#he is very special to me... my everything...

[mullermilkshake]

Fear

Part 28 <- Part 29 -> Part 30

Jinwoo's memories returned just in time to welcome two special people into the world.

Yandere!Jinwoo Sung x Pregnant!reader Tags - Depictions of Childbirth and labour, Depictions of blood, cutting, Delivering premature babies

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I have only watched the anime and haven't gotten round to reading the manhwa yet. Please refrain from spoilers.

TAG LIST RE-OPEN (The tag list is back up and open for a little while, if you'd like to be tagged, please let me know! 🤗)

TW - This will contain some very graphic details of childbirth which may be triggering for some, if you do not wish to read it, I will leave a short summary of this chapter at the bottom of this post, thank you all for reading this far and enjoy!!

Fear. It was fear in the end that put things back as they should be.

Seeing you in agony and standing helplessly on the side triggered something on a chemical level in Jinwoo’s brain that essentially turned the light back on in his head. It may have had help from the doctor man’s abilities, but Jinwoo didn’t accept that theory.

It was viciously sudden, like taking a sharp breath of fresh air for the first time after being confined to a stuffy room all day, then coughing up his lungs due to the icy cold. Or, the sensation was similar to jolting against the seatbelt when executing an emergency brake during a drivers exam. Heart racing to an unknown beat, chest pounding yet knowing that safety sat right on the road behind the wheel.

Like standing in a room and forgetting why he was in there until it suddenly came back to him.

Watching you in pain set a defibrillator to his heart and ignored the warning signs before yelling ‘clear’.

Hearing you shout at the woman not only opened the door once the window had closed on Jinwoo, it put everything into perspective. He almost lost the moments that meant everything to him, right down the gutter, washed away with a horrid storm and the front door to the apartment remained sealed shut despite how hard he banged on it.

Jinwoo realised how attached Beru had gotten and understood now why he was hovering around outside, Igris kept watch on the perimeter. They were both your protectors and now it all made sense.

The twins aura had vanished.

He had no time to investigate or tell you that he regained his memories when his eye twitching like that, how the doctor was still standing in the room being utterly useless. Jinwoo wouldn’t just let you lie in pain when this woman could stop it.

Jinwoo never experienced fear anymore until now, but he recognised it as muscle memory. A jittery feeling standing there helpless and hopeless, taking up oxygen instead of breathing evenly and waiting to see how things planned out.

Events couldn’t play out as normal if he hyperventilated.

“Doctor.” He approached her already, taking her arm discreetly and forcing her into the corner where you couldn’t see her or hear him.

He had enough of her bullshit. Jinwoo recognised that she was paramount in a safe delivery should things change or go wrong, but as far as her usefulness in this room, she had outlived it.

Jinwoo had to whisper in order to control himself. “If you don’t give her what she’s asking for and something goes wrong… I’ll murder you in your sleep, and you’ll never know when I might come. But I guarantee that I will… Do you want the fact you’re willingly causing her pain on your conscience, knowing you could have stopped it? You’ll be looking over your shoulder for a lifetime.” 

She whispered too out of natural mirroring. “You- you- I know that look… You got your memories back- when did you… That’s great- but you’re hurting me.” 

Jinwoo gave no fucks when it came to you, he’d break her arm if he wanted to just to prove a point. “Answer my question.” 

“N-No, I don’t want that. I’ll give her the medication- anything she wants.” 

He let her go, but kept his closeness. “Good. Off you go, and stay out of this room until you’re actually needed. Understand?” 

“Yes, Mr. Sung.” She retreated with her tail between her legs, had Jinwoo not been staying strong for you, he would have laughed.

“I’ll go get your pain meds, then just call if you need me- I’ll be with hunter Cha.”

Jinwoo waited for the sound of the doctor's footsteps to disappear before speaking to you. “She’s getting you anything you need, don’t leave anything out, alright?” He watched you with an eagerness that resembled what it might have been like if he’d been kept from you for days. “Hi, Baby.”

Your pet name. Your expression fell, like the pain melted away for just a moment. “Jinwoo- wait- do you-”

He wanted to run to you, to embrace you and praise you in front of everyone for being the strong person he knew you were. For the longest time, he wanted to have a form of control over you where you became entirely reliant on him, but seeing you like this, still going strong in the pain you were in, he knew he’d never have that.

And now, it didn't seem so important.

Jinwoo had changed drastically and his time away from you laid it all out in plain sight. He kissed your forehead, pressing his lips to your skin like you’d vanish in thin air if he didn’t, a physical mantra he repeated out of necessity. “I’m sorry I went away, I won’t ever leave again, I promise.”

“Wait- wait.” You almost gave him whiplash. “You took your time!”

So, you were back to your old self. That’s good. 

Jinwoo was overwhelmed with that same sense of familiarity he’d been ruminating on since he left that dungeon.

That fucking dungeon.

“Thanks for waiting for me, I missed you too.”

“I did miss you.”

Jinwoo held back any and all excitement he had to contain over hearing your confession of love. It filled him with warmth and bitterness simultaneously. 

He missed it- well, he didn’t miss it- but he did. The first time and Jinwoo missed it. It tore his heart apart and taped it back together continuously.

“And you love me too, huh?”

He played it cool, though it made his heart thump. Your wide eyes, deep breaths on the hospital bed, he’d missed it. You needing him. Him needing you.

Before you could speak, Jinwoo’s phone went off, an unknown number. He pocketed it, held your hands and made you comfortable.

“I’m here. Let’s welcome our babies together, yeah?”

You nodded enthusiastically, hissing and squeezing his hands as soon as a huge contraction came on. 

“Fuck-fuck-fuck!”  

Jinwoo wanted to take the pain away, absorb it all and take it for you- no, put it all on her instead.

The doctor came in with a tray, and a gas canister. “You can have an epidural, but I'd suggest gas and air first, see how you go. It should take the edge off. Breathe it in every contraction and it’ll help.”

She didn’t dignify Jinwoo with a look his way. Good. 

The nurse called your name sweetly. “I’m going to check how dilated you are now, okay? Can you put your legs- yep, like that… and I’ll just check…”

She moved her arm under the draped cloth, a similar scene when you and Jinwoo found that you were carrying twins. Made from the same material, the same dull and depressing shade of blue with weird little circles evenly spaced out. You sat in the same position in the stirrups. 

It was only like yesterday that it happened. Now within a few hours, the babies would be in your arms, you and Jinwoo would become a proper family.

“Okay, you’re almost eight centimetres dilated, things are going to get intense soon, maybe stick to the gas and air.” She waved over Jinwoo who hadn’t let go of your hand. “Dad, your job is coming up now, keep her calm and relaxed as much as possible.”

“Of course.” He said, stepping back to your side and stroking your hair in the process. 

At first, whispered sweet praises worked a treat. 

“I’m so proud of you.” 

“You’re doing so well, baby.” 

“You’ve got this, I know you can do it.” 

“That’s my girl.” 

Then, praise started to piss you off. You became nasty, erratic and emotional.

“I can’t believe you did this to me, you utter dickhead!” 

“You’re never touching me again, I swear to god I’ll bite your fucking hand off!” 

“The twins are punishing me- I just know it- it’s all your fault, Jinwoo!” 

“I don’t like you very much right now- stop touching me!” 

Jinwoo took nothing to heart, absolutely nothing and in time, you and he would be laughing it off and cuddling your little bundles of joy in no time. But it was starting to get a little hurtful. Especially when you let slip that you hated him after hearing Hae-in absolutely belt it from across the hall just before the news came that she’d given birth to a little boy.

The screeches and screams terrified you, Jinwoo understood that, yet when you yanked his shirt down to your level and growled something demonic between pulls on the canister, Jinwoo wasn’t exactly sure how to take you.

When you were ten centimetres dilated, things amped up, they sky rocketed. Jinwoo didn’t realise that until now you weren’t using your full strength to squeeze his hand. It wasn’t that it hurt, but each time you clenched his hand in such a way, it rolled his knuckles, and cringed his body like you were punishing him personally.

“You did this, you did this you fucking- ouch!” 

The midwife had taken her place by your feet, rolled the sheet up over your knees and looked ready to catch one of the twins with a net.

What if she’s right? What if the twins fall out? 

At least he was here to catch them, fully present and correct.

“Do you feel the need to push-“

“Yes, yes! I need to push, I really need to push!”

“Then push, love.” She said, voice soothing and calm. “Every time you get a contraction, you push with everything you have and stop when I tell you, alright?”

You didn’t respond, almost silent with each push, hand visibly shaking. Jinwoo stood helpless, the same flutter of fear being utterly powerless on something you had to ride out on your own.

It shone a light on you that Jinwoo never thought would turn on by yourself, not a flicker but a full beam full of warm UV rays and sunshine. In the beginning, Jinwoo really wanted to keep you, use your abilities for things he still hadn’t fully figured out yet, he wanted to have you all to himself and tuck you away forever.

Being the mother of his children, you were so strong and resilient through everything, Jinwoo only wanted you. 

He’d give up everything for you.

Kill for you, again.

Take the world for you.

Burn it down for you.

Reduce everything to dust just to see you smile. Because you loved him back. You wanted him too.

Jinwoo patted your forehead with a damp cloth, soothing you with soft delicate words whenever you wanted to give up, he would have let you breake both his hands if it took an ounce of pain away.

Each push, each stifled grunt and growl through the pain brought you closer to delivery. Jinwoo was anxious to move anywhere away from your head, he knew eventually he’d be cutting the cords of his children, but getting close between your legs during active labour just felt like something only a professional should do.

That, and he was sure you’d hit him if he moved an inch away as he learned earlier when he wanted to go to the bathroom after you told him to fuck off. You threw something at him and begged him to come back in tears and hold your hand.

“Baby’s head is out… One big push- that’s it. Push-push-push, one last push.”

A deep breath and mountainous determination, you pushed again, far quieter than Hae-in ever was.

Jinwoo’s moment he’d hold forever in his head and heart, was the proudest sensation filling up his chest with your sigh of relief and the sound of his baby crying for the first time.

He’d never get it out of his head and he never wanted to. So beautiful, so overwhelming, so perfect.

“Okay, we have a boy!” The midwife smiled briefly, holding him in her arms so Jinwoo could see.

He was beautiful.

“Baby, he’s perfect.” He peppered kisses on your forehead, squeezing your hand tight with encouragement.

“Is he- is he okay?" 

Jinwoo grinned from ear to ear. "He's great, he's so tiny. But he's so perfect."

"Come and cut the cord dad." The specialist gave him sterile gloves to wear, and threw on a quick hospital gown.

Holy shit, holy fucking shit. Don't mess this up, man. 

Even if his hands trembled, Jinwoo cut his sons cord like he imagined his dad did for him.

The midwife and passed the Jinwoo’s son over to the specialist. “She’ll clean him up, and let’s get his sibling ready to follow.” 

Jinwoo wiped the wet away from his eyes. A son, a baby boy that you made all by yourself, wrapped up in his own aura. An aura almost identical to Jinwoo’s as soon as the cord was cut.

A little baby he only saw for a second, but knew he was the sweetest and most adorable baby in the world. Someone who was destined to do great things.

"Ouch, ouch ouch!” You hissed, waving your hand around until you connected with Jinwoo and crushed his hand in the process.

“Do you need to push again?” The midwife fiddled around under the cloth and looked back at you with a raised brow.

“Yep! I need to- I have to push again!”

Jinwoo sniffled and doubled down, resting his forehead on your hair for a moment. “Come on baby, you’re almost there. You’re doing so well, you can do this. I love you so much.” 

You went into silence again, focusing and drenched in your own sweat, gasping on air between pushes. Only praise kept you going now, or you just ignored Jinwoo, either way, you were too distracted to shout at him and pull him closer than he already was.

But wow, if Jinwoo wasn’t emotional at everything unfolding in front of him by now, he certainly was when he heard the first cry of his second child.

Far too much. How the fuck were you keeping it all together like you were?

“And… we have a girl!”

A son. A daughter. A woman who Jinwoo would call his wife soon.

So much to live for.

So much to lose.

It was then you finally relaxed, after Jinwoo cut his daughter's cord, after the twins were wrapped up in their corresponding swaddles and straight into their incubators. The after birth left your body like you were allergic to it. 

You laid there still enough, your breathing beginning to even out. Jinwoo kissed you and never let you go, he whispered how proud he was, how much love he had developed for you and the twins. He never left your side, holding on to use the bathroom for the last hour because he didn’t want to stop looking at those precious little babies.

He couldn't hold them either, being a week early, the specialist stated that a week in their incubators should be enough. Then you and Jinwoo could take the twins home and start a life together. His heart overflowed with love, calculating and making plans to relocate out of the city, take small time raids to stay close to his family and prevent the risk of an altercation with something similar to that spider ever again.

He couldn’t afford to ever lose his memories again, not with the new, irreplaceable ones he made today.

Levelling up came second for the time being, and looking at the system screen, his quest had officially been completed. He received a significant boost in stats and hie was that much closer to levelling up. Still, it could wait.

“You did so well, baby. I couldn’t be prouder.”

For the first time being in the hospital, you smiled. “I’m proud too. Y’know, at first I wasn’t sure if I could do it, to look after them and be there. But after doing that… I think we can do anything.”

“We can, baby.” Jinwoo grinned, his heart overbrimming with joy. “We have one more hard task to overcome now, though.”

“What is it?”

“What are we calling our babies?”

Two of the most beautiful babies in the world, and they were yours and his only.

Part 28 <- Part 29 -> Part 30

SUMMARY - Jinwoo threatens the doctor that he'll kill her if she keeps acting up. Reader gives birth to a little boy and girl 🤗

Okay, okay! So this will be the last chapter now before I go away, see ya! 🤗🤗🤗

TAG LIST RE-OPEN (The tag list is back up and open for a little while, if you'd like to be tagged, please let me know! 🤗)

Thank you for reading and all of the support on this fic! ❤️ Likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated and I appreciate you all! See you next time 🤗

Tag list - @bubera974 @snowy-violet @sky2lar @starrynights23x @kamiliora

@yessirr7 @qmabailor @yihona-san06 @mashiromochi @daiyanomochi

@justatimidcreator @alia-17 @otomegamesforlife @m00n-estelle @towomatos

@stormnightingale @johnnysactualgf @solarisstarrsolomonsbeloved @johnnysactualgf @notleclerc

@minkuro @misakicchi @lovingyeet @soft-dots @gina239

@sabrina-senpai @tsukimoon-chan @afkmylajah @livelaughlovekuni @keiva1000

DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime or manhwa. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work, thank you!

[tywrites]

heavy | mateo manta

pairing: mateo manta x gn!reader

word count: 1,360 (not proof-read)

warnings: reader is implied to have depression

a/n: okay so this is really bad since i haven't written in quite a long time but!! i love him and i Needed to write something abt him. i desperately need more mateo fics lmao. hope you enjoy <33

-----

You rolled over in your bed, the usually comforting plush of your mattress feeling awfully cold today. You sighed, closing your eyes and quietly hoping to just fall back to sleep. Things had been… difficult recently. Losing your job had definitely taken its toll on you – on your mental health in particular. Even when working from home, you still had to make the time to leave every so often and interact with the real world. But with everything that had happened recently with the dateviators, you hadn’t been able to leave at all.

Of course, you still had the objects. And they were great company! Most of them anyway. But it didn’t stop you from feeling a bit… alone sometimes. You sighed softly, finally accepting the fact that sleep wasn’t coming. You looked over to your end table at the dateviators. You had a lot to do. It was really overwhelming, honestly. You hadn’t even met all of the objects in the house yet, let alone made any progress towards realising any. You had made a lot of close friends through them though. And even one very special, different relationship…

Even just thinking of Mateo brought a slight smile to your face, cheering up your bleak mood ever so slightly. If you’d told yourself a few weeks ago that you’d soon be dating your blanket… well, considering your track record with love, it wouldn’t be all that surprising.

You bit your lip, reaching over to the dateviators. You popped them on, blinking at the warm, pink hue that enveloped your vision. You didn’t think you’d ever get used to this. In a second, Betty had materialised in front of you, perched on the edge of the bed – or uh, on the edge of herself. She gave you a soft smile.

“How’re you feeling today, gorgeous?”

You made a face. “Well for starters, I don’t feel very gorgeous,” you reply groggily, sitting up as you wiped a hand over your tired face.

She chuckled. “Sweetie, you’re always gorgeous to me. But what’s got you so down? You barely slept last night, or the night before… should I be offended?” She was clearly joking, but there was a definite tone of concern in her voice.

“Nah, it’s not you, it’s me,” you admit, looking down at the sheets. “I just… I don’t know. I feel so… heavy? I’m so tired, all the time. Which makes no sense, let’s be real, I’m doing nothing all day but..” You trail off, unsure of how to word it. “I just can’t sleep though. I can’t relax. I feel so tense all the time and I don’t see a way out of it. Easier to just lay in bed, I guess,”

She looks at you, worry in her eyes. “Is there anything I can do?” she asked. You try your best to force a smile.

“Not really. I think it’s just… something I have to deal with on my own,”

She frowned. “Honey, I don’t think-”

“I’ll see you tonight, Betty. Thanks for the talk,” you said quickly, standing up and heading to the bathroom, leaving Betty sitting on the bed, her face twisted in concern.

-------------

You’d spent most of the day dodging the other objects. Mateo especially. You just couldn’t bring yourself to talk to anyone right now. You left the dateviators on the table next to you, doom scrolling on your phone until the socially acceptable time to hit the hay. You were planning to go straight to bed, not call on anyone with the dateviators. The idea of bothering any of them, of forcing them to sit and listen to your silly problems was excruciating. But as you settled down into bed, trying in vain to close your eyes and let sleep come for you, there was only one thing on your mind.

You knew how upset Mateo would be if he knew you were avoiding him, especially if he knew it was because you weren’t feeling the greatest. Helping others is what drove him, it was the one thing he took pride in the most. He’d never let you wallow in your own self pity. You glanced at the glasses on your bedside table and sighed in defeat. You slid them on slowly.

You hadn’t even had them on for a few seconds before Mateo was materialising. You didn’t expect him to be right here, waiting for you. He was usually in the living room, caring for the inanimals. That man never took a break. When you saw the worried expression on his sweet face, you wanted to break down there and then.

“Ah mi vida, finally!” He said, sitting down onto the edge of the bed. “I’ve been waiting for you all day,”

You flushed in embarrassment. So he’d been watching your pathetic display of self-loathing, huh? “Sorry, Mateo… I’ve just been, um, tired,” you said, avoiding his eyes. If there was anything in this world that could make you immediately spill all your darkest secrets, it was Mateo’s big, brown eyes.

“I’ve noticed… my love, I’m worried about you. Betty came to me earlier and told me you haven’t been sleeping. Is that true?” He asked tactfully.

“Betty said that?” Betrayal, you thought.

“She was worried. Honestly, a lot of us have been worried. You haven’t been acting like yourself for a while now. If there’s anything I can do, anything at all, you know you just have to ask, right? I would do anything for you,” he said, a small blush rising to his cheeks. “I mean, I’d hope you’d know that…”

You finally look at him, truly seeing the concern on his features. His bedhead was especially messy today, as though he’d been running his hand through it every five seconds. His usual easy smile was replaced with a small frown and you realised something. In that moment, you would do anything to see that smile again. As you were preoccupied with gazing into his eyes, Mateo took this opportunity to place his hand over yours. His touch was feather soft as his thumb gently traced the back of your hand. You could almost feel your anxiety melting away.

You finally spoke.

“Mateo?”

“Yes, amor?”

“Could… could we cuddle?”

You ignore the burning in your cheeks and make your request, looking down at his hand still on yours. You focused on his touch. His touch seemed to make many things a whole lot easier.

At your words, a huge grin took over Mateo’s face. “You never even have to ask,” he said, bringing your hand up to his lips and placing a soft kiss onto the back of it.

You manoeuvred yourself so there would be room for Mateo beside you, turning so your back was towards him. He wasted no time in enveloping you in his arms, pulling you into the comforting warmth of his chest. His face snuggled into the crook of your neck and he took a deep breath in.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed this. The inanimals have missed you too…”

An arrow of guilt hit you right in the heart.

“I’m really sorry, ‘Teo… I-”

“You have no reason to be sorry, amor. Look, I can tell you’re struggling right now. And there’s nothing wrong with that at all, you have nothing to be ashamed about. But you have people around you that can help share your load, okay? You taught me that when we first met. When you bottle it all inside, it’s just too heavy for one person to handle. I want to help you. Please let me,”

You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes. You sniffled, wiping them away as quick as you could but they just kept coming. Mateo brought up the sleeve of his plush duvet jacket, wiping away the tears as they trickled down your face. You both said nothing. You laid there, wrapped up in Mateo’s arms, feeling more safe and secure than you had in a very long time. If Mateo was there to help you hold it, maybe things could be a lot lighter from now on.

[mediumorange]

Ok so I'm finally getting around to my thoughts on the theatrical rerelease!

The first thing that really hit me was the sense of scale. The long shots, the long silences, the sky that fills the entire frame. Seen in theaters, Brokeback Mountain conveys the physical experience of the Mountain West and the Great Plains like no media I've ever experienced. The sky is staggeringly large. I lived in the Great Plains region for several years, and that's the thing that sticks with me. Unbelievably, the sky feels even bigger over the prairie than it does over the ocean. The sky stretches on forever. It dwarfs the prairie, which also stretches on forever, and you can't imagine the prairie will ever end, let alone the continent, let alone the world. I think that I understood intellectually, having seen the movie on my television and my computer screen, that the shot selection was intended to convey this sensation. Seeing it on the big screen, I felt it for the first time.

The second thing was Heath's performance. It is so completely outrageous on the big screen in the best way. Every inch of him is in this character, every ounce, every atom. Every tiny movement, posture, breath, everything. Nothing is wasted, and when he's that big you see all of it. It was really special to watch.

Third, the audio quality. Thanks to the audio technology in the theater, I heard things I had never heard before. For me, the most remarkable thing was the wind. It was omnipresent. You could hear it in nearly every scene that took place in Wyoming, even the ones that were inside. For me, this felt so true to life. On the prairie, the wind is inescapable. For hundreds and hundreds of miles, it is so perfectly flat that there is nothing is in the way of the wind. It never slows down. It hits you full force. And it's constant. I can't remember where he said it, but Ang Lee observed this about Wyoming, as well, when he and his team visited Wyoming for research and location scouting. If I remember correctly, he described the wind as "maddening" (or something similar).

The scene that particularly comes to mind is one of the earliest scenes featuring Ennis and Alma, at their "lonesome" ranch house before they move to the apartment above the laundromat. She's doing the laundry, the kids are crying, everything is chaotic, and the wind never abates. This is true to life, but it's true to Annie Proulx, too! In Annie's writing, the environment is always a character in the scene. It's not just a place for the action to unfold. The environment is why the action happens, and it tells you everything you need to know about the action and how to feel about it. The constancy of the wind, of the presence of the outside world pressing in against ostensibly private places, the inescapability of the movement of a great and terrible world... It's marvelous.

The theater's audio quality also allowed me to hear some dialogue I had never heard before. There's some quiet dialogue that happens during the Second Night In The Tent (tm) scene and then immediately following the "I wish I knew how to quit you" monologue. I had been aware that there was murmuring going on, but I had never heard the words before. Both times, though in very different contexts, Ennis is emotionally overwrought. Both times, we hear very quietly, "I'm sorry." Then, "It's alright, it's alright." The juxtaposition of these lines in two different contexts is heartbreaking. It also feels very intentional to have the beginning of the story and the end mirror each other in this way-- we get another interpolation/juxtaposition in the latter scene, where we are presented with the "dozy embrace,” as Annie terms it, from the "You're sleeping on your feet like a horse" memory right before Ennis drives away following their fight. Through the contrast of tenderness with bitterness, both are heightened.

The last thing I noticed that felt really impactful is something I probably could have noticed on a smaller screen had I been paying more attention. I think I noticed it this time because the big screen experience really drew my attention to the cinematography and shot selection in a new way. The shot of Ennis arriving in Signal at the very beginning of the movie and the shot of him driving home at the very end, right before we see him put the numbers on his mailbox (presumably having just moved in), are identical. It is very early in the morning, or perhaps late in the evening but either way nearly dark, and we see a lone vehicle in the distance as it makes its way across the mountains. The only difference is the direction the vehicle moves. Once from left to right, once from right to left.

This shot clarifies something for me. In the short story, Ennis is living in Signal by the time he and Jack go on their final trip together. In a conversation with Jack, he refers to "a woman who worked part-time at the Wolf Ears bar" (Cassie, in the film) "in Signal where he was working now for Stoutamire’s cow and calf outfit." In the movie, however, Ennis is clearly living in Riverton at this point. We see him leaving the Riverton post office with his postcard stamped "DECEASED." The choice to put this mirrored shot right before the shot of Ennis putting numbers on his mailbox says to me that Ennis has now moved to Signal. Only in the film, he doesn't move until after Jack's death. Why now?

In a way, this is Ennis and Jack finally moving in together. Moving to the town where they first met, the closest town to Brokeback Mountain. Brokeback Mountain, which Jack called "all we got." Brokeback Mountain, which he wanted for his final resting place.

TLDR; Go see it in theaters.

[sammyslittlenymphet]

❥❥ Lavender Skies

❥❥ Pairing : boyfriend!Dean Winchester x nerdy girlfriend!Reader ❥❥Warnings : very mild language, light kissing, established relationship and just too sweet fluff and play-fighting. 18+ only !!  ❥❥Word count : 1k+

The dewy summer Sun streams through the Impala’s window and casts a soft, glowing shadow of the inside of your boyfriend’s prized Chevy- or “Baby” as he likes to call it- on the pages of your worn copy of ‘Pride and Prejudice’. You lie in the front seat of the muscle car, bare legs, sticky with the evidence of June’s heat, kicking idly out of the passenger window. Outside, the Sun is lazily starting to dip below the horizon, colouring the Nebraska sky in pretty shades of the early evening. The motel parking lot is quiet, save for the faint hum of cicadas and the tune you are sounding softly under your breath- probably some classic rock Dean introduced you to with a proud quirk of his lips. You adore how he shares everything he loves with you without even knowing just how special you feel when he makes you a part of his world, a part of himself.

You turn a page, lost in the fantasy world between your fingertips. So much so, you barely have time to look up or flinch when the Impala’s door slams shut behind your head and your book is snatched from your hands with a roar of delighted, boyish laughter.

“Hey!” you yelp, sitting up, your glasses sliding defiantly down your nose as you glare at the culprit. Dean Winchester sits there, all broad shoulders and his signature cocky grin, his dreamy green eyes sparkling with mischief under the fading light. He’s in a soft, worn flannel and jeans, hair slightly mussed from running his fingers through it, and my god, he’s gorgeous—rugged and handsome, and all yours. And right now, you hate the way your toes curl just a little and your heart kicks up pace by habit as his heady scent hits you- all leather, whiskey, gun-oil and courage, all distinctly him. “Gimme my book back Dean!” you whine, reaching out just as he whips it out of your reach. “No can do sweetheart.” he chuckles, his voice all gravelly and rough and stupidly infuriating in this moment, making a million butterflies flutter in your chest even as he drives you up a wall. With a petulant pout and another childish whine, you make grabby hands for your book again and after a healthy bout of struggling, he just tugs into his lap with a handsome smirk, eliciting a gasp from you as the hem of your sundress rides up your thighs. You try desperately to ignore the heat blooming in your cheeks as you cross your arms and pout at him like an angry little doll sitting all pretty and pissed in his lap, making his grin widen. “You’ll lose my page.” you huff, giving up and resorting to complaining instead. “Nah, I’ve got it right here, baby. Just wanna know whatcha reading.” Dean says with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows, bringing the book down. He flips it open, thumbing through it with exaggerated curiosity, “Lemme see what’s got my girl all starry-eyed…except for me, that is.” He clears his throat dramatically, then reads, voice dripping with mock gravitas, ‘‘You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you.” He pauses, one eyebrow shooting up as he looks at you, that perfect smirk growing as he works you up into a thoroughly flustered state from his teasing. “Well, damn, sweetheart. This sappy stuff what keeping you from givin’ your boyfriend attention ? ” “Maybe I don’t wanna give my boyfriend attention cause he’s so-” you fumble, searching for the right word, “ annoying.” you finally say with a self-pleased smile and an air of adorable superiority. He laughs, pushing your glasses up and presses a loving kiss on your cheek. “ Well, I may be annoying but you still think about me while reading about this Darcy guy and the one last week, what was his name…” he trails off, thinking hard, his brows pinching together. “ Dostoevsky ?” you ask, barely suppressing your giggle with an unimpressed expression. “Ugh, such a long word.” he groans playfully. “Did you know that hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia is the fear of long words but it's such a long word itself, isn’t that so cool !? But…it's not the longest word. That’s pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis! But I think this might be second! ” you exclaim excitedly, veering completely off-topic with the happiness of sharing with your boyfriend the new fact you learnt just a while back.  You are thrown off guard by the fond way Dean is staring at you. Like you’re his entire world. Like he is memorising every nerdy word that is coming out of your mouth just so he can hear it on repeat again and again, anytime he wants. “I fuckin’ love you, y’know that? You’re so damn cute, baby. God, how did I manage to end up with you as my girl. You’re my little nerd, yeah ?” he says, each word making your heart feel so full- so full of his love, so full of him- that you giggle all flustered, blushing and girlishly happy. “God, I love that.” he groans with a smirk before pulling you in for a kiss. His lips guide yours tenderly, his hands cupping your face like you’re made of porcelain and he pours all of his heart- which he lets no one but you near- into the rhythm and feeling of his mouth against yours. You both pull away a little breathless, a little dazed and little too much in love.

“How ‘bout you read me some of that little book, hmm ?” he indulges, his voice rougher. And after drowning in the utter girly feeling of being so loved and spoiled, you press a big, happy kiss to his perfect cupid bow lips and settle against him as he hands you the book back. Wrapping his arms around his precious nerdy little girl, Dean nuzzles into your strawberry scented hair as you begin to read, giggling at him to let you concentrate when he starts peppering obsessive little kisses against your neck and shoulders. 

The Sun dips lower and the parking lot is no longer silent. It now echoes with the sounds of the both of you falling deeper in love and the growing hum of the crickets outside Baby, under the lavender sky. 

❥❥ Author's message : I really loved writing this cause Dean with a nerdy girl is just reeyuhlee awwhhdorable. if you'd like to be tagged, please don't hesitate to let me know !! comments and re-blogs are highly appreciated !! and I'd love to hear all your thoughts on the fic and my writing so please let me know down below. and of course, my inbox is totally open to any thoughts or requests :3. hope you like it !!

❥❥ Taglist : @mostlymarvelgirl, @jayhalsteadfan-2417

[sainzbrina55]

Franco about the flight with hamilton (translated)

" Honestly, it was the best flight I’ve ever had in my life. I would’ve paid—would’ve paid everything I have—to take a flight with him and… yeah, really good vibes. It was a unique flight overall. It was after Barcelona, and we talked the whole flight.

He had his bed ready in the back and said, ‘When we take off, I’m going to sleep, come in, it’s fine.’ But he didn’t sleep at all during the flight, so… I guess he enjoyed it.

But yeah, I was really happy. He asked in the group if anyone was going back to London, any driver to go with him, so they wouldn’t have to rent a plane. And since no one was answering, I replied. I told him, ‘I’m going to London, but with EasyJet,’ I said—haha, with EasyJet, bathroom line and all.

And he laughed, he really laughed, and sent me a private message saying, ‘I have a plane, come with us.’ It was him and his manager, so it was the three of us. And I had a really, really good time, honestly. He told me lots of stories, I really enjoyed it. It was a very special flight.

You know he’s my idol, so for me, flying with him and the fact that he opened the door for me like that... eh, and it was also one of the first times I flew in a private jet, and to top it off—flying with Hamilton... it was mind-blowing.

Honestly, I enjoyed it a lot, I learned a lot, it’s one of those flights that’ll stay in my memory, because it was truly a dream and… and yeah, he’s a really good person too. That’s another thing—you see one version of him, and then you meet someone completely different off track.

So yeah, very happy I got to have that flight, and the stories he told me were amazing… maybe someday ill share them"

[scimita]

oh woww im not usually a liushen shipper but this has me having THINKING and THOUGHTS and THINKING THOUGHTS.

As Liu Qingge starts leaving the sect more and more, and for longer periods of time, and avoiding (sometimes straight up ignoring) Shen Yuan, Shen Yuan has to come to terms with the fact that his best friend ended their friendship (he doesn't understand exactly why, was it because he bought Binghe to the sect before he was the right age to cultivate? Was it that he adopted Binghe but wasnt married? Did Liu Qingge just grow tired of him? ).

So, after months and months, Shen Yuan stops trying to figure out what set his best friend, Liu Qingge, Shidi off, figuring that Shidi probably has a good reason for not talking to him anymore and tries to mind his own business from then on. All is well! He's completely fine with this! He doesn't go to try and enter Bai Zhan anymore (the Bai Zhan disciples wouldn't let him anyway), he doesn't send letters (they were all left unanswered), he doesn't even ask the sect leader how his Shidi is doing (the pity in YQY eyes became a bit too much for him)!! Hes completely indifferent to this sudden change in his life and daily routine!! Everything is completely fine and he! is! handling! it!!!!!! Now, if everyone else would understand that and leave him alone about it, then he'd be even better!!!!

The only people that visit Shen Yuan and Shen Yuan visits are his brother and, urgh, Shang Qinghua. Though, lately, he's been too...busy...with work..... to attend tea time with his brother, totally not avoiding him because he's being interrogated everytime without fail about what exactly happened, even though Shen Yuan told his didi the truth the first time around (that Liu Qingge visited him to ask about the rumors and then met Binghe, ask about how long he's been Shen Yuan son, and the stormed off completely unprompted, and is now refusing to even look at him). Shang Qinghua just gets this look in his eyes everytime he visits and its making Shen Yuan uncomfortable (pity, Cucumber-bro, that you dont realise how whipped the War God is for you). But Shang Qinghua values being alive so he doesnt ask Shen Yuan about what happened.

So. Yeah. Shen Yuan is spending more and more time isolated, alone, lonely working on his peak. Binghe seems to be having a good time though so thats good. His fellow disciples have integrated him in their circles, he has friends, he attends classes like all the other kids (even if he quickly seems to outshine them), and he worries about spends time bonding with his a-die.

From Binghe's perspective, his a-die's very dear special friend has stopped visiting ever since Binghe came to the peak (the other disciples tell him of the courtship, of the visits, of the times his a-die didnt look like he was crying his eyes out every night instead of sleeping). A-die has reassured him time and time again that it's not his fault, that Binghe has done nothing wrong, that everything is fine and that he's not responsible for how adults react to his presence, and For God's sake, Binghe! Im not kicking you out of the sect because of Liu Qingge, who told you that ??!!!, and Stop apologizing, my sweet Binghe, you didn't ruin anything by being here, my son deserves only the best regardless of other's opinion on this matter.

Now. Let it be known that Liu Qingge is not having a good time. His long-time courtship partner has admitted to cheating on him and then proceeded to tell him it's none of his business what he does with his private life, so.

Liu Qingge is having a very bad time, actually. He's returned all the courtship gifts, has been ignoring and avoiding Shen Yuan, the love of his life, his Shixiong, and leaving the sect on progressively more dangerous missions. His own courtship gifts have yet to be returned, but it's understandable. Most of them were rare beasts with miraculous cultivation properties so they were eaten, or refined into pills, or something other he doesnt care about because he is not thinking about Shen Yuan right now. Though he told his disciples to leave the box of other gifts in front of his house in case he isnt on the peak, it has yet to arrive. He doesn't understand, didnt his Shixiong tell him his life has nothing to do with Liu Qingge's? Didn't he admit to loving another and having a child with them and then raising said child in secret? Is he just laughing about how pathetic and desperate Liu Qingge has been to believe he actually accepted his courtship that whole decade? Whatever. It doesn't matter. His Shixiong has made himself very clear and Liu Qingge is not one to ponder such things. He is not.

It is on one of these very dangerous missions that Liu Qingge ends up incredibly wounded and forced to spend time healing in a nearby, somewhat isolated, village. He doesn't know exactly where he is, somewhere along the Luo river, but somehow, the villagers seem to recognize him. They help him with a room at an inn, with the meager medical supplies they have, and with time alone to rest and heal. It is not unusual for mortals to look up to and idolize immortal cultivators, but even by Liu Qingge's standards and expectations, they are going above and beyond. Suspicious after being treated such a way while being in a very weakened state, he asks. The villagers' responses vary, but the gist is Oh Immortal Cultivator, how could we possibly sit by and watch when we could help instead? and Oh Immortal Cultivator, we have heard only the best things about The Bai Zhan War God! Of course we'd want to be of assistance! and Oh Immortal Cultivator how could we not help Peak Lord Shen Yuan's husband? He has done many things for our village, including adopting an orphaned boy to save him from the bullying! and most of these responses grate on his nerves because he hasn't been met with such kindness ever sincer he first met Shen Yuan and..... wait. Wait what. What do you mean, adopted? What do you mean HUSBAND?

Well yes, say the villagers, back when the war was still on, Peak Lord Shen Yuan came running with an infant boy in the village, yelling for a healer. Back then we didnt know who he was, and we were already nearly out of food for the winter, so we didnt have the means to help him. A washer-woman stepped up, even though she herself was barely surviving, and helped him and the infant. It's from her that we found out that Peak Lord Shen found the baby boy floating down the Luo river in the dead of winter, newly born and nearly frozen to death and chose to save him. Liu Qingge feels like he's been thrown off his axis. What do you mean, floating down the river? Isnt the boy his son? How do you know he didnt just lie and tell you he only found the boy to avoid accountability for having a son out of wedlock?

Well yes, say the villagers, the town healer came eventually. After Peak Lord Shen promised a hefty sum, the healer treated the boy of a very high fever, telling Peak Lord Shen that he's lucky his son only had a fever, and not hypothermia. The Peak Lord then insisted that the boy wasnt his by blood, only that he found the baby, and offered to show us proof. The healer asked how he planned to prove that he didnt father the boy and the Peak Lord said he has a special flower, gifted to him by someone very dear, that could prove his innocence. He smeared a drop of blood on the flower and said that if it's petals turn blue once it touches the infant, then he is his father. If it turns red, then there is no blood connection between the two of them. The flower turned red.

Liu Qingge has to sit down. His head is spinning and he doesnt know what to believe anymore. The villagers seem to be telling the truth, but didnt Shen Yuan admit to cheating? Right, of course, perhaps the boy isnt his by blood, but he still called him his son. Perhaps Shen Yuan's lover had a child then attempted to get rid of it before Shen Yuan found out, though without any luck. The boy also calls him a-die, so what if Shen Yuan's lover is simply the washer-woman? What if they fell in love when Shen Yuan bought Binghe in the village?

No No, say the villagers, the washer-woman and Peak Lord Shen didnt even live in the same house those 4 years Binghe spend in the village. Peak Lord Shen was away for long periods of time, he said he was looking for the boy's mother along the river, but everytime he came back, he would teach the boy and help raise him, that's why he calls him a-die. When the washer-woman died of an unknown disease and before the Peak Lord adopted the boy, the Peak Lord was already back at his sect. And besides! The Peak Lord was buying gifts left and right for his intended! He spoke very highly of them!! He told us his very special friend was the War God of Bai Zhan and was hoping to find a gift that his Shidi would appreciate!!!

Liu Qingge feel ready to combust. His head is pounding, he's never been more confused, and this damn injury won't heal fast enough!!! With a bone weary sigh he asks one last thing, why did you refer to me as Peak Lord Shen's husband? If Liu Qingge calculations are right, then Shen Yuan has been meaning to ask him to marry for about six years. SIX YEARS!! (...well, seven now, but he's already broken off the courtship and is starting to think that it might have been a mistake).

Well, say the villagers, when the Peak Lord left the village, he said he had to go back before his best friend started to worry! He said he found a suitable gift and he was building up the courage to gift it!! Naturally, we assumed that, since he came back to adopt the boy and bring him to the sect, his gift was accepted, the wedding held, the boy had a second father, and all was well!

Liu Qingge retires for the night. He's suddenly hit with a very deep sense of dread. He feels like the guilt of his relief crash down on him and doesn't know how to process it. The Boy is adopted. Shen Yuan was going to ask him to marry him and raise a Child together. Oh my God. Oh my God.

Liu Qingge is not panicking. He is not on the verge of a panic attack in his room at an inn in an isolated village, god knows how far away from the sect, healing from an less-awful injury and he is not conflicted as to what to believe. Shen Yuan admitted to having the boy during the war, but then again, he didnt say he fathered him, just that he's been raising him. Shen Yuan has said that his private life has nothing to do with Liu Qingge's, but then again, it's not unusual that his Shixiong was just telling him that it's fine to keep their lifes somewhat private from one another, his parents did that too, had separate bedrooms and everything but they were more than happy together. Liu Qingge feels ready to pass out!! This is too much for one day!! He'll think of a solution in the morning !!

So. Liu Qingge leaves the village the next day, after getting some directions towards the sect, like his ass was on fire. He still doesn't know exactly what's happened during those 4 years, but is now willing to try and clear things up with Shen Yuan. Except. When he gets to the sect (in record time!) he is immediately accosted by Mu Qingfang and subsequently put on house arrest. He is not to leave his bed for as much as a leisure walk Do You Hear Me ?!?!!! so he devises to come up with another way to meet with Shen Yuan. He tells his disciples to let Shen Yuan onto the peak, to lead him straight to his house, to stop glaring at him goddammit! But. Shen Yuan doesn't visit, doesn't write him, doesn't even seem to know that Liu Qingge is back and has been stuck in his own home for the past 2 weeks. So!! Seeing that he has no other choice, Liu Qingge sneaks (yes, sneaks, those talismans at his front door are no joke) out if his home, out of his peak, and onto Shen Yuan's peak, going straight for the Peak Lord's residence on foot.

However tired he is when he gets there, he take two deep breaths and knocks (knocks!!!) on the door. For a moment, all is still and silent. Then, the patter of footsteps coming towards the door, then the door being opened, then!!!!....oh. Shen Yuan's Binghe. For a moment they just stare at each other. Gone is the warm, shy smile Binghe first greeted him with, now The Boy's face is stony, nearly blank. He doesn't greet his Shishu. He doesn't call out to his a-die about this traitor his fellow Peak Lord being there. Liu Qingge is the first to break the silence for once, where is Shen Yuan? aggravated, Binghe nearly shuts the door in his face. Why do you care? he responds, Liu Qingge ignoring his question says Shen Binghe, call your father out here now. Now truly upset, Binghe replies my name is LUO Binghe, and MY father doesn't want to see you!!! and slams the door in Liu Qingge's face before he can open his stupid stupid mouth again!!

Liu Qingge is stunned at the audacity of this boy. Fine, if The Boy wont let him in, he'll ask someone else!! So, against his better judgment, he goes to Qing Jing. He is promptly mocked and laughed off the peak by that Shen Qingqiu! So he goes to An Ding, and!! he is more or less thrown off the peak by that RAT Shang Qinghua! What the Fuck! Its fine, its fine. He'll speak to Shen Yuan at the next Peak Lord meeting.

And so, he attends, actually on time, and goes straight for Shen Yuan, only to be intercepted by the goddamn Sect! Leader!! He ends up spending the rest of the meeting staring at Shen Yuan's drawn face, at his eyebags, his way too thin complexion and has to leave before he drowns in guilt. Its not fine, its not fine, Shen Yuan still smiles at him, a strained thing, even though Liu Qingge is the reason he look like that.

Liu Qingge get lucky. A village south of the mountains has requested his and, specifically, Shen Yuan's help with a wild beasts lurking in their forest. Unable to refuse, both of them accepted. Liu Qingge spends the days before their upcoming mission panicking pacing around to make sure he has everything packed, regardless of the fact that he used to leave with nothing but his sword. When the day to leave comes and he sees Shen Yuan, something starts to feel tight in his throat and he is completely unable to say a word to the man he is still hopelessly in love with before they depart from the sect. As for Shen Yuan, well, he takes the silence as another indicator towards the fact that his Shidi cant stand him anymore, not that he knows why. They leave the sect on their swords. Shen Yuan eventually breaks the silence to ask where exactly they are going, he doesnt recognize the village name, and for how long they will be flying (could he have asked the Sect Leader? Yes. Did he? No.). Liu Qingge answers easily enough. But when it comes his turn to ask anything or to start (start!! how the mighty have fallen) a conversation, he is met with dry, short answers and a lingering tension in the air. Liu Qingge feels like this might be something he cant fix. He hasn't even asked about The Boy yet!!!

Shen Yuan thinks he's doing great! He hasnt answered his Shidi with his usual rambling, not wanting to annoy him and risk being ignored the rest of this missions, and is ignoring the uncomfortable silence with great success!

And thus, this is exactly how most of the mission goes. Stilted conversations in place of the usual easy going ones, uncomfortable silence for long periods of time and even a moment where, upon actually seeing the beast, Shen Yuan has lost his inhibitions and gone on a long rambling tangent about the beasts usual eating habits, sleeping habits, mating habits and everything and anything that came to mind about it. It does, however come to an abrupt stop, when he turns to look at Liu Qingge, a bright smile lightning up his face, and finds his Shidi already looking a him, face soft. When they make eye contact though, Shen Yuan smile falters, then drops not a moment later, and his rambling ends with a weirdly strained uh, yeah, anyway, thats what we were looking for. Then he falls completely silent and Liu Qingge's guilt threatens to swallow him up, so he asks, perhaps a touch annoyed about The Boy. And he sees it. The second his Shixiong, his Shen Yuan, completely shuts him out. The moment his face becomes blank, the second Shen Yuan apologizes and tells him Shidi has made it abundantly clear what he thinks on the matter of my son, there's no need to speak on it anymore.

The ride back is dead silent. Liu Qingge is beating himself up for botching the conversation, Shen Yuan is scolding himself for getting carried away and having his Shidi remind him of the fact that they are not even friends anymore. They dont say anything to one another even when they reach the sect.

The following weeks seem to be a blur. Liu Qingge starts sending beasts to Shen Yuan's peak as an apology for the uncomfortable conversation, Shen Yuan assumes Liu Qingge's telling him that he hasnt forgotten about what he's done wrong on the mission (exactly what he doesnt know, but he knows his Shidi got annoyed enough to nearly leave him behind when going back to the sect) so he sends the beasts back, along side boxes upon boxes of every gift Liu Qingge has gotten him, because, well, can he really move on if he keep holding on to someone who doesnt want anything to do with him anymore? Liu Qingge misunderstand, believes he is being rejected, starts desperately sending rarer and rarer beasts, and Shen Yuan just keeps sending them back. Everyone is confused. The disciples dont know whats going on anymore, the Sect Leader doesnt even want to get involved, Luo Binghe start outright disrespecting Liu Qingge to his face everytime he sees the man.

And this is where im gonna end it because i have developed LiuShen worms in my brain and just needed to clear them out. Wonderful AU, im no writer but i just wanted to share my Thoughts and Thinking

I have this older-brother-SY (also beast peak lord) AU cooking and although I have Many thoughts here’s the liushen part (warning this is long af, TLDR at bottom):

LQG has been pining for the beast peaks’ head disciple for years and SY has no idea (like usual). LQG, over time, has recognized and accepted his affections, but has no idea if SY feels the same. Sure, they get along great, and he’s confident SY considers him a friend (if not a best friend), but more than that? SY if friendly to everyone- and LQG can’t tell what liberties, if any, are exclusive to him.

But it’s clear that the cultivation world is on the brink of a war with the demon realm- and LQG will be at the forefront. As much as he prides himself on his battle prowess he knows he’s not indomitable- and Tianlang-Jun is a force to be reckoned with.

So, he decides to offer SY his suit- even if he's rejected, at least he'll know. In melodrama fashion, LQG asks SY, if he'll accept his courtship once the wars over. SY (unknowingly, the dumbass) accepts.

OK. so now that we have context, lets get silly with it :)

The war goes over the same how it did in SVSSS, YQY subdues TLJ and all peak lords survive. LQG begins to officially court SY... who's been traveling along the Lou river since the end of the war. It's not an issue per say but he also won't tell LQG why; just that he's looking for something. This continues for 4 years. After those four years, SY returns to CQMT. He doesn't leave for extended periods anymore, unless a mission requires it, and even then it's clear he returns as soon as possible. In lieu of his travels he's begin descending the mountain several times a week, to the small town at its' base. He deflects whenever anyone asks why- and although LQG does find it odd, he trusts SY, who says, impishly, that LQG will find out eventually.

That day does come 6 years later.

Word spreads fast around CQMT, so of course LQG, usually not privy to the intersect gossip, (“Shizun, this one has news! Ah! I know gossip is bad, I would never- it’s about Shen-shibo! He’s brought a young boy back to his peak!”) would be near-first to visit his beloved.

LQG: “The rumors are true?”

SY: “Hm? Meddling in gossip are you, shidi? What are they saying, exactly?”

LQG: “Tsk- that you’ve brought a new disciple to the peak- one much too young to cultivate.”

SY: “Ahhh well… I surmise there is some truth to that hearsay after all… he’ll be home for dinner soon- he’s a great chef! Oh, shidi, you must stay for dinner!”

…

SY: “…and their claws are retractable! Despite taking up 50% of their paws! They use this to ambush larger prey, making said prey think they’re harmless- oh, Binghe, come, come; meet your Shishu!”

LBH: “Yes, A-die!”

LQG: "..."

LQG: “……what?”

SY: “Binghe, this is Liu Qingge, your shishu, and a dear friend of mine. Qingge, this is Binghe.”

LQG: “…he called you a-die.”

SY: “Oh! Yes, I’ll sure he’ll need some time to adjust to Shizun.”

LQG: “Adjust.”

SY: “Yes, adjust, he’s called me A-die most of his life. After all, he is my son.”

LQG: “Your son. That you’ve been raising.”

SY: “Yes, Shidi, that’s correct.”

Lqg goes only silent for a bit and SY releases LBH to the kitchens. He’s gotten quite good at reading LQG over the years and knows he’s upset- at what he isn’t sure.

SY: “..Shidi?”

LQG (jaw pinched): “How long?”

SY: “..How long what, shidi?”

LQG : “Have you had-“ (handwaves)

SY: “How long have I been raising him? About 6 years, why?”

LQG: “….and how old is he.”

SY: “Ah, he’s 10, will be 11 this upcoming winter. Make no mistake, I would have been there since birth if given the chance!”

LQG: “… Since the war ended. You- you had a child during that time? You never thought to tell anyone- to tell me?”

SY: “..Well, family matters are private matters, I’m sure shidi understands.”

LQG: “Private! You- shameless! A decade- I’ve wasted a decade- and you never intended to tell me? What did you think would happen when you brought him here, Shen Yuan?!?”

SY (doesn’t know what’s going on but is protective of LBH nonetheless): “Does it matter? He’s here now, and that isn’t going to change! I’m not sure why you’re so concerned with my private life!”

LQG: “Your life- did you ever consider mine?!”

SY: “Like your life will change! I have a son to raise and protect- what all does that have to do with you?!”

LQG (fuming): “I see. You’ve made your point, Shen Yuan. I’ll stop interfering in your life- so separate from mine.” (Storms off)

CQMT witnesses the worst breakup imaginable.

SY has no idea why LQG got so worked up- maybe because SY wasn’t married? LQG was always so traditional…

Apparently, LQG left the day after their fight. Well whatever his issue is hopefully he’s in better spirits once he returns.

LQG returns 4 months later and doesn’t visit like usual. In fact, two days after his return, SY starts receiving packages. Boxes filled with trinkets and books he’s given LQG over the years- even a couple pairs of robes and a set of vambraces he had custom made for LQG. So. Whatever set LQG off clearly hadn’t been resolved. And he really doesn’t want to lose his best friend over… what? He still has no idea why LQG got so upset.

SY resolves to snub his pride and treck to Bai Zhan.

Only, once he arrives, he’s.. blocked? Denied entry? By the Bai Zhan disciples?? They were usually so sweet, charming in their own gruff way, but now they’re just short of openly hostile.

It’s dumb and angsty 🙄 but it tickles something in my brain

TLDR; LQG begins courting SY early in the story, before LBH is born. After TLJ is subdued and SY connects the only heavenly demon to obvi being LBHs dad he sets off to find LBH and ensure he has a better life. He ends up raising LBH with the washerwoman and LBH views SY as his dad and calls him such. Once she passes SY takes him back to CQMT where they meet LQG. LQG hears LBH call SY "a-die" and thinks that SY cheated on him; SY unknowingly confirms this- he also doesn't know that LQG has been courting him. Cue melodrama rivaling QiJiu except the whole sect gets to watch the fallout not just the aftermath.

[akira-dulbar]

a precious jewel.

Image from Pinterest (I finally know how to post images).

Summary: For your age, you have a unique appearance; you look younger than you are, but it becomes difficult to have someone, although that stops being the case when you meet a man in a suit.

-----------

Thanks to your genes, you've never had to worry much about your appearance. Some call you a time stealer, others believe you have the fountain of youth, and others call you a liar for not believing in your age.

But that never bothered you, you didn't pay attention to it, not until you realized that finding a partner was difficult, or rather, VERY DIFFICULT.

You didn't pay much attention to having children, but you still wanted a partner who loved you and didn't see you as just a pretty face, or something even more unpleasant.

Every man you've dated was worse than the last, and you have several examples.

There was one who was a little younger than you, not enough to worry about, but still considerable enough to date you. He was charming, sweet, and romantic, but that was forgotten when he started calling you his sugar mommy and started making jokes about it. You wanted to ignore it, but you couldn't when he insistently asked you for money.

Then another man came along who was a little older than you, which didn't bother you because you thought he'd be more mature than the last. That was forgotten again when he started showing you off like a trophy, saying you were younger than you were to impress others by landing a "so young" woman. You hated him like crazy because you were proud of your age because of your experience and everything you'd been through, thank you.

And so the list of imbecile men you had the misfortune of dating continued. You almost thought you'd be left without a partner…

Until you met a particularly polite and charming butler.

---------------

You volunteered to pick up your niece from school. You didn't have anything special to do that day, and when your younger brother called for help, you didn't refuse.

And there you were, ready to go pick her up. When you got out of your car to head for the gate, you saw a man dressed like a butler standing in front of the gate next to a car shouting for money. There were a few minutes left until the kids left, so you just decided to stay at the gate for your niece to see you. Nothing unusual.

The minutes passed, and you were still waiting for the gate to open. You decided to close your phone and check the notifications to see if anything happened. You didn't realize you had dropped your wallet when you took it out.

"Excuse me, ma'am, you dropped your wallet." You looked up to see the same butler from before, only this time with your flower-printed wallet.

"Oh, thank you very much, sir…" you gesture to the man as you take your wallet.

"Alfred Pennyworth, if it's not too much trouble, I could ask where you got that wallet."

"Well, Mr. Pennyworth, I couldn't tell you where I got it because I made it."

"Really? You have some very peculiar designs. You have good taste, madam…"

You tell him your name as you put your wallet away and he thinks for a moment.

"Do you like flowers, Mr. Pennyworth?"

"That's right. Gardening is my favorite hobby, and your flower designs are beautiful." You feel a smile spread across your lips when he says those words.

"Wow, it's nice to meet another gardener in this city," you say as you shake his hand.

"Do you like gardening too?" Alfred shakes your hand and squeezes it gently.

"Yes, and sewing too, although you can deduce that from the wallet." You try to let go of his hand, but he takes it and kisses your palm, making you freeze and feel your cheeks turn a little pink.

"It's also nice to meet a woman with good taste like you," he says, still holding your hand in his. Your heart wouldn't stop beating, and you felt like a schoolgirl.

You weren't religious, but if God finally granted your wish for a good name, you'd be so happy and a good believer. You say, looking into Alfred's eyes, as he also takes after you.

"Alfred?" He says in a low, somewhat childish voice. The two of you turn your heads, letting go of each other's hands as you look at a dark-skinned boy with green eyes, frowning at the two of you.

"Master Damian, it's good to see you," Alfred says, turning to look at the boy named Damian. The boy just stares at you while nodding at Alfred.

"Likewise…"

"Well, we have to say goodbye. It was a pleasure meeting you, miss." You turn to look at Alfred and say a quick "likewise" as he watches her leave with the boy, opening the door for her to get in.

Before he gets in the car, he turns to look at you intently.

"I hope to see you again, miss."

You smile at him while nodding and then watch him leave.

"Hello, aunt." You don't turn to look at your niece while she's by your side. You just look at where the car was and feel like you can smile.

"Auntie?" Your niece seems bewildered as you turn to look at her, smiling.

----------

"What was that?" Damian gets out of the car as he heads for the mansion's door. The entire drive from school to home was silent, perhaps because Damian didn't want to think about what he saw, but now he did want to talk.

"What was that, Master Damian?" Alfred follows behind him.

"Alfred, I'm not a child. I know what I saw." Damian enters the mansion with Alfred to head to the table where the others were waiting for lunch.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Master Damian."

"Alfred…" Damian was interrupted by Dick, who appeared in the living room doorway.

"They're here! How was school?" Dick gives Damian space to enter the living room.

"The ride was as smooth as always."

"Alfred was flirting with a lady at the school entrance," Damian says, interrupting Alfred as he stares at his father, who's choked on the water he's drinking.

"What?" asks Tim, who's across the table, his laptop open.

"Alfred… flirting?" Dick stares into space while holding onto a chair, seemingly unable to process those two words together.

While everyone was silent, a pin could be heard dropping as everyone seemed to process the information.

Suddenly, Jason's snorting laughter was heard, standing next to Tim. He was clutching his stomach as he turned to look at Damian.

"Good joke, dude. Make it more believable next time," Jason said, sighing with laughter.

"This isn't a joke, Jason. I saw with my own eyes how he took her hand and kissed her palm."

"What?!" the three boys said, while Bruce still seemed to be staring at the glass.

Meanwhile, Alfred quietly left the room and headed to the kitchen to serve the food.

--------------

"Come on, Aunt!" Your niece kept wanting you to tell her what happened at the school entrance. The two of you were in the car while you drove to your brother's house.

"I've told you several times, little one, it was nothing," you say, looking at her in the rearview mirror.

"It was nothing? Aunt, you were blushing! You seemed delighted." She smiles as if she'd discovered a huge secret, while you can only manage a small smile.

"Honey, don't exaggerate, it was just a one-time thing… maybe I won't see him again."

"What if it's not just a one-time thing? What if you run into him again? You have to be ready!" Much to your chagrin, it doesn't seem like your niece is going to let the subject go.

"I don't think it will happen."

"But if it does?"

You don't say anything as you park the car in front of your brother's house, then turn to look at your niece.

"Sometimes it's good to dream, honey," you say, taking off your seatbelt.

"In any case, don't say anything to your father. You know how he gets at the thought of me having a partner." Not only have you suffered with your previous relationships, but your brother has become so involved in them that he doesn't find it funny to talk about a future partner.

"Yes, Aunt…" Your niece nods as she gets out of the car, probably remembering how some of your previous partners were such idiots that her father had to intervene.

At least it makes you happy that someone still dreams of something that's best for you.

--------------

"What's she like?" Tim asks as he helps clear the plates from the table. Alfred forbade them from talking about it while they were eating, but now that they'd dug, they could talk as much as they wanted, much to Alfred's dismay.

"Who's who, Master Tim?" Alfred remains unaffected as he continues walking toward the kitchen.

"Oh, come on, Alfred, you don't have to be shy," Dick appears behind Alfred as he follows him into the kitchen.

"Dick's right, you can tell us." Jason is already in the kitchen, watching Alfred and his brothers enter.

"Well, she likes gardening, and she's a seamstress. She's pretty, but she clearly has a good knowledge."

"This is historic! Alfred finally has a conquest!" Dick stands in the doorway, smiling at Damian, who didn't seem happy about any of it.

"What's that supposed to mean, Master Dick?" Alfred raises an eyebrow at Dick, who now seems nervous about what he said.

"Well, that's… I mean… It's not that you can't win anyone over… It's just that…" Dick seems more nervous as he speaks, but luckily Jason seems to take pity on him.

"What the golden boy means is that we've never seen you interested in any woman since we met you… not even Bruce can see that," Jason shrugs as he points to his adoptive father, who is also standing in the kitchen doorway.

Everyone looks at Bruce, who just stands in the doorway, staring at Alfred, confirming what they suspected.

"Alfred… is it safe?" Bruce approaches his sentimental father while he's cleaning the dishes. While everyone (except Tim) sighs when they hear this, Alfred swears he hears a "it was obvious he'd say that," possibly from Jason, as he turns to look at his sentimental son.

"Master Bruce, you guys are acting like I'm getting married without warning. I barely met her today and we haven't even exchanged numbers. I might never see her again."

"That's why we need to investigate thoroughly, just in case you run into each other more than once. Let me…"

"Master Bruce, if I may remind you, I'm the one who checks your dating history. And in this case, the young lady seems to be… exceptionally qualified."

"Did you just call her 'qualified'? That's the hottest thing I've ever heard from your mouth," Dick whispers to Jason, who looks at him with a raised eyebrow in confusion.

Alfred, ignoring them but with an almost imperceptible smile, continues, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to make the tea." Just for me… unless someone else wants to behave and deserve a cup.

Everyone falls silent as Alfred strides out of the room, leaving a silence filled with complicity.

-----------

You walk through the crowd as you head to your favorite coffee shop. It's been two days since you ran into that gentleman, unfortunately, and you haven't been able to meet up with him again.

Your brother couldn't pick up his daughter, so you couldn't use that as an excuse to see him again. Going just to see him seemed inappropriate, considering it can only be a one-time thing.

So there you are, sipping coffee at your favorite coffee shop while you decide to read some poetry. It was better than thinking about your disastrous love life… or lack thereof.

You sigh as you continue reading your book.

without noticing three people entering the shop, heading to the register to order.

"You didn't have to come, Alfred." Tim looks at the menu as he approaches the register.

"It's no bother, Master Tim. Besides, I've seen some good reviews of this place, and it seems perfect to try coffee from outside for once."

"The previous places were a mockery of its name."

"Or maybe you have too high expectations, Damian."

"Because it doesn't meet its objective."

"Not all of them have your taste. You're too critical of those places." As Tim continued speaking, Alfred noticed your presence. You were sitting not far from him. Seeing that the kids were still talking, he decided to leave them for a moment and head over to you.

"If it's not me, then who? People have terrible taste," Damian spoke, not noticing Alfred's absence.

"This isn't going anywhere, Alfred, could you… Alfred?" Tim turned to see where Alfred had gone, seeing that he was heading for a specific table.

"Damian, is it…?"

"Yes, it's her…"

Meanwhile, Alfred stopped at your table.

"Wow, Gotham seems smaller every day," Alfred said softly but loudly. You look up in surprise to find Alfred there, spilling some of your coffee. He quickly offers his handkerchief.

"Mr. Pennyworth, what a… coincidence?" You smile, embarrassed by the small incident.

Before Alfred can figure it out, Tim appears behind Alfred, followed by Damian.

"Oh, hi! Are you that famous purse artist? Alfred keeps telling us about—(Alfred stares, causing Tim to cough.)—"let's say, your… good taste in flowers."

"Drake, that was pathetic."

"And you're…?" You look at Damian, remembering perfectly that he was the guy Alfred picked up from school. You can't quite remember his name, since you weren't thinking clearly at the time.

Damián crosses his arms, staring at you. "The one who checked your background. Clean, for now." That leaves you surprised and speechless.

Alfred quickly intervenes. "Master Damián, please." Alfred turns to look at you, continuing. "Excuse your… enthusiasm."

Before he can answer, Alfred turns to the two boys, resigned. "Teachers, why don't you choose a table? I'll join you in a moment."

Damián looks like he wants to protest, but Tim drags Damián to a distant table, but he doesn't stop looking.

"Is it always like this?" you ask curiously, since you've never experienced that kind of scenario before.

Alfred sighs theatrically, gives them one last look, then turns to you. "Unfortunately, yes. But…" (you see him take out a pencil, then grab a napkin and write) "perhaps a phone number will make up for the embarrassment," he says, handing you the paper.

You accept the napkin more cheerfully and smile at him as he says,

"I'd be delighted, Mr. Pennyworth."

"Just Alfred, please, ma'am." You smile at them, while Tim and Damian don't seem very happy.

----------

I wanted to write more, but I'd like your opinion on whether to continue or not. I'm thinking about this theme: Bruce as a jealous son who doesn't want to give up on his father and who will interrogate you whenever he can; Dick and Jason being the happiest, but also a bit cautious; and, finally, Damian and Tim joining forces to prevent this from going any further, as they don't want to give up on their grandfather.

An example or something that will happen in the next chapter (?):

Will Bruce react with paternalistic protection? ("Alfred, if she makes you happy, fine… but if she hurts you, Batman will come for her.")

Will the Waynes investigate you? (Jason: "I'm going to stalk her to see if she's worthy of Alfie." Dick: "No! Let's do it discreetly!" Tim: "No! We have to hack her.")

Or will Damian be your biggest obstacle? ("Pennyworth is family. I won't let a stranger take him.")

And much more! Literally a lot, a LOT more—well, maybe not that much—a little drama, somewhat unusual situations, etc.

But…

That's up to you. If you like it, I'll obviously continue and turn it into a miniseries, or if I want to continue, I will, but I think the final decision is mostly yours.

Good morning/afternoon/evening.

I don't know much English.

[jmdbjk]

Jimin's exhibit: The Truth Untold, in New York City.

My first glimpse of NYC:

We calculated carefully and figured we had time to spare to get to our 7:30 p.m. reservation at Antoya... but we didn't take into consideration New York traffic from LaGuardia. A trip that should have taken about 30 minutes ate up 2 hours of time but finally, we made our way into Manhattan.

Our hotel was one street over from the Empire State Building and in Koreatown. When we made the hotel reservations, we were unaware of that fact. Thanks, Universe!

We made it to Antoya just in time. I had requested the special table and they acknowledged that but it’s on the third floor which is usually for large parties or special events. In any case they weren’t seating any one on the third floor at the time but they happily chatted about Jimin and Jungkook being finished with their military service while showing us to our table on the second floor. The food was delicious and service was fast and efficient.

Then we hit Koreatown and had a taste of tanghulu, mochi donuts and Tous les Jours, the South Korean cafe chain. Highly recommend the egg tarts (Not pictured).

We shopped at the little shops and at the Korean Market.

The next day we headed to Lower Manhattan and the Financial District.

We were early so we wandered around, got some coffee, looked for bagels but didn't find any.

FINALLY, we entered Jimin's exhibit. We all received our gifts and I promptly confiscated all the photocards.

My traveling companions are not Army but they were very interested in everything in the exhibit so I happily explained what everything was. Any excuse to talk about Jimin, right? Jimin's handwritten notes impressed them (I love his English handwriting). My companions also were impressed with the Set Me Free Pt. 2 MV that played on a wall opposite this one covered in photos of Jimin in one of the small rooms. The photos were huge and amazing. All of them.

The main thing I wanted to see and the whole point of this trip were Jimin's clothes. The fabrics of the suits I touched (yes I know, DO NOT TOUCH! but I did anyway), the fabrics were very fine and supple. I'm assuming wool. The leathers so soft. My traveling companion suggested I sniff the clothes. So I did. She really gets me, you know? They smelled fresh from the dry cleaners and not like Jimin's sweat. Oh well. Jimin probably doesn't stink anyway. Of course he doesn't, what am I even saying? ANYWAY.

I stood next to one of the mannequins standing on the floor and was able to tell that, with shoes on, Jimin would tower over me. Judging the size of the jackets, he is bigger in the body than I thought he'd be. Tall and lanky. And yes, his waist is very small.

I was particularly interested in the leather jacket from the Who MV. I can't believe I saw that with my own eyeballs. And Jimin had it on his body and danced in it. And I touched it...the jacket I mean. Don't tell anybody.

Some other visitors and I were tempted to sit in (mannequin) Jimin's lap here but we abided by the rules.

All of his awards were so cool to see! The MAMA award is a very impressive little trophy. Of course the Billboard award was front and center.

The Hybe staff were lovely. The female staff were stunningly gorgeous women.

It was a small exhibit but I'm so happy I was able to see it. The messages left by Armys in the previous weeks were wonderful to see. We were not able to leave a message. At least I didn't see where we could.

Next up was Times Square. What a hot mess. BUT! I saw the Times Square TSX stage where Jungkook performed and wow it is much closer to the street than I thought it would be. ITS SO CLOSE.

Popped into the Line Friends store: couldn't find anything I wanted. I was disappointed.

We moved on to Rockefeller Center and witnessed a wedding of all things, happening in the middle of everyone out on the plaza. Then we went to the end of the block to St. Patrick's Cathedral where they were just finishing up another wedding while tourists streamed in from off the street. It was weird. But what a beautiful church.

The next day was The Museum of Natural History and then into Central Park. The Museum of Natural History has great bones. Ha. Lots of them. Lots and lots and lots. Bones everywhere. Yes, this is the same museum in the movie Night at the Museum. All the critters were in their displays waiting for night time.

The day was getting kinda hot for a stroll through Central Park but we did it anyway because damn, I'm not going all the way to NYC and not go to Central Park.

From one end to the other, we exited Central Park and headed to the Tiffany Landmark store a few blocks away.

The 20-story high stack of Louis Vuitton trunks was surprising:

The Tiffany Landmark store was gorgeous and the people there were so incredibly nice. And ugh, yes, that is a Tiffany's box in that pic with Jimin's photocards. Yes, I splurged. The HardWear collection micro link bracelet jumped out at me from the glass case and begged me to take it home. So I did. Willpower. What's that?

That wasn't on my bingo card but here we are. I will cherish it forever.

Things we ate other than the aforementioned Korean food and snacks: Joe's Pizza. Liberty Bagels. Dim sum. The hoity-toity-est meal we had was lunch at the Museum of Nat History. Go figure. I had a tuna sandwich (not made with canned tuna) and a purple flower lemonade. Fan-cehhh. (that's smartass for fancy).

Other things we saw: Ground Zero. Incidentally, Spotify's offices are right there. We saw the Statue of Liberty from Battery Park and the Brooklyn Bridge when we headed back to our hotel. I have so many more photos of Jimin's exhibit and the trip overall but only so many photos are allowed in a post here on Tumblr.

Things we did not get to see: Grand Central Station. The inside of Macy's Herald Square even though we stayed right across the street from it. We had important business.... SORRY. We didn't see the charging bull statue at the New York Stock Exchange either. We couldn't find the thing.

But the numbers were numbering for this trip: Level 7 was where I parked my car at the airport. Row 7 was my seat on the plane. Our rooms were on the 13th floor at the hotel. Sadly, I did not get room 1310. I don't think there were that many rooms on the floor anyway. But I could have had 1306! Oh well.

Other takeaways from this trip: Taxi drivers and NYC traffic is no joke. I recommend Uber all the way. You can even get the same taxi you hail off the street for half the cost through Uber. We ventured down to the subway but it is too complicated and risky for noob first-timers especially when you have to be somewhere on time. But if you are there for a length of time it would be well worth learning how to use it because it's less than $3 USD per ride.

Uber Eats was quick and convenient. We were very tired Saturday evening and our Joe's Pizza arrived in 15 minutes after ordering. I don't know how they did that so quickly.

And then it was time to head home on my airplane, airplane....everyday above the clouds.... are those otters!?

No! It's a squirrel!

Or is it Koya?

I was never good at cloud shapes. I think I see Shooky back there...and RJ...definitely it's RJ...

[sumplys]

bordersz — a. donaldson

Just like the ocean, you change what I see.

You find yourself falling deeper in love with Art Donaldson, a daisy-fresh Formula 1 world champion.

warnings: x reader, art x patrick implied. [0.7k words]

main masterlist

Art pressed the arch of his foot into the accelerator, wrists straining as he fought the over-steer.

He slammed a fist into the steering wheel, triggering his onboard radio, "Fuck this guy! Tell Zweig to fuck off of my rear wing!”

A car dressed in an identical navy blue drove Art towards track limits, forcing him to swerve back into place.

"Copy," his race engineer replied, unamused by his temper.

You pressed your dress against your thighs, running your smooth skin over the pattered linen, as you watched Art's onboard camera tremble.

Art Donaldson had proved himself as a fierce competitor on track. After over three dozen podiums and sixteen race wins over the span of his career, this season he was closer to a championship than he had ever been.

You knew how badly he wanted it—his whole world revolved around the glory. You watched his cerulean eyes sparkle after every race, every point gained. To him, it was all a step towards his destiny; a destiny that had been placed upon him from the very moment his hands wrapped around the curve of a steering wheel.

Your fingertips grazed the worn edges of his childhood portraits, each one a photo of blonde and beaming Art with a shiny racing helmet.

It was the kind of incandescent craving that—if unchecked—could burn you both alive.

Patrick Zweig was his only notable opponent. With a similar cocky attitude, Zweig had accumulated two world championships— with Donaldson being the runner-up each time.

The competition between them was problematic. Art's hotheaded deportment and Patrick's arrogant philosophy bred quandary, and everyone knew it.

Journalists often complained of the unbridled tensions between the drivers; the complexities of their relationship becoming one of the sport's greatest spectacles.

The boys had grown up together in hotels away from their parents. Everything that they knew they had learned simultaneously; swimming in Palmariggi, table manners in Sakhir, jerking off in Hasselt.

You knew he missed Patrick, though he would never bring himself to admit it.

Under the veil of passion in which he kept himself, you knew a sensitive man with an aching desperation to be great.

He edged himself past the chequered flag, an exasperated exhale escaping through his gritted teeth.

Your hands shook as you pressed your headphones further against your skull, the weight of his accomplishment seeping through your race tanned skin.

Art eased himself out of the mould of his car, hands shaking as he lept towards his team members.

He stumbled from his car, dropping his helmeted head into his hands as he knelt before his car, kissing the number that splayed over the livery.

Journalists gathered around him as he peeled his gloves off of his fair fingers.

"Donaldson, do you have anything to say about the car today?"

You were pressed between team members— engineers, managers, fans—leaning over shoulders to read your boyfriend's lips.

“Obviously, I’m pleased. It means a lot to me to finally win a title. It’s every racer’s dream, and with a race as close as this, it was special to say the least.”

His gaze fell over the crowd, excited hands moving up the barrier as his eyes met yours.

“Thank you—excuse me,” he waved, eliciting a deep roar from the grandstands.

Formula One’s golden world champion.

His dark helmet was a stark contrast against his flaxen hair, his golden curls peeking out beneath his visor.

"You did it," you whispered tenderly, your voice hardly audible over the rowdy crowd.

His fingers found the dips in the carbon fibre to pull his helmet over his head.

His blonde tresses were messy and glistening with dampness as sweat clung to each strand.

"Baby..." he murmured, falling into the curve of your shoulder.

"Good job, baby," you cooed, and Art nearly choked on his exhale.

Calloused fingertips found the slope of your jaw as he forced your gaze to meet his.

His cheeks were stained pink from the firm pressure of the foam lining his helmet, and you couldn't help but get lost in the romance of it all.

There was something so tender, to you, about you seeing your winner—your champion—so disheveled and doe-eyed.

His lips parted, his hands finding the stretch of skin that your backless dress left accessible, and he eased forward to kiss you.

A vehement hunger ate at you as his mouth grew eager and sloppy against yours. The classiness of it all was beneath you, apparently, as you forgot the swarming crowd.

An exaggerated sigh fell from his mouth, “Fuck, I love you.”

[coffee-mage-sans-caffeine]

Reblogged from @grison-in-space for this tag:

For anyone who doesn't agree with the OP, let me introduce you to Benton.

Benton was obtained from rescue as a 9 week old puppy with the belief that he was most likely a Texas Heeler, which is a working mix consisting usually of border or smooth collie and Australian Cattledog. It was the pandemic. I had great dreams of finally having the time to train my Ultimate Sport Dog and service dog prospect. I was so excited. Now a bit of background: I am not an inexperienced trainer. I used to work professionally as a dog trainer. My specialization wasn't actually obedience or sport, however, it was aggressive/reactive dog rehabilitation. I had worked my ass off and I was a damn good dog trainer, but when I moved countries, it was way too much work to try and build a new customer base so I went back to school and became a nurse instead. What you need to know is that I was a damn good dog trainer and I have a lot of experience. I brought home this little ball of joy and started working with him. We started small--even with the pandemic I made sure he got his puppy socialization and level one group obedience classes. I took him literally everywhere I could with me. I would call liquor stores at the height of the pandemic and see if they were open to letting my dog come train in their store because there's hardly anyone in a liquor store at 10 am on a Tuesday. I had all the time in the world and I would spend at least two hours a day on training exercises when he was small, broken up into tiny pieces throughout the day. He learned the basics quickly enough. Sit? His autosit is near-perfect to the point that when I take him to (dog friendly) places, everyone assumes he's a service dog and keeps their own dogs away from him even without a harness or anything. Down? Check. Leave it? Hell yeah. The problem was his base temperament. Puppies go through fear stages. One day they're brave, then suddenly they're afraid of everyone and everything around them. Their first is at around 8-14 weeks. Their second is usually the most challenging and happens between 6 months and 14 months. Some have a third one around 18 months or when they hit maturity. Benton never went OUT of his fear stage. Every day of his life was a fear stage from 9 weeks until he was over 2 years old. And I worked hard on this. He ate over a litre jar of treats and kibble every single day for nearly the first two years of his life JUST on desensitization training. He was afraid of everything that flapped, everything that moved suddenly, everything that was in a new location from where it had been yesterday. Our walks around the block were sometimes an hour or two long as I did look-mark-treat exercises for everything in the neighbourhood. This work had to take extreme precedence over trick training or sport training because his temperament was so risky I was afraid if I didn't work my ass off, I'd end up with the most reactive dog imaginable. He washed out of service work, obviously, but I continued to pursue dog sport. When he was 18 months old, we started taking agility foundations classes together. This is a pre-agility safety course at our local agility school. It usually takes 6-9 months to graduate. Dogs must learn to walk backwards on command, to step up with their back feet, to keep their back paws on an elevated board even if their handler walks past them, among other things. In working so hard to get Benton through his VERY prolonged fear stage, he became a velcro dog. He wants to be within 6 inches of a human at all times. He responds to any pressure by sitting down and looking bereft, which means that teaching him to go backwards on command took 8 months ALONE even though I had watched him walk backwards up stairs before. As a result, it has taken us 3 years to complete a 6 month safety course. His trainer has 35 years' experience teaching THIS COURSE and it still takes 3-6 months to develop a new way to teach him each exercise. Benton is a dream to live with. He's my best friend and I love him. But he is nearly impossible to train.

man it´s so easy to talk shit about how other people "don´t train their dogs" if you never worked with a hard to train dog

[thebroccolination]

THEORY TIME WITH DETECTIVE KEY!!!

Okay, so. Potential spoilers for "The Ex-Morning," so proceed with caution, oui?

We're finding out in episode seven why Tam left, so!

TIME TO SPECULATE BEFORE WE GET TOLD!!!

First things first, they've got the same outfits in these two scenes:

So it's the same day, just different times of day. I'm gonna guess that since Phi sounds like he's on the verge of crying when he says, "I know why you left me that day," the top image is the scene where he and Tam finally talk about it. He certainly looks the appropriate level of distressed and traumatized.

The bottom image is likely later that same day, and Phi's clearly come to terms with whatever it is, enough that he's not angry with Tam. The whole vibe of that kiss seems fairly composed, so I imagine they're on more even footing by then.

And I mean, even in the top image, Phi's crying, but he's also hugging Tam pretty tightly while Tam strokes his hair, so….

Obviously there's no excusing how he left, but I've been banking on the reason being a mix of external and internal from the beginning.

'Cos here's the thing: I'm pretty sure there was some kind of threat behind it.

The series literally began with Phi and Tam investigating illegal activity as students with Phi talking on camera about how this local drug business could be connected to a member of government. They made this video for a competition, so I doubt their footage was ever made public, but they did get multiple people arrested, so it probably made the news news. The actual news.

And in the trailer, we have Phi saying, "Sorry for putting you through all this."

That, to me, seems like he could be apologizing in general: if he hadn't blown up at Tae, Tam wouldn't have come back, and maybe if they hadn't been so clumsy about their first major investigation together, whatever theoretically happened to make Tam leave wouldn't have happened, either.

I think Yong knows, and I think Paul found out through him.

And I think Paul told Phi.

I actually suspected Tam wouldn't be the one to tell Phi in the end. It seems like he's struggled with open communication all along, but also:

If the reason he left was that the award that landed Phi his job also endangered them, I can see Tam not wanting to tell Phi that it was technically his own fault in the midst of Phi trying to rebuild his career - a career he only got because he broke down crying during an interview after Tam broke up with him.

Then I can see why he's reluctant to tell Phi. If it's also Phi's fault, he doesn't want to kick him when he's down.

Like, "Okay, so not only was your career breakthrough ruined by my leaving, I'm also going to ruin one of your happiest memories by telling you the thing we won an award for also ended up fucking up everything."

It's also super possible that if this theory is true, then Tam doesn't blame Phi at all. After all, they were a team, and Tam did the research side of things. He might entirely blame himself.

Anyway, I think that's what that scene with Paul is: telling Phi the reason why Tam left because it's urgent enough that Paul feels okay with going over Tam's head.

Like, Yong definitely knows. There's this shot of a flashback scene from the behind-the-scenes special of Tam going in to talk to Yong, and he's

Same outfit from the flashback that starts episode 3 in which Phi gets the interview he'll fall apart doing because of Tam's breakup text.

Interestingly, we also get these flashback shots of Yong presumably back when he and Gaogie were dating/engaged:

So we might find out some stuff about him too.

Still many missing pieces, but I'm delighted with this week's episode. Went in a total curveball that made me go, "Ooooh," as a writer because it's not the direction I would have gone, but it's also really good. I would've been a little sad if they only got together at the very end, and I like that Phi took that leap of faith.

Time to rewatch again byeeee!

[rose-gold-chains]

Pairing: IIIxIV

Word count: 5443

[WARNINGS: unprotected sex, light bdsm practices, degradation, orgasm control/denial, edging, overstimulation]

18+ content - minors, do not interact.

As usual, feedback is welcome and very much appreciated. Be kind, though!

Iii is in a foul mood and IV loves it.

He doesn’t know what happened to bring on such a sudden shift, but he knows what it means for him: mean, demanding, controlling III. And he’s not one to complain.

All he knows it’s the pattern is always the same, and sooner or later, III will drag him into a secluded room and tear him to pieces slowly, painstakingly. All he can do is wait.

It’s almost methodical, the way he does it. He takes all his anger, and frustration, and anxiety and channels them into being the most dominant he can be.

It takes two hours, twenty three minutes and about eight seconds.

But who’s counting?

“You,” there’s a long, bony finger pointed at him, “go to my room.”

His blue eyes are dark and serious as they stare back at IV, unmoving, stern, and his voice is deep, accent thick with simmering anger, “I expect to see you undressed and kneeling when I come back. Understood?”

“Understood, sir.”

“Good.”

•

All IV can hear as he slowly undresses himself is the ticking of the wall clock hanging right above the bed, and the white background noise of the cars driving some floors below seeping through the half-opened window.

It’s kind of soothing, in a twisted way.

The anticipation is killing him as he sinks to his knees on the soft mattress, naked skin brushing the fancy silk sheets III insisted on buying in all the colours of the rainbow, hairs all over his body standing straight with excitement.

His cock is already half hard, blood rushing south at lightning speed as he imagines everything III will put him through - but when the door opens and shuts, all the coherent thoughts fly out of the fucking window: III looks like an absolute vision. He’s wearing all black - form fitting t-shirt and loose track pants hanging low on his skinny hips, and he’s towering over the bed like a predator ready to pounce on its prey.

“I haven’t even stepped into the room and you’ve already made three mistakes. Can you tell me what they are?”

IV must look like a complete idiot, because as much as he racks his brain for answers, he still comes up blank, and all he can do is look lost and shake his head.

“Think fast, bitch, because ‘I don’t know’ is not an option, and every wrong answer will grant you ten spanks.”

“I— didn’t fold my clothes properly?”

“Mh. You did four things wrong, then.”

Fuck.

“I,” he breathes, thinks, rinse and repeat. Nothing.

“What? Are you too dumb to form words or are you just trying to piss me off?”

“I— genuinely can’t think of anything, Sir,” his voice sounds alien to his own ears, small and vulnerable, “I’m sorry.”

“Fine, I’ll give you the answer. But that means you’ll get the paddle instead of my hand. And you’re getting spanked however many times I see fit, considering you’re too much of a dumb slut to know what’s best.”

From the outside looking in, a person who’s not familiar with their dynamics will think that III is some sort of evil monster taking advantage of poor little sunshine IV.

Fact of the matter is, though, IV is enjoying every single second, revelling in the attention and the dominance; he loves being told what to do, how to act. Adores being punished - or rewarded.

He can get out of his own head and just feel: every hit of the paddle, every smack of a hand on his skin or pull of his hair takes him one step closer to the special place in the back of his head that has him floating on pure pleasure and adrenaline, and he can’t fucking wait to get there.

“Number one: I told you to kneel, I didn’t tell you to kneel on the bed. Number two: I didn’t tell you you could get hard,” he gestures at IV’s dick with disdain, eyes rolling slightly, “number three: i didn’t give you permission to look at me when I came into the room. Now get down from there, I want you face down, ass up on the carpet.”

As much as he enjoys pain, IV is not a big fan of carpet burn.

He can either disobey and face III’s wrath -fun, painful, ultimately rewarding - or obey  - and still be punished, of course, since he did make three, no, four mistakes - but avoid provoking III further, since he’s already in a pissy mood. Choices, choices. 

As much as he loves instigating III, a big part of IV lives for the moment when his volatile partner praises him for being good. And he’ll get his punishment in any case - the way his cock twitches and hardens even more guarantees it - so. Rug burn it is. 

He can feel him walking around the room, can feel the eyes on his naked skin, burning patterns into it with his mind.

The click of the closet door opening sends a shiver down IV’s spine, a tingle of anticipation bubbling in every nerve ending on his body- he knows the paddle is in there, together with a plethora of other devices made especially for him.

He doesn’t hear rummaging, though- the door clicks shut in record time: which means the paddle was ready all along, that he was gonna get paddled either way, no matter how pristine his obedience was. It means III had a plan all along.

“Can you count, or do I have to do that, too?”

IV shifts in his spot a bit, feels the carpet dig into his shins and his knees, “I can count, Sir.”

“Good,” smack, “go on then, I don’t have all day!”

“One, Sir. Thank you.”

They land everywhere: from the round part of his bum to the lowest part of his thighs, the hits rain on him like blessed water mixed with the flames of hell.

His eyes water more and more with each one, and his body doesn’t know if it wants to move away from the pain or towards it, stuck in a loop of pleasure and pain that’s washing over his senses like tidal waves.

His dick twitches at every strike, hangs heavy and swollen in between his legs, leaking, begging for a shred of attention, yearning for some sweet, sweet crumb of friction.

“T— twenty five.”

The sound of the paddle clanking on the floor tells him it’s over, but he wouldn’t dare moving until told.

“You’re not as dumb as you look, then. Get on your knees.”

His arms are shaking as he attempts to raise himself from the ground, and he almost eats a handful of carpet when his right hand slips and loses grip, but he manages.

“Face this way, slut, I have no use for you looking the other way.”

Shimmying his way around is no easy feat, especially since his knees are scraped pretty badly from rubbing against the carpet during his paddling, and every movement sends a jolt of pain through his nerves. He’s pretty sure one of them is bleeding, a tiny dot of crimson leaving its mark on the pristine white fibres.

III takes a long, calculated glance at him, eyes sparkling with mischief. He looks like a giant standing there while IV is kneeling: his impossibly tall and slender body adorned in all black is an imposing presence, ominous almost, towering over IV’s figure with ease. The light hairs of his happy trail glisten with a veil of sweat and it’s mouth watering, hypnotic.

God, IV is so obsessed with this beautiful man.

“Hands behind your back.”

He removes his hands from where they’re hiding his very obvious erection and puts them where instructed, “yes, Sir.”

“Still hard, I see,” his voice is tinged with something IV can’t quite put his finger on: his wishful thinking says it sounds like awe, his rational mind quips that it’s most likely annoyance, “you’re so desperate that not even twenty five strikes will get your dick to go down? Fucking pathetic.”

He blushes a deep shade of red as his dick throbs at the humiliation.

“If you’re so hungry for it,” III spits, as he lowers his pants just enough to get his half hard dick out, “then have at it. And make it worth my time.”

He scoots his way over to him, barely resisting the urge to flinch every time his scraped knees glide on the carpet, and puts his whole nose into the sparse hairs at the base of III’s cock, taking in the smell of detergent and arousal, letting it invade his senses and put his mind at peace.

“Less sniffing, more sucking,” he pushes his hips forward once to drive the point home, “you’re a bitch, but you’re not a fucking dog.”

The weight of III’s cock on his tongue is familiar, yet every time feels like the first: his reactions to getting head are dependent on his mood, on IV’s behaviour, on a myriad of other variables that make the experience surprising in its familiarity.

IV puts his soul into it, sucks cock like he’s paid to do so.

Apparently though, today his passion, enthusiasm and effort are not enough: the moments he puts his right hand at the base of III’s length -just so he can give attention to what doesn’t fit in his mouth- is the moment III steps back completely.

“I told you hands behind your back. I can’t fathom how is it so hard to fucking listen?”

He walks to the closet again, and this time the noise of objects rattling against each other is almost jarring in the deep silence of the room.

He comes back moments later with a pair of— pink plush handcuffs?

“I— Sir?”

“What now?”

“Are those—?”

He would usually go with rope, if he’s feeling frisky. Or tape.

Zip ties occasionally, and if he’s in a sweet mood, probably silk.

But pink plushy handcuffs are a first - and IV can’t for the life of him figure out where the fuck they came from. Or better yet, he knows where they came from: his fucking browser history.

He’s always had delicate skin, and he doesn’t mind the marks on his body - truly doesn’t. But his wrists always hurt for days after, insistent red welts blossoming on his wrists every time he ends up bound or tied, and sometimes he finds himself browsing for something sturdy yet soft, something that will keep him in line without the added strain on his already damaged skin.

He just never thought—

“I— don’t know what to say.”

“Thank you will do, I believe.”

His voice is still stern, but there’s a hint of affection in his tone that he can’t mask or hide.

“Thank you, Sir,” look at him, tearing up at the sight plushy handcuffs like a degenerate fucking idiot, “thank you so, so much.”

When they click in place on his wrists, the soft material is a stark contrast to what he’s used to: they’re firm, the sharp tug he gives them confirms it, but they don’t hurt, they won’t leave angry marks.

No matter how mean III acts, how punitive and cruel his actions look from the outside looking in, IV knows he’s cherished.

III taps his jaw once with his index finger, and the warmth of his skin against his shakes IV out of his thoughts, “open wide.”

It’s all the warning he gets before III’s cock is shoved so far down his throat he almost chokes on it.

Every sharp snap of III’s hips threatens his precarious balance, and all he can do is focus on breathing through his nose and engaging his core muscles so he doesn’t topple over on his ass and make a fool of himself.

Just when it was getting good - IV had found a rhythm with his tongue that allowed him to give iii pleasure without choking, and III had started making these gorgeous, choked half-moans every time the tip of his cock hit the tender back of IV’s throat - III stops.

And IV can’t help but make a slight noise of complaint.

“Shut the fuck up, Jesus,” his voice is fucked like he’d been the one taking a dick down his throat instead of giving it, “get on the bed.”

Getting up is no easy feat, especially with his hands locked behind him and throwing off his balance, but the promise of something more gives him the strength to obey as quickly as his body would allow.

“Ass up, I’m tired of looking at your pathetic face.”

•

“I’ve opened myself up already, Sir.”

“Playing with your sorry hole like a slut doesn’t mean you’re ready for me.”

As much as IV would love nothing more than being fucked into oblivion sooner rather than later, he knows proper prep is a non negotiable for III: no matter how mean he’s being, he’ll always make sure there’s plenty of lube and plenty of time spent on it.

It doesn’t matter if they fucked the day before and IV feels still loose enough; or if he tells him he’s prepped himself beforehand, III will always, always double check.

Rationally, he knows it’s a good thing.

But the desperate, horny, greedy, impatient part of his brain still sometimes registers it as a nuisance - but he still sags against the sheets, props his ass up high, and waits.

“God,” III whispers as the first finger breaches IV’s hole, “you were made to be fucked, weren’t you?”

IV is glad he’s not facing him, because he’s pretty sure III would start giving him shit for how much he’s blushing at the makeshift compliment, warmth spreading from his face all the way down his chest like wildfire, unforgiving and unstoppable.

“Look at this,” he speaks like he’s talking mostly to himself, voice quiet, no longer as commanding as it was before, “your hole is so hungry for it, for me,” he pushes a second finger in, the slide made easy by copious amounts of lube and the fact that - as much as III doesn’t want to believe it - IV had actually already opened himself up as he said, “isn’t it?”

“Only for you, Sir.”

Two fingers soon become three, pumping in and out of him at a leisurely pace like they have all the time in the universe, and IV wishes III didn’t know his body as well as he does because he’s purposefully avoiding that sweet, sweet spot inside him that makes him see stars: this is methodical, a means to an end, and the end goal is apparently not IV’s pleasure.

He's still impossibly hard though, knees spread wide and cock hanging heavy between his thighs - he’s pretty sure he’s been consistently leaking since the fucking handcuffs clocked shut on his wrists, mind getting fuzzy at the edges, body feeling light like a feather and heavy like a block of lead at the same time.

The moment III’s fingers slide out of him leaves him and get replaced by his cock leaves him gasping for air like a fish out of water, mouth agape and desert dry, “o-oh fuck.”

The rhythm is ruthless from the get-go, every thrust as punishing and fast as the previous one, and each aimed at that perfect angle that makes him feel as if his sanity is about to slip away from his grasp any moment.

IV feels like he’s hanging on by a thread as moans and groans are ripped out of him every time III’s cock slams back inside.

The noises III is making are not helping his predicament: he grunts with every thrust, moans every single time he pulls far enough away that the head of his cock catches on IV’s rim just to slide back inside with ease, then grinds against him like a feral beast in heat, pushing as deep as he can go and brushing all the right places - it’s maddening for both of them, animalistic and primal and so, so fucking dirty.

IV is aware he’s sweaty all over, skin so damp he feels like he’s gonna slide off the stupid silk sheets any minute now but he can’t stop writhing, twitching, moaning - hell, he’d probably pull his fucking hair out if his hands weren’t bound behind him.

He would be grossed out by himself if he weren’t so fucking close, tethering dangerously over the edge of the precipice and so fucking ready to fall over and let the void take over his senses.

His mind is foggy at best and incoherent at worst, and all he can think is pain pain pain pleasure pleasure pleasure, with the way his ass and thighs burn so good every time III’s hips slap against his abused skin, new redness forming over top of the purple spots that were already there, and his burnt knees catching in the folds of the fabric with every forceful thrust.

He’s only vaguely aware of III saying things to him as he fucks him from behind, random words making their way into his muddled mess of a brain, things like “brat” and “slut” and “baby” spoken directly against his ear as III keeps a firm hold on his hair, bending his back in positions that any sane person with functioning eyes would probably deem impossible to achieve.

“I’m gonna come,” he’s not aware he’s spoken until it has happened, and he’s only sure it was him because he’s gone, but not gone enough that he can’t recognise his own voice, thank you very much.

III has him trained so well that he wouldn’t dare come without permission in any circumstance, no matter how taxing.

“No, you’re not.”

He realises he’s crying only because his tears feel salty in his mouth.

That’s all it takes to pull him under.

He can vaguely register himself talking.

It feels as if someone else outside of his body is stealing his voice, speaking for him like a ventriloquist’s puppet, and it’s nothing but a mantra of “please, please, please,” and “need to come, want to come, let me come”.

It’s embarrassing, it’s desperate, it’s his brain losing all filter as reality quickly slips from his grasp.

The moment III’s buries himself balls deep inside him feels like coming home, like IV is floating on a cloud of sugar dust and rainbows and morning dew: the warmth spreads through him as his insides are painted white, and suddenly the urge of coming is overcome by the overwhelming pride of being good.

He managed not to break the rules, he made his Sir come like he’s supposed to, he’s done what his body was carved out for, all those years ago: pleasuring III and nothing else.

•

“Baby,” his eyes feel sticky and gross as he tries to pry them open, “hey? You with me?”

I’m good, he wants to say, but his throat is tight and rough - he nods as best as he can, head feeling too heavy on his weak neck, and attempts a smile that doesn’t come as easily as he would like it to.

There’s delicate fingers carding through his hair and a big hand holding on to his cheek, stroking gently in comforting patterns, lulling him into a sense of safety and home, “you were so good for me, angel. So, so good.”

“Sir,” is what he manages to say as he attempts to find his voice, pain shooting through his throat at every noise, “t-thank you.”

A tall glass of water gets pushed to his lips and he drinks and drinks and drinks until it’s all gone, drops falling from the corners of his mouth and onto his chest, sending shivers down his spine as his overstimulated body registers yet another sensation.

He’s sitting up, he realises.

There are no cuffs on his wrists.

And III is looking at him like he hung the fucking moon- so. That’s something.

The next thing he notices as his body starts making peace with his brain, is that his ass hurts like a motherfucker: he’s probably all bruised up, pinks and purples and reds creating sunsets on the fair skin of his butt and thighs. His hole is also leaking from the remains of III’s load, making a wet, uncomfortable patch under his abused ass.

The third thing he notices is that, despite being sore and battered, despite having blacked out for god knows how long, he’s still rock hard.

“Ngh,” he’s still not capable of forming coherent words, apparently, but III’s attention is on him in a split second despite his muffled noises.

“What’s wrong, angel?”

“…please.”

The smirk that spreads on III’s face is devious, “I don’t understand what you’re begging for, baby. You’re gonna have to be more clear.”

If IV had the strength, or the mental capacity to lift himself up, he would slap the shit out of that smug face.

As of now, though, he can barely keep his head upright.

“Sir, please, I need—”

He stops himself, hyperaware that he needs to play his cards just right if he wants even the slightest chance of going to sleep without blue balls.

“Go on, don’t be so bashful,” he chuckles to himself and it sounds almost devilish, “if you want it so bad, then you should be able to ask for it.”

“Can I come? I’m still hard. Please, sir. It hurts.”

“I thought you liked pain, no? Thought you enjoyed being my little pain whore.”

If III is not budging, then its time for the heavy artillery. It’s only fair.

“Please, daddy.”

*

IV isn’t sorry about the “daddy” thing. It was a cheap shot and he knew using the D word after III had already come would have been dangerous, but as much as he loves pain and edging, death by blue balls isn’t on his “favourite ways to die” list.

That said, what III is doing now feels more like retaliation than release. One hand on his throat, firm orders not to touch himself, and two long thick fingers curled in his ass, and a few minutes that felt an eternity later iv feels like crying.

He must have been, because III tuts, patronizing and merciless. “Poor baby” he says, and if IV wasn’t crying before, the mocking tone he’s using would for sure bring on the waterworks, “so, so sad.”

He isn’t sad, he’s so horny even his dick is crying, as III can very well see, but the guy is really being a bastard this evening. Not that IV could verbalize that.

He moans brokenly and tries to rock his hips against III’s hand, and all he gets is a swift slap for his trouble. And the pressure on his prostate never lets up, multitasking king that III was.

Cheek smarting, IV squeezes his eyes. “Be good” he hears over the sound of his shallow breaths, as III wraps his hand on his throat once again. He’s not actually choking him, it’s more a warning, orders to behave, so of course he skirts the line and bears down even more on iii’s fingers in his ass.

IV hears the smirk in his voice and god, he has no intention of opening his eyes and looking at III’s face. Not now, not while he’s nearly sobbing, body on fire, dick weeping on his belly. The sight of III’s malicious expression could do him in. So he just begs, like a prayer in the darkness behind his closed eyelids. “Sir, please, daddy, I just need to...”

“I’m giving you what you want, and you’re still whining. Maybe I should just leave you manacled to the bed and let you sleep it off.”

“Nononono. Please please please...”

The squelching sound is disgusting and hot, a mixture of sweat and lube and cum making IIi’s fingers slide in and out of him without resistance.

The fact that he can read IV’s body like a children’s book is clear from the fact that every single time he’s about to come, the pressure on his prostate relents just enough to bring him away from the precipice, only to start all over again.

And again.

And again.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy,” the word falls from his lips like a prayer, like a broken record - that’s all his brain can process, all that’s left in his muddled thoughts.

It’s “I’m begging” and “thank you” and “I love you” all wrapped up in a neat bow of desperation, body and mind overwhelmed by the sensations as he fights to stay present, fights to stay anchored to reality as his last slivers of sanity threaten to leave him once more.

It’s an eternity - and a million lost orgasms - later when the words he’d been begging to hear finally leave III’s mouth, “go on then, come for me.”

They sound like an hallucination, a figment of his imagination, far away and muffled, but still his body obeys on the spot, back arching as he spills all over himself like a trained puppet.

III milks him through it, doesn’t stop even when IV’s body feels like he has nothing left to give.

He feels as if a fire has been ignited from the inside out, burning bright hot as pleasure washes through him and mixes with pain and renders him unable to do anything but lie there and take it.

“Again.”

He’s begging for the opposite reasons now: he’s over sensitive and sore and he needs it to stop, needs this to be finally over.

“Please I can’t— I— Sir!”

“You begged like a bitch to be able to come, now what?” the hand on his throat squeezes just enough to drive the point home, “Can’t take what you asked for?”

He’s sagging in the sheets and they’re all bunched up now, wet and sticky and gross - it looks like a scene from the most low budget porn movie, the way the silk glistens with with lube and fluids in the low light of the bedside lamp.

Despite his prayers to stop though, IV’s cock never went down, and he can feel the tell-tale signs of another orgasm approaching, heat spreading through his gut and his groin as his body, taut like a guitar string, snaps once again.

He sobs through it, tears spilling freely from his eyes as his dick twitches and throbs with his second orgasm of the night, wetness pooling on his belly on top of the mess that was already there.

When two orgasms become three, though, there’s not much left to it: it’s almost dry, nothing but a few drops sliding pathetically down his spent, reddened cock.

“One more.”

He can’t do it. He can’t.

He wants to be good, wants to obey, but he doesn’t have it in him, he’s too spent to even think about coming again. His balls hurt, his cock is sore, his hole is now so swollen and achy that he will most definitely have trouble walking without a limp tomorrow.

“Please sir I can’t- I— daddy. I can’t.”

“You can.”

“No, no, please. No more!”

“Then use your safe word and this stops immediately. Until then, you’ll give me one more.”

Avocado.

It’s on the tip of his tongue.

He could say it and the abuse on his poor hole would be over, he would receive his much needed aftercare and probably a bubble bath with the strawberry body wash he loves so much, the one that’s so bubbly that almost feel like it’s gonna spill out from the tub and smother the bathroom in a foamy inferno of bubbles and doom.

But III says he can, and he wouldn’t say it if he didn’t think it, would he?

“I— really don’t think I can.”

“Safeword,” he curls his fingers again with force, pushing against IV’s prostate like he’s trying to punish him for complaining, “or shut the fuck up.”

He debates in his mind the best course of action, but he keeps getting lost, losing his train of thought, losing his fucking mind.

“Avocado.”

And just like that, the fingers that were inside him slide oh so carefully out, and the hand on his neck is removed in favour of caressing his cheek.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, don’t be mad,” he’s crying again, he probably never stopped, and his voice is small and frantic, “I really couldn’t do another one, I’m sorry.”

“Baby, hey,” it’s impossible to think that this is the same person that mere minutes ago was calling him a slut, voice sugary sweet as he addresses IV, “never apologise for having to use your safeword. Never apologise for setting boundaries, do you hear me?”

“But— I let you down. You thought I could do it a-and I couldn’t.”

The words are barely comprehensible, with all the sobs shaking his whole body.

“You didn’t let me down one bit,” his eyes are deep and sincere and so fucking blue, “I love that you give yourself to me so freely, that you trust me so deeply. You did so well.”

••

He’s laying in the bathtub, warm water and bubbles all around him and III perched on the edge behind him, carefully massaging coconut and vanilla shampoo in his hair, when the realisation hits: he is in love with this beautiful, beautiful man.

He also realises that the thought made its way into his mind once already during the night, as he was being tortured with orgasm upon orgasm: in the mess that was his brain, fuzzy and overstimulated and lost, the thing that kept him anchored to his sanity was that he’s in love, and he’s pretty sure it’s mutual. So.

Something to think about.

“You’re awfully quiet there, love,” III’s voice is like a soothing balm on his soul, a salve to ease all troubles and pains, “something on your mind?”

“Jus’ tired, that’s all.”

IV is an awful liar, the way his voice tilts upward at the end of his sentence gives away the fact that he’s not being completely honest, but if III noticed, he doesn’t push further.

“Alright,” there’s a last splash of water to the back of his head, probably to make sure all of the shampoo suds have been rinsed away, “shall we get some lotion on that cute butt? Then we can get some food in your precious belly. How’s that sound?”

“I’m in love with you.”

The words are out of his mouth before he can process that he’s speaking, and the way he shuts his mouth is testament enough to the fact that he did not mean to say it out loud, not while he’s wet and naked and still partly out of it.

Fuck.

And III isn’t replying.

Why isn’t he replying?!

“I—I’m sorry. It just— came out. I didn’t mean to make it weird or-”

He stands up as fast as he can as the last of the water runs down the drain, frantically trying to turn around without smashing his face on the wet, slippery tile of the bathroom.

He needs to look III in the face, needs to understand why he’s not saying anything.

III is still there, perched on the edge of the fucking bathtub, trousers wet from bathing IV with all the care in the world and IV finds himself thinking he looks absolutely glorious even while he’s rejecting him.

He’s down bad.

“Say something?” the fact that he’s on the verge of tears is evident in his shaky voice, the knot in his throat making it hard to speak properly, “III?”

And III is… smiling?

That’s good, right? It has to be good. IV needs for it to be good.

Or maybe he’s laughing at how pathetic he is, falling in love with his best friend who he sometimes hooks up with, after being fucked within an inch of his life.

“You fucking idiot,” that’s not a good start, not when IV’s mind is spiralling in every direction and thinking of every possible worst case scenario his mind can conjure up, “took you a while there to catch up.”

“I— you- what?”

“I’ve kinda, sorta been in love with you since the first time you drunkenly kissed me and then gave me a handjob and covered my dick in black paint.”

“That was last year.”

“Well,” he shrugs like it’s nothing, like he hasn’t just made IV the happiest man on the face of the planet, “yeah.”

III wraps a big, fluffy towel on his shoulders - he didn’t realise he was shaking, droplets of water drying in his body at the contact with the cold air.

“So, about that lotion? I don’t want your butt to be sore tomorrow.”

And if IV grabs him by the front of his sopping shirt and kisses the daylights out of him, nobody but them has to know.

[noinoi10101010]

the sun proposed to the moon

Nova and frost ended up making there own pizzeria there love growing even stronger. there main goal to protect kid like they always did came into reality as they saved even more kids like they wanted there bound growing more and more closer. "Ready to entertain the kids today novie" frost says happily as nova looks at him innocence in his eyes "of course frostie" ~ he says in a excited voice as he hugs him. Oh frost precious little sunlight if only he knew what he had planned for him. "So what do you want to do today?" Nova says happily as one of the children chime in "ooo oo how about we all act out snow white." One of the little boys said happily "yeah and we can all be the seven dwarfs and nova can be snow White and first can be the Prince" A girl suggested as nova blushed at the idea but loved it none the less he loved snow white and unknown to nova a lot of the kids seem to be very excited more then usual With frost giving then both a knowing glances. They all set up the stage And the play starts pretty normal. Everything seems to be going well throughout the whole play. But then the part were the prince is supposed to kiss snow White and frost who is playing the prince does easily does and even the end were everyone celebrates but something is added at the very end frost goes down on one knee as all the kids can berly hold back there excitement as nova looks down confused "frostie we both have been there for each other through thick and thin I can think of anyone else that I wouldn't choose as my soul mate. I want to continue saving kids and....even start a family of my own with you. " frost says as nova blushes "Just imagine novie us taking care of kids. I can see how often you want to start a family with how often you mention how good we would be as parents and how you wonder how we would be as parents." Frost says as nova has a puppy love grin on his face "you really remembered all of that frostie. Oh frostie I don't know what I would do without you." Nova says as what feels like his jaw hitting the floor as frost pulls out a dark blue small box "what if you don't have to worry about that." Frost says as the crowd of kids start cheering "ASK HIM"! and "SAY YES NOVA!" To a crowd of cheering kids as frost opens the box to see a special designed ring that changes into a gold ring with a yellow sun gem to a silver ring with a dark blue moon gem depending on who is in control. "novie will you marry me?" Frost asks as tear will up in his eyes as huge ones will up in nova's "YES OH YES FROSTIE OF COURSE!" nova says happily as the crowd of kids cheer as nova puts the ring on and hug tackles frost and give small pecks all over his face. They can finally start a family now together and save kids together just like they always wanted.

@sillyzone1209

[critical-doedecahedron]

Okay.. so I'm gonna talk more about this I guess.

I have been a gqux defender from the start, I've enjoyed most of it, but ugh...

So, the positives, what I liked:

Machu and Nyaan fighting together

The visuals, obviously

The fight choreography

Machu and Nyaan completing their dream of making it to earth, however I would have preferred a different ending. Or have them tackle it a different way

Negatives;

I kinda thought all the stuff with the original white gundam got a little dumb, especially with it growing in size???? What was that????? Sorry if thats me complaining too much

I think the narrative of this episode was nowhere near as strong as other episodes

A lot of it felt there just to tie up lose ends, especially with the ending montage and the clanbat people appearing again

It was so??? Rushed??? Nothing really felt satisfying to me I'm sad to say

I really dont like all the Shuji loves Machu stuff, the "this world was made for us to meet" NO!!!! SHUT UP!!!!!! Also I think Shuji isnt as strong a character as any other character, especially for a protagonist, and I think him being someone who has "chased after Lalah across countless worlds" makes him even weaker. It feels... lame and contrived....

Shuji is clearly my biggest problem with this show, he feels like nothing more then a bland plot point not a character, however I still believe the Shuji Transfem agenda

Everything just needed so much more time, I think there's a world where this show works and is good, the ending dampens everything the show has done good for me though.

More I can't name, I need to get my thoughts in orser but unfortunately a lot of my feelings for this episode are negative.

All that being said:

I think this show will always hold a special place in my heart, for various reasons. Talking about it week by week has been a lot of fun and I will miss it.

Machu is one of my favourite characters period rn, I do not think she is one of the best characters ever, but she sits in the top 5 characters ever in my brain though that may change.

I think a lot of this show was competently made, however I REALLY prefered the early stuff, up to like episode 7-8 with all the clanbat stuff, I thought that was more fun

As much as I can think the multiversal stuff can work it needed more buildup and it felt shoved in there and like it gunked up the show as a whole

But its impossible for me to say I don't like this show, I do, however there is an urge, an itch, to fix it because with that ending I don't think I can say Gqux is *GOOD*

I dont know, maybe I'll draft up an outline for how I'd approach what it feels like what they wanted to do and what I think could be done better, maybe I'll draft up a whole fanfic for it, I am confident it would be very different in the end from the show though.

Would anyone be interested in that?

[suevi-if]

RO reaction to MC kissing them to shut them up during an argument? 👀

Hi anon! Thank you for the cute ask <3

I had so much fun I actually wrote quite long scenarios, which is why they're all under the cut :)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"No, listen, it's more complicated than that-"

You interrupt Ing with a kiss. You know it's more complicated, but you don't want to argue anymore. Not with them. They don't move at all, it's like they're stunned. Oh, Gods. Were you wrong about their feelings? Do they not like you this way? Maybe you should-

Finally, they kiss you back. Their hands move to cup your face. After a few more seconds, they move back, still holding your face. With an unreadable face, they murmur, "We're not done with this topic," before kissing you once more.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Aquila sighs. They hate arguments with a passion. "If you just listen to yourself for a moment-"

What an absolute hypocrite. Listen to yourself? Something they should try for once. In a fit of emotions running high, you cup their face and kiss them.

They instantly react and kiss you back, deepening the kiss further. Things get heated with them fairly quickly, not only during arguments, but also during other activities.

They pull you close, intent of not letting you go anytime soon.

When you both struggle to breathe, they break off the kiss. "Uhm... so... let's just forget whatever we argued about. I can think of nicer things to do right now."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Gods! She'll just have to wait! It takes as long as it takes, I don't care about her feelings."

D is pissed. They care about the feelings of others, especially the feelings of little princesses girls they actually like. But you also know they're too stubborn to change their point of view, or admit they're in the wrong. And if you didn't have this whole argument, they'd probably be done with their work already, and you could leave together with Flavia.

Right now, she's keeping herself busy by playing outside, but by the Gods, you know three year olds can get bored very quickly. On top of that, she hasn't had her afternoon nap yet, so she will get grumpy soon. You have to get her back to the mansion, as soon as possible.

To finally shut D up, you decide to do the one thing you know exactly will make them melt: You move towards them and press your lips on theirs.

D jerks their head back after a few seconds of processing what you did, their face turning into a bright pink hue. "Wha- I- You- Huh?!"

Oops. Seems like you broke them instead. It looks like you'll still be here for quite a while, and Flavia will have to wait for her nap...

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"It's not my fault your master didn't give you enough money for everything he wanted you to get, you'll just have to go back and ask for more!"

Nefer could really cut you some slack and give you a discount. They can be such a greedy asshole sometimes. As if they really needed the money...

"Please, Nefer? Master will send me once more, and I just don't have the time-"

"No way, [Name], if my other customers hear you get special treatment or a discount-"

Out of frustration, you interrupt them with a kiss.

Not only do they kiss you back instantly, they also wrap their arms around you. After breaking apart, they mumble, "Well, maybe I could take that as payment for the missing coin. But you won't get away that easily next time this happens."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"No, recludere is to open, claudere is to close. Come on, you know this. I know you can remember it if you try."

You sigh. Learning Latin was one of the most boring things you were tasked to do. Sure, your masters didn't speak a barbarian language, but their language just sounded all the same to you. Why couldn't there be some kind of middle ground?!

Frustrated with yourself and this stupid language, you ask Xen, "Can we stop for today? Please? I'm getting a headache."

Xen, a glint in their eyes, responds to your request, "Only if you can tell me what 'headache' is in Latin."

Oh, Gods. That's mean. You haven't learned that word yet, and they know! They probably know that you're only acting because you're sick of learning.

The thread that kept a hold on the last smidgen of your patience finally snaps. You lean over the desk, grab their cheeks and press a kiss on their lips. Maybe, just maybe, they'll let you go now.

As you pull back, you see their stunned face, blinking rapidly in confusion. After a moment, they recover, and an adoring smile graces their lips as they study your features. "Maybe I was a little too harsh. But don't think you're getting out of this so easily. You have to learn. Five more words, then we'll stop for today, okay?"

[polentaconleche]

Thoughts on ilium the musical, Jorge's upcoming production?

I am between excited... but also scared x'd bc from one side I'm very happy bc I love Jorge's music and how he thinks about every single detail and as well I'm sure it'll be a huge inspiration for me in the topic of drawing..., but there's the problem, my friend I am a VERY stressed person, specially when designing characters, I'm trying to change that, buuuuut it's a bit hard, I just want everything to be PERFECT, OK?? X'''d

Leaving that behind... I just can't wait to listen to the musical! When talking with a friend of mine we agreed that "As long as Ayron Alexander's on it, I'll be happy" jsjss and taht they make Aquilles x Patroclus canon 🗣️🔥🔥🔥

Oh and THAT and that pls... no more toxicity ;-; and not more "Epic takes" where they just insult artists