#it was a lot more different that i anticipated

[ginxyy]

Catching Flights & Feelings

A man who travels a lot falls in love with a flight attendant he always sees.

Every time the airplane doors slid shut and the familiar hum of the engines filled the cabin, a flutter of excitement ignited within you. There, among the rows of seats and the soft murmur of passengers settling in, you found your rhythm. You had mastered the art of the skies, weaving through clouds with an elegance that could only be embraced by those who belonged to this world. But this time was different, and you felt it in every fiber of your being.

As you prepared for the safety demonstration, a familiar figure settled into his seat. Seungcheol, the charming man from Seventeen, had taken a spot in your section yet again. You had seen him countless times on your flights, flashing his twinkling smile and reverberating with an unmistakable aura that made him a beacon of warmth in a bustling, often chaotic environment. His fame was undeniable—his name echoed in the whispers of your colleagues and the excited chatter of fans during layovers but to you, he was just Seungcheol.

You grinned, feeling a spark of mischief dance behind your eyes. “Ready for takeoff, Mr. Celebrity?” you teased, your playful tone slicing through the air like a gentle breeze. You leaned in, letting a hint of flirtation lace your words, and watched as his cheeks flushed a shade of crimson that would put roses to shame.

“Only if you’re serving the drinks today,” he responded, winking at you with that disarming charm. His eyes held a twinkle that made your heart thump louder than the engines’ roar.

You resumed your duties, but not before braving a last glance at him. In that fleeting moment, you imagined the unexplored depths beneath his public persona and what it would be like to peel back the layers, uncovering the man hidden behind the celebrated façade. Unbeknownst to you, he was just as enamored with you as you were with him.

The days turned into weeks, and each flight became a cherished ritual. You found yourself counting down the hours until you could see him again. The more you spoke, the more a comfortable rhythm developed between you a playful banter that ignited during each in-flight encounter. You joked about turbulence, made puns about jet lag, and learned how to flirt through simple glances. If someone had told you that you could fall so hard over high altitudes and the scent of recycled air, you would have laughed. But here you were, caught in the spell of this endearing connection.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day filled with delays and turbulence, you were surprised to see Seungcheol waiting at the gate, a bright smile illuminating his face. He was flanked by a small group of fans, yet his eyes locked on yours with an intensity that made the world around you blur.

“Want to grab drinks after the flight?” he asked innocently, as if it were the most natural of propositions.

“Are we really going to discuss drinks? It’s the third time this week you’ve asked me out on a flight my heart can only take so much of the turbulence,” you teased, unable to suppress the way your smile widened.

He chuckled, the sound bubbling up like champagne. “So you admit you like it. I’m getting somewhere, then. What’ll it be? A flight to nowhere? I promise I’m an excellent co-pilot.”

“Just as long as I’m in the captain’s seat,” you flirted back, feeling the thrill of anticipation tingle through your stomach.

Following that, a spontaneous series of adventures unfolded between you both, hidden from the prying eyes of the world. Late-night conversations in airport lounges turned into coffee breaks in the bustling streets of Tokyo, and you found joy in navigating cities while flirting like teenagers. Seungcheol relished the simple pleasures, basking in the joy of being with someone who viewed him through a lens unclouded by fame.

“Do you know what I like most about you?” he asked one afternoon as the spring breeze whispered through the cherry blossoms around you.

“What’s that?” you replied, leaning in, curious and utterly engaged. His handsome features softened, and the earnestness written on his face made your heart skip.

“You treat me like a person, not just some idol. You’re refreshing like a breath of fresh air after a long flight.” His gaze held yours, desire and sincerity entwined. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

Growing bold, you decided to take a leap of faith. “Maybe you should stop flying around so much and spend more time on the ground with me. I can introduce you to all the best coffee spots,” you suggested, a mischievous glint in your eye.

Seungcheol smirked, the corners of his mouth curling up with delight. “And I can promise to be your co-pilot on all your adventures. What do you say?”

You both spent countless afternoons rearranging schedules, mastering detours, and making memories amongst the thrumming heart of life. The world was a blur of new places and experiences, but what truly grounded you was the thrill of being together.

As weeks turned into months, the scenery shifted around you both, more vibrant and tantalizing than you’d ever envisioned. Cozy dinners after long flights, sneaking kisses behind the airport terminal… It was all a concoction of magic and spontaneity, and you thrived on it. In that whirlwind of romance, Seungcheol somehow managed to nestle himself firmly in your heart, becoming more than a fleeting passenger on your journeys.

One fateful evening, while stared into the pulsating city lights from your hotel balcony, you realized that your whirlwind romance fuelled by chance encounters and flirtatious exchanges had grounded itself into something deeper, more meaningful.

Leaning against the railing and looking out at the horizon, you felt him step up behind you, a presence that made the night warmer. “Are you going to share a drink with your co-pilot or just stare into the distance and dream?”

Smiling to yourself, your heart hummed the answer. “Only if it’s a romantic dinner under the stars.”

Underneath the vast expanse, wrapped in each other’s warmth, you both discovered that romance could blossom not just in the clouds but in every heartbeat you shared on Earth.

[simplygojo]

Haunted Party - Nanami Kento

Author's Note: Hey gang, I have FINALLY finished all my kinktober fics (do not expect any smut from me anymore LMAO) and have finished it off with an entry for @fizee's Fic-Or-Treat event!!! I HOPE ONE OF YOU LIKE THIS I GOT HORRID WRITERS BLOCK <3

Fic-Or-Treat

Spooky Szn Masterlist

Pairing: Nanami Kento x f!reader

Word Count: 3.6K

Kinktober Taglist: @nanamisrighthand @simplyyyuji; @megumisdivinedogs; @lovleyredheadfairy

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, MDNI, fingering, semi-public sex, haunted encounters.

The insurance company you worked for had a reputation for hosting some of the most extravagant Halloween parties. 

Every year, they outdid themselves, turning lavish venues into eerie, haunted wonderlands filled with masked guests, dark costumes, and enough mystery to last until the next morning. This year was no different. 

The theme was a "Haunted Royal Court," and the moment you arrived at the grand mansion, you could feel the weight of the night—luxurious yet unsettling, the perfect setting for an evening that would inevitably end in indulgence.

The chandeliers in the dimly lit entrance hall flickered ominously as you stepped inside, your heels clicking softly on the marble floor. 

Cobwebbed tapestries lined the walls, the candlelight casting ghostly shadows over the guests mingling in their regal, haunted costumes. 

A subtle sense of unease lingered in the air, but you knew that wasn’t just because of the atmosphere. It was because of him.

Kento Nanami.

Last Halloween had been the first–and last–time something had happened between you two. 

The party that year had been just as extravagant, and after hours of drinks and stolen glances, the tension had exploded in a way you hadn’t expected. 

By the end of the night, you’d found yourself in the parking lot, pressed up against his sleek black car, Nanami’s hands gripping your hips while his lips claimed yours in a moment of raw desire. 

His usually composed demeanour had crumbled as the two of you fucked right there, under the cover of darkness, driven by alcohol and an unspoken need that neither of you had ever acknowledged. 

But after that night, things had gone back to normal. 

You didn’t talk about it. Neither of you had brought up the rushed, heated encounter that left your skin tingling for days. In fact…you practically never saw him in the office after that.

Maybe you both had reasons to pretend it didn’t happen, but the memory of his hands on you, his voice strained with lust, had never left your mind.

And now, at this year’s Halloween party, the tension between you was back—stronger than ever.

You adjusted the delicate lace sleeves of your gown, the dark fabric clinging to your curves in a way that felt both seductive and spectral. 

The plunging neckline and sheer accents added a haunting allure, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit dangerous tonight. 

A part of you wanted to see if Nanami would react the same way as last time, if the restraint that held him together would snap again.

As you stepped fully into the grand ballroom, you felt the weight of gazes tracing over you, lingering with curious admiration. 

But one gaze felt different—intense, familiar, like a charged current that sparked every nerve ending to life. 

You didn’t need to look to know it was him. 

Even without meeting his eyes, you could feel Nanami’s attention on you, piercing through the other looks, as if he alone saw through the elaborate dress, the poised demeanour, right to the anticipation simmering beneath.

Adjusting the delicate lace sleeves of your gown, you let your fingers trail along the fabric, subtly drawing attention to the plunging neckline and the way the dark fabric moulded to your curves. 

The gown was intricate yet daring, the sheer lace accents and shadowy hue creating an otherworldly allure that left you feeling more alive than you had in weeks. 

You couldn’t help the shiver of satisfaction as you caught the faintest glimpse of Nanami’s gaze darkening from across the room. 

The way his jaw clenched, the subtle tightening of his grip around the glass in his hand—it was the only confirmation you needed.

You moved with graceful ease, mingling through the crowd, chatting with a few coworkers who complimented your costume or shared a laugh over the elaborate decorations. 

But even as you kept the conversation light and easy, your senses were hyper-focused on him, tracking his every move through the room, waiting to see if he would approach. 

You could’ve sworn that you saw a few of your female coworkers throw subtle glances in Nanami’s direction—though whether out of respect for his commanding presence or curiosity about the mysterious aura he carried, you weren’t sure.

Eventually, you found yourself near his group, standing with a small cluster of colleagues by the dimly lit bar where he was seated. 

The moment stretched taut as you casually joined their conversation, exchanging pleasantries and soft laughter with the others. 

Your body hummed with awareness, every fibre of you attuned to his presence. Yet neither of you acknowledged the other. 

The deliberate silence was its own kind of foreplay, unspoken and electric, drawing out the tension until it felt almost unbearable.

Every now and then, as you sipped your drink or listened to a story from a coworker, you’d feel his gaze drift in your direction, lingering just a second too long. 

You swore you could feel his eyes trailing over the slope of your neck, the bare skin exposed by the daring cut of your gown, down to the curve of your waist.

And each time, your pulse quickened, your heartbeat echoing loud enough that you were sure someone nearby might hear.

The memory of that night in the dark, pressed against his car, his hands possessive on your body, his breath hot and ragged as he murmured your name—it was all there, simmering beneath the surface.

And as you laughed at a joke someone told, you sensed him shifting closer, the warmth of his presence wrapping around you like a magnetic pull. 

You dared a sideways glance, catching a glimpse of the way his eyes roamed over you, his expression unreadable but filled with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

Without a word, Nanami’s hand brushed against yours—a feather-light touch, barely noticeable to anyone else, but enough to send sparks up your arm. 

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you forgot the others around you, lost in the silent promise that lingered in his gaze.

He stood beside you now, stoic in his ghostly nobleman’s attire, the sharp lines of his suit tailored perfectly to his broad frame. 

His pale makeup gave him a haunting, refined edge, and despite the eerie theme of the evening, Nanami still exuded his usual calm intensity. 

You hadn’t spoken much since you arrived, but his presence was enough to stir the familiar tension. You could feel his gaze on you occasionally, lingering, just as it had last year.

It was almost as if you were playing a game—seeing who would break first.

By the time you needed some air and a break from the meaningless small talk, your heart was already pounding with anticipation. 

You excused yourself from the mingling crowd, stepping toward the grand staircase that led to the quieter, upper levels of the mansion. 

The dim lighting cast long shadows over the bannisters, and the flickering candles added an almost supernatural glow to the space.

As you ascended the steps, you heard the familiar, steady sound of footsteps behind you. 

You didn’t need to turn to know it was him.

Nanami’s presence filled the stairwell as he caught up, his larger frame moving with quiet determination. 

He didn’t say anything at first, but you could feel the tension building with each passing second.

"You left without saying anything," he finally spoke, his deep voice cutting through the stillness. 

It wasn’t accusatory, but there was something heavier beneath the words, something that made your pulse quicken.

You stopped on the landing, leaning against the banister with a teasing smile. "Didn’t think you’d notice."

As his steady footsteps echoed closer, your pulse quickened, and you couldn’t resist a sly smile. 

You tilted your head, watching the flicker of something guarded—yet unmistakably intrigued—in his gaze. 

Nanami stopped a few steps below, just close enough that you could see the subtle shifts in his expression, the guarded way he held himself in check. 

His presence filled the narrow stairwell, quiet but commanding, and though he didn’t say anything right away, you felt his gaze take in every detail—the curve of your lips, the way the dark lace of your dress clung to your body.

His mouth quirked as his eyes snapped back up to yours, almost imperceptibly. "I notice plenty."

The words were simple, but the way his gaze swept over you made them feel like a confession. 

He took another step forward, and the dim lighting cast shadows that accentuated his strong jawline, his broad shoulders filling the space with an effortless elegance. 

His suit jacket cut perfectly to fit him, every inch of his appearance meticulously sharp, and for a moment, you almost lost your train of thought watching him approach.

He took another step, and then another, each movement careful, deliberate, like he was savouring every second of closing the space between you.

His eyes never left yours, and you could see the way he drank in every detail—how you stood just above him, the way your gown framed your silhouette against the stairwell’s low light. 

It was almost like he wanted to memorize the sight of you, his stare unwavering, intent.

"You’re making it pretty damn hard not to notice, y/n." He said, his tone low, soft but with an edge that sent a thrill down your spine. 

There was something dangerous in the way he looked at you now, the restraint in his gaze barely holding.

Your lips curved in a teasing smile as he drew closer, the heat in his gaze kindling your own excitement. 

"Funny, I didn’t think you were paying attention."

Nanami’s lips parted, just the slightest bit, and his eyes narrowed, his expression still calm but undeniably intrigued. 

"Is that what you want to believe?" He tilted his head, his gaze sweeping over your form one more time before returning to your eyes.

Every step he took up those marble steps sent a wave of tension curling through you, the anticipation building to an unbearable peak. 

And then he was only a step away, his gaze still locked with yours, his figure looming with a quiet authority that made the stairwell feel impossibly small.

A soft chuckle slipped past your lips, and you couldn’t help but lean in just a bit, closing the small space between you. 

"You know," you said, your tone laced with challenge, "I almost thought you were avoiding me tonight."

Nanami’s gaze held yours as he finally reached you on the landing, and the corners of his mouth turned up in the slightest of smirks. 

"Avoiding you would be the sensible thing to do," he murmured, the faintest trace of dry humour slipping into his voice. 

"But you’re not very good at doing the sensible thing, are you?"

He let out a soft sigh, but his eyes betrayed him, lingering on the curve of your neck, the lace edging that skimmed over your collarbone before returning to your eyes. 

"With you," he replied, the restraint in his voice palpable, "it’s difficult."

The confession, quiet yet so unmistakably Nanami, made your heart beat faster. 

You couldn’t help but lean closer, the anticipation thrumming between you both like a live wire. 

"I don’t mind making things difficult," you whispered, your voice just for him.

His fingers brushed along your waist, steady yet unmistakably possessive, as he looked at you with that same intense gaze he wore in the field��sharp, unyielding, and thoroughly focused. 

"I know you don’t." 

His words were soft, almost indulgent, but his hand tightened ever so slightly, as if warning himself not to give in.

You let your fingers lightly graze the lapel of his jacket, watching as his focus flickered to the touch, his own calm facade beginning to show cracks.

For a moment, the air felt thick, every shared glance and whispered word drawing you further into his orbit. 

The faint lights of the stairwell cast a warm glow, leaving the world outside forgotten, as if you two were the only ones here.

Nanami's hand slid from your waist to the small of your back, his fingers firm and confident as he pulled you flush against him. 

His gaze held yours with a powerful intensity, and the way he looked at you now was entirely unguarded—no walls, no restraint. 

The flickering tension in his eyes had morphed into something resolute, an unspoken promise of what was about to unfold.

Without a word, his hand found the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair with a possessive strength that made your breath hitch. He leaned down, his mouth inches from yours, and you could feel the heat radiating from him, the air thick with the silent demand. 

His lips brushed your ear, his voice low and commanding.

"You’ve wanted this, haven’t you?" His words weren’t a question but a statement, one that sent a thrill through you as his grip tightened ever so slightly.

Before you could answer, his mouth met yours in a kiss that was anything but gentle. His lips moved with a hunger you hadn’t seen before, a raw, undeniable desire that left you breathless. 

His other hand slid up your waist, his touch heavy and possessive, fingers digging into your hip as he drew you closer. 

Your breaths became shallow, and you kissed him back desperately, going up on your tippy toes just to get a mere few centimetres closer.

When he broke the kiss, his gaze was darker, the restraint that usually tempered him nowhere to be seen. 

His thumb traced the line of your jaw, his grip firm as he tilted your head to look up at him, his own eyes narrowed in focus.

His voice was a hushed growl, each word laced with an intensity that made your pulse race. 

"God, you are the most beautiful living thing I have ever laid my eyes on," he murmured, his thumb brushing over your cheek, rough and deliberate. 

There was a fierce possession in his gaze, something raw and electric that left you feeling completely at his mercy.

Without another word, his hand slipped beneath the fabric at your waist, fingers splaying across your hip as he lifted you effortlessly against the wall. 

Your legs instinctively wrapped around him, and he pressed against you, his touch steady yet undeniably commanding, his body anchoring yours in place. 

His lips found your neck again, marking a trail along your skin as his grip tightened, each kiss firm–posessive.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him on.

His hand slid higher along your thigh, fingers gripping firmly, as if he were staking his claim on every inch of you. 

The last shred of restraint slipped from him as his hand found its way under your dress, and he hooked his fingers around the fabric, shifting it aside gently only to insert his fingers in you with such dominance. 

As soon as you felt his fingers stretch you out, you let out a loud gasp into the echoing hallway.

His other hand cupped the back of your neck, drawing your mouth to his in another searing kiss, one that left you breathless and desperate for more.

You could feel the controlled power in every movement he made, every flex of his fingers, his touch radiating an intensity that made you feel alive, like you were the center of his world in that moment.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He muttered, his voice a quiet, fervent rasp as his fingers attempted to memorize the feel of your warmth, his restraint slipping more with every word, every touch. 

With a low growl, he withdrew his fingers, leaving you feeling momentarily empty until he undid his belt, his movements steady yet purposeful, his gaze dark with intent. 

The sound of the buckle hitting the floor sent a thrill down your spine, and as he freed himself, the anticipation pooled hot and heavy in your core, building until it was almost unbearable.

His hand slipped up to the back of your neck, threading through your hair before giving a firm tug, tilting your head up so you had to look him in the eyes.

"You want this?" He muttered, his voice a rough, intense whisper that sent a shiver through you.

"Yes," you breathed, your voice barely a whisper, laced with all the want and need that had been building up between you two for so long.

And then, with a slow, deep thrust, he entered you, filling you completely. 

The sensation was electric, sparking along every nerve as he began to move, each thrust measured but intense, the pressure building with a relentless rhythm that had you clinging to him, gasping his name.

The feeling of him inside you was overwhelming, each stroke reaching deeper, grounding you even as it felt like you were unravelling. 

Your body become hypersensitive, alive to every rough brush of his fingers, every scrape of fabric against your hot skin. 

The sensation built up in waves, crashing and receding, leaving you on edge, breathless, yet craving even more. 

Each time he pulled at your hair, a sharp spark ignited deep in your core, a flare of pleasure that spread outward, filling you up until it was all you could feel. You arched into him, mouth parting as a moan escaped you, your body yielding to every movement, every rough, deliberate stroke.

His name slipped from your lips like a prayer, your hands tangling in his hair, clinging to him as if he were the only thing keeping you steady. 

Each sound you made seemed to spur him on—his movements gaining intensity, each thrust deliberate, meant to leave you aching in the best way.

He tightened his hold on your hair, tilting your head back to expose the curve of your neck, and his mouth found the sensitive skin there, adding another layer of sensation that left you trembling beneath him. 

The roughness, the unrestrained way he claimed you, made every nerve feel alive, sparking with pleasure until it was almost too much.

"Look at you," he rasped, his voice dark, almost reverent, as his gaze raked over you. "So beautiful…"

Every word, every thrust, pulled you closer to the edge, and as he continued, the pleasure reached a fever pitch, winding tighter until there was nothing but him, the feeling of his body against yours, the raw intensity of his movements. 

And as he drove into you one last time, the release hit, crashing over you like a wave, leaving you breathless, clinging to him as the pleasure pulsed through you in endless, dizzying waves…

—

The next morning, you sat at your desk, barely focused on your work. 

Memories of the night before were still fresh, each one laced with the lingering intensity of every look, every touch, every whispered word. 

You couldn’t shake it—not that you wanted to.

Lost in thought, you glanced across the room at your coworker, Shoko, sitting a few desks over. Gathering yourself, you leaned in her direction, trying to sound casual as you asked, “Hey, Shoko. What do you think about Nanami?”

Shoko looked up, brows furrowed in confusion. “Nanami Kento?” she repeated, a curious edge in her voice. “The company’s old owner?”

You blinked, the words not fully registering at first. “Yeah, I mean… the guy from last night,” you said, a little thrown. “Wait—old owner? How old is he?”

Shoko’s confusion only deepened. 

She tilted her head, clearly wondering if you were joking. 

“What do you mean?” she said slowly, almost cautiously. “Nanami… he’s been dead for, like, twenty years.”

Your stomach dropped, a chill washing over you. 

“Dead?” You managed, your voice barely a whisper.

“Yeah,” Erin continued, oblivious to the shock freezing you in place. 

“Apparently, he was murdered. People say his spirit haunts the office building.” She paused, her voice dipping into a conspiratorial whisper. 

“And that old mansion where they host the Halloween party every year? He used to live there.”

Your breath caught as the room around you seemed to spin, last night’s encounters replaying in your mind with an entirely new—and chilling—clarity.

You tried to keep your expression steady, but your mind was racing. 

Shoko had already turned back to her work, unaware of the spiral she’d just set off inside your head. 

You took a steadying breath, trying to make sense of what she’d just said.

Did I just… fuck a ghost?

The absurdity of it clashed with the vivid, undeniable reality of what you’d felt last night—the warmth of his hands, the low rasp of his voice, the possessive way he’d held you. 

Everything about Nanami had felt so real, so solid. 

You could still feel the ghost of his fingers on your skin, the way your heart had raced when he whispered against your ear.

Your pulse quickened again, and you stole a glance around the room as if everyone might somehow know, but no one was watching you. 

The memories replayed in your mind, each one taking on a new edge as you recalled his almost otherworldly intensity, the quiet way he’d moved, how he seemed to always appear exactly when you wanted him to… or perhaps, when he wanted to be seen.

You swallowed, trying to shake the thoughts out of your head, but Erin’s words echoed persistently. ‘Murdered twenty years ago. His spirit haunts the office building…’

And then, a detail you’d brushed off last night resurfaced. 

He’d told you that ‘you are the most beautiful living thing he had ever laid his eyes on,’...that phrase had seemed flirtatious then, but now, it felt loaded with an eerie truth.

ty for hosting @fizee ur the best sorry I was so delayed LMAO

[race-week]

To be honest, with McLaren I very much get the impression that they weren’t expecting to be as competitive as they are this year.

Towards the end of last season, and preseason this year there was a lot of talk with them about 2025 and 2026, especially once their new wind tunnel was up and running as they would be the first cars designed wholly in the new tunnel.

I think there was a somewhat bizarre series of events and their car this year was stronger than they expected, or their competitors were weaker than anticipated, and somehow they stumbled their way into a championship fight that they didn’t foresee initially being a part of. (Post Miami)

This then became more apparent as the season progressed as Red Bull seemingly got weaker and then suddenly there was talk of two championships on the line. (Around the time of the summer break)

I’m not saying that McLaren didn’t expect to be competitive at all this year, I think they probably expected that they would be towards the front but not necessarily where they ended up. (I think they were probably aiming for a close P3/P4)

Now, they haven’t been a properly competitive, Championship contender (for either championship) in well over a decade, and in that decade the team personnel and management are pretty much completely different, so it’s not really much of a surprise that they have made the stumbles that they have done, and why they still act like a midfield team, because the majority of the personnel there are used to the ‘midfield mentality’.

They kind of tripped into a championship fight (or two) that they weren’t necessarily operationally ready for, and truth be told I think this would be the case for most, if not all midfield teams, if they suddenly (in relative terms) reached that level of competition.

It’s far more common for a front runner to become a midfielder, than the opposite to happen, especially within a season or two.

[ennn]

Jac Schaeffer on Agathario, Rio as Nicky's dad, Rio' scar speech

Some highlights from the Jeff Goldsmith Podcast.

Jeff: That brings us obviously speaking of relationships to Agatha and Rio, you have a very interesting foundation and I know if stuff was cut, you wouldn't be able to speak exactly on some of it, but I'm curious, was there more there? It's good to leave your audience wanting more. And people have speculated as to whether or not there was more of a flashback between them and more of their history.

Jac: There was more in the writer's room. There was never any more on the page. We sort of, it was our story instinct, I would say, that getting too far into their backstory would sort of be too much of a counterweight to the Nicky material. And so we really included what we felt was vital to this chapter. But we, we certainly talked about it at great length of how they met and what their relationship was and what it looked like in happier times and all of that.

And I didn't anticipate that the shippers would be so fervent that there would be, you know– and I–it feels foolish for not – you never know how anything is gonna land and you never know if people are gonna care.

And the amount that people care is staggering to me. And it's my hope that in the MCU there's more unpacking of the Agatha and Rio backstory.

Jeff: You were talking about the shipping group, like was there ever anything about Nicholas's father or is there any credence to the concept that it could have been born as the love child between these two?

Jac: Yes. I mean, we talked about a lot of different versions of who is the father of Nikki. And we ultimately decided that for Agatha's story, it wasn't relevant to the story we were trying to tell and we didn't really wanna get into the weeds of if it was magical or, y'know – that's again – it's sort of more rules.

We certainly considered the idea that Rio is the father. I wonder if I should ask the writers if they sort of still hold that in their hearts. It's something that I certainly thought about a lot and, and like to sort of contemplate. I enjoy that it is left to fan interpretation.

I also feel that I know how the MCU works and I don't think it serves anybody to sort of for me as the creator to emphatically tell you something that isn't on screen. Because, you know, like I said, it's my hope that these stories continue.

So, so perhaps there is a later chapter that will address this, but I, but I will say that, that when we were casting, sometimes we were like, "Does that kid look like Rio? Does that kid look like Aubrey Plaza?"

Jeff: So it's a path that, that is...

Jac: Fans and viewers, yes, are– I think they're picking up on our brainwaves for sure.

Jac: [on the toughest scenes to do] And then Rio's like little speech by the campfire was really hard.

So Giovanna Sarkees wrote a beautiful monologue that was quite long. And then it was one of those things that on the day Aubrey was doing it, and it wasn't Aubrey's fault, but it just wasn't clicking. It didn't feel right for what Aubrey had brought to the role. There's so much economy in what Aubrey does, you know, like she accomplishes so much with her physicality and her very being, that this long speech just felt wrong to me.

And I changed it on the day –which is always a risk – I changed it in the moment and the "she is my scar" I came up with, watching her do that.

[therandompagesblog]

SKZ Mate Chapter 19

Trigger Warnings: insecurity, angst, alcohol consumption

The essence in the room turned sour as the stories unfolded. They felt uncomfortable hearing their head alpha's childhood. It felt too private and Hyunjin aired it out to threaten Chan into staying, but no one said anything as they watched Chan leave the room. Chan needed to be alone to process as did they all, but it now left the newly presented alpha in charge. Jeongin wasn't in no way prepared to step up so quickly but he had to. He refused to watch the wolves fall apart so he had to create an order quickly. He had sent Minho and Felix to the kitchen to cook them a light dinner while Changbin was sent to fix Felix's nest and if his nest wasn't fixed by the end of the day they were sharing rooms until it was fixed. Jeongin kept Jisung close to the omega considering he had the strongest bond with her and hoped he could comfort her or at least make her feel better while Jeongin went round the house checking on the wolves. By the time he came back, he found the beta lying on the omega's lap with his eyes closed as she comforted him, causing Jeongin to kick the beta. He couldn't believe Jisung, he was supposed to look after her, not the other way around, but Y/N didn't mind. She was so lost in thought as she processed everything from Chan to his uncle to Hyunjin. It was a lot but one thing she kept going back to was the inevitable war with Hongjoong. "Jisung, I need a bit of paper and a pen," Y/N whispered trying to push the heavy beta off of her. "What why?"Jisung asked as he got up but she waved her hand, asking him to be quick. As soon as Y/N had a couple of sheets of paper she wrote down everything she could remember of Hongjoong's pack that may help them. She wrote down everything from their skills to possible weaknesses. She even wrote down the spiritual barrier that was guarded by werewolf spirits.

Jisung and Jeongin had no idea what she was writing but watched her in anticipation as she scribbled all over the sheets of paper circling different things. Every so often the two wolves would look up at each other with a frown before watching her. "Here. It's a list of possible weaknesses in case he comes, which he will. I don't know how much of this is a weakness but this is all I know. Hyunjin may know more but for now, we can think of options while Chan processes. I don't want Chan to act on impulse." Y/N answered as she looked at the young alpha who was a few days older than her. "Agreed. It is a thought we need to be aware of. We don't know how much Hongjoong has prepared or started but we need all the info! Thank you, Y/N." Jeongin said gratefully with a smile even though he was feeling dread seep through his veins. He was in no way prepared. "The main problem is going to be the witch coven. Hongjoong has ties with witches who use dark magic, but his whole entire domain is cast with a dark aura. What, I don't know, but the spiritual barrier is real. They're evil spirits trapped in the lining around the house is in a circle. Now we could find someone to break the circle or we wait it out until it comes down but that's twice a year." Y/N stressed. Jeongin reached out and squeezed Y/N's shoulder reassuringly before kissing her forehead. He didn't want her to worry but he will make a plan, but he needed everyone in their right frame of mind first. "Listen to me, whatever happens, we will get through this," Jeongin promised as he looked at her worried face. Y/N wanted to believe him but she was concerned, that there were too many risks. "I'm going to go and see if Chan is alright. He needs me." Y/N stated as she got up, heading towards the back door to see Chan sat on the decking look out at the woods.

Y/N could see from his position that he was deep in his thoughts. It broke her heart as she looked at him. He looked lost and she wanted to make it better. "Chan?" Y/N called out, hoping not to startle him but he hadn't heard her so she slowly crept forward before she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Chan jumped when he felt someone touch him, but relaxed when he smelt her. Her scent calming him. "Channie?!" Y/N cooed as she nuzzled him with her head before placing a kiss on his shoulder. He was so tense under her that hurt her heart. She didn't like this side of him and wanted to make it better. "Channie. Tell me what to do. How do I make it better?" Y/N whispered as she kissed his shoulder. Chan shook his head and said nothing. There was nothing she could do right now. "Baby, just give me some space for a little while alright? I promise I'll come back in." Chan answered, his voice came out slightly cold, but he wanted to sound comforting. "Hey! I love you, baby. There is no doubt about it and I know I haven't said it yet, but I planned to. I wanted to make it special but I do love you alright. I just need a few minutes, baby, okay? I never wanted you to hear that about me." "Channie, it's okay! I'll give you some space. Take all the time you need and let me know when you need me." Y/N assured as she rubbed his shoulders one last time. "Thank you, baby. I'll come in soon!" Chan squeezed her hand giving it a quick kiss as he watched her walk back into the house. Chan didn't want her to push her away but he also didn't want her to see him so vulnerable. He didn't want to dig up old memories he healed from. He didn't want her to think of him as a disgrace. He wanted to be perfect for her. He wanted to be her protector. He needed to get his shit together but he needed a moment to himself.

Eventually, Chan came back into the house to find everyone asleep but Hyunjin who was sitting in the kitchen with a glass of whisky in his hand. He heard the alpha come in so he slid the other glass over towards him not saying a word. Chan walked over and took the glass, rolling it around in his hand before knocking it back. "You make it difficult to trust you, you know," Chan stated as he poured another drink. Hyunjin scoffed at his words and he accepted them. "I know that," Hyunjin answered. "We have to come to an agreement-" "No. No, we do not. She is your soul mate. She always has been, as she is the rest of the pack. I will always be there for her, even when she doesn't want me." Hyunjin answered, his eyes fixating on the dying plant on the island table. "That is not what I meant, Hyunjin. I know you have history and I won't take that away from you. What I meant is you need to give me room to trust you, but I can't throw you out, not now." Chan stated, his words turning colder. Hyunjin tried to look into his thoughts but noticed he was quiet, purposely hiding them from him. "No you can't. You need me to fight against Hongjoong and you need me to keep her." Hyunjin chuckled as he scrunched up his nose before pointing to him with the glass held tightly in his hand. "I don't care whether you like me or trust me, what I do care about is Y/N and the wolves." "How many more secrets do you have left? Huh? You told me you were cursed but you never meant you were nearly cursed into a lycan." Chan whispered as he slammed the glass down. "I failed my love that is a fact, but I will make it right." Hyunjin admitted but Chan did not believe him for a second. It didn't make any sense to why he would abandon her or not even mention her. "Did she know you loved her? She didn't because you were a cruel alpha." Chan spat. "Harsh, yes. Cruel no. I never forced her to do anything." Hyunjin stated before he got up to leave the room." She was the one who cracked my heart. But don't worry Christopher. The more you worry the weaker you become. You're a head alpha. So act like one."

Taglist for the iconic readers:

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[hobby1008]

could you do a impregnating Wonyoung smut? but where she consents instead of it being non-con.

Lovely wife

If you use a translator, the sentences may be strange.

wonyoung x m reader

Tags: creampie ,Pregnant

Word count: 4717

Ive's Jang Won-young She has been extremely popular since Izone, and she is the best among the 4th generation idols with visuals. She is my wife.

Since Won-young is an idol, dating is taboo, but we always did our best not to get caught, and as a result, we ended up getting married in secret.

However, due to Won-young's busy schedule, we didn't have much time together. That's why we were always hot and happy when we were together.

The company gave Won-young, who worked hard without a day off, a vacation, and she happily asked me to go on a trip.

However, because she was an idol, she couldn't date ordinary people.

However, she was incredibly happy that she had time with me, and decided to go on a hotel vacation without being disturbed by others.

The day before the trip, she packed her bags with excitement and great anticipation for the trip with me. She looked so lovely and made me happy.

The next day, we packed our bags and headed straight to the hotel. We checked in and unpacked right away and started to enjoy our vacation.

This hotel was a place where we could enjoy without worrying about the privacy of celebrities.

We had a simple meal and started to enjoy a full-fledged date.

We watched various programs provided by the hotel, such as massages and movies.

We had a happy time like that, and soon it was evening, and we decided to drink wine together in the room.

We started to have a conversation while drinking wine, just like any other newlywed couple, and the mood got warmer, and we explored each other's lips and kissed deeply, and headed to the bedroom.

When we arrived at the bedroom, she pushed me onto the bed and started to take off her clothes.

She started to do a strip show just for me. She made seductive gestures and expressions to me, and one by one, she took off her underwear, and I started to get even more excited when I saw it.

She wore lingerie underwear that was different from usual for me, and I couldn't help but admire her beautiful body and the combination of it.

She was satisfied with my reaction, and sat down in front of me, took off her pants, exposed her cock, and said, “I’ll make it better for you, oppa,” and stroked my cock to make it erect.

She then bit her lower lip with a lustful expression, and began to caress my cock with her mouth.

She slowly licked the glans with her tongue and sucked it slowly.

I stroked her head and moaned faintly.

She looked up at me with a bright smile, “Do you like it, oppa?” I asked, and when I nodded to her answer, she started to really suck my dick quickly..

She knew what I liked, so she put my dick in her mouth, moved her head back and forth, and sometimes used her tongue to lick my dick, and knew the right timing and intensity, and she took my dick out of her mouth, stroked it with her hand, sucked my balls, and said, "Oppa, I love your dick so much," and put my dick up to her throat and deep-throated it, pleasuring me.

I had a lot of experience with her, but her mouth still drove me crazy.

Then she took my dick out of her mouth, and said, "Oppa, I want to do it now," and I laid her down on the bed and started to take off her lingerie.

When I took off her bra, her beautiful nipples rose up to greet me, and when I took off her panties, due to excitement, a lot of love juice came out, and a thin thread was connected to her pussy and panties. It broke.

“Oppa, put it in right away, I want to feel it quickly,” she said, acting cute, and I tried to put on a condom right away.

She immediately stopped me, saying, “Oppa, just do it today, I want to feel all of it.”

I smiled at her lovely request, and immediately aligned my cock with her vagina, and slowly inserted my cock.

As my cock filled her entire vagina, she moaned softly, and said, “Oppa, it’s so good, I love you, oppa,” and squeezed my cock, and I started having sex with her in earnest.

When I started to poke her pussy hard, I slid in a little further each time I inserted it. Wonyoung looked up at me with eyes full of lust and happiness and moaned to the rhythm.

“Oppa, Wonyoung, I love you so much, do it faster.” I started to insert it deeper and faster each time as she wished, and as my cock hit her cervix, she fell into a swamp of pleasure. Her body trembled with the power of my penetration, and her pussy squeezed my cock even more.

He grabbed her ass and started to pound her while holding her in place, and I rubbed her clitoris with my hand for her. Her pussy started to release more fluid.

"Okay, Wonyoung?" I growled and gave her a short kiss. “I’m so happy I think I’m going to cum, oppa”

I listened to her words and poked her pussy with her favorite rhythm, and she quickly orgasmed and ejaculated on my dick.

Then her pussy tightened even more, and I started to poke Wonyoung’s pussy again, who had just finished ejaculating.

She, who had not yet orgasmed, was moaning loudly at my insertion.

I also felt the signs of ejaculation soon, and I told her about it.

“Wonyoung, I think I’m going to cum.”

She looked up at me with the most lustful expression I had seen today, and said,

“Do it inside, oppa. I want to have a pretty story like you.”

I ejaculated right away, in the deepest part of her pussy, at her lovely plea.

Her pussy was filled with my cum, and when I pulled out my dick, the cum that her narrow pussy couldn’t handle was coming out.

I lay down next to her, exhausted, and she was like that. After kissing me

"I'm so happy to be with you, oppa"

That's how we ejaculated all our cum into her pussy during our vacation.

A few days later, I got home from work.

She ran up to me, and showered me with kisses, and then said with the happiest smile in the world, "Oppa, I'm pregnant. I'm so happy I can have a beautiful baby who looks like you."

I was so happy to see Wonyoung happy, and I also hugged her with joy.

[simp4konig]

nggghmhh... been thinking about Nikto getting into a fight and Reader fussing over him and cleaning up the blood on his knuckles and bandaging his hand as he watches them with hearts in his eyes... 🥺💞

It wasn't that nasty of an injury, really. Really.

You were simply fussing over him too much, as per usual.

His knuckles were split after punching someone in the face perhaps a tad too hard. Just a little. Just hard enough to knock out a few molars, maybe... or a row.

"This will sting," you murmur — though, mostly to yourself, as Nikto isn't particularly talkative, and usually only replies in grunts.

Eventhough Nikto could have gone to medical to have his injuries treated by a more qualified individual, he went straight to you instead: maybe you applied too much pressure on accident when disinfecting the wound with antiseptic and his skin would sting; maybe the bandages were never tight enough and always on the loose side; and maybe your handiwork wasn't as precise or skillful, but Nikto found that simply being around you was enough to heal him.

Yes, it does sting. A lot.

Or it should. Nikto has become desensitised to pain, and it doesn't register like it used to. What should be excruciating agony feels like a dull throb in the background, or the aftershocks felt from a body that didn't belong to him, yet does. Not to mention that he dissociates a lot, so he can make active pain... passive.

So yes, it does sting. It just doesn't hurt.

Nikto lets you do as you please, watching with silent attention the entire time. He keeps his hand limp, letting you hold it however you want...

...Just as long as you're holding it.

The size difference is stark, his large fingers easily encircling your wrist almost in its entirety. He’s big and built, scars and old wounds littered across his pale skin, pink and raw in the places that he was burned. You? You are small and... soft.

Your biceps aren't as big as his. Your muscles aren't as defined as his. Your build isn't as solid, strong, and stout as his is.

Instead, you are… delicate. Like a porcelain doll. And as pretty as one, too. Especially when your eyes are as glassy as they are now, and catch the light at such an angle that it makes them sparkle like rare gems to be treasured and cherished. Nikto's treasure.

Delicate to him, at least; because, no matter how much you insist that you are not petite, not tiny, and not fragile, it further solidifies in his mind how he ought to protect you. Which was annoying as fuck, since you weren't a child that had to be coddled and protected, but it was what it was. It was almost... adorable?

"Is it alright?" You ask, antsy with anticipation, absentmindedly chewing on the inside of your cheek without realising. "Maybe... try flexing your hand?"

He does, surveying your handiwork, twisting his hand this way and that, clenching his fingers into as tight of a fist as he can make it.

"Or... is it, erm... too tight? I-I can wrap it again, if it's uncomfortable—”

“—No.”

Truth of the matter was, it could have been better — any nurse would have been appalled, and hastily bandaged Nikto's hand again for themselves.

But, since it was you that treated him, it was the best treatment which he could have ever asked for.

And it was not "alright", but immaculate, thank you.

With a sigh, you release his hand, and miss how Nikto instantly tenses, missing the intimacy, as subtle and fleeting as it was.

“You get into too many fights," you say, eyebrows furrowed slightly over your eyes in unconcealed disapproval.

A shrug. “Too many people provoke me," Nikto puts bluntly.

“Provoke you how, exactly? By breathing? Existing?"

For a long moment, Nikto was quiet. You were on edge — your sarcasm did not bode well with Nikto sometimes, and it probably came across as malicious and accusatory...

Fuck. Fuuuck...

However, through gritted teeth, Nikto utters: “They… were saying bad things about you.”

Instantly your demeanour changes, and although you attempt to disguise it with a stern expression and cold tone, your features soften considerably, and the furrowed brows and the wrinkles in your forehead smoothen, like ice melting.

“Nikto…”

Nikto, defending your honour? He, punching not just recruits, but other operators, and threatening the commanders with death lest they mess with you? Hurt you? Merely talk badly about you?

Oh fuck... your heart aches, and stubbornly clenches with affection eventhough you ought to scold him, to tell him to stop, to behave rationally... despite not particularly wanting to.

Since the idea of being defended by Nikto is... nice.

Still.

“Nikto... please don't fight people on my behalf.”

Immediately, he becomes defensive, and gruffly grunts a harsh: “Why not?”

You bite your lip. “Because… I don't want you to get hurt. Okay?"

“I don't care if I get hurt. All I care about is you. You're all that matters."

“And I care about you. I care if you get hurt. Because it matters to me. So… don't, okay?"

"...Hmph."

"...Please," you whisper, pleading nonverbally with your eyes. "...For me?"

For you? He would do anything...

...not get hurt, that is.

Next time a person insulted you or made a snarky remark about you in any way, he would hurl a chair at them. Or plot the most inconspicuous murder.

Just as long as he wouldn't get hurt, yes?

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@blackinkniko @arrozyfrijoles23 @wil-xyz @revnatheshadow @feelya @liminal-chickenskin @zoloftwithdrawalnausea @soupiiiie @lizzy019

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A/Ns

One Nikto wip done... 12+ more to go!!!!!, 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉

.....i will only pass away peacefully if i finish these .....

..... then and ONLY then im going to bash my head against a wall so i am in a coma 😇 (JOKE)

Going to miss my anons:(((... Im verysad to have closed my inbox but it was necessary for me 😟...

Anyways, my closed inbox gives me motivation to write as fast as possible so I can interact with them (you!!! <333) again ☺️💞💞💞

[cowboybeepboop]

Temptation

"I’m right here. I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart."

Pairing: Scott Miller x fem! Reader

Genre: Smut, angst with a fluffy ending

Word count: 5.3k

Summary: You have a crush on Scott which leads to a passionate night together, he leaves in the morning and you have to face him at work the next day. 

Warnings: Unprotected sex, p in v sex, one night stand. 

a/n: Idk with this one, I usually write soft and romantic so even when I tried something new it ended soft and romantic. Hopefully you enjoy it, as always send any requests you have my way! I love writing requests, I’m also looking to broaden the characters I write for so let me know if you have anything for other fandoms <3

As the headlights of Javi's pickup truck flickered across the neon sign of the "Easy Sleep Motel," the anticipation of finally seeing Scott again filled the air. 

For the past few weeks, you had been chasing storms together in the heart of Tornado Alley, forming a bond that went beyond the thrill of the hunt. Scott had become more than just a colleague; his piercing blue eyes and strong jawline had sparked a flame of attraction in you that you hadn't been able to ignore. 

He knew about your crush, and while he remained professional, there was an undeniable tension that danced between you like the lightning in the tempestuous skies you both loved so much. Tonight was no different, as you pulled into the motel parking lot, exhausted but exhilarated from another successful day of navigating through the volatile dance of nature's fury. 

The lot was a chaotic symphony of chatter and diesel engines, with teams from all over the country sharing tales of the day's conquests and preparing for the night's rest before the next round of adrenaline-fueled chases. Javi turned to you with a knowing grin, "Looks like we're the last ones in again," he said, cutting the engine. "Ready to face the music?" 

You nodded, your heart racing with excitement, unsure if it was the thought of seeing Scott or the impending storms that lay ahead. The cool evening breeze whispered through the open window, carrying with it the faint scent of rain and the promise of a new adventure waiting just beyond the horizon.

Scott had been waiting patiently in the motel lobby, leaning against the counter and shooting the breeze with the front desk clerk, a young girl with a warm smile and a hint of mischief in her eyes. He had been watching the parking lot, anticipating your arrival, his gaze drawn to the approaching headlights of your truck.

As you and Javi entered the lobby, Scott pushed away from the counter, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. His eyes flicked over you, taking in your wind-swept hair and the flush on your cheeks. “Finally decided to join us, huh?”

You brush away the strands of hair that are stuck to your sweaty skin. Sighing as you lean on to Javi’s shoulder, exhausted from the chase. 

“Yeah, had to stop to get some food.” Javi smiles, wrapping an arm around your waist. 

Scott's eyes flicker to Javi's arm around your waist, a hint of irritation in his gaze. He knows there's nothing more than friendship between you and Javi, but the sight of him touching you in such an intimate way stirs a mix of frustration and possessiveness within him.

He leans against the counter again, folding his arms across his chest. “Good thing you remembered to eat. Wouldn’t want you passing out on the road.” His tone is nonchalant, but there's a hint of an edge to it.

“Guys, I’m gonna head upstairs..” you yawn, grabbing your bag from Javi’s hand. As you bid Javi goodnight and start to head towards your room, Scott feigns indifference, pretending to gather his own things. He watches you from the corner of his eye as you make your way down the narrow hall. 

After a few moments, he follows at a safe distance, his footsteps light and his eyes fixed on your back. He waits until you reach your room and unlock the door before he approaches, clearing his throat.

“Oh, Scott.” Your eyes light up as you catch his gaze, a small smile planted on your lips. 

Scott's heart skips a beat as he sees the smile on your face. He tries to play it cool, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the wall next to your door.

"Hey." He says simply, his blue eyes searching your face. "Got a minute?"

“Mhm, come on in.” You open the door for him, going inside and taking a seat on your bed.

Scott follows you into the room, shutting the door softly behind him. He takes a moment to take in his surroundings, his gaze lingering on the way the dim light casts shadows across your features. 

He sits down on the edge of the bed, his knee brushing against your leg. "So, uh, I wanted to talk to you about something."

“Yeah?” You turn to face him, “What’s up?” Your heart skips a beat as you gaze at his face. 

Scott swallows, his throat suddenly feeling dry. He runs a hand through his disheveled hair, trying to compose himself.

"Well, it's just... I've been thinking... about us..." He trails off, his gaze flickering down to where his knee touches yours.

You press your palm to his thigh, shifting closer to him. “Us? What about us?” Your voice is soft and full of vulnerability. 

As your hand brushes against his thigh, Scott's breath hitches in his throat. It's a simple touch, but it sends sparks dancing across his skin.

He turns to look at you, his eyes filled with an intense mix of desire and uncertainty. "I just... Can I be honest with you?"

“Yes, of course.” You murmur. Scott takes a deep breath, his gaze never straying from yours. 

"I've been fighting this for a long time, but I can't deny it anymore. I'm attracted to you. I feel something when I'm around you that I've never felt with anyone else."

He reaches out, his fingers lightly grazing your cheek, the pads of his fingertips tracing the curve of your jawline. "It's driving me crazy."

You smile sweetly as you lean it for a soft kiss. Scott's eyes widen in surprise as you lean in, but he quickly melts into the kiss, his hand moving to cup the back of your head.

His lips are warm against yours, his body tense as he pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist. He kisses you deeply, his tongue darting to meet yours, a soft moan escaping his throat.

Scott grips your shorts as he tugs them down your legs, revealing the damp fabric of your underwear clinging to your skin. His eyes rake over you hungrily, drinking in the sight of your bare flesh. You shiver in anticipation, your body responding to his touch as if it had been waiting for this moment all along. 

He kisses you again, his hand slipping beneath the elastic waistband, his fingertips grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. You gasp into his mouth, your hips arching towards him as he explores higher. The tension between you snaps like a tightly coiled spring, and you find yourself desperately wanting more. 

He seems to understand, his kisses growing more urgent as he helps you out of the rest of your clothes, leaving you exposed and trembling before him. The room feels electric with the storm of emotions brewing inside you, the anticipation of what's to come as potent as the scent of rain in the air outside.

Scott's hands continue to roam over your body, his calloused fingers leaving a trail of fire as he pulls away the last barriers between you. He stands, quickly stripping off his own shirt and pants, his eyes never leaving yours. You watch, your breath hitching, as he reveals the powerful muscles of his chest and the defined lines of his abs, his desire for you evident in the bulge of his boxers. 

With a sense of urgency, he hooks his thumbs under the waistband and slides them down, freeing his erection. It stands proudly between his legs, a testament to his need for you. He moves closer, his bare skin pressing against yours, and you can feel the heat of his arousal as it brushes against your stomach. 

Your own need is palpable, your body aching for the connection you've both been craving. He kisses you again, his tongue delving deep, as he gently guides you back onto the bed, his weight pressing you into the soft mattress. 

With a groan, Scott positions himself between your legs, his hand guiding his erection to your entrance. He teases you, the tip of his cock barely brushing against your wetness, making you squirm and beg for more. 

He smiles, a predatory glint in his eye, before he finally pushes in, inch by inch, filling you up. The sensation is overwhelming, a perfect blend of pain and pleasure that makes you dig your nails into his back. He pauses for a moment, giving you time to adjust to his size, before he starts to move. 

His strokes are slow and deliberate at first, each one sending waves of sensation crashing through your body like the thunder outside. He watches your face, memorizing every twitch and gasp as he moves deeper, his eyes dark with desire. As he starts to pick up the pace, the storm inside you matches the one raging outside, lightning strikes of pleasure firing through your veins with every thrust. 

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, your bodies moving in a primal dance as old as the tempests you both chase. The sound of the rain on the motel roof is the only music needed as you two lose yourselves in the intensity of the moment.

As your bodies reach their crescendo, the storm outside mirrors the tumultuous passion within the motel room. Your cries of ecstasy meld with the roar of the thunder, and Scott's deep, guttural groans echo through the air as he releases himself inside you. 

The force of your shared climax sends tremors through your limbs, leaving you both panting and gasping for breath. He pulls out slowly, his gaze locked on yours, the connection between you still burning bright. He then collapses beside you, his muscular form sprawling out on the bed, one hand resting on your hip. 

The rain taps a soothing rhythm against the window as you both lay there, entwined in the aftermath of your first intimate encounter. The room is thick with the scent of sweat and sex, a testament to the raw power of your union. 

Scott's eyes never leave yours, a mix of satisfaction and something deeper, something that makes your heart flutter in your chest. You curl into him, your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart as the storm outside begins to dissipate. 

As you wake up the next morning, the room bathed in the soft morning sunlight, you reach out to the empty space beside you, the sheets still warm from where Scott had been lying. 

You sit up, the events of the previous night still fresh in your mind, and a pang of disappointment washes over you as you realize he's gone. His clothes are nowhere to be found, the only evidence of his presence being the lingering scent of his cologne on the pillow and the imprint of his body on the mattress.

As you hastily pull your clothes on, the weight of Scott's absence settles heavily on your chest. The room suddenly feels too small, claustrophobic even, and the air seems to thicken around you. 

You can't believe he left without a word, without a note, without any explanation for his actions. Tears threaten to fall, and the lump in your throat feels like it's about to choke you.

You hear a knock on the door, quickly pulling yourself together as you gather your things. When you open the door you see Javi with his warm smile and a cup of coffee. 

“Good morning Javi,” you murmur, voice quiet as you take the drink from his hand. 

Javi studies your face, concern etching his features. "Hey, you alright? You look like you've been through the wringer."

He takes in your red-rimmed eyes, the tightness in your shoulders, and the slight shakiness in your hands.

“Mhm,” you let out a strangled sigh as you leave the room, locking the door behind you. 

Javi falls into step beside you as you make your way down the hall. He glances sideways at you, his forehead creased. 

"You sure you want to head out today?" he asks gently. "You look exhausted."

“Yeah, of course.” You give him a forced smile, “I'm great, just a little tired.” Your eyes fall on Scott’s back as he talks to one of the team members. 

Dread fills your veins as you take in the scene in front of you. Javi follows your gaze, noticing the way you react to the sight of Scott. He shifts awkwardly, his eyes flickering between Scott and you.

"Uh, maybe you should-" he starts to say, but you cut him off abruptly.

“Let’s go get breakfast,�� you intertwine your fingers with his as you lead him out the door. 

Javi shoots another glance at Scott, a protective look in his eyes as you pull him outside. The sun is already high in the sky, and it's beginning to warm the air.

He doesn't say anything, simply allowing you to lead the way as he keeps pace beside you. He can sense the tension in your body, the way your hand grips his tightly.

You sit in the passenger side of Javi’s truck, sighing as you relax into the seat, eyes fluttering shut. 

Javi can feel the weight of your tiredness in the way you sit next to him, the way your head rests back against the headrest. He watches you from the corner of his eye as he turns the key in the ignition. 

As the truck comes to life, the engine rumbling underneath you, he speaks quietly. "You don't have to put on a brave face for me, you know." 

Your lip quivers as you turn to look out the window. “Javi..” you sigh, tears building in your eyes. 

Javi's heart clenches in his chest as he hears the shake in your voice, the way it trembles as you say his name. He reaches out, his hand finding yours on the console and squeezes it gently.

"Hey," he murmurs, his voice soft and soothing. "You can talk to me. It's okay." 

“It’s Scott..” you take a deep breath, “uh we slept together and he left like nothing happened.” A tear slips from your eye as you bite your cheek, turning to look at him. 

Javi's eyes widen in surprise, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. "What? You slept with Scott?"

He glances over at you, taking in the tears in your eyes, the pain etched into your face. His protective nature kicks in, and he pulls the truck off the road.

“I thought,” you purse your lips, “I thought he felt the same way I did, but I guess it was just him trying to get some.” Your tone gets more irritated the more you speak. 

Javi rubs a hand over his face, clearly frustrated with the situation. "That idiot," he mutters under his breath. He knows Scott has feelings for you, something more than just lust, yet he screwed up his chances with you in the span of one night. 

He looks at you, his eyes soft with concern. "Hey, you know Scott's always been a bit... careless when it comes to relationships."

You nod, taking a deep breath and steeling your expression. “I know, I should’ve known better..” Javi brushes away your tears. 

The day dragged on, each moment feeling heavier than the last as you tried to ignore the storm brewing inside you. You focused on the tasks at hand, the mundane activities of packing up your gear and checking weather reports, all while avoiding Scott's piercing gaze. 

He had retreated to his own space, his eyes dark with regret and confusion. You knew you had to keep your distance; the tension was palpable, a stark contrast to the easy camaraderie you once shared.

Javi, ever the perceptive friend, noticed the shift in your demeanor and the cold shoulder you were giving Scott. He tried to keep the peace, cracking jokes and steering conversations away from the unspoken elephant in the room. His attempts to lighten the mood were met with forced laughter, the tension stretching tauter with each passing hour.

“Let’s go to a bar.” You suggest as Javi starts the engine. “There’s one right next to the motel,” 

Javi raises an eyebrow at your suggestion, a small grin playing at the corner of his lips. "You sure that's a good idea?"

He can sense the need to blow off some steam in your voice, and he knows there's no stopping you now that you've made up your mind.

“It’ll be great,” you smile at him as he pulls out into the street. Scott’s vehicle trails behind you along with the rest of the team. Javi lets them know that you’re going to the bar tonight. 

After a short drive, you arrive at the bar next to the motel. It's a small, dive-bar type establishment, with a neon sign out front that flickers in the evening light. 

As you get out of the car, Scott rolls up on your left, parking his vehicle alongside you. He hops out of his car, he saunters over to you and Javi.

You ignore his presence, grabbing Javi’s hand as you lead him to the entrance. Javi doesn't miss the way you purposefully avoid even looking in Scott's direction, but he decides to play along, keeping his focus solely on you. 

When you reach the door, Javi opens it for you, and the two of you step inside. The bar is dimly lit, the air thick with the smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke. A few patrons are already scattered around, some playing pool, others watching the game on the old television set in the corner.

A few drinks in, Javi leaves to get some fresh air, leaving you alone at the table. Scott comes up to you, his face hardened as he takes a seat next to you, you avoid his gaze. 

Scott sits down heavily in the chair next to you, the sound of his weight hitting the hard wood making you flinch slightly. He leans in, close enough that you can smell the alcohol on his breath. 

"We need to talk," he says gruffly, his voice low.

“Why?” You turn away from him, giving him the cold shoulder. 

Scott scowls at you, his eyes narrowing. "Don’t give me that attitude. We need to talk about what happened."

He grabs your arm, trying to turn you back towards him, but you stubbornly resist. Scott's grip tightens, his fingers biting into your flesh.

You move to pull his hand away, “I don’t feel like talking, Scott.” Your eyes are full of unshed tears as you look at him. 

Scott's expression softens slightly when he sees the look in your eyes, a sense of guilt flickering in his own gaze. He loosens his grip on your arm but doesn’t let go. 

"I know I was a dick, okay," he mutters, looking away. "But that doesn’t change the fact that we clearly need to talk."

“Scott, just leave it alone.” You get out of your seat, walking toward the exit. 

Scott clenches his jaw, annoyed by your stubborn refusal to engage with him. He follows after you, reaching out to grab your wrist. 

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" he asks through gritted teeth. 

“Are you fucking drunk? Leave me alone.” You pull out of his grasp, successfully leaving the bar, Scott still hot on your heels. 

Scott catches up to you just as you exit the bar, the cool night air hitting your face. He wraps his strong arms around your waist, pulling you back against his chest and holding you in place. 

His voice is softer now, the edges of annoyance faded. "Please, just listen to me."

“Scott,” you gasp his name, shocked by his hold on you. “Please stop, please. I don’t want to hear your excuses.”

Scott tightens his grip, pulling you even closer against him. He buries his face in your hair, inhaling the scent of your perfume. 

"It's not an excuse," he murmurs, his warm breath tickling your ear. "I was scared, okay? Scared of what I was feeling." 

You shiver in response, hands moving to pull his arms away. “Scott..” 

Scott resists your attempts to pull away, holding you firmly against him, arms wrapped around your body like a steel trap. 

"Please," he pleads, his voice low and urgent. "Just listen to me. I messed up, okay? I know I did. But I thought-" He stops, taking a deep breath, his words getting caught in his throat.

“Thought what?” You murmur, still pulling at his arms, trying to wiggle away from him.

Scott lets out a frustrated growl, his grip on you tightening even more as he leans down, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck, just below your ear. 

"I thought walking away would make it easier," he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper. "But it didn’t. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I left your room this morning."

“You know that’s not fair.” You sigh, stilling your movements as you relax in his arms. 

Scott takes advantage of your pause, pressing his body even closer against you, his muscular frame molding to the curves of your body. 

He nips gently at your neck, a low moan escaping from his throat as he speaks. "I know. I’m an idiot." You gasp at his lips against your skin. 

He runs his hands down your sides, coming to rest on your hips, his fingers gripping the flesh tightly. 

"But I can’t stop thinking about you, about the way your body felt under mine. The way you responded to me, the way you cried out my name-" Scott cuts himself off with another low moan, his breath hot against your skin, the desire in his voice undeniable.

“Scott, I..” you groan, body reacting to his touch. Scott relishes in your response, his hands moving back up to grip your hips, pulling you even closer so that your back is pressed firmly against his chest. 

He kisses your neck, his lips tracing a path up to your earlobe, where he bites down gently. "Say my name again," he husks, his voice gravelly and filled with need.

“Scott, stop it..” you move out of his grasp, head spinning with desire and your stubbornness.

Scott growls at your resistance, and in a quick move, he pins you against the wall of the building, trapping you between the solid brick and his hard body. 

His eyes are darkened with desire, his face mere inches away from yours. "Stop what? Stop touching you? Stop wanting you?" He leans in even closer, his voice a deep, rough whisper. 

“Quit trying to sweet talk me,” you sigh, head leaning against the wall as his lips work against your neck. 

Scott chuckles darkly, his lips curving into a wicked smile as he nips at your skin. "Sweet talk you? I'm not trying to sweet talk you, sweetheart. I'm telling you the truth." 

He moves one of his legs in between yours, effectively trapping you even further. His fingers trail over your skin, leaving a path of fire in their wake.

You push at his chest, “Scott, not here.” He relishes the sight of your eyes, the way they're filled with a mixture of desire and vulnerability, and he can almost feel the fight leaving your body. 

Scott steps back, his chest heaving from the effort it took to resist his own desires. His eyes rake over your body, taking in the way your chest rises and falls with each ragged breath, the way your cheeks are flushed with desire and frustration.

He runs a hand through his tousled hair, his expression apologetic as he meets your gaze. "Please, I need one more chance. I won't screw it up again, I swear."

You lean forward, pressing your forehead against his shoulder. Scott wraps his arms around you once again, pulling you in close. He buries his face in your hair and inhales deeply, relishing in the feeling of having you so close. 

"I won't walk away again," he murmurs, his voice tinged with emotion. "I promise, I'll stay, just give me a chance to prove it to you." You sigh while giving into him. 

“Please don’t leave again..” your arms wrap around his waist loosely. Scott tightens his hold on you, pressing you even closer against him. His heart leaps in his chest at the sound of your voice, the raw vulnerability in your words. 

"Never again," he murmurs, his lips pressing against the top of your head in a tender kiss. "I won't walk away from you. I promise."

You nod against him, body fully relaxing into his. Scott feels the moment you surrender to him, your body softening in his arms, and he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. 

He cradles you against him, his hands roaming your back in soothing circles. "I’ve got you," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble against your hair. "I won’t let go."

You lean back, searching his eyes for any deception, seeing none you lean in for a gentle kiss. 

Scott melts under your kiss, his body aching for the taste of your lips. He lets out a soft sigh as he deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth. 

He holds your body against his, his hands roaming over your back and hips, as if he can’t get enough of touching you.

Scott's eyes never leave yours as he takes your hand, leading you back to the motel. The air is thick with unspoken words and the weight of the unresolved tension between you. As you reach his room, he opens the door, his gaze intense and filled with determination. 

He pulls you inside, the door clicking shut behind you, the final barrier between the tumultuous world and the passion that simmers just beneath the surface of your relationship. His arms wrap around you, pulling you tightly against his chest, his heart beating a staccato rhythm that echoes the thunderstorm in your own chest. 

His lips find yours again, the kiss hungry and desperate, as if trying to devour the regret of the morning. His touch is gentle, yet firm, as he helps you shed the layers of your clothing, revealing the soft, welcoming warmth of your skin. 

This time, there's no rush, no racing heartbeats to the crescendo. It's a slow dance of exploration, a silent promise that this isn't just a fleeting moment of passion but the beginning of something much more profound. Rain patters against the window, serenading your reunion, as Scott lays you on the bed, his body hovering over yours, his gaze never straying from your eyes. 

With a groan, Scott rolls onto his back, pulling you along with him so that you're straddling his hips. His eyes are dark with need as he looks up at you, his hands moving to grip your waist, guiding you into position. You lean over him, your breasts brushing against his chest, the heat of your skin melding together as the storm outside reaches its peak. 

He lifts his hips, his erection pressing against your wetness, and you bite your lip, the anticipation of feeling him fill you again making your stomach clench with desire. With a slow, deliberate move, you lower yourself onto him, sheathing him in your warmth. His eyes never leave yours as you start to move, your hips rising and falling in a rhythm that matches the steady beat of the rain on the window. 

Each stroke sends waves of pleasure crashing through you, the intensity building with every movement. The power dynamic has shifted, and now you're in control, dictating the pace, the depth, the very essence of your connection. Scott's hands roam your body, exploring every curve and crevice. 

His eyes glaze over with passion, his breath coming in ragged gasps as you bring him closer to the edge. You lean down, capturing his lips in a fiery kiss, the sound of the rain a constant backdrop to the symphony of your love-making. His hands tighten on your hips, urging you faster, deeper. 

With a moan that's swallowed by his lips, your hips move faster, riding the wave of pleasure that Scott's skilled touch brings forth. Your eyes are locked on his, the intensity in them making you feel exposed, yet safe at the same time. 

The sound of the rain is the only soundtrack to your passion as you move together, your bodies in perfect harmony. And then it hits you—the orgasm that's been building since the moment his lips first touched yours. It crashes over you like a tidal wave, stealing your breath and making your body convulse. 

You cling to him, nails digging into his skin as you ride out the storm of sensation, your pussy squeezing tightly around his cock. Scott groans beneath you, the feeling of your climax pushing him closer to his own. His eyes never leave yours, the blue depths of them filled with a mix of passion and something more, something that makes your heart race even faster. 

As your tremors begin to subside, you collapse onto him, your breaths mingling in the damp air, the rain outside a gentle lullaby to the aftermath of your love-making. And as you lie there, tangled in each other's arms, you know that you've found something that's just as powerful and unpredictable as the forces of nature you both chase—a love that's as wild and uncontrollable as the very storms themselves.

Scott gently slides out of you, turning you on your side so that you're facing away from him. He wraps his arms around you, his chest to your back, and pulls you close, his hand splaying over your stomach as he presses tender kisses to the sensitive skin of your neck. 

His breath is hot against your ear as he whispers sweet nothings, his voice a comforting rumble that soothes the storm that had been raging inside of you. You sigh contentedly, feeling the tension in your body slowly uncoil as his warmth surrounds you, his heartbeat a steady metronome against your own. His hand moves in slow, lazy circles on your stomach, each caress a silent promise of the passion that still burns within him. 

His erection is still firm against your backside, a testament to his desire, but he's in no rush to take you again. Instead, he holds you tightly, his legs entwined with yours, as if afraid that if he lets go, the moment will be lost forever. His touch is tender, almost reverent, as if he's worshiping every inch of your skin. 

You snuggle closer, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, the weight of his arm across your waist, a reassuring presence that grounds you amidst the chaos of your swirling emotions. The world outside seems so far away, so insignificant compared to the sanctuary you've found in each other's arms. 

And as the last droplets of rain tap against the window, you drift off to sleep, lulled by the steady beat of Scott's heart and the gentle embrace of his arms, feeling more alive and connected than you ever have before.

You jolt awake, anxiety filling you as you notice the bed empty once again. You sit up in the bed, looking around the room with worry, before noticing Scott coming out of the bathroom. 

Scott notices the panicked look on your face as he slips back into bed next to you. "Hey, relax," he says softly, his hand coming to rest on your back, rubbing gently in small circles. He pulls you in close against him, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you snugly against his chest. "I’m right here. I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart."

You press your cheek to his chest as you cuddle closer, “You scared me…” you murmur, eyes fluttering shut as you bask in his body heat. 

Scott tightens his arms around you, holding you close as he peppers your hair with soft kisses. "I’m sorry," he whispers, his voice filled with regret. "I didn’t mean to scare you." He can feel the tension in your body slowly melting away as you relax against him, and he rubs your back soothingly. "I’m here now. It’s okay."

[overnightheartbeats]

Laurel couldn't pinpoint why she trusted each word he said. He said it himself, they were still (more or less) strangers, yet she found herself nodding along to what he was saying. She believed him. "No, I do." She shook her head in response, trying to stop that train before it went further. "Believe you, I mean. Can't explain why, but I trust what you're telling me. I'm...kind of wrapping my head around it still, and it's a lot." Processing the fact that her friend was saying such horrible things about her, and bullying others on campus? It made her feel so stupid for not seeing it earlier. She lived with this girl, how could she not? A laugh spilled past her lips at his statement, telling it like it is. Yes, Laurel could attest to that. "Yep, I got a taste of that earlier. Probably why I believe you, you have no trouble just laying it all on me."

The feeling of his fingertips against her eyelids was soothing. Was it wrong that her heart was beating with anticipation? Just like it had that day their lips met. Containing her smile was an impossible mission, not that she wanted to, but she could feel the corners of her lips turning upwards. No one else, he confirmed; it mattered to him enough to clarify. "A vacancy, I like that. Might need to submit my application soon," she hummed in thought, as if considering. Knowing damn well her mind was made up. “Oh no, wouldn’t dream of competing with your sister. That’s a whole other league.” Family was completely different, she knew that much, and he had made that clear earlier too.

His question amused her, because the answer came to mind fairly quickly. “Hm, yes and no. I had seen you here, in this building, a few weeks ago. My physics class is also here, but just saw you really quickly. I think I was going up the stairs and you were going down. Figured you were new, you had that look we all did back at orientation. But, party was first time I really saw you. Lucky you were gaining all that attention with your party trick or I might’ve missed you that night.” It was something she had been pondering over, how easily she would’ve missed seeing him, especially running around the party with Jenny. “I got lucky you gave the devil a chance,” she dared to nudge him slightly. “My turn, and hm I’ll ask the same thing.” Talk about lack of creativity. “Did I just barge into your life at the party?”

Jenny was trying to maintain her composure, but she couldn’t help the glare that she threw his way. What the actual fuck. “Wait, you’re not coming back to the room?” All her questions directed at Laurel. Hearing from Eli was bottom of her priority list. “We find times to have fun, don’t worry,” she finally directed at him, biting her bottom lip to keep herself from rolling her eyes. One exaggerated sigh later, Jenny conceded realizing there was no way to beat this one. For now. “Okay, well I guess you’re finding new friends. Honestly, you guys can just use our room to study! Especially if it’s an all night thing. Safety and all.” No, he was determined. She could see it in his eyes. “Ugh, well fine. Lau, just be super safe. Wouldn’t want to see you on the campus news! Kidding, kidding. Take care of her Eli,” struggling to say his name without seething.

“Jenny, come on! I’ll be perfectly fine, I trust him. But thank you, and sorry about lunch. I’ll pay you back for it,” Laurel offered, but Jenny had already turned on her heel and was walking towards the building exit. “Were you serious about all night? Because it looks like I might be locked out of my room for the day.”

"I'm not swaying you to believe me. I know how people can be different for everyone. But I know a snake when I see one. I'm also not trying to scare you. I want you to see it for yourself. I figured that you wouldn't believe me if I told you without any proof." Eli wanted her to come to her own conclusion before it was too late. His eyebrows furrowed slightly at hers searching his but nonetheless gave her a small smile. "I don't like to lie. Usually tell it like it is." There was also the deal where he didn't like liars. But that was neither her nor there. He left it at that. Now it was up to Jenny to hopefully slip up and show her true colors when she let her guard down. He did tell her game on but he wasn't going to do the work for her. Bullies fell on their own.

His thumbs caressed over her eyes and hummed softly at how warm her skin felt. Memories of their shared kiss two weeks ago came to the forefront. It was like he had searched for a love he never had and could finally stop looking. "There's no one else." he confirmed. Somewhere deep inside him he hoped she believed that. "You do have competition though with my baby sister she's very needy."

"Was the party the first time you saw me?" he asked, wanting to start slow. An easy question if she will. Eli wore a semi smug smile on his lips as he started to play with her hand. Seeing Jenny try to tame her inner rage was funny to him. He knew the more he poked her the more it'd build up for her and she was bound to trip up.

"We're going to be busy all night actually." He knew how that came off but he didn't explain. "Homework and all that. Interesting to be paired up for class and having this big project we have to work on. Seems like school is getting in the way of your fun." Eli exaggerated his word knowing how that'd get her fuming and had zero qualms about it. Looking at his watch he sighed. "You know, we better get going if we are to get started on that project. Always a pleasure Jenny."

[hanamukes]

Uika and her inner monster, Doloris

Admittedly when I first watched It's MyGO and Ave Mujica 0th, I didn't really think much of Uika. She and Doloris are presented as such vastly different entities that my brain kind of glossed over her, because I don't tend to go crazy for characters who are presented to us as always being bright and warm. Even when the last episode aired and I saw her undergo the transformation from Uika into Doloris, it still hadn't fully set in for me (though perhaps this is simply because I was busy losing my mind in excitement about seeing Ave Mujica at all as well as the sequel announcement).

But reading the interviews that came out after the anime finished airing completely changed that. Uika is Tomori's opposite in every regard? She has a secret so intense it made her voice actress stand out of her chair and yell when she heard it? I need to know more! What on earth could this seemingly kind character be hiding?

I've been keeping a close eye on her content ever since, and it's slowly making me feel insane. So, in anticipation for the anime, as well as their 4th concert which will happen in December and thus give us even more Doloris lore, I wanted to compile a post on the both of them in which I will present my various thoughts and theories.

Doloris

Uika is, in the most literal sense, Doloris' actress. This could perhaps lend to many believing that Uika is not Doloris, or rather that Doloris is not Uika. At the same time, I want to pose a very simple question.

Who came first: Doloris or Uika?

Timeline-wise, Doloris came first. Can Uika even exist without Doloris? Can she be who she is without us immediately recognizing her as being Doloris? What came first was not "Doloris is a puppet persona Uika plays as on stage," but rather it was "Uika is Doloris from Ave Mujica." This was their intent; to introduce Doloris to us, and then to introduce this girl who has an identical design to her in the anime, who is seemingly her exact opposite. What weight could Uika's scenes hold, if not to tell us that she will later turn into the monster known as Doloris? On her own, without Doloris, what does Uika represent?

Doloris herself talks about wanting to be seen for her true self. Is Uika Doloris' true self, or is Doloris Uika's true self? Which is it that they want us to believe? Which one does "Uika" want us to believe? Which one is Sakiko, or perhaps Oblivionis, trying to convince us to believe? Who is "Uika"?

Our introduction to this character was not a Sumimi scene, or her consoling someone, or a frame of her smiling, or of her expressing her love for music. It was this.

This creepy, disturbing montage of Doloris, covered in blood, inviting someone into her cult. Inviting you into her cult. Inviting you to dig deeper.

Though if you want to go even further back, I would argue our first, true genuine introduction was Black Birthday itself.

You see, I don't believe there's any true and correct way to interpret Ave Mujica's songs. The songs are whatever you make of them. That's part of the insanity of Ave Mujica; of never having a proper answer, of always wanting to dig deeper. So I won't say this is that correct reading, but rather one of the infinite possibilities. That said, after watching the intermissions from their concerts as we currently know them, I can't help but feel their first 6 songs perfectly tell the story of Doloris. It goes something like this:

Black Birthday: Doloris' rebirth into her true self. The dyeing of one's purity into corruption. Finally being able to see what was once unseeable (perhaps the light in the pitch black darkness, which she discusses a lot in their stage plays). It's a disturbing birthday party welcoming the new her.

The Two Moons ~Deep Into the Forest~: Now reborn, she finds herself lost in a forest. The play sequence in the last episode of It's MyGO feels reminiscent to this song; Doloris straying into a forest (Loft Moon), while Oblivionis ridicules her, and yet she's so beautiful she cannot take her eyes off her despite the pain of having her heart torn asunder. The song even has imagery describing candles lit on a table, which we can see in the anime rendition of this scene.

Choir 'S' Choir: She's slowly giving in to the insanity of Ave Mujica. This song reminds me a lot of Perdere Omnia; when she finally stops her denial and begins to understand why the others wish to destroy the world. She's letting herself become an esquire, a fallen angel if you will. She hears voices screaming at her, and she knows she's being hunted down, but she keeps dancing anyway. She's testing out her new abilities.

God, You're a Fool: This song represents her inner doubts. What exactly are they fighting for? For whose sake? Why do they have to be in this situation to begin with? If God wasn't a fool, surely everything would be fine... right?

Mas?uerade Rhapsody Re?uest: She's decided she no longer cares about anything. No longer cares how corrupted she becomes, no longer cares to hide her dark feelings. She's just going to fully embrace it all, she's going to let herself be taken by the shadowy jesters. The mask is a part of her now.

Ave Mujica: With her mask as her skin, it's her turn to lure others in. She's going to corrupt you. She reassures you that those with masks will fulfill your any wish, and that even though this is a place of no return, don't worry, there's nothing to be scared of.

It's interesting, because while the songs can apply to anyone (the other dolls for one, and perhaps even the listeners themselves), I can't ignore the parallels between the story these songs are telling, and the story of Doloris as we've seen in the concert intermissions. (Regarding the Utopia single and the ELEMENTS series, those songs were written more to fit a specific narrative, and I don't think they apply to the dolls themselves as directly. That's just my own personal take on them though and is why I won't be analyzing them here)

As for the intermissions themselves, there's a lot going on in them and much of Doloris' dialogue isn't about herself, but I want to go over some general observations:

Doloris uses 僕 (boku). This is significant because she's the only one who has a personal pronoun that differs from her actress; Uika uses 私(watashi). Ave Mujica songs use 私 (watashi) as well, though I don't think this means much in the context of Uika or Doloris because it's just for formality (if anything, it's interesting because it's an inverse of Uika's narrative opposite, Tomori; who uses 私 (watashi) in her daily speech but 僕 (boku) in her songs). That said, in Quaerere Lumina, there's a segment where "Doloris" switches to 私 (watashi), which many found haunting because it almost felt as if those words came from Uika herself, and that she switched back to Doloris after speaking vulnerable words from her heart.

She uses 君 (kimi; "you") in an interesting way. In Perdere Omnia, this referred to Oblivionis. In Veritas, however, she uses this repeatedly in the context of "someone" who she wants to be reborn with. It's someone who extended a hand to her, and who took her mask off her. It's someone she wants to be with for the rest of her life, just the two of them. And at the end, she uses it in reference to you, the audience, who will surely attend their next concert. Who is it that removed her mask? Oblivionis, or us? (Like many things in Ave Mujica, my own interpretation on this is that it's probably Oblivionis, because at its core, this is a yuri band, and Oblivionis is in fact someone who we've seen accept Doloris for who she is)

Each doll has a specific thing they focus on: Oblivionis stands her ground despite everything but also talks about finding things pitiful, Timoris is logical and an observer who wants to be acknowledged, Amoris talks about her lost love and boredom, Mortis talks about peace and quiet as well as the beauty in death. For Doloris, the thing she highlights that the others don't is us watching her slowly spiral into insanity, and particularly as of Veritas, her sense of her own body (as well as this attachment to someone else, as mentioned above). She sees herself as an empty shell, which is true for the others as well, but on top of this she has a fixation on her mask and the relationship it has with her body. It's her skin, and simultaneously, if you remove it, below that you'll find her true, perhaps ugly self. It means a lot to her that someone could love the her that exists without the mask. (Is this intended to be foreshadowing for the relationship between Doloris and Uika, and which of the two of them is her truest self?)

Doloris is an embodiment of insecurity, and simultaneously, she's a ferocious monster when she performs. Rico Sasaki herself claims that she feels like Doloris possesses her when they hold concerts. Her voice is cold, bitter and pained; it's a far cry from Uika's speaking voice, which is so warm and comforting. She is plagued with sorrow, of which she would rather die and be reborn than have to deal with. Her ideal world is simply one of being together with the one who accepts her in all of her ugliness.

Uika

There's a sort of trend to Uika's scenes: when she's around someone else, she waits for them to talk or express emotion before she matches their energy, and when she's alone, she drops the happy idol facade. The very first time we ever see her, she's doing just this.

This is also apparent in two other (coincidentally Sumimi) scenes, where the same thing happens in each: Uika is matching the energy of who she's talking to, but the second she's separated from them by a door, she has an almost empty expression on her face.

(The fact this has happened for both Sumimi scenes, when Uika has so little screentime so every second we see of her is supposed to be precious, has me really wondering just how much she likes her "dream job." Also, I wonder if this is a coincidence: immediately after both of these shots, she looks at her phone and sees Sakiko on her screen which cheers her up (the first is an old text, the second is a phone call))

It's something that on its own feels a bit deliberate, but when you take a certain intermission from their concerts into consideration, it really does become something you can't ignore.

This is the one part of the concert intermissions in which Doloris uses 私 (watashi). This is what many interpret to be Uika's words.

To put this simply, she feels as if she's an empty shell who has to match the energy of the people around her. When nobody is there to give her something to react to, she reverts to that husk. This is exactly the vibe I get from a lot of her scenes in the anime.

(I talked in depth about these two scenes in my Taki&Uika writeup so please do check that out for my thoughts on them, but to recap for this context: it's interesting to me how she looks so "empty" until she reads Sakiko's message (and feels seen by her, thus breaking her out of that state; I also want to mention she never messaged Sakiko first despite having her phone number, which to me is such an explicit example of her feeling like she doesn't exist unless someone else contacts her first that you may as well have a bright red arrow pointing at it), and on the right we can see her matching Sakiko's energy)

And actually, she almost implies as much to Mana directly.

"It's easy for me to sing when I'm with you, Mana-chan." On the surface, this just seems like something she's saying to make her excitable partner happy, to show agreement even though she's exhausted and not nearly as excited as she is. Mana reacts, calling it a compliment. But is it really? Her wording here is deliberate: she can only sing well because she's with her. Because she's being seen by someone else. Watching all of their scenes, I can't shake the feeling that Uika would not "shine" as an idol without Mana by her side. Immediately before this, Mana's happily waving and thanking the filming crew while Uika gives them a more heartless nod. Uika's appeal as an idol is that she's "cool" (this is written on her character bio), so it's not that I would expect her to match Mana's energy in that sense (who's appeal is her energy)... but I do wonder what she would be like in this context without Mana, given she already seems rather tense even with her. (Here's an easily missable clip of her sighing the second she's alone)

What about her comforting Tomori? Surely that was the one scene where she was acting of her own emotions? And what about when she talked to her in the final episode? It's not as if she was matching Tomori's energy 1:1! She reached out to her on her own!

And maybe that's true. However, consider this: that happened after she got Sakiko back in her life. Is an empty husk still just a shell if the one who's there to look at her―and bring her to life―is by her side now?

Let's take a closer look at these scenes though, shall we?

The planetarium. Uika was there to look at the stars, which are reflective of her childhood memories with Sakiko. Then, she finds Tomori, who she recognizes as being from Crychic (because she attended their concert a year ago). I could believe it if she sat next to her because Tomori looked upset; Tomori has subtle facial expressions yes, but it's pretty obvious when she's hurt. She decides to sit next to her, but her seat won't recline (I've seen people point out that she's been there before, so she surely would have known how to put the seat down; I think this is very funny and could be true, though I do want to point out Tomori said "this seat works like this" and Uika was sitting in a different seat than we saw in episode 8 anyway). Tomori helps her and they make indescribable eye contact briefly before they go back to watching the stars.

Then she kept an eye on her when they left and caught her on the stairs. Pretty standard stuff. From the get-go though, she was matching Tomori's energy. This is really subtle and more obvious in motion, but when she's asking if Tomori's okay, Tomori's head dips down twice, and each time Tomori's head dips, Uika's dips down a second or two later to match her.

If it was just once, I wouldn't think anything of it, but twice? Why is she studying her reaction this closely to the point of replicating it?

Then this happens, and I'll just leave my commentary from a year ago because it still applies:

Uika stares at Tomori and the Crychic photo that she saw on their social media comes to mind. She focuses in on Sakiko and Tomori... but moreso Sakiko. This kind of goes under the radar as it comes across as her bringing up stars because she knows it's something Tomori clearly likes and thus could be a bridge of conversation between them, so to speak, but I can't shake the fact that thinking about Sakiko was what prompted her to start talking about the stars she can see in Tokyo. Sakiko, who she was separated from for so long and who she was only able to reunite with in Tokyo.

(As a side note before I continue, this conversation makes me wonder how familiar she is with Tokyo. I'm not well-versed in Japan's geography nor do we really know anything about Uika's personal life, but I do know she lived on an island as a kid because she says Sakiko visited her island. It's also her chat icon)

Another easily missable detail, but when she picks up Tomori's notes, she waits a second for Tomori to give "consent" (via eye contact) before she continues talking. I'll also just mention here that I do think Uika meant what she said about singing being something that conveys someone's heart, and I feel like this was the most honest she was in the entire show.

Moving on to the episode 13 confrontation. I'll be honest, this whole interaction is very weird and as I'm typing up this post I'm still not sure what to make of a lot of it.

Once again, Uika is in the planetarium, this time in the same seat she was in for episode 8 before she met up with Sakiko (starting to see a theme here). Then she spots Tomori and grabs her shoulder, calling her Tomori-chan. Tomori seems confused so she checks that it really is "Tomori" and says they met there before. She does the same thing she did in episode 10 where when Tomori shifts her head, she shifts hers too while she's talking to her.

I like this shot because it feels like she instantly goes into "handsome" mode when she realizes this girl is a fan of "Sumimi's Uika."

This is where this interaction gets weird, because Tomori says she doesn't know who Uika is, and Uika responds with... "I'm glad she doesn't." Huh? Even Anon herself says "Huh?" out loud here. I could not possibly give you an explanation for why Uika would be "glad" that Tomori doesn't know who she is. Why is she trying to get close with her if she doesn't care that Tomori doesn't know her?

Then she asks if Tomori's song worked and Tomori says yes. It still feels like she's trying to gauge her feelings (but for what?). Then she claims she doesn't know Tomori, they just "met at the planetarium before." Anon seems pretty weirded out still. Then she changes the subject and asks if the two of them are in a band. When Anon shows her her phone, which has all the band members listed, she stares at it for a second before asking if she can follow.

(Anon's face being cut off here is interesting to me given this is from Uika's point of view, and really what could be so interesting in that photo?)

The length in which she stares at it makes me think this is likely how she learned MyGO exists, though I can't really piece together what she gets out of this aside from knowing what band Tomori is in. Then she asks if she can follow them and leaves. The whole interaction feels so pointless yet so deliberate: we didn't get closure on Taki's character arc in this episode, but we got this scene of Uika following MyGO's social media account? I'll be interested in seeing how this is relevant later on.

Oh, and the most important part of this scene: Tomori never told Uika her name. Anon is visibly weirded out by this. Of course, this scene is also followed by another shot of Uika not having to match anyone's energy, looking stern as she seems to whenever she's by herself. (She's looking at Crychic's social media page and commenting on how Tomori is from Sakiko's old band, by the way; how did she pull that up so fast? She just sat down?)

Uika and Tomori are narrative opposites. The director for the anime stated that Uika is her polar opposite in every regard. Ricochi also pointed out that while Tomori's songs turn her human, Uika's turn her into a monster. Their episode 10 confrontation was intended to be them meeting before the Ave Mujica ball gets rolling, so to speak, in order to allow them to contrast greater when the sequel comes out.

In general, what I make of Uika's cheerfulness is it's reflective of something Ricochi said in regards to Ave Mujica as a whole: like the moon, she can't shine on her own, but when others look at her, a light glistens from her. It almost makes me wonder if she wanted to become an idol in order to, like she said in her introduction clip with Mana, "make others feel better too" with her songs, at an attempt to mask the fact she can't shine when she's alone herself.

Those are the biggest points I wanted to articulate, so below I'll drop some other observations.

Regarding the flashback scene of Uika and Sakiko as kids... Uika is blushing here when Sakiko is not.

Normally I wouldn't think anything of this, because that's just how the models are (for instance, Sakiko's casual clothes model seems to always have the blush regardless of her mood, while Oblivionis of course doesn't; Uika's model also doesn't have a constant blush), but this scene was hand drawn. It's more deliberate. I don't want to insinuate that this implies Uika cares more about Sakiko than Sakiko cares about Uika because I don't think that's what they meant here at all, just that these specific memories may hold different meaning to Uika than they do for Sakiko. Perhaps more importantly though (and even less obvious) is that Uika's hair looks longer in the shot of them looking at the stars than it was for their meeting and the bug catching. It makes you wonder how much time may have passed between those two memories. (I do recognize this may have just been a continuity error of sorts, but she is wearing a different outfit too)

In Sakiko's conversation to Nyamu, she hints that she got Uika for her band because of Sumimi's popularity. This is interesting to me because in episode 7, she absolutely... glares? at the Sumimi music video.

...Which makes you wonder how she really felt looking at it. In any case, I don't think it was just for the fame because you don't exactly call somebody and tell them to help you forget everything if it's just for the money. That's a pretty intimate thing to ask somebody, and especially for Sakiko who up until then had been actively avoiding speaking anything from her heart. We also know that Uika does the lyrics for Ave Mujica, so we can truly only make guesses as to what transpired between their talk and the final episode...

Oh, also, when Sakiko calls Uika, she blushes. Which feels pretty notable to me when seconds beforehand she was in "cool, kind of broody idol" mode.

As for the last episode...

When Nyamu asks if she can go to Uika's place, she says yes! It makes you wonder how close she is with everyone by this point, and also what her home life looks like.

This one is sold on the voice work, but she sounds super happy to get to see Sakiko.

This also happens at the end of the episode, when she asks if she can ride the train home with Sakiko despite the fact she got there in a cab. I wrote my thoughts about this here, but it is interesting to me how it implies she might not know about Sakiko's home life at this point.

For this line, it's not lost on me how similar this dialogue is in reflection to what Doloris says in their stage play immediately after; with Oblivionis talking about them being dolls, and Doloris questioning her every word. It's as if she'd turned into Doloris the second she put her mask on...

Tying it all together

What's striking to me is that in all the trailers for the Ave Mujica anime―which by all means will be where we learn more about Uika―we've only seen one shot of her.

The rest have been Doloris. From this we can presume that the doll lore from their concerts will be relevant to the actresses, we just don't know to what extent.

It's scary really, because... seriously, even if Uika does feel like an empty shell, there's more to it than just that. And despite all of my analysis up until this point, I have not a single clue what her actual deal could be. Even after I post this, I'll continue to watch her scenes over and over, trying to piece things together with what little we have right now.

I'll be very interested to see both Doloris and Uika in the upcoming anime, and in what ways the lines between them are blurred.

[cluelessteam]

Whispers Through Time: {~Whispers of Destiny~}

A/N: IT'S THE FINAL CHAPTERRRRRR!!!! I really hope you guys enjoyed this story and the journey in it!

Summary: After being mysteriously transported into the world of House of the Dragon, a modern-day woman poses as a seer to gain entry into the Targaryen court. Armed with knowledge of the future, she secretly warns Rhaenyra and Daemon of looming dangers while hiding her true identity. As she grows closer to both, romantic tension builds, but so do the risks of her deception. With Daemon's suspicions rising and Rhaenyra’s trust deepening, the reader must navigate her lies while trying to alter their tragic fate—before everything unravels.

Characters: Rhaenyra & Daemon

Pairing: Rhaenyra x Fem!Reader x Daemon

Word Count: 1125

Tag List: @snowtargaryen, @hippiedippiekitty

Chapter 10 (Final Chapter)

The dawn had broken across the sky, casting a soft, golden light over the Red Keep. The air was still, as though holding its breath in anticipation of what was to come. The reader stood at the window of her chambers, watching the city below slowly come to life. But her mind was far from the bustling streets of King’s Landing.

Last night’s confessions weighed heavily on her, the truth she had finally revealed to Rhaenyra and Daemon still fresh in her mind. There was no turning back now. They knew everything—or at least as much as she dared to tell. Her secret had been laid bare, and the future of Westeros teetered on the edge of uncertainty.

She could hear footsteps behind her, the quiet sound unmistakable. Turning slowly, she wasn’t surprised to see Rhaenyra and Daemon enter the room, their expressions unreadable. They had come together, just as they always did—united in everything, including the questions that still lingered in the air between them.

“You didn’t come to us this morning,” Rhaenyra said softly, her eyes scanning the reader’s face. “We were worried.”

The reader forced a small smile, though the weight in her chest remained. “I needed some time to think,” she replied. “There’s a lot to consider.”

Daemon’s sharp gaze lingered on her for a moment before he stepped forward. “You’ve been keeping a lot from us,” he said, his voice calm but with a faint edge of accusation. “Now that we know... what’s next?”

The reader turned away from the window, facing them both. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I never planned to stay here this long. I thought I’d do what I needed to and... leave before anything got complicated.”

“And yet, here you are,” Rhaenyra murmured, stepping closer. Her voice was gentle, but there was a firmness to it. “Inextricably bound to our fate.”

The reader nodded slowly. She had been so careful—so determined to avoid changing the future too much. But now, standing before them, she realized that her mere presence had already altered the course of events more than she could ever have anticipated.

“I thought I could control it,” the reader said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But everything is different now. And I don’t know how to fix it.”

Daemon crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Maybe it’s not something that needs fixing,” he said, his tone thoughtful. “Maybe this is how things were always meant to be.”

The reader’s eyes flickered with uncertainty. “You don’t understand. I’ve seen what’s supposed to happen. I’ve tried so hard not to interfere, but... the closer I got to both of you, the more I feared I would change too much.”

Rhaenyra reached out, taking the reader’s hand in her own. “You think we’ll fall apart because of you,” she said softly, her thumb brushing gently across the reader’s knuckles. “But fate is never as rigid as we might believe. Maybe it was always meant to bend.”

Daemon’s gaze softened as he watched the two women before him, his expression unreadable. He stepped closer, placing a hand on the reader’s shoulder. “The future isn’t written in stone. Whatever happens next, we’ll face it together.”

The reader’s heart clenched at the warmth in their words, but the fear that had gripped her for so long still clung to her. She had spent so much time trying to distance herself from them, to protect the future she thought she knew. But now, she wasn’t sure if she had the strength to keep pushing them away.

“I’m afraid,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Not just of what might happen to you... but of what might happen to me.”

Daemon’s hand tightened on her shoulder, his voice low and steady. “You’re one of us now. Whatever comes, you won’t face it alone.”

Rhaenyra squeezed the reader’s hand gently, her eyes filled with quiet determination. “You’ve already changed our lives in ways you can’t even imagine. And we wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The reader’s throat tightened with emotion, her heart swelling with the intensity of the moment. She had spent so much time running from her feelings, from the fear of what her presence in this world might do. But now, standing here with Rhaenyra and Daemon, she realized that perhaps fate wasn’t something to be feared. Perhaps it was something to embrace.

“You’re both so certain,” the reader said, her voice thick with emotion. “How can you be so sure that this is the right path?”

Rhaenyra’s eyes met hers, and there was a fierce certainty in her gaze. “Because you’re part of it,” she said simply. “We’re stronger with you.”

Daemon nodded, his expression serious. “Whatever comes, we face it together. No more hiding.”

The reader swallowed hard, feeling the weight of their words settle over her. There was no more running. No more pretending that she could somehow keep herself apart from them. They had already bound themselves to her, just as she had unknowingly bound herself to them.

“I can’t promise that everything will be perfect,” the reader said softly, her voice wavering. “But... I don’t want to keep running anymore.”

Rhaenyra smiled, her grip on the reader’s hand tightening. “Then stay,” she whispered. “Stay with us.”

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the reader allowed herself to breathe. The fear that had consumed her began to loosen its grip, replaced by a cautious hope. She wasn’t sure what the future held—none of them were. But for now, that uncertainty didn’t feel like a burden.

It felt like a promise.

Daemon’s hand slipped from her shoulder, and he moved closer, his gaze intense as he looked between the two women. “We’ll carve our own path,” he said softly, his voice filled with quiet resolve. “Together.”

The reader nodded slowly, a sense of peace settling over her. She had been so afraid of changing things—of disrupting the future she thought she knew. But now, standing here with Rhaenyra and Daemon, she realized that maybe the future wasn’t something to fear. Maybe it was something to shape.

With them.

As the three stood together, a quiet understanding passed between them. Whatever the future held, they would face it side by side. The reader no longer felt like

an outsider looking in. She was part of this world now, as much a part of Rhaenyra and Daemon’s story as they were a part of hers.

And for the first time, she wasn’t afraid.

Whispers of destiny echoed in the air, but for now, they were content to let them fade into the background. The future could wait. Because they were exactly where they were meant to be in this moment.

Together.

[imabillyami]

So basically you're saying Roman and Jimmy are the bad guys who hold Jey back and should be blamed for everything and Sami is the innocent savior who never did anything wrong?

That’s not what I was saying/implying at all. Go back and read that post again.

What I’m saying is that all these guys are part of a very complex situation. All of them made questionable decisions - good and bad - at times and they all need to deal with the consequences of their actions (some more than others).

There’s a lot of hurt feelings and bruised egos and broken trust on all sides and things will only work out if everyone involved owns up to that.

I’ve seen so many different versions of “who is the bad guy” and most of them are valid to some extent. There’s honestly no right or wrong here, there’s only subjective interpretation.

Like… here’s my personal interpretation (without all the mushy feelings and stuff):

Sami originally came in to fix his reputation and to feed off of Roman’s popularity, I’m very aware of that. He grew to love the family though, especially Jey, and that’s something he didn’t anticipate going in and it made things very difficult very quickly.

Roman has loads of unresolved trauma and trust issues of his own to deal with from the Shield days and other things, and that’s not an excuse for the choices he made regarding his family and the things he put them through, but it sure makes the situation a lot more grey than black or white. He’s trying to hold on to control in his own way. His character is so interesting to watch and study, honestly.

Jimmy, even though he hides it behind humor and smiles, has a boatload of ego, insecurities and abandonment issues going on, but like Sami said last night, he’s not a bad guy, he just makes bad decisions sometimes. When he fucks up he’s always trying to fix it in his own (sometimes misguided) way.

And Jey. There’s just so much to say about Jey. He’s constantly stuck between a rock and a hard place. It’s been like that for years. He’s owned up to a lot of past mistakes and a dealt with a good bunch of his trauma ever since he joined Raw and has definitely grown the most out of everyone involved.

And let’s add Solo too. Even Solo isn’t the inherently bad guy people wanna make him out to be. Roman made him Tribal heir and he stepped up when Roman disappeared. He made shit work in his own way, cause he felt like he didn’t have a choice and he learned from the best. So now he doesn’t want to play second fiddle anymore and who can blame him?

What I’m saying: None of these characters fit the good or bad/ black or white category and that’s what makes this so compelling. There’s probably a hundred different opinions on this debate out there and I love that, cause it’s entirely up to our own personal experiences and moral perception how we see things and whose side we’re on.

At the end of the day this all comes down to a clusterfuck of misunderstandings and bad communication and questionable decisions and I’m loving every second of it. There’s nothing else like it.

[hamletunfortunately]

gonna ham post violently today

Have we ever EVER considered a Hamlet thats simply monotone? one that isn't screaming his emotions and crying in your face?

what about the Hamlet that only yells when hes truly angry? that just gets slightly aggressive body language and a stern voice when people annoy him?

maybe im just an idiot, maybe i just dont understand Shakespeare, but i genuinely have never been able to read TBONTB in this.. aggressive..loud, yelling manner! he seems dead! tired! like he's over it, clearly at some point in the play hes just OVER it, right?

it might not be good performance-wise, maybe not as interesting, but damn, it sure would be a joy to watch a quiet, dying Ham. maybe a guy who got worn out of talking with his entire body, or shouting every word, that maybe he just got *tired* and decided "i dont have the energy to put on a show right now".

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Dungeon Meshi: Delicious in RPG!

(Sprites + bonus art here!)

[dazais-guardian-angel]

kinda wild to me that one of the most compelling aspects of both Chuuya and Kunikida's characters to me, that I never really see talked about, is how they're heavily set on a doomed crash course towards complete and utter destruction, and how I am so, so worried for them both.....

[jichanxo]

early sunday six 🌼

tags! @four-white-trees @passthroughtime @phantasy14 @overdevelopedglasses @skysquid22

here's something with kuwana that also has lost judgment spoilers. (i don't remember who has and hasn't played, so excuse the tag😭)

Here he thought when he was disgraced and fired that he wouldn’t have any more parent-teacher interviews. Now they wracked his nerves something fierce, and he had a corpse left afterwards instead of paperwork. Hell of a trade-off, that was. Sometimes third year students used to ask why he decided to become a teacher, and he’d shrugged and given some canned response about how fulfilling it was. 

Kuwana’s got another bully’s corpse tucked away in a safe, isolated corner of the world. At least now when parents asked him what he had to gain helping with such an act, he could muster up a little more gusto when he called it fulfilling. Even though most of them gave him a look like he was full of shit, they’d trusted him enough to follow through with it, didn’t they?