#my peak tv journey

[postguiltypleasures]

My Peak TV Journey *Better Call Saul*

This is an entry that took a while to write. I watched the first two seasons of Better Call Saul as they aired, not too long after I binged Breaking Bad, from which it spun off. I don’t remember why I didn’t watch the third season as it aired. I was busy with something. But I finally got around to the final four seasons around the one year anniversary of the final episodes. I never re-watched the first two seasons, nor BB. This probably did come at the expense of some appreciation for the series. I know there were some characters and sub plots that I forgot in my hiatus. But I never felt I had the time, and frankly, I didn’t like either series enough to rewatch. 

Which isn’t to say that I don’t think it is good. I think it’s good, but it fills me with dread, and not all of it seems intentional. I think As someone who watched and presumably liked BB, the various references to things that would happen there should have excited me more than they did. I found myself resenting that I promised myself to finish it before starting some shows that I also want to see, (the list is endless).

I like the characters of Jimmy and Kim. I like them better than most of the characters from BB, which is why I think the feeling I of dread I got from BB character was unintentional. (I completely forgot about some of the characters from the earlier series between viewings. This includes the Salamanca twins who I think should have left more of an impression on me.)

As I went on I started thinking about how many things that make television television, as opposed to a series of movies. TV runs off the tension between something familiar that the viewer wants more of and the desire to know what is next, and sometimes it felt like BCS was actively going against these things. For example, I often find that I amorally attached to certain sets. BCS ran through various great office and apartment sets, only to make the familiar Saul’s office from BB seem extra unpleasant. Then there were subplots, especially with Gus, where knowing how it wraps up in BB, just made it feel slack. Knowing Gus and Hector die in a murder-suicide made the scenes where Gus was tormenting Hector after his stroke seem pointless. 

There were other times when I wondered about how much I could hate most of the main characters. In particular, I found myself hating Mike more and more as the series as it went on. Or maybe I always hated him, and just got over the sense that I was supposed to like him, or at least see him as somewhat sensible. After all the things between Mike and Werner I think the former deserved to be murdered by Walter White and have to listen to Walter yammer on while he died. Mike’s essential to the plots of both shows, but I hate everything he stands for. He’s smug, cynical know it all. I can’t tell if I was supposed to dislike him, but the fact that I did makes it seem like I should have given up on this earlier.

My fixation on “what does it mean that I hate Mike this much?” is because I am under the impression that he is a well liked character amongst fans. I am also under the impression that Jimmy’s brother Chuck is generally a hated character. I can understand it. Depending on your point of view he either doomed Jimmy to become Saul, or at least refused anything helpful. But I liked Chuck and was less engaged by the show after he died.  His dynamics with Jimmy, Kim and Howard were interesting to me in ways that none of cartel stuff was. I was also amused that Chuck apparently wanted to write a book about the Commerce Clause. The Commerce Clause has fascinating history with American Civil Rights Movements and seems pretty controversial with the current Supreme Court of the USA. But I doubt Chuck would write a book that is engaging for most readers, because he tend to be in his own, intellectual world and doesn’t engage with the masses. And that’s the kind of tragedy that fascinates me.

Jimmy’s potential to be something other that Saul is traced with the class action suit he starts after some discovers at The Sandpiper Senior Residence. I was kind of shocked by how long this plot lasted, especially as it seemed to be dropped for episodes at a time. I made a note for myself about how the beginning and the beginning-of-the-end of the Sandpiper storyline involves Jimmy in a toilet stall making unconventional use of toilet paper. The first is desperate but optimistic. The second is cynical and much more destructive. It ends tragically, which shouldn’t be a surprise as the set up reminded me of Anthony Trollope’s The Warden, and that was a rough read. But how it ended, with the two worlds of the show colliding and making the lead to BB inevitable was exciting and dreadful. It also involved lots of name dropping and heavy foreshadowing with the assumption that we remember it from however long ago we watched BB. It’s really well done. It’s connected aspects of today’s media, where every series in an intellectual property that can go on forever. And I really don’t like that. 

I want to talk about about the show’s other corporate plot in the series, the Mesa Verde plot, the one that Kim is involved in. It’s her big get, and something of a boring prison. It started half way through the second season and ends near the end of the fifth, so it was easy to dismiss as not that important to the general direction, but it does have some interesting things about how most lawyering is tiring paperwork not what we want from a TV show. It shows that Kim gets risky in her games with Jimmy because of how unengaged she is with work that is otherwise going well. Because of the amount of time between the debut BB and now, I found myself wondering if the housing market bubble will affect the Mesa Verde plot? Which I guess made me more engaged than Kim? 

The main idea in this is that after finishing the series, I don’t think I liked it enough to justify the amount of time I spent watching it. But I need say, I do think it’s well made. It was always great to look at, especially with some of their more metaphoric shots, like the ants on the abandoned ice cream cone signaling JImmy’s future as Saul. All the performances were well done. I can tell there was some hard work in this. It wasn’t for me. I need to be better at giving things up that aren’t for me. 

#peak tv #my peak tv journey #what i'm watching #Better Call Saul #BCS #Breaking Bad #BB #saul goodman #jimmy mcgill #kim wexler #chuck mcgill #howard hamlin #mike erhmantraut

[elvisalltheway101]

••••••Crimson and Clover•••••

Summary: Elvis deals with insomnia and it’s hard enough as it is. When he wakes up in the middle of the night randomly, he looks over at you. In all your glory and beaut. When his thoughts linger and wander, his body can’t help but react. Instead of disturbing your beauty sleep, he decides to take matters into his own hands. Literally.

Author’s note: I was supposed to write out a different thing and post it, “My Sweet Remedy,” but then I got a huge idea for this… don’t ask, what the hell does this gotta do with this song. And the title’s got nothing to do with it…don’t ask, because my answer will be too far intelligent for understanding. No actually because I cannot give you an answer, since my ass doesn’t even know.

Author ain’t go shut up yet: Also, this is my second time writing smut…so cut my ass so slack or better yet, gimme some ass cuz your girl has nothing but a flat board- This is definitely a little different than what I had in mind but enjoy anyway! Oh! And keep in mind, I’m imagining Vegas Elvis in this and this is 2nd-ish point of view!

warnings: masturbation (elvis doing this), dirty thoughts.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Elvis lets out a soft groan, turning in the silky and red sheets of his king-sized bed and wakes up slowly. His eyes flicker up, squinting into the dark to adjust his vision. He can make out the side of where his baby darlin’, Pillow, lays. He’s called you “Pillow” since the day you both started dating, for two good reasons. The thickness of your body and the swells of every perfect curves you’ve got on that damn body of yours. And 2, because your heart was as soft as a damn feather. Uncalled for reason #3 was also because you were pretty damn ticklish and giggle.

Elvis reaches over with a grunt, stretching out his arm to switch on the light. The light switches on and he lets out a hiss as the sudden brightness shines onto you both. The light’s dim but bright enough to make out of everything. His eyes roam around the room, looking at the tv across from the bed and over to you.

His eyes can’t help but travel from your pretty little head, to your itty widdle feet that journeyed on, walking around to fulfill duties he gives you. But this night particularly, he really can’t help it. Can’t help the way his eyes watch your body, and hear your soft breaths you take every moment. You sleep so peacefully and quiet, but also deep.

Since your back is faced to him:

His eyes watch your long, thick hair splayed against the pillow your cute lil pink cheeks lay on. Your curls shine under the moonlight that peaks through the room’s curtains.

How it would be to hold and grip em while making sweet, sensual love to you.

His mind wanders, and he cant help the small smirk that comes upon his lips. His eye continue to travel lower, seeing your perfect shoulders, and down to your waist. You didn’t have an hourglass figure…or did you? The way you lay on your side, and your waist dips down, bringing your hipbones to stand curvy and mighty.

Oh, your hips.

Your love handles that he’d just love to grab while he ravishes into your sweet pussy.

Fucking hell, your pussy.

He clenched a fist and bites down hard on a knuckle, breathing in a sharp breath to keep a groan in.

Where can he start?

His eyes keep at the delicious swell of your ass. So plump and thick in all its glory. And only his imagination would have to work right now on your beautiful flower thats not far below your belly button.

Elvis can’t help the twitch in his pants. Hell, he didn’t even notice it til he finally got into his head. One of hands balling the sheets into one fist while he chews his knuckle on the other, and he only now realizes that he’s become painfully hard.

He takes his eyes off you to quickly and gruffly untie the strings of his pajama pants. When he lowers them, his eyes quickly dart back over to your ass. Oh, he’d love to just dip his tongue and press against your little pink hole that he sees whenever you arch your back. Only times he sees your second tight hole, was when he’d spank you for being a naughty girl or when he’d take you from behind. Lord, did he wanna bite your ass cheeks right now.

From all his shuffling, you start to wake up slightly. Letting out a hum and shifting onto your other side, now that’s the sight Elvis can stare at for the rest of his life.

Your soft hair that’s showered and lays almost a veil onto your calm and soft facial features. The sight of your perky and tender breasts that smoosh against eachother as you lay, and your legs crossed over the other.

He lets out a soft whimper, grabbing his cock with no hesitation. His length is stiff as stone, a pretty pink is his veiny shaft and his pretty tip that peeks under his foreskin, wags back and forth. When his thumb swipes across his tip, it already has his hips stuttering.

Seeing more than enough for his imagination to wander and work, he turns his gaze to his throbbing cock. His right tan hand bobs up and down on the poor “little” fellow in rhythm with his breathing. Elvis closes his eyes and tilts his head back, trying to keep his breathing steady.

How it would be to just fuck you senseless. Your tight hole swallowing him deep. Your- oh and then to have your pretty little ass hole hug his long fingers snug and perfectly.

He lets out a soft gasp, speeding up his hand on his cock. Precum dribbles from his pretty cock and he uses that as a lubricant. He bucks his hips into his fist, until his balls slap and bounce slightly to his pinky knuckle and back.

His mind continues to come up with ideas of what he would do to you once you both wake up in the morning. Then, he glances and turns his head back to see your face. Your pretty plush and plump lips, your long dark lashes that tickle and rest against your upper cheeks and again, the hair that smells as rose and strawberry cupcakes.

His fist tightens around his cock and he doesn’t care anymore. He doesn’t care if he wakes you up. Or even the damn neighbors. Not even if his mama or daddy can hear from next door. His tip off loads and drops more glistening and shiny arousal, and he twitches harshly in his hand.

How it would be to cum on that pretty little face of yours. To have your lips and fluttering, innocent and doe eyes that your long dark lashes shelter be coated with layers of his hot cum.

That does it for him, he lets out a high-pitched moan, taking both fists to squeeze both his shaft and his thumb to press firmly against his wet and sticky, hard tip. And his other hand to cup and squeeze his ballsacks.

He lets out a Yelp from how harsh he’s being to his own body, but his lower belly heaves and gets covered by his thick, warm ropes of white nectar. His hips stutter against the bed and he finally leans back.

He can already hear the stomping of his parents, and the groaning of you about to wake up…

How the hell was he supposed to explain this, anyway? •••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Hope you enjoyed! And May I add, I didn’t proofread this shit🫣

Tagging: @msamarican

#Spotify #elvis imagine #elvis presley #elvis fans #70s elvis #army elvis #elvis presely #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley fic #elvis presley smut #elvis presley x reader #elvis presely smut #elvis presley imagine #elvis presley x you #elvis presley x reader smut #enjoyyyyy #Elvis smut

[illumismaid]

lover, you should've come over

wc: 0.8k fem!reader

synopsis: bakugo has nightmare but it's not reality? :O

Late at night, in the privacy of his dimly lit room, Bakugo found solace in the melody of his old guitar. The chords he played resonated with the turmoil in his heart, and as he sang, his voice was a raw echo of his unspoken emotions. 

"Lover, you should've come over..." he crooned softly, the lyrics of Jeff Buckley's song becoming his confession to the void of his solitude. His fingers danced on the strings, and the mournful tune filled the room. 

In that moment, Bakugo couldn't help but remember the one who had gotten away, the one who had known the gentler side of him that he rarely let anyone see. She was a fleeting star in his chaotic universe, a love he had pushed away because he thought it was a weakness. 

As he continued to sing, his eyes glistened with unshed tears. The memories of her, the warmth of her smile, the way her presence had once brought peace to his relentless soul, haunted him. He had believed that strength meant isolation, but now he realized the emptiness that came with it. 

His phone lay on his nightstand, its screen lighting up with a message from her, the one he had pushed away. She had reached out, offering forgiveness, an opportunity to rekindle what they once had. And yet, Bakugo hesitated. 

The world still needed him, his power, his heroics, but the pain of a love loss was a weight that grew heavier with each passing day. He knew that he couldn't keep living in solitude, singing songs of sorrow and regret in the dead of night. 

"Lover, I'm torn down the middle," he sang with a voice choked with emotion. "But I don't wanna feel so different... Oh, lover, please come back to me..." 

Bakugo knew he had a choice to make. The world outside might demand his strength, but his heart yearned for something he had neglected for too long. With trembling fingers, he reached for his phone, the lyrics still echoing in his head. 

He began to type a message, a message that could change his life, and he sent it to her. "I'm ready," it read, "I want you back in my life. I've been a fool for too long." 

As he pressed send, a wave of vulnerability washed over him. The sound of the guitar still lingered in the room, but the sorrowful tune was slowly fading, giving way to a glimmer of hope, a chance for reconciliation, and the possibility of mending what he had once torn apart. 

That's when the soft hum of the AC finally registered in Bakugo’s mind. Bakugo also registered the person in his arms. They were 3rd year students now, their shared journey through hero training at its peak. But tonight, the weight of the future pressed upon their hearts as they snuggled on his bed. 

 Bakugo's arms that were wrapped around her tightened after he figured out where he was, and her head was nestled against his chest. His fingers now traced absent minded patterns on her arm as they gazed at the Tv showing a movie that had been silenced and long forgotten. 

"Hey," Bakugo mumbled, breaking the quietude. "You ever think about the future?" 

She shifted to look up at him, her eyes filled with curiosity. "Yeah, all the time. It is kinda scary, isn't it? We'll be pro heroes soon." 

Bakugo nodded; his gaze still fixed on the fading light. "Yeah, it's scary, but it's exciting too. We've worked our asses off for this, and we're gonna be amazing heroes." 

She smiled, her heart warmed by his determination. "I have no doubt about that, Katsuki. We'll make a great team." 

His hand gently cupped her cheek, and he leaned down to press a soft kiss to her lips. "Of course, we will. No one can match us." 

They lay in silence for a while, simply enjoying the comfort of each other's presence. The gentle sounds of the night filled the room—the distant laughter of other students, the whisper of the wind, and the creaking of the dorm building. 

Finally, Bakugo broke the silence, his voice a soft whisper, filled with a tenderness that was reserved for her alone. "You know, I can't wait for the future. I can't wait to be a hero with you by my side. And there's something else I can't wait for..." 

Her eyes sparkled with curiosity. "What is it, Katsuki?" 

Bakugo took a deep breath, and his fingers gently traced a line down her cheek. "I can't wait to marry you," he confessed, his gaze unwavering. "When all of this hero stuff is behind us, and we've made a name for ourselves, I want to marry you. Be with you forever." 

A surge of warmth flooded over her heart, and she felt her eyes welling up with happy tears. "Katsuki... I can't wait for that either." 

thank you for reading ♡

#bakugou katsuki #mha #mha bakugo katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugou #bakugo katuski x reader #mha x reader #mha x you #bakugo x female reader

[crisisreading]

Now that we’ve reached the halfway point of the PJO TV series, I want to recap my thoughts so far (as someone who first read the books back in 2010 as a fifth grader)!

I will share another post with my dislikes soon.

Likes:

- Having Sally tell the Greek myths to Percy throughout his life is SO smart. Sally has very little agency to protect her son, but this was the one way she could prepare him to be a hero.

- I love how Luke’s mentorship towards Percy is emphasized in the show. This is Percy’s first positive male role model and the first person to make Percy feel at home in the demigod world. This strong foundation really sets up these two boys to be dramatic foils.

- I like the fact that Percy is NOT the best fighter yet. We watch him stumble and struggle during his fights with Alecto, the Minotaur, and Clarisse. You can tell when his instincts kick in and even he is surprised at what he is doing.

- Having Echidna and the Chimera catch up to our heroes at the Arch because Athena ALLOWS it was brilliant!

- And the change from Percy jumping from the Arch and praying for his father’s help in the books, versus resigning himself to death and falling instead perfectly captures where Percy is in his hero’s journey. Why would he trust a god who he’s never met, and has done horrible things?

- Honestly, the contrast between Annabeth defending Athena and being forsaken versus Percy forsaking Poseidon and being rescued, is peak television!

- I am so so so relieved that the show has maintained the plotline of the gods being flawed and even cruel beings. I was certain that Disney would whitewash this aspect of the story, but I’m glad we see the heroes doubting their parents, and the gods acting weird at best or murderous at worst. After all, this is a family story and the entire Titan war is started because demigods felt abandoned by their parents.

- Finally, I was so impressed by the show’s adaptation of Grover! The way Grover was able to use his abilities as an empath and his people skills to read and manipulate Ares himself was genius! And it really shows why satyrs are trusted to guide demigods on quests.

Please let me know your likes!

#annabeth chase #percy jackson #pjo #heroes of olympus #hoo #percabeth #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo series #grover underwood #pjo tv adaptation #pjo tv series #pjo tv show #pjo fandom #percy jackson and the olympians

[sketching-shark]

I was curious to know, is there a specific adaptation of JTTW that you particularly enjoy? Whether its good or accurate isnt important but more like in your personal taste

AUGH going to be honest @seasonalsummers in that I don't feel like I can pick just one...there's so many excellent retellings! But I will take this opportunity to present some of my favorites.

So first up we have the 1986 Journey to the West tv series. It is in many ways very goofy and gaudy, but there's just as many reasons why it's considered one of the best retellings out there, from its genuine heart to the adherence to the og classic. And needless to say its Sun Wukong really set a standard for cheeky scheming monkey behavior. You can start watching it here:

Next up is 2016s The Monkey King 2. While this film is one of those retellings that gives the White Bone Demon a lot more prominence than she has in the og classic--and definitely has its own silly stupid moments--it also stands as one of the very few retellings that directly addresses the paradox of Tang Sanzang's mission: that he's trying to get the sutras to help mortals achieve a state of peace all while abhorring violence, and yet its only because of the violence of his disciples, especially Sun Wukong, that he's able to right a number of wrongs or simply go from day to day uneaten. You can watch it here:

And now it's time to give kudos to 2015's Monkey King: Hero Is Back. While this film is FAR from a faithful retelling and (usual refrain) has its own silliness, pretty simple plot, and gross-out humor, it also has so much heart and stands as a wonderful embodiment of the dad Wukong characterization. One also has to give it credit for its main child character, Jiang Liuer, being a genuinely charming kid who's wonder at the world and desire to do good drives the story forward in a sincerely lovely way. You can watch it here:

More recently--and in a work that is at best only loosely following the plot of Xiyouji--is 2022's Lighting Up the Stars. This film follows the story of a Li Nezha coded little orphan girl Wu Xiaowen and a Sun Wukong coded funeral director Mo Sanmei as they go from a very tense relationship to a genuinely loving father-daughter relationship. While there are moments of this film that feel kind of overwrought, it's an honestly wonderful exploration of what goes into dealing with death and the importance of love in all its many forms during life. I also have a soft spot for Mo Sanmei, who from what I've seen is the very peak of explicitly shitty cringefail loser who then genuinely works hard to become a better person Sun Wukong out there. It can be watched here:

Turning away from film and animation for a moment, I simply have to give proper kudos to Chaiko Tsai's comic The Monkey King. Between the gorgeous art, fun character designs, a good sense of how to translate many of the stories of Xiyouji into comic format, and a resolution to the Sun Wukong vs. Niu Mowang fight that I actually prefer above that in Journey to the West itself, this is definitely a comic worth going through! You can purchase it here for about $30.00

And last but certainly not least, one simply has to give due credit to 1964's Uproar in Heaven. It's an absolute gem of stylized Chinese animation, a work with the very rare allowance on the Monkey King getting to go full grandpa for tons upon tons of monkeys at Mt. Huaguoshan, and it's very faithful to the first half of the og classic with the difference that here Sun Wukong does his havoc in heaven and gets away with it. All around its a really fun work to watch and does have a lot of importance from both an animation and a historical perspective. You can watch it here:

So those are my favorite adaptations of Journey to the West! It's but a fraction of the adaptations out there, but I hope other people found these as fun as I do.

#journey to the west #jttw #xiyouji #sun wukong #monkey king #jttw retelling #jttw adaptation #chaiko tsai monkey king #1964 uproar in heaven #uproar in heaven #monkey king hero is back #lighting up the stars #journey to the west 1986 #aaaaaa #to this day one of my favorite things about jttw #is all the incredible adaptations and retellings its inspired #ask answered

[thoughtportal]

Official measurements have found that Paris is rapidly becoming a city of transportation cyclists. The survey of how people now move in Paris was conducted with GPS trackers by academics from L’Institut Paris Région, the largest urban planning and environmental agency in Europe.

The institute’s transportation report was published on April 4. It found that the way Parisians are now traveling from the suburbs to the city center, especially during peak periods, has undergone a revolution thanks in part to the building of many miles of cycleways.

Those cyclists now on the streets and roads of central Paris are not Spandex-clad professionals as seen on the Tour de France but everyday transportation cyclists.

L’Institut Paris Région carried out the survey for a consortium of fourteen public and private partners, including local government and rail companies.

Reporting on the institute’s survey, French TV channel 20 Minutes told viewers that the “capital’s cycle paths are always full.”

Between October 2022 and April 2023, 3,337 Parisians aged 16 to 80 years old were equipped with GPS trackers to record their journeys for seven consecutive days. In the suburbs, where public transit is less dense, transport by car was found to be the main form of mobility. But for journeys from the outskirts of Paris to the center, the number of cyclists now far exceeds the number of motorists, a huge change from just five years ago. Most of the journeys recorded were commuter trips.

The city’s socialist mayor Anne Hidalgo has pushed through a great many anti-motoring measures during her two administrations—such as reducing the number of parking places, restricting access by SUVs, and closing some major roads to motorists—and the latest survey will be validation for her policies, none of which have caused the kind of protests that the French capital has long been famous for.

In short, culling cars has been far more popular than her petrolhead critics predicted, with Paris becoming cleaner and healthier to boot.

Notably, and without the spread of conspiracy theories common outside of France, Paris is also putting into practice the home-grown concept of the “15-minute city,” creating urban areas where access to amenities is close and hence there’s less need to drive. {read}

Carlton Reid

I was Press Gazette’s Transport Journalist of the Year, 2018. I’m also an historian – my most recent books include “Roads Were Not Built for Cars” and “Bike Boom”, both published by Island Press, Washington, D.C.

#article #paris #france #forbes #cars #bikes #bike lanes #infrastructure #urban planning #urban design #Anne Hidalgo

[cheesybadgers]

Narcos Fic: Old Habits Die Hard (Chap. 24)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo

Words: 3,440

Summary: It's been 15 years since Horacio and Javier brought down Gacha in Tolú, and now they're back where their story began.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Brief allusions to period-typical prejudices/politics/legislation, very brief sexual references, smoking, swearing, all the fluff.

Notes: Well....I feel like I should post this with a fanfare or something (just imagine there's one playing), but oh boy, oh man, oh god. I did it. I flipping did it 😭 It's only taken 36 months, copious amounts of blood, sweat and tears, a deranged amount of research, the last shred of my sanity, and probably a fair amount of back/neck pain from sitting at my laptop for too long to get here. But hey, if I don't write a self-indulgent novel-length fix-it fic for a criminally underrated rarepair from a defunct TV show, WHO WILL, I ASK THEE? 😂

I can't fully explain the journey this fic has taken me and my writing on, or the deep love I have in my heart for this ship and the OHDH universe that has lived constantly in my head these last few years. Even when I'm not actively writing, so many things remind me of these two everywhere I go. They got me through the darkest days of the pandemic and somehow became my comfort ship, despite er, certain canon events we don't talk about in this house.

Anyway, I think you've all heard quite enough from me for the time being. So, I will just say thank you so, so, so much to anyone who has read, commented, kudosed, reblogged, liked, sent me messages, made me things, suggested music recs, generally been incredibly supportive and kind ❤️

And thank you to anyone who may stumble across this fic in future. Please never be afraid to leave a comment, even if you're reading several years down the line, I will always love to hear from people about this story.

There will also be some moodboards and playlists posted on my Tumblr at some point (and *maybe* some new - much shorter lol - fics eventually) once I've caught my breath back a bit.

For the final time (unless I randomly think of anything I've forgotten, which is more than likely lol), I’ve also added to my OHDH trivia post to cover this chapter if anyone is interested.

Chapter 24: Suerte (Epilogue)

Early evening rays painted the pastel horizon, their last act of the day transforming the shimmering ocean into an inky palate of fuchsia, violet and saffron, the golden sands at the shore still warm to the touch hours past dusk.

Come the weekend, Colombians would travel far and wide to descend on the many beaches, bars and restaurants that dotted the waterfront. Or if they were feeling adventurous, they would birdwatch, dive off the Islas de San Bernardo, or canoe amongst the mangroves.

But it was mid-week and mid-December – when most locals were at work and school or preparing for Christmas. So, for now, Horacio and Javier had the place to themselves.

There was the added bonus of the coastline turning into a dense forest of palm trees just along from their beach house, civilisation a mile or so away on either side of them, so even at peak times, they remained secluded. It had become a daily ritual to luxuriate in the peace and quiet; a pre-dinner swim with no trunks required followed by entwined limbs and sand in their hair as the sun went down.

Today was no exception, the gentle lapping of the waves around them and their shallow breaths the only sounds to be heard, the taste of salt and scent of sun lotion heavy in the air and on their skin as Horacio rocked into Javier, slow and deep, their chests and foreheads drawn together.

It was almost dark when Javier switched on the shower taps, cascading soothing jets over his head, neck and shoulders. As he soaked his hair, the lights from inside the beach house sprung to life, illuminating the outdoor bathroom with an ambient glow. It was a feature of the premium accommodation they had splashed out on, a rare treat away for a special occasion.

The outside space was a mix of wood, tiles and natural stone for the walls and floors, encased by tall plants and trees for extra privacy. A double shower stood on a platform at the end of a walkway, with a large hot tub branching off in the other direction. On their first night here, they had opted for the tub, surrounding it with candles as a belated ode to Día de las Velitas, lost in each other beneath the bubbles and the stars.

A sturdy embrace enveloped Javier from behind, a position they had found themselves in every morning by the shore before breakfast, looking out to a tranquil sea and a kaleidoscopic sky. The day jobs kept them both on their feet and in good shape, although there was more softness around their stomachs, and Javier was stockier than in his younger years. But his upper body was even broader with muscle now.

He was no gym fiend, but he had accompanied Horacio in some of his strengthening training, wanting to keep his stamina up as much as possible. Not just for the obvious but because he was sometimes required to carry the heavier supplies at work and didn’t want to be shown up in front of his largely youthful team.

It was a welcome development to Horacio, whatever the reason. Not that he ever had any complaints before, but watching Javier blossom as he aged was a wonder to behold. Not to mention, there was more of him to enjoy now.

As for Horacio, aside from the sloping curve of his midriff, he was sheer jaguar strength. Not only in the noticeable places, but his core muscles were in peak condition, the daily horse riding improving his posture and taking him back to the drill commands of his cadet years. His skin was more weathered, and his days of being meticulously cleanly shaven at all times were long gone. But Javier assured him – a lot – the ruggedness was part of the appeal.

Javier wasn’t one to talk either, stubble being a more regular feature alongside his moustache nowadays. But that was mainly due to lack of time in his busy schedule rather than preference, so it wasn’t unheard of for Horacio to do the honours for him. For some reason, Horacio delicately scraping a razor blade across his jaw from the comfort of his lap was far more appealing to Javier than doing it himself in front of the bathroom mirror.

Their hair contained more grey patches, especially around the temples, which was easier to hide when they grew it longer. That wasn’t practical during the sweltering heat of a Texan summer, so they kept it shorter in the hotter months. But in the winter, they could run their fingers through choppy waves and coils of curls to their hearts’ content. And luckily for them, their anniversary fell in December.

“Can you believe it’s been 15 years to the day?” Horacio asked, scattering kisses across Javier’s back.

“This doesn’t even feel like the same fucking place, to be honest.”

“Tell me about it.”

Horacio let out a huff as flashbacks of leading his men on a fleet of raiding crafts towards Gacha’s hideout collided with memories from merely days ago of him and Javier island hopping in a hire boat along the same waters. They had taken a platter of fresh seafood and fruit, exploring the remotest beaches and lagoons, where their only company was the local wildlife.

He could still remember the sensation of the blood at his temple as he lay disorientated on the sand in the aftermath of the explosion, a stark contrast to dozing together under the shade of a palm tree or reading aloud to each other the words of Lorca, Gaitán Durán, Arbeláez, Neruda, Paz, Castellanos and Mistral.

“Although, I did notice signs for the barracks towards Coveñas when we were driving here,” Horacio added with a nostalgic smirk.

“Oh yeah? You didn’t want another night there for old times’ sake?” Javier tilted his head until he found Horacio’s lips with his teeth.

Horacio hummed and put up no resistance, his wet hands sailing with ease down Javier’s body, finding purchase at his hip bones. “It was tempting. But I figured you’d want to make the most of this before Christmas.”

“Damn right.”

They took turns massaging shampoo into each other’s scalps, lathering the suds through thick spirals, tenderly pulling at strands until they purred, thoroughly indulging in the sensation whilst they had the chance. And then they did it all again, rinsing off the soap, floating away on the meditative pressure of the faucet and their fingers.

“We could always see if Alejandra has more spa freebies if it gets too much, though,” Javier suggested through the haze of steam now cocooning them.

“I like your thinking.”

It had been a while since they last used such tickets, their previous visits not dissimilar to how their current vacation was playing out. But despite the chaos that would no doubt ensue, they were looking forward to catching up with Horacio’s side of the family. Between expanding businesses in Texas and Manizales and the oldest half of the brood living and working elsewhere now with the twins staying at home studying, they didn’t get to meet up as much as they would have liked.

However, Elena visited Laredo several times, swapping life stories and recipes with Chucho and joining Horacio and Javier in San Antonio one spring for the Fiesta. Her last holiday outside of Colombia had been before Alejandra and Horacio were born, so she was determined to take advantage of having family abroad before age finally caught up with her. There had even been discussions of a trip to Madrid if Horacio and Javier could arrange cover at work the following year.

“Pops is flying out on the 20th, right?”

“Yes. Marco and Raúl are covering the ranch and animals until your father’s back on the 28th. And Jorge is covering the farm until we’re home from Miami in the New Year.”

No one was keen to leave Luna, Sol and Leo, who had long since retired from ranch duties, but between work and Christmas commitments, Connie taking a full-time job in a different hospital, now Olivia was a teenager going on 30, and the earlier-than-expected arrival of Felipe’s and Juana’s second child – Óscar, a little brother to Claudia – New Year was the only time everyone’s schedules matched up.

These days, Luna, whose main residence was the cottage now, Sol and Leo spent most of their time nestled on furniture or looking for treats in the kitchen whenever food was prepared. However, Luna would sometimes still ride in the back of Horacio’s truck and keep him company in the lower fields.

Kira and Fuego had become old pros, showing their younger siblings, Cielo and Tierra, the ropes, not as replacements to the trio but as a new team with their own quirks and personalities. Thankfully, the dogs and Coco had taken well to the pair of barn cats, Churro and Tamale, who patrolled the outbuildings and dealt with any rodent intruders.

Meanwhile, Chucho showed few signs of slowing down, except one summer when he twisted an ankle, and even that was hard work to get him to rest. But he had been happy to step back from some of his more physically demanding responsibilities in recent years, trusting that the ranch and farm were in capable hands. With their expansion plans a resounding success – plus some new ones up their sleeves – he had become more involved in the business side of the operation alongside Miguel.

And, of course, he was always happy to offer Horacio advice whenever needed. But for the most part, he left him to it since Félix’s retirement, preferring to arrange for the guesthouses to be refurbished or to deliver fresh batches of cooking to aid workers and exhausted arrivals alike on the frontline of the border.

“Bet Jorge was as thrilled about that arrangement as my team.”

“Well, we can always delegate to our deputies whenever necessary. One of the perks of being promoted.”

It had taken Horacio five years under Félix’s watchful eye – and decades of experience – to be granted the title of farm manager. Then, Félix had retired the previous year, satisfied he had picked the right man as his successor and Jorge as deputy.

Horacio still had plenty to learn and likely always would with the constant conveyor belt of change to farming methods and technology that landed on his desk each month. However, there was a sense of familiarity with certain parts of the job, like the meetings, the paperwork, and the budget constraints. Except, this time, it all came without the funerals, the upper echelons of the CNP breathing down his neck, and the crushing weight of a country’s future on his shoulders.

“And a holiday on the Caribbean coast was necessary, was it?” Now that Javier’s hair was free from sand and shampoo, he turned to face Horacio, their lips almost touching.

Horacio nodded sagely and closed the gap. “A critical business need.”

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

Once dried off, they lay in a hammock in matching white towel robes under the thatched porch of their beach house with a perfect view of the sea, moon and stars.

“So, you like it here?” Horacio asked after a comfortable silence.

“It’s beautiful. I’m glad we came back – to see it how it’s meant to be.”

“Me too. Although, I fear violence will always be a parasite latched onto Colombia. Just when you think it’s gone from one place, it rears its head again in another. Or even the same place twice if you’re unlucky.”

Horacio remembered the stories he had heard from Trujillo in the last couple of years – particularly about Operation Orion. Officially, the incursion on Comuna 13 had been a success by the Colombian military against the likes of FARC. Unofficially, however, there were rumours of a leaked CIA report, disappeared individuals, and collusion between an Army General and none other than Don Berna’s subordinate. It was hard to keep faith that Medellín would ever be free from its past when history had such a predictable habit of repeating itself.

“I know. It feels like one step forward and two steps back in the States, too. Terrorism might be the new bogeyman, but re-branding to ICE and throwing a shitload of money at the DHS hasn’t stopped the drugs and the people finding their way over the border.”

Javier had heard directly from Steve about the shift in his job role since 9/11. Overnight, Steve’s whole department was removed from their current caseloads and signed up for every counter-terrorism and narco-terrorism course under the sun. It was now customary for DEA agents to be redeployed to the FBI as intelligence analysts if resources required. And if their eyes and ears were pulled away from the drug traffickers, it didn’t take a genius to figure out the consequences.

Meanwhile, in Texas, if anything, people only took graver risks in the wake of a beefed-up Border Patrol. Javier had spent a lot of the past year helping to set up new aid teams in Arizona and New Mexico, the inhospitable conditions of the desert not enough of a deterrent to stop families trying their luck or handing over their life savings to coyotes who didn’t care whether they made it across alive.

“But small things can add up to change. Bit by bit,” Javier added. “And at least they can’t arrest us for fucking in our own home anymore.”

“True. Not that the law stopped us before...” Horacio nuzzled against Javier’s neck before making a move to get up.

They may have joked in the here and now, but it wasn’t a change they took for granted. In fact, Luz and Carla had even persuaded Javier to attend a protest or two and pay bond and legal fees for those who had been arrested. After all, he’d had plenty of experience exchanging money for people’s freedom.

When news of the Supreme Court decision spread, it was another weight off their backs and one less reason to look over their shoulders, a chance to permanently put to bed memories of being spied on during such unguarded sacred moments. It was the final line to be drawn under those dark years, not to erase them because that was impossible. But it was, at least, closure.

Their cigarette was almost done, and Horacio had left the opened pack on the kitchen counter. Once retrieved, he took out another and leaned into Javier across the hammock, pressing the tip of his unlit cigarette against the lit one until it sparked.

“But you’re right,” Horacio continued, holding Javier’s gaze between exhaling a plume of smoke. He balanced on the edge of the hammock, just enough to stop it tipping sideways. “Things can change. But only if we want them to.” He perched their new cigarette between his lips as he reached into the pocket of his robe.

Their first cigarette was little more than a stub, so Javier stooped down to the ashtray on the floor to extinguish it. Once he sat up again, a small cubed box was presented into his spare hand.

Javier stared at the black box and blew out remnants of smoke, eyeing Horacio with an unreadable expression, an unspoken question and answer lingering between them and the mist of tobacco.

He prised open the box to reveal a ring of plain silver. Or, so he thought at first glance. But as he raised it towards the moon, the iridescent light caught on the inner band to reveal an inscription.

Suerte que encontré a mi media naranja.

(Lucky that I found my soulmate.)

“Fuck, Horacio…” Javier’s voice was strained, and his words came out as little more than a whisper. He held the ring between his thumb and forefinger, letting the ethereal reflection from above capture each word.

Horacio watched every shift in Javier’s face with bated breath and a dry throat, his limbs lead and weightless all at once.

“The world’s changing around us,” Horacio said at last; swallowing his nerves and summoning his courage. “But no matter what the law or courts say in any state or country, this can mean whatever we want it to mean.”

Javier’s jaw worked back and forth, his teeth clamping down on the inside of his cheeks. But it was no use, and he let out a trembling scoff, an attempt to distract from the shining pupils he finally confronted Horacio with.

And then a broad smile crept across Javier’s features, his palm connecting with Horacio’s cheek before he plucked the cigarette from his fingers and took a drag. “Pass me my jeans.”

It took Horacio a moment to process Javier’s request. Of all the responses he had prepared for – the good and the bad – that hadn’t been on his list, funnily enough. With narrowed eyes and pursed lips, he complied and fetched the jeans that had been flung over a sun lounger when they stripped off to swim earlier. Apparently, regardless of how humid the climate in Tolú became, denim remained a reliable staple of Javier’s wardrobe.

“Check my left pocket.”

Whatever Javier was up to, Horacio was torn between intrigue and irritation at Javier’s temerity to issue orders despite leaving him hanging. But he did as he was told, and in an instant, everything made sense.

“I can always take it back if you’d prefer…”

But Horacio was already opening the near-identical box, and any teasing faded to white noise as he came face-to-face with the gold equivalent of his own proposal.

“Hold it up to the light.”

The night sky was brighter now, making it easier for the inscription to be revealed.

Mi amor, mi vida, mi hogar, mi vaquero. Siempre tuyo.

(My love, my life, my home, my cowboy. Yours always.)

It was Javier’s turn to observe, and it didn’t take long for Horacio to raise a brow in his direction, shooting him a look of feigned exasperation that only came with the territory of a relationship as enduring as theirs.

“What?” Javier said with disingenuous innocence and a vulpine smile.

It was a contagious kind of smile, one that reminded Horacio they were equals in this and that he shouldn’t have been surprised Javier had the same idea.

“I take it my mother showed you her ring?”

“On my first visit to Manizales. It was beautiful. And so’s this.”

“As is this.”

“I like to think I put my own spin on it.”

“You did.”

They sat side-by-side on the hammock, legs facing towards each other with the rings held in their outstretched hands.

Javier’s thumb slid across Horacio’s left palm, tracing patterns over new callouses born from hard labour rather than war. He circled his wrist, waiting for the familiar rhythm but finding a beat that was, unsurprisingly, drumming quicker than usual.

After subduing with his touch, Javier retrieved the gold band, gliding it carefully onto Horacio’s ring finger, easing it over the knuckle until it rested snugly at the base.

They sat transfixed, marvelling at the light dancing across it as Horacio’s thumb ran back and forth over the curved surface in fascination.

Horacio repeated the ritual of mapping Javier’s left hand, lacing their fingers together as a tangible reminder of their bond. Their devotion. Their vow. Their choice. Whether the law honoured it one day or not.

He picked up the silver to his gold, shimmying it along Javier’s ring finger and passing beyond the slight resistance at his knuckle. Not too much force, but firm enough for it to sink perfectly into place.

With palms connected and fingers interlocked, their foreheads met, chests rising and falling in tandem.

“Te amo tanto, Javier.”

“Yo también te amo. Tanto, Horacio. Tanto.” Javier whispered, over and over in Horacio’s ear like a prayer – their prayer – before brushing his lips above Horacio’s brow, the bridge of his nose, both cheeks and down to his mouth, creating their own sign of the cross with each kiss. A new beginning and a welcome home.

They untied their robes and collapsed onto the hammock in a tangle of limbs, silver and gold melding at their chests and hands; their past, present and future as inseparable as their hearts, bodies and souls.

With one smooth motion, Horacio pinned Javier’s arms down into the netting of the hammock, a dark, hungry gaze passing between them as cool metal fused with hot skin.

15 years and several lifetimes may have gone by. But when Horacio had the man he loved, the man who loved him, his media naranja, underneath him, only one word ran through his head. Mine.

Old habits die hard, he supposed.

#Narcos fic #Narcos #Javier Peña #Horacio Carrillo #Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo #Pedro Pascal #Maurice Compte #Narcos fanfic #Narcos fanfiction #Narcos fan fic #My Fan Fic #My Narcos Fic

[soyhasmcaamp]

I have been listening to "Servant of evil" a bit lately and I've thought about a little base for a velvet and vox twins/siblings AU. I still need to work on it but it might be my most thought out AU do far (that I've actually openly shared).

Vox canonically died in like the 1950's and we don't really know velvets death date, but I've seen someone say that she probably died around the 2000's or 2010's ish. In this AU they were born in the 1940's and died around the late 2000's early 2010's.

They were born in London to an almost-famous couple, a fashion model mother who later also started blogging her modeling journey on the internet and a tv host and sometimes-part-time-actor father.

Sometime in the later 1980's their father wanted them all to move to America, but the mother was strongly against it, since she had build her entire career in London and wasn't about to give it up at it's peak. They had a big argument that ended in a divorce and split custody over vox and vel. Vel stayed with their mother and vox went with their father to America. Vox and Vel still kept In contact and send each other messages and kept each other updated on what their parents were doing. Both of them later got into their respective parents' jobs, velvet becoming a fashion model and designer and vox a known tv host. Though their ways kinda parted when they became adults, they still texted from Time to time and vox followed velvets blog about her life as a model and designer, and velvet watched vox's shows whenever she could.

(I don't have much of an idea as to how they both would die in this AU, but i think it would be funny to make them die in a similar way. Like, a light on set falling on vox and a light on stage falling on velvet, both during a show. I think I wanna make vox die a few years before velvet, maybe 5 or so years before her. )

After they both die and find each other again, not recognizing each other at first but then quickly connecting the dots of their behavior and appearance, they both start to climb up the ranks to become overlords, later together with val which vel only tolerates because he makes vox happy after the old ass radio fucker went and broke his heart and because she's a good twin sister, but they never reveal their relationship as siblings to anyone, not even val. They know that hell is cruel and any kind of affection will be used against you in some way, so they keep it a secret. Not really hard considering their bickering and insulting each other which, from afar, makes it seem like they barely tolerate each other. That couldn't be farther from the truth though, they'd both happily risk their life to protect the other from harm.

The AU itself doesn't have much to do with the song but I imagine Vox's love for vel in this to be just as strong as lens love for Rin is in this song. And the song makes me wish for so much more vox and vel content in s2, i need to see their relationship up close. They have such power duo potential and I hope it won't be wasted.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #vox #hazbin vox #velvete #hazbin velvette #hazbin hotel velvette #vel and vox as siblings #i kinda made some tgings up on the spot #but most things i have been thinking of for a bit #Spotify

[postguiltypleasures]

My Peak TV Journey *What We Do in the Shadows*

I took notes while watching season five of What We Do in the Shadows hoping I’d be able to post something in a timely manner. By most people’s standards I haven’t, but by my own, maybe? I liked this season better than the fourth. I can’t honestly say if it’s because it was better, or I was just in a better place. In someways the seasons were interesting reflections in each other. Partially because of this, I think the series should wrap up next season. 

One of my complaints about last season is that I got bored with the child version of Colin Robinson before the plot wrapped up. I missed adult Colin’s effect in the group and just wasn’t in the mood for a season long “the more things change, the more they stay the same” plot. While Colin was restored to his adult self with all the group dynamics that come with it (and no memory of the past year) there was the possibility of another “more things change, the more they stay the same” plot with Guillermo’s uneasy transition to being a vampire. But this time the act of restoring the status quo by making Guillermo a human again, has the potential to really change everything. Who is Guillermo if he no longer wants to be a vampire? How does he fit in with the group? Or does he reject it entirely. 

Appropriately while Guillermo’s attempt to transition from human to vampire is stagnant, things between him and Nandor become more overtly romantic than in previous seasons. But this is with the added tension because Guillermo going to another vampire to be turned was the biggest betrayal he could do to Nandor. The climax where Nandor finds out after pretty much everyone else, and understands exactly why this transition hasn’t gone well the how to complete it has a sensitivity that is unexpected. And the fact that he can tell Guillermo ultimately doesn’t want to directly take human life, is tender. 

The season saw more of Guillermo’s family than previous seasons, which made the reversion to his human state make more sense emotionally.  In his semi human/semi vampire state he sought help from Laszlo who proceeded to perform freaky experiments on him. They did not shed light on his condition, but they included some very freaky animal hybrids, (who I hope we see more of next season) and an opportunity for Laszlo to use Guillermo’s sweat as a vampire sun screen. Unrelated to Laszlo’s experiments, there was a scene where a shocked Guillermo trips booby traps that Colin Robinson set up through the house while Wagner’s “Ride of the Valkyries” plays in the background. It was ridiculous. It made me happy. 

Speaking of Laszlo, is it just me or was his screen time reduced this season? If so why? Was it to give Matt Berry a break for personal reasons? Was it a concerted decision to prevent the series form becoming The Laszlo Cravensworth Show? At the very, least he does not currently appear to be driving plot. In the previous two seasons he was aiding Colin Robinson in his respective end of life and beginning of life phases. Here he was helping Guillermo with his stalled transition. It could be a sign of Lazslo’s character being the friendliest of the bunch, but I doubt it.  None of these characters are exactly humane. 

Following up Laszlo’s lack of driving plot, it’s worth noting how little he had to do with his lady wife Nadja this season. The plot in which they interacted the most involved him struggling to make a good impression on her new human friends from Little Antipaxos, where she enjoyed getting to know contemporary people from her homeland. He eventually, inadvertently convinces them that he is the the incarnation of a legendary, piggish figure. But their general lack of conflict and interaction also made a kind of sense for Nadja’s plot. In previous seasons she regularly railed against a cursed hat Laszlo had and refused to get rid of. Last season wrapped up the cursed hat story, and so this season had Nadja thinking she was hexed in her pre-vampire life. While curses definitely exist in the WWDITS world, the show starts the storyline explicitly saying that the events that led her to think she was cursed were really the result of how much inebriated blood she drank while running a club last season. The attempts to reverse the curse led her to Little Antipaxos,  teaching about citizenship in a community college, and getting scammed by a “magic woman” who really wanted her preferred Dunkin’ Donuts to serve her again. I enjoyed all of this. 

I am glad that Colin Robinson is an adult again. I loved his short reunion with his energy vampire girlfriend Evie while running for political office. I also enjoyed seeing him as a waiter and how upset he got when the too interesting. 

Finally, Kristen Schall’s Guide was bumped up to a regular character this season. I think she had a similar amount of screen time this season as last, but she did drive more plot. Notably, she gave Nadja the “clues” to “prove” that she was really cursed. This turned out to be a punishment for the ways in which Nadja ignored her as a potential female friend. As much as I like Nadja, I am one hundred percent Team The Guide in this conflict. The dynamics of the characters can be described as cliques within cliques. Nadja and Laszlo’s marriage is a clique. Laszlow’s, Nadja and Nandor are a clique as the classical vampires who have been living together. Guillermo is in a clique with the classical vampires against Colon as he can feed off of all of them and they hate him for that, etc. having the Guide, who’s always known they were detached from the world, but now recognizes them as her only option for long term companionship, is exactly the kind of situation for which this show exists.

#peak tv #my peak tv journey #what i'm watching #what we do in the shadows #WWDITS #nandor the relentless #guillermo de la cruz #nandor x guillermo #colin robinson #laszlo cravensworth #nadja of antipaxos #nadja x laszlo #the guide

[knight-princess]

Willow month: TV Show (Full Series/Specific Episode) or Movie

Look you guys know the movie was a whole lot of fun and I absolutely adored the whole series, but for the sake of this event I decided to pick an episode to talk about in more detail instead of “the show was fucking awesome and made me loose my mind” (which I could do for days, and have been doing, how long have I had this side blog, six months? More? Who even knows and I still find things to talk about) and on top of that I’m gonna have to be predictable: Beyond the Shattered Sea

This is such a good episode. It was probably my most rewatched of any of the episodes of the show, with the Wildwood as a close second

All of the characters have important moments in their arcs in this episode, and the writing, directing and acting is on full display, and it’s all immaculate. From Elora and Willow’s training sessions (“so, what did we learn?”/“that you’re a little mean?”/“sure” lol have I mentioned I love their dynamic so much?) to Kit and Jade’s flirty sparring (I could watch for hours), to Boorman’s agonising over the Cuirass and the Lux (seeing him, alone, attempt to get it to work and it not work was such a goddamn heartbreaking scene) to Graydon’s beautiful love confession (he and Elora training together also: pure adorableness) and Kit and Elora jumping off the edge of the world, together, united, finally, I loved every minute of it. For the Glory instantly became a favourite song, Kenneth (“I shall name you Kenneth, after the protagonist of the romantic farce I’m writing” Graydon I love you), just all of it. Truly a stellar episode for the characters and the story

But it’s the setting that sets the episode apart for me

This. The Shattered Sea that no one has ever crossed, where all the maps end. Image credit to @hgstuff for the gorgeous headers. I cannot get enough of looking at these. From the stark and desolate emptiness to the breathtakingly beautiful, the Shattered Sea is a peak location for a pre finale episode. And then the way all the characters have to reckon with things deep inside themselves as they make their way across the vast unknown. The way they set off with the mudmander sleigh, but you can’t make it across that way: you have to walk it, on your own two feet. The journey across the Shattered Sea is your own to walk; no one can do it for you. The way it’s set up is great too. The foreboding, the ominous way it’s described and set up by Zeb, that he and his fellows walked for days, for years, till their swords rusted and they went mad and turned on each other, murdered each other . . . That the sea goes on forever. And then to be on it, the endless shallow water, far as the eye can see. The lack of discernible time. The way the unending, unvarying uniformity begins to feel oppressive - but, just as it is oppressive and smothering, so too is it beautiful

The way the starry sky is reflected in the water is one of the most gorgeous visuals I think I have ever seen in anything ever, and it’s backdrop to a lovely scene between Kit and Elora. It’s in this conversation you can really feel that connection, see it, that growing bond. The cliff at the edge of the world is wonderful and such an interesting premise, the leap of faith you have to take to get to the Immemorial City. And the way Kit and Jade have their romantic moment silhouetted against a sunset just exploding with colour. It’s a beautiful, fascinating setting and I adored every bit of it

So yeah. Fabulous episode all round really

#willow 2022 #willowmonth2023 #savewillow #save willow

[pushywombat]

Storm

Part Ten

He should charge his phone.

He has to charge his phone.

If Danny got that text, he'll respond, or call in a panic, and he'll freak out when Ethan can't respond. If he didn't get the text... please please please let it have gone through. But if it didn't, with a charged phone, Ethan can try again.

There's a charger by the TV. It's only a few feet away, but to Ethan, that feels like a bold and almost impossible journey. He'll have to crawl, pausing more than he moves for contraction after contraction, and hope the window of usefulness is still long enough when he gets there to find the cable and plug in his phone. And... wait... trickle...

...what?

It's coming from between his legs. Trickle... trickle... drip-drip-drip... drip-drip... trickle... Is he peeing? No. He just used the bathroom, and his bladder doesn't feel full, and anyway it's not... coming from there...

He wastes the entire window trying to understand what's happening. Maybe a second before the next contraction hits, he thinks, Is that my water? And then - pain. Pressure. GUSH. Fluid splashes on the towels between his feet, and doesn't stop dripping after. He bellows; the pressure is so much stronger now, restless, moving, going down. He realises, partway through, that he wants to be upright, and drags himself forward until he can grab the arm of the sofa for support.

There. Better. Now... open up...

The window of usefulness closes after that. The contractions just keep coming, and all he can manage between them is rest, breathe, maybe shift position a little. His phone lies dead on a towel behind him, forgotten. There's nothing left, for Ethan, except the hard, agonising squeeze of his muscles, and the growing awareness of the baby's head, moving a little lower with each wave of pain.

He loses track of time completely. He has no idea how long it's been when he feels it.

Something shifts. The restless pressure starts to get... urgent... but the urgency fades as the contraction comes to an end, leaving him a little frustrated on top of the breathlessness. He wants... he wants... he's not sure what, but he wants it.

The next contraction grips him, and he feels it again. Urgency. Going down. Even the rolling squeeze of his muscles feels a little more downish, and as the contraction builds he thinks, I want I want I want but can't quite complete the thought.

Building. Building. I want. I want. I need... to...

He grips the arm of the sofa. His chin drops to his chest, and his knees spread as wide as they can go on the towel. He can't think of anything except slow, solid downward movement, incremental but inexorable, until at last the contraction hits its peak and he feels something new. Like a voice, soft but insistent, speaking up from between his legs.

...push?...

Oh no.

...push?...

No no.

...puush?...

Not yet. Please. Danny isn't here, he thinks. No one's here. Please, not yet. I'm not ready.

His body fairly screams at him: I AM!

...puuuuush...

He sucks in a quick, panicky, sobbing breath, and forces it out, but the urge is getting stronger.

Here she comes.

#birth kink #birth fic #trans mpreg #labor kink

[queerjesusthelord]

I've been thinking about her

You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened: why did they do what they did, was there some logic in it, were we so furious because of the denial, as we were unable to accept the forlorn finale and why did it hurt that much so nobody could recover from it till now.

It’s been two years, guys. Two years of re-reading Luke Jennings books, writing songs and dedicating them to VillanEve, doom scrolling post about them, about all the anger fans still got for Laura Neal and the shitty ending (as Villanelle would say with a sexy Russian accent). 

I was listening to my beloved Unloved soundtrack of course, all this time. I’ve been on their concert in Paris recently and felt euphoric as I was sinking into Eve and Villanelle love story again and again through their divine music. Every word and sound reflected with my whole body and soul – it was ineffable. Every time I listen to “I’ve been thinking about her” it brings me to tears. I genuinely want this song to play at my funeral one day.

Well, I did my best to remain in this state of equanimity and kinda succeed. But a couple of months ago I decided to re-watch KE from season 1 and here is what happened. I happily binge-watched all three seasons and it felt like home – a perfect comfort zone, a way of my escapism. I even discovered a place where they shoot Villanelle’s apartment (here in Paris), I walked there, secretly got into the courtyard – it was AMAZING – visualizing what happened there in the 1st season, remembering their dialogue with Eve – “I think about you all the time” and stuff. It was comme la presence de Villanelle and I felt so happy and inspired there.

Lately I realised that I’ve been struggling, not wanting to re-watch the goddamn last season. Why the fuck it was so hard? I just can skip the last 5 minutes and et voilà – it would be just perfect. Plus dearest Luke Jennings has been writing and posting his new book about Villanelle and Eve (RESURRECTION) since November 2023, so we know that in his book they got their happy ending and their love story goes on, so it’s good news, right? We have something to rely on “more rock than sand” and it sounds so easy…

But frankly it’s not – I couldn’t pretend I did not see it – the ending they’ve made. I didn’t want to be in this denial any more. I was so angry, I didn’t want to go through it again. But I wanted to see the kiss, to feel their love, to embrace this fucking finale as well. The mixed up feelings were bothering me much so I decided to contemplate on them more, to write this down and here’s what I got.

For me this show, the VillanEve story, was very personal. And it started way long before the book. The book was a cure to find my peace AFTER I watched the ending, so I think it is what it is: the show is one thing and the book is another. I cannot pretend they are the same, like “Villanelle’s death was never meant to be in the book so fuck Laura Neal and her interpretation”. It’s fucking painful but I need to admit it – they ruined my favourite show, something I really loved and I feel so miserable I cannot simply rewatch it from time to time (like Twin Peaks for instance) to feel cheerful and happy KNOWING what awaits me in the end. It’s not a comfort zone anymore, it is a pure Hélène style torture. 

I’ve never felt so attached to the heroes before. I mean, I watch a lot of tv shows and movies, and I easily emphathysise to every story I love. But THIS was different. It was a mind-blowing love-journey, irrational, psychotic, driven, crazy, fun, epic, passionate, surreal, iridescent and QUEER. I NEVER felt so seen and understood on the deepest level by just WATCHING the show. VillanEve resonates with my personal life and fantasies and I was glad that I found it. I’m more of a visual person, so it was crucial for me to be able to WATCH it, to see the performance of Sandra and Jodie and their desperate game with unresolved sexual tension where should, no, MUST have been the glorious end game. The happy ending for them and for all of us. Not just us queers, but all the people.

This show was twisted, sexy and fun from the very beginning – thanks to ingenious Phoebe Waller-Bridge. And it should have stayed like that and ended like that. It shouldn’t have to be a torture. It’s not Game of Thrones for christ sake. Besides, the story of The Twelve was screwed up too, and I will explain why.

We have a lot of this political shit in life already. Right parties, fucked up capitalism, like Russian government and its dictature. It’s no fun guys, this is really frightful and disastrous. So I believe we people do need some kind of an inspiration, a hope in the shows we watch – so we can take this hope to our lives and keep it, lean on it. In dark times like this it would be really helpful and right – so they should have caught the The Twelve gang and crush it, end it for good. But they (producers) fucked it all up so it’s quite impossible to be unfucked. 

They ruined the VillanEve AND the fiction fantasy itself. It was the Author and the Twink death at once. Why not choosing an open ending if you had no idea how to end the show? The open final is always a good way, for me it’s all about respecting your audience. Think David Lynch way. Open endings give you a possibility to rewatch the show and come up with new ideas and interpretations. But they screw this one too.

So no, I think will never accept the finale. I will be grieving for a long long time. Until some director or a show runner who loves VillanEve as much as I do, makes a come-back to fix this shit.

#killing eve #eve x villanelle #killing eve thoughts #killing eve insights #killing eve theories #eve x oksana #eve x villanelle kiss #ke season 4 #ke spoilers #villaneve #villanelle #eve polastri #oksana astankova #Luke jennings #Unloved #KE ending #killing eve finale #fuck Laura neal #I've been thinking about her #killing eve anniversary

[fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic]

Good Omens Fic Rec: Epistolary

“Dear Diary, Today I encountered that most interesting phenomenon that is pornographic cinematography." Or Crowley discovers Aziraphale's personal diaries. What starts as some light reading about the 14th century (which wasn't light at all, oh, and I suppose the 'pornographic cinematography' as well) slowly turns into something *much more* complex.

Length: 93,801

AO3 Rating: Explicit / Spice Level 🔥🔥🔥🔥

Best for: At Home, Angst, Romance, Through the Ages

Triggers: None

Read it here, fic by imposterssyndrome

*Minor Spoilers* In this story we are post season 2 and Crowley discovers Aziraphale's private diaries. I could have read an entire fic solely of these Aziraphale diary entries. They were beautifully written and I love the descriptions of his sketches. I sometimes forget it’s canon that he keeps a diary and draws very well. It’s nice to not only be reminded, but have a story use that fact to its full advantage. Please fan artists, I'm begging you to draw out the scenes from the 14th century. It’s so tender! Oh the yearning!!

Crowley has excellent chemistry with Nina, Maggie and Muriel here. I loved him softening up to them and allowing himself to have friends. Nina especially was written excellently. Crowley and Nina are very similar so are able to trust and find common ground easily. Maggie recommending Crowley new music was a wonderful idea that now I must headcanon. Though most of the music featured was not to my personal taste (sorry!), the lyrics were excellently picked! It was a clever use of the canon way Crowley affects the music and tv screens around him. Somehow the music knows exactly what's going on inside him as he reads through the diaries.

I love the way this works as a through the ages type of story through the diary entries. We get a peak at their past and they finally break down their own version of events. We all know one of their core issues is miscommunication. Here it takes that concept and runs with it, forcing them to acknowledge where they made mistakes and assumed rather than understood. It's such a great idea to have them able to express themselves better through writing rather than talking. I admit that even in my life it's way easier to have a text conservation about important things. Don't worry they'll find their way through it eventually. Some entries will gut you, others will leave you giddy with love and laughter. You will definitely be engaged for the entire journey.

This stands somewhere in between a safe in public/at home read. There are sex scenes, but you're given a heads up incase you want to skim/skip. I read this mostly in public on my phone, but I think it falls a little more on the better to be at home side.

Read it here, fic by imposterssyndrome

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanfic #fanfic rec #aziracrow #good omens fic rec #aziraphale x crowley #Epistolary #imposterssyndrome #four flames #at home #post s2 #long #angst #romance #through the ages #love confessions

[searchingforakeythatdoesntexist]

To cope with Good Omens season 2 finale… or not – Halloween![Miraculous X Good Omens]

Context : for Halloween, Cat Noir, Good-Omens-tv-show-fan, is dressed as Crowley, and discovers that his Lady is dressed as Aziraphale... but she has only read the book. Long story short, he convinces her to watch the show with him and let’s just say...season 2 finale hits hard.

– Why is everyone in hysterics about this show? The book is great, but not high drama.🤨

– My Lady, you haven’t seen the season 2 finale. 😏

several episodes later

- Oh, Bugaboo, will you manage to get over it ?🥲

– Sh...Shut up .😖

(My journey with a Graphic Tablet Pad : Day 51)

More details about this Halloween Project : here!

Costumes sneak-peak right here !

Little "Piece of Cake❤️" Halloween comic right there!

Bonus!

Sometimes i finally prefer the first version without colors... This is sad, this coloured one took me 5 days, more or less.

#Halloween #Miraculous #Miraculous ladybug #Chat noir #Ladybug #Adrien #Marinette #LadyNoir #AdriNette #Ml #MLB #Good Omens #Gomens #Art #My art #Illustration #Cute #Miraculous fandom #my Miraculous art #Elenthya&MiraculousArt #ElenthyaAndMiraculous

[dc418writes]

Diamonds vs Stones

✨Pairing✨: sugardaddy!Lloyd Hansenxsugarbaby!black!reader

Summary🪄: Overhearing a conversation makes you question your relationship

⚠️: age gap (reader is in mid to late twenties, Lloyd is in early 40s), lil angsty, kinda ends in fluff though (Lloyd’s actually a little sweet), mention of nudity, degrading Harvard women, mention of bullying, mentions of happy adult fun times, spanking

A/N🎙: Hey guys! So the topics in this I feel like is a bit of a different direction for me and what I usually write (at least I’d say so since I’m mostly all fluff with a touch of PG-13 lol). And I’m saying all that to ultimately be honest in hoping that it’s not cringey or anything, and of course if there’s any warnings/labeling of characters I’m missing to please let me know

Bare feet padding closer and holding two freshly opened beers, you softly smile to yourself hearing the two men in the entertainment room alternating between cheering and berating—well, more so berating—those in uniforms and helmets on the tv scattering along the green field. They weren’t able to do it much, but whenever Lloyd and Danny Carmichael were able to hang out, it always made your heart swell. It was like watching an adorable play date between children that just so happened to include talks of recent targets and new torture methods.

“Gentlemen,” you nod setting the sweating bottle on the coaster next to an appreciative Carmichael before walking behind the leather sectional to set your boyfriend’s in his hand.

“Thank you ma poupée (my little doll),” Lloyd smiles gently patting your bottom as you turn to walk away. A short giggle escaping your lips when he winks and blows you a kiss you happily return. “Sure you don’t want to watch the game with us sunshine?”

“If you can call it a game really,” Danny chuckles along with his closest friend before taking a long sip from his bottle.

“No it’s okay, I’ll let you boys have your time together. Plus there’s a pie in the oven that needs tending to.”

Collecting the empty bottles, you’re just outside the cracked door about to journey further down the hall to the kitchen when the mention of your name in their conversation peaks your interest. Should you be eavesdropping? No, but they’ll never find out.

“Y/N’s a real sweetheart.”

“Yea,” Lloyd smiles setting down his now half full bottle. “I lucked out with that one.”

“Can always count on the infamous Lloyd Hansen to find someone to lick his wounds whether it was after a game in college or now after a mission,” his closest friend grins stretching his arms along the back of the couch. “All of them so desperate and willing to be the one to heal ole Sniper.”

Excuse me?

“Like I was the only one. Pretty sure I remember getting blown off more than a couple times when you found a few friends yourself.” The lean man only smiles to himself removing his glasses to clean a smudge from the corner.

“That’s the thing about Harvard women. They might have high IQs, but they have extremely low self esteems.”

“And even higher libidos.”

Hearty chuckles rumble through their chests as they clink their bottles together before their berating starts again due to a terrible play resulting in an interception. You don’t hear anymore of their nostalgic memories, quickly strutting to the kitchen and roughly tossing the empty glasses into the garbage.

Was that all you were to him? Just a desperate groupie of sorts eager to be used?

“I most certainly am not,” you state to yourself frustratedly tapping your foot as you wait for the timer to finish on your currently browning dessert.

“Y/N doesn’t compare to those ‘I never felt pretty because I was bullied in middle school’ minnows though. She’s in a league of her own.” Hearing his friend so smitten over someone has a proud warmth spreading along his chest.

Whether Lloyd would admit it or not, Carmichael knew wedding bells were surely on the horizon.

“You better stay on your toes then. Anyone could be looking to swoop in.” The assassin doesn’t quite like the way those words sound spilling from his partner’s alcohol tinged lips, turning in his seat with muscular arms crossed in front of his chest.

“I’d like to see them try.”

“Relax I wasn’t talking about me. What kind of friend do you think I am?,” Carmichael lightly shakes his head. “Although I can’t say I wouldn’t try if you weren’t in the picture.”

Just as quick as he finishes his sentence, Lloyd has his pocket knife brandished reflecting the light from the chandelier over head as he tilts it back and forth.

“Please don’t make me ruin this couch. We just got it from Milan.”

-

“Thank you for everything Y/N. And that pie?! Incredible.”

“Well thank you I’m glad you liked it,” you smile handing him a small Tupperware with a couple more slices. “And it’s no problem. You’re family and family always gets taken care of here.”

“Such the little hostess,” Lloyd whispers in your ear as his strong hand on your waist brings you closer into his side. His pink lips tenderly pressing against your temple before his attention turns toward his friend. “So, same time next week?”

“Afraid not. I’ll be out the country dealing with some things, but I’ll let you know when I’m back.”

Wishing each other a good night, you both watch to make sure Danny makes it to his Porsche—tossing a final wave or two—and out the seemingly mile long driveway off the compound before going back into the warmly lit mansion. Lloyd’s mouth attached to your neck the whole time as he follows you into the kitchen with his body pressed firmly into your back and hands roaming and gripping from your chest to your core.

You’d easily be putty right now practically begging him to ruin you if it weren’t for his earlier words ringing in your ears.

“Lloyd please, I need to clean up,” you state immediately halting his lips and making him lift his head with furrowed brows.

“Correct me if I’m wrong-and don’t bother because I know I’m right…but Lloyd is not a name for you to call me sunshine.” The way his hand grips your chin turning your face towards him is a warning, but you could care less feeling extra bold tonight.

“So when someone asks me your name what am I supposed to say? Honeybuns?”

His chuckle isn’t an amused one.

“Don’t play dumb, it’s not a cute look on you.” His grip tightens causing a squeak of a whimper to crawl up your throat, meanwhile his other hand pulls a cherry from the nearby bowl to place on his tongue. “Now we had a good day; had a nice visit from a friend. Don’t ruin it by giving me a headache yea?”

“…I’m sorry.”

Narrowing his eyes, he doesn’t fully believe you are. He can tell something’s ticking behind those doe-like brown eyes, but he’s willing to let it go being in an overall good mood.

He pulls you closer to kiss your lips before letting your chin go. His long legs sauntering to the circular dinner table to take a seat. “Prove it by getting me another slice of pie chérie (darling).”

Oh, you’ll get a slice alright.

Cutting a good hunk of a piece, you place it in the microwave for a few seconds to make sure it was warmed to his liking before moving to get the whip cream from the fridge. You flash him a cheeky smile not so innocently licking the leftover white cream from your finger you gathered along the nozzle. A slight moan vibrating your chest while his oceanic eyes never leave you and fingers drum along the hardwood.

You step closer and closer with hips gently swaying until you’re standing in front of the now smirking man. He thinks he’s got it all figured out, but oh how wrong he was.

“If someone’s feeling extra needy for her monstre (monster) now that she finally has him all to herself, all she has to do is say so rather than try to brat her way into getting what she wants.”

Flashing your fakest smile, you easily tip the plate until the whip cream, crust, and the caramelized apples inside fall onto Lloyd’s crotch causing him to groan from the uncomfortable heat on his sensitive area. It’s nothing compared to the heat radiating from his skin and angry glare that bore into your soul though.

Stand strong, it’ll be worth it. You might die, but it’ll be worth it.

“Wouldn’t exactly say needy is how I’m feeling right now.”

In the blink of an eye, your wrists are held behind your back and body twisted until your front is pressed against the table. Your flowy, flower printed summer dress flipped up to expose your lacy clad bottom as your cheek uncomfortably rests on a placemat. You try to wiggle free, but his hand strongly smacking your bottom once then twice has you stilling and “ow’s” falling from your mouth.

“What’s your problem?! Not get enough attention when all I’ve done today is dote on and compliment my darling girl?!” Another smack. “Say how wonderful of a hostess and housewife you were.” Smack. “Fill her up just how she likes not once, but twice today!”

The next few smacks are harder than the others making tears drip down your face twisted in pain.

“Would’ve been three, but now I’m thinking three weeks with nothing!” Watching you softly sob while your body trembles with each additional blow has a demented smile creeping along his lips. “Aww don’t cry now sunshine. And you know what? For safe measures, maybe I should use the plugs? Take away your toys too so you don’t get any ideas. Even try to hunt down a chastity belt..and don’t think I can’t sunshine!”

“T-Then I guess y-you’ll find some other d-desperate chick to lick your wounds,” you manage to speak having controlled your cries long enough. His hand hangs beside his body for a few moments before meeting your sore, and surely reddened, bottom one last time causing you to helplessly yelp.

His muscular frame easily allows him to maneuver your body that you’re now facing him with soaked lashes and an indented cheek—along with throbbing lower ones. His palm caressing the side of your throat and thumb gently grazing the hollow spot at its base gives your body a moment to reset and relax knowing this was now “nurturing” Lloyd in control.

“Mm..being nosy,” he calmly states as your hands nervously wrung behind you.

“O-Or you talk loud…” Beginning to knead the back of your neck with his warm fingertips, it makes your heart pick up its pace anticipating his grip to tighten and your vision to eventually become blurry any minute now.

Instead though..he just grins to himself, and you dare not move, speak, or do anything unsure of his next step. That was his speciality after all, keeping everyone—including his own men at times—guessing and on their toes.

He claimed things were more fun that way.

“Well if that were the case, you would’ve heard how those past women don’t deserve the be in the same room as you, nor can they hold a candle to the ethereal beauty and existence that is you my dear.”

“…really?,” you quietly ask. Your curled lashes fluttering and mouth set in that adorable pout Lloyd would eagerly kill for.

“Do you think I’d be so incompetent to waste my precious time gladly spending hundreds and thousands of dollars on someone who I knew didn’t deserve it?” Your shrug causes a sigh to slip past his lips seemingly annoyed that you weren’t getting it already.

“Those women were only good for one thing, and after? They were gone faster than a sack of roadkill at a hillbilly convention. But you, my infuriating gumdrop, the moment I saw you there was nothing more that I wanted to do than give you my time. My money. My love. Everything I could offer that I knew no other man ever could.”

The brush of his soft lips against your forehead, cheeks, and finally resting on your lips has a giggle erupting from your chest and a new pep coursing up your spine. It’s immediately replaced by guilt though at nearly burning your love’s family jewels.

Your arms wrap around his neck raising on your tip toes to carefully peck up from his neck to his jaw and that spot below his earlobe only you knew of. It was the tell tale beginning of one of your apologies that would lead to you begging to make it up to him and a very long night that ran into the early morning.

“I’m sorry my maniacal bon bon. I just overheard and then it made me feel like-like…nothing. As if you’d easily get rid of me at any moment like the others.”

“But you should’ve known better sunshine. What do I always promise hm?”

“To take care of me.”

“And haven’t I been doing a good job?”

“Better than good!,” you smile excitedly pouncing onto his body like a koala on its favorite tree. His hands grasp under your thighs to steady you as you shower the smooth skin of his smiling face in kisses.

“I know,” he chuckles passionately meeting your lips once more before tapping your already tender bottom for you to get down. “Now, you know your little tantrum hurt daddy..”

“I know.” Your downcast gaze towards the tiled floor below is interrupted by his large hand gripping your chin and forcing your eyes to his calm ones.

“So what happens next?”

“I get punished like the ungrateful brat I chose to be,” you sigh.

“Very good! For that I’ll try to go easy on you,” he winks patting your bottom and causing you to whimper. “You are gonna clean up this mess, and my pants, while I enjoy the lovely view. All the while in proper attire of course.” That meant fully nude and gagged so you couldn’t complain even if you wanted to.

And if Lloyd was feeling extra cruel, that could mean the special panties only he could control. Luckily it didn’t seem like he was in that kind of mood tonight.

“Then after I say you’re done,” he explains removing his white pants and tossing them at your feet before sitting cross-legged in the metal chair, “I’ll fix you a nice bath and be sure to pay close attention to my sweetest peach.”

His hand soothingly rubbing up and down your bottom makes it hard to leave feeling yourself getting lost in the comfort. You know you need to move though, and soon, if you want that bath and more of his strong hands all over you—in a caring, loving way that is.

“Thank you honeybuns.”

“Of course sunshine, now hurry up before that stain sets.”

Taglist: @fumbling-fanfics @honeychicana @themyscxiras @lady-olive-oil @melinda-january @lovelymari4 @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @lovebittenbyevans @theartisticqueen @chrisevans-world @literaturelove @ivorylei @elrw24 @pono-pura-vida @yinx1 @justile @sunsetfreedom05 @jackiekae @luvingmyships @give-me-a-million-dollars-pls @bekinds @maxcullen @curlyhairclub @plokyu23 @fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression @nunubug99 @felicity-x0 @ellixthea @jojolu @jnk-812 @captainsamwlsn @wildfirecracker @nina-sj @iammyownlover @chaneajoyyy @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss @damnitaa @literaturefeen @bamondomesticity @scoop93535 @secretmysteriousperson

If anybody wants to be tagged, has asked to be tagged but don’t see your name, only want to be tagged for certain people I write for (can be found in masterlist), or no longer wish to be tagged just let me know! Also if you’d rather opt to turn on my page notifications, that’s perfectly fine too🤓!

#lloyd hansen #Lloyd hansenxblack reader #Lloyd hansenxwoc #Lloyd hansenxreader #the gray man #chris evans #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x woc!reader

[roseverie]

is there anything on your to read list? plus movie recommendations? The recent tag game you did and the movie you mentioned looks so lovely 🫶🏻

I’ve answered some questions like this in the past that may be helpful— poetry recs and a past to read list here <3 But I also regularly add to my list, just the last few recently added…

- Wrong Norma by Anne Carson, The Library of Night by Alberto Manguel, Biography of X by Catherine Lacey, In the Dream House by Carmen Maria Machado, The Easy Life by Marguerite Duras. Also have some manga I would like to get to…

Besides the one I mentioned in the tag I haven’t actually been watching much films recently lol (I’ve been watching tv shows more) but I have faves mentioned here, and some more that I forgot to add to that first list:

- My Own Private Idaho (1991) / Crimson Peak (2015) / Girl, interrupted (1999) / The Assassin (2015) / The Banquet (2006) / House of Flying Daggers (2004) / Angel’s Egg (1985) / Black Swan (2010) / Possession (1981) / Suzhou River (2000) / Long Day's Journey into Night (2018)

#replied #hope you have a lovely day x