Y'all are TRULY sleeping on Hyacinth by S.M. LaViolette. Like, I really enjoyed Phoebe (first book in the series), but Hyacinth is on another level. It features:
--a scarred libertine duke
--a neurodivergent heroine (23 to his 36) who happens to be KILLER at playing cards (in part because she's counting them) and sneaks out at night to play them while dressed as a very awkward young man
--a very casual interest in kink from her that makes him (a kinky man) go "O_O"
--a shockingly fabulous scene in which he tries to get her to admit she's a girl by taking her to a brothel, making her watch two people fuck while sitting beside him, and rattling off like 75 slang phrases for "jerking it" before being like "there's nothing WRONG with it bOY MEN MASTURBATE IN FRONT OF EACH OTHER ALLLL THE TIME" and starting to pull his dick out
--her: "AHHHH NO--YES? NO!"
--RIDING CROPS!
--so MUCH begging from this man, SO. MUCH. BEGGING.
--they're switches, your honor
--squirmy carriage BJs
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So, he has a new series out so I was reminded of my obsession with Ding Yuxi again and in watching some YT video about the new series I was again struck by how fascinating it is to me how different his looks can be. For example, when I watched the first series with him in the main role (The Romance of Tiger and Rose; which yes, I'll readily admit, I agreed to watch in a large part because I saw him on the poster and was like, well, I wouldn't mind seeing more of this 😏), there were two ~versions of him – in the historical and the modern setting:
And like yeah they all wear those wigs in historical dramas so that's not particularly remarkable, right. Little did I know that this was just a tiny tip of the iceberg
Because then when I went to look him up afterwards on YT etc. and the first pictures I saw were these:
about which I was at first like, is that even him? Like the face is just ... not the same in these? But ok, what do I know, anyway ... And then I watched an interview where he has yet another different look, and that seemed kind of in between, so that "bridged the gap" in a way. And then! – in that same interview – they juxtaposed him with another of his earlier looks:
and it's like, who tf is this person ?
It's just, idk, really amazing how much just different hairstyles, lighting, makeup, accessories will do. Obsessed
Other interview looks are nothing extreme
And obviously there's supposed to be more variety when looking at the different roles
But still, sometimes I'm just like, this is one person .....
And like, sure, these looks obviously aren't impossibly different, but comparing the different ends of the spectrum can be pretty wild
In any case, the one that brought all of this about was this latest one:
and idk at this point I shouldn't be surprised anymore. And yet ...
Anyway, I do actually love his acting too lmao
It really is ... delectable 😌
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I know some of you think I’m probably being too hard on the prospects of getting a Treasure Planet sequel, and ur probably right tbh
BUT given Disney’s track record with sequels in the past, the fact R&J wouldn’t have a hand in it (even back then), and the excessive amount of corporate meddling and script/story troubles in even their most RECENT sequels (i.e. Frozen 2 and Ralph Breaks the Internet)—
I don’t think my worries of Treasure Planet 2 being, not just mediocre, but Bad™️ are entirely unwarranted
Not after all this time anyways, where expectations have risen to an outrageously astronomical degree (no pun intended) that I’m almost certain no matter what kind of quality/state TP2 releases in, it will not have justified the wait and we’re going to be disappointed either way.
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The Lighthouse and The Ocean
Epilogue
Pairing: Pedro Pascal/OFC
Warnings: just fluff
Summary: Six years later
Notes: Also find this fic on Ao3 -here- or the series' Masterlist and Playlist -here-
Imagining 'In Dreams' by Sierra Ferrell for the "end credits" and their family pictures is a real treat.
Length: short and sweet 850 words
~
Six Years Later
It was like I could only really rest my eyes while looking at the sea. Scattered clouds, such heavenly bodies on a sunny day.
I relaxed my back against his torso and felt him radiate happiness. Comfort bloomed in my chest when Pedro softly planted a kiss on the back of my hand for no particular reason and held my gaze with a loving smile. Looking into these warm, coffee-brewed eyes, I realised nothing had changed. More greys in his hair and beard and lines upon his face perhaps, just like myself. He was still the man I fell in love with all these years ago and I loved him like it was the first day. I'd love him even more by tomorrow. What an uplifting and kind thought.
We didn't speak, for what could we say, my dearest one, other than let's do it all again by tomorrow?
Pedro's other hand, the one still adorning his bracelet, was currently resting on my heavy baby bump and I sighed, content with sinking back further into him as we sat among the sandy dunes of Montauk Beach. Bringing cheesecake and collecting sea glass had become a family tradition. I could almost picture us as phantoms of our past that skipped across the sand.
It had been six years since that summer day and so much had happened. Five since I started therapy and we moved in together, four since I released my second album and people began to film a documentary about me. Three since we had our shotgun wedding and our first child was born. Two since Pedro won an Oscar for his debut movie he wrote and directed. The world was proud of this angel.
Little Pedro from Santiago de Chile had dreamt of everything his hard work and kindness had brought him today. Little Nini from a small Dutch fisher town found more peace, love and freedom than she could have ever imagined. They had a family now and a home behind a gate with pink roses and friends visiting every day.
We'd been taking this last year off to focus on our family, healing from the losses and working through the changes life provided. Our second child was due in about three months. Oh, and how eager we were to meet them too. My hand joined his larger one, hoping our unborn baby felt our love.
We had everything we could have ever wished for. Children playing, parents waving.
Every time I watched our toddler play with my little sister, mops of blonde and dark hair whipping through the wind, I felt my heart warm at the thought of seeing our family grow. The children's far away cry of joy while running along the wet sand with the dog, the crashing of waves hitting the shore. The duo was picking up shells and stones off the sand, chasing one another with high laughter ringing through the wind.
On the far end of the beach stood a lighthouse in front of the ocean, I felt we were just as unlimited.
My husband pressed a kiss onto the top of my head and I felt a smile curling there when he felt the baby kicking beneath his broad palm. Pedro chuckled every time they did that, excited to meet the little miracle growing beneath my heart. He was a good father, to our babies as well as my little sister, whom he treated like his own ever since Fee came back into my life.
I simply knew I could bear anything with him in my heart. A smile played upon my lips and I closed my eyes into the ever-changing sunlight. Pedro softly breathed into the crook of my neck from behind, his chest rising as his lips rested there. It was okay to stop and breathe for a moment. I simply thought about all the people who loved Pedro into becoming the wonderful person he was today, knowing I owed them a world for it.
I wished nothing but light and love in his life, may everything good in this world come to Pedro. May he live happily ever after and continue helping so many people and improve so many lives just by being himself. I wished him sunny days and comfort when they'd grow cloudy. Sometimes and more than a thousand times I wished to be held by him forever.
I never grasped the feeling of a happy end until this very day, at a place right back where we started. At this moment, it made me feel like we had reached the final page of a book. Or the end credits of a movie, followed by the growing number of family pictures in our home. Our wedding, our family pictures next to a couple of trinkets. All of our beloved memories, from the decorated picture frame of our first date at Montauk Beach to our visit to Pedronie's communal gardens. These memories were captured in picture frames, one by one, a life lived.
The End
Thank you for reading.
~
Pedro and Nini will return for a second book, until then, loved having you here
- Lore
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This scene is really heartbreaking to me.
Gin is out here, in a graveyard of all places, at the brink of death. That's not the kind of place you happen to stop by to rest or catch your breath. Gintoki came here to die.
And yet, when opportunity arises, he clings to life. Despite his pain, despite his suffering, he chooses life.
And then he promises to stay by Otose's side as if she needed any protecting, as if she asked for help. When really, the only one dying, the only one in desperate need of help a little bit of warmth is no one but himself.
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been in the Bad Brain place lately, so i've been struggling to finish writing about why chef mhon's character makes sense to me, because of
a) the long-term effects of the WORLD SHAKING trauma of your life partner abandoning you AND of being unable to feed yourself and your children
b) being unable to process said trauma much (if at all), as you then hit the ground running to make a living in the aftermath (in a new city with no support and with who knows what marketable skills)
c) the stigma of being a divorced woman in a society that will blame you for being the reason your marriage failed in the first place, and will also blame you for any way your children step out of line
d) the difficulties of achieving success as a working mother when employers see women as flakier, less-worthy hires, especially in a male-dominated industry
and how no amount of money or stability will ever seem like enough, and how difficult it is to trust anyone plus how easy it is to see everything as a potential danger to the stability you fought tooth and nail for, and how it makes sense for a traumatized person who never had the time and support to work through their trauma to project all kinds of things onto their kids
but apparently she just kinda. walked it off?
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