#sometimes it's gross. but sometimes it's divine!!!

[morethansalad]

Papaya (Carica papaya)

[blueninjablade3]

Disney men are with their S/O on their period.

McLeach

This man has never felt a woman’s touch in his life, dropped out of school in the 3rd grade, and has lived alone for so long I’d be surprised if he knew what a period is. You definitely need to be ready to have to explain EXACTLY what you need. He’s semi-willing to learn! But definitely be prepared to explain your need for a heating pad/ warm water bottle and explain you can't really control your emotions at this time.

4/10- Not the best, but willing to try and be good to you.

Jafar

I feel like Jafar has some pretty sexist beliefs such as periods/ period blood is gross. You aren’t really allowed to even touch Jafar during menstruation. Jasmine and the Sultan had to basically explain to him to be softer to you during shark week. Iago is actually really good to you though, Iago does his best to comfort you, however. I think Jafar does offer you pads or tampons just because he doesn’t want your blood on his furniture.

3/10 he’s not the worst on this list. Wait for Frollo.

Hades

OMG?! KING SHIT! HE'S PROBABLY THE BEST ON THIS LIST! Hades went to the goddesses of femininity and had the concept explained to him, how to help you, and asked you what you need. Doesn’t mind cleaning the sheets if you bled through, has Pain and Panic make you tea, and uses his body as both a heating and cooling pad. Cravings?! You get anything! Hades is the best on this list.

10/10, brilliant, incredible, show shopping, never before seen, iconic. Truly a king.

Rourke

Rourke is hard! I think he knows about it but doesn’t really care. He will be extremely confused about why you sometimes can’t get out of bed due to cramps. Rourke also has a habit of comparing your abilities on your period to others. Such as Helga, or Audrey. Thank goodness for Audrey and Helga though because they shut that shit down FAST! Rourke, I also imagine knows of some stretches that help with cramps. He has trouble dealing with extreme mood swings though as he’s not the most empathetic person, so not the best person to cry to during sadness.

4/10 He’s trying! Just not very hard… hang out with Sweet and Milo they’re much better with this stuff.

Ratigan

Ratigan is another hard one! However, I definitely see him as the type to spoil you rotten during your period. He’s getting your favorite products, having his goons make you hot fresh water bottles, and actually doesn’t mind the mood swings too much. He sorta likes you feisty. Ratigan actually doesn’t view periods as Taboo. I say this because it was a pretty religious belief that periods were divine punishment from god and I don’t think Ratigan is very religious. Ratigan does get pretty annoyed if you bleed onto his sheets or any expensive clothes of yours that he bought.

8/10- He’s not bad at all in this category! It’s just the sheets and clothes thing that keeps him from being a ten.

Alameda Slim

IM FINALLY GIVING THIS MAN THE LOVE HE DESERVES! Alameda seems like the type to be surprisingly gentle with his S/O, he knows that he’s a big strong man who could really hurt his lover if he wasn’t gentle. I think this also transfers to how he cares for you mentally. He knows that periods are uncomfortable and does his best to help you! He’ll go into town as Yancy O'Del to get you the right products (He has no idea what he’s doing and asks a very polite woman to help him), gets you your period craving, and will even yodel to you if want! He does his best to explain to his nephews what’s going on with you and why you’re snippy with them, they don’t understand. But it’s the thought that counts!

10/10- He’s putting in maximum effort, being gentle, and doing his job as a partner. Making you comfortable.

Hook

Dear ole Captain Hook is so lost. He’s never had to deal with a woman on their period before. I, on some level, doubt he knows what a period is. So after you explain the concept and the pain you go through Hook is quite disturbed. Especially if you have a difficult one. He puts in a TON of effort to learn everything he can about periods and how to make them comfortable for you. He gets Mr. Smee to watch over you when he gets too busy. Hook makes you the BEST, most mouth-watering dishes, for you while on your period. He also loves making you tea and hot water bottles to help with cramps.

10/10! For a man from his time, he’s surprisingly a great period caregiver!

Frollo

Oh, I have been DREADING him. This man is the worst. He INDEFINITELY has the sexist beliefs of his time. He won’t let you touch the Bible (which may be a blessing low-key), and Frollo views you as unholy for the entire month and will throw snide remarks about Eve at you. He offers no help.

-637726262737/10- EW EW EW EW GET HIM AWAY FROM ME EWWWWW!

Clayton

ANOTHER BITCH! This man is gonna act all high and mighty during your period. He won’t comfort you, he’s gonna act like he could deal with cramps, and makes jokes about your time of the month. And if you get MAD at him?! He makes snide remarks about women.

2/10- Not worse than Frollo but still a BITCH

Bonus!

Basil Of Baker St.

ANOTHER KING 💅🏻! He doesn’t know too much about periods and such BUT THE EFFORT HE PUTS IN?! He learns everything he can. He learns your cycle if it’s regular, your favorite brand of menstrual products, what medicine you take, and the signs you're going to start. Basil makes sure that one pad or tampon you keep in your bag ISN'T musty, you have medicine, and will sit and listen to your rants.

10/10- He’s an icon, he’s a legend, and he is the moment. Now come on now.

Masterlist

[image-repertoire-stress-disorder]

Hannibal 3x2: Why Botticelli's Primavera? - A painting analysis

ok im only on the second episode of s3 of hannibal so if it turns out in three episodes they debunk this entire post that'll suck.

The first kill of Il Mostro replicates Primavera, specifically Zephyr and the nymph Chloris, who becomes his wife. The flowers out of her mouth -- which Pazzi calls attention to -- symbolizes how Zephyr transforms her into the goddess of Spring.

Primavera is a rather specific choice; especially considering that Zephyr and Chloris are also depicted in Botticelli's "you've-probably-never-heard-of-it-bc-it's-so-niche" work: The Birth of Venus.

Lecter is obsessed with Primavera specifically, going to the museum sketch it almost every day, from what Pazzi recalls.

As a quick refresher (since obviously all of you know all the details of Primavera by heart):

the guy on the far left is Mercury (Hermes, if you're a PJO kid)

the three women dancing are the Three Graces (a symbol of chastity)

the woman in the center is Venus (goddess of love)

blindfolded baby Eros is shooting an arrow at the Three Graces (a disservice to Eros, but that's a topic for another day).

the woman to the left of Chloris is Flora (sometimes called Primavera), the deity that Chloris transforms into.

I. Isolating Zephyr and Chloris: Hannibal's influence on Will

Focusing on Zephyr and Chloris (as Hannibal does), we can interpret Hannibal as Zephyr, the wind god grabbing the fearful nymph Chloris, and transforming her into a spring goddess.

It's established in prior scenes that Hannibal views other people as less-than-human, even referenced to pigs in the prior seasons (see: "he kills in sounders"). Hannibal believes that, in his murders, he is transforming man into god. This reflects his later cannibalistic tendencies; transforming meat into fine dining. Flowers erupt from Chloris's mouth -- she is transformed from the inside out.

A parallel can even be drawn to Will, whose transformation arguably begins after he vomits up Abigail Hobbs' ear and is arrested. Under Hannibal's influence, Will is transforming into Primavera.

II. Carnal vs Divine Love: Will's influence on Hannibal

A popular interpretation of the painting involves the juxtaposition of carnal and divine love (reading right to left). Zephyr attacks Chloris carnally and violently on the far right. In the center sits the goddess of love. The Three Graces, who symbolize Chastity, turn away from carnal love, unknowingly about to be shot by Eros -- a symbol of divine love.

This is Hannibal's character arc!!

Hannibals first killing is represented by carnal love, a deep love for killing for a show of power. He kills because he can.

His first kill in the show, however, is the murder of Cassie Boyle. Art historians Blech and Doliner note that the openings in the trees above Venus are shaped precisely like lungs. And what's one of the first things Hannibal does in the whole show? He took Cassie Boyle's lungs and fed them to Will. Directly beneath the symbol of his first murder, is the goddess of love: Venus. Meeting Will moves Hannibal to the center of the painting, where love appears between the lungs of Cassie Boyle. Kinda gross but it's a show about a cannibal what can you do?

Hugh Dancy -- son of a philosopher, remember? -- refers to the love between Hannibal and Will by the end of the show as platonic love, to which he meant "Plato"-nic love, which in philosophical terms equates now to divine love.

My best prediction for the end of S3 is that Hannibal will transition to the left of the painting, and reach the divine love form of killing -- whatever that's going to look like.

[sketchygainedyoursoul]

I've already said smth abt this (and seen a post abt it) but it was in tags of the afformentioned post and was reblogged when i was shadowbanned so;

Imagine you are an immortal being, a god, if you will, capable of shape shifting into any form you desire. Male, woman, dog, whatever-- if you want to be it, you are.

And then you wake up in a dumpster, you find every single shred of immortality stripped from you because of something your great-great grandchild did and the body you wake up in is not even your own.

Cue: Apollo.

The man is constantly depicted as a beautiful man, muscled and long blonde hair with perfect skin. And then he wakes up in a 16 year old's body, short and curly hair, unfamiliar body mass, and acne. Vanity aside-- that's going to feel terrible. He would have to have felt every single flaw with himself, a body he never chose. He would have to adjust the way he walks, the way he fights, runs, and jumps. He can't count on his flexibility to save him anymore, not even from dysphoria.

He probably had issues with the skin and the acne, and the feeling of being imperfect. With the gross bodily functions and the unfamiliar needs of his flesh prison.

And that's without adding in gender. Apollo is male, yes, but to what extent? Maybe he's only male sometimes. Maybe he wants to be, maybe he is a woman sometimes. And he could change his body accordingly. He could ignore human form and become a glimmering mass of divine light. And now all of that, all of him, is compressed into a 16 year old boy's body, unchanging in the ways that matter.

sorry i think abt this a lot

[whereserpentswalk]

Having fae blood is weird. Being any time of human effected by extra planer beings is weird, but with the fae you have a very specifically odd place in society. You don't even have the privilege of having it been an accident strangers can feel sorry about, you reached out to the faeries, let them play with your body and make it something more than human, it feels better this way, like you were always meant to have become this. You've heard yourself referred to as a changling a lot, but you're not sure you like that term for people touched by the fae, mabye you don't want there to be a term at all.

You're not treated exactly like other people who've been effected by other types of entities, it's not like you've been touched by eldritch magic, or by demonic or divine forces, or made undead, where you're likely to be dehumanized as a monster. People think of you as being cute in a gross way, mabye tragic, like you were a misguided soul who should have been stopped from becoming this way, and now you have to be taken care of. It's hard for people to accept that you should even be allowed to live a normal life. Every time you look up how to deal with aspects of being fae blooded you always see articles for parents dealing with their fae touched children, like they forgot those children will grow up.

People underestimate you in weird ways. People are suprised to learn that you live on your own, that you have an actual job, that you date. People are so willing to help you or to do things for you even when you explicitly tell them not to. The way people talk to every freind your with like they're your handler. Anyone who has power over you will debate weather to let you do things, or do things on your own, it's gotten to the point where your boss and half your professors act like you're a child whose behavior has to be corrected, they don't treat anyone else that way. You've had to explain to people so many times that you're fine handling your weakness to cold iron on your own.

You know that your body and your behavior is a big part of it. You like how you look, but there are so many traits that make people think of you like something small and cute, the flowers that grow in your hair, your big golden eyes, your pointed ears and little goblinoid fangs, the simple fact that your short and slender and androgynous, it all makes people think of you as less of an adult. Not to mention all those little fae quirks that make your behavior so much less human, that make people want to correct you like a misbehaving child. Sometimes you wish you had become creepier, wish you looked like the type of fae creature people need to be afraid of... You would have hated the body you have if it wasn't so euphoric to inhabit it.

Dealing with other demihumans sucks. A lot of them are nice, but it's hard to get some to understand how you're uniquely effected as a fae touched. Like, you understand that there's just some things that you don't go through, like you know someone whose been effected by demons, whose form is something that most people find incredibly scary, the type of creature that some people want to kill. And how can you explain to him that what you go through is just as much of a problem. You were told by an undead once that you were taking away attention from "real" demihumans, just for existing, just for wanting rights.

You've half given up on dating at this point. Your last boyfriend was a fellow demihuman, but he was eldirch touched, twice your hight and with a massive complex mouth filled with sharp teeth, he kept being called a pervert or a predator for dating you, he had to stop just because of that type of judgment. He was a year older than you. A fully human girlfriend you had before him kept treating you like she was your mother. Most people you meet on dating apps think of you as a kink, like a cute submissive little creature they want to dominate, they're so surprised when you don't have the type of fetish that they think is inherent to your being, when you don't think being called slurs is hot. And than there's the fact that people think you shouldn't be allowed to date, if certain laws had passed in your state you wouldn't legally be allowed to consent to sex. You can barely understand how you'd exist with something like that.

You're entire existing is on shaky legal grounds. It's only because of the state that you live in that you can live on your own, in others you would not be granted such privilege. Even still, wizards, the ones that are supposed to help people like you, have so much power over you. If the mage your supposed to visit for potions, someone you're technically paying to see, decides you aren't fit to live alone you lose that right, if they think you need a spell cast on you or a potion given to to "help" with your fae traits there's little you can do to resist. And if they decide you're enough of a harm to yourself, or to someone else (but in your case it's always yourself) they could send you somewhere very dark, somewhere you would only leave if they took mercy on you.

You've been dressing in a stereotypically fae manner more, and using more accommodations. You don't know why but it makes you feel good. You went to a protest the other day, dressed in traditional faerie robes, you got to actually use your magic to fend off a group of counterprotesters, mesmerizing them with illusions, and sending the crows and hornets to your aid. They looked afraid of you and it made you euphoric, you've been seen as a victim for so long, it feels so euphoric to be a monster for once...

[bee-ina-boat]

heres a collection of concept art for the rest of the entities for the mythos au!! if you're wondering where the eye is, they've been drawn already!

they are all FAR from done. keep in mind these are all just my initial concepts and i plan to do in-depth design sheets as i go to explore their designs more.

IF YOU HAVE ANY IDEAS ON HOW TO IMPROVE THESE DESIGNS PLEASE THROW EM AT ME- MY ANON IS OPEN AND I READ TAGS I DONT CARE JUST!!!! GIMME!!!!!

(also au context: the magnus mythos is an au where the entities are all gods, similar to various religious mythology, rather than paranormal entities that feed on fear)

design thoughts for each of them under the cut

The Web - God of Fate (she/it): im pretty happy with her design atm, shes meant to be a half spider half woman thing and i love that for her. shes probably the one ive thought the most on so far given her importance to the story. i want her to wear silks and shiny silver jewelry that just sparkles like wet spiderwebs do, not sure if im gonna keep the veil?

The Dark - God of the Dark (she/he/it): probably my weakest concept at the moment. it doesnt do the dark any justice. i mean i like the cloak idea but i want them to be very tendrilly, all consuming, shadowy, but i dont know how to properly portray them :/

The Desolation - God of Destruction and Fire (they/it): i have a neat vision for them! i want them to be made of coal and ash and smoke, to be burning and glowing on the inside, and their body is decorated with melted wax to look like clothes. not quiiiiiite sure about how their melty candle dress is now? i want it to be less constrictive

The Stranger - God of the Unknown and the Whimsical (he/she/they/it): it's meant to be this. weird wirey creature hidden behind masks and a lot of fabrics, like the framework of a poseable plush doll? i like the way the masks look but im not so sure about the body.

The Vast - God of the Above (she/he/they/it): im not so sure about his design at all im gonna be real. i want them to look like the atmosphere and be covered in clouds and have mountains for feet and an ocean cape but i feel like it might be a bit?? idk??? im just not that happy with it :/

The End - God of Death and Time (they/it): ugh i love this concept sm, making death read as less scary and more divine is so fun. theyre based on a seraphim and a sand timer,

The Buried - God of the Underneath (she/he/they/it): ANOTHER OF MY FAVORITES!!!! i love them. theyre inspired by hermit crabs!! and they have silver chains holding their shell to them. they look so endearing with their lil lopsided eyes ;; <3

The Flesh - God of the Body and Meat (she/he/they/it): i have so many ideas for the flesh y'all- im very excited to do a concept sheet for them. theyre meant to have no skin, just exposed bone and muscle, large limbs, hooves, exposed heart underneath a ribcage, teeth that close around their abdomen. white bandages that wrap around like clothes. a teeth/horn crown? i dont quite know whether to go for a more animalistic look or a more human one? like- theres so many ways to go with him idek!!!

The Hunt - God of Predators and Pride (they/it): see, i like this design but i feel like its too werewolf like? yknow? thats cool!! but itreads more monster to me than God :/

The Corruption - God of Nature, Rot, and Disease (she/they/it): i love this weird bug thing. this one i was really inspired for (mostly because. corruption aligned. so obviously im gonna think about this one alot) theyre this weird bug thing, the veil is inspired by the one from the art on the wiki! i want to maybe make them a bit more gross and weird because nature is like that sometimes, a moot on tiktok suggested that i add animal bones!! and i think thats SO smart im absolutely going too

The Spiral - God of the Incomprehensible (it/its): this weirdo is so hard to pin down istg. i imagine them as this spiral thing. body is kindof liquidy, arms are spindly and long, multiple shifting faces, overall just constantly changing and moving and like!!! how am i meant to draw that??? when my brain cant even wrap my head around what its supposed to look like yknow??? bruh jrdbhgfjdldgfh- that being said i think the main problem with the design is that it just gives me too many Michael vibes!!! is it the hair? the arms? its probably both.

The Lonely - God of Solitude and the Self (they/it): i like what this one has going so far! theyve got fog hair, fog tears, their body is meant to be splotchy like turquoise marble, i vibe with it so hard. not so sure what to do with their outfit tho :/

The Slaughter - God of War (he/they/it): another one of my more stronger designs i think! centaur with weapons sticking into them, face concealed, medieval armor and antlers- it vibes

the extinction isnt drawn because i literally have no idea what they should look like aside from color palette-

once again any and all suggestions will be taken!!!! i need ideas!!! plese!!!!

[katyswrites]

don't call me 'baby'

PART 5 | SERIES

Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader

Warnings: Sugardaddy!Steve, SMUT (18+), daddy kink, ddlg dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, slight breeding kink, dirty talk, semi-public sex, swearing, sexual harassment/men being gross, alcohol use, smoking, age gap, no use of y/n

Wordcount: 9.6k

A sugar daddy modern AU, a whirlwind summer romance in Italy, and two people from completely different walks of life, somehow finding each other in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. But, what will happen when summer ends?

PART 5 | our secret moments in a crowded room

In the few weeks that followed, you often found yourself looking around and wondering how this was your life. If it wasn’t so stupidly cliché, you’d actually stop and pinch yourself to make sure this was all real.

After that first night, you started spending more time with Steve. It often went the same way - he’d send you a text in the middle of the day, telling you when to be ready that evening. You’d dress up in something nice he had made for you, more dresses and outfits getting sent over from Valentina throughout the days that followed. He’d come pick you up, but you’d never let him come upstairs - the idea was so embarrassing that the thought of it alone made you want to sink into the floor.

Then, he’d take you out to dinner at some restaurant that you certainly had never dreamed of setting foot in before - you were pretty sure he charged you just to breathe the air inside. The food was always delicious, the wine divine - and the company wasn’t so bad, either. Over dinner, and with the passage of time, you began to learn a bit more about him. You knew that he was born in a small town in Indiana called Hawkins; he was an only child, and got out of that town and moved to Chicago as soon as he could, never looking back; you also knew that he was right - he was practically married to his work. He often only talked about work - what he was dealing with during the day, how Billy and Tommy were insufferable, the places he had lived in and traveled to on business. 

As he opened up and talked more, you had started keeping a detailed list in your head of the things you were learning about Steve that he wasn’t necessarily saying:

He rarely mentioned his family. Or any friends really, for that matter.

This didn’t bother you - at least, it shouldn’t have. He didn’t owe you this information - you weren’t his girlfriend, and you both weren’t in any way obligated to delve into each other’s personal lives. In fact, the less you two got into that stuff, the better - that was what you told yourself. But, whenever the topic of his family started to come up organically, his voice would trail off, followed by a quick change of subject. There was something unspoken there, something you were smart enough to not push. And you recognized yourself in him in those moments - somebody who didn’t have a good home life growing up, someone who doesn’t have anybody to turn to. You filed the information away for later, just in case. And, you knew one thing: don’t ask about his family, ever.

Steve loved to give everything he had

This was already obvious - he was sending you thousands of Euros a week, and never hesitated to pay for, well, everything. At first, you had insisted on at least paying for something while you two were out together. But he never even let you look at the bill, and by this point, you didn’t even pretend to reach for your wallet. It felt strange, to have someone take care of you like this - it took some getting used to, but Steve always appeared as if nothing made him happier than spoiling you. The routine had become rather familiar - he’d send you a text that felt almost a bit too formal, asking (or sometimes, telling) you when he wanted to see you next. You’d put on something nice he had bought for you and he’d pick you up outside of your apartment - you never let him come upstairs. Then, he’d whisk you away to some five-star restaurant for dinner or a glamorous bar for drinks. You’d both chat and catch up about however long it had been since you’d last seen one another. 

You hardly ever kissed in public spaces, or outside of sex at all. You didn’t hold hands. You didn’t show each other affection when you went out at all, really - why would you? But, if you were feeling a little cheeky, or downright impatient, you’d put your hand on his knee, and let it travel up, up, up - and he’d call for the check like his life depended on it. Then, he’d take you back to his place. And that brought you to the third point on your list:

He was fucking incredible in bed

You had already figured that out after your first time together. But, the paranoid, inherently pessimistic part of you wondered if it was a fluke, or maybe you were just looking through rose-colored glasses because it had been a while for you, and it just felt good to be touched like that by somebody. But, if anything, it was only getting better. As you got to know one another more, and the layers of strangeness between you two were shed, it became less awkward and more comfortable. You found yourself feeling more bold in bed, ready to try new things. And, Steve was eager to please. He would ask you what you liked, what you wanted, and in return you would rile him up, do everything you could and push it as far as you could with one goal in mind: blowing his mind. And there, at least, you were proving to be pretty successful.

One thing was rather constant - he was so vocal in bed. And you were, too - it was like he brought it out of you, his new, eager side. But everything else was different each time. Sometimes, he was soft and slow, taking his time with you. Others, he was rough and fast, practically using you as a plaything as you screamed beneath him.  Some nights were like the very first, where he relinquished control and let you have your way with him. Other times, though, he liked to take control and manhandle you, and you let him.

Tonight was one of those nights. He had taken you to a rooftop restaurant, the warm early June air lending itself to the setting perfectly. Rome sprawled out in front of you, with its warm lights and bustling streets. Dinner had been delicious, the wine spreading through you and making you feel just a bit warm and mellow. It was perfect - and you wanted nothing more than to leave. Because god, he looked good, dressed in all-black with his button-down undone on top, letting his chest hair peek through whenever he’d reach up to run his hands through his hair. So, when he finally did take you home, you had practically jumped him as soon as you got in the elevator in his building. And, he had wanted it just as badly as you. It was how you ended up here, right now, writhing beneath him as he pounded into you. He was merciless, your legs wrapped around his back to pull him closer, deeper. His hand was between you, finger circling your clit in a way that was driving you insane. You thrusted up to meet his hips, and the angle was just right to make you scream out his name.

“Yeah? You liked that?” he gasped, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he hovered over you.

“Fuck, yeah - you feel so good, you cock feels so - ah! Just like that - yeah, oh my god -”

“Yeah, look at you - all fucked out, just for me. Are you gonna come again? Are you gonna come on my cock, like a good girl?”

Again. Because he had thrown you on the bed and eaten you out like a starving man, having you come undone in a matter of minutes. He had hardly given you a moment to recover before he was fucking you, and your mind couldn’t focus on anything other than Steve.

“Yeah,” you moaned, head thrown back as he fucked into you. “I’m gonna come on your cock - I’m your good girl -”

“Damn right you are,” he said gruffly, continuing his assault on your clit. 

You had never really done this in bed before him, either - the pet names, the dirty talk, all of it. It had felt foreign, at first, but you realized you were into it. There was one thing you hadn’t tried yet that you wanted to - there was a chance Steve would love it, or absolutely hate it. You had almost said it a few times, just to test the waters. But each time, something stopped you, and you found yourself holding back. Now, though, most rational thought had left you - all you could think about was Steve, and how good he felt, the stretch of him, the filthy things he was whispering in your ear -

“I’m so close,” you gasped, walls clenching and fluttering around him as you felt the heat building in your core. “Oh my god -”

“Come on, baby - cum on my cock. You know you want to - I can’t wait to cum in this pussy, fill it up - cum for me, right on this cock -”

“Yes,” you cried, your orgasm hitting you like a tsunami. You arched your back, pressing yourself into him as the pleasure washed over and spread through you. 

“I’m coming, daddy, oh my god -”

His thrusts faltered for a second, and he nearly fell forward on top of you before catching himself on his forearms. You squeezed and convulsed around him, and he let out a guttural groan as he spilled into you. He buried his face into your neck, sucking on the skin there as he gave a few more sloppy thrusts before stilling. You both stayed that way for a few moments, your fingers still pressed into his shoulder blades as you both let your breathing get back under control. You stared up at the ceiling, heart pounding. After a few moments, he pulled out of you and rolled over, pulling the sheet up to cover you both. He flopped next to you, and you heard the rustle of his head turning on the pillow to look at you. Steve’s gaze burned through your skull, but you stayed staring at the ceiling, terrified of what you might see if you brought yourself to look at him.

Did he hate it? Was he just trying not to laugh at you? Or, was he just concerned? You did know one thing - you had liked it. More than you thought you would. What did that mean?

You felt something brushing your arm, and you looked to see that it was his hand, gently running the backs of his fingers up and down your bare skin.

“You okay?” he asked softly. You finally brought your eyes to meet his, and sighed. He was difficult to read, even now.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I just - sorry about that.”

He furrowed his brow.

“About what?”

You cast your eyes down, fiddling with your hands.

“About - well, like - I just wanted to try it out. But, like - if you weren’t into it -”

“Whoa, hey,” he said soothingly. “I - I definitely was into it. It was really fucking hot - this might be dumb to say, but I don’t think I’ve ever cum so hard in my life.”

You felt your face heat, like you were fourteen and found out someone had a crush on you or something.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling. 

“Good,” you breathed. “Because, I really want to do it again.”

Before he could say anything else, you were rolling over and kissing him, and not a lot of real talking happened after that.

****

Afterwards, you were lying in his bed sipping a glass of wine, his arm around you as he scrolled through his phone.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Fucking work - why Brenner thinks he can email me at midnight, I have no idea -”

“It’s okay,” you said, shrugging. “I get it.”

It really was fine. He didn’t do this very often, at least, not as often as you’d expect someone with his job to. It was par for the course, you reasoned. Then, you sat up a bit straighter.

“Wait - nearly midnight? Don’t you have work in the morning?”

He sighed, throwing his head back against the headboard and shutting his eyes. 

“Yes,” he groaned. “Wish I didn’t. But I do.”

“What time do you have to get up?”

“I don’t know, I usually set my alarm for a little after six.”

You felt a wave of guilt wash over you, and shook your head.

“Oh, I’m sorry - I really should go, then -”

That was another thing - you never spent the night. He never said you couldn’t, exactly. But it felt strange - he usually had to be up early, and if you actually stayed over… you weren’t sure what that made you to him. So it was easier to just leave after, usually with a promise from him that you’d hear from him again soon.

“Oh, right,” he said quickly. “That’s fine - let me just call my car.”

You nodded, finding your dress where it laid on the floor, face flushing at the memory of Steve practically tearing it off of you earlier. As you shimmied into it, you heard him say behind you -

“Oh! By the way - I have a question for you. A proposition, I guess.”

You spun around as you fumbled with the zipper on the back of your dress.

“Okay, I’m listening.”

“Are you free on Saturday night?” he asked.

“I definitely can be. Why, did you want to grab dinner?”

Grab dinner was certainly one way to describe what you two usually did. A euphemism, at best. But he just smirked, and shook his head.

“Not exactly - there’s a work event that I’m going to. A charity gala, actually. It’s a black-tie sort of thing. But, I have a ticket, and I get to bring a plus one. I haven’t - I mean, I definitely would -”

He sighed, running a hand through his now-mussed hair, thanks to you.

“It might be kind of terrible, and you can 100% say no if you don’t want to. It’ll probably be pretty boring, mostly just my colleagues and our clients and investors, but the meal is paid for, and it has an open bar, there’s dancing -”

He was rambling, and not exactly meeting your gaze, and you realized that he was actually nervous.

“Yeah, sure,” you said simply. “That’d be nice.”

He stopped mid-sentence, meeting your eyes.

“Really? Because, you really don’t have to, if you’d rather do something fun with your friends or something -”

“Steve - I said I’ll go. I want to go.”

He visibly relaxed, and nodded.

“Okay - great. I’ll have Valentina make something for you to wear - like I said, it’s really formal. I’ll take care of it.”

“Right,” you said, popping your leg up as you shoved your foot into your shoe. “Thanks for that.”

He waved a hand as he typed away on his phone with the other.

“Always, you know that.”

Always. He was right - he always took care of you. Why, you had no idea. But you were finally starting to accept that this was your life now, and maybe something nice was happening to you just because it was. It was a new feeling.

“Okay, well, let me know the details and… I guess I’ll see you Saturday?”

He looked up at you, thinking for a moment. 

“Yeah, probably. I really want to try to see you again between now and then, but… I do have that client dinner on Wednesday, and I’m going over to Paris until Friday - but, I’ll text you, yeah?”

You nodded, pasting on a smile that you hoped conveyed nonchalance.

“Yeah - whatever works. Just let me know.”

“Great - here, let me -”

And he was following you through his apartment to the door, wearing only in his boxers, you as a more disheveled version of the girl who had arrived earlier. He always walked you to the door, but you insisted on seeing yourself down to the lobby. Then, as usual, he pecked you on the cheek, and asked you to text him when you got home safely. 

And, as usual, you couldn’t help but feel just a bit empty as you rode the elevator down. You knew it was stupid - this was the whole deal. And, if you were being honest, this arrangement was the best thing that could’ve happened to you this summer. You were richer than you’d ever been, wanted for nothing, and were having fantastic sex on a regular basis. 

Still, after a silent drive home, thanking the driver, bounding up the stairs to your flat, and hopping right into the shower, you couldn’t help but feel more alone than ever. 

You hoped that the hot water would wash away the feeling, just as it washed sweat, makeup, perfume, and Steve down the drain. But it didn’t. It never did. No, Steve clung to you like the lingering smell of smoke on old fabric. 

You flopped into bed, exhausted, but not before sending the promised text:

home and showered thanks again - let me know about saturday

It was past 1am now - you figured he probably was asleep by now, with his workday mere hours away. Instead, just as you started to drift off to sleep, your phone lit up on the nightstand:

Always - I’m glad you made it home safe. I’ll come by to get you at 6:30 p.m. on Saturday. Valentina will have the dress sent over before then. I’d suggest wearing the nicest jewelry you have, too - feel free to use my credit card. Sorry I have to work/travel a lot this week. But I’ll see you on Saturday.

You rolled your eyes at his text - the formality of it all made it seem like he was 80 years old sometimes. You sent back a quick reply:

sounds good i’ll try to look decent haha

You saw that he was typing for several minutes, starting and stopping, before settling on something short:

You’ll look beautiful. You always do.

You felt your face heat, and suddenly wanted to bury your face in your pillow. Instead, you pivoted the conversation:

ok - now go to sleep! i didn’t think you’d still be up lol

A moment, then a reply from Steve:

I wasn’t able to sleep until I knew you were home. It’s not a problem - sleep well.

Another three dots appeared like he was going to add something else, but then they vanished. You frowned, then wrote back:

ok - goodnight and sleep well too

He replied one last time before you even had the chance to put your phone back on your nightstand:

Goodnight. I always sleep better after I’ve been with you.

You flipped your phone over and turned it down, not daring to look at it again. You decided not to dwell on the meaning of that last text. Logically, it’s just him trying to make a joke, something about being tired out from the sex. That thought is what you settled on as you drifted off to sleep. Because, if you tried to read into it any more, you knew you’d be digging yourself into a hole you couldn’t get out of - and that was enough to make any person go insane.

*****

You didn’t hear much from Steve for the rest of the week. He worked late most evenings, and traveled to Paris for two days to close some big deal that you only vaguely understood the workings of. On Friday night, you finally got one text:

About to board my flight back. Your dress will be delivered in the morning, so keep an eye out for that. I’ll come to pick you up around 6:30. Also - don’t wear earrings.

You raised an eyebrow at that last part. But, Steve always had his reasons, and you knew well enough by now to not question it. 

Sure enough, late Saturday morning, your buzzer rang. You signed for the delivery and hauled the garment bag inside, the now-familiar brand label embroidered on the side. Robin was sitting cross-legged on the couch, still in her pajamas and munching on an apple.

“Is that it? For your thing tonight?”

“Yeah,” you replied, hooking the hanger over the top of your door. “Want a peek?”

Robin nodded vigorously and bounced up from the couch, looking over your shoulder as you unzipped it.

“Oh, wow,” she said. “It’s -”

“Yeah,” you finished. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s sexy, is what it is,” Robin finished, taking another big bite out of her apple as she leaned against the wall. “And stupidly fancy. Are you sure he’s not taking you to, like, Buckingham Palace or some shit?”

You rolled your eyes, zipping the bag back up.

“Guess we’ll find out.”

As the day rolled from afternoon and hurtled closer to the evening, you took your time getting ready. You treated yourself to a long, hot shower, taking care to really soak in the suds as the water washed over you. You did everything meticulously - your hair, skincare, makeup, and had even taken time earlier in the afternoon to go out and get your nails done. You had been so used to just painting them yourself at home, that it had felt downright luxurious to have someone do it for you. You weren’t sure why you were so concerned, at first. You were comfortable enough with Steve by now that you weren’t too worried about impressing him - no, you told yourself, impressing Steve can’t be important to me.

You thought about how he had asked you, how nervous he had been, and the relief on his face when you agreed to come - this event tonight, it was important to him. And, the least you could do was show that you cared, too.

Then, came the dress. At first, it had seemed a bit simple - it was black, made of a soft, satin-like material. But, once you slipped into it, you understood - the form-fitting, floor length gown left little to the imagination. The neckline plunged, far past your sternum, while a giant slit ran up the leg on the right side. The back plunged down too, the floor-length fabric soft and light against your legs. You tied the halter neck, taking a step back to actually admire yourself. You were never really someone who ever had an opportunity to dress up like this, well, ever. You opted to wear the necklace Steve had gifted you that very first night, smirking at the memory. By the time you were pulling on heels, it was nearly time to leave. Sure enough, at 6:30 on the dot, your buzzer was ringing, and you were scrambling for your (brand new) clutch, hurriedly shoving your phone and a spare lipstick into it and making a beeline for the door.

“Whoa!” Robin called from the kitchen, her jaw hanging in the doorway. “Look at you! Hot to trot!”

You smiled, and goddammit, you believed her. 

“I’m not going to lie - might be the best thing he’s had made for me yet.”

“I’ll say,” Robin remarked, stepping back to take you in. “Well, have fun. And, tell me everything when you come back, and I’ll live vicariously through you, yeah?”

You nodded, laughing as you made your way out the door, doing everything you could to not run down the steps.

When you reached the steps, there he was - in a goddamn tuxedo. His hair is a bit tamer than usual, and he’s devastatingly handsome. The second he saw you, his eyes widened, and he let out a low whistle.

“Christ - look at you,” he said quietly.

You grin, giving him a self-indulgent little spin.

“You like it?”

He nodded, his gaze traveling up and down your figure.

“I’ll say. You look incredible, seriously.”

You felt your face heat, and opted to just shrug.

“Well, some crazy rich dude had this made for me, so I guess I did my best to clean up nice.”

He chuckled, and held out his hand.

“Shall we?”

You took it, and he held you steady as you made your way down the steps, popping open the car door for you as you slid inside.

As the car peeled away from the sidewalk and made its way down the cobblestone streets, Steve cleared his throat next to you.

“So, before we get there - I thought it’d be nice if you wore these, maybe.”

You let your eyes fall down to where he held a velvet box in his hands, popping it open to reveal a set of diamond drop earrings. But, they are perhaps the most stunning, sparkly set of diamonds you’ve ever seen - even in the dim light of the car, they glisten like dew on the grass on a bright summer morning, impossible to look away from. You felt your jaw go slack, tracing the earrings gently with your fingers.

“Oh, Steve - they’re beautiful. Seriously, I - thank you,” you said sincerely, your voice softer than you meant for it to be.

You extracted them from the box and started to put them on, and you felt Steve’s gaze on you.

“Where did you buy these?” you asked, hoping you sounded nonchalant.

“Oh, well - I actually had them made. One of our clients - his wife is a gemologist, so she hand-selected the stones, so they’re top-tier, apparently. And they’re custom, so… nothing in the world is quite like them. At least, so I was told. I picked them up while I was over in Paris.”

You froze, eyes widening as you turned to face him.

“Wait, seriously?”

He nodded, shrugging.

“Well, yeah. I just thought it’d be nice to do, you know?”

Your instinct was to reject them, unable to even imagine how much they could have possibly cost. They felt wrong on your ears, like you shouldn’t have been wearing anything remotely close to them on your body. But you looked back at Steve, and he was staring at you like you’d hung the stars, and you realized that a rejection was exactly the reaction he was afraid of. So instead, you smiled, and reached out to take his hand in yours.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “They’re beautiful.”

He smiled softly, casting a quick glance down at your clasped hands - somehow, the gesture suddenly felt entirely too intimate, despite everything you two had done together, and you both withdrew at the same moment. Unsure what to do, you folded your hands in your lap, and stared out the window as silence fell.

****

The rest of the car ride was rather quiet, with only the occasional comment or joke from Steve, the city flying past. As the car slowed to a stop in front of the hotel, you suddenly felt a wave of anxiety start to rise in your chest - you were way out of your depth. As you spotted a line of limousines and groups of people dressed to the nines, it occurred to you that you didn’t necessarily belong here. As if he sensed it, Steve reached across the seat and gently placed a hand on your knee.

“Hey - it’s okay. For the most part, it’ll be boring as Hell, with so-so, overpriced food and a lot of business talk. But, I’ll stick by you, and I’ll fill you in on everything as best as I can, if you want, yeah?”

You took a deep breath, and nodded slowly, casting another look out the window.

“Yeah, okay - you lead the way, Harrington.”

He put on a bracing smile, and moved to help you out of the car. Once outside, he lifted his bent arm. You smiled, hooking your own arm through it and letting him lead you to the grand steps. As you made your way to the entrance, you felt like everyone was staring at you - were they wondering who you were? Or, what you were to Steve? Did they know? Were they judging? Or, were they just curious?

You tensed a bit, and felt Steve’s breath on your ear as he leaned in close and whispered, “Just so you know, you’re the most beautiful girl here. Not even a contest.”

You found that difficult to believe, the confidence you had had back at your apartment almost completely evaporated. Still, you couldn’t ignore the way your stomach flipped at his words, and you did your best to fight a smile as you pressed yourself closer to his side.

Once checked in, you and Steve found yourselves in a grand ballroom, with ornate golden ceilings and Renaissance-era murals adorning the walls. A pianist played a grand piano on the corner, the room full of people milling about with drinks and hors d'oeuvres.

You stood there for a moment, taking it all in. You probably looked like a child, staring up at the ceiling and around the room like you’d never seen anything like it. But, to be fair… you hadn’t. 

Steve whispered in your ear again, your heart racing at the feeling of his lips ghosting your skin.

“I know I said I wouldn’t leave your side, but can I make an exception for going to the bar? I can get you a glass of champagne, or whatever you want.”

“Yeah, champagne is fine for now. Thanks.”

He nodded, squeezing your arm as he pulled away.

“Great. We’re table 27, by the way - make your way over there, and I’ll find you, yeah?”

You nodded, eyes following him as he turned away and made his way through the crowd. You felt stupid, like a kid who had been separated from her mom at the grocery store. But, you didn’t know a single person, and even if you did…what the fuck would you talk about?

So, you opted to follow Steve’s suggestion and make your way across the room, scanning able placards as you searched for 27. 

Some guests were sitting at their tables, chatting over cocktails as you shouldered past. When you finally located the table, your smile faltered - because, there were already some people sitting there. You recognized them immediately, the sight causing a sense of dread to settle in the pit of your stomach.

It was Billy and Tommy, looking just as slimy as that night weeks ago when you first laid eyes on Steve. Only now, Steve wasn’t here, and if you recognized them, there was a damn good chance they’d know who you were, too.

Praying for a miracle, you continued to make your way to the table, forcing a small smile when they finally noticed you. It was Billy who caught your eye first, raising an eyebrow at the sight of you. You noticed him elbowing Tommy, whispering something into his ear. The other man’s eyes widened, and he hurriedly whispered something back into Billy’s ear, causing the two of them to snicker.

Before you could even attempt to sit, Billy laid back in his chair, smirking up at you.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Harrington couldn’t get a real date, so he brought our cocktail waitress. Truly, he never ceases to amaze me.”

You heard the roaring of your blood rushing through your ears, but kept your face neutral.

“Oh, yeah,” Tommy said, grinning maliciously. “How’s it feel to be among another tax bracket, sweetheart? To see how the other half lives, huh?”

“C’mon, Tommy,” Billy drawled. “She’s probably just a good lay - you know Stevie, he’s probably whipped -”

“How’d you afford that dress with your waitressing tips, huh?” Tommy asked, face painted in a smarmy smile. “Or, did your new boyfriend buy it for you? Are ya milking him for all he’s worth?”

You didn’t say anything, not wanting to engage. If you were being honest, you didn’t even know what you’d say to them - one one hand, you might completely lose your temper, and the last thing you needed was to cause a scene. On the other hand… you were afraid you might cry. And the last thing you needed was to give them the satisfaction. You did your best to ignore their comments, their endless taunts, and the way their eyes traveled up and down your body. A million and one intrusive thoughts were running through your mind, ranging from you running out in a fit of tears to planning the men’s elaborate murders. Then, a soft grip on your elbow, a familiar warmth by your side.

“Hey,” Steve said, nonchalantly reaching over to place your drink in your hand while wrapping his other arm around your waist. “Thanks for finding the table, babe. Nice spot - the company could be better, though,” he added, eyes locking with Billy on that last part.

Billy’s smile faltered, but only for a moment.

“Harrington! We were just telling your - well, your - this lovely lady here, just how happy we were to be making her acquaintance again. A surprising sight, that’s for sure.”

Steve plastered on a smile, pulling you just a little closer to his side.

“Yes, well, you know what I’m not surprised about? That you’ve come with a young girl on your arm, and Mrs. Hargrove is nowhere to be found! Funny how that goes, right?”

Billy’s eyes narrowed, and he crossed his arms, making a gruff noise as he turned his attention back to the dinner menu in front of him.

You let out a shaky breath, finally finding Steve’s eyes for the first time since he came back over. He gestured for you to take a chair, pulling it out and helping you in as he did. 

When he sat himself down between you and his colleagues, he leaned close and whispered, “You okay?”

You bit your lip, pausing for a moment before nodding slowly. 

“Yeah, I’ll be alright. I’ve dealt with worse.”

“Worse than what? What were they saying to you?”

You waved him off, staring ahead to avoid his gaze. 

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll live.”

You felt Steve’s hand find your knee under the tablecloth, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m sorry. I thought there was a chance they’d be at our table, but I was really hoping they wouldn’t. I can kill them though, if you want.”

You laughed dryly, placing your hand over his under the table.

“I think I’ve got that covered, but if I need an alibi, I’ll use you.”

That earned a hearty chuckle from Steve, and you started to sip your champagne. If the first part of the evening was an early indicator, you’d need to start drinking now, and not stop.

*****

Steve hadn’t been lying - this thing was pretty boring. You and Steve spent the rest of the cocktail hour milling around, actively avoiding the company at your designated table for as long as possible. It was mostly you standing by Steve’s side, smiling and acting engaged in conversation as he chatted with colleagues and clients. By the end of it, you really started to understand how he’s worked his way up in the corporate world at such a relatively young age - he was born to do this. He was charming, and smart, and had a way of schmoozing every person he encountered. It was easy to be drawn to him, to want to listen to anything and everything he had to say. You felt practically invisible next to him, but strangely weren’t too bothered by it because… you understood. It was impossible to move more than a few feet without someone in a suit stopping him, offering a firm handshake and a clap on the back before devolving into business talk. 

Steve also knew how to clue you in, whispering in your ear every time you approached a new group - their names, who they worked for, who was here with their spouse or mistress,who screwed who out of a deal, and who was an asshole to steer clear from. If gossip was a real love language, Steve Harrington was fluent. And, you had to admit that it kept things light and fun, at the very least.

Steve would make an effort to introduce you to everyone, referring to you as my date tonight, which was fair enough. Still, you shifted uncomfortably when the men looked you up and down, the women regarding you with curiosity at best, an air of disdain at worst. You switched rather quickly from champagne to Old Fashioneds, doing everything in your power to not seem like you were just downing the liquor. If Steve noticed, he said nothing. By the time dinner rolled around, you were feeling a bit beyond tipsy, and ignored the other men sitting at your table. During dinner, there were a series of speeches, most notably from Dr. Brenner. You couldn’t help but feel uneasy when he was in view, even if he was all the way at the front of the room. There were a few times you could have sworn he was staring right at you, enough that you had to tear your eyes away and stare down at your duck confit, picking at it with your fork.

Then, came the dancing - a live band came out, a good one, and soon enough, everyone was up and making their way to the middle of the ballroom. Steve got up, holding out his hand towards you.

“Care to dance?”

You giggled, taking his hand and letting him help you out of your seat.

“Steve, I’ve got to tell you something,” you whispered as you made your way to the dance floor.

“Yeah?”

“I’m kind of a terrible dancer,” you admitted.

“Good,” he replied. “Because I am, too.”

Then, he took one of your hands in his, placed the other on the small of your back, pulling you close to him.

It wasn’t dancing, exactly, more swaying and shuffling around. But the music was good, and Steve was so close, so it was enough. After a few minutes, Steve whispered, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you replied. “Just thinking. And, I think I had a little too much to drink,” you admitted sheepishly.

Steve chuckled, squeezing your hand as you turned with him.

“Thanks, for coming with me tonight. I know it’s kind of boring, but… having you here actually made me want to come.”

He said it softly, but so sincerely, and you felt your stomach flip at the tenderness of it all.

“Yeah?” you asked.

He nodded, glancing quickly around the room, before turning back to you and leaning even closer.

“I usually kind of hate these things. But, they’re important to show my face, so… it’s nice to not have to do it alone.”

You didn’ know what came over you, but you reached your hand up to the nape of his neck, and pulled his lips to yours. The kiss only lasted a moment, but when you pulled away, the look Steve was giving you made you start to feel even more dizzy, something warm crackling in your chest.

“What was that for?” he breathed.

You shrugged.

“For inviting me. And the earrings. And the dress. And… everything else.”

Then, something unreadable passed his features, and his eyes darkened.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” he said, his voice suddenly much lower. “In a few minutes, they’re going to start rolling out dessert, and people are going to start dispersing, and they’re going to give out some awards and make more speeches. But you are going to go to the ladies’ room.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Why?”

“Because,” he murmured, “it’s the part of the night everyone actually comes here for. So the bathrooms will be empty. Nobody would even notice we’re gone.”

Understanding, you felt your face flush, and a cheeky grin started to ghost your lips.

“Are you trying to seduce me, Harrington?”

He shrugged.

“Is it working?”

Your hand on his waistband answered his question.

******

“Oh, fuck - Steve - right there! Fuck, do that again -”

You had your back pressed against the stall, face buried in Steve’s neck. Your dress was hiked up your leg, panties pushed to the side as his fingers pumped in and out of you. Your breast hung out of the dress, which had been fighting to cover you up to begin with. His thumb vigorously massaged your clit, while his two fingers curled inside that perfect spot within you. You moaned, fingers gripping the back of his tux.

“You’ve gotta be quiet, baby,” he growled, lips pressed to your ear. “Anyone could just walk in and hear us.”

You pressed your lips to his neck and sucked at the skin there, sure to leave a bruise in the morning. But it was too good, too much, and he was right - you were in a stall in the women’s bathroom, and anyone could come strolling in and hear you. But you weren’t used to being quiet with Steve - you wanted to scream, to call him the pet names he so dearly loved, but you couldn’t. 

“I bet you love this,” he whispered, coating his fingers in your slit before diving back in. “Does it get you off? The idea of fucking yourself on my fingers in public? Do you want other people to know what a dirty girl you are? I bet you fucking do - if you’ve gotta scream, baby, make sure it’s my name, so everyone in this fucking place knows that I’m the one making you feel this good -”

As he rambled, he picked up the pace, fingers pumping with more fervor as you bucked into his hand. You threw your head back, letting it hit the door of the stall as you felt your climax building in your core.

“More,” you gasped, hips bucking. “Please, Steve -”

“Can you take another? You sure, baby?”

You nodded weakly, and he added a third finger, pumping and stretching you until you could hardly stand it.

“If only you could see yourself,” he whispered. “All fucked-out in your dress, wearing those million-dollar earrings - shit, you’re a fuckin’ wet dream, baby.”

Before you could process anything he was saying, your orgasm was hitting you, fast and hard. You squeezed around his fingers like a vice, the pleasure rushing through you from head-to-toe. Your hand flew to your mouth, biting down as you came to stifle the scream.

“There you go, baby,” he whispered. “Fuckin’ perfect - you’re gushing on my hand, you minx.”

You laughed shakily, letting your head fall forward onto his shoulder.

“You okay?” he asked. You nodded weakly, nuzzling into his neck.

“Yeah - I just need a second.”

Your breath hitched as he slowly withdrew his fingers, your cunt still sensitive. Then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, Steve held up his slick-soaked fingers, and began to lick them clean.

“You taste fuckin’ amazing, baby,” he whispered roughly. “Makes up for missing dessert. We should probably get back, though.”

You smirked. 

“Do you think they’ve noticed we’re gone yet?” you asked.

“Probably not. But they might, soon. And, people around here talk.”

“Well, I’ll be quick, then.”

Before he could ask what you meant, you were shoving him against the wall of the stall, fumbling with his belt, and sinking to your knees. Soon enough, it was Steve’s turn to try to be quiet, much to your satisfaction.

******

You and Steve didn’t stick around at the gala much longer. He had gone back to the table first, leaving you to fix your makeup and pull yourself together to the best of your ability. Your swollen lips and smudged mascara, rumpled dress and newly-forming bruise on your collarbone were enough to delay your return. After you got back, though, Steve could barely keep his hands off of you. If anyone had noticed your absence, they gave little indication; you figured they must have suspected something though, considering you had to hurriedly wipe away your lipstick stain from Steve’s jaw, much to his embarrassment. 

He pulled you to the dancefloor again, hand splayed across the small of your back as he held you close. It occurred to you that he was probably also just a bit drunk. He seemed a little more carefree, the stiff, formal facade fading with each passing moment. 

“Hey, Harrington?” you whispered in his ear.

“Mm?”

“D’you think we can get out of here?”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

The journey from the party to Steve’s apartment was a bit of a blur - his hands snaking under your dress in the car ride home, his lips on your neck, your fingers in his hair. You both practically stumbled into the elevator, wasting no time in shedding each other’s clothes before you even made it to the bedroom.

Despite the initial urgency, Steve took his time with you that night. He kissed you everywhere, whispering filthy prayers into your skin along the way. He touched you like he’d never get a chance to again, tasted you like he was starving to death - and you let him, writhing and moaning beneath him as he had his way with you. You had come twice before he even had a chance to properly take his clothes off. When he finally slipped inside of you, he lost it, so worked up that he was coming undone in minutes. 

He moaned filthy praises into your skin, calling you a good girl and gasping out your name. It was a hazy mess of sweat and skin and screams, more drunk on each other than the liquor by the time it was done.

Afterwards, you laid across his covers, the room a bit too warm, the scent of summer air and sex invading your senses. You were only wearing the earrings he had given you earlier in the evening, the diamonds weighing a bit on your ears. But he had asked you to keep them on, and who were you to say no? You were exhausted, still breathing heavily when he re-entered the bedroom, clad only in his silk boxers and carrying two glasses of wine.

“You trying to get me drunk, Harrington?” you asked, laughing breathily.

“I think it’s too late for that,” he reasoned, sliding onto the bed next to you.

“Nope, pretty sure it’s all out of my system now. Thanks for that.”

He chuckled, wrapping an arm around you as you nuzzled into his side. You were worn out, the tiredness seeping into your bones as you melted into him. He didn’t even bother actually handing you one of the glasses, your eyelids growing heavier as you let your cheek fall onto his chest, the dull feeling of his heartbeat against your ear pulling you into sleep like a lullaby.

You knew you needed to get home, not even sure of exactly how late it was. But you just needed a few minutes, and maybe a cigarette, before you could even think about moving from this bed.

It was Steve who broke the comfortable silence, after a few moments.

“Did you have a good time tonight?”

“Mm,” you mumbled. “Yeah - I mean, it had its moments, but… I liked where it ended.”

He laughed, the rumble in his chest running through you, and you smiled into his skin.

“Thank you, for taking me,” you added. “And for everything, I guess.”

“It’s not a problem,” he said. “I mean, I usually hate those things. They can be stiff, boring, the food is only okay, and it just feels like another day of work in the middle of the weekend. But - having you there… I actually enjoyed myself. I can’t really remember the last time that happened.”

You shifted a bit until you were on your stomach, chin on Steve’s chest as you looked up at him.

“Can I ask you something?”

He nodded slowly, brushing some stray hair out of your face.

“Why do you work that job? I mean, I know the money’s good - clearly - but… you hate it. Every time you talk about it… you seem miserable, Steve.”

You had been thinking about it for a while, but not brave enough to say it. But you were tired, still a bit tipsy, and it had been eating away at you. He sighed, leaning back against the headboard.

“It’s a long story. But, honestly? It’s because of my dad.”

Oh. Family - this territory wasn’t breached a lot. But, you stayed silent, seeing if he’d off up any more information.

“He and I - we never exactly got along. He’s not all bad, it’s just - I think he and I are a bit too similar sometimes, to be honest. I was always pretty well-off growing up, and I think he wanted me to be like him - go to a good college, go into business, get a good white-collar job. And that’s what I did. He actually knew Brenner, from way back in the day. Call it nepotism, or networking, or whatever you want. But, yeah, I guess my dad kind of had an in with HNL. And I got an offer right before I finished college - I would’ve been an idiot to say no. And, Brenner’s retiring soon, probably, so if I play my cards right, I might make CEO before I’m 35.”

He didn’t look at you much as he said it, reciting the information like he was reading it from a textbook. You gently brushed your fingers across his skin, the chest hair tickling your knuckles as you continued to stare up at him.

“But… you hate it. I can tell.”

Steve nodded, slowly. 

“Yeah - I guess I do. But I’m also pretty damn good at my job. So - it feels like the right thing, I guess.”

He didn’t sound too sure, but you felt his heart rate quicken, noticed the way his eyes were shifting away from you, and that alone was enough to know to change the subject.

“Okay - then, I have a totally different question,” you said.

“Yeah?”

“In the bathroom, back at the party - please tell me these earrings didn’t actually cost you a million dollars. That was an exaggeration, right?”

He paused for a moment, then shrugged.

“You caught me - I misspoke. They were actually a million Euros - so I think that works out to be more in dollars.”

Your eyes widened, and you realized that he wasn’t lying.

“Steve -”

“Whatever you’re about to say, don’t,” he said firmly. “I want you to have them, and keep them. They look really nice on you… especially like this.”

You felt your face heat, suddenly aware of just how exposed you were, lying nude across his bed. Steve just grinned a bit devilishly, and you decided to kiss it right off of his face.

You weren’t sure how much time passed after that. You made your way under the covers at some point, pressing into Steve’s side while you both talked - about anything and everything. He divulged only a little bit more information about his life growing up, and you did the same; you talked about college, work, the kinds of movies and music you liked, stories of dates gone wrong, your least-favorite foods, books you had read recently. It was easy, casual, and strangely normal. You weren’t sure when you fell asleep. But, the last thing you remembered was your cheek pressed to Steve’s chest, his voice lulling you into darkness.

*****

The next morning, you woke up to early morning light peeking through the massive windows, neither you nor Steve bothering to have drawn blinds over them the night before. You blinked groggily, face half-buried in the pillow as you reached across the covers. You were met with an empty bed. You shot up, glancing around as you adjusted to your surroundings. As your brain kicked into gear, you finally reflected back on the night before, and realized with a sense of horror that you had spent the night. You weren’t sure if you were supposed to do that - it’s new territory. And where was Steve? Was he angry? Did he move to the couch? It was a Sunday, so work was unlikely. 

As you stretched and yawned, you spotted something out of the corner of your eye - a piece of paper on the nightstand. You picked it up, noticing Steve’s telltale handwriting immediately:

I went out for a run. I’ll pick up something for breakfast on my way back - I wanted to let you sleep in. Feel free to help yourself to anything you need. - Steve

You rolled your eyes - as if you would’ve thought the note would be from anybody else. You reached up to rub your eyes, and when you looked down, you spotted the smudges of makeup worn into the pillow. Shit. You hated sleeping in makeup.

That was how you found yourself swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, padding to the ensuite bathroom. You nearly jumped when you caught sight of yourself in the mirror - you had raccoon-like eyes, mascara smudged and worn into your skin. Your hair was a disaster, and to your own satisfaction, your skin was marked with bruises. Your fingers ghost the marks, remembering where Steve’s lips had been the night before, the things he had said - 

You shook the feeling, deciding instead to root through the drawers and cabinets until you found a towel, wasting no time to hop right in the shower. The large, glass-enclosed tile shower was a luxury compared to the little stall you had at home, the water pressure positively glorious. You smirked at the unusually large selection of products lining the wall - of course he had an intense hair routine. You were almost positive he had more stuff in his shower than you and Robin combined. You found something that you knew would at least get the job done, letting the soap wash everything away as you exhaled deeply. You couldn’t help but smile, the scent of the suds reminding you of Steve. 

After wrapping yourself in the towel, you scoured the cabinets until you found mouthwash, figuring it was better than nothing. 

When you returned to the bedroom, you realized your next predicament - the only clothing you had was your gown from last night, which was currently strewn across the floor as part of a trail of clothing leading to the bedroom. You felt yourself blush at the memory. Would Steve mind if you borrowed his clothes? Or, was that a step too far? Did he have a robe, maybe? You opened the closet across the room. To your relief, there was a robe. If you had to guess, there’s a good chance it just came with the apartment - it looked as if it had never been worn. You pulled it on, practically groaning at the feeling of the fluffy fabric on your damp skin. 

You had never been to his apartment in the daylight, you realized - it was nice. It still felt a bit empty, not quite lived-in, but the big windows really lit the whole place up. It must’ve been East-facing, with how bright the late-morning light was. You weren’t even sure what time it actually was - should you text Steve, and let him know you’re awake?

You searched the room for your phone, finally unearthing it from inside the small clutch you had brought to the gala last night, sitting right on the island in the kitchen. You hadn’t even gotten a chance to look at it after you’d gotten back last night - and, much to your chagrin, it was dead. 

From what you could see, there wasn’t a phone charger in sight. You made your way back to the bedroom, hoping there was one there already plugged into the wall, maybe near the nightstand. When you failed to find one, you took the next logical step, opening the nightstand drawer. The last thing you wanted was to go rooting through Steve’s stuff more than you needed to, but if there wasn’t a charger in there, you figured you’d have to give up as just wait for him to get back.

Inside the shallow drawer, there were a few assorted items - a comb, a few condoms, some spare Euro coins - and, luckily, a phone charger. You pulled it out, pleased with yourself.

You shouldn’t have looked further. Looking back, you should have closed the drawer, plugged in your phone, and waited for Steve to return. Maybe then you could have had a nice, lazy morning with Steve, sharing coffee and pastries in bed. But, something caught the corner of your eye, something that made you freeze. It was buried underneath everything else, but you could see enough to gather what it was.

You reached in with a shaky hand, pulling out a postcard-sized piece of paper. On it, was a picture of Steve, his arms wrapped around a woman with a sunset behind them. The woman was beautiful - curly brunette hair, big blue eyes, a charming smile. Steve had his head on her shoulder, cheek pressed into hers with the widest smile you’ve ever seen on him. And, printed next to the photo in big, cursive text:

SAVE THE DATE: Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler are tying the knot on September 3rd in Riverhead, New York. Invitation to follow.

You read it once. Twice. Fifty times. You gripped the edges hard enough to crinkle them, the image of Steve and Nancy growing blurry as your eyes started to burn.

The date was from last September. Nearly a year ago… Steve Harrington was married.

****

Author's note: ah! A cliffhanger! Yes, I introduced angst, but I promise it'll be resolved by the end of the next chapter. Sorry for the wait, but this part is basically double the length of all of the previous parts, so at least there's that! I'll do my best to continue tagging you all, but sometimes Tumblr won't let me! Turn on post notifications for future parts! As always, your thoughts, reblogs, and comments are appreciated! And, special shoutout to my bestie Em, who constantly fuels my fantasies for this fic!

[crushedsweets]

hi! idk if you explained this already, but what/who are zalgoids in your au? Or rather how did they become zalgoids? sorry if that didn’t make sense lol, btw love your art!! <3

hi! so, IN MY AU, zalgoids are anything infected by zalgo. To get infected, you either need to die/on your last breath, and zalgo chooses to infect you. OR you need to be bitten by lazari when she's in her zalgoid form.

all zalgoids are stuck in the slender forest so long as the proxies keep the pages around. the 'ink' on those pages is slendy's inky vomit, which is gross BUT it physically traps zalgoids. sometimes there are 'containment breaches' when people mess with the pages, WHICH IS WHYYY the proxies/slendy get so heated about the pages.

zalgo usually takes eyes as a form of 'payment' for reanimation. he has an obsession with "having eyes everywhere" and his own body is littered with them.

all of his attempts at reanimating humans failed. he's only managed to properly control animals in the forest - so there are several zalgoid wolves, coyotes, bears, even rats littered about.

zalgo usually takes the form of a wolf or a goat, cuz his demon form is easy to spot n takes a lot of energy.

i'll talk about the individual zalgoids underneath the cut! lulu, ann, jack, dina, and lazari!

lulu died of hypothermia in the forest. a hazing ritual from the sorority she was joining made her jump into the freezing lake and while walking back, she collapsed. the group dug her a shallow grave and ran off. zalgo 'reanimated' her at the cost of her eyes , but lulu is REALLY weak, lethargic, and still thinks shes going back to her dorm

ann used to be a redroom 'dominatrix nurse' who tortured victims for money. one of her 'fans' found her location, dragged her to the abandoned hospital, and dismembered her on camera. during a patrol, kate stumbled on the scene and killed the man. meanwhile, zalgo infected anns corpse - this time, taking only one eye and fucking with the other. but anns also useless because she thinks shes always on camera and the hospital is a labyrinth for her.

while jack was being sacrificed to the cult, they were using slendy's goop on him in the forest. so when he lost his eyes, was force fed meat, and losing consciousness cuz he couldnt breath, zalgo tried to infect him early. since he was still alive during it, it messed up the whole infection process + the slendy goop in his eyes made it painful for zalgo. jack is TECHNICALLY a zalgoid, but zalgo has no control over him + he had no eyes to take...

dina became a zalgoid when lazari bit her. they grew up in the same cult, dina was the center of it - and while sneaking out, lazari was sick and attacked her. dina then dragged lazari to the forest to kill her (as the 'divine judge angels' she believed she had the right to kill anyone she judged unworthy). but... lazari tore out dinas throat..... so when zalgo infected dina's body, she quickly became a strong zalgoid! she's actually useful, actually wants to kill the proxies, actually wants to escape - but most of her hate is directed towards lazari, and zalgo wants lazari alive

and of course, lazari is a zalgoid. when her mother was in the cult, she was infertile - which basically made her a cult failure. she was deemed a useless woman for not bringing children into the world. so she prayed to anything - including demonic forces - and zalgo preyed on her when she did a ritual in the forest. so lazari is born!

the zalgoid strengths go: lulu -> ann -> dina -> jack -> lazari

but lazari is the easiest to appeal to, and the proxies + jack already did, so she's mostly harmless! good ally to have (when not hungry)

[dumb-teambucciarati-headcanons]

Cute nicknames they have for each other <3

Giorno: he usually just calls people by the name they introduce themselves to him as. He has tried playful nicknames and it just doesn’t work for him. He will call enemies things like “pieces of shit” or whatever though.

Bruno: a really big fan of calling them all fools. And while this nice nickname is pointed at all of them, it is especially aimed at Mista and Narancia. Like Fugo is a fool but not in the same category as those two buffoons, which is another nickname he has for those two.

Abbacchio: he calls them all dumbasses and idiots, except for Bruno and Trish. He has gotten very close to calling Bruno a dumbass before though. Calls specifically Narancia and Mista annoying. Will call Fugo a smartass if he is losing an argument against him, it’s his way of making himself feel better about losing an argument to a teenager.

Mista: calls them all buddy and punches their shoulder while he does it. He calls specifically Narancia little buddy because he is short. Calls Bruno boss man in a super casual tone. He called Giorno Jojo once and in that moment was given divine knowledge that not even I, the headcanon writer, know the depths of.

Narancia: he called Abbacchio “tall guy” when he first met him and got punched in the gut. He decided that nicknames weren’t a good idea after that moment. Despite his trauma he will still call Mista best buddy. If the nickname “big brother” didn’t make him want to vomit, and he wasn’t so afraid of getting punched in the gut, he would probably call Bruno that.

Fugo: has called Mista and Narancia idiots before, will probably do it again. In his edgy young teenager days (lol as if those are over) he would call Abbacchio a pig. In a fit of rage he called Bruno a “dragonfruit looking weirdo” and Abbacchio will passive-aggressively buy dragonfruit sometimes to remind them both of that scenario.

Trish: calls Mista variations of “stinky” and “smelly” and sometimes just “gross”. Has called Giorno the frog man, like “wow, you’re the frog man”. Which may sound like an insult, but Giorno wasn’t offended because he is the frog man.

[sneppu]

sometimes a pun comes to you like the divine hands of a higher being touching all over your braincell (gross, rude), but though you now have that information stored within, you realize you have absolutely no fitting opportunity in which to actually say it

I imagine Snape feels like this all the time. Having infinite absolutely banger lines/insults for infinite hyper-specific and increasingly unlikely scenarios. Devastating words biding their time for the day in which they will be set loose upon the world to absolutely demolish some poor unfortunate soul for the crime of inducing his displeasure.

[mintaikk]

Analyzing the Circus & Biblical Design Elements in Hellaverse: Beelzebub

The Queen Bee of Gluttony herself, Queen Beelzebub!

Honestly, when I first saw her design, I was so surprised to see that she was a fox. I mean, she's the Lord of the Flies, right? Why is she a fox? Then her design grew on me, and now I can also talk about the demonology references, the biblical references, and the Divine Comedy references.

Why Beelzebub is a Fox

The first reason that she is a fox is bcuz Vivzie wanted to make a reference to her Die Young video, and to separate her from Hellhounds.

Then there's the lore reasons she's a fox!

In a lot of fables, foxes are tricksters, always cunning and using sweet talk to get what they want. And in so many of those fables, it's always to get food (looking at you, Aesop). Farmers also hated them because they come in and streal baby animals, like chicks and small baby lambs, to take away and eat. This has also made them seen as being greedy and, well, gluttonous. Beelzebub herself even mentions that Belphagor has to lock away her party drugs so Bee doesn't come in and steal them.

OH! Foxes are also tricksters, I've said that! But that also fits Bee so well! She says she's a honeybee, but bees have two sets of wings, while she only has one. And I think this is because of how flies are seen. Flies are seen as greedy, obnoxious, and really gross pests. They steal the food from others and will drink and eat anything. But honeybees are seen as hard workers who make delicious food. So, it's not that bad if she was to lean into being a Bee more than a Fly. Even if it's a little misleading, it's not harming anyone.

She also does somewhat trick the guests at her party. She starts Cotton Candy with, "I'm what you need," before switching to "I'm what you want, not what you need." She starts the song saying that gluttony is what they need, but then by the time she says it's what they want, they already believe it's what they need. It's like how the foxes in these fables always tell the truth after they've lied and got what they wanted.

Demon Aspects

She's Beelzebub! Lord of the Flies!

Before I do this, fun fact: while Beelzebub is mostly male in mythology, he was said to sometimes change his appearance to female to trick men into lusting after him (Gluttony and Lust were very tied together in The Lesser Key of Solomon). So, Bee being female isn't actually that out of the ordinary!

BUG WARNING

Anyways, biblically accurate Bee. Aren't they cute?

(He has a little jester thing on his neck. What a silly little guy)

Alright, ik it seems difficult to compare this to her ultra fem furry design, but hear me out! Bee shares the same antenna as Beelzebub, and her ears are in the same shape as his abdomen (they're also shaped like Beehives). They also both have six limbs. That's pretty much it. But there's other stuff that relates her to him!

(Ik I said flies only have one set of wings and Biblical Bee has 2 and is a fly, but that's because he's the king of the flies. He's going to be extra)

Bee herself acts more like a fly than a bee. While she can conjure up food wherever she goes, she relies on the people in her parties and in her ring to work for her. She needs the guests to have a good time so she can "get high on all of this tasty energy," and while she advertises Beelzejuice and can probably make some herself, I don't think she's the sole provider of it. Ozzie makes sex toys, but he has an entire factory and workers to help him with it. I bet Bee has the same thing, but she doesn't help out with making it as much. She'd rather sit around and indulge in it than help out in making it. Like a fly stealing the hard-earned honey made by bees, which, in this case, would be the hellhounds.

Also, yeah, that. She's the Lord of the Flies, but she's a canine. I think it's because she's queen of the Hellhounds. Beelzebub being s fly matches his subjects, but Beelzebub being a Bee here in most fan designs wouldn't fit with her being their queen, especially since she's shown to be more involved in her subjects than the rest of the sins. So, think of the Hellhounds as the flies and her as their lord.

(Not me hating the fan designs, tho. I absolutely love Bee Beelzebub)

Also, wanna know why hellhounds are in the Gluttony ring? It's because Cerberus, the OG Hellhound, is in the Gluttony Ring in Dante's Inferno.

Circus Elements

Vivziepop herself stated that each sin represents a Circus Act and that Beelzebub is an animal tamer, which is why she has so many hoops that she flies through in her mansion.

Her being an animal tamer also makes sense away from her design and house. Many animal trainers train the animals using food or something else they want. Beelzebub doesn't train the Hellhounds to do anything, but she does use food and alcohol to attract them to her parties and watch her perform.

I also want to compare Beelzebub's design to stereotypical Animal Tamer costumes.

Beelzebub's fluffy shoulders remind me of the cuffs on stereotypical tamer costumes, snd the open chest and shorts is present in a lot of them as well. The crown present in her design is a reference to her being the Queen of Gluttony, but it could also be how tamers are now the "kings/queens" over the animals they tame, especially lions, since most she known for taming lions and lions are seen as the Kings of the Jungle.

Also, while most sins are animals, Beelzebub resembles an animal the most because of her specific act.

Thanks for reading this far! I'm tired!

[thegutterbunny]

Leftism Tires Me.

I'm just gonna put this here because nobody's gonna see it anyways. I'm just trying to organize my messy ass thoughts. Lately, I've been feeling really disillusioned with leftism, but I don't have the proper words for why. Every time I try to google "leftists are annoying" or something all I get is right wing shit. A lot of this is based on experiences I've both IRL and Online. A lot of this is me struggling to put feelings to words. I feel like my personality just doesn't JIVE right with leftists. I'm pretty materialistic, I love stuff. Mostly books, games, kink gear, and clothes. I drool at other people's wardrobes and goth decorated bedrooms. I don't really care which online stores are the "bad ones". I DO want them demonias. They look cool. I like fan servicey/sexy character designs. They're hot. I want more hot characters that aesthetically appeal to me that I can gawk at. I hate when twitter users and talking heads pretend like they are above such "base tastes". I think people are too uptight about having a squeaky clean record of consuming media. Steering away from problematic artists and art into an ever-shrinking circle of "safe" art and artists. It should depend on what you're personally comfortable with, I think. I've dropped artists that I think are reprehensible. Not ever out of some sense of morality and duty, but because they gross me out and I can't look at them the same. Other artists do or have done terrible things, but that adds to the flavor somehow. Makes them more interesting and worth diving into. Sometimes it even humanizes them. Sometimes the art is SO GOOD I just don't give a shit. The constant emphasis on the collective over the individual is off putting to me. I think rules based on morality always end up having to be made arbitrarily because when building a moral system you ALWAYS run into contradictions and inconsistencies. This is because morality is this thing we made up. We don't find morals in nature. They weren't "discovered". Morality isn't divine. Morality is a TOOL. Which is why this idea that being a small part of something "larger than myself" freaks me the fuck out. Sacrificing pieces of myself... Be it my time, my identity, my aspirations, and my body to a machine called "revolution" is off-putting in an existential way. "Your feelings matter until they don't" is that unspoken leftist creed. Philosophers and philosophy enthusiasts are the most annoying irritating motherfuckers to be around. OH HOW I HATE THEM. NEVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER VENT OR SPILL YOUR GUTS TO A PHILOSOPHY NERD. NEVER MAKING THAT MISTAKE AGAIN.

Sometimes I feel like leftists are more concerned with defending leftism itself than actual people and their feelings. They sanctify the lens they view the world through other then the people they view through that lens. They can be just as biased, stubborn, and incurious as everyone else. Look, not everyone has the time or energy to look through constant studies or be scholars, I get it, but summa y'all just unthinkingly latch onto narratives and refuse to unclutch only because everyone else around you has latched onto the narrative too. The amount of times I've seen someone latch onto a narrative without even thinking about it... Just based on vibes... FUCK. This last one... Speaking as an autistic person... Is rough. Leftist spaces are SUPER cliquey and ran by the same Social Capital rules as anywhere else. There are the same invisible lines to tread here as anywhere else that torture me as someone who's blind to where they lay. Break and self censure yourself to fit in. Nobody's in disagreement. It's just you, and if you disagree we'll all quietly and silently move away from you without a word like everyone else. It depends on the exact space you're in. Whatever friend group or discord server, the feel can "change". People with the most charisma are rewarded with attention, admiration, and a feeling of belonging. Being awkward, shy, quiet, or having the neurodivergent "stench" makes to ostracized. Just. Like. Everywhere. Else. FUCK. YOU.

OK that's enough schizo posting. There's even more I could touch on, but I'm tired and I wanna play Silent Hill 2. If anyone who's read this has the time, what's the diagnosis? What should I do with myself? Am I beyond saving or whatever? I don't even want to "leave leftism" or whatever the fuck, but there's so much... Pressure... here. So much judgement. I want something better for myself but I look everywhere and I can't find it.

[peri-berrypawductions]

@superkitten176 your wish is my command

WANDERGRIEF.. BUT SWAPPED! :D

I’ve actually had the au for a bit! Just never posted about it until now!!! Finished the designs now, too! ^^

Basically, in this version of Wandergrief (which I’ll call swapgrief) instead of Kiwi losing their loved ones.. it’s Miriam.

While Kiwi gets to keep their Mom and Sister, Miriam.. is not so lucky. Grandma Saphy dies of old age. Miriam had been expecting this, as she and Saphy had divinated that she’d pass before the end of the world, which was coming soon. Miriam obviously wasn’t too sure what to make of this.. so she just.. spent as much time with Saphy as she could before waking up one morning to find her still and at peace, a smile on her face, not breathing anymore.

She didn’t cry, though.

She had been expecting this…but it still hurt.

Miriam, in this au, is a lot less grumpy, more or so just.. Numb, in a way? Melancholic? She isn’t as rude, if rude at all, not really feeling the energy to really get mad unless it’s someone like Audrey or someone REALLY presses her buttons. Sometimes when she’s in a REALLY bad mood she’ll lash out at the smallest things, but what do you expect of a person who’s grieving but believes they’ve already accepted it?

She isolates herself a lot, Used to the feeling, but is actually just.. really lonely. It’s as if she were the only person left in the world, feeling like she has no purpose. Even emerald, her and grandma Saphy’s cat, still didn’t seem to help with how alone she felt. To try to get rid of this feeling, Miriam wants to bring Saphy back with the resurrection spell in her grandma’s old spell book…BUT UNLIKE WANDERGRIEF KIWI she is FULLY aware of what could happen to her if she actually did it, she just doesn’t care. Anything to make her feel less alone. Anything.

And, as a final little “proving myself” moment, Miriam takes on the challenge of trying to save the world, throwing herself into work and adventure to try to ignore all the grief, forcing herself to believe she had accepted it right when it happened. She meets kiwi at Langtree, like normal, And decides to bring them along with her when she herself decides they could be useful, if not to just sing the overseers songs and do the talking so she didn’t have to, not feeling up to it. Like normal, their friendship grows overtime, Miriam slowly opening up more around the bard, having been pretty closed up for most of this! Kiwi soon notices how.. just, not okay she acts in general, and soon figures out Miriams plan. And, since Missi’s alive in this au (who’s dating a witch), they know how self damaging and possibly deadly that spell can be, Growing even MORE concerned when Miriam states she simply doesn’t care. after that kiwi’s main mission is to make sure Miriam KNOWS she’s not alone, so that maybe.. just maybe she’ll reconsider.

She’s not alone.

She never has been.

…

OKAY Story out the way, here’s some more stuff about her!!

Y’know how Wandergrief kiwi’s sleep deprived? Gotta make Swapgrief Miriam sleep deprived too!! Surprisingly, however, she doesn’t suffer from chronic nightmares like Kiwi (cause it wasn’t as traumatic for her as she saw it coming, still traumatizing so yes she does have nightmares sometimes but not often like SOME LITTLE BARD who had to see their mom DIE in a FACTORY ACCIDENT)! For her, It’s a mix of insomnia (which, yes, Wandergrief kiwi has) and overworking herself. Shes basically become a workaholic to try and ignore her icky feelings, feeling that they don’t matter and she shouldn’t bring them up cause she’d probably get all sappy and gross if she does! Her work really consists on plans if things go wrong, making back up potions with anything she can find, doing extra chores or things to keep herself busy (even if she wasn’t asked), All sorts of stuff, which.. is really taking a toll on her mental state, as you’d expect- Even when she DOES try to sleep, insomnia kicks in and BOOM she’s thinking about things she COULD be doing right now…Or her feelings and emotions, which almost instantly makes her get up to do more work until she can get her mind off it, ignoring them completely.

She kept, and wears, grandma Saphy’s hat! Just a little thing to remember her by besides her broom.. and since it broke in act 5 (I think) that just got her even worse mentally. She still hasn’t forgiven the spell squad for breaking it. Most of that act after that has Miriam looking even more melancholic and upset, sentences being dry and even more emotionally distant. She gets better eventually, though.

Emerald is being taken care of by ash back in Delphi until Miriam returns! I like to think her and Ash in this universe were actually kind of “friends” (more or so acquaintances) in these events.

I don’t have an ending to this au yet, and I don’t have any ideas for how it’s gonna go when Miriam got hurt in that one chapter and went home.. but leave suggestions if ya want! Thanks for reading :D

More of this “au of an au” might come soon!

[goatbeard-goatbeard]

To me, the Good Omens angels/demons read as intentionally incompetent. Or, well, not exactly intentionally… but not exactly unintentionally either.

The best way I can explain this is with insects. An insect doesn’t know why it likes certain stimuli, but it will still go toward them. It doesn’t know why it dislikes other stimuli, but it will still avoid them.

Being a competent angel is deeply unpleasant. It requires getting to know earth and humans, which brings up uncomfortable feelings about how much heaven/hell sucks. It requires doing things that will upset the humans, and allowing things to happen which they have the power to stop. That brings up even more bad feelings, especially if they’ve been doing their homework wrt earth and humans.

An angel may not know why they feel so bad learning certain things about earth. Maybe they’ll assume they just don’t belong there, maybe they’ll look at human things as “gross matter”, but the end result is that they shrink away from the unpleasant stimulus. As a side bonus, their lack of knowledge means they’ll sometimes fumble their angelic tasks, or leave enough space for Crowley and Aziraphale to fix things for the humans afterward.

As history goes on, more of that slack creeps into the system, more bureaucracy piles up under the wheels to subtly stop things from happening, and there’s less and less divine/infernal intervention.

If you asked them if that was the intended outcome, they would deny it, even in their own minds. If they were actually aware of how much they’re nerfing themselves, that would be active disobedience, rather than a case of “ah well, it must have been God’s will for this task to fail.” So the knowledge of what they’re doing is itself a noxious stimulus, and they’ve gradually, instinctively, learned to avoid that too.

But they’re sort of doing it on purpose. It’s just that part of “it” involves “not realizing what they’re doing.”

Related: Angelic Communication Styles

[zith-ipeth]

//TW I'M GONNA TALK ABOUT WEIGHT AND FOOD// What does it take? / Three years ago, today

I hate the front pages of social media

every other post is someone running away from a body I want, I see my before in their after and my after in their before. I see a girl in the mirror eating half a meal a day because "maybe I have a figure somewhere under all this skin and muscle and fat" I see a girl in my room, by my bed, by my mirror, looking at herself and saying

"I'm lucky to have a body like this, cis girls want this, I should want this"

I want to be fat... fuck that sounds stupid. would it sound stupid if someone a bit above my size said they wanted to be skinny? No you would say "Great good job get it girl" or whatever. but why is what I want not normal not healthy not ok. is it not ok because I'm at a "healthy weight"? while what if I was at that same healthy weight and said I wanted to be, say, 130 pounds. that would be an admirable, amazing, great goal. but saying that I want to be around 190 pounds, that's...

weird

maybe it's a fetish?

but you're healthy now dear...

I use to not be healthy though

I was a girl in a mirror, half a skeleton, I'm already getting into numbers so why stop now, I was 107 and 5'10. 15.4 bmi. I was...

such a pretty girl

wow you have such a shape

kinda lean muscle...

I didn't have any of that I had a BORDERLINE EATING DISORDER.

after a lot of mental work, I decided to gain weight, I started estrogen and started eating when I was hungry until I was full. I started gaining weight and at first that was scary, stretch marks were scary, and growing out of clothes was scary, I knew I wanted a type of body in the end but the between was strange and treacherous. but somebody loved my body enough for both me, and them, and eventually, after a year or two, I learned to love it.

I gained around 60 pounds, my body's mad at me still, my stretch marks are red and sensitive to the touch. but here I am, at what is medically considered a healthy weight and...

I want to gain a little more.

I've loved my body more and more the more weight I gained, so why is it that I should just stop at an arbitrary number made up by a FUCKING ASTRONOMER AND STATISTICIAN. I love having a tummy that rolls because I never used to have that, I love my thighs touching because they used to just be skin and bone, I love the hanging fat on my arms because its something magical and new and beautiful. I love how I look nude, I love my body unbound and without its drapes and wrappings, its so pretty and fun.

Now I get it, I'm not exactly facing oppression, (NOT SAYING FATPHOBIA ISN'T OPPRESSIVE, more that, I don't experience fatphobia,) I'm straight-sized as they come, but even then, I still feel weird when I wear crop tops sometimes, I still get comments when I eat a full plate of food, I still get comments when I go for seconds and I SOMEHOW EVEN AS SMALL AS I AM SOCIETY SEEMS TO SMALL FOR ME.

So I guess that's it, I want to be fat because I view that body type positively, it's not fetishistic it's not a kink it's just a goal, like losing weight. I want to be fat because the way my body would feel, the way I would move, would dress, would live, would be better for me

I think.

And like fuck it if im wrong whatever, my body is as moldable as it will ever be, I can just go back to where I am now.

But I dont think I want to

I hate to watch people run away from what I run towards, as if its scary, as if it's gross. Equally, I find it painful to watch people run toward what I ran away from as if it's innately more beautiful, more divine

Youre beautiful, and if you want to change yourself that's beautiful too, but sometimes I feel bad for flinching over peoples individual changes and choices. its just painful to watch sometimes, I guess. Painful to look at someone and see a mirror image of how you thought, and who you were

three years ago,

today

[thedreadvampy]

iesu christi the kneejerk horror about the existence of sex from The Teens is truly truly getting me down

when I, at 17, was like 'my concern with 2010 discourse is that it implies not being incredibly into sex 24/7 puts you in a discrete category of Unusual People, I think we should mainstream the idea that some people just aren't super into sex all the time.' I did not mean. normalise that and abnormalise being interested in sex.

but that does appear to be where we are. a bit insignificant cohort who are like 'what u think sex is fun what are you some kind of Freak Pervert'

you don't have to be interested in sex and it's completely normal and healthy for someone to be interested in sex. it's not Terrible Hookup Culture to have sex sometimes, it's a normal option for Fun Things To Do As An Adult.

Sexuality is not a sin. For some people it's super important and spiritual, for some people it's fun, for some people it's take-it-or-leave-it and some people don't want to be involved. these are all normal ways to feel, whether you're usually at one or you move around the spectrum over time, and none of them are intrinsically Gross Perversion.

You're fine. I'm fine. We're fine. The fact that someone somewhere is having it enjoying the idea of sex will not kill you. Seeing a titty on screen will also not kill you. Enjoy the infinite tapestry of human experience and accept that for some people anal fisting is a divine experience and for some people touching a butt while kissing is a bit more than they're comfortable with and both those things are fine ways to feel about your own experience.