#Custom half soap boxes

[customboxesworldsblog]

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#Custom half soap boxes #Custom soap packaging #half soap boxes wholesale #packaging boxes #soap boxes #custom boxes #packaging in USA

[ceilidho]

prompt: IKEA soap/reader fic. PART 4. (read 1, 2, 3) tags: dubcon; nsfw

-

You only realize after the fact that you may have miscalculated in thinking that this could be a one-time thing between the two of you. 

After listening to Johnny bitch and moan during the Christmas party about having to take time off work to spend the holidays with his very religious family, you delude yourself into thinking you’ll finally be able to have some peace and quiet around the store. Not literally, of course. Working during the holidays is always a recipe for exhaustion—parents coming in at the last minute to demand toys that have long since sold out, fights breaking out in every other aisle as customers fight for the last palatable set of Christmas ornaments and boxed fruit cake. 

You’re not delusional enough to think that work will be a piece of cake, but you are selfishly a little happy that you’ll finally get some time to breathe without Johnny hovering over your shoulder at all hours of your shift. Seasonal shoppers are as exhausting as always, but you get to sit alone in the breakroom with a cup of coffee in the morning right before your shift without someone staring at you or breathing into your personal bubble. 

Johnny spends his entire time off blowing up your phone, sending you pictures of his childhood home, calling you during your breaks, and sending you weird videos that seem to have been filmed entirely in the dark where you can’t see or hear anything apart from some weird squeaks and one loud grunt at the very end of the video that sounds kind of like—you close the video.

You spend the first few days of January dreading his return. The day of is like a shock to your nervous system, the whole morning spent pouring coffee with a trembling hand. 

“Hiya gorgeous,” he purrs when you clock in for your shift. You’re somewhat used to Johnny sneaking up behind you, so you don’t flinch this time when you feel the length of his body press up against you at the time clock. 

“Johnny, it’s seven in the morning,” you mutter out through pursed lips, shoulders stiff when he puts his hands on them and digs his thumbs into the tender points of your back. You bite back a moan.

“Missed ye, kitten. Cannae believe I went a whole week without hearing you purr.”

He could’ve phrased that a thousand other ways, but he just had to choose the one that would make you wince. He digs his thumbs in again, trying to push the moan out of you, but you tamp it down. You hold back a shudder when he plants his nose onto the crown of your head and inhales, drawing your scent into his lungs. 

“Where’ye assigned ta today? Jeff owes me a favour—gonna ask him if I can spend the day with ye so we can catch up.” 

You go still when he drops a firm kiss to the side of your head. “I’m…not sure. I haven’t checked the schedule yet.” It’s a half-lie. You may not have checked the schedule yet, but you know from having briefly chatted with your manager this morning in the parking lot where you’ll be spending most of your day.

Still, it means that you get to shake off Johnny for a bit. “Lemme go check for ye, okay, hen? Stay here, a’right?”

You watch him jog off down the hall to the breakroom before finally leaving. It’ll be better for you if you’re gone before he comes back. 

The first hour of your day is spent on softlines until Priya in jewellery randomly comes down with a chill and gets sent home early, forcing you to cover her section. Usually that wouldn’t be such a bad deal—it means you get to spend your shift helping people try on bracelets and rings, restocking the earring display, and leaning against the counter for hours at a time. It’s not a particularly busy station.  

While you're assigned to the jewellery section though, Johnny pops out of nowhere as you're helping a customer contemplating a birthday ring for his fiancé. With the kind of confidence that you’ve come to expect from Johnny, he uses your hand to model some of the rings, but this time it feels oddly weirdly intense. When he slides the first ring onto your finger, you can feel the way he holds his breath, even shudders a bit. He presses himself right up against you behind the display counter, hardness pressing against your hip. 

It doesn’t take long for your customer to leave. Johnny’s demeanour is off-putting, concerning even. You can’t fault the guy for being rightfully repulsed by the way Johnny crowds up against you like you’re alone together. 

“What are you doing?” you hiss through your teeth.

“Cannae help it, hen. I ken ye wanna wait, but it jus’ makes me a bit emotional seein’ my girl wearing a ring I put on.”

He blinks down at you with big, blue eyes, the picture of innocence. You should’ve anticipated there being a danger in letting Johnny stew over that on his own. Of course he’d come to his own conclusions, even one as deranged as thinking of your hook up as a step towards dating. You can’t help but side eye him. 

“We—we’re not a couple, Johnny.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Ye just let anybody eat you out in the supply closet then? S’that right?” It’s said rhetorically, like he knows the answer already. You flinch at the slight though.

“That was—” you cut yourself off to take a breath, an ache growing behind your forehead, “—that was a…it was a one-time thing. You can’t just act like we’re dating.”

His lips turn down in a pout, displeasure rippling across his face. You brace yourself for the inevitable argument, for shit to hit the fan, because obviously that’s what’s brewing under the surface. You brace yourself for worse too because when you happen to glance around, you realize how few people are actually milling around in the area. 

Then, instead of losing his temper, Johnny’s eyes grow smoky, heavy-lidded, and the pout lifts into a lazy, playful grin. “A’right, kitty, no’ dating then. That’s fine wi’ me.”

This time it’s you that frowns, staring up at him dubiously. “…Really?” It feels too sudden, quicksilver. Johnny’s fiery by nature, short tempered on his best days and more likely to grit his teeth and bear the displeasure of not getting his way than happily giving into it. His sudden smile is at odds with the version of him that exists in your mind, furious at you for denying him. 

Maybe you’ve got him all wrong. 

The gleam in his eye betrays nothing, however. “I swear.” He leans closer to you then, fingers fiddling with the name tag pinned over your chest on your work vest, straightening it. “Doesnae mean we have ta give the rest up though. Ye liked what we did in the closet, right, hen?”

It feels like he’s sucked the air out of the room, as big as it is. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about that.”

“Och, c’mon, kitty,” Johnny breathes, hunching just a little over and into your space, making the moment feel private, just the two of you. “Had to talk about it eventually. Did ye just expect that everything would go back to normal after ye let me eat ye out? Hey—” he catches you when you try to make a move to step away from him, wrapping a big hand around your wrist and tugging you closer to him, “—listen, kitty—it doesnae have to be anything serious, right? That’s what’s making ye all jumpy and nervous? I’ll lick your pussy, free of charge. Dinnae need any labels. How’s that sound, kitty? Dick on demand?”

It should repulse you. The way he speaks to you is crass, crude. His voice is hushed, haggard, fur stretched taut over stone—and yet, your hands tremble, just a little. It tempts you. Purring Scottish burr, lapis lazuli eyes, bristle cheeks that you still remember scraping up your inner thighs. He’s a package you can’t imagine sending back.

“You won’t get…you promise not to get weird about it?” you ask.

His smile curls up, impish. “Cross my heart, kitten.”

Maybe you’re delusional enough to think that you can have your cake and eat it too. There’s a voice in your head telling you to face the facts, but you disregard it as if you haven’t been working with Johnny for months. As if you aren’t aware of his penchant for saying or doing anything to get his way. It’s maybe naive of you. 

All you know is that he smothers a laugh when you tell him you’ll think about it. Knows he’s got you right where he wants.

You don’t fight when he drags you into the single-stall bathroom towards the end of your shift, letting him position you in front of the mirror before sinking to his knees behind you. Forces you to watch the way you come apart on his tongue, not giving you his fingers until you beg him to, the whispered plea a hairsbreadth away from becoming a scream. 

“Oh, did she miss me?” Johnny breathes, a happy laugh in his voice when he runs the broad side of his tongue over your entrance from the back. “Fuck, look at that. Winked at me ‘n everythin’. Hi darling, missed ye too.”

You don’t think you’ll ever be the same after hearing that come out of his mouth. You go hot all over again when you clench involuntarily, equal parts turned on and horrified. He sniggers before trying to cram his whole tongue up into you. 

There’s a moment of panic when Johnny draws up behind you after making you come and you hear him undo his pants. There’s nowhere for you to go with your pants still looped around your ankles, underwear pulled all the way down as well. You hear yourself hiss a startled Johnny when he slots a fat cock between your thighs, staring dumbly at the reflection of him behind you. At your back, he seems massive, lean and trim but towering over you, broad. 

He shushes you. “Dinnae be selfish, hen—gotta get mine too. Jus’ gonna fuck your thighs, dinnae fret.”

You squeak when he pushes your thighs together forcefully, dragging his cock over your folds to wet himself. Watching Johnny fuck is nothing like staring down at him when he eats you out. He pants harsh and ragged into the side of your head, nips at your ear. The glint in his eyes goes animalistic, vacant. Human desire recedes, subsumed into the animal part of his brain with the single-minded need to fuck. 

The only thing keeping him from driving up into you, accidentally or not, is the way you keep your thighs pressed together. A warm, tight channel for him to push his cock into. Thick fingers dig into your waist, sure to leave bruises. You wince when lean hips pound against your backside, growing frantic as need overtakes him. You flirt at the edge of panic, certain that at any second, he’ll pull your thighs apart and nudge the head of his cock up into you. 

“Jus’ like that, fuck,” he grunts. “Be a good little fuckin’ girl and jus’ let me—”

His tongue lolls out on a particularly rough thrust, hands groping over your belly and up to your chest, slipping his hand under your shirt and bra to pinch your nipple. He twists it mean, nasty, until you have no choice but to grunt through grit teeth, eyes watering. You feel like a doll meant for his pleasure, no choice but to grip the sides of the sink and let Johnny use you until he comes. 

“Fuck,” Johnny groans, eyes going half-lidded. “Love makin’ this pussy come. Love gettin’ her all messy and wet. Lettin’ me between your thighs even when I make ye nervous—fuck, ‘m gonna come, ‘m gonna—fuck, fuck, fuck—”

White come stripes the sink in front of you, thick and viscous. Paints the inside of your thighs as well when he drags his hips back until just the head of his cock sits nestled up against your sex. Hyperconscious of where it tags your inner lips, that there’s no barrier between the two of you, just come and skin. 

The full body shake shocks you, a ripple from your heels to the top of your head. 

His free hand grasps you by the hair when you try to slip away. “Ye gonna clean up your mess, baby?”

You glance back up at his reflection in the mirror, trying to suss him out. Shark-like eyes meet yours. Something you’ve seen in glances before finally staring back at you with full force. You reach for the paper towel dispenser with a shaking hand. 

“Nah,” Johnny scolds, giving you a shake. “With your mouth.”

The command hangs in the air, no joke or laugh to undercut it. His eyes read serious to you, still dark. No leniency present in the blue. 

You stare down at his come on the sink, slack-jawed. “You don’t seriously mean—”

“Jus’ kidding, silly,” he chuckles, giving a teasing bite to your earlobe and tugging. The tension in the air disperses. “Got ye, huh?” 

You force a laugh. “Yeah…got me.”

#i cant believe this shit is at 10k and i still have another part to write #ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #soap x reader #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap mw2 #soap cod #soap x you #soap/reader #ikea soap

[ididdedurmom]

More evil head cannons

I have silly ideas about the gang after the event of the story, everyone lives, except Bob

PONY:

Has a thousand yard stare when he zones out

Has the loudest, most disgusting, mucus filled cough ever

Actually really good at drawing

Has drawn every member of the gang at least twice

Loves physical touch, he leans on his friends when their sitting next to him.

Actually screams during horror movies, like loud genuine screams

Loves play fighting with Darry, like full on wrestling

Steve taught him how to drive

He either walks like a ghost or stomps, there is no in between

He can play one song on the guitar, and that’s it

His legs are super strong, so his kicks hurt really bad

He would be better at track, but his smoking habits hold him back

He feels jealous of Soda and Darry because they had more time with their parents

He and Darry have matching reading glasses

SODA:

He says “I’m just a girl” anytime he gets in trouble

He has used his pretty privilege to get out of being arrested multiple times

Despite how handsome he knows he is, he still feels super insecure about his looks

He steals from the DX station constantly

He and Steve spend hours gossiping about their customers once both of their shifts are over

A dog bit him when he was a kid, now he’s deathly afraid of them

He loves physical affection, hugging him is the best way to cheer him up

Absolute candy addict

Candy is the #1 item he steals from the DX

He broke his dominant hand once, and now his handwriting is permanently ruined

He reads insanely slow and monotone when he reads out loud

He either sleeps like a rock, or wakes up from the slightest sound, there is no in between

He lives in his flannel, that thing hasn’t been washed in literal years

He suffers from middle child syndrome, he knows his brothers love him, but they don’t pay enough attention to him

DARRY:

He hates his jobs, he knows he has to go but he can’t stand them

All of his coworkers are old and they treat him like a child (which he’s kind of okay with in a way)

He loves watching cartoons but he feels like he’d be wasting his time

He sneezes like a dad

He wakes up at 4 am and works out immediately

Loves compliments and words of affection

Doing favors is his love language

He has the whitest legs ever, he’s all tan on the top and snow white on the bottom

His tan ends where his pants start

Small bits of his hair are grey, he doesn’t know

He has a fear of abandonment

He is insanely flexible for a man of his size, like he can touch the floor standing up with ease

He hit a dog with his car once and cried for 2 hours straight

He loves cuddling on the couch with his brothers, it helps him relax

He despises Curly Shepard, he’s civil with Tim, but he HATES Curly

When he comes home from his ski trips with his old friends, he actually looks his age

A woman once assumed he was Pony’s father, and it made him die inside a little

He can’t stand Mother and Fathers Day

He was mad at Steve when he found out he taught Pony how to drive

TWO-BIT:

He and Dally bond by harassing women

He has a box full of things he’s stolen

His slight alcoholism stems from his father

He let’s his sister paint his nails, and he shows them off proudly

He gets his nails painted before rumbles

He watches soap operas with his mother every night

He can play the trumpet

He has never purchased a pack of cigarettes, only stolen

He listens to metal

When he passes Johnny’s house, he has to actively stop himself from walking in and beating Johnny’s parents half to death, especially his father

Its not that he doesn’t want a job, I mean he doesn’t, it’s that he thinks he’d only mess up whenever they had him do

He constantly forgets to brush his teeth

Pop and beer are the only things he drinks, he doesn’t touch water

He religiously wears Mickey Mouse merch, you will never catch him in a plain shirt

Baby Pony and him got along really well, he was kinda like Pony’s goofy cousin

Two-Bit and Darry have been friends since they were little kids

Two has no plans for his future, and it weighs on him

He broke both of his elbows once

His teachers have kinda given up on him, they just treat him like a bother instead of a student

STEVE:

He messes up Pony’s hair every chance he gets

He uses the most hair grease out of everyone

He has had the same comb for 3 years

He constantly smells like oil

The underside of his nails are always black, no matter how much he washes his hands

He and Soda have matching scars from a shared failed attempt to climb a barb wired fence

He is terrified of the police

He and Soda make your mom jokes at each other, despite neither of them having mothers

His voice is scarily deep when he wakes up

He and Two-Bit have an inside joke no one in the gang understands

He, Soda, and Two-Bit all have matching stick and poke tattoos

He hates his father, and by extension the fathers of Johnny and Two-Bit

He and Dally don’t hang out much, but when they do they are absolute menaces

Dally and him steal cars and hub caps together

He is genuinely upset by the size of his nose

JOHNNY:

He’s dyslexic

His handwriting is atrocious

His best subject is math

He and the gang all picked out stickers to put on his crutches

He loves sleeping around his friends

His hands are rough

He can’t stand the smell of beer, unless it’s one of the gang

He and Curly hate each other for literally no reason

Pony has slowly been teaching him to read better

No matter how much grease he puts in his hair, it won’t stay back

He hates going out in public because people always look at him funny

He hates looking at his burn scars

He, Dally, and Ponyboy watch sunsets together

He either sleeps at the Cutis’s house, Two-Bit’s house, Steve’s (very rarely), or Dallas’s place.

He’s not allowed to sleep in the lot anymore

He has tons of freckles, you just can’t see them against his skin

He loves sleeping outside when he wants to

He never wants children, he’s to scared he’ll become his father

His pain tolerance is so high that sometimes he won’t even notice when he gets injured

He likes how defensive Dallas is of him, makes him feel confident

He smokes marijuana with Dally sometimes, he’s super anxious when they do though because he doesn’t want to get arrested

DALLY:

He will not talk about his feelings

The cops forced him to go to therapy, it didn’t fix anything

He is amazing at lying

The police know him by name

He hasn’t told the gang much about the past other than where he came from and that he doesn’t talk to his folks

Darry nicknamed him “Rat”

He actually feels bad when Darry yells at him

He gets sun burns very quickly

He has his own personal stench

He doesn’t want Johnny to end up like him

He cried for 3 hours straight when he found out Johnny was still alive, it is his most embarrassing moment

He chugs drinks insanely fast

He can’t read very well

He needs glasses but he thinks he’d look like a wimp if he had any

Even though he knows he could have an asthma attack from coughing to hard, he still doesn’t carry his inhaler

He was happy when he thought he was going to die

Then he woke up and had an epiphany about life, it didn’t do to much, but now he knows death isn’t the only option

He proudly shows off the burn marks on his arm

He loves pushing Johnny around in his wheelchair

He listens to outlaw music and Frank Sinatra

He loves horror movies

He toned down his bad behavior once he got out of the hospital, he’s still a dick though

That’s it or whatever. I hope you like them, I’m sorry if some of them don’t make sense. I’m just so silly. I apologize for my horrible grammar lol. Feel free to tell me some of your head cannons!! :D

#the outsiders #johnny cade #dally winston #two bit mathews #ponyboy curtis #sodapop curtis #darry curtis #steve randle #headcanon #silly guy

[syoddeye]

unsolicited

semi creepy little thing inspired by @pfhwrittes's incredible soap x reader roommate piece and this thought i had once upon a time. ~1k words. unedited, because i'm about to be dragged out to watch sports. gaz x reader. cw: dick pic, stalking, masturbation

“That one’s no good,” A tongue clicks. 

You turn from your close study of the tube of tomato paste in your hand and find a man inches from your side. The aisle was empty save for you a second ago. Either he’s light on his feet or a ghost. A twinned tingling of your belly and spine fires off mixed signals to your brain: Are we scared or horny?

Both. 

He's handsome—he knows it, too, judging by the hook of his smile and the slight crinkle of his nose. He sports a scar on his cheek and the right amount of stubble. He looks down at you, all smug, like he's saved you from an unforgivable culinary mistake. He tears his deep brown eyes off you to reach toward the top shelf and selects a beautifully branded sealed box of paste. It's artisanal, not within your price range, and he sets it in your handbasket like you're shopping for dinner together.

“You’ve got to treat yourself to nice things once in a while.”

Oh, he thinks he’s so quick with it, doesn’t he?

You smile so wide it pushes the apples of your cheeks up like a cartoon chipmunk. It usually does the trick of deterring smarmy little bastards like this one. “Wow, thank you, what a gentleman.” The feigned saccharine lilt of your voice hurts after a long day on the phone, but the look on his face when you swap the pastes is worth it. You leave the fancy one on the shelf and continue down the aisle for pappardelle. 

He finds you in produce. He doesn’t immediately approach, giving you space while you grab an onion and garlic, but he circles.

“So, what’s on our menu tonight?” He asks, inspecting the leek as you place a vine of tomatoes into the basket. He’s too close again. His hand lowers the vegetable to his own haul, purposefully skimming your skirt with the spindly leaves, letting the texture catch the fabric before he drops it in. Nutcase.

“I’m making pasta for my friends.” 

He chuckles.

The dance continues around the store. He’s clearly following you through the store, not trying to hide it at all. He ‘helps’ you at the dairy. Heavy cream’s better than light, don’t you think? The spices. Babe, we can afford name brand. The meat counter. Bacon? No, no, here. Pancetta. You want that meat. Trust me. He’s insistent and inappropriate, yet his voice drips with the weirdest charm. Calls you ‘babe’ and ‘sweetheart’. You let him continue. You should find an employee and tell him to buzz off, but he’s not really doing anything other than raising your grocery budget. Maybe you do deserve nice things, though. You sit on a seesaw, bouncing between sick interest and appropriate unease.

You’d always been a thrill-seeker, but stringing along a beautiful, perverted, and officious stranger? Were your last few dates so terrible? 

By the time you reach checkout, you’re bored of his antics. He must be desperate to seal the deal and get your number, given how his approach escalates to trying to pay for your groceries.

“Is he bothering you?” The cashier asks bluntly, glaring daggers at your shadow. At the end of the counter, the bag boy’s head pops up, eyes wide at the question.

You glance at the hand, reaching past again to place a card on the counter. You catch half a name. Kyle. You look at the older man. “Yes, yes, he is.”

It’s a wonder what a few strategic smiles can do. They’re catnip to men like Gerald, the store manager who walks you out. He’s soft-spoken and apologetic and slips you a gift card. Your groceries are free, and so is next week’s haul if you promise to remain a loyal customer. If being followed by a harmless model of a man pays for your food, you’ve done stranger things for money.

Still, you take the long way to Alyssa’s and look over your shoulder. That night, over pappardelle alla Fiesolana, Grocery Kyle becomes a joke. A morbid fantasy you and your friends giggle over between glasses of wine. He becomes a real fantasy that night when you snake your hands between your legs beneath the duvet and imagine him smirking down at you. Condescending the whole time, he talks you through it. He’s the type that likes the sound of his own voice. Your fingers curl, and you cum at the idea of him scolding you for being so easy.

The following day, somewhat hungover on your couch, you warm your hands with coffee and open Instagram. One new follower. It's not so odd; you have hundreds of followers. Mostly bots at this point, but you're too lazy to weed them out. You don't post as often anymore, either, nor do you share exciting things. Flowers, cats you meet on your walks, and the rare selfie. So when you see that the new follower liked a photo from nine years ago, that sick little twinge sparks something in your belly. A spark that grows when another notification pops up. And another. They're on a liking spree, driving through your memory lane.

When they like your very first post on the account, an awkward self-portrait in front of your first-year dorm eleven years ago, you finally investigate.

‘Sgt141’ has no profile photo. No description. No followers. No posts. Only follows you. It’s another bot spamming your notifications for some unknown reason.

You forget about it until you post a selfie from the gym two weeks later. Nothing scandalous, just showing off your growing biceps. Sgt141 is the first to like it, and minutes later, you receive a DM request. You fully expect a generic chain, formulaic message about being your own boss. The dick is a surprise.

A very pretty and completely unsolicited surprise.

In an instant, you know whose dick you’re looking at. 

You should be scared and report the message instead of screenshotting it. You should be disgusted, alarmed, and probably crying. Not stuffing your hand down your shorts.

Definitely shouldn’t respond.

> someone got a crush?

>> you have no idea.

> following me around the grocery store did it for you?

>> did a lot for me, actually.

> maybe you can follow me around the mall next time.

sgt141 changed the theme to Love.

#kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #cw stalking #cw unsolicited dick pic

[ayaboba]

bubbly haze !

summary: their favorite bath products

chars: albedo, alhaitham, ayaka, ayato, childe, cyno, diluc, eula, heizou, itto, kaeya, kaveh, kazuha, mona, nilou, raiden, tighnari, wanderer, xiao, yae miko, yelan, zhongli.

cws: modern au, hardly proofread, maybe grammatical errors? gn! reader.

scented bath bombs - childe, ayaka, heizou, kaveh,

they own an impressive collection of bath bombs of every scent, color and shape, all meticulously organised categorically by aesthetics and purpose. you’d think they’d treasure them like precious lost gems, locked away in some fancy glass cabinets, but you’d change your mind in a split second if you saw them in the bath.

it’ll start off with one, singular bath bomb. it dissolves and fizzes, seeping and mixing into the water around them. but we could up that a bit more. there is a whole box just in the cupboard…

soon the bathroom smells like one of those heavily perfumed candle shops.

personalized shampoo and conditioner - albedo, tighnari, eula, zhongli

their hair game is top tier!! it’s serious business to them, and hair products from local stores just don’t meet their sky-high standards. their the ones that order from those custom-made sites, and claim that their deluxe, personalized shampoo and conditioner is 100% worth half their income. whether it actually works or not, it doesn’t really matter because their hair is a thousand times more healthy and shiny than yours :(

fragrant soaps + body washes - diluc, alhaitham, ayato, yelan, wanderer, yae miko.

these people always smell good. and its not from heavy layers of perfume, cologne or body mists, their charming aroma stems from their immaculate taste in bath products.

though it may not look like it, these people are very knowledgeable when it comes to the best complimentary scents and combos. very often they’d mix and experiment around different types of soaps and consistencies, spending a concerning amount of time in the bathroom perfecting their concoctions. despite this, they do have a favourite signature scent. it might be something simple like lavender, or something unusual like sandalwood and aquarian rose. ??

exfoliating sugar scrubs - kaeya, kazuha, cyno, raiden ei, nilou, 

the same type of people who enjoys consistent self-care. they know that sugar scrubs aren’t particularly essential in baths, potentially harmful if overused, but it sure heightens and makes the experience even more delightful and comforting. the have only a few of different fragrances, but they treasure and savour them like its their last. after all, baths for them are like an escape from responsibilities and expectations, a gateway to temporary tranquility.

it doesn’t last that long, but at least they have their sugar scrubs. 

water - xiao, itto, mona.

it’s basic, but it does it’s job…to some extent. sure, sometimes it doesn’t mask some odor, but its nothing a few spritz of cheap body mist can’t hide! (minus xiao for this part) they don’t understand the point of expensive products. aren’t baths are just obligations to make sure your clean? you could be spending your money and time doing things much more important and useful.

…but they��d never say no to a paid appointment at the bathhouse!! 

© ayaboba. do not copy, modify or translate in any way.

#genshin fluff #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #albedo x reader #alhaitham x reader #ayaka x reader #ayato x reader #childe x reader #cyno x reader #diluc x reader #eula x reader #heizou x reader #itto x reader #kaeya x reader #kaveh x reader #kazuha x reader #mona x reader #nilou x reader #raiden x reader #tighnari x reader #wanderer x reader #xiao x reader #yae miko x reader #yelan x reader #zhongli x reader #anya writes ✧.*

[eosincuffs]

Now that I have a writing blog as well as a lurking blog I can finally showcase my appreciation to my favourite authors who inspired me to start writing.

This is a gift for @ceilidho because I am ready to commit arson for you <3.

Ikea!Soap/Creepy Coworker!Soap IS @ceilidho ‘s IDEA! FULL CREDIT TO HER IT IS SO FANTASTIC I WILL EAT MY SCREEN. There is so much juicy content on her blog iswtg I will combust. Adults go check it out you will not regret it!

- This is alternate AU where the Christmas party doesn’t happen, instead its New Years being celebrated. (We don’t celebrate Christmas here but New Years is a really big thing)

Not proof read.

1.1k words

TW Non-Consensual Contact | TW 18+ | TW Near Panic Attack

So anyways hehe on the theme of gift giving.

Shivers slowly trot down your spine, you feel a leaden punty of panic manifest itself in your diaphragm as you sweat cold like condensed metal. There’s eyes on you, there are always eyes on you. An unforgettable gelid pair of blue ponds surrounding a pinprick pupil that track you everywhere you go.

One would think you’d be used to Johnny’s attention by now, both kind and unkind. But recently he’s been acting especially unsettling. These past few days he doesn’t talk, he doesn’t help you throw out the trash, he just stares… and grins, his breathing heavy.

It started a few weeks ago, when you decided to work overtime to later take a little break and greet the New Years away from work, in the comfort of you own apartment. No one except management should have known of your plans, but of course nothing is confidential for their sweet golden boy. Soap sniffed out your shift change so fast you’d wondered if he had a past with drug abuse, as it was his arms that suffocated you on your second evening shift.

Stacking boxes your soul flinched out of your body when two limbs wrapped around your torso like snares on a hare’s neck. Even through the multiple layers of cloth you could feel the heat of his forearms on your abdomen, molten rock flowing through his veins keeping his muscles taught. His chest pinned yours against the steel frame of the fifteen meter shelving unit but the grip of his arms remained, forcing you into an awkward arching position as he curved himself over your back.

“Hey bonnie!”

The Scotts cheery voice all but lashed through the echoey establishment, like the crack of a whip. It’s dark, cold and wet outside, snow turning into slag tainting everything from cars to shoes, much like Johnny’s doing to you; ironic considering his callsign. But there’s practically no customers in conditions like these, meaning your coworkers wouldn’t need to come to the back to look for something, meaning your trapped in here, alone, with a man at least twice your size.

You don’t say anything back, still reeling from having your quiet, meditative moment interrupted by what feels like a hydraulic press. But there’s a soft yet hard object pressing to your front? You look down to see what it is but your own chest is smack dab against the shelving unit blocking your view. Your hips are arched away from it allowing him to adjust something? Is he measuring your torso? What’s happening ?

There’s too many things going on, heavy breathing in your ear, the heat against your back and the frigid metal against your front. One of his hands is moving something along your abdomen, another feels up your womb area and then your crotch? You yelp at that and are about to scream but he shoves you against the steel harder, and knocks the breath out of your chest, but his hand doesn’t go any further.

“Shh, shh, sorry pretty, just makin’ some introductions dinnae worry yer wee head about it”.

A clack resonates through the space, and less than half a meter away you can see a black marker cap rolling away on the floor. What the actual fuck is happening. He feels you up some more, then his hand moves back and forth horizontally as if to mark something and just like that he lets you go.

The situation lasted 3 minutes tops and yet now you know what sharks feel like when they’re pulled out the water, microchipped and thrown back in. You turn around and Soap’s got his back to you he’s kneeling down to pick up the marker cap, there’s something in his hand but its wrapped in white cloth. He closes the marker and rotates a little just to face you.

“Hope you’ve liked meeting your namesake, lass. I know she was honoured for sure!” He leaves then, laughing lightly to himself, flushed and giddy. Your namesake? Did he mean the-

It’s finally time for your much needed break from work, and certain blue eyed men with separation anxiety. At the end of your shift you carefully quick walk to your car before a hand on your shoulder stops you. Speak of the devil.

“Wey bonnie, why are ye in such a hurry to leave huh?”

You’re surprised he actually talked to you after weeks of silence, but you’re also exhausted.

“Soap, what do you need I-,”

He stops you mid sentence by thrusting a sizeable wrapped box into your hands, a charming, large blue bow sitting at the top, as if preening.

“I know yer takin’ days off, but I bought a lil somethin’ for ya. Hope you enjoy it, I really do.”

Well thats actually sweet of him. Granted you don’t know what’s actually in the box. But its still nice that he cared enough to give it to you!

He sends you off with a tight hug and a smirk; gleaming snarl in the night.

Back at your apartment you’re so hungry that you forget about his sincerity for a while. Before the reflection of the bow in your mirror catches your eye, you don’t have a lot of blue in your apartment and this one’s the same shade as his eyes.

A little excited you unwrap the box and lift up the lid only to freeze appalled when your greeted by a dick. It’s a dick, a cock in a box, Soap has gifted you a dildo. Yeah he’s mentioned you being irritated in the past, how a “good shag’ll put ye right in yer place,” but what the fuck.

Come to think of it, it’s strangely realistic: with veins and even moles. The heads a light pink and the base…looks like his skin colour.

Weeks ago, Soap was about a hair’s length away from having an aneurism when he looked at the fleshlight in his hands. A black line marking its plastic flesh, from his feeling up he reckoned that’s about where your womb should be. Quite clearly you wouldn’t be able to take all of him but he reckoned that’s nothing a little practice couldn’t fix. And hey, since he had a version of you to greet New Year’s with, why doesn’t he gift you a version of him that you can cherish too <3.

#cod x reader #dark cod x reader #dark soap x reader #full credit to ceilidho for Ikea!Soap/Creepy Coworker Soap #mature themes #john soap mactavish x reader #noncon contact #non-consensual touching #TW #cuffsdrabbles #gift for ceilidho #creepy behaviour #TW near panic attack #18+

[ghouljams]

Speakinggggg about the nun: say she slips up and kisses soap, does he has a meltdown because he thinks he’s responsible for corrupting a woman of the cloth? Or is super devious about it even before he knows she’s not a real sister

I'm telling you right now, Soap has a corruption kink here. He is devious about it, he doesn't know she's a fake nun but he also doesn't really care lol this got long, as Soap and his nun always get:

In order to keep up appearances you and your roommates help out at the church sometimes. It’s not too bad, the reverend is nice. Besides that they’re one of your customers so you don’t feel too pious helping them. Really does wonders for your nerves being in a house of God and feeling like you might burst into flames at any second. It would suck to die in your full nun kit, it’d be a horrible ghost outfit. 

Soap has never been one for religion, seems like a crock of shit to be beholden to some man in the sky. What’s God ever done for him? If there was a God he knows a couple people that should’ve been struck down long ago and were currently living very well. This was where Goose said you’d be though, so he was stomaching the church grounds.

“Soap?” One of your sisters catches him, fuck what is her name? “What are you doing here?” Steamin’ hell is it that obvious he isn’t a church man?

“Lookin’ to confess some things, don’t suppose you can help?” He flashes her a smile, watching her lips draw in a thin line.

"We… don't really do that, but you can talk to Moon, she's good at keeping secrets." She says, going back to what she’d been doing.

“And where might she be?”

Johnny finds you doing inventory in the church’s pantry, neatly cataloguing canned goods and recent donations. You hardly look up from your clipboard when he enters, figuring it’s one of your roommates. You turn to ask what they need just as his hand fixes itself to the shelf behind you.

“Johnny? What’re you doing here?” You blink up at him, he seems to be thinking something through. You raise a brow while you wait for his brain to kick into gear.

“I’ve come to confess,” He says finally. You smile, trying not to laugh.

“And they sent you to me,” You shake your head at his short nod, “Alright let’s hear it. Tell me your sins so you may be absolved.” You mean it as a joke, but he steps closer and the air changes. Something small and shivery in the back of your mind takes in how big, and warm, and close he is, how dangerous it is to be in close quarters with this man in particular.

"Forgive me sister for I have sinned," he says, voice low and seductive as he boxes you in, "I've been having impure thoughts." Your eyes dart to his jeans, you snap them back to his face as quick as you can.

"That's… fine, I'm- well I mean not fine in like a catholic sense," you press closer against the shelf as he leans more heavily on his arm, "Are you catholic Johnny?"

"Not even a speck," he says, tipping his head to the side, you mirror the motion swayed by the way his eyes land on your lips.

"That's your first sin I think."

"Won't be my last."

“You’re- this is-” Your brain throws up half cooked protests against having him this close. He hums, waiting for you to say something with a smile.

“Hail Marys,” He says, voice so thick and low that you have to press your legs together under your skirt, “you’re supposed to give me a number.”

“I’m-” Your eyes dart past him to the door.

“You, hen,” His fingers touch your jaw, directing your attention back to him, “just you.”

“I am-” You can feel your breathing, the way your chest rises and falls, you wet your lips with your tongue, “-a pious woman.” Are you reminding him or yourself? His smile seems to grow.

“And I’m a devoted man.”

“To the devil maybe,” Your voice whispers, letting him tip your head back, his lips ghosting over yours.

“Maybe.” He tells you, and kisses you before you can respond.

You’ve been kissed before, you’re not a real nun after all, but not like this. Not this slow and exploratory drag of his lips against yours that makes your eyes flutter closed. Indulgent, your brain purrs, he’s indulging in you in a way only a sinner can. With all the haste of molasses as his nose nudges against yours, coaxes you to open for him as his tongue swipes against your palette. He groans and your stomach drops hot in your core. You drop your clipboard in favor of pressing your hands against his firm stomach, fingers shivering against the hard muscle. Impure thoughts indeed. He pulls back and you blink your eyes open to see him smiling down at you. His thumb swiping at the wetness on your lower lip.

“Isn’t that pretty,” He tells you, you swallow, “Thank you, Hen.”

He leaves you almost as quickly as he found you, and you are absolutely fucked. Bad, very, very, bad for business.

#let's do some kink tags first I think #corruption kink #religion kink #incorrect confessional etiquette #I'm not catholic which is great because Soap and his nun aren't either #we're all flying blind #using a stand in nickname for the nun so lemme know what y'all think #cowboy!Soap #menace of a man he is really just doing the damn thing #soap modern warfare #johnny soap mactavish #soap mctavish #cod x reader #soap x reader #soap x you #john soap mactavish #johnny mactavish

[imreadydollparts]

A bit of a ramble.

I was asked if I had a pony salon wish list by a repeat customer that was interested in replenishing my supplies a bit.

I do, but it's not exactly what you might expect because part of how I can keep my salon fees so very low is that most of those supplies are paid for by my S.O. as we can grab them at the store during our regular grocery run.

But it got me thinking: Would people be interested in knowing what I use a lot of?

I've shuffled the wish lists around a bit to make them more sharable (because they were a mess), and will talk a little bit about what I use and how.

(I know punctuation and capitalization in a bullet list doesn't go like this. I don't care.)

bubble wrap is used to protect ponies in shipping

40Vol is 12% hydrogen peroxide cream, which is what I use to "retrobright" yellowed vinyl in the SunBox and it will sometimes remove stains - I don't use this up very quickly, surprisingly

I will use any dish soap, but that's the one I'm using right now because I had bought it to wash dishes but the whole family doesn't like the scent so I took it down to the salon to use up. I'll get something else when this runs out, which won't be for some time

Garnier Fructis Sleek & Shine conditioner isn't really great for repeated application to people-hair because it does build up over time, but it's excellent for a single application on synthetics. Well conditioned hair flat irons better than dry hair (and feels nicer, too).

I absolutely burn through melamine sponges. They're excellent at removing grime from vinyl that doesn't come off with a gentle hand-washing or toothbrush scrubbing. Anything acetone can take off, a melamine sponge can, just slower. Melamine sponges are micro-abraisives and will take the shine off of things.

larger envelopes for larger numbers of ponies sold on eBay

smaller envelopes. I prefer these envelopes to boxes because it keeps the shipping weight down, and ponies do just fine wrapped in paper, then bubble wrap, then in an envelope. For larger orders I reuse boxes from other things.

packing tape doesn't need much explanation. I tape boxes shut with it.

I wrap every pony in packing paper both to help keep their hair in place during shipping and to keep them from touching each other in the case that one has that particular yellow hair that likes to stain when it gets hot, or has colorant leeching that I don't want to transfer from one pony to another

cellophane tape is used to close the paper towel strips that I use to set their hair

Paper towels are cut into strips to use as hair setting strips, used to clean up areas that I don't want the mess getting onto my work cloths (I do mean cloths, not clothes) nor in my washing machine like rusty oxy clean goop, rusty tail washer chunks, or bits of hair that were combed out. I also use paper towels to strain the cleanser bath when I'm doing deflockings. I prefer to put all those little bits of plastic filament in the trash rather than down the drain. I'd like to get some full-size paper towels for straining flocking fluids because the perforated line is a weak point that sometimes breaks but it seems they're all half-size, now. Coffee filters are too slow and get gunked up too fast by the debris and glue residue from deflocking.

acetone is used to remove factory paint, or you know how sometimes paint from something else sticks to a pony, and smooth out rough areas

L.A.'s Totally Awesome concentrate has many uses in my salon. I use it to remove Mattel head glue, deflock ponies, and remove nail polish from areas where acetone would remove factory paint

This is is the things I wouldn't mind getting for the salon.

You may or may not know that the salon is currently mostly in the basement bathroom. Don't worry, no one uses that bathroom, so there are no potty particles flying around.

Towels are just for laying out on the wire shelves where I dry ponies, or laying on the floor when I need more room to dry ponies. I often do a hundred or so ponies all at once and need a lot of space to work.

There is no counter space in there at all, and it's honestly very difficult to work in there. As such, I've been looking at adjustable work benches because I have to accommodate the toilet and shower if I want to put in some work surface. It's a whole thing.

UVC light is the kind of UV light that kills off bacteria and fungus. Right now I have UVA lights in my SunBox for "retrobrighting" and wouldn't mind adding a little UVC lamp in there, just to help with cleanliness and probably also would help with smells.

The sink in there is teeny tiny and very difficult to work in, so an extension for the faucet would be really handy. I'd rather replace the whole sink, to be honest, but that's not in the cards at the moment.

A thermal printer would be really handy and let me no longer be reliant on the inkjet printer for which the ink cartridges are being discontinued, soon, and will become difficult to get a hold of. I honestly don't know if THAT one will work with my computer (I don't think my computer has Bluetooth), it's just a placeholder, really.

Obviously this isn't EVERYTHING that I use in the salon. I have an ozone generator for bad smells, paint and paint brushes, combs, brushes, flat irons, crimpers, curling irons, straws to curl hair, pipe cleaners, a massive stash of doll hair........

There's quite a lot going on down there, really.

(Since I'm putting wish lists anyway, here's the art supplies list: https://www.amazon.com/hz/wishlist/ls/264SH6D7R373P?ref_=wl_share )

[dark-is-d3ad]

OK, I'm moving soon, and I'm currently sitting in the middle of my ravaged flat surrounded by boxes, jars, and all sorts of things you never know you even had before it's time to go pack them up.

So here's a bunch of soapghost headcanons about moving in together.

• They end up helping each other to pack things. The flat they chose is a two-bed in Epping, really close to the forest. Easy to get to when they come back for a break, technically still in London, but in a quieter area on the outskirts of the city. Ghost checked for a multitude of things, including ways to get in and to retreat, hidden cameras, and he's making a custom surveillance system for it. You can never be too safe, right?

• The second bedroom is going to become Johnny's art studio. Ghost has dibs on the living room, he's got a huge TV and a PS5. And his humongous bookshelf will also go in there. They plan it out perfectly, so that they can spend time together, but also can have their alone time without bothering each other.

• Ghost refuses help at first, but then Johny just shows up with his portable speaker, and hangs out with him. It's a little distracting, and he has way too many books, they run out of boxes. Ghost never tells him, but he's grateful, it was getting overwhelming.

• Ghost's place looks neat, if not a little barren, his things are all sorted to perfection. He's got a collection of shotguns, too. And a huge table, perfect size to work on them comfortably. Cleaning and servicing guns never fails to calm him down. His favourite is an older one, a Benelli M2. It's in pristine condition albeit a little worn, its barrel needs to be changed because it can only last through so much shots, but Ghost kinda wants to keep it as it is, even though it's not practical. He's sentimental about it. They spend a lot of time packing them all up carefully.

• Johny actually asks him to come over, because his adhd gets unmanageable when he goes through all his things, and it's easier if a very specific person makes him stay on track, otherwise he'd be still stuck there reading his diaries and going through his pile of sketchbooks, and oh, the drawing supplies, he has the urge to use that beautiful box of designer gouache his sister gifted to him literally right now because he forgot about it, and now it's so tempting. Ghost thinks of it as of a mission, so he comes up with a strategy and keeps it tactical. And he makes Soap take breaks every once in a while.

• Soap's stuff doesn't fit into the van. Even with the furniture dismantled and packed, he's got so much things, a lot of them art supplies, a huge easel, half-finished paintings, canvases he forgot about or he hadn't had time to come back to. And his bed is freaking huge. They finally cram it in, but it's a really tight squeeze. Comparing to this, Ghost's was half-empty. Thank god their new place is on the bigger side.

• Ghost gets distracted, too, when they pack the paintings. He's not an artsy kinda guy, yet they are so good, he's entranced. It's Johnny's turn to make him focus. Soap doesn't think much of his art, and Ghost makes a mental note to compliment it more often. He really wants to see more. Hell, he'd even pose, if Soap ever asks for it. He won't tell him though.

• There's a "do not touch" black sketchbook with a little white scull drawn on the cover, and Soap flushes deep red and packs it away in record times. Ghost is intrigued beyond measure. He has assumptions of what's in there, and he sneakily checks it out when Soap goes to pack his clothes. It's full of sketches of him. Soap actually took his time to study him, he thinks, even the tattoos are all looking exactly right. The ones from the shower make him wonder if Soap actually memorised him that well or he got some sneaky reference pics (how did he manage that, the bastard). It's got notes, too. It takes an effort not to read them, but Ghost feels like he already intruded a bit too much, so he puts the sketchbook back where it was. Just in time, because Soap pops out with an absolutely ridiculous coat in his hands, and goes "hey, look what I used to wear when I was 18!"

• Ghost has a freaking lot of random jars. They're all empty. When asked about it, he confesses that he wanted to make jam, his grandfather used to make a lot of it every summer. It's one of the good memories he has, and there's not so many of them. He tried to make it once, but failed, and had to throw away the whole batch. They keep each and every one, although it seems stupid.

• Johnny's art stuff is a whole lot. He's got tree branches and clay, and a fucking mannequin (it scares Ghost every time he walks in Soap's living room, because his side vision registers it as a person, and he can't get over it). The mannequin has a crooked smiley face drawn on it with a sharpie. There's sheets of metal, fabric, a lot of acrylic, and a ton of instruments. He was trying to get into modern sculpture, Soap says, it didn't really work out. Needs more 3d thinking. Ghosts proposes to try again after they move. He's good at fixing stuff, and he's really good at guerilla warfare, they'll find a way to make even the weirdest thing Soap comes up with hold together.

• Soap's got little led garlands wrapped on every vertical thing at his place. At first Ghost thinks it's stupid, but when the night comes, and Soap lights all of them up, it actually feels almost magical. They sit on the floor with mugs of tea and coffee, and, although it's messy and everything is moved out of place, it's still beatiful, and it feels so safe. Ghost finds himself feeling more like a 5 y o than he probably ever did, sitting there just watching lights slowly light up and fade. He's never been good at making his places cozy. He'll ask Soap to work on their new flat to make it more like that. He really wants the lights there, too.

• Johnny's mugs are all different. He's got the "guns and coffee" with a redrawn Starbucks logo, the mermaid holds two pistols. Ghost gets the "under all your tattoos you're still a mainstream cunt" one when it's Johnny's turn to make tea. He pretends to be offended. There is a pink one with "unt" on it. It makes sense when Soap turns it, and the handle finishes the word. There's one with lots of bees, and it reads "bear daddy". Ghost makes the stupidest jokes about it.

• Ghost hasn't got a lot of kitchenware, and all his plates and mugs are white, the cheapest ones from IKEA. And he's only got one chair. No guests - no need. Johnny finds it a little depressing, but says nothing.

• Johnny's spicerack is probably the second biggest collection he has after his art stuff. He likes cooking, and he likes trying new recipes. His favourite go-tos sit separately on the kitchen counter. Ghost has to admit that he's really good. Ghost's spices are just salt and pepper, which gets him "and you live like that? Lt!" from Soap.

• When they finally move their stuff in, a call from Price comes. There's things to do like right now, get ready in 5, be at base in an hour and a half. Ghost likes his work, yet he can't help but get a little grumpy. He really wanted to get it over with. And to see what comes out of it with all things in place. And to have a chill evening with Johnny, watching these little lights again with some quiet ambient playing on the background. "It's OK," Soap says, "we'll get it sorted when we come back."

OK, that's gonna be it for now, I have a sad option and a silly option to go for, but I'd rather make a part two and separate them.

#ghostsoap #soapghost #headcanon #moving

[stabbyfoxandrew]

mafia au pretty please

WIP Wednesday (5/22)| Mafia Front Restaurant AU (Part 162)

Neil laughs at that image and starts gathering the cards from where they’d left them scattered across half the table. He crams them back into the nearly disintegrated box and leans back against the seat, his head craned back to look at the light fixtures. Someone should dust those things, he thinks. Why, though? It’s not like it’s a real restaurant.

Their one and only 'regular' customer will be on a plane to Denver in a couple hours and he likely won’t be coming back. Neil sighs at the thought. He’s never had such an easy time talking to a stranger before. In fact, with most people he’d rather just shoot them than try to make small talk. But Andrew was… something else.

Kevin appears from the kitchen and comes to sit in Andrew’s spot, propping his head on a hand in almost the same way Andrew had. “God, this booth is so comfortable.”

“Are you high? It’s hard as a rock.” Neil says, knocking his knuckles against the barely-padded seat and letting the thunk-thunk be his evidence.

“Compared to that stool in there,” Kevin points chin towards the kitchen, “this is a luxurious piece of furniture. But today was sort of fun. You know… Before this whole Andrew-thing, I didn’t know Jean enjoyed cooking so much.”

“Oh. I mean, he usually just makes simple shit at home. I don’t cook unless I’m starving,” Neil says. “Even then, it’s ramen or like… tuna salad or something.”

Kevin winces. “You’re not on the run anymore and you’re not a poor college student. Those are the only people who eat that quick ramen.”

“Mm, I dunno I like it,” Neil says. His favorite is the orange pack, but he’s not sure what flavor it’s supposed to be… He gives Kevin a look. “What would you know about being a poor college student?”

“I lived with three of them for a year.” Kevin sighs.

“Oh. Right.” Neil sighs too. Then the restroom door opens. Jean comes out looking annoyed, which is a default of his.

“There’s no soap in there. Why isn’t there soap?” He mutters, crossing the floor presumably to wash his hands in the kitchen.

#aftg #andreil #kevjean #Mafia Restaurant AU #WIP Wednesday #🕊️ #answered #anon

[ahordeofwasps]

Find the Word Tag

I've been tagged by the awesome @deanwax! Thanks for the tag! My words are dress, red, book, even, and odd. I'll be sharing excerpts from To Not Falling Off Cliffs!

But first, the no pressure tags! I'll be tagging @sarandipitywrites, @winterandwords, @mary-is-writing, @emelkae, and open tag! Your words are fire, flail, free, and follow!

Now, onto To Not Falling Off Cliffs!

Dress & Odd

On the other side there were two humanoids. One was a woman, and the other was a man. They had clean flawless skin. Their hair was neatly combed without a single strand out of place. The woman wore a white dress while the man wore a black turtleneck and black slacks. They both smiled as they each held a small stack of pamphlets. They both looked almost human. Almost. Their teeth, although perfectly white and straight, looked a little too sharp. Their eyes weren’t vacant, but there was an emptiness behind their stares, the kind that demanded to be filled. They were [unintelligible]. [unintelligible] usually didn’t go door to door. [unintelligible] usually found their prey in crowds, in those that walked a little too slowly as if they were lost. Some [unintelligible] hunted on the internet, using social media to find those set adrift in their life, looking for someone or something to grab a hold of. [unintelligible] were impersonal, though they did strive to make their prey feel special. [unintelligible] preferred odds set in their favour, usually working one to one only when their hooks were in their prey.

Red & Even

There were small occasions where Erika lingered truthfully, however. She stopped in the aisle with the shampoo, taking the time she normally spent pretending to read the ingredients in each bottle. Recently, Erika had noticed that her hair was turning red and was starting to become dry and chitinous. Although she liked the unexpected colour change, she disliked how she looked with a head full of chitin instead of hair. When Erika had examined her shampoo and conditioner, she discovered her shampoo was enchanted to give her the “dazzling hair of the future.” Erika did not want the hair of the future. She wanted the hair of the present. Obtaining the hair of the present proved to be difficult. Half the shampoo brands had the “hair of the future” enchantment, making Erika wonder why she hadn’t seen anyone else with chitinous hair. Of those without the enchantment, one brand had caused the death of one of Steve’s clients, two brands were currently in the midst of lawsuits due to giving their customers alchemical burns, one shampoo’s only ingredient was one whole coconut, and the rest weren’t sulphate free. Erika sighed, rubbing her temples, feeling her headache returning. What should have been simple hygiene was quickly turning into a losing battle. Erika could at least choose how badly she lost that battle. She picked up one of the shampoos with sulphates; it would make her already dry hair even drier, but at least she would be free of the chitin.

Book

At first glance, the apartment looked the same as it was when Erika last visited. There was still a bucket of crystals on the end table next to a stack of unopened cardboard boxes with facial cleansers targeted towards teens. The blue macrofibre dusting cloth was still left forgotten on the bookshelf next to a series of volumes on pigeon breeding. Beer cozies with various energy drink logos printed on them nestled mason jars filled with origami flowers were scattered about every available flat surface. Next to where Erika sat was a potted plant sitting on a cardboard box that once contained meal replacement shakes. But, as Erika examined the room further, she spotted new items among the clutter. A small box of make-up was in the bucket of crystals. A bar of soap that looked like a cupcake sat on the bookshelf, still in its original packaging. The paper petals of the origami flowers look like they were wet, and the room reeked of peppermint, with the stench being strongest next to the origami flowers. There was a plastic depiction of a zombified cat having a tea party with a ceramic frog in the soil of the potted plant.

#writing #writeblr #urban fantasy #fantasy #tag game #find the word #To Not Falling Off Cliffs #TNFOC

[ratsoh-writes]

Merry Christmas/gyftmas!

(I got covid and lost my sense of smell and taste which is honestly the worst for me I'd rather have a fever/chills and cough 😭)

I hope your day is going well!

In addition to soap molds and some other hobby items, Pop gets converse shoes that are decorated like burgers. There's another box filled with tiny shoes that also look like burgers. "They're sliders." E thinks this is the funniest joke and barely stops laughing

Nooooooo not Christmas Covid 😭😭😭

Pop also dies with you (of laughter)

Pop had gotten E a huge sampler of exotic ebott foods, and the goofiest pen that has a taxidermied mouse on it. ….. E isn’t sure why that made pop think of her. She also got a foot massager and a heat pack for when the baby makes her back sore which was thoughtful

Rhythm got E some shoes as well. Cute work ones with embroidery on them. And a real nice winter coat

Salsa got E and pop a custom scrapbook for when they have the baby, and it already has a few family pictures in there. He got some pictures from her parents too which was nice

Pluto also gave the couple a gift a few days before. He designed and made a super cool baby monitor that doubled as a very long distance walkie talkie. It has enough range that E could talk to pop from the temmie factory while he’s at home, they can send written messages, and it’s got half a dozen safeguards against being hacked. And it’s shaped like pears.

[bethanysnow]

Crying on prom night. prt 1.

(this happens the year before S4)

Eddie Munson wasn’t what you would call a ‘participant’ in social norms. Stood on his soap box many times about how everything is there to kill creativity and freedom and individual expression. This was his year after all! And he was going to make a point and not go to Prom.

Thinking this of course staring at the poster for ‘Under the stars Prom night’. He scoffed. Such a fucking dumb theme. Should be like....vampires or something. Eddie walked to the spot behind the bleachers and lit a cigarette before class where he normally met with Y/n. The girl of his dreams- just she didn’t know that. She didn’t need to. He didn’t want her to know! Stop asking!

....

anyway-

She was just his friend. Originally assigned to help tutor him with English they became inseparable. With Hellfire club when he adopted all the lost sheep it became a thing half jokingly of he was Dad and she was Mom. Y/n drove a pinto that fit about most everyone in Hellfire with space for snacks. Eddie could tell she had arrived as Elton John or Abba or some pop trash was coming up from the side parking lot. Turning his head to see the girl get out of her car and walk to where she knew he would be. God she was beautiful.

Y/n wasn’t what you’d call conventional. Conventionally attractive, conventionally intelligent, she was a great student just had horrible grades. She didn’t subscribe to the diet culture or the idea’s on the radio or magazines that thinness was the goal to be worthy of shit. It was fucking bullshit and they both knew it. The popular kids though never got that, making it their mission to ruin peoples day. Eddie knew he was in love with her when she stood up to Jason and his goons.

~~

“What are you gonna do about it you fat fuck?” Jason yelled in her face.

     “What am I going to do about what? Jason- sweetheart you are a couple years away from loosing your hair and missing the glory days so I’d suggest you shut up and leave me alone-” Y/n stated, so calm but stern as all the eyes in the cafeteria turned to look.

“And what if I don't? You gonna cry about it? Run off to that freak boyfriend of yours? Make freak babies in that van? Hahaha- I just wanna know what you see in him? Then I’ll get out of your way-” Shrugging and making a grand motion like a actor on stage.

     “Me? Well 1. Eddie isn’t my boyfriend and 2. I bet hes got a bigger dick than you and that's why your obsessed- hmm that’s it isn’t it? You can’t stand that people outside of the culture here are living happy lives. Because you are gonna be fucking wasting air and die of a heart attack by your mid 50′s and daddy’s money won’t last that long now will it?” She cooed at the man standing above her. “Ahh tough luck-”

The rest of the basketball team started to arrive behind him crowding her vision. Jason rolls back spitting on her face. She simply wipes it off, setting down her lunch bag on a nearby table. Staring into the boys eyes. As he stares back waiting for a response- pain....all he feels is pain...in his dick. Wincing he clutches his crotch and falls to the ground on his knees as the wind is knocked out of him. She leans down real close to his face.

   “Get in my way again I will cut your bits off and throw them in the locker room so everyone can see just how small you are....k?” Returning to that once customer service smile she grabs her lunch and walks to the hellfire table. Eddie having watched this entire interaction has now a raging boner and his heart beating outside his chest.

Fuck!

~~

“Hey honey!” Y/n smiled as she greeted the guitarist. He was always honey, hon, honey-bun, some form of that. He asked why once, but never got a reply from her straight out.

  “Mornin birdy- want one?” Offering her a smoke. She shook her head no motioning to her outfit. She was always birdy, or song bird, blue bird, anything that sang. Because while Eddie could kind of hold a tune Y/n sang. Now admittedly it wasn’t like the folks on the radio, but it made her smile and that’s all Eddie needed.

“Mom’s got family pictures at the mall after school and if she smells I’ve been smoking she’ll have my head. Not exactly how I want to spend an evening. But- you know-” Eddie looked down her body and he couldn’t help but laugh, A white and yellow striped dress with brown penny loafers? Nothing like what he knew his girl liked. “Yea yea I know- It’s awful! I look like im in the sears catalog!” Rolling her eyes “She wouldn’t even let me use black eyeliner!” Putting a hand on her hip and pinching her nose “Y/n I raised you better than that- I didn’t say anything when you started hanging out with those...hooligans but this is for family photos and you need to look nice” Mimicking her mothers voice.

Eddie was bent over laughing trying to not fall over. Standing up he clasped his hands behind his back and pretended to push up imaginary glasses “Yes Y/n that Munson boy is a bad influence-” mocking her father. Both of them were in a fit of giggles till they were interrupted by the bell. Stomping out the smoke they went inside.

Walking down the hallway the prom committee were busy vandalizing the hallways with silver stars and navy blue construction paper. Eddie rolled his eyes and Y/n noticed.

“What? you not going to prom?” She asked.

     “Why should I? Its a gathering of the student body in effort to recreate a coming of age ritual- its stupid. I am a man because I say so! Also- its tacky”

“Says the guy who thought zebra striped pants was a good look for the summer. But I thought-”

     “-NO! it totally was! You just didn’t see my vision!” Slapping a hand on her shoulder as he stopped in front of Mrs. Price’s science class. “I will see you at lunch yes?” She nodded and he grabbed her hand and kissed her knuckles “Till then my lady~” grinning as he walked in the door.

Y/n sighed as she took out two slips of paper from her bag. Yea- maybe at lunch she could ask him.

Admin 2. Hawkins high school

 Prom: ‘Under the stars’

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x plus size reader

[everybodyisabookofblood]

Get His Attention

Pairing: Eddie x Reader

Summary: You really want to leave the party you’re at and try to think up a way to tell your boyfriend Eddie. (Loosely inspired by the Tik Tok challenge of texting your significant other something dirty in a room full of people - twisted to be appropriate for the 80s)

Word Count: 1,541

Warnings: Female reader (no description other than gender), slight Wham! slander (sorry), underage drinking/drug use mentioned, sexual situations implied but not described (use your imagination), no use of Y/N

--oo--

God, this night sucks.

You weren’t one for high school parties – even ones thrown by your friend Steve – on a good day, but this one was made especially brutal by the fact that someone had let Cindy Thomas and her Super Special Party Mixtape (which consisted of a one-hour compilation of the same three songs over and over again) have control over the stereo.

At least she had been smarter this time, waiting until later in the evening when everyone was the right combination of drunk and/or high to be unaware of their surroundings or the fact that Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go was currently playing for the third time.

Unfortunately, you didn’t have the same luxury of blissful ignorance. Thanks to your embarrassing tendency to be a weepy drunk when you overindulged, you had been nursing the same cup of jungle juice for the last hour. Eddie still teased you about the time he found you in the kitchen of the last party you got drunk at, embracing a box of half-empty Trix and wailing, “Silly rabbits deserve Trix too!” when he asked if you were okay.  

The memory of your confused but concerned boyfriend attempting to comfort you brought a reluctant smile to your face, reminding you why you came to these things in the first place. For the most part, Eddie was just as much a homebody as you were, happy to spend his nights with you or hanging out with a couple of close friends. But when his funds were low, the quickest way for him to replenish them was to show up at these parties with his trusty lunchbox in tow, making as much in one night as he usually would in a week.

Supportive girlfriend for the win, you thought, grimacing as you took a sip of the lukewarm and overly sweet liquid in your cup.

You had lost sight of Eddie almost 30 minutes ago when a nervous teen buying for the first time had approached him while you were in the middle of a conversation with Robin. Eddie flashed you a grin, sneaking a quick kiss before directing the potential customer to “Step into my office,” as he guided him out the screen door that led into Steve’s backyard. Moments after that, Robin pulled you along to talk to a band friend of hers, and when the conversation had turned to some complicated piece they were practicing, you had excused yourself to use the bathroom.

It took you a frustratingly longer time than expected to navigate through the clusters of people from one end of the house to the other where the downstairs bathroom was located. When you finally got there, you were met with the sight of a drunk guy leaning against the bathroom door and trying to coax what you assumed was his crying girlfriend out. Frustrated but not willing to brave the crowds again for the additional bathrooms you knew were upstairs, you decided to hunker down and wait for the whole soap opera to play out.

When you made your way back to where you originally were, a whopping 20 minutes later, Robin was gone, Eddie was no longer in the backyard, and you were ready to go the hell home.

Just gotta find my wayward boyfriend.

Pushing through a group of girls that were crowded around the entryway to the living room (meeting the stink eye look they shot you with one of your own), you were relieved when you saw a familiar figure sprawled out on the sofa at the center of the room, a beer in his hand and a broad smile on his face as he gestured wildly. Steve sat beside him and Robin on the chair across from them, both with a glassy sheen to their eyes and enthralled with whatever Eddie was saying. You found yourself pausing, a huffed laugh escaping your lips at the sight. You knew your boyfriend loved these moments when Steve and Robin were so blitzed that suddenly everything Eddie said was the most genius thing ever. Granted, they never really remembered it when they sobered up the next day, but Eddie felt like a god preaching his gospel and those two his loyal disciples for those few moments.

Suddenly conflicted, you moved to the side to lean against the solid oak table against the wall as your desire to leave battled with your desire to keep that look on Eddie’s face. You loved when he got enthusiastic about the things he liked and took every opportunity you could to encourage it.

Would it be that bad to hang around for another half-hour? You wondered as you nibbled on your bottom lip.

Almost in answer, you heard the tale end of Girls Just Wanna Have Fun before being replaced with the dreaded repetition of “Jitterbug,” indicating that Wham! was about to get its fourth go of the night.

Yes. Yes, it would.

Now that that was decided, you had to determine the best way to extract Eddie and encourage him to leave. The last time you attempted to interrupt a conversation and tell him you wanted to go home, he’d pulled you onto his lap and continued to talk for 45 more minutes. No, the goal would be to make him want to leave.

But how? you wondered.

You rolled a few ideas around your head about what could get his attention without approaching him and be enough for him to want to leave. I could always flash him. You snorted at the thought. While there were fewer people in this room than in the rest of the house, you wouldn’t be able to do it discreetly.

You casually scanned your surroundings. Your eyes fall on the phone beside you, and next to that, a notepad and pen for what you assumed were for writing down messages. A wicked grin stretched your lips as another idea suddenly came to mind. Maybe you couldn’t show it, but you could write it.

You looked up again, judging the distance. The two of you were separated by roughly 15 feet, with a small group of 4 people standing between you and him. The group was slightly spread out and constantly shifting, so all it would take would be waiting for precisely the right moment.

Definitely possible. You nodded, your mind made up as you snatched up the pen and bent over the notepad. Let’s really get his attention.

You felt your cheeks flush as you scribble out your raunchy note before signing Eddie’s nickname for you with a flourish. Bringing the message to your lips, you kissed over the signature, allowing your slightly faded lipstick to leave an imprint.

You carefully folded the note, trying to emulate how you’ve seen Eddie do it in class when he’s being a menace and shooting paper bullets at the jocks in the front rows when the teacher's backs are turned. You write Eddie’s name down one side when you’re finished and slip off one of the elastic hair bands you keep around your left wrist.

Folding the note around the elastic, you pull it back, aiming it in Eddie’s direction as you eye the group in front of you. A few seconds later, an opportunity presents itself as two group members leave, and suddenly it’s a clear shot between you and the sofa. You send the note flying, squealing in victory when it bounces off his temple and falls into his messy hair by his ear.

You slap a hand over your mouth, muffling your laugh when you hear him yelp, “What the hell!?” and run a hand over his hair. His fingers come back, pinching the small note between them as he raises his head to scan the room. Confused brown eyes connect with yours as he raises his eyebrows in question and gestures toward you with the note.

“Read it,” you mouth, as you lean back and cross your arms.

You watch as a bemused smile twists his lips as he places his beer between his legs and begins to unfold the note. Your nerves spike when Steve leans towards him and says something too low for you to hear over the music. They ease when Eddie laughs in response and shoves lightly at his nosy friend’s forehead as he finishes unfolding the note.

The note itself is short – just two lines in total – but Eddie stares at it, not reacting for a solid 30 seconds before a flush begins spreading from his cheeks and down his neck. His eyes immediately dart up to yours, his gaze as red-hot as his cheeks, and you smirk in challenge.

He leaps to his feet, sending the beer he’d forgotten was still between his legs to the floor with a dull thunk, spilling its contents over the shag carpet. Steve yelps in protest, but Eddie ignores him as he quickly eats up the distance between you and him, shoving the note into his back pocket.

“We’re leaving. Now!” Eddie grits out, grabbing your hand and shouldering his way through people as he makes his way toward the front door.

You allow yourself to be pulled along with a giddy smile.

Guess I got his attention.

#eddie munson #eddie x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie x female reader #eddie munson x you

[lazyghostcoffee]

Magical: A slice of life, My Oc

I wanna make this very clear that I’m going to post a bit slowly as I can be very inconsistent when it comes to posting.

Dream

Age: 19

Gender: Female

Nationality: Mexican-american

Magic: Water and Dark Magic

Height: 5,9ft

Sexuality: Asexual

Personality: quiet, very smart, semi-sleepy, always curious

Likes: dry and dark humor, reading, sleeping, modifying weapons, milkshake and practicing with magic

Dislike: missing mechanical parts, fancy dresses, early morning, loud music and using magic used discretely.

Small facts: nothing more than a government experiment she was sent off to the first dimension that being earth to have a normal life even though when she got older, she was aware of what she was she doesn’t really seem to care about it.

Snowy

Age: 26

Gender: Female

Nationality: French and Mexican

Magic: Sown

Height: 4,11ft

Sexuality: Bisexual

Personality: clever and witty, dramatic, headstrong, sassy, yet open-minded

Likes: sewing, listening to music, making fashionable clothes, her business, and romantic novels

Dislike: horror movies, rude customers, horrific fabric, pranks

Small facts: she runs a fashion website and store for her clothing. She is well-known both on earth and on the federation she loves making clothes so much that she often makes clothes for her friends and she hates seeing them shop and other clothing brands.

Sam

Age: 26

Gender: Female

Nationality: Black, Half-French and Russian

Magic: Fire

Height: 5,8ft

Sexuality: Lesbian and she's married to Ellie

Personality: outgoing, loud, has a good heart but can be aggressive at times.

Likes: Her wife, her little brother (Leo) and her two older brothers, Fighting, her boxing ring, music (surprisingly, she likes jazz and classical music), drinking, and her bar

Dislike: rude customers, fights in her bar, sour foods, cold weather

Small facts: Came from a wealthy background has two older brothers and has a younger brother that she’s currently taken care. She used to went to Juvie six times as a teenager.

Ellie

Age: 27 (though she is deceased)

Gender: female

Nationality: British

Height: 5,6ft

Species: Ghost

Sexuality: Also Lesbian and she's married to Sam

Personality: Perfectionist, but understanding of indifference; stern but loving

Likes: Her wife, Ann-Marie, her diner, reading, soap opera and her friend

Dislike: spicy food, messy rooms, messing up recipes and seeing her wife going into trouble

Small facts: She came from a wealthy background, depending on the person she was blessed or cursed within her bloodline to control the weather with her emotions on a small scale.

Note: Ellie is blessed (or cursed, depending) with the ability to control the weather with her emotions

Inky

Age: 4.5 billion years old (35)

Gender: Female

Nationality: None

Species: Ink-hearts

Height: 5,9ft

Sexuality: Straight

Personality: patient, quiet, lovely, smart, semi-tired and perfectionist, a bit flirty

Likes: Old Hollywood, film, and singing, reading, baking, five year red wine white roses, acting

Dislike: tight clothing, sleazy agents, bad romance movies, and cheese

Small facts: [Classified]

Isabell

Age: 4.5 billion years old (28)

Gender: Female

Nationality: None

Species: Ink-hearts

Height: 5,6ft

Sexuality: Pansexual

Personality: hyperactive and patient, open-minded and sociopathic

Likes: Her Sister, Scary B Movies, Rainy days, Fight choreography,
Milkshakes, Radio dramas and Romance novels

Dislike: Tomatoes, Plagiarism, Bad craft services and "Apple juice"

Small facts: [Classified]

C.A. Brook

Age: 29

Gender: female

Nationality: Black

Height: 5,4ft

Species: Tanuki and Experiments

Sexuality:???

Personality: “Big sis cool vibe’s”, Optimistic, but is it insane? Caring, but "head empty, no thoughts."

Likes: Weed, nap’s, Horror-B movies and camping

Dislike: Unknown

Small facts: She can transform into anyone she desires. Due to the fact that her species is so rare, she's often on the run from the government. And she is great friends with Sam.

Honey

Age: 48

Gender: female

Nationality: Half-Black and Dutch

Height: 5,3 ft

Species: Slim-honey experiment

Sexuality: Straight

Personality: gives off mother or grandmother vibes could be strict, but it’s very loving, although most of the time she’s tired with everyone’s bullcrap.

Likes: unknown

Dislike: unknown

Small facts: She is the group's grandma. Due to the fact that she would give advice, however, she would probably be more strict and willing to talk to and smack anyone who tried to disrespect her. She came from a wealthy, and more specifically, a military, background. As of now, she currently runs an apartment complex and runs her own store.

Yugiri

Age: 39 (though she is deceased)

Gender: female

Nationality: Half-Chinese and Japanese

Height: 6,5 ft

Species: undead

Sexuality: Straight

Personality: has a motherly personality and is overly protective of her friends, obstinate and confrontational.

Likes: sleeping, poison, medicine, reading and cooking

Dislike: stubborn people, getting into fights and being brought into other people's problems

Small facts: She is an undead; she runs a hospital in the forest and takes refugees into her care. More specifically, for children, she is often the doctor and the therapist within the group, but she does not seem to mind.

Mistress

Age: ???

Gender: female

Nationality: None

Height: depends

Species: Shadow soul

Sexuality: ???

Personality: milfs vibe, flirty and sexy, a big tease

Likes: unknown

Dislike: unknown

Small facts: She is a shadow soul, a purple blob of an unknown soul that has been corrupted; however, mistress does not know anything about her previous life or how she is one of the few that has their own self-awareness. Even though she was considered a big bad, she was mostly corrupted; however, she does not have any prior memory of what she has committed.

. . .And that it. :)

#new start #my ocs art #my chatacters #i’m not dead #oc artwork #art #my artwork

[broken-clover]

(I don't know how to add on to the previous ask srry) A cuddle fic. I like to think that Faust would insist he's not cold while making sure that Slayer is bundled up, and Slayer seriously doubting it as he can clearly see he's lying.

As I often end up saying, thank you very much for your patience! Despite my languid pace, this was legitimately enjoyable to write, these two are so fun together.

-

One of the first actions Slayer had taken once Faust had started staying the night was to order specially-sized blankets. He had plenty of normal ones, of course, and if needed, they could be used many at a time to do a patchwork job. But why would that be needed? That was just silly. There was plenty of money to spare, blankets were hardly a blip compared to some of the other amenities he’d outfitted his villa with.

It wasn’t quite a surprise, but he didn’t bring it up to Faust until after the order had been put in. The topic ended up dropping into the conversation on a whim.

“I’ve always wondered why open-air rooms can feel a touch brisk. But I suppose it doesn’t bother you, does it?”

Slayer immediately reached for the nearest blanket, hanging off the arm of a nearby chair. “Here, no need to stay chilly, take a quilt or two. I’m sorry that you have to use so many, but the new ones should arrive soon.”

“...New ones?”

“Oh, yes. Should only be a week or two. I’m having them made custom, so they’re large enough to cover you properly.”

Of course, he had the bag to hide his face, but Slayer could tell when Faust grew flustered. There was a hint of pink on his neck, and his hands crooked around one another in a particular way.

“Ah, I can assure you that- that wasn’t necessary.”

“Fall is coming soon, it would be good to have a nice blanket around, wouldn’t it?” Slayer replied, nonchalant.

Faust half-muffled a noise of frustration. “I don’t like to waste your money.”

“It’s not a matter of money,” he said, “I simply want you to be comfortable here. What sort of host would I be if I forced you to be uncomfortable?”

There wasn’t exactly an agreement, but the doctor could not come up with a refutation, and the conversation passed quickly after. Slayer hoped he would come around. He genuinely meant it, it felt cruel to have him struggle in the cold with tools not made for him. Potemkin must have had similar issues, Gabriel had mentioned it every so often in the letters they sent one another. The president had actually been the one to help him in this instance, Faust’s blankets were being ordered from the same specialty company in Zepp that manufactured most of Potemkin’s clothes and bedding.

Of course, most of the time, Faust had a far easier time with his things. He didn’t have the same overwhelming strength that could easily break things without massive amounts of caution. Faust tended to travel light, but over time, and with a bit of prodding, Slayer had noticed him with something new. He was fond of the smattering of Faust’s possessions that had found their way into his house. Each was kept dusted and ready to be used if the man needed, but it was undeniable that they clashed with the rest of the castle’s decor. An extra few bag hats, tucked next to obscenely expensive suits. A cluster of fake flowers kept in an antique crystal vase over the fire. A plastic novelty soap dispenser shaped like a bird, perched on the rim of the master bathroom’s black marble sink. Odd as it was, Slayer enjoyed the schism. Faust had such charming tastes.

The order arrived in a large box, carried by a postman in uniform. He was unable, or unwilling, to haul it up the path to the villa, so Slayer came down in person to accept it.

“Aha, so you’ve arrived! Quite wonderful, yes.” He took their clipboard to sign the delivery off, pointedly ignoring the person’s sudden unease at his appearance. “It’s a gift for someone close, you see, so I’ve been eager for your delivery.”

“W-well, I hope it’s- t-that you like it.” The man replied in a rickety little voice. “Goodbye.”

Slayer hauled the box over his shoulder and merrily made his way back up the hill as the deliveryman tore off in the opposite direction.

“Faust!”

A new door appeared in the foyer wall, and from it appeared a bagged head. “Yes?” As soon as he noticed the package in the other man’s arms, he visibly drooped. “Don’t tell me…”

“Your blankets are here!” For emphasis, Slayer dropped the box with a loud thump and tore away the top flaps. Fabric puffed up over the new, ragged edges. “Aha, and with the exact sort of quality I expect from Zepp! Come, come, give them a try!”

Reluctantly, Faust meandered over and bent down to get a better look. “Goodness, this looks as fancy as I had expected.”

“And yet, you don’t look especially happy?”

“I already said, I don’t want you spending such extravagant amounts on me, it’s a waste.” The doctor shook his head. “Why aren’t you more concerned about yourself, shouldn’t you worry about staying warm, as well?”

“Vampires have fewer concerns when it comes to staying warm. But, I suppose, if it would satisfy you…”

Slayer moved to grab a blanket. It came out easily, but with a second tug came more, a third even more, with fold after fold of fabric appearing like a clown’s handkerchief trail. It pooled at Slayer’s feet and still kept coming, and by the end, there was little more than a stubby crest of dark hair poking out of a giant pale cloud.

Seeing someone, especially a man known for his elegance, in a state like this, Faust put a hand to his mouth and tried not to chuckle. “Are you alright in there?”

“Quite- quite excellent, not to worry.” The cloudlike mass rippled with motion. Slayer’s face eventually poked out from the tangle, and Faust had to bite his lip to keep his laughter inside. “Perhaps…I may have underestimated just how large this would be. What sort of tools did they have to keep this restrained while they worked on it, I wonder.”

“Frankly, I’m amazed it even fit in that box.” The doctor looked inside. “And I think there’s still more. It looks perfectly warm, at least. Use it for your own bed, I’m sure you and Sharon could use it more than I could.”

“I bought a set of three, that seemed enough for a single order. Goodness, it may even be too large for my own bed. But please, wouldn’t you at least consider? I only worry for your health…”

“Nobody needs to worry about me, I will be fine. Your concern is appreciated, but everything is fine.”

From the blanket came a defeated sigh. “Alright, alright, if you’re so insistent. Just let me free myself, and I’ll…er…”

Faust cocked his head. “Something wrong?”

“Not wrong, per say, ah…” He fumbled about in the fluff. “Dear, do you think you would be willing to assist me? I believe the pin of my tie has gotten lost somewhere in the fold.”

“Did it snag on a loose stitch somewhere? Let me take a look.” One long arm pulled back a chunk of blanket, but there was far more underneath.

Slayer lifted up another section, tossing it up to move it out of the way. “Try somewhere over here, maybe closer to the ground?”

“Mmm, yes, that’s a good point, I can’t imagine it’s gotten too far.” He knelt down and felt over the lumps piled on the floor. All of them squished under his grip, without anything solid poking through. “It doesn’t seem to be here, maybe it would be easier to lay it flat-”

Before he could try to pull back out, Fault was suddenly struck by a heap of fluffy batting. It wasn’t too heavy, but it was unexpected enough to catch him off-guard and end with him tangled in the entire mess. For what it was worth, it was large enough a blanket to cover him and then some, but that meant he could now not find a way to get back out.

“I’m very sorry, I’ve made some sort of clumsy mistake-” When he looked back up, Slayer was grinning at him. “Ah. I knew you would try something like this.”

“And still you humored me? How touching.” The vampire happily sank into the cozy prison that they now shared, nuzzling up to the other man’s side. “For all your harrumphing, one could almost get the impression that you aren’t as bothered by my antics after all. If you were, I would have assumed you would have stopped coming around ages ago."

Despite his scowl, Faust couldn’t fully muffle another little laugh. “I suppose you have a point.”

#ask #request #writing #guilty gear #faust #slayer #Frog Writes