#grecian music

[juno-stuffs]

day 15+: dragons

httyd kinda

ody's based on hiccup and athena's based toothless (ha)

[hatchi-matchii]

Reunion doodle :)

[marchentraume]

No matter what they’re my winners tonight

[grecianfilipina]

The serotonin I get from certain songs in musicals does not last long enough

[anewbrainjughead]

when i was 11 this was my phantom of the paradise. alw's magnum opus kinda.

[accessant]

This weeks art.

[chronic-escapixt]

A Deal with the Devil (Part 2)

witch!Kai x Bennett!reader

content warnings/tags ~ Minors DNI, 18+ ONLY, Dark fiction, smut, dubcon, cnc kidnapping, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, squirting, fluffyish- aftercare, mean!Kai

word count: 2.7k

summary: the aftermath of a deal you made with a certain sociopath means you're his personal play thing

A profile like that of a grecian bust of the divine, pink lips that draw your attention with every biting word, each feature you know well enough to sculpt from memory yet you stare at him like it's your first time. 

Eyes a chaotic shade of stormy blue fit with a sinister glint when he catches you, lips curling upward into a smirk. The cocky bastard.

You fluster, a fleeting itch in the back of your throat makes you cough and you curl into the cool glass of the window, trying to focus on anything other than his presence. His chuckle reaches your ears even over the car radio. 

That's when you notice you’re getting further away from any familiar scenery or landmarks. All you can think about is if you’ll ever be seen alive again. It’s not like it’s completely unreasonable to assume the self-admitted sociopath is taking you to your final resting place. Not, of course, before torturing you to the content of his sadistic little heart. As of now, he seems to be most content with simply humiliating you.

You barely register the melodies of pop radio over the racing of your own heart. Kai mutters something about modern music being absolute garbage before flipping indiscriminately between the stations and turning it off altogether so that you sit in silence. 

Before you know it, you’re standing in front of an apartment door, his key in the lock but he keeps you pinned in place with his body, caged in from the side by his bicep. At this point, it’s comical, the idea of running. You tried that before, and you didn’t get far before he caught you. Whether he used the magic still clearly at his disposal or his brute strength alone, you were trapped and any resistance was futile at this point. 

The key turns and you audibly swallow the lump in your throat. He ushers you inside with a firm hand. The door shuts on what’s likely your best chance at survival and you watch as he places the keys on the ceramic holder. 

“Welcome to my humble abode.”

It’s a relatively nice place, small, but modern, oddly cozy. Not really the torture chamber you expected. 

“This is actually your place?” 

“According to my lease it is. What were you expecting, a subterranean lair? Or an abandoned laboratory?” he jeers at you with a short laugh. 

“Well, yes.. sort of, but this is a pleasant surprise.”

His smile falters, “do you actually think I’m some comic book villain?” 

“I like your place, Kai. I really do,” he glances skeptically, “it looks nice. I’m just confused as to why am I here?” 

There’s a pause. He doesn’t say anything. Then he claps his hands together like he just got an idea and brushes past you into the nearby kitchenette, sectioned off from the rest of the space by an island.

“Well, I’m glad you like it. Mi casa es su casa, so just make yourself at home.” Completely bulldozing over your question. just like Kai to keep you in the dark just to watch you squirm. 

He snatches a jar from the cupboard, immediately digging in by collecting the sweet jam on his fingertips. Your eyes follow the hypnotic path of his hand from the jar to his lips. That same hand that captured your body in the library, kneaded your flesh so firmly he surely left his  fingerprints in their wake. 

Dammit. you’re staring again. It’s beginning to be pathetic.

“..when.. can i.. go back to my home?” you ask with many pauses and marked hesitancy.  

He hums and ponders the idea while sucking the gooey berry preserves from each digit, “you can go… when I’m done with you.” His final word punctuated with the smacking of his lips. 

“What does that mean? I have a life, and people that care about me.. they’ll be worried if I don't come home…” 

Your words quiet to a whisper when you catch his gaze change into an icy glower. It seems you’ve struck a nerve, though unintentional, you can’t find your next ones fast enough to walk it back before he lashes back in contempt.

“Who? Bonnie and the gang? If they really cared, don’t you think they’d at least try to call and find out if you're still alive— let you know they’re coming to save you? I mean, Elena must’ve reunited with them by now and told them about your daring sacrifice.” 

It was clear as day that you wanted him all to yourself. There was nothing sacrificial about it, even if you didn’t want to admit it. 

Your cellphone started to burn a hole in your pocket. It hasn’t wrung once since you left, nothing, not one notification from anyone.

“Maybe they think you’re dead already or here’s a thought, maybe you’re not as high on their list of priorities as you might think.”

His words cut deep, each laced with enough venom to paralyze you. Who could blame them if they didn't care? You were the one who was dumb enough to release Kai from his prison in the first place— unleash untold danger on your friends. You can say he tricked you and lied but maybe you chose to ignore the red flags. 

Despite everything, you’re still in love with him, and that’s a betrayal of your friends. 

He doesn’t love you or anyone, and if you’re honest with yourself, that’s the worst part.

“Look, I’m just saying we’re not so different. I know what it’s like to look like a failure in the eyes of everyone you care about, to want to prove yourself..” He’s tending to the wounds he just inflicted moments ago. 

“That's not true,” you mutter but even you don’t believe that. 

He gives a nonchalant shrug while cleaning his sticky hands with a damp rag, “whatever you say, princess. I personally think that with my guidance you could be a rather ruthless little witch. Then what everyone else thinks about you won't even matter.” 

Your head felt like it was spinning. “What are you saying?”

He leans forward, his nose nearly bumping yours across the counter, “Call me generous, but I feel like I could offer you so much more in this deal..”

“Kai.. I-”

“Oh, hold that thought, babe!” He looks down at his watch. “I'm cutting it really close.. I have to go.” He rounds the counter and throws on a nearby gray hoodie. 

“Where are you going?” You follow behind.

“I have.. something to take care of and I’ll probably be a while so don’t wait up for me. Oh, and in the meantime, there’s food in the cupboard if you get hungry, you can watch tv— there’s so many channels these days and maybe take a shower— clean yourself up so you can get out of those cum-soaked panties, hmm?” 

That last part made you self-conscious, rubbing your thighs together and feeling slick with the juices he drew from you in the library, that mixed with the cum he ruined your cunt with spilling into your panties as you speak. 

He moves fast, snatching his keys back from the ceramic holder as he heads for the door. 

“Kai—” you call out after him. 

He waves you off, shooting you a quick “buh-bye,” before slipping out, the door shutting in your face, the resounding click of the automatic lock trapping you. 

That’s when your phone vibrates. You eagerly pull it from your jacket pocket, only to find a junk notification. no word from Bonnie or the gang. Kai’s words echo in your mind. You debate calling her, but you can’t bring yourself to face her and let her know you’re willingly here with the devil so you shoot her a quick text instead at least letting her know you’re alright and not to worry.

You hop in the shower, not before putting your clothes in the wash. You throw on one of Kai’s t-shirts from his closet and curl up on the couch where you flip through the channels to find something to distract your ever-racing mind. You find one of those throwback channels and nod off to a marathon of Baywatch.

It's way past midnight when you’re jolted awake by the door opening. Kai hurries in and turns on all the lights. 

You get up and find him at the kitchen island where he has a bottle of champagne and searching the cabinets for the glasses. 

“C’mere, celebrate with me,” Kai waves you over. 

“Celebrate what?” you ask, plopping down on the bar stool, still rubbing your eyes.

“I won,” he muses, placing the twin glasses in front of you.

“Won what?” 

“The merge, dummy,” he rolls his eyes.

You look down grimly, remembering the merge, and what that means, “So, Jo is..”

“No— no, Jo is fine. Luke on the other hand, is..”he clicks his tongue with the wave of his hand across his throat, “dead as a doornail, in fact.” His eyes momentarily go distant before resuming the task of finding the bottle opener. 

You’re confused, “what do you mean? you merged with Luke? but how? he’s not even—” 

Kai shrugs, “hey, I don’t know the logistics, but I do know that your precious Jo is still alive.. for the time being, and I can make my own magic, so I won’t need to siphon it outta of you. Aren’t you a lucky girl?” He opens the bottle and tops off your glass with sparkling wine.

“So, I guess you won’t need to keep me around anymore…” you try to sound relieved, but your eyes betray you. You won’t meet his, focusing only on the liquid swirling in your glass. You didn’t want to be his magic bag or hostage, but something about being near him again has made you miss the time you spent together and the intimacy you shared.

Kai smirks. “I did what everyone said I couldn’t.. and even after all they did to stop me, they couldn’t stop the inevitable and now I know they’re more afraid than ever.” 

You scoff, “Sure, if being feared is what you’re into then, congrats, you’re the new bigbad of Mystic Falls.” you raise your glass before downing the wine with one bitter swallow. 

“Well if I’m the new bigbad, what does that make you? The damsel not-really-in distress?” Kai extinguishes your attitude when he leans in closer, caging you against the island, the rasp of his voice dripping with sex, “You’ve known me long enough to understand I like being feared, especially by the likes of you. The more I mess with you the less you try to fight back. I think it's because some weird part of you craves it.” His eyes drink you in deeper than the wine, appreciating how sexy you looked with nothing but his t-shirt hanging on your body. 

In one motion he catches you off guard and you drop your glass, shattering it all over the kitchen tile as he scoops you up and places your ass on the countertop. Your shirt bunching up around your hips when you scramble back with a surprised whimper.

“Kai, what are you doing!”

“That wine was shitty. I need something sweet to take away the bitter taste on my tongue..” he growls like a feral animal, yanking you closer, closing in on your bare pussy, his trembling target.

“Any reason you’re not wearing any undies?” He cocks a brow. 

You bite your lip hard, the tickle of his breath already sending you into a hazy nervous ramble, “I don’t have any other clothes here and your boxers were too big. i-i just put my clothes in the wash.. they’re probably done so i’ll go put them on—” he grips you harder when you try to get up.

“That won’t be necessary.” His eyes hold an unbreakable focus.

Bold licks follow the length of your slit. You suck in a sharp breath. His warm tongue slides through your folds, working you up to a puffy elevated state of sensitivity. He’s just savoring you to his satisfaction before he really gets to work, parting and licking any arousal that already starts to leak from your little hole.

He thrusts his tongue inside you. Before you can even fool yourself that you have the strength to push him away, you’re cumming on his face, embarrassingly quickly because you’re still sensitive from his touch earlier. 

Kai is calculated with how he plays you, moving his face in a way that stimulates everything all at once. His nose rubbing your clitoris, alternating between sucking and licking up the mess you’re becoming, creating the sloppiest noises. 

You tremble at the onset of another high, no break in between them if his wicked tongue had anything to say about it. You latch onto his raven locks.

Gasping out his name only to be cut off by your own moans as he takes another. 

“Mhmm stappp! god, you’re such an ass-” your hand shoots out to push at him.

He peppers your inner thigh with open mouth kisses, spreading your slick across your quivering flesh, half his face drenched and glistening. His fingers pick up where his tongue left off. Two digits curling inside your cunt to begin a steady rhythm. 

“You agreed to be mine, remember? Or did that little fact already escape your empty head? I’ll do whatever I want with you.. meaning, if I want to eat you until you're just a puddle that I can slurp up with a straw, I will do that..”

Your clit has grown hard, swollen and darkened tempting him to nip at it with his teeth. The pain awakens something in you that makes the marble surface even more slippery, any protests devolve into indiscernible whimpers. 

“Oh stop that, you fuckin love it,” he growls, reaching up under your shirt to squeeze your breast. 

He sucks on your clit while fucking your cunt, making your head spin. You're way beyond overstimulated. Wound so tight the pain clouded your vision, his fingers reaching a bruising pace. You feel a sudden urgency inside you and shove at his head. 

“Nwait- wait, Kai! No—no, I can’t!” It lances through you, like electricity, or more like a dam breaking the way your release gushes against his face. You clamp your thighs around his head, truly losing track of whether you want him away or impossibly closer.

Kai finally pulls back with a satisfied grin while you catch your breath. He’s so pleased with himself and all you can manage was a mortified stare.

“Look at the mess you made..” he tsks, feigning disappointment yet so suddenly delicate with how he handles you.

“i- i didn’t mean to.. i told you to stop…i-i,” you stammer, still trembling all the way down to your toes. You pull the shirt over your exposed center.

He would have told you that you squirted and it was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen but he likes watching you panic. Your palpable humiliation is amusing. 

Kai tilts his head with a satisfied sigh, “you’re spent, let's get you to bed.” He hauls you into his arms and carries you back into the bedroom, not far from the kitchenette. deposits you in the middle of his bed and curls up beside you after carefully wiping you down with a damp rag. 

He's so caring, you almost believe the sweet nothings he cooes in your ear. Almost.

“are you gonna let me go…” you murmur in a hushed voice

Kai pulls you closer, tucks the loose curls behind your ear and hums, “nope, not on my to do list.”

“But you don't need me anymore..” you pout.

He cranes his neck to quietly admire you then whispers, “I don’t know what’s going through your head, but you’re not getting out of our deal that easily.”

“Oh god.. I've sold my soul to the devil,” you chuckle faintly and curl deeper into the comfort of his embrace while he tightens his arm around you.

“Shhs-shh, just get some rest.. you’re gonna need it.”

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Poetry

Poetry

A type of literature that conveys a thought, describes a scene or tells a story in a concentrated, lyrical arrangement of words.

Poems can be structured, with rhyming lines and meter, the rhythm and emphasis of a line based on syllabic beats.

Poems can also be freeform, which follows no formal structure.

The basic building block of a poem is a verse known as a stanza.

A stanza is a grouping of lines related to the same thought or topic, similar to a paragraph in prose.

A stanza can be subdivided based on the number of lines it contains.

For example, a couplet is a stanza with two lines.

On the page, poetry is visibly unique: a narrow column of words with recurring breaks between stanzas. Lines of a poem may be indented or lengthened with extra spacing between words. The white space that frames a poem is an aesthetic guide for how a poem is read.

Meter

A poem can contain many elements to give it structure.

Rhyme is perhaps the most common of these elements: countless poetic works, from limericks to epic poems to pop lyrics, contain rhymes.

But equally important is meter, which imposes specific length and emphasis on a given line of poetry.

Stanza

In poetry, a stanza is used to describe the main building block of a poem.

It is a unit of poetry composed of lines that relate to a similar thought or topic—like a paragraph in prose or a verse in a song.

Every stanza in a poem has its own concept and serves a unique purpose.

A stanza may be arranged according to rhyming patterns and meters—the syllabic beats of a line.

It can also be a free-flowing verse that has no formal structure.

Rhyme Scheme

There are many different types of rhymes that poets use in their work: internal rhymes, slant rhymes, eye rhymes, identical rhymes, and more.

One of the most common ways to write a rhyming poem is to use a rhyme scheme composed of shared vowel sounds or consonants.

Types of Poetic Forms

Some of literature’s most enduring types of poems.

Blank verse. Blank verse is poetry written with a precise meter—almost always iambic pentameter—that does not rhyme.

Rhymed poetry. In contrast to blank verse, rhymed poems rhyme by definition, although their scheme varies.

Free verse. Free verse poetry is poetry that lacks a consistent rhyme scheme, metrical pattern, or musical form.

Epics. An epic poem is a lengthy, narrative work of poetry; typically detail extraordinary feats and adventures of characters from a distant past.

Narrative poetry. Similar to an epic, a narrative poem tells a story. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s “The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere” and Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner” exemplify this form.

Haiku. A 3-line poetic form originating in Japan. The first line has five syllables, the second line has seven syllables, and the third line again has five syllables.

Pastoral poetry. A pastoral poem is one that concerns the natural world, rural life, and landscapes. These poems have persevered from Ancient Greece (in the poetry of Hesiod) to Ancient Rome (Virgil) to the present day (Gary Snyder).

Sonnet. A sonnet is a 14 line poem, typically (but not exclusively) concerning the topic of love. Sonnets contain internal rhymes within their 14 lines; the exact rhyme scheme depends on the style of a sonnet.

Elegies. An elegy is a poem that reflects upon death or loss. Traditionally, it contains themes of mourning, loss, and reflection. However, it can also explore themes of redemption and consolation.

Ode. A tribute to its subject, although the subject need not be dead—or even sentient, as in John Keats’ “Ode on a Grecian Urn”.

Limerick. A 5-line poem that consists of a single stanza, an AABBA rhyme scheme, and whose subject is a short, pithy tale or description.

Lyric poetry. The broad category of poetry that concerns feelings and emotion. This distinguishes it from two other poetic categories: epic and dramatic.

Ballad. A form of narrative verse that can be either poetic or musical. It typically follows a pattern of rhymed quatrains. From John Keats to Samuel Taylor Coleridge to Bob Dylan, it represents a melodious form of storytelling.

Soliloquy. A soliloquy is a monologue in which a character speaks to him or herself, expressing inner thoughts that an audience might not otherwise know. Soliloquies are not definitionally poems, although they often can be—most famously in the plays of William Shakespeare.

Villanelle. A nineteen-line poem consisting of five tercets and a quatrain, with a highly specified internal rhyme scheme. Originally a variation on a pastoral, the villanelle has evolved to describe obsessions and other intense subject matters, as exemplified by Dylan Thomas, author of villanelles like “Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night.”

Imagery

In poetry and literature, imagery is the use of figurative language to evoke a sensory experience in the reader.

When a poet uses descriptive language well, they play to the reader’s senses, providing them with sights, tastes, smells, sounds, internal and external feelings, and even internal emotion.

Blank Verse & Free Verse Poetry

Free verse poetry has been popular from the 19th century onward and is not bound by rules regarding rhyme or meter.

Blank verse poetry came of age in the sixteenth century and has been famously employed by the likes of William Shakespeare, John Milton, William Wordsworth, and countless others.

Unlike free verse, it adheres to a strong metrical pattern.

Mimesis

Copying is something writers usually strive to avoid.

And yet, the literary theory of mimesis says that artists copy constantly, as a matter of necessity.

Does this make their art bad?

Centuries of thinkers from Plato and Aristotle onwards have attempted to answer this question by debating the nature of mimesis.

Onomatopoeia

Usually, how words sound bears no relationship to what they mean.

That’s not true in the case of onomatopoeia, where words sound like what they are. The English language is littered with these mimicking words, from meowing cats to babbling brooks.

In poetry and literature, the onomatopoeic effect is something writers can harness to create vivid imagery without verbosity.

Enjambment

Poetry is a structured literary form, with patterns and rhythms that dictate the flow of verses.

Lineation in poetry is how lines are divided and where they end in relation to a clause or thought. Having a line break at the end of a phrase or complete thought is a regular and expected pattern in poetry.

Poets subvert this expectation by using a technique called enjambment.

Dissonance

The human brain instinctively looks for harmony.

When it is denied harmony, it can create a powerful moment—whether that’s for the purposes of creating tension, capturing inner turmoil, or bringing a bit of levity.

Injects discomfort into text through inharmonious sounds and uneven rhythms.

Consonance

In poetry, rhyme isn’t the only way to introduce memorability and musicality.

Consonance presents poets with the possibility of playing around with the repetition of consonant sounds.

Assonance

Assonance, the repetition of vowel sounds, is distinct from consonance, which refers to the repetition of consonant sounds.

Along with rhyme and alliteration, it is a powerful poetic device that writers can use to make their words stand out.

Alliteration

Sometimes called initial rhyme or head rhyme, alliteration is one poetic device that’s unmissable in our everyday world.

Poets, advertisers and headline writers all regularly take this approach of repeating initial letter sounds to grab people’s attention.

In poetry, it also injects focus, harmony, and rhythm. 

Source ⚜ More: Notes ⚜ References for Poets ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[dead-west-podcast]

Inspired by our friends @theholmwoodfoundation who posted theirs here as well. Be sure to check out their show! If you do, leave them a rating/review and let them know the team from Dead West sent ya!

So here is our presentation on why YOU should listen and support The Dead West Podcast!

Spotify

Apple

Youtube Music

Podlink (Links to all the apps) Spotify playlist as mentioned above Also, honorable inspiration mentions for Hunt Showdown 1896, Wild Wild West, Rango, Alex Grecian's Red Rabbit, Hayley Stone's Make Me No Grave, the Never Whistle At Night Anthology, Bone Tomahawk, the 1973 WESTWORLD, The Wickerman, Weird West from WolfEye Studios, and Inscription by Daniel Mullins.

[ladykailitha]

Not All That Glitters is Gold Part 6

Hey, all! This story is finally picking up and we meet Eddie for the first time.

This is an extra long chapter because I wanted to have the gala all in one chapter instead of splitting it up.

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

****

Steve woke up to his best friend having planned the perfect date with Vickie. Today was already looking up.

“I told you she would say yes,” he told Robin smugly as he poured himself some orange juice.

Robin waved her hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. Mr Smarty Pants over there.”

Steve wiggled his ass at her and then sat down on the sofa next to her.

“So what’s on my schedule for next week?’

Robin pulled up his schedule again and hummed. “Looks like all you have is next Saturday; a charity gala for the arts on the arm of Senator Derek Lombard.”

“He’s always nice,” Steve said. “A little hard of hearing most of the time, but always just wants someone pretty to hang off his every word.”

“So an easy night for you then,” Robin said.

He hummed his agreement. “So what’s all that the event is about? Can I use it to network? Or will it be all politicians with sticks up their asses?”

Robin pulled up the event on her tablet. “Looks like it’s a fundraiser for putting music in poor neighborhoods as a way to combat gang joining and shit like that.”

Steve sighed. “Sounds like my worst nightmare. Classical music sounds like noise to me most of the time. It always puts me to sleep.”

“Then you’ll like this,” she said, scrolling through the list of guests. “The charity is the pet project of Corroded Coffin frontman, Eddie Munson. Apparently he was ‘trailer trash’, his words, and got out of the slums through the power of metal and rock music.”

Steve straightened up. “Shit. Is that that band that Dustin loves?”

Robin tapped something on her tablet and scrolled a bit. “Yep!” she chirped happily. “He is going to be so jealous when he hears you might get to meet him.”

He ran his tongue over his top row of teeth thoughtfully. “Yeah, okay. This sounding more interesting.” He tapped his lips. “If it’s his charity then it will likely have younger alphas there that I can network and get on my client list.”

“Yeah,” Robin agreed. “Especially rockstars. They tend to just hop in bed with any willing omega or beta if an omega can’t be found to service their ruts.”

Steve licked his lips. “Bring over a small stack of business cards to take with me. Also does Senator Lombard have a style of clothes he wants me to wear?”

Robin skipped back to his schedule and pulled up the appointment. “Uh... it looks like he doesn’t have a preference just something ‘elegant’.”

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Steve asked with a glimmer in his eye.

“If I am you might need to keep some heart medication on standby,” she said with glee.

“Oh good,” he grinned. “We are thinking of the same thing, then.”

****

Steve didn’t often wear dresses because he hated playing into the stereotype of male omegas being the women of the secondary genders. But this was his favorite outfit bar none.

It was a backless gold dress with a low cut front in a drape that showed off his bare chest. He kept himself as shaven as he was in high school on the swim team. Something that Tommy mocked him mercilessly for. But it made getting in and out of clothes easier, so Tommy could suck it.

The dress went all the way to his ankles and was split up the middle of each leg to show off his toned thighs. He wore jeweled open-toed kitten heels with a Grecian style strap down the middle. He wore a bangle on his left wrist and a charm bracelet on his right. The necklace and earrings matched, a wide gold setting with a single diamond in the center. And then to crown the whole thing off, he had diamonds glued to the strands of his hair so when he moved the light would catch the diamond and shimmer just so.

Senator Lombard was speechless when Steve walked down to the lobby of the hotel he was picked up from. Again for his safety that no one knew where he lived.

In his hand was matching gold clutch and over his shoulders in liquid waves a shimmering gold shawl.

“I am the luckiest man tonight,” Senator Lombard whispered as he took Steve’s open hand to guide him the rest of the way down the stairs.

“You flatter me, Senator,” Steve replied demurely looking up at the alpha through his eyelashes.

“And you honor me with your presence.”

Steve blushed and allowed himself to be led out to the waiting limo.

****

Senator Lombard was the talk and envy of a lot of people at the gala. Women hated the way Steve looked better in his dress then they did in theirs. The men were seething jealousy that Steve wasn’t on their arm.

The senator was a distinguished older gentleman of the old style of politics. Calm and collected in public, a conniving, calculated negotiator behind closed doors.

And he showed that strength here. Everyone was tripping over themselves to introduce themselves to him just for the pleasure of being in Steve’s company.

They had to know how Senator Lombard could afford such beauty and grace, so much so that Steve had run out of business cards before the appetizer was even brought out.

The only ones that stayed on the outskirts of Senator Lombard’s aura of influence was the members of Corroded Coffin.

They were dressed like the rockers they were. Lots of black clothes, jewelry, and eyeliner. Their tattoos and piercing further pushed them outside of the rest of the people at the gala.

People who despite being invited by the band were giving them a wide berth. Which was ridiculous in Steve’s opinion. One thing you must never be: is rude to the host.

Steve broke off from the senator and turned to make his way toward his hosts when there was gentle tap on his shoulder.

He turned around to see the prettiest of the band standing in front of him. He had long dark curls, deep soulful brown eyes, and dimples for days. Steve was smitten.

“You dropped this,” the man said, holding out his hand.

Steve opened his hand and a diamond dropped into it. He tucked his clutch under his arm and touched his hair. Sure enough one of his diamonds was missing.

“Thank you!” Steve cooed. “I don’t want to lose that!”

The man smiled and the dimples became more pronounced and Steve was close to swooning.

“I’m Eddie,” he said. “Eddie Munson. And who might you be, darlin’?”

Steve blushed. “Steve Harrington.”

Eddie’s eyebrows twitched upward. “A Starcourt escort in my house. I’m honored.”

Steve looked around the large foyer. “This is your place? It’s beautiful.”

Eddie smiled deeper. “Thank you. Now where were you off to just now?”

Steve giggled. “On my way to see you, actually. I’m not a fan of people being rude to the hosts. Regardless of who the hosts are.”

“Even if you disagree with their beliefs?” Eddie asked, a glint of mischief in his eye.

“I don’t go to those,” Steve replied with a wink.

Eddie’s eyebrows went up. “I wasn’t aware you had that much control over your clientele.”

“Maybe not to start with,” he said with a shrug. “But as one of my friends pointed out recently, when you’re one of the top ten paid escorts you have a lot more leeway.”

Eddie blinked those long eyelashes and Steve was captivated. “That’s fair. And you deemed my little shindig as worthy? I’m doubly honored then.”

“Well...” Steve murmured tilting his head to the side thoughtfully, “more like my handler, Robin. But she knows what I like.”

“And you like heavy metal?” Eddie asked, amused.

“More like good causes and deserving people.”

A waiter passed by and Eddie grabbed two champagne glasses from the man’s tray. He held one out to Steve.

“Oh,” he murmured. His hands were occupied. He hurried to put the diamond into his clutch and tucked the clutch back under his arm. He then took the drink. “Thank you.”

“That dress suits you,” Eddie said, licking his lips slowly.

Steve ducked his head a blushed. “Thank you. It’s my favorite dress.”

Eddie smirked. “I didn’t know you were allowed to wear the same outfit more than once.”

Steve threw back his head and laughed. “Not normally, no. But the key is to change up the accessories and chose a different setting. The last time I wore this dress was for dinner with a client. Some quiet upscale restaurant where privacy is key.”

Eddie looked up and down Steve’s body. “You certainly fill it well.”

Steve smiled. “It’s more fun to get out of.”

Eddie nearly choked as he was taking a drink of champagne when Steve said that. Steve rubbed his back soothingly as if he wasn’t the one that caused the distress in the first place.

Steve tapped the back of his neck. “There’s a little clasp right here. Just unhook and dress just slides right off.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide and Steve could tell he was imagining it.

“Escorts are great for all sorts of things. Dinner with family you want to impress. Casual conversations and movies nights for the rich and the lonely. Arm candy for charity events like this one. Not all my clients are in it for the sex.” Steve patted Eddie’s arm and then down the rest of his champagne. He put his glass on the tray of a passing waiter and went back to Senator Lombard with a cheerful wave over his shoulder.

****

Jeff came up and clamped a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “That was the most embarrassing display I’ve ever seen. If this was a Looney Tune, your tongue would be dragging on the floor, man.”

Eddie pushed his friend playfully. “Shut it, Jeffey.”

“No, seriously, man,” Jeff said. “I haven’t seen you get that tongue tied with someone you were interested in since we got our first record deal.”

Eddie sighed. “I really should have known better than to come to a gun fight with a knife.”

Jeff laughed. “Yeah, man. Escorts are trained socializers. You didn’t have a chance.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen anymore beautiful then him in my life,” Eddie murmured. “And I’ve dated rock goddesses, super models, and A-list actors and actresses.”

Jeff hummed. “He’s certainly something, that’s for sure.”

“God,” Eddie huffed. “He even gave an in with hiring his services if I wanted and all I could do was stare at him slack jawed and stupid.”

Jeff pulled out his phone and began scrolling through it. “Well according to Starcourt’s website they offer all sorts of services. Gang bangs, threesomes, roleplays, rut servicing. You could throw a dart at a dartboard and each section would be a different service they offer.”

Eddie bit his lip. “Fuck, there is no way they’d let him service my ruts. I’m a blocker buster.”

Jeff winced. “Yeeeaaah. The last time you spent your rut with someone, they went into heat almost immediately. A fun time to be had, sure. But that guy could have gotten pregnant and you would have been on the hook for life.”

Eddie grimaced. “It wasn’t that fun if I’m honest.”

“They would absolutely whisk him away the second he even scented wrong.”

He nodded. “Looks like all I can do is dream and maybe beg to see if they’ll let me take him out to dinner.”

Jeff just shook his head. His friend was hopeless.

****

To say Steve felt smug would be an understatement. Not only did his little interaction with Eddie Munson fluster the alpha, but it spurred on everyone else to stop treating their hosts like they had the plague.

Suddenly there was a sea between him and Eddie and for now that was fine. It had been a long time since an alpha’s scent overwhelmed his senses.

Eddie’s scent was warm like cardamon and cinnamon. Like a hot drink on a cold winter’s day. Steve felt engulfed by it. It took every ounce of will power and training not drop to his knees right then and there. His actual client be damned.

But he managed to remain on his feet and walk away without Eddie knowing how close Steve had come to breaking his composure.

Senator Lombard kept a hand on Steve’s waist after that. Steve was sure he could smell the way Steve’s scent when he came back was strong and wild.

The senator didn’t know who had caused Steve’s scent to react that way, but he wasn’t going to take any chances that Steve might be swept off his feet.

Steve spent a good portion of the rest of the night, rubbing his nose along Senator Lombard’s scent gland to calm him down. Every time Steve would laugh at another alpha’s joke or talk a little too cheerfully to another omega, the senator’s scent would turn sour and bitter. And Steve would have to start the soothing process all over again.

It was starting to get annoying and Steve was seriously thinking of putting the alpha on his black list for it. The fact that Steve came back should have been all the assurance the alpha needed that whoever had got Steve hot under the collar that they weren’t enough to keep his interest. But no. Steve was beginning to suspect that he was just a bitter old man.

Steve was given a moment’s reprieve when the senator was pulled aside by another senator that wanted to talk about co-sponsoring a bill on the Hill.

“God,” the omega woman Steve was talking to said. “I couldn’t imagine doing what you do. The heavy duty scent blockers, the spending your heats alone, the birth control. God the birth control alone must cost a fortune.”

Steve gave an awkward laugh. “Um, no. Omegas at Starcourt are infertile. They have to be, not just for the protection of the omega but for the alpha clients, too. Can’t have an escort blackmailing important alphas that their pup might be theirs.”

The woman pouted. “That’s so sad. Have you thought about adopting?”

Steve’s smile stayed on his face, but inside he died just a little. “I’d have to find an alpha willing to bond me first.” He said it teasingly, but he knew it was hopeless.

“A pretty thing like you?” the woman cooed. “The right alpha willing be baying for the chance to sweep you off your feet. Just give it a couple of years. You’re still in your prime. Enjoy it!”

Steve’s smile slid into something more real. He was grateful that she didn’t pity him and told him he still had time. Because she was right it. He did have time. There was no need to rush off and get bonded. He had the glittering lights, the fancy clothes, and rich food to enjoy while he was still young.

Too soon the senator had returned and pulled him away from the omega. Steve waved at her and smiled. He would later learn that she was Representative Jim Hopper’s second omega, Joyce Byers. Jonathan’s mom.

That made the encounter all the more wholesome.

****

As Steve was pulled away he didn’t notice Eddie behind him frowning.

“Hey, Gareth,” Eddie said. “You got to talk with the senator’s date, right?”

Gareth rolled his eyes. “Yes, I got to talk to your crush.”

Eddie flapped his hands at him. “Shush. But how would you describe his scent?”

Gareth frowned. “I don’t know. Spicy I guess. Like Mexican hot chocolate. Why?”

“You brought an escort to the Grammy’s last year,” Eddie continued, never taking his eyes off Steve. “How would you have described her scent?”

Gareth’s frown deepened between his brows as he fought to remember. “Fruity, I guess. Sweet. Almost too sweet.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Gareth pressed.

Eddie just pressed his lips together.

“You know,” Gareth said into the resulting silence. “I would say his scent complements yours.”

Eddie crossed his arms over his chest and looked down. He could only agree.

Something didn’t feel right and he was determined to find out what it was about Steve Harrington that got under his skin the way it did.

****

Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @lexirosewrites @goodolefashionedloverboi @messrs-weasley @maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @bookbinderbitch @littlewildflowerkitten @vecnuthy @scheodingers-muppet @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @genderless-spoon @yikes-a-bee @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @irregular-child @nburkhardt @apomaro-mellow @yellowdevilkitten @eyehartart @mangoinacan13 @ellietheasexylibrarian @rememberthatiloveyou @demolvr @y4r3luv @slowandsteddie @r0binscript

[pmamtraveller]

GEORGE FREDERIC WATTS - HOPE, 1886

Watts thought of the concept for this work following the passing of his adopted daughter's baby. He wrote a letter to his friend Madeline Wyndham in December 1885, which read:

“Hope sitting on a globe, with bandaged eyes playing on a lyre which has all the strings broken but one out of which poor little tinkle she is trying to get all the music possible, listening with all her might to the little sound—do you like the idea?“

The female in the character is the depiction of Hope. As initially proposed, Watts depicts her seated on the earth, solitary, with a blindfold on, and playing a lyre with just one remaining string. She is dressed in Grecian robes, the style depicted on the Elgin marbles, which Watts studied extensively in his youth.

The artwork made its debut at the Grosvenor Gallery. Critics both praised and commended it. The painting was seen as slightly too modern, but its balance in composition and harmony of colors could not be denied. Watts had intended for "Hope" to be included in a series called House of Life, which he never finished.

[starry-bi-sky]

"Why didn't they just fish?" in Epic: The Musical

I'm more active with the Epic fandom on tiktok than I am on tumblr (in the sense that interact with it more often), but one common joke/criticism I see there is that Odysseus and his crew could've avoided Polyphemus entirely if they just fished. At first I thought it was a funny joke, but then I saw people like, actually criticizing Odysseus and his crew for it. And it slowly stopped being funny, and now I'm just sick of it.

So, why couldn't they just fish?

Right off the bat, I can think of several reasons why.

Lack of proper equipment

Quantity

Time (Preparation, Longevity of the fish, the time it takes to fish, etc)

Proper Fishing Areas

To start with: Odysseus and his crew just off the bat don't have the equipment to fish. Yes, I'm aware they have harpoons as mentioned in "Storm". I don't know why they have harpoons, but they do. Harpoons in fishing are used against large, deep sea fish. Fish you are most likely going to see in deeper parts of the water that require speciality equipment that ancient grecian soldiers straight up don't have. And if you use a harpoon against a smaller fish, you're more than likely going to mostly destroy or otherwise damage the fish and leave less meat behind to eat. You're going to break bones, and fish bones are thin, fragile, and easily choke-able on. It's a waste of time and effort.

Then, what about nets? Those also don't work, because if they have nets on their ships, then those nets are not going to be fishing nets. They're going to be nets made as tools or equipment for the ship, which means the holes in between are likely too big to catch anything. Those nets also are likely not weighted so that they can sink to the bottom and catch fish; those nets are gonna float. And, those nets probably aren't going to be big enough to catch a mass haul either, and they have six hundred men to feed.

"Why not use their ropes to make fishing nets." Well, they could! They live on an island, and six hundred men there's bound to be someone who knows how to make a fisher's net. But they need that rope. That rope serves a purpose. Rope is an essential equipment on ships, even in modern day, ships will have hundreds to thousands of pounds of rope because they need it.

All rope has its breaking point. Rope frays, it snaps, it weakens over time. They need rope for the sails, for anchoring, if that rope breaks, they need to have the tools ready to replace it, and they can't do that if that rope has been turned into a fishing net. Plus, ship rope and fishing rope are entirely different things and have different thickness and material.

"They can just undo the net" no they could not! Making a fishing net by hand takes approximately eight hours. Those knots have to be tight enough to not loosen up when something pushes against it, unknotting a fishing net would take hours to do, and to do that every time they need to fish? It's just not worth the energy and time, especially if they have a low quantity of soldiers who know (and remember!) how to make a fisher net. Plus, undoing the net would just fray the rope and make it unusable.

Also, fish don't swim up at the top of the ocean. They're going to be found deeper down in the cooler parts, or in the shallows and reefs by the islands. And fish startle really easily. They're going to zip away and hide at the first sign of movement or sound. When I was little and my dad would take us fishing, he would remind us to be quiet so we didn't scare the fish away.

The fish in the reef are finite too. There are also going to be different amounts of fish in each area. Even on the river, there were some parts that were teeming with fish, and then spots that were completely dead. Odysseus and his crew would have to find where these spots are, and then try, with their ill-equipped nets and harpoons, to catch those fish.

Which brings me to my next issue: quantity. One medium-sized mammal like a sheep could feed, what, at least fifteen men. Fifteen fish could feed about three. In a family of four we needed to catch at least twenty palm-sized blue-gills in order for us to all eat and not be hungry after, and that's with other food with us too.

The amount of fish that would need to get caught in order to adequately feed six hundred men enough that they have the energy to row their 50-men ships -- which are about 50 tons -- would have to be industrial amount, they'd need to be catching fish every day. There wouldn't be enough fish on a single island to feed six hundred men. They'd need to hop from island to island in order to get enough fish to feed everyone, and then they wouldn't get anywhere.

And why do that when there's twenty, perfectly good sheep, right over there? Which is another thing. They're hunting animals on an island, a finite space. Fishing in a reef or shallows, the fish has access to the massive ocean right next to it. Those fish can get spooked away at a moment's notice and poof, gone. Meanwhile, there's only so much space that a sheep on an island can go, and only so many places they can hide. If it runs, we're persistence predators! We can just follow them, and corner them. We can't follow fish into the ocean, that's when we're on the fishes terms.

Fishing also takes hours. Which yes, hunting also does too. But the payout for hunting a sheep (can feed at least fifteen men) is far greater than the payout of fishing (could feed three, maybe four). Plus again, island; there's only so far they can go, and they have bows and arrows. The time it'd take to hunt the sheep and get enough to feed everyone would be significantly less than the time it'd take to catch fish for everyone.

In two hours you could not have caught a single fish, even in modern day (and I know this from personal experience). In two hours, on an island, you could have probably already caught a deer, or a sheep.

Preparation too. Longevity. Essential nutrients that fish do not have. There are certain fish you can't eat because they're poisonous, or they lack certain nutrients, or they just don't get big enough to feed even a single man. As I mentioned before, fish have these iitty bitty bones that are thin, sharp, and easily choke-able. Descaling and deboning a fish takes time that these soldiers don't really have; they're trying to row this great big ship back home. They can't waste effort on picking apart the bones of a fish so they don't choke or otherwise hurt themselves. Mammals have a ton of meat, and big bones! No worries there about choking or deboning.

Fish spoils faster than meat does. Yes there are all these preparations for food that go against spoiling, but still, those preparations would be for meat, veggies, fruits. Fish would need to be preserved differently, and if they don't they'd need to be constantly fishing in order to make up for the loss of stock. Then they'd never get anywhere because you can't fish on the open ocean without the proper equipment, that they would not have as ancient greeks AND soldiers. Like this is a warship, not a fisher ship.

Think of it this way: you're trying to feed six hundred men, and not only that, you're trying to get enough food to keep them fed for at least the rest of the journey or long enough to find another island that has food on it.

Would you rather: risk your hand trying to fish with shoddily, ill-equipped nets or harpoons that are not made for fishing, and catch maybe twenty fish within ten hours? And maybe six are big enough to feed one or two men?

Or

See if there are any large animals on the island that you can hunt, as well as any edible fruits or plants that you can bring back with you and do this in four.

Which one are you choosing?

Overall, there are just too many negatives in fishing that makes it, as a whole, completely pointless to do. Lack of proper equipment, quantity, time, and fishing spots are all things that come into play. I can appreciate it as a funny joke, and I did at first, but when it's taken as an actual criticism is where I go "hold on, have you ever actually gone fishing before?"

[fishcat480]

Go Timberwolves!

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x Plus size! cheerleader!reader

Description: You're a cheerleader and Elijah is in the stands. Your friend Jessica notices him first.

Warnings: none

____________________________________________________________

“Who is that?”

Jessica was looking over at the stands and toward a group of guys, all sitting next to each other. They looked hilariously out of place, all seemingly dressed for different events. The one with reddish hair and kiss-me lips was wearing a velvet jacket over a v-neck, three necklaces dangling over his heart. You’d seen him hanging around before, and recognized him as Rebekah’s brother Klaus. How many times had he been watching Caroline from the sidelines during a game or desperately offering to walk her to her car? Doubtful that Jessica didn’t know who that was, or that he was clearly obsessed with everyone’s favorite blonde.

Then there was the youngest of the three. He was dressed pretty normally for a high school football game in a t-shirt and jeans. He spoke animatedly to Klaus, who looked about as thrilled to listen as he would have been to get struck by lightning. His name was escaping your memory, but it was another K name, you were sure of it. Kyle! No…Kal?

All thoughts of K names were stripped from your thoughts the second your eyes landed on Jessica’s mystery man. 

His hair was dark, and his eyes were darker. His features were angular, practically Grecian. He was wearing a suit, which was ridiculous because who wore a suit in Mystic Falls unless they were a realtor or attending a Lockwood party? Somehow, though, he pulled it off so perfectly that there was no question that he should be wearing it. 

Never had you been so struck by a stranger. His eyes scanned over the crowd, and across the field, before landing squarely on you.

You blushed and turned away, heart thundering in your chest.

Elena and Bonnie had followed Jessica’s gaze too, and gave each other knowing looks. You were friendly with Elena but not close. You and Bonnie had been good friends since middle school, though, so you felt no shame sidling up to her and joining her conversation.

“Info on Jessica’s mystery man?” you asked, spreading your legs as you sat next to Bonnie, beginning to stretch. She laughed and gave you a stern look. “He’s Klaus’ older brother. No mystery.”

You bent forward, stretching out your back and Bonnie followed suit. “Off limits?” you ask, trying to seem curious but not invested. 

“Yes.” she said quickly. Elena smacked Bonnie’s thigh. 

“Elijah is not off limits.” she said. “He’s actually the only one out of the three of them I’d say is pretty on…limits…”

Elijah....you tried the name out in your head. Yes, you decided, that was a good name.

You all giggled. “I mean, Klaus is just too in love with Caroline.” you shrugged. “I wouldn’t dream of going anywhere near him.” 

You sat up and bent your neck to the side, eyeing the rest of the cheerleaders. “Hey, where is Caroline?”

“Tyler drama.” Bonnie said conspiratorially. She sat upright, finished with her stretching. “He’s leaving again.”

“Shit.” you said, finishing up yourself. “I don’t really know what she sees in him anyway. He’s always been kind of an asshole. And Klaus seems to really like her.”

“Well Klaus needs to earn her.” Elena said hastily, turning away slightly. You weren’t sure what that was supposed to mean, but if Bonnie’s similarly agitated face was any indication, there was something going on that you weren’t in on. It wasn’t really any of your business anyway, you conceded, so you didn’t harp on it. Boy drama was so not your thing.

There was a fanfare suddenly, as the marching band began playing the introduction music for the Timberwolves. Rebekah stood and called you and the other cheerleaders into formation. 

Once the players began coming out, you’d go right into the classic Timberwolves fighting cheer. 

Just as the first player was making his entrance, a blonde head appeared next to you, startling you. It was as if she'd appeared out of thin air.

“Caroline!” you said, throwing a hand on your chest. “You scared the shit out of me.”

She smiled nervously. “Did I?”

You just laughed and joined the rest of the girls in the Timberwolves fighting chant, shaking your pom-poms and kicking your legs up. 

The game didn’t start out super well for the Timberwolves, so you didn’t have a ton to do for awhile. You spoke to Caroline briefly about Tyler, but she didn’t want to say much, and she seemed genuinely upset about something. You weren’t close enough with her to give her emotional support, so you instead distracted her with a quick game of fuck, marry, kill between the three handsome Mikaelson boys. 

“Kill Kol, Marry Klaus, Fuck Elijah.” Caroline said confidently. Kol! That was his name.

She was speaking a bit loudly, like she wanted someone to hear her. Probably Jessica. 

You glanced up at the stands and noticed Klaus and Kol with their heads bent together. Elijah looked completely nonplussed. 

“What about you?” she asked. 

You glanced up at the brothers again. Elijah was looking in your direction now, almost as if he was listening to your conversation. He was probably just looking at the cheerleaders. He definitely wasn’t admiring you - you were the only girl on the squad who wore a uniform above a size large. 

Still, you couldn’t help but fantasize about the idea of the three of them. Kol wasn’t really your type, so he was an easy kill. Klaus was gorgeous, to be sure, but something about Elijah was still singing through your veins after laying eyes on him that first time. 

“Kill Kol, fuck Klaus, marry Elijah.”

Caroline gave you a wicked smile. “Elijah, huh?”

You shrugged. “He’s incredibly good looking.”

��Poor Kol.” Caroline said, her lip pouting. 

“Rejection builds character.”

You glanced up again, and Elijah looked as if he might be laughing - Klaus too. Kol had his arms crossed against his chest. Weird….

Rebekah shrieked all of a sudden, breaking you out of your thoughts, as the Timberwolves finally scored, and the squad got on their feet to cheer. 

The game ended with a Timberwolves win which you were thankful for - every win meant half price burgers at the grill. You and a few other girls planned to go there after, and you grabbed your stuff from the locker room, hoping to get to your car and beat them there - you were not going to be the fat girl in a mini skirt sliding into a booth full of people. 

Bonnie, Elena and Caroline were all leaving together, huddled in conversation. 

“Half price burgers, ladies?” you asked, walking backwards in front of them. “A Timberwolves win is a win for all of us.” you joked, quoting your incredibly cringy gym coach.

The girls laughed, but shook their heads. 

“Homework.”

“Boy drama.”

“Tired.”

They’d all spoken at the same time, and you gave them all an incredulous look. “Ladies, I’m heartbroken. Next time if you’re going to break my heart, do it one at a time.”

You gave them a winning smile, and they returned it easily, thankful you hadn’t been upset.

“Next time I’m making you guys go!” you called, still walking backwards as you exited the hallway out of the locker room. You backed into the double doors leading to the parking lot and called a goodbye to them, turning around.

And slamming right into someone.

“Oh!” you cried, toppling towards the asphalt. The ground never came, though, because a pair of hands was holding you steady, and lifted you slowly upwards until you were staring Elijah Mikaelson in the face.

“My apologies.”he said, in a voice that hit that your ears and sent shivers straight to the apex of your thighs. Your jaw dropped, suddenly faced with his nearness. 

“Not at all!” you cried. “I wasn’t looking.” 

Not too far away stood Kol and Klaus. The former was watching you and Elijah, looking like he was trying very hard not to laugh. Klaus, of course, had become distracted the moment Caroline had appeared. He was stalking towards her, and to your surprise, Caroline looked like she might be walking towards him too. Normally she brushed him off completely. 

You focused your attention back on Elijah. 

“Excellent job tonight.” he said, his eyes locked on yours. You felt flushed from the unbroken eye contact, but didn’t dare break it. 

“Thanks. It makes our job a bit easier when the team actually manages to score.”

He laughed, full and bright, and it made your heart soar to hear it. 

“I’m Y/N.” you said, introducing yourself. 

“Elijah. Mikaelson.”

“Nice to meet you Elijah.” 

You offered your hand and he took it firmly in yours, but rather than shake it, he brought it up to his lips and kissed the back of it. Ok, you were officially a puddle on the ground and people were going to have to step in you to get to their cars.

“Hi!” came a bubbly voice, and you glanced over seeing Jessica. Of course she was going to try and stake her claim. 

“I’m Jessica.” she said, sidling up next to you. “I saw you in the stands earlier. You’re a Mikaelson, aren’t you?”

Elijah nodded politely. “My reputation precedes me.”

Jessica smiled her flirty smile and pushed her chest out. “Rebekah and I are good friends. I make a point to know my friends’ families. It’s only good manners.”

You rolled your eyes involuntarily from behind Jessica, who had stepped into your space. When had she ever spent time with Rebekah outside of practice? She was clearly making her claim known, and you huffed, backing off. 

A guy like Elijah wouldn’t be interested in you, anyway. It would have been nice to at least been given a chance, though, before perfect little Jessica had to come in and do her thing. 

You sighed to yourself. That wasn’t nice. Jessica was your friend. It just sucked, sometimes, being the only bigger girl in a group of girls. Things were different for you. 

“Well, I’ll let you two get acquainted.” you said, and Jessica quickly told you not to wait up for her at the Grill. You smiled encouragingly at her, even though you would have rather eaten nails. Jessica did technically see Elijah first, though, so regardless, the rule of dibs was firmly in place. Elijah’s eyes met yours and he looked…disappointed? It was probably nothing. 

As you turned to go to your car, Matt Donovan brushed past you, walking fast. “Sorry, Y/N!” he called, power walking to his truck. You shook your head, laughing. You’d never seen Matt move that fast for anything, not even out on the field.

The other girls had made their way out now, and you caught up with them briefly to let them know you'd be going home instead of out. You weren't really in the mood for celebration any more. They gave you tight hugs and told you to call them in the morning, and you gave them all the finger just to get a laugh out of them.

Bonnie was leaning against her car when you made your way to yours. 

“Why’d you do that?” she asked, giving you a curious look.

“Why’d I do what?” you said, tossing your duffle into the backseat. 

“You just let Jessica take over. You were talking to Elijah first.”

“Yeah, but Jessica saw him first. Besides, I bumped into him. It’s not like we talked about anything profound.”

Bonnie sighed. “You wanted to talk to him though.”

You crossed your arms. “Yeah, so?”

“So!” she cried, placing her hands on your shoulders. “So you’re the funniest girl on the planet, and you're beautiful and talented and you deserve to be happy.”

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up.”

“It’s true! You’re amazing.”

“I know, I just wanted you to say more.”

Bonnie shoved at you playfully. “See? Your wit is unmatched.”

“And you’re kind.” you said seriously. “And a really, really good friend.”

Bonnie looked down, her mouth quirked to the side. “Thank you.”

A laugh echoed from across the parking lot, and you stared at Caroline and Klaus standing by Caroline’s car. They were standing close together and laughing, and Klaus’ finger was twirled around a strand of Caroline’s hair.

You hit Bonnie in the shoulder and pointed. 

“Ummmmmm?” You gave her an incredulous look.

“I know!” Bonnie said, coming to lean against your car. “She said she broke up with Tyler. She said she’s done with wishy-washy.”

You smiled happily as the two continued flirting. “I’ve been dying for them to get together.”

“No, literally!” She threw her hands up in the air. “The tension was incredibly cuttable.”

You snorted. “Like, thick enough I think I’d need a chainsaw.”

Bonnie hid her giggle behind her hand. You watched Klaus and Caroline as Bonnie began asking you if you were still going to the grill.  You wished you had a guy to flirt with against your car.

“I’m kind of hungry all of a -”

Bonnie’s voice trailed off, and you tore your eyes away from the happy couple to stare at your friend. 

“Bon?”

Her eyes were trained behind you, a small smile on her lips. You followed her eyes, and there was Elijah. His nearness startled you, and you jumped a foot in the air.

“My apologies.” he said, amusement in his eyes. 

“We have got to stop meeting like that.” you responded.

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” Bonnie called, already on the other side of her car and hopping in the front seat. You gave her an incredulous look. 

“Traitor!” you called, as she began to pull out. She looked completely self righteous as she pulled out of the parking lot, Britney blasting on her speakers.

“Well..” you breathed, turning back to Elijah. “Twice in one night? To what do I owe my great fortune?”

He shrugged. “I have a thing for cheerleaders.”

Your jaw dropped. “Wait, are you serious?”

He laughed. “No, not at all. But I saw you from the stands and wanted to get to know you better. So here I am.”

You couldn’t help the huge smile overtaking your face. Elijah Mikaelson wanted to get to know you? 

“What about Jessica?”

He shrugged. “She’s a nice girl. Not really my type.”

“And I am?”

He huffed. “Am I not making myself clear? Shall I fetch a plane and spell it out in the sky for you?”

I shook my head, faux serious. “It’s nighttime Elijah. I’d never be able to see that.”

He snorted - actually snorted. It was the most adorable thing you might have ever heard. 

“You’re a minx, and you know it. Now agree to go to dinner with me.”

“Half price burgers at the grill?”

He smiled wryly. “No, that won’t do. I’m a full price kind of guy. I need candles, roses, the whole chair pulling out thing. Carlo’s. Friday night. Eight o’ clock.”

Carlo’s was like, ridiculously nice. And expensive. “But that’s-”

“It’s what?” he challenged. “Because if you’re suggesting I can’t afford it…”

You shook your head. “No, of course not. I’m sure you can. But I can’t!”

Faster than you could even fathom, Elijah was backing you up into the side of your car, his hands locked on either side of you, face inches away from your own. His eyes were dark and bore into you, making your palms begin to sweat.

“I’m not in the habit of taking women out on dates and having them pay.” His breath fanned across your face. Your eyes flickered down to his lips, and you shivered. His presence was intoxicating. 

“Have I made myself clear?” he asked, and damn if that question didn’t excite you. You nodded, your breath hitching, and he leaned even closer to you for a moment before pushing himself away.

“Good!” he declared, and once he backed off, he took a moment to rake his gaze across your body. Your uniform did little for the imagination, and you were kind of thankful.

“See you soon, Y/N.” He called sweetly, shifting from domineering to polite so quick you had whiplash. You watched him go, a dopey smile on your face.

“Wait!” you called. “Do you want my phone number?”

He paused, then reached into his pocket for his phone. He typed for a moment, then locked the screen and placed it back in his pocket.

Your phone dinged.

Tell Bonnie I said thank you.

You smirked. Of course Bonnie had given him your number. You'd have to remember to get her a thank you gift.

As you started your car and got ready to go, movement from the car behind you caught your attention in your mirror. You struggled to see clearly what it was, but when you did, you were shocked.

There, in the pickup truck Rebekah Mikaelson had gifted him, was Matt Donovan making out with her brother Kol. 

You laughed all the way home, imagining the look on Rebekah’s face when she finds out.

[grecianfilipina]

Trying so hard to make my slow tigers fast ones but it's just making my body go "oh, we can get tenser? fantastic, let's keep doing that!"

[apoemaday]

Sailing to Byzantium

by W.B. Yeats

That is no country for old men. The young In one another’s arms, birds in the trees –Those dying generations–at their song, The salmon‐falls, the mackerel‐crowded seas, Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long Whatever is begotten, born, and dies. Caught in that sensual music all neglect Monuments of unageing intellect. An aged man is but a paltry thing, A tattered coat upon a stick, unless Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing For every tatter in its mortal dress, Nor is there singing school but studying Monuments of its own magnificence; And therefore I have sailed the seas and come To the holy city of Byzantium. O sages standing in God’s holy fire As in the gold mosaic of a wall, Come from the holy fire, perne in a gyre, And be the singing‐masters of my soul. Consume my heart away; sick with desire And fastened to a dying animal It knows not what it is; and gather me Into the artifice of eternity. Once out of nature I shall never take My bodily form from any natural thing, But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make Of hammered gold and gold enamelling To keep a drowsy Emperor awake; Or set upon a golden bough to sing To lords and ladies of Byzantium Of what is past, or passing, or to come.

[fayes-fics]

hello!! can I please get a drabble that takes place in the 70s with artist boho slut benedict x reader? thank you 🙈

Kinktober: Benedict + Chem / High Sex

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

Paring: Benedict Bridgeton x fem!reader, Modern 1970s AU

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, use of recreational drugs, sexual acts while high/under the influence, 69 position, oral sex (m to f, f to m) blowjob and cunnilingus, facesitting, vaginal fingering, deepthroat.

Author’s note: hi Nonny. Well, this request immediately made me think of boho hippy artist Ben selling his art at a music festival and voila, a whole AU was born for me. Honestly, this universe was so fun I might write more in the future 😁 Anyway, I hope you enjoy! 🧡

You have a cock in your mouth when the drug kicks in. A corkscrew of colour swimming before your eyes has you pausing to make a noise of surprise, not just because of the fantastic suction around your clit.

“Holy shit….” you mumble, pulling up to take a breather.

“It kicked in, huh?” Benedict smirks as you look down between your legs to his handsome face.

“Yeah… fuckkkkk,” you stutter, unmoored.

This wasn't how you envisioned this music festival going, but damn, if you aren't having the time of your life.

Just an hour ago, you arrived as the sun set, still yet to find your friends, when you stumbled upon a stall selling captivating artwork. You felt utterly compelled to purchase a piece, even before you saw the beautiful, square-jawed, blue-eyed, topless man selling it.

Daisy chains looped into his wavy chestnut locks, flared jeans hanging dangerously low over an Adonis belt—a Grecian statue made flesh. By the time he informed you that he was indeed the artist and, after a few drinks, offered you a tab of something to “start your festival right”, you were already his.

And so here you now, in the back of his VW bus, windows concealed by vibrant tie-dyed fabrics, chemicals coursing in your bloodstream as you bring each other pleasure. Sitting naked upon his face, draped over his warm body, his cock in your mouth. A circuit of decadent, lush delight. And now….

Now, every feeling is heightened.

You dive back onto him with something approaching ferocity, savouring his silken but steely cock passing through your lips, each contour sparking synesthesia behind your eyelids. When his tongue ploughs deep into your pussy it ripples up your insides into your belly, settling as a fire behind your ribs. And when he sucks your clit, it’s as if you can trace the signal racing to your brain from those millions of afferent nerve endings.

Strains of music from the distant soundstage seep through the popped skylight above as his long, artistic fingers swirl patterns on the notches of your spine. His sinewy arms wrapped tight around your hips, encouraging you to use his face and tongue as if he were a vessel built purely for your enjoyment.

And fuck if he isn't—he tastes, embodies, and imbues hedonism. His skin is smooth and smells of citrus, earthy bark and charcoal. His cock is perfect, a delight that fills your mouth and makes your bones liquefy at the idea he might fuck you.

You spiral your tongue around his head in a tempo to match the tattoo his drums over your clit, all your concentration pinpointed on these mirrored movements, sinful unhurried sensualism. Luxuriating as if you have hours to spend together, with no destination in mind other than a memorable experience. 

When he buries two fingers inside you, your cry muffled around his cock, you can feel his smirk in the stubble abraiding your labia. Well, if he wants to notch things a little higher….

Mind looping with rainbows, you take a deep breath and sink until his cock is in your throat. The feral sound he makes hot against your clit like another drug you could get addicted to. He groans your praises, a hand straying into your hair to hold your head down, his plush lips snagging your engorged pearl as you hold still, images of colourful dancing bears before your eyes, each bearing his face contorted with ecstasy. Something about him makes you want to be the best he has ever had. Make him not want to leave your side; make him not want to get dressed ever again; just spend eternity entwined in your body.

You pull up, and then after a few deep sucking draws that have him groaning and begging, you sink down again, fighting the need to breathe, captivated by each novel new image your mind supplies. All the while, he tries to match you, lashing your clit, fingers drumming your g spot as the other wraps your ponytail around his fist. When you whimper around him, his sac tightens against your nose.

“Fuck, I'm going to come,” he growls in warning, yet still you stay, knowing what is coming and craving it.

A pulse runs the length of his cock, and then you feel it, a thick salty rope shooting right into your throast that tastes like victory and desire. You suck and swallow all you can as you pull up, needing to breathe, and as he sings your praises, you nuzzle him, licking him clean as if it was the tastiest treat in the world.

“Your turn,” his warning glittering and smokey with promise. 

It's then you experience your first orgasm high on drugs. Your body on fire as he expertly suckles, swirls, and even bites your swollen, soaked flesh, fingers buried deep in your leaking pussy, like he lives only for your nectar and rapture.

“You taste like heaven,” he groans, as you keep kissing his cock while it softens, something for you to wrap your lips around, to muffle your screams as he pushes you towards heights you have never scaled. Hyperaware of everything: sounds, smells, his touch, the sight of him pinned under you, so very eager to please. You reach out and grab his hand, lacing your fingers together tightly just as you tumble over the edge. 

Fireworks, lightning, strobe lights, all multicoloured, going off in your mind as you float high above as if an untethered balloon, at once a million miles away and yet also rooted so deep in your body, feeling everything in every nerve, every cell, every synapse fire. 

He moves behind you as you collapse to one side, breathlessly panting, mind adrift, curling up almost foetal, overloaded by everything. Wrapping his warm body like a protective shell around you, his nose buried in your hair, his arms caging you, his legs bracketing yours.

“That was transcendent. Truly magical,” he murmurs, dazed, and you have to agree.

No taglist as these drabbles are short