#and rounded it up a bit more during the sculpting

[buckets-and-trees]

Chosen, Part 1: Arrival

Characters/Pairings: eventual Bucky x curvy Millennial Female!Reader, Natasha x Reader scenes, Natasha x Reader x Steve scenes Word Count: 3.4k Summary: After surviving three rounds of interviews, you have been invited for a full-day to tour and interview at the estate and headquarters that belong to the Winged Heritage Foundation.

SERIES Content Warnings: SOFT!DARK STORY, cult themes, explicit smut, dubious consent and enthusiastic consent, veiled truths, gaslighting

CHAPTER Content Warnings: none

Notes: I started writing this story with the intention for it to be a long one-shot, but after it shot past 18k, I realized I would need to break it up into installments, so ... expect sort of a slow burn for the plot? Installments will be posted on Mondays and Thursdays.

Shout outs to @stargazingfangirl18, @witchywithwhiskey, @biteofcherry, and @vonalyn for helping me get my ideas sorted out for this trip!

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You scroll through the note in your phone with questions to ask during a final interview as the car pulls off the interstate and starts down a country highway lined with trees.

At least you hope this is the final interview.

You had applied for a basic administrative assistant position with the Winged Heritage Foundation, but after your first interview you had been called by a recruitment officer and asked if you would consider a different position with the organization, one that hadn’t been posted publicly.

You still don’t know what the position is you’re being considered for, but after two more interviews, you had been notified that you were a finalist and invited to a full-day interview and tour of the Foundation’s headquarters – an estate outside of the city. They had even arranged for a professional car service to pick you up and take you there. The offices in the city, where your previous three interviews had taken place, evidently handles most of the business operations for the Foundation, and the estate is where the more focused work takes place.

You are naturally a bit nervous for a fourth - and full day - interview, but you feel you like your nerves are at a healthy level - present but not paralyzing, a small buzz that will keep you focused.

The car slows as it approaches a break in the trees, and your driver signals to turn. As you round the corner, your breath catches in your throat. A wrought-iron gate stretches across a wide driveway, its intricate scrollwork spelling out "Winged Heritage" in elegant script. The gate swings open silently as your car approaches, as if by magic.

The driveway stretches before you, a winding ribbon of pale gravel cutting through a verdant landscape that takes your breath away. Ancient oaks and maples line the drive, their branches reaching across to form a dappled canopy overhead. Bright morning sunlight filters through the leaves, casting dancing shadows on the ground.

As you travel deeper into the estate, meticulously manicured gardens unfold on either side. Vibrant flower beds burst with color - deep purple irises, sunny yellow daffodils, and blood-red roses. The gardens give way to rolling lawns of emerald green, dotted with sculpted topiaries in fantastical shapes.

As the car rounds another bend, a shimmering pond comes into view. Its surface is like polished glass, reflecting the azure sky and fluffy white clouds above. A family of swans glide gracefully across the water, their long necks arched in elegant curves. At the far end of the pond, a delicate bridge of white marble spans the narrowest point, its railings gilded with gold.

The driveway begins to climb a gentle slope, and as you crest the hill, your jaw drops at the sight before you. A magnificent mansion rises from the landscape, its pale stone walls glowing warmly in the morning sunlight. The architecture is a stunning blend of classical elegance, with graceful arches and intricate stonework that seems to ripple and dance as you approach.

The central facade is a masterpiece of symmetry, with wide steps leading up to a grand entrance flanked by towering columns. Ivy climbs the walls in artful patterns, as if guided by an invisible hand to accentuate the building's most beautiful features.

The car follows the curve of the driveway as it sweeps up to the grand entrance before coming to a stop. You take a deep breath, steadying yourself for what lies ahead. The driver opens your door, and you step out onto the gravel, the crunch beneath your feet grounding you in the moment.

A figure emerges from the ornate double doors at the top of the steps, and your heart skips a beat as you recognize her instantly. Natasha Romanoff, the Chief Recruitment Officer, descends the stairs with astonishing grace. Her vibrant red hair catches the sunlight, creating a halo effect that seems almost otherworldly. She's dressed in a sleek black pantsuit that exudes both professionalism and an air of mystery. As your eyes meet hers, you're struck by the intensity of her gaze - piercing green eyes that seem to look right through you.

As she draws closer, you notice a subtle smile playing at the corners of her mouth, a mix of confidence and what you suspect to be mischief. Over the course of your brief interactions up to this point, she had been nothing but professional, but you could feel some alluring pull or energy that seemed to run deep beneath the surface of her controlled demeanor. She had been present in your second interview, conducted the third with one of her associates, and had been the one to schedule you for this.

"Welcome," Natasha says, her voice smooth as silk. "We're so pleased you could join us today." She extends her hand, and you shake it, noting the firmness of her grip.

"Thank you for having me," you reply, proud that your voice doesn't betray your nerves. "The estate is absolutely breathtaking."

Natasha's smile widens slightly. "It is, isn't it? We find that beauty inspires greatness. But come, let's not linger in the driveway. We have a full day and much to show you."

She gestures towards the entrance, and you fall into step beside her as you ascend the stone steps. The massive doors swing open silently, revealing a grand foyer that takes your breath away. The ceiling soars overhead, at least three stories, adorned with an intricate fresco depicting a beautiful sky, birds in flight, and towering trees, bringing the beauty of the grounds into this entry.

Natasha guides you through a doorway off to the side of the foyer, leading you into a small sitting room. The space is elegantly decorated with plush couches, rich mahogany furniture, and intricate paintings on the walls.

"Please, have a seat," Natasha gestures towards one of the couches as she takes a seat in an armchair across from you. You sink into the soft cushions, trying to take in everything at once - the opulence of the room, Natasha's presence, and her piercing gaze.

"First things first,” Natasha says, a professional smile on her face, “the nature of what goes on here is very sensitive and so I'll need you to sign this NDA before we continue." She hands you a stack of paperwork and a pen.

You quickly skim through the document before signing it, feeling slightly uneasy about signing something so quickly without fully understanding what the day ahead of you will entail. But your curiosity outweighs your hesitation and when Natasha takes back the signed document, she slides it into a briefcase by her side.

"Now that's out of the way," she says smoothly, "let me tell you more about our foundation."

She proceeds to give you an overview of the Winged Heritage Foundation – an overview of its history, mission, and values. It's all very intriguing and impressive - but although what she shares is engaging, outside of supporting initiatives identified as important to its founder and possibly something to do preservation of history or historical places and artifacts, you still feel you don’t have any clearer of an idea of what the Foundation’s actual purpose is. But since you have an entire day here, you don’t press the point now, assuming some part of the day will be dedicated to diving deeper into the work they do.

"But enough about us," Natasha says with another enigmatic smile. "Let's talk about what brought you here today."

She pulls out your resume from her briefcase and goes over your experience and qualifications with sharp attention to detail. She asks probing questions that make you feel like she's reading between the lines of your professional achievements.

"Impressive," she comments once she's finished going over your resume. "Your professional and personal character references also speak very highly of you."

Your brow furrows slightly. “Sorry,” you interject, “I don’t remember giving personal references?”

“No, you did not. But we do a lot of work on our end to vet candidates at this point for positions like this. Surely you understand.”

You nod slowly and train your face back into a smile. At least whatever homework they seem to have done on you came back with a positive result.

She leans forward slightly, and you can feel the intensity of her gaze. "We need someone who's truly suited for the responsibilities, but personnel fit is also incredibly important to us.”

“Of course,” you respond. “And what responsibilities exactly would you be looking for me to fulfill?”

Natasha presses her lips together and seems to scrutinize your face more closely. “You’re being considered for two opportunities. Until later in the day when I’ve made a determination on which I’ll recommend you for, I won’t be disclosing that information to you.”

“Oh,” you’re a little surprised at her directness, but you suppose her reason for withholding the information is logical.

“As the Chief Recruitment Officer, I’m very good at what I do, so I’ll know your future with us by the end of the day.”

Natasha rises from her chair with fluid grace. "Shall we begin the tour?" she asks, extending her hand to help you up. You take it, noting the surprising strength in her grip. “I'm eager to show you the wonders of our estate."

She seems to hold your hand longer than necessary, or maybe it’s just your nerves, maybe you looked unsteady standing up and she was only ensuring you were okay.

As you follow her out of the sitting room, you're once again struck by the grandeur of the foyer. Natasha notices your gaze lingering on the fresco above. "That was commissioned by our founder," she explains. "It's said to depict the view from the highest peak of a mountain range that no longer exists."

She leads you down a long corridor, its walls lined with portraits of distinguished-looking individuals. "Our benefactors and notable members throughout the years," Natasha explains. "Each one has contributed significantly to our mission."

The corridor opens into a vast library that takes your breath away. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves stretch as far as the eye can see, filled with leather-bound tomes. The air is heavy with the scent of old books and polished wood. Sunlight streams through tall windows, casting a warm glow over the room. The library is a bibliophile's dream, with rolling ladders affixed to the shelves, gorgeous wooden tables for spreading out books for research, and cozy reading nooks tucked into alcoves.

As you walk between the towering shelves, you notice that some of the books look ancient, their spines cracked and faded with age, some even appear to be bound in unfamiliar materials. Others appear to be in pristine condition, despite clearly being very old.

"Our collection is quite extensive," Natasha says, running her fingers along the spines of nearby books. "We have texts dating back centuries, some of which are the only surviving copies in the world."

"How do you preserve them so well?" you ask, unable to hide your fascination.

Natasha's lips curl into a mysterious smile. "We have our ways. Mostly it’s all down to our librarian Jarvis.”

She leads you through a set of double wooden doors at the other side of the library. Once you exit, Natasha leads you through a series of grand hallways, each more breathtaking than the last. The walls are adorned with tapestries and paintings that seem to come alive as you pass, their subjects' eyes following your movement. You could swear you see a figure in one portrait shift slightly, but when you look back, it's perfectly still.

"This wing houses our main offices and research facilities," Natasha explains as you walk. "We have state-of-the-art equipment for analyzing artifacts and documents, as well as a world-class conservation lab."

You pass by rooms filled with people working diligently at computers, their screens displaying what look like ancient texts and complex diagrams. In one room, you glimpse a team carefully examining what appears to be an old manuscript under specialized lighting.

As you continue down the hallway, you notice a door that seems different from the others. It's made of dark, heavy wood and adorned with intricate carvings. Unlike the other doors which are open or have glass panels, this one is firmly shut.

Natasha catches you looking at it. "That area is off-limits, I'm afraid. Some of our more... sensitive projects require absolute secrecy."

You nod but can't help feeling a prickle of curiosity. What could be behind that door that requires such concealment?

Natasha guides you to an elevator at the end of the hall. As you step inside, you notice there are more floors than you would have expected from the outside view of the mansion.

"We have quite extensive facilities underground," Natasha explains as she presses a button for one of the lower levels. "It allows us to maintain the historical integrity of the mansion's exterior while having all the modern amenities we need for our work."

The elevator descends smoothly, and when the doors open, you find yourself in a sleek, modern space that contrasts sharply with the ornate decor above. The walls are a pristine white, and the floors are polished concrete. The lighting is bright but not harsh, giving the space a clean, almost clinical feel.

Natasha leads you down a corridor lined with glass-walled rooms. In one, you see people in lab coats hunched over microscopes. In another, a group is gathered around a large touch screen, manipulating 3D models of what look like ancient artifacts.

"This is our primary research facility," Natasha says, leading you down a wide corridor. "We have some of the most advanced technology in the world at our disposal here."

As you walk, you pass by rooms with glass walls, allowing you to see inside. In one, you spot what looks like a holographic projection of a complex molecule rotating in mid-air. In another, a team of scientists in white lab coats huddle around a table, examining something you can't quite make out.

You pause for a moment, trying to take it all in. The contrast between the classical architecture upstairs and this futuristic facility is striking. "This is incredible," you say, unable to keep the awe from your voice. "I had no idea the Foundation had such advanced capabilities."

Natasha's lips curl into a satisfied smile. "We pride ourselves on being at the cutting edge of research and technology. It's essential for some of our work. We’re also one of the few science labs in the world that still is granted an affiliation with the nation of Wakanda."

As you continue down the corridor, you notice a few doors that aren't made of glass like the others. These are solid metal, with keycard readers and what look like biometric scanners next to them.

"What's behind those doors?" you ask, curiosity getting the better of you.

Natasha's expression doesn't change, but you sense a slight shift in her demeanor. "Those are our most sensitive research areas. Access is strictly limited to senior researchers and leadership."

As if orchestrated for this precise moment, the doors slide open, and two men emerge, engaged in a heated discussion. Or, rather, one of them is heated, and the other is shooting back casual, sarcastic comments.

Natasha clears her throat, “Gentlemen.”

They both stop.

“We have company,” she says, gesturing to you.

The two men turn to face you, and your jaw nearly drops as you instantly recognize them. Standing before you are none other than Tony Stark and Steve Rogers, two of the most famous figures in the world and certainly at the Foundation.

Tony Stark, looking every bit the billionaire genius he's known to be, is dressed in an impeccably tailored suit that probably costs more than your current yearly salary. His goatee is perfectly trimmed, and his hair is styled with just the right amount of casual messiness. There's a faint blue glow visible beneath his shirt - the arc reactor that's become his trademark.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Tony says, his eyes sparkling with curiosity and mischief. He steps forward, extending his hand. "Tony Stark. But you probably knew that already."

As you shake his hand, you can't help but feel a bit starstruck. Tony Stark's grip is brief but firm and confident, his smile charming yet slightly calculating as he sizes you up.

"And this strapping specimen of American values is Steve Rogers," Tony adds, gesturing to the man beside him.

Steve, standing tall and broad-shouldered, offers you a warm smile that seems to light up the room. He's dressed more casually than Tony in khakis and a fitted blue shirt that barely contains his muscular frame. His handshake is strong but gentle, and his blue eyes radiate sincerity.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Steve says, his voice deep and reassuring. "I hope you're enjoying your tour of our facilities."

You manage to find your voice, introducing yourself. “The tour has been nothing but fascinating and impressive so far,” you affirm.

Tony's eyes gleam with interest. "Oh, you’re the one they’ve been wooing, eh? I was sent no less than five reminders this morning that I was to be on my best behavior,” he discloses with a wink.

Natasha rolls her eyes, and you have the suspicion Steve only barely restrains himself from doing so.

"Anyway, welcome to the Foundation," Tony says.

"Stark is supposed to be one of our most valuable researchers," Natasha explains.

"Eh, that’s why you send Steve down to get me back in line when I’m pursuing tangential projects."

This time Steve does roll his eyes.

You can't help but chuckle at the banter between Tony and Steve. Their dynamic is exactly as you'd imagined from what you've seen in the media - Tony's quick wit and sarcasm playing off Steve's more serious demeanor.

"So, what do you think of our little operation so far?" Tony asks, gesturing broadly at the surrounding facility. "Pretty impressive, right?"

Before you can answer, Natasha interjects smoothly. "I'm sure our guest is finding everything quite fascinating, but we should continue the tour. I'm sure you both have important work to get back to."

Tony raises an eyebrow at Natasha, a silent exchange seeming to pass between them. "Right, right. Important work. Can't keep the world waiting, can we?" He turns back to you with a grin. "It was a pleasure meeting you. I’m sure we’ll be seeing you around."

“You’ll at the very least be seeing me,” Steve says. “I believe I’m scheduled to join you for lunch.”

“And I’m not invited?” Tony protests, but he sports an unrepentant grin rather than any genuine offense.

Steve puts a hand on Tony’s shoulder to steer him away, “You’re not the Executive Director of the Foundation, so, no.”

Tony shrugs out of his grip, “And remind me why that is?”

“‘All administrative, no science,’ as you aptly put it so many times when you remind me why you don’t want to listen to what I say.”

“Right,” Tony replies, but does fall into step with Steve heading down the corridor.

As they leave, you can't help but feel a mix of excitement and bewilderment. Meeting two such prominent figures so casually during your interview process only adds to the surreal nature of this experience.

Natasha gently touches your elbow and guides you away from the metal doors and continues down the corridor. "My apologies for that interruption," she says, though her tone suggests she's not entirely displeased. "Mr. Stark has a tendency to... make an impression."

You nod, still processing the encounter. "It's no problem at all. I'm just surprised to see them here. I knew they were involved with the Foundation, but I didn't realize they were so hands-on."

Natasha's lips curl into a knowing smile. "The Winged Heritage Foundation values the direct involvement of all its key members. You'll find that everyone here, regardless of their public status or their position in our organization, contributes actively to our mission.”

She leads you through more state-of-the-art laboratories and research facilities, each more impressive than the last, before returning to the elevator to bring you surface-level again.

As the elevator ascends, you find your mind racing with questions. The encounter with Stark and Rogers, the glimpses of cutting-edge technology, and the air of mystery surrounding certain areas of the facility have only heightened your curiosity about the true nature of the Winged Heritage Foundation is, showing you so much, but not truly illuminating any answers.  

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

Welcome to the Winged Heritage Foundation, lovelies. This is only the beginning... Where will this day take us? And what is going on here?

[btsbabe7]

November Prompt 21: Crisp Air

Words: 905 | Pairing: Neville Longbottom x reader

In the distance, you can make out Neville’s frame hunched on a bench in front of the main greenhouse. Thick brown vines trailing across the giant frosted windows hug the structure behind him and the morning horizon peeks just beyond it. The view is breathtaking, but you can’t bring yourself to stop staring at him.

Your close footsteps draw his attention from the book in his hands and up towards you. His thick brown hair is blowing in the soft morning winds and he shoves his book away, immediately coming off the bench to greet you with a warm smile. His gloved hands rest on your cheeks and he leans down to plant a soft kiss on your lips, warming you more than you’d been with your hands shoved inside your coat pockets on the walk over. When he pulls away, his ocean blue eyes gaze into yours and you get lost in them until the crisp morning air rushes over the both of you. The moment you shiver against him, he reaches into his bag for the extra greenhouse keys he’d managed to get from Professor Sprout at the beginning of the year.

“Next class isn’t due til noon, so we have plenty of time to study,” he grunts while pushing the heavy door open with his shoulder. With a sigh, he turns back toward you, following your lead after you step inside. Shortly after, he locks the door from the inside. “But I don’t understand why you want to study dittany, we’re far more advanced than that.”

You take in the warmth of the greenhouse. All the sunlight that seems to have disappeared over the week has been absorbed inside the frosted glass walls. Everywhere you turn there’s plant pots, soil and fertilizer bags or some green herb growing lushly. It makes you smile, makes you happy to be able to witness life in this form when everything outside of here is withering away and growing colder with winter fast approaching.

You peel your coat off, then your gloves and scarf and earmuffs and toss them on the only empty table you can find before turning to see your boyfriend’s look of confusion.

“Come on, Nev,” you purr softly. “Warm me up a bit?”

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip the moment he slips out of his coat and drops everything on the ground before scurrying to you. Neville steps in front of you, allowing his fingertips to curl against the hairs at the nape of your neck before pulling you into an open-mouthed kiss.

He’s gotten loads more attention now due to his changing looks, but you’ve had the real luxury of watching him grow older over the years. His puffy cheeks were the first to go, eventually rounding out into a sculpted, chiseled jawline and soon after, his body had done the same, leaving him with nothing but pure muscle that threatened to tear through the white button up he’d failed to replace. And though he had many physical changes, his kindness and courage and care for you always remained, and that’s what you love most.

You hop on top of the table, shaking a few pots in the neighboring potting tables which gains a laugh from the both of you. And once you’ve steadied yourself, you glide your hands over his, which had dropped to your waist during your kiss. Then, you trail up his wrists and slowly over his biceps until you reach his shoulder blades. You work your fingers tenderly into the knots that always form there and he grunts loudly in relief.

“You’re doing it again, aren’t you?” You moan. “Carrying all the plant pots for the first years?”

He bows his head in shame, knowing that he told you he’d stop two weeks ago.

“You know how heavy those pots can get, Y/n, and they’re so small. It reminds me of us seven years ago,” he admits.

“Nev, you promised. It’s admirable, truly, but you’re neglecting your own body.”

“I can handle it,” he whispers and leans in closer, looking you straight in the eyes with a smirk. “Besides, I have you to rub out all the kinks and knots.”

You scoff softly before giggling against his touch and pulling him closer. He rests his head against your shoulder, his breath steadying against the goosebumps that have prickled across your skin.

“Y/n?” He breathes.

“Mhm?”

“I want you to stay with me over the break,” he answers, pulling back to see the clear excitement and nervousness on your face.

In all the years of dating, he’d never asked, and during the times you’d begged him, he always said he didn’t want to intrude on you and your time with your family; though, he didn’t even have his own anymore.

“Yes. Yes! Of course I’ll come, Nev,” you exclaim and rest your hands against his collarbones.

“Y/n,” he says again and you gaze up into his eyes once more. “I’m absolutely head over heels in love with you.”

You blush hard as he brushes your tears away and pulls your lips back against his. In that kiss, you both make a silent vow to never abandon each other. And that vow, in a world where anything can be frigid and crisp on the outside, having the ability to lean on each other for warmth whenever you may need it feels absolutely amazing, just as love should.

Please be sure to check out my other latest fics:

⚡︎ November Prompt Challenge (days 1-30)

⚡︎ For You Always - reader x Snape

~ Navi: masterlist (all fandoms) & (bts imagines/drabbles)

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction, but please don’t copy! Written purely for fun :) Please only repost to other socials w/my permission and credit! Reblogging w/credit is fine. Thank you! ♡

[brewed-pangolin]

Is Captain MacTavish also a gym rat? If so, please explain...in detail 🫠😉

Captain MacTavish is absolutely a gym rat. But unlike the maniacal menace that is Sgt. Gym Rat Soap, this beast is much more refined, disciplined, and methodical.

And the best damn eye candy you've ever seen while you focus on your own routine.

Just a sprinkle of NSFW at the end...

Pulled a bit from this post by @obligatoryghoststare

--

Wardrobe

First of all, he'd rather be caught dead than wear a pair of high thigh gym shorts. This man is always well put together, even while pumping iron at the local fitness center.

And he is a walking billboard for Under Armor.

Prefers more natural colors for his outfit; black, grey, royal blue, forest green. Nothing eye catching or brighter than an earthy hue. Doesn't need to draw more attention to himself. His sculpted body does that enough.

Compression shorts are a must. Pulls the sweat, keeps him dry, and holds everything in place. (Man's got a healthy Lorne sausage to contend with)

Topped with a fitted muscle shirt, of the same color. The Captain must have synchronization with his wardrobe. Always. (Well put together, like previously stated)

He's always going to wear darker tones with the compression fabric, mainly because he likes to overlay that with something more lose fitting and in a softer hue (think whites, light grays, may dabble in some soft blues or greens)

And while not technically wardrobe, will always have a half gallon steel water bottle within reach. Hydration is key.

Routine

Captain MacTavish is the epitome of methodical routines when it comes to gym. He's like clockwork.

His mid routine will change depending on the week (leg day, arm day, chest, back, weights, you get the idea) but his beginning and end are always the same.

First and foremost, stretching. The most important part of a workout.

Next, treadmill. 30 minutes. No more, no less. And this beast looks majestic while he runs. Perfect strides, breathing heavy yet measured. Just a beautiful sight to behold.

And this mofo sweats. Not an obscene amount, just enough to make him glisten. (Sparkling sexy beast)

Now, bulking up. Weights. Soap uses both free weights and strengthening machines, for obvious reasons. Free weights for compound movements, machines for isolating certain muscle groups.

You'd think he'd be loud during his weight training, but no. He's classy. And he's not rude. He may let out a few heavy breaths and an occasional low growl, but nothing too audible. He's already got countless eyes on him, no reason to bring in more attention.

Enjoys his time on the rowing machine. Prefers it after a his weight training. Aids in recovery, calms his mind. Builds his endurance. (And this man's all about endurance)

Lives for the circuit.

[2min/station, 1min rest b/w, 2 loops]

[Pull ups, planks, tire/sledgehammer, kettle lifts]

Pulled straight from his journal

The Captain is in his natural environment when perfecting and strengthening his mind and body. Goes into a daze. Movement remiscent to a skilled predator. It's a sight every gym enthusiast pushes to achieve, and every casual enjoyed drinks in to the fullest

Recovery

His recovery will change depending on his core routine for the day. Sometimes he finishes with a light jog or brisk walk on the treadmill again.

Perhaps even go another round on the rowing machine. Helps him clear the daze and focus his mind in preparation for the next phase.

But it culminates to a relaxing session of yoga because this man knows the benefits of centering himself post pump and grind.

And this is where you come in. He's more than happy to assist in perfecting your downward dog in the process while he lets his body recover from a rough workout.

Expect to be pulled into a private room once he's all limbered up after his full exercise session. Nothing quite like finishing his routine by emptying himself in your needy little hole. (Post endurance high nut is his favorite, afterall)

Captain MacTavish Masterlist

[peppermintquartz]

Buck is outside manning the comms, with Chimney monitoring two people breathing in oxygen, having been closest to the malfunctioning pyrotechnics. The arena is being checked by the rest of the team. At least there aren't any serious casualties.

Two guys clad in leather gear - one of them with long braided hair and eyeliner, the other with very striking blue eyes and impossible abs- wander over to Buck.

"Hey, thanks for what you're doing," says the shorter one. He has a distinct Irish accent. Buck is certain that if he were not already happily attached, he'd want to try his luck with this one. "Pyro really fucked up tonight."

The tall one laughs, his voice a mellow, deep tone. "Hunter's gonna have their heads for this screwup. Imagine if this was at Mania." He mimes an axe chopping at his neck.

"Sometimes circuits go haywire," Chimney chimes in. "I heard there wasn't anything wrong yesterday during rehearsals."

Irish shrugs. "I was there only for our bit. Pyro went off okay at that time." Then he smiles, and it's a megawatt smile that hits Buck like a truck. "Forgot my manners. Fergal, but people round here also call me Finn."

"Damian," says the tall one.

Buck shakes their hands. Damn, they're strong. "Buckley, but I go by Buck. This is Chimney."

Damian looks curious. "That's an interesting nickname. How did you get it?"

Before Chimney shares his story, another guy calls out, "Heyo! I was looking for you guys. Ay, who's this handsome brother?"

The guy that called out and joins them is taller than Fergal, with a genuine mullet and some unfortunate facial hair, but he has a bouncy, golden retriever energy about him even though he's dressed in purple and black, like Finn and Damian.

Buck grins. "I'm Buck, this is Chimney."

"Firefighters! So cool. I wanted to be one when I was a kid, pero it was only for, like, a month, just before that custody match. I'm Dom." The guy waves at someone behind Buck. "AY, MAMI! Get here, we got two hotties to chat with while they deal with the inside."

A young woman with insanely sculpted shoulders and back - Buck feels almost skinny next to her - walks over. Her eyes are heavily made up and her hair gelled down, making her look intimidating and extremely goth, but her tone is light and cheery. "Hey! Agnes got my makeup done in the parking lots instead. I hear Bob say we're just gonna start half an hour later." She waves hi to the two firefighters. "Rhea. Can't thank you guys enough for what you're doing, lots of fans traveled here for tonight and I'd hate to let them down."

"It's our duty," Chimney says. Then he adds, "Say, we don't have paper or pens on us, but is it cool if we do a group selfie?"

"Sure!" Dom is the first to whip out his phone. "Dames, your arm's the longest."

"World Heavyweight Champion and a glorified selfie stick, that's me alright," Damian grumbles good-naturedly.

Buck is thanking them when Chimney suddenly says, "Hey, Fergal, can you Too Sweet Buck?"

"What? What's that?" Buck is thoroughly bewildered. It sounds kinky, but Chim wouldn't suggest something inappropriate.

Chimney rolls his eyes. "How have you been dating Tommy and not watched any pro wrestling?"

Buck wants to retort that he and Tommy have better things to do, but realizes that he's literally with a bunch of pro wrestlers.

Fergal chuckles. He has really red lips, Buck notices, distracted momentarily.

"You just hold your hand up like this, touch the tip of your middle and ring finger to your thumb," Fergal explains, demonstrating. "Hold it here - okay."

Then Fergal does the same gesture with his left hand and touches their fingertips together, holding the pose long enough for Chimney to get a couple of photos on Dom's phone.

"I'm posting these to Instagram," Dom announces. "You want I should tag you both?"

"Sure!"

*

Tommy is staring at his phone when Buck gets home, but his head snaps up and he is totally starstruck.

"You were Too Sweeted by Fergal Devitt? What's he like? Is he more handsome in person?" Tommy asks in a rush.

Buck rolls his eyes fondly. "Nice to see you too, babe."

Tommy jumps off the couch and kisses Buck. "Sorry. Welcome home. Also, wow? The Judgment Day? And Fergal fucking Devitt?"

"Why? Is he a big deal?" Buck already knows - he spent the rest of his shift looking up the group he took selfies with and watching some of their matches.

"Only the founder of one of the most influential factions in all of pro wrestling?!" Tommy is practically squealing. "Tell me everything."

Buck has to laugh at his boyfriend fanboying hard. He pecks Tommy's cheek and taps the tip of his aquiline nose. "You are ridiculously cute. I gotta shower, and I'll tell you over dinner."

"At least tell me he's as pretty in person as in pictures," Tommy almost whines.

Buck smirks. He's also checked out their socials. "Oh, way prettier."

[inncubus-honey]

leaping into his arms

a/n: omg a stray kids fic!!!! im sure yall noticed i lost a bit of love for stray kids; i just got overwhelmed with keeping up everything all the time and i was going through major stuff so i switched to writing for cod, but i think im gonna write for them again. slowly, but, i may put out some more skz fics.

kim seungmin x gn!reader

Word Count: 1.7k

︶︶︶ 𔓕 ︶︶ ୨୧ ︶︶ 𔓕 ︶︶︶ ︶︶︶ 𔓕 ︶︶ ୨୧ ︶︶ 𔓕 ︶︶︶

the desperate need to be understood yet so terrified to be known wears heavy on the heart and mind. just wanting to tell someone, anyone, who speaks to you just how tired you are of fighting those feelings, how numb you feel when you’re alone. to quietly sit with your friends in a restaurant, your mind tuning everything out as others laughed, talking about everything and anything under the sun, it was like watching everyone move in slow motion. just feeling like you’re falling behind as everything inside was fighting, creating inner turmoil.

until you met him that was.

you bumped into kim seungmin during a late night walk; you had just dinner with friends, along with some soju and beer. it had been one of your better days. your mind was quieter all day while your heart felt normal for once, so you indulged with soju and beer. while seungmin had done a late night walk and stopped to get a drink from a nearby convenience store. you had stumbled a bit over a rock while you were already a bit tipsy, thankfully, seungmin who just rounded the corner saw you wobbly on the rock and caught you in time.

his quick thinking allowed seungmin to catch you by your waist which caused your face to bump into his chest. a low groan left your lips as you made contact with his chest, it felt your soft pillow at home. but once you felt arms around your waist, you finally opened your eyes to see a handsome young man holding you up against him. quickly straighten yourself up from the mans hold, you dusted yourself off and fixed your jacket and bag.

thats when you got a better look at the man before you. a soft light from the cool toned street light created perfect shadows upon his face. whiskey eyes watched you, taking in all of your features as they were coated in the same lighting. your features ingraining themselves onto to seungmins eyelids, he never wanted to look away from your sculpted beauty. 

“i-im sorry about th-that…are you alright?” you mumbled, hiding your arms behind your back. seeing you immediately straighten up and act like you didnt almost trip caused seungmin hold back a chuckle as he sipped on an americano. it was like watching a cat act like it didnt caught in some place it wasnt suppose to be.

“its alright, i was just in the right place at the right time. i should be asking if you’re alright? do you need help getting home?” he returned the question as strands of his blonde money piece(think maxident seungmin). as you took in all of him, you shook your head a bit as you finally realized he replied back.

“oh…no thanks, im good. its late, we probably both should be getting home.” you quickly, trying to get around him as you didnt want him to waste time on you.  but as you tried to push past him, he gently reached out for your wrist causing you to stop in your tracks.

“it wouldnt be wise to walk home this late at night by yourself after having drinks…let me walk you home. please.” he spoke as the wind softly picked up around you. you thought to yourself about how right he was, but your mind was fighting with you on accepting his help. you were you, which meant you were normally by yourself. 

you looked after you.

but your heart pulled towards his whiskey eyes and the soft hold on your wrist.

“ok. thank you…” you trailed off for him to finish.

“kim seungmin. and you?” he let go of your wrist as you both started walking the direction of your apartment. 

“___ ___. nice to meet you, seungmin.”, you smiled at him as he sipped his coffee. his gazed trained on you, your voices carried softly on the night wind. your gazes meeting as you turned up to meet his eyes; your heart felt funny as he gave a boyish smile which allowed you to see his dumpling cheeks.

“so what were you doing out this late, seungmin?”  you questioned. various street and neon lights reflecting off the both of you. each lighting and shadows burning themselves into each others heart, slow steps being taken to draw out the time together.

“i was craving a snack and americano. were you out with friends?” he asked, throwing away his empty cup, his hands sitting in his grey hoodie pocket. your hands rested on the front of your body as you held your bag in front of you, soon you turned the corner that led to your apartment building.

“um..this is me. thank you for walking me all the way back, seungmin. i didn't mean to bother you this late at night.” giving him a slight bow, you started to turn and walk away not wanting to keep seungmin from going home any longer.

“ hey ___ wait!” he called out, skipping three steps to meet you in front of the glass doors. a nit startled at how fast he jumped up the steps, you stumbled a few steps back to give more room between each other.

“you didnt even give me a chance to respond. did i upset you that much?” he teased. you had to fight the faster beater of your heart with his lips turning into a smirk. you shook your head as you realized what it looked like to leave him so suddenly.

“no! no…i just didnt want to keep you here any longer is all. you must be tired and wanting to get home…” you trailed off, feeling weird to express such things to a stranger you just met. boyish charm, glistening smile and big boba eyes almost acting like a finishing hook in your brain as they dug those feelings you thought you were use to ignoring.

“good cause i would hate it if i did upset you then gave you my phone number then never saw you again.” he joked, pulling out a crumpled up post-it note and pen from his hoodie pocket. you watched as he tried to perfectly write his number on his open palm acting like a flat surface, a small chuckle sounding off from you as you watched him repeatedly scratch the pen to get it to work.

“here…i would like to get coffee with you some time.” his gaze catching the floor as you held the crumpled paper with black ink in your hand. waves of nerves and nausea worked over you, feeling like a fever dream at 1 in the morning. seungmin would never forgive himself if he didnt you his number before bidding you goodnight; he only knew you for about 20 minutes and he was already planning the next series of dates he was going to take you on if you said yes.

“yeah…yeah i would like that as well, seungmin.” a soft voice leaving you as he met your gaze again. saving the paper in your pocket and giving him a soft smile and wave you headed into your apartment building, releasing the deep you had been holding. while seungmin smirked to himself as he walked back to the dorm and thought about the cute, little deer he meet near the convenience store. thinking about how he cant wait for your first date and all the ones following it.

god it was like a veil was lifted from your inner consciousness. truly feeling that you existed once again in the universe was like taking a deep breath after drowning for so long. hearing the chirps of birds in the morning felt better than other days, food seemed to taste a bit sweeter. 

seungmin seemed to have cast this hue over your eyes. everything was brighter and softer looking; rounder edges with soft lighting coasted over everything. it was a refreshing outlook for you mind to seem from for the first time in awhile. 

“___, did you hear what i asked?” seungmins voice lulled you from your thoughts as you thought back to how your feelings were effecting you. focusing back to seungmin as he sat across from you in the tiny cafe table. by now you had been on a multitude dates with seungmin with some to cafes, restaurants, baseballs games, museums or even just going for some late night walks in either of yalls neighborhoods. 

“sorry, i spaced out a bit. what did you ask, minnie?” giving him a small smirk at the nickname, seungmin just responded with playful groan. he placed the coffee you order in front of you, sliding a muffin along with it.

“i asked how you felt about going to the aquarium today, dummy? if you didnt answer soon, i was just gonna leave without you.” he bit back a smile as you rolled your eyes at the comment. you took a sip of your coffee then breaking off a piece of the muffin; it was nice and fluffy with a perfect about of blueberries.

“that sounds wonderful, minnie.” he hid his smile and blushy cheeks behind his coffee, turning away from your puppy eyes. just big and wanting his attention, seungmin thought it was too cute and it took everything in him not to bite and kiss your puffy cheeks.

as you both sipped on your coffee and you finished the muffin seungmin got you, soon you headed to the aquarium. hand in hand, he lightly swing your arms back and forth as he talked which exhibits he wanted to see most and maybe getting a plushie or two from the gift shop. 

wanting to be understood while afraid of being known felt was something that you would never not know. but now knowing what you have experienced with seungmin was something you wished to never to be without.

but seungmin embraced with comforting hug as you took a leap into his arms from your lonely platform where you spent a lot of time alone before meeting him. watching seungmin talk about the sea life exhibits hes seen before with the boys like a kid explaining about their favorite toy caused you to lean up to him and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

“i love you, seungmin. a lot.” you softly spoke your words to him, giving his hand a gently squeeze.

taking your hand and pulling into his arms, seungmin tucked you under his chin and placed his arms around your shoulders. you placed your arms around his waist, taking comfort in the feeling of seungmins chest. seungmin loved seeing you slowly become more confident with yourself over the last six months of yall dating, he loved that you loved yourself.

“i love you more, dummy. now lets go before it gets crowded.” he teased you in the this sappy moment. going to locking hands, swinging them back and forth like kids, a lovely smile graced your features as seungmin went back to talking about sea animals and entered the aquarium for your date.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

Prompt-ober 2023 – Mythology and chaste kiss

From the moment Harry first sees the block of marble, he knows what it’s meant to be. He gets it at a discount due to some flaws – not enough dark green striations to look intentional, too many to create a piece using only the pure white marble, a slight crack formed during transport from the quarry. None of them matter to Harry. Once he has it in place in his spartan studio, Harry works like a man possessed to bring his creation to life. His friends, well aware of how Harry gets when he’s sculpting, pop by to bring him food and drink and make him take breaks to sleep. He’s not sure what he’d do without them. Probably die from overwork and malnutrition. He’ll have to do something really nice for them once he’s finished his sculpture. It takes three months of solid, near round-the-clock work to chip the precious but unnecessary stone away from the form he can envision within. The time flies by. He knows he’s never seen the face he’s shaping before, but it seems so familiar to him. If he were to really think about it, he might be able to determine who he’d used as a reference for the chin or the nose or the lips. But looking at the features as they take form, he can’t imagine them any other way. He takes his time with the final polishing, ensuring the sheen and smoothness of the stone appears as perfect as he can make it. The sculpture’s skin almost glows – he’s gotten the translucent lustre just right. Harry stands back and takes in his finished work, removing his apron, pockets heavy with chisels, rasps and sanding paper, and dusting off his worn, ripped jeans.  The figure is seated on an ornate throne, slouching the slightest bit and staring down its aquiline nose at some unseen supplicant. The face is beautiful, but there’s a cruelty to the arch of its brow and the twist of its full lips. Lush, wavy hair frames high cheekbones, leading down to a long neck and broad shoulders. The sculpture’s body is trim and firm, but the musculature isn’t overly defined. Seven dark green veins of varying sizes spiderweb across the figure’s torso and arms. Its feet are planted solidly on the plinth beneath it, arms loose but holding a sword across its lap – covered with carved, draping fabric for modesty, because Harry just couldn’t visualise the sculpture’s bits and, at a certain point, he'd felt decidedly perverted from his continued efforts to do so. He has always been told that his sculptures are full of vitality – that they look ready to step off their plinth and join the world of the living. But even he thinks he’s outdone himself this time. Harry decides to catch a few hours of sleep then give the sculpture one final go-over. Before he puts out the lights and leaves, he wanders over to stare at his creation, looking as an observer rather than the craftsman. He’d been so careful to touch the marble with his bare skin as little as possible, to prevent his skin oils from discolouring the stone. But, just this once, he allows himself to reach out and gently stroke the sculpture’s cheek with the backs of his fingers. Cold and smooth. When Hermione had last popped in to make sure he was eating enough, she’d looked at his sculpture, raised her eyebrows, then looked at Harry and asked if he’d finally carved himself a Galatea. Harry had huffed a laugh – people had been making those sorts of comments to him for years at this point – and asked Hermione about her work at the library. But now, as he rests his hand against the figure’s cheek, he wonders if she’d noticed something he hadn’t. He’ll miss this project more than any other, once it’s sent to the gallery that displays his work. He leans in closer and presses his lips, feather-light, against the figure’s lips, thinking maybe… But he’s no Pygmalion, and the sculpture remains marble beneath his touch. Laughing a little at his fanciful actions, Harry finishes closing up his studio for the day and goes to rest. ──⚝── Hours later, with dawn’s first light illuminating the airborne dust in the studio and no one around to see, a marble finger twitches.

Part two can be read here.

[stardust-swan]

can you go more in depth on beauty secrets by geishas? i’ve always found them so interesting.

Geisha are very secretive about their inner lives, so it's hard to know for sure things like exactly what they would have done during their skincare routine or what kind of perfume they used, but we do know about their makeup, hair, and clothing. A lot of this information comes from the most successful geiko of Kyoto, Mineko Iwasaki's memoir Geisha, A Life (also known as Geisha of Gion), which was controversial among her peers as she revealed a lot of behind the scenes info on what life as a geisha is like. It's a very interesting read if you're interested in the inner lives of geisha. It can be downloaded on Libgen.

The Geisha Ideal

Mineko Iwasaki described how a geisha is meant to look:

She has the classic looks of a Heian princess, as though she might have stepped out of an eleventh-century scroll painting. Her face is a perfect oval. Her skin is white and flawless, her hair black as a raven’s wing. Her brows are half moons, her mouth a delicate rosebud. Her neck is long and sensuous, her figure gently rounded.

Makeup

Geisha wear highly stylised makeup derived from the kabuki tradition.

Foundation: Bintsuke oil paste is applied to the face, neck, and upper back as a base.

White Makeup: White face powder, made of rice powder, is mixed with water to form a paste. The face, neck, and upper chest are painted. Three stripes on the back of the neck are left unpainted in order to emphasize its slenderness, as in Japan the nape of the neck is considered beautiful. If wearing ordinary kimonos instead of formal outfit, only two lines will be left unpainted.

Eyebrows and eyes: As their eyebrows have been covered up by the white makeup, they are redrawn in pencil or charcoal. Black eyeliner is worn on the top lash line. Maiko (trainee geisha) use distinctive red eye makeup, whereas as geisha wear black eye makeup or may use subtle red makeup at the start of their brows. A crescent moon eyebrow shape is preferred.

Blush: Maiko wear pink blush on their cheeks, whereas geishas faces are completely white.

Lips: Maiko only paint one of their lips, while geisha paint both lips. They use a bold red lipstick which is derived from the red safflower, mixing it with water (and some also add sugar). They use a brush to paint a shape a bit smaller than their natural lip shape, as small lips are considered delicate. Tatcha has a lipstick called Kyoto Red which is in the same shade of red that geishas use.

Older geisha typically only wear a full face of makeup for performances and special occasions.

In the past, geisha would paint their teeth black, but today it is very uncommon, although some Kyoto geisha still practice it.

Hair

There are different hairstyles for different stages of a geisha's career.

Junior maiko wear the wareshinobu (split peach) style.

Senior maiko wear the ofuku style

Yakko is worn for formal events

Katsuyama is worn for one month before and one month after the Gion Festival in July

The sakko is worn in the final month of a maiko's training. On their very last day as a maiko, the tie holding their topknot is ritually cut off.

After becoming geisha, they wear the shimada hairstyle, an elaborate high chignon.

Mineko Iwasaki's description of the wareshinobu style:

The hair is swept up and sculpted into a mass on the top of the head that is secured by red silk bands (kanoko) front and back and decorated with kanzashi, the stick pin ornaments so distinctive of the karyukai look. It is said that this simple, elegant style showcases the curve of the young girl’s neck and the freshness of her features to their best advantage.

To preserve their elaborate hairstyles, geisha would sleep on a rectangular lacquered wooden pillow topped with a narrow cushion. If a girl found it difficult to sleep on these pillows, the maids would sprinkle rice bran around the pillow, so that if the girl removed the pillow, bits of bran would stick to the pomade in her hair, forcing her to have to go to the hairdressers again. Geisha would visit the hairdressers every five days.

These days geisha just wear wigs, which as well as being more convenient, also prevent bald spots from forming, a common problem geisha in the past dealt with due to constant stress on the roots of their hair. Maiko are still required to use their real hair.

Geisha also got their faces shaved when they went to the hairdresser.

As well as wearing their hair in elaborate styles, geisha also decorate them with ornaments. This description is of the first set of hair ornaments Mineko Iwasaki wore:

I wore two hairpins tipped with silk plum blossoms (because it was February) on the sides of the back of the bun, a pair of silver flutters (bira) on the sides in front, an orange blossom pin (tachibana) on top, and a long pin tipped with balls of red coral (akadama) and jade, inserted horizontally through the base.

Maiko wear colourful hair ornaments with flower motifs that change every month.

Full-fledged geisha don't wear as many hair ornaments, just a simple comb and hairpins, and their hairpins aren't as elaborate as the ones worn by maikos.

The hair ornaments serve purposes other than just decoration. The pointed ends of the pins are used to protect geisha from attacks, and the coral ornaments worn in colder months are used to test whether sake has been poisoned as coral breaks in the presence of poison.

Fashion

Maiko wear more elaborate outfits than geisha do in order to compensate for their lack of expertise and knowledge. Mineko Iwasaki described one of her maiko outfits this way:

My kimono was made out of figured satin in variegated turquoise. The heavy hem of the train was dyed in shades of burnt orange, against which floated a drift of pine needles, maple leaves, cherry blossoms and chrysanthemum petals. My obi was made of black damask decorated with swallowtail butterflies. I wore a matching obi clasp of a swallowtail butterfly fashioned out of silver.

I carried the traditional handbag called a kago, which has a basketweave base topped by a drawstring pouch of colorful tie dyed silk, shibori, which is made by tying silk into a myriad of minute knots with thread before it is dyed. The result is a stunning dappled effect. Kyoto is famous for this technique. It is the one that was practiced by my mother.

The shibori of my handbag was pale peach and sported a design of cabbage butterflies. It held my dancing fan (decorated with the three red diamonds of the Konoe family [close advisers to the emperor] painted on a gold background), a red-and-white hand towel decorated in a matching pattern, a boxwood comb, and various other accessories. All of these were encased in covers made from the same silk as the bag, and all of them were monogrammed.

Maiko wear a collar called eri, which is hand-sewn onto the nagajuban (a robe worn under the kimono) for each wearing. These red collars tell a story in and of themselves. They are made from silk that has been finely embroidered with white, silver, and gold thread. The younger one is the less dense the embroidery and the more visible the red of the silk. As one matures, the appliqué becomes heavier until little red (a symbol of childhood) can be seen. The progression continues until the day one “turns one’s collar” from maiko to geiko and begins to wear a white collar instead of a red one.

Under their clothes, geisha wear two rectangular undergarments made of cotton, one wrapped tight around the chest and the other wrapped tight around the hips. This helps flattens and smoothes the lines of the kimono. Next comes a long cotton hip wrap, like a half-slip, then a pair of long bloomers to preserve modesty should the front fold of the kimono open.

Next comes the hadajuban, a loose blouselike garment that follows the lines of the kimono. A maiko’s hadajuban has a red collar. Over this, a full length under robe is worn called a nagajuban. Mineko Iwasaki described hers as being "made from tie-died silk figured with a fan-shaped pattern and embroidered with an assortment of flowers."

After their undergarments are on, the kimono and obi (sash) are put on. Their kimono and obi have different designs for each season. For example, in summer, a kimono with hydrangeas might be worn and in Autumn a kimono with maple leaves might be worn. Kimonos for the winter months are made from thicker silk than kimonos for the warm months.

Geisha wear kimonos with more subdued colours and shorter obis than maiko do. A maiko's long obi will sometimes have the crest of the okiya she lives in on it. The clothes worn by geisha and maiko alike are made of expensive silk and are tailor made.

Geisha aren't dressed by themselves, but rather they have professional dressers who dress them every day. The dressers must ensure perfection, and they are the ones who bear the blame if anything is missing, out of place, or seasonally inappropriate.

Mineko describes a maiko's shoes as thus:

Kimono are always worn with either wooden or leather sandals. Okobo, 6-inch-high clog-like wooden sandals, are a distinctive part of a maiko’s outfit. The height of the sandal is a counterbalance to the dangling ends of the maiko’s long obi. Okobo are difficult to walk in, but the mincing gait they ensure is thought to add to the maiko’s allure.

Maiko and geiko always wear white tabi socks. The big toe of the tabi is separated, like a mitten, so that the toes can grip the sandal easily. We wear socks one size smaller than our shoe size, which leads a neat and dainty appearance to the foot.

First year maiko's shoes have little bells dangling from them that makes a sound when they move. Geisha wear flat zori or geta rather than okobo.

The finishing touches to a geisha's outfit are a kimono bag and a fan.

Skincare

We don't know what geisha did when they were sat in front of their mirrors after removing makeup, but we can speculate based on the kind of skincare Japanese women used in times past.

Translucent, white skin was a Japanese ideal of feminine beauty, so they might have used whitening face creams. Camellia oil is commonly used as a cleanser, moisturiser, and to remove makeup in Japan. Rice bran is also used as a cleanser (it's good for dissolving binsuke) and ground azuki beans are used as an exfoliater. Cooled green tea, full of antioxidants, is used as a toner. Squalane and seaweed are used as moisturizers. Parasols are used to protect the skin from the sun.

Mineko Iwasaki describes a bath she took after a long day:

I lowered myself gingerly into the steaming water and soaked until my skin was supple. Then I got out of the tub and, with a bucket and hot water from a spigot in the wall, washed thoroughly with soap and water. Next I rubbed myself all over with a net pouch filled with rice bran. Rice bran contains a significant amount of Vitamin B and is great for the skin. Then I got back in the tub for a final soak.

Geisha also bathe in onsens.

Perfume

We do know geisha wear perfume, but specific fragrances are hard to pin down.

Guerlain made a perfume called "Yakko," inspired by the geisha Sadayakko, who was the first geisha to travel Europe, inspired Puccini's opera Madame Butterfly, and licensed her name to a range of beauty products. It's hard to find any information on the Yakko perfume or what notes it contained, but Guerlain's famous Mitsouko perfume came out in 1919. Inspired by Japan, it contains bergamot, peach, jasmine, rose, and spices.

In the early 20th century, perfumes by French designers like Guerlain, Coty, Chanel and Patou became fashionable among upper class Japanese women, so it's possible geisha used fragrances from these houses to further enhance their allure.

Mineko Iwasaki described one of the first geisha she knew as wearing strong perfume, which caused a cloud of scent to waft into the room every time she fluttered her fan, so perhaps in times past geisha wore perfumes with loud projection that helped them be noticed. In modern Japan, strong perfume is unpopular, as it can bother people on public transport and interfere with the smell and taste of food in restaurants. Geisha, being the perfect hostesses, may not choose a heavy perfume in the modern era so as to follow etiquette and not disturb their clients while they're enjoying a nice meal. Brands known for their light perfumes like Maison Margiela and Diptyque are top-sellers in Japan.

Until the mid 19th century in Japan, it was common for women to scent their kimonos by leaving them on top of an incense burner in a small cage.

Geisha and oiran (courtesans) would carry pieces of scented wood in their sleeves, and would rub scented powder into their hands and necks.

Misc

Mineko Iwasaki described carrying a handbag which contained her fan, a hand towel, lipstick, comb, and a small cushion. Every item had its own carrying case made from Eriman red silk and monogrammed in white with the characters for Mineko.

Shiseido, a brand which is still going strong today, was founded in Japan in 1872. Among their most popular early cosmetics were scented hair tonics and floral perfumes, which were considered to contribute to the brand's luxurious image, helping to make it popular with Japan's upper class. Geisha were at the forefront of beauty and sophistication, so while there's no documentation of it, it's likely that some of their products found their way into the toilettes of geisha due to its prominence in early 20th century Japan and sophisticated image.

A big part of the geisha's appeal isn't just her looks, but her demeanor, the way she moves, and her conversational skills. Geisha train in dance and traditional Japanese arts and are experts at having sophisticated conversations. Not going to go into too much detail as it's its own topic, but it's good to remember that a big part of their mystique comes from their talent, grace and etiquette, not just their physical beauty. They're the full package, not just part of it.

[lady-of-tearshed]

Speaking of Bryaxis would you be willing to write something where the Valkyrie are friends with him and find out he's as bad a gossip as the Suriel? He doesn't even need to make an appearance it could just be a combo they're having at training during cool down or stretching about the gossip he's spreading. Of course it would be great if Cassian freaked out. Maybe all of the guys could become a bit more scared of the Valkyrie and or gain respect for them

King of gossip

Summary: The Valkyries are having a book club meeting, but it turns into a conversation about their new friend, Bryaxis, latest gossip. Feyre, trying to rekindle a kind of "sisterhood" with Nesta, joins them and confess she knew about someone who loved to spill the tea, too...

Word count: 1.3K

Warnings: None.

A/N: Well! First request, I hope it doesn't disappoint!

Laughter echoed through Nesta's door. Feyre stood behind it, a tray of freshly baked goods in hands. She bathed in the joyful sounds that her big sister and her new friends made. Nesta was glowing lately. She looked happy, clean, satisfied, and peaceful. Feyre had never seen her sister happier than on the day of her mating ceremony with Cassian. That man truly saved Nesta from her darkness. He had always kept holding out his hand to her despite her snarls and bites, and always will. Feyre would forever be grateful for that man to be part of Nesta’s life. She would also always remind herself of the strength Nesta has, that too helped the eldest to get through all of her difficulties. 

Nesta seemed to have finally found her people. The ones that made her whole and happy. Feyre knocked on the door softly before peeking her head in. The laughter in the room ceased progressively when she walked in, the group of Valkyries staring at her. Gwyneth almost squealed in excitement at the sight of the cookie pan in Feyre's hands. Nesta rolled her eyes, trying to look unbothered by her sister's presence, even though deep down, she was glad Feyre was here. She was even more glad that they managed to rekindle their “sisterhood”, as Feyre called it. Maybe one day Nesta would admit it to her little sister, that she forgives her for her clumsiness in trying to help her. She knew her intentions were good. 

“I thought you guys might enjoy some snacks for your… reading club, is that it?” Feyre chimed in, trying to hide her nervousness as she entered the room. To her surprise, Nesta didn’t give a snarky response, nor kindly kicked her out. The eldest simply raised her chin and took a cookie off the platter. Nesta grinned slightly at the flavors exploding in her mouth. She murmured a thanks to her younger sister, and then Feyre put the tray down on the sculpted oak coffee table. Gwyneth spoke up then, her pale freckled cheeks already covered in cookie crumbs. “Well, we weren't actually reading. Actually, we were talking about Bryaxis’ latest gossip about the “Lord of bloodshed”...” 

At that, another round of laughter erupted in the room. Emerie managed to explain to Feyre what that gossip was about, while the two other Valkyries were still wheezing and holding their bellies. “Well… Bryaxis said that once… He saw Cassian walk into the library to pick up one of Nesta's latest readings… and took notes of the steamy scenes…” Emerie wiped a tear with her finger, trying to steady her breathing from laughing too much about the mental image of the General actually taking notes, as if he would just read them out while having sex with Nesta. 

Feyre laughed too, and Nesta scooched over on the couch, offering her an indirect invitation to join them. Feyre smiled, and sat down beside her sister. She wanted to say thank you to her sister, thank you for letting her in. But she knew it would make Nesta uncomfortable and that she would most likely close up on herself and tell her to fuck off. So she didn't, and just enjoyed Nesta’s sweet gesture. The High Lady adjusted herself on the couch, crossing her legs and took a pillow to squeeze between her arms. “I think Bryaxis is really the king of gossip… maybe we should name him that.” Nesta said, a glint of amusement flickering in her eyes as she looked over her sister, sitting beside her. A wry smile appeared on Feyre's face, a smile Nesta knew all too well. A smile that meant “I know something you don't.”. She cooked an eyebrow up and now everyone was staring at the younger Archeron in the room for further explanations.

Feyre chuckled and sighed, leaning further into the couch. She slowly took a bite of the cookies she made with Elain earlier today, before the middle Archeron sister left her to go on a date, no, a walk she insisted it was, with Lucien. The Valkyries fell silent in the room, waiting for Feyre’s explanation. “Well… I knew someone once that truly was the king of gossip…” Feyre bit her lip and smiled at the memory of her old friend. She tried not to let herself sink into the memory of their last meeting, of the sacrifice her friend made to save her life… Instead, she focused on the good memories. Gwyneth pressed then, waiting for further explanations. “Whom?!” “The Suriel…” Feyre purred, her voice filled with suspense. She straightened her posture, knowing she would need to elaborate more than that to satisfy the Valkyries' curiosity. 

●°●°●°●

Feyre was now rocking Nyx to sleep in the living room. The fire was gently roaring in the hearth, and the peaceful sounds of Nyx's soft snores were enough to fill Feyre's heart with pure content. She spent the whole evening telling about the gossip she heard from the Suriel, and the Valkyries told the stories they and Bryaxis shared too. The two creatures truly were similar, especially in their taste of spilling the tea. Seeing her sister laughing with her wonderful group of friends AND her letting her in… it meant the world to Feyre. This was a moment she would forever cherish. She might even paint the Valkyries reaction when she told them about all of the tea the Suriel had spilled to her… She wanted to immortalize their reaction with colors on a canva. Gwyneth had even screamed that she was about to pee her pants from laughing too much when Feyre kept telling them her stories, which had aggravated the roar of laughter in the room. 

She stood up to carry Nyx to his room and tuck him into the comfort of his crib, hoping that tonight she and Rhys might have a whole night of interrupted sleep. She kissed her son on the forehead and quietly headed out of the nursery. “Ah!” She startled and raised a hand to her chest, sighing in relief when her brain figured out the identity of the man standing into the hallway. She hoped her tiny shriek of surprise didn't wake the little prince up, then whispered to Cassian. “Cass… what are you doing up…” He bit his lip and brushed his hair back, off of his forehead. Lines of worry were forming between his brows as he spoke. “Did you tell Nes about… Um…” He patted the tiny notebook he always had in his pocket, knowing that Feyre knew exactly what he was talking about. Cassian and Feyre told each other everything, Cassian had proudly confessed his little mischief once, on a drunken night. Confessed that he was taking notes off of Nesta's smutty novels.

Feyre shook her head and chuckled, walking away, too tired to deal with the General tonight. Her bed was calling at her urgently, and Rhys mentally made it clear about his intentions about the plans he had for them both tonight in that exact same bed… But Cassian grabbed Feyre softly by the arm, his eyes pleading. “Whom then..?” Feyre shrugged, just wanting to get over with it so she could join her mate in their bed to have some fun before Nyx might wake up. “Bryaxis. Good night now, Cass.” She said as she walked away from Cassian's ghost white figure. 

●°●°●°●

Cassian had been more than sweet to Nesta the following days, especially because of his discovery about Nesta's new… ally. What a traitor his mate was… The news about the Valkyries and Bryaxis’s friendship spread as fast as a breeze of fresh air… Soon enough, they realized how no one seemed to bug them about anything anymore… Not only did Bryaxis manage to offer them the best tea and gossip there was, but indirectly it had brought them a deep respect amongst everyone. Probably because of their fear of Bryaxis spilling their every secret to his lovely friends…

[cowboybrunch]

Felix Wonder Short!

the wizard turned pariah turned magician just won't leave my brain. if you haven't met him yet, check out this excerpt and moodboard (and he also has a playlist)

i might make this a series. little snippets of what Felix was up to before his exile (and maybe during. and maybe... after)

anyways. enjoy 1000ish (unedited) words abt Felix's antics

It was Tuesday again, and he was running. Practiced feet sped over uneven cobblestones, the familiar buildings blurring beside him. He worked to keep his breathing steady, brushing his fingertips against the stone wall to maintain his momentum as he turned the corner. The heavy boots of the Runeguards smacked in an even pace behind him, but he knew these streets better than they did.

At least there weren’t dogs this time. It took him twice as long to lose the scent hounds.

Another corner and he was on a residential street, shooting for the third house from the bend. He’d never been inside; he preferred to meet its occupant at the inn down the road, and only long enough for them to devour each other and then pay their tabs separately.

He sprinted inside and slammed the door shut behind him before the Runeguards made the turn. It was a small mercy that nobody in this town felt the need to lock their doors. The man inside shot from the reading chair he’d been lounging in, startled by the intrusion but not suspicious— not until he caught a glimpse of who crouched beneath his window, only the top of his disheveled black hair visible from the outside.

“Felix,” the man said. Felix didn’t turn. “Amaya was asking about you.”

“Uh huh.” He craned his neck to peek and swallowed a curse, ducking before the patrols could spot him. He was certain he didn’t know anyone named Amaya.

“She said you were supposed to call her.”

Did he say that? It didn’t sound like something he would say. “I will.”

“She said it’s been three weeks.”

“I lost my phone.” Someone began shouting. He risked another look, raising himself just enough to see— 

And met furious violet eyes in a sneering, rough face. He yelped, spinning to press his back to the wall. “Listen, Damien—”

“Dorian.”

“Dorian, right. I’m in a bit of a bind here.”

“What did you do?”

“I’ll explain later.” Dorian really was beautiful if one looked at him for long enough. A lick of his blonde hair escaped the confines of its combing, jutting out just above his left ear. Though it was winter— which came every year despite Felix’s protests— his skin was tanned and glowing with health. And he was strong. Felix was very familiar with his well-sculpted thighs, barely exposed below the hem that was an inch too short to be considered modest. The thought of those muscles tensing in drawn out pleasure made Felix grin. “Perhaps over a drink?”

Dorian crossed his arms. Felix loved his arms. “What about Amaya?”

Amaya. Amaya. He shuffled through his memory for a face and came up with nothing. “Invite her, too. As they say, three’s a round number.”

“Nobody says that.”

“Because they haven’t met me.” A fist pounding on the door made him flinch. “Let’s sort this out first, though.”

Dorian rolled his eyes and jerked his thumb behind him. “The back door leads into the alley behind The Striped Brush.”

Felix scrambled to his feet, pausing beside the man to plant a kiss on his cheek. “You’re a doll, you are. I’ll call you.”

“With what phone?”

“I’ll write you a letter.” Felix was nearly to the door when he added over his shoulder, “Expedited delivery, darling.”

When he finally made it home, the Runeguards were waiting with coin pouches clutched in their fists. They laughed at something his mother said. She laid her hand on one of the guards' arm, ushering them towards the door without realizing that Felix now stood in front of it. Her smile turned sour.

“Thank you,” his mother said, “for all you do. It’s much appreciated.”

Felix moved to the side to allow them to pass. “The Magister’s finest,” he said, earning more than a few scowls. “Excellent work, gentlemen.”

He closed and locked the door behind them, hesitating before turning back to face his mother. Her cheeks were alight with fury, not a new expression and not one that made him flinch anymore. 

“You,” she hissed, “are nearly twenty years old.” Nineteen years and eight months, which she should’ve known given that she was, presumably, present for his birth. “This has gone beyond juvenile delinquency.”

And because Felix was unlucky, Alden appeared at the foot of the stairs at exactly that moment and added, “Incinerating a building is not juvenile by any definition.”

“It was an old building,” Felix said. His twin didn’t share his good humor. They didn’t share much except the set of their nose, the shape of their eyes, the cowlick on the back of their heads, and, unfortunately, a bedroom.

“It was the oldest building!” Alden stepped forward to take his place beside their mother. It’s where he belonged, Felix thought. He’d still have her tit in his mouth if she’d allow it. “Centuries of history, gone. For what? A prank?”

He didn’t intend to burn down the building. “Was it not funny?”

Their mother said, “Your brother is in the running for a council seat. Did you not consider how your transgressions might affect his reputation?”

“Of course! I only ever think of Alden.”

She shook her head and walked away, another motion that didn’t make him flinch. She’d given up on him a long while ago, resigning herself to clean up the messes he dragged inside and ignoring him otherwise.

He was on the cusp of sleep when a whisper came from the bed pressed against the opposite wall: “Which incantation did you use?”

Alden had been silent throughout dinner and while they readied for bed, so the invitation for conversation drew a stunned, “What?”

“I saw the fire. The flames were black.”

“No, they weren’t.” He’d made sure they faded to an explainable orange before the Runeguard arrived.

“They’ll execute you.” The concern nearly sounded genuine. “Dark magic is forbidden for a reason.”

Felix closed his eyes. “You ought to be careful with your tongue,” he murmured, “lest someone steal it.”

Alden didn’t speak again.

everything taglist!

@saturnine-saturneight @gioiaalbanoart @tragedycoded

[fervonian]

— study. xan irelia

tagged by: i stole it like a little rat tagging: anybody who wants to do this!

—  basics.

➤ ⠀⠀⠀is your muse tall / short / average?⠀⠀standing at 5'7', irelia is probably considered a bit taller than average.

➤ ⠀⠀⠀are they okay with their height?⠀⠀while irelia can be self conscious of her image, her height was never something that bothered her. whilst growing up, her growth spurt arrived earlier than it did for her twin brother kye, and she grew to be only a little shorter than zelos. when irelia begun her formal dance training, she grew to be a little conscious of her lanky form, specifically her long legs. nowadays irelia certainly has more things to be preoccupied over instead of something as trivial as her height.

➤ ⠀⠀⠀what's their hair like?⠀⠀ever since she was young, irelia has been taught to take care of her appearance. her role as a dancer has been integral to her identity for a long time. her hair is especially beautiful; black strands like silk that run almost to her waist, the colour remniscent of high grade calligraphy ink. under the sun, it shines faintly blue.

➤ ⠀⠀⠀do they spend a lot of time on their hair / grooming?⠀⠀irelia's hair is quite long now, but she has gone through a few hairstyle changes throughout the years. when irelia was young, her o - ma would often tie it up as to ' see her darling little helper's face better ' as the two spent time together. after the war began, irelia would leave her hair out until one day she cut her hair short. nowadays, she keeps it at an elegant and practical length — occasionally putting it up in a tight bun. irelia takes good care of her personal hygiene, and enjoys taking baths & caring for her hair, washing and brushing it while she hums songs that remind her of home and a life she had lost.

➤ ⠀⠀⠀does your muse care about their appearance / what others think?⠀⠀yes, but not in a way that can lead to overt self consciousness. she is confident in her looks, and graciously accepts compliments she's offered. irelia plays the dual roles of important public figure as well as a performer — meaning double the scrutiny. she still deals with some nerves during public appearances, but she's become quite a convincing actor. the xan irelia that the public sees is a carefully sculpted version of herself, and it takes more than persistence to see behind her walls.

—  preferences.

➤⠀⠀⠀indoors  or  outdoors?⠀⠀indoors. ➤⠀⠀⠀rain  or  sunshine?⠀⠀sunshine. ➤⠀⠀⠀forest  or  beach?⠀⠀forest. ➤⠀⠀⠀precious  metals  or  gems?⠀⠀metals. ➤⠀⠀⠀flowers  or  perfumes?⠀⠀flowers. ➤⠀⠀⠀personality  or  appearance?⠀⠀personality. ➤⠀⠀⠀being  alone  or  being  in  a  crowd?⠀⠀being alone. ➤⠀⠀⠀order  or  anarchy?⠀⠀order. ➤⠀⠀⠀painful  truths  or  white  lies?⠀⠀painful truths. ➤⠀⠀⠀science  or  magic?⠀⠀magic. ➤⠀⠀⠀peace  or  conflict?⠀⠀peace. ➤⠀⠀⠀night  or  day?⠀⠀night. ➤⠀⠀⠀dusk  or  dawn?⠀⠀dawn. ➤⠀⠀⠀warmth  or  cold?⠀⠀warmth. ➤⠀⠀⠀many  acquaintances  or  a  few  close  friends?⠀⠀a few close friends. ➤⠀⠀⠀reading  or  playing  a  game?⠀⠀reading.

—  questionnaire.

➤⠀⠀⠀what  are  some  of  your  muse’s  bad  habits?⠀⠀while she is generally a pretty well - rounded and caring woman, she of course has more than her fair share of baggage and habits from her traumatic past. she is reluctant to open up emotionally, and dislikes asking for help. adding onto that, she is prone to overworking herself as she often takes on more work than she should handle alone. accustomed to bottling up her emotions, she isolates herself out of habit. irelia can fall into periods of melancholy if she doesn't have anything to preoccupy her mind and / or her hands with. she's a stickler for rules & traditions, and can be quite stubborn.

➤⠀⠀⠀has  your  muse  lost  anyone  close  to  them?  how  has  it  affected  them?⠀⠀too many to count. to this day, the loss of her family aches like a phatom limb. irelia has lost many to the war, be it family or friends or lovers. her past is a long, winding tapestry of unanswered questions and what - ifs. but life goes on, and she has been dedicating her every act towards building a testament to her devotion for everybody she has lost.

➤⠀⠀⠀what  are  some  fond  memories  your  muse  has?⠀⠀many of irelia's happy memories are from when her family was alive, crazily enough. ( link, tw for discussion of war & ptsd ) she does have other memories she cherishes. forming a connection with lady karma, who was a great source of comfort. reconnecting with dancing & performing after all the bloodshed was over & being able to share the artform with new students; fresh faces that are shy yet eager to learn, reminding irelia so much of herself as a child & giving her hope for the future.

➤⠀⠀⠀is  it  easy  for  your  muse  to  kill?⠀⠀yes, almost disturbingly so on a purely physical level. irelia is experienced with the mechanisms of taking lives; what angle her palm should be at while manipulating her blades, how far apart her feet need to be in order to keep her balance yet retain the ability to swiftly leap away if called for, the tell - tale sign of nerves in her enemies' eyes as they face the blade mistress of navori, a living tempest of metal is no match for mere men. the war may have hardened her walls, and she tells herself that it must be done... but she still distances herself from the act. when it comes to ionians, she's especially reluctant to resort to violence & will attempt negotiations or subduing them first, but if peaceful means won't work then she will do what must be done.

➤⠀⠀⠀what’s  it  like  when  your  muse  breaks  down?⠀⠀firstly, irelia will very, very rarely break down in public. she's a highly composed figure & while she will still show a glimpse into her psyche every now and then, breakdowns are reserved for when the storm passes and she has the time to process her grief / anger. but when she truly loses her composure, it is not a pretty sight. an example of a breakdown would be her reaction to finally exacting her vengeance on the man who killed her family & destroyed her village, admiral duqal. filled with rage and tempestuous fury, she fell upon the noxian commander as more of a beast than woman — slashing and stabbing him in a far crueler manner than she normally ever would. after her anger passed, it numbed her to everything. it took her a few days to regain her composure.

➤⠀⠀⠀is  your  muse  capable  of  trusting  someone  with  their  life?⠀⠀yes, but tentatively. having fought in multiple battles, it is necessary to rely on the ones she fights alongside, but irelia is generally very independent & frankly is more used to other people trusting her with their lives instead... as much as that thought burdens her to this day.

➤⠀⠀⠀what’s  your  muse  like  when  they’re  in  love?⠀⠀throughout all of irelia's life thus far, to love is to lose — yet she cannot help but open her heart again & again. it's gotten much harder for her to let down her walls, but it has never been hard for irelia to care for others. romantic love is more difficult & takes a sturdy friendship to develop first. but if irelia does fall for somebody, she falls hard. she smiles in their presence, a warm and caring glow shining upon her face. she allocates times in the day to spend solely with them & not have her work distract her. she's always been the protective type, but she will be extra watchful over them in particular. irelia just becomes... happier, and spirits know she deserves it after the life she's lived.

[greenlotusleaf]

i’m the DM.

you and your party make an alliance with a wealthy, influential, witty benefactor, one of the most powerful people on the continent. a goliath, tall and beautiful as though they were sculpted from stone by this world’s equivalent of michelangelo, with an equal level of innate homoeroticism. you immediately begin flirting with them, to the chagrin of your party, but your benefactor seems receptive. for the other members of the party, they remain amicably professional, but even the wizard can tell that they have a definite warmth towards you.

after a particularly successful adventure, saving the city just in time for a solstice celebration, the party deservedly lets loose during the raucous festival. you have a few drinks, and as you go dancing through the whirlwind of bonfires and bright pavilions and smiling, grateful people, you run into your benefactor. they’ve also decided to join the fun, but, with a glitter in their eyes, they mention that, as a half-giant, they always feel like they stick out like a sore thumb in crowds, and ask if you’d mind demonstrating just how stealthy you can be…

unbeknownst to the party, the two of you sneak to some gently-lit, quiet corner, and the scene fades to black in the best way possible.

but while your party does not notice, that doesn’t mean your tryst goes entirely unseen…

a few weeks later.

you and the party are on the road back to town after an adventure that was, for all intents and purposes, successful, but with a few hiccups. you can blame it on some bad rolls, of course, but you’re just feeling a bit off, and your armour feels like it’s not fitting quite right on your slim torso, and… well, there’s an idea brewing in your head that’s making you nervous, that you aren’t ready to share with the party yet.

as you approach the city, an NPC your party knows and trusts comes running up and breathlessly, frantically delivers some terrible news: the benefactor has died. it looks like it was an assassination. the benefactor left behind three things: a power vacuum; a recently-passed law detailing precisely who is eligible to inherit their wealth and position; and a whole gallery of scheming rivals and aristocrats looking to take all that power for themselves.

oh. technically, you soon realise, your benefactor left behind far more than just three things. it’s hard to tell exactly how many things they left behind, but they’re all clearly taking more after the benefactor than you in terms of size, and they’re starting to make it very difficult for you to tread lightly past booby traps, or slip unnoticed through a crowd.

and someone knows you had that night with your benefactor. somehow, your secret got out, and every power-hungry leech in the nation knows that the benefactor has heirs on the way. your normally subtle and covert body betrays you more and more every day, broadcasting to the world that you’re carrying the next generation of leaders.

civil war. the time of security and prosperity your party had with the benefactor disappears seemingly overnight, and it feels like the world is tearing itself apart to stop you and your gestating passengers from seeing the next dawn.

the friendships you’ve forged are more important now than ever— the barbarian guards you fiercely, the druid leads your gravid steps through the wilderness with ease, and the wizard weaves illusions to disguise your soft, rounded form… but each day, your swelling, ponderous belly makes it more difficult to fight, to hide, to run.

what would you like to do?

Hi Jester! I feel bad about keeping this one to myself for so long, and I still don't feel like I have a "proper" response to it, but it's way too good not to share.

You *would* be the DM, though, wouldn't you?

[primeconvoy1]

In action today is the Titanic Creations Gorgo figure set, based on the 1961 kaiju movie Gorgo, which I enjoyed watching on a Saturday afternoon as a kid.

This was a crowdfunded project that met all its goals to get produced, and I believe this is the first time we have gotten an articulated Gorgo in plastic form.

Sidenote: I know the larger figure (Gorgo's mother) in this set was called Ogra in the movie, but I'll be referencing it as Gorgo and the smaller one as Baby Gorgo.

The Gorgo set comes in a deluxe see through display package designed and illustrated by Matt Frank .

I love the presentation with the packaging, including the awesome illustration of the monster on the back. The art also shows a burning city backdrop with some nice art references of Dorkins circus that held the baby captive in the movie

You can also see all the content of the set, since the packaging is clear plastic.

Be mindful that some of the accessories can come loose inside the package. The small jet plane accessories sometimes fell behind the larger figure if the interior plastic clamshell is not closed properly.

The main Gorgo figure was sculpted by @d0pep0pe and does an amazing job representing this kaiju.

Gorgo has ton of nice details including sculpted scales, wrinkled skin, and very crocodile like features going from its head down to the tail.

The face sculpt captures the beast well with its ferocious looking design. I especially like the detailing with the ear fins.

Gorgo stands a little under six inches tall when fully posed.

Titanic Creations suggested the figure had 26 points of articulation, but after fiddling with it, I found 39 points, if you count the 11 segments in the articulated tail. That's a bold amount for a company that is putting out a posable figure like this for the first time. Well done!

Gorgo can get into some decent poses, but the toe articulation isn't that strong to hold up the figure, if you're trying to get Gorgo in more dynamic poses. (Recommend squeezing the the front toes together where it plugs into the rest of the foot to help with a tighter joint.)

Gorgo also come with an alternate head that is the same sculpt as the default head but with brighter red glow-in-the-dark eyes! The feature does work, but the glow effect only lasts for a brief time after placing it in direct light.

I use this head as my default head, as the eyes pop more in my display.

Gorgo is done in a dark green color with beige paint going down to the front of the figure, it's underbelly, and underneath the tail.

She also sports some dark grey washes on the faces as well as the scales on the back of the figure. I really like how this fleshes out those sculpted details!

Gorgo comes with some sweet accessories that were unlocked tiers during the crowdfunding campaign.

First up is the Big Ben clock tower accessory to help recreate the iconic scene the movie.

Big Ben is painted mainly in gold which brings out those sharp lines on the building. The accessory also has some claw mark scratches sculpted into it.

Big Ben also has a break away feature, so the top of the tower can be removed.

The next accessory is the small bell sub, which appears to be painted brown and has a few sculpted details.

Next up are the jets and stand. The set comes with 3 jets sculpted in either soft grey plastic or rubber. The cockpits are painted black, which is a nice detail.

To display the jets, while fighting Gorgo, the jets come with a single round base and three black bendy wires that plug into the base and the bottom of the jets.

This was probably the weakest part of the set, as the wires don't plug into the base well and not much better into the jets.

There's also a bit of balancing act to keep them stable, once you do get them on the stand.

The final accessory is the Baby Gorgo figure, which stands a little under 2 inches. It's a static figure with no articulation. Sculpt is well done with similar paint apps to the larger Gorgo figure, just not as extensive. Even the red eyes turned out great, which is impressive for such a small figure.

Overall, I'm really pleased with this figure, and give kudos to the creative team that worked on this!

I look forward to your next kaiju endeavor!

On to pics, Primers! Will post more pics shortly.

[vixenpen]

Hii welcome back!! I'd like to request a Hawks x Black reader where Hawks and the reader are exercising (in a private gym, so they're the only people there) and they exchange glances in the mirror. When they notice the sudden tension, Hawks approaches the reader and teases her, and things get intimate.

Private Gym Hawks x Black (Fem) Reader

Hawks didn’t know whether he was grateful or annoyed that there were no other people in the agency gym when he walked in.

On one hand; It meant he could he watch your fine ass work out with an unobstructed view. On the other, it meant he couldn’t do so without coming off like a creep. After all, it was much more excusable to make accidental eye contact several times in a room full of people rather than a nearly empty one. 

He really should stop gawking in the doorway and start his routine, but it was impossible when you looked that good in those fitted gym separates.

Your body flexed and bent with power and purpose. The bright gym fit popped against your beautiful deep skin tone. Most immaculate of all were your wings which flexed along with every movement. They had been the feature that had drawn Hawks to you..at least looks wise. The other thing that had drawn him to you was your strength and confidence which was on full display as you did jumping squats with weights in your hands.

It wasn’t the only thing on display, however, and once again; he bit his lip as his eyes wandered to your round, sculpted butt poking out.

Shit!

There he went again.

Your feathers ruffled as you finally picked up on the other presence standing in the doorway. You stilled before turning to face your boss who tore his eyes from your butt so fast they damn near spun to the back of his skull.

“Hawks!” You exclaimed, wiping sweaty tendrils of your kinky hair from your face. “Hey! I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”

“I could say the same.” He replied, forcing himself to relax. “Don’t tell me you had no plans for a Saturday night.”

“Now I could say the same thing.” You shot back with a smile.

“Ahh,” your boss closed the door behind him and headed for a treadmill. “You know I’m married to my work.”

“That makes two of us.” You replied.

“Hey, I’ve seen you do some pretty wild stuff during happy hour.”

“If by wild you mean belting an off-key rendition of Plastic Love and then running to the bathroom to puke up lunch.”

The avian snorted in amusement as he began stretching.

You took the opportunity to watch him. He was young, only a couple years older than you, but he always came off as so self assured. Almost lackadaisical in a way that bordered on arrogant. Which, as much as you hated to admit it, was well earned.

The guy was young, successful, and hot. But you would only admit that last part in the deepest recesses of your mind. Your dark eyes slid over his body. He was lean, but there was a surprising strength to his slight frame. You watched muscles flex and bulk under his skin, and your feathers shimmied a bit. It didn’t help that the black tank top he wore was extremely fitted and his joggers hung on his narrow hips in the same laissez-faire manner as the pants of his hero costume usually did.

In short, your boss was a snack. This was a fact that you tried to ignore every day. It was tougher in some situations than others. Like now when his slim buff build was emphasized in work out gear or when he took off the jacket of his costume to reveal his skin tight body suit.

You sighed, causing Hawks to catch your eye in the mirror for a flash. Guilt wriggled in your gut immediately and you quickly looked away, awkwardly dropping the weights.

You turned and began stretching your arms. Fuck! Had he caught you peeking?

Hawks wasn’t so sure. He almost thought he had caught a glimmer of something in your gaze when he looked at you, but shit, maybe he was projecting.

He couldn’t say he wasn’t enjoying the new view though. He upped the speed on the treadmill as you continued stretching with your back facing him. Against his better judgement, he didn’t look away and when you picked up a jump rope you made it damn near impossible too. Everything jiggled; your tits, your ass. Everything.

This was going to be the hardest two hours of his life…literally.

[coochiequeens]

Say hello to an ancestoress

More than 4,000 years ago, a young woman who died in what is now Scotland was buried in a crouched position within a stone-lined grave. She remained buried for millennia, until excavators at a stone quarry unexpectedly unearthed her bones in 1997.

Little is known about the woman — dubbed Upper Largie Woman after the Upper Largie Quarry — but now, a new bust-like reconstruction reveals how she may have looked during the Early Bronze Age.

The reconstruction, which went on display Sept. 3 at the Kilmartin Museum in Scotland, shows a young woman with dark braided hair who is wearing a deer-skin outfit. And she appears to be looking at someone nearby.

"Making a reconstruction I usually think that we are looking into their world, [meaning] they don't see us," Oscar Nilsson, a forensic artist based in Sweden who crafted the woman's likeness, told Live Science in an email. "I thought it could be an interesting idea to twist this a bit, and actually thinking that she can see us. And as you can see, she looks a bit critical to us (I don't blame her for that...)!"

Upper Largie woman, who died in her 20s, lived during the early Bronze Age of Scotland. (Image credit: Oscar Nilsson)

After the discovery of Upper Largie Woman, a skeletal and dental analysis revealed that she likely died in her 20s and experienced periods of illness or malnutrition. Radiocarbon dating found that she lived between 1500 B.C. and 2200 B.C., during the Early Bronze Age, according to the museum. Meanwhile, a look at different isotopes, or versions of strontium and oxygen from her remains suggested that she grew up locally in Scotland, but the team wasn't able to extract her DNA, so her ethnic heritage, including her skin, eye and hair color, is unknown.

However, archaeologists found sherds of Beaker pottery in her grave, hinting that she was part of the Beaker culture, named for its peoples' bell-shaped beakers. Research suggests that the Beaker culture started in Central Europe with people whose ancestors came from the Eurasian Steppe. Eventually, the Beaker culture reached Britain in about 2400 B.C. DNA evidence indicates that the Beaker culture replaced most of Britain's inhabitants, including the Neolithic communities that had built monuments such as Stonehenge.

"The carbon dating suggests she might be a descendant of the first Beaker newcomers," Sharon Webb, director and curator of Kilmartin Museum, told Live Science in an email.

For the reconstruction of Upper Largie Woman, her skull was CT (computed tomography) scanned and then 3D printed in Scotland. However, "she lacked her mandible [lower jaw], and her left side of the cranium was in a quite fragmented condition," Nilsson said. "So, the first thing I had to do was to rebuild the left side of her cranium. And then to create a mandible, a rather speculative issue of course."

Then, Nilsson took her age, sex, weight and ethnicity into account, as these factors help determine tissue thickness. "So, in this case: a woman, about 20-30 years of age, signs of undernourishment in a period of her life, and a probable origin from the region," he said.

Nilsson pulled from a chart of modern individuals who fit these characteristics, then used their tissue measurements to begin sculpting the reconstruction. Pegs placed on the replica skull helped him measure the tissue depth, which he then covered with plasticine clay as he molded the facial muscles. Based on her skull's contours, he noted that Upper Largie Woman's eyes were wide set and that her nose was broad and "probably a bit turned upwards." She also had a rounded forehead and a broad mouth.

"I found it interesting that once she was reconstructed, I did not see that much of her malnutrition," Nilsson said. "She had a very rounded facial skeleton, which helped her looking a bit more healthy than she may have been."

However, he was clear that "the colors were all qualified guesses, based on other burials from the time and the region, where the DNA was in better shape than this one."

Webb called the reconstruction "absolutely amazing, we wanted her expression to be asking questions of the visitor, wondering who they are, and what their lives were like so that visitors might also ponder her life."

Upper Largie Woman's remains are now "sensitively 'reburied'" in the same position and orientation she was likely buried in 4,000 years ago, Webb said. Visitors can see her reconstruction at the museum's permanent exhibit.

[aeon-arts]

Rarity Redesign!

Pretty similar to canon, however I made her more well-rounded in the arts. While she does still care about fashion, she also loves to sculpt, paint, sketch, and write! Her boutique would probably be clothes but also art up for purchase. She always carries her paints and sketchbook around in case she gets inspired. Still really loves gems but also likes other shiny things.  Was born with only three legs and, when the repair pony who fixed up her leg had to move away, a certain Apple offered to help (and who could resist a tall strong mare with eyes the shade of green apples?) In terms of magic, she is a bit opposite to Twilight. She sees magic as an art form and as such it is reflected in her use of magic.

My mane (heh) change from my previous design is that she goes through a change from hyper femininity to look like other unicorns to her own definition of beauty. What really kicks it off is during their run-in with Starlight’s village when starlight tests them to see if they were serious about staying. She cuts Rarity’s hair to look plain like everyone else’s. At first she’s devastated, but then slowly starts to lean into this new her. She soon learns that being herself was better than being what society told her was beautiful. It shows in her art too when she starts getting more abstract! Then she takes the leap and becomes the punk!rarity from the ep.

IMPORTANT: as I was drafting my mane ideas, I realized the one I came up with was very similar to the Rarity design of @dragonfoxgirl so I just wanted to give a s/o to them for the idea even if the idea was just my subconscious randomly remembering it asdfghgf.

(base)

yes you can draw this design! just @ me to give me credit!

[vexic929]

ooooh okay now I need to tell you more about Eris and Nyx :D

Eris: an Amazonian warrior, several thousand years old. Because the Amazons are traditionally female, you could say they're afab, but they'd have no idea what that meant if you said it. Plus, technically they were sculpted from clay, so both the "female" and "birth" part are a little up-for-grabs there. He's somewhat ethnically ambiguous in that millennia-old way - i.e. they appear vaguely Middle Eastern or North African, since those were cradles of civilization before populations spread. He's built of about average height, and has a well-sculpted fighter's build (mostly lean muscle, a bit more in the shoulders and thighs, and androgynous like a Greek statue). I might make a picrew to capture the vision sometime? idk

She's a fierce warrior who fights with a spear or javelin (a fact that endears him to Harley later on, of course), though is well-rounded and adaptable when it comes to weapons. And they've got one more trick up their sleeve... he can turn into a lion(ess) when needed, though she rarely uses this power as it's draining and draws a lot of attention

After leaving Themyscira, they tend to follow whatever world conflict they want to fight in. This doesn't always place him on the "right" side, but she's usually not on the "wrong" side either. She meets Rick flag while he's in the military, and he saves them from a bomb threat (since Eris isn't quite adjusted to modern military techniques). They continue to look out for each other, until Rick is eventually transferred to his job working the Suicide Squad. Eris follows, finding it more interesting than simply following war now that war has become so widespread and technological, and often jumps in during the missions since he's a bit hardier than the non-metahumans in the mix. They and Rick are essentially inseparable - not quite romantically, it's all a bit nebulous, but they're partners in every other sense.

And then the events of The Suicide Squad (2021) roll around... that'll be interesting >:)

I'll send Nyx in a different ask since this got longer than expected

yessssssssss I love them, he sounds SO cool! I love that she can turn into a lion(ess) that's sick!! I already ship them with Rick lol

can't wait to read about Nyx too!!! <3333