#mirror refl
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𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐔𝐏, 𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄.
summary. your brilliant boyfriend zoro comes up with an idea when he sees you in nothing but a taunting two piece lingerie set.
pairing. roronoa zoro x f!reader
warnings/tags. mirror sex, penetration, fingering, oral sex (m), zoro calls you slut but affectionately, breath play, unprotected sex, banter, just you both being a cringy couple, bold is japanese, slightly ooc zoro??
wc. 4.3k
kazu’s note. *scratches head* uh- this was longer than i expected… oops
“fucking finally,” were the first words your boyfriend spoke after a long night. you chuckled, closing the door behind you and locking it shut.
“it wasn’t that bad,” you stretched your neck, laughing as the boy continued to grumble about his annoyance throughout the entire night. “everyone was having a good time, you’re the only grumpy one.”
“that might’ve been the worst night in my entire twenty-one years of living,” zoro plopped lazily on the bed, back flat with his chest facing the ceiling. he huffed childishly, limbs stretched at each extremity of the bed. “and that’s including the sabaody and thriller bark incidents.”
“all because we ran out of sake?” you couldn’t help the laugh you let out. he was being incredibly childish, so childish that you found it endearing.
“‘s not funny,” he mumbled, crossing his arms beneath his head as support. you shook your head unimpressed, and as if he could sense it, “it was the good kind too!”
“you have nobody else but yourself to blame for your ineptitude to enjoy yourself sober,” you teased, removing your diamond earrings and placing them on the dresser.
“tch, i don’t expect you to understand.” he retorted, although it lacked fire. you hummed in faux acknowledgment, moving towards the body length mirror to help yourself out.
you looked back at your reflection. a silk black dress that stopped mid thigh and was dangerously close to revealing a cheek. the dress hugged your body perfectly, every crevice and curve accentuated. it snug your frame just right, almost teasingly, and you couldn’t help the way your fingertips roamed over your body.
whenever you cleaned up, you cleaned up damn well. your eyes narrowed at the sight of yourself more.
“what a self-conceited woman,” your boyfriend joked from where he laid. you snapped out of your trance, finding his teasing gaze from the reflection of the mirror.
you returned the smirk back, “when you look this good, it’s hard not to be,” shifting your body, your hips moved so your backside could now be seen through the mirror. you eyed your ass in the tight material, satisfied at the stretch of the silk over your curve.
“my pretty girl.” zoro agreed, letting his eye rest once more. a smile fell on your glossed lips, a warmth spreading through your chest at his compliment. my pretty girl. for a man as non-verbal as zoro, you would take that compliment and never let it die.
the more you looked at yourself, you noticed the steel gray zipper stitched in the material. it brought you back to your senses, remembering you’d now have to switch into more comfortable clothing to sleep.
although you wish you had more moments to appreciate the dress, you felt yourself slowly growing tired. you stretched your arm behind your back, fingers attempting to find the zipper. when you managed to get ahold of the lever, you felt your arm struggle to pull it downwards.
you frowned, trying once, twice and another time. the muscles in your bicep began to burn from the movements, and so you let your arm fall down.
“hey baby,” you called out to your lover, eyeing him through the reflection of the mirror. you saw him open his singular eye, a lazy hum vibrating from this throat, “c’mere and help me with my zipper?”
“can’t do anything without my help, needy woman” he sighed, though lifting himself from the bed. he stretched his limbs with a groan, before walking over towards you.
you felt his presence behind you, and so you playfully rolled your eyes, assuring he could see you through the reflection. “‘m just so helpless without my incredibly strong and reliable boyfriend,” you fed on his ego, slapping his thigh encouragingly.
“i mean i am incredibly strong and reliable.”
“that you are, my love.”
“‘m also very skilled and observant. would never let you get hurt.”
“ah, whatever would i do without you?”
through the mirror, your boyfriend gave you one of his rare smiles— the one that exposed his adorable left dimple, pearly whites flashing, cheeks stretching wide. you cherished whenever the man would smile like this, since it only ever came every once in a blue moon.
you granted him a smirk, slapping his thigh once more, “now get on with it, my knight in shining armour.”
he placed a gentle kiss at the crevice of your neck, before putting his hands to work. you watched as he moved your hair out the way, dragging the zipper down slowly. his tongue poking at the inside of his cheek, and you ignored the heat in your stomach bubbling.
once the zipper landed right at your lower back, the dress dropped and pooled at your ankles swiftly, revealing your skimpy undergarments.
you blinked, momentarily forgetting you paired the silk dress with your black lace bra and matching thong. your boyfriend, on the other hand, blinked as his eye roamed from your back muscles, and moved down to the tattoo that sat right above your ass, before lowering his gaze down to cheeks.
you watched him amusingly, loving the way he was mesmerized by the set you wore. ironically, when you had purchased the set and offered to give a haul, he let you know he was nowhere near interested in what you and the witch bought.
when you brought your thoughts to words, he chuckled in disbelief, rough hands grazing down your warm skin, resting at your waist, “guess i’m a dumbass then,”
“you guess?” you joked, and when he raised his head to give you a flat look, you giggled in retaliation. his eye moved back to your backside, practically drooling over your flesh.
turning around, his sight was now replaced from your ass to your breast. “c’mon zee, you gonna keep looking or put your incredibly strong and very skilled hands to use?” you pressed your chest against him, draping your arms over his broad shoulders, offering an innocent smile.
he returned a smile, though far more mischievous than the previous one. his hands found their way around your middle, tugging you incredibly closer to him. his nose teasingly brushed yours, lips inches dangerously away from your own.
“gotta help my damsel in distress,” he mumbled with a feral grin, barely giving you a breath before locking lips with yours.
the kiss was slow and sensual. your boyfriend was taking his time, savouring your taste if the tilt of his head revealed anything. you hummed in appreciation, fingers moving to play with his short fringes, scraping his scalp gently.
and before you knew it, his tongue eagerly slipped into your glossy lips, slipping into your cavern and explored every inch of the warmth. his hands lowered and grabbed onto your mouldy flesh, feeling his rough callouses contrasting your soft skin.
you moaned softly into his mouth, enjoying the rub of your ass, simultaneously enjoying the way your front would rub teasingly against his. his hard-on was impossible to ignore, poking into your groin so naughtily, and surely enough you felt your panties dampen with your slick.
zoro pulled away just slightly, panting against your swollen lips, the feral grin returning on his mouth, “got a brilliant idea just now.”
you cocked an eyebrow, a smile following your words, “care to share?”
“you’ll see,” zoro gave you a light spank, feeling the delicious recoil beneath his palm, his smirk growing dangerously wider. “turn around for me, princess,”
you complied to his order, turned around and found yourself staring at your own reflection once again. it was only when you eyed your swollen lips and the devious stare behind you that you put the pieces together.
“got an idea yet?” zoro pressed his bulge into your ass, arms wrapping around around stomach. when you giggled, he smiled approvingly, resting his nose in between your shoulder and neck, taking an inhale of your intoxicating scent.
“‘m gonna blow your mind away,” his warm lips left trails of wet kisses along your neck. from beneath your ear, to the back of your neck, his kisses would grow harsher, teeth dragging your skin with intent to leave marks.
“blow me away then,” you sighed, throwing a hand back to find his hair. feeling tingles of pleasure where his lips would leave bites, heats of fire licked at your spine as his explored your upper body, eventually resting at your breast.
he took a greedy squeeze and you moaned before you could help it, the cold metal pierced through your nubs being tugged at. his hands slipped through your bra, fingers finding your nipples with practiced ease as he fondled the erect peak, while simultaneously massaging the tender flesh.
the breast play drove your mind to mush quicker than you anticipated, “hurry up, take it off already!”
zoro tsked, plunging his teeth particularly deeper into your neck, the sting making your legs buckle, “we’re keeping the set on. think of it as a makeup haul,”
“still your fault,” you grumbled childishly, and when he pinched your nipple and anticipated your squeal, he delivered a soft kiss at your jaw.
“m tryna make up for it, aren’t i?” he dropped a hand from your chest, fingertips trailing downwards. his hands stopped at your waistband, slipping his index past the elastic as he circled around your waist teasingly.
“we’re gonna play a little game, yeah?” he mumbled right within earshot, the words sending shivers through your body. in the pause between his words and your nod, he lowered his hand in your panties, pushing the flimsy string aside and used his thumb to graze just over your clit.
you stiffened at the discreet move, body yearning for more. he was being a teasing little shit, and as much as you wanted to call him out on it, you didn’t want to risk him leaving you in this state. you bit your tongue.
“simple rule; keep your eyes on yourself at all times. got it?” as if to demonstrate, his free hand grabbed at your jaw, tilting your chin so you’d be forced to stare at yourself.
you huffed in slight embarrassment. you looked a mess— in the process of it all, your hair had gotten messed up, neck littered in nasty love bites, lips swollen and gloss smothered around your mouth. of course he wanted to do this, the bastard.
“what’s wrong?” zoro hummed, though his taunting smirked showed anything but concerns. “thought it was hard to not keep your eyes off of yourself when you looked this good?”
“fuck off,” you rolled your eyes, and when the hand in your thong threatened to leave, your hand quickly gripped it and kept it in place. “fine, god you’re annoying,”
“what ever happened to my gentle damsel in distress?” he chuckled, thumb now rolling your clit around. at the touch you threw your head back, stomach churning at the pleasure. you could see from your peripheral zoro’s pointed gaze, before yanking your head back down, the grip on your jaw tightening.
“thought i told you to keep your eyes on yourself at all times?” he growled, teeth nipping at your earlobe. you whimpered, the hand on his gripping his wrist harder.
“hurry it up then!— please,” you pleaded, slowly losing your composure. behind you, zoro dragged his lips lower down your neck.
“only ‘cause you asked so nicely,” he cooed, wasting no time to plunge two fingers knuckle deep in your pussy.
the moan you let out was pornographic, the stretch of his thick digits burning so deliciously. his pace was slow but steady— experimentally fingering you, scissoring your walls with ease. your slick made the job easier, and only when it dribbled down your thigh had you noticed how horny you were.
“look at what i get to see regularly,” his hand guided you back to the mirror you’d subconsciously been inching away from. “wouldn’t it have been greedy to keep this all to myself?”
you were too out of focus to reply. you’d never seen yourself during sex before. and as embarrassing as it was, it also turned you on immensely. your buckling legs, the way zoro’s fingers would disappear into your cunt and come back out glossier than previously. your eyes moved up to your face, jaw dropped as you moaned and moaned like there was no tomorrow. drool collected at the corner of your mouth, eyes lidded as pleasure slowly consumed you entirely.
“my pretty little slut,” zoro leaned forward, cheek now in contact with yours, slipping in a third finger into your looser cunt. you whined are the addition, arms stretching forward to hold onto mirror for support. “see how good you look?”
he mumbled in your ear, soaking in the way you crumbled at his fingers alone. his cock twitched at the mere thought of seeing you see yourself fall apart on his dick. growing impatient, he growled, quickening his pace.
“zoro— oh fuck, right there!” you babbled, eyes rolling at back of your head when you felt his ruthlessly thrust at your sweet spot. the familiar yet different coil in your gut built, threatening to release at the pounding.
“eyes, my love.” he growled beastly, and you whined in annoyance, though forcing your gaze back into yourself. it was getting harder with the nips at your sensitive neck and your cunt sucking in and out his fingers.
“you’re squeezing me so tight,” at the words you clenched impossibly harder, focusing on chasing your release as quick as possible. “gonna cum for me, baby?”
“yes, oh yes! please let me cum!” you begged, legs stuttering as you barely held yourself together. if possible, his pace quicken and the thrusts grew sharper, his bicep flexing in the process.
“anything for my damsel,” a tough bite at your jugular and the multitasking of your clit and sweet spot being stimulated had you squirting hard.
the coil snapped and you moaned loudly, hardly considering the possibility of your crewmates hearing you. you melted as the liquid sprayed down your legs and onto the mirror. you watched yourself breakdown, drool now escaping your mouth and body quivering at the overstimulation.
“thought you said you were cumming baby?” zoro teased, removing his fingers from your panties and bringing them to your mouth.
still hazy, you eagerly accepted the wet digits into your mouth, moaning around his fingers at your taste. zoro watched with animistic intensity at the sight, his dick twitching vigorously.
“good job love, you did so well,” he brought his own fingers to his mouth, now savouring your saliva coating his fingers and the faint taste of your pussy.
“now,” he popped his hand away, placing them on your hips and turning you around. you raised an eyebrow in confusion, and so he explained himself. “mini pause on the game, i need some help. you willing to help me out?”
“do i even have a choice?” you snorted weakly, and when his hand cupped your jaw, index finger lifting your gaze to meet his, your eyes widened in surprise.
“‘course you do. ‘m not gonna make you do anything you don’t wanna do.” he pointed, sternly.
you heart swelled at his statement. you rolled your eyes playfully, swatting his hand away gently, “i know that, idiot, now lemme help you out,” you lowered down, opting to squat instead of kneeling.
when you looked back up, your boyfriend stared you down in an amused shock, “well that’s new,”
you shrugged, not wanting to admit you wanted to give him a good view through the mirror. you only hoped the intense workout sessions with him would pay off here.
“gonna whip out your dick now?” you asked, hands moving up to his zipper, only to have him stop your movements. you looked back up, ready to retort when it died down on your tongue at his teasing grin.
“no hands. can you take it?” he asked, bringing his free hand to your hair, pushing it out of your face.
your face twisted in annoyance at the nerve he had, competitiveness slowly bubbling in your veins. you kissed your teeth, hands flying to grip his thighs to accept his request.
“‘course i can, you’re talking to me here.”
“ah, whatever would i do without you?” he ruffled your head affectionately, loving the way your lips fell into an unintentional pout. “now, get on with it,”
you rolled your eyes at him using your own words against you, but decided to push past it. for now, you focused on how you were gonna pull his pants down without hands.
you leaned forward, teeth popping off the button of his dark jeans with ease. when you heard an approving grunt, you found yourself wanting to impress him further. and so, you bared your teeth out, finding the piece of steel and dragged it down slowly while keeping eye contact with him.
a smirk pulled at his lips at your dedicated eyes. he knew you’d be able to do it, you were his slut after all.
moving on, you managed to pull his pants down with a rather big bite. you were careful to not tangle his skin in the process, and the second the article of clothing moved past his mid thigh, gravity did its thing and finished the job for you.
you moved up and repeated the same cycle with his briefs, ignoring the way your pussy clenched around nothing at his musk. god, you wanted his dick in your mouth so badly. his briefs now hung at his mid thigh, his throbbing cock now hanging at your face.
“you did it,” he spoke the obvious, and when you gave him a flat look, he chuckled, “don’t give me that face, get on with it.”
you collected all the saliva in your mouth, eyes glued on the pretty brown tip of his cock. it leaked with pre, curving slightly to the left as the bottom of his large shaft was decorated with dark green pubes.
you were gonna reach down there.
and so you leaned forward, with the help of your hands stuck to his thighs, and greeted his tip with a kiss. you heard the man hiss, and so you took him further down, jaw slackening as bobbed down his cock.
you started slowly, dragging your tongue around his dick, the salty taste of his skin leaving a pleasant buzz in your head. though harder to manage, you didn’t back down as you took him even further down.
“there we go,” he grunted, the grip on your hair tightening. he held back the thought of guiding you down, turned on by the idea of you taking him in without his help. “just like that,”
saliva began to escape your mouth, jaw and thighs getting sore, but you knew you had to deal with the pain. you were determined to make him cum, without your hands.
taking a deep breath in, you leaned forward all the way down to his cock, nose meeting the dark green pubes. the smell of his hairs clouded your mind, and the guttural groan your boyfriend released made you leak.
“fuck—“ he cursed under his breath, watching as you went ham on his dick. you weren’t letting up, you moved up and down like your life depended on it, your thumbs rubbing circles on thighs and fingernails digging deep into his flesh.
your eyes caught his and though your mouth was occupied, zoro pictured the smirk you’d give him. he smirked back at you, and you understood as to why.
you went back to working up and down his throbbing cock, before pulling up and sucking harshly at his tip, just like how he likes it.
“god— okay, okay, that’s enough,” he used the grip on your hair and pulled you entirely off of him. you frowned, ready to voice out your annoyance but he cut you off before you could begin.
“needa cum in that pretty pussy of yours,” he lifted you up from your crouching stance. when you now fully stood, you felt the ache in your trembling thighs, “besides, you looked like you were having a hard time there.”
“i know you’re not talking,” you raised a singular eyebrow, amazed by the audacity of this man.
he chuckled, swiftly turning you around, and you were once again greeted with the view of yourself. he kissed your jaw, “game’s back on. remember my love, eyes on yourself.”
before you could roll your eyes, you felt the tip of his cock playfully rubbing at your lips. you bit your lip, holding back a moan threatening to release. the grip he had on your hips would surely leave bruises, but the taunts of his cock slipping in and out of your cunt made it feel worth it.
“put it in already,” you complained, feeling your brain melt at the teasing. you were so close to the feeling and whenever he felt as though you were ready to express your delights, he’d pull back out.
“i’d suggest holding the mirror,” he nodded his head, his tip waiting at your entrance. your arms tumbled towards the mirror, palms nearly slipping at your moistness.
you were finally granted the thrust he gave, you both moaning wantonly as you sucked in his dick greedily. your arms nearly gave out at the burn of his stretch, but you were far too greedy to care about it. you wanted more, and if you took your eyes off of yourself, he’d throw a fit.
“remember,” he growled, barely holding it together himself together. “eyes up or i swear to god i’m pulling out.”
a whine slipped past your lips, “okay, okay, hurry!” you moved your own hips back and forth, deciding to begin without him. he hissed at the feeling of your gummy walls accepting his cock so easily, your lips gripping him so naughtily.
and much to your satisfaction, he held your hips and began to pound you. he pounded into you brutally, so ruthlessly, never letting up. you wanted it? then he’d give it to you.
you cried in pleasure, watching your body jerk forward as you matched his thrusts, head bobbing without control as your breasts jiggled in sync. whenever he’d sink into you, he repeatedly attacked your cervix, his cock dragging at your walls and stretching you impossibly further.
you fingers curled and your knees buckled, though your eyes stayed glued to the mirror. you watched as his eye met you, an animalistic smirk stretched on his lips, watching with pride as he ruined you. he then lowered his gaze to your ass, the recoil of each bounce made him pound deeper, addicted to the movements.
“fuck, yes, oh zee, ‘s so good!” you bit your lip in attempt to muffle your moans, but the fingers that wrapped around your throat cut your breathing circulation briefly. you inhaled sharply, the lack of air fucking with your thoughts.
“god, look at you,” he growled, leaning forward and hitting a whole new spot. your vision began to fill with stars, the penetration hitting even further and nearly had you spasming in bliss.
“love having my hand around your neck, huh?” his grip tightened and god, how badly you wanted to cum. “want me to breed you and make you mine forever, ain’t that right?”
“yesyesyes!” you babbled, bringing your own hand to hold the one on your neck. zoro smirked impressively, lifting your body so you were now pressed against another. you felt his sweaty chest behind your back, and when his hand slipped forward to toy with your clit, you lost it.
you tilted your head back, lips inches away from his panting ones, “i’m cummin’! fuck, oh fuck— please let me cum, please!” your free hand moving back to grab ahold of his bulging bicep.
zoro’s lips twitched in anticipation, leaning forward to mumble the words on your plump lips, “‘m right behind you baby, cum for me,”
capturing your mouth with his before you could wake up the whole ship, you cummed and hard. you screamed in his mouth, tongue muffling your sounds as he milked out everything you had to offer.
zoro followed you shortly, groaning in your mouth, hips stuttering as he emptied his milky load into you. he rode out his orgasm, briefly forgetting you were now on the verge of overstimulation, focused on bringing you both down from your highs. your broken sobs indicated you were feeling as good as he was, sunken deep into your cunt as he painted your walls white.
eventually, he slowed his thrusts down, your whines music to his ears. when his thrusting stopped, he released the grip on your neck, his hand now moving to your stomach and resting around your waist.
though out of breath and nearly on the verge of passing out, you kissed your boyfriend as passionately as he kissed you back. his fingers, once gripping you tight, now rubbed shapes onto your skin soothingly. his touch left sparks of warmth all over your body, even after your promiscuous actions.
you pulled back, resting your head on his shoulder, panting heavily. you watched the view before you, and you had to admit it was rather charming to see zoro post orgasm. the way he eyed you with love made your chest flutter with butterflies.
“brilliant idea, by the way,” you spoke first, chuckling at the way his face lit up.
“right? ‘ve had this fantasy for so fucking long, can’t believe it took this long to do it,” he kissed your temple gently. you hummed in agreement. you couldn’t believe all it took was for him to pull your zipper down.
“oh,”
“what?” you looked back at him. his smirk deepened, and he brought his hand to rest at your neck, though with no pressure. you cocked an eyebrow in confusion.
“you lost the game. time for your punishment.”
… idk 😐
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Ateez's Full Storyline Explained - Part 25
Masterlist
Not Okay (Halazia-World)
We're still with Halazia Ateez, though this time we're learning their backstory, specifically the trauma they've experienced at the hands of their own central government before they were woken up
This theme is already made clear from the get go by the opening screen which tells us the dictionary definition of the word "Trauma" before it flashes to a distorted shot of Ateez
We cut to San running down a hallway, chased by masked people (which is cinematically reminiscent of San running from the guards in Guerrilla) but time doesn't seem to be working the way it should (we'll come back to that later)
We cut to Hongjoong who's in the process of being brainwashed (a method the Z-World central government has also used) with a phone that has been mechanically attached to his hand
On it, we can see, in order, the words: ALONE, MOTHER, LONELINESS, BEHIND (green to white), MISSING, ALONE (green), FAMILY, ALONE (green to white), BEHIND, FAMILY, ALONE, MISSING (white to green), ALONE, AFRAID, MISSING, BEHIND (white to green), MISSING (white to green), ALONE
Much like with the Jongho basketball situation we saw in Everything, it seems like A-World's Hongjoong and this Hongjoong share the same source of trauma: being alone without a family
We next join Yeosang and Seonghwa who are being used to test each other's strategic abilities (which is reminiscent of how students are being treated in Z-World)
We see both of them seated at opposite sides of a baduk board in a museum-esque building's foyer while they're being filmed by two production cameras that look like the Canon HD Digi Super 25 xs (does this matter? no. but i looked it up for no reason so now you have to know)
Seonghwa is playing as the black stones and Yeosang as white (as stated by Seonghwa and San in the MV Reaction video) which reflects in their wardrobe
The lyrics make it clear they're being forced to play against each other over and over again
We switch to Yunho who's standing at the top of the stairs in a darkened auditorium. A brief flash of light reveals a figure standing at the bottom of the stairs behind him (we'll get to see who it is shortly)
Wooyoung and Mingi are standing on a small platform surrounded by masked people while the screen behind them shows an audio visualizer, I assume they’re forcing them to record propaganda songs or something, given how we later see them have access to microphones
Shortly after, we get a hint of how traumatized San already is when he's alone in the hallway from earlier and already getting flashbacks of being chased by the masked people, trapped in the time loop
The lyrics here state "Fleeting days feel like a mirror image / Are you gonna let it repeat again?", signifying how they're beginning to break free of the victim mindset, ready to take control of their lives and break the cycle
We now return to Yunho in the auditorium where we get some quick shots of multiple versions of him existing within the space while a mysterious hooded person, who we can strongly assume to be his dead brother, is always moving around as well but always just out of Yunho's reach
We then get this quick shot of an oncoming car as we transition from Yunho to San which reinforces the parallel to A-World's Yunho whose brother was killed in a car accident (as you may remember)
We also get the caged bird metaphor again for Yeosang which we saw with A-World's Yeosang and which is once again picked up in IT's You
We then get a very clear visual of what they're doing to Jongho - he's on a bed, surrounded by screens where they're actively re-traumatizing and triggering him much like they're doing with Hongjoong
They're showing him video clips of runners, both human and animal, and cars traveling at high speeds which serves as a harsh reminder of his leg injury
As the screens comes closer to his face, the images begin to flash faster until we get to see his eyes which eventually reflect the words "WAKE UP"
And here is, once again, where my original Halazia theory comes in: this world's Ateez aren't the instigators of the rebellion in their world. Instead, they were awakened by their world's Black Pirates, joined their movement and then took over after the former leaders died.
From here, we'll slowly get to see all of Ateez wake up which is also the point where the meaning behind the song's chorus really hits home because this is the first time they're experiencing emotion in at least quite some time and they're confused about their whereabouts, traumatized after all that abuse, and fucking PISSED at the people responsible for all that misery:
This placе, where right and left arе unclear (Make some noise)
Feels like a maze (Make some noise)
Try again no matter how many times (Make some noise)
Nobody can stop us (Make some noise)
Raise your voice louder, scream louder
Don't be scared and let go, I'm not okay now
Roar louder, raise your both your hands and shout
You know that I'm not okay
We've now reached the point in the MV where Ateez are beginning to rebel, starting with Jongho screaming, San allowing himself to be captured, and Hongjoong trying to break free of the screen attached to his hand (this also serves as a callout for overexposure to screens, I'm sure)
Here, we also get to see the exact moment Hongjoong was awakened: the word "LOVE" gets reflected off his eye right before we cut to Mingi
Their rap verse makes it very clear they're sick and tired of being pushed around and told what to do
Move away, move away, I'm at my limit
I can't stand being at someone else's beck and call
We now move on to the less clear-cut part of the MV: the anomalies
First, we get the giant clock hands on the ceiling in the room Seonghwa and Yeosang were playing baduk in - this references, on one hand, the time loop/cycle they're all trapped in, but on the other hand, could also imply time-travel in the way we've seen before in Ateez lore as the hands are moving much faster than normal - a parallel to the sand flowing upwards in the hourglass when A-World's Ateez first received the Cromer in the Diary Film
We then get the floating smartphones surrounding Hongjoong which are a parallel to the objects floating around Hongjoong in the Diary Film
There's a shot of Jongho who's reaching for a mirror version of himself which looks a bit Inception-esque (the movie) after which we get a close up of his face which cracks like glass, implying he fully broke free from the brainwashing and he's justifiably angry
Given all the parallels with Inception and Diary Film, this leads me to assume that, in this world, it's Jongho who received the Cromer in a dream from his alternate self of yet another dimension
This could mean that the Black Pirates in Halazia were originally led by Ateez from yet another dimension but I'm not gonna speculate on that any further until something else hints at it
We get shots of San fighting the masked people in the hallway, Wooyoung performing on the stage surrounded by the black-clad people in masks who were already there when he was still with Mingi, and a shot of Yeosang crying
We then get San crawling along the deserted hallway, followed by a shot of an arm wearing a wristband with a small screen that flashes between the words "OBEY, MONEY, DO WORK" before a hand comes in to cover it
These are presumably Yeosang (wearing the band) and Seonghwa (the hand wearing the rings) as they're the ones we see a close up of right after
We next get to see Mingi putting in his earpods which is, once again, a parallel to Diary Film wherein A-World's Mingi would always put them in to listen to music when he needed to distance himself from reality
And we then close on Yunho who's on the stage in the auditorium when he finds the discarded clothes of his older brother. When he lifts them off the ground, bugs come scattering out, making it clear his brother has been long dead and become food for the bugs. Quite macabre.
From here, we switch to black and white as this world's Ateez are uniting against the people who've been torturing them which could mean they had to physically fight their way out of the brainwashing facility
Finally, we end on a shot of them together as a united front while the masked people are surrounding them, closing in
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Prologue: Godlings
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Masterlist | Chapter One: Swallow -> | Read on Ao3
Pairings: Satoru Gojo x f!reader
Summary: And the form leans down, closer, as their voice drops to a murmur, all honey and thorns, the promise of something far greater than you. A storm to come. The future that you will bear upon the slant of your shoulders. And when they speak, you know they’ve cursed you;
“I will teach you how to make a God.”
(Arranged marriage, angst, hurt/comfort, dark content)
Warnings (specifically for this chapter): Blood, slight gore, migraine-like pain, pain, introduction to unhealthy parental relationships, notes of sexism, arranged marriage between children, mention of parental death. **Please mind warnings overall and for each chapter**
Word Count: 4.7k
A/N: finally, it begins :,) it's been a long time coming. i'm pretty nervous for this one!! but i hope you enjoy!! let me know what you're thinking/feeling, if you love it, hate it, or otherwise!! lots of this went on the cutting room floor tbh so feel free to ask questions, come chat, etc.!! endless thanks to my lovely @lorelune who beta read this prologue, listened to me ramble for months, and has been an overall dear to me in general <3 without further ado, the prologue!
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Your mother is careful with your hair. She knows how to tend to it.
You are young, still a child, sitting in front of a mirror, in the crux of your mother’s lap. You are still and silent for her, lest she gently scold you.
She hums softly as her hands move deftly.
There is commotion outside your room.
Your mother pauses.
Voices approach the door. She freezes. Her fingers slip away from your hair as she cants her head to the side and listens. You have learned to follow your mother’s cues, like a fawn who goes wide eyed and unmoving beside the doe.
When the door flies open, your mother is quick to stand. Your hair is half done, parts of it slipping and falling around your neck, your shoulders. You stand, too, scramble up and feel her push you behind her legs.
But it’s just your aunt, out of breath, a little harried.
Your mother lets out a sigh of relief, almost annoyance when she realizes who it is. She allows you to peer around her legs.
“What is all the fuss abou–”
“Did you hear?” Your aunt interrupts, crossing into the room in a flurry. “The Gojo’s finally have a Six Eyes user.”
You see your mother’s hand, watch as it tenses in her skirts, before unfurling.
“What? They haven’t had one of those in–”
“Nearly one hundred years.” Your aunt finishes, as she tends to do. “Everyone’s astonished—they think the boy—Satoru, the young one—is going to restore the Gojo clan’s power.”
Your mother hums, her hand falling back down to the top of your head. Her fingers are careful, gently petting. “He’s only six or so, isn’t he?”
He’s two years older than you.
“Yes, so young. But he’s inherited Limitless and Six Eyes. It’s certainly stirred up the other clans.” Your aunt finally begins to fix her appearance after rushing here, smoothing away ruffled lines in her clothes and flyaway hairs. She is usually a pristine woman, if not an uptight one.
“Well, thankfully we’ve always been closer to the Gojo clan than others.” Your mother murmurs and something in her voice makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You peer up at her curiously.
But it’s your aunt’s eyes that finally land on you.
“Yes,” she says slowly, “but we could always be closer.”
You feel your mother tense, and you know that she is trying to keep a neutral face, “don’t start, please.”
“If she inherits our family’s own technique—if she has Foresight, or Hindsight—both, perhaps—“ Your aunt steps towards you and your mother. You cling tighter to your mother’s leg, but she does not move.
“Which we have not seen in nearly one hundred years ourselves—“ Your mother interrupts sharply.
“She’s shown signs.” Your aunt presses, “she’s just about his age.”
“She’s four.” Your mother bites out, reflexively ushering you back again. “I won’t entertain this.”
“What?” You ask.
Your voice, young and small, makes both of them pause.
“Nothing, darling.” Your mother says, lowering to be at your level, “nothing for you to worry about. Why don’t you pick out clips for me to put into your hair? I’m going to speak with your aunt for just a moment.”
Her hands are gentle, as they guide you back to the vanity. She opens a drawer for you, where countless gleaming clips and pins and hair sticks twinkle with soft noise as they’re jostled. You look up at her, knowing she is trying to distract you.
“But—“
“I’ll be back in a moment.” She hushes and then she is grabbing your aunt, and leaving the room.
The door shuts with a quiet click. You stare at it for a long time.
You finally pick through the hair clips, gently, as if not to disturb them. They are all jeweled and beautiful, all different colors; rubies and peaches and opalescent pearls.
But it’s a sapphire clip you pluck out.
And it’s infinitely blue, like an endless, summer sky.
***
Your cursed technique bursts to life inside of you at the age of seven. First Hindsight; the vision of your left eye spirals and you clutch desperately at it as pressure bubbles behind the socket.
For a horrifying moment, you think your eye will burst clear from your head.
You scream out; piercing, terrified. A child’s scream.
Pain surmounts inside of your eye swift and hot, a pulsing that arcs through you, that shudders through your skull. It radiates down to your jaw, your throat, zinging down the left side of your body. You push at your eye, like maybe you could keep it together, keep it in its place.
You barely hear the voices around you.
“Don’t touch her!”
“It’s her technique—“
Your screams taper into pained sobs, which rise in pitch when the darkness of your vision begins to twist and bend.
Your mother is held back. They won’t let her touch you or hold you or comfort you, for fear of ruining your vision of the past.
She screams with you, cries with you, clawing at her husband. At her sister. At everyone who tries to keep her from you.
Colors wash in and out, a heat burns at your eye, before a vision snaps into focus;
The tree you’d touched growing backwards, into a sapling, into a seed, into the ground that was once bare. A curse that roams the land. A bird that flies past, the seed returning to its mouth, to the sky.
You scream so loudly, so terribly, that you shred through your vocal chords.
You won’t be able to speak for a week after this.
And then, as if it’d never happened, your vision clears. The pressure recedes like the tide that finally pulls away from a battered shore. Your wailing tapers off to hoarse cries, fingers still clutching at your left eye.
And then arms are around you, cradling you, crying with you.
You bury your face into your mother’s neck and sob, heavy and heaving, like you know what this means. You cry like you’re already mourning the life ahead of you, like you knew this was the point of no return.
Maybe you did.
Your mother does.
She cries for you, for the role you will play, for the girl you will become. For what Time will demand of you.
She rocks you in her arms, cradling your aching head to her chest, your trembling body to her own.
Your left eye bleeds in rivulets down your cheek, smearing into the crème robes of your mother. It burns and burns and burns. Red blossoms like rose petals on the fabric of her clothes. It stains deep.
And when you lift your heavy head from her shoulder, your left eye is forever changed. Your clan gasps in soft awe.
Striking silver cuts through the original color of your eye, like a bolt of lightning, like the flash of a knife.
***
If receiving Hindsight was painful, then Foresight is agony.
Not long after, your right eye feels as if it’s been slashed open, caught on the claws of Time. It hurts so badly that you can hardly make a noise, a mangled gasp, before you drop like a stone, before the vision of your right eye tunnels sharply.
A stake has been driven through your eye, you are certain of it. It feels as if it’s gone clear through the right side of your skull. This time, your mother is the only one with you. You don’t know it, but she brings your head into her lap. It’s bleeding from where you fell. Her hand cups the wound, letting it spill slick over her palms and fingers. Your hair grows wet with it.
You are the first sorcerer in one hundred years to receive both Foresight and Hindsight. Your visions will be unparalleled. A complete picture of the past, present, and future.
Limitless in your knowledge.
A conduit of Fate, of Time.
At once, you see the shimmery lines of cursed energy and you know it is your mother’s form. She manifests in your vision.
You see it all.
Her life, the mistakes, the hardships, the joy. You watch your form grow up with your mother’s.
You see her death. The bloody tilt of her head.
Anguish rips through you.
You inhale like you’re resurfacing, only to let out a horrified scream.
Your mother tries to cradle you, to hold you and soothe you. Your scream alerts your father. Your aunt. Your clan.
The whole world, maybe.
You tear at your right eye so harshly, so viciously, so desperately that you give yourself three scars ripping down the plain of your face. But when you are finally able to open it again, streaked with blood, gold has blossomed in the center of your iris.
Your father falls to his knees in shock, in thanks. How lucky he is, to have such a blessed child, to have such a gift—
Your mother lurches you away from all of them, cradles you to her chest like you are an infant.
And she apologizes to you, over and over and over again.
***
Your mother fought hard for you. You know it. She cursed and spat and yelled at your father and her sister and brother and their father. Your house was not quiet for weeks on end.
But in the end, your mother lost, as mother’s often do with daughters.
As daughter’s often do.
You are to meet with the Gojo clan, to meet the boy who you will eventually marry. There will be some sort of ceremony to seal the promise of your marriage, a binding vow carved between you and a boy you’ve never met, who apparently has shaken all the heavens and earth with his existence.
You imagine someone imposing, the monster in your dreams with glowing eyes.
You imagine someone cold and powerful and everlasting.
You don’t imagine just a boy, a little older than you, with star blue eyes and a shock of white hair that is neatly combed down. His face is otherwise blank. He looks too perfect, standing beside his mother, who is tall and inhumanly beautiful. Her eyes are startling as well–a blue so fierce and deep that you don’t dare look long or hard into her face. She reminds you of the monster in your dreams, something sharp and so cold it burns.
You cling harder to your mother’s hand, warm and soft and comforting in yours.
You are swathed in white, revealed to the Gojo’s like a little jewel to be unearthed.
You are not wearing your long gloves today. Your father forbade it.
You don’t yet have control of your technique so anything–anyone–you touch immediately sends you spiraling into the past, then sharply into the future. A whole picture. The history and the fate of anything you can touch.
You have already seen your mother’s future. You mourn her in the moment, when you still have her, because to you, in ways, she is already dead.
You cling desperately to her, your only landline.
She never asked what you saw of her. You never told her.
But until you gain control of your technique, you wear gloves, lest you touch your father, your aunt, all the people you love and see their life flash before your childish eyes. Your clan has agreed for now that this is acceptable; the weight of time will crush a child. It will drive you mad. And they need you to have your wits; for them, for their protection.
However, today, your father pulled the gloves from your small hands carefully–made sure he hadn’t truly touched you– and then asked you to take Satoru Gojo’s hands and return to tell him everything you had seen in his future.
Unknown to you, Satoru’s mother has instructed him to keep Limitless up at all times near you.
His mother and your father would get along, you think, with all their demands of their children. Adults with agendas, using their children as tools, using their gifts as leverage, their existence as bargaining chips.
Satoru’s mother looks at you like you’re a curse; a squirming, grotesque creature here to get your warped hands on her son.
But your mother eyes Satoru carefully, too, the boy that will become the man that you will be forever tethered to. She had not wished for you to have the same life she did. She hopes Satoru will be a better man than your father. She hopes he will be good and kind, at least to you, at least to his wife. She prays silently, begs a higher power, begs the boy in front of her with her eyes for him to be good.
You are hardly introduced to each other before his father says, “Satoru, why don’t you show her the gardens?”
And in some part of your young mind, you know they want to talk as adults. Without you. About you.
Unearthly blue eyes slash to you. You feel your little heart rabbit in your chest. You squeeze tighter to your mother’s hand.
Satoru seems unsure for a moment, lifts his hand like he might extend it to you. The room holds their breath. But then he lets it fall limply to his side.
His mother bends down beside him a moment, “remember what I told you.”
Her voice is not kind. It is hushed, but not enough to keep it a secret from the whole room. Pointedly, she eyes you (they have the same eyes, they have the same mouth and the same starlight hair). You shrink away from her gaze. Your mother tenses.
Satoru nods simply.
And then he tells you, voice smaller than you had thought it would be, “the gardens are this way.” He turns on his heel, away from his mother, turning his back on the clans, on the whole group.
The image clings to you. A boy alone, with his back turned.
You don’t know why, but you follow–without your mother’s prompting for once, without her encouragement or approval. You hurry a little, picking up your skirts to catch up to his side.
So you can walk beside him, with your backs turned, with their eyes on you both.
He is quiet while you walk through winding halls. You are quiet, too. What are you supposed to say to a boy who will be your husband? You want to yell maybe, or cry. You want to tell him no–you want to run away.
The gardens yawn open before your eyes, greeting you with lush colors and gentle sound; water that runs, birds that chirp, the rustle of wind slipping through the leaves. Arching, bright colored trees and budding ruby flowers. Blue leaves and speckled butterflies that flit to and fro.
He sits on a pair of stone steps, beneath the patterned shade of a tree. You sit beside him, careful, uncertain.
Out of earshot, away from the world, in a garden that only you two belong to for a moment, he finally says, “my mother told me to not let you touch me.”
Perhaps naively, you say, “my father told me to touch you.”
“Why?”
“It’s how my technique works. If I touch anything, I will see its past, present, and future.” You explain mechanically, the way adults have explained it to you, opening up your little palms to gaze at them. “I usually wear gloves, so I don’t touch anyone. I don’t want to see their future.”
“Can’t you control it?” He asks, tilting his head. You can’t tell if he’s making fun of you.
“No.” And then, because you feel self-conscious or a little insulted, you tack on, “not yet.”
He turns his head towards you and if he is scrutinizing you, you can’t tell. His mouth twists a little, though, a flickering of a smile you think might light up the room if he lets it overtake his face.
He’s not very imposing at all, you realize.
“You can’t touch anyone?” He asks.
“Not without gloves–except for my mother.”
He must understand the implication. He is quiet for a moment. A bird darts from a tree. A gust of wind brushes past the two of you.
And then he holds up his hand to you.
Instinctively, you wince away from him. “I won’t touch you. I don’t want to touch you.”
“No, I–” he starts, and then, “you can try. My technique won’t let you touch me. Put your hand up to mine.”
When you look at him in horror, he can’t help but laugh a little, the sound burrowing deep inside of you. It frees you both, maybe. “I promise,” he says softly, and all the world is in his voice, in that tiny, little promise, “you won’t touch me. You won’t see anything–not if you never want to.”
Tentatively, terrified, you hold your hand up to his.
You brace for pain. You squeeze your eyes shut in fear, like you might block out the past, the future. You will never be able to.
But he says, “look,” and so you do. You crack a silver-laced eye open. And then gold blossomed.
And your hands, despite seeming to nearly touch, never actually make contact. A barrier rests between you. You can feel it, the energy of it, pressed into your palm. So close and yet–
“There’s infinity between us.” He explains and his fingers fold carefully between yours. Still, no visions come. Still, you don’t touch him. It feels like you might be, though.
“Can you touch anyone?” You ask in awe.
He laughs again, more carefree. “Yes, I can, if I want to.”
You flex your fingers, push against the barrier a little to test it. You never touch him. Will you ever touch him, you wonder? Will he remain untouchable forever to you?
You let your hand slip away from his.
Bluntly, a little surprisingly, he says, “it’s weird to think we’ll be married one day.”
“Yeah,” you agree, feeling something tighten and then sharply unravel inside of your chest. A sucked in breath, held, and then let go. A heart’s nervous hope, maybe. “My mom is upset about it.”
“So is mine, I think.” He responds, sighing lightly. And then, “are you?”
You grow shy, even if you can’t see his eyes on you. You know it’s hurtful to say yes, you know it wouldn’t be polite. You would get scolded.
But he says, “you don’t have to lie to me.”
He must see it, sense it in you.
“Yes–I don’t know you. I don’t like boys. And it makes my mother cry. I hate, hate seeing her upset.” You look away from him sharply, feeling the heat in your face, the childish rush of frustration, of tears, bellow up from inside of you.
You cried the whole morning in your mother’s arms. You didn’t want to go. You didn’t want to meet him. You didn’t want to touch him.
You can feel him peering at you and the tremble of your little heart is greater than you can name at this age, you feel greater than your age already. Forever old. Forever young. Somewhere caught in Time’s tricky fingers.
“Are you?” You manage to get out, “upset?”
He nods. “I think it’s dumb,” he says, “and such an old idea. My father says the clans have always been stuck in the past.”
He sounds like he’s repeating the words of an adult. He sounds old, in a too-young body, too.
“Maybe we can stop it, when we’re grown-up, too.” You offer.
Satoru makes a face, nose wrinkling up, lips twisting downward. “A binding vow is going to be made between us today–it’s really bad to break those. Even when we’re grown-ups, it would be bad.” He looks out at the garden now, away from you, “my mother specifically didn’t want this, because once it’s made, we’ll always have it.”
“Always?”
Satoru nods, “until the vow is complete, at least.”
“Until we’re married,” you say. And then, “we could get divorced, maybe.”
Satoru’s face goes perfectly blank, the only indication of his distaste is a small, downward tilt of his lips. “Maybe.”
Silence stretches itself between you two, long and slow, the garden filling it, bubbling and rustling with everything that could be said, that won’t be said.
“We could make it our own,” Satoru says suddenly and his eyes brighten, flash in the sun like a bluejay’s wing.
You look at him and you’re young, maybe too young to understand any of this at all, but you nod readily.
“How do we make it our own?” You ask.
Eagerly, he says, “Repeat after me.”
And childishly, you instantly respond with, “repeat after me.”
A smile breaks out over his face, beautiful and raw, “hey!” he tries to admonish.
“Hey!” you say back.
And he laughs, full and bursting, so sweet that it tumbles uninhibited from his mouth. And just as he told you, you repeat the sound with your own bubble of giggles.
(You look back at this memory and ache, a twist in your chest that might be your heart all knotted up. Or might just be the bitterness, after all.)
He takes a deep breath to steady himself.
“I will always have you.” He decides to say and you’ll wonder about it forever. What possessed such a young boy to say such a thing? Was he already so lonely? So desperate?
Is the start of your curse? Did he curse you? Or did you curse him? maybe it is your fault when you repeat slowly;
“I will always have you.”
“You will always have me.” He presses.
You inhale a little sharp and quick, but repeat it, as easy as breathing, as natural as the sun in the sky or the rocks on the ground;
(Later, when the binding vow is made between the two of you, Satoru derails from the clan’s perfectly laid script to form his own.
And he says it again.
And you repeat it again.
And his mother hisses at him and your mother gasps, your father curses colorfully.
But you finish the vow and it’s just the pair of you, you think, in a new world. It’s just the pair of you, you think, who could ever understand this.
It’s just your small voice, repeating his, sinking a vow into the ocean between you to never be found again by anyone else’s hands or eyes or thoughts.
It’s just your small voice and his and the creation of a new religion,)
“You will always have me.”
***
As children, you and Satoru are allowed to see each other every few weeks, which dwindles to every few days, before suddenly you see him nearly all the time.
At first, things were rocky. Despite the initial vow, Satoru is strange and tormenting. He pulls at your clothes and you scream at him. He takes your toys and you want to bite him. He makes you cry and cry and cry.
He keeps up his infinity for you, so that you can get close but never touching.
And he’s yours. All yours. And no matter how angry you get or how upset he gets, you always end up back together. You always know, you will always come back together.
Your mother looks after him. Your father despises him, each day presses and asks you to look into his future, each day your mother begs him to stop.
Satoru’s mother despises you, but she still looks after you, like a hawk, a little too closely when you’re around her son. You think you hardly see his father.
But you grow up running through gardens and past curses, following after Satoru, coming up against his side. Being chased by him, too, until you're laughing and out of breath. All yours. All his.
Godlings, you run together, and the world grows, and so do you.
***
By twelve, you have mastered your technique enough to lose your gloves. To touch and not be ripped into the past, into the future. You control when you want to peer into both, and learn that you don’t have to be sucked into the riptide of time, but rather wade into it as an observer.
Your training is specific to your clan, woven in its own history.
There is an amulet passed down in your family, one that has gone unworn for nearly one hundred years before you.
But now it dangles in front of you, shimmering silver, cut through with arcs of gold. The sun and the moon. Past and present. Your eyes reflected back to you in a stone.
“This,” your father begins, “holds all you need to know. No one else can peer into it, except those with Hindsight. With it, the previous users will teach about time. They will teach you what it means to be a keeper of time, how to use it to benefit you, to not let it drive you mad. Once you touch the amulet, it will show you its memories, the memories of previous users’ who always wore it.”
You eye the amulet. You have a question on the tip of your tongue but you know instantly your father won’t understand. He won’t be able to answer it.
Regardless, your father says, sharper, to make sure you’re listening, “and now you’ll always wear it. Do you understand? Everything you learn about time, about these techniques, will be passed on to the next, too.”
You nod, even if you don’t want to agree.
Your father smiles proudly, “good. Turn around.”
You turn around. He wraps the necklace around you, allowing the amulet to lay flat against the hollow of your throat, feeling it hum along your skin.
“Peer into its past.” He instructs.
You lift your hand up to grasp hold of it. The past is just a blink away but the future…
It sings to you.
You glance at your father, just a flick of your eyes that he regards with impatience. “Do I need to tell you again?”
“No, father.” You reply, but you’ve made up your mind.
Your vision spins sharply, pressure mounting in the corner of your eyes. Nausea rolls in a sickly circle inside of you. Time takes hold of your throat, wrestles you still, steals the noise of pain you were about to let out so it comes out as a mangled squawk.
Someone appears before you; before the amulet. They hold it up to them. It’s as if they’re holding you up, like your eyes are in the amulet.
“Finally,” they say, “I’ve found you.”
You are peering into the future at someone who is peering into the past at you. You feel their eyes. They must feel yours.
A shudder runs through you.
“Who are you?”
A ghost of a smile from a foggy face. It’s disorientating, trying to sharpen your vision. Dream-like, when you can’t quite grasp what you’re seeing, when you can’t run or speak or scream properly.
“You don’t recognize me?”
Their voice echoes in all the distant parts of your mind, buzzes strangely, what you think divinity might sound like if it had a voice.
“I can’t–I can’t see you clearly yet.” You respond slowly, pushing the words out like molasses to drip down your jaw, sticky in your mouth.
“Hm,” they hum, “still learning, I suppose. I remember.”
“T-teach me,” you get out. “You’re supposed to teach me.”
Another smile, you can feel it, this one wider, fuller. Teeth flash. Eyes spark like lightning. A shiver rips through you.
“I will teach you,” they say slowly, “I will certainly teach you. Not what you’re expecting to learn, not what you will ever be prepared to have, but I will do so anyways.”
You begin to tremble. “Why? W-what will you teach me?”
I don’t want to learn, you think suddenly and so unbridled it terrifies you, I don’t want to know, you feel it deep in your bones. You’re certain your life would be simpler if you never know. You feel an axis shift in this conversation, you can feel time changing, you can feel your whole world transforming before your very eyes.
The change of your heart is as great as the change of seasons.
And the form leans down, closer, as their voice drops to a murmur, all honey and thorns, the promise of something far greater than you. A storm to come. The future that you will bear upon the slant of your shoulders. And when they speak, you know they’ve cursed you;
“I will teach you how to make a God.”
***
Masterlist | Chapter One: Swallow ->
#gojo satoru x reader#satoru gojo x reader#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x you#satoru gojo x you#gojo x you#gojo satoru x y/n#satoru gojo x y/n#gojo x y/n#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#cielo’s writing#cielo writes#godmaker
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@chromotps
They're crowded close on too narrow stairs, knees knocking together to a jovial tune. Off beat because neither of them have ever had rhythm and made worse because Luffy is tipsy. So fuzzy and loose limbed that Luffy sways precariously to and fro as he sings, kept in place only because Ace keeps lifting his leg to bracket him - easily accommodating, always attentive, and not nearly as drunk as he should be for how much they've both thrown back.
Ace's cheeks are awash with color regardless, smile broad and laughter unrestrained.
To see his brother so happy - Luffy knocks their tankards together and cheers, so giddy he may as well be drunk on it. He grins when Ace's attention turns to him. The warmth in the dark of Ace's eyes makes Luffy's ears burn, makes him titter. Ace mirrors him, knocking their drinks together again before calling out to their crew - laughter bright as they call back to them.
They all celebrate and Luffy watches on. Beaming at raucous shouts and spirited cheers; the way Ace humors tomfoolery and spurs shenanigans. Lighthearted and mischievous. The easy way Ace banters, the playful way he teases, and the quiet, unwitting way he endears himself to everyone.
Liquor makes Luffy lethargic, head tipping back to rest against the railing behind him. Eyelids heavy as he contents himself with listening to his rowdy crew. Lulled into a daze by the press of Ace and his knees and Ace's hand laid over Luffy's thigh, fingers tapping along to Brook's music.
There's fire that tangles between Ace's fingers, fireflies that dance from his hands. They chase after their crew, teasing them with gentle heat before they extinguish. And when the small flames catch in their drinks, they're set ablaze - a show that has everyone raising their tankards again in delight; merriment.
One nearly lands on Luffy's nose, kissing it red.
The smile that pulls at his lips must be especially dopey because Ace pinches the brim of his hat and pulls Luffy forward, bumping their foreheads together - nuzzling their noses.
"Have you had too much?" Ace asks.
"Nah," Luffy drawls, only he thinks Ace and he might be talking about different things.
Ace doesn't look convinced, but seems humored all the same. Indulgent, even. When he leans back, Luffy chases after him. Stopping short because the world spins and - oh. Ace's leg is there to steady him again and Luffy laughs at himself as he leans back against the railing for support.
He's got his leg strewn over Ace's thigh, his sandal dangling from his toes. It slips from his foot as he swings it, but Luffy doesn't care. Too lost in the way Ace continues laughing with everyone, hand slapping down over Luffy's knees once, twice before squeezing.
Luffy extends his leg, pinching Ace's shawl between his toes and tugging. And Ace accommodates him, running his hand from above Luffy's knee to press his fingers into the muscle of Luffy's calf. Sweeping his thumb over Luffy's ankle, along the arch of his foot. It tickles, but Ace holds fast to him even when Luffy jerks back. Lips quirking into a smile because even if he's not looking at Luffy - he hears his laughter.
For a while longer, Luffy is content to watch. Teeming with pride because Ace is so good with their crew; because their crew is good with Ace, in turn. Luffy likes how they challenge him. Likes the way their care flusters him, the way their affection ties his tongue.
Luffy might always want Ace to have more of things like that. Might always want Ace to be more, too - more adored and loved; happy.
What feelings of content he has lasts until the exact moment Luffy wants to give Ace attention, himself.
Luffy plants his foot to Ace's chest and beams when Ace's gaze slides over to him. Curious and then endeared because Luffy is flushed from drink, loose limbed and silly. When Ace turns his head to face Luffy fully, it feels like a victory - like Luffy is triumphant, invincible.
Firelight catches across Ace's skin and reflects in his eyes. It warms him and Luffy feels flush from it. Still, he catches Ace's gaze, eager and with an impish smile. Toes curling against Ace's skin and the ink scarred over his heart.
Luffy's attention drops to it, gaze softening before he looks back at Ace. Something in Ace's expression might shift, too. Mirroring Luffy's softness, that smoldering affection.
When Luffy, unprovoked, tries to pinch Ace with his toes, Ace retaliates by grabbing Luffy's foot and dragging him forward across an already narrow step. It makes Luffy cackle as he slouches down, nearly teetering off the stairs until Ace catches him.
Laid over Ace's leg like that, Luffy smiles at him. Toes curling when Ace lifts his foot and turns his head into Luffy's ankle - teasing him with the brush of his lips as Ace smirks at him, warm and wild and wonderful.
Sometimes Luffy wonders if the novelty of it will ever go away. To have Ace aboard his ship, for his brother to have joined Luffy’s crew; to have him in this way, to have him at all - it’s a dream come true.
=====
Based on chromo's art!
#chromotps#acelu#based on chromo's art and post-ts!au //w///#and also giftfic because all the works you do are so wonderful and inspiring <3#portgas d ace#monkey d luffy#words
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Chaotic Writing Prompts - 19. "Why am I in your phone as 'himbo number two'?" - Perc'ahlia?
“Ah, fuck,” Percy huffs. Vex glances away from the road - the rain, really, it’s coming down in sheets and she can’t see shit - long enough to see his phone remain a dark mirror despite another swipe of his thumb.
Her gaze flits back as Percy looks up at her. “I told you,” she sing-songs, “to charge it before I picked you up.”
“I did,” Percy acknowledges. “The connector has been finicky, though - I suppose it shifted out of the exact arrangement it required to get a charge going.”
She assumes his shuffling is to stuff the dead device back in a pocket. He has so many in that coat - Vex envies it dearly. Pockets for days, pockets with Percy’s hands in them. Wants the coat, wants to be the coat.
(Nope, dangerous, back the fuck out of there.)
“I suppose I can forgive you for not checking,” she teases, light, a breeze to dispel those too real, too heavy thoughts. (It just rustles them.) “Guess we’ll surprise Cassandra, then?”
“No - no, that won’t do. Cassandra doesn’t do well with surprises. I doubt she’ll come out if she spies an unfamiliar vehicle.”
“Won’t she recognize you?”
Percy hums. Which could mean any number of things - in this case, maybe not and that hurts to consider.
Vex bets she could hear Percy think if not for the rain drumming against the roof of the car, the whimper of the windshield wipers fighting the onslaught clouding the road.
It’s a bit of a mess, all of… this.
The long and short of it is that Percy - a photographer who offered a pretty penny to be lead to some of nature’s little moments, a friend of a friend, but actually a good friend now, and one hell of a hot piece of bad news - needed a lift. At five in the morning.
He had not explained why, in the phone call.
He did when he vaulted into Vex’s car at five twenty-six: his sister was alive, and a day past eighteen, and away from the villains that had kept her hidden under their thumb, and she needed a ride, and his pickup affectionately called The List after some teens carved their names into its haunches had refused to start, and she was usually up early, and he knew she had Tuesdays off, and he’s so terribly sorry but he thought of her first and couldn’t waste any time - and only then stopped to breath.
Why Vex and her old dark Jeep, Death from Above, came to mind first, well. She has a hunch, but she’s learned not to indulge optimism. Best not give it a grain of salt lest it turn the glass half full to seawater.
Despite the weight of the circumstances, or maybe because of it, Percy is downright cheery. His mood is infectious, even as the downpour makes the car groan and the sky ahead just barely pales with the promise of dawn.
“Your phone,” Percy says at last. “Could I use it?”
Vex has to fight off a grin.
“Of course,” she says. “You’re welcome to give her a call.”
There’s another pause, but not the sort where Percy’s thinking - the sort where he’s had his thought and is just deciding how to spell it out.
“Ah, could you hand it over?”
So, so wonderful that Vex is well practiced at schooling her expressions.
“Driving’s absolutely awful, dear,” she says. “I don’t trust this old witch to behave - would you grab it? Just in jacket pocket.”
She’s fairly sure Percy says something like ‘really?’. “Really?” he repeats. “Are you - Vex.”
The eyeroll is a gentle one. “Don’t make it weird, darling.”
He doesn’t make it weird.
She does, because she notices how hard he tries to make it casual. The hesitation before he leans in, how light is touch is on the leather, how he watches her face so carefully when not glancing at where his hand is. How there’s a stumble, leaning in before he catches himself and rocks back into his seat, prize held aloft.
“See?” Vex says. Cool. “No big deal.”
“Thank you, dear,” Percy offers before diverting his attention to the unfamiliar phone. Her lock screen - Trinket, of course, actually a photo Percy had taken of him on a whim - is reflected in his eyes. The car is the storm’s heartbeat, thrumming as he maneuvers his way through apps to make the call.
There’s a pause, before he inputs the new number. And then his thumb draws over the contacts.
And then his scrolling stops.
Here we go.
"Why am I in your phone as 'himbo number two'?"
“So I’d catch you snooping, darling,” Vex replies without affording him a glance. Mostly by necessity - this turn is a bitch to navigate in the rain, half-blind to incoming trucks who always drag over the double yellow line.
She’d really rather look and see his face, because fuck she’d been waiting for this.
Percy’s indignant whine isn’t a rare thing, per say, but she imagines stealing it all the same. Tucking it into her purse. Or maybe her jewelry box. Sparse as it is, she’d have room.
Curse the road, curse the rain, curse the hypothetical life-ending trucks. Curse her, for how her face smiles without input, how warm she feels despite the cold onslaught of the air.
“I’m fairly certain I know -” Percy cuts himself off. “I don’t -” again.
“Why?” he tries. Free of the damn curve she can look: his eyes are so lost and offended, glasses just barely fogged up in the car, his shoulders pulled back to drag some dignity out of the situation, and he’s fucking pouting.
Vex cracks, cackling.
“It was actually Vax’s idea,” she admits, “because he thought you would make such an interesting face at being called a himbo. Let alone coming in second.”
“I’m too smart to qualify,” Percy grumbles, with no humility, and Vex’s shoulders shake with her giggles. “At least do me the courtesy of - I don’t know -”
“I had you as ‘life needs things to live’ before,” Vex adds, impish.
She can feel his scowl from here - radiant in its delight, a purely dramatic thing. “Well. Well! I suppose I should do away with Lady Vex’ahlia, then. ‘Witch’ might be more fitting. Or ‘Vexxing’.”
Vex gasps. “You wouldn’t!” she snickers.
“Oh, you shouldn’t doubt me, dear. I’m fixing this,” he scolds as the ring hums through the cramped air, “as soon as I’m done - Hello, Cass? It’s Percival.”
The remains of Percy’s chuckle cling to his words to his sister. She asks him about it, once reassured they’re en-route and in a black Jeep, not a white pickup. He just hums in response.
#critical role#critical role fanfiction#cr fanart#perc'ahlia#percahlia#ask game#airplane saga#might be a little OOC but my brain is starting to get Weird and i just wanted to have fun#yeet
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Do you have any pronouns based on glass/fragility/mirrors?
shatter/shatter/shatters/shatters/shatterself
sha/tter/shatter/shatters/shatterself
break/break/breaks/breaks/breakself
bre/brea/break/breaks/breakself
clear/clear/clears/clears/clearself
cle/clea/clear/clears/clearself
limpid/limpid/limpids/limpids/limpidself
li/lim/limpi/limpids/limpidself
frail/frail/frails/frails/frailself
fra/frai/frail/frails/frailself
brittle/brittle/brittles/brittles/brittleself
bri/itle/brittle/brittles/brittleself
reflect/reflect/reflects/reflects/reflectself
re/refle/reflect/reflects/reflectself
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› Today's special menu item ! ›› Voireflemensio
( 🎡 ) Defination › A gender related to being part of the formless void around you, showing in reflections and traveling through a dimension of reflections. A gender within itself feeling like it's stuck in reflection dimension where it only shows on things that may reflect light(mirror, glass, rain etc..) or during something that reflects it or something completely else.
( 👾 ) Etymology › Void (Void › Voi) + reflection (reflection › refle) + Dimension(dimension › mensio)
(( .. Coined by [ The Seeker ] aka primuscapere ))
[ ID start ... Two rectangular flags one with a symbol of a tilted broken mirror and glass shards coming from it and one without it with 8 stripes; 1st top stripe is curved and reaches the 4th stripe's ends with sketched out cracks resembling cracked glass; 2nd, 3th, 4th are smallest to largest and 5th, 6th, 7th being evenly wide. The colors go top to bottom pale sky blue, darker pale sky blue, darker pale sky blue, steel blue, dark steel blue, darker steel blue, deep dark blue .. End ID ]
[ PT .. coined by [ the seeker ] aka primuscapere .. pt end ]
#liom#liom community#liom blog#liom label#liom safe#mogai#mogai community#mogai blog#mogai label#mogai safe#neogender#neogender flag#neogender coining#liom flag#liom coining#mogai flag#mogai coining#👾🎡 : coining
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“Samuel” Awsamdude AKA “Sam” the Green Warden of Pandora’s Box.
Android Magus16 XP76800
Lawful Neutral (With some evil tendencies) Medium Humanoid construct
HP134(16d8+48)
AC30(+4Dex+3Deviation+9Armor+4Natural)
BaB+12 BMC+12 DMC+26
FORT+18 REFL+15 WILL+15
Racial traits: Emotionless, Exceptional senses, Constructed, Repairing nanites, Alert.
Traits: Mathematical prodigy, Meticulous.
Class abilities: Arcane pool, Greater spell combat, Heavy armor, Fighter training, Spell strike, Knowledge pool, Spell recall, Counterstrike, Magus arcana (Close range, Quicken magic, Disruptive, Enduring blade, Hasted assault), Bonus feats(Brew potions, Create wondrous items).
Spellcasting CL16 DC16 Spells per day 5/7/7/6/5/4/2 Spells known:
VI-True seeing, Walk though space.
V-Wall of force, Wall of stone, Telekinesis, Cone of cold, Mask from divination, Baleful polymorph.
IV-Black tentacles, Dimension door, Fire shield, Invisibility greater, Martial telekinesis, Solid fog.
III-Blink, Dispel magic, Fly, Hydraulic torrent, Magic weapon greater, Ray of exhaustion.
II-Alacrity, Force anchor, Glitterdust, Mirror image, Web, Frigid touch.
I-Call weapon, Frostbite, Grease, Hobble, Hydraulic push, Shield, Magic missile, Mirror strike, Mudball, Mount, Secluded grimoire.
STR10 DEX18 CON16 INT22 WIS10 CHA8
Feats: Weapon finesse, Combat casting, Lunge, Spell penetration, Intensified spell, Still spell, Silent spell, Empower spell.
Skills: Acrobatics+23, Climb+17, Craft(Redstone)+25 (Potions)+22, Fly+11, Intimidate +6, Knowledge (Arcana) +25, (Dungeon)+17, (Engineering) +12, (Planes)+17, Perception+21, Profession (Jail warden)+7, Ride+11, Spellcraft+25, Swim+19, Use magic device +18.
Languages: Common, Draconic, Alko, Aquan, Ignan.
Equipment: Mithral full plate of speed, Ring of protection+3, Amulet of natural armor+4, Warden’s authority(Axiomatic spell storing scimitar+3), Warden crossbow(Seeking Light crossbow+2), 50+1 Axiomatic bolts, Daredevil boots, Ring of arcane mastery, Cloak of resistance+5, Headband of vast intelligence+4(Craft redstone), Belt of physical might+2 (CON, DEX), Gloves of spell strike, Blessed book, Bag of holding I, 4 Beads of force, 1 Clamor box, 1 Chime of opening, Iron bands of binding, Potions: Cure critical wounds(4), Wands Open/Close (40 charges), Alarm (40 charges), Scrolls: Guards and wards (3), Permanency (3), 8800gp of spell scrolls of magus spells, Magus kit, MWK Filter mask.
Background: Awsamdude is one of the original founders of the land and a genius when it comes to redstone and buildings. Being part creeper apparently he possess various bodies across the world where he can transfer his consciousness to be (almost) in many places at the same time, one of these was repurposed as Sam Nook to assist Tommyinit in the build of his hotel. He helped to fight Schlatt during the Manberg war and sided with Tommy during the Manberg vs Pogtopia war. After building many farms, he started to take on his magnum opus is the (in)famous prison Pandora’s Vault commissioned by Dream. The new Vault keeper role created a new persona inside him called the Warden. As the Warden, he is very strict with rules and will do anything to make sure that the prisoners stay where they are meant to be and lawbreakers to be punished accordingly or worst (as he did with Ponk’s arm). When Dream was arrested after the disc war and locked him inside his own creation, Sam felt a strange sense of accomplishment but also felt a large burden on his shoulders. This proved very real when Dream killed Tommy in his cell while a lockdown was activated. After Tommy’s revival and release, the news reached Quackity and he decided to torture Dream to obatin informations about the revival book. Some time later, Technoblade was also imprisoned but managed to escape to his extreme shock. Sam immediately captured Ranboo and Michael to use them as bargain chips. Later, Technoblade spearhead the building and released all the prisoners: Dream, Ranboo and Connoreatpants. When the alarm sounded Sam informed Quackity and called Sapnap and Badboyhalo to help with the defenses to no avail. As the Vault fell so did the mind of the Warden as he rushed to threaten Ranboo to kill Micheal if he did not remove his armor; Then he threatened Dream that he would kill Ranboo if he did not surrender and return into the jail. The Green man escaped on a horse and Sam killed Ranboo. A furious Techno started to rampage across the area and the mob of people that were summoned to help in stopping him and wounded Sam many times before retreating. Destroyed, and feeling a failure on maintaining his only duty he locked the prison to be only locked back in by Techno, Eret and Tubbo as revenge. Then, if that wasn’t enough, Dream entered the jail and tortured him until he became totally submitted to him and he told him all the secrets of the jail followed by his first canon death. One day while he was thinking about his past mistakes, Sam could only grind his teeth in anger and despair… He was hated by many, his special role was broken and his magnum opus was in the hand of maniac… Then he started to hear voices: “So you wish to restore your previous role and become master of that jail of yours? Maybe also become a master of your own destiny? I can do it. All you have to do is…” he spoke words that were like liquid gold and the sweetest of nectar for him. Sam was at the bottom, he had nothing to lose, so he accepted. “Good, let me give you a proper start.” The world shifted, and his body as well. Then he found himself in a chamber with many semitransparent tanks and in each… himself. “Clones? My clones?” Sam wandered the vast labyrinthine structure made of stone, hard metal, claustrophobic corridors, shackles, powerful locks and many doors… he felt like at home. “A building fit for you... It can become yours if you wish so...” Sam reached a dark enormous door with all manners of locks and the tiniest of gap as window. “I am here. You can fill this place with all those you deem fit. The more you lock in, the more i become free… And when i do… I can grant your wish. ANY WISH.” Sam looked around, intoxicated with the power of the place he was in: “Let’s get started, shall we?”
Link for the image: hhttps://twitter.com/araostar/status/1355352409623547917
#minecraft#dream smp#awsamdude#awsamdude fanart#pathfinder#Pathfinder Roleplaying Game#roleplay game
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D --> Trying to destroy the world around you won’t make those cracked mirrors cast better refle%ions you know
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Fund: Rising Star: Aaron Lener
During our annual Fund Drive, we like to feature undergraduate and early-career graduate students who have gone above and beyond the classroom to participate in the wider field of linguistics. Selected nominees exemplify a commitment to not only academic performance, but also to the field of linguistics and principles of scientific inquiry.
Since this year’s Fund Drive theme is Mirrors and Reflections, we are especially excited to recognize those Rising Stars whose bright light is sure to refle http://dlvr.it/T5Hvw7
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Exploring the Name Labyrinth: A Bit by bit Manual for Changing Your Name After Marriage
Congrats on sealing the deal! Presently comes the invigorating (and some of the time overwhelming) errand of refreshing your name across different foundations and archives. Don't worry, newlyweds! Changing your name after marriage doesn't need to be a migraine. Here is a far reaching manual for explore the cycle without a hitch:
Accumulate Your Reports:
Marriage testament: This fills in as your authority verification of marriage and is fundamental for most name change applications.
Photo ID: Legitimate visa, driver's permit, or state-gave ID.
Verification of citizenship: Birth endorsement or naturalization authentication.
Federal retirement aide card: You'll require this for refreshing your Government managed retirement records.
Step 1: Update Your Government managed retirement Card:
Visit your neighborhood Federal retirement aide office with your marriage authentication, confirmation of citizenship, and ID.
Finish up an application for another Federal retirement aide card (Structure SS-5).
Give your new name and some other important data.
The interaction can require half a month, so plan in like manner.
Step 2: Update Your State ID or Driver's License:
Visit your nearby Division of Engine Vehicles (DMV) office with your new Government managed retirement card, marriage testament, and momentum driver's permit/state ID.
Finish up a driver's permit/state ID application structure.
Pay the expected expenses and take another photograph (if essential).
You'll get a brief permit/ID while the upgraded one is handled.
Step 3: Update Your Identification (Discretionary):
Complete a DS-82 visa application structure.
Present your ongoing identification, marriage declaration, new Federal retirement aide card, and visa photograph meeting the most recent rules.
Pay the appropriate charges.
Permit half a month for handling and conveyance of your new identification.
Step 4: Update Different Records and Archives:
Monetary organizations: Banks, charge card organizations, venture companies.
Employer: Update your name in your worker records for finance and duty purposes.
Utilities: Gas, water, and electricity companies.
Insurance agency: Auto, home, and health insurance
Proficient licenses and participations.
Casting a ballot enlistment.
Name change after marriage
Name change after marriage is an interesting individual choice. While there is no legitimate commitment to do as such, many individuals decide to take their life partner's last name, join their last names, or make another last name altogether. Anything that your inclination, the most common way of changing your name after marriage includes refreshing different archives and records to mirror your new name. This can incorporate your government managed retirement card, driver's permit, identification, monetary records, and expert licenses.
Passport change of name after marriage
After the delight and energy of your wedding settles, refreshing your passport with your wedded name could enter your thoughts. A passport change of name after marriage ensures smooth travel, despite not being immediately required. A completed DS-82 form, your most recent passport, and your marriage certificate are all necessary for changing your name. Since processing times vary, it's best to plan ahead to avoid travel delays. Keep in mind, conveying your marriage declaration while voyaging goes about as optional confirmation of your name change until your new identification shows up.
Changing last name after marriage
Saying "I do" doesn't consequently change your last name. After marriage, many couples choose to share a surname, but changing last name after marriage requires deliberate action. To officially embrace your companion's name, you should revise your driver's permit, passport, and Social Security card. Refreshing your monetary records, boss, and other pertinent organizations additionally guarantees your new name is reflected all over the place. Keep in mind, this cycle takes time and arranging, so be patient and keep duplicates of all your documentation.
Change of name in PAN card after marriage
Refreshing your PAN card with your wedded name is fundamental for keeping up with monetary straightforwardness and staying away from expected entanglements. Fortunately, change of name in PAN card after marriage is a direct cycle. Hitched ladies can outfit their marriage certificate, marriage invitation card, or a passport showing their life partner's name as verification for name change. Visit the TIN-NSDL or UTIITSL site, fill the web-based application structure with right subtleties, pay the appropriate charge, and present your archives. Following half a month, you'll accept your refreshed PAN card mirroring your new name, guaranteeing smooth monetary exchanges under your wedded character.
Changing family name after marriage
Changing family name after marriage is an individual choice many couples embrace. Sharing a surname is a sign of unity and strengthens the bond between spouses, even though it is not required by law. Be that as it may, exploring the authority name change process requires cautious preparation and meticulousness. The steps involved, from updating your driver's license and Social Security card to notifying financial institutions and professional organizations, may initially appear daunting. By the by, with legitimate preparation and association, changing your last name after marriage can be a smooth and remunerating experience, setting your new part as a wedded couple.
Extra Tips:
Make a rundown of all establishments and records you want to refresh.
Tell your contacts of your new name.
Consider distributing a name change declaration in your nearby paper.
Save duplicates of all your desk work for future reference.
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Pre-order this beauty NOW, if you dare.
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🌊 CUPS (water)
EMOTION: is about overflowing emotions, unconscious, creativity.
King of Cups: Master of Emotions
Wise diplomatic and very balanced between head and heart, has great ability to control and master emotions. Not empty of them but the King understands where they are beneficial and where they are harmful.
Queen of Cups:
Healer intuitive empathetic and perceptive, dreamy mythical and almost psychic at times, acts as a mirror and reflects the depths present in others. she seems strong and honest. her cup is closed – thoughts and feelings come from her subconscious mind and the depths of her soul and she is focused on the inner.
downside: emotional exhaustion restricted in the expressing the way that you truly feel bottling up your emotions. You may have high levels of stress that you are not able to cope with anymore. The Queen of Cups reversed can also reflect that your mind is wandering too far, and you are letting your imagination run away with itself. While you still mean well, you should take a pause to really see whether your emotions can be trusted, because you are allowing them to control you. You need to take some time to think if these dreams can be turned into reality. You should try to be more emotionally stable during these times, so you will know when your emotions are getting the best of you.
Knight of Cups: The feminine knight
A knight that gives queer vibes. Carries an invitation/message, in touch with emotions, an attractive being calm Zen and balanced. Listens to heart even if its not the practical thing to do. A bit of unrealistic.
Ace of Cups: Drink from the cup
deep pure emotions, sensuality, open yourself to opportunities, connection, creativity. Also it's a new beginning, joy of getting and giving
3 of Cups: The Coven
turn to the community and friends for support, partying or celebration, dealing with the social situations, give and receive help
4 of Cups:
Apathy, you are focused on yourself, internally, so much that you miss the world. Your tuning inward makes you unaware of what is given to you. If you feel you have lost all interest in activities and your life seems to be going stale, you need to focus on things that will get you out of the emotional rut. You need to open up. She needs to stop fantasizing and drowning in bad feelings about herself.
The cat is deep in contemplation and meditation. She is so engrossed in her thoughts that he does not seem to notice the outstretched arm offering her a cup. A further three cups stand at her feet, but again, she doesn’t seem to notice or care about these new opportunities either.
5 of Cups: Disappointment
Build a bridge and get over it! You are pessimistic which is unrealistic, and so fixated about what went wrong and your failures and shame self pity that you cannot see the things that are still standing. You must shift your mind and focus on what can go right from this point onwards.
Gurl, you’re stuck in the past, let go. Old wounds flood your mind as you think about what happened. You may blame yourself or believe you’re a victim of life’s circumstances. These negative emotions are holding you back from your fullest potential – release them so you can move on and create positive change.
Forgiveness is vital both of yourself and others. If someone has disappointed you, forgive that person, releasing yourself from the disappointment. And if you are frustrated with yourself, know that you did the best you could under the circumstances and have now learned from your mistakes. wisdom in the present moment comes from the mistakes of the past. Reflect on what led you to this point and understand what valuable lessons you can take from the experience. Even when things go pear-shaped, you can always take away something positive by a bad experience. new opportunities and possibilities are waiting for you – but only when you are ready.
7 of Cups: Wishful thinking
You are in clouds which symbolize illusions, fantasies and visions, like these you see in your dreams. Both excited and afraid of the things that you see in your unconscious and wishful thinking, be careful. Some of the seven cups, the choices and wishes we make, are gifts and some not at all, not everything is always as it seems. Cups are about the emotion so these choices may be emotional. Maybe stop fantasizing and face reality and your own self to make good choices.
This can be a sign of wishful thinking and projecting into the future about what you would like to create, rather than taking action here in the present to make it happen. For example, you may wish for a fitter, more healthy body, until it's time to get out there and exercise.
You may find that your ideas are not grounded in reality. Your plans might sound fabulous in your imagination, but when it comes to implementing them, you may realize they do not work in the real world.
The Seven of Cups may be a sign of ‘shiny object syndrome’, where you keep finding the ‘next big thing’ but fail to see any of those new opportunities through to the end. When you are constantly in the idea phase, you miss the chance to bring your designs into fruition.
it's time to make a decision and be realistic about what you can do and how far you can extend yourself, find that balance between order and disorder.
9 of Cups: The wish card
Finding of self satisfaction and wishes come true and achieving inner desires. The emotional journey of cups is coming to an end soon, you struggled to find joy you experienced different things and now your wishes will be granted. Seek and enjoy PLEASURE of all kinds. Be careful not to hurt someone that doesn't deserve it though, and accept the consequences, then enjoy. Also don't take for granted. Comfort luxury and emotional stability.
10 of Cups: Divine
Female energy and deep warmth in you. Unity harmony and sense of community, an ideal.
follow your heart and trust your intuition. Your feelings and emotions will guide you. When something feels fantastic, do more of it; and when something doesn’t feel right, do less of it. Allow your inner guidance to lead the way. Seek out opportunities that fulfil you and align with your personal values instead of following the path that others expect you to take. Stay open and accept everything.
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