#fantastic work gang

[lightbluesleeper]

mag 200. my brain chemistry will never be the same

[strawlessandbraless]

What a race, but looks like castiel gets to fuck the righteous man and Jensen can jackel himself off

Reblog to stray further from gods light

[scalierpepper]

I am UNBELIEVABLY excited to share this with you all!!! Hozier x TLT x Reinaeiry !?!?! And I got to make art for it!?!?!?!!?

I put so much tlt love into the artwork and Eiry's cover is absolutely stunning!! Truly a dream project.

Here's the spotify link also!

[peacockpenis]

mischief movie night in beating up their friends (and using great stage combat form!)

[pingvin-king]

[workmate getting me to play GTA V]

workmate: it’s so fun, you can customise your own character! my character looks like me but with a bob haircut

me: that’s neat haha

also me: *receives a vision™️ of my gta oc and spends a while in designing him. also immediately develops his personality and character lore*

[doctorwhoisadhd]

i think more general music classes should include punk rock / metal as a genre

[zu-is-here]

That's why I love so much the Bads ♡♡♡

Solo! (≧∀≦)☆

[catcatb0y]

These mfs wait WEEKS to go visit their Sekai, mf I would be there every DAY. What's up, Miku? Yeah I have like an hour until I need to do something irl, but I don't want to wait in the real world. Heeyyyyy MEIKO, Luka, I made brownies which is totally something I do regularly and not something I did you impress you guyyysss haha wanna eat them with me? Kaito, what's up I am stealing your gender.

I am in there once a WEEK singing my heart out with Miku that's literally THE dream EVER.

Personally if miku kidnapped me through song and told me I should join a band and learn about friendship I would agree instantly regardless of my own personal opinions idk what the prosekai characters are on. “Noo I don’t wanna” you’re saying that to hatsune miku? She died for you on the cross.

[tealvenetianmask]

Inevitable Social Class Take/Why Ghostfuckers Solidified My Need for Blitz to Be "Just an Imp"

There's been discourse since . . . before I ever watched Helluva Boss, on whether Blitz might be half or one quarter incubus, based on a family portrait where his mother, Tilla, looks unusually tall, and her horns lack the thin white stripes usually seen on female imp horns, making them look more like succubus horns. After Ghostfuckers, where Tilla appeared with the stripes on her horns, people are saying that the theory is unlikely. I say GOOD.

Now, let me solidify before I get into this that it's not that I think hybrid imps in Hell aren't also looked down on or treated like shit (look at Striker and the number Hell's society has done on him). It's that Blitz being an incubus hybrid would suggest that he has magical powers of a sort, and that takes away a bit from what I think is so awesome about him.

He has no powers. Only his skill, creativity, spontaneity, optimism, intelligence, and heart. What he does, and what he is at his core, utterly disproves Hell's prejudices about imps and their "purpose."

In the flashback to the time when Blitz and Millie met, Millie flat-out refuses to believe that Blitz works for himself. Because imps work for demons higher in Hell's hierarchy-- it's how the society works.

Blitz could so easily present himself as an exception here (special parentage or no), but instead he presents his worldview as an alternative to what he and Millie have both been taught. Essentially: I can do it. So WE can do it. SO LET'S CHANGE OUR WORLD.

Later, he gives Millie a pep talk that solidifies this worthiness idea.

The idea is really deeply ingrained . . . yikes. But Blitz will have none of it.

And that's what makes him special. Not that he's better than anyone else. The way that he can see beyond prescribed roles and defy society's expectations. And help others see themselves as worthy of doing this too!

Also. ALSO Blitz says he's as fuckable and business savy as any succubus. Which one COULD argue means he's similar to them or has some of their powers. OR it's essentially "I can do what they do without their powers hahaha FUCK LIMITATIONS." (The second is the more empowering option in my opinion.)

He's breaking down society's prejudices one imp assassin at a time! Would this be possible if Blitz were a hybrid and had special powers? Sure. But I definitely think it's more powerful FOR MILLIE without that. If Blitz can be this capable and confident, so can she.

Okay-- that brings us to the final confrontation with Rolando. This guy seems to really buy into Hell's typical attitude toward imps.

Thematically, he's throwing the typical prejudices at them and using his "higher demon" powers to intimidate and seemingly easily defeat them.x

But what defeats him?

Millie's confidence that Blitz inspired, that she believes at her very core, even if she still carries some insecurities.

And Blitz . . . well . . . thinking outside the box and dropping the vacuum cleaner ghostsucker thing in the pool.

Rolando gives Blitz a look like "nice display of confidence- you've got nothing."

And Blitz notices something he can use . . .

And frankly obliterates the guy.

So what's the antidote to the racism and social class issues in Hell? Well they'll probably be around for some time, just like the ones in our society. But they can be challenged for now by the gang just being their fantastic selves- Millie being strong and self-assured, and Blitz being innovative in the moment. And Loona and Moxxie doing SOMETHING when they come back into action. xD

And all of them believing that they're worthy.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The majority of censorship is self-censorship

I'm on tour with my new novel The Bezzle! Catch me TONIGHT in SAN DIEGO (Feb 22, Mysterious Galaxy). After that, it's LA (Saturday night, with Adam Conover), Seattle (Monday, with Neal Stephenson), then Portland, Phoenix and more!

I know a lot of polymaths, but Ada Palmer takes the cake: brilliant science fiction writer, brilliant historian, brilliant librettist, brilliant singer, and then some:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/10/monopoly-begets-monopoly/#terra-ignota

Palmer is a friend and a colleague. In 2018, she, Adrian Johns and I collaborated on "Censorship, Information Control, & Information Revolutions from Printing Press to Internet," a series of grad seminars at the U Chicago History department (where Ada is a tenured prof, specializing in the Inquisition and Renaissance forbidden knowledge):

https://ifk.uchicago.edu/research/faculty-fellow-projects/censorship-information-control-information-revolutions-from-printing-press/

The project had its origins in a party game that Ada and I used to play at SF conventions: Ada would describe a way that the Inquisitions' censors attacked the printing press, and I'd find an extremely parallel maneuver from governments, the entertainment industry or other entities from the much more recent history of internet censorship battles.

With the seminars, we took it to the next level. Each 3h long session featured a roster of speakers from many disciplines, explaining everything from how encryption works to how white nationalists who were radicalized in Vietnam formed an armored-car robbery gang to finance modems and Apple ][+s to link up neo-Nazis across the USA.

We borrowed the structure of these sessions from science fiction conventions, home to a very specific kind of panel that doesn't always work, but when it does, it's fantastic. It was a natural choice: after all, Ada and I know each other through science fiction.

Even if you're not an sf person, you've probably heard of the Hugo Awards, the most prestigious awards in the field, voted on each year by attendees of the annual World Science Fiction Convention (Worldcon). And even if you're not an sf fan, you might have heard about a scandal involving the Hugo Awards, which were held last year in China, a first:

https://www.nbcnews.com/news/world/science-fiction-authors-excluded-hugo-awards-china-rcna139134

A little background: each year's Worldcon is run by a committee of volunteers. These volunteers put together bids to host the Worldcon, and canvass Worldcon attendees to vote in favor of their bid. For many years, a group of Chinese fans attempted to field a successful bid to host a Worldcon, and, eventually, they won.

At the time, there were many concerns: about traveling to a country with a poor human rights record and a reputation for censorship, and about the logistics of customary Worldcon attendees getting visas. During this debate, many international fans pointed to the poor human rights record in the USA (which has hosted the vast majority of Worldcons since their inception), and the absolute ghastly rigmarole the US government subjects many foreign visitors to when they seek visas to come to the US for conventions.

Whatever side of this debate you came down on, it couldn't be denied that the Chinese Worldcon rang a lot of alarm-bells. Communications were spotty, and then the con was unceremoniously rescheduled for months after the original scheduled date, without any good explanation. Rumors swirled of Chinese petty officials muscling their way into the con's administration.

But the real alarm bells started clanging after the Hugo Award ceremony. Normally, after the Hugos are given out, attendees are given paper handouts tallying the nominations and votes, and those numbers are also simultaneously published online. Technically, the Hugo committee has a grace period of some weeks before this data must be published, but at every Worldcon I've attended over the past 30+ years, I left the Hugos with a data-sheet in my hand.

Then, in early December, at the very last moment, the Hugo committee released its data – and all hell broke loose. Numerous, acclaimed works had been unilaterally "disqualified" from the ballot. Many of these were written by writers from the Chinese diaspora, but some works – like an episode of Neil Gaiman's Sandman – were seemingly unconnected to any national considerations.

Readers and writers erupted in outrage, demanding to know what had happened. The Hugo administrators – Americans and Canadians who'd volunteered in those roles for many years and were widely viewed as being members in good standing of the community – were either silent or responded with rude and insulting remarks. One thing they didn't do was explain themselves.

The absence of facts left a void that rumors and speculation rushed in to fill. Stories of Chinese official censorship swirled online, and along with them, a kind of I-told-you-so: China should never have been home to a Worldcon, the country's authoritarian national politics are fundamentally incompatible with a literary festival.

As the outrage mounted and the scandal breached from the confines of science fiction fans and writers to the wider world, more details kept emerging. A damning set of internal leaks revealed that it was those long-serving American and Canadian volunteers who decided to censor the ballot. They did so out of a vague sense that the Chinese state would visit some unspecified sanction on the con if politically unpalatable works appeared on the Hugo ballot. Incredibly, they even compiled clumsy dossiers on nominees, disqualifying one nominee out of a mistaken belief that he had once visited Tibet (it was actually Nepal).

There's no evidence that the Chinese state asked these people to do this. Likewise, it wasn't pressure from the Chinese state that caused them to throw out hundreds of ballots cast by Chinese fans, whom they believed were voting for a "slate" of works (it's not clear if this is the case, but slate voting is permitted under Hugo rules).

All this has raised many questions about the future of the Hugo Awards, and the status of the awards that were given in China. There's widespread concern that Chinese fans involved with the con may face state retaliation due to the negative press that these shenanigans stirred up.

But there's also a lot of questions about censorship, and the nature of both state and private censorship, and the relationship between the two. These are questions that Ada is extremely well-poised to answer; indeed, they're the subject of her book-in-progress, entitled Why We Censor: from the Inquisition to the Internet.

In a magisterial essay for Reactor, Palmer stakes out her central thesis: "The majority of censorship is self-censorship, but the majority of self-censorship is intentionally cultivated by an outside power":

https://reactormag.com/tools-for-thinking-about-censorship/

States – even very powerful states – that wish to censor lack the resources to accomplish totalizing censorship of the sort depicted in Nineteen Eighty-Four. They can't go from house to house, searching every nook and cranny for copies of forbidden literature. The only way to kill an idea is to stop people from expressing it in the first place. Convincing people to censor themselves is, "dollar for dollar and man-hour for man-hour, much cheaper and more impactful than anything else a censorious regime can do."

Ada invokes examples modern and ancient, including from her own area of specialty, the Inquisition and its treatment of Gailileo. The Inquistions didn't set out to silence Galileo. If that had been its objective, it could have just assassinated him. This was cheap, easy and reliable! Instead, the Inquisition persecuted Galileo, in a very high-profile manner, making him and his ideas far more famous.

But this isn't some early example of Inquisitorial Streisand Effect. The point of persecuting Galileo was to convince Descartes to self-censor, which he did. He took his manuscript back from the publisher and cut the sections the Inquisition was likely to find offensive. It wasn't just Descartes: "thousands of other major thinkers of the time wrote differently, spoke differently, chose different projects, and passed different ideas on to the next century because they self-censored after the Galileo trial."

This is direct self-censorship, where people are frightened into silencing themselves. But there's another form of censorship, which Ada calls "middlemen censorship." That's when someone other than the government censors a work because they fear what the government would do if they didn't. Think of Scholastic's cowardly decision to pull inclusive, LGBTQ books out of its book fair selections even though no one had ordered them to do so:

https://www.nytimes.com/2023/05/06/books/scholastic-book-racism-maggie-tokuda-hall.html

This is a form of censorship outsourcing, and it "multiplies the manpower of a censorship system by the number of individuals within its power." The censoring body doesn't need to hire people to search everyone's houses for offensive books – it can frighten editors, publishers, distributors, booksellers and librarians into suppressing the books in the first place.

This outsourcing blurs the line between state and private surveillance. Think about comics. After a series of high-profile Congressional hearings about the supposed danger of comics to impressionable young minds, the comics industry undertook a regime of self-censorship, through which the private Comics Code Authority would vet comings for "dangerous" content before allowing its seal of approval to appear on the comics' covers. Distributors and retailers refused to carry books without a CCA stamp, so publishers refused to publish books unless they could get a CCA stamp.

The CCA was unaccountable, capricious – and racist. By the 60s and 70s, it became clear that comic about Black characters were subjected to much tighter scrutiny than comics featuring white heroes. The CCA would reject "a drop of sweat on the forehead of a Black astronaut as 'too graphic' since it 'could be mistaken for blood.'" Every comic that got sent back by the CCA meant long, brutal reworkings by writers and illustrators to get them past the censors.

The US government never censored heroes like Black Panther, but the chain of events that created the CCA "middleman censors" made sure that Black Panther appeared in far fewer comics starring Marvel's most prominent Black character. An analysis of censorship that tries to draw a line between private and public censorship would say that the government played no role in Black Panther's banishment to obscurity – but without Congressional action, Black Panther would never have faced censorship.

This is why attempts to cleanly divide public and private censorship always break down. Many people will tell you that when Twitter or Facebook blocks content they disagree with, that's not censorship, since censorship is government action, and these are private actors. What they mean is that Twitter and Facebook censorship doesn't violate the First Amendment, but it's perfectly possible to infringe on free speech without violating the US Constitution. What's more, if the government fails to prevent monopolization of our speech forums – like social media – and also declines to offer its own public speech forums that are bound to respect the First Amendment, we can end up with government choices that produce an environment in which some ideas are suppressed wherever they might find an audience – all without violating the Constitution:

https://locusmag.com/2020/01/cory-doctorow-inaction-is-a-form-of-action/

The great censorious regimes of the past – the USSR, the Inquisition – left behind vast troves of bureaucratic records, and these records are full of complaints about the censors' lack of resources. They didn't have the manpower, the office space, the money or the power to erase the ideas they were ordered to suppress. As Ada notes, "In the period that Spain’s Inquisition was wildly out of Rome’s control, the Roman Inquisition even printed manuals to guide its Inquisitors on how to bluff their way through pretending they were on top of what Spain was doing!"

Censors have always done – and still do – their work not by wielding power, but by projecting it. Even the most powerful state actors are not powerful enough to truly censor, in the sense of confiscating every work expressing an idea and punishing everyone who creates such a work. Instead, when they rely on self-censorship, both by individuals and by intermediaries. When censors act to block one work and not another, or when they punish one transgressor while another is free to speak, it's tempting to think that they are following some arcane ruleset that defines when enforcement is strict and when it's weak. But the truth is, they censor erratically because they are too weak to censor comprehensively.

Spectacular acts of censorship and punishment are a performance, "to change the way people act and think." Censors "seek out actions that can cause the maximum number of people to notice and feel their presence, with a minimum of expense and manpower."

The censor can only succeed by convincing us to do their work for them. That's why drawing a line between state censorship and private censorship is such a misleading exercise. Censorship is, and always has been, a public-private partnership.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/22/self-censorship/#hugos

[lalunanymph]

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── hanma loves his sweet wife, and he loves it even more when you’re barefoot and pregnant for him. but, when you complain he needs to lay of off you for a bit, he decides he's never going to fill you up again. unless you beg nicely, of course.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── you're now reading . . . 𝐁𝐄𝐆𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆 + 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊 with hanma shuji

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── wife!reader, fem!reader, mentions of pregnancy, reader is breastfeeding, unprotected s[e]x, oral s[e]x, established marriage, mentions of babies, shuji is obssessed with knocking us up, orgasm denial, future toman!shuji, hanma as a dad, mom!reader, loosely based off the characters in my series back to us

⇤flip back to the pervtober masterlist

It's no secret that Hanma Shuji is a difficult man.

His subordinates, old gang members and even his boss slash best friend, Kisaki Tetta, would bet on saying the same. 

He was brash, violent and impulsive all rolled into one neatly pressed pinstripe suit and nicotine-roughened voice. The tattoos on the back of his hand shone more often than not with blood and gore than anything else, and he grew up on a steady diet of abuse and cheap thrills. 

But, despite all of his atrocities, he was your husband and you loved him.

Even if you were currently exasperated over his determination to knock you up again when you had just came back from the hospital 8 weeks ago.

“Shuji, you have to stop,” your pleading tone slowed the roll of his hips.

Frowning, Hanma took a hard pause from fucking you, the look on his face laced with both confusion and worry.

“Shit, baby,” he plucked your hand from between your legs where it was steadily stimulating your clit, kissing the rise of your knuckles. “Did I hurt you?” 

You shook your head, unable to voice out the anxiety clouding your mind. Shuji, however, was always patient with your unravelling thoughts, and gave you the space you needed to sort out your emotions. 

He had ceased every movement, waiting for you to speak.

“The babies,” you finally managed to mumble. “They’re still so young.” 

Referring to your two sons and daughter, your strange observation had him cocking his head to the side.

“Uh-huh. Shusei is eight, Shiori is two, and Shunki is three months old. Am I missing something here?” 

His tone was tainted with a sheen of frustration, and you could plainly hear the thoughts bouncing in his head: Did she really stop our love making just to ask about the kids?

“N-no,” you whispered, trying to get him to understand. “They’re still so young, Shuji. We… I don’t think we should have any more babies… for now.”

Your voice turned meek towards the end of your suggestion, and you braced yourself for Shuji’s uproar. If there was one thing your husband loved more than pleasing Kisaki and expensive cigars, it was the sight of you swollen and pretty with his babies.

And it wasn’t because of some weird masculine need to spread his seed thoroughly—Shuji actually enjoyed the pregnancy process together with you. 

The six foot five Reaper would shrug off other people’s judgement to get you anything you were craving for even if he was in the middle of a deadly meeting. He was present for every single one of his children’s ultrasounds without fail—except for Shusei’s, but that was a prickly past you had learned to make peace with. Shuji would follow you wherever you went if he wasn’t busy with work, and if he was, he always had a group of men shadowing your every movement, terrified that someone would hurt his precious family once his back was turned. 

As shocking as it was, the great Reaper of Tokyo was actually a fantastic family man. 

Never would anyone in a million years come to that conclusion, but it was the truth. Shuji lived and breathed to take care of his small family… and unfortunately, it came with the territory of knocking you up whenever he felt like it.

Which was currently the issue you were trying to get him to see.

“I need to rest, baby,” you murmured, cupping his face to ease the sting of disappointment you knew he was feeling. “I’ve been pushing out babies for the past three years. My body, it’s… it’s not what it used to be.” 

You gestured at your obvious stretch marks, at the cellulite speckling your thighs and abdomen. “It looks bad… I don’t know. I’m sorry. I felt like I needed to tell you this because I’m… I’m ovulating today.” 

Usually, those golden words would have Shuji seeing red for the whole evening. And you did notice your husband’s throat bobbing at the knowledge of your body being fertile and ready for his cum. 

But, he tried to understand where you were coming from, even if he didn’t like it. 

“Baby,” Shuji cooed, caressing your face with one large palm, inked knuckles grazing your wobbling lower lip. “You’re so fucking beautiful to me, don’t you know? I don’t care about what your body looks like. I love you for you. Plus—” he grabbed your breast fondly, squeezing it much to your gasp of surprise. “—I love how these tits have fed my babies.” He moved his hand lower to your hip, kneading the plush flesh with a playful grin. “And these fucking hips? Majestic, baby. I could live in between your thighs forever.”

His words made your cheeks burn hotly, and you struggled to not let him derail you. Focus on the end goal, Y/N. 

But, it wasn’t like you were going to lie to yourself—you wanted a huge family just like Shuji did. But, he had to understand about spacing out conception times so you didn’t feel like a big, ol’ baby making machine from the 1700s. 

“Shuji, that’s not what I’m saying,” you whined, pouting. He sighed, and rolled you over, his softening cock slipping out of your twitching heat. 

“What is it, darling?” he asked, intent on uncovering what’s got your thoughts in a twist. “If you’re worried I would find you unattractive, I won’t. Every time I remember I’m married to you, I get really nervous like… like, fuck—she’s still with me? I have the most beautiful woman as my wife?” His tone turned teasing, like it always did when he was trying to fluster you. “Give me a bit more credit, will you?”

Of course, you did, and you rolled your eyes, half in exasperation and half in spellbound charm for his sincere words.

“I know, baby,” you said, and took his face in your hands again, willing for him to understand. “But, I need you to promise me one thing—no getting me pregnant this year. Not until Shunki is at least two.” 

Shuji looked like you had just told him to jump off a cliff. His golden eyes widened with disbelief, mouth falling slack. 

“Baby—”

“I mean it, Shuji.”

And he knew you did. His sweet wife rarely sets such harsh boundaries, and he was coming to realise how much he had fucked up. 

“Are you angry with me?” 

The little glimmer of uncertainty and fear that you might leave him again reared its ugly head—something uncommon but understood when memories of what you both went through filled your uneasy mind.

“No, Shuji,” you took his face in your hands, tilting it close enough for your foreheads to touch. “I’m not. I love you. I just… want to not be pregnant for a bit.”

He hummed, the sound slightly fractured towards the end. You could tell Shuji hated this idea with every fibre of his being, but he wasn’t the one physically carrying any of the children. Despite how he had tried to make each of your pregnancies comfortable by constantly being at your beck and call, your reality was different. The swollen ankles, aching muscles, sleepless nights and horrifying cravings were all starting to catch up with you.

If you wanted to give Hanma a big family, you needed to take some breaks in between or else you would lose your mind.

“I get it,” he sighed, those brilliant golden eyes downcast. “It’s your body so it’s your choice. I understand, baby.”

You internally exhaled a sigh of relief. “Thank you, baby,” you sealed your appreciation with a kiss, and Shuji returned the gesture back half-heartedly. Your husband was pouting like a kid whose candy got stolen, and you couldn’t resist a quiet chuckle at his expense.

“Look on the bright side—we could save up a little extra to take the kids for another holiday instead of buying diapers all the time.” 

He met your optimism with a sour expression. “Yeah—if condoms weren’t so damn expensive.”

You fixed him with a disapproving look. “You and I both know that’s not true.”

Shuji rolled his eyes and then pinned you down into the bed with his bigger frame. “So, lemme get this straight—I can still fuck you, still cum in you… but you don’t want my babies?” 

His words ignited a shiver of pleasure down your spine, and you cursed how susceptible you were to your husband’s seduction. Shuji could turn you on simply by lowering his voice and fixing you with his melting stare.

You swallowed hard, unsure how to reply to him. “W-well, yes—”

“Okay, fine,” he mumbled sourly. “Won’t do it, then.” 

Sighing, you shook your head. “Okay, Shuji. Are you okay?” 

He fixed you with an unfathomable look, and you were sure he would say something sarcastic. But, all your husband did was pull you into his embrace, kissing your hair.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. We’re okay.” 

Then, he mumbled, “I won’t cum in you tonight, baby. You can trust me on that.”

And, you did. Shuji had proven to you time and time again how he religiously kept his word. Everytime he said that you were the only one or how he only wanted you in his life, he backed it up with real actions—like spending an entire night awake to take care of Shiori when she was down with a flu while you got your much needed rest; your pregnancy with Shunki wearing you out more than usual. 

You should’ve known Shuji was a man of his words, but like two extremes, Shuji could never find a balance.

And this time, he took his promise overboard. 

“Shuji,” you sobbed, completely lost in your pleasure. “A-Ah, I’m close!” 

Your nails bit into his shoulders, the bathroom tiles shimmering in your periphery. Shuji had your knees pressed to your chest, rearranging your guts with languid strokes as the bath steam perfumed the air with lavender fragrance. 

Your back was pressed to the grand mirror, and his lips were on yours, drinking every honeyed moan you had to offer him. 

Hanging by a single thread of your sanity, you were close enough to taste your orgasm.

Shuji was steadily wrecking you, hellbent on bringing you past the threshold of pleasure that you both barely cared to keep it down.

His hoarse groans were swallowed by your eager mouth, and your every purr went straight to his overstimulated cock.

“Gonna make you feel so good, baby,” he groaned, crowding you further up the cool glass, intent on invading every inch of your space with his dominating presence. “Wanna hear you scream my name—w-wanna… ah, fuck, you don’t want t’get knocked up.”

At the mention of getting you pregnant again, you whined, shaking your head.

“D-don’t—please, Shu.” 

He shook his head, reassuring you with a gentle squeeze on your thigh. “I won’t doll, I won’t. You know I won’t.” 

Your syrupy hiccup was met with a soft, sympathetic kiss on your jaw. 

“Ssh, ssh, darling. Don’t worry your head off, okay—a-ah, oh f—you feel so good.” Shuji’s beautiful golden eyes were heavy with lust, every weighty snap of his hips pushing his shaft to rub your sensitive spots deeper, making you see stars.

“I’m gonna cum,” every fibre of your soul was aching for your husband, your body echoing the same feat—demanding for Shuji to fulfil your gnawing lust. “G-gah, I-I’m g-gonna cum, Shuji—”

“F-fuck, me too, doll—fuck, fuck, you gotta—shit, shit, m’cumming—fuck!” Your husband’s guttural groan right in your ear made your insides flutter around his thick length, and you were rapidly melting for him; first your bones turning jelly, your muscles screaming and then your pussy was pulsing around him, ready to drop over the sweet, sinful edg e—

Shuji yanked you back from the edge when he practically ripped his cock from your swollen depths, jerking his raw and red cock hard. You barely had time to cry out in despair when you felt a hot spray coating your pelvis and thighs. 

The room was spinning, your whited-out mind reemerging back from the fog as one singular thought blared loudly like a hurricane siren: Shuji denied my orgasm. 

The devil in question exhaled out a laugh which stirred the loose hairs stuck to your neck with sweat. “You alright, baby?” 

Your mouth fell open, about to whine out your displeasure, when he tilted your face up, handsome face completely suffused with love as he kissed you slow and deep.

“You should get cleaned up,” he murmured, lips a heated stroke from yours, and yet so far away.

“Shuji—”

“I have some documents to wrap up,” he pried himself free from the beckoning circle of your arms, his smile touched with regret.

All you could do was gawk at him, dumbfounded by how he brushed your arousal aside like it barely even mattered. This was out of character for the man you intimately knew as your husband. Shuji had once eaten you out until his jaw went numb just so he could feel you cum on his tongue—his blase attitude towards your denied orgasm didn’t make sense.

“H-hey, I didn’t cum yet—”

“Hmm?” he cut you off, a pinch in his brow. “What do you mean, baby?” 

Flushing in anger, you pried him back into your arms, jaw clenched in fury. “Don’t be an asshole, Shu. I didn’t cum yet and I was so close. You knew I was close—”

“Sheesh, okay,” Shuji gently disentangled your hands from his body, giving you a smug grin. “I know you’re always a bitch in heat for me, but I honestly thought you came already.” 

Your jaw fell open, the anger giving way to disbelief. Your husband quickly pecked your cheek, backing away on his long legs in preparation for your mounting wrath. 

Quickly hopping onto your feet, you fully intended to chase him down and make him get on his knees for being so mean to you, when a familiar cry over the baby monitor stopped you short.

Shuji had already disappeared into his office, and you were left with the selfish decision of marching in to give him a piece of your frazzled mind, or tending to your baby. In the end, your motherly instinct won out, and you quickly slipped on your night robe, wincing at how you had to wash it now that the material had touched your husband’s cum as you hurried down the hallway to Shunki’s room.

Your baby boy was red in the face, screaming at the top of his lungs to be fed. You didn’t hesitate to shrug off one shoulder of your robe, placating him with your milk as he latched on hungrily. You fed your son and rocked him gently, brushing the baby fuzz on his head to get him to calm down. Once Shunki had his fill, you burped and cuddled him, waiting for his eyes to slip close after a fulfilling feeding.

Setting your son down to sleep in the crib, you had to take a quick shower and hurry to tuck both Shiori and Shusei in.

Once the children were all asleep, you had almost forgotten about the simmering lust in your veins, until the reminder of your soiled robe in the hamper stopped you up short.

Shuji would be working till late tonight, and there was no chance of him tending to your needs.

Somehow, you sensed it was because of the boundary you placed on him a few days ago which incited your husband’s petty actions. Which was a shame, because you were about to suggest hopping back on the pill if he refused to wear a condom. It’s not like you hadn’t done it before; at least one of you had to be responsible for the family planning, and unfortunately, the onus seemed to fall on your shoulders. 

So, you trudged back to bed, too tired to deal with your arousal and hoping it would go away when morning came.

… Only, you couldn’t fall asleep.

You stayed awake, tossing and turning; wishing Shuji were here to hold you. 

Unbidden, you reached for his side of the bed and found it empty. 

Lying up, you rubbed your eyes, reaching for your thin cardigan. Even though you were angry with him, you still wanted his comfort and love. Without a second thought, you trudged into his office, startling him from his papers.

“Oh? Darling.” 

Like a child, you padded over to him, throwing yourself onto his lap and burying your face in his neck. 

Shuji held you close, inhaling the scent of lavender from your hair greedily. “Couldn’t sleep?” 

“Mhm,” you smacked his chest lightly. “‘Cause of you, dumbass.”

His deep laughter rumbled under your cheek. “What did I do now?”

“Don’t act stupid,” you grumbled under your breath. 

“Baby, I’m serious.”

This close to him, your senses were ignited and tingling; a rush of desire flooding south to stain your innocent cotton panties with a bone-deep need for your husband.

“You’re so mean, Shuji,” your whine reached his heated ears, and he strangled back a chuckle at your expense. Sensing your cresting arousal, he ran his rough palms down your back, warming you up under your thin night clothes. 

“Yeah, I guess I was. I didn’t make my baby cum. I’m a bad husband for that.” 

“Mhm hmm,” you petulantly agreed. Sitting straighter, you inched off his lap to perch on the edge of his desk. Parting your legs, you dangled your arousal right in front of him, the innocence on the curve of your brow contrasting vividly with the wet spot his sights immediately latched onto. “So, what’re you going to do to make it up to me?” 

His hollow chuckle sounded strained, even to his own ears. He wrapped an inked palm on your bare thigh, calloused thumb rubbing circles into the heated flesh. 

“I guess you have to show me, darling.” 

This was the thing about your husband; while you were given full reign on the house and his emotions, Shuji still held all the cards when it came to your body. You had barely cared before; he had always made sure to put your pleasure above anything else in his life. But, in this instant, when you could feel the tides of power shifting uncertainty from one stubborn end to another, the ball was in your court to determine how you wanted this night to end.

Shuji was giving you both an out and an in—waiting on the choice you were going to make.

Without a word, you nudged his hand away, and parted your thighs further, slowly inching down your panties. His pen dug into your side, and you impatiently shoved it away, the pesky item rolling down the desk to clatter onto the floor. 

Once your cunt was naked and dripping in front of him, you didn’t hesitate to rub your clit, literally taking your pleasure into your own hands.

“Is this how you wanted me to react?” you quietly goaded, a fire in your eyes he found breathtakingly beautiful. Shuji responded by sitting back into his chair to get a good look at you touching yourself, those golden eyes infuriatingly unreadable. “By forcing your hand? You’re sick, Shuji. J-just because I enforced a boundary, you—nghh—want to punish me.” 

Your circles turned jerky, the previously denied orgasm he didn’t give you rearing fully back to the surface. The room was sticky and hot, the air saturated with the smell of seduction and repressed need.

You couldn’t see it, but Shuji was holding tightly to the arms of his desk chair, outwardly patient while you got yourself off; inwardly dying to feel your walls choke his cock. 

However, he hesitated to react; in some sick, twisted sense, he wanted to see how far he could push you—how much you could take until you crumbled.

He was always the more active one in pursuing your physical pleasure while you allowed him to dominate you and lead you down endless carnal paths. This time, Shuji took one step back, letting you decide what you wanted—because to him, your words and actions weren’t matching. The woman who didn’t want him to breed her, was displaying her pussy fully just for him; begging him earlier this now to make her cum. Every part of you begged for him deep inside you, but he had to make sure this was what you truly wanted.

“Shuji,” your sweet whine made his cock throb. “God—f-fuck—must I beg you to touch me?”

Immediately he pushed your hand aside, cheek pressed to the inside of your thigh as he greedily inhaled your arousal. In hindsight, it was your fault for goading him, because for the next hour, Shuji ate you out until you were dripping onto his proposal papers, smearing Toman’s next steps around your sweaty, writhing body as you came again and again for your husband.

His tongue rubbed on your tender spots deep inside you, his nose pressed firmly against your clit, rubbing back and forth back and forth until you cried out gonna cum again Shu, g-gonna cum again—

He let you grind your pussy all over his face, let your hands twine in his hair to hold him in place while you found your unravelling for the third time tonight.

Once your thighs had stopped spasming, he eased back, lips glossy and lower chin drenched in your juices. 

Pulling you into his lap, Shuji’s hard cock strained against his slacks, surely leaking now from how long he had teased himself—held himself back from ravaging you like you deserved. But, even saints were humans who had a limit to their patience, and Shuji would never delude himself to believe he was a good man.

He was as rotten as they came—corrupted both inside and out. But, his love for you would always be his salvation. 

You brought out the man underneath the monster; only you were able to claw him out from the dark and into your arms. 

You were his salvation, and Shuji was going to make sure you were ruined for him. 

“Undress me.” 

Those hooded golden eyes pushed you to unbuckle his belt first, your shaky hands pressing down on his broad pecs, trembling when they unbuttoned his dress shirt. 

Shuji simply sat back, studying the adorable concentration scrunching your brow as you tried to quickly take what you wanted. His dress shirt slid down his scarred shoulders, and his cock finally sprang free from behind the restrictive material of his slacks. 

It was your turn to undress. You eased the flimsy silk nightgown from your shoulders, letting it fall in a pool by your waist. Shuji’s intensity threatened to swallow you whole—from the smouldering heat in his amber eyes to his parted lips, he was looking at you like you were a rare feast laid out for him.

Those large palms cupped your breasts, massaging your swollen nipples and toying with them until you winced. He lifted you up slightly to slide the pretty black nightgown fully off you, leaving you bare and vulnerable just for his scrutiny. 

Shuji’s lips were on yours, drowning you with his kisses that tasted of whisky and cloying impatience. You drank him in deeply, until you felt like your lungs would puncture and overflow. His tongue slipped past the shaky barrier of your mouth, intimately dancing with yours as you both savoured and teased each other.

“Shuji…” your breathless sigh never failed to get him light-headed. He loved how his name always sounded coming from your sacred lips. 

Cupping your face in his hands, he gently pecked your nose, cheeks and lips, while subtly nudging you further up his torso so his cock could brush your entrance. Your first gasp rang through the room, the sensation of his fat tip pushing past the tight muscle an experience you never wanted to give up.

Suddenly, this game of cat and mouse snapped your patience in half, and you wanted nothing more than to feel his hot cum flooding your womb.

“Shuji…” your gasp was swallowed by his feral mouth on yours, kissing away any of your anticipated complaints.

But, you were done restricting your husband from the most tender parts of yourself. It was his right to defile you; to drive his hips deeper and deeper into you until you bore him the fruits of both your labours.

Sacrilege was never giving Hanma Shuji what he wanted when all he wanted was you.

“I need you…” 

Hanma’s ears pricked, hearing something more than desperation in your sweet request.

“Yeah, doll? What do you need?”

He would always have a sixth sense whenever you were struggling with piecing together your needs. Shuji wanted to count all of your insecurities and pin them onto the bruises of his body just so he could brush them softly whenever they started to hurt.

Lifting your glossy, tear-filled eyes, you hiccuped: “You.”

His chuckle brushed your parted mouth, nose grazing yours. “You already have me.”

“No,” you whined, bucking your hips to take him at a deeper angle. The both of you hissed out curses, the sloppy sounds of your pussy taking his dick growing louder and fervent. “No, I want you. A-all of you.”

The pricking in his ears turned into a roaring. Shuji couldn’t make out a maths equation for his life, but he was pretty sure he counted every cadence of desire in your tone which led him to one singular conclusion: you were begging to be bred.

A smile of pure triumph spread across his face, hidden in your hair. “Yeah?” he struggled to keep his voice from shaking in excitement. “But, you already have me, doll. What more could you want?” 

He meant to tease you; to goad you further until you broke and bent just for him.

Shuji needed to hear those words leaving your lips, all for the sake of his bruised ego.

“I… I need you.” Your soft bleat went straight to his heart. God, he was so fucking in love with you; no one could change that fact. Come hell or high water, Shuji was all fucking yours till the end. 

He kissed your temple, soft and unhurried with his thrusts. “Where do you need me, baby?”

Close. He was so close to breaking you.

You groaned, the sound filled with lust and frustration—a little bit of your insanity leaking through. “Shuji!” 

If your whine was meant to scare him into acting, all it did was make his bastard grin grow wider. Hanma kissed down your neck, placating your impatience with the sweet temptation of his lips. You tensed in his arms, ready to slip down the freefall. But, his hesitation was keeping you from fulfilling your high.

One minute turned into two. The inner restraint you harboured fraying at the edges, like a glass dome showing cracks in the middle. Rocked by an earthquake, your resolve was fracturing bit by bit. Shiny shards slipped down your cheeks when the axis tilted and spun but never broke you—and so, you decided to take a sledgehammer to your own stubbornness and shatter those walls.

“Inside!” Your cry could’ve woken up the neighbours if Shuji hadn’t smartly made his entire office soundproof. “I want you—ngh—inside!” 

Your husband didn’t waste a single second. Grabbing you by the plush fat of your thighs, he nudged you up in one swift move, spreading you across his wide, oak desk. Shuji’s snarl would’ve been terrifying if you weren’t so relieved to feel him going deeper, throwing your legs over his shoulders to touch that spot inside that always made you melt for him.

His face was between your breasts, peppering the jiggling flesh with soft kisses and sharp nips which made you squeal. Shuji used every bit of his strength to push his hips forward, over and over again until you saw stars in the back of your eyelids—your orgasm threatening to explode like the formation of a new universe.

You welcomed the implosion with open arms, your lips on his; the desk rattling and eventually groaning as the full effects of your passions ricocheted around the room. 

Shuji’s gritted cry of your name, and your delirious moan melted into a sloppy meeting of tongues and teeth, his warmth filling you up, right where he belonged in the deep embrace of your body. 

You held him close to your thrumming heart, feeling him soften and relax in your hold. 

For a long minute, neither of you spoke—Shuji was afraid to look up in case he crossed a line, and you were dazed, trying to recover from your earth-shattering release.

He felt your fingers scratching his scalp, and that little move was enough for him to summon a shred of courage to look you in the eye. Your smile was soft, if a little hazy, those pretty eyes latched onto him with a woozy affection. 

“Are you okay?” Shuji gripped your hand tightly in his, hoping he hadn’t scared you away again. 

But, you shook your head, beaming angelically at him. “I’m fine, Shu.”

His nickname and your relaxed countenance made some of the fears stop dancing in his mind. He heaved a sigh of relief, pressing his forehead to your neck and inhaling your sweet scent lightly.

How could you have ever denied your husband what he wanted whenever he looked at you with such pure love in his eyes?

Every fibre of his body echoed an affection which remained steadfast and sure—you were positive if it resulted in more love to bring into this household, you would welcome those blessings with open arms.

“What changed your mind?” 

You hummed, relaxing further into the unyielding wood, safe and sound in his embrace. 

“You.” 

Shuji furrowed his brow, glancing up into your serene expression. “Huh?” 

Your laughter was pure and unaffected. “I want only you, Shuji. How could I say ‘no’ to more babies if it means we have more proof of our love? We always wanted to build a big family, and I want to do that with you.” 

Unexpectedly, he felt a lump grow in his throat. “Doll, you don’t have to do this for me. It’s your body—”

You shushed his complaints, giving him a look. “I want this,” you emphasised. “I want this with you—forever. So, you better make sure we have enough money to send the kids to college, Shuji… because we’ll be paying tuition fees for a long time.”

His answering giggle made more sticky sweet love bloom in your soul. “You got it, doll. I’ll work my ass off for you. Break more rules for ya. Up the drug prices to squeeze everyone dry till our babies are big enough. I love you.” 

And you knew Shuji would keep his word—he was a man of integrity as much as he was rotten on the inside. A man of trust and fulfilment only for you. 

Just then, the baby monitor he kept in his desk crackled, and Shunki cried out for his nightly feed.

Both you and Shuji lurched into action, slipping on your clothes in record speed. Your baby boy’s cries even catalysed Shuji into sprinting down the hallways, and he was there first thanks to his longer legs, cradling his son close to his chest while you caught up. 

“Give him here,” you hummed, taking the wailing bundle from Shuji and slipping down your nightgown to press one plump nipple past his tiny lips. 

Shuji watched you feed his son with pure love in his eyes, leaning back against the old, chipped yellow crib with arms loosely perched on his side. Absorbing this scene and imprinting it onto his brain as the idea of his perfect version of heaven.

If fate would allow it, he wanted a moment like this with you for forever. 

Nevermind his dangerous occupation or the nature of his lifestyle. You, Shunki, Shusei and Shiori were the only specks of light in his otherwise fucked up world. Hanma would fight tooth and nail to keep every one of you safe, and he would put every dream of his own on hold just to see his little family happy.

As soon as that thought arose, the door to the nursery swung open, and Shiori crept in, curious by her two parents who were still awake. Hanma lifted her into his arms, cooing softly at his sleepy, baby girl. Shusei, too, ignored your rule for sleeping early on school nights to peek into Shunki’s room. His father called him over, and Shuji easily lifted his other baby boy into the seam of his side, cradling them both while you fed your youngest.

All three of them were piled onto the soft couch you often sat on as you pumped more milk for Shunki, and Shuji was drowsily recounting a story for his other two children.

“... the elephant then said to the fairy: I want to be a cat today, and the fairy—” 

You sat down next to him, Shunki still in your arms, and admired how both your children looked at their father with honest admiration and adoration in their twin golden eyes. 

Shusei, who was following the story with rapt attention, smirked at his sister.

“I told you the elephant became a cat but you didn’t believe me.” 

In answer, Shiori stuck out her tongue. “No!” 

They were both about to bicker when Shuji stopped them with one large palm on each of their tinier heads. “Kids, let’s not start to fight, yeah? You’ll wake your baby brother up.”

All three golden eyes latched onto the sleeping infant in your arms, and you smiled at them. “Your tou-chan’s right. Shunki is really grumpy at night when he doesn’t sleep well.” Levelling them a look, you had to play the stern parent when you realised Shuji wasn’t going to say a word about how they both were up past their bedtime.

“Speaking of, aren’t you two supposed to be asleep?” 

Cheekily, Shusei shook his head. “Can’t sleep, mama. Wanna see Shunki again.”

Like the adoring big brother he was, your oldest son clambered towards you, his head on your shoulder as he stared intently at his baby brother. Shiori, too, was curious and Shuji let her go, carefully helping her down the sofa so she could rest her head on your knee. Carefully, you untucked one arm to pat her messy bedhead, fondly smiling down at your daughter. 

Shunki gurgled and burped in his sleep, eliciting giggles from all four of you. 

“He’s like a doll,” Shusei murmured.

“A doll,” Shiori echoed, always following her brother’s lead. 

“Yeah,” Shuji leaned forward, taking a spare moment out of his busy day to have this time with his family. “The cutest doll. Makes you want to have another sibling, huh?” 

Shusei groused, “Mama just gave birth.”

Shiori giggled. “More, more.” 

Hanma smiled at his daughter’s excitement, knowing his middle child was the most excited for a baby sister so she wouldn’t be the only girl in the line-up.

“We’ll get you both another sister.”

Again, you were scandalised by Shuji’s blatant promise to the kids, like he did a year ago before Shunki’s conception. He was filling the children with hope, cornering your decision so you couldn’t change your mind, not when they were already this invested. 

What a scheming, cunning asshole.

“Maybe we can all ask papa to take us to Disney World when Shunki is a little older—would you want that? And your new sister can join, too. We’ll make papa carry all the bags.”

Your quick plan was met with pure excitement from both of your children, and Shunki nearly roused awake if you hadn’t clamped one hand around his ear to block out their hushed squeals.

“Disney World!” 

“Didney World!” 

Shuji winced, and you knew you were triumphant when he conceded letting his children clamber back into his lap, pawing at his clothes and face as they excitedly enthused about a trip which hadn't even happened yet.

As your husband shot you a look of exasperation, all you did was grin cheekily back at him, your baby still miraculously asleep in your arms.

All was perfect in the Hanmas’ house and your life.

intellectual property of ©️lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or play around with my sentence structures, plots and characterization.

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

ABSOLUTELY DELICIOUS S2 BTS VIDEO! :)❤ 🐍😊

David: Good Omens 2 will be once more unto the breach...

Michael: The kind of world that Neil and Terry Pratchett created here. It's... it seems to be expanding out into the world in all kinds of unexpected and and truly joyful ways.

Douglas Mackinnon (the directior): If Season one was a comedy about the End of the World, Season Two is a comedy about the beginning of everything else.

Miranda Richardson (demon Shax): The Bromance is continuing.

Doon Mackichan (Archangel Michael): What a cast, is all I can say, incredible, incredible cast.

Liz Carr (angel Saraqael): But of course a script of Good Omens is a whole different thing because anything can happen.

Shelley Con (Prince of Hell Beelzebub): There's always a smirk somewhere around the corner in a Good Omens script.

Quelin Sepulveda (angel Muriel): I had no idea what to expect, where this character was gonna go...

Liz: I feel quite honored that when they were thinking of the realms of sarcasm they thought of me.

Gloria Obianyo (angel Uriel): Seven-year-old me is like, 'Oh my God! This is the stuff of dreams!'

Maggie Service (human Maggie): A whole Fantastical Universe of joy that we just get to playing and you'll get to watch.

Tim Downie (Mr Brown): I am immeasurably, immeasurably excited.

Jon Hamm (Archangel Gabriel / Jim): You know I was very pleased when when I was brought back to be a part of that story.

Neil Gaiman: Ppeople are excited and I'm working so hard to tell them absolutely nothing. I'm very lucky because Michael Sheen and David Tennant love Crowley and Aziraphale. I think the first moment that I saw David and Michael acting together... all of a sudden there was Crowley and there was Aziraphale, it was like seeing two friends who I hadn't seen for years.

David: There's something about the way Neil sees the mundane that is extraordinary and there's something about the way things filter through his imagination and of course in this world it also sprinkled with the imagination of Terry Pratchett and those two together created this cocktail that is it's unlike anything you've seen anywhere else and yet it feels utterly familiar.

Michael: And they both have a sense of the absurdity of what it is to be a human.

Rob Wilkins: When you've got David and Michael in front of the camera David and Michael evaporate and you have Crowley in Aziraphale and that relationship it needed it needed interrogating more and of course we all know that Terry and Neil had conversations about what the sequel would be and Neil has taken that and he's blown it up in a way that the viewers are just going to love so what would Terry think? Terry would pat Neil on the back and he would push Good Omens forward, he would break a bottle of champagne over its bows and be absolutely delighted and I know that, I'm the one person on Earth who's been entrusted to know that for certain and I promise you Terry would be absolutely delighted.

David: We've got some cast members coming back, returning but playing different parts which is a lovely little addition to things isn't it, so Miranda Richardson is back not playing the same role as Season One, she's now Shax, my replacement - Crowley's replacement on Earth.

Neil: Shelley Conn came in as Beelzebub and it feels in a weird way kind of like a Doctor Who Regeneration. We have a new demon called Furfur played by Rheece Shearsmith who was our Shakespeare in Season One.

David: Nina and Maggie were two of the Sisters in Season One, The nunnery of Doom, and now they are two characters imaginatively called Nina and Maggie.

Maggie: In season one really it was just me and the nuns, it was the nun gang, so to actually get to meet Aziraphale and Crowley... I hadn't been prepared for how delightful Aziraphale is.

Neil: Season Two begins about threem four years after the events of Season One.

Michael: Aziraphale and Crowley now are, you know, out on their own, they're.. they're a team to themselves.

Neil: Everything changes when Aziraphale gets an unexpected visitor.

Michael: A familiar face comes along with a mystery that needs solving and as Aziraphale and Crowley attempt to solve that mystery they realize that there are much more terrifying things ahead than they've had to deal with in the past. That involves having to go back through history as well to get clues as to what might be going on.

David: When we go back into these stories set within Aziraphale and Crowley's personal history there are moments within those stories where where their relationships sort of pivots or develops in some way. Himself and Aziraphale I think rely on each other even more in season two than they did in Season One because they are by necessity and by circumstance they're a they're a double act that nobody else can join.

Michael: It's extraordinary to see how important these characters and this story have become to a lot of people and how much people enjoy expressing themselves through art, through fan fiction.

David: I went to a Comic-Con and the amount of Crowleys and Aziraphales that I saw everywhere, the cosplaying just took off, and always in twos, which was joyous because of course the characters in my mind only exist in relation to each other. They are the Ying and the Yang.

Michael: It's such a... I think it's such a compliment and I think Neil feels the same way as well.

Maggie: Always clever Neil Gaiman, isn't he?

Nina: Yeah yeah, you'd have to sort of admit that at some point, yeah-

Maggie: He's quite good at his job.

[paddockbunny]

Fraternisation Clause

Summary : Working for McLaren is hard, being Lando’s PR girl is even harder….so maybe you need to make a tough decision that will be even harder yet Rating : 16+ Pairing: Lando x Reader Word Count : 1474 words Trigger Warnings : language but clean Images : curated from Pintrest Authors Note : there are probably a few bits in here that aren’t exactly how things are in the actual paddock / McLaren hierarchy so just ignore it and take it for the work of fiction it is ☺️

Abu Dhabi ‘23

It was time to go. You knew that. Everything you could accomplish in your role, you had. The opportunity being offered to you was too great to pass up and if you were honest the move truly excited (and somewhat scared) you. But, it was a step up the ladder and it was a ladder that you really wanted to climb. As you swiped your credentials on the paddock barriers you saw your colleagues and friends awaiting you. Leaving them all behind was exceptionally tough as really, you had all become a little family. You enjoyed pizza nights, drunken karaoke, practical jokes and laughter and tears with them during your four year tenure. As they looked at you with a mixture of smiles and pouting lips it really hit you how tough it was to be leaving and even worse how you wouldn’t be a part of the gang anymore. For twenty four weeks of the year you guys were going to be in the exact same place and yet not be as close anymore. It was such a bittersweet feeling. But, you remembered as some of your new team mates walked past in their crisp white shirts, when Mercedes come a calling, you answer the call.

The night sky was illuminated by an array of bright explosions of colour as fireworks crescendoed overhead. You were already down awaiting Lando to begin media duties so couldn’t really engage in the end of session celebrations like you would have liked. But still it was nice to imagine the pretty illuminations overhead were all for you.

As you waited for Lando to be weighed and take his helmet and balaclava off you couldn’t help but smile. He finished P5 and P7 in the overall standings. An excellent effort and he could be extremely proud he equalled himself for the previous 22 season - considering how tough the car had been, it was fantastic. It had been a long, sometimes stressful, crazy ride being Lando Norris’ PR officer but you would be lying if you said you hadn’t enjoyed every single last millisecond of it. At the start you had an immature, slightly naive guy who matured into a funny, charismatic, caring man. You smirked knowing it couldn’t have been easy for him working with you at the start either. You weren’t as regimented as you had become and he was often late, missing caps or passes, he even got fined for being late to the national anthem ceremony once because you forgot to fetch him, but you were fresh out of university and learning right along side him. It was a baptism of fire and you loved it. And honestly, you couldn’t have imagined anyone else being your F1 virginity stealer.

However, as you waited for him and reminisced you felt overcome by a horrible sadness. See you thought Lando would have been happy for you to move on and be promoted - go on to bigger better things - but he wasn’t. After accepting Mercedes offer and putting in your formal notice, Lando was the first person you told and boy, it did go well. He immedietly told you you were doing the wrong thing and joining Mercedes wasn’t the right move. He passionately attempted to deter you from moving and even got angry when you tried to calm him down. You had never before seen Lando upset like what he was that night - sure during a race or whatnot but that was because he was competitive - So it was totally unexpected. He asked if it were the pay making you leave and even offered to pay you more from his own wages (which insulted you). He asked if you were being forced out, if something had happened with another member of the team (which it hadn’t). Then he asked if it was because you didn’t want to work with him anymore and it caught somewhere in your throat.

If this had been ‘22 you would haven’t hesitated to laugh at the insinuation and make a quip about him being cocksure of himself. But it wasn’t. It was the end of 2023 and you knew yourself things had shifted between the pair of you. In the past 12 months Lando and you had come close to blurring the professional lines and you were able to realise how dangerous that truly was. Nothing had ever happened that could have been considered inappropriate but you couldn’t be one hundred percent you didn’t want it too. And that was what scared you. McLaren had an employee fraternisation clause which clearly stated that employees could not carry out romantic or sexual relationships between other employees particularly those where one employee is in a higher up position. And it didn’t take the brain of Britain to know Lando was their “star” and you were just another foot soldier. There was no way they would keep you over their superstar driver. And besides, it was known amongst the PR team that Lando had a little thing for you as way back as 2020 when you first started working with him but you had always laughed it off, rolled you eyes and played it down.

“He’s just a kid, don’t be daft” you would be heard quipping back. But for some reason, after the prior year, you spend the season pretending you didn’t know he was staring at you, that he was making you laugh on purpose, that he was finding any reason to touch you, be close to you and even invite you to things without anyone else from the team being there. You knew it would only be a matter of time before Lando would try to move things in a different direction - in particular, you knew he would do something stupid like try and kiss you and you would do something even more stupid and kiss him back.

So you walked away. You took the call and accepted the Mercedes offer of becoming a PR Manager (instead of PR officer). You had thought about it at length, toiled over it. And while you knew he might not understand why, you thought he would still be happy for you. You hadn’t expected the attitude he had shown to you over the course of the past three races. The silence, the grunting for responses, not even looking at you as you were talking to him.

You looked up to find him almost in front of you as the fireworks continued overhead. He held out his hand for his water bottle and little bag full of promotional bracelets and watch. “Well done, it’s been a good year.” You tried to tell him but he either didn’t hear you from the loud bangs and the start of the podium celebrations or he was deliberately ignoring you. You swallowed, wishing this was all different. You really could do with a Lando hug right now but as you started off toward the media pen, neither of you said a word to each other. And then after media he announced he had a plane waiting so he wouldn’t be hanging around. You wanted to remind him you were leaving and it was your last day so it would mean a lot if he could hang around for just 10 minutes but before you could muster up the courage to do it, he ducked into his drivers room while you were busy on a call and that was it. You looked for him to say goodbye (at bare minimum) and wish him a happy holidays but he was gone. He didn’t care. He didn’t even want to be your friend anymore.

Things were being wrapped up. Everyone was excited to get going. People wanted to party, celebrate the end of another year. They wanted to call their families and say they would be home soon and make plans for their time off. So when you walked into the McLaren hospitality suite to a riotous round of applause and hollering you were left a gasp and the tears started flowing. You hadn’t expected anyone outside of your small little trackside PR team to care you were off, but that was downright idiotic to think they would let you slink off. That wasn’t McLarens style. But still you didn’t expect all the hullabaloo. The room was packed with different people across each discipline. The mechanics you knew were there, the strat guys, chefs from the kitchens, office folk and even Zak was standing front and centre. So many people across the whole garage came to say goodbye. There was a cake and a “Bon voyage” banner. Your smile erupted across your face as your friends came rushing toward you to engulf you in a huge hug. The earlier sadness due to your strained friendship with Lando was pushed straight to the back of your mind. Right now, you felt special. You felt loved.

You couldn’t help but wish Lando was here too. You wished he had stayed to say goodbye.

[ajaxbell]

Fangs of Fortune (Bai Ze Ling): perfect on pure aesthetics alone, but also it will tear your heart out while being very gay.

I was lured in to this show by Tumblr gifsets and friends on Bluesky talking about how queer and poly this show is. I'm old and I've been in fandom more than half my life. I know how to read queer subtext. I'm also pretty well versed in cdramas, so again, I know how to read subtext. So I went into this ready to, well, read the subtext.

But no this show is just puts the queer it right there in the text. The vague information we have about Chinese censorship repeatedly left me asking, 'wait how are they getting away with this?' Like some of these jokes and implications are just so blatant it seems incredible this show ever made it to being broadcast. It just feels very much like queer media made for queer people even if t's more subtle than something western like Queer as Folk.

Even without the heavy coloring of gay this show is incredible and so much more than I expected from the title and the promo. The premise is essentially the death of the goddess, who governed relations between humans and demons, leads to an influx of demons in the human world. This brings together the goddess's disciple, Wen Xiao--seeking to restore the goddess's power. WX's childhood sweetheart, Zhuo Yichen--seeking to restore the demon-hunting bureau after the powerful demon Zhu Yan killed his father and brother. It opens on Zhu Yan, in human disguise as as Zhao Yuanzhou, volunteering to help the imperial court restore the demon-hunting bureau to quell the chaos. They are joined by Pei Sijing, a retired female general from the rival demon hunting sect, and a very young doctor (and comic relief) named Bai Jiu. It starts off as a sort of monster-of-the-week with a grim Scooby gang doing detective work and fighting monsters. Each major demon has a mini arc that relates to the larger case (restoring the power of the goddess to balance the realms), and they are repeatedly blocked by either the demons or the rival demon hunting sect. Each mini arc also acts as a mirror or parallel story to slowly revealed backstory of all the main characters as well. In true cdrama fashion it's a mix of adventure, intense emotional drama, romance, and comedy. And queer and poly jokes and romance. It also has a kind of manga vibe in the way the comedy is woven into the more serious story, and in the fantastical depiction of the characters and how the story unfolds.

It is also just insanely beautiful. Every single shot is lovely. The costumes, make up, and hair are incredible. The casting director made all the major demons inhumanly beautiful. The sets are spectacular. The effects are nicely done. Every bit of has the vague surreality of a fairytale. The perfection of each shot ads to the manga vibe, as if we're seeing each critical storytelling panel come alive. There's recurring water-based special effects that are just gorgeous. Based on aesthetics alone this show would be worth watching to me. That it is combined with a complex, very emotional story is a spectacular gift to the watcher. A lot of the negative reviews of this complain about the staginess or that it's overly contrived in how each scene is shot. But I think it's gorgeous, works perfectly with the storytelling, and if we criticize art on whether it achieves the goal it intended then this show is doing exactly and perfectly what it means to do and doing it beautifully.

Additionally the acting is also very good, but Neo Hou is the stand out for sure. I enjoyed him in Back from the Brink, especially the later part of the story, but in Fangs of Fortune he's transformed, utterly embodying the role, the way Dylan Wang is Dongfang Qingcang in Love Between Fairy and Devil. Neo Hou has the right look, a slightly uncanny beauty perfect for a gorgeous immortal not of this world. The show does incredible things with his styling between the various looks and personas the role requires. But in acting he somehow manages to utterly transform his face and demeanor to manifest each aspect of the character as story demands changes from him.

There is a lot of crying in this drama. Like early on I joked that there was going to be a character crying a single perfect tear in every ep. Lol nope. Multiple single perfect tears per ep and many outright full on sobbing scenes. This show is just waiting to rip your heart out and you see it right from the beginning. But it was such sweet pain all the way through. Just a truly engaging and utterly wrenching set of intertwined stories.

My only criticism is that the pacing falls apart in the last 3 episodes. But overall the story is solid through the end, though like so many cdramas, it's saved by the epilogue.

You should absolutely watch it if you want the chaotic bi polycule (it's her, her girlfriend, her boyfriend, her boyfriend's boyfriend who is also her boyfriend, their two idiot sons, and her boyfriend's ex-who is also eventually sort of his boyfriend again), or if you want your heart torn out and stomped on. Or even if you just like really gorgeous cinematic things. Also if you watch, please don't skip the ending credits, as they change as the arcs change, and the radiant joy Tian Jiarui has as he dances is an excellent antidote to the emotions of each episode.

[medusagorgongirl1]

Picture this, Tim drake in his robin era. He's on the young justice team (he is their fantastic and mysterious leader thank you very much), he's batman's protege (and sure that began rocky but it's improving), and his parents are alive (he's gotta one up his predecessors in some way), and you know what, life is good.

Until of course his parents are coming planning to come to town, and he's looking at his grades because they're not that fantastic and everyone wants their parents to see good grades so he's (frantically) picking up the slack

And yeah he probably shouldn't be working on his math notes and homework in the common area, but, well tough shit, logarithmic aren't going to wait

And that's where kon find him, half bent over a notebook scribbling away with his nose inches from his laptop... this is typical Rob behavior in Kon's eyes, though a tad more stressed than usual

"What kinda report has the bat got you writing now" kon questions, looking at the bird who seems enraptured by the wonders of his laptop.

But Rob looks up blinks owlishly and states 'logarithmics'

'Is that a rouges name or some kinda gang, who the hell is logarithmics?' Kon replies mildly baffled cause whom the fuck is calling themselves logarithmics

Rob continues to state at kon, doing that whole analysis stare that makes kon question if he's the only one on the team with x ray vision. "It's 11th grade math" the bird finally states

Kon stares blankly at the Robin, because what?

"I'm doing my math homework... it's logarithmics" The bird clarifies

And that how Robin and Super boy end up smashed together in a chair debating over logarithmic, and maybe just maybe that's when Robin starts to realize that (even more maybes) maybe he likes to hear Kon talk and maybe logarithmics will not ever seem necessary, but hey at least they make him grin a bit

[4only1]

Hello, hi. I read your fantastic Gitae fic and was wondering if you could do one where him and reader are business partners and are like considered a deadly duo because they work so well together and because the basically have the same personality but reader is much more sane and mostly tries to keep Gitae's bloodshed clean and not too messy but she overworks herself and is constantly on alert and Giate want to assure that they can both trust each other but reader was betrayed alot because people considered her weak and useless. 💋 thank you for listening to my Ted talk lovieeee

What you know

Gitae Kim X Reader Word Count: 767 Masterlist

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When people heard the names (Y/N) (L/N) and Gitae Kim, they knew there would be trouble. Gitae, a man of strange habits and pure strength, the patricide. (Y/N), a genius who kept the whole drug cartel together, heck, kept Gitae together. Without you, he would be a dysfunctional wreck, not keeping his bloodsheding tendencies together.

You had been waiting in the car since Gitae went to deal with Kwak Jichang, the king- well, soon to be former king of Seoul. As you shuffle papers around in your hand, casually glancing at your phone every now and then, waves of exhaustion hit you. You both had arrived in Korea a few days ago, but when did you last sleep? Someone had to keep the drug cartel running at all hours, and while Gitae was meeting with James Lee and relaxing, it was up to you to do that work. Paperwork really wasn’t Gitae’s thing anyway. Numbers too.

As you kept fighting the feeling of sleep, the car door opened. Gitae entered the car soon after, talking on the phone, most likely to James Lee. Frustration bubbled within you as you noted Gitae's new addition to his look. He didn’t have that much blood on him when he left.

“Seriously”

Is all you manage to get out once Gitae hangs up the phone. Not only did he do the exact opposite of what he told you he was going to do, but he also came back soaked in blood. 

“I thought we talked about being less swing happy with the axe!”

“Not my fault. That Jichang guy was alright, but the police came so I had to deal with them.”

Gitae casually said, blowing out a puff of smoke with his sentence. You click your tongue at his response, before looking back at the papers. A yawn you tried so hard to keep back escapes your lips, drawing Gitae’s attention to you.

“And you have the nerve to scold me in that state. I thought we talked about you not overworking yourself.”

Gitae says, a bit mockingly, turning your own phrasing against you. You look at him, annoyance in your tired eyes. No matter how many times he told you to rest, you just couldn’t. You needed to prove your worth, no matter what personal cost came from it. You weren’t a fighter like Gitae, even the lower members of the gang have you beat in strength. You were the brains, you had to be, you couldn’t let simple exhaustion prevent you from doing the one thing that defined your worth. If things were running smoothly, you weren’t useless. 

You couldn't let a small mistake even become a thought. You feared that if something did happen, big or small, you would be cast aside, replaced with someone else. You couldn't let it happen, not again, you couldn't allow yourself to be thrown away again.

Lost in thought, you don't notice that Gitae has grabbed the papers until you feel them leaving your hand. You turn to him, ready to yell, when his gaze stops you. He didn't have a caring bone in his body, so why did he look at you with those soft eyes? Why did he make it so hard for you to not trust him. In all the time you've known him, he hasn't so much as yelled at you, just playful banter. Even that was enough to put you on edge. Why was he so kind to you but harsh to everybody else?

“Go to sleep.” Is all he says. 

“You can't be serious. I have to finish that work by tonight or-” He quickly cuts you off in a stern tone. But the gentleness is still there.

“Sleep. I refuse to spend another second being scolded by your sleep deprived ass. What's the saying, happy wife, happy life? You’re basically my wife with how you nag me all the time. I prefer if your grouchy ass was rested, so I don't have to deal with your complaints.”

Gitae calmly says before again reaching over and forcing you to lay down across the backseat, your head resting on his leg. You fought to keep your eyes open, but the comfort of Gitae's presence kept you relaxed. You wanted to argue back, but it didn't take long for sleep to consume you.

His large hand rested on the side of your head, stroking your hair. Cigarette smoke filled the air, but that didn't bother you much. You felt comfortable, safe, trusting. Maybe just this time, you can trust someone a little bit more.

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Always love writing a Gitae request. I need to see more of this man in the story please. Next request comes out next week, spoilers, it's another Shingen request (what do y'all see in that man?)

I didn't properly proof read this one so I hope it sounds fine.