#maybe use it more for references for her sculptures

[fillinforlater]

SULLied MINd

Male Reader x Kim Minju, Seol Yonna (Sullyoon)

Length: 10.228 words

Tags: art-project all nighter turns threesome, secret crushes, softly making out, stripping, striptease, shy to bold, double blowjob, worshiping cock and balls, cunnilingus, fingering, clit play, facial, cumsluts, virginity taken, missionary, sweat, stocking kink, riding, rimming, stand and carry, cum drinking, lots of perverted thoughts, lucky!you

TW: I barely finished this in time, so the editing is not that in depth lol

Inspiration: Minju and Sullyoon just go together very well, dunno if @sinswithpleasure was the first to give this idea, but the pairing definitely comes from The Bunker... the rest is my own craziness

(A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY FAVORITE GIRL! Happy Minju day to everyone, I hope you enjoy this fic which was supposed to be like around 4-5k...)

“No, you gotta put it in here, not in there!”

“I-I can’t, my hand is too big for the hole.”

“Then try using your fingers, that should work.”

“Eh, okay, but you need to hold onto the legs, otherwise it’ll fall over.”

“Let me get in between the—ah, Minju, watch out! Now my hand is all white.”

“Oops, Sorry.”

The struggle behind you is real, the struggle in front of you—the unfinished essay due tomorrow that is—is real too, but those spoken words cannot be real. You know exactly what Minju and Sullyoon are referring to when talking about white stuff and holes and size. After all, they are working hard to wrap up the project all of you have procrastinated on for so long and it’s bound to be a mess.

You start to trip over your own unspoken words. The lewdness in your mind is unfathomable, a mess can be a mess without mess being the wild, chaotic, imaginary sex that seems to creep into your brain more and more.

No, focus. It’s just a mess because Sullyoon and Minju still don’t know how to put together the human-sized post-modern sculpture of a robot made from cardboard, newspapers and glue—white glue, that drips from Sullyoon’s hand as she tries to shove a painted cardboard cylinder into—

You did it again. Your thoughts are betraying you.

“What are you looking at?” Sullyoon nags, when she spots your dreamy gaze on her hand. Wait, are you drooling? What the fuck is happening?

“N-nothing, nothing,” you quickly turn around and look at the pathetic pile of words that neither make sense nor reach the required minimum amount to pass. “It’s just that—you two are too loud, I can’t concentrate.”

Minju throws you a concerned look, while Sullyoon aggressively wipes her hands on a paper towel and hits you over the head with a piece of cardboard. Now there’s some stickiness in your hair

“Oh yeah? You’re still the furthest behind—I’ll do the writing, I can’t build for shit—that’s what you said and you are still not finished.”

“Sully, please, don’t scream,” Minju groans and gets on her knees in between the sculptures legs, her head on level with what could be its crotch. “Let’s just focus, okay? Can you give me the, uhm, white stuff? I need to fix the butt.”

And now Minju is spreading glue all over the—it’s better you look away and focus on the task ahead. The essay should go over all the different periods of, uhm. Or maybe the various stages during, some-thing? Perhaps the teacher wants a concise summary of how you came up with the idea and created the illusion of Sullyoon sticking her fingers in Minju’s pussy and making her face contort into—

“You’re drooling!” Sullyoon shouts and hits you again.

“Sully, please!” Minju tries to calm the situation down.

“What? Can I not be angry that this lazy ass is just daydreaming—”

“Sully, language! And stop screaming!”

“You’re both screaming and shouting, how should I concentrate?”

“You—”

Sullyoon is about to throw hands. Though they both might give off a similar reserved, kind, beauty vibe to the unsuspecting outsider, Sullyoon and Minju are quite different. It shows now more than ever, when Sullyoon slams her fist on the desk next to you and stares you down into the chair, while Minju sits on her bed, one leg crossed over the other, head lowered in defeat and annoyance.

“Stand up,” Sullyoon orders, her grip on your biceps harsh, as if she tried to scar you with her nails. “I’ll do it, save the project while you can fuck off.”

“The fuck?” you shout back, face angry. Sullyoon’s hand is slapped away and you’re about to fight more if she doesn’t back off. “You won’t do anything, and don’t curse at me. Who do you think you are?”

“Guys—”

“Oh my God, you’re unbelievable!” Sullyoon interrupts Minju and opens her adorable eyes wide in rage. “You’re gonna fail us with that—pathetic excuse of a text.”

“It would be better if you could keep your mouth shut, Sullyoon, and let me finish this in peace. Also, the robot is still not upright. If he falls over, Miss Kwon will rip our heads off.” You can barely hold yourself together. The only positive thoughts for Sullyoon, if you can call them that, are the lewd ones, those imagining her naked, her navel exposed, her pussy bare.

“Guys, I—!”

“Oh and that’s my fault? I bet your drool will make it unstable. I swear if you turn around one more time—”

“Then what? You’ll beat me, assault me? I think Miss Kwon won’t give you a better grade then—”

An ear-shattering boom. The door is shut, the door to Minju’s room—Minju, who is not with you anymore. For such a kind and bubbly girl, this fight must have killed her. She was the one suggesting that you all do the project at her place, with her parents out of town. She made cookies beforehand and had something planned for dinner too.

“I-I think we overdid it,” Sullyoon sums it up with an usually soft whisper and you nod in shame. Minju has been nothing short of an excellent host for the two of you.

Suddenly, Sullyoon’s phone rings. She doesn’t get time to answer it however, as the caller seems to end the call within a moment's notice.

“I’ll be out, gimme a second,” Sullyoon says and runs to the door.

“Sure.” She didn’t even hear that, that’s how quiet your voice was. Outside, you hear Sullyoon hurrying down the stairs. There is turmoil in your head about what you ought to do. Should you just sit here and wait for them to come back? Is it better if you go downstairs as well, apologize to Minju, so the three of you can continue with the project? Should you continue alone, perhaps?

You decide on option four: sneak towards the door, carefully open it and then lay low while trying to pick up what they are talking about. They surely aren’t fighting anymore, but their voices are loud enough for you to clearly hear every word.

“It was stupid of me, okay? Can we go back upstairs and finish our sculpture?” Sullyoon asks with loving care.

“I-I don’t know if I can,” Minju sniffles. “This was embarrassing.”

“What do you mean? You weren’t embarrassing, we were. This fight was—”

“No, you don’t get it, Sully!”

Now things seem to get heated. You can hear Minju jumping up from a chair, while Sullyoon gasps.

“Then explain it to me, Minju!”

“Okay, screw it.

“I like him, okay? Two years, I have waited two years for us to finally be in a project—and now you two are fighting! You are ruining my chances with him!”

The silence is deafening. If you weren’t lying prone on the floor already, your knees would have collapsed and you would’ve landed in the same spot anyways. What a revelation! For the first time in your life, you believe that either your ears are deceiving you or that you’re in the most lucid dream imaginable. Never before has a girl had feelings for you—

“This can’t be real,” Sullyoon suddenly laughs out loud. “You like this guy?”

“Wha-what do you mean?” Minju hisses back, whiny, like she’s about to cry. “He is very-very handsome a-and I’ve seen his abs. He is also smart, have you heard him talk about history? It’s so attractive.”

“Yeah, of course I have, he is like talking non-stop in history class.” Sullyoon’s tone has shifted from shocked and dismissive to a bit dreamy, almost like she is admiring you. “And the way he pronounces all these foreign words, or how he gives it his all in PE—”

“Wait a minute,” Minju interjects and you can hear the grin as it forms on her face. “You like him too, Sully!”

“Not anymore, not after his lazy ass didn’t do a damn thing during our project.” Another second of silence, then both of them start laughing hysterically, one is stomping on the floor, the other tries to cover her mouth to muffle the loudness.

You’ve heard enough. No, seriously. At this point, you could die happily. Two of the prettiest girls in the entire school like you and both of them are in your project group which will surely last until the next morning at your current pace. What else could you want more? Countless guys would kill to have such an opportunity.

But you want more.

“Crazy, we have the same crush. Oh, have you seen the pictures of his abs?” Minju asks excitedly after the two have finished their laughing fit.

“No, but I was about to ask: how did you get those?” Sullyoon gasps again and then giggles while both start to whisper. The whispers are too quiet, you can barely pick up any syllables. This marks the perfect moment to get back in front of the PC so they won’t catch you eavesdropping when they come back up. It also gives you time to think about what you want to do.

The image of them and their crush on you hasn’t fully settled yet, however, you’re already planning how this night might continue, what might happen, what you should say. Unlike during exams, you don’t feel pressure or tension that’s about to crush you—there is just excitement and a feeling of being loved.

“Hey, we-we are back,” Minju says a few minutes later, her face all red when she enters her room. Sullyoon follows after her, her hair a bit messier than before. Unlike Minju, she is able to hide her feelings for you quite well, now that you know.

“Hey,” you respond with a soft voice. “Look, Minju, I’m so sorry about earlier. I should’ve done my job. I won’t let you guys down this time, I promise. Sullyoon, if you want to, you can write the text. Sorry that I was so rude earlier.”

“I-it’s fine.” Both their voices seem to break when you stand up and give each an apologetic bow. With your new knowledge, you assume that this is a good sign, like selecting the correct dialogue option in a video game.

“Are you sure you want to switch, though?” Sullyoon asks and you nod.

“It’s settled then.” Minju grabs a wrist from you and a wrist from Sullyoon and has this adorable, bright smile on her beaming face. “Let’s not fight anymore and finish this dang project!”

“You are absolutely right, Minju!” you gleefully say. “You two are pretty awesome, so I’ll give it my all.”

Both their breaths pick up in pace; who would have thought that you could make the hearts of girls flutter with just a bright, sunshine smile. Sullyoon and Minju quickly dive back into work, ears still red, and you pretend to be completely unaware. Unaware of their feelings, unaware of their hopes, unaware of their—potentially sullied thoughts.

But could those two angelic looking girls really have the same impurities in their minds as you do? Can it match your fantasies of one of them admitting their love to you tonight, you kissing, cuddling and fucking secretly in the bathroom, while the other continues to work on the project? Maybe they have similar thought, but did they ever consider—

“Can you, uhm, hand me the, eh—” Minju stutters and taps her temple in thought. She looks adorable doing so.

“Do you need the model? Some cardboard? Scissors?” you ask back but Minju shakes her head, a bit abashed that she lacks the focus to say which item she needs. Thinking of scissors, your fantasy does not stop at some one-on–one lovemaking. You’d want the other to join, all three of your tongues in a make out session while your hand is in the back of their panties. You want to fondle their butts and hear them moan before they would scissor, their wet pussies rubbing up and down your manhood until you explode.

“I need the… white stuff.”

“You need the white stuff—from me?”

A quiet whisper, Sullyoon could not have picked it up. Minju halts for a second, then her face turns beet red and she hides it behind her palms, while her eyes keep looking at your awfully-well played innocent expression. Worriedly, you reach for her face and Minju gasps. What does she expect? Certainly not what follows.

“Oh, there is some glue in your hair, Minju. Guess we should wash out the white stuff~”

With that said, you grab her hand and pull her out of her bedroom. To the surprise of Sullyoon, whose questions go unheard, you and Minju enter the upper floor bathroom. There you immediately find a wet towel and start to rub Minju’s hair, and with every second that you dishevel her hair, you also seem to dishevel her mind.

Minju is perplexed, trembling, unable to react to you, especially when you inch closer and really focus on that annoying spot. The two of you forgot to turn on the bathroom lights, so there is only the dim moonlight to reveal to you the absolute dream that are Minju’s eyes: full of love, uncertainty and want.

“I think I got it out,” you finally whisper and drop the towel. “Sorry for messing up your hair.”

Minju smiles softly: “N-no, thank you. You might have saved it, a-actually.”

“Minju—” A moment of silence, full of purpose, of tension, but you bask in it. You can hear Minju’s heart racing and if you’re honest, the muscle in your chest is pumping like crazy as well. “You, you are very beautiful, one of the prettiest girls on this planet.”

“Re-really!?”

“Yes. I wish I could

“Kiss your lips; they look so soft.”

They are so soft, no doubt about it, especially when they accept you so willingly at first and then won’t let go when you try to pull back a little. Minju is on cloud nine and she wants to stay. Her adorable hands hold onto your sleeves, while you hold the back of her head securely in the palm of your hand. There is no tongue movement, there is no tongue movement needed, because it all comes together for her—

A fairy tale moment, out of nowhere, for the girl with her crush.

But your play isn’t over. After a short while, you regretfully remove yourself from her lips and continue to hold her close, hand on the small of her back. When you look down you are greeted by a look—this look of mesmerized love, with teary eyes of joy and panting lips of desire on Minju’s flawless features. How could you want more?

This is how mankind moves forward: by wanting what they don’t yet have.

“Minju,” you take a deep breath and close your eyes. “I—before we continue, and I really do want to—I have to tell you something.”

“Y-yes?”

“I like you, I really, really like you.

“But you know how multiple people can have the same crush? I, my heart, has this issue that—I, I like multiple people! I can never escape it, there is nothing I can do. That doesn’t mean that my love isn’t real—I just want to be honest with you.”

Minju, in the midst of all these surprises and twists and turns for her, looks surprisingly calm and nods carelessly. Of course she is a bit dazed, after all, your lips were just on hers and she can take them back just by getting on her toes, but this should still be a bit weird for her. At least, that is what you assumed.

“I-I don’t care,” she suddenly blurts out and her arms wrap around you tightly. “Why should I judge you? There are probably so many pretty girls out there. I-I’m just happy that you… noticed me.”

“Are you for real?” In a sudden surge of happiness, you lift Minju up and spin her around. “You are so wonderful, I know why I fell in love with you.”

This should wrap up your Oscar performance—well, it’s already beyond that. At this point the feelings for Minju feel more than just acted. How could they not? She is gorgeous, light, her lips are tender, her character adorable and you cannot escape what your heart is telling you: love her, because she loves you.

There is however still—

“Pl-please! Please love me too!”

A loud scream, and Sullyoon bursts into the room. You may not be able to see the correct colors of her face, but you know she is either pale because Minju ‘stole’ you from her or she is red all over because she thinks there is a chance, a tiny chance that you also like her. Nonetheless, all these thoughts become irrelevant, because Minju almost collapses from shock. You catch her before she is able to hit her head on the sink.

The bathroom door still rattles, but the three of you just stare at one another, eyes wide open. The situation is so absurd, you must be dreaming, dead or in heaven—all at the same time, Minju’s entire existence is in your arms and Sullyoon seems willing to join her. She is close, her hands folded as if she is begging for your love. Her breath is hot, right in your face and so unsteady.

“Sullyoon.” Minju’s voice is faint, not even a whisper, but it’s loud. It’s both a statement and a question, a question directed at you. Is this what you were talking about earlier? Could it really be that the two who have a crush on you, would not have to fight? To put it very simply: Do you love Sullyoon too?

At least tonight, you do.

“I—

“I do, actually.” Those few words have you out of breath, before you can continue, Sullyoon has taken a spot in your arms next to Minju. The speed with which your dreams come true is mind boggling, but you play it cool and hold both of them close, an arm around each of their waists.

“You mean it?” Sullyoon has never sounded this cute, not in class, not during breaks and definitely not tonight. Who can resist her with those pouty lips that adorn silky smooth, perfectly symmetrical features? “You really like me?”

“Yes, I do, I like you both. This, this has to be a dream.”

“What, uhm,” Minju stutters and looks at you, similar expression to Sullyoon, her eyes also beaming, her chin tilted towards you—their similarities become uncanny in this dimly lit bathroom. “What are we going to do now?”

“I don’t know,” you whisper and smile.

“We still have a project to finish,” Sullyoon sighs and puts her head against your chest, which does not make for a good pillow with its constant up and down movement and Minju right next to her.

“I never thought I’d say this, but I think we should finish it. Let’s focus and then maybe our thoughts are a bit more… sorted.” Both girls nod, but it takes some more convincing before they let you go. The fear that they could lose you to the other makes them stay a bit longer until you have to push through them. It’s a playful struggle, which is only resolved when the three of you go back to Minju’s room.

All is quiet for a good, productive thirty minutes. The cardboard sculpture is finally painted and read to dry, the text only needs a few more tweaks, the project is in its final stage. All you can think about, however, are your groupmates, especially when your sight drifts away from the task ahead to their faces, their hands, their hips.

“Minju, can you help me?” Sullyoon groans. “I need to finish, this bottom part is so hard!”

“Of course, let me just—put this here and this into that—do you think it fits now?”

“It still looks too big, don’t you think? Maybe we should stretch it—”

“Or we could share it? I think if we both do it, it will be better.”

Hit yourself on your forehead, because the brain behind it once again can only think of the lewd. Minju and Sullyoon are trying their best to format this text and split it into fair portions for the presentation—yet all you think about is how they admire your big cock, share it in between their parted lips and then, Minju helps Sullyoon to go down on it with her throat.

After you are all covered in her spit, Sullyoon would grab your base and put it on Minju’s folds, ease you into her and all kinds of moans would fill the room and alert all neighbors who are still awake.

“I think this is good,” Minju ultimately concludes and turns to you. “Do you want to take a look too?”

You shake your head. “Uhm, no, I’m sure it’s excellent. Wow, looks like we really finished it.”

“Okay, so.” Sullyoon spins around in her chair, hands hidden in between her thighs and everything vibrates. “Are we going to talk now about… our situation?”

“I think we are all adults, we can talk about it.” Minju fidgets a bit and looks at you. They are both waiting for you to say something, but you just smirk without a worry in the world and lay down on Minju’s bed.

“Sure, we can talk. Let’s be honest, be free. Don’t care what the rest things, just

“Tell me what you feel.”

Sullyoon pushes the chair closer to you with her feet and Minju sits down on her bed, less bold than Sullyoon, because her eyes are fixed on the other end of the mattress. You get her attention when you fingers lock with hers, but the first to speak up is Sullyoon.

“I think I have a crush on you. Two years ago it started and I can’t explain why, but—you grew very handsome during that time a-and you’re pretty smart, so—”

“I feel the same!” Minju suddenly shouts and her fingers squeeze yours tightly. “And sorry, I-I once took a picture of your, uhm, abs when you changed your shirt. It was stupid, I’ll delete it right now—”

You laugh and pull Minju on top of you. Now her gaze cannot escape yours anymore and she has to see the true awe in your eyes. A natural awe for her beauty, her kindness and the way her honesty reveals all those secret feelings.

“Delete them if you like,” you hum and place the palm of Minju’s hand on your abdomen while flexing your muscles. “But you can take some more high quality pictures, if you want to.”

Jealousy overtakes a formerly hesitant Sullyoon and she pounces onto the bed next to you. Her hands are still hidden in between her thighs, but you can see that she wants to touch what Minju is already groping.

Sullyoon doesn’t even have to ask. You grab her wrist and slowly guide it under your sweatshirt. Though she tries to act shocked and abashed, you can feel her digits roaming all over your abs greedily as she visibly drools. Minju had most of your attention until now. Now it’s Sullyoon’s turn to feel your love in the form of a wet kiss pressed right onto her already wet lips. Unlike Minju, she tries to go all in on the first go, but you quickly pull away with a chuckle and watch her eager tongue searching for your mouth.

“Sully, open your eyes,” you softly laugh at her and drag a finger over her flushed, tender cheek as she does so. “Don’t be scared, I’m not going anywhere. If you are okay with it, I can love you both with all my heart.”

“I want to share you,” she says with determination and immediately contradicts her statement by lunging at you and starting a torrential kiss that has Minju hiding her face behind her long, cascading hair. It’s all faux, because in the meantime, she has rolled up your sweatshirt to your chest. Gently she pokes your pecs and you giggle into the kiss with Sullyoon.

“Good to know we are all on the same page,” you finally voice your own feelings when Sullyoon backs off to catch her breath. “I think I could cuddle you both for the rest of the night and forget every worry, every task, every stupid responsibility ahead of us.”

Funny how your dreams come true, again. An arm around each of their waists, you pull Minju and Sullyoon deeper into the softness of pillows and blankets generously spread on Minju’s mattress. Both your cheeks are quickly peppered with kisses, cute, hesitant ones from Minju, from chin to ear and wild, playful ones from Sullyoon, from the edge of your collarbone to your lips. She seals them again and this time you can hear Minju become jealous with a loud huff.

This back and forth of envy, you see no way to disrupt it anytime soon. Come to think of it, maybe you don’t want to. This dynamic pushes them further to reveal more of their love, so give them what they want. You are theirs to love and play with—but you will play with them too.

“Minju,” you say, your voice purposefully low and more serious than before. “You have such amazing hips. They are wide and look so perfect on you.”

You turn towards her and reach for the top of her skirt. Insert a couple fingers into it and let them glide along the waistband until you reach the outermost point of her hips. Minju tenses up when you begin to grab her hips, the skin of your palms right on her underwear, slipped into her skirt. You pull her even closer and she is back to holding onto your sleeves.

“Such nice hips.” Rub them, and Minju starts to rub herself on you, face on your bare chest and crotch on your thigh. Speaking of thighs, Sullyoon might have felt neglected for a second, so you find her mouth with ease and bully her tongue with yours while putting a hand on her inner thigh. Sullyoon shrieks the more you touch her jeans-clad legs, no matter if you go down to where her calves begin or if you go up to where her pussy is aching.

“Wow, Sully, your legs, your thighs are fantastic. I bet they are very soft.”

“T-touch them more, please,” Sullyoon softly whimpers and you nod. Minju is too enamored with her own thighs around yours, she does not realize her friend popping open her jeans and sliding them down. Your hesitation, your careful planning gets thrown out of the window when you slide your hand over her soft skin and go to bite her lips.

“They are the softest, damn, I could knead them all day long.” Your hot breath mixes with Sullyoon when you go from some basic thigh stimulation to cupping her sex and pressing your palm on her covered clit. “Your panties are cute too~”

No time to focus on Sullyoon’s embarrassed face, because Minju’s takes your entire view. You try to kiss her mouth but she backs off, even climbs off the bed and stands next to it. Both her hands firmly grasps the hem of her skirt, her knuckles turn white—that’s how hard she grabs it while her voice sounds absolutely love drunk:

“I-I have cute panties too,” she complains and lifts her skirt up, higher than you thought she would dare to. Not only you, her crush, that can see this most private part, but her friend can as well. Your eyes are glued to the small, pink garment with its tiny wet spot at the front, very cute indeed, maybe even cuter than Sullyoon’s baby blue panties which at this point become ruined on your hand.

“They are really cute, Minju.” You smile, she cracks a small smile. “I did not know you two had such lewd minds and wild fantasies.”

“Can we see y-your underwear now?” Sullyoon avoids your statement with a pout while simultaneously confirming it. Minju joins her nods, skirt still held high, her panties just a bit wetter at the thought of you. “Yes, please, we-we want to see it, it’s only fair!”

“Hm, how about a deal then, my two lewd girlfriends: I’m all yours, you can undress me and play with me until you are satisfied, but first you give me a show. I want you two undressing each other slowly. Sounds like a deal?”

At this point, everything is so out of control, you might as well ask for a favor that usually would get you kicked out. After all, this isn’t porn, not every girl is into girls and into threesomes, but Minju and Sullyoon have shown to be so needy for you, their libido will take over all reasoning. To no surprise, both only hesitate for a second.

“I’m okay with that,” Sullyoon whispers. “You too, Minju?” She leaves the spot in your arm and walks behind her friend. “Are you okay with me touching you?”

“S-sure.” They both get into it quickly. Minju drops her arms and lets them dangle while her needy face is directed at you. Sullyoon makes sure you can see her fingers play with the waistband of Minju’s skirt, just like you did, and she teases you by only pulling down one side, then the other. It’s only when you groan in disapproval that she moves upwards and pulls Minju’s sweatshirt over her head.

You totally expected a bra behind this comfy, cotton barrier, but no: Minju is wearing a white shirt underneath and the tease just continues. Sullyoon finds the lowest button first and works her way up, sending chills down Minju’s spine.

An amazing midriff, toned abs around a cute little navel; you can’t help but ogle when Sullyoon presses her fingers into them and gasps in surprise. No words need to be spoken—that’s probably how Minju likes it more as well. She struggles to relax, especially when the final button pops and her shirt opens like curtains to reveal her bra, the same color as her panties, erect nipples visible through the thin garment.

“May I?” Sullyoon asks, basically blowing the question into Minju’s ear as her hands already fiddle with the clasp of the bra. The sound of silence is nothing but hot breaths and the faint creaking of Minju’s bed as you adjust yourself to get closer with her still-covered breasts.

Still covered.

Still covered.

“O-okay,” Minju whispers, whines, it doesn’t matter, you finally get to see her upper body in all its glory, and you find glory to be an understatement: her breasts are perfectly symmetrical, not saggy but quite perky and a bit smaller than your hands. You could cover them up and knead them without much effort; it takes effort however to not look absolutely overwhelmed as your dreamy eyes focus on erect nipples and round arolae.

“What do you think?” Sullyoon asks the question with an answer that is obvious but hard to put into words.

“Minju, your body looks…

“... very, very hot. I-I’ve never seen something so flawless.”

“And you haven’t even seen what’s behind this~” Sullyoon’s voice is sultry as she taps Minju’s skirt. She once again teases you, her smooth hand under the skirt and once you hear Minju shriek, you know what she is about to do.

Sullyoon removes those stained panties, while Minju still wears her skirt. The miniscule petite underwear wraps around her ankles while her dainty digits wrap around the hem of her skirt. At this point, your drool cannot be held back. You need to see her most private place.

“Let, let me do it!” Minju says with confidence and as if she’s as impatient as you are, pulls the skirt up and shuts her eyes. Sullyoon chuckles lightly and gets a hold of Minju’s hips, while you are about to dive into those wet folds, small and pink and definitely untouched. You notice a small strip of hair above her clit which looks like it should twitch at any moment. Minju’s visible arousal becomes your visible arousal and before you can end the teasing session and start a new session, Sullyoon interrupts you:

“Shouldn’t Minju undress me now?”

“Wha—oh… yeah, sure,” you respond and hold your horny horses. Minju looks a bit dazed when she drops the skirt and opens her eyes again. You help her gain focus by reaching for her hands and holding them. “Nothing to be ashamed of, Minju, you are perfect down there as well.”

“Re-really?”

“Yes, I’d never lie to the girls I love.

“Now, why don’t you help Sullyoon get out of those… tight jeans?”

Sullyoon smirks. Without you noticing it, she pulled her pants back up and made sure that they showed the outline of her shapely butt. She is a tease like no one before or after; fortunately, Minju seems to not get what teasing is about: with you still right beside her, she puts all her strength at pulling the denim down—the denim and Sullyoon’s panties.

“Eh, what are you—Minju!” Sullyoon complains loudly.

“So-sorry, did I do it wrong?”

“You, you were too fast!” The shyness returns to Sullyoon’s face as she buries it in the crook of her arm.

“No reason to fight,” you ease the flames of conflict burning before you. “I think Minju did a great job and your butt is great, Sullyoon.”

“No, don’t say that, it’s too big!”

“I’m gonna say it again.” You emphasize your words with a good squeeze on both her cheeks while Minju’s wide eyes are on the dumpy before her. “You have a fantastic butt, not too big, definitely not too small, perfect.”

Your kneading hands leave Sullyoon a mewling mess, speechless, even as Minju goes and undresses her further. It’s all a lot quicker, the top is removed easily, the bra falls with a simple click and Sullyoon is the first to be fully nude. She stops your continued handsy attacks on her ass with a spin around. Unlike Minju, her pussy is freshly shaven and her entire body looks like it was made just for this moment.

“Someone is prepared,” you say with a smile and drag a finger up her midriff to her tits which are nice handfuls of their own, similar in size and shape to Minju’s.

“You are mean,” Sullyoon pouts and suddenly starts to embrace you. You gasp. Her body is almost scorching hot. “I waited so long for this.”

“I bet you couldn’t look better. No dream, no imagination can make your body look any sexier.”

“Thank you, I’m glad you like it.”

The sound of someone crawling onto the bed gets your attention. Minju lays next to you, her skirt finally kicked away and she stretches her arms forward in search of your embrace. That poor girl is desperate, however, you don't make it to her before Sullyoon unzips your pants.

“It’s only fair if we get to see you too, right, Minju?” Sullyoon asks, her tone making it clear that the answer cannot differ from her needs.

“Should I strip for you too?” you say with a witty smile, but Minju comes to Sullyoon’s aid.

“Enough teases, I—I can barely think!”

The striptease must have set something in motion within Minju: her shyness is only apparent on her fully red cheeks, her hands have already taken a different path. Boldly, they yank down both your pants and briefs in strong pulls, past your erection, which comes back swinging at her. Minju dodges it, because she can’t stop looking at Sullyoon behind you, arms resting on your shoulder, lips suckling at your neck.

“So big!” Minju can’t hold back her shock and awe at the shape, the bend, the size.

“Yeah,” Sullyoon dreamily adds. “We really have to share him from now on.”

Things are out of control. Every further plan of slowly getting to your dream threesome scenario are useless, laughable, when both your new lovers shove you down into the mattress and somehow find space on and in between your legs to intently stare at and past your phallus. Minju and Sullyoon are often not on the same page, sometimes polar opposites in class, but tonight they are more than united.

While Minju is in awe at how you throb and seemingly still grow into the air, Sullyoon eagerly spits into her hand and slowly spreads her saliva on your shaft. The thoughtfulness, carefulness and softness of her fingers make every pump of hers fade into absurdity. Right from the get go, Sullyoon’s handjob is already on the level of jerking yourself off.

“Have you ever done this, Minju?”

“N-no, never. Not even close.”

“I—only have with not real dicks.” The two blush, but there is no need to intervene. Unlike in most classes, they are eager to study for themselves, learn new tricks and test them on you.

“How about you start down at his… sac, while I go from the top?” Sullyoon suggests and Minju nods. However, you still see hesitance in her eyes, probably because she is afraid of screwing things up or making it awkward.

“They are full for you, Minju,” you softly coo and brush her hair as she almost puts her lips on them. Okay, maybe she needs the tiniest of pushing to finally— “Put your lips on them, give them a kiss. Nothing to be afraid of.”

Sullyoon is definitely not afraid. She wraps her mouth around your cockhead and begins to twirl her tongue around it. The taste of your precum must have urged her on, because she hums happily and sucks loudly. It’s like your cock is the straw in her favorite drink, that's how aggressively she sucks and her eyes roll into the back of her head. Meanwhile Minju sneakily tries to find the best spot to wrap her lips around your crown jewels, her adorable expression unpurified when she decides to go for it.

“Oh fuck!” you groan and your body arches involuntarily. More of your manhood is pressed onto their faces, into their eagerly drooling holes; it makes you wonder if you even need their pussies if this already feels so heavenly. The eagerness and playfulness of Sullyoon paired with the gentleness and sweetness of Minju makes for a double blowjob that could drain you embarrassingly fast.

Something inside your stomach tells you to just release it. Let them suck, let them play, until you just release it all over them without worry in deep bliss. Before that happens, you have to get back at them. It would be quite the disappointing night if this was your only load and they wouldn’t have any stimulation until then. You have to come up with a plan, while Sullyoon pops you from her mouth with a deep moan.

“Minju, let’s switch,” she suggests. “He tastes really good, you have to try it. Don’t worry about the size, I couldn’t take it either.”

“Oh, okay, his, his balls are quite hard. Does this mean they are full?”

“Fuck, yes,” you interrupt their horny conversation, ready to announce your plan. A plan that will surely distract you and them to the point all of you will have the best of fun. “After you’ve switched, how about you turn your butts towards me? You’re doing a fantastic job, I want to return the favor.”

They lock eyes, then look at you and nod. Sullyoon has this grin on her lips, as if she can’t wait for your fingers and tongue on her labia. Minju, again, might look quite abashed, but she is quicker than Sullyoon when it comes to showing you her behind. The sight of her bare ass, tiny pink pussy and thighs spilling out of black stockings has you drooling, almost neglecting Sullyoon’s equally remarkable offer.

Sadly, you only have one tongue and so you dive into Minju’s cunt first. In what has to be the most mind-melting moment in her life, the beautiful girl sucks in your addictive taste while for the first time, someone touches her virgin sex. Minju moans around your length while you lick all the way from her clit to her asshole in long quick swipes. You watch her body tremble and decide to put an arm around it so she doesn’t sway away from your mouth, which digs into her sensitive folds.

Speaking of sensitive folds, your other hand has found more of those. Sullyoon’s innie, beautifully smooth, spills wetness forth and guides you to the well-lubricated entrance. You don’t even have to see anything to slip your middle finger inside her. Sullyoon gasps and nuzzles her soft cheek against your balls, while a little bit higher, Minju has lost all shame.

“Yummy, yummy,” she babbles every half second when your cock leaves her mouth. The two of you seem to share the same thought: These perverted fluids are delicious, I better get as much as I can.

In your mutual delight, Sullyoon momentarily rips you out of it, just to make things even better. She bunches up Minju’s hair in a hand and starts to put her lips on Minju’s. Their tongues battle, luckily your tip is there to separate them, though it does not want peace: it wants all out war.

For this brilliant idea, you decide to switch and bury your face in Sullyoon’s ass then quickly move to her cunt and pierce it open with your wet muscle, the same muscle Minju’s twitching hole misses. She has to finish on your hand, so you decide to twirl her exposed clit in between your fingers.

The greatest trio in the world's most renowned orchestra could not compare to the harmonies your different moans produce. They are unfiltered, not played for a camera, not exaggerated—but still so loud, booming, climactic, when Sullyoon shutters. Her juices gush into your mouth, more when she leans back and presses her pussy on your face.

Minju follows quickly, almost sitting on and riding your hand as it lays there, fingers tapping upwards, against her nub. Her orgasm is not as wet, but you feel the bed shake when she cums and seemingly goes to another reality. You’re glad she physically stays, her tongue still eager at your slit—and Sullyoon is on the other side, making out with her and your cockhead.

You're incredibly hard, an iron-like rod, a tip that is purple and sensitive yet absolutely numb and only begging for what might as well be the best and final release. The thought of this ever happening again does not cross your mind, a void of nothing but pleasure. You have to give it your all now and so you buckle upwards in between their sandwiching lips and explode without warning.

“Fuuuck,” Sullyoon groans. Minju yelps, a high pitch as she still rides out her own orgasm on your palm. Your first is bombastic, a shot up in the air that rains down on their faces while the rest is equally distributed on their tender cheeks, silky lips, hot tongues. No need to mention that a lot ends up in places where the clean up will be more annoying: hair, bedsheets, even clothes have stains of white on them.

Who cares, really? Not Minju, who still laps up what leaks out of your aching, overstimulated cock. Not Sullyoon, who is out of breath and uses your thigh as a pillow. Certainly not you who literally passed out for a second and only returns because Minju sucks too strongly.

“Ouch, fuck, Min-Minju it hurts—”

“You tasht sho good, I want more.”

“Then, ahhh, get it from Sullyoon’s face, I-I don’t have anything anymore.”

Minju listens and obidies, unable to remember her shy nature when she sucks on Sullyoon’s skin to get all of your spunk off of her. Sullyoon is unfazed, mewling a bit before finding your gaze. She smirks and suddenly, the tip of her index finger touches your balls.

“You're lying,” she whispers. “You have at least one more in you.”

“I-I don’t think so.” Shake your head to emphasize your words, but Sullyoon emphasizes her belief more thoroughly by pumping from your base up. Slow strokes to keep the pressure in it, she makes sure to keep her mouth a literal breath away, a hot breath that takes your breath away. Your eyelids shutter.

“Are you sure he can keep going?” Minju cutely asks, the final remnants of cum she collected from Sullyoon’s forehead on her finger which she promptly puts in her mouth and cleans thoroughly. “I could really go for another.”

“Don’t you want him to take your virginity?” Sullyoon’s question somehow has the blush return to Minju’s ears, she turns around abashed. It’s unbelievable: a second ago, she was the biggest cumslut, now she is afraid of what feels like a logical next step if it weren’t for…

“We can’t, Sully,” you say and reach for both their heads and pat them. “Not going to do it if we don’t have condoms, and maybe we should take some time? This is all a bit—”

“Crazy?” Sullyoon climbs off the bed and searches through her backpack, to the confusion of both you and Minju. It takes her a while to find what she is looking for, so you enjoy seeing her ass in the squatting position. “Is it crazy that I have these?”

She throws you a pack of condoms. You blink.

“Is it crazy that I want you to take my virginity tonight?” Sullyoon sneaks back like a predator, adorable looking, dangerously feeling up your thigh to your once again hard length. You don’t let her have her way, grab her wrists and look at Minju.

“You are crazy. Look in whose bed we are! Minju, what do—”

“I-I’m fine with it!” Minju cups her cheeks and her gaze can’t fix on either your or Sullyoon’s face. “I can give you privacy, if you want.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sullyoon laughs. “You should join us. I’d let you go first, if you want.” She licks her lips and even with her arms being held down by you, she gets her flat tummy to rub on your manhood, close to her heat which you can no longer resist.

“I’ll get some water, you… do you.” Minju’s words are hastily spoken, her sentence finished when she is already out of the door. This settles it for you. You’re going to fuck Sullyoon; her first time is yours and the way she rips open the wrapping of the first condom leaves no doubt in your mind:

This girl loves you and wants you now.

“How do you want it?” you ask and roll the thin, barely-there rubber down your cock.

“I want you to push in me, push my body into the bed, slowly at first. Be careful until I tell you to go faster. Fuck me, hug me, do it so good and hard that I forget that there was ever a time where you didn’t love me.”

“Sounds—

Let go of her wrists and Sullyoon lets her amazing body fall into the cushions. Her lewd expression shifts; nervousness, only a little, seriousness, a little more—thrill, endless amounts of thrill. The same counts for you.

“—good. Spread your legs for me, Sullyoon. Breathe and relax.”

Those wonderful legs not only spread for you, they actually wrap around you, their smoothness suddenly suffocating and now it’s you who needs to breathe. Your cock slips into her so easily, your tip parts her, enters and if it weren’t for her wince you would’ve gone hilt deep right away. Sullyoon’s eagerness momentarily comes to a halt as she realizes that you are a bit different from her toys.

“Wow,” she mumbles mindlessly. “You’re so wide and hard and warm—nothing like a… a…”

“Like a dildo?” you tease her and gradually drag your tip along her walls and then out of the blissful heat. Her legs make sure to push you back in and now she is even tighter. Sullyoon wants you to stay, you can’t leave without your permission. “Tell me when it hurts.”

“Actually—”

Her digits find your nape and pull you down to where her lips pucker.

“—I want you to hammer your cock into me now. Mold my pussy in its shape. Hold back only if I say stop.”

“Got it.” Kiss her lips. “I love you, Sully.”

Sometimes, you need to let go and let the reckless abandon of lust take over your body. Your hips become a tool for pleasure, as they gyrate, then move back and forth to bury your length deeper in Sullyoon’s cunt. Then you copy and paste their movements and repeatedly do them with your tongue as well to the point your new girlfriend desperately clings to you. It’s not only the sweat that sticks to you; her entire being keeps you glued down.

You pump, pump, pump into Sullyoon until you notice her eyes rolling back into her head whenever you hit that spot. The sweet spot that will eventually make her cum. Good thing that you already blew a load and that all your sensitivity has subsided—it gives you the power that makes you feel like a superhero, a superhuman. You will not stop at anything, you want to make her cum with just your dick and so you have to fuck harder.

“Oh God, you’re so big, so fucking big and perfect,” Sullyoon moans. As a thank you, you place a hickey somewhere on her neck. In hindsight, a bad idea. All your classmates will see it, unless she wears turtlenecks from now on. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, you’re so good.”

“Your pussy, Sully, it’s, it’s so tight. You’re choking me.”

“Spread me open more then, fuck, fuck, I want you to make me full.”

Hidden from the world, you place a hand on Sullyoon’s abdomen. Not to touch that tummy that alone can make boys fall instantly, though it feels nice to rub your fingers across it—no, your goal is further down, right above where your cock pounds into that wet cunt. Talk about wet, Sullyoon’s juices have spread everywhere, Minju will smell her friend in this room for days to come.

And talk about Minju: she has just returned, a huge bottle of water in her hand and eyes wide open. There is no shock at the sight of Sullyoon moaning and bending under the never ending attack of your hands, tongue and of course cock. Minju is more fascinated than anything else, you know she could watch for hours if only you didn’t notice her.

“Oh, hey,” you gasp in between groans, but your greeting is cut short by Sullyoon’s deafening scream.

“Minju, Minju, oh fuck, you have to try this. He is so good~

“Yes! My clit, right there! Oh my God, I’m going to cum, you make me c-cum!”

Sullyoon pulsates throughout her pussy, her arms, her fingers. Those pointy nails of hers dig painful bruises in your back while your blurry gaze tries to make out her face in haze, but all you see is the shape of her mouth being agape. She’s suddenly so quiet, except for her pussy, which tries to start your own orgasm. You won’t give it to her, not when Minju stands there, her stocking-clad thighs rubbing together, visibly stained with her nectar.

“You guys…” she whispers and watches closely as you pull out of Sullyoon and wipe away some beads of sweat that have formed on your temple. You’re not a construction worker, but your work was hard and it paid off: Sullyoon could not be closer to heaven above the clouds, no skyscraper or airplane can take her there.

“Can I have some of that?” you weakly ask and point at the water bottle. You’re quick to squeeze out a huge portion when Minju hands you the plastic container. From the corner of your eye you see Sullyoon, back from her crazy trip and you offer her some of the water. She rejects and suddenly, full of energy, jumps up and behind Minju.

“Minju, you have to try it.” Minju shrieks when Sullyoon places her hands on the hourglass body. “He feels amazing, I know you will love it.” All her fingers carelessly drift down to where Minju’s full thighs spill out of hr black thigh-highs.

“B-but didn’t he, like, fi-finish in you? He must be exhausted.” Minju’s excuse is met with a scoff from Sullyoon.

“Look at that thing.” Sullyoon points in between your legs. That’s right, you’re still solid and throbbing, aching to go for more. “He is a stud, he can go forever. He will make you cum on your first time, Minju~”

“I-I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to listen to her,” you tell Minju and take another sip from the bottle. “We can do something else if you don’t feel ready yet.”

Your words might be honest, but Minju does not get a fair chance to consider this other option. In front of her sits her crush, a guy with a big, super tasty cock. Behind her is a friend, mind controlled by lust, eager to share this big, super tasty cock. The sight of you teases her, Sullyoon’s hands on her hips, butt, crotch tease her. Can she really go for it now? Make this crazy night become nothing but madness, a story worth telling but no one will ever hear it?

“I want… you inside of me.”

“Perf—”

“I want you to cum inside of me!”

You gulp, thoughts tripping over each other. Even Sullyoon is perplexed and frozen. “R-really?” you both ask the still-virgin girl.

“No, like, in-in a condom of course! I just want to know… that my pussy felt good for you, that I can make you cum. I don’t want to get pregnant yet of course—oh God, did you think that?”

“Well…”

“Doesn’t matter!” Sullyoon suddenly laughs this chaotic misunderstanding off and pushes Minju on your lap. “Here, Minju, put a new condom on his cock. We don’t do creampies, but I totally get what you want.”

“I’m so sorry, that was a stupid thing to say,” Minju apologizes awkwardly, but you quickly forget about it when she expertly puts the rubber on your tip and has your entire phallus covered in no time. Her dainty fingers feel fantastic on your base, which she holds steady, awaiting you to do something with it. You can’t make up your mind however: should you pick her up and throw her into the sheets to fuck her like Sullyoon? Maybe spin her around and fuck her doggy, ass up, that beautiful face buried in pillows as you burry yourself inside her for the first time?

Sullyoon helps you come up with a third solution. She grabs your wrists and firmly puts them on Minju’s tiny waist and instinctively, you lift her up and over your cock. Minju looks down at your manhood and mewls, ready yet not ready to take it. Her starlit eyes, a few centimeters away, look down into yours and you swear you don’t want to hurt. You have to do everything to make this the best thing for her.

Give Minju a firm kiss on her trembling lips as both you and Sullyoon gently place her entrance on your spear. At first, she is scared, her body tensing up, but with your warmth radiating on her warm folds, she suddenly seems eager. More and more inches disappear into her and you leave her lips to hear her ultimate moan when her virginity disappears.

“Ouh, so big, so much, ahhh!”

“Does it hurt?” you ask her.

“A-a bit, but it’s fine—Sullyoon, what are you doing!? Don’t look at it!”

Sullyoon kneels between your legs. When she breathes out through her nose, your balls feel her hot and horny breath. She completely ignores Minju’s words and stares at how you leave and re-enter Minju’s pussy. “Minju, this… this is the best sight! Trust me, it feels good when he goes faster. Your pussy will feel so good.”

“This is embarrassing,” Minju mewls again, her hips firmly pushed down on your lap, almost the entirety of your cock inside her. You might not feel powerless in this position, not at all in fact, but you want this absolute beauty of a woman to do how she likes it. If she just wants to sit on you and slowly move her lower body in circles, that’s fine, if she wants to ride you with heavy thrusts, that would be to die for—

But Minju unexpectedly picks a third option. Seriously, these girls are full of surprises. She puts her hands on your shoulders while yours instinctively hover down to her hips and then she tightens around your cock again before moving up and down, up and down, up and down with perfect body control, at the same pace.

Minju rides you, fucks you, like she has done it a thousand times. You can hardly believe she never had a toy inside her. Every breath becomes more chaotic, her features disheveled, her tongue numb. It hangs out of her mouth, a perfectly ripe weak spot for you to attack. You suck on it, bully it in your mouth and Minju grabs your throat, accidentally choking you. No, no, she has to keep doing that. She has to suffocate you, with her pussy, with her fingers, with her stunning visuals as she fucks herself silly.

“Sullyoon, fuck,” you both simultaneously curse when the forgotten girl starts to lick all the way from your perineum over to your cock and Minju’s folds to Minju’s butthole, then back down, as if it were the longest, tastiest lollipop. She is not irritated by all the sweat, the lewd juices and Minju’s ass bouncing on your dick—Sullyoon laps it all up and even giggles when she hears both of you struggle with the added pleasure.

Minju gradually loses speed, which is of course not bad, after all, her cunt still tries to suck your Sullyoon-kissed balls dry, but you notice how completely out of breath and overstimulated she seems. With unfocused puppy eyes she tries to apologize for her lack of stamina, but instead of lamenting, you find a quick solution—a solution that sends Minju straight into her first ever crazy orgasm.

Hock your arms underneath her legs, securely hold her and stand up. Sullyoon gasps in surprise, her tongue still in Minju’s ass, which suddenly shakes when you start to fuck. Minju screams in bliss, covers your crotch in girl cum as you lose your grip on reality but never your grip on her hips. Minju can barely hold onto your nape as you pound her and send orgasm after orgasm into her.

“Ahhh, oh my God, it’s, it’s coming again!”

She deserves so many more so you steady your feet and thrust upwards harder, faster, gape her cunt wide open, all for Sullyoon to see. She remembers that you speared her open in a similar way, your cock hard and reckless. She starts to touch herself while sucking on whatever part of your base isn’t currently inside Minju. In the meantime, Minju’s stockings burn themselves in your memory. She always has to wear them, they look so hot, seductive, like they were made to cover her legs.

“So big, too much, too much, I—”

Minju explodes again. This time her ability to speak is replaced by mindless moans, which sound a bit silly through her constantly cracking voice. You look down and admire the ripple of her thighs, the way her small tits bounce up and down. Her hot cunt feels ready for a load, a load it will not directly receive unfortunately.

Unfortunately? No, it’s good! You can’t risk getting Minju pregnant, that would be insane.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you groan.

“Let me help you~” Sullyoon’s lewd voice and even lewder lips push you over the edge as she puts your balls in her mouth and sucks on them loudly. The added pressure makes you unload into the condom, testing its durability. Luckily it passes the test and Minju still gets to have that feeling of hotness inside her.

She smiles weakly, but cannot really react. Her body goes limp in your arms as you slip out of her wide open hole. You carefully drop her onto the bed, a bed that you definitely need too now. Soft sheets to finally rest in after this night of projects and—other projects so to say.

“Fuck that was insane. What’s going to happen now?” you ask no one in particular. Minju is already gone, deep in a dream.

“What do you think?” Sullyoon suddenly says and lays next to you in bed, her fingers pulling away the condom. When she sees the ridiculous amount of cum still covering your dick, she is quick to clean it up with her tongue. It seems that she is just as addicted to your taste as Minju.

“Fuck, Sully—”

“We have to do this every week.”

“Wh-what?”

“Aren’t we your girlfriends now? Don’t you want this—

“To happen again~?”

Yes, they are your girlfriends now—and yes: you have fallen for them.

Who could blame you?

[strawberrystepmom]

gojo x f!reader are married. he refers to readers breasts and makes a lewd joke. divider by cafekitsune my most beloved | wc 822

“That one looks like you.”

Squeezing Satoru’s bicep where your hand rests against it, arm looped through his, you giggle and shake your head. The statue in front of you is flesh made marble, a woman with thighs that maybe on a really good day resemble yours so painstakingly crafted that crowds gather to see her. She’s beautiful, a depiction of a goddess from fables you are both vaguely familiar with.

Is this really how he sees you? It makes those same butterflies he always manages to create stir in your belly and you wrinkle your nose, taking a peek up at him but looking away to admire the beauty depicted in front of you.

“You’ve already charmed me, Satoru. You don’t have to tell tall tales.” His gaze shifts from the sculpture to you, something you can feel rather than witness. He scoffs and tilts his head, shifting from standing beside you to in front of you, arms still linked together.

 “You always say that when I compliment you. Why?”

Laughing, you reach to pinch his side with your freehand and he dodges just in the nick of time. It’s preventative, he always giggles and causes a scene when you touch the tender ticklish spot right at his hip bone, and a museum in another country on a trip the two of you had to bend your schedules to go on is not the place to have a tickle fight. He traps your hand in his and deposits it at your side with a smug half smile.

“Let’s not get into it right now. I’ll just say thank you for the compliment and we can move on.”

Never one to take being put off gracefully, he crowds against you until there is zero space between your bodies. You worry about the PDA being seen as offensive or too much and glance around the mostly empty on a weekday museum where everyone else is fairly ignorant of your existence. It’s just the two of you, as always and not just in your head this time. Smiling, you let him embrace you and rest his balled hands against the small of your back, your entire body leaning into his side.

“You know, I’d have a house full of sculptures and paintings of you just like that if you’d let me,” he mumbles under his breath to bait you. You laugh aloud, pressing your cheek to his arm. “What, nude?” He sticks his tongue out of the corner of his mouth and raises his eyebrows over the tops of his sunglasses. “Obviously. Or clothed or in a gown or in water or tangled in our bed sheets.” 

Pausing to take a breath, he’s surprised to see you already looking up at him when he gazes down at you. He wishes he could capture this with more than just his eyes, his phone and heart. He has painted you before and would create a thousand more odes to his beauty if he had more time on his hands and you’d let him. You’re so eager to disbelieve your own beauty, you haven’t sat to be painted by him in years. 

Satoru makes a mental note to rectify that as soon as the two of you get home but continues to speak now that he has your undivided attention, smirking, all dimples and mischief and the things you love the most about him, the tenderness in your glance a reflection of how you feel.

“I’m just saying. I’m sure I could find some sculptor to carve my pretty wife and would do those,” he glances down at your chest and you roll your eyes half-heartedly, still wearing the smile he put on your face with his casual comparison of your likeness to that of a goddess. “The artistic justice they deserve.”

Despite the tongue in cheek joking, he can be such a romantic when he wants to be. You kind of feel he’s laying it on a little thick because you’re on vacation but what’s the harm in having fun when it is luxuriously just the two of you, the rarity that it is?

Smiling up at him, you offer a better solution.

“Maybe they can sculpt both of us. We can see if they’ll do that,” you subtly reach down and pat just below his belt buckle before he can swat at your hand or turn on his Infinity to keep you away, pulling your hand away as quickly as you can. “Some justice too.”

Now that’s an idea he appears to like, his smirk sliding into a full smile. You pat his arm and separate yourself from him, only to be met with a whine. You reach behind you and grab his hand, fingers intertwining as naturally as they always do, pulling him along with you.

“Now let me show you which one reminds me of you,” you tease him, smiling over your shoulder. 

[callmemonster68]

throne of shadows - part 1 | p.sh - sunghoon

He was born in captivity, she was born at the top of the world. He was shaped to serve, she to rule.

paring: sunghoon x fem!reader 18+ | masterlist

wc: 7,320

warnings: nsfw, unprotected sex, crying, gore, blood

Mentions of murder, blood, self-harm. Read at your own risk.

Sunghoon, a mutant of incomparable beauty, possessed enormous black wings. He was sold as a baby to a very rich man who collected the most beautiful and unique mutants and displayed them in his luxurious museum. This rich man was perverse and very evil. Besides the exposure, he also allowed the wealthiest clients to pay and use the mutants sexually. Sunghoon never knew freedom and did not understand feelings; he never felt love, affection, pleasure, or any other good feeling.

Y/N was a beautiful and wealthy woman, she had recently married a man, Jaemin, who was a bit older than her, he was handsome, rich, and very successful, he had always been in love with her, but to her, he was nothing more than a deal. They were both heirs to extremely wealthy families, and by marrying, they doubled their fortune. He begged her to allow herself to like him, to let him win her over, to let him touch her, to make her happy, but she always denied him anything. Sleeping in separate rooms since the wedding.

Jaemin didn't know what else to do to please her, so one day he decided to visit the museum of sublime mutants. He thought that maybe something like that would make her grateful to him, and perhaps she would see him in a different light. It was then that he arrived in front of Sunghoon's display case. When he saw his wings, he felt a shiver run through his body. He knew how much Y/N liked dark, beautiful things; he knew she would love this. He went to the owner and made an irresistible offer. He succeeded; he bought it.

When he got home, Y/N wasn't there, so he prepared everything. He explained to Sunghoon that from then on he would belong to Y/N and should do everything she wanted. He put a collar on him, which controlled him, with a remote. If he got out of control, Y/N could press the button and then he would feel immense pain that would paralyze him. He took him to Y/N's room, helped him take a shower, dressed him in only black pants, and ordered him to sit on the bed until Y/N arrived.

The door opened slowly, and Y/N entered the room, throwing her bag onto an armchair without paying attention to anything. She paused for a second upon noticing the motionless figure on the bed.

Her eyes analyzed the sculptural body of the man in front of her. The black wings folded behind him, the feathers shining in the dim light of the room. The collar around his neck gave a perverse contrast to the scene.

Y/N: What the hell is this? (her voice sounded cold and irritated)

Sunghoon lifted his head, his black eyes meeting hers. He quickly lowered his gaze, not daring to look at her for too long.

Sunghoon: I am yours. (his voice was soft, obedient) I will belong to you, I will do everything you want.

She frowned and looked around, as if expecting Jaemin to appear and say it was all a joke. 

But there was no one. Just her and the mutant of supernatural beauty, sitting patiently waiting for his owner.

Y/N: Did Jaemin do that? (asked, exasperated)

Sunghoon: Yes. He brought me to you. (he tilted his head, like a dog waiting for a command) If I displease you, I can be punished. But... I want to please her. I need to please her.

There was something in the way he said that which bothered her. A blind devotion, not out of passion, but due to the lack of any other reference. As if he were incapable of existing without serving someone.

She approached slowly, stopping in front of him. With a finger, she lifted Sunghoon's chin, forcing him to look at her.

Y/N: Do you have a name?

Sunghoon: Sunghoon. But if you want to call me something else, I will accept it.

Y/N: Hm. (She released his face and crossed her arms) So, Sunghoon, what exactly do you do?

He hesitated for a moment, then replied:

Sunghoon: Anything you want.

The silence weighed heavily between the two of them. Y/N took a deep breath and looked at the remote on the bedside table. One single button and he would be writhing in pain.

She took the remote and twirled it between her fingers.

Y/N: You're here because Jaemin thinks he can buy me with a pretty toy. (Her voice was harsh, but there was no fun in it) You are aware of that, right?

Sunghoon: If that makes you happy, then it's fine. (the response was immediate, without hesitation)

Y/N pressed their lips together. Sunghoon seemed so... empty. But there was something there, behind those black eyes. Something broken.

And she never resisted broken things.

YN: Take off the wings. (your order was a test)

Sunghoon hesitated for a moment, then lowered his head. The wings folded and disappeared, as if they had never existed.

Y/N observed in silence. Then, she walked over to the bed and sat down beside him.

Y/N: Speak.

Sunghoon: About what?

Y/N: About you.

Sunghoon blinked, as if he didn't understand the order.

Sunghoon: I... don't know what to say.

She let out a nasal laugh.

Y/N: Of course not.

Sunghoon knew nothing but serving. He didn't know what desire, freedom, or even the meaning of touch that wasn't imposed was.

But he would learn.

The silence lingered between them. Sunghoon maintained an immobile posture, his eyes fixed on the woman beside him, awaiting the next command like a trained soldier.

Y/N ran their tongue over their lips, watching him closely.

Y/N: Do you really not feel anything? (he/she asked, with a slight hint of curiosity)

Sunghoon: I feel what they teach me to feel (he replied without hesitation)

Y/N: And what did they teach you?

Sunghoon lowered his eyes.

Sunghoon: To obey. Not to question. To be available.

There was something devastating in the way he said that, as if there was nothing strange or cruel about that reality. As if it were natural.

Y/N let out a sigh and leaned back, resting on their elbows.

Y/N: And if I tell you that I don't want a servant?

Sunghoon blinked, his lips slightly parting as if that were an impossible concept to process.

Sunghoon: But... I am yours.

She laughed, a low, almost cynical laugh.

Y/N: You don't even know what that means.

He remained silent, but Y/N noticed the slight tension in his shoulders. Something in her wanted to test him. Tease him.

She slid the tips of her fingers over his chest, feeling the muscles contract under her touch. 

Sunghoon didn't even move, but his breathing became deeper.

Y/N: Tell me, Sunghoon… (she leaned her face close to his, whispering) What do you want?

He blinked a few times, confused.

Sunghoon: What do I... want?

Y/N: Yes. Has anyone ever asked you that?

He shook his head slowly.

Sunghoon: No.

Y/N smiled slightly, but it wasn't a smile of amusement. It was something colder, sharper.

Y/N: So think about it. And when you know the answer, tell me.

She got up and took the collar control, spinning it between her fingers before dropping it on the bedside table.

Y/N: You can sleep on the floor, in the armchair, or in the bed. Choose.

Sunghoon watched her for a moment before bowing his head in submission.

Sunghoon: If I say I want to sleep at your feet, would that make you happy?

Y/N felt a shiver run down their spine.

He didn't know what desire was, but he was trying to understand.

And that could be dangerous.

Y/N remained silent for a moment, observing Sunghoon. There was something perverse in his blind devotion, something that made her want to test him, to push him beyond that brutal conditioning that had turned him into a submissive being.

She approached again, leaning slightly towards him.

Y/N: Do you want to sleep at my feet?

Sunghoon nodded, his black eyes shining under the dim light of the room.

Sunghoon: If that pleases you, yes.

She laughed softly, a sound that sent a shiver down his spine.

Y/N: You are so used to pleasing others, Sunghoon... but can you handle what I want?

He remained silent, his eyes fixed on hers. He didn't understand, but he wanted to understand.

Y/N extended her hand and pulled the collar chain, forcing him to come closer. Sunghoon didn't resist, his lips parting slightly when he felt her breath so close.

Y/N: I could test you in so many ways... (she slid her fingers along his jawline, feeling it tremble slightly under her touch) But are you ready for this?

His eyes blinked rapidly, as if trying to process.

Sunghoon: I want to be everything you need.

Y/N felt a strange excitement coursing through their body. It was not just carnal desire — it was the power of having someone so beautiful, so perfect, so devoted in your hands.

She leaned in even closer, the tip of her nose brushing against his cheek.

Y/N: Open your mouth.

Sunghoon obeyed at that very moment, breathing heavily, his eyes half-closed.

Y/N ran their thumb over his lips, feeling the warmth and softness.

Y/N: Good answer. (her voice came out low, provocative)

Sunghoon shuddered. He didn't understand why his body reacted like that. He had never felt heat before. I had never felt my chest tighten like that before.

Y/N: You are trembling, Sunghoon. (Y/N noticed and smiled)

Sunghoon: I... don't know what this is.

She pressed her finger against his tongue, slowly, testing his reaction. Sunghoon let out a soft gasp, his eyes fixed on hers as if he were being consumed.

Y/N: That's right, Sunghoon... (she whispered against his lips, without kissing him) Learn to feel.

The days passed, and Sunghoon became a shadow of Y/N. He followed her silently through the mansion's corridors, patiently waiting by the bathtub while she bathed, and slept on the floor next to her bed, even when she insisted he choose a more comfortable place.

He didn't know how to explain that. He only knew that he needed to be close to her.

Y/N: You are addicted to me, Sunghoon.

She whispered one night, as she ran her fingers through his hair, feeling him shiver at the mere touch.

Sunghoon: If that means I want to be by your side all the time... then yes.

Y/N felt a warmth rise through her body. She wanted to take him for herself, wanted to feel his skin against hers, wanted to possess him in every possible way. But she wasn't a monster. She didn't just want an obedient body, without its own will.

She needed to know if he desired her in the same way.

That's why, a few days later, she decided to ask Jaemin some questions.

Y/N: Where did he come from?

Jaemin frowned upon hearing the sudden question.

Jaemin: Sunghoon? Why do you want to know?

Y/N: Just answer.

He sighed, leaning back in the chair.

Jaemin: I bought it at the museum of sublime mutants. It was the most valuable of all.

Y/N's blood ran cold.

She knew that place. She knew it wasn't an ordinary museum.

That night, while Sunghoon slept beside the bed, she took the car keys and drove to the museum.

The owner of the place greeted her with a smile full of arrogance.

Owner: Are you the new owner of the celestial mutant? A rare specimen. It was a difficult sale to make.

Y/N held back to avoid showing the anger that was beginning to grow inside her.

Y/N: I want to know where he came from.

The man chuckled softly, taking a sip of wine before responding.

Owner: He was sold to me as a baby. Never knew another reality. Trained to be... pleasant.

The way he said that made Y/N's stomach turn.

Y/N: You exposed him like a display piece. (her voice came out sharp)

The man shrugged.

Owner: I give people what they want to see. Some like to just admire the beauty... others want a little more than that.

Her fists clenched.

Y/N: Was he... used?

The man raised an eyebrow, pretending to be surprised.

Owner: Ah, my lady... Do you really want to know the answer?

It was enough for her to feel a blind rage take over her.

She left there with her breath uneven, her heart pounding in her chest.

Now everything made sense. The devotion, the silent fear of displeasing, the way he never asked for anything for himself.

He was never allowed to want anything.

When she returned home, Sunghoon was waiting for her at the bedroom door.

He approached, as he always did, and held her hand gently, pressing it against his bare chest.

Sunghoon: Your heart is racing (he murmured, confused)

Y/N looked at him, at his absurd beauty, at the eyes that didn't know what freedom was.

She felt anger. But, above all, she felt pity.

And he realized he would do anything to fix it.

The silence weighed heavily between them.

Y/N still felt the blood boiling inside them. Every time she looked at Sunghoon, his immaculate beauty, his submissive and naive eyes, the anger returned like a wave. They had deprived him of everything. Of choices, of desires, of a real life.

She couldn't stand it.

Y/N: Sunghoon… (her voice came out softer than she expected) I will set you free.

He tilted his head, his black eyes shining in the dim light of the room.

Sunghoon: What does this mean?

Y/N felt a tightness in their chest. How to explain something so fundamental to someone who has never even had the notion of what it was like to be free?

She took a deep breath, trying to find the right words.

Y/N: It means that you will be able to choose whatever you want. That no one will be able to control you, hold you back, or tell you what to do. You will be able to go wherever you want...

Sunghoon kept looking at her, without blinking.

Sunghoon: What if I want to be with you?

Y/N felt their heart leap in their chest.

Y/N: If that's your choice, then... (she hesitated, feeling the intensity of his gaze) Then you could stay. But, for the first time, because you wanted to.

His expression didn't change. But something shone in his eyes, something intense and uncontrollable.

He stepped forward, closing the distance between them, and held Y/N's hand gently.

Sunghoon: If freedom means being without you... then I don't want it.

Her heart stopped for a second.

He was speaking with a terrifying certainty. As if freedom were worth nothing if it meant he couldn't be by her side.

Y/N: Sunghoon… (Y/N felt their breath hitch) You don't understand.

He knelt before her, pressing his forehead against her belly.

Sunghoon: I understand enough. (his voice sounded low, like a prayer) You are everything I know. And everything I want to know.

She closed her eyes, feeling her body burn with frustration and desire.

He didn't know what love was. He didn't know what it was to want someone the right way. 

But I was learning.

And that scared her more than anything else.

Y/N felt Sunghoon's fingers tighten around her waist, the hesitant touch, almost as if he were afraid she would disappear if he didn't hold her tightly.

Y/N: Sunghoon… (she whispered, her eyes fixed on him) You only say that because you've never had another option.

He raised his head, his black eyes sparkling in confusion.

Sunghoon: But I don't want another option.

Y/N closed their eyes for a moment, feeling their breath tremble. He didn't understand. How could he? He never knew what it was like to have a real choice. He never knew what it was like to desire something of his own free will.

And her?

She always had choices. And, at that moment, everything inside her screamed for her to choose him.

But would that be right?

She ran her fingers over Sunghoon's face, feeling the cold and flawless skin under her touch. He instinctively leaned into her hand, his eyes half-closed, as if that gesture were enough to make him crumble.

Y/N: You want to be with me because you've never had anything but pain and submission (she said, her voice heavy with emotion) I don't want to be just another person who keeps you trapped.

Sunghoon: You don't keep me trapped. (his voice came out firm, without hesitation) You are the only thing that makes me feel... something.

Y/N bit their lip, stifling a trembling sigh.

Y/N: What do you feel when you're with me?

Sunghoon blinked slowly, as if he were searching for the answer within himself.

Sunghoon: I don't know the name. But it's hot. Strong. (he slid his fingers along the hem of her dress, hesitantly) As if I needed to touch you to keep breathing.

The air between them became thick, heavy.

Y/N felt their body burn.

She wanted that. She wanted to touch him. I wanted to feel his breath against my skin. I wanted to know if what he felt was real or just a conditioned response to the desire to please her.

But...

Y/N: You don't know what you're feeling.

He furrowed his brow, the wings moving slightly behind him.

Sunghoon: So teach me.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Y/N: Sunghoon…

Sunghoon: You said that freedom is being able to choose. (he moved closer, their lips almost touching) I choose you.

Y/N's body responded before her mind. She leaned towards him, her fingers sliding over the collar-marked neck.

She wanted to believe that it was a choice.

I wanted to believe that he wanted her the same way she wanted him.

But did he really understand?

And could she resist the idea of taking him for herself?

The days went by, and Sunghoon became an extension of Y/N.

He no longer stayed in the room, waiting for orders. Now, he followed her everywhere, like a silent shadow. At the lavish dinners, where the powerful exchanged false smiles and toasts full of ulterior motives, Sunghoon was by her side, observing everything with curious eyes. 

On the morning walks through the garden, he smelled the flowers and asked Y/N why some people smiled only with their lips, but never with their eyes.

She taught him every day.

Y/N: This is called a lie (they explained once, running the tips of their fingers over his wrist) People lie all the time. For others and for themselves.

He frowned, holding her hand between his.

Sunghoon: Do you lie to me?

Y/N held their breath.

Y/N: I... (she hesitated) I never want to lie to you, Sunghoon.

He smiled, satisfied with the answer.

But Jaemin was not satisfied.

He observed everything from afar, his gaze growing increasingly dark as he watched 

Sunghoon claim a space that had never been his.

Before, Y/N wouldn't even let him touch her.

Now, that mutant was by her side all the time, receiving the looks and smiles that Jaemin had spent years begging for.

And then, that night, everything fell apart.

He saw them.

It was late, and the mansion's hall was empty. Jaemin was descending the stairs when he abruptly stopped upon seeing a scene that made his blood boil.

Y/N was leaning against one of the marble columns, her fingers gently sliding over Sunghoon's face.

He held her waist, his gaze filled with something Jaemin had never seen before. Something raw. Something human.

And then it happened.

Sunghoon leaned in, hesitating at first, but soon gathered his courage, pressing his lips against hers.

The first kiss.

Not a rehearsed kiss.

Not an ordered kiss.

But a genuine kiss.

Jaemin felt something break inside him.

The fury took over his body like an uncontrollable flame. He clenched his fists and felt his nails dig into his own skin.

That couldn't go on.

Sunghoon needed to be reminded of who he was.

And, above all, of whom he could never have.

The anger burned in Jaemin like a corrosive poison.

He couldn't erase the scene from his mind: Sunghoon holding Y/N as if he had some right over her. As if he were a real man and not a purchased object. As if that kiss meant something beyond a stupid illusion.

No.

This needed to end.

That same night, when Y/N went to take a shower, Jaemin found Sunghoon alone in the room. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, with a calm expression and perfect posture, as if he belonged there. As if he had completely forgotten where he came from.

Great. He would make a point of reminding him.

Jaemin: Stand up. (Jaemin ordered, his voice low and dangerous)

Sunghoon slowly raised his eyes. Something inside them shone... Confidence? Challenge?

Jaemin gritted his teeth.

Jaemin: I said... standing up.

This time, Sunghoon obeyed. But something in the way he moved made Jaemin want to destroy him. The way he didn't lower his head. The way he seemed to believe he belonged to Y/N.

Jaemin: You forgot what it is, didn't you? (Jaemin laughed, coldly) Do you think you're more than a pet now?

Sunghoon didn't answer. But there was something in the way he stood still, as if he were waiting.

Jaemin: You need to remember (Jaemin murmured, getting closer until he was just a few centimeters away) And I will make sure that happens.

Before Sunghoon could react, Jaemin grabbed the collar around his neck and pressed the button on the remote.

The scream that tore through Sunghoon's throat was dry and desperate.

He fell to his knees at that very moment, his hands gripping the collar as his body convulsed with unbearable pain. The shock burned inside, destroying any strength he had.

Jaemin crouched down beside him, gripping his face roughly.

Jaemin: You should never have touched her.

Sunghoon gasped, his chest rising and falling with difficulty. His eyes were cloudy, but even amidst the pain, he didn't break. He didn't cry.

And that just made Jaemin press the button again.

Sunghoon's scream echoed through the mansion.

But Jaemin didn't mind.

He just smiled.

Y/N knew something was wrong the moment they opened the bedroom door.

The metallic smell in the air. The absence of any sound.

So, she saw.

Sunghoon was on the ground, his knees bent, his chest heaving as if each breath were a struggle. His arms trembled, and his hands were clenched around the collar's collar, as if he were trying to tear it off by force. The face, once serene and submissive, was pale, sweaty.

And then, slowly, he raised his eyes to her.

Y/N held their breath.

Sunghoon's eyes were... different. The submission was still there, but now there was something else. Something broken. Something desperate.

Y/N: Sunghoon… (her voice almost faltered when saying his name)

He opened his mouth to speak, but before any words came out, Jaemin appeared at the door behind her, adjusting the sleeves of his jacket with a satisfied smile.

Jaemin: You should teach your pet not to take what isn't theirs. (Jaemin said casually, as if he were talking about something trivial)

Y/N's body froze.

Y/N: What did you do?

Jaemin raised an eyebrow, amused.

Jaemin: What was necessary.

Y/N's chest rose and fell quickly. Her gaze returned to Sunghoon, who was still kneeling, his lips slightly parted, his eyes fixed on her as if she were the only thing keeping him there.

She knelt beside him, her fingers trembling as they touched his face.

He didn't move away.

He never stayed away.

But at that moment, Y/N saw something in his eyes that had never been there before.

Fear.

And it was as if something inside her broke too.

She looked at Jaemin, her hands tightly around Sunghoon.

Y/N: I swear (her voice came out low, filled with hatred) that you will regret this.

Jaemin laughed, shaking his head.

Jaemin: You talk as if you have power over something. As if he were yours.

Y/N felt Sunghoon's muscles tense under their touch. He was trembling.

She ran her hand through her hair, feeling a painful tightness in her chest.

Y/N: He is mine.

The words came out without her realizing, but upon saying them, she knew they were true.

Sunghoon closed his eyes for a moment, as if those words were all he needed to hear.

And it was there that Y/N made their decision.

She wouldn't let Jaemin touch him again.

She would free him.

The price didn't matter.

That night, Y/N didn't leave Sunghoon's side.

Ignoring any protest or look from Jaemin. He took care of him with his own hands, cleaning the cuts left by the collar, massaging the muscles stiff with pain, letting him rest his head on his lap when his body finally succumbed to exhaustion.

She ran her fingers through his dark hair, feeling her heart tighten at seeing him so vulnerable.

Y/N: I promise... (murmured against her skin) I will never let this happen again.

Sunghoon slowly opened his eyes, staring at her with that blind and devoted intensity that took her breath away.

Sunghoon: If you want this... then I believe.

He believed in her. Even after everything.

And it was there that Y/N decided.

Jaemin would pay.

The following days were silent, but full of meaning.

Y/N didn't allow Jaemin to get close to Sunghoon. She was attentive to every detail, every movement, every shadow of danger that might loom over them.

And, in the midst of it all, she was plotting.

Sunghoon started helping her without even needing explanations. He was observant, intelligent — more than Jaemin ever suspected. Each order from Y/N was followed without hesitation, each test, each small strategy.

And then, on the exact night that Y/N chose, they attacked.

Jaemin was in his office when the door slowly opened. He looked up, surprised to see Y/N standing there, alone.

She rarely went to him.

Jaemin: What happened? (he asked, swirling the whiskey glass in his hand)

She entered, her steps slow and measured.

Y/N: I need to talk.

Jaemin smiled, satisfied.

Jaemin: Finally.

He stood up, ready to approach, but before he could take a step, a shadow appeared behind him.

Fast.

Feroz.

Sunghoon.

Before Jaemin could react, Sunghoon grabbed his arms and pushed him against the table. The mutant's superhuman strength kept him immobile.

Jaemin: What the hell—?!

Jaemin shouted, but was interrupted when Y/N approached and, with steady hands, pulled something from their pocket.

The control of the collar.

Jaemin's eyes widened.

Jaemin: No.

But Y/N just smiled.

Y/N: Yes.

She pressed the button.

And then, everything happened too fast.

Sunghoon pulled the collar from his own neck, the clasp coming undone as if it had never been strong enough to hold him. Jaemin was still trying to understand what was happening when he felt the leather tighten around his throat.

The roles were reversed.

Now, it was he who was caged.

Now, it was he who was defenseless.

Y/N held the controller tightly, satisfaction shining in their eyes.

Y/N: Let's see how you handle this.

She pressed the button again.

And Jaemin fell to his knees.

Jaemin's screams echoed through the dark room.

The floor was stained with sweat, blood, and despair.

Sunghoon was next to Y/N, watching her in silence as she pressed the button on the remote again. Jaemin writhed on the floor, foam forming at the corners of his lips.

He no longer seemed like the same powerful and untouchable man.

Now, he was just a wounded animal.

And Sunghoon liked seeing him like that.

Y/N: I think he's going to faint. (in a voice heavy with coldness)

Sunghoon tilted his head, his black eyes shining under the dim light of the room.

Sunghoon: Not yet. (his voice was low, serene) Not before the true punishment.

Jaemin gasped on the ground, trying to catch his breath. His head tilted to the side, and he looked at Sunghoon with hatred in his eyes.

Jaemin: You... will... pay for this...

Sunghoon knelt beside him and held his chin with a force that made him groan in pain.

Sunghoon: No, Jaemin... (Sunghoon whispered, a small smile playing on his lips) You are the one paying.

Jaemin tried to spit on him, but Sunghoon just laughed.

It was then that he looked at Y/N.

Sunghoon: I heard his conversation with the museum owner. (Sunghoon said softly) He said he never touched you.

Jaemin froze.

The silence that followed was heavier than any scream of pain.

Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine upon seeing Sunghoon's gaze. She knew. She knew what that meant.

Sunghoon: That... would destroy you, wouldn't it? (Sunghoon continued, leaning closer to Jaemin) Knowing that she never wanted you. Never gave you anything. But she wants me.

Jaemin's eyes widened, and Y/N held their breath.

Sunghoon turned his gaze to her, and his expression changed completely. The fierce look softened, and he approached slowly.

Sunghoon: But... (his voice became a whisper) Do you want this?

Y/N's heart was pounding.

She wanted him.

I wanted it so much it hurt.

But there was something inside her that hesitated. He had been used before. Touched by hands he did not desire.

She didn't want to be just another person to hurt him.

Y/N: I... (she wet her lips, hesitant) Sunghoon... and if…

He raised his hand and touched her face with a gentleness that made her gasp.

Sunghoon: I want you. (his voice was sincere, raw, filled with emotion) Only you.

Y/N felt something inside her shatter.

The hesitation disappeared.

Jaemin watched everything without being able to say a word. He knew. He knew that would be the end.

And when Sunghoon held Y/N by the waist and pulled her against him, he knew he was right.

The true hell for Jaemin was just beginning.

The room was filled with a thick, suffocating tension. The only sound was Jaemin's ragged breathing, still trying to recover from the pain, and the erratic rhythm of Y/N's heart.

Sunghoon was too close, his warm body against hers. His black wings enveloped them both, creating a cocoon of darkness where only they existed.

Sunghoon: I want you. (Sunghoon repeated, his voice low, almost pleading) Only you.

Y/N held his face between her hands, her fingers caressing his pale skin. The black eyes were filled with something intense, something he barely understood, but that desired her with everything he had.

Y/N: If it's too much... (she started, but he interrupted her)

Sunghoon: You are my first choice. (Sunghoon whispered against her lips) I want this. I want to feel you. I want to know what it's like.

It was enough for any hesitation to disappear.

The desire had been burning in Y/N for days, the hunger growing with each touch, with each submissive glance he cast her way. Now, she had him there, ready, surrendering without reservations.

And Jaemin was watching everything.

Sunghoon kissed Y/N with a mixture of need and adoration. His mouth was warm, eager, desperate to know her in every way. His hands slid over her body, hesitant at first, but soon firm, learning how to touch her.

The control of the collar slipped from Y/N's hands as she pulled Sunghoon closer, her nails scratching his back, feeling the tense muscles under her fingers.

Sunghoon: You are beautiful... (he murmured between kisses, each word laden with reverence) Perfect.

Jaemin groaned in frustration on the floor, but neither of them looked at him. He no longer existed at that moment.

Sunghoon laid Y/N on the table, his dark eyes scanning her body as if he were seeing something sacred. His hands slid slowly, tracing every curve, every shiver, while his lips explored her skin.

Y/N felt adored, desired in a way they had never felt before.

Sunghoon: Tell me what to do... (Sunghoon asked, his voice trembling, his lips parted in a silent plea)

Y/N's heart melted.

She guided his hands, showed him what she wanted, how she wanted it. And he obeyed every command, each of her moans being a reward for his devotion.

The movements started slow, but soon became urgent, desperate. Sunghoon trembled against her, his eyes closed in pure ecstasy.

Sunghoon: Is this... is this good? (he asked, panting, as if he needed her validation)

Y/N smiled against his skin, holding his face with both hands.

Y/N: It's perfect. You are perfect.

Sunghoon groaned, pressing his forehead against hers.

And then, finally, he surrendered completely.

Pleasure enveloped them like a storm, consuming them mercilessly. Sunghoon held Y/N tightly, as if fearing she would disappear, his warm breath against her neck.

Sunghoon trembled against Y/N, his eyes half-closed in pure confusion and pleasure.

She guided him with patience, with affection, as if each of her touches were something precious, something he should savor slowly. Her hands glided over his skin, feeling the muscles contract under her touch.

He had never experienced this before.

He never knew he could desire something beyond what was imposed on him.

And now, Y/N was there, teaching him that pleasure could be given, not taken.

Sunghoon gasped when her lips brushed against his chest, slowly descending. His breath caught in his throat, and he looked down, confused.

Sunghoon: What…? (he couldn't finish the sentence)

Y/N smiled, their fingers tracing the firm line of his abdomen before descending to his penis.

Y/N: Trust me. (his voice was a whisper, a promise)

He trusted.

I would always trust.

Sunghoon propped himself up on his elbows, watching her as she slid down.

The air escaped from his lungs with a sob when her lips brushed the tip of his member.

Sunghoon: Y/N… (he trembled, his entire body shivering)

She looked at him, her eyes shining under the dim light of the room.

Y/N: Has anyone ever touched you like this? (the question was asked gently, but he felt its weight)

He swallowed hard, shaking his head.

Sunghoon: Never... (his voice was a whisper) No one... has ever done this to me.

Y/N's eyes softened.

Y/N: So, I want you to just feel.

And then, she enveloped him with her lips, slowly and deeply.

Sunghoon shouted.

Pleasure hit him like a shock, an intense shiver running down his spine.

He had never felt anything like this before.

It has always been something forced, painful, impersonal. But this? That was warmth, it was softness, it was desire.

He grabbed the papers that were under the table, his eyes wide, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

Sunghoon: Y/N… (your name slipped from his lips like a pleading moan)

She devoured him patiently, savoring every reaction from him, every interrupted sigh. Her hands held his thighs, keeping him in place while she explored every inch with her tongue.

Sunghoon didn't know what to do.

I didn't know where to put my hands, how to contain the overwhelming pleasure that surged through my body like a furious wave.

Y/N: Is it good? (Y/N murmured against him, their warm breath making him tremble)

Sunghoon: Yes... (the answer came out in a drawn-out moan) It's so... so good…

He didn't want it to end.

I didn't want that touch to disappear.

It was as if, for the first time, someone was touching him because they wanted to, because they desired to.

And it made his heart ache in a way he didn't understand.

He grabbed her hair, not to force her, but because he needed to hold her, needed to feel that it was real.

Sunghoon: I… I don't... I don't know how long... (he could barely form words)

Y/N smiled at him.

Y/N: Just give in.

And he surrendered.

Pleasure took him violently, his eyes closing tightly as his body arched beneath her. He moaned her name like a prayer, his fingers gripping until his knuckles turned white.

It was intense.

It was liberating.

It was the first time that pleasure was not something taken from him.

It was given.

And when he finally opened his eyes, he found Y/N watching him, her lips slightly swollen, a glimmer of satisfaction and tenderness in her gaze.

Sunghoon pulled her up, hugging her tightly, burying his face in her neck.

Sunghoon: Thank you… (his voice was hoarse, almost inaudible)

Y/N stroked his hair, smiling against his skin.

Y/N: Always.

Jaemin was sobbing on the floor, devastated.

Y/N smiled, satisfied.

The revenge was complete.

Sunghoon didn't care about him anymore.

There was only Y/N.

And he wanted her forever.

The silence was almost absolute, except for the heavy breathing of Sunghoon and Y/N, still wrapped in the heat of the moment. Jaemin was lying on the floor, his body trembling, his eyes fixed on them with a hatred that mingled with pure despair.

He was devastated.

Sunghoon watched him for a moment, his chest rising and falling slowly as he absorbed what had happened. Something inside him felt different, as if an invisible chain had been broken.

He felt free.

But it still wasn't enough.

Sunghoon reluctantly stepped away from Y/N, standing up. He approached Jaemin, his dark eyes shining with something dangerous.

Jaemin tried to pull away, but the collar around his neck kept him restrained.

Sunghoon: What happened? (Sunghoon asked in a calm tone, but laden with irony) Didn't you like the show?

Jaemin grunted, his face red with anger.

Jaemin: You... bastard... (he tried to get up, but Sunghoon pressed a foot against his chest, pushing him back to the ground)

Y/N: Be careful with what you say. (the voice of Y/N cut through the air, smooth but lethal)

Jaemin swallowed hard. For the first time, it seemed he truly understood that he no longer had control.

Sunghoon bent down, his fingers gripping the collar control. He twirled it between his fingers, experiencing the feeling of power.

For years, he lived under the dominion of this pain, feeling each shock as a reminder that he was not his own master.

Now, it was different.

He had control.

He pressed the button.

Jaemin screamed, his body arching on the ground as electricity coursed through his spine. 

His skin glistened with cold sweat, his eyes rolling for a moment.

Sunghoon observed everything with a neutral, almost indifferent expression.

Y/N approached slowly, kneeling beside Sunghoon. His hand slid over his, guiding his fingers to press the button once more.

Jaemin let out a groan of pain, his resistance breaking more with each passing second.

Sunghoon: You liked doing this with me, didn't you? (Sunghoon asked, tilting his head) Now do you understand what it's like to be on the other side?

Jaemin opened his mouth to say something, but all that came out was a weak groan.

Y/N: You are nothing but a pathetic piece of trash. (Y/N whispered near his ear) And now, you will pay for everything.

Sunghoon pulled Jaemin by the collar, their faces just centimeters apart.

Sunghoon: What happened? Got nothing to say? (he mocked, a dark smile appearing on his lips) It's not fun when you're not the one in control, is it?

Jaemin gasped, his body completely surrendered to suffering.

Y/N took the collar key and looked at Sunghoon.

Y/N: What are we going to do with him?

Sunghoon looked at Jaemin, analyzing him as if he were deciding the fate of an insignificant insect.

Then, a cruel smile curved his lips.

Sunghoon: I think he deserves to taste a bit of his own medicine.

Jaemin's eyes widened, the understanding of what was to come finally sinking in.

Sunghoon slid his fingers along Jaemin's neck, tugging at the collar chain before turning to Y/N.

Sunghoon: Shall we play a little more, my love?

The wicked gleam in Y/N's eyes was the only answer he needed.

The revenge was just beginning.

Jaemin trembled, his body surrendered to exhaustion and despair. The pain was eating him from the inside out, but the worst part wasn't the shock of the collar, nor the precise blows that Sunghoon dealt. The worst part was looking at Y/N and seeing the glimmer of satisfaction in their eyes.

She was enjoying seeing him like this.

And that destroyed him more than any physical pain.

Y/N approached slowly, the heels of her shoes echoing on the marble floor. She knelt beside Jaemin, holding his face between her delicate fingers.

Y/N: You wanted so much for me to look at you, didn't you? (her voice was low, almost a poisonous whisper) You wanted me to desire you... But just look at you now.

Jaemin's eyes filled with hatred, but there was something else there. Humiliation.

Sunghoon knelt beside them, the shadow of his black wings casting across the room. He smiled slightly, tilting his head.

Sunghoon:: Tell me, Jaemin… Do you regret it?

The silence was heavy.

Jaemin didn't respond.

Sunghoon grabbed the collar remote and pressed the button again, making Jaemin scream, his body bending in pain.

Sunghoon: I asked... (Sunghoon whispered against his ear, his fingers gliding softly over Jaemin's sweaty skin) Do you regret it?

Jaemin was gasping, tears welling up in his eyes. His body no longer had the strength to resist.

Jaemin: Y-yes...

Y/N smiled, satisfied.

Y/N: Too bad it's too late.

She looked at Sunghoon, who already understood what she meant.

He pulled Jaemin by the hair, forcing him to look at him one last time.

Y/N: You won't hurt anyone anymore.

And then, Sunghoon broke his neck with a single move.

A crack echoed through the room.

Jaemin's body fell lifeless to the ground, his eyes still wide open.

Sunghoon stood still for a moment, looking at him. He felt something new within himself.

Freedom.

But it wasn't Jaemin's absence that gave her that feeling.

It was Y/N.

He turned to her, his wings fully spreading.

Sunghoon: It's over. (he murmured)

She smiled softly, extending her hand to him.

Y/N: Come with me.

Sunghoon didn't hesitate. He took her hand and pulled her close, wrapping her in a tight embrace.

Sunghoon: Am I free now? (he asked, his voice heavy with emotion)

Y/N ran their fingers through his hair, their eyes softening.

Y/N: Yes, my love. You are free.

He held her close, inhaling her perfume, feeling her warmth.

So, he smiled.

Sunghoon: If freedom means being without you... then I never want to be free.

Y/N felt her heart tighten in her chest, an intense emotion taking over her.

She held his face and kissed him, slowly, deeply, sealing her promise.

Sunghoon was no longer a collectible piece.

He was hers.

And, for the first time, it was a choice.

Y/N: Let's finish what we started.

Y/N slid their fingers gently across his face.

✿ If you don't reblog and comment, you can be sure I'll be showing up in your dreams tonight... and I won’t be as sweet as in the story ✿

[youryurigoddess]

The biggest Easter egg yet

I’ve been meaning to address this for a while now, but @camdenleisurepirates gave me the final push after reading my piece on Gabriel’s cross. Huge thanks for that morsel of motivation, my ADHD brain loves you.

This is going to be yet another long read, although not as extensive as my bookshop statues meta. Still, better get yourself some hot chocolate or another drink of your choice and make sure you’re comfortable!

Now, remember the X-Ray interview with Peter Anderson on Easter Eggs in the opening animation he created for the second season? Forget red herrings, apparently our fandom has a literal red phone box! I’m convinced that this whole scene is a one big — the biggest, actually — Easter Egg, and I’ll explain why step-by-step.

The red phone box Crowley used to warn Aziraphale about the Antichrist and the following Armageddon in S1, the exact one where he left change for an emergency call, seems important enough in terms of the future S3 plot, but there’s so much more going on in this frame. Not only the lift.

The angels

At the very start of this sequence we can see a fragment of an elaborate bridge guarded by cherubs sitting on two columns, maybe globes, leading to a distant structure built over a literal mountain of trash — all elements of the S1 and S2 openings which were consciously picked out by the animators and put together in a very ominous pile.

Ready for some scavenging?

In the Gabriel’s cross meta, I already mentioned the importance of Ponte Sant’Angelo in relation to the ex-Archangel’s statue. Now it’s time to widen our perspective and focus on the full picture — quite literally. Apparently the bridge from the opening sequence has ten statues of angels, exactly as the Italian historical monument.

First things first though: the two big cherubs guarding the entry to the bridge might seem familiar to some of you. While they’re obviously not copies of the same statue, a very similar pair of brass cherubs is placed in Aziraphale’s bookshop to symbolize Aziraphale and Crowley. And looking at the screenshot above and the way they sleep or sulk with their backs turned on each other, they are most certainly not talking. The addition of more than one set of eyes is a lovely reference to biblically accurate angel memes though.

If we assume the traditional left-right positioning of the characters, Aziraphale is on the left and Crowley is on the right. Directly behind Aziraphale we can see a ship named “Good Traits”, but in reverse — kinda sorta confirmed by the animator Peter Anderson to be connected to the concept of the seven deadly sins on Twitter. Same that was mentioned recently by Neil in one of his asks.

The presence of Gabriel — a renegade Archangel wielding a broken cross — on the right, Crowley’s side, seems to match this theory. It could also support one of the possible interpretations of the very last bookshop shot in the S2 finale.

Out of all ten statues, Angel Carrying the Cross by Ercole Ferrata is considered inferior to the others on the bridge in that it appears to be a two-dimensional relief sculpture rather than an unbounded three-dimensional artwork, which seems to match Gabriel’s first impression as a character.

The inscription on the statue reads, “Dominion rests on his shoulders" — that is the weight of the cross that Christ was forced to carry through Jerusalem before being crucified. Even though Gabriel’s burden partially disappeared, the whole bridge and its environment is covered with crosses. It’s clear that we’re looking at a direct parallel of Via Crucis, the Way of Sorrows.

Towering over the Italian bridge, at the very top of Castel Sant’Angelo, is a statue of Archangel Michael, seen as the golden angel on the top left part of the trash pile. Aziraphale’s side, perhaps as his assistant, perhaps a rival? Legends of the Jews mention Michael as the chief of a band of angels who questioned God's decision to create man on Earth. The entire band of angels, except for Michael, was condemned to Fall — which could explain why they have such a good access to the Grapevine That Obviously Doesn’t Exist. And whatever’s going on between Michael and Dagon, perhaps.

In Roman Catholic teachings, Michael has four main roles or offices. Their first role is the leader of the Army of God and the leader of Heaven's forces in the final triumph over the powers of Hell. Viewed as the angelic model for the virtues of the spiritual warrior, their conflict with evil taken as the battle within. The second and third roles of Michael deal with death. Their second role is that of an angel of death, carrying the souls of Christians to Heaven. Michael descends at the hour of death and gives each soul the chance to redeem itself before passing; thus throwing the devil and his minions into consternation. In their third role, Michael weights souls on perfectly balanced scales they are often depicted with as their attribute. In their fourth role, Michael appears as the guardian of the Church. Might be the reason why they’re the closest to the building on top of the mountain.

It looks like Michael lost their sword though, just like Gabriel lost a part of the cross he was supposed to carry. The sword in question was supposed to be used to slay the dragon — Satan, the Adversary — according to John of Patmos and his Book of Revelations.

Speak of the devil: interestingly, there are two copies of an anonymous variation of the Angel of Light statue appearing twice on both sides of the bridge. Both the title as well as the statue itself seem like obvious references to one (former) angel literally called the Lightbringer, Lucifer. Perhaps one of them is representing his son, the Antichrist, instead, with the both of them helping out the Ineffables on two opposing — or perhaps only parallel — sides of the bridge?

The light carried by Lucifer appears to be green, a color used in the series as a visual representation of Hell, but on the intertextual level might also serve as a reference to F. Scott Fitzgerald’s classic novel The Great Gatsby and the green light at the end of the Daisy’s dock symbolizing the undying love, desperation, and longing for an unattainable dream. In the story, the color represents the limitations of power and money. Not surprisingly, the novel appears on Jim’s bookshelf and is part of the Good Omens book club — a list of personal recommendations from Neil Gaiman and Douglas Mackinnon for the fans to catch up on before the next series.

Last but not least, the possible connection to Libertas as the inspiration for the Statue of Liberty, shown multiple times in S2 as a foreshadowing of our character’s trip to America in S3. The related quote of Patrick Henry “Give me liberty or give me death” becomes even more relevant if we consider how the motto of the French Revolution was sometimes written as Liberté, égalité, fraternité ou la mort (“Liberty, equality, fraternity or death”). A lesson surely learnt by a certain angel back in 1793, when he was held prisoner for the last time before being forcefully taken Upstairs in the Final Fifteen.

The bridge and the castle

Okay, these are the basic observations. Now a brief historical overview and we will reach the fun bit in a jiffy.

Have you ever wondered about the meaning of this whole complex? It wasn’t always angelic, but named after a Roman noble dynasty. The Aelian bridge was built by the Emperor Hadrian in 134 AD to span River Tiber from the city center to his mausoleum. With time, the remains of more emperors were put to rest in there, until it was plundered and destroyed in a war. Then the remaining structure was transformed into a military fortress and a castle serving as the papal residence in times of war.

The Papal State also used Sant'Angelo as a prison; the Renaissance philosopher Giordano Bruno was imprisoned there for six years. Executions of the inmates were performed in the small inner courtyard, but they weren’t the only deaths in the area. On the other side of the bridge, in the adjoining Piazza del Ponte, under the watchful eyes of the stone likenesses of two saints, the public executions were held, and the heads of the criminals were brought onto the bridge and exposed to public view there.

As a prison, the former mausoleum is also the setting for the third act of Giacomo Puccini's 1900 opera Tosca. Long story short, the eponymous heroine convinces her lover to feign death so that they can flee together. Unfortunately, they are betrayed and the firing squad shoots at him with real bullets instead of blanks. Tosca believes in the quality of his acting performance rather than the truth, and when the realization hits her, she leaps to her death from the Castel’s ramparts.

After Nero’s bridge was destroyed, the travelers were forced to cross this bridge as the only direct route to the Vatican and St Peter’s Basilica, earning it the nickname “the bridge of Saint Peter”. That’s why in the 16th century Pope Clement VII erected statues of Saints Peter and Paul at the ends of the bridge, guarding it as they are supposed to protect the entry to Heaven.

In 1688 the bridge was embellished with ten angel statues, five on each side of the bridge, carrying Arma Christi, the Instruments of the Passion. The Good Omens characters represented by those statues in the opening sequence might be other instruments of Christ’s suffering as parts of the system that needs to be overthrown or replaced.

One angel appears particularly important in the context of both the bridge and the Second Coming — Saint Michael the Archangel.

Legend holds that the Archangel Michael appeared atop Hadrian’s mausoleum, sheathing their sword as a sign of the end of the plague of 590, thus lending the castle its present name. A less charitable yet more apt elaboration of the legend, given the militant disposition of this particular Archangel, was heard by the 15th-century traveler who saw an angel statue on the castle roof. He recounts that during a prolonged season of the plague, Pope Gregory I heard that the populace, even Christians, had begun revering a pagan idol at the church of Santa Agata in Suburra. A vision urged the Pope to lead a procession to the church. Upon arriving, the idol miraculously fell apart with a clap of thunder. Returning to St Peter's by the Aelian Bridge, the Pope had another vision of an angel atop the castle, wiping the blood from his sword on his mantle, and then sheathing it. While the Pope interpreted this as a sign that God was appeased, this did not prevent Gregory from destroying more sites of pagan worship in Rome. In honor of the vision and Michael, the bridge was renamed in their name.

What if the procession from the opening sequence was meant to imitate the procession led by the Pope from the legend? What if Aziraphale, now officially a Supreme Archangel, Commander of the Heavenly Host, is the one actually leading it, with Crowley finally at his side as his partner and second in command, just like it was proposed by him in the Final Fifteen?*

What if by some reason, maybe personal ambition, maybe just a tragic coincidence or situational necessity, there really was an impostor in Heaven, and Metatron — the so called Voice of God who seemingly doesn’t speak up for Herself since Job’s test — has been playing a winged version of the Wizard of Oz all along?

It would make just the perfect sense if not for one tiny detail. The procession we see on the bridge is actually led by Crowley, which doesn’t fit the parallel at all — unless it’s actually a proof of an ongoing body swap, as the mismatched names of the actors could also suggest?

The mountain of trash and the bookshop

The symbolic mountain of trash we can see Aziraphale and Crowley climb is a reference in itself. To an actual mount called Zion, believed to be the place where Yahweh, the God of Israel, dwells (Isaiah 8:18; Psalm 74:2), the place where God is king (Isaiah 24:23) and where God has installed king David on his throne (Psalm 2:6).

In a literal sense, it’s a hill in Jerusalem, although the sources refer to three different locations in different contexts — although for the purpose of this meta the Upper Eastern Hill (Temple Mount) makes the most sense. Its highest part became the site of Solomon's Temple. The same King Solomon the rituals in Freemasonry refer to. Masonic buildings, where lodges and their members meet, are sometimes called "temples" specifically as an allegoric reference to King Solomon's Temple, not actual places of worship. And Aziraphale’s bookshop is built around Solomon’s Magic Circle.

In a metaphysical sense, and especially in the context of the Christian New Testament, it is also believed to be a part of Heaven — the heavenly Jerusalem, God's Holy, eternal city. Christians are said to have “(…) come to Mount Zion and to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem, to an innumerable company of angels, to the general assembly and church of the firstborn who are registered in heaven” (Hebrews 12:22-23 cf. Revelation 14:1). Just like the procession were following in the opening sequence.

There’s been some speculation whether the lift on top of the mountain could symbolize Aziraphale’s bookshop, or, more specifically, the oculus in its centre. If you look closely at the enhanced screenshot, you can see that the dome isn’t made of glass and that it looks like a tower (a church’s bell tower, perhaps) more than a whole building.

And there is an actual doorway in there — not like the modern lift doors — opening up towards the source of that white, heavenly light. And what kind of enlightenment can you usually find up in the skies or heavens?

We’re welcomed to crack open the doors to the Heavenly Sanctuary — the Most Holy place, Sanctum Sanctorum, the Holy of Holies — to undraw the final curtain and finally stand eye to eye with God. Who knows, maybe even ask some questions or listen to some answers.

Or, at the very least, to meet one of Her forms known as Jesus Christ. Because that’s precisely where he serves as our (humanity’s) Mediator and the Holy Priest after his Ascension to Heaven. The structure at the top reminds of some temple architecture seen in Antiquity and Christianity.

The Catholic Church considers the Church tabernacle or its location (traditionally at the rear of the sanctuary) as the symbolic equivalent of the Holy of Holies, due to the storage of consecrated hosts in that vessel and their meaning as the Body of Christ. Tabernacle is commonly marked with a red light turned on and off depending on His presence or lack if it.

Looks like He’s already in the area, one way or another, keeping eye on some things.

Are we following a procession of believers happy to embrace their one and true Savior? Or are they actually protesters on their way to dethrone the authority and the system?

Guess we will have to wait and see.

[rosakuma]

Okay Y’all hear me out…

I know this is WAYYYY too soon due to us not knowing anything more about the Tetro Blue cast besides what we gotten from them in the casting call description and the episode [Departure] of Tetro Pink.

BUT I want to sell you on the potential we could have of Ouno Nanae X Denden Misao (Nanden, denanae,or Ousao maybe for the ship name?)

So going over their descriptions on what their personalities may be like:

Ouno Nanae- Student One is a fairly airheaded and dazed girl who often places way too much trust in others due to a general naivety. She often acts without thinking or knowing all the facts of a situation. She speaks with a sort of lilting and airy voice with a mid to high pitched tone.

Denden Misao- Student Five is a friendly and kind airhead who loves to help people and enjoys the company of others. She tries to stay positive about most things, but can become tired when dealing with people who emotionally drain her. She speaks in a somewhat whispery, soft and kind voice with a slight rasp and a mid-to-high pitch.

Going by these, Nanae and Misao are both seem a bit airheaded, but friendly individuals. Nanae would trust Misao to be around her(mostly due to naivety) and Misao would enjoy her company for the most part along with perhaps looking out for her if she runs into trouble. I can definitely see them form a fast friendship maybe even along with Sou or Ruka too during ch.1 before the murder happens. Super cute pair already!

But wait…there’s more!

With their talents as a contortionist and ice sculptor separately. This would pair nicely as Nanae can do a lot of unique and intricate poses for Misao to use as reference for a new sculpture.

And for angst factors to consider. Seeing how Denden can eventually get tired from being drained from people so to speak. Having to deal with Ouno possibly ending up in dangerous situations(especially if these two make it past ch.1 and realize they need to be careful on who to trust) a lot, it would be so hard on her to deal with this especially if Ouno doesn’t change.

Btw these situations would be very interesting if we add Daiki to the mix as I 100% bet along with Hideyuki, he is going to take advantage of her thanks to her naivety in trust.

This can cause a breakup in their friendship as Denden feels like Ouno not being considerate of her worries for her or anyone worrying about her mental health. Even worse if Ouno chooses to believe in someone like Daiki or anyone else bad in the cast over her in stuff. And if we decided to make this Yuri doomed, instead of Ouno just dying because she trusted the wrong person, her trusting the wrong person lead to her best friend either getting murdered or worse, killing someone because of this. Thus having to cope with if she was just a bit more cautious, more attentive to Denden, none of this would’ve happen….

Anyways I have no proof any of this might happen, but I think it would be cool as yuri pairing. At most, a good friendship to see. Regardless I’m very excited to see these two when Tetro Blue comes out!

I might make another on potential dynamics we could have or hell more crack ships.

Other current crack ships I have rn is Daiki X Nanae, Erina X Noriko, Osamu X Misao, Daiki X Hideyuki, and Ruka X Nanae(man I’m just shipping Nanae a lot huh?)

[katyahina]

Just some references I've been compiling, but I decided to put them here!

1) Marika seems to have two distinct stages: one with less detailed dress (unless sculpture creators were just lazy fdshhfds) but with three braids (right long one, left cut one and back big one) (screenshot proving the third big braid on the back as depicted on her statues in the Churches by @blaiddfailcam in this ( x ) really cool theory post!). And second with her more trademark singular braid pushed to the side! The bracelets on her shoulders are permanent, but her wrist bracelets seem to just come and go. Well, like her belt. @val-of-the-north put it the best: "people do not have only one look, so why demigods should be different" 💀

UPDATE 6/6/24: I finally have a good shot of her third braid!

2) She doesn't seem to have more than B cups though, and her face shows a mole above her right eyebrow. I hoped Radagon had the same feature, but with the best model of his face I still can't say whether it is so because of how his hair is placed:

3) Miquella is strange, as his statue versions and his drawing/DLC promo versions still vary, despite him supposedly being stuck in the same state forever

But seems like his "earlier" stage depicted in the statues has this 'apron' feature, likely inspired by those ancient Greece robes! The DLC version so far has more plain 'skirt' part without apron part, and with the belt over his sleeves! And MUCH longer hair, of course!

UPDATE: I've been able to take a closer look at Miquella's statue FINALLY, and turns out the version of his statue that holds a bud (especially notable in Ordina) has some herbs sticking out from the "apron"! What I assumed was apron might actually be a pouch for herbs and alike, attached to his belt! Or it is an apron with inner pockets. x)

4) I wonder whether, maybe, Malenia and Godwyn used to have white robes before (in the states that are depicted in the statues), and dark blue with golden embroidery simply means adulthood? Also Godwyn's Prince of Death state appears to have the blue clothing let down to only cover the lower body, same as Radagon and Marika's when we find them (saw these good statue models here ( x ) on xitter)

^ also mind how this body for SURE looks more adult than the body on the statue that holds Malenia and Miquella!

UPDATE 6/6/24 (another one): I was able to find the image with an angle that shows Malenia's face in that statue with Godwyn! Her smaller self does have less elaborate crown, of course!

( x )

In this age, her crown is reasonably same as Miquella's, and circles around her head in full, whereas with her older depiction you can see the crown circling under hair!

[quitefair]

The Temple of Mythal and Greek Sculpture

Or: How Bioware takes from history without any nuance.

--

Picture this. You're me, playing Inquisition for the first time. You get to the Temple of Mythal, the doors shut behind you and you finally get to look around. It's a typical elven ruin for the game, nothing much seems different...

Hold on.

Hold the fuck on.

You know what that is.

You know what that's based on, and for a long time after it tickles you. Oh, maybe that meant something in the grander scheme of things! We've never seen such a blatant reference to a real-life sculpture anywhere else in game (to my knowledge at the time)! Maybe it'll come up later and it'll all make sense!

Here's the deal. I've been bothered by this for years. The more I think about it, the more angry I become. Anger over a single fucking type of statue, you say? There's a lot of other shit to be angry over in this game, and you choose this?

YES! I CHOOSE THIS! AND THIS IS WHY.

--

Picture this. You're me again, aged 14 this time. You're in the Louvre, the first museum of Western classical art you've ever been to. You've grown up in a place where this interest could only be cultivated from extra-curricular reading, and for a kid that age from my country to be ass deep in Greek and Egyptian myth is frankly lmao. Neurodivergent. Anyway.

So we're wandering around the Louvre, I've just taken my parents through the Egyptian section and given them a thorough infodump on everything I know about burial rites.

And then we enter this room. And I very nearly fall to my knees when I catch sight of her.

This is the sculpture the statues at the Temple of Mythal are based on - one Winged Victory of Samothrace.

She is a sculpture from the Hellenestic era, depicting the goddess Nike stood at the prow of a ship. Her head and both arms are missing, save one hand with two fingers (also in the Louvre but displayed separately). She was found on the Greek island of Samothrace, among the ruins of what was known as the Sanctuary of the Great Gods. It seemed like she was displayed at the top of a hill, looming down at all that regarded her.

I’ve had the absolute privilege of seeing her in person twice in my life, both before and after the 2013 restoration. And let me tell you, regardless of which staircase that leads you there, the sight of her will stop you in your tracks.

[Now with people, for scale.]

She is massive. Larger than life, and immediately is the centre of your attention. It's not the fact that she has no head, no arms. No, you will realise the closer you get to her, the more you're able to appreciate the details of this absolutely astounding piece of history.

No. It's because she feels so alive.

The way her robes drape against flesh, wet from sea-spray or rain, yet flowing with the motion of an invisible wind. The wings cast behind her dramatically as her right foot steps forward. Standing tall and proud, unflinching, unbowed against the elements. Even without her arms, you can feel how dynamic the torso and legs are.

You don't need to be an art historian, or even have any knowledge of Greek myth or art history to stand in front of her, as I once did as a young teen, and nearly be brought to tears.

So.

This brings me to the first of the two main gripes I have with the way this sculpture is used in Inquisition.

Compared to the way she's displayed in the Louvre, and also presumably how she was presented to her original audience - larger than life, looming, powerful, beautiful - she is relegated instead to smaller, repeating statues of the same nature throughout the temple.

This diminishes the purpose of the original sculpture, which was to instill a sense of awe and wonder. The singularity that forces you to focus and appreciate the scale and intricacy. The aura, the gravitas of having a single, massive sculpture of such a dynamic figure is completely gone.

And to make things worse, they Mythal-ify her. Adding a helmed head and changing her beautiful feathered wings to leathery dragon wings. They don't even add arms, which is odd because the original sculpture very clearly is missing its arms.

And, may I ask, Why?

It feels cheap, like they saw the Winged Victory and were like 'oh shit this is a cool sculpture, we should add it in game' without giving any fucking thought to what the sculpture means.

Which brings me to the second gripe. The complete disregard for the symbolism of the Winged Victory.

Detail from the Athena fountain, Parliament Building of Vienna, showing Nike the Winged Victory in the palm of Athena's hand [source]

Nike is a minor Greek deity, said to be the daughter of Pallas (a Titan) and the river Styx. Her other siblings by the same parents include Zelus (Zeal),  Bia (Might) and Kratos (Strength).

Yes. That Kratos.

She was one of the earliest gods to pledge her allegiance to Zeus in the Titonomachy, and after the victory of the Olympians, Nike and the other gods that allied with them were allowed to live on Olympus. In her aspect as Victory, she is closely associated with several of the major Greek gods, and in particular, Athena.

There's also her Roman counterpart, Victoria. This version doesn't come with the backstory Nike has, but is more of a general concept of victory. This is the aspect that is present in a lot of the modern sculptures and interpretations of Nike/Victoria:

Left: Detail from the Berlin Victory Column. Right: Detail from the Victoria Memorial, London. Note the similar iconography, of a woman seemingly standing against a strong wind, fabric and cloth adhering and yet flowing against the breeze, wings outstretched.

From this, we can probably extrapolate what our beloved Winged Victory might've looked like. Here's an artist's render of one possibility:

There's some iconography we need to go through before moving on - symbols that are commonly associated with Nike/Victoria.

One is the trumpet as see in the reconstruction above, the sound and symbol of the end of war, of impending peace. Another is the laurel wreath, another Greek symbol of victory and achievement. Famously, laurel wreaths were used to crown victors of the original Olympic games.

This is another conversation entirely, but there’s a discussion to be had about the duality of Elgar’nan and Mythal, in term of vengeance and justice, and how an emotional rage versus a calculated wisdom can be compared to the difference between the two Greek gods of war – Ares and Athena.

If we can compare Mythal to Athena, in the sense of her wisdom in making difficult decisions, then it’s not a stretch to associate Mythal with the symbolism of Nike, and therefore explain the presence of statues similar to the Winged Victory in her temple.

But since Bioware absolutely did not put this in the game for anything other than the Aesthetic, there’s some problems that need to be addressed.

Mainly in the way in which these statues are scattered throughout the temple. If you wanted static, ominous statues to line the walls as your player characters explore, perhaps have like, I dunno. Less dynamic statues that you reference?

Left: Nike of Paionos, Right: Stele 1 of Las Incantadas

Or maybe instead of statues, have friezes lining the walls. Like this one from the equally iconic Pergamon altar, depicting the Giganomanchy.

It’s the same symbolism, the wings, the smiting of foes and victory of good over evil.

And then perhaps, at the heart of the temple... where, y'know Bioware, lay a body of water sacred to Mythal herself, you could've perhaps done something remarkable. You could then have had the most dramatic and beautiful entrance you’d ever seen.

[Nike, at the iconic Daru Staircase, the Louvre]

It was at this moment that Mythal walked out of the sea of the earth's tears and onto the land. She placed her hand on Elgar'nan's brow, and at her touch he grew calm and knew that his anger had led him astray. - Codex entry: Mythal: The Great Protector

Mythal herself strides out of the Well Of Sorrows, the metaphorical tears of her followers that died and kept their knowledge alive in her name. Her (draconic) wings spread out, (restored) hands outstretched to touch her husband, to calm the rage that nearly destroyed this world.

A symbol of victory against the blind rage of a god against His father, the Sun. A symbol of wisdom and grace, against the violence of hatred. A divine sense of something bigger than anything we could imagine.

There's also the lack of iconography regarding victory, instead piling on some cheap representations of what we think of as Mythal. That's another post entirely on the symbolism of the Elven gods, but if Bioware really wanted to hone in on the Athena/Athena Nike parallels, they might have thrown in the trumpet/laurel/palm leaf symbolism with the statues, alongside the dragon wings.

If this were the case, then maybe, just maybe, Inquisition would’ve then earned the use of this sculpture in the game.

Sources not listed above/Further reading if you're interested

https://www.louvre.fr/en/explore/the-palace/a-stairway-to-victory

https://www.worldhistory.org/article/1412/winged-victory-the-nike-of-samothrace/https://smarthistory.org/nike-winged-victory-of-samothrace/

https://smarthistory.org/nike-winged-victory-of-samothrace/

https://www.khanacademy.org/humanities/ancient-art-civilizations/greek-art/hellenistic/a/nike-winged-victory-of-samothrace

[beifong-brainrot]

What do you think of this?

https://www.tumblr.com/rifari2037/761435740681928704?source=share

Oh wow that's a lot of points. And it looks like the OP is living the cottagecore dream judging by all the cherrypicking and strawman building they're doing! Though I do think they make some good points, or at least they have the spirit. It's clear they're passionate about their ship and they want to defend it, which is understandable. I don't want this to come off as shading some random shipper, because I can respect their dedication and the gathering of references, even if they present points rather disingenuously and their use of references is incorrect.

1.

In their first point, OP calls upon the very obvious reference of La Pietà, particularly Michelangelo's statue of it, as basis of their opinion that Katara is presented as Aang's mother.

Now, Pietà is actually a term used to reference anything related to Mary mourning Jesus's death, so there are multiple statues and pieces of art depicting that biblical scene, however the most famous, and most refrenced one, is Michelangelo's statue, so much so that it had become synonymous with it.

While yes, the most obvious and straightforward interpretation of Pietà is a mother grieving her son, there are many other interpretations of it in fiction and art, due to how ancient the concept is.

One very obvious connection to be made is the similarity of Aang and Jesus. While atla is primarily based around non Christian media, the concept of a 'deity in a human body/human touched by god' suffering and dying to save humanity is hardly a novel concept. It just so happens that the Christian mythos is the most widespread iteration of this theme, with plenty of art and themes to reference.

La Pietà symbolises the death of a saviour, the destruction of a godlike deity by misguided humans. It shows us this deity's first and truest believer grieving their death.

The utilisation of a refrence to Jesus is also a nice reference to Aang's future revival, because that is also what happened to Jesus. The theme of rebirth is surprisingly prevalent in references to Pietà.

It's actually very interesting that this scene refrences Michelangelo's sculpture in particular, since one of the bigger controversies surrounding the statue at its time is how young Mary looked, much too young to be the mother of a 33 year old Jesus. Many believe that this depiction is meant to showcase Mary's purity, and some believe that this was a refrence to Dante's Divine Comedy, particularly a passage where Dante highlights not only Mary's role as Jesus' mother, but also her role as God's daughter and the spouse of the Holy Spirit (the Holy Trinity be weird like that). Presenting her as the pinnacle of human virtue.

This is an interesting angle, because (even though this concept eludes a large chunk of the fandom) Katara is young. She is a child. And she's also pretty damn virtuous. Throughout the show, Katara is compassionate, determined, hopeful, strong and a myriad of other things. She is who keeps the Gaang going in the Desert, she is the one who saves Aang, she shows compassion to the people of the Fire Nation. She represents and embodies the goodness and hope of humanity in a way many female characters can't.

If we're gonna refrence the Bible, we can compare Kataang to the Holy Spirit being so taken by Mary's virtue, to the point where an aspect of it becomes human like her, by her.

(Does this make Bumi II Jesus? Maybe)

Boiling this reference down to "momther" seems like a disservice to Katara, because Mary represents a whole lot more than just that too. Or maybe I'm just an ex Catholic from Poland which is like the seed of the Cult of Mary.Now, don't get me wrong, many of the aspects of Mary's story do have some icky undertones, but the concept of her in Christian mythos and in popculture has evolved extremely.

It's also important to note that atla isn't unique in referencing La Pietà, even for romantic couples. The statue was quite a big infulence on art, even without its symbolism, to the point where it's sometimes heralded as the start of a short time period named the High Renaissance (which sounds much more fun than it actually was. Alas, no weed in late 15th century Italy.) Many media used it as a shorthand for grief, loss and sorrow, utilising many different pairings. Yes, even romantic.

What, are we gonna say that the Batman and the Joker had a mother/son relationship now?

Pietà means 'pity' or 'compassion' in Italian and I think this perfectly sums up the essence of the theme, particularly in modern art. It is meant to invoke the viewer's compassion, our pity, our sorrow.

And the scene where Katara, a 14 year old child caught in a war, cradles the dead body of Aang, another child, who is burdened with the weight of being a godlike saviour, should evoke pity, should it not?

Also Op references that one interview where Bryke say that Kataang is like having a crush on a babysitter, which, if anyone has the link to the full interview, I'd appreciate it, because I wanna have the full context before I make a call. It could be a clumsy explanation of a trope, it could be taken out of context, etc. Op does not provide enough of the material for me to formulate a proper opinion.

2.

Op's second point is that they believe that Kataang anti's claim that Katara never had romantic feelings for Zuko and that Katara was like a sister to him. They provide the scene of Katara examining Zuko's scar as evidence of potential romantic feelings from Katara's side. As they say, it is unusual for Katara to inspect a wound so closely before proceeding to heal it. Now, I don't think Katara had any regular water with her in the catacombs, which may be an explanation.

And when we see Katara usually heal, it's because someone is dying/freshly wounded. Like you don't have to poke around in the bleeding lightning hole in Aang's back to go: huh maybe this needs medical attention. And in the cases of her using healing to reverse Jet's brainwashing there really wasn't anything to inspect.

Now as a professional burn scar haver, I can say that, especially in the first few years, a lot of doctors inspected my many scars by physical touch. This is, from my understanding (do forgive me for not remembering I was like a toddler) is to assess the damage to the skin, whether or not certain glands are working properly and regulating the skin, etc.

ButI guess next time I go to the dermatologist to have my scars examined and they inspect the burn on my hand they're actually tryna hold hands romantically. Good to know. I'm gonna get railed by so many doctors. 🥳

Another reason for Katara stalling could be because... well, she did bond with Zuko, but he still does have a history of being bad™️. Like as kind as girlie is, there probably was a bit of a "should I really use all my super special magic water on the guy who tried to kill me like a few months ago?" type of questioning there.

I believe the creators also mentioned that Katara did experiments on the spirit water and determined that it only works on people with a strong spiritual connection, so she may be pondering if the water would even work.

As for Zuko and Katara being sibling coded, I think it stems from Katara and Azula obviously being foils and the very blatant juxtaposition of the Fire Nation Royal Family and that of Katara and Sokka's.

These two families have very obvious similarities and their dynamics are often used as foils.

So it isn't a leap for people to put forth the idea that Katara embodies everything Zuko wanted Azula to be as a sister and longs to have the relationship Sokka and Katara want.

We don't see much of Katara and Zuko's interactions after they make up, but we do occasionally see her poking fun at him, not unlike she does with Sokka, but that is just an observation. The gaang banter between each other a lot. But the ending to the Last Agni Kai, where Katara literally heals the damage Azula made to Zuko also does solidify this point, at least symbolically.

3.

The Op claims that another anti Zutara take is that Zuko and Katara's elements do not mix and can't work well together, and prove it to be false by showing how well Zuko and Katara work in combat situations. And you know what? They have a point there! Zuko and Katara are very capable together and they are honestly incredibly fun to watch when they team up!

....and then OP slides their way into the false eqivalence fallacy, which is a habit they seem to pick up especially for the last 2 points.

OP brings up the 2023 film Elemental, to back up their point, however, instead of utilising the comparison of tropes, they substitute their point with simply describing the plot of the movie and making loose allusions to zutara as a ship.

When bringing up references, it's best to pick out common tropes/storylines/themes. For example, they picked out the symbolism of fire and water, which is an excellent first step. However, then they proceed to describe an event where the characters of the movie touch, creating steam, which, if they want to make this comparison, they need to connect somehow to Zutara.

I assume they wanted to imply that Zuko and Katara could also create something new by working together? However, they'd have to explain this comparison, because one of the predominant themes of Katara and Zuko's relationship is healing the old. The idea of healing Zuko's scar, the attempt at retribution for Kya, Zuko and Katara healing their relationship being symbolic of them healing the great pain the Fire Nation caused to the Water Tribe, etc.

Im not saying this comparison can't be made, I just want OP to elaborate because they just yeeted vague concepts at us and expected us to extrapolate.

Where the theme of creating something new lays more with Zuko and Aang's relationship, as Zuko describes in his coronation speech if I'm not mistaken.

I think Op could've pulled this comparison off if they'd gone more in depth, because there certainly is a proper comparison to be made. (I assume. I haven't watched Elemental. Op just presented their point poorly. They could've just lied to me I just want them to at least lie well).

4.

In the last point, OP attempts to debunk the claim that Zuko and Katara have no chemistry. And once again, I agree with them! I think Zuko and Katara have very good onscreen chemistry. Their banter is fun to watch, they work well in action scenes and their emotional scenes always hit pretty hard for me.

Whether or not this chemistry is romantic chemistry or not is left up to interpretation. Because when we talk about chemistry between characters, it can refer to things other than romance. It's, in generalisation, something that makes us care (for good or bad reasons) about a relationship between characters. For example, Katara has good chemistry with Sokka and Toph. But it isn't necessarily romantic chemistry (though I am a big Katoph truther).

Now the term chemistry has been mainly taken over by romance because we can't have nice things, so I don't blame OP for looking at this rather nebulous concept purely through the lense of romance.

Side note, I think OP mixed up IRL romantic chemistry and the different types on onscreen chemistry when pulling up a definition, but that's beside the point. But I'd perfer thek to specify exactly which type of chemistry they mean, like are we talking 'weird pickup artist chemistry' or 'these characters make me feel something chemistry'.

However, I think OP once again presents a very lacklustre example of this chemistry and utilises false equivalency to prove their point.

Instead of bringing up Zuko and Katara's actual chemistry, OP utilises a different movie as a crutch. They compare the ending of the movie Tangled, where Flynn Rider is injured and later healed by Rapunzel to the admittedly very similar scene of the last Agni Kai.

Where I can see where they're attempting to go with this, they're trying to point out romantic tropes that could be applied to Zuko and Katara's relationship, they kinda miss the mark?

They bring up a narrative, when the point is meant to be about chemistry. Where a good narrative and storyline can enhance chemistry, romantic chemistry is often more about character interactions.

As I pointed out previously, Zuko and Katara do have chemistry as characters. Whrm pointing this chemistry out, utilise the many similarities and mild differences of their ideals and personalities, point out where these differences clash and where their similarities intersect. Dissect their interactions, how they influence each other.

It may not force the reader to consider romance as much as building your argument around an established romantic couple like Flynn and Rapunzel would, but it will present your points genuinely and allow readers to slowly come around to your points instead of forcing the conclusion on them.

Going "oh pair A did this, and pair B did this too. Pair A is a romantic couple, therefore pair B is also a romantic couple" is literally comparing apples and oranges and proves very little.

I see what OP is trying to do and I appreciate the effort, and even agree with some of their points, to an extent. I would also like to know where they got a lot of these ideas about what zutara antis think because it doesn't really add up with what I have seen from this side of the fandom, but maybe I'm just not as invested as I used to be in the ship wars.

I also don't want to send any harassment towards OP, please.

From just reading their post, they seem rather young and other than the first point, their post consists purely of just pointing out tropes they enjoy and applying those tropes to a ship they like. Yes, they presented their points kinda clumsily but they were simply expressing their preferences and opinions.

Where they presented some of their points in a manner that was a bit disingenuous and leading, this is also not a crime. And I don't think they wanted to intentionally mislead people, just express their own thoughts without going too in depth with them. Which is fine too, we're all just screaming into the void here on tumblr.

As arguments for Zutara go, tqhis si probably the least egregious I've seen in a while. It's benign, just someone talking about their preferences and not being used to presebting their arguments in this form.

[theotheronedotorg]

Could we maybe get Mama Walker and a reader insert doing a little craft with the boys? Like they make bracelets to help remember their mom by.

When I got this ask, I had asked if the reader insert should be my own, like how Mama is a reader/character insert or a reader insert from one of their own stories. We settled on a reader insert from their story series 'CoD Ghosts Cryptid Hunters'. I quite like it, and it's fascinating to read,,

Anyways, the reader's name will be left unsaid, but the nickname will be Val, for @brokenpieces-72 story reference.

However, to make this closer to my story-making, I'll be putting in a bit of a change. I also don't want to Copywrite (I don't know if you even can do that on here, so in case you can, I'm not risking it.) anything from their story, so that's why I'm making these changes as well,,

I hope this is close to what you had in mind, and I'm sorry if it's not what you wanted,,

I'll stop rambling now so you can read,,

--

"What was she like?"

David froze at the question, his body stopping like time had stilled. Logan seemed to do the same from where he sat at the table, colored wool strings and beads of all kinds spread out on the wooden surface.

Val, the boys' friend for about three weeks now, stared at the picture of Elias's wife. It was one of the few taken on their wedding day, and it was clear, even though the darling dress made her look so elegant, that she was pregnant with David. The white fabric draped over her body looked like a marble sculpture. The white flower embroidery was like vines etching against the see-through sleeves and layered skirts that hid her legs and followed her in a three-foot drape. Her shoulders were bare, and the sleeves that ended at her wrists had a ribbon-like strap around the ends of the light, baggy fabric.

A loose, single braid wrapped around her head acted as a crown, with white flowers set in the crooks and the bends. The rest of her hair was set in a low bun with a few more flowers set in the beautiful fluffy mess. A few strands of hair framing her face made her youth at the time even more apparent.

Elias talked about that day a lot, even when Mama was still alive. He talked about how she smelled of Jasmine and Ylang-ylang. How her makeup was so perfect that it made her glow twice as much. He spoke about how her pregnancy that day was kind to her, how she hadn't had any pains other than the given back pains, and even that was merciful on her that day.

David took in a breath, his green eyes (a hue that his Mama's would constantly change to no matter what lighting she was in) glanced over towards the picture that sat comfortably on the table Logan was at. The mahogany frame had swirls and intricate designs that matched the photo's elegant uniqueness. The glass that protected the photo was thin and had a clear coating to it that left no smudges when someone were to touch it. Elias took extra care of that photo, even before her death.

"What was your mom like?" Val questioned once more, turning her head towards the two and pausing as she eyed their frozen bodies.

David let out a silent breath, pushing it out for the sake of his lungs. He didn't need them to feel like they were going to blow because he couldn't find the energy to breathe again. He couldn't take his eyes off the picture, and from the corner of his vision, he could see Logan curling in on himself.

"She- uh. ." David started, brushing off his sweaty palms on his pant legs. He cleared his throat slightly, the sting of hot tears appearing behind his eyes. Even though it's been about three years since her death, he still couldn't get over it. Not fully. Questions about her always made him want to cry. "She was kind." He pushed out, his throat feeling tighter by the second.

Logan nodded from where he was, his fingers pinching the strings that were typically used to make homemade bracelets. He'd generally stopped talking after Mama's death, but sometimes he'd let out a peep or two, just to let his vocal cords feel useful once more. But he'd mainly do that alone.

"She used to do a lot of things." Logan managed to let out, his gaze downcast as he felt the eyes of his friend and brother on him. "She used to be a hairstylist when we were little."

David felt a tightness in his chest greaten at his brother's voice. It was shaky and raspy from misuse and emotion, but it was his voice. He took in a sharp breath through his nose and moved to sit down with the two, taking a bead from the pile Logan had made and inspected it, his eyes scanning the little bird that was printed on the white surface of it.

"She had a lot of hobbies." David started, his lips turning up into a soft smile at the memories that sprang to mind. "Like bird watching. She'd go out in the mornings and just watch the birds, saying that was the best time to watch them because they were just waking up with their kids."

Val looked between the two from where she sat, her eyes saddening at the sight of the two returning to their depressive states. She didn't mean for them to regress. Honestly, she didn't. She just wanted to know more about the famous woman who birthed her two best friends.

She took in a breath and looked down at her pile, eyeing the assortment of colors and sizes of beads, a few of them having bird pictures on them as well. She picked up a white thread, eyeing it like it could solve life's secrets in one single word.

"What," she started, her words trailing off just as they slipped from her lips. She took in a breath and glanced up at the two, noticing how they looked at her. They weren't looking at her like they wanted her to stop talking. They were looking at her like they wanted her to express themselves. They must have gotten that from their mother. She'd seem like the type to have people express themselves instead of bottling up their emotions. "What kind of colors did she like?"

It didn't take long for the two brothers to lighten up. Making things for their mother was something they always loved to do. Getting their dad to buy her stuff on Valentine's Day was how they gifted her expensive items when they were little, and when they got the chance in school, they'd make her anything. Cards, books, pictures, poets, bracelets, necklaces, shirts, jackets. Things that she'd be glad to have and/or wear.

Making her a bracelet of all her favorite colors and patterns reminded the two of her personality and her clothes. For example, a solid pink bead and a white one with a fox head picture reminded the two of when Mama used to dress up in onesies, especially a pink fox, whenever she'd build pillow forts with them. A white bead with a picture of the sun was a memory of her taking David and Logan to a park where she and Elias would sit on a bench and watch the two play. A solid black bead and a white one with the picture of a squid were a reminder of times when they'd go to the aquarium, specifically for the squids so they could try and spot them from where they would be hidden.

David managed to tell the story of her funeral. She used to be a medic in the army (apparently, she'd done everything) and met with a group of soldiers who showed up at her burial. A captain, a lieutenant, and a sergeant. They had said she was the best person anyone could ever work with/for. The sergeant wasn't one to talk, but the boys knew sign, and he had stated how their mother used to treat him like a son before she had left the service when she got pregnant.

Val ended up learning so much about their mother that she honestly wished she had met her. She would have loved to have a mother like that. So involved with her kids and so happy to see them smile.

Mrs. Walker sounded like someone who would have adopted her if she could. She honestly wished that was something that would have happened instead of her meeting her fate at such a young age with boys who weren't even old enough to know what death was and a husband not ready to lose the love of his life.

--

I am so sorry! I never meant for this to get away from me! It was fun to make, but I'm still so very sorry for taking so long!

Taglist: @brokenpieces-72 @rerejunebug

[afairytalestray]

OK so on Saturday I got to go to Milan to see the Cats Il Sistina tour and HOLY GOD IT WAS AWESOME. I'm glad I studied the character designs in advance because a lot of the costumes are really different. I'm not typically a huge fan of nonreplicas but Il Sistina may well change that!

I've compiled my thoughts on the show here! Nb, I do not speak Italian so I'm not sure how close to the original lyrics the translation is 😅

There were no green goggles, but the Cats did come in through the audience. I had an aisle seat and Cassandra walked right past me! She was right there and so beautiful omg.

I've gotta get in right at the start that Simone Ragozzino is my new all-time favourite Mungojerrie. The most ever! A little guy. He got most of the acrobatics that Tumblebrutus usually does - apparently Simone used to be an acrobat/gymnast so that makes sense. He and Rumpleteazer were sufficiently chaotic but also clearly valued and beloved members of the tribe. Idk man Simone just got it. Tumble-jerrie ftw. 

The cathedral from "round the cathedral" was changed to a Colosseum reference which I loved 😍

I'm obsessed with Demeter’s makeup from this tour actually. I'm personally not the biggest fan of cryptid-style makeup and looks in Cats in general, but I feel like Deme was balancing just on the edge and it really worked and I loved it. Maybe it was Viviana Salvo's acting as well - she was fabulous at toeing that line between stunning and unnerving!

Tugger and Munkustrap were super close! Munk was less annoyed by Tugger’s antics than normal and they did this thing at one point where Tugger was holding onto Munk who leant fully backwards off the edge of the stage - it was like a trust exercise and I was a fan. Their rendition of Old Deuteronomy was lovely and their voices worked so good together! Tugger was definitely Munkustrap’s second in command of the tribe. I wish Tugger was a bit more Tugger in appearance, he seemed very yellow with not a lot of detail on his costume, but the personality was hundo p present and accounted for. He did the "bite is worse than your bark" line in Jellicle Songs and legit barked at the end.

Jennyanydots was fabulous! Instead of a big coat she literally wore a giant ball of wool, and one of the props was giant knitting needles and the start of what might have been a giant scarf - it took 6 of the Cats to carry it. It actually worked super well for Milan, which is known for fashion and fabrics - there's even a giant sewing needle sculpture outside Cadorna Station! It was probably a happy coincidence but I enjoyed it!

Victoria's role was changed quite a bit, her solo was totally different and the pas de deux was gone. There also kinda just... wasn't the big small first touch Vic and Grizabella moment, which I was sad about, but if Griz's big moment wasn't "TOUCH MEEEEEE" in the translation, I'm not so bothered by it. I wish Vic had a bit bigger of a role because I love her, but she was killing it whenever she was on stage.

We are all stan pink Jemima, she had such a lovely voice too. Her and Alonzo were playing with a tennis ball during the interval and it was adorable.

My beloved Coricopat and Tantomile were lying in the Mouth of Truth prop after Moments of Happiness; they had their usual role of translating Old Doots through Jemima so I thought their placement here was deliberate! They weren't always fully in sync which I kinda liked, it was like they were allowed to be their own characters rather than just "the twins". I definitely got the impression that Tantomile was the older sister which hella backs up my hcs about her!

Gus was absolutely WILD. He comes in after Jellylorum has done her whole first part of the song in this raggedy old tradiotional Sherlock Holmes-style beige plaid coat instead of being there but kinda out of it the whole time. At first he wasnt keen on replaying any of his roles, but then all the others were like please please please and he relented. I think they were calling him (or his role) Romero? Idk if that's an Italian reference I just don't get? They did Pekes and Pollicles (one of the above had been changed to chihuahuas!) and then the bold Rumpus/Romero appeared... in a red satin bath robe and holding a sabre??? I need to look up this reference! Dude didn't just intimidate the pollicles, he straight up cut a couple of them down with his sword! Grandpa woke up and chose violence 😂

There was no trash train in Skimbleshanks 😭😭 there were giant glowstick things that changed colours though. Skimble and Bustopher were played by the same actor which is a combo I haven't seen before. Skimble was definitely still everyone's favourite train dad, all the characters were totally hyped for his song. HE DID TAP LIKE IN 2019. It was really cool how they did it, all the music stopped and he started a call and response tap dance with some of the other characters. The background showed an animated video of going through a train tunnel, like from the perspective of a train driver! The tap was gradually speeding up and became the sound effects of a train setting off and moving through the tunnel. I'm not explaining this super well but it was SO cool.

The Macavity Fight was quite different. There wasn't him disguised as Old Deuteronomy and then unmasked. What happened was he showed up and caused some shenanigans and then disappeared. There were about 4 of him around, so it looked like he was teleporting around the stage and audience! Bombalurina and Demeter performed his song which was absolutely fantastic (seriously how do these actresses actually manage to dance like that and sing at the same time?? Goddesses), after that he showed up again and the full cast was involved in the fight. Munkustrap still got the good choreography, but the whole tribe was involved trying to protect Old Deuteronomy. Tugger was definitely a protector in this production, he was very involved. Jerrie got KO'd a good few times, and Macavity absolutely destroyed poor Jenny! It felt like all of them were trying to protect their family and I really liked that. Despite that, Macavity was still able to win and successfully kidnap Old Doots!

"Mungojerrie, RUMPLETEAZER, Griddlebone" they let my girl do crime again!

Mistoffelees and Quaxo were besties, and Misto was REALLY enjoying Tugger's song I'm just saying. Delighted to announce Il Sistina Misto was a fruity little guy. He didn't get the terrible bore line, sad face, that went to Quaxo, but tbh idk how they translated that so it could be totally different! At one point Alonzo was holding him back at the start of Tugger’s song! We then saw a sponge-like Misto who picked up behaviours from the others around him, like he wasn't too sure of himself. This is actually one of my favourite Misto hcs so i was so chuffed to see it so clearly. He then helped Alonzo rein George (at least I think it was George!) in from going mental fanboy at Tugger. He was originally curious about Griz but then adjusted to hissing upon seeing the others. This fully went forward into his song. They did some big choreo changes. It was significantly less dance-heavy than traditional Misto performances and had a stronger focus on him being magic. There was a levitating box that they spent a lot of time with - Magician's Assistant Cass got in, but then she didn't disappear? She just popped back out again after the box had been rotated a few times. Some of the Kittens were waving their hands under the box to prove there was nothing holding it up and looking amazed which was adorable though. There was also a bit where Misto put some cards into a hat, the hat got passed down a line of Cats and then at the end they just sort of flew out? Like idk maybe they changed the lyrics where they're describing different magic tricks and it all makes sense! I THOUGHT THE CONJURING TURNS WERE GONE, but they were just moved to the very end of the song and cut down quite a bit.

Ok BUT LISTEN, à la 2019, the poor boy tried and failed twice to bring back Old Deuteronomy and then just sort of flopped in the corner all defeated but then BOYFRIEND TUGGER HELD HIS HANDS AND GOT RIGHT UP CLOSE AND WAS LIKE I BELIEVE IN YOU BABE and omg for real those actors knew EXACTLY what they were doing Tuggoff nation RISE. I'm always a red-sheet-turned-cape stan but I can definitely get behind the sparkly tail coat and playing card bowtie. He also had this handkerchief that he threw up in the air and it became a magic wand. I have no idea how and it was very silly so obviously I loved it. Although I wasn't massively into the choreo changes (ballet dancer Misto 5eva), Pierpaolo Scida was a magnificent Misto and I adored him - he was so cute! The little background actions and looks he did were so in character with how he interpreted Misto! Also he was beautiful you can't change my mind.

Malika was such an intense Grizabella - 10/10. She was proud but so vulnerable. She walked right past me when she first came in and lads, she did the whole show in these massive stilettos - absolute queen. At one point it literally rained on her on stage! During her first Memory, Old Deut was really watching her, and at the end of it he approached her, but she ran off when she saw him. I thought it was a super cool character moment, like she knew she wanted to be accepted, but wasn't quite ready for it. Even after the big Memory and Old Deuteronomy declared her the Jellicle Choice, Victoria approached her, but she was still too scared to let her, and it was Jemima who finally was able to reach her and bring her in. At the end she just kinda disappeared off stage - there were no flying tyres or magic stairs in the circus tent!

During the bit after the bows some of the cats were out in the audience and Tugger scared the absolute crap out of this one woman by poking his head in between her and the person sitting next to her. Iconic. Also during the latter part of the interval the audience was allowed to come up to the edge of the stage where some of the actors were goofing about in character. This mf pretended to cough up a hairball and now I have it on video. I also got some close ups of Teazer and the beautiful Bomba!

The Italian Junkyard was fabulous! It was mostly roman landmarks like Piazza Navona and Bocca della Verità, but there was also Michelangelo's David (which I'm pretty sure is in Florence) above the orchestra! There was also a giant marble foot, an Italian-style water fountain, and a broken column. My favourite prop was the bench, it's elevated at the back left of the stage and the cast were using it like a slide to enter the stage! Also it seemed to be Misto’s preferred location to lounge.

In conclusion, I will never get over this.

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

Prompt-ober 2023 – Mythology and chaste kiss

From the moment Harry first sees the block of marble, he knows what it’s meant to be. He gets it at a discount due to some flaws – not enough dark green striations to look intentional, too many to create a piece using only the pure white marble, a slight crack formed during transport from the quarry. None of them matter to Harry. Once he has it in place in his spartan studio, Harry works like a man possessed to bring his creation to life. His friends, well aware of how Harry gets when he’s sculpting, pop by to bring him food and drink and make him take breaks to sleep. He’s not sure what he’d do without them. Probably die from overwork and malnutrition. He’ll have to do something really nice for them once he’s finished his sculpture. It takes three months of solid, near round-the-clock work to chip the precious but unnecessary stone away from the form he can envision within. The time flies by. He knows he’s never seen the face he’s shaping before, but it seems so familiar to him. If he were to really think about it, he might be able to determine who he’d used as a reference for the chin or the nose or the lips. But looking at the features as they take form, he can’t imagine them any other way. He takes his time with the final polishing, ensuring the sheen and smoothness of the stone appears as perfect as he can make it. The sculpture’s skin almost glows – he’s gotten the translucent lustre just right. Harry stands back and takes in his finished work, removing his apron, pockets heavy with chisels, rasps and sanding paper, and dusting off his worn, ripped jeans.  The figure is seated on an ornate throne, slouching the slightest bit and staring down its aquiline nose at some unseen supplicant. The face is beautiful, but there’s a cruelty to the arch of its brow and the twist of its full lips. Lush, wavy hair frames high cheekbones, leading down to a long neck and broad shoulders. The sculpture’s body is trim and firm, but the musculature isn’t overly defined. Seven dark green veins of varying sizes spiderweb across the figure’s torso and arms. Its feet are planted solidly on the plinth beneath it, arms loose but holding a sword across its lap – covered with carved, draping fabric for modesty, because Harry just couldn’t visualise the sculpture’s bits and, at a certain point, he'd felt decidedly perverted from his continued efforts to do so. He has always been told that his sculptures are full of vitality – that they look ready to step off their plinth and join the world of the living. But even he thinks he’s outdone himself this time. Harry decides to catch a few hours of sleep then give the sculpture one final go-over. Before he puts out the lights and leaves, he wanders over to stare at his creation, looking as an observer rather than the craftsman. He’d been so careful to touch the marble with his bare skin as little as possible, to prevent his skin oils from discolouring the stone. But, just this once, he allows himself to reach out and gently stroke the sculpture’s cheek with the backs of his fingers. Cold and smooth. When Hermione had last popped in to make sure he was eating enough, she’d looked at his sculpture, raised her eyebrows, then looked at Harry and asked if he’d finally carved himself a Galatea. Harry had huffed a laugh – people had been making those sorts of comments to him for years at this point – and asked Hermione about her work at the library. But now, as he rests his hand against the figure’s cheek, he wonders if she’d noticed something he hadn’t. He’ll miss this project more than any other, once it’s sent to the gallery that displays his work. He leans in closer and presses his lips, feather-light, against the figure’s lips, thinking maybe… But he’s no Pygmalion, and the sculpture remains marble beneath his touch. Laughing a little at his fanciful actions, Harry finishes closing up his studio for the day and goes to rest. ──⚝── Hours later, with dawn’s first light illuminating the airborne dust in the studio and no one around to see, a marble finger twitches.

Part two can be read here.

[flame-shadow]

It's a damn shame I don't have my recreation of House of Stairs anymore, but I do have a few pieces from that time. I'll share those as a sort of consolation prize :)

The scorpion is one of my oldest drawings that I was really proud of. I worked so hard on it, and my mom bought a little stand so that it could be displayed on the side counter. Bugs have always been a thing that I like drawing, though I didn't have as many references and resources back then haha. I was probably referencing a couple scorpion illustrations from an animal magazine and my memory of an Animal Planet episode about desert life. [age 8?]

The howling wolf was a huge accomplishment of mine in the field of realism. Though obviously not for the moon... lol. But I remember being quite smug at how much the adults were impressed with this drawing. [age 13]

The painting was done using only a sponge! I believe it was a plein air painting. Or at least, the sketch was done on location. I remember I liked how the wall and river looked and wanted to capture it. I attended a summer art camp for a few days at the local art museum, and we got to learn about art history and were given the chance to try media we might not have known about before. [age 10?]

I so so so wish I had the snail stamp I carved. Or at least some of the prints I made with it. It was really good!! I remember using a clear reference, and I got the spiral of the shell down perfectly. Even the adults were impressed. I am so sad that I don't have any of that art either...

This drawing was a sketch of what became an acrylic painting. When I drew this, it was around the time one of the Harry Potter books had come out, or maybe one of the movies was released? So a lot of people were going nuts about witches and wizards and stuff. WELL NOT ME. This character here is a WIZARD, and I distinctly remember deciding at the time that I would thrown hands with anyone who insisted that she was a witch because she was a girl. I used to loudly announce that she was a wizard before anyone dared think of her as a witch.

Anyway, the painting itself turned out bad (partially due to my inexperience and partially due to needling from the art teacher), and I also distinctly remember throwing it away because I hated it so much. My mom usually tried to save my art even if I didn't like it at the time, but she knew how much I hated it and how frustrating the process had been, so she didn't even try to convince me to keep the painting. [age 13]

I drew the lizard based off a painted wooden sculpture that my neighbor had. I have no idea where she got it from or what artist/culture to credit for the inspiration, but I put a lot of effort into the final version you see here (I had done studies and multiple messed up drawings before getting to this "perfect" one). Then I drew an armadillo that I think was partially inspired by another sculpture the neighbor had, but I took more creative liberties with it. Maybe I drew it partially from memory? Unsure. But it's charming too. [age 10]

[rhyo-writes]

What Makes a Monster; Prologue

As the title suggests, this is an intro to a new series I've decided to write; my take on the Sinclair twins (House of Wax 2005) and their childhood.

Length: 1k

Fandom: House of Wax 2005

Warnings: references to physical and emotional abuse towards children, allusions to murder and torture, this is a HoW fic so take that as warning

If you asked Bo Sinclair what the biggest lie in Ambrose was, you’d probably expect to hear something about the image of a perfect and loving family his mother was so desperate to achieve. The pretense Trudy was so sure the town would believe if her boys would just behave, if they showed up to church every Sunday, if Bo would just be like his brother. And he might at first be tempted to say that, but it simply wasn’t true, even if technically the biggest lie was about his family, and if it technically was about their perfection. But despite these technicalities, it had nothing to do with the loving facade Trudy so desperately pushed. No, this lie concerned Bo’s other half, his mother’s favorite twin, the little artist following in his mother’s footsteps, the model child that Trudy showered with praise, just as oblivious as the rest of the town to the truth.

Vincent was the lie, the golden boy facade as false as the mask he always wore, and the truth just as mangled as what lay underneath. It made Bo angry, this whole good-twin bad-twin game they’d been thrust into, the endless comparisons, the idolization of his brother, when Bo knew that Vincent was just as twisted as he was. Maybe even more so. 

Sure, Bo lashed out. He had a violent temper, and he was quick with his fists, using violence to solve any problem thrust upon him, but that was common knowledge. Everyone knew Bo was a problem, a difficult child, a delinquent, his future a criminal record stretching longer than any list of achievements he could make. Everyone knew of the raging fire burning in his soul, ready to send him over the edge at any second. Even Trudy had given up pretending to love him, whining about her horrid son to her church friends. Everyone saw Bo for who he was, but no one truly saw Vincent.

If Bo was a raging fire, then Vincent was a deceptively calm ocean, serene upon inspection, but with an ever present barrage of deadly currents, hidden just below the surface, invisible until it was far too late for the errant swimmer. Sure, the other kids thought he was a freak, and the adults whispered that he was a bit strange, but they chalked it up to a hard start, to his deformities, to his horrid twin. And sure, their classmates never bullied Vincent the way they did Lester, disturbed by the drawings in Vincent’s sketchbook, saving him from the full force of their hatred up front. But they had no clue just how far that disturbance went, or how dangerous Vincent could be. They had no clue that every day their choice to shun him over outright violence kept them alive, or that the disappearance of the one boy who destroyed Vincent’s work was more than a coincidence.

But Bo knew, how could he not. He knew Vincent, the mirror to his own self, a reflection, perhaps backwards in presentation, but with a soul just as filled with rot and decay as his own. Bo knew that the sculptures of squirrels, rats, mice, and the occasional bat that crowded the shelves of Lester’s room weren’t realistic solely due to Vincent’s skill, but in part as a result of the rotting corpses underneath, an armature not for the squeamish. Bo knew that the stomach churning drawings that filled page after page of Vincent’s sketchbook weren’t the nightmares they were passed off as, but the dark fantasies that lurked like cobwebs etched into his brother’s soul.

And in some dark corner of his brain, Bo Knew that he had to act out, he had create enough chaos and destruction for the two of them, because if he didn’t, the things Vincent would do would be so much worse, and there wouldn’t be enough shadowed crevices or overturned trees in the world to hide the slew of bodies that would follow his brother.

Bo loved Vincent, he really did, but sometimes, a part of him wished that his perfect twin would get in trouble the way he did, for his mother to realize that her precious baby was just as much a freak, they were twins after all, two sides of the same coin.  “It’s not fair,” he wanted to scream, “he’s just as awful, just as horrible,” but try as he might to relay the obvious, that they were identical in both mind and body, no one would listen. His mother would backhand him, furious, for how dare he speak that way about her precious little angel, and Bo would go to bed hungry, seething, trying to tell himself he preferred an empty stomach to the hell that was family dinner. 

Years later he’d watch victims plead with Vincent, convinced that they just had to get through the web of lies they thought Bo had strung, and that if they could Vincent would help them. These small minded people, dumb with fear, oblivious to the inherent cruelty of Vincent’s work, pleading for their lives as if they were more than a step of the creative process, convinced that Vincent must feel sorry for them. He was the tortured artist, he wanted to save them, he hated killing, delusions that made Bo laugh before he’d smash in their faces.

Little did they know that he was far from complicit, in fact, Vincent lived for the feeling of blood on his hands. Nothing quite got the gears of his brain turning like a fresh face to work with, a fresh canvas awaiting his vision. Because Bo was not the mastermind behind the hell Ambrose had become, as much as he’d love to give himself credit. Bo never had much of a vision for the future, for what they could create, but he had someone who did. Someone just as cruel and sadistic, someone happy to help cover Bo’s tracks if it meant he could create his art. No, Bo was not the one behind the town of wax, Vincent was. 

[heehoee]

WILDEST DREAMS (hana’s version)

word count: 1.1kish?

a/n: so “hana’s version” means that i’m writing this heavily based on taylor’s music video, but also with my own hcs. also this is purely for entertainment purposes, though mostly just a writing practice for me since i haven’t written since ages. also, thanku @trashmeowcan for helping me warna i would’ve still been overthinking abt this ILYSM. gif creds to @komhacoustic !!

warnings: too many taylor references and lots of cringe too teehee

hope you enjoy!

[ lights , camera and ... action !! ]

he was so perfect.

his eyes were such a startling shade of grey—that if you look closely, you’d see the emotion twisting in them, swirling behind those dark clouds. his lips tasted like the cigarettes he smoked and his voice had been frequenting  my dreams lately. all of him, his face, his jaw, his shoulder—he was the most beautiful sculpture i’d ever seen.

he whispered to me, “let’s get out of this town, drive out of the city, away from the crowds...”

i was screaming internally, thinking of the implication of his words in a wordless script when the director yelled cut.

of course we were pretending.

of course, none of it was true.

. . .

we were shooting in the african deserts, and it was a short film about the magic, madness, heaven and sin that was love.

on the day we arrived to the location, the director had explained the script and the portrayal of love that this film wanted to show, the same as she had done on the phone call. she explained how our chemistry would be the magic, the madness would be evident when both of us would be ready to leave the life we knew to start a new one with each other, heaven would be when he’d touch me and sin because our love was forbidden in the script—he was a pilot, and i was an actress. the entire film had no dialogues or as the director said, our expressions will “say all that is needed to know”.

it was two week’s work and then we’d be out of the scorching dry deserts of sahara. that was the plan. at least until i met him.

after i did, i knew i’d gladly burn in this heat for a few more weeks —or even an entire lifetime— than letting go of him. i’d risk it all smiling.

it was absolute madness.

. . .

our characters were crazy in love.

he, the pilot, had flown miles just to see the actress for a few hours everyday, while she worked on her new movie. the pilot is tall and handsome as hell, while the actress is beautiful, and has such an irresistible charm that the pilot cannot help but fall for her humor and wits.

we were the perfect casting, although the others kept saying it would be fairly difficult to show it all in expressions, no words at all.

but for me, it proved to be fairly easy. i was lovestruck, and there was no hiding it from him because he knew it. he had to, from the way he smiled and the way he touched me, or maybe i was simply delusional.

probably the latter, but oh well. it was all a pretend anyways. none of it was real.

it could be though.

. . .

it was pure magic.

the way he looked at me, the way he held me close and how my knees felt weak after our first kiss onscreen.

i felt every moment of it. goosebumps on the back of my neck whenever he whispered in my ear. his fingertips grazing my skin, and when he held me close, his hand on my waist.

i lived those moments a thousand times and i’m sure he did too, he must have.

so i took my chance and said, “no one has to know what we do,” and no one did. what we did in my tent at night was no one’s business, and nobody had the slightest clue.

all i know is that i woke up with his clothes in my room, and the vague memory of his hands in my hair, his body on mine. i knew heaven was a place on earth, with him, in his arms.

. . .

we were lying on the bed, our bodies a tangled mess and the clothes thrown on the ground in a hurry. his hand caressed my waist and i peered through the tiny window of the tent, at the nighttime stars and thought.

i thought of the dangerous game i was playing and how one week is no time at all. blink, and it would all be over.

but oh, he was kissing my neck and i couldn’t think straight. he was definitely going to be the death of me.

. . .

“ready for the last scene?” he took my hand and whispered to me.

“yes,” i smiled a little. “are you?”

he gave me a sad smile and said, “maybe..”

and the camera started rolling. the actress was in a stunning red dress, with her hair pinned up masterfully by her movie stylist—she’d sneaked out of the movie set to meet him—and the pilot was in his uniform, all ready to go. the sun was slipping down the horizon, and the clouds were streaked in a beautiful mess of warm colors in the sky whilst the moon rose, accompanied by the barely visible stars, scattered like peppers.

his face changed ever so slightly, as he conveyed that he needed to go but didn’t want to. he tucked a loose strand of my hair and i knew what it meant—he loved me too much to give what we had away willingly. i stared painfully at him, then at the ground. the actress didn’t want to let go of her lover either.

a few moments later, he smiled and lifted my chin, conveying that the distance would just create fondness between the two. their love is stronger than anything and the actress knows too, so she smiles back, sweet and soft.

they have their very last kiss and the actress worries if her lover would remember her, the memories they have together and this very moment. and so i spoke with my eyes, “say you’ll remember me, standing in a nice dress, staring at the sunset, babe...”

she made him promise they’ll meet again, and that would be soon.

“red lips and rosy cheeks, say you’ll see me again, even if it’s just in your wildest dreams ah-ahh…”

. . .

it was the premiere night.

i was in my vintage off-shoulder, sparkling silver with a heavy white scarf and my hair up in an updo similar to my hairstyle in the short film.

i was dressed as my character, the enchantress.

the moment i arrived at the red carpet, cameras were flashing and i was smiling. i was seeing him again tonight, so the smile was genuine. at least until i saw him, with her.

we talked a little, and he introduced his new girlfriend and i smiled wide. and when she complimented my acting in my past movies, i smiled even wider and thanked her.

little did she know, what she was about to see wasn’t me acting. not even close.

we entered the cinema hall and the short film began. it was a 90’s romance, all black and white.

halfway through the movie, i realized i was done smiling. i leaned ahead in my seat and we made subtle eye-contact before i turned and left the hall, murmuring about a sick stomach.

the moment i stepped out, i felt something wet on my cheek and ran as fast as i could wearing a vintage dress, my heels clicking furiously. i knew he was following me, trying to stop me from leaving and i knew that but by the time he’d reach me, he’d be too late.

in the backseat of my car, i wondered about how we were built to fall apart.

hope u liked it!! also i’m writing after, like, 6 months or more so i promise i can do better than this shit lol

likes and reblogs are appreciated !! <3

tagging ppl who might be interested:

@cordelia-street @born-to-be-suburban-legends @indiansapphic @girlatreus @tiredandcaffeinated @prembharidhun @maya-why @carelikeribbonsinyourhair @shefollowedthestars @folkloregurl @doyouknowwhoyouare13 @manjulika-fanblog

might make a taglist too later so we msg me if u want to be tagged/removed xx

[ladytesla]

The Great Faerun Baking Show (part three)

For those of you who are just stopping by, I had a horrible idea a while ago and this is the result. I have no idea what's going to happen or who's going to win. I’m just going to roll a D20 ‘bake check’ for everyone and write out the results, including what everyone rolled so y’all know I’m not cheating just so my druid boyfriend can win.  The person with the lowest total score (out of a possible score of 60) goes home.

We've got the main 6 companions, Jaheira, Halsin, Minsc (and Boo), Minthara, Dammon, and my tav Medora (who y'all can just pretend is Alfira if you don't want someone else's tav in the story, since they're both female bards)

Week One, Cake Week: Star baker was Karlach, Minthara went home

Week Two, Biscuit Week: Star baker was Halsin, Shadowheart went home

Week Three: Bread Week, or "No you can't use Mage Hand to knead your dough"

Signature: Cottage Loaf

Astarion: Sun dried tomato and paprika. Unfortunately somehow he never turned on his oven, so all he had when time was called was a big ball of dough that wasn't able to be judged.

Dammon: Greek spices and olives. Or whatever the Faerun equivalent of Greece is. Maybe Waterdeep? Anyway, there were a few too many olives and it was a little underbaked, but it wasn't too bad.

Gale: He really wanted to keep with a magical purple theme, but ube and red onion really don't vibe with each other. It was way overworked thanks to the mage hand he totally didn't use to help with the kneading process.

Halsin: Rosemary and wild mushroom. All of which he'd gathered himself, of course. Nearly perfectly done, and beautifully decorated with little sprigs of rosemary.

Jaheira: Cinnamon pumpkin bread. Very autumnal, but the moisture in the pumpkin threw off the consistency of the dough and left it underprooved. The decorative pumpkin seeds on top could only hide so many sins.

Karlach: Jalapeño cheddar. Just the right amount of heat, from someone who's an expert on it. She even decorated it with a few slices of jalapeño for presentation.

Lae'zel: For some reason she decided to put smoked salmon, herring and tuna in the same bread to make a fish loaf? It was also underbaked, and didn't go over well at all.

Medora: Saffron, rose and pistachio bread. The rose was a bit too overpowering, and the loaf was overworked. It looked nice, though.

Minsc: He used Indian spices in his bread like garam masala and curry powder, which gave it a really unique flavor. It was slightly overprooved, but overall a successful loaf.

Wyll: Gluten-free garlic and herb. He wanted to challenge himself to make a classic flavor more available to those with dietary restrictions (because he is a Very Good Boy) and it was a resounding success. He earned a Hollywood Handshake for his efforts.

Technical: Baguettes

I was surprised to find that the lowest roll for this round was an 8! So they all did pretty well. I think that, from now on, if there's a tie I'll roll for them a second time. The second roll won't contribute to the score at all, it'll just determine the order in the technical.

Worst to best:

10. Halsin

9. Dammon

8. Astarion

7. Karlach

6. Minsc

5. Jaheira

4. Lae'zel

3. Wyll

2. Medora

Gale

Showstopper: Bread Sculpture

Astarion: He recovered from his disastrous signature round to make a masterfully-done sculpture... of himself, with a dagger in one hand and a glass of wine in another. He had to reference the face from a sketch someone had made of him, but thankfully it had been a skilled artist. Paul and Prue had to look really hard to find a flaw.

Dammon: He made a bread dinosaur. A stegosaurus, to be exact. And thanks to its sturdy bread-roll legs, it was able to stand upright unaided. The tip of the tail got a bit burnt, and to save it he'd had to take it out of the oven underbaked.

Gale: He made Elminster's hat, and colored the bread with paprika and cayenne to get the red color. It ended up being quite lopsided, unfortunately, and overworked.

Halsin: His owlbear was incredibly detailed, and the garlic chip decorations he used for some of the feathers accented the flavor of the bread wonderfully. Some of the chips had browned a bit too much on the ends however, so it wasn't perfect, but it was close.

Jaheira: She had a rough time this round. Dropped one of her doughs so she only had two to work with and underbaked her sculpture of a tree so badly that it had to be propped up to stand upright.

Karlach: She made a tower of bread skulls, with one of four different flavors. And tiny grassini breadsticks to represent swords and spears. A mammoth undertaking that she pulled off very well.

Lae'zel: Unhappy about her gingerbread dragon, she was bound and determined to make a dragon right this time. And thankfully, she succeeded. Otherwise she would have continued to make dragons until she got it right. The bread was quite spicy and had chili peppers in it for good measure, but the heat wasn't overpowering at all.

Medora: She attempted to make a lighthouse on an island. It was really precariously tilted to one side, and the bread making the lighthouse was underbaked, but the bread the island was made of tasted fine.

Minsc: He made a giant bread version of Boo the Miniature Giant Space Hamster. Which he presented next to the real thing. It was a huge loaf of bread so it was underbaked in the middle, but it was visually impressive.

Wyll: His bread version of the Ravenguard family crest had a braided border which took a lot of time. However, with the added colors in the dough to bring the crest to life, Wyll was still able to make something delicious and very nicely baked within the time constraints.

The Results:

Our star baker for the week, with a score of 52/60, is Wyll!

Unfortunately, with a score of 23/60, Jaheira has to leave the tent.

Feel free to play along in the comments! How would your tav or favorite npc compare?

Let's fuckin go we're doing pies and tarts next.

[beatricebidelaire]

speculations. no logic just ramblings. sugar bowl. dismal dinner. etc. do not trust anything i say.

anyway.

so the 4 parts of the dismal dinner, the event was described (highlights mine)

(part 1) My discovery of a puddle of water suggests that Violet, the oldest Baudelaire child, invented something at the dinner party held at the Baudelaire mansion quite some time before it burnt to the ground. Crackers with meat and cheese were served, and at least two guests were disguised as desserts.

(part 2) My discovery of a singed page of “Taking the Teeth Out of Teething” confirms that Klaus, the middle Baudelaire child, was in attendance at his parents’ fourth-to-last dinner party. Like the guest disguised as the ice sculpture, Klaus wore a bowtie, which involves a very simple knot that is very complicated to create.

(part 3) My discovery of a torn pant leg shows that Sunny, an infant and the youngest Baudelaire child, played a key role in the dinner party held at the Baudelaire mansion quite some time before it was reduced to a smoking pile of rubble.

(part 4) Recent discoveries support my suspicions about the fateful event hosted by the Baudelaire parents before their death.

we can reasonably conclude that the 4 parts are all referring to the same dinner party / same night bc the events described in each part (sunny teething and crying and shrieking, violet inventing something to ease sunny's pain, klaus what he read on teething, etc) the timing description from part 1, 3, 4 were all a big vague but from part 2 we know this is the fourth-to-last dinner party of b&b.

we also know that olaf was lurking outside at this 4th to last dinner party (from sunny's shriek's double meaning and lemony's secret message from the end of each letter OLAFWASTHERE). a sugar bowl was being used, and passed around at the dining table.

is this sugar bowl The Sugar Bowl, let's assume, for the moment, yes.

thinking about, how many dinner parties did olaf spy on, was it just this one, or more. had beatrice always been using the sugar bowl at her dinner parties? was this something she did regularly? all those dinner parties the kids remembered, the sugar bowl was always there?

or, even though beatrice was the one who stole the sugar bowl from esme, the bowl hadn't been in her possession for a while, until recently it came back to her again. because the dismal dinner seemed to imply the sugar bowl being at the dinner party and seen by olaf was why the baudelaires' mansion got burnt down. but if beatrice had always had the sugar bowl, wouldn't the sugar bowl pursuers moved in sooner? unless they didn't know. except beatrice was the one to steal it and esme knew that. perhaps people spent years trying to hunt down the sugar bowl and thought it was elsewhere, when in fact it's been with beatrice all along, and she uses it at dinner parties.

then again, perhaps it's just been back in beatrice's possession once again, after not being with her for a while - perhaps with another volunteer, or hidden away somewhere far away. why was it passed back to beatrice again, now of all times? in fact, did she just receive it at this dinner party as a "gift", before the party started? at least two of the guests were disguised as desserts, at least one an ice sculpture. is this some theme? is this a regular occurrence at b&b's dinner parties? is this one special, did specific people need to hide there identities?

if this is The Sugar Bowl, which was at the baudelaire mansion at the 4th-to-last dinner party, where was it ..... after the mansion burnt down. olaf and esme were trying to chase after it in the later books, so they didn't have it. well, unless they had it and lost it again. (Second Time Esme Squalor Lost The Sugar Bowl, Wait Until The Readers Of Daily Punctilio Hear About This!)

but maybe i'm thinking about it wrong. perhaps beatrice didn't just receive the sugar bowl again. maybe it's the opposite. she's always had it, and at that dinner party olaf found out about it, by spying outside. she found out he knew (alerted by an associate, or having received a direct threat from olaf/esme saying I'm Going To Take The Sugar Bowl Back), so she acted quick, and hide it somewhere else / sent it to someone she trusted. that was why olaf and/or esme didn't find it after the mansion burnt down. while it's not confirmed that olaf did set the fire, there's pretty strong evidence that he was there at the mansion on that day, regardless if he was actually the one who burnt the house down. perhaps he was there to negotiate / threaten / search for the sugar bowl, and did not find it.

because beatrice sent it away.

i keep coming back to the dinner party. was it a regular thing for the sugar bowl to be used, or a special case for that specific party? should i read more into the guests disguised as desserts? maybe beatrice kept the sugar bowl hidden all these years, in her own home, but olaf thought it was elsewhere for the longest time, but certain events led her to believe he may suspect she in fact has it. so she decided to pass this to another safe place (the disguised guests were vfd volunteers), and olaf happened to witness the sugar bowl being out on the dinner table. but he didn't know it was being passed and thought beatrice still retained it, after the party. or he knew but he needed to ask beatrice where had she hide the bowl / who did she gave the bowl to, so he went to the mansion the day it burnt down. perhaps he burnt the place down in a rage after he didn't find it / she wouldn't tell him. perhaps he left and the house was later burnt down by someone else.