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cheriladycl01 · 1 year ago

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So, you lied to me? - Lando Norris x Tourist! Reader

Plot: Going on a travel year you end up in Monaco, the plan wasn't too fall for the man who helped you to the British Embassy and gave you a place to stay when someone stole everything from you ...

You took a gap year before university and decided to travel you'd started off the New Year on a flight from London, to Qatar to New Zealand. You travelled around New Zealand and Australia for the majority of January, before moving on to Papa New Guinea, Fiji and Samoa.

You then travelled round the South Asian countries, like Indonesia, Singapore, Thailand, Vietnam and the Philippines and Taiwan all throughout February. You then moved onto China, doing both Disney Parks while you were there and sight seeing. You did South Korea and Japan.

Coming into April, you moved onto Sri Lanka and India, and The Middle East, doing Dubai, Abu Dhabi, Bahrian, Qatar, Oman and Saudi Arabia.

Afterwards, now having done 2 continents, you moved onto Africa, you spent the end of April and the majority of May travelling here, before leaving for Europe.

A nice 2 weeks island hopping around Greece, before a week travelling up the boot of Italy.

It was when you drove to Monaco in a rental car that things got difficult.

You were walking along the harbor where all the expensive yachts were docked wishing that one could be yours. You didn't have all your bags on you, the larger ones left behind in the hotel room you'd booked for the night. But you had your important stuff on you, like you passport, your drivers license and all your travel documents.

You were taking a picture on your nice Canon camera of the yachts and the street that had weird red corners rounding it that you put down to being measures to just help drivers slow down round the corners, but they were definitely an eyesore.

Every time nice cars drove by there was whistles and claps that made you look at what car it was, you could never tell what model it was but they looked nice and you guess you could say sporty.

As you were distracted taking your pictures a guy comes up to you with a small, parcel cutting knife in his hand. He slit the straps of what you thought was a really sturdy bag and the weight notifies you to the loss of the bag. You let your camera drop as you turn to see the guy now holding your bag and starting to run away with it.

"Hey! Stop" you shout before running after him.

"Aide, Aide" you shout as you continue to follow him, your minimal French not helping as people scold you for being a bustly tourist.

You aren't really looking where you going and you loose him at a busy intersection of people, you spin round looking at every possible direction he could have gone in.

"Shit!" you whisper to yourself quietly tears coming in your eyes. You spin round a little to quickly, bumping into someone who drops the bag that they were holding.

"Désolé, mon erreur" you try looking at the young gentleman you'd bumped into in a hoodie and jeans. He looks at you with a confused look, a smirk coming onto his face.

"Oh sorry, tu ne parles pas français? Maybe Italian, erm fuck scusa, parli italiano?" you ask with again the bare minimum of Italian you know.

"I speak perfectly good English" he smiles, laughing a little as your expression turns to shock.

"Oh! Oh I'm so stupid. Hello!" you smile looking at the very attractive man in front of you, you blushed a little looking up at him.

"You look panicked what's wrong?" he asks.

"I was tacking pictures of the harbor and some guy took my bag. It has everything in of mine and I don't know what to do" You say to him looking a little more panicked.

"Everything as in money ... because I can help with that" he says placing a hand on your arm.

"I don't care about the money, but he has all of my documents. My passport, my drivers license everything" you cry a little.

"Oh! Erm, I have a friend who was born here, and let me get him and he can help us file a police report. Then mmm the British Embassy is all the way in Paris and you cant get a flight so we'll have to drive there..." he starts to rant and your face turned shocked.

"We?" you ask, confused as to how this guy has just inserted himself into your life drama's.

"Oh yeah, I've gotta help you out now. You got that whole damsel in distress thing going on right now! Any way damsel, what's your name?" he jokes and you look over at him offended.

"I am not a damsel in distress! And Y/N" you retort.

"You so are, the tear stains, the wide, helpless eyes, the guppy fish face your pulling right now, the butchered French and Italian to a strange man who actually is British... Y/N" he laughs making you pout and push him a little.

"I don't even have a place to stay after 3pm today and I cant check in anywhere without ID" you say rubbing your head, looking around as if the man would randomly pop back up and hand you your bag back before saying how sorry he was.

"You can stay at my place, I have two spare bedrooms" he smiles and you look at him in shock.

"You live here, in Monaco ..." you ask.

"Yeah, I moved here a few years ago, for ...work" he offers, he phones his friend walking off for a few seconds alone before he pulls you along one of the side streets and too a quiet cafe he went to, to keep under wraps.

"Okay, Y/N this is my friend ... er Percy" he says pointing to Charles, so far you hadn't shown any signs of knowing who he is and he didn't want you to catch wind of that.

"Hello Percy, its nice to meet you" you smile and he looks at you with a vacant yet confused expression.

"Oh and whose this you are beautiful" you compliment looking at the girl behind him.

"Y/N this is my girlfriend Alex" Charles indicates to Alex behind him who smiles and pulls you in for a kind hug that you definitely needed. You could hear both of their strong accents as they introduced himself.

"Oh, I never got you name, what's your name?" you ask turning to look at Lando, who freezes for a second.

"Erm, my names Robert, but you can call me Bob" he smiles and you raise and eyebrow at him.

"Hmmm, you don't look like a Robert... or a Bob. Interesting choice" you voice your opinion making everyone awkwardly laugh.

Charles, Lando and Alex took you to the nearest police station in Monaco, Charles translated what they were saying and you answered to which he and Alex would help translate back.

Charles explained that they were escalating it because you are a tourist in need, but you picked up some words that made the sentence not sound like that at all.

You were asked if you had a place to say and Lando explained you'd be staying with him until everything was sorted out.

The Monegasque police got in contact with the Paris British Embassy for you, they explained that the police had sent over you information and if you wanted to hold off on a new passport for a few days to see if it would turn up you were more than welcome, but right now your passport was on lockdown.

And that was how you ended up spending the end of July and all of August with Lando, it was strange really. For a man who had and extremely nice collection of clothes and a very large apartment he didn't go to work often. There was one room you weren't allowed in which is where he often went, you assumed it was a man cave or gaming room where he played with his friends because you heard lots of shouting and aggressive banging.

He'd been so sweet, he took you on dates from going out to dinner, to picnics, to going swimming and lots more. It felt like more than a summer fling. Especially once he asked you to be his girlfriend, which you immediately said yes too.

But he got a lot more twitchy after he had.

Eventually, Lando or Bob as you knew him took you to Paris so you could get your passport. He explained that he travelled a lot for work and he would need to leave soon and you explained that before you bumped into him you'd been on a gap year travelling the world.

"Baby, why don't you come with me?" he asked randomly as you were both lying on the sofa, cuddling while watching a film.

"You wont even tell me what you do for work Baby! And besides I had a schedule that I'm already behind on. A week ago you said you didn't mind going our separate ways for a little bit until Christmas and then you'd come to England with me" you say playing with his curls.

"Okay, I'm going to be honest with you now... my name isn't Bob" he says shyly and you sit up at the speed of light turning to look at him.

"I knew it! So you lied to me?" you exclaim laughing.

"So, what's my boyfriends actual name?" you ask looking him dead in the eyes, he leans up on his elbows before sitting the full way up.

"Lando, I am Lando Norris" he smiles.

"Hmmmm, Lando... Lando. I could get used to that" you smile.

"You aren't mad?" he asks looking over you, brushing you hair back and tucking it behind your ear before kissing your cheek.

"I knew you weren't being completely honest when we first met... but I also knew you had your own reasons" you offer.

"I think its going to be easier if I just hand you my Instagram" he admits with a gulp as he hands you his phone. The first thing you notice is how many followers he had, there was around 10million and he had nearly 2,500 posts.

You look at the friends list, and one peeks your interest. Charles Leclerc, who looked exactly like Percy who Lando had introduced you too.

You then go back and look at his bio, that told you his actual job.

"So, I'm dating a super famous athlete?" you ask looking up at him away from the phone to see his head down in his hands. He turns to the side to sneak a look at your expression, his eyes a little glossy.

"To be specific, a Formula 1 driver" you ask again and he nods.

"You are such a muppet, my god" you laugh before pulling him into a hug.

"How aren't you upset with me?" he ask unsure.

"Well, I agreed to date you, because you are you. I doubt you change into Mr Hyde when you become a what was is Porsche race-car driver? I fell in love with you, not Bob, not Lando, you. So whether that is Bob, who kindly helped a crying lady on the street who just had her passport stolen from her, or Lando a cool and amazing race-car driver. Whoever you are is the person I love" you grin and he pulls you into a hug.

"So you want to join me for the last few races? Or you want to finish this world trip of yours?" he asks.

"Well, looking at your calendar, I can actually meet you at the rest of the races, While travelling. I'll continue to do Europe until you have the Netherlands, and ill go back to Italy, just for you. I'll miss Azerbaijan and Singapore because I did that, but I'll knock out some of South America, I'll meet you for Austin, then we can do Mexico and Brazil together, then we can do Vegas together! And by that point I can call it done with my trip!" you exclaim and he looks like he considers it for a second.

He's shocked, he cant remember the last time a girlfriend tried so hard to link up their schedules like this, and proved that they'd be able to work despite some potential scheduling issues.

"I love you. I fucking love you" he grins pulling you back down onto the sofa kissing all over your face making you giggle.

A/N: I've been doing a lot of Lando recently, I don't know if you can tell but I love writing about him, he's my fav to write about right now.

Taglist:

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ltwilliammowett · 21 days ago

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In today's door one of the prettiest and most famous Swedish East Indiaman - The Götheborg of Sweden

A little more info about her here:

The Götheborg of Sweden is a sailing replica of the Swedish East India ship Götheborg I, which was launched in 1738 (not to be confused with the larger Götheborg II, which was built a few decades later). All the sailors survived when the original ship sank off Gothenburg, Sweden, on 12 September 1745 as it approached the harbour on its return from a third voyage to China. Construction of the replica began in 1995, the hull was launched in 2003 and the rigging was fully tested for the first time in 2005. Much of the time was spent researching the reconstruction of the replica. In 2008, the Götheborg completed its first Baltic Sea tour. She is one of the largest operational wooden sailing ships in the world.

On 26 April 2023, she became known worldwide when she rescued a yacht at sea that had lost its rudder and drifted away.

#naval history #naval artifacts #advent calendar #day 17 #götheborg of sweden #i haad to put her in #18th century #age of sail #replica

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johnwickb1tsch · 2 months ago

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rager.

a donaka mark x reader x john wick disaster. 6475 words. warnings: the usual sex and violence, not necessarily in that order...

-Once upon a time, Donaka Mark might have loved you. Or at least, the closest thing to love a narcissist like him can manage. It was mostly lust, you suppose, and the novelty of discovering the unexplored corners of someone new. It didn’t take long for that to turn into possession, and the first time he let the mask slip, revealing the dark beast within, you knew you’d made a grievous error, putting yourself in this man’s hands.

He had no intention of ever letting you go.

-He liked to control every aspect of your day. What you ate. What you wore. Who you talked to. Where you went. How you exercised. How you fucked.

What had started as the most exhilarating carnal adventure of your life had devolved into degradation and fear.

You wanted to go home. The first time you told him this, he’d laughed in your face.

-He started bringing you to watch the matches in his underground fighting ring. To scare you, mostly, but maybe also to enforce what you already knew: Donaka Mark was not a man to be trifled with.

You’d been terrified, the first time you watched him snap a man’s neck for refusing to play out his demands for a live action Mortal Kombat show. After the fourth or fifth time…you just felt numb. It was later, that it scared you, when his massive hands cradled the globe of your head, and you knew he could break you like a twig. There was something about the almost clinical way he looked at you in those moments, and you were sure that deep down, a part of him wanted to.

-You are in the middle of one of your frequent spats, boarding a yacht that belongs to a Russian arms dealer, a friend of Donaka’s who greatly enjoys the illicit entertainment your paramour puts on offer. “Do you always have to be such a whore?”

You’d dared to take the hand offered you by one of the crew manning the speedboat that would ferry you out to the yacht moored in international waters. There had been a swell, and you were teetering on the four inch Red Bottoms Donaka had selected for you, and you absolutely would have fallen into the dark South China sea if the young man hadn’t caught you. Donaka was making it into something entirely fabricated by his own jealousy–lately, his favorite game, and he would punish you accordingly for his own amusement.

At the end of your rope, you foolishly snap back, “If I was a whore I’d be having a lot more fun than this.”

The fire in his eyes is like the fallout of an atom bomb. “You think so? That can be arranged, sweetheart.”

The blood in your veins turns to ice as once again, you realize your quick temper and fat mouth has pushed him too far. You try not to think about how once, it had felt like he meant it when he used that endearment for you, and how afraid you are for what he has in mind now.

-Credit where credit is due: no one throws a rager like the Russian Mob. The music is loud, the vodka flows like water, and there is dancing like this is their last night on earth. You make your way through the press of the crowd on his arm, Donaka glad handing like the charming snake he is, so very at home amongst these members of the Brotherhood, their wives, their girlfriends, and their whores. Once upon a time you would have been oblivious to it; but now, you sense the danger in the air like a coming storm. Some of the fighters in Donaka’s enterprise have this heaviness about them. A feeling that at any given moment, anything could go down. It makes your hair stand on end, and you can’t stop yourself from gripping Donaka’s arm harder. Once, he would have comforted you, patted your hand, paid you a reassuring smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Now the glance he throws you is cold and dark and treacherous as the deepest ocean trench.

Your heart sinks like a stone.

-You enter a lounge off the main deck that is filled with couches, tables, a bar, and so many Russians. They are dressed to the nines in suits that undoubtedly cost more than an economy car, but the scars and tattoos on their skin tell you exactly who they are. There are women too, beautiful, scantily clad ones, draped across laps and posted behind chairs rubbing shoulders. The men are talking boisterously, one of them telling a story and the others laughing uproariously. One of them pantomimes aiming a gun, and the spray of blood. It wins shouts of approval, raucous triumphant laughter, and more vodka poured.

-You notice that out of this entire brigata only one man sits quietly, a silent shadow who barely smiles, nodding his head but making no sound. He is heart wrenchingly handsome, in an all black suit and tie, and when he turns his gaze to you it is as though something shifts inside you; like his midnight dark eyes can see directly into your soul. You’ve seen him before, in the crowd at Donaka’s fights, a dark tower standing behind his otets like a guard dog ready to do what he must. You’re certain he’s a killer, even though you never spoke to him, never got this close to him–even then it was like a physical thread pulled your attention from across the crowded room. You simply could not look away.

-You only manage to tear your eyes away now when Donaka starts speaking to one of the older men seated in the crowd, shaking his hand. “Viggo Mikailovich, your friends throw the best parties.”

“We do what we can, Mr. Mark.” Viggo’s eyes turn to you, assessing you up and down with his heavy gaze while asking, “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Very much. I brought a little present for your boys.”

He pushes you firmly into the middle of the circle of the boisterously drunk men, and finally you realize what he intends as your punishment tonight. Eyes wide, you whirl to look at him, to beg him, but he’s already walking away on those long legs, smirking at you over his shoulder.

Bastard. Fucking bastard!

You don’t speak Russian, but you hear the excitement in the male voices behind you, around you, you feel the catcalls and dirty innuendos, the threat in their playful tones like oil upon your skin. You start to shake, with fear or rage, you do not know.

-You take a step as though to chase after Donaka, but an iron grip closes around your wrist. Startled, you look down to see the man in black with the soulful eyes has wrapped his–admittedly huge–hand around you. Caught in his gaze like a mouse hypnotized by a cobra, you stare down with fearful fascination. Please let me go?

The words die on your tongue. Somehow, you know they will do you no good.

You notice that the suggestive comments silenced the minute this man put a hand on you.

Who is he?

One of the men makes a plaintive statement, which the man in black answers succinctly, but with a resolve like stone. No one dares challenge him. You feel them fall back, like wolves retreating into the shadows of the trees. You look down at him, and you can hear your heartbeat thundering in your ears. You’d be a fucking fool to think he’s rescued you–but he’s not like the others. That much is clear. He holds your gaze as he kisses your knuckles without a word, and you feel your knees turn to jelly, your treacherous cunt fluttering in answer.

-He pulls you down–not unkindly, but leaving no room for argument. You find yourself slowly foldied into his lap, perched on his long legs, tucked into the warm curve of his solid torso. You know you have a screwloose, but something in the lizard part of your brain purrs, despite the bad situation you know you’re in. The lace hem of your little Dolce and Gabbana black dress has ridden up your thigh. You are flabbergasted as he smoothes it back down with a light-fingered touch. “Better?” he asks, his big hand on your knee, and you don't know why you’re surprised he speaks English. You are surprised he seems to give a damn about your comfort. “Yes. Thank you,” you say softly.

-You are practically nose to nose with this man. It’s been a long time since you were this close to a man who wasn't Donaka, the intoxicatingly warm spice of his cologne filling your nostrils. It gives the illusion of intimacy in the loud and crowded room. His answering smile is ever so slight–a barely detectable tick of the corner of his mouth.

He doesn't say anything else, turning his attention back to the revelers in his group, though his fingertips draw light, maddening lines across your bare shoulder, down your arm. You shudder, and his gaze slides back to you again. Embarrassed, you try to cover, “What are they saying?”

A long sigh escapes him, all the weight of the world in that slow expulsion of air. “You don't want to know.”

You get the feeling that this man is as tired of this world as you are, and for some crazy reason, you almost feel safe in his arms.

-You could melt into a puddle, when after a little while he turns back to you, catching your lips so gently with his that your toes curl inside your pumps. It’s like a breath of spring, like something that died in you comes back to life. There’s a slow-burning fire in his eyes, and he stands with you in his arms, setting you on your feet. “Come with me,” he says, and hand in hand you go to the bar, get a drink, and go deeper into the bowels of the boat. His friends bellow and tease him, as the two of you go. He waves them off with a little smile, answering with that brand of manly banter that translates across all languages, something in Russian to you that sounds like “Shut up, assholes.”

-You wander the crowded boat until you find a [relatively] quiet place at the stern. You lean on the gunwale together, shoulder to shoulder, watching the dark waves below as you nurse your drinks.

“So…what’s your name?” you ask, starting with the basics.

“John.”

You lift your eyebrows. “John?”

“It’s easier than Jardani.”

You look up at him, suddenly wondering how many parts of himself he's had to hide, to survive in his world.

“I can handle Jardani,” you say, and he smiles a little, but you feel like maybe you're the butt of the joke.

“What about you, pretty girl?”

“Y/n.”

He nods, peering down at you like he can mine all your secrets with a look.

“Y/n, you do not seem to belong here,” he ventures.

“I don’t think…any of the women do,” you answer. You know they’re sex workers, doing what they have to do, or what they’ve been forced to do–and you know you’re no better than any of them.

“You know what I mean. Where are you from?”

You tell him, and he nods like he already knew.

“And what did you do, before?”

“I…worked in an art gallery.” This makes him smile a little, inexplicably wistful.

“And how did Donaka Mark get his claws into you?”

“I was visiting a friend from school in Hong Kong. I met Donaka at this insanely lavish party thrown by her parents’ friends at their house on The Peak. I’d never known anyone like him, who actually talked to me like I was a person. He…was charming, and I guess…I was dazzled by it all.”

You feel like you’re making a confession to this man you do not know, but once you start you can’t stop.

“He invited me over to see his art collection, and I never really left. He asked me to stay, so I did. It was…the stupidest mistake I’ve ever made in my life, I found out.” You hate it, that tears start rolling from your eyes. It hurts to look back on the beginning, on your earnest hopes. You’d fallen in love with a foolishly open heart, blind to the red flags that you realize now were there all along. “He was good to me at first but it was just a trap. He…won’t let me leave. He won't let me see my friend, or any of her contacts. He has my passport, and he won’t let me even go near my embassy.”

You feel so fucking ridiculous, but this man just nods. Not judging you. As though he understands the way men like Donaka chew people up and spit them out all too well.

-You hug yourself, goose pimples erupting down your skin. “Are you cold?” You nod, because it’s partly true. There’s a chill that runs deeper than your skin, something physical warmth can’t touch. He motions to take off his jacket for you, but you suddenly feel bold, maybe from the drink you’d consumed, or maybe…because he seems kind. You slowly step in to snuggle into his body, sliding your arms under his jacket. He closes his eyes, enjoying it as much as you as you tuck under his chin. He strokes your hair, and eventually it's you who turns your face up, hoping for another kiss. He looks down at you with those soulful dark eyes, and its as though every cell in your body quivers with anticipation before he ducks his head, and his soft lips touch yours. It's gentle at first, but then it grows into this heady, hungry thing–you pull back with a gasp, looking up at him with your big, woodland creature eyes. Here you are again, in the arms of something that could eat you in one bite–and you want to be devoured.

If you ever make it home…you should get your head examined.

It doesn’t stop you from asking breathily, “Do you want…to go somewhere?”

He takes your meaning perfectly well, that intense gaze upon you. “Are you sure?”

You nod without hesitance, and he closes his eyes, presses his forehead to yours as though you’ve just told him something that could save his life. He knows he should refuse. You are just a pretty, soft little thing that doesn’t belong in this world. He shouldn’t even be allowed to look at you, much less touch you. But he can’t say no. You’re in his arms–and he can’t say no.

He is not a good man. He knows this very well.

He takes your hand, and leads you back to the hall, then to a stairwell, where you go down into the boat. It takes you a few tries, before you find a stateroom where you can be alone. Once inside he locks the door behind you, before pressing you into the wall with a devouring kiss that makes you see stars. That gentle man from before is not gone, but he is hungry, and you are all too happy to offer yourself up like a feast for him to devour.

“I've wanted you…since the moment I saw you,” he admits. “On that asshole’s arm, across the room at the fight…I knew you weren't happy with him.”

You make a sound that is dangerously close to a sob.

“I wanted you too,” you admit, and the fury of his answering kiss steals your breath away.

Clothes are shed, buckles and buttons undone–his solid weight presses you down into the bed while you are only wearing your panties, and his skin against yours is a divine thing. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers against your chest, kissing your neck, your collarbone, and you could weep because it’s been a long time since you’ve heard that with any sort of tenderness in it.

“So are you,” you answer truthfully, your hands running down the ladder of his ribs, the taut muscles of his back and torso, past the perfect dimples at the small of his back and into the loosened waistband of his trousers. The firm curve of his buttocks feel like they were sculpted by God himself, or at least Michelangelo, which is close enough.

You spread your legs for him, inviting him in, and he rolls his hips against you. You want him inside you, but he is kissing down your body with something else in mind, his tongue teasing the taut peaks of you nipples.

“Can I taste you, pretty girl?” he asks, already pulling your panties down your thighs.

“Oh god,” you answer, which isn't really a negative or an affirmation. But he keeps going, and the sound you make as his tongue dips into your folds is barely human. You feel him chuckle against you, a deep rumble that resonates inside you, vibrating against your clit and you almost cum on that alone.

“John…Jardani,” you sigh as he drives you towards heaven with his tongue, teasing you with slow circles before lapping hard at your bud, a finger slipped just barely inside you. It’s so wonderful you could die.

Maybe you will, if Donaka finds out that not only did you sleep with someone else, but you enjoyed the hell out of it too. It seems his little punishment backfired, for now, but in the end he’ll make you pay somehow. He always does.

“You're going…to make me cum,” you warn him. He makes a sound inside your wet pussy that sounds like ‘Good.’

“But I want…to cum with you inside me.”

This gets his attention, this beautiful man looking up the line of your naked body at you with a sharp hunger in his midnight dark eyes.

“Are you sure?”

He presses a wet kiss to your singing clit, and you're not sure of anything.

“Yes,” you manage shakily, and he wipes his mouth on the sheets, standing to shed the rest of his clothes. You are mesmerized, watching the precise way he moves. You're grateful, when he produces a condom from his pocket, tearing the foil and rolling it on his impressive manhood. “Thank you.”

He just nods, occupied looking down at you with an intensity that nearly makes you squirm, positioning himself between your legs. His tip at your weeping entrance is a revelation; his thick length pressing inside you the best thing you’ve felt…ever, maybe. A few thrusts and he is seated completely inside you, buried to the hilt. You are incapable of keeping your eyes open, your head tilted back in bliss. But he does not move, and you feel him looking down at you, his arm around your shoulders holding you close. “John?”

He kisses you so gently it breaks your heart, his nose brushing yours. “I’m here. Are you?”

You don’t understand exactly, why fat tears roll down from the corners of your eyes.

“I don’t think…you belong here either,” you say. He seems…too kind, and you find it hard to reconcile that with the man who commands such fear in his crew that no one dares challenge him even while full to the gills with distilled liquid courage.

“I never had a choice,” he tells you quietly, and you believe that, nodding as you hide in the bed of his neck. Maybe this is a strange conversation to have, while a man is inside you, but everything feels too raw, too vivid, and your sanity teeters on a knife’s edge. You kiss his neck, breathing him in. If you’re going to die soon…at least you got to have this. Something real, and good, in the most unexpected place.

Life is so strange and cruel and sometimes–it’s wonderful.

“Please…don’t stop?”

He kisses you again, passionately, desperately, and you sense that maybe he’s close to breaking too. He groans in your mouth as he starts to move inside you, slow thrusts that allow you to savor every inch of him, his delicious girth stretching you wide. You shift your legs up, the angle tightening your hole for him, winning you a growl that sends a thrill from your spine to your aching center. His thrusts become faster, more erratic, and you think he might cum just like this. You find you crave the triumph of it, wanting to give him something to remember you by. “So fucking good for me, malyshka,” he rasps, withdrawing to guide you into turning over. His hands are so sure, so exacting as he arranges you how he wants, your ass in the air and your face in the pillows. Your pussy flutters and pulses, missing him, hungry to be filled again. You melt as you feel his kisses down your spine, and the slow pressure of him pushing inside you again. Just when you think it can’t get any better, strong, blunt fingers strum at your slippery clit, and your focus of the world narrows to wanting one thing.

“You going to cum on my big cock for me, sweetheart?”

You whine in answer, yearning, clenching around him. He shudders, thrusting deeper, making you jump. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

You realize you would give this man anything, for making love to you, when for so long you’ve only felt like a thing to be used. It might be this thought, as much as his masterful manipulations and his perfect member, that fills you up with pleasure until you break, a spine-cracking orgasm ripping through you. You feel him arch back, riding you through the furious fluttering of your walls squeezing him, greedy to be filled. Soon after he cums with a shuddering groan, his big hands on your hips, fingertips digging into your tender flesh hard enough to bruise.

He collapses over you, his dead weight and searing warmth enveloping you a wonderful thing, even if you can’t breathe. He whispers something softly in Russian into your hair, sweeping it back to kiss your neck, sending a luscious shudder down your spine. Slowly as though his strength is sapped he moves to the side, tossing the condom and drawing you into his arms. The small smile he pays you, the gentle kiss he offers, and the sadness in his dark eyes feels like a slow-twisting dagger in your heart, an exquisite pain you simultaneously loathe and savor.

You know what’s coming next won’t be good, and maybe it makes this small slice of bliss with him all the more glorious. With his big hand on the back of your head he tucks you into his shoulder and the two of you doze, tangled up for just a few minutes longer in paradise together.

-A little later he wakes you, sweeping the hair from your eyes and kissing you softly. “We have to go back,” he tells you regretfully, and you nod, knowing you can’t hide here all night. The two of you dress slowly, in no hurry to return to the hedonistic revelry above. But you suspect he has a job to do, and you…can’t escape your keeper this easily. He helps you with your dress, though his strong hands on your curves through the silk just lights the fire within you all over again. You sit back to watch him with a fascination that borders on obscene, entranced by his hands on his buttons, his tie, and the deft way he secures his weapons about his trim waist. He carries a lot of firepower, for being at a party. You suppose threats to his boss can come at any time, at any place.

-Hand in hand you return topside. The party hasn’t exactly wound down, though everyone is clearly very drunk. You find that Donaka is in the lounge, speaking to Viggo Tarasov again like they are old friends. His sharp gaze takes in the two of you across the room, his eyes narrowing, and within a moment you know that he is pissed. He stands as you approach, your grip on John involuntarily tightening with fear. “Time to go,” says Donaka, in that tone that brooks no argument from his subordinates.

But when you resignedly try to walk around, John holds you a step behind him.

“I thought she was a gift?”

“Just for the evening,” Donaka clarifies, leveling an assessing gaze at the man in black.

“You should have said. I’m afraid I’ve ruined her for you.” Donaka straightens, a barely banked rage seething in his eyes, all while you press your lips, trying not to laugh out loud for the spite of it.

Oh shit.

“How unfortunate for her,” Donaka finally answers, eerily calm, next leveling his gaze upon you. You will be the one to pay the price for this embarrassment in front of all these Russian gangsters. “Come on, y/n. Play time’s over.” He holds out his hand for you, and you know if you do not obey him…he will end you.

But still, John does not let you go by.

“It’s bad manners, giving a gift to take it back.”

“I’m sorry you misunderstood.”

“I’ve heard you think you’re a warrior,” John says cooly, his words so matter of fact. “So, let’s fight for her.”

Everyone in the room goes silent, all eyes on the three of you.

“You…don’t want to do that, Mr. Mark,” says Viggo, shifting in his chair uneasily. He says something low in Russian to John, that you assume translates to ‘Give him his bitch back.’

But you know that was the worst thing to say to the man who keeps you like a toy. Donaka Mark prides himself as a fighter. He’s not a bragging man, but he does not like the thought that he can be beat, by anyone.

“We can fight,” says Donaka, looking John up and down. “But I’ll warn you, I don’t spar for points.”

A low murmur runs through the crowd at this challenge. Unruffled, John nods. “Me neither.”

You think about the dastardly things you’ve witnessed Donaka do over the past year, and you squeeze your lover’s hand, afraid. “John…” you whisper urgently. “I know he looks civilized, but…he’s a killer.”

John simply nods, answering at a volume meant only for you, “We’re all killers here, milaya.”

Maybe you suspected it was true, but you’re still afraid, if for anything just because this man has become precious to you, and that feels like a promise from the universe to hurt him somehow.

-It takes place on the main deck on the front of the yacht. Everyone gathers around, eager to see what will happen, though you can’t help but notice several of the Russians seem uncharacteristically solemn. The combatants remove their suit jackets, their ties, and roll up the sleeves of their made-to-measure shirts. It’s to be a hand to hand affair, man to man, no weapons. John leaves you with Tarasov, as though he deemed the older man a safe place for you. “You must have left quite an impression, for John Wick to fight for you,” says the mafiya king.

“I…didn’t ask him to,” you answer for some reason. And for some reason, this makes the older man snort with amusement.

-The fury of their combat is a spectacle to behold. They are evenly matched in height and weight. At first it seems like Donaka might have the upper hand, landing a few blows, but that is quickly assuaged as the kicks and punches really start to fly. You watch as the gentle man who held you so tenderly is transformed into a finely-honed fighting machine; it is both terrible and fascinating . You dig your nails into your palm as you watch, hard enough to draw blood without even realizing, you are so transfixed.

Wick twists Mark up like a pretzel in a complicated move, and maybe would have succeeded in breaking his neck had Donaka not bit him savagely. They go at it again, and when there is a flash of metal you realize Donaka has pulled a knife. You gasp at this betrayal; some of the Russians laugh, and some boo. Donaka slashes at Wick, who succeeds in jumping out of the way, a hair’s breadth ahead of the blade. Wick catches his arm, strikes his wrist, and the blade drops. They grapple, and head-butt, and Donaka manages to get John on the ground with a takedown move. He punches John, landing horrible, bloody blows. But John manages to get his legs around his opponent, flipping him. He swipes the knife, tries to drive it home, but Donaka holds him at bay. The two men hover in violent stasis, snarling at each other with bloody teeth. In a sudden burst of strength Wick strikes the knife, forcing it into Donaka’s chest, and then his throat.

You watch with horror as the man who has tormented you for the past year slowly bleeds out onto the high-polished deck of the yacht, his blood spreading beneath them in an ever-expanding pool. He is defiant to the end, baring his teeth at his killer like a tiger, but even Donaka Mark cannot survive a hole in his heart.

You look upon them, dumbfounded, feeling as though John Wick has slayed a dragon for you.

-Wearily, your hero gets to his feet, accepting a towel to wipe his face and hands before fastidiously unrolling his sleeves and buttoning his cuffs again. Only then does he turn to you, a cut bisecting his brow, his nose bloodied, his lip split. “Are you alright?” he asks, and it’s all you can do not to faint dead onto the floor.

-Wrapped up in a fluffy robe, you look out over the bird’s eye view of Victoria Harbor glittering like a blanket of aquamarines in the morning sun. Anxiously, you await John Wick’s return.

The past twelve hours have been a blur. The few security men who had accompanied Donaka surrendered and made no trouble, only wanting to leave with their lives once their meal-ticket was gone. John had bundled you off back to Hong Kong island via one of the speedboat tenders, and promptly checked the two of you into a hotel room in a lavish establishment in the Central district called The Continental. They knew him by name, did not blink at the state of his face, and immediately offered to send up a doctor and a bottle of Blanton’s finest bourbon.

You took a long hot bath together, and by your count, made love three and a half times before he left “To arrange some things.” (The half was on you–the body was willing, but the flesh weak). You feel like you've been living in a fever dream, high on a mixture of relief and disbelief.

You realize, with the benefit of hindsight, that you really had thought you were going to die.

-When finally he returns it's as though a tight knot releases in your heart. You greet him with kisses and a long embrace. He may be a seasoned killer, this man relishes being held. It's yet another thing that endears you to this man; it makes you want to never let him go. “It’s all settled,” he tells you. “I got you an open ticket. You can go home once you get your new passport from your embassy. You can stay here as long as it takes to get that taken care of.”

This news should make you ecstatic.

Instead, you stare up at him open-mouthed, gripping his arms with fingers like claws.

Finally, you remember how to fucking breathe.

“Thank you. I really can’t thank you enough, for everything.”

He smiles ruefully, brushing your hair back from your cheek. “You don't seem happy.”

You close your eyes, because this man sees everything. There's no hiding from him. “I…don’t want to leave you,” you admit point blank, quickly, before you lose your nerve.

He continues to pet your hair, like soothing an animal that's on the edge of going feral. He reads you like a book.

“Baby…you've been through so much. You need to go home.”

You nod, knowing he's right. But fuck if it doesn't feel like your heart is breaking. You've actually managed to avoid having a proper breakdown so far–postponing the inevitable, you’re sure–but fuck if there aren’t tears in your eyes. “Will I ever see you again?”

You can tell he's amused with you, even if he's sad too. Not unkindly, he says to you, “Has it occurred to you that you have terrible taste in men?”

You laugh shakily, mostly at yourself. “I don’t know. I feel like I’ve done pretty well for myself lately.”

He cups your cheeks in his hands, looking down at you like you’re something precious he’ll never see the likes of again. “I want you to promise me you’re going to go home, and fall in love with someone completely boring, and live a good, safe, life. Can you do that for me?”

You make a face. Not just at the thought of loving someone boring…but loving someone who is not him. “I will promise you…that I will look after myself with more care, when I get home.”

He sighs, having to accept it, and he kisses you so sweetly that you understand his heart is breaking too. “Maybe in another life, sweet girl, I could have been the kind of man who deserves a woman like you.”

“You’re not a bad man, John,” you insist. “You’re my hero.”

“Just this once, just for you.”

You pull him into another embrace, and you realize you are not the only one who is trembling with pent up wishes that life could be different for both of you.

“Come here,” you say, pulling on his tie. He obeys, allowing you to lead him to a chair. You know he lets you, when you playfully push him down to sit, but you'd be a liar if you pretended you didn't get a thrill out of it anyway.

“What are you up to, pretty girl?” he asks gently, a warmth in his soft brown eyes, just for you.

You kiss him lingeringly before sinking to your knees before him, sliding your hands down the length of his muscle-strapped thighs. “I want to thank you,” you say, playing the coquette to mask the fact that your heart is splintering into a thousand pieces as you speak.

“You don't have to thank me,” he tells you, cupping your cheek in his hand. You lean into his touch, savoring every second you have left with him.

“Fine, I won’t,” you say cheekily, winning a huff of laughter that feels like a coveted prize. You reach for his belt buckle, and he doesn't stop you. “But I’m still going to suck your dick.” His mouth dances as he tries not to smile– in the end he loses the battle, and then he moans as you free him from his underwear, already hard and proud in your hand.

“Baby…how am I supposed to let you go?” he rasps as you take him between your lips, swirling the glans with your tongue. You almost forgot how fun sex can be, until John found you. He claimed you, and then, he set you free. You take him all the way into your throat with gusto, moaning with him as his fingers comb into your hair, gripping lightly as you work him up and down. “Let me have you?” he whimpers. “One last time?”

You withdraw with a pop, your vision unfocused with lust as you look up at this god of a man. You know it’s batshit crazy, but you would stay by his side indefinitely if he would only let you.

He scoops you into his arms, carries you to the bed, and you make love again while he looks into your eyes. You feel like he's stolen a piece of your soul–you’ll never be the same, and you certainly know you'll carry him with you, in your heart and your memory, for the rest of your life.

-As the years go by, you honor John Wick’s request in your own way. You do take care of yourself. And, you never really allow yourself to let anyone in again. It's too disappointing, after having known a man like him, and too risky, after having known a man like Donaka Mark.

You've since moved to New York. You work as an art consultant for a large firm, basically telling rich people what to buy for the walls of their multi-million dollar residences. As tiresome as the uber-rich can be, you get to work in a field you love, and draw attention to emerging new artists who deserve it. When you return from your lunch break Tina, the receptionist, tells you that you have a walk-in who requested you specifically waiting in conference room 1. It's not really how things are done at your office, but you know better than to turn your nose up at a prospective client. You set your things down at your desk and go see what awaits you.

He’s standing at the window with his back to you, looking out over Manhattan. Even so…you would know the lines of his body in a smartly tailored suit anywhere. Suddenly, your knees feel like they might go out from under you.

“John?”

Only then does he turn, still so handsome it hurts, his hands in his pockets and his eyes still so filled with warmth for you. “Hello, y/n.”

It takes three tries to find your voice.

“What are you doing here?”

He looks down for a moment, as though shy about what he has to say. You've literally watched this man kill with his bare hands– what could he possibly feel embarrassed about with you?

He keeps his deep voice low, as though he's afraid he might spook you. “If I told you I've had a recent change in careers…would you have dinner with me?”

You close your eyes, because it's all you can do not to leap over the hand-crafted conference table. He’s all you've thought about in your free time, since the moment you parted. The memory of this man is imprinted on every cell in your body. Maybe he let you go…but you belong to him.

You realize you've been silent for a long time, when he answers sadly, “But if the answer’s no I completely understand.”

You're at work. You have a reputation to maintain. You have to act like a professional.

You forget all this, when you cross the room and fling yourself into his arms, answering his question with your mouth on his.

The rest, as you might guess, Dear Reader, is just history.😉

—-----------------

*otets - the godfather, the big boss *brigata - brigade, a crime crew in the russian mafiya *malyshka - babygirl *milaya - darling, honey

I'm pretty sure @sweetwolfcupcake planted the seed for this a while ago when she commented on my Sympathy for the Devil fic "What if John Wick entered the picture?" 🤭 And here we are. You're a genius, dear girl!!😘😘😘

#donaka mark #john wick #keanuverse #donaka mark x reader #john wick x reader #donaka mark x you #john wick x you #keanu reeves

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justinspoliticalcorner · 23 hours ago

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The Warning With Steve Schmidt:

Four years ago today, after losing a presidential election, Donald Trump incited an insurrection against the US Constitution. His mob stormed the Capitol, pissed on the walls and shat on the floors. They did $1.5 million in damage, caused injuries to at least 174 of Capitol police officers, and caused the deaths of five people. Trump will soon pardon the January 6 criminals, lionize them, and hang medals around their necks. Have no doubt about this. Meanwhile, Elon Musk has denounced Nigel Farage, the leader of the UK Reform Party, saying that he is unfit to lead it. He has also stepped up his interference in the forthcoming German elections. He has also begun severely limiting criticism of himself and others on X with a social media scoring system that is straight out of China.

The Washington Post is in a state of collapse. The paper’s best political writers, journalists and commentators are like the first-class passengers on Titanic being lowered into half-filled life boats taking them to the Wall Street Journal and The Atlantic, but the truth is that there aren’t enough life boats for all. Everyone is going to want off a ship that is sinking into disgrace. Whatever private commitments were made between the Graham family and Bezos when he bought The Washington Post regarding its stewardship have been shattered. The most incredible part about the capitulations — which are not the least bit surprising — is how quickly they happened, and without so much as a soft whimper or scuffle.

By doing so, most editorial leaders of these institutions have demonstrated the only place they are truly fit to work is the Trump White House. There, they could combine the practice of moral appeasement, fecklessness, dishonesty, weakness and self-interest with being cheered, promoted and celebrated. Instead, these low men and women have to face the reality that the person staring back at them in the mirror is a different version of Lindsey Graham — only they call themselves journalists as opposed to senator. The farce is the same. The cowardice is the same. The record will show that when the starting gun sounded nobody came close to Joe Scarborough and Mika Brzezinski with their Usain Bolt-like dash to Mar-a-Lago. Bezos must look at them through his capitulant lens as visionaries. Perhaps they will have the opportunity to summer aboard Koru, his yacht, with the Lady Sanchez in the south of France. Given that Bezos has green-lit a Melania documentary that explains her reemergence from witness protection, maybe she could be there as well, softly purring about her deep love of Donald and America.

[...] Jeff Bezos, Sam Altman, Elon Musk, and all the rest of America’s oligarchs hold the American people in contempt. Because they do, they can’t see the character of the steelworker, trucker, nurse, teacher or cop. They only see one thing, and that in the end, is why this whole miserable MAGA project will crash and burn. They are locusts preparing to swarm to engorge themselves even though they feel no hunger and want for nothing. Donald Trump will keep pushing until someone, somewhere, some day, effectively pushes back again. I hope that day comes soon because until then they are going to be full speed ahead. By the time the inaugural address is over there will be perfect clarity around what must be fiercely opposed as indecent and un-American.

Steve Schmidt’s column is on the nose here. It’s insulting to see so many people and institutions obey in advance and capitulate to Trumpism, especially the Washington Post.

#Steve Schmidt #Donald Trump #Joe Scarborough #Mika Brzezinski #Jeff Bezos #Melania Trump #Trump Administration II #Elon Musk #Nigel Farage

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letteraddressedtothefire · 4 months ago

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✨ Pre-Birthday Preparations Timeline for Xavier: A Global Celebration of Our Star Prince ✨

As Xavier's birthday draws near, the fandom is buzzing with excitement across the globe! Our community has been hard at work since May, creating memorable ways to celebrate our beloved Prince of Philos. From our CN Star Sisters to Xavier’s Little Stars, the love for our Light has transcended borders, uniting us in preparing for his special day.

Aside from our international cupsleeve events, here’s a sneak peek of some of the highlights of our preparations:

⭐️CN Star Sisters and Global Little Stars gathered heartfelt written and audio messages to be sent to a satellite in honor of Xavier.

⭐️Collaboration with the elemeo food app, where fans could collect points (wishing stars) to help fund Xavier’s birthday.

⭐️Announcement of personally-sponsored 100K boarding passes with Xavier’s image at Beijing Capital International Airport.

⭐️Donation of 2 solar street lights to rural areas.

⭐️Xavier’s Little Stars symbolically purchased and named twin stars in the sky “Starhunter and Moonchaser” in Xavier’s honor.

⭐️Another symbolic buying and naming of a star in the sky "Xavier-Lumiere" with its own star website and virtual reality access (personal project).

⭐️10+ shopping malls were rented for Xavier's birthday with giant LED screens, interactive photo walls, and decorations.

⭐️The Stellaris fan site was launched to unite Xavier’s global fanbase.

⭐️Milk tea collaboration kicked off, distributing 6,000 custom cup sleeves across 20 stores.

⭐️A personally-funded tree-planting project in Sabah, Borneo.

⭐️300+ Xavier billboards across the globe, including LED light shows, giant screen previews, sky curtain screens, LED office buildings, and LED screens on one of the most crowded subway tunnels in China.

⭐️The “Seeds of Hope” (tree-planting) and “Nourishing Hearts” (food for the needy) fundraising campaigns were launched by Xavier's Little Stars.

⭐️A personally-rented yacht where 6 other Xavier stans were invited to celebrate.

⭐️Ferris Wheel collaboration

⭐️52 movie theaters to broadcast Xavier videos before every movie on October 16th.

…and more!

This celebration is more than just a birthday party— it’s a symbol of the unity, passion, and light that Xavier has brought to all of us. Swipe through the supporting graphics for a full timeline of events and stay tuned for even more projects, events, and surprises that will make this celebration truly unforgettable! Let’s keep shining our light for Xavier. 🌟

The real countdown starts on September 16, leading up to Xavier’s birthday on October 16. Celebrate with us!

Thank you to every Star Sister, Little Star, and Global Stan for making this celebration shine as bright as Xavier himself! 🌟

Disclaimer: these projects and events are fan-hosted and not affiliated with the official Love and Deepspace game.

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gunsatthaphan · 8 months ago

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~ Monthly BL Breakdown: April 2024 ~

🌷 Happy May!!! ☀️

Disclaimer: ALL shows can be streamed here or here, as well as on Youtube and other platforms. For more info on where to watch what, check out this post!

New breakdowns are coming at the end of every month - feel free to add stuff! -> previous breakdowns

What came out this month? (green = seen/currently watching)

🌟 Love is Like a Cat - April 1st (South Korea / Thailand)

🌟 We Are - April 3rd (Thailand) ✅

🌟 Memory in the Letter - April 6th (Thailand)

🌟 Living With Him - April 11th (Japan)

🌟 Gray Shelter - April 11th (South Korea)

🌟 Beating Again - April 13th (Thailand)

🌟 Blue Boys - April 15th (South Korea)

🌟 At 25:00 in Alasaka - April 18th (Japan)

🌟 GMMTV2024 Part 2 (lineup event) - April 23rd (Thailand) ✅

🌟 Boys Be Brave - April 25th (South Korea)

🌟 CHANGE2561 2024 lineup event - April 25th (Thailand) ✅

🌟 My Stand-In - April 26th (Thailand) ✅

🌟 City Boy Log Vol. 3 - April 30th (South Korea)

New series & movie announcements

🎥 The Fridge - Date TBA (Thailand)

🎥 Flavor of Us (starring Benjamin B., Dome W. & others) - Date TBA (Thailand)

🎥 Children's Day - Date TBA (Taiwan)

🎥 Blue Time - Date TBA (China, possibly censored)

🎥 Bad Guy My Boss - Date TBA (Thailand)

🎥 Oriental Magician In The Ent. Circle - Date TBA (Taiwan)

🎥 Under the Oak Tree - Date TBA (Vietnam)

🎥 Invitation - Date TBA (Thailand)

🎥 The Love Matter - Date TBA (Thailand)

🎥 I Saw You in My Dream - Date TBA (Thailand)

🎥 I Wish You the Best - Date TBA (Thailand)

🎥 Impression of Youth - Date TBA (Taiwan)

🎥 Meet You at the Blossom - Date TBA (Taiwan)

Other news from the BL world

❗️ The production company Studio WabiSabi announced that their actors Boun N., Prem W., Santa P., Sammy C., Yacht P. and Stamp P. have terminated their contracts and will no longer be artists under the company on April 15th. Shortly after, GMMTV announced the 6 of them as newly signed artists, along with the disclosure that BounPrem's upcoming BL Vampire Project is now being produced under GMMTV, who now also own all broadcasting rights; WabiSabi will function as a co-producer. New S. stated on Twitter that the decisions had been long in the making, as well as the fact that WabiSabi no longer functions as a management agency for actors and is now a mere production company. He also denied the rumors that the company is shutting down. Shortly after the transfer of the Wabi Sabi actors, actor Fluke Jeeratch (formerly Pongsakorn) joined GMMTV as well.

❗️ The Filipino BL Gameboys is getting a third season. An air date has not been confirmed.

❗️ P Ekkapop and Pan Jirachot, the lead actors from Kiseki Chapter 2, have announced a new project together. Details are unknown.

❗️ Actor Barcode Tinnasit has announced his departure from his agency Be On Cloud.

❗️ After some confusion, the Korean production company Studio X+U announced that their upcoming series Fragile - which was initially advertized as a Korean SKAM remake - is in fact not connected to the Norwegian web series and is instead a standalone series, which focuses on the life of a group of teenagers. According to ZUM News, there was supposed to be a Korean SKAM remake based on the Norwegian original, which was however cancelled due to unknown reasons. Fragile was created as a substitution.

❗️ GMMTV held their 2024 part 2 event on April 23rd. The following BL projects were announced:

The Heart Killers (starring FirstKhao & JoongDunk)

Perfect10 Liners (starring ForceBook, PerthChimon, JuniorMark)

Heart That Skips a Beat (starring EstWilliam)

Revamp (starring BounPrem, formerly known as Vampire Project)

Sweet Tooth, Good Dentist (starring MarkOhm)

The Ex-Morning (starring KristSingto)

❗️ The production company CHANGE2561 held their 2024 lineup event on April 25th. The following BL projects were announced:

This Love Doesn't Have Long Beans (starring SailubPon)

Goddess Bless You From Death (starring PavelPooh)

I’m The Most Beautiful Count (starring PingSupanut)

Pit Babe Season 2

Upcoming series & movies for May

👉🏻 You Made My Day (starring Tar A. and Bom T. from I Will Knock You) - May 3rd (Thailand)

👉🏻 Inverse Identity / Upside Down - Mary 3rd (China)

👉🏻 Wandee Goodday - May 4th (Thailand)

👉🏻 A Balloon's Landing - May 10th (Taiwan)

👉🏻 City of Stars: Special Episode - May 10th (Thailand, cinema release)

👉🏻 The Time of Fever (Unintentional Love Story spinoff) - May 15th (South Korea)

👉🏻 Blossom Campus - May 16th (South Korea)

👉🏻 OMG! Vampire - May 19th (Thailand)

👉🏻 Manji Reverse - May 24th (Japan)

👉🏻 My Biker 2 - May 28th (Thailand)

#doreens monthly bl breakdown #thai bl #bl drama #upcoming bl #update #bl news #decided to do my likes/dislikes in the tags in case some entitled 'fans' are coming for my throat again #my Monthly Like goes to My Stand-In because sorry but the first ep slapped #the story is really interesting also i missed my boy Up so much??? I havent seen him in like 3 years 🥺#Ming is a red flag lmao but up is doing really well and I also didn't think he would act again since he's been producing lately #but I'm so happy he's back!!!#and I really hope the show stays at that level bc the 1st ep was more than solid #the other guy is pretty good too #another Like is going to the gmmtv lineup bc I feel really good about it!!#so many promising projects it makes me excited 😊#my Monthly Dislike goes to Love is Like a Cat bc wow it's terrible lol #good to know that Mew's lakorns aren't paying his bills anymore lmao #I dropped it instantly #its SO bad #kinda sad for Mew though #in other news this korean skam situation is confusing me so much lmao #like there was supposed to be an adaption but that got cancelled for whatever reason so now they're making a new show that's.....the same?#make it make sense lmao #also what up with all those gmmtv tranfers lol #whos next??#dmd hand over ur gays jhgkfd #or maybe dont #can u imagine the dmd boys at gmmtv #they would get fired for public indecency #jhdsfkd

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milk5 · 10 months ago

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going down a guo wengui rabbit hole after seeing that p jack reblog was really funny. he's this scumbag billionaire white collar criminal who fled to the US from china because his corruption was being investigated and then immediately (and briefly) becoming a US newsmedia sweetheart for having beef with the CCP. then he proceeded to found an anti-CCP chinese separatist movement modelled by the USA with steve bannon before being arrested in the US for being a scumbag billionaire white collar criminal

imagery like this + cool rotating camera shots of him smoking a cigar on a yacht was the propaganda he wanted to topple the strongest global political/military power with

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mariacallous · 9 months ago

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It’s not too late, because it’s never too late. No outcomes are ever preordained, nothing is ever over, and you can always affect what happens tomorrow by making the right choices today. The U.S. Congress is finally making one of those right choices. Soon, American weapons and ammunition will once again start flowing to Ukraine.

But delays do have a price. By dawdling for so many months, by heading down the blind alley of border reform before turning back, congressional Republicans who blocked weapons and ammunition for Ukraine did an enormous amount of damage, some of it irreparable. Over the past six months, Ukraine lost territory, lives, and infrastructure. If Ukraine had not been deprived of air defense, the city of Kharkiv might still have most of its power plants. People who have died in the near-daily bombardment of Odesa might still be alive. Ukrainian soldiers who spent weeks at the front lines rationing ammunition might not be so demoralized.

The delay has changed American politics too. Only a minority of House Republicans, including Speaker Mike Johnson, joined most Democrats to approve $60 billion in aid yesterday. What is now clearly a pro-Russia Republican caucus has consolidated inside Congress. The lesson is clear: Anyone who seeks to manipulate the foreign policy of the United States, whether the tin-pot autocrat in Hungary or the Communist Party of China, now knows that a carefully designed propaganda campaign, when targeted at the right people, can succeed well beyond what anyone once thought possible. From the first days of the 2022 Russian invasion, President Vladimir Putin has been trying to conquer Ukraine through psychological games as well as military force. He needed to persuade Americans, Europeans, and above all Ukrainians that victory was impossible, that the only alternative was surrender, and that the Ukrainian state would disappear in due course.

Plenty of Americans and Europeans, though not so many Ukrainians, supported this view. Pro-Russia influencers—Tucker Carlson, J. D. Vance, David Sacks—backed up by an army of pro-Russia trolls on X and other social-media platforms, helped feed the narrative of failure and convinced a minority in Congress to block aid for Ukraine. It’s instructive to trace the path of a social-media post that falsely claimed that Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky owns two yachts, how it traveled up the food chain late last year, from the keyboard of a propagandist through the echo chamber created by trolls and into the brains of American lawmakers. According to Senator Thom Tillis, a Republican from North Carolina, some of his colleagues worried out loud, during debates about military aid to Ukraine, that “people will buy yachts with this money.” They had read the false stories and believed they were true.

But with the passage of this aid bill, Russia’s demoralization campaign has suffered a severe setback. This is also a setback for the Russian war effort, and not only because the Ukrainians will now have more ammunition. Suddenly the Russian military and Russian society are once again faced with the prospect of a very long war. Ukraine, backed by the combined military and economic forces of the United States and the European Union, is a much different opponent than Ukraine isolated and alone.

That doesn’t mean that the Russians will quickly give up: Putin and the propagandists who support him on state television have repeatedly stated that their goal is not to gain a bit of extra territory but to control all of Ukraine. They don’t want to swap land for peace. They want to occupy Kharkiv, Odesa, Kyiv, and more. Now, while their goals become harder to reach, is a good moment for the democratic countries backing Ukraine to recalibrate our strategy too.

Once the aid package becomes law this week, the psychological advantage will once again be on our side. Let’s use it. As Johnson himself recommended, the Biden administration should immediately pressure European allies to release the $300 billion in Russian assets that they jointly hold and send it to Ukraine. There are excellent legal and moral arguments for doing so—the money can legitimately be considered a form of reparations. This shift would also make clear to the Kremlin that it has no path back to what used to be called “normal” relations, and that the price Russia is paying for its colonial war will only continue to grow.

This is also a good moment for both Europeans and Americans to take the sanctions and export-control regimes imposed on Russia more seriously. If NATO were running a true economic-pressure campaign, thousands of people would be involved, with banks of screens at a central command center and constantly updated intelligence. Instead, the task has been left to a smattering of people across different agencies in different countries who may or may not be aware of what others are doing.

As American aid resumes, the Ukrainians should be actively encouraged to pursue the asymmetric warfare that they do best. The air and naval drone campaign that pushed the Black Sea Fleet away from their coastline, the raids on Russian gas and oil facilities thousands of miles from Ukraine, the recruitment of Russian soldiers, in Russia, to join pro-Ukraine Russian units fighting on the border—we need more of this, not less. The Biden administration should also heed Johnson’s suggestion that the United States supply more and better long-range weapons so that Ukrainians can hit Russian missile launchers before the missiles reach Ukraine. If the U.S. had done so in the autumn of 2022, when Ukraine was taking back territory, the world might look a lot different today.

This war will be over only when the Russians no longer want to fight—and they will stop fighting when they realize they cannot win. Now it is our turn to convince them, as well as our own pro-Russia caucus, that their invasion will fail. The best way to do that is to believe it ourselves.

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this-is-moony-lovegood · 6 months ago

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Green Arrow Buddie AU

So @buddiesmutslut gave me the idea to write a Green Arrow Buddie AU where Buck is Oliver Queen and Eddie is his bodyguard, so here is a sneak peek at what I’ve written so far. I’m sure this whole thing is going to take forever to put together, but for now, enjoy this intro and Buck reuniting with Maddie, Bobby, and Chimney. It's about 2.1k.

Also, if you want more context for this AU, check out this post. Okay, enjoy!

...

The name of the island they found him on was Lian Yu. If you ask, Buck, he thinks it’s more aptly known by its English translation: purgatory. For the past seven years, he was stranded upon the shores of the island, where he could only dream of being rescued. But in order to make it to this day, he had one goal that defined him, drove him, and changed him: survive. Survive and one day return home, to Starling City.

Lian Yu held many dangers, more than the fishermen that found him would ever expect. He went on to tell the press, the police, journalists, anyone really that asked him that he was alone on that island. He’d lied. No one needed to know what he went through. No one needed to know the torture he’d endured, the suffering, the loss. No one needed to know what he needed to do to accomplish his goal of returning home.

Because the thing is, in those seven years on the island, he had to make himself more than what he was when he boarded that yacht. Buck thought he knew pain and torment when he stepped foot on the Buckley’s Gambit. He was only on the ship to appease his father, fearing the wrath that he could inflict upon him. After all, he’d been dealing with Phillip Buckley hating him as long as he could remember.

See, Buck hadn’t been born because Phillip and Margaret Buckley had wanted a second child. No, Buck was born to save his older brother, Daniel. His parents had genetically engineered him to give Daniel a bone marrow transplant, which had worked, for a while. Buck had been too young to ever know what it was like to be loved by his father. To experience the joy of having Daniel alive, and Buck as the hero that had saved him. Why? Because a little over a year after Daniel had been declared in remission, his lukemia returned with a vengeance. Knowing that Buck’s bone marrow had given Daniel more time, Margaret and Phillip had tried again, having another baby to hopefully match Daniel’s markers and give him a longer change than Buck’s marrow had. However, they were too late. His sister Maddie was born two months after Daniel passed away. One month after that, his mother, Margaret, who was wrapped up in her grief plus a severve wave of post-partum depression, decided to drown herself in a bottle of pills she’d bought off a dealer in the Glades.

Maybe if his mother had survived things would have been different. If she had seeked help for her depression and grief, things might have worked out. But Buck never had the chance to find that out, because from the moment Phillip Buckley had found his wife dead in the bathroom of the Buckley Mansion, he’d lost any empathy, love, or compassion for his children. For years Buck took the brunt of the abuse, verbal not physcial. Maddie was nearly irrelevant to him, so he was merely indifferent. She hadn’t had time to fail him after all. Meanwhile, Phillip Buckley only associated Buck with failure. Buck didn’t actually save Daniel, therefore Buck didn’t save Margaret. Barely a day went by where Buck hadn’t beared his father’s blame.

He’d never hit Buck, even if he came close to a few times. But, Buck suspected the only reason he hadn’t was simply because he wouldn’t be able to hide it. He was still a successful CEO of one of the largest companies in Starling City. He couldn’t afford the scandal of child abuse. So, he left it to verbal abuse, with scars that only Buck could feel, and no one could actually see. That’s why he’d been forced to go on the Buckley’s Gambit, on a father-son trip to China that neither of them wanted, but that Philip apparently needed in order to impress one of his millionaire friends for a business deal.

Looking back, Buck had thought that alteast for that trip his father would have to pretended to care about him. He’d have a slight reprieve from the verbal torment, at least when William and Charlie were around. But, then there was a storm, and the Buckley’s Gambit sank beneath the waves of the North China Sea. If only Buck had gone down with the ship. Maybe then he wouldn’t have experienced a new level of pain and surffering. Maybe then he wouldn’t have been forced to make himself into someone new, and forge himself into a weapon.

If he hadn’t done that though, he might not have had the courage to do what he needed to do. Because now that he is back in Starlting City, he’s no longer the scared nineteen-year-old that was shipwrecked upon the shores of Lian Yu. Because he learned too much from the boat, and from the island. Because that goal - that need to survive - it’s wasn’t for himself, but rather for the people back home. For his sister Maddie, and for his best friend, Chimney. But, also for all the people in the city that he’d called home. The island forged him into the man that is going to bring justice to the people that had been poisoning his city, people like his father.

If he told people about what happened to him on the island, they’d ask questions. Too many questions would lead to people figuring out his plans, and that simply can not happen. No one can know what he’s become, because they’ll try and stop him. His mission is far too important for that. So for now, he’s got to keep his secrets all to himself. He’ll hide the scars that litter twenty percent of his body and the Bratva tattoo on chest. He’ll plaster on a smile for his friends, for his family, and for the city. He’ll go on pretending to be the party boy that left, not the weapon that returned.

At least he will, after he hugs his sister for the first time in seven years. He stands in his hospital room and Maddie clutches him tightly, practically clawing at his back as she buried her face in his shoulder. Buck can’t help himself from gripping her back just as strongly, nearly afraid that if he lets her go she’s going to slip through his fingers and fade away like she did in his dreams on the island. She’s taller now that she was back then, and she’s cut her hair. The brown locks barely reach her shoulders, where before they fell down her back in light ringlets.

When she pulls back from him, it’s barely a few inches, and only to cup his face in her palms, as she scans every inch of him. Her shaky fingers run over his stubble (which, he’s decided he’s going to keep. He likes the look and feel of it a lot more than the perfectly shaved skin he’d had before), and his iconic pink birthmark above his eye. “When you called from the boat… I really didn’t believe it was you.” She whispers.

“It’s me, Mads. I promise. I’m here.” He tells her, reaching between them to stick out his pinky for her to take. A pinky promise - their symbol for the two of them against the world. She’d told him on the phone that his call wasn’t the first one claiming to be Evan Buckley, all in attempts to get access to the Buckley family fortune, so he knows that this gesture will reassure her that this truly is the real thing this time. Only they know about this, and the moment she sees his pinky, Maddie’s eyes are welling up again with tears, and she takes it, and reburies herself in his chest once more. Carefully he places a kiss to his sister’s forehead, before gently stroking her hair and reassuring her that everything is okay. He’s doing his best to not actively sob against her as well. Maddie needs her time to fall apart, and Buck doesn’t want to get in the way of that.

Over her head, he sees that Maddie didn’t come in alone. From the other side of the room, the familiar voice of his best friend says, “What did I tell you? Yachts suck.” He’s got his hands thrown out as he gives a nonchalant shrug, but Buck knows that he’s just as relieved as Maddie but is trying his best to lighten the mood in the very somber room. He expects nothing less of Chimney Han.

“Hey, Chim.” He chuckles lightly and signals for Maddie to let him go for just a moment. With a sniff, she steps back and lets Chimney crash into his arms.

“Fuck, I missed you, man.” Chimney’s hug is nearly as tight as Maddie’s was and Buck doesn’t hesitate to return it just as eagerly. Maddie might be his younger sister, but Chimney is just as much his family as she is. “I missed you, too, Chim.”

As he hugs Chimney, he realizes there’s one more familiar face lurking in the back of the room, standing back to give the three of them their space. Bobby Nash, second in command - well, probably first now, Buck guesses - at Buckley Consolidated. Well, that would be his official title anyway. Bobby wasn’t Phillips’s best friend by any means, but he was always at the Buckley Mansion working on deals with Phillip. Buck remembers him spending many hours at their dinner table, brewing deals with his father some nights, or others, having dinner with them when Bobby had picked Phillip up off the floor of his study after he had passed out drunk.

Bobby was the one Buck went to if he had a problem at school, or when he wanted advice about asking out girls (and boys). Bobby forged permission slips for him and Maddie for field trips, he took them to the doctor when they were sick, and bought them birthday gifts and Christmas presents when Phillip refused to acknowledge the holidays. He doesn’t know what Maddie has done with his room back home, or even if she still owns the Buckley Mansion, but if his room is still intact, he’s sure that his last birthday card from Bobby with a personalized note, is still pinned up on his bulletin board. Bobby is the person he called to bail him out of jail when he got a DUI on graduation night, and when he was arrested for punching out a papparazzi photographer for getting all up in Maddie and her best friend, May’s, faces when they were just sixteen years old.

Bobby is the one that put band-aids on his skinned knees, and wiped his tears after a particularly gruesome face-off with his dad. He’s that man that picked fights with Phillip, and stood up to him even when his father threatened to fire him for overstepping. And Bobby is also the one, that Buck overheard tell his father that if he fired him for taking care of Buck and Maddie, that he would make it his life’s mission to tear down the only thing Phillip Buckley truely cared about - his company, and that he knew all of Phillip’s secrets to do it.

To Buck, Phillip Buckley might have donated his sperm for Buck’s conception, but Bobby Nash is the closest thing he will ever have to a father.

Now, Bobby stands in the doorway to the hospital room, with his hands in his pocket, watching the scene before him with the softest smile on his face. He doesn’t say a word, just lets Buck have his time with Maddie and Chim. Over the years, Buck has gotten pretty good at reading people, and he can tell the way that Bobby carefully shifts from one foot to the other, he’s wondering if he should really be in the room with him. He’s questioning if Buck wanted him there. Not wanting him to doubt his place in their family for one second, Buck pulls away from Chimney and quickly crosses the room to pull Bobby into a bone-crushing hug.

“It’s good to see you, kid.” Bobby says, but chokes on the final word.

Buck thinks back to the last memories he has of Phillip. Memories of wrestling him on the Gambit’s life raft, for a revolver his dad had just used to shoot the boat’s captain. He’d claimed that there wasn’t enough food and water on the life raft for all three of them to survive, and took out the captain first before turning the gun on Buck. Buck knows that Bobby would never of put him in that position. That he’d never be forced to kill him for his own survival. That he wouldn’t sit in the life raft with blood on his hands, staining a leather bound book of secrets because of Bobby Nash. No, Bobby Nash would never.

Buck had been as strong as he could be holding Maddie and Chim, but now, as he desperately clutches Bobby’s suit jacket, he can’t help but let himself fall apart, even if it’s just for a minute in the arms of one of the only people of the planet that has ever made him feel safe.

#buddie fic #green arrow au #buddie au #buddie #911 abc #911 fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #superhero!buck #bodyguard!eddie

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