#and as usual keys galore

[shiny-eyed-corvid]

(mostly) shiny things I found on the ground in NYC July-August 2024

[murdrdocs]

HAUNTING YOUR BED. mike schmidt

description. you, mike, and abby bake a chocolate cake and mike gets to taste it from your lips

→ pt 2 to nothing real

includes. GN! reader (i think), simp mike, abby !!!!, fluff galore, more pining, more domesticity, kissing, one boner mention

wc: 2.2k+

a/n: finally wrote a pt 2 to something who would've thought. title from haunt//bed

When Mike opens the door, he’s too tired to see straight. 

His shift ended earlier than he originally anticipated and since he’d clocked out, his body was begging for a shower and sleep. Maybe even just sleep, depending on how comforting his bed looked. If he could tolerate it, maybe even a few bites of a frozen meal. 

This is his original plan. 

But somehow due to the sleep induced haze, Mike had forgotten that you were babysitting Abby tonight. Not the sitter that had taken your place for a couple of nights, completely incomparable to you to the point where Mike didn’t even waste his time. Abby, though, spent a solid ten minutes each night complaining about the temporary sitter and another five minutes longing for you. 

(Mike felt the same but he would never let Abby know lest he wanted you to find out within 2 business days) 

So truthfully, whenever Mike opens the door, he’s too tired to see straight, and then as soon as he steps into his home, his vision clears up just enough to see you in the kitchen and his body introduces a burst of energy spurred on by your light squeal and suddenly he can tolerate an hour spent with you and Abby. 

“Shit!” your swear shocks Abby as much as it does Mike, the word foreign to his ears from your mouth but it sounds completely natural when you say it. It’s small, a tiny detail, but it reminds Mike that he doesn’t know you. At least, not the you that exists out of the four walls of the Schmidt household. 

He doesn’t know what you wear when you’re not babysitting, or what your nonprofessional personality is like. He’s sure you’re more or less the same, but for some reason, Mike wants to consider the opposite. 

Despite his rampant overthinking, Abby points at the jar sitting on the end table towards the entrance of the home. 

“Swear jar!” she alerts you. Or maybe it’s more of a command. Either way, you shamefully step away from the counter, wipe your hands on the apron you wear, and start to walk out of the kitchen. 

Mike guesses you’re heading for your purse, which he assumes is most likely sitting on the bench in front of the window where it usually is. Your plans are halted when you’re made aware of Mike’s presence, and when you say “oh”, Mike feels like he’s living his days over again. 

Just a few weeks ago, a similar circumstance, a similar feeling. 

Mike touches his hair at the memory, hoping it’s long enough to warrant another cut from you, but it’s the perfect length and he drops his hand. 

“Hey,” he greets you first, trying to remain calm and behave how he usually does. But suddenly he doesn’t know how to. Does he usually say ‘hey’? Or has he been saying ‘hi’ this entire time and didn’t realize it? Maybe even ‘hello’? 

You seem to care less about that than Mike does, greeting him back casually and then continuing your journey to your purse. Mike watches as you dig around in it for a second, pull a dollar out, and then slide it through the created slip in the top of the mason jar. 

Then, you reenter the kitchen and Mike suddenly realizes that time has been moving around him and he’s been stuck between it all, too enamored by you engaging in minute movements to do so himself. 

He throws his keys in the bowl and slips his shoes off. 

“What’s uh …” He steps into the kitchen, attempting to get a glimpse at what Abby is doing. She’s staring down at the counter, standing on a small step stool that makes her a lot taller than the counter instead of being a few inches off. “What’s going on in here?” 

Abby turns around, and Mike gets a glimpse of a big plastic bowl in front of her, along with the carton of eggs, the jug of vegetable oil, and a cake mix box. 

If he needs even more clarification, Abby happily declares: “We’re making a cake!” 

Initially, Mike’s upset. His logical (grumpy, in Abby’s words) side comes out and he’s thinking about how at least two eggs that could’ve been used for breakfast has gone down the drain and cake provides no nutritional value so not only is Abby going to be hungry, she’s also going to be bouncing off the walls from the sugar intake. 

His thoughts show on his face, just like they always do, and then Mike is looking over at you from where you’re grabbing the whisk out of the drawer and your head lifts. “I dropped the shells into the bowl,” you add, initially oblivious to Mike’s inner turmoil. Your mishap explains your out of character swearing, and Mike would comment on it but instead he’s trying to make his face neutral. 

But you see it, the exhaustion and slight frustration and worry. 

You send him a smile that’s nothing more than one side of your lips pulling into your cheek, pronouncing the apple of it that presents a faux complimentary color to your skin tone. You look … upset? Are you upset? 

Mike can’t tell and this makes him feel worse. 

He decides that instead of pouting and grumbling about it, he unzips his jacket, throws it onto the kitchen table, rolls the sleeves of his thermal up, and then steps to join you two. 

“Let me help.” 

Mike ends up wearing a pink apron that he knows for sure does not belong to the Schmidt household. At least, it didn’t whenever he left for work. 

Mike attempts to hide his surprise whenever Abby excitedly tells him that you brought the apron for him. His eyebrows lift, he looks over at you, and you’re suddenly really focused on the written instructions on the back of the cake box even though they really are incredibly simple. 

“Really? She did?” 

Abby hums and Mike hopes you’ll look over at him, but you don’t, instead gnawing on your bottom lip and squinting as you concentrate even harder. 

“Mm. It’s cute. I like it.” And that’s when you lift your eyes, sending them over to Mike to give him a quick once over. 

“It suits you,” you compliment, just before putting the box down and grabbing the cake pan. 

Some time has passed. The cake has been baked, decorated (white frosting with pink, green, and yellow swirls from Abby), and eaten with slightly freezer burnt ice cream. Abby has pouted when Mike declared one giant slice was enough for her. 

The shower has turned on and off, Abby has run into the living room to give you a hug and say goodnight, and now comes the part that Mike hates the most. 

He’s still tired, maybe minutely more energetic from the sugary cake, but his body is still begging for a good rest. Yet, he doesn’t want you to leave. 

You start to grab your things, jacket pulled back on, purse thrown over your shoulder. Just before you can slip your shoes on, Mike stands from his spot on the recliner. 

“Do you want another slice?” He gestures lamely at the cake on the kitchen table. “We can’t eat this all on our own and I refuse to let Abby try.” 

A small laugh from you as you shake your head. “No, it’s okay. Abby should be able to enjoy the fruits of her labor.” 

“She’ll enjoy it too much until she has a cavity and I have a dentist bill.” A pause where your eyes shift over to the cake, then back to Mike. 

“I really don’t want to overstay my welcome.” 

“If that’s what you’re worried about then you’ve got it all wrong.” Mike replies as he walks to the cabinets, pulling out two small plates and then two forks right beneath it. He slices the cake, the pieces almost proportionate but you seem to have gotten just a bit more. 

Maybe it’ll take you longer to eat and Mike will be in your presence for just a bit more. 

It’s silent for just a few moments before you’re talking about everything and nothing all at the same time. 

Raves about the cake the three of you made turns into reminiscing about the triple chocolate cake they used to serve at Sparky’s before they underwent new management. The talk of new management turns into you ranting to Mike about the manager at your day job and Mike listens intensely, thrilled to have a new piece of information to add to the puzzle of your life. When you apologize, a little shy and maybe even embarrassed, Mike shakes it off instantly. 

“Don’t apologize for speaking your mind,” he tells you. You joke about the line being poetic and Mike finds himself revealing that he used to write teenage angst poetry in his bedroom at night. When you laugh, it’s not as if you’re belittling him, it’s different. Light, airy, filled with enthusiastic shock and a little bit of wonder. 

It makes him laugh, too, and for a moment he forgets that his sister is sleeping just down the hall. 

You both seem to remember at the same time, laughter tapering off into small intakes of air and then fizzling off completely in the vibrant night air. 

He glances at the clock on the wall. 

10:47. 

“It’s getting late,” Mike thinks out loud. 

When he turns back to you, you look a little sadder. “I guess I should get going then, yeah?” 

Shit. Mike wants the opposite. He wants you to stay over for the night. He’ll take the couch if it means you’ll take his bed. He wonders if the small space would smell like you afterwards. He pictures you sleeping in his clothes, forced to wear them instead of the jeans and sweater you wear now. 

He’s thinking too far ahead. 

“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that.” 

You stand anyway, taking a final bite of your cake before you set the fork down. There’s still a tiny piece left, waiting for you, just as Mike is. 

He stands too. 

“No, it’s okay. You have work in the morning and I shouldn’t be on the road this late anyway.” Your jacket is zipped up, your purse is back over your shoulders. 

Mike says your name, firm despite the low volume. It’s vulnerable, a plea almost. It stops you, makes you look at him with wide and wondering eyes. 

It’s on him now. He’s the one who has to speak. 

He takes a breath. He licks his lips. 

“I would like it if you stayed. Honest.” 

His admission has weight to it. The words are that of a concerned friend, but the way his hands nervously play with his jeans and the way his eyes bounce around the room with your frame as a continuous anchor says much more than the eight words could have. 

Your voice just barely shakes when you speak. “Tell me I’m reading this wrong.” 

He shakes his head. “You’re not.” 

In the nervous energy that rakes through Mike’s body, it’s unclear to him who moves first. All he knows is one moment he’s staring into your eyes, and then the next his lips are against yours. 

The kiss is soft, nothing more than the lengthened press of lips against lips. His hand cradles the side of your face, yours bunches the fabric of his thermal around his bicep. And while it might be nothing objectively, it’s so much to Mike. For him to finally feel your lips against his, rougher than he imagined but even that means something to him. 

It’s euphoric. 

Your lips pull back from each other, but neither of you move. So, Mike is clear this time whenever he initiates, giving you one more safe kiss before he starts moving his lips against yours. Still, it’s polite, just like you deserve. 

His free hand presses into your middle back, pulling your chest into his. He tilts his head just a little for comfort. He’s holding back. 

You, on the other hand, aren’t. 

You pull Mike impossibly closer to you by his shirt, your other hand digging into the short hair at the back of Mike’s head. You turn the kiss into one of more desperation, parting your lips to introduce open mouthed kisses instead, slipping your tongue against his. 

Mike is trying to keep his composure as he reciprocates. He’s trying to muffle his little sounds before they even come out, push them down his throat. But they climb up anyway, jumping from his mouth to yours with the access. 

He can’t control himself whenever your body is pressed against his. He can’t hold back when he tastes the chocolate cake on the tip of your tongue and the mint leftover from the gum you’d been chewing earlier in the night. He presses his hips against yours, shamelessly displaying the tent that’s growing. He runs his hands along your sides and back and hips, feeling every curve he has analyzed with only his eyes from afar. You’re softer up close and it makes Mike want to feel you as you are, devoid of any clothing to cover you. He hopes he’ll get his wish soon. 

You pull away and Mike has to restrain himself from following your lips. 

“If I stay over,” his ears instantly perk up. “Can I wear your plaid pajama pants?” 

The grin he gives you is genuine. It hurts his cheeks and heals his soul. 

“Of course.”

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Knight König who, after bravelly defending the castle alone and saving all the beautiful young maidens, is now *gasp* alone with them!! You and the rest of the young ladies are not even married yet and this whole horror of a siege came :(( you had to be locked inside the maiden tower with the other ladies, praying to the gods that someone strong would defend you, and here he was!! The giant knight from the north from whom you were always herded away 'because a brute like him has no business with fine young ladies like yourselves' :((

Imagine König who is for the time being the only male in the small castle, the foe has been defeated but any kind of help will take days to arrive :( During the fighting his mind was on slaying all the enemies to defend the flock of the frightened ladies but now...??

He's the only male among a dozen of maidens!! And these poor does are so scared in their tower on comfy beds of furs with all the supplies...so many warm, soft bodies to keep him warm and 'aid him to help his wounds', so many broad hips and breasts to grab and squeeze for comfort...oh and they are so ready to share all the supplies with him!!

I mean...who's to say that a war hero doesn't deserve something good too? :D

GFDFSSSS first I was like "gangbang medieval style yeehaw let's gooo" but then I had another quick idea (in all honesty writing gangbangs make me blush furiously lmao I'm weak!)

CW: Fear of SA, mention of blood, boners galore, dubcon groping, period typical attitudes, gender roles etc.

Knight!König asking you to wash him (because he was seated next to you at this one feast and now he's obsessed...)

König, who never had time for women because he was always on duty, whose best chances for a wife were an old widow or some soiled woman, whatever that meant... Probably some lowly lady, for a lowly knight like him. His family must hate him because they keep him from having even that: instead, he gets shipped off to this outpost of a castle that houses hundreds of soldiers and only a few women. Even they are kept under lock and key most of the time, and it's no wonder... A man like him shouldn't even be dreaming of dipping his dick in the pretty soft things of the Maiden’s tower.

König, who even to his own surprise, finds himself victorious after weeks of siege. Who's left completely unchecked and alone with a flock of scared fawns, poor does who are now gathering together for warmth and safety. They only have tiny daggers and iron scissors as their weapons against an armed knight, knowing they’re not always safe even from their own men – especially after a battle.

Even the strongest, most valiant knights get tired during a siege, turning into starved animals after a few weeks. A soldier fresh from war is the worst thing, having his cock up after bloodying his sword, they usually need to have a woman as soon as possible. A victorious knight, finding himself winning against all the odds, would surely prefer to fuck every single one of the soft cunts locked up in the women's tower...

So König, who batters the door and orders the frightened women to lift the baulk, only gets screams as an answer. They finally open it when he says he's tired after a fight and only wants to rest for a bit, puts on his most charming smile as the huge wooden door creaks open, and meets the ladies with a wide grin despite having blood all over him, stands proudly in his full height with his sword still drawn, a path of entrails and cut limbs behind him – why are they still screaming? He saved them! He should be given a royal welcome!

König, who finally gets the women to calm down a little when they notice he is not about to rape them on sight, who wipes his sword with one of their finest, freshly dyed wools (rude!). Who sheathes his weapon and smiles again, suggesting that they help him out of his plate and give him a wash – he’s earned that much, no?

König, who eats from their bowls as if he has never even seen food, who gawks at their tapestries with curiosity, who tries to stare down their necklines and catch a sight of those beautiful, round, plush tits. Most women quickly rush to heat the water to escape the possible groping about to ensue, while you are left with the task of getting him out of his armor.

The straps are small and endless, the armor consists of dozens of different parts, and he just keeps on grinning widely while you’re at it, giving you odd compliments and passages of courtly love with his mouth full of food. Some of his ramblings are straight out of a troubadour’s song, but you don’t believe a word he says, especially when his heated stare is fixed on your exposed neck, the collarbones so frail, the cascading wool that reveals your wrists as you try to pry your way under the heavy, bloodied pauldron.

Of course he remembers you, down to the minutest detail because he got to feed and take care of you at last winter's great feast... Someone had fucked up and seated you next to him in their error, and he heedily took advantage of the situation. He even managed to have a grope at you when the lords and ladies weren’t watching because they were so drunk.

He was drunk too, intoxicated by the strong ale and the shy stares you granted him. You didn’t do a thing when he pulled you closer and practically fed you some deer off your shared plate, tried if you'd fancy a date or a sip of wine while keeping you tightly tucked in his lap. He couldn’t get enough of you: your tiny gasp when you felt him grow hard, your whimper when he stole a soft squeeze of your tit… Your shy ghost of a smile as you demurely called him “Sir” and told him to stop before he gets you both into trouble. 

Ever since that night, he has dreamed of you when pulling out his leaking cock. Sinned until he felt embarrassed to go to the chapel and yet again confess that he has defiled himself with his hand and thoughts of you. Ever since that night, he has wondered whether you are giving those whimpers to someone else nowadays…

But here you are, in the tower, taking off his plates and using all your strength to get him out of his chainmail. Why haven’t you been married off yet? Why aren't you making blankets and throws at some fancy lord's castle by now? You have the perfect hips for delivery, it's practically a sin to keep a woman like you locked up in a military fortress…

And polite curtsies and shy, downcast eyes won't save you now, you know that.

How can you say no to a knight, ordering you to give him a wash? “Do him the honor,” he says, while anyone can see he’s already hard.

There’s nothing the others can do but put up a curtain and leave you two to your featherlight privacy. He doesn’t even bother to undress behind it, simply flaunts that monstrous thing between his legs for everyone to see before giving you the honor of strolling to the steaming bath. A soft silence fills the tower as the knight, tall as a legend, hairy as a beast, climbs into the small wooden tub with a grunted sigh.

You, the maiden he picked, can only look in horror as he grows even harder under the hot water. The thick erection soon juts above the surface, the dark curls framing the base of his cock now floating lusciously underwater, the dark hair covering his full balls, too. Either he's just big everywhere or then he's been too busy during the weeks of the siege... The amount of times you've seen him abstain from meat in this castle is ridiculous, and you always wondered if he ate fish because he liked it or because he had defiled himself in his lust.

He's an animal, but having a woman is not a sin as foul as throwing his seed on the ground... And here he is, strong thighs spreading as far as they can go to give room to the astounding erection he’s having just from the prospect of your touch.

The knight leans back in the tub, looks at you with a drowsy, soft smile, and tells you not to be afraid. The thick, throaty voice leaves your knees completely weak.

“Ach so... Have you ever touched one of these before?”

[sitp-recs]

15 Christmassy fics to read (or reread) this month

This rec list is for @annakendricks who sent an ask about Christmas reads and also dedicated to @lettersbyelise for supporting this idea 💜 Despite the winter blues, December will always lighten up my mood with the holiday spirit. This month has been pretty hectic for me but I can’t wait to get some time off and indulge my fave Christmassy rereads. Come and join me if you like! Here you’ll find a little bit of everything: soft and contemplative, smutty, crack-y, movie AU, holiday romance and even Gen fic, which is not my usual fare but fit the theme perfectly. Pick your flavour and Happy Holidays!

🎄A Christmas Happenstance by Only_1_Truth (E, 5.5k)

The Hogwarts School for the Gifted and Supernatural had classes year-round, but the dormitories emptied out regularly on holidays as if the students were suddenly becoming allergic to the walls. Both humans and non-humans mingled freely in the surrounding town of Hogsmeade. Draco Malfoy, however, isn't feeling in the mood after a rather spectacular break-up.

🎄A Charitable Christmas by Alisanne (E, 5.6k)

Hermione’s plans to raise money for war orphans do not meet with Harry’s approval. Fortunately, Draco steps in to help him come up with a much more enjoyable strategy.

🎄A Hippogriff for Christmas by @xanthippe74 (G, 6.4k)

Draco is desperately trying to fulfill four-year-old Scorpius’ dearest wish for Christmas: a visit with a real Hippogriff. Harry is desperately trying to be left alone, safely tucked away from the attention of the wizarding world as Hogwarts’ Keeper of the Keys and Grounds.

🎄Surviving the Horde by FleetofShippyShips (T, 7k)

Draco has managed to avoid Christmas at the Burrow for ten years, but not this year.

🎄Tidings of Comfort by @blamebrampton (G, 10k)

When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life. Luckily for Draco Malfoy, London has places where the tired can rest and recover.

🎄Love, Actually, is All Around by @punk-rock-yuppie (T, 10k)

It's Christmastime, and Harry has just started as the new Minister of Magic. It just so happens that Draco works in his office as well, a holdover from Kingsley's tenure. Naturally, love is in the air.

🎄break the bad luck in my life by seaworn (E, 12k)

Draco and Harry are both brooding on Christmas Eve.

🎄All Roads Lead Home by @dracogotgame (G, 15k)

Draco is strong-armed into spending the first Christmas after the War with the Weasleys. And Harry Potter.

🎄Love All Lovely by @shealwaysreads (T, 19k)

Draco comes home for Christmas, and discovers that sharing is the best way of celebrating old traditions, and new ones too.

🎄Waking Up Slow by @sweet-s0rr0w and @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm (E, 22k)

'Twas the night before Christmas, although it’s July / Draco’s a shopkeeper, no-one knows why / There’s hiking and witch caves, freak snowfalls and more / Bad Christmas jumpers, nosy neighbours galore / Narcissa’s here too, but… something’s amiss / And what’s in those chocolates that’s making them kiss?

🎄I'll Floo Home for Christmas by jadepresley (T, 39k)

The Ministry Christmas party is the biggest event of the year and Harry absolutely does not want to plan it, and he certainly, one hundred percent, does not have a crush on Draco Malfoy.

🎄The Romantic Prawn Who Loved Christmas by @bixgirl1 (E, 39k)

When Draco, forced into sharing a room with Potter for the year, finds out that Potter has a sleepwalking problem, he expects the odd conversations and the weird games of chess. What comes as a complete shock are Potter's other activities...And why he seems so intent on having Draco join him.

🎄December Never Felt So Wrong by @maesterchill (E, 50k)

'Twas the month before Christmas and sixteen year old Draco Malfoy had never felt worse. His attempts to kill Dumbledore were failing and, as usual, Harry Fucking Potter was a constant thorn in his side. All that suddenly changed when Draco woke up 15 years in the future and discovered that not only was he allegedly shagging Harry Fucking Potter, he also had thinning hair and a five year old son, and no fucking clue how he got there.

🎄A Room Up There (And You In It) by @the-starryknight (T, 59k)

When Preservationist Draco Malfoy was assigned to work on Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, he was excited to delve into the gorgeous Black family antiques. His excitement quickly ended when something in the House decided it did not like his presence one bit.

🎄All Must Draw Near by Saras_Girl (M, 61k)

Harry doesn't have time for rumours; he has a shop to run. Which is just as well, really.

[sytoran]

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑, 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 (𝐈 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋) ⌇ wanda maximoff

summary: you used to think that nothing could heal the scars wanda left on you. but time can heal, and so can natasha romanoff.

☰ PAIRING: (past) wanda x gn!reader, (present) natasha x gn!reader, (present) vision x wanda

☰ TAGS: modern!au, angst, hurt no comfort, heavy angst, jealous!wanda, happy and healthy!reader, natasha romanoff is an angel, wanda has past trauma, i will make you feel bad, god there's so much angst

☰ NOTES: men dni | this is based off a request i got on AO3

this is part 2 of a two-part fic, here is part 1 | masterlist

time skip: eleven months later

once upon a time not so long ago, you thought you would never be able to get over wanda maximoff.

she had entrapped you, in every state of matter, and freedom was an option you didn’t get the liberty to pick. that was, until you met natasha romanoff. turns out you had a thing for redheads, huh.

though it had been difficult, natasha helped you get over the emotional trauma wanda had implanted. slowly but surely, your heartstrings were mended by the angel the heavens sent. slowly but surely, you managed to untangle yourself from wanda’s web of lies.

it was eleven months and going strong with natasha, but that also meant that the next christmas had rolled around again. decorations galore, you felt rather nostalgic as you walked the cold streets with natasha’s hand in yours.

“baby, baby, look,” natasha said with excitement, basically dragging you along to one of those claw machines with the christmas-themed stuff toys.

one thing you had quickly learnt with natasha was that despite her smaller stature, she could easily flip you over in a matter of seconds and chain you down. i mean, it wasn’t like you would complain, though.

you let natasha drag you along, a lovesick smile reaching your eyes. she was laughing about something you didn’t quite decipher, being too occupied with adoring the entirety of your girlfriend.

unbeknownst to you, a certain wanda maximoff was strolling those very streets.

she was with her on-and-off boyfriend, vision. though considered a couple, the toxicity in their ‘love’ was acquaintance at best. he had cheated on her, she did the same in retaliation, but they always somehow ended up together. it was a cycle that repeated itself.

it was unhealthy, she knew, but they sort of used each other as an outlet, to dissolve stress and seek a peace of mind. maybe it was because he was as messed up as she was.

though this ‘peace of mind’ usually ended in arguments more bitter than aragulas, it was nothing compared to the depths of darkness wanda was faced with when she saw you with another girl.

you were stood just a few metres in front of vision and wanda, trying your luck with the claw machine, a redhead cheering you on with a smile of passion of love. you had that frown on your face, with knitted brows and sheer concentration. wanda was rendered speechless as she came to a standstill.

vision didn’t even seem to notice, his monotone ramblings of the fifa world cup fading away. the snow seemed to fall heavier, and the silence grew louder.

wanda just stood, watching as you let out a groan of disappointment when you failed yet again, and natasha laughing amusedly at your comicality.

she gaze burned, not with fire but with ice. it wasn’t tears prickling at her eyes, it was a winter storm. wanda soon realised she wasn’t sad. she was angry. she was jealous.

you were supposed to be hers. it was selfish, she knew, because she had used you in ways that could never be forgiven.

but seeds of selfishness couldn’t blossom without the sprinklings of care.

it was far too late for confessions or apologies, but wanda had always known. it was a dusty book of secrets sealed with lock and key, deep inside her heart. in the depths and corners of something you never got the chance to see the light of, wanda had craved you. not your body, or your ever-willingness, just...... you.

she neglected your feelings because she wanted you to run back. she wanted someone to need her, because no one had ever wanted her. she wanted to break you so she could mend you and claim you as hers.

and maybe that was why she grew selfish.

but maybe that was why she lost you.

but that wasn’t even the worst part, gnawing at her insides till she was nothing but a shell of a lonely young woman. the worst part, the bad ending, or maybe the happy one, was that you were happy.

you looked so…… free, able to love without regret, wonder and awe and passion and admiration swirling in every cell of your existence. you picked up and spun natasha around, both of you whooping with joy when you finally got the plush natasha wanted.

then all of a sudden, before wanda could even react, you and your girlfriend were walking past her and vision, hand in hand.

wanda didn’t dare look up, didn’t dare to meet your eyes, didn’t dare to see your happy smile. she stood there, staring at the ground, fists clenched but steely. her eyes focused on the tiling of the brickwork on the snowy ground.

blistering cold wind rendered wanda’s ears ridden red. her legs were shaking still, but she dared to look up after an eternity of tensed silence. when the cold air reached her face again, you were gone.

wanda would never know if you saw her, if your eyes ever widened with shock or anger, if a ‘merry christmas’ ever fell from your godforsaken lips.

but maybe that was better, knowing she was just a footnote in your history.

and that was when the ice in wanda’s eyes melted, becoming teary pearls of broken promises and unsaid words.

once upon a time not so long ago, wanda maximoff never received her happy ever after.

i wrote this chapter while listening to mr loverman...... i wouldn't say tears were shed, but i would say a bit of my heart crumbled away. i fuckin' love writing angst it leaves me in shambles but maybe i like shambles.

masterlist

[lgbtpopcult]

November WLW entertainment rundown

TV

Love Senior the series, first episode drops on YouTube November 8.

Scott Pilgrim November 17

Black Cake: Season One Premiere – November 1st

Beacon 23: Season One Premiere – November 12

Movies

You’re Not Suppose To Be Here, November 4, Lifetime

You’re Not Supposed to Be Here,” which premieres Nov. 4, stars Stause and Diora Baird as a lesbian couple babymooning in a remote mountain town. Developed from Lauren Caster’s concept, “You’re Not Supposed to Be Here” follows pregnant couple Zoe (Stause) and Kennedy (Baird), who are offered a vacation from their stressful lives when Kennedy’s boss gives them a key to a cabin in the woods. When they arrive, however, they are met with less than welcoming arms, prompting Zoe to sound alarms of homophobia, which Kennedy attempts to tamper down.

Books, Games Music etc

That French Summer

Reeling from a very public scandal, Delia Holland takes refuge in a run-down French chateau. She’s determined to stay out of the lime-light, to rebuild her life, and most of all, to be happy. Guillotining her husband would be the icing on the cake, if only she could find him.

After an accident and a surprise breakup, Paris Bennett finds herself alone on her longed-for French vacation. Her characteristically immaculate plans have fallen apart, and she’s barely holding herself together. Plus, the novelty of being Paris in Paris is rapidly starting to wear off.

But when a thunderstorm brings the two together for a night, something begins to sparkle. Delia’s heart starts to fill with happiness again, and Paris suddenly finds that her carefully laid out plans aren’t as necessary as she thought.

Grumpy neighbors, interfering English teachers, a housekeeper who’s more than she seems, a battered car, an even more battered moped, rats and spiders galore, and a chateau that could fall on their heads at any moment come together to prove that the perfect love story doesn’t have to be perfect at all. Sometimes happiness is there for the taking, as long as you can persuade yourself to choose it.

This Bed We Made

https://store.steampowered.com/app/1243850/This_Bed_We_Made/

"February 17, 1958. Sophie's shift at the Clarington Hotel begins like any other — until she opens the door to room 505 and a crimson light comes out…" Does that appeal to your curiosity? If so, this noir investigation full of guilty pleasures and a nosy maid is perfect for you. And of course, you’ll be able to form all sorts of bonds with the hotel guests you usually work for.

Available for: PC

~The Summer Romance Bloomed From A Lie~

This is a story about finding love to overwrite the feelings for the one they held dearest. A girls love visual novel about summer, love and adolescence.

3 Nov, 2023 https://store.steampowered.com/app/1575980/UsoNatsu_The_Summer_Romance_Bloomed_From_A_Lie/

[thedanniannie]

Fully Enamored - Itachi Uchiha POV fic

You're getting ready for a date night with Itachi. You saved your nicest outfit for tonight, and let's just say Itachi is OBSESSED...

✨️fluff/praise GALORE✨️

Gender neutral reader

(This is written as a POV from Itachi, so while I imagined him, feel free to replace your mental image with any introverted fictional character who has big feelings but can't communicate them to save their life)

Also itachi putting his hand over his mouth is purely an idea from my friend, Ezra. She told me she saw him doing that so you wouldn't see him smile or biting his lip, and it was do hot I had to include it.

.

.

.

"I'm almost done!" they project from the hidden space of their bathroom.

"Don't feel rushed my love. I can wait."

I take my place on the freshly fluffed couch. Examining the usually cluttered coffee table, I can tell they must have lost track of time from cleaning their apartment. It must have been entertaining, to be present to watch them fumble with the unfolded laudry, to watch their eyebrows scrunch together when they organize their belongings, and to look over at them as they curse to themselves for letting their space become so hectic yet again. They did well, the home is spotless. It doesn't bother me to wait for them in the living room, their choice of decor was like a museum. The walls a collage of photos and paintings from family and friends. The coat rack was tipping with more jackets than a single person could need. The shelves filled with trinkets, and I could recognize some of the items from second hand shops and art fairs we had visited together.

Perfect, it was so perfectly them. I could gaze at these walls for days. They were generous with their personality, to me, to their friends, and to their home. But no matter how generous they were, no amount of them could satiate my need for them. Maybe there was a slight lie in what I said earlier, I can't wait. I need to see them now.

Their feet begin to move and I hear the light switch click. I wrap two fingers to cover the corners of my already upturning lips before cocking my head to meet their eyes.

The three seconds that I got to look at them felt like an eternity. An eternity that I was happy to be prisoner in. Their beauty caged my heart, my soul, and never did I wish more than in this moment for a key that could unlock this cage to never exist. Their walls were a gallery, and they were the Louvre. They deserved to be seen by the world, for everyone to know how it feels to be drunk on their ethereal grace, and to be lost in thought by meeting them. But at the same time the world doesn't deserve them. I don't even deserve them. A being so beautiful, even a divine creator from above is in shock and awe. A drug that no parental figure ever warned me about. I look at their eyes, their fly away hairs, their lips, fingertips, the dips in their skin, they way they're fumbling with their belongings right now and the energy I feel shoots up my veins, and it makes me feel dizzy and idiotic. They're excruciating, and it scares me enough to want to run away. It's torturous to sit here and not let myself slip into an uncontrollable and maddening love sickness, that is if I wasn't already. I fear I am all consumed.

"Do I look fine?" They ask me with that insecure and inquisitive tone. Such an aching tone to hear.

But I'm no better. Every time I finally form the words to remind them of their beauty, eventually I find the words are not enough. They're beyond words, but my stomach turns sour when I bring myself out of their trance and the only pathetic sentence that can come out of my mouth is...

"Yes... you look wonderful darling..."

[teenage-mutant-ninja-freak]

Can you do the mob boys reacting to their teenage daughter sneaking out the house/ rebelling?

Mob! Leo

He knows a little about rebelling so he's not totally surprised when he catches his teen daughter sneaking out

but he appreciates guts more than anything

and it was a pretty ballsy move for his kid to defy him like this

she thinks she's being so slick as well, waiting for him to go to bed and creeping out

"And what plans do you have at this time of night? He better be worth the grounding you're about to get"

aannddd she knows she's done for

but she's gotta try, y'know?

with the most innocent look and a sweet as pie voice she turns to him like:

"Daddy, I'm just going out to see a movie with Claire. You remember her, right? No boys or alcohol, just a movie"

he's not fooled

"Oh really, open your bag then?"

time to drop the act

"fine. How long am I grounded for? "

he tells her it's forever but she knows it'll be like a week as per usual

stomps back up the stairs muttering about how she can't wait to move out at 18

Mob! Raph

ok but he's such a big softy

like his daughter could get away with murder, both figuratively and literally.

but he doesn't like her doing anything that could her hurt, like walking around the streets of New York late at night....

he catches her shimmying down a drainpipe out her bedroom window

she's super slow at it so he just goes downstairs and waits for her

"I told you no"

she half jumps out of her skin

she really didn't think he'd know she was doing this

"But dad!"

"I said no, it's 11:30 at night, I don't want you out at this time"

"I'm just going to a friend's house, please? Her dad's picking me up and everything, he'll drop me back too!"

puppy dog eyes galore

he thinks about it for a minute

"I'll drop you off. And pick you up. And if you aren't there, I'm sending your body guards out for you and they will embarrass you in front of your friends. I'll make sure of that"

"Thank you, daddy!"

big hugs

he makes the guards embarrass her anyways as punishment

Mob! Mikey

Oh god he's such a wild card as a parent

but also such a massive push over as a parent

like his kids really aren't used to being told "no"

but when he says "no" he fucking means it

so when he catches his daughter with a bottle of raspberry vodka in one hand and his car keys in the other... shit is about to hit the fan

she hears it before she even realises what's happened

the bottle of vodka smashing on the floor

then there's what he says

because Mikey doesn't yell, he actually gets real quiet when he's angry

"Is this what I fucking get? for raising you, caring for you, protecting you? this blatant disregard for my rules and wishes? Who are you sneaking out to see? Because I fucking swear that if it's the boy you've been making eyes at all semester, he won't make it to school on Monday or ever again. Do you understand?"

he sort of realises he fucked up once she starts balling her eyes out and shaking

after that he clams down and they go back inside for some daddy/daughter rebuilding trust.

she's fine the next day but never sneaks out again

Mob! Donnie

one dad you do not want to fuck with

he plays the long game

he see's her sneak out, and follows

obvs he's super discreet and she thinks she's gotten away with it

until her and her friends are drinking and partying and dancing, until they feel comfortable...

then he strikes

armed guards knock down the door, guns pointed in everyone's faces

there's a bit of a scuffle (drunk "hero" teenage boy trying to show he's a big shot) but he gets knocked out pretty quickly

then Donnie appears

he grabs her by the hair, pulling her face close to his and hissing that it's time for them to leave

in the car on the way back, he's eerily calm

she's trying to do damage control, lot's of "i'm sorry" and "it'll never happen again"

"Oh, I know it won't"

she's confused

"I don't want bad influences on my daughter. so you're going to a private school and I've been assured, it's very strict. Your friends are all going to fail their classes and get kicked out of school and they will be made to know it's your fault and I expect a 5000 word essay on why this was such a bad idea in my hand by Wednesday"

she just sobs

after the essay is handed to him, he "forgives her" and doesn't continue with his plan.

but she never does shit like that again.

[aimportantdragoncollector]

I remember the One for All is a Charisma Enhancer headcannons and have had more thoughts, here you go:

One for All as an intelligence Stockpiler. Izuku gets it from Nedzu. Nedzu was a normal rat before receiving one for all. The power is intense. The two tear down society, all for one is defeated by sheer brain power.

One for All as a wisdom stockpiler. Life lessons galore, Izuku knows the meaning of life and distills the truth of the universe. Izuku manages to realize that everyone’s motives are stupid. He can’t convince anyone of this though, since his charisma is terrible.

One for all as a dexterity stockpiler. Agile, good with ranged weapons, sneaky. Eraserhead is perplexed at how this random child is out stealthing him. All of the previous holders are alive and were just in hiding thanks to mad ninja skills.

One for All as a stockpiler of foresight. Izuku can low key see the future, can tell what’s going to happen based on vibes, and how reacting certain ways might influence that. Nighteye is jealous, his quirk is terrible in comparison.

One for all stockpiles attractiveness. All Might is the number one hero because he’s the most popular and sells the most merch. It just makes Izuku unbelievably handsome. Aoyama is jealous. Izuku becomes an idol, and takes down All for One with the power of friendship.

One for All stockpiles weakness, so it’s actually just a terrible curse that makes someone terminally ill like Yoichi. Yay.

One for All stockpiles stocks. It makes you really business savvy. Izuku may not be a pro hero, but he’s going to make bank.

One for All stockpiles luck.

Haha this is really fun!

Stockpiling intelligence might be arguably dangerous. I'm reminded of Taravangian from the Stormlight Archives, who has fluctuating intelligence and locks himself up when he gets too smart because that's when his ideas go too far.

Pocketramblr has a great OFA stockpiles beauty AU at https://pocketramblr.tumblr.com/tagged/ofa%20stockpiles%20beauty%20au

Luck is perhaps the most useful ability of the bunch. And it explains the usual protagonist knack for being at the center of all events.

[bothendsofthequill]

A Timid Ticklee Finds Their Voice

By Both Ends Of The Quill

"Awwwhahahawwwww, I never knew you had such a precious laugh!"

While you've been visited by your guardian angel before, this night is a first for you both. Bristle has taken it upon himself to comfort you through recent insomnia, a full body spoon ensuring a peaceful slumber, especially with those wings of his. Tonight, however, the rabbit arrived earlier, proposing a way to tire you out before you attempt to doze off...

Bristle tickles up and down your sides as his magic pins your arms next to the pillow. "Is it too much?" He asks as gentle yet firm digits tickle around your ribs.

Joyous laughter pours out of you, and you find yourself blushing as you shake your head.

While trying to move closer and nuzzle your neck as his paw traces your opposing side, his ears get in the way. One of them manages to cover your mouth for a second and you try to blow it back at him in spite of the giggles.

"Oh! Sohohorry." Bristle chuckles, bringing himself upright. "Didn't mean to give you a mouthful of fur. Guess I'll have to make it up to you, huh?" He shows off his claws with a snicker.

You gasp, recoiling and pulling on the restraints slightly.

There's a moment of confusion, but the bunny's eyes widen as the implication hits him, his magic immediately letting you go. "O-oh goodness no, buddy, I would never!" Bringing forth his right paw, he unsheathes his claws. Instead of coming to a point, they end in a dull, orb-like tip, with not a hint of sharpness to speak of. "Being used to these makes me forget s-sometimes that claws are not usually pleasant to the touch. I'm so sorry for scaring you." He retains a worried gaze, ears lowering. "I would never hurt you, you know that, right?"

A smile accompanies your nod as you hug Bristle silently, angling yourself downward to nuzzle into his shoulder.

The bunny reciprocates with a relieved and oddly high-pitched chuckle, rubbing his paws up and down your back. "Do you, uh, want me to give these things a try?"

Giving a tight squeeze, you nod even faster, basking in the softness that is this angelic bunny.

A single "claw" drags down your spine, feeling rounded to the touch. It's even smoother than a fingernail, and damn, is it ever tickly!

An eruption of squeals muffled by fluff is music to Bristle's oversized ears, and one look into your tickler's tender gaze elevates what little anxiety you still hold.

The angel moves to your ribs again, gently stroking his claws up and down all of them with a playful smile. "My favourite piano!"

Silliness like this always makes you laugh harder, and his neck fluff is met with your face once more.

Your oh, so precious nuzzles prompt his fingers to dance in between your ribs. "Can't forget the black keys! Always so under-appreciated..." Neglect for sharp and flat notes in musical composition fuels the contempt dripping from Bristle's voice as he utters the latter sentence, despite the fact that he knows nothing about music.*

Every spot he touches from your ribs to your sides elicits bright laughs, squeaks, and squeals, filling your bedroom with blissful song. Minutes feel like seconds when you're being treated to endless giggles galore, but even more so as Bristle digs into your ribs, making you throw your head back in laughter.

"Coochie cooo!" Bristle teases while falling to the bed with you, taking the opportunity to straddle your hips. No time is wasted encasing you in magic once again, this time securing the whole of your arms and legs. His claws skitter down to your belly where they drag slowly and aimlessly. "Does it feel good?"

You can hardly muster a nod for all the jumping and wiggling you're doing; this whole night is turning into a ticklish daydream. The way your hyper-sensitive tummy is being touched and traced to no end is all encompassing, and the tickling isn't even intense yet! Bristle applies a little more pressure to give louder laughs, but it's the grace of every stroke that's melting you so. The fuzzy tickler laughs with you, squeaking as he finds new soft spots to try and teases that make you blush. Yet somehow, through all the hugs and tickles and teases, he always returns to a simple question when trying a new spot or method: "Does that feel good?" Bristle almost always asks. No matter if you're laughing so hard you have tears in your eyes, or there's nothing more than a snicker to be heard, he makes sure. Moreover, you feel him slow down for a moment as he does so, giving you a chance to nod or shake your head. It's all so subtle, but very deliberate. Maybe that's why you were more open to letting Bristle tickle you and take full responsibility for your body like this: he... cares. He loves you.

"Yehehes, that's it! Just like that!" Bristle exclaims, tail wagging like crazy as he smiles your way

Are you doing something different? You can't tell for sure. All you know is that his paws are speeding up and the claws are beginning to scribble across your tummy. You laugh harder and close your eyes, taking in the sensation, but it's not long before everything slows and Bristle simply rubs your belly, chuckling to himself.

"Need a break, cutie?" His voice is higher than it was before, dripping with giggly mischief.

Panting moderately, you nod.

Bristle grins, pointing his finger at each of your arms and drawing circles in the air as the magic releases you. Meanwhile, his other paw reaches for one of the glasses of water on the adjacent nightstand. "Here you go. Drink it all, laughing dehydrates you more than you think.”

"Mmmhm." you agree, sitting up and chugging the whole glass while recalling how he didn't point at your limbs to restrain them in the first place. This cheeky rabbit did the whole abracadabra thing for style points! You suppress a smirk, placing the glass back down.

Bristle giggles, hesitating for a moment before speaking. "You know you completely let go just then, r-right?"

You cock your head. The hell does that mean?

"I-I saw it, heard it too." Bristle grins wider. "There was a moment where you seemed lost in thought before your laugh got even more effortless." His voice just keeps rising in pitch while he looks away shyly, and the grin turns to an overjoyed smile. "You sounded so happy a-a-and overcome with joy a-and..." he covers his cheeks with his paws, wings flapping and ears almost flopping, "...it was so fucking precious!! Eeeheehee!!" He squeals.

You look down at the bed, biting your lip and shyly giggling along. Are you really that adorable? Goodness...

Bristle takes a deep breath, worried he may be overbearing. "S-sorry, buddy." His right paw rubs the opposing arm. "S-seeing my ticklee's cares melt away is the best p-part of my job and-" He stops. "I... haven't told you about that, have I?" Modestly, he tucks his wings back behind him and clears his throat. "M-my fellow angels and I traverse the worlds looking for people in need of help, in any way, for any reason. You know that, right?"

You nod, propping yourself up with your arms and listening intently as your heart rate slowly returns to normal.

"W-well, not all of us specialize in every issue. Some guardian angels focus more on defense of their protectees from physical danger, and some are better at emotional assistance. Even within the latter, though, some angels aid like a therapist would in this world..." Bristle's ears once again lower bashfully, "...and I'm sure you cahahan guess what I lean towards."

"Mmmhm!" You snicker. Judging by the deep conversations shared between you two during those sleepless nights, he was a lovely therapist, but there was never any question as to where Bristle excelled.

"My peers don't cahall me the angel of tickling for nothing!" The rabbit places his paws on your sides and gives a playful squeeze.

You flop back on your bed with a yip, and before you can even process a single giggle, Bristle's magic is putting your arms right back where they belong.

So these are his true colours, huh? It’s not as if he hasn’t been open to you, but fleeting glimpses are all you’ve seen of this overly playful side until now. In hindsight, it must have been hard to withhold given how strong it obviously is. He may be calling you precious, but watching Bristle's heart glow with a love for tickling is simply too cute.

Your shirt is raised with a single claw to let Bristle fawn over your delicate tummy.

Heck, when he swirls that same claw deep into your belly button and you howl with uncontrollable bellows, he's just as helpless to the squeals as you, struggling to keep still as his tail wags and his wings flap and his voice echos almost as loud as yours, "AhahahahwwwwwEEEE!! I knowwwwww, ihihit tickles so muhuhuch, right? That's my good tickle pet, that's my precious bean!" But yet somehow, he always ends with the same sentiment. “Are you hahahaving fun, cuhuhuhutie?" His finger slows, and as you meet his sparkly gaze, you remember something: you were embarrassed by your love of tickling, ashamed even. Simple nods of assurance have proven difficult throughout all of this. But that ticklish feeling in your belly button is stalling, and Bristle's eyes are begging for an answer, and your heart and mind are screaming the truth at him but your mouth. Just. Won't…

"Yehehehes!! Ihihi lohohove ihihihit!!"

The tickling stops, and you can feel your face glowing bright red. Did you say the wrong thing? Did it come out as intended?

One look at the dumb fucking grin on your guardian angel's face answers that question. "Ahaha! Awwww!!" Bristle's claw swirls even faster inside your belly button, with his other paw squeezing your side frantically. "Ihihi'm so glahahad, sweetie!!"

You jump and laugh hard. So, so hard. In fact, this is the most ticklishly vulnerable you've felt in your entire life. Bristle knows each and every way to make you sing, but every method feels so relentlessly loving and caring, down to the last touch laid upon your delicate skin. Even when he is a little rougher, digging into your ribs and sides with reckless abandon, that’s exactly what it doesn't feel like: reckless. Bristle’s paws sure can be unpredictable and chaotic, but never frightening. Those squishy beans and dulled claws couldn’t hurt a ticklee if they tried, but they can, will, and are filling every note falling from your lips with more emotion than a choir of hundreds could convey.

The bunny full-on straddles you now, nuzzling with cuddly intent and planting a few kisses on your forehead as the tickles carry on. "So soft, so sweet, sooooohohohoho precious!!" He squees. "I'll keep you safe forever, my tickle pet~."

Laughter comes so easily when you lower all defenses: straight from the heart, no filter, no shame. Only euphoria. Tears of joy begin to fall down your cheeks, and that's when you feel Bristle easing off. It's sad to feel your heaven come to an end, but wonderful as it is, euphoria is fucking tiring.

Your magic restraints unravel to make way for the bunny’s embrace. You feel him squeeze, but then loosen the hug and rub your back instead. You appreciate him letting you catch your runaway breath.

"I love you." He murmurs.

You hug back with your final squeak of the night. "I-I... I-I lov-"

Bristle backs up and strokes your cheek. "It's okay, you don't have to-"

You place a finger over his mouth with a shake of your head. "I l-l-love you... -t-too." You reply.

With wide eyes and a quivering lip, your guardian angel opens his arms and wings for a somehow even more encompassing hug, which you practically throw yourself into. Soft spoken and a little choked up, he whispers, "I am so proud of you."

From his softness, both inside and out, to his wings and fur and even having claws that are suited for almost nothing aside from giggle giving, Bristle really is the Angel of Tickling. No. He’s your guardian angel, first and foremost, he would correct you. Protector first, lover second, but not too far behind, truthfully. The two are more intertwined than you could have ever imagined...

[Author's Note]

*Thisisntaventfromtheauthorwhoisalsoamusicianwhatareyoutalkingabout?

[yanderes-galore]

Alphabet thing I'm talking about: https://www.tumblr.com/yanderes-galore/694826177262682112/i-believe-op-reblogged-you-can-use-this-so-should?source=share

Fandom: BioShock

Character: Sander Cohen

Pairing: Platonic.

Type of Fic: prompts from an A-Z list.

(Required for prompts) Prompt numbers and what list they're from: T3 and V3

Sure! I made this by adapting the plot ideas you gave me in private so I hope this did well :) Sorry it's not exactly like the plot you gave me, after the first line I just went with it-

Prompts Here

Yandere! Platonic! Sander Cohen Prompts T-3 and V-3

“Patience is a virtue. We’ll keep going until you learn.”

“If I don’t keep an eye on you, who knows what will happen?”

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Implied stalking, Threats, Violence, Manipulation, Unhealthy power dynamic, Neglect, Starvation.

Your luck was questionable at best. Cohen had always been one for holding events for various things. Usually it was to display his newest work of madness or to look nice for the papers.

Rapture always had questionable forms of entertainment ever since Adam was invented.

Cohen's newest event was to pick someone at random to learn under him. It was a lottery based event to spread his knowledge on the arts. You had only ever been to one Cohen show and left feeling... strange.

It never was your thing once you realized how intense his whole art exhibit was.

Despite this you somehow managed to get a certain letter sent to your residence in Rapture. A fancy invitation declaring you a winner. Confused you end up opening it...

Only to find out you won an event you didn't even know you were partaking in.

The moment you read the word 'Cohen' you felt your blood chill. You originally thought you could ignore the invitation to this, ask for another winner. Although you quickly began to fear what the man himself may do if you already didn't comply.

With your fate manipulated out of your hands, you accepted the offer with a fearful grin.

Working under Cohen never managed to ease your fear. As his newest muse and newest songbird to work under him, you felt under pressure. Cohen is a perfectionist.

Even though Cohen hasn't harmed you yet during your... internship (?), you fear the idea of it. He is one who finds pain the purest form of beauty and is rather apathetic towards suffering. You've heard the stories.

Like some sort of predator, it was like Cohen could smell your fear.

Cohen was not blind to your shaking and stuttered responses. Ever since he laid eyes on you he thought he could make you something greater. Even when you didn't know of his presence yet.

The first step to perfecting you was to stop all the nerves. How could you ever make art alongside him if you shutter around him? Your nerves make your art suffer.

He takes note of how you struggle to find your own muse under him. Your music is a bit too off-key and your art is too rushed and bland. A good mentor must encourage their student, no?

“Patience is a virtue. We’ll keep going until you learn.”

It sounds like encouragement to those who don't know Cohen. However, you've been around the madman enough to catch the vaguely threatening tone he gave it. He's willing to be as patient as he can with you, but you aren't going to stop making art until he's pleased.

Cohen is the type of man to make you work until you're tired and hungry. He's harsh, claiming to you that your suffering will make your art shine. All you can focus on is the fear, the fatigue, and the hunger that permeates through your gut.

The concoction of feeling makes you nauseated with stress around Cohen. In an attempt to appease him you practice your skills. You try instruments, you try different art forms, you begin to wonder how you even got into this mess.

It's when you push yourself to the point of being irritable and passing out that Cohen relents slightly. You're given enough food and water to survive yet you still struggle and he looks at your art with slight intrigue. There's improvements, he smiles.

"There! The struggling pain you feel is what you need your art to embody! You're getting the hang of it...."

He treats your pain as something that must happen to make something pleasing to his eyes. He wants you to bleed for your art, he wants to feel your emotion in it. To him, this means you get it.

He just needs to push you more.

Harshly, with frenzied arguments and threats, he molds you into what he wants you to be. Your art improves even with your struggling form. Despite your condition, Cohen both encourages you yet disciplines you.

In a way you are his newest piece of work.

He both treats your suffering as good for art yet acts like he has just enough care for your well being. When you aren't suffering due to your needs not being met, you're threatened with being shocked or covered in plaster. Cohen is hard to predict... being here is a struggle to survive.

Cohen hurts you, yet then he whirls around like he cares. He tells you all artists must struggle. You're lucky he's here to help you, he claims while you shake in his grasp.

“If I don’t keep an eye on you, who knows what will happen?”

Cohen says with a threatening grin, like you aren't suffering by his hands. He's just here to keep you alive while he molds you into his perfect work. In truth... you winning his little lottery event wasn't by chance.

He picked you. Your fate was decided by him because he saw you just once. Ever since, he's decided to make you a wonderful artist just like him.

From the start, Cohen decided you and him would be wonderful. You'll both make great things together.

Meanwhile, you just hope you can get by and survive... regardless of how you got into this.

[lavenoon]

Okokok hi!

How would the boys (Eclipse included) feel about s/o 'borrowing' a a piece of clothing (like a shirt) or accessories to wear and/or making an effort to match his outfits?

Alright lets go! I'll default to "shirt" in the scenarios but the sentiment applies to basically everything lmao

Sun: Stealing his shirt to wear it out in public: For the sake of whatever is getting you out in public, lets assume he doesn't see it until you already are out and about, because otherwise, y'all would be late. He'll still fuss a little, just for show - what else is going to give him the excuse to lean down and purr a low little "darling, you could have just asked" if not the fact that your collar absolutely needs to be fixed right now? Frankly, wearing his shirt is an ego boost he doesn't need - or absolutely does. Superficially, he'll be the worst peacock about it, because there you are - wearing his shirt in his colors while out with him, immediately showing everyone you meet that you're with him. But deep down, Sun is anxiety galore, and he lives for the reassurance that you chose this, that you like where your relationship is going, and that this is what you want. He'll love to indulge, not to worry <3

Which is to say. If you so much as breathe that you wanted to match him? Good fucking luck. This man is going to be barely contained glee at the prospect of getting to coordinate outfits with you - what kind of power couple you'd be! And to think that you might even want to add to your wardrobe just to have something that would match something of his? Goodbye, he's ascended, and then returned with a vengeance because he has to treat you now, as much as he can - do you want a whole matching dress/ suit? would you want just one article to match - perhaps a jacket, or shirt, or a scarf the color of his tie? Or the more subtle claim - cuff links and collar pins and necklaces, he's all for it, and you'll have one hell of a time trying to get him to be calm about it. Have fun!

Moon: Stealing his shirt to wear it out in public: Whelp, there goes Moon! Gets about halfway through a tease before the reality of the situation hits him and he just crumbles into a flustered mess. He'd love to be smug and tease you about raiding his closet for a shirt - he usually opts for basic t-shirts in solid colors, so it's not even that special. But it's his and you chose it specifically, and now you're wearing it and once you're done wearing it it'll end up in his closet again and then he'll wear the shirt you wore and - best to not continue, he's already about to combust. Already prefers not being the one handling public stuff, so he'll let you take the lead and just turns into your backpack on legs to occasionally hide his face under the pretense of giving you a nice little head nuzzle, and some very quiet mumbles of "the color suits you, you should wear it more often" <3

Now, if you went and told him you'd want to match him, specifically? Man's just bluescreening for a second there, whoops. A fumbling mess and definitely the most low key about matching among these three, because he gets flustered to hell and back at the thought of attracting that kinda attention. He loves the sentiment, don't get him wrong! But if you keep it to at home/ the neighborhood, his processors will thank you for not overheating. However, once you express that said sentiment? He'll start just putting his nightcap on you, with more or less vague excuses or deflecting compliments of "you look cute" depending on his daily shyness level. And sorry, did the temperature just dip? No? Too bad, he's already stripping out of his jacket (while stealing a glance if you're looking) and draping it around you, because "you looked cold" - cuddle him some more, because he's currently heating up from fluster, and it'll be win win!

Eclipse: Stealing his shirt to wear it out in public: Oh my god, you've killed him to death. His casual clothes are often very baggy, and he already has to buy larger stuff to cover his entire torso. Honestly, his reaction is twofold - on the one hand, he's just melting and cooing over you, just so absolutely in love and just an excited mess that you'd want to wear his clothes. On the other hand, he's very interested in what you do with the extra sleeves. For a long sleeved shirt, they'd probably tie around nicely like a waist belt? For that extra ~pizzazz~ - or tuck them into a high-waisted skirt or pants (skirts you can also steal from his closet. I wouldn't recommend the pants). As always, very touchy about it, looking with his eyes isn't enough! Propriety be damned, you better be somewhere where cuddling is possible because that's what he wants to do, and now <3

And if you as much as insinuate that the purpose was to match him? This guy is the king of cheese and proud, and he'll wear all the embarrassing couple's stuff with you - he'll love couple's shirts (both just, normal shirts but you each get one of the same, or the "if lost return to [x]" "I'm [x]" type of stuff), he'll love matching accessories (of which he already has many, and is happy to share - all except his sun and moon eclipse necklace), key chains, anything! He loves the idea of matching, and a non-negligible part of him basks in that validation that you want to be seen with him, associated with him, and want to broadcast that to people even more than just going out with him! You aren't ashamed to love him so openly, and as someone who might get a bit self conscious if he's the only one being openly affectionate and cheesy, it's balm to his soul and he'll love to go all out!

[qqueenofhades]

…mind dropping a hint about the new fic??!

Aha. I am trying not to say TOO much because I am attempting to avoid enabling myself when I don't really have time to work consistently on ONE fic, much less several. (As I said: yes, I know. This has never stopped me before.) Plus, this is a project where the mystery is a key part of figuring out what's going on. But, because I am excited and want to share a few tidbits to hopefully also excite you, here are some details:

The title is 'the unknown and static strange'

It's an AU or is it?

There is a complicated relationship to canon, let's put it that way.

Professor Hob Gadling is an art historian and museum curator with a mysterious past.

Possibly mysterious even to him.

There is a lot of academic nerdery and also an international scavenger hunt.

Also a murder mystery, but not in the usual way.

Who is the King of Dreams figure in these illuminated manuscripts and why does Hob keep finding them?

There are Tropes. Not saying which Tropes, but oh boy, Tropes.

Also, A Twist.

Academic mysteries and intrigue galore.

Does this sound like My Jam, you say? Why, yes. It does.

Stay tuned.

I plan to finish OMM first but yes, I wrote 2k words of chapter 1 yesterday and Thinky Thoughts Were Thunk.

[lotusquil]

An acknowledgement of my writing style.

One part planning, one part omfg this scene is so good let me write it down and fit it somewhere.

AKA why I identify as a Planster when NaNoWriMo comes around.

PRO

I make progress

Every bit counts, establishing the key pieces I want to appear in a chapter. Foreshadowing and all.

I have a plan, usually. Outlines galore.

These scenes are A+ and ready to be seen.

CON

Who wrote this?

Change the outline again, this doesn't make sense anymore

This scene doesn't fit??? It breaks the lore?? The lore I wrote?

Do I rewrite the scene to fit?? I DONT WANNA SCRAAAAAP

How do I segue in to this?? What was i thinking?

[thecosmeticworld-1]

"Glamour Galore: A Deep Dive into the World of Cosmetics"

The world of cosmetics is a fascinating blend of art and science, where colors, textures, and formulations come together to enhance and celebrate the diverse beauty found in each individual. From skincare basics to makeup masterpieces, the cosmetics industry plays a vital role in empowering people to express themselves and boost their confidence. In this comprehensive exploration, we'll delve into the multifaceted world of cosmetics and reveal the secrets behind the products gracing our beauty shelves.

Cosmetics development

Cosmetics have a rich history dating back to ancient civilizations. From the ancient Egyptians' use of kohl for eye makeup to the elaborate beauty rituals of geishas in Japan, cosmetics have always had cultural significance. Fast forward to today, the cosmetics industry has witnessed a remarkable evolution, driven by technological advancements, changing beauty standards, and an increasing focus on health.

Skin care: the foundation of beauty

The journey into the world of cosmetics usually begins with skincare. Healthy, radiant skin is the canvas on which makeup artists create their masterpieces. The blog will explore the importance of a solid skincare routine and look at key ingredients, such as antioxidants, hyaluronic acid, and retinol, that have revolutionized the way we care for our skin. Plus, we'll reveal the secrets to serums, moisturizers, and the growing trend of clean, sustainable beauty.

The science behind the formulas

Cosmetic formulations are an exact science and require a complex balance of ingredients to achieve the desired effects. Readers will learn about the chemistry behind their favorite products and understand how emulsions, suspensions, and preservatives work together in harmony. We will demystify common skincare and makeup ingredients, debunk myths, and empower consumers to make informed decisions based on their skin type and preferences.

The art of makeup: beyond the depths of the skin

Makeup is an art form that allows people to express themselves creatively and try different looks. From the classic red lip to the glamorous world of eyeshadow, this section of the blog will delve into the transformative power of makeup. We'll discuss the role of makeup in self-expression, the impact of social media on beauty trends, and the rise of inclusive beauty brands that cater to diverse skin tones and identities.

The rise of clean and sustainable beauty

In recent years, there has been a notable shift towards clean, sustainable beauty. Consumers are increasingly aware of the environmental impact of their beauty products. This section will explore the environmentally friendly practices adopted by cosmetics brands, including cruelty-free testing, recyclable packaging, and the use of ethically sourced natural ingredients. We will also discuss the challenges and opportunities in creating products that prioritize beauty and sustainability.

Beauty technology: innovations shaping the future

The intersection of beauty and technology is producing groundbreaking innovations that are reshaping the cosmetics landscape. From augmented reality beauty apps to personalized skincare solutions, this blog will explore how technology is improving the consumer experience and revolutionizing product development. Readers will discover the latest trends in beauty technology and get a glimpse into the future of personal beauty.

Navigating the beauty aisle: a consumer guide

The wide range of cosmetics available on the market can be overwhelming for consumers. In this section, we'll provide practical tips on how to navigate the beauty aisle, understand product labels, and make informed decisions based on individual preferences and skin concerns. From deciphering ingredient lists to finding the right shades for different skin tones, readers will gain valuable information to improve their beauty routine.

Conclusion

The world of cosmetics is a dynamic tapestry woven with threads of creativity, science, and cultural influences. By concluding this exploration, readers will have gained a deeper appreciation for the artistry and innovation that define the cosmetics industry. Whether enhancing natural beauty or experimenting with daring looks, cosmetics remain a source

[finalgirlagatha]

oh yes btw! i did orphan my old ao3 account, but not to worry, my works are still published. all of them are attached below in the form of a masterpost :)

the oldies and not goldies

i have been talked down from deleting these for four goddamn years. 'they're funny' well not to me. bon appetit, the group chat fics. the og squad sends outdated memes and death threats. they are out of realm of control now.

heathens galore: the myth, the legend. my first sge fic. its funny or smth idk. modern texting au

chat for boolies and short kings: it's definitely... there.

transitioning phase

the summer seemed to last forever: significantly less cringe than the aforementioned, but also unfinished. it's a fun fic, with the Boys being dumb and tedros pining. 80s au.

am i still dreaming?: angst, callis and agatha with a mitski title. nuff said.

pale october twlight: this was written for 2020 sgetober. there are some goodies in there, and theres a lot, so some of it has to appeal to someone! various aus, ships, concepts and characters.

before the winds of mistrust: nicphie oneshot, angsty. i'm so proud of this one, listen. "Cool, unflappable Nicola who never lets anyone or anything under her skin and who’s been under Sophie’s since the day they exchanged words." god i miss them. this was the stepping off pad for my oneshots, aka

the only bitches in this place i respect

aka the rare ships. these, despite being of varying quality, they usually have comprehensive character studies and some funny bits. you're bound to like something here.

glowing dim as an ember: such a cool au. agaster forbidden romance, dancing, childhood friends.

witchy chicken soup for the soul: a gamechanger. this au (modern magic) is a blast and i still love reading this one. beatrix is really fun to write for, and this was the best way to discover their dynamic. anadil/beatrix changed lives guys i'm so serious. i haven't been the same.

the spirit of exploration: chaddick/ravan, set during AWWP. have you noticed that these are all ever/never. well now you have. as i said in my notes "it is quite possible the everboys had 'college girl phases' during awwp and thats the basis of the whole fic". yeah.

white heart (made it red): THE FIRST ANADIL/AGATHA FIC, written for meg <3 an au, anadil character study, and anadil and agatha exploration. these two are actually so very very interesting and writing them was very fun. give me that anadil character baby

chivalry is on fire: post tlea, chaddick ravan beatrix and reena focused. gives the students a bit more depth, they play pranks and reminsce and make promises. good stuff, i love all four of them.

good stuff.

just good stuff. some of the last things i wrote before the movie came out.

an acknowledgment of the pain: tagatha, set during tlea. a reconciliation between tedros and guinevere through the lenses of a biracial tedros. it means a lot to me and helps their dynamic out a bit.

the truth is stranger than my own worst dreams: a princess mononoke au. unfinished,but still a worthwhile read imo. i DO plan on finishing it someday, promise 😔

Rhodonite and Obsidian: I legitimately still think to this day this is one of the best things I've ever written. keian multi-chapter fic, in which I dive into Kei, his family, his relationship with Rhian, and his fate. you guys miss kate pumpkinpaperweight has this bookmarked. If that's not an assurance of quality, i don't know what is.