#1555 words

[ltwilliammowett]

Silver circular seal-matrix of the Muscovy Merchants, with a semi-circular handle with moulding on edge. The Coat of arms: ship surmounted by lion and two roses. Date and legend with foliate scrolls between the words Refugium Nostrum in Deo Est ("Our Refuge is in God") Made in England, 1555

[junkdrawerfics]

First Date

Part 5 of Series of Firsts

Previous

Summary: Jasper takes you on your first date, but getting to it is a little more up and down than you expected. Worth it though.

Words: 1555

Note: definitely not what I planned to write, but I think I like it!

---

He knocks. For the first time since you really became friends, Jasper knocks on your front door. He doesn’t scare you at the window with that stupid smirk or wait outside by his car, far away from your father.

He knocks.

And when you stumble down to the first floor landing, there he is, with his charming smile and the stupidly nice dark blue button-down that you’ve always loved. And there your father is, laughing. Actually laughing. You blink. Your father and the boy you like, who happens to be a vampire apparently, getting along…

Now it really feels like you’re in a different world.

The racket you make draws the attention of both men.

You freeze, giving them an awkward smile, “Hi, uh, did I, am I interrupting?”

“Just having a man to man chat with your prospective boyfriend here,” your father chuffs, slapping Jasper on the back.

Your face goes tomato red, “Dad!”

“Alright, alright,” he snickers, holding his hands up innocently as he backs into the kitchen, “I’ll let you kids have your fun.” Right before he slips away though, he gives you a not too subtle wink and whispers, “He seems like a keeper, sweetpea.”

You groan, wishing you could just melt into the floor. Mortified. You are absolutely mortified. Leave it to your dad to find the best way to embarrass you in a moment like this.

When you look back to Jasper, he’s giving you one of those wolfish grins, one dark eyebrow perked.

“And what do you think, darlin’,” he drawls, voice low and teasing, “am I a keeper?”

“I- You- Stop. No, I’m not answering that.” You trip all over your words, not quite able to make your voice steady. If only he’d stop looking at you that way. It’s hard to even think when he looks at you like that.

Jasper can’t help but soften at the completely flustered look on your face. Your heart is racing so fast, it almost worries him. Gently, he brushes his fingers along the small of your back, using his ability to sooth your frayed nerves as he leads you outside.

“I hope you’re not nervous about our date,” the blond murmurs, tone serious.

You sigh, fiddling with the hem of your blouse, “How could I not be?”

“It’s simple.” He traces his hand around your waist, bringing you to face him. You bite your lip, sight trained on your feet until Jasper places a finger under your chin, tilting your face up. You look at him, eyes so wide and doe-ish, his still heart melts. “You, darlin’, can do nothing to change my mind, so I don’t want you worryin’.”

You frown, heart fluttering, “Nothing?”

He traces his fingers along your cheek, his touch gentle and cool. You can’t stop your eyes from fluttering shut, another sigh passing your lips.

“Absolutely nothin’. I’m afriad I’ve already decided you’re a keeper.”

A snort escapes you. Just like that, the rest of your worries disappear. You peer up at him, trying to keep the smile off your face. You haven’t even gone on the date yet, but you’re already being swept off your feet. As if you weren’t swept off your feet on the very first day you met and every day after that.

“You, sir, are ridiculous.”

“You’re not nervous anymore,” Jasper points out cheekily.

You look down again as the smile finally breaks out across your lips, “No. Now I’m just wondering what else my dad said to you while I was getting ready.”

“Nothin’ much.” He shrugs, leading you over to his Ducatti. “Just that he’d string me up if I did anythin’ to hurt you.”

Of course. Your dad has always been a bit protective. He was probably joking…hopefully. Your brow furrows as a sudden thought hits you.

“Can you guys even get hurt?” You ask as Jasper passes you a helmet and a leather jacket.

“Not in the ways you may think,” he replies, “Most of what the world thinks is wrong.”

“So silver doesn't hurt you?”

“No.”

“Garlic?”

Jasper smirks, “No.”

“Sunlight?” That one, you’ve been wondering about. You’ve never seen the Cullens on a sunny day.

“Not quite,” he hums, climbing onto his bike.

You hop on behind him. “But it does affect you?”

Jasper purses his lips. He’s not sure he wants to admit to the whole sparkling thing. It’s not like you’d hate it, you had a strange pension for loving strange things after all. Like him. But maybe it can wait for another day.

So he settles with a small, drawn out, “It does…”

But you’re curious now, propping your chin on his shoulder with an innocently intrigued look, “How?”

The motorcycle suddenly revs to life under you, making you jump. Instinctively, you drop down to the seat and wrap your arms around the vampire’s waist. Jasper chuckles, the sound vibrating through his body so deeply you can feel it.

“Hold on tight, darlin’.”

You squeal as the bike takes off. Like all the Cullens, Jasper drives like a madman, going just a little too fast, taking turns like a drag racer. And even though you’ve ridden with him countless times, your pulse still races, your knuckles going white at his waist as you try to bring yourself as close as possible to him.

The forest blurs around you, turning into a canvas of green and brown smudges that you can barely make out as you fly down the street. It’s all but impossible to keep track of where you are, where you’re going, especially when a particularly sharp turn makes you snap your eyes shut and hide your face against his back.

You only dare peek out when the bike comes to a slow stop. Blinking the blur from your eyes, you let the world come back into focus, and what you see makes you gasp.

Part of you was expecting a simple dinner, like he said. A fancy restaurant maybe, humming with people and dimly lit. You were definitely not expecting a candle-lit picnic looking out over your town, the setting sun painting the sky with vivid reds and oranges. It makes the trees around you seem to glow, just like the candles scattering the ground around the thick blanket he laid out.

“How did you have time to do this?” You breathe, foot catching on the seat when you try to gracefully slip off of it.

Jasper catches you before you can go reeling into a tree, lips twitching with amusement, “My kind isn’t quite as limited by time as yours is.”

You give him a grateful smile, “So you’re fast?”

“Faster than a bullet, darlin’.”

“Wow. Okay, okay, then how about strength?” You lean towards him, all the questions that have been floating in your mind coming to the surface. “All the articles said vampires are, like, crazy strong. Could you lift me? Wait no-” Too easy. What’s something a really strong person couldn’t lift? “Could you lift the bike? Or a car?!”

“I could.” Jasper has to bite back a chuckle at the absolutely wide-eyed look you give him. It’s like a kid first discovering the world, disbelief and awe mingling in the air around you.

“That’s amazing,” you say, voice pitching up, “I can’t believe this. Any of this. It’s so beyond crazy.”

Jasper turns suddenly serious, drawing you close by the hand you didn’t realize he was still holding. You hesitate, mouth going dry at the proximity. His nose is practically touching yours and you can feel the coolness of his breath on your lips.

“Are you sure you want to be a part of this?”

Head tilting, you let your eyes linger on his face for the first time. You’ve never had the confidence to look, actually just look at him. He’s gorgeous. Dark brows, sharp jaw, and eyes like the sun setting behind him. Not a single blemish or wrinkle. And yet, you can read the concern written there with shocking ease. And the hope.

It makes your heart ache with something warm, knowing you both feel the exact same way about this.

You squeeze his hand, giving him the softest, sweetest smile, “I’m sure, Jasper. I know I should probably be scared, or at least freaked out, but, I don’t know, I’m just…not.” Your heart beats like crazy, making you feel almost nauseous as you finish, “You’re still you. And I’m still me. And I just, I think we’ll make a good we. I hope. So, I’m…I’m all in, Jasper. Is that okay?”

Jasper wishes he could drown in your timidly soft affection.

Tenderly, he raises your hand to his lips. It’s a ghost of a touch, like a brush of a cold breeze, leaving your skin tingling ever so pleasantly. His next words are a mere whisper against your skin.

“More than okay, darlin’. I’m all yours til the day I die.”

“Aren’t you unable to die?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“...good.”

The colors of the sunset did little to match the color on your cheeks as you sat down for the picnic. And the shine of the stars that come out cannot compare to the glitter in your eyes as you spend the whole night talking, asking questions, and sharing stories.

It may be the best first date you’ve ever had.

—-

Hope you guys liked this! I honestly didn’t know how to write the actual date part, so imagine what you will :) love y’all!

[searchingforgravity]

Missing You (Austin Butler x Reader)

Fandom: Austin Butler

Prompt: Austin is away shooting for his latest film, and you are missing him desperately. An innocent phone call quickly turns into something more heated as you tell him just how much you miss him.

TW: Smut, Phone sex, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, cussing

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Word Count: 1555

A/N: Hey everyone! I'm trying to write more Austin smut, and I've been wanting to do a phone sex one for a while, so enjoy!

You are going crazy without your boyfriend, Austin, at home with you. He has been away shooting for his latest film, and tonight you are missing him more than ever. You were feeling a little restless earlier that day, so you decided to watch a movie. When a particularly steamy scene started playing, you couldn't help but think about how Austin would touch you when you too were alone. How he would kiss every inch of your body as his hands danced over every groove and crevice. How he worshiped you, telling you how beautiful you were as he dipped his head down to kiss your breasts, kneeling in between your legs as he gently rubbed himself against you.

You are pulled out of your thoughts when your phone suddenly starts ringing, signaling that your boyfriend is calling. You pause the movie as you grab at your phone to answer. "Hey honey," you breathe, catching yourself off guard by the breathlessness in your tone. You clear your throat in an attempt to hide what you were just thinking of. "Hey sweet heart, what are you up to?" he asks, and you think you catch a sense of desperation in his voice. You subconsciously bite down on your bottom lip, his voice cause a sting of arousal to course through you. You adjust your position on the couch, trying to get comfortable.

"Just watching a movie...I miss you, Austin," you breathe as you pull your legs up to your chest. You aren't exactly planning on having phone sex with him, because you two had never done that before. Of course, you both have sent the other pictures when he would text you that he was particularly lonely, but you had never initiated it, until tonight.

You hear a slight pause on his end of the line, making your cheeks flush, your confidence starting to fail you. "I miss you too, baby," he says lowly as you hear him adjust his position slightly. Silence again. "W-What are you doing?" you question as you fidget with the remote, nerves coursing through you. "Just laying in bed, it's been a long day," he sighs and you hear a hint of sleepiness in his voice. "Oh, you can sleep if you want, we can talk tomorrow-" you start before he interrupts you. "No! I mean...I wanna talk to you, baby," he says as you hear him move around, maybe sitting up in bed. You smile at this, grateful that he doesn't want to hang up. "What are you watching?" he asks, drawing your attention back to your aching core.

You swallow as you look at the screen, having paused it right in the middle of the two characters having sex. Your cheeks flush as you look down, slightly embarrassed. "Uh...I'm watching this new movie called Lady Chatterly's Lover," you say quietly. He chuckles on the other end making you smile despite yourself. "You and your damn romance movies," he laughs. "It's good!" you defend yourself as you pick at the remote anxiously. "I'm sure it is," he teases on the other end. There is a slight pause again, and you can feel a tension in the air. You can sense that he wants something too. "It's really hot," you say quietly as you look back at the tv. "Is it?" he asks, his breath now more strained than before. "Yeah...It's making me think about you," you whisper now, your breathing shallow in anticipation. He pauses slightly, hesitating before he responds, "Tell me what you're thinking."

Another shock of arousal courses through you at this, his voice now deeper than before. You must've been quiet for too long because he speaks up again. "Honey," he hums into the phone. "Y-Yeah?" you ask, your cheeks now flushed a bright red. "Are you wet?" he asks in a groan. You can tell by his tone that this is getting him hard. He's tried to have phone sex with you before, but you've been too nervous, changing the subject when it started turning sexual. You pause only for a moment longer as you shift on the couch, rubbing your thighs together. "Yes."

"Talk to me," he pleads as you hear him shift on his end of the phone. "Tell me how bad you need me," he groans, and you can almost see him slipping his hand down to his boxers. Your cheeks flush slightly, but you decide you're too turned on to be bashful as you play with the edge of your pajama pants. "I need you so bad, Aus. I've been thinking about you all day. I just need your hands on me," you whine, making him moan into the phone. "Yeah? What would you want me to do if I was there?" he says lowly, his breath hitching slightly and you can tell he's palming himself through his boxers. You bring your own hand to your core through your pants and find that you had already started soaking through. You gasp at the feeling as you slowly start rubbing yourself through your pants. "I-I want you to feel how wet I am for you."

"Shit," he groans, his breath hitching, making you bite your bottom lip. "I'm so hard for you, baby," he groans, his impossibly hard cock now fully exposed as he strokes himself softly. You moan at this as you slip your hand underneath your pajama pants, finding your now swollen clit. "I wanna bury my face in that sweet pussy, you always taste so fuckin' good," he growls making you close your eyes as you imagine his fingers on you instead of your own. "I-I, shit, I need you around me. I've been thinking about you so much. How you feel when you're cumming on my cock. Jesus..." he trails as his breathing becomes more labored. "I wanna take you from behind, spank your ass for making me wait to have you. You want that, honey?" "Y-Yes, I need it, baby," you barely get out as your finger increases its pace on your clit, your head falling back against the couch.

"Are you touching yourself? Fuck," he groans deeply, spurring you on. A small whimper leaves your mouth as you plunge one of your fingers into your dripping cunt while the other continues its assault on your clit. You can only moan in response, words failing you. You hear another soft groan leave his lips as you hear his movements increase. "They're not as good as yours. Wish they were your fingers," you whine as you speed up your movements. "I know, baby. Pretend they are, t-touch yourself like I would," he stutters, and you can tell he's getting close. "Tease yourself," he moans, as he starts to slow down his movements as well, wanting it to last a little longer.

You do as he says as you slow down your movements, whining as you buck up into your fingers. "Austin," you moan, desperate for him. "I know, honey. Fuck, I wish I was there," he groans. You continue teasing yourself the way Austin would and close your eyes again, imagining him there. How he would kiss your neck as he slowly thrusts his fingers inside of you, making you practically cry for him. It turned him on so much knowing that he could bring you to that place, to have you begging for him. "Austin, please," you cry, now needing to speed up. You just need to cum. You gather that he's thinking the same thing as he relents, groaning at hearing you beg. "Okay."

You both speed up your movements as you chase your orgasm, now desperate for it. His name leaves your lips continuously as he moans. He loves hearing you so desperate for him. It's enough to make him orgasm alone. "Shit, baby," he moans urgently. "Me too, I'm so close," you whine, and hearing that has him hurtling off the edge. Hearing the strangled moans falling from his lips throws you right off the edge with him as you cry out in pleasure, your eyes clenching shut as you grab onto one of the throw pillows for dear life.

After a few moments, all either of you can hear is labored breathing as you both come down from your highs. You look back at the tv and almost laugh at how you got into this position. "God, I've wanted that for a while," Austin mumbles through the phone, his voice completely blissed out as you can almost see his swollen lips parted, his chest heaving with a sheen of sweat. You blush at this, knowing he has. "I'm sorry-" you start before he interrupts you "No, no! I didn't mean it like that," he soothes in a gasp, trying to catch his breath. "I-I know it's new for you, I just knew it would be hot." Your face flushes as you try catching your breath as well. You respond with a hum, agreeing with him as a small smile plays on your face. "I miss you so much, honey," he mumbles as you hear him getting up, probably to clean himself off. "I miss you too, Aus. Come back home to me," you whine, suddenly ice cold in your warm house, needing his body on you. "I will, baby, as soon as I can."

Masterlist

Tag List: @flowersofcement @horrorgirl4life @looloolily @peaceloveelvis @goldobsessionsworld @tantamount-treason @father-of-2cats

[oldiesstationlover11607]

Absolutely adore your work! It never fails to make my day <3

I was thinking a josh x drummer reader! Maybe they drum for a pop punk band so they're in similar scenes and josh has just been admiring and pinning for them, I don't have a specific era or anything in mind! Just something fluffy with the drummer boy <3

WWWY - Josh Dun x Iero!Reader

Warnings: none hehe

Word count: 1555

A/N: I've been watching all the WWWY videos and thinking about MCR and PTV a lot recently so here's a cute little fic about a pop punk drummer and Josh being at WWWY fest :)

The sun was setting behind the Las Vegas skyline, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple as I slid my drum sticks into my back pocket. We’d just wrapped our set on one of the smaller stages at When We Were Young Fest, and I was still riding the adrenaline high, my hands tingling from the final drum solo that I’d nailed—thank god. As the drummer for Neon Rebellion, I’d been dreaming of playing a festival ever since I first picked up a pair of sticks and plastered my bedroom walls with posters of all the bands who were now, somehow, my peers. It still felt surreal.

I wiped the sweat from my brow and grinned as I caught sight of a familiar face—my uncle Frank. He was talking to Mikey, and as I walked up to them, they both turned to greet me with warm smiles. Mikey gave me a little fist bump, and Frank pulled me into a quick, sweaty hug.

“Hey, Y/N, you killed it out there!” Frank said, his voice loud enough to carry over the hum of conversations and the distant echo of whatever band was rocking the main stage. “It’s so great to see you making music hun. You’re just like me!”

“Yeah, you guys sounded great,” Mikey added, nodding approvingly. “How’s it feel to finally play a festival?”

“It feels like a dream,” I admitted, brushing a strand of my damp hair out of my face. “I feel like I’m going to wake up in my room any minute now.”

“Nope, you’re definitely awake.” Frank grinned and ruffled my hair. “And you’re not going back to bar gigs anytime soon.”

I laughed and swatted his hand away. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right. This is just… huge. Thanks for all your support.”

He waved me off, looking almost embarrassed. “You don’t have to thank me. You did this all on your own, kid. We just knew you were gonna be a star.” He shared a proud look with Mikey, who nodded in agreement.

“Speaking of stars, though,” Mikey said, gesturing over my shoulder. 

I furrowed my brow and turned around, only to find myself locking eyes with someone I recognized immediately—even though I’d never met him in person before. My breath hitched, and for a second, I thought I was hallucinating because Josh Dun was walking toward us. Like, Josh freaking Dun. I must have looked like a deer caught in headlights because Frank chuckled under his breath and patted my shoulder.

Josh had this shy, nervous energy about him as he approached, his eyes flicking between me and my uncle, almost as if he was worried he was intruding on a family moment. His red hair stood out against the dark fest grounds, and he wore a faded band tee that I couldn’t quite make out. There was a nervous smile tugging at his lips, and it was like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with his hands—he shifted awkwardly for a moment before tucking them in his jean pockets.

“Hi, um… Y/N?” he asked, his voice a little hesitant, almost like he was testing out the sound of my name.

“Yeah,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady despite the fact that my heart was beating faster than the double-kick I’d just played on stage. “Hi.”

“I’m—well, I’m Josh,” he said, then laughed at himself. “Obviously. Sorry. I, uh, caught your set earlier, and I just wanted to tell you that you were amazing. Like, really amazing. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

I felt heat rising to my cheeks, and I cursed myself internally for getting flustered. “Oh, wow, thank you! That means a lot, coming from you. I’m a huge fan. Your band was one of the first that made making it seem possible to me.”

Josh’s smile widened at that, and I thought I saw a hint of relief in his eyes. “Really? That’s awesome. I actually, um… I’ve been following you guys for a while. You’ve got this insane energy on stage. It’s super cool.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that. Josh Dun, a drummer I’d idolized for years, was standing here, telling me that I inspired him. It was almost too much to handle, and I felt my mouth go dry. Mikey stepped in to ease the tension, giving Josh a friendly nod.

“Josh, good to see you,” Mikey said, extending a hand. Josh shook it quickly, and they exchanged pleasantries, but I barely registered their words because my mind was still reeling. I managed to glance at Frank, who gave me a knowing smirk before stepping back with Mikey to give us space.

“So,” Josh said after a moment, shifting a little closer. “I noticed you’ve got some pretty unique gear. You’re using custom cymbals, right? I thought I heard a different kind of tone during that breakdown.”

He leaned forward slightly, and suddenly we were deep in conversation about drum gear—the exact sizes of our snares, the brands we swore by, how to get the perfect tone for different genres. I told him how I loved experimenting with hybrid kits, and he shared how he modified his drum pads to get the right sound for live shows. We geeked out about drumming techniques, the struggles of keeping up with intense touring schedules, and even laughed about mishaps during sets.

At some point, Frank and Mikey wandered off, leaving us alone. The festival buzzed around us, the noise a constant backdrop to our conversation, but it felt like we were in our own little world. Josh was so easy to talk to—passionate and animated when discussing the intricacies of drumming, but gentle and attentive when he asked me about my experiences on tour.

“You know,” he said, after what felt like no time at all, “I’d love to catch some sets with you, if you’re up for it. There are a few bands playing tonight that I really don’t want to miss.”

“Yeah, that sounds fun!” I agreed, trying not to sound too eager. “Who do you want to see?”

“Well, My Chem are playing soon so we should definitely head there later,”” he said with a lopsided grin. 

My heart skipped a beat. “I’d love to,” I said, barely able to contain my excitement. 

We spent the next few hours wandering around the festival, squeezing through the crowd to get the best view of some of my favorite bands. Pierce The Veil, Sleeping With Sirens, Taking Back Sunday—it was like reliving my teenage dreams, but with Josh by my side. When the time came for My Chemical Romance, he guided me to the side stage, his hand brushing mine for a moment before we stepped into the chaotic world of backstage passes and crew members.

Frank saw us as we approached and shot me a teasing look. “So, Josh, you finally managed to pull her away, huh?”

“Frank!” I groaned, feeling my face flush, but Josh just laughed.

“She’s a tough one to impress,” he said, sending me a sideways smile that made my heart flip. “I had to pull out all the stops.”

“Good luck,” Frank said, winking at me before turning his attention back to the stage, where Gerard was getting ready to kick off the set.

I felt a flutter of excitement in my chest as Josh and I took our spots at the side stage, the bright lights from MCR’s setup casting long shadows across our faces. I’d seen them play a million times before, but something about watching from here, with Josh leaning close to make comments about the drum technique or to share an inside joke, made it feel completely new.

The set was electric, every song hitting me harder than the last. There was a moment during “I’m Not Okay” when Josh and I both looked at each other, grinning like idiots as we sang along at the top of our lungs. It was the kind of moment I knew I’d never forget.

As the last notes of “Helena” faded out and the crowd roared their appreciation, Josh turned to me, his eyes catching the dim lights of the stage. “So,” he said, a little breathless from singing and shouting, “can I… take you out for real sometime? Like, a date?”

I stared at him, feeling my heart hammering in my chest. “Yeah,” I said, almost too quickly. “I’d like that. A lot.”

“Awesome,” he said, grinning so wide that his eyes crinkled at the corners.

Before I could say anything else, Frank reappeared, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “Well, well, well,” he teased. “Looks like someone’s got herself a date with a rockstar.”

“Shut up,” I muttered, feeling a blush rise to my cheeks.

Josh just laughed, looking over at Frank with a playful expression. “Hey, you know what they say,” he said, nudging me gently. “It’s all about the drummers, right?”

“Right,” I said, feeling a warm glow in my chest as I looked back at him. “It’s all about the drummers.”

And as we stood there, watching the stage lights fade and the crew begin to break down, I felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be—right here, in the heart of the music, with Josh by my side.

//

REQUESTS OPEN

[the-fiction-witch]

Mr Crown P5

Media - Morbius Character - Lucien Crown Couple - Lucien Milo X OC Reader - (OC) Anastasia Morton (Assistant) Rating - 18 + Smut - Sex toy discussion / sexual launague Word Count - 1555

Lucien smiled as he felt her lean her head on his shoulder, her breath coming in small gasps as she tried to recover from the intensity of her orgasm. He loved the way she looked, her skin flushed, her eyes glazed over with desire. He took his hand from under her dress, bringing it to her chin and tilting her face up to his. "You're absolutely gorgeous, darling," he whispered, his gaze roaming over her face, taking in her flushed cheeks and the satisfied look in her eyes.

"I uh ... I assume I should arrange things for a visit to your new lodge?"

Lucien chuckled, his hand still holding her chin, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw. "You assume correctly, darling. I fully expect you to make all the necessary arrangements. I'll leave that in your very capable hands." He let his hand fall from her chin, his fingers trailing down her neck, his gaze fixed on her eyes. "And I have a few specific requests for what I'd like you to arrange," he added, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

she nodded sitting up and letting out a breath doing her best not to reveal what had happened, she grabbed a small notepad and pen from her purse "Yes sir?

"I have a few specific requests for the lodge. Firstly, I want it fully stocked with the finest food and beverages. I'm not talking about your average grocery store fare. I want the best of the best - the finest champagne, the most expensive whisky, the most exquisite caviar."

"yes sir," she nodded making a note on her pad "The lodge is in Canada so I could get it specifically stocked with specialist Canadian items? Or we can bill the import fees of us items over the border though crown transports our own internal company and thus not pay the actual fees"

Lucien nodded a satisfied smirk on his face. He was pleased that she was already thinking ahead and making detailed notes, as usual. "Good girl. I appreciate your attention to detail. Let's do both - stock the lodge with some Canadian specialities, and have our imports sent through Crown transports. We can certainly afford a few extra fees to ensure we get exactly what we want." He paused for a moment, his eyes roaming over her body, the way the dress clung to her curves.

she nodded "next request?"

Lucien allowed himself a moment to admire her body again before speaking, his mind already moving to his next request. "Next, I want the best entertainment. A top-of-the-line sound system, a state-of-the-art home cinema, and a library stocked with the best books and movies. I'm talking about the kind of entertainment that will make us never want to leave the lodge. And, I expect you to arrange for some... private entertainment as well," he added, his eyes glinting with something between mischief and desire.

she continues making her notes "Private entertainment sir?"

Lucien chuckled, his smirk widening at her question. He could see the blush spreading across her cheeks as she asked, and he knew she understood what he was talking about.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, darling," he said, his voice low and seductive. "I want the lodge to be equipped for... our intimate encounters. Make sure the rooms are well-appointed with the finest linens, the most comfortable beds, and the most romantic atmosphere."

she nodded slightly blushing "Outwardly equipped or ... Less obviously" she asked basically asking how openly he wanted the lodge stocked for their romantic stay, usually somewhere between candles, roses and hidden boxes of toys to well condoms on every surface, and a dungeon set up in one bedroom

Lucien chuckled, amused and aroused by her question. "Let's go with a mix of the two, darling," he said, leaning back in his seat one arm over the back of her chair. "I don't want it to be so obvious that just anyone could figure it out, but I do want it to feel personal and intimate like the lodge is designed specifically for us, and what we like to do together."

she nodded "next request?"

Lucien chuckled, enjoying the way she was following his instructions so obediently. He paused for a moment, thinking of his next request. "Next, I want the lodge to be secluded. I don't want any neighbours within miles, and I don't want any uninvited guests dropping by. Make sure all the security measures are in place - cameras, motion sensors, the works. I want it to feel like we have the entire lodge to ourselves."

she nodded as she knew the usual level of security for a properly Lucien actually used "anything else?"

Lucien shifted closer to her, his hand moving to her thigh, his fingers tracing circles on her skin through the fabric of her dress. He could feel the heat coming off her body, his mind already imagining all the things they could do in the secluded peace and quiet of the lodge. "Just one more thing, darling," he said, his voice dropping to a low, seductive purr. "And this one is more of a request for you personally." He leaned in closer, his mouth close to her ear, his breath hot against her skin. "I want you to bring your best wardrobe, darling," he whispered, his fingers moving higher up her thigh, his hand sliding under her dress again. "Pack all your most beautiful dresses, your most provocative lingerie, and anything else you think would... excite me."

"yes sir" she agreed "anything else?"

Lucien chuckled, his hand continuing to tease her through her dress, his touch becoming more brazen. “And your new jewellery. Incase I want to take you out and show you off. Or… I just want to see you in it,”

“Yes Lucien,”

"That's all, darling. You have your tasks - stock the lodge, arrange for transportation, and pack your wardrobe. Make sure everything is perfect for our stay at the lodge. I expect nothing less than excellence from you."

"awww Lucien" she cooed grabbing her phone and the folder of paperwork for the lodge confirming they owned it and all the details "This is what you pay me for" she smirked already getting to work in the middle of the gala

Lucien chuckled at her comment, admiring her ability to multitask. He knew he paid her for her efficiency and organizational skills, but he was still impressed by the way she could handle so many tasks at once. "That's true, darling," he agreed, his hand finally leaving her thigh as he leaned back in his seat to watch her work. "But don't think for a second that I don't also have you around for other reasons."

"do you?" She chuckled

Lucien smirked and leaned back in his chair, his eyes roaming over her body with an appreciative gaze. "Darling, you know very well that I have you around for a variety of reasons. Your organizational skills and efficiency are certainly valuable, but so are other... attributes which you possess." He let his eyes linger on her body for a moment, his gaze roaming over her curves and the way her dress hugged her figure.

she chuckled as she worked "When do you want to arrive at the lodge?" She asked so she knew the time frame she has to work with,

Lucien thought for a moment, his mind already picturing the two of them in the secluded, intimate setting of the lodge. "As soon as possible, darling. I want to get away from here and spend some time alone with you in that lodge as soon as I can." He paused for a moment, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "How quickly do you think you can have everything arranged?"

"I can... Have us leave by tomorrow morning?"

Lucien's smirk widened into a grin at her words. The thought of leaving so soon and having her all to himself was extremely appealing.

"Excellent.” He paused for a moment, his gaze roving over her body again, his mind already imagining all the things he could do to her once they were alone in the lodge.

she nodded already making arrangements on her phone with multiple people to ensure the place was set up, their bags packed, and everything was prepared with the plane

Lucien watched her work with a sense of satisfaction. He loved the way she managed to get things done quickly and efficiently, and he knew that she would make sure everything was perfect for their stay at the lodge. He couldn't help but feel a mixture of excitement and desire as he thought about the secluded, intimate setting of the lodge and all the things he was going to do to her once they were there. "You're doing a great job as usual, darling," he said, his eyes still roaming over her body as she worked.

She chuckled before hanging up her phone, “Got workers setting it up, Marshal is flying out in an hour to supervise with the card, he’ll leave when we land, The plane is set, everything is sorted other then our own packing,”

“You are magic you know that?”

“I’m good at what I do,”

“I know,” He nodded, “Come on, let's head back so we can… get cosy and prepped for our little getaway,”

“Yes Lucien,” She agreed giving his cheek a kiss before she got up to get organised for them to leave.  

Commissions here

[lifblogs]

Have You Heard of the Venomous Twirfang?

Day 6 of Neurodivergent Tech Week Prompt: Special Interest @neurodivergent-tech-week

Rating: General Audiences Word Count: 1555 Summary: Tech and Omega are repairing the Marauder, and Tech gets the chance to infodump about an animal he finds interesting. READ ON AO3

“Wait, does it really have one hundred teeth?” Omega asked with a delighted smile on her face, pressing against the crate before her, leaning in.

Tech looked over at her from where he was repairing the ship, a wonderful delight filling him at the thought that she was interested, that he was able to talk, and talk.

“Spanner?” he requested.

Omega handed it over in a flash.

“And yes, one hundred teeth,” he told her, imagining the large creature in his head. “Picture multiple rows of needles. The venomous twirfang has muscles just underneath the gums that it uses to gyrate the teeth, further shredding its prey.”

“Whoa. How do you know all this?”

Tech adjusted his goggles.

“I take special care in learning about the creatures in the galaxy. I find them fascinating.”

“So is the venomous twirfang aggressive?” Omega asked. “I mean, it must be since it has so many teeth, but does it only attack if provoked, or does it hunt?”

Tech smiled, a wonderful thrill filling his chest. “Oh, it hunts all right. Though, I will say I don’t quite understand why it has venom. The venom is only on the teeth, which by that point, you’re dead anyway. Perhaps to incapacitate its prey to make an easy meal for it—I know some snakes do something similar, or even constrict their prey to keep it still while they eat it whole. But I digress. The venomous twirfang could have possibly just had a useless trait from evolution. After all, most lifeforms have something like that.”

Omega was rifling through the tools, like she needed something to do with her excitement.

He handed her back the spanner, and asked for the solder.

She gave it to him, and he was soon fixing some faulty wiring that had been giving them trouble with life support.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Have you ever wondered why humans have an appendix?”

Omega put her elbows on the crate, her chin cupped in her hands, a thoughtful expression on her face that Tech was happy to see.

“Oh. Huh.”

“So, as I was saying, there are useless traits, which the venom might be one. Perhaps it helped at one point—hmm, maybe the teeth were smaller, or there were less of them. The mouth could have been smaller too.”

He straightened as an image of what the creature might have looked like thousands of years ago entered his mind. He pictured something smaller, slimier, maybe even without its four eyes.

Tech had the urge to find a data retrieval center so he could dig into this.

“Oh, perhaps there weren’t muscles under the gums!” he added.

“Do you have a holo of it?” Omega asked. “It sounds weird.”

He gave her a grin, and got back to the soldering work. “The word I would prefer to use is fascinating. And yes, I can show you after dinner”

“Sweet. So what else does it look like?”

“Well, picture a fish, but it has legs. Six of them.”

“Six?!”

“Yes. The large amount of legs is necessary to move its considerable, round mass across swampy land. The feet have thick webbing between the toes to help it not get stuck in the swamp.”

“What does it get out of living in a swamp?”

Tech couldn’t stop thinking, couldn’t stop smiling. Someone hadn’t asked him this many questions about his special interest in quite some time. To be fair, they were busy running from the Empire, but his mind was busy with this; always busy with something.

“It feasts on smaller predators, and some large prey. It blends in well with the landscape because of its green skin. I do believe it fits in the class of amphibian, actually. So it has slick, slimy skin.”

Out of the corner of his eye Tech saw Omega scrunch up her face in disgust, and he almost laughed.

“It tends to sit halfway in the water, halfway on land, waiting for its prey to approach unknowingly. When it moves towards prey it can move fast thanks to its six legs. They are deceptively long, letting it make leaps one wouldn’t expect.”

Omega fiddled with the welding torch, and— Oh no, Hunter would not like that.

He promptly took it from her, and put it on a crate on his other side. She gave him a disappointed look, but with a raise of his eyebrow she ended up letting out a huff, letting it go. He almost expected an eye roll, having seen similar expressions on lifeforms countless times through his recordings. The slight pinch to her eyes showed that she was just a hair from doing so, that she was resisting.

“The venomous twirfang mates by—” He glanced at Omega, a twelve-year old. Sure, she probably knew a bit about her own reproductive system at this point with puberty, but…

“Never mind,” he said, blushing slightly. Right, not everyone wanted to hear how creatures mated.

But it was so interesting! The venomous twirfang was able to change its sex to suit the needs of a potential partner. There was even documentation of males carrying the eggs. And there was at least one more documented sex, and a hypothesized fourth one, though those studies hadn’t been well corroborated seeing as, well… the top researcher had died getting too close during the mating (which was often violent).

He did his best to search through the catalogue that was his mind for something else to talk about regarding the venomous twirfang.

Ah!

“They have gills on their stomachs that let them breathe underwater during the long hours waiting for their prey.”

Omega started patting her own stomach, and he couldn’t help but find it highly adorable.

“Gills on the stomach,” she repeated, words punctuated with emphasis as she thought it over.

“Yes.”

“I wonder where humans would have gills if we needed them.”

“You’re not going to like that answer,” Tech immediately responded.

Omega leaned in again, so much so the crate tipped, and he held out a hand to steady her. She didn’t seem to notice.

“Oh?”

“Well, if we look at how gills work and how they need access to the lungs, and based on human metabolism, they’d be on the chest.”

Omega’s eyes widened and she looked at Tech’s chest, then her own, horrified.

“All over the chest, in fact. We would not have any free space. They’d be large for our blood supply.”

I wonder where the breast tissue and mammary glands would go then. Hmm… Perhaps the stomach in this case.

Omega shuddered, perhaps imagining what he was, and how gills looked when they were at work, the way they moved.

“Oh gosh, okay.”

“Would you prefer if I tell you how many lungs the venomous twirfang has?”

She nodded.

“Four. Usually it only has two lungs at work, but the other two act as reserve lungs for situations that require more oxygen in the blood, such as the rare times they chase after their prey, or are attacking something because of a perceived threat to their habitat. And mating,” he added. “It also helps with injuries. It has been documented that the venomous twirfang has been able to survive while missing two of its lungs, or with injury to two. If one of their lungs is infected with something or is decaying due to prolonged illness they can actually rework it through their body into their stomachs where they can purge it through the mouth.”

Omega’s eyes were wide. He hoped with wonder, because that was certainly what he was feeling.

“Wow,” she breathed. “That is the grossest thing I’ve ever heard.”

He paused in his work, gesturing at his chest. “Worse than the human gill thing?”

“Way worse.”

“Oh, um…”

“Cool.”

Tech inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.

It went on like that, Omega asking questions, Tech answering them, and they finished the repairs in a little under an hour.

She was helping him carry the crates of tools back into the ship, the sun setting, and Tech couldn’t help but feel not just a sense of accomplishment about a job well done, but something deeper, something special.

He was content. Actually, he was more than content.

During dinner at Cid’s place, everyone sitting around a table, and enjoying surprisingly lovely fried food that perhaps did not meet military nutritional standards, Hunter nudged Tech.

“You’re in a good mood.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Only you could be in a good mood from repairs,” Wrecker said.

Tech nodded because it certainly was true. He loved doing work like that, loved using his mind in a way that felt like he was delving deeper or stretching it, coming to new conclusions, new solutions, new thoughts, new ideas. It was invigorating, it was fun. But today it was more than that. He felt light, giddy, like he had released something and it was met with wonder.

“You get in a good mood from building explosives,” Echo pointed out.

“Yeah, of course I do,” Wrecker said. “Duh.”

“Well, it was more than the repairs,” Tech began.

Omega immediately put her food down, slammed both hands on the table (subsequently rattling their cups and plates), and stood, leaning towards all of them.

She asked, breathlessly, “Have you heard of the venomous twirfang?”

[lemoncrushh]

Cubicle // 5) Tonight

STORY PAGE

Word Count: 1555

Roni

I was barely in the door properly when I heard my ringtone chime. I hurriedly dropped my bag on the floor, pushed the door shut with my foot and grabbed my phone which displayed Harry's name.

"Wow, that was fast," I breathed.

"What do you mean?"

"Didn't you just leave work?"

"Actually, I haven't left yet," he explained. "I'm walking to my car as we speak."

"You model employee," I quipped.

"I wouldn't go that far." I could hear the smile in his voice. "But I wanted to get your address so I can put it in my phone."

After I gave it to him, he reminded me he'd be here at eight. As I hung up, I felt the butterflies begin to flutter in my stomach and I got goosebumps. Not from nerves per say, but from a slight release of sexual tension, knowing that I was finally getting a chance to be alone with Harry.

I stripped off my clothes in the bedroom and turned on the shower, stopping for a moment to look at my reflection in the mirror. I'm not vain, but I'm proud to say I like my body. I wouldn't consider it perfect, but I've worked hard to keep it fit and toned. I have curves like any woman, and I'm not ashamed to flaunt them.

In the shower, I lathered up my body head to toe, imagining the places I might just let Harry touch this evening. I ended up getting myself quite worked up but decided against going any further with my own fingers. I wanted to reserve myself for Harry. I shaved my legs and underarms thoroughly, as well as the edges of my pubic area. Some people like to shave it all, but that's just never been my cup of tea. It makes me feel prepubescent and a little too Lolita-ish.

I dried off with a towel and walked back to the bedroom, examining the contents of my closet. I had decided not to stress previously over what I would wear tonight. Last minute decisions tend to work best for me. I pulled out a little black dress that I adore with a swing skirt and spaghetti straps. Harry hadn't told me where we were going, and I hadn't asked, but I figured this little number would work with just about any scenario, not to mention drive Harry crazy.

I grabbed from my drawer the only undergarment I would need, a black lace thong. Then I slipped the dress over my head and stepped into my favorite black heels. I applied my make-up the way I always do. The guy sees me at work every day, there's no sense is shocking him with a clown face. Then I curled my hair only slightly at the ends with my flat iron, letting the tendrils fall softly on my shoulders. Finally, I dabbed a little bit of perfume on my wrists, behind my ears, and down my throat to the bottom of my cleavage. Taking one last look in the mirror, I smiled at myself.

Harry

The truth is, I was a nervous wreck. I've never been this nervous before a date. I'm always so cool, calm and collected, but something about Roni is different. I don't know, it's as though she's got my head spinning. On the way to her place, I stopped at the florist. Something tells me Roni's not your typical red rose girl, so I opted for a bouquet of stargazers that smelled amazing.

I stopped my car in front of her building and made my way up the stairs to her flat. My palms were sweaty, so I quickly wiped them down the front of my jeans, rotating the flowers in each hand. Then I took a deep breath and knocked on her door. Seconds later, Roni opened it, standing before me like a Playboy model in the hottest little dress she could have possibly worn. I felt myself salivate and I temporarily lost my speech.

"Good evening, Harry," she smiled, breaking the ice. "Don't you look handsome."

I let out a breath and blinked. "Thanks. You look beautiful." My voice was raspy and barely audible.

"Thank you," she said as she looked down at her dress. "I hope this is okay."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I let slip out before thinking. With her eyes wide open, I apologized. "Sorry, it's just...you look incredible."

Her eyes then twinkled as she smiled and beckoned me inside. I stepped into the open living area as she shut the door behind me. Everything was a palette of white on dark wood, with splashes of black and light blue. It was all very calming.

"Oh!" I exclaimed when I remembered the flowers. "These are for you."

Another sexy grin grew slowly across her face as she took the bouquet from me and sniffed them.

"How'd you know, Harry?"

"Are they your favourite?" I asked.

With a wink she turned slightly to the right and revealed a stargazer lily tattoo on her left shoulder. Of course, I had never seen it before because her work attire covered it up.

"What are the odds?"

"It's fate," she declared as she turned around and headed towards the kitchen. "Just let me put these in some water, and we can go."

I internally cheered to myself, proud that I not only had gotten something right, but I'd been dead on. Roni returned with the flowers in a tall clear vase. She sat them down in the center of the coffee table and grabbed a small handbag that was sitting near the edge.

"Ready?"

"After you," I nodded and gestured toward the door.

Roni opened it and I followed her back into the hall, waiting while she locked up. I let her walk ahead of me down the stairs, mostly so I could watch her. Fuck, she's so gorgeous. I knew I would have a hard time keeping my hands to myself tonight. I already wanted to touch the skin that I had no doubt was incredibly soft. Even the click of her heels on the wooden stairs was erotic.

When we reached the bottom, I opened the door for her and led her out to my car. When I held the car door, she said thank you and as she brushed past me, I got a whiff of an intoxicating aroma. I groaned as I walked around to my side. As soon as I got in, I glanced over at her legs. Just like my fantasy, only this time her skirt wasn't tight. The way it flowed actually showed more of her legs and it was hot as hell. Possibly catching me gawking, she adjusted her dress, but not so it showed less skin. Bless her.

"So where are we going, Harry?" Roni inquired as I turned the key.

"La Colombe d'Or," I answered in my best French accent.

All I heard was silence so I turned head towards her. Her eyes were huge and her jaw was open.

"Is that okay with you?" I asked.

"Well, yeah, but...Harry," she began and then dropped her voice, "It's so fancy. And...expensive."

"So what? You're not worth it?"

I looked at her again and she gave me the cutest puppy dog eyes. Then she sat back in her seat, resting her head against the headrest with a satisfied look on her face.

Roni

I think the whole idea of keeping a man waiting is total bullshit. He's asked you out, he's coming to pick you up. The least you can do is be ready when he gets there. So I was just sitting on the couch watching the telly when Harry knocked on the door.

My heart almost burst out of my chest like in a cartoon when I saw him. He was dressed in black jeans, a shirt that was such a dark blue it almost appeared black, and a black jacket. His shirt was unbuttoned to the middle of his chest and for the first time I noticed he had tattoos there. I couldn't tell quite what they were yet, but I was determined to find out.

The best part was the way he looked at me. I could tell the dress had been a good decision. When I invited him inside, he handed me the flowers he had been holding. Stargazer lilies are my absolute favourite. So far, this date was going splendidly.

I knew he was checking out my ass on the way down the stairs. I can tell he does that a lot at work too, but I don't mind. When he opened the car door for me, I made sure I touched his arm as I got in. Then I adjusted my dress but not too much. Harry liked what he saw, and that knowledge gave me tingles everywhere.

When I'd asked him where we were going, I was not expecting the answer he gave me. La Colombe d'Or! It's French for The Golden Dove. A super swanky restaurant that I've only been to once with my ex, Roland. Ugh, why did I have to think about him? No, he's no Harry. I can tell that much already. I sat back in my seat, ready for the evening to officially begin.

A/N: Sorry these early chapters are so short. I didn't really write long chapters back then. I usually wrote blurbs that were around the same length, but I never kept up with the word count lol. I think as the story moves along, the chapters get longer.

MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK

[messierthanthou]

Like I said in prev post, Lae'zel using mage hand to finger Shadowheart, so please, enjoy

Aching Night

Rated E, Shadowzel, mage hand stuff happens, 1555 words

Shar guide her, for she is surely going to hell for this. For these thoughts. These urges.

As Shadowheart lays on the bedroll inside her tent, shrouded in darkness, they come to her, uninvited. Images of Lae’zel flourish in her mind, and even as she tries to pray, to push it all away, they persist. The gith’s strong, slender body haunts her, those yellow sharp eyes follow her, that witless tongue speaks her name.

There’s no escaping it as she tosses and turns in bed, landing on her back she throws off the covers that trap the heat of her body that grows hotter by each second - by each concerning thought.

It is unbecoming how butterflies swarm her stomach at the mere idea of the gith’s touch, however rough or gentle it be. Would she grab her by the wrists and hold them above her head as Lae’zel fingered her senseless? Would that long tongue of hers be finally put to good use? How it might feel swirling her clit, entering her pussy, eating her out like it’s a last meal.

Hells, this isn’t helping! She needs to cool down, and the lake nearby camp seems a fitting respite.

Towel in hand she wanders the few feet to the lakeside, every light in the camp extinguished but her darkvision guides her easily and silently through it all.

Shadowheart stops before the lake’s edge, strips till she’s all nude, lets her hair down where it grazes near her buttocks, then enters the body of water, sighing gently as the coolness caresses her heated body, the relief immediate.

She moves in deeper till her body is consumed, her chin just above the water, her hair floating behind her like a cape of raven black. Eventually Shadowheart finds her way to the rocks by the edge, leaning against them, and another sigh falls from relaxed lips. This was sorely needed, and while those thoughts remain behind closed eyes, the cold water manages to wash them out ever so slightly till they’re barely more than a reflection in the waves.

“You,” an all too discouragingly familiar voice says, and Shadowheart meets Lae’zel’s burning gaze.

“You,” she responds with in turn.

“Leave, now.”

“You don’t own the lake, Lae’zel, I am free to come and go as I please.”

“Chk, you wish to fight me on this when your precious Tav isn’t around to save you from my torment?”

“Every second with you is torment, whether Tav is here or not.” Shadowheart can only hope that the darkness shrouds the growing blush on her face as she starts to realize that the gith must be naked, too.

But the way Lae’zel’s furrowed brow smooths out is not all that promising of what she does and doesn’t notice in the moonlight. And when she steps closer, Shadowheart tries to back up, but the rocks keep her in place.

“You say that like this torment is unacceptable, and yet I have seen you looking at me with lidded eyes, and I will admit, your scent intrigues me.” She closes in on the half-elf. “This little dance we do, you don’t find it… enticing?”

“Macabre, more so than intriguing, and you must have seen wrong; how could anyone look at a gith with desire?” Shadowheart bites but the other woman just smiles, and it is equally worrying and electrifying.

“You say that, and yet I can sense your heartbeat, see how the blood rushes to your face, and that fire in your eyes. You’re aroused.”

She is. Greatly even. This soldier before her lights an unwanted fire in Shadowheart’s cunt, and as much as she desires her, so does she despise her.

“You want a taste. To feel my lips against yours, our bodies pressed together, a flesh-bond. Very well, I shall give it to you, for I, too, pine for the body I so relentlessly think about.”

“You talk too much,” Shadowheart whispers in the seconds it takes for their lips to meet, as she brings a hand up to grab Lae’zel by the neck and pull her in.

And the gith isn’t slow to respond, as she pries the other’s lips apart with her tongue to invade Shadowheart’s mouth, who in turn moans at the taste of her spit.

“You must keep quiet,” Lae’zel hisses, “We can’t have anyone hear you.”

“Then make me quiet,” the Sharran demands, although it sounds more like an invitation, and their lips clash together again.

The fighter grabs both of Shadowheart’s wrists in one strong hand and pins them above her head, against the rocks, and one would think she had read the half-elf’s mind about this earlier, as she practically quivers under the restraint and has to fight back another moan.

Beneath the surface of the water that keeps their bodies hidden from each other, she feels how the gith presses against her, separating her legs with a persistent thigh that then grinds against her throbbing clit, and again, Shadowheart fights a most pleasured sound from erupting.

Together they find a rhythm that suits them both, rubbing together in harmony, but it’s not enough.

The half-elf tears her lips away from Lae’zel’s demanding kisses, and whispers with restraint, “Touch me.” She would be embarrassed at how needy she sounds if she wasn’t instead so horny.

“Chk, so ungrateful for what I already give,” the gith snaps in turn, but doesn’t look as offended as she sounds.

In fact, the way she stares seems to be almost with interest.

And that’s when Shadowheart feels it, a hand pressing against her pussy instead of Lae’zel’s own thigh. 

“Remember, keep quiet.”

With their eyes locked together, a single ghostly finger enters her, elevating her breathing till she’s near silently gasping for air, and she bites down on her lower lip, huffing through her nose. The gith smiles like she’s won something, then starts thrusting with the mage hand, and if it wasn’t for her hand holding Shadowheart up, she’d have succumbed to her weakening legs.

With every thrust of that single finger, it gets harder and harder to keep eye-contact, but the cleric worries that Lae’zel would vanquish the hand if she closed her eyes or looked away, as if they’re in a staring contest.

She exhales hard, takes a big gulp of air, then bites down again, regaining some composure, but just then a second finger slides in and joins the thrusting below. It takes all in her not to moan out in ecstasy as the mage hand continues to fuck her thoroughly, its thumb starting to massage her clit, making her squirm.

“I wonder how long you can last like this, before giving in to your most carnal desire and cumming with such simple touches,” Lae’zel speaks as if completely unaffected by what they’re doing- what she’s doing. “You will have me tonight, and then, when the time is right, I will have you.”

A third finger joins, and as heat builds up to a boiling point, her brows knit together, she closes her eyes for a mere moment longer than just a blink, and the hand between her thighs adds a fourth finger. It burns, the sensation of being split open like this hurts so deliciously, she can’t fight the yelp that comes out. 

And in response the gith leans in to bite at Shadowheart’s lower lip before kissing ferociously, making her head knock against the rocks behind her.

“I told you to keep quiet. If you can’t, we will stop this.”

By instinct, with an urge to pull Lae’zel closer again, the cleric struggles against the hand that holds her back, leans in for another kiss, but the gith dodges out of the way with a near evil smirk, ever so pleased with the whole situation.

But she gives Shadowheart what she wants, kisses her, uses her long tongue to keep the other’s under control, tasting her and humming pleased tunes.

The stretching ache of the half-elf’s cunt doesn’t subside, as the thrusts grow tenacious and unyielding in the finger’s pursuit of her climax. A chase that comes to a rather abrupt but overwhelming end, as everything that touches Shadowheart makes her nonsensically overjoyed. And like a fire it roars throughout her body, making her clench down on the fingers that persist in their thrusting and fucking of her cunt, letting her ride out the euphoria at a punishing pace that makes it feel like she’s been cumming for minutes before the hand stops and vanishes, leaving an emptiness in her body she didn’t expect.

As she slowly returns to this realm, her body relaxing after a high she can’t remember ever having felt before, she notices just how gentle and almost kind Lae’zel’s kisses have grown, before she slowly pulls away, releasing her wrists and removing her body heat entirely from the other woman.

Shadowheart is speechless, but even if she had the words for it, she might not have the strength, as she gasps for air and rests against the rocks, her legs barely keeping her standing.

“Regain your strength, Shadowheart, for come one night soon, I will seek you out, and I will let you taste me again. The anticipation will be… delicious.” And with that said, the gith turns around and leaves the still quaking half-elf to her own.

[queenmarytudor]

Hello ! I was wondering on what is your take on the false pregnancies of Mary Tudor . Do you think that she had a miscarriage early on her pregnancy? Or do you think it was an actual phantom pregnancy.

I tend to think she had an early miscarriage in 1555 that manifested as a phantom pregnancy for a few reasons.

It's shown in various different sources that Mary is reluctant throughout her 'pregnancy 'to confirm it's real.

An English ambassador told the Emperor in November that Mary "will not confess the matter until it is proved to her face" and it's only around Christmas Mary acknowledges that "As for that child which I carry in my belly, I declare it to be alive.” Carole Levin points out it's a strange word choice and I agree.

The biggest piece of evidence is at the beginning of May in my opinion. When the court are awaiting her child's birth, it's recorded that "according to her count it would not be strange if her delivery were to be delayed until the 6th of June."

Mary herself seemed to think she was a month behind her pregnancy then everyone else and there must be a reason for that.

We know she was recorded as being ill in mid September: "I have noticed her feeling sick (or seen her being sick) besides which her doctor has given me positive assurance, saying that if it were not true all the signs described by physicians would prove to be fallacious." I don't find it hard to believe Mary found herself nauseous and bleeding and thought it was a late period (it's well known she suffered badly with menstruation) or an early miscarriage, while her optimistic ladies and doctors handwaved it all away as usual symptoms of pregnancy, which are real and common.

With the altered hormones in Mary's body it would lead to her still producing pregnancy symptoms for a while (you can still produce them several weeks after miscarrying). I think this is likely what led her to later believe she was pregnant after all, but due after everyone else expected.

It's 9 months from October to June, when Mary believed she was due...

This is all my personal theory, but to me this explains her initial unsurety, the peculiar wording declaring she's not just pregnant but the babe in her belly is "alive", and her miscounting the dates compared to everyone else.

As for the 1557/8 I'm less sure of that just because there's hardly any information about it. It seems again Mary, despite her portrayal in media, was not certain of the pregnancy because she delayed informing Philip until what she thought was the seventh month.

[i-did-not-mean-to]

FOTFICtember - Chapter 3

A roller-coaster ride, a mushy hotdog, and a surprise in a maze...

@mysandwichranaway is working on some art for this fic! Stay tuned!

Prompts: Twilight, corn maze, lantern, mushrooms, sweater weather, amber

Pairing: Ori x OC, Bilbo x Thorin, Fíli x OC, Kíli x Tauriel

Words: 1555

Warnings:Some indecent kissing, some general anxiety, Thorin is an ass

Ori had half-expected that it had all just been a bad joke.

Yet, when he reached the small group standing, as promised, by the food carts to grab a tiny bite to eat, his own hotdog almost got stuck in his throat as Fíli waved a bunch of shiny, colourful tokens in his face.

“I’ve taken the liberty of buying the first round,” he declared and handed Ori one of the plastic coins.

The rollercoaster itself was a miserable, rickety affair that might not have stood a chance in hell to be ridden in a more elaborate setting.

As it was this small fair’s only attraction, though, the queue seemed to be endless.

Catching a glimpse of a beautiful, dark-haired girl he’d been begging to go out with him a few rows ahead of them, Fíli excused himself hastily and started pushing through the throng of people ruthlessly.

“Ah! Well…” Kyra mumbled.

“He really did mean it when he said that he wanted to show you a good time,” Kíli assured her. “He might just not do it himself.”

Sucking her teeth, Tauriel reached over to take the young woman’s hand and squeeze it comfortingly. “I’ve got you, girl. You can ride with me—I want to see how they jam their fat asses onto the tiny bench.”

“Ey…I thought we were going to make out throughout the whole ride?” Kíli protested, spearing Ori with that steely look he’d inherited from his mother.

“Yes, erm, yes,” Ori waffled, aghast to realise that he’d forgotten all his words when he needed them most. “If that would be agreeable, I’d be honoured to ride with you, of course.”

When she turned to him, black eyes sparkling with mirth, he swallowed heavily. Kyra had always been so disarmingly beautiful, and he’d never found the courage to tell her.

Year after year, summer after summer, he’d sworn to his friends and himself that, next time, he’d ask her to go to the local ice cream parlour or walk the maze with him, but he never had.

And then, she’d stopped coming.

It had taken him months to work up the courage to ask Bilbo about it, and the answer had been less than heartening, so he’d let it be.

As he now shuffled onto the uncomfortably hard bench of the creaking wagon beside her, he could hardly believe that she’d returned at long last.

“I don’t think you remember me,” he started quietly, interrupted by the screeching of the brakes being loosened and the lurching start of the ride.

“Nonsense,” Kyra chuckled. “It took me a mere second to place the name. You’ve grown up well, I must say.”

“How do you mean?” Ori asked, horrified to hear that his voice was not unlike the squeaking of the worn rails beneath them.

“Forget it,” she grinned and turned her pale, radiant face into the fading light as they started the jerky ascent to the laughably low apex of the woefully short track.

Ahead of them, Kíli and Tauriel were cheering and laughing as they sped downhill, exchanging messy kisses in between exaggerated hoots.

“Hold on tight; this might be a bumpy ride,” Ori warned.

When she gave him a slightly panicked look, he slung his arm around her body and pulled her closer against his own. “Hold on,” he repeated.

Nothing could have prepared him for the fact that, instead of grabbing the ramshackle handlebar, she’d throw her arms around his torso and bury her face in the crook of his neck.

As much as he’d not wanted to go on the ride in the first place, Ori now desperately wished that their shabby wagon would never stop grinding along the rails.

Kyra was soft and warm against him, and the smell of her perfume made him feel as if he’d grow wings himself to fly into the darkening evening sky never to come down again.

Twilight was upon them, and lights flared up across the landscape like mysterious mushrooms—it would soon be time to set out for the bonfire.

Despite his better knowledge, Ori wondered whether Kyra would let him hold her again even after they’d left this hellish contraption.

“You exaggerate,” Ori heard Fíli say. Only then did he notice that they’d stopped.

The grumpy teen operating the ride looked at them with bored impatience and evident incredulity.

“Come on out, Uncle will kill us if we’re not there to canoodle in his maze,” Fíli added, holding the hand of the fair maiden he’d so indefatigably wooed proudly.

“Bombur is cooking,” Tauriel interjected. “Save your money and your gut health! Don’t waste either on more of the trash they’re selling here!”

“Oh, I know,” Kyra laughed breathily. “Bilbo has been baking for days—I’m looking forward to sampling his creations.”

Thus, they set out towards the forest, only to come up short at the entrance of a corn maze.

“We’ve lost the organisers in action,” Bofur informed them with a wink. “Take a lantern and go on your merry way! Two by two, please. Otherwise, it’s no fun.”

This time, there was no question about how they’d split up.

As soon as they were off, though, Ori couldn’t help but notice that Kyra was rubbing her arms while walking rather fast.

“The weather’s turned, huh?” he said sheepishly.

“Sweater weather,” she agreed, her full lips somewhat pale.

As pretty as her sundress was, it did little to keep the biting chill in the air at bay. Thankfully, Ori’s brothers insisted on him being wrapped up like an egg about to hatch at all times, so he shrugged out of his jacket to take off his thick, woollen pullover.

“Take this—we don’t want you to catch your death out here. It will be warmer by the fire,” he said hastily, afraid that he was crossing a line.

He should not have worried for Kyra took the garment gratefully and slipped into it at once—she looked painfully adorable as she was nearly swallowed by the oversized item hanging from her curvaceous frame.

“You’re a true gentleman,” she praised with a small, soft smile, and took his hand to pull him on.

The lanterns they’d been given were detestably dim and weak to avoid and prevent any potential fire hazard, so it was slow going.

More than once, they found themselves turned around and cornered, but—chatting amiably about old times—they didn’t mind retracing their steps and losing their time at all.

Suddenly, a strange noise made Ori still, trying to push Kyra behind him as he lifted their sorry excuse of a light source higher.

“Your eyes are liquid amber,” she gasped, evidently unfazed by the odd smacking sound coming from a corner plunged in deep shadows. “You’re so handsome!”

“My…what? Who goes there?” he called, feeling fiercely protective of the cheery woman for whom he held himself responsible until he could return her to her uncle’s care. He’d heard enough horror stories about the terrible things that could befall sweet creatures such as her in dark, secluded corners.

He’d not let anything happen to her, he vowed, desperately trying to push aside her last comment lest it distract him fatally from the situation at hand.

A moment later, the very uncle he’d been thinking of appeared, dishevelled and flushed.

“Uncle Bilbo?” Kyra gasped. “What has happened to you? Are you quite all right? You look a little…put out.”

“All is well,” Bilbo assured them. “Are you enjoying the maze?”

To make matters even more confusing, he was joined by Thorin—looking just as red-faced and unkempt—a second later.

“We were just checking…if everything was safe.”

“And is it?” Kyra asked in a strained voice before she burst into laughter. “I truly believed that the canoodling part Fíli mentioned was but a figure of speech, but…who am I to doubt the validity of your beliefs?”

Without further ado, she whirled around and planted a resounding kiss onto Ori’s half-open mouth.

“Whatever Gods or spirits you pray to tonight, I hope that they’ll hear my earnest wishes as well. Did I do this right?” she crowed in boundless hilarity.

Rubbing his forehead in embarrassed exasperation, Bilbo gave a long sigh. “You wild, headstrong child!” he chided. “What did you think these cul-de-sacs were for?”

“We have no time to lose,” Kyra replied with a shrug. “Our friends are waiting, and I’m starting to feel quite peckish.”

Ori, meanwhile, merely stood there—thunderstruck and silent—like an oaf. She’d simply kissed him, square on the lips, as if there was nothing to it, and he couldn’t wait to see if she’d do it again.

Bonfires were romantic, right? They could huddle for warmth on a nice log, and he could put his arm around her.

Emboldened and set aflame by her enthusiasm and generosity, he graciously agreed not to tell anyone about what they’d witnessed, and they went on their merry way once more.

“Shame,” Ori heard Bilbo say. “I’ve heard there was quite a lump sum in their betting pool.”

“I know,” Thorin chortled. “I say we take the pot and go on a nice holiday together.”

“What day did you choose?” Bilbo asked tersely.

“Tonight. And you?”

“Tomorrow!”

They both laughed heartily, the sound following the two youngsters until Ori finally glimpsed the exit ahead.

↳ Masterlist

@fellowshipofthefics here's the third chapter of my fic for September!

Lots of love from me! <3

[sophie-hatter-jenkins]

A collection of Hinny-centric drabbles, microfics and one-shots written for the Ginny Lovers Discord server 5-Year Ginnversary Bingo game.

Chapter 12 - Happily Ever After

Ginny's had a tough couple of days, but her very own Prince Charming is on hand to welcome her home.

Rating - Mature (because Ginny has a foul mouth when she's hungry)

Read on AO3 from the beginning or continue below the cut for the latest chapter (1555 words)

Ginny Potter was tired. Bone tired. She hadn’t exactly been thrilled to be covering the Arrows away fixture against Portree in the depths of the February winter in the first place, but to have it then turn into an eighteen hour feat of endurance where the snitch seemed determined to hide from the relentless sleet and gale force winds really took the biscuit.

Bolstered by warming charm upon warming charm, and what felt like buckets of hot tea, Ginny had powered through. But, by the time she’d finished her post-match interviews (during which more than one of the exhausted players actually fell asleep over the press conference table), she’d already missed two nights of bedtimes, and was at perilous risk of missing a third. 

Being away from Harry and the kids wasn’t something she enjoyed at the best of times, but right now, it felt especially awful. Albus was only a few months into Muggle primary school and seemed to be struggling to adjust; Lily had suddenly morphed from a happy-go-lucky toddler into the world’s most clingy preschooler; and then there was James. James, as usual, seemed perfectly fine, sailing through life in a blaze of noise and chaos without a care in the world. Perversely, that made Ginny worry about him even more. It was always so obvious when something was bothering Albus or Lily that Ginny couldn’t help but worry it would be so easy to overlook it when something was bothering James. 

Ginny was self-aware enough to know that her concerns about James weren’t rooted in reality; they stemmed entirely from an (un)healthy dose of mummy-guilt. How could she, raised in a countryside idyll, by the world’s most capable and present stay-at-home mother, possibly choose to bring up her own family in the middle of a city while pursuing not one but two consecutive careers that involved long stints away from her babies? Not that anyone had ever said that to her, of course. No, Ginny simply imagined that she could hear it in every comment about her professional success, or enquiry about the health of her children. Or maybe she didn’t imagine it at all - the wizarding world could still be extremely conservative on many topics, including that of working mothers.

Sighing, Ginny left the press tent and apparated onto the top step of Grimmauld Place. Inside, the house was quiet, but the warm lamplight and cosy decor that had replaced the unrelenting gloom she remembered from her teens immediately relaxed her. It felt so good to be home - and according to the clock on the wall, she’d made it back just in time to kiss her babies goodnight. 

She hung up her thick winter cloak in the alcove by the door and swapped her boots for a pair of fluffy slippers, then padded up the stairs in search of her family. 

As she reached the first floor landing, she became aware of a low, soothing voice, coming from the drawing room. She adored that voice; deep and calming and so full of love. Moving close to the door, she realised that Harry was reading a story. The door was open, so she leaned against the frame, drinking in the scene inside the room.

Harry was sitting on the sofa facing the fireplace, levitating a large book just in front of him, using his wand to turn the pages. Lily was on his knee, snuggled against his chest, while James and Albus had taken up positions on either side of him, leaning in close and staring at the book’s illustrations in rapt attention. All four of them were underneath an old blanket she recognised as the one that used to adorn her bed back at the Burrow. On the coffee table in front of them were four mugs, bearing the telltale marks of chocolatey lips that indicated hot cocoa all round.

Ginny recognised the book as an anthology of Muggle fairy tales that had been James’s first Christmas gift from Hermione. In truth, Ginny loved these stories as much as the kids, much preferring them to the wizarding tale of her own childhood. She wasn’t sure why. Perhaps seeing magic through the eyes of people to whom it was something extraordinary reminded her of just how privileged she really was. 

As spellbound as her children, Ginny listened while her husband recounted the tale.

“...so it happened that the king proclaimed a great ball to be held at the castle. All the young girls in the land were invited, so that his son could select a bride for himself. When the two stepsisters heard, they were in high spirits. 

They called Cinderella, saying, "Comb our hair for us! Lace our ball gowns! Polish our shoes!”

Cinderella obeyed, but wept, because with her faded dress and worn shoes, she knew she couldn't go with them.”

Ginny allowed Harry’s voice to soothe her as he continued to read, about the fairy godmother, the pumpkin and the glass slippers. Albus looked morbidly fascinated when the sisters cut off their toes to squeeze their feet into the shoe. James made a retching noise to signal his feelings about True Love’s Kiss. Lily remained completely silent, her eyes wide and unblinking, a sure sign that she was fighting to stay awake. Finally Harry reached the end of the story, and the spell was broken. 

“Can we have another story, Daddy!” clamoured James.

“Yes! Yes! Another!” chimed Albus.

“Wannanother‘un, Dada!” added Lily, sleepily.

“No more stories!” laughed Harry. “It’s bedtime for all of you. Come on up the stairs now please.”

“Ah, Daddy! Please!”

Smiling, Ginny decided it was time to intervene. “Daddy is quite right. It’s time you three were tucked up in bed.”

Four pairs of eyes, brown, green and hazel, swivelled to the doorway, and within moments, Ginny was almost bowled over as three small children hurled themselves at her with a loud chorus of “Mummy!”, closely followed by their father.

“Hi, you,” said Harry, dropping a quick kiss onto her lips. “We missed you.”

“Hi, yourself,” she smiled, bending down to gather Lily up onto her hip. “It’s good to be home. Shall we get these gorgeous little urchins upstairs?”

Harry shot her that lopsided grin that still made her heart skip, and between them, they ushered the children up to the bathroom. Harry supervised tooth brushing while Ginny wrangled Lily into her pyjamas, and before long, all three junior Potters were snuggled in their beds.

Lily and Albus were fast asleep within moments, but James hung on a little while longer, begging Ginny for a blow-by-blow account of the match in Portree, which, she suspected, was just an excuse for more cuddles with Mummy. It wasn’t, she decided, any kind of hardship to indulge him while he drifted off to sleep.

Ginny lingered at her eldest son’s bedside for several minutes after his breathing became deeper and more even, marvelling at his messy red-brown curls, long lashes and freckled cheeks. Eventually a shadow fell across the bedroom floor, and she realised Harry had come to check on them.

Quietly, she slipped away from James’s side, closing the door softly behind her and melting against her husband’s chest.

“Everything okay?” he asked her, murmuring the words into her hair as he held her close.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “I just really missed you all. I can’t help worrying about them. And you.”

“We were fine,” he reassured her.

Ginny screwed her eyes closed. “I know. It’s just… I feel like when I’m being a journalist, I’m failing at being a mum, and when I’m being a mum, I’m failing at being a journalist.”

She felt a breath of silent laughter ruffle the hair at her crown. “Sounds like someone needs a pep talk from Hermione.” 

“Probably,” she shrugged, pausing for a moment. “I love my job, but I wish it didn’t put so much pressure on you to pick up the slack.”

“Hey.” He took a step back, placing his hands gently over her biceps, and looked straight into her eyes. “That’s isn’t what happens. You’re amazing. Honestly, amazing. But parenting’s a team sport. Yes, sometimes you have to rely on me, but I need you to remember that I couldn’t do what I do without you either. We have each other’s backs.”

Ginny felt the tension begin to drain from her shoulders. She relaxed back into his arms, but suddenly realised guilt wasn’t the only unpleasant sensation gnawing at her. “Um… not that this isn’t lovely, but I’m fucking starving,” she confessed, her stomach rumbling right on cue.

Harry kissed her forehead, then smiled at her indulgently. “No problem,” he told her. “Rule number one of being married to a Weasley: Always have food ready. I made lasagne for the kids earlier, the rest of it’s under a warming charm in the kitchen.”

Ginny let out a soft groan of pleasure. “You’re awesome, you know? Apparently Cinderella isn’t the only person to have bagged herself a Prince Charming!”

Harry laughed. “Come on then, Cinders - I’ll even throw in some garlic bread for good measure.”

As he took her hand and led her down the stairs, Ginny smiled to herself. Life might not be perfect - might never be perfect. But, she decided, if this was happily ever after, then it was pretty damned good.

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

Shadows of a web

by Girl_who_likes_to_read Peter is about to end everything after the events of no way home, but on his last patrol he gets hit with an unknown weapon that sends him to a whole other universe with weird bats and birds vigilantes.   I'm not that good with summaries but enjoy Words: 1555, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Batman - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: Gen Characters: Peter Parker, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd, Tim Drake (DCU), Duke Thomas, Barbara Gordon, Cassandra Cain, Damian Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth Relationships: Batfamily Members (DCU) & Peter Parker, Dick Grayson & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake (DCU) & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Duke Thomas, Cassandra Cain & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Damian Wayne, Barbara Gordon & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Jason Todd, Peter Parker & Alfred Pennyworth Additional Tags: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Suicidal Thoughts, Hurt Peter Parker, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is a Mess, Age Regression/De-Aging, Good Peter Hale, Peter Parker Gets a Hug, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Good Sibling Dick Grayson, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Jason Todd Deserves Better, POV Multiple, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating, Tim Drake is Red Robin (DCU), Barbara Gordon is Oracle, Protective Barbara Gordon, Duke Thomas is Signal, Duke Thomas is a Ray of Sunshine, Blood and Violence, Serious Injuries, Damian Wayne is Robin, Damian Wayne is a Little Shit, Damian Wayne Has a Heart, Peter Parker Acts Like a Spider, Good Sibling Cassandra Cain, Cassandra Cain is Batgirl, Alfred Pennyworth is the Best, Peter Parker Has Trust Issues, Probably missing some tags via https://ift.tt/lJZurTN

[portalibis]

Hermes Trismegistus Quotes:

"Listen within yourself and look into the infinitude of Space and Time. There can be heard the songs of the Constellations, the voices of the Numbers, and the harmonies of the Spheres."

"To know divine thought, O souls, you descend and painfully ascend the path of the seven planets and of their seven heavens."

"The sleep of the body is the sober watchfulness of the mind and the shutting of my eyes reveals the true Light."

"Holy is God, who is determined that He shall be known, and who is known by His own to whom He reveals Himself."

"My silence is filled with budding life and hope, and is full of good. My words are the blossoms of fruit of the tree of my soul. For this is the faithful account of what I receive from my true Mind .... through whom I became inspired by God with the Truth. Since that day my Mind hath been ever with me and in my own soul it hath given birth to the Word: the Word is Reason, and Reason hath redeemed me."

— April, 1937 - HERMES TRISMEGISTUS - Introductory; Quotations by Manly P. Hall

Picture: Achillis Bocchii Bonon. Symbolicarum quaestionum de universo genere quas serio ludebat libri quinque, c. 1555

[y0d00p]

oh wait i was also going to ask you!!! about some of your favorite scps because i just know your taste in that is going to be fire

okay. somewhat disorganized and arbitrary list of scps i like. i'll try to sort them into some kind of categories

everything in bold has content warnings (other than standard fare violence and body horror) that i recommend checking ("i" button next to the rating module at the top, if it doesn't have an entire splash page), but i may have missed some

everything should link to the correct page but this took me all night to compile and i don't feel like double checking right now lmao

media based because it's one of my fave themes:

1733 2614 3922 1633 5040 3006 5733 4950 1590

murder monsters and other funny guys:

7450 3470 3456 2863 1155 973 4885 3288 1233 4233 1442 3966 3004 6599 1470 (<- spider photo)

places, objects, and happenings:

2740 3737 3636 1459 3799 4001 1730 5000 4231 1555 3034 1602 1893 5140 5868 (<- meat industry/dead cows)

phase one of "words of powers and poison" (no idea about the rest of this hub, i just liked this little series a lot)

almost the entire 2022 anthology (it's been a minute since i read so i don't remember all the ones i liked, but i know there weren't many that missed. "E for eternity" gets a lot of (deserved) praise but i don't see as much talk about the rest of the series)

001 proposals:

d ulysses foole / the great hippo ft peppersghost / arbelict / s d locke / dafydd utica foolfellow / dr clef

tales:

funerals are fun / the last man / eating crow / until death / peace, i would settle for that / treats (<- violence against teens/children)

parawatch:

sunday dinner / the boltmann ambush / parkdev / substation 9 / eye-man / barns from nowhere / tower b / the bathrooms wiki

bonus, a completely unrelated nosleep story about an organization similar to the foundation that i want to share because it has just such a cool interpretation of angels

[preet-01]

In 2023, I wrote We've Never Hooked Up during the Lewis/Merc contract negotiations and a reporter asked if Lewis and Toto had hooked up about the contract. Now, what was originally a one-shot is a story told in three parts. This is part 2 and part 3 will be out in about a week

Word Count: 1555

The plans to spend the summer break together fall through before early July. 

It isn’t because Lewis is annoyed by how bad the car was and how no matter what he did the team barely seemed interested in listening to his feedback. And it wasn’t due to the continued fights they’d been having about his contract – or how Toto refused to advocate for him with the team in Germany. They’d agreed ages ago to not let work interfere with their relationship. 

Not to mention that  Toto has meetings that he should focus on. The German headquarters business didn’t stop just because Formula One was on a summer break. As CEO, Toto needed to work and Lewis didn’t want to spend the few weeks he had off fighting for some time with Toto. 

So Lewis decides to make his own plans. 

Maybe he’ll do some traveling with Miles, Spinz, and all the others. They had talked about a trip to Brazil. Or he could go island hopping with Daniel, chasing the warm sun and sandy shores. He had been meaning to spend more one-on-one time with Daniel after everything that had happened last year – it was bad when both Seb and Fernando were concerned. Maybe he could take up Seb on his offer to visit him in Switzerland and see his animals named after drivers. As great as his current friendship was with Fernando, he did miss seeing Seb every weekend and bitching about all things FIA-related. 

“Will you be attending Google Camp this year?” John asks. The older man had offered him a ride to England on his private jet after the Austrian Grand Prix and with most of the Mercedes team leaving Sunday night, Lewis had taken him up on the offer without hesitation. He hadn’t had time to catch up with John in a long time, so it was as good an opportunity as any. Just the two of them and their respective security on the private jet — Seb would probably chastise him about it. 

“I hadn’t intended on attending,” Lewis replies – he had declined the invitation weeks ago when the plan had been to be on some remote island with just Toto and a skeleton staff as company. “I already declined the invite before my original plans fell through,” he adds. 

‘Hhm,” John nods, “come with me. I have a plus one and those events tend to be dreadful without good company.” 

Lewis can’t help the laugh that escapes him. John had been downright miserable at Google Camp the year they had met. Stuck in some pissing contest conversation between Zuckerberg and Musk, John had jumped at the opportunity to pull him into a separate conversation when their eyes met across the ruins. 

Google Camp hadn’t happened in 2020 for obvious reasons. Lewis didn’t know about 2021, but he’d been busy with other stuff. And in 2022, he’d gotten a few calls from John about the event. Most of them complaining about the lack of good company with a mind for racing beyond just “fast cars go vroom.” 

He doesn’t commit to going but does tell John that he’ll think about it. 

It wouldn’t be the worst way to spend the summer break. Lewis quite liked John’s company and he liked Sicily. They’d had a grand old time during the few days they’d spent at Google Camp together in 2019.

____

He goes to Sicily. 

Of course, he goes to Sicily. 

He goes and he lets John plan their entire trip. He lets the control slip out of his own hands and into John’s — trusting that he wouldn’t be a disaster at planning. 

They have a private villa at the Verdura Resort that is probably much too big for just two people, but it has a pool and is one of the more beautiful places he’s stayed at during his life so far. There’s of course a lineup of Ferraris there just for their use and private chefs well versed in cooking vegan food. 

Google Camp is well not so different from how Lewis remembers it and it quickly turns into an Italian vacation with John taking him to places Lewis had never thought of visiting before. Whisking him away from Sicily in one of the many Ferraris until they reach the harbor where a boat awaits to take them to mainland Italy. 

He doesn’t think of the missed calls between himself and Toto or the short messages exchanged. Neither of them seemed to catch the other at an opportune time. Instead, he focuses on John and attempts to tell the man that there are better ways to have a sweater hanging from one’s shoulders than how John tends to have them. However, he does admit that it is an endearing idiosyncrasy. 

And in the coming months, he does his best to not think about the promises that John had whispered in his ear as they lay under the blazing Italian sun. Or the taste of fermented grapes and ripe strawberries as a million stars shined down on them. Or how he’d laughed more in those few days with John than he had with Toto in the past few years. No, he doesn’t think of that at all…

Lewis ignores it the best that he can, for as long as he can — he’d always been very good at compartmentalizing and pushing forward. 

Just as plans for the summer break spent on some remote island fall through, so do the plans for winter break. They don’t go to Toto’s home in the Austrian countryside or visit the Christmas markets. Well, Lewis doesn’t go, Toto does. 

Lewis instead flies out to Brazil with Miles, Spinz, and all his other friends. None of them mention that the private jet they use isn’t the one that Lewis would usually rent or the one he’d occasionally borrow from Toto, but borrowed from one John Elkann. 

Brazil is everything he’d needed after the season, after fighting with his car time and time again. It’s a necessary break that he had needed to decompress and just think. 

It’s an eye-opening vacation, to say the least. 

Things need to change because as Lewis had told Toto months ago, he didn’t have years and years to keep fighting. 

Just as he’s about to call Toto so they can talk through everything like they normally do, a different billionaire is calling him. 

“Hi,” Lewis answers, unable to help the smile that breaks out when he answers John’s call. 

“Hello, Lewis,” John replies, “how is Brazil?” 

Lewis goes into the details about the vacation. Everything that they have done so far and everything that they plan to do in the coming days. John, ever so attentive, makes his own recommendations and tells Lewis about the places that he loved growing up. “You lived in Brazil?” Lewis questions, he had not been aware of that. How it hadn’t come up in their many conversations, he doesn’t know. Just as he’d thought that he’d learned everything about John, the man reveals something new – some new avenue to take their already hours-long conversations. 

“Briefly when I was young. I attended primary school in England and then Brazil before we moved to Paris when I was in my teenage years,” John answers. “But it has always been somewhat of a home as many of my earliest memories are from there and I have gone back to explore the country many times since,” he explains. 

“Tell me more,” Lewis says, getting comfortable on his bed as all thoughts of Toto and his future fly out the window. 

If Lewis spends the rest of the day on the phone with John, just talking and definitely not flirting, then that’s no one’s business except his own. And he certainly doesn’t invite John to join him in Brazil. He just so happens to have business in Brazil obviously, nothing to do with Lewis. 

As John Elkann makes declarations of unconditional devotion and presses kisses onto the most intimate parts of Lewis Hamilton, Toto Wolff is in the company of his other driver.  

It is a far cry from how Toto had expected to spend his winter months ago when Lewis had joked about the two of them never hooking up during a press conference. Then he’d imagined a shorter man with tattoos on dark skin and a gap-toothed smile in his bed. He’d imagined Lewis curled up around him as they sought relief from the cold Austrian winter. He’d imagined a quiet vacation spent in one another’s company and visiting the Christmas markets that Lewis had fallen in love with. 

Instead, his winter is spent in the company of George who is nothing like Lewis. Instead of a private vacation with visits to Christmas markets, he’s at karting tracks, ski charity events, and public places where people easily recognize them both. Instead, his winter is spent with someone who is still not fully sure of his position with Toto. 

George is still staying at his place in Oxford when Lewis finally calls him about their usual pre-season coffee. Toto doesn’t kick him out, can’t find it in himself to do so. Not when George had looked so lovely and had taken so long to get comfortable. 

No, George has an event to go to that morning anyway. It would be fine. 

[enoughyi]

#10: A Hole In The Breeches

Ship: Imelda Reyes x f!MC (Julia Wright) x Poppy Sweeting

Summary: Helping Julia was Imelda's area of contemplation but as it always was a snake biting its own tail yet again, an inner doubt found its resolution. This time, however, it was more of a hitting revelation.

Prompt Number: 31. Kiss at dusk. [>>>link to the list]

Word count: 1555. Rating: T-M.

A/N: It's brainrot-powered. Characters are in their 20's.

I'm a tad busy, hence the absence, but I couldn't miss June 30th. But it also means I didn't really beta anything, so in advance; I'm sorry.

Rated M, partly; because Poppy. SLICE OF LIFE BTW.

Tags: @thriftstorebabayaga @espressoristretto-patronum @boxdstars @celestial--sapphic @caramel-hufflepuff @myokk @theladyofshalott1989

Sometimes Imelda felt a sting of unfairness, when looked at Julia.

This mad, unstoppable, relentless woman seemed never to know any rest from her endless journey along the flow of research; rarely had a complaint on spending days in the brewery -- she called her wee lab this -- if not counting an inceasing hissing when her back would tell, if not scream at her to get to at a more suitable accommodation; she would never let out a book, and what it would be only a whim of her would know; last and certainly not least, Julia was obsessively doing more than anyone Imelda knew ever would.

No witch or wizard of her or Poppy's knowing would attempt or try to renovate a house in the muggle way. Cook like muggles do, making a bother of knives and pots. Installed a stove, took so much pride in it, to everyone's surprise, only to down their brows when the first colds of the year came and wouldn't sip in, ever, as the heat would induce the feel of summer, pertained, enclosed and stuck within these walls.

Julia was doing so much and had little to nothing said about it, other than an occasional skepticism, in Imelda's mind. Her and Poppy's life achievements would instantly fade out beside Julia's. She deserved to be recognised, to be praised, but then Imelda would always recall Julia's reaction of a scowl.

She had done so much and was awkward at taking a compliment.

"You're proud of your flying, because it is a skill. You learnt and what you have was earned, and rightfully so it was. But I was born to this magic, and my sharp mind; it was inherited and is yet to surpass the achievements of my late mother. None of these things are of my own making, Melly, I have simply borrowed them," she'd say.

Maddening woman, Julia was.

And Poppy? Credit where it's due, she knew Julia longer than she did; if that imbuing sense of achieving more for seemingly the sheer sake of it was Julia's goal, no wonder Pops called her Draught of Peace.

Hardly a thing could be a disturbance to this woman. Even pinching her from behind when she was busying with food, seemingly lost in thoughts and haphazardly scribbling something in a notebook with an enchanted pen, couldn't annoy her in a sense Imelda did secretly expect. Wouldn't she need a little help? Instead, her gesture has never crossed Julia's mind any other way than what was usually intended.

Then, Imelda would ask, to clarify it wasn't anything salacious this time around, if she needed anything. Julia would simply say, didn't she have resting days? "Yes but you could certainly have a helping hand?"

"No, and I meant, there is no need," she'd answer, a tired but satisfied smile stuck in her voice. A quick glance at the notebook would reveal symbols after symbols describing what Imelda could remember were alchemical processes -- or were they, potioneers, these timid people, always wrote in ciphers or, no, hieroglyphics, like mathematicians?

"Just when I thought you are still grieving over your Charms NEWT."

"I still am."

"But look at this, you've mastered them. Remember McDowell? The girl still burns everything she touches."

"She performed better than I did," and on that note of pure sulking, Imelda felt a light kiss would liven Julia. It certainly did, her cheeks flashed with delightful pink, but her eyes remained stuck at the stove before her, and no thought was behind that stare other than a some non-relevant exam to her career at the construction firm in London, her current job, to any of her numerous hobbies and interest, to any of her researches, thoughts, wits; Aesop Sharp, damn, was her best friend and taught her beyond Hogwarts' curriculum. And she dared to drown in sap of past, non-important mistakes that to Professor Ronen were simply this, too.

Julia needn't his subject per se, lest she wanted to become Theory for Magic professor to continue Fig's foolhardy attempts at… what was he researching again?

"More important is that you seem to have forgotten you need to rest, too," Imelda reminded.

"But I'm resting. Every time I think of something enjoyable, write it down and continue moving onwards with my research. Unless, you remember, my back."

"Want to sit by with me?" Imelda knew she didn't have to ask twice. Julia was quick to move from the stove to a cosy couch -- another of her kitchen prides -- and solaced by warmth, felled limp in Imelda's arms. Her pen still scribbled something, however, and so hastily it was tearing through the page. "Jools, your pen." It stopped. Then, as Julia's wand suddenly flickered in her hand, both notebook and pen gravitated towards the table and lain themselves at where no plate would stand in just few long tens of minutes before dinner.

Behind the windows, a smokefall.

And through this majestically glittering mist, along the trail of little fairies, the subtle silhouette of Poppy was moving closer to the door. Like Julia, she preferred to enter the house via the kitchen door. Why, as Imelda once asked unsolicited, turned into a grim story. Poachers.

Wicked people, they had eaten off their own children; remaining unseen and unheard, crawling for the food storage in the middle of nights to steal enough for lunch the next day…

Poppy spoke about it all so calmly, not a dirgeful tremble in her voice, but was it -- was it truly calm or held so because Poppy was telling above Julia's sleeping, deaf ear; yet her skin could catch the strange tremble of the air of her anxious whisper. Julia would've hated to see her upset; cursed all poachers heard a strain in her voice. Was it also the reason why Julia was relentless?

And wasn't Imelda trying to ruin what's been sewn long before she became another key stone of this whole relationship.

Tonto, tonto niña.

When Poppy entered, she immediately jumped at them to ask if Julia had yet again overworked herself. Julia replied, she didn't, it was just getting late, and she would come up with more excuses. Imelda cut her off, "Obviously she was, she rejected my help again."

"Don't do that again," Poppy meant it jokingly, but meant nonetheless and Julia couldn't escape her judgement, leaning tiredly on Imelda's shoulder. "I'll--"

"But you just came!" Julia sat up. "Take a seat, I'll--"

Imelda retorted, "Crumple on the floor? Forget it, be a good wee little princess and sit with Pops, I'll have use of myself for once."

Julia's pouting was met with Poppy's lecturing; Julia could stand her wishes empalingly sharp but not against Poppy. This woman would never tolerate any form of self-deprecation or self-neglect, she saw no romance in what felt an unwarranted sacrifice, a needless fatigue, that something pertaining to Julia's whole act of doing the home. It was her wish, Imelda knew. Poppy's wish was to do it, to, together.

Imelda listened to them for few moments, until the dinner was ready to be served. As she placed first plates, Julia was saying, "But I don't know, Poppy. I need all this for research, too."

"Research?" Imelda cut in. "Have I heard you right? You are thinking of research doing laundry? What exactly are you studying off my dirty breeches?"

"Your dirt-smeared, butt-worn, holed atrocity inspired a hypothesis the other day!"

"Melly," Poppy inclined, "don't, she is just like that."

"Like that! I like that, It's vital to my job! I can't solve another cryptic recipe if I'm not tending the garden, or strolling, or throwing gnomes, or cooking, or--"

"Are you telling me my favourite breaches have a hole on the arse now."

"That whole region has come off, sorry, I didn't know how to tell you."

Imelda put the kettle down with a muffled thud. "And you threw them away???"

"Not yet but I just might if you're so against me to do more work here, around our house, such as patching this thing."

"Why though?" Poppy asked, mouth half-full of baked potato. "Burn them?"

"They're my breeches!"

"But do not you understand patching them will fuel a theory?"

"Shut it!" Imelda demanded. "What kind of argument is that! Forget it! Are you still… doing this… after all those years, even when!.."

Julia pecked, "Always. Do not you, too, to name an example, do not you come up with strategies when, hm, doing me?"

"Fuck! Julia! No!"

"Tending the garden?"

"No."

"Or when strolling down to the Pitch on a sunny day?"

"Not really, every thing of what you've just mentioned is my relaxation and not a job. It stays where it belongs. At the club's dormitory. Just so you're aware. It has no place inside your--"

"Now you shut it," Poppy asked. "The only pussy here is our cat."

Sammy the Kneazle, a middle-aged kneazle of a gorgeous iridescent sable colour, was resting on top of a counter near his food stand.

He lifted his head at Poppy called him, while Julia was blinking at Imelda, in turn staring at her holding a nervous laughter.

Julia was a maddening woman. Stubborn. Deaf to the word of care and advice sometimes; something Aesop-damn-Sharp noticed, too.

But unlike Poppy, she couldn't render speechless with just a word.