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muchosbesitos · 7 months

Note

So like what if. WHAT IF. Miguel ends up lusting after a new recruit. BUT she's a tatted up goth girl with an intimidating aura. He wants to screw her with every fiber in him. COULD YOU IMAGINE. BIG OL MIGGY WANTING TO GO AFTER HER. can you make this into a fic. Please. I'm foaming at the mouth. I love your work ❤

the girl with the tattoo

pairing: miguel o’hara x spiderwoman reader

warnings: masturbating (m), stalking(?), fingering, protected p in v, doggy, use of toy, overall smut 🫡

author’s note: thank so much for this request and i’m sorry it took me so long 😭 i hope you enjoy <33

word count: 4.1k

Your life as the spider-woman from your dimension was fulfilling, but it felt empty sometimes. You couldn't maintain any friendships because of how busy your schedule was, as a physicist and having to save the city. You'd lost your boyfriend a couple months back after a brutal fight with the Green Goblin, and you couldn't bring yourself to date anyone else again just yet. So when Hobie, the guy with the cool piercings on his face and same powers as you, recruited you to the Spider Society, you couldn't help but be enchanted by the idea.

Miguel had spent a couple minutes staring into the monitors when you walked in through that portal with Hobie, ignoring LYLA giving him the debrief about their latest mission. He was captivated by everything about you: by the tattoos on your arms and legs, the ink running through your skin perfectly to make these tiny shapes to the exaggerated eye liner you had on. "MIGUEL!" LYLA yelled, snapping him out of his thoughts as he turned around to look at his assistant. "The new recruit's here, try not to drool so much on the way over," she said with a small giggle before disappearing. Miguel rolled his eyes as he got off the platform, rubbing the side of his lip just in case he actually was drooling.

You were in the middle of talking to Hobie, getting the introduction around the place (mostly just to avoid Miguel at all costs), when you felt someone behind you. "Who's this?" You heard someone ask, turning around to see a very tall man standing in front of you. Hobie appeared unfazed as he shrugged, crossing his arms as he looked up at the man. "Is the new recruit. Started to show her around 'fo you showed up," he responded and you couldn't help but feel the man's stare boring into you. "What did I say about bringing it new recruits?" the man hissed out, rubbing his temples as he asked. "Not to bring 'em. She's talented though, you just need to see her in action," he responded, before leaving the two of you alone.

You looked over at the man, stating your name and extending your hand out as you noticed his gaze go from the tattoo on your upper arm to your hand. "Miguel," he simply stated, shaking your hand as gently as he could, his large fingers engulfing yours. You looked around to see some of the other members in the society staring at you two, their gaze diverting when they saw you returning their stare. "Do you plan on saying something or do you just plan on looking like a scary vampire?" You asked after a couple seconds of silence from Miguel’s end, watching as his brows furrow, his gaze averting from yours. You could've sworn from the descriptions that Hobie gave you that he would've turned out to be more of an ass, but the man just looked plain intimidated.

You walk into the 'design room' as Miguel called it, where he would be designing your suit and making it. You looked up to see a couple examples on the wall and you couldn't help but feel a bit impressed at just how versatile he was with the suits. You took off the black sweater you had on, leaving you in a tee and skirt. If you would've looked closer, you would've noticed Miguel staring at your breasts, his gaze darkening as he saw the metal bar poking through. However, your attention was directed at LYLA as she asked you a bunch of questions about what type of design you were looking for and the material that you wanted.

"No, no spandex," Miguel spoke up after a while, the two of you turning to look at him. "And why not?" You asked, folding your arms as your brows furrowed. Because he was pretty sure his cock wouldn't survive it. "It's just a really restrictive material, really, you'll be able to move a lot more freely with the holographic suit," he replied, his gaze averting yours so you wouldn't catch on to his lie. You turned to look at LYLA, shrugging as you tell her to use the holographic material for the black suit you had in mind.

Miguel felt his cock strain underneath his suit with every passing moment in that room, watching as LYLA took your measurements. Everything about you was just captivating to him, from the numerous amount of tattoos on your body to the damn nipple piercings that would invade his waking thoughts from now on. He was fascinated by the intricate designs of your tattoos, all seeming to have their own special meaning. He wanted to ask you about them, what they all meant and symbolized to you, but he got the impression that you didn't like him all that much. He opened up his gizmo when he felt you turn around, not wanting to get caught staring as he typed a random message to Peter, asking him to join for lunch.

Somehow, the fact that you didn't like him turned him on even more. He was used to women throwing themselves at him and begging at his feet, but he never had the instance where he was the one being intimidated. He watched as LYLA handed you the gizmo, explaining how to use it and how to turn your suit on. His gaze travelled down your body as you turned on the suit, the material wrapping around your curves perfectly. Shock, he really couldn't catch a break. He bit down on his hand to prevent himself from saying something embarrassing, feeling his cock tighten up even more in his suit. You turned around and looked at Miguel, a pleased smile on your face after looking at yourself in the mirror. "What do you think, boss?" You asked, noticing that his eyes just wouldn't meet yours. "It looks decent," he muttered, getting up abruptly and stepping out of the room. "Rude," you muttered, wondering why you'd even bothered to ask him.

Miguel went back to his office, ignoring all the other Spiders who greeted him. He felt his cock straining painfully underneath his suit, his hand gently rubbing against it. He turned off LYLA's access to his office for the time being and turned the monitors to analyze the cameras for the room that you were in. He saw LYLA making some modifications to your suit, the holographic material hugging your ass perfectly. He let out a quiet "fuck" and deactivated his suit, his hardening cock hitting the side of his stomach.

He spread his legs on the chair, rubbing the precum that was spilling out of his red tip around his cock, using it as lube. He started off slow, tentative, as he wrapped his hand tightly around his cock. He knew that you would feel a thousand times better than this, that your cunt would feel like heaven to him, but he was too turned on to think properly. He gripped his desk as he started speeding up, his hips bucking up into his hand to find some pressure. His eyes zeroed in on your chest once more and he let out a pathetic whimper, wondering how it would feel to see his cum lathered on top of the piercings.

He tightened his grip around his cock, like he wanted to imitate how tight your cunt would feel around him, but a nagging voice in his mind told him that it wouldn't compare. He pushed that voice out of his head in a desperation to cum, to go back to focusing on his work. He heard his watch going off and remembered he was supposed to be giving a brief on a plan to catch an anomaly, but he knew that if he stopped now, he'd just show up with a hard cock and a bitter attitude. He swirled his thumb around the tip, letting out a soft groan as he pictured you underneath him, licking and sucking him off. How pretty you would look with that eyeliner running down your cheeks, crying just from how big he was. He gripped the side of the table tightly, feeling his balls starting to tighten up.

His hips bucked up into his hand at an embarrassing speed, eager for that feeling of release. He tightened the grip around his cock, moving his hand faster as he let out a soft moan, his orgasm quickly approaching. He watched as you smiled through the monitors, thanking LYLA for the work she'd done and his orgasm washed over him like a tide. He looked down at the mess he'd created, shaking his head in disbelief as he grabbed a napkin from the desk. He cleaned his hand off along with his thigh, putting on some hand sanitizer. He had expected to feel some sort of relief, but he still found the need to have you underneath him overwhelming. He activated his suit once more and calmed down his breathing before walking over to the briefing room.

He felt ashamed as he walked inside, all the eyes in the room looking at him. to think that they were all in here waiting for him while he was in his office fucking his fist to the thought of having your cunt wrapped around his cock. He coughed, pushing those thoughts aside before he got a hard-on in front of his colleagues as he started to give everyone their reports. He ignored the complaining some of the members had, rubbing his forehead as he stayed behind. Jess looked back at him worriedly, but he shrugged her off, saying that he was fine. Which was relatively true, he had no reason to be upset, just the fact that he'd grown attracted to you and didn't know how to go about his feelings.

He spent a while in his office as thoughts of you crept in his mind, most of them were lewd but some of them were a bit more wholesome. He pushed those thoughts off as he bounced a ball, turning LYLA's access to his office back on when he heard a knock on the door. He opened up the door, seeing Peter standing there with Mayday crawling on his shoulders. Ah right, the lunch.

"So imagine my surprise when my best friend finally invited me to lunch," Peter began speaking as they walked down the hallways, his slippers squeaking against the floor. He wanted to toss those slippers away, wanted to tell Peter that he only did it because he didn't want to get caught, but he didn't have the heart to do that today. He, however, did have the heart to ignore the man as he talked and started to play peek-a-boo with Mayday. He felt a ghost of his smile on his lips when he heard Mayday's giggles echo through the room, catching her when she fell off Peter's shoulders.

Peter had settled on getting the 2099 meal, a burger with Miguel’s mask on there along with some fries and a drink. Miguel rolled his eyes as he sat down in front of Peter, his eyes darting towards the burger as he took a bite out of his empanada. "Capitalism," he muttered, shaking his head as Peter took a bite out of the burger. "Okay, so maybe it's overpriced for 20.99 but it's so cute. You truly win at life when you have a burger with your face on it," Peter spoke up, watching as Miguel’s eyebrow twitched a bit. Miguel stood up, partly because he didn't want to see that stupid burger anymore, but mostly because he realized he forgot to get a kid seat for Mayday. He put her on the seat, giving her small pieces of his empanada. Even though most of the crumbs ended up on her cheek and some in her hair, Miguel couldn't help but feel a bit happy when he saw her take bites out of it.

The lunch hadn't gone too bad, most of it was just spent with him feeding Mayday small pieces from his empanada while Peter talked. That was, until he heard your voice. He turned around to see you walk into the cafeteria with Hobie, carefree as you laughed at something he'd said. He saw Peter's eyes brighten up as he waved at you, shaking his head. He wasn't sure why he was so jealous of a man in a bathrobe, maybe it was because he wanted you to wave at him that way. To acknowledge his existence as something more than just an overbearing presence, to smile at him the way you did to others.

"Have you gotten a chance to talk to the new recruit yet?" Peter asked, snapping Miguel’s attention away from Mayday as he turned to look at him. "Uh yeah, we've ran into each other a few times. You?" Miguel responded, trying to keep his tone light and conversational so he'd get more information out of Peter. "I mean, yeah, she's a little intimidating and all with all those tattoos, But she's nice once you get to know her," peter replied, shrugging a bit as he spoke of you. Fuck, how Miguel wanted the opportunity to get to know you.

Over the course of a few days, he kept hearing about the other Spiders talking about you. He listened to the way that they spoke highly about you, how nice you were once those barriers were put down. He couldn't help but feel a sting of jealousy that he was the only one you hadn't made an attempt to get to know, that you regarded everyone with a smile and a wave and regarded him with a roll of your eyes, like his sole existence plagued you. He had resisted at first, not wanting to open up your file so as to keep your privacy, but the more that he heard conversation about you, the more that he wanted to find out about you.

He opened up your file late at night when everybody had left, not even LYLA was around to be nosy. He hesitated for a moment when he got the file unlocked, wondering if violating your privacy was really worth all this trouble before deciding to do it. He knew that it would take a while for you to open up to him and he just had a itch, an itch to get to know you as much as possible. The contents of the file weren't really surprising, your canon events were the same as the other Spiders'. He looked over to see the file where you lost your boyfriend, the tears in your eyes visible even through the hologram. He bit down on his lip, his fangs gently digging in as he started to feel a bit guilty. That night he realized why you were so eager to make friends, that you'd come from a place of loneliness and no family at all.

Miguel had reached his breaking point when you no longer acknowledged his existence, you simply looked over to the person he was next to and greeted them before walking away. not even the occasional eye roll. He cornered you when you were on your way out of the cafeteria, caging you against the wall and his large body. He tilted your chin up so you'd look at him for once, his gaze completely neutral. "So tell me, why have you been ignoring me lately? You don't even scowl at me anymore," He asked, keeping his tone light as he watched your eyes widen with surprise. You hadn't thought he would notice. "I don't see why you care," you responded, shaking your head as you pushed his hand off your chin. You pushed his chest away from your body, walking off to catch up with Hobie who was watching the interaction.

"What was that about, mate?" Hobie asked with an amused smile, looking back at where Miguel was standing. Miguel had a scowl on his face, like he was jealous he couldn't maintain your attention. "I don’t know. He was asking why I was ignoring him but not sure why he even cares," you replied with a small shrug, watching Hobie’s eyes light up with some kind of interest. "You're blind if you haven't realized it by now," was all he offered though, leaving your mind running with what possibly he could be referring to. Hobie took you to the briefing room where you'd be receiving information for your next mission, Jess leading the meeting as she handed out some manila folders.

Miguel got the news that you were off on your first mission, so he decided he would show up after at your place to see how it had gone. That, and he wanted to apologize for his behavior. Apologizing wasn't something he was completely used to doing, but he was willing to put his pride to the side if it gave him the chance to have an actual conversation with you. He walked over to Jess when she came out of the portal, asking her about how the mission had gone and if anyone was hurt. To his relief, the mission had gone smooth and nobody had gotten injured.

Your first mission wasn't too hard, but you felt the soreness in your arms from swinging around. You immediately took a shower and changed into your pajamas when you got home as a means to relax. It was starting to get to you, pretending you were okay with the other Society members just to get them to like you. You got up when you heard your doorbell ring, putting on your webshooters since you weren't expecting any visitors. Your eyes widen when you saw Miguel standing outside, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"I'm here to apologize. I'm sorry for the way that I cornered you earlier today and for the way that I’ve been treating you these past couple days. I also wanted to come see how you were doing," he spoke up after a while of silence, his eyes drifting off to the skimpy top you were wearing, focusing on your breasts. You quickly came to the realization of what Hobie was referring to, watching Miguel struggle to keep eye contact with you. "Did you really come here for that or for something else?" You asked, hooking a finger to the strap of your shirt as you toyed with it. His eyes followed every movement of your finger and you couldn't help but let out a small laugh. "Tell me, Miguel, do I make you nervous?" You asked, tilting his chin down, the same he'd done to you. He nodded, flustered, as he stumbled over his words to come up with some sort of defense for himself. It was empowering, really, seeing your behemoth of a boss practically drooling over you.

"I have one condition if we're gonna do this, okay?" You spoke up when Miguel stepped into your apartment, folding your arms as you looked over at him. He looked so pathetic and needy, nodding like he would give you the moon if you asked for it. "Given some past experiences, I'm not really looking for a relationship. are you okay with this just being casual sex?" you asked, gauging for any reaction from Miguel. You blinked and he was right there on top of you, his lips crashing against yours. "I'll give you anything you want," he mumbled in between kisses, his pelvis thrusting against yours. You let out a soft moan as you felt his hands start to explore every inch of your body, his warmth almost setting a fire in his wake. He gently rolled the buds of your nipples in between his fingers, playing around with the piercings as he moaned. "Been thinking about these every time I cum," he whispered, his lips moving down to your neck.

He bit down on your neck, his fangs gently scraping against your skin as he did so, his tongue running over the bite to soothe the sting as his hand snaked its way to your pants. You let out a small whimper when you felt him cup your pussy, your hips bucking into his instinctively. "Looks like all I had to do was just fuck the attitude right out you, huh?" He whispered, his voice carrying a light tone of amusements as he gathered some slick with his pointer finger. He slowly thrust his finger in, pumping it in and out of you slowly. He continued his attack on your neck, leaving small hickeys as he kissed you. He knew that your accelerated healing wouldn't allow them to be visible tomorrow, but he enjoyed seeing some part of him marking you.

He eventually pushed his middle finger inside of your pussy as well, making a scissoring motion in efforts to open you up. He curled his fingers upwards, hitting your g-spot as you pushed your hips against his palm, hoping to get some much needed friction. You felt yourself getting closer to that brink of orgasm, only to get it pulled away from you. You turned around to look at Miguel, watching as he licked your slick off his fingers. "Only place you'll be cumming is around my cock."

The two of you eventually got your bedroom and you couldn't help but let out a small laugh as Miguel bumped his head against the ceiling. "You think that's funny?" he asked, a teasing tone in his voice as he placed you on the bed. He was quick to disintegrate his suit, his cock hitting his stomach as the tip started to leak precum. "There's some condoms on the bedstand," you spoke up, remembering your policy for one night stands. He reached over, grabbing a condom from the box before getting an idea as he saw your vibrator. He turned it on the lowest setting, setting it against your clit without any pressure as he started to slide inside of you. He let out a moan as your walls engulfed him completely, every part of you was enticing to him. He started off slow, getting you accustomed to the size of his cock before applying more pressure to the vibrator.

You let out a moan as you felt the vibrations shoot straight to you, your hands gripping the sheets. You shivered a bit as you felt miguel's tongue all across your arms, licking as much of the tattoo designs as he could. Even with all that he was doing, he kept his pace steady and even. He used your flexibility to his advantage, placing your legs on his shoulders and the angle allowed him to hit deeper inside of you with no trouble. He started to speed up when he felt your walls clenching around him tightly, the vibrator hitting your clit directly. He pulled his cock completely out of you and just when you were about to complain from the loss of contact, he slammed it into you once more. He started fucking you with a new vigor, his thrusts quick and sloppy as he turned the vibrator on a higher velocity. You clenched around him tightly as you felt your orgasm wash over you, your slick covering the condom completely.

Miguel flipped you over on all fours and he swore he could've come right there on the spot. He noticed that you had a couple other small tattoos on your back, but the one capturing his attention was the blue and red spider tramp stamp. He thrusted in you with ease, your previous orgasm providing him with all the lubrication he needed and he started off slow. He placed his hands on your hips, his heavy balls slapping against your pussy in the most delicious way possible. Miguel started speeding up, keeping his thrusts deep just to feel his tip hit your cervix. He placed the vibrator around your clit again, letting out soft moans of your name as he felt you shiver from the sheer intensity. You clamped tightly around his cock, your orgasm coming quicker than you expected with all the stimulation. Miguel let out a soft groan as you tightened around him, milking his cock for every drop. He filled the condom a few seconds later, delirious over the fact that he'd actually fucked you.

The two of you continued throughout the night, since you were one of the few people that could actually match Miguel’s stamina. You watched as he turned the suit back on the morning, and a part of you wanted to ask him to stay but you knew that wasn't what you told him. He leaned over, kissing you on the forehead before he opened the portal back to the Society.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 8 months

Text

The Grey Zone 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, age gap, bullying, toxic parental figures, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your relationship with your parents has never been good, and that with a family friend takes a strange turn(goth!reader)

Character: Lloyd Hansen

Note: This is what happens when I decide to say fuck it.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like I love turning intended one shots into series. Take care. 💖

The scent of matcha dampens your corset. Lucky for you, it’s black and won’t stain. That’s the one worry you rarely face in your life; stains. Dark fabric does more favours than just slimming you.

Still, that sunny side isn’t enough to brighten your mood. Your day has been shrouded in dark clouds. Your wasted Starbucks matcha and spoiled study sessions weigh down your feet, the thick treads of your boots clomping down the pavement. And on the bus, you nearly fell right on your face with no seats free to sit.

You look up as you approach your father’s ranch house style home. He didn’t take much pride in you but the house was always a gem for him to show off. Almost all your life, it was under one renovation or another. He was always trying to fix things up, including you.

Your mother enabled his endless ‘improvements’ so long as he bribed her with something pretty. That was her thing. He builds, she decorates, and you are the one ornament that doesn’t fit. At least, that’s what it’s felt like since your turn towards black nail polish and fishnets at thirteen. Seven years later and there was still the same angst woven into your parental relationships.

You tramp up the steps of the porch, not noticing the figure sat on the handcrafted bench near the large squared paned windows. Mr. Hansen sits with a can of craft beer in hand, arching a brow at the can as he reads it skeptically. He glances over, not so surprised by your sudden appearance.

You take your earbuds out as the racket scratches from the tiny speakers. You thin your lips, smiles not exactly your forte. He sits up and puts the can down on the bench.

“Tastes like fermented socks,” he says coolly, “your dad never has anything good.”

“Mm,” you grumble as you grip the leather strap of your studded knapsack. “Yeah…”

“You want it? Just don’t tattle on me,” he offers as he taps the aluminum brim.

You shake your head.

“I won’t tell,” he smirks.

“You’re right, it tastes like socks,” you say dully.

He chuckles and brings his hand up, smoothing his palm across the buzzed side of his head. He looks at you, a bit longer than usual. You have the urge to take out your phone and check your reflection.

“I should–”

“That new?”

You speak at the same time. Awkward. Mr. Hansen isn’t usually that out of sync. He has a confidence that makes you feel even more clueless.

“What?” You blink and twist your toe into the wood.

“That shirt.”

You look down at the boned black corset with the violet trim, over a plain black turtleneck. You got it from a vintage store years ago. You’ve worn it so much, the boning holds the shape of your body. You shake your head and shrug.

“Hmm, looks nice.”

The compliment catches you further off guard than his solitary presence. He’s blunt and to the point. The only person you’ve ever heard tell your father the truth. And you know your style is not to everyone's taste.

Looking at him, it's definitely not his. Cream coloured pants, burgundy loafers with golden buckles, and polo striped in shades of goldenrod and garnet.

“Thanks,” you keep from sucking your lip in, not wanting to smear your lip stain. “I should… go.”

“Sure,” he sits back, leaning against the window frame, “if you see your dad, send him out. He ditched me like fifteen minutes ago to find some nonsense sports card.”

“Right,” you continue across the porch.

In your peripheral, his head turns but you don’t meet his gaze. You pull open the screen door, innately aware of him watching you. Why?

The interior door is ajar. You step inside and the spring of the screen snaps it shut behind you. You put your bag on the console table just inside, and lean on it as you unlace your boots. Your mother would subject you to her shrill disapproval if you leave dirt on the runner again.

As you stand, you check your reflection in the round mirror hung on the wall, a frame of golden oak leaves around it. You don’t look that bad. You fixed most of your smeared eyeliner before you left the mall and your lip stain has stuck pretty well. You might be a bit shiny from sweat but nothing egregious.

Before you can grab your bag, the screen door opens. You wince and look at Mr. Hansen as he enters. He is close as he lets the door shut softly and you quickly snatch your knapsack and move away from him.

“Second thought, gotta hit the bathroom,” he explains but pauses and wiggles his nose, the gesture made more obvious by the trim of hair beneath, “smells like grass.”

“Uh, yeah,” you sling your bag from your elbow, “spilled my tea.”

“Probably a good thing if it smells like a lawn,” he scoffs and kicks off his velvet loafers.

“Probably,” you agree glumly and turn away.

“Too bad though. Hope you didn’t burn yourself.”

You stop again, at the bottom of the stairs. You glance back at him. He’s being strangely nice. This isn’t the same man who called you Wednesday Addams and teased you how he was certain that you must sleep in a coffin. Is something wrong? Is your dad okay?

“Hey,” your dad’s voice booms down the stairs above you. You spin and look up at his descent. He carries the old cigar box he keeps his collectibles in, “home early. Thought you were studying.”

“Yeah, uh, I’m just going to do it here–” you say.

“Your mother wants you to help with dinner tonight,” he doesn’t let you finish. As he nears he stops, looking you up and down like he always does. You have to know that he hates everything about you. “Colourful.”

“Dad,” you whisper a weak plea.

He doesn’t answer you as he shoulders past. You frown but don’t look back. You don’t want to show how much it hurts. Even if it happens every day, it still crushes you. It’s just clothes, why does he care so much? You remember the day he stopped taking you to car shows with him, the day you refused to take out your earrings. That was the switch.

“Studying, huh? Boring, but admirable,” Mr. Hansen comments, “think most dad’s would love to hear that from their daughters, huh, Ray?”

Your father just huffs, “depends what they’re studying.”

You keep on up the stairs. You won’t argue, not in front of company. Especially not in front of Mr. Hansen.

“Degree isn’t worth much when you dress like that,” you hear his remark before you get to the top.

You peek back downstairs but can’t see the landing below. Funny, you got a job and they don’t care what you wear, they just want you to show up. If only you had the courage to say it out loud. If only it would make a difference.

You shuffle to your room, just down the hall from your father’s. He occupies the primary room and your mother sleeps in her studio, just the next doorway. They can be amiable, given they don’t spend too much time together. Their relationship is more transactional than affectionate.

You wouldn’t know much about that, though. You’re only guessing. The closest you got to a relationship was when Travis invited you under the bleaches… that’s a memory worth forgetting.

You close your door before you can get carried away. You stopped worrying about your parents’ marriage right before high school. You realised then, there wasn’t any use in fretting in it. In fact, you became almost hopeful that one day they would split.

You put your bag on your bed and look around. The vanity you painted black stands beside the dark curtains. Little bat stickers decorate the edges of the mirror, your collection of antique vials and painted bottles line one side, and your make up chest sits on the other. It’s your little cave, the one place no one can tell you who to be.

You turn on the lamp in the shape of a crystal ball. You undo your corset and peel off your turtleneck, leaving the damp clothing in the hamper. You pull on a black and white striped sweater instead.

You unpack your laptop and climb up on your high queen. The frame has curling iron posts, a particularly gothic design with a peak at the center of the headboard. You love it even if it scratches the paint off the wall.

You pile your pillows up, building a cosy nest to catch up on your work. It’s maybe ten minutes before there’s pounding on your door. Your mother doesn’t wait for an answer. You’ve learned not to expect her to. You look over as she flips on the overhead lights, ruining the subtle ambience of your bedside lamp.

“Uh, hello,” she snips, “your dad said he told you about dinner.”

You frown, “it’s only four–”

“Yes, and? I’m making a bouillabaisse. It needs lots of time,” she retorts, “besides, the table will need to be set for our company.”

“Company? You mean Mr. Hansen–”

“Er yeah,” she sniffs, “don’t be so dumb and stop asking questions.”

“Just curious,” you close your laptop and push yourself across the bed, “coming…”

Your voice trails off as your mother’s already gone, your door left slightly ajar. You huff and follow her tracks, her steps on the stairs as you get to the hallway. You pull your door shut behind you, checking to make sure the fault mechanism catches.

You continue downstairs and follow the impatient clanging of your mother. She’s never very subtle. She already has a glass of red on the counter. She’ll bark at you over it as she tells you exactly how to cook and refuse to do any of it herself.

“Oh, honey,” she says dramatically as she slams the soup pot on the burner, “you look so grim. What happened to that new gloss I bought you?”

“The pink stuff?” You utter as you pick at your sleeves.

“It went so nice with your complexion,” she preens, “it would look so nice with a new dress. I was online shopping today–”

“Mom,” you cross your arms.

“Don’t be a brat. You know, when I was your age, I would’ve loved if my mother still bought me clothes. She made me work for everything I had. She wouldn’t even buy me tampons.”

“I’m sorry,” you murmur.

“Don’t be sorry, get the fish out. Don’t forget the mussels…”

You do as she says. You take out the vast array of fish along with the vegetables she lists off. She empties her glass by the time you start adding ingredients to the blender for the base. You’ve never been a fan of the dish but the last time you tried to convince her on something similar, you went to bed with a stinging cheek. She pours a second glass as you run the motor, holding it extra long to override her nagging.

She leans on the counter, swirling her glass. You can smell her cabinet-laced breath. She’s tipsy already. You add oil to the pot and wait for it to heat up.

“You look so dreary in black,” she mopes, “what happened to my little girl?”

“I’m twenty,” you offer flatly.

“Oh, you started this long before that,” she snarls, “you never wanted to be pretty for your mama.”

“I…” you look down, “this is pretty. To me.”

“You look like one of those girls on the internet…” her head wobbles and she slurps from her glass, “I’ve seen the type. They wear tights like yours and nothing else. What are you always doing on your computer, anyway?”

The accusation scalds you. You shake your head and add the chopped onion, fennel, and leek to the hot oil. This isn’t the first time she’s made the insinuation. Like that time she found certain websites saved on your father’s iPad. It couldn’t have been him, he wouldn’t look at those things. And there was only one other person to blame.

“Schoolwork,” you sigh, “mom,” you look at her wine glass, almost empty again, “how about some water–”

“How about you don’t tell me what to do,” she points at you with a long red nail, “I am your mother, not the other way around.”

“I know,” you grab a rubber spatula and push around the veggies and oil. The fragrant aroma rises in the air. It stokes your appetite.

“Mmm, something smells delicious,” Mr. Hansen’s voice enters ahead of him as you glance over.

Your mother turns and leans her elbows back on the counter, pushing her chest out. You know this part too. Not just with him but the gardener and even the garbage man. Your eyes flick to Mr. Hansen’s before you quickly return your attention to the pot.

“Looks delicious too,” your mother slithers as she leers at him, “Lloyd, I didn’t even get a chance to thank you for the merlot!” She raises her glass sloppily, “there’s enough left for you.”

“Ah, Connie, that’s nice of you,” he replies as he nears, “but it’s cabernet, actually. And my stomach was turned by that craft bullshit.”

He comes close to the stove, standing beside you as he peers down into the pot. The heat from the stove couples with that of his proximity. Your mother drains her glass and pulls away from the counter.

“More for me,” she chimes and grabs the bottle.

You feel a warmth on your lower back as Mr. Hansen’s cologne mingles with the scent of your cooking, “what’s for dinner, sweetheart?”

You realise he’s touching you. His hand slips under the wool of your sweater and his thumb rubs the skin along the top of your pants. You freeze and keep your hand steady as you simmer the veggies. You peek over at your mother, she’s too distracted with her glass.

“Bouillabaisse,” you answer in a brittle voice. You shift and his hand falls away, grazing the top of your pocket, a tickle on your ass.

“Mmm, fish,” he purrs, “I’m starving.”

“Shoo, shoo,” your mother waves her hand at him, “won’t cook faster with you hovering around.”

“Fine, fine,” he raises his hands defensively, “don’t burn yourself, Connie. I see you doing all this hard work–”

“Oh, you,” she sneers and grabs the dish cloth from in front of you where it hangs from the oven handle. She whips the end in his direction, “no wonder you and my husband get along.” She snaps him with it again, “you’re a bunch of jackasses.”

He cackles, unbothered by her anger, but retreating nonetheless. You keep your head down and your mother takes another thick gulp. She scoffs.

“Men,” she slurs, “no good. If you won’t listen to me about anything, you take that in, hon. They’re all trash.”

You refuse to look after Mr. Hansen or think about the shadow of his touch on your skin. Men are confusing, that’s enough to keep you away.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #the grey zone #the gray man #lloyd hansen x reader #fic #au #dark fic #dark!fic #series

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short-honey-badger · 5 months

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Peppermint Tea 4

Goodness this has been so fun to write! I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

Mihawk let's out a lil attitude!

@writingmysanity @kenkenmaaa @foggyturtleknightangel @browneyedhufflepuff @djbumblebee @goth-mami-writer

Mihawk leaves the next morning. After dinner, you'd fluffed out some bedding and parked the warlord on your couch. It was large enough to fit him comfortably, though he did have to contend with an over eager Hank. He woke before you, lips curling at the sound of your soft snores when he slipped into your bedroom.

You wake when he cards one warm hand through your hair, eyes fluttering open to the delightful sight of Mihawk once more. However, you see that his coat is on and his boots cover his feet, so you know that he must be leaving. It saddens you, but you still smile in joy at seeing him. You reach for him, and Hawkeye gives in with a roll of his eyes.

His knee settles on the bed to leverage him as he leans over you, warm hand going from your hair to cradle your cheek. He leans in and kisses you, a simple press of his lips to your own. A hum catches in his throat when you tilt your head and purse your lips against his own, kissing him back even in your inexperience. He thinks of you going to bed last night, staying up, and reading the romance books you thought he didn't catch you taking back to your room. Mihawk is curious as to how far you'll let him push.

Dracule pulls away enough to speak, “Open your mouth for me, sweet thing,” he orders, and you shudder In his hold even as you do as you're told.

“Good girl,” he breathes and then seals his lips against your own once more, tugging and lapping at your swollen lips. Dracule's facial hair scrapes across your sensitive skin, and you whimper when you feel the heat of his tongue lick into your mouth. The kiss is like nothing you've ever experienced before. Nothing all the stories in the world could prepare you for.

Mihawk seems to be able to know when you need to stop, for he pulls away to gaze down at you with a smug smirk as you struggle to catch your breath, “That's not fair,” you grumble and fall back into the bed with a huff.

Dracule rolls his eyes at you again and leans down to kiss your cheek, “You'll get there, Darling,” he teases and then pulls away fully to stand tall, “However, I must go. There are things that I must attend to,” his mind casts off to Gloom Island, and the trouble that the pink haired menace causes every time he is gone for an extended period of time.

You sigh dramatically and roll out of the bed, “Yeah, alright. I'll walk you to your ship.”

Hawkeye follows you out of the bedroom, and Hank meets the two of you at the door. The big dog whines for pets, and you crouch to give him some before opening the door. Hank bounds put, and the two of you follow the excited hound outside to wallow in the grass and do his business. You leave your best friend to do what he does best and follow Dracule through the forest that surrounds your home until you arrive at the shore.

“That's your ship?” You demand, tone dropping in doubt and surprise. You look at him, brow cocked in disbelief, “It's tiny!”

Mihawk sneers at you, “My ship has served me well for decades, little girl. You shouldn't presume such things until you know what they are capable of,” it's the first time that he had gotten even the slightest bit ill with you, but this is his ship, his home away from the castle.

The change in attitude has you shrinking in on yourself a bit, and snow builds up around your feet. You feel guilty, but you hadn't been making fun of his boat! You promise.

Before you can make a fool of yourself even more, a warm hand cups the back of your neck, and you are pulled forward to thud against Mihawk's chest. He kisses the top of your head and wraps an arm around your waist

“That was uncalled for, dear one,” Dracule murmurs softly. He had seen the way you had flinched away from him, the temperature falling, and the uncertainty that had pooled in your eyes. He must remember that you knew little about him, didn't even know that he was a warlord, someone to be feared by all least the government sick him after them. He dearly wanted to keep it that way, and snapping at her for something so small was not the way to keep you close to him.

“I'm sorry. I wasn't picking fun,” Your voice is muffled, but Mihawk still hears your sad little explanation. It makes him feel a little guilty for snapping at you.

“I should have known,” He assures you quietly, and an idea comes to mind, “Would you like a book on ships and seafaring?” He had noticed a couple of similar tomes lying about your cottage, but many of your books were water damaged, making it difficult for you to get through them.

You jerk back to look up at him, excitement pooling in your eyes, “Really?” It's been decades since someone had gotten you a gift. The thought of Dracule being the one to be the first makes your stomach do flips.

Your disbelief has his lips curling in a soft smile, “Yes, really, Darling. Would you like more than one?” He questions, and by the way your face lights up, he knows the answer already.

“Ah, no, thank you. I don't want you to have to go through too much trouble for me,” you deny to his amusement. The warlord rolls his eyes, hand tightening on the back of your neck in admonishment.

“None of that, I want you to be honest with me, dear,” Mihawk orders. His thumb ghosts back and forth along the side of your neck, calming you from any nerves that want to rise up at his request.

Dracule watches as you come to a decision, cheeks pinking cutely as your eyes flick away from his, “Can I have three?” You finally ask. He huffs at your stubbornness.

“Fine. I will bring you three,” Mihawk agrees, though he is already thinking about other things that he could get you. He could finally put his Berri to good use.

Hank barking at a nearby crab brings the two of your back to reality. Mihawk sighs and drags you in for one last kiss before he steps back. He needed to leave now before he ended up staying far longer than he intended. He pats Hank's shaggy head when the dog lopes up to him.

“I'll be back, Darling,” he assures you, and you nod, hands wringing in uncertainty as your friend boards his ship. You watch from the shore as he pulls up his anchor and loosens his sails to catch the wind.

“Be safe!” You call before he can get too far away, and Mihawk raises a single arm to let you know that he heard your farewell. You watch him sail away from your little island with a heavy heart, but it fights with the joy of knowing that Mihawk will be back. Soon, he is little but a speck on the horizon, and you turn away to go back to your cottage, Hank bouncing around your feet.

#fanfic #one piece #reader insert #fluff #dracule mihawk #mihawk x reader #one piece mihawk #hawkeye mihawk #op mihawk #opla mihawk x reader #opla mihawk #mihawk x y/n #mihawk x you #reader is a devil fruit user #Peppermint tea #sugar daddy dracule Mihawk

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dolljunk · 4 months

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It's taken a while, but I finally got a Luna Mothews with the right amount of missing parts since I really wanted one with all her limbs and wings intact.

Even though I really liked her face design, from the bug-like lashes, antennae-style brows and compound bug eyes, I felt like it looked oddly flat. My repaint was meant to tweak her overall look to suit my tastes and to suit her face sculpt better.

I really liked the design aspect of Boo York dolls, but the faces were the aspect that made me cool on Monster High when it was initially out, and I didn't have the skills or energy to tweak them to my liking.

The hardest part was doing the compound bug eye effect on the pupil as it was such tiny detail work, but I think the effect has worked out.

I'm really happy my goth moth has been redone as I did regret not getting her when she was brand new.

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dontmixpaintinyourcoffee · 2 years

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Madeline Hatter light of my life

Design notes under the cut!

Alright so this has to be sectioned into two parts-

Wonderlandian design choices

Alright! So there is a continuity with my wonderlandian designs, and I'm gonna just lay them out as they apply to each one

All native wonderlandians have two-toned hair in some way. Maddie doesn't dye her hair or brows, she's just like this, because why wouldn't she be?

I chose to give the wonderland kids a strong Victorian vibe to different degrees. Maddie is connected to wonderland strongly, but she considers Ever After her home. So she has a super fancy Victorian blouse, but everything else is unique to the Hatters.

Maddie design choices

So- this one was very fun. First up is colors! I brightened up her turquoise to contrast that dark purple, then contrasted it with a cream color more easy on the eyes, and accented the whole thing with gold.

I designed her outfit the way I did specifically because I imagined it being her uniform for when she's working in her dad's Teashop and Haberdashery! (also because I saw some poofy clown pants while looking for references and thought they'd be adorable and perfect for her.)

She can pull other hats out of her hat and also drink tea out of her hat. If she tried to pull another thing out of her tea-filled hat she would get the thing but it would be soaked in tea.

Big chunky shoes because she's tiny and deserves to be able to make loud *HONK* noises when she walks. Also the tall platforms mean that she doesn't have to crane her neck so hard looking up at Ravens face, the goth giraffe

She is wearing real teabags on her ears. They are recently used.

#eah art #eah #eah redesign #eah fanart #ever after high #ever after high art #madeline hatter #yes i have thought about this cartoon for children designed to sell dolls from almost a decade ago for far too long why do you ask #coffeepaintart

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97keanu · 8 months

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Neo x goth!reader?

Premise: You're the girlfriend he always wanted. Life was empty before you, life was nothing before you. Neo is simply a loser hacker who lucked out his perfect goth girlfriend. He has nothing but you to fill the void. He should be happy he's not lonely anymore, he should be happy, he should be...

TW: horror inspired, unreality heavy, you are not what you seem, you digital siren of the deep. The cycle will start again.

A/N: horror drabble for the season. May want to use a binary code translator here. Vagueness as not to give too much away. If you don't enjoy horror/unreality do not read.

Neo had only known you for a few months, but in that time, you two had become inseparable. He can't believe you, you with your pitch black hair, your gothic make up, and pouty black lips had just walked into his life. He loved you. He loved how you dressed, with your black attire, your stompy boots, hair a whimsical bats nest. He loved your mind, you were so smart, he felt like he finally met his equal. He loved how you looked at him, with all the love he wanted in your eyes. Your voice, always soft, and gentle, a perfect contrast to your harsh dress.

In fact, he loved you so much, and you were so perfect, he could swear he dreamed you. Maybe he did. He couldn't say what his life was before you, you with your gorgeous darkness that had filled his life.

You were perfect. Everything he needed. You two never fought, nor did he ever need to think of much else. In fact, as he lay next to you in his tiny, clothes strewn bed, his filthy, loser little room enclosed around you two like a nest, and he tries to remember for a second what he had even done for the day. How long has he been facing you, his perfect mate, talking about something he had lost the plot of. His heart lurched for a moment, and he swallowed down an anxiety that tended to fill him if he looked into your eyes too long. He whispered out your name as you stopped speaking mid sentence to furrow your brow at the sudden interrupting.

"Yes, Neo?" Your voice was soft, kind, gentle as always.

"What…um…" Neo rubs his sweaty forehead, wondering how he even began to sweat in the first place. He pauses for a while, and you of course, as the good girlfriend you are, don't talk over him, and simply listen as he tries to find his words. It's like trying to find something precious lost in a thick bucket of honey, the sweet sea calling him to ignore what he even lost in the first place. He finally decides on a sentence to begin with. "When did, um, when did you come over today, exactly?"

"What do you mean my love?" You tilt your head and reach out a hand, moving now damp hair across Neo's forehead. "I came over at the same time I always do…"

Neo stares at your form, laying so closely in bed next to him. You're wearing an old band shirt of his, and when he tries to focus on what that band once was, he can only see shapes of a faded, long gone album cover. He can't remember what he used to listen to, he can't think about that right now. No, he should focus. Focus on you.

He finds your big soft eyes, that look at him with all the love in the world.

"Yes…but….when was that again?" He has to clear his throat to get the sentence out. The anxiety rises again. His stomach feels empty, and he has no idea when last it was full, or if it ever was, for that matter.

"Are you feeling sick, hun?" You let your hand press against his head, feeling the heat from his body against the back of your hand. Neo almost flinches from your touch, it's cold.

"Yes, I am…" He pauses, then shakes his head. "Well, maybe I'm not. I'm not sure. I…What were you talking about before this?"

He tries to remember, then looks to your face, soft and full as the moon, your dark makeup blending into the dark of the room.

"Oh? That…that doesn't much matter. What would you rather talk about?" You smile widely, always happy to listen to your all loving boyfriend first.

"No, no, I…." Neo sits up, his lungs have tightened too much. He needs to breathe away from you, from your beauty that wraps around his mind like a fog.

"Neo, you don't seem like yourself tonight…" You say, with worry that is appropriate.

"Can I just, I need some space right now." He stands up, then when you turn to follow, he goes to speak your name out. The word, that name of yours, catches in his throat like a stone. Neo coughs, trying to get it out, before his mind finalizes on the fact that he's never known your name at all. Who are you….?

"Neo…you're starting to scare me…" He has his back to you, he can't even look at you right now. He can't imagine what you look like. The darkness of the room is closing in. He can feel your hands enclose around his shoulders, always there for him. Never away, never letting him out of your sight. You have a cold heat, the kind that burns like dry ice, Neo can feel it through his shirt. The room has nothing in it. He knows that. It never had anything in it.

Neo can't even look at anything while your mouth breathes chilly crystals over his ears.

"Why don't you come back to bed, my love…"

Neo doesn't think his eyes are even open at this point. He isn't standing. He might as well be floating in this darkness. He might as well be nothing, and he already knows what you are. He can't say it. He can't speak, he keeps coughing. It's all caught in his throat now, as it always is when he remembers. He's drowning. He can feel it, the stench of real life seeping in once again. He can feel it devouring him, melting his body to a more useful goo. The screams won't come this time. He needs to stop thinking, he needs to listen to you, his loving girlfriend, his perfect girlfriend his his his his his his

His what?

Who even is he?

Where is he?

His hands are going now, and soon enough it will be all of him. He should stop this, he can't think this way. His hands illuminate the darkness, he sees it again, the code

01011001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01101110 01100101 01100101 01100100 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01100011 01101111 01101101 01100101 00100000 01100010 01100001 01100011 01101011 00101110 00100000 01000011 01101111 01101101 01100101 00100000 01101000 01101111 01101101 01100101 00100000 01001110 01100101 01101111 00101110 00100000 01000011 01101111 01101101 01100101 00100000 01100010 01100001 01100011 01101011 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01101101 01100101 00101110 00100000 01000011 01101111 01101101 01100101 00100000 01100010 01100001 01100011 01101011 00100000 01110100 01101111 00100000 01101101 01101111 01110100 01101000 01100101 01110010 00101110 00100000 01001001 00100000 01110111 01101001 01101100 01101100 00100000 01110111 01100001 01110010 01101101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01101001 01101110 00100000 01101101 01111001 00100000 01100010 01110010 01100101 01100001 01110011 01110100 00101100 00100000 01001001 00100000 01110111 01101001 01101100 01101100 00100000 01100111 01101001 01110110 01100101 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01101100 01101001 01100110 01100101 00101100 00100000 01110100 01101000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01110111 01101000 01100001 01110100 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01110111 01100001 01101110 01110100 01100101 01100100 00101100 00100000 01110100 01101000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01110111 01101000 01100001 01110100 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01100001 01110011 01101011 01100101 01100100 00100000 01100110 01101111 01110010 00100000 01110100 01101000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01110100 01101001 01101101 01100101 00101100 00100000 01110011 01110100 01101111 01110000 00100000 01100110 01101001 01100111 01101000 01110100 01101001 01101110 01100111 00101100 00100000 01110011 01110100 01101111 01110000 00100000 01100110 01101001 01100111 01101000 01110100 01101001 01101110 01100111 00101100 00100000 01110011 01110100 01101111 01110000 00100000 01100110 01101001 01100111 01101000 01110100 01101001 01101110 01100111 00101100 00100000 01110011 01110100 01101111 01110000 00100000 01100110 01101001 01100111 01101000 01110100 01101001 01101110 01100111 00101110

He nods. He's in bed with you again. He can breathe. He can breathe. He can breathe if you just don't look at him.

#neo x reader #my writing #the matrix fanfic #horror fanfic #halloween fics #neo the matrix #neo drabble #neo #the matrix 1999 #the matrix

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chaoticbuggybitchboy · 11 days

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Trad goths had it right with the squared off brows into nose contour thing. Like. It’s such a good shape and it’s distinct enough (at least to someone who knows a tiny bit about makeup styles) that even when you totally change the medium it’s still recognizable. It slays so hard

#chaoticbuggybitchboy #goth #trad goth #makeup #my makeup definitely goes further towards guyliner gone mad than towards goth #but like I do the brows and augh slay #I don’t even do like foundation or anything I just do right in w eyeshadow and occasionally an eyeliner pencil #and the goth brows!! slay!!!

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vauxxy · 2 years

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“treacherous”

(any version) peter parker x reader

(rivals to lovers because that’s the best trope)

peter parker ends up being roped into coming to betty brants party, despite immensely disliking the person who urges him to come. the party sparks a strange realisation and challenges their previous thoughts and feelings towards one another.

warnings: straight people and guns and female pronouns and alcohol and swearing xx

“fuck off penis parker”

y/n turned her head away from her lab partner, dragging her hands across her face as she crossed her legs. peter rolled his eyes and rested his head in his hand. “whatever, it was just an idea,” he scoffed, scribbling something down in his note book. y/n furrowed her brows.

“are you fucking serious? a study on what causes ‘goth girls’ to become pot heads? that’s an obvious dig at me and i won’t stand for it”

“what do you suggest then, y/n?”

peter smirked, fiddling with his pencil as he looked up at y/n.

“maybe a study on what causes guys with tiny dicks to become nerdy virgins” y/n proposed, loudly closing her science book. “oh wait,” she continued. “i think we know the answer to that one already!”

peter parker folded his arms and leaned back into his chair. “you’re such an… interesting personality, y/n” he laughed as the bell rang.

the rest of the class quickly fled the scene, most uncomfortable by the two teenagers’ constant arguing. their shoes lightly tapped the ground, y/n seemingly faster than usual.

as she hurried to her locker, gwen stopped her. “you’re in a rush” she stated, leaning against the metal doors next to y/n as the other girl frantically put her books in her bag.

“i’ve got to do the groceries, make dinner and meet with the bank all within the next few hours so i can go to this stupid party you want me at, so i’m in a little bit of a rush i guess” y/n joked sarcastically, pushing a hand against her hair anxiously.

“i can help you out if you want?” gwen offered, walking away with y/n. y/n shook her head as she headed towards the subway with her friend. “honestly, it’s all good. it’ll only take me an hour or two anyways” she smiled, catching the eye of a familiar nerd waiting for the train to area.

y/n and gwen. turned to face peter. “are you coming to the party tonight?” gwen asked, leaning her head on y/n’s shoulder. peter pursed his lips in response. “i didn’t even know there was a party” he replied, turning off his phone. y/n chuckled, shaking her head. “that’s so… like you, peter” she chuckled as the subway arrived at their platform.

the three got into discussion as the doors opened, walking in and luckily finding seats. “are you still pissy about the goth-pothead comment?” peter asked, staring at the screen of his phone. y/n shook her head and arched his brows, turning to face peter. “i don’t give a flying fuck about that, i have the memory of a fish,” y/n replied.”i just liked teasing you” she smiled.

“you should come peter, it’s at betty brant’s house” gwen interrupted, hanging onto her school bag. peter chuckled, slightly shaking his head. “i’m not too sure about that one,” he replied. “parties have never really been my thing” gwen gasped and put her hand on her heart. “that’s so crazy! who could’ve known that the skater boy didn’t like parties” she joked playfully, holding onto the trains hand rail as it moved around.

“you should come, i’d love to see you as a drunken idiot” y/n smirked. peter gazed up at y/n, crossing his arms. “oh, i am not good at being drunk- i get all weird” peter muttered awkwardly, causing gwen and y/n to instantly light up. “you need to come now!” gwen laughed, covering her hand with her mouth. he shook his head, standing up. “i’ll think about it” he murmured reluctantly, slinging his bag over his shoulder at the sound of the train announcing his stop. “you better come, i wanna see you make an absolute fool of yourself” y/n teased, pushing peter lightly. peter looked back at y/n, pursing his lips and meekly waving goodbye to the two girls.

as he left, gwen turnt to y/n. “you know he’s into you, right?” she stated, taking peters old seat next to y/n. y/n chuckled sarcastically, rolling her eyes. “very funny, gwen” she responded. she nodded her head, nudging her shoulder a bit. “he’s got a thing for emo girls, even ones he supposedly hates” gwen affirmed, smiling.

“i don’t care anyways, i couldn’t like a jerk like that”

“are you sure? you flirt with him every chance you get”

“no! that’s just banter, don’t get it twisted” y/n scoffed, standing up for her stop. “i’m gonna go run some errands before the party, see you then” she smiled. gwen nodded, waving goodbye.

- - -

running from the bank to the grocery store back to her house was a rather tiring routine, but she had to do it to make sure her siblings were all tended for before she even thought about enjoying herself.

while she was walking to the bank, she felt a pair of eyes staring daggers into the back of her head, but as soon as she turned around she found absolutely nothing to be afraid of. this had been happening much more than usual, causing herself to become more cautious than usual.

getting ready for the party, she felt the same fear she felt at the bank, but it was more so about what gwen had said before. to soothe her nerves, she called her friend and put the phone of speaker as she did her makeup.

“we’re gonna get pete so drunk tonight, i wanna know what he was talking about on the train” gwen laughed, causing y/n to subconsciously smile. “i wonder if he’s a funny drunk or one of those depressing ones with no filter” y/n responded, grabbing her keys and walking out of her bedroom.

she put her hand over the speaker of the phone and shouted out to her siblings. “i’ll be back in a few hours, call me if you need anything” she announced, heading out of the house as her siblings all said their goodbyes.

hopefully the night wouldn’t end in disaster.

- - -

“bottoms up!” gwen shouted, already hammered 50 minutes into the party. y/n, gwen and peter were all sat in betty’s spacious bathroom, close together with a bottle of vodka and a carton of apple juice. the three teens took their respective shots, each at different stages of drunkenness.

y/n sat back into the coldness of the empty bathtub with a bottle of beer in her right hand and a shot glass in the other. “i feel like my body doesn’t align with my brain” she cried dramatically. gwen turned to her friend, leaning against the cabinet underneath the sink. “how so babe?” she replied, popping every other letter she spoke. peter’s eyes moved over to y/n intrigued by her sentiment.

“i just feel like my boobs should be bigger!” she sulked, sitting up to face gwen and peter. gwen sympathetically arched her brows, cradling the vodka bottle. “no! you have great boobs…” she slurred as peter turned beetroot red and turned away from y/n, leaning against the bathroom wall.

“but what if i want double d’s??!!” she exclaimed, leaning back. peter leaned his head to the side. “for the record, i think your boobs are nice” he stated, clearly out of it. y/n and gwen were both taken back by this sudden comment. “uhhh, thanks?!” y/n stuttered, covering her face in embarrassment. “don’t think too much about it, weirdo” peter defended himself, “maybe if you weren’t such an emo you’d like them more”

gwen suddenly jolted up, as if something clicked. “y/n you’re right, he doesn’t have a filter when he’s drunk!” she smiled, turning to peter. y/n’s eyes lit up, mouth opening slightly. “i’d like to think i’m a very well held together drunk person” peter nodded his head, assuring himself. y/n shook her head, leaning over to pat peters shoulder. “i literally don’t understand a single word you said”

“well, this newfound information deserves a game of truth or truth” gwen suggested, taking another shot. peter refused at first, but he didn’t really have a choice in the matter anyways.

“peter, truth or truth?” gwen asked. peter took a while to think, tapping his chin. “i think i’ll take a wildcard here and say… truth” he reposed. “since when we’re you so observant of y/n’s boobs?” she asked, causing y/n to object. “that’s a weird question-“ she was cut off by peter answering almost instantly. “i am a very observant person, i see things” he justified, slurring his words. “but” he continued, “y/n is a pretty girl, despite her rude comments and scary makeup so i’m obviously gonna notice her nice boobs”

y/n tried to form a sentence but all could come out was a confused “thank you??”

after a few beats of time, she straightened her back and peeked over at peter. “someone wants to get into my pants” she sneered. peter threw up his hands defensively. “hey, no way! gross…” he muttered. “i’m just telling the truth, you’re the one making it weird”

gwen nodded her head in satisfaction. “okay, now you ask someone” she insisted, passing the bottle to peter. “okay, gwen… truth or truth?” he asked, taking a swift and instantly regretting it as the taste hit his mouth. “truth” she replied, curling her knees towards her chest. “what’s the weirdest secret you know about anyone at this party?” peter questioned. gwen took a few moments to think of something.

“betty is screwing the camera dude for her little morning announcements” she nonchalantly replied, shrugging her shoulders. y/n gasped. pulling at her hair slightly. “i called it!” she shouted.

the game continued, the questions getting weirder and more provocative as time went on.

“y/n, truth or truth?” betty asked, crossing her arms confidently. “truth” she replied.

“who’s the most fuckable person at school?” she smiled like a drunken sailor. y/n didn’t hesitate one bit, absolutely smashed. “peter” she whispered loudly, pointing at the boy who was now sat next to her in the bathtub.

peter’s eyes widened, frozen in place. “what?! why me?” he asked, chocking on his words. gwen gasped, grasping at the torso of her dress in shock. “you’re tall and you’re secretly ripped… and you’re awkward and nice but not to me which i find a little attractive” she muttered. “you’re a major dick with a terrible attitude- but i feel like if i was to do anything with anyone you’d be the nicest” she stated as her eyes fluttered.

peter was at an utter loss for words. “are you two into each other and just decided not to tell me?” gwen, cried, smiling as she laid back. “i don’t like peter, i just find myself being very, extremely attracted to him” y/n, bit the inside of her mouth. “despite his obvious and unavoidable flaws, of course” she continued. peter stared at her in shock, pushing his hair back. “honestly, i agree” he interjected. “i find myself thinking about y/n a lot, but i don’t like her” he said.

“that’s literally the definition of liking each other” gwen affirmed, drinking the last bit from the bottle. “i need to get more!” she shouted, standing up. “get something fruity” y/n pleaded, reaching out. “sure” gwen agreed. leaving the room.

moments passed, and quickly y/n moved towards peter. “do i like you, penis parker?” she asked, resting her head on his shoulder. “how am i supposed to answer that question” peter laughed, leaning into the movement.

“kiss me so i know if i like you” y/n demanded, jolting up and facing peter.

their faces were mere centimetres apart, they could feel the warmth of each others bodies.

“are you sure?” he asked, moving in a little closer.

“yes i’m sure, don’t be a pussy” she responded, placing her hands on peters shoulders.

suddenly, their lips made contact as their bodies intertwined. peter put his hands in her waist as he leaned further into the kiss.

the expression turned more passionate, but before they could continue the door opened suddenly.

“can you guys leave? it’s 2 am!” betty demanded, holding a trash bag filled with empty bottles and plastic cups.

the two jolted off each other, startled by her sudden entrance. “oh, shit-“ she clenched her teeth as she realised what the two were doing. “sorry, you’ve got 30 minutes to wrap… that… up” she hesitantly remarked as she walked backwards out of the doorframe and closed the door.

the two sat in silence for a few seconds.

“i can’t tell if that was a good idea or not” peter sighed, sinking into the floor of the bathtub. y/n closed her eyes. “i’m so confused” she muttered, covering her face. peter turned towards y/n again and moved the hands from her face before leaning into kiss her again. y/n returned the gesture, pulling herself into him.

“guys betty brant is kicking us out-“ gwen announced as she opened the door, her eyes widening at the sight in front of her “HOLY SHIT!” she shouted, gasping loudly. the two pushed off of each other again, moving to separate sides of the bathtub.

“umm… it’s not what it looks like?” y/n said, not even sounding convincing enough for herself. “no, it definitely is what it looks like” gwen nodded leaning over to let out an exhausted laugh. “i fucking called it!” she cheered, parading out of the bathroom.

y/n stood up, gesturing her hand out to peter so he could follow. “i should probably get an uber” she stated, stepping out of the bathtub as peter took her hand. he followed and nodded slightly. “me too to be honest, i don’t think i can drive” he laughed, stumbling a little.

the two exited out the bathroom and awkwardly walked outside the house together.

the cold air hit y/n’s face as she stared at her phone screen, waiting for her uber to arrive so she could get out of this awkward tension.

“do you wanna talk about what happened?” peter started, looking over at y/n. she looked back, noticing the large distance between the two. “no-yes, no??” she responded, putting her phone in her jacket pocket. “i’m gonna sleep on it, if that’s okay” she finally replied cohesively, fidgeting with her hands. peter nodded, hiding his hands in his jean pockets.

the uber pulled up to the sidewalk, announcing that the uber was for y/n. she took a step forward towards it before peter grabbed her hand and pulled her into one last kiss, sinking into the moment. y/n clinched onto him as if they’d never speak again, holding him closely.

she pulled away a few seconds later, taking a step backwards. “uh, i’ll see you later penis parker” she remarked, stepping inside of the car. peter waved as the car started and drive off with the girl he was snogging a few moments before. he took a deep breath in, holding his face. “what the fuck…” he muttered.

- - -

it had been more than 24 hours since the party and there was complete radio silence between both parties. peter was hunched over in his bed, staring at his phone as he yearned for a text from y/n ti meet up or something. it was already sunday night and they were supposed to sit next to each other for the first two periods in the morning.

to take his mind off the stress he was feeling, peter put on his suit and climbed out of his bedroom window.

he swung around the streets of queens for a few good minutes, taking in the cold air as it collapsed against the fabric of his suit. he wound up on the rooftop of the tallest building in sight, staring over the city streets. his eyes traced over every movement he could see, swinging his legs over the end of the building.

in the corner of his eye, he could see two figures standing in an alleyway nearby. suspicious of the situation, he cautiously swung closer to navigate the situation better.

“hand over the money, i know you have it” a booming voice announced from the distance, instantly alarming peter. moving closer, he could see that the figure responsible for the voice had a handgun pressed against the second figure.

quickly, peter swung towards the alleyway and dropped right behind the armed man. he punched him down almost instinctively and pressed the front of his body against the cold floor. “what do you think you’re doing, threatening people this late at night?” he asked, webbing the gun to the ground and holding the man’s hands behind his back. “the fuck?!” he shouted, muffled by his face smashed against the concrete. peter webbed his hands in place and stuck him to the ground before standing up and looking at the other figure.

he instantly recognised the girl in front of him, chocking out of pure shock and somewhat rage.

y/n?

“attacking a teenager? not cool, man” he sighed, quickly contacting the authorities and standing by y/n. she had tears in her eyes and was shaking harder than anyone peter had ever seen anyone shake before. “are you okay ms?” he asked, holding into her shoulders. she shook her head, sobbing quietly. “i’ll get you out of here” he stated, grabbing onto y/n and webbing the man to the floor once again, just in case.

he swung the two back the the top of the building as her tears wet the torso of peter’s suit. it took everything in her power to not kiss her again and hold onto her as tightly as possible.

he set her down, rubbing her back softly. “do you mind telling me what happened?” he asked, crouching down to her level as she sat on the floor of the building. she nodded, sobbing a little quieter.

“that- that was some weird stalk-stalker” she cried, trying to explain herself. “he was following me around all week because- because i’ve been going to th-the banks”

peter nodded slowly, trying not to rush her. “i think he though i had money… but i definitely don’t have- like any…” she sighed, drying her eyes. she bit the inside of her mouth. calming down a little. “you don’t need to worry about him anymore, he’s going to jail for a very long time” he reassured her.

soon enough, y/n started talking to the masked superhero about her week. “i’ve been having a lot of financial issues, and boy issues, and like… issues” she stated, laughing a little bit. peter’s ears pricked up. “boy issues?” he asked, instantly regretting it. so unprofessional he thought, internally judging himself. “oh yeah,” she laughed. “i don’t think you’d wanna hear about that, you’re a whole ass superhero” she smiled, shaking her head.

“i’m all ears” he reassured her, crossing his arms.

“well… there’s this boy who i used to really super dislike but we got drunk- like shitfaced drunk, and we kissed like three times and i liked all the times…” she frowned, covering her face. “but i’ve been busy so i accidentally ghosted him- but he’s been ghosting me too!” she argued with herself, perusing her lips. peter instantly filled with regret.

“it sounds like you two really like each other, maybe just be truthful to how you feel” peter suggested, fiddling with his hands. y/n nodded. “that’s probably a good idea” she agreed, standing up. “and stay away from banks for a while” he laughed, patting her in the back.

peter swung y/n home, making sure she was safe before heading back towards his bedroom for the night.

“what the fuck…” he muttered, collapsing into his bed.

im probably gonna do a part two cause im a little nerd xx

also i refuse to edit any of this so sorry if there’s mistakes lol

happy days 🫶

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter #mcu #peter x reader #peter parker enemies to lovers #peter parker rivals to lovers #peter parker x reader enemies to lovers #peter parker x reader rivals to lovers #mcu x reader #andrew garfield #tom holland #andrew garfield x reader #tom holland x reader

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hyde-ur-monsters · 6 months

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On account of me procrastinating and the idea of a Monster High and Danny Phantom crossover (with a focus on Sam and Clair) breathing down my neck, I had a tiny fic idea that i will now write instead of the assignment my grade depends on

Jackson and Claire were having a perfectly calm outing. It had been a while since they hung out, and they had a lot to catch up on. They decided to go to a nearby cafe; it had a nature theme going and Jackson was curious about it.

“You’re such a hipster,” Clair had teased him, poking him in the side.

The line was long, so they got ready for a long wait and talked in the meantime. Jackson was ranting about his biggest ongoing project (body duplication). About how he had the theory down, but so far all it would do is instantaneously produce an exact clone of the subject. He couldn’t figure out how to produce a double based on the subject’s thoughts and it was frustrating him to no end.

Jackson tended to lose track of his surroundings when he was talking about his Interests, and Clair was facing away from the line, so it was kinda his fault when they didn’t move along with the line and left a sizable gap in between them and the person in front of them.

Naturally, some guy who had just walked into the café saw the gap and thought, hey free real estate.

Clair caught the face Jackson made mid-rant, his i’m-annoyed-but-also-non-confrontational face, and turned around just in time to see the guy cut in line in front of them. Clair raised an eyebrow at the sheer audacity.

“Is he fucking serious?” She said this loud enough for the Opportunist Ass to hear.

Jackson grimaced when the guy squared his shoulders but made no inclination to move. Oh this was going to turn into a Thing, and he did not want it to turn into a Thing.

“It’s fine,” he whispered to Clair. “I got carried away and didn’t realize the line had moved.”

Clair turned to him with a glare.

“We’ve been waiting ten minutes in line, Jackson. He can take his turn like the rest of us instead cutting in line like a parasite,” she said annoyedly, before turning to the guy. “Dude, in case it somehow escaped your beady eyes, the line starts at the door.”

Instead of ignoring her this time, the guy glanced at them over his shoulder with an unimpressed look.

“Go somewhere else if it bothers you, freak. Not my fault you were wasting time talking about weird shit.”

Taken aback by his response, Clair scoffed in disbelief. She couldn’t think fast enough for something to say, so the guy turned back around and went back to ignoring them.

“Real original,” Jackson muttered under his breath with a roll of his eyes.

“I hate—”

“Clair, just leave it. We’ll get our coffee either way.”

Clair frowned, brow furrowing like she wanted to say more, but she kept quiet. She didn’t like arguing with strangers. It was more stress than it was worth. Besides, she knew Jackson hated making a scene. She could let it go.

“Hey, asshole!”

The two friends jumped at the shout, eyes wide. They slowly turned to look at a girl their age decked out in goth attire (a dark purple tank top paired with a loose, ghost-patterned cardigan, a long black skirt, and a pair of tall platform boots peeking out from under the hem). She wore heavy eyeliner that did nothing to make her look less terrifying as she glared directly at the line-cutter.

The guy glanced minutely behind him, intent on ignoring her, too.

“Yeah, you, dickhead. They told you where the line was, but I don’t see you moving.”

Everyone else in the line was turning to look at the scene, the goth girl’s shout having caught their attention. There were murmurs around and Jackson suddenly felt too many eyes on them.

The girl hadn’t moved an inch from her spot, but that didn’t take away from the feeling that she would drag him out of the spot if she could.

Oh please don’t let this turn into an altercation, Jackson pleaded silently. He wanted to melt into the ground as it was.

Clair on the other hand smirked at the goth girl. She felt braver now with someone else taking the stand, and she put a hand on her hip giving the guy a raised eyebrow.

“You heard her,” she said, too satisfied with herself.

The guy glared at them both.

“I’ve been here the whole time,” he stated with a sudden air of confidence that made Clair scoff and the goth girl stomp her boot.

“I saw you cut in line, dumbass,” goth girl accused, pointing at him.

“Yeah, nice try, but we’re not blind. The line starts at the door,” Clair repeated, jabbing her thumb behind her.

“I don’t take orders from weirdos.”

“First time for everything. Get moving or get lost.”

Goth girl stared him down, but it wasn’t until other customers in the line started speaking up and telling him to “stop holding up the line” and that “people who cut in line have a special place in hell” that he finally moved, muttering angrily.

Someone from a table actually cheered.

Jackson wished he was Invisibilly so people wouldn’t keep staring at him. Clair looked deeply satisfied with the outcome.

“We’re paying for that girl’s coffee. Sorry for the mess, Jackson, but that was true goth girl solidarity. I either owe her coffee or my soul.”

He snorted despite himself.

“Preferably just coffee.”

They did pay for her tea, not coffee, and even invited her to sit with them when they realized there weren’t any other tables available.

The girl, Sam, was only there because it was the only cafe in town that had vegan options. This side of town, at least, but Jackson couldn’t tell her about the plethora of vegan food places in the monster side of town.

The three of them got to talking about what the town had to offer, because apparently Sam was here visiting a friend and didn’t know anything about the place. Then she started asking about the history of the town, saying she’d heard there were witch hunts back in the 1600s. Jackson and Clair had shared a look at this, but waved it off as rumors that came from tourists who confused Salem, Oregon with Salem, Massachusetts.

“Bummer, I really wanted to find some witch ghosts. Actually, do you guys have any spooky or haunted spots—”

Sam’s phone ringtone blared out— the Ghostbusters theme song —and she rolled her eyes at the caller ID.

“About time. Hey, Danny. Tucker with you? Cool, I’m at a cafe on the other side of town, I’ll head your way.”

She stood up, phone in one hand and tea in the other, and gave her temporary cafe buddies a friendly smile.

“Thanks for the tea, and for the satisfaction of telling an asshole off. See you guys around.”

They waved her off as she went back to the conversation on her phone. Clair thought she heard the word ‘ghosts’, but put the concern away. Lots of regular people were into the paranormal. There were even Ghost hunters all over Youtube. It was fun and dark and spooky. Clair used to watch them as a kid.

She never would’ve guessed she’d actually get to meet one, let alone be interviewed by said ghost. There was a lot in her life nowadays that she never thought she’d even get a chance to see, actually.

They sat in silence for a bit, before Jackson spoke up.

“Did- did she say she’d meet her friends on the other side of town?”

“Yup.”

They looked at each other. Jackson pressed his lips into a thin line.

“We should probably—”

Clair sighed.

“Yeah okay, fine. Let’s go.”

#they go to the Mawl to inform/interrogate the Ghouls only to find #Sam and Danny(Phantom) and werewolf!Tucker getting a tour from Frankie #*point at each other in spiderman meme*#this is kinda silly but fuck it #monster high #jackson jekyll #clair #danny phantom #sam manson #dp x mh #uggghh i have to back to do my stupid assignment

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moopsy-daisy · 8 months

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Make Your Own Cosmetics, Get What You Actually Want

Once you've been in zero waste, eco friendly, solarpunk/lunarpunk circles for a while, it's easy to forget the steps you took when you started. There are lots of DIY projects I've been doing for 10+ years now, and I keep doing them because they work (for me). Yet, when I sit back and think "am I doing enough?" I always gloss over the myriad things that have become part of my everyday life.

Making these things won't save the environment, but you'll get products that meet your needs on your terms, will save you money, and you won't have to worry about a company discontinuing your favorites. Plus, it seems like a lot less packaging to just buy a brick of beeswax and toss in some kitchen stuff you already had to make makeup.

Henna

I got really lucky, I always wanted red hair and henna is a natural dye that only comes in red. Well, more of a coppery tone. But, here's the other cool thing: the henna process is anti-fungal and controls dandruff. Half the time, I remember to color my hair because my scalp starts getting itchy 6+ weeks later and I start to get flakes. Coloring my hair takes care of my scalp and I don't need dandruff shampoo to keep it healthy. It's cost-effective, buying high quality henna for a year's worth of color (for my length and thicc hair) is about $60 for 18-months' of materials. I mix it when I need it, and keep the powder in the freezer. Pro-tip, if you or your partner don't like the grassy, hay-like smell of henna, add cardamom or ginger powder to the mix. It doesn't change the color but it'll knock down the scent.

I learned everything I needed to know about Henna for Hair here: http://hennaforhair.com and buy through Catherine's store because I know I'm getting real, quality henna powder.

Oh and a cloth wrap for your hair will let you keep the henna covered without wasting plastic wrap every time you redo your roots. I've been using the same 'turbie twist' wraps for years now. I made them from old t-shirts and they're stained as fuck. Who cares? This is basically their only job.

Carmine Lip Color

No, it isn't vegan. Yes, it's made of bugs. It's also a spectacular color, the insects aren't abused in the process of gathering or raising. They're actually parasites on nopal cactus, they have a simple niche and serve it well. I learned this lip stain recipe from Humblee & Me, and have found that the anti-bacterial doesn't seem to be necessary, ymmv. A 2.5 gram sample pack of carmine from TKB has lasted me almost a year and I wear this almost daily. I find that the glycerin really helps keep my lips from drying out too badly, so I wear my lip stain even when I'm not planning on being seen by other people. I spend about $20 on lip color for a year and that's including the bottles I use to store it (tiny eyedroppers work best imo) and the glycerin. Not quite zero waste but darn close.

Note: I'm still trying to find a simple recipe for black goth lipstick that I like. So far, my attempts have had a nasty texture and aren't worth the trouble.

Eyebrow Fill

My favorite brand of eyebrow liner discontinued the best color I ever found, so I decided to make my own. Beeswax, cocoa powder, activated charcoal, and almond oil made a little pot of eyebrow fill that suits my needs beautifully. Go super light on the charcoal until you know you've got the color you want. My brows are pretty dark but not fully black, so I do a dark chocolate sort of shade. I think I made my last batch about 11 months ago and it's still half full. I use it daily, apply with an angled brush, and it's never given me breakouts or anything. I don't even wash it off, because I am lazy.

Body Powder/Dry shampoo

Growing up in California, I didn't need this stuff. Living in Oregon? Summer would be awful without body powder. It's also a nice way to have a fragrance on. Pour your favorite perfume (I love Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab oils) onto a cotton ball, put that ball in a jar with a bunch of corn starch. Shake. Leave it for a month. You now have scented body powder. It's a decent dry shampoo, too, I just brush it into my dark hair and it disappears.

Tooth Powder

There is NOTHING wrong with using conventional toothpaste if it meets your needs. I have particular reasons for using tooth powder. These include hating the taste of most toothpaste and needing to avoid fluoride because of my particular thyroid condition. (Fluoride isn't bad for everyone! It isn't ideal for everyone. Figure out what you need!) I make my own tooth powder, it works well enough for me and I don't hate brushing my teeth like I used to. 1 part baking soda, 1 part bentonite clay, some ground cloves. Mix it up, keep in a glass jar (metal will bond with the clay, bad things happen, this is why we use glass or plastic for storage). $20 of materials = LOADS of tooth powder.

Cutting Hair

It's way easier than you think. I cut my own hair and I do a graduated bob which is a little more complex than most at-home cuts. I taught myself. I use decent shears (don't use scissors) and a Wahl hair trimmer set. Learn this skill on yourself, and when people find out you can do hair, they'll come to you for their own needs. Great way to provide mutual aid (one of my parents is trans and getting haircuts in a salon would be extremely stressful for her, so I cut her hair and save her money and suffering). You could also do skill trades! I trade haircuts for massages from a massage therapist friend, for example.

Protip: Dust yourself with body powder before cutting hair, it makes the little shards of cut hair way less prone to sticking to you. You'll still want a shower but it'll just be less icky.

#diy #lunarpunk #solarpunk #carmine #henna #makeup

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tht0nesimp · 2 years

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out of this universe 1/?

TW: insecurity, possible ED, portals, fantasy, slight age gap(?), simps, indulgence, pills, mirrors, crying, shivering, yanderes, they are attached really easily, cellars. basements, mention of nudity, mention of sex, reader canonically is a tumblr writer, hypersexuality(?), death, blood, a single kick, alot of characters.' fake' identity's. bullying, isolation, schools, reader has a mom, kind of goth reader, bat, knife, scrapes, cuts, scabs, ddlg(?), swearing, gun, sibling, walking, plot, drugs, plushies, running,sweat, drugging,

you awoke to your mom pulling your blankets down a bit before walking away and closing the door behind her, you leaned up and turned stretching and getting up looking in a mirror you had on your desk and pulled your shirt up and sighing noticing the blemishes on your face before leaning a little to grab a oversized black and white sweater and a grey plaid skirt sitting on your bed and scrolling through all your yandere tumblr posts reading a few and fantasizing while putting on some knee high black and white checkered socks putting your phone away and walking down stairs getting some cereal and your sibling gets up walking up as you sit down and sigh once again checking your tumblr again and finishing up staring checking the time and groaning putting on some loafers as you approached the door opening it and lt stepping out and closing it behind you

you walked on the side walk on your phone taking long strides and eating a lolipop you had in your backpack as your headphones sat comfortable on your head

you felt a small bit of wind reach your legs and you felt yourself get goosebumps and hurried a bit not wanting to get a tardy as the school came in view and you ran jaywalking and all before stopping with your hands on knees looking down and furrowing your brows before a portal swallowed you closing behind you leaving a pair of headphones on the concrete

"thats not great..." eddie joked as they sat around an opening in the forest where a portal in the sky had sat for a few minutes and eddie and the others tried to figure it out. a girl fell through and they all stared for a moment before eddie had knife to your throat and they were questioning you steve holding his bat to you at times before eddie stole your phone and began scrolling through your tumblr laughing his ass off as the others joined him, you felt your face go red and stole the phone from him and he finished up his laughing fit

"well your pretty hot your self sugar" billy approached you and you froze like a deer in headlights as you felt his breath down your neck before running like the wind away feeling your legs begin to hurt as you reach closer to the tree line before being grabbed by steve and being dragged back in a chokehold and they all continued walking around you and asking questions as steve moved to hold you by your stomach instead of your neck allowing you to squirm your way out and stare at all of them "should we indulge or nah?" steve questioned and most of the group nodded while you desperately shook your head

trying to reason as the group continued circling you and one of them grabbed your hair " watch it you dickfac-" steve covers your mouth and interrupts "1. language, 2 that was rude" you smiled sarcastically at him " did i hurt your fuckin feelings asshat" you felt a swift slap from mike and were taken aback at this but remained stubborn against the man "oi you fuckin" you felt a punch to your jaw and fell spitting out a tiny bit of blood the young boy scoffing and walking back with his hands in his pocket as the rest leaned over you

"i think its time for bed kid" you felt a rag over your mouth and shook your head and managed to land a kick on a young womans leg and she stumbled back a bit before everything was covered in black

#yandere scenarios #fandom #yandere stranger things #xreader #yandere eddie munson #yandere male #yandere mike #yandere eddie #smut #yandere #yandere steve #yandere steve harrington #yandere robin #yandere eleven #yanderexreadeer #CandiesActualFics

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felixschokehold · 1 year

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Request by @xxx-wounded-angel-xxx:

Premise: Shy, short goth reader mate x Felix, the perfect husband.

Click below to continue reading this small ;) one-shot.

Felix found it incredibly endearing; since the first moment he met his mate, he made a passing comment on how tiny she was. She stood at barely 5'2", and Felix took it upon himself to call her Thumbelina.

The way she blushed every time, even to this day, over the nickname, made him smile. He swore he could feel his heart almost begin to beat again every time she buried her face in the pillows or smacked her book over her face trying to hide away from his affectionate nickname.

His teasing comments made her feel as if she'd blush so hard blood would seep from her pores; "Ah, I am lucky I am not a human. To have to bend down so far just to lift you in my arms to kiss as often as I do surely would make me feel sore and old", "perhaps I need to tie a long stringed balloon to your hair ties so I do not lose you in the grocery store", "if you were any smaller, I could slide you into my pocket".

Felix loved being able to reach into the cupboards for her; dishes, food, spices, tea, coffee. He enjoyed following her around bookstores and libraries, grabbing the books her fingers stretched to reach. He loved watching his mate having to crawl across the bed to put her side of the sheets on, when all he had to do was kneel down and barely reach out with both arms.

It wasn't until recently, though, that his sweet, gentle little Thumbelina began to buy platform shoes. Not her regular 4 to 5 inch ones. No, she had been purchasing platform heels that reached almost ten inches.

"Do you notice anything different today?" His mate asked him the first time she slid the 8-inch platform shoes on. She held her head high, proud of her purchase.

As Felix walked to her, still towering far above, he tilted his head curiously. "I don't, Thumbelina." He replied teasingly. "You're still too far away."

She frowned at him comically and turned to grab her tea on the counter and nearly slammed her head into the cupboards, not used to having to mind anything above her head.

Felix had reached out, covering her forehead with his hand to stop her from hurting herself. "Don't you know, my love?" He asked quietly, lifting his mate into his arms and setting her on the table.

"What?" She responded, trying to hide her bashfulness behind endearing grumpiness as she folded her arms across her chest.

Felix's large hands moved to her shoes, unlacing them delicately so as to not damage them. "I love you as you are. You do not need to go to such lengths, there is nothing I am unhappy with."

"But you always make fun of me." His mate replied, her brows knitting together.

"I am not intending to be mean to you. One of my favorite things about you, about us, is the height difference." Felix set her shoes aside and ran his cold hands on her thighs. "I love being able to easily carry you around. I love feeling so capable and strong when I am around you, to protect you from anything." Felix placed a small kiss on her forehead. "And I love how my body engulfs yours when we lay together at night."

Thumbelina's face turned a deep, deep red. "Prove it."

With a sly smile, Felix gathered her so easily into his arms, as he had done hundreds of times before, and whisked her away to their room.

#felix #felix volturi #felix one shot #felix headcanon #felix x short mate #my post #own post #my fic #request #volturi

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burythecarnival · 1 year

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well met, friends. apologies for my month-long absence & not being able to reblog your content hoping to help you get sales, followers etc. i look horrible here, i know but look at my tiny goth brows.

for those of you who don't know, i have scleroderma (which is a nasty connective tissue autoimmune disease that causes constant tissue growth on your internal organs as well as the fingers, toes, etc.) i also have ehlers-danlos syndrome, arthritis & fibro due to the sclero.

i was hospitalized twice this last month with severe edema & a collection of doctors do not know what is causing it. while the popular opinion is due to my sclero, i am scheduled for them to check my heart valves & vascular function. this shit is fucking PAINFUL & i have a pretty decent pain tolerance from dealing with fifteen years of chronic pain. i am living in bed. i have needed help getting up, walking outside & getting to the bathroom just to fucking pee. this has effected my mental health (which i think is valid) so, i am incredibly depressed, hopeless & have had some dark thoughts lately. i am just so tired after years of this shit.

if you have made it this far, may mara bless your sweet face. i wanted to let people know where i have been especially since i have become friendly with some of you on here.

luv, cuddles & cauldron bubbles, the ghost queen 👻

#i am so fucking sad #scleroderma #edema #ehlers danlos syndrome #disabled creator

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sidhewrites · 10 months

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three chapters in three days. Don't ask me how but it happened. Tag list is getting slightly longer, so I'm moving it to the bottom of the post now :)

Some of this chapter taken from the previous version of this project, but most of it is new.

Project Info

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

So I’m in the graveyard.

I’m not proud.

For the record, I did finish my ice cream first.

I hide my hair under a hood, more to keep it protected from any potential rain than to hide. I don't exactly stand out in a college town like this, with plenty of other young people of varying genders, sexualities, and hair styles. But it does help me hide a little better as I duck behind an eroded old headstone to spy.

If the team notices me, they don’t care. There’s seven people in all. Lourdes and Mick are the most recognizable as the hosts, but I can guess at everyone else's roles the director, their manager, the camera operator, the gaffer, and the sound technician. They argue about shooting schedules and locations, and whether this headstone is more photogenic than that one. Because, you know, carved rocks are really important for setting the mood.

The sound tech splits off, holding the boom mic this way and that with a furrowed brow. After a few minutes, she returns to the team with her concerns. “Do you think the rain will come back tonight? I’m not sure how clear our sound will turn out if it does.”

“You think we’ll lose the vocals in the background noise?”

I suppress a groan, and mutter, “Literally all your vocals are background noise.” It's so easy to influence how you hear the sound just by putting a subtitle underneath. Humans search for patterns in everything, from rock formations that look like faces, to random sounds that maybe kind of a tiny bit sound like someone whispering.

A voice hissed into my ear, cold breath on my skin: "Lies."

I yelped and fell over in my scramble to escape. "Jesus shit!"

A young woman sat next to me, laughing delicately. "Sorry, sorry. You looked so focused just then, I couldn't pass up the opportunity."

I don't know how she snuck up on me with a wardrobe like that. She's not just goth, but Gothic, with full Victorian regalia. Her dress had poofy sleeves and a bustle and everything, not to mention the black veil over her long, startlingly pale face made all the paler when compared to her dark hair. It felt like she could have chosen something slightly more practical to wear when kneeling in the mud to scare innocent people who absolutely weren't planning sabotage, but she also looked really good in the getup, so who am I to judge?

Okay, yeah, that was kind of funny. Despite the residual terror, I laughed as my pulse slowly returned to normal. "Okay, yeah, fair. That's fair."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm only 80% sure you didn't scare me to death."

She nodded, and looked back over to the group, who miraculously didn't seem to care about the fact that I'd screamed just a minute ago. Granted, we're far from the only people in the graveyard, but I'm still counting myself as lucky. I got comfortable and looked over as well. The team was still discussing the pros and cons of trying to catch any background vocals, and I scoffed.

"I can't imagine they really believe that stuff.

They hear a shoe scuffing and think it’s some long-dead spirit saying, get out.”

The woman shrugs. Her long face makes a delicate, benevolent expression, and I really have to admire her dedication to the goth aesthetic. “Maybe the shoe wants them to get out.”

I snort. “Maybe.”

“They do look rather serious about it all, don’t they?”

“Serious?” I peek over the headstone again to see the camera crew discussing angles. “I guess so, yeah. They’re probably behind schedule since they're still location scouting. According to their social media, this video's supposed to go out in a week."

“Hm.”

“Hm?” I glance over to see her looking at me. Even her eyes are dark, and I resist the urge to make comparisons to pools of water. There’s nothing poetic about two girls kneeling in the dirt behind a headstone at dusk.

"They're making a video, you say?"

"Yep. It's the Haunted Archivists. I think they just reached two million subscribers last month."

"Ah! That makes sense." I glance over just in time to see a mischievous gleam in her eye. "Since they're already behind schedule, I think we ought to help them along, don't you think?"

"What do you mean?"

It's hard not to melt under her smile. "It's like you said. They hear a shoe scuffing and think it's a spirit trying to communicate."

It's even harder not to swoon at the idea of someone just as ready to sabotage these people as I am. I think I do a pretty good job sounding very calm and collected as I answer, "Sounds like they plan to start filming tonight."

Sure enough, the script supervisor or director or manager or whatever is hammering in the fact that call time was 10 pm, no exceptions.

"Shall we assume that's a call time for us as well?" she asks.

“You read my mind. Oh -- my name is Kaz, by the way.”

“Kaz, lovely! And you can call me Lucy. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Uh -- you, too? You, too.” I’m not going to ask her out for coffee. I’m not. I broke up with Josie two weeks ago. Instead of saying what my brain wants to say, I manage to shrug. “I have an EMF emitter at my apartment, and probably some other tools too, if you really want to mess with them.” The emitter was Josie's. I'm sure she wouldn't mind. Our schedules didn't line up for the next few days, and, even if they did, she wasn't texting me back about coming to pick up her stuff.

Lucy looks thrilled. She claps a hand over her heart and shakes her head. “Oh, we would be so wicked, wouldn’t we? Good young ladies wouldn’t dare do such things to those just trying to make entertaining documentaries, I’m sure.”

“I’m sure!”

“I hope they won't be too disappointed with a few whispered words. Most people like to see the ghosts limned in the moonlight, pale specters against the dark trees. Shall we reconvene once the moon is up?”

I stammer, realizing I’ve been staring, and nod. “Right. Yeah -- yeah, let’s do that. I’ll go get the EMF emitter and stuff. You want me to bring you a coffee?”

“Fantastic!” Lucy beams, first at me, and then out at the team once more. “I’m quite alright without one, but I’ll haunt you if you don’t come back.”

“Promise?” I say before thinking.

“I swear it on my grave.” She pats the headstone in front of us, solemn as can be, and giggles.

She’s so goth. It’s so cute, I can’t stand it. I hope she haunts me forever.

tag list:

@adaughterofathena

@ambreeskyewriting

@carnelianflames

@feather-dancer

@halfbloodlycan

@nadunacreates

@serenanymph

@vigilantdesert

#writeblr #writing #writers on tumblr #wlw fiction #supernatural fiction #supernatural romance #graveyard lesbians #gl chapter

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