#statue de couple

[zurich-snows]

statue de couple

-2500 / -2365 (Ve dynastie)

Lieu de découverte : Giza (Nécropole memphite->Région memphite->Basse Égypte) (?)

E 15592 ; E 22769

Département des Antiquités égyptiennes

[strathshepard]

Quentin de Briey

[stardust-swan]

Everyday Ways I Honour Aphrodite

(NSFW warning)

🌹Roses, roses, roses. Rose soap, rose lip balm, rose hand cream, rose lotion, rose perfume, rose oil on my pillow before falling asleep, rose candles, rose incense, roses in my garden, rosewater toner, rose face mist, rose shower gel, dried roses in the bath... Just roses everywhere you can fit them.

🌹Reading romantic books and poetry, watching romance films

🌹 Reading books and poetry about Aphrodite

🌹Making myself feel beautiful with pretty jewellery and makeup. Even just a swipe of tinted lip balm boosts my confidence (I use French Girl Rose Noir). I try to wear at least a little bit of makeup or jewellery daily, even if it's just a pair of studs or a subtle lipstick

🌹 Even if I'm just staying at home all day I'll spray perfume and put on jewellery and do lipstick just to feel sensual while I'm lounging around playing Animal Crossing (currently wearing a comfy embroidered nightie, small gold hoops, a pretty bracelet and a little bit of YSL Orange Perfecto lipstick as I write this)

🌹 Embracing my sensuality. Swaying my hips, feeling the softness of my body, dancing freely, engaging in self-pleasure, taking nudes, trying to unlearn the shame associated with sexuality from my upbringing. I don't watch porn often as I find most of it unhealthy and misogynistic (I only like this one random Japanese couple's channel and some vintage and Korean softcore), but I enjoy toys (my favourite is the rose), erotic literature, erotic film, audio porn (usually in other languages because I find a lot of dirty talk just makes me cringe but I still get enjoyment out of hearing little moans and silky low voices so I get that and avoid secondhand embarrassment from bad dirty talk by listening to it in languages I don't understand), and erotic fine art.

🌹 I try to get really comfortable when I'm engaged in self love. Lipstick and perfume on, hair styled, lingerie or nightie that makes me feel sexy, a candle lit or rose, ylang ylang and jasmine oil in my diffuser, soft music playing. Then I'll position myself comfortably, and stroke my thighs, tease my nipples, squeeze my breasts, lick my juices off my fingers and use it like a lipstick, painting my lips and nipples or using it to lightly lubricate my clitoris. Running my hands all over my belly, thighs and breasts, experimenting with different types of pressure and stimulation. Just luxuriating in the sensual feelings I can bring to my beautiful female body.

🌹 Wearing jewellery with seashells, pearls, emerald, ruby, bronze, copper, gold, jade, garnet and iridescent beads

🌹 Enjoying apples, honey, figs, pomegranates, strawberries, raspberries, olives, lettuce, rosewater and chocolate. I like buying Guylian chocolates as they're seashell shaped, but any chocolate will do (my favourite chocolate bar to buy is white chocolate with strawberries). I also like foods that you can taste the rosewater in like rose macarons and Turkish delight.

🌹 Making foods with ingredients she likes, like honey cakes, Persian rose love spell cookies, rosewater nougat, Persian love cake, baklava, cornes de gazelle, mhencha, etc... I mostly stick to Mediterranean, North African, Arab and Persian recipes, as they commonly use ingredients like rosewater, honey, pomegranates, and figs.

🌹 Carrying rose quartz in my pocket and keeping rose quartz under my pillow

🌹 I use a rose quartz roller to massage oil into my face

🌹 I keep a mini Venus de Milo statue and a swan trinket box on my bedside table

🌹 Drinking a drink made up of honey, cinnamon, milk and hot water at night to relax

🌹 Wearing pretty lingerie under my clothes, even if it's a basic outfit

🌹 I often fall asleep to the sound of ocean waves

🌹 Gold highlighter swept on my cheeks and body shimmer on my collarbones, reflecting light like sun rays on the ocean

🌹 Doing little offerings, like spritzing her statue with perfume, or offering up a portion of food I'm eating that I think she'd like

🌹 Lighting incense in scents like myrrh, frankincense, rose, vanilla, cinnamon, ginger and jasmine

🌹 Drawing myself relaxing baths with fragrant oils and salts

🌹 Reading hymns, Sappho's poetry, and listening to Athanati Afroditi

🌹 Listening to music that's romantic or sensual (this is my playlist)

🌹 Carrying a hand mirror and admiring myself as I check my makeup

🌹 Adding honey to tea

🌹 Writing letters and poetry about love and beauty

🌹Admiring women I find beautiful without jealousy or resentment, just appreciation

🌹Using these emojis: 🌹🦢🌊🪞🍎❤️💘💗💕💋🕊️🫒💄

🌹 Wearing pink, red, aqua, and seafoam green

🌹 Being consistent in self care. No matter how low my spoons are, unless I'm so dog-tired I end up falling asleep on the couch at 8pm, I force myself to do my evening skincare routine - cleansing, toning, eye cream, moisturiser, oil. And I always feel better for it even if I was exhausted before. Much smaller but I'm also consistent in oiling the ends of my hair daily and spraying perfume before bed. And I keep up with getting my hair done and brows waxed every three months without fail.

🌹 Doing exercises that make me feel sensual. I'm really lazy tbh but I push myself because I know Aphrodite would want me to take care of my body. I pick exercises that make me feel good and desirable, like yoga flow, belly dance, and exercises that target my womanly attributes.

🌹 Giving compliments!

🌹 Doing a big self care day every Friday (the day associated with her). Hot oil hair treatment, foot soak and exfoliation, removing old nail polish and buffing and filing nails, face mask, teeth whitening....

🌹 Going to the pond in winter and admiring the swans

🌹 Going to an art gallery in my city just to look at the painting Venus and Cupid (Day) by Fragonard

🌹 Sleeping on silk sheets as they feel sensual (they're also good for your hair and skin)

🌹 Making my own diffusers and cosmetics from natural, aphrodisiac products. Homemade bath salt with rose petals and pink salt, homemade lip mask with olive oil and rose oil, and adding oil of rose, jasmine, sandalwood, and cinnamon to a diffuser as I find these scents stimulating and sensual.

🌹 And of course, thanking Lady Aphrodite every day.

[writerfromthestars]

DP X DC PROMT: JASON IS CHOSEN TO RAISE DANNY

Danny's core was broken, shattered and almost irreparable. The damage would take decades to heal in his teenage body, seeing as it didn't have much room to grow or mutate to adult size. The only option is to de-age him and let him rebuild his ghost core naturally.

The issue with this is that he can't be in the infinite realms while he does so if he wants to conserve his halfa status. Too much ectoplasm at once would overload the kids body and kill him, while to little would ensure that he developed just a little to liminal to be ordinary, but not liminal enough to be considered a halfa.

The obvious solution? Send the kid to a location on earth so steeped in ectoplasm that he will have no problem filtering it form his surroundings, even with a broken core. The issue with this? The only place to match this criteria is either the compound of a psycho assassin demon king, or Gotham city. Obviously, they're not sending Danny to this League of Assassins, leaving Gotham. The issue lies in the fact that Gotham has a huge amount of ectoplasm, but it's been so corrupted over the years that unless a liminal is born there, the sudden overload of rotten ectoplasm is enough to put most limimals down for the count for at least a couple years.

The solution? A halfa guardian. The only issue is finding one. Clockwork refuses to let Vlad take custody of Danny, Dani is too young, and Dan too volatile. Luckily for them, there is a halfa currently residing in Gotham City, specifically, the Red Hood, the Avenger of Spirits, a moniker granted to him by the many people who died in Gotham that he, well, avenged.

He fits all the criteria for a guardian. He can keep the de-aged Danny safe because he's Red Hood, no one in the infinite realms can argue with the placement because he is also a halfa, he is Jason Todd, the son of a billionaire, and can teach Danny how to win people over, not to mention the fact that he is a crime lord, and can teach Danny how to run a, well, not quite a kingdom, but close enough.

Danny is de-aged, losing his memories of anything after about the age of two years. Jason wakes up one morning to a toddler on his doorstep with black hair with a white streak and Lazarus green eyes, tucked into a fluffy red blanket with a stuffed ghost plushie and a letter.

The letter essentially says:

Jason, you are the best option to raise him. His name is Danny.

Jason, quite understandably, freaks out.

[ew-selfish-art]

DpxDc AU: Soulmates only meet in the afterlife...And Danny is dead half of the time. 

It was the general consensus that Soulmates did indeed exist, and that there were a couple of hints to know if your soulmate was, but you wouldn’t know for certain until you died. This was often devastating for widows of non-soulmates but... Widows could hear the voices of and feel the phantom touches of their Soulmates. That after their loved one passed away, they didn’t truly leave them. 

Soulmates always traveled to the infinite realms together in a pair, unwilling to pass on without the other. This leads to the ghosts that seemingly never moved on and gave Danny so much grief, they needed to pass the time until their loved one died some how. 

Danny dies and feels himself talking to himself more often while transformed into Phantom, kicking butt and taking names aside. Just small things to reassure himself, nothing more than an instinct to process the situation he was in with this insane life he was living. 

I’m going to be okay, I’m going to get out of this.

I swear to all the ancients that Casper High better make a statue in my honor. 

Mom and Dad don’t mean it. 

The fundraiser to rebuild Poltergeist Avenue is going to be ridiculous.

Mom and Dad wouldn’t mean it if they really knew. 

Nasty burger really should rebrand but my goodness is this the best shit ever. 

It takes a few years to think about the fact that he might have a soulmate who could hear him- how unlikely would that be though? It’s not like he was haunting the person, so it probably wasn’t any big issue. Was there a proximity thing involved? Clockwork sighs and gives him no true answers. 

...

Tim has been hearing the voice of his Soulmate for years. Not...All the time though. He’d mapped out the time frame by which he did hear the additional male voice, accumulated enough data to determine a general profile and geotagged a few of the landmarks mentioned to find the most likely town. Restaurants, street names, highschools, and notable names all help Tim to find what he’s looking for. The concerning amount of comments on his soulmates parents make Tim’s blood boil and motivate him all the more. 

Thing is...Amity Park is under a complete media blackout. The challenge nearly makes him swoon, as if his dead soulmate were leading him towards his favorite hobby (taking down corrupt groups of assholes with too much power, cult or government, was his ideal pass time). He just wants to know who his soulmate was. He wants to know who is waiting for him. 

Arriving undercover and unannounced as a random tourist, Tim cannot find his soulmates grave. Can’t find anything about the person who died all those years ago and had spoken in his ear ever since. He’s about to storm the Mayor’s office, his plans for the GIW already in motion, when a ghost attack begins. 

Phantom arrives and suddenly Tim understands who exactly he’s been looking for. Getting into the crosshairs of the fight, Tim pulls a few RR moves and Phantom cautiously approaches him after capturing the assailant ghost. 

“I’m here because you’re my soulmate, and it’s very interesting that you only talk to me during non-business hours. Care to explain what you’re doing between 9 am and 3 pm, Monday through Friday?” 

“Uh... High school mostly. Wait you can hear me? You’re my soulmate?” 

Cue Danny de-transformation, explanation of his death and ability to die on command, and Tim’s very softball interrogation with his presentation on how he found Danny through the small conversational phrases.

They kiss as the GIW headquarters explode in the background.

[cupidcures]

When Tulips Kiss | Hwang Hyunjin SMAU

you and hyunjin were THE couple back in high school, and the two of you thought that you had found your perfect match. until one day, one misunderstanding turned everything around. the love that you had for one another turned into spite, anger, and hatred. a few years later, one of your best friends since childhood came home from studying abroad, resulting in your friend group to finally be complete again. but on your way to meet up with your friends at the local boba place, you run into the one whom you have grown to despise.

PAIRING: hwang hyunjin x f!reader

GENRE: social media au (with written parts), university au, non-idol au, crack, fluff, angst, slow burn, enemies to lovers, lots of push and pull, hyunjin’s a fuckboy

WARNINGS: mature themes, profanity, suggestive and talks of sexual intercourse, kms+kys jokes

FEATURED IDOLS: all stray kids members, soloist chuu, jiwon of fromis_9 (y/n fc), chaewon of le sserafim, and more

STATUS: ongoing

DISCLAIMER: this is 100% fiction and doesn’t portray how the featured idols act in reality, this is made purely for entertainment

𝜗𝜚 NAVIGATION

PROFILES: 𝜗𝜚 sonny angels || 𝜗𝜚 big hero 6

ZERO || introduction

ONE || let’s get the band back together!

TWO || we are SO back

THREE || LOVESTAY NIGHTCLUB!!!

FOUR || something about her

FIVE || hyunjin approved (?)

SIX || civil

SEVEN || the best of both worlds

EIGHT || de-stress

NINE || happy birthday

TEN || what is she doing?

ELEVEN || nintendo

TWELVE || keep it down

3TEEN || who are you

4TEEN || friends

5TEEN || don’t be mean

6TEEN || wish you were sober

7TEEN || hush up boy

8TEEN || ayen on top!

9TEEN || no feelings at all?

TWENTY || what a coincidence

TWENTY-ONE || gyu

TWENTY-TWO || guitar hero

TWENTY-THREE || take a hint

TWENTY-FOUR || nobody’s surprised

TWENTY-FIVE || log off.

TWENTY-SIX || WRONG ACCOUNT.

TWENTY-SEVEN || am i cooked?

TWENTY-EIGHT || nothing has changed

TWENTY-NINE || the second time?

THIRTY || a win is a win

THIRTY-ONE || #needthat

THIRTY-TWO || i’m a simp

THIRTY-THREE || i like studio ghibli

THIRTY-FOUR || throwback

THIRTY-FIVE || hwangster

THIRTY-SIX || better off

THIRTY-SEVEN || what if

THIRTY-EIGHT || + hyune

THIRTY-NINE || goodnight

FORTY || our gf

FORTY-ONE || THAT’S TERRIBLE

FORTY-TWO || …

FORTY-THREE || …

FORTY-FOUR || …

FORTY-FIVE || …

AND MORE TO COME…

TAGLIST (CLOSED)!

[yandereunsolved]

✐ᝰ Yandere Clark Kent 'Superman' ᝰ.ᐟ

Alien, farmer, reporter, superhero, and Justice League member are all titles Clark has collected over the years. They stretch from the most mundane to the ones that are given the highest respect. All of these titles pale in comparison to the one he yearns for the most: to be your husband. Every one of his positive traits seemed to disintegrate when it came to you, his accomplishments and status along with them. He was simply Clark to you, not Superman or Kal-El.

He was nothing but a love-sick maniac at your feet. His obsession threatens to break the moral code he is so devoted to. He understands that his attraction to you is something unhealthy and taboo. He is a beacon of light in the darkness of the world. Yet he'd be willing to blind the entire world with light just to be acknowledged by you. He'd cut out his own heart and present it in a gift box with a red bow if it'd please you.

You—just a human reporter who works at the Daily Planet. You who lives in a small studio apartment. You who has aspirations of doing something greater than just writing opinion pieces. You who has captured the noble hero's heart. 

You, you, you, you, you, you, you.

He can't get enough.

He doesn't get enough of you. You seem to actively avoid him. You interact with Lois so cordially; you two are close friends. He works with Lois. Why are you giving him the cold shoulder?

He knows everything about you. He knows your favorite restaurant, where you go to de-stress, your schedule, your hobbies, and your fantasies. He's spent so much time learning about you. You've learned nothing about him except for the fact that he's your dorky, sweet co-worker.

"Are you staring at them again? How long have you been staring at them? Why do you keep staring at them? Do you have a crush on them!?" Lois interrogates him with that same curiosity kindling in the back of her violet eyes.

He could demolish buildings in an instant, but he couldn't control his pale complexion from being invaded by a red hue. He had to think for a moment. His words had become lost in his mind, like they had been dispersed among the cosmos. He stuttered at first. It felt so out of character for him. He always, well, almost always, knew what to say. 

He had to be careful around her. He's lucky that he has been clever enough to keep his obsessive tendencies under wraps until Lois leaves his side.

"I just want to know why they refuse to talk to me." His words were laced with truth. Still, he was dodging her questions, as always.

Lois huffs in irritation, like he just said the most asinine thing one could ever utter.

"They obviously like you. They just think you're way out of their league."

"What?" He deadpans.

"I never give you the inside scoop about your darling little crush, but this one time I may." She teases him. "Clark, they like you. The googly eyes you two make at each other are such an obvious indication that you both are totally whipped for each other."

"You're serious?" His pupils dilate to such an extensive degree that you would have thought he was getting them checked by an optometrist. A lump forms in this throat, twice the size of his Adam's apple. "They like me?"

"They more than like you. They are interested in you, and you should totally ask them out on a date. I have to help a friend out, y'know? You two would make such a cute couple." Lois's pitch in her voice had become so much higher; even with her evident giddiness, there was an undertone of sulleness.

"Hey!" Lois calls you over. She waves her arm around and points towards Clark.

You scurry over in your flattering work outfit. It wouldn't be appropriate for him to eye you like a forbidden sweet. Still, he could feel his clothes grow tighter and his palms become sweaty. You couldn't even look him in the eyes. He wanted to gently tilt your chin up so your eyes would meet his. He'd eat a lump of kryptonite just for you to glance at him with that love-lorn expression. If only you knew, he could show; no, he has to show—

"You and him are going to go undercover in a local cafe a few blocks from here." He's snapped from his never-ending supply of thoughts about you. "It's supposedly a cover for a notorious drug cartel. Your cover story will be that you're a young couple going out on a date."  

You glance at Lois and eagerly nod. His words don't register your reply, but from Lois's grin, you obviously said something along the lines of yes. You walk off once again, your eyes sweeping across the aged carpet covering the office floor. Once out of hearing distance, Lois turns back to him.

"You're welcome. You owe me one." Lois nudges him in the side.

He could die a happy man now.

[b14augrana]

Scrubber

The aftermath of a Champions League final masterclass

Barça Femení x teen!reader

pt. 4 masterlist

Warnings: cuteness 💝💝💝 you guys know the status on that proofreading.

A/N: i was going to use catalan translation for majority of the spanish dialogue but the translator was not cooperating which sucks 🫤 sighhhh

i hope y’all missed her because the mighty brick wall of barcelona is back and better 💪🏼

our estrella, buenaza, spain minister of defense, pequeñita, nenita, bebita, chiquita, whatever you wanna call her, shes the team’s pride and joy 😚

Everyone was talking about the final for weeks. When you got back to Barcelona, it was like the entirety of Cataluña had watched it.

Even while you were walking with Irene to Mapi’s apartment, you got stopped on the street multiple times by Barcelona natives, praising your defensive performance. You thanked them of course, but you were still not used to the attention. If you weren’t used to this, you couldn’t imagine how Aitana felt.

“Will it always be like this?” you asked Irene, and she put an arm around your shoulder as you two walked. “Sí, but you’ll get used to it,” she replied.

The club had given the players a day to recover from the plane ride and relax before you started to celebrate the win. You and Irene slept over at Mapi’s apartment and then you all went back to the club facilities together to board the bus.

While you were in Bilbao doing the lap and talking to fans, you got handed a huge Boixos Nois flag, which you took without hesitation. It was surprisingly easy to get it onto the plane and when you landed in Barcelona, you stashed it (along with a few other things) in the locker room. That’s what you so urgently needed to grab when you ran into the facility, almost missing the bus as you ran back to it with the flag beneath your arm and your waistband loaded with other festive accessories... plus the scarf tied around your head.

"Buenaza, you have enough stuff?" Mapi asked, laughing at the flag and bulkiness beneath your shirt.

"Yeah, I think. Is it not enough?" you replied, and Mapi shook her head. "Don't worry, it's enough."

The bus jolted forward as it started to move, almost making you fall over. "(Y/N)!" Aitana said, beckoning you over to her.

You loved Aitana. At first, you were a little bit intimidated by her because of how incredible she is as a player. Normally when someone is that good, there is some sort of unspoken skill hierarchy that you feel separates you two, but Aitana was different. She wasn't like a mum to you — that role belonged to Fridolina — but instead she was like a big sister. Everyone on the team was like your big sister though. Aitana just happened to be one of your favourites.

"Sit down," she urged you, basically pulling you onto the spot beside her. She too had a scarf tied around her head, which you pointed out and said, "We're matching!"

"What's under your shirt?" Aitana asked, pointing at the lumps. "Oh, just some stuff. You can have a few if you want," you replied, lifting your shirt slightly to reveal the rather large blaugrana-coloured party poppers and streamers shoved into the waistband of your pants.

Aitana laughed and took a couple party poppers and a roll of streamers, "Gracías!"

You felt the bus turn, and that's when a question came to mind. "What do we do after the parade?"

"We're going to the Plaça Sant Jaume," Aitana replied, "But let's worry about that later. Look!" She stood up and looked over the railing, and you did the same.

Below you were what looked like thousands of people dressed in blue and red, waving flags and scarves and whatever else. You could hear music being performed live, and you saw confetti and red and blue smoke.

"Mierda..." you whispered, taking it all in. You saw a sign in the crowd; '(Y/N) (Y/L/N), EL MINISTRO DE DEFENSA ESPAÑA'. You took a minute to translate it in your head and when it clicked to you, a wide grin appeared on your face.

Aitana shook you and held up her party poppers, signalling you to do the same. When you got them out, you two held them off the side of the bus and after Aitana counted down from 3, you both pulled them, sending a stream of red and blue confetti down to the people on the street below.

“Aitana, (Y/N)!” Alexia yelled from the other side of the bus, waving you two over. You walked over to her, making sure to grab your flag.

“What’s going on?” you asked, and she pointed to the camera. “Team photo! You’re in the front, since you’re la estrella de la temporada,” Alexia said, thrusting you downwards to sit in front of everyone else. You looked at her stunned, about to object and say you’d rather stand, but then the cameraman told you to look towards the camera and smile. You grumbled under your breath but obliged, and you felt a pair of hands on your shoulders. You looked up to see that they belonged to Alexia, who was smiling at you proudly.

“Nuestra estrella es la millor!” Aitana yelled, jumping at the back and blowing the last of her party poppers just as the cameraman took the photo.

You flushed red. You felt so appreciated, not only by your teammates but by the fans too. When you joined the team, you were also concerned about being taken in by the fans. The girls always said that without their support they’d be nothing, so they were extremely important to you. Seeing them wear your jersey, hearing their cheers for you, feeling their love whenever you walked into the stadium, it all meant the world to you.

“Okay, photo’s done. Let’s celebrate!” Patri yelled, and everyone agreed. You shot to your feet, grabbing your flag and running to the back of the bus. You held it by the end of the pole, waving the large flag over the railing. Aitana and Patri joined you, flinging the rest of the streamers off the back of the buss and collecting confetti from the ground to sprinkle on the crowd and in each other’s hair.

Mapi ran up to you three and starting jumping up and down, waving her flag. “Una bandera ens agermanaaaa!” she sung, grinning as she waved her bandera proudly.

The bus eventually stopped outside the city hall and you all filed off. The city hall’s architecture was classical, and you liked it very much. You didn’t immediately go inside though; you spent a good 10 minutes personally talking to fans down below, and you also took some photos and other media for the club Instagram page. You enjoyed interacting with the fans, and you were slowly warming up to the idea of it.

You admired the building as you walked inside, and you were led up the stairs and to the balcony which overlooked many more fans. A microphone was passed around between each player, giving them the chance to speak to the fans.

The girls took turns greeting the fans. Alexia croaked out a “Visca el Barça” and Frido could barely say “Hola” with her voice being so gone. Lucy spoke Catalan for the first time in forever, per Ona’s request, and then the microphone ended up with you.

“Hola,” you started off, not really sure what to say. Mapi leaned towards the mic and said, “Si no te das cuenta, está muy nerviosa,” laughing mischievously as you yanked the mic away from her.

“¡No la escuches! Todo lo que tengo que decir es que Barcelona es el mejor club del mundo!” you said into the mic, your voice cracking. You hadn’t even realised you lost your voice up until then, but you laughed it off nervously, just wanting to give the mic away. “Visca Barça y visca Cataluña!”

You hurriedly passed the mic to Mapi, breathing a sigh of relief once it was out of your grasp. You weren’t the best at speaking to such a huge crowd yet, but you could’ve done worse.

Just then, you remembered that the Euros and Olympics were only a few months away. You knew how much talking and interviews that entailed, which wasn’t really up your lane. Like you told yourself before, this lifestyle would take some getting used to.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed in your pocket, making you raise an eyebrow. You fished around for it and when you eventually pulled it out, your eyes widened in alarm. ‘Hurry! Your 813 day streak is about to end! Log in to Hay Day claim your rewards’ flashed across your screen, and you had never slapped in your password faster. On top of everything, how could you forget?

“Finally logging in?” Ale asked, and you nodded. “I thought something was seriously wrong with you when I didn’t see you checking up on Bagheera Land,” she continued. That wasn’t meant to be the name of your town, but Mapi had gotten into your phone one day, changed the name of it, and you had never changed it back.

“Come on, we’re going back to headquarters and then you have to start packing so we can leave,” she said, and you put your phone back in your pocket as you walked down the stairs of the city hall.

You had received your call up to the Spain national team not very long ago. At first you were hesitant to accept because of the movement against the Spanish football federation, and you confided in Mapi about it, telling her you wanted to protest against the federation with her, but she had convinced you to take the opportunity. She said it would help you grow closer to your Barcelona teammates and also meet the other Spain internationals, plus develop as a player. You were still hesitant, but you listened.

Then you learnt that the upcoming matches were Euro qualifiers and the matches after that would be Olympic games. That terrified you. To Aitana you were always ‘Pequeñita’, to Irene you were ‘Nenita’ and to Mapi you were ‘Bebita’ — you were basically a baby, you couldn’t play in such big tournaments!

You poured all of these feelings out to Alexia on the bus ride back to headquarters. At the end of your rant, she put her hand on your shoulder and looked at you intently. “Chiquita, you played in the final of the biggest European club competition and ended up being the player of the match. Without you, we wouldn’t have won that! You can play in the Olympics and the Euros, I believe in you.”

She wrapped her arms around you in a reassuring hug which you gratefully accepted, hugging her back tightly. “Thank you. I feel a little bit better about it now,” you giggled.

“Now, when we get back to headquarters, grab your stuff from your cubby and make sure you pack tonight. I’ll come pick you up tomorrow from Irene’s and if you’re not fully packed…”

“I will be, I promise,” you answered. “Can I take my Vidić jersey?”

“Chiquita, we’re only playing two matches. You’ll be reunited with your beloved jersey in no time,” Ale said. That wasn’t enough reassurance for you, and you looked at her with pleading eyes. The woman grumbled and shook her head, fighting back a smile. “Fine, I guess you can bring it.”

“You’re the best, Ale!”

[fireheartwraith]

There are a lot of different traditions during Carnaval, but the allegoric cars players have been building are known to be part of the Parade of the Samba Schools, so I thought I'd explain how it works!

For starters, the Parade is a competition. Each team is called a samba school and they have their own flag and history. People can be really hard or die for their teams! Some are connected to soccer teams, like Gaviões da Fiel (the school) is connected to Corinthians. The two main parades (of this type of carnaval) happen in São Paulo and Rio de Janeiro.

Each school has one hour to completely walk across the sambódromo, and in that hour they have to tell a story or message. That is one of the things they are judged on! The criteria are the drums, the samba-enredo (enredo literally means plot, but this is a genre of samba), the evolution (how the story develops), the harmony (is everyone singing together? Do the people in the parade know the lyrics?), the plot itself, the allegoric cars and accessories, the costumes, the opening act, and the mestre-sala and porta-bandeira.

The parade is divided into sections called alas, and each one of them functions as a chapter in the story being told and have their own separate choreography. The first one is the Comissão de Frente (the opening act). They set the tone for the rest of the team and the public, so it’s common to see celebrities here to get the audience hyped.

Another crucial part is the drums. They are setting the beat that everyone is dancing to, so they shouldn’t make any mistakes. To both hype them and keep the pacing is the Rainha da Bateria (the Queen of the Drums). She’s a woman dancing samba in very minimal clothing but very heavy accessories. This is a very prestigious spot, the dream of any passista (this is what the samba dancers are called). Since they are the face of the parade, celebrities are sometimes given the position, and not all of them deserve it.

There are other passistas atop the allegoric cars, but they are not the only type of dancers. There’s the Ala das Baianas (ala of the baiana women): older (usually black but not necessarily) women dancing in traditional clothing. Honestly one of my favorite parts of the parades.

But my favorite part is the mestre-sala and porta-bandeira. There are several throughout the parade, but only the first one is graded. They are a couple: the man is the mestre-sala dancing around the porta-bandeira (literally 'flag carrier'), who dances with the school flag, and wears a big skirt, usually in the school colors. I wanted to be one when I was a kid, they dance doing twirls and it just looked like so much fun.

There are other unnamed alas, of course, and the allegoric cars.

The samba schools are very tied to black history and black communities, so their stories are usually very powerful. Like the year they represented a former president as a blood sucking vampire with the presidential sash, or this year, where they showed a statue of a known slaver graffited and on fire. Seriously, some of these cars are insane, and most of them have moving parts while also being light enough to be pushed or motored across the sambódromo, but sturdy enough to support all the dancers on top of it. A true feat of engineering! See the size of the woman near the statue's feet compared to the whole thing?

Most people celebrate carnaval by going to street parties called "bloco de carnaval" (basically a mini parade with live music), but these huge parade still get a big audience, despite streaming so late at night.

Here's this year's presentation from Vai-Vai if you're curious to see everything in motion! Originally, I had put a link to Estácio de Sá's presentation, but some politicians want to apply sanctions to Vai-Vai because it represented cops as demons. A few days later, a white man attempted to kill a black man, and the black man was arrested despite witnesses telling the cops what really happened. When news broke out, they kept him in prison on claims of "resisting arrest." So, why is it wrong to say cops are devils?

Anyways, the Vai-Vai presentation is about celebrating blackness and black creativity and resilience. Happy Carnaval! The winners this year were Mocidade Alegre in São Paulo and Unidos da Viradouro in Rio de Janeiro. You can look up their presentations if you want to.

[slowd1ving]

Hello can u write a Dokja x Medusa!male!reader please

HOW TO TRAIN YOUR GORGON ゜゜・KIM DOKJA

'You listening, Dokja? Maybe if you followed the guides for dealing with intelligent species like this one, you wouldn't be in such a stupid mess.' yall think aegis can be used as a different sort of barrier?!?! sorry anon this is less mythology centric than i planned icl art by @ 1L9l2Aa8UCL0IGJ (blackbox) on x! pairing: kim dokja + male reader warnings: canon typical danger, mentions of self-sacrifice wc: 2.9k

ORV MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

There exist several unspoken rules when interacting with the particularly volatile species integrated onto Planetary System 8612. Most ‘monsters’ are unable to effectively communicate with the main intelligent species in the domes, thus are doomed for imminent slaughter. However, exceptions like the catalyst behind these reports must be treated with particular regard. 

Guidelines will serve you well in the coming days, reader. If you’ve accessed these reports, it probably means the days are bleak and you’ve encountered one of these species. One thing is for certain; if you are reading this, you will survive your encounter with a gorgon. 

< Observation log, section 1 > (Relative Earth time 21/◼◼/20◼◼)TRANSCRIPT OF RECORDING

‘Rule number one: if possible, do not engage with a gorgon. Though, considering your perusal of these records, it seems this was not successful on your end. Better luck next time!’

‘Sooyoung-ah, don’t be ru—’

Avoidance was always a good policy when it came to the apocalypse. It saved time, toil, and lives—much like a vaccine helped one bypass a virus. But one couldn’t rely on it entirely; neither vaccine nor evasion was infallible after all. 

‘If they were, these records would not need to exist.’

And for humans, their biggest hamartia was their ignorance. Nerve cells could only do so much to detect dangerous stimuli and trigger a reflex for flight. If the hazard was less obvious, much more innocuous, then the poor human would only be wading into quicksand if they weren’t smart enough. Right before getting devoured. 

‘Of course that squid was the blind one who got us into this mess.’

Just like these unspoken rules, it was de facto that Kim Dokja was unlucky. Unfortunate. Ill-destined. However you chose to put it, the man was born under a cursed star, which meant that the stranger sitting across from him in the park was naturally part of his jinx as well. 

“What are you staring at?” Unlike the squid wearing his stupidly pristine coat, the man sitting on the bench facing him appeared to be a student: civilian wear and a lanyard still around your neck, like you’d frozen in time these past few months. Glasses rested on your nose, which you pushed up each time they slipped—even if they moved only minutely. 

Perhaps you were nervous, but the caustic indifference in your tone suggested it was an unlikely possibility. 

“Ah, sorry. I have a habit of looking at interesting people,” he laughed your question off, but the lack of information on you, coupled with the fact he didn’t recognise who you were, gave him the answer he needed. You weren’t a part of the original novel. “Uh, it’s a nice park, isn’t it? Lovely statues.”

You glanced at the reader, unimpressed. Just like that handsome bastard, there was that same impassive scowl plastered on your face. But as soon as he’d mentioned the sculptures scattered around this surprisingly lush pocket of Seoul, your face had softened somewhat. 

“Art major?” he probed, for there was something about your gaze that drew words from his mouth. Or perhaps it was just how surreal this scene was: someone enjoying the park like anyone before the paid service began, just some guy taking a breather from classes with a thick, bound book beside him. 

A ballpoint pen, rather than a sword or any other weapon. Blue ink, instead of bloody atrament. 

You were a part of this world, yet detached from it all. 

“No, chemistry,” you said. Deadpan, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m specialising in geochemistry. Rocks, soil, minerals. Humans do so underappreciate what goes on beneath their feet.”

Specialising. Present tense. Not specialised. 

Humans: like you were utterly detached from anyone and everyone. 

His breath caught in his throat.

The urging of constellations reminded him of just the situation he was in—about to run out of time in this sub-scenario, where hordes of monsters would soon swarm. Right in this very park. 

“Listen, you’ll need to get out of here soon—there’s going to be swarms of insect-like creatures here in, uh, five minutes give or take. You’ll be in danger if you can’t fight,” he swallowed. A look of disdain flickered in your eyes, and his head throbbed with how much your expressions resembled that sunfish bastard’s. You’re the idiot, your brows indicated, while the set of your mouth held only one question: who said I couldn’t fight? In the same strand of thinking, the sudden curdle of your shoulders—hunched, guarded—seemed to gesture and who are you to tell me that?

‘If only you knew back then.’

In short, you could fight. You could fight, and you were absolutely terrifying to watch. 

“Aegis,” you whispered, and the statues seemed to continue in susurration with you as the air warped in on itself. Dokja was thrown back by the shockwave as the space rippled—all in time for the main guests of the sub-scenario to arrive. 

Insect mutations. 

They crashed right into the distortions. A barrier. You’d set up an impenetrable defence in less time it took for him to draw breath, only for him to keel over behind you instead. Wow. Okay. He could still work with that. 

“What are you—”

“Silence.” It would’ve stung less if you just told him to shut up instead, but from the very get-go you were never particularly nice. Kind? Somewhat, in the sense you’d viewed him as some useless, bumbling fool that would be better off behind the translucent shield you’d conjured. But nice? No, from the very beginning, you were never nice. 

‘Deserved.’

That was fine. Bearable. Still in the realms of believability. 

For Kim Dokja, the shock came after watching your hand raise to your face to slip your glasses off. From the back, he could no longer see the stern expression you no doubt wore. But he wasn’t focused on your face, but rather the warmth of the day instantly seeping from the molecules. 

Time itself froze, and the insects did too. 

No one breathed, and not a singular sound rang out—save something hissing. A tire, perhaps, but nobody was fool enough to simply drive cars during the apocalypse. 

Then came the stirring of your clothes. It was a breeze only you felt, rippling and undulating until your hair moved too. Except it wasn’t the wind that hissed, nor was it the wind that wafted the coils. No, they twisted into thicker, scaly locks—snake-like, except these were snakes suddenly attached to your head. It was no longer a simile, nor was it a metaphor. 

You had fucking snakes in your hair. 

His breathing was shallow; in the sudden frigid climate, those puffs crystallised and condensed in small white clouds. 

And what of those insects?

His eyes flicked back to the ground shakily, to where the arthropods lay crumbling. Statues, like the ones he’d complimented brief minutes ago. Pearlescent marble—no, stone. Your glasses were still grasped tight in your hand, and he knew if you turned to meet his wide-eyed stare he’d be next. But, alas—

“Who… are you?” 

‘And this is how Kim Dokja put his foot in his mouth and demonstrated his exceptionally poor luck.’

< Observation log, section 2 > (Relative Earth time 24/◼◼/20◼◼)TRANSCRIPT OF RECORDING

‘Rule number two: do not stare into the eyes of a gorgon. Don’t even look, except for when there are protective measures in place. Case one: a blindfold. Case two: glasses, which he literally wears every minute of the day save for when he’s sleeping. Dokja, do not sneak up on the man when he’s sleeping.’

‘Dokja, you suck.’

It wasn’t often you let down your guard, with writhing, clawing humans nonetheless. Pointing fingers to find the monsters under their beds and threatening their cities—when in fact it was their bellicose faults that doomed them. A self-made end, a fitting conclusion for the snake that bites its own tail. If you had ever been human once, these people shared more blood with the beasts than they thought. 

Point was: you didn’t particularly care for those who appeared to be like you. Bodies, soft and squishy from a life coddled in cities; smiles duplicitous and more monstrous than any snarl; and their thoughts, often more heinous than any demon. And despite their sins, they’d meander in life wrapped in the bliss of self-ignorance. Dead in their varying morals like shrouds of far-too different cloths. 

In this, no human was the same. This was the philosophy that alienated yourself from your sisters. 

This was also the philosophy that landed you in a warm, damp place—completely dark with something poking at your cheeks. Correction—even through the thin membrane and slightly thicker skin that covered your eyes, there appeared to be a dim redness seeping into the edges of blackness. It seemed your blood vessels were alit by some foolish beastling. Almost like the golden chariot was prancing afore your eyes, except only Aeos of the Dawn was trotting along your lash line with a proud toss of his shrunken head. 

Your fingers twitched inside your sleeping bag, but you forced a deep breath in before you could hear any hissing. 

Actually, you knew exactly who was prodding at your cheek with a frigid index finger; the faint brush of his scent gave him away almost instantaneously. 

“Kim Dokja. Are you an idiot?” you ground out, eyes still tightly shut to avoid turning this fool to stone. “I’ve already agreed to travelling with your circus, so I’d prefer you refrain from getting petrified.”

“You really do sound like him when you’re irritated,” he let out with a suppressed snort. 

“Aegis,” you whispered, and the impertinent hand ceased its movements. 

The barrier was not, in fact, activated. 

“Gave me a bit of a fright there,” he swallowed. “I just wanted to say, it’s fine if you open your eyes.”

“No,” you deadpanned. Though you couldn’t see the expression, you could feel your facial muscles twitch into an impassive wall. “Don’t involve me with your stupid plans to kill yourself off.”

“That’s not what I mean,” he corrected himself. Were all humans like this when you lived as one? “It just won’t work on me. Me alone, which is why I locked the door so no one could come in.”

“Why?” He was a fool like the rest of them—risking peril for a glimpse of cursed eyes. Like all of man, his hubris rested heavy on his shoulders. 

“I just want to see your smug face without any glasses.”

“You’re looking at it presently,” you argued. Though your ire was evident with your furrowed brows, he didn’t relent. Where was that puny man who’d trembled behind you at the sight of insects? More importantly, how had he changed so quickly?

“With your eyes open,” he clarified. He was more insane than anyone you’d ever met. 

“Does it really make a difference?” you stalled. “How can you be sure you won’t suffer the effects as every other human and beast does?”

“You care about me that much?” 

It was a quiet question. A tentative venture into teasing, yet strangely vulnerable. 

“You worried?” he echoed. It was a weak aegis of his own, already prepared to accept your scoff and firm no. 

“Fool.” Both the skin eyelids and the thin membrane unsheathed haunting irises. You already knew what you’d see in them—a milky sort of quality to their natural colouring, even without the extra membrane. Slit pupils dilated minutely at the sight of him, and his breath caught in his throat as you gazed upwards, unblinking. 

Fool. The word echoed in his mind, an answer to his question but not at the same time. 

I’m not worried. 

Peering, your claws gently grazed his face: almost a kiss, if a kiss left a slight sting behind.

“I’m always worried about you, Kim Dokja,” you murmured, and it was perhaps then that his heartbeat grew erratic. Staring into those pretty eyes of yours with your thumb tenderly swiping across his flushed cheekbones, it was no wonder he could taste his very pulse. “Remember our first meeting?”

“How could I forget?”

A back facing his hunched form, more dependable than the shield spreading and curling beneath your mighty palms. Snakes coiling down your back, but there was nothing scary about how they swayed like ribbons in the sunset. And finally those eyes, directly protecting him from the swarms of insects. 

No, perhaps it was then when the thrum of the organ grew somewhat more rapid. 

‘Glad you realised.’

< Observation log, section 3 > (Relative Earth time 03/◼◼/20◼◼)TRANSCRIPTION OF RECORDING

‘Rule number three: do not feed the snakes. Do not feed the snakes, Dokja. DO NOT FEED THE GODDAMN SNAKES.’

“Is Kim Dokja a masochist?”

The question, like most questions, came out of the blue. Such an innocuous, casual tone veiled your usual clipped syllables that Han Sooyoung found herself seriously internalising your words, before—

“What— koff— huh?” she spluttered against the sudden taste of her lemon candy, expression turning troubled, then incredulous. 

“Does he take pleasure in torturing himself?” you clarified, as though it were a matter of comprehension rather than tact. 

‘I knew what a masochist was! Why would he ask that?’

“If it’s Dokja, probably,” she coughed finally. Honestly, she’d pondered this very question herself—staring deadpan at the numerous deaths he’d experienced by his own plans. “Uh, just so we’re clear, why do you ask?”

“Is it normal to try to feed my snakes?” Definitely not.

“That… idiot did what?” she stared at the resident gorgon with quite the perplexed expression, but soon regained her composure. “No, not particularly. Are they… venomous?”

“Yes. Very much so. Please tell him to quit.”

Yet, despite all the half-hearted chidings of you and Sooyoung alike, your little snakes were beginning to grow fat and affectionate towards the man. You could feel something fundamental begin to shift, and it wasn’t a particularly pleasant feeling. 

< Observation log, section 4 > (Relative Earth time 14/◼◼/20◼◼)TRANSCRIPTION OF RECORDING

‘Rule number four: gorgon venom should not be ingested. If you are Kim Dokja, this applies perhaps most poignantly to you. You may be immune to its effects for whatever reason, but the venom is a nightmare to get out of clothing. Thanks.’

“An experiment?” 

Kim Dokja’s face didn’t change from his usual, vaguely blurred visage; but it wasn’t like snakes had particularly good eyesight regardless. “Yes. Would you be up for it?”

You’d agreed on a whim. Why the experiment was to take place in a closed room, you didn’t particularly know. Maybe humans encountering an apocalypse had special customs to adhere to. “I am familiar with experimental protocol in laboratories and practicals.”

“Would you like to help me upgrade my poison-immunity skill?”

You’d initially refused outright—struck dumb at how recklessly he treated his life. Every time you thought he was a fool, he proved himself even more foolish—a crazed endeavour if you ever saw it. 

Gorgon poison. Released in more diluted doses from the snakes on you, concentrated particularly in the bone-white fangs in your mouth. Like a vampire, Yoo Sangah had excitedly noted: much too excitedly for your liking. 

Bite me, he asked you. 

A pale wrist was held out cautiously in front of him. The air was no longer mere air, but an ancient altar dedicated to this sacrifice. Thus, you were the priest for this rite once more, but this time the ram carried the bronze knife itself. 

He’s an idiot, you seethed, yet you were too. 

For you suggested a less painful way of transferring venom, but he agreed. For you gently clasped his chin with razor sharp talons skimming the dermis of his throat, but he melted pliantly in your hands. For you leaned in with softened eyes, but his own simply fluttered shut in anticipation. 

You surged, pressing him against the cold cement of the wall. Air was robbed from his lungs as he gasped, but rather than pulling back his warm, human hands merely wrapped around your nape to meld your body against his. 

Why did his hands shake so? Was this not just an experimental procedure dedicated to strengthening a human? 

Despite your analytical mind, your eyes closed too—both membrane and skin—and you savoured the lingering taste of the meaty dinner he’d eaten, and the underlying flavour of him. Hot blood pumped beneath his fragile oral mucosa; your greedy, long tongue prodded his own to find just where his pulse thrummed the strongest. 

Ah, fuck, he thought dumbly; sloppily making out with you in a forgotten room was not how he’d envisioned this night, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

Even as he winced with sharp pain when your fangs cut his lips, he couldn’t pull back—objective achieved but long forgotten. Those pesky, wandering hands of his clung onto your body when his head canted: deepening the kiss rather than wrapping up his poison exposure. 

Iron tainted his mouth. Dripping past the seams of desperate lips was the crimson mixture of blood and venom, dripping onto his sweater and corroding the very threads—yet Kim Dokja both did not notice and did not particularly care. 

But all good things came to an end. The two of you were met with an extremely exasperated Han Sooyoung at the door as she gave you a look, one that implied I expected better from you. For Dokja, the reserved expression was I expected this, to be honest. 

‘PDA is not appreciated during the apocalypse. Take that shit elsewhere.’

‘Thus, these reports can be summarily concluded in two points of advice: 

1. Unless you are Kim Dokja, do not attempt any of these activities with a gorgon. 

2. Simply don’t do what Kim Dokja does.’

[ronearoundblindly]

I am sorry but I'm going to need a Ransom story with this prompt. It can be RoaR or a one-off, he can love it or hate it in this space, he can see it over Reader's shoulder on the computer screen, your choice!

o.0 oh boi oh boi oh boi! Fall Vibes but it's gonna be my summer challenge submission to @the-slumberparty's Sundae Bar, featuring the flavors Cookies and Cream (soulmates) and Rocky Road (rags to riches) with the topping Oreos (marriage of convenience (reluctantly)). Also my second entry for @stargazingfangirl18's Birthday Bonenanza, featuring a babe in love and cranky about it + "can you just...hold me please?"

For Show Ransom Drysdale x poor!soulmate!reader

Summary: Ransom hates that you--his soulmate and wife--are nothing like him.

Warnings for smut and Ran's a**hole brain (rude, nasty thoughts that he barely even believes). Classic Lexi--this is cheeky, y'all, but you know it's because I can't help myself... MINORS DNI. Find all-age friendly fic on my Light Masterlist. WC 2.1k

Ran didn’t believe in love to start, but this is fucking ridiculous. Opposites attract? Get wrecked, asshole. He’s keeping opposites on the other side of the house. It’s not far enough.

It’s standard practice for the confirmation of matching soulmarks to act as a de facto marriage contract—common law, if you like,—and Ransom Drysdale fought tooth and nail to make you prove you had his name on you. He needed to see it with his own eyes or fuck that shit.

His is obvious; he can show it off. In fact, Ran is surprised by how long it took you to come forward, considering his family and status, considering his lifestyle of being very visible.

But no, he had to wait for a fucking database to pop out record of his match from your healthcare provider, and he had wait for that because the government knew about your health…because they know such things…about people who need their fucking money. The registration of soulmarks puts the financial responsibility on the soulmate if they end up having the means.

Now Ran is responsible for you, a woman he made lower the front of her panties in open court to reveal his goddamn name in his own goddamn handwriting imprinted right above her goddamn cunt, and suddenly it became his cunt, his problem, his responsibility.

You’re not even fun. You had no money and didn’t care to have any, so you moved your few, ratty belongings into his home, replacing nothing, offering nothing in return for his—well, in return for every fucking thing he has now being yours, too. It’s so fucked.

You don’t want to show off, and he has no intention of showing you off. He can’t be seen with you, not without the proper clothes or jewelry, and you refused to get them. Instead, Ransom leaves you alone in the house, doing whatever he wants, whenever he wants, as always. He won’t talk to you because he just gets furious every time. He’s not going to have deep conversations about the state of the world, though he might have one social justice issue he can fight for: the mother-fucking law that made you his wife without question.

Ran slams the kitchen cabinet storing all-white, matching stoneware mugs when he notices what’s missing: your single, sad, flea market mug. It’s clay so it always looks dirty, and he hates it.

He lightly punches his own neck in irritation.

He didn’t stand a chance fighting the marriage, not with your name in deep, port red letters creeping up his throat, higher than any turtleneck he’s ever owned. Coupled with his legal name resting snuggly beneath your pubes, it was obviously, technically accurate that you’re soulmates. When was the last time someone challenged that system, he thinks. That might be a better use of his money than—

Where are you anyway?

For all his annoyance, he hasn’t set eyes on you for days.

His house is large enough (and he spends so much time anywhere else) that you have your own room, which you didn’t question, and the kitchen is easy enough to share when one of you eats out with other people (as he does two to three times a day). You get the slightly bigger and more formal living room while Ran gets the den with the big TV. Really it’s been the perfect system for almost forgetting you exist.

He pours tea into his clean, white mug and leaves said big TV fairly loud on some program he wasn’t paying attention to, leaning over the granite countertop to see if he can spot you from this angle.

No luck.

He steps closer, sipping.

A little closer, more sipping, a purposeful smack of his lips to grab your attention if you are just around the corner.

There are two openings, both far larger than doorways, to the living room, each through the central hall. When he doesn’t immediately see you, he steps to the farther opening. What the—

What’d you do to his couch?

Is that every single pillow and blanket from your side of the house?

Did Yankee Candle Company throw up in here?

What, the fucking fireplace wasn’t enough ambiance for you? You had to make some sort of nest with his stuff? And there’s that ugly-ass mug, no coaster, on his super-expensive, reclaimed hardwood coffee table.

A pillow shifts.

No, not a pillow; it’s your back, and when you shift again, Ran sees one of the plush throw blankets slink farther down your bare skin. It’s the largest swath of your body he’s ever seen.

You lay with your arms folded, peering out the windows behind the couch, and you still haven’t fucking noticed him.

He huffs before realizing he isn’t listening to the faint TV anymore, but when he ticks his head, he sees your TV isn’t on either.

“”I think of nothing but you as I fall asleep at night”—” Ran hears a woman’s voice fake a deeper tone before switching to normal “—Javier says, pulling her soft curves into his hard body—”

You sigh dreamily and wiggle on the cushions. The blanket slides over the swell of your ass.

Ran stops moving mid-sip of tea.

“”Please, my darling, let me have you—“ this is fucking terrible, he thinks “—as only a lover can.””

Alright, now Ransom is just sad. You’re naked in his living room, rubbing your thighs together and listening to an erotic novel on your phone.

“Chloe felt his digits dance across her clavicle, his eyes enchanted by her heaving bosom…”

Go out to a club or restaurant with him? No. Wear nice clothes he could buy you? Nope.

“”Javi,” she gasps, distracted by his rough palm groping her breast hungrily, “I can’t believe you want me.””

Ran is going to fucking gag at the whining appall in the narrator’s voice.

Why listen to this awful shit instead of show off him as your husband? From the quick shiver racing down your spine and the curl of your toes where they hang over the cushion’s edge, it’s because you’re fucking horny for it.

Good god, how low are your standards?

He stalks forward, feet hitting the floor hard until he reaches the plush rug.

Startled, you peer over your shoulder at him, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights, and you begin scrambling to recover yourself.

Ran puts his cup down by yours. “Don’t move,” he orders, and to his surprise, you obey, keeping you head turned his direction and sinking back into the pillows.

“”How could you doubt? From the moment I met you, I adored you.””

He swivels to face the same direction as you, reaches out his hand and mime the stroke he’s contemplating tracing over your curves.

“”I’m yours,” Chloe breathes, Javier’s growing member signaling his desire against her silk-covered core.”

Ran finally bends until the tip of his middle finger grazes the inside of your thigh.

As he drags it over one cheek and down the other, you whine and push your ass toward his hand.

That’s…not bad, all things considered. You are his wife, after all, and you clearly want to be fucked. He won’t argue that having some other woman’s name scrawled on him hasn’t limited his game for quite a while. Financially independent or not, when a pussy is presented to him, Ransom will say ‘yes.’

He stops noticing the audio from your phone and just dives in, no sentiments or kind words of his own. He simply unbuckles his belt, pops the button of this jeans, and rips that zipper down before teasing your folds to find enough slick at your entrance to swirl around. He spreads you and your wetness with purpose. Each second that passes drives Ransom a little bit more insane.

Impatient, strung out like a virgin on prom night, he rushes to shove his pants out of the way and kicks one knee up between your legs, his other foot still on the floor. He pumps his fingers inside you until he’s knuckle-deep and nearly dripping, manhandling your hips to the right height to sink his tip into you.

Ran groans at how fucking good you feel. He’s probably just desperate. He’d be excited about any ol’ means to come right now.

He snaps his hips in small thrusts until his whole length glides in and out in seamless stimulation. You’ve buried your face in the pillow, so he can’t hear if you make any noise. He can, however, see your hands scratch at the upholstery and clench into fists. He can see you deepen the arch of your back, angling his dick to fuck just slightly down through your channel. The pressure squeezes the spongy head of his cock like a vice. He’ll never say it out loud, but your pussy is fucking perfect. God fucking dammit.

Ransom relentlessly drives into you, catching the sideview of your breasts bouncing each time his thighs slap yours. He smacks your ass once just to see if it jiggles for him, and that’s when your hand snakes to disappear between your legs. He expects you’re going for your clit which is good because he’s about to get off and get lost, but instead, he feels your soft fingers cup his balls.

He’s so enamored by the sensation that he switches to tiny pulses deep in your cunt while your hand wraps and rolls his sac gently. Twitching and tensing, Ran unabashedly moans until your walls constrict around his length.

He’s got to make you do that again.

Ransom collapses forward to lean over you, his own hand diving to find your clit, resting his palm right over your mound and soulmark. Every inch of his body burns hot with need. He humps wildly, resting his chin over your shoulder.

“”I don’t care how, Javi, just stick it in there. I need you. I need you so badly…””

“Jesus Christ,” Ran growls, “are they still not fucking?”

A giggle bursts from your lips, a sweet, happy sound he’s never heard from you before, and you reach for him. Your palm lands on his soulmark, your fingers curling to scratch the hairs at the nape of his neck, and there’s…there’s��

He can’t comprehend how your body fits his so well. He can’t reconcile this sudden swell of obsession in his gut for you. He’s enveloped in a binary system of souls, gravity tugging at that connection between you.

Ran doesn’t believe in love or destiny. He refuses. He believes in pleasure and perception, in accumulation and ownership.

The only thought left in his static-filled head is mine, mine, mine, mine.

He falls over the edge first, a satisfied shout punctuating each spurt he plants within you, furiously working your messy clit and kneading one breast in his free hand until he feels that squeeze again, and again, and again, dying to a flutter just as your shared cum leaks out around his cock.

By this time, Ran is panting and resting a sizable portion of his weight on you, knees knocked loose in his onslaught, pushing you both flat to the chaise cushion, feet dangling off the end.

You still hold each other’s mark in a comforting palm.

He’s speechless as the room fills with heated love declarations amidst passionate sex and bad dialogue. Ran tries to catch his fucking breath. He’s glad you don’t speak either.

Everything about his life—his past, his present, his future—sits utterly raw in front of him, and he can’t cope.

He makes the mistake of peeling his body off yours, releasing you and dislodging your hand. The cold emptiness which immediately sweeps over him is sickening, and Ran barely waits for you to roll onto your back before he wedges himself between your legs again, instinctually laying on his side, pressing his sweater-clad shoulder against your sopping folds just so he can rest his soulmark right on top of yours.

Euphoria returns to his body and mind, thick like honey and all-consuming.

He doesn’t want to admit it. He doesn’t want to talk about. He doesn’t want to live a moment without you.

Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.

Mercifully, the audio speaks for him.

“”Can you just…hold me please? That was…that was…””

“”So intense,” Javier rumbles, “so beautiful.””

Ransom, the preening trust fund baby, has finally found something all his own, something he doesn’t want to share, something shown only for him.

He refuses, however, to call it ‘love’…

…yet.

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

A/N: I'm fine.

[meanbossart]

Ask compilation: DU drow, Orin, Astarion, lore things and little fun facts.

Trying to make a dent in this dang inbox. As always, thank you so much everyone for your patience and curiosity! Sorry that it is straight up no longer possible for me to reply to everyone, but I will keep doing my best within reason. Enjoy!

Absolutely! I had a lot of requests for bottom Astarion on my patreon which is why I was kind of on a roll there for a minute.

Though, for the record - I am really not very invested in strict bedroom roles at all. Or clear and distinct dominant/submissive dynamics. So please don't overthink it whenever there's a switch, no pun intended.

You wanna know how often they smash? Man, I don't know, I guess fairly often considering their lifestyle post-game (very active, often on the road).

Assuming that everyone agrees that sex doesn't have to involve penetration, I'd say once every other day or less, really depends on the circumstances though. DU drow's libido is much higher than Astarion's, but he's not an animal and can hold off fine. Astarion is likely to be pickier in regards to location and how-recently-have-we-bathed status as well.

I keep meaning to draw him, but I have like... A million things I want to do 😂 so its rough!

BUT you will at least continue to see him in ANE! And I'm sure i'm bound to draw him again in the future.

[MORE UNDER THE CUT]

If you mean in his bhaalist "AU", where he has the red robe and the extra scars, I imagine he would have gotten it through killing Isobel.

I think as a changeling she probably has the ability to just... Transform her hair however she likes at will, right? And based on her attitude plus some lines we get from Sceleritas about her own former-butler, it sounds like she would be really opposed to being serviced in that way, to me at least.

I see her as pretty aggressively independent with the way she operates, which is another factor that sets her apart from DU drow, who really enjoyed lording over the other Bhaalists and making an errand boy out of Sceleritas, to the point where he practically depended on their help to function.

Neither! I wasn't willing to let anyone take either of my eyes in my first playthrough, LOL.

I have since always given the Volo eye to SOMEONE, usually Gale, but I don't consider that canonical. I don't think anyone was desperate enough to let mister frumpy-hat over there ice-pick their eyes out.

He did do them himself. It was a profoundly stupid display he got caught up in because of Gortash. Also, de-handment is kind of a theme in his life, at least inside his head.

I have a comic about it planned for the future ;)

What do you mean, that's canonical to the game and everything! He loves the cuck chair!

He is an angsty 29-year old in denial. Your interpretation is still perfectly accurate.

Hates the guy. Hates when Shadowheart Astarion people joke about him being the Drizzt of his generation. Hates the guy like literally any countercultural weirdo hates Taylor Swift or the Weeknd. If he saw him at the line in the grocery store DU drow would find a way to roll his eyes loudly just so he could notice being an asshole.

Stay tuned, I'm cooking 🧑‍🍳

If you're asking about game strats, badly, LOL. Pretty sure I died twice to her in my first run and it was a rough way of being thrown into "serious" DnD combat.

With the exception of a couple of encounters that just so happened to turn out SURPRISINGLY cinematic, I'm just realizing that I actually don't think too often about how most of the fights went in real-time! I imagine Autie Ethel's in particular wasn't one that DU drow went into of his own accord, probably rather at a companion's insistence. That's as deep as I've thought about that personally.

Now... Back to game strats. I personally try to get a surprise round on her however I can by sneaking and shooting an arrow or AOE in her general location, since she always stands on roughly the same spot while invisible. I have my companions spread about the arena so we can take her clones down as fast as possible, and as soon as I identify who the real Ethel is I just have the strongest martial characters wail on her until she begs to be let go. Hers is one of the few fights that is actually pretty dang easy at this point for me - and I SUCK at this game.

That would certainly take a while! But, Bhaalist DU drow does kind of have an end goal, actually.

That might also turn into a comic eventually, but it would a rough one.

He pretty swiftly disposed of her, DU drow doesn't like being talked down to, which Minthara very promptly does. Him (and I, by extension) had very limited exposure to her and she was just kind of a speck of dust in his story in particular. Though I have since grown to adore her character in my proceeding runs where I do recruit her!

I guess if he got an invitation and it wasn't particularly painful to arrive at the venue, sure! He would specially love to take Astarion to Gale's wedding ceremony and purposely upstage him at every at every opportunity, LOL.

Yes. He got pretty freaky with the pain-priest. This is gonna sound like a lie but I made him get naked for it without even knowing there was a buff to be gained (I didn't get it, unfortunately, I don't remember whether I failed a check or if I had camp clothes toggled on, so it didn't count as being truly nude). I wasn't taking the game very seriously and just doing dumb roleplay things to see what would happen, LOL.

And I consider that canonical. I think DU drow saw the opportunity to show off his physique And had a strange inkling that this was a practice he was... Somehow familiar with.

Imagine my joy when Astarion and Shadowheart start having a back-and-forth about my absurd display. That's when i knew those were my people, to be honest.

[multific]

Obsession

Vincent De Gramont x Reader

Summary: He had one obsession, you.

Vincent liked the finer things in life.

Food, drinks, clothes, cars our houses, it didn't matter.

To him, quality was the most important.

He became so rich that now he was at a point where he didn't even have the time to spend it. 

He was obsessed with fine things. He loved his suits, had a nice collection of only the best.

He was obsessed with cars, old-timers and newer models both parked in his garage. 

Vincent was obsessed with his job, it gave him authority, something he always craved.

But lately, his obsession was you.

You being just a normal woman he saw one day, he was confused as to just why he found you to be so enticing.

There was something about you, something he couldn't quite figure out.

He found it weird how a man of his status found himself completely taken by a simple woman.

He wanted to know everything. He needed to know everything.

And he needed to have you. 

You were quick to learn that Vincent wasn't the sweet Prince type. Oh, far from it actually.

He was dangerous.

The moment you met him you knew this. You felt the hair on the back of your neck stand up as soon as you saw him. 

He was a walking red flag. 

But just why did you not run? Why did you find yourself intrigued by him? Why did you say yes every time he whispered sweet things into your ear? 

And just why did he have to have that sexy accent?!

The man was a walking red flag, yes, but aparently you were colourblind because you ignored it all. 

He was rich, elegant, sexy and dangerous. Truly an awful mix but what could you do?

Your first date was on top of the Eiffel Tower, he rented the entire thing out, just for the two of you.

You tried to figure out if he was romantic or if he just knew how to woo a woman. 

Maybe both.

Because when later that night, he dropped you off at yours, he kissed all the way from your shoulder to your neck, making you see stars as he whispered 'You are mine' in the most possessive and sexy way a man could.

Your insides were screaming at you, both from fear and arousal.

Why did he have to be so handsome on top of it all?

It would have been so much easier if he just rude but no, of course not, he had to be a gentleman.

It wasn't until a couple of months of dating that you saw his scary side.

One late afternoon, you went to his office while he was on the phone, he failed to notice you as he yelled into the phone the scariest things one could hear.

Promises of torture and a slow death, his gaze and body language said it all, he wasn't lying.

When he was done, due to anger he smashed the phone to the ground and this is when he noticed you as you jumped a little. 

Your eyes locked with his as he cursed at himself in French.

You long forgot why you were in there in the first place.

"I have never seen you so angry, Vincent."

"Mon Amour, I'm so so sorry that you had to see me like that. I prom-"

"Do it again." you said cutting him off as he suddenly froze. 

He didn't expect for you to say that, you didn't expect to say that to be fair. He thought you would run and hide or yell at him to never ever look for you.

But you didn’t.

"Something about the anger, you are always so collected and calm for most of the time. Even when you saw the guy flirting with me at the bar, you have never even raised your voice."

"Did you find it... exciting?"

"Yes." your answer was simple and immediate. “Do it again, Vincent.”

“Mon Amour,” He smirked, he knew you would be perfect.

Vincent truly found his other half in you. His obsession turned into love but his possessive tendencies never faltered. 

Even if you were only a simple woman with a boring job, you had no idea of the power you held in your hands, you had the great Marquis wrapped all around your little finger.

And on the other hand, you had the most expensive diamond wrapped around your ring finger.

Taglist: @fleursirvart @greenarrowhead @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo​ @destynelseclipsa @spilledinkindumpster @capsiclesdoll @puknow @alwayshave-faith @alex12948 @lxdyred  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek @praline357 @trshngyn @avengers-r-us @violet-19999 @top1bbgloak   @manduse   @jacalineiscomingforyou  @mandoloriancookie @noname2246

@l4venderia

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS  

[charlesslut16]

-En couple-

summary : you and charles were secretly dating and charles told the world about you two...

PAIRING : charles leclerc x fem!reader

WARNINGS : badly translated french

note : just to say this here : i am happy for charles and alexandra. i just did it because it got the idea for this imagine.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Charles and you were in a secret relationship. No one knew, except for Arthur, Carlos, Lorenzo and Andrea. You both tried hiding it from them, but Arthur, Carlos and Lorenzo walked in on you two while you were cuddling in his driver's room.

Andrea and charles were almost every day together, so it was bound to happen that he would find out. He had three weeks off from racing and then it happened. You had visited him in his home for, said goodbye to him and walked out of his house on the street. 

But unfortunately, Charles and Andrea had agreed to meet up to go jogging. As always, Andrea came early and came when you left the house. Charles also came to the door to bring you something you forgot. As Andrea saw you both, he knew exactly what was going on.

But now you were standing next to Andrea while Charles was making an interview with gala for APM Monaco. He was asked questions of his personal and racing life.

Charles started with "Charles Leclerc." and the interview began.

"Date et lieu de naissance?" Date and place of birth.

"16 octobre 1997 à Monaco"

"statut?" status?

"En couple" in a relationship.

There it was. In a Relationship. You were not secret anymore, charles published your relationship to the world. You look at charles and then back to Andrea, who seemed to have the same facial expression as you did.

Not only that, but you couldn't even hear the other questions and answered, as you were stuck with his answer from before. In a relationship. Charles was always so careful with what he said on the social media. 

You and Andrea waited for charles to finish his interview. He came to you guys, gave Andrea a fist bump and gave you a kiss on your forehead, while he intertwined his hand with yours. You three walked back to his motor home.

While you walked to his motor home, Andrew and you looked at each other with confusion. Charles didn't notice, he signed photos and gave autographs, all while having a big smile on his face.

"Charles?" 

"Yes baby? "

"In the interview, you said that you were taken, but I thought you didn't want the world to know about us. " You answered him, not knowing if what you said was the right thing to say.

"I wanted it to make it public because I hate hiding our relationship. You know we are not good at that. Is it okay that I said it?" He rambled, chuckling but stopping, as he saw your unsure face. 

"It's okay, I was just surprised. But next time you drop something about us, let me know first, okay?" 

Charles nodded and gave you another kiss on your forehead. Then coming to you era whispering an 'I love you, mon amour'. Charles said goodbye to Andrea and took your hand again.

You let the day go on, talking to other people in the motor home and talking with Isa about something. Isa and you always talked about the stupidest things, when you were alone.

Before charles told the world that you were together, you could walk around the paddock without anybody asking who you were or why you were there, but now every fan asked you if you were the girlfriend of Charles Leclerc. 

In the early evening, charles and you bid farewell and went to your apartment to chill and releax your evening. You walked along the paddock, while fans asked you questions, which you didn't aswer.

 You just wanted away. Disappear. The questions were overwhelming you to the point where you wanted to cry, but charles was there to help you. You know that the fans wanted to know more about your relationship, but you thought it was too early.

Charles and you went into your apartment. You went into the shower first because charles told you that he needed to post something on his insta, so you agreed to go first. 

Charles went after you while you laid on your bed. While you were on the bed, you were scrolling through Insta, liking charles post and scrolling through his comments.

In the comments, there were many question about 'Who is that, Charles?' 'Where/When did you meet each other' or 'How long have you been together for'.

You were mid through the comments, until you felt a hand, charles hand to be precise, on your waist. You hadn't heard him, come out of the bathroom nor coming in to the room, sliding next to you.

"Qu'est-ce que tu fais, mon beau tournesol?" Charles asked you, pulling you against his body and cuddling his head in the crook of your neck. What are you doing, my beautiful sunflower?

You look your phone, tuned around in charles arms, whispered a quick 'nothing' and nuzzled yourself into his warm embrace. You were safe and sound in his arms. He shook his head, while he let out a quick chuckle, at your answer and giving you a kiss on your temple.

He turned around, with you in his embrace, turning the lamp on your nightstand off and now laying on his back, so you could put your head on his chest and cuddle him.

"Je t’aime, mon beau tournesol." I love you, my beautiful sunflower.

"Je t'aime." I love you.

[kurosaaki]

what is happening in Valencia (Spain)?

More than 200 people have died and 2000 people are missing since the catastrophe that happened in Valencia, Spain, a couple days ago.

Valencia is one of the most popular and beautiful regions in Spain, often visited by lots of international — and national — tourists to have a great time in the summer.

Meteorologists said a year’s worth of rain had fallen in just eight hours in parts of Valencia — specially, in small towns — this Tuesday. In Spain, this phenomenon is called “Dana”, which is basically a “cold drop”, which causes saturated air to rise rapidly, leading to heavy rain, thunderstorms and tornadoes to happen.

For reference to americans: hurricane milton caused 27 dead, these massive storms in valencia caused more than 90 deaths in a region that is much, much smaller... the weather services warned about the danger, and political authorities still did nothing to send people home from their jobs. the civil alarms reached our phones at 8pm, when many were already trapped in cars, basements, malls, factories. the loss, especially human loss, is incalculable (from: @/woundposting on tumblr)

People who worked overnight for big companies were not even able to go back to their homes and ensure their safety — some of them, lots of them, even lost their lives in that same night. It has been three days now and there are still more reports of disappearances and deaths, and the government is NOT acting like they should. This is a tragedy, which could have been avoided if they only did one thing right, and no one is taking responsability — not the government, not the big companies who didn’t let their workers go home, no one.

It is always the working class people who help the working class people.

Since this is a situation that has took the whole country by surprise and horror, I will put more info under the cut if you want to know more, and if you want to donate to some gofundme’s.

Horta Sud is a county in Valencia that has been the most affected by the floodings. People are leaving their houses because they're scared of the infrastructure getting damaged and even walking by foot to Valencia capital to get food.

Letur (Albacete) is a town that has been destroyed by the floods. You can help rebuild it by donating to this gofundme that's directly coordinated with the town hall.

Hambre Cero is a Spanish food bank non-profit that was founded after the earthquakes in Indonesia. They're currently active in Palestine and Lebanon but they'll also be giving food to those who need it in Spain.

El Refugio de María a dog shelter in Sueca (Valencia), is completely flooded, leaving the dogs visibly distressed and without a proper place to sleep. You can donate to their PayPal: maria.g.may@gmail.com

Protectora San Antón is a shelter for cats and dogs in Jerez de la Frontera. It's flooded and the animals don't have a comfortable place to sleep in. If you live in Spain you can bizum them @ 635011715. If not, PayPal protectorasananton@hotmail.com

Help Sara and her family rebuild their home in Valencia:

there are many more links in twitter. the ones i have put here in this are from a thread posted by @ diangneylo. you can find the link to the thread here, with many more links: https://x.com/diangneylo/status/1851960706536534104?s=46&t=xf1Z6STThFP3w_mF4ugamA

[steddietogo]

Steddie grammys au part 2

Part 1

------

Steve is texting Eddie Munson via the private message function on instagram. Because that's just the kinda shit that happens to him now. One day he's at the Grammys doing his job and the next, the lead guitarist/lyricist of a famous rock band is following his instagram account (Dustin and Robin had lost their collective minds) which is full of dorky pictures of him with a group of high schoolers, his cat and Robin. And that one picture of Robin and him at pride, posing with a lesbian and pansexual pride flag respectively.

His follower count has also gone up by couple extra thousands and there are a couple DMs from people he's never heard of, saying some unsavoury things about him. It's all very intense and dramatic. Needless to say, his account is private now.

The thing is, Steve has been flirted with during interviews before, he's a good looking guy and he knows it. It's just never happened with an international rockstar before—then immediately went viral for the entire world to see.

Didn't peg you as a cat person Stevie

Then there is the other thing. Eddie Munson flirting with him in his DMs. Which kinda sorta makes him forget how to be a person. Steve Harrington is nothing if not a people person, always knows the right thing to say. But with Eddie he barely just manages, no sign of the alleged lover boy he had been in his high school years. Eighteen year old Steve would cry if he could see the bland ass conversation he's having about his cat of all things.

I'm not

He just barged into my house one day and refused to leave

Eddie is hot, and rich and famous. Did he mention hot, because he is. Painfully so. Steve will never forget his all black ensemble at the Grammys where he had been standing a foot away from Steve in his bejewelled suit jacket with nothing underneath it.

Point is, Eddie is intimidating. He seems so far away with his rockstar status and the hoards of fans worshipping him like he's their god. What could Eddie Munson possibly want from Steve Harrington?

Would you like to get dinner sometime?

Eddie's latest text is staring up at him like its going to jump out of his phone and attack him. Its too late to ditch and run, Eddie knows Steve has seen it so he needs to come up with a response. Soon. So Steve does the only reasonable thing and barges into Robin's room at ass o'clock in the morning.

"Say yes Dingus!" Robin says, after kicking him in the shin for waking her up.

"But—" she silences him with another well placed kick.

"Listen, no one who just wants to bang you asks you about the shitty retail job you had in high school, Steven. Even if he only wants to sleep with you, you're gonna get a fun night out of it and like bragging rights or something," He supposes she’s right. Eddie did seem very interested in Steve’s personal life. He really did hope it is a date though. If only he has the balls to actually ask him.

"I'd be so jealous of you right now if I liked men, so get out of your head and go have some fun. Now get the fuck out and let me sleep,"

------

Eddie picks an upscale rooftop bar with private seating and a breathtaking view. He's there sitting at the booth half an hour before their scheduled meet up time out of nerves.

Eddie sometimes hates that his public image takes precedence when people meet him. The truth is that he is a little bit of a loner. Never got the point of physical intimacy without a connection no matter how much people tend to think he's the type of person to have a different person warming his bed each night.

It makes dating so hard when the perception of Eddie the rockstar doesn't line up with who Eddie the person really is. Eddie rarely even takes the first step anymore. It took the combined ragging of his entire band for him to even gather the courage to message Steve.

"Hey," a voice greets him from behind.

Steve is here. And Steve is an enigma. An ex high school jock who used to babysit a bunch of middle schoolers. He's so full of delicious contradictions and dry humor and it's impossible not to like him the more he learns about him.

But there’s still the question of what Steve expects of him that Eddie dreads a little. Above all, Eddie just wants Steve to like Eddie the person so badly.

------

“A fire extinguisher,” Eddie’s eyebrows are somewhere up in his bangs.

“Yep,”

“Against an armed robber,”

“I swear I had grey hairs at seventeen because of those kids,” Steve knows how sappy and fond his voice sounds when he talks about the kids. It’s never been something he could help.

The night’s been going a lot better that Steve had expected. Eddie is funny, and dramatic and it’s hard not to feel giddy from the attention he utterly devotes to Steve. They have a nice dinner, and exchange stores over drinks and it’s feels like a real date. Steve can practically hear Robin in his head telling him to stop being such a dingus and overthinking everything.

They go quite for a second, Eddie suspiciously focused on his drink when Steve feels his boot nudge against his shoe. Steve nudges back and soon instigates a game of footsie neither of them acknowledge above the table. It ends with Eddie’s foot trapped between Steve’s ankles and a faint rise of colour in his cheeks as he takes a comically large gulp from his drink. It’s just adorable.

"Can I kiss you?" The words are out of Steve’s mouth before he even realises it. Before he could beat himself up about it, Eddie turns a slightly worrying shade of crimson but he's nodding and thats all Steve needs before he is leaning over the table.

It's nice, it's really fucking sweet and not at all how he had expected Eddie to kiss, but Steve is quickly learning that nothing about Eddie is what it seems like. The kiss is all soft presses of their lips, wet, languid slides of tongue at the seams of his mouth. Steve feels a little dizzy when he pulls away and drops back into his seat, happy grins mirrored in both their faces.

———

Its a couple months after that when Eddie starts trending again. He posts a picture taken by Gareth, post show as he lays on top of Steve on the couch. Steve has his arms around him, lips pressed to his gross, sweaty hair.

Caption says: Happy birthday to my sweetheart <3

———