#candle boxes for shipping

[bestcustomluxuryboxes]

Customer Journey Through Luxury Apparel Boxes

We all know that the beauty of apparel items is enhanced by the integration of luxury apparel packaging. This packaging is specifically built to accommodate different kinds of apparel products quite efficiently. Custom rigid boxes are instrumental in enriching this journey, forging an enduring impression that transcends the splendid attire they encase. These boxes are tailored in different shapes and sizes with which they become a perfect option to cover different apparel items. Adding a touch of different fishing options, the beauty of these boxes is further enhanced. Let’s now probe into the customer journey via luxury custom apparel boxes, examining the influence of custom rigid boxes and their contribution to improving the shopping experience.

Access to wholesale luxury boxes packaging is essential for luxury clothing brands in the United States. Manufacturers of rigid boxes that serve the American market are vital in providing brands with affordable, high-quality packaging solutions. The collaboration between brands and these manufacturers is indispensable for uniformity in design and quality across various products.

The sale of a product is influenced by its packaging, as it serves as a reflection of the product's value. An appealing and high-quality packaging not only captures the attention of customers but also establishes a powerful initial impression. There are many packaging solution s available but luxury rigid boxes are second to none. They are commonly used to pack high end products like cell phones, jewelry items, cosmetics and gifts. The reason why all the top industries rely on these custom rigid boxes is that they are the most secure option to keep these products. Additionally, they are not only durable but also offer an exceptional presentation to your products. If you want to make your brand stand out and get massive sales then choose these luxury boxes.

Flexibility in Design and Style

The most incredible benefit you can gain from these boxes is that they are versatile and can be customized into different shapes and sizes. All you need to do is provide your rigid boxes manufacturers with the right specifications for the product and get the perfect design that aligns with your product. Moreover, you can choose from plenty of options: sleeve boxes, drawer style, book style and even die-cut window boxes. All of these designs are equally popular because of their uniqueness and presentation quality to show the product's extraordinary.

Elevate Your Brand Presence with Custom Shoe Boxes

In the business world, first impression matters a lot. Customers make an evaluation about the quality of a product and the personality of the brand through packaging. Now it’s time to give equal importance to the packaging just as the product itself. You cannot compete with the competitors if you just focus on the quality of product and ignore its presentation. If you own a shoe brand and want to boost your sales then opt for custom shoes boxes. What makes these boxes special than other is that they are customizable which means that their shape, design and style is in your hands. You can design them your way. You know your audience better so you can add aesthetic designs and premium finishes to these customized shoe boxes that urge them to buy your shoes.

Are you in search of unique packaging ideas to elevate the gifting experience for your customers? Worry no more, as luxury gift boxes offer a customizable solution with an array of shapes, styles, and designs that are sure to captivate your recipients and create a lasting impression for your brand. These exquisite boxes not only provide protection for your upscale and delicate gifts but also feature state-of-the-art designs, ensuring an unparalleled presentation.

2. Durability and Protection

Luxury gift boxes are made with cardboard material which is highly durable and ensure safe transit of your products from shelves to customer’s doorstep. They are the safe place for your expensive items. They keep them safe from moisture, heat and external shock. Durability of custom gift boxes enhances customers experience and leave a lasting impression on them.

Lavish Customization

Luxury boxes are the ideal packaging solution for your gifts because they are not limited to a few products. They are highly customizable which means that you can alter their shape, design and style according to your preferences. In other words, you get complete control over designing the boxes. You can choose the material, finishes and style of the box. You can also add your brand logo and other branding elements to make the boxes personalized.

Why Luxury Shoe Boxes are Important for Brands in 2024

Due to the emergence of online apparel brands, the shoe market is witnessing its peak. The demand of footwear has increased because people find it easier to shop by sitting at home. Therefore, the demand of packaging has also increased because it is not just a way to protect the shoes but also to advertise the brand. It is the custom shoes boxesthat come in contact with first prior to the product itself. They are fore behind building the first impression. If you opt for premium packaging solutions for your footwear collection, they will leave a lasting impression on them. They are the ideal way to present your best sellers.

Custom Luxury Boxes for Footwear offer Memorable Unboxing Experience

When it comes to customer retention, unboxing experience is one of the most important elements because it stays with the customers for a long time. It is a source of connecting the customers with your brand. Whenever they discuss their shopping experience, they recall their experience with your brand. You can opt for unique and creative styles of shoe boxes like magnetic closure, tuck end style or handle boxes with custom inserts that mesmerize the customers. You can also add themes and graphics related to a particular event like Christmas to turn these custom luxury bxoesinto gift boxes.This will result in customer satisfaction which leads to their long-term retention.

[customluxuryboxes123]

Elevate Your Brand Presence with Luxury Boxes

Luxury products are always expensive and they hold a special place on the shelves for both the buyer and the seller. Loss and damage of such a pricey product can be a major concern for b oth. Being a brand, you have to take all the measurements to maintain your brand impression in the market, and for that, it is important to use luxury box packaging that not only protects the products but also improves your value in the market. 

We are the top custom box manufacturers serving various industries with luxury candle boxes, luxury boxes for cosmetics, and many more across the US and helping them to promote and deliver their products in luxury box packaging that suits the shape and size of their top-selling items. They are specially designed to meet the expectations of the consumers so that they feel they are getting their money's worth. 

Benefits of Luxury Box Packaging 

Improve Visual Appeal

We know the importance of visual appeal and its impact on customers' psychology therefore we have a well-skilled team that follows your given specifications and designs the packaging accordingly.

At Custom Luxury Boxes you will get exquisite designs and styles of boxes that reflect the actual worth of your product because the customers often have a few seconds where they see the packaging and make a perception about the item wrapped inside. 

We believe that when something is of great worth with its appearance and features, it has to look that way. Here comes our luxury boxes that are well crafted with the latest technology that reflects the actual essence of your products.

For instance, if you own a candle brand, and want to impress your customers instantly, all you need to do is get luxury candle packaging boxes with aesthetic designs that the customers have never experienced before.

Use Luxury Candle Packaging for Cost Effective Brand Endorsement

Better promotion is the soul of any brand because it is the only way to reach a wide audience and increase your customer base. Brand promotion is something that leads you to your dream success. If you are looking for a cost-effective way of promoting your brand then there is no better option than buying candle box wholesale from Custom Luxury Boxes US. We also offer packaging boxes for candles in bulk which help you save your cost. With a brand logo on the boxes, you can let the audience recognize you in the market. Moreover, customers share their unboxing experience on social media where they take the shorts of packaging boxes from different angles that elevate your brand value. 

Wide Range of Printing Techniques for Luxury Cosmetic Packaging Boxes

Numerous brands are offering similar cosmetic products, but there is only one thing that distinguishes them from others the packaging. There are a lot of elements including the texture, feel, and quality of the packaging that can be different. Additionally, the packaging contains essential information regarding the brand including its name, log, tagline, and graphics that make it stand out.   

All of that requires extraordinary printing techniques to get the best out of a box. Custom Luxury Boxes use the following printing technique to serve you with the best.

Digital Printing

Offset Printing

Embossing

Foil Stamping

Debossing

Offset printing 

Lithographic Printing

We are well aware of the latest trends that elevate your luxury cosmetic packaging boxes. Our experienced team assists you with breathtaking customization with a stunning font style that becomes a sign of identity for your brand

Diverse Range of Fishing for Cosmetic Packaging Box 

Decent packaging is incomplete without proper finishing because it gives your luxury cosmetic boxes for packaging a professional look and enhances the unboxing experience. Custom Luxury Boxes offer the following finishing techniques that transform your packaging into extraordinary.  

UV spot

Varnishing

Gloss Lamination

Matte Lamination 

These captivating techniques increase the chances that the customers will prefer your products. They play a key role in influencing customers' buying decisions.

Greater Perceived Value

Luxury packaging is associated with expensive and pricy products like jewelry, cell phones, etc. Luxury packaging is the synonym of high quality therefore we offer premium packaging that can make the customers believe that whatever is packaged inside is also high quality. In this way, you get a greater perceived value of your products. Consequently, it increases your sales because stats show that if the same products are packaged in different packaging boxes, one is a dull and ordinary box and the other is luxurious and expensive, the customers will choose the luxury box. 

Better Customer Retention

The success of a business lies in customer retention; it is the sign that you offer the best quality products that always attract customers back. The existing customers share their experience which works as a word-of-mouth promotion of your brand. Custom Luxury Boxes provide you with luxury packaging that boosts customers' experience and fosters a deeper emotional connection between the brand and the customers. When customers know that you show your commitment, values, and responsibility through luxury custom boxes, they stay with your brand. 

Unrivaled Customer Service 

Being the top custom box manufacturer, CLB has millions of customers across the US and worldwide and we are offering a diverse range of sustainable packaging for multiple products. It is up to you, what sort of packaging design you need.  

We will design the box in a way that makes your product eye-catching on the shelves and will serve as a branding message that will invite maximum customers to your store. 

We are available 24/7 to serve you and prepare your orders quickly. You can contact our call representative anytime and inform your queries. Moreover, you can visit our website for more details and discount offers. If you are unable to find the suitable material, design, and style of the box that resonates with your products, feel free to discuss it with our expert designers, they will guide you. 

[haveyouseenthisflower]

II fandom opinion:D

[c10v3r]

Tea Kettle marrying candle for pride month

(Sapphic marriage)

a sapphic win organised by the other members of the sinkers

[angeltism]

dabi for the ask game?

looks: somewhat attractive | eh | not really my type | pretty | handsome | beautiful | stud | gorgeous | SWEET LORD MERCY

can you relate to this character on a personal level?: no | not really | somewhat | yes | they are me

would you date/be friends with this character in real life if they were real?: total bros | friends | best friends | date | become their steady boyfriend/ girlfriend | neither | i don’t kno

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗙𝗔𝗞𝗘 𝗦𝗠𝗜𝗟𝗘

　　　　　　　　𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Chris records a TikTok with Tara after many requests from both fandoms, but fans reacted contrary to what he expected, generating questioning thoughts in Y/N.

WARNING: Crying, comparison, fighting.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The morning sun beamed beyond the half-open curtains in the living room, painting the room with orange and gold tones. Sitting at the kitchen table, Y/N immersed herself in her books, trying to focus on her notes as the sounds of Nick and Matt echoed around the house.

At that moment, Chris was absent. He had gone to Tara's house, a new friend of the triplets and, consequently, of Y/N, who had recently become a frequent figure in their lives. The objective was to record a video for Tara's channel since after the large group's social media post together, both fandoms started begging for collabs.

As Y/N immersed herself in her studies, a notification flashed on her phone screen. The girl looked up at her device, seeing the new message.

pretty boy: hi baby!! look, we did a tiktok! I look so cool: link.

A smile curved Y/N's lips as she clicked on the link, curious to see the result of one of Chris and Tara's creations. The video started, and she immediately recognized the song as one of her favorites, humming softly as her eyes captured the funny dance and interaction between the two.

A laugh escaped her lips when she saw Chris shaking his head in the lyrics "Would you get down on knees for me?", remembering all the times the song played when they were together, and exactly in this part, Chris always got down on his knees in front of Y/N, making her laugh.

For a moment, Y/N allowed herself to relax and enjoy the scene. It was a genuine demonstration of their new friendship, and Y/N felt grateful to be part of that dynamic.

However, her joy was momentary.

As the video came to an end, Y/N scrolled through the comments, eager to see the reaction of Tara's followers. What she found left her cold.

Among the funny and complimentary comments, there was a barrage of messages that cut like sharp knives. Ardent fans of both Tara and Chris were heavily shipping them, completely ignoring Chris's long-standing and public relationship with Y/N.

"Chris and Tara are so cute together!"

"I so wanted them to be a couple 😭"

"I'm sorry, Y/N, but you don't hold a candle to Tara. Chris deserves someone like her."

The words echoed in Y/N's mind, like a distant echo of an approaching storm. She felt a tightness in her chest, a mixture of sadness, anger, and confusion.

How could they be so cruel? How could they judge their relationship based on fragments of a distorted reality? Y/N felt vulnerable, exposed to the relentless cruelty of the virtual world.

Her thumb moved automatically as she left the comment box, sliding the screen to the TikTok below the one she was watching, craving a quick distraction. But her hope was suddenly dashed when she saw that the next video was an edit of Chris and Tara's TikTok and all the others after.

She knew the fans were fast, but at that moment, she wanted them to be as slow as possible.

Y/N closed the app with a heavy sigh, fighting to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. It was difficult not to let the strangers' words and opinions get to her.

With a determined effort to forget about it momentarily, Y/N turned her attention back to the books, seeking refuge in the comforting familiarity of the printed pages, forgetting to answer Chris.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The day was coming to an end. In the room shared by Y/N and Chris, the atmosphere was filled with a silent energy, interrupted only by the gentle slide of Y/N's fingers over her phone screen, and the low sounds of various videos.

She was lying in their bed, having already taken a comforting shower, but her mind was still shrouded in a haze of dark thoughts. As she scrolled through her TikTok's For You, romantic edits of Chris and Tara popped up with disturbing frequency. Y/N's expression was a mixture of sadness and self-questioning, her eyes reflecting an inner storm.

She felt her mind defeat her with thoughts of comparison. She knew she would never reach Tara's beauty, humor, and even body.

The heavy atmosphere was interrupted by the sound of the door opening gently. Chris entered the room, radiating an aura of euphoria. His eyes sparkled with joy, and a smile spread across his face with ease.

"Hi, my pretty girl!" Chris greeted, closing the door behind him. "You won't believe how amazing the video with Tara turned out. I can't wait for her to post it so you can see it!"

"Hey, baby! I'm so happy you had fun." Y/N looked up from her cell, forcing a smile on her lips, trying with all her might not to reveal her current state - the last thing she wanted to do was ruin Chris's excitement, but the sadness still hovered in her eyes.

Chris immediately noticed the change in her expression and approached the bed, worried.

"What happened, babe?" He asked in a worried tone, frowning and sitting down next to her.

She just shook her head slightly, unable to put her tumultuous thoughts into words. Chris reached out to caress her face gently, seeking to comfort her with his loving touch.

"You didn't answer my text, I really thought something was happening... You know you can tell me anything, right?" Chris continued gently. He didn't want to force anything out of her.

Y/N nodded, feeling a lump form in her throat. Before he could say anything else, Chris noticed the phone in her hand with almost silent sounds escaping from the speaker, leaning over to peer at the screen.

Romantic edits of Chris and Tara filled Y/N's device. He swallowed hard, instantly connecting the dots.

Chris's comforting touch on Y/N's face seemed to turn cool. His eyes narrowed slightly, and a sigh escaped his lips before he could control it.

"Y/N, are you really upset because of these silly edits?" The boy questioned, his voice filled with disbelief. His touch against the warm skin disappeared within seconds, the boy removing his hand from her face before sitting down on the bed.

Y/N flinched at the accusation implicit in his words, feeling suddenly exposed and vulnerable. Tears threatened to overflow her eyes as she struggled to find a coherent response.

"It's not just because of the edits..." She, her voice shaking with turbulent emotions. "Did you see the comments? They-"

Chris shook his head impatiently, cutting her off abruptly, frustration beginning to seep into his expression. He couldn't understand why something as trivial as fan edits could affect his girlfriend so much.

"Y/N, this is ridiculous!" He continued firmly. "These edits and comments don't mean anything. They're just fan jokes. It's not the end of the world." His voice came out louder than before, his posture now rigid.

His words hit Y/N like a sharp knife, making her feel even more inadequate and misunderstood. Anger bubbled inside her, a simmering mix of resentment and hurt.

"You don't understand, Chris!" She snapped, her voice shaking slightly. Her right hand worked to lock the screen of her phone in one quick motion, tossing it aside. "This isn't just about the edits. It's about how I feel about being compared to Tara, about how it's making me feel inferior to her! How would you feel if people started wanting to see me with a man other than you? While I'm in a relationship with you!"

Chris rolled his eyes dismissively, his patience beginning to wear thin at the intensity of Y/N's emotions.

“You’re so tiring sometimes, Y/N.” He snapped without thinking, his voice tinged with irritation, not giving a damn about how his girlfriend felt. "I can't deal with all this insecurity all the time. It's fucking exhausting."

The words hit Y/N like a punch to the gut, leaving her breathless, her rigid posture quickly crumbling. She felt tears run down her face without force as the painful realization settled in her heart.

She was tiring. She was insecure. She was too much for him to handle.

The pain of rejection burned in her chest as she retrieved her phone again, ripping the comforter off her legs. Her lips were pressed into a thin line tightly in an attempt to stop the ugly sobs that she wanted to let out. She wouldn't give herself the luxury of showing Chris how much he hurt her.

The girl got up from the bed in one quick movement, grabbing her pillow and heading towards the bedroom door.

"Where are you going?" Chris's voice echoed harshly behind her, his body rising from the mattress quickly.

"I'll sleep in the living room." Y/N responded curtly, turning the handle with ease before walking through the door, slamming it, feeling more alone than ever amidst the multitude of turbulent emotions.

She could feel her heart being crushed a little more when she didn't hear Chris call for her again, let alone try to reach her.

The stairs leading to the living room were silent, and her pillow clutched to her chest as a last vestige of comfort in a world that seemed to be falling apart around her. Each step up echoed like a lonely echo in an emotional void that seemed to swallow her whole.

Upon reaching the living room, Y/N found refuge on the empty couch. She curled into the soft upholstery, hugging the pillow tightly as tears continued to roll down her cheeks silently. The phone rested next to her, emitting a dim light that wouldn't turn off, almost begging her to pick it up again.

Hours dragged by like centuries as Y/N fought the ghosts of her own mind.

At some point, she had given up resisting and was on her TikTok again. The algorithm seemed to hate her, delivering her frequent videos of Chris and Tara, which were like a sharp dagger in her heart.

They would really look beautiful together.

Dawn fell heavily upon her, but sleep refused to welcome her into its comforting arms. Instead, she found herself trapped in a whirlwind of torturous thoughts, her mind pounding incessantly with doubts and questions about her relationship with Chris.

Until her brain shuts down completely, letting tiredness win.

At 3 a.m., in the darkness of the night, a familiar figure appeared at the entrance to the room. Chris was there, his tired face etched with worry and regret.

His eyes quickly found Y/N's figure lying on the couch, already asleep, curled up and shivering slightly from the cold. Her eyes were closed, but he could see the swelling that surrounded them, the traces of tears on her cheeks and her still damp face. Next to her, her phone repeatedly played one of the videos she had watched before falling asleep.

A lump formed in Chris's throat. He intensely blamed himself for not having thought before acting and, much less, noticing how much his actions had affected his girlfriend.

With hesitant steps, he approached her, feeling the weight of his own anguish on his shoulders.

Gently, Chris turned off her phone, cutting the endless cycle of pain that had consumed Y/N. He then crouched down beside her, studying her peaceful face with a mixture of love and pain.

With a resigned sigh, the boy carefully took her into his arms, hooking them around her back and behind her knees, feeling the weight of her fragile body against his own chest. Y/N hummed softly in response to his touch but didn't fully wake up.

Chris carried her down the stairs and back to their bedroom, where the soft light from the lamp bathed the room in yellow tones. Tenderly, he placed her on the soft mattress, covering her with the comforter carefully so as not to wake her.

Y/N shifted slightly under Chris's touch and the new surface beneath her limbs, her eyebrows furrowing in an expression of discomfort. She looked restless, as if she were immersed in a nightmare.

Chris watched her for a moment, feeling the weight of his own harsh words weigh on him like an anchor. He knew he had hurt Y/N deeply, and the pain of seeing her suffer was almost unbearable.

With a heavy sigh, he sat down next to her, his hand reaching for her with a tentative touch. Y/N stirred slightly, her eyes finally slowly opening to meet Chris's. She fought the urge to get up and leave the room again, her anger at Chris's actions and sadness in her mind, making her want to avoid him.

For a moment, they simply stared at each other, sharing a silent understanding that transcended words, Y/N making the decision to let him say what he wanted.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry.” Chris muttered, his voice thick with regret. "I was insensitive and selfish. I didn't want to hurt you, I acted on impulse and completely without thinking. This whole situation is not silly if it hurts and bothers you, and I promise that we can talk better about what you saw and how you felt, and solve this together... Just please, give me this chance?"

Y/N blinked slowly, her eyes locked on Chris's as she processed his words. For a moment, she felt the weight of hurt and disappointment pressing against her, but then she saw the sincerity in Chris's eyes, the pure, unconditional love he had always offered her.

And in that moment, she knew that forgiveness was the only good choice to make. With a sigh, she squeezed Chris's hand tenderly, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders.

"Just one chance. I want you to fix what you did and do it right this time."

taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @sturniolowhore @mimi-luvzyu @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @hearts4chriss @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @rootbeerworshiper @junnniiieee07 @elliesturniolo1 @sstvrnioloo @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @ksskianshd @soimightlikeoldmen69 @ldr-sl0t @breeloveschris @its-jennarose @sainzzsturns @ecliphttlunar @thebottledwatersupplier @soso-scarlettolivia @sturnolio-luvs @bitchydragonparadise @lvrsturn @freshsturns @h3arts4harry @patscorner @m0r94n @blahbel668 @strnilolo

(If you want to be added to the taglist, go to this post)

[hotdrinks]

[ID: The Magnus Archives fanart of Jon and Martin kissing in Jon's office. Jon sits at his desk, his fist is balled in Martin's shirt, and he is pulling him down for the kiss. There is a spilled mug of tea, and several papers fluttering to the ground by Martin's hand. There is a painting of Jonah Magnus on the wall behind Jon and Martin. He looks at the viewer with wide eyes. The office is cramped and messy, there are boxes and stacks of paper on the floor and shelves. There are small references to each of the 14 fears in the background. They are as follows: a coffin drawn on the chalkboard, a skull on the shelf on the left wall, a copy of The Bone Turner's Tale, a jar of ashes, and a spider on the shelf behind Jon, fog in the hopper windows near the ceiling, candles, a pair of antlers, a knife, and a clown doll on the shelf behind Martin, a surrealist painting of a door on a flat landscape, a tall painting of a ship on a stormy sea -both on the right wall-, and a cracked cabinet door revealing complete darkness on the left side of the room. End ID]

Jonmartin sucking face in a messy environment?? by me???? it's more likely than you think. (a commission for @primtheamazing <333)

[b1gtimerush]

set the scene setting prompts (but a little more specific) from yours truly.

001, a convenience store past midnight.

002, a hospital waiting room at 3 in the morning.

003, a photoshoot outdoors in the middle of winter.

004, an indoor filming set of a detective's office.

005, a new house/apartment filled with unopened cardboard boxes.

006, a swing set in an empty playground at night.

007, on stage in an empty theatre.

008, inside an old abandoned house.

009, an empty cemetery at night.

010, the arrival hall at an airport.

011, the last train compartment that's not full.

012, the roulette table in a casino.

013, on the deck of a cruise ship.

014, a kitchen during a black out, surrounded by candles.

015, a treehouse in the middle of the woods.

016, on the dance floor during a wedding.

017, behind the chapel before the wedding ceremony starts.

018, backstage during the middle of a concert.

019, a crowded club during a bachelorette party.

020, standing in front of a painting at a museum.

021, a small, intimate family barbecue.

022, a gazebo while it's raining.

023, the back of an empty bus.

024, a hotel room with only one bed.

025, an empty balcony while a party goes on inside.

026, a bar just after closing.

027, an empty sports stadium.

028, lakeside while the sun is setting.

030, an empty stretch of road beside a broken down car.

031, in front of a suspicious pool of blood in an empty parking lot.

032, in the crowd of spectators during an underground fight.

033, a plane during a bout of turbulence.

034, on kiss cam at a sports game.

035, at a table during a charity gala.

036, a masquerade ball.

037, a halloween party in a suburban house.

038, the beach in the late afternoon.

039, a dressing room after a big performance.

040, exploring the depths of a mysterious cave.

[whenyouhearthedoorcreak]

currently thinking about merlin and arthur and the royal crown again

the first time he placed the ornate gold crown atop arthur’s blond hair he felt so proud that arthur was king, that he was alive and ready to be the king he was meant to be, the worry still crept in at the edges but most of the image was filled with hope.

but months later as he placed it once again on arthur’s head he hates it, hates the way his shoulders push back and his face falls into a sheet, the way he steels himself against the harsh pressure of it

and that evening in arthur’s chambers lit by warm candles and the crackling fire merlin had snuck out of the council meeting to light before the king returned, with the cold november air bustling the windows, merlin follows arthur over towards the table. the king leans against it his head bowed and a heavy sigh leaving his chest, and slowly as if moved by the breeze outside, merlin steps forward towards him his hands gently cupping arthur’s jaw

“arthur-”

“merlin please, i know the speech already but please i don’t want it i don’t-” he stops speaking as he feels the younger man’s hand come up to his hair removing the crown from his pounding head

“no speech, just let go for a moment, just focus on this… focus on me” merlin’s voice is quiet and careful as he looks in arthur’s eyes

he’d always loved those eyes, the revealed the secrets of the kingdom if you looked long enough. merlin knows his own eyes are blue just like arthur’s but there’s something different in the kings. in the brightest and happiest days of summer they shine like an open sky, when he laughs no matter the time of day lighting around him they just Shine.

but when he is sad, tired and worn down like he is right now, those eyes are deep and bottomless as the sea, tossing and turning and they pull merlin down into their depths like a capsized ship,

it killed merlin to see him like this, he carefully rested himself back against the edge of the table, arthur sat tired in the chair before him

“your a great king arthur”

“did you not hear me say no speech?” arthur reproached

“your a better man though, a better friend”

“oh” arthur looked at his servant, his friend for all these years,

it had always been merlin who placed the crown on arthur’s head. ever since he was corronated the only person aside from himself allowed to touch the crown was merlin,

it was a strangely intimate experience that arthur had come to covet, the quiet moment in his chamber before he spoke to or hosted a feast or whatever other occasion called for the crown to be worn. merlin would pull the ornate box containing it from the locked cupboard and pull the crown from its cushioning, polishing the metal while arthur sat and waited in his chair, watching the careful work. when merlin had deemed it worthy he would look at arthur

“ready m’lord?”

arthur was used to honourifics, he never had much preference, sire was basically a nickname at this point in his life, but something about merlin calling him that had always felt like an anointing, saved for the moments when he wanted arthur to know his rank meant something to merlin.

“ready”

arthur would rise from his seat and move to the light cast by the windows near where merlin was, kneeling gently on the stone floor, looking at its gray facing before looking up at the man he had come to call his friend, merlin’s hands would place the crown on his head gently, like he was scared it would hurt him, arthur would rise and merlin would rest his hand at arthur’s jaw, looking at him for a moment.

the first time it had happened arthur was surprised, confused to say the least. but the terror he felt at having to wear the crown, to act as king in its full capacity seemed to ease slightly at the gesture, calm moved through arthur’s whole body starting from the place where merlin lay his hand.

now, tired and worn down by the weight of the crown, he was glad for merlin’s presence for the comfort of that hand in his cheek

“you don’t need to be a great king for us all to love you” merlin’s hand fell away before he spoke, he looked at the floor as if he were holding something else back

“i think perhaps if i up and left my kingdom without a ruler the people may not love me much anymore merlin” arthur jibbed, attempting humour

“not sure they’d notice to be honest, your not particularly memorable”

“oh right yes but i’m sure everyone would notice if you left”

“oh the whole kingdom would fall apart”

“of course i forgot, sorry should i just put the crown on you now?”

“don’t think it’d fit anymore, to stretched out from your big head”

“very funny merlin” arthur had always admired merlin’s negligence of authority, how arthur was seemingly nothing more than his friend in almost all moments. he could forget the weight of the crown for a moment, he supposed that was part of the reason why merlin being the one to adorn him with it meant so much. as if merlin were naming him worthy, like a symbolic gesture of the trust they shared.

“maybe you should have the crown” arthur was somewhat shocked by his own words, but more shocked to realize he meant them

“is that a proposal?” merlin was joking, arthur knew that, but he couldn’t help indulging himself in the image, merlin in fine clothes and the bejeweled crown of a king

“could be” arthur shrugged “queen title would suit you”

“your not getting me to wear a dress”

merlin had walked away now, began folding the laundry sittting near arthur’s bed

“merlin, if i did leave” he tried to focus on the room around the servant rather than the light on merlin’s cheeks or the gold glow around his messy hair “would you come with me?”

he’d always wondered, if merlin would willingly leave with him. a pent up longing in his check for merlin is say yes, to confirm that they weren’t only thrown together by fate but that they would choose this bond, this closeness, even if nothing forced it upon them.

saying it now out loud, asking it, felt like a kind of soul bearing.

“i’m sure any of your friends would” merlin

“merlin”

the servants hands stoped moving and he raised his eyes to meet arthur’s, the angles of the kings face casted ornately in the glowing light of the fire.

“your my friend arthur, id go wherever you go” the answer felt obvious, he’d thought about it more recently, with agravaine betraying them and arthur seeming more exhausted than ever he wished he could just leave.

“your a good friend merlin” arthur reached for something on the table, an old scroll in leather wrapping that needed stored away with the other trade agreements, trying to think. good friend wasn't enough for merlin anymore, the affection he felt for the other man was unquantifiable. attempting to label his feelings for merlin was as impossible and daunting as attempting to capture the night sky in a fishing net.

what he wanted was to find a way back to merlin standing in front of him with the other boys hand combing through his hair, but that was a rare thing. all touch was for arthur, it always had been.

…

if this gets notes i’ll finish it and post it to ao3 idk ive never written fic before

[sun-snatcher]

Elrond headcanons I’ve made that keep me up at night:

i. Elros was the older twin by 2 minutes.

Maedhros and Maglor discerned as such, being brothers themselves, and what with the way the little twins reacted whenever they got into trouble and mischief. 

Elrond might have been the more stubborn between the two, yes, but Elros was the courageous one; some innate elder-brother instinct Maglor could recognise Maedhros in: first to face the burden of punishment and last to lay it down. 

Elrond always dreaded those mere minutes, because it meant he was eternally 2-minutes behind Elros, and because it lent his brother a leverage against him throughout the years they endured growing up together. But he’d only truly dreaded it the most, years after, when Elros had chosen the mortal path.

He had counted the 2 minutes after Elros had died, and then wept as he placed a kiss on his forehead; because, after all these years: 

“At last, Elros, my dear brother, I have finally caught up to you.”

ii. Elrond untintentionally made Círdan (the wisest, stalwart, and most steadily composed of all living Elves) weep full tears over a poorly folded Leaf-boat.

This was at the atelier, in the aftermath of High King Gil-Galad’s funeral rites, where they talked and talked until the sun went down the horizon. Elrond could hardly sit still— an endearingly Mannish trait, Círdan learned early on— and that’s how the Shipwright ended up teaching the Herald how to fold boats out of a banana leaf.

“Oh, dear,” it had started on the first attempt, with Elrond showing him the sad-excuse of a boat, fraying in its green edges, “Show me again, Master Círdan, how do you do it! My craft will surely sail to no shore.”

Then Círdan laughed, because “Indeed, surely, that will hardly survive a ripple, Elrond,” and then his eyes welled with tears, and he bent his head down, and suddenly he found himself crying, unable to stop at all.

He hadn’t wept this hard in Ages.

“Ah, come now, let me show you,” he sniffled, hands trembling as he meticulously corrected the little flaws of the boat. “Forgive me. Artanáro— Ereinion— I remember teaching him too, when he was but knee-high and knew naught but how to scatter sunshine wherever he went. Your boat looks as pitiful as his first try! And, why, for a moment, I—”

He didn’t continue, because there was no need to. 

“Oh, I miss him already, Elrond. How I miss him!” he’d cried. “My dear Ereinion. My darling, dearest boy.”

iii. When at last Legolas finally completed his ship and left with Gimli from Edhellond, crossing the Bay of Belfalas— they had come across a lone, folded leaf boat, bright green and drifting unmoored across the silver crests and falls of Belegaer.

Gimli peered portside (while standing on a box) to point it out. “See there, Legolas! That’s one of them Elven leaf boats, aye? How long has it wandered adrift, you reckon?”

“Long indeed!” Legolas smiled. “Elven leaves are sturdy and crafted to endure. This one was set purposely upon these waters to sail, it seems.”

“A tribute,” the Dwarf mused, eyeing the blown-out candle cradled in its heart. “This far out?”

The elf gazed keenly, South-west upon the distant blue horizon. “Why, perhaps, to the memory of the great star-lit isle of Númenor.” 

[bestcustomluxuryboxes]

A Complete Guide to Luxury Rigid Boxes

In the world of product packaging, companies want to find cool ways to be different and stick in customers' minds. Custom rigid boxes are one way to do that. These special boxes do more than regular ones – they protect the product better, give chances for cool branding, and make opening the box a memorable experience. This article will talk about why custom rigid boxes are great and how they can change the way you package your products.

The allure of meticulously crafted and visually appealing hard inserts captivates customers upon the first glance, inviting them to touch and explore. By collaborating with rigid boxes manufacturers to design customized rigid packaging that impeccably represents their retail offerings and accentuates unique features, businesses enhance the overall value, elevating the customer's journey and fostering a deeper connection with the product. This, in turn, leads to increased sales.

Endless Exterior Design Possibilities with Custom Luxury Boxes

The robust nature of custom luxury boxes opens up a plethora of design options for the exterior surface. The strength of these packages allows designers to incorporate various textures without compromising structural integrity. The superior build of sturdy containers enables them to withstand a variety of surface finishes, including lace, delicate linens, stamped plastics, velvet, wood trim, stone plates, leather, and combinations of fabrics with diverse varnish options.

Versatility of Cardboard Boxes

Whether your business is about tech, cosmetics, food, or the health industry, these luxury cardboard packagingare always available in different shapes and sizes to make them a perfect option for different products. With vast finishing options that include laminations like gloss, matte, and soft touch lamination, it becomes an ideal option to enhance the surfaces of these boxes. With vast coating options like food-friendly, pearlish, and UV coatings become a perfect option for each business. There are vast packaging industries that also offer finishing options to specific areas of luxury cardboard packaging to enhance the visual appearance of your brand’s logo and information. Be it packaging for electronics, apparel, foodstuffs, or fragile goods, cardboard offers a dependable and flexible option. Its malleability facilitates effortless customization to cater to distinct packaging needs, making it a preferred choice for businesses in search of adaptable packaging solutions. These luxury boxes are always available in the best-tailored variants to accommodate different kinds of products.

Sustainability and Environmental Friendliness

These luxury boxesare also available in simple kraft cardboard, making them perfect for businesses that prefer eco-friendly solutions. Cardboard is biodegradable and recyclable, aligning with the escalating consumer preference for eco-conscious practices. As companies aim to diminish their carbon impact, opting for cardboard boxes for packaging emerges as a sustainable alternative. Moreover, cardboard is frequently produced from recycled materials, thereby further bolstering the circular economy.

The Pervasive Trend Towards Luxury Rigid Boxes in Branding

Luxury rigid boxes are one of the best and finest variants of customized packaging boxes that are being used to accommodate different kinds of businesses. These luxury boxes packaging are available in flexible shapes and sizes to cover different types of products at affordable wholesale rates. These robust and lavish packaging solutions not only impart an enhanced sense of exclusivity but also present a unique platform for brands to articulate their identity and principles. We will now examine the widespread shift towards luxury rigid boxes and their influence on branding and delve into the importance of partnering with trustworthy rigid box manufacturers to realize custom packaging solutions.

Opt for Luxury Candle Boxes:

There are numerous packaging industries that manufacture these boxes by providing vast material options to their clients, with which you can make them a perfect choice for your precious candles. To truly stand out, think about opting for luxury candle boxes. These boxes radiate elegance and impart a high-end feel to your candles. The employment of top-tier materials like sturdy cardboard or refined paper lends an air of opulence. Customers frequently link superior packaging with top-notch products, making luxury candle boxes a worthwhile investment for your brand.

Incorporate Unique Shapes and Sizes:

Numerous packaging industries own efficient customer support systems, through which you can consult your ideas regarding shapes and sizes to make your candle packaging perfect for branding. Venture beyond the traditional rectangular box and contemplate distinctive shapes and sizes for your candle packaging. Atypical shapes not only capture interest but also introduce an element of surprise for customers. Play around with various dimensions to craft a visually enticing display on retail shelves. This distinctiveness will render your candles unforgettable and set them apart from rivals.

The Allure of Luxury Candle Boxes Wholesale

Candle producers and sellers understand that packaging is more than just a safeguard; it’s a reflection of the brand itself. This insight has fueled the growing trend of luxury candle boxes wholesale. These elegant boxes not only shield the fragile candles but also enhance the entire unboxing journey for the consumer. The employment of premium materials, detailed designs, and meticulous attention in luxury candle packaging boxes not only conveys a feeling of luxury but also underscores the brand’s dedication to excellence.

Candle Boxes Wholesale for Cost-Efficiency

While the allure of luxury packaging is undeniable, businesses must also factor in cost efficiency. This is where the idea of wholesale candle boxes becomes relevant. Choosing wholesale packaging enables firms to find a middle ground between cost and aesthetic appeal. By placing orders in large quantities, firms can considerably cut down the cost per unit, rendering custom candle packaging an economical and feasible choice for enterprises of varying scales.

[unholyhelbig]

fuck yes wandanat!!!

Center picture Cred: Jadiakallisti

Title: The Beast You've Made of Me [Part 1/7]

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Wordcount: 3977

Summary: When reader wakes up in her own grave, she's suddenly aware of a past that spans lifetimes, but she's not the only one. Two Avengers are tasked with keeping readers past a secret, or at the very least, controlled.

Warnings: Being buried alive, claustrophobia, guns, general violence, cold leftovers and horrible grammar.

[a/n: Let me know if anyone wants to join the taglist! I should be able to post every week to bi-weekly depending on some travel! This is setting some things up, but I promise it gets better.]

[ Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven ]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

The weight of dirt was beginning to make the lid of the state provided casket buckle. It wasn’t very sturdy despite its drastic price that the government contemplated paying. It would have been easier to cremate, send you into the afterlife with the kiss of fire white-hot enough to melt bone. But your will had been specific, not necessarily written by you, but detailing that you must be buried, nonetheless.

No state representative wanted to have the ghost of a twenty-something paralegal on their hands. Though most were Roman Catholic and believed whole-heartedly that once a candle was lit in recognition a spirit couldn’t possibly seek vengeance. Still, they respected your wishes.

No, not your wishes. You were too young to even think of a will, or any specifications that would result in your burial. You still swallowed two cans of candle-flavored alcoholic seltzer with your sad dinner of microwaveable lasagna. You hadn’t made a habit of signing legal documents between sloppy bites and buzzed naps in the sun.

Which begged the question of why you were in a casket in the first place, and why dirt was starting to sprinkle down from the creaking wood above. Doctors made mistakes, but burying you alive? Well- shit, that was less of a mistake and more of a deliberate ignorance.

Your body was stiff, cold and unwelcoming to the life that suddenly thrummed through you. Maybe you had been dead. Nothing two full bottles of Advil couldn’t ebb out of you. Your fingertips pushed against the fabric lining, testing the validity of the box you were in.

This was all somehow extremely familiar; the darkness that swam around you, the putrid scent of your own breath after being beneath the earth for God knows how long. You could taste the film on your teeth and almost craved a toothbrush more than you did freedom. Almost.

Despite the pain in your calves, you situated yourself to where your feet pressed against the lid. With just a little leverage maybe you could push hard enough to free yourself. There was a rhythmic shoveling above; so you weren’t completely packed in yet.

Suddenly, very thankful for the yoga classes Jennifer was making you take, you maneuvered until you got enough strength to push. For a few agonizing moments, nothing budged except your spine. Fuck, fuck, fuck. A few more breaths and a harder push and the latches on the outside of the casket seemed to give way to the pressure with a small pop. You could taste dirt, feel it in your eyes.

Another brisk shove and the lid flung off it’s hinges, crashing loudly against the meticulously carved grave. You winced at the cold soil that suddenly surrounded you. Worms squirmed against your skin and that was enough for you to sit up with gusto, holding back a stomach full of vomit. Formaldehyde? It tasted terrible, either way.

You shivered and dusted yourself off. It was either early morning or just before dusk. You couldn’t tell but the electric blue sky had just started to fade to orange. You wouldn’t have been able to handle the sun being in full force, barely blinking away the color of the world, much brighter than the dark box you’d dismantled.

And boy, did you dismantle it. You’d only intended to push it up, free yourself, but the cheap wood had splintered and crumbled under just a little force. You stood in the wreckage and peered up at the company you had obtained.

“What the fuck?!”

It was a man who looked younger than you in his fear. He held a shovel in his hands, hugging it close to his chest. His mouth was slightly opened and his deep brown eyes were widened in fear and shock. The knees of his dark blue jumpsuit were stained with dirt and water.

“Can you give me a boost?” You croaked.

“A boost… I, fuck, I shouldn’t’ have taken this job.”

“You can quit after you help me out of this hole.” You shivered, looking down at the dirt below your feet. You swore you saw it pulse like a heartbeat. Too many worms, maybe even a few spiders. You’d never been too fond of bugs. You reached your caked hand up. “Please.”

He made a small noise in the back of his throat. “I don’t want to be patient zero.”

“Do I look like a zombie to you?”

“A little,”

“Now I’m offended and freezing my ass off.”  

He regarded you, probably checking for a nasty festering bite, yellowing skin and any general signs of reanimation. When he didn’t find any, he reached a shaking hand down to you. Both of you struggled and strained until you found the perfect hold on the side of the grave. God- you were never so happy to touch grass.

You panted and stared up at the sky, stars were starting to pockmark the navy blue. It was, in fact, night. The metal tip of a shovel was pointed towards your neck. “Aw, come on, I thought we bonded there.”

“I’m talking to a corpse, we are not bonding.”

“Where are we?” You ignored his pointed stare and tilted yourself up on your elbows. A cemetery was the easy answer. But you wanted to know which one. There were at least 1,700 in the state of New York alone, and they all looked deceivingly the same. “Do I have to take a cab to Manhattan?”

“Uh, you’re in White Plains. Mount Calvary cemetery. I’m- I’m sorry, is this not freaking you out at all?”

You frowned, patting the pockets of a pair of jeans (why the hell would they bury you in jeans, they were the worst). In a long exhale you said. “Shit. I think worms ate my cash.”

It was a longshot to even think that your phone would be in your pocket. It wasn’t. But that left you stranded almost an hour, by car, outside of the city. It would be morning by the time you made it back and that was if no-one pulled up to the side of the road and tried their luck.

You did the only thing you can think of and peered up at this stranger with watery, wide eyes. It wasn’t a move you pulled often, meaning it still worked on Jennifer, on your mother and your father. This was a last resort and you were certainly willing to use it to your advantage.

“What? No.” He shook his head “No! No! Absolutely not. You just dug yourself out of a grave I fucking refuse-“

His name was Austin and he drove a 2002 Ford that needed to warm up for a few minutes before he even considered pulling out of the gravel drive. He was pressed as far as possible away from you and that didn’t exactly boost your confidence, but honestly, truthfully, you would take what you could get at this point.

Austin asked if you were freaking out, and you were. Everything was patchy and black in some places. You couldn’t remember how you’d ended up in a casket. It was clearly a situation that irked you for more than one reason. The forefront of which; no one had attended your funeral.

You weren’t even from White Plains. You’d known from your day job that this place had more than one government funded cemetery. So, most likely, you were given a half-rate priest with liquor on his breath and a funeral director that may have taken the twenty from your pocket, not the worms.

Your stomach clenched as Austin began to drive. He was tapping his fingers against the steering wheel nervously, and could you blame him? A corpse was in his passenger seat. Though, you felt alive enough.

“What’s your name?” He eventually asked, flicking on his high beams. You were on a long and deserted road flanked by oak trees. The occasional field passed by, the reflective quarter-sized eyes of cows blinking at the truck. “Frankenstein?”

You snorted, “Ha-ha. Frankenstein was the doctor, not the monster, you know? And I don’t remember my pitiful grave being struck by lightning.”

“You’re deflecting.”

“Perhaps.”

“Pitiful? Really? I work hard to maintain those graves.”

“I’m sure they’re lovely.” There was a rolling beat of silence. He glanced at you twice before shrugging his shoulders and leaning his chest closer to the wheel to see better. “It’s y/n. Wasn’t it written on the stone?”

Austin shook his head softly, “No, they don’t put the stone in until later. I’m supposed to spray paint a neon ‘x’ on the packed dirt, so they know what to make.”

How humiliating. You’d supposedly died, no one came to your funeral, and you were reduced to less than a quarter of spray paint. There was a system to everything, but this one made your self-importance fizzle out like a covered candle. There one moment and gone the next.

“Do you have a plan?” Austin changed the subject.

“A plan?”

“Yeah, like, are you just going to show up and say surprise, I’m alive? I’ve seen a lot of horror movies and that never goes well.”

Well, that was your plan. It was a damned good one too. There was nowhere else for you to go. While this near stranger was nice enough, you couldn’t impose on him for more than a single ride. His kind chocolate stare was telling enough. He would let you stay with him as long as it took to figure all of… this, out.

“Yeah,” You sighed out, leaning your head against the cool glass “That’s all I’ve got.”

Jennifer’s apartment building had a small box that required a code for entry. You knew the right numbers to press in the right order, they had faded away from regular use, but the door was always propped open by a cinderblock to let in the cool summer air.

If it rained hard enough, New Yorkers would take partial shelter under the awnings, and sometimes going as far as to loiter in the front lobby by the large set of mailboxes. They were the oldest and most fascinating part of the building, large and wrought iron. Allegedly, they’d survived three building fires.

Thankfully, no one but you stood in the lobby as you watched Austin’s taillights flicker out of existence. You’d have to thank him later- of course, you hadn’t gotten his number, but you knew where her work. At least where he worked up until now.

Escorting someone who had kicked their way out of their own grave back into the city was grounds for quitting, in your book.

The elevator was the second oldest thing in the building, but you somehow felt a wave of relief wash over you when the familiar warmth pressed against your skin. The mechanics jolted and hummed like an old lawn mower. All of these were comfortable.

Hunger tinged at your stomach in one fail swoop of feeling. You steadied yourself against the reflective interior of the elevator as it rose to the highest floor. Each number was signified in a loud and crude beep. You were tempted to hit the emergency stop; gaging the feeling in your abdomen.

Brains?

Yeah, the thought of them was absolutely unappetizing. Austin had gotten into your head. There was no innate need to dig your teeth into flesh and devour. In fact, you became more nauseous at the idea than before it popped into your head.

Zombies were chained to shitty horror movies you and Jennifer curled up to watch every Friday night, making fun of the gelatin that was used for wiggly guts and the cooked rice substituted for maggots. You could go for rice right now.

Knowing your best friend, she would have some sort of left-over cuisine in her fridge and you didn’t hesitate to run your fingers over the top of the doorframe to procure her hidden key, taped with a single strip of adhesive to the surrounding paneling.

Her apartment was dark save for the small tank with a one-finned goldfish named Gus. He barely regarded you, the dull buzz of his home and the pale blue light gave you all the vision you needed. Again, the familiarity of Jennifer’s apartment warmed you, comforted you. If you stopped for too long, you’d think about it all too much.

Waking up in a grave, not remember how you got there in the first place. When was the last time you’d had a meal? You’d purposefully avoided the side mirrors in Austin’s car, even the rearview was gently nudged by your dirt-caked hand. One thing at a time.

The fridge swung open with a satisfying pop and you were never more thankful for the red and white takeout containers that rested on the top shelf next to a box of wine. Neither of you ever claimed to be fancy.

You knew Jennifer’s order like the back of your hand. Sweet and sour chicken with a side of fried rice and no matter what, you would eat it cold. When the scent hit you, you even considered going forkless. If not for the slick dirt under your nails, you would have.

There was instant satisfaction in shoveling a mouthful of rice into your mouth, you barely chewed before swallowing. The neon light from the open fridge illuminated your shame and you swore that Gus, the one-finned fish, was judging you. He ate flakes for fucks sake, watching you spoon cold leftovers was the least of his worries.

You’d moved on from the rice and to the chicken before you noticed that you had company. It was a shift in the air, the feeling of being watched. But there was something more too, something like an itch on the back of your neck.

In a split second you turned from your cold meal and lifted your hand up with enough time to grip a wedge golf club that Jennifer had gotten from her father for her twenty-first birthday. They collected dust next to her coatrack, and right now, the metal edge was less than an inch away from slamming into the side of your temple.

You’d never been necessarily graceful, nor good at picking up on your surroundings. You never had to be, not with your work as a paralegal. The worst thing you had to look out for was a bad reaction to burnt office coffee.

Jenn was in an oversized Pink Floyd t-shirt and a pair of boxers, her eyes were wild, hair even wilder. A bloom of fondness wash over you despite her attempt at assault. You couldn’t blame her either, your mind so one-track on getting a meal that you hadn’t warned your best friend, not in the slightest.

“Fuck! What the fuck!” she wrenched the club away from you and moved to swing again, holding it behind her head like a baseball bat.

“Jesus Christ! Oh my God, put the wedge down!”

“You’re not-“She gulped in a cold breath of air “you died!”

“Don’t hit me with that thing and kill me again!”

Her chest was heaving up and down, fingers tightening against the rubber grip handle. Her eyes were frantic. “Did you eat my leftovers?”

You blinked at her, not sure what to say. She didn’t give you a chance to answer either, instead she sprung forward and wrapped you in a bone-crushing hug. You breathed her in, her scent of summer rain and freshly cleaned laundry. Her hair tickled your nose but you held her back, held her as if it were the last time you ever would.

Something softly broke within you, and you felt tears well up in your eyes. They slid silently down your cheeks. The fridge closed with a padded thump and plunged you both into the neon blue glow. Eventually, the club fell to the floor with a clank and her fingers fisted your shirt. You were thankful that she didn’t use her full strength.

“How is this happening?”

“I don’t know,” You rasped.

And you didn’t. Everything was so fuzzy and each time you attempted to press the subject in your mind, you felt the start of a headache at the base of your skull. For now, you were perfectly content holding your friend flush against you.

“You smell so bad,” She sobbed.

“Yeah, well, I was dead.”

Jenn pulled back and squeezed both of your shoulders, studying you longer than you had studied yourself, her breath shuddered “Maybe this is one of those Halloween things, like… like you have one night back on earth.”

You gave her a weak smile “It’s June, Jenn.”

She frowned at you, fingers pressing against your goosebump covered skin. “Sweetie, it’s October. You’ve been… gone, four months.”

But you hadn’t been buried since June. You were barely buried this evening. Your body ached from how stiff the casket had been, fingers numbed from the cold. You figured you were jarred, not in a different season altogether.

“I don’t… I don’t remember anything.”  

She swallowed hard, linking her hands behind your, they rested at the base of your spine. You could tell that she was afraid to release her hold on you. Her breath was warm against your collarbone.

“You were hit by a car that blew through a redlight.”

Okay- anticlimactic. You worked alongside Jennifer at Goodman, Lieber, Kurzberg and Holliway on cases that were focused on Inhumans, superheroes and supernatural beings that had gotten themselves into legal trouble. Being taken out by a car accident wasn’t on your top-five ways to go.

“It was all very… weird. They wouldn’t’ let me see you, and at first, I thought it was because we’re not family, but they didn’t let them in either. I even pulled the attorney card, which I’m not proud of, but they refused to let us even identify you.”

She withdrew her touch and started to pace around the kitchen. It was her way of thinking, and now that she was sure that you were a solid being, she was free to move around. “Even when I got six feet tall, mean and green, they wouldn’t let me in. I was two seconds from calling Bruce.”

Jenn stopped and lifted both eyebrows at you “You look remarkable for someone who has been under the earth for months.”

“I was being buried today in White Plains. I’m assuming there was no funeral, then?”

“No… no. They had said that private arrangements had been made and it’s my guess that those were keeping you on ice until now.”

You winced at the phrasing. You were never too fond of hospitals and the blocks in your memory scared you more than anything. If what Jennifer was saying was right, then, you may not have died in that intersection. You may have been through something much, much worse.

“Sorry,” She sighed out, desensitized just as you were. “Y/n, you can’t remember anything?”

“No,” The word came out as a broken whisper.

The two of you stood in a quiet moment. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, and you held onto that feeling. It was there, you were there, pockmarked memory and all. You felt the urge to reach out and hold Jennifer again, suddenly so exhausted you didn’t’ imagine your legs holding you up much longer.

Her eyes flickered down to the center of your chest and then back up to your stare with an immeasurable amount of fear. When you gazed down at the dirt-stained shirt, you saw a red dot, quivering as if a hand was behind it’s direction. Your shoulders slumped.

“aw, fuck.”

Jennifer let out a scream as her front door was splintered open and flung with great force across the room. The two windows that overlooked the view of the city shattered as heels broke against the panes. The one singular dot had changed to seven, long-range rifles aimed at you, and you were suddenly very sad that your last meal would be cold leftover rice.

Even in the dark, you knew that they had knocked over the fishtank holding Gus, multicolored rocks and glass slid across the wooden floor. There were light gray circles against the breasts of these intruders, a bird with outstretched wings in it’s center.

Your hands went up reflexively, both you ducked behind the breakfast nook, you were close to plugging your ears, the red dots trained on the fridge now, “Oh my god, did you call SHIELD?”

“No! No, I didn’t even know you were alive three minutes ago, I was going to hit you with a golf club and call the cops, not SHIELD.”

They were assholes and tight-lipped about everything, always. It was hard to get a phone call back from them divulging information about ongoing lawsuits, but now they were in front of you, guns raised and depriving Jennifer’s fish of life.

“Gus is going to drown,” You whispered harshly back.

“He’s a fish, he can’t drown.”

“In air.”

There was obvious shifting of firearms. The Agents were all calculated and still with their movements, there wasn’t subtle noise without intent. A gruff, raspy female voice called out to you. “Come out with your hands up, y/n.”

You peaked over the breakfast bar and squinted into the darkness. Your body was not equipped for this. It was already protesting from kicking open the casket with a bought of strength. It certainly wasn’t prepared for this.

Most of the agents were in swat gear, bullet-proof vests and helmets, their faces were covered with balaclava’s, leaving only small strips of exposed skin and eyes trained on you. You hadn’t had this much attention directed at you since your fifth-grade talent show, and you figured the last time would be your funeral, but that hadn’t gone exactly to plan.

The woman who was speaking was in a tactical suit. She didn’t’ bother to cover her identity, she didn’t have to. This was the Black Widow. Natasha Romanoff. Jennifer had gotten drunk one night after a losing case and told you about her cousin having a bit of a fling with her. You’d met Bruce, and that was… unbelievable in the nicest way possible.

Her emerald eyes were trained on you, serious and hard. A tingle ripped up your spine and your stomach squirmed at her scrutiny. Maybe it was the rice and the chicken, but you felt the urge to vomit. You wanted her to say your name again, despite not understanding why she knew it in the first place.

Jennifer gripped your ankle, shaking her head ‘no’ vigorously. Really, you should trust your lawyer friend.

The Black widow let out a sigh, the tip of her handgun pointed to the ground. “You can either come out, or I’ll blow a hole through your chest. Your choice.”

Your gaze flashed down to Jenn and she seemed to have changed her mind within a second, nodding with caution. “Okay, okay.”

Once you were at full height, the room bustled in movement. Your eyes remained on the Black Widow, and hers on yours. Your mouth felt dry, the tip of her gun pushing against your ribs before she flipped you and bent you over the granite counter. Jennifer was using her heels to scoot back to the fridge, trying to avoid the agents swarming around.

Metal cuffs were slapped against your wrists. The Black Widow was pressed flush against you, her warmth dominating. She grasped the back of your shirt and pulled you up. You were, for a fleeting moment, at her mercy. Her fingers searched your pockets, padded down your sides. Once she figured you clean, she holstered her weapon. “Y/n Y/l/n,” she husked in your ear. You suppressed a shiver, knowing she’d feel any move you made right now. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

Taglist: No one yet :(

[perseephoneee]

kinktober 6 (klaus mikaelson x f!reader)

↳ masterlist ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist ↳ kinktober masterlist

content warnings: blood sharing, you taste your own blood, slight cock warming

a/n: part two of kinktober halloween! i'm a practicing witch so i got wayyy too into the details.

all of these are inspired by this post by @moremaybank

Being a witch in New Orleans meant two things. One, you were guaranteed a run-in with the Mikaelson Family. Two, Klaus Mikaelson would either want to kill you or use you.

To your fate, he found you mildly amusing and infinitely useful. You had a particular percolation towards divination and had luck advising people in the past on what paths to avoid. In exchange for not killing your friends, Klaus has requested your services. Lucky you.

Tonight, you were not with Klaus. You were in your home, lighting candles for Samhain. You were wearing a black dress and witches hat in case trick-or-treaters came by. You had already set up your altar with photos of your ancestors. You were in the process of setting aside some of your dinner as an offering. You were supposed to be left alone. You were never that lucky.

You hear knocking on the door and open it to see Klaus smiling like a cat.

"Trick or treat," he said mockingly. You considered the merits of slamming the door in his face.

"This is my night off."

"This is a friendly call," Klaus said, peering into your home. "Care to invite me in?"

"Friendly entails that we're friends."

"We are friends, love. I even brought you a gift," Klaus said, pulling a box out of his pocket, ribbon wrapped around it. You narrowed your eyes, taking the gift hesitantly and opening it to see a ring. It was a Claddagh ring, except instead of being all silver, the heart was made out of black tourmaline for protection.

"What's the catch?" you asked.

"No catch. I saw it and thought of you," Klaus sighed. "It really is cold out here, and I would be appreciative if you invited me in."

Realizing you weren't going to get the original off your doorstep in any timely manner, you sighed and invited him in. He smiled, immediately inspecting your home as he entered. You went back to your alter, arranging everything as you gathered other supplies.

"In the middle of something?"

"Yes, tonight is actually an important night for my people," you mumbled, filling your arms with candles.

"Ah, Samhain, when all the people I've killed decide to haunt me."

"Do they really?" you turned to look at him, hiding amusement.

"Yes, it's rather annoying," Klaus took the candles out of your arms as you struggled to hold everything. You mumbled a thanks, heading to your living room with him falling behind you. "What spell are you casting this evening?"

"I'm giving thanks to my ancestors and asking for safe passage into the new year," you responded, putting all your materials on the ground. You also liked to give thanks to Hecate, but you didn't think he'd care much about that. Surprisingly, Klaus was silent and even helped you set up your circle. You shuffled your tarot cards, laying seven out before you as you got comfortable on the ground.

"Am I allowed to be here?" Klaus asked. You paused.

"Actually, it's sometimes helpful to have another person as a consort," you answered honestly. You thought he might bite your head off for calling him a witch's consort, but he just nodded and sat next to you as well. You snapped your fingers, lighting all the candles as you took several deep breaths. "I give thanks this Samhain and request safe passage into the new year. I light these candles for my ancestors, Hecate, and Mother Earth, who I will see in spring. Use me as your guide and as your soldier."

The flames burned brighter, a slight wind picking up in the room. Klaus looked around curiously as you flipped over your cards to see the message given to you. The spirits materialized slightly in the room, and you felt their energy trying to pull from yours, desperate for a life of their own. You weren't expecting the force and recoiled slightly as you continued chanting thanks and deciphering the cards. The flames grew hotter, and you struggled to hold your own against so many ghosts. Without warning, you felt Klaus put a hand on your shoulder. You didn't ask before latching on to his energy, pulling from it as an extra force to push back the spirits from the veil. When you closed the circle and finished your spell, the candles burned down to small flames again, leaving you in the quiet of your home. You felt yourself start to fall, Klaus catching you and holding you up as you regained your footing in the living world.

"Is that what usually occurs?" he asked.

"Sometimes, it was just stronger this time around," you coughed, trying to sit up. Klaus helped you, but he didn't remove his hands from you. "Having you around was what helped me push them back."

"Well, we do make a good team," Klaus smiled. You were quiet as you searched his eyes.

"Klaus, why did you come here tonight?"

He paused. "Would it be wrong to say because I missed you?"

You shook your head no, and he visibly relaxed.

"Y/N," Klaus said. "I'm going to kiss you."

You nodded, and he leaned in, kissing you reverently. The big bad of New Orleans was gentler than you imagined, his hands soft against your face as he pulled you closer to him. You sighed into the kiss, letting him deepen it as he laid you carefully on the ground. You pulled him on top of you, fingers scratching his scalp as one of his hands pushed up your dress. He pulled your legs around him, allowing you to feel him against your core.

The kiss grew in intensity, Klaus nipping your lip and coaxing a moan.

"Klaus," you breathed. "I want you, please."

Klaus chuckled at your begging, sitting up to remove his shirt. You removed the rest of your clothes, heat spreading through your body as Klaus admired your form. He sat back against your couch, pulling you into his lap and kissing you again. You let yourself sink down on him, moaning and burying your face in his neck. His hands grabbed your ass, helping you move as you worked up a rhythm. You felt so full with him in you, and the growls you were coaxing from him were enough to bring you to the edge. Klaus brought his hand between you, rubbing over your bud and helping you come with a cry. He held you up as he chased his own release, and when he came, he sank his teeth into your neck.

You had never had a vampire drink from you before, but you expected it to hurt. Klaus drinking from you, though, felt intimate. Like you were now a part of him, he could never shed. Even after he slowed your movements, it took him a second to detach from your neck. His lips were coated red as he rested his head back. Curiosity got the better of you, and you wiped his mouth with your thumb and licked it clean. The taste of your own blood wasn't as appetizing as it was to vampires, but you saw the way Klaus zeroed in on your lips, and it made it worth it. He bit the inside of his wrist, holding it up to you to drink from. You accepted, not breaking eye contact as you felt your skin stitch itself back together.

You both sat in silence.

"You know a Claddagh ring is typically reserved for lovers?" you asked.

"I'm well aware, love."

"Why do I feel this was your plan all along, to seduce me?" you traced his chest, narrowing your eyes at him. He just smirked.

"I've wanted you since I saw you; I just finally saw an opening."

You kissed him again, feeling him everywhere inside of you, as you spent the rest of the evening together as one.

[simpleeindulge]

What You're Getting for Valentine's Day!

Info: Fem/reader x One Piece Men, Monster Trio, Eustass Kid, Trafalgar Law, fluff, minor suggestive ideas, soft Headcanons

He's no Casanova, but the man does pay attention.

While Sanji, Nami, and Usopp are trying to hook him up with the usual stuff, Zoro will get you something you want.

That journal and pen set you liked, that hairpiece you thought was cute, or even the shoes you thought would look good with a dress you haven't worn yet.

He doesn't do it to be different or because he thinks the day is dumb, which he does; he does it because he knows you will like it (and prove to the cook that he does know something about romance).

But yes, he will give you all the gifts the rest of the crew had ready for him anyway.

His gift surprises you because you don't think he pays attention, but the man does.

Now, he is new to this and does and does not get it. He loves you every day, so why is today different. After getting schooled by Franky, Usopp, and Sanji, Luffy is on board. (Nami offers help, but the boys tell her they got this.)

What follows is some chaos. He will beg Sanji to show him how to make chocolates, ask Usopp to help make a teddy bear, and beg Nami to find an island so he can find flowers. (Robin did offer hers, but Luffy wants to do this on his own.)

What you get is truly something from the heart. A box of lumpy-looking chocolate hearts, a bear that, for some reason, shoots lasers (Franky's idea), and a bouquet of poisonous jungle flowers.

It's hard not to smile at Luffy when he looks proudly at you with his gifts.

You know Luffy cares, and it feels good to see that he had fun treating you.

The whole nine yards and then some. You're drowning in chocolate and smuttered with flowers. It's so bad that the other men beg Nami to dock the ship so they can escape. (They'll be back later for the food.)

That's fine by him because he has other things planned for you, starting with a long white box with a dark red bow.

Yes, it's lingerie, but it's good quality and something you would wear.

He'll romance you into it by making you a bath, lighting candles, and setting out all your favorite lotions and oils.

The man may be a pervert, but he knows how to turn up the charm and treat you special.

You're basically going to have the Valentine's Day the stores wish they could promote.

Valen-what-now?! HaHAHAHhahaaa!

Okay, but seriously, Kid is going to that guy who remembers at the very last minute and could give a shit.

Killer is your savior in this department because he knows how to speak "Kid" and what could motivate him. You and sex.

Expect lingerie, flavored oils, heels, jewelry, strawberry chocolates, whipped cream (you know why), silk rope in your favorite color, and candles (to be used differently if he can talk you into it.)

Killer will help set the mood with roses and candles(different ones) and leave the rest to Kid.

Kid may be a rough diamond, but he knows how to turn on the charm, and you won't see it coming till it's too late.

I would laugh here as well, but Law is an intelligent man. Happy girlfriend equals...PEACE!

He'll do the three essential gifts and think that he is set. It should keep you happy, right?

Well, it will, but after getting a second option from Ikkaku, Law is shocked to learn that he is boring with his lazy Valentine’s wooing. His gifts are fine, but he has no other plans, just the usual daily work!

In a panic, Law will rethink his plan just in time to order the ship to find land. He'll ask you to go with him to a nice restaurant and maybe a walk to see the sunset.

It's cheesy and still predictable, but you love it because Law does not leave his comfort zone for anyone except you (and Bepo). While the flowers are lovely, his time and attention are a better gift.

[inklore]

if it's one thing your girl is great at it's making a million different google docs full of lists full of resources, ideas, etc that will help future me when it comes to posting fics.

fic titles are literally one of the biggest lists i have and not even in a perfect world where i write ten fics a day would i ever be able to use all of these, and i don't like to see things go to waste, and i know there's people out there that struggle with titles as much as i do. so i hope this list comes in handy for someone!

i don't think i need to say this but just in case: no one owns fic titles, anyone can use these, a dozen people or one or none. these are literally just words and letters. no one owns them. sharing is caring, enjoy lovies!

★ — ONE WORD.

overboard 

runaway 

repercussions 

sledgehammer 

stargazing 

symmetry 

deathless 

honey 

retrograde 

stitches 

gravity 

helpline 

hollow 

suffer 

pushing 

warrant 

want 

wonder 

emotions 

nonchalant 

lavender 

daydream 

nosebleed 

jigsaw 

static 

float 

limbs 

hologram 

careless 

lush 

rotting 

phonograph 

hypnotic 

splinters 

magnetic 

wasted 

lithium 

dealer 

she

candles 

sabotage 

secrets

better

crescendo

deny

phenomenon

nights

guilty

move

criminal

blue

rise

thirsty

strangers

clockwork

closer

hectic

change

somebody

more

misery

like

sour

lowkey

peaches

she

nervous

sympathy

scars

disappear

melody

gemini

cruel

persona

supernatural

nectar

obsessed

casual

tryant

xo

dare

honestly

yummy

out

paradise

nuts

groin

heaven

lost

stardust

tangerine

monolith

lunch

pov

perfume

dealer

tough

arson

★ — TWO WORDS.

hush hush

night away

heart stop

stone heart

waiting for

black rose

sad kids

spine breaker

look here

autumn leaves

for you

spring day

love maze

bad decisions

take two

wild flower

blue side

rainy days

face off

slow dancing

polar night

like crazy

club heaven

deeper water

romantic devil

hold me

angel eyes

picture you

after midnight

twilight zone

drain me

sorry sorry

pretty please

how sweet

bubble gum

empty box

love therapy

play me

red velvet 

cherry bullet 

midnight guest 

cherry wish 

code words

ghost walk

bad intentions 

atlas hands 

broken crown 

crystallized words 

filthy pride 

fresh eyes 

heavy feet 

hungry ghosts 

imaginary paintings 

neon jungle 

perfect storm 

slow hands 

stop signs 

sad farewells 

untranslated stars 

after hours 

bad liar 

bonfire heart 

bruised lips 

cherry bomb 

damaged goods 

dead end 

fire away 

gunpowder hourglass 

lonely together 

lost language 

old moons 

one dance 

paper knees 

sleepy eyes 

stolen dance 

vice city 

artificial heart 

cry baby 

daylight fading 

dream awake 

empty bottle 

exit wounds 

ghost orchards 

moving stones 

paper walls 

oceans away 

playing fiction 

something wild 

wild thoughts 

everybody’s fool 

eyes closed 

storms incarnate 

writing tragedies 

stereo driver 

soul searching 

party’s over 

backseat driving 

fearful heart 

backwards directions 

nosebleed seats 

high hopes 

lovers rock

wet dream 

selfish soul 

washed away 

rose rogue 

midnight sun 

teenage fantasy 

wandering romance 

sure thing 

wildest dreams 

rock candy

losing momentum 

ruin you 

heart holiday 

sink her 

cut splinters 

hot mess 

frozen devotion 

little star 

blind faith 

favorite crime 

romantic homicide 

those eyes 

play pretend 

plot line 

pretty poison 

intimidate you 

pretty face 

strawberry kisses 

lovers rock 

worlds apart 

desperate/separate ways 

those eyes 

the blonde 

loving machine 

spill blood

someone’s someone

★ — THREE WORDS.

got my number

happy without me

not over you

crazy for you

back to you

flame of love

just one day

let me know

hold me tight

make it right

closer than this

love me again

still with you

out of love

never let go

love in space

ready to bleed 

bleed for love

between the bars 

can’t be still

cold morning mist 

in cold blood

matter of time 

piece by piece 

ship to wreck 

taut with love 

waste a moment 

can’t see straight 

down and out 

in a blackout 

just like fire 

notes on tenderness 

across the room

fire with fire 

going half-mad

loving to ruins 

rust to gold

send my love 

talking in code 

cradling a dream 

cut to black 

dear to me 

run me dry 

dancing with demons 

kiss and tell 

if you care 

the cry out 

steal this night 

just for now 

heart on fire 

hold my head 

nobody but you 

simple and plain

a familiar sound 

fool for you 

drown your memory 

falling into you 

just like heaven 

warm like beaches 

love that stings 

rotting in places 

moves on you 

save your tears 

a single tear 

light my cigarette 

long nights, daydreams 

boys like you 

love me forever 

hands on me 

like a phonograph 

taking over me 

dug so deep 

touch the ground 

heart shaped box 

where’s my love

tears of gold

lover of mine 

love me wrong

kiss or kill 

exes and why’s 

love is easy 

stupid in love 

easy to love

lost with you 

glimpse of us 

keep you safe 

death with dignity 

just like heaven 

heart of glass 

baby i’m yours 

pull my strings 

★ — FOUR+ WORDS.

love me a little

happy without me

you can't hold my heart

wishing on a star

give it to me

around the world in a day

waste it on me

this mess is yours

feeling like i do 

on a war path 

blood on the surface 

corner of the sky 

do the divine love 

drinking the corinthian sun 

everything is laced in (add word) 

lost in the moment 

in the nick of time 

mouth like a pomegranate 

the bones you’re made of 

when the mania speaks 

all desire & no thought 

blue in the face 

collapsing and relapsing 

middle of the night 

sail to the sun 

lay down your arms 

falling into the sky 

take me where your heart is 

she’s like the bad weather 

kill for your love 

the cigarette and the smoker 

the match and the fuse 

saint, i’m a sinner 

when the sky comes falling 

pretty little hand in mine 

even when the sun don’t shine

staring at the sun / sunset 

tangled up with you all night 

paper airplanes flying 

maybe i’m a fool 

tastes like rock candy 

blood in a lemon

(a) heart ready to die 

fate is losing its patience 

at least we feel alive 

death for your secrets 

someone’s gonna ruin you 

dancing in a crowded room 

smell you on my clothes 

always taste like you 

leave me wanting more 

hunger for (insert here) 

swim before you drown 

put your hands on me 

drink my (these) tears and cry 

i’d sleep all day just to dream of you 

so high we never stood a chance 

i’d break down anytime for you 

maybe i’m wrong, or maybe it’s true 

i only breathe so that i breathe with you

a worn out cassette 

lips on my cold neck 

talking in my sleep 

make me feel like someone else 

locked inside your heart 

hooked on her flesh 

it’s bloody and raw 

the angel of small death 

just a couple sinners 

smiles cover your heart 

charmer and the snake 

stuck on your thumb 

if i killed someone for you 

dancing with your ghost 

i miss you, i’m sorry 

woman of the hour 

shut up and look pretty 

queen of the night 

devil in a dress 

the thought of you 

to be your lover 

falling over you 

just like a movie 

love on the line