#ic markets oil

[awesome-casuallyfamouscollector]

A looming crisis is brewing in China, as hundreds of thousands of unsold, polluting gas-powered vehicles may be rendered unsellable due to incoming emissions rules. It’s another sign that the global auto industry isn’t ready for the shift to EVs and will be caught unawares if it doesn’t ramp EV production fast enough.

The new Chinese emissions rules were announced all the way back in 2016 and are set to go into effect in July. This gave automakers almost seven full years of notice to get it together and prepare to produce and sell less-polluting vehicles, more than enough time to bring a new model fully from original conception to production.(..)

Automakers seem to have planned to continue selling polluting vehicles up until the deadline, but then COVID hit. This affected the production of vehicles but also affected purchases. Auto sales dropped, and while sales have started to recover somewhat, most of that recovery has been in EV sales, while ICE sales are still depressed.

Dealership foot traffic is high, but customers simply aren’t buying. This has left dealers with a huge glut of polluting vehicles and a ticking clock that will make them unsellable in July(..).

Tesla as a case study

Tesla started selling cars in 2008, and 100% of those cars were electric. But it only really got into “mass production” in 2012-2014 with the Model S. At the time, one could look at a chart of sales trends of the Model S versus competing models like the BMW 7-series, Mercedes E- and S-class, Lexus and Audi offerings, etc., and see a strange dip in all of them which coincided with the rise of Model S sales. Tesla wasn’t creating a new market, it was eating the market that existed – and fast.

And these trends continued with other models. It was clear that EVs – as long as they were designed to take advantage of the inherent benefits of electric drive and sold with purpose rather than as compliance vehicles – were going to take market share from gas cars.

P.S. West’s legacy automakers were heavily dependent on profits obtained in Chinese car market! Now, their business model based on ICE vehicles is collapsing because old companies mostly ignored development of affordable EVs...!  The similar events will occur elsewhere in the world in the coming years, and many legacy automakers foolishly are not ready to change their approach to EV manufacturing...

[youthchronical]

'Too much doom and gloom': OPEC chief is bullish on oil demand despite extended production cuts

The head of oil producer alliance OPEC brushed off forecasts of dwindling crude demand in the coming year, saying there was too much pessimism in the market — despite the group extending production cuts just one day prior in an attempt to shore up prices amid subdued global consumption. “Well, for OPEC, we have demand growth this year at 1.9 million barrels a day,” OPEC Secretary-General Haitham…

[uniqueeval]

WTI rebounds 2%, closes above $67 per barrel

U.S. crude oil rebounded more than 2% on Wednesday, regaining some ground after prices closed at the lowest level in nearly three years in the previous session. “Crude Oil has rallied back aggressively,” Bob Yawger, executive director of energy futures at Mizuho Securities, told clients in a note. Yawger said the rally could be due to “Hurricane Francine churning up the US oil patch in the Gulf…

[rabbitrah]

A continuation on my post about unloved foods, specifically this is my in-depth defense of root beer.

Root Beer isn't inherently gross, it's just one of those weird local flavors that's off-putting to people who didn't grow up with it. We all like different things and also we all tend to like flavors that are similar to what we grew up with. That's okay! But honestly root beer is pretty unique and, in my opinion, delicious.

One of the main complaints against root beer is that it tastes like medicine. Funnily enough, it was originally marketed as medicinal! This is true for most OG sodas actually. Pretty much as soon as carbonated water was invented, people were drinking it to soothe various ailments. A lot of the original soft drinks were actually invented by pharmacists. I just think that root beer is especially cool because the main flavor came from the root bark of sassafras, a common North American shrub. Because it's so widespread and aromatic, all parts of the sassafras plant have been used in food and medicine by many different Native American tribes throughout history and was subsequently picked up and used by European colonists. In the 1960s, some studies indicated that that safrole oil, which is produced by the plant, can cause liver damage. Whether or not this would actually remain true after it had been boiled and added to root beer is unclear, but it was really easy to replicate the flavor, so the sassafras in commercial root beer these days is artificial. Another fun fact about safrole is that it's a precursor in the synthesis of MDMA. None of this information has stopped my childhood habit of eating sassfras leaves right off the shrub whenever I walk past it on a hike. I'm like 85% sure it's safe and also mmmm yummy leafs go crunch.

Another root beer complaint is that it tastes like toothpaste. I think this is probably because another key flavor in most root beer recipes is wintergreen. I'm assuming that the people who think this are the same people who think mint chocolate chip ice cream tastes like toothpaste. I can understand and even respect that some people don't like mint and associate it only with brushing their teeth, but like. Mint is a pretty common flavor. I mean I think it's safe to say that humans have been eating mint flavored stuff for longer than toothpaste has existed... anyway!

Other common flavors in root beer (real or artificial) are caramel, vanilla, black cherry bark, sarsaparilla root, ginger, and many more! There's not one official recipe, and root beer enthusiasts often have strong opinions about different brands. Some root beer is sharper, with more strong aromatic flavors, and others are mild and creamier.

Another thing I think is cool about root beer is that it's foamier than most sodas. This was originally because sassafras is a natural surfactant (and why sassafras is also a common thickening agent in Louisiana Creole cooking.) These days, other plant starches or similar ingredients are added to keep the distinctive foam. Root beer foam > all other soft drink foams. That's why root beer floats kick more ass than like, coke floats.

If you've never had root beer before, imagine if a sweetened herbal tea was turned into a soda, because that's basically what it is. If your first response to that is a cringe, fair enough. That's why lots of people don't like it. If your first response to that is "interesting... I might actually like it, though" then I encourage you to track down a can of root beer today, hard as that might be outside the US and Canada. Next time you see an "ew, root beer tastes like medicine/tooth paste" take, know that there's a reason for that, but also the same could be said for literally any herbal or minty food/drink.

My final take on root beer is that it would be the soda of choice for gnomes. Thank you and good night.

[misserabella]

the farmer’s daughter

dbsf! abby x fem! reader

summary; abby knew it was wrong to like you. you were her best friend’s daughter. but she couldn’t help it.

cw; +18 minors dni!, reader isn’t shy!!!, nudity, body worshipping, kissing, begging, tit and nipple play, oral sex (r receiving), praise, use of nicknames instead of y/n, hair pulling…

she knows she shouldn’t. you’re her best friend’s daughter. but she couldn’t help herself.

it was a hot july afternoon. the sun was bathing her freckled skin and broad exposed shoulders. sweat was running down her face in salty droplets that she swiped away before they could reach her sky blue eyes.

she had been helping her best friend for hours on his farm, soiling the ground for the autumn and helping him out with some oil and tire changes for his truck.

“some lemonade?”

and there you were. in your denim short jumpsuit with just a mere bikini underneath. you were a sight for sore eyes. with tanned skin exposed for her hungry ones.

“thanks honey.” you father gave you a smile as he took one of the glasses being offered, gulping down the sweet iced lemonade.

“thanks.” abby said, taking the other, and you gave her a nectar grin.

“i’m going to the lake for a little bit with laura.” you informed your father, who nodded.

“okay, you two be careful out there, yeah? don’t wantcha drowning.” he ordered in his deep accent. you snickered.

“i would never.” you gave her a soft kiss on his sweaty cheek. “good luck with your truck!” you quickly waved as you ran towards the field, where your friend was waiting for you, towels in hand.

abby watched you go, your beautiful hair waving against the wind and shining under the sun. what she’d do for a kiss of your lips…

“sweet isn’t it?” you father inquired, tasting the lemonade you’d made for them, although abby was not really thinking about the lemonade when she answered.

“yeah. real sweet.”

-

when you got back to your house, your father was nowhere to be seen.

abby was in the kitchen, drinking a cold beer to fight the warmth of the summer.

you were dripping wet, your clothes and towel hanging on your arm as your drenched hair let droplets fall onto the skin of your chest.

“where’s dad?” you inquired, leaving your things on the kitchen table and opening the fridge, bending over to retrieve some lemonade.

“went out to the market. said he needed to buy some stuff.” she said, her eyes roaming your body; the arch of your back, the nipples poking through the top of your bikini, your perfect little ass… abby gulped down another mouthful of her beer, feeling the heat of the summer on her throat.

you hummed. “probably ingredients for dinner. he’s been craving my meatloaf.” you smiled at her, jar in hand.

you took a glass and poured some of the lemonade in it, hurriedly gulping it down in a frenzy. desperate.

abby seemed amused. “thirsty?” you hummed, finishing down your drink and spilling some of it down your chest. if your skin would be sweet before, now it could make her teeth rot.

“it’s so hot outside.” you gasped. abby’s eyes followed the droplets as they found your cleavage.

she shook her head, taking a cloth from the counter to walk over you and press it against your chest. “so clumsy…” you looked up at her, into her ocean eyes, feeling your heart beat faster at her closeness. abigail anderson, your father’s best friends since you could remember. 6,3ft of pure muscle and inches of blonde braided hair that reminded you of the wheat your father reaped. she was strong, kind, intelligent and really, really attractive. your eyes roamed her face, the scar on her left cheek, the little freckles that have shown on her nose due to the sun, her long eyelashes, her supple pink lips…

“sorry…” you muttered, unconsciously biting on your bottom one. her eyes followed the motion, quickly returning to your eyes.

she pulled away, clearing her throat. “you’re drenched.” she said. “your father would kill you if he saw you wetting the floor.” you chuckled.

“you’re right.” and that’s when a glorious idea came to your mind. you turned around pulling your hair to your front to expose the laces of your neck and back. “do you mind?” you looked over your shoulder at her, and abby frowned. before she realized what you wanted her to do.

“oh… sure.” she said with a cough, coming up from behind you. you felt your skin rose in goosebumps when her fingertips graced your skin, holding onto the strings of the bow of your back before slowly pulling. she gulped. slowly undoing it. you took a deep breath, standing still, your heart deafening. once it’s strings were hanging by your sides, abby slowly moved to the one surrounding your neck. the time she took to get it undone seemed to stretch out. abby’s tongue wetted her lips. she could feel her stomach churning, her hands shaking. you felt the top fall. you didn’t even bother to catch it, letting it slide down your navel, exposing your supple breasts and perky nipples.

you slowly turned once again, the piece of clothing abandoned at your feet. and abby felt like she couldn’t breath, faced with your nudity. with your beautiful exposed skin. your cheeks were reddish under her gaze. you felt small and delicate under it. as if you could break. maybe you wanted it.

“what are you doing?” she breathed out, her throat dry.

“you don’t like it?” you muttered, and she quickly let you know it was nothing like that.

“no, no… it’s just…” she sighed. “you shouldn’t be… we shouldn’t be…” but again, you were looking at her with those pretty doe eyes, offering yourself in a silver platter for her to devour. and abby was a weak woman. “fuck it.” she growled, shortening the distance that stood between the two of, cupping your plush cheeks with her warm hands to bring your lips to hers. it was devastating. how they felt. soft. sweet and sour.

you hummed, your back arching against her as you got on your tiptoes to reach her lips. she tasted like beer, and cigarettes, salty due to the sweat that coated her skin. fresh pines engulfed your senses as you pulled on her braided locks. her tongue pressed against your lips in invitation, and you opened up for her, moaning on her mouth. she pressed against you until you were against the kitchen counter, her hands leaving your face to slowly drift down your neck to your shoulders, elbows, hips, and lastly your thighs, pulling you up the cold surface. you gasped as it made contact with your skin. or maybe it was her hands on your waist, the same hands that now were hungrily kneading at your breasts, fingers tweaking your hardened nipples. you whimpered when she left your lips, her mouth leaving wet kisses down your neck.

“abby…” you breathed out, her name tasting like honey on your lips. “please.” it was as if your words had power over her, one simple plea and she was down on her knees for you, dying to worship you like some kind of god. you stared at her from above, as she looked at you through her blonde lashes. her hands were on top of your thighs, shaking in need to touch you in places no one has ever touched you before.

you opened your legs for her. a silent invitation as your hands went to the strings of your bikini bottom, pulling at the laces on your hips until it was loose, barely hiding you from her. but not for long, ‘cause you were pulling at the piece of clothing to drop it on the floor, where your top laid.

“fuck…” the blonde cursed at the sight of you, at the sight of your sticky folds, exposed twitching leaking hole and your puffy reddish clit. the next curse that filled the air came from your lips as her own wrapped around that throbbing bundle of nerves, her hands pushing your thighs over her strong exposed shoulders for a better angel.

“shit, abby… yes, just like that, please…” your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your jaw falling slack as a pant left your lungs. her tongue was hungrily lapping at your slick, she was starved, yet slow. she wanted this moment to last, maybe for ever. your fingers pushed in between her golden locks, tugging her closer and making her groan.

“ hmm god.” she hummed. “taste so good, baby…” there were fireworks behind your eyelids as your back arched. this was heaven, and you were a sinner for wanting her this bad. abby didn’t mind being one too.

you’re sweet as honey as you drip down her chin, as one of her fingers sink inside of you and you let out this moan that makes her believe you’re certainly an angel if not a god. something holy you must be. for her to push aside the guilt that making you hers brings down her shoulders, that sinks her down to her knees and makes her forget the fact that you’re her best friend’s daughter.

she crooks it up against your g spot, and the fireworks turn into stars.

abby feels like she’s been locked out of heaven for so long… but now, in between your legs, hearing you moan her name, she feels blessed, pure.

she adds another finger, and the stretch makes you cry out as she sucks on your clit. you’re close. and she knows.

“abby, i’m gonna… please don’t stop, please…”

and even if she wanted, she couldn’t. she wouldn’t. not when you beg her. when you plead so sweetly it’s making her rot.

“cum for me, honey. cum for me.” she looks drunk on you, pupils blown, lose strands of her hair sticking to her forehead and lips swollen and shiny on your slick.

and something you do is give it to her. in between moans and cries and whimpers you spill inside her mouth, body shaking in ecstasy.

and abby drinks it all up. scared. terrified. terrified that this would be the last time she will get to taste something as holy as you.

-

a/n; this does not mean my hiatus is over. i just wanted to post something. hope you like it.

[teaboot]

Y'know, despite having tea in your name, I can't find it you've said what your favorite kind of tea is.

If you don't mind, what are your top 3 teas that you'd say people should try?

Oh, like if you enjoy tea and want to try new stuff?

First off, tea (broadly speaking, for readers who aren't familiar) is made of leaves from the tea plant, and the TYPES of tea- White, green, oolong*, and black- just refer to different levels of oxidization. The darker the tea, the more oxidized it is, the higher the tannins are, more bitter it gets, the higher caffeine is.

That said:

First pick, London fog. The kind I like is the customary earl grey tea prepped with milk, sugar, vanilla, and lavender. Feels soft and cozy and lightly floral, but not in a perfume way- best I can describe it is drinking a warm blanket fresh out of the dryer.

Earl grey tea, btw, is a black tea flavored with bergamot oils. Bergamot is a sour-bitter citrus fruit. Oversteeped or scalded, Earl Grey can taste super nasty and bitter-flat, but I like mine steeped for about 3-4 minutes for a milder taste.

Second pick, Gunpowder green tea, chilled. I like mine steeped for about 2-3 minutes in a medium boil, remove the leaves and place in the fridge until cold. Gunpowder tea has more caffeine than most green teas and is very refreshing when iced, in my opinion. Has more of a kick to it than plain ice water, especially after hard exercise. No idea if that's healthy or not, I just like the taste.

Third, Lemon black tea boba with tapioca pearls. Because I know what I fuckin like. Sassy dance

Honorable mentions include Russian Caravan (reminds me of my grandma), Market Spice Rooibos Blend (reminds me of my mom), Chai, Mint Tisane, and Black Tea iced with sugar and lemon.

Enjoy!!

*Edit: I was thinking "warm plant drink with 'oo' in name that steeps red" and wrote Rooibos instead of Oolong in the original. Oolong comes from tea plants, Rooibos does not

[phrandallanton]

ranfren headcannons

I've done everything but posted headcannons and a fanfiction. This won't do. Here's some headcannons of mine! All of them aren't serious so don't take them that way d(>_･ ). Feel free to ask me about any other headcannons I'll definitely give more!

Randal

• if he has any pimples on his face he definitely picks at them untill they pop

• either is really good at math or sucks at math and hates it. (No in-between)(leaning towrds sucking at math more)

• has tear stains on his homework sometimes

• he bathes everyday dispite what people think. (Luther forces him too)

• his hair gets really oily. He has tried to cook with the oil his hair produced once. Nobody ate dinner that night.

• if he's frustrated and you go to poke him he'll scream on top of his lungs, but like the scream that goes from normal yelling to banshee screeching. "stop touCHING MEEEEĚĘƏƏ!!!!"

• gets in a lot of internet arguments about things that don't matter at all ("I think you'll find it's 'whom'.")

• he'd get so mad if he ask you to hold his glasses, and you proceed to carelessly get your fingerprints all over them.

• draws with those "how to draw anime" guid books.

• if he ever took a driving test, he would have already failed the moment he opens the car door.

• loves kraft mac and cheese, double points if it's in shapes of popular marketable characters.

• now thinking of it, if he was a pasta dish he would be kraft mac and cheese.

• bites his toe nails off (gross) Luther tried to get him to stop but he probably does the same thing when no one is around.

• sneezes weirdly. Like..."ah...ah...AH CHOOwoowoowoowoo..." and shakes his head. Or if he's covering it in his elbow it'll sound like a trumpet horn.

Luther

• he can dance but it's weird.

• if you tell him a joke he'll turn it into a life lesson.

• he wins every staring contest. However if your eyes start watering he'll get worried and start begging you to blink.

• treats women (and everyone) with so much respect, but he won't hesitate to punch a women if he really has to.

• *shakes his indext finger* "no no no"

• Randal probably tried to set him up on a blind date, he didn't like that. It was very awkward to say the least.

• genuinely gets happy when there are bagels at the function.

• when asked for advice, it'll sound like he's going to say something really meaningful and life changing, but then does a complete 180. "Oh, you think your ugly? Well people will have their opinions about you and ...well... you aren't the best thing to look at. But there's worst out there ♡."

• I can see him gobbling up some cheese and broccoli.

• has a walk in closet filled with clothes and accessories he doesn't wear.

• he 100% definitely has the goofiest giggle in the planet.

• eats ice cream with his front teeth.

Nyon

• I will stand by this till the day I die, he's really funny. He has a really good sense of humor. But I could also seem him not understanding jokes too. But at the same TIIIMMEE I feel like he'd be naturally funny.

• he knows lots of slang and pop culture due to watching TV a lot and probably quotes stuff in his head. (Maybe out loud if he was talking to you)

• has a lot of opinions, will never say them out loud, even when asked.

• he's the smartest out of everyone, including Luther.

• easily amused. please give him one of those little fishy nightlights. He'd enjoy looking at it so much.

• he's good at card games and Nyen doesn't like that. (Nyen has stabbed him over games of uno)

• has a really funny looking smile. (There's that one drawing in the Christmas comic where he's smiling weird after he saw Luther's reaction to the fire place tape he made for him)

Nyen

• listens to death metal but then listens to a jpop song right after. ("Can't let gang know I fw this")

• good at math, sucks at reading.

• loves hearing about drama and will be nosy.(come on man he loves Judge Judy and romance novels)

• sounds like Tom from Tom and Jerry when he yells.

• he calls himself "The Tom Cat" and (canonically) "Top of the pets in the house hold" which is practically the same as "I'm the alpha" so he's probably has said that.

• sucks at card games. Will legit end up with half of the pack of cards in his hands in the middle of an uno game.

• actually the weakest of them all. (I won't go into all that right now. But I can definitely beat him up in a fight, just sayin.)

•him and Nyon probably have times where they stay up and chit chat for a bit before they sleep, Example (from my old notes I had):

Nyon high on weed:...why do we call oranges..oranges...but we don't call apples...reds..??..

Nyen:....sh*t...you got a point... does that mean we would call lemons: short yellows and bananas: long yellows so it doesn't get confusing?...

*they then discuss this for an hour or so*

• Snores really really LOUD. Sounds like a car.

• oddly very ticklish I bet.

~~~~~~

That's all I have now. It's 2 in the morning and I'm falling asleep. I might write other characters headcannons later.

"I'm going to sleep" -bop it

[six-eyed-samurai]

AGAIN AND AGAIN - A REINCARNATION AU

A/N: Help, what have I done? Sorry if this doesn't fit the characters, I was writing it sleep deprived and as neutral as possible. Support me and my poetry (that I came up with in the shower)

Heavens blessed me with you

The Knight, who when your parents announced you would marry you off to some elderly Lord, kept true to his word and took you away, escaping into the clashing colors of freedom and love in another kingdom far, far away, only for your world to darken into black and white once more when your enraged parents caught up and had him executed; it was now your turn to keep your side of the oath and join him in the afterlife when you drank the poisoned chalice.

In every rebirth

The Roman General who passed by you, lashing out any "potential buyer" when he walked disgusted through the slave market - he bought you freedom and yet somehow you stayed with him forever willingly cuffed by shackles of affection...until he died of an assassination and you were hung for having an "affair" with someone of higher class, but not before you both screamed to whatever god that would listen to come back to each other once more.

I promise I'll find you

The Baker who's never cared a penny about the other air headed girls from his small British village until you, a young noble lady recently moved into the old Baskerville Manor, turned up requesting his help in setting a banquet. Excuses after excuses pile up from both sides in an attempt to extend your brief time together but soon, oh, too soon, you leave as per your family's orders and he's left to wonder how you're doing now, because after years and years of searching they refused to let him in.

Through tears, death, dreams and mirth

The White American who finds you working day in day out at the laundry lady's for little to no pay, so from his not so small tips grew to slipping love letters through the pockets of his clothes, but soon you're fired and bade to leave for your skin colour and he's still bitterly cursing the townspeople for their blind racism.

And I know it's just a gamble

The Hockey player who grins at you who always shows up to his games in every match until he asks you out on an ice skating date, but alas, how could he have known that the day you finally showed up in his jersey, much to his delight, would be the day a crazed fan clubbed you on the head with his own hockey stick, much to your doom? He left the industry as cold as the rink.

Unfair, repeated roll of dice

The F1 Racer who whines about the most ridiculous problems happening to his car and making bad impressions of the other drivers just to see his beloved mechanic even crack a smile - no oil or dirt stained on you could ever dim that brilliant smile when you both went on a joyride together into the sunset...oh, wait, his death on the track did.

But in this temporary, fleeting

The Roommate who knows exactly what you want for breakfast every morning, and soon it spiraled into having a meal together for lunch and dinner too, especially when he added candles and rose petals! You still make your coffee the same way he did even after your studies took you abroad and both of you decided it was for the best to break up.

Moment in fast ending time

The Landlord who did NOT expect such a cute little you to move on when he decided to make a little cash on the side renting out his spare room...never mind, it's still on rent because now you've moved into his room. He managed to save your photo album from the charred remains of your house though...although he couldn't save you.

Tell me, oh tell me

The Drug dealer who just recently entered your big brother's gang, who protected you with his scrawny body every time any sexually frustrated asshole came to harass you. Your declarations of love didn't come in heartfelt words or gifts but a smoked joint with each other. You both didn't get delusional, because why should you when your fantasies were right in front? It was the same when you overdosed after someone ratted him out and sent him to a life sentence in prison.

Darling love of mine

The Mafioso who charms you with his suave words and cool under fire attitude, causing you to giggle and kick your feet whenever he came back to your door with flirtations and blood on his face from those who disrespected the mob boss's goddaughter. It was the classic romantic Italian dinner when he got down one one knee...except for the part when his rivals arrived to gun him down and you're left staring at his broken body and shattered ring.

You're just as lost

The Neighbour who had no idea the babysitter for the kids next door would be so goddamned FINE - if only he hadn't fumbled and stumbled over his words in the elevator! But that's alright, even little Ray and Katie are rooting for him and you! Your first date might not be fancy, but he was more starstruck in awe of you than he was of the night sky as you sat on top of the roof.

In paradise

"I feel like I've know you all my life."

"In every lifetime?"

"Maybe!"

And somewhere deep inside, you both knew it for certain: the endless cycles of pain were finally broken.

"I'm so glad of whatever karma that I did in my previous life got me to meet you!"

"You better continue it in this life so I can see you in the next one!"

Not karma, actually, but a series of broken promises finally repaired.

***

Sukuna, Giyuu, Kokushibo, Gojo, Takemitchy, Mikey, Ranpo, Nikolai, Kirishima, Hawks, Kakashi, Nishinoya, Kuroo, Toji, Kazutora, Nanami, Eren Yeager, Gyutaro, Kunikida, Zuko, Yuta, Inumaki, Levi, your favourites!

[360iris]

For me, the vibe drastically shifts when I think of the moon knight system individually—

Like there’s Steven, who’s very sweet and accommodating. He’s easy going but just the right amount of snarky that never fails to make you snort with laughter.

He’s the kind of person I’d want to go to Starbucks with and order a large refresher only to walk around Target for a good two hours like it’s the mall or a farmer’s market.

Steven is Tuesday nights spent sprawled out on a modest sized couch, the two of you wrapped under a large blanket and trying to be respectful of each other’s space as you’re both self conscious of how much space you’re taking up.

But eventually, your calves are touching and ankles are interlocked as you’re leaning over him to get something off the end table.

It’s him standing at the bathroom sink, brushing his teeth and intently listening as you rambunctiously complain about obnoxious coworkers and customers over the noise of the shower running, shampoo being massaged into your scalp and rinsed from your hair.

He’s the partner you spent your adolescence daydreaming about.

And then there’s reserved, calculated and partially measured Marc. He’s quiet in an attentive sort of way, the type of big, semi-permanently grumpy guy who’ll take mental notes of literally everything that has to concern with you.

For example, he’ll pinpoint the exact pieces in your wardrobe you’re more inclined to pull out and wear before anything else in your closet— and he’ll always be sure to have washed, folded and returned them to their drawers so that they’re ready for you to pull on again at the end of the day.

It’s the kind of act of service that’s so subtle, you don’t realize he’s been doing it for months.

This man will fully memorize your go-to restaurant orders and act like it’s simply a coincidence when the waiter arrives and he’s just finished flawlessly reciting what you want, for you.

He knows what things you tend to somehow always forget to pack in your purse for work and will neatly line them up on the kitchen bar so that you couldn’t possibly miss them (you still forget to take them though… and after a while, he just starts packing your work bag for you. It doesn’t take long and he finds it’s nice that it gives him something to do.)

Marc is Sunday mornings spent baking cupcakes, lining the counters with different flavored box mixes, eggs and large ceramic bowls. Splashes of vanilla extract, tins smeared with butter and coated in flour for easy removal. The smell of sweet chocolate icing filling the air.

The two of you taking turns alternating from dish duty to prep. Pressing indulgent kisses in between his shoulder blades as he whisks eggs into oil and water like the yellowy yolks owe him money.

The way you serenely clean up behind him— a little spilt cake mix here, or broken eggshells there— doesn’t go unnoticed or unappreciated. The small gestures really go miles for him.

Marc wordlessly gives out tender pecks, against your temple or at the nape of your neck just because. He’s comfortable silences and fingers warmly intertwined.

He’s the man you find yourself stealing glances at when you think he’s not looking, wondering how you got so lucky.

And last, but never least, there’s Jake who’s hardy, spartan and disciplined. A true product of his environment and circumstances. Someone who learned from their oppressors and surpassed them in their capacity for brutality. The thing about Jake however, is that he has a great proclivity for gentleness as well.

Jake is Wednesday nights, the two of you undressing layer by layer, garments piling into a neat stack to later be placed into the laundry hamper. Jake resting his chin over your right shoulder, his arms wrapped around your middle as you fold your pants and his shirt.

He’s knelt alongside the white garden tub, his hand under the running water from the facet, adjusting the temperature as needed. Eucalyptus scented suds and bubbles fill the space around you as your back rests against his chest.

With his hands brought around your front, he peels one of the set of three clementines you’d brought from the kitchen. Hand feeding you segmented pieces to be lazily gnawed at, soft sloshes and splashes sounding at your feet as you wiggle your toes in the comfortable silence. The two of you exchanging hushed mumbles.

He’s cold nights with chill air slashing your cheeks, a steady chocolate stare he fixes you with as you shuffle in place in front of him. His neck craning as he leans forward, a gloved hand encasing your hands clasped at your mouth and moving them aside— his lips pressing against yours wordlessly.

He’s the protector you only ever heard about in passing stories.

[novlr]

What are some ways to describe summer ?

Summer is not just a season; it’s a vibrant setting that can add life and color to your writing. Whether you’re crafting a sun-soaked romance or a beach thriller, the way you describe summer can immerse readers in your story. Let’s dive into how you can capture the essence of summer, focusing on the various senses and elements that make this season unique.

Sights

Sunsets that paint the sky in hues of orange, pink, and purple.

Children chasing ice cream trucks down suburban lanes.

Sunbathers dotting the coastline.

Sprinklers casting rainbows across freshly mowed lawns.

Flower gardens in full bloom, a riot of colours.

Sunglasses showing reflections of the bright world.

Sun hats and flip-flops scattered around pool decks.

Fireflies illuminating the night.

Street markets bustling with locals buying fresh produce.

Hikers on forest trails.

Sounds

The cacophony of cicadas in the late afternoon.

Waves crashing against the shore in a constant rhythm.

The sizzle and pop of barbecues in backyards.

Children’s laughter as they play outside.

Ice clinking in glasses of lemonade or cocktails.

The distant whirr of lawn mowers.

Splashes and shouts from swimming pools.

Chirping songbirds greeting the morning.

The crackle of bonfires during cool summer nights.

The melodic chimes of ice cream trucks roaming the streets.

Smells

The salty tang of sea air at the beach.

The overpowering scent of chlorinated pools.

Freshly cut grass after morning lawn care.

The scent of sunscreen and tanning oils on warm skin.

The smoky aroma of grills at a neighborhood cookout or family barbeque.

Fragrant blossoms like jasmine and roses in full bloom.

The earthy smell of rain on hot pavement.

The mix of fruits, vegetables, fried food, and flowers at an open-air market.

Melting tar with an accompanying heat shimmer on hot roads.

Campfire smoke clinging to clothes and hair during outdoor adventures.

Activities

Beach volleyball games, sand flying as players dive for the ball.

Leisurely picnics in the shade of ancient trees.

Hiking trips taking advantage of the long daylight hours.

Sailing and boating, the wind filling sails on sunlit waters.

Outdoor concerts, where music floats on the warm night air.

Road trips with car windows down, hair whipping in the wind.

Fruit picking in orchards and berry farms.

Camping under the stars, a tent and a sleeping bag for a home.

Water fights with hoses, water guns, and balloons.

Attending summer festivals full of food, music, and dance.

Character body language

Wiping sweat from the brow or fanning themselves to cool down.

Squinting against the harsh sunlight or seeking out spots of shade.

Sipping cold drinks, or gulping down water.

Lounging lazily, limbs relaxed and sprawled out.

Applying sunscreen meticulously.

Adjusting sunglasses or hats for better protection.

Dipping toes tentatively into the sea or a pool.

Tugging at clothes sticking to sweat-dampened skin.

Laughing with carefree abandon, a reflection of summer’s ease.

Turning pages of a paperback with fingers damp from pool water.

Positive descriptions

The liberating feeling of diving into cool water on a scorching day.

The tranquil peace of a sunrise beach yoga session.

The simple pleasure of ice cream melting on the tongue.

The bliss of a hammock nap swayed by a gentle breeze.

The joy of endless blue skies promising adventure.

The warmth of sun-kissed skin after a day outdoors.

The satisfaction of a well-tended garden coming to life.

The contentment of sharing a sunset with loved ones.

The thrill of catching the perfect wave while surfing.

The comfort of balmy evenings spent on porch swings.

Negative descriptions

The oppressive heat making the air feel thick and suffocating.

The relentless buzzing of mosquitoes on a muggy night.

The sting of sunburn after a day of neglecting sunscreen.

The frustration of packed tourist spots and overcrowded beaches.

The exhaustion induced by long days and sweltering heat.

The discomfort of air thick with humidity.

The annoyance of sand finding its way into every nook and cranny.

The disappointment of a rained-out picnic or canceled event.

The lethargy of a heatwave, energy sapped by the relentless sun.

The discomfort of trying to sleep in an overheated, uncooled room.

Helpful Adjectives

Scorching

Balmy

Sultry

Languid

Radiant

Dazzling

Parched

Breezy

Rippling

Sweltering

Sunny

Lush

Blistering

Tropical

Vibrant

Humid

Verdant

Golden

Glowing

Fragrant

Torrid

Tranquil

Crisp

Sizzling

Flaming

Steamy

Refreshing

Shimmering

Lazy

Stifling

Invigorating

Sparkling

Zesty

Fervent

Stuffy

Arid

Saturated

Juicy

Sunbaked

Fetid

[awesome-casuallyfamouscollector]

The report also describes a subset of nomads called “one and done”:

Nomads who own a brand once and leave are also known as ‘One and Done’ – about 58 percent of Nomads left their brand in the 12 months ending July 2022. That’s the highest ‘One and Done’ rate (defection rate of Nomads) in at least 10 years, according to data analysis by S&P Global Mobility(..)

Obviously, as a newer brand, Tesla would have more first-time owner, but it’s its ability to retain those owners that is so impressive: While Tesla’s high share of first-time owners (83%) isn’t too surprising, their ability to keep those new customers is extraordinary. Tesla’s ‘One and Done’ rate is just 39% compared to 58% for the industry (remember, a lower number is better in this case). The next-best ‘One and Done’ rate goes to Ford at 50%. However, Nomad share of Ford’s return-to-market households in less than half of Tesla’s(..)

P.S. This is no surprise, because the new generation of ICE vehicles are quite complicated, unreliable and their maintenance and repair costs are much higher than the previous generation of cars (blown turbines, broken automatic transmissions, broken timing chains, oil leaks, coolant leaks, excessive oil burning, malfunctioning sensors, malfunctioning climate control systems and the list goes on and on) even for some premium cars that literally fell apart by barely reaching 50,000 miles...! Of course, car buyers are looking for alternatives...: Currently, ICE vehicle technology has exhausted its opportunities for growth and development...

[mickstart]

Do you have any more inconsequential headcanons for Ratiorine/them individually? Like favorite food, color, ect. Just stuff that doesn't really matter but is fun to think about lol

Oogh okay. Well. Consider Aventurine's favourite food being a really simple stew he can vaguely recall his sister making that's kind of been Lost with the loss of the avgin culture. Until Ratio goes on an intense research deep dive and puts his cooking skills and his historical skills together to figure out what it was and how to make it. I don't think I can do justice to how aventurine feels eating it again - how it's both melancholic and happy, how it sends him back to simple but hard days, how both Ratio and his sister loved him enough to make this for him despite barriers and that makes it taste the same all these years later.

Ratio's favourite food is probably something pretty lavish I think. An indulgence like his baths. He pampers himself a Lot and he's a crazy good chef. It's still probably some sort of roast where the only "unhealthy" indulgent part is the amount of oil he uses but the taste is Rich. I don't think he's too big on sweet stuff (except bakklava?) but aventurine LOVES them and pesters him to bake for him.

God now I'm thinking about them grocery shopping ... Aventurine has never really had to Do It. First he wasn't in a position to and then he kind of went straight to having everything delivered to him by the IPC, but ratio cooks for himself and is picky about his ingredients. So he takes him through proper full on farmers markets, hand in hand, examining all the fruit and veg carefully... Both of them getting to experience normal domesticity, checking eggs and picking out the best apples... Aventurine overloads their bags because he sees something he wants it he buys it. Ratio has a strict shopping list that aventurine is ignoring the hell out of. Ratio gives a butcher extremely specific directions for what cut of meat he wants and aventurine is in the fishmongers like "that looks DISGUSTING. How much?"

Aventurine keeps making them stop to buy snacks / try free samples... Ratio rolls his eyes but he's never done any of this either usually he just slams his bust on to cancel out the noise gets his shit and leaves. Now he's eating "artisan waffles" with ice cream and bringing home tacky art pieces because aventurine LOVES tacky and just! AGH! Aventurine getting to experience domestic stuff that has been kept from him! Aventurine discovering the sense of control you get from grocery shopping yourself. Ratio having someone who likes being around him so much they can have fun just going to get groceries!!!!

[honey-minded-hivemind]

💿Reboot AU, Post One, Patient is the Night:

• The breeze is colder than you expected it to be today. It nips at your skin, at your nose, at your cheeks, at your eyes. It stings, as though someone tossed ice on you. But you keep going, taking the old cracked sidewalk to get to your destination.

• It's an old building, with many windows showing off antique tea sets and plates, Christmas trees and baubles, old lamps and costume jewelry, and different paintings and old furniture and knick knacks. The place has been there for as long as you can remember, with its dark green, chipped doors, it's slanted entrance, and it's lack of heating and air conditioning. The old place, the Bay Antique and Flea Market, has three floors: the ground floor, the basement, and the top floor. And inside are booths upon booths, with almost anything imaginable. It also happens happens be where you work.

• Entering the old building causes the bell above the door to ring, and you're greeted by a tired co-worker, who waves you off, letting you go to your section of the antique store. You pass many items, mostly old and vintage, only a few new things sticking out here and there in bright, mismatched colors. There's the large glass display case featuring silver spoons, different large and jeweled rings, mannequin parts displaying necklaces and bracelets on their black velvet shapes, and thimbles and cups and rare toys in protective casing. As you pass that, you slip by the clothing section, full of expensive old fur shawls and coats, old prom dresses as far back as the 60s, feathered and ostentatious hats, pointed heels, and old bows and ribbons and brooches. You turn sharply to the left, wea ing between large oak drawers and stained glass lamps, past the old porcelain cups and mugs and glass goblete and retro kitchen items, further past the fake fruits and oil paintings and old rocking horse, and then you reach the old metal stairs.

• You descend, gripping the middle railing as you go down, reaching the next set of stairs, taking the right set, and then you're in the basement area. Where the ground floor smelled of coffee and leather and old metal, down here smells like mothballs, dust, and old book pages. In the farthest room is a whole book section, with children's books from different decades, science and history and algebra books for homeschooling, ABC and Spanish and hymnals, even old Bibles and trashy romance novels. Next to that section are old costumes and skirts and dresses, donated by older teachers and grandparents and old theaters. You loop through the section, moving quickly past the football team mascot merch and old soda bottles and creepy dolls, and into a section you quite enjoy, amd where you usually stay: the Marvel section.

• You pop your back, then get to work. You start unpacking old comics, each in protective plastic, and categorize them into their appropriate sections. After that you're putting up random T-shirts, with different phrases or characters or motifs on them, from Disney to Deadpool to even chibi Avengers. Once that's over with, you sit down, taking a small break.

• That's when you notice the box

• It's on the display case/desk, worn and dented, with no address or writing, besides being addressed to someone that sounds like some odd hero or villain name. You feel a little put off by it, but with careful hands, you peel back the flaps...

• Huh. There are a few DVD cases, depicting different teenage and adult characters, with some title that includes X-Men. You feel puzzled looking it over, checking the cases and DVDs for damage, but oddly find none, not even a scratch on any of the discs or chipped plastic on the cases. You take a closer look at the title...

• X-Men: Evolution... except when you peer closer, it says by it "the Rebooted Series". Hmmm... You go through your thoughts, trying to think of what you know about any X-Men or Marvek media, but come up short. Huh. So. This could be an old series, one that became lost media. Or could be a fake version. Or it might even just be a prank by some dumb teenager. Well... You're curious, and you could use a good thing, so with that decided, you set up the old TV in your section.

• It takes a few tries, but you figure out the remote, soon turning on the old screen and setting it to AV. You open the case labeled as the first season, and take out the first disc... You shiver, feeling a purckling sensation along your back... but you shake it off, inserting the disc, then press the play button... The screen flickers, a small pop of static, then it sends you to the main menu... You hum lightly, pressing the play all option, and soon it winks out... And then it opens to the first episode, and you breathe out a sigh.

• You watch the first few episodes, enjoying the designs of each character, puzzling over undertones that there are secrets being kept, watching the teams form and dynamics be made, and you grin, a tired, warm tilt of your lips and a settled look in your eyes. It's a comfort, somehow, seeing the adult X-Men and Brotherhood members acting like odd mentors and parents, seeing the teens become friends and teammates, seeing the difference abilities and powers that bring them together... You find yourself feeling calmer somehow, and you soend the next few hours finishing the first season...

• You added a bit of commentary as you watched, and you tilted your head when the characters seemed to pause from time to time, or mentioned they were missing someone, or asked seemingly no one if they were watching, if they heard them, if they could remember what had happened... you feel a deep sadness at that, wondering who they're trying to reach, and what could possibly be wrong...

• Your dream is fuzzy around the edges, dark, as though blurred, but by what you don't know... something is speaking to you, or whoever you're supposed to be... they aren't kind, but your head can't remember what they're saying, it can't focus on what's happening... you feel pain, filling your veins then filling your heart and then filling your mind, drowning you under deep agony... there's a bright light, there's a sharp jolt through your chest, and then everything go numbs, voices settling, darkness swallowing everything whole...

• You jump, waking up. There's no one there... Your head feels weird, thick and groggy, as you struggle back to wakefulness. You can hear the muted voices from the TV, and let out a small breath. You're okay... You're fine... It's just a nightmare, it's just a dream, it can't hurt you...

• You look back at the screen, noting how the characters seemed to stare back for a moment... before resuming their conversation, a few sounding concerned while you started waking up.

• "-not okay, how do we know it's safe-" "-if we don't try now, we won't get another chance-!" "-settle down, please-" "-shhhhh, you woke them up!" "-remind them-" "-miss them-" "-it vill be okay, guys, it has to be-"

• You groan slightly, pulling yourself up to your full height. Your shoulders roll back, firm and strong, amd your legs carry you over to a small mini fridge. You squat down, yawning a little, and pick out a cold coffee. You pop back up, heading back to your seat, and take a minute to down your drink. Your sweater is soft, in a warm shade of brown, and your jeans are a dark gray. Your boots, short bit sporting heels, click together lightly as you bounce your leg a little to help you wake up. You finger your left ear a little, noting your three earrings are still there: a trio of dangling moonstones; a thin silver hoop; and a dark black stud, twinkling like a star. You rub at your eyes, then you're back to being awake.

• You look back at the screen, noting the characters are all getting ready for bed now, and you yawn. They have the right idea... You watch as the episode is finished, and soon the first season is done. You stretch as you get up, then stride over to the TV, popping out the disc, then setting it back in its case. You wander over to the worn box they came in, and sift through the remaining cases...

• There's at least... five, if not six, seasons... And while you really would like to start the second season right away... you think maybe taking a nap would be a good idea...

• "Night, guys... See ya in the morning..."

• As you lay your head back down, pillowing it on your arms, you think you almost hear something... but you're soon winking out, too tired to stay awake a second longer...

• "Night, Reader... we miss you..."

• The screen flickers once, twice... and then it fades out, a quick flash of eyes watching the sleeping teen, before it disappears...

@sugar-soda @vivid-bun @danni1323 @weebwholovesuchihasasuke @thewickedweiner @opossumdaydreamz @ainsellshadewalker @c0ld0utside (Welcome to 💿Reboot AU...)

[angel-of-the-moons]

I'm back again since it's been about a month since I last requested. I hope you don't mind me asking another story. So I was thinking of another Hobie one. There is honestly not enough stories about him and I love the way you write him. I was thinking of a more fluff type thing or possibly head cannons. You decide. Regardless about living with Hobie or just spending some downtime with him. Just a chill little thing I wanted to put out there. Thank you. I love your works and appreciate you 😘

Ilysm!!! I am sorry these asks have been rotting in my inbox! I'm finally working on them!!!

Ice Cream

Hobie Brown x Reader

TW/CW: Marijuana usage

Hobie is obviously aged-up in this

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

• When Hobie isn't rocking out with his band at pubs, or fighting the regime™ or working to save the multiverse with the Old Man, he's at home with you.

• He often slips into the window because he refuses to use the front door like a normal person (even if you live on the fifth floor)

• Hobie would find you wherever you were, on the couch, in the kitchen, in bed or in the bathroom; and would immediately wrap his lanky arms around you and breathe deep and relax every muscle in his body

• "Where've you been?" You tease, easing his spiked vest off his stiffened shoulders.

• "Dealin' with the Old Man and his nonstop bitchin'." Hobie said, clicking his tongue, leaning over to rest his chin on the top of your head, holding you against him once more as you carefully ease the rest of his punk paraphernalia off of his person.

• You lead him to the bed, and pull him down on top of you, using your remote to turn on the sound system, playing some of his favorite music tracks on a low volume for background noise

• "You're a goddamn angel, y'know that, luv?" Hobie sighed, closing his eyes as he listens to the soft patter of your heartbeat

• "Mmh, I try." You chuckle, your fingers idly fluffing his wicks and toying with them as you feel his breathing even out

• And in no time, he's out like a light, sprawled out over you like a lanky starfish

• Forget moving this man, despite his thin physique he somehow finds the magic in him to weigh as much as his old, beat-up van

• You're stuck in bed, so the only thing left to do is give in and join him for a nap

• When you two wake up, you work on your usual routine.

• Hobie helps cook, making homemade chips while you batter and bake some fresh chicken

• Once your lunch/dinner is finished, you both cuddle on the sofa and watch some shitty movie on your telly

• He 100% has gutter humor, as well as a perverted sense of one

• Is also very big into physical humor. I'm talking shoving tissues into his nose and pretending to be a walrus kind of physical humor. Whatever it takes to hear you laugh

• Totally plays his guitar for you, singing punk versions of almost any kind of song (except American country. That shite is a travesty upon the music industry!)

• Will often split his pot with you, either rolling joints or using a bong, he'll always offer you a hit if you need or want it

• If you can't handle it, he'll FaceTime you while he smokes on the roof. That way, you're still together and he isn't negatively affecting your health/personal preferences with his smoking

• If you're sick, Hobie will full on hit the breaks to whatever he's doing to take care of you (provided it's a possibility that he can do that)

• This includes sending a selfie with a middle finger to Miguel telling him to not bug him til you're better

• 100% a master at making simple comfort foods when you're sick. Cheese toasties, chicken noodle soup, vegetable soup, even homemade ice cream. He does it all for you

• Runs you a nice hot bath with some eucalyptus and Epsom salts to help your sore muscles and clear sinuses

• If you're nauseous, he'll put peppermint oil in the water with you and run to the market for some ginger pop to ease your stomach, maybe some ginger root tea while he's at it

• Will also buy you some of your favorite digestives just to make sure you get something solid in your tummy

• Will totally fake threaten you about blabbing to anyone about his "secret soft side" and "ruining his image"

• Everyone already knows, he's just blind as hell and doesn't notice lmao

• This man is 100% loyal. If any gal/pal/guy flirts with him, he will flat out shoot em down

• "Nah, mate. I already got the best partner in crime a guy like me could ever ask for. Nobody c'n compare to that!"

• Always makes sure he never worries you (or at least tries to)

• If Hobie is sick or hurt, positions are reversed and you become his personal nurse

• Totally doesn't pretend to be sick sometimes just so you'll spoil him

• You know he's full of shit when he does though, but you just humor him because he's cute about it

• Yeah, you both put up with each other's shit, but you'd never have it any other way

• However... Hobie definitely knows when he's in trouble.

• "Hobart Brown!" You'd shout.

• Yeah, Hobie could easily feel his blood chill when you use his government name

[alshixxah]

Jenny (I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship)

On a hot summer night in Greece, Lewis contemplates her "best friend" eating sorbet.

Notes: 2.1k, girlcedes, not beta-read, english is not my first language, title and references from a Studio Killers song of the same name, first time writing fanfiction, slightly suggestive at times, in true teenage girl fashion Lewis is going through it, there are too little fics where Lewis is just plainly weird about Nico

This is @sionisjaune's girlcedes anon from like 2 weeks ago. Girlcedes and girl!Nico especially have been haunted my brain an unhealthy amount and spilled out into this foul beast. I swear this was supposed to be a drabble idk how we got to 2k. Once again shoutout to @sionisjaune, I wish (not really) i was joking when i said that their girl!Nico fics have quite literally fundamentally changed the way i see my own femininity and relationship to the concept of womanhood.

It was uncommon for Lewis to ignore a cone of soft serve in front of her, it really was. The view before her, Nico licking so methodically at the strawberry sorbet perched gracelessly on the cone in her hand as if it was a corner she was analysing, had her letting the sticky liquid melt from her own cone gently down her hand. 

In truth, she hated calling her “friend”, but she had no other word for what was between them. A bond so strong, forged over the many years they perfected the art of knowing each other, first as strangers, then friends, then karting teammates, and now vacationeers together in Greece. A bond seemingly so unbreakable that they swore it would survive any rivalries that came from competition, but so stupidly fragile when Lewis thought of words to describe it other than “friends”. 

Nico glanced at her, and wordlessly placed one of the paper napkins from her lap onto hers while gently grabbing Lewis’ ice cream cone. Lewis only took her eyes off of mindlessly rubbing at her hands when Nico spoke. “It's a shame. Cream colours look good on you”. “Better like this. My hands are all sticky”

The air was hot, even at night. She could still smell the night market, two streets down from the sea promenade where they were sitting on the rocks. The heavy spices and oil from their street food dinner had made the air in the market sticky as well, and whether by the wind or them channelling it to come with, the air around them now was sticky too. Lewis knew the napkins were ultimately futile to erase the feeling. While she had spoken, another droplet had escaped Lewis’ cone, and Nico gently tilted her head to lick at it with the tip of her tongue, so as to not get it on her nail. The polish perfectly matched the colour of her sorbet. Lewis wondered if it would taste like it too if placed in her mouth.

The only way to stop this stickiness might be to drown herself in the sea across from them. Lewis didn't know if she wanted to. 

She carelessly stuffed the napkin into the back pocket of her jean shorts and took back her cone without making eye contact. 

“I should paint your nails cream when we get back. We could match. I'm getting tired of this colour” Nico scrunched up her face as she scratched her left thumb across her ring finger. She had only painted her nails two days ago, sat on the sunny balcony floor of their shared room, hunched over and looked like the most beautiful girl on earth Lewis had ever seen. 

“I like it. It suits you, and it matches your ice cream”

“Sorbet”

“It matches your Sorbet”

Nico frowned. “No, you're saying it wrong. Sorr-be”

“That's exactly what I’m saying”

“No you're saying sour-bee. Put your tongue more forward in your mouth like-” Her face froze as she tried to think of a proper comparison. Lewis had never possessed the ease Nico seemingly had when it came to picking up languages. Her tongue stubbornly stuck to only moulding itself around the gentle sloping and stopping of the English accent she was born into. Around the proper way, how she would tease Nico about her German lilt. 

Suddenly Nico snapped out of her trance, and looked at Lewis with that look that told her whatever came next was not a suggestion but a demand. “Open your mouth”

Lewis obeyed without thinking. 

Carefully, like she could shatter Lewis like glass, she stuck her index and middle finger in her mouth and up to her gum, pushing at the space right behind Lewis ́ front teeth.

To any passerby, it must have looked like she was giving her some sort of dental examination. She was so helplessly but willingly at her mercy with two fingers down her mouth. Who would willingly subject themselves to this, she thought, if not for the nauseating agony that toothaches born of avoidance give you? Nobody would so obediently open their mouth, and keep it open, if sweetness would not melt into cavities.

Lewis could only watch as her friend slowly removed her fingers from the mouth she desperately willed to behave from spilling everything sticky she tried to wipe away. In doing so, Nicos nails grazed her tongue. She tasted the sweet flavour of strawberry.

“Put your tongue there. Say it.”

Nicos looked like a spilled bottle of perfume, so intense and penetrating was her look. All Lewis could do was hold it with wide eyes.

“Sorr-be.”

“Good”

“I think I´d like to taste yours, actually” Lewis reached over to take her cone from her and she immediately retorted by taking hers. She had no desire to taste the strawberry in particular, but if she didn't keep her mouth busy it might start telling Nico all its acronyms for their “friendship”. There was a dent in the sorbet where Nico had last licked at it, no bigger than her thumbpad. 

When they found the small ice cream vendor at the end of the market, she had initially hoped to get coconut flavour. They had ventured into the building just on the last street corner from the bustling food stalls like they owned the place, and just for a second Lewis stood back to watch Nico gawk at the spread of flavours before them with such unashamed desire that she so fiercely guarded in public. Desire that was sadly not focused on Lewis.

Stepping into Nicos personal space was always a full sensory experience. For her at least. It occurred to her that when her father only looked at her confused when she once mentioned she could often smell Nico before she entered the room that maybe other people just were not as fixated on everything Nico. God, she needed to get more normal.

Nico matched all of her hygiene products, her body wash, her lotion, her shampoo, down to deodorant and perfume to a scent, and that one scent completely enveloped her entire being.

Well, two scents actually, roses for special occasions, like the celebratory dinner after their last 1-2 finish, and coconut at all other times.

Whenever she knew they would share a room, she made sure to conveniently forget her body wash, or lotion, only to shamefully buy a cheap one in a corner store a few days later to eventually chuck it in the trash when she got home from that particular trip.

The first time showering with Nicos stuff was always like the first time again. Nico would consume her in shockwaves, penetrate her senses and skin in a way that made her almost feel dirtier than before stepping in the shower, and leave her staring at her murky silhouette in the foggy mirror to get a grip and not pounce her “friend” the second she stepped out of their shared bathroom.

It made her nauseous the fourth or fifth time, always. She could not handle it, being so filled and surrounded by something she then had to pretend was her friend, but she could never resist lathering her skin just a couple seconds extra with hands that smelled like Nico. She would buy the other body wash then.

Nico never commented on how often she would forget hers in the first place, or when she would buy the second, or when Lewis never gave her back the shirts she would steal from her.

When she was back in Stevenage, she used them as her pillowcase, just the white back without a print to keep it her secret, so Anthony would think his daughter was normal, and bury her face into them and scream.

She needed to microdose this way, she would lash out and convulse and bloom like a werewolf into something hideous if she indulged on her “best friend” in the way she wanted to.

Maybe that is why she always borrowed her lip gloss only after Nico used it first, or why she wanted coconut ice cream. She could not have the real thing, but something sticky and wet on her lips that she knew was to some degree her “best friends” saliva was all she could allow herself.

She looked at the indent on Nicos sorbet in her hands that glistened in the moonlight. She flattened her tongue against it while closing her eyes. Just a little indulgence. When she looked up again Nico was staring at her, soft serve untouched.

“I'd let you paint my nails. But keep yours. I like them. Plus you painted them like yesterday.”

“No. I want us to match.”

Lewis popped the last of the sorbets cone in her mouth and took Nicos free hand in hers. She closely examined her still pristine nails.

“And that wouldn’t look good on me or what?”

  She gently caressed the nail bed of her elegant pointer finger. Nico, suddenly, as if she remembered she was alive, or as if Lewis had rubbed the death out of her, she grabbed Lewis’ wrist. 

The motion was so sudden it almost scared Lewis if it wasn’t her “friend”. Her hand slowly travelled up her arm and she began to slowly whisper. “No.”

Her hand brushed past the strap of her top as Lewis’ hand came to join hers, “No”.

It tangled itself firmly on the back of Lewis’ neck and Nico pulled her down, down, down, until her forehead was pressed to the sticky expanse of Nicos sweaty naked shoulder and she closed her eyes. "No."

This close she could almost pretend she crawled inside Nicos skin, deep underneath the surface like she was her lungs, or brain, or heart if she wanted to be vulgar. Something precious that would kill Nico to get rid of.

All her senses were assaulted by coconut, but this was the first time that under it she smelled the faint mechanical, almost animalistic floral scent buried deep beneath it. It reminded Lewis of speed walking past the alleyway on her way back from school where everyone knew the cokeheads gathered after 3 p.m. and it made Nico seem just as dangerous.

“Talk to me Lewis”, her best friend for years said above her.

“You terrify me. Paint me every colour you want. Please.”

Nico pulled her up by the scuff of her neck, even when her hands went just shy of jerking upwards and grabbing her hair. There was no place to hide from the other now, nowhere to put yourself except for your lips to move except against each other with restrained obsession against each other. Neither girl could guess how many kisses the other had, even as they refused to break eye contact over the kiss, blue eyes staring in deeply, deeply unsure brown ones.

The string of spit that emerged when they finally broke fell into both their laps at once, where brown legs had tangled with tan ones. Neither made a move to kiss each other again or touch the other further, they just swayed in each other's orbit, like a snake and a flute, panting each others air that was laced with something as sick as devotion.  

“I'm scared.” Lewis finally admitted. “I was scared. You’re my best friend. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship”

At this Nico finally moved, head cocked to the side, eyes wide not in surprise but laser focus, and pressed her soft chest into Lewis’

“Ruin it.” She gripped Lewis’ upper arms with a bruising grip, her flesh spilling out between her fingers, “Do it.”

She feverishly pecked at Lewis’ cheek, “Destroy it. Wreck it. Break our friendship.”

Her hands finally found the courage to angrily weave into Lewis’ hair and she pressed their faces so close that their noses were touching and speaking became awkward. “I don’t want it anymore. We are more than friends. I will follow you to the end, Lewis.”

Lewis’ hands had raked themselves around her shoulders and waist, more leverage to never, ever, let her go, and she needed to restrain her teeth to not make Nico an even bigger part of her than she already was when she crashed them together to kiss again.

“Take me back to the hotel.” Nico said with crazy eyes and her usual restrained voice. “I will paint your nails and never let you use another body wash.”

And the only things that proved two friends were ever there in the first place were an abandoned cone of sticky, melted vanilla soft serve, and the constellations they had given new names that night.

[bluelancess]

Untouchable | Elriel fic part 1/3

Summary: The inner circle is having one of their usual dinner parties, during which Azriel can't help but shoot death glares to Lucien across the table, Elain is the only one who manages to calm him down.

Tags: secret meetings, forbidden love, secret relationship

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Read on AO3.

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Chapter 1: This is falling in love in the cruelest way

The Townhouse was exceptionally quiet today, the only sound filling its empty walls came from Elain’s soft humming in the kitchen. It was a melody she had heard a couple of days back while strolling along Velaris’ farmer’s market. She thought it was sweet, sounded almost a little magical to her ears, she had stopped on her tracks to give her full attention to the street performers, marveling at the way their expert fingers played the instruments, and at how they could attract a large crowd after  only playing a single enchanting note. She was most definitely not doing the song justice, but humming helped her keep her mind away from dangerous black holes that always threatened to swallow her whole, the same way baking and gardening did. 

She was adamant on never letting her mind take her away again. 

Ever.

Elain put the final touches to the delicious meal she was cooking for dinner, and cleaned the palms of her hands on the front part of her light-blue apron. Roasted rosemary potatoes, grilled chicken with lemon zest, honey and mustard, various vegetables she had seasoned earlier; broccoli, peas, a tomato salad with basil and olive oil. 

Cooking kept her busy and occupied most of the time. And it filled her with joy to be able to be helpful in any way she could. Besides, today was one of the Inner Circle’s weekly dinner meeting. Rhysand made it almost mandatory, and considering everyone was busy doing their own thing nowadays, having an afternoon where they could catch up on everything else other than work-related subjects, was a refreshing change. 

Elain had dessert finishing baking in the oven, a blueberry crust pie she was going to  serve alongside some vanilla ice-cream and whipped cream, when Nuala and Cerridwen entered the kitchen, both walked as silently as a ghost would. It used to perturbe Elain at the beginning, them being so silent, but with time she had gotten used to their presence, their company. 

“The table is set,” Nuala said. “We can finish up here.” 

“Thank you,” Elain smiled at her, and slowly removed her apron. Cerridwen extended her hand towards her, so Elain could hand her the clothing item covered in flower. “Is Feyre still asleep?” 

Nuala nodded softly. “She and the babe, both.” 

Elain chewed on her lower lip, concealing the smile that had formed after picturing the image in her head. Feyre lying on her bed, Nyx resting on top on her chest, the tiny wings tucked in, his little chubby hands holding onto Feyre’s gown like he used to do when he slept in that position as if scared Feyre might put him in his crib as soon as he fell asleep. 

“I’ll go change,” Elain told them both, “then I can check up on them.” 

“We’ll clean up here.”

“Thank you.” 

With that, Elain exited the kitchen, and took slow, soft steps towards the stairs. She had already chosen the gown she would wear for dinner. A lavender satiny dress that hugged her curves in all the right places, with hug shoulders, long slit sleeves and a cirde skirt that reached a little under her ankles that flowed when she walked, making her her feel like a real-life fairytale princess. It was her favorite dress as of late. She hadn’t worn it for other people yet, she was waiting for an special occasion. 

This seemed like the right time. 

Considering Az would be here any minute. 

Just thinking about the Shadowsinger brought a wave of unbearable heat cursing through her, warming up her cheeks, her neck, her ears. She needed to learn to control herself, if she wanted whatever was going on between them to remain private. 

Any time she stopped to remember they way Az had looked that one night he came knocking on her window at three in the morning, her whole body shivered, the memory carefully stored in a special place in her heart. It had been the night everything shifted, everything changed, for her. For Azriel. 

No one knew about it. 

No one could. 

Elain had been awake twisting and turning on the sheets, as per usual since their moment at the Winter Solstice, that cursed night that some days, the bad days, she wanted to desperately forget. Forget the way he had touched her and made her light up with so much want, so much need… She had never felt so alive before. Only to end with him pushing her away, such a regretful look in his eyes, telling her that it had been a mistake. But then… there were the good days, those days were she thought about him and hoped, prayed to whatever had interest in hearing her pleas, to have a second chance. To ask him all the questions roaming her head. All the doubts eating at her. 

She never imagined he was feeling the same way. 

But then, as if he were almost as desperate as her, he’d come in the middle of the night, looking like he’d also had been tossing and turning, so many sleepless night catching up to him. She opened the window with her heart on her throat, and he whispered to her to come with him. Only for a moment. He begged with his eyes, a desperation that was so painfully palpable, Elain’s whole chest squeezed at the sight of it. 

Breathless, she took his hand that night. 

It was the first time he took her flying, just for the fun of it. They had made it a habit now. He would knock on her window, she would open it, and he would scoop her in his arms, kiss her brow and marvel at her laughs when he would take off, holding her close to him, showing her the sky. It was those moments, that made Elain feel like she was actually free. 

Elain opened the door to her bedroom, and froze at the threshold, her brown eyes going wide, her traitorous heart beating so fast it reverberated in her ears. 

Azriel brought his index fingers to his lips and it was pure luck she didn't scream when she saw him; sprawled on her bed, boots still on, his wings so big they barely fit the mattress. She licked her lower lip, feet glued to the floor. He looked at her like he wanted to eat her alive, and Elain’s cheeks warmed up. He chuckled, darkly, softly and motioned for her to come forward with his hand, she shook her head like she couldn't believe what he was doing. 

After taking a deep breath, Elain quickly looked over her shoulder before closing the door behind her. She didn’t have time to give a single step, before Azriel got to his feet, and closed the space between them in two exact and calculated steps. 

“You’re insane,” she breathed, lifting her head to look at him in the eyes, he was so tall, it never stoped amazing her, so tall, and so beautiful. Azriel hands went to her cheeks, holding her so gently as if he were scared to hurt her. 

“I missed you,” he simply replied, lifting a shoulder, one of his thumbs caressing her lower lip, his face getting nearer to hers, she could almost taste him. After a couple of weeks meeting in secret, delighting herself with his company, Elain had realized that Azriel liked to tease her. So much. He liked to take things so painfully slow, until she was barely breathing and begging him to touch her, to kiss her, to give her everything. “Just thinking about the fact that I have to sit on that dinner table, unable to touch you for hours, was driving me crazy.” 

Azriel left a phantom kiss on her right cheekbone, then moved to the bridge of her nose. Elain closed her eyes at the contact, savoring the feel of him. Her hands roaming him from his shoulders, down to the muscles of his chest. She loved the way his Illyrian leathers felt under her fingertips. She dreamed of the day she finally would have the opportunity to peel them off of him.

But she couldn’t. They couldn’t. 

Not yet. 

It was too risky, everyone would to know they had been together, their scents would mix, there would be no denying it. And although Azriel was usually cocky and confident when it came to the fact the he most definitely would win a blood duel against Lucien, she couldn't even fathom the idea of Az risking his life in that matter for her. Az kept distributing tiny kisses along her face, like he wanted to pain it all with his lips. It was certainly torture having to wait until they were finally free to fall into the lust consuming their bodies, their souls. But she was completely sure it’d be worth the wait. 

“So you decided to cheat and get a little taste before dinner?” She asked, and he hummed, as he kissed her eyelids, the tip of her nose, the right corner of her mouth. So soft, so gentle. 

“Hmm,” he muttered, “I was actually hoping you wanted to skip dinner altogether.” 

“Because that wouldn’t be suspicious.” He kissed the left corner of her mouth now, and a groan left Elain’s throat, Azriel ignored it and moved down to her jaw. “How long have you been here anyway?” 

“About half an hour,” he replied, voice low, no more than a rumble, but she heard it perfectly, felt it everywhere. He kissed right under her earlobe and Elain bit her lower lip hard, tying to conceal the moan escaping her. “You smell so good.” 

She melted against him the the words, reality crashing into her like a hard wave. Remembering where they were, who that house belonged to. 

“Rhys could get home any minute,” she breathed, he groaned at the name of another male leaving her mouth when he was licking up the column of her neck, her hands grasping his uniform as if she needed it to remain standing. Cauldron, he was killing her. 

“I don’t care,” Azriel replied, sucking gently at the sensitive, pale skin, his hands angling her head, exposing her neck just the way he wanted, the way he needed. “Maybe I should just leave a mark right here,” he whispered, and gently kissed right under her jaw. “Everyone can come to their own conclusions.”

“You wouldn’t.” She teased him, somehow, for some reason, the idea sparked something in her, something feral. She wanted him to claim her, to show everyone that she was his and he was hers. 

That they had chosen one another. 

Damn the consequences. 

 “Someday I will.” He told her, making it sound like a threat. He couldn’t hide the smile of surprise when she let out a breathy moan, as if she could just picture the idea in her head and loved it. 

Elain was about to just grab his beautiful face, get on her tippy toes, and steal a long kiss from his lips, when Azriel stepped away from her, so fast she almost lost her balance. A knock on the door had her spine straightening, her heart jumping. 

“El, are you there?” Feyre. It was her sister’s voice, still sleepy from the nap she had been taking with Nyx. 

She turned around, the door was behind her, she had been pressed against the wood by Azriel's solid body. She swallowed hard, running her fingers through her hair, her face, her neck, she could still feel Azriel lips on her skin, the wet strokes of his tongue, the little painless bites. She was definitely flushed. 

She looked over her shoulder, Azriel was nowhere to be seen, but in the corner of the room, right under the door that connected to her dressing room, a little shadow was peaking, sharp like a knife, as if getting ready to attack if she needed it to. 

“Elain?” Feyre knocked again, and Elain forced herself to take one, two long breaths before turning the knob and opening the door. 

“Sorry,” she told her sister. “I was about to change my clothes. They’re covered in food... you know, from cooking and all that.” 

Feyre yawned, her eyes were glassy and her cheeks rosy from sleep, Elain tried to block the view of the inside of her rooms, just to be sure. But Feyre ignored it, putting one of her hands on her sister’s shoulders and going inside, to lay face first on the bed. 

“Dinner smells so good,” Feyre murmured. “I’m so hungry the smell woke me up. Also, Nyx started to cry. He was hungry too.” 

“You had a good nap?” Elain asked, her voice sounded strange even to herself, but Feyre didn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. 

“Yes, I needed it.” After a beat, Feyre sat on the bed and looked at Elain, the relaxed look on her face from the last couple of seconds going away in a blink. “Actually, I came to talk to you about something.” 

Elain took a couple steps towards her sister, sitting beside her on the side of the bed. “What happened?”

“I just spoke with Rhys, mainly to asked him what time he was coming home for dinner, and he mentioned to me Lucien is in the city. He came because he has some reports he need to give Rhys, and …” Feyre grimaced, she looked worried, almost guilty. “I know it makes you uncomfortable, so I told him to not even think about bringing him tonight before asking you.” 

Elain couldn’t hear anything. Couldn’t breathe. 

She hated this. Hated that cursed mating bond so much. 

All she wanted was to be free of that male, but it was like he didn’t know when to give up. No matter how many hints she sent his way, or the fact that she made it her mission to stay as far away from him as possible. He wouldn’t budge. 

She couldn’t understand how he could continue to pursue her, knowing that it wouldn’t get him anywhere. Lucien couldn’t be so naive to believe she’d change her mind with a couple of expensive gifts and awkward dinner parties where he didn’t even make the effort to see her, understand her. 

But, even if she wanted to say no, this wasn’t her house. Not really. 

It was her sister’s, and her mate’s. She was living there because they were kind enough to let her. Because they cared about her, yes, but that didn’t mean that sometimes, she wished she could have something that was entirely hers. 

Just hers. 

“Lucien is your friend, I don’t want you to not invite him because of me,” the words tasted wrong on the mouth, and the shadows slowly started gathering in the corners of the room, like steam from a boiling pot. 

“Are you sure?” Feyre’s face changed, glowing, “You don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to, I don’t want to ruin your night.” 

“You won’t. It’s fine.” She tried to give her sister a smile. The truth was, at this point, after everything Feyre had done for her and their family, Elain was willing to do, to endure, absolutely anything for her sister. It was the least she could do. 

No sacrifice seemed great enough. Not after everything Feyre had lost, suffered through for them. For her. 

She could be an adult and enjoy one evening with Lucien. Put on a smile, pretend everything was perfect and delicious, and she was happy. Because she was happy. More than ever. She just had to remind herself that once the dinner party was over, and the guests went home, she could return to her little room, and maybe, just maybe, Azriel would be waiting for her. 

And if he was, she’d ask him to take her flying. 

Feyre threw her arms around her sister and kissed her temple. 

“Everyone is getting here in fifteen minutes.” Feyre stood up from the bed and walked towards the door. “I’ll see you downstairs.” 

Elain closed the door as soon as her sister left, and rested her forehead on the cool wood. She felt the spymaster presence at her back, his eyes piercing, his shadows surrounding the four walls of her rooms like he wanted to keep her there, all to himself.

“Did you know he was on the city?” She asked softly, turning around to see him standing right outside her dressing room. 

Azriel shook his head. 

“Rhys ordered me to take care of other business today,” he replied, his voice lethal, scarred hands curling into tight balls, shoulders tense. She approached him, and softly put the pads on her fingers in his hands, willing them to relax, to open up for her and let her in, hold her. 

“It’ll be okay.” 

“I can’t stand it,” he groaned. “I can’t stand the way he looks at you. The smell—“ Azriel took her hands into his, closing his fingers around hers tight, the muscle on his jaw flexing. 

“It’s not easy for me either.” 

“Then let’s not go,” he looked at her like he wanted to whisk her away, show her everything, run and run until no one knew who they were. "Let's go somewhere else, just you and me."

“Az…” His name sounded so charged coming from her lips, like a prayer, a promise, the sweetest of secrets, something she only said when it was the two of them, alone. “We can’t.” 

He let out a long sigh, and rested his chin on top of her head. 

“Don’t ask me to be nice, then,” he said.

“I wasn’t going to.” 

“Good.” 

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this is going to be a 3 part little one shot so enjoy <3