#//going to alternate blogs between the months

[yukyunotabibito]

End of Month Report (March): Beorc Students Are the Excitable Sort Aren't They?

Drabble Series Between Nasir and Kurthnaga, Getting Together Once a Month to Share Information

"Oh, you're already here. Early, I see; aren't we, Your Majesty?" Nasir says with a smidge of laughter directed in the young king's direction. Kurthnaga, with a sigh, sets down the book he had been holding upon the coffee table.

"Yes, well..." Kurthnaga taps the book on the table, "I thought I'd get here early to give you that. I found it while browsing through the library and figure it might amuse you."

Nasir hums softly as he picks up the book and flips through it, examining the worn out pages. The just still barely legible ink, the corners of pages torn away by being folded over again and again. It told a story for certain, but that was probably not what Kurthnaga had meant, "Remember Kurthnaga, we are not here to exchange plesantries, we are here to exchange information. We both only have so much time in the day, and it would not do any good to waste it chatting over trivial topics."

"I know," Kurthnaga laughs out gently, the shimmer of youthful innocence still lingering in his ruby eyes, "Allow me to at least ask you if your trip here was pleasant though."

"It was," Other than the excitable child aboard his ship, but she was far easier to deal with than any raging storm. She could be entertained by simple things like dice and cards, a storm could not be, "I had not had a chance to sail in quite some time, I found the journey enjoyable in that aspect at least."

"Oh, Nasir! You didn't have to stay for so long if you craved an adventure! Goldoa would have been fine, things were settling. I would have been fine," Kurthnaga says as he looks up at him, those same innocent eyes trained solely on a man who was nothing but a dirty traitor at his heart.

"We both know why I did not leave sooner," Nasir sits at the couch across from Kurthnaga with a 'polite' smile directed at his young king, "But back to the topic at hand. I know I have just arrived here, and you have just made the journey back, so it may unwise to meet so soon. Still, do tell me: what have you learned this month Kurthnaga?"

The younger dragon perks up excitedly, "Beorc students get oddly competitive and excited over the idea of fighting each other in a field! For a mock battle though... it was still rather..." Kurthnaga retches quietly to himself, though he is not able to hide his digust at the very idea of the blood of others splattered across the green grass from Nasir's prying eyes.

Nasir does not say anything though, out of respect for the boy.

"And... I am not very good at cooking. I fear I may have made something that counted as a biological weapon. It was very poisonious at the very least." Kurthnaga laughs, but Nasir only stares at him in horror, trying not to choke out of shock. No, that should have been expected. Kurthnaga had been raised in the coddled bosom of Goldoa, had not even set foot outside of it until a mere few years ago. Of course he wouldn't have any common sense when it came to things that royalty weren't expected to have to do. Nasir could only hope that no one at died, at the very least. He would have to ask around. Cover up the evidence if that somehow did happen to be the case.

The older dragon clears his throat, "Well... I have not been here long enough to gather any sufficient information. It will have to wait until next month. But until then... please just focus on your studies, Your Majesty. Don't get into trouble. Do not make me have to write back home to Gareth with bad news."

Cooking lessons. Cooking lessons seemed like a good course of action. Nasir makes a mental note to never let Kurthnaga in a kitchen again, not until he's recieved at least two lessons. Goddess help him if he was going to let Kurthnaga get into trouble so soon after returning.

"It's a start though. I'll see you next month, boy. Behave yourself."

[ithebookhoarder]

Truth or Dare (Anthony Bridgerton x Wife!Reader)

Summary: Married only a few months, you are very much one of the Bridgerton brood - something that often drives your poor husband mad, especially when you happen to be every bit as chaotic and unruly as his siblings... Also known as, you, Benedict and Eloise take a game of ‘truth or dare’ a bit too far. 

A/N: What can I say? It’s well and truly fluff-tober over here on my blog 😅

Warnings: Alcohol, mild smut, swearing, Anthony losing his mind, typical Bridgerton sibling shenanigans 

Masterlist

There weren’t many nights Anthony spent away from your side.

They were few and far between, but that didn’t lessen how irksome you found them when the odd occasion called for him to leave you over night. You didn’t know what it was exactly, but you never truly slept well without your husband there to hold you.

Of course, it had to be one of those nights that you truly found yourself in a spot of mischief. Though, in fairness, it had all started rather innocently.

Un-beknowst to you at the time, it was Benedict that had been first outside on the garden swing, sipping from a stolen bottle of whiskey he’d pilfered from the kitchens. He’d been sat there perhaps ten minutes by himself, staring at the stars and lamenting about some problem or other.

Then Eloise had come along.

As was her habit - you later discovered - she had been swift to follow her brother’s example, sneaking out of the house in her nightgown for a reprieve in the night air… and a cigarette or two. Apparently her second-eldest brother was something of a soft touch when it came to her, not that you could blame him for it. You doted on Eloise too.

Then, finally, completing the eclectic cast of characters, there had been you.

Now, in your defence, you hadn’t intended on going out into the garden that night, but had found no other alternative suitable given the blasted summer heat. It was worse tonight that it had been all week, and without Anthony in bed beside you, you saw little point in enduring with the effort of trying to get any rest.

So, you’d decided to make your way quietly through the house and sit outside a while, and pray for a breeze. You hadn’t, however, expected to find both Bridgerton siblings already sat there, having had a similar idea.

“My, what do we have here? Another night owl?”

It was Benedict who spoke first, smiling warmly at the sight of you appearing out of the darkness. He was quick to rise, offering you his swing as a perch to rest upon, beside Eloise.

You were about to protest that it wasn’t necessary and that you could find somewhere else to sit, but a warning glare from Eloise was enough to silence you.

She was all too eager to pat the seat next to her in invitation, looking remarkably pleased to have another addition to their little party.

“Come. Sit,” she ordered. “We were simply discussing how tedious Lady Tremaine’s luncheon will be tomorrow and how we could possibly avoid the whole thing. Now that you’re here, you can help us plot our escape. Benedict’s only suggestion thus far has been some kind of contagious summer cold.”

“I think I actually said that I would use such an excuse, sister,” Benedict corrected with a teasing grin. “Not that we would share it.”

“Traitor.”

“Hardly. It is every man - or woman - for themselves. Right, Y/N?”

“Alas, I think your mother would be rather suspicious at all three of us suddenly being absent,” you sighed by way of explanation as both their eyes turned to you. “Besides, I only came outside because of this heat, not to join some conspiracy.”

“Hardly,” Eloise chuckled. “We simply had the same idea, but I am rather glad you came to join us. Perhaps we should form some secret kind of club - Bridgertons against boredom?”

“And do what? Constantly find excuses not to attend social events we deem too tedious or odious to be dragged along to?”

“Sounds like a marvellous idea to me.”

“It would, sister dear,” Benedict teased. “You always have a talent for causing chaos and anarchy. You’d suit the cause perfectly, even if we both know our mother would never stand for it. She somehow sees through even our best efforts.”

“In which case, it’s time I take a leaf out of your book, Benedict. After all, you always say social events become far more bearable after a good drink or two,” Eloise smirked, gesturing towards the bottle of whiskey Benedict had been steadily nursing. “Perhaps I should follow my brothers  example and learn to hold a drink, maybe then things will be more fun.”

“Oh no.” Benedict was quick to shut down that idea, holding the bottle possessively to his chest and shaking his head. “No. I am not allowing you to start drinking. Mother would have my head if she caught you, not to mention Anthony would have all ours heads on a platter in no time.”

The thought of it made you laugh. Your husband was hardly a tyrant, even if he’d been known to have a temper but he was easy enough to handle. A few soft words in his ear or a kiss on the cheek and he was putty in your hands, helplessly and completely in love with you. Just as you were in love with him.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of Anthony, Benedict?” you giggled, causing Eloise to join you. “I assure you, he’s more a kitten than a lion and he’d probably prefer you to allow Eloise to sample alcohol here, under your supervision, than when she inevitably decides to rebel and has her first drink later on, in the middle of some public ball…”

The warning was clear and you all knew very likely true. Still, Eloise was beaming in victory as Benedict cursed to himself, muttering about Bridgerton women and the likely death he’d receive should Anthony ever find out he had allowed Eloise to sample whiskey. “Just a few sips, El. I mean it.”

“Oh hush,” she snorted, taking the bottle before he could change his mind. She was quick to throw back her head and down a rather brave mouthful, causing you to laugh even harder as she scrunched her face up in disgust. “Oh! That is revolting.”

“I told you.”

“Now you, Y/N,” Eloise grinned, turning and offering the offending item towards you. “Go on. Join us trouble makers - I won’t say a word about it if you don’t.”

“Oh, for goodness sake… Give me that then,” you sighed, earning a cheer from them both, knowing it was better to simply surrender rather than try and fight their mischievous whims. It only increased as you took an ambitious swig from the bottle, wincing at the acrid burning sensation it left in your throat.

If only Anthony could have seen you. He’d have probably had some kind of seizure - especially as you took another quick swig before handing the bottle back.

“There. Your turn again, brother dearest.”

“My my. You really are quite surprising,” Benedict sniggered, before winking up at you in admiration. “Who knew it? You can hold your drink better than Colin. He seems cursed to choke any time he drinks anything stronger than a brandy.”

“Well, it is your sex that falsely deemed us the weaker,” Eloise quipped. “It’s not our fault you were ignorant.”

“I’d like to remind you I wasn’t part of that decision and you also looked ready to choke a moment ago, El.”

“Doesn’t matter, you’re still one of the enemy,” she giggled, earning another raucous laugh from you. Oh, you loved her. If you’d ever been so blessed to have had a sister, you hoped she’d have been just like her. “Now, it is your turn again, brother.”

“Oh … joy.”

“Else we shall have to have some kind of forfeit.”

“A forfeit?” you scoffed, finding the idea absurd. “Like what?”

“How about… truth or dare?”

Benedict froze. “Oh no. Not again. Pall Mall is one thing but we swore we would never play that game in this family again-“

“But Benedict-“

“What’s truth or dare?”

Your innocent question ceased their bickering instantly. Their eyes widened as they turned to you, a knowing and nervous look passing between them. Somehow, you knew this evening was about to get wildly out of hand.

Sometime later, you’d been fully apprised of the rules of ‘truth or dare’. In fact, you’d been something of a natural at it, even if you knew the copious amounts of whiskey you’d all consumed was more than likely the responsible culprit. Else, you’d probably have known better and snuck back off inside before you could make a fool of yourself.

By the end of the night, Benedict had climbed a tree, confessed to being oddly scared of spiders, and been forced to sing the national anthem in French.

Eloise had also made an admirable effort, despite her obviously lower tolerance for drink. She still permitted Benedict to try and arrange her hair, before daring to steal a sock from Colin’s room whilst he’d slept. Then she’d loosened a leg on a dining chair. (Alas, none of you could remember which one but that somehow made it even funnier - even if it would not be come morning when you were forced to sit at the table for breakfast in some kind of roulette.)

You could only pray you didn’t choose said seat.

You could also only pray neither of your conspirators shared your contributions with your husband. You weren’t exactly sure how Anthony would feel at the fact you gone for a midnight paddle in the pond, nor that you’d mixed up the papers on his desk, all before finishing the night with a final dare that involved stealing several cakes from the kitchens… you still swore Mrs Reynolds would notice, come morning, that there were no longer twelve perfect cakes.

That, and Benedict had somehow knocked flour all over the counter, causing you all to erupt in drunken laughter as you’d bolted back outside.  

Needless to say, you all looked a sorry sight as you lay in the grass together, staring at the approaching dawn. Had you not been so tired, or drunk, you may have suggested retiring back to your rooms before the house awoke shortly.

“Now that… was fun.”

“Fun? That was more than fun. I haven’t laughed like that in ages.”

“Told you it was a good idea.”

You hummed in agreement with your sister in law.

“I can see why you all favoured this game so much,” you sniggered, winking at Eloise as she sat in the grass beside you. “I can also see why you all agreed to stop playing it… I don’t know what Anthony would say if he saw what we’d been up to.”

“Something sensible and disapproving most likely,” Benedict sniggered. “Our brother, and your husband, can be a right prig, no offence.”

“Oh hush. At least I didn’t let my sister dress me up in her petticoat when she was five.”

Benedict’s jaw dropped.

“Who told you about that?” he demanded indignantly.

“I have my sources.”

Benedict’s eyes narrowed as he turned his head to glare at his younger sister. “Well, you can tell your source that she’s going to have to find someone else to fetch her lemonade at the Cowper’s ball tomorrow night unless she apologises. You can also tell her that I’ll accept either a verbal or a written apology as long as it’s suitably abject. And that means very, very abject,” he added darkly.

“Tell me, Benedict, was it a lacy petticoat?”

With a wordless grunt of annoyance, Benedict groaned, but it was hard to hear over the laughter echoing from you and Eloise. You resembled more a pack of hyenas than two noble ladies - you probably looked just as feral after your night of mischief.

And of course, as was always your luck, that was exactly how your husband found you mere seconds later.

How Anthony had arrived without any of you hearing a carriage pulling up to the house at this time of the night - morning? You couldn’t be sure - was a mystery. Yet, there he was, hands on hips and looking thunderous as he stormed towards the three of you with all the fury of an exasperated headmaster.  

“What in God’s name are you all playing at?”

You all froze.

It was as if someone had poured a bucket of ice water over you as your eyes widened, and you all turned to stare sheepishly at him.

“Oh, darling. You’re home?”

“Don’t ‘oh darling’ me,” Anthony sighed, attempting to scold you but without much success. His attempt at seriousness was somewhat undermined by his brother’s heckling, singing ‘here comes mother’ and that ‘someone’s in trouble’. That, and with the way you were lying, he was upside down. “What are you doing up at this god forsaken hour? And why are you … is that flour? And why are you soaking wet?”

“I went for a swim.”

“A - you went for a -“

“And Benedict did my hair,” Eloise interjected suddenly, waving her arms about as she gestured to the tangle of hair upon her head. “Isn’t it marvellous?”

Anthony’s expression very much said that he did not think it was marvellous. Nor did he find any of this vaguely amusing.

In fact, by the way he took a long deep breath, you knew he was doing his best not to lose his temper and wake the entirety of the household. His brow always creased like that when he was faced with dealing with his family, but the expression only made him seem more adorable and handsome to you, rather than authoritative. However, you’d never told him so, knowing it would hardly be deemed a compliment in his eyes.

You also doubted he’d appreciate your usual response right now, which was normally to kiss said brow until it eased back into its relaxed form.

“We were just playing a game to escape the heat, darling,” you soothed. “We couldn’t sleep and all had the same idea to seek refuge outdoors… we simply got carried away passing the time.”

“What game?”

“Pardon?”

“I said, what was the game you were all playing?” Anthony suddenly quipped, the warning clear in his tone. That, and his eyes landed squarely on his two siblings, who at least had the decency to look sheepish… and afraid. “Because there is but one game I can think of that would result in a mess like this one, and I’m confused, because I know for a fact that we banned that game under this roof, and any other roof that houses the Bridgertons.”

No one moved.

No one even breathed.

It was as if you were all too scared to risk answering Anthony, even if the empty bottle of whiskey did most of the talking by itself.

“I don’t recall the name,” you blinked. “Right, Benedict?”

“Oh, uh… we… we were just- Eloise?”

Eloise froze, the guilt written all too clearly on her face for her to even try and salvage the situation - though that could also be down to the whisky she had consumed… it was honestly hard to be sure at this point.

“Well, dear brother,” she began, only to trail off as Anthony lifted his hand.

The silence was instantaneous. 

No one dared to say another word, let alone move. 

You’d never seen Eloise or Benedict so still in your entire life. Hell, you weren’t even sure they were breathing - probably out of fear Anthony would decide to inform their mother about their mischievous exploits. 

If Anthony Bridgerton was scary when vexed, then Violet Bridgerton was a nightmare brought to life in human form. After all, as the matriarch of a family of eight children, she had learned a long time ago how to keep her unruly children in line - a harrowing experience you had only had occasion to witness once or twice since your marriage into the Bridgerton family. Once had been when Colin and Gregory had broken a priceless vase when racing around the house, despite being explicitly banned from doing so. The other had been when she had caught Eloise and Benedict smoking outside on the terrace one night. 

It was easy to say where your husband had inherited it from. 

“Not. Another. Word,” your husband growled, bending down and sweeping you up into his arms in a move that made you squeal in surprise. “Right now, I am taking my wife to bed and I suggest you two do the same - after you clean up your mess. I’ll deal with the lot of you in the morning.” 

A laugh escaped you as you tried not to look like you were enjoying the sudden turn of events too much. After all, you doubted he’d be too happy once you were more sober and he discovered the true extent of your nightly activities. 

It was why you were only too happy to let him put you to bed, grumbling all the while about letting his siblings run wild. He really was most handsome when he was flushed - a fact you were reminded of as he hastily changed for bed, flashing you a tempting glimpse of his bare torso in the process. 

You could tell without asking he was tired from his journey home, as well as fighting the urge to rip his hair out over the chaos he had found upon his return. 

Thankfully, his need to be in your arms outweighed the need to scold you over letting yourself be drawn into his siblings’ schemes. All it took was you pulling him down onto the mattress, and climbing into his lap to turn him into a needy, lovestruck puddle. 

You’d equally missed having him in your arms, but you’d be lying if you said that your sudden forwardness wasn't also due to a mixture of the whiskey you’d drunk, and the residual giddiness from a night of mischief. A confidence radiated from you as you began to run your hands over his bare chest, taking care to graze the areas you knew made him groan. 

“You’re lucky I love you so much,” he teased breathlessly, visibly unable to refuse your advances. 

“Is that so?”

Anthony chuckled, nodding as he surged his lips towards yours. “Yes, so come here, my delinquent drunken wife, and let me kiss you before you and those doe-eyes of yours drive me insane. Now.”

Your laughter and surrender was immediate. “As you wish.” 

Alas, for poor Anthony, that was not the end of the ordeal. 

In fact, it was the next morning as you made your way into breakfast that you faced the final consequences of your delinquency. 

Despite wishing to remain abed for the entire day, you’d been granted no such reprieve as your maid had entered your room at the usual appointed time and proceeded to open the curtains with no regard for the fact that you had slept a mere handful of hours. Whereas you would normally greet the day with a reluctant smile, you were in no state to manage much more than a groan as you were harshly ripped from your slumber.

If you had somehow not yet come to the conclusion that last night had been a bad idea, then the sudden flare of pain in your head at the bright intrusion was all the proof you needed. That, and the sudden churning in your stomach. 

You would never let Benedict or Eloise coax you into drinking with them again. 

You had not realised, despite how the idiom went, that what went up was sure to come down again - and you had come crashing down. 

Hard.

“If you’re ready to dress, my lady, then breakfast will be served shortly,” your maid chirped, a dress already picked out for you to wear. She either couldn't detect your fragile state, or didn't seem to care as she continued speaking at a painfully loud volume. “My Lord sent me to wake you as he is finishing business in the study. He was up frightfully early, I could scarce believe it went the housemaids told me they’d already found him awake when they went to start the fires this morning. Gave young Samantha a right fright he did, scribbling away at his desk.” 

“Oh?” you croaked. 

You hadn’t even noticed the empty space in the bed bedside you until then. 

Clearly Anthony had risen early, if he’d even gone to sleep at all. Why were you not surprised? Your husband was perpetually in motion, always claiming there was something or someone that needed his urgent attention as the head of the Bridgerton clan. It was just one of the things that made you love him so much.

“Is he still there?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” the young girl continued, breezing about your room. “And that’s not the only strange incident this morning. It will tickle you rotten when I tell you the latest drama, but you see, Mrs Reynolds was ranting and raving about how she swore she had made three trays of fruit tarts last night, yet this morning, there were only two. The youngest kitchen maid, Betsy, is convinced it must be a ghost but my money is on Carter - the groom’s boy - he’s always snooping about the kitchen...” 

You winced. Ah. Maybe you hadn't been as stealthy last night as you’d hoped after all...

With as much enthusiasm as you could muster, you began to peel yourself from the mattress, trying to appear as if you were listening to your maid’s theories as she dressed you for the day. It then took all your resolve to make it downstairs and to the breakfast table without tripping over your own feet, or emptying the non-existent contents of your stomach. 

To your relief, only Eloise and Benedict had so far taken a seat at the breakfast table - and both looked about as miserable as you felt.  

“Good morning,” you mumbled, taking your usual chair next to the head of the table. You were quick to accept the steaming cup of coffee Benedict handed you, shooting him a thankful look. “Dare I ask how we feel?” 

“I think better than you and my dear sister here,” Benedict chirped, gesturing at a miserable looking Eloise. She had her head in her hands and was desperately trying to look at the plate of food in front of her with something other than repulsion. “Then again, I must admit I am somewhat more experienced in the art of late-night mischief than you both. I also did not have to deal with my brother before going to bed - thank you, again, for that noble sacrifice.”

“Your welcome,” you chuckled, a faint heat rising in your cheeks as you remembered the exact events after you and Anthony had gone to bed. “I just feel bad that you both got left to clean up the mess.” 

“Don’t be. I think we got it all.”

“You say that but I can’t remember anything after you started singing in French,” Eloise groaned, massaging her forehead once more. “I have the oddest feeling we may have forgotten something.”

You paused. You could only hope for your sake she was wrong. 

However, you were saved from such discussion by the arrival of the rest of the Bridgerton bunch. All conversation about your night-time escapades were quickly forgotten as Colin, Hyacinth and Gregory entered the room, bickering about something you couldn’t quite make out. They were swiftly followed by Violet and Francesca, who both looked unfairly cheerful for so early in the morning. 

You could only wish to look so fresh and composed before your first cup of whatever caffeinated beverage you could get your hands on. 

Then, finally, came your husband. Entering the room last, he turned and shot you a warm smile. Clearly, your shenanigans had been forgotten - for now - replaced instead by the memory of your other activities, much to the relief of you and your co-conspirators. 

In fact, you swore you saw Eloise exhale a breath of relief when Anthony didn't immediately launch into one of his lectures. Instead, he chose to join the rest of his family in helping himself to the awaiting breakfast spread, laid out on the sideboard for them, listening to some ongoing debate between his mother and youngest brother. 

“-but you said we could visit the park this afternoon.”

“I know, sweetheart, but I have to take Francesca and Eloise for their final fittings at the modiste. We shouldn’t be too long, and we can go after? Unless, perhaps your brothers will take you. Colin? Benedict? Anthony?”

Benedict looked physically pained at the idea of an afternoon at the park, what with his current delicate constitution and all. You honestly couldn't blame him. “Well, I uh - have a drawing class, this afternoon. Very last minute. Sorry.” 

“And I... um, have a meeting at the club?” Colin stammered hastily. “Anthony?” 

“Please, Anthony?” Gregory begged, all but pouting at his older brother as the pair made their way to the table. “I promise I’ll do all my lessons this week without complaining if you say yes. I’ll even let you have my pudding tonight.”

“As you asked so nicely, brother, I don’t see how an hour or so at the park could do any harm -” Anthony began, pulling out the chair next to you and lowering himself onto the seat in a moment that felt like it lasted forever as a horrifying sensation swept over you. 

You remembered what you’d forgotten. 

The chair.

“Anthony, wait-!”

The sudden crash was startling, as was the sight of your husband being sent flying backwards as the chair collapsed beneath him. 

No one moved. 

No one said a word. 

Benedict looked across at you and Eloise, the horror clear in his eyes as he choked the word you felt on the tip of your tongue: “Run!”

[verstarppen]

summary; slowly but surely that fake dating plan you cooked up starts leaving its confined lines

pairing; mick schumacher x fem!reader [ no faceclaim ]

a/n; babe wake up star finally made a mick smau this demands a national celebration; title is count me in by they. because i was listening to it when this story idea appeared between my brain folds TW for mention of food poisoning and hospitals (comedic purposes) but if you're in a place where this might make you uncomfortable i strongly suggest you avoid this post and i'll see you for the lando series update tomorrow, take care

liked by georgerussell63, lewishamilton, mickschumacher and 295,953 others

ynusername favourite necklace

view all 63,029 comments

georgerussell63 I so desperately wish my ability to read would disappear.

ynusername you got us in this mess now suffer the consequences georgerussell63 I didn't do shit, it's entirely on your shoulders.

mickschumacher why aren't you holding them

ynusername no hand holding before marriage please

houseofwebber if they ever break up you'll see me on the news actually

eastcoastbearman babe wake up micky/n are alive

lewishamilton Embarrassing.

ynusername just like this comment

liked by georgerussell63, logansargeant, mickschumacher and 590,201 others

ynusername took the dog out for a walk

view all 20,356 comments

rothgothgasly stop calling me single in 29 different languages

albonite PARENTS ARE PARENTING

julyestie maman and papa

filipe3596 Hi God it's me again

setbackhamilttel mick the type of guy to say "i don't argue with my girl she tells me to shut up and i do"

ynusername it's true mickschumacher yeah setbackhamilttel THE LEGENDS REPLY!?

liked by estebanocon, totowolff, ynusername and 890,294 others

mickschumacher visiting my favorite corpse

view all 191,999 comments

ynusername EXCUSE YOU I CAN EAT SOLID FOODS NOW

mickschumacher i did that on day 4 get good ynusername sorry that my guts aren't as cool as yours mickschumacher let me rearrange them, then ynusername that was smoother than my throw up

mclandolorian HE ESCAPED

baconforza weren't you also a corpse like 2 days ago

armstrongslayer ARE THE RUMOURS ABOUT THE FAKE DATING TRUE

ynusername anything to piss george off

liked by mickschumacher, lewishamilton, georgerussell63 and 201,506 others

ynusername if a doctor sees this for legal reason these are old pictures :)

view all 80,577 comments

lewishamilton And to think this all could've happened sooner had you people had the balls to say what should've been said.

ynlantern just like a bowl of cereal that's been collecting dust for an hour, it's still delicious in the end innit lewishamilton All's well that ends well, I guess.

vertiddieenjoyer the only people on earth that can go on a first date after 12 months of dating

nandogoat ao3 friends to lovers, fake dating, only one bed, 294k words, alternative universe - europe, no beta we die like mick's career in haas

osc_pastry i don't think they realize how funny this is to watch from the sidelines

pic credits: instagram and pinterest

blog taglist: @coffeehurricanes @iifloweringnightsii @jsjcue @lanando4 @fastcarsandshit @christianpulisic10 (hi besties hope you're having a lovely evening and you aren't also crying about the qatar quali)

[moondirti]

Your ghostsoap x preg!reader!!??? I'm in love I need more of this. You have more thoughts for that universe? I just fell in love with your writing.

Let me camp in this corner of your blog, I'm friendly and don't bite (⁠~⁠￣⁠³⁠￣⁠)⁠~

they're all i've been able to think about all day. of course i have more to say <3 if you're curious, anon is referring to this, which should be read before this part.

tags: DARK FIC. manipulation. vehicle tampering. planned abduction. pregnant fem!reader. established ghostsoap – who are not the fathers but would definitely like to be. mentions of somnophilia

Delusional as they might be, it's hard to justify something as egregious as blunt-force kidnapping. Though it briefly occurs to Simon – to pluck you from the parking lot and drive off the hour after they decide to keep you – the logistics don't iron out. Of chief concern, you're six months pregnant. What they'd typically use for POW's thus become's inconsiderable for you; Johnny's the wiz, but even he knows the effects chloroform can have on a foetus. The alternative isn't any better, either – his partner just balks at the idea of tying you up and throwing you in the trunk. (She'll never git ower it, Si. Dae ye want her tae hate us?)

So, things unfold in a far subtler manner.

They go home that night they first meet you. Can't coordinate without resting on it, they rationalise, without scoping their place to assure it's suitable for their soon-to-be-mother. They tuck away the knives laying on random countertops, air out the quilts gifted to them by Johnny's ma in an attempt to make their room cozier. And when they sleep, they dream of you tucked in between them, knocked out, sex-drunk. Dressed in nothing but a shirt, cunt bared for either of them to toy with throughout the night.

Hours upon hours later, well into noon the next day, Simon wakes to find his boy rutting into his thigh, still somewhat comatose, and sneaks a rough hand into his boxers to tug the tension out of the poor thing. They only get up as the fissures of dusk begin to spread across the sky, loading their car with a toolbox and making the drive back to The Dahlia, staking out in the parking lot as they wait for you to arrive for your shift.

(Johnny had deployed the old charm as you brought out their food in two baggies last night, disguising the trap with a lilting laugh as he audibly wondered why you picked up such a late shift.

You’d only shrugged and said you preferred to work nights.)

Sure enough, you pull up in a beat-up Kia at 2200, fussing with your bag as you stumble to the back entrance of the roadhouse.

"Forgot to lock it." He mutters, following your form until it disappears from view. Johnny only frowns, tightening his fingers over his thumb. A little nervous tick.

"Should we be doin' this?"

"And what is this?" Simon turns to appraise the scotsman, larger hand enveloping his, calloused fingertips smoothing over scarred knuckles. "Y'think they'd be kinder to 'er? The type of scum we know grace this earth? It's a wonder she made i' this far, Johnny."

He isn't convinced.

"Look a' me." Blue eyes widen to meet his, dark as their owner battles intuitions that have always been straighter than the Ghosts'. "Wanna give 'er a good life, yeah?"

"Aye. The best."

"Would she be so convinced?" But he knows the answer. They both saw the way you withdrew after being hit on, losing the effusiveness you initially greeted them with. Avoidant. Classic case of hyper-competency, perhaps the very reason you put up with such shitty circumstances to begin with. A stubborn knot they'll have to undo themselves.

And Johnny likes the challenge.

"Lass's got something tae prove." Moments pass in silence. Then: "Ah’ll get th' wire."

"Atta' boy."

They only enter the establishment an hour before the end of your shift. It’s 0600 and space is sleepy. At a point that had escaped their notice, someone had made the choice to shut the overhead fluorescents, and so all that functions to illuminate the dinette is the pale dawn outside. Johnny finds he prefers it like this, grumbling a tired endorsement, before branching off in search of the bathroom, hand rubbing the sore column of his throat.

The softening mass in his pants jumps once Simon catches sight of you, balancing two trays in one hand as you wipe down the serving hatch. He doesn’t need to say anything. You catch the dark blur of him in the corner of your eye, shuffling into a booth, where he occupies an entire side with the mere spread of his legs.

“Hello again. Just you today?” You’re twirling your pen, cradling your belly, and he notes the perpetual shadow cast under your eyes. Poor pet.

He shakes his head, then cocks it toward the loo. “Think he’ll have a go at the toastie today.”

“Good choice. Hard to fuck up.” You give him a tired smile. “And for you?”

“M’good.”

“You sure? Look like you’ve been on the road again, and-" You pause, the water of your eyes rippling as you appraise his mask. Something seems to click just then, because you nod and tuck your notepad away. “I’ll ask again at the end. Maybe you’ll want something to-go.”

In the end, they do take something to go.

Not as greasy as the toastie Johnny spends the hour tearing into, glossing the pads of his fingers with oil. Nor as sour as the coffee he sipped on last night, burnt and way past freshness, just like you’d warned them about. But a much, much sweeter keepsake. Something that’ll sate them for much longer.

You’ve already clocked out once they leave The Dahlia, faces grim but as innocent as they can possibly muster. Sure enough, you’re out standing by your car, wiping tears with the back of your hand. They’re close enough that they can catch snippets of your conversation on the phone (No, I don’t– and It is old but never–).

They wait until you grow desperate, hiccuping – Don’t have that kind of money. Please – before intervening.

“Hey. What’s the matter, hen?” Johnny approaches first, concern no faux thing, smoothing a hand down your arm. What Simon said earlier comes back around (Wanna give 'er a good life?) and his chest tightens at the sheer despair he sees etched across your face. You shouldn’t be this stressed about anything this far along, should have someone taking care of you.

He, they, can be that for you. Could give you everything you ask for and more.

“M-my car. I-I don’t– I don’t know what’s wr-wrong with it, and–”

“Shhh, issalright. Not starting, eh?”

“No. And I have to- to get home before… before–”

Simon steps in, crowding you against the side of your car. You don’t have it in you to look for the red flags; the glances they throw one another, the subtle crinkle in the masked one’s eyes as he smiles. No, you don’t– can’t consider it dangerous. Not when these two wonderfully kind men, who tipped you 100% of their bill both times they came in, are one of your only means of getting help.

“Where do you live? We’ll drive ya if it’s on our way.” A lie. They’ll drive you regardless, and you won’t be taken home.

“Oh- no. That’s okay, really. I’ll just a-ask my boss if I can get a sub on my pay, and–”

Johnny smooths a finger across your cheek.

“Nonsense, hen. It’ll be a skoosh.”

next part

[yandere-daydreams]

hi. so this is kind of a random musing that doesn't have anything to do with what youve been talking abt on your blog recently so feel free to ignore it, but i love how you write yandere nanami and between going live and an ask one of my followers sent me i kinda had a revelation. i wanted to see if you had any thoughts.

i think that before meeting reader nanami would be a virgin.

even if were talking non yandere nanami, i don't think he's ever had sex. i can't see nanami being the kind of person who likes hookup culture - he doesn't want to be used by someone - but i don't think he'd be able to justify getting in a romantic relationship because his job is so dangerous. he wouldn't want to die one day and leave his partner widowed. so he stays celibate, he's come to terms with the fact that he'll die untouched.

(he just jerks himself to freaky ass porn to get his fix (maybe even a camgirl hehe))

at least, until he meets a woman who makes all of his morality fly out the window.

suddenly, his sex drive is higher then ever. he's cumming into his fist every night to the thought of this special girl doing abhorrent things on his dick. he loves her. he's never loved someone this much in his entire life so she has to be the one to deflower him. that's probably one of the most romantic things someone can do in his mind, so it has to be her. she's his soulmate

all of this to say, i think nanami would kidnap reader and force her to teach him how to have sex through some fucked up means. it just tickles something in me imagining how stupidly giddy he'd be, so unabashedly pathetic as he undresses a woman for the first time.

like, him holding her hand with his forehead pressed to hers, cumming inside of her, jumping through as many mental hurdles necessary to justify what he's doing (or maybe just not caring bc she'll come around eventually, right?)

i love your work. thank you for listening to my ramble. <3

tw - non/con, kidnapping, manipulation, delusional behavior.

no no no i agree entirely,,, no amount of propaganda can convince me that any of the jjk men every had their dicks touched before the age of twenty-five at least, with nanami probably being the worst offender among them. i mean, he doesn't really connect with people outside of the sorcerer world, not really, not in a meaningful enough way to lead to that kind of intimacy, and as for other sorcerers... no. just no. he'd rather die a virgin than resort to anything as desperate as that, which is quickly becoming a very tangible reality.

and then he meets you (or, alternative, stumbled onto your stream at some ungodly hour, his cock already in his hand and his pleasure-deprived brain frantic for something soft and pliable to latch onto), and he decides that it might not be so bad to consider alternatives after all.

i can see it going one of two ways: if he has any reason at all to believe that you're also a virgin, whether or not it's true, he'll immediately lose all patience. if that wasn't the case, he might be able to take his time, stalk you for a few months before consummating your blooming relationship, but now he's on a clock, now he has to get to you before someone else does. he still tries to make it romantic, lights candles and brings you flowers and all that, but he's rushed, panicked, babbling incoherently about 'being each other's firsts' as he haphazardly undresses you. it's a miracle he remembers to do any prep at all - he's just in such a rush to be inside of you, to be the first and only person to every know what it's like to fully, genuinely actually be with you. if there's any pain, he'll comfort you later, make up for two and a half decades of abstinence with his tongue and hands, but only after he's already ruined you for anyone else.

if you're not a virgin and he can't make himself believe you are, then he'd probably go a little less absolutely feral (at first, i mean). don't get me wrong, you're still getting kidnapped asap, but rather than a beacon of innocence and purity that he can taint, you're the corruption forcing him to fall from grace, and he's going to want you to act like it. he's got a list of virginities he needs to to take (his first handjob, his fist blowjob, the first hickey, etc.), and between every milestone, he's going to want you to teach him how to pleasure you, even if you're still insisting you'd rather not let him touch you at all. he wants your full participation - it doesn't matter how many times he makes you cum on his tongue while you're sobbing into your pillow and trying to block him out, he's not going to stop until he hears your sweet voice encouraging with the little 'right there, kento's and 'good boy's he's made you rehearse. by the time you actually take his virginity, he's going to have made you feel dirtier than you ever could've made him feel, but so long as he's the one you're feeling dirty with, nanami doesn't really mind. not when he's buried inside you, his chest pressed into yours and he's too lost in his own pleasure to think the tears staining your cheeks are anything but beautiful.

anyway loser virgin nanami you will live forever. perhaps loser virgin gojo will pay for his crimes next.

[sindar-princeling]

LOTR Newsletter 3 Shire Drift - FAQ

Hello everyone!

Just like last year: for those of you who are already familiar with The Lord of the Rings Newsletter, this serves as an announcement that I'm doing it again; and for those who aren't - an introduction to the project :)

What is LOTR Newsletter?

I'm one of the people who subscribed to Dracula Daily in May 2022, and immediately thought, "Hey, I can do this too but with XYZ!" - XYZ being The Lord of the Rings. Because the events of LOTR also have specific dates ascribed to them, we're gonna be reading LOTR as it happened.

When does it take place?

Because of the way the beginning of LOTR is structured (read: because I don't want to leave six-month-long breaks between the first entries), we're gonna start on September 15th - a week before September 22nd, when the main events start to take place. It's also the publishing date of the Silmarillion, but that's just a fun fact for my own enjoyment.

From September 15th to September 19th, we'll read the prologue, and the fragments preceding Frodo's departure from the Shire. From September 20th, we'll be reading according to the dates in the book until April 8th. Then we'll be reading last parts of the book - which are stretched over a long time - once a week, to once again avoid lengthy breaks in delivery.

The Newsletter will last from September 15th to May 26th.

Where do I go if I want to post/talk about something related to the Newsletter with other readers?

We discuss current (and not only current) entries in the #lotr newsletter tag, and we have a Discord server set by the amazing @k-she-rambles! (I really hope this time I managed to generate a link that never expires...)

How do I subscribe?

Since the original platform I was using (TinyLetter) was shut down halfway through the second year of the newsletter, I had to figure out an alternative way to execute this project.

For the lovely people who joined the last edition of the newsletter, just a short announcement - I weighed all the pros and cons and decided to continue carrying out the newsletter the way I did after TinyLetter shut down.

For the new folks, a lengthier explanation: check out this post if you want to learn the details, but long story short: I can't send the newsletter as e-mails anymore, so instead I decided to provide you with a ready copy of the entire thing. I prepared formatted copies of the whole newsletter - September 15th to May 26th - as an .odt file, as a .pdf file, and most importantly as an .epub file, because I assume most of you are reading on your phones (if you don't already have an .epub reader, I use FBReader, and everything worked fine on my phone). At the beginning you'll find the whole table of contents with hyperlinks, so the navigation inside the document should be easy!

The MEGA folder can be accessed right here, and it's available for everyone!

In the folder linked, you'll also find a calendar file made by @none-ofthisnonsense that you can download on your phone and import into your calendar app so that all days when we read are marked in your calendar!

If you want to receive notifications about when there is an entry to read, you can also follow @is-today-a-lotr-newsletter-day and turn on notifications! This is a blog created solely for notifying you all when we're reading a new fragment of the newsletter, so all notifications you'll get will be about new entries, and nothing more. The notifications are meant to be the equivalent of sending e-mails.

Anything else I should know?

Please don't rat me out to Tolkien Estate/j, and have fun reading!

(And as a PS.: Thank you very much if you join - or join again! Last year was very tumultuous because of all the changes in the format, and I know the new way is not for everyone - but introducing more changes again felt like once more creating new chaos, so I decided to stick to a solution that mostly worked. I hope you understand!)

See you on September 15th!

[ironstrange1991]

The Goatee Problem

Pairing: Doctor!Strange x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 0,600k

Warnings: None, just fluff.

A/N: This is just a small blurb I came up with instead of finishing my Defender smut. Didn't want to end the month with nothing so I am posting this. Hope you guys like it and have a short but very nice reading.

"Believe me, you don't want to see this"

Stephen's voice sounded a bit shaky and nervous and his insistence that you do not go into the bathroom had you worried.

"Stephen, just tell me what happened. Are you hurt?"

You tried again to open the door and this time he didn't try to stop you from entering.

He was standing by the sink, but he turned his face so you couldn't see him in the mirror's reflection. You walked over hugging him from behind and he sighed "My hands... are shaking more than usual today... I shouldn't have tried..."

He turned to you, his face still smeared with shaving foam, but the goatee you were so used to was gone. "I had no alternative but..."

"Oh..." Was all you managed to say before bursting out laughing. Stephen frowned slightly offended.

"That's why I didn't want you to see me like this" He said pulling the towel from his shoulder and wiping his face.

He was gorgeous. Of course it was weird to see him without the goatee, but he was still handsome without it.

"I am not laughing at how you look, but at all the drama you are making."

You caressed his strangely smooth face, your index finger tracing around his lips and down to his chin. Stephen's skin was extremely soft.

"I've had my goatee for years, I don't even recognize myself without it."

You nodded, still distracted by how much the sight of Stephen in that different way was messing with you. "Well, I can't complain, you're still as hot as ever"

His face flushed with your compliment which made the whole situation even cuter. You pulled him to your lips and the feel of his smooth skin was different and interesting at the same time. He seemed taken aback by the intensity of your kiss and he was the one who broke the kiss to breathe.

"Don't get me wrong, Steph. I want the goatee back and you're going to have to put up with Wong and America's jokes for a month, but it's not all bad"

He didn't seem to understand where there could be a bright side to that tragedy and you made sure to make that clear when you kissed him again and continued to kiss the corner of his lips, running your lips up his cheeks  until you reached his ear and licked his earlobe with the tip of your tongue before whispering "I'm sure it will feel very interesting between my legs"

He glanced at you completely intrigued as you pulled away and walked towards the bedroom.

"Did you like it then?" He asked still unsure.

You chuckled "Yes I did. Besides I'm sure in another universe there must be a version of you without the goatee."

He took a good look in the mirror and shook his head as if trying to encourage himself. "You're right, it isn't so bad."

"Don't get too excited tiger, I want my goatee back as soon as possible or you'll be sleeping on the couch." You warned.

“How do I face Wong and America now?” He asked, his voice sounding completely mortified “Shit, can’t let Stark see me like this.”

“Good lucky with that.” You said laughing while leaving the room.

Reblog please! Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing!

BACK TO DOCTOR STRANGE MASTERLIST

BACK TO MAIN MASTERLIST

Tag list: @doctorstrangelovemusic-blog @rachelessfreedom-world @ppatricia34me @strangesgirls @dreamxonxx @benaddictcumberpatch @iamsherlocked1479 @veryladyqueen @notglucose @wickedscribbles @agathassscribbles @rmoonstoner @nicoletk @azu21 @captaincarmel416 @harlekin6 @coffedraven @withalittlehoney

@dontmindme262 @dementeddoll @yourmajesty13 @strangeions @bloodyflowerrr @insanelyobsessedwithdilfs @dragonqueen89 @newtsniffles @whiskeyho @xourownsidee @kakashibabe02 @hobimysolecito @geeky-politics-46 @lykaonimagines @d0ct0rstrangewife @classickook @iobsessoverfictionalmen @bobateadaydreams @aphroditesdilemma @sassenach-on-the-rocks

@thealleydog @anadlockfan @pinkthick @loverofallbroken @butchers-girl @ironstrangeheart @asgards-princess-of-mischief @slytherinqueen4life @spideybv28 @pxanonymous16-blog @kinavet

[idesofrevolution]

Never Sleep with Your Phone On

Throughout recorded history, humans have been terrified of the dark. They created stories of sordid creatures of the night that would creep out from beneath your bed and drag you to some subterranean lair to languish in your final moments; or slither out of your mirror if you left it uncovered when your lights were extinguished to steal your soul from your snoring lips. The tales and cryptids across all cultures were all effective in terrifying their communities once the sun set on the horizon. Though that is not necessarily to say that every tale was crafted from pure imagination.

When technology bloomed, humans believed that the horrifying superstitions of yore were long behind them. They had evolved past the primitive fears of what lurks in the shadows, where in reality they had become complacent, arrogant, and lulled. Certainly some of the eldritch creatures had subsided, as all creatures do eventually. Though for every dead legend, a new myth sprouts, and each of those grew and evolved right there along with us. Which, of course, brings us to Asher.

Asher West was, by all accounts, a fairly normal guy. Graduated from high school, going straight into college on a modest academic scholarship. He played frisbee golf with his friends on the weekends, studied hard from 9 to 5, and was seldom seen without a cup of Starbucks in the mornings. He had a sizeable social media following, as was expected for someone with a traditionally handsome visage and adequately charismatic personality. Every day he'd happily post a quick selfie, posting for his thousands of admirers a run of the mill shirtless pic, often without so much as a filter. It'd almost become muscle memory for him: tap the camera icon, snap the pic, post with some benign emojis as the caption, and boom. 900 likes as the day meandered on. Did it provide him with a momentary burst of endorphins? Yes. Was it satisfying? Somewhat, at least he thought so. Years of his staggeringly average life had been all but usurped by this second life online, where he was glamorous, exciting, and adored.

It was so much easier to live in that fantasyland than to truly be present in the real world around him. He, as many of us are, was living his life as someone else- and a life that spectacled easily caught attention. It was easy to come across him in the sea of countless names and faces. It was easy to stumble upon that pretty face. It was easy find, attracting more than just starry eyed fans. Skulking in the void between lines of 1 and 0, buried deep in the infinite cosmic vacuum of the world electric and technological, another pair of eyes would befall him.

It had slinked into his vast sphere rather quickly, and it had begun to watch. Watching each and every 'tasteful' selfie, every vapid thought that he'd post, and every like and pin he'd make, it watched him with empty, expressionless black eyes from within a fragment of his phone's memory. It studied him, curious at first. Things of its nature were always curious, always inclined to watch and analyze and replicate. Even as he slept, his phone siphoning it's charge from it's cable, it would read. The more it saw, the more it had learned about Asher. In fact, it knew more of Asher than perhaps he himself was aware of, if not able to admit.

It had seen those intimate moments he'd taken careful measure to hide from the vast majority of those watching eyes. Second accounts under pseudonyms, gave way to countless of hidden alternate lives he lived: Tumblr blogs dedicated to bad-boy thrist traps and queer erotica, Twitter accounts cataloguing pictures and videos of his closest kept kinks, a well used and well loved Chaturbate account with his face tastefully cropped out of frame... all these lives immortalized in the endless archives of the internet. And after all it's patient watching, all the hours of analyzing, all the months of consuming his information, it had grown an attachment.

Asher had come home late one night. Not unusual for him, as the occasional party wouldn't derail his real life ambitions. After a few libations, and no small amount of cannabis, he'd made his way back home to his small apartment above the corner store. Just as he'd done numerous times before, he stripped himself of his shirt, pulling his camera from his jeans pocket, and snapped a slightly inebriated picture of himself. It'd be enough to boost his ego the next morning, enough to power through the long haul of his draining daily agenda.

SNAP. The flash of the camera went off, and his beloved face was shared for all to see. Though, that night, he mis stepped. Perhaps it was the booze, perhaps it was the toke, perhaps he was simply too tired to notice that he'd left the screen on. By the time he'd hit the bed he was out like a rock, collapsed onto the bed and quietly drifting to sleep. There on the brightly lit screen, in the darkness of the unlit bedroom, it saw its opportunity.

From it's perch on the nightstand, the phone began to spark. Small sparks at first, a quick fizzle and quiet pop. Then more: louder, brighter, faster. It began to rumble against the wooden tabletop, sizzling and sparkling as it danced before the screen went black and dead. Slowly, electric crackling gave way to a bubbling sludge. The glass subtly started wave and bellow, as if it were liquified, not taking long to begin to spill over the edges of it's metal frame. The black sludge fell like oil onto the hardwood floors, collecting in a growing, bubbling pool.

From the primordial ooze burst forth a long, slender arm; it's taloned fingers scraping as it braced itself on the ground. A second arm clawed it's way out, and with an echoing slosh, it had begun to pull itself out of the sludge. It's long, emaciated torso and thick muscled legs had slithered out, landing on two massive, clawed feet. It towered above Asher's bed as he slumbered, bent over so as not to hit it's back onto the eight foot ceiling. It stood there, looking at the person it'd observed and studied for so long. The image presented in the world it'd pried himself out of was nothing of what lay before it. From what it had gathered from his more clandestine dealings, it had noted that he was far from the archetypes he'd collected on Asher's behalf.

He did not have the tattoos like those he'd pinned on Pinterest. He was not wearing the dark, heavy clothes like those he'd saved on Instagram. He wasn't well endowed like the video's he'd favorited on X-Tube. He didn't give off the aura of some rebellious casanova like the stories he'd reblogged on Tumblr. To a creature of symmetry and consistency, this was an error to be corrected; a dichotomy requiring integration.

It crouched down above his drooling maw, gently caressing his head to face it's clenching claw. The talons pressed ever so tenderly past his lips and over his tongue, becoming the very black ooze it had crawled out of once more. It flooded down his throat as it's second arm made it's way into his mouth, as if it were being sucked into Asher. He was drinking it's essence, it's aqueous body slurping down into his core. It's torso compressed as it wriggled down his gullet, ringing out splashing squelches as Asher gargled it down.

As quickly as it had entered, it's long legs slithered into his mouth, leaving only its large feet thrashing about in the air. Asher's stomach was bubbling and undulating under the sheer pressure from this invasion, growing to a large gut spilling over the waistband of his jeans. One loud slurp and a crisp pop, and the feet slipped into him, leaving his writhing body squirming on the bed. It expanded within him, incorporating itself into every fibre of his being. Pressing into his arms, his legs, pushing up his throat until it met the top of his palate. The pressure began to mount, black goo dribbling down the corners of his mouth, until a wet crack sounded in his cavernous head, and it flowed into his skull.

It took mere seconds for it to reach his brain, which it flowed freely into throughout the grooves and nooks. Entirely coated, imbued and inoculated with it, the deed was done. Asher opened his eyes, tiredly sitting up in his bed. He looked over at his phone, tapping it with his finger: 3 AM.

At first it seemed like a nightmare. He could recall moments here and there, though the majority of his 'dream' was a blur. From what he could remember, it was nothing visual he could recollect... but it he could recollect the sensations. Wet, slimy, invasive, and cold- much like he felt drunkenly sleeping in his cold sweat. He brought himself to his feet, dragging his feet on the slippery floorboards to his bathroom.

Flipping the switch, the harsh fluorescent light flickered to life above him, as he turned the nozzle on his shower. Immediately, his jaw nearly dropped to the floor. In the mirror, Asher finally caught a glimpse of himself: strange black bruises and undulating bumps were scattered across his body. That pristine, smooth skin was now covered in sprawling web-like lesions from head to toe. He had mere moments to process the horror reflected in front of him before an immediate pain in the gut had him doubled over the counter.

His stomach started to bubble and groan, and through the foggy haze of his blurred vision he saw his feet begin to ripple and swell. He could feel the slick sweaty soles slide across the tile floor as they expanded and grew. As they reached a substantial size 13, the swelling crept it's way up his calves and into his thighs. Asher wobbled on his feet, as if they were filled with gelatin beneath his slippery skin while his knees began to buckle. He collapsed into a crouch, the fumes of sweaty footmusk bellowing up to his nostrils as his legs cracked and stretched above. He'd never truly experienced scentplay as he'd so dearly fantasized about throughout countless hours of edging to such content, nor had this funk ever emanated from his own soles. In the moment, he felt something within him prod into his brain. As if poking the individual folds of his cerebrum with thousands of tiny needles, causing cascades of thoughts to enter his mind- all of which telling him to embrace. In his mind's eye, he could see himself burying his face into his sweaty sole, between his long toes, lapping up every droplet of sweat that was spewing from his pores. The thought was buried deep in his subconscious, pried out with expert measure, by something now within him.

Grasping for anything to steady himself on, Asher gripped the edge of the sink, pulling himself upright once again and now towering above the countertop. He hung his aching head low, watching with strange newfound fervor as his cock began to feel heavier and heavier. Drool started to drip from the bottom of his lip, landing square onto the lengthening shaft. Like a sandbag, his balls dropped and swelled while he got harder and harder. Another onslaught of pinpricks in his head brought forth another command: stroke.

Steam started build in the bathroom as the hot water continued to fall from the shower, intensifying the scent wafting from now both his feet and his pendulous sac. Each breath of hot, wet musk hit like ecstasy, and with bated breath, he softly grasped ahold of his python and began to pump. Each knead of his engorged member was accompanied by a change. His fingers grew long and sinewy, smooth and slick with precum. His arms remained thin but toned, growing longer and packed with lean muscle. His torso lengthened, topped off with a firm pair of pecs above his sinewy abdomen.

As pressure began to build in his balls, his mind began to feel the needles one last time, imbuing his brain with one last injection of a single trait: pride. He didn't need the approval of anyone else, he was aware of how fucking hot he was. He didn't need to heed the rules that society had straddled him with, he always forged his own path. He had no fears of recompense for his attitude, his ego, his spirit- the world would either stand with him, or he would step on top of them. Either way, what bliss. As the last of his inhibitions and fears had gathered in his groin, he cried out in elation as he erupted. Rope after rope of black sludge shot from his cannon, washing him with a sense of relief he'd never before known. He released his grip on his softening cock, hanging at an obscene eleven inches. He smirked at the sludge coating his mirror and pooling beneath his toes. A sight like that would have shocked and terrified the old Asher, though as he stood before his reflection, devoid of any tension, he relented to the entity within him. It had delivered onto him a new self, a new image, a new viewpoint. As tattoos both vulgar and delicate began to sprawl across his skin, he happily admired his new likeness.

The entity had bestowed a gift to him; throughout the horror, throughout the fear, he was becoming the true Asher that had only ever peeked out from the abyss of his psyche. He leered, bringing his thumb and middle finger together before snapping loudly. From his pores, the black sludge began to spill across his body until he was nearly covered from the neck down in what appeared to be a rubber suit before it began to become a bit more defined. A plain white tee shirt, classically fashioned with a black and white varsity jacket from his college. Skinny, weathered black jeans barely containing his sizeable commando bulge beneath it's thin fabric. On his feet, a pair of white socks and tightly tied high top Chucks, quelling the ripe stink of his soles within the sneaker for some sub to pry off and enjoy.

He grinned, posing and modeling for himself, before he finally turned off the steaming water. After the long, arduous, painful process, the entity had incorporated itself entirely within him- now completely indistinguishable from parasitic to symbiotic. It had rewritten him, completely remade him in the likeness of who he had shown the vast virtual world. There was no cognitive dissonance, there were no lies, there was no deception. All that remained was the Asher he had created in his fantasy, now ready to fuck the real world and all within it.

Thus, as our creature feature comes to an end, I leave you with a modicum of friendly advice. Don't leave your phone on as you slumber, for those that are watching, those that are waiting, those that have been learning are a mere sheet of glass away from finding their way inside. Take my counsel, or ignore it. But do so knowing the outcome, and whether or not you are prepared to weather such a storm.

[guywrestlingaddiction]

What Turned me Gay: How to Introduce Someone to Gay Wrestling

It's no secret that wrestling turned me gay.  High school wrestling turned into a passion for pro wrestling, which evolved into an obsession with gay wrestling.  Now, while my journey is unique to me, I wondered, how do you turn someone on to gay wrestling? 

What turned me gay (not really) ... 

Troy & Brian Baker v Vinny Trevino & Joshua Goodman (bgeast.com)

This post, inspired by the sidelineland.com blog, takes a tongue and cheek look into "what made me gay (not really)" and in thinking about the topic of introducing someone to gay wrestling, it's helpful to go back to the beginning - at least my beginning.

My first exposure to gay wrestling was on bgeast.com and boy do I still have vivid memories of that experience. Those wrestler profiles, the exciting match descriptions, all of it worked to overly stimulate my young imagination.  Reading about those grunting and groaning men made me feel like I was there, in the ring with them and feeling every strained bicep or the pain of a perfectly timed ball claw.  One particular image forever sealed in my memory from that day was an aggressive Brigham Bell flex-straddling a helpless Dino Serra in a schoolboy pin.  Brigham's cocky look, that vain bicep flex all worked to supercharge my interest.

Brigham Bell v Dino Serra (bgeast.com)

Later, after months, maybe even years of research, when I was finally able to buy my first Bgeast DVD, I picked up Tag Team Torture 3 - specifically because of Mr.Troy Baker.  Now it wasn't intentional but what's key here is that I picked a gay wrestling match without the sex.  As it happened, Troy Baker simply didn't do nudity and after all my 'research' there was no stopping me from wanting to see him.  

Troy & Brian Baker v Vinny Trevino & Joshua Goodman (bgeast.com)A gay wrestling match without the gay sex

I mean can you blame me? 

All that to say that my first introduction to gay wrestling was less about guys doing it and more about the wrestling. Of course I visited other gay sites devoted purely to sex, but somehow keeping them separate - gay wrestling and gay porn helped. In fact, it intensified my gay wrestling passion since there was just nothing hotter than being taken to the edge of excitement, only to be denied it.  Gay wrestling wasn't just a cheesy prelude to the sex, it was an epic story of powerful emotions, humiliation, and masculinity.  Needless to say I was hooked. 

Flyboy v Jose (bgeast.com) Another gay wrestling classic without the sex.

I won't go as far to say that I didn't need the release that typical porn had to offer, but what I will say is that the images of hot guys straining their muscles or the guttural moans each fighter made was simply hotter than anything else I had seen before. Whether it was the intense cries of defeat or the shakiness in their voice when the adrenaline was flowing; all of that was heaven to me.

Mars v Bjorn (wrestler4hire.com)

But the thing that did it for me was the intense realness that gay wrestling brought.  The sweat that proved each man was a fighter, the trash talk boasting how they would dominate each other, and the humiliation showing there were real consequences to all this, all worked in concert to fuel what was rapidly becoming my obsession.  

Grant Phelps v Mark Molina (movimuswrestling) Movimus: The most wrestling focused studio. 

At stake in each wrestling match was a piece of a man's masculinity and pride, with the winner stripping the loser of everything they had. Gay wrestling to me was everything but the sex, everything but the climax, all of which made it a thousand times hotter.

So how do you welcome someone to all that gay wrestling has to offer? Following my path I'd recommend jumping into a classic high quality match minus the sex from a studio like Bgeast then alternating between a studio that offers more sex to one that offers more wrestling. 

After awhile you'll figure out where you land on this spectrum (wrestling and sex) and really begin to see where the stars align for you.  Now for me, if I had to guess what the perfect mix would be, it would be something like 75% wrestling and 25% sex, but to each their own.  

Ron Masters v Cody Brooks (can-am.com) Can-Am: The most sex focused studio. 

Jonathan Bennett v J Durango (bgenterprises) Bgenterprises: Sometimes all wrestling, sometimes all sex. 

Logan v Drake (nrwrestling.com) Nrwrestling: The most non-gay gay wrestling studio.

Luke Truong v Mack Mahoney (muscleboywrestling.com) Muscleboywrestling: More sex focused than wrestling. 

Cali Boy v Christian Thorn (wrestler4hire.com) Wrestler4hire: More wrestling than sex. 

Cody v Tanner Ripley (undergroundwrestler.com) Undergroundwrestler: Gay wrestling with everything but the nudity. 

Kid Leopard v Sean Cannon (bgeast.com) Bgeast: This studio has everything on the wrestling-sex continuum. 

When I first started watching gay wrestling there were really just a few options but now there are countless variations to entertain yourself with. Some of you may prefer more sex, others more wrestling, but whatever the type of gay wrestling you ultimately become interested in, it really is up to you. You see this story, this journey of how I came to obsess over gay wrestling is unique to me as it is to every other person's passion and without a doubt something that turned me gay (not really).

[reallyhardydraws]

2023.

i hope any of you reading this will forgive the essay. i started posting to this art blog ten years ago in 2013 when i was just at the very end of high school, uploading short animations i'd made for one of my final projects, preparing myself for art school where i was gearing up to become an illustration/animation student.

i went into my art foundation course in 2014, still thinking i was going to be going into storybook illustration or with faint hopes of becoming like a concept artist for game/animation, although even then i'd started thinking about patterns...

and then in 2015 i did go into my BA, going in for that illustration with animation degree that... usually when i talk about it in real life, i say didn't really feel like the best place for me. if i think back, the best things i got out of it were two of my best friends, one of whom is now my partner. looking back on my BA era, there's some bits of sketchbook stuff...

and while i was at university my main fandoms were thunderbirds are go and x-men for a bit... these are from the end of 2015 into the beginning of 2016...

then for a little while i was doing this still sort of pastel-ish lineless situation:

and i alternated between that and this thin fineliner type work (pretty sure all of the linearted pieces were done on paper and scanned, and all the lineless were graphics-tablet-only) - it was in this style that i started to offer commissions for the first time too.

and i also had fineliner-lined work in sketchbooks that i coloured with marker and posca pens, the colours of which were generally a bit more intense just based on not being able to slide the hue/saturation around on paper:

also 2016 was when i discovered the spongebob musical just after it's trial run in chicago (which ended in july of 2016) and i started making fanart at that point... which would have the biggest effect on the way i drew (and i did end up handing in a piece of spongebob musical fanart as one of my art school homeworks lmao)

from summer 2016 until early 2017 things were still quite soft and pastelly in my digital art, colour-wise:

and then suddenly everything got whacked up to 100% on saturation. also i was using the binary tool to give everything really thin pixel lineart for some reason.

then i went on vacation in summer 2017 and didn't draw for maybe a month? just short of? and when i came back i decided to change everything up again... giving characters blobbier, more ugly-cute faces with large squinting eyes and big nostrils and i was worrying a lot less about making anything look smooth, lineart-wise. i turned off the pen stabiliser in SAI and let it wiggle.

then... the spongebob musical opened on broadway in late 2017, i went to see it live in person for the first time... and my whole brain was ENTIRELY consumed by my love of it. i was putting that david zinn inspired pattern explosion into everything, even if it wasn't sbm fanart.

as we go into 2018, i started colouring my lineart. my biggest interest was still broadway musicals (with spongebob at the top of the list)

i think summer 2017 - early 2018 is probably my favourite art era, i was at my most bright and colourful and exciting... although i know in my actual real life i was struggling a lot with my home situation and i had been for some time. art was definitely my escapism back then, and i think a lot of the time i drew really bright, joyful stuff to try and inject that feeling into myself.

as for my university work, i was putting my focus into 3D paper-mache puppets:

and i was also starting to do more repeat patterns, mostly inspired by things around me. i'd learned how to make patterns actually tile and repeat in 2017, so made a few during my time at uni just to accompany some of my projects, but never as the focus of them. one of my university tutors told me that maybe i should put more focus on doing surface pattern, and maybe applying it to textiles, but i said i wasn't interested.

i graduated from my BA in the summer of 2018, and immediately began volunteering at the whitworth art gallery doing anything i could - stewarding, helping with arts and crafts, dancing with families...

in 2019 i was still very colourful... i was trying out more chunky colouring on characters skintones that i think was def inspired by tumblr artist jadenvargen:

but the blobbyness and ugly-cute style of drawing faces was gone by here, and i think... the way i drew characters probably had better *anatomy*, proportions were maybe a bit more realistic...

in 2020 i started adding the black shading to under the chins and some other places on characters' bodies because i started watching the anime my hero academia with my brother, lmao (and i was starting to pastelise colours a bit again, these are the most pastel-ish examples) my lineart has really smoothed back out too, though i never turned my pen stabiliser back on in SAI. i think my hand just adjusted. probably seems a bit insane to miss that, but i do.

by the end of 2020, the almost-year of lockdown over cobid had... made me a bit insane, i think, and i moved out of my mother's house and into a flat with a friend from university.

in 2021 i think things were much the same... i think from this point on is where things have sort of settled. i don't want to say stagnated, but i do think things have been very... like this for a while.

2022 - got the most exciting examples out...

also i was very into these little frames in 2022.

and then on to 2023! in 2022, i did begin trying to shift gears a bit -- hoping to put more energy into sewing and making products (like my tutor has suggested back in uni, even though i'd really resisted the idea.) i sold at a few in-person markets during winter of 2022, but got disheartened by the amount of money i had to sink in up front to sign up for a spot...

which has made me VERY grateful for the people who have supported me via online sales. it has really helped me stay afloat in 2023 - AND it has felt more wonderful than i can describe that there have been people interested in my work... especially when a lot of it has been my original designs, rather than the fanart that i expect a lot of people initially followed me for.

i've also... in the past 2 years... branched out a bit more when it comes to 'being an artist' - and have had the opportunity to deliver arts & crafts workshops with local refugee & asylum seeker support charity, afrocats. it's taken me to their home base in a church to hotels across the city where asylum seekers were temporarily placed while waiting on their new homes, and of course to my beloved whitworth art gallery, where we welcomed visitors from all backgrounds: from the typical white middle class visitors the gallery usually expects, to all the refugee visitors coming into the space for the first time.

and through my volunteering at the whitworth, i showed up so often they decided they might as well pay me. so i've also become a facilitator of... creative play sessions, my favourites of which have been outdoors. monthly, year-round, we have 'outdoor art club', where i get to paint with mud and make potions from leaves with kids & families - here you can see me tell you a little bit about it in this video below with 'crempog' a puppet character that makes videos about activities for kids and families around manchester (my bit starts at 01:10 although i am in the intro and thumbnail haha)

and then of course the summer 'PLAYTIME' activities we've had the past two years: scrap studio in 2022, and play market in 2023. it's the best freelance gig ever -- just to hang out and encourage families to be creative and have fun.

in working more in these new avenues... outside of being - as i've called myself for a long time - "an internet artist"... i've found myself more interested in this sort of thing. in being a "real world artist" too. in doing surface pattern design, and being a workshop facilitator, i find myself wanting to put more energy into these sorts of projects.

in 2023 i've also dabbled a little bit more in youtube videos! i have had a channel for a while and have made videos in previous years, but 2023 has been the year i've done the most in. admittedly most of them haven't been about my art, and more just like... random things that interest me (the spongebob musical in particular) but i've really been enjoying video editing. that's kind of an art form too, so i'm including it here!

moving forward, want to keep putting even more of my energy into other things. my shop, with a bigger range of products to offer. workshops in real life, where i can make a difference.

as for my art blog... i feel like i've done the least drawing in many years in 2023, and... well, things have been weird and complicated for a bit in my real life. i hope to draw for fun a bit more again very soon, and to return to doing things in more of a wild and crazy way, to be more creative and exciting with the way i draw things. still, here's some of my favourites from 2023:

thank you so much to everyone who has borne witness to my art journey this past decade!!! i hope you will stick with me, who knows, maybe for another 10 years if tumblr holds out. especially a big thank you to everyone who has ever commissioned me, or bought anything from my store, you literally keep me able to make art at all and i cannot, cannot, cannot overstate how much it means to me.

i'm moving homes soon, possibly into very cramped temporary conditions for a little while before HOPEFULLY starting my real life with my partner. if i can take one more moment to plug my work, then [here is a link to my online shop] and [here is my ko-fi page too.]

cheers, cheers, cheers!

- LOREN 🌈🍍🎉

[doyoulikethisanimesong-poll]

I have finally caught up with my Ask inbox!

After having my inbox closed for probably a month or so (I really should note this shit down), I have finally reached the latest ask and queued it up.

Shits Changing

After having a couple weeks of going through your submissions, I had some ideas on how to improve this system because it wasn't working for me and wasn't working for many of you either (as evidenced by the confusion from some people when the 17th Zetsubou song came on). I tried to mitigate this by putting a day or two between songs from the same artist or anime but it wasn't perfect and didn't fix the issues I was having on my end (namely that I just don't want to listen to an animes whole ost for an hour)

From now onwards I will be doing submissions through google forms (or some kind of alternative if something catches my attention. If you have any reccs, lemme know). I will have the submission form open until I get roughly 50 songs (subject to change if I think its too many or too little) and there will only be one song per submission. You will have to be logged into google to make your submission although I will get no data about who sent what, its just a way to stop people from making 17 submissions under the same email. If you want to game the system, I'm gonna make you put atleast a little bit of effort into it.

However do not be discouraged, it doesn't mean you get one submission ever, it just means you only get one submission per submission period. At a rough estimate of how many songs I queue up a week, you will probably get about one submission a week/fortnight.

Here is the current submission form:

The latest submission form will always be amongst the blogs links thing (if you can't tell at this point, I am not particularly good at tumblr and honestly have no idea what half the stuff is called.)

I'll just post a picture and hopefully it will make more sense. I will also be making a post everytime a new submission form is made as well.

Right there in the middle called Submission Form #1, thats what I'm talking about and hopefully is accessible to all of you (I really do not understand how this site works).

But what about my submission, I haven't heard it yet?

If you haven't heard your submission by Poll #493, that means I haven't queued it up. This can be for multiple reasons. The biggest one is that you didn't give me enough information and I could not be fucked scouring the internet trying to decipher your submission so I will be making certain info required for future submissions. Don't be discouraged if you didn't hear your song at that point, it doesn't mean that I hate it and never want to listen to it again, just resubmit it in the new submisssion form with the required information and I will happily throw it in the queue.

Back to the Asks

The ask feature will now go back to being used as intended, namely to ask me personal questions and blog related questions. Any submissions sent through it will just be ignored and deleted but if you want to ask me about my favourite food, favourite anime or my opinion on anything, I will happily answer.

This is my last paragraph, please put up with my last ramblings

From Poll #500 to #510, I will be testing a new poll layout. This is due to people wanting certain options on the poll that I did not originally add due to the limited amount of votes. Now that a poll gains roughly 300 votes at mininum though, I feel its a good time to test a couple extra polling options.

[friendlybowlofsoup]

Another Update

Hello Friends,

I have a rather long (but optimistic!) update to share with you all today. As many of you are probably tired of reading these kind of posts, I have a TL;DR here, but I did want to share what has been on my mind in that past half-year that I haven't been here.

It has been rough, and busy as always, but I think I'm finally facing myself and my project for the first time in a very long time.

TL;DR (it's actually long, I have a lot to say (*_ _)人)

I soul-searched and decided to stop compromising on my own feelings with regards to this project. I gave in to everything I wanted to do.

Plot changes, which means some character changes, which means some of the demo is outdated.

GotRM will be switching over to Twine.

----

OH MAN DID I SUFFER THE LAST FEW MONTHS

After my previous update, I hunkered down and really analyzed how I wanted to proceed with GotRM as a project. Because even prior to that post, I had already been going through long periods of hiatuses (which you are all aware of), and while I didn't lie about school taking up my time, I was also harboring a growing dissatisfaction with my own writing that really killed my progress for a long time.

So after everything had settled, I sat down and forced myself to peel apart my work. I know I said I would answer asks, but I uninstalled all of my social media and put aside this blog to focus. I made a note of all the things I liked and didn't like, and I made a list of things I wanted to change or improve on. The biggest point was that I also looked at my efficiency during actual writing sessions: how much of my time was spent writing vs. fighting with code? How could I change that?

And after a lot of deliberation, I figured there were a few things I had to change from the ground up, summed up in four points:

My working style was super incompatible with grad school. I can't spend 20-30 minutes scrolling up and down CSIDE checking code or looking for narratives while also jumping between chapters to make sure events line up. As this story grows, the more difficult it becomes to keep track of all the branches, so I needed an alternative working method, which I am adhering to now, and it prioritizes efficiency.

I hated the way I was tracking and coding stats in-game. I have griped so much about coding stats, and I have adhered to such a rigid style that I really felt trapped whenever I was confronted with balancing them out. So I'm throwing that to the wind and redoing how I utilize and convey them. Player-side, this decision doesn't change much since I never fully utilized stats in the demo anyway, and the stats page with indicators will still exist, but I'm getting rid of stat bars and how I treat stat checks.

The story I want to write now is different from the one I started out with. I've known for a while that GotRM was becoming far more than the tiny, wishful novella that I wrote as a teenager. I held onto that old story for a long time, but there's just so much I want to change that I realized I'd been clinging to a story I no longer enjoyed writing. So I spent the majority of the last few months rewriting GotRM from scratch. I redid some worldbuilding, I changed a lot of plot points, and I fixed a lot of characters' backstories accordingly. This meant scrapping stuff from even the demo, but that turned out to not be the biggest issue because:

I wanted to branch away from ChoiceScript. Honestly, I never really cared about getting officially published, but the camaraderie in the forums and on Tumblr were why I committed to CS and CoG. However, ultimately, I really want the functionality that other tools can offer GotRM, and so after a long internal debate, I will be switching over to Twine. Fortunately, since I was rewriting everything anyways, this has been relatively painless, and passage mapping has made everything so much neater. I am trying my best to make it up to chapter 2 before I release the new demo, so please look forwards to that!

And so yes, I am still here, chugging along.

I love this game and this story: it's been my creative escape for as long as I could remember, and you can imagine how frustrated I was when I realized I was starting to dread working on it.

I am forever learning more about myself and my writing style, and this is simply more of that journey. Thank you everyone for sticking around, for joining the discord, and for checking up on me--that I have all of you has truly been a dream.

Hopefully more updates to come soon! I understand that there may be questions about these new changes, so please ask away! I will (try) to release some asks that I've been working on in the drafts too, but I will wait until at least tomorrow to release them so that this post doesn't get drowned out immediately.

And as always, with a lot of love,

FriendlyBowlofSoup (Mei)

[queering-the-chain]

To oblivion, you say?

Hello and welcome to the Queering the Chain creation event! There will be a list of prompts dedicated to diversifying our lovely Linked Universe boys, girls, and everyone in between. The event will run through the month of July.

Hosted by @triforce-of-mischief. You can call me Fable, and I use she/they pronouns. I've also collected a fancy set of genderqueer, demigirl, and aegosexual labels.

Them's the rules:

Let's get the question of Linkshipping out of the way first. I am respecting Jojo's request and while I don't encourage Linkshipping within the Chain of Linked Universe, I can't prevent it. This blog will not engage, positively or negatively, with content that ships Linked Universe Links with each other.

All ratings are allowed. This blog will engage with content of any rating as long as it does not interfere with the above. Explicit content will be archived in a single post, which minors are discouraged from interacting with. Do not attempt to argue this, as my decision is final. Queerphobia and purity culture go hand in hand, and this event intends to combat both.

There will be 15 main prompts along with some alternate prompts. They are not limited to any specific days in July.

You can combine as many prompts as you want.

There is no deadline.

There is no minimum requirement of creation.

There is no completionist prize.

Writing and art of any media are encouraged.

You do not have to create something new for this event. If you have already created something that fits a prompt, you may share it.

This blog will highlight participants who create their own post and @ the blog. Due to the unknown amount of participation and the single mod, I will make no promises for how many entries will be engaged with on this blog.

If I have blocked you from my main blog, or vice versa, I will not be able to see your interactions with this blog. That's just how sideblogs work.

Please reblog this post so the event can gain visibility!

Prompts are here.

NSFW entries here (18+ only)

[milla-frenchy]

Roads part 4

3k7 | Joel Miller x fem reader Chapt summary: Joel's complex personality continues to disrupt your relationship Warnings: 18+ mdni. Dubcon mutual somnophilia (the subject has been discussed before for reader, not for Joel), alternate POV, 69, cum eating (m/f), semi public (car sex at night), dirty talk, degradation, praise kink, oral (m receving), unprotected piv, creampie, jealousy a/n: A big shout out to @toxicanonymity, somno queen. sleeping beauty was the first fic with somnophilia content that I read, and... Oh my 🥵🖤 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog Thank you for always taking time for me🥰❤️🫂 Spotify playlist | ao3 | Series masterlist | Masterlist

Part 3

Tommy, at first, was uptight about your relationship with Joel. You saw him sometimes looking thoughtfully at Joel, but as the weeks passed he relaxed.

He asked you: “Is he good to you?”

“Yes Tommy. He is. Truely. Never felt so good for years.” You hugged him, and added “Really Tommy. I'm happy with him"

“Ok, honey. I just want you to be happy.”

Your relationship with Joel was going well although he still had moments of insecurity, notably the first times you were at the pub after the altercation, he had hugged you so tightly that you had to ask him to loosen his embrace. “It’s ok, Joel. I’m not going anywhere." He looked at you, nodded before kissing your neck.

Tommy's eyes widened when he saw the scene and finally got used to your relationship.

Sarah was coming for the holidays in a few days, Joel had spoken to her about you, initiating the subject awkwardly and with apprehension, but his daughter was much more open minded and refined than him.

“Well that explains why you've been less grumpy over the last few months on the phone! I'm happy for you dad. It's about time you thought about yourself.”

Joel grumbled then said “Grumpy? You talk like Tommy.”

“He’s not wrong about that. So what’s her name?”

Joel told her your name, and Sarah added “Wait a minute, like Tommy’s friend? It's her?"

"It is. Heard 'bout her?"

"Oh man about a million times! She seems great from what Tommy told me about her. That's so cool! I almost met her a few years ago"

“What do you mean?”

“You had to leave for the 4th of July for work and I had to stay with Tommy. He wanted the three of us to spend the day together. He bought some fireworks and told me the Smiths loved them, but I wasn't so sure about that.”

“Jesus…”

“Anyway, you had finished your project and returned on time and it didn't happen, you surprised me by taking me to Austin. Tommy didn't even have time to talk to her about me but he was sure she wouldn't mind. He often spoke to me about her, she seemed so cool dad!”

“She is” he said, smiling.

“How did you make her fall for you, rusty man?”

“I dunno kid,” he laughed.

The day before Sarah arrived, you were spending the night at his house.

Joel woke up during the night, you were lying face to face. He watched you sleep for a few minutes, your face barely lit by the moonlight. And he thought about the fantasy you told him about several days ago. His cock hardened immediately.

He wanted to please you, he knew what you wanted, you had described it to him with  precision. And he was going to oblige you. 

He gently removed the sheet, revealing your naked body.

He turned you onto your back, slowly, taking the opportunity to spread your thighs wide enough for him to insert himself between them. You sighed in your sleep.

His cock was so hard it hurt. He spit saliva on his hand and stroked it, before sliding his shaft gently against your clit, brushing it just like you asked. You frowned in your sleep but didn't wake up.

He licked his fingers and applied as much saliva as he could to the tip of his cock.

He grabbed the base of his cock in his hand, and slid into your entrance, just inserting the tip, and stopping so as not to hurt you. Your folds tightened against him and he bit back a moan. You were so tight. He thought about what you had asked him specifically, and he pushed slowly. In one single slow drive, he bottomed out.

**********************

You woke up instantly, feeling like you were split in two, first.

Then, experiencing what you’ve been wanting for years, but never found the person to share it with until… Joel. Being fucked while you were sleeping. Excitement immediately took over the pain.

You looked at Joel's face and whined, closing your eyes immediately.

He brought his lips to your ear, and whispered, “I need to fuck. I need to empty my balls.”

“Fuck” you exhaled, feeling your pussy squeeze him immediately upon hearing it.

“Shut up. Just wanna hear your fucking moans.”

He put his hand over your mouth and started fucking you hard. You licked his palm, looking at him.

“You’re such a whore,” he said.

His body weighed heavily on yours, his other arm rested near your head, leaning on his elbow, his fist and jaw clenched.

“Fuck… you’re so good for my cock. So tight,” he raised his chest to look down at the base of his cock sinking into your pussy for a few moments, then he lay on top of you again.

He growled, you had raised your pelvis to rub your clit against him.

“Need to cum in your fucking pussy. That’s it, yeah like that… my slut’s cunt is so wet now.”

You came instantly, just before he shot his loads of cum deep inside your pussy and filled you up.

Once you finished milking his cock, he rolled onto his back, looked at you while your eyes were still closed after your orgasm, then turned to the other side.

Then again, he was doing exactly what you asked him to do.

Both of you fell back asleep.

He woke up two hours later. It was still dark, you were asleep on your back, in the position he had left you, breathing softly.

His cock was hard again, he settled between your thighs after quickly wetting it with his saliva on his fingers.

He rubbed his cock against your entrance, still wet from the cum that had leaked out of you while you slept.

He bottomed out in one push, much easier than a couple hours ago, with the help of your juices. He put his hand over your mouth immediately.

You woke up full of him and widened your eyes.

“You like being my fucking slut?”

You nodded, after a few seconds, once again out of your deep sleep.

“Does it turn you on, to be fucked twice while you sleep, with my cum still dripping from your fucking soaked pussy?”

You nodded again.

“I’m gonna fuck you stupid, baby. You’re so fucking wet and filled with my cum.” He fucked you rough. You gasped into the palm of his hand.

"You're such a slut, taking my cock like that."

Then he alternated rhythms, sometimes fucking you quickly and tapping your G spot repeatedly, sometimes softer but harder, filling you up completely.

Your gasps became moans.

Until he came and filled you again, his jolts drawing another orgasm out of you.

You fell asleep again without saying a word.

The next morning you woke up to the rising sun. Joel lay on his back, breathing softly.

You looked at his cock. Pink, soothed and soft. Moist from the night.

Until now, you always took it in your mouth when he was already hard, but that time you wanted to feel it growing there.

You settled head to tail in relation to him, resting on your knees and your elbows, but without stepping over him.

You took it in your hand and moaned feeling it so vulnerable.

You heard him growl, and you quickly bent down to lick the tip of his cock before he woke up. Running your tongue over his slit. You felt his cock twitch and you smiled.

You took his tip in your mouth, drunk by the taste on your tongue. Yours, his. You felt the flattering in your pussy, and your wetness already flowing again.

He woke up feeling the heat around his cock.

“Fuck… Come here baby, let me taste you”, he said.

You straddled his body with your legs, your pussy level with his face. He put his hands on your hips, slid his tongue inside you, and licked everything you were soaked in. Your juices, his cum.

He lapped up, harvesting everything he could on his tongue.

You had taken him fully into your mouth, and sucked him, your lips surrounding him as best you could, one hand fixed on the base of his shaft, the other stroking his balls and sliding them under your fingers.

You slowed down as you felt your orgasm coming, unable to keep up your pace on his cock. You jerked him off, keeping your mouth just around his tip, focusing your tongue on his slit and the thickened edges of its tip.

You came together, your mouths filled with each other. He shot his cum on your tongue and in your mouth, and you swallowed every drop. 

You continued to lick each other gently, being careful not to overstimulate each other.. Just trying to make you and him feel good for as long as possible, and as gently as possible, until your spasms ended.

You then came to lie down against him, saying "morning baby" smiling, before kissing him. He took you in his arms, while both of you caught your breath.

“ya liked it?”

“Fuck yeah. You fulfilled my fantasy perfectly baby”

He went to pick Sarah up from the airport, you had agreed that you would meet her the next day. They spent the day together, Sarah talked about how her student life was going, and Joel gave an update on his work.

“Why isn’t your girlfriend here?”

“Because I wanted us to spend time together. Not to disturb you.”

“I’m not 5 anymore dad…” she laughed. I want you to be happy.

“We’re taking it slowly. I like it this way.”

"OK. And does that suit her?”

He frowned “Yes, I think so. Everything is going well between us.”

The next day you met Sarah and you immediately got on well. Tommy and Maria also came to Joel's barbecue.

You kept your distance from him, staying friendly but without particular outpouring, not wishing to make him uncomfortable. You didn't want to feel that he didn't know how to handle the situation with Sarah.

Years without an official relationship had made him lonely, and you felt he needed some time. You gave it to him, without any reservation or animosity.

You haven't seen each other much over the holidays. You wanted Joel to spend time with his daughter, and you were happy to have time for you, too.

At the end of the holidays, after dropping his daughter off at the airport, Joel came to your house.

He kissed and hugged you once the door closed.

“Thank you. Thank you for being so understanding. I… don’t really know how to handle all of this, I need time and you gave me some.”

“Of course Joel."

He hugged you tighter, his embrace lifting you slightly off the ground.

“Movie night?” you asked him. 

“Yeah sure.”

Coming home from the cinema, you put your hand on his thigh in the car. He looked down at it, then looked at you. You moved your hand up his thigh, and as you reached his crotch you bit your lip.

“What are you doing, sweetheart?”

"Catching up... I wanna suck your cock and get fucked in the back of your car"

He nodded and moved his right arm away from the steering wheel.

You pulled down his zipper and carefully took his cock out of his pants, not to get it caught in the zipper. He was already hard. You spat in your hand and jerked him gently.

"You should stop the car baby" you told him, before leaning over his cock, and running your saliva over it. You took it into your mouth, wrapping your lips around its tip and caressing it with your tongue.

The car swerved. “Told you baby,” you said, smiling, before taking him back into your mouth.

“Fuck…” he said. He turned into a residential area, and parked in a dimly lit spot. His cock out of his pants and boxers, your mouth around it, dropping further and further to the base.

He placed his hand on your head before grabbing a handful of hair in his fist. He let his head fall against the headrest for a few moments, then looked down at the back of your head. 

You let your saliva accumulate and flow down your chin, alternating your sucking rhythms. He let you set your pace, enjoying the sensations on his cock.

“Can’t - fuck… can’t believe you’re sucking my cock in a car at night. Couldn’t wait to come home?”

“Mmm mm” you said, to make him understand that no, you couldn't wait.

“I missed your mouth baby.”

You moaned at his words, and pulled back so you only had the tip in your mouth. You licked its slit, then ran your tongue over its entire length, from base to tip.

“Fuck,” he moaned. 

You did it twice, three times, then you took him whole in your mouth again. He released his fist and placed his hand on your head, while he pushed his cock down your throat. You gasped.

“Don’t move”, he commanded.

Tears in the corner of your eyes, you waited for him to release you before pulling away and breathing.

“Go ahead baby,” he commanded. 

You took him back into your mouth at your own pace. You heard him moan louder and louder, until you released him and grabbed the door handle.

"What are you doing?" he asked you.

"I told you I wanted you to fuck me in the back of your car."

He pulled his t-shirt down over his cock and got out of the car. You were waiting for him on all fours, head turned towards the rear window of the car.

He knelt behind you and lifted your dress. He pulled down your panties, just enough so that you could spread your thighs a little.

He licked his fingers and came to rub your soaking pussy.

“So wet baby”, he said

He entered you with one thrust, making you cry out and almost making you hit the door with your head.

“Fuck, Joel!”

And he fucked you, rough. Burrowing into you and tapping your cervix with every hip thrust, his hands gripping you, thumbs digging into your flesh.

“You like that, being fucked in the back of a car, like a fucking whore?”

His rhythm forced you to put your hand against the glass. He grabbed your wrists with his hands and held them crossed on your lower back, forcing you to drop your head against the seat of the backseat.

He pounded on you continuously, growling. But the feeling wasn't enough for him. He held your wrists tight in one of his hands, and grabbed your shoulder to push deeper into you.

“You’re such -fuck… a slut. Takin' me so good.”

His pace wasn't slowing, your mind was barely able to think. You just wanted to feel him as long as possible. Someone could have passed the car and still you would not be able to stop.

“Wanted my cock so bad.”

He dropped your shoulder and slowed the pace.

"No, Joel, don't slow down, please…"

“I want you to come.”

He slipped his index finger into his mouth to wet it, then lowered it to brush against your clit, and roll his finger against it.

“Squeeze my cock, baby, come on.”

You let him impose the rhythm he wanted on your body, and felt your pleasure rise under his fingers.

“Joel…”

“Yeah, i feel you pussy clenching around my cock. Come on, baby. Come on my cock.”

You felt a wave of warmth wash over you before your clit twitched under his fingers. Your spasms made him cum, he sent his load deep inside your pussy. Finally he released your wrists.

He sat on the backseat, and you turned towards him, saying “damn, i missed it.” He smiled and kissed you.

The next day, during breakfast, you asked him

"So...how was Sarah's vacation?"

“Good. It was nice to see her again.”

"Of course. It must not have been easy, so many weeks without seeing her.”

He nodded.

You felt this strange and uncomfortable lump return to your gut. Your worry increased.

You felt him distant, but didn't know how to broach the subject. You were afraid of touching a too sensitive spot and making him feel cornered. You told yourself that he needed time, but an unpleasant feeling was tugging at your insides.

Weeks passed. You never managed to address the subject that worried you. You cursed yourself internally for not having the courage to do it. But you knew you were afraid the discussion would lead to something too hard to hear.

You felt you wanted... more. Not knowing what exactly. Move in with him? You brushed the idea from your mind. You loved your independence, your house. Confronted with your own contradictions and your concern for Joel, you buried the subject in yourself.

**************************************

Since Sarah's vacation, Joel felt his anxiety growing. He loved you, but Sarah's mother's departure haunted him, and even though the situation was different this time, he was scared. Of not being able to give you what you wanted. Joel sensed that you wanted more, but felt unable to give it to you, didn't know how to. He wondered how long the situation would go on without the subject being discussed. He knew how patient you were with him, and he was grateful to you. So grateful he hated himself. He felt like he was hearing Tommy say that he was just a bear, incapable of giving himself to anyone. Yet he had given you so much so far, like never before.

One morning, your phone rang while you were taking a shower. Joel looked at the screen. Stefan.

He put down the phone and waited for you to come out of the bathroom, and said "your ex-boyfriend called."

“Mmm?”

“That f…Stefan.”

"Oh, ok" You saw his fists clenching, and you didn't like it. You felt your annoyance rising.

"Are you gonna call him back?"

“Why would I call him back?”

His knuckles were white under the pressure of his fists.

“Talk to me, Joel.”

“I can’t stand him calling you,” he said in a cold voice.

“You have nothing to worry about -”

“Really?”

“Joel!” You recoiled, choked at hearing his words.

He was silent for a few moments then said “Tell me about you and him. How you met.” his voice was low.

You sighed. “I met him a few years ago. He's a friend of a friend. He's a singer and a guitar player in a rock band. I went to see them at a gig. We started talking about music, and then it happened.”

“How long after you met him?”

“Few weeks i think”

“How long did it last? The first time.”

“Few months”

“How was it?"

“What are you talking about ?”

“Fucking him.”

You sighed. “This conversation is going too far Joel."

“He was a good fuck?” he insisted.

“Wanna know the size of his cock too? Damn…” You shook your head. “It wasn't like you and me, far from it.” He grinned like it didn't matter.

“Why did you end it?”

“Because i had enough. Can't really say more. I didn't see it as a relationship. Can't say I was really attached to him.”

“But you fucked him.”

“Yeah... Yeah. I can fuck someone and not love them, so what?”

“You never loved him?”

“No”

“But he loved you”

“I think he did, yeah.”

“You had no problem with that?”

“No.” You sighed again. “That’s enough Joel. This discussion…is unhealthy and has gone way too far. I'm not comfortable with that. Stefan and I, it’s the past. You need to work on this Joel and I'll help you if you want but I can't do it for you. I have my past, you have yours. And if you don't trust me, we have a problem."

 "It's not that."

“Yes, that’s exactly that. And what are you gonna do if you see him in the pub? Break his jaw?" You regretted saying it, and saw that he was hurt.

You looked at the clouds, standing by the window, not knowing what to do. Hurt by the fact that he was unable to express his feelings, except the negative ones. You felt that you gave away too much of yourself in this conversation, while he gave you nothing in return, just jealousy.

"You can't behave like that. We're not teenagers Joel. I know that the departure of Sarah's mother was terrible.  I know that starting our relationship wasn't easy for you. But this? I can't Joel… It's toxic. If we don't communicate properly…" 

You were tired of what was happening and stopped there. You grabbed your purse and headed towards the door. You turned to look at him and said with tears in your eyes: “I love you. And I hate you for making me say it at such a terrible time. I love YOU. Not him. I’m with YOU. Not with him." You hesitated, and murmured "Fuck you, Joel.”

You slammed the door behind you, hoping he would follow you, in vain. Your tears flowed as you got into your car. You started the car and drove away.

************************************************

Joel hated himself at that moment. The feeling of regressing again and disappointing you. The moment he saw that name on your phone screen, he was torn with emotions. His feelings for you, his fear of losing you. 

Everything was swirling around in his mind. And those thoughts were driving him crazy. He couldn't think straight anymore.

He trusted you totally. He didn't recognize himself as this jealous person.

And a part of him knew he was sabotaging himself, during this discussion. He knew he was going too far, but couldn’t stop. 

He still couldn't formulate in his mind why he was doing it. He knew he was being unfair to you. He let himself be overwhelmed by his emotions while you were always patient with him.

He watched you leave his house and slam the door. And instead of catching up to you like he wanted to, hug you and tell you that he loved you, he just stood in the dining room, hating himself for hurting you.

Part 5

********************** Thank you for reading 🙏 Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️

Follow @millafics and turn notifications on for fics updates

[hwanger]

pretty when u beg

pairing: hyunjin x fem reader

🏷 smut (minors dni) teasing, oral (f rec), overstim, orgasm countdown, orgasm control, hard dom!hyunjin if u squint, spitting

⊹ ⋆ﾟ𓆩 ☆ ♱ ☆ 𓆪 ⋆ﾟ⊹

★ an: hiiii this is @hyunlixr 🫶🏼 i lost my blog so this is a repost dw!

deep breaths was all that could be heard, his lips trailing down from ur neck to your abdomen. leaving a trail of wet kisses on his way to your clothed cunt.

he kept teasing you tonight, you went out to celebrate your three months together and instead of being all romantic and lovey-dovey, he was whispering the dirtiest things into your ears. but to be honest, you weren’t complaining at all, that’s one of the many things you loved about him, how dirty he could get, even in the most innocent occasions.

— going to fuck you so good tonight, angel.

all you could do was blush and giggle it off.

so here he was kissing your clit through your black laced panties over and over again. it felt so good, yet it wasn’t enough, you needed more.

— jinnie, please

he leaned over to spit on your mouth. and you gladly opened and swallowed for him. something he usually did as a silent request for you to keep quiet and let him do what he pleases with you.

— shut the fuck up unless you wanna be edged tonight

you kept bucking your hips into his face, but to no avail cause he ended up pinning you to the mattress, with his slender, pretty fingers sprawled out on your stomach. the fingers you oh so wanted somewhere else.

as he was busy making out with your clothed cunt, kissing and sucking here and there. you were getting desperate to feel something, anything. you took his fingers into your own hands and guided them where you needed him the most.

— no , angel. i want you to cum on my mouth first.

you groaned when he finally took your panties of and kissed your inner thighs… slowly.

— fuck please, please, give me something.

and so he did, he kissed your now bare clit and started sucking on it like a desperate, starved man. the sounds he made while eating u out were like music to your ears.

he kept alternating between licks and flicks to your bud until you came, kissing your clit to ride out your high. just to get off the bed and look for your favorite vibrator. he put it on a medium speed and pressed it lightly over your clit making you moan a little too loud from the overstimulation.

— s’too much jinnie, no. stop it.

but he knew you didn’t want him to stop, if you did actually want that you would have used your safe word. he knew how fucking greedy you were. how no matter how many times he made you cum, if he wanted you to cum again then that’s what you’d do. you’d do anything to please him.

he pressed it harder and started dragging it along your folds only stopping once the toy was on your clit again. he loved seeing you fucked out, and how just by playing with the bundle of nerves he could get you to look like that; legs sprawled out and open for him, cunt red and glistening with your own juices and his spit. it was quite the sight if you asked him.

once you had relaxed and let him play with you for a couple of minutes, he used his index finger to put the toy on the highest setting. making the vibrations float around your whole body. making you shake.

he knew you were close, he already knew your body and how you reacted when you were about to hit ur orgasm, so without moving the toy away from you, he leaned down, sticking his tongue inside of u going in and out at a fast pace. making you close your legs around his head for that extra feeling.

— you cant cum until i say so.

he started his 10 second countdown he loved to do when he wanted you to beg and cry for him. he loved hearing how desperate you were. how pretty you looked with tears in your eyes.

“10… 9…”

— m’so close please let me

you could literally feel the tears in your eyes.

“8… 7… 6…”

— i don’t think i’ll last, please let me cum

“5… 4… 3…“

— please please please

“2…“

— fuck hyune

“1…”

— cum baby, make a mess for me, hm?

you came, you came so fucking hard letting him guide you through it. finishing it all of with a soft kiss on ur clit

— good job, angel. but we are not finished yet.

he said pouting, faking sympathy. and you were down bad for whatever this man had in store for you tonight.

[aziraphales-library]

Hello, thank you for the work you put into this blog. It might be a bit early, but are there any S2 fix-it recs yet?

Hi! We have a plentiful #fix-it tag now! Here are some more to add...

you're the victim of your crime by JustNerdyThings (T)

It's a simple decision, really. It's simple in the way things rarely are, in that it's not much of a decision at all. Whatever Aziraphale might stand to gain by staying in Heaven, it cannot possibly compare to what he's already lost down on Earth. So Aziraphale leaves. He miracles up his letter of resignation, pretends to clear out his still-empty desk, and leaves. And he hopes against hope that somehow, someday, Crowley might forgive him.

hungry work by CCs_World (E)

“You must understand,” Aziraphale had whispered. He was on the doorstep of the bookshop, months after his departure, looking in at Crowley — disheveled, both of them. Broken, both of them. Afraid, both of them. Hopeful, both of them. “I understand, Aziraphale,” Crowley had said back. They had stretched out a hand to Aziraphale. “Come on. Let’s think of a plan together.” And they had. Somehow, miraculously, ineffably, a second apocalypse had been averted. Heaven and Hell were cut off. They were free — truly free. And they had all the time in the universe. So, naturally, they left London. OR: After the Second Coming does not Come, Crowley and Aziraphale move to the South Downs. However, living together is difficult when there are over 6000 years of tension between them - tension which must be resolved if they are to have their happily ever after.

Trembling with tenderness by HolRose (T)

When the former demon Crowley is surprised in his Mayfair flat by a visit from his erstwhile boss and their ex-Archangel partner asking for assistance, Crowley has that familiar sinking feeling that something he did in the past has come back to bite him on the arse. When the current Supreme Archangel materialises in his flat shortly afterwards, Crowley knows the time has come for them to really talk at last. Just as soon as they’ve got rid of their visitors, that is. A post Season 2 fix-it fic in which they communicate properly, and Aziraphale demonstrates just how crafty, and also loving, he can be. This is one for those who might like something genuinely soft and romantic after the ending to Season 2.

We'll make Heaven a place on Earth by arabellas_court (E)

Aziraphale unfolded the piece of paper slowly beneath the horrid lighting. He cleared his throat and looked around, the corners of his mouth faltering just a second when he landed on Crowley. He looked down at the paper. “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth—” “Jesus Christ,” Crowley grumbled. “No, dear, he came later, remember?” ------ Crowley knows his worth. He can't take Aziraphale back immediately after how hurt he's been. And for once, Aziraphale has to work for that forgiveness. Both of them are a mess. Both of them go to therapy—unexpectedly, together. Angst with a happy ending.

Snogging on Heaven's Door by Tetrisbiene (M)

What if Aziraphale actually said, 'Do it again. Please. Right now!'? A Post-Season 2 Fanfic. Aziraphale has to go to Heaven to thwart the Second Coming, and Crowley just can't let him go alone. Follow the pair as they meet old and new faces, go to heavenly meetings, sow mischief, and tempt some angels to fall in love with humanity. May the two find a flat surface to talk things over with each other before this big promotion can tear them apart. This is the story of our ineffable idiots in a roller coaster ride of emotions, heavenly bureaucracy, and stolen kisses against doors. Have some angst, some stupid puns in the chapter titles, and an elevator ride that's basically an excuse for me to write a cheesy alternative ending to help me get over the actual finale.

In the cracks of light, I dreamed of you by sunrisesinthesuburbs (T)

Aziraphale stares back at the Metatron with renewed optimism. “I know where my loyalty stands, Sir,” he starts, even managing a small smile. “And I do not need to prove myself to them. When the Time comes, they will enjoy what I’ve been working on.” He sounds convincing, really. Honest, reliable and responsible. Crowley decides this is a good time to whistle: “Someone’s getting all professional up here.” Aziraphale dares to peep in his direction, hoping to convey with one brief look everything he is thinking about: ‘Shut up, will you? I’m trying to do something here.’ Crowley smirks, of course. He really is so annoying. “Well, Aziraphale, you may not need to prove yourself to them,” the Metatron reaches for something inside his jacket, “but you need to prove yourself to me.” Aziraphale fails Heaven's test (of course), and now he has to fix an even bigger mess. Throw a messy break up and a Second Coming in the mix and, somehow, you get a getaway car and a cottage in the South Downs. A lot can happen in a day. (Post Season 2; my very own attempt at fixing things.)

- Mod D