#Proofreading service

[thebpc-hertfordshire]

Historical Novelisation

Our latest project is proofreading a book translated from Swedish and we're currently about 1/3 of the way through the first pass. Researched and written in line with documented facts of who, where and what happened 1000 years ago, the book novelises the characters and their adventures, bringing them to life for readers in a way that most history books fail to capture.

We'll keep you updated nearer the publication date.

[dreamassignment]

Proofreading Service Assignment

Want to improve grades in proofreading service

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[writingsharks12]

Professional Essay Proofreading Services - WritingSharks Get professional essay proofreading services at WritingSharks. Our expert editors will meticulously review and polish your essays to perfection, ensuring flawless grammar, punctuation, spelling, and formatting. Submit your essays with confidence and boost your grades with our top-notch proofreading services. For further information, visit our website.

[catscidr]

// taking care of your dogboy (hsr edition!) //

i. note — sry i havent been posting yall i got a job + ive been working on three cosplays at the same time bc my local con is coming up lmao (´ཀ`」 ∠) however the brainrot never stops. it only takes a break. a little break of approximatively. a month. ish. ......... anyways dog hybrid hsr boys brainrot !!! lmk if we want more of this with more boys •ᴗ• comments and asks are appreciated hehe ii. includes — blade, gepard, boothill and gn!reader iii. cw — slice of life stuff turning into smut, possessive behaviour, overstim, slight dom/sub dynamics, real messy stuff, manhandling. use of the word "hole" to keep reader gender neutral iv. wc — 1,9k

blade is a mutt riddled in scars and dirty bandages from living on the streets and fighting to survive.

you think he might be some german shepherd mix, but he refuses to let you swab his teeth n gums for a dna test (last time you tried you narrowly avoided a punch to the face. he apologized in his own way afterwards), so whenever people ask, just say he’s a rescue to avoid revealing that you actually just… don’t really know what breed he is. they usually drop the subject and simply go on their merry way, seeing as he wasn’t the type of pup to appreciate affection from strangers anyways– it’s rare for you to leave the house in the first place, though.

you had to switch to a remote job because blade is just so persistent when it comes to you. although possessive is a much better descriptor, because he doesn’t let anyone near you. whenever you leave to get groceries he ends up practically breathing down your neck from how close he gets— acting as if he were your literal shadow— glaring at everyone that gets too close to you. you’ve made it a habit to always go to self-checkout lane so blade doesn’t scare off the cashiers.

the second you get home he’s all over you, determined to rid you of that outside stench and replace it with his own. you started packing your grocery bags in a way that nothing will break if (read: when) you suddenly drop them on the floor, all because you’re so familiar with blade’s impatience.

he holds you still by engulfing your body with his, knees caging your hips as he grinds into you, shallow and deep. blade’s growls and huffs fill your ears just as much as his cock fills your hole, his knot kissing your tightness from the outside.

“do you like this? like how i have to fuck you every time you decide to go outside again when you could stay here,” with me blade omits, his tail swishing back and forth on the bedsheets behind him, the sound just barely grounding you to reality.

your grocery bags were long forgotten on the foor (as they usually are), your mind too foggy to function. clawing at the sheets, you try to crawl away from blade’s grip— to no avail.

he tuts, craning his head to bite down onto the skin where your shoulder meets your neck. “i might just need to mark you for extra precaution,” he bucks into you, knocking the air out of your lungs. you hear squelching, the constant plap! plap! plap! from his thighs smacking against your ass and whine, broken babbles leaving your kiss-bruised lips.

“b-blade, y’can’t- ah,” he shushes you by plugging you full of his lengthy cock, his knot almost threatening to press inside of you. you whimper, feeling lightheaded from a mix of both nervousness and arousal.

he soothes the hickey he left on your neck, licking it languidly as he stills to bask into the way your hole throbs around him. warm and tight and oh so tempting.

“shit, wanna fill you. wanna… have everyone know they can’t have you. you’re mine, mine to love ‘n mine to fuck,” you’re not lucid enough to process his thinly veiled confession, too busy writhing your ass back against him in a feeble attempt to get him to continue moving.

you might want to invest into some good concealer or into those skin coloured tattoo patches to cover the bruises and bite marks blade’ll leave on you if you want to continue being a functioning member of society. you can’t really be walking around in public as if a dog had just mauled you right before you left the house, can you?

gepard is a golden retriever because of COURSE he is. similarly to blade, he likes to invade your personal space a lot— not because he’s possessive, but because he’s extremely protective of you.

the random bruises you used to randomly notice on your body faded as soon as he came into your life. gepard’s soft, lingering touches healed them; gently placing a hand on your hip before you bump into sharp furniture so it doesn’t hit you, redirecting your head to his shoulder as you nod-off in the train before you bang your head, and so on.

it’s a full-time job and he’s working 24/7, always on the lookout for anything that could possibly hurt you as you saunter off… wherever, without a care in the world— because he took care of everything!

he would clean the apartment for you, cook (though you usually insist you do the cooking; a human doesn’t have the same taste in food as a hybrid), and even act as your own personal alarm clock. gone were the days of being woken up by loud, blaring beeping. gepard woke you up with forehead kisses instead, making your mornings much more pleasant.

but poor geppie, he’s always taking care of you; so take care of him, won’t you?

every so often you’ll sit in his lap to help him get rid of whatever stress he held in his body. your hands will knead at the muscles in his broad shoulders, all while you simultaneously kiss away the strain in his face. his brows are furrowed as you do your best to soothe his muscles; you never forget to smooch his cheek, nose and the corner of his lips.

though the attention and gentle acts of affection always ends with your hands lower than they should be.

“ah ah, no touching, remember?” you murmur in his ear playfully. you had been at it for what felt like hours; gepard’s cock and abdomen was smeared with the remnants of his cum, skin tacky from his previous loads. your hand shows no sign of stopping, not even when he begged oh so sweetly.

“c-come onn. just… jus’ wanna kiss…” and who were you to deny your sweet boy? your lips find his in a heartbeat, his tongue swiping over your own sloppily as he breathes you in like a depraved man.

the only condition you had when you did this was for him to keep his hands to himself— at least until you both decide to move on to something else. until then, his fists clench the sheets beneath the both of you, and his ears stay flat on his fluffy head.

“i’m… i’m close again, g- aah, please, please…!” he begs, cock weeping precum as you continuously jerk him off. you smile, absentmindedly rocking your hips to the rhythm you held him prisoner to— gepard was too engulfed in the warmth of your hand to notice, anyways. “cum whenever you want sweet boy,” you purr, and he keens as he buries his face in your neck, his hips lifting off the bed ever so slightly as they meet your hand and he thrusts, riding the high of his orgasm.

sticky cum coats your hand for the nth time; you relent your grip on his cock for his sake, instead choosing to shower him with chaste kisses all over his face. gepard whines, taking ahold of your waist weakly as he breathes into the crook of your neck.

“geppie, your han-“ he cuts you off, swiftly switching positions so you’re now laying on your back as he hovers over you, chest rising and falling quickly, catching his breath from the intensity of his orgasm. gepard’s tail wags slowly behind him as his hands creep up from your waist to your chest just as slowly- you feel his cock harden against your pelvis, precum spilling from his pinky tip.

“‘ts my turn now,” he huffs, leaning down to nip at your neck.

boothill is the most obnoxious dalmatian hybrid you’ve ever seen (not that you’ve seen many, or at all). but he’s made your life so fun so you can’t be too mad at him

he’s always dragging you out of bed to go do something— could be going to the park nearby or sit in the living room playing video games on your dusty console, it doesn’t matter because he’ll MAKE you step out of your cozy nest!!

you’re glad he’s friendly, because you’re not sure how you would handle such an excited hybrid when you left the house. people come up to the both of you to chat and he indulges their questions, essentially leading the conversation (while you stand there awkwardly, not knowing what to say).

boothill is also great with kids, unexpectedly. 9 times out of 10 when you go to the park he ends up playing with someone’s child, bright smile on his face as he messes up their hair with a rough hand. they’ll throw a frisbee for him to go catch and he’ll do it happily, or he’ll even… teach them how to beat people up.

(you stare mortified as he teaches a little girl how to throw a proper punch only for her to then punch her parent when she leaves boothill’s side. you go up to them and apologize profusely, forcing boothill to bow with you.)

he also loves to help you out, even though he’s not the greatest at household chores— but he definitely tries! though he is a stellar cook, which never fails to surprise you whenever he’s on dinner duty. he just… really sucks at everything else.

it’s… mostly because he just has so much energy. he sweeps the floor? nope, he’s picking off the pieces of the broom off of the floor because he accidentally broke it. he’s fixing your bed? nuh uh, you’re throwing out the ruined bedsheets because he accidentally tore them to shreds somehow.

so, with all of these accidents happening because he’s just brimming with energy 24/7, you started purposely exhausting him. or, rather, gave him the green light to exhaust you until he tires himself out.

“booth-aah, w-wait, you’re being too…!” you fall over on top of his hard chest, keening at the new angle his cock reached inside of you. he repeated his assault on the spot that made you see stars as your jaw gaped, broken moans leaving your lips.

“don’t tell me y’re tapping out.. haa, already!” boothill grunts, his grip on your hips tightening. he throws his head back with a loud moan, abs tensing as he nears yet another climax— the 5th one of the night. maybe, maybe not. you lost count after the third one.

you bury your face into the crook of his neck, focusing on the feeling of his cock plugging you full instead of the soreness, the burn in your muscles that came from your knees holding you up on his lap.

watching you riding him will always be his favourite thing in the world, even if he always ends up fucking up into you and taking back control at the end of the night.

“gonna cu-uum…” you whine, clenching around his length almost painfully tightly, hearing his breathing hitch as an orgasm is ripped out of him in consequence to yours. boothill’s fingers dig into your ass, his hips lifting off the bed as he cums deep inside of your sloppy hole again, sticky fluid building up beneath the sheets.

you collapse on top of him fully, chest heaving against his own as you come back to your senses, slowly but surely. boothill’s ears perk up, hearing how your breathing had evening out.

“so… got another round in ya?”

[mid-80s]

esposa

pov: it's your honeymoon, and miguel can't seem to keep his hands off his new wife.

cw: oral (f receiving), praise, body worship, begging, cumming untouched, manhandling (if you squint), possessiveness

"please, mi vida."

"jus' wanna see you cum, need you to cum in my mouth, on my fingers--fuck baby, please."

you blush as miguel lowers until he's on his knees in front of you, trailing his kisses to your lower stomach.

miguel always had a way of making you feel like the sexiest woman on earth, but holy fuck.

this made you feel like a goddess.

the hottest man you'd ever had the pleasure of meeting was on his knees begging for you to ride his face? somebody pinch you.

you had just arrived in your honeymoon suite for the night before your flight to the caribbean the next morning, and you had barely gotten the door closed before he was all over you. "miggy, we gotta put our bags down first, we haven't even turned on the lights." you start, scratching the hair at the nape of his neck in the way he likes. he groans and presses his forehead onto your lower belly, gripping your hips for support.

"no. need you now." he growls.

you feel your knees buckle at his clear display of affection for you, a fluttering feeling in your stomach as his big hands cup your waist. miguel only gets like this when you've been fucking for a good while.

you smile and grip his hair a bit so he'd face you, relishing in the whimper he gives in result. "gonna help me take my dress off at least?"

in a flash, you're pressed against the door as miguel pulls the dainty zipper down with fervor. "careful!" you rush out, reaching back to hold his hand delicately while looking over your shoulder at him. "wanna save this for our kids someday."

it's hard to miss the outright moan miguel releases at the mention of having kids with you, a fantasy that's lived in his head since he dropped you home after the first date. "mierda..." he places his forehead on your shoulder before walking you over to the mirror, facing you towards it as he unzips your dress with much more care.

the beautiful fabric falls to reveal the lingerie you've been hiding the whole night, a gorgeous dark blue--his favorite color--with an intricate design you personally adored. miguel audibly gasps at the reveal, staring at you in the mirror before seemingly remembering he has access to the real version right in front of him. the moon--the only source of light in the room--makes you look downright angelic, and effectively shuts down miguel's brain. his mind looks as though it's running a mile a minute as you attempt to bring him back down to earth.

"i got it for our first anniversary, but i loved it so much and decided it needed to be saved for our wedding." you explain, turning in his arms right when his hands find purchase on your hips. "d-do you like it?" you can't help but feel a bit shy, this time having sex seems different. more emotional.

miguel seems to have found his words, his eyes breaking from their marveling at your body to look you in the eye with sickeningly sweet affection. "¿me gusta? cariño, eres tan jodidamente perfecta, nunca dejas de dejarme sin aliento. no puedo creer que seas mi esposa."

you giggle and reach up to wrap your arms around his neck as he stares at you like you've hung the stars. "i'll take that as a yes." you kiss him, passionate and deep, yet slow and soft. your husband groans into your mouth, fangs popping out before he can stop them. his brain is all mush by the time his picks you up to lay you on the bed.

he settles between your thighs before breaking the kiss to sit back and get a good look at you. your hair--now loose from its meticulous style--spreads around your head like a halo, illuminated by the moon light. your skin--buttery and smooth and glittery from the body shimmer you like to wear--is warm and soft as you take his left hand in yours, kissing his ring and miguel's brain short circuits at the sight. how the fuck did he manage to get the most gorgeous girl in every universe underneath him wearing his last name? he's genuinely surprised you even let him touch you.

"you're so gorgeous baby..so so fucking gorgeous..my wife.." he groans against your skin as he kisses down, practically ripping his blazer and dress shirt off when your soft voice requests oh so politely. he feels feral, like he wants to eat you whole.

you breath picks up as miguel's shaky hands reach behind you to unclasp your bra. he always had this way of making you feel so shy under his gaze. small, in a good way. wanted. miguel lets out a shaky breath as your breasts spill out from their confines, as if this is the first time he's seen them. you can't bring yourself to tease him for it, because you feel the exact same way. "oh dios, me voy a correr en mis malditos pantalones."

you giggle. "what?" you had picked up a bit of spanish over years of listening to his ramblings, but you had no idea what the fuck he just said. but none of it mattered once he dipped down to suck at your right nipple, tweaking the left with a calloused finger. "ah!"

"gorgeous, fucking gorgeous.." he mumbles to himself as he switches his attention to your other nipple before pulling off with a wet pop. he looks up at you with a fire you'd never seen before as he kisses down your torso, sucking hickeys along the way. "gonna make you feel so good, baby, fuck."

you whimper as he trails closer to your core, pushing onto your elbows to look at him while he sucks dark hickies into your inner thighs. he's off the bed, on his knees with your legs hooked around his shoulders, and he looks like he'd rather be no where else. "jesus, you're so wet. this all f'me?" he slurs, already pussydrunk.

"all for you baby. mi esposo."

the guttural moan he lets out in response would have made you flinch if he didn't immediately follow it up with a thick wet stripe up the length of your pussy, collecting the slick on his tongue before using the tip to circle your clit. "shit!"

he continues to lap at your cunt like it's his last meal, moaning into it as he shakes his head from side to side. "so fuckin sweet.." his words are muffled by your cunt and your cries out as you grip his hair, ring tangling a bit and tugging. this spurs miguel on more as the following buck of his hips against the bed is more forceful than the last.

"holy fuck miggy!" you practically scream over the lewd, wet sound of miguel in your pussy, heels digging into his muscled back as you push his head impossibly closer and grind onto his tongue. he hooks his hands around your thighs and keeps his tongue out for you like the good boy he is, and you have an overwhelming sense to tell him so. "s-so good f'me miggy--oh fuck--so g-good..."

miguels eyes roll to the back of his head as his thrusts into the mattress get more frantic, as do yours as the tell-tale signs of your orgasm come barreling towards you. miguel flicks his tongue against your clit as a thick finger curls into your cunt right against your sweet spot. the dam breaks and you back arches off the bed, stars bursting behind your eyelids as heat fills your body.

miguel coaxes you through it all before you signal him to stop.

he comes up with a wet chin and just as shiny eyes as he looks at you expectantly. you kiss him deep, tasting your juices on his tongue as you stroke his jaw affectionately. "you did so well for me, mr. o'hara. so fucking good."

and that's when miguel o'hara creams his pants like a fucking teenager.

[renx01]

Playing along - part 7

Prompt: “Just play along, please” inspired this multiple part fic, in which agent Galahad and Kay are on a mission together in the French Alps. Here, they have to pretend to be a couple, despite the two of them being rivals and Kay always wanting to beat him at everything. Pairing: Harry Hart x Kingsman!Reader Fandom: Kingsman Tags/Warnings: fake dating, slowburn, rivals Word count: 1.7 k

Masterlist

The following morning you wake up next to Harry, his left arm draped over your upper body. His muscles tense slightly when you shift a little, his hand gripping your side possessively. Slowly, you open your eyes. When you finally do, you look down a bit and see your colleague’s head resting on your chest, his hair quite messy. When you look around a bit more, you see that the sheets are only covering his lower half and the clothes the both of you had been wearing upon arriving back at the cabin, have been discarded elsewhere in the room.

As the daze you were in upon awakening lifts, you start to realise the predicament you’re in. This sort of thing is not supposed to happen, especially between colleagues. Despite this, the previous evening happened with consent of the two adults involved. Honestly, you don’t know how to feel. The tension between the two of you had been building for months now, with them reaching a height that you hadn’t expected during this mission. You suppose that last night was a way of releasing all this tension. Closing your eyes again, you focus on the sound of Harry’s breathing, focussing the pattern it forms.

After a while, you fall asleep again, the calm patterns of Harry’s breathing calming your mind. When you wake up again, it’s from the man next to you moving his arm so that his hand touches your jaw. Meanwhile, his face moves from your shoulder into your neck.

‘Morning love.’ He whispers in your ear.

‘Morning.’ You mumble back to him. ‘Sleep well?’

He hums in response before nudging you to turn your face. When you do so, he moves up to kiss you tenderly. All the doubts and concerns you had seem to fade away with that motion. It’s a sweet gesture which slowly becomes more passionate. Your own hands start moving into his hair, pulling him into you, wanting him to be closer. Rather than leaving it up to him to take initiative, you eventually move your leg over his chest and roll him over onto his back, sitting on top.

‘Well, I’m glad to hear that mister Hart.’ You tease him before kissing him again.

The morning passes quickly as the snowstorm, that had picked up again the previous night, continues to rage outside. When the two of you finally get out of bed, you take a shower together before heading to the kitchen and eating something. You’re sat at the table, one of Harry’s shirts draped over your shoulders and only wearing a pair of boxer briefs. Harry on the other hand is making some tea, only wearing a pair of boxers. It makes for quite a nice view, his back muscles are quite pronounced while his waist is slim yet nicely structured. In short, he’s nothing short of a snack. ‘Enjoying yourself staring, Cam dear?’ He looks over his shoulder, his eyes giving away the smirk that’s probably etched into his face. ‘Hmm yes, I’m simply enjoying the view.’ You respond playfully. He makes a comment in a low voice that you can’t really hear, as he’s turned back around. Not too long after, though, he turns to face you again and walks towards the table, holding two cups of tea. He kisses your temple as he places your cup in front of you. Shortly thereafter, he sits down across from you and drinks his own tea. It’s quiet, the two of you are the only ones in the cabin and the storm has calmed down a bit, though it’s still snowing. You don’t feel awkward in the slightest, yet you feel it might be temporary. The risk of things going back to how they were before feels like a dark cloud that looms over whatever it is the two of you have. Despite this feeling, conversation flows naturally, ranging from your next steps in the mission to what to have for dinner tonight.

Minutes, maybe even hours, pass before you decide to get ready for the day. With the mountain still being closed, you don’t have much of a choice on how to pass your time and you decide to do some more research on your targets. Your efforts seem to be in vain, though, with no real new information coming up in your search. Harry, who is sat opposite of you, his foot tapping yours every so often, is working on the report of what you’ve currently found while also looking into the organisations behind the people. Around lunchtime, you’re joined virtually by Merlin, who seems to be content that the two of you are getting along. Unlike how your meetings usually go, Harry and you fill in for each other when there’s things that haven’t been mentioned yet. ‘Aye, well I have good news for the two of you. It seems the storm should be over by tomorrow, so hopefully you’ll be able to get back to socialising with that lot.’ Merlin’s figure looks up from his notepad. ‘I shall contact our favourite couple then.’ Harry looks at you for confirmation and you nod. It’d be better to see them again soon, and being able to get back to the mountain should be a good reason. ‘I think they should be quite happy to meet up, from the security footage around their property it becomes clear that they’ve been having arguments. Probably feeling a bit claustrophobic with all those guards around.’ You turn to Merlin. ‘There’s that many?’

After your meeting with Merlin, you decide to make another pot of tea. As you’re brewing it, Harry comes up from behind and his hands slip around your waist. Leaning forward, he places a kiss on your cheek before whispering in your ear. ‘Merlin would have my head if he found out about us, did you know that agent Kay?’ You turn around in his arms and lean backwards so you can take a good look at his face. ‘And why is that, agent Galahad?’ His grip tightens and he pulls you closer. ‘Because I’m supposed to be the responsible one.’ His lips graze your ear. ‘Yet here we are, me with my arms around you and you look utterly irresistible.’ Before you can answer, his lips capture yours in a passionate embrace.

After a few more distractions, Harry eventually gets around to calling Angelo about meeting up the following day. They come to an agreement about a time and place, settling on meeting at one of the ski huts near the gondola station for drinks somewhere late in the afternoon the following day. The conversation seemed quite pleasant, and Angelo’s voice sounded relieved when he’d originally picked up the phone. His excitement seems to have stemmed from how well everyone had gotten along last time, but also from not having to spend his time stuck in their holiday home for much longer. A valid reason, you supposed, especially with the number of guards wandering around their property. ‘He seemed quite keen on meeting up again.’ Harry says after hanging up the phone. You nod, having heard the conversation in full since Harry’d make sure to put the phone on speaker. ‘Agreed. Hopefully his loving fiancée feels the same.’ You think back to Guillia, who you’d realised, wasn’t as fond of skiing as her husband to be. Still, she seems to enjoy it enough to put up with his antics. ‘I think it’s likely that she’s just as enthusiastic about leaving that property for a bit, even if it’s only half a day. Besides, this time around we won’t be skiing while spending time with them, so it’ll be a bit more up her alley.’ His tone is casual, but you know he’s quite hesitant most of the time when it comes to meeting targets multiple times. To be fair, his hesitation is warranted, with many of the networks the Kingsmen usually infiltrate or come in contact with at other events being able to gather information on agents relatively quickly due to the current digital environment and close ties to other criminal enterprises. Still, the two of you should be fine, with neither of you having much of a public profile or having been in contact with their respective family “businesses” before this mission.

‘Well, I’m just glad I get to show off my skills again tomorrow.’ You say as you put your arms around your colleague’s neck and lean backwards, taking a good look at his face. His hands wrap around your waist when you do so and his eyes meet yours. He smiles and hums before speaking. ‘Are you now?’ He leans forward and places a kiss on your lips. ‘Do be careful, love. I know you’re good at this, but I’d rather you not end up in the ER.’ ‘I suppose I’ll try, if you’re so worried, old man.’ You wink before charessing the side of his head with your hand and pulling him in for another kiss. ‘I appreciate it.’ He lets out a small sigh of relief. ‘Shall I make us some more tea?’ You nod at his suggestion, your hands leaving the nape of his neck. You appreciate Harry’s concern. It shows that he cares and all this isn’t just an act he’s putting on to make the mission easier. You suppose it has, in a way, but you’re worried of what might transpire upon its completion. Perhaps the two of you could continue to see each other in some way, despite Kingsman code, but you aren’t entirely sure how well such an arrangement would work. Still, you know Percival and Lancelot (a/n not Roxy, since this is pre secret service) have been fooling around with one another for quite some time now without Arthur, or anyone really, intervening with their relationship in any way. It’s been good for them though, their teamwork on missions has become more smooth. They barely have to communicate when in the field and cover each other perfectly. You hope that whatever is going on between you and the older gentleman, that it can become something… you aren’t sure what you want it to be, but you wished you could stay here, in this chalet, for an eternity.

————

A/N: hello, I’m not dead. Sorry for not posting. I’ve finally managed to finish my (hellish) internship. University has, however, started again and exams are coming up already… I’ll try to post more consistently again soon, since I have many new stories and chapters in the works!

Tags: @crazymela @chimopdog @julieeauchocolat

[johnslittlespoon]

accidentally just created my own buckbucky college au oops (i love college aus tho, this was far overdue tbh) so here's like ~2k words of (semi–nsfw) drabble that i wanna turn into a oneshot/series :-)

thinking about modern au pre–established relationship buckbucky who meet in their first year of college because they apply to an ad to rent a two bedroom apartment near campus, complete strangers save for a few texts back and forth until move in day.

they become fast friends despite how opposite they are, john being a cliche frat boy type (but subverting expectations by majoring in something english–related? waxing secret poetry about his 'obvious as the sun to everyone but gale' crush on his roommate lol) and gale being a studious math/science major, no interest in parties or campus culture. pining aside, everything's just fine until:

john does something stupid a few months into the school year and ends up spraining/breaking his dominant arm– probably wipes out trying to ride his bike home to his and gale's apartment while drunk after a party. gale gets a call at midnight from a sheepish john asking if he can come drive him to the hospital, and of course he does, though after his initial concern when he picks john up at the side of some random street, he's fuming at john's idiocy.

"you could've rode into traffic, john. jesus, you're gonna give me a stroke one of these days, you gotta start using your brain more." and john's drenched in cold–sweat from pain as he cradles his arm to his chest, head tilted back against the headrest and trying not to curse out every red light as his head spins, but he still cracks a weak smile and says "c'mon buck, you'd be bored if i started using my brain." gale glances over and the stern look is enough to shut john up.

this injury leads to gale having to help him with certain tasks for a bit, like shaving his face, brushing his teeth, doing his hair, tying shoes, etc. john's stubborn the day after, independent to a fault, refusing to ask for help, and gale watches with mild amusement/hidden winces, not wanting to push because he knows by now it'll only make john dig his heels in. gale only decides that enough is enough when he's walking past the half–open bathroom door the next afternoon and suddenly hears a sharp inhale and a stream of profanities and pokes his head in to find john's cut his jaw trying to shave with his left hand.

the intimacy and domesticity of it all– john pretends he's inconvenienced, but once he realizes this means he gets to stare at gale's focussed face up close as he sits on the bathroom counter and gale stands between his legs carefully shaving away his stubble, he's a lot less reluctant to accept help. but being that close to gale's face and being able to unabashedly study his long lashes and the curve of his lips is dangerous for john's lack of impulse control, barely keeping his pining under wraps from the moment they'd met, let alone with this newfound proximity they have to fall into the routine of.

so john has fun being a shithead on purpose during these moments, both to distract his yearning brain and for his own entertainment, just yapping away while gale's frustratedly trying to grab him by his jaw and hold him still for five seconds. biting down on the toothbrush when gale's trying to do a proper job of brushing his teeth so gale has to wrestle it away like he's playing tug of war with a dog, being an asshole and jerking his shoe to the side while gale's doing up his laces for him, heart leaping at the thrill he gets from gale's touches getting firmer when he's fed up, or from being pinned by irritated blue eyes.

he has no idea gale's pining just as hard, because gale's a master of concealing emotions in thanks to a very different upbringing than john's, and because while gale doesn't hide his queerness, he's not as open with it as john is. but gale's losing his mind just as much each time john needs his help, and the way he feels his self control slipping scares him.

this little dance around each other probably comes to a peak when john's being extra difficult one day while gale's trying to tame his wild curls for him. gale's got john pressed back against the bathroom counter with a scowl, working his gelled fingers through thick dark hair, and john can barely think straight because oh, has he ever spent an ungodly amount of time thinking about gale's hands in his hair under very different circumstances.

john's got a grin so big it near splits his face in half as he purposefully leans out of gale's reach, pulling every annoying thing he can think of because if he focuses too hard on gale's motions, he's gonna pop a very inconvenient boner with no hope of concealing it from gale with the way he's pressed up against him.

but gale's got twenty minutes until his next class and it's a ten minute walk from their apartment, and he's at the end of his rope, so he finally snaps and without giving it a second thought he closes the last bit of distance between them to grab at the back of john's hair, and he pulls, hard.

the smile slides off john's face as his mouth falls open and his hips reflexively jerk forward and whatever scolding gale was about to give him dies in his throat because holy shit. there's a few seconds where both of them just stare at each other wide eyed with their hearts pounding, john internally spiralling because he thinks he's just fucked everything up, gale internally spiralling because oh my god, he hasn't been misreading john's behaviour around him.

gale whispers a "fuck" and, more impulsive than he's ever allowed himself to be, goes in for the kiss, hand still tight in john's hair, and john whines into his mouth and his hands fly to gale's waist and everything gets heated really quick– until gale pulls away with a gasp for breath, both of them panting, cheeks flushed and eyes heavy. and then gale's ducking out of the bathroom and grabbing his backpack from the entry way and all but sprinting out of the apartment.

john's left standing there harder than he's ever been in his life but also panicking because he's not sure whether he's fucked up or whether gale's just overwhelmed, because he knows gale well enough to know he likes his space when big things happen.

but gale also knows john well enough to know how big of an overthinker he is; they've probably had to work through some incidents where their communication styles have clashed over the few months they've been roomies. so after his hands stop shaking enough while he's walking to campus, he types out a message to john letting him know 'I'm all good. Sorry for running, was gonna be late for class and panicked. Talk later, yeah?'

and john sighs in relief, texts back a 'np. sounds good :)' and then promptly shoves a hand down his pants and comes embarrassingly quick with the sting of gale's hands in his hair still fresh in his mind.

they talk things out somewhat, blahblahblah plotting problem for future me, but they're both shy and awkward around each other for a bit, which is so out of character for john and how obnoxiously flirty and loud mouthed he normally is.

so maybe what finally breaks them out of this tiptoeing around each other after a few days is something stupid– specifically, john ends up pent up and frustrated because trying to get off with his left hand just isn't doing it for him. and he's one of those 'once a day minimum' guys, so this isn't something he can just ignore; finds his temper is shorter, and he can't focus as well, etc. drama queen.

either gale comments on it lightheartedly and john blurts out his problem unthinkingly, or john makes an offhand joke about it, and gale thinks john's lack of impulse control is starting to rub off on him, because after a beat of silence, he gets out an "i can help."

john's head snaps over to look at him so fast he feels like he gives himself whiplash, eyes comically rounded, wondering if he's heard gale wrong or if gale's making a rare flirtatious joke. gale blinks back at him, looking just as surprised, tips of his ears going a little pink, but he doesn't laugh or throw in a 'only kidding!'

mumbles a "y'know, if you want," second guessing himself as if what happened in the bathroom a few days before isn't in john's top three best things that have ever happened to him list. john gets out a "yeah– yeah, i want," uncharacteristically nervous, and gale nods, turning his attention back to his laptop. and john just stands there in the kitchen, flabbergasted, shifting uncertainly.

works up the courage to shyly ask, "like. now? or." and he feels like he's never fumbled the bag so hard in his life, unable to remember the last time he's felt shy when talking about sex–related stuff, realizes just how bad his crush on gale's gotten. beyond a crush, at this point. and it makes it worse that gale's so nonchalant now, humming to himself as if in deep thought before saying "later. i've gotta get this assignment done."

john loses his mind over those next few hours, trying to be patient and give gale space to focus, but he's half hard the whole time and can't think about anything other than what gale means by 'helping'. gale can sense his impatience from the other side of their apartment, and he can't help the way it makes him smile to himself, having fun teasing john without even needing to do anything, and without john knowing it's fully intentional.

unfortunately this arrangement, however it plays out, probably leads to a lotta miscommunication and repression of feelings, because they're both dumb boys who suck at communicating, neither one of them wanting to ruin a good thing (aka an inevitable friends with benefits situation) by bringing up their feelings for the other. but there's plenty of hot sex and light kink exploration in the meantime, and eventually they sort their shit out, likely by accident like every other situation they've stumbled into together.

and not to cliffhang pre–smut, but i'll leave it there because this is way too long and if i do turn it into a oneshot i don't wanna write it all out of my system into this drabble before it makes it into a fic loll <3

[mysharona1987]

[topazadine]

I have to rave about @dlbookediting's work!

I sent her over a copy of my upcoming book, Pride Before a Fall, for a final once-over before the ARC release. Dominique was incredibly thorough, even taking the time to double back and ensure that her comments were consistent. She even went ahead and read the first book, 9 Years Yearning, without prompting so that she was fully caught up.

What I especially appreciated about Dominique's comments was her ability to offer solutions that strengthen my voice rather than change it.

Her suggestions considered both my narrative vision and readers' needs. As writers, it's so easy for us to get caught up in what we want our text to look like without thinking of our readers, but Dominique seamlessly bridged the gap between my intention and an audience's experience.

I loved her reactions to the writing, as this is so helpful for knowing what potential readers may find intriguing. These small comments can be quite the ego boost, and I was glad that she sprinkled them in with her thoughtful critique.

She also caught inconsistencies that I hadn't even considered, explaining in depth while they may throw readers off without dictating what I could do. This is just one example of her methodical approach:

At times, I can get a bit too ornate and experimental, but Dominique gently brought me back down to earth, ensuring that I didn't leave my readers confused.

From her comments, I could tell that she had thoroughly pondered every single word and its total impact on the text. It's rare to find an editor with such a keen eye and a true appreciation for their client's work. Her work felt much like a dedicated seamstress gently mending any tears in a tapestry, ensuring it shines just as the creator intended.

I'm deeply grateful for her help in sprucing up Pride Before a Fall right in time for its ARC release, and I strongly encourage you giving her services a try!

You can also check out Dominique at @philosophika and read pieces of her novel-in-progress over at @thesorcerersapprentice!

[underwaterspaghetti314]

Jeez Louise I want to see the Abbot get redeemed actually. I didn’t at first. I wanted that man to have a most unfortunate end because he’s yet another person using God to justify hate-driven atrocities. But Mizrak showing up and saying “Even moments from the end, a thief repented and was forgiven” has made me want this redemption so bad.

Just once I want to see a narrative talk about an all-forgiving God and actually pull through with it. God can forgive everything if you are truly repentant. I feel like if the Abbot can put in the work to undo his actions and fight back against Erzebet, he could be forgiven. I don’t need him to get everything he wanted. As far as I can tell his relationship with Maria and Tara are beyond over. If he could look with his special eyes he could see that those are dead and rotting at the bottom of a lake. I don’t even need him to live to the end of it (as much as I’d like that. Some redemption arcs love to just be “oh they’re good now but now they’re dead so we don’t need to worry about how that works!” and I’d prefer if that didn’t happen here, but if it does oh well). I just want to see someone fall into Hell’s trap in this show and find a way to escape it.

I also think his redemption arc could be very interesting story wise. In that discussion with Mizrak he said that he could hear the quiet laughter of Hell waiting for him in the shadows, and he’s already resigned himself to damnation when he dies. I think that kind of sad resignation is one of Hell’s greatest weapons. They make you sort of sunk-cost your way into more evil by making you think you’re already a bad person, so it’s no use trying to improve. And combine this with a similar arc going on with the Abbot’s night creatures (literal creatures from Hell who choose good anyway, rejecting Hell with whatever actions they can), and I think we’ve got an interesting arc here. We got the Abbot, a supposedly holy man who believes himself firmly in Hell’s clutches, and the night creatures, quite literally born from Hell but choosing to fight against it anyway.

Everyone surrounding the Abbot has something to teach him about being better if he’s just willing to listen. Mizrak seems more devoted to God (teachings-wise at least), Tara knows more about love than he does, Maria knows more about justice than he does, and the night creatures know more about never resigning yourself to evil than he does. He just needs to get out of his despair and learn from these people already!

Anyway time to watch the second half of this season and see if I’m horribly wrong or not.

[qkayoostudio]

available for art commissions & editing work!

Hi dear friends,

I've given my carrd a much needed update! You can now find all my commission info on there, as well as my editing/proofreading/sensitivity work.

I'm available for character commissions, sprite work, CGs, and promo art. I'm also happy to do concept art or commercial work; if you're interested in either of these please get in touch! Prices on these may vary opposed to what is listed in my Terms of Service.

...And there's my editing services! If you're interested, please give it a read. For any questions/inquiries, please reach me at qkayoomail@gmail.com!

Thanks so much for taking a look! 💖

[fieldtomatoes]

got a promotional email from my university's WRITING CENTRE that made me absolutely irate but I printed it off and circled and corrected all the errors (there were 12 btw. in 18 sentences.) and I've calmed down a bit now

[cor-in-paradiso]

seems like my degree in languages is only useful for costumer service online, the other 30 options I had are all already taken by AI </3

[owlbearwrites]

that's one fine-looking manuscript you've got there

tl;dr: if you've got a book in the works, I want to proofread and/or edit it; I'm good at what I do, and because I'm building a new business from the ground, my rates are on a sliding scale that will put a Slip'n'Slide to shame; message for deets; trust me, I'm more scared of you than you are of me.

This isn't a pitch. (Although I never could resist a douchey post title.) This is just me reaching out to fellow writeblrs, with a so-informal-I-had-to-blur-my-zoom-background offer/request.

If you have a manuscript in the works, I want to proofread and/or edit it. Maybe you're planning to self-publish, maybe you want to score a small press, maybe you want to pitch to agents. Heck, maybe you're book-binding a fic and want it to be as shiny as it gets! Whatever you're planning to do with your book and whatever your budget is, I want to help.

I'm starting my own business as an independent editor. It's something I've wanted to do for a very long time, and last week, my steady freelance writing gig of eight years folded in the scope of one afternoon due to corporate shenanigans (yay, capitalism!), and I figured: if I was looking for a sign, that was it.

I'm a good writer, and also a good editor. I have an eye for detail, an ear for language, and a butt for staying in the chair until the job is done. Also, thanks to my deep roots in fanfic, I've got a ton of skill points in characterization, voice and the ability to match a story's style and vibe.

I've been writing and editing my own and other people's work for the best part of 15 years now, but because a lot of it was ghostwriting, putting together a portfolio is going to take some time. Having an editor or proofreader credit on a handful of titles that are finished and out there would make a world of difference: which is why, if you take a chance on me at this so-early-it's-still-late stage, you'll get a very low price, very good service, and a fiercely loyal word wrangler on your side for years to come.

This is where I should sign off with an enthusiastic call to action. I've tried a bunch and deleted them all. I know you're supposed to project confidence at times like this, but I've written way too much marketing copy in my day, and being fake on the page makes me queasy. I like being honest, and the honest thing is, I'm trying something I've wanted to do for a long time, and I'm excited, and also scared. Starting a new thing is hard, but I know I can do a good job if a handful of people give me a chance. So if you're one of them, message me, and I will treat your words with the care that they deserve. I am a writer myself, after all. I know words are precious. I know stories matter. I want to help you tell yours.

Thank you. 💛