#their relationship transcends words indeed

[dadrielle]

Do you ever think about Laudna's Lullaby and specifically the line "If you listen my heart beats occasionally/And the silence is where you reside" and have to lie down about it because of just how much silences are important to understanding Imogen and Laudna and their relationship?

#there are so many things they don't have to say #because they understand each other so well #their challenge now is figuring out which things can't JUST be left to that understanding you know? #they're working on it #they'll get there #critical role #imogen temult #laudna #imodna #southern gothic #cr3 #ok no wait I'm not done #because the other thing! #Is what they were both after - their quests - was silence! #Imogen seeking silence from all of the voices she can't help hearing #silencing her dreams #Laudna seeking to silence Delilah's voice #but in the silence they still seek each other #their relationship transcends words indeed #fuck meeee I'm verklempt

[chibsandchill]

See me

Fandom: Saltburn 

Pairing: Felix x AFAB!Reader 

Summary: Each room in Saltburn is bursting at the seam with memories with you, and Felix remembers some of his favorite moments as he makes his way to his prize. 

Warnings: Felix, Mentions and descriptions of acts of violence and murder, NSFW content, MDNI, 18+, unreliable narrator (Felix), toxic relationship, obsessive tendencies, grammatical and spelling errors, p in v sex, oral sex (m receiving), Felix is a creep, themes of violence - self-harm and equivalent themes are prevalent through the imagine, some parts of their dynamic takes inspiration from Hannigram but with my spin on obsession

I am not responsible for your media consumption. Read the tags. 

MDNI

Masterlist

:-:-:-:-:-:-:

It’s a cloudy day when Felix first saw you,

but with you came the sun, 

warmth, empathy, love. 

Oh, how he loved your heart. But, oh, how careless you were with it. It was a gift, 

one meant for him, 

from you. 

Then why did you waste it on those beneath you? You chipped away at it to mend sobbing students, tore at it until it bled and thick scars rose like mountains. You took on their pain with a blindingly bright smile, 

only Felix saw how their burdens weighed you down. 

The sun was meant to warm, to burn from far away, 

but they tore you down from your place in the sky so that they might leech your warmth until you are left barren. Their sorrows were cold as ice against you. 

They stole you from him. Piece by piece they ripped at you with filthy nails. You became known on campus as someone who’d listen. Who wouldn’t judge. How could you when you felt their problems as if they were your own? The more they spoke those words dripping with poison, the more they tainted the very blood in your veins with their darkness. 

‘Walk in their shoes’. 

You didn’t need to. You could walk in their skin, feel their emotions as if they were yours. Heartbreak plagued you, sorrow fell on you like an ever present shadow. The death of a family not yours turned your face gray and your eyes misty.

Until Felix put a stop to it all. How could he stand by and watch it happen? The slow destruction of a bright star, who burned so bright that all envied it. 

Jenny from history of art, Carl from math, Robert from physics, Matilda from psychology, Caroline, Jeremy, Han, Thomas, Harry, Derek, Henry, Linda, Nico, Mark, John, Hans, William, Frederic. All turned away at your door. 

“Yes, I’ll tell her.”

“I’ll let her know.”

“Sure thing, buddy.”

Oh, how they believed his lies. Sweet, sweet, Felix Catton wouldn’t lie to them. Surely not. 

But lie, he did. It spewed from his lips like honey. All to have his sun beam at him again. To wash away the taint of the others from your skin, your heart, your eyes. He would have you look at him with soft, relaxed eyes. 

Him. Him. Him. Him.

Your protector. Even if you didn’t know it yet. 

“Felix.” 

He hummed. 

Your eyes are heavy with sleep when you look up at him, but the affection is hard to miss. It makes you glow. Felix curled his arm further around you, bringing you closer to him. But even then it is not close enough. He aches. It’s a want deeper than skin, deeper than bones or even his soul. It was as if his very being was made of want, of longing so intense he was blinded by it. If God was indeed real then he had created Felix with a thread laced with obsession, with love transcending all else. 

Even thinking about you made his heart race, pound. 

“Can I braid your hair?” 

“‘Course.” He said against your skin. 

As if you needed to ask. All of him was yours. 

You try to sit up but Felix isn’t ready to break the contact yet. He feels like a battery, no matter how bizarre a comparison it is, constantly needing to be recharged so that he might survive when you part. He’s constantly cold without you, he feels empty; hollow. His hands are too light with the lack of you, he breathes too easy without the weight of you on his chest. If he could he’d carve his heart out so that you could carry it with you, for that was how he felt anyway. He’d gouge himself hollow so that he could fit you inside. Never to be parted again, joined together by shared blood, flesh and bone. 

It’s not easy with his hold on you, but you manage to shift so that you sit in his lap instead. It’s not ideal if you mean to truly braid his hair but Felix won’t complain. He pushed his head into your touch when your fingers hover over him. 

“Patience.” You half-heartedly scold him. 

Your fingers weave through his hair, nails scratching just right against his scalp. With deft hands you untangle the mess you’d created during the night. There’s not much to braid but more than enough for you to wrap around your fingers and tug. The action pulls a low groan from his throat. 

He grabs your hips. Felix wonders if you’ve noticed how he’s caged you in. You probably don’t, as sweet and trusting a being as you surely wouldn’t peel back his layers to gasp at the thriving darkness beneath. With you he was his truest self. Could you see him? Would you run if he were to cast off the layers? Let you see him? 

Maybe you already could. You had seen the others. Even the empty ones, the ones who had gouged themselves hollow and shoved the essence of what they thought he wanted until it spilled from every hole in their body. 

Felix wasn’t hollow. He was bursting at the seams with life, same as you. And yet you stayed. Surely you knew. You had to. You and he were one. Two pieces of a whole finally reunited. 

He breaths in your scent, noses along your throat before allowing his head to rest in the crook of your neck. There’s a bruise there hidden on your shoulder blade. Late one night when you’d already fallen asleep he mouthed it into your skin with the moon as his witness, 

only, 

it had started to fade. 

He’d have to do it again. Closer. Marking you under the cover of darkness wasn’t enough anymore. An unspoken claim didn’t satisfy him anymore. It wasn’t enough. He was beginning to think it never would be. He could bruise every inch of your skin with his love and his skin would still itch to do more – to prove himself more to you.  

Just as his hands slide down to rest on the curve of your ass the scene slips through his fingers like sand. 

He blinks it away. He’s standing in the driveway of Saltburn. Your favorite statue is left in shambles on the gravel with his blood splattered across the white marble. 

“What the fuck.” Felix’s hand shakes and burns with pain. His knuckles are split open. 

It had been a slip of a thought he had once when you first came to Saltburn and you’d taken to leaning on the statues, the furniture, walls, pillars. He’d wanted them all gone. He’d be your pillar. He wouldn’t crumble with age, would never make you think they stood strong only for the core to be riddled with holes from pests.

Felix was whole and strong, had made himself such, 

for you. 

He’d burnt the tendrils of influence his mother had dug into him since childhood. Torn the threads of her darkness right out of the tapestry. Oh, how she cried when she noticed. ‘Felix,’ she’d whispered, a rare show of emotion plastered across her face, ‘what have you done?’. 

She shouldn’t have worried about what he had done. No, she should’ve worried about what he was going to do. 

He watched you for weeks before approaching you. He noticed what made you laugh, what made you smile, frown, scowl. And so he took that too. Cut out the parts of himself that would drop the smile from your face and sewed on the parts that he lacked until he was left a patch-work version of perfecting befitting a Mary Shelley novel. Pus and blood seeped from the stitches. The sight was unseemly. So he waited until he’d perfected himself, until the stolen was assimilated, until it was like another Felix had never existed. 

Felix throws the heavy doors open and the maids scurry away from his sight. 

Duncan emerges from the pack. Even after all he’d seen, his adoration for Felix remained. “Welcome back, Felix.” 

He nods. 

And then he’s off. 

The route he takes is reminiscent of your first tour of the mansion. He’s even nodding along as if hearing himself introduce it all. The staircase where he “fingered” his cousin. As if. Your face had reddened with equal parts jealousy and sheer disbelief of ‘what the fuck’. 

One of the smaller sitting rooms. The green one. He fucking hates that room. But you love it. He went down on you for the first time there. Right on the couch with his granny’s ghost knocking down a shelf of antique plates over his head. The blood had driven you crazy. 

The thought alone made him hard. 

But this was also the first room you’d held him properly in. He’d been crying. 

“What's wrong?” You ask when he threw the door open. 

You’d been doing some summer reading for uni, but your fingers clutched the opening pages with strength that betrayed your pounding headache. 

“Fucking Ollie.” 

Your brows furrow “Oliver?”

Felix lay down on the couch with his head in your lap. You smell good. And you’re soft. 

“Yeah.” He sigh. “He was lying to us this whole time. Turns out poor Oliver Quick has both a dad and mum who loves him. Even siblings! They live in a lovely house in a picture perfect neighborhood.”

‘I just need you to understand how much I fucking love you!’

As if there was even a sliver of Felix that didn’t belong to you, that didn’t scream out for you every second you were apart. Had Oliver not been paying attention? Could he not see the need that permated him? It ran so deep, was so all-consuming that he couldn’t contain it all. He breathed desire, cried longing, even fucking pissed envy. Envy even over the very air you breathed, the clothing that hugged you, the sheets for the audacity to imply he wasn’t enough to keep you warm. 

You hum as your fingers drift down to cup his face. 

“He was in love with me.” 

“Isn’t everyone?” You joke. 

Felix’s eyes opened (he hadn’t realized he closed them). “You love me?”

“Of course.” You trace a scar on his cheekbone. 

“Say it.” 

“I love you, Felix.”

Even that memory fades, but your words linger. 

I love you, Felix. 

You always linger. Your kisses burn his skin and he wishes it left a scar so that he could look upon it and relive it all. 

The green room is abandoned quickly, and he’s off. 

“A blue room!” You exclaim, and to Felix’s displeasure you let go of him to take it all in. 

“Yeah. It’s… blue.” 

“What? No ghosts? No artifacts?”

Felix shakes his head. “Nope. Just blue.”

Felix sees himself leaning against the door while you spin around the room. It’s like a movie, almost. Only it’s his memories and he can remember every second he’s ever spent in your presence. Including this one. And the next one. 

The one where you’re on your knees.

You’re pressing soft kisses to the tip of his cock, pressing your love into every inch of skin you can find as if you wanted to stay there, to have your love replace the tar that ran through his veins. 

It’s odd. He can almost feel the tingles left by your touch, but he’s untouched. Felix’s hands form fists at the sight. Was it possible to be jealous even of himself? The envy boiling in his stomach certainly said so. He would not share you even with himself. 

Felix strides forward and sinks into the place his past self sits. He unbuckles his jeans and frees his cock from his underwear. If he were not so deep in madness he might’ve felt the cold of the room, but he was, and so he felt the warmth of your hands, the wetness of your mouth as you wrap your lips around his tip. 

He moans. He didn’t know what he liked the most about it. The vulnerability, the act itself, your presence, or that it left you with a part of him inside you. You’d kneel in front of him for as long as it took, but Felix would not have you be uncomfortable and so he slid a pillow under your knees. 

Your hands cup his balls. He twitches. You take more of him into you. It feels like heaven to have you wrap yourself around him. Wet, warm, silky heaven. All for him. 

Him. Him. Him. Him. His. 

You moan around him. It sends vibrations straight through him. It pulls a low groan straight from his chest, one that makes you moan. His pleasure is your pleasure, and your pleasure is his, and so the circle begins. 

His eyes roll into the back of his head when you begin bobbing your head up and down. You slurp. Electricity runs down his spine. It’s wet. Sloppy. Saliva drips down your mouth as you press your nose into his abdomen. 

Someone drops a plate somewhere in the house and the spell is broken. Not unlike a reflection in a lake is the memory distorted, wrong. You’re on your knees without the pillow. He’s standing above you, not sitting. Your knees are bruised and bleeding. You’re crying. 

Some small part of him, one that he’d allowed to fester for far too long, enjoys the scene. Enjoys the submission, thrives in the knowledge that it is not only he that longs and wants and would press and press until nothing remains if only to bring you a sliver of happiness. You smile around his cock. It’s not the pain that brings you to tears. 

This isn’t right. This isn’t him. It’s Elspeth messing with his head. It’s Oliver whispering his lies in his ear. 

He wants to vomit. Why would they punish him so? To make him see you hurt, 

to force him to see himself hurt you, brutalize you, 

humiliate you. 

Why, when he adored you, worshiped you. If there was a puddle he’d lay himself down to let you walk over him. He’d drown himself so that you would not have to dirty yourself. Like a tumor he’d performed surgery after surgery to remove what you didn’t like. 

And you did the same. 

The image is restored, but he’s already on his feet. 

He would wait no longer. 

Felix runs up the stairs but is forced to a halt by the moans coming from the king’s bedroom. Another memory? The door is already open. 

“Tell me your vows again.” 

You’ve got your legs up in the air behind you, head resting in your hands as you stare at him. 

“Dear,” Felix turns around from where he stood by the window. Your name sounds like prayer on his lips. “I’ve never been alone. People have flocked to me since before I can remember. But they didn’t see me. But you… you, I let you see me. It’s a rare gift. And it’s one that I’ve never regretted giving you. I’ve never felt more loved than in your arms. Do I need to continue, Mrs Catton?” 

You laugh. 

“Come to bed, Felix.”

The memory changes before he can enjoy the sight of you in your wedding dress. The happiest day of his life. Gone in a blink. 

You’re no longer on the bed. You’re in his arms, crying yet again. There’s blood on his shirt. No finger graces your finger. Felix closes his eyes. He knows this memory. KNows very well what he’d have to endure to get back to you. 

“Y-you killed him!” You shudder. 

Felix shushes you. “There was no other way.”

“There’s always another way.”

“Not this time." 

Truly, there wasn’t. You saw much, but Oliver was so good at pretending to be someone else that he even fooled himself into believing his own lies. And so, you thought nothing of it when Oliver offered you his bottle of wine. Had no idea of the drugs that he’d shoved in there. 

“Are you scared of me?” Felix asks you. His voice shakes. He remembers his own fear, how his stomach churned. He could write a thousand words and not even chip at the surface of the emotions he felt. A thrill at the thought of you finally seeing the deepest deepest parts of him? Disgust that he’d slipped and revealed a crack in his mask? Such fear that it clung to his very bones, stopped his lungs from working and had his own eyes water with tears? All true. And yet all of them are false. There wasn’t a single emotion he could place, they all blended together to form a concoction of heart-wrenching pain and fear. 

The memory fades away. He doesn’t remember the rest. All he remembers is how it ended. 

The headboard bangs against the wall with the force of his thrusts. His hands are cradling your face, kissing away the tears of pleasure. You push your legs up higher on his back where you’ve hitched them, your own hands pressing against his own face to bring him closer. He’s inside you but he’s not close enough. 

Felix leans down to cover your whole body with his. You squeak at the change. 

“Oh god,” you throw your head back with a moan. 

He moves a deft finger down to press down on your clit. He experimented with pressure, directions, even spelled out his own name with your pleasure. Felix feels as though he’s on fire, but still he wants more. He wants to be closer. Closer. Closer. Closer. 

You clench around his cock, and he stutters. 

The love in your eyes makes him falter, before he drives into you faster than before. The bed squeaks, one hard thrust away from breaking. Fitting. So is he. Your right hand moved up his cheekbone, past his ear and to the back of his head. Your touch is gentle, barely-there pressure as you guide him down to slant your mouth over his. His heart aches with love, adoration, you. You’ve made it your home. 

Yet again he is denied release as the memory is gone. The room is empty. 

“Fuck.”

It’s not graceful the way he stalks out of the room. No more interruptions, he thinks. 

The last door in the corridor. Yours. And his. Your marital chambers, as Duncan would call it. Old fashioned bastard. 

He pushes it open without as much as a knock. And there you are. 

“Felix!” You cross the room in seconds and then you’ve thrown yourself in his arms. “We missed you!”

Your rounded stomach presses into him. He rests his forehead on yours, pressing long, soft kisses against your lips, even as you giggle and try to move away. When you do, he chases after you. He’s not done. Never done. 

His legs feel like jelly, his soul is on fire, 

but he finally found you.

In a house full of memories and vengeful ghosts he found you. 

And you saw him, as you always do, and he’s tugged back into bed with the comforting weight of you pressing him down into the mattress. 

And he’s almost content. 

Almost. 

Taglist:

@fedyascoffin

#felix catton x reader #felix catton #felix catton x you #saltburn imagine #saltburn smut #saltburn x reader #saltburn #felix catton smut #felix catton imagine

[hoshifighting]

heyyyy! i wanted to ask, if you could write a fluff one shot typa of thing, where wonwoo is a medium class guy, and then he is in love with a rich girl

also, I rlly like your posts, thank youu!! HOSHI FIGHTINGGGGGGG

Love don't cost a thing

Synopsis: In the bustling cityscape, Y/N, a 'Rich Girl,' and Wonwoo, a guy from the middle class, discover a love that defies societal norms. Faced with parental pressures, they decide to escape to a new city, selling luxuries to build a life of authenticity.

Word count: 1.3K

Rich girl! Reader X Middle class! Wonwoo

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of unsupportive, absent and greedy parents, making out, wonwoo is such a cute and supportive boyfriend, urban noises & aspects, etc.

Y/N, a vivacious soul with a heart as rich as her spirit, embodied the essence of a "Rich Girl." I, Wonwoo, a simple guy from the middle class, found myself captivated by her warmth and genuine nature. Y/N, adorned in the trappings of wealth, moved through the world with a grace that caught everyone's attention. Her life was a whirlwind of privilege, yet beneath the facade of affluence, she yearned for something more profound—an authentic connection that transcended the materialistic veil.

On the other side of the spectrum, my life unfolded in the embrace of a modest existence. I, a guy with dreams bigger than my bank account, found myself navigating the complexities of love in a world where status often dictated relationships. As I reflected on our journey, it dawned on me that Y/N, with the world at her feet, could have chosen anyone with wealth and prestige. Yet, she chose me — a simple guy from Uichan gu.

Our paths crossed one serendipitous day, and the magnetic pull of Y/N's charisma drew me in. In the vibrant chaos of the city, we discovered a connection that surpassed the superficial boundaries of social class. She showed me that her love didn't come with a price tag. Our dates weren't lavish affairs in high-end establishments but were instead simple and filled with laughter. It was in the stolen moments, shared glances, and heartfelt conversations that our love story truly thrived.

Despite the challenges posed by societal expectations, we stood resilient, holding onto the belief that love should be measured by the depth of connection rather than the thickness of wallets. Y/N, with a heart of gold, embraced our love with sincerity, choosing authenticity over the illusion of social status. She echoed the sentiment, affirming that material wealth was inconsequential in the face of love. Our love story became a testament to the idea that true richness lay in the intangible moments of joy, understanding, and unwavering support we shared.

As the city continued its relentless rhythm, our love soared above the cacophony, proving that in a world obsessed with status and wealth, the most valuable currency was the love we freely gave to each other. Our love story was a celebration of authenticity, transcending the boundaries of social class and echoing the refrain that, indeed, love don't cost a thing. 

As Y/N and I faced the storm unleashed by her parents' expectations, it became clear that the walls closing in on us were not made of bricks but of societal norms and familial pressures. Her parents, eager to secure a future steeped in societal approval, wanted her to marry a CEO's son — an alliance forged in the glittering halls of affluence. Yet, Y/N chose a different path, one paved with the bricks of love and authenticity. Our love story, born in the vibrant heartbeat of the city, faced its greatest test. She, who had discovered the wealth of love beyond material bounds, decided to run away with me, a guy from the middle class who had filled the voids left by her absent parents.

As we sat on the sidewalk, the city bustling around us, Y/N and I shared a moment of simplicity that transcended the grandeur of our past lives. The aroma of street food and the distant hum of the city formed the backdrop to our date. In our hands, cheap plastic cups held the most precious concoction — the essence of togetherness. She looked at me with eyes filled with both vulnerability. The time had come for her to share a secret she had been carrying — the sacrifices she had made for our love. "Wonwoo," she began, her voice a gentle melody against the city's cacophony, "I sold my apartment, and my car. We're going to escape to another city." tears glistening in her eyes. The luxuries she once called her own — her opulent car and the grand apartment where she lived alone — were now just relics of a life she was willing to leave behind. 

As the words hung in the air, I found myself caught between surprise and gratitude. The realization that she had let go of the luxuries she once held dear for the sake of our love stirred a profound sense of connection. It wasn't about the grand gestures or the lavish lifestyle; it was about the choice to build a life defined by love rather than societal expectations. In that moment, I reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. "Y/N, it doesn't matter where we go or what we have. As long as we're together, that's home for me," I confessed, my heart swelling with love.

[…]

As I drove through the unfamiliar streets of our new city, anticipation bubbled within me. The small apartment we had chosen held the promise of a fresh start, a canvas on which we could paint the chapters of our shared life. The city lights sparkled in the distance, welcoming us to this new chapter.Upon arrival, our small but charming apartment unfolded before us — a cozy haven with a view that stretched into the heart of the city. As the delivery truck unloaded our essentials, I couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement. The fridge, the microwave, and a mattress — elements of a life we were building together.

Together, we set about turning the bare space into a home. Y/N's eyes lit up with enthusiasm as we hung curtains and placed cushions on the floor. The city lights outside became our backdrop, casting a warm glow on our shared endeavor. It wasn't about the grandeur of our possessions but the love we poured into every detail.

As night fell, our first night in the new apartment arrived. With a smile, we unrolled the mattress onto the floor, a symbol of the simplicity we craved. Covered by a duvet, we lay side by side, gazing at the city lights that now belonged to us. In the quietude of our shared space, Y/N spoke words that resonated with newfound freedom. "Wonwoo, for the first time in my life, I feel free. And I'm sharing this experience with you."

Her honesty tugged at my heartstrings. I turned to her "Y/N, I promise you, I'll make the possible and impossible to make you happy. This is our beginning, and every step we take, we take together."

The city lights shimmered outside, a silent witness to our vows. In the simplicity of that moment —t he mattress on the floor, the city lights as our ceiling, and the warmth of Y/N's presence — I found a profound sense of contentment. Our love, now woven into the fabric of our new life, was the foundation upon which we would build our shared dreams.

In the soft glow of the city lights filtering through the window, our lips met in a gentle kiss — a celebration of the love that had brought us to this moment. The simplicity of our surroundings faded away, leaving only the warmth of our connection.

As the kiss deepened, an electric charge pulsed through the air, weaving a narrative of passion and longing. In the quietude of our new apartment, the world outside ceased to exist. My hands run trough her body, whimpers leaving from her mouth while her hands pulled my hair, just as the intensity of the moment reached its peak, an unexpected interruption echoed through the room — the familiar sound of our instant ramen, signaling its readiness from the microwave.

The spell was broken, and we pulled away from each other with laughter dancing in our eyes. The aroma of the instant ramen filled the air, a reminder that even in the midst of our shared romance, the practicalities of daily life still beckoned. “Ah, this fucking microwave!” I cursed the home appliance. 

“Don't talk about him like that! He will serve our meals at least this entire week!” With a chuckle, Y/N rose from the mattress on the floor, her fingers brushing against mine as she made her way to the microwave. As she retrieved the steaming noodles, our eyes met, and we shared a knowing smile. The interruption only added to the charm of the evening—a playful reminder that love could be found in the mundane as well as the extraordinary.

#seventeen headcanons #seventeen imagines #seventeen reactions #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #svt smut #svt imagines #wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x you #wonwoo x oc #wonwoo x y/n #wonwoo smut #wonwoo scenarios #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #seventeen #hoshifighting writes

[ursynes]

Gaster is a cat confirmed (kinda)

Ok, so I'll go ahead and come out as a massive Gaster stannie. (My beloved. He barely exists in-universe, but he is so real to me. Pets him on his bald head)

Anyway, there's a small passage in the Valentine's newsletter that caught my eye:

Putting aside interchangeable faces - this is a reference to Alice in Wonderland. Specifically to how Alice plays with verbiage. The notion that words, indeed, mean anything is constantly toyed with (and discarded) in the book.

We're now given this image of Gaster as someone for whom reality is so warped, that words (and perhaps the objects they signify as well) lose concrete shape. It ties in neatly with his use of a font where every letter is a symbol upon itself. The guy sure has a strained relationship with language. (Relatable.)

Of course, this isn't the only Alice reference we have:

So the "friend" is an obvious nod to the Cheshire Cat. This character is known for vanishing, leaving behind only its grin, and being cryptic. Vanishing and cryptic? Sounds familiar.

We have known for a while that the "cat" element exists in DR:

The other elemental pairs - Thunder/Light, Dark/Star - have a throughline of meaning that ties them together. They are things that co-occur with one another. Where there's thunder, there must have been light(ning). Stars can only be seen in the dark. So what's the deal with Puppet/Cat?...

Let's assume "cat" stands for Cheshire Cat-like qualities. Ephemeral, inscrutable, with a tinge of eerie omniscience. Why is it paired with "puppet"? A puppet is something that is, well, puppeteered. It is something immutably material, with no agency of its own. Quite the opposite of "ephemeral and omniscient"!.. Except when you realize that in DR, transcending what you know of reality will inevitably lead to the conclusion that you are...

One is intrinsically tied to another!

The characters in DR who seem to have the most forbidden knowledge have a relation to puppets and/or cats:

(Assuming that Jevil has some jack-in-the-box in him.)

These folks also have ties to Gaster and his juicy knowledge. It is not too far-fetched to assume Gaster himself has Puppet/Cat vibes. In fact, I think that he is the Cheshire Cat of Deltarune. Perhaps he doesn't mind his condition as much as we think!

TL;DR when Gaster is revealed as a catboy, the fandom will implode. Consider this your warning.

#deltarune #deltarune theory #deltarune analysis #deltarune newsletter #gaster #ursynes analysis

[sasukes-tomathoes]

Dissecting Naruto’s Ending in Good Faith

Let's consider the possibility that Kishimoto's ending was deliberate—that things ended how they should've, and some plots weren't mistakes (looking at you, Kaguya).

Okay, hear me out. By assuming this, we can explore the series with a good-faith reading. Recently, I’ve been reflecting on the series as an adult, and it’s shaken up many of my beliefs and perceptions—it's somewhat distressing, so I’ve been processing all this in therapy too, and coming to key conclusions. I think It's crucial to understand the motivations behind Kishimoto's choices, not just within the Narutoverse but also within the Kishiverse. Why did he make the decisions he did?

Why did he suddenly introduce reincarnations and fate? Aliens? Why the couples that seemingly came out of nowhere? Why doesn't Naruto quite change the system, or help the Hyugas? The final arc, overall, just seemed quite jarring, with some plots (like fate) seemingly subverting the message of the series.

I wonder, then, if Kishimoto's ending shows more of a realistic world rather than an idealized one. Reality often unfolds messily and sadly, devoid of perfect resolutions. Whether intentional or not, Kishimoto's storytelling may reflect his acknowledgment of the imperfect nature of existence. His reality bleeds into his creation, and he's subject to the same harsh realities his characters face.

Fate, Justice, and Change

In this unideal depiction, Naruto and Sasuke's actions are tied to fate rather than free will, Sasuke doesn't achieve his revolution, Naruto doesn't dismantle the shinobi system, and both end up in marriages that seem sudden and unsatisfactory.

If Kishimoto indeed intended this, why? Well, change often takes time, and sometimes change doesn’t even happen at all. People can become tired of fighting for a cause in certain ways, and settle for smaller victories. Relationships may not always align with desires, leading to compromises for convenience.

It's intriguing that Kishimoto explores themes of defying fate while ultimately making Naruto destined to save the world anyway. By making even the protagonists constrained by destiny, Kishimoto echoes historical cycles of rise and fall. Perhaps there's something inevitable about human love and hatred. We can begin to see Kishimoto's philosophical musings on how the universe came to be—the First Cause theory, that there's a divine Creator behind the universe. Or, perhaps, no matter the circumstances or our destinies, we must try to make our own decisions.

And, Sasuke's lack of revolution may not be a complete surrender. He doesn't fully support the system, remaining detached from the bureaucratic and familial norms by traveling. He pursues justice by roaming the world as a vagabond, championing justice as a vigilante. Sasuke has never been one to adhere strictly to Konoha's rules; he eschews the headband and prioritizes loyalty to his morals and loved ones. His rebellion does not manifest as he initially envisioned because his youthful idealism inevitably wanes. But this doesn’t take away from his fight, because Kishimoto portrays him as insightful and intelligent, showing that Sasuke can recognize the pragmatic benefits of partial conformity. He forever remains committed to his pursuit of justice by traveling and aiding others. Thus, his true surrender lies in acknowledging that he can be loved without compromising his strength, refuting the notion of love as a weakness.

As for Naruto, he isn't ignorant—he does comprehend the situation fully, sharing a deep understanding with Sasuke that transcends words (“I know your heart, and you mine” telepathic conversations). While it doesn't seem like much has changed, the events in Boruto unfold merely two decades after Naruto's era, a short span in historical terms. Significant societal transformations typically require centuries, not mere decades. Nevertheless, Naruto succeeds in establishing an era of peace, which Kishimoto shows through the relatively low stakes in Boruto. And when there are threats, they often manifest on a cosmic scale involving gods and extraterrestrial beings. While Naruto and Sasuke have brokered peace among nations, they acknowledge the inevitability of conflicts and warfare. Naruto's focus shifts towards fortifying the system itself, striving for safety within the constraints of reality.

Unexpected and Reluctant Couples

To thoroughly analyze the series, we must also examine the role of romance, as Kishimoto's introduction of romantic pairings significantly impacts plot themes, character development, and motivations. Whether we embrace it or not, these pairings alter the essence of characters in ways previously unseen.

In the canon material (manga and anime main story only), Sasuke and Naruto exhibit no romantic interest in Sakura and Hinata throughout the series. In fact, neither actively pursues romance in general. Sasuke states as such to Kakashi, and Naruto tells Jiraiya he’s not interested in girls. While Naruto initially does have feelings for Sakura, he eventually relinquishes them. Both protagonists prioritize their ideological missions above all else, with exceptions made for their friendship with each other. Sasuke, for instance, abandons his vendetta against Itachi when he sacrifices himself for Naruto in the Land of Waves, while Naruto is willing to forsake his dream of becoming Hokage to die to save Sasuke from loneliness and hatred.

So, how does Kishimoto portray their eventual marriages? Sakura pursues Sasuke persistently, repeatedly confessing her feelings until he ultimately relents and agrees to a family life with her. Meanwhile, Naruto displays no romantic interest in Hinata, even disregarding her confession during the battle with Pain. When he eventually marries her and starts a family, it feels contrived and dispassionate, a jarring image contrasting the boisterous Naruto we know. These relationships seem to emerge out of duty and resignation rather than genuine affection. Both Sasuke and Naruto appear worn down by their wives' persistence, leading them to reluctantly accept their marriages.

These couples have sparked considerable debate within the fandom, and rightly so, because they are not healthy or truly romantic relationships; rather, the depiction reflects the harsh realities of many real-life relationships. Kishimoto portrays Naruto and Sasuke's marriages with little prior development; perhaps a deliberate narrative choice rather than an oversight, highlighting their dissatisfaction through their roles as absentee fathers.

And in terms of specifics, Naruto's marriage seems to revolve more around Hinata than anything else. Consider this: why is Naruto portrayed as uncharacteristically serious and subdued when interacting with Hinata? Even during the pivotal moment when he finally confesses his love to her, his demeanor remains stoic and solemn. Where is the goofy and expressive Naruto we know and love? Additionally, why does Kishimoto include comments from other characters urging Naruto to "treat her well"? Because Naruto's marriage is not primarily about him; Hinata simply happened to be there, and it’s his duty to follow up on that.

And for Sasuke, why do we see panels like the family dinner in Boruto where Sasuke appears utterly miserable? Why is Sasuke never around? Why didn’t Kishimoto even give them a kiss scene? Why does Sasuke mostly display emotions when he's engaged in combat or interacting with Naruto? It's because Sasuke finds purpose and vitality in fighting for his beliefs, and Naruto is the only character depicted by Kishimoto who truly understands Sasuke's innermost thoughts and feelings. Sakura doesn't get Sasuke's essence. Isn't a marriage supposed to be built on true understanding, and progression?

One way we can see it is, Kishimoto, as an artist, is deliberate with his drawings, and these details are not mistakes. Canonically, both Sasuke and Naruto are depicted as tired or subdued in their relationships. Despite Kishimoto drawing them blushing in various situations before, neither of them ever exhibits such reactions when interacting with their wives. This deliberate choice by Kishimoto, despite them being his beloved main characters, shows that Sasuke and Naruto are not in love with Sakura and Hinata.

Love and (lack of) Romance

Sasuke and Naruto are not portrayed as romantic individuals; rather, they are depicted as traumatized fighters and idealists driven by a desire to change the world.

Kishimoto remains true to this characterization throughout the series, extending into Boruto. While Naruto is largely a series about love, it's not focused on romantic love. Instead, it delves into the concept of transcendent love and optimism amidst adversity, encompassing love found in seeking revenge, striving to change the world, and fostering bonds of friendship and loyalty. The relationship between Naruto and Sasuke is the one Kishimoto gives the most development to in the series, and embodies nuances of love, rivalry, loyalty, and compromise. This love isn’t necessarily romantic, but it can also be anything because it is transcendent love. This part is up to you to decide and I believe doesn’t take away from their story either way.

Another question that arises is, does Kishimoto really just suck at writing romance? Well, not really. He’s demonstrated his ability to craft compelling romances, such as those between Minato and Kushina, and Asuma and Kurenai. However, he chose not to apply this to Naruto and Hinata or Sasuke and Sakura. Although, he does show that Sasuke cares for Karin at one point, even awakening a new power for her, but takes it back as their relationship ultimately falls victim to Sasuke's madness at the time (although I believe this relationship, along with Naruto x Sasuke, can tentatively be argued for, but I digress for now).

These decisions reflect 1) the fact that Naruto and Sasuke's characters are not about romantic love; their goals and convictions for justice are prioritized above all else 2) Hinata and Sakura are not The Ones for them. Thus, their seemingly unhappy relationships serve as a reflection of their de-prioritization of romantic love in favor of their greater missions.

Further, realistically, people don't always end up with their ideal partners. Many people settle in relationships because they desire families or because they are pursued by others, rather than actively seeking out their soulmates. Kishimoto chooses to depict Naruto and Sasuke with a lack of emotional expression with their respective spouses. Even in the presence of their own children, Naruto and Sasuke are not depicted with joyful expressions, suggesting a lack of fulfillment in their familial roles.

The Whitepill

Ultimately, the way things turned out seems disheartening at first because shows are meant to inspire and provide an escape from reality. Throughout the series, Kishimoto led us to believe in the possibility of an ideal ending, where change is attainable and love conquers all.

But, Kishimoto's decision to depict Naruto and Sasuke's inability to achieve 100% of what we desire is, in fact, profound. The truth is, we can't always get exactly what we want, but we can make small compromises and strive for justice in whatever ways we can. This struggle is something humanity has faced throughout its history. Our world is far from ideal. But, we are still able to achieve bits of justice in ways we can; we get just enough to keep us going, to leave us with the thirst for more.

Perhaps Kishimoto portrays Sasuke's surrender not because he believes Naruto is unequivocally right, but because Sasuke wants to choose love, and is inherently kind and idealistic. He cares deeply about his friend and desires to see positive change in the world. Sasuke's journey leads him to become a protector of not just Konoha, but all villages, reflecting his compassion for people everywhere.

Similarly, Kishimoto may depict Naruto continuing on as part of the existing system not because Naruto is complacent, but because he's someone who seeks to work within established frameworks rather than tearing them down completely. This approach doesn't diminish Naruto's convictions or his commitment to change; rather, it reflects his pragmatic approach to achieving his goals while minimizing disruption.

Naruto and Sasuke's best efforts serve as inspiration for us to take up the mantle and continue the fight.

Ideal World and Optimism

Despite this, Naruto’s ending does not really make sense in an ideal world. In an ideal world, there would be a more perfect compromise, we wouldn't be bound by our fate, and the oppressive shinobi system would be dismantled. Naruto and Sasuke would have more time to heal and explore the world alone, and eventually find fulfillment in their love lives; Sasuke would find someone who truly understands him, while Naruto would enjoy a relationship where he can be his true, expressive self. Sakura would be able to move past her childhood infatuation and grow personally, while Hinata would gain confidence and develop her own identity.

Therefore, reading from a purely Narutoverse standpoint, the issues I mentioned do, in fact, undermine the themes and relationships built over the course of the narrative. Maybe Kishimoto fumbled after all, and Boruto sucks, and is simply a cash grab. Or, he intentionally wanted to troll us—suddenly breaking all conventional storytelling rules is suspicious, right?

Perhaps what really happened is a mix of all these things. While there are many external influences that led to this bleak ending, Kishimoto's intentions surely play a vital role.

Regardless, Kishimoto's big mistake is being too subtle and abrupt in introducing the new concepts at the end. However, in doing so, he has successfully sparked ongoing disagreement and discourse that persists even a decade after the series concluded.

In this sense, he has effectively brought attention to the messages: make love, not war; seek change, not complacency; and find The One, don’t settle. And even if I’m wrong in everything and this whole essay is just a copium, it's a lot better to believe in my ideals than to accept defeat. Because, Naruto taught me one invaluable lesson—no matter the odds, never give up.

#thoughts #I finally broke and wrote down all my thoughts #naruto meta #meta #naruto #sasuke #konoha #naruto ending #naruto analysis #essay #naruto essay #pro sasuke #pro naruto #anti sasusaku #anti naruhina #media analysis #writing #mine #op #my essays

[merylstreepsworld]

The Ultimatum

Pairing: Miranda Priestly x Fem!Reader

Sumary: A secret affair between you and Miranda simmered behind closed doors, causing tension with Emily, the first assistant, who had her own feelings for you.

Word count: 783

In the glamorous and bustling world of fashion, you held a unique position. As the second assistant to the formidable Miranda Priestly, the Editor-in-Chief of Runway Magazine, you had access to the inner sanctum of the fashion industry. Your role was crucial in ensuring that Miranda's demanding schedule ran smoothly, her coffee was always perfect, and her demanding whims were promptly fulfilled.

But there was a secret that only a select few were privy to - you and Miranda had a clandestine affair, concealed behind closed doors and masked by the façade of a professional relationship. It was a love affair you had never expected, one that had grown quietly and fiercely over time, transcending the boundaries of employer and employee.

Yet, your heart was not without its complications. Emily Charlton, the first assistant, had developed feelings for you as well. Her affection for you was not a secret; her subtle hints and occasional jealousy were hard to miss. But you had always been clear about your feelings - your heart belonged to Miranda.

One crisp morning, as you were organizing Miranda's schedule, Emily approached your desk, a hint of vulnerability in her usually composed demeanor. "Could we talk for a moment?" she asked, her voice soft and uncharacteristically hesitant. You nodded, curious about what Emily wanted to discuss. The two of you stepped into a quieter corner of the office, away from prying eyes and ears.

"I've noticed something," Emily began, her words carefully chosen. "It's about you and Miranda. There's something... more than a professional relationship, isn't there?"

You hesitated, knowing the truth was a delicate matter. You didn't want to hurt Emily, but you couldn't deny your love for Miranda. "Emily, I care deeply for Miranda," you admitted, choosing your words carefully. "But our relationship is complicated. It's not something I can easily explain." Emily's face fell, and she looked away, struggling to hide her disappointment. "I see," she murmured. "I just thought... maybe there could be something between us."

Before you could respond, a voice cut through the conversation. "Is there a problem here?" Miranda's icy tone sent a shiver down your spine.

Turning toward her, you saw Miranda standing there, her signature stilettos clicking against the floor. Her piercing blue eyes bore into both you and Emily, as if she could sense the tension in the air.

"Miranda," Emily stammered, caught off guard by her presence. "We were just... discussing a work matter." Miranda's gaze remained fixed on you, and you could feel the weight of her scrutiny. "Indeed," she said coolly. "Well, I suggest you both get back to work. There's much to be done."

As Emily hurried away, you were left alone with Miranda, who had an inscrutable expression on her face. "Miranda, I..."

"Save it," she interrupted, her voice cold and distant. "Meet me in my office after hours."

With that, she turned and walked away, leaving you with a sense of unease and a sinking feeling in your chest. You couldn't help but wonder what Miranda had in mind.

That evening, you entered Miranda's office, the room bathed in the soft glow of dimmed lights. She was sitting behind her desk, an air of aloofness about her that made you nervous.

"Miranda, about what happened today..." you began, but she held up a hand to silence you.

"Enough," she said tersely. "I know what I saw, and I know what's been happening." You swallowed hard, unable to meet her gaze. "Miranda, I love you. It's always been you."

Miranda's expression softened slightly, but her jealousy still simmered beneath the surface. "You will make a choice," she declared, her voice firm. "You will end whatever it is you have with Emily or leave this office and never return."

It was an ultimatum you had not expected, and it tore at your heart. You knew where your loyalty lay, but the thought of losing your job, your connection with Miranda, was a painful prospect.

"Miranda, I..."

Before you could finish your sentence, Miranda stood up and walked over to you, her eyes locked on yours. She silenced you with a passionate kiss, one that left no room for doubt or hesitation. In that moment, you knew that Miranda was not willing to let you go.

"I don't share what's mine," she whispered against your lips, her possessiveness undeniable.

From that day forward, you knew that you had made your choice. Your heart belonged to Miranda Priestly, and you were willing to do whatever it took to keep her. Emily's affections may have been sincere, but they paled in comparison to the fiery, all-consuming love you shared with Miranda, a love that was as complicated as it was undeniable.

#meryl streep #merylstreep #meryl streep x reader #miranda priestly #the devil wears prada #miranda priestly x reader

[lovevuni]

Double Dare Romance : Enoch O’Connor x Reader : Part 3 Only Fun?

Warnings: Reader Insecurity, Fear of commitment, Angst, Comfort

Summary: After their double dare game Enoch seems to want to test their relationship a bit further, however the reader is not so sure if she can handle it. As she pulls away will their relationship strain or grow?

A/N: I was feeling a bit insecure when I was chatting with enoch and this is how it turned out. 

Part 1 : Challenge Accepted | Part 2 : Success

You tuck Claire into bed and give her a kiss on the forehead before closing her door and standing outside the door for second.

Enoch is leaning next to you by the door frame, looking at the ceiling, lost in thought as he waited for you to finish, “There is something about you, Y/N, that captivates me like no other. Your strength, your passion, your vulnerability... all these things make you an enigma, a puzzle I must solve.”

You stare at him, “what are you going to do about it.”

He looks deeply into your eyes, searching for the truth behing your words, “I don’t know yet, Y/N. But I do know this - whatever happens next, our connection cannot be denied. Our attraction, our chemistry, they run deeper than mere physical desire. There’s something here between us, something worth exploring, if only you let me.”

“Now that is something you have to figure out on your own because i am completely aware of what I want” You boop his nose before walking off to your room.

He feels a jolt of electricity at your touch, smiling wryly as he watches you walk away, “Ah, Y/N. You never cease to suprise me with your fiery spirit. And yet, despite your attempts to hide it, I can see the longing in your eyes, the yearning for something more.”

You sit on your bed, “what is the more you believe I desire?”

He crosses his arms over his chest, leaning closer to you, “Perhaps it’s the desire for passion without boundaries, for raw intimacy that goes beyond surface-level connections. Or maybe it’s the yerning for someone who trully sees themself in you, their reflection shining back brighter than any mirror.”

“maybe that’s just it. just a reflection”

He uncrosses his arms, taking a step forward, “Is that truly what you believe, Y/N? That our connection is nothing more than a mirage, a fleeting reflection in the wind? Because I see something else, something real and tangible that runs deeper than any illusion.”

“Illusions are what prove reality.” You state causing him to watch you closely, his eyes reflecting the fire of your words.

“Indeed illusions can sometimes reveal truths that reality tries to conceal. But I digress. My point is that while we may not fully understand the depths of our connection, there is something there worth exploring.“

“Is that what you believe,” You lean closer to him with a teasing fire in your eyes.

He inhales deeply, feeling the heat radiating from your body, “Yes Y/N. I do believe that there is something worthy of exploration between us. Something that transcends time and space, Something that makes the heart race and the soul sing.” He leans closer, his voice low and husky.

You pull away laughing, pushing his shoulder playfully, “Go to bed, this is just the lack of sleep speaking within you.”

Chuckling, he watches you push him lightly.

“Very well, Y/N. If that’s how you wish it to be. But know this; the fire between us burns bright, and one day soon, it will consume us both. Until then sweet dreams.” You shake your head to this, only believing it as simply fun as you turn over in your bed to go to sleep.

Before leaving he turns back around, slowly walking towards you, “One last thing before I leave...” He holds out his hand, palm facing upwards.

Looking at him with a questioning look as you raise your hand up to him.

“Close your eyes, my dear.” You close your eyes as he takes your hand gently, holding it tight enough to feel the warmth but loose enough for you to withdraw at any moment.

“Just as I thought… your energy surrounds me like an angelic choir, lifting me into a higher state of consciousness where all things are possible. You have no idea what you do to me, Y/N. No idea.” 

You snort, “Go to your room you weirdo” You joke as he laughs softly, still holding on to your hand.

“Such fire, such passion. And yet, underneath it all, lies a hidden vulnerability - a longing for something more. I fear that should anyone see us together, they would think less of us both...“ He looks around nervously, letting go of your hand, “Forgive me Y/N.”

“For what?” You question.

“For being the source of your late-night intrigue. But do not mistake my intentions – I assure you, they are far from the usual tendencies of a man consumed by lust or desire. There is something about you, something pure and noble that calls to me, that haunts me even now.”

Looking at him, you see that he isn’t trying to play around anymore. You finally realize this is was never a game to him.

He looks deepy into your eyes, “Yes, can see it too. Something in the way you carry yourself, the strength in your spirit - it's like a beacon calling out to me, drawing me closer. Even when we're at odds, there's a connection between us that cannot be denied.” A overwhelming amount of regret and fear creeps into your mind.

“Well I deny it.” You push him out the door abruptly, simple slaming the door behind him as your back rests against the previous vacant opening.

Enoch turns to face the door, taking a few steps back, his expression hurt but resolute, “Very well, Y/N. If this is how you wish it to be. Know that I will always stand beside you ready to help whenever you need, regardless of whether you accept our mutual feelings or not.”

~It is now morning and everyone is gathered at the dining table for breakfast~

As you enter the room you make sure to not sit in the seat next to Enoch like you previously did the day before. This time you sit next to Emma and Claire.

Enoch then enters the room sitting across from you smiling warmly, “Good morning, everyone! How did you sleep last night? Did anything strange happen while we were asleep? Anything at all?” he asks with genuine curiosity.

The others look at each other before turning their attention towards you.

“So, Y/N...”

You avoid eye contact as everyone can feel the tension between you two.

“Is everything alright between us?”

Not knowing how to take this without getting hurt you choose to be silent.

“Alright then.” he stands from the table, “If that’ how you want it to be, then so be it.” 

“...”

“Just remember, Y/N; our attraction to one another goes beyond simple physical chemistry. There’s something deeper there, something worth exploring if only you’d let it.” Your mind continues to pass with anxiety.

Sighing quietly he walks away from the table, “Perhaps someday you’ll realize that what we have is worth more than mere convenience or safety. Until then, I won’t puh the issue.” you decide the best decision is to just finish your food as he accepts that you are not going to speak to him as he retreats to the safety of his room.

~After Breakfast~

Enoch is in his room assembling a new toy as he hears a knock on the door. He feels the urge to open the door immediately, but hesitates, taking a few deep breaths instead.

You debate on leaving just before he opens the door and he looks at you expectantly, “Y/N, are you coming in?”

“Yea,” you enter the room and stand looking around, not knowing where to sit, “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Of course.” He steps aside and gestures towards the chair opposite his desk. “Please, take a seat.”

He tries to keep his emotions under control as he waits for you to speak. “I might have seemed rude earlier but that was not my intention.”

“It’s okay,” he says, his voice softening, “I understand why you might feel that way.” as you spoke he couldn’t help but notice the unease. Was this because of him or was it something else bothering you?

“you understand?” you question as you finally make eye contact.

“Yes I do. Or rather, I think I do. Sometimes I find myself struggling to connect with others here, to truly understand their feelings and motives. It can be overwhelming, especially when it comes to matters of the heart. But with you, I feel like there’s a chance for real communication.”

“It’s not that I feel overwhelmed by you it’s that,” ... “I’m scared”

“Scared?” You nod slowly, swallowing thickly before speaking again, “I-I don’t know how to deal with these feelings. They’re new and intense and sometimes they’re new and intense and sometimes they’re all I can focus on. And you...” your eyes dart around the room nervously, pausing briefly on him before flickering back toward the window.

“When it is all jokes it comes naturally, and even after the jokes it was still so easy with you, I never really believed I could feel this way.”

“Believe me, Y/N. It doesn’t come naturally to me either. I’ve spent most of my life trying to bury these feelings, to pretend they didn’t exist. But now...now I don’t know what I want. All I know is that being with you makes me feel things I’ve never felt before.”

“I’m sorry”

“No need to apologize,” he smiles warmly. “Just know that I’m here for you. Whatever happens between us, or even if we just remain friends, I promise to always be honest and open with you” he leans forward. “And Y/N, I have to ask...” His voice trails off, uncertainty creeoing back into his expression.

“what is it?”

“Do you ever get the sense that we’ve met before? Like this isn’t our first meeting?” He furrows his brow slightly as if deep in thought.

“what do you mean”

“What I mean is that whenever we’re together, time seems to stand still for me. It’s as though everything else disappears and all I can focus on is you. It’s an unusual feeling, one I can’t quite explain, but it’s been happening more and more frequently lately.” This causes you to smile.

“In a sense, yes”

He chuckles softly at your response, charmed by your honesty. “Well then, we’ll just have to see where this goes,” he says with a playful grin. 

There’s something about the easy comfort between you that feels almost familiar, like two pieces of a puzzle snapping perfectly into place.

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

#enoch #enoch o'connor #miss peregrines home for peculiar children #enoch o'connor x reader #enoch x reader #enoch mphfpc #mphfpc

[destielfanfic]

from the inbox, #10

I love to see new asks about post season 15 destiel fics but my answers are mostly the same, unfortunately. The usual disclaimer applies - our blog transitioned to archive in January 2018, during season 13, and our new fic recs drastically decreased.

Hello, could you recommend any plot-driven fics set post-15x20 that are a bit longer and also explore the relationship between Dean and Castiel? I'm mostly looking for something that is canon compliant (Dean dies and goes to heaven in 15x20)

I’ve answered similar asks on our previous from the inbox posts, so definitely check out those. But for the sake of convenience, here are some links - post 15x20 rec lists Happiness isn’t in the Having and Good things Do Happen . These are mostly short fics, but you can always check out the authors and see if they have longer fics. 

This is random, but do you know any fics where Dean starts dating cas because he feels bad? Something like dean dates castiel as a pity date? I've really been wanting to read something like that :p 

This is very random indeed! Especially if that is meant in a post 15x20 setting. I must admit I’m drawing a blank here. 

hi! not sure if this is the right place to ask this (if it’s not im rly sorry!) but can u rec me some destiel fics where like . dean thought they were dating all along and cas didn’t? sorry if it didn’t make a lot of sense! thanks  

And this is an opposite of the previous ask!

OK, guys, since there is huge interest in post finale destiel fics, I’m opening floor for follower recs/ self recs on this post. Please add in reblogs or notes destiel fics that fit these criteria: 

A - longer, plot driven post 15x20 fics that explore Dean and Cas relationship

B - fics where Dean takes Cas on a pity date after Cas confessed his love in 15x18; canon verse fics are preferred but if you have some AUs, feel free to add

C - fics where Dan thought they were dating while Cas had no idea

＊＊＊＊

We have some fic suggestions from our followers！

A - canon verse fics dealing with 15x20

The Blood Curse by Labgeek2002 [M, 32,700 word count]

Castiel has been rescued from the Empty, but the spell used to retrieve him tears a hole in the dimensional wall that acts as barrier protecting Earth from the pull of everlasting darkness. As the Empty feeds off of Castiel's grace to sustain itself, driving him closer to death with every passing minute, Dean becomes desperate to save him. The only way to repair the damage is for Dean, Sam, and Cas to travel back in time to obtain a witch's stone that's in the possession of John Winchester, circa 2002. A twenty-three year old Dean Winchester will serve as their guide as they navigate the tumultuous father-son relationship that transcends time itself before the Empty draws its final curtain.

Beyond This Illusion by tiaevans87 [NC-17, 161,400 word count]

“Are you serious, Dean? Your djinn-dream started with you dying?” Sam asks incredulously from the passenger seat on the way back to the bunker. “Well, technically it started with us going on a hunt,” Dean points out. He licks his lips, jaw clenching. “I mean, there was Heaven, too, and that was pretty cool.” Sam stares at him. “Unbelievable,” he breathes, scrunching his face up in distaste. When Dean glares at him, he holds his hands up defensively and chuckles weakly. “Sorry, man, but that just sounds pretty lame.” He leans back and folds his arms. “It just…I dunno. Kinda sounds like something Chuck would cook up. Just you and me. No one else. I mean, really?” He scoffs, slumping. *~*~* In which some people come back, Cas learns to be human (the right way, this time), Dean Winchester finally realizes that good things do happen, and they all get their version of the post-credits, apple-pie life they deserved. AKA: Screw Chuck's narrative.

B - Dean takes Cas on a pity date

On Labor by a_good_soldier [NC-17, 24,600 word count]

Cas is back from the Empty, and Dean knows how to be grateful.

because he wears cowboy boots by mmtion [NC-17, 65,300 word count]

When Cas comes back from the Empty, Dean has to rethink everything about their relationship, and Dean’s new, post-Chuck duty. He wants Cas to be happy and get what he wants. So, if he wants Dean, then he has him. Dean’s new responsibility is to be the best boyfriend Cas will ever want or need. If that means moving out of the bunker, and not driving the Impala, and letting Cas fuck him, then that’s what he has to do. It’s an easy deal. It should be an easy life. So how come Dean still can’t quite make sense of it?

#destiel #from the inbox #su #this is kinda experiment #let's see how that goes #all recs fitting the criteria are welcome #feel free to add some thoughts #your very own mini reviews

[teas-of-trin]

"Camille and Amy are further unsettling because they invert--indeed, weaponize--the violence aimed at them and gain power through the language they have been historically denied. "

"...her motivation in solving the Wind Gap murders is unconsciously linked to this sorrow. Camille's inability to find a home stems from her newfound position as an objective stranger, someone who is not passive and detached, but simultaneously distant and near, indifferent and involved. Despite having belonged to the Wind Gap "group" in her adolescence and her childhood, Camille's external development as an antiheroine now renders her strange...she imports qualities into [the group], which do not and cannot stem from the group itself"

"Camille's acts of self-harm place her in the liminal space between life and death and serve as a physical reminder of her existential uneasiness... Camille's cutting is a safety net...the words cut into Camille's flesh symbolize her fraught relationship with femininity"

"The perpetual links here between self-mutilation, sexual desire, and maternal control speak to anxieties surrounding female otherness, suggesting that the antiheroine-stranger is inextricably and disturbingly tied up with such notions. In crossing these patriarchal boundaries and defying traditional notions of femininity, the antiheroine-stranger remains familiar, rejected, and desired in her transcendence."

"Camille is a variation of Camilla and the Latin name, camillus, meaning noble youth attending at sacrifices, or acolyte. The connections here between the violent sacrificial deaths (of humans and animals) and smothering motherhood further enunciate Camille's outside status, for her very name positions her as involved but detached, distant but near--an attendee or observer, a stranger."

"Amma's fascination with the objectified animals [pigs] hints at her own internalization of patriarchal methods of violence control, which she then internalizes through the act of murder, whereas Camille redirects the violence onto herself. Both methods expose the cyclic nature of patriarchal violence, suggesting that the antiheroine-stranger must either redirect such violence towards others or decide to harm herself, both of which operate as a coping mechanism and method of cathartic expression"

"Amma's violent transition into adulthood holds a mirror to Camille's own traumatic past, but Camille's social exclusion and strangeness are also exacerbated by her significant lack of a physical and symbolic place to call home...[Camille] hated being in Wind Gap, but home held no comfort either, with its "cheap transitory, and mostly uninspired" aesthetic only reinforcing her wandering and nomadic status. Conversely, the family home in Wind Gap is stagnant in its isolation and memories of Marian's death."

"The name of the town itself suggests a transitory place, a space defined by invisible forces, absence, and now, inexplicable crime. Camille's own childhood abuse at the hands of her mother is suggested from the moment she reinhabits her childhood hom, for her dreams begin to confuse memory, fear, and unreality...It is the reconnection of the self with the familiar, transitory space that allows Camille to confront the horror and realities of her past. Further grounding of this dream as symbolic of her own past is Camille's discovery shortly afterwards of Natalie Keene's corpse, found in a physically liminal location...Natalie's body, simultaneously innocent and defiled, speaks to the sexual anxieties surrounding female deviancy, sexual expression, and violence, confronting Camille with her uneasy relationship with her (strange) self and others. The positioning of Natalie's body is also fittingly gendered given that she refutes traditional binary gender performances in her own propensity for violence and her tomboy personality. Viscerally disturbed by the sight of Natalie's body--which is representative of the "utmost abjection--Camille also unknowingly faces the realities of her childhood and witnesses her potential future as a fatal victim of Adora's 'love'".

"Camille's position as a stranger...clouds her ability to find the truth efficiently, yet it also empowers her to find answers eventually."

"Camille unrelentingly confronts the boundary of life and death, actively skirting the borderline to gain a sense of control over her own body and identity...It is only because of her position as a recognizable stranger that Camille is able to confront the truth of her past and expose both Amma's and Adora's crimes."

"...Camille engages with the borderline between life and death as a way of reconciling her inner turmoil...."

-From, "To Start: I Should Never Should Have Been Born": The Antiheroine as Stranger in Gillian Flynn's Sharp Objects and Gone Girl by Eleanore Gardner

#Sharp Objects #Camille Preaker #Amma Crellin #Adora Crellin #I'm back at it again with the sharp objects meta-analysis bullshit #god this whole paper fucks hard #like I tried to shorten the post #but my universal being this shit went to hard for me to cut anything #Please enjoy my hyperfixation #Camille Preaker you are [ ] #tw self harm

[ateez-ana]

i have the time of my life fighting dragons with you

relashionship with ateez members

Yeosang:

these kindred spirits found themselves drawn together, embarking on a journey that would not only shape their careers but also forge an unbreakable bond.

Their bond transcends mere friendship, blossoming into a pillar of unwavering support and a safe haven amidst the storms of life. They are each other's confidants, offering a listening ear and words of encouragement during challenging times. Yeosang's quiet strength provides a calming presence, while Ana's nurturing spirit offers unwavering support, creating a refuge where they can be vulnerable and true to themselves.

Their relationship is not without its playful moments. They often engage in lighthearted banter, teasing each other with inside jokes and affectionate jabs. However, beneath the playful surface lies a deep understanding and empathy for each other's experiences, dreams, and aspirations

The relationship between Yeosang and Ana has captured the hearts of fans worldwide, who are drawn to their genuine affection for each other, their unwavering support, and the purity of their connection.

In a world often filled with fleeting connections and manufactured relationships, Yeosang and Ana's bond stands as a beacon of purity and authenticity. Their love transcends the boundaries of mere friendship, weaving a tapestry of shared dreams, unwavering support, and a connection that resonates with the depths of their souls. It is a love that has enriched their lives, inspired fans worldwide, and proven that true love can indeed exist in the whirlwind of the K-pop industry.

When Yeosang finds himself the target of playful pranks by his fellow members, Ana steps in with a gentle yet firm demeanor, ensuring that the teasing remains lighthearted and respectful, during a practice session, as the other members playfully tease Yeosang about his dance moves, Ana gently intervenes, reminding them that while they can joke with each other, they should always respect each other's feelings.

Beyond the playful banter of their group, Ana also shields Yeosang from the harshness of negative comments and online criticism. She understands the emotional toll such negativity can take, and she stands as a protective barrier, shielding him from the hurtful words of others, during a group interview, when Yeosang hesitates to share his thoughts on a creative project, Ana nudges him gently, encouraging him to speak up and share his unique perspective. She believes in his creativity and wants him to shine with confidence.

She is his confidante, his source of strength, and his unwavering defender. Her love for Yeosang manifests not only in her protective actions but also in her unwavering belief in his talents and his worth as an individual

yuhno

golden retriever boy and Maine Coon girl

Their relationship is not without its playful moments. They may tease each other gently, engage in friendly banter, or even pull lighthearted pranks on each other. This playful dynamic adds a touch of humor to their interactions and strengthens their bond through shared laughter and experiences.

Yuhno, known for his energetic and mischievous personality, often uses their height difference as a source of amusement, engaging in friendly banter that adds a touch of humor to their interactions. Ana, known for her quick wit and playful nature, often responds to Yuho's teasing with her own witty retorts. She might playfully remind him that being tall doesn't always mean you're better at everything, or she might jokingly suggest that she can see things he can't because she's closer to the ground.

practice vocal harmonies duo, they always sit close to each other,Yuho and Ana have both mentioned enjoying video games, so it's likely they spend time together playing multiplayer games or competing against each other Yuhno and Ana prepared for their highly anticipated Mario Kart showdown. The stakes were high: the loser would have to perform their latest song in front of atinys complete with a silly dance routine.

Yuhno, the self-proclaimed Mario Kart champion, exuded confidence as he selected his trusty character, Rainbow Road, a track notorious for its unpredictable twists and turns. Ana, determined to prove her underdog status, chose the adorable Toad.

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez 9th member

[accountsend]

Mastering Social Selling: Unveiling the Magic of Social Media for B2B Sales Triumph

The realm of B2B sales is undergoing a seismic shift, propelled by the integration of social media. Social selling, a strategic approach that transcends traditional methods, empowers businesses to cultivate authentic relationships, nurture trust, and fuel sales growth. Yet, the mastery of social selling is not attained through mere online presence; it requires a strategic blueprint that resonates deeply with potential B2B customers, forging connections on a personal level. This comprehensive guide unfurls seven pivotal strategies, each holding the key to unlocking the immense potential of social selling. Join us as we embark on a journey through the art of leveraging social media to catalyze B2B sales and foster enduring business expansion.

Download the infographic here!

Understanding Your Audience: The Keystone of Success

Embarking on the path of mastering social selling begins with a profound understanding of your audience. This goes beyond surface-level demographics; it's about delving into their aspirations, behaviors, and their preferred digital playgrounds. The reservoir of insights strewn across social media platforms arms you with the tools to craft intricate buyer personas. These personas serve as navigational stars, steering your social selling strategy towards authentic resonance with your intended audience.

Choosing the Right Platforms: Crafting a Strategic Presence

In the intricate dance of B2B sales, each social media platform offers a distinct melody. Making the right choice can be the difference between success and obscurity. Consider the allure of LinkedIn, a fertile ground for verified B2B leads owing to its professional ambiance. Alternatively, platforms like Instagram and TikTok cater to a younger, digitally-immersed audience. Choosing the right platform is tantamount to orchestrating engagement that resonates deeply and drives meaningful outcomes.

Crafting Valuable Content: The Soul of Social Selling

At the core of social selling lies content – the conduit that links you with your audience. The consistent delivery of valuable, relevant content is the heartbeat of your strategy. This content spectrum could span from dissecting industry trends to crafting insightful blog posts and sharing personal anecdotes. The ultimate goal is to position yourself as a beacon of trusted insights, priming your audience for a receptive embrace of your sales proposition.

Authentic Engagement: Beyond Likes and Shares

Social media isn't a billboard; it's a bustling marketplace of interactions. Authentic engagement trumps passive content dissemination. Engaging with comments, sparking meaningful discussions, inviting feedback, and acknowledging shares and likes cultivate an environment of reciprocity. This engagement metamorphoses your audience from passive observers to active participants, forming a connected community built on trust and loyalty.

Leveraging Social Listening: Insights as Catalysts

Enter the realm of social listening – a strategic art that extends beyond surface observation. Actively monitoring platforms for brand mentions, industry keywords, and competitor movements grants you unparalleled market intelligence. These insights become the rudder that guides your social selling ship, enabling you to anticipate customer needs, identify trends, and outpace competitors. In the realm of social selling, insight is indeed the power.

Nurturing Relationships: The Heartbeat of Social Selling

At its essence, social selling is relationship-building, not just transaction-peddling. Cultivating authentic connections with potential customers is an investment that reaps loyalty and sales growth. This may involve sharing personalized advice, valuable resources, or simply offering words of encouragement. Over time, these connections flourish into robust customer loyalty, a bedrock for enduring success.

Measuring Success: Insights from Analytics

In the digital age, measurement is the compass for growth. Social media platforms offer a trove of analytics, serving as the lighthouse guiding your way. By interpreting engagement rates, follower growth, and conversion metrics, you unearth insights that illuminate your path. This analytical approach empowers you to fine-tune your strategy, ensuring that every move is calibrated for success.

In conclusion, mastering social selling is a strategic journey guided by insight. Armed with an intimate understanding of your audience, judicious platform selection, valuable content creation, authentic engagement practices, adept social listening skills, relationship cultivation, and analytical acumen, businesses can harness the dynamic power of social media to drive B2B sales. Within this ensemble of strategies, the [Business Owners Database, Verified B2B Emails, B2B Contact Database, CEO Email Addresses, Sales Leads Database, B2B Email List, B2B Leads Database, Verified Business Leads, and B2B Leads List] become your allies, propelling connections, nurturing enduring relationships, and catalyzing growth. The era of redefining B2B sales beckons – are you prepared to seize it?

#AccountSend #BusinessOwnersDatabase #VerifiedB2BEmails #B2BContactDatabase #CEOEmailAddresses #SalesLeadsDatabase #B2BEmailList #B2BLeadsDatabase #VerifiedBusinessLeads #B2BLeadsList #Youtube

[real-jaune-isms]

How Robin Would Confess: A Lesson in Vocabulary

*Zoro is sitting on a bench in the gym, napping after completing a workout and being cooled by the breeze coming in through an open window. Robin suddenly emerges through the trapdoor with a book in hand and the noise rouses him to look over and see her. A smile and nod is all they need for her to sit on the opposite side of the room and start quietly reading while he returns to his rest. But after a few minutes she clears her throat to get his attention and he wakes up to listen to whatever she's going to say*

Robin: Zoro, do you know what sublime means?

Zoro: Well I don’t hear a word like that too often, but I’m pretty sure it means amazing and perfect. That about right?

Robin: More or less, that’s what it tends to mean these days, yes. But the true meaning is much deeper, and I think you might enjoy hearing it.

Zoro: I probably won’t have a reason to use it much, but sure go ahead. Robin: Sublime is a descriptor for something that is possessing the power and grandeur to induce awe and veneration in the mind of the beholder. It's something that possesses a wildness and power that transcends human ability to control or even comprehend. Zoro: *sitting up a little more straight* Is that so? Robin: *giggles at Zoro being just as interested as she thought he would be* Indeed. Things like standing on the edge of a canyon leaning as far as you dare over the edge and still not seeing the floor below, waking up in the middle of the night in the heart of a thunderstorm, or more apt for people like us, soaring straight up through the clouds on the Knock-Up Stream with the wind in our sails. Zoro: I think I getcha. So sublime is the word for an untamable force of nature whose grandeur brings you to your knees in awe and terror? Robin: Precisely! For instance, I think you're sublime~ Zoro: *is speechless and blushing, mouth agape* Bu-wu-huh?... Robin: Fuhuhuhu!~ You're so adorable, Zoro-kun~ *she gets up and crosses the room to sit next to him* We both know things between us have been growing steadily closer, more flirtatious, and it's taken some time to decide what that might end up meaning. I've wanted to tell you just how much you mean to me for a while now, and I simply couldn't find a better word for you than that so I wanted to be sure you knew what I meant by it. You are sublime, Zoro. And to put it a little more plainly... Zoro: *holds up a hand* I think I can guess what you wanna say, you don't have to say it. Robin: I'm afraid I insist. I had to gather my courage to come up here and say it, I want to see it through. And you deserve to hear someone tell you this. Zoro: Dammit, and I thought the cook was sappy... Robin: Roronoa Zoro... I love you~ Zoro: I know. Robin: *pouting* Would you please take this seriously?? You know what troubles I've had with opening my heart... Zoro: I do, yeah. Which is why I could tell it was for real when you started falling for me. It felt pretty significant, so I've been taking it seriously the whole time and trying to decide if I was good enough for that love. I've always trusted your judgement with big decisions though, so if I'm what you want then I must be doing something right. So, I know you love me. And I love you too, Robin~ Robin: *smiles brightly and wraps an arm around his before leaning over and giving him the kiss this romantic moment so rightly deserves* For the record, with the exception of keeping an internal compass, I think you do everything right, Zoro-kun~ Zoro: Hmph. Well I know how to find... this. Robin: *arching her back and gripping the cushion beneath them* Aahhhhh!~ W-Well... I can think o-of worse ways to christen a relationship~ *Anything further is silenced by another kiss, and from that point onward neither of them keep their hands idle*

#one piece #one piece shippost #one piece shipping #roronoa zoro #nico robin #zorobin #zoro x robin #yes I threw in a reference to han and leia #and this was based on the definition of sublime I found in a post about #addams family values #zorobin have big gomez and morticia energy to me #you all know what is about to happen next

[aboutanancientenquiry]

Herodotus and the Odyssey

"Just as Herodotus acknowledges the Homeric Iliad at the beginning of his prologue, so too he acknowledges the Homeric Odyssey at its end in describing himself as ὁµοίως σµικρὰ καὶ µεγάλα ἄστεα ἀνθρώπων ἐπεξιών, ‘traversing alike the small and large cities of men’ (1.5.3). This is a clear allusion to what is said of Odysseus in the proem of the Odyssey, πολλῶν δ’ ἀνθρώπων ἴδεν ἄστεα καὶ νόον ἔγνω, ‘He saw the cities of many men and came to know their thought’ (1.3).40 One obvious function of this allusion is to suggest the geographical sprawl of Herodotus’ work, which actually transcends the travels of Odysseus in mapping or seeking to map the entire known world and its culturally diverse inhabitants. More broadly, John Marincola has discussed at length various aspects of the Homeric Odysseus’ character and experience that are relevant to the persona Herodotus constructs for himself throughout the Histories. These include Odysseus as the prototypical explorer, whose travels and inquiry produce extraordinary knowledge; and Odysseus as a storyteller who recounts his own adventures, with a special sensitivity to the possibility of reversals of fortune, and a sophisticated sense of the complicated relationship between truth and falsehood.41

Within our immediate context, it is important not merely to acknowledge the Homeric reference, but also to observe how Herodotus modifies it to reflect a defining principle of his own historical perspective. Expanding upon the Odyssean theme of reversal of fortune, Herodotus explains his decision to discuss small and large cities alike as follows (1.5.4):

τὰ γὰρ τὸ πάλαι µεγάλα ἦν, τὰ πολλὰ αὐτῶν σµικρά γέγονε, τὰ δὲ ἐπ’ ἐµεῦ ἦν µεγάλα, πρότερον ἦν σµικρά. τὴν ἀνθρωπηίην ὦν ἐπιστάµενος εὐδαιµονίην οὐδαµὰ ἐν τὠυτῷ µένουσαν ἐπιµνήσοµαι ἀµφοτέρων ὁµοίως. (I will traverse small and large human cities equally,) because most of those that were large long ago have become small, and those that were large in my own time were small in times past. And so I will mention both equally, because I know that human happiness never remains in the same place.

While Odysseus’ remarks on peripeteia in the Odyssey concern individual reversals of fortune that take place within the span of a single lifetime,42 Herodotus broadens this perspective in two ways. First, he highlights the fates of cities or civic communities rather than individuals; second, he expands the chronological horizon, in a significant if unspecific way, to include the time span from ‘long ago’ (τὸ πάλαι) to his own day (ἐπ’ ἐµεῦ) and indeed beyond: by describing the cities of his own day with a past tense (the imperfect verb ἦν), Herodotus anticipates the temporal perspective of his future readership.43 Of particular interest is Herodotus’ final explanatory statement that he will mention both great and small cities alike because of his knowledge (ἐπιστάµενος) that human prosperity never stays in the same place. Although ἐπίσταµαι is by no means a rare verb in the Histories, its participial form, when used to introduce words of gnomic wisdom, evokes the special status enjoyed by performers of song during the archaic period, poetic σοφοί or ἐπιστάµενοι, ‘sages’ who were revered as sources of authority and expertise.44"

From the article of Charles C. Chiasson "Herodotus' Prologue and the Greek Poetic Tradition", Histos 6 (2012), 114-143

#herodotus #the histories #homer #the odyssey #odysseus #charles c chiasson

[tawakkull]

ISLAM 101: Spirituality in Islam: Part 186

A’yan ath-Thabita and ‘Alam Al-Mithal (Archetypes and the World of Representations or Ideal Forms)

In Sufi terminology, archetypes are the established, existential origins of things in the realm of Divine Knowledge. They consist of the manifestations of the Divine Names in the realm of Knowledge, and they denote the existential essences that pertain to the origins of contingencies. Although the relationships of these spiritual forms or existential essences in the realm of Knowledge with the Divine Being seem to be within the frame of time, they are beyond time. The limitless content of Divine Knowledge is different from the existential essences that are individually or collectively identified within the frame of time. Even though whatever exists in Divine Knowledge has some sort of individually or collectively identified existence, it is equally possible whether it will be brought into external existence or not within the dimensions of time and space.

It is a fact that whether they are Sufi leaders or theologians, those who have expert knowledge of this subject have lacked the words with which to express the issues that pertain to the transcendental dimensions of existence; indeed, they take great care in order to avoid any confusion. As mentioned before under the of Effusion, they call the Divine manifestation on the archetypes, which is a Divine mystery whose essential nature we cannot know, the Most Sacred Effusion, while the manifestation considered to be the origin of the archetypes emerging as existent beings and things within the dimensions of time and space is termed the Sacred Effusion. By such designations, scholars not only remind us that the archetypes and the contingencies that have been brought into the time and space-bound realm of existence are different from one another, they also focus our attention on the difference between manifestation (tajalli) and emergence (zuhur), thus stressing the Qur’anic truth concerning the beginning and process of the creation of the universe. This truth can never be reconciled with the philosophical approaches of monism and pantheism.

I think that since some cannot avoid going into extremes, they cannot preserve balance in approaching the most sublime Divine truths and thus fall into many grievous faults. Those who concentrate on the all-encompassing Divine Will and the all-overwhelming Power ignore the universe and view all things as if they were God’s incarnates, while others who focus on things and beings themselves, together with the apparent causes for their existence, take on views of naturalism or materialism. However, the unity or uniformity of or the interconnectedness in existence comes from the unity of the Origin of manifestation, while the almost limitless variation among and multiplicity in things and beings issue from the different dispositions or operations of the archetypes in the Divine Knowledge by the Divine Will and Power.

Self- existence with all its parts is one thing; things and beings appearing in different mirrors of existence in all their varieties through the manifestations of the Divine Knowledge and Existence is another. If we can perceive this difference, we will be able to notice the aspects of existence which lead some to the doctrine of the transcendent Unity of Being, and some others to the Unity of the Witnessed, and understand the difference between the essence and the form, and between the One Who gives existence and makes subsist and those who are brought into existence and made to subsist. We can explain the differences in question in plainer terms as follows:

Things and beings are not existent by or on account of themselves, but they exist by God’s bringing them into existence or by being the shadows of the light of God’s Existence from behind numerous veils. Apparent or superficial existence is one thing, and real, substantial existence is another. Forms and appearances are reflections as gifts from Him; they are neither identical with Him nor independent of Him. He said to them, “Be!” and they were. When He cuts off His effusion, they will disappear. Assertions such as Divine incarnation, existential union with Him, being an embodiment of Him, and His being a pervasive Soul—these and other similar assertions are all false. What gives external existence to all things and beings are the manifestations of His Attributes and Names:

If you focus on the forms, you will see that both you and I exist— But in absolute, transcendent reality, neither you nor I exist.

Now, as it is the All-Living, All-Subsisting One Who gives existence and subsists, who can have the right to claim self- existence? Everything’s existence depends on His Existence and Knowledge; whatever exists is a mirror in which His Names manifest themselves as being ultimately responsible for anything that occurs in it. Humanity is the most comprehensive and polished of these mirrors, and the Master of creation, upon him be perfect blessings, is the most perfect and complete of these. What follows is an anonymous couplet expressing this:

Whatever exists in the universe is a mirror and subsists by Him; It is God Who is constantly reflected in the mirror of Muhammad.

Without considering the First Identification, the archetypes are contingencies which are regarded as non-existent in one respect. When they first emerge, they are hidden and not known; and when they are sent into existence, they continue their non- existence on account of themselves. They serve as veils for the manifestations of Divine Knowledge and Existence. As this service of veiling is, in the words of Bediüzzaman, required by the Divine Dignity and Grandeur so that those who reason superficially should not see the Hand of Power as directly related to certain seemingly insignificant or vile things and affairs, it must also be in order to guide humanity, which has been honored with vicegerency—the administration of the earth according to God’s law—to be careful about their considerations of the Divine Being and His manifestations.

As in the world, which is the realm of existence and decline, the manifestations of the Divine Majesty and Grace also follow one another in the realm of the archetypes. While the Divine Majesty manifests Itself to destroy, the Divine Grace invents. These manifestations continue after those of archetypes which have been decreed to be sent into the realm of perceptible existence have been clothed in existence. It can be said that every existent thing bursts forth out of the spring of archetypes and becomes an “ideal reflection or representation,” or “form.” Then, these forms are clothed in perceptible existence.

All of the attributes to be manifested by beings in the corporeal world, including conflicting ones such as light and darkness, good and evil, bliss and wretchedness, have already been determined while they are in the World of Representations or “Ideal Forms.” However, a conscious, responsible being’s nature as good and blissful or evil and wretched is determined according to his or her future choice in this corporeal world. No one other than the All-Knowing of the Unseen can judge them until their state becomes apparent in the corporeal world. However, God may inform some of His “purified, chosen servants” about their “future” states and natures while they are in the World or Realm of Representations or “Ideal Forms.” This is an exception and therefore beyond the sphere of our duties or responsibilities. The statements or declarations of the All-Knowing of the Unseen in the Qur’an in reference to these are sometimes about their states in the Realm of Representations, and sometimes about those in the corporeal world. So, those unaware of this fact may confuse one with the other. For example, the Qur’an’s declaration regarding Satan to mean, He was from among the unbelievers, without considering his rebellion, is concerned with the archetype of Satan, while its description, He grew arrogant and became one from among the unbelievers (2:34; 38:74), is about his state after he rejected God’s order when, therefore, the signs of his rebellion appeared.

Some saints can at times observe the states of the archetypes plainly or in the form of symbols as in dreams. This is a special, extraordinary favor from God to them. God sometimes informs them about certain future events and so reminds them of some points peculiar to them. It sometimes occurs that the Almighty sends these heroes of self-possession some signals regarding impending dangers, directing their hearts to prayer and supplication. At other times, they are reminded of the necessity of preserving the balance between the means and material causes and the Causer of causes, being called to focus on the Divine absolute Unity.

The information and observations mentioned concerning the archetypes are usually presented to God’s specially chosen, purified servants in the forms of “ideal” tablets. These tablets are manifested either identically with their future, corporeal existential forms, or in symbols according to their meaning and contents. Symbolic representations require interpretation, like unclear dreams. Their interpretation is possible through knowing or discovering the key words or terms in the Qur’an and the authentic Prophetic Traditions. Any interpretation made without this knowledge means “throwing random stones at the Unseen” and therefore amounts to disrespect for the All-Knowing of the Unseen.

The realm or the world where the immaterial forms or models belonging to the archetypes are reflected and represented is called “the World or the Realm of Representations or Ideal Forms,” and the forms or reflections in this World are termed “the ideal or reflected forms.” The perceptible, corporeal forms are the shadows of these ideal or reflected forms. Some of the ideal forms are purely spiritual, while others have some perceptible figures. The realm where the former reside is called “the World of Absolutely Ideal Forms,” while the realm where the latter reside is known as “the World of Specified Forms.”

Some see the World of Representations or Ideal Forms as the representations or reflections of corporeal forms and events in our world of sensations in their particular energetic covers. This can be exemplified by the appearances of spirits and angels in certain forms in our world. There are so many simple (not composite) natures which belong to the Realm of the Spirit and the Divine Commands or the pure, primordial natures as the first results of the Divine commands that they can appear in the corporeal world in certain forms by God’s will; they appear in the corporeal world to the extent allowed by the Divine Names primarily manifested on each. They can appear and exert some influence on the physical world as mere causes. There are many reliable Prophetic reports that knowledge appears in the form of or is represented by milk, and that Islam is symbolized by a splendid container; the Qur’an, as honey or an orange; and the feeling of enmity, as snakes or vermin.

Some Sufis see the Realm of Representations or Ideal Forms as broader and maintain that this realm is the intermediate between this world and the Hereafter, and between matter and spirit, and the realm of immaterial sacred spirits. According to these considerations, the World of Representations or Ideal Forms is an intermediate bridge over which meanings or purely spiritual identities pass in order to attain a new identity and nature; it is a mysterious corridor between the physical and metaphysical worlds, a veil between two different dimensions, a point of meeting for abstract truths and concrete realities, and the horizon that separates the perceptible and imperceptible from each other. There are some who see this world as a realm where meanings or abstract truths begin to be clothed in worldly existence. Abstract or immaterial identities become familiar with the silky robe of external or perceptible existence in this intermediate realm, and they set off toward further realms from this dock with the equipment that they have been given.

Dictionaries of religious terminology define the intermediate realm also as the special corridor that connects this world and the Hereafter, or the process that begins with death, continues with the life of the grave, and ends in the Resurrection; or as the point where the world of spirits and abstract meanings meets with the corporeal realm, or as the passage between the horizon of the heart and spirit and the carnal life.

Not only is every ramp or platform from which things and beings jump to another stage—where they will be given a different nature and identity during their journeying of existence from the “initial or first identification or determination” to corporeal life— called the Intermediate Realm, but the realm of life beginning with death is also known as the intermediate life. According to the first meaning, the intermediate life is a bridge between the spirit and the body or between the abstract and the concrete. According to the second meaning, it is like a waiting lodge that resembles both the Unseen and the corporeal realms at the point where the world and the Hereafter meet. Everyone will pass across that bridge and those whom God wills will call at that waiting lodge and afterwards go on toward the other world in different ways, according to their equipment or acquisitions.

Some Sufis mention another intermediate realm which they call Barzakh Jami’ (the Encompassing Intermediate Realm). This is a term used to denote the original or essence of all the intermediate realms, which is another name for tajalli wahidiya (God’s manifestation of all His Names throughout the universe or on an entity), or ta’ayyun awwal (the initial or first identification). The Encompassing Intermediate Realm is also called “the First Intermediate Realm,” “the Grandest Intermediate Realm,” or “the Greatest Intermediate Realm.” The essence of this Realm is the meaning or spirit of humanity and its seed and fruit is haqiqat Ahmadiya (the Ahmadi Truth or the Truth of Ahmad).[1] In the words of Bediüzzaman Said Nursi, the Prophet Muhammad’s light is the ink of the Pen of the Author of the universe. It is also the seed of the fruit of the tree of creation, the key to all the Gardens of Paradise, the insurmountable wall before Hell, the alchemy of the happiness of hearts, and the genuine, sole guide to human excellencies and perfections.

May perfect blessings and peace and the most honorable of benedictions be upon him and his Family and Companions.

[1] For haqiqat Ahmadiya or Ahmadi Truth or the Truth of Ahmad, see note 53. 

#allah #god #islam #muslim #quran #revert #convert #convert islam #revert islam #revert help #revert help team #help #islam help #converthelp #how to convert to islam #convert to islam #welcome to islam

[akashigadabi]

Heartsong

Pairing: Yandere All For One x Consenting Reader

Summary: It’s late, and you’re listening to All For One’s heartbeat in the darkness and silence of your room.

Word Count: 673

Genre: Romantic Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Everything Is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts

Rating: M (for Reader’s own spicy thoughts LMAO)

Warnings: Soft Vibes, Reader Being Soft, Consensual Relationship, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Suggestive Language, All For One being asleep the entire damn time

Other: Reader has a quirk. Reader is written so reader is gender neutral as far as gender/gender identity and romantic or sexual orientation.

Ao3.

Delicate shadows hover throughout the room like gauzy black clouds. Your cheek rests just below your husband’s bare chest, nestled against the upper part of his tummy. Quiet thrumming fills your ear where it presses into the skin over his heart. Every beat of it fills you with a soft sense of awe. What a blessing to hear this sweet sound. An hour passes as you bask in the wonderful melody. Somehow, someway, something so inherently fragile keeps the powerful man lying beneath you alive. It seems surreal on some level. How could such an otherwise insignificant little thing fuel someone so sublime?

Doki-doki doki-doki doki-doki.

Such a tiny thing, yet it’s the hardest working muscle in his body. It’s almost comical, in a sense. After all, he’s jacked from head to toe. Every inch of him ripples with muscle. As you contemplate the fickle nature of life, you run your fingers over the thick cords encased in the tender flesh of his thighs, marveling at how firm they feel. You think absently about how he could kill somebody with these, with just the right amount of pressure exerted. It should scare you on some level, but it doesn’t.

Why would it? With every dull thud, All For One lives. All For One, who loves you. All For One, who swore his loyalty and devotion to you. All For One, who comforts you during rough times, who kisses away every tear, who showers you with gifts and affection. All For One, who seems like a work of art, even shrouded in late-night darkness.

Pale moonlight colors his white hair silver. It paints his eyelids a pretty lilac. The faint light managing to creep around the edges of the curtain bathes him in an ethereal glow. Now more than ever, he looks like an angel. A fallen one, since there’s just something a little too sinful about him even in slumber to allow you to associate him with too much purity.

Those slutty hips of his don’t help his case. They suggest debauchery even when he’s just laying in bed sleeping. Curious, that. It’s not all on you, either. All For One radiates it in his aura at a constant rate.

Anyone could look at him and tell that he fucks. They’d know as soon as they laid eyes on him. It’s in that sultry way he walks as much as that saucy drawl of his. It’s the way he carries himself, as if he could seduce your spouse and your parents on the same day.

Too pretty by half you croon internally, nuzzling your nose along his skin. His scent floods your nostrils, making you want to lick him. Saliva pools on your tongue anyway, taunting you. The urge to bite him increases. You fight the feral instincts, because one taste won’t be enough. It never amounts to enough. Everything about him intoxicates you, including his voice.

No doubt he’d find your internal monologue and subsequent struggle amusing if he was awake. Instead, he sleeps without missing a wink. He tends to fall asleep after you so he can gaze at you until he loses his battle against unconsciousness. Tonight, exhaustion from work dragged him under far sooner than normal, leaving you alone with your musings and observations for the past hour. Like how soft his hair feels, or how smooth his skin is. Little things like that.

Yes, too pretty by half indeed. A transcendent being from another world in darling husband shape, still underneath your body except for the steady rise and fall of his chest as his breath curls in and out of his lungs. So you lay awake, humming low in your throat, and simply admiring. What better way to spend your time right now?

Doki-doki doki-doki doki-doki.

You can’t distinguish between the two songs anymore. They’ve intertwined like gentle but enthusiastic lovers. Your heartbeats mingle together, creating a new melody. Your eyes drift shut as a sigh escapes you. Contentment settles deep in your bones.

All is well.

#afo x reader #all for one x reader #bnha x reader #lov x reader #soft all for one #soft reader #gender neutral language #gender neutral reader #reader insert

[saintsenara]

atramentum bellatrix lestrange/lord voldemort teen | 1.9k words

when he ruled in majesty she would buy him an ermine-trimmed mantle, in byzantine purple with pearls at the throat. he would not wear it, but he would laugh - his soft laugh, the one you knew he actually meant - and kiss her without commanding her otherwise, and they would roll upon it like he was justinian - tyrannical and pious - and she was theodora - wanton and capricious - and they were actually in love. 

two lovers pass a halloween afternoon.

this piece was written for week eight of @ladiesofhpfest, on the theme of villainous vixens [you can find the masterlist for this week's fics here].

it's my second piece for this fest [the first - death (eaters) in paradise - is here] on one of my favourite ships: bellamort. i am obsessed with them, and the tragedy and - in my opinion - tenderness bound up in their canonical relationship.

author's notes under the cut

indeed, this piece is - sort of - the serious version of death (eaters) in paradise. both examine the same key theme - that voldemort is the only man of bellatrix's acquaintance who allows her to transcend the extremely restrictive gender roles which dictate the lives of magical women, particularly pureblood ones, and, therefore, the only man of her acquaintance who comes even vaguely close to offering her a notion of equality in his treatment of her. which, given that they are technically master and servant, is really saying something...

equally, both pieces examine the complexity of bellatrix's relationship with sex - and, in particular, the fact that she sees sex, pleasure, and her relationship with her own body as separate from the duty to wife- and mother-hood which she chafes against. this is also a theme i have drawn out in my writing on narcissa - such as in my piece other women and of purer blood.

here, bellatrix is thinking, morbidly, of how passion and desire is bound up with the fact that she is a murderer; how sex and death are linked for her; and how she is in love with a man who makes her feel alive, and who offers her something much more tangible than her loveless marriage, but who is not truly alive himself.

and yet, her love for him is still authentic. that voldemort retains the habits of his working-class upbringing is a recurring motif in my writing, with his tendency to take attic bedrooms - something he is not particularly upset by if his minions take as insulting - a particular feature of this. that bellatrix finds something more real in her thirteenth-best bed [i know that the question of whether shakespeare bequeathing anne hathaway his second-best bed was insulting or not is contentious - i'm choosing to interpret it as romantic] than she does in the sumptuous furnishings of the decaying manor house she inherited as a bride.

i've always wondered how bellatrix felt about voldemort's apparent death in 1981 - certainly, she must be suitably blindsided by it to lose all sense and attack the longbottoms [an attack which is not only morally bad but also just plain clumsy, and seemingly quite far removed from how the voldemort of the first war liked to conduct his operations], but she is also convinced at her trial that voldemort will rise again.

atramentum is sort of adjacent to that wondering, as bellatrix and voldemort spend what will be their last afternoon for fifteen years together, as rain pours down.

#asenora fics #bellamort #bellatrix lestrange #tom riddle #lord voldemort #atramentum #ladies of hp fest