#mauve miracle

[ebonyslasher]

Hello! May I request a black noir x supe!reader where the reader is secretly apart of The Boys. Also maybe where the reader manages to get black noir to safely before Homelander can come and kill him? Maybe the reader finds out from hugie (pretty sure he was there when solder boy told Homelander he was his dad?? Don’t really remeber though) that Homelander found out that solder boy is his dad and probably going after black noir? Please and thanks!

Hey! I made up the supe powers for this specific situation since you didn't specify.

Span is from a couple of months before season four to after.

The Almost Last Moment

After years of trying and IVF treatments, you future mother finally got pregnant. During early first trimester, your parents selfishly allowed doctors to inject compound V in fetus that formed into you. You were born their literal miracle baby. However, the only power that was apparent was your slight super strength when you were a toddler. Hoping for much more, they were disappointed.

As you grew, your true powers developed. The most exciting power that your parents were actually proud of was your portal making. Admittedly, it was fun jumping to and from anywhere in the world. Especially when you got some birthday money. What 10 year old wouldn't transport themselves to the candy store?

Another ability that you had was tying your aura to another. How they felt, what they felt, and why they felt would flow into the channel that you picked at. You could form the channel with anyone, but it was strongest with emotional attachment. However, if someone felt emotions strong enough, you didn't need a connection to feel them. Your parents didn't care too much about that one, but you thought it was useful.

The idea of being a supe was entertained for about 3 months out of your entire life. Your parents, although not sincerely encouraging, wanted the taste of fame and auditioned you for...well you didn't really know. All you did know what that your powers weren't "popular" aka not profitable enough to be on the forefront. Forget about being a part of The Seven. They offered some ads since you were pretty, but you declined. It didn't feel right, the commercialization of heroes.

Your parents were disappointed in your decision. Their standoffish behavior after pissed you off. If being a hero was just brand deals and politics, then they could do it themselves, since they wanted it so badly. Distancing yourself from them as an adult, you decide to stay low, attempting to live a normal life. The disappointment you had in other "heroes" furthered after observing the way they treated non-supes. So, it was no surprise that you joined The Boys after seeing a supe kill someone just to heighten their coke high.

The little rag-tag group had some interesting characters. What was very interesting was the allies they had within The Seven: Starlight and Mauve. The latter you had briefly met, along with A-Train, at your audition years ago.

Although The Boys represented powerful and much needed justice for non-supes, the work and aura was quite overwhelming. Needing an escape, you began volunteering at animal shelters in your free time. It made you feel good and wholesome, and gave you some much needed space.

This is where you, surprisingly, caught Black Noir's attention. He would go to the shelters to volunteer himself. It looked good for his image and he got to see cute animals. Black Noir noticed you coming in frequently and he became enthralled with your beauty and compassion. Every time you were there, he was there watching from afar. He came up to you one day and stared you down before lightly petting the bunny in your hand. It was...quite awkward to say the least. Him silently doing this and then abruptly leaving.

A nearby worker made an off hand comment that he comes in every week to spend time with the animals, sometimes showing them to children. How sweet. The next time you saw him, you approached, butterflies forming in your stomach. A beautiful relationship blossomed from there.

Although The Boys and The Seven's relationships was in hell, your relationship with Black Noir was heaven. God, he was perfect. Black Noir was such a gentleman. So polite, sweet, and dorky. His awkward habits were downright adorable. It pained you to keep your tie to The Boys a secret. It was apparent how loyal Black Noir was to Vought. You wished he wasn't so loyal to them. It'd make your job a whole lot easier with taking Homelander down.

As the relationship grew deeper, you couldn't help but blend your aura with his. This man is so damn stable. He would flicker through many emotions, like all humans did, but dealt with them head on. He was never afraid to feel things through. You were a bit jealous, but pleased he was emotionally healthy.

His stability was pretty consistent until you felt a sharp pang of paranoia, fear, and dulled pain one day. It shocked you into worry, immediately calling him. He never picked up. You continuously call and to no avail. This feeling of your own panic swept your legs to look for him, but...you couldn't find him. You tried your best to tap into the aura to locate him but the anxiety and paranoia severely dented your focus.

Not long later, Hughie and Butcher continued their escapades with Soldier Boy in hopes of finding his old teammates. You jumped up at the opportunity to join, stating that you'd be useful with your portal ability. Thankfully, they allowed it. It was during the fight with Windstorm when you felt a stronger pulse from the connection. You silently wandered off, using a portal to his location.

You find him, coming out of an abandoned building. Before you could call out, he leaves with quick determination. You try to catch up, deciding to silently follow him. Some time later, he walked right into Vought. Damn. You couldn't just walk right in. And you needed to get back to Butcher.

Your portal led your way back to the team just in time. You used your powers to help Soldier Boy kill his old teammate. Hughie turns to you with a questioning look but you trudge forward so he wouldn't ask anything.

It's an hour or so later when you decide to break into Vought using a portal. You stepped through, tapping into the connection to see how Black Noir felt. He was hopeful, happy, and focused with an underlying thrum of worry. Your shoulders relaxed as you finished stepping through the portal, into the hallway near a conference room. You see some movement and decide to peer around the corner. It was Black Noir and Homelander.

Homelander was speaking to him, going on about how he was able to see through the mask Black Noir had. How he knew what emotions Black Noir was feeling and what he looked like. As he started to speak about him having a father, you could feel some odd emotion welling up in the atmosphere. It wasn't coming from Noir, as you quickly tapped to check. It was coming from Homelander. The feeling was strong, with the air of slight sadness and animosity building quickly as he approached Black Noir. Homelander grabs onto Black Noirs' neck gently and asks,

"Why didn't you tell me?"

He makes this weird grimace and those intense emotions move onto new heights. You knew something bad was going to happen. You start to move when you see Homelanders' free arm move back. Quickly, you create a small portal. Homelander's hand goes through to portal instead of Black Noir.

Black Noir quickly looks at you and you book it towards him. With all the strength you could muster, you kick Homelander back. Putting yourself between the two, you create a portal behind Black Noir. You propel yourself back, bringing Noir with you as you both fell into the portal. You quickly close it as soon as Homelander almost flies through.

You're a mess of pants before you turn to Black Noir. He looked to be in a state on disbelief. You grabbed his hand, squeezing tightly. Breathlessly you said, "Just in time...Earving."

[honeylullaby]

I don’t believe in God, but I believe that you’re my saviour. PT1

(Rivals) Rupert Campbell-Black x Reader

Suggestion by a sweet anon 🫶🏽 / Spending your life wrapped in cotton wool, Rupert is determined to continue this treatment…

Title derived from Sailor Song by Gigi Perez.

18+ FANFIC / Protective, soft Rupert, all the good stuff. Reader character aged at 21. PT 1, perhaps?

Majestic hues of indigo and glowing blush pink decorated the horizon over Rutshire and luminous blooms of azaleas and tulips fluttered softly in the early morning Spring breeze. The Orchard, your stately home, Elizabethan and passed down through Daddy’s family for centuries, glowed mauve under the imposing sunrise. From the view of your turreted bedroom, you could faintly make out The Priory to your left, under heaving climbs of bluebells. But, most importantly, over the steep hills ahead of you, Penscombe Court stood, most extravagant and superbly grandiose. It wasn’t the building in particular that enthused you but rather the man who resided there — Rupert Campbell-Black. He had made something of a nuisance of himself recently, spending evenings in your main sitting room, emptying bottles of extortionately-priced whiskey and smoking your father’s best cigars. You had spent so many a drunken night with him that, more often than not nowadays, he was usually lay beside you in the morning, in his birthday suit and with the most tremendous hangover.

As the piercing ivory sunlight began to penetrate through the pearl-grey velveted curtains of the sitting room, you were soon frantic with panic, scurrying along The Orchard’s winding hallways in search of your car keys — your car, a candy red Porsche 911, bought as a 21st birthday gift by Daddy. But the sound of the front door being pushed open, followed by a strident bark from Barnaby, made you jump with terror. Who on Earth would just let themself in, you think to yourself. “Hello, Barney. I bought you a present, old chap. Enjoy.” A familiar voice boomed from the porch. Rupert, looking particularly suave in a sapphire blue suit, had handed Barnaby quite possibly the biggest pork bone one had ever seen. With two impressive ropes of saliva stringing from the corners of his mouth, Barnaby — your gargantuan St. Bernard, sloped off into the kitchen.

It was well established that Rupert loved dogs, but the way in which he treated your gentle giant was enough to turn the coldest heart pure. “Hello, darling. How are we today?” Rupert questioned, instinctively following Barney and pouring himself a glass of Perrier from the cooler. “Good. Can’t find my car keys.” You huff, gliding past him and rooting through the fruit bowl. His libidinous gaze followed you — my Goodness, she looks delicious, he thought. Your golden hair fell in perfectly preened waves down your olive-skinned back, with a leopard print mini dress hugging tightly at your shapely figure, red lace delicately lining the neckline and bottom hem. Both your fingernails and your toenails were painted a deep claret — Rupert’s favourite.

Making himself at home, Rupert sat at the breakfast bar, perched with crossed legs on a tall stool and flicking through The Scorpion. Emblazoned across the front page was a sorrowful image of the Cotchester Dogs Home, they’re being forced to close their doors due to their funding being cut, and it would take an absolute miracle to keep their doors open. Taking a quick glance at it, you mewl forlornly and stop in your tracks. “How hopelessly sad! What about the poor doggies? Where will they go? How can they cut funding for such an important thing?” Tears brimmed in your eyes as you moaned. Sensing your sadness, Barnaby hauled himself up and circled your feet, prompting you to scratch the perfect spot behind his ears through melancholy sniffles.

Sorrow tore through Rupert’s gut like a knife— he couldn’t bear to see you in such a state. To see your eyes filled with tears was close to death, for him. “It’s okay, angel. They’ll work something out.” He groaned, standing from his stool and wrapping a protective arm around you. If only he could protect you from every worldly atrocity, at least then he could relax. “But they won’t! And all the poor doggies will be separated, or-or even left on the street. Oh, I can’t bare it.” You sobbed, throwing yourself into Rupert’s muscular body and only feeling slightly comforted by him raking a soft hand through your golden tresses. After adequately settling you, Rupert knocked back the rest of his Perrier like a shot and began to exit the room, only hesitating to say, “I have to nip out, sweetheart. I’ll call you later.”

-

It was nearing two pm when you heard from Rupert again. Studying your reflection in your hallway mirror, you yelp in delight as the receiver rang beside you. Almost tearing it from the wall to answer it, you hold the phone by your ear and feel your heart melt as your lover’s voice vibrated into your ear. “Hello, princess. I’m terribly sorry about my disappearance earlier.” Twirling a lock of hair around your finger as you speak, “It’s okay. I’m sorry for my outburst. I just can’t believe the injustice.”, you respond. There’s a pause for a moment, and you can hear Rupert shushing something in the background. “If you’re free, come up to me. I have something for you.”

Planting a gentle kiss on Barnaby’s fluffy temple, you finally locate your keys under his colossal leg, and saunter to your Porsche. The drive to Penscombe Court takes approximately forty-seven seconds from The Orchard, and your black kitten heels tremble unsteadily on the gravel driveway. Pushing open the door, you are greeted by a tumultuous cacophony of barking, and Rupert strolling towards you, a rather smug grin tugging at his lips. “Are you ready for your surprise?” He asked, covering your glinting eyes with his palms and walking you towards the garden.

Removing his palms, he revealed a large conglomeration of endearing dogs — whippets, beagles, cocker spaniels & deerhounds. All panting and wagging their tales contentedly. “These, princess, are the twelve former residents of Cotchester Dogs Home. Now residents of Penscombe Court.” The intoxicating man announced, waving his hands in glee. Collapsing in a fit of joyful tears, you throw your arms around Rupert and weep into his shoulder, before subsequently kneeling onto the grass and receiving a barrage of licks from the group of hounds. “So many beautiful pups! And so many friends for Barnaby! Rupert Campbell-Black, you are the best man.” You exclaim. If only that were true, he thought to himself, but it secretly overjoyed him that you were quite possibly the only person that thought so.

-

As the evening drew to a close, the pair of you retired to Rupert’s sitting room. The fire crackled gloriously in the corner, and a herd of tranquil dogs slept soundlessly beside it. Sat upright on the squashy, sepia leather sofa, Rupert delicately traced patterns into your scalp. “You have done a marvellous thing today, Rupert.” You peep drowsily. “I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t all for you, princess. I can’t bare to see you upset.” He responded, hunching temporarily to kiss your forehead in luscious gentleness. “Nobody’s been this frightfully nice to me since father. All I’ve ever wanted is to be looked after.” You confide, and nuzzle your face deeper into his lap. “Angel, I will make it my life’s work to protect you.” Rupert responds, watching you as you rise from the sofa and sigh.

Slipping on your shoes, you pad to the front door, not needing to look back, knowing this lovesick man will follow you. “I’ll go and collect Barnaby, and we shall stay here tonight. I don’t think I can face a night without you,” You mumble, locking hands with him and shooting him those huge, innocent eyes. Rupert felt his stomach stir in desire. “I don’t mean to scare you, but I feel as though I’m falling for you.” But you needn’t have confessed. For the way Rupert’s cerulean eyes beamed with awe as he looked at you said it all. “Fall away, angel. I’m here to catch you.” He winks as he speaks, and opens the door for you, blowing you a kiss as you trudge to your car.

Knowing you’d be back in a matter of minutes, Rupert sauntered to the kitchen and flicked on the kettle. Never in his life had he felt this wave of endearment, this sense of responsibility, towards someone. But he was sure, more than he had ever been about anything before, that he wouldn’t let you down.

“I sleep so I can see you, cause I hate to wait so long.” - Sailor Song, Gigi Perez.

[the-100-days-of-junkan]

Day 67

Tattoos! I actually have an exciting (for me personally) story for this one! 

First let’s focus on the pic though. 

I just thought it’d be cute to have them get some romantic matching tattoos. It is not that complicated unfortunately. 

Okay now the story! 

So you know by now that some of my favorite works of this ship come from good friend of the blog @vanadisvalentine, and i’ve likely mentioned a few times by now that she has a currently ongoing Fic, “A Year of Love and Despair.” Well if you’ve read that (which you should if you haven’t already by the way), this pic might be reminding you of her chapter made for Constitutional Memorial Day. Well if you go down to the description you’ll notice that my previous Alias for both this account and my writing blog is mentioned, CJ! 

That’s right, by some miracle I accidentally inspired that chapter with this pic, a fact that still boggles my mind. And when I found that out at the time I got a crazy adrenaline rush from the excitement. 

You’ll notice that in the fic itself, the design of the tattoo is different from what’s featured in the art. Being a Purple Cross with the Monokuma heart in the middle rather than two different tattoos to represent the two. Fun fact, when this chapter came out I had completely forgotten what I drew for No. 67, so when I went back to look at it for the first time I was like “wait, these aren’t the designs in the fic.” And then I was kicking myself for not coming up with that, because it’s significantly better in my opinion, no idea what was going through my head at the time of drawing.

Oh yeah this is also how I found out that Mauve is a color, and not a descriptor for looking sad. I may be an artist by trade but that does not mean I’m smart about it lsjadhflsdhfsjd.

I’ve actually been thinking a lot lately about getting a Tattoo myself! Now the first and foremost one I want to get is The Fairy Tail Guild Mark across my left hand (the one I draw with). However if I were to say what I’d want to get after that, definitely the tattoo featured in this fic! I feel like this ship at this point is violently woven into my bloodstream enough to where I’m willing to get it permanently etched into my flesh. Maybe on my shoulder? Not sure yet! 

As always, Reblogs, Comments, and Little Notes in the Tags are appreciated!~ They always make my day!~

[pupsmailbox]

STARTING WITH M

MASCULINE︰ mac. macaulay. macauley. mack. maddox. maitland. major. makai. malachai. malachi. malakai. malcolm. malcom. malik. malon. manley. manny. manuel. marcelo. marco. marcos. marcus. mario. marion. mark. marley. marlin. marlon. marlowe. marlyn. marshal. marshall. martie. martin. marty. marvin. marvyn. mason. mat. mateo. mathew. mathias. matias. matt. matteo. matthew. matthias. mattie. matty. maurice. mauricio. maurie. maven. maverick. max. maxie. maximilian. maximiliano. maximillian. maximus. maxton. maxwell. maynerd. mayson. mccoy. mckinley. mel. melville. melvin. melvyn. memphis. meredith. merit. merle. merlin. merlyn. merrick. merv. mervin. mervyn. messiah. micah. michael. micheal. mick. mickey. micky. miguel. mike. mikey. milan. miles. milford. millard. miller. milo. milton. mitch. mitchell. mo. moe. mohamed. mohammad. mohammed. moises. monday. monroe. montague. monte. montgomery. monty. moralis. morgan. morley. morris. mort. morton. morty. moses. moshe. moss. muhammad. munro. munroe. murphy. murray. musa. myles. myron.

FEMININE︰ mabel. mac. macey. maci. mackalya. mackayla. mackenzie. macy. maddie. maddison. madeleine. madeline. madelyn. madilyn. madison. maeve. maggie. magnolia. maisie. makayla. makenna. makenzie. malani. malaya. malaysia. malia. malinda. maliyah. mallory. malory. marceleine. maren. margaret. margaux. margo. margot. maria. mariah. mariana. marianne. marie. marina. marlee. marleigh. marley. mary. maryanna. mavis. maxine. maya. mckenna. mckenzie. meadow. meera. megan. melanie. melina. melissa. melody. mena. meredith. mia. miah. miana. michaela. michelle. mila. milani. miley. millie. miracle. miranda. miriam. molina. molliana. molly. monica. morgan. mya. myla. myra.

NEUTRAL︰ mace. madden. maddix. mage. magenta. magic. maim. maine. maison. majesty. major. makari. malak. malice. malware. maple. marble. march. mari. marigold. marin. marion. marley. marlin. marlo. marlow. mars. marsh. marvel. mascara. masquerade. masyn. match. mauve. maven. mayday. mayhem. mayson. maze. mazi. mckinley. meadow. mecca. med. mega. melancholy. mellow. melody. memphis. mention. mercury. mercy. merengue. meridian. merit. merlin. merrick. merritt. merry. meteorite. metro. metronome. meyer. micah. micaiah. michigan. mickey. middle. midnight. mika. mikah. milan. miles. miller. million. minus. miracle. mirage. misery. misfit. misha. miss. mission. misty. model. monday. monitor. monroe. montana. montgomery. moon. moor. morgan. morse. moss. moth. muck. mud. murphy. mutt. myka. mykah. mystery. mystique.

[illarian-rambling]

Thanks for the tag @mysticstarlightduck!

Character Profile Tag

Full Name: Ivander Montane

Kind of Being: Mixed human, elven, dwarven, siren, and Daramakti (alien, but he doesn't know that) heritage

Age: 31

Gender: cis man

Appearance: Ivander is a man of medium height and an unremarkable build, with a hawkish sort of face. His skin is pale enough to show off the blue blood beneath, lending him a cerulean hue. His eyes, also, are a shade too turquoise to be human. His hair is black and slicked back, and he has a pencil mustache and goatee he keeps neatly trimmed. His ears are oddly double-pointed. All of this is an illusion, however. Ivander’s true face is ruined by a flesh-eating curse. He wears bandages under his clothes to keep the blood off, and much of his ears, nose, lips, and eyelids are beginning to be eaten away. The only sign of this in his daily life, though, is the cane he walks with and the gloves he wears to keep from leaving behind bloody fingerprints. His fashion sense otherwise is impeccable, consisting of beautifully tailored suits in flattering colors.

Occupation: A detective for the Unity Bureau of Arcane Investigation, a subsidiary of their police force.

Family Members:

Antonin Montane (estranged father who neglected him for his entire childhood and who keeps an abusive hold on the entire Montane family through controlling the family fortune)

Marius Montane (uncle who raised him despite the turmoil he endured as Antonin's younger brother)

Idrin Pashan-Baijahreet (mother who went missing when he was eight, a former merchant of the Flying City)

Tomas Montane (an older cousin he looked up to)

Eva Montane (a younger half-sister he doesn't know about, as she was born after he cut contact)

Pets: Hell no

Best friends: Ceyrel Gavorn is his partner at the BAI and has been his only friend for about a full decade now. She's an ornery hobgoblin with a crude sense of humor that one might think Ivander would turn his nose up at, but they both have a love of salacious gossip that bonds them together.

Describe their room: Ivander’s entire apartment is color-coded, so his whole bedroom is purple. The walls are an icy periwinkle with ivy patterns, while the curtains are a powdery mauve. His sheets and rugs are plush and a dark plum color, over a hardwood floor. Given how fastidious he is in everything else, it's a surprisingly messy space. Dirty clothes line the floor, and there's a mountain of old cups and pill bottles on his bedside table. His wardrobe is well kept, but very overstuffed. His bed is completely unmade and covered with bloodstains he just can't keep up with washing out anymore.

Way of speaking: Camp english accent - he sounds like a gay-coded villain in a kid's cartoon. He uses lots of big words and underhanded insults.

Physical characteristics (posture, gestures, attitude): Ivander’s posture is meant to lean. He usually drapes himself in some doorframe or another, or slouches onto a chair. From the way he moves, you can clearly tell he's in pain. From the way he moves, you can also tell he grew up at fancy dinners and investment meetings.

Items in their back pocket/purse: Eyedrops, bandages, meds, rune handbook, teeny tiny pistol.

Favorite sports: Ivander would rather die than do or watch a sport. If you tell him you're an athlete, he'll laugh.

Powers: The ability to pull miracles from a mostly unwilling god and to write an unbreakable contract.

Relationships (how they are with other people): Ivander is the king of intimacy issues. He's terrified of getting close to people, since the last person he was close to disappeared in the night. He puts up a jaded, bemused, and even cruel front to cover up his aching loneliness. He'd much rather hurt you than allow you to hurt him.

Fears: Death and damnation, living in pain forever, getting close to someone and proving to himself once and for all that he's incapable of overcoming the selfishness he was born into.

Faults: Ruthless, selfish, elitist, gossipy, cruel like a middle school bully. He can just be a real asshole when he wants to, and refuses to ask for help. He's also utterly blind to his positive qualities.

Good Points: Determined, brave, clever, cares deeply about the few friends he does have. Genuinely the last person you'd expect to be truly heroic, but he does manage despite himself. When he lets himself be, Ivander is a highly empathetic person.

What they want more than anything else: To cure the curse that's killing him.

I'll tag @the-golden-comet @leahnardo-da-veggie (this blorbo's for you, my guy) @sergeantnarwhalwrites @willtheweaver @finickyfelix and anyone else who wants in :)

Blanks under the cut

Full Name: Kind of Being: Age: Gender: Appearance: Occupation: Family Members: Pets: Best friends: Describe their room: Way of speaking: Physical characteristics (posture, gestures, attitude): Items in their back pocket/purse: Favorite sports: Powers: Relationships (how they are with other people): Fears: Faults: Good Points: What they want more than anything else:

[axl-ul]

OC Favorites Tag Game

Thank you @mthollowell-writes for the tag, dear^^

Soft tags: @thesorcerersapprentice @frogqueenofmirkwood @your-absent-father @olivescales3 @mjparkerwriting @myhusbandsasemni @my-cursed-prince and an open tag for anyone else who'd like to join^^

RULES: Share your OCs’ favorite color, shoe choice, season, animal and pastime. The tag some other people.

(Since these OCs are alive either during the early Middle Ages or late 1920s, I'm doing this tag as if they're in a modern AU. Otherwise, it would be pretty difficult for me to do this tag game. But who knows, maybe a little miracle shall happen and they will live up to the modern ages, too, hehe.)

Ulfrika - black, chelsea boots, winter, any sort of an animal (she's a pet mom basically), forest hiking/trekking with her pets and bringing cool rocks and twigs back home and to the local animal shelter

Márgerdra - (dark) mauve, stilettos, summer, a dog (especially the big breeds and most of all wolfdogs), rock climbing and experimenting with new recipes

Xue - pastel green, ballerinas, spring, a cat (especially orange tabby cats), writing poetry while baking sweets

Master Kogar - dark brown (chocolate brown), construction boots, autumn, a dog (fave breed might be a Caucasian Shepard or German Shepard), recreating the medieval weapons (especially swords) in his workshop

Vivienne (previously named Darya) - carmine red, platforms, summer, Indian Ringneck parakeet, knitting little sweaters for her birds while drinking wine

[oceanicflyboy]

https://www.tumblr.com/oceanicflyboy/761282476706545664/httpswwwtumblrcomoceanicflyboy76109332210219

* Uva turns to them, smile softening into something more human. *

Ah, yes. I had forgotten about that, dear, just give them a moment longer.

The sacrifice should be accepted soon.

* the onlookers continue to chant as a soft, almost imperceptible light fills the arena, mauve; dust floating gold in the light. The crowd falls silent. Uva closes her eyes, resting a hand on the carcass, before turning to Hal *

Watch, love, this is a miracle not many will witness

* the carcass grows warm as the light grows, gold seeping from the cracks where the kid makes contact with its slayer. It’s chest begins to rise *

- 🍇

(OoC. Sorry I lowkey dipped again, the past week has been chaos—

also sorry if the writings a bit off with this one—)

🫧;; Hal relaxes slightly at seeing Uva's smile softing into something more human. He smiles back hesitantly.

"Understood.. i can wait, i am patient"

🫧;; Hal observes the scene, watching the light glow and the dust floating gold in the light. They scrunch their face in confusion seeing the crowd fall silent. Stoping with that face to look at Uva they tilt their head to the side a little observing them.

"Miracle..? What miracle?"

🫧;; They ask confused, before freezing and staring at the kid(baby goat) carcass now..breathing? It's breathing, right? Did it come back to life..? It's also warm, so maybe-

"Is it-" 'Alive again?' doesn't go added

{{ooc. It's fine don't worry! My week has also been like that.. and don't worry the writing isn't off to me!}}

[insurrection-writes]

SINCERELY | TVD

"i would live this life a thousands more times just to meet you."

"i wouldn't."

Two.

Parts : ONE TWO THREE …

a/n: this part really sticks with me still, even though I wrote it many months ago. the emotions I tried to convey with a little shitty poetry seem to work, so yay! i have a few little unfinished “chapters” after this that I’ll start working to finish on my next day off. not promising anything consistent but i feel the itch to write at the moment.

Sunlight dwindles into dusk. Blue fades into hues of pink and orange, only to be extinguished into the darkness of night. With twinkling stars reflecting into dripping wetness from her eyes, Mauve cries.

Soft, inaudible sobs. Lightly bubbled in her chest, yet heavy weighing on her soul, spilling out between the hands clamped over her mouth to quiet sounds that no one would hear either way.

She cries for what she has lost. She cries for what she will never gain. She cries for everything and nothing all the same.

That anxiety would never fade. The fear and paranoia of being found would stick, even after death. In a house so silent you would swear to hear imaginary things, the thought of breaking this silence was stricken enough.

She cries, yearning for physical touch. She cries for comfort. She cries for everything.

The memories that still haunt her. The routine thoughts and actions that kept her safe, not needed but still followed. The first of many times, and the last of many failures to protect herself.

She cries, starving for validation. She cries for reprieve. She cries for nothing.

Cries fade, tears dry, a stuffy nose and tired eyes. Trained on the wall, unfocused, she gets a sense of deja vu.

The realization of yet another depressing episode commencing startles her.

It shouldn't be this way. She should be fixed.

Shes not.

A radio stationed on the window sill, it's sounds bleeding out into the garden. Soft melodies a constant, never an ad or talking voice.

The rush of water from the hose, being directed over the plants. Soaking into the soil, trails of water following its own paths into the planting bed.

Leaves rustling in the wind, branches swaying from the force. Whispers of squirrels and other woodland creatures chattering in the distance.

In this peace, Mauve settles her mind. It's been 36 days since her break down. 508 days since she arrived here.

Some days are better than others. She has stopped wondering how and why. She's just thankful for the quiet.

Her quiet oasis. Floating in the rift between worlds. Peaceful and soul healing. Something of a cosmic joke and miracle rolled into one.

Her quiet oasis. Until it's not.

She hears it before she sees it. The ruffle of feathers and squawking of birds hitting the sky. The thunderous hooves of wild deer rushing through the forest.

Trees grounding from added weight and tumbling to the ground. Underbrush being ripped from it roots.

It last for many seconds until it quiets. Unsettling silence. The paranoia ticks in Mauves brain. This is different. Unwelcome.

Until something breaks the silence. Branches snapping, leaves rustling against something large. It breaks the tree line.

A wolf. A very large wolf.

It's almost comical in size. She's watched enough animal planet in her time to know that wolves are larger than dogs, but certainly not this large. It's towering over her, it's shoulders above her five foot six inch head. At almost 15 yards away and separated by a fence, a thrill of horror still bites down Mauves spine.

This cannot be real.

It sniffs the air, it's heavy claws tearing the grass beneath it. She sucks in a slow breathe, her mind entering fight or flight.

Slowly backing up, cautiously, to the kitchen door. She stumbles, mistaking the number of steps, and brushes against the gnome on the bricks. Sending it toppling over, clattering to the ground. Splintering into tiny pieces as the wolfs head snaps in her direction.

It's hackles raised, teeth bared. As Mauve wrenches open the door, throwing herself inside, this beast takes into a full sprint, crossing the distance in seconds before slamming itself into the invisible barrier.

She watches from the window as it tries again and again to slip past some magical force just feet away from her fence that would've been just a step to this monster.

Still staring outside, Mauve wonders why she seemingly recognizes it. She wonders why a random wolf would seem so familiar.

When it stops and breathes heavily for a few moments, it's pounding breathes slowing as it sits, turned to face the window she occupies, that she realizes.

Electric yellow eyes meeting her stormy blue.

She knows those eyes.

[orlissa]

I was tagged by both the darling @jomiddlemarch and @aloveforjaneausten

Favourite colour: Soft pinks and lilacs and mauves

Last song: This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things by Taylor Swift

Last movie: Depends on how we classify movie? :D I'm currently binging Downton Abbey (see the next point), and their Christmas specials are 1,5 hours long. If that counts as a movie, then my last one is the series 3 Cristmas special (the one in which Matthew dies). If not, then I saw Haunting in Venice (it was so good!) on Wednesday at the cinema.

Currently watching: So, yeah, I'm binging Downton Abbey (it's been a few years since I saw it), and started Only Murders in the Building a little while ago. I just started season 2, but now I have force myself to watch it, because I really don't like Cara Delevingne.

Other stuff I watched this year: Beyond my usual shows... I binged ER earlier this summer, watched House of Dragon and the new season of Miracle Workers, rewatched The Golden Girls... I can't think of anything else of note

Shows I dropped this year: Well, I decided not to watch the new season of Shadow and Bone (my poor heart couldn't take it), and said a (more-or-less) tearful goodbey to most of my medical shows. I stopped watching Grey's Anatomy sometime after Alex left, then I binged the rest before the new season started, but that only held my interest for two episodes. As much as I loved The Resident in the beginning, it became so... meh by the end, and skipped the last few episodes (then it got cancelled). And I stopped watching The Good Doctor about halfway through this last season, but I might pick it up again.

Currently reading: I'm about halfway through The Weaver and the Witch Queen by Genevieve Gornichec - it's a female-led Viking age, history-based fantasy, and I'm liking it very much so far. And I'm also participating in the annual day-by-day reread of A Discovery of Witches this year.

Tagging @catleen9 @polikszena @agentramsey @menatiera @cpt-winniethepooh

[jokerislandgirl32]

Miracle: A Wild Violet Story

Hello all, and Happy Mother’s Day! I am working on a new angst filled Ziolet Mother’s Day fic, but I’m bawling my eyes out in the process, so it might not be out today (I love angst, but why is it so angsty!). So…I wanted to repost my current Ziolet Mother’s Day story Miracle!

The cover image, summary, and links to the story on the fanfic sites it is posted to can be found below. Please read the beginning of each chapter carefully, as all TWs for a chapter are included in the author’s notes at the beginning of said chapter. In general: The major TWs to note are angst, loss of family members, descriptions of Christianity, rituals, and prayer, surgery mention, near death mention, mild language, kissing/hugging, and one mild nsfw reference.

Story Summary: Zach and Violet Varmitech have become parents to a lively young daughter, Varina Virginia Varmitech. The family travels to Violet's hometown of Manteo in the Outer Banks of North Carolina to celebrate her first Mother's Day. As the events of the day unfold, memories of Zach's first Father's Day nearly a year before grip the couple. The realization that Varina's life hung in the balance the previous year, and that this will be Violet's first Mother's Day back home, without her mother, rocks Violet to her core. But Zach, who's made the decision to better himself in life, helps his wife confront her demons and enjoy her first Mother's Day with him and their daughter.

Selfship Taglist Below Cut! Reach out if you’d like to be added/removed!

@snailchans-imaginarium @crunch-crunch-eat-a-bunch @changingcore @bitchywitchheart @stoatsapphic @3qu1us-main @fomybeloved @benreillyswife @creativegenius22 @genderqueer-bithing @serenitytodd1234 @mailiow @celestetheseaunicorn @barnesncavill @mayixxxmoon @gui-mauves @evander2511 @bat-anon @bejewled-wahlberg @mouschirambles

[belladoesmakeup]

Hi guys,

Let's chat about one viral product today everyone is obsessed and loving at the moment (including myself). Today is all about the Rare Beauty Soft Pinch Tinted Lip Oils, £20.00. Now I know what you're thinking, Bella these have been out for a while? You would be correct however I never expected it to be so hard to get hold of the lip oils! I have been stalking my local Space NK store for a month to get the shades I wanted, now I finally have them so we can finally chat about the shades in more detail.

Let's go through the shades I picked up:

Happy - Cool Pink (top left)

Hope - Nude Mauve (top right)

Joy - Muted Peach (bottom left)

Serenity - Warm Rose ( bottom right)

Now if you have no idea what this viral product is let me fill you in. The Soft Pinch Tinted Lip Oils are lip products that have a unique gel formula that transforms on contact into a tinted oil for the comfiest kiss of color and shine your lips have ever felt. The formula is non-sticky and can easily be layered up to go from a soft wash of colour to a more intense pigment. Unlike other lip oils it also gently plumps lips for a fuller, healthier-looking pout in seconds, it's crazy because it plumps your lips without the stinging feeling we all hate.

I adore these lip oils because they are truly unlike anything I have ever tried before and what makes them the most unique to me is the tinted colour it leaves on your lips as the oil fades. I tend to forget to reapply lipstick throughout the day so having a product that actually leaves a tint of colour on my lips as it fades is a makeup miracle to me! Now I have linked the lip oils above but if you're looking to pick up a shade or two I would start looking asap because they sell out like crazy all the time.

Lots of love

Bella x x

[augment-techs]

So I had an idea. Maybe Bulk and Skull have a secret meet spot in the World of the Coinless universe. It can be something fun like an arcade or maybe even a roller skating rink, and it brings up nostalgic memories of the past. If you want an extra punch, it can be something along the lines of "This is the last place I ever saw them genuinely smile." 👁️👁️

Twelve dead rabbits, a hundred chicken eggs of a dozen or more colors, six jars of honey, and some medicine for a variety of ailments that could have been brought to heel with the snap of fingers before everything went wrong.

In the dark of the roller rink that had been swallowed underground in one of the tremors similar to earthquakes when Rita set her monsters on the Rangers for the last time, they looked for all intents and purpose like the harvest of scurrying goblins, the theatrical pilfering of small dragons, or a small miracle of faerie for Bulk to stumble upon.

But...no. 

Once his eyes got used to the darkness only lightened by a kerosene lamp near the entrance he always came through--the window scraped and empty of glass for years now, covered and blocked by weeds and ivy and what little of nature that was stronger than the decay and rot--that was only lit during these meetings at the new moon, Bulk saw the hunched figure beside the offerings.

While time and training and growing into his role had given Bulk all the trappings and appearance of a slightly more svelte bear on two legs, Skull himself had only grown taller and thicker by degrees of the season. He had strong shoulders for carrying the world, yes, but whenever he was wrapped up around himself in the dark like this, Bulk could not help but think of that little boy he'd found crying alone in a park over a decade ago.

Not that Skull cried anymore. Not that Bulk had seen.

Can't cry when your emotions are frozen under a lake in what the Coinless assumed was a gussied up Hell that passed for a palace. Can't show emotions when you're trying to play a game with rules that only just held still but were always changing to the will of a psychopath.

Loping over to the figure that did not move but absolutely knew he was there, Bulk stood before him a moment to fish around inside his heavy coat's deep pocket, pulling out a threadbare mauve handkerchief wrapped tightly around the gift he'd brought along for this meetup.

It would have been nice to bring, more, with all the spoils Skull brought the Coinless like a magician's magician, but he also didn't want to upset Skull when he knew--like he always knew everything since undertaking...all of this--that they really couldn't afford to give him much of anything. Not in the winter, not in the summer, not even when it seemed as if food was in abundance in their underground hideouts where they had taken up proper farming and could almost seem to get away with the leavings.

There was too much risk; even if he was always hungry in some way.

Even though he would never feel hungry. Not in the way most people did.

Bulk sighed and thumped heavily down to take a seat beside his best friend, unwrapping the food he'd brought to split, and trying to smile like they were kids again instead of young men nearing their thirties that felt older than that by far.

"Hey, I brought a knish some of my girls made for their favorite uncle. It's mushroom, potato, and pork," he singsonged, breaking the filled bun in two and holding the bigger half out to Skull expectantly as he nibbled up a mushroom trying to break free from his own, "And it's still warm buddy, c'mon."

It took a moment, but the other did move from pressing his face to his knees, arms unwrapping and one leg stretching out so he could still perch his chin up without much effort.

He tried to smile as he took up the offering, but it wasn't nearly as convincing as like when the memory of the place they stood in was awake and alive, all light and music and the laughter of a hundred odd teenagers spinning around in circles underneath a mirror ball without a thought to school or parents; only nibbling on the varied fair behind the stalls, sipping soda they weren't allowed to take out onto the court when it had been polished smooth as glass.

Also there was a cluster of bruises and cuts across the brunt of the left side of his face, darker bruising along the side of his neck in the obvious shape of a hand. His bottom lip was split, so the half-hearted smile couldn't stretch and Bulk suddenly doubted adding so much salt to the meal was such a good idea.

"Would one of those girls be my little goddaughter? You did say you were finally letting her do the baking without supervision."

[colorbar1]

How to Choose the Right Cosmetics Based on Your Age and Skin Type

Choosing the right cosmetics can be a game-changer, especially when you consider your skin type and age. For Indian women, this choice becomes even more significant because of their diverse skin tones and climate conditions that often require specialised care. The right cosmetics products not only enhance beauty but also ensure skin health, no matter your age. So, how do you navigate through the endless options? Let’s simplify it for you!

Understanding Different Skin Types

Before diving into age-appropriate products, understanding different skin types is key. The wrong products can result in irritation, clogged pores, or an uneven look. Here’s how to identify what works for your skin:

Oily Skin: If your skin feels oily or greasy, opt for matte-finish, lightweight, and oil-free products. Powder foundations, oil-control primers, and setting powders are great for controlling shine.

Dry Skin: Dry skin often feels tight or flaky. Choose hydrating and creamy products like liquid foundations, cream blushes, and lipsticks enriched with nourishing ingredients such as shea butter or hyaluronic acid.

Combination Skin: If your skin is oily in some areas and dry in others, you need a balanced approach. Go for lightweight, semi-matte products. Use a hydrating primer for dry areas and oil-control products for your T-zone.

Sensitive Skin: Sensitive skin requires extra care. Opt for fragrance-free, and hypoallergenic, products that are dermatologically tested. Avoid cosmetics with alcohol, parabens, or strong fragrances to prevent irritation.

Age-Wise Cosmetic Choices

Skin evolves with age, and so should the makeup. Here’s how you can choose beauty cosmetics that complement your skin’s needs at every stage:

In Your 20s

20s for women are the perfect time to focus on a natural, youthful look.

Light and Minimal Makeup: Opt for BB creams, tinted moisturizers, or lightweight foundations to let your skin breathe.

SPF is Non-Negotiable: Incorporate products with built-in sun protection to prevent early signs of aging. You can either choose sunscreens or makeup products that include SPF in their formulation.

Bright and Fresh Colors: Go for soft pinks, peaches, or subtle nude tones for lips and cheeks to achieve a fresh-faced glow.

Product Recommendation for your 20s:

BB cream - Perfect Match Beauty Balm

Tinted moisturisers - Miracle Glow Moisturiser

Lip Color - Sinful Matte Lipcolor - Luxe Collection (stripped)

Lightweight foundations - 24Hrs Weightless Liquid Foundation

Sun Protection - Face the Sun Broad Spectrum Daily Face Protector

In Your 30s

As your skin starts showing early signs of aging, choose products that enhance and care for your skin simultaneously.

Makeup with Skincare Benefits: Look for foundations, concealers, and primers infused with anti-aging ingredients like Vitamin C, hyaluronic acid, or collagen.

Focus on Coverage: A medium-coverage foundation can smooth out uneven skin tone or fine lines.

Soft Eyes and Defined Lips: Use neutral shades for eyes and lip colors like deep nudes or mauves for a polished look.

Product Recommendation for your 30s:

Primer - Perfect Match Primer

Eyeshadow - Fairytale Eye Shadow

Concealers - Starry Drops Highlighter

Lip color - Starry Flip Lipcolor  (Pout Perfect shade)

In Your 40s and Beyond

Mature skin requires hydrating and illuminating products to restore radiance.

Hydrating Formulas: Avoid heavy, cakey products. Go for satin-finish foundations and creamy concealers to keep your skin looking dewy.

Primer is Your Best Friend: A good primer smooths fine lines and provides a base for makeup that lasts longer.

Radiant Colors: Choose deeper, richer tones for lips and cheeks, like berry, rose, or plum shades, to add warmth to your face.

Product Recommendation for your 40s:

Primer - Flawless Finish Primer

Blush - Sinful Blush Liquid Wand

Highlighter - Sinful Glow Highlighter Wand

These were different types of cosmetics for different age groups. Now let’s have a look at some of the best tips that will help you choose the right product.

Key Tips for Choosing the Right Products

Always Perform a Patch-Test: Indian skin can be prone to sensitivities due to environmental conditions. Test Indian cosmetic products on your wrist or jawline before use.

Warm Undertones Work Best: Most Indian skin tones have warm or neutral undertones. Choose shades with golden, yellow, or peachy hues to complement your look.

Read the Ingredients: Avoid products with harmful ingredients like alcohol, parabens, or synthetic fragrances, especially if you have sensitive skin.

Skincare First: No matter your age, healthy skin is the key to flawless makeup. Follow a proper skincare routine to prep your skin before applying cosmetics.

Conclusion

Choosing the right cosmetics tailored to an individual's skin type and age doesn’t have to be complicated. From a minimal, natural look in your 20s to hydrating, radiant makeup in your 40s, the right choices can help you look and feel confident at every stage of life. Remember, makeup isn’t about covering up; it’s about enhancing your natural beauty. When you embrace your age and skin type, every look becomes timeless.

If you are looking to buy the best cosmetic products, look no further than one of the top 3 cosmetic brands in India. Colorbar has vegan and clean cosmetic products for everyone, irrespective of your skin type and age. Their collection includes eye, nail, lips, and face makeup products along with skin care products. Shop Now.

[vangoggles]

my long beautiful natural nails broke at the base and i am devastated. i guess now that they're short i can do this obnoxious shade of chartreuse (sally hansen xtreme wear in subway surfer) that would have been too much when they were long. or maybe i'll just go back to black. i think my new regular shade will be sally hansen miracle gel in shock & mauve, which on me is a very demure & very mindful pale pinky nude

[ongshat]

The Mauve Zone #009 - The Media v Miracles, the Horror of Nature, and Cosmic Transmissions.

***Begin transmission Joseph Matheny, David Metcalfe, and Ken Eakins send you transmissions from the Mauve Zone. David’s ‘Scars of Dracula’ T, Amicus v Hammer, Robert Bloch and HP Lovecraft, Cosmic transmissions, the horror of nature, Music by Simon Smerdon Transmission ends***

[sweetish-original-story]

Chapter 15

"Good morning, Samuela Mia Giovanni, of Hous Giovanni. It is 7:30 AM. The date is Freiday, 12 of Frust 7735. The weather will be 73°, with a 30% chance of-"

Sammy awoke to the sound of digital wind chimes and the smell of citrus misting through the air. It was a part of her morning routine, her mother ordered scented misters in her room when it was being built because she believed vitamin c had a "focusing essence". Sammy didn't exactly ask for this or give her permission to have even more construction on her part of the home, but she didn't exactly ask to be born either.

She lifted herself from the bath, only slightly wrinkled due to the time she spent in the miracle water, to find that her body suddenly felt weighed hundreds of pounds. She tried to stretch her arms out into the sky and they nearly buckled under her own stiffness. She ached and groaned until she slid out like a wet oyster onto the floor. Too exhausted to stand, she blindly crawled to the closet in the corner and dried herself off which the first bit of terrycloth that collapsed onto her from the overfilled thing.

She was bombarded with the feeling of ice against her skin. This place really does get cold at night. She scooted like a worm through dirt towards the laundry hamper her maids put out during their last work day, and pulled out the same old sleeveless slip she had been wearing since middle school. She certainly should let them wash it, considering the fact that shes worn it around the house for 2 weeks straight. Nevertheless, the only one who really cares has probably gone off to yet another gala to celebrate yet another one of her empty, stolen accomplishments.

She threw on the slip and sat for a moment, slowly running her fingers along the sides of the newly damp, stained dress. The colour of the thin silk was a bright blush pink when it was tailored, but over the years had stained and darkened into a muted mauve with uneven patches of grey and mustard.

The bright blue feathers that once adorned it's hemline we're now falling out in chunks, crunchy and dry and stained like road kill. The bits of loose thread where the rhinestones used to be had become bare craters, like memories of what once was. Even the elastic barely had a grip anymore from her constant weight gain and loss with every single new diet her mother suggested.

Though today, it seemed to stay on for whatever reason.

Her throat felt like it would close when she realized how noticable it was. She knew what would happen if she kept this up, and it made her gaunt hands tremble. Her head hurt. Her stomach felt sick. She felt like she was once again falling into a spiral of lust and pain and vertigo. She would have to eat breakfast at some point.

"Good morning, Samuela Mia Giovanni, of Hous Giovanni. It is 8:25 AM. The date is Freiday, 12 of Frust 7735. Your schedule for today is-"