#Listen all I'd need is a stage

[a-crow-with-rights-and-anxiety]

Girl help I'm getting music video ideas outside of my creative abilities

[hidefdoritos]

For someone who's never been to a bar/club karaoke night, I sure have vivid daydreams of going to a bar/club karaoke night in a new town, absolutely tearing it up, and falling in love with the local star as we alternate choosing increasingly flirtatious songs

[snekdood]

some of ye'all are so nihilistic about people who dont proclaim to be leftists that you're genuinely assuming centrists are more right leaning than they are

[starpros-sunshine]

Need to do something about mindless scrolling habit but I am sooo tired and I want to keep mindlessly scrolling but also I want to throw my phone out of my window and regain my creativity and drive to do stuff when I was young and not constantly reading something or other on my phone.

[mashmouths]

oh "the house that built me" by miranda lambert we're really in it now

[dduane]

Do you have any recommendations on what to do when you can’t write?

I’ve been struggling to write for years, but telling stories is all I want to do. I have ideas and plots and characters all figured out! But actually getting the words onto paper? I just can’t do it. There’s a mental block or something getting in the way.

I want to write, I so badly do. I want to tell my stories! But no matter how hard I try, no matter how much I love the story, the words never work properly. I can day dream scenes up perfectly, but as soon as I’m near paper the words all vanish.

I guess what I’m actually asking is: how did you defeat the blank page?

Well, first of all, I can confidently tell you that your storytelling per se is working just fine. You just told me a perfectly cogent story right there, in writing. So that's good to know.

Now let me put your mind a little at rest by telling you something reassuring about the Writer's Brain:

It's not the sharpest knife in the block, if you take my meaning. It can be tricked. It can be fooled. It can be bamboozled into working when it doesn't want to... sometimes with embarrassing ease. (And this approach is, by and large, far preferable to sitting around over-analyzing one's interior life to figure out what went wrong with your developmental process somewhere in the dim lost past. Just hornswoggle the silly thing into working and then do the analysis later, if you can be bothered.)

Sometimes just changing something basic in the process the Writer's Brain is expecting is enough to make it lose the plot (so to speak...) and let you get on with work. And in your case I'd say, more or less immediately: Have you tried telling the story to yourself out loud, recording it, and then transcribing the recording?

Because this problem is a commonplace among storytellers. Sit them down in the pub and give them tea or a drink and start them going, and you'll get half an effortless hour of hilarious prose about What The Cat Did In The Middle Of The Night or When The Neighbors Were Fighting In The Street Again Yesterday. But show them blank paper, or an empty screen, and (now that the pressure to perform is suddenly in place) they freeze.

So try doing an end run around your writing brain. Borrow or otherwise procure a little recorder of some kind. (Or if you've got a smartphone, add a voice recording app to it.) Go get comfortable somewhere and get yourself into that daydream state, and then—making sure the recorder's on—start talking.

It doesn't have to be perfect unblemished prose. The pursuit of that comes later, after draft zero-minus-one. Just tell the story... or some of it. Or a fragment of it. Even a few paragraphs is a triumph, in a situation like this. You may, during the recording, have to talk yourself into the story stage by starting out talking about something else first. Let that happen.

Then when you're done recording, listen to it and transcribe it (typed or handwritten, as you please).

And maybe a day later, do this again. And a day or two later, once more. And so forth.

You're going to have to keep at this, because your Writer's Brain may start suspecting what you're up to, and try throwing spanners into the works. (Its favorite being "Oh, this isn't working, I may as well give up..." Pay no attention to that nagging little voice behind the curtain. Just keep doing what you're doing. Persistence is a superpower.)

The thing to keep reminding yourself, as you settle into this process, is that sooner or later the WB's resistance is going to flag, because you really do want to tell stories. It does too. What you have to teach it is that—to coin a phrase—resistance is useless. :)

Anyway: give this a try. You'll need to be doing this daily for at least a couple of months to find out whether it works or not. So let me know how it goes.

(BTW: once you've broken through the barrier, you may well find that dictation is a good routine way for you to generate your first draft. At that point—should you feel inclined to go a little higher-tech than recording and hand transcription—let me recommend Dragon Anywhere. This is a month-to-month subscription version of Dragon's flagship text to speech program—the one @petermorwood and I got Terry Pratchett to use when he started having difficulty typing. I use Anywhere a lot, on days when it's easier to write stretched out or lying down than it is sitting up. It transcribes what you say, and then you can just email it to yourself and cut-and-paste it into your writing document. Very handy.)

Hope this helps!

[cheriladycl01]

Double the Interviews - Oscar Piastri x GreekOlympicTennis! Reader

Plot: WAG duties consist of you literally being in more interviews than Oscar because of your outgoing and bubbly personality.

"Y/N can we have a minute of your time please?" an interviewer asks pulling you away from your friend who you look over at. She smiles at you and nods, making her way back to the McLaren garage.

"How are you feeling about the race tomorrow?" he asks and you put a serious face on.

"Yeah, I think the car's got good pace, looking to be in some top positions and I'm excited to see what happens!" you nod and the interviewer holds back their laugh.

"Spoken like a true driver!" he chuckles and you start to laugh as well.

"How are you feeling knowing come summer you'll be competing in the Olympics for Greece in Paris while Oscar is also competing in his own sport?" he asks and you nod, carefully listening to the question to not misunderstand him.

"Yeah of course. You know it's always hard when you have those conflicting schedules especially in athlete relationships. You know I'm still competing in ATP and I have been for a while, and then going into the Olympics on top of that is just immense. I get to travel with my best friend who I've played tennis with since 3 years old but at the same time Osc isn't there all the time. I think that's why today is just so important to me, to be here to support him at his home race!" you smile to the man in front of you who slowly pulls the mic back towards him.

"Will we be seeing Oscar at the Olympics this year?" he asks.

"I think at this stage it's hard to tell, F1 has the longest and busiest schedule to date this year and there's more stress and pressure on the drivers than ever with all the changes taking place ahead of 2025 and 2026, so you know I'd love Oscar to be able to come and see me take home another medal, but again it's one of those moments where you can't be in two places at once!" you explain, knowing he'd already planned to come for your first event of the summer, and would try and stay with you, until it ended for you. But even he didn't know when McLaren would request for him in Woking, or if he'd go home to spend a little needed time with his family.

"Well, I think it's safe to say we are all wishing for Gold for you again this year. Good luck to you and Y/BFF/N who we did see earlier, but dipped away last minute before i could invite her!" he smiles at you, and you smile back.

"You'll see us at the Olympics up at the very top. We promise!" you give the camera a cheesy grin before saying your goodbye's and leaving him to question the next driver who was eagerly waiting behind you.

"There you are!" you hear the Australian accent you knew all to well from your left.

"Hey baby!" you smile, leaning up and placing a soft kiss on Oscar's cheek.

"Saw Y/BFF/N come back without you, when she told me you were stolen for an interview i thought i'd come see if you needed saving" he softly tells you placing a light and gentle hand in your smiling softly down at you.

"Ah, you see baby that is where we are completely and utterly different. I love talking to all your work colleagues!" you say, pulling his hand along so you can both walk back together. You wave at people as you walk past saying small hello's and posing for any camera's you spot in your peripheral.

"You consider the media work colleagues of mine?" he asks with a low laugh that has you cocking your head to one side in question.

"You don't?" you offer back.

"No, my colleagues are my team and the other drivers!" he admits with a blank look on his face that just screams that no cogs are turning up there.

"I mean, you work with the media every time your here. I'd say you work with them, they might not be on your team but they are still apart of your sport!" you admit, he goes to argue but you put a soft finger on his lip.

"Would you consider my ball boy's as my colleagues?" you ask, and he thinks for a second before sighing and nodding.

"There you go then! F1 interviewers are your work colleagues and i like talking to them, they always have very insightful questions!" you smile.

"Insightful or invasive?" he queries looking across at you, brows a little furrowed.

"Damn, you really are a young Kimi Raikkonen. I see what the fans mean now!" you laugh at his expression which quickly tries to change but the frown lines remain.

"God, we need to go back to my mum's for some rest and relaxation" you sigh, starting to massage his wrist and up his arm making him sigh.

"Mmmm, we do I really miss that one dish that she makes us!"

"The Tzatziki with the roasted meat and vegetable kebabs or Moussaka?" you ask looking over at him knowing he enjoyed both.

"Oh! I was thinking of the Moussaka, but the Tzatziki is good. My trainer actually said that it was the perfect mix!" he admitted, still holding that blank expression.

"But he tells you off for the Honey Cake!" you sigh knowing that it was a delicacy you didn't get very often too, being an athlete and all meant that you had to have a very strict diet and couldn't lie to your trainer about cheat days you'd have.

"Okay but that Honey Cake is lethal! You cant stop when you start eating it!" he says before starting to quietly ramble about all his favorite foods as you enter the confides of his driver room away from the public eye.

You cant help but just watch and smile at him, people rarely get to see this funny talkative side of Oscar that could actually out ramble you sometimes which should be near impossible as you were very much a yapper. Especially when you got passionate and would slip in some of you mother tongue without realizing.

"What?, Why are you staring at me?" he asks, after realizing he'd started to rant.

"I just love watching you talk, you nose scrunches when you get passionate about a topic and it's cute" you smile, looking down knowing he'd be a blushing mess.

"Shut up! You are the yapper here, start yapping!" he says, making you burst out laughing while he goes to sit down on the small sofa.

"I'm going to miss you next week!" you sigh as you sit down on his lap where he wraps his arms tightly around you and rests his head in the crook of you neck.

"I know, but I'll come see you at your next tournament after the triple-header!" he smiles, kissing against your neck your body relaxing against his.

"It's just hard, god I'm clingy!" you attempt to laugh the tears away.

"Lando wants to know if you and Y/BFF/N are down for a rematch" he smirks changing the conversation to a more light-hearted one.

"Oh you boys are so on!" you grin.

y/user

Liked by oscarpiastri and landonorris

y/user: Photo Dump from the boyf’s homeland! Love you Australia 🇦🇺

View all 278 comments

oscarpiastri: it was fun playing doubles with you and y/bff/n. Best you next time

landonorris: these guys are kinda good at tennis yo!

-> y/user: does the gold medal mean nothing to you?

-> landonorris: not really :0

-> y/user: well … Osc?

-> oscarpiastri: don’t involve me :(

Your Instagram Story Caption:

Double Trouble in Stralia 🇦🇺

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[cher-rei]

sparks— jamal musiala [ J.M ]

how rare and beautiful it truly is that we exist [saturn– sleeping at last]

pairing: jamal musiala x fem!reader

summary: it's the knockout stage for germany for the 2024 euro, and as usual you're there to support your boyfriend, accompanied by some bad weather and a bet to spice up the evening.

genre(s): fluff (as usual)

[w.c: 3.3k] masterlist

notes: I had such a fun time writing this shut upppp shsjssj. this one is for my musiala girlies xx

"this weather is going to be the death of me," you said and took your seat beside your friends sophia and aaliyah who were huddled together in attempt to defeat the crisp yet strong german wind.

you tucked your chin into your scarf, but even then it didn't help. the three of you actually remembered to dress warm for today's match, unlike the last few games where you whole heartedly believed that the rain was just an episode.

before leaving the house sophia had to remind both you and aaliyah to bring scarfs because she had a bad feeling. so here you were, at the stadium in dortmund dressed in a pair of jeans, a cream knitted jumper, and a wool jacket that unfortunately hid your football jersey with your boyfriend's name decorated at the back.

the stadium was bustling and you couldn't believe that supporters still came out to watch football under these conditions, but it was an important match and you were filled with just as much anxiety and anticipation as them.

jamal was all the more excited the evening before when he facetimed you from his hotel room. there was a twinkle in his eyes as he spoke to you about training and how his day had been and it just reminded you of how much you missed him.

sophia and aaliyah agreed with you in that department, understanding just how difficult it was to be separated from their partners this long. but the three of you managed (barely) and showed up to every match together to show your support.

needless to say, the media were having a ball with the amount of content and pictures that were published of the three of you every week. there wasn't any issue with it however and jamal quite liked the fact that he got to show you off, saying that the world deserved to know just how smitten he was with you.

it was about twenty minutes into the first half when you felt a drop of rain hit your hand, having nothing much to do besides groan and deal with it. so far, little progress was made on the pitch despite the three shots on target that germany had.

"good on denmark for putting up a fight, but I'd really appreciate it if they gave up so that we can go home," aaliyah joked and you fought back a smile, while sophia was sat in her seat with a torn expression.

there was a small pout on her lips and by that look you knew that she was worried about kai. her gaze was glued to his figure running on the pitch, mentally cheering him on. "I think the rain is messing with him."

you hummed and lifted your head to look at the darkened sky, your face scrunching at the sight of the heavier clouds blowing over the stadium. the wind had started to pick up now which made the experience even more uncomfortable but you had to endure it.

a smile tugged at your lips as you watched your boyfriend make his tackles. there was just something about watching him play that made you appreciate the sport more, it was enticing. "pure class," you said out loud with a boastful smile.

sophia jokingly scoffed at your comment which caught the attention of aaliyah who felt the need to tease her. "what are you scoffing for?" she asked with a smug smile. "kai missed two goals already."

your lips parted in shock, but you remained silent and proceeded to listen to them go at each other from each side of you.

"yeah, well at least he had the chance. remind me where flo is again?" sophia countered and you let a laugh slip out at the attack on florian who was on the bench.

the teasing didn't stop though, and it got to the point where you had to physically back away because they were both leaning over you to take a jab at the other. the roaring of the fans was soon interrupted by an even louder roar which you recognised to be thunder.

seconds after, the rain got heavier and it was pouring. you heard the whistle blow from the pitch and apparently the match officials were taking an intermission to check if the lightning would be an issue any further.

you felt sophia's hand slip into yours, the chill sending a shiver down your spine. the three of you were nearly drenched and if it was one privilege that you loved then it was the option to sit in the booth at times like these.

it was announced that the match would be suspended until further notice due to the weather ten minutes before half time and your head instinctively turned to look for your boyfriend, to check if he was okay before you got up from your seat.

"and this is our cue to leave," aaliyah said and led you and sophia through the rampaging crowd to the top of the stands where you'd be covered.

the supporters however were doing the exact opposite and rejoicing in the downpour— dancing and waving their flags in the air while some used it as a form of shelter. the sight was anything but ordinary and you couldn't help but bask in the atmosphere.

another boom of thunder sounded through the air causing sophia to jump up beside you, her grip tightening on your hand. the three of you looked up at the sky, awing in unison at the strikes of lightning flashing between the clouds.

there was only one thing on your mind, and it was the need to take a picture. you took out your phone and waited for the perfect moment, practicically spamming the button until it hit the perfect shot.

aaliyah awed at the picture from behind you. "you have to send that to me, that looks unreal."

after a few more minutes and pictures being taken you finally made it upstairs to dry off. both teams were in their dressing rooms as well, probably more scared than ever because of the match interruption. uncertainty hung in the air at times like this, where all they could do was wait.

the door to the family booth that the three of you were sat in just closed when someone opened it again. to no one's surprise entered kai and florian sporting two completely different looks.

sophia's eyes softened at her boyfriend's state, his hair damp and kit looking like it just took a swim. she hesitated for a moment to pull him into a hug for some comfort seeing as he wasn't having the best time on the pitch.

aaliyah on the other hand ruffled her boyfriend's hair and laughed, gaining sophia's attention. "see what being on the bench does? he's as dry as the sahara right now while kai looks like he just drowned."

from beside aaliyah, florian's jaw dropped in offence, at the mention of him being benched which quickly broke out banter between the two while sophia was still comforting kai and giving him some words of encouragement.

watching them interact made your heart swell, making you miss jamal even more. and as if you summoned him, your smiling but breathless boyfriend made his entrance and without time to spare he pulled you into a tight hug.

despite the chill in the air and his body, you were filled with a warmth that you've missed so much the past few weeks. so much that you could almost excuse his audacity to hug you when he was dripping from head to toe.

you pulled away with a smile. "j, did you see the lightning? I can't believe that it's summer right now."

jamal looked at you puzzled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "I came here to say that I missed you to the point of an enotional brekdown and you ask me about the lightning?"

your lips pursed at his counter but before you could defend yourself he pressed a quick but much needed kiss to your cheek. "we'll talk later, I just really needed to see you."

he looked up at his teammates who were leisurely enjoying their time with their partners, a look of disapproval on his face. "am I the only one who cares that we're playing an international knockout stage right now?"

"flo doesn't care, he's on the bench," aaliyah said and shot her boyfriend a teasing smile. "isn't that right babe?"

the german supporters in the stands all screamed in victory at the penalty that was given, and to no one's surprise kai was the one who was ready to take it and potentially put them in the lead.

aaliyah leant forward and looked at both you and sophia with a determined smile. "I think it's time for a bet."

a hum of intrigue left your lips at the idea but sophia shook her head. "he's going to get this in... I hope." she looked at her boyfriend who stood uneasily in front of the penalty area.

but a few words were exchanged between the three of you and an agreement was made.

"there's still 40 minutes left," she began and gestured to the pitch. "they're capable I'm sure, but whoever's boyfriend doesn't score has to pay for lunch tomorrow."

your eyebrows raised when she said "lunch". you knew very well that it wasn't just a meal. it consisted of breakfast, a trip to the museum or any activity really, lunch and supper. the loser would have to pay for the entire day, and it was no joke that you three were expensive.

aaliyah was more than confident in florian being subbed on and scoring, sophia was more uneasy than kai at the moment but had hope in her boyfriend, and you didn't really mind paying but you could never back down from a challenge.

the three of you shook on it and watched as kai got ready to take the penalty, everyone holding their breath in unison. it happened in a blink of an eye but the goal had sophia jumping up from her seat and clapping as loud as she could.

"guess I'm eating for free tomorrow," she teased and sat back down to which you rolled your eyes. aaliyah on the other hand shot you a competitive glare, causing you to laugh.

you eased back into your seat and shoved your hands into your coat pocket. "if jamal scores then I'll stand in the rain without my coat on, and if flo scores--"

"miraculously," sophia interjected which earned her a playful slap on the arm from aaliyah who quickly turned her attention back to you.

"then I'll have to? on the pitch?" she asked with her eyebrows raised and you nodded. she ran her tongue over her teeth and shook your hand, loving that you were upping the stakes and adding some more to the bet.

a good 10 minutes of no action went by and you were watching with immense focus, your gaze not trailing from jamal who looked breathtaking drenched in water, and without even saying anything sophia read your mind.

"they look ten times better with water dripping from them on the pitch, it adds something extra," she said bashfully and took her phone out to take a few pictures of kai since he wasn't too far away.

she then looked to aaliyah with a smug smirk. "obviously you wouldn't understand because flo is dryer than the sahara."

you covered your mouth at the retort about what aaliyah said earlier on. it seemed that the two of them never ended their playful banter, and you were always in the middle without complaining because it was genuinely so entertaining.

while they continued to talk, the universe gifted you with this perfect opportunity because you caught a certain someone's attention. he wasn't doing much on the pitch and you took advantage of the moment and gestured to the goalpost.

of course, jamal was confused but he was more than certain that you were asking him to score. he jogged on but kept his attention on you for a moment, and you gestured to the goalpost again, flashed him a loving smile and made a heart with your hands.

from beside you aaliyah let out a gasp. "that's literally cheating! you can't tell him to score."

you raised your hands in defence seeing as jamal had run off and continued to play. "I'm not doing this for me liya, I don't mind paying. and even if he does then I have to strip in this weather."

aaliyah shook her head at you, disagreeing with you wholeheartedly even though you tried to defend yourself. there wasn't much to say since you were being honest. "I told him to score because it gives him extra motivation."

now both sophia and aaliyah hummed unconvinced, to which you sighed.

"he just does better if I ask him to, okay? and he really wants that third goal, so if I ask him to do it then he'll do anything he can to get it."

it was practically scientifically proven (to you at least). jamal was always the type of person to do anything you asked him to, even before you guys started dating. all it took was a smile and he'd make sure that what you wanted was handed to you on a silver platter.

the devotion that he had towards you was unmatched, especially when it came to scoring or performing well on the pitch. no matter how he played, you always sat in the stands with a proud smile on your face and the appreciation that he was yours.

so even if he could barely see you from the stands, a simple gesture to the goalpost was enough of a tell tale that you wanted a goal. and if you wanted something, then he'd get it for you.

"and it's in from musiala!!!"

the german supporters jolted in their sears at the unexpected goal, rejoicing in the 2-0 lead and celebrating the clear advantage they had in heading to the quarter finals. you were the first one out of your seat the second the ball hit the back of your net, not minding the light drizzle hitting your face as you watched your boyfriend celebrate.

of course, he didn't forget about you and made sure to send a heart your way, one that you were more than happy to return. the adrenaline rushed to your cheeks in the form of a blush and looked at your friends with a smug smile.

they both sat in disbelief, their lips parted as you clapped. "I need that type of devotion in my life," sophia said and nudged your arm.

it wasn't too long that florian was subbed on for jamal, which was hilariously funny considering the context. aaliyah clapped with her lips pouted. "come on let's make it three for three, bench boy!"

both you and sophia burst out into a fit of laughter at her comment, and you swore that you saw flo turn to look at her with an expression that screamed "what the actual fuck??".

it was heading into the last few minutes of the match and despite flo having a few good opportunities, he took none of them. aaliyah grew frustrated from beside you, complaining about the incompetence of the players even though they did nothing wrong.

it was obvious that she was the one with the temper in the group, and that only showed even more when florian had a good run with the ball and she was practically sitting on the edge of her seat, screaming for him to kick it to which he did.

"yes that's what I'm talking about!" she screamed and hit her chest in victory. "three for three girls."

her moment of bliss didn't last long however because the referee blew the whistle for offside. she wasn't happy about that at all either and fought back a mouthful of curses. "what the fuck? how was the offside??"

the whistle blew for full time after a very eventful knockout stage, you and sophia adorning smiles while aaliyah was still complaining about the linesman not raising the flag sooner. the supporters started exiting the stadium slowly as the players went out onto the pitch.

the three of you weren't in any rush however, and made your way down leisurely. "at least you don't have to strip in the rain," sophia laughed and you rolled your eyes.

the rain did in fact start to pick up, and the light drizzle was lightly pouring now instead. you head out onto the pitch with them and started by removing your scarf and handed it to aaliyah who was more than happy to take it.

they watched with smiles as you took off your jacket, followed by your jumper to reveal the thin football jersey underneath. when they were happy with you, they headed off to their respective partners.

"you had one job! now I have to pay for lunch tomorrow!" aaliyah yelled as she approached flo who could've have been more confused. he threw his hands into the air at his girlfriend's outburst.

"thanks for the support I guess," he said and the two walked off to complain to kai and sophia.

for the nth time this evening you raised your head to look at the dark clouds hanging over the stadium, enjoying the feeling of the rain hitting your skin.

the moment of silence was interrupted by the feeling of someone tickling your side, and you turned to see your boyfriend who looked happier than ever.

"well done out there starboy," you said and loosely wrapped your arms around his neck while his hands took refuge on your waist.

he leant in to pepper your face with kisses, and you relished in the warmth you missed more than life itself. "when my girlfriend asks for something, she gets it."

your stomach did at least three flips at his answer and to anyone watching it seemed like this scene was straight out of a movie. seriously, you were standing in the middle of a football pitch in the rain. insane.

jamal pulled away to dry your face despite his sleeve being just as wet. "now can you please tell me why you aren't wearing a jacket right now, baby?"

your shoulders shrugged at his question. "I won the bet."

"huh?" he laughed at the absurdity and tried to make sense of what yoh had just told him, because in no way did it seem that being vulnerable in weather like this could be a reward. "and what did you win?"

you couldn't suppress the smile on your face, losing yourself in his eyes that felt all too close to home. "I won a very happy boyfriend."

the warmth of his hand cupping your cheek wasn't even registered until you felt his lips meet yours. the rain cascaded, each drop of rain that hit your skin being a reminder of just how real this moment was. how real he was.

his hands gently gripped your waist, and he pulled you closer for some extra warmth. the coolness of the rain heightened every sensation in your body— the warmth of his lips and his touch and the pounding of you heart against his chest.

and when the two of you finally pulled away, breathless but more in love than ever you were reminded to be thankful for moments like this. the rain continued to fall, but it no longer felt cold because all that mattered was the warmth of jamal as he looked at you with a softened gaze.

"we should kiss in the rain more often."

[keerysfreckles]

newsies — MV1 (smau)

pairing: max verstappen x musical theater fem!reader faceclaim; kara lindsay !

summary: when lando drags max to his favorite musical, max takes a liking to the leading lady

warnings: none!

a/n: this is 100% made for me, i can't shut up abt newsies or jeremy jordan... sooo why not combine my two loves (newsies and f1 😁)

masterlist !

⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚

yourusername just posted !

liked by jeremymjordan, landonorris and 11,037 others

yourusername NEWSIES OPENS ON BROADWAY IN ONE WEEK WHAT IS LIFE

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user1 tickets have been secured since last year IM SO EXCITED

user2 oh to get a hug from jeremy jordan 😞

jeremymjordan IM EXCITED ARE YOU EXCITED

yourusername I CAN'T SIT STILL JERE

user3 "jere" they're too cute 😭😭

mikefaist guess who has a front row seat 😁

yourusername MIKEEE 🥹🥹

user4 OH MY GOD ITS HAPPENING OKAY EVERYBODY STAY CALM

user5 oh i've been waiting YEARS to see y/n in a broadway musical

landonorris missing fp1 to be there 🫡

yourusername lando no that's your job??

landonorris not that important 🤷‍♂️ plus there's someone i want you to meet

user6 someone to meet?? another driver??

yourusername just posted !

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and 19,728 others

yourusername opening night, race weekend, and max picking me up from rehearsals! (eventful week if you ask me)

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user1 ABSOLUTELY LOVED THE SHOW!!!!!!!!

user2 y/n and jeremy being the power duo on stage IKTR!!

user3 lando looks like he's hating the rain 😭

user4 WAIT PAUSE WHATS MAX DOING THERE

user5 PICKING HER UP TOO??????

landonorris your fault i dnf'd ☹️

yourusername not my fault it was raining??

user6 WAIT WHAT IF MAX WAS THE ONE LANDO BROUGHT WITH HIM TO OPENING NIGHT

user7 oh your onto something

maxverstappen1 still can't believe you know how to tap dance AND sing at the same time

yourusername i'd say it's harder to be on broadway than it is being an f1 driver

maxverstappen1 no need to go around lying on social media sweetheart

twitter !

yourusername just posted !

liked by landonorris, jeremymjordan and 20,188 others

yourusername spent my time off with this guy, anyone know who he is?

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user1 he's so pookie ugh

jeremymjordan come back to new york ben and mike won't shut up about you (i guess i miss you too)

yourusername only if max can come too

user2 the duo i didn't know i needed

user3 okay but what's max's favorite newsies song 👀

maxverstappen1 i think he's a formula one driver, could be mistaken

yourusername thanks for clearing that up!

user4 max slowly becoming all of y/n's feed is so entertaining

user5 y/n and max the unexpected duo i didn't know i needed

landonorris you didn't hang out with me 😔😔😔

yourusername sorry max is just better company???

twitter !

yourusername just posted !

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris and 305,984 others

yourusername when f1 update accounts expose you and your boyfriend 😞😞

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user1 SO IT WAS THEM??????

user2 PLS THE CAPTION SHE'S TOO FUNNY

maxverstappen1 the secret was coming out sooner or later love

yourusername i know but now we can't soft launch ☹️☹️

user3 THE CUTEST COUPLE ON THE GRID

landonorris call me cupid 😏

yourusername no

maxverstappen1 no

user4 NEW BF MAX CONTENT IM SO READY

jeremymjordan proud to say i knew before twitter did 😁

maxverstappen1 just posted !

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 450,177 others

maxverstappen1 dating y/n means listening to the newsies soundtrack on repeat ❤️

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user1 THE MIDDLE SLIDE THEYRE TOO CUTE

user2 this had to mean max has a fav newsies song omg

jeremymjordan take care of her please

maxverstappen1 never plan on stopping

user3 y/n's bway bf 🤝 y/n's real bf

landonorris CALL. ME. CUPID.

maxverstappen1 still no

user4 THEY'RE MY EVERYTHING OMG

yourusername i don't think you can have your phone out in the theater sir 🤨🤨

yousuername but seriously you love the newsies soundtrack

maxverstappen1 i never said that

yourusername so what do you go to all the shows for??

maxverstappen1 my beautiful talented stunning girlfriend of course 😉

[rosesnbooks]

✨Leo placements✨

disclaimer: i am not a professional and i write this posts for fun, so keep that in mind love

☀️sun in leo - these people have big hearts and they love, love attention. however, i have noticed that even though some like attention most of the time, others prefer it in an environment they can control, such as on stage, where they have rehearsed and know about the possible outcomes. they like to take care of themselves and enjoy life. they also love to spoil those they love, and their love is bright and warm. most of them are very creative and especially talented in one domain that they pursue bravely, such as cooking or writing. people notice them wherever they go, and they seem approachable and a little intense. what i mean by that is they seem excited and loud, which is lovely but too much for some people. this isn't true for all of them though; some can be shy to a certain degree when you meet them. they love talking and making people laugh, and this fuels them. they need people in their lives and cannot spend too much time alone. some time is needed for retrospect, which they usually use. they hate failing because it impacts them greatly, but many of them try to process this and continue like nothing happened. unless it is regarding matters of the heart, then it takes more time to get over someone

🌝moon in leo - they like to see the best in people, and sadly many of them get disappointed with time, but there's a part of them that never gives up on people. they are very sensitive deep down and can get hurt easily. their ego truly is an issue, but if they recognize this and work on it, they can develop healthy relationships with others and themselves. they are very creative, and when they focus on their tasks and things they love, they can excel at them and don't stop until what they're working on is up to their standards. they are curious about many things, which is why they may start a hobby and then disregard it with time if their heart wasn't really in it. when they are angry, they can be really harsh and impulsive, similarly to aries, but i feel like they feel sorry about it more than aries because whatever they said to you remains ingrained in their memory. some of them tend to be selfish because their own happiness and worries are their main priority, which isn't bad per se, but it can get out of hand. they hate to waste time and feel like their life has no purpose or impact. i noticed that they have a competitive nature, even when playing games...they just love winning.

🌼ascendant/rising in leo - vibrant, brave, optimistic, and a bit intense people at first glance. they have a strong hunger for happiness and passion. people mostly like them, but some have mixed opinions since some can feel overwhelmed by their energy and self-love. nevertheless, many appreciate their lively nature, and they are easily noticed wherever they go. even if you don't see them momentarily, you'll hear them because they are often loud and like to talk. they might have issues with overindulging in things like binge eating or spending too much money. they can have a strong desire to lead, and if not, they still want to contribute greatly to something and see their influence. they put effort into their looks if they have the time and money because they want to present themselves in the best light (for themselves and others). people usually notice them by their hair, and i'd also like to add that their eyes are very sparkly and focused, and that they may have really quick mannerisms.

🌻mercury in leo - quite expressive when they talk! humor is important to many of them, and they love people who can make them laugh. many tend to speak fast as well. their comedic timing is really good. if underdeveloped, they can be bad listeners and only want to focus on themselves and when it's their turn to talk. they also tend to have a smile on their face most of the time when speaking, just my personal observation. people are charmed by the way they communicate; they cannot help but feel warm. this placement is really passionate about various topics, and it is interesting to listen to them. they often like telling stories, and it feels like you're watching a movie play out because they are really into it and dramatic. there's a lot of passion in their speech, and while it can be over-the-top for some, many enjoy it. honestly, they are so cute. a downside could be their stubborn nature, which may limit their worldviews or general views on some things. they may seem carefree, but they are not, so approach them with kindness and respect.

⭐venus in leo - they love romance and are very loyal and dedicated partners. they need lots of excitement and adoration in their relationship to remain happy. being with someone who takes life too seriously, doesn't praise them enough, and is not really active as a person is a big no for this placement. they love praising people and giving them thoughtful gifts and watching your face light up when you open them. you'll feel super special with them if they think highly of you. they can get crushes from time to time, but if they love you and want to commit, it is harmless. they are very loving toward their friends and are loud about their affections. basically, they adore all love languages, but primarily quality time, words of affirmation, and physical touch would be their top three (in my humble opinion). they also love going places with their loved ones because they have lots of energy and curiosity, and it's really fun to do anything with them. i'd also add that besides leo risings, i've found that leo venus also have curly or generally luscious hair.

♌mars in leo-very bold and a bit stubborn. they need to be active and pursue what they love in order to remain healthy and happy. they are go-getters and they love to spread their positive energy. their stamina is very good. despite their impulsive nature, they are very focused on their goals and try their best to be great. they often get what they want and might really dislike when things don't go their way, but they never give up. may be too stuck in their own ways without seeing the big picture or other perspectives, so they need to be more open-minded because this will help them achieve their goals and form healthier relationships. they are immensely proud of their achievements and especially of the things their loved ones achieved. they can get carried away by their passions, no matter how hard they try not to. their sweetness shines in this placement as well because they truly want to be friends with everyone. lastly, if you're their person, they will be extremely loyal to you

⚡saturn in leo—they may struggle with being more optimistic, putting themselves first, and taking leading roles in any area of their life. they can care too much about what people think or might think about them, so they need to snap out of it. they can be very strict with themselves and quit before even trying things out. just do it, hun; the only way out is through (sadly, but yeah). they are very capable people who already have everything they need within themselves, so trying things out even when scared can bring them lots of luck and, honestly, a better life. putting yourself out there doesn’t mean being vain, pathetic, or needy if you’re not hurting anyone in the process. this placement wants recognition deep down, but they remove themselves from such situations. i'm here to tell you that you’ll survive this and that you won’t lose your individuality in the process. you’ll gain confidence and naturally attract the people who are right for you. on the bonus side, they are often careful and responsible.

🏆jupiter in leo—people with this placement shine brightly when they are in the spotlight. they want to enjoy life and pursue their passions, and the happiness they feel during these moments is contagious. they are generous and inspiring, so many people admire them and feel influenced by them. their generosity is also admirable and fulfilling for them. they can thrive in creative environments and in those where they can express themselves. they are also often good with kids and expressing their childlike nature, which helps them enjoy life and see things more positively. basically, focusing on themselves and others is what brings them luck and joy. they have leadership potential, and at the end of the day, they want someone to recognize their efforts, kindness, and talent, and give them lots of love.

thank you for reading!💛🧡

©rosesnbooks

[woso-dreamzzz]

Allergies II

Hardersson x Daughter!Reader

Natalia Guijarro (OC) x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adeventures Universe

Summary: You have another allergic reaction

In all honesty, you didn't really think it was that serious.

Nutrition meetings at Barcelona were a lot more in depth than what you were used to at Arsenal. They took ages and were full of information that would probably be interesting if you actually cared but, alas, nutrition had never been as interesting to you as other subjects so you tended to just zone out.

You were handed a new smoothie with some kind of new protein powder in or something you would have known if you actually listened.

You drank it.

That's when things start to get weird.

The nutritionist continues to drone on and you frown, scratching at your neck.

You stare down at your bottle for a moment as your throat goes all scratchy and intense.

You force yourself to swallow before glancing around.

Your throat gets a bit tighter.

No one else seems to be having such a reaction so you unscrew the top of your bottle to peer inside. You sniff the mixture before standing up.

You can feel people watch as you make your way over to the first aid kit at the front of the room. Your throat has fully closed up now and you know that you're turning alarmingly red and probably breaking out in hives.

Honestly, you feel a little bit shocked how you're even conscious right now but you grab your epipen and stab it into your leg.

"Banana," You say plainly," I can't eat that."

Even with the adrenaline now pumping through your system, you slide your way down the wall to sit on the floor, breathing in deeply.

The room erupts into chaos the moment you sit down.

The medical staff come in to check your blood pressure and your throat and the expiration date of your epipen. The nutritionist leading the session is going absolutely ballistic yelling at one of her assistants for not checking the allergy sheets before making and handing out the smoothies.

Talia looks close to tears as she forces her way towards you, practically shoving some of the medics away. "Are you okay? Is it bad? Do I need to call your mums?"

"No! Don't call my-"

Talia's already gone out into the hall, phone pressed up against her ear.

You wonder which one of your mothers she has in her contacts.

Surely not Morsa because she's still in that stage where she's pretending to hate your girlfriend but you can't remember your Momma and Talia interacting enough to have swapped numbers and you know for certain that you weren't one to hand out people's numbers without explicit permission.

As the medics fuss and the nutritionist yells, the team also gather around to check that you're alright but you just give them a gallant shrug.

"I'm fine," You say," The epipen did its work."

"I think I'd prefer if you take the day off," The head of the medical team says," Just to be safe. You can come back tomorrow."

You know better than to argue with him so you just nod with a little sigh of annoyance.

"I can take her home," Talia says as she re-enters the room," I've got her."

"I can take a taxi home," You insist.

You and Talia drive in together so only one car is used. If you go home in that car now then she'll have to get a taxi in the middle of rush hour.

"I'll take you home," Talia says," Coach can spare me at training today. Someone's got to make sure you actually follow medical advice."

You roll your eyes. "I swear you've been hanging out with my Momma behind my back." You take the hand she offers to help you stand. "You sound just like her."

You end up back home fairly quickly, curled up on the sofa and practically forced to take a nap.

Prins joins you, curled up in the bend of your knee. Reina settles on the top of the sofa behind your head, completely stretched out and at ease with herself while Kung manages to wiggle himself between your arms to nap there.

You don't know how long you nap for but it must be a while because the sun is setting when you wake up and you can smell Talia cooking up your favourite pasta dish in the world.

You sit up.

You've definitely been sleeping for a while because Reina has migrated to her cat tree, poking her head out of the cave to watch Kung bounce around the floor in outrage at not being allowed up there with her.

Prins has taken Kung's place between your arms and his tongue rolls out of his mouth in a semblance of a dopey smile when he notices you awake, his tail beginning to wag happily.

"Hi, little man," You say, gently scratching between his ears," Did you keep me company?"

Prins' tail wags even more fiercely than before.

"Didn't want to leave your side."

You jolt, shrieking and Prins whines a little.

"Morsa! What are you doing here?!"

"Talia called your Momma," Morsa says, tucking the blanket more firmly around your body," Your allergies acted up."

"I dealt with it," You insist," You didn't have to fly out."

"Yes, we did," Morsa replies," Because if we waited for you to tell us, it would take weeks!"

You puff out your cheeks. "I wouldn't want to worry you over something so silly."

"Are you calling your allergies silly again?" Momma says. She enters with two plates worth of food and you sit up.

Prins leaps down to wander over to his own dog bed. Seeing him lying there, Kung wanders over, jumping up onto Prins' back to finish napping there as Reina ducks her head back into her cave.

"No, Momma," You mumble, accepting your food as Morsa takes a seat on the armchair and Momma to the left of you, leaving an empty space for Talia, who also brings out food for herself and Morsa before taking her own seat.

"Are you feeling better, mi vida?" She asks," You look better."

You nod. "I feel fine. My leg aches a little but that's expected."

"We'll put an icepack on it once we've finished eating. Prins was very worried about you."

Prins raises his head at the mention of his name, tail wagging.

"He's good boy."

Morsa grins from across the room. "I knew getting you a dog was a good idea."

Momma scoffs. "You told me that we should have gotten her a fish."

Morsa coughs to clear her throat and mumbles," Don't lie, Pernille."

"You wanted to get me a fish?" You laugh in disbelief," And you say Rocky is the most disappointing pet in the world."

"Are you really saying your pet rock is more exciting than a fish?"

"Am I?" You pretend to think for a moment. "Yes. Yes, I am."

[upsidedownwithsteve]

A soulmate AU: Steve Harrington x fem!reader [5.9K]

THE TIMELINE

"Oh no, you know you know I'd be lying if I said I wasn't dying, For someone I could die for, someone I could try for Fall apart and cry for, go 'head, risk my life for."

-Someone I Could Die For by Lewis Capaldi

II. ROME, ITALY: 49 BC

The roar that came from the bowels of the Colosseum never became easier to hear. 

The noise seemed to make the city shake, the streets empty, the market stalls abandoned in favour of bloodshed. The games took place in the summer, when the skies were an endless blue and there were no clouds to tamper down the climbing heat. The sun bore down on the sandy pit of the enormous Amphitheatre and the seats were filled, the doors that had already been closed still surrounded by regretful stragglers who were forced to listen to the chaos from outside of the walls. 

Fourteen men had died already, three from the jaws of the lions, two from the bears and eleven from the swords of other imprisoned slaves. The cheering from the crowd made your stomach curl. The floor of the stage was covered in red, the sand streaked with spilled blood and the animals that were bullied back into their cages had their jaws tinted pink. 

It wasn’t a joyous occasion, no matter how many people celebrated in the name of their emperor. The leader of Rome was sitting mere seats away from you, dressed in ruby robes that were slung like a cloak over his white toga and his laurel crown glinted with golden beads that sat tucked into the olive wreaths. He was drunk on wine and violence, and your father sat next to him in the royal box, ever eager to please as he clinked his chalice against his kings. 

Being the daughter of Rome’s most beloved senator certainly had its positives. You were dressed just as finely as the royalty around you, the fabric that was made to fit your frame swept to the floor and only yesterday, the emperor’s cousin had gifted you a necklace made of the finest gold, inset with glittering emeralds, pretty enough for a princess. 

The same cousin smiled at you from across the row, each seat in the royal box made from plush velvet, the high backs ornate and cushioned, unlike the stone carved benches the rest of the civilians were sitting on. You smile back, uneasy but polite, and your father nodded approvingly. 

You were expected to marry, you knew that much. You were already considered too old to be unwed and you knew the rest of the court whispered about how you would now struggle to bear a child. But the man that was expected to be your husband wasn’t who you loved. He wasn’t unkind, he wasn’t cruel - not like you’d heard men could be. The girls in the kitchen would tell you stories of how their husband made demands. Shouting each night for their meals, their baths, how their shirts weren’t stitched right, how their beds would lay cold because their wives were too tired. 

Some men visited the bath houses, you knew that much. Seeking out a lupa for the night, the ladies that were called she-wolves, with their painted lips and robes that showed so much skin. Some men decided that they didn’t need to listen to their wives at all, you were once told, horror etched on your face. Some men took what they thought they owned. 

So no, the emperor’s cousin seemed kind enough. But you weren’t in love with him. You weren’t sure who you were in love with. A dream, perhaps. One that kept returning to you from a young, young age. A dream about a different town, one you’d never been to before. But in your sleep, it felt like home. White buildings and green gardens with tall, tall trees and pretty, ornate gazebos made of stone on the edges of shallow ponds. You were by the sea there, a blue-green ocean that seemed so calm. 

Sometimes monsters came, the marble statues that guarded the city came to life and turned your dream into a nightmare. There was always fire and fury, storm clouds and too big waves and a man with skin the colour of death would try and take your hand. But even when the dream turned bad, there was  always someone else.  

A man, with a blurry face and a mess of almost too long hair. It hid his eyes from you and you could never make out too many details but you burned when you looked at him, you could weep when he touched you. Sometimes he led you through the burning town, his hand clasping your own as you both tried to run and run and run. 

Other times, you lay in a bed with him, skin bare and your head on his chest as he murmured the sweetest poetry to you, words that made your heart race. Your dream was encased in white linen sheets, a hazy, soft light that always made it look like early morning and when the man’s lips met yours, you always woke up. 

Him. You loved him. 

You hadn’t been in love before, but whenever you dreamed of the stranger, you were sure that must have been what love felt like. 

“Have some grapes, darling,” your thoughts were interrupted by your father as he thrust a plate of fruit and cheese under your nose. 

But the fifteenth gladiator was being dragged through the gates by the armpits, a clawed hammer still sticking out from his chest and your insides turned over at the idea of eating such sweet treats as blood poured from the men in front of you. The emperor’s box was almost nauseatingly close to the fights. 

You shook your head before you remembered your manners, smiling politely and murmuring, “I’m quite alright, thank you.” You blew out a breath, shaky and faint. 

From your other side, one of the young girls who had been gifted to you on your sixteenth birthday waved a giant fan. A large peacock feather, a huge plume of colours that merely wafted the too warm air back and forth but you smiled your thanks at your lady in waiting, a pretty girl who’d turned into a prettier young woman. She was small and lithe, angular in the face with curls that came to her sharp jawbone and she smiled back. 

Nancy, as she’d introduced herself to you a week after she’d arrived at your fathers house, from the Wheeler family of Liguria. She didn’t like the gladiator fights anymore than you did, always murmuring about the rights of the animals and how inhumane it was later in the night as she drew you your bath. 

“—from Verona,” your father was saying with a mouth full of provolone. “One of their best, so they say, His Majesty simply had to have him.”

You blinked, frowning in confusion at your fathers words. You hadn’t been paying attention in the slightest and nothing you’d caught made any sense. “Sorry?” You grimaced apologetically and took a few pomegranate seeds from the plate of food in apology for your rudeness. “Who is from Verona?”

Your father rolled his eyes, a sure sign that you’d be lectured in his study later for your lack of respect. “The next gladiator, child.” He gestured to the stage where the soldiers were locking the gates to the tigers, each big cat growling with menace when the men came too close to the bars. “They say he’s unbeatable. Our Highness offered a more than generous helping of coin for his papers but Verona’s general didn’t seem to want to part with him.”    

You frowned again. The crowd seemed to be aware of this man and his presence, murmuring and shifting in their seats in anticipation. “If that is the case,” you prodded. “Then how is he here? If the gladiators… owner—” the word left a terribly bitter taste in your mouth and you felt heavy with guilt when Nancy’s fan brushed your shoulder. “If his owner didn’t want to sell him?”

Your father snorted, an unattractive sound that made Nancy wince beside you. “No one tells the emperor of Rome ‘no’, dearest.” Your father shrugged. “The gladiator cannot be owned, if his owner is dead.”

Bloodshed. Always bloodshed. 

A man came from the east side gates with chains around his ankles and wrists. You couldn’t quite see him for your seat, not yet, but the crowd above and around you roared, eager for the final fight to begin. The man already looked beaten and tired as soldiers stepped forward to unlock his manacles and you sat forward in your seat for the first time since you entered the Colosseum that day. 

He had messy hair, dark brown and hanging just past his chin. It was already damp looking, matted and dirty from being kept god knows where as the emperor's new toy. He was shirtless, his body lean but corded with muscle. He had wide shoulders and a lithe waist, powerful thighs and skin that was tanned from the sun, a sure sign he spent too much time outside, training hard in the Italian heat. 

As he moved closer to the middle of the stage, you saw the marks on his body, leftover scars and new slices in his flesh that still looked viciously red. The crowd got louder as a sword was thrown at his feet, a large, heavy looking thing with a bronze handle. Some cheered for the new warrior, hoping for some excitement, while others jeered and booed, already too attached to their darling reigning champion. 

The gladiator picked up his sword and the crowd became wilder still, but he gave them no mind. He didn’t put on a show like some of the others, he didn’t flex his muscles or raise his weapon like it was already a prize. His leather loincloth was a deep wine colour, the tan leather pleats looking far from newly made and the material was already streaked with blood and dirt before his first opponent arrived. 

Your heart felt heavy for him, as it did for all the others who were forced into the Colosseum - prisoners, slaves and animals alike. You watched the gladiator flex his wrist, testing the weight of his weapon just as the gates in the west cranked open. 

Rome’s current champion strode out from the shadows and into the bright sun, his bare chest glinting with sweat and Hargrove held his hands aloft, grinning as the crowds went insane. He beat his chest, his long blond hair pulled back into a ponytail and when he was handed his own sword, he wasted no time in running towards the new fighter, the steel blade glinting. 

You gasped, moving closer still to the edge of your seat and you couldn’t find it in you to bear much mind to the looks your father and Nancy shot you. It wasn’t like you to take such an interest in the sport, never mind be so heavily invested. You didn’t like to watch the wounded, preferring to close your eyes when the screams began, hiding cowardly behind Nancy’s fan when the blood turned the sandy stage pink and red. 

But this new gladiator, he was fast. 

He dove at the last second, dodging the tip of Hargrove’s blade and he rolled towards the section where you sat. Dust kicked up from the move, his sword tearing into the wreaths and sashes that hung from the Emperor’s box. You grasped the edge of the wooden frame, peering over the side and down to the stage, hoping to not see blood already. 

Instead you found the gladiator looking back up at you, his sword still in his grasp and when his eyes met yours, they widened. Something like recognition hurtled through you, a feeling that sucked the breath from your lungs and you felt dizzy, like lightning itself had struck you from the sky. You thought the man perhaps felt the same, a frown on his face telling you that he felt just as confused as you did. 

But before you could consider where on earth you could have possibly seen his face before, Hargrove attacked again, bringing his blade down to where the gladiator's shoulder should have been, if he hadn’t rolled once again. 

You were on your feet now, the stares of your father be damned. Your eyes were wide, your heart beating far too fast, like you yourself were on the stage, being hunted for sport. Wood splintered into the space under your nails as you watched the man run, his muscles pumping, his eyes narrowed. 

“Darling, are you quite alright?” Your father placed a hand on your arm, more confused than concerned. 

“Yes, I just— yes.” You cleared your throat and sat down again, albeit back to the edge of your chair. You could feel the rest of the royal party staring at you. “Where did you say the man was brought from? The new gladiator?”

“Harrington?” One of the Emperor’s councilmen interjected. He pointed a pudgy finger at the brown haired gladiator, who was now swinging his sword with as much power as Hargrove. “Steven Harrington of Verona, best of his breed I heard. His general didn’t take too kindly to the King’s offering and well— you know what happens when his Highness is made to feel upset.”

The metallic clink of the swords filled the arena as everyone held their breaths. Not many had lasted this long against Hargrove before. 

“Rumour has it that he didn’t take too kindly to his general being beheaded. Took six men to get him into the back of the cart, even more to make him train. He’s been refusing food all week.”

The idea of it made you feel unwell, a sickly, creeping kind of pain curling around each of your ribs and suddenly you were starving, just as much as you were sure the man would be. But still, I didn’t seem to make him move any slower, it didn’t hinder him in bringing his sword down any harder. 

But strangely, every time the new gladiator was struck, every time his knees hit the raw sand, every time he got close enough for you to see him suck in a gasping breath— you felt it too. 

It was a battle like you’d never seen before, more vicious than the others from that day, a showdown under the blazing heat of the high sun. No tiger seemed as powerful as Steven Harrington of Verona did. There was something animalistic in the way he moved, all power and lean muscle, a steely glint in his brown eyes that you didn’t dare look away from. He moved too quickly for Hargrove’s blade, dodging and diving as he flung up sand, blinding his opponent and slicing at his legs. Each move was a blur, the stage bleeding with fresh red, the blonde gladiator on his knees. 

But Hargrove was ruthless, grappling with the newcomer until they were both wrestling in the dust cloud and the crowd went insane, people chanted and stomped their feet, the amphitheatre shaking down to its very bones. The imperial box quaked with the energy, but truly, you weren’t present enough to feel it. 

Your eyes never left Steven’s fighting figure. 

The swords seemed to be forgotten, the steel blades rusted with blood, both fresh and new, and they lay in the sand. Fists flew, knees pressed to chests to keep the other down and it was brutal, it was harsh, it was deadly. 

You wanted to vomit. You feared you might. 

You wondered what would happen if you leapt from your chair, if you let your skirts get torn and bloodied in the mess of the stage, if you threw yourself down onto the sand and begged for Hargrove to take his hands away from the new gladiator's throat. 

Would you be punished? Beaten? Locked away? Killed?

You weren’t sure but somehow, all the options felt worth it. You couldn’t watch this man die before you. Not when it felt like you’d already witnessed his death before. 

But Steven wrestled himself out of Hargrove’s hold, twisting and tumbling whilst he gasped, one hand clutching at his reddened neck and the other grappling for his blade. He swung it through the air, arching wide, his wounded shoulder ripping with effort it took but the sword landed where the warrior intended it to. 

Silence settled over the colosseum, the air still enough for you to hear the surviving champion heave out gasping, heavy breaths. There was blood on his hands, his chest, his face. 

His right eye was already bruising, red and lilac coming to the surface of his skin like fresh blooms in spring. His shoulder was a mess, his right leg causing him to buckle slightly as he rose to his feet.  

The man turned, jaw slack, his sword falling limply to the ground once more, his opponent still and at his feet. His eyes found yours and time stilled, at least, to you. The crowd erupted, an explosion in its own right, the entirety of Rome cheering for their new champion. 

A man you were sure you already loved. 

By the time the fight had ended, you felt beaten and bruised. There were no marks on your skin, no blood seeping through your gown, but something inside of you hurt all the same. It felt like something was clawing at your heart, a memory that was banging on the front of your skull, screaming at you to remember. 

When the guards dragged the gladiator from Hargrove’s limp figure, he dropped his sword to the sand and spat a mouthful of blood towards the ground at the royal pit. The Emperor merely chuckled as others around you gasped and before you could even hear your fathers protests, you were on your feet. 

Steven Harrington was shackled once more, the metal chains clinking around his hands and feet. And as he was led away back into the arches, the gears of gates making an awful protesting noise, his eyes found yours once more. 

A burning gaze, too intense to look away from and you could’ve sworn on the gods, on the stars above, that something inside of you tugged sharply. Like the pull of a string, tied in a bow between your ribcage, urging you forward. 

Telling you to go. 

So you did. 

You gathered your skirts in your hands and made your way to the exit of the box, too focused to hear your fathers objections until the guards at the doorway halted you with their spears. The wooden stalks crossed themselves over your chest and you froze, the string tied to your heart pulling tighter and tighter and tighter— 

The Emperor was staring at you, with cold eyes and a smile that wasn’t really a smile. He spoke to your father, not you. “Where, my dear senator, is your lovely daughter running off to?” The king turned back to you, brows raised. “Doesn’t she know that more wine will be served soon? My cousin is looking forward to her company.”

Your father stared at you, a stricken expression on his aged face because everyone in the royal box could read between the lines of the Emperor. 

You cleared your throat, eyes still trained on the sharp metal points of the spears that were very much in your face. “Forgive me, father - your highness - I was merely hoping to get some fresh air.”

“The sight of all that blood makes her rather delicate,” your father agreed and the crowd of councilmen, generals and their wives tittered in their jewels. “She isn’t one for conflict.”

The Emperor stared at the side of your face, something you could feel despite bowing your head in his presence. You stared at the floor and waited, heart racing. 

The royal tsked. “What a pity,” he declared but he waved a hand, each finger heavy with golden rings, and his soldiers stepped aside. “Be back in time for the parade, child, you have company to entertain.”

The Emperor’s cousin leered at you, his wine glass empty, his lips stained ruby but none of it mattered right now, not when you were taking off once more, skirts dragging across the dust and sand, your chest heaving as you tried to navigate your way through the crowd that was already dispersing. 

More guards, heavily armoured and with their swords drawn, were too preoccupied with a fight that had broken out between the arches, two lower class men arguing over a coin they found on the ground. Taking your chance, you moved with your head down, your face hidden as you slipped through a door that was normally carefully watched. 

The heavy wood slammed shut behind you, the sunlight swallowed whole. Burning torches lit the narrow corridor, a maze of them leading you underneath the Colosseum. The hypogeum was almost damp as you tried to navigate its many walkways, a gasp leaving your throat as you took a wrong turn and ended up face to face with the iron bars that separated you from the animals. 

A huge tiger growled at you, bloodied teeth bared in a snarl, the stench of raw meat and faeces hanging in the cool air. You backed away, eyes flickering from cage to cage, each one filled with another poor creature. Lions, bears, a rhinoceros and its offspring, and beyond them, an even larger cell holding prisoners. They all stared at you, men and animals alike, but nothing was spoken. 

You backed away, unable to breath, turning on your heel and walking quickly enough to spot the familiar grey robes of the healers used after the battles. You followed, your steps light, and watched him enter a small room. Between the door opening and closing, you spotted the gladiator perched on a wooden table, his head bent low and his face hidden behind his damp hair. 

You weren’t sure what possessed you, but before you barged into the room too, both men staring at you from the table where the healer held a ragged cloth to the gladiator’s shoulder. 

“Miss, you have no need here,” the healer announced, his voice strict and cold. He narrowed his eyes as he gestured to the door. “This is no place for—”

“My father sent me.” It was a lie, of course. A bold and bare faced one at that. But you stood a little taller and lifted your chin, the emerald necklace at your throat shining in the low light that came from the small fireplace in the corner. “The senate has questions I’ve been asked to deliver. I shall not leave without the appropriate answers.”

On the mantle, beside bottles of acids and other medicinal vials, sat a small statue of the goddess Veratis. Her marble eyes seemed to judge you and your lies and you swallowed down the bitter taste it left on your tongue. But looking at the man - this stranger from Verona - the need to speak to him, to be alone with him, was overwhelming you to the point of senselessness.  

The trouble you could be in if you were to be caught in your lie… or worse, down in the hypogeum. This was no place for a woman of your standing, never mind to be alone with a gladiator, both of you unspoken for. You could feel your heartbeat in your throat. 

“If we may have some time alone?” You added with more authority than you should have held. “Unless you’d prefer that my father leave the Emperor’s side to ensure his orders are fulfilled?”

The healer sighed but placed down his tools. He flashed you a smile that was all crooked teeth, more bite than kindness, but he made his way to the door. “That won’t be necessary, My Lady,” he told you and he left, closing the wooden door behind him. 

The silence was a deafening thing. The crackle of the fire was still there, the distant roar of some poor, wounded animal, but whatever was held between the two of you took on a life of its own. It seemed to suck the rest of the world into it until there was nothing left but you and this man. He was staring at you still, brown eyes wide and so familiar, looking as confused as you felt as you stared right back. 

It felt too easy to take a step forward, but the warrior flinched. Your next was slower, softer, more cautious. Your hand found the rag that the healer had once held, what little water it had been soaked in was cold, the material harsh. It didn’t take you long to find a new cloth in one of the drawers of the apothecary table and you took your time to warm some fresh water over the hearth. 

Honestly, you didn’t know too much about medicine, only the basics that your father’s head servant had taught you as a young child. You found the small bottle of alcohol with ease, plucking it from the shelf and adding it to the warm water before soaking the new rag. 

You held it up in offering to the man, still far enough from you that his dirty hair hid most of his face. His tanned chest was streaked with sweat and dust, marred with old cuts and fresher wounds from Hargrove’s weapon, but for the most part, he seemed okay. 

“Can I?”

The gladiator lifted his head then, his hair falling away from his cheeks and you took in a sharp breath at the sight of his face. He was handsome, painstakingly so, but over and above all else, he was someone you were sure you knew. 

The man nodded, just once, lips pressed together and as you came closer, his nostrils flared and his large hands gripped the edge of the table. His eyes raced across your features, recognition coming to the surface and before he could ask the questions that were clawing at his throat, you lifted the cloth and pressed it to the cut on his shoulder. 

He hissed, teeth bared and you frowned, hushing him softly, apologies murmured just as quiet. “I’m sorry,” you told him and gods, he knew you meant it. “I need the alcohol to soak the wound.”

Your heart stuttered when he let you, shoulders tight and back ramrod straight, but his eyes were on your face the entire time you worked. “You’re not a healer,” he said. It wasn’t a question. 

His voice rung through you, a deep timber that was hoarse and scratchy, no doubt from refusing to speak since his capture. You hoped he’d been drinking enough water. 

You shook your head as you pulled away, dipping the bloodied cloth back into the bucket. “No, I’m not,” you confirmed. 

Another swipe at his skin had him jerking in response but the blood and dirt was finally clear of the cut. It would need stitches, you were almost sure of it, but your skills started and finished at the basics. 

“Then why are you here?” The gladiator’s eyes were trained on your necklace, a sure fire way to recognise nobility and you were overcome with the urge to rip it from your throat. “Why did you follow me?” He spoke like he already knew the answer. 

You were hesitant about it, but you couldn’t stop your hand from lifting to his neck, fingertips brushing two beauty marks on his skin. They felt electric under your touch and you were impossibly warmer now, despite the old cell lacking the heat from the summer above. 

“I feel like I know you,” you whispered. Your voice cracked with an emotion you didn’t quite know the name of. “I feel like I’ve mourned you.”  

The gladiator looked back at you from behind his damp hair, the long strands matted with his and his enemies blood. He didn’t look as concerned as he should have been at your strange words. In fact, he leaned into your touch, lashes fluttering at the sensation. 

“What an odd thing to say to someone who hasn’t died,” he answered quietly. But his gaze roamed over your features and something about being so close to him felt cosmic, it felt like a catastrophe waiting to happen. “I think I’ve met you before,” the gladiator whispered. He sounded reverent now, his own hand shaking as he brought it to your face. 

He cupped your jaw, your chin, his rough fingertips trailing over your soft skin and when his thumb dragged across your bottom lip, you gasped and pressed closer. 

“I think I meet you when I sleep,” he said and he frowned at his own words, at how confusing he must’ve sounded. “Every night, when I close my eyes. You’re in a garden and then you’re in my arms.”

Flashes of a bed came to mind, white linen sheets and too much bare skin. A man’s chest, tanned and muscled from hard labour, your hands that roamed the expanse of his back. You remembered how he kissed you in your dreams, with a longing so intense it could waken the gods. 

Like he had enough love for you that he could end the world. 

You could only nod. His thumb was still pushed to your bottom lip, your mouth parted as if you were waiting and his stare was so intense you felt warmer than you had in the stadium above. 

Who was this stranger?

And why did it feel like something inside of you was being stitched back together by the sheer sight of him? His touch felt healing, it felt like home. Like it was only made for you to feel. Like he was made only for you. 

Above, something boomed. Loud enough to be heard underneath the hypogeum, over the roars of the unsettled animals. If you had been outside, you would’ve witnessed the blue sky turning grey, shades of moody lavender and navy, storm clouds rolling across Rome from seemingly nowhere. 

Thunder rumbled,  threatening noise, something that made you and the man move closer to each other, like you both knew you were in danger. 

That you knew something bad was coming. 

“I don’t understand,” you said, eyes blurring. You weren’t sure why you were crying but Steve didn’t seem to question it. He merely swiped away the tears that slipped down your cheeks. “You’re a stranger— we’ve never— we’ve never met.”

Despite your words, the gladiator moved closer, standing from his seat on the wooden table to lean his forehead against your own. Your eyes slipped closed, nose bumping his. He smelled like metal, like blood and dirt and sweat but underneath there was something like fire there, like molten iron, like lavender fields and fresh cotton. Like a daydream, like something you weren’t sure was real. 

His bottom lip touched your top one, only just, only barely. A whisper of a kiss, a small insight of something that could’ve been, of something that maybe once was. 

Thunder rolled again, louder than before, as if it was right above you both. Even over the din of the crowds above, you could hear the heavy patter of rain that was now flooding the colosseum, the stage soaked. Another warning, something you’d seen before in a dream just before it turned to a nightmare. 

“I was meant to find you,” Steve murmured. He had your face cradled in his hands, an overwhelmingly gentle touch despite the dried blood under his fingernails. His voice grew in urgency then, like he knew something was coming. Someone. “I was meant to come here. I can feel it. I understand now.”

“Someone once told me you’d come back,” you suddenly remembered, your voice eager, your eyes wide at the memory. “I don’t know— was it you? From before? From—”

From another life, you wanted to say. 

How ridiculous those words were, how silly, how stupid. But there wasn’t any other way to explain. Logic didn’t seem to exist when everything you felt from this touch of this stranger led you to believe that somehow, someway, you’d spend a lifetime together. 

Like you were supposed to spend this one with him too. And it didn’t seem long enough, decades wouldn’t make up for the time you’d lost searching for him, for this stranger who only came to you in your sleep. But he was very real now, solid flesh and bone underneath your own hands, brown eyes that seemed warmer than the Italian summer. 

You didn’t want to let him go. 

“In here, my King,” a voice interrupted. The door was open and the healer had returned, a cold look on his already stern face. The Emperor was behind him, ruby robes collecting dirt from the old floor. Four soldiers flanked him. “I have every reason to believe the Lady sold me lies, Your Highness.”  

It happened too quick. Too fast. 

The Emperor studied you, Steve’s hands still on your face as you stood too close, ready to kiss, ready to fulfil something neither of you were sure of. It felt catalytic. 

“Seize him,” was all the Emperor said, one lazy flick of his wrist sending all four guards at you both. 

There was too much movement in the tiny room, bottles of medicinal wares clattering to the ground and smashing at your feet. The table groaned as Steve was shoved into it, his own reactions too slow from his injuries. He grunted and reached for you too late, his hand slipping from your own, fingers barely touching, as he was shoved at from either side. 

One soldier shoved the butt of his sword into Steve’s wounded soldier, the other bringing his armoured knee into his bare stomach. The gladiator doubled over, a gasp leaving his chest before he fell to his knees on the stone floor. 

“Stop this!” You yelled, urging forward, trying your best to throw yourself into the mix of it all but someone’s arms - another soldier - caught your round the middle. “Unhand him! Your Highness - please - he hasn’t done any wrong, please—”

The Emperor just looked at you blankly before he picked at the jewels around your neck. He tutted, as if it were a shame, a waste. You could hear the shackles being placed back on the man, the low groan he gave as the metal was tightened around his sore wrists. 

“He won,” you whispered, your voice low and choked. You were ready to beg. “Please, he won. He doesn’t deserve this—”

“I don’t like anyone else playing with my toys,” the Emperor interrupted. He said it like he was discussing what to have for lunch. “And my dear cousin doesn’t like anyone playing with his.” He motioned to the guards once more. “Take her back to her seat, where you make sure she stays. This isn’t any place for a Lady,” he told you mournfully.

You didn’t get to see what happened to the gladiator as you were escorted out of the room. But you did hear his yells when the door slammed shut, the dull thuds of impact that you were sure were on his already bruised and broken body. You hadn’t even told him your name, or that you dreamt of him too. That during your worst night terrors, he was the one that saved you. 

When you reached the imperial box once more, your skirts dirtied from the sand, your face tear stricken, you felt broken. Like you’d been snapped in half, like someone had found that wound Steve had stitched up and pulled it apart again the seams. Like someone had ripped something important from you, half of your heart, perhaps. 

You didn’t even notice that it had stopped raining. The skies were blue once more, the sun shining, the only evidence of the sudden storm were the drops of rain that had soaked into the pillow on your chair. 

Steve was gone and the thunder was too. 

[hannieehaee]

18+ / mdi

content: toxicbf!seungcheol, more like possessivebf!seungcheol honestly, he's kinda a dick but not THAT much, jealousy, possessive behavior, afab reader, reader mentioned to be shorter than him, smut, penetrative sex, public sex, oral (m receiving), etc.

wc: 2201

a/n: tysm to the person who requested this <3 i didn't make him super toxic but more possessive and annoying.

masterlist

"shit, baby. you look so good. any plans tonight?" seungcheol hugged you from behind as you stared into the mirror, doing the finishing touches on your hair.

'"what do you mean if i have plans? we're going out. to the monthly meeting with the guys, remember? seokmin's girlfriend said she's coming too"

"hmm? since when? wait, hold on. you're wearing that to dinner with the boys?"

you groaned against him, "you literally just said i looked good. what's the problem?", you already kind of had an idea, but wanted to confirm for some dumb reason.

"yeah, that's when i thought you were going out with the girls or something. do you have to dress like this when you hang out with the guys?"

you knew cheol was a bit on the ... possessive side. he would sometimes be a little too jealous when it came to you being around the guys too much (around any guy, really). despite always confirming to him that you would never look at any of them as more than friends, he would still keep his guard up. it was endearing at times, seeing as it was usually just lighthearted jealousy, but he was doing a really good job at pissing you off right now.

you turned around, now facing him directly, "what's that supposed to mean?"

"baby, cmon! they're guys! and you're ... well, you're you!"

"did you want me to repeat myself or are you actually gonna explain what that's supposed to mean now?"

"listen. you're so beautiful. i had no chance at resisting you when we first met. imagine if i'd met you while you were wearing a tiny little black dress. i would've lost my mind. they're men, baby. they're weak-minded. i dont wanna let them even see you like this." despite the stupid neanderthal logic he was feeding you with, his reasoning gave you a slight ego-boost, dissipating your annoyance a bit.

you approached him, grabbing onto the collar of his shirt as you adjusted his tie - today's theme for the monthly meeting had been strictly formal, courtesy of a hong jisoo – and stared into his eyes, flirtatious smile gracing your lips.

"cheollie ... the dress code's formal. and i know how strict you guys are about that. if you can wear those stupid leather pants on stage while performing for carats, – who, by the way, do wanna fuck you – i can wear a tiny little dress around my very platonic friends."

you were pretty sure seungcheol had tuned you out already, at least judging from how distracted his hands had become now that they were kneading your ass under the short skirt of the dress. in any other circumstances you would've entertained him, maybe even let him fuck you before leaving home, but you weren't about to reward his stupid comments from earlier with sex. separating yourself from him, you chided at him, telling him to get ready, because you'd be leaving together; with no need to change your clothes.

~

upon arriving to the restaurant of choice - an entirely rented out luxury restaurant joshua had seemingly been eyeing for a while - you and a sulky seungcheol (he had brought up the dress issue again in the car) quickly spotted a table full of people. it was all twelve members of seventeen, plus joshua's and seokmin's girlfriends, who would also be making their debut appearance at the monthly dinner. as expected, the boys were all wearing suit and tie, while the girls had dresses on. you had to admit, maybe yours was a bit more provocative, but you felt comfortable since you would only be around close friends.

the moment they spotted you walking in, jeonghan took the liberty of standing up, looking you up and down before smirking and giving you a quick hug, even going as far as pulling out a chair for you to sit. you appreciated the gesture, taking a seat and thanking him, completely ignoring seungcheol's annoyed grumble along the lines of 'i'm supposed to do that'.

the dinner went pretty okay after that, with one or two complimentary comments directed at your apparel. you'd also noticed a few of the boys staring a bit more than usual, but you'd dressed up, after all, so it wasn't very surprising to you. seungcheol, on the other hand, grew more and more annoyed every time a member directed themselves to you, even if it was with innocent intentions. he had built an idea in his head that everyone mustve wanted you the way that he wanted you. it also didn't help that you were sitting right by jeonghan and mingyu, members who were renown for being a bit flirtier than the rest. you knew it was just in their nature, and completely meaningless when directed towards you, but you could feel your boyfriend's fumes increase next to you as the night went on.

after a while seungcheol had begun to speak over you, acting as if you couldn't respond or interact with his members on your own. he was beginning to show his annoyingly possessive side, acting overly overprotective over you, almost as if you were a prize to keep under lock and key.

there were only a few instances in which he did this. he could sometimes act like a dick about it, wanting to show the rest of the guys how you were his and no one else's

then came what broke the camel's back. yoon jeonghan must've sensed some tension in seuncheol's behavior, adding two and two and figuring out that his possessive friend must've been feeling some type of way at any attention headed your way. so, he decided to have fun with it, amping up his flirting.

"shit, have i told you how beautiful you look tonight?," he smirked, eyeing his friend a bit as he complimented you.

"yeah, but maybe don't say that to my girlfriend, yeah?", interjected your stupid boyfriend, hand on your thigh as he attempted to show possession over you.

you ignored him, "oh, thanks hannie. you look really handsome too."

he puffed, as if out of breath, also ignoring cheol's comment, "no, but really. that dress is ... man, all i know is if i were seungcheol we wouldn't have even left the house tonight," the smirk wouldn't leave his face, knowing he was poking a bear.

those two simple comments were enough to get seungcheol to snap, loudly getting up and interrupting any other conversation going on at the table. without any other word, he completely ignored any questioning stares or inquiring comments and grabbed your hand, dragging you from your own chair and pulling you away from the room and into a more secluded area of the almost-empty restaurant.

"seungcheol what the hell are you doing?!"

he turned to you, now letting go of the hand he'd been pulling, "i told you not to wear that around them! do you think i enjoyed that?!"

"it's just jeonghan, cheol! he doesn't mean anything by it. he was just trying to tease you."

"i dont care about that! you're mine. you're not supposed to show yourself off like this to other men!" the fact he didn't see issue with what he was saying was peeving you off, making you scoff at him before he continued.

"you're mine, okay? and you responding to han's flirting is not helping me get that point across to them."

"you-"

"no, let me finish," he moved closer to you the more he spoke, eventually having you pinned against the wall of the restaurant, looking down on you, "i won't have any of them even think they have a chance with you. no one does. you're mine. is that understood?" by now his lips were just a hair away from your ear, heavy breath fanning against you as his hands slid onto your waist, pulling you against him, dick already semi-hard under his slacks.

you hated the way he was talking to you. kind of. an embarrassing part of yourself was keening on his possessiveness, enjoying how he felt as if he had to stake claim over you. as if even one look from another man had him having to show the world you were his and his alone.

when he unglued his lips from your ear and went back to staring down at you, eyes flicking down to your lips, neither of you could help yourselves anymore. you might've kissed him first, but it was probably him who crashed his lips into you first, almost swallowing you whole as he attacked you by shoving his tongue in your mouth.

he became intense with his movements pretty quickly, unbuttoning his pants with one hand while the other harshly felt you up. he disconnected his hand from you for a moment in order to pull down his pants and knead at his cock for a few moments, getting himself ready for you.

he disconnected your lips, chuckling at the way yours chased after his, "get on your knees."

with zero type of dignity, you got on your knees with no question, beginning to slide your hand up and down his dick before wrapping your mouth around his tip and sucking, giving him eyes as you did so.

he groaned at the sight, but quickly recovered, barking out a command for you to be a well-behaved girl and take it all in your mouth. you followed instruction pretty quickly, loving the weight of his cock in your mouth.

"that's it ... knew you could be a good girl after all."

"fuck ... that mouth is all mine, right baby? only for me to choke on my cock .."

"take it deeper, i know you can. trained that pretty mouth to take me."

his words were getting you wetter by the second, moaning mindlessly against his dick as he began to thrust into your mouth, groaning out even more expletives.

he suddenly pulled you away without allowing you to suck him into completion, once more slamming your back against the wall and shoving his tongue in your mouth. you both groaned at the feeling of his taste in your tongue, eventually making the kiss become a mess of wet tongues just licking at one another while he ground his hard dick against you.

you cried against him after a while of dry humping, feeling the heat of his cock so close to where you wanted him, but your mind being too empty for you to even beg for him to put it inside you.

he pulled away, "are you gonna be good and let me have that pretty pussy? my pretty pussy?"

all you could do was nod and whine against him as he pulled your panties aside, only having to lift your dress a tiny bit to give him room to enter your warm walls. you both sighed out in pleasure the moment he entered you, with cheol quickly finding a rhythm that had you throwing your head back against the wall, not caring for any pain you felt at the impact.

"you're mine. do you understand that? no one else can have you. can't even look at you. tell me you understand." he paused for a moment, smirking as he knew you had no way to respond with the pace in which he was slamming himself against you, "what? no answer? baby, what'd i tell you about being a good girl?" he was mocking you now, relishing on the effect he had on you.

"c-cheollie ... y-yours! just yours! won't ev-ever look their way again. pro- ah! promise!" you did the best you could to muster out an answer, being too high on pleasure from the way his cock was repeatedly hitting against you, impaling you completely.

your emotions were already very heightened, causing the two of you to be quick to reach your ends.

"gonna fill you up, okay baby? and you're gonna keep it all in, or else imma have to take you home and do it all over again, yeah?" he groaned out, knowing he was about to blow his load any second now.

"y-yes! fill me up, please!"

a few thrusts later and he was burying his head in the crook of your neck, groaning out at the feeling of your walls tightening against him as you came.

you attempted to catch your breath as seungcheol used his fingers to push in any cum that exited your hole, moving your panties back into place to try and retain the most he could. with no warning, he shoved those same fingers in your mouth, making you suck his essence from them as he groaned at the sight.

"c'mon," he gave you no time to catch your breath or recover before dragging you by the hand once more, walking back to the table to pick up your coats.

"i'm taking her home now. yoon jeonghan, i'll deal with you later," and with that he dragged you away, making no effort to hide your disheveled state as you limped behind him, beyond embarrassed all your friends knew what you and your boyfriend had been up to.

if cheol had wanted to make a public service announcement about how much you were his, he had achieved it.

[juyendraws]

[Limbus Company] Faust’s Development (or Lack Thereof) in Intervallo 6.5

So Murder on the WARP Express came out and uh… The suspicions I had regarding Faust’s future arc ended up being confirmed. Faust is definitely not reaching out to the truth. I didn't expect the seeds for her story to be planted so soon, but here we are. It’s real. And you're probably thinking, “Uh… WTF are you talking about?” Let me explain to you what I mean.

The message of Library of Ruina is a critical part to understanding what's going on in Limbus Company. I will tell you straight-up here and now, absolutely nobody in the fanbase knows what the hell LoR is actually about. Nobody. And it is such a shame, because it has such a great message that absolutely nobody talks about. I'd love to tell you much more about it, but that involves long explications on Jungian Psychology, the Jewish Kabbalistic Tree of Life, and the story itself, which I don't wanna subject you to yet (I am saving my esoteric lore dumping for the video scripts I’m currently working on). What I will tell you, however, is that the lessons learned by Angela and Roland in LoR are all about opening oneself to everything that is possible in life. The ways in which they do this are:

(1) To listen to one's inner world, or intuition. Don’t just blindly believe whatever someone else says. Follow your own inner voice. 

(2) To listen to one's outer world, or reason. Don't just believe whatever you want to believe. Look at the facts and be receptive to others' opinions. 

That's all you need to know for now about this particular subject. The theme of opening oneself to infinite possibilities is one that carries over from LoR to Limbus Company, and it is present in every Sinners' story. Literally all of them were/are limiting themselves in one way or another due to their flawed beliefs. And each of them is on their own journey of self-realization, or in Jungian terms, “individuation.”

The Mirror Worlds also expand on this theme. They provide infinite ways of looking at the same subject, which sounds wondrous and exciting at first, but it really just reflects what's already there. Remember Yi Sang's and Heathcliff's arcs? For Yi Sang, the Mirror reflected his already-existing potential, while for Heathcliff, the Mirror reflected his surrender to a perceived fate. Mirror World Identities may offer additional combat prowess as well as insight into the characters/worldbuilding, but they end up being quite limiting due to their usage (basically “cheating”) and very nature (as "reflections"). 

Moreover, Goethe's Faust was something that repeatedly showed up in my research on Jungian Psychology. I kept finding Faust's story referenced in articles, academic journals, as well as the book I'm currently reading called Man and His Symbols. This book was written by Carl G. Jung and some of his most trusted followers, and it legitimately explains what Project Moon's mindset was while forming the world and stories of their games (I am not even exaggerating. I have to constantly pause my audiobook and write down notes on what I'd just read because it keeps indirectly revealing PM’s intentions for the series). Anyway, in one of Joseph L. Henderson's chapters named “Heroes and Hero Makers,” he talks about how the archetype of the hero cycle is represented in many stories. An aspect of this archetype essentially revolves around the “hero vs. villain,” or in Jungian terms, the “ego vs. shadow.” The hero must face off against the dragon and triumph. It’s about the development of consciousness through the "ego" (awareness that one exists and has an identity) mastering and assimilating the "shadow" (the parts about ourselves we don’t like or don’t acknowledge deep down). This archetype exemplifies the stage that’s supposed to take place during childhood and adolescence—it’s about growing up. If the hero fails to slay the dragon, i.e. a person fails to assimilate their shadow into their psyche, they become stuck in this state of immaturity. Henderson uses Faust as an example:

“One can see this theme, incidentally, in a well-known literary hero figure—Goethe’s character of Faust. In accepting the wager of Mephistopheles, Faust put himself in the power of a “shadow” figure that Goethe describes as “part of that power which, willing evil, finds the good.” Like the man whose dream I have been discussing, Faust had failed to live out to the full an important part of his early life. He was, accordingly, an unreal or incomplete person who lost himself in a fruitless quest for metaphysical goals that failed to materialize. He was still unwilling to accept life’s challenge to live both the good and the bad” (Man and His Symbols, page 121). 

Henderson is saying that Faust is reluctant to face life’s hardships, so he lets his unconscious aspects—his shadow, or Mephistophiles—control what he does because it’s easier for him to live that way. And as a result, he remains this underdeveloped, immature person. 

In Limbus, Faust’s shadow is Mephistophiles, the reflection of her inner pride and desire to learn more. The knowledge she gains from the bus, her ability to communicate with her IDs, is incapacitating her ability to develop as a person. She’s using it as a crutch. And her overreliance on this knowledge, ironically, reveals how truly ignorant she is. The literal shadow cast in Faust’s E.G.O is her IDs for these very reasons—she is afraid of not knowing what to do.

Anyway, the reason I brought up LoR’s message and the Mirror Worlds earlier is because it is very, VERY relevant to Faust’s arc. Each of the Sinners need to reach out to all the possibilities of life. To not just blindly follow their own beliefs or the beliefs of others, but to see the truth through their own eyes, unclouded by bias. Through her use of the Mirror Worlds, Faust goes, “Well, I’m already reaching out to all possibilities! I’m following my intuition and using reason!” And she technically is, but it’s paradoxical. She is using intuition and reason… But it’s all through the use of her IDs, which are both “herself” and “not herself” at the same time. So she’s still just blindly following her own beliefs and the beliefs of others; she’s only listening to her own opinions and copying down what others say to her, all at the same time. 

I noticed this while rereading key parts of the game again. In Episode 6-25, the Sinners discover the researchers’ experiments below Wuthering Heights. Faust was utterly oblivious as to what their goals were, and Dante commented on how odd her behavior was when she finally started talking.

Later in Episode 6-44, she urges them to find out who informed Erlking Heathcliff about the Mirror Worlds, causing them to pick up on the fact that she doesn’t actually know everything.

In Episode 2 of the 3rd Walpurgis Night, Faust freezes up when asked by Dante to give a more detailed explanation on the Library. She then gives soft confirmation that she is, indeed, in cahoots with her IDs.

Murder on the WARP Express spilled everything. As a result of being separated from Mephistopheles, she is forced to be without her IDs and must figure things out on by herself. Her complete cluelessness regarding what to do demonstrates her lack of any true life experience. She acts like a newborn baby attempting to walk. However, while she is clueless, she is not helpless. She, in fact, does have the potential to grow if she puts her mind to it. Faust exhibits curiosity, ingenuity, and amiability when she must undergo the trials of the WARP train incident.

She takes interest in the perspectives of the other Sinners when asking for help. She is able to discover new things and problem-solve by herself.

Faust can learn on her own and make friends if she really wanted to.

...Unfortunately, she falls back to her dependency on Mephistopheles at the end of the story and closes herself off once again.

Faust refuses to experience any pain that could otherwise spark a realization about herself. She is harming her ability to form relationships with others, as she habitually ignores them or prevents them from giving her advice. She actively denies herself the chance to truly learn about the world and come to her own conclusions—she is impeding her own personal growth. 

Out of all the Sinners, Faust is probably the least developed as a person. Yi Sang, Ishmael, Heathcliff—even those who are about to undergo or are still undergoing their arcs such as Don Quixote, Rodion, or Meursault—are fully-formed people. Faust is not. She is still stuck at the stage of having evolved ego-consciousness while everyone else around her is already achieving the Self. She's worryingly far behind. It’s honestly really sad to watch. 

I was debating on whether or not I should make this post for a few reasons. For one, I’m unable to read Goethe’s Faust at the moment, as I am still preoccupied with my research on Jungian Psychology and Jewish Mysticism for the previous two PM games (Lobotomy Corporation and Library of Ruina). I didn’t want to say anything too specific about Faust’s story until I read her book. Secondly, this topic is really difficult to explain without delving into the Jungian elements in the PM universe. I felt I would end up confusing people if I just came out of nowhere with this post; I initially wanted to speak more about the foundational elements before anything else. 

Nevertheless, I feel that this knowledge I had on Faust, Jung, and PM’s lore was relevant enough to share. I was SHOCKED at how accurately I had predicted Faust’s future character development. The only other person I told this to was my younger sister, and I said, “Faust basically found a loophole through the lessons Angela and Roland learned in LoR. She’s only believing whatever she wants to believe, while also only believing what other people tell her. She’s using Mephi and her IDs as a crutch… I think that’s why she’s alone a lot of the time.” AND I ENDED UP BEING RIGHT. I had to stand up multiple times while playing through the Intervallo with my sister because of how excited I was at this. 

Murder on the WARP Express demonstrates that a good understanding of the games’ themes and of Jungian literary analysis is absolutely essential to figuring out each Sinners’ arc in Limbus. Deciphering, for example, the specifics of Faust’s connection with Gesellschaft is not-so-much valuable as having a strong grasp on what aspects of her character PM is trying to explore. “What is the text communicating? How does it relate to Jung’s ideas? What is the lesson this character is meant to learn?”

That is what matters at the end of the day. 

[kayhi808]

First Crush -12

It was an epic battle of wills, Abigail Rose vs Mama. Abby needed to go down for her nap, but she didn't want to. You understood. Today was so much fun. So many new things to see and do, but you also knew what a grump she could be when she's tired and fussy. You also knew she'd be staying up late with the fireworks and you didn't want your exhausted baby ruining it for anyone.

"Pleeease, Mama! I don't wants to. I don't wike it." Your baby's eyes fill will large tears.

"You take naps after lunch everyday. Today is no different," brushing her hair off her forehead.

"No, Mama."

You had walked off further into the picnic area, pulling a blanket out of her backpack, so she could nap outdoors and still be at the fair. "It's your choice, do you want to nap here, back at Bucky's place, or we can go straight home." Abby stomps her foot. "When you wake up from your nap, we'll go back to playing. We can do face painting. How would you like that?" Abby shakes her head & her tears start to fall. "You can be a bunny and I can be a piggy."

"NO!"

"Hey, don't yell at me Abby."

"I don't wike you!" Bucky sees you flinch at her words. She pulls away from you and runs to Bucky, "I don't wants to nap. I's not tired. Please Bucky." Her little hands swiping the tears from her chubby cheeks. Bucky looks like a deer caught in the headlights.

Sternly but quietly, "Abigail, come here. Now." Abby doesn't leave Bucky's side. "I said, now."

She cries louder, but waddles back to you. You hold her hands & tilt her chin up so she's looking at you. "I'm your Mama. Not Bucky. You listen to me. You want to get Bucky into trouble??" Bucky gives you a mischievous smile. You squint a glare back at him.

"N...no, Mama."

"If I tell you no, you don't go to someone else and ask them. I already said no. Doing that is bad."

"I's not bad girl."

You gather her onto your lap, "No, you're not a bad girl. You made a mistake, but now you know that's not a good thing to do." She sticks her thumb in her mouth & nods.

"I sowwy," she mumbles around her thumb.

Bucky walks over and lays at the edge of the blanket, "Maybe we should all take a nap." Abby gets up and lays next to Bucky on her tummy. You settle next to her, rubbing & patting her back. She's facing Bucky but after a few minutes you look at him and mouth "Is she sleeping?" He nods.

"I'm sorry she came to you like that."

"It's ok." He rolls over onto his back, looking up at the sky.

"You were going to be a sucker and cave."

Bucky chuckles, rubbing his chest, "I would have. I'd give anything for her not to look at me like that."

"My baby isn't stupid. She knew who the weakest link was," you quietly laugh. Bucky grabs a handful of grass and tossed it at you.

"You're a good mom. It doesn't look easy, but you make it look effortless." Bucky sees a tear slip from the corner of you eye, disappearing into your hairline. "Doll?"

You turn, giving him a sad smile. "Thank you. Half the time I don't know what I'm doing. I'm so scared of messing up with her and having her grow up to hate me."

Bucky jumps up & pulls you to your feet so he can hold you. "You know she didn't mean what she said. She was angry." Music from the stage is playing and he sways back & forth with you. You get in a good little cry, disguised as dancing. "She's so lucky to have you as her mom. And she adores you! You've raised a happy child."

"Except at nap time."

"Today is a one off."

Raising on tip-toe, you kiss his cheek, "Thanks, Buck."

*******

While Abby sleeps, you and Bucky enjoy a couple dances. He runs away to grab you ice cream sandwiches, saying you earned it. You both finish quickly in case Abby wakes up. It's your little secret. Natasha and Steve drop by saying they'll stay with Abby if you and Bucky wanted to enjoy the fairgrounds together. You're unsure about leaving Abby. "Doll, she's safer than anyone here. She's got Captain America and Black Widow watching over her. 30 minutes and we'll come back." Bucky grabs your hand and you let him lead you away.

You return to the midway games and challenge each other to, basketball, water guns, bean bag toss, shooting gallery, and anything you could find to compete against him. You collected your tickets so you could return with Abby to redeem them later.

Bucky picks out a pair of fairy wings for Abby. "Are you serious?"

"Does she already have a pair of wings?"

"No, but..."

"Think of how cute she'll look when she rides her unicorn later. Oh, were you going to get her wings?"

Laughing, "I didn't win that many tickets. I was going to let her choose new story books."

He wraps his arm around your neck bringing you in for a kiss. "See, perfect."

*****

Abby woke up from her nap so excited to see everyone there. Steve had gotten her some "banoons" which she loves so much. And then Bucky showed her her fairy wings and she went crazy. She had to put it on immediately! Poor Steve got one-upped again.

Throughout the afternoon, their picnic got bigger. Clint and his family joined in. Tony, Pepper and Morgan visited. Abby and Morgan became fast friends. They played in the jumper house, and rode the mini train together. They sat through getting their face painted, turning them into 2 little kittens.

After dinner, Abby wanted a dance party so you danced with your baby. Thankful this time she didn't give you instructions on how to "shake it" like before. Your little ringleader got everyone dancing. One of her favorite songs comes on and she tries to get Bucky to sing it with her but he doesn't know it . She only likes singing the chorus.

Me-e-e, ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

I'm the only one of me

Baby, that's the fun of me

Eeh-eeh-eeh, ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

You're the only one of you

Baby, that's the fun of you

And I promise that nobody's gonna love you like me-e-e

You shake your head at your 3 year old Swifty shaking her bottom so her dress swishes. She smiles up at you with so much joy. No one is going to love her like you do. She's your world.

The fireworks are about to start. Abby has only seen them on videos and TV. Pepper gave you an extra pair of earplugs for Abby. She oohs and ahhhs along with everybody else. Bucky puts her on his shoulders so she could be closer to them. She wanted to catch the sparkles in her hands.

You make you way back the the Residence. Abby is chatting non-stop about everything that happened today. It was a struggle to get her to wash the face paint off. You blamed it on Bucky. You told her that if she got his pillows all dirty he might not invite them back. She quickly consented to scrubbing her face.

Bucky offered to read her a story while you showered. When you got out of the bathroom, Abby was sound asleep. "She didn't even make it 5 pages in." You trade spots while he cleans up.

He leaves the bathroom with his wet hair, flopped over his forehead still looking handsome as ever. He sits on the couch, pulling you to straddle his lap. Your lips immediately seek his. His hands on your hips bringing you flushed against him. A soft moan escapes you both. His tongue glides across your lower lip seeking entrance. Which you eagerly grant. Your fingers threading through his hair at the nape of his neck. Your tongue teases his and his fingers creep under your shirt palming your breasts.

"Mama?!"

Bucky tosses you off him and into the corner of the couch. You laugh at his panicked expression and surprised at his strength. "Yes, baby?" You get up and go to Bucky's room. Abby's sitting up in the middle of the bed.

"This not my bed."

"We're spending the night a Bucky's house, remember?"

"Can yous sleeps wit me?" Reaching out with grabby hands. Sighing, "Of course."

@waywardhunter95 @wintrsoldrluvr @rebeccapineapple @ordelixx @onceithough @crazyunsexycool @thezombieprostitute @ilovetaquitosmmmm @julvrs @unaxv @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @winterslove1917 @ozwriterchick @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @mrsnikstan @hisredheadedgoddess28 @itsteambarnes @otterlycanadian @purplecolordeer @samsgirl93 @buckitostan @blackbirdwitch22 @littleredwolf @mcucatlady @silas-aeiou @hzdhrtss @florie1 @thecubanator2 @enchantedbarnes @selella @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @cjand10 @pancake-05

Bucky tucks you both in, and drops kisses on you. "We'll figure something out," he whispers in your ear. You smile and nod, pulling Abby against you as she tries to sleep.

Uncle Steve

[missmayhemvr]

Like halfway through "how Europe underdeveloped Africa" cause I decided I'd read/listen to it after I had a strong base on knowledge on African history and just holy fuck is he right about nearly everything so far.

Having learned about how extensive African trade was prior to the 18th century and how heavily most African kingdoms shifted in the 16th it's very clear that what he points out in the way the slave trade and the need to aquire firearms grew the European economies while near completely emptying out African economies and how the hard shift to European import goods after Europe had grow through the use of African slave labor and monopoly of trade routes is still a largely still at play in the era of neocolonialism.

The way that Walter Rodney not just points out that this is true, but the depth to which he covers a variety of African kingdoms, their economies, and cultural practices puts even some college level courses to shame while also showcasing the exact ways in which some of these stronger or more expansive kingdoms like the Ashanti, oyo, borno, Kongo, and Benin kingdoms had explicitly tried everything to get guns through any other trade and how the Ashanti, merina, Ethiopian, Burundi Benin kingdoms sought our education and scholars to begin industrialization and the systematic way in which Europeans and Americans prevented that is just, well it's damming.

It's a continuing reminder how from the first stage of European expansion and control they had precisely zero good intentions for the peoples of Africa. That Europe saw Africa as nothing more than a way to grow itself, it's institutions and improve its economies by depriving Africa of labor, materials and freedom which is true to this day, most starkly in the Congo but true across the whole region.

But while the book shows the crimes of Europeans without sugar coating, it also doesn't glorify the African leaders and more importantly those that became collaborative with European despitism. It also does not abide by the word games the European powers like to play and goes in depth to the way Europeans had no actual interest in ending slavery, and that while invading the various kingdoms and communities to "end slavery" the created some of the most brutal slave conditions on this side of the globe, not just in Leopolds Congo but in French forced labor camps and British controlled regions, with the Portuguese being particularly up front about it.

Truly a shame that like most other black radicals Rodney was murdered so young. The rarity to which black radicals even get to 40 shows how desperately capitalist and white supremist try to prevent even the slightest push back from black voices. It also makes clear how much we all need to know this stuff, from debois's black reconstruction to nkrumah's neoimperialism these books give a great understanding of the past and the precise way in which we arrived to the current situation.

I pray that with the new scramble for Africa that is unfolding in front of our very faces, the genocides in the Congo, and Sudan, and the way in which these interlock with the genocide of Palestinians, that we all take the time to properly read and reflect so that we may properly organize and fight back for a fully free and sovereign Africa and Palestine and a world free from white supremacy.