#including the biting one

[meowf4ngs]

more of roommate!ghost bc it's good to know that he can be happy too & he deserves softer mornings.

mdni.

cw: biting mention

prev.

the smell of coffee permeated the flat, the place he used as a minor safe house---to settle down for an hour or two---has now turned into a place where he relaxes in, somewhere he looks forward coming back to, and not the empty place it once was.

and sure, the boys---the idiots he adores but won't admit---have helped tried to decorate the place. the telly that his captain told him to buy, the coffee table that gaz pointed out at a passing furniture store, something to hold documents and his pints; the leather couch that he doesn't regret buying but makes his eye twitch---soap's the one that told him he should blow money on before they all shimmied the damn thing in.

but now---there's her.

his roommate---the little thing that showed up at his door to answer his ad about it on craigslist---he should yell at her for being reckless but that's another days problem.

when he walks into his, their, shared kitchen; he's greeted by the sight of bedhead, too short shorts that makes him rethink of better things---like a cold shower or running straight into traffic.

either way, she's looking over her shoulder---the softest smile he's ever been graced with, his throat tight and his hands turn into white knuckle fists before releasing their grip---a heavy sigh already on his lips, he really needs that cold shower.

"Mornin' Simon," and there's her voice, light and melodic even in the early mornings, sleep lines on her cheeks, the way her eyes sparkle just slightly---he's very much fighting the urge to put her on the countertops of the island, and do something roommates don't do.

ghost's voice is gruff, deep brown eyes flicking towards her outstretched fingertips in the cupboard and back to the sliver of skin of her stomach, "Mornin' sweetheart," and he's already walking over, grabbing the mugs---because she's sweet like that, she bought one for him when she went into town.

a thoughtful bird.

a sweet little thing---he wonders if she's as sweet as she acts.

the coffee gets poured and they're leaning on opposite sides of the countertops, and he can't help but admire her in the light---not especially the way the sweater dips off her shoulder, collarbone showing off---his teeth ache.

her eyes are fluttered shut, lips pressed to the rim of the mug, and he's watching the way her throat swallows---he's a little jealous. especially when she smiles, a shiver down her spine and looking right at him---he nearly chokes.

"Are you doing anything today?" she's asking him, and he's stuck on the way her lips glisten, how she smiles like she's not afraid of him---like he can't just lift her with a single hand--he exhales, soft, slow; which is interesting.

he's never been soft until her.

"No, I'm not," his voice is heavier, deeper---licks at the flames of his thoughts of wanting to add something less than appropriate, but he's got more self-control than most---better than soap anyway that's for sure, he's also pretty sure the Scot would beg to differ, but to each their own.

he's snapped out of his stupor when she breathes a sigh of relief, something of contentment and he wonders how to bottle that noise up, how to take it with him when he's out on the field---wonders how to make her his.

"Really? that's great---we can be lazy today." she's grinning, sipping her coffee once again before moving to make breakfast, the sounds of things moving and her mug being put down.

and ghost just stares, lashes blinking at her--he swallows hard, his heart hammers and he moves his gaze to look at his coffee, the dark liquid rippling back at him.

god, his teeth ache.

god, he needs to sink his teeth into her.

[hailsatanacab]

A Persuasive Argument - dpxdc

"Great!" Danny says, clapping his hands together to get everyone's attention. The dinner table falls silent as everyone looks towards him. It's a full house today and, honestly, Danny's a little nervous. "I'm sure you're all wondering why I gathered you here today."

"It's dinnertime. In our house." Duke mutters, while doing a very bad job of concealing his yawn. He holds his fork poised over the braised beef, but, just like everyone else, still looks towards Danny before tucking in. It's intriguing enough to wait.

"Yeah, no one misses Alfie's dinner." Dick says, with a brilliant smile that Danny can't help but return.

"Precisely! What better time to talk to you all than when you're all actually here!"

"Wait, I thought you came round to work on our English essays?" Tim asks, blinking owlishly.

"I'm afraid I've lured you here under false pretences, Tim."

"This is where I live."

"I would still really appreciate help on that essay though, I mean, what the hell is Hamlet even about? I just don't get that old time-y language, like 'Hark! A ghost hath killed me!' - absolute rubbish, what does that even mean?"

"The ghost never kills anyone in Hamlet, he's there to tell Hamlet that he was murdered. Have you actually read it?"

"No, but it sounds like you have. Tim, I want this guy to help me with my essay instead. I know for a fact that you haven't read Hamlet, either."

"So? We don't need Jason, I've read the Sparknotes."

"Hi Jason, I'm Danny, pleasure to meet you, summarise Hamlet in three sentences or less."

"Am I auditioning to help you write your essays? I can't believe you’ve gone through your whole school life without reading it, it’s good!"

"Hamlet, along with a number of other classics, was banned in our house because it portrayed ghosts as intelligent and sympathetic beings rather than evil, animalistic beasts. I didn’t even get to see The Muppet's Christmas Carol until last year with Tim! It was surprisingly good, and I hate Christmas because everyone always argued and it sucked. But we're getting off topic. I—"

"No, no, please go back to that, because what the fu—"

"Boys, please." Bruce interrupts, looking to the world as if he wants to hang his head in his hands. "Danny, you were about to say something?"

"Oh, yeah, Mr. Wayne! Thanks!"

"Please, call me Bruce."

"Well, that very succinctly brings me to my point, because I'd actually really like to call you dad."

Nobody says a word. Nobody even blinks, all as shocked as the other, watching open-mouthed as Danny pulls his laptop out from beside his chair. Bruce can definitely feel a headache coming on.

"Before you say anything, I've prepared a 69 slide PowerPoint presentation on why you, Bruce Wayne, should adopt me, Danny Last-Name-Pending. Please save your questions, comments, and verdict until the end, thank you."

[forzathunder]

"I have many fears, most of them about Lucrezia." — Cesare Borgia (The Borgias, 2011-2013) + hints of insecurity

that she adores someone that much / if she will reject his dark nature and act of love and violence as Ursula did / if he truly is not part of her desires / that she easily forgets him

[overtake]

spa 2024 | via red bull's ig story

[sideswipesjetpack]

Gals

[ifindus]

so what do we make of norwegian swimmer henrik christiansen's obsession with the olympic village's chocolate muffins? 👀

I was just thinking about making something for the muffin man!! 😂✨ He is everywhere!! This chocolate muffin must be heavenly

[le-chevalier-au-lion]

dovquez + 7 or 21 🫶

dovquez: 7 (oral fixation/mouth play)

“Christ,” Dovi breathes out, blood thumping his ears. “Are you done?”

Marc makes a noise around his cock, doesn’t move an inch. Dovi is twitching with aftershocks, race adrenaline—last fucking lap, faring on faring, both of them about to go down, just slipping ahead—traded for an overstimulated afterglow, his dick soft and spent in Marc’s mouth.

Dovi lets him keep going a little longer. It’s fine, really, right on the fine edge of too much until he tips over. Marc sucks, just once, experimentally, and the jolt in nerves is more pain than pleasure. He tugs him off gently by the hair growing on the base of his neck.

Replaces his cock with his fingers, though, three of them hooked over Marc’s teeth.

He was rehearsing a protest, maybe, forcing his eyes open and straightening his shoulders—slumps again once he gets another mouthful, cheek pressed against his thigh.

Marc really sucks this time, hard, shameless, uncaring of the wet noise his mouth makes. Laves his tongue over Dovi’s bitten, cracked nails and calloused fingers. He could make him choke on them, shove until he gets Marc’s throat fluttering, but it isn’t—exactly—about that.

Also, Dovi doesn’t feel very inclined to meanness like this, golden-edged and stated, replaying a win in his head. Wants to give that Marc wants.

It’s just something that Marc likes. A habit that he beat himself out of if there are cameras around. But he sucks on straws, tips of sunglasses, bottles, pens—one of Santi’s bracelets once, which almost had Dovi doing a double take to check if he’d really seen that.

And he’s all too happy to get on his knees, too. Takes his time with it, until Dovi can’t quite tell if he’s so fucking annoyed that he’s going to lose his mind or thrilled. Same old tune, between them.

Dovi runs the tip of a finger over the uneven stretch of Marc’s teeth, exhales.

“You good?” He asks, eyebrows twitching.

The floor of his motorhome isn’t probably the most comfortable, folded comforter under his knees or no folded comforter under his knees. They have just finished a race. Marc is out of his leathers, naked, goosebumps raising over his skin, but Dovi isn’t, a mess of red pooling around his feet, sweaty on the crook of his legs, his back, his throat, everywhere.

Marc hums.

“C’mon,” Dovi says, “do you need anything? I should make you come.”

Marc finally opens his eyes. There’re steady, very dark, staring straight at him. He paws at Dovi’s leg until the sole of his foot hits something wet, lips pressed tight around his fingers.

No fucking—

He does a double take, then laughs—reedy, disbelieving—at the little pool of come on the floor.

“Alright.” He pets the sharp cut of Marc’s jaw, watches him relax again in real time. “Whatever you want.”

He doesn’t quite manage to keep the you psycho out of his voice, but it’s fine—very, unfortunately affectionate.

[maddymoreau]

Thinking of Grant commission by @eliotlime

[sunstonespark]

happy 25th birthday to my favourite show ever (ft. the anniversary of my otp meeting) and of course, to my darling gf (@ichijokaoru)!! ❤ 👍

(bonus below)

[maiselyormaiforshort]

Would anyone be interested in my ideal transformers shattered glass au

[ponyt4il]

biblically accurate remus . make him a FREAK!!!!!!!!!!!

[thegreatyin]

we're so close to freedom.

[apotelesmaa]

Distressing that people think ruikasa are capable of emotional introspection and self awareness like we are talking about two of the most emotionally dense characters in the game. Canon compliment characterization is them being stupid as all hell. New levels of idiocy are being discovered over here at PXL.

[nem0-nee]

ANOTHA ONE... Behold, new blorbo 2 electric boogaloo: Altair Stratus! Twisted from Mike Crew.

[ FILE #XXXXXXX - Dreary Heights ]

Do you know that feeling that whenever you look over a ledge, you have this... urge to lean in further?

You could easily topple over to the abyss with just one nudge.

Many have claimed that the exterior architecture of Diasomnia can be quite... nauseating. Its geography consists of steep landmasses that seem to float over a foggy abyss. These literally breathtaking characteristics are highlighted with the dorm's entrance: a bridge with a concerning lack of guard rails. Quite a nightmare for acrophobic students, especially to those who unfortunately have to reside in this building.

Unsurprisingly, there have been instances where one or two students have strayed from seemingly safe paths into the infinite depths below. Witnesses claimed to seeing a Diasomnia student being the one to push them to their doom. However, such testimonies were remarked to be hearsay by the Headmage, therefore not being taken seriously.

One witness claims they were a close victim of this student.

They say that they had a heated debate with their friend regarding on whether the foggy pit below Diasomnia was bottomless or not. The witness was on the side arguing that it wasn't bottomless at all, however their friend was headstrong with their opinion. Thus, the only way to settle this was to actually observe the abyss itself.

The answer was clear even without close examination: there was definitely a visible bottom in the pit. Despite everything, the other remained stubborn and refused to acknowledge the obvious truth.

Then, an uninvited guest came over— A Diasomnia student with a green scarf. He claims to be there to settle a score for the bickering pair.

"You should take a closer look."

With one nudge, the two were pushed over the ledge.

One held for dear life, while the other accepted defeat.

Turns out, the foggy pit below Diasomnia wasn't bottomless at all.

All it took was one nudge to find that out.

[ END OF REPORT ]

[ophernelia]

Got an ask and I don't really wanna post it, but Dodona is not a "Voodoo Queen". The Marie Laveau archetype is one people often use. It usually depicts an older black woman, who's blind or has her eyes covered, wears a headwrap and other beaded adornments. It's existed long before Dodona and is not at all her influence. That archetype is usually a mash of stereotypes about Vodun and Romani culture and never depicted accurately or respectfully. (AHS, The Princess and the Frog, etc. Also Marie wasn't blind LOL) I've studied African Spirituality for years during undergrad and have spoken about that before. So, I hold an immense amount of reverence for this spiritual practices and religions. Vodun is a closed practice ATR. There isn't a way to accurately or respectfully depict it since that ATR does not allow it's practices be shared openly. That only comes with initiation. (And even with initiation, practitioners cannot freely share that info.) It would be incredibly irresponsible for me to include that in Lykaia. "It's not that serious. It's just a show." Black religious and spiritual practices across the diaspora are often demonized and disrespected. Even in media, they deserve to be revered and not used to perpetuate sinister and/or negative tones. Cough, AHS.

Dodona's influence comes from Hoodoo. Which is never to be used interchangeably with Vodun because they are two different practices entirely. Hoodoo is a closed spiritual practice not a religion. As an African American with family in the deep south and the Carolinas, it is a practice I am familiar with and grew up with. It may share some similarities with other ATRs in regards to divination and how our ancestors are honored which you'll see present in Dodona, but it is not Vodun. Most of what's seen is a watered down version anyway, because Hoodoo's preservation relies on it staying within the community. (Certain groups of African Americans, not all.) So, I can't really talk about it. I have to keep it vague. Since Lykaia is inspired by Greek Mythology, Dodona's influence is also drawn from oracles and Hellenism. It's a good mix of the two. With that said, Dodona has no ties to Vodun at all and do not refer to her as such. So, people can't copy that 'cause that's not what's being presented lol.

Every blind older black women ≠ Voodoo Queen. Like.. let's not start that lol.