between you and Nanami tighten with each passing scene. Your heartrate is accelerates inexplicably, his hands itch imperceptibly. By the play's end, the applause is drowned by the weight of his gaze, a fleeting glance that feels like an unspoken invitation. The crowd fades, and you are lost in the depths of his eyes—amber pools that seem to hold unspeakable secrets. What darkness lingers behind them? What truths lie hidden beneath his composed exterior?

In that moment, you are both spectator and part of the story, caught between the stage and the gaze of the man who watches you from the shadows, as if you are both part of the same forgotten tale.

The applause swells, a rising tide of sound that drowns everything around you. The faces blur, the claps echo like thunder, and your senses are swept into the frenzy. Yet, goosebumps rise along your exposed back, a shiver that has nothing to do with the cold. In the midst of chaos, your consciousness fails to identify the tall figure slipping quietly behind you, a shadow stretching long across your seat. But your body doesn't: every fiber of your being tenses in alert, time stretching as if waiting for something to happen at any moment.

Nanami’s hand lingers for a heartbeat before resting on your shoulder, a firm, yet gentle touch. The unexpected pressure makes you gasp, the sound barely a whisper.

"Mr. Nanami... What a surprise," you murmur, turning to face him, your voice trembling like a prayer as you feign surprise. His name spills from your lips, the remnants of the performance still thick in the air.

"Good evening, Mrs... I apologize for the intrusion," he says, his tone softer than you expected. "I saw you in the crowd and... I couldn't resist."

His apology is followed by a smile—small, sincere, and unlike the elusive stranger you’ve come to know. You blink in disbelief, caught off guard by this sudden warmth.

"Good evening," you reply, your words stammered. "No need to apologize. I’m glad you noticed me." Beneath the surface, you are deeply surprised by the fact that he did really recognize you, a simple waitress, a face everyone easily forgets.

He chuckles softly, eyes flickering with interest as he watches you. "The actors were amazing tonight, weren't they?" he continues, easing into the conversation. " Yes, indeed” you answer “I've always been fond of drama... the way music, scenery, poetry, and dance all blend into one living thing."

He catches the spark igniting your eyes as you speak, lost in your own enthusiasm. "Yes, I think it's the perfect kind of art... a fusion of all forms. A single experience woven from many threads."

He watches you, entranced by your remarkable passion for arts. Nanami always secretly thought you looked beautiful, admiring your kind nature from afar while you served tables at the bakey. But tonight he can't help feeling drawn to your every movement, noticing every detail of you, the most attractive woman he has ever laid eyes on in a while. Suddenly a low chuckle escapes him, catching you by surprise: "A real aesthete, aren’t you? I think I’ve finally found a worthy companion for my abstract musings." He muses.

You smile back, amused by the compliment. "So…you are... an ‘aesthete’ too?" you ask playfully.

"Ah... I prefer the term hedonist. There's a difference. An aesthete merely appreciates beauty for its own sake. A hedonist seeks to immerse themselves in it, to live for the pleasure it brings. Do you understand?" He smiles wryly.

You nod, half-missing the full meaning. "It makes sense to me... though 'hedonism' isn't a word you hear much these days."

At your remark, something flickers in his eyes—a momentary hesitation. His gaze drifts away, as though lost in a distant thought. Then he snaps back,as shaken from a dream.

"I have a question for you," he says, his voice now heavier. "Since you’re so drawn to this kind of topic... what do you think? Does life imitate art, or is it art that imitates life?"

You blink, caught off guard. His question is as profound as it is unsettling. Sensing your confusion, he continues, voice tightening with a quiet vulnerability.

"I know it sounds tautological... contradictory, even. But these thoughts are born from years of reflection, of trying to make sense of life."

He pauses, and for a moment, the air between you thickens with unspoken tension. The weight of his words settles around you, and you sense his inner battle—fear of revealing too much.

"Life is indeed the most intricate of masterpieces," you say softly, your voice soothing the strain in his words. "But I believe we create it. We choose the colors, the shapes, the shadows of our existence."

His eyes soften, a long, silent moment passing between you. Then, as though the walls around him have cracked, he sighs, and his words spill out.

"I’ve always had a special sensitivity... but my past... it hardened me, consumed me. I spent years hiding from it, burying my feelings beneath logic and calculation. And when I finally faced those demons, I realized..." He trails off, the confession hanging between you.

You wait, breath held, as he collects his thoughts. "I thought the pleasures of art and literature were gone forever. I thought I had lost them. But then..." He falters again, lost in the depths of his own emotions.

You try to simplify his cryptic confession. "So... you retired early and moved to Malaysia, didn't you? It's not something to be ashamed of, it's common practice here, Malaysia is such a dreamy place. I myself have left everything behind and fled here…" You try to make him feel at ease, failing to notice the deeper meaning behind his words.

His lips curled up in a faint smile, a touch of sadness in his eyes. How could such a pure soul like yours grasp the horrors hidden behind his elegant appearance? "Yes... escaping a life I didn’t recognize anymore seemed the only choice I had a year ago."

You smile back, unaware of the weight of his past, yet moved by his vulnerability. "It seems like we both needed to escape something,then" you say gently.

He watches you intensely, and for a moment, the shadows of his past flicker in his gaze, along if something else- quiet admiration for your spontaneous genuineness. Then, without warning, he clears his throat, inviting you to continue your discussion elsewhere:

"I hope you won’t misunderstand," he says, his voice low and hesitant. "But...would you join me for a drink tonight? I’d love to continue this conversation... and perhaps share a book with you. If you'd allow me."

You accept without hesitation, the thrill of the unknown surging through you. Walking side by side along the moonlit shore, your steps are light, the air thick with possibility. The evening unfolds before you, a path leading to an unseen discovery, your heart fluttering, unaware of the darkness that lurks just beyond the light of the moon, reflected inside his golden irises.

The ebony door creaks open, a haunting sound that reverberates through the dimly lit corridor as Nanami, with an air of quiet dignity, unlocks the entrance to his home, his quiet sanctuary. Leaning forward, he flicks the light switch, and with a courteous gesture, steps aside, allowing you to cross the threshold. Click. A warm, golden light floods the space, spilling like liquid amber into the darkness, inviting you into the treasure trove that is Nanami's home.

As you step inside, the musty scent of aged books mingles with a faint undertone of turpentine, whisking you away to a distant realm where art and literature reign supreme. The air is thick with stories untold, whispers of creativity echoing off the walls. Each available inch of wall space is claimed by an eclectic mix of paintings, their colors vibrant against the deep shadows. Books of every genre crowd every angle of the refined, tastefully furnished open space that stretches before you. Your eyes widen, your jaw drops; you are mesmerized, trying to absorb every intricate detail of this artistic sanctuary.

"I hope this is to your liking," Nanami's amused chuckle pulls you from your reverie, his voice like a gentle breeze stirring the still air.

"This... all of this... is yours? The paintings, the books, the antiques? How...?" You stammer, incredulous, as you survey the vast collection that feels both intimate and monumental.

"Yes," he replies, a contemplative smile gracing his lips as he leans against the doorframe, the shadows dancing across his features. "This collection is my legacy, the thing I’m most proud of..." His voice trails off, and as you admire his possessions, you fail to notice the way his gaze lingers on you, filled with a blend of longing and admiration. In his mind, your figure blurs with the contours of the most graceful of Aphrodites, the missing piece of his collection, the first soul to step into his sanctuary after a long, lonely stretch of time. He watches you spin around his living room, a vision of grace in a flowing dress that clings to your curves like a delicate drapery on a marble statue.

He could grow accustomed to this sight, to you... And in that fateful moment, he lowers his guard, granting you access to the most secluded part of his soul, a realm he has shielded jealously over the years. "Why don’t you take a tour of the house while I pour us a drink? What do you prefer: Cabernet or Whiskey?" he asks, his genuine smile like a rare gem in the dim light.

"Thank you, I’d like to explore your collection further… as for the drink… you choose, surprise me," you reply chuckling mischievously, a thrilling tension crackling in the air as your eyes lock with his, an electric connection that sends shivers down your spine.

The floorboards creak beneath your feet as you venture deeper into the labyrinthine layout, navigating narrow corridors flanked by towering shelves that groan under the weight of Nanami's extensive collection. Each step draws you further into his world, a place where dreams and memories intertwine.

As you explore, you ascend the stairs to the first floor, stumbling upon a cozy library. A plush, crimson armchair beckons you, piled high with dog-eared paperbacks and a precarious tower of art monographs. The adjacent bookshelf stands as a shrine to literary giants—Austen, Dickens, Joyce—their timeless works nestled alongside a first edition of Hemingway's "The Old Man and the Sea."

You are about to descend when something catches your eye: A door at the end of the corridor is slightly ajar, challenges you, invites your curiosity. A thrill courses through you, an all-consuming desire to uncover the mystery hidden within. Drawn by an unseen force, you approach, your heart racing as your trembling hand hovers over the doorknob. With a gentle push, you swing the door open, and a sudden burst of light slices through the darkness, momentarily blinding you. As your vision clears, you find yourself staring at your own reflection, an astonished figure in a green dress, caught in the web of shadows.

Stepping further into the room, you realize you’ve entered Nanami's peculiar bedroom. A quilted round bed dominates the space, surrounded by floor-to-ceiling mirrors that create a dizzying effect, reflecting your image endlessly in the dim light. Your gaze travels, and you find a portrait hanging on the wall—a blond man who looks strikingly like Nanami, but marred by burn scars that crisscross his body like a roadmap of pain, telling a story of flames that once ravaged his skin. His eyes, a deep, piercing gold, seem to harbor the weight of those infernos, a flicker of fire still smoldering within.

“Is this... Nanami?” you whisper to yourself, disbelief coursing through you.

"So you found out..." a faint, emotionless voice emerges from the shadows, and you immediately turn: Nanami stands on the threshold, his attractive features marred by a mask of suffering and resignation. He holds a single book in his hands: The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde.

"Nanami... I didn’t mean to intrude. The door was slightly open, and I..." you stammer, searching for an excuse. " But…What is this? Who is the man in the portrait?" you finally manage to ask, your voice trembling with confusion.

His gaze drops to the floor, a deep sadness enveloping him. "I wanted to lend you this book…maybe it would have helped you better comprehend this situation of mine. I’ve always related to Wilde’s work…and its Preface holds everything I’ve painfully learnt about life” his words ring hollow in your ears, emptied of any meaning. “This portrait... It represents the state of my soul. This... is what I really look like." His voice is heavy with truth, and the weight of his words hangs in the air like a dark cloud.

A storm of questions swirls in your mind, casting you into a sea of panic, while your gaze flashes between him and the man of the picture "This...  it can't be real. Nanami, what really happened? What is this story about?"

"Please, listen to me..." he interrupts, his tone now urgent, demanding your full attention. "Over a year ago, I was involved in an accident in Shibuya,on the night of Halloween and got severely injured. I barely managed to survive, but half of my body was burned, damaged irreparably..."

He takes a step closer, his expression lost as he struggles to share his truth. "When I woke up in a hospital bed, I took a look in the mirror, and realized I would have never been the same man I was.” He pauses, trying to steady his accelerated breath “ seeing my condition, an old friend of mine decided to set off, travelling the world for weeks in search of a way to restore my appearance. And I thought he had returned victorious at first, when he proposed to me an ancient curse allowing me to channel all of my pain and ugliness into that portrait. So I ended up switching places with the man now hanging above my bed. My friend helped me escape to start anew in this secluded place of Earth, but the truth is that this was never meant to be a blessing…with time I fell prey of the illusion of my appearance, trapping myself in a cage of mirrors, constantly afraid to see my real aspect resurfacing…I’ve been such a fool to forget the real nature of this expedient: a curse will always be always a curse"

He retreats, hiding behind a wall of shame and guilt. "I don’t expect you to understand. You know nothing of the world of sorcery from which I came... and...I wouldn't blame you if you turned your back at me now, pointing at me like a devil…"

As he fights to suppress the lump in his throat, you stand in front of him, your knees threatening to give in at every word spilling from his mouth. But it's in this moment that you see his true nature for the first time—a broken man, whose defenses are now crumbling under the weight of his long-buried secrets. "I’ve missed my chance with you, I cannot hide from the monster I’ve become," he whispers, his voice cracking with guilt and regret.

Without thinking, you step forward, closing the distance between you. Nanami's breath hitches as your hesitant hand cups his chiseled jaw, grounding him in the moment. It is high time to free him from the demons of his past.  "Destroy the picture, Nanami... don’t let that portrait weigh down your soul any longer." 

Your words provoke an earthquake into Nanami's world: his eyes widen, meeting the compassionate determination in your gaze. "And this doesn't change anything, I’m not leaving…You don’t have to hide anymore, not from me," you say softly, knowing in your heart that this moment could be the key to unlocking the darkness that has held him captive for far too long.

…

His resolve wavers as he gazes upon your lips, mere inches away from his, a tantalizing promise lingering in the air. The last thread of self-control snaps when you pull him closer, pressing your curves against his sculpted form. In that intoxicating moment, he crashes his mouth to yours, a desperate kiss that spills forth your insecurities in a breathless plea for understanding. Lips collide, and the world fades, leaving just the two of you suspended in a cocoon of time and space. 

Fingers roam restlessly, exploring, dancing over each other’s bodies in a fervent embrace, like lightning illuminating a starless sky with passion's raw energy. The kiss deepens, heats, igniting flames of longing as he pins you against the cool surface of the mirror, your bare back shivering at the sudden chill. He looms over you, strong and commanding, tension rippling through his broad shoulders before he seizes the lower edge of a golden-framed picture, throwing it to the ground with a shattering crash. 

The echo reverberates through the room, breaking the spell that held you. As the cursed image lies in shards, you blink to find the real Nanami before you, a man sculpted by both fire and fate, his scars merely facets of a twisted charm. He holds his breath, waiting for your response, his vulnerability laid bare in the depths of his eyes. 

You stay silent at first. Your trembling fingers deftly start to unbutton his shirt, tracing a path from fine fabric to the rough, fibrous tissue of his burned skin. “You look even more handsome in my eyes now,Nanami... ripped at every edge but still holding your original charm, like the finest masterpiece” you finally speak, voice thick with emotion “you’re strong, you can heal. Let me help you, please... let me…” The weight of your invitation hangs in the air, a siren's call that stirs something deep within him. He hesitantly captures your wandering hand, “Are you sure?” he asks, his forehead resting against yours, a silent confession of both uncertainty and deep care. 

In answer, you push his shirt off his shoulders, your hands gliding over the contours of his biceps, igniting a wildfire in his chest long thought extinguished. You offer him compassion and heartfelt affection, and in that moment, he feels worthy of love again. “I am sure, Nanami… give me all of you without restraints tonight…show me you’re willing to start anew” 

“Fuck,” he gasps, his hands gripping your waist, spinning you around to face the mirror. “See how stunning you look? You are too much for me now,do you understand it?” He desperately spits out through gritted teeth “but if you choose to give yourself to me tonight, know that there will be no turning back. I won’t accept being left alone tomorrow...” His breath tickles your neck as he nibbles at your soft skin, pulling back to meet your gaze with a gravity that sends shivers down your spine. “What do you say? Do you accept my condition?” 

“Yes,” you simply breathe out, eyes locked on the reflection before you, feeling small yet cherished in his powerful embrace. “I guess I am the luckiest of  men, then…” His warm breath cascades over the delicate flesh behind your ear, a relieved smile curling against your skin as you tremble between his arms. 

“I could hold you like this forever…” he whispers, tracing the line of your spine with his index finger. His hands find the thin straps of your dress, gently coaxing them down your shoulders. The silky fabric slips away, pooling at your feet, revealing you in all your glory. “You are a masterpiece here, the most exquisite work of art I have ever seen.”

His gaze drifts to the mirror, breathless as he drinks in the sight of your curves, fingers exploring the valley between your breasts, brushing against your hardened nipples with a soft touch that ignites a deep groan from his throat. “Look at you; I’m going to worship every inch of your delicious body tonight, just like a painter brushing the pure canvas in front of him, I will paint your body with pleasure and reverence” With a confident caress, his hand glides down, cupping your sex, igniting a spark of longing that makes your breath hitch. 

“Nanami,” your voice is a prayer, each syllable infused with need as he parts your folds, cool air colliding with your now exposed clit. His experienced fingers start to explore your womanhood and a shiver dances along your spine “So soft,so wet for me already… keep those beautiful eyes open for me,I want you to watch as we create a work of art of pleasure tonight.” his other hand cups your chin, preventing you from looking away from your entwined image.

He moves with purpose, fingers drawing delicate circles on your sensitive nub, escalating your breaths into gasps. “You know, I’ve always believed that sex is a form of art—the highest, perhaps. The sensations it creates, the way bodies merge in a symphony of unbridled passion…” His rhythm quickens, pressure mounting until you scream his name, your body arching as waves of pleasure crash over you. 

“Let it happen, just like that, give in to it, feel the way your body yearns for mine” he encourages you, guiding you throughout your climax with his confident ministrations. “Look at you now,” he cups your jaw, tilting your head to see the beauty of your flushed cheeks and wild hair. “You are alive… the essence of beauty.” His kisses scatter across your skin, igniting every nerve, his hardness pressing against your plush curves, a testament to his hunger. 

His veiny hands unfasten his belt, pulling down his elegant pants to reveal himself to you: a glorious display of manhood, standing proud and ready in the mirror facing you. The base is girthy, the long shaft crossed by a single bluish vein up to the swollen tip, already for glistening with precum “look what your beauty does to me” his hips jacks forward instinctively as he notices the hunger in your eyes “Ready?” he asks once more, searching your gaze for any hint of doubt before entering you slowly from behind, his eyes locked on yours in the reflective surface, watching as pleasure and pain intertwine on your face. 

He’s barely halfway in but you already feel him everywhere, a melding of flesh and desire driving you mad as he fills you completely. A strangled groan escapes him. “fuck, you're too tight… "His eyes flutter shut as he revels in the sensation of your snug channel stretching apart for him, sweaty pearls coaxes his forehead, brows furrowed in concentration “you were made for me.” He buries his face in your hair, inhaling your intoxicating scent as he stills for a moment, savoring the connection of your entwined bodies. 

When his hips begin to move, there is no gentleness—only a primal need. He slams against you, each thrust sending you gasping against the mirror, fingers clutching the golden frame for support. Your body turned into a canvas painted with pleasure: head tilted back, throat exposed, breasts heaving with each  fervent thrust, trembling legs on the brink of surrender.  The smacking sound of flesh meeting flesh reverberates, a wild melody echoing in the room as you surrender to the rhythm of ecstasy, bodies swaying in perfect synchronicity. 

Together, you reach the precipice of bliss. The mirror captures the art of your union, an abstract painting of two entwined souls—calling out each other’s names, your bodies slick and sticky, pressed together in a tender embrace. In that moment, you know that this is more than just a union of bodies; it is a celebration of art, love, and the unyielding spirit of desire.

 Nanami’s eyes roll back as he feels you envelop him in a fierce grip, but he forces his gaze open, eager to witness the masterpiece unfolding before him. “I'm almost there…” He announces, grunting in your ear as he surrenders to your magic. Warm spurts of his very essence paint your walls white, making you his in the most primal of ways. He groans in pride and delight when the glass reflects the lewd sight of his overflowing seed dripping down your leg. Turning to face him, a loving smile dances upon both of your lips, the calm after a storm. “That was incredible, my diamond… thank you for sharing this masterpiece with me,” he murmurs, placing gentle kisses upon your closed eyelids, the warmth of his damp hair brushing against your forehead. “You’ve shown me that with you, I can finally find my way back to beauty.” He nuzzles your noses together, laughter bubbling forth as he regards you with a playful glint in his eye. “But I fear I need more from you tonight… are you ready for another round?”

You nod, a spark reigniting within you, a shared yearning to delve deeper into the connection that has blossomed between you in the stillness of the night. Without warning, he lifts you off the ground, effortlessly cradling you in his arms, bridal-style, and carries you toward his round bed, laying you down upon the luxurious velvet sheets. The sensation takes your breath away, and you gaze up at him, wide-eyed with wonder.

He kneels at your feet, crawling onto the bed, leaving a trail of kisses along your calves, thighs, and stomach, until he reaches your lips. For a moment, he pauses, studying your moonlit features, before pushing himself into your inviting warmth once more. This time, there is no urgency; instead, he makes love to you with a tenderness that transcends flesh, his thrusts slow and deep, punctuated by soft kisses and feather-light caresses. You gaze upward at the mirror hanging from the ceiling, capturing your supine figure beneath his muscled torso, tensing with every intimate movement.

In that sacred moment of Epiphany, the truth unfurls before you: together, you and Nanami create a beauty that has always eluded you both, a beauty that defies the boundaries of time and space, a masterpiece beyond convention. You were each other’s missing piece. Each creak of the bed beneath you resonates with magic, a spell binding you to this moment of bliss and rebirth, witnessed by every mirror surrounding you.

“We are art,” you lean in and whisper into his ear, your voice filled with newfound conviction, as the night wraps around you like a cloak, and the shadows dance in celebration of your fateful union.

Thanks for reading this far!🙏

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[shatcey]

Gilbert on Yves seq

In a couple of words… this bastard (lovingly) appears no more than 5 times. But… he stole all the attention. Maybe it's just me.

I've ONLY finished reading the dramatic ending, so maybe my thoughts are incomplete. But I finally figure him out… I think...

A few screenshots with my thoughts below the cut. Gilbert decided to participate. I can't control them at all.

With Belle

He doesn't really hide his interest. And Belle is very afraid of him. Nothing new, she's afraid of him on every route. Have no idea why. He's such a sweet bunny-boy.

You know, I'm really worried about your lack of self-preservation… Wanna cookie? (hold a cookie in my open palm) ...(he took a cookie) Do you really think that's enough? (deep exhale) You're just exploiting my affection for you…

But at the beginning of the dramatic ending, they have a nice conversation in the hall. And Belle shows that she was chosen to be Belle NOT for her pretty eyes.

He had once again demonstrated his ability to read her mind. Obviously, because she still hadn't learned how to keep a poker face.

And she was scared again… a rabbit indeed.

With Yves

I have already written about his strange hatred for Yves. It doesn't make any sense. Gilbert is a rational person and he has no rational reason to hate Yves. But he continues to mock him.

I think this part can give us some information.

The last line reminds me of his interactions with Belle on his route. And suddenly I realised… I tried to analyze his words from the point of view of a person who has very general views on the meaning of words. But this is Gilbert. He put completely distorted meanings into the words "hate" and "love". How could I forget about it???

So now I think he doesn't hate Yves. He is worried about him. He grew up in a country where you'd be killed if you showed shred of mercy, so he's worried that something like this might happen to Yves. He put him to the trial (as he told Belle, "unintentionally", but with a genius you never know for sure) to either teach him a lesson, get him to change his naive way of thinking, or… to make him stronger.

In chapter 14, they have a nice chat in the hall

Bunny, this is a cold country, so it's pretty cold in the halls too, so you shouldn't spend so much time there… Why do you keep calling me bunny? Because you're bunny. A black bunny with fluffy hair. I wanna ruffle them so badly… Aren't you afraid of me? Why should I? I have cookies… ... (took the cookie) This bribe will not work indefinitely. Well… Then I'll bake a cake.

So, they had a chat

He doesn't confirm or deny this. But if you read his route, you will realize that he describes himself quite accurately. And the funny thing is that he says it in the most mocking way, so Yves definitely won't be able to believe it's true.

The last two lines again give the impression that he is worried… about Yves and Belle. He warned him to be more cautious and less trusting… So that he doesn't lose what he holds dear. Someone might take this as a threat, I see it as advice. Advice from a man who once went through this and is really worried that his beloved or her fiance will go through the same thing.

This is just my personal impression. This may or may not be true. You have every right to disagree with me.

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🔝 𝕊𝕋𝔸ℝ𝕋 ℙ𝔸𝔾𝔼 🔝

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[bibibbon]

Hello. I have notice something in MHA for the series having idea about reverting the tropes of classic hero comics trope it actually have very less morally ambiguous characters who don't side with hero and villain faction of the MHA world and even less having impact on the story narration and its core theme and let alone characters who the story don't paint as character who infact a good points but are not too violent or even self sacrificing. I genuinely wish there were more morally ambiguous characters who either are not hero or villain. For example, Lady Nagant is one of my favourite characters for the same reason. A pro hero who was got disillusioned due to the HPSC and saw the truth of the society and kill the HSPC president. More characters like her who don't fit in any of the MHA worlds morals alignment or how society fit people or hell even characters who actively reject the title of hero and villain and the very definition of it, the MHA society put in and the traditional morality. There's very few moments where fluidity in morality for characters dynamic is allow but the narrative don't give it more appropriate focus. Morally ambiguous characters whose personality, ideology and how they act don't fit in any way possible in the box of hero and villain definition the story put in. Morally ambiguous characters who don't need saving or need to save others narratives wise but make both Izuku and Tomura questions their own goal and why they are taking action. Scenes of lady nagant where she was talking about hero society real truth with Izuku was my favourite from my series. And I actually wish the story has more moments like these with Tomura where someone probe him why destruction is his ideology. Because Destruction is equal to Creation. Where Tomura draw line in destroying every thing? Is it because he personally want it or AFO influence?

What I want to say I actually wish there was more characters whose morals alignment were in the line of neutrality and impact the narration. Because these kind of characters truly make what meant to be a hero and saving someone question even brightly. Make Izuku character as hero more unique, make Tomura 'Villains need their own Hero' more profound and impacting.

But it is just my own opinion and preferences.

Oh I absolutely agree with this!!

For a series that actively tries to show itself subverting the classical superhero trope, it doesn't particularly do it well in the sense of introducing nuance and fulditiy into character morality and fully showing a proper grey space.

MHA does well in presenting morally grey or morally ambiguous situations, but it struggles in presenting morally ambiguous characters that are relevant to the plot.

I say a proper grey space because while the manga claims that vigilantes are morally grey we honestly don't see enough of them in the main manga and the vigilantes manga frames them in a way where there is a clear divide of good and bad vigilante so it just makes the whole point of vigilantes being grey null.

The main cast is all divided into either heroes or villains, with neither one really trying to reject that role and move past it. Ultimately, the heroes within the series try and develop a deeper understanding of heroics, some acknowledging that villains and heroes are the same or that villains also need saving. However, we don't get heroes truly acknowledging the corruption of the society they live in to a full extent. We get some crumbs here and there, for example, ochako realising how bad the quirk counselling system is, Iida realising that to be a true hero, he can not kill a villain because of personal issues and mina realising that both heroes and villains are humans on different sides with the same emotions.

The worldbulding of mha and its flaws aren't at all acknowledged, especially the hpsc side of things. This is why lady nagant stands our so much because she is one of the only character that sees and directly calls out the hpsc and we are shown by her entire character just how damaging and cruel the hpsc and how they harm everyone in the process whether that be heroes, villains and citizens alike by tucking them into a false sense of safety and comfort and indirectly upholding a man who will so soon crumble (all might).

I have already talked about Lady nagant, and it also seems like you acknowledged her character, but truly aside from Lady nagant, there isn't a relevant character who shows morally ambiguity. You can argue that yes, Nedzu is a character who is morally ambiguous, but is he relevant?

The criticisms you hold for izuku and shigaraki's characters are so incredibly valid and are previous criticisms I have mentioned before. How and when will shigaraki stop in this path of destruction? What can be made from nothing?

The same applies to izuku, who holds up the same very system that hurts him and seems to try and climb the system to prove himself to the people while ultimately destroying himself for the hope of better. Izuku never ends up breaking the cycle. Actually, he and mirio (who is now the number one hero) end up fueling the cycle and upholding it ironically enough it looks like history is bound to repeat itself here.

Mha was supposed to subvert the typical superhero narrative that afo and ofa presented and the two main characters who were supposed to be the obvious leaders of this were izuku and shigaraki.

Due to this, its a whole lot more worse when you realise that all of this and the parallels shigaraki and izuku have fall apart due to horikoshi choosing to do what he did in chapter 419 revealing that shigaraki tomura was a puppet all along and that AFO was somehow the big mastermind. This just makes the world feel small and removes all the worldbulding that shigarakis backstory and actions have added to the world of MHA. Pinning the faults all on one man when the world is so much more complex and nuanced than that ultimately removes so much from the story that's supposed to tackle societal issues.