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sketchfanda · 10 months ago

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A Little Moxxie Love:Hail to the Queen (of OPAR!!)

Static and pixels flash across a screen as a camera became active, showing a sort of studio made to seem like the VIP area of some high class lounge mixed with a talk show set ala Conan O' Brien or Jay Leono. That is if said lounge had decor showing that its owner had a partial fondness for pop and gothpunk culture of course as the host revealed himself to be none other than the author of this certain set of stories, spinning the office chair he parked in around to face the non existent crowd with all the sort of showmanship and flair any host would. Adjusting the tie he was wearing as claps akin to what you'd hear in a sitcom played out with the camera showing he wasn't alone as seated in a couch beside the desk was none other than our fave little gentleman imp hitman Moxxie in his cute little possum boi glory. To say he was a tad confused and concerned was an understatement as something told him things were about to get weirder than Blitzo that one time he was high off a cocaine rush and DON'T ASK!!

??:"Whassup viewers or should I say readers, it's Sketchfan coming to you live from an undisclosed location which for security purposes will remain anonymous!! that's right folks, the writer of whose work you've been enjoying is always aiming to bring you variety not just in the line up of beauts and bombshells he puts his 3 favourite guys in the world with, but such is the spice of life that I just have to try all the different ways to approach ideas!!*The flaming skullheaded madcap author spoke enthusiasm that the imp at least found more tolerable at least compared to his boss. But really could anyone be easier to compare to Blitzo?*"Now in this case I was particularly wanting to try out this concept for a while based on Daitomodachi's Kakyoin: Waifu Connoisseur video series of which I'd highly recommend checking out on Youtube of course..." *That only made the his guest slightly concerned now. He couldn't even look it up since the security staff confiscated his phone for the duration of this pseud talkshow session so he just had to ask.*

Moxxie:"Mr. Sketch, sir pardon my query and all but what exactly are you talking about? Baring in mind up to this point that I've had to endure and put up with a lot of what you put me through. Not complaining mind you but the women you've arranged encounters for me with have been exhausting I mean makes me wonder what you'd even have mind for a solo chapter with Millie or Loona..uhm, hey girls..."*The sweet little possum couldn't help but give a wave to the audience section, the camera turning to where there the bleachers were shown to be occupied solely by what could only be called Moxxie's harem. Millie and Loona among quite the assorted, more than easy on the eyes audience of ladies that have been with the Imp. Including Verosika and Stella of course, a few them holding up signs declaring their affections for the imp, plush toys as well as wearing t-shirts with Millie's reading "Founder and president of the Moxxie fanclub. What can be said, he was a very loveable stud.*

Sketch:"Oh that's a good bit down the road little man, I can assure you.."*The author/host quipped as he checked a secret drawer containing a few select drafts, quickly closing it as he regained focus.*"But to answer the first part of your question, it's quite simple really, on this little show of mine, I arrange for a guest to come over and the two of you, to put it bluntly, fuck away."*The flaming skullheaded madman awaited Moxxie's brain to process this information. The clock ticking away in his head as he put two and two together. He took it about as well as can be expected of course.*

Moxxie:"Excuse me but WHAT?!! You mean to tell me you're bringing some woman in here just for us to give you a live show?!! What is your damage?!!"*the sweet imp boi spat with understandable indignity. Looking about ready to want to throttle the guy as his hands made strangling gestures. To which Sketch was non-chalant as he sipped from a mug before he gestured to stage right. The crowd anticipating who he had lined up.*

Sketch:"So without further ado, let's introduce our guest of honour for this round of getting a dose of vitamin Moxxie. And on that we cue the music!!"*The bizarre eccentric host pressed a button on his ipod docking station, playing atypical hype music you'd hear a house band play when a special guest came on. And oh was she a stunner, a veritable African Dream Queen, rocking a very stylish and stunning all white fashion ensemble that contrasted delightfully with her dark complexion and complimented her mane of flowing platinum blonde hair. The crowd hooting and hollering while Moxxie could only drop his jaw as a set of feline-like jade green eyes locked on him with a predatory and thirsty gaze. Her thick toned sexy body that put pin9-up girls and pornstars to shame moving with a grace akin to a jungle cat stalking its prey.*

Yes indeed it was the one and only underrated but unforgettable villainess of Disney's Tarzan animated series, La, the queen of opar. The dominatrix of leopard men and possible former Atlantean native parking herself on the couch right beside Moxxie, crossing her luscious legs in a sensual way that put Sharon Stone in Basic instinct to shame. The Moxxie fan club crowd, aka the harem looking on with anticipation as they awaited the moment when she would pounce and have that big Imp cock rock her world. All they had to do was wait patient as can be but certainly wasn't stopping the waterfalls forming between their legs.

Moxxie:*Looked at La with absolute scarousal while looking ath the Host Author with absolute livid contempt.*"Are you INSANE?! The yandere megamaniac jungle witch queen?!! How and why for that matter is she even here? Isn't this a tad meta for you? I mean was it that difficult to at least cook up an actual plot for her or something?" *The imp gestured at the Queen of Opar, who eyed him like a meal she was going to savour and relish. Missing the sensual lick and bite of her lips as she idly teased and touched the tip of his cute little tail. It helped he was so distracted calling out the mad man before him.*

Sketch:"Hey give me a break, I was stuck for ideas and this was a concept I wanted to try out for sometime. I'd had thought of saving the Waifu Conoisseur approach for my Krillin story but ya know inspiration struck. And why not La? I mean look at her!!"*He remarked as the camera focused on the immortal, immoral witch queen. Scott Pilgrim style fact boxes popping up as they pointed out and highlighted some of La's finest traits and quirks from the mental to of course the physical. Truly she was a work of art of the particular outfit she had on only highlighted the fact. What guy ir gal wouldn’t get horny for that?*

Moxxie:”In the immortal words of a certain emo, my answer is no, with a side of fuck you.”*The imo emphasised this statement by flipping the host author the bird. Gritting his teeth at the mad man’s continued non-chalant nature as he turned to face La.*”No offence but I really can’t be in your league right? Hell not eben the same ballpark or sport..”*Whatever Moxxie was looking to say next hit the brakes in his brain as La leaned in close to him. Lips inches from his as she trailed and caressed an immaculately nailed finger under his chin.*

La:”Darling I’m certainly not being picky and I’ve seen your track record. Besides which it’s only in recent times I’ve finally been getting some attention in fics and art and even that duo and their New Peta project is taking its sweet time getting to my scenes. So let me be frank, cut the bullshit, get naked, take that bitchbreaker known as your cock and fuck, me, hard.” *The sexy British sounding accent of the immortal witch queen spoke, no nonsense as she sensually licked her lips at the levels of scarousal the imp began showing. Biting her lower lip sensually as she put her hand on the back of his head and pushed his face to play it between the valley of her cleavage.*”Now let me put it this way, I like you and I want you. Now we can do this the easy way or we can do it the hard way. The choice is yours….” *As she spoke an all too familiar threat for some, Sketch snuck out, hitting play to hit some porn style music playing through the speakers. Leaving Moxxie to his sexy doom as there was no way the imp could say no.*

Indeed Moxxie knew there was no way out of this except to make the beast with two backs with the Queen of Opar as he decided to accept his fate. Getting out of LA’s reach as his harem slash fan club stayed quiet to let the mood set itself as the Imp began to strip. La shuddering with a tingle of ecstasy at the sight of that now exposed length and girth of his as she grasped it in her hand and began vigorously stroking away. The usually domineering megalomaniac looking as undignified as a porn star as she leaned in to begin planting licks and kisses on the shaft with shameless lust, making the imp shudder.

Now La wasn’t a virgin by any means or stretch of the imagination but any men she had been with prior to Moxxie were certainly being out to shame by the imp just from the scent snd taste of his cock alone. Any sense of dignity cast aside by her primal desire as she was soon commencing with fellatio, sucking and blowing on that fuck-rod. Eyes glowing with lust as she felt his quite gifted hips pump and thrust with a hidden urge to want to just fuck her face and make her mouth an oral pussy for his own pleasure. Her primal urges and instincts coming to see this sweet little imp as an absolute alpha male she simply had to have pin her down and destroy her until it was more than assured she’d be having his babies.

But of course once his libido took the helm and ensured his sense of inhibition and hesitation along with his shame were all set aside out of the way, as he soon had La stripped of that lovely ensemble. The naked jungle queen begininng to work up a nice sheen of perspiration as she was rolling her head back, her platinum blonde mane flowing as deep throated moans escaped her luscious pouty lips and with good reason of course. As Moxxie was between her legs, the equally nude crimson possum eating her out and ooh she found he had quite the skilled tongue, proving he was more than meeting, hell he was exceeding expectations. His snow white shock of hair and his zebra striped horns being caressed by one of her well manicured hands as she ensured he was getting good and deep making out with her sloppy mound as things could only escalate from there.

Escalate they certainly did as the heavy petting and foreplay soon lead to the Imp and African Dream rutting like animals in such way that the noise coming from them would ensure that no, the lion wouldn't be sleeping tonight. La currently riding Moxxie cowgirl style, the difference in height and body size a splendid contrast as her luscious bubbly chocolate booty jiggled and clapped with every impact of her bouncing on his shaft. His cute little skilled hands massaging her splendid hips as she hugged and held his sweet little head between her pillowy soft tits. The Queen of Opar rlishing how deep his length and girth reached, the swelling bulge of her washboard toned abs a sight to behold.

But oh how it only got better for her when the charming little imp got a little mora assertive and abrasive, as if the more primal instincts he had as a man began to take more of a hold on him. The Queen of Opar finding herself on her back as the sweet potato of an imp fucked her like a caveman in spread eagle before proceeding right into a mating press. Cock jackhammering away into the ever greedy and welcoming intimate embrace of her pussy, those heavy balls smacking her ass as their tongues danced in a heated kiss. Their grunts and moans echoing through the studio as its walls and ceiling filled with the music and rhythm of the game of adult Twister.

Moxxie's fanclub slash harem enjoying every single position shift as they played with themselves at seeing their man prove himself to be an absolute sexual unit. La's eyes glowing with neon pink hearts of absolute bliss as Moxxie fucked her doggy style, mounting atop her back, arms hugged around her waist as he jackhammered away into her overflowing pussy. The floor stained with puddles of their juices as the mismatched pair showed no signs of stopping. And you can dam well guarantee it was going to breakout into an orgy, that was for damn sure.

Sketch of course was hidden away in a secret Rec room, giving them all the time and privacy they needed as he played some Switch, taking a sip of some Pepsi max from a sixpack he had nearby. Product placement, got to love it. As the flaming skull headed author avatar and host realised he had company and looked towards the camera. Shooting a wink and finger guns at the unseen reader audience.

Sketch:"Hey folks hope you've enjoyed that as well as enjoying this story. Yeah you can tell this is gonna be a while so best we leave them to it of course. Rest assured the Waifu Conoisseur Show isn't going to be a one time deal here, handy to change up the format and formula every once a while, know what I mean? Anyways, later maniacs..." *With that, the camera faded out. Static flickering even as the audio could still pick up Moxxie and La's little erotic acquantanceship goin on with no signs of stopping. Sweet dreams for those visuals eh? 'Til next time, same Helluva time, same Helluva channel.*

(Bonus: Rough example of the author's designated avatar. Handosme fellow isn't he?)

#sketchfan #sketchfanda #sketchfan85 #queen la #tarzan queen la #disney tarzan #tarzan #helluva boss #moxxie #moxxie helluva boss #helluva moxxie #millie #millie helluva boss #helluva millie #moxxie smut

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bu1410 · 7 months ago

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Good afternoon TUMBLR - April 24th - 2024

''Mr. Plant has owed me a shoe since July 5, 1971."

Atyrau Kazakhstan – Dec 2004 – Oct 2010 - Kashagan Development Project

Part 3

MAIN WORKS The Early Works were coming to an end, and the ''MAIN WORKS'' were about to start, i.e. the works for the construction of the actual plant where the crude oil coming from the wells located in the Caspian Sea would be ''stabilized'' to then be sent through a specially built pipeline (it had to connect to the transport system already existing between Kazakhstan and Russia). Or transported with tanks mounted on railway wagons (a 20km link road was being built by a local company which will connect the plant to the Kazakhstan railway network). An old acquaintance arrived as Client Site Manager, Mr. Daniele Nazzani. Former SAIPEM Manager, I met him during the selection interview for the Abu Dhabi Taweelah Water project. That day I was sitting in those tiny rooms in the fifth office building of San Donato, when this large figure more than 2 meters high entered (he had to fold his head sideways to avoid hitting the door). He had made a good impression on me, even though I had sensed that he was potentially ''dangerous''. And once he had settled in Atyrau I had confirmation of this quite quickly. Nazzani immediately began a ''cleaning work'' all those elements that he considered ''superfluous'' to the Kashagan project. Without too much preamble, he had them called to the office and without ever even looking at them in the face, he told them that ''you time here has 'expired''. With these premises, we were called to a meeting to clarify certain results of the cracking tests of the concrete we were using for the foundations of the plant's Main Pipe rack. Participants, in addition to myself, Nazzani, the AGIP Deputy Construction Manager (a Canadian named Dick Parker), the Director of our Company Giorgio Borchia and the AGIP Quality Manager. There was a brief introduction of the topic by the AGIP QA/QC Manager and then Borchia took the floor to explain our reasons, but after he had pronounced the first words suddenly Nazzani stood up and from the top of his 2.00 meters I start shouting ''ENOUGH…ENOUGH…IT'S ENOUGH……'' and lifting the table like a twig he overturn it, throwing all the papers and drawings on the ground, leaving the meeting room and us astonished and speechless, to wonder with our eyes what had happened!!! At that moment I was consulting some papers in front of me, thought that the guy was hit with some sort of heart or epileptic attack…. We were all extremely embarrassed. Mr. Parker – an elderly gentleman – apologized on behalf of AGIP and ended the meeting. While going back to the city, Mr. Borchia, we commented on what had happened, looking for a plausible explanation for Nazzani's behaviour. Even once we arrived at our offices, we continued to discuss the Site Manager's drama with Mr. Nurlan, the President of our Company . In the end, after much discussion, the only ''plausible'' explanation was that, mindful of the old wrinkles of the Abu Dhabi Taweela Water project (where Borchia held the role of Deputy General Director of S.A.C. Main Contractor of SAIPEM) Giorgio had had several disputes with Nazzani, Deputy Director of the project at the time. In conclusion, the origin of the incident could be understood, but not Nazzan's behavior, which was absolutely unacceptable. He had allowed himself, with his action, to gratuitously insult not only Borchia, but also what our Director represented at that moment, namely a Kazakh-Italian Company that was regularly appointed as AGIP's Contractor on the Kashagan project.

Two days after Nazzani's absurd scene, an official letter arrived from AGIP in which we were ordered to return the Borchia's access badge to the site, and an instruction from now on not to send letters and correspondence with his signature. An act to which I tried to make our company react with actions that could have led to Nazzani's removal. Unfortunately we were not influential enough to achieve this result, and therefore almost throughout the entire course of the Kashagan project, we had to suffer the harassment of this individual. I say almost because at the end of 2008 it was us, through good relations with the local KGB, who saved Nazzani from police arrest.. As we warned them in time, Nazzani and the Procurement Manager (another Italian guy) managed to board the Atyrau – Amsterdam flight at 7.00 am, thus escaping arrest. The charge was tax fraud for non-payment of taxes to the Kazakh government, and also illegal importation of helicopters. Two very serious crimes, whose arrest warrant was extended to all CIS (Commonwealth of Independent States) countries, thus making many of the former Soviet Union countries off limits for the two wanted men.

RETURN TO KAZAKHSTAN ON JANUARY 2006 The AGIP charter flight continued to be the fastest way to get to and from Kazahstan. I had the return flight booked from Malpensa and on January 7th I showed up regularly for boarding. Luckily my name was on the list and I boarded the flight. I noticed that the plane had changed, I asked a guy sitting beside me why:

This is a plane from the Polish company LOT specially rented because it is suitable for landing on snowy runways. The landing gear is much lower and therefore the plane can land even if it has recently snowed on the airport and the runway is not clear.

Ahh…ok…. Reassured about the possible snow landing at Atyrau airport, we took off on time. The flight was at night, and when we reached the Caucasus, the Commander warned on the loudspeaker that a strong snowfall had hit the entire Atyrau region, so the airport had been declared closed.

But why - I said to the AGIP guy sitting next to me - didn't you rent this plane because it would have to land in all conditions?

Yes but……evidently the snowfall is too heavy….

A few minutes later the Commander announced that we would land at Nalchik airport, and then we would go to sleep in Mineralnye Vody, a town in Southern Russia. The Odyssey was just beginning. From Mineralnye Vody the next day a bus took us to Stavropol, where we boarded a train to Astrakhan, about 560 km away. The train was comfortable, with 3-seater sleeping compartments – the journey lasted 11 hours and when we arrived in Astrakhan it was night. At Astrakhan station another train was waiting for us, to travel the 360 km that separated us from our final destination. It was late morning when we arrived exhausted at Atyrau central station. Mr. Talgat was waiting for me on the platform, I offered the AGIP guy a lift home, seeing as his colleagues hadn't bothered to come to pick him up. He went down to the River Palace hotel residence and while he thanked me from the rolled down window I said to him:

It's really true that when you from AGIP are involved, Murphy's first law almost always comes true. And I left without waiting for his reply.

POLICE The Kazakh police is known locally as ''Gaik'.' Given the low wages, the gaik' spends his day trying to make ends meet. The most coveted positions are in the evening patrols, especially those on Saturday evenings and before the several national holidays. There are national holidays for every taste: the President's birthday - the declaration of Independence - the Christian Christmas - the New Year - the Orthodox Christmas - the ''old New Year'' (during the Soviet period the new year was the 9th January) Nowriz (21 March the beginning of spring when the Kazakh nomads released their sheep into the steppe) Muhammad's birthday - Kurban Ait (Muslim Eid el Fitr) and many others that I can't remember now. On the evening of the eve of these holidays, where in theory there are more possible drunk drivers (but in Kazakhstan everyone also drinks throughout the week) the police deploys all its forces, especially near clubs and restaurants. Sometimes the managers of restaurants or clubs are equipped with radios by the police themselves, to signal the exit of customers who have been drinking. Naturally, whoever reports the chicken to be plucked is entitled to a percentage of the stolen goods. Of course I had my troubles with gaiks too. One of their favorite locations was before and after the bridge that connects Europe to Asia, crossing the Ural River. It is an mandatory passage from one part of the city to the other, and there is no escape from there. It was a Saturday and they stopped me, it was around midnight, while I was driving the company's black Prado. Naturally the policeman immediately shines the flashlight in my face and says the inevitable:

You drank!

No Sir…. I only drank Coca Cola….

No.. you drank alcohol, I can see it in your eyes!

No Sir…. I don't drink alcohol…I can't drink, I had a bad surgery recently and I can't drink, as per doctor's orders.

I also had surgery and now I drink twice as much as before! And in doing so he lifts his jacket and shows me a belly covered in horrible scars… The pantomime went on for a good half hour, then realizing that I had no intention of slipping any banknotes into his car, he announced to me:

Shall we go to the clinic??!! This means at least wasting a couple of hours of sleep.

Let's go to the clinic, I said.

Are you sure you want to go to the clinic? If you test positive then I will have to arrest you, and the judge will not be there until Monday…

The sooner we go, the sooner we finish this story – I conclude So we left for the clinic, where once we arrive a sleepy lady doctor takes my blood to proceed with the alcohol test. While the doctor does the test, the policeman was walking nervously and every now and then he was coming closer, and pointing his finger at me exclaims:

You drank! I look at him with a half smile. Then suddenly I see the figure of the doctor reflected in the glass waving a finger in a sign of ''no'' in the direction of the policeman. Whereupon I approach the policeman with my hand outstretched, to claim the key to my Prado. He slams me on the table with one final statement:

You tested negative….BUT YOU DRINK!! I left, throwing him a ''Spakoine noche brigadier''.(Good night brigadier).

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thecunnydiaries · 2 years ago

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13th Wednesday

Fore part of the Day fine. Made the Land in the Morning Watch: commenced beating up Christmas harbour at 9 AM, and Anchored after tacking 22 times in gallant Stile with a Stiff breeze. The passage is difficult & dangerous with the wind dead on end: there is a Stupendous Iron bound Rock on the Larboard hand nearly perpendicular. I Should say fifteen hundred feet high and the top appears to be a roost for birds as the Soil from them has besmeared the Sea face of it for a considerable way down. There is a great many runs of water down the rocks. The Erebus was lying in the mouth of the harbour, She having anchored Yesterday. At the entrance of the harbour there is a very Romantic looking Rock partialy detached from the main Land with a very natural looking Arch through it. It is on the Larboard hand, on the Starboard there is a very bold Cape about Six hundred feet high. Got boats out in the afternoon: Sent one on Shore, the crew brought off fourteen Penguins of the Jack Ass Specie, very Majestic looking fellows, Stood bolt upright like a Soldier: we Killed, Cooked and eat them and a very good Supper They made considering it was quick work, we were no ways particular. There appears to be a Sort of wild Cabbage growing which is good the say when Cooked.

HMS Terror entering Christmas Harbour, by J. Dayman, Mate in HMS Erebus

Campbell's notes:

Christmas Harbour, now Port Christmas, with its entrance in Latitude 48°41'S, Longitude 69°03'E, lies at the head of Baie de l'Oiseau at the northern end of Îles

Kerguélen, named by Captain Cook, since they entered the harbour on 25 December 1776. The bay was visited by M. de Rochegude, one of the officers of the Oiseau, on Kerguélen’s second voyage in January 1774. Beaglehole, The Journals..Resolution and Discovery, I, pp. 29–32.

Arch, now known as Pointe de l’Arche, although the arch has fallen in.

Wild cabbage, Hooker, The Botany I, pp. 238–41. Pringlea antiscorbutica. Ibid. p. 239. ‘This is perhaps the most interesting plant procured during the whole voyage performed in the Antarctic Seas, growing as it does upon an island the remotest from a continent, and yielding, besides this esculent, only seventeen other flowering plants.’ Ibid. p. 240. ‘The illustrious Cook first discovered and drew attention to the “Kerguelen’s Land Cabbage” during his first voyage, when accompanied by Mr. Anderson [William Anderson, 1750–78, Assistant surgeon and naturalist in Resolution, on Cook’s second voyage and surgeon and naturalist on his third voyage]. The latter gentleman drew up an account of some of the more remarkable plants which he collected there and in other islands, which are preserved in the Banksian Library; the present he designated as Pringlea in honour of Sir John Pringle [1707–82, Physician in ordinary to the King and President of the Royal Society], who wrote a work upon scurvy [A discourse upon some late improvements of the means for preserving the health of Mariners delivered at the anniversary meeting of the Royal Society, Nov. 1776. A copy of which was published in Cook A Voyage towards the South Pole.] The latter circumstance has induced me, at Mr Brown's suggestion, to assign the trivial name of antiscorbutica. The Pringlea is exceedingly abundant over all parts of the island … Its long rhizomata, often 3 or 4 feet long, lie along the ground; they are sometimes 2 inches in diameter, full of spongy and fibrous substance intermixed, of a half woody texture and with flavour of horse-radish, and bear at the extremity heads of leaves, sometime 18 inches across, so like those of the common cabbage that if growing in a garden with their namesakes in England they would not excite any particular attention; the outer leaves are coarse, loosely placed and spreading, the inner form a dense white heart, that tastes like mustard and cress, but is much coarser. … daily use was made of this vegetable, either cooked by itself or boiled with the ships' beef, pork, or pee-soup.’

#1840 #may 1840 #james dalton hooker #dayman

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saintmeghanmarkle · 1 year ago

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Lady C Tea YouTube 10/3/23 (a few nuggets paraphrased by me) by u/daisybeach23

Lady C Tea YouTube 10/3/23 (a few nuggets paraphrased by me) Greetings from Castle Goring!Lady C, what are your thoughts on Meghan trying to fill Diane Feinstein’s senate seat? What do you make of the Daily Mail story that Meghan was actually a contender? LOL…I did warn you all some time ago that Meghan did not stand a chance and Gavin Newsom had other fish to fry. Someone said today that Meghan was not black enough. Gavin Newsom told the news many months ago, he intended to appoint someone Black to the Senate Seat. The lady that was appointed is a Black Lesbian. She ticks all the boxes. And as we all know, Meghan complained that nobody ever called her Black until she married Harry. And, there were already better candidates in place such as Adam Schiff and Katie Porter. There was no way Meghan was ever going to get it. Maybe the person who told me Meghan wasn’t Black enough is on to something. I was told something very interesting. I was told Michelle Obama may run for President. She may come in and save the day from Sleepy Joe and Kamala Harris. She is a very credible prospect. Michelle is currently relaxing on Steven Spielberg’s yacht. Meghan, will you condemn Michelle for the carbon footprint? I think Meghan will settle for the fact that her name was mentioned at all. Remember, if Meghan can’t have power, she will settle for money.Lady C, I heard Netflix was toying with the idea of a series featuring Meghan giving a tour of the White House and discussing former first ladies. This will be all about female empowerment and Meghan will put a woke spin on it. Do you think the White House would dare to give Meghan access while her relationship with the Royal Family is so frosty? Did you notice the Clooney’s had a party the other day and neither Meghan nor Harry were there? Did you notice the Obama’s had a party and Meghan wasn't there? Do you actually think President and Mrs. Biden will allow Meghan into the White House while she is not in good standing with the Royal Family? Lady C, what do you think about Patrick Adams posting retro pics on Instagram of Meghan while she was on suits, then Meghan getting furious and demanding he take them down? I think it’s terrible she did this when he is trying to get new fans from the popularity of Suits on Netflix. I do not believe the story that he removed the pics due to the SAG strike. Well I heard that the mail online reported that someone on Meghan’s team denied she demanded the pics be deleted. And weren’t we told that Meghan and Harry said they would never communicate with The Mail Group AT ALL! And that included not confirming or denying anything. Yet they deny this.Lady C, if Meghan were to run for office would she have to renounce her titles? Would Harry? Meghan doesn’t actually hold a royal title to renounce. She has a courtesy title via her marriage. This allows her to dabble as she pleases. Harry would have to renounce his royal titles if he were to become an American Citizen and run for office. I think we should all stop thinking Harry would be a First Gentleman as we have established Meghan has no chance of being elected President.Lady C, what would happen if a monarch was openly gay? Well unless the laws change, they would still have to marry the opposite sex and have a biological child. If they marry same sex, they can’t bear children according to current succession laws. Maybe the laws will change in the future. The British Monarchy hasn’t faced this issue yet.Lady C spoke more about UK censorship, politicians who use climate change as a weapon (to the detriment of the citizens), she made a comment that Meghan is always “thwarted,” and confirmed to a viewer who thought she saw Duchess Sophie in person that Duchess Sophie is a very good looking lady.Toodles Sinners! post link: https://ift.tt/FQaug9S author: daisybeach23 submitted: October 03, 2023 at 10:49PM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit

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aehyei · 3 years ago

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Hi soulmate! Love you sososososo much (btw sorry for making you dropping your phone TT) I have a request for you: “ please don’t scare me like that again. i can take a lot of things, but not losing you. / ” come here. i’m taking care of you tonight. and you’re gonna let me. ” (3) sender shows up at receiver’s house drunk after they’ve broken up. Pairing: ceo!jaehyun x korea's president!female reader (bc why not) Thank you!! <33

heyyyy riri 🥺🥰🥰 it’s fine! my phone’s still alive and i am too but like,, jaemin’s,, way,, too,, hot,, for,, me,, to,, handle,, :,)

[IT’S JUST US NOW]

pairing: ex-boyfriend! ceo!jaehyun x korea’s female president!reader, genre: angst, fluff, exes to lovers!au, !heartfelt, tw: driving under influence, cuss words, drinking, mentions of a toxic family, prompts used: “please don’t scare me like that again. i can take a lot of things, but not losing you.” + “come here. i’m taking care of you tonight. and you’re gonna let me.” + (3)

REMINDER: PROMPT GAME IS CLOSED.

And so you’re the president.

What a job. Everyone looks up to you, and the whole country’s state is on your hands. One simple little mistake and everything you tried to built falls down like sand. And too add to that? You’re long time boyfriend decides to break up with you with the reason of “We don’t belong together, we travel different paths, roads that will never meet.”

Ouch.

In the first place, how did you become the president? Honestly, you did not know either. Both your parents are potential politicians, always doing everything to stay in power— even if it means making their daughter run for a position in the government just so they could assure that they are the most powerful to live in South Korea.

And just like the story ends, you find yourself at the top, being controlled by your parents with every move you try to make to help the country.

But aside from how obviously unfair fate is, at least it gave you a chance to meet Jung Jaehyun— a young, rich, and famous CEO of a really known company. Your parents adored him more then they did with you, and you hated how they loved him just because of his money.

“Date him, Y/n. He’s a great man,” you would remember your mother tell you while drinking green tea. You didn’t want too at first, thinking it was entirely cruel for her to control your love life now. “Mother, is me being the president not enough for you?”, You would ask, looking at her with an uneasy expression.

“Nonsense silly girl. If you date Mr. Jung, your status would be better and everyone would love you more.” Her voice was stern and scary, making you give in to her wishes.

Love you more, huh, if you date Jaehyun, would everything finally be enough for them? Would your father finally smile at you and tell you how proud he is? Would your mother finally call you her daughter instead of some silly girl?

So date Jaehyun you did.

The blind date was really awkward at first— aside from the cameras and paparazzi around the restaurant, or how Jaehyun literally looks like a Greek god that night— you felt the butterflies in your stomach swirling around like crazy.

He...wasn’t that bad at all. In fact, he was a pure gentleman and always respected your personal space, never crossing any line. Maybe that was one of the reasons why you went home smiling so widely that night.

Unfortunately, your mother was right. When the public saw your dating status with the famous young CEO, they did adore you much more then you expected. Praising you in every way.

A living fairytale, that’s where you thought you are. A princess caged in a tower, with an evil dragon and witch guarding the entrance, and a handsome brave prince saving you.

Except the princess was you, the evil dragon your father, the witch your mother, and Jaehyun as your prince.

But just like every fairytale, the story ends. Suddenly, people were sick of watching you and Jaehyun and wanted something else. Rallies were often happening, going against the thought of a young immature girl to run a whole country.

It was the first time you saw your parents really worried— but you would be a fool if you think they were worried for you. It was mere obvious by their actions that they were more worried getting kicked out of power then their daughter’s mental and physical state.

Then Jaehyun was taken away from you. He was banned from going anymore near you, and it wasn’t like he could. Your father would cut all ties you have with your boyfriend, saying you need to study on how to satisfy the people, not yourself. Your mother would constantly let you be followed around by a camera just to show everyone how ‘mature’ you actually are.

Eventually, their plan did work and everything was back to normal again. After some begging and pitiful tears, they finally allowed you to meet Jaehyun just for this once. This time, no more cameras, no more paparazzi, just you and Jaehyun alone.

“I’m sorry for everything and I—”

“We...we should break up.”

“W-What do you mean? Jaehyun, this is—”

“We don’t belong together, we travel different paths, roads that will never meet.”

So it turns out, he wasn’t your prince, and you weren’t a princess. You’re just a silly girl following whatever the witch and the dragon says. It all came crashing unto you as you stare at your now ex-boyfriend with a blank expression, slowly nodding and leaving before he sees the tears trickling down your eyes continuously.

You weren’t in the mood now in dealing with your mother’s shrieks and your father’s sermons. You weren’t in the mood in pretending to be someone you don’t know in front of the cameras. You weren’t in the mood in dealing with the whole country and all that is on it’s land. For this once, you want silence. You want to look out your window and stare up the moon.

Maybe you took a couple of sips of red wine, wishing when you wake up this was all just a nightmare. But there was one thing for sure— you weren’t that drunk to imagine a Jung Jaehyun standing just beside his expensive car with a can of beer in his hand, staring up at you with red puffy eyes.

...or are you?

You looked at the wine your holding, looking at it’s bottle to see it’s ingredients with confused and squinted eyes, “How strong is the alcohol rate...?”.

“Can I climb up?” Jaehyun croaks out suddenly, startling you. “H-Have...have you gone entirely mad?” You stammered, creasing your brows together. He smiled and chuckled, looking down by his feet before looking back up at you, his dimples showing, “If I truly become mad, would you take care of me?”.

“I would,” you whisper, opening your window wider for him, “Come here. I’m taking care of you tonight.”

Jaehyun’s smile grew wider, but he didn’t budge yet, looking hesitant. “What if everyone doesn’t want us together? What if...I don’t want you to take care of me?”.

You shook your head, far to drunk to care anymore, “No. I’m going to take care of you and you’re gonna let me.”

Convinced and also wasted at the same time, Jaehyun stumbles to climb up your window— stopping when you’re both now face to face. “Why are you here?” You mumble brokenly, the hurtful memories just from hours ago still vivid for you.

“There are two reasons,” he slurred, “the first one was I was looking for home, and the next thing I knew is that I’m in front of your house. And the second is I’m really, really, really drunk and I love you.”

You visibly froze. Jaehyun raised his right hand and gently caressed your cheek, smiling sadly, “I love you.”

He loves you.

“C-Careful, you might fall,” you stuttered, grabbing on his arm. He grunts and enters your room, taking the wrong step and accidentally falling on top of you. A loud thud echoed around your dark room, and for a minute, you worried if any paparazzi are watching. Jaehyun must’ve noticed and softened a bit, “It’s just the two of us. Just you and me. Close your eyes if you want too, but I’ll just be here.”

You did close your eyes, feeling Jaehyun move away to lay beside you on the flooring and guided for you to lay in his chest instead. He reeks of alcohol and so did you, but no one cared right now.

“I could handle my parent’s evil schemes, people going against me. I’m willing to give everything up, but not you,” you whisper, hands clutching the fabric of his shirt, “Please don’t scare me like that again. I can take a lot of things, but not losing you.”

Jaehyun held you tighter, burying his nose on your hair and inhaled your scent that he loved so much, “I’m not going anywhere.”

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teawaffles · 4 years ago

Text

Forbidden Games: Chapter 3

From the end of the 18th century, gentlemen’s clubs had begun to proliferate rapidly in Britain. These were members-only social circles established by men of the gentry class [1] who shared common goals such as hobbies or research. At its peak, the area of London’s East End known as Clubland [2] was home to around 400 such establishments.

Normally, clubs have neither a doorplate nor signage. There was a rumour that one time, when a policeman became suspicious and entered a club, he found an archbishop, the president of a bank, and the prime minister all gathered there. The building that William and Sherlock had arrived at was no different, with a lone man standing at the entrance, and not a single item displayed that indicated what lay within.

Upon descending from the carriage, Sherlock gazed intently at the building, and spoke to William beside him.

“It’s a pretty big building, but this looks like the right address.”

“Indeed, the proof is in the fact that people are going in and out.”

Right at the corner of William’s sight was the figure of a gentleman who looked like he wanted to enter. He gave a slight bow to the doorman, then opened the door and went in.

Sherlock observed the sequence of events.

“They don’t seem too concerned about their surroundings when they enter.”

“True. Perhaps the club itself is not illegal in nature.”

“In other words, there may be people doing something illegal in there.”

The two men exchanged deductions as they drew nearer to the club. As expected, the apparent receptionist spoke up.

“Excuse me. Do you have business here…… Ah? You would be Durham University’s……”

As a nobleman and a young professor of mathematics, it looked like William was fairly well known around these parts.

William shrugged off his coat, doffed his top hat, and greeted the surprised man with a gentle smile.

“Good afternoon, I am William James Moriarty. I heard that this is a club where one may play certain games.”

At that, the man visibly relaxed and responded in a polite manner.

“Indeed it is you, Mr Moriarty, welcome. As you mentioned, this is a place where gentlemen with time to spare may gather, even when it is the middle of the day.”

William smiled at the man’s self-deprecating manner, and made a respectful enquiry.

“My companion and I have heard rumours about this place. However, could it be possible that we would be denied entry without an introduction from an existing member?”

“Not at all, there is no such rule. There is a token receptionist like myself for some reason, but in essence all newcomers are gladly welcome.”

“Including me?” Sherlock cut in, and the man nodded.

“That’s right, we have no qualms about that. I hope you don’t mind me asking your name?”

“I’m Sherlock Holmes.”

Upon hearing that name, the man blinked.

“Could it be, that Sherlock Holmes? I’m astonished that a man like you would also come to such a place……”

Perhaps the mathematics professor and famous detective made for an unusual duo. More surprised than one would expect, a wry smile rose to his face as Sherlock continued.

“Right. I just have a little something to investigate here.”

“An investigation, I see……”

In contrast to his manner with William, the man seemed shaken by the appearance of a detective. William calmly pounced on his suspicious behaviour.

“Could something be the matter?”

“Um, that’s, uh”

The man glanced toward the door as he tried to evade the question. But eventually he seemed to give up, and revealed the situation to them in a hushed voice.

“In a manner of speaking, this is indeed a place where one can enjoy a variety of ‘games’, however…… to liven up the playing field, money does change hands as well.”

“I see.”

From the man’s faltering voice, William could tell what was on his mind. Gentlemen who shed appearances and amused themselves with gambling, contrary to social expectations of dignity — this was not something one would wish to make public.

On top of that, a place where gambling has become the norm could easily become a hotbed of crime. It was likely that the doorman was stationed here to ascertain if new participants were connected with the police or other related parties, hence avoiding any unwanted attention. With Sherlock being a detective, this would also be the reason why he was shaken by Sherlock’s visit.

However, the two of them had ascertained that exchanges of money were taking place here. The question now was to what degree.

“Could it be, that the bets placed here are large enough to draw the attention of the Yard?”

The man waved the question away. “Nothing of the sort. They are really just small sums. One could see them as an entertainment fee.”

“An entertainment fee, I see……”

Sherlock murmured strangely, and watched the man’s movements with nonchalance. By layperson standards, even if it was just for fun, there was likely to be a good amount of money involved where nobles were concerned. But the man’s demeanour didn’t suggest that he was involved in anything illegal.

“Well, you won’t need to worry about that. I’m pursuing a different case here, and besides, I can agree that it’s more fun when money is involved.”

“That’s certainly reassuring to hear……”

For William, who had a close associate who was fond of gambling [3], this was a statement he couldn’t help but smile wryly at.

However, at present, his prediction that there was nothing wrong with the club itself was correct. Hence, they would need to see it in person.

“In any case, it should be fine for us to enter, yes?”

“Y-Yes, please be generous with your wagers……”

“So it’s okay then. Well, let’s get going.”

Sherlock immediately opened the door, with William following behind him.

The interior of the building was a large hall, with simple and subdued decor, and good-quality furnishings lined along the walls.

Wooden tables and chairs were spaced equally, and seated there were groups of gentlemen in formal attire, playing various card or poker games. Gold coins and stacks of bills could be seen scattered across the tables. Although the gentlemen maintained the dignity of their upper station, the occasional groans and cheers revealed their enthusiasm for the games.

The two men stood near the entrance, gazing at the players’ figures.

Looking at William, who was earnestly observing the situation to search for the missing young man, Sherlock made a somewhat envious expression.

“It sure looks fun. Since we came all the way here, I might join a game myself.”

“……Please don’t forget your original goal here,” William reminded him, looking troubled.

Just then, a stout man approached them, holding a glass filled with wine.

“Who might we have here? And on the young side too…… Ah, might you be the mathematics professor William Moriarty…… and your companion, the famous detective Sherlock Holmes?”

The man raised his voice, and a number of people in the vicinity turned to look at the duo. William kept a smile on his face, albeit a little awkwardly.

“Greetings….”

“Nice to meet you.”

Seeing how they had attracted attention so quickly, William spoke to Sherlock in a low voice.

“I would’ve honestly preferred to investigate more discreetly, but it sure is difficult when you’re known by name alone,” he scowled.

“Well, it’s the price of fame.”

After that somewhat sour exchange, William enquired after the man who spoke to them.

“It does seem that people who truly enjoy games are gathered here.”

“Indeed. These games have been brought by the players themselves. In fact, I’ve heard that games involving guns have become popular recently.”

“Guns?”

As the pair frowned at the unexpected word, the man continued, as if to explain himself.

“Please do not misunderstand. Of course, the games do not involve actual guns, but mere toys made to resemble the exact items themselves. One simply loads a bullet, decides the order in which he goes, and then—“

The man made the figure of a gun with his hand, and held it against his temple.

“One would pull the trigger on his own. The person who gets hit by the bullet loses. I believe this is a game that originated from Russia.”

“—Russian roulette, eh.” Sherlock murmured solemnly.

Even though the game was but an imitation, it was difficult to understand why these nobles would use such dangerous items.

However, the man proceeded to ignore the duo’s incredulous expressions, and pressed on with the topic.

“Although this game only became popular here a while ago, the company here got tired of it quite quickly. That’s why I’ve been trying to change various aspects of it on a trial-and-error basis. In fact just recently, based on a rumour I heard going around another social circle, I tried having three people use three different guns—“

“Ah…… It’s been kind of you to tell us all about this, but I’m afraid we’ll have to continue this some other time.”

Sherlock, somewhat disgusted, interrupted the man’s passionate speech and looked around the room.

“I’ve come here to look for someone.”

“I see.” The man seemed to change his mind and reacted distractedly.

“Yeah, it’s about a noble’s son……”

Then, Sherlock told him the missing young man’s name.

At that instant, William noticed that a gentleman in the vicinity had reacted vaguely to the name.

However, this wasn’t the first time it had happened. In truth, when Sherlock had entered the hall, a number of gentlemen had cast wary glances at him.

William memorised their faces as he spoke about the missing noble, casting a glance at Sherlock. The other man swiftly cast a glance back to him. Back then, Sherlock had knowingly used his fame as a detective to smoke out any suspicious characters as he entered the room.

Now all that was left was to determine the move their opponent would make.

The pair silently agreed on their next course of action. But before they had the chance to explore the movements of the people identified, a gentleman approached Sherlock.

“Could you be Mr Holmes?” he enquired.

He looked to be past forty, with a lithe figure that suited a swallow-tail coat, and a personable smile on his face. However, a cunning glint lurked in his narrow eyes.

Sherlock nodded and gave an affirmative grunt. Then the man put a hand to his chest and let out an exaggerated sigh.

“……Ohh, I simply can’t believe I’d be able to meet you in the flesh like this! Or rather, I think I’ve used up all the luck I had for today’s game.”

Saying that, he immediately straightened his posture.

“Apologies for my poor manners, I have yet to introduce myself. My name is Alan. I absolutely love exciting things that can even astonish people from the sidelines, and I’m a devoted reader of your thrilling adventures with Dr Watson.”

“Heh, I’m grateful you’re reading Doyle’s work [4]. I’m sure he would be pleased to hear that.”

“I’m deeply moved to be able to speak to you as a fan. By the way, I don’t mean to be rude, but it does appear to me that you are a little different from what’s been written in his works.”

He’d hit on a sore spot. Sherlock awkwardly scratched his cheek with his index finger.

“Ah—…… That would be due to the author’s focus on entertaining his readers. It seems he has somewhat glorified me. I suppose any differences between my image and myself are only for the worse, eh.”

“Not at all. In fact, from now on, when I read his works I’d love to imagine the real Sherlock Holmes instead.”

“Would you really enjoy that?”

As Sherlock chatted with the man who introduced himself as Alan, William made idle chatter with the man who spoke to them at first. He was carried away talking all about the Russian roulette from back then, and William nodded at the appropriate times as he observed the other gentlemen, who were gazing intently at Sherlock.

The cordiality of the conversation prevented Sherlock from bringing up the matter of the missing noble in a natural way. As such, his next move was fairly predictable.

“Well, I never thought I’d be able to have this much fun speaking with the detective I so admire.”

“If you’re that happy, then I’m happy for you too.”

“Fate’s a strange thing indeed…… By the way, Mr Holmes, would you happen to be interested in games?”

“Hmm? I did say earlier that I’m here on a different case…… but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested. Since we might as well, why don’t you introduce me to an exciting one?”

“I see, I see. You would desire something exciting.”

Immediately, something in Alan’s smile had changed. He covered his mouth with a hand as he whispered to Sherlock.

“It is true that many of the games here provide a change of pace, but my friends and I have grown completely bored with them. Hence we are in fact playing a secret, thrilling game at another location.”

“Hmm. A thrilling game, eh.”

Sherlock put on a conspicuous smile. Alan, reading it as an expression of interest, gestured to William.

“How would your companion like to join us? As long as we do so in secret, so the company here remains unaware.”

“……Sounds like fun,” Sherlock replied.

He called out to William. “Oi, Liam. Have a moment?”

“What’s the matter?”

William turned to Sherlock, having missed their conversation as he was chatting with someone else — or so it appeared.

“Alan here wants to go somewhere else to talk. Care to join us?”

Alan smiled. It was a friendly expression, as if he were the master of a house greeting guests as they entered, but William saw the true nature behind it.

——It was the look of a hunter who had just caught his prey in a net.

William readily understood the situation.

“I see. Allow me to accompany you both, then.”

He apologised to the man he was conversing with, and left the hall with Sherlock.

Footnotes:

[1] The class of people right below the nobility, considered to be of good social position (Wikipedia)

[2] Located in the St. James’s area of Westminster, London (Wikipedia)

[3] i.e. Moran

[4] In case anyone is confused about this, Watson has been writing about Sherlock’s exploits under the pseudonym of Arthur Conan Doyle.

#moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #yuumori #english translation #forbidden games

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starlightxsvt · 4 years ago

Text

Sweeter Than Sweets l pt. 3

Pairing ➳ CEO! Seungcheol x female baker!reader

Genre ➳ fluff, romance, slight smut

Warnings ➳ light cursing, some nudity, implications of sex (forgive me if it's bad, this is my first time trying to write smut)

Word count ➳ around 4.1k

A/N: Here's the third chapter~ I'm really sorry for the delay. If everything goes according to plan then there's only one more chapter left! Thank you for giving this series such love, it means a lot to me. Happy reading!

part 1 l part 2 l part 3

Part 3: THE WEDDING

"It's okay, you're gonna be fine," Seungcheol throws a smile at you as you both stand at the front door of his parents house. You continue to smooth out your beautiful champagne coloured dress and touch your hair out of nervousness.

You are here. At his parents house.

The door is opened by a maid who welcomes you into the house. You both step in and take off your coats and you follow Seungcheol to the huge living room, where his mother sits with a book in her hands.

She squeals seeing Seungcheol, adoration crossing over her features as she wraps her arms around him and kisses his forehead. "You're here! I was worried you wouldn't show up!"

"You deserve a chance to get to know ___. She's amazing," his compliment brings warmth in your cheeks as he pulls you closer to his side.

His mother grins looking at you before pulling you into a hug, "Yes yes, of course." She kisses your cheeks before a soft bark comes from behind you and you turn to see a white fluffy toy poodle, wagging it's tail, eagerly staring at Seungcheol. The man in question grins before picking it up, "Heyy, Kkukma!"

"She's our family dog. Loves Seungcheol a bit too much," Seungcheol's mother explains and you smile, nodding before gently petting the dog who licks your hand in return.

You laugh. Seungcheol kisses Kkukma's forehead before announcing, "You guys continue chatting. I'll go play with Kkukma."

You swallow, watching him disappear into the garden and his mother grins at you, "Let me show you around."

His mother walks you through their elegant house while asking about how you met Seungcheol and such. You speak the rehearsed lines and she believes them easily, making you feel somewhat bad for the poor woman.

"Seungcheol really isn't good with women, you know," his mother says while you're served a cup of tea after finishing the tour.

You offer a smile in reply and take a sip. She continues, "He used to like a girl quite a while ago. Told me that he wanted to marry her. But sadly, she turned out to be a leech who was using him for his money."

"That's... awful," you frown. Seungcheol never told you about it. But then again you're his fake lover and you mentally curse yourself for getting too much into your role.

"I take it he didn't tell you about that," She smiles. "Don't worry, he's long over her. That just made him shut himself out more. He assumed that all women were after his money but I'm glad to see he found someone like you."

You cringe inwardly. You too, are here because of money more or less. You are doing all this because he promised you a shop.

"Me too," you agree with her, playing along. She smiles. A sound catches both of your attention and you see Seungcheol's father standing at the entrance of the living room, his wary eyes casted on you. You almost choke but quickly redeem yourself by standing up and saying hi. He disregards you completely with a grunt and walks away murmuring something unintelligible.

Seungcheol's mother sighs loudly, "I'm so sorry about him."

"It's okay, I understand. Seungcheol told me about him." You mutter.

His mother offers you a sad smile. "He's been so mean to Seungcheol. To us. It was my mistake that I married that beast."

You say nothing, just stare at the cup in your hands.

She continues, "I would have divorced him long ago but he would have taken full custody over Seungcheol. I couldn't win against a man like him and I couldn't loose Seungcheol."

"I see," you whisper. His mother gently holds your hand, "I sincerely hope you won't take his words to heart. He has always been like that. Nothing we do can make him happy."

You offer her a smile, "It's really okay, Mrs. Choi."

"Minsoo, please. You're gonna be me daughter in law soon," she smiles sweetly at you. "Which reminds me! We need to set a date!"

Warmth spreads on your face as you smile, "Yeah..."

And so she starts discussing with you about the dress the venue and such and you find yourself enjoying her company. She's kind and gives full attention to you and it fills the void created by your own mother. You know you're going to miss this woman after you're divorced.

Everyone gathers at the dining table during lunchtime, including Seungcheol's father. The environment is tense as Seungcheol takes a seat beside you, opposite to his parents.

Seungcheol drops a kiss on your temple and smiles at you, flashing his dimples and you almost melt into a puddle right there. Shit, have you got it that bad?

His father's eyes bore into the two of you, clearly disapproving.

Lunch starts as Seungcheol's mother initiates conversation with her son about work. It goes well for a while- you enjoying the served food and listening to them talk- until Mr. Choi decides to break it.

"What does your parents do?" He throws at you.

Seungcheol frowns, "Father-"

You stop him by squeezing his hand and smiling at him, "It's okay, babe, he should know."

Your eyes meet Mr. Choi's, "My mother separated with my father a long time ago so I don't have contact with him anymore. My mom runs a restaurant at the suburbs."

Mr. Choi is unimpressed, you can see it in his face as he seems to judge you even harder. Mrs. Choi, however, has a different reaction, "Oh dear! It must have been hard for your mother. I'd like to meet her sometime soon."

You smile at her, "My mom kind of isolated herself after the divorce but of course, I'll let her know."

Shit, you haven't even told her you're getting married yet.

Mrs. Choi's smile is kind as she resumes eating. Mr. Choi scoffs before grunting, "I still don't understand why you chose her, Seungcheol. I know you've always been stupid but now I know you're on another level, choosing her out of all women."

Wow. You're left dumbfounded at his straight forwardness. Beside you, Seungcheol grips the fork tight as his mother tries to chastise her husband. "Hyungmin, watch what you're saying!" she shrieks.

"What?" His glare is intimidating. "She's neither rich nor pretty. Your son could've had a better looking woman yet he-"

"Enough!" Seungcheol seethes making you jump.

This...isn't gonna end well.

You open your mouth to stop Seungcheol but he bangs his first on the table, teeth gritting, "What is your problem?" He glares at his father.

"I should ask that to you." His father is expressionless.

"All my life I've tried to be a good son, I tried to be good to you no matter how much of an asshole you were to me, to mom. I've accepted that you hate me, I've no problem with that but for once in your life, can't you be supportive of me?!"

His father scoffs, "How can I when you bring a thing like her?"

Seungcheol looks like he's ready to jump on his father as he bellows, "I swear to fucking God-"

"Seungcheol!" You grab onto his arms, trying to stop him as Mrs. Choi starts sobbing.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

"This is why I don't like coming here!" Seungcheol hisses at his mother before jerking free from your hold and marches away.

Seungcheol's father stands up, rolling his eyes, "And you expect me to hand my company to him?" It's directed to his wife.

Angry tears steam down Mrs. Choi's face, "He'd be a better president than you ever were! Your company has come this far only because of my son!"

Her words land on the back of Mr. Choi who blatantly ignores his wife and walks out of the room.

The room is silent except the sounds of Mrs. Choi, trying to get her tears under control. You hand her a tissue and sit silently, watching her dry her eyes.

"I'm so sorry," she says, her eyes casted down.

You offer her a small smile. Mr. Choi's words hurt you, definitely but it's not the end of the world. He's gonna be present in your life for only a small amount of time.

"It's alright, Mrs. Choi, it really is."

She sighs, gazing upon you, her eyes filled with...love. She stands up to embrace you in her arms and holds you there; your head to her chest as you listen to her breathe.

It's comforting and you feel a tear slip down your eye.

Seungcheol walks you all the way to your door like the gentleman he is. His mood is still sour and the car ride was filled with tension. You couldn't really blame him though.

You smile at him, "His words doesn't matter to me. I hope it's the same for you. You don't need to be stressed about what he says to me."

He looks at you, those rich brown eyes looking exhausted and he does something you never expected even in your dreams.

He hugs you.

His strong arms are wrapped around your small frame, your head pressed to his chest. Your heart beats furiously in your chest.

Is this really happening?

You inhale his scent deeply and when you wrap your arms around him too, you can't bring yourself to care. You want to feel him, to hold him. So you two just stand there in front of your door in each others arms for a long time.

"Would you like to come inside?" Your voice is small and shy as he pulls back to look at you. Shaking his head, he does yet another surprising thing.

"Can I kiss you?"

Holy mother of gods-

Your face is on fire, undoubtebly. Your mouth hangs low as you stare at him. Did he just...

He takes your silence as yes and leans in to press his lips against yours. They're soft and plush and he tastes somewhat bitter and sweet from the wine you had at his parent's house. It's addicting and you can't help but moan. He only dives in deeper, kissing you with such passion and need that you're left breathless.

He pulls back, his smoldering gaze on you and licks his lips. You swallow. Your panties are wet, fuck. You want to climb him like a tree but you can't bring yourself to move, locked in a trance.

A gentle kiss is pressed to your forehead that brings you back to reality and he mutters his goodbye, hurriedly ushering you in.

After you're in the safety of your home, you touch your swollen lips, mind traveling back to the kiss.

He kissed you.

Choi Seungcheol kissed you.

"Yes, I'm getting married," you repeat once more to your mother who stays silent on the other side of the line.

"Mom?"

"That's... sudden," her calm voice floats through. Yeah, and I'll be getting divorced too.

"Yeah, we've been dating for more than a year and yeah...he proposed me."

"Wow... nice." She pauses. "Did you fix a date yet?"

"Um, not yet but it's in the next two or three weeks. Also...Mrs. Choi wanted to meet you. Maybe...you could come and visit her sometime...I don't know." There's an awkward tension- it always has been ever since your dad left.

"I'll see if can manage time," she says.

"Okay..." You're about to hang up but her voice wavers through, "And send me a picture of your rich fiance."

"Oh, yeah, I will."

SOME WEEKS LATER

Jane squeals seeing you step out from behind the curtains. You're almost ready with the gown on and your makeup done, only the veil left to be put on.

"Oh my god!" She screams with glee, a grin on her face. "You! Look at you! Oh my god!"

You look gorgeous, undeniably. The wedding gown is almost too beautiful to be real and an expensive purchase, selected by Mrs. Choi. Your makeup and hair is done neatly and you almost don't recognize yourself. Jane only squeals from behind you time to time, saying how amazing you look.

"You're forgetting that this isn't a real wedding," you remind her, your tone bitter than you intended.

Jane raises a brow, "Why do you sound sad?"

Warmth covers your face, "I'm not!" It is a cheap lie, you do feel sad and you know that deep down you wished this was real.

Shit. You've got it really bad.

"Aww, babe," Jane hugs you tightly. "It's okay, it's gonna be okay. Who knows, Seungcheol may fall head over heels for you after seeing you in this."

You roll your eyes, "Not even in my wildest dreams."

A knock on the door interrupts you and your mother steps into the room, dressed in a cream colored dress, her hair neatly done. It has been a while since you last saw her dressed up.

"I'll leave you two to talk," Jane excuses herself, stepping out of the room.

"Hey," you smile tightly. She returns it. "You look beautiful," her words are short and her eyes are teary. There's a short silence before she sighs loudly,"I know I haven't been the best mom...but I'm really proud of you, I hope you know that."

You sigh; you really don't want to cry before your wedding- fake wedding. "It's okay," you give her a small smile and sit down in front of the mirror, "Can you help me with the veil?"

She steps in behind you and starts setting up the veil on your hair, speaking, "Seungcheol is a nice guy, I had a chat with him earlier. He'll take good care of you."

You resist the urge to heave out a sad sigh. Instead you grin as brightly as you can, "I know, right."

She finishes putting the veil on you and you stand up, looking at the mirror, gathering all the last bits of your courage.

"I could walk you down the isle you know...it doesn't always have to be dads," your mother whispers.

"It's okay, I'll do it on my own," you avoid her eyes. This is a fake wedding and you don't want her to walk you down the isle, no. Maybe when you get married for real one day- but not this time.

Giving your mother a quick hug, you step out of the dressing room.

The isle looks dreadful. Walking on a path full of thorns bare feet would've been easier. Seungcheol stands at the other end, his full attention on you. You inhale deeply and take small steps towards him- all the while his eyes on you. You are intimated and in the back of your mind you can't help thinking that this was a very bad decision. You feel pathetic. A bride without anyone to accompany her down the isle. A greedy woman agreeing to a fake marriage. A liar, lying to everyone through your teeth.

Each step only gets harder to take and after what feels like an eternity, you reach the end, stopping in front of him. His face doesn't give away anything. A small part of you wonders if he thinks you look beautiful- you hope he thinks that.

You take a step and get on the wooden stage with the help of his extended hand. The priest begins the ceremony. All the while, Seungcheol's eyes are dark, glinting like a predator who has finally captured his prey.

He smirks. "I do."

With tears burning in the back of your eyes, you repeat after him, overwhelmed with emotions.

When he leans in for the kiss, you forget to breathe as your lips meet and he kisses you softly yet passionately. The guests cheer for you and when you look at them, you see joy, contradicting to what you feel. For some reason tears threaten to slip but you smile, forcing them away.

One fake marriage can't end your life.

You enjoy the rest of the ceremony more than you thought you would, all the worries slipping away from your system as you watch everyone celebrate. Time to time you take peeks at Seungcheol to see him staring at you- his eyes dark and intense, sending a shiver down your spine.

You've spent a good amount of him hanging out with him during the weeks before your wedding, either at his apartment, yours or a nice restaurant. You've only found yourself more drawn to him as you spent more time and after each date ended you wanted him to kiss you like he did after that visit to his parents' house. Unfortunately for you, Seungcheol kept his hands totally off you, only giving you quick forehead pecks as goodbyes.

As your eyes connect, sitting next to each other after the dance, you find yourself craving for him. You want his hands all over you.

Is that wrong?

A sudden, new wave of embarrassment hits you as you enter the limousine after the ceremony. Seungcheol helps you get in before entering through the opposite door as you quickly collect your beautiful dress together and sit quietly, staring at your lap.

It's almost 9 o'clock and the traffic has faded away. Seungcheol is taking you to his penthouse, a place you've only heard him talk about, a place he said you'd enjoy living in.

You wonder how the next couple years would be. How will it be like to live with him? Will you sleep in the same bed every night? Will he even enjoy sharing his house with you? What if he hates having you around?

"Are you ignoring me?" Seungcheol's voice pulls you back to reality.

You try not to appear shy and flustered, "Huh? No, no I'm not."

"You've been awfully quiet since you've walked down the isle."

"Just... thinking." You reply meekly. Damn it, why do you feel so shy?

There's a silence as Seungcheol looks out the window, hands under his chin. You take the moment to appreciate his profile, ogling him unashamedly. You really, truly, want to be in his arms. And you should probably get your head checked.

"Do you regret doing this?" He asks suddenly.

"No! No, I do not," you protest to which he nods, understanding.

After a beat if silence his hand gently cups yours. You stop breathing. "I'll try to make your living as comfortable as possible. Don't hesitate to let me know if you have any problem." His expression is serious and you nod, throat dry. He smile is soft, showing just a bit of his dimples as he holds onto your hand, not letting go. You try to calm your breathing which proves to be an impossible task whenever you look at your joined hands.

After almost an hour drive, the limousine stops and your breath is sucked out as you get out of it. In front of you stands a huge building with the fanciest design and you can't wait to see what's inside. Seungcheol helps you with your dress and casually holds your hand as you both walk into the elevator. It heads for the seventeenth floor and during that whole period of time Seungcheol doesn't let go of your hand. When the elevator stops and you both step out into a large lobby, leading to his penthouse. Seungcheol swipes the card to open the door and it's only after you step into the apartment that he lets your hand go.

You probably look like a deer in headlights as you gawk at the beautiful home, equipped to unbelievably expensive appliances and delicate designing. With high ceilings and full length windows and beautiful pieces of furniture and marble fittings it's too pretty to touch.

All the while Seungcheol's eyes are on you, amused at your reaction. "You like it?" He grins.

"I...wow," you're speechless. "This is...huge." You say dumbly. Seungcheol laughs heartily before once again taking your hand, "Let me give you a quick tour."

And so he does, showing you around the house, the huge kitchen connected to the living room, the library, the study room the guest bedrooms and finally stopping before the master bedroom.

A king sized bed lies by the huge windows. There's a closet with an amount of space you could only dream of. The master bathroom is almost the size of your studio apartment and a wave of embarrassment hits you. Will you ever get used to this? You only feel more embarrassed when you remember that this isn't yours forever.

Shit, ___. Get a grip.

You plop down on the large fluffy bed and pry off your heels from your aching feet. You watch as Seungcheol stands in front of the dresser, slowing undoing his bow tie.

There's a small moment where you both lock eyes before you cough loudly, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. Instead you quietly take off your earnings and reach for the buttons behind your dress- except, your hands can't reach them.

Seungcheol sees you struggling, "Let me do it for you." You almost let out a squeak, feeling shy and excited. You stand up as he appears behind you and starts to unbutton your dress, slowly.

It feels like eternity as you stand, holding your breath, blood pumping loudly in your veins.

Seungcheol's deep voice sends shivers down your spine, "There, done." He says that but doesn't move from behind you, his hands resting on your shoulders as the cool air hits you back. You, too, seems to be stuck on your place as you can't move a muscle. Your conscience slaps her head, what the hell is wrong with you?

"Did I tell you how beautiful you look?" Seungcheol's mouth is extremely close to your ear and you can't help but squeak, warmth spreading through your body like wildfire.

"You look lovely, so beautiful," His voice is deep as he strokes the column of your neck before turning you to face him.

Your eyes are wide like saucers and your face is on fire, literally. Just being this close to him, with none around, makes your brain stop functioning.

He leans in and captures your lips in a kiss, without any warning whatsoever. Your tongues collide and you let him take the lead, his hand grabbing your ass, unashamedly.

"Tell me if you want me stop, I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"No!" You grab onto his broad shoulders and pull him towards you again, meeting your lips once more. Of course you want him. You've wanted him since God knows how long.

While peppering your face with kisses, he pushes down your gown for you to step out of it. The cold air makes you shiver as you're left in a lacy white underwear with garter belts. Seungcheol's eyes move over your, taking in your figure. He swallows before pushing you down onto the bed and climbing over you, hurriedly taking off his suit jacket and shirt.

His eyes are locked on yours and your heart is beating a mile a minute. He looks like some god, his black locks messy and his chiseled face staring down at you, his strong body on top of you. You can't stop yourself from ogling his torso when his shirt comes off, leaving his toned muscles and biceps for you to see. Before you know it, you're reaching out to touch him. Your fingers dance over his chest and abdomen before your eyes meet and Seungcheol groans, cupping your face for another kiss.

He's quick to strip you off your bra while literring your neck and chest with kisses and bites. After fully undressing you and taking yet another unembarrassed look at your body Seungcheol asks, "Are you sure?"

You whine, needy and impatient, "Yes, please, Seungcheol. Fuck me." You're surprised at your own eagerness but it only turns Seungcheol on, a devilish smirk on his lips.

"My pleasure sweetheart." He whispers before going down between your legs.

Soft morning light hits your face, waking you up in the process. It takes a while for you to assess everything and you feel your body, especially lower half, ache deliciously- an aftermath of the numerous orgasms Seungcheol gave you yesterday night.

A strong arm is wrapped around your waist from behind, making you feel warm and safe. You sigh, playing with the wedding ring on your finger.

You're married now. To Choi Seungcheol. Shit.

Instead of letting your mind start overthinking, you gently turn around to face your husband, careful not to wake him up.

He lies there, fast asleep, his beautiful features relaxed, the morning light giving him an angelic glow. Before you can stop yourself, you're reaching out to stroke his face, your gentle fingers tracing his skin. He's so soft, so beautiful. Your heart constricts, thinking about how much you want to spend the rest of your life in his arms.

You'd be more than happy to be by his side, sharing a home with him, helping him whenever he's in need, making a family-

A sudden realisation that you tried to bury all this time dawns on you, bringing tears to your eyes.

You're in love with Choi Seungcheol.

Taglist: @chimikima @all-i-needislovee @peekabooseoksoon @masterpiecejoonie @sorrywonwoo @sweetiescoops @diamondsvts @insidesvt @bononswife @ayla-hathway @kpopssuregi @justasoftstan @top-crop @wainrain @jisungsdreamy @moon-asia @rocketink @hobis-hopeworld @coppertrashi @honeyyjihoon @seoulnights5 @rjsmochii @1-800-fandomsdestroyedme @mimaisiomai @gyubagebin @chrryhwa @junsfei

A/N 2: Please know that reblogs hold a special meaning to writers, so if you enjoyed it please reblog. And if can spare a few seconds, kindly reblog with comments. The feedback I get from everyone encourages me to write, so please do that 💖.

Also, Choi Seungcheol please come wife me up.

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xiaomoxu · 4 years ago

Text

MLQC CN Victor (Li Zeyan) Exhibition Date Part 3 & 4

SPOILER ALERT!!

It's a date which has released on CN server. I'm doing translation for personal reason, so I'm sorry if there's some mistranslation. Kindly tell me if you found some :) feel free for read it~ ^^

Read previous part here

Part.3

MC: This exhibit is called "It's Sunny Today", it's the work I want to include in the show

MC: These are the diaries of a woman for ten years, and they write the bits and pieces of her life.

MC: As for Mr. A, who is often mentioned in these diaries, he is the one she likes.

Li Zeyan bowed his head silently, flipping through one of the books

Li Zeyan: From the perspective of her narrative language style, it looks very similar to yours.

MC: Do you know what is written on the last page of this diary?.. Happy wedding.

Mr. A, whom she likes, declined her confession several times. Later, Mr. A immigrated abroad and the two broke contact.

MC: What she got again was the news that Mr. A was about to get married, so the diary stopped on this page.

Li Zeyan stopped reading the diary, his expression was a little surprised.

Li Zeyan: So what is the purpose of her diary?

I stared at the yellowed cover of the diary and recalled the description in the guidebook.

MC: There is no purpose.

MC: She later said...this is her real life, and it is a very peaceful life.

MC: In the past ten years, she entered postgraduate studies, went to a listed company as a supervisor, and later became a manager and director...

MC: Never give up on yourself for a moment.

MC: Her major for postgraduate entrance examination is one of the most difficult majors in the country.

MC: But when she thought that this school was very close to the high school Mr. A had attended, she persevered.

MC: She felt that even if she walked around the school, she seemed to be closer to his life.

MC: For a long time, she lived alone and recorded by herself,

MC: There are no grand surprises and pains, only trivial life and emotions.

Although it is a sad story, but judging from the cute and interesting description in her diary, even if she feels regretful, she still lives well.

But I talked a lot about it, but Li Zeyan kept silent, so I walked up to him and gently pulled his cuff.

MC: I finished reading here, shall we go?

Li Zeyan: This is the exhibit you want to enter the show, don't you take some photos and go back?

MC: I have this plan, but I am afraid you may find it boring.

Upon receiving his inquiring eyes, I honestly said frankly.

MC: After all, President Li always has some important things in his head every day...

MC: It is understandable that you have no interest in this kind of little love.

Li Zeyan smiled casually.

Li Zeyan: If I'm not interested in this kind of little love, I will not accompany you here on weekends.

He glanced at the diary on display again, and his expression showed some emotion.

Li Zeyan: In fact, human emotions are interlinked, and I understand her.

I didn't expect Li Zeyan to give such an answer, but I was a little stunned.

MC: Don't you think she was wasted the time she spent writing in the diary?

Li Zeyan: Will not.

Li Zeyan cast his gaze on one of the pages in the diary.

Li Zeyan: She herself wrote: No moment of time is wasted for love.

I rarely hear this type of words from Li Zeyan, it even makes me feel strange.

In my impression, we seem to seldom talk directly about the theme of "love".

Maybe it is because he always loves words and opinions. Maybe it is because I have always had a big mind. We always have no chance to understand the meaning of the word seriously.

Will he feel the same when he sees these exhibits?

I looked down, and after a short hesitation, I looked at him again.

Li Zeyan: what you want to say?

MC: Thinking... about the question you just asked me.

I went forward two more steps, one by one at such a close distance, he didn't retreat for half a step, but leaned toward me slightly.

MC: I think Little love is very interesting.

MC: You met someone and felt some emotions.

MC: From then on, you are no longer what you were before, you have been changed. This is a trace.

MC: Such traces will remain in paintings and texts, in sculptures and photography... I can also feel this trace.

Li Zeyan lowered his head and cast his eyes, and there was light and shadow in the quiet pupils.

Li Zeyan: For example.

I clearly caught the smile raised by his lips, and thought seriously.

MC: For example... The format of my plan has changed.

MC: First line indentation, font size ten to five, and paragraph spacing 1.5 are the most pleasing formats for you!

Li Zeyan raised his eyebrows lightly.

Li Zeyan: Only in this way?

MC: And there is... I became picky eater.

MC: I never thought any food was bad.

MC: But Souvenir's special menu has made my taste worse, and now I almost feel like eating Michelin.

Li Zeyan didn't hold back his smile, shook his head helplessly, and took my hand.

Li Zeyan: follow me.

There is an exhibition board in the innermost part of the second floor exhibition hall, which describes the entire process of how the exhibition was initiated to how to grow.

Picture of the curator on top....

MC: The coffee shop owner just now!

Li Zeyan: Fortunately, you did the strategy in advance, but you didn't recognize him?

MC: I just said how familiar he is!

MC: Say so...

MC: The story about this exhibition is also his story.

The literary youth who secretly fell in love with a girl spent a lot of time because they did not know how to confess. When he finally plucked up the courage, the girl died of cancer.

These words are just a few words written on the whiteboard, and even some clichés.

But when I think that this is someone, the real life that is happening, I can't help feeling regret and sadness in my heart.

Li Zeyan: So the name of this exhibition is "Speak Out".

Li Zeyan: The existence of traces is the way in which feelings are spoken.

MC: Whether it's a mouse hidden in a painting, a miss written in a diary, or a stone sculpture with a face of love...

MC: Are talking about their thoughts.

MC: Together with this exhibition, it is also a voice from the coffee shop owner who wants to make up for his regrets.

All the clips are strung together in front of my eyes, making my heart feel the most real touch.

MC: Li Zeyan, although a bit old fashioned....

MC: But if I want to make the program "New Year's Emotions" the theme of "Speak Out"...

MC: Will you approve (or reject) my plan?

Li Zeyan glanced at me, eyebrows stretched.

Li Zeyan: Depends on the quality of the plan.

Part.4

When we finished viewing the exhibition and walked out of the gate of the exhibition hall, a cold wind mixed with drizzle came.

The sun was still shining when I went out, why did it suddenly rain

Li Zeyan: I asked Wei Qian to come and pick us up.

MC: Huh? There's no need..

I quickly took out the tickets for this exhibition from my bag.

MC: I remember that the souvenirs sent by this exhibition seem to be an umbrella exchange with a ticket to the small window.

Li Zeyan naturally took the tickets from me.

Li Zeyan: You are waiting for me here.

MC: Okay

While waiting, I couldn’t help but look back at the exhibition hall and saw the coffee shop owner is closing the door.

Accompanied by the closing music melody, he flipped the store's "OPEN" sign and hung it up as "CLOSE", then inserted a lock and put the key in his pocket.

This should be his ordinary day again.

But he noticed my gaze and couldn't help but glanced at me, then smiled and waved at me and walked deeper into the exhibition hall.

There are many people in this world who have not even been able to say the most important thing, but I am different.

While in a trance, Li Zeyan had already returned under an umbrella.

In the gloomy night, the street lamps were lit up, and he slowly walked towards me in the interlacing of light and shadow.

I saw the fine raindrops wet his hair, and the dim light mingled in his deep eyes.

The traces that have already existed, it should be said in a more direct way...

MC: Li Zeyan, have you heard the music coming out of the exhibition hall?

Li Zeyan didn't hear my overtones and explained it to me seriously.

Li Zeyan: This music is to remind visitors that the closing time is up.

I was a little helpless, and then whispered to him.

MC: Didn't you think of anything else? Don't you think this music is a bit familiar?

Li Zeyan was silent, frowning slightly, as if thinking seriously.

No longer giving Li Zeyan time to think, I ran to him in small steps and stretched out a hand to him with a smile on my back.

MC: This gentleman, can you dance with me while enjoying your face?

Li Zeyan's eyes dazzled slightly.

MC: When you first taught me to dance, you used this tune.

The world is silent, and I hear my heart beating with pounding expectations.

MC: This is the trace of me being changed by you.

The warm fingertips pressed against my palm. Before I recovered, Li Zeyan pulled me into his arms completely.

In the minor tune played on the violin, I followed Li Zeyan's footsteps, gently stepping on the melody, and jumping around in circles.

The night is sinking, but my eyes are full of light

The joy exploded in my heart, like bright fireworks soaring into the night sky, echoing the sky full of stars.

No words can describe such a feeling of satisfaction.

MC: What about you?

Li Zeyan: Me what?

MC: Do you have nothing to say to me? After watching the exhibition all afternoon, there is always some afterthought.

Li Zeyan stopped and held me tight. Some raindrops were blown by the diagonal wind, and he leaned over the umbrella to completely block the rain.

Li Zeyan: Dummy.

The raindrops pattered on the umbrella surface, accompanied by his low voice falling to my ears, as if all the noise was isolated, and only him in the world existed in front of me.

Li Zeyan: Let a greedy cat clamor for dessert after dinner, I baked pudding before going out.

Li Zeyan: Do you think this is a sign of change?

~END~

Thank you for reading, kindly let me now if there's any mistranslation ><

#mlqc spoilers #mlqc cn #mlqc victor #mlqc li zeyan #mlqc date #mr love spoilers #mr love victor

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hisunshiine · 4 years ago

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Money Heist | knj | Part 3

moodboard 1 | moodboard 2 | playlist | Netflix ReImagined BTS Masterlist

↳ #NetflixReImaginedBTS: Kim Namjoon x Reader starring in a bank robbery au

↳ M-18+, implied sexual content, major character deaths, bank robbery actions (violence, use of weapons, deciet)

I had never seen anything as mesmerizing as the sun rising beyond the horizon, the contrast of the blue ocean as the warm-toned colors of the sun and skies reflected on it and bounced along with the gentle waves. I took a sip of the mango juice I had poured into a glass as I stared out of the captivating scenery.

Hawaii was a beautiful state.

When Ilsan suggested it should be our next destination after we had arrived back at the beach house, I did not like it but as he adamantly explained, none of us had been identified by the authorities.

It was the perfect time to flee South Korea. We could go undetected and did not have to hide out at Jindo until the heat settled. Ilsan suggested that we could go immediately. Sadly, despite how much of your life you plan for, reality would never reflect your wishes. Sometimes shit happened that was out of your control.

I learned that the hard way. We lost Daegu and Gwacheon while fleeing the bank. Busan and GC were arrested and the authorities knew the identities of Seoul and Gwangju.

The devastation was not the right word to use to express the anger I felt when the police plastered the images of some of us on national television. Unfortunately, Busan and GC were very popular among the locals in Jindo and often went out. People recognized them and it was by the grace of God that Ilsan woke up and heard the commotion of the police busting in and led me out of the beach house.

Guilt was not the right word either. What I felt was far more crippling and disheartening. I left my boys. I did not know where they were or what they were doing to them. I kept wishing that they were alright somehow, that they were still breathing somewhere. However, Ilsan was far less optimistic. He stated on our way out of the country the Korean government would most likely execute them, reminding me that we held the President of the country hostage, tied him up, and stripped him of all of his rights and pride.

Moreover, the stinging pain of actually losing people who I had spent every waking moment hurt me in ways I ever thought possible. As soon as we landed in Hawaii, I sank into a state I could not recognize.

Thankfully, Ilsan took care of me.

As sadistic and ruthless as he was before and during the heist, I saw him in a different light after we had arrived here. He made sure I had the space to process everything that happened when phase four was activated. I failed to protect Daegu and we lost him. I was supposed to have his back and I could not even do that.

GC could not look at me. Everything was ruined from then.

I understood his anger and sympathized when he demanded Ilsan throw me to the police. I understood. He could never forgive me. I felt his pain, the betrayal he felt despite it all being a moment where I did not react accordingly. He hated me and I understood, so I took every hurtful word, every shove and slur tossed my way.

Ilsan would not stand for it.

Regardless of how infuriated GC was, Ilsan forced him to push his feelings aside so the rest of us could make it out alive. I was not allowed to leave Ilsan’s side. He whispered in my ear, as we waited our turn to escape through the backup exit Gwacheon had created, that he was not feeling secure around GC and that I should not either. He said he had seen teams go against each other during a heist and he did not appreciate how GC glared at me.

I never left Ilsan’s side. Even after we came back to Jindo and met up with the Professor. I was not allowed to leave his side. He could not rest properly until we had cut ties and went our separate ways. Ilsan was adamant about getting out of South Korea as fast as we could.

All trust for GC had disappeared and understandably so, but Ilsan could not risk GC opening his mouth and giving the authorities any sort of information about him or me. So, I kept my distance and GC repaid the favor.

I wish I could see him one more time. I did not know where he or Busan was but I was certain they were in the police’s custody.

I clutched my glass as my forehead gently touched the cold surface of the door window looking out to the white beach. Forgiveness was all I wanted from GC and from Busan. I hoped someone was caring for his shoulder. Busan had become weak during the heist and I feared for his recovery. The Professor sent a doctor over to the beach house and he fixed him back up but I was sure that the police did not prioritize his health as much as we did.

My heart ached.

Unfortunately, due to the Professor’s involvement, Interpol was informed and a lot of people suddenly wanted to help South Korea capture everyone who was part of the heist. We had to be careful. It was only a matter of time until our identities would have been revealed too.

Too many thoughts occupied my mind, I did not register that Ilsan was behind me. I felt his bare chest grace my back as his arms wrapped around my frame, his chin resting on my shoulder blade, “Good morning, beautiful.”

“Morning.”

“What are you doing up?”

“Thinking.”

“About?”

I shook my head a little as I allowed a small sigh to come out of me. I wanted to tell him what was roaming my mind, the concerns I had, and the overwhelming guilt I felt but knowing Ilsan, I figured he would brush my feelings aside and tell me I was overthinking. Yet as soon as I felt his plump lips on my neck I closed my eyes and allowed the tender kisses to comfort me.

“Talk to me,” he hummed into my skin.

“The others. I’m thinking about the others.”

“Busan and GC?”

“Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung,” I murmured as I remembered learning their names on the plane ride to Hawaii. Ilsan bought a newspaper and he translated what the headlines said about the two thieves. I turned to face him, “Hoseok and Jungkook are still out there. You saw the news yesterday. The kitchen is still hot, Namjoon. There’s too much attention on us.”

“Not on us.”

“It’s just a matter of time.”

“It’s been three months since we did it.” He placed a kiss on my forehead as he pulled me closer to him, “Three months, baby. We are comfortable here and people mind their business.”

“It’s a matter of time.”

“Maybe. But right now, we are safe. We are rich. No one knows us as Namjoon, Y/N, London, or Ilsan. We are Mr. and Mrs. Son.” He smiled, showcasing his dimples as he reached for my hand and kissed the wedding band he had bought a month ago. With new identities and a small ceremony, Hawaii had become the staple of our love. Despite the stress and anxiety that came with robbing a bank, we managed to find a place to settle in and begin our lives as a married couple. It was calm here. And Namjoon was right, we were safe … at least, for now, we were free.

I stared into his rich dark eyes as he swayed my hips. He was being playful.

Ilsan had been hard to read since I met him almost a year ago. However, despite his resistance and innate instincts to pull away and not trust anyone, he somehow began to let his guard down. I knew it bothered him that he was responsible for another person. Much like myself, he was a soloist; always had been and figured he would be forever.

Lovestruck when he least expected it as well. It came as a surprise to both of us. However, I did not regret falling for him.

Ilsan was more than I had ever expected for myself. He was strong, smart with his decisions, and he had a lot of knowledge and experience under his belt. Regardless of his disappointment for the newfound responsibility - mostly due to a deep-rooted fear that he would not be able to protect those who trusted him the most - he never shied away from showcasing his affection for me, his passion for my body, and his enthusiasm about our love.

I leaned into his palm as it began to caress my cheek. Our eyes locked on each other as we studied one another. He pulled me closer to him, his hand now clutching my jaw as his lips met mine for a long and sensual kiss. Groaning into it slightly as the intensity grew, I felt his other hand traveling down to the hem of my t-shirt. His fingernails dug into my thigh as he exposed more of my skin while sliding the t-shirt upward, “I will protect you,” he promised into the kiss, “I will do everything to keep you safe.”

My hands traveled down his bare chest as the kiss grew more passionate. His tongue entered my mouth, slowly dancing sensually and poetically with mine as it became hungrier, almost as desperate as the first night we shared our first kiss.

I could never get tired of kissing him. His lips were soft, pillow-like as they met mine. He took his time; exploring every inch of my body and assuring I received mine before he did. A true gentleman. Often, in our afterglow, he would brag that he took great pride in fulfilling me the way I wanted to.

Those months at the beach house, we had each other on every surface imaginable. Never slowing down our pace, we kept exploring each other. I wanted him, always. I could not keep my hands to myself and neither could he. It was an intense and passionate beginning, one that drove me intoxicatingly mad. The need for each other’s embrace grew so powerful that it almost turned into a drug.

His touch was something I could not be without for too long. It felt as if I was incomplete without him. And he had - numerous times - expressed the exact same unyielding longing for me.

To the others, our relationship came across as something purely based on the physical aspect. Although it started as such, I could not deny that was the basis of it. Today, however, Ilsan was a man I saw a future with, one I cared for deeply. I had said yes when he proposed.

Rose petals all over our condo in Hawaii. Little cute notes scattered everywhere to find the ring he had bought.

When I first met him in Jindo, he did not strike me as a man filled with overwhelming patience, affection, and a whole lot of romance. Ilsan was the embodiment of a romantic lover.

As stern and direct as he was, just as attentive and soft-spoken he could be around me. He cared. More so than any man I had the displeasure to date and call a boyfriend. So, I said yes. I became him and he was mine.

Lost in the drug that was his scent, I moaned into his hungry mouth. Our tongues danced fiercer as desperate pants escaped us while our bodies overheated in arousal. He pushed into the door window, pulling one of my legs over his hip as our lips kept a steady and needy pace.

The print of his erect length brushed against my stomach and my body reacted by shooting electricity from my core as excitement overcame me.

Ilsan and I had not been able to keep our hands off each other ever since our first encounter together. The innate attraction was still very much prominent, even after a year, we could not get enough of each other. It was as if any rational train of thought disappeared and all that was left was this primal and raw need to destroy and claim one another.

Speedily, I reached for his clothed bulge. A growl into my mouth appeared from the depths of his throat. The sudden hold on it along with my desperate need to prepare him to penetrate my eager slit made him clutch my throat in response.

“Baby,” he said slightly out of breath. I stared into his dark eyes, undeniable lust pierced through them as he gawked down my entirety, “I want you slow,” he murmured. I eyed him momentarily, contemplating the words as a ray of memories rushed in my head.

Ilsan and I were not only perfect for each other in terms of lifestyles or love language but we were compatible in ways I had never experienced with a man. When I say he changed my stances and opinions about certain things, I meant it. He was unfamiliar, virtually everything about him was new and exciting. So, when we shared our first lovemaking, I was pleasantly surprised that he fucked me as I had always wanted.

I never instructed him.

It was as if his body was made for mine. Like two perfectly sculpted clays, morphing into one as we explored every inch of each other and discovered that we were nothing without one another but together, we could become something far greater than anything neither of us had experienced.

To say I was deeply in love with him would not begin to justify the emotions I felt for him. He was beyond words. Our love was beyond life.

“Slow,” I nodded and I felt his large hands cupping my rear before lifting me up. My lips found his as he carried me back to bed.

He reached for my legs, closing them together as he elevated them. I grinned when he began to place tender kisses on my ankles before he nipped at my toes. I stared into his eyes with a nervous pant, unaware of what he meant by taking it slow.

Usually, our love was passionate and raw but today he wished to take things slower. I did not mind it. It was a slight surprise and often when he did this, it meant he had something up his sleeve.

“What?” He chuckled.

“Nothing.”

“You’re being suspicious of me.”

“I’m not.”

He laughed and forced my legs open before allowing them to rest on each of his hips, “Hmm,” he hummed as he stared down at me.

“What?”

“You should be suspicious.”

“Oh?” I raised an eyebrow at him and he eyed me momentarily before he caved and pulled out a small box from his pocket, “What is this?” I used my elbows to lift myself up.

“Open it, Princess.”

“Why? What is this?” Excitement overcame me as I sat up. He threw himself beside me and watched as I opened the velvety red box, “Namjoon,” I kept repeating into a delighted giggle.

“It’s nothing special.”

“It’s not our anniversary yet,” I eagerly opened and gasped suddenly as soon as I spotted the heart-shaped emerald necklace that was staring back at me, “Oh gosh, it’s beautiful.” I was spellbound, my gaze kept studying the rose gold chain and how captivatingly the rising sunlight reflected on the stone.

“You like it?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m glad.” His rich baritone voice explained how Valentine’s Day was coming up in a couple of days and he wanted to give me something thoughtful. “I know we can’t be like every other couple and celebrate. It’s fine that you are worried, baby, I respect it and appreciate that you keep an eye out for us but I did not want you to lose this day.”

“You’re so sweet.” He flashed a tender smile as I took his hand in mine, “I love you.”

➰

The ambiance of the restaurant was something that captured the romance of this night. I had never been the type of woman who enjoyed a trivia holiday but I had to admit since Ilsan became my partner, I wanted to experience love with him. And he was good at it too. Everything was planned out. From my outfit to the place we would celebrate our love.

I sat opposite him, studied how gently the candlelight beamed at his olive skin. Spellbound and utterly captivated by his striking features as I took in his beauty. Ilsan looked amazing in a suit, he chose a beautiful one that complimented my long dark dress. He was reading the menu of the French restaurant he had picked for the occasion. He began to correct his tie and I could not help but watch as his knuckles turned white by the grip, how merely moments ago that same hand was clutching my throat.

“What?” He asked without glancing away from the menu, “What are you thinking?” I let out a small giggle, caught red-handed in my perverse thoughts. “Do you know what you want?” He ripped his eyes from the leather-covered book and caught my gaze, “You haven’t looked.”

“No.”

He eyed me momentarily. Everything around us was practically nonexistent. The chatter from the other guests faded, the soft violins playing from the speakers died down until everything evaporated and it was just us there. Sitting across from one another with a champagne bottle, red rose petals were casually thrown on the white table, and candle lights between us.

I slid my hand over to him and he caught it. His thumb gently caressing the ring on my left finger, “I like this,” I began, remembering the fight I initiated earlier this morning, “I never apologized.”

“Don’t.”

“I should,” our eyes met again. “I wish I could be like you and forget about the heist.”

“You’re inexperienced. I get it, you’re nervous.” He leaned over and placed a tender kiss on the back of my hand, “You worry. I get it, Princess.”

Ilsan had been involved with a lot of robberies and knew how to act and think afterward. He was right. I was inexperienced. Smaller shops were my thing and I never truly worried about police knocking on my door for stealing a Dior bag. But the bank of Korea was something else. We had gotten away with 700 million KRW. Divided equally among us. Unfortunately, we had to cut our time short and flee for our lives but the amount was better than nothing.

“You’re right. I’m being too obsessive.”

“Relax a little.”

“I will,” I retrieved my hand and began to look at the menu, “From now I will relax.”

➰

Ilsan excused himself during the dessert. I watched him as he left for the bathroom. Sinking to the chair, I felt fulfilled by the French meals the chef so deliciously had prepared. The crepes on my plate kept staring at me but as much as I wanted to finish the beautifully decorated crisp pancakes with fresh fruits and powdered sugar, I could not force myself to overeat. So, instead, I drank my champagne glass finish.

I observed the other guests. Some were on a date like we were and others were alone. I caught a glimpse of a woman in a suit who was sitting alone two tables from me. My gaze fell on her plate and I could not help my mind from wandering. She had been there since we arrived yet her plate of snails was untouched. She must have sensed that someone was watching her because she stared back at me and I hastily ripped my eyes away. Just as I did, I noticed two men in suits both continuously studied me. My heart immediately sank. I tried to brush their stares away earlier as Ilsan suggested, not wanting to draw attention to ourselves but now that he had gone to the bathroom and most likely would be gone for longer to pay for the meal, I felt uncomfortable being on their radar.

Then as I attempted to calm my nerves, two Hawaiian police officers entered the restaurant and I froze in my seat. My heart sank again, this time faster until it had reached my stomach. The sight of the officers knocked my breath away and I hastily reached for my purse and coat. They glanced around and had not spotted me yet, so I speedily without hesitation and without drawing too much attention on myself walked to the register.

Ilsan waved me over as the hostess handed him his credit card, “We need to leave,” I sternly whispered.

He studied my face briefly before he scanned the restaurant, “Where?”

“Two men by the entrance.”

“You sure?” He eyed me and the expression on my face must have been enough for him. He took my hand and we rushed toward the back of the restaurant.

“Stop them!” Someone shouted and we began to run.

The employees in the kitchen were startled by our sudden appearance and halted all activities. Ilsan yelled at them to point at the back door and when no one took our situation seriously, he drew his gun. Scared into submission, a chef pointed behind himself and we rushed over to the exit.

➰

We made it back to the little condo we had rented with cash. Still, with the Professor’s plan in our minds, we acted accordingly. Leave as fast as we could. I began to pack all of the essentials. Clothes and such did not matter. The money bags and our safety was our only concern.

Ilsan paused and clutched my hands before we kissed each other. This was going to be our first separation. He reached for the bags of money and walked out of the condo.

We hid a beat-up Chevrolet Impala close to our condo, able to blend perfectly once we used it to escape. Ilsan went over to it. I had only a few minutes to throw off the authorities by destroying the condo. With the television on, I began to mess up the space we had called home and created some memories that would never leave my mind.

The mention of the heist made me halt. I stared at the television as the news anchor spoke about how the authorities had caught Seoul in Finland. My heart sank once more. I froze as my eyes were glued to the screen. Images of his arrest appeared and I whimpered at the sight of him. I did not notice that Ilsan had returned. His gentle touch eased me as I had unknowingly held my breath, We watched as the news anchor explained that one of the thieves known as Gwangju was found in a hotel room in Ankara. Jung Hoseok had a full-blown shootout with the police, unable to escape, trapped like a mouse in a maze, he shot into them well-knowing they would fire back.

“He took charge,” Ilsan whispered as he gently caressed my back. Tears began to blur my vision as the realization of losing another one of us set in, “Baby?” Ilsan said until he shook me slightly, “We don’t have time for you to break down,” he reminded, “Let’s go.”

“Yes, yes,” I murmured as I wiped away the tears.

However, the mention of the assigned cities Ilsan and I had roamed in the condo making both of us stop once more and draw our attention back on the screen. The news anchor began to explain our appearance based on the hostages’ descriptions. Soon, police sketches appeared on the screen. Ilsan and I froze as we studied the candidly accurate portraits of us. Right down to his dimples and my hairstyle the day of the heist. Still, they did not know our identities.

“Thank God,” Ilsan hissed as he took my hand and guided me out of the condo.

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gotmilk5101520 · 4 years ago

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Trollhunters: Tales of Arcadia Watch Episode 20 Where Is My Mind? (Part 2)

Part 1

“No running!”

“No screaming!”

“No acting weird”

“What’s happened to you all?”

“Oh! What do you mean, it’s opening night?”

”Why is the spotlight on me?”

“Line?”

“Line!” Not knowing what to do the entire episode.

Yeah, Jim you should’ve hit him

“It’s you!”

“Hey, you, mole”

I thought pixies show everyone’s fears. Not show everyone’s wet dreams. If pixies are suppose to show everyone’s wet dreams then we be seeing how Claire’s wet dream would result in a waterfall cause her wet dreams are about- Never mind.

“Will you be my date to Spring Fling?”

“I love you”

“Toby-pie...”

“Waa!”

“Get away from me, Nana!”

“AAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!” And there’s the fear.

“We may be down a Shadowdancer”

“But Warhammer ain’t leaving your side, bud”

“AAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!”

“And there goes Warhammer” Took the words right out of my mouth, Jim.

“As for your concern about Jim, he’s had his final growth spurt”

“But his voice should be changing in season 3″

This is how i eat whipped cream.

“Oh, good, good, good afternoon”

“Mr. President Eisenhower” “When did Eisenhower died?” 1969 Blinky you are off track. Then again, we don’t want to say Trump.

“I am Steve. This is awesome. Steve is special. Steve is... special” “Do i want to know what they’re all seeing?”

“Stop looking at me!” “Nope. Don’t want to know”

“Glory!”

“Now to ignite the accelerator”

“Ha-ha!”

“Car, activate”

”Go!”

”Please?” That’s not how cars work.

“Come on!”

“How do these things work?” Use the force, Jim.

Toby and Claire just missed each other.

“The test subject has found the cure!”

“Jim! Jim! Claire! I found the cure!” Well you just passed by Claire.

And now you missed Jim.

See if you still fear this.

“I’m sorry. A gentleman never strikes a lady”

“But i’m no gentleman”

“Just do it, Toby. Just do it!”

“No, wait”

“Wait up, Enrique” Toby, you need to slap harder.

Have some Claire thinking: “Toby, your slap is pathetic”

“Wait up, wait up”

“Hey!” We now return to your daily schedule slap fight.

“Toby, what the heck is going on?”

“No time!”

”Now, stick these up your nose and let’s go protect Jim”

Claire, he said the nose, not the ears.

It’s a push door not pull.

“Romeo, don’t leave me. You can’t”

“I can’t feel them”

Moving on.

“Trolls! They’re everywhere!”

“Eli!”

We now return to your daily schedule locker shoving.

He’ll be fine. Hopefully.

“What did you see, Darce?”

“Don’t ask”

“Yeah. Let’s never speak of this again” Let’s just forget this day ever happened.

How the hell did Claire get up there? Then again, in the opening she did jump on the crystal like she was Super Mario. Eh, fuck it. Super Mario Claire au.

“Enough of this madness!”

“First appearance of pixies” Correction. The only appearance of pixies.

Party time!

#trollhunters #milk watches trollhunters #tales of arcadia

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46ten · 4 years ago

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“...the desire I have to justify myself in your opinion,” Philip Schuyler and AH, part 3

See Part 1 and Part 2.

In the year 1780 I married the second daughter of General Schuyler, a Gentleman of one of the best families of this Country; of large fortune and no less personal and public consequence. AH to William Hamilton (uncle), 2May1797

Since almost all of his letters to his father-in-law were destroyed, we’re left with only glimpses and speculation for how AH felt about Philip Schuyler. He obviously considered Schuyler an important man and boasted about their connection in the letter above, but what else did he note about PS?

To the letters:

The second step I would recommend is that Congress should instantly appoint the following great officers of state—A secretary for foreign affairs—a President of war—A President of Marine—A Financier—A President of trade; instead of this last a board of Trade may be preferable as the regulations of trade are slow and gradual and require prudence and experience (more than other qualities), for which boards are very well adapted.

Congress should choose for these offices, men of the first abilities, property and character in the continent—and such as have had the best opportunities of being acquainted with the several branches. General Schuyler4(whom you mentioned) would make an excellent President of War, AH to James Duane 3Sept1780 [politicking for his father-in-law-to-be right away!]

I have received my beloved Betsey your letter informing me of the happy escape of your father. He showed an admirable presence of mind, and has given his friends a double pleasure arising from the manner of saving himself and his safety. Upon the whole I am glad this unsuccessful attempt has been made. It will prevent his hazarding himself hereafter as he has been accustomed to do. He is a character too valuable to be trifled with, and owes it to his country and to his family to be upon his guard. AH to EH, 16Aug1781

Your father has been as usual kind. He has offered me an order for money on Mr. Morris, and has given me liberty to draw upon him, though I shall probably not make use of it. If you have occasion for money you can draw upon Messrs. Stewart & Totten, Philadelphia. I will desire them to pay your drafts. 25Aug1781, AH to EH

Your father and mother are both anxious to visit you. I join with them in wishing for snow in time to enable us to set out together. They are as kind to me as ever and seem to have discovered the full extent of your worth. 26Jan1800, AH to EH

The reception he gave me was more than usually cordial;.. 22Jan1800, AH to Angelica S. Church

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

How did AH want to be thought of by Philip Schuyler?

I leave it to my conduct rather than expressions to testify the sincerity of my affection for [Elizabeth Schuyler], the respect I have for her parents, the desire I shall always feel to justify their confidence and merit their friendship. AH to Catherine VR Schuyler, 14April1780

AH uses the phrase “justify myself in your opinion” twice in this draft to his new father-in-law, when accounting for why he is leaving Washington’s family:

I have given you so particular a detail of our difference from the desire I have to preserve your approbation justify myself in your opinion.

...[George Washington’s] estimation in your mind, whatever may be its amounts, I am persuaded has been formed on⟩ principles which a circumstance like of the present nature this cannot materially affect; but if I thought it could diminish your friendship for him, I should almost forego the motives that urge me to attain my own justification justify myself to you. I hope wish what I have said to make no other impression than to satisfy you I have not been in the wrong.

...You are too good a judge of human nature not to be sensible how this conduct in me must have operated....

...At the end of the war I may say many things to you concerning which I shall impose upon myself ’till then an absolute, inviolable silence.

I have written to you on this subject with all the freedom and confidence to which you have a right and with an assurance of the interest you take in all that concerns me. AH to PS, 18Feb1781, in the draft of AH’s account of his break with G. Washington.

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

As a beloved son-in-law (well, the only beloved in-law, haha), AH had the standing to counsel PS on family matters:

Already have I addressed the consolation, I mentioned to you, to your Father. I have no doubt the arguments I have used with him will go far towards reconciling his mind to the unexpected step you took. AH to Angelica S Church, 8Nov1789

My fathers letters have releived me from the dread of having offended him. He speaks of you with so much pride and satisfaction, that if I did not [love] you as he does, I should be a little Jealous of his attachment. Angelica S. Church to AH, 4Feb1790

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

And then we get glimpses of PS as a confidant for AH:

I have hitherto been much averse to the determination you mentioned to me, but when I reflect on the danger which your health is exposed to, an[d] the incompetent reward for the most Arduous and Important Services, and the chagrin you experience from the weakness and wickedness of those you have to contend with, I am reconciled to your Intentions. PS to AH, 5Jan1794.

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

Chernow (hahaha!) has suggested that P. Schuyler and AH were not close based largely off of interpretation of this quote: “By our advices from Albany I have great reason to apprehend General Schuyler is no more. This I consider as a great loss to his family, friends and the public.” (to Jeremiah Wadsworth, 7Apr1785). Chernow reads this as a cool assessment reflective of a lack of personal attachment. I think it’s more likely that since this was a business letter, AH was formal (and he states PS’s death as “a great loss.”

AH several times expressed concern for PS:

But this morning your papa has an attack of the Gout, not particularly severe, one indeed which in a different situation would give no uneasiness—but as his strength has been of late somewhat diminished, it is impossible not to feel anxiety about him. On the whole I advise Cornelia and you to come up. He will be very glad to see you & I hope you will find him better. AH to EH, 19Apr1797

...court avocations and distress in the family have prevented anything better - General Schuyler has been critically ill, though now, as I hope, out of danger. My brother in law, Mr. Rensselaer, has just lost a favorite daughter, one and the eldest of two children, without a prospect of more. The whole has thrown a gloom upon the family and my health is not the stoutest.” AH to McHenry, 29April 1797.

It is a great comfort to me and I hope will not be marred by bad weather; so that you may all speedily arrive and without too much fatigue to sooth and console your affected Father. Now you are all gone and I have no effort to make to keep up your spirits, my distress on his account and for the loss we have all sustained is very poignant. God grant that no new disaster may befal us; entreat your father to take care of himself for our sakes, and do you take care of yourself for mine.

I write your father by this opportunity & press him to accompany you back with Kitty. This appears to me a sine qua non. Your Sister & you must not be refused. AH to EH, 13March1803

PS in turn appreciated AH’s sentiments (”Every letter of yours affords a mean of consolation) PS to AH, 16Apr1803

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

I was at one point going to get into PS’s political skills (sorely lacking in AH), but am not sure I want to finish that post. But I’ll note this bit of smooth crisis control (PS to GW, 25Feb1781 - PS wrote this on the same day he wrote a letter to AH discussing the latter’s break with GW):

Your Excellency draws too favorable a conclusion when you suppose me competent to the business of the war department, but altho I feel myself far from able to conduct the charge in the manner it ought to be I would venture to accept relying that assiduity & perseverance would carry me thro, and with the less reluctance as I should have it in my power to ease you in some degree of that load of business, which with whatever facility you discharge it, cannot but be embarrassing and disagreeable as well as prejudicial to the public; but I cannot suppose, altho some may mention me for the office, that congress will be so imprudent, with respect to themselves, or indelicate in regard to me, as to offer it, since I have explicitely on another Occasion and in writing too, declared my intention never to hold any office under them, unless accompanied with a restoration of my Military Rank, And candidly pointed at the inconveniences which would result of themselves, from such a restoration, as It must necessarily give umbrage to many Officers.

I am perfectly in sentiment with you My Dear Sir that every good Citizen ought to evince his affection for his country in this awful Crisis by contributing his aid I am incapable of witholding mine where it can be given without a Sacrifice of honor, but to accept an office after what I have Stated to congress, and which you did not know, would render me compleatly contemptable.

We are exceedingly sorry that our hopes of a Speedy visit from Mrs Washington are diminished we cannot however give up the expectation of that pleasure.

Mrs Schuyler was delivered of a daughter on the 20th instant, She enjoys a share of health much beyond what is usual in such a situation, Had it been a boy I should have taken the liberty to have honored with Your name—permit me that of requesting you & your Lady to be entered as Sponsors for the Girl.

After getting a letter from AH re. the latter’s break with GW, PS states his refusal of leading the War Dept, but then follows it up with, “I wanted to name my baby after you! Will you and your wife be her godparents instead?!” Who knows what the original intention was - the PS/CVRS naming pattern was very much family names/relatives and one very close family friend (John Bradstreet) - so I think it unlikely that they were going to name their kid “George Washington Schuyler,” and it’s awesome that he throws that in there! [The kid is Catharine V R Schuyler, the younger.]

#Philip Schuyler #Alexander Hamilton #Angelica S. Church #Elizabeth S. Hamilton #George Washington

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hazycosmicchild · 5 years ago

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Hi again, just me :P 1.) James/Niki “you asshole gave me a fright!” 2.) Toto/Susie “are you trying to be a Kennedy?” 3.) Mitta “let me clean your wounds...” 4.) Nico/toto “I’m 75% sure this won’t blow up in our faces.” Thank you xx

Hello sweetie, thanks again for these, they’ve been the perfect distraction. They are below the read below as it is a rather long once again. The Launt one is a little NSFW. Enjoy sweetie!

Launt

“You asshole, gave me a fright!” James grinned when he heard Niki say that to him, despite the number of times that Niki had warned him repeatedly not to sneak up on him, James just couldn’t resist.

“You know for a rat you certainly aren’t very good at sensing things,” he smiled at the man, the same infuriating smile that made Niki want to kiss him and slap him at the same time.

“And for an English gentleman you’re not very gentlemanly,” Niki gave him a rather unimpressed look, though this didn’t stop James from grinning at the Austria.

“How could you say such slanderous things Niki I am a gentleman thank you and I can prove it too,” he replied to him as he leaned in close to Niki so that he could whisper in his ear without other people overhearing their conversation. Niki held his breath a little as James whispered quietly in his ear, “I always let you cum first out of the two of us, that is a gentlemanly thing to do.”

The Wolffs

“Are you trying to be a Kennedy?” Toto would be the first to admit he didn’t know a huge amount about the Kennedy family, only that one was President of the United States, and that as a family they seemed to be pretty cursed when it came to tragedies. But as he saw Susie adjusting a very nice and fashionable pillbox hat that coordinated perfectly with the smart skirt suit she had picked out to wear, he was getting Jackie Kennedy vibes from her.

Susie looked over at her husband after she had made sure the hat was sitting perfectly on her well styled hair and smiled, “I will admit I may have borrowed a style tip or two from Jackie O, what do you think?”

Toto smiled and moved to hold her hand, looking very proud and besotted with her, “I think I will have the most beautiful and fashionable woman on my arm for this posh party we have to go to.”

Susie blushed at his words, finding Toto charming as always as they made their way out of the bedroom, “well thank you for that compliment Mr President,” she winked at him.

Mitta

“Let me clean your wounds.” Britta was rather resistant at first to letting Mark take care of her, but very quickly gave in when she realised she didn’t really got much of a choice, and that what she’d done was rather painful. She and Mark had been out riding their bikes when she’d hit a patch of uneven ground, and was thrown unceremoniously from her bike, skidding along the tarmacked road quite badly. She was sure it looked worse than it was, but that hadn’t stopped Mark being worried as he tried to clean some of the deeper wounds and covered them with a plaster.

Britta couldn’t help but chuckle a little at the irony of the situation, as she did Mark looked up at her curiously until she spoke, “normally it’s me doing this for you when you’ve come off your bike.”

Mark smiled as he wiped away some of the blood carefully, taking amazing care of Britta as she often did for him, “well now it’s my turn to play nurse Roeske.”

Nicoto

“I’m 75% sure this won’t blow up in our faces.” When Toto heard Nico utter that statistic he instantly began to fill with doubt about if this was the right thing to do, swallowing rather nervously as he spoke, “so what about the other 25% of your ingenious plan?” Nico looked at Toto and could see the nervousness on his face, he knew if he wanted to he could lie to Toto and tell him the other 25% of his plan was that the two of them would be lauded and praised, but he wasn’t about to lie to Toto like that.

He looked at the man rather solemnly as he replied, “the other 25% is this backfires so badly we both lose our jobs, are outcast form the sport, and we’ll be erased from the history books of F1.”

Toto gulps a little as he thought about Nico’s words, he’s still determined though to tell Niki about their relationship as he reaches out a hand to Nico, “so, do you still want to do this?”

Nico looked up at the man he loved and nodded as he took a hold of the hand Toto had offered him, “I want to do this, we deserve not to hide our true selves anymore.”

#askbox #send me a ship #Launt #The Wolffs #Mitta #Nicoto #historygeek12 #thank you!

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wearyewe · 5 years ago

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...The candidates were talking about health care. At first, Biden sounded strong, confident, presidential: “My plan makes a limit of co-pay to be One. Thousand. Dollars. Because we—”

He stopped. He pinched his eyes closed. He lifted his hands and thrust them forward, as if trying to pull the missing sound from his mouth. “We f-f-f-f-further support—” He opened his eyes. “The uh-uh-uh-uh—” His chin dipped toward his chest. “The-uh, the ability to buy into the Obamacare plan.” Biden also stumbled when trying to say immune system.

Fox News edited these moments into a mini montage. Stifling laughter, the host Steve Hilton narrated: “As the right words struggled to make that perilous journey from Joe Biden’s brain to Joe Biden’s mouth, half the time he just seemed to give up with this somewhat tragic and limp admission of defeat.”

Several days later, Biden’s team got back in touch with me. One of his aides gingerly asked whether I’d noticed the former vice president stutter during the debate. Of course I had—I stutter, far worse than Biden. The aide said he was ready to talk about it. In November, after Biden stumbled multiple times during a debate in Atlanta, the topic would become even more relevant.

...Stuttering is a neurological disorder that affects roughly 70 million people, about 3 million of whom live in the United States. It has a strong genetic component: Two-thirds of stutterers have a family member who actively stutters or used to. Biden’s uncle on his mother’s side—“Uncle Boo-Boo,” as he was called—stuttered his whole life.

In the most basic sense, a stutter is a repetition, prolongation, or block in producing a sound. It typically presents between the ages of 2 and 4, in up to twice as many boys as girls, who also have a higher recovery rate. During the developmental years, some children’s stutter will disappear completely without intervention or with speech therapy. The longer someone stutters, however, the lower the chances of a full recovery—perhaps due to the decreasing plasticity of the brain. Research suggests that no more than a quarter of people who still stutter at 10 will completely rid themselves of the affliction as adults.

The cultural perception of stutterers is that they’re fearful, anxious people, or simply dumb, and that stuttering is the result. But it doesn’t work like that. Let’s say you’re in fourth grade and you have to stand up and recite state capitals. You know that Juneau is the capital of Alaska, but you also know that you almost always block on the j sound. You become intensely anxious not because you don’t know the answer, but because you do know the answer, and you know you’re going to stutter on it.

Stuttering can feel like a series of betrayals. Your body betrays you when it refuses to work in concert with your brain to produce smooth speech. Your brain betrays you when it fails to recall the solutions you practiced after school with a speech therapist, allegedly in private, later learning that your mom was on the other side of a mirror, watching in the dark like a detective. If you’re a lucky stutterer, you have friends and family who build you back up, but sometimes your protectors betray you too.

...The students are taking turns reading a book, one by one, up and down the rows. “I could count down how many paragraphs, and I’d memorize it, because I found it easier to memorize than look at the page and read the word. I’d pretend to be reading,” Biden says. “You learned early on who the hell the bullies were,” he tells me later. “You could tell by the look, couldn’t you?”

...“The paragraph I had to read was: ‘Sir Walter Raleigh was a gentleman. He laid his cloak upon the muddy road suh-suh-so the lady wouldn’t soil her shoes when she entered the carriage,’ ” Biden tells me, slightly and unintentionally tripping up on the word so. “And I said, ‘Sir Walter Raleigh was a gentle man who—’ and then the nun said, ‘Mr. Biden, what is that word?’ And it was gentleman that she wanted me to say, not gentle man. And she said, ‘Mr. Buh-Buh-Buh-Biden, what’s that word?’ ”

...Listening back to that part of the conversation after our interview made me feel dizzy. I can only speculate as to why Biden’s campaign agreed to this interview, but I assume the reasoning went something like this: If Biden disclosed to me, a person who stutters, that he himself still actively stutters, perhaps voters would cut him some slack when it comes to verbal misfires, as well as errors that seem more related to memory and cognition.

But whenever I asked Biden about what appeared to be his present-day stuttering, the notably verbose candidate became clipped, or said he didn’t remember, or spun off to somewhere new.

I wondered if I reminded Biden of his old self, a ghost from his youth, the stutterer he used to be. He and I are about the same height. We happened to be wearing the exact same outfit that day: navy suit, white shirt, no tie. We both went to all-male prep schools, the sort of place where displaying any weakness is a liability.

As I listened to the recording of our interview, I remembered how I used to respond when people asked me about my stutter. I’d shut down. I’d try to change the subject. I’d almost always look away.

...This evolution in treatment has been accompanied by a new movement to destigmatize the disorder, similar to the drive to view autism through a lens of “neurodiversity” rather than as a pathology. The idea is to accept, even embrace, one’s stutter. There are practical reasons for this: Research shows, according to Donaher, that the simple disclosure “I stutter” benefits both the stutterer and the listener—the former gets to explain what’s happening and ease the awkward tension so the latter isn’t stuck wondering what’s “wrong” with this person. Saying those two words is harder than it seems. “I’m working with people who spend their whole lives and are never able to disclose it,” Donaher told me.

Eric S. Jackson, an assistant professor of communicative sciences and disorders at NYU, told me he believes that Biden’s eye movements—the blinks, the downward glances—are part of his ongoing efforts to manage his stutter. “As kids we figure out: Oh, if I move parts of my body not associated with the speech system, sometimes it helps me get through these blocks faster,” Jackson, a stutterer himself, explained. Jackson credits an intensive program at the American Institute for Stuttering, in Manhattan, with bringing him back from a “rock bottom” period in his mid-20s, when he says his stutter kept him from meeting women or speaking up enough to reach his professional goals. Afterward, Jackson went all in on disclosure: Every day for six months, he stood up during the subway ride to and from work and announced that he was a person who stutters. “I had this new relationship with my stuttering—I was like Hercules,” he told me. At 41, Jackson still stutters, but in conversation he confidently maintains eye contact and appears relaxed. He wishes Biden would be more transparent about his intermittent disfluency. “Running for president is essentially the biggest stage in the world. For him to come out and say ‘I still stutter and it’s fine’ would be an amazing, empowering message.”

Occasionally, Biden has used present-tense verbs when discussing his stutter. “I find myself, when I’m tired, cuh-cuh-catching myself, like that,” he said during a 2016 American Institute for Stuttering speech. Biden has used the phrase we stutterers at times, but in most public appearances and interviews, Biden talks about how he overcame his speech problem, and how he believes others can too. You can watch videos posted by his campaign in which Biden meets young stutterers and encourages them to follow his lead. They’re sweet clips, even if the underlying message—beat it or bust—is out of sync with the normalization movement.

Emma Alpern is a 32-year-old copy editor who co-leads the Brooklyn chapter of the National Stuttering Association and co-founded NYC Stutters, which puts on a day-long conference for stuttering destigmatization. Alpern told me that she’s on a group text with other stutterers who regularly discuss Biden, and that it’s been “frustrating” to watch the media portray Biden’s speech impediment as a sign of mental decline or dishonesty. “Biden allows that to happen by not naming it for what it is,” she said, though she’s not sure that his presidential candidacy would benefit if he were more forthcoming. “I think he’s dug himself into a hole of not saying that he still stutters for so long that it would strike people as a little weird.”

...As he watched The King’s Speech, Biden accurately guessed that the screenwriter, David Seidler, was a stutterer. “He showed me a copy of a speech they found in an attic that the king had actually used, where he marks his—it’s exactly what I do!” Biden tells me, his voice lifting. “My staff, when I have them put something on a prompter—I wish I had something to show you.”

He pulls out a legal pad and begins drawing diagonal lines a few inches apart, as if diagramming invisible sentences: x words, breath, y words, breath. “Because it’s just the way I have—the, the best way for me to read a, um, a speech. I mean, when I saw The King’s Speech, and the speech—I didn’t know anybody who did that!”

...A stutter does not get worse as a person ages, but trying to keep it at bay can take immense physical and mental energy. Biden talks all day to audiences both small and large. In addition to periodically stuttering or blocking on certain sounds, he appears to intentionally not stutter by switching to an alternative word—a technique called “circumlocution”—which can yield mangled syntax. I’ve been following practically everything he’s said for months now, and sometimes what is quickly characterized as a memory lapse is indeed a stutter. As Eric Jackson, the speech pathologist, pointed out to me, during a town hall in August Biden briefly blocked on Obama, before quickly subbing in my boss. The headlines after the event? “Biden Forgets Obama’s Name.” Other times when Biden fudges a detail or loses his train of thought, it seems unrelated to stuttering, like he’s just making a mistake. The kind of mistake other candidates make too, though less frequently than he does.

During his 2016 address at the American Institute for Stuttering, Biden told the room that he’d turned down an invitation to speak at a dinner organized by the group years earlier. “I was afraid if people knew I stuttered,” he said, “they would have thought something was wrong with me.”

Yet even when sharing these old, hard stories, Biden regularly characterizes stuttering as “the best thing that ever happened” to him. “Stuttering gave me an insight I don’t think I ever would have had into other people’s pain,” he says. I admire his empathy, even if I disagree with his strict adherence to a tidy redemption narrative.

In Biden’s office, as my time is about to run out, I bring up the fact that Trump crudely mocked a disabled New York Times reporter during the 2016 campaign. “So far, he’s called you ‘Sleepy Joe.’ Is ‘St-St-St-Stuttering Joe’ next?”

“I don’t think so,” Biden says, “because if you ask the polls ‘Does Biden stutter? Has he ever stuttered?,’ you’d have 80 to 95 percent of people say no.” If Trump goes there, Biden adds, “it’ll just expose him for what he is.”

I ask Biden something else we’ve been circling: whether he worries that people would pity him if they thought he still stuttered.

He scratches his chin, his fingers trembling slightly. “Well, I guess, um, it’s kind of hard to pity a vice president. It’s kind of hard to pity a senator who’s gotten six zillion awards. It’s kind of hard to pity someone who has had, you know, a decent family. I-I-I-I don’t think if, now, if someone sits and says, ‘Well, you know, the kid, when he was a stutterer, he must have been really basically stupid,’ I-I-I don’t think it’s hard to—I’ve never thought of that. I mean, there’s nobody in the last, I don’t know, 55 years, has ever said anything like that to me.”

He slips back into politician mode, safe mode, Uncle Joe mode: “I hope what they see is: Be mindful of people who are in situations where their difficulties do not define their character, their intellect. Because that’s what I tell stutterers. You can’t let it define you.” He leans across the desk. “And you haven’t.” He’s in my face now. “You can’t let it define you. You’re a really bright guy.”

He’s telling me, in essence, that my stutter doesn’t matter, which is what I want to tell him right back. But here’s the thing: Most of the time, Biden speaks smoothly, and perhaps he sincerely does not believe that he still stutters at all. Or maybe Biden is simply telling me the story he’s told himself for several decades, the one he’s memorized, the one he can comfortably express. I don’t want to hear Biden say “I still stutter” to prove some grand point; I want to hear him say it because doing so as a presidential candidate would mean that stuttering truly doesn’t matter—for him, for me, or for our 10-year-old selves...

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Vote for whomever you think would be the best president. There are plenty of valid reasons to prefer one candidate over another. But stop spouting off bullshit conspiracy theories while pretending to be an expert in speech pathology, stuttering, AND senility. (And realize you’re also implicitly calling everyone with a stutter or any speech disorder mentally demented or mentally deficient).

#long post #don't care #this shit is starting to really piss me off #and sounds exactly like the shit the alt-right and fox news puts out

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