Tumgik
#underwing challenge
kulapti · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
A penny for your thoughts... pencil & krita, Dec 2022 &Jan 2023.
1K notes · View notes
felawnie · 1 year
Text
@ageblue​ Ok, so maybe it’s time for an update on my Why AM I Doing This world aka Hell World aka A Tense And Quiet Place With No Peace. Am I overdramatic? Yes. Anyway.
Tumblr media
GUESS WHO SPAWNED RIGHT NEXT TO ME AND SCARED ME SO BAD I SAT, STARING AT THE SCREEN, HANDS ON MY CHEST LIKE A SHOCKED OLD LADY???????? I, uh, then got very mad and killed both him and the llamas. About a day later I realized I could have kept the llamas for leather. Alas! Oh well. He’ll come back. He always comes back...
Tumblr media
Lighting glitch? In MY hovel? It’s more likely than you think!
Tumblr media
Why do I have ladders in the previous image? Cause I’m digging a hole to hell. I need diamonds...and iron...and obsidian...and an ancient city(noooooooo)
Tumblr media
Also decided I needed a proper tree farm and how do you make a proper tree farm with oak? You put a roof on those fuckers so they stop DOING THIS. Felt like every tree that grew while I was trying to slap a roof on them was giant!! GET SHORTENED, BASTARDS
Tumblr media
Diamonds!! I got SEVEN!! So three of that has to go to a pick, obviously, but what should I do with the other 4.....
Tumblr media
Ngl, I crept up there, terrified with every step, stood in the tunnel for like 30 seconds, then went NAH and booked it. But hey, at the bottom of this shaft(where i came in while mining in a very scared and slow way) we had lava so! Diamonds and obsidian! You know what would be awesome? A zombie dungeon. *sigh* Of all the things a world would make me long for...
Tumblr media
He sleebing on the slab. I guess he was trying to swoop and just, uh, got stuck. I got my first wing membrane from him when he finally woke up! Also why is there a slab? Did I not finish the roof? No, I did. I just MADE IT ONE BLOCK SHOTER THAN INTENDED. You know an 18x18 square contains 324 blocks? Congrats, now you do. I want my birch trees back.
Tumblr media
Haven’t accomplished much but I got more stuff!
7 notes · View notes
bobzora · 2 years
Text
me and my brother playing p4a in the optimal way (not learning any combos, not knowing how fighting games work, just picking a different character each time and fucking around til one of us finds out)
4 notes · View notes
Text
The study itself is titled, “Long-Term Regret and Satisfaction With Decision Following Gender-Affirming Mastectomy,” and sought to study the rate of regret and satisfaction after 2 years or more following gender affirming top surgery. The study’s results were stunning - in 139 surgery patients, the median regret score was 0/100 and the median satisfaction score was 5/5 with similar means as well. In other words… regret was virtually nonexistent in the study among post-op transgender people. In fact, the regret was so low that many statistical techniques would not even work due to the uniformity of the numbers: In this cross-sectional survey study of participants who underwent gender-affirming mastectomy 2.0 to 23.6 years ago, respondents had a high level of satisfaction with their decision and low rates of decisional regret. The median Satisfaction With Decision score was 5 on a 5-point scale, and the median decisional regret score was 0 on a 100-point scale. This extremely low level of regret and dissatisfaction and lack of variance in scores impeded the ability to determine meaningful associations among these results, clinical outcomes, and demographic information. The numbers are in line with many other studies on satisfaction among transgender people. Detransition rates, for instance, have been pegged at somewhere between 1-3%, with transgender youth seeing very low detransition rates. Surgery regret is in line with at least 27 other studies that show a pooled regret rate of around 1% - compare this to regret rates from things like knee surgery, which can be as high as 30%. Gender affirming care appears to be extremely well tolerated with very low instances of regret when compared to other medically necessary care.
[...]
The intense conservative backlash, to the point of disputing reputable scientific journals, likely stems from the fact that reduced regret rates weaken a central narrative these figures have championed in legal and legislative spaces. Over the past three years, anti-trans entities have showcased political detransitioners, reminiscent of the ex-gay campaigns from the 1990s and 2000s, to argue that regrets over gender transition and detransition are widespread. Some have even asserted detransition rates of up to 80%, a claim that has been broadly debunked. Yet, research consistently struggles to find substantial evidence supporting this narrative. The rarity of detransition and regret is underscored by Florida's inability to enlist a single resident to bear witness against a lawsuit challenging the state's ban on gender-affirming care.
19K notes · View notes
Text
Custom Bra PiX for those who like FAT CHIX #marwamannaa #style #fashion #egypt. If you can't erase what you did and won't admit to it neither can\will we 🥰 2ooly lel zeboon el gedid 3al 7ari2a elly gambo ..gamb el shoghl lazem testafsar 😂🤣
Good luck catching the full collection 🥵😩🥱
1 note · View note
r0ckyreck · 1 year
Text
Forgot to post this one yesterday (day 27)
Tumblr media
0 notes
iwanthermidnightz · 9 months
Text
Tumblr media
When I think back on the Speak Now album, I get a lump in my throat. I have a feeling it will always be that way, because this period of time was so vibrantly aglow with the last light of the setting sun of my childhood. I made this album, completely self-written, between the ages of 18 and 20. I've spoken about how I feel like those ages are the most emotionally turbulent ones in a persons life. Maybe when I say that, I'm really just talking about myself.
I think they might just be the most idealistic, hopeful years too. At this point in my life, I had released my second album, Fearless. It became the breakthrough moment I'd always dreamt of, one that catapulted my career to new realms of success. It had brought with it a tidal wave of pressures and pitfalls and growing pains. All the while, I was encountering the milestones and checkpoints of normal teenage growth. I had cataclysmic crushes and brushes with heartache. I moved out of my parents' house and set my bags down in a new apartment. I hung photos on my own walls and decorated the space where I would sob and cackle and shatter and dream. Sometimes I felt like a grown up, but a lot of the time I just wanted to time travel back to my childhood bed, where my mom would read stories to me until I fell asleep.
In my darker moments, I was tormented by the doubt that swirled loudly around my ascent and my merits as an artist. I was trying to create a follow up to the most awarded country album in history, while staring directly into the face of intense criticism. I had been widely and publicly slammed for my singing voice and was first encountering the infuriating question that is unfortunately still lobbed at me to this day: does she really write her songs? Spoiler alert: I really, really do.
In the years since, I've developed a thicker skin about public criticism and the cynicism with which some people approach the music I make. At that time, it leveled me. I had these voices in my head telling me that I had the perfect chance and I blew it. I hadn’t been good enough. I had given it all I had and been found wanting.
I wanted to get better, to challenge myself, and to build on my skills as a writer, an artist, and a performer. I didn't want to just be handed respect and acceptance in my field. I wanted to earn it. To try and confront these demons, I underwent extensive vocal training and made a decision that would completely define this album: I decided I would write it entirely on my own. I figured, they couldn't give all the credit to my cowriters if there weren't any. But that posed a new challenge: It really had to be good. If it wasn't, I would be proving my critics right.
I had no idea how much this pain would shape me. That this was the beginning of my series of creative choices made by reacting to setbacks with defiance. That my stubbornness in the face of doubters and dissenters would become my coping mechanism through my entire career from that point forward. This exact pattern of enacting my own form of rebellion when I feel broken is exactly why you're reading these very words, and I'm re-releasing this album now.
I went through my first worldwide scandal (the mic grab seen around the world). I experienced the weirdness of trying to get to know a boy while a swarm of paparazzi surrounds the car. Media contacting my publicist for an official statement on why two teenagers broke up. These are weird experiences to have at any age, but even more surreal when you're 19.
I had the nagging sense that in the most intense moments of my life, I had frozen. I had said nothing publicly. I still don't know if it was out of instinct, not wanting to seem impolite, or just overwhelming fear. But I made sure to say it all in these songs. I decided to call the album Speak Now. It was a play on the speak now or forever hold your peace' moment in weddings, but for me it symbolized a chance to respond to the chatter and commentary around my own life.
Some of these emotional revelations were surprising to people. Some expected anger and instead got compassion and empathy with 'Innocent'. Some expected a kiss-off breakup song but instead got a hand-on-heart apology, 'Back to December. It was an album that was the most precious to me because of its vast extremes. It was unfiltered and potent. In my mind, the saddest song I've ever written is 'Last Kiss'. My most scathing is 'Dear John' and my most wistfully romantic is 'Enchanted'.
I'll be forever proud of setting a goal and seeing it through. I'lI always feel shivers all over when I remember singing 'Long Live' to close the show every night on tour. The outstretched hands of those bright and beautiful faces of the fans. Their support was like an open palm that reached out and helped me up off the ground when others were, frankly, mean.
These days I make my choices for those people, the ones who thought I had been good enough all along. I try to speak my mind when I feel strongly, in the moment I feel it. I'm still idealistic and earnest about the music I make, but I'm less crushed when people mock me for it. I know now that one of the bravest things a person can do is create something with unblinking sincerity, to put it all on the line. I still sometimes wish I was a little kid again in a tiny bed, before I ever grew up.
I always looked at this album as my album, and the lump in my throat expands to a quivering voice as I say this. Thanks to you, dear reader, it finally will be.
I consider this music to be, along with your faith in me, the best thing that's ever been mine.
Yours,
Taylor
4K notes · View notes
itsbuckytm · 4 months
Text
Cherry Red / Coriolanus Snow
Tumblr media
summary : Snow had always harbored a liking for you, and your awareness of the platonic relationship with Sejanus only fueled his obsession, eventually culminating in decisions like appointing you as the First Lady of Panem. Just two pretty bestfriends both in awe by your beauty.
I apologize for any grammar errors as English is not my first language. Additionally, please refrain from copying my work without proper credit, as it may result in being flagged. Thank you!
How does one begin to describe this innocent youth, who simply wished for Panem to thrive in tranquility? Fate thrust him into the shadows of the reaping ceremony or the role of a mentor due to his father's actions. Despite being fully aware that survival in the Games was improbable, he, like many of his peers, managed to mask his fear, a skill he lacked. It was on that fateful day that he first laid eyes on you. 
You served as his mentor, a role you assumed without the same coercion he experienced. Unlike him, you had the choice to either be a mentor or a regular student at the Academy. Yet, recognizing that being among the select few who would secure a favorable position in the university and potentially pave the way for a brighter future for your family, you saw it as the least profitable option you could contribute. Even if it meant overseeing the fate of a stranger, your assigned tribute, in a perilous game of cat and mouse. 
During the inaugural week of the Games, you found yourself alongside Sejanus as you met your assigned tributes. Despite Sejanus displaying a sense of conscience regarding the circumstances and grappling with the notion of witnessing another species confined in a cage, he observed closely as you tended to your tribute. From that pivotal moment onward, each day saw him adopting a similar approach—nurturing his tribute, attending to their well-being, and primarily focusing on their strengths, all while harboring his internal opposition to the entire ordeal. 
You were the one who comforted him in the aftermath of the accident following the memorial for Arachne. While he was paying tribute to his deceased classmate, Snow instructed you to remove Sejanus from the scene. He, too, attempted to cling to her in a desperate effort to preserve her life, but it was already too late. With your guidance, advising Sejanus to shift his focus away from the crime scene, he found solace when you encouraged him to breathe and exhale. You assured him that everything would be okay. 
After that initial encounter with him, he underwent a profound transformation, growing closer to you. Your attentive check-ins during rehearsals, reminiscent of his mother's caring presence, played a significant role in this connection. Even stolen glances in class became a source of solace for him, helping maintain his sanity amidst the chaos of the Hunger Games, a veritable freak show.
You were well aware of his strong opposition to the idea. Despite enduring his complaints, you consistently reassured him that the popularity was just a temporary phase until graduation, and the Capitol would soon move on and forget. However, it turns out you were terribly mistaken. Despite the misjudgment, you believed it was the best you could do at the time. 
Fortunately, your relationship gradually deepened over time, even though you hadn't experienced the concept of falling in love. In a world where survival was commonplace in Panem, the notion of allowing oneself to fall in love seemed as ironic as it was rare. Despite attempting to suppress any burgeoning emotions for Sejanus, his softened gaze upon seeing you and the way he spoke your name with such warmth made it increasingly challenging. This, in turn, fueled suspicion from his friend Snow, who seemed to resent him more, suspecting Sejanus's potential feelings for you. Eventually, it became inevitable that you acknowledged and accepted your emotions toward Sejanus, whether they remained platonic or evolved into something more; the signs were undeniably clear. And Snow hated every bit of it. 
Certainly, rumors circulated throughout the Academy, fueled by the idea that someone as intelligent as you could outsmart even the wealthiest family, such as the Plinth. However, it wasn't until a few days before the commencement of the 10th Hunger Games that the scrutiny from your classmates' watchful eyes compelled you to hide your relationship in shame. You outgrew the stares, until finally implied official a mark to the relationship, all by holding Sejanus's hand with pride. The poor boy, initially taken aback by your sudden display of affection, was well aware of your usual reluctance towards public displays of emotion. Despite this, he began to grasp that your actions spoke of genuine love. It became increasingly evident that the sentiment was more than mutual. 
The aftermath of the Hunger Games told a different tale. Sejanus's emotional breakdown during the games hinted that his involvement was driven by a sense of altruism. However, many of your classmates, including yourself, emerged from the ordeal seemingly unscathed. It was as if you all were like minions, compliant in a sick and twisted game, a game where refusal meant facing death the very next day. The turning point came when you witnessed Sejanus screaming helplessly, condemning the Capitol as "sick monsters." His tear-filled eyes and desperate plea were a stark warning. You felt his gaze fixed on you, but this time, it carried a profound sense of hatred—a gaze that lingered ever since that fateful day. In Sejanus's eyes, you had become a monster, and he was painfully right. 
When Lucy Gray Baird was declared the victor of the 10th Hunger Games, Snow couldn't help but notice the shift in the dynamics of the relationship you had once shared with Sejanus. Despite his previous disdain for Sejanus, Snow's animosity towards his District 2 classmate intensified as he observed the unwavering focus of your eyes on him. You managed to hold back your tears, unlike Sejanus, burst into a complete symphony of a manic episode. Snow recognized that upon his return as a Peacekeeper, that he would make it his priority to take care of you. To Sejanus’s request if he didn’t make it out. 
Sejanus was acutely aware of his impending fate, discerning the emotions in your eyes as you fought to contain your tears—an act you were often admonished for in the harsh realms of reality and sorrow. A palpable distance had grown between you, and he acknowledged that he deserved every bit of it. However, when the news broke that he, too, was joining the Peacekeepers, you couldn't resist bidding him a final farewell. As the departure approached, Snow spotted you, witnessing the emotional exchange with his own eyes. 
He observed you shedding tears for another man, a sight that must have stung his pride. Despite the limited display of affection, there were undeniable traces of your past love for Sejanus. "I'll be a good boy." Sejanus would assure, and as you cupped his face, a rare moment of genuine closeness enveloped you. It was one of the first times you truly felt connected to him, and you yearned to grant him a farewell kiss, recognizing that this might be the last time you'd see him. "I'll keep your picture close with me... Even if you hate me so—" Sejanus began, but you swiftly cut him off, desperately emphasizing that any perceived hatred was rooted in self-centeredness. "I never hated you, Sejanus. Remember that." 
"I will." Came Sejanus's response without a hint of hesitation, and just before he departed, he sought a final taste of your lips. This act served as the last straw for Snow, tempting him to announce that it was time for duty, that he too would soon be called to fulfill his responsibilities. However, he resisted the urge. Instead, he chose to observe what it felt like to be genuinely in love, watching the two lovebirds share their final goodbyes. Though deeply haunted by the realization that Snow wasn't your sole choice, the haunting thoughts accompanied him throughout the journey back to District 12. Snow yearned to make Sejanus prove to whom you truly belonged, finding some solace in the benefits of the situation—until Sejanus's impending death sentence, that is. 
You received word of Sejanus's death while in the Capitol. On that particular day, you joined Sejanus's mother for dinner, a comforting routine that helped alleviate the absence of her son, engaged in his duties away. Despite her earlier tendency to downplay her husband's concerns for their child, she now comprehended the profound emotions you were experiencing mere weeks after Sejanus's departure. It was a moment of revelation for her when she looked into the eyes of her own child, realizing that her husband had been the true villain all along. 
Later that same evening, you started clearing the table when you heard the official news. A Panem Peacekeeper had arrived at your apartment. For some inexplicable reason, an ominous feeling gripped you, signaling that something had happened to Sejanus. Questions swirled in your mind—was he injured, or had homesickness prompted his return? However, any hopeful optimism quickly turned to tears as Sejanus's mother's anguished scream echoed in your thoughts. The heartbreaking truth emerged: Sejanus had passed away. The official explanation cited him as a simple rebel, but you suspected a much darker reality. Sejanus wasn't merely a rebel; he was someone the Capitol despised, refusing any association with their ideologies. 
The Plinth family arranged a formal funeral for their son, and while you had hoped for an invitation, you only learned about it through consequential rumors. Thanks to Tigris, who had the opportunity to style Sejanus's mother for her new job as a stylist, you were surprised to discover the disgraceful rumors circulating about your family. It was suggested that you had manipulated Sejanus to bend to your will, driven by your ambitions in the Games and an unbridled willingness to perpetuate a sick and twisted narrative for another year. 
According to this narrative, you were deemed no different from the rest—a citizen with psychotic tendencies, adorned in the veneer of fake affluence. These rumors reached Snow as he returned calls to Tigris back home, he wanted some update about you. Know how you were doing, as Tigris before hand had your confirmation that she would tell what had happened. Which provided a simple yet substantial reasons for his disdain towards the Plinth family from the very beginning, not only due to their subjective opinions but also their newfound hatred towards you. 
Upon returning to his role as a Peacekeeper, Snow found greater delight in seeing you. As you had gradually gained acceptance to the university yourself, securing a personal apartment became a challenging endeavor. The recent imposition of a new tax by the Plinth family added to the financial strain, making it doubly difficult to cover your university expenses. Fortunately, Tigris stepped in to assist, swiftly helping you secure a job. A renowned cabaret in the Capitol was in need of entertainers, and although hesitant to showcase your body for money, you recognized it as a necessary option. Fortunately, your employer treated the dancers well, and as long as you were able to pay your bills, he harbored no objections. Over time, you even developed a group of favorite regular customers. 
The streets of the Capitol had changed since his arrival. Not only had his hair grown, but wearing his father's wealth, symbolized by a stupid coat, had also demonstrated a newfound influence. Snow made sure to flaunt this affluence. The prospect of returning to the university and seeing you again mattered most to him. However, it wasn't until that particular evening when he decided to stop by your apartment that he noticed your absence. Puzzled, he thought to himself, as it was typically your time to prepare dinner or watch local television. Surveying the surroundings for any clue to your whereabouts, he recalled that his cousin Tigris had briefly mentioned something about you being the talk of the town lately. This revelation prompted Snow to consider searching the deeper and less savory streets of Panem for answers. 
It didn't take him long; as soon as the sun set and the lights of Panem's stores illuminated the streets, he spotted a poster. There, your face stared back at him, unmistakably you. "Cherry Red this afternoon! 9 PM!" Proclaimed the bold red and gold font, showcasing your entire body. Snow couldn't believe it—let alone fathom the idea of other men being captivated by you. Nevertheless, he entered. 
True to the promise, only the least affluent men in Panem and fellow Peacekeepers populated the bar. It being a Friday evening meant people were there to unwind and prepare for the weekend. Snow found himself struck by the stark contrast between his own downfall and the impoverished part of the Capitol. Despite the surroundings, he couldn't help but marvel at the luxury and lifelike atmosphere of the cabaret. Soon, other dancers spotted him, offering drinks or suggesting a little show, but he declined, asserting that he was there only for you, using your stage name, Cherry Red. 
Fortunately, he arrived just in time for your performance. With a man who wore outfits reminiscent of Flickerman noticed Snow's arrival, sporting a somewhat absurd demeanor. Cheeks flushed, a clear sign of pre-show indulgence, he exclaimed each word of your name with awe and pride. "Ladies and Gentlemen! Tonight, we have someone we love so much right here at Pub Rouge. It is none other than our favorite, Cherry Red!" 
Snow uncomfortably fell in line with the predominantly male clientele. Hearing "Ladies and Gentlemen." Was just one of the few flaws in the cabaret that he would have corrected if given the chance. To avoid arousing suspicions, he simply followed along, clapping like everyone else. However, rather than voicing your name in a distasteful manner, Snow quietly waited for your performance. 
The room filled with the vibrant sounds of the band and trumpets as you gracefully took the stage. Your outfit perfectly mirrored your name—bold and red as cherries. For those observant enough, it seemed as if Snow intentionally coordinated his attire to match yours. You immersed yourself in the character, embodying the woman you intended to be. The men of your age exhibited a mix of pride and envy, further boosting your confidence. Your playful interactions, especially teasing one of the Peacekeepers, earned you considerable admiration, much to Snow's chagrin. He overheard some background chatter about you, with phrases like. "I'd be with her anytime. Have you seen her curves? If I were the lucky guy, I'd do everything to show her who she belongs to." 
That fueled Snow with an intense anger, a boiling rage that churned within him. Fortunately, he managed to contain himself, sitting just far enough away to avoid you spotting him in the moment. However, his composure shattered when another voice crossed the line. "With that beautiful pair of lips, I bet she'd be a nice little whore and can take my big ass dick!" Laughter erupted, and though you were accustomed to such comments in the typically crowded environment, Snow, unable to restrain himself, swiftly delivered a punch to the man's face. Snow had completely lost his composure. As the scuffle continued, with the brawl escalating to a level one out of five, you were being escorted away. It was then that you noticed Snow's figure amidst the chaos.
"Coryo..." You murmured softly, as one of your colleagues attempted to escort you backstage. You complied with the act and tried to move, but upon catching his gaze after you called out his name, it took only seconds for Snow to be brought in, obliging even to be outside the hub before long. As he was pushed outside, one of the onlookers cursed under his breath. "Well, I'll be damned! If I see that guy again, he'll surely get a punch from me!" With his friends trying to calm the angered Peacekeeper down, he observed as you were escorted back, remarking, "I sense that someone had a little vulnerability over Cherry's presence."
Snow hadn't left entirely. In fact, he made sure to stay until the bar was ready to close. As he observed the group of Peacekeepers, memories of his own time in that role surfaced. They reminded him of the Peacekeepers in the Districts—little pieces of trouble, he'd openly declare if given the chance. Fortunately, you didn't have any bruises; in fact, you were so distraught that your colleague helped clean your makeup and took care of you. "My god, Y/N. What could've possibly happened there if you had intervened?" She questioned. Even you hated the fact that she was right; who knew what might have occurred if you had tried to break up the fight and ended up taking the punch meant for the Peacekeeper. You were well aware that Snow wouldn't easily excuse himself after this incident. 
By patiently waiting at the backdoor of the cabaret, he caught sight of another escort he had noticed earlier, who swiftly disappeared inside. He wasn't trespassing; rather, he was trying to reunite with you. Explanations could wait; for now, he wanted you all to himself, to taste your lips and be the one to incite jealousy among the Peacekeepers. Skillfully, he found his way backstage, drawing uncertain glances from ladies younger than you. They hesitated, contemplating whether to alert their boss about the intruder. It wasn't until he spotted you from a distance that even your colleague, who had taken care of you, noticed his presence enough to understand that it was her cue. “I’ll see you later, darlin’.” She said with her typical southern accent, and as soon as she was about to leave stop herself next to Snow. “Sir.” And bowed before leaving. 
On the other hand, you hastily adjusted your robe to cover your skin. Quickly, you applied the remaining red lipstick, swiftly cleaning the messy edges, assuming it was your boss's presence prompting the need for an explanation or reassurance that you were okay. However, as soon as you turned your head to see who it truly was, your eyes widened in shock. It felt almost too surreal, as if you had seen a ghost. "Coryo?" was all you could say. 
How he had missed you calling him by his nickname. Even though you had been in a relationship with Sejanus before, it was all thanks to being close to Tigris that you adopted the habit of using his nickname, something he cherished every time it left your lips. Particularly because none of his classmates, let alone his closest friends, used it. "What is this?" He questioned, his eyes scanning everything—from the booth to you, with a hint of disgust, shame. "Why didn't you tell me—" He felt a sense of sorrow, realizing he hadn't provided you with enough wealth, let alone a clean lifestyle. Tonight, he vowed to make a change soon. 
"Blame the Plinth." You uttered, attempting to push aside memories of Sejanus and your first love, concealing them as best as you could. Snow couldn't help but let out a light chuckle at the irony, recognizing that he, too, intended to make them pay for it all—every little bit. And in this endeavor, he envisioned you by his side. "I've missed you, you know." You continued, and to Snow's relief, he admitted the same. Perhaps, just maybe, a little too much.
"You have no idea how much I missed you too, sweetheart." He expressed, closing the distance between you. He kneeled, and even his piercing blue eyes softened as he lifted his gaze to meet yours. His finger gently traced your blushed cheek, the heavy makeup unable to conceal your undying beauty. "How about we go home? Together."
"Home?" You tilted your head slightly, doing your best to restrain your tears at his request. Despite the history of your relationship—from being a stranger to a friend and now a soulmate. "How—?" He nervously gulped, appearing confident in his words yet afraid to witness you in that emotional state. A state where money and selling your body didn't align with the image he wanted to see. "Because I'll do my best to take care of you." He assured, keeping his words simple yet sincere. 
"Home. A place to finally be yourself. No trouble, no feeling of doubt within your own self." And with that, you simply dissolved into tears, nodding in response to his confession. "Please," You begged, yearning for him, longing to feel his lips like you did with Sejanus back in the days. But this time, it felt genuinely true. Was this what true love really felt like? "Kiss me." There was no hesitation as Snow's lips instantly met yours in a hungry and passionate kiss, an expression of love since the very beginning. 
And in that very moment, Snow realized all too well that you had become his Lady. Not any kind of lady but the First Lady of Panem. 
Y/N, Snow.
1K notes · View notes
charmedreincarnation · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Let me share you some examples of people outside of a spiritual realm using the law of consciousness. Reading about placebo opened my eyes to realize whether I believe it or not, use it or not, it is always operating.
1. During wartime, particularly in World War II, when medical supplies were limited, the use of a saline solution as a placebo became prevalent. One notable figure associated with this practice is Henry Beecher, a medic during the war. When morphine, a powerful painkiller, was scarce, Beecher resorted to injecting injured soldiers with a saline solution (a mixture of salt and water) as a substitute.The fascinating observation was that many soldiers responded positively to the saline placebo, reporting a reduction in pain. Beecher’s experience led him to further investigate what is now known as the placebo effect. He discovered that even inert substances like saline could elicit a therapeutic response in individuals, highlighting the power of belief and the mind’s influence on healing. Using saline as a placebo during wartime was a practical solution to address the scarcity of medical resources. It allowed healthcare providers to provide some form of treatment while conserving limited supplies for critical cases. The phenomenon observed in these wartime placebo administrations contributed to our understanding of the placebo effect and its role in medical practices.
2. And then there was another placebo test done with surgeries demonstrated the power of the placebo effect in the context of surgical interventions for knee pain.
The study, often referred to as the “fake leg surgery” study, focused on patients with osteoarthritis in the knee. Participants were randomly assigned to either receive real arthroscopic surgery or undergo a sham procedure where no actual surgical intervention took place. The sham surgery involved making small incisions and mimicking the actions and sounds associated with the actual procedure.The surprising finding was that both groups, those who underwent real surgery and those who had the sham surgery, reported similar improvements in their knee pain and functionality. This suggested that the positive outcomes experienced by the participants were not necessarily due to the physical intervention but rather to psychological factors such as the placebo effect.
3. The most fascinating one was this one: The study aimed to explore the role of mindset in reversing some aspects of aging.
In this experiment, Langer and her team created a simulated environment reminiscent of the 1950s to immerse a group of elderly participants. The participants were instructed to act as though they were 20 years younger and encouraged to engage in activities that required physical and mental activity. It aimed to create an atmosphere where the participants felt as if they were stepping back in time.The results of the experiment were described as astonishing. Participants reportedly experienced improvements in various areas, including physical health, cognition, and overall well-being. The study suggested that by changing one’s mindset and engaging in an environment that challenges typical aging stereotypes, individuals may experience positive effects on various aspects of their lives.
4. The Man Who Overdosed on Placebo" is a story about a 26-year-old man, often referred to as "Mr. A," who was part of a clinical trial for an antidepressant drug. In a desperate state of mind, he attempted suicide by ingesting 29 capsules of what he believed to be the experimental drug. This act was triggered by his depression, which had worsened after a breakup with his girlfriend.
However, unbeknownst to him, the pills he had taken were not the actual antidepressant, but rather placebos - essentially inert substances, often sugar pills, used in clinical trials as a control group. Despite this, Mr. A's vitals showed alarming signs similar to those of a drug overdose, reflecting the power of belief over the physical body, a phenomenon known as the "nocebo effect."
The nocebo effect is essentially the evil twin of the placebo effect. While the placebo effect can lead to improvements in health due to positive expectations, the nocebo effect can cause negative symptoms or even exacerbate existing ones due to negative expectations. In this case, Mr. A exhibited symptoms of an overdose solely because he believed he had taken an overdose.
5. Sam Londe, is one of the best but sad classic example of the nocebo effect, as detailed in Dr. Joe Dispenza's book "You Are the Placebo."
Sam Londe was diagnosed with esophageal cancer, a condition known for its grim prognosis. His doctors informed him that he didn't have much time left to live. Accepting this diagnosis, Londe quickly became bedridden and his health deteriorated rapidly, following the trajectory his doctors had predicted.However, upon his death, an autopsy revealed a surprising fact: there was not enough cancer in his body to have caused his death. The small tumor in his esophagus was not large enough or in a position to interfere with his swallowing or breathing. Essentially, Londe didn't die from cancer; he died from believing he was dying of cancer.
This case demonstrates the power of the mind over the body, both positively (the placebo effect) and negatively (the nocebo effect). In this case, Londe's negative beliefs about his prognosis led to physical symptoms and ultimately his death.
I've seen dozens of examples where of stuff like this particularly in the realms of hexing and witchcraft. Honestly, the same could probably be said about subliminals. But it doesn't matter much.Why? Because they work. It's all about observation and choice. You could say it’s the mind but the mind operates on logic. This goes beyond the mind and to your true being, what observes the mind observing the pain in the first place.
Actually I was talking to someone who had been struggling with shifting for a while about this and it really resonated with her which is why I decided to share it. She took a water bottle, labeled it shifting juice and just assumed that when she finishes the bottle she has “full access to shifting powers” is that how it works. Nope. Did she shift after two years of struggling. Yep. It doesn’t matter what story you create yourself whether you want to use logic or not whatever you assume and persist in and know as a fact will harden into truth and therefore reality.I just wanted to share this story bc I find it absolutely hilarious how we sometimes take it so seriously yet it can be so easy. I know placebo is just an assumption. It’s like when you tell children you checked under their bed for the monsters and drafted them and they assume so so they can sleep soundly at night. Call it whatever you want assumption, placebo, it’s all just words and each community calls it something different but at the end of the day it works wether you know the truth behind it or not.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
574 notes · View notes
tswhiisftteedr · 2 months
Note
Ok I had a thought for a Fluffy drabble for Carmilla Carmine. She has an eldritch being husband who is basically heads over heels for her ,and while he is extremely powerful, just loves making sure his fallen angel is happy
Outworldly Husband ☆ Drabble
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
☆ Camilla Carmine x Eldritch Being!Male!Reader:
You might look different from most, but that didn’t stop her from loving you, and that definitely didn’t stop you from falling for her.
Warnings: None than I can think off :) not proofread.
Notes: I hope you like it anon!! Also I made reader speak old English to fit the narrative I created.
☆ more under the cut. ☆
Tumblr media
You and Carmilla shared a deep history, having met a few years after her descent into the fiery depths of hell. By that time, you were an established overlord, while she was ascending to the position as Hell's main weapon manufacturer.
Despite possessing formidable powers acquired through years of shrewd dealings, what truly turned heads around you was your appearance. Someone whom resembled a creature defying conventional logic, standing out even in a realm where sinners displayed versatile forms.
You, strong and mighty, ‘looked out of this world’.
That was Carmilla's initial impression of you, as her eyes met your figure at her first overlord meeting. She didn't go unnoticed by you either. It was, in a sense, a mutual love at first sight.
Following this encounter, you swiftly initiated a courtship, deepening your connection as both romantic partners and business associates.
Despite apprehension from her entourage due to your ‘odd looks’, Carmilla focused solely on your words and actions. You, a powerful yet gentle figure, treated her as an equal rather than an inferior based on your longer overlord status.
Your respect for her achievements was evident, and while your infatuation was apparent to both entourages, you made it a point to consider and express your opinions on her ideas. Refusing to blindly agree just because of your feelings, you demonstrated respect by evaluating proposals genuinely, acknowledging the merit of her ideas.
While you were inclined to listen, you didn't agree to every business-related matter, though most of the time you did, ‘simply because her ideas were exceptionally good!’
After a year of flirting and going on dates, the two of you finally became official, and the love between you was profound. The unique aspect of your relationship was that, coming from an older era, there wasn't the conventional 'dating phase’ most couple had during their journey. So, making it official meant entering directly into marriage.
The reception was exquisite, adorned with camellias on every walls, and Zestial, a close friend of both parties, officiated the ceremony.
And while you were considered ‘whip’ by most of hell’s population when you were in your talking stage, people found it challenging to define you now. You still were a man with an intimidating presence, but there was a noticeable ease when they witnessed your interactions with Carmilla, you just seemed less threatening when she was in the room;
"You should'st expedite thy preparations, lest thou prefer becoming mine lunch, thou pitiful insect," you would assert with an icy tone and gaze to a lower demon that setting the table for lunch. The poor soul, gripped by fear was frozen, they almost resigned to their fate, accepting imminent death.
That is, until your wife entered the room. Your expression underwent a complete transformation as you approached her, a whole 180, dropping to one knee and delicately taking her hand to press a gentle kiss on her knuckles.
“Carmilla, mine love, the loneliness i felt with thou absent was unbearable. It felt like descending into a deeper level of hell without hither mine dear wife.” you expressed.
"Hm, is that so, my dear husband? Well, I suppose I should make it up to you. How does a relaxing bath and a cozy cuddling session sound to you, Y/N?" she suggested, her hand gently caressing your face.
Rising from your position, you say, "Oh, mine heart, there's no want for guilt. Thee lack to compose aught up to me. Falling for thou was out of mine own volition." Gently taking both of her hands, you bring them close to your heart.
"Maugre mine longing for thou, i do not expect thou to pause thy life just for the likes of me," you continue, eyes brimming with love for the woman before you.
"Alas, if thou still would to share a instant with thy husband, i'd be moe than fortunate to share it with thou." you add with a smile, eliciting a soft laugh from her. To you, she was the perfect wife, and you were truly the greatest husband she could ask for.
Tumblr media
New english translation of text in order of appearance:
"You should expedite your preparations, unless you prefer becoming my meal, you pitiful insect,"
"Carmilla, my love, the loneliness I felt with you absent was unbearable. It felt like descending into a deeper level of hell without here my dear wife,"
"Oh, my heart, there's no need for guilt. You don't have to make anything up to me. Falling for you was out of my own volition."
"Despite my longing for you, I don't expect you to pause your life just for the likes of me,"
"However, if you still wish to share a moment with your husband, I'd be more than happy to share it with you,"
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Thanks anon for requesting!
©tswhiisfttedr. dn translate, or plagiarize. Buy me a book. And support my art account @maviscarlettie
Reblogs help!!! (Request Are On Pause)
431 notes · View notes
subterraneanna · 10 months
Text
I've been scanning and restoring some pieces of original Star Trek: TOS film and wanted to share this before and after from a deleted scene in the episode "Elaan of Troyius":
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
At nearly 60 years old, the film is in bad shape, exhibiting substantial scratches and color shifting. The magenta/red tint is a good example of dye fading, a sign of deterioration likely due to the film stock it was shot on.
Prior to 1950, color motion picture film was shot in Technicolor, which required a large, cumbersome camera to simultaneously expose 3 separate strips of negative film that then underwent a proprietary dye imbibition process to create a full color image. Though visually stunning and remarkably color-stable, it was a complicated, expensive process reserved only for high budget productions. In 1950, Eastman Kodak introduced Eastmancolor, the first 35 mm “single-strip” color motion picture negative -- in short, a film that was easy to shoot and process, and compared to Technicolor, only used a 1/3 of the film stock. Suddenly color film was an affordable option for studios and its popularity took off. Eastmancolor was composed of a single strip of negative film surfaced with 3 layers of light-sensitive gelatin emulsion. During development, a chemical reaction produced magenta, yellow, and cyan dyes on their corresponding layers, which were superimposed to create a full color image. Unfortunately, these dyes were unstable, something that wasn't apparent until aging films began to lose their color in the following years.
The Star Trek image above is pink because its yellow and cyan dyes have faded away, leaving just the magenta layer. The information may be lost, but digital restoration can improve what's left. But because the yellow and cyan greatly contributed to the overall density of the image, basic color balancing still produces a lower contrast version compared to what the original must have looked like. The missing richness and depth seems most apparent in the skin tones, but hand painting some of the color can bring a little life back to it, as I've done here. It's a challenge because, as far as I can tell, the only remaining footage or still shots of this scene show some level of dye fading. Fortunately, now that the film is digitized, restoration can be an ongoing project. If you own any color motion picture film negatives or prints, the sooner you get them scanned the better. In the meantime, helpful storage information can be found here.
It's been a while since I've shot any film (film major), so it's nice to see it again, even if it's chopped up into single frames. I have a small collection of them so I'll post more restored images as they're completed. BTW @cheer-deforest-kelley has a great post on how this film went from the editing room floor to the hands of fans.
2K notes · View notes
cyberslvts · 7 months
Text
FORGIVE ME NOT || w.maximoff
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Summary: As your relationship with Wanda progresses, things take a turn when you uncover the secret shes been struggling to keep from you.
WC: 5.6k
Warnings: angst, arguing , hints to smut, cunty wanda (my fav),
Read part 1 here!
Partnering up with Wanda had turned out to be a whirlwind of intensity. From the moment the decision was made to merge your engineering companies, the dynamics of your work life underwent a significant shift.
The initial days were marked by long hours of brainstorming, heated debates, and passionate discussions. You found yourselves challenging each other's viewpoints, pushing the boundaries of what you believed was possible, and refining your ideas until they were razor-sharp. Wanda's ability to think outside the box and approach problems from unconventional angles injected fresh energy into your projects.
What surprised you the most was the undeniable chemistry between the two of you. Despite your competitive history, your partnership unfolded with a sense of balance and harmony. Wanda's passion was infectious, igniting your own drive to achieve greatness. The moments of friction were offset by her unwavering determination and the genuine respect she showed for your skills
As for the other side of your relationship with Wanda, the two of you continued your secret hookups, during the late hours of the night when everyone had gone home, the only sounds that were to be heard in the building were moans and gasps of pleasure emitting from your office nestled on the uppermost floor.
This went on for a while. On certain evenings you showed up at her apartment after a grueling day of work looking to release stress. On other days wanda would simply barge into your office and take you right there on the desk, most of the time happening after her more frustrating phone calls.
The both of you brushing these encounters off as a way to relieve the stress from your highly demanding jobs. It became routine for the two of you. Once Wanda had wrapped up her work for the night she would make her way across the street to your office building, the glow of your still-lit workspace visible from the street below. timing it just as you signed off, she'd join you, and then the two of you would make your way to her place, On Occasion picking up takeout from that bistro on 42nd street if the mood struck you two. Arriving at her apartment, the memories would blur into a haze of red hair and fiery hands all over your body, the outside world fading away.
Once done with your rendezvous for the night you would slip out into the darkened city, with a wrinkled shirt and purple marks painted down your neck, only to repeat the same thing the very next day.
Soon the Nature of your relationship changed into something beyond physical desire.
Post-sex, you found yourself yearning for more than just a fleeting encounter. a desire to remain close to her in the aftermath of your passionate moments. It was you who took the initiative, reaching out for a deeper connection.
Wordlessly, your arm would drape over her waist, and you'd nuzzle your face into the comforting haven of her chest. This act of tenderness caught Wanda by surprise at first, yet she soon melted into the embrace, finding solace and warmth in your arms. The nights became more intimate, the two of you would stay up late in each other's arms sharing your secrets and fears, and dreams for the future. The dynamic between you and wanda changing into something more gentle and domestic.
Wanda was usually the first to fall asleep after the two of you had finished your activities for the night. Wrapping an arm around your waist and Snuggling her face into the warmth of your neck became a familiar routine for Wanda. Some nights, when sleep had yet to take over you, and the world was at rest, you spent your time observing the features of her face, being able to see her up close in such a relaxed and personal state was a privilege you were grateful to have.
During those nights. you took the opportunity to express the feelings you were too afraid to share when she was awake. With whispers of love and vulnerability, you spoke into the softness of her hair, letting your emotions flow freely in the silent embrace.
In your relationship with Wanda, she was often the one to express affection and openness, while you tended to be more reserved and hesitant. Love and relationships were something you weren't familiar with, which left you feeling intimidated and afraid of these feelings you had for Wanda. However, her endless patience and kindness were always there to remind you that there was no need to be hurried when Your presence alone would always be enough for her.
Some nights you didn't have sex at all. Wanda would whisk you away for a different kind of experience. She'd lead you to a charming dinner spot. The city lights would dance around you as you engaged in conversations that ranged from work to dreams, And although the night might not end in the same heated passion, the bond between you two only seemed to deepen with each moment spent in her presence.
After more stressful and exhausting days at the office, Instead of ripping each other clothes off the moment the door shut behind you two, you would take the time to unwind with each other. Having a glass of wine on the couch with your feet in Wanda's lap, her fingers tracing patterns into your skin as you listened to her tales about her work day. Together, you'd venture to the kitchen. Wanda's arms would wrap themselves around your waist, her chin on your shoulder watching your hands as they danced around the pots and pans.
Wanda was determined to create an environment where you felt truly at home. Wanting to provide you with a space where you felt comfortable and at ease. She stocked her bathroom with copies of your skincare products, she kept her fridge full of the food you liked and ridding the ones you didn't, and cleared out the nightstand on the left side of her bed so you could fill it with your items. subtle but meaningful gestures that made your heart swell.
It was unspoken. You and Wanda's devotion and loyalty to each other was something that didn't need affirmation. What you and Wanda felt for each other was something that didn't need to be addressed, or announced, Or shouted from the rooftops. It was just there. It was something intimate and private, an inevitable bond that simply was. It belonged solely to the two of you, existing in the moments you shared in your apartment or in Wanda's office during the late hours of the night. There was no need to flaunt it or make it known to the world; it was a precious and personal connection that only the two of you understood and cherished.
—---------
The plan was perfect. Every detail and calculation was refined to perfection.
When Tony Stark approached Wanda on that misty September morning she knew her fate was already sealed.
"Think about it, Wanda. You can't withstand her for much longer," Tony's gaze bore into Wanda's, unwavering. "Her upcoming A.I. release next month will overwhelm your sales. Before you realize it, you'll be plummeting down the rankings."
Wanda listened, her thoughts racing as Tony's words sank in. She had always been fiercely competitive, determined to maintain her position at the top. But the reality of the situation was starting to dawn on her. Her rivalry with you had reached a critical juncture, and the consequences of losing seemed more dire than ever. As Tony continued to lay out his proposal, Wanda found herself grappling with a difficult decision, torn between her ambition and the mounting pressure of the business world.
“So you want me to Seduce y/n into a partnership and pursue a relationship with her so that we can secretly steal information from her company?” Wanda raised her eyebrows in disbelief at Tony's ridiculous plan.
“Precisely!” He smiled, smugly leaning back into the chair with one leg crossed over the other
“And once we have all the information we need the two of us will take her down and well secure our spot as the top engineering company in America” Tony finished, Proudly
Wanda narrowed her eyes at the man sitting across from her, adjusting herself so one elbow was placed on the arm of her chair. “And how do you expect this plan to work?”
“Because I did the same thing to Bruce Banner.”
Wanda's jaw clenched as she recalled the events from the previous year. Tony had cunningly sent in one of his assistants, an unfamiliar face to everyone. They had met a few times, She was captivating, intelligent, and calculating much like Wanda herself. she had seamlessly integrated herself into Bruce's inner circle. For a time, Bruce's company thrived under her influence. However, that facade shattered when Tony unveiled a new invention that seemed to have drawn direct inspiration from ideas and innovations that originally belonged to Bruce.
Over the course of the year, Bruce's company suffered a devastating decline.A company that had once held such promise was now struggling, all because of Tony Stark. It was cruel and vicious and completely Unfair.
But it was also successful, after that incident Tony was able to rise tremendoulsy throught the ranks, his buisness flourished. He was brining in triple the amound of money he had before and was becoming an A-level threat in the industry.
Wanda sucked on the inside of her cheek, considering the weight of his plan. A rush of excitement built up within her at the idea of this succeeding
“Your the only line we have to y/n, Wanda” Tony persisted, his voice laced with persuasion.
Wanda knew this was a complete violation of her basic morals. She knew this was a sick and twisted act that you would never forgive her for.
Yet, the tantalizing prospect of emerging victorious, finally ending the prolonged feud, and toppling you for good. Well. The offer was just too enticing to ignore.
Thus, a plan was crafted, woven from a web of secrecy and deceit. Wanda found herself entangled in a sinister dance with Tony Stark, each step taken dragging her deeper into the abyss of betrayal. Late-night meetings in dimly lit corners became the norm, their hushed conversations shrouded in the darkness of their shared ambition
As the months rolled on, the plan took shape like an intricate puzzle. Wanda's role was to discreetly gather crucial information about your company's groundbreaking AI technology and innovative designs. Her position provided her access to your most guarded secrets, allowing her to siphon off precious data bit by bit.
Everything was going accordingly. You were as unsuspecting as ever, completely unaware of the intricate web of deception that had been woven around you. Wanda played her part well, maintaining the facade of a loyal business partner while secretly funneling information to Tony Stark and Maximoff Industries. There was nothing stopping her. She could pratically see her success unfolding right before her eyes.
Everything was perfect.
Except there was one major miscalculation.
She had fallen in love with you.
she had fallen so deeply and irrevocably in love with you.
This was certainly not apart of the plan. Wanda didn't know when or how it happened. What was supposed to be a relationship built on a base of lies and betrayal in order to receive the upper hand, had evolved into something entirely different.
She had always sensed a intangible connection between the two fo you. Initially, she dismissed it as was pure chemical attraction and lust. Yet, as time passed she found herself becoming more drawn to you. It was like an unstoppable force, completely defying the boundaries of her carefully constructed plan.
She tried to push aside these feelings, to remind herself that this was all a means to an end. But the more she resisted, the stronger her emotions grew. It was in the way you looked at her, with tenderness and understanding. It was in the moments of vulnerability you shared, the quiet conversations that revealed the depths of your souls.
Wanda was surprised by the change in her emotions, and she struggled to comprehend how the lines between rivals and something more had blurred so effortlessly. The more time she spent with you, the more she uncovered the layers of your personality, and she found herself captivated by the person you were beneath the surface
Your profound gentleness was something that took her by surprise. You had gotten a bad rap in the industry, being painted as a heartless, ruthless competitor. Yet, the more time Wanda spent with you, the more she realized that those portrayals couldn't be further from the truth.
In moments of vulnerability, you were a steady anchor for her, providing the support and understanding she needed. Nights when work became too much for Wanda and everything felt like an overwhelming mess. You were there. Holding her head against the warmth of your chest as she poured out her fears, frustrations, and worries. The way you looked at her with such patience and tenderness created an indescribable feeling of belonging inside of her. There was no judgment or impatience in your gaze, only genuine concern and a willingness to be there for her.
She grew to find peace in your quietness, the simplicity of being able to just sit in the same room together in silence, without a need for words. Was something Wanda cherished, the intimacy and connection that she built with you was something she didn't know she had been craving for all these years.
Wanda's love for you felt overwhelming at times. Throughout the day, she often found herself entranced by the simplest of moments – watching you do mundane tasks like putting on makeup or answering emails. To her, you were a living work of art, and she couldn't help but wonder how a person could be so perfect
In your presence, Wanda felt like the luckiest person in the world. Your beauty, intelligence, grace, and talent left her in awe, and she felt incredibly privileged to be a part of your life. The way you carried yourself with confidence and poise, the way your laughter filled the room with warmth, and the way you effortlessly excelled in everything you put your mind to – it was all a marvel to her.
So how could she possibly tell you about the unforgivable acts she had committed over the past seven months? The betrayal gnawed at her heart, making it almost impossible to face you. The mere thought of losing you created a overwhelming sense of panic and dread inside her. Wanda knew that if you were to ever find out what she has been doing you'd be gone in an instant. This thought alone was enough to keep her from confessing the truth.
—---------------
Wanda's hands were hot on your waist, your feet stumbling behind you in an attempt to keep from falling backward. You felt yourself being propelled into her office, the door slamming shut with a swift kick from her foot. In one fluid motion, she spun you around, and your back made forceful contact with the hardwood material of her office door.
She brought her lips back to yours, reconnecting you into a bruising kiss. Your hands wrapped around her neck until they tangled themselves in her hair, pulling her face closer to yours. She moaned into your mouth, moving her hips until they were pressed right against yours, trapping you between her and the door.
Both of you being more desperate than usual after being trapped in endless meetings all week, barely having enough time to exchange pleasantries with each other.
“I missed you so much” she sighed against your lips, beginning to lose herself in the heated kiss, Wanda's hand moved to firmly squeeze the flesh of your ass, eliciting a gasp from you, which she took advantage of to slip her tongue into your mouth. Her lips then trailed down to your jaw, leaving wet kisses all the way down to your neck.
Her hands and lips were all over you, sending jolts of warmth straight to that spot in between your thighs. When she forced your thighs apart with her leg, her knee coming into straight contact with your pussy, you had to force yourself to pull away. Knowing where this exchange was headed,
“No, Wanda, not here," you protested, though her lips continued their journey, making it difficult for you to resist. When she pressed her lips against that spot behind your ear you had to exert self-control and gently push her away. "Someone will see," you tried to reason with her.
Wanda hummed, clearly not paying attention to anything that you were saying. “and plus, you have a meeting in” you glazed at your wrist watch “8 minutes!”
“Perfect, that's plenty of time” she smirked, clearly not concerned about the time constraints
“Wanda, I'm serious” you firmly spoke. Wanting to avoid any potential consequences.
“Okay okay” she finally relented stepping back in defeat, and you felt a sudden chill, immediately missing the warmth of her body “God, I'm so sick of all these board meetings” she grumbled in frustration.
“I know, it's been overwhelming lately” you responded with the same frustration as her, these past few weeks have been hell, leading up to the release of you and Wanda's newest project. the two of you spending almost every hour of the day locked in conference rooms with endless waves of snobby investors, reviewing contracts, and going over every last detail of the project. The pressure was immense, but the two of you were determined to make it a success. Long days turned into even longer nights, and exhaustion began to take its toll.
"I can't even remember the last time we had a proper date," you added with a hint of exhaustion in your voice, knowing that Wanda could relate. "But at least this is your last one for today. Who did you say it was with again?"
"No one important," she responded rather quickly, trying to downplay the significance of the meeting. But you could tell there was something more to it from the way she avoided making eye contact.
"Come on, Wanda, don't shut me out," you gently encouraged, reaching out to tilt her chin up so that she had to meet your gaze. "If it's bothering you, I want to know."
Wanda sighed, her guard slowly crumbling under your caring gaze. "It's just another potential investor," she admitted, her voice tinged with frustration. "They've been hounding me for weeks, and I finally agreed to meet them today. But honestly, I don't have a good feeling about it."
You squeezed her hand reassuringly, understanding the pressure she was under. "you're an incredible businesswoman, and our company is doing amazing things. If this investor can't see that, it's their loss," you said, offering her a small smile
Wanda's lips curled up slightly. "You always know how to make me feel better," she said softly, leaning in to press a gentle kiss against your lips.
“Come by my apartment later?” her hands returned to your waist, softer this time “I want to see you.”
"I'll be there before you get home from work" you confirmed, caressing her cheek with your thumb. "I could use some time with you too."
Wanda's eyes glimmered with affection, and she leaned in to plant another tender kiss on your lips. "I can't wait," she whispered, her voice filled with eager anticipation. Reluctantly, you pulled away, playfully nudging her shoulder. "Okay, go. You can't be late."
“Yes ma’am” Wanda replied with a playful grin, giving your lips one last peck before quickly gathering her things and disappearing down the hallway.
—-------------------------
The night air was warm, and the streetlights cast a soft, golden hue on the sidewalk as you stepped out of your car, securing it with a click of the lock. Your gaze was drawn upwards to the towering black building that housed Wanda's apartment complex.
Amidst the sounds of speeding cars, the sidewalk remained sparsely populated, with only a few people making their way home from work. You strode into the building, warmly greeted by the opulence of the lobby—bright white lights and exquisite furnishings welcomed you. You exchanged a friendly smile with Liam, the receptionist, whom you had gotten to know quite well after numerous late nights spent sneaking out of Wanda's room, makeup slightly smudged with a pair of heels in your hand.
Once inside the elevator, you pressed the button for the top floor where Wanda's apartment awaited. Stepping out onto her floor, you walked down the dimly lit hall, reaching into your purse to retrieve the spare key she had given you.
Opening and closing the door with a click you were met with the darkness of Wanda's house. Placing your keys on the welcoming table next to the door you flicked on the lights to reveal the dark hardwood floors and pristine white countertops of Wanda's kitchen.
The air was scented with a hint of fresh flowers and the subtle fragrance of high-end perfumes,. You felt yourself relax into the familiar scent of Wanda. The apartment's interior boasted contemporary furnishings, luxurious fabrics, and tastefully arranged art pieces, creating a space that exuded both comfort and style. The night skyline, visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painted a mesmerizing scene as the city lights illuminated the room. The attached balcony provided a captivating view of the bustling city below while providing a comforting distance from its energetic pace.
You pulled at the collar of your shirt, the tight scratchiness of your work clothes made you cringe, quickly kicking off your heels you made a beeline to Wanda's room, heading straight for her closet. You shifted through her endless collection of expensive, pants, coats, blouses, and suits until you reached the drawer that housed her comfortable clothes.
Just as you were about to slip on a pair of her soft sweatpants, the loud sound of your phone ringing echoed throughout the empty apartment, startling you. Picking up your phone you were met with a notification from your reminders app
Send final draft to Natasha - due 12 pm
You groan at the thought of having to do any more work for the night, the idea of even opening your laptop made you want to cry. Deciding to just get it over with, You reached inside your purse, expecting to be met with the hard material of your laptop. instead, feeling the large emptiness of your purse. You sighed in frustration, you must have left it on your desk back at the office.
The exhaustion was taking its toll on you, and you knew you couldn't put off the task any longer. With a heavy heart, You made your way out of Wanda's room and down the hall to the doors of her home office. A wave of relief washed over you once you saw her laptop already hooked up to her two larger monitors. You had used Wanda's office a number of times, settling down into her large swivel chairs you moved around the mouse, the dark room being lit up by the bright light of the screen. The screen opened up to reveal the inbox of Wanda's emails. Realizing she must have forgotten to sign out you immediately moved your mouse to the corner of the screen heading for the switch accounts button, not wanting to invade her privacy.
However, your movements stopped when you noticed an email Chain between Wanda and Tony Stark. You paused. Why was she emailing Tony, one of your top competitors? You know you shouldn't have. You should have respected her privacy and clicked off. But curiosity got the best of you and you clicked on the most recent email.
Wanda,
It's been weeks now and you haven't given us any new information regarding Y/n L/ns newest designs, you were supposed to give us the blueprint to her A.I Robot last month. What is going on?
Tony Stark, Stark Industries
Sent today, 9:27 am
A cold sensation ran through your body, No. This wasn't what it looked like. Wanda would never do something like this. There had to be some sort of explanation for this. Your hands trembled as you scrolled through the email chain, desperately seeking some clarification or context that could explain why Wanda had shared your company's confidential information with Tony Stark. The more you read, the more your suspicions about wanda were confirmed.
The emails were filled with discussions about your latest projects, strategies, and even your upcoming releases. It was clear that Wanda had been feeding Stark Industries information about your company, and it left a bitter taste in your mouth. The trust you had in her was shattered, and you couldn't fathom why she would betray you in such a way.
As you continued to read, you noticed that there were times when Tony had pushed for even more sensitive information, and Wanda seemed hesitant and conflicted in her responses. It appeared as though she had some reservations about what she was doing, but she still continued the exchanges.
Your heart pounded in your chest as you read the emails, feeling like the ground beneath you was crumbling away. Wanda had been sharing your company's confidential information with Tony Stark, your biggest competitor. she had betrayed your trust and jeopardized everything you had worked so hard for.
Your mind was a whirlwind of emotions—anger, hurt, confusion, and sadness. You knew you needed to confront Wanda about this.
—------
Wanda's back throbbed with exhaustion, and her eyelids struggled to remain lifted as she wearily navigated down the hallway toward her penthouse. The meeting with potential investors had stretched far beyond her expectations, leaving her drained beyond her belief. She lazily fumbled with her keys and eagerly swung open the door ready to drop everything and crawl into bed with you.
Wanda nearly dropped her bag in shock when she flicked on the lights to reveal your figure seated in her kitchen, your limbs crossed, wearing an unreadable expression on your face.
“Jesus, y/n. You nearly gave me a heart attack” She sighed in relief, her hand dropping from its previous place on her chest. Her bag found its place on the floor, and she balanced on one foot, steadying herself on the wall as she undid the straps of her heels.“What are you doing still up? I thought you'd be asleep”
“Couldn't sleep,” your monotone reply cut through the air, your gaze drilling into Wanda's form.
Once she got her shoes off she moved closer to you ready to find out whatever was bothering you, but her movements faltered when she noticed a sea of spread-out papers covering her kitchen island, When she moved in closer to inspect them her face went pale.
There in front of her were dozens of printed-out copies of emails and documents between her and Tony. Stone cold undeniable evidence.
“Y/n. I can explain” Wanda's voice wavered, her gaze lifting from the incriminating evidence to meet your eyes,
"Explain?" you retorted, a mix of disbelief and anger coloring your tone. "How do you even begin to explain going behind my back for months, taking our confidential information, and then willingly giving it to our main competitor?
"It was never meant to go this far," Wanda pleaded, desperation lacing her voice. She knew this was bad. Nothing about this situation was justifiable. She had completely shattered your trust and violated the sanctity of your company.
"It's over. I stopped sending him information weeks ago," she continued, her voice quivering with remorse.
You stood up from your seat, putting distance between the two of you as you paced around the kitchen island. The weight of the situation hung heavily in the air.
"Like that's supposed to make me feel better," you retorted. You began to pick up the scattered papers, each one a painful reminder of the breach of trust
Your heart ached as you revisited the documents. You had spent countless hours, pouring your soul into those blueprints and designs. They were a connection to your father, a legacy you held dear
"All of my work," you muttered, flipping through the papers with a mix of disbelief and anguish. Memories of the nights you had dedicated to perfecting your craft flooded your mind. Your father's legacy, his hard work and dedication, all of it felt tarnished by this revelation.
“My blueprints, my designs…My Father's designs!” you practically growled, slamming the documents onto the table. The sound echoed throughout the room. Your eyes welled with hot tears that threatened to spill out at any moment.
Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to figure out how she could have done this. Wanda. Your wanda. Your sweet, gentle Wanda who would never have even dreamed of hurting you, could do something so cruel.
“Y/n, im sorry. Im so sorry” Wanda's voice cracked, her own eyes brimming with tears as she met your gaze.
You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing emotions. "Sorry? Sorry doesn't even begin to cover it, Wanda," you said, your voice a mixture of hurt and anger. "You've not only betrayed me, but you've tarnished my father's legacy. How could you do this to me?"
Wanda's shoulders slumped, the weight of her actions bearing down on her. "I never meant for any of this to happen," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I never thought it would spiral out of control like this.”
"You thought you could just play both sides and not face the consequences?" you shot back, your frustration boiling over. "And with Tony Stark of all people? Do you realize what you've done?"
Wanda reached out tentatively, her hand hovering in the air before she let it drop to her side. "I know I messed up, y/n. I know I hurt you” she said, her voice heavy with remorse.
"I-I wasnt thinking" she stuttered, her panic beginning to skin into her words. "And I let my own desperation cloud my judgment."
"You've completely shattered the trust I had in you," you said moving your face to the side away from Wandas. "I can't even look at you right now"
Wanda's tears finally spilled over, her hands shaking as she let out a choked sob. “Please y/n, I am so sorry” Wanda felt her heart begin to break. “I'll do whatever it takes to make this right. I swear to you”
As you looked at her, your anger began to fade, replaced by a profound sense of sorrow and loss. The weight of the situation bore down on you both, a heavy silence enveloping the room.
“Was it all a lie?” Your voice barely above a whisper, tiptoeing around the subject that had been an unspoken weight between you. The subject that neither of you had dared to address until this moment.
“No. Y/n, No” Wanda immediately responded, knowing exactly what you were referring to.
She swiftly closed the distance, her steps moved in sync around the kitchen island to stand before you. Her trembling hands reached out, an unspoken plea in her eyes as she gently took hold of your hands, her fingers brushing against yours.
“What I feel for you, the way you make me feel. It was never a lie.” The honesty and desperation poured into her words. Wanda's love for you was sacred to her. Something that grew to become a part of her. Something that she would never lie to you about.
“And how do you expect me to believe that.” you fired back at her.
Wanda felt a lump forming in her throat, struggling to find the words to bridge the gap between you. You were right, how could you believe her when the past 6 months had been nothing but a lie “Please. Y/n, Please”
“How long have you been doing this? When did it start?” you interrogated her, your demeanor completely shifting from hurt to anger “And I swear to god, don't you dare lie to me.”
Wanda's eyes dropped to the floor, the weight of her actions heavy on her shoulders. Her grip on your hand loosened, her fingers sliding back to her sides as if she felt unworthy of your touch. Her voice was a quiet murmur, laden with shame. “That first night in the conference room. Right after we had sex.”
Once you heard that piece of information it felt like something died inside you, all your fears and doubts being confirmed in an instant. Your expression went dark as you turned your head away from Wanda and began to collect your things.
“I'm going to contact my lawyer to work out a lawsuit against you and stark industries” you stated firmly. Not looking up from where you were pilling your belongings into your bag. “And after that, I never want to see you again.”
With your bag securely packed you turned to make your exit, brushing past Wanda, completely ignoring her gaze refusing to be swayed by any emotions that might try to cloud your judgment.
Wanda's eyes widened in surprise, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone. "Wait, y/n, please. Don't do this" she begged, reaching out to you, her hand trembling slightly as if trying to hold onto something slipping through her fingers.
“Please. I love you.” Wanda's words hung heavy in the air, and you couldn't help but feel a mixture of emotions wash over you.
You paused for a moment, screwing your eyes shut as your back remained face to Wanda.
The two of you have never said those words before. Mainly because there was no need. You both felt it. You both knew it was there. But hearing it out loud. now. under these circumstances, made it feel like someone was tearing your heart into two.
Without waiting for a response, you turned and walked away, leaving Wanda behind in a silence so loud she felt it might consume her.
Tumblr media
Taglist: @reginassweetheart @psychickryptonitebouquet @marvelwomen-simp @lesbianpizza @ilovetlcc @dracarys8287 @kittnii
Please let me know if I forgot anyone or if you want to be added to the list <3333
750 notes · View notes
hyperactively-me · 7 months
Text
king!ghost x reader -- lessons
more of a filler, but doesn't make it less important!
Many weeks have gone by since you married King Ghost. You were finally somewhat settled into a normal routine after Ghost had assigned a personal advisor and tutor to you, teaching you the political atmosphere of Kastron. 
Though you had once been an outsider to the kingdom’s politics, you now held a newfound responsibility of being queen. As a child, you were only taught how to be a homemaker, with the occasional sparse political lesson. Ghost had made sure to oversee your education of his kingdom. His guiding hand, however, had made this transition a little less daunting.
He had appointed you a personal advisor, Sir Mark, a seasoned statesman with a wealth of experience. A kind woman, Lady Daphne, served as your tutor in matters of economics and governance. Your days now unfolded within the quiet confines of the palace study, immersed in books and the wisdom of your teachers. The political landscape of Kastron, with its intricate alliances and history, unfolded before you, leading you to understand the complexities of the kingdom as a whole. Matters you were once ignorant or unknowledgeable about soon became clear to you. 
Surprisingly, you found it all fascinating. The art of diplomacy, the complexities of governance, and the lineage of Kastron's rulers were all smaller parts playing in the larger picture of today’s current political state. Sir Mark patiently guided you through the labyrinth of politics, teaching you to navigate its treacherous waters. Lady Daphne, with her encyclopedic knowledge, brought light to the finer points of economic policy and governance. 
Yet, Ghost's influence extended beyond the realm of politics. Thankfully, he believed that a queen should be more than just a mother or a diplomat; she should be a protector of her kingdom. He continued to oversee your instruction in the art of swordsmanship. At first, it was daunting, but your determination matched Ghost's patience, and you soon became a formidable swordswoman after many long days of training. 
But it wasn’t all study and training. After the confrontation in the dining room, you both mutually decided to get to know each other in a more civilized manner. You began to spend more of your down time with Simon, showing him little bits and pieces of what you liked, who you are, and vice versa. Over the next couple of weeks, you spent days riding horses through the realm, letting him show you the terrain. 
Evenings were reserved for games, typically card games, or reading. In a dimly lit chamber, you and Simon challenged each other with your mutually competitive natures. His laughter, a rare sound, echoed through the room as you battled for a win over card games. And every night, he would walk you back to your quarters, ensuring you got to bed safely. 
Amidst your busy schedules and activities, you found moments of quietness with him. You would sit with Simon, talking about everything, small or large. The man who had once been a distant and stoic figure now confided in you, his trust a precious gift. Slowly but surely, you began to warm up to him, seeing beyond the enigmatic facade of Ghost. You started to let your guard down as you started to see him for who he is, slowly letting him in. 
As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, you underwent a transformation. No longer an outsider, you emerged as a queen in the making with a deep understanding of Kastron’s politics.
- - - - -
(masterlist)
581 notes · View notes
msgexymunson · 1 year
Text
Rumour Part 6: Rite
Description: Significant changes are happening, what with you moving in with Eddie, and his band taking off. But, are you both headed in the same direction?
Warnings: NSFW, minors DNI you should know that by this point, Tiny angst, hella fluff, major smut, sub!fem!reader x dom!older!Eddie, spanking, slight anal play, oral fem receiving, p in v unprotected sex (wrap it folks!) established relationship
A/N: This was a challenge, I really hope I've given them a good send off. Thank you to everyone who has supported me, I'm really going through it right now so this was hard, but worth it! I hope you enjoy this Eddie as much as I do. Comments and reblogs are integral to my well being at this point, please let me know if you liked it! ❤️
7.7k words
Masterlist Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5
Wiping at the sweat beads gathering on your forehead, you gaze around the new room. The apartment smells wrong, like past people's lives. The hardwood floors creak under your feet as you move to collect the last of the boxes, sound echoing delicately through the high ceilinged space, along with the tinny noise of the portable radio playing some generic rock song. 
This is the biggest place you've ever lived in. The apartment was truly breath taking, such massive windows, an awe-inspiring view that took you by surprise each time; as well as a huge bathroom, and even a spare room for guests. Humming along to the radio, you stride towards the front door at the same time that Eddie walks right through it. 
"Leaving already?" He laughs, hauling two boxes under each straining arm. 
"I was going to get the last of it." You tilt your head at him, watching how his arms flex under the tension. 
"Well, this is the last of it. Come and get it, pretty girl." 
You smile and move to help him unload. The rock radio station suddenly changes tracks to an old Kiss record. 
Eddie smiles, and starts singing along, reaching towards you, dragging you into a reluctant dance. 
"I was made for loving you baby, you were made for loving me" he sings intentionally off key forcing a giggle out of you as he twirls you around. 
"Oh God, this song is so old!" Rolling your eyes you attempt to extricate yourself from his grip. 
"So? So am I. I remember when this came out, fuck." He looks almost distressed at that fact for a moment, before he recovers, spinning you on the spot and pulling you in flush to his chest. 
"So, roomie, what now?" You laugh, batting your eyelashes at his behaviour. 
Watching his face, you see his eyebrow raise, eyes squinting as in deep thought.
"Now? Now I take the moving van back. Then after that, well, we have sex in every room. Obviously. It's tradition." Nodding sagely, he states it like it's a well known fact. 
"Tradition, huh? Since when?" You smirk back at him. 
"Well, these things have to start somewhere, right?" He winks at you, pulling you even closer so he can mouth at your neck. 
"Don't, I'm all sweaty!" You giggle, his lips and tongue brushing over your glowing skin. 
"You say that like it's a bad thing." 
Flushing, you push futilely at his face, attempting to move it away from you. 
"Pervert." 
"We're moving in together, and you've only just realised that? That's on you, sweet thing." Searching for that sweet spot between your neck and shoulder he locates it with ease, biting down hard. 
"Oh Fuck, Eddie!" Fingers crunching uncomfortably into his hard biceps you bend your neck, uncontrollably twisting right into his spit slicked grip. 
"Yeah? Maybe I should take the van back a little later, huh?" His fingertips flirt with the waistband of your shorts, firm digits pressing into the soft flesh of your tummy. His strokes are soft and measured, mouth moving to nip into the tops of your breasts. 
"Eddie…" you try to say in a sing-song, warning manner; but, your voice comes out in a pathetic drawl, whining and needy.
"You want me to stop? Just tell me, pretty girl." He says as he pulls your shorts and underwear down in one swift movement, leaving you bare, exposed to the air and his ministrations.
"Oh Eddie" you breathe out, voice barely whispering, drunk on the mere thought of his touch. 
"That ain't a no" he chuckles, roughly pulling his sweatpants down. The hardness of his pierced length presses into your begging cunt, the dripping slick of your anticipation just pleading for his well endowed shaft. 
"Baby? Really?" You nearly giggle at his eagerness. That is, until he grasps you by the hips and presses your back against the wall. 
"Yes. Really." Rubbing his pierced dick through your folds to gather your slick, he spits down at where you both meet to aid the process, that act alone having you gasping breathily, biting your lip at the lewdness of his actions. 
Without another thought he's pushing into you, splitting you open with his imposing cock. You swear you can feel the steel balls of his piercing rubbing against your G spot. Eyes rolling back, you grasp at his arms, legs flailing helplessly in the air as you're suspended in the air by him, as helpless as a rag doll.
"Oh my God, Eddie, fuck." You salivate at the enormous stretch, cunt clenching around his girthy member. He has you pressed against the wall, back solid against the plasterboard and brick. 
Hoisting your legs around his waist, you lock him in place deep seated inside of you, your hands woven and tangled with the messy bun his hair is loosely tied up in. 
Foreheads touching, you can't help but feel a swell of relief blossoming in your chest at the feel of him filling you entirely. 
"You drive me crazy, pretty girl. I just need you, all the time." He huffs a gruff laugh, clinging to your hips. 
"I know, this just feels right" you breathe out, planting a soft feather kiss to his nose. 
Keeping your back firmly forced against the wall he thrusts into you, pushing you upwards with every stroke. Panting, your heat envelops him, hands grasping his hair desperately, unable to meet his thrusts like this. You're his to use. 
"Oh my God!" You moan brazenly, fingertips pressing minute bruises into his shoulders as you feel yourself being pushed to the apex of your concupiscence. 
 "Yeah? Fuck, you take me so well, such a good fuckin' girl." His drives into you increase, grunting with effort, large inked hands grasping you intensely; you, the object of his desires. 
Burning for him, the throb between your legs mounts and mounts, threatening to burst primitively through your nerves. 
"Oh Eddie, please," your tongue hangs out of your mouth uncontrollably, tongue stud glinting in the light. Eddie wraps your tongue in his own, rippling around it, licking into the soft heat of your mouth. 
Gasping hotly, soft whimpers masked by his lips, Eddie's presence overwhelms you, clambering into your very soul; warm provocative want disbursing throughout you. 
Wanton moans reach a crescendo when he pushes you over that precipice with his firm strokes. Your release antagonises every limb, forcing the true magnitude of your pleasure out through your very veins and beyond, the universe having to deal with being saturated with your violent delights. 
Coming down, your cunt quivering, you feel his thrusts get harder and more erratic as he spews filth into your ear, hot breath dancing over your skin making you gasp and shiver. 
"Fuck, my filthy angel, letting me use this pretty pussy, you drive me fuckin' crazy, with this tight wet cunt of yours, oh fuck!" 
With a long, drawn out groan. After a moment, in between panting breaths, you manage to struggle out, "you're feral, Mr Munson." 
Eddie laughs deep in his chest, you feel it vibrate through you. 
"Only for you, sweet thing." 
"I fucking love you baby" You say, lips dressing kisses to his jaw and throat. 
"I love you too, sweets." His hands massage into the fat of your hips, lips peppering saccharine kisses to your salty skin.
********************
Nearly three weeks later and you're shoving whatever boxes that couldn't be unpacked on time into the muddle dump of the spare room, the panic of other people being in your space truly settling in. 
You hardly feel to blame, you were only given three weeks grace from moving in, to having a party. It was not only your moving in party, but also Eddie's birthday on the 30th, and Halloween on the 31st. The trifecta was a little difficult to ignore. 
Striding into the living room littered with black balloons, you move with purpose over to Eddie's weight bench, stifling a whimper at the sight that greeted you. 
"Eddie, is that enough decorations… Jesus Christ." 
You stop. And stare. 
It's been a learning curve, moving in with Eddie. Sometimes, it feels as normal as breathing. On other occasions, he makes your mouth turn dry and your thighs clench and he doesn't even realise what effect he's had on you. This is one of those times. 
Eddie's on his weight bench, shirtless, wearing a pair of loose sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips. He positively gleams in the light, muscles and tattoos catching shimmers of light; bending and twisting the glow straight back into your star struck eyes.
 It looks like a serious amount of weight he's benching; his torso is drenched in sweat. As he pushes the bar into the clips, he cocks his head and winks at you. 
Mouth gaping like a fish, all you can do is watch that self satisfied smirk smooth across those lips like a warm balm. 
"Hanging in there sweets?" He winks at you, shattering through your nerves like a freighter. 
"I- er, yeah. Just wanted to uh, know, er, if the decorations are ok?" you say, indicating the all black décor. 
Your own humming and stammering force your cheeks to blossom into an embarrassed glaze, eyes seeking submission, looking down and away. 
"Looks incredible, sweet thing. Are you ok?" He frowns, genuine concern coating his consternation.
You glance back to grasp his eye contact, trying in desperation to avoid gaping at his toned sweaty form. 
"I'm fine, just a little nervous you know?" Shrugging it off, you move to turn away, but Eddie's already grasped you firmly, fingertips biting into your upper arm.
"Are you sure? You know, we don't have to have a party if you don't want to." 
The furrowed brow, the frown, the grip he has on you; you almost want to cry from the sheer concern to your feelings. 
"It's fine baby, I'm ok, just a little nervous."
"You'll be great. You'll knock them dead. Hell, I'm sure everyone will like you more than me by the end of the night." His warm smile and coaxing strokes help to ground you. 
"Thank you. I'm gonna get ready, ok? Have you got everything you need so you can change?" 
"Yeah I think so, sweets. I put it all in the bathroom. Can I see yours when you're ready?"
You giggle and shrug your shoulders. 
"Maybe? It's a surprise." 
"Oh I see. Well, I'm sure it'll be hot. Can't wait, pretty girl." 
He brushes his thumb across your bottom lip, whilst his eyes leave fire bloomed trails across your skin; even breathing becomes difficult in the sheer strength of his presence. 
"Ok, love you." You manage in a huffed breath, planting a tacky lipped kiss to his full lips. 
Moving to the bedroom to settle down at your vanity, you apply the most innocent makeup that you can muster, knowing full well that Eddie was going to lose it when he saw you. All doll eyes and soft pink frosted lips.
It didn't take as long as you had left to get ready, but tactically you stayed alone in the bedroom just a little while longer.
You know, as sure as death and taxes, that Eddie will outstrip himself of all composure at the sight of your outfit. One of the many reasons why you felt it necessary to hide until just before the party commences. I mean, if he saw you before, you're well aware of how quickly you'd be pinned to the bed due to his desires. 
Five minutes to go, and you feel just safe enough to make your exit. You know he has no time to manifest his impulses. Stepping out of the bedroom, you move towards him in your white low cut strappy top, white pleated tennis skirt and trainers, complete with angel wings and golden wire halo. Your thigh high socks are pristine, a white glow of virgin material, matching the soft white feathers of your faux wings. Turning on the spot in a flirty display, you give out a small girlish giggle. 
"Holy fucking shit sweetheart. I mean, well. Fuck." 
Whilst he clambers for speech, you catch a moment to take in just how good he looks. 
As far as effort, it's not much. But you can't help but feel any more would be too much. Gilding the lily. Taking a deep breath, you attempt to steady yourself. 
Looking from his large feet upwards, it's standard Eddie attire. Clunky combat boots, black jeans, and a black belt with a custom devil's head buckle. Glancing upwards is where it gets interesting. A maroon button down shirt adorns him, the sleeves rolled up and so unbuttoned that the majority of his glistening inked chest is exposed. 
Fake blood makes its slow, antagonising drip from his neck down the rippling muscles of his torso. Fingertip smudges lay on his toned neck, drawing your eye to his stubbly chiselled jaw and cheekbones. His eyes look sunken due to the heavy eyeliner that sat there, enhancing his dramatic stare. The piece de la resistance lay in his curling mop of hair. Bone-like horns rose from his scalp into the atmosphere, so naturally they appeared to be a part of his body; you couldn't even work out how they were attached. 
The most dramatic part of all were the all black contact lenses that appeared to not only take over his irises, but also the whites of his eyes, making him look possessed. Pure inky black orbs stare back at you in a way that makes your thighs clench with want. 
Eddie's just about as lost in your looks as you are lost in his. 
"Did you- did you know, sweet thing?" 
"I saw the package arrive with the custom horns, I kinda knew from there. I had a school girl outfit, but I thought it would be cute to match, you know?" 
Watching Eddie intently you notice a heavy swallow; an attempt to compose himself. 
"A school girl outfit too? Which you have?" The shakiness of his voice ripples a chuckle through your chest.
"Yes, a school girl outfit. But you like this, right?"
"Oh you have no fuckin' idea sweets." 
Taking your hand, he moves to spin you in a slow circle. When your back is to him however, he can't help but flip your skirt up to flash your underwear to his perverted gaze. 
"Hey!" 
"Hey what?" He says, like it's the most normal thing in the world. 
"Creep." 
He laughs in his throat, lifting your skirt again for a final peek. 
"Can you blame me? I mean, look at this little white lace number, how I'm I supposed to control myself?" 
As you giggle, pulling your skirt down, the doorbell rings. 
"Ooh you're gonna get it later for this. I know what you're doing. You menace."
He takes long strides, aiming for the front door, and opens it with a single swing. 
"Eddie!" 
"Well, you would be first eh? Welcome, bro." 
Squinting at the doorway, all you can see is the shiny white plastic of a stormtrooper costume. 
A rather muffled voice emanates from the helmet. "Well, I've got to be on time, and meet this girl of yours. Good evening ma'am." He storms quite aptly into your apartment, sections of armour rapping with a dull noise. 
Don't say it, don't say it, don't say it. I'm gonna say it. 
"Aren't you a little short for a stormtrooper?" 
The man in front of you struggles out of the white helmet, shakes out a mane of curly brunette hair and announces to Eddie, "marry her. Immediately." 
Eddie laughs and swings his arm around your shoulders, pulling you towards him so he can plant an affectionate kiss to your forehead. The stormtrooper pulls his white gauntlet off and gives you a keen but sweaty handshake. 
"Dustin. Dustin Henderson. I'm Eddie's best friend." 
"No you aren't." 
"Er, yeah I am. Duh." 
You laugh at their ongoing argument and gesture to invite him in. As he walks past, rambling about the size of the place and everything that Eddie's missed back home, you grip Eddie by the shoulder lightly, stealing his movements briefly. 
Keeping your voice low, just for him, you say "Just, before this all starts, I wanted to ask if there's anything you wanted later tonight? You know, special, for your birthday?" 
Eddie chuckles lowly as his hand engulfs your own. The other grips you firmly by the chin, forcing your doe eyes to meet his black steely glare, contacts magnifying his dominance. 
"Oh sweet thing, there's only one thing I want you to do tonight." 
Cocking your head with an unasked question, Eddie grins and bends to whisper hot breath in your ear. Just one word. One word is all he needs. 
"Obey." 
As quickly as it's said, he's gone, walking after Dustin with long strides, talking about back home. He's left you standing dumbly in the doorway; thighs clenched, mouth dry, with a hot blush creeping up your neck. 
Trying to take soothing, calm breaths, you walk back into the apartment on almost wobbling legs. That is until the doorbell goes again. This time, it's Eddie's bandmates and manager. 
The stream of party goers continues steadily and you spend your time meeting, greeting, dumping coats, and fixing drinks. The server within you goes on autopilot helping with every little thing. That is until you hear Eddie's laugh across the room, clear as a bell. 
He's standing with Dustin and some other guy you don't recognise. Thinking it was about time you checked in, you move to walk over when a snippet of their conversation stops you dead in your tracks. 
"So, I thought you were bringing Harrington? Haven't seen him in ages." 
"Well he was gonna, but Nance went into labour. Kid number six. Can you believe that?" 
"Six? Jesus H Christ, he doesn't mess around!" 
"Oh, he told me to ask you specifically, 'when is that freak gonna finally settle down and have kids?' His words, not mine, trust me!" 
Eddie chuckles. "Tell him, soon." 
It's as if someone had stabbed an icicle through your heart. All the blood drains from your face in absolute shock. Mouth gaping for a moment, you spin on your heel and make your way to your bedroom.
Closing the door to shut out the noise of the party, you perch on the end of the bed, trying and failing to gather your thoughts. 
Kids? Eddie Munson wants kids? There had been no inclinations, no hints at that at all. Honestly, you were so sure deep in the marrow of your bones that he didn't that you hadn't even thought to ask. 
Trying to gulp down the lump of panic that threatened to rise in your throat, you force yourself to stop your hands wringing and take deep breaths. This isn't the time to panic. This is the time to talk. 
Steeling your rattling nerves, you stand up in a false confident motion and make your way to the door, just as Eddie ploughs through it. 
"Sweet thing, I thought I saw you run in here. You good? Party too much?" A concerned hand cups your cheek in the gentlest manner, belying his outward demonic appearance. 
"I'm- I'm fine. Well, not fine, exactly." You huff, knowing it's too much for right now, but neither of you were going to feel peace until this conversation was had. 
"Come on then, what's up?" He perches lightly on the edge of your shared bed, patting the space next to him openly. 
You sit, hand automatically seeking his, entwining his digits with your own. Looking down at your conjoined hands you breathe, and breathe, and speak. 
"Listen, I get it, if you want kids I understand. It's just I know I've said I was good with marriage but kids are something I've never wanted myself and I know it'll come between us and if you want to end things I understand but I-" 
"Woah, woah there sweet thing, slow down. What are you saying?" 
You stop to breathe again, in an attempt to cease the incoherent rambling threatening to control your tongue.
"I'm saying if you want to break up with me I get it. I didn't know you wanted a family." 
A bubble of a chuckle spills out from Eddie's chest, making you flinch. How could he laugh at a time like this? You feel your cheeks flash with crimson fury. 
"I do not think it's funny Eddie." 
"Well I do, pretty girl." 
You whip your head to face him, rage threatening to broil over, staring incredulously. That is until he speaks. 
"I don't want kids sweets. Where's this come from?" 
You gape, mouth opening and closing like a caught fish. 
"I- what? You just said, to Dustin! You told him ‘soon’!" 
A full belly laugh consumes Eddie then, face creasing with the effort. You attempt to pull your hand from his in frustration but it just makes him grip on all the tighter. 
"I'm sorry, sweets, let me explain. I always say that to Steve. It's kind of an in joke. Any time he tells me I need to settle down and have kids, I always tell him 'soon'. He knows I don't want kids, I've told him enough times. I'm sorry, it's just a running gag. I didn't mean to upset you." 
"Well, now, now I feel stupid." You toss your head back to stare at the ceiling, willing the unnecessary tears to flee before they ruin your makeup. 
"Hey, you're not stupid. Look at me." 
Nothing could stop his ironclad voice gripping you and turning your head as if it were mechanical. 
"It's a misunderstanding. Glad we caught it before it got out of hand. I'm not letting you go sweetheart. You're worth way more than some imaginary kids." 
A weak smile dances across your lips. Eddie reaches out a calloused thumb to rub an errant tear away. 
"Look at you, pretty girl, getting all worried. C'mere." You crawl into his lap, swaddled in strong arms. Safe. 
Gripping your chin he tilts your face into an all encompassing kiss. The noise of the party lies forgotten outside, unimportant. Lips move sensually as one, tongues reaching out to stroke each other. 
Eddie pulls away gently, black contact-lensed eyes sparkling devilishly. 
"We best leave and get these presents out the way, or I'm never leaving this bedroom." 
He winks and helps you out of his lap gently, holding out a strong hand to help you to your feet. 
"Oh shit, sorry sweets." Pointing at your front, you follow his finger and notice the smudge of fake blood on the pristine white of your top. 
"Well, that was inevitable." Shrugging it off, you move your way to the door, turning to take in his taunt frame one last time in private, before you have to share him again. 
The next couple of hours whizz by in a whirlwind of Halloween music, pleasing platitudes and jaw aching smiles. The presents Eddie receives are vast and thoughtful, so much so that it makes you doubt your own gift.
Finally, he puts a 20 year old bottle of scotch to the side, a gift from John, his manager, and looks to open yours. Your heart sits heavily in your throat in anticipation.
Ripping the wrapping away, Eddie freezes in his tracks, hands hovering as if paused. 
Cringing at the awkwardness of the silence you can't help but attempt to fill it with meaning. 
"I know it's the same as the guitar you had to sell ages ago, and I just wanted it to be special, you know? So I asked John and he pulled some strings." 
The N.J series Warlock shines almost evilly in red and black, the erratically curved body glossily gleaming in the light. All apart from the matt black signature clearly on display. 
"Is this- is this Kirk Hammett's signature? As in, Kirk Hammett? Metallica's Kirk Hammett? How?" 
You blush at his piercing gaze, eyes looking down and away. 
"Well, I found the guitar, and John got in touch with their agent and I had a chat with their manager, told them how much of a fan you are, and sorted it all. Do you like it?" 
"You have no idea, sweets. That's the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. This is the best gift I've ever got. Thank you." He reaches out to compulsively stroke your knuckles with his rough fingertips, eyes glossing over. 
After another hour or so the party eventually dies down. The last to leave is Dustin, after several promises that you will both visit Indiana soon and participate in a Dungeons and Dragons one shot with the old Hellfire gang. 
At long last, the front door is shut, and all is silent. You let out a breath you weren't aware you were holding and walk towards the kitchen to start cleaning up. That is until a large hand wraps round the entirety of your wrist, stilling your movements immediately.
"What do you think you're doing, pretty girl?" 
A flush creeps up the expanse of your neck, threatening to spill out onto your cheeks. 
"I was- I thought I'd tidy up a bit, you know?" 
"Sweet thing, we can sort this out tomorrow, together. You need to get in the bedroom. Right now." 
For a moment you pause, a glass in each hand, halted in your activity. Eddie's large palm cups your cheek in the most delicate of manners. Hot breath permeates your space; a gust of suffocating heat that draws all air from your lungs. 
"Did I stutter?" 
You take in a sharp breath, eyes focusing on his firm gaze, his muscular frame, his horns. You place the glasses you're holding on the nearest sideboard and hustle your way to the bedroom. 
Perching feather light on the edge of the bed, you clench your thighs in anticipation, not daring to strip off any clothes, waiting for his say so. It's unclear exactly when Eddie's word became unimpeachable, yet here you were, unwilling to untie your shoe without his permission. If it were anyone else you may find it within you to be embarrassed, but it was Eddie. You trusted him with every fibre of your being. He had you listening to him without question, because of the respect you had both fostered for each other. Something about him giving orders pressed your thighs together with urgent need. 
The door swings open and Eddie strides in. You gaze up at him with wide eyes, staring at his muscular torso with inescapable want. Every nerve ending was singing with his previous word. Obey.
"Well look at you. Must be my birthday." Eddie smiles. It spreads across his face stickily, like warm wax and honey, drawing you in with its seemingly sweet demeanour. 
"What do you want from me baby?" You blink at him, eyes round and wet and innocent. 
"Well, I suppose you can make up for the teasing from earlier." He smirks and sits down on the edge of the bed, patting his knee in an effort to make you join him. 
Staring at him cluelessly, Eddie tires of your games and manhandles you into position. A gasp escapes your lips when you find yourself bent over his knee with your ass unceremoniously in the air, practically begging for his succour. 
Eddie flips your stark white skirt up to expose your lacy french knickers. 
"Well, look at these pretty, pretty things. Pity you were such a tease earlier. Five on each cheek, seems fair right?" 
A harsh breath expands your lungs in shock at his words. 
“You've never done that many before.”
“You’ve never deserved it before.”
"I wasn't, I wasn't that bad baby. Please." 
Eddie's laugh vibrates through the flesh of your thighs. 
"Oh sweet girl, I think you know how bad you've been. So just do what I told you to do and obey, or it'll be ten for each cheek, ok sweetheart?" 
Every fibre of your lower being threads together, tensing with the threat.
"Ok ok, I'm sorry baby." 
"Good girl. See, I knew you had it in you." 
He doesn't bother with further words, just spreads your ass over his thighs. 
The first is little more than a tap, a teasing gesture to warm you up to the idea. You lay across him as still as possible, trying to will your muscles not to clench. The second is harder, the third harder still. Then the fourth happens. A proper spank, you feel it deep in the muscle of your ass. As soon as his large hand makes contact an involuntary mewling noise escapes your lips, high pitched and whiny. 
“You OK sweet thing? Colour?” Eddie says, referring to your safe word system whilst rubbing softly over the impact, soothing away the sting. 
“Yes Sir, green.” 
Eddie lets out a self satisfied hum with the honorific. 
“There’s my good girl.”
The shock of the fifth strike rips a moan from your throat, laced with need. 
“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you enjoyed that.” Eddie’s voice reaches you, laden with something akin to pride. 
“I mean maybe, a little.” You can’t escape the blush that reaches to the roots of your hair. 
“Maybe, huh? Want me to stop?”
“No!” You exclaim at once, all embarrassment forgotten.
Eddie’s deep laugh at your eagerness vibrates from his tensing thighs into the flesh of your stomach. 
“Atta girl, doing so good for me.” You try to control the way you want to squirm at the warmth of his words, face heating at the praise. 
Suddenly, he delivers two quick slaps to the other cheek making you tense up; a strangled shocked noise forces itself out of your mouth. Eddie chuckles, soothing the red mark with gentle touches. His hand slips under the fabric of your panties stroking at the tender skin. 
“Mind if I take these off, pretty girl?” 
“N-no, that’s fine.” you lift yourself in the air, allowing him to roll your underwear off. You can’t help but cringe at the way they stick to your aroused heat, clinging to your core with the evidence of your desire. 
“Fuck, these are soaked, sweet thing. I  knew you were into this.” He hums, pleased with himself, and delivers another sharp smack to your ass, eliciting a whine from you. “Just two more sweets. Are you gonna be good for me?” 
“Yes, please Eddie, please.” 
The final smacks come down hard; the sting ringing across your skin in a ripple of white hot pain that borders on pleasure. Your fingers curl tightly shut, eyes squeezing small tears out of the corners. 
“That’s it, pretty girl, all done. Such a good girl, taking it so well.” 
You clamber off his lap, wiping at an errant tear. Moving to sit, you wince at the contact of your sore skin on the mattress. 
“I’m sorry sweets, is it too sore? Here, get on your hands and knees for me. I need to taste my favourite thing.” He grins at you. 
“Don't you want me to look after you? It’s your birthday.” You frown. 
“No need to worry your pretty head about it, you know I want to.” 
Easing yourself into position, you baulk at the sudden feeling of his tongue running through your folds. This position feels different and dirty; you’re entirely exposed to him. At his mercy. 
Arching your back, you can’t help but push into his tongue, feeling his piercing run across you, slathering your cunt with his spit, making it even wetter than before. He slides it inside, fucking into you, before slipping out and running his tongue up to your ass. The unexpected feeling shakes you; being entirely inexperienced with any anal play you're surprised at how much you like it, how much your body wants to chase the feeling of his tongue. Moaning and shamelessly pushing back into him, you feel your core begin to ignite, threatening to blaze throughout your body. 
Feeling the coarseness of Eddie’s fingertips rubbing against your clit, your ceaseless mewling grows louder, warmth pooling in your belly. 
“Oh yes Eddie, please, don’t stop!” You plead, as if he were about to halt his movements. Nothing could have stopped him at this point; he was just as intent at pushing you over the edge as you were in falling over it. 
Eddie’s tongue continues to tease and lap at your hole as you struggle to keep upright, knees wanting to buckle from the sheer volume of sensations coursing their way through you. Your sounds are desperate and hoarse; you’ve been so loud it's straining your throat. 
Finally, the cord snaps and a wave of intense pleasure flows out of you, rippling over each nerve, winding its way over and around you, engulfing you in its warm glow. 
Unable to keep your own head upright, your body sinks into the mattress, ass up, in an obscene mannequin’s pose. You don’t find it in you to care, still coming down from the intensity of your orgasm. 
“That good for you, pretty girl?” 
You make a noise, almost an ‘uh huh’. Eddie chuckles and begins stripping off his clothes. You hear his jeans and shirt hit the floor with a soft noise. 
“I didn’t know you were into that; you’re just full of surprises, sweets. My filthy fuckin’ angel.” 
You turn to face him, sprawled out unceremoniously on the bed. You fling your arm underneath you in order to hold yourself as upright as you can manage right now. 
“Honestly, I didn’t know I was into that. You’re corrupting me, Mr Munson.” 
Eddie smiles like the devil himself. 
“Say it again.” 
Furrowing your brow, you glance at him with a questioning gaze.
“You’re corrupting me?” 
“Fuck, why is that so hot.”
He shakes his head, almost with disbelief, as he discards his underwear and lays down. He’s still wearing the horns, protruding from his head like some demonic entity. Seeing him laying there, with the black contacts still in, positively smothered with fake blood, dark tattoos and a thin sheen of sweat, you could almost believe he was a demon. You certainly weren't thinking angelic thoughts right now. 
“So, angel, you gonna strip for me?” Eddie’s smile is encumbered with his desires, teeth flashing crudely. 
Face flushing scarlet, you move to start taking your wings off. It’s Eddie’s turn to blush. 
“Can- can you keep those on? I kinda like the idea of fucking an angel.” 
Giggling shyly, you strip off entirely, and put the angel wings back on. You leave the halo too. He may as well get the full experience. 
“C’mere.” Eddie gestures with grabbing hands, asking you to climb on top of him. 
“Eddie I don’t think I-” 
“Just come here. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you. Just want a good view.” 
You scramble unsurely onto his lap on wobbly legs, soaking wet heat rubbing against his throbbing member. Eddie’s large, rough palms massage calming motions into the fat of your hips, making you feel more secure. 
Sinking down onto his massive length, you bite your lip at the stretch, velvet quivering walls swallowing him whole; besmearing his length in your sticky slick. 
“Eddie, I-I can’t, my legs-'' Your bottom lip shakes, knowing you don’t have the strength to ride him like he deserves. 
“Hey, pretty girl, I’ve got you, it’s alright.” Each of his huge hands engulf your ass as he picks you up bodily and slams you back down against his pubic bone, cock buried deep within you, knocking all the air out of your lungs with the sheer force of the thrust. Your fake wings shake as if they were attempting to flutter towards the stars. Only it doesn’t stop. Eddie keeps slamming you into him, coarse pubic hair teasing your swollen clit, the hard thrusts feeling heavenly; each singular movement hitting that spot inside so deep it’s making you see God. 
“Oh my- Oh my God, yes!”
Your mewling cries are proliferating with each heavy propulsion into your sopping heat. Struggling to keep your head upright, you feel it lolling to the side, overridden by the utter depravity of each drive into your begging cunt. 
“That’s it, fuck yes, I’m your fuckin’ God now. Take it, my filthy fuckin’ angel. So tight for me.” Eddie’s thrusts into you increase in power, propelling into you with an obscene squelching sound. The fluttering of your satin walls only intensifies at his filthy words, sending a deep shudder into the depths of your core. Your walls uncontrollably twitch around his imposing length, shattering any hope you had of keeping composure. 
Without further warning, the dam breaks. An intense flow of celestial light traverses throughout your every vein, your pussy desperately clamping around him, threatening to never let go. This feeling, this majesty of enamour, is something you wish to never see the end of. The intensity of it shocks you to your very core and washes away all previous versions of yourself, leaving you with you; here and now, a you that nothing else could ever contend with. A you that is his; owned by Eddie, through and through. 
A few quick thrusts and Eddie is following you, painting your insides with the throbbing mess of his release. Sinking onto his chest, you snuggle close to him; fake blood and all. 
“Well sweets, we’re a fuckin’ mess.” Eddie chuckles, gesticulating at the myriad of bodily fluids and Halloween blood that coats you both. 
“I know, baby. Five more minutes?” You gaze at him with expectant eyes. 
“Anything for you, pretty girl. Plus, we should shower together. We've not crossed the bathroom off the list." He winks.
********************
Today’s the day. One year since your impromptu date with Eddie. One year since you were unable to get this man off of your mind. One year since your life had been turned upside down, in the best of ways. 
“Sound check! Come on guys, let’s get this rolling!” 
You’d been hanging out backstage with Eddie and the rest of the band, helping them set up for what looks to be their most popular show yet. It hadn’t been the plan for your anniversary, of course. Eddie had made a point of letting you know that; but tour dates had changed and you had felt that it was easier for you to make a compromise than it was for the rest of the band, not to mention the hundreds of people watching them perform. 
Their band, Tongue Tattoo, had braced the edges of obscurity and were suddenly thrust into the limelight with relatively no warning, as these things often develop. The pride you felt when watching him perform was unmatched. Unfortunately, you couldn’t help the niggling need to have him to yourself on your anniversary, but knowing Eddie, you had no doubt in your mind that he would make up for it with alacrity. 
“Hey, sweet thing” 
Turning to face him, you see your gorgeous partner Eddie, kitted out in leatherette pants and a mesh shirt, looking as delectable as ever. 
“Hey baby” you envelop his lips with the sweetest kiss. 
“Can you do me a favour, pretty girl? The crowd’s just getting too big. Can you stay backstage? On the sides is fine, I just don’t want you near the pit. It’s too much.” 
You frown, but nod your agreement. It was a lot, and you wanted to stay safe, if only for him. 
“Atta girl. I’ll be looking for you, OK?” 
“Sure baby, I’ll be there.” 
He smiles warmly at you whilst planting a soft kiss to your knuckles. You can’t help but watch him walk away, eyes trained on the expanse of his muscled back. 
Feeling like a spare part, you do your best to stay out of the way of everyone trying to set up for the show. The intense, out of order shout of everyone attempting to execute roles to little effect was draining on you. 
“Hey, Eddie said you were staying backstage.”
John, Eddie’s manager, called out to you, an unlit cigar clamped firmly between his teeth. There was something a bit too slick, too neat about him, but you suspected this was just a trend of band managers. He had always been sweet to you, especially when fixing Eddie’s most recent gift. 
“John! Thank God, I’m sorry, I think I’m in the way.” You shrug, heat blossoming on the apples of your cheeks. 
“Not at all girl, all these guys are in your way, OK? Come stand over here, stage right, you can still see the show, and not be bothered by all these sweaty roadies, OK doll?” He flashes a greasy grin, proffering a hand. You take it gratefully and stand in the pre ordained spot. 
“Thanks John, I don’t wanna be in the way.” 
“Nonsense, everyone else is in the way! You wanna make it in Hollywood, you remember that.” He flashes a grin and moves off to tell someone how to do their job.
Giggling at his confidence, you attempt to manifest some of your own as the lights dim and the rumble of the crowd is thrown into overload. 
Stage lights flicker into life, yellow and purple and red, and you glimpse the side profile of the love of your life. His cheeky side grin, the shimmer off of his hair. His pulsating aura, spreading out and hitting everyone it comes into contact with. 
No matter how many times you see it, how many slightly different manifestations there were, you remain utterly enamoured with their show. The sounds, the sights, the theatrics; it drew you in every time, until your focus was irrefutably on Eddie, and Eddie alone. 
He glowed. There was no other way to describe it. He was a luminous being, not this crude matter. Every pore of his seemed to exude this all encompassing sexual energy which quickly drew you in and made you impervious to any other energies surrounding him. 
The show, as predicted, was phenomenal. Towards the end of the encore, you look to make your way on pre-programmed legs to Eddie’s dressing room, hovering further back from your viewing spot. He's pulling his guitar strap over his head and placing it down reverently; except, Eddie’s not leaving. 
"Who wants to meet the prettiest girl in the building?" Eddie's gravelly voice projects into the microphone. You blush profusely as he gestures to you. Reluctantly, you wobble forward, taking a few unsure steps so you're just in view of the crowd. There's a rumble of applause and cheers from the fans, waving and shouting at your presence. Glancing out at a sea of faces you can't help but feel overwhelmed.
Eddie reaches his hand out to give you an encouraging squeeze which you accept gladly. 
"Our last song is dedicated to you, sweet thing." 
The band starts playing a slow number which sounds vaguely familiar; you can't quite place it at first, until Eddie starts singing. 
"When you were here before
Couldn't look you in the eye
You're just like an angel…" 
It's Creep, by Radiohead. One of your favourite songs. You didn't even know he knew that. Their version is heavier; it has a bite, an edge to it. Paired with Eddie's husky singing it quickly becomes your favourite version. 
He winks at you, half of the time singing just for you, the other half playing up to the crowd. 
"But I'm a creep
I'm a weirdo!" 
You giggle as he shouts into the microphone, harsh voice juxtaposing the melodic sound of the verse before it. Finishing the chorus, he strides over to you and grabs your hand, guiding you gently to the front of the stage. 
"Eddie, what are you-" 
Dropping his voice, low and quiet, he stares into your eyes. 
"Whatever makes you happy
Whatever you want." 
There's a sparkle to his eyes, a softness that threatens to spill down his cheeks for the world to see. Then, he kneels in front of you, pulling a ring box from his shirt pocket. 
Time stops. Nothing as crass as seconds can possibly take place in this undying moment. The roar from the crowd echoes; rippling off the soundless bubble encompassing you both. It's trivial; barely registering. The moment stretches and lingers; you know it'll remain eternally in some way, an ouroboros; always there in your mind's eye. 
Realising you're holding your breath, you take in a ragged gulp of air. It triggers the gathering tears that start to fall from saturated eyelashes. 
"Sweet thing, you're so fuckin' special. You've left your mark on my heart, more permanent than any tattoo. I need you with me, for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?" 
"Yes, yes, of course!" You hurl yourself to his level, knees buckling, throwing your arms around his neck with abandon. 
Kissing and kissing and kissing him, he breaks away briefly. 
"Do you want to see the ring?" He chuckles into the mic, eliciting a ripple of giggles in the hall. 
Holding out your hand, he slides the ring onto your finger. A beautiful piece; it has a  white gold, almost vine-like band, with a stunning ruby set in the centre. It reminds you of a rose. 
"It's beautiful Eddie, thank you." 
Eddie grins, says "Thank you and good night" to the audience before abandoning the mic and scooping you up in his arms, taking you utterly by surprise. 
"Eddie! Jesus-" 
"Hold on, sweets, I need you." He smiles deviously at you, making his way across the stage with large strides to whisk you away somewhere private. 
You smile at his antics and fling your arms around his neck, nuzzling close. Some things, you hope, will never change. 
Masterlist
Tag list Part 1- rest in the comments due to Tumblr restrictions!
@angelsarecallin @cutiecusp @pxrxcxa @spencerinmydrawls @munsquinns @sillypurplemurple @tiannamortis @walleloveseve @sinczir @biblichornerd @frogers @lauraasiain @madiisixx @leftdonkeygothgoop-blog @rafestarkeysblog @kittykatvenom @southside-serpent-bae @psychedelicsandsunsalutations @biblichornerd @angelina16torres-blog
1K notes · View notes
quietfears · 1 month
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
SPEAK NOW (TAYLOR'S VERSION) I wanted to get better, to challenge myself, and to build on my skills as a writer, an artist, and a performer. I didn’t want to just be handed respect and acceptance in my field, I wanted to earn it. To try and confront these demons, I underwent extensive vocal training and made a decision that would completely define this album: I decided I would write it entirely on my own. I figured, they couldn’t give all the credit to my cowriters if there weren’t any. But that posed a new challenge: It really had to be good. If it wasn’t, I would be proving my critics right.
194 notes · View notes
bird-enthusiast-hq · 4 months
Text
Female Dabbling Ducks: The American Black Duck
Tumblr media
The American Black Duck is a large and bulky duck that lives in Eastern North America but can show up rarely in the Central states as well. Though not nearly as common as its close relative, the Mallard, understanding how to tell between these species is a crucial part of North American birding. Once you learn these tips, it makes scanning flocks of mallards into a fun challenge!
Size: Large
Shape: Boxy
Beak: Variable, from a dull olive to a bright yellow
Legs: Bright orange
Colors: Darkest dabbler; even chocolate brown with fine mottling on the chest and a noticeable eye-stripe.
Speculum: Deep blue to purple with black bars, not white (DISTINCTIVE)
Other features: it's unlikely you'll mistake the ABD for anything besides a mallard, a bird I covered in a previous post. Just remember, they're darker than every other dabbler and have a unique speculum. However, depending on where you live, take great care to separate this species from the Mottled Duck, a southern species. They have a white face that a body that isn't as dark.
In flight, they're similar to mallards with white underwings and wingbeats you can count. They're quick, but not as blazing fast as teals or as slim as some other larger species.
~~~
To get some experience with these birds, go out and look for flocks of mallards in freshwater ponds or marshes (they may be in saltwater, too). Find a duck that's uniquely dark--they won't outnumber the mallards. Be wary of hybrids between the two.
More female dabbler identification coming soon.
275 notes · View notes