#michael fic week

[someprettyname]

HI HI HI i cant stop thinking about your kaiser hc about calling him different things in bed. this man makes me absolutely feral omg

ehehe you mean this?

okay I'm so sorry for the late reply I was really excited about replying to this but then I saved it in my drafts and accidentally forgot 😭

WELCOME TO THE KAISER BRAINROT HELL NON-NON 😈

Oh my god i haven't written smut before i'm so shy right now I hope it's good

[ Minors be responsible and DNI, I'm not responsible if you do. ]

i didn't mention too much of what I was thinking when I typed it back then but I had a feeling you know?

Your legs were thrown over his shoulders and face scrunched up in pleasure, sparks shooting through you with each thrust. Your lips swollen with how much you had bit them, how long have you both been going at it now? You've lost the track of time and yet somehow his thrusts keep getting stronger. Faster. Rougher. Your eyes fly open with a particularly sharp thrust and the sight above you makes you gasp, his face was flushed and eyebrows thread together. Fuck. He looked so hot. You feel a familiar coil in the pit of your belly. You whine, your head falling back on the pillow. You grip the sheets to ground yourself, but to no avail.

"Mi- michael i-"

"Kaiser." He growls.

Your eyes are met with sharp azure ones the moment they fly open. He leans forward, gripping your chin, harshly so.

"Say it." His voice so deep and husky, pupils so blown it makes you shiver and gasp. "Who am I?"

"Kaiser." You moan out without a question, who were you to question your emperor anyways?

"Kaiser i'm... i-"

"Good." He cuts you off with a particularly hard thrust, capturing your lips in a sloppy kiss. "Let go, schatz. Make a mess."

He buries his head in the crook of your neck, grunting as your familiar scent envelops his senses - his thrusts slow and deliberate. This is how he expressed it, he might not be the best with words but he was determined to make you feel his love. The exact love which makes him feel warm and fuzzy in his chest. He had never felt it before, but it felt so good. So humane. Hence, he was determined to make you feel so good you can't take it.

He presses soft yet firm kisses on your neck, making you shiver and whine, your back arching against his chest.

"Kaiser..." you whine, nails clawing at his back as you pull him more into you wanting to feel more of his skin on yours. He groans as you do, pulling away enough to take your lips in a brief kiss.

"Shh," he presses another kiss on your jaw, fingers threading through your hair. The tenderness in his words betraying the roughness in his voice, "it's Michael, liebe." Because right now, in this moment, he was Michael. His bare heart pulled out and laid in front of you for you to take care of and love.

You whine, biting your lips. You knew what that meant, and it didn't help with the shiver that ran up your spine. Damn it. This man will drive you crazy one day. Your grip on him tightens, "Michael!! Fuck, please don't stop!!" You moan.

He smiles, nibbling on your ears "Good girl."

[ divider from @/cafekitsune ]

a/n : alright. It's decent. I think? If it's not, pardon. It's my first ever attempt at smut. I'll go pass out now OMG. 😭🙏🏻

[lostloveletters]

“What happened to your first wife?” Her curiosity was slaughtered the moment she asked. Looking into his eyes suddenly felt like being dragged to the second circle of hell. (Bruised Fruit, Chapter 7)

Thank you so much @cheesy-cryptid for your incredible work on this! You captured the gothic horror vibes perfectly and really brought Michael and Gloria to life🖤

[robyn-i-guess]

“It’s your turn to make dinner.” with Gerry & Michael Distortion

"I am not cooking tonight."

Gerry huffs and collapses onto his couch.

"What a greeting," Michael responds, its voice annoyingly cheerful as it always seemed to be. The door that was not there before removes itself, leaving just Michael, Gerry, and the dizzying feeling Michael tends to emit.

"Seriously though," he responds, "I couldn't. I'll burn the place down."

"Oh, don't doubt your talent!" It smiles. "I bet you'll make it combust!"

Gerry sighs of exhaustion, grabbing the cheap slushy that he had gotten in his way back from the Institute.

"Why don't you get that – what do you call it? Where the little people bring you your dinner?" Michael sits on the other side of the couch from Gerry, causing a headache to form as its presence usually does.

"Doordash? No, nothings open. It's 1am, Michael."

"I'm open!"

Gerry chokes on his drink. "You're fucking what?"

"I can deliver you the food!" It smiled like it had no clue what it just said. Did it know? Gerry didn't have the energy to pinpoint that.

"From where? Everything is closed."

"The kitchen!" The smile twists in a weird way. Is it meant to be excitement? Does Michael feel excitement? Too many questions lay unanswered.

"Fine, whatever. It's your turn to cook then. Go ham." Gerry pulls a throw blanket over him, trying his hardest to push away the growing migraine was threatening tonight's sleep. The buzzing in his head (that he didn't realize was there) disappears, a sign of Michael leaving his side.

5 minutes later comes a smell from the small kitchen that can only be described as painfully sour candy.

The next minute it's warm both in scent and temperature. Gerry questions just for a moment in his sleep riddled mind of the house is on fire, before remembering fire alarms exist. Michael could turn them off, but it wouldn't. He thinks.

Then there's sizzling, maybe popping, maybe boiling. The sound is hard to pinpoint, but it's certainly a cooking sound.

Then 30 minutes of silence. Nothing. Gerry knows Michael isn't gone because he can feel it look at him. Was it even 30 minutes?Maybe that's all it was doing. Maybe the exhaustion was getting to him.

On his shoulder came a gentle tap with what felt like a knife. If not for the jacket be wore, it might've cut or punctured the skin. Gerry pulls the blanket off and in front of him is – as he expected – Michael, with its usual shit eating grin.

"Wakey wakey!" It squeaks, holding a plate that curved weirdly into a bowl that Gerry knew he didn't own, but he does now, he supposes.

In it is certainly... food. It is like if an artificial intelligence was told to create what it thought food was; sure, it resembles something edible, but what it was couldn't be pinpointed. Are those noodles? Is that sauce or the color of something cooked? What plant is that? The answer is none of the above, it is not anything, it's simply food.

It tasted like ramen.

Apparently, Michael just had fun with instant ramen.

Whatever keeps it entertained.

[spacebabesuki]

She looks just like a dream 🎃 — Hellcheer Week Day 13

Eddie Munson is a loser who only goes to the Halloween party to sell drugs to the rich, stupid kids. He’s never actually invited, but he shows up anyway, wearing his Michael Myers mask just to hide his face while he sells his stuff.

But then…he freezes, hands shaking, unable to explain it, his heart pounding as if he’d inhaled tons of cocaine. He never expected to see her at the party—the angel. Yes, she’s dressed as an angel.

She…she…she looks just like a dream. Glitter on her face, a halo, angel wings, that long strawberry-blonde hair, and a white dress that hits him like a bullet. And of course, her signature blue eyeshadow, matching the color of her eyes.

He can’t even blink, watching her dance inside the party…her…The girl he’s been in love with (read: obsessed with) for over five years: Chrissy Cunningham.

And tonight, well, tonight is going to change his life forever. Because it’s October, it’s Halloween, and everything happens for a reason.

“So, who are you dressed up as?” “Michael Myers.” “Oh, that Halloween scary guy,” she says, her sweet voice in his ear like a drug. “And you?” “I’m an angel!” “Yes, you are...you are..."

Oh fuck...

Eddie Munson | Chrissy Cunningham | Hellcheer Week 2024 | Halloween Party - Day 13 @hellcheerweek

[ashfae]

Eden

(No spoilers for season two in here, promise) One of the most interesting parts of getting to visit the Good Omens set was talking with set designer Michael Ralph. Mostly it was about the bookshop, but he also talked about back before season 1 was done and he was first envisioning and drawing the concept art for everything. His image of the Garden of Eden was that it would be behind walls, obviously, and that outside those walls would be a vast desert.

And that in that desert were the remains of the first attempts of building other Edens. Failed prototypes now left to turn to ruins.

I think about that a lot now. About what might have been in the other Edens, what was left when they were abandoned.

[bellaxgiornata]

Whatever You Want

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: You've been having a difficult year adjusting to your life in Dublin, struggling with a few things that you've kept hidden from Michael so as not to burden him further. Though when he comes home unexpectedly early from a family meeting, you realize he's been reading you better than you'd thought.

Warnings/Tags: light angst, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, soft Michael

a/n: Just a short little comfort fic to wrap up my Comfort Fic Week! Always love me a soft Mikey. Feedback is always appreciated!

Grabbing one of Michael’s shirts from the laundry basket on the bed next to you, you proceeded to fold it, your eyes staring absently out of the bedroom window beside the bed. The sky was overcast today, gray clouds hanging low despite the fact that it wasn’t supposed to rain this morning. Somehow it seemed like the weather was reflecting your mood–or maybe amplifying it. 

Hands moving of their own accord, you neatly stacked the now folded shirt on top of the pile of Michael’s other shirts before reaching into the laundry basket and removing another one to fold. Your hands continued to move mechanically as you worked, folding clothing item after clothing item as you removed each one from the basket. 

Inevitably your mind began to wander.

Michael had already been gone by the time you'd awoken this morning. He had yet another family meeting to attend early today despite the fact that it was now Sunday. He'd been busy this entire past week taking care of a 'problem' with the family's supplier before spending the rest of the week cleaning up some issues on the business end of things. You’d barely seen him for days now, which wasn’t the usual between the two of you. And although he’d been excited to see you the handful of times you’d both run into each other at home this week, you had been distant. 

Admittedly you’d been struggling for this entire past year that you’d officially been living in Dublin. Struggling under the weight of your own family issues that you often kept from Michael–because he already had enough problems to deal with when it came to his family. You’d also been struggling under the pressures of things at work, forced into playing the mediator between the two owners of your company who fought with each other like actual children on a near daily basis. It had been wearing on you for months now, but you yet again never revealed any of this to Michael. He was busy enough as it was, and even though he was nothing but loving and attentive to you when he was home, you knew he had enough on his mind to worry about. So you always greeted him with a smile when you two were together, choosing to shove everything down, down, down until you couldn’t feel it for a bit.

But truthfully? You felt like you were drowning. You missed your family now that you were living abroad in Ireland so you could be with Michael; a feat accomplished with the help of his family–the one good thing they had managed to accomplish for you both when they had fast tracked your visa. But all the health complications back home had you missing your family even more. And you had quickly begun to hate your job with a passion ever since the owners had begun to bicker and fight, leaving you to solve the company's problems. And the office work you were doing wasn't even remotely your dream job, but you knew it wasn't realistic for you to quit just to pursue a dream.

The sound of the front door opening and closing downstairs met your ears, causing your hands to momentarily pause their movements, the shirt partially folded in between them. You could hear the sound of Michael downstairs, opening the closet door and putting away his jacket and shoes. Brows furrowing together, you wondered why he was home so soon.

“Where ya at, love?”

Michael’s voice rang out through the house, the sound of it drowning out the noise in your head–for now. Stacking another shirt of his onto the pile, you turned over your shoulder and called back to him.

“Upstairs, Mikey. Just doing the laundry.”

You grabbed another pair of jeans from the basket, hearing the heavy and tired footfalls of Michael as he made his way up the stairs. As you sorted the pair of pants in your hands with the others, leaning across the bed to reach the pile, you heard Michael making his way across the bedroom before you felt him come up behind you. His arms were soon wrapping around your waist, his nose brushing back and forth against the side of your neck as he let out a pleased hum. 

“Missed ya, pet,” he murmured.

Straightening back up, your hands landed on his forearms, giving them a gentle squeeze before you unwrapped them from around you. You felt the way Michael stiffened against the back of you, his face soon drawing away from your neck. Glancing over your shoulder at him, you sent him a brief, tense smile. He took a step back, his eyes narrowing as he studied you.

“Wasn’t expecting to see you back this morning,” you said, turning back towards the bed and reaching a hand into the basket, pulling out another piece of clothing to fold. “The meeting go alright?”

“Yeah, it was grand,” Michael answered distractedly. “Ya alright, love?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed out. “Just trying to catch up on laundry. Figured you’d be gone most of the day. Knew you were low on fresh clothes with how busy you’ve been this week. Thought I’d take care of it for you today.”

“Pet, ya know I could’ve done the laundry myself later today,” he told you.

You neatly stacked yet another one of his shirts onto the pile beside you, nodding as you reached your hand into the basket. You drew out the last piece of clothing, about to fold it, but Michael pulled the pair of pants from your hands. 

“Hey, stop,” he said softly, catching your eye. “Is somethin’ wrong? Ya haven’t been acting like yourself all week.”

You bit back the urge to point out that he hadn’t actually seen you much this past week. Instead, you sent him another tense smile.

“I’m fine, Mikey,” you said, gesturing to the pants in his hands. “Now can I finish the laundry? I’ve got other things to take care of today.”

Michael drew the pants out of your reach, his dark brows knitting together. His lips thinned along his face as concern washed over his features.

“What other things have ya got to take care of?” he asked.

You sighed in irritation, crossing your arms over your chest in annoyance with how he was slowing down your list of chores and errands for the day. Michael certainly helped out with many things around the house, but usually when the Kinsellas came to him to solve a plethora of problems for them, you were left to pick up the slack. Which is exactly what had happened this week on top of everything else you’d been silently dealing with.

“The house needs to be cleaned, Mikey,” you pointed out. “And the kitchen is an absolute disaster. I haven’t even managed to finish working my way through all of the dishes from the other night when Jimmy and Viking decided to eat every last damned thing in the house. Which also means I need to pick up groceries from the market still, and I haven’t even had a chance to sit down to make the list. Not to mention, I still have another two loads of laundry to take care of, so can you please just let me finish?”

A frown pulled the corners of Michael’s lips down, his hazel eyes softening as they held yours. A second later he expelled a rough breath, his shoulders dropping at the movement. When he tossed the unfolded pair of pants onto the bed, your eyes widened in shock. Your mouth opened, ready to chastise him for being so uncharacteristically callous, but he’d so tenderly grabbed your hands and drew you towards himself that the gesture quickly left you stunned and speechless. All you could do was stare in confusion at him as he drew you into himself.

“Forget ‘bout all o' that today,” he told you. “I’ll handle it tomorrow. All of it, I promise.”

“But don’t you have things you need to do?” you asked.

Michael wrapped his arms around your shoulders, one of his hands gently guiding your head to rest against his chest. Reluctantly you allowed it, though you were tense in his embrace, your body unable to relax. You really needed to get these things done because you didn’t feel like grabbing groceries at the market after work tomorrow. 

“I’ll take the day off,” he replied. “Handle everythin’ at home. Even have dinner ready for us when ya finish work. Yeah?”

“Mikey, don’t promise me something that you can’t follow through on,” you warned him. “I know how your family is. I know they’re going to–”

“Hey, shh,” he hushed you, one of his hands soothingly running up and down your back. “I’ll tell ‘em no. Not to bother me tomorrow. Doesn’t matter what they say. Ya deserve some help ‘round here. Been takin’ care of everythin’ this past week–everythin’ this past year, really. And I wanna show ya that I appreciate it, love.”

“It’s not a big deal, I can handle it,” you told him, the lie almost automatic.

You felt him shift above you, resting his cheek against the top of your head. His hand continued to soothingly run the length of your back over and over, the calming feel of it slowly easing the tension in your muscles. 

“I can tell ya have been stressed, pet,” Michael murmured. “Can see it on your face. Somethin’s been goin’ on with ya. It has me worried.”

Nervously your tongue slipped out, wetting your lips. You couldn’t believe he’d picked up on anything being off with you. You thought you’d been hiding everything from him so well. And you certainly didn’t need him worrying about you, too.

“I’m fine,” you whispered.

“Don’t lie to me,” Michael said, voice firm but not angry. “I know ya too well, love. I know ya aren’t alright.”

Turning your head, you buried your face into Michael’s chest, breathing in the scent of him. He smelled faintly like his leather jacket and gasoline, probably from riding his motorcycle this morning to the family meeting. Just beneath the scent of both of those you could smell the bit of his soap that always seemed to linger on his skin. It was something with sandalwood–you knew that because the nights he’d be out working a job and not coming home to you, you’d purposely shower with his soap. Just to feel like he was still there in bed with you. You couldn’t fall asleep otherwise. 

“Tell ya what,” Michael said, breaking the silence that had fallen. “How ‘bout I take ya for coffee this mornin’? Your favorite shop. Then we can visit that little bookstore ya love so much. The one just on the corner? I’ll buy ya whatever ya want.”

A small smile slipped onto your lips and you reluctantly withdrew your face from where it had been buried against Michael’s chest, his own head withdrawing itself from the top of yours. Looking up at him, he was smiling warmly down at you, his eyes full of affection and love.

“Yeah?” you asked him softly.

“Buy ya the whole damn store if ya want,” he said, tone light and teasing as he grinned back at you. “And ya know I would, love. ‘S’not like I don’t have the money.”

“Okay,” you answered slowly, your attention shifting back to the laundry on the bed. “As long as you really will have time to take care of everything tomorrow though. Because I have to–”

Michael’s hand gently cupping your cheek and turning your face back towards him quickly quieted you. That warm smile was back on his face, the brightness of it reaching his eyes.

“Go get ready,” he ordered. “I’ll finish the rest of this. And the other stuff I’ll do tomorrow. Promise. Forget ‘bout it already, yeah? Just go take a few minutes for yourself.” His smile briefly faltered as he nervously added, “Then maybe afterwards ya can tell me ‘bout what’s been goin’ on? Ya keep lockin’ me out, pet, and I really wish ya would let me in. I want to help.”

“You just–just always have so much going on, Mikey,” you told him softly. “You don’t need my shit, too.”

“Hey,” he said firmly, his eyes narrowing as he lowered his face towards yours. “It isn’t shit, ya hear me? Ya matter to me. More than ya know. Don’t brush yourself off when it comes to me, love, alright? Talk to me. I’m beggin’ ya.”

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you slowly nodded. “Okay,” you agreed. “Later, I will.”

“Good,” he replied, gesturing his head towards the bathroom as a smile curved his lips upwards. “Now get your adorable arse ready. ‘Cause I wanna spoil my girl today. I’ll take care of the rest o’ the laundry.”

Feeling giddy at the prospect of having a day to spend where it was just you and Michael, grabbing coffee and buying books, you spun on your heel without further encouragement, hurrying your way to the bathroom to get ready.

°•°•°•°•°•°

You hummed out a curious noise, skimming over the summary on the back of the book in your hands for the second time. Behind you, you heard Michael huff out an amused, light laugh. The sound caught your attention and you looked up from the back cover, eyeing Michael’s smiling face curiously from his place beside you. He held up the small stack of books in his hands, gesturing his head towards the one you were still holding.

“Add it to the pile, love,” he urged. “Ya know ya want to. I can see it on your face with the way you’re lookin’ at it.”

Rolling your eyes you held out the book, a grin on your lips as you added it onto the stack Michael was holding. He shot you a flirtatious wink that only had you grinning wider, but when your eyes landed on the clock on the wall behind him, the grin faded. Surprise washed over you instead, a pang of guilt hitting you instantly.

“Why didn’t you tell me we’d been here for over two hours already?” you exclaimed, wide eyes landing back on Michael. “I’m so sorry, Mikey. I didn’t mean to be here so long!”

Michael only laughed, shaking his head back at you. “Pet, I told ya this mornin’ like I told ya over coffee before we came here–take as much time here as ya want. Buy whatever ya want. I’ve seen how much ya have been workin’ your arse off at that office this year. I know ya haven’t been goin’ shoppin’ or out to dinners with your friends as much lately.” Something like guilt spread across his face as he continued. “And I–I know I haven’t been ‘round as much the past few months, what with everythin’ goin’ on with the family. But I wanna change that. Startin’ today. Besides,” he said, suddenly looking a little shy, “I could honestly spend my day watchin’ the way ya wander ‘round in a bookstore. The way your face lights up when ya find a book–" he paused, that shy smile still on his mouth directed at you, "–the only other time ya look like that is when you’re lookin’ at me," he finished softly. 

“Because you make me happy,” you told him, the grin returning to your lips.

“I know,” he replied with a nod.

“And coffee also makes me happy,” you added before gesturing a hand at the shelf beside you. “So do books. Best way to relieve stress is with a good book and some coffee.”

Michael chuckled, nodding his head even more as his own smile widened. "Exactly why I suggested gettin' coffee before buyin' books, love." 

The corner of his lips twitched before his expression changed to something serious, his lips thinning as he shifted his weight back and forth on his feet, looking like he wanted to say something else. You hadn’t missed the shift in his mood as you curiously eyed him in return, wondering what was now suddenly on his mind.

"How has work been?" he asked carefully. "Ya seem stressed more than usual lately. Been worried 'bout ya."

Expelling a sigh at the topic change, you turned and made your way out of the aisle of books you both were in, searching for another one in particular as you mulled over his question. Michael followed closely behind you, still carrying the stack of your books in his arms as he walked.

"It's been difficult this year," you admitted slowly, eyes scanning the aisles as you looked at the different genre signs hanging above them. "I can't stand it lately, if I'm being honest," you finally confessed. "My bosses literally bicker in every meeting I have with them and I'm always trapped playing their mediator, always left cleaning up the company problems they don’t even deal with." Hands curling into fists at your sides, you could feel your irritation returning at the thought of work tomorrow. "They don't even talk about work most of the time anymore, either. I swear, they're going to run their business into the ground if they keep it up."

"Then quit."

You abruptly stopped in front of the aisle you'd been looking for at his blunt suggestion.  Turning swiftly on your heel, you looked back at Michael in confusion and shock. 

" Quit ?" you asked him in disbelief. 

He shrugged easily. "Yeah," he answered. "Quit. You've always hated it there and now it's upsettin' ya. So quit. 'S'not like ya need the money. Ya know I'll take care of ya."

"Mikey," you said, pulling a face, "I'm not going to just sit at home and be some–" you waved a hand through the air, "–trophy wife. Or–or girlfriend or whatever," you awkwardly added when Michael’s smile grew at your word choice. "I like feeling productive."

"Your choice, love, but I happen to think ya would make a fine trophy wife," he playfully teased, shooting you another wink. "But ya know I've got ya. So quit. Find somethin' ya like. Because I know that's not what you're passionate 'bout."

With a huff you turned, focusing back on the aisle before you. You stepped into it, eyeing the books on the shelves as you looked for one in particular. 

"Say it like it's that easy," you muttered, eyes scanning the various titles.

"It is," Michael pressed. "Give 'em your notice tomorrow. Quit. Do what you're passionate about. Because I know you've been dying to do photography instead. And you're damn good at it, love. And I know ya been dyin' to work for yourself.”

Chewing your lip, you let his suggestion settle in your mind. He was right, you did want to do photography. You'd been talking about it since you'd first met him. And you had been dying to work for yourself, especially with how your bosses had been this past year. It would be nice to do something you were actually passionate about, and you did know that Michael would take care of you while you started up the business–he'd already told you he wanted to marry you. He certainly wasn’t planning to go anywhere.

You hummed out a noise, your hand reaching out and pulling the book you'd been looking for off of the shelf. "Alright," you told him, turning around and placing the book on the stack in his hands. "I'll quit tomorrow," you told him. "You're right, photography is my passion. And if you're going to push me–"

"I absolutely insist ya do, love," he cut you off.

"Alright," you repeated, nodding your head. "I'll do it."

Michael's smile grew even wider, the warmth of it reaching his eyes as they fondly gazed back at you. You couldn’t fight the smile on your own face knowing that you’d never get over how lucky you were to have met him–or how handsome he looked when he smiled at you like that. 

Eventually Michael's eyes curiously glanced down to the book you'd so quickly placed onto the pile he was carrying. A look of confusion crossed his face, brows drawing together as he looked back up at you.

"One Hundred Years of Solitude?" he asked.

"Yeah," you said, your smile turning cheeky as you made your way out of the aisle and over towards the register. "It's for you. About time you read something that wasn't a Steinbeck, babe."

[fight-nights-at-freddys]

do you think William also liked bad rom com shows, and that he used to watch them with Michael when they had a semi-better-not-really relationship? Michael used to criticize them saying that they are all cliche and boring, while William keeps insisting that he doesn’t know what fun is.

only for his father to die and all Michael does when coming home is watching those same rom coms, trying to get any trace of his normal life with his father again, despite the fact that the core piece is missing now

[pinkluver93]

Allie: (in Ovenist’s shop) Hi! Sorry to bother you again, but I need more bouquets please!

Ovenist: Sure no-

Dr. Keh:(barges in your shop with a picture of Godzilla destroying buildings and eating pizza) Ovenist, take a look. It appears that even Godzilla gets angry from your pizza!

Ovenist:(rolls eyes)

Allie:(to Keh) Papa Smurf! Can I get your autograph??

Keh:(sneers at Allie) Shouldn’t you be at school, you petulant little brat? Shoo!

Alicante(barges in Ovenist’s shop and faces Keh): What the heck did you say to my princess??!!

Ovenist:(hides in kitchen)

[lgbridgertonqa]

LGBridgerTonQA Week 2024

It's that time of year again - happy pride, Bridgerton fandom!

We invite you to join us from JULY 7TH - 13TH 2024, to celebrate all queer Bridgerton content, canon or not. For the third year in a row, all week long on our twitter we will be posting queer headcanons, fics, edits and art about all of our favourite Bridgerton characters, as well as posting fun activities for you to all join in the fun - and we would love nothing more than for you to be a part of it. Any creativity is welcome!

As part of our introduction to our theme this year, we received help in the following mysterious letter from Sir Philip Crane...

We invite you this year to be inspired by the language of love through flowers! And if you're looking for some inspiration through prompts, look no further: below is our daily schedule for characters, tropes, songs, themes, and most importantly flowers, to help inspire you to get involved somehow.

These are all obviously just a guide or a starting off point for anything you might want to create. If any characters you want to create something for aren’t featured, or you want to use a theme for a character on a different day - don’t let that limit you! Post as and when you please - just be sure to let us know with a tag or link of some kind so we can boost you!

Come join us in the garden - love is in bloom!

Important Links: - Our Twitter Account - Our About Us Page - Our ask box - Our Ao3 Collection for LGBridgerTonQA Week 2024 - Our Ao3 Collections from previous years and celebrations (Gay Week 2023, Gay Week 2022, Gay Bridgerween 2022 & LGBridgerTonQA Holiday Gift Fic Exchange 2023)

[bearbait-adventures]

RvB Pacific Rim AU: Day 3 @rvbrarepairweekdos

Where the AI are all Jaegars, and the Freelancers are all pilots.

Think about it. The inevitable closeness that comes from being inside someone else's head the compatibility testing. The potential for hurt of losing a partner.

Maybe Freelancer is experimenting with AI to remove the need for a second pilot, but it goes wrong. Maybe that's what happened to Washington. Epsilon ultimately failed and left the neural load all on Washington's brain, leaving him with brain damage and then removed from the program, demoted. Caboose is the only pilot on record for defeating a Kiaju while solo-piloting a Jaeger. At least, that's what the files said. Washington has read all of it. Most of it was redacted, however. It's probably a bunch of top secret nonsense anyway. Washington's convinced, though. If anyone can get him back in the cockpit again. It has to be Michael J. Caboose. Caboose at first glance, well he looks impressive. He's built like a tank, it got Washington's hopes up... And then Caboose spoke and any hopes Wash had in the man, died right there. At first anyway...

Washington is terrified, his training simulation has hit scarily close to home and his mind is spinning, spiraling, he can't make sense of it. He's chasing the rabbit in his own mind, what's left of Epsilon's memories leading him on a chase that never ends. he can vaguely make out someone talking to him people shouting orders around him, but it's like he's in a fishbowl. He can't make it out, it's just echoing sound. Nonsense. Something big, a body, a person moves everyone else away.

Initializing neural handshake. Handshake in 3... 2... 1. Washington hasn't drifted with another living person in a very long time. He usually chooses to train with "Sarah" the brain in a jar, she's less volatile no real or fresh emotions. So when the drift shifts to include this new person. There's a rush, like jumping out of a plane stomach swirling adrenaline as the two minds become one. And then it's calm. Suddenly. Everything is still. A wide ocean in front of him reflecting the moon and stars above. He can't explain it but he just 'knows' the ocean is deep and he 'knows' that it's covering something. Something that he should never uncover. A deep sorrow. Handshake Successful! 100% and holding. "Hello, Agent Washingtub." He feels the big man. He's covering him, he's protecting him. Relief floods his body like he's never felt before. like Caboose is holding the world up around him. "Hello, Caboose." Washington can feel the smile, He can feel how happy he just made Caboose with something as simple as a grateful hello. "You were... Chasing the bunny... You know... You shouldn't do that... You could scare it away." Caboose chides him in a way only he can. "I'm sorry, Caboose. I won't chase the rabbi- bunny again. And Caboose?" "Yes, Agent Washingtub?" "Thank you. Michael." "You are... Very welcome... David."

[babybirbb]

i need a young carmrichie fic where they get caught by mikey i need to know what y’all think he would do. i do think he would briefly beat the shit out of richie

[victorluvsalice]

Valicer Polyship Week 2024, Day Two: “Blorbo Has Two Hands” (Soulmate AU)

It's Day Two of Valicer Polyship Week 2024, "sponsored" by @polyshipweek, and today's prompt is "Blorbo Has Two Hands!" This prompt, as per PolyshipWeek's write-up on the matter, is all about "The rallying cry of polyshippers everywhere: Why have a love triangle when you can have a trio of lovers instead?" and how the polycule makes love, not war. This is naturally an excellent prompt, but I wasn't sure whether I was going to use it or one of the other ones when it came to writing a story for Day Two --

Aaaand then Wednesday, November 6th happened. And after rather a lot of time spent staring at the prompts with no inspiration because I was still feeling kind of numb inside over the fucking election results, I came back to the list right before going to bed, looked at "Blorbo Has Two Hands" again, and thought, "You know what, I can probably do something with that and my Soulmates AU -- specifically, someone doubting the trio are all actually soulmates because multiple soulmates isn't a common thing in that verse." So I drafted out a story about Smiler, working at a bar post-the trio fleeing England to avoid the wrath of Kelman, the wrath of Victor's parents, and possibly the wrath of the police after Alice killed Bumby, getting harassed by a customer who didn't believe them when they said that both they and Alice were Victor's soulmates -- only to get proven wrong when said soulmates showed up to find out why Smiler was suddenly feeling so upset. It was pretty rough, but I figured it worked for the prompt --

And then I went, "Hang on...didn't I just do something like this yesterday?" For indeed, this story was rather similar, at least in general theme, to the "Alice vs Nessa" Valicer In The Dark tale I wrote for Day One. But given my mental state at the time, I couldn't come up with anything better for Day Two. So I left it be and gave myself a choice -- either try to write a different story later, or lean into the theme and do a Victor-POV story of some jerk inserting their nose into the polycule's business and getting theirs for Day Three.

...given the story I'm about to present is the "Smiler gets harassed by a customer about whether or not multiple soulmates is a thing" story, you can probably guess what I chose. XD For now, here is your Day Two story! Sorry it took a bit to get there! XD

--

“So – Mister Van Dort over there is your soulmate?”

“Yup,” Smiler confirmed, smiling over at the table where Victor was currently involved in what looked like a rather intense conversation with Alice, his hands flying all over the place as they spoke. “We met at one of his parents’ parties – ended up in the same corner together, started commiserating over the fact that we both hated stuffy social gatherings, went to formally introduce ourselves by shaking hands, and – well.” Smiler grinned down at their own hands, currently drying a glass. “Suddenly the party was that much better.”

“I see,” their current customer – a fellow named Robert, who apparently ran a woodworking shop in town – murmured, nursing his third whiskey. “And Missus Van Dort is – all right with that?”

Smiler tilted their head. “Er – yes. Why wouldn’t she be?”

Robert raised an eyebrow at Smiler. “Because – she’s his wife?” he said slowly, as if they were an idiot. “And would likely want to be her husband’s soulmate?”

“Oh, there’s no problem there,” Smiler said brightly, putting away the dried glass. “She’s also his soulmate.”

Robert blinked at them. It was a pretty long blink. “What?”

“Alice is also Victor’s soulmate,” Smiler repeated obligingly. “We’ve got a bit of a thing going on.”

“You’re – but – that’s impossible,” Robert insisted, leaning heavily on the bar.

“It’s not,” Smiler said, mentally preparing their usual speech. “It’s rare, yes, but–”

“Balderdash,” Robert cut in, putting a finger in Smiler’s face. “People can only have the one soulmate. Otherwise, what’s the point of them?”

Now it was Smiler’s turn to blink. “What do you mean?”

“I’m talking about how the whole point of a soulmate is that they are the person that the universe has ordained as the most important one in your entire life,” Robert said, warming to his topic. “The relationship beyond which all others pale. The one twinned to the very center of your being! If you were given more than one, then – then it would cheapen that bond. Make it – make it lesser. It wouldn’t be about finding your perfect match – it would be about finding someone you just kind of like more than the rest. A person only has room in their soul for one soulmate. It’s simple fact.”

“It’s not,” Smiler insisted. “There’s been studies done on the bond, and–”

“Oh, studies,” Robert said derisively, grabbing his drink and taking a big swig. “Yes, everyone appreciates a study. As if any scientist really knows how to measure a soul.” He looked Smiler up and down. “And what do you know about studies? You’re a bartender.”

“My father’s an alienist,” Smiler said, wrinkling their nose against the bitter taste in their mouth produced by even obliquely mentioning Kelman. “And I study chemistry in my spare time. I’m not an idiot just because I pour drinks for a living.”

“No – you’re an idiot for letting your soulmate get married to someone else,” Robert retorted, attempting to poke Smiler’s arm – they jerked it out of the way just in time. “Shame on you for that. He’ll never be able to be a proper husband to his wife if you’ve already taken up that space in his soul! Everyone knows that people who have soulmates that are just friends have to remain single. It’s the natural order of things!” He took another drink. “Cruel of you both to lead that poor woman on. She should be off trying to find her actual soulmate, not being – taken advantage of by two horrible monsters like yourselves.”

Smiler opened their mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Closed it again. Where the hell were their words right when they needed them most? Alice had once said they could talk their way out of a murder scene while holding a bloody knife, and now they couldn’t refute one drunk?! One deeply annoying drunk who’d hit pretty much every nerve in their body, sure, but… “I...you…”

“Smiler?”

Smiler and Robert both looked over to see Victor and Alice approaching, wearing identical expressions of concern. “Is everything all right?” Victor continued, picking at the knot of his tie. “You – you feel quite upset about something.”

“Very deeply annoyed indeed,” Alice added, giving Robert a suspicious glare. He smartly shrank away. “Is this fellow bothering you?”

“Yes, but he might not be for much longer,” Smiler said, smirking. “You were saying about how people can only have one soulmate?”

Robert looked between the three of them, visibly processing the fact that Alice too had felt Smiler’s emotions. “I – but – she – you?” he stammered, clearly having trouble collecting his thoughts.

“All three of us,” Smiler said, leaning on the bar. “Two romantic bonds and one platonic one, and all very real. And even if we weren’t all soulmates – so what? I think Victor would still have enough love in him to handle both his wife and me.” They put on an innocent stare. “Unless you’re saying that nobody can care about anyone but their soulmate? Because that sounds like a pretty lonely and miserable life to me.”

Robert stared at them for a moment more. Then he reached into his pocket, plonked some coins on the bar, and fled out the door. The trio watched him stumble away on wobbly legs. “...so I guess he didn’t believe you when you told him we were all soulmates,” Victor finally said.

“He did not, and decided to give me a big old lecture about it,” Smiler said, scooping up the money and counting it. “Okay, good, this is what he owed...anyway, it was all about how ‘multiple soulmates cheapens the bond’ and ‘if your soulmate is your best friend you need to remain single’ and nonsense like that.” They shook their head as they put the money away. “Who comes up with those things?”

“Arses,” Alice said succinctly.

Victor and Smiler both snorted. “Well put,” Victor said, then laid a hand on Smiler’s wrist. “And for what it’s worth, I don’t feel at all that having both you and Alice as soulmates has cheapened anything. If anything I feel – I feel blessed. I had trouble believing sometimes when I was younger that I was worthy of one soulmate, let alone two.” A bright smile split his face. “And now look at me. Tied forever to the two most wonderful people in the world.”

Smiler beamed, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. “I feel exactly the same. Two bonds just means twice the love to spread around.”

“Well said,” Alice said, putting her hand over theirs. “Hopefully someday people will understand that better.”

“Mmm. Until then…” Smiler leaned in and gave Victor a quick peck, before shooting Alice a grin. “I’ll just enjoy what we’ve got.”

[ingravinoveritas]

NOT SOMEONE COMMENTING THIS ON GEORGIA'S POST, I'M--

[bridgertonbabe]

Colin seeks out Penelope for some advice in how to go about pleasuring a woman in bed to the best of his ability, much to her eternal chagrin. Reluctantly she provides him with some rather eye-opening pointers, which inadvertently causes Colin to see her in a brand new dazzling light...

[usercelestial]

thinking about colin going back to michaels house after they won the man city game and sweeping him up in the tightest hug and celebrating the win and his goal together thinking about colin being so so happy about how free he is cause his two lives have merged into one

[beastsovrevelation]

Our love is made of teeth, and it will rip us to shreds