[ lunes-1-de-abril , 10.55 am. ] hay colores que no le agradan a las vacas: el amarillo, por ejemp ― ― voz masculina fue sustituida con la música de un comercial que apenas duró dos segundos, porque el video que gaia estaba reproduciendo a unos cuantos metros del establo rápidamente se vio interrumpido por una pantalla de carga. un suspiro fue soltado por quien creía haber hallado un escondite de sus compañeros. ' señal de... ' no terminó de pronunciar el insulto, la presencia de alguien más fue percibida antes. ' uh. no estoy holgazaneando, si es lo que parece. '

"Okay, daddy." (From Yongsun, do with this whatever you want lol)

   pass me the salt , princess .

   okay daddy .

 gangjae stops mid chew , looks up with the chopsticks still between his lips . daddy , daddy , he really did it . now that wasn't the nastiest fantasy they've gone through and tried in the bedroom but that one nickname settled a very warm feeling in the pit of his stomach . while he gave zero fucks about the business associates that sat around the large table in the most luxurious restaurant in seoul that gangjae himself had closed down just to talk the route of their new product to japan . . . he liked the way they raised their eyebrows . at least the ones who sat close to gangjae and yongsun — he can't help his smirk . he doesn't take the salt that yongsun is giving him , but his hand curls around yongsun's wrist to pull him away from his seat , up on his feet so it was easier to walk him around the table and bring him to his lap . one of the men coughed , one of them chuckled while he kept eating his sushi and cheolsu widened his eyes . gangjae , on the other hand , was sitting yongsun on one of his thighs , and hiding his face in the crook of his neck . eyes closed , a lingering peck placed upon the fading mark he's left on the pale throat a few nights ago . a soft murmur ;

 ❛ what did you call me ? ❜

NO ONE TALK TO ME

open (@woodrowhub). september 5, 2005. 4:15 pm. the terrace.

For someone words had always come to so easily, Stephanie felt as though the blank page in her notebook was mocking her. She had known more than most about the upcoming gala, had even known that she was meant to be giving a speech, but she hadn't anticipated that it would be under these circumstances. Everything she had wanted to say, reflecting on the ups and downs the Foundation had experienced in the last year, suddenly felt hollow to her. Everything felt different to her now, and the gears didn't seem to turn.

"What am I supposed to say?" She asked aloud, looking up from the bench she had claimed on the quiet of the terrace. "How am I supposed to talk about... fundraising goals?" She scoffed weakly and looked down again at the page, tapping her pen against it. "...What do you think he'd say?" There was no mistaking who he was when it came to her question.

he hadn't been expecting to hear a knocking at his door this late in the hour, much less @moralpuppet out of anyone. rod hadn't heard much from the kid lately, only seen the drastic change in appearance and behaviour.

" orel ! what are you doing here ? "

he glanced around from side to side, seeing if anyone had come with him, or perhaps dropped him off at his steps. but alas, he found no one around, and the kid was looking worse than ever. eyes made their way back to orel, warm light from his house stark against the cold dim outside. it wasn't fully dark out yet, but it was bound to get dark soon. maybe being a nightowl was part of his newfound phase ...

he's not sure what's going on over there ... it sounds distressing.

Starter to: Everyone (@aurorabaystarter). Location: Sweet Spot Creamy.

It was her day off, at last. Louise has been very busy lately but she couldn't complain about it — she loved to be there, to help, to listen, to be a friendly shoulder. Knowing that she could be trusted by a stranger was something fascinating.

Once in a while, she liked to go to Sweet Spot Creamy; it reminded her of the old days when she was a child, after school with her grandma, once per week, they met there and ate her favourite ice cream: bubblegum. It's still funny how it's still her favourite flavour. The blonde was feeling pretty nostalgic after buying bubblegum ice cream when she closed her eyes for a second until she felt a bump.

The ice cream was all over her floral, long, and blue dress. "Fuck." She mumbled, taking a deep breath. "I'm so sorry, I hope you're not dirty."

it was enough back then to be perpendicular , slot a warm hand at the junction of satoru's neck to guide his lolling head away from the glass of the car window, to take suguru's shoulder as his pillow instead . these days he turns himself inwards ; bends a knee with a dusty sole dug sharp into the upholstery, welcomes satoru's dozing body between his legs, dotting drool against his chest . breath warm ﹠. sweet as the sweat of a half - drinken strawberry milkshake was frigid on his fingers — holding it for satoru, should he still want it . ijichi's eyes in the rearview were a rapid flick darting panicked to the road at the first yawn's wide rattle, the groan of leather in the small space of the backseat ﹠. a soft smiling sound : cradling his face, bumping his nose at the drowsy flutter of white lashes underneath the traffic lights, suguru kissed him ( thumbs at his lip, licks at his tongue ) . lets his words tumble into a sighed " hm, you were out like a light .. did we hit a pothole ? " 😴🚗

 wouldn't it be incredibly stupid not to use the god the world has given them ? until every single patch of his is burned , even without a soul , his mortal vessel was enough — could you even see his soul at all ? the handsome body of impossibilities , laying asleep between the arms of his darling . the glass pressed against his temple , leaving a lingering patch of coldness as his head is guided back to suguru's shoulder instead , and he's like a waking child . grumpy because he's awoken , still sleepy and trusting the hands that handle him way too much . too much , too tender , is this how you treat gods ? the road stretches on and long , a few hours till they reach the school , ijichi’s responses to satoru's lazy jokes had stopped an hour ago , letting him doze off against the window and now in suguru's lap .

 it was a particularly demanding mission that required the attention of the strongests rather than the kids . the twins were wishing suguru luck , telling him he better be careful and megumi was rolling his eyes when satoru loudly claimed that he's put some noodles in the fridge for his dinner . well , he didn't , megumi liked suguru's cooking more and was a big boy now . satoru though , satoru's head lolls sideways toward the seat , eyes not opening even when he feels suguru's kiss . but responds to it , mouth still open slightly after the peck , abandoning the demand of a world that needs to be saved to focus on the brush of suguru's thumb against his lips . ❛ shouldn't have gone bare-eyed into it . . . ❜  he mumbles , catches one of slightly smaller hands to bring it to his chest . not a scratch on him , he doesn't have to check if suguru is wounded because he's simply sure that he — isn't . lovers of gods don't need protection because the greatest bravery is surviving their love alone . satoru's breath comes out in a soft sigh , he should get up but his bones are heavy and he wants to stay in suguru's arms forever . ❛ . . . no fun activities tonight either . ❜  now that brings a loud groan to his lips , it makes ijichi roll his eyes but bites his tongue not to mention that they were both about to die a few hours ago . for the thousandth time this week . letting go of suguru's hand , he reaches the opposite side to grab the strawberry milkshake . lifting his weight off of suguru , to sit a little straighter and take a large gulp of the sweet drink in hopes of helping himself regain his energy . tonight wasn't going to be a loud one , it seems . after finishing up the drink suguru had gotten up , he reaches forward to drop the empty glass onto ijichi's lap ; can't toss it out the window now , can he ? where are his manners ? the oldest man gasps in surprise and mumbles something about his noble way of keeping the environment clean while satoru returns to his comfortable nest in suguru's lap . ❛ suguru . . . play with my hair . ❜

"i must admit, her writings have not been very interesting to me as of late." she tries not to turn her nose up as she says it, but it would only take a fairly distracted person or a child to miss the disdain in her words — neither of which he was. eloise could only hope that he didn't pay much attention to lady whistledown as the rest of the ton did, man or woman, youthful or aged. though with all things considered in mayfair and the power that pamphlet held over it, those hopes may just be wishful thinking.

"there are far more interesting things to read and busy ourselves with than gossip." or at least, gossip that wasn't shared with the intention to slander somebody in a supposed effort to save them from the queen's ire. "wouldn't you agree?"

@proditeur ! starter call.

chasquea la lengua desilusionado luego de abrir uno de los huevos de pascua, acercándose a la silueta más cercana para expresar su decepción. ' ¿puedes creer mi mala suerte? lo único que he conseguido es de éstas ' enseña una pequeña botella de alcohol, abriéndola y dando un largo trago del líquido para cuando termina el lamento. ' creo que ya se llevaron todo lo interesante. ¿qué hay de ti? ¿tuviste mejor suerte? '

@piinetrees. just a lot of memories coming up. all those good times. well, not so much good times as really awful, terrible, depressing times. (maybe the summer after canon??? also HIIII ✨)

there's a sympathetic look on ford's face, brows furrowing slightly. he knows that feeling well, having grappled with the same plagues of memories for years on end. it's nothing he'd want his great nephew to have to endure alone if he could help it.

" dipper. "

knowing the boy's tendency towards panic, dipper's shoulder is met with a six fingered hand — grounding, strong and steady.

" it's all in the past now. all those memories are just — memories. he can't hurt us anymore. he's gone. "

his name doesn't have to be said for both to know exactly who ford is referring to, the name better left unsaid. there's a small pause before face shifts to a softer smile, wanting to lighten the atmosphere. there's a small squeeze to his shoulder before straightening himself, offering dipper a wider smile.

" we've got all summer to make new memories, we might as well make the best of it. "

“  shit, okay fuck that actually really fucking hurts.  ”

 ❛ yeah no shit . . . ❜  he mumbles , but lets the other pull himself away from the touch of the alcohol — sits back , allows a small smirk on his lips . all in all it was his fault that kitty got injured , no bullets in sight but a deep wound that wouldn't stop bleeding until gangjae got into work . living through hells of pain and adrenaline , gangjae had no choice but to understand and learn how to use a gauze and some alcohol to clean the wound before it gets infected . he's stitched it up successfully , somehow with steady breath and steadier gaze that was unlikely for someone who used drugs almost every day . gangjae gives kitty the pad , lets him to it himself and leans back on his leather couch , glancing at the clock on the wall . ❛ stay the night here . ❜  in his second office , probably the safest place if the cops or others happened to barge in the club again – well they wouldn't dare , but gangjae was probably the most paranoid guy in the world . not in his spirit , his leg bouncing restlessly as he read through the messages in his phone . his jaw tenses , he's not even reading them . ❛ . . . they've gotten so fucking brave . coming here , hurting MY dancer . ❜

" did you have a nightmare ? " ( one of your MDZ muses ? )

 rong didn't like strangers , not the ones with pointed ears who were named gods ; but diplomatic relations often led to his father and his older brother meeting up with the strangest strangers . while rong was the ‘ blessing ‘ of their lands , could manipulate the weather and create storms to his will , he wasn't often viewed as a strong political figure — he was just the myth , just someone who sat with them during lunch and left when they started to get into deeper matters . the general looked like a frightening man , with a piercing gaze that rong tried his best to avoid until he woke him up from his nap under the willow tree . ‘ did you have a nightmare ? ‘ beyond terrified and embarrassed , the youngest heir to the throne immediately rises to his feet to bow to their guest ; a leaf stuck between smooth locks that he either doesn't notice or doesn't pay attention to . ❛ i apologize – i tend to feel sleepy around this time of year . ❜  a fruitful spring with the most beautiful sky above their heads , rong was truly a blessing since he was born , at least for the farmers . and rong liked sleeping outside with the soft breeze caressing his cheek rather than inside his private chambers — but perhaps it'd be a good idea not to do it when they had guests over . either way , he gives the other man a bright smile , nothing if not welcoming and warm . ❛ what can i do for you ? would you like to walk in our gardens with me ? ❜

rod had finally been released from his sickness - induced ' house arrest. ' it might've only been a cold, but noellene had wanted to be extra sure he got healthy — and that he didn't get the rest of the town sick again ...

he made his way to the office of the church, still perplexed about what happened sunday. upon arrival, he notices his recorder had been tampered with. a raised eyebrow, he presses play on the latest recording, arms crossed as he leans against his desk.

" alright, let's see what all the funny business is about. "

not much to his surprise, orel had been responsible for the past sunday's happenings. what an orel thing to do. he absentmindedly nods along as he listens, pulling at the ends of his sleeves with knitted brows at the boy's talk of a ' Godless, non - churchy existence. '

he continues to listen as he can't help but smile a bit — partly from ego, and partly from the words spoken. expression softens as the sermon comes to an end with a click, rod shaking his head with a small chuckle as he speaks aloud to himself.

" not bad, orel. not bad at all. "

💀 — " What -- What's that, mistletoe? " [ Cesare questions, not at all convincingly, having just applied a liberal amount of lipstick. not to mention being the one who JUST hung that mistletoe himself -- in front of Steve. ] " It looks like we're just gonna have to kiss with our mouths, festive-style. Thats -- That's just tradition. I'm all about tradition ... "

at the mention of the mistletoe, steve looks up to where it had just been hung. though he had watched cesare hang the mistletoe directly above them and apply the lipstick, he somehow hadn't connected the acts as directed at him.

his eyebrows furrow in confusion at the talk of tradition. he'd never seen cesare pay much mind to tradition before ( and he'd seemingly missed the first part of the sentence. )

" but — you don't ... "

it takes a moment for steve to process the full of what he'd said. cesare can practically see the gears turn and finally click ! in his head as he understands what he meant, mouth opening in surprise.

" — oh !! "

his face lights up at the realization, before features shift into a more sheepish one just as quick. his face is a deep red as he glances from the mistletoe, to cesare, to his lips.

expression unsteady, he leans down towards him, hands shakily reaching out to hold his sides. screwing his eyes shut, he closes the gap and plants a very shy kiss, their noses smushing with a HONK ! after a few seconds he pulls back slightly, somehow even redder than before, giant lipstick mark lopsided on his mouth.

" l - like that ? "

He pretends it happens on accident about as subtly as a tsunami pretends it hadn't even seen the shore it crashed on. One hand propping up his face, so relaxed, seated on the floor next to one of the twin jades, yet so terribly tense all the same: Jiang Cheng is so unused when it comes to attempting to reach out for things he wants. Wanting in on its own feels like a concept not reserved for the likes of him. But his pinky has brushed against Lan Wangji's already and even while he looks away, as bad an actor as his Yunmeng's robes are purple, he can't help but feel like it's only fair to commit to what he's decided for himself to try. Even if it's killing him slowly inside.

((i said 'holding hands' and you said 'in the cloud recesses' and i lost my mind pretend this makes sense in canon pls pls pls 🥺 it even has shy jiang cheng like-- 🥺))

 jiang wanyin tries so hard to hide a tsunami behind his polite bows , his quiet thank yous when he doesn't even have to thank anyone . he tries to appear smaller because his brother is too loud and too big , and he has to keep apologizing — as a clan leader must . lan wangji was a lucky second heir , the responsibility of lan gusu’s future would probably never be dumped on his shoulders even though he was trained and taught to carry it as elegantly as he carries his sword .

 now placed beside him on the bench , he doesn't even know when their silence had become too comfortable for wanyin because usually the second lan heir didn't care if his companion was growing nervous about his stubborn silence . it was odd to feel satisfaction , relief when he realized that wanyin wasn't trying to start small talks to fill it . and even more glad when his fingers curl around his – he doesn't fully grip wangji's hand . only wraps his fingers around wangji's pinkie , ring and middle fingers . three fingers that gently settle inside wanyin’s curled palm and for a while it doesn't draw any reaction from wangji . for a while . soon his limp fingers shift , force themselves out of wanyin's grasp to curl around his hand instead . not loosely , not half hearted . wangji’s fingers curl and press on the wooden seat between them , prevent wanyin's from touching the hard surface , and be cradled in his tender hold .

 they must have been breaking some kind of rule – years of reciting the rules of lan gusu had taught wangji that even laughing can sometimes have consequences . let alone hold another sect’s heir’s hand , who's come here to cultivate and leave . wangji could name his action many unlikeable things but he chooses to focus on the softness of wanyin's hand . a contrast to his attitude and moody eye rolls , sometimes it's entertaining to watch from afar . the way he deals with everything and how everything gets on a wrong nerve ; he's hiding everything so well and wangji can , unfortunately see that . he doesn't look at anyone for too long or at all , but when something unusual catches his attention , he can see the problem very clearly . but lan gusu books couldn't teach him the warmth that's pooled in his chest when he felt the steady beating of a vein under his thumb and on wanyin's knuckle .

 ❛ . . . you're cold . ❜