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quiet-saint · 9 months ago

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"𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐢𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞"

Pairing: Vergil/fem!reader, android!vergil/reader

Cw: nsfw/+18, spanking, some light degradation, a little angst, comfort at the end. Reader is a bit touch-starved, didn’t have a good childhood. I think that's it?

Summary: You were assigned an android by your father against your will. Vergil wants to make the situation better for you both but you don’t make it easy.

A/n: Y’all this is pure self-indulgence again. Idk I kinda don't like the way it turned out but i’m throwing it into the void anyway bc i spent way too much time on it. Not really proofread.

ִ ࣪𖤐

It's been a little over a month since your father–whom you haven't had contact with in years—assigned an android of his own creation to you. A combat android, built for protection and fit for bodyguard work. Part of the Sparda line, of which there have only been four created before the entire project was scrapped. Deviancy seemed inevitable.

Vergil doesn't talk much about his brothers and refuses to tell you about Sparda, the first android of their type. Whatever. You don't much care. You don't care much for anything these days, really.

Prior to Vergil's arrival, you lived alone. Apathetic in a shitty apartment on the outskirts of Red Grave City, away from your father's technological empire. You tried for years to get in touch with him but he left you to be raised by tutors and nannies that came and went. As you got older, you didn't want anything to do with him or his advancements in technology. So much so when you turned eighteen you never touched the money your father put into your bank account. Changed your last name and moved away. Thought that was the end of it. Didn't think you'd have anything to do with him ever again.

But here you are, living in a luxury apartment with the android your father assigned to you without your permission. Vergil's very presence dredges up years of resentment and abandonment you thought you buried so deep within you they ceased to exist.

It's no wonder then, why you begin to backtrack to your room as soon as you catch sight of Vergil seated on the couch in the dark living room. You turn on your heel, biting your tongue. You only spent time around him if you had to and even then you tolerated him.

You take a step back toward your room, being as quiet as possible, not wanting to draw the android's attention.

"Come here." Vergil says and you still, inwardly cursing. Of course he heard you. Android hearing and all that. You're certain he knows what your heart rate is right now, your temperature. You take a deep breath and turn back to face the living room, glaring at the back of Vergil's head as he flips a page in his book, continuing to read. Unaffected by the lack of light. Casual and relaxed.

"What?" You say sharply, crossing your arms over your chest in frustration, unable to resist the slight rocking back and forth on your feet.

"I want to talk. Come here." He repeats, with that same low, gentle tone he uses to get you to eat. The windows of the highrise apartment are blacked out, blocking out any potential prying eyes yet giving you a clear, if less bright, look at the large buildings of the city.

"I won't tell you a third time." You drop your arms to your sides and fight the urge to stomp over like a child throwing a tantrum. Slowly you patter over, hallway carpet giving way to smooth wood flooring. You come to stand in front of Vergil. He closes his book with a faint thump, sets it down on the armrest of the blue velvet chesterfield sofa. He then pats the space beside him. "Sit." Spoken like an order. You bite the inside of your cheek but comply, keeping some space between you two. The little lamp on the side stand comes on and you know it's Vergil's doing. You blink a little as your eyes adjust to the change in lighting.

"Okay. Talk." You mumble, glancing over at him. Unfair how he can look so impeccable. He's dressed in a white button up shirt and black slacks. The top two buttons are undone to reveal a bit of his pale throat and clavicle. His silvery-white hair is slicked back in his preferred style.

Vergil's shifts to face you, his knee a hair's breadth from bumping your thigh. He has an elbow resting on the back of the sofa, two fingers along his temple. "Oh? Two words this time. I didn't know you were capable." He says with a teasing lilt.

Your nails dig crescent moons into your right palm. "Did you ask me to sit here just to torment me?"

Vergil chuckles, the sound low, incredibly human and unexpectedly pleasant. "No. I... want to make things easier for you and I." That catches you off guard, your eyebrows pulling together slightly in a mix of confusion and surprise. Vergil is being nice, and you hate it. Hate the way he uses that gentle, patient tone. Hate the way it makes you want to give in and drop your carefully crafted detached demeanor. Hate the way hearing that tone makes you crave his approval. Your knee begins to bounce as you cross your arms over your chest. You huff in frustration as you turn your head to look at him. "Like anything will make it easier to be babysat by a fucking machine?" You snap.

In a flash Vergil grips your jaw, thumb along one cheek and his fingers pressing into your other, forcing your mouth into a pout. "Careful." He whispers leaning in, artificial breath warm as it fans lightly over your face. You can't speak clearly with the way your lips are pressed into an unwilling pout. Your eyes narrow as you catch the faint upturned corners of his mouth, anger flaring at the sight. His grip on your jaw lingers a moment longer before releasing.

"I don't need a hunk of plastic to—" You're cut off by Vergil's right hand fisting the collar of your shirt, exposing the warm soft skin of your tummy. You gasp in surprise. Vergil wastes no time in using his hold on your shirt to haul you over his lap, draping you over his thighs with ease. The action knocking a bit of air from your lungs. Your hands press flat along the rough area rug of the living room, your socked feet slip a little as you attempt to push yourself up and off his lap.

"I was wondering when you'd break." A warm hand comes down to press at your lower spine, resting just above the waistband of your jeans, the tip of a pinky slipping teasingly below the denim. The small skin to skin contact makes you dizzy, causing you to still, heart stuttering in your chest as your breathing becomes shallow. "W-what the hell are you doing?" You ask, craning your neck and pushing up on your hands to try and look at him, hair getting in your face.

Vergil's free hand reaches down to wrap delicately around your throat, not applying any pressure. No squeezing. His touch is soft, near feather light. Grounding, even. Vergil removes it in favor of giving your hair a brief stroke as if you're some pet in his lap and not a grown adult. He leans down a little.

"You," he begins voice quiet and a little rough in the low light of the living room. "Are going to say Yamato if you feel unsafe. Or if this gets to be too much."

Your breath catches in your throat, heat pooling in your stomach immediately even as your brain is slow to piece this all together. "W-what?" You ask in disbelief but there's heat low in your tummy and Vergil's hand on that bit of exposed skin above your waistband. Comforting, teasing, and intoxicating all at once. "I want you to say it now." Vergil's voice is a coaxing purr. You swallow, tongue darting out to lick at your lips, mouth suddenly feeling dry. "Y-yamato." You stammer, face hot as you hang your head.

"Good." Is all you get before Vergil's hands go to your jeans, fingers hooking in the waistband and pulling the denim halfway down your thighs. Swift and rough. You gasp, fingers digging a little into the area rug below you. Vergil runs a hand up the back of your right thigh, thumb brushing along the crease where your ass meets it, just below the edge of your underwear. You begin to squirm.

"I've been wanting to correct your behavior for a while now." He says and you huff in indignation. "M-my behavior is fine."

Vergil scoffs and pinches your ass cheek harshly. You jolt, a squeak tumbling forth. "Excluding the rude insults from a moment ago, you're rather... polite most of the time, yes." Vergil replies, running his palm over the area he pinched soothingly before giving a light squeeze. You moan softly. Embarrassment and molten want swirl in your stomach, your senses in overdrive. Vergil snickers. "But even I get tired of one word answers and sulking. I think I might have more of a personality than you." He says dryly as he grips the waistband of your underwear, bunching it up and pulling the cloth taught against your slit and you can feel how slick you've become. You press up a little on your toes, gasping as he pulls the fabric tighter, nearly wedging the fabric in your middle.

"Ah, wet already." Vergil all but purrs as he ghosts his thumb over the damp spot with his free hand. Your breath catches in your throat, heart beating wildly against your ribcage. He clicks his tongue in mock disapproval. "I've hardly done anything, dear. A few touches and a pinch really get you that worked up?" You whimper in humiliation as Vergil tugs the material down to rest under the curve of your ass.

Without warning Vergil's palm connects with the soft skin of your right cheek, stinging and sharp and aching. You cry out in surprise. "H-hey!"

"I want an apology." Vergil states coolly, rubbing and gently squeezing the reddening flesh of your rear. Your mouth struggles to form words, head full of want. Vergil scoffs and smacks harshly against your left cheek this time. Once, twice, three times before doing the same to your right. He hits sharp and hard, stealing the breath from your lungs. You've never been spanked before, haven't received any real physical discipline growing up. Your nannies and even your father in your early years opted for isolation. You wonder if you'll bruise. The thought shouldn't make you ache and leak but it does, hole clenching around nothing. "I-I'm sorry!" You squeal, panting as your arms tremble from holding a bit of your weight up at the awkward angle. He could have laid you over his lap on the sofa but you suspect Vergil wanted the position to be a little uncomfortable.

"Oh you can do better than that."

You swallow and collect yourself as best you can. "I'm sorry for calling you a hunk of plastic and a machine." You mumble, slumping a little, head hanging once more, hair hiding your face. Humiliated and turned on, out of your element and overwhelmed. The word yamato rests in your throat at the ready but you don't want to say it. You don't feel as if you need to.

Vergil hums as if in thought. "And? What of your behavior?" He asks, soothing his palm over the pink heated skin of your ass. You nod in understanding. "I'm... sorry for that, too. I-I'll stop... sulking." You stammer, the words awkward on your tongue. When was the last time you had to apologize for anything? When was the last you actually had anyone to apologize to?

"Better." Vergil murmurs, pulling the fabric of your underwear back up to cover you and you whine, aching and needy. Vergil hushes you as he pulls your jeans up to your rear. He taps your hip and helps you stand. His pale fingers tug at your belt loops, pulling you close to stand between his spread legs. Your hands go to his shoulders for support as your knees feel a tad weak.

Vergil looks up at you from his spot on the sofa, maintaining eye contact as he pulls up your pants the rest of the way. An unnameable intensity in his pale blue gaze. He smooths out your shirt, however the collar of it is stretched from Vergil using it to haul you over his lap.

"Sit with me." A soft command. He leans back against the blue velvet sofa, draping an arm along the back of it. The ache between your thighs begins to fade. You've never been in this sort of situation before. Fuck. You've hardly had a meaningful conversation with Vergil and you certainly haven't been spanked until tonight. Although it wasn't much. A million questions flood your head but you don't have the energy to ask them or word them properly.

Overwhelmed you fall back on simply listening. You settle onto the cushion beside him, ass aching. Vergil moves his arm from the back of the sofa to pull you further into his side. He tucks some of your hair behind your right ear.

"Are you alright?" Vergil asks and you nod as you stare at your lap. He sighs and his free hand comes up to gently grab your chin so you're forced to look at him. His brows are knit together, mouth set in a slight frown as he looks you over. "Come here." He says, not really waiting for an answer before reaching and pulling you into his lap, his arm moving from your shoulder to wrap around your lower back. Your left side grows warm as it's pressed to his front and his right hand rubs over your hip in a soothing manner. Unsure of how to respond to Vergil's affectionate physical contact you stiffen momentarily. You haven't been hugged since... when? You can't remember.

Gradually, you will yourself to relax, allowing your head to rest on his shoulder. You'd expect an android to smell like plastic but Vergil smells good. Like sandalwood and vanilla with the faintest hint of something metallic. Does he wear cologne? You wonder. Vergil's hand not on your hip goes to your hair, stroking softly, palm sometimes grazing your cheek. It feels good to be held. It's warm here. Safe. Secure.

A lump forms in your throat. Heat creeps into your cheeks as your vision blurs. A soft, broken sound leaves your throat as your lashes grow damp and spikey from tears that slide down your cheeks to trail down your chin. Vergil sighs again and you sniffle. A small strained "'m sorry" leaving your lips. Vergil shakes his head, using the pad of his thumb to wipe away the tears under an eye. "Don't be. I was prepared for this sort of outcome." You huff a quiet laugh against his shoulder that's more air than anything. "H-how did you know I'd cry?" You ask, sniffling as you blink back more tears. Vergil resumes stroking your hair. "Going off your behavior and your history, there was a high probability you would react this way."

"You can... calculate that?" You whisper.

Vergil hums. "Not accurately." He answers but doesn't bother to elaborate further.

Tired but not as overwhelmed, the gentle stroking of your hair and the warm hand on your hip has your limbs growing heavy.

"It's alright." Vergil murmurs, lips near your forehead. "You can sleep. We’ll talk more about this tomorrow."

As much as you try to fight sleep in an attempt to drag this moment out, to stay here, held and warm and wanted, it's impossible. Your body grows lax and your eyes fall shut.

"Sleep well." Vergil says, low and whisper soft against your hair.

ִ ࣪𖤐

Y'all idek...

#vergil x reader #vergil sparda x reader #vergil/reader #vergil sparda/reader #vergil x you #vergil sparda x you #my writing #lwk don't fw this 😔

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drarry-reccage · 8 months ago

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Notes on a resurrection by newleaves (126k, M)

Tags: Unspeakable Draco Malfoy, Professor Harry Potter, Bring back Black, Secret Relationships

The Potters stop arguing, for the moment. They look over, their expressions matched in steely irritation. Thankfully, for Draco’s nerves, they’re easy to distinguish besides this. Harry is full of storms, as usual, on his feet as he paces the rug not far from the door, shoulders up around his ears. His father is leaning artfully against the honey-brown Chesterfield sofa, one foot crossed over the other and hands in his pockets, all clean lines and angles. It’s not clear why they’ve been keeping each other company, but Draco supposes that Harry at least can’t resist throwing himself at a problem until it’s either solved or successfully killed him. “Masters and Mistress,” drawls Kreacher, living for this moment. Draco’s often thought that it’s a cruelty, the way that Harry and the others so frequently refuse to let Kreacher express himself. “Mr Potter. May Kreacher present Mr Malfoy…” The pause is exquisite. “And his guest.” This is Lupin’s cue to come out from behind the doorframe, and Draco gets the impression that he’s very nearly run off again. “Just me, I’m afraid,” he says with half a wave. There is the requisite pause as the room takes him in, but then it’s James Potter who reacts – or, more accurately, erupts. Collapsing away from the sofa, he lights up like nothing that Draco has ever seen, breaking into an ebullient laugh, storming movement and a bellow. “You fuzzy cunt, Moony – what?!”

My notes are under cut, containing what could be considered spoilers (though the big plot points I mention didn't come as a surprise to me while reading).

(rec by @dontthrowsticksatme)

I LOVE the characterisations in this fic. The way the marauders are portrayed are *chef's kiss*.

I especially love how Harry is juxtaposed with his posh, happy-go-lucky dad. Who, after finding out their old friends Frank and Alice Longbottom have been in St Mungo's all this time, suggests they should have a barbecue. For Neville. If the weather's nice.

Or with cute Lily and her thick accent, and the way her love for Harry sparkles off the screen immediately and in every way. Or little shit Teddy meeting his dad, and the way Draco only encourages him by setting up a prank the day the two meet.

Drarry is almost - but not entirely - secondary to all these family relationships, but their love is a very sweet one, sketched in moments woven throughout the story.

Draco's character comes through in subtle ways, throwaway lines, funny actions and mostly the way the other characters look at him, interact with him. He has the worst blind spots for how much people like him.

And you cannot help but love Harry through Draco's softly adoring eyes. I want to wrap him in my arms and hug tight. Actually, I want to wrap all of them in my arms and hug tight.

#drarry #harco #drarry fanfic #drarry fic #drarry fic recs #drarry fic rec #hpdm #hpdm fanfic #harry x draco #draco x harry #harry potter x draco malfoy #2019 #newleaves #rec by dontthrowsticksatme

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yorithesims · 1 year ago

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[L-sims]Butler&Kids PosePack

Tumblr Only Sharing ☆Kids Poses Self Convert ( age conversion )

Poselist / No Poselist 2file Include. 5Poses(+Other body types)

DOWNLOAD

SFS / MediaFire

Credit：I recommend♡ ・SYL Chesterfield Sofa Set (Armchair) ・Buckley’s OMSP Resizers(70％ Resizers)

@sssvitlanz♡

#sims3 #ts3 poses #posedl #my poses #ts3 simblr

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rcreveal · 12 days ago

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Dare I Close My Eyes to Slumber-Ch 1

Aziraphale doesn't sleep and he's always passed it off as a sign of his incredible work ethic. But is that the only reason? What if he's never been able to sleep and has 6000+ years of insomnia instead? Share Aziraphale's attempts at sleeping through the ages and his final success after he calls on Crowley for help just after their celebratory meal at the Ritz.

This is a sweet and caring canon compliant Aziraphale POV (though some angst and worry on his part) with through the ages relationship development between Aziraphale and Crowley.

Thanks to my beta readers at the Whickber St Writer's association: @playdohangel, @sakascal, @sixshotsinatumbllr, @bohoteacher

Chapter 1

If ever an afternoon were made for napping, it was this one. And perhaps Adam had recreated the world with ‘perfect napping afternoons-adults only, kids wanna play undisturbed,’ in mind. Sunshine broke through the skylight of A. Z. Fell and Co. bookshop, illuminating dust motes that played merry games of chase among the innumerable drafts in the old building. An errant sunbeam had slipped over the railing and down the spiral stairs to play in fiery curls after passing over a dark pair of sunglasses set on a horse statue. The tick of the grandfather clock steadily marked the passing of the seconds. Even the gentle breaths of the demon sleeping on the Chesterfield sofa added to the drowsy afternoon.

Aziraphale set down his pen with a click, unable to concentrate. This only made Crowley smack his lips and roll up on his side. If the demon had been awake, he would have seen an uncharacteristic furrow in the angel’s brow and a frown on his lips. How did Crowley do it? Sleep! For over six thousand years, Crowley had napped on sun warmed rocks, dozed in hayricks, slumbered in beds, always waking with a smile on his lips and a spring in his step.

What a thing for only a demon to master! Personally, Aziraphale had given it up as a bad job a long, long time ago.

***

Aziraphale remembered roaming all over the Garden, utterly charmed by the creatures! So much more amazing ‘in person’ as it were than ‘on paper.’ Even the mock-ups in Heaven hadn’t prepared him for the cheeky way the little red-breasted robin hopped towards him with unexpected intelligence in those liquid black eyes. She was observing him! Or the delight he felt in the whir and flutter of her tiny wings when she accompanied him on his explorations of the Garden.

Most of his time was spent observing the new creations obsessively. Certainly the animals’ breathtaking diversity was a never-ending delight, but so was finding the things that they had in common.

For instance, breathing. Everyone was doing it, animals, insects, trees! Taking a deep breath, he smelled. Chemicals, in the air, from the soil, and plants and creatures, he could detect them! Once he’d started, breathing just happened on its own. Usually breathing was slow and regular, but it would change to be faster or slower depending on what he was doing, or along with his own little gasps and sighs of delight.

Then there was consumption - everything had to eat something, well, except the plants, although come to think of it they were ‘eating’ the sun and air and water weren’t they? Oh, and everything made waste, too. While observing consumption and waste was fascinating, if rather squelchy, he had no desire to experience that cycle of life. A bit too messy.

Sleeping however, that looked quite fine. On his belly peering down a burrow in a meadow Aziraphale had observed rabbits fluffed up and nestling down to sleep. All of the creatures slept in some form or fashion, some quietly reposing in ones and twos or clumps. The special beings, humans, cuddled when they slept. Every being he observed was relaxed, without care, full of trust that they could completely abandon themselves to a state where they couldn’t see, barely attended to what they heard, felt, or smelt! Why, even the snake-shaped demon slept coiled up in the sun. Sleep looked so peaceful. Peace was a blessing from God, so it stood to reason that sleep must be a blessing! Since he was an angel and angels were all about blessings, he ought to try this ‘sleep’.

Following the general theme of making somewhere soft to curl up, he gathered some sweet smelling grasses in a meadow where he might see the night sky. Laying down on his side he fluffed a great white wing over himself as the cool evening air spread over the Garden. Oh, how eagerly he awaited the blessing of slumber when he closed his eyes that night in Eden.

As Aziraphale relaxed away from his duties, questions rose in his mind, terrible, dangerous questions.

What happens if a mouse or an insect eats the special apples? Will they be in trouble, too? Is it just the humans? Why them? Won’t it be hard for humans to resist a taste of apple if they have to walk by the tree every day? It smells so delicious, and the fruits are so pretty!

Wildly, his thoughts jumped to a totally different tract. Even more dangerous, since he knew what happened to those who uttered such questions aloud, what had happened to the star-making angel he’d helped who had first asked.

Why does all this have to end? The star garden we made was so lovely!

Gasping, he had sat up from his nest, looking around wildly, heart thumping. Had anyone noticed? Were those his thoughts? But he’d never thought like that before! Not really. Not totally. Not when he was awake. He’d made sure of that!

The mental bulwarks he’d constructed after the Great War had kept his mind from straying towards even the hint of such thoughts for aeons. He certainly wouldn’t ask those questions aloud! His stomach clenched with worry while his lips pressed in determination. Asking those questions wasn’t part of the Great Plan! Everyone who had asked those sorts of questions in the Beginning had …they’d had to leave! Leave the Light.

With an effort, his mind firmly closed on the terrible memory of wailing angels, their faces shocked and horrified, falling as they struggled to fly, the gravity of the place Below pulling them down as they were cast from Heaven. The light of the grace of God being pulled away, leaving them dim and darkening as they plummeted from sight.

Leave was a word that would have to stand in for that dreadful memory. Images of the Starmaker angel he had once assisted come to his mind, though that angel’s name remains out of reach. The lack of memory terrifies in its own way, like even the Starmaker’s name was erased when God’s grace was withdrawn. Hurriedly Aziraphale puts those memories away, too. Upbraids himself not to try and remember the angelic names of those that left.

The angel Starmaker was a demon now, he had left, too.

Shaking, his breathing ragged and shivering through his nose, Aziraphale got up and walked stiffly back to his post on the Eastern Gate, pacing there as the innumerable stars came out in the vault of Heaven.

Watching the slow twirl of the night sky overhead, Aziraphale pondered how such inappropriate questions had come from his mind. An angel wouldn’t think such thoughts and he certainly was an angel! Such thoughts did not come up in his usual waking existence. He diligently watched his thoughts and if any whiff of such a thought came up, it was rooted out and thrown away into the rubbish heap. Where such things belonged!!!

Unfortunate that the rubbish had just been dumped all over him. (Unfortunate, he liked that, unfortunate was a much better word than terrifying.)

Aziraphale sat looking up at the stars, tightly holding his own hands, sometimes wringing them.

Towards dawn he concluded, if sleeping meant being assailed by those unangelic thoughts , he simply wouldn’t sleep. He certainly didn’t have to. Looking out the Eastern Gate at the lightening sky of dawn, the soft clouds tinged with pinks and violets he decided sleep was just an Earthly thing, like consumption, not meant for angels. Smoothing down the front of his robes, he let out a breath he’d been holding, his visage smooth and serene again.

Then glancing sharply over the sleeping Garden, brow wrinkled in sudden concern, he thought, Oh! The poor creatures! Were they in danger from inappropriate thoughts like he had been? Their corporations required sleep, he recalled. How could he help? Should he try and watch over them? Straightening his back, he stood tall, determined to help in whatever way he could.

As sunlight gilded tear tracks on his face, Aziraphale determined he would do everything he could to stay in the Light and help the creatures here.

So he didn't sleep.

#good omens fanfic #protective aziraphale #crowley good omens #ineffable husbands #aziraphale pov #protective crowley #canon compliant #through the ages #aziraphale can't sleep #aziraphale learns to sleep #good omens aziraphale #aziraphale and crowley #developing relationship #worried aziraphale #fluff and romance #fluff and angst #banter #after s1 the ritz

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startledplatypus · 1 year ago

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intentionally horrid art by... me

Indyoni Crowley and the Temple of the Jade Egg

By @startledplatypus and @wingsofopal

Rated: E; Words: 8.3K; Genre: crackfic

CW: none, but being an April Fool's fic, "Dead Dove: Do Not Eat" is in effect

Summary:

Aziraphale receives an unexpected gift from the new shop on Whickber Street and asks Crowley to help him figure out how to use it. Since they're both already a bit pissed, what would have been a weird evening anyway goes completely pear-shaped... or, in this case, egg-shaped.

Involves the improper use of a yoni egg, tampons, lubricant, and fire. Involves the dubious use of French and a lisp, but not a French lisp. Trauma is arguably enacted upon a Chesterfield sofa as well as one desk and its entire contents.

Also be advised that there are two regrettable but noble deaths: Aziraphale's trousers and Crowley's vintage Bob Marley tee.

Excerpt (Read the entire story on ao3):

Aziraphale hiccoughed loudly.

“Think y’ve had enough, angel,” Crowley drawled, perched on the Chesterfield’s arm and barely hanging on to his coffee mug. They’d decided to get drunk enough that they shouldn’t use the crystal tonight.

“Crowley, dear, I am completely sober!’’ squealed the angel, almost sending his teacup airborne. By the grace of Someone, he managed to grab hold of it instead, using it to indicate the desk at which he sat. ”There is something I wanted to show you – I am not sure what it means, exactly. Maybe you can help me?’’

Crowley raised an eyebrow.

“I received a package recently, and it contained the most bizarre thing!”

This time Crowley hiccoughed. (The demon would’ve insisted that he belched. Crowley did not hiccough, according to Crowley.) “Wot is it?”

“Well, they seem to have been sent to all the Whickber Street shops. There’s a new…” Aziraphale realised his teacup was seriously askew and carefully set it on his desk. “What was I… oh! There’s a new shop on the corner. A… Sex Shop,” he enunciated, as if it might be a Clue.

*~*~*

Special thanks to our beta readers @theravenmuse, @spookysexy, and @cheeseplants as well as to the continual support of the awesome community at @goodomensafterdark!

#good omens #good omens after dark #good omens fanfiction #writers of after dark #good omens fic #aziraphale #crowley #aziracrow #goad #ineffable idiots #good omens crack #wow thats a lot of tags

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sofas2024 · 6 months ago

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Simple Nordic Modern Sofa Chair Relax White Storage Recliner Lazzy Sofa Chair Lounge Designer Canape Lit Apartment Furniture

Git it now

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zeehasablog · 6 months ago

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Chesterfield set

In 2015 Immortelle made this chesterfield sofa and armchair - there were 6 versions of each, for each of the swatches. Since 2015 there's been some changes in coding etc. and when trying to place the sofa in game, it caused issues and didn't want to work!

I have, therefore, taken the swatches and combined these so there's one each - with the colours: Black, brown, antique blue, olive, purple, and red. I have also ensured that these work perfectly in game! Not bad for cc almost 10 years old!

From what I can tell, Immortelle (or Brial-Immortelle?) hasn't made Sims 4 cc since 2016.

Apparently Lord Phillip Stanhope, the 4th Earl of Chesterfield (1694-1773) commissioned the first leather couch and settee. I'm not sure what shape the original Georgian chesterfield would have looked like - there's several different versions; all I can say, is that these were definitely around in the Victorian era.

Download the couch and armchair on my Patreon!!

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feralbutfluffy · 2 years ago

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31. Muriel

Muriel felt slightly guilty for leaving Crowley and Aziraphale, but it had started to feel like they might become a casualty in whatever silent war they were waging with each other, and their hand was still bruised from where Crowley had used it as a stress reliever. They shook it out, flexing their fingers, and wandered towards the desk, searching for their notebook; Muriel had decided they would rather spend the next hour writing down questions than in stilted conversation with the archangel Saraqael.

The only thing was they couldn’t remember where they had last seen it. It seemed unlikely they would have left it on the desk, but something looked different, and it drew their attention. Muriel was fairly certain they hadn’t touched anything on the desk (they held Nina responsible for the Eccles cake) but at some point somebody had; something was missing. Muriel chanced a quick glance back at Crowley and Aziraphale, who at least seemed to have started talking to each other, and returned to their inspection of the desk.

The little books. The little leather-bound books with no titles. They were gone.

Well .

Muriel, who for months had been entirely indifferent to Aziraphale’s personal items, was suddenly tremendously interested.

They flicked through sheafs of paper and felt around inside each compartment before finally locating them in the bottom left drawer. Muriel pulled them out carefully and curled up on the floor at the end of the Chesterfield sofa, their back to the base of it, tucked away in the corner out of sight.

They opened the first one.

‘The confidential journals of A.Z. Fell, Volume 712’

Oh.

Muriel rubbed their fingertip over the word ‘confidential’ and bit their lip nervously. They thought of Crowley confidently flicking open the file on Gabriel, ignoring any need for clearance or permission.

There was a thin ribbon of a bookmark, and Muriel turned to that page.

24th March 1941

Oh well, that was alright then. It wasn’t a recent confidential journal!

Dear Diary,

I had such a day last week as can scarcely be put into words.

It started with my first audacious foray into the world of secret intelligence. I had been pretending to collaborate with nazis with the aim of thwarting their nefarious plans when I was double-crossed by a woman I had believed to be a British spy!

(Ooh. Muriel shifted into a more comfortable position. A spy story!)

Luckily, just as I was beginning to dread the mountain of paperwork I would have to do after my seemingly inevitable discorporation, Crowley appeared.

I confess, I was surprised to see him. The last time we met (see volume 699), we did not part amicably. He had asked an impossible favour, and reacted poorly when I refused him. He had told me he did not need me, and I had told him the feeling was entirely mutual. Obviously.

And yet, here he was. He set foot on consecrated ground in order to rescue me from the consequences of my own hubris. Not only that, but he rescued my books! They were exceedingly rare first editions that I had collected over the years, very precious to me, and Crowley saved them from destruction without my so much as having to ask. He handed them over as if it were no big thing, as if it were second nature to protect a bag of books from being disintegrated by a bomb. He was extremely nonchalant about it, as if he were holding a door open or performing some other everyday act of politeness.

I think it must easily qualify as the kindest, most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me. Sometimes Crowley makes it very difficult to remember that he is a demon.

(Muriel had to agree.)

I asked if there was something, anything I could do to return the favour, and as I did, I worried for a moment that he might take advantage of my offer. There was a concern that he might ask more of me than I would be willing to give, and I am ashamed to admit that this concern was accompanied by a small thrill of excitement.

So naturally it was a great relief when he told me to forget it.

I fear my excitement at having escaped discorporation may have made me intemperate however, because I only became more audacious as the night wore on. I volunteered to fill in for a magician on the West End, which led to Crowley and I performing a trick called The Bullet Catch to thunderous applause! There was a small hiccup when a demon intent on charging Crowley as a traitor blocked our miracles, which made the performance rather more nerve-wracking than we had initially anticipated. Thankfully, Crowley has an impressively steady hand, and it all went off without a hitch!

I managed to extricate Crowley from that nastiness with the demon using nothing more than sleight of hand and a small amount of luck. Crowley hadn’t seemed too concerned, but he certainly looked relieved when he learned I had swiped the only proof the demons had of our relationship connection association.

(Muriel wondered if they performed this magic act by request? They would quite like to see it!)

We came back to the bookshop then and shared a celebratory candlelit dinner. We were in high spirits, drinking rather more wine than perhaps was wise. Crowley can be such good company; he has a truly brilliant mind and even if I disagree - and I usually do, he is a demon after all - his arguments are often very compelling. We talked and toasted and talked and drank deep into the night. We wound up lying on the floor in languid contentment, idly discussing… well I can hardly remember!

(Muriel's eyebrows raised at the news that Aziraphale drank anything other than cups of tea)

What I do remember is that at some point he said something unnecessarily kind and I felt such fondness for him in that moment that I gave him a friendly peck on the lips.

(!!!)

It did not signify anything more than amicable appreciation, and yet there was something about being in such unusually close proximity to him that made my heart hammer in my chest, presumably from fear. We are hereditary enemies, after all.

(Muriel sighed)

Crowley reacted not at all to this brazen gesture and - possibly due to my level of intoxication - I’m afraid I took his impassivity as something of a challenge. He lay there staring at the ceiling with his ankles crossed, deep, deep in his cups, and somehow still managed to look - as always - aggravatingly elegant and unruffled.

I was filled with the rather reckless urge to provoke him into discomposure.

(Muriel thought that really did not sound wise)

I reached out and patted his head.

(!!!)

I would never usually have taken such a liberty, so it surprised me when Crowley ignored it completely. I played with his hair then, thinking I might at least succeed in making him look mussed, but if anything it simply softened his edges slightly. It had the effect of making him look vulnerable, which is not a word I would ever usually associate with Crowley, and it was awfully endearing.

Of course he was positively stiff with horror at my having ruined his hairstyle, his lips pressed tightly together in a grim line. I cannot fully explain my consequent actions (beyond the fact that in the moment it seemed amusing) but I pressed the quickest of kisses to the corner of his hard mouth. Crowley for his part remained motionless, only watching me with those yellow-gold eyes.

They are really quite spectacular up close.

(Muriel was smiling to themselves)

I dared put my hand to Crowley's temple then, and he gripped my wrist with the quiet tension of someone who has been pushed too far. I admit I found his discomfiture highly entertaining, and instead of warning me, it pushed me to trace the mark of the serpent on his face. After everything, it was this tiny, feather-light gesture that undid his composure; Crowley practically vibrated at the touch.

Whatever it was I felt in that moment, I know I have never felt it before. Perhaps I, as an angel of the Lord, should have been indifferent to his reaction, but I was not. I am embarrassed to say I rather revelled in it! The power I felt from making cool, composed Crowley shudder from head to toe with only the gentlest graze of a fingertip was completely shocking.

I may have smirked.

(Muriel's eyes had gone soft and dreamy, but the corner of their mouth tugged up at this)

I am not sure how to report on what followed except to say that Crowley suddenly exploded into motion, pulled me against him, and kissed me with a staggering fierceness.

(!!!!!!!!)

In truth, to write that he kissed me feels insufficient. The word seems too small for something so intense. His fingers were pressing bruises into my back, and my hand was in his hair, and my body responded before my mind had any chance to draw level. His whole body was taut with some tightly leashed emotion, and it might have been devotion or destruction or both.

I had started teasing him with the intent of provoking him to discomposure, and I’m afraid I got rather more than I bargained for in that regard.

It felt so incredible wonderful overwhelming that I shook with it. I felt his hunger, and it forced me to recognise my own; this something sharp and desperate clawing at me on the inside. I identified it then as desire - reckless, thoughtless, desperate desire - and the realisation chilled me. Crowley must have noticed because the moment he saw my face he let me go immediately.

(Muriel groaned)

It all went downhill from there. We blamed each other. My pride was bruised, and I didn't want to admit I had acted like a complete libertine. I accused him of trying to tempt me.

He sat backed up against the bookshelf like a cornered animal, yellow eyes wide and horrified, hair still tousled from my hand. I felt frightened at the intensity of the feelings his kiss had unleashed, and I felt angry with myself for them, for having been weak.

He left.

I haven't seen him since.

Muriel closed the diary.

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mahashankh · 1 year ago

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50 Most Popular Types of Interior Design Styles- 02

Bridging Timelines: A Guide to Contemporary Classic Interior Design

Contemporary classic interior design is a harmonious blend of the old and the new, where timeless elegance meets modern sensibility. It's about creating spaces that feel both sophisticated and fresh, drawing inspiration from classic silhouettes and materials while incorporating contemporary elements for a dynamic and inviting atmosphere. Bridging Timelines: A Guide to Contemporary Classic Interior Design Shabby Chic Charm: Creating a Home Steeped in Nostalgia and Romance Embracing the Shadows: A Guide to Gothic Interior Design Art Nouveau: Nature's Symphony in Design Step into the Future: A Guide to High-Tech Interior Design Step into the Spotlight: A Guide to Hollywood Regency Interior Design Ahoy, Mateys! Dive into the Charm of Nautical Interior Design Saddle Up for Style: A Guide to Southwestern Interior Design Step Back in Time: A Guide to Victorian Interior Design Immerse Your Senses: A Guide to Moroccan Interior Design Finding Your Inner Peace: A Guide to Asian Zen Interior Design Groovy Grab Bag: A Deep Dive into Retro Interior Design Step into a Storybook: A Guide to Cottage Interior Design Breathe in the Mediterranean: A Guide to Tuscan Interior Design Crossing Borders, Crossing Styles: A Dive into Cultural Fusion Interior Design Skyscraper Chic: A Guide to Urban Modern Interior Design Key Characteristics of Contemporary Classic: - Neutral Color Palette with Accents: A foundation of warm or cool neutrals, like grays, beiges, or taupes, provides a timeless backdrop. Pops of color can be introduced through artwork, accent pillows, or upholstery for a touch of personality. - Clean Lines with Textural Layers: Clean lines and uncluttered surfaces define the contemporary aspect, while rich textures like velvet, linen, or wool add warmth and visual interest. - Classic Furniture with Modern Twists: Traditional furniture silhouettes, like wingback chairs or Chesterfield sofas, are reinterpreted with modern materials or updated proportions for a fresh take. - Statement Lighting: Lighting plays a crucial role in setting the mood. Opt for statement chandeliers or sculptural sconces for a touch of glamour, or sleek pendants for a more modern feel. - Artful Mix of Old and New: Don't be afraid to mix antique pieces with contemporary artwork or modern photography. This juxtaposition creates a dynamic and personalized space. Substyles of Contemporary Classic: - Mid-Century Modern: Think clean lines, pops of color, and iconic furniture pieces like Eames chairs or Noguchi coffee tables. - Scandinavian Modern: Embrace natural materials, light woods, and cozy textures for a warm and inviting take on contemporary classic. - Art Deco: Channel the glamour of the roaring twenties with geometric patterns, metallic accents, and bold statement pieces. Designing Your Contemporary Classic Space: - Start with a neutral base: Establish a foundation of neutral colors on your walls and floors to create a sense of calm and spaciousness. - Choose furniture with clean lines and timeless silhouettes: Invest in quality pieces that will last for years to come. - Layer textures and patterns: Add visual interest with throws, pillows, and rugs in a variety of textures and patterns. - Don't be afraid to mix metals: Combining different metal finishes, like gold and silver, can add depth and personality to your space. - Incorporate personal touches: Add artwork, photographs, or other meaningful objects that reflect your personality and interests. Remember: Contemporary classic is all about balance. Don't be afraid to experiment and find what works for you. The key is to create a space that feels both beautiful and comfortable, a reflection of your own unique style. Additional Tips: - Focus on quality over quantity: Invest in fewer, but better-made pieces that will stand the test of time. - Embrace natural light: Let natural light flood your space whenever possible. It will brighten your interiors and create a sense of airiness. - Accessorize thoughtfully: Don't overclutter your surfaces. Choose a few statement pieces that complement your overall design. - Don't be afraid to break the rules: Contemporary classic is a flexible style. There are no hard and fast rules, so have fun and experiment! By embracing the principles of contemporary classic interior design, you can create a home that is both stylish and timeless, a space that reflects your personal taste and offers a haven of comfort and beauty.

Shabby Chic Charm: Creating a Home Steeped in Nostalgia and Romance

Shabby chic, a design style that blends vintage charm with a touch of elegance, has captured hearts for its ability to infuse spaces with a sense of cozy nostalgia and romantic tranquility. Imagine peeling paint revealing hints of a bygone era, furniture whispering tales of generations past, and soft hues setting the stage for a relaxed and inviting atmosphere. That's the essence of shabby chic, a style that celebrates imperfection and embraces the beauty of timeworn treasures. Key Elements of Shabby Chic: - Distressed Furniture and Furnishings: The heart of shabby chic lies in furniture and furnishings that bear the marks of time. Think chipped paint, worn edges, and faded fabrics. These imperfections tell stories and add character to your space. - Soft Color Palette: A calming palette of whites, creams, and pastels dominates the shabby chic scene. These light and airy colors create a sense of spaciousness and serenity, allowing the distressed details to truly shine. - Floral Prints and Romantic Touches: Shabby chic loves florals! Whether it's on wallpaper, upholstery, or throw pillows, floral patterns add a touch of sweetness and femininity to the space. Lace, ruffles, and other romantic elements further enhance the charm. - Vintage Accents and Collectibles: Shabby chic thrives on the old and the loved. Antique finds, flea market treasures, and family heirlooms add a layer of personal history and unique character to your space. Don't be afraid to display them with pride! - Natural Light and Texture: Shabby chic spaces bask in the glow of natural light. Large windows and sheer curtains invite the sunlight in, while natural textures like wood, wicker, and linen add warmth and depth. Bringing Shabby Chic Home: Ready to infuse your own space with shabby chic charm? Here are some tips: - Start small: Don't try to overhaul your entire home at once. Begin by incorporating a few key elements, like a distressed dresser or a vintage floral rug. - Shop vintage and DIY: Flea markets, antique stores, and even your grandma's attic can be treasure troves for shabby chic finds. Don't be afraid to upcycle or refinish pieces to add your own personal touch. - Layer and mix textures: Shabby chic thrives on layers and textures. Combine soft linens with distressed wood, lace with velvet, and florals with stripes. The key is to create a sense of visual interest without feeling cluttered. - Let the light in: Maximize natural light to create a bright and airy atmosphere. Sheer curtains and light-colored walls will keep the space feeling open and inviting. - Most importantly, have fun! Shabby chic is all about creating a space that reflects your personality and makes you feel good. Don't be afraid to experiment and express yourself through your decor. Remember, shabby chic isn't about perfection; it's about celebrating the beauty of imperfection. So embrace the worn edges, the faded colors, and the quirky finds that tell a story. With a little creativity and a touch of nostalgia, you can create a home that feels both charming and comfortable, a haven where time seems to slow down and everyday moments feel imbued with a touch of magic. Beyond the Basics: While the core principles of shabby chic remain constant, there are endless ways to personalize the style. Here are a few substyles to consider: - French Country Shabby Chic: Think toile fabrics, lavender hues, and vintage French finds for a touch of rustic elegance. - Coastal Shabby Chic: Bring the beach vibes home with weathered wood, pastel blues and greens, and nautical accents. - Industrial Shabby Chic: Add an edgy touch with distressed metals, exposed brick walls, and salvaged industrial pieces. No matter your taste, there's a shabby chic variation that's sure to speak to your soul. So open your doors to the past, embrace the beauty of imperfection, and let the shabby chic charm work its magic on your home.

Embracing the Shadows: A Guide to Gothic Interior Design

Gothic Interior Design Step into a world of dramatic contrasts, rich textures, and haunting beauty. Gothic interior design isn't for the faint of heart; it's a bold statement, a symphony of darkness and light that evokes mystery and grandeur. Dark Majesty: Foundations of Gothic Design Gothic design draws inspiration from medieval architecture and the Romantic era, weaving together elements of drama, theatricality, and a touch of the macabre. Imagine soaring ceilings punctuated by pointed arches, ornately carved furniture casting long shadows in flickering candlelight, and rich tapestries whispering tales of knights and forgotten empires. Key Elements of Gothic Interior Design: - Rich Color Palettes: Deep, jewel tones like emerald green, burgundy, and sapphire set the stage for a dramatic atmosphere. Accents of silver, gold, and bronze add a touch of luxury. - Dramatic Architectural Details: High ceilings with exposed beams, pointed arches, and stained glass windows create a sense of grandeur and mystery. Gargoyles or other sculptural elements can add a touch of the macabre. - Heavy Furniture and Fabrics: Gothic furniture features bold silhouettes and intricate carvings. Think four-poster beds, velvet armchairs, and chests decorated with ironwork. Fabrics are typically opulent, with damask, velvet, and brocade lending a sense of luxury and texture. - Moody Lighting: Candlelight and strategically placed lamps create a sense of intimacy and mystery. Chandeliers and sconces with wrought iron or crystal accents add a touch of drama. - Antiques and Curiosities: Gothic spaces love a touch of the past. Display antique weapons, vintage books, or intriguing artwork to tell a story and add a sense of timelessness. Substyles of Gothic Design: - Medieval Gothic: Think heavy oak furniture, tapestries, and stained glass windows depicting religious scenes. This style captures the essence of medieval castles and cathedrals. - Victorian Gothic: A more ornate and romantic take on Gothic, featuring dark wood furniture with intricate carvings, floral patterns, and velvet upholstery. - Modern Gothic: This contemporary interpretation incorporates sleek lines and modern materials with traditional Gothic elements like dark colors, dramatic lighting, and statement pieces. Creating Your Own Gothic Haven: Bringing a touch of Gothic charm to your home doesn't require a complete overhaul. Start small by incorporating key elements: - Paint an accent wall in a deep, dramatic color. - Add a statement piece like a four-poster bed or a velvet armchair. - Display vintage photos or artwork with a Gothic theme. - Hang tapestries or heavy curtains to create a sense of drama. - Invest in candles and strategically placed lamps for moody lighting. Remember, Gothic design is all about personal expression. Don't be afraid to mix and match styles and eras to create a space that reflects your own unique personality and sense of style. Beyond the Basics: - Play with texture: Combine smooth velvet with rough stone, or wood with metal, to create visual interest. - Don't shy away from the macabre: A touch of skulls, gargoyles, or other haunting elements can add an intriguing touch. - Balance the darkness with light: While Gothic design embraces darkness, it's important to have areas of light for balance. Natural light through stained glass windows can be particularly beautiful. - Most importantly, have fun! Gothic design is about creating a space that feels unique and inspiring to you. Embrace the mystery and drama, and let your imagination run wild. Gothic interior design is a journey into the realm of the extraordinary, a celebration of darkness and beauty in equal measure. So, open the door to your inner goth, embrace the shadows, and create a space that is both captivating and unforgettable.

Art Nouveau: Nature's Symphony in Design

Art Nouveau: Nature's Symphony in Design Step into a realm where nature's curves intertwine with elegant forms, where light dances across shimmering surfaces, and every detail whispers a story of artistry. This is the world of Art Nouveau, a design movement that swept across Europe and America in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, leaving behind a legacy of breathtaking beauty and enduring style. Blooming from the Ashes of Tradition: Born in a time of artistic and industrial upheaval, Art Nouveau rejected the rigid formality of Victorian design and embraced the organic flow of nature. It was a rebellion against the machine, a celebration of hand-crafted artistry, and a symphony of sinuous lines, floral motifs, and vibrant colors. Key Elements of Art Nouveau Design: - Organic Lines and Forms: Gone are the straight lines and sharp corners. Art Nouveau embraces the sinuous curves of flowers, vines, and waves, weaving them into furniture, architecture, and decorative elements. - The Language of Nature: Floral motifs reign supreme, blooming across walls, furniture, and even light fixtures. Dragonflies, butterflies, and other creatures from the natural world add a touch of whimsy and movement. - Rich Materials and Textures: Glass, stained and vibrant, takes center stage, capturing and refracting light in a kaleidoscope of colors. Natural materials like wood, stone, and wrought iron add warmth and depth to the spaces. - Whimsical Touches and Artistic Expression: Art Nouveau is a canvas for imagination. Decorative elements like stained glass windows, mosaics, and sculptures become integral parts of the design, telling stories and adding unique character. - A Unified Symphony: From architecture to furniture to the smallest detail, Art Nouveau strives for a sense of cohesion. Every element flows together, creating a harmonious and immersive experience. Substyles of Art Nouveau: - French Art Nouveau: Characterized by its elegance and floral motifs, often seen in the works of Emile Gallé and Eugène Grasset. - Belgian Art Nouveau: More flamboyant and geometric, as exemplified by the bold architectural creations of Victor Horta. - British Art Nouveau: Known for its emphasis on craftsmanship and natural materials, seen in the designs of Charles Rennie Mackintosh. Bringing Art Nouveau Home: While Art Nouveau's heyday may have passed, its captivating spirit can still be incorporated into modern homes. Here are some ways to add a touch of its magic: - Embrace floral patterns: Wallpaper, upholstery, or even throw pillows can bring a touch of nature's vibrancy to your space. - Let the light flow: Stained glass panels or window hangings can add color and create a mesmerizing interplay of light and shadow. - Choose furniture with curves: Look for pieces with flowing lines and organic shapes to capture the essence of the movement. - Incorporate art and decorative elements: Sculptures, mosaics, or even vintage Art Nouveau posters can add a touch of artistic flair. - Don't be afraid to mix and match: Art Nouveau thrives on individuality. Combine elements from different substyles or eras to create a space that reflects your unique personality. Beyond the Basics: - Play with colors: Jewel tones like emerald green, sapphire blue, and deep burgundy create a dramatic yet elegant backdrop. - Incorporate natural materials: Wood, stone, and metal add warmth and texture to the space, grounding the artistic elements. - Don't forget the details: Light fixtures, door handles, and even cabinet knobs can be chosen to echo the organic forms and floral motifs of the style. - Most importantly, have fun! Art Nouveau is about celebrating life, nature, and artistic expression. Let your creativity flow and embrace the joy of creating a space that feels both beautiful and personal. Art Nouveau's legacy goes beyond aesthetics. It reminds us of the beauty and inspiration found in nature, the power of artistic expression, and the importance of creating spaces that nourish our souls. So, open your doors to the symphony of nature, let your imagination take flight, and experience the enduring magic of Art Nouveau in your own home.

Step into the Future: A Guide to High-Tech Interior Design

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