#dusty oranges and glowing black light blues

[awardwinningbread]

I swear to god, yeti’s is the worst name, i will riot if we’re the yeti’s

i'm still mad about 'utah hockey club' if anyone's wondering

[peachesofteal]

Ghoap x female reader / 18+

Everything was fine.

Your phone was quiet, but that didn’t mean anything. You would wait. You’ve waited before.

Sometimes it took a while for them to ring. They had a life together, a home, things to take care of. They had lives to rebuild every time they touched down, got home, got out of their work clothes. Pieces to patch, blood to wash clean.

You weren’t their girlfriend. They aren’t beholden to you, there’s no sacred vow tethering the three of you, no promises or pledges. You don’t know Johnny’s middle name, or Simon’s, anything about their families, their private lives. You barely knew about their jobs, only holding the scraps tossed to questions lobbed back and forth across pillows. They leave little marks across your mind, little spots of scars, knowledge scratched into your skin, sunk into your body, but never too much.

You weren’t a part of their life, really.

You were a part of the dark hours. The soft ones. You were in the orange rays of sunlight cresting over the city, and the emerald abyss of pitch black night. You were the flickering yellow street light, the grey blue smoke of Simon’s cigarette. The in between. Here in the moment, gone with morning.

For months, you had spent their time home pressed between them, folded beneath them, balanced above them. They made you sing. Made you scream, made you cry.

But most of all, they made sure-

you understood the status quo.

“Say it.” Simon cradled your jaw, thumb and finger full of steel, like he was oblivious to Johnny beneath you, his cock sliding in and out of your body, his fingers dug into the flesh of your hips, your back to his chest, eyes wide and mouth agape, Simon did not flinch.

“I- I’m not-“ a gasp, a groan, words bitten off when Johnny strokes faster, curved deep against the spot that makes you see stars. Sweat builds across your skin, slicking down your spine, and Johnny chases it, tongue sweeping salt clean. You swallow to try again. “I’m not- not yours.”

“Not ours.” Simon’s fingers wrapped around the engorged length of his cock, stroking leisurely, eyes half lidded. “You’re not ours, sweet girl. But we’ll take care of you, when you’re here.”

So, you fell into it. Fell into them. Got comfortable waiting for the phone to ring, going weeks or months at a time- holding your breath. You got into a rhythm, syncopated behind the swell of their voices, their bodies, their souls. Along for the ride. A passenger.

It was fine. You weren’t looking for anything serious anyway. Maybe someone to hang out with here and there, grab a drink, have some fun. All of these things, they gave you. All of these things were provided. Granted, you only went out with them to a dive around the corner, a dark, bottomless place with tar licked floors and worn away wooden bar. The kind with dusty stained glass pendants swinging over pool tables that have seen better days, wrought iron back patio furniture that squeaked when Simon would pull you onto his lap and hook the hem of your panties to the side to stare at your pussy, hungry and desperate glint in his gaze under the silver glow of moonlight. He’d flip up your dress and stroke you with the back of his knuckles, just the down the seam, cooing, telling you how lovely you look, asking how much you missed them.

They never took you out for meals, or dates, or anything like that. They kept you in bed, buried beneath them, wrung out, drained dry. They took and took and took until you had nothing left to give. They’d feed you, make you come, fill you up and put you to sleep. Rinse and repeat.

And it was all… fine.

Even tonight was fine. Johnny had emailed, said they were back in service range and they’d be around soon, if you weren’t busy. Typically, a phone call came later. Late, in small hours, when half the city slept.

So when you fell asleep to nothing, you weren’t surprised. They’d catch up with you.

They always did.

You didn’t hear from them the next day. You forced it away easily, didn’t let the unease nag at you, pasted a smile on your face for your friends when you agreed to meet them for dinner.

No strings. You’re not their girlfriend, you’re not theirs. You’re cool. It’s cool. You’re fine.

Besides, your friend had gotten a reservation at a very nice restaurant in one of those shiny new hotels that just went up.

You shoved the boys from your mind.

You were the cool girl. You were unaffected.

You’re fine.

“So how’s work?”

“Oh, it’s fine. You know, same shit different day.” You roll your eyes, touch light on the thin stem of a wine glass. The red is a shade darker than your nails, and your lips, and it tastes like sweet cherries soaked in acid. Stringent. Sweet. You’re about to reciprocate the question when the bulk of a man catches your eye, handsome width of a shoulder you’d know from a mile away.

Interest in your friend’s conversation evaporates, and your tongue turns tarnished, sticking in the back of your throat like an overgrown thorn.

It’s Simon. Your heart pounds, and you drink in the sight greedily, elated to see him outside of their flat, or in the bar. Thrilled to get a glimpse of him in the real world, in a restaurant, a real, tangible place, in a real, tangible moment.

“I’ll… be right back.” You manage, slipping from the both to the wall, openly gaping across a room full of diners. As he moves, you mirror it, coming closer and closer to a hallway, a lead off down to the bathrooms.

“Simon.” His name slips from your lips without permission, a build up of excitement and anxiety, all twisted into one heap that darts out in front of your intentions, your resolve. Not cool.

You expect him to be surprised, certainly. You expect to see that small spark, the little fire burning behind his irises, expect him sweep the length of your body.

You don’t expect the surprise to be blanketed with the white fog of indifference. The grey slab of a stone wall.

It confuses you. Startles you. And when you take a step-

Johnny turns the corner, an arm slung around the waist of a pretty, thin, blonde.

His lips part, brows knitting together in slow motion. The girl, their date, it seems, is oblivious. She only bats her eyelashes at Simon and then gazes up at Johnny, sweet and hopeful.

You turn cold. Your fingers go frigid, ice cracking through your veins and attacking your heart, slowing your pulse.

The room spins.

And you’re alone in it. Dining room chatter falls away, drowned out by the thrumming between your ears.

You’re alone. Alone, staring at them, trying to piece it all together, trying to breathe, trying to be-

Cool.

“I uh…” You teeter, precarious in your shoes that now feel like a mistake, like your dress is a mistake, being here is a mistake, getting up from the table-

You’re not their girlfriend. You’re not theirs.

“I’m just gonna… go.” You begin to backpedal. Johnny says your name, says it quietly, and takes a step, lurching forward, an animated corpse seeking its last meal.

“Bonnie, ye-“

“I’ll see you around.” You blurt, stepping back out of reach. Johnny’s fist clenches, and he casts a dubious glance towards Simon, who’s tense and focused on you. “See ya.” You croak, and then spin on your heel, trembling all the way out the door and into the cold, crisp air.

Very uncool.

[cera-writes]

First Impressions - A Kurt Wagner x gn!reader one-shot

Summary: You first met Kurt at the Herr Getmann's Traveling Menagerie. The first time you laid eyes on the blue elf, you were smitten. Fast forward to the 90s and you and Kurt meet again under much different circumstances. tags: fluff, coming of age, mutual pining

The Bavarian sun, a pale orb veiled by a dusty scrim, cast a sickly yellow glow upon Herr Getmann's Traveling Menagerie. The peeling paint on the rickety wooden sign promised wonders, but the air itself held a different story. It reeked of damp straw and the acrid tang of manure, a far cry from the anticipated scent of popcorn and sugared treats. Disappointment gnawed at you, a shadow settling over your heart despite your parents' enthusiastic promises.

Your parents had dragged you along on this trip. It was your summer vacation and apparently you were there to also stay with distant relatives. But you knew your parents were in it just for the free stay and a vacation away from the States. Out of all the touristy things your parents could have picked for you to do, they chose a musty, worn down circus. Honestly, you were ready to be back in America with your friends at the arcade or skating rink. This wasn't how you imagined you'd spend your summer at all.

"C'mon darling. The show is about to start!" Your mother ushered you inside the tent as the ticket master tore your ticket stubs in half as your father followed close behind.

Inside, the spectacle was every bit as underwhelming as the exterior. The big cats, once proud denizens of the savanna, paced restlessly in cramped cages, their magnificent coats dull with neglect. Their amber eyes, once fierce and watchful, were now clouded with resignation. The stench of their confinement hung heavy in the air, a stark counterpoint to the vibrant posters plastered precariously on the weathered orange and red canvas walls. You took a seat in the rafters for the best view, if you even could call it that.

Suddenly, the loudspeaker crackled to life, the announcer's voice a tired rasp battling with static. "Presenting," he declared, his voice tinged with a hint of forced excitement, "our opening act of the night, the Mystifying Nightcrawler!" A spotlight pierced the gloom, bathing the center ring in a harsh white light. From the shadows emerged a figure unlike any you had ever seen. Your eyes widened. Was he- was he really a mutant? You had never seen one in person. He was absolutely beautiful.

"It's him..." you mother sneered. Your parents however, held gazes of contempt and disgust towards Nightcrawler, and any other mutant for that matter. You tuned out their nasty whispers and just focused on the boy standing at the platform.

He was clad in a costume that shimmered with an otherworldly sheen, a deep cobalt blue that seemed to drink in the stark light. A mask, sculpted from some unknown material, obscured his face, but a shock of blue black hair, as vibrant as a summer sky after a downpour, peeked out from beneath it. It was a stark contrast to the peeling paint and sun-bleached canvas that surrounded him.

Then, he moved. There was an effortless grace to his every action, as if defying the earth's very pull. He launched himself from a platform hidden in the shadows, his form a blur of blue and black against the harsh white backdrop. He wasn't just swinging; he was dancing, his body twisting and turning with an impossible fluidity. Every leap, every flip spoke volumes of preternatural strength and agility. He was a silent symphony in motion, an enigma wrapped in cobalt and shadow.

But it was more than just his skill that captivated you. There was an aura about him, an undeniable magnetism that drew you in like a moth to a flame. It was a mystery that whispered promises of adventure and a world hidden just beyond the confines of the dusty circus tent. With each breathtaking leap, with every impossible maneuver, a spark ignited within you, a yearning for something more, something extraordinary.

For a fleeting moment, his gaze seemed to find yours through the harsh glare of the spotlight. A jolt of electricity shot through you, a connection forged in that shared glance. Then, with a flourish that echoed the fading magic of the moment, he vanished back into the shadows, leaving behind a trail of shimmering blue and the lingering echo of wonder in your heart.

The rest of the night was a blur. The other acts faded into oblivion, their performances mere afterimages compared to the spectacle you had just witnessed. Your mind replayed the image of the Nightcrawler, his impossible agility, and the enigmatic smile hidden beneath the mask. The program, clutched tightly in your hand, became a talisman against the fading magic, a tangible reminder of the night that had stolen your breath and ignited a latent flame deep within your very core.

As the applause dwindled and the spotlight dimmed, you felt a frantic energy surge through you. You couldn't just let this incredible encounter end. You had to meet the Mystifying Nightcrawler, to thank him for his amazing performance. It totally didn't have anything to do with your newfound crush. Nope.

Despite your parents' apathy towards mutants, their dismissal fueled a rebellious spark. Seeing the way they interacted with the worn-out animals solidified your resolve. This wasn't a place of wonder, but a place where the extraordinary was exploited. But Nightcrawler, he was different. He brought a touch of magic to the dreary spectacle.

"Come on," your mother called, her voice laced with impatience, "Let's get some overpriced cotton candy and get out of here."

You mumbled an excuse, your heart hammering in your chest. Scanning the emptying stands, you spotted him – a flash of blue disappearing behind a faded red curtain. With a last furtive glance at your parents, now deep in conversation with a vendor, you sprinted towards the backstage area.

The worn canvas walls billowed in the evening breeze, and the air thrummed with a low murmur of voices. You navigated the maze of caravans, each one a peeling testament to the circus's nomadic life. Just as you were about to give up, a figure emerged from one of the larger caravans.

It was him. The Nightcrawler. But instead of his vibrant costume, he was clad in worn jeans and a simple white shirt. He held a red rose in his hand, its vibrant color stark against his stark blue fur. His mask was off, revealing kind golden eyes and a mischievous grin.

Your stomach did a nervous flip-flop. This wasn't the enigmatic performer you'd admired from afar. He had to have been around the same age as you. His vulnerability made him even more captivating. You hesitated, unsure of how to approach him.

Sensing your presence, he turned, his yellow eyes widening in surprise. Then, a smile spread across his face, as warm and genuine as the setting sun.

"“Hallo Schöne”," he said, his voice a melodic baritone. "Seems the Mystifying Nightcrawler has a little fan."

You stammered, cheeks burning. "I, uh… I just wanted to thank you. Your performance… it was incredible. Um, you're also the first mutant I've ever seen. Sorry, I'm not from around here. I'm from America." You played with the hem of your shirt, fidgeting nervously around him.

He chuckled, a rich, rumbling sound. "Thank you, frau. You make a kind audience. I hope I did not frighten you. I know I look a bit... ungewöhnlich."

He held out the rose. "Would you care for this?"

You hesitated for a moment, then reached out to take the flower, its soft petals cool against your fingertips. "It's beautiful," you breathed.

His gaze held yours, an unspoken question lingering in his eyes. "So," he said, his voice dropping a touch, "what's a junge Dame like you doing backstage at a traveling circus?"

You inhaled deeply, the scent of hay and diesel fuel filling your lungs. As you spoke, a strange tingling sensation crawled up your arm, making the hairs stand on end. It felt... electric, like a current running just beneath the surface of your skin. You flinched, dropping your gaze from Kurt's captivating golden eyes to the rose in your hand.

"I…" you started, your voice catching in your throat. The tingling intensified, spreading across your body in a wave. Panic surged through you, a primal fear of the unknown. Before you could apologize or explain the sudden tremor, your vision blurred at the edges. The world seemed to distort around you, the vibrant red rose in your hand pulsing with an otherworldly glow.

Kurt's demeanor shifted instantly. His playful smile vanished, replaced by a mask of concern. He reached out, his hand hovering a safe distance from yours. "Are you alright, Freund ?" he asked, his voice laced with worry.

You struggled to speak, your tongue thick and heavy. The strange energy within you crackled, yearning to be released. This wasn't the first time your body reacted this way. You feared the worst. You were starting to believe you were a mutant too. But you could never reveal that to your parents.

They'd disown you in a heartbeat. All those scholarships they made you apply for would never matter if they found out you were different. You knew you needed to get away, to disappear before you lost control and revealed your secret in front of the mysterious Nightcrawler.

"I… I don't feel well," you managed to force out, your voice shaky. Shame burned in your stomach for the abrupt change. "I should get back to my parents."

Kurt's eyes flickered with understanding. He nodded, a hint of sadness in his gaze. "Of course," he said gently. "Let me take you to them."

He moved with his trademark agility, guiding you through the maze of caravans with an ease that left you breathless. You stumbled slightly, your legs shaky under the weight of the unknown power coursing through you. Kurt offered you his arm for support, but before you could reach for it, your parents' voices cut through the air.

"There you are!" your mother exclaimed, her voice laced with annoyance. "We've been looking everywhere for you!"

You turned to see them approaching, their faces etched with concern. When they spotted Kurt hovering beside you, their expressions hardened.

"Don't touch our child, freak!" your father barked, his voice thick with disgust.

Shame washed over you, hot and suffocating. Kurt's hand recoiled as if struck. His shoulders slumped, the joy that had previously emanated from him extinguished.

"I was just helping, Herr," he said, his voice mild yet firm. "They seemed unwell."

Your mother scoffed. "Don't need any help from your kind." She grabbed your arm possessively, dragging you away before you could even look back at Kurt.

"Wait!" you cried, struggling against her grip. But your voice was lost in the bustle of the crowd. You stole a final glance over your shoulder, only to see Kurt standing alone, with one hand rubbing subconsciously over his other right bicep.

His yellow eyes, once filled with warmth, now held a flicker of sadness as they looked off in the distance. He was the first of his kind that you had met and you finally felt like you resonated with him. But it was all too short lived. All you were left of him was the single red rose he'd given you as a memory of your encounter.

With a heavy heart, you were whisked away from the circus, your first encounter with the Mystifying Nightcrawler ending abruptly, leaving a bittersweet aftertaste and a burning question: would you ever see him again?

The 90s were a whirlwind of discovering and finally, somewhat, honing your mutant abilities. Mutants, now looked down upon more than ever, made you even more of an advocate for your kind. You got that scholarship but at the expense of your parents actually disowning you after a fight at the dinner table ended up with your mother's smashed fine China on the floor at the expense of your powers.

For some reason, they'd brought up Nightcrawler again and it sickened you to the point that you'd had enough. When they found out you were just another "freak" that was the last straw and they kicked you out and you never heard from them again. Good riddance you'd said.

The only thing that sucked about them kicking you out was that you had to quickly find a job and a place to live or you'd end up just another homeless mutant on the streets. All that trust fund money had long gone down the drain when they cut you off completely.

You were residing in New York now. You found a dingy little apartment to live in while you finished up your degree in Advanced Physics. You were finally set to graduate this month and after that, who knows.

You wanted to find a job and finally move out of the crappy little apartment you'd called home for a few years now. At least your neighbor next door, Peter Parker, was usually quiet and it gave you room to study without having to complain with a knock at his door, even if he did come and go at odd times of the night.

One particular day, you were sitting at your favorite little corner coffee shop, studying for your final exam, when all hell broke loose on the street. A piece of large shrapnel flew through the glass of the shop, eliciting screams and terrified shouts from pedestrians as people flew to take cover.

You dove for cover under the overturned coffee table, your heart a frantic drum against your ribs. The tremor that had rattled the windows had morphed into a full-blown city-rattling rampage. But it wasn't an earthquake. The tremors moved, a monstrous crimson figure stomping through the city streets, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake.

Juggernaut. You recognized him from news reports – a mutant powerhouse the X-Men struggled to contain. And here he was, rampaging through your city like a bull in a china shop.

Panic threatened to consume you, but amidst the chaos, a voice in your head rose above the fear. You were no longer the scared kid, afraid of their powers, who watched Nightcrawler perform at the circus.

If this new era taught you anything, it was discovering your mutant abilities, the escalating anti-mutant sentiment, and the brutal fight with your parents that ended with disownment and shattered family heirlooms. The memory of them calling you a "freak" like Nightcrawler still stung, but it also ignited a fire within you. You wouldn't be another victim.

Squinting past the overturned table, you saw the X-Men, their familiar blue and gold uniforms standing resolute against the crimson giant. And there he was, Nightcrawler – older, even more handsome than you'd remembered, but with the same twinkle in his eyes. He fought with a desperate grace, teleporting in and out, trying to flank Juggernaut. But the red behemoth seemed unstoppable.

It was now or never. Taking a deep breath, you channeled the theoretical knowledge from years of studying advanced physics. The raw energy of the city pulsed around you, a live wire waiting to be tapped into. It felt almost like an extension of yourself, hungry for release. You stood, running from your sense of security, and joined the chaos outside.

With a surge of will, you unleashed it. A concentrated beam of pure energy, hotter than a thousand suns, erupted from your outstretched palms. It slammed into Juggernaut's side, the red giant staggering with a surprised grunt. The X-Men seized their chance, a flurry of attacks momentarily halting the crimson tide. Cyclops blasted an optic beam, Storm unleashed a swirling vortex of wind, and Wolverine harried Juggernaut with his adamantium claws.

Kurt, finally free from the relentless onslaught, materialized beside you, his yellow familiar eyes widening in disbelief. It was as if he'd seen a ghost. "It's you," he rasped, his voice barely audible over the din of the battle.

You offered a small smile, a mixture of exhilaration and exhaustion. "Helping hand, remember?" Your voice was hoarse, but it held a newfound strength. With another surge of energy, you deflected a stray blow from Juggernaut, allowing Storm to unleash another torrent of wind.

The X-Men, rejuvenated by your unexpected intervention, pressed their attack. Professor Xavier's telepathic voice boomed, urging Juggernaut to stand down. The fight raged on, but your power tip, the concentrated beam of pure energy, proved to be the turning point. Juggernaut, overwhelmed by the combined forces of the X-Men and your unique ability, faltered. His helmet had crumbled, rendering him vulnerable.

Finally, with a roar of frustration, Juggernaut surrendered, taken away by the NYPD as they forced his hefty frame into the back of a mutant prisoner containment vehicle. Exhausted but victorious, the X-Men regrouped. Kurt materialized beside you once more, his gaze still filled with awe and disbelief. "Freund," he repeated, his voice thick with emotion. "Is it really you?"

You met his gaze, no longer the scared kid from the dusty circus tent. The years of hardship and self-discovery had forged you into a new person. With a defiant smile, you nodded, ready to tell your story and finally find your place amongst the X-Men.

You wanted more than anything to catch up with the infamous Nightcrawler. But Professor Xavier was making his way over to you, clearly wanting a word. The look on his face was nothing short of astonishment. Kurt, sensing this, gave you a reassuring nod as he turned to join the others once more.

"Are you alright, young one?" he inquired, his voice warm and calming.

You nodded, finding your voice a little hoarse. "Yes, Professor. Just a bit… surprised, I guess." You couldn't believe you were talking to the Professor X.

"Surprised?" he echoed, raising an eyebrow. "I imagine so. But you were quite… extraordinary out there."

The compliment brought a shy smile to your face. You explained how you'd been studying advanced physics, how the energy in the city resonated with you, and how you'd finally been able to control it. You confessed your situation too, about the fight with your parents and being disowned. Shame burned in your stomach, but you held Professor Xavier's gaze.

"It seems you have much to learn, young one," he said, his voice filled with understanding. "But you also have much to teach. We've been looking for someone to help our young mutants hone their abilities, someone who understands the science behind them." His eyes twinkled. "Would you be interested in a position at the X-Mansion, once you graduate of course?"

A wave of emotions washed over you – relief, hope, and a flicker of something more. The X-Mansion. A place where you could belong, where you could use your abilities without fear. You looked at Kurt, who stood a few feet away, a wide grin plastered on his face. His saffron eyes held a spark of excitement, mirroring your own.

"I… I'd be honored sir," you stammered, a genuine smile blooming on your face.

Professor Xavier chuckled. "Excellent. Now, how about we get you cleaned up and settled in? The X-Mansion can be your home. In the meantime, we can work on your new alias." He chuckled lightly.

The mansion, a sprawling structure that seemed to rise organically from the wooded landscape, took your breath away. It was a world away from your cramped apartment, a sanctuary for those who were different. You settled in quickly, the warmth of the X-Men a stark contrast to the cold rejection you'd faced at home.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the lake behind the mansion in hues of orange and pink, you found yourself drawn to its peaceful serenity. As you sat on the edge of the dock, a sudden bamf! sound reverberated next to you as a scent of brimstone hung in the air. It was Nightcrawler.

Suddenly, you felt very conscious and shy all over gain. It was really him. There was no mistaking that sheen of blue fur that lined his skin.

"Quite the entrance you made today," he said, a playful glint in his eyes.

You laughed, a nervous flutter in your chest. "I figured you could use some help."

Silence settled between you, punctuated only by the gentle lapping of the water. You took a deep breath, finally ready to share your story.

"Remember what you said at the circus? About me being a kind audience?"

Kurt nodded, a flicker of curiosity crossing his features.

"Well," you continued, your voice dropping to a whisper, "I wasn't just kind. I was… smitten. You were the first mutant I ever saw, and it was like watching magic. The thought that for one second, I wasn't alone. That there was another similar to me."

You explained how your parents' reaction had fueled your fear, how you'd kept the rose all these years. You confessed how they'd called you a "freak" just like you'd mentioned, and how you'd ended up alone after they disowned you.

Kurt listened intently, his expression a mix of sympathy and something else you couldn't quite decipher. When you finished, he reached out, taking your hand gently in his. His blue fur felt surprisingly warm against your skin.

"My Freund," he said, his voice soft yet firm, "You are no freak. You are extraordinary. And your parents… well, they were wrong. Trust me, I've lived all my life thinking I was an abomination."

You felt a twist of pain at his words. He was so kind and sweet. Even just so as the night when you'd met him the first time back at that old, sketchy Bavarian circus.

He squeezed your hand, and a spark shot through you. You looked into his eyes, seeing a reflection of your own feelings there.

"The truth is," Kurt confessed, a hint of a blush creeping up his neck, "you've never left my mind either. There was something about you that day, a spark I couldn't ignore."

Your heart was hammering inside your chest. The thought of him feeling the same way all those years sent a warmth throughout your body. The thought that you'd somehow made an impression on him sent butterflies wildly dancing in your stomach.

The truth hung heavy in the air, a silent confession echoed in Kurt's blushing cheeks and your own hammering heart. The twilight sky, ablaze in fiery hues, seemed to witness the unspoken yearning that crackled between you.

His touch, a gentle pressure on your hand, sent a jolt of electricity through your body. You leaned in, drawn by a force stronger than gravity. The kiss, when it came, was a revelation – tentative at first, then deepening with a passion that mirrored the vibrant tapestry of the setting sun.

His lips were warm and surprisingly soft against yours, the sweet taste of berries lingering on his tongue. Your hand reached up, tracing the contours of his face, the velvety texture of his blue fur sending shivers down your spine. He reciprocated, his touch delicate yet firm, as if afraid to break the spell.

The kiss deepened, a silent conversation flowing through the press of your lips. He tasted of adventure, of something innocent but also skilled in the ways of romance. A gentle breeze rustled the nearby leaves, momentarily pulling you apart.

"It's Kurt... my name is Kurt Wagner," he'd finally told you his name.

You gazed into Kurt's eyes, a newfound understanding blooming there. The dam holding back your emotions seemed to break.

"Kurt," you whispered, your voice thick with a desire you could no longer deny.

He responded with a low rumble in his chest, his blue fur darkening with a blush. Without a word, he scooped you up in his arms, teleporting you both to a deserted corner of the mansion's rooftop.

The cool night air whipped around you, carrying with it the distant sound of laughter and music from the common room. The city lights twinkled in the distance, a glittering backdrop for the nascent intimacy unfolding between you.

His touch became bolder, exploring the exposed skin of your arms, sending shivers down your spine. Your fingers trailed down his back, tracing the ridges of his spine and the surprising strength hidden beneath his lithe frame. Clothes became an unwelcome barrier, discarded in a tangle of limbs and whispered promises.

The moonlight, a silent witness to your blossoming love, bathed your entwined forms in an ethereal glow. Passion flared like wildfire, fueled by the years of unspoken attraction and the shared trauma that had bound you together.

The night unfolded in a symphony of whispered endearments and stolen breaths. With each touch, each lingering kiss, the anxieties of your past faded, replaced by the promise of a future brighter than the city lights on the horizon. You'd found each other, and this time nothing would take Kurt away from you.

[aiartwerk]

Carpenter A confident female carpenter working on wood in a workshop. With her curly hair tied back, safety glasses, and tools in hand, she is fully focused on her craft. Wood shavings and sparks surround her as she smoothly planes a piece of wood. Her robust physique adds to the image’s emphasis on empowerment and craftsmanship.

Construction Worker This image portrays a construction worker standing proudly on a construction site, donning a hard hat and tool belt. Her dusty outfit and powerful stance amidst cranes and scaffolding show her strength and dedication to the job, surrounded by a backdrop of a large industrial site under construction.

Crane Operator A woman sits inside a crane cabin, wearing a hard hat and work gloves, operating heavy machinery with intense focus. The interior of the cabin is filled with dials and switches, capturing the mechanical aspect of her job. The background is a vast construction site, highlighting the scale of her work.

Race Car Driver A striking woman in a yellow racing suit stands confidently in front of a Formula 1 race car. Her stance is powerful, with arms akimbo, as she commands attention amidst the high-energy backdrop of a race track. Her sleek outfit and the car’s detailed design contribute to the fast-paced energy of the scene.

Electrician This image showcases an African-American woman working as an electrician, kneeling down amidst a tangle of wires and cables. She holds a tool in her hand while sparks fly around her. Her expression is calm and composed as she works with precision in a high-stress environment.

Firefighter A fierce female firefighter stands in front of a blazing fire, exuding strength and bravery. Her orange firefighter suit is charred, and her face is determined as she readies herself for action. The flames in the background highlight the danger and intensity of her profession.

Pilot A stylish and commanding woman stands in front of a large airplane, dressed in a crisp pilot’s uniform. Her tailored black jacket and cap emphasize her authority and professionalism. The jet behind her and the blue skies reflect her role as a leader in aviation.

Lumberjill A woman in plaid and work jeans is in the midst of chopping logs in a forest clearing. Her strong arms grip an ax as she focuses on the task at hand. The sunlight filtering through the trees adds warmth to the image, emphasizing her connection to the land and hard work.

Mechanic In a garage setting, a female mechanic works on a car, her hands covered in grease. Her denim overalls cling to her toned frame as she holds a tool, surrounded by equipment and automotive parts. Her intense expression shows focus, dedication, and passion for her trade.

Soldier A soldier stands at attention amidst a battlefield, her body armored and weapon at her side. Her camo fatigues blend into the war-torn environment, while her fierce, unyielding gaze suggests experience and readiness for the challenges ahead.

Plumber A woman kneels beside a kitchen sink, tools in hand, as she works on the plumbing. Her determined expression and sturdy overalls emphasize her hands-on approach to fixing things. The homey kitchen setting contrasts with her industrial tools, blending domestic and technical elements.

Power Line Worker High above the ground, a woman works on power lines, equipped with a tool belt and safety gear. She balances on a wooden beam, her face focused as she repairs wiring. The towering power poles and bright sky in the background add scale and drama to the scene.

Spaceship Pilot Inside a futuristic spaceship, a young woman pilots the craft, surrounded by high-tech controls. Her white and black spacesuit glows in the colorful lights of the console, and the cosmos stretches out beyond the window. The vastness of space outside complements her focused expression as she navigates.

Submariner In the depths of the ocean, a woman operates the controls of a high-tech submarine. The control room is dimly lit with screens glowing, showing the sea life outside. Sharks swim past the large windows, creating a mysterious and adventurous atmosphere as she guides the vessel.

Welder A woman stands confidently in front of a welding torch, sparks flying around her. Her protective gloves and helmet highlight the dangers of her job, but her composed expression suggests mastery of her craft. The industrial setting around her adds a sense of strength and power to the scene.

Each image is crafted with ultra-realistic detail, featuring vivid 3D rendering and high-resolution 4K quality. The colors are bold and striking, with detailed lighting that brings out the textures in their environments, outfits, and the characters themselves. Each woman is depicted with strength and beauty, emphasizing her role in her respective profession while challenging traditional gender stereotypes.

These characters not only represent women of power but also pay homage to diversity by showcasing African American women in impactful, aspirational roles.

[mythrilpencil]

Stellar Acclimation—Prologue

The sun barely starts to rise over the desert hills as Semyon steps outside. Only its earliest rays filter through the dusty sky, filling the air with a gentle purple pre-dawn haze.

Semyon dusts the mauve fur on his hands as he meanders towards the hill that marks the westward boundary of town. He never can get all of the sand out of his messy fur. Drives him nuts. Despite a sandstorm lasting all night, the only remnant of it now is a chilled, faint breeze that stirs his fur and the leaves of the rainbow palms high above. Even the massive wall of dust is no longer visible past the hill.

Large squares of blue fabric, hung like curtains and tent walls, shield the entrances of most of the houses and the entrance of Semyon’s mentor’s workshop. His mentor, an old Glitch named Bronzemarch, needed a few fresh bottles of the healing water that naturally pools under the workshop and had thus tasked Semyon to fetch them like every morning. The shimmering turquoise liquid fills the workshop—which is little more than a few work tables between crates on a rickety wooden platform long ago fitted into the side of the natural cave in the hill—with a soothing, glittering light. It’s one of Semyon’s favorite places in town.

He hums a made-up tune to himself as he uncorks each bottle he was assigned and dips it into the cool water. His rumble echoes in the silence; the whistle of the breeze through the fabric overhangs his accompaniment. But then a sudden burst of magenta light followed by an orange glow flickers through the westward exit of the workshop cave. He cuts himself off mid-phrase and mid-dip. What in the world?

Curiosity possesses him, and he sets aside his two filled bottles and last half-filled one before investigating. What’s that orange glow? A visitor warping down, perhaps? They don’t get many of those unless the merchant Riku invites someone for a business deal. Maybe someone got lost? …But a magenta warp? Avian-made teleporters create a red warp; Hylotl-made teleporters create a blue one. But what kind of technology makes a magenta one?

Semyon isn’t quite sure what he expects when he pushes aside the thick, limp fabric shielding the west exit of the cave from the outside desert. But he certainly doesn’t expect to see what he sees: a burst of flickering orange gas—no, plasma—just behind the nearby ruined sandstone pillars. Alarmed, Semyon approaches the pillars.

And finds a humanoid being, wearing a horribly tattered short-sleeved black shirt and pants; with their whole left arm, shoulder, and half their upper back gone and leaking that plasma. They’re face-first in the sand and fading fast. Literally.

“Bronzemarch!” Semyon yells as he rushes back through the workshop into town. “Bronzemarch! Come quick!”

Bronzemarch bursts out of the front door of his small shack, ducking past the blue drape and nearly colliding with the wicker-and-sandstone waist-high wall that delineates the little patio in front of the door. “Alarmed. Semyon! What’s wrong?” he demands, still buttoning up an old black tunic over his steel chassis.

“Someone’s just outside your workshop; I don’t even know what they are but they’re hurt real bad!” Semyon summarizes between huffs, pointing the way.

“Serious. Show me.”

Quickly Semyon leads his mentor through the workshop cave to where the orange plasma-person is still laying in the sand by the pillars.

Bronzemarch quickens his pace to pass Semyon and approach the person while muttering, “Bewildered. A Novakid?”

While Bronzemarch kneels next to the person, opposite their leaking plasma, Semyon blinks. “A what?”

“Focused. A being made of plasma like a miniature star. They are—” Suddenly Bronzemarch holds up a hand to stop Semyon before he can approach, his mechanical tone sharpening. “Stern. Semyon, don’t get close. This plasma is dangerous to organics.”

“Then what do I do?” 

“Commanding. Give me your jacket, then go fetch my nanowrap from the cupboard. Quickly!”

Semyon nods hurriedly, shrugging off his muted orange jacket, tossing it to his mentor, and turning around to dash back through the workshop almost in the same motion.

By the time he returns a minute later with a thinning roll of nanoweave bandaging, Bronzemarch had wrapped the person’s—Novakid’s—wounded side with Semyon’s now-inside-out jacket, rolled them to their back, and is now starting to tie the sleeves together to secure it. Bronzemarch looks up sharply as Semyon scampers over, his screen-like eyes wide for a blink before looking back down at the Novakid. He holds a hand out, and Semyon automatically tosses the nanoweave over.

Semyon shifts his weight between his feet, studying his mentor’s work while waiting to be told what to do next. Bronzemarch wraps lengths of the luminescent nanoweave bandaging around the ends of Semyon’s jacket to seal the large impromptu patch and keep the Novakid from leaking any more of their thinning plasma. But by now their plasma is so thin Semyon can almost see through their dim head to Bronzemarch’s knee propping it up. Even their uneven bob of plasma “hair” is mostly limp aside from the odd wisp here and there. He’s partially surprised the metal-looking symbol on their face doesn’t make their...face...cave in. They don’t have anything in the way of facial features at all past that symbol—which is in the shape of a triangle with short lengths extending out of its vertices. Or it would be, aside from the white-hot fractures that almost separate the bottom left vertex from the rest of the symbol.

Semyon can’t help but feel like the Novakid is somehow staring at him without eyes. “Are they...conscious?” he eventually musters the courage to ask.

Bronzemarch shakes his head as he finishes wrapping the bottom end of Semyon’s jacket around the Novakid and tucks the remaining nanoweave into his trouser pocket. “Grave. No. She’s vented a lot of plasma and received serious damage to her brand somehow.” Gently he slips his arms under the Novakid and lifts them—her, apparently—up as if she hardly weighs anything at all. Which she probably doesn’t. Then he nods back towards town. “Directing. We need to stabilize her as best we can. Go get the bed ready for her, then talk to Riku and see if he has any access to raw metal suppliers. We may need some.”

“Got it.”

~~~~~

And thus it begins! Stellar Acclimation is going to be the first “episode”—as I like to call it—of I Was The Sun!

Next Chapter>>

[bippityboppity69]

Leofric/Gender neutral reader

I was struck with inspiration! (No, I'm not procrastinating on my other stories.) I will say this is very much inspired by Beauty and the Beast with my own twists of course. This gender neutral reader shall have no name, any descriptions of them will be very vague, and I will be using they/them. This is going to be a multiple part story. I will try to put any warnings above the read more so that you know what is going on. Anyway, please enjoy~

(Mentions of intense fear)

“They had to do this.”

That thought motivated them forward. Through the dark forest, along the dusty path. Lantern clutched tight in their hands as they recounted what the old woman, Baba Yaga had said.

“Go to the forest with no light. Inside is a manor with the information you seek. But be warned child, a monster rests inside.”

Spotting the iron gate, a chill ran down their spine. Straightening back their shoulders as they marched forward. Every instinct screamed for them to turn back and run, but…

 The image of Estrilda laying in bed, twisted marks across her skin as she writhed in pain. Of Thane desperately seeking out doctors and priests. Of hearing him sob as they told him there was nothing they could do. Of Baden, holding her hand as he whispered to please hold on.

“Do it for Estrilda.” Their mind whispered. “For Thane. For Baden. So no one else has to suffer.”

Steeling themselves, they crossed through the open gate. Gravel crunching underfoot as they followed the path up to the manor. The garden was perfectly manicured, the air filled with the scent of roses and honeysuckle.

There was an orange glow coming from the windows. Lights. Someone or something was home. They didn’t know if that should terrify them or not. Muttering under their breath as they got closer.

“For Estrilda. For Thane. For Baden.”

They repeated that over and over. Reaching the front door, shaking hands reached for the iron knocker. Raising it up before letting it fall.

*Thud*  *Thud*

Silence.

It was as if every sound in the forest stopped. A horrible deafening silence that made their ears ring. Eyes pinned to the door, heart pounding in their chest. Swallowing the lump in their throat as they reached for the knocker again.

Freezing in place as the door creaked open. Darkness, pitch black darkness that devoured, rested inside. Drawing in a deep breath as they stepped toward the inside.

They could do this.

Entering inside, surprised at how… warm it was. As if this manor was heated. Carpet softened their footsteps as they walked along the hallway. Portraits lined the walls, all of them containing beautiful illustrations. Some were landscapes, others were of people or animals. One caught their attention.

A middle aged man with salt and pepper hair was staring ahead. He was dressed in an elegant purple suit with a cane in his hands. The top seemed to made of obsidian in the shape of a canine head.

They shivered as they saw the man’s eyes. Both were a stunning shade of ice blue, yet it almost seemed…

Like he was staring right at them.

Pulling themselves away from the hypnotic gaze, continuing down the hallway. At the end was a giant set of double doors. Their destination, the library.

“This Hypogean holds countless centuries of knowledge. If there is any information on how to help your friend, it is inside that library.” Baba Yaga’s voice rang in their ears. “But be warned, there is a price to pay and he will set the terms. Do not bargain with him. Do not barter or steal or lie. You must agree to whatever he wants. Otherwise, the manor shall turn to dust and you will be hunted till your dying day… if you’re lucky.”

Trying to steady their nerves. Reaching for the door, stopping as it swung open. A stunned gasp left them, eyes going wide at the library. There were dozens, no hundreds of shelves of books!

Stepping inside, shocked as they turned around. Taking in everything they could. Hundreds and hundreds of books, astrology equipment, an alchemist kit! For a brief moment, they lost their fear. Instead they were excited.

“There’s so many books! Not even the temple has this many!” They thought gleefully. Running their hand along a few tomes, tracing golden letters. Until a single thought interrupted them, “I’m here…but where is the Hypogean?”

“What is this?”

A wave of paralyzing fear overcoming them. Heart pounding as their feet seemed glued to the floor. Arm shaking, no their whole body was shaking. Panic and dread mixed together, both screaming in their mind.

Catching movement, eyes going wide as something reached over them. A massive dark purple hand, black claws instead of nails. Delicately grabbing a book, before retreating. Cold breath ruffled their hair as something leaned over them.

“A mortal has come into my home?” A voice of pure fear and dread asked. “It has been many years since someone has visited me.”

They couldn’t move. Breath coming out in short raspy gasps. Heart pounding so fast that their body was going numb. Their mind a tangled mess of panic.

“Why have you come here?”

“M-my friends.” They whispered, voice barely audible. “There is a sickness spreading through. The doctors and priests can do nothing. I heard…” The warning from Baba Yaga ran through their head. “I went to see a woman, her name is Baba Yaga. She said to come here and I could find what I seek.”

“You do not lie.” A claw brushed their cheek. “How…interesting. Most mortals would lie, yet you speak the truth.”

“Lying breeds mistrust.” The words seemed to fall from their mouth. “I wish for information and I know there is a price to pay.”

There was silence. For one, two minutes. They kept their gaze on the shelf. Did they mess up? Were they going to die here? Tears pricked at their eyes. They never even got to say goodbye to everyone…

“It has been so long since I’ve had visitors.” The Hypogean sighed. “I will let you use my library.”

Hope bloomed in their chest. Panic dying down a bit. They could use the library! The mental celebration stopped as the Hypogean grabbed their shoulder. A tremble running through them.

“However, you must stay here.” They had to stay? “Stay in this manor as you research. I have been lacking proper company for so long…”

“Do not barter. You must agree to any terms.”

"...I accept."

[s-harpermarcel]

Untitled

Blue, green, yellow, orange, red.

Funny how fluorescent lights made every color neon and dull simultaneously. Flashy advertisements, bright colors, bold fonts screaming look, buy, buy, buy, until it all blended in with the humming of the lights and the fridges. Or maybe Amos had just been staring blankly at the shelves for too long. It was always a sign that he needed to shut up and go to bed when he started waxing poetic like he was in middle school again.

Blue, yellow, orange.

He had worked at this gas station outside of town on the side of this middle-of-nowhere highway for most of high school now, and though he just switched over to the night shift, he found that the graveyard wasn’t any different from the day. It was preferable, honestly. His boss, an annoyingly peppy 50-year-old man who peaked in high school and was still chasing his varsity football glory days, didn't put up a fuss about rescheduling. In fact, he barely let Amos finish talking before enthusiastically agreeing. His boss definitely viewed it as “protecting the sad disabled Jewish girl from the big mean jocks that tried to jump her that past July,” instead of actually listening to anything that came out of Amos’ mouth, but frankly he was past the point of caring enough to be annoyed. His boss never came in this late, and neither did anyone else, so it was a win in his book.

Yellow, red.

Even when the animal mutilations turned into serial murders in the tiny town of Whitewater, working graveyard was a breeze. Technically he wasn’t supposed to be working this late, especially not alone, but Buddy System be damned! Amos had propane and shitty off-brand chips to sell! Besides, it had been a whole two months since the murders began, and Amos hadn’t so much as caught a glimpse of the so-called “Whitewater Ripper.” So, he closed up the store, shut off the lights, locked the door, and hopped on his bike to ride back to his house on the edge of town without a second thought.

Black, blue, purple, green.

He rode his bike along the highway past the soybean fields, completely barren save for him. There were no streetlights, only the dim light of the stars and half-moon, and the light on his bike. His headphones were busted, so there was no sound except for the wheels against the pavement. Not even the crickets sang. 

Black, blue, purple, yellow.

Amos was crossing the bridge over the Whitewater River into town when a light caught his eye from beneath the bridge. Assuming it was freshmen smoking under the bridge, he barely turned his head before dismissing it. He was halfway across the bridge when the rock struck his front wheel, causing him to lose his balance and fall. Whispering curses, Amos sat up and looked around, finding not a rock, but a whole chunk of concrete lodged in the spokes. Okay, what the fuck. This wasn’t him being clumsy; some asshole definitely threw that at him on purpose. He stood and turned on his phone’s flashlight and walked to the railing. “Hey man, what’s your fucking problem?” He called out, leaning over the railing.

Blue, yellow.

He barely registered that something gripped his ankle before it yanked, sending him crashing onto the pavement, dropping his phone and hitting his head. He only had time to gasp before it pulled him off of the bridge and into the shallow water below. 

Yellow.

Amos coughed and sputtered, splashing and stumbling to his feet, blinking through the throbbing in his skull and the sudden yellow light. Then, he saw it. A woman a few inches taller than him, completely naked, dusty white skin clinging to her bones and wet greasy yellow hair tied in a tangled ponytail. She didn’t hold a light, she was the light, her entire skeleton glowing neon yellow through her skin as she stood there, legs bent and crooked like she didn’t know to stand. She stared at him and she smiled, a big, toothy grin illuminating her face, corners of her too-large mouth pinned to her ears. She began to laugh, and Amos ran.

Yellow, yellow, yellow.

Amos stumbled through the ankle-high water, letting out a cry of panic as he stepped off the concrete platform, the water suddenly coming up to his knees. He made for the bank, hoping, praying that if he made it back to the road, this thing wouldn’t follow him into town. She laughed, louder. A hand seized the back of his hair.

Red, blue.

He was shoved down into the water, splitting his forehead open on the rocks.

Red.

He pushed himself back up, gasping for air.

Red, red, red.

It bashed his head into the rock, over, and over, and over.

Red, red, red.

His eye caught a jagged corner of a rock. He screamed, only to be muffled by the water as he was shoved back under.

Red, red, red.

This was how he was going to die.

Black.

He remembered when the angel first fell into his backyard, the dazzling kaleidoscope it left as it streaked across the sky and plummeted down, down into the earth.

Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple.

Its body was alabaster white, limbs scattered across the lawn, the charred outline of wings burnt into the grass and glowing.

Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple.

He remembered watching as it opened its eyes, all of them, streaked diagonally across its body, glowing that same neon yellow. He remembered watching it string itself back together, like a ball-jointed doll with invisible joints, air between body between arm between elbow between hand.

Yellow.

It wasn’t the same yellow. The angel was good. The angel was kind. The angel was strange, and frightening, but not like this. The angel ate the cicadas in the yard, not the bone marrow from his body.

Red.

Dear G-d, this was how he was going to die. They were going to find him on the bank, ripped open and discarded like a candy wrapper.

Black.

Amos didn’t feel the Whitewater Ripper tear his flesh. Instead, he felt the cushion of the chair, the leather of the upholstery. He didn’t smell the blood, only tobacco.

Black, brown, grey.

He opened his eye to find himself in what looked like a 1920’s jazz lounge. What an odd way for his life to flash before his eyes. He had seen the inside of the town bar before, but it didn’t look like this.

Black, white.

“What a nasty little thing. Sorry about your eye, by the way. Not much I could really do about that.” A voice, low and smooth, came from his left. In another armchair sat a tall, handsome man with smooth black skin like obsidian and piercing white pupils. He was dressed in a simple black suit, and his locs were braided down his back. “You look tense. Go ahead and make yourself comfortable, you’ll be here for a minute. Want something to drink?” He held out his hand, and a glass of dark liquor materialized in it.

“G-d?” Amos finally stuttered out.

The man laughed. “No, but I understand your confusion.” The whiskey glass disappeared as he stretched out his hand. “You can call me Don.”

Hesitantly, Amos shook his hand. “I’m Amos.”

“I know. Good choice for a name, it suits you.”

“…Am I dead?”

“For now.”

Amos fell silent.

Black, brown, white, grey.

Don took a drag of his cigar, and quietly sang along to the jazz playing from an unseen gramophone.

“Where am I?” Amos asked.

“Limbo,” Don said. “Did a little bit of redecorating before you arrived, though. Thought my current decor would be a little overwhelming for you, so I downsized back to something a little more comfortable.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’d love to explain, but there isn’t enough time left. Maybe next time.”

“What?”

White.

Amos woke up in a bed, staring up at white ceiling tiles and cringing in the sudden light. Something was beeping, and he opened his mouth to ask what it was, but all that came out was a sputtering cough that made his chest ache and his head pound. Suddenly there were voices shouting for him, and two more soft-spoken voices chiming in.

Red, blue.

His sister’s head popped into view, eyes rimmed with red and still in her rumpled pajamas. She was talking, but Amos wasn’t listening. A latex-gloved hand on her shoulder gently pulled her away to give him room to breathe.

Yellow, green.

His head rolled to the side, and he saw the angel sitting in a chair beside the hospital bed wearing one of his mom’s sweaters. He stared into its yellow eyes, and it stared back, knowingly.

Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple.

His three friends flooded into the room, all still in their pajamas, crying and talking over one another. His friend’s mother and a man in blue followed behind, notepad and pen poised for questioning. Amos closed his eyes. All he knew was that it was time to quit his job.

[bodyshopindia]

How to Find Perfect Lipstick Shade For Your Skin Tone?

Let's face it, choosing lipstick can feel like a gamble. You see a stunning shade online, only to discover it washes you out under the drugstore lights. Sound familiar? Let's unlock the secret to a shade that makes your lips pop and complements your beauty:

It is All About the Undertone!

Skin tone alone isn't enough. The game changer is your undertone, the subtle, cool, warm, or neutral hue beneath your surface skin. Here's how to get the right tone:

Cool Undertone

If your veins appear bluish or purplish, you are cool toned! Rock blues, pinks, berries, and purples that make your skin glow.

Warm Undertone

Do your veins lean green? Welcome to the warm side! Coral, orange, peach, and terracotta hues are your best friends.

Neutral Undertone

Can't decide? You are lucky! You can rock both cool and warm tones, experimenting with a wider range.

Shade Match

Now you have a better understanding of undertones and how they can guide your lipstick choices, you can find your perfect lipstick color. Let's dive into specific shades based on undertone:

Cool Tons

Nudes

Mauves, dusty pinks, and soft roses will enhance your natural lip color without washing you out.

Pinks

Try out baby pinks, fuchsias, and cool toned berries for a pop of color.

Reds

Blue based reds and wines add drama. Avoid orange reds.

Bolds

Experiment with deep plums, purples, and even black for a statement lip.

Warm Goddesses

Nudes

Peachy nudes, golden beiges, and caramel hues give you a warm glow.

Pinks

Coral, melon, and terracotta pinks add a touch of vibrancy.

Reds

Orange reds, brick reds, and fiery reds are power shades.

Bolds

Go bold with bronzes, burnt oranges, and terracotta tones.

Neutral Beauties

With a neutral undertone, you have the best of both worlds, allowing you to explore a spectrum of cool and warm tones. You have the freedom to explore cool and warm tones! Experiment with different shades to find your favorites. Here are some general tips:

Lighter Skin Tones

Go for sheerer finishes and avoid overly dark lipstick colors.

Medium Skin Tones

You can rock a wider range of finishes and intensities.

Deeper Skin Tones

Bold, creamy finishes and rich colors flatter you most.

Beyond the Basics

Remember, these are just the options. Play around, have fun, and don't be afraid to break the rules! Here are some extra tips to keep in mind while choosing lip shades:

Test on your lips, not your hand

The skin on your lips is different. A swatch on your wrist won't tell the whole story.

Consider the occasion

A bold red might be perfect for a night out, while a soft nude is ideal for work.

Ask for recommendations

Makeup artists and beauty consultants can be invaluable resources.

With a little understanding of your undertone and experimentation, you will be rocking shades that make you feel confident and beautiful. So, grab your favorite lipstick colors, unleash your inner makeup artist, and find your perfect match!

Check Out The Body Shop Lipstick Collection!

Finding the perfect lipstick shade for your skin tone is all about understanding your undertone and experimenting with different shades. Have a look at The Body Shop's range of lipsticks. From rich berry hues to soft nude tones, its cruelty free lipsticks are formulated to deliver intense color payoff and long lasting wear, while nourishing your lips with natural ingredients.

Enhance your natural beauty and let your lips do the talking with The Body Shop Lipstick. Visit its website to find your perfect lip shade today. 

[kiwi245]

PHOENIX BACKSTORY THING. WARNING. VERY LONG. AND OLD.

Owl watched the copper dragonet from a distance. The unfamiliar dragon was small, covered in shimmering copper feathers Owl had never seen before. She was sitting and looking into a small forest stream, her wings drooping. She didn’t look like much of a threat.

Owl approached, making sure to keep away from piles of leaves and large branches. She stopped a safe distance away before sitting on her haunches and clearing her throat. The copper dragonet’s head whipped up and she yelped, almost toppling over into the stream. Was it just Owl or did she… glow?

“Hey,” Owl said, curling her tail in to try to look small and non threatening.

“H-hi,” the copper dragon squeaked, spreading her wings and cowering away from Owl.

“What are you doing here?” Owl asked gently. The small dragonet seemed ready to bolt. She turned wide, blue eyes on Owl. “I was- I was just going for a walk!” she said, picking at a root under her talons. Owl narrowed her eyes. “What’s your name?” she asked suspiciously. The copper dragonet didn’t meet her eyes.

“P-phoenix,” she whispered.

“Very pretty name.” mused Owl. Phoenix blushed, and it seemed that a wave of heat wafted off of her. “Would you mind coming back with me for dinner?” Owl asked, holding out a talon. The dragonet seemed hesitant, she eventually nodded

Owl leapt into the blue sky, looking back to make sure the younger dragonet was following. She saw her winging along behind, almost clinging to Owl’s tail. Owl noticed that she avoided touching the tree branches and fallen leaves. I wonder why. She could see her small camp setup in the distance. What she didn’t see was the dragon below.

A torpedo of black scales shot up from below the trees, tackling Owl out of the air. She gave a cry of alarm before twisting free and whirling to face her attacker. By the time she had turned, her enemy was already barreling towards her. Before Owl could react, a blur of copper feathers collided with the black dragon. There was a yell of surprise as they went crashing down to the

floor and Owl dove after them. What she saw made her stop in her tracks.

Phoenix had the black dragon pinned, and her feathers were pulsing with orange light. Flames licked along her spine and across her wings, and smoke was rising from her feathers. The black dragon had a look of terror on his face. Phoenix must have heard Owl land because she turned, her eyes glowing like cold flames, as if blue fire was blazing inside. She looked back down at the dragon under her talons in surprise. She looked hesitant and the NightWing took it as an opportunity to roll away and leapt into the air. The dragon bolted into the sky, soon a black speck winging away into the sky. Owl looked at Phoenix in shock. “What the-” she whispered. Phoenix’s feathers faded into a dark, dusty orange, and she was breathing heavily. Phoenix met Owls eyes before slumping to the floor, smoke smoldering from her copper plumage.

Owl looked down at her for a minute before leaning down and hauling her on top of her back before launching in the air, winging away towards camp.

By the time they arrived, Owl's wings felt like they were going to fall off. She stumbled into an empty clearing on the edge of a cliff, Phoenix sliding unceremoniously to the ground, wings askew.

Panting, Owl grabbed her from beneath the arms and began dragging her to a sheltered cave at the edge of the clearing. Multiple times she tripped over her own tail, almost dropping her cargo in the process. But finally, finally she made it to the cave opening. She laid Phoenix carefully on the ground, putting some soft moss beneath her head. Wow. She was out. Owl stepped away and flapped down to a creek nearby, scooping some water in a wooden bowl her friend, (significant other? Owl wasn't sure.) Spitfire had carved. Spitfire was a big CloudWing with dark feathers. Owl quickly flew back to the cave, promptly splashing the water on Phoenix's face. She woke up with a start, spluttering and the copper color blazing back into her feathers with a scorching blast of heat. Phoenix spotted Owl with a start, triggering another wave of heat to go crackling around the cave. Owl took a step back from the uncomfortable heat, fanning her wings lightly to try and circulate the now-stuffy air.

Phoenix gave her an apologetic glance, twitching her wings back nervously. “Are you alright?” asked Owl gently, trying to catch the flighty dragonet's eyes. Phoenix gave a slight nod, just the tiniest twitch of her head.

Owl sat down.“So,” she said conversationally, giving the copper dragonet a sideways look to gauge her reaction. Phoenix flinched, probably guessing what Owl was going to ask. Owl plowed on ahead. "Why do your feathers… do…. that?” Being straightforward is probably the best way to go about this, Owl thought. Phoenix gave her a look of pure panicked thinking before whispering, so softly Owl had to lean in to hear, “I don't know.” She glanced at Owl before saying, a little bit louder, “I hatched like this.” Owl nodded, but she str. The heat in the room was beginning to become uncomfortably hot, like the oxygen in the room was being burned out. "Would you like to come outside with me?” Owl asked, holding out a talon to the nervous dragonet. Owl felt like she was being suffocated in this cave. Phoenix nodded and took her talon. Owl winced at the searing heat, and the little copper dragon noticed and pulled her talon back as if bitten.

Owl pretended she didn’t notice. Owl stepped outside, breathing in the fresh,clean air. She saw a dark shape descending from the sky with something in its talons. “Spitfire!” she called, watching as the shape started with surprise before hurrying down. Spitfire was a large CLoudWing that looked like the dragon version of a kestrel. He dropped a large net of fish and the forest grass and the not on the top slipped loose, spilling silvery, stinky fish all over the place. Owl snatched one up and threw it at Spitfire. “Hey!” he yelped, lifting up his talons to fend off the next fish Owl was hurling at him. Phienix laughed, and Spitifire peered around Owl to look. “Who’s this?” he asked, looking the dragonet up and down. Owl opened one wing to shield Phoenix and pointed her talon at him. “This” she said, “Is Phoenix.” she met Spitfire’s eyes. “And I think shes important.”

(theres more but the rest is largely irrelevant and NOT CANON) (this thing is a few years old and thus highly outdated but like- its ok)

[gubbygifs]

𓍊𓋼𓍊𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼 Tag Guide .𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊𓋼 𓍊𓋼

I try to be consistent with with tagging on what's relevant in each post, but if I miss a tag in a recent post I wouldn't mind a head up! I love organising when I can.

This is to be used as a reference for which ever types of stim gifs you're looking for.

Expect this to be edited from time to time :)

��� Colours ✿

Red - Bright red, Crimson, Coquelicot

Orange - Peachy, Fanta,

Yellow - Chartreuse, Neon yellow, Mustard

Green - Lime green, Emerald, Olive, Teal

Blue - Ultramarine, Cerulean, Cyan, Navy, Royal blue,

Purple - Lavander, Magenta

Pink - Pastel pink, Hot pink, Cerise

Black - Charcoal

Grey - Silver, Dusty

White - Offwhite

Brown - Light brown, Dark brown, Beige, Almond

Misc. - Neon, Pastel, Gold, Duochrome, Greyscale, Colourful, Bnw/b&w (black and white) Trans, Bi, RGB,

〘Effects and related〙

Glitter, Glittery, Shimmery, Pearlecent, Iridescent, Flashing, Flickering, Glow, Glitch/Glitchy,

❅Weather and related❅

Sunny Nighttime Foggy Snow/ Snowy Icey Clouds Rain/Rainy

❁Nature and related❁

Animals - Aquatic life, Axolotls, Birds, Cats, Coral, Crows, Mice, Owls, Sharks,

Environments: Creeks, Rivers, Ocean, Forests, Trees, Plants, Flowers, Ponds

✯Food and related✯

Food - Baking, Bread, Desserts, Cakes, Cupcakes, Chocolate, Savory,

Drinks - Coffee, Alcohol, Hot chocolates

Textures and related

Feely textures: Slime, Soft, Fur, Squishy

Textiles - Leather, Cloth, Knitted, Silk

꒰ఎ ~Vibes~ ໒꒱

Comfort - Homey, Nostalgia, Cozy

Camping, Retro, Vintage,

"-Core" aesthetics

(some of these are pretty specific as far as "-Core" goes)

Piratecore, Crowcore, Violencecore, Angelcore, Bunnycore, Cybercore, Sciencecore, Techcore, Robocore

◩Technology◪

Technology - Computers, Cameras,

[toptrendclothing]

2022 alexisonfire merch heartskull shirt

2022 alexisonfire merch heartskull shirt

Green would but too much green could be…well…too much. On the 2022 alexisonfire merch heartskull shirt in contrast I will get this opposite side of the colour wheel is purple so anything like that would be ok It depends on the tone; whether the green is warm, neutral, or cool; the hue, lightness/darkness; and the intensity/saturation of the green. I’ve always been obsessed with olive green as my go-to “black,” and I’ve found that virtually every red color, from dusty rose/baby pink, to coral/salmon, to watermelon/vermillion, to fuschia/magenta, to fluorescent day-glo pink/ladies’ gold ball pink, to scarlet/crimson, to burgundy/raspberry…. they all look good, as long as they compliment your individual skin tone to begin with…. Purples loks great, esp. Lavender, Orchid, and plum; blues look ok, I prefer a lighter blue, like mint, baby blue, icy blue, with olive for contrast, although dark navy and turquoise look good as well… I’d stay away from medium blue tones, they aren’t offensively clashing, but they are less appealing than most of of the blues IMO. Orange, mustard, chartruese, marigold, Baby yellow, lemon yellow, safety yellow, and regular old Big Bird yellow look nice too, again skin tone depending. Black, dark brown, light beige, khaki, white, and gray look good universally. As far as other greens, a good way to match it with other colors’ shades is the old make-up advisor trick, hold both up under your face a few inches below your chin and see how your skin looks, in natural and artificial lighting, ideally…. if it’s glowing, go for it! If you look washed out or sallow, try again with another shade… and try this wit h the green only first, to make sure it’s not the green making you look ‘bleh.’

Buy this shirt:  Click here to buy this 2022 alexisonfire merch heartskull shirt

Home:  https://toptrendclothing.com/

[the-maddened-hatter]

[attempted image description below]:

photo 1- a bracelet decorated with off-white & pink faux pearls, smooth oblong pastel pink beads, smooth circular faux crystal beads (one dusty pink, one burgundy, two clear, and one soft pink), a larger peach colored bumpy bead, and a medium-sized pink rose charm.

photo 2- a bracelet decorated with smooth reflective shiny metal glass beads that are darker in color but reflect different colors depending upon how they are caught by the light

photo 3- a bracelet composed primarily of blue beads in different styles & textures, including grooved & oblong beads, faux pearls, smooth circular faux crystal, and small & metallic with blue bumps. The bracelet also has smooth reflective shiny metal glass beads that are darker in color but reflect different colors depending upon how they are caught by the light, and a clear smooth bead with a watery rainbow coloration

photo 4- a bracelet decorated with bumpy maroon beads, smooth translucent dark fushia colored oval beads, a flat looking light green leaf charm, larger beads that are green with yellow-green swirls, one olive colored smooth reflective shiny metal glass bead, small magenta faux crystal beads, and one smooth circular dark magenta bead with 3 small circles that are red, golden, and dark blue respectively and have small swirl patterns on them.

photo 6- a bracelet decorated with small smooth spherical dark magenta beads, 1 small emerald-colored faux crystal bead, small medium green colored ring shaped beads, 1 squarish lavender bead with white streaks, 1 squared off triangle bead that is dark pink, 1 mushroom charm with a red top and white spots, and mushroom charms with orange tops and white spots.

photo 7- a bracelet with text beads that read "BUCK" in capital letters, a silver male deer charm hanging off the bracelet that is connected to via its antlers. The bracelet is decorated with 2 large light green stars, several small metallic gold colored stars, wide plastic turquoise beads, small wide brown beads, small wide white beads, and a bright green cylindrical bead.

photo 8- a bracelet with text beads that read "SHARK" in capital letters, a silver shark charm is hanging off the bracelet and is connected by "biting" onto the clasp. The bracelet is decorated with 2 large grey metallic stars, several wide plastic beads that are light blue, royal blue, and black, and small beads that are black with a blue star, white with a turquoise star, or white with a black star.

photo 9- a bracelet with small spherical neon pink, green, and orange plastic beads, large neon orange spherical plastic beads, and glow-in-the-dark yellowish stars.

photo 10- a bracelet with small spherical neon pink, blue, and white plastic beads, large neon pink and white spherical plastic beads, 2 medium sized pink stars, a larger blue star, a small pink flower bead, a reddish pink crown bead, a small ridged pink plastic bead, and a neon blue heart bead.

photo 11- a bracelet with a large unicorn charm attached to it via a small clip. The unicorn is walking, and is white with dark grey hooves, a dark purple mane and tail, and a shiny gold horn. The bracelet is decorated with 2 tiny black cylinders with a little purple star on each, several small unevenly textured beads that are purple, hot pink, green, blue, or orange, a large yellow plastic heart bead, a large plastic purple star bead, a medium-sized red plastic heart bead, a pink plastic crown bead, a small blue cylinder bead with a white "smiley face" on it, a large pale pink cylinder bead with a black "smiley face" on it.

photo 12- a bracelet with a large unicorn charm attached to it via a small clip. The unicorn is lying down, and is white with silver hooves, a green mane and tail, and a bronze colored horn. The bracelet is decorated with tiny white beads with a green star on each, medium-sized faux gold metallic beads, two plastic turquoise beads, two large lime-green plastic hearts, a white plastic star bead, a bright green plastic star bead, a small dark green plastic star bead, and a pastel cylinder bead with a black "smiley face" on it.

photo 13- a necklace with a clear rainbow pendant filled with tiny colorful stars & half-moons. The chain of the necklace is decorated with white plastic star beads, glittery golden plastic star beads, thick pastel green discs with black "smiley faces" on them, blue plastic heart beads, a pink plastic heart bead, a white flat wide disc bead with a green star on it, wide cylindrical beads that are red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple. and two ball shaped plastic beads near the charm's connection point. One is pink and one is white, both have horizontal rainbow stripes across their bodies

new additions to our shop! ^ _ ^ December 25th is approaching quickly, if you are planning to order for christmas try to get your orders in now, shipping is going to be very chaotic for the next week+!!!!

if you would like to consider supporting us, we are a dissociative schizophrenic trans cripple who is escaping homelessness and domestic violence, dealing with poverty and recovering from a broken leg. we are behind on rent & bills due to only making $245/month from the government while we apply for disability. you can find our store here:

[itsfullofstars]

The Pillars of Creation (Webb MIRI Image) by James Webb Space Telescope You can’t escape its clutches — just in time for #Halloween, the Pillars of Creation reach back out like a ghostly hand. (Some chilling perspective: these ���fingers” are roughly 5 light-years long!) The eerie landscape is captured this time by the James Webb Space Telescope’s mid-infrared instrument (MIRI). Mid-infrared light specializes in detailing where dust and gas is. Here, the densest areas of dust are the darkest shades of gray, while the red region toward the top is where the dust is diffuse and cooler. Don’t worry, the baby stars seen in Webb’s near-infrared view (released earlier this month) didn’t disappear. They’re just not easy to detect in mid-infrared! Instead, MIRI sees young stars with dusty cloaks — the crimson orbs at the pillars’ fringes — as well as scattered, aging blue stars. Hauntingly beautiful in any light, we can’t help but return to the Pillars of Creation over and over. And each time, we deepen our understanding of this region. With this new MIRI image, astronomers now have higher resolution data in mid-infrared light than ever before. Learn more: www.nasa.gov/feature/goddard/2022/haunting-portrait-nasa-s-webb-reveals-dust-structure-in-pillars-of-creation Credit: NASA, ESA, CSA, STScI [Image description: Three prominent pillars of semi-opaque gas and dust, each in spectral shades of gray-blue, start at the bottom left and reach toward the top right. From left to right, each pillar is consecutively smaller. Together, they appear like a ghostly hand. Towards the top of the leftmost pillar, there is one prominent red star, with tiny spikes at its tip. Lower on this pillar, there are several darker areas of dust that jut out like protrusions, some also with stars that appear as small red dots. The other two pillars are below and to the right of the first pillar. The background of this scene takes on glowing shades of orange-red mixed with black, with the strongest bright orange hues dipping into a V shape at the top center of the image. Scattered throughout the image are a few dozen tiny bright white and blue stars. Larger stars appear like red orbs and are embedded in the pillars.] https://flic.kr/p/2nVLjwR

[moths-wc-aus]

Prefix Meanings - G

Gale - “A very strong wind.” A strong cat; A powerful cat; A swift cat

Gardenia - “A tree or shrub of the bedstraw family, with large fragrant white or yellow flowers.” A white cat; A yellow cat; A large cat; A cat born in early spring; A pretty cat; A graceful cat

Garlic - “A strong-smelling pungent-tasting bulb.” A white cat; A patient cat; A loyal cat; A humble cat

Garter - “A common harmless North American snake that typically has well-defined longitudinal stripes and favors damp habitats.” A dusty brown cat; A black cat; A tabby cat; A gentle cat; A swift cat; A quiet / stealthy cat

Gator - “A large semi aquatic reptile, similar to a crocodile but with a broader and shorter head.” A large cat; A dark-furred cat; A tabby cat; A skilled hunter; A stealthy cat; A fierce cat; A strong cat

Gentle - “Having or showing a mild, kind, or tender temperament or character.” A gentle cat; A calm cat

Gill - “The respiratory organ of fishes and some amphibians by which oxygen is extracted from water.” A tabby cat; A cat with distinctive marks on their neck

Ginger (1) - “A flowering plant widely used as a spice and a folk medicine.” A cat with messy fur; A temperamental cat; A thin-furred cat Ginger (2) - “A light reddish-yellow or orange-brown color.” An orange cat

Glade - “An open space in a forest.” A friendly cat; A social cat; An open-minded cat; A swift cat

Gleaming - “Shining brightly, especially with reflected light.” A cheerful cat; A talented cat Glimmer - “Shine faintly with a wavering light.” A cheerful cat; A charismatic cat; An attractive cat Glowing - “Giving out steady light without flame.” A steady cat; A trustworthy cat; A reliable cat; A cheerful cat

Gloom - “Partial or total darkness.” A dark-furred cat; A black cat; A quiet/stealthy cat; An observant cat

Golden - “Of the color of gold.” A yellow cat; A golden cat

Goldfish - “A small reddish-golden carp, popular in ponds and aquariums.” A small cat; A red cat; An orange cat; An orange and white cat; A skilled swimmer

Goose - “A large waterbird with a long neck, short legs, webbed feet, and a short broad bill.” A brown cat; A black cat; An aggressive cat; A territorial cat; A vocal cat; A cat who is prone to wandering

Gopher - “A burrowing rodent with fur-lined pouches on the outside of the cheeks.” A grey cat; A brown cat; A cat with distinctive teeth; A skilled tunneler

Gorge - “A narrow valley between hills or mountains, typically with steep rocky walls and a stream running through it.” An aloof cat; An intimidating cat; A powerful cat

Gorse - “A yellow-flowered shrub of the pea family, the leaves of which are modified to form spines.” A yellow cat; A defensive cat; A cat with spiky fur

Gosling - “A young goose.” A yellow cat; A grey cat; A tabby cat; A vocal cat

Grass - “Vegetation consisting of typically short plants with long, narrow leaves, growing wild or cultivated on lawns and pasture.” A flexible cat; An adaptable cat; A determined cat

Gravel - “A loose aggregation of small water-worn or pounded stones.” A small cat; A white cat; A grey cat; A black cat; A brown cat; A blue cat; A spotted cat; A speckled cat

Green - "Green color or pigment." A cat with green eyes; A generous cat; A peaceful cat; A greedy cat

Grey - "Grey color or pigment." A grey cat

Grouse - “A large game bird with a plump body and feathered legs.” A brown cat; A black cat; A grey cat; A fluffy cat; A speckled cat; A round cat

Grove - “A small wood, orchard, or group of trees.” A thick-furred cat; A cat with messy fur; A protective cat

Gull - “A long-winged web-footed seabird with a raucous call, typically having white plumage.” A white and grey cat; A white and black cat; A cat with long limbs; A vocal cat

Guppy - “A small freshwater fish widely kept in aquariums.” A small cat; A brightly coloured cat; A cat with a long fluffy tail; A skilled swimmer; A social cat

Gust - “A brief, strong rush of wind.” A strong cat; A powerful cat

[xsulsulnooboo]

Part 2

11. Aurelia Dusk (Twilight Spirit)

• Traits: Erratic, Gloomy, Loves Outdoors

• Aspiration: Outdoor Enthusiast

• Occult: Custom-spirit of twilight

• Clothing Style: Flowing, tattered robes in twilight colors like purples, oranges, and deep blues.

Barefoot with glowing eyes and ethereal accessories, almost as if she's fading with the setting sun.

• Backstory: Aurelia appears at dusk, wandering through forests and forgotten places. She's a guardian spirit of twilight but has lost her way, now cursed to roam between worlds as the light fades.

12. Theodore Grimwell (Paranormal Investigator)

• Traits: Paranoid, Genius, Noncommittal

• Aspiration: Renaissance Sim

• Occult: Human

• Clothing Style: 1920s detective attire-trench coats, fedoras, and dusty shoes. Carries notebooks and a strange device for tracking spirits.

• Backstory: Theodore is obsessed with the paranormal after an incident in his youth. He now hunts ghosts, convinced that the spirits are trying to communicate with him...or are they leading him to his doom?

13. Elara Graves (Dark Priestess)

• Traits: Evil, Self-Assured, Materialistic

• Aspiration: Fabulously Wealthy (but through dark means)

• Occult: Spellcaster

• Clothing Style: Ornate black robes, heavy jewelry adorned with dark symbols, and a staff always at her side. Think high priestess of a forbidden cult.

• Backstory: Elara leads a cult that worships an ancient, forgotten deity. She promises her followers riches and power, but secretly uses their life force to fuel her own dark magic.

14. Nathaniel Thorn (Cursed Puppeteer)

• Traits: Creative, Evil, Loner

• Aspiration: Master Actor

• Occult: Human (with cursed objects)

• Clothing Style: Old-fashioned theater clothing, dusty suits, and always seen with his marionettes, which have an eerie lifelike quality.

• Backstory: Once a famous puppeteer, Nathaniel now lives in isolation after discovering an ancient cursed puppet. The puppets seem to move on their own, and whispers suggest they are made from real people.

15. Dahlia Hemlock (Swamp Witch)

• Traits: Loves Outdoors, Brooding, Mean

• Aspiration: Freelance Botanist

• Occult: Spellcaster

• Clothing Style: Muddy, ragged clothes made of natural materials like vines, leaves, and animal skins. Wears a crown of twigs and feathers.

• Backstory: Dahlia lives in the heart of a deadly swamp, where she concocts potions and poisons from the plants that grow there. Townspeople whisper that she can curse anyone who enters her territory.

16. Vladimira Von Dracul (Vampiric Noblewoman)

• Traits: Snob, Evil, Ambitious

• Aspiration: Vampire Family

• Occult: Vampire

• Clothing Style: Regal, aristocratic vampire attire-silk gowns, capes, and intricate jewelry. Always in shades of deep crimson and black.

• Backstory: Vladimira is a pureblood vampire who has lived for centuries. She is obsessed with the purity of vampire bloodlines and will do anything to keep her family's legacy alive-even if that means eliminating the weaker ones.

17. Lucien Sable (The Sinister Tailor)

• Traits: Perfectionist, Evil, Creative

• Aspiration: Master Maker

• Occult: Human (cursed with eternal creativity)

• Clothing Style: Elegant but unsettling-perfectly tailored suits in dark colors, always impeccably dressed but with a hint of something sinister.

• Backstory: Lucien runs a tailor shop where every garment is a masterpiece. But beware-his creations have a price, and those who wear his clothes may find themselves bound to him forever.

18. Thalia Evershadow (Necromancer Queen)

• Traits: Ambitious, Jealous, Mean

• Aspiration: Master Spellcaster

• Occult: Spellcaster

• Clothing Style: Dark robes lined with gold, a regal crown of bone, and long flowing capes. Her fingers are always adorned with enchanted rings, and she carries a staff made of twisted bone.

• Backstory: Thalia has mastered the art of necromancy and uses it to rule over a kingdom of the dead. Her hunger for power knows no bounds, and she seeks to expand her empire-both in life and in death.

19. Casimir Lockett (Ghostly Wanderer)

• Traits: Gloomy, Loner, Erratic

• Aspiration: Soulmate

• Occult: Ghost

• Clothing Style: Wears old-fashioned formal clothing from the 1800s, always a little tattered and faded. His skin has a translucent, spectral glow.

• Backstory: Casimir is a wandering spirit, lost between worlds after his tragic death centuries ago. He roams the streets looking for the lover he left behind, doomed to never find peace.

20. Lira Vex (The Dreamweaver)

• Traits: Erratic, Creative, Insider

• Aspiration: Painter Extraordinaire

• Occult: Custom-spirit of dreams

• Clothing Style: Flowing robes in pastel colors, with ethereal, almost surreal patterns. Her outfits seem to shimmer and change, like something out of a dream.

• Backstory: Lira is a being that exists only in the realm of dreams. She can enter the dreams of others, weaving them into nightmares or fantastical visions. But those who fall too deeply into her world might never wake up.

Sims ideas created by me with the help of ChatGPT

Feel free to use this and show me your sims when they're done _______________________________________

1. Lilith Nocturne (Vampire Witch)

• Traits: Evil, Genius, Loner

• Aspiration: Master Vampire

• Occult: Vampire

• Clothing Style: Victorian Gothic, dark corsets, long flowing black skirts, lace gloves, and high boots. Think dark elegance, with silver and red accents.

• Backstory: Lilith is an ancient vampire who secretly dabbles in dark magic. She seeks to master both vampirism and forbidden witchcraft to dominate the supernatural world.

2. Mortis Grimes (Undead Revenant)

• Traits: Mean, Gloomy, Hot-Headed

• Aspiration: Public Enemy

• Occult: Ghost (resurrected)

• Clothing Style: Ragged, old-fashioned clothing, torn and weathered. Always in shades of grey and brown as if he's crawled out of the grave. Wears broken chains and tattered formal wear.

• Backstory: Mortis was buried alive centuries ago, and now he's back from the dead, seeking revenge on those who wronged him, even though their descendants have no idea.

3. Selena Shade (Possessed Doll)

• Traits: Insane, Materialistic, Childish

• Aspiration: Fabulously Wealthy (because dolls love to be adored)

• Occult: Not an official occult type but behaves like a possessed object

• Clothing Style: Dresses like an antique porcelain doll: frilly dresses, bows, ribbons, and patent leather shoes, all in faded pastel colors.

• Backstory: Selena was a beloved childhood doll, but her owner cast a forbidden spell, trapping her spirit in the toy forever. Now Selena haunts households, yearning for attention.

4. Sable Morgana (Dark Fae)

• Traits: Erratic, Self-Absorbed, Kleptomaniac

• Aspiration: Chief of Mischief

• Occult: Spellcaster

• Clothing Style: Mystical and ethereal, but with a sinister twist. Think flower crowns with thorny vines, tattered faerie wings, dark flowing robes mixed with intricate jewelry and face paint.

• Backstory: Sable is a dark faerie who was banished from her realm. She thrives on chaos, and her mischief often turns deadly. She's obsessed with causing misery in the mortal world.

5. Edgar Blackthorn (Mad Scientist)

• Traits: Genius, Insane, Paranoid

• Aspiration: Nerd Brain

• Occult: Human

• Clothing Style: Lab coats, goggles, and slightly singed Victorian-inspired scientist attire. Wears gloves and carries strange mechanical gadgets.

• Backstory: Edgar once worked on government secret projects but was exiled for conducting unethical experiments. Now, he conducts experiments in his basement, dreaming of creating life-or ending it.

6. Vespera Nightshade (Living Nightmare)

• Traits: Evil, Noncommittal, Loves the Outdoors

• Aspiration: Soulmate (twisted goal: she wants a partner to consume their soul)

• Occult: Custom-shadow demon/creature of nightmares

• Clothing Style: Long black cloaks, velvet dresses, always barefoot with smoky or fog-like aura around her. Dark purple and black dominate her wardrobe.

• Backstory: Vespera is a creature that feeds on fear. Every night she haunts the dreams of her chosen victims, slowly driving them mad. She's looking for a "lover" to torment for eternity.

7. Isaac Morrow (Cursed Musician)

• Traits: Creative, Gloomy, Perfectionist

• Aspiration: Musical Genius

• Occult: Human (cursed)

• Clothing Style: Formal, 19th-century concert attire. Old, decayed tuxedos with a ghostly pallor to his appearance. He always carries a violin.

• Backstory: Isaac was once a celebrated violinist but made a dark pact to ensure his talent. Now, he is cursed to play endlessly, never satisfied with his work, driving others to despair with his haunting melodies.

8. Ophelia Graves (Witch of the Moors)

• Traits: Loner, Jealous, Brooding

• Aspiration: Spellcraft and Sorcery

• Occult: Spellcaster

• Clothing Style: Long black robes, tattered scarves, and ancient relics. Always barefoot with disheveled hair and muddy hems. She wears necklaces made of animal bones.

• Backstory: Ophelia lives deep in the moors, feared by the townsfolk who call her a witch. She practices necromancy, longing to raise her lost lover from the dead.

9. Victor Revenant (Living Dollmaker)

• Traits: Loner, Creative, Evil

• Aspiration: Master Maker

• Occult: Human (with dark magic)

• Clothing Style: Victorian, leather aprons over classic gothic suits. Always carries tools and looks slightly unkempt, with blood-stained gloves.

• Backstory: Victor is obsessed with making life-sized dolls that are "too lifelike." Some whisper that these dolls are people who crossed him, enchanted into eternal silence.

10. Eira Frost (Ice Queen)

• Traits: Self-Assured, Evil, Loner

• Aspiration: Freelance Botanist (but she kills plants instead)

• Occult: Custom-spirit of winter

• Clothing Style: Ice blue dresses, sparkling tiaras, and crystal jewelry. Her clothing seems to shimmer with frost, and her skin has a cold, blueish hue.

• Backstory: Eira was once the spirit of winter who brought beauty to the land, but after being betrayed by her lover, she became cold and vengeful, freezing everything and everyone who crosses her path.

[cozycryptidcorner]

Kinktober: Fae/Dry Humping

Tags: fae/reader, lemon, dry humping, femdom

The lights of the street lamps bleed through the doors of your car, illuminating him with a dull neon glow. His hands grip your waist, his breath coming out in hot, heavy puffs, eyes seeming bright orange in the flickering fluorescent sign. As you settle over his hips, you can feel a tent in his pants, hard, thick, desperate for release.

There’s a dull, distant bass that somehow sounds through the metal and the rest of the block, a reminder that you’re only a few impossible yards from a club. Your supernatural partner looks absolutely ruined beneath you, lips pink and wet with spit, his eyes almost entirely black and shockingly lucid.

His hands are twisted in a makeshift tie, the seatbelt wrapped around his wrists a few times and locked. Even if you saw fit to release him, there’s no way you could manage to untangle his limbs in a timely manner; you made sure to lock him in well and good should you need a quick escape for… business purposes. But for now, you suppose you can have a little fun with him.

With your back against the steering wheel, you spread your legs around to tightly straddle his hips, watching his face as soon as you settle over the bulge. His face doesn’t disappoint, his eyes widening, his mouth opening to a soft oh, back arching as far as he can make it off the flattened seat.

You start with kisses, heated, open-mouthed kisses where you’re quick to dominate his mouth with your tongue. He whimpers, and he keens, pelvis thrusting into yours, eyes closed as he allows you to violet his lips with such easy submission you wonder why you’ve never tried fucking him before. After all, you’ve seen him, hanging around the club with his silk shirts and expensively cut pants, but you’ve never offered up a passing thought until-

Just to be a bitch, you bite down on his lower lip, determined to make sure he leaves this chance meeting looking like he got in a tussle with a fully-fledged werewolf. As he moans his approval, you shift, trying to get yourself more comfortable in the suddenly stuffy interior. Say what you want about car sex; it can be challenging to find comfortable positions for both parties, especially if it’s an unfamiliar environment.

Moving your mouth to his neck, you bite down, trying to take advantage of the sensitive skin that will easily blossom with the most decadent of bruises tomorrow morning. Placing a knee up on the center cupholder, you snake your hand down to where his cock is steadily fighting to be free of its confines, a testament to his arousal and desire for you to fuck him into oblivion.

“You seem eager,” you whisper, wishing you had the foresight to at least turn the radio up. Something about the steady woosh of warm air coming from the heaters puts you on edge.

“All the better to fuck you with, my dear.” His voice is anything but steady as you accidently squeeze his rod just a tad too hard.

“I think you have a misconception of who will be fucking who,” you murmur, a smile on your face, opening your mouth and biting down on the skin of his shoulder.

He lets out an approving moan, arms struggling against the car seat strap. His face seems to be turning bright red, but nothing in his words or tone suggests that you should be stopping your onslaught anytime soon. Calmly, you begin to unbutton his shirt, going down the damn things one by one, until you finally have his chest exposed enough for you to gently violate.

Without a shred of mercy, you go for his left nipple, squeezing the rose-colored dusty bud between your fingers. He keens and he moans while you begin to pinch and roll his right one as well, body wriggling and jerking so very beautifully between your legs. Wishing you could be even less impassioned than you are, you watch him slowly become undone, slick wetness still developing between your thighs.

Your own needs beckon you to grind, but you still have it in you to torture this soft bitch of a fae before you tend to yourself. Slowly, in a facade of tenderness, you kiss him again, right on the mouth as you slowly rub his clothed cock in your hands, reveling in the way he gasps as you experiment with different motions. Up, down, squeeze gently, maybe a little rougher, press and pull, watching his face as he slowly becomes undone.

“Please,” he gasps, one of the few words he’s said to you all night.

“Please, what?” You ask, wishing you knew how to be so much more crueler to him than you already are.

“I want to cum,” he whispers, as though he is well aware of how absurd the request is.

You hum, as though in thought, even though your mind is already made up. With the voice of a person who might be convinced, you ask, “do you deserve to cum?”

The hesitation is all you need to latch onto, your fingers wrapping around his throat, your mouth curved in a sadistic grin. “All you’ve done is whine and moan beneath me; what have you done to actually deserve a release?”

He lets out a raspy breath, blue eyes haunting. Opening his mouth, he tries to make out the words that plead you to his case, promises that offer up the sun and the stars if you’d only allow him to relieve his tension, but you glare down at him with an impassive stare.

“I didn’t hear any reason for you to cum. Can you please tell me?”

“I-” he chokes as you rub his crotch, “I’ve been so good to you, all tied up like a pretty present. Will you please let me cum?”

“Hm,” you murmur, thinking over his response, “but can I reward you for doing what you’re told? For cooperating like the bitch boy that you are?”

He gasps, those sweet eyes watering, his struggling against his straps almost sweet. “I’ve obeyed you, I haven’t cummed, or moved?”

“I’ll think about it,” you say, pretending to not care. With some level of violence, you cup his chin in your hand, squeezing, admiring the way his mouth puckers when he wants something. He’s been a decent pet, hasn’t he? You might actually allow him the satisfaction of cumming, though you don’t plan on stripping him from the rest of his clothes.

Still, you put up the facade of careful thought, mindlessly palming his crotch. Even through the material, you know that he would fit inside you so very sweetly, you know that letting him inside is a reward that he hasn’t yet deserved, even if you are allowing him this single instance of release. Slowly, you bend over him, hovering your lips just inches away from his ear, and whisper, “you’re allowed to cum.”

He chokes, you can feel his tongue against your index finger, so you push it in further. Even with the hazy fluorescent light, you can see the threads of his sanity unwinding, his pelvis thrusting up to grind against your thigh. You don’t say anything as he becomes undone, only watch, your own arousal heating up your womb and making you wish you had an extra hand to touch yourself with.

The only signs he has cummed are the hot, sporadic thrusts from his waist, dark splotches growing from the sperm coating the underside of his pants. His face becomes red, his breath coming out in heavy, ugly puffs, his moaning and begging so sweet in your ears you might have had your own release if your guard had been any lower.

He writhes and he moans, face twisting with the bitter sense of being bested by someone he might consider to be of lower status. You love the way he tries to rationalize his behavior, such a sweet, stupid little fae. The way he seems to bend towards your supposedly inferior human body.

When all is said and done, the shame and humiliation give his mouth such a sweet, pathetic little quiver, anyways. You suppose that you might allow him back in your presence should he come seeming you again.