#this is why I said Jorge was embarrassing

[waru-chan8]

Just Jorge telling the world why Dani is a better rider than Marc despite not being as quick as Marc or having the same amount of tittles.

Bonus:

Liked by Dani Pedrosa (and Alonso López)

[moonshynecybin]

Any updates you’d want to share of your incredible marc 31&unfucked/airport rosquez wip? Or do you move in silence

twink for sale. never fucked. part one here, part two here ! yet again i have not reread the previous parts so these idiots might very well be talkin in circles. c'est la vie i am what i am.

Marc leans against the counter of the bar, a thick slab of slightly sticky wood covered in a mess of elbows and drinks. It’s not exactly a dive, but it’s unpretentious, laid back. Marc likes it. Likes the sound of the music and the smell of cigarette smoke.

The Ducati crew are all here, plus the Gresini people— celebrating an all-Ducati podium that saw Pecco roaring away into the distance before anyone could figure out a way to catch him, shades of Jorge Lorenzo. Marc had snapped up P3. Whatever.

He sighs. Studies the menu like he isn’t just going to order the same thing he always does.

Alex is feeling sick— staying at the hotel— and he doesn’t even know why he’s here. It's nice, but he doesn’t really know anyone. He wants to text Santi, see what the people at Honda are up to, but he balks. Someone might run a headline, and he doesn’t want to deal with that. He'll call them later, when he gets back to Spain, and link up for dinner then.

He orders his mojito and pauses, caught as a warm hand lands on his shoulder. He looks over, expecting one of his mechanics or someone from the factory team. Instead— Valentino. VR46 must��ve been invited as well. 

A grin splits his face before he can help it. 

“You still order the same drink.” Vale muses, like poking that particular bruise doesn’t even hurt him. He just— remembers Marc’s drink order like it’s nothing,

Marc ducks his head. “Shut up,”

“No, it’s just, you said– you are older now, yes? I thought maybe you would make a change?”

“Why should I? I like what I like.”

Vale flags the bartender and asks for a Negroni, curls his long hand against the glass. Marc catches his eyes on the bones of a wrist, the way it looks in the low lighting. He blinks.

He doesn't know what’s going on with him lately. 

Vale leans closer, looks around, conspiratorial. Grin white sharp in yellow light, shirt gaping at the collar to expose the long lines of his neck. He raises a finger at Marc.

“You know, Bez has a bet about you,”

“Bezzecchi?” Marc asks, pulling back into himself— he’s never called him Bez, isn’t about to start now.

Vale tilts a chin over to the corner, where Bezzecchi and Pecco seem locked in some sort of boozy, animated discussion. Marc catches snatches of words in Italian: tattoo, turbo, braking.

“What bet?” He asks, turning back to watch Vale take a sip of his drink. It’s a wonder there’s not a camera on them. Although— he thinks about that headline. Friends again. Maybe he wouldn’t mind.

“That you will not win another title,” Vale says casually, smacking his lips around the bitter of his drink. 

They’ve never been two people known for playing it safe.

Marc hums, fiddles with his bar napkin. “Oh, does he?” He doesn’t mention the bet he’s been told Uccio has. Four thousand dollars towards the same.

Vale nods. Places an elbow next to Marc on the bar and leans. Marc catches a whiff of his cologne— something spicy.

“Why should I care?” Marc shrugs, plays confused. He doesn’t— it’s Bezzecchi. He’s always been a bit weird about Marc. After Valencia last year, Marc has just written him off completely. One of Vale’s devotees too caught up in their history to think clearly for himself.

Vale laughs. “I guess you shouldn’t.”

“And what about you?” Marc prods, a little spiky. He's pretty sure he knows the answer. “What do you think? Will I win?” 

Vale tilts his head. 

“You could do it,” and Marc stares. “—if it rains.” Is the punchline that drags a smile back to him like a punch to the gut.

“Ah, I see. Master in the wet.” Marc waggles his eyebrows and Vale chuffs a laugh, scrubs a hand down his face like he’s embarrassed he finds Marc funny. 

“No no, but you’re the only one crazy enough— Brno 2019,” He reminds Marc. “Why was it raining for us and not for you?”

Marc doubles over, presses his smile into his palm. He still can’t quite believe this is happening— that Vale still knows how to twist the knife enough to make it sweet instead of making it hurt, teasing in ways that make Marc bark a laugh instead of blink away the burning feeling in his stomach. Now the joke is— how bad it got is almost funny. The ludicrousness of their falling out. His injury. Vale retiring. Leaving Honda. and Marc shouldn’t be laughing really, but Vale’s always found a way to thrive in the comedic incongruity of a situation. How the hell did we even get here? Is the question, and they both seem to find it abruptly hilarious, tension snaking ephemerally away from them as they giggle like children.

Vale regroups, catching his breath, “Bah, anyways. Pecco will be very, very strong. Hard to beat when he is giving 100%.” 

It’s probably the truth. It’s what he should say. Marc doesnt think he means it, and his smile grows.

He pretends to think. “Yes. He is. But I'm not trying to be greedy— nine is, nine would be a good number.” Continuing their theme—half a jab, half a joke—a test. Are they there yet, he's asking, can Vale take the same treatment from Marc? Daring Vale to confirm all his worst assumptions. If he’s going to pull back, get it over with. Pull him down to earth from where it feels like he’s floating away.

“Not as good as ten, no?” Vale says smoothly, and it would sound like taking the bait but his voice is still a tease, and his smile is still there, and he’s still next to Marc. Leans closer, even.

Marc doesn’t think he’s blinked in the last 45 seconds.

“No,” Marc lets every bit of his confidence into his voice. Nine times world champion is good, but Vale is right. He wants ten. “No, it’s not.”

“Ah, so that is the plan? Beat me?” Vale pulls another sip from his drink, leaning on the bar like he owns it. 

Marc shrugs, grins hugely. “Beat everyone. These guys— they are not better than you, and they are not better than me.”

“Maybe not.” Vale’s looking at him, eyes sparkling, and Marc’s melting down, like sugar dissolving into tea.

He clears his throat. Maybe the mojito is stronger than he thought. He hasn’t— they’ve never talked about it like this. He hasn’t wanted to talk about this. But he likes that it’s happening now, somehow. That it’s happening like this, like it’s the past instead of the present.

“Eh, you know, you’ve been coming to a lot of races.” 

“I have people I want to see.” Vale says, which could mean a lot of things, and “Old friends included,” which could mean less things but also isn’t necessarily any less confusing. Then he taps a finger on the edge of Marc’s drink, a non sequitur. “Can I try?”

Marc nods, feels like his brain is running a step behind his body. Watches Vale move the straw to take a sip from the rim, then think through the taste hitting his tongue.

“Do you like it?”

Vale shrugs, noncommittal, then pushes his glass towards Marc. He puts his hand on the back of Marc’s neck. 

“Here. Try mine.”

“No, no no— I have had Negronis. Too bitter.” Marc says, even as he raises the drink to his lips. There's no straw in this one, just lips against glass. He wonders if it’s the same spot Vale had been drinking from earlier.

Bitter aromatics burst in his mouth. He makes a face against the strength of it, feels Vale’s laugh through his hand on the back of his neck. He shivers a little, it’s— he doesn’t know why he's doing that.

He decides not to think about it. It could be cold in here, he hasn’t really been paying attention.

“Ah, you’re one of those with a sweet tooth?” Vale takes his drink back from the well of Marc’s hand, and their fingers zap a little static shock that makes Marc feel brave.

Marc winks. “I am guilty.”

Vale just— looks at him. And they’ve done a lot of that in their history, looked at each other, tried to ascertain the next move to make on track or the next mind game to use in a press conference— but this feels different. Marc feels different. His skin feels tight and his head feels dizzy and his heart is pounding, and through it all Vale keeps looking, and he doesn’t quite know what to say or what to do, but he knows he doesn’t want it to stop.

There's a big cry from the other side of the room, breaking his train of thought— some mechanics in a rowdy conversation of some sort, and Marc becomes hyper aware of how exposed they are right now. Anyone could see— well, he doesn’t know quite what, but he knows he doesn’t want them to see it. He shifts, darts eyes to the exit.

He wants to leave, and it could be the alcohol, but Vale’s face is pretty much the exact thing that Marc wants to see right now.

“Want to head back?” Marc asks, feeling a little reckless— it’s a flyaway, he’s pretty sure they’re all packed inside the same hotel.

Vale considers him for a minute, and as Marc waits for him to speak he wonders if the booze is catching up to him. The world feels like it’s rushing around his ears. 

“For sure.” Vale murmurs, and when he takes his hand off of Marc’s neck he can feel it slide all the way down his back.

When they get into the Uber, Marc looks at his phone and gives a little groan. Tries to shake it off. Feel more sober. Reassert some normalcy from their earlier tension. Vale and him– they haven't been friends in eight (Or nine? Marc thinks, Is it nine?) years. There’s bound to be growing pains.

“It’s so early.” He groans.

Vale nods. It is.

“I’m old.” Marc continues, reminded of their conversation in the airport. It’s true now— with Aleix going, he’ll be the veteran. How did that happen. You can’t talk to me about old, Vale had said. But he finds that he wants to.

“You are not old,” Vale echoes, with emphasis, like Marc’s insane. What does he know, he’s even older.

Marc puts a hand on his bad arm, which hurts. Slides down in the seat a little, loose with alcohol. He's such a lightweight now. He lets out a big sigh.

Vale nudges him. He's got a look on his face— that same conspiratorial one from the bar earlier, and Marc cranes his neck up.

“Marc,”

“Yeah?” God, his eyes are blue.

“Tell me— do you want to pay Bez back?”

“What?” Marc croaks, not really processing what he’s saying. He doesn’t want to talk about Bezzecchi— he can still see the skin between Vale’s shirt and his neck, can’t stop looking at it. He leans in heavily. Thinks about a world where Vale puts a hand on the inside of his thigh and leans right back.

“Yeah.” Vale flips up his hand to flash a hotel key card. probably Bezzecchi’s. He grins, waiting for Marc to get the joke, and after a moment— it clicks. Laughter explodes out of Marc’s chest. 

It's been a minute since Valentino and him were on the inside of something. In cahoots, instead of at odds, and he feels— energized. Adrenaline creeping into him like an old friend. Suddenly, he doesn’t feel old at all, and he wants to get out and do something— sweat, dance, move, fuck. Get Vale to keep smiling at him. Ruin Bezzecchi’s day. Win another race this year. Win a championship.

For once, he sure that Vale feels about the same.

He leans into Vale’s space, sees his smile widen in return. “Let’s hide all of Bezz’s socks.”

So they do.

[iwritebigbellies-blog]

Will you spoil us and talk about a dream dinner date (aka public stuffing lol) of yours? Love your writing sm

I'm having eye surgery tomorrow (in 15h!!!) so I can't look at a screen long enough to write long... but "dream dinner dates" are a thing I write about all the time, so I have one in the bank. I posted a fragment of this a while ago... here's the whole.

***

They'd been playing for hours, the five of them; digging up every 5-player boardgame that never saw the table. Nora was used to her regular group, the four of them every Wednesday for years, but this was the first time she'd brought Tristan. They'd been dating long enough, but her friends...they would put him through the wringer. She'd avoided putting them in the same room until she couldn't, but thank god, her big, cinnamon roll of a boy fit right in. However soft he was with her, here, he had a wicked wit and could shit talk with the worst of them.

Eventually, Dave had to head home, but Jorge and Matt were up for dinner. Nora glanced at Tristan.

“You in?”

“Dinner, me?” he said, scandalized. “That would ruin my diet.” Nora almost choked trying not to laugh out loud at that. “But I did spend three hours in the gym today so maaaaaybe I deserve a cheat day.”

Jorge, the only person on the planet who knew even a little bit about her food thing, raised an eyebrow at her. “Diet,” he said skeptically.

“Cheat day,” she said firmly, shooting him her best don’t encourage him look, but Jorge couldn’t have understood about Tristan. Not when they’d met five hours ago. RIP me, I guess, she thought. As if every day wasn't a "cheat day" for Tristan.

“Cheat day,” Tristan repeated with some glee, rubbing his hands together.

Or RIP Tristan. She shivered.

Matt brought them to a pub near his place, craft beers and hi-lo bar foods in considerable portions. Nora knew better than to order anything but a salad at a place like this, but Tristan perused the menu like it was the table of contents and he was gonna start on the first page and work his way to the end. Nora’s heart flipped over half with desire and half with panic.

“Tris,” she said, low, leaning close to his ear. “You don’t have to impress me.” As much as the look on his face lit her up, he’d been so manic all day, she didn’t trust him to be safe.

“I’ll be good,” he muttered back. He took her chin with his fingers and kissed her gently before leaning close to her ear. “Can’t have you having orgasms at the table with your friends.”

Why did that give her goosebumps? He rubbed her prickly flesh until it was warm and soft again, looking as innocent as a lamb. She knew she was in trouble but it was too tempting for her to care.

“Mercy me,” Tristan said to the waiter. “Pint of Blood Brother. Hot Cheetos chicken wings and the mac and cheese. That’s two food groups, right? How about the deep fried pickles? That’s a vegetable. Thanks.” He pulled the menu back before the waiter could take it. “And leave a menu.”

Jorge looked Nora squarely in the eye with a shit-eating grin of pure entertainment. Nora scowled back.

Anyway, both Matt and Jorge ordered ridiculous things as well, so Nora got gyoza and pretended she lived on the moon. Sitting at a table with three men eating like pigs, one of whom was deliberately trying to get her worked up and another of whom would absolutely egg him on was either the most embarrassing or most amazing thing she could have hoped for out of the evening, and the jury was out on which. Their beers came, she snuggled up against Tristan, and at least for the next ten to fifteen minutes, she relaxed into her happy place.

The alcohol helped blur the edges. She loved this. Her friends, talking about games and the people they all knew and sounding out Tristan for his versions of the experiences they’d all had, looking for common acquaintances. When the conversation strayed away from him, Tristan just watched her with a goofy grin. Nora could practically see the cartoon hearts in his eyes.

And lord, they ate. The food here was so fun that everyone had to try everything, and they’d not even made it through the course when Matty and Tristan had flagged the waiter to add a couple more things “for the table.” Nora had been worried about Tristan pushing himself to make her crazy or Jorge egging him on to make her crazy, but all three of them were just in their element, enjoying the food and drinks like they did this all the time. Nora tried to pretend she didn’t notice how excessive it was, and realized early on that she was gonna be the designated driver equivalent, because even though none of them were driving, these guys were gonna have trouble finding their way to the subway, or an Uber. She sipped water and enjoyed the show.

By the time their actual meals arrived, the guys had already put away one of everything on the appetizer menu and two pints each. Tristan sat back on the bench with one arm tight around Nora’s shoulders, and she snuggled into his shoulder, rubbing his belly with one hand. That wasn’t even inappropriate; there was something about the ambiance of the place that made belly-rubbing part of the meal. Nora just leaned into it, practically purring with pleasure as Tristan drank and laughed and glowed with the people she considered her family.

None of them slowed down over their mains, not really, even though Tristan’s “mac and cheese” was a massive skillet of five-cheese gooeyness crumbled with fajita chicken and more Cheeto crunch. Massive was this place’s MO, everyone here knew what they were getting into.

“Hell of a cheat day,” Jorge finally did say, winking at Nora. “I don’t need to eat again until next week.” He’d left a wreck of his burger, which was too big for mere mortals, and was throwing in the towel.

Tristan wasn’t slowing in the least, but he nodded enthusiastically. “I’m coming here every cheat day, starting tomorrow.” He grinned at Nora, who was by now curled into herself, nursing her beer and watching the meal unfold with burning cheeks.

“Dessert, though,” Matty said. Nora didn’t expect this of him, but maybe she should have. He’d brought them here. He knew what he’d gotten them into. “Save room. We have to at least try the tempura spread.”

Tristan nodded. “Save room. Sure,” he said. Nora, eyes flickering to his beltline every 90 seconds, was well aware that room was not something he would save, it was something he would make. “You gonna eat your fries?” he asked Jorge, who responded by laughing entirely in Nora’s direction.

“All yours. Try the burger too,” he suggested. Tristan didn’t need to be asked. He just pulled the whole plate over, polishing off his skillet of pasta in three more bites.

Jorge eventually excused himself for the washroom and Matt was texting his wife, so Nora sat forward, placed a hand on Tristan’s arm, and spoke quietly.

“How are you doing?” she asked. He’d hardly slowed down since the main meal arrived.

Tristan looked at her with a relaxed, casual smile. “My stomach must be stretched out after yesterday. This is nothing,” he said. He pinched some of Jorge’s fries, grunting appreciatively. “What should I get for dessert?” He nudged the menu at her.

Nora studied him closely. “Want to take a break first?”

Tristan crammed as much of Jorge’s burger into his mouth as he could. “Mmm, maybe not. Wouldn’t want all this to catch up with me.”

Nora rolled her eyes. “It’s going to catch up with you one way or the other,” she pointed out.

“Yah, but maybe I can get dessert in first,” Tristan said, suppressing a wider grin. Nora’s eyes bore into him. He seemed to be avoiding her gaze, pretending he didn’t notice. “Anyway, I missed lunch, with the gym and all. I’m famished.”

“Hmm,” Nora said. “Are you.”

“Skip dessert if you must, but Matty will join me, won’t ya, Matt?”

Matt looked up, distracted. “Hm? Yah, sure, let’s get the spread.”

“Just a normal, big meal,” Tristan said, a little lower. He finished Jorge’s dinner with deliberation, and snagged the last risotto ball Matt had left behind. Then he slowly pushed back from the table, leaning against the wall.

Nora’s eyes widened. He was full, the kind of full that was on clear display. Fuller than yesterday, that was very clear. He released a slow breath as he eased into a slightly reclined sit, a noise that made Nora’s pussy clench. His belly was so round that his belt had slipped under the bulge and his shirt couldn’t cover the real estate. He wasn’t even trying.

Nora was about to launch herself at him, but Jorge returned from the washrooms then. He dropped in his chair and gave Tristan a look of frank appraisal. “Had enough, there, buddy?” he teased, staring at his belly. Tristan grinned and folded his hands over his stomach.

“We’re getting the tempura spread for dessert,” he said. “You in?”

Jorge’s jaw dropped, and he quickly glanced at Nora before looking back at Tristan. “Where the hell are you gonna put it? I already feel like I swallowed a boulder, and I’ve been to the men’s.”

Tristan ran his hands over the curve of his bulging stomach a couple times, working out a belch. “Wherever I need to,” he said. “Cheat day. I gotta take my shot.”

Jorge finally looked at Nora. “He’s definitely one of yours,” he said, shaking his head in wonder.

Nora didn’t trust herself to speak. She wanted so badly to climb into Tristan’s lap and feel the extent of the damage, but all she could do was turn red and nod. When she glanced at Tristan, he quickly looked away, trying to feign casual distraction. He was flushed pink too.

Matt tucked his phone away and flagged the waiter for dessert and another round of drinks. Tristan thumped his belly twice and lurched forward to lean on the table again. Nora watched as he widened his legs and took a deep breath, his belly expanding, hidden by the table. “I can’t wait,” he said enthusiastically. Nora made fists to avoid grabbing him.

The beers were probably the worst. A pint is a lot of liquid, and the guys were into their fourth, at least. Nora had barely had one and she needed a bathroom break, for more reason than one. She touched Tristan’s shoulder and met his eyes awkwardly.

“I need, um,” she gestured beyond him at the restaurant. “To scoot out for a moment.”

The smile that ghosted over Tristan’s face was almost devilish.

“Oh, of course,” he said. He sat straight and scooted over with a grunt, turning and levering himself off the bench belly-first. As soon as he was standing, he took a deep breath, patting his belly apologetically with one hand. “Whoof,” he said. “Sorry. I’m getting to be a big boy.”

Nora noted he didn’t really move far from the table, forcing her to brush by him as she climbed to a stand. He offered a hand like he was being gallant, and deliberately led her so close that his belly pressed into her. She couldn’t keep her squeak-like gasp silent enough. She noted the shiver of goosebumps on his arm before she released his hand and practically fled.

She used the washroom time to steady herself, splashing water on her face and taking a few deep breaths. She could not have an orgasm in front of her friends. She could not mount the man at the table. Even if he was deliberately trying to push her as close to the edge as he could, she had to hang on. She couldn’t decide if she loved or hated what this was doing to her. She was painfully frustrated and as turned on as she had ever been in her whole life.

When she got back to the table, Tristan was still standing there, Leaning casually against a girder and chatting with Jorge about miniature painting as if his belly wasn’t pooched out like a basketball, his shirt riding up. When he spotted Nora’s approach, he smiled and his face softened, until he caught the look still glowing in her eyes and reddened a little.

Before sitting down, she stepped close to him, leaning into his ear with both hands on his belly, relishing in the size and girth of him while she could.

“You had better not get too full to fuck me tonight,” she murmured, trailing her fingers past the hem of his shirt, over his bare underbelly, and taking hold of his straining belt, “I might not accept that as an excuse.”

She pulled back and met his eyes, finding his pupils fully dilated and his lips parted.

“No such thing,” he whispered back, and she felt his cock throb into his belt just under her fingers, as if making his point.

Nora grinned and slid into the booth, Tristan following so close after her that his belly bumped her ass before she sat and he tucked close to her side an instant later. He leaned in to whisper back:

“Get this belt off of me or I will never get the rest of this beer down.”

Nora raised an amused eyebrow and pressed him back by the chest. She glanced apologetically at her friends and then wrestled his belt open, his fly too, then patted his belly as he took a deep breath and reached for his beer. He groaned exaggeratedly and flashed a broad smile, playing up the role of dumb jock at the buffet. Then he emptied the rest of the pint with one hand on his expanding stomach, burping when he finished. “There we go,” he declared.

“You happy with yourself?” Jorge teased her with a knowing smile.

“He was like this when I found him,” she said innocently.

Tristan leaned over with another exaggerated groan and pressed into her with a kiss that quickly got out of hand. Matt and Jorge laughed and took digs at them, but from where she sat, back against the wall with Tristan’s belly spilling into her lap, his hand pressing subtly between her legs, and his kisses coming heavy and desperate, all she could feel was the inevitable explosion she could hardly keep back.

Then dessert.

Nora had misunderstood what Matt had meant by “tempura spread”, thinking he meant something like a sauce. But no, he meant a full spread of tempura-battered treats, a sharing platter, a table’s worth of desserts that clearly exceeded their remaining capacity. Except Nora knew Tristan wouldn’t let anything go uneaten, so she practically became a coach, bullying her friends into eating all they could just to spare her poor Tristan, who was too drunk and horny and manic to think straight.

Even she ate three things, taking a hit for the team, but in the end Tristan demolished the better half of the course. By the end he hardly seemed able to breathe, and Nora gave up subtlety to sidle up next to him and give his belly a firm massage, he groaning with relief, just to free up the space she knew he was gonna fill no matter what. When he finished, he happily slumped into her, head on her shoulder, moaning quietly with a huge grin on his face.

“I’ve got the bill,” she told Jorge and Matt. “You guys go ahead. We might need a minute before we’re going anywhere.”

“Oh my God,”’ Tristan groaned. “This place is the greatest place on earth.” He hiccuped and pressed his hand over hers where his belly stretched the most. “They just need reclining couches, like the Romans.”

“Glad you like the place, Tris, but I am three seconds away from all kinds of things that are illegal to do in restaurants, so maybe you can come here and recline sometime without me…”

“I would never come here without you,” he said vehemently, “nor anywhere else. You stir my appetite, love. I feast for you alone.”

“Tris, can you sit up?”

“Only if it is to roll into an Uber.”

“You need to get me out of here, Tristan. Immediately.”

“Yes, ma’m,” he said, a little breathlessly. He slowly levered himself off the bench then took her hand, waddling out of the pub with his belly preceding him by half a foot.

“Sorry,” he muttered once they were outside and he’d wrapped his arms around her as she slowly rubbed circles around his swollen stomach. “I didn’t mean to get like…this. I just can’t resist. Not with you. Not while—“ He stopped speaking as his whole body shivered with goosebumps when her hands glanced around to the bottom of his belly, massaging the area firmly under his shirt. His eyes closed with a gasp of pleasure.

“Do you regret this, Tristan?” she murmured, voice low since they were huddled so close.

“No,” he breathed.

“Then don’t apologize. If you can’t already tell how pleased I am, you will soon.”

[cook1emadness]

YOUR HONOR!

EHEM EHEM *REMOVING THE CAPTIONS*

I've been starving to see more side/background characters in madness combat 😔

Please! Could you do anything for Jorge and church?

Or the Fanatics Or the Bandits?

Anything you're comfortable with!!

Not sure if it should be romantic or platonic though

OK, JORGE AND CHURCH!! MY DUMB BELOVED IDITOTS!!! GET OVER HERE!!!

This one is going to be romantic ;]

Your honor, are you prepared. . .

Jorge And Church, The G03LM Duo!!!!

Romance~:

Oh boy, these guys, were confident as fuck when they confessed to you, because they believe you 100% say yes.... and you did(if you said no, church would be hurt as fuck and in denial)

Anyway, basically, church and jorge are your bodyguards, but chaotic, making you the most sane person in the world... sort of.

Now, I think jorge and church would always show of their skills. Yes, even their muscles. If you compliment them or praise them a little, they're confidence boost up ALOT.

Being in a relationship with them, you gotta be affectionate. These guys not only love the compliments, but they LOVE hugs you give them even if church denies it. Jorge won't. He knows he's deserves it.

Everyone can tell they're in a relationship with you. Why? Because they always keep showing off their lover, aka you.(sanford and deimos were unamused).

For church, his nicknames for you are mostly pip squeak or mouse, sometimes shortie. Meanwhile, for jorge, it's similar but may call you by your nickname that your parents or family member came up( sorry if your nickname is to embarrassing for you).

Despite being stubborn, they would sometimes listen to you, but the moment your not around, CHAOS!! which is why everyone in the MERC always call you. Your basically like an owner.

Forgot to mention that they get jealous, especially if you happen to know sanford or deimos.

You have to reassure them that you love them and no one else. Why? Because Church and Jorge may or may not try to kill that poor grunt.

The dates are mostly the cafeteria, them taking you to fast food places, even if alotvfucked up shit is going on and most importantly playfights, don't worry they go easy on you and maybe bully you a little.

Oh boy, if a random idiot hurts you, they better start running and trying to hide because good lord, they don't let shit slide. I kid you not, if they can track sanford and deimos. They can find that poor fool instant.

Now jorge and church have the same love language. For both physical touch, both would love to feel your arms trying to wrap around them, they find it funny and they like to have you close to them, it makes them feel better than your safe with them.

If they had a second love language, I think it would be quality time, I can imagine them trying to get your attention while you watch to listen to them either rant or show off, maybe even playfights.

Despite being rude and cocky, they both love you even if you are small or big. They love you... plus, they give a shirt that says, "Size matters." :D

I hope you like this one, I might do bandits or fanatics, but I have other requests to finish, so I hope you have a good day and night

[batsplat]

breaking a blog policy of non-engagement with active discourse unless explicitly asked about it,, below the cut,, I intend this to be a one-off thing, look away

seen some snarking about this article on the race dot com about where marc fits into the current title fight, and specifically this paragraph:

because ofc it's some kind of grievous sin to equate the current two title contenders with the two title contenders in 2015, one of whomst was well past his prime and the other who in many ways had a deeply untidy season. the argument might be that the current spec ducati has a bike advantage over marc, which. you'll never guess how the 2015 yamaha measured up against the 2015 honda. and yeah, it sure is embarrassing how the current title contenders chuck away bucket loads of points through sheer stupidity. after all, when racing in the wet in misano, it's unforgivable to pit at the wrong time and emerge with only one point - why not simply crash and emerge from that weekend with zero points instead? imagine finishing second behind marc in those conditions, when you could instead swap bikes far too late and finish a lowly fifth

it's worth putting that paragraph in context of what the piece was actually saying:

all of this is categorically true. it doesn't mean marc might not still win this year's championship if both jorge and pecco make enough mistakes, but quite obviously those two are closer to the 2015 title contenders than 2017. in the former, marc could not bank on a consistent pace advantage, in the latter he could; this feels like quite a straightforward point to be making. dovi's phillip island stinker did kill his championship momentum - and given the sheer consistency of performances jorge and pecco have put in when it comes to their pace, it would be very surprising to see an equivalent from those two. don't even get me started on whatever the fuck maverick vinales was doing that year after like,, the first five races, which lack of a dominant bike is quite frankly not enough to excuse. the rest of the article assesses marc's chances entirely fairly, essentially expanding on the argument that you just wouldn't expect that kind of consistent performance edge that he would need to overturn the points deficit. (I personally think marc is a little more likely to be a title threat than the author of the article does, though I also don't fundamentally disagree with anything specific being said; mainly I just feel vibes-wise that sprint races have made title fights insanely volatile.) he could still win - but in terms of how he compares to the opposition, there is no argument whatsoever to be made that this is not closer to 2015 than 2017. even if you believe this is only due to bike difference, in which case I think you are possibly giving 2017 dovi and vinales a little too much credit, the points raised in the article still stand up to scrutiny

it is perhaps inevitable that people will deify the greats of the past - even more so if they dislike the top riders of the present and feel that they are undeserving of their current success. it does, however, seem to come along with a skewed understanding of the actual greats in question, of where they were strong and where they faltered. valentino and lorenzo had two title fights, both of which were error-strewn affairs and hardly their best seasons. sprints have helped further distort perceptions of how error-prone these current riders really are, because at the end of the day neither martin nor pecco are on course for a radically different error rate than the title contenders in 2009. lorenzo lost his head in jerez when he was the pre-race favourite and ended up crashing trying to overcompensate for his surprisingly poor pace, valentino had an absolute howler at le mans that makes misano this year from martin look like a paragon of good decision-making and composure under pressure, jorge practically handed the championship to valentino with back-to-back dnf's at donington and brno, valentino incidentally also crashed at donington and got extremely lucky to have a bike that was still rideable to fifth, then proceeded to just chuck it for absolutely no reason at indy with a mistake that was so obviously stupid and needless he showed up to misano with a donkey helmet. valentino followed up misano with a poor fourth in estoril because he got lost with the set-up that weekend - and buddy, if you think the gp24 bike advantage is bad, let me tell you a story about how yamaha/ducati/honda were doing back in the day compared to the field. fourth might as well have been last. (I don't love single manufacturer domination either, but let's not pretend like the gaps between bikes aren't way, way, way smaller than they were in '09.) then jorge, with momentum and opportunity on his side, gets so spooked by valentino's pace in practise he bins it on the very first lap of phillip island, essentially ending the championship fight then and there. neither of them deliver a particularly dignified performance in sepang. during this title fight, there were three instances of crashing out of the lead and one from a very close second. jorge martin and pecco bagnaia eat your hearts out

and 2015? the season that was actually being referenced in the championship? valentino was only in that championship fight due to his relentless consistency, a handful of starring performances and an ability to not completely fuck it when a few rain drops started falling. his pace was flat-out not good enough to be a title contender - if anything, on raw pace he was more competitive for a big chunk of 2016 than he had been the year before. he was qualifying abysmally in an era where the gaps between bikes were considerably larger, reflecting a far poorer performance than equivalent grid positions would nowadays, and certainly would have nothing to counter the consistency in qualifying the two title contenders this year have demonstrated. jorge had to work hard to come as close to losing that championship as he did, going through a bizarre and borderline embarrassing set of helmet visor issues early on in the season that he should never have allowed to happen. he was peak metronome that year, able to dominate and win from the front but otherwise rife with limitations, repeatedly performing poorly when he was put ever so slightly off-balance. in many ways, he got very lucky to not be penalised more for his horrendous silverstone performance. he was also helped by the gap between the factory yamahas and hondas to the field being so large, because otherwise some of his inconsistency would have cost him a hell of a lot more. both of their seasons had laughably obvious flaws that just about managed to offset each other's enough to make a title decider possible - but if you ever so slightly change the formula, if the qualifying format had still been different or the bike disparities larger or smaller or any of that, it would have probably tipped it quite strongly one way or the other. a battle of the titans it was not

none of this is to say that valentino or jorge are shit riders, or that marc is a fraud for letting himself be so thoroughly beaten by them in 2015 on what was ultimately still a competitive bike. at a certain point, however, you are comparing the current athletes with versions of the past greats who quite frankly did not exist 90% of the time. if you are sufficiently motivated, you can come up with pretty decent slander for anyone. it is also presenting an idealised version of the sport in the past that, again, did not exist. while the gp24's advantage over the field is substantial, if we are talking in terms of raw lap times, it is substantially less so than the gap the top few factory teams had in the past. the aliens did not dominate from 2007 to 2015 to the extent that they did because they were just so brilliant - they were performing at a high level, yes, but also nobody else really stood a chance. as hard as it may be to accept, when you have riders who so consistently have a pace advantage as pecco and martin do, including over the fellow riders on the same machinery, it is possible they may simply be doing an actual good job. and the more pecco adds to his resume, the more difficult it will become to not consider him in the same tier of rider as at least some of the aliens. yes, I am talking about lorenzo here - a man who incidentally did not convincingly pass the 'only good with one manufacturer' test that's already being dangled in front of pecco. if we really want to go into the weeds, it's worth pointing out that pecco's luck has also not been particularly fantastic this year, from mechanical gremlins at the le mans sprint to being wiped out by binder at the jerez sprint to the qualifying position at aragon working against him and losing out quite severely in what are at worst 60:40 racing incidents twice this season - sometimes, you do get punished a lot for relatively minor missteps. so yeah, if you want to compare the current trio of title contenders with anyone, then 2015 feels as good a place as any. sometimes the greats of the past did suck, idk what to tell you. they would be a hell of a lot more boring if they hadn't

[accirax]

Sooo, after several months of avoiding it in my vid recommendations, I finally decided to go see what Epic: The Musical is all about. And as embarrassing it is to admit, I'm kinda hooked right now. 😅 (I'm currently going through this playlist of various people's animatic interpretations presenting all the songs in order, and I'm only halfway through rn)

Event though I know and care very little about Greek mythology, I gotta give credit to talent where it's due, and Jorge Rivera-Herrans has *definitely* earned it from me. His musical retelling of the stories so far are PHENOMENAL! 😊 I can't even decide on a favourite song 'cause they're all really good! But some are definitely higher up there than others, and the one I'm currently hooked on is "Ruthlessness". So I just wanna throw in a couple of the animatics artists have done for it:

https://youtu.be/0lsYf_0UGLE?si=Zwdr2dLDbtAOMW9L

https://youtu.be/skVSbITX4kY?si=mVjADvKGnnPiqv_N

https://youtu.be/WOgxiS33tME?si=ZE2pfBkSdPREwpRh

The other two are pretty good but AnniFlamma's version will forever reign as #1 for me~ 😄 The way they drew/designed Poseidon is just so hot- I-I mean, stunning- I mean, badass- I mean- .... He's hot. 😳

i know Epic: the Musical! some of my friends forced me to watch it a couple of days before you sent in this ask. i can't find the specific animatic compilation video they showed me, but it had the third version of Ruthlessness in it. i remember that super detailed water animation... that's probably still my favorite, but i can't deny that that horse with human teeth is TERRIFYING, and that gigi's work is peak as always. overall, you have great taste in terms of choosing animatics with backgrounds and ample breakdowns :)

seems we're coming at this from different angles, though. i was pretty into greek mythology as a kid, and i had to read the Odyssey in my sophomore year of high school. therefore, i already knew the basic plot of the musical before i ever heard it, edits they made to the plot notwithstanding. i think i said out loud, "woo, Telemachus time~!" when he first appeared on screen, which is not something you say if you don't already know the story.

still, as both a greek mythology fan and a storyboard artist, i'm glad there's a series out there that's both introducing folks to the Odyssey and giving a bunch of artists an entry point into making animatics. perhaps i'll meet some of these people out in the industry someday. said friend who made me watch Epic has been trying to convince me to board one of the songs myself, but we'll see if that actually comes to pass.

(if i did, i guess it would probably be God Games, as that's the song i remember liking the most. then again, part of the reason why i liked it was because of the accompanying high-octane fight sequences, which are also really difficult and time consuming to board.)

Another quick Epic mention here just to say that I really *really* wanna see somebody purchase an Aiden & Ally double greeting so they can duet this part of "Done For". With how well they can both sing I just know the combination would be Magical~! 💫🌟🌠😊 (Should probably clarify tho, I think this short was initially a little snippet/teaser before the official release of the Circe Saga, so the lyrics in the finished product are slightest different)

Aiden would be a really good Odysseus, honestly. i don't know about Ally, but i suspect that you won't have to wait too long until someone makes Aiden sing Epic. or, maybe Viester will even just choose to do it himself, who knows.

[meetmyothersouls]

When is the next part of bty coming out?

Jonah’s POV

After the events of tonight, I’m half expecting y/n to try and slide back into the floor, but she doesn’t. She’s a little embarrassed but I am trying so hard not to pin her down to the bed and make love to her over and over. Those little sounds she makes…dammit they drive me crazy. But I can’t mess this up, so when she lays down and flips on her side, her back to me, I let her be. She’s cracking and I’m praying the more she cracks the more her memory might as well.

I lay on my back and attempt sleep, but it never comes. Y/n’s deep and steady breathing tells me she’s long gone. Good. I reach my hand out and put it on her shoulder and gently run it down the length of her body. She’s heavenly. And she’s mine, whether or not she’s accepted it yet. I’m not giving her up and definitely not to Jorge.

My mind goes back to the story I shared with y/n about how we met, and I recall in crystal clear detail those few weeks in New York and how Jorge had her first. I climb out of bed, and look out the window of our hotel. The snow plows have not made their way down here yet so any plans of meeting Jorge and Haven at the cabin tomorrow are out the window. I look back over and y/n is still heavily asleep. I decide to make my way down to the library.

It takes me a bit, but I find it and place myself in a small desk in the very back. I don’t know why I came down here but I find a notebook and almost instinctively pull it out. There’s a pen already inside of it. So I write what’s on my mind. I write about that day and the weeks that followed.

Back to You

Chapter 9.5

2015

“Let’s go, mate!” Jorge yelled as I fell behind a group of people in a busy street in New York City. It was crowded, a lot more than I remember it being the last time my family and I took a trip to New York. Maybe it was because it was “spring break” or maybe it was because it’s New York. I’m tall enough to see over the crowd in front of me and and I caught Jorge turning the corner like he knows the terrain well enough.

I stopped to try and let the crowd pass, but as I moved to the side, my phone slipped out of my hand and smacked onto the concrete. I rolled my eyes, dreading to see the damage. None. Thank fuck. I made a move to stand back up but don’t even make it all the way when someone slammed directly into the front of my body. The impact of this persons body was enough to cause me to stumble back into several people, one of whom shoved me to the side. I was finally out of the way of foot traffic and caught a glimpse of the woman who ran into me.

She was still on the ground, her long hair touching the concrete as she picked up loose papers that fell out of a folder. She hadn’t looked at me yet but I stood there staring until she did. I smiled at her but got a glare back. And what a gorgeous, heart stopping glare it was.

“A little help?” She shouted over the new crowd of people stepping on her papers and kicking her cup of coffee.

I moved through bodies and made my way to her, kneeling down to help her pick up the now totally destroyed papers.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, “I-”

“What the fuck were you doing?!” She yelled back at me.

“I-”

“Who the fuck kneels down in middle of the sidewalk in New York City?” She looked down at her watch. “Fuck I’m so screwed.”

“I dropped my phone,” I said, like a total idiot.

“Huh?” She had to look up at me even as we were both kneeling.

“That’s why I was bent over.”

“Whatever,” she rolled her eyes, scraping up a piece of paper and attempting to wipe off the coffee that coated it.

I handed the last paper over to her as we both stood up. “I hope these weren’t too important.”

She yanked it from me, tearing it in the process. “They were.” She shoved past me and I moved my body to avoid another body slam.

“I never caught your name!”

In response she flipped me her middle finger without even turning around.

We got to where we were staying after a 15 minute walk. It was a four bedroom flat decorated quite nicely. It was clean, but you could tell it’s well loved and lived in.

“Hi!” A girl maybe about 22 years old pops out from the hallway and greets us. “My names Haven! We’re super excited to host you guys for your stay in America!”

Jorge and I each shook her hand. And she began showing us around. For a flat, it’s quite roomy surely she has a roommate.

“Is it just you who lives here?” I asked.

“My sister lives with me. She’ll be back tonight she has an important meeting at work she’s been stressing about. She’s pretty cool but spends most of her time reading or writing. Or somehow doing both. And here we are,” Haven said as she stopped in the hall. “These are our two spare bedrooms you guys pick which one you’d like. Make yourself at home! I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything!”

I smiled and nodded, still confused as to how this whole “hosting” situation worked. Almost like we were exchange students without the schooling. Jorge threw is bags onto the bed in one room, which left me with the other one. I tossed my bags into my room and caught a glimpse through the cracked door of the room next to mine. Curiosity getting the better of me, I nudged it open.

One wall was filled entire with tall black bookcases each one holding at least 100 books mainly thriller, horror and psychological. The last one housed books involving journalism and writing. The bed, also black, was still unmade and other than a few articles of clothing the floor was clean. I walked over to the desk and saw an open Mac computer, an old Starbucks cup with a name I couldn’t quite read scrawled onto the side. To the left of the computer was a picture frame holding a photo of two girls. Without thinking I grab the photo. One of the girls is Haven smiling widely next to none other than the girl from the street. I chuckled to myself. What were the odds?

“This is y/n’s room,” Haven said, standing in the doorway. “Don’t worry I won’t tell her you were in here. She’d lose her shit.”

“She already lost in on me earlier today,” I said putting the frame down.

“No way? You met her already?”

“Sort of. She was..”

“Mean?”

“I wouldn’t say-”

“No you can say it. She’s mean. Or..well she can be mean. Life hasn’t been too fair to her recently and she stopped taking her anxiety medication. It’s been rough. I’m sure she’ll warm up to you though.”

I spent most of that evening in my room, mainly out of sheer anxiety of y/n coming home and seeing the guy who wrecked her papers for her important meeting. But there was also a strange excitement I couldn’t place. Even though she was angry and me the entire time, I was enamored by her.

But she never came in. I fell asleep around 9pm, the jet lag of it all getting to me. But a sound in the early morning hours woke me from my sleep. The door slammed and I heard what sounded like keys drop to the floor.

A frustrated groan and a thump on the wall close to my door.

“Fuckkk,” I heard a girls voice slur.

She used the wall for leverage helping her into her room and then the door next to mine slammed shut. Moments later it opened and I heard unsteady foot steps quickly make their way to the bathroom. Then that door slammed. It was quiet for a moment followed by a series of loud crashes. I jumped up from my bed and made my way to the door. Do I go check on her?

I took a few moments to think on it then ultimately decided to see if she was okay. The bathroom door was still shut but I could see the light shining from underneath the door. I knocked on it.

Nothing.

I knocked again.

When I was greeted with no answer my hand went to the door knob. I didn’t even get a chance to twist before it swung open.

She was drunk. Shit faced. Her hair was a mess, her eyeliner and mascara was smeared all over her face, and running like she had been crying. Even then she was still beautiful.

“Whoa,” she said as she swayed in the door way, still not making eye contact with me. She used the door frame for support and finally looked up at me. She stared at me for a few long moments when the realization hit.

“What the FUCK?!”

“I wanted to see if you were okay!” I put my hands up.

“How the fuck did you get in my apartment!?” She was now armed with a can of air freshener pointing it in my face.

Jorge and Haven’s door swung open.

“We’re staying here!”

“We!?” She screamed. “Haven?!”

“Everyone calm down!” Haven yelled as she put her body in between mine and y/n’s. “Y/n, drop the febreeze!”

“What the fuck is going on!”

“I told you, we were going to be hosting a few guys from England while they were on holiday.”

“Holiday?” Y/n scoffed and stumbled. “There’s no holidays coming up.”

“They’re on vacation. Y/n, are you drunk?” Haven questioned.

“Yes!”

I couldn’t help but smile.

“It’s not funny!” Y/n, said and I did my best to drop it. “You’re the reason I got fired!”

“Wait what?” I said, now more concerned.

“You got fired?!” Haven said. “And Jonah caused it?”

“Jonah! That’s your name! Well Jonah, thanks to you and our little run in on the street today, I was 45 minutes late for my meeting and had no papers to present and I got fired! Everyone say thank you to Jonah!”

I stood there dumbfounded. Jorge started laughing.

“You think it’s funny?” Y/n said, now heading over to Jorge.

“Kinda,” Jorge said.

Y/n stood there, staring at Jorge and he stared back. I knew that look Jorge was giving her and I instantly felt possessive over her even though I had no right to be. And she definitely wouldn’t have anything to do with me now that I got her fired.

“Can we just…start from the beginning here? What happened?” Haven said, pulling y/n into the living room.

Y/n flopped onto the couch her long, messy hair fluttering around her.

“I was late for work.”

“You’re always late,” Haven pointed out.

“Not the point! I was super late for work. And this dude was bent over on the sidewalk while I was running to work. And I slammed right into him when he stood up.”

“I dropped my phone.”

Y/n shot me a similar glare from this morning.

“My coffee fell and-”

“You were late and still stopped for coffee?”

“Haven!”

Haven raised her hands defensively.

“My coffee fell and all my papers I stayed up all night preparing were everywhere covered in coffee and I just…I didn’t have anything to present at the meeting because I left my fucking laptop at home and I got FIRED!”

We were all silent. I pretended not to notice Jorge’s hand go to y/n’s back. When she didn’t protest, he sat down next her and she leaned into him.

“I’m so sorry, y/n.”

“Let me help you to bed,” Jorge said gently to y/n. I fought the urge not to punch him in the throat. Jorge supported y/n as he walked with her to her room and shut the door.

I turn my attention back to Haven. “Maybe we should get a hotel?” I asked.

“No! No don’t worry, it’s all going to be okay. It’ll blow over.”

“She got fired though.”

“Seriously she’s got dozens of journalism jobs lined up. She’s one of the best in the state. She was going to get fired from this one anyway. Her attendance was terrible. Seriously don’t worry about. Go back to bed she’ll be fine in the morning.”

But the next morning she was gone and so was Jorge. They came back together around dinner time laughing, Jorge’s arm around y/n as she hugged him.

“You two are getting on well,” I said, trying my best not to sound bitter.

“I showed Jorge the Empire State Building,” y/n said.

“You should have come, Jonah,” Jorge said, knowing that was our plan originally.

“Next time.”

That wasn’t their first outing, either by the end of the first week, Jorge and y/n had spent most of their time together. I wasn’t surprised when the second week followed a similar path.

I tagged a long on some of the events, but to avoid looking and feeling like a third wheel, I did most of these things by myself.

I couldn’t even be mad at y/n, I fucked up. I didn’t blame her for not taking a liking to me. I was mad at Jorge for abandoning me.

The end of our holiday came quickly, I started packing my bags the night before, always waiting until the last minute, when I heard shouting coming from y/n’s room, followed by Jorge’s door slamming shut. I would have let it go, but I heard crying, and that I couldn’t ignore.

I opened my door to find y/n’s open. I stood in the door way and knocked lightly on her door.

“Hey.”

She looked up at me with bloodshot eyes and a bright pink nose. She sniffled and wiped her eyes quickly as if embarrassed to be seen crying.

“You okay?”

“Do I look okay?” She asked, her nose stuffy.

“Mind if I ask what happened?”

“Your friend is a major asshole.”

“Jorge? Yeah tell me about it.” I had to keep this going. She was actually talking to me. “Need me to beat him up for you?

She laughed. Laughed.

“Because I will,” I added.

“No you won’t,” she smiled.

“No really I would.”

“That’d be great yeah.” Y/n wiped her nose with the sleeve of her shirt. She’s silent for a moment and then sighed her eyes filling with tears again. “I should apologize to you.”

“Please don’t. I royally fucked up. I got you fired.”

“I was on the way out anyway, being 45 minutes late was the icing on the cake for them. But I was such a bitch to you. I’m sorry, Jonah.”

My name on her lips made my heart fall into my stomach. I couldn’t believe I was leaving the next day and I finally got her to talk to me. I had to make this work.

“Well maybe you can make it up to me,” I said.

“Okay,” she smiled, “how?”

“Let me take you out to dinner.”

“Like a date?”

“Why not?”

She was silent, almost thinking of a reason to say no. “Don’t you have to catch a plane early tomorrow.”

“That’s tomorrow.”

She bit her lip. “It’s 9:30.”

“So it is.”

She shook her head and flipped her hair. “Let me get dressed.”

An hour later we were seated at a pizza place 15 minutes from her apartment. We talked. Actually talked. About everything. She told me how she hates taxis and loves reading. And I told her how passionate I am about ice cream and how I hate public speaking even though I’m going to school for acting. She talked to me about her depression and her anxieties and I listened. And I think she needed that.

We stayed in the restaurant until they kicked us out. Then we walked. She sighed as we came up to a bench. She sat down and looked up at the moon.

“What’s wrong?” I asked her.

“I wish I would have spent these last two weeks with you instead of Jorge.”

“Me too,” I admitted to her.

“I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t apologize to me anymore. It’s not allowed. You are banned from apologizing,” I smiled as I sat down next to her. She turned her body to face me and I’m not sure if she meant to do it but when she put her hand on top of mine I grabbed it and held it.

She smiled. “I’m…..”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Soooorrr-”

“Y/n,” I warned.

She almost finished her apology but I placed my lips on hers, preventing her from doing so. Gently, her lips fell into a rhythm with mine and we kissed, slowly picking up speed as it went on. We could have sat there for hours kissing but when the sprinklers came on, we jumped up. Soaked, we ran back to her apartment, kissing on and off the entire way.

She shut the door softly as to not wake Jorge or Haven, and pulled me by my hand into her room. She pulled off my wet shirt and I helped her out of hers.

“I’m cold,” she said and walked over to her bed. She slid over on the bed and reached out for me. I climbed into her bed with her and she kissed me again. Kissing led to touching, our touching led to exploring until we found ourselves gloriously wrapped up in each other. I can safely say that anything before that was just sex. This was different.

I’m not sure what time it was before we fell asleep, but the last thing she said to me was, “I don’t want you to go.”

So I didn’t.

I heard my alarms go off.

I heard Jorge pounding on the door. Then I heard him leave. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t leave her.

She woke up and to me awake next to her, my hand lightly stroking her body. And she smiled at me. And I knew right then and there that I was going to spend the rest of my life with her.

Tags: @danielabetancourth @luna2034 @waqndamaximoffbae @twinkledinkleg-blog @justagirlwholovedtoread @nonsensical-nonsence @paramorelvrr @thedonswife13 @miniemonie2001 1 1 @jonahhauer-kingg @crazyyynyyyy

[idealisticrealism]

TCL 3x05 thoughts

The main things:

This ep starts literally immediately after last ep ended, and then takes place over 2 full days

Looks like Thony and Jorge swapped numbers at some point lol; I guess Dante got tired of being the go-between haha. But for a guy that was so concerned yesterday about Thony missing her interview, he sure seems chill about pulling her away today… only to have nothing for her but an unintentionally murdered guy and an uncomfortable fight with his sister lol. That’s a bit embarrassing for you there, Jorge! I like that he later ended the business call about Nadia’s payout to be able to answer her, and then followed through on her request to talk to Ramona on her behalf. And then she shows up at his office– did she google him or did he actually tell her where to find him??-- and tries to convince him to nullify the Amber Alert, and ngl I enjoy the fact that much of their dynamic so far is basically Thony either ordering or begging him to do something, and him being like “No” and making some mocking remark to her about it… and then later doing exactly what she asked/suggested lol. Thony (and especially the potent combination of Thony and Luca) really does have some kind of magic power over the men of this family… though Arman seemed to accept it far more quickly and eagerly than Jorge, who’s still half-heartedly trying to resist haha. But then again, the man still showed up at her court hearing and not only provided the exact thing she asked for, but he also stayed to see the outcome and her reaction?? Like I’m absolutely hearing Nadia’s words to Arman rn: “You love the way she looks at you when you do these things for her. When you are her hero”... Jorge got his first real taste of that during the last ep, and looks like he already wants more haha

Thony and Ramona are clashing more and more which is potentially going to be very problematic for Thony when they lose Arman and she is no longer shielded by her connection to him… but I guess that’s when Jorge’s growing regard for her is going to come into play, and create an interesting divide with the siblings…

Poor Thony reliving the trauma of losing Luca, only even more terrifying this time because instead of Marco (who sucked but was at least relatively safe), he could be with someone who intends to hurt him. “We’ve been down this road before” yeah in more ways than one

“You and Armando will work together, so when I’m gone…(etc)” okay this is a very odd statement for a 50-something to make??? And she later says something about bringing Arman home ‘while there’s still time’-- time for him, or her?? Like is Ramona secretly dying and that’s why she’s so determined to get Arman back, so Jorge will still have family watching over him? Surely the writers wouldn’t use a plotline like that though, not given how we lost Adan…….? 

Okay let’s all pretend that we believe that a 6 year old kid, who had barely experienced the world outside his own bedroom before a few months ago, managed to navigate the streets of a major city on foot to a location that’s a 10 minute drive away, and then also somehow snuck into a large public facility undetected and didn't raise red flags as an unaccompanied kid hanging there for hours lol

Ugh so much love for the courtroom scene and the fam all giving their testimony. I love that they were all clearly ready to commit perjury if needed (eg by covering up Thony’s shady activities if asked about it) and that they also said such beautiful, heartfelt things, because god did Thony need to hear those things. After everything she has gone through, and everything that her actions to protect Luca put the rest of the family through, she’d clearly started to question (like we saw in the kitchen earlier with Fi)  whether she is actually truly good– a good mother, a good family member, and a good person in general– or if she only brings pain to those around her.  The forgiveness and support of her family doesn’t erase what she’s done, but it is going to be a huge part of how she moves forward and grows as a person, and I’m really looking forward to seeing more of that journey.

I also loved that the people trying to take Luca away were two crusty old guys, while Thony’s lawyer (who looked like she was trying not to cry when Thony did her big speech), and the judge, and of course Susan (who, while on the CPS side, is actually fairly impartial and in some ways shows a lot of regard for Thony, and didn’t raise an objection even though she could have) are all women. It feels like a subtle nod to the themes of both motherhood and women supporting other women in this show, and that’s really cool. 

Other stuff:

Congrats to Fi for finally getting to have her own Traumatised Showering Scene haha, I think Thony has had at least 2 or 3 by this point. But I did feel for Fi and Chris that they barely even got to begin to unpack what happened to them because things were just immediately about Luca. Also ngl that music/voiceover combo right at the start with the abrupt fadeout was a bit weird lol

“Sometimes I wish I was a turtle, so I could hide in my shell” #relatable

Love the sweet JD/Fi stuff, though this dude needs to recognise his place in the family hierarchy and not make calls that aren’t his to make lol. Leave the dealing with big important stuff to the women, buddy, you’re out of your depth!  

Speaking of dudes messing things up… seriously Dante? Accidentally killing the best lead your bosses have to getting their relative back? That’s embarrassingly amateurish. Unless there’s actually more going on here than we realise, and he did it deliberately to keep the guy from talking??

Ok seriously how many doors lead outside from Luca’s room?? I know it’s a converted sun-room and not a proper bedroom, but still, they should at least be locked if not also securely barricaded. Geez.

Ah the many facets of Jorge, comfortable in a homeless camp and while torturing a guy in a warehouse, but also in a courtroom and a fancy corner office, and also while kneeling in a kitchen doorway to earnestly accept a gift of a cupcake from a 5 year old lol

Thony always tells Luca she’s never going to let anything bad happen to him… but uhhh, a little too late there, don’t you think Thony? Poor kid has been through more ‘bad things’ than most adults, and most of them have happened within the last 6 months lol

Lol at Thony trying to tell the officer to drop the charges against Dante and he’s just like ‘nope’ haha. I bet she really misses her surgeon days when she could just give orders and people would follow them without question

No Nadia this week! Honestly it felt weird not to see her; it really feels like she is part of the family now, and I’m looking forward to more of her and Thony working together

Goddamn I really gotta learn Spanish.

[maze-mind]

[A little mini-short of Safe Haven Thominho, Minho reluctantly allowing Thomas to brush his hair]

[Because I am in love with it ♡]

𖣔✵𖣔✵𖣔✵𖣔

𝑨 𝒔𝒐𝒇𝒕 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒖𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒖𝒏𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒃𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒅 𝒂 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑺𝒂𝒇𝒆 𝑯𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒏. It was a rare morning when Minho didn't wake Thomas up for running— instead, he slept in. Thomas earlier had quaked with sleepiness, confused on why he wasn't woken up at dawn.

Thomas slyly slipped off to the hut where Minho was sleeping. When they first got to the Safe Haven, he insisted on sleeping in the same hut as Minho— only to find out that the other boy snored constantly, preventing him from getting sleep.

The door of the hut creaked open, and Thomas took time to shut it behind him. His eyes fluttered in surprise when they landed on a sleeping Minho, with fuzzy hair and drool passing his parted lips. A bit of red crept onto one of Thomas's cheeks, and he reminded himself that he had seen Minho like this several times before.

Thomas debated waking Minho up shortly but then decided on it. He shifted and laid down with Minho, wrapping his arms around the Asian boy's waist area. Thomas stared up outside, then looked back down at his boyfriend. His heart fluttered, and he smiled softly.

Soon enough— after a while of Thomas nervously cuddling his boyfriend— Minho woke up. He let out a choked yawn and rolled over to Thomas. An affectionate hum calmed Thomas, and he brushed his nose to meet Minho.

Minho's voice cracked for a short while, and he murmured, "Why are you in my bed? I didn't give you permission—" he was cut off by Thomas giving him a short kiss, then laying across him.

Thomas and Minho both gave gentle praise to each other, with Thomas having his arms and legs wrapped around Minho. Minho rolled his eyes affectionately as he felt Thomas's weight. Thomas only responded by softly grinning.

Minho soon yet begrudgingly got up, looking for the clothes that he had set out previously the other morning. Thomas huffed in annoyance and pouted slightly as he lay on the bed alone.

Minho then sighed and blinked as he tried to flatten his tangled hair. His eyes lit with annoyance as he could separate the strands, and he unsurely turned to Thomas. "Hey, Thomas," he muttered, grabbing a brush, "can you uh.. do my hair? At least decently?"

Thomas's eyebrows raised in surprise, but he quickly nodded and took the hairbrush from Minho. He tilted his head. "Where are you going to sit? On the bed? Ground?"

Not speaking a word, Minho answered by sitting with his legs crossed on the side of the bed. His face was flushed pale; he was embarrassed to ask for help, especially with something like brushing his hair. Normally, he would let Jorge or someone else other than Thomas do it. The reason was that Minho didn't really like him doing it. Though, he never even let Thomas try.

The brunet gripped the brush and slowly ran it down Minho's hair. Some knots made him pull harder on the brush and hiss with effort. Minho gasped in pain and dug his fingers into the bedsheets heavily.

"Well," Thomas murmured, "That's not working."

Minho rolled his eyes. "And this is why I don't let you do my hair."

Thomas snorted at that and took a look at the knots. He frowned. "You really need to brush your hair more."

Minho scoffed. "It's only been a few days. I keep forgetting, and people mostly said no to brushing my hair, so.."

Thomas only responded by trying to get the brush through the tangled strands once again, but stopped when he saw Minho whimper in pain. He frowned.

"Here. Idea."

Thomas gave Minho his hand. Minho, at first, looked back at Thomas confused— but then he intertwined his fingers with Thomas's. As Thomas brushed, Minho cringed and squeezed on one of Thomas's fingers.

Thomas then frowned when Minho spoke. "Still hurts—"

Thomas rolled his eyes and got Minho up. He stood with his boyfriend and wrapped Minho's arms around him. Minho looked confused again until his eyes softened, and he kept his arms wrapped around Thomas. His breathed heaved when Thomas started to brush his hair again, but he nuzzled his face into Thomas's neck and squeezed him slightly.

"This hurts."

"I know Minnie."

Minho's face reddened. "Don't call me that! I've told you!"

Thomas finished with the last strand shortly after, and Minho huffed. "I guess you aren't that bad at it."

Thomas smiled. "Can I do it more often?"

Minho only glared at him and opened the hut door. "Wouldn't dream of it. After you."

[42bakery]

Pecco and Jorge are embarrassing me atp. I have been making my hubby watch every motogp session to prove that motogp is the superior sport not f1 but they don’t want to win the championship and he is laughing at them, at least this time I let him sleep because the sprint was at 5 AM so he didn’t want to kill me for waking us up in the dead of night just so we can see who will fuck up

Hi there anon 👋👋👋👋

Well done for pushing your hubby into MotoGP, but he's missing the most important thing, who's going to screw more?

MotoGP has always been about who is more consistent, and that includes who is the one who crashes the least, and who is in the front the most. in 2020, Joan Mir won the championship, and he wasn't the fastest one , or the one with more wins or podiums. Quartararo and Rins beat him at that. Joan simply managed to score points nearly every weekend. In fact, he only won one race. And this reminded me that Emilio Alzamora, who used to be the Marquez and Quartararo's manager won the championship without a win.

But this year is all about which Ducati will win, and I think this will get me killed, but none of them are mentally strong for that. They are used to pressure another rider, but having the pressure to be in the front or pretty close is what's killing them. One second of doubt and pam they are in the floor.

They are also idiots who can't understand why they crashes, even if they themself say it. Like at some point Martín said I was a bit more open and I crashed, but I don't understand why or Bagnaia who said he hit the breaks 18 metres early, but he doesn't understand why he crashed.

So yes this is a championship that they might lose against Marc or Enea because they are idiots. I'm personally rotting for Martín (and yes I know he's a red flag, but so does Bagnaia) because I want the number 1 in Aprilia to show a big middle finger, but at this rate my money is on Marc

[general-yasur]

Lloyd’s Movie-Perfect Surprise

The snow blew outside as the Ninja hung their holiday decorations. Lloyd was especially concentrated, and technically breaking the rules by using his powers but he was running out of time— at least that’s what he told himself. He began mumbling his frustrations as his energy infused hands twitched.

“You look like you’re about to shit yourself.”

Kai stood next to him, startling Lloyd. His powers vanished and his agitation rose.

“Kai! You messed me up! I’m trying to—“

The brothers looked up, seeing the now hung mistletoe. Being spooked must’ve put it into place.

“As per usual, my presence is everyone’s lucky charm. You’re welcome.” Kai bloated, proud from completing a task he had little part in. Lloyd was less than amused and rolled his eyes, “Whatever.”

Jay snickered loudly near the corner with Zane behind him untangling the lights wrapped around himself and Jay.

“What’s so funny?” Lloyd was at a loss, but Jay laughed at everything that crossed his path.

“Both of you are under the mistletoe!”

Lloyd finally understood what Jay was trying to imply, and he thought it ridiculous.

“It doesn’t count.”

“It does! Wouldn’t you say, Zane?” Jay said cheekily. Zane paused, scanning Lloyd and Kai, before he smirked devilishly.

“Of course it counts.”

Lloyd folded his arms, glaring at Zane before looking to Kai for reassurance— but much to his dismay Kai smiled and winked at him.

“No way! This is for one person and that’s not you—“

Kai leaped on the blonde, wrapping his arm around Lloyds neck, putting him into a choke hold. Lloyd struggled, trying to pry away from his brother. Jay and Zane stood there, watching them wrestle under the mistletoe.

“This is— for my boyfriend! Get— I’ll bite you!”

“Give your bro a smooch!”

“Ew!” Lloyd opened his mouth and placed his small fangs against Kai’s arm, silently threatening to bite him, but they both knew Lloyd wouldn’t follow through.

“Fine! Then I’ll have to just steal one.” Kai pulled Lloyds beanie off and gave him a big smooch on the forehead before letting go. Kai smiled, throwing Lloyds beanie in his face.

“You’re so lame.”

“But you love me.” Kai grabbed a box from the hallway, before entering the living room with the others.

Lloyd thought to chase them to stop Jay from telling everyone, but he let it go. He smiled instead, rubbing his forehead with his sleeve.

His smile faded as he gazed at the ceiling, the mistletoe was crooked. Lloyd could’ve left it, but he wanted his surprise to be nothing short of perfect, so he began to readjust it with his powers.

“I get the feeling you’re hiding from me.”

Lloyd jumped, startled again, and the mistletoe fell to the ground. Right in between him and Jorge. Lloyd froze, red as a tomato, watching Jorge stare at the mistletoe on the ground.

Jorge turned to Lloyd, and then glanced behind him. Jay’s voice echoed from the living room.

“Is this why—“

How embarrassing! Lloyd wasn’t going to let him hear that. He wrapped the mistletoe in an energy shield and rose it above Jorge, before leaping onto him and wrapping his legs around him.

“Don’t listen to that—“

Before Jorge could even react, Lloyd planted his lips on his boyfriend. Jorge’s eyes closed after the initial shock, and he held Lloyd in his arms.

“You do know you’re supposed to cover my ears, not my lips, right?”

It took a moment for Lloyd to realize what he’d done. His palms were sweaty and his heart raced. He was so focused on getting that perfect kiss from the holiday movies he went right for the lips.

“Uh- whoops?“

“But do it again— it might work this time.”

Lloyd smiled, he loved when Jorge played along. He wrapped his free arm around his lover’s neck. Gazing into his bright eyes and falling down to his lips. Lloyd kissed him again, and it was even better than the movies.

“Ew!” Kai gagged, as the other ninja peaked into the hallway.

Okay maybe not holiday movie perfect, but it was perfect for Lloyd.

[xxmyhomexx]

W: TIME CATCHER: Worth

I haven't playes the story, but I've watched other people play it, and Shen intrigues me. I have a thing for an age-gap, grumpy rugged looking men whose hearts can be tamed, and...BOOM! Idea!

This has no connection to the game. Warning: intended for older readers!

~~~

The party was in full swing as Nova and her friends celebrated their victory against the Church. The ban and restrictions for Others had been lifted, allowing magic-users and other supernatural beings to live in harmony. Nova cheered with her loved ones as they took sips of champagne, toasting to a new day where they no longer had to hide their identities or their powers.

"Cheers to new beginnings," Vesper proclaimes.

"To new life," Nova tossed back her glass.

"TO LIFE!" Onyx laughed, albeit a bit too bubbly from the glassy look in her eye. She yelped when she tripped off the chair she sat around the outdoor fireplace in the moonlight, falling out and landing on her backside. Everyone started to laugh, which caused Onyx to hiss in embarrassement. But when she noticed the gleam in her friends' eyes, she too surrendered to the aroma of happiness.

Lucien and his clan of vampires arrived minutes later, conversing amongst their new allies. An hour or so in, Shen excused himself from Jorge, nodding as he disappeared and walked inside The Nest. Nova, watching him, scratched her chin curiously. Vesper watched her track his moves, smiling in understanding.

"Go to him," she nudged her shoulder. "He wants you to follow."

Nova peered behind her, raising a brow. "And how do you know?"

"Power of Presence, hun." she smirked.

Nova rolled her eyes, getting out of her chair. "Excuse me."

Vesper giggled and wished her a goodnight. Nova tossed her coat over her shoulders, exiting through the building. Her heels clicked against the pavement, golden eyes casting shadows over the people passing her. It was a gorgeous night, but the night would be even better if she could find the warlock that stole her curiosity...and heart.

"Are you looking for me?" A man's deep voice startled her. Turning around, Shen came up right beside her. He had his hands stuffed in his coat pockets, his neutral expression following her eyes.

"Me? Well..." Nova tried to play it cool. "Just...wanted to take a walk."

"After I was gone."

Nova pursed her lips, making him smirk in amusement.

"I was wondering why you left. Jorge said you weren't one for company too long."

"I am," Shen declined. "But I like my quiet time, too."

"So do I," Nova smiled. "Guess we'll have quiet time together."

Shen didn't protest this time, not around her. He walked closer, hovering over her which caused her insides to curl and her legs to shake. Shen was an enigma, but their encounters in the past told her he was feeling the things she did for him. The endless tattoos on his arms, across his chest, and neck lit up. He gently wrapped one arm around her, portaling them away from the city and to somewhere Nova had never been before.

Nova turned her head, looking around the room. It was completely different from her apartment, more dark, open and sparse. The walls were almost bare with a few images here and there, a sofa in the middle of the living room with a small coffee table and TV stand mounted on the wall. She could see the hall which lead to the bathroom and bedroom. It must be Shen's place, she realized. Next to the door, Shen slid his arms through the sleeves of his prized coat, carefully nestling it on a rack before motioning her to join him on the balcony.

"Wow," Nova's gaze settled on him. "This place is so...you."

"I know it isn't much," Shen was honest. "But I don't hold the value of decorating to a high standard like Vesper or Jorge."

"I knew it!" Nova clapped her hands together in a victorious laugh. Shen just scoffed and pulled up a chair for her, walking back inside and calling out what she wanted to drink.

"Water's fine!"

He sat next to her seconds later with two water bottles, handing one to her. As Nova gulped hers down, she noticed the view. While his apartment may have been barren, the view was different. The lights and traffic of the city lit up like a painting, and she smiled big like a child on Christmas. Shen's lips thinned into his own short grin, clearing his throat.

"You can't find a view like this for cheap in the city anymore."

"No," Nova's eyes gazed at his hand. "You can't."

Without thinking, she reached out to touch him, to see how he'd react. Shen tensed when he felt the tips of her fingers over his tatted knuckles, emptying his bottle in a few swigs. Her hands were soft, fingers elegant and painted with glossy polish. She gripped the back with her palm, settling over it. To her surprise, he made no move to jerk away, like he got splashed in the face with acid or someone messed with his jacket.

"Nova..."

How far could she go? Leaning over her chair, she leaned in just as he turned his head toward her, freezing when he noticed her lips. The empty water bottle clattered on the porch, her lips gently molding to his. It was a gentle kiss, soft and sweet. Shen's eyes widened, tattoos pulsing from blue to black. It was as if she were inviting him in, taking the initiative but allowing room for him to make his own choice. His eyes softened to half-lids, allowing it to last a few more seconds until she pulled away. She had a smile on her face, but his look remained impassive.

"Shen..."

"What do you want from me?" He asked.

Nova's grin faded.

"Nova..." Shen sighed. "You are a young lady with a bright future, and I'm a warlock with many hard years on my shoulders, including my age. The things I've seen...what I had to do..."

"Is that supposed to matter to me?" Nova was unfazed. Shen's brows frowned, confusion plastured on his face.

"Your past never scared me away, and look at what we've accomplished. People finally accept us, even though it took a long time! And age is just a number. That's why...I want everything of you. I just-"

"Sssshhh." Shen pressed a tatted finger to her lips, silencing her. He tilted her chin, meeting her gaze. He threaded his fingers through her hair, capturing her lips with his. Nova tensed for a minute from shock, but returned his kiss. They were soft, easing into each other. Shen broke away, taking her hand and lifting her to her feet, escorting her back into the apartment. Their feet carried them to the only bedroom, one with a king sized bed and a lone bookshelf. Flicking his hand, candles on the windowsill and two dressers lit the room in waves of blue.

Nova gasped. "Beautiful..."

Shen turned her back around, cupping her face in his hands, allowing her to kiss him again. When they broke apart, Nova sighed as he gently turned her toward the bed, sliding off her coat until it pooled at their feet. Nova knew where things were going, making her gut turn to stone. Shen's hands trailed up her arms, his nails leaving goosebumps and sending shivers down her spine. Shuddering, she froze when he came upon the straps of her navy blue gown.

"May I?" He leaned in toward her ear.

When she didn't answer, he pressed himself against her.

"Y-yes."

He smirked and lowered one strap down, caressing her shoulder with his lips. Nova lulled her head, feeling his teeth nip a path up to her ear where he gently bit down on her lobe before lowering the other strap, tugging it off. Now that her dress was gone, all she was left in was her underwear. She had kicked off her heels when they started to kiss, and now her heart raced. She turned to him, gulping down her nerves. Hissing, she managed to undo the three belts that held his garments together until he lowered her hands.

"Let me," he noticed she was shaking. "You're shaking."

"I'm...cold."

"Cold?"

He just grinned. He slid his shirt off, followed by his pants. Nova's jaw dropped at his tattoos, the intricate designs captivating her. She wanted to trace their patterns with her fingers. She stepped closer to Shen, placing a hand on his torso, sliding it up slowly. His abs rippled beneath her hand, and Shen grabbed it before it could reach his face. With this, he slid his tongue between her teeth, deeply exploring her mouth as they fell back on the bed.

"Oof!" Nova's back hit the black covers and pillows. She saw Shen staring intently at her, awaiting the show. Nova blushed as she reached behind her, unclasping her bra and throwing it aside. Gulping, she then ridded herself of the rest of her underwear, leaving her exposed and vulnerable. Shen then did the same thing, gazing at her with desire.

"S-Shen...I..."

Shen leaned down and grazed his lips along her jawline, nipping just enough to earn him a low moan.

Nova's head perked up as his hands kneaded her breasts, before one moved lower between her thighs. Yelping, she locked her knees together when she felt his fingers dance within. When one entered, another followed, and she covered her mouth, attempting to stifle her cries.

"L-let me...t-touch you, too..."

"No," his voice was firm. "You may not."

Shen then lowered his head toward her breasts, taking turns pleasuring them with his mouth. Nova's body responded in earnest, sensitive to everything he was doing. Removing his fingers, he grazed his thumb across her lips, noticing how plump they were.

"Shen," she begged. "I need you. P-please..."

He kissed her lips, muting her trembling voice. "We'll get there. Just enjoy this."

Nova tangled her fingers in his hair, deepening their kiss. She sucked on his lips, biting and soothing. Shen growled, capturing her bottom lip with his teeth, before shoving his tongue deep in her mouth. French kissing was so tasteful, so erotic and exciting when it was with the one you loved. Pulling away, he kissed along her throat, collar blades, down the sensitive region between her breasts, across her navel with flicks of his tongue and nips of his teeth. Soon, he buried his head in her.

"Agh!" She breathed. Tears flowed from her eyes, the building pleasure stinging, waiting to be released. Soft sobs escaped her lips, unable to cope with it any longer. Her body was beginning to betray her, taking in Shen too much at one time. As he rose up, he saw her tear streaked face.

"Sssshhh..." he soothed. Sniffling, Nova felt the pads of his thumbs wipe her wet eyes before his lips kissed each lid.

"Don't cry, Nova. You're beautiful."

"You...you make me feel beautiful."

Shen smiled, kissing the column of her throat. He excused himself for a moment, slipping on protection.

As she kissed him, Shen jerked his hips forward, causing her to cry out and wrap her arms around him, digging her nails in his back. He stayed like that for a moment, allowing her to get used to it before she pleaded for him to keep going.

"Yes, yes!" She cried as he pulled her on top of him. Now laying on his back, he trailed one hand up her stomach, settling his palm on her navel while balancing her with the other on his hip. His tattooes lit up blue, his eyes turning the same color. Nova's eyes snapped open, yellow light engulfing her. She moaned as he interlaced her fingers with his.

"M-more!" He flipped her on her stomach, this time from behind. Nova could see yellow and blue flowers, connecting to each other as her fingers tightened in his. She looked behind her, moments away from melting.

"Shen...I'm so close..."

"Then let go, my love," he said. "Let go."

When his moves became harsher, she cried out with one final jerk, collapsing on the bed. Shen caught her, one arm around her waist with the other buried in her hair. He kissed the back of her head, sweat beading down his body. The tattoos returned to their normal hue, and Nova heaved against him.

"My God," she panted. "T-that..."

"Nova."

He leaned in, kissing her as they fell in bed together. He pecked at her lips, running a finger down her chin. Nova kissed his palm, their chests gradually slowing.

"Stay with me," Shen whispered. "Be mine."

"I'm not going anywhere."

Shen held her close that night, closer than anyone in his entire life.

[bluelandmugwinner]

When a sitcom went too deep and gave some solid advice on life-

Run toward embarrassment, not away from it, and you take away its power.

Jay Pritchett gave this advice to his son Mitchell Pritchett in the sitcom Modern Family.

It could have been said in a satirical tone since the show Modern Family is a sitcom. Nonetheless, I can’t help but take it seriously. Like as seriously as I took income tax subject back in my degree. The reason is that I find this saying extremely wise. Maybe I wouldn’t have found it profound if I had come across this statement a year before. This is the right time to bump into this quote, I can’t explain the why yet so don’t ask.

Jorge Louis Borges once said, I’ll paraphrase it, that our humiliations, misfortunes, embarrassment and everything else that happens to us should be treated as raw material, like clay, through which we can shape our art.

Here the “art” he might be referring to could be(not limited to) just the way we live our lives. So according to him, the events that happen in life are core materials from which we can learn from.

Now let us come back to embarrassment. It is a word that most people don’t want to be associated with, I mean it’s only fair. Who wants to be labelled as an embarrassing person? In fact, I am sure, some of us have consciously striven to not be an embarrassment, and strayed away from being called “cringe” by others.

This mindset is clearly visible in the way we interact with people, what kind of jokes we laugh at, or the way we carefully filter what to share or not share on social media. It is like we desperately want people to think we are the “cool ones”, you know the ones who judge people by sitting in a corner.

But is this really what being cool is? Constantly judging people, and their actions, and if something they do fails to come under the list of stuff we think is cool then we term them as cringe.

But what if being cringe is cool? What if suddenly the status quo you follow on social media decides that doing “embarrassing stuff” is the new trend now? Will you oppose it? or embrace it? because many people you know are doing it.

If this is the case then our opinion on what is “cool” and what is “not” is desperately dependent on the collective consciousness. And that is definitely not cool. Running after the bandwagon and ignoring what we really think, is this what we as an individual strive to be?

So Jay Prichett’s advice to run after embarrassment and not away from it makes sense. Some of the most exciting individuals who changed history or are now shaping the future were someone, willing to make a fool out of themselves. They were successful because they knew how to fail or at least knew how to fail better as they kept trying. Taking risks, going after what we want, or living life on our terms is all possible when we become vulnerable to ourselves. To understand embarrassment and failure is to understand life.

Or sometimes, you know, it just so happens, as Dwight Schrute said-” Not everything is a lesson, Ryan. Sometimes you just fail” and that’s more than okay too.

.

[rinnysega]

Cry - A Gus Drabble

There was a small knock on the door - a knock familiar to Gustavo as his mother’s knuckle. Three small taps and a turn of the knob, followed by her soft, quiet voice asking the same thing every night - “Are you going to bed, sweetheart?”

What else would he be doing in his room?

Gustavo hugged his knees on his bed - his cheeks red and eyes still blurry with tears from his crying fit moments ago. Barely even nine years old, and the boy was already growing taller than his friends. Too big to cry anymore as his dad would say to him, and then only make it worse with his shouting.

“What’s wrong, mi vida?” Anne Pinheiro sat with her son and held him to her side. She pet his strands of growing brown hair as he leaned against her - sniffing.

“Papi.”

“Oh…I see…” she pet him softly. He didn’t need to tell her more. She knew Jorge was having a rough time since their son turned nine. Their youngest officially one year older than their oldest Eduardo who was lost in the war. When Gustavo laughed and ate his birthday cake, Anne had to do all she could to keep her son from seeing how his father had to step away and be alone out in the yard.

“Why does Papi hate me?” He asked.

“Papa doesn’t hate you, Gustavo.”

“Yes he does. He’s always yelling at me and embarrasses me in front of my friends. I fell down playing football today and he yelled at me when I scraped my knee because it made me cry.”

Anne looked down at her sons bandaged knee on his right leg. A terrible job that he must have done himself.

“You didn’t go see Julieta Madrigal?” She asked. “She makes good bread for scrapes like this”

One year of those kids having gifts, and already the town was depending on those triplets for everything…

“No…” Gustavo pouted and rubbed his face on his mom’s side…

“Well….I’m no Julieta but…”

Gustavo watched as his mom bent down and kissed his bandaged knee. She sang a lullaby to him from her childhood in Spain, and just like when Gustavo was little, he lied down against his pillow and felt tired from her calming demenour..

“Thank you Mami…” he said quietly.

Anne smiled and leaned over to hug her son. “No matter how big you get, you’re my baby. You can always come to me to cry and I’ll make you feel better.” She kissed his forehead. “Okay?”

Gustavo nodded as his mom tucked him into bed and let him drift off to sleep.

Ten years later, on some nights Anne would lie in that bed and cry. And when she hugged her son’s pillow to her chest to heave her tears of his death, she would feel him beside her, petting her hair

[simgrump]

Gen One, Day Eighty

“...and I think we might call it quits, she’s just always wanting to see my phone to see if I’m cheating,” Harvey was explaining to Charlie as they worked out at the gym. Charlie refused to go back to the school gym to work out if it was required for practice. He didn’t even really know why he was still on the basketball team, it seemed to be causing him more problems than it was fun. 

“Are you?” Charlie joked, though he already knew Harvey wouldn’t do something like that. Unlike Jorge, he thought bitterly. 

“Hell no,” Harvey told him. “But a part of me thinks I should just to see what she’d do.” 

Lifting his head, he gave Harvey a look, to which Harvey shrugged with an I know, I know because they both knew he wouldn’t go through with something like that. Charlie chuckled, working on his shoulders. 

“What about you? Anyone catch your eye yet?” Harvey asked, genuinely curious. Charlie hadn’t told him about Jorge. Didn’t think he was going to, either, because he didn’t think he was going to tell anyone about that. It was to embarrassing, too painful just sitting here thinking about it against his will. It was easier to just pretend like it never happened whenever a conversation like this came up, which was pretty often with Harvey. 

“Nah,” he said instead, shaking his head. “Not as easy when you’re not sure if someone’s into guys or not, you know?” 

Harvey turned to him, lifting a brow. “We could get fake IDs and go to a gay bar?” he suggested. Charlie just shook his head at him, not up for that in the slightest. 

Legacy Page

[iwillbeinmynest]

Safer Behind It - Newt x Reader(f)

Authors Notes: Well here it is my first Maze Runner fic! Hopefully y'all like it, or at least don’t hate it. This is based on moments from The Scorch Trials (book). Bold words are direct quotes from the book. I do not take any credit for Dashner’s work.

Word Count: 1.7k

Notes/Warnings: mentions of injuries, mentions of violence, mentions of trauma (from the maze), some fluff and angst if you look hard enough.

Masterlist

 Jorge found them after the lightning storm. Eleven new faces in the building on the outskirts of town. You listened as Jorge gave them the rundown of how things were going to go. When he called for the rest of you, you followed Brenda close.

You and Brenda hadn’t known each other too long but she was good and you trusted Jorge more than anything.

One of the new kids- a boy with dark hair- asked for a few minutes with Jorge.

“Me and you,” The kid begged. He stood over another boy who looked like he had been fried by lightning. Maybe he had, that storm was brutal.

“Ten minutes. Alone. That’s all I ask.” He went on.

You were surprised when Jorge agreed. He must have seen something in the kid you didn’t.

He told you and the others to watch this new group and to kill them if they made any moves. You knew he was being dramatic, adding the threat of death to remind the other Cranks behind you that he was in charge.

One of the boys you were supposed to be watching caught your eye. He was blonde and thin. He had a limp - you’d noticed it as he walked over and checked on the others in his group.

Brenda caught you staring at him. “Careful, Y/N.” She said quietly so the Cranks couldn’t hear her.

You rolled your eyes. “I can handle myself.”

“He’s not gonna like it if you don’t keep up the facade.”

“What’s he gonna do, have you run me through?” You tested.

You saw the twitch of a smirk at the corner of her mouth. “Just don’t be stupid.”

 You tugged up on the thin, tan, scarf that covered your nose and mouth. You didn’t like it to be down.

You walked over to the limping boy. You say boy, but really he was near your age if not a bit older. “You need to sit down,” you told him.

He looked at you carefully. “I’m just making sure these guys are alright.”

His voice sounded funny but you kinda liked it.

“I’m not going to ask again.” you drew the makeshift dagger you had from where it usually was sheathed at your lower back.

 He sighed but sat on the hard concrete next to the fried boy. He pulled a knee to his chest and mumbled, “Bloody shank girl.”

You smirked at that.

“What’s your name?” You asked him.

He looked up at you and there was no hiding the annoyance in his eyes. “Newt.”

“Newt?” You almost laughed. “Like the lizard?”

The boy next to him chuckled.

“No.” Newt huffed. “Like Issac Newton.”

 “I think I like my reason better, lizard boy.”

“Hey!” One of the Cranks behind you caught your attention. It was an older man, you didn’t know his name but you knew you didn’t like him. “What are you talkin’ so much about?”

“None of your business, old man.” You turned to him and left no room for him to think you might be afraid of him, which you weren’t.

“Back off, Murph.” Brenda said calmly as she whacked the flat side of her machete on his chest. “Let her have some fun before we rip them to shreds.”

It seemed to tide him over and he walked away but not before he stared you down again.

You rolled your eyes when his back was turned and exhaled a silent groan. You looked to Brenda.

She had her eyebrows raised and was clearly waiting for you to say,

“Thank you.” You muttered.

“Mhm.” She grinned. You knew she’d never say it out loud but she was starting you like having you around.

You turned back to Newt and crouched down, your sharpened letter opener gripped tightly in your hand. “So, tell me, Newt, What brings you out into the Scorch?”

“Don’t tell her klunk, dude.” The burnt boy said with spunk.

“I bet you’re the fun one.” You teased him, “You look like garbage. What happened to you?”

“He got struck by lightning,” Newt answered, “Or close to it anyways.”

“Yikes.” You responded. You’d been right.

“Didn’t even hurt.” He lied.

“Shuck off, Minho. You’re not fooling anyone.” Newt rolled his eyes.

“Screw you, man.” Minho all but pouted.

 “Why do you cover your face?” Newt asked, ignoring his friend. “No sun in here.”

You paused but tried to cover it and said, “So you don’t get distracted by how pretty I am.”

He smirked at that.

He had a nice smile. It lit up his eyes.

You stood up quickly and walked back to Brenda. Why did you care what his smile was like?

“You good?” She asked low again.

“Fine.” You lied. Actually you were scared by how much you were starting to like Newt. No sense in hurting yourself by getting attached.

Jorge and the dark haired boy reappeared from down the back hall.

Jorge told everyone that he, Brenda and yourself were going to take these few to get some food and that you’d all meet back up at the tower.

You didn’t know what he was planning but it had to be something, because he was putting on quite a show. He mentioned cutting off Minho’s fingers for punching him earlier and you honestly thought he might be serious about that part.

The other Cranks left and you walked behind Brenda as she led the way to the tunnels where you had hid the stash of food.

You helped pass out cans of food and watched as Brenda sat by Thomas - you’d recently learned his name.

You looked around, wondering where to settle amongst these new boys and found Newt looking at you.

“Here goes nothin’” you muttered to yourself beneath your mask.

You made your way over and sat against the wall beside him.

“Enjoying the meal?” You asked. He sure looked like he was.

He nodded, mouth full of cold beans.

“When was the last time you ate?” You realized that he, and everyone else that he’d come with, were eating like they’d been starved.

“Not but a few days ago,” He said when he’d finally swallowed. “But we were out in that bloody heat for so long.” His eyes stared into nothing for a moment and you could tell he was reliving something awful.

“How long were you actually out there?”

“Three, four, five days,” he asked himself. “I’m not sure.”

“Where did you come from?”

“You ask a lot of questions.” He returned to the present and out of the bad memories he’d been replaying. You watched him plaster on a smirk.

There was that smile again. You were glad your cheeks were covered because you were pretty sure you were blushing.

“Do I get to ask you any?”

You nodded, “Sure.”

“Why do you wear that over your face?” He repeated.

“Why do you care?”

His head ticked to the side. You’d asked another question.

You relented. “I already told you.”

“But we both know that wasn’t the truth.” He said before taking another bite.

You sombered and sighed. You were trying to find the words.

“I only partly lied.” You finally said.

 Newt stopped eating and shocked you with what he said next. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business if you don’t want to talk about it.”

It was so...considerate of him to say that. It had been a long time since anyone other that Jorge was considerate to you. Even Brenda was harsh when you’d met her and she still makes comments about it.

The look in your eyes must have revealed something to him.

“You really don’t have to tell me.”

For some reason you did, though. Maybe it was his soft voice, maybe it was the random kindness he’d displayed, but suddenly, you wanted to show him. Almost like a test to see if he was genuinely kind at heart.

You slipped your index finger under the cloth near your nose but before you pulled it down you said, “Just...brace yourself.”

You pulled the mask down below your chin, revealing the angry red scar that ran from your upper lip, just below your nose, all the way to your ear, which had a notch missing from it.

Newt barely flinched. He just looked at you.

Your scar had healed thick which made it distort your lip slightly.

“When I was first sent here, after finding out I had the Flare, a crank attacked me with a shard of glass. He got me pretty good but Jorge was there and he saved me. He couldn’t do much to make me look better, though.” You pulled your mask back up. “Most people just stare at it, instead of me. So, I cover it up.”

“You shouldn’t.” He offered a hint of a smile as he switched to his second can of food. “Nothing wrong with the way you look.”

You sat stunned.

“I broke my leg in three places. That’s why I have a limp. Do you only see the limp when you look at me?” He asked.

You shook your head, unable to think of anything to say.

He shrugged his shoulders. “See?”

 You bit down a smile that threatened to spread across your mouth. Good thing your mask was on.

“I’m sorry I called you lizard boy.” You felt bad for teasing him, now.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve been called worse.”

The two of you sat in silence for a short while. Then, you wondered something.

“What’s a shank?”

He chuckled, “Just something we say. Why?”

“Back in the building you called me a ‘bloody shank girl’.”

His cheeks flushed and he stared down at the can he was eating from. “Sorry.”

“So, shank isn’t nice then?”

“Depends…” He smirked, almost embarrassed he’d said that about you.

“And here I thought you were soft.”

He looked at you. “Nope, just wrong on occasion.”

“I’m Y/N, by the way.” You suddenly realized you’d never told him your name and now you wanted him to know it. To say it.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” He paused a moment before adding, “ I have a feeling I won’t regret it.” He glanced over at you again.

“You won’t.” You promised.

 *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

TMR Tags: 

@mo320