#vy’s milestones

[donkey-hyuck]

29 followers till NINE HUNDRED???!!!!!?!?!??!??!!??!?!

[fyodere]

actor!dazai au + hate fucking

I hope nobody catch us (but I kinda hope they catch us)

“she wanna go viral . . ?

keep fucking for hours

that pussy got power ”

— P POWER

₍^. .^₎⟆ ── content warnings / tags : nsfw content (mdni), actor!au, dazai is mean, nasty absolutely filthy smut, reader is a new name on acting scene, semi public sex, child star dazai, rivals with benefits, hate fucking, petnames, degradation, dazai is a sadic, unprotected sex, dirt talk, light dom/sub dynamic ♡

﹙ 🔪 ﹚── synopsis : Fighting for a spot on the entertainment industry was rough, but co-staring another film with Dazai was rougher.

Now you’re at the after party, all the paparazzi and interviewers are gone. You can finally relax now. At least, that was what you thought.

“Meet me in the bathroom.” Dazai whispered to you and quickly vanished, you were used to his superstar behavior, but it still annoys you.

You always fight on set and hate each other. What’s up with him now?

﹙ 🧥 ﹚── author's note : OKAY IM SO EXCITED FOR THIS i absolutely loved writing the whole rivals with benefits thing. it’s just too hot. i hope y’all enjoy it <3 my requests are always open so don’t be shy!

. . . ꒰ ꐦ › ﾛ ‹ ꒱

Fighting for a spot on the entertainment industry was rough, but co-staring another film with Osamu Dazai was rougher. For years, you had clawed your way through auditions, rejections, and fleeting moments of success, all in pursuit of that elusive breakthrough role. And just when you thought you had finally made it, fate threw you yet another curveball: co-starring in another film with the enigmatic and notoriously difficult Dazai Osamu.

The after-party buzzed with energy as celebrities mingled, champagne flowed, and laughter filled the air. For you, it was both a relief and a moment of triumph. Landing a role alongside the enigmatic Osamu was a career milestone, but it came with its own set of challenges.

As you sipped your drink, a familiar voice cut through the chatter. It was Dazai, his dark eyes glinting mischievously as he beckoned you with a subtle gesture. You rolled your eyes, accustomed to his dramatic antics. Despite their on-screen chemistry, behind the scenes, you both clashed like oil and water.

Reluctantly, you slipped away from the crowd, your curiosity piqued by Dazai's clandestine summons.

The tension between you and Dazai was palpable from day one of filming. Both of you were fiercely talented and fiercely competitive, each vying for the spotlight in every scene. The set became a battleground of egos, with sparks flying whenever your characters shared the screen.

Now, amidst the glitz and glamour of the after-party, with the paparazzi and interviewers finally gone, you hoped for a moment of respite. But as you leaned against the bar, nursing a cocktail and trying to unwind.

As the night wore on, you found yourself swept up in Dazai's whirlwind scheme, the lines between enemy and ally blurring in the face of ambition. And as you stood on the precipice of this daring venture, you realized that sometimes, the greatest battles were fought not on the silver screen, but behind the scenes, in the shadows where dreams and egos collided.

Dazai was a star since childhood. After starring in a movie at the age of 5, his career was an unstoppable ascent with no contenders. Every role, every appearance, no matter how small, made the project take off. Having Osamu in a project was synonymous with success.

At least, it was until he turned 15.

At 15, Dazai found himself on a thin line brought about by the consequences of fame. Surrounded by a world of drinks and nighttime dangers, Dazai felt embraced by the dark side of fame.

At 18, Osamu stepped away from his acting career. He needed a break from the spotlight and to clean himself from all the vices he had started in his adolescence. The media portrayed him as a comet in eruption disguised as a shooting star—if the media didn't want Dazai Osamu, then it wouldn't have him. Dazai distanced himself from screens and public scrutiny.

Now, at 22, Osamu was preparing for his comeback to the prestigious world of cinema, and when the cast was announced, people were stunned. Dazai's return after 4 years away from the stage. The return was so sudden that the media had no choice but to remind the public of Dazai's difficult phase.

His return was in a minor role in a drama film, the same film where you were one of the stars. You're a model represented by Fyodor Dostoevsky who landed this role by chance. It was a simple equation: good agents, beauty, charisma, and connections. There was no way your career could go wrong.

Despite the glitz and glamour of the entertainment industry, the atmosphere on set was anything but glamorous. From the moment filming began, it was clear that the animosity between you and Dazai was more than just a clash of egos—it was a full-blown feud.

Every interaction was laced with tension, each scene a battle for dominance. Behind the camera, snide remarks and passive-aggressive jabs were exchanged with alarming frequency, as you and Dazai vied for control of the spotlight.

But as the days turned into weeks, a begrudging respect began to simmer beneath the surface. Despite your mutual disdain, there was no denying the undeniable chemistry that crackled between you on screen. And as much as you hated to admit it, Dazai's talent was matched only by your own.

Yet, even as you grudgingly acknowledged each other's skill, the bitterness between you remained palpable. Every success felt like a personal affront, every compliment a thinly veiled insult. And as the pressure mounted, so too did the intensity of your rivalry.

But amidst the chaos and conflict, a glimmer of opportunity emerged. As filming progressed, it became increasingly clear that the success of the project hinged on your ability to set aside your differences and work together towards a common goal.

And so, begrudgingly, you and Dazai began to cooperate—not out of friendship or camaraderie, but out of sheer necessity. As the stakes grew higher and the deadline loomed closer, you found yourselves reluctantly setting aside your differences in pursuit of a greater good.

But, returning to the premiere of the film you were starring in: the after party was perfect. Only the most renowned people, the most coveted celebrities, all of it without any paparazzi or interviewer to disrupt the moment. That was the perfect opportunity to establish connections with the big names in the media. But, honestly, at that moment, all you wanted was to enjoy good drinks and soak in the energy of the place, having a well-deserved rest.

Navigating the treacherous waters of the entertainment industry had always been a challenge, but nothing could have prepared you for the tumultuous journey that came with co-starring in another film alongside the enigmatic Dazai. The tension between you two was palpable, a constant undercurrent of rivalry and animosity that colored every interaction.

Now, amidst the glittering lights and pulsating energy of the after party, with the paparazzi and interviewers finally gone, you hoped for a moment of respite. A chance to unwind and revel in the success of the film, to bask in the glow of your hard-earned achievements. But fate had other plans.

As you sipped your drink, a familiar voice sliced through the air, pulling you from your reverie. It was Dazai, his words laden with urgency and mystery. "Meet me in the bathroom," he murmured, before disappearing into the crowd. His abrupt departure left you both bewildered and irritated, a perfect encapsulation of your tumultuous relationship.

You and Dazai had always clashed on set, your fiery personalities and fierce ambition fueling a rivalry that bordered on hatred. Every scene was a battleground, every interaction a test of wills. And yet, beneath the surface animosity, there was a begrudging respect—a recognition of each other's talent and determination.

But as you made your way to the designated meeting spot, the backstage area cloaked in shadows and secrecy, you couldn't help but wonder what game Dazai was playing now. What could he possibly want from you?

As you rounded the corner, you found Dazai waiting for you, his expression inscrutable. The air crackled with tension, the weight of unspoken words hanging between you like a veil. And in that moment, you realized that whatever lay ahead, it would be anything but predictable.

You walked to the bathroom concerned. What the hell Dazai would want with you? You hate to admit it, but you’re kind of curious.

“Oh, well.” You said looking at the tall man with brown hair and mysterious eyes. “The demon prodigy want to talk to me. What an honor. Should I thank God for this?” You said with the voice dripping sarcasm as you roll your eyes.

The bathroom was empty and quiet. The place reeked of cigarette smell. Dazai was waiting there with a slight smile on his face. As soon as he saw you, he quickly put out his cigarette and threw the bud to the dumpster.

“Why so nervous?” His tone was taunting. He was leaning against the wall while talking to you.

“Why wouldn’t I?” You retort. “I’m trying to enjoy this after party but, damn, you really want to ruin everything.”

“Ruining it… or making it more interesting?” Dazai crossed his arms and smirked. His tone was still annoying. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. Like always.” Dazai muttered. You could see he was trying to make you angry.

“I wanted to talk with you in private. Since we’re having another film together. I want to propose something to you, since our reputation is on the line…” He said slowly.

“Our reputation?” You said laughter than you planned. “Oh, please. You’re the one who couldn’t resist to alcohol at 15. You’re the one who fucked up your image to the midia. Don’t put me into your twisted games.”

“Just listen before you go all ‘I hate you!’ On me, I get enough of that from the paparazzi.” Dazai said with a fake laugh.

Dazai stayed silent for a few seconds.

“You know how the rumor mill always says we are both in a relationship?” He sighed. “That’s not a problem to me. In fact, I believe it’s even better for us. I want you to pretend to be my girlfriend and feed the media with the idea that we are dating—“ You abruptly cut him off.

“Oh, don’t even come with this. I get enough bad ideas from my agent. I don’t need even more.”

Dazai's smirk widened at your reaction, his gaze unwavering. "I understand your hesitation, but think about it," he urged, his voice taking on a persuasive tone. "This could be mutually beneficial for both of us. Imagine the headlines, the buzz surrounding our 'relationship.' It would catapult us into the spotlight like never before."

You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. "And what about the fallout when the truth inevitably comes out?" you countered, your tone dripping with skepticism. "We'd be crucified by the media, branded as frauds and manipulators. Is that really the kind of attention you want?"

Dazai's expression softened slightly, a hint of vulnerability flickering in his eyes. "I know it's risky," he admitted, his voice quieter now. "But think about what we could achieve together. With our combined talent and charisma, we could dominate the industry. This could be our ticket to the top."

You hesitated, torn between your reservations and the tantalizing prospect of fame and success. The allure of the spotlight was undeniable, but at what cost? Could you really trust Dazai to have your best interests at heart, or was this just another one of his manipulative schemes?

As you weighed your options, the air between you crackled with tension, the silence stretching taut with unspoken possibilities. And in that moment, you knew that whatever decision you made would irrevocably alter the course of your career—and perhaps your life.

For a moment, you considered leaving, quitting the project before it even began, but the thought of walking away from such a high-profile opportunity filled you with dread. Instead, you looked back at Dazai, your expression unreadable. "I guess I have no choice," you said ironically. "If you insist on being such a jerk, I'll play your game. But remember, you're the one who's going to end up regretting this. Just wait until I show my true colors, and the world sees what a fucking asshole you really are."

With those words, You turned your back on Dazai, ignoring his derisive snort as you walked out of the room. You could feel his eyes burning into your back, and for a moment, you wondered if you had made the right decision. But then you reminded herself that you didn't need to like him; you only needed to tolerate him. After all, there was no way you could afford to lose your job over their petty feud.

Osamu couldn't help but smirk as he watched you storm off, your back rigid with anger and defiance. He had never cared about your opinion, but he still found himself curious about your reaction to his antics. There was something about your fierce determination and independence that intrigued him, and he couldn't help but wonder what would happen if you ever decided to fight back against him.

Without thinking, Dazai grabbed you by the arm. “Hey, I’m still talking to you, belladonna.” He smirked. “Don’t think you could run away from me so easily.”

“Huh? Get lost!” You said firmly. “Don’t you dare touch me.” You gnashed your teeth while stepping closer to him, stepping on his foot.

Dazai’s grin widened as he felt your foot press down on his foot. It was clear that you were furious, and he reveled in the knowledge that he had managed to rile you up so quickly.

"Oh, come on, sweetheart. You know you love it when I tease you like this," he said, trying to sound casual. "It's part of my charm." His smile turned mischievous. "Besides, I think I deserve some credit for getting you to stay after all."

“Oh, don’t be so cheeky.” You said while rolling your eyes. He was still holding your arm, like he didn’t want to let you go.

"I am being cheeky, hmm?" Osamu retorted, his voice low and dangerous. "And you know it. Don't play innocent, sweetheart. We both know you secretly enjoy the attention I give you."

"I do not!" You spat, glaring at him. "You are such a jerk."

"Is that so?" Dazai asked, his tone still light and carefree "I am?" Osamu arched an eyebrow. "You really believe that, don't you?" He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. "You know you want me to keep doing it, right?"

"Shut up! I hate you, demon prodigy. You know how much I dislike you?” You said stepping on his foot even more heavily. Putting your face close to his.

Osamu laughed, the sound harsh and unpleasant. "So, you say you hate me?" He took a step closer, pressing his body against yours. "Well, I hate you too, sweetheart. But we can't seem to get rid of each other, can we?"

He moved his hand up to cup your face, turning your head so their gazes locked. "But that doesn't mean I can't make your life miserable, does it?" Your faces were to close, a single word could make your lips touch.

The air between you seemed to crackle with tension as Dazai looked into your eyes. His thumb brushed over your lower lip, tracing its outline. "If you don't want me to keep bothering you, then you should tell me to stop. If you do, I'll back off and leave you alone."

“Just shut up.” You said and finally pressed your lips against his.

Your tongues tangled together, Dazai's fingers digging into your hair, pulling your head back slightly. He was rough, demanding, and yet there was something undeniably compelling about the kiss.

As if he couldn't help himself, he deepened the kiss, taking control of the situation completely.

Osamu gripped you tightly, using all his strength to hold you in place. When he pulled away, he let out a loud laugh, a harsh bark of humorless mirth. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?" Osamu broke away from the kiss, leaving you panting and gasping for air. His breath was hot against your skin, his eyes dark and hungry.

Osamu smirked, the smug expression making your blood boil. “I think you're enjoying it,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “You know what? I'm going to keep doing it until you beg me to stop.”

He grabbed your hands and pulled you above your head, pinning you against the wall. “Now, let's see how long you can last before you give in to my charms, hmm?”

Dazai leaned in again, pressing his body against yours once more. This time, he didn't use his tongue; instead, he bit down hard on your bottom lip.

“Fuck…” You said between heavy breaths.

“Mmm, that's my girl.” Dazai grinned, showing off his teeth. “Keep screaming out your protests, sweetheart. I love it when you fight me like this. Makes it all the more fun.”

With that, he licked at your lower lip, sucking it into his mouth. Then, he released it, only to bite down harder. The pain was intense, almost unbearable, but it also had a strange sort of pleasure attached to it.

Osamu's hand moved to your breast, cupping it through your dress. He squeezed it gently, then twisted it, causing her nipple to pierce through the fabric. The sensation was both excruciating and exquisite.

“A-Ah! Fuck!” You yelled, tears beginning to form in your eyes.

Osamu laughed softly, his smile growing wider. “You're so cute when you get mad,” he said, still holding onto your breast. “But remember, you asked for this, sweetheart. You wanted to play with the big boys, right?”

He released your breast, letting go of it. Instead, he began to run his fingers up and down your spine, making sure to tease you wherever possible. As he did so, he gave you breasts a rough tug, forcing your chest to arch upwards.

“Now, tell me, do you want me to continue or should I stop?” he asked, his tone casual and nonchalant. Osamu knew that he could push you to the breaking point, but he also knew that you would never say no to him.

You were breathless, your heart racing. Your cheeks were flushed, and you couldn't help but feel hot and bothered by his actions. It was clear that he enjoyed tormenting you, and you found yourself wondering if you should just let him have his way with you.

You hesitated for a moment, trying to decide whether or not to answer his question. Finally, you spoke, your voice barely audible over your panting. “... Fuck. Just keep going.”

Osamu nodded, his grin widening even further. “As you wish, my dear,” he said, giving you another hard pinch between your legs. This time, however, he made sure to rub against your thigh, pressing it against your sensitive flesh.

The sensation was incredibly intense, and it left you feeling exposed and vulnerable. But you didn't seem to mind; instead, you moaned softly, your body reacting to the stimulation.

Dazai's hands roamed across your back, tracing every curve and line. His fingers brushed against your skin, leaving trails of heat and desire in their wake. He grabbed hold of your ass, squeezing it tightly, before giving it a sharp smack.

“I'm going to fuck you, dear.” he whispered, his voice low and seductive. “I'm going to make you mine, and I'll never let you go.”

He leaned in close, his lips brushing against hers.

The sensation of his finger pressing against your entrance made you shudder, your skin feeling sensitive and exposed. It was then that you realized just how vulnerable you was in this situation, and it scared you. But for some reason, it was addictive.

Still, you didn't back away from him, even though you knew he had the power to hurt you. Instead, you just looked at him, you eyes wide and pleading.

“Please, Osamu. Please, keep going.”

Osamu chuckled, his amusement evident in the twinkle of his eyes. He leaned back slightly, keeping his finger pressed firmly against your entrance as he glanced up at you.

“You're adorable when you beg, sweetheart. So cute and pathetic. But you know what? You asked for this, so you get exactly what you deserve.”

Without warning, he pulled his finger out of you, leaving you aching and needy.

Osamu chuckled, his smile wicked and predatory. He continued to tease you, gently rubbing your clit and pushing his finger deeper into you tight hole.

“You're such a good girl, aren't you?” he said, his voice dripping with mockery. “So obedient and submissive, like a dog. Always ready to do whatever your master tells you to do. But I bet you haven't ever asked what your master wants, right? I mean, it's only fair to ask before you start serving him, isn't it?”

The moment he pulled out, you whimpered, your body desperate for more. You wanted to cry out, to beg him to continue, but you knew it would only encourage him further. So instead, you just watched him, waiting for his next move.

As he sat up, you noticed something odd about his expression—it was almost as if he was enjoying himself. And yet, there was something cruel about the way he was treating you, something that made you want to run away from him.

But you couldn't leave. Not when he had you trapped in this bathroom.

“Dazai…” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “What do you want from me?”

Osamu laughed again, a harsh sound that echoed through the small space. His gaze never left hers as he spoke.

“I'm doing this because I hate you,” he said simply. “I think you're a terrible actress, and I can't stand the sight of you. Plus, it's fun to see you squirm and beg for mercy.

He reached over and grabbed your arm, pulling you close enough that your bodies were practically touching. He let go of you, however, and stood up, taking a few steps backward.

“Now, come here, belladonna. I want to fuck you until you beg for my cum.”

You sit down on the cold sink of bathroom and spread your legs, waiting for him.

Osamu smirked at your submission, a dark satisfaction curling deep within him. He walked towards you, his every step heavy with purpose and determination. When he finally reached you, he took hold of your hips and began to push your legs apart, making sure you were fully exposed and vulnerable.

He leaned in close, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered in your ear. “You know how much I hate you, right? Well, I hate you even more when you look like this, all pretty and helpless. It makes me feel powerful.”

With that, he released your hips and took hold of your thighs, lifting them off the ground and exposing your cunt completely.

As soon as he lifted your legs, you could feel his hardness pressing against your sensitive flesh. You shivered, feeling the chill of the air on your most intimate parts. Your heart raced, fear coursing through your veins. But still, you didn't try to stop him or fight back. Instead, you waited, your eyes wide and filled with fear and anticipation.

Osamu smirked once more before pushing into your tight, wet entrance. The sensation was intense, almost painful, but he continued to press forward, slowly filling you with his thick member. He gently rocked his hips, causing his cock to rub against your walls in a way that felt both rough and pleasurable.

As he did so, he couldn't help but grind out words against your neck. “Fuck, you're so tight. You'll be begging for my cum soon enough.”

The pressure inside you grew unbearable, but you tried not to let it show. Instead, you bit your lip and tried to focus on something else, anything else. All you could think about was how much you hated him, how much you wanted to make him suffer. But the thought of doing so only made you feel guilty and ashamed.

Osamu moaned softly, his voice low and rumbling against your neck. His hands clenched tightly onto your thighs, keeping your legs raised and exposed as he continued to pound into your with fierce intensity. He was determined to get what he wanted, and he would do whatever it took to make you suffer.

The sound of his moans echoed throughout the bathroom, the only thing breaking the silence besides their heavy breathing. Despite the fact that he was clearly enjoying himself, there was no love or affection in his actions; rather, it was all fueled by anger and hatred.

The tension in the room was palpable, and you found yourself unable to move or speak. You could feel his cock throbbing inside you, and every time he moved, it caused your insides to writhe and protest. The thought of having sex with someone you hated so much was sickening, but at this point, you had no choice but to endure it.

You tried to bite down on your own lip, hoping to muffle some of the sounds of discomfort that were escaping your mouth. But it was no use; your moans were too loud and too frequent for you to keep quiet. And even though you knew that he would only use it against you later, you couldn't help but give in to the pleasure, however small it may be.

Osamu groaned out loud, his voice rough and strained as he felt his orgasm approaching. It was almost painful, the way he had to force himself to continue moving. But he wouldn't stop until he had finished, and when he finally did, he collapsed on top of you, his weight crushing you against the bathroom sink.

He pulled out of her with a grunt, his eyes still closed as he tried to catch his breath. Then, without warning, he reached up and grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. When you opened your mouth to say something, he cut her off with a harsh glare.

"You think you can get away with your little tricks?" he growled, his tone dark and threatening. "Well, guess again."

He felt his climax approaching, so he released all inside of you, and as soon as you left, Dazai let out a sigh, his face twisting into a scowl. "Fucking hell," he muttered under his breath. "Why does she have to be so difficult? It's like pulling teeth to get anything out of her. This is going to be a nightmare." He plopped down on the couch, rubbing his temples in frustration. "I swear, sometimes I wish I could just strangle her and be done with it."

[contemplatingoutlander]

It appears that Mexico is now the 60th UN member nation who has had a woman as head of state.

It just goes to show how the U.S. is still a very sexist culture. I've always believed that a major reason that Hillary didn't win the electoral vote in 2016 was that too many Americans felt uncomfortable having a highly qualified woman in the Oval Office.

Anyway. Congratulations to Mexico! Below are some excerpts from the NY Times article:

Claudia Sheinbaum, a climate scientist and former mayor of Mexico City, won her nation’s elections on Sunday in a landslide victory that brought a double milestone: She became the first woman, and the first Jewish person, to be elected president of Mexico. Early results indicated that Ms. Sheinbaum, 61, prevailed in what the authorities called the largest election in Mexico’s history, with the highest number of voters taking part and the most seats up for grabs. It was a landmark vote that saw not one, but two, women vying to lead one of the hemisphere’s biggest nations. And it will put a Jewish leader at the helm of one of the world’s largest predominantly Catholic countries. Ms. Sheinbaum, a leftist, campaigned on a vow to continue the legacy of Mexico’s current president and her mentor, Andrés Manuel López Obrador, which delighted their party’s base — and raised alarm among detractors. The election was seen by many as a referendum on his leadership, and her victory was a clear vote of confidence in Mr. López Obrador and the party he started. Mr. López Obrador has completely reshaped Mexican politics. During his tenure, millions of Mexicans were lifted out of poverty and the minimum wage doubled. But he has also been a deeply polarizing president, criticized for failing to control rampant cartel violence, for hobbling the nation’s health system and for persistently undercutting democratic institutions. Still, Mr. López Obrador remains widely popular and his enduring appeal propelled his chosen successor. And for all the challenges facing the country, the opposition was unable to persuade Mexicans that their candidate was a better option.

[edited]

[pinchofhoney]

Hiii! Can you do "god, sometimes it's so hard to... to not kiss you, you know?" with Pedro Pascal? Thank you! 🥰 Congratulations on reaching this milestone!

don't stand so close to me # 200 follower special event

» prompt event » special events masterlist

gif is not mine, credit to the owner

pedro pascal x fem!reader

word count: 1.2k

warning: it's a fluff but might be slightly suggestive

summary: There's always been an air of excitement surrounding secret relationships.

a/n: hi hello, and thank you!!<33 thank you for joining the event! this piece of writing wasn't supposed to go in the direction it went, but i'm not complaining, y'know. let me tell you, i was giggling while writing the last scenes

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

taglist: @wolfmoonmusic @alexxavicry @babypeapoddd @domaniquessidehoe @one-sweet-gubler

The night sky was a canvas of twinkling stars, each one shining as bright as the next. Hollywood was bustling with life and excitement, as the highly anticipated Academy Awards was underway. You never imagined being part of such a grand event, as you often preferred the comfort of your own home while watching it on TV. Tonight, however, was going to be different, because your boyfriend was going to be one of the presenters and he wanted you to be by his side.

As you stepped out onto the red carpet, the energy was electrifying. The atmosphere was abuzz with people, cameras flashing, and voices echoing through the air. All eyes were on the biggest names in the entertainment industry, and tonight, Pedro was one of them. As he emerged from the car, he was immediately surrounded by a swarm of reporters and fans, all vying for his attention. But Pedro remained cool and collected, flashing his infectious grin.

Pedro was one of the most popular actors at the moment, known for his quick wit and charm. He was dressed to impress, donning a sleek black Gucci suit and stylish hand jewelry that complemented his rugged good looks. You couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and admiration as you stood by his side, watching him navigate the sea of people with ease. Tonight was a night to remember, and you were grateful to be a part of it all with Pedro.

But as much as he loved the spotlight, there was only one person he had on his mind as he walked down the red carpet – you. Your relationship had been a secret for almost a year, and Pedro was determined to keep it that way. He knew that being in the public eye came with intense scrutiny and didn't want to subject you to the same level of lack of daily privacy as he did.

As you walked down the red carpet together, Pedro couldn't help but steal glances at you. You looked absolutely stunning in a black gown that hugged your curves in all the right places. Your hair was styled in natural waves, cascading gently over your shoulders. Pedro felt a tug of pride and admiration as he looked at you, knowing that you were the one person who truly mattered to him.

The cameras clicked away as you posed for photos together, Pedro wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you close. He wanted to show the world that you were the most important person in his life, even if they didn't know the extent of your relationship.

As you approached the end of the red carpet, Pedro leaned in close to you, his breath hot on your ear. “God, sometimes it's so hard to... to not kiss you, you know?” he whispered. Your eyes widened in surprise, and you couldn't help but blush bright red. You knew that you had to be careful not to reveal your relationship in front of the cameras. If it had happened at the Oscars, everyone would have been talking about it, especially since Pedro was now a hot topic. But he just grinned and took your hand, leading you out of the public's view and into the theater.

As you got comfortable in your seats, Pedro found himself unable to resist stealing quick glimpses at you. He reached over to take your hand, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over the back of your hand. You knew that he was nervous about his presentation, but he seemed to find comfort in the fact that you were there by his side.

As the show went on, Pedro lost himself in the excitement and energy of the night. He cheered on his friends and colleagues, clapping and laughing and joking around. But as the night wore on, he found himself growing increasingly distracted. He couldn't stop thinking about you, about how stunning you looked in that tight-fitting dress, he much he loved you and how badly he wanted to be alone with you, away from the flashing cameras and the adoring fans.

Finally, as the show drew to a close and the winners were announced, Pedro's desire to return home was getting closer to coming true. It had been a long night with a lot of people surrounding him from all sides, and even his puppy personality needed a break. But all that mattered all the time was that he was there with you, the woman he loved more than anything in the world.

As you left the theater and made your way back to the car, Pedro kept his arm around you, looking at you with a mix of love and playful frustration. “I know we have to keep our relationship a secret,” he said quietly. “But I don't want to hide anymore. I want to shout it from the rooftops. You can't even imagine how hard it is for me to keep my hands to myself.”

You chuckled, knowing exactly what he meant. Pedro had always been a bit of a flirt, and you loved teasing him about it. “A little self-discipline hasn't hurt anyone yet.”

Pedro grinned, his eyes sparkling mischievously. “Oh, I have plenty of self-discipline,” he said, leaning in closer to your ear. “I just choose not to use it when it comes to you.” You couldn't help but feel a flutter in your stomach at his words. There was something about the way he looked at you, like you were the only person in the world who mattered to him, that made you feel so loved and cherished. The chemistry between you two was undeniable, and keeping it a secret only added to the excitement. But you knew the risks of revealing your relationship – the paparazzi would be all over you, and you didn't want to be the center of attention like that.

As you climbed into the car, Pedro couldn't resist stealing a quick kiss before settling into his seat. You both knew the drive home would be quiet as the exhaustion of the night was finally setting in. You leaned back in your seat, letting out a contented sigh. The warmth of Pedro's hand on your thigh, as he drive, was all you needed to feel safe and loved. As the car drove through the city, you looked out the window, watching the lights flash by. You couldn't help but think about how lucky you were to have found someone like Pedro. He was charming, talented, and kind, but above all, he loved you for who you were.

Pedro's voice interrupted your thoughts. “You know, I have something else planned for us tonight,” he said, a mischievous grin on his face. “But I can't tell you what it is yet. It's a surprise.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “A surprise? You know I don't like surprises, Pedro.”

He chuckled. “Oh, I know. But trust me, you'll like this one.”

As the car pulled up in front of Pedro's apartment building, he leaned over and kissed you again. “Come on,” he said, opening the door. “Let's go see what I have in store for us.”

[memesmadefullmetal]

3.5k Followers Celebration: Fave Obscure Blorbos Tournament 🏆

To celebrate our HUGE milestone of passing 3.5k followers, we will be holding our FAVE OBSCURE BLORBOS TOURNAMENT (as voted for by you)!

The FINAL BLORBO BRACKET is down below!

Thank you all so much for your many, many suggestions! We think most of y’all’s submitted blorbos made the final cut, but we’re sorry to those who didn’t quite make it! 🫶🏻

These 32 obscure blorbos will go head-to-head in a winner takes all tournament to decide who is the best OBSCURE BLORBO OF ALL TIME! 👑

The competition will be split into several rounds:

Round 1 (Part 1) [COMPLETE]: the first 8 matches for competitors from the left side of the bracket

Round 1 (Part 2) [COMPLETE]: the second 8 matches for competitors from the right side of the bracket

Round 2 [COMPLETE]: 8 matches with the remaining 16 competitors

Round 3 (The Quarterfinals) [IN PROGRESS]: 4 matches with the remaining 8 competitors

Round 4 (The Semi-finals): 2 matches with the remaining 4 competitors

Round 4.5 (Redemption Rumble): 1 match with the 2 losers from Round 4 vying for the coveted 3rd place obscure blorbo

Round 5 (The Grand Final): the final match with the remaining 2 competitors battling it out to take the blorbo crown

All matches will run for ONE WEEK! 🏃🏼

The MATCHES HAVE BEGUN, so please send us your propaganda for your favourite blorbo — we love to see it! 🥊

Happy voting! 😌🗳️

- Mod Mustang & Mod Hawkeye 🔥🦅

[wordywarriorwrites]

Mystery

Title: Mystery A03 | Master List | Rating: E Summary: A spoiled Duchess, a famous Detective, and a bathtub built for two. Written For: Milestone '23 Prompt: Sleepy/lazy, Sherlock, Bath or Shower Sex Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Female Reader Warnings: Smut. PWP.

As a Duchess in your own right, as well as the sole heiress to a vast fortune, you had access to the very best. Clothes, jewelry, theatres, art, food, even stationary. You catered to your own whims and spoiled yourself whenever you saw fit - which, to be honest, was quite often.  

One of your most recent indulgences was your newly remodeled bathroom, with a waffle ceiling, tile-covered walls, a custom toilet, and a separate shower. There was also a double sink, with a mirrored, multi-drawered vanity that housed a variety of towels, robes, scents, oils, sponges, and brushes, but the crown jewel was the custom-made bathtub.  

Instead of having it tucked away into the wall, the porcelain-lined, pool-like behemoth was the centerpiece. It offered a perfect view of the estate gardens, was deep enough to submerge yourself in, and the swaths of fabric bolted to the ceiling could be pulled around it for additional privacy.

You chose to leave the curtain open and observe a late afternoon storm build along the horizon. The clouds rolled in and darkened the skies, which prompted the gardeners to head for cover and the servants to light the lamps. Once your hair had been washed, you refreshed the water, dismissed your lady’s maid, and ensconced yourself in the bath’s rose-scented depths.

Finally, you were alone, and able to have a private moment with your thoughts. And there were many things on your mind - after all, you were solely in charge of your household and had a lot to attend to before the London season got underway. You intended to host a ball next month, and there were several details to iron out, but the combination of steam and heavy rainfall quieted your racing mind and soothed you.

Sleep beckoned, but just as you began to nod off, a soft knock roused you. Perturbed by the disturbance, you opened your mouth to send whoever it was away, but then, the door creaked open without your permission, and you knew of only one person - one man - who had the audacity to do such a thing.

“Detective,” you murmured.

“Duchess,” he greeted as he bolted the door. 

You were fortunate. Privileged. Your title alone commanded respect, but you didn’t always behave as a lady of well-breeding should. Unmarried, with no children, and no guardian to watch over you? An independent woman of wealth and breeding who wasn’t a widow? It was unheard of, even obscene in some circles, but you were determined to retain your freedom for as long as you possibly could.  

There were many suitors vying for your hand, but none who genuinely cared for you beyond your position and wealth. It was why you’d decided to forego the marriage market and take a lover instead. But only someone who understood the necessity for absolute discretion could be considered a candidate, and Sherlock Holmes certainly fit the bill.

But being alone with a man who was not your husband or familial relation was forbidden. Enjoying a man’s company was unseemly. Being naked in a tub, while watching a man undress and ready himself to join you, was also a wicked offense - one that would surely result in damnation should anyone learn of it.  

Sherlock lowered himself in across from you and sighed, “Forgive me for my tardiness.”

You quirked a brow and dropped your foot between his pectorals, “Why should I?”

He grinned. Pressed a kiss to your ankle. Massaged from heel to arch while he shared his good news. Another case successfully closed, this time by his extensive knowledge of perfume and pipe ash. You laughed and reheated the water as he washed and regaled you with the tale. After a while, Sherlock fell silent, which prompted you to sit up and press a hand to his chest.

“Hungry?” you wondered. 

“Famished,” he replied.

“Tired?”

“Exhausted.”

You straddled his lap and cupped his face in your hands, “Let me make love you?”

Sherlock sat up and brushed his lips across your chin and cheeks, “Please.”

For all the dangerous, social landmines the two of you navigated, what you and Sherlock had was surprisingly uncomplicated. Your impeccable reputation and his unshakable honor afforded you both a lot of privacy and leeway. You also shared mutual acquaintances and occasionally saw each other at the same soirees, but neither of you made any overtures or public displays other than simple politeness. No flirting, no dancing, and absolutely no calls or gifts or letters. You were also friendly with his sister, Enola, and her close connection with Viscount Tewkesbury squashed any potential rumors and prevented tongues from wagging.

Besides, you were aware that Sherlock was married to his work. And he knew you wanted to remain independent for as long as possible. Yet, you also recognized the loneliness in each other.

And the desire for connection, too.

“You smell wonderful,” he observed gruffly between kisses. “Taste good, too. Like strawberries and hazelnuts.”

You grinned and dipped your tongue into his mouth, “You taste like beer. And cheddar cheese?”

“Such powers of observation, Duchess. You’ll put me out of a job.”

“Oh, I doubt that very much, Mr. Holmes.”

Sherlock’s chuckles morphed to contented groans the moment you wrapped your hand around him. You stroked him with the firm grip he preferred, with a twist of the wrist at the tip, and felt his hips lift slightly with every tug. Your front row seat to the beginnings of his undoing excited you, and when you took him inside, he moaned and gripped your waist tight.

This wasn’t the first time - far from it, in fact - but it still managed to stun you both. You took a moment before you allowed your head to fall back and your body to move. You used his shoulders for leverage as you built a steady rhythm. You weren’t sure how long you had. Didn’t know if he was staying the night or taking off right away. How long it would be until you saw him again? If your lady’s maid came searching…

“Slowly, Duchess. We have time.”

You met his eyes and frowned slightly, “Of course. I’m just--”

“I know,” he interjected quietly, reassuringly. “Me, too.”

Another kiss was all it took to distract you both. The water sloshed with every movement and threatened to spill onto the floor. You watched his pupils expand and his tongue dart out to lick wayward droplets from his lips. His nipples were pebbled, and the spread of his thighs beneath yours ensured you remained wide open and able to take him to the hilt. As you languidly sought your peak, he helped you along - slipped his hand beneath the water, right between your legs, and used his skilled fingers to stroke and pat at your clit.

Sherlock was massive and warm and beautiful beneath you. Plump mouth and flushed cheeks and curls even more riotous from the movement and heat. His shoulders rolled and his arms flexed as he maneuvered your legs around his waist and twined your arms over his shoulders. Once you were settled, he splayed one hand on the small of your back, planted the other on the bottom of the tub, and drove up and into you with considerable force. Still drawn-out, of course, but much sharper than you were capable of, and precisely what you needed.

You came undone embarrassingly fast. So fast, in fact, that you were dumbfounded into utter stillness. Sherlock was delighted, perhaps even charmed, because he laughed into your slack mouth and made a low, pleased sound deep in his chest. The spark in his eye was akin to the one you’d often seen when he’d unraveled a particularly difficult riddle, but it wasn’t smugness or male pride. He was satisfied simply because he’d satisfied you, and that was one of his most endearing and appealing qualities.

Sherlock hummed and nipped at your breast, “Another?”

You moaned against the crown of his head. Gripped the sides of the tub with both hands. Allowed him to give you more of what you both wanted, however he wanted, because it felt good.

Sherlock Holmes made you feel good, and even though you knew the two of you were well on your way to getting a bit too carried away, you had no desire to stop. You muffled the sounds of your pleasure in the crook of his neck, and each of his ragged exhales were interspersed with throaty growls and pointed thrusts that made you delirious.

Some time later - after you’d fed him, made love again, and put him to bed for the night in the guest room across from yours - you put on a nightgown, and slipped beneath your own sheets.

Sherlock would be gone before daybreak. You’d be up early, too, because you also had things to do. You’d enjoyed a rare night with him. You’d indulged in each other and made tentative plans to see each other once more before your time was taken up with early morning callers, afternoon teas, and balls that ran late into the night. 

You were happy - even if weren’t sure how long your affair with Sherlock would last.

But then again, you supposed it was just another mystery yet to be solved. 

[theroyalsims]

BREAKING: "YES, I'VE BEEN IN LOVE... ONCE" - ANYA OPENS UP AND GRACES COVER OF SOGUE MAGAZINE'S 150TH ANNIVERSARY ISSUE

Strike a pose! Covergirl Crown Princess Anya`stuns on the cover of Brindleton Sogue's special 150th anniversary issue.

The issue has been kept hush-hush until its release today. The swanky publication is currently celebrating its 150th anniversary, and what better way to mark such a milestone than to have the future Queen grace the cover... again. This is the second time that HRH has featured on the cover of the posh magazine.

The voluminous issue also includes wonderful new photos of the Crown Princess, taken in various picturesque locations around Brindleton. Her Royal Highness also very noticeably let down her natural curls and wore very few pieces of jewellery and minimal make-up for the feature. Crown Princess Anya's "stripped bare" hair and make-up are in stark contrast with the dramatic ballgowns she wore for the shoot.

Perhaps more importantly, however, Her Royal Highness sat down with the magazine's editor-in-chief for a very intimate conversation. The interview is said to be Anya's most honest and candid interview to date, and that's saying a lot, considering that the royals very rarely agree to be interviewed. The Crown Princess answered questions on her family, her work, and finding love. Snippets of the article are reproduced and translated below:

Your Royal Highness, for what seems like years now, there have been speculations on certain, shall we say, disagreements between you and some members of the Family. The... discord... has caused multiple speculations, and some would even argue that it has affected the public's trust on the monarchy. How are things now within the Family?

At the core of it all, we are a family - much like yours and everyone else's. Perhaps what sets my family apart is the fact that we live under constant scrutiny, and with that, the tiniest things are magnified to the point of being ridiculous.

Yes, there have been arguments, and yes there have been fights but at the end of the day, we all take a step back and remind ourselves that we are a family, and much importantly, we owe it to the people to ensure that the monarchy is in safe hands. We're good. We're solid. We're very much a team. I love my parents, and I love my siblings. It's not always as dramatic as everyone sets it out to be.

So I suppose it's safe to say that all is well with The Harvelles?

What exactly is "well?" *laughs* They seem very happy with their lives, and I'm quite content with mine. I wish them, to use your word, "well." Really, I do. They have a lovely little daughter, and I'm quite certain I'm the least of their worries. I'm sure they'd rather spend time with each other that concern themselves with what other people are saying about my relationship with them.

Speaking of, YRH, have you seen your niece? Have you met her?

Of course... during the odd family gatherings and dinners, when we all come over to the big house. I find it quite entertaining how everyone's painting me out to be the evil aunt. I think she's a darling little girl. And of course, I've met her, yes.

You're to take on a very massive challenge next year, vying for gold at the World Sports Festival. How are the preparations going?

I'd like to think it's going quite swimmingly, and I hope my coach doesn't disagree. *laughs* I won't be taking a leave of absence for training; I don't think the current workload allows it, but I do make sure to free up some time to get on the saddle. I love horses, and I've been riding since I was a child, so my training - gruelling as it may be on certain days - isn't really that much of a hardship for me. I enjoy it, really.

I also love training with the rest of the Brindleton Team. I've made lots of new friends and I'm very proud to see so many gifted young athletes represent our country.

It's been a while since you last completed professionally, what made you decide to compete again?

It's alway been a dream to bag the gold at the Festival and bring it home to Brindleton. So for me, it's now or never. I'm not getting any younger, and I realised that if I want to try and achieve that dream, I should get my act together and get back on the horse, figuratively and literally.

Since you brought it up, I hope you don't mind my asking, YRH, but there has been much speculation about your, shall I say, lack of prospects, and those write-ups came right after your birthday. Does that affect you in anyway?

When did I bring this up? *laughs* Ah, yes. I've heard about that. Mostly, I laugh it off. I know I'm no spring chicken *laughs* but these things... they can't be rushed, you know? Do I wish people would stop talking about my private life? Yes. Do I expect them to? No.

I know my place and I am very much aware that it's part of the job. This role, this life I'm born into... it's...well, I know what it entails. Let's just leave it at that.

Since I'm being so bold, I'll take my chances - have you ever been in love?

My, my. That is bold. They warned me about you. *laughs* Yes. Of course. Yes, I've been in love... once. But it was ages ago. It feels like a lifetime ago. It was beautiful and glorious, and most importantly, it was mine, ours. But you know, life happens, things change. You grow up. It is, however, something I look back very fondly on. I feel lucky to have experienced that.

And now? Are you looking for love?

No. Not actively anyway. I'd love to, but I can't afford to. And I promise you not every man who crosses my path fancies me. *laughs*

No, I... I believe things will fall into place when it's supposed to. Gosh, I sound like such a sap. *laughs* No... it's just that... I had it once... and you know, I grew up surrounded by love, by two people who are very much in love. So if it's not like what my mum and dad has, I don't want it.

That's fair enough.

Isn't it? I feel like that's a very small and reasonable demand. *laughs*

Finally, Your Royal Highness, What do you think shall be seen as your greatest legacy Crown Princess of Brindleton?

I really don't know. That's a very difficult question to answer, but if I were to free to hope, I hope it's my work with the youth. It's very important that we give our children, our teenagers - girls, especially - a fair and equal chance in life. And I'd like to think I've made an impact on that regard. I am very passionate about supporting children's well-being with a focus on their mental health, especially our teens because it's a very crucial point in one's life.

Don't you just love how Anya and her siblings call the palace "the big house"? And for once, it's refreshing to not speculate about something that our royals did or did not do! Case in point: Anya HAS met her niece, contrary to the ongoing rumour that she has been snubbing poor little Lady Ella.

However, we can't help but wonder who exactly was The Crown Princess' one true love? Could it be Mario? Or Dr. Greg? Maybe even tennis pro Sterling? But then again, she did mention that it was a while back... so it couldn't possible be her footballer ex. Curiouser and curiouser... Leave it to Anya to actually share her secrets and yet leave us wanting more!

The issue has been selling incredibly fast, and major retailers have already reportedly sold out. And it's no wonder! It's so rare that we get to hear directly from our royals (especially notoriously tight-lipped Anya), so this issue is, indeed, a must-have and a must-read for all royal fans out there!

[heartsandhischier]

The Illusion of Teamwork

andrei svechnikov x female!reader

summary - 997 words. attending Y/N album release arguments arise part 3 of The Pretend Play

author's note - i'm getting too invested in this story lol. hope ya'll like it

warnings - swearing

The evening air was tinged with anticipation, the venue alive with the murmur of voices and the subtle clink of glasses. It was Y/N’s album release party, and event marking the countless hours of dedication and passion. The venue itself was a masterpiece of elegance, with ambient lighting lighting and tasteful decor, buzzed with the chatter of guests, each eagerly awaiting the star of the night. 

Andrei, typically more at ease in the stark, adrenaline-fueled world of ice rinks, found himself out of his element. His choice of attire, a sleek yet undeniably casual outfit, was a misguided attempt at blending comfort with the evening’s upscale expectations. Upon arrival, he was met with a disappointed glare from Y/N.

“Really, Andrei? This is a milestone in my career, not a backyard barbeque,” she chided, her gaze scrutizining his less-than-formal attire. The annoyance in her voice was palpable, underscoring the importance of the event not just for her career but for the image they were supposed to project.

Caught off guard by her reaction, Andrei’s defense was half-hearted. “I though it was supposed to be a laid-back event,” he replied, misunderstanding the gravity of the occasion.

Y/N’s sigh spoke volumes, her frustration clear. “There’s laid-back, and then there’s just not caring,” she countered. 

Their exchange was abruptly cut short by the eager press, their cameras a barrage of flashing lights as they were asked to pose together. Slipping into their facades, they smiled for the cameras, a picture of harmony to any onlooker unaware of the simmering tension between them. 

The evening progressed, and Y/N, in her element, mingled with other celebrities and musicians, her laughter and bright conversation a stark contrast to the stiffness of her interaction with Andrei. He watched as she seamlessly blended into the crowd, when her attention was captured by a renowned musician. They were deeply engrossed in conversation, their head tilted towards each other in a manner that suggested a shared secret or joke. Laughter spilled from Y/N, genuine and ungarded, his hand lightly touching her arm in a moment of connection.

Andrei felt an unwelcome tightening in his chest, a sensation he was reluctant to acknowledge as jealousy. He watched as Y/N’s eyes sparkled with enthusiasm, her animated gestures painting her in a light he hadn’t seen before – a side of her that seemed to emerge effortlessly in the company of others. 

In a moment of spite and perhaps to soothe his bruised ego, andrei began to engage with the female guests, his demeanor shifting to one of charm and attentiveness. They were charmed by his approach, drawn in by the allure of his public persona. As he engaged in light conversation, his laughter a little too loud, his glances back at Y/N a little too frequent, he hoped to capture her attention, to elicit some sign of acknowledgment or perhaps even jealousy.

But Y/N, absorbed in her conversation, seemed oblivious to Andrei's maneuvers, her focus on the musician unwavering. It was only when their dialogue reached a natural pause that she glanced across the room, her eyes meeting Andrei's. The sight of him, surrounded by a group of women, each vying for his attention, sent a jolt of annoyance through her.

She excused herself from the musician, her expression composed as she made her way towards Andrei. Interrupting his conversation with a polite yet firm interjection, she addressed him with a coolness that belied her irritation. "Andrei, can I have a word with you?"

Y/N led Andrei to a quiter spot of the event, her eyes narrowed slightly. “What the fuck are you doing?” Y/N’s frustration was barely contained, her voice a low hiss amid the gala’s ambiance.

Andrei’s shrugged carelessly, pretending to not understand, which only made things worse. “You’re supposed to be here supporting me, not flirting with every woman in sight. It’s making us look bad,” Y/N said, her tone sharp with accusation.

Andrei’s response was defensive, laced with bitterness. “What? I’m not allowed to talk to people now? Seems like you’re doing just fine on your own.”

Y/N’s eyes flashed with frustration. “There’s a difference between networking and blatantly flirting. It’s disrespectful, not just to me but to the effort we’re supposed to put into this arrangement.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” he shot back. He couldn’t help but be sarcastic, his own frustrations boiling to the surface. “When’s your duet album with mr. country coming out huh? From all that cosying up, I’m sure it’ll be quite the romantic hit,” andrei snapped back, the bitterness evident in his tone.

Y/N, momentarily taken aback by the harshness of his accusation, regained her composure quickly. “There’s a difference between networking and outright flirting. I was being professional, which is more than I can say for you right now.” 

Andrei scoffed, his frustration boiling over. “Professional, right. So all your flirty laugs and intimate chats are just you being ‘business-like’? Give me a break, Y/N:”

Her reply was sharp, cutting to the heart of their conflict. “Absolutely. And there's a clear line between professional networking at my album release and whatever game you're playing, trying to make me jealous by flirting with every guest. It's childish and unprofessional."

As the realization of how long they'd been away from the celebration dawned on them, Y/N let out a frustrated sigh, clearly annoyed by the entire situation. "Whatever, let's just get through the rest of this night," she said, rolling her eyes as she extended her hand towards him in a gesture of truce, albeit a reluctant one.

Andrei, despite his frustrations, recognized the need to present a united front. He huffed, a sound of resigned agreement, and took her hand. Both of them sighed, a moment of mutual understanding passing between them before they forced smiles onto their faces and stepped back into the celebration, ready to continue the charade for the sake of appearances.

[dearbraus]

Wine Upon My Lips⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

— Dehya

⊹ Details. 18+ minors dni, dni if you are not sapphic, afab!reader, reader wears a slip dress, blood consumption, vamp!reader, reassurance, ambiguous relationship, Dehya is reader's protector, vampiric feeding. ⊹ Run time. 1.0k ⊹ Note. Thank you for sending in a lil request Ophie, I hope you enjoy. Prompt; "already barely holding it together as they're getting their hand held but then they feel that reassuring squeeze and they just can't” for my lil milestone event.

The desert air is cool at night. It rustles through the thin, gauzy white slip you wear. Goosebumps dance up the length of your arms as you quietly pace around the courtyard. Your heeled shoes click against faded, worn stone tiles, alerting the nearly sleeping desert foxes to your presence. They brush against your legs and weave in between them as you walk, vying for your attention with small displeased yips, but your gaze remains firmly locked in the archway that leads into the courtyard. 

“She must come,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around your trembling frame, “She promised me … She wouldn’t lie to me.”

“Who wouldn’t lie to you?”

A familiar voice calls from behind you. You whip your head in search of its owner. Dehya’s head peeks out from around the tree trunk she’s hidden behind. The branches lightly sway with the breeze, and a few petals from the budding flowers fly off and scatter across the courtyard. The mildly fragrant floral scent drifts along the air for a fleeting moment before it dissipates across the dunes that spread outside of the castle walls. Her body rolls around it as she steps out from behind it, a look of concern crossing her features as she walks closer to you.

Your name rolls off her tongue as she stretches her hand toward you, “Are you alright?” Dehya murmurs, her brows furrowing together when the warm palm of her hand meets your frigid skin, “Archons, you’re freezing, here take this.”

The red and gold cloak she wears around her shoulders swiftly flies off her body and she wraps it around your trembling frame.

“Thank you,” you mutter, ducking your head to avert your gaze.

Her pale blue eyes are piercing as they flicker up and down your body, and her calloused palms rub soothing circles against your biceps, “You can tell me,” she says, curling her finger under your chin to catch your eyes, “If something’s wrong. Is that why you called me here?”

“Not exactly,” you stutter, clamping your bottom lip between your teeth, “I called you here because I need you.”

“Whoa, hey, maybe take a girl out to dinner first,” Dehya jokes, the corners of her lips curling up into a smile only to drop when your expression remains sunken, “Okay, not the time for jokes … So, you need me? Need me for what?”

“It’s difficult to explain.”

Taking your trembling hand in hers, Dehya offers you reassurance through a firm squeeze. Tears prickle at your eyes, they threaten to spill over your lash line as you suck in a shaky breath, “I’m hungry,” you whisper, your voice no louder than the wind, “And I need you.”

The sharpened edge of your fangs glints in the warm firelight that spills across the courtyard. From beneath your lip, they’re rather measly-looking and appear to be only a smidgen larger than the rest of your teeth. Still, Dehya’s breath hitches and sticks in the middle of her throat. The cogs turn behind her eyes as she begins to understand what you’re asking of her. The hold she has on your hand tightens as she tilts her head to the side, bearing her neck to you.

Your hand shakes as you gently brush a few strands of Dehya’s long brown hair away from her neck. You can feel how her heart thrums erratically as you smooth your fingers along the smooth expanse of her skin and press down in search of her vein. You suppose the steely look in her eyes is supposed to be a wordless admission of how brave she is but, guilt curls in your gut and you hesitate.

“Hey,” she calls, her voice soft in a way that warms the icy pit that sits on your chest, “It’s okay, you can do this.”

Offering you a small smile, Dehya curls her fingers around the nape of your neck to bring your face forward. Your hot breath fans across her shoulder, your lips just barely grazing the junction where her shoulder meets her neck. Your fingers twitch and bile lines the back of your throat as anticipation thrums through your veins. Dehya is docile in your grasp, filled with concern for you and your well-being while your body shakes in excitement at the prospect of her taste on your tongue.

Laving your tongue over her sweat-salted skin, you graze your fangs along her pulse point. A small pained gasp tears through Dehya as your teeth sink into her flesh. Your eyes roll back into your head as the heady metallic taste of her blood fills your mouth. Her nails bite into your hand as she jolts, but she still manages to rub a few, small circles with her thumb. The tears that nipped at your eyes drip past your lashes as you hungrily suckle and gulp down her ichor.

The pained puffs of air that passed her lips meld into ones that eerily resemble sounds of pleasure. Her chest heaves against yours as she gulps down a few deep breaths. Blood drips out of the corner of your mouth and rolls down your chin. Dehya’s eyes are heavy and lidded with exhaustion when you lift your head. 

“Better?” She questions, offering you a tired smile.

Nodding your head, you dip down to plant a gentle kiss against her throbbing, split skin, “Thank you, Dehya,” you murmur into her neck, “You must let me know how I can repay you.”

One of her hands slips down to hold your hip while the other brushes along your jaw to wipe away the thick trickles of blood that paint your skin. She holds you tenderly and firmly. A sob sits on the tip of your tongue, though you don’t feel sad.

“There’s no need,” she says, her eyes flickering between your eyes and lips, “I am your protector, aren’t I?”

“But-“

Resting her forehead against yours, Dehya holds you close. Your chests rise and fall in sync as your harried breathes slow into a languid lull, “It is my duty and honour to attend to your needs.”

It sounds like a rather cheap bargain though you’re the one who asked this if she. Still, her warm and comforting embrace was far too welcoming for you to argue further.

© all content belongs to dearbraus. do not modify, repost, or redistribute.

[beardedmrbean]

MEXICO CITY — Claudia Sheinbaum, a climate scientist and former mayor of Mexico City, won her nation’s elections Sunday in a landslide victory that brought a double milestone: She became the first woman, and the first Jewish person, to be elected president of Mexico.

Early results indicated that Sheinbaum, 61, prevailed in what the authorities called the largest election in Mexico’s history, with the highest number of voters taking part and the most seats up for grabs.

It was a landmark vote that saw not one, but two, women vying to lead one of the hemisphere’s biggest nations. And it will put a Jewish leader at the helm of one of the world’s largest predominantly Catholic countries.

Sign up for The Morning newsletter from the New York Times

Sheinbaum, a leftist, campaigned on a vow to continue the legacy of Mexico’s current president and her mentor, Andrés Manuel López Obrador, which delighted their party’s base — and raised alarm among detractors. The election was seen by many as a referendum on his leadership, and her victory was a clear vote of confidence in López Obrador and the party he started.

López Obrador has completely reshaped Mexican politics. During his tenure, millions of Mexicans were lifted out of poverty and the minimum wage doubled. But he has also been a deeply polarizing president, criticized for failing to control rampant cartel violence, for hobbling the nation’s health system and for persistently undercutting democratic institutions.

Still, López Obrador remains widely popular and his enduring appeal propelled his chosen successor. And for all the challenges facing the country, the opposition was unable to persuade Mexicans that their candidate was a better option.

“We love her, we want her to work like Obrador,” Gloria Maria Rodríguez, 78, from Tabasco, said of Sheinbaum. “We want a president like Obrador.”

Sheinbaum won with at least 58% of the vote, according to preliminary results, while her closest competitor, Xóchitl Gálvez, an entrepreneur and former senator on a ticket with a coalition of opposition parties, had at least 26.6%.

If early returns hold, Sheinbaum will have captured a broader share of the vote than any candidate in decades.

Speaking to supporters early Monday, Sheinbaum vowed to work on behalf of all Mexicans, reaffirmed her party’s commitment to democracy and celebrated her groundbreaking ascension to the nation’s highest office.

“For the first time in 200 years of the republic, I will become the first female president of Mexico,” she said. “And as I have said on other occasions, I do not arrive alone. We all arrived, with our heroines who gave us our homeland, with our ancestors, our mothers, our daughters and our granddaughters.”

Sheinbaum said she received calls from Gálvez and the third-place candidate, Jorge Álvarez Máynez, to congratulate her on the victory. Shortly after Sheinbaum’s speech, Gálvez told supporters that the early returns were “not favorable to my candidacy,” and “irreversible,” noting that she had just communicated with Sheinbaum.

Gálvez had said in an interview days before the vote Sunday that “an anti-system vote” against López Obrador could help propel her to victory. In reality, it appeared that many Mexicans still associate the parties backing her with a system they see as inept and corrupt.

“Xóchitl Gálvez has been unable to represent change because the parties backing her embody the establishment,” said Carlos Bravo Regidor, a political analyst based in Mexico City. “Most Mexicans want a continuity of the change brought by López Obrador.”

Many voters seemed to endorse Sheinbaum as an agent of institutionalizing the changes brought about by her mentor. “We need to bring about more change to the country,” said Evelyn Román, 21, a chemical engineering student in Mexico City who supports Sheinbaum. “We did notice the progress in these six years.”

Sheinbaum’s experience is ample: She has a doctorate in energy engineering, participated in a United Nations panel of climate scientists awarded a Nobel Peace Prize and governed the capital, one of the largest cities in the hemisphere.

Known as a demanding boss with a reserved demeanor, Sheinbaum has risen through the ranks by aligning herself completely with López Obrador, who built an entire political party around his outsize personality. During the campaign, she backed many of his most contentious policies, including a slate of constitutional changes that critics say would severely undermine democratic checks and balances.

As a result, the president-elect battled the perception among many Mexicans that she will be little more than a pawn of her mentor.

“There’s this idea, because a lot of columnists say it, that I don’t have a personality,” Sheinbaum complained to reporters earlier this year. “That President Andrés Manuel López Obrador tells me what to do, that when I get to the presidency, he’s going to be calling me on the phone every day.”

Even with the broad mandate voters granted her, she faces significant challenges when she takes office in October.

López Obrador benefited “from the invincible popularity that comes from being a very charismatic leader — something that Claudia is not,” said Paula Sofía Vásquez, a political analyst based in Mexico City.

Cartel violence continues to torment the country, displacing people en masse and fueling one of the deadliest campaign cycles in recent Mexican history, with more than 36 people vying for public office killed since last summer.

Carlos Ortiz, 57, a municipal official working for the Iztapalapa borough in Mexico City, said that such bloodshed compelled him to vote against Sheinbaum.

“I want everything to change,” Ortiz said, recalling the dozens of aspirants for public office killed in recent months. “I don’t want a country on fire anymore.”

López Obrador has directed government attention to addressing the drivers of crime instead of waging war on the criminal groups, a strategy he called “hugs not bullets.” Homicides declined modestly but remain near record levels, and reports of missing people have spiked. Insecurity was a top concern for voters.

Sheinbaum has said she would continue his focus on social causes of the violence, while also working to lower rates of impunity and building up the national guard.

On the economy, the opportunities are clear: Mexico is now the largest trading partner of the United States, benefiting from a recent shift in manufacturing away from China. The currency is so strong it’s been labeled the “super peso.”

But there are also problems simmering. The federal deficit ballooned to around 6% this year, and Pemex, the national oil company, is operating under a mountain of debt, straining public finances.

“The fiscal risk we’re facing at the moment is something we haven’t seen for decades,” said Mariana Campos, director of Mexico Evaluates, a public policy research group.

It’s unclear how Sheinbaum would make good on a range of campaign promises — from building public schools and new health clinics to expanding social welfare programs — given the current state of public finances.

“The problem I see is that a lot of proposals are oriented toward spending and there is nowhere to get the money from,” said Vásquez.

Another challenge involves the broad new responsibilities granted to the armed forces, which have been tasked with running ports and airports, running an airline, and building a railroad through the Mayan jungle. Sheinbaum has said “there is no militarization” of the country, while suggesting she’s open to reevaluating the military’s involvement in public enterprises.

Beyond the domestic strains, Sheinbaum’s destiny will be intertwined with the outcome of the presidential election in the United States.

A reelection victory for President Joe Biden would provide continuity, but a return of Donald Trump to the White House would likely be far less predictable. Trump’s plans to round up people living in the country illegally on a vast scale and deport them to their home countries could target millions of Mexicans living in the United States. He has already threatened to slap 100% tariffs on Chinese cars made in Mexico.

Then there’s the festering issue of fentanyl, which cartels produce in Mexico using chemicals imported from China, the U.S. government says. Trump has suggested taking military action to combat the fentanyl trade.

Sheinbaum has said Mexico would have “good relations” with either Trump or Biden as president, and her campaign team has said it will continue to work to contain flows of migrants.

But handling such pressure from Washington, even in the form of incendiary campaign rhetoric, could prove complicated.

Voters expressed faith in Sheinbaum’s ability to deal with such challenges. Daniela Mendoza, 40, a psychologist who lives in Villahermosa, in Tabasco state, said she had long supported López Obrador, including during his previously unsuccessful bids to win the presidency.

Pleased with his social welfare programs, Mendoza voted for Sheinbaum.

“Claudia follows that line, perhaps with better ideas,” Mendoza said. “And having the first woman president in the country is an accomplishment.”

[donkey-hyuck]

currently have one THOUSAND AND NINE followers….. wow. (half of em are prob not even on this app anymore but it still feels surreal to even think of that amount of people) love you all, whether you’re still on or not 🥹🥹

[thewordswewrite]

Hawkins Prison Blues

Pairing | Steve Harrington x HoppersDaughter!Reader

Summary | A simple delivery turns into a night of unresolved feelings as you find the one and only Steve Harrington locked in Hawkins Police Station's one and only jail cell

Warnings | explicit language, angst, extensive talk about parental relationships

W/C | 6.3k

A/N | Well I am in no way anti-Hopper, this fic seems to be (oops). This takes place the night of the Snow Ball after Steve drops off Dustin. The reader is Hopper's second daughter and for inclusivity sake, I did not specify how she came to be Hopper's daughter and there are many ways to have kids so please freely imagine yourself here! - saph

“That’ll come out to five ninety-eight, would you like to pay cash or card?”

“Cash.”

The lights on the faded menu flicker as you pull around to the next window, tapping your hand on the car door to the beat of the music. Warm air rattles out of the heater, chugging alongside the music. Your watch reads eight o’clock and besides the one van in front of you that reeks of weed, you haven’t seen another car since you left the house. No,, parents and kids alike, had long since settled down in the school lot for the infamous Snow Ball. The middle schoolers were experiencing their first major dance while kiss-asses from Hawkins High were vying for chaperone spots, trying to scrounge up a little extra-credit for the end of the semester. Parents, including your father, were busy with send-offs, polaroids and potlucks as they watched another big milestone pass them by.

Jane had looked beautiful, you couldn’t deny that, especially as you–against your father’s wishes–helped her add a bit of your makeup to her look. Yes, she was beautiful, far more than you had been at your first Snow Ball. You hadn’t even worn a dress. You hadn’t even owned a dress. But nothing but the best for daddy’s little girl.

“Whopper with a small fry and a coke?”

“Yep, thanks.”

You pull the greasy bag into the car and dump it onto the passenger seat. The smell fills the car instantly and you roll down the windows letting the crisp winter air take you somewhere else. The route to the station had been second nature about a month after you earned your license; you didn’t need to think to get where you were going. A dangerous habit sure, but tension coiled around your muscles, and you didn’t want to think at all let alone about anything to do with your dad.

Unfortunately, it was him who had called from the station just as you had finished your shift at Tiff’s, not bothering to detail the ‘emergency’ that had him leaving home so suddenly. Despite the shouting in the background of the call, clearly said ‘emergency’ hadn’t been as pressing as your dad had made it out to be, considering you’re busy delivering Burger King to the chief of police rather than relaxing in bed with a book.

When you pull up, Calvin and Phil are already gone, the absence of their squad cars further confirming the suspicion that there really is no good reason for your dad, or you, to be out here at this hour. You’d be lying if you said you were surprised. You know what ‘emergencies’ are code for: shit you don’t get to know about.

You shove the door open with a grunt, the hinges sticking with the cold. “Dad?”

“Yeah, in here.”

Dropping the bag down on his desk, you flop down into the chair usually reserved for petty criminals and pissed off neighbors and toy with the nameplate sat in front of you. Jim Hopper.

“Mm, thanks for this,” He says between bites.

“Yeah, no problem,” You sigh, stealing a fry from his makeshift plate, hope for a simple conversation simmering in your chest. “Is that all or…”

“Yeah, just…ah, shit.” He brings his watch closer to his face and bursts up from his chair. Haphazardly, he scrapes the rest of his meal into the trash beside his desk. “I gotta pick up eh, Jane from the dance.” He mutters a few more expletives under his breath before tossing a key ring into your hands. “Could you lock up for me?”

“Th-the station?”

“Yeah, you’ve got it.”

“I don’t think I should-”

“Thanks!” Your dad calls as he pushes out the door. You slump down, rubbing your forehead. The familiarity of the situation wasn’t lost on you. It wasn’t the first time your father had run off, citing Jane as the explanation. Jane the ‘foreign exchange student’ turned ‘sister.’ You’d all about given up trying to understand how your life had come to change in the course of a year.

“Hop? Hopper? You can’t just leave me here! Hello?”

The muffled shouts come from the back of the station. Your instincts tell you to search the desks for something to defend yourself, that is until you realize exactly where the shouts are coming from: the cells.

“Hopper!”

“Steve?”

Standing in front of you is Steve “The Hair” Harrington, King of Hawkins High, banging on the bars of the one jail cell available to the drunks of Hawkins, Indiana. You burst out laughing, taking in the disheveled look of him, his hair unkempt, and maroon sweater stained.

“C.K.! Oh my god, you have no idea how happy I am to see you!” Chief’s Kid. You hated that name and you thought you’d reminded him of that enough times to get through that thick layer of hairspray clouding his brain. You stop laughing just as suddenly as you started and turn to leave, flipping him off as you make your way to the door. “Wait, wait! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, I’m just-just, so relieved you're here. Please, please, don’t go!”

“Give me one real reason I should stay,” You huff, leaning against the door frame.

“Because we’re friends and-” You turn away again, scoffing. “Okay, okay, because I’m starving and I-I’m freezing in here and you are a very, very, generous person.” His eyes are wide and bloodshot, staring at you in utter desperation.

“What do you want me to do about that?”

“Well, you could let me out?” He makes an attempt on turning on that smile, the one that even made goody-two-shoes Nancy Wheeler, amongst others, fall for him. But you’ve seen it before. It had almost worked then but definitely wasn’t going to work now.

“I’m not doing that.”

The smile drops, falling flat. “Why not?”

“Let’s see,” You begin, tapping a finger on your chin, “My father put you in here, for what I’m sure is a very good reason and frankly, I just don’t like you.” You almost tacked on an ‘anymore’ but decided he didn’t deserve to know he was ever in your good graces.

“I promise you, it’s not a good reason!” Steve leans his head between the bars of the cell, grimacing.

“You-you promise?” You scoff. Placing your hands on your knees, you bend over, making an exaggerated show of laughing. “That’s a good one.” He shakes his head and brushes his hair out of his face with an open palm.

“C.K.-”

“You’re a liar, Steve Harrington.”

“I’ve never lied to you.” His voice is strained and he moves away from the bars, instead flopping down on the wooden bench that serves as the cell’s only furniture. You think about leaving him here, maybe even turning off the lights as you go, letting him serve whatever sentence he earned himself in the dark. You aren’t exactly on your father’s side as far as his judgment goes but you figure your feelings for Steve align strongly with that of Jim Hopper.

“What are you here for anyway? Did ‘slaying demon dogs’ suddenly become a crime?”

“First of all, it’s demodogs and second-,” Steve stands again as you move closer to your cell, “I…” He falters, the cocky look leaving his face. “I plead the fourth.”

“It’s the fifth.”

“The fifth of what?” He shakes his head incredulously.

“It’s ‘I plead the-,’ you know what, you’re an idiot.”

“I’ve heard that one before.”

~

You sit at the counter, resting your head in your hand as the fluorescent lights flicker above you. Tiff’s Diner is usually a hotspot for kids on a night like this but every other person your age is Tina’s Halloween party while you spend your night with the latest Danielle Steel and a dozen empty booths. It’s not like you weren’t invited. All the other kids knew you were Chief Hopper’s daughter and they knew better than to leave you out. Tiff had even offered to let you take the night off, knowing there wouldn’t be any business anyway. But your dad was gone and you didn’t like being alone with Jane anyway plus it wasn’t as if anyone at the party was missing you either, why not make a few extra bucks on an easy night.

The jingle of the door’s bell made you jump, having been lost in your novel and frankly, not expecting anyone for the rest of the night. The boy in front of you removes his sunglasses and pushes them up into his hair. You didn’t recognize his face per se but you’d know that hair anywhere. You sit up straighter and shove your book out of the way. With his eyes unhidden, you can see the sadness in them now and even more so accompanied by the frown on his face.

“Welcome to Tiff’s,” You sigh. “Take Out or Dine-In?”

“Haven’t really decided that yet,” Steve says, squinting up at the menu above you. The longer you look at him the worse he looks, especially bathed in fluorescent light.

“Well, you better hurry,” You warn, smirking, “I might run out of tables.” He laughs, leaning on the counter.

“I guess I’ll have to Dine-In, then,” Steve decides, winking, “while I still can.” He rattles off his order and you head into the kitchen to wake up Sal, the one cook still left on duty. He wakes with a start and it takes him a bit to realize you actually have an order for him. Once Sal is actually up and cooking Steve’s order, you grab a Coke and head out to your one and only customer. “Hostess and waitress, huh?”

“What can I say, I’m talented.” You slide his drink over to him but you remain standing at the booth, unsure if you’re welcome to sit. When you turn to go, Steve suddenly huffs out a breath and continues the conversation.

“I know you’ve got a lot of demanding customers but I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind keeping me company?”

“Don’t you have a girlfriend for that?” You ask, taking a seat across from him. Normally when you’ve seen Steve, at Tiff’s or in the halls, he’s had Hawkins’ golden girl, Nancy Wheeler on his arm.

“I'm kind of on the fence about that right now,” He sighs, taking a sip of his drink. An ‘I’m sorry’ finds itself at the tip of your tongue but that doesn’t seem right. You didn’t want to help him mourn a relationship he might still have.

“That’s bullshit.”

“Yeah,” Steve scoffs, digging his palms into his already reddened eyes.

“So, Risky Business?”

“Huh?”

“Your costume.” You gesture to his outfit.

“Oh, yeah,” Steve smiled. “I didn’t think anyone would know. Especially without my escort.”

“The glasses give it away,” You laugh.

“And what are you dressed as, C.K.?”

“Don’t,” You snap. “Don't’ call me that,” You warn, softer.

“Got it.” He raised his arms in surrender. You tap your foot, cursing yourself for ruining what you had going. “Dana from Ghostbusters?” You raise an eyebrow at him until you remember what you were talking about.

“I’m not wearing-”

“Oh, I know! Ariel from Footloose.”

“You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.”

~

You twirl the key ring around your finger. “I’m sure you’ll hear it again.”

“Can I at least get something from the vending machine?” Steve pleaded. “Then you can leave.”

“I don’t need your permission to-” He put on a pout and his classic puppy-dog eyes, clasping his hands together to beg. “You got your wallet?” A hand slips through the bars, dangling a five dollar bill in your direction. You grab it from him gingerly and trudge down the hall to the vending machines. After inserting the bill, you start pressing numbers, trying to recall what he used to get at the movies. You get your five dollars worth and head back to his cell.

“See, so generous,” Steve croons as you pass the snacks through the open-spaces. “I didn’t think you were going to come back,” He huffs. Peeling off the wrapper of a candy bar, he slips you half like he always does–did–not even looking up to see if you’ll take it. And you do, popping it in your mouth as you sit cross-legged in front of the cell. “So, where’s the bigger Hop?”

“Taking care of his new favorite daughter,” You mutter, taking the handful of chips Steve offers you. “I’m surprised you didn’t already know that.” The smile on his face falls.

“C’mon, don’t be like that.”

“Well, you just seem to know everything about my life before I do.”

“You know that I-” You put up a hand to stop him.

“Just stop.”

The two of you sit in silence as Steve eats his vending machine dinner. He offers you more but you don’t accept it, remembering all that had happened in such a short time, not that long ago and the fact that Steve had somehow been in the center of it all.

“I, uh, drove Dustin to the Snow Ball, you know, before I got arrested,” Steve explains between Doritos. He laughs to himself, “I have to say he looked pretty good. He might be ‘the Hair’ of Hawkins Middle.” You can’t help but join him in tentative laughter, thinking of Dustin’s unruly curls.

~

You walk down the street, matching Steve’s stride as he hands you half of his candy bar.

“You could’ve told me you’d already seen it,” He huffs, running a hand through his hair. You pat him on the back as he pouts.

“Well, you hadn’t,” You offer, “and it was even better the second time.” You nearly bump into him as he stops abruptly, seemingly not even noticing that he stopped walking. Following his gaze, your eyes land on the Wheeler house. You pat him on the back again. The other night at Tiff’s diner he had spilled it all to you, all of Nancy Wheeler’s ‘bullshit.’ You’d thought maybe it was just because you were a stranger and who did you have to tell his secrets to anyway? But then he came back the next day and then he’d asked you to the movies and well, you still hadn’t quite figured out whatever had led to him attaching himself to you so fast.

“Steve!”

Coming down the driveway is a younger boy, his brown curly hair sticking out from under his hat and headphones combo. He trudges right up to the pair of you, out of breath.

“Hey,” The boy acknowledges you briefly before turning back to Steve, “I hope you’re not on a date. We have bigger problems than your love life.” You sputter out a laugh as the boy continues to walk down the sidewalk, now with Steve in toe. “Do you still have that bat?”

Steve looks back at you, mouthing ‘I’m sorry,’ and you shrug, waving as he runs after the boy.

~

“So, you went from being a middle-schooler’s chauffeur to being an inmate in a matter of hours?”

“Listen, I was drunk, okay?” Steve lays across the floor of the cell, tossing his crumpled up chip bag like a baseball. “Still kinda am.” He flips so that he’s laying on his side, propped up by his elbow, and poses for you like a playboy model. You lay on the floor beside him, staring up at the ceiling.

“So, what? My dad arrested you for underage drinking? In Hawkins?” In small town Indiana, underage drinking is commonplace and you know your dad; he’s not going to do anything that takes more effort than it’s worth. “The law” hasn’t been your dad’s top priority, not for years, and neither have you.

“Well, it’s not just that,” He sighs, covering his face with his hands. “Let’s just say you might want to look into window repair services.” You hadn’t noticed before but as Steve hides his face in embarrassment you can see the gauze wrapped haphazardly around his palm. Reaching through the bars, you snatch his hand to see the crimson bloom of blood soaked up by the bandage

“You broke my window in your what, your drunken escapades? You trying to lose a hand?” Steve puffs out a laugh which sends you reeling back. “Jesus, what’ve you been drinking? Your breath smells like death!” When his other hand moves from his face, you see what you hadn’t cared to notice before. Not only were his eyes bloodshot but they were enveloped in dark circles. His jaw was beginning to be overshadowed by stubble in a way you’d never seen. His shirt, his shoes, his pants were all dirtied. “Jesus.”

“Sorry, let me just go freshen up…oh, wait.” You shake your head, ignoring him as you unwrap the gauze from his hand, his face turned up in a wince. You gingerly cup his shaking hand with your own, rubbing circles into his knuckles to calm him as you finish unwrapping the gauze.

“This needs to be cleaned,” You scold, already getting up to find the nearest first aid.

“Hey, you take that up with the big Hop!”

“Would you stop saying that?” You lay out the kit in front of the cell. “Sit up and come closer,” You demand.

“You know you could just let me out, right?” Steve raises an eyebrow at you, gesturing towards the key ring that now hangs from your belt loop.

“I have you right where I want you. Now, come’ere.” He sits cross-legged right on the edge of the bars, snaking his arm through as he had before. You pour antiseptic onto a cotton pad and press it gently to his palm.

“Fuck,” Steve hisses, grabbing your elbow with his other hand.

“Just breathe,” You hum, “It’s only for a second.” He leans his head against the bar, eyes closed. “So, what exactly were you trying to do when you broke my window?”

“Well, I was just trying to get your attention, you know, like always.”

~

You pull your headphones off, still hearing that consistent tapping that you convinced yourself was just part of the song. Pausing your tape, you listen more intently, trying to figure out exactly where the noise was coming from. It took another minute before you heard it again. You ran over to the window just in time to see a handful of pebbles hitting the glass.

“Steve?” Sticking your head through the open window, you can see him clearly now, bent down to grab his next handful of pebbles.

“Finally!” He throws his hand in the air dramatically, spinning in a quick circle. “I tried to just come right in but you’ve got your window locked. That’s smart. You never know what kinda creeps are out there.” Steve grunts as you pull him through the window, at first you think in effort, until you see his face.

“Jesus Christ!” His face was bruised and swollen with bandages randomly placed on whatever cuts they would fit on. The area near his nose was especially affected and you feared it might be broken. “I’m gonna throw up.”

“It’s good to see you too.”

“What the hell happened to your face?” He sat on the edge of your bed, fiddling with your walkman. You riffled through your drawers, trying to find some first aid.

“Billy Hargrove.”

“What the new kid? What problem does he have with you?” Your search was futile. You would have to risk going out into the bathroom and maybe the kitchen for some ice. “Forget it. Just stay here and keep quiet.”

You tiptoe out of your room, avoiding the parts of the wood floor you knew were the creakiest. Poking through the freezer, you find a long since forgotten bag of peas and shove them under your arm. You also open one of the drawers and pull out a pair of scissors for the inevitable bandaging you’d be stuck with. Finally, you sneak into the bathroom and grab some gauze, cotton pads, antiseptic and q-tips.

“What do you need all that for?” Your dad calls from the couch causing you to freeze. Turning to look at him, you feel a stab of envy. Cradled in his arms is a sleeping Jane. Jane, who you’ve long since stopped asking questions about. Jane who’s now into the punk scene and also covered in blood? Nosebleeds. Right.

“I’ve uh, I’ve got my period,” You mutter, “It’s real rough. Gross shit, really. I’ve got it covered.”  You shove your bedroom door closed, not giving him a chance to say more. Somehow, your father was most attentive when you wanted, no, needed him not to be.`

When you step into your room, Steve is lying on the bed, half asleep by the looks of it. If your father wasn’t home, and you weren’t so afraid he might be passing out, you would just let him stay and sleep it off. But you scoop a hand under his back and sit him back up, listening to his groans all the while. You start to dab away at the wounds as he hisses and whines with every touch.

“You’ve got to stay facing me,’ You sigh. You wouldn’t be able to get any work done if he didn’t stop squirming.

“Shit,” Steve choked as you dabbed at the wound above his eyebrow.

“Here.” You maneuver yourself until you're straddling him, leaving him with nowhere to turn away from. He hesitates for a minute, looking up at you with wide eyes until his hands find a place propped under your thighs, supporting you from atop his lap. This time when you tend to his wounds he just tightens his hold, his fingers digging into your thighs.

“Just breathe,” You tell him, “Just breathe.”

~

“And a few pebbles managed to shatter my window?”

“Well, I was reaching for the pebbles,” Steve huffs, “but I actually just kinda, ya know…grabbed a rock.” He toys with his fresh bandage and you slap his hand away.

“God, you’re shit-faced.”

Both of you find your positions laying on the ground again, this time in silence. You consider leaving again, letting him finish out his punishment in solitude; after all, it’s what he deserves. Even if you did free him, then your dad would be on your ass and you’d much rather be the ass for leaving Steve in a cell. After a while of going over his story in your mind, you sit up.

“Wait, why were you drinking anyway?” Steve rolls over to his side. He doesn’t respond right away and the lack of a smartass answer unnerves you.

“I needed some courage,” He admits. “A lot more than I thought I did apparently.” The way he looks at you, the sincerity and warmth in his brown eyes, puts a pit in your stomach. He wasn’t allowed to look at you that way, not anymore.

“For what?”

You know and he knows you know. You may not have it in all the exact words but you know. The late nights together at Tiff’s as he sat with you through closing, the days spent keeping him company when his parents were God knows where, the movies you’d see three, four times over just spend time together, to be doing something, anything together. You hadn’t known him, for a long time, not really, but all the time you had spent together felt like years. You saw the way he looked at you and you wanted him to look at you like that, you yearned for it but he lied to you. Over and over again. He’d never gotten the chance to officially ask you but you knew he’d wanted to. That was over now.

“For you.”

“No, no.” You burst up from the floor and struggle to rip the key ring off your belt. “You don’t get to do that now. It’s too late.”

“I wanted to ask you. Everyday I wanted to ask you but I-, I felt so guilty about keeping everything from you but I told you the truth. I never lied to you, C.K.. Please, just give me a chance.” Steve’s knuckles are white from gripping the bars when you turn back. You shake your head and toss the keys a few feet from the bars.

“Free yourself, and stop fucking calling me that, I don’t care anymore. I don’t want to see you again.”

~

“Wake up.”

A consistent pressure finds itself on your shoulder and you shrug it off, trying to curl back into the warmth you feel around you. A twin pressure finds your other shoulder and there’s nothing you can do but sit up and rub the sleep out of your eyes.

“Shit, Jane.”

She stands in front of you, her eyes wide and expectant. A single finger extends as she points to Steve’s sleeping form next to you on the couch. You sigh and brush stray hair out of her face.

You had come home from a shift at Tiff’s and before you even had a chance to toe off your shoes, there was a tapping from your bedroom window. Groaning, out the open window you called, ‘Give me ten. I’m sweating like hell and I gotta shower.” Steve gave you a small salute and then flopped down dramatically on the grass with his arms crossed behind his head as if he had only just been stargazing. You laughed to yourself before taking the fastest shower of your life while still cutting time out to shave, just in case. The night was young after all; Jane was off doing who-knows-what and your dad wasn’t due back till morning.

When Steve had finally been let in, he tossed candy, popcorn packets and a couple of tapes on your bed proclaiming he ‘had the goods.’ That’s how you ended up asleep in Steve Harrington’s arms on your living room couch.

Now, you lower Jane’s arm from pointing at Steve. She was growing on you–though you’d never admit that to her–and she seemed to be adjusting well enough to life in Hawkins but she never stopped being so jumpy. Maybe it’s because your dad wouldn’t socialize her, claiming for some ‘because I said so’ reason that you weren’t to say a word about her to anyone else. Even though he had told you she was just a foreign exchange student, you had chalked it up to some sort of secret police operation, like witness protection or something. You would be jumpy too.

“It’s okay,” you assure her, “this is just my friend-”

“Steve.”

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” you sputter, your stomach doing flips.

“Steve. Wake up Steve. Hopper home soon.”

“Shit, shit.” You shove Steve with two hands until he groans to life. Not bothering to give him time to adjust, you yank him by the arm and away into your bedroom as you hear the familiar sound of a truck ambling up the dirt road. You slam the door behind you and run to pry open the window. You had promised to keep whatever relationship you had with Steve a secret from your dad, whether you were just friends or not. It made sense to you, considering he was the police chief and had never been know to approve of you hanging out with the opposite sex but now you think maybe Steve had a different reason for making that pact.

“I’ll call you,” He promises as he begins to climb out the window.

You grab his wrist to stop him, your stomach doing flips as you ask, “How-why did she know you?” Steve’s mouth drops into a frown and he shakes his head slightly. His mouth opens and closes without a word. He swings his leg back over the window sill and grabs both of your hands in his.

“You can’t tell anyone this, C.K., especially not Hopper.” You nod fervently. You just wanted the truth. His eyes make a quick dash between your door and your face. He darts over to lock your door before continuing. “You know a couple weeks ago when I had the fight with Billy? Well, it wasn’t just Billy.” Steve sits down on the edge of your bed and pulls you down to join him. He runs his hands through his hair and sighs. “And you know how all these weird things have been happening in Hawkins lately?”

“Like what happened to Barb Holland?” Frigid air snakes in through your open window, sending a chill up your spine. You wrap your arms around yourself in a tight hug.

“Yeah, like that.” You nod, the broken voices of the Hollands echoing in your ears from the many, many times they paid a visit to your father at the station. “Well, they all kind of come back to this thing that’s really wrong with Hawkins. It’s sort of like, poisoning it.”

“Chemicals?”

“No, not like that, it’s like, ah-” Steve buries his head in his hands. “You’re going to think I’m crazy.”

“I don’t understand what this has to do with Jane, anyway.” You pull one of his hands away from his face, searching his expression.

“You see that’s the thing she’s like a key-the key to all of it.”

“How long have you known about her, Steve?” You stand from the bed as he turns his eyes downward toward his feet, running his hands along the legs of his feet. The walls of the cabin are thin and you can hear your father’s voice as he talks to Jane. “How long?” You plead in a whisper.

“A little over a year…just about.”

“Holy shit!” You cry. Starting to pace, the sick feeling of utter loneliness seeps through you as you remember a year in a secluded cabin with a stranger girl who somehow, through little words, had captured your father’s heart and attention more than you ever had. A hand touches the small of your back and you swat it away.

“C.K.-”

A heavy knock sounds at the door, both of you turning in its direction. “Is everything alright in there?”

“Who else?”

“Huh?” Steve’s eyes don’t leave the door.

“Who else knows about her?” You slap an open palm against his shoulder, forcing him to look at you. He shakes his head, his eyebrows upturned.

“Please, you don’t want to-”

“Who?”

“Mike, Dustin, The Byers, I don’t know–the whole crew!” Steve exclaims, throwing his arms in the air. You sink back down to the edge of the bed, a hand on your chest as your vision begins to blur from tears.

“Nancy?” You croak.

“Yeah, Nancy too.” Steve rubs at his eyes as his gaze returns to the floor. You wipe the tears from your eyes with the heels of your palms, looking up towards the ceiling.

“If you don’t give me an answer, I’m coming in,” Your father’s voice booms from the otherside of the door.

“We should really-”

“I don’t understand,” You sniffed, “why is she here?” Steve’s mouth takes that pattern again of opening and closing without a sound. “Please, before he comes in here.” He places a palm to his forehead and sighs.

“She’s got these powers-”

“Get out!” You cry, standing and shoving Steve towards the window with all the strength you can muster.

“I’m telling you the truth! She opened this portal to-”

“Get out!”

“Harrington!” The door bursts up with a crack and you don’t have to worry about removing Steve yourself because your father is on him in seconds, dragging him by the collar. He claws wildly at the bigger man’s arms but it’s pointless.

“There are these monsters! The demogorgon, the demodogs, the mindflayer!”

You cup your hands over your ears, muffling the rest of the yelling as you climb your way up the bed and into the safety of your blankets. A few moments pass before a small voice breaks the silence.

“You okay?

You pull down the blanket just enough to see Jane peering at you through the doorway.

“Close my door.”

~

“Look, I’m sorry, okay!” Steve exclaims, the slam of his fists against the metal bars reverberating through the small room. You can hear his labored breath as he continues, “You were right, okay? I-I lied to you.” With an arm steadying you against the wall, you stop at the doorway. “Hopper didn’t just arrest me because of the window.” He paces the expanse of his cell as he continues, “Yeah, you see, I don’t know if you noticed but I’m not exactly the stealthiest man alive. The first night I tried to get your attention, I got caught. Hopper’s got these traps around the cabin and I must’ve set one off. He dragged me out by the collar just like he did that last time and he made me swear on my life that I stay away from you, that I never tell you the truth about Hawkins. He told me he’d make my life a living hell if I ever put you in danger.”

You ball your hands into fists, your nails digging into the skin of your palm. “Why would my father give a shit what happens to me?”

Steve slumps down on the bench, scoffing. “How could you say that?”

The nights spent alone at the kitchen table eating a lukewarm microwave dinner with only the bright white sheet of your homework keeping you company, the medals you hang on your wall that you have to congratulate yourself over, the ding of the toaster as the favorite food of some other girl is passed around the breakfast table: these are the things you remind yourself of when you think just maybe you were wrong, that you had nothing to feel sorry over.

“Do you know-” you have to clear your throat before you can force the rest of your question out as you blink rapidly to dry your tempted eyes, “Do you know what it feels like to be replaced?”

“You haven’t-

“Don’t tell me that I haven’t been because I have.” Even though you know it’s the truth, you’ve thought about it for months, you repeat it to yourself quieter, “I have.” A lightheaded feeling surrounds you as your eyes begin to blur with tears. “I know because I’ve been the replacement. I told you about my sister?” Steve’s eyes find the ground as he nods. “Well then you know that it wasn’t long until my dad was on to bigger and better things. I was the replacement for Sara and when that didn’t work–not for my mom, not for my dad–he found something new.” You shrug, a dark laugh escaping your lips before you knew it was coming. “I guess it makes sense she has superpowers. That’s the next big thing, right?” Hot tears sting your cheeks as you continue to laugh to yourself. “Even for you I was just a replacement for Nancy, huh? If I hadn’t been there, it would’ve just been whatever girl was working the counter.”

You sink to the floor, your back resting against the wall as your body is wracked with tears. You pull your legs to your chest, snaking your arms around yourself in a tight hug. There wasn’t a thought you hadn’t had before but to speak them out loud, it made them real.

With your head buried in your knees, you only hear the jingle of the keys as they hit the linoleum floor before a warm pair of arms wraps around you.

“You were never a replacement,” Steve whispers against your hair. “Not to Hop, not to me, not to anyone.” You look up at him, his teary eyes reflecting your own. He cups your face with the palm of one hand. “Listen to me. I was selfish, okay? I spend my time babysitting these insane children–who are much braver than I’ll ever be–as they fight against these fucking nightmare monsters and all I have to defend myself is a shitty baseball bat with nails, that I didn’t even make myself. And when I come home at the end of the day, no one’s even there to pat me on the back and they wouldn’t be there even if I never came home. So even though I promised my life to Hopper, I had to see you. I put you in danger because I didn’t just want you, I needed you.”

“Holy shit, you’re really serious!”

“I’m so fucking seri-”

With a fistful of his shirt in your hand, you pull him flush against you, crashing your lips into his. It’s not a perfect first kiss, far from it as both of you struggle to find a comfortable position but it says more to both of you than you’d ever be able to express in words.

When you pull away, you shake your head incredulously as you laugh, “God, I thought you were crazy!”

Steve tucks your hair behind your ear and smiles, “Baby, you have no idea.”

…

You wake to the sound of birds chirping happily outside. Reveling in the warmth, you burrow back into Steve’s side before you take a second look at your surroundings. The door to the jail cell hangs open,the key ring abandoned not far from your feet. You poke a finger into Steve’s ribs. He wakes with a start before his lips form a crooked smile.

“Hey, I’m free.”

“Well, you won’t be if we don’t get out of here soon,” You laugh, helping him up to his feet. You close the door to the cell and lock it tightly before turning back to Steve. “I’m starving.”

“Breakfast?” Steve smirks, offering you his hand. You take it, eyeing the station lobby quickly before dragging him out. “How about Tiff’s?”

You roll your eyes. “Anywhere but Tiff’s.”

“You know, I make a mean bowl of cereal.”

“You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.”

[magxit]

The Swift Agenda 02 | Aug. 16 to Sep. 20, 2023

Taylor Swift — all the way from the physical and digital sales era — has now surpassed the unstoppable force, streaming juggernaut Bad Bunny as the #2 most-streamed artist in Spotify history.

Despite giving the industry a massive head start in algorithm dominance by removing her music at her peak (2014–2017) and thus losing out on Spotify’s crucial audience-building years, Taylor Swift is now only behind the king of streams, Drake, in the all-time rank and is vying for the Spotify crown as she continually DOUBLES his numbers (with a whopping 40M+ lead) on a daily basis.

It would take her approximately 4 months to ultimately close the 5-billion gap standing between her and the highly coveted title — with the impending release of 1989 (Taylor’s Version) more than ready to offset whatever damage that a new Drake album may cause in the near future.

Taylor Swift has surpassed Metallica and is now the #19 best-selling artist of all time (via @chartmastersorg ), shifting 168,860,000 equivalent album units since the start of her legendary seventeen-year career, solidifying her status as the de facto leader of today’s music industry and widening the ASTRONOMICAL gap between her and the remaining 21st-century artists in the all-time Top 100 (with the nearest one having 121M):

— Taylor in the 160M–169M range — 0 artists in the 150M–159M range — 0 artists in the 140M–149M range — 0 artists in the 130M–139M range — 5 artists in the 100M–129M range — 5 artists in the 80M–99M range — 5 artists in the 60M–79M range

Taylor Swift’s “The Eras Tour” movie takes the world by storm as it shatters the 24-hour pre-sales record in AMC’s eleven-decade history, edging out several Marvel blockbusters.

With its STAGGERING demand, it will swiftly claim the title for the biggest concert film of all time (and beyond) upon its October 13 release.

Taylor Swift’s “reputation” has surpassed 6 billion streams on Spotify, making her the ONLY artist in history with 4 different albums achieving this feat (Lover, 1989, Midnights, and reputation).

With “folklore” merely 60M+ streams away, Taylor Swift will very soon have FIVE different albums surpassing the 6B milestone — one that is supposedly reserved for A-list artists’ absolute, definitive, career-defining PEAK eras. And, once again, just to let it sink in: she is about to have FIVE.

Taylor Swift has spent SEVERAL more weeks at #1 on Billboard Artist 100, extending her all-time record to 79 weeks.

— Nearest male: 37 — Nearest female: 20 — Nearest group: 21

Taylor Swift’s “Lover” is now the #6 most-streamed female album in Spotify history, surpassing Ariana Grande’s “thank u, next”, becoming the FIRST among the SEVERAL Taylor Swift albums projected to do so.

With 1989 (Taylor’s Version)’s preorders alone ALREADY surpassing folklore’s actual first-week debut (846K), the pop bible’s re-recording is poised to OBLITERATE its predecessor’s original numbers in 2014 (1.287M) and even challenge the streaming-era giant “Midnights” (1.578M) for the biggest Billboard 200 debut for any streamable album ever.

Currently, GoldDerby predictions put Taylor Swift at the helm of the upcoming GRAMMYs:

— #1 frontrunner for AOTY — #1 frontrunner for SOTY — #2 frontrunner for ROTY

Taylor Swift has tied the record for the most VMAs wins in a single night, bagging 9 out of 11 awards and SWEEPING all major categories.

She now holds the all-time winning records for the BIGGEST categories in the VMAs, AMAs, and GRAMMYs.

— most wins for VMAs “Video of the Year” (4x) — most wins for AMAs “Artist of the Year” (7x) — most wins for GRAMMYs “Album of the Year” (3x; tied with Stevie Wonder and Frank Sinatra)

Going way beyond everyone’s wildest dreams, 33 MILLION PUZZLES for the 1989 (Taylor’s Version) Vault were SOLVED in less than a day on Google, signaling an earthshaking demand for what is shaping up to be THE most powerful album release of the decade.

[memesmadefullmetal]

3k Followers Celebration: Best FMA Character Royal Rumble!! 🥊 🤼‍♂️

To celebrate our HUGE milestone of reaching 3000 followers, we put together our FMA Character Royal Rumble!!

32 characters went head-to-head in a winner takes all poll tournament to determine, once and for all, who is the SUPREME FMA character!

The competition was split into several rounds:

Round 1: 16 matches with 32 competitors

Round 2: 8 matches with 16 competitors

Round 3 (THE QUARTERFINALS): 4 matches with 8 competitors

Round 4 (THE SEMI-FINALS): 2 matches with 4 competitors

Round 4.5 (REDEMPTION RUMBLE): 1 match with the 2 losers from Round 4 vying for coveted 3rd place

Round 5 (THE GRAND FINAL): 1 match with the final 2 competitors battling it out to take the crown

The FINAL RESULTS are now below!! 🥇🥈🥉

🥇YOUR WINNER🥇: Alphonse Elric! 🤖

🥈SECOND PLACE🥈: Riza Hawkeye 🦅

🥉THIRD PLACE🥉: Edward Elric 🦾

All Completed Rounds:

Round 1 (Part 1)

Round 1 (Part 2)

Round 2

Round 3 (THE QUARTERFINALS)

Round 4 (THE SEMI-FINALS)

Round 4.5 (REDEMPTION RUMBLE)

Round 5 (THE GRAND FINAL)

Thank you to everyone who voted, reblogged our polls with excellent tags, sent us inboxes & propaganda and got involved! We love y’all! 🫶🏻

- Mod Mustang & Mod Hawkeye 🔥🦅

———————————————————————

💥FMA’s Biggest Loser Tournament!💥

You thought it was over? It is now! To celebrate October 3rd, we had all our unlucky losers fight it out for top (or bottom?) spot!

All the information for how this tournament was ran is 👉🏻here if you need it!

Your Biggest Loser: Hohenheim!

(Art courtesy of @g1ngerbeer! ❤️)

Grand Final [Complete]: x

Round 1 [Complete]:

• [x] Match 1

• [x] Match 2

• [x] Match 3

• [x] Match 4

Thank you again for being so involved with this tournament! It’s been a blast! 🤩

- Mod Mustang & Mod Hawkeye 🔥🦅

[glossary2]

Unlocking the Fast Lane: Strategies to Reach 1000 Subscribers Faster on YouTube

In today's digital era, YouTube has become more than just a platform for sharing videos—it's a gateway to creativity, community, and potentially, a source of income. Whether you're a budding content creator or a seasoned YouTuber looking to expand your reach, reaching the milestone of 1000 subscribers is a significant step towards building a successful channel. But with millions of channels vying for attention, how can you accelerate your journey to 1000 subscribers? Here are some proven strategies to help you navigate the YouTube landscape and grow your subscriber base at a faster pace:

Define Your Niche: To stand out in the crowded YouTube ecosystem, it's essential to carve out your niche. Focus on creating content that aligns with your interests, expertise, and audience preferences. Whether it's gaming, beauty, tech reviews, or lifestyle vlogs, finding your niche will attract like-minded viewers who are more likely to subscribe to your channel.

Consistent Content Creation: Consistency is key to building a loyal subscriber base. Develop a content schedule and stick to it. Whether you upload weekly, bi-weekly, or daily, maintaining a consistent posting schedule helps keep your audience engaged and coming back for more.

Optimize Your Videos for Search: YouTube is the second largest search engine in the world, so optimizing your videos for search can significantly boost your discoverability. Conduct keyword research using tools like Google Keyword Planner or TubeBuddy to identify relevant keywords and phrases for your niche. Incorporate these keywords into your video titles, descriptions, and tags to improve your chances of appearing in search results.

Engage with Your Audience: Building a community around your channel is essential for long-term growth. Take the time to respond to comments, ask for feedback, and engage with your audience both on and off the platform. Hosting live streams, Q&A sessions, or collaborating with other creators are great ways to foster a sense of community and encourage viewers to subscribe.

Create Compelling Thumbnails and Titles: Your video thumbnails and titles are the first things viewers see when browsing YouTube. Make sure they're eye-catching, compelling, and accurately represent the content of your videos. A well-designed thumbnail paired with an intriguing title can entice viewers to click on your video and ultimately subscribe to your channel.

Promote Your Channel on Other Platforms: Don't limit your promotional efforts to just YouTube. Leverage other social media platforms like Instagram, Twitter, Facebook, and TikTok to promote your channel and reach a wider audience. Share teasers, behind-the-scenes content, or snippets of your videos to drive traffic back to your YouTube channel.

Collaborate with Other Creators: Collaborations are a powerful way to tap into each other's audiences and reach new viewers. Identify creators within your niche or related niches and reach out to them for potential collaborations. Whether it's a joint video, shoutout, or guest appearance, collaborating with other creators can expose your channel to a broader audience and help you gain more subscribers.

Optimize Your Channel for Conversions: Make it easy for viewers to subscribe to your channel by optimizing your channel layout and CTAs (call-to-actions). Include a subscribe button in your channel banner, create compelling channel trailers that encourage new visitors to subscribe, and add subscription links in your video descriptions and end screens.

Monitor and Analyze Your Performance: Keep a close eye on your YouTube Analytics to understand what's working and what's not. Track metrics like watch time, audience retention, click-through rate (CTR), and subscriber growth rate to identify patterns and trends. Use this data to refine your content strategy and optimize your approach for faster subscriber growth.

Stay Patient and Persistent: Building a successful YouTube channel takes time, effort, and perseverance. Don't get discouraged by slow growth or setbacks along the way. Stay patient, stay consistent, and continue refining your content and strategy. With dedication and determination, you'll reach the milestone of 1000 subscribers and beyond.

In conclusion, reaching 1000 subscribers on YouTube is a significant achievement that requires strategic planning, consistent effort, and a deep understanding of your audience and niche. By implementing these proven strategies and staying focused on delivering value to your viewers, you'll be well on your way to reaching your subscriber goals faster than you ever thought possible. So roll up your sleeves, unleash your creativity, and let's grow that subscriber count together!

To know More :

Unlocking the Fast Lane: Strategies to Reach 1000 Subscribers Faster on YouTube

[pearllemon-classics]

Cruising Through Dreams: Bucket List Classic Car Events Around the World

Fasten your seatbelts, my fellow motor enthusiasts! We’re about to embark on an exhilarating adventure through the globe’s most iconic classic car events. From the heart-pounding roar of engines on Europe’s legendary circuits to California’s sun-kissed streets, these must-attend events are guaranteed to fuel your passion for vintage motoring. Whether you’re a seasoned aficionado or just daydreaming about owning a classic car one day, these events offer a sneak peek into the very essence of automotive history. So, don your driving gloves and join us as we journey through the ultimate classic car experiences worldwide!

1. Goodwood Festival of Speed

West Sussex, England

Tucked away in the undulating landscapes of West Sussex, England, lies the Goodwood Festival of Speed — a paradise for car lovers. This annual spectacle presents a breathtaking collection of classic cars, from timeless racers to contemporary supercars, all vying for glory on the legendary Hillclimb course. Goodwood seamlessly weaves together nostalgia and exhilaration, promising an indelible experience for devotees across generations. Picture yourself delving into the rich legacy and sophistication of classic automobiles at events like this one. Pearl Lemon Classics crafts bespoke experiential tours that transport enthusiasts on immersive journeys through the magnificence of classic cars and iconic racing events throughout the UK and Europe. Embrace this opportunity to live your passion!

2. Monterey Car Week

Monterey, California, USA

Every August, the charming coastal town of Monterey, California, transforms into a grand stage for one of the world’s most esteemed classic car events. Monterey Car Week is not just an event; it’s a week-long celebration of automotive brilliance that captures hearts worldwide. From prestigious concours d’elegance to heart-pounding races at Laguna Seca and awe-inspiring auctions where vintage gems find new homes, every moment is steeped in excitement and elegance. Whether you’re marvelling at rare Ferraris on the Pebble Beach Golf Links or embarking on a nostalgic journey along 17-Mile Drive in your own classic car, Monterey Car Week is an absolute must for any car aficionado. With Pearl Lemon Classics, you can immerse yourself in this glamourous spectacle through tailor-made tour packages that promise more than just experiences — they create timeless memories filled with history, sophistication and thrill!

3. Le Mans Classic

Le Mans, France

For those whose hearts beat faster at the thought of endurance racing, there’s no event that compares to the Le Mans Classic. Held every two years on the legendary Circuit de la Sarthe in France, this event is a magnificent homage to motorsport’s golden age. It showcases a captivating collection of vintage race cars, each competing for honour on a track steeped in history and tales of triumph and tragedy. Whether you’re basking in the thunderous symphony of classic prototypes from the grandstands or soaking up the electric atmosphere in the bustling paddock, Le Mans Classic is an adventure that every racing enthusiast should experience. Picture yourself standing amidst history at Circuit de la Sarthe, where Pearl Lemon Classics offers exclusive insights and access to private collections — ensuring an immersive experience at events like Le Mans Classic that truly encapsulate vintage motoring’s timeless allure.

4. Woodward Dream Cruise

Detroit, Michigan, USA

Heralded as the globe’s grandest one-day car festival, the Woodward Dream Cruise is an unparalleled homage to American automotive heritage. Each August, a cavalcade of classic cars invades Detroit’s historic Woodward Avenue, morphing it into a dynamic exhibition of motoring milestones. From brawny muscle cars to sizzling hot rods, and from vintage trucks to bespoke cruisers — the Dream Cruise is a visual and auditory banquet. It offers live music, culinary delights and boundless chances for reminiscing with fellow aficionados. Immerse yourself in exhilarating events like the Woodward Dream Cruise with Pearl Lemon Classics — nurturing a community of passionate enthusiasts and crafting unforgettable experiences within the pulsating realm of retro motoring.

5. Classic Days Schloss Dyck

Jüchen, Germany

Imagine being enveloped by the serene beauty of North Rhine-Westphalia, Germany, where Schloss Dyck stands majestically as the stage for one of Europe’s most esteemed classic car events. Classic Days Schloss Dyck is more than a weekend event; it’s a jubilant celebration of automotive history that captivates and thrills. From admiring the timeless elegance of pre-war classics to experiencing the heart-pounding excitement of vintage race cars in action, Schloss Dyck offers an all-encompassing journey into automotive heritage for enthusiasts across generations. Picture yourself at Classic Days Schloss Dyck, where Pearl Lemon Classics nurtures a passionate community and provides personalised attention, crafting indelible memories in the enchanting realm of vintage motoring.

As we draw the curtain on our thrilling journey through the world’s most coveted classic car events, it becomes resoundingly evident that the fervour for vintage motoring is a universal phenomenon. Whether you’re meticulously planning your next escapade or simply harbouring dreams of one day possessing a classic beauty, remember that an exhilarating world of vintage motoring stands ready to set your passion ablaze and fuel your aspirations. With organisations like Pearl Lemon Classics offering bespoke tours tailored to enthusiasts craving immersive experiences amidst majestic classic cars and iconic racing events, the opportunities are boundless. So come along! Let’s revel in the timeless legacy of classic cars and salute the vibrant community of enthusiasts who keep the flame of vintage motoring burning brightly!