#i kept a thick bookmark in it too

[creatediana]

Monologue of the character Helena to Hermia, from William Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream, a fantasy romantic comedy written in the 1590s, one of the earlier plays of his career and one of only a few with no prior literary or historical source for the plot

Expressions of same-sex affection can be found throughout Shakespeare’s sonnets and plays, including The Merchant of Venice, As You Like It, Twelfth Night, Coriolanus, and Two Noble Kinsmen. However, the Renaissance did not have the modern concepts of sexual identity and sexual orientation that we have inherited from 19th- and early 20th-century theories of human sexuality and psychology. Hence nobody in this period would have conceived of themselves in terms of modern sexual categories such as heterosexual and homosexual, or gay and straight. The challenge in reading passages such as this is to understand the personal, social, and political significance of same-sex relationships in Renaissance culture without applying anachronistic labels or standards of judgment. In Renaissance England, intimate relationships between women were generally accepted as long as they did not interfere with the women’s conventional sexual and social duties: getting married, having children, maintaining chastity, and behaving in an appropriately feminine manner. In A Midsummer Night’s Dream and As You Like It, adolescent female friendships finally give way to the new bonds between husbands and wives that signal entry into adulthood. However, being married did not prevent adult women from maintaining or establishing affectionate intimacies with other women through relationships of friendship, patronage, or service.

—Annotation in Barnes and Noble Shakespeare’s edition of the play (the first edition I read when I was seventeen), edited by Mario DiGangi

[notquitecanon]

Search History // Poly!141 x Reader

A continuation of this thought

Summary: Reader (based loosely on Penelope Garcia from Criminal Minds) has to be face-to-face with the boys for the first time since they started including her in their late-night fantasies. They've decided it's time to take it off-screen and move in IRL.

I'm taggin the peeps who replied to the last part bc I'm desperate for attention lol (in all actuality y'all really encouraged me to actually write thank you!!)

CW: allusions to porn, allusions to female genitalia, they're all horny in the workplace, this is basically workplace harassment but we're excusing it because they're hot and fictional and I say so, no outright smut

Still nsfw though so MDNI pls and thanks

“The 141 just touched down. ETA twenty minutes.” 

Your eyes flicked up from the muted video on your monitor, cheeks flushed red but masked by the light radiating off your screen in your dark office. Thank God, your monitor faced away from the door. A young private was standing in the doorway with a tablet, looking at you for an acknowledgment, probably running about starting preparations for their arrival back on home base. 

“Thank you, private.” You murmured, teeth toying at your thumbnail, chipping the polish. The young soldier gave a short nod at the quiet dismissal and disappeared once again. Your eyes, with embarrassingly blown pupils, flicked back to the video. 

After your discovery two weeks ago, the sites and links you had to review furthered down the rabbit hole. And this video you were currently watching had been one that all the men had been visiting, and revisiting, and revisiting… 

By god, they’d done it. 

Similar build, skin tone only a shade or two different - you could probably share foundation and it wouldn’t look too bad. Hair and eye color so close it was uncanny. And when the woman looked over her shoulder at the mountain of a man hitting it from the back, the angle made the resemblance almost scarily uncanny.  The Had you had a porn career and simply forgotten?- kind of uncanny. 

Sure there were differences- she was a little taller, maybe a bit leaner, with boobs that had definitely had some work done. Tattoos where your skin was bare and vice versa, different piercings. Her voice was pitched different, and her accent was completely different from yours but within three minutes of the video she’d stopped speaking words, so accent didn’t matter much.  But as far as porn actresses went- she might as well be your twin. 

It seemed the 141 had perused her entire.. filmography. Different videos, different scenarios, different partners. They all had videos they seemed to like better than others. Soap seemed to particularly like the POV video where the man had a thick Scottish accent. Gaz had bookmarked a soft-core bondage and forced orgasm scene. Price, a shorter video of an unseen man pushing the actress under a desk for oral, and Ghost… the only link he’d visited was your instagram. It was hard not to let it stroke your ego a little bit. 

God, if you told anyone about this… They’d tell you to file a workplace harassment suit, and maybe a police report.  To start job hunting, and therapist hunting. Distance yourself. You should have been embarrassed or uncomfortable- you knew you should be. That you should feel objectified or disrespected, disgusted. 

But hell, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t send yourself the links and watched them in your free time at home. It was hot- turned you on in an almost concerning way that would set feminism back twenty years if you told anyone. 

The video kept playing on your monitor, one of the videos that Soap had visited more than once (little did you know it was one that Ghost had picked out). A gloved hand smoothly glided down the actress's spine before curving around her throat and pulling her upright on the man’s lap, filthy praises in a British accent playing through your single AirPod. 

“Holy shit…”  You muttered, thighs clenching because if you squinted it really did look like you, even some of her mannerisms. And the rough accent was like a mix of Ghost's and Price’s. 

Abruptly, you shut down the entire monitor completely, ripping out the AirPod and tossing it on the desk. Pressing slightly shaking hands to your too hot face. You needed to get it together, because Price was your boss and the others were your superiors. They’d been gone for a month and a half, and it’d been your voice in their ears guiding them through missions, and you knew you had a flirty disposition, especially from the private safety of your dark little office half way across the world. 

It made sense that their wires got a little crossed, but your wires- like those off all your monitors and hardware- needed to stay neatly organized and separate. Focus. Focus. 

Your nails were bitten to the quick, the bitter taste of old nail polish on the back of your tongue. The skin around your nails was raw from your teeth toying with it as your so intensely focussed on the videos. You needed to get out of this too small, too hot room.  Which is how you found yourself, twenty minutes later, in the communal break room fighting with the vending machine. It was withholding the ice cold water you were desperate for, despite your curses and attempts to jostle the machine. Right as you delivered a frustrated kick to the machine-

“Just the bird we were looking for!” 

It was Kyle’s voice first, that tipped you off to the herd of men entering the space. You almost jumped out of your skin- brain flitting through several scandalous snippets of the videos he’d replayed. His smile was dazzling as always as he came into view, tapping the yellow warning stickers that instructed people not to jostle the machine, with the little illustration of the stick man getting crushed, “What’d the machine ever do to you? It might start fighting back.” 

A gloved hand reached between the two of you, skeleton fingers curled into a fist that delivered a blunt strike, and, like magic, the water bottle fell in to the receptacle. You peeked over your shoulder at Ghost, standing just slightly too close and looking down at you intensely, but not meanly. An easy to miss bit of mirth that was usually reserved for Soap. Thank god you’d bitten your nails to stubs or they would’ve drawn blood from how they were digging into your palms to distract you from the gloved hands and the brutish display of strength. 

Kyle put the drink sweetly in your hands after cracking it for you, like he would do when bringing Ghost or Price something, eyes twinkling like he knew something you didn’t.  Another hand, warm and large clapped gently on your shoulder, pulling you back a step, almost directly into Captain Price’s chest. 

The men shared a look over your head before focussing back on you. 

“Your intel was good.” It was a simple statement, but delivered in a warm, proud tone that felt so much like praise that your stomach flipped a bit, with that warm smile that made him look soft despite the fact he was still in full tac-gear, “They didn’t even see us coming.” 

“They never see you coming, that’s kind of your whole thing.” You tried a joke, your voice a touch strained. His hand was lingering, right on the curve where your shoulder became your neck, fingers flexing into the flesh just so. Just like it did on the boys when he thought others wouldn’t noticed. focus, focus, focus. 

Fortunately, or unfortunately, it was Soap that interrupted the kneading of Price’s fingers. 

“Don’t be so modest, bonnie!” He was laughing as large arms caught you around the waist, lifting and spinning you slightly. His voice so similar to that one Scottish co-star that had done such filthy things to your lookalike, it made your head spin.  Despite your startled yelp and squirming, his grip didn’t waver, “Couldn’t of done it without our lass in the chair.” 

“ ’nough, Johnny,” Ghost called firmly, leaning against the vending machine that they’d all but cornered you against, “Put ‘er down.” 

Soap’s laugh was still good natured as he set you on your feet again, a little roughly for the heels you had on to match your skirt, you wobbled only for Ghost himself to steady you, giving you another intense look, that you had trouble meeting, “ 'e’s right though. Intel was good.” 

They were all staring at you, varying degrees of smirks, eyes a spectrum of mischief and something that was dizzyingly close to hunger.  Unable to keep still, you were squirming, shifting your weigh from foot to foot, fiddling with the wrapper on the bottle. You found your eyes flitting around settling anywhere but their own gaze, cheeks feeling hot, mind full of vile images that you knew they’d seen and enjoyed- ceiling, the exit sign, Johnny’s tac-vest, the floor, the water bottle in your hands. You gulped, eyebrows raising as you puffed a breath, trying desperately to reign yourself in.

“Glad to be of service.” You smiled tightly, nodding meeting each set of eyes briefly and hoping your foundation masked your blush (it didn’t). Jesus Christ, you couldn’t do this.  You couldn’t tell if you felt turned on or awkward or both, but you needed to go. Preferably before you did something that would cost you your job. Your voice was rushed as you squeezed between Gaz and Price, double timing it to the exit, “Enjoy your leave, boys, you deserve it.” 

As you all but fled the building, you typed out a mass base-wide memo email, language formal as you professionally reminded every soldier, specifically four of them, that any website visited by government devices was subject to internal review. 

You swore you could hear them laughing as the memo went out. But maybe that was just your overactive imagination. 

____

You’d gone home for the evening, and then clocked back in the following morning. Surprised to find all of the 141 was still there, debriefing must have ran long. 

“Morning, love.” It was Kyle that greeted you, pressing a cup of coffee into your hands. He looked tired but happy to see you. Soap was with him, eyes bright and grin wide as he whistled lowly, fingers tugging at the hem of your skirt as you passed his seat. 

“Looking good, bonnie,” He smiled devilishly, rubbing the fabric between his fingers before letting go, “Tired of all the green, black, and beige tac gear. Missed seeing something a little… softer.”  

You somewhat doubted that. He seemed to appreciate military khaki when it hugged Gaz’s ass, and he sure didn’t seem to mind an all black tactical ensemble when it was on Ghost. But the compliment still brought heat up your neck, which you coupled with a sip of the hot coffee Gaz had brought you- fixed perfectly the way you liked it. It elicited a pleased sigh as you swallowed, humming in content. 

“Price wants to see you before we all leave. Brought you some new stuff to work on.” Kyle smiled, watching how your expression softened at the taste of the beverage, clearly proud of himself for drawing out that reaction.   

“A present? For me?” You smiled sarcastically back at the prospect of more work added to you caseload, “It’s like Christmas.” 

“You been good this year?” Kyle grinned back, accompanied by Soap chiming, voice low and chiding, “Nah, she’s definitely been naughty.” 

Both Sergeant’s shared a look as you almost choked on another sip of coffee. 

“I’m leaving now.” You shook your head, turning on your heel away from where they were hanging around the rec room, clearly waiting for Price to dismiss them, “Y’all should shower. Or take a nap.” 

“You want us naked?” Kyle questioned, raising his eyebrows at you, leaning back against the wall, standing so very close to Soap, who was sprawled out in his chair, long legs splayed and spread before him as he waggled his eyebrows. “And in bed?” 

Now that was some imagery. Taking the lord’s name in vain you didn’t dignify that with a response other than a huffed, “Leaving now.” 

____

The good thing about Price and Ghost was they were business first. So if you really focussed you could almost ignore Ghost's thigh pressed against yours as you sat beside him in the dark room, reviewing body cam footage. They pointed out different things to you, things to include as you started your next dark web deep dive. 

You could almost ignore how Price’s fingers grazed and lingered on your palm as he gave you a thumb drive to decrypt and analyze, how he stood close enough to you that you had to look at him through your lashes. 

“Has a self destruct program that Gaz didn’t want t' aggravate. Figured it needed your... soft touch.” Price smiled down at you as you curled your fingers around the thumb drive. You had to try pretty hard to ignore the slight emphasis on soft. Ghost seemed to chuckle lowly at your expression at the captain. 

“What’s on there'll point us in the next direction of our next target.” Ghost nodded to you, his leg shifting so it pressed harder against yours. In the guise of stretching out, he’d draped an arm over the back of your chair, the cotton of his gloves half tickling the sensitive skin on the back of your bicep, where the flesh was soft. 

“So don’t screw it up, got it.” You swallowed thickly, shifting so you couldn’t feel his thumb against your skin- it was making it hard to think about hacking and terrorism and military operations.  He took it as an invitation to spread out more, his fingers grazing the exact spot only seconds later. 

“Precisely,” John laughed lowly, his hand moved to your shoulder, back into that sweet curve that was partly your shoulder and partly your neck, and gave it a lingering squeeze, that kind of made you want to melt, “You won’t screw it up, love.” 

The captain gave his Lieutenant a nod, and Ghost quickly stood, his boot giving the toe of your pretty heels a slight nudge as a goodbye before silently stalking out. Price took a seat across from you, leaning back and his arms cross comfortably over his chest.

“I’m having the boys over at mine tonight. A couple of drinks, I’m gonna grill, put the footie on, celebrate another successful mission to start our leave.” Price listed out their plans casually, noting how you squirmed a bit, uncrossing and recrossing your legs as you tugged at the hem of your skirt before continuing, “We want you to come. Couldn’t have done it without you, so you should celebrate it too.” 

“Oh, uh-“ You started before you could think of a good excuse, “I’ll be really busy… with.. with the flash drive. And stuff.” 

“What stuff?” Price rose a single brow, his stare pinning you still as he reached across the table and took the flash drive back, “This can wait.” 

“Files. Coding. Security checks.” You mumbled the first couple aspects of your job that came to mind, the intensity of his gaze making you want to adjust your collar or shrink in your seat. You figured you’d have a couple more sites to clear off their devices, if they’d been sitting around base all night. Your cheeks heated just at the thought. “I’m a little behind. Been… distracted lately."

“Everything all right, love?” He ‘asked’ with at signature warm smile and amused eyes, he seemed to already know the answer to his question, “You’ve been… skittish, since we got back.” 

Your teeth worried the seam of your lips as you considered the question. Skittish, was one way to put it- fidgety, fleeing rooms, avoiding eye contact, barely speaking as opposed to your usual chatter and banter. Your eyes flitted away from his gaze again, swallowing dryly again- geez when did you get so shy, “ ‘m fine. Absolutely fine. Never been better. How’re you?” 

Cringing at your own rambling, you sighed shoulders drooping as he fixed you with another look, and muttered your name in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. It was a look that expected obedience, as his legs shifted into a natural man spread. Your brain flitted back to the video of your look alike being shoved under a desk… 

Him saying your name again, slightly louder but just as bemused drew you back to him, realizing you were staring at his legs, debating if you could fit between his knees and you almost sputtered as you cleared your throat, “I’m fine, really.” 

“Either lie more convincingly or tell me what’s bothering you, sweet.”  Price chuckled, leaving forward against the table, drumming a knuckle against the table. Sweet, that was new. You’d have to add it to the laundry list of nicknames and pet names the boys had for you. You’d always told yourself that it was nothing personal, that British/Scottish people just did that. But this on wasn’t as easy to write off as ‘love’ or ‘bonnie’, average pet names in the UK colloquial, no sweet seemed personal. 

“I’m not bothered.” You glanced away again, nose wrinkling, even though you were bothered- hot and bothered. John Price had a way of drawing details out of people with just a look and a couple of well prodded words.  With a deep breath, you tried to keep your characteristic rambling to a minimum, a losing battle as he starting stroking at his beard with those long fingers- two parts of him that you’d been thinking about way too much lately-, “Listen, I’m not judging, you’re grown men, watch what you want to, but just a reminder that it’s my job and obligation to review every link and site that government devices visit. Which includes at least skimming videos.  In case you didn’t know or maybe forgot that I can and do see these things, so maybe you could pass that along to the boys-“ 

“You can tell 'em yourself. ’s your job, sweet.” Price said firmly. The girlish part of your brain corrected ‘firmly’ to dominantly. Before his demeanor relaxed again, giving you an amused, appraising look again, “At my place. Tonight. 8 o’clock. Not a request.” Shrinking in your chair a bit, hoping the chair hid the way your thighs involuntarily clenched, you couldn’t help but nod and squeak, “Yes, sir.” 

___

Part Two

Was supposed to have actually smut in this but I got carried away on the build-up, laugh out loud. Maybe a part three or you can just imagine how the little dinner party goes (hint, she's the meal)

Tags: @fruitymoonbeams-blog @viviennevianna @savas-q1 @cringeycookies @lainey-laines @buttercup337 @acosmisted @carqueensworld @tmartin0918 @dreamland08 @sheepdogchick @hidden-wildflowers @lilynotdilly @astrxsee @joopyjup @originalsoulcollector @henhouse-horrors @ohdrey89 @red5tars @cod-z @balletbiscuit @spacecrawllerr @scrumptioussportstoadgarden-blog @blues-of-neptune @monster-effer @yunho-leeknow @ungodlydilf @pluviofleur @jandthecrow @fangtoothgod @coquetterie-dancer @sapphires-and-silver-things @ghost-is-my-bbg @loveergirll @silly-starfish @popkle @honestlymassivetrash @not-mentally-sane @devoetee @beloveds-embrace @jellyamour @simon141price @divinecat

[yun-fangz]

Jongho twitter links — Dom Ver.

pairing: jongho x fem!reader

a/n: you guys already knew this was coming, i just can never get him out of my mind!! he needs to start paying rent atp. will be making a sub version for him; possibly for each member as well if this is well received, let me know your thoughts 😪 these are all also from my personal bookmarks too hehehe, i did my research

side note: i was going to make a post to see who wanted a tag,,,,,,,, im too impatient so im posting rn sorry!!! if you do want a tag for any of the other ones let me know :)

masterlist.

warnings + links under the cut!

warnings/tags: nsfw links (duh lol), pussy spanking, size difference/kink, fat cock jongho (i'm a very big advocate), bratty reader, rough!dom!jongho, fingering, piv penetration, possessiveness, breeding, brat taming, overstim, fingering, manhandling... uh yeah! jongho can match your freak ig

jongho having to spank you back into your place like this after acting out all day, your poor pussy and ass were aching but you couldn't stop leaking all over him.

jongho loves teasing you like this. rubbing you through your panties until it becomes unbearable, forcing you to to push him where you want him.

overstimulation was a normal thing for jongho, you had already come so hard but he kept on playing with your quivering pussy, spreading your juices and fucking it back into you hard. let's just say it didn't take long for you to come again. link.

jongho and his fat cock holding you open like and stretching you out like this. with your head lolled back onto his shoulder, you could hear every groan and moan come out of his mouth.

jongho using you as a cocksleeve, his arms around you as he quite literally lifts you onto his thick cock. link.

jongho restraining you by the arms as he ruts into you, his face buried deep into your neck as he chases his high. link

jongho loves teasing your entrance with his cockhead, smearing his precum all over your pretty little lips before eventually pushing in ever so slightly. this was the easiest way for him to make you drunk off his cock. link.

jongho fucking the brattiness out of you, his hands carded through your hair, pulling you back onto his cock. link.

you we're just so fucking impatient, jongho had no choice but to bend you over like this. if you were so bold to ask for his cock while he's playing with his friends, you can get fucked in front of them. link.

jongho holding your frame down with one hand while the other is fingering you ruthlessly. you had already come twice but he decides when you were done. link

jongho fucking you hard and fast like this, you already knew you weren't going to be able to walk the next morning.

a little on the softer side, jongho was just so in love with you, he took his time fucking you slowly and kissing all over your neck/chest. he'd whisper sweet nothings and praises into your ear as he makes love to you. link.

EXTRA:

these are some links that i think of jongho however i don't feel like writing/i already have something similar

link.

link.

link.

a/n: as always, went a lil overboard....... hehehe but it's jongho who cares lol. see you in the sub ver :)

[quoththemaiden]

@mrghostrat This is now the third time since December that I'm writing about your middle-aged men and their middle-aged-man problems (1, 2). Please come collect them, because they're causing a disturbance.

Or, if you aren't able to wrangle them, then please enjoy this scene inspired by Chapter 10 of Big Name Feelings.

For everyone who hasn't already seen the top portion of this on Discord, know that this is set sometime after the con but before the big bang.

—

"I think your hair might be getting long enough to braid now."

Crowley's eyes snapped over to him. "Braid?"

Aziraphale blinked at the sharp question. "I didn't mean anything by it." He'd still never figured out quite where Crowley's gender identity lay, or if it changed day-by-day. He suspected Crowley's public presentation of his gender was either "whatever's simplest for everyone involved" (around people he didn't know but generally liked, like at the con) or "whatever causes the most problems for everyone involved" (like with a particularly annoying security guard that had left Aziraphale remembering that being middle-aged, white, and extremely stuffy in appearance was its own form of armor). Aziraphale's own perception of Crowley's gender was just "Crowley." What Crowley felt about it was something Aziraphale had never quite managed to parse out. "You can do whatever you like—"

"Do you know how?"

"How...?"

"To braid hair." Crowley's tone was oddly urgent. "Like for your nieces or cousins or—"

"—for crafting, yes. Tassels for bookmarks and such. You want me to—" Crowley practically flinging himself down onto the sofa next to him was answer enough. "Oh."

Crowley's hair really was barely long enough to braid, Aziraphale decided as he gently freed it from its elastic band. He ran his fingers through it slowly and carefully, easing out the light tangles from a day's confinement. Crowley slumped forward in boneless contentment, and Aziraphale had to switch to prickling the top of his scalp with his fingernails to get him to sit up straight enough for Aziraphale to work.

Aziraphale determined his gameplan, then, and gently eased up a few locks of hair at the crown of Crowley's head, smoothing down the top with the flat of his palm. He started working the strands into a French braid, taking it tiny piece by tiny piece to ensure every section was balanced in size. If Crowley were doing it himself, he suspected he'd get it done in just five messy joins, but every strand he brought in gave Aziraphale another excuse to run his fingertips along Crowley's scalp and he luxuriated in each opportunity. "Has anyone ever told you your hair is unreasonably thick?" he murmured, his voice huskier with fond affection than he'd intended. Crowley spared him from a tease by being too utterly sedated to manage more than a vague hum in response. Aziraphale smiled at that and kept his progress blissfully slow and methodical until he had no choice but to tie the braid off at the nape of Crowley's neck — half a French braid, half a ponytail made bushy from having had waves worked into it. He placed a soft kiss to the back of Crowley's head, padded by the thickest part of Crowley's braid and somehow all the more intimate for it. "All done, love."

Crowley leaned back against Aziraphale's chest, tilting back his head to look up at him with eyes made impossibly soft with contentment. "I'm never putting my own hair up again. Just hope you know that."

Aziraphale chuckled softly, just as fond. "I'll manage somehow, I suppose."

—

Crowley's boneless appreciation of the hair braiding had turned into boneless napping, and while Aziraphale enjoyed having Crowley fall asleep against him at certain times of day, he had never been one for naps himself and there was a limit to how long he could stay motionless sans entertainment before even he got antsy. He eased his way out from under Crowley, grateful the other man was a heavy sleeper even during the day, and was left deciding what quiet amusement he could pursue until whenever Crowley woke up and started making noises about dinner. He could always read some fanfics, of course, but his eyes couldn't help but be drawn towards his favorite muse.

His muse who had, he recalled, tempted him into joining a rigged bang and had talked him into getting a digital tablet. Aziraphale still planned to do his official art for it traditionally, because he was sure Crowley's writing would deserve no less... and, if he was allowed to be vain in the privacy of his own mind, because he still remembered the feeling he'd had when Crowley responded to his scans with barely coherent keysmashing. He wasn't in deferential awe of Crowley anymore, although he still loved his writing just as much, but part of him still hoped that Crowley might respond with just as much enthusiasm at getting to see the finished piece in person, textured paper and unprocessed colors and all. Well, assuming he could be gutsy enough to actually give it to him in person instead of just leaving it on the drafting table for him to find, which was really the more statistically likely result. But anyway.

But anyway.

His muse was sleeping in front of him, and a stylus on an iPad would make hardly any noise at all. And if he got good enough at using it, maybe he could draw some extra digital art to celebrate the fic as well.

In any case, sketching Crowley while he slept was one of life's little joys. He didn't think Crowley knew how often he did it, and that was probably for the best. If he did it all in his notebook, it would have been too easy for Crowley to flip through and find the sketches (and removing sheets would have felt damnably like a guilty conscience). With his iPad, however, he was safe to sketch as much as he liked and there was no real way for Crowley to stumble across it. Aziraphale willfully shoved aside the thought that that didn't really sound any less guilty and started setting stylus to screen. It wasn't long until he'd settled into a comfortable rhythm, his eyes flicking back and forth between the screen and where Crowley was lying face-down on the sofa, his new braid highlighted in a beam of afternoon sunlight.

Something Aziraphale did appreciate about digital art was that white could be layered on top of other colors and be shockingly vibrant, which wasn't an effect he could get easily with his beloved watercolors. Something else watercolors didn't give him was the ability to pick out very fine details, and as his sketch started coming together, he found that was exactly what he wanted to do now. While Crowley's hair was a vibrant red in his selfies or on stage, when he'd had the opportunity to run his fingers through every strand, he'd found that Crowley's hair was showing his age just as much as his own was.

The first day Aziraphale had found a grey hair had come as a shock. He'd naively assumed that with his hair being as pale as it was, even if it started greying, he might well never know. Instead, he found that the grey hairs' texture was frustratingly different from the strands that were still blond, and until they reached a critical mass fifteen long years later, they had an unfortunate tendency to stick out unattractively if his cut was anything less than perfect. He had become quite a regular at his barber's.

With Crowley's hair being as long as it was, his grey hairs had worked smoothly into his braid. From even the small distance from couch to armchair, they melded into the red strands perfectly... but Aziraphale had just spent long minutes twining them into neat twists and didn't need to see them now to know they were there. Aziraphale zoomed in close (another marked benefit of the digital display) and set his pen to a thin, sharp line, layering sleek silver strands into the red braid he'd drawn. Following the way they weaved around each other and dipped in and out of view felt delightfully meditative.

Eventually, Crowley made a soft snuffling snort-groan as he roused from his nap, slowly turning to unbury his face from the pillows. "Wha' time'zit?" he mumbled, patting around blindly for his cellphone.

"Coming up on 5:30 now," Aziraphale replied softly, trying not to startle him into full wakefulness too quickly. He rose and fetched Crowley's phone, placing it gently into his fumbling hand. "There you go."

"Mmrrr. Don't need it now." Crowley tucked the phone under his side in what Aziraphale would have guessed would be a very uncomfortable fashion but which Crowley did without even thinking. At least it wouldn't be going anywhere from there, Aziraphale supposed. "What're you doin'?" Crowley made grabby hands at the iPad Aziraphale had brought over with him.

Aziraphale handed over the iPad without even one thought, much less a second. "Oh, I was just waiting for you to wake up, really."

"...Angel." Crowley had zoomed out on the picture (with a completely unsurprising lack of propriety) and was now staring, frozen and much more awake, at the drawing of himself. "You aren't going to post this on Tumblr, are you?"

Aziraphale laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of that, despite the ripple of shock Crowley's tense tone had caused him. "Come, now. When have I ever posted a drawing of you, my dear?"

"When have you ever made a drawing of me?" Crowley retorted. He waved vaguely at the screen, accidentally sparing Aziraphale from having to answer. "I don't mind being old, but I don't want the world knowing my boyfriend thinks I'm old." His frazzled waving turned a little more flaily.

"Crowley..." Aziraphale gently took the tablet back from him and set it down on the floor so he could take Crowley's hand in both of his. "I assure you, I'm not the kind of artist who spends my time drawing things I don't think are beautiful. And that includes every detail I put in."

Aziraphale would have hoped that was obvious, really. The strands of hair he had drawn weren't brittle grey; they were molten silver. They caught the light like a precious metal woven like a ribbon into cinnabar-red hair. Crowley could have been a queen, fallen asleep after a long day in her finery. He could have been a fae whose very essence was beauty, sleeping with no fear that it would be stolen away because it couldn't.

He could have been an ordinary man, who was so deeply, truly loved that even his grey hairs seemed to shine like the soft gleam of a newly-forged star when they caught the last strong beams of afternoon sunlight shining in through the windows.

Aziraphale hoped Crowley could see it, too.

Crowley made a grumpy noise. "I still don't want it on Tumblr. — Not that I can tell you what to do with your art, but—"

Aziraphale interrupted him with a warm smile. "I don't want it on Tumblr, either. I drew this just for me."

"...really? Even though...?"

"Just for me," Aziraphale whispered in confirmation, his eyes seeking out Crowley's and saving him from having to finish that sentence. "I've only ever drawn you for me." I love you to the point of creation, his heart sang. It wasn't quite how that quote went, he knew. It was the only way it had ever gone, for him.

"Hn..." Crowley shifted to look at the iPad where it lay down on the floor. "I suppose... Well. Despite the subject matter, you drew it well, at least."

"Well, thank you for that," Aziraphale jibed back lightly, completely devoid of malice.

"Ngh, you can't blame me for feeling self-conscious about my greys when you haven't got any."

Aziraphale let out a huff of a laugh. "Oh, Crowley."

"What?" Crowley looked defensive, then abruptly switched to looking shrewd. "Wait. Do you dye them??" He leaned forward eagerly, like this was taboo knowledge.

"Oh, where was that compliment two decades ago? No, not at all. Do you know how long I spent getting over feeling self-conscious about them, and now for you to not even realize I have them?"

"No way. You've been holding out on me!" Crowley's eyes had a light in them that Aziraphale had seen sometimes — the look of someone who has been wanting something very much and thinks he's just figured out how to get it. Aziraphale drew back instinctively in trepidation. He had no idea what Crowley could possibly be wanting, though a fluttering feeling in his chest suggested that it was, in some way, him.

Ridiculous. As if they hadn't had sex already.

"I'm going to go get dinner started."

Crowley let out a whine that cut off abruptly enough that Aziraphale suspected he actually hadn't intended to make it.

Aziraphale paused. "What?"

"Ehhh... just envious, s'all."

Aziraphale took a moment to muse about whether Crowley knew the difference between "envious" and "jealous" and decided, firmly, that he had faith that he did. "Of what?" he asked with an incredulous laugh, since he still had no idea what "envious" could possibly apply to here.

"Negghhh, you've gotten to play with my hair enough to know I have greys, and I haven't gotten to touch yours once."

Aziraphale blushed darkly at that, remembering some choice occasions in which Crowley had gripped his hair tightly enough to hurt. He cleared his throat and opted not to mention them. "That feels much more like your fault than mine."

"Just... tryin'a respect your boundaries, angel."

"Why would that be a boundary?" Aziraphale asked, baffled.

"I asked for it and you haven't."

Aziraphale didn't quite remember it that way, but it was a fair enough interpretation from Crowley's point of view, he supposed. "Well, no. It sounds perfectly nice, but I'd hate to bore you with it. I know you're much more fidgety than I am."

"Not bored," Crowley insisted, his eyes urgent. "Never bored when it's you, angel. Siddown."

Aziraphale laughed breathily. "Too late. I'm already up to cook dinner."

"Angel."

"You'll just have to wait," Aziraphale teased in a singsong lilt, casting a smile back at Crowley over his shoulder.

Crowley flung himself back on the couch with an impatient whine, leaving Aziraphale feeling very smug about his attempt at whatever the romantic equivalent of foreplay was. Crowley sounded very much like he was being left with blue balls. "Bastard."

"Only as much as you deserve, my dear," Aziraphale sang back as he went into the kitchen, acutely aware of Crowley's eyes following every step.

—

It wasn't really in question, at all, that Aziraphale would end the evening snuggled on the couch with Crowley's hands in his hair. There was also no question that he'd enjoy it thoroughly, and he also knew it wasn't the kind of thing that was likely to lead to anything more. So, instead, he just relaxed into it and let his thoughts drift.

"...do you really think I'd mind if my red fox turned into a silver fox?" he mused. The thought was languid, easy, relaxed. Crowley spluttered in incoherent surprise anyway, and Aziraphale laughed softly. "Yes, I know. There's a reason I'm not the writer of the pair."

"Y'are, though. Don't think I've forgotten that you are."

Aziraphale blushed a little at that. "Oh."

Crowley's hands resumed their meditative motion through Aziraphale's hair. "But... yeah. I'd rock it, wouldn't I?"

"You would," Aziraphale murmured with a smile. "And I'm quite looking forward to seeing it someday, my dear."

[bendycxmet]

Under Your Spell—Vash the Stampede

Summary: You are a top supporter of a trending camboy. What you don't know, is that that camboy is your friend and roommate, Vash.

Word Count: ~3.3k

Pairing: gn!reader x camboy!Vash the Stampede

Content: sexual content, nsfw, 18+ MDNI!, masturbation, edging, voyeurism, whiny vash, teasing reader

a/n: got the brainworms for camboy vash from @biancalattei and @awkwardchick87. my only solution was to put pen to paper.

|masterlist|

sharing an apartment with vash was a blessing. rent prices in the city drove you two to ultimately decide to room with each other. besides, you had known each other for years and decided that living with each other would be a breeze granted how well you two got along. 

you and vash had retired to your rooms for the night for quite some time now. its almost like routine. you claimed you wanted to rot in bed, watching your shows for a couple of hours before work the next day, leaving your spot beside him on the couch an hour before he resided to his room way down the hall for the night.

yes, the two of you were impossibly close, practically stuck at the hip now, but how could you ever tell him that you needed to go get off to your favorite camboy? that's a secret that will be carried to the grave. 

something about this camboy separated him easily from the rest. he had enough charm and personality that watching his streams never made you feel guilt or shame. the easygoing smile that graced his face like he actually enjoyed interacting with his fans, comments that would stream in faster than your eyes could catch, and his deep, rumbling laugh that almost acted as foreplay itself. it always felt like talking to a close friend. until he of course whipped it out. 

he was blessed with a gift, is all you could say. he was the perfect size all around, his cock long enough to only give pleasure without causing pain for your insides but thick enough that you can feel him fill you up. well, at least that's how you envisioned it in your fantasies. he was a pretty pink, the tapered tip a delightful rosy red. the wispy blond happy trail that led down to him was neatly kept. you imagined how it felt to touch him there before pleasuring him, feeling the soft, fine hairs between your fingers. 

his body was nothing but lean muscle, a full chest connected to hard, outlined abs, flexed arms and toned, thick thighs always clenching as he neared his climaxes. you never saw his face. or hands, hands that were covered with ruby leather gloves. for whatever reason that may be. you also were 100% certain that he wore some type of wig, a smart move you would say. maybe he had unique hair to match the rarity of the beautiful person he was. he also always sported a bunny mask that obscured his whole face, only leaving his lips for the audience’s viewing pleasure, which only fueled your fantasies more, his lips always pulled into a smirk or cute smile, sharp teeth on display, teeth meant to dig into your flesh- 

ok, you were getting sidetracked. you quickly tapped into your phone to play some music through your speaker, faking that you were occupied with something else that was not watching a man touch himself on camera for thousands to see. you plug your headphones into your computer and click on the hidden bookmark saved to immediately take you to his stream. 

please wait for the stream to begin.

read the loading screen. the chat was up and alive, discussing what he could possibly be doing for the night. you adjusted yourself on your bed, towel beneath you, toys to your left. you waited with bated breath, ready to hear his deep voice come through your headphones. 

“hello hello!  how are we all doing tonight? hope your week went well, my lovelies. but not too well. not without me, i hope.” you giggle, blushing slightly as you watch his sweatpant clad form come into frame, adjusting himself in his chair. you could never see anything past him, his room obscured in total darkness. you wish you could though, just to know what he was like. oh well, all that mattered was him. 

it was obvious that he had nothing on underneath his sweatpants, the hard outline of himself evident through the thin gray material. he was leaning casually back in his chair, leaning his head to the side onto his raised fist, chatting with his fans for a couple of minutes. it was obvious that everyone was getting antsy to see him pleasure himself. you shoot a quick comment into the void. 

his eyes light up instantly.

“hi bonbon721! good to see you’re here. as always.” he adds with a sly wink. you cover your face with your hands. he always says hello to you, but it never fails to fluster you. of course, you were one of his first fans, loyal and supportive even six months later. you had an eye for budding talent. more comments come in, greeting you. other fans also knew of you, mostly since you always commented witty remarks. your comment quickly begins to accrue upvotes. he laughs heartily.

“see what you started bonbon? ok, fine. let’s get started. can’t fault a guy for wanting to get to know you before taking you to dinner.” he quickly drags his pants down, his cock jumping out immediately to slap against his toned stomach. he draws in a quick inhale, the cold air hitting his sensitive length. 

always ready for us, huh big boy? 

his eyes catch onto your comment, a flush spreading throughout his body, a dribble of precum leaking from him. he averts his eyes for a split second, glad his mask obscures his embarrassed expression. although, nothing escapes your attention to detail. oh, had you pulled that reaction from him? the thought twists the coil in your stomach tighter, squeezing your legs together to quell the ache between them. 

he spreads his legs further on the chair, leather-clad fingers coming down to grasp himself. a shuddering sigh leaves him, head thrown back. 

“what would you like me to do today, chat?”

>obviously touch yourself.

>do u have a flshlght

>edge yourself until bonbon tells you to cum.

>ooo

>agree ^

>yesss

you choke on your spit, sending yourself into a coughing fit. what? huh?! had the chat been scheming before you clicked in for the night?

wait, why me???

>because you’re the top supporter silly. it’s the stream’s 6th month anniversary too. lets celebrate

>and besides, our boy here has you as his favorite~

before you can type your rejection of their logic, wanting everyone in the chat to receive the same love as you do, a dark chuckle interjects.

“well, we gotta give what the people want bonbon. what do you say? play around with me?” your fingers shake as they hover over the keyboard. you take a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself, before clicking the keys.

you better hold out until i say so then.

you are so thankful that there is a screen separating the two of you, coming off as a bold and confident fan rather than the flustered, meek supporter that you actually are. 

a shaky laugh rings out into your headphones, the abrupt tightening of leather on skin hinting that he enjoyed that comment. well, enjoyed being bossed around, you had gathered from all the streams you have joined in on.

now fuck your fist like you mean it.

his hand comes up to the tip, circling it in tight circles, gathering the precum dribbling from the slit to ease the glide of the leather glove against his shaft. he twists his hand on the upstroke, wrist bending back and forth as he stroked himself. his free hand flew out to grab onto the desk on a particularly good twist of his dick, teeth digging into his bottom lip, preventing his moans from slipping out. a withering whine slips out however, thrashing his head to the side as if he could escape the euphoria thrumming through him, licking up his spine. the dings of the chat bring him somewhat back to reality.

open your eyes, pretty. remember your promise. not until i say so.

stop biting your lip and let us hear you. and keep your eyes on me. 

you type out your demands, adding one hand back in your pants. you’re already halfway there, seeing as this camboy always gets you hot and bothered just with his appearance. the chat has gone silent out of respect of you commanding him, the only thing notifying him that he and bonbon aren’t alone is the reactions floating in quick succession at the top of the comments tab. the instant he lets go of his lip, a stuttering moan comes flying out his mouth.

“‘s so good bonbon. please, let me cum. ‘m almost there.” if you could see his face, you would be able to see the blush covering it. for now, all you can see is the flush covering his chest and ears. oh. you can tell he feels good. 

got a couple more things i need you to do. cup yourself.

he lets go of the desk to grab his balls, hissing in despair at the onslaught of pleasure that shoots through his body. he arches his back, strengthening the hold he has on himself down there, bating his release. he whines loudly, hand releasing himself to quickly cover his mouth with his arm.

what did i say?

“i know i know im sorry. i just have…neighbors… that i dont want to disturb.” his eyes flit to his bedroom door, checking to see if you turned on the hallway light to check on him for that outburst. nothing. he breathes a sigh of relief. you must be asleep. or the walls are actually thick here. he sends a silent thank you to the construction people who built this building. 

dont want them knowing how good you feel? i certainly wouldn't mind hearing how good my hot neighbor is feeling tonight. maybe they’re doing the same thing as you right now. who wouldn’t?

you blush at that thought, imagining vash touching himself. damn the bathroom for separating your rooms. what you would give to hear that.

vash was in the same headspace, sharing similar thoughts. he moaned, imagining you touching yourself to his groans and whimpers. no way. you definitely didn't see him in that light. the movie binging you two indulged in every night could only last so long, you claiming you wanted some time to destress before bed, always leaving for bed before him. he relished whenever you two would touch knees, or when you would lean into his side, getting comfortable for the two-hour movie. recalling how you smelt of your body wash and detergent earlier tonight only serves to make his cock throb harder.

increase the pace.

dont have to tell him twice. he goes back into his rhythm, one hand down below, the other moving up and down his length, the rosy tip turning redder, implying his imminent release. gasps and groans ring out. his thighs shake with each upstroke, tears appearing on his waterline. he tries to blink them back, not wanting the chat, especially, bonbon, to see how easily worked up he is. he heeds your commands from earlier, keeping his eyes forward.

stop

you giggle mischievouly, happy to be in control of such a beautiful man, one that follows every whim you can think of. the whine he lets out is comical, the tears trailing down his cheeks, appearing underneath his mask, hanging off his jawline. 

“noooo please have mercy! i don’t know how longer i can hold out for.”

tell us the story of how you tripped on your apartment steps again.

“seriously?? i can’t even think straight bonbon. all i can remember is a friend of mine nearly collapsing on the floor, laughing when they saw how pouty i was when i came to them for help.”

he never mentioned that detail before. funny, you had been in a similar scenario with vash a couple months ago. if you weren’t so horny in the moment, your confusion could have been a revelation.. 

ok, i kid. chat, is it time?

>god yes 

>i dont think i can hold out much longer either

>he looks so hot already

he waits in anticipation, entire body quaking in his chair. his eyes are fixated on the comments section, waiting for your command. 

come, my good boy.

a moan that can only be described as pornographic rips from his chest, his leathered hand stroking himself with a vigor you have yet to see so far in his streaming career. a shudder rips through you, your hand flying to your toy to put it to work. you wanted to be right there with him when he came. 

he begins to blabber, hinting at his cresting release. “ohh my godd so good baby. so go-” his voice hitches, ending an octave higher. you see his eyes squeeze shut through the slits in the mask, jaw dropping open. his body seizes completely, a rumbling groan echoing into his room as he shoots ropes of cum all over his red gloves, his thighs, and his stomach. he whines as he continues to squeeze out the last remnants of his orgasm, lip quivering over gritted teeth. 

it’s almost as if you're there with him, your toy quickly buzzing your release to life, collapsing backward onto your bed, eyes rolling back into your head. you could've sworn that groan rang out closer to you than just in your ears…

you feel the towel beneath you become moist, the cool sensation pulling you back to your dimly lit room. you feel slow, ears ringing from your release, and begrudgingly pull yourself up. it feels as if you’re swimming underwater, floating. the light creeps back into your vision, eyes blinking until it clears enough for you to see the computer screen again.

holy. shit. your eyes widen, hands coming up to cover your mouth. vash is laying back in his chair, still recovering from his release. white is streaked across his thighs, droplets of his release streaming down the thick muscle while pools of his cum stay gathered in the valleys between his defined stomach. he’s panting loudly, small groans interspacing each exhale. you look down at yourself, realizing that you too have made a mess rivaling his own.

>yall seeing this????

>that has to be the most he’s cum in a looong time. maybe ever.

>new kinks discovered?? 

vash lolls his head back forward, reading the flurry of teasing statements. post-nut clarity hits him full force, and he laughs loudly out of shock and overall astonishment. “you might be right chat. i haven’t felt like that since i was a hormonal teenager. bonbon–you did something to me.”

you scream behind your hands after quickly typing your response.

you did so good for me. for us. thank you

now go shower. you’re gonna be sticky soon enough

he sighs, feeling the ecstasy leak from his body. tonight turned out better than he could of ever hoped. “yeah yeah i know. ok everyone. wow. 20 minutes flew by huh? for me it did at least. but have a good night everyone. happy anniversary! lets chat again next week. love and peace!”

>love and peaceeee

>good night king

>sleep tight my cumlord~

he gets up from his chair, pulling his sweatpants back on. you rub your hands on your face. maybe you'll shower too. usually you didn't make such a mess of yourself, but tonight was definitely an exception. you’re about to close out of the tab when you see he is still streaming. he doesn’t seem to realize though, perhaps still feeling the effects from his orgasm. you watch as he takes his gloves off, teeth pulling at the red material. you lean forward, happy to see a new part of himself. you still. 

right as he pulls his right hand from his glove, a glint of silver catches your eye. a ring with engraved flowers sits on his ring finger. a ring…you had given him for his birthday this year. 

he glances up, and jumps slightly. “whoops, missed the end call button. alright, night for real guys.” he waves, before the screen goes black.

you sit there in silence, the desk lamp in the corner the only thing illuminating your dark space. you shake your head. maybe it’s a coincidence. it's not like that ring is the only one to exist in its style. even though you found it at your local farmers market. from a local seller. you decide a shower is desperately needed. as you exit your room, you head for the bathroom next door, tip-toeing as to not wake vash-

vash who steps out from his room right as you reach the bathroom. you shriek. he shrieks. 

“what are you doing up?! i thought you went to bed an hour ago?!” he questions you. you see he makes a move to cover himself, but not before you catch onto several things that are lit from the LEDs in his room. 

he’s shirtless. wearing only gray sweatpants. your ring sits on his right hand, the hand that's moving desperately to clean cum from his stomach. your eyes then catch onto the bunny mask that’s sitting on his bed behind him.

you start screaming. he starts screaming. “WHAT WHAT IS SOMETHING BEHIND ME?!” he whips around, putting himself between you and the potential threat. 

“YOU CANT BE HIM NONONO-”

he turns back around and grabs your shoulders. “hey, slow down. what are you talking about?”

“im bonbon721… from your streams-” your eyes are tightly shut but you dare a peek at him. he’s as white as a sheet. or as his cum from earlier.

“i. um. dont knoww. what you’re talking about-” he stutters.

“oh don’t bullshit me vash. i see the mask behind you. i know you cam. and you’re damn good at it too. no wonder you have thousands of subscribers.”

you can feel the heat radiating off of him. he swallows, and drops his hands from your shoulders, down to your hands. “you don't think…it’s gross?”

vash had kept this secret to himself. he really liked you but was afraid you would see him differently for jerking himself off in front of a camera for strangers. you had always shared secrets with each other since you were young, but this was one he hesitated to share.

“what? of course not. i respect the hustle. plus-” you hesitate. if you were to finish your sentence, it would change your relationship with vash. but you see the pleading look in his eyes, and realize how much of a fool you were for him. you already came this far, especially when you admitted you were bonbon, his top supporter. “-it’s kinda hot,” you finish with a whisper.

he’s relieved, all his previous worries off his shoulders. his shoulders sag, and he leans down onto your shoulder. goosebumps break out on your skin from his proximity. he smells like sex and sweat.

“you did a good job. i wasnt lying when i said i’ve never cum like that before in over a decade.” he releases your hands, wrapping his arms around you and bringing you closer. you relax into his touch, massaging the muscles of his back. “wanna know something?” he whispers in your ear. you can only hum. “in all my streams, i always think of you when i touch myself.” he gives your ear a lick as he pushes into you slightly, making you feel how hard he is. again. 

you cry out at his confession, pushing his chest back to look at him at arms length. he’s completely smug, head tilted, smirk kept back by the sharp canines digging into his bottom lip. he looks at you from top to bottom, seeing the light sheen on your legs. 

“i liked being bossed around, more now knowing it was you doing it. mind if we do it again?”

you feel hot. who would dare refuse an offer like that? 

“why not? but let's take a shower. it’ll save us some time, especially once i’m done with you.” you push him backward, kicking the bathroom door shut behind you.

a/n: you have been subjected to me having too much fun with a fic. i got in a silly goofy mood while slutting this man out. thank you everyone! teehee xoxo

divider

Part 2!

[saturnzskyzz]

Soft Jazz

Lee: Wilson ler: House

Word count: 1,825

𝙰/𝙽: 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍! :]

Soft blues were playing within the small apartment walls of Dr. House's home. With Wilson reading a book, and House at his desk writing about something- medical purposes probably- there was a comfortable atmosphere casting off of the two. And House could feel it.

"What?!" Wilson whispered, although it would be played off as a yell to House.

This caught House's attention almost immediately! He had a flinch to the sound like he had just heard someone realizing they had made a mistake of some kind.

"I hear someone is far gone in that book." House said almost bored of his inquiry, getting back to writing whatever the hell he was writing about.

"Sorry, I just.. This book! How can you have a character do so many things to get to where they need to be, just for them to suddenly get back to where they just started?" Wilson explained, quickly. He looked at House with questions filling up by the second, but knew not to ask since House didn't seem interested in it.

"Well.. A lot of things actually! Have you ever seen a patient get worse; be given something that will have them up on their feet again, to then suddenly go back to square one?" House asked, looking back at Wilson with an expression.

Wilson got up from his spot to go to where House was, all the while answering his obvious question. "Of course! It's just that,, this character almost died. He lost everything! He had a disease that can't be cured. He's fighting a useless battle with bad guys who are too over powering for him to handle. And when he finally found that outlet that he could be saved from everything, he starts all over because of a mistake that he did!" Wilson said, leaning on the wall now.

House praised his writing before staring at the wall to ponder. Literally, how empathetic can this guy get already?

"Did you know that you're incredibly empathetic?" House said, Emotionless.

"Excuse you! You're the one who lent me this book." with retaliation, he threw the overly thick and unnecessarily weighted bookmark he kept on him when first reading the comic, and had hit House right on the back.

House was startled by this. Truly, this was some barbarous scheme, House had thought.

"How dare you?" Was all House said before turning on a heel to face the culprit who caused a dramatic scene. "My best friend.. Throwing something at a blinded eye that could've caused me to tumble to the ground if it had hit me straight in the head?"

Wilson knew this overly exaggerated tone all too well. " Pardon my distribution, but you were the one who came to me sobbing while high off your ass to exchange your book over to my hands." He fought back with the same playful tone. He looked at House with a smug look on his face. House took that as a challenge.

"Well, pardon me-" he began to get up from his spot now, walking over to Wilson in a smooth haste. Wilson moved slightly. "But a friend doesn't just hit their friends for lending a book to them, now do they?" house questioned in mischief. He eyed Wilson like a hawk.

Wilson was in awe. He grew nervous, but still wore his smug look to keep the silly conversation going.

"I beg to differ. Did you want my raw reaction to your book, or not?" Wilson fought back, suddenly fixing the weight he had on his foot to lean more against the wall.

House just stared at him, pondering. This conversation could go anywhere with House's intellectual mind of his.

"Well in this case, I, for one, need an apology." house announces a bit more causal than usual.

This sparks Wilson's interest.

"This it? Just an apology? No blabbering about the bookmark, or the complaining of my rudeness? Just a simple, heartfelt apology?" Wilson asked, dumbfounded.

House then got closer. "An apology would be welcomed."

Wilson grew nervous with his footing. He became a bit antsy to step back, but he resigned.

"And if I don't want to?" Wilson asked, hesitantly. He eyed his movements like a hawk.

"Then I guess you'll pay for your apology." All of a sudden, House quickly, yet unsurprisingly clumsy, reached for the collar of Wilson's button up to swiftly pull him closer to get a better aim for his hands to chill at his sides- scribbling enthusiastically to gain a reaction from his best friend.

It's like the dam broke without much force, giggles instantly pouring out of the poor man. "Hohohouse?! This is nohot necessahary!" he said in a panic, grabbing at the offending hands to try and pry them off with no luck.

House didn't say anything but to keep violating his sides with courage. Waiting for the apology he was dire to hear at any moment.

The silence was killing Wilson by the second. He was feeling hands shoot from his sides up to his ribs, never once seeing a hint of botherment from his friend with how loud he was forcefully being-not that he didn't mind the sudden playful act, but dammit he wanted him to at least say something?!

"SahAHAY sohomething ahalreheady, dahammit!" Wilson blurted out the best that he can, beginning to struggle in the position that House got themselves in.

Luckily he was able to shift to the wall that he was once up against, now using it once more just so he wouldn't fall and tumble to the ground with House. What an outcome that would be, wouldn't it?

Now using the wall as leverage, he squirmed a bit more, trying desperately to pry his hands off. Come on, he can't be serious about this apology, can he?

Gaining the courage to look up at house to see for himself, he was left stunned in his laughter to see that House’s expression was truly being loyal to his expedition of a demand. And that was to actually apologize for throwing his bookmark.

“Yohohou cahan’t be seherious, house! Tehell me yohohou aharen’t seherious!" Wilson blurted out some more to try and gain a response.

“I'm sorry, I can't hear you from my sick music taste called jazz! Maybe a little louder?” with that, he shoved his hands in Wilson’s armpits to make him laugh a bit harder, making it way too obvious as to what he was wanting from his best friend.

“yOHOHou DIHIHICK!” Wilson shouted. He darted his head down from the sudden shock, and shut his eyes as if it were to help his agonizing demise he put himself in.

“Well that's not nice at all, nor was that an apology.” House mumbled low enough for Wilson to at least hear, and dug in his armpits some more to get him wheezing.

The feeling overall had the shorter bend his knees in a heap, and down they go-safely at least- to the floor. This new position was worse for Wilson, cause House is now towering over him, terrifyingly.

“Ohohokay, ohohokay! Ihihi’ll APOhologihize! Ihihi-”Wilson tried to speak his sincere feelings to House, but was left wheezing with how bad of a killer spot his armpits really were.

House wore a small, sinister smirk when hearing this. “What was that? Just one more time, please Dr. Wilson, I have a hard time hearing.” House joked, earning more hard wheezes from his friend. Oh he's gonna regret this later.

“IHIHI’M SOHOrryehehe!” Wilson shouted just then. He was surprised with himself that he was able to get his words out by now, but he thanked his Larynx anyway.

House wanted to be evil yet again. “Awe, how cute? That's not what I'm looking for." House said quickly. Somehow in some way, he was able to quicken his fingers even more in Wilson’s Hallows to drive him mad.

Wilson curled in on himself like an uncharacteristic Roly poly. That cracked a chuckle out of House.

“IHIHI’M SOHORRY FOHOR THROWING THAHAT BOOKMARK AHAT YOHOHOU!!” Wilson finally had the courage to say his sorry. Once House heard this, he finally ceased his attack, relieving Wilson with some rewarding deep inhales of breath.

Unlucky for House, he was now trapped with his hands stuck between Wilson’s underarms.

“I get that I tickled you shitless, but you need to let go of my hands.” House said, motioning his arms to pull lightly for Wilson to get the gist, which caused him to squeeze tighter, curling even more on himself by the feeling.

“Gohod dahammit..” Wilson whispered. He cursed at himself for having such sensitivity on his underarms. After some thought and preparation, he slowly lifted his arms, hoping, praying, that House doesn't go for the old trick in the book.

Luckily.. That wasn't the case. House retreated his hands, and Wilson was released once more by the action.

They were now there in silence for a good minute before House reluctantly got up to go back to his desk like nothing ever happened.

“Next time you want to throw shit at me, I won't go easy on you.” House finally said, threateningly. He sat down on his desk to continue writing his essay of sorts, leaving Wilson to be shocked by his sudden rebuttal.

“Excuse you! That was not nice at all! You could've killed me.” Wilson snapped back. He stayed close to the wall from being tired from earlier.

“And it can get worse if you start this shit up again, now read the next volume and let me be.” House said without glancing once at Wilson.

Next volume? But that was the only volume he gave Wilson.

When there was no movement, or any noise at that matter, House finally stopped his writing to take a quick double look at his friend who was still sitting on their ass.

“Get up! The next volume should be where I grabbed that one at.” house waved Wilson off to go retrieve the volume.

Wilson was yet to understand what he meant by where.

Another look from House to Wilson, he heavily sighed. Utterly defeated. He cannot believe this. “It's on the bookshelf where I keep my magazines and other shit from work, you know which one I'm talking about." House finally said. He only answered with an "ooh!" and ushered to the bookcase.

Retrieving the next volume, Wilson excitedly went back over to the couch to read with eager intent.

And once again, nothing but soft jazz music could be heard as the comfortable atmosphere of the apartment grew once more. Basking in the warm and nice feeling of the night, they were both back to their individual limited lodgings.

[snek-panini]

Happy Halloween! Have a book:

This is Siren's Song by @kedreeva (Hi! I asked to bind your fic months ago, sorry it took so long XD). It's an incredible Good Omens siren AU, which needs no introduction from me but it gets one anyway. It's one of the most in-character fics I've ever read, tackles a lot of the most resonant themes of the original (love in the context of aromanticism and asexuality, human labels in the context of non-human perspective), and has incredible world-building. Later parts of the fic always make me cry but they're good tears. You'll see. When I first learned that fanbinding was a thing and started looking into how to do it, this was one of the first fics I thought of. It just took me a while to learn the skills I needed before I could do it.

More pics and process talk under the cut!

So the cover up there is black faux leather and momi paper that I bought...about two years ago? And just kept on hand till I was ready to do this project. This is the first time I've worked with it and it was fairly nice, though harder to get a nice crease into than lokta or chiyogami. It felt very fragile when I was handling it but I didn't have any issues with tearing or glue bleed-through like I thought I might. It did bleed some color when I got it damp with the glue, and it took way longer to dry than normal, but once that was done it's been fine. Which is nice because I have a lot left over, so it'll probably be making many future appearances in my binds.

Look! It's rounded! I got a backing setup recently and this is my first time using it. It was Very Hard and I am not very good at it yet. But I think it looks pretty good for a first attempt, and there was really no other way to mitigate the spine swell on this one. I used a thick paper so I've got a thick book. I also tried something new with the case, though it isn't visible. Usually I make the text block and the case separately and then attach them as the last step, but for this one I actually built the case around the text. Like, boards attached to mull/tapes (sandwiched between thinner boards, with grooves cut for them so there are no bulges), then covered with momi, then leather corners and spine, then paste down the endpaper. It's got an oxford hollow, too! The tapes and mull actually wrap around the outside of the boards instead of the inside like I've done before. Endpapers are my favorite feather chiyogami. Combined with the marbled momi they make for a very opulent look, and I had just barely enough to do this. Like, down to the millimeter. I had to trim the edges and then glue the endpapers after to be sure they were right. I'm glad they were, because I didn't have a backup plan. Handmade endbands, colors picked to match the cover. Also, last note, I got the corner bits right for the first time. Measured properly, with no weird pointy bits that come out at funny angles. Very proud.

Title page and bookmark/interior shot. Did you know that some basic fonts in MS Word look different when you use a huge font size? Because I didn't until I made this title page. That's Parchment for the title, and it only gets those swirly bits around the capital letters if you take it to 26pt or higher (I used 72 here). Now I wonder if any of the other fonts have easter eggs in them like that. The ribbon is very fancy, to go along with the rich endpaper/cover combo. I think it's pretty appropriate for a mythological golden age of piracy story, as are the text ornaments:

Chapter header image, chapter end image, and section break image. It was a very image-heavy typeset. I was originally planning to only have a header and a section break, but I couldn't decide whether I liked the ships or the book/shell/feather better, and they both suited the story so well that I just went with both. Again, opulent, but I think it fits. All the images came from rawpixel, all I did was resize them.

There was a small error in the trimming process. Comes of having to calculate so closely the exact amount you can trim off, that you have to trim off so your slightly-too-small endpapers fit. I think something got misaligned when I poked the sewing holes because only the first signature is like this. The rest of the book has a more appropriately-sized margin between the page number and the edge. I got very lucky here, and I know it, and I'm never cutting it this close (lol) again. Next time we just order another sheet of chiyogami.

And that's it! I have one author's copy and one new bind in progress right now (that's taking a while because I'm learning more new stuff for it), and then I have two Christmas gift books to do, so it might be a bit before I have another book to share.

[juvenillia]

~ Death of Peace of Mind ~ 03: friends

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!reader

photo credits go to very talented @ave661

a/n: Johnny holds my heart, so of course he will play an important role in this story as well, and as I said before the fic is slow burn but I try to push it a bit further with the next chapters. Gonna try to update every week at least two times | reblogs and comments are highly appreciated, let me hear what you think pls

CW/TW: mentions of loss, rejection, smoking, guilt, ptsd, shutting off due to mental health issues

wordcount: 2.1k

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The rest of the day went on without anymore incidents. You literally tried to avoid Soap and Ghost, not being fond of furthermore discussions or chats. After the rookies were dismissed, you simply asked Price for any other things to accomplish, but he denied the request. Therefore, you went off as fast as possible before the other Seargent could get a grip of you. You decided to make a spontaneous visit at the shooting range. Pulling the trigger with the rest of temper your heart hold, until your stomach told you about some other essential needs.

Afterwards you went quite early to get some dinner, just before you took a cold shower. There you also met the girl next door; her name was Beth. She was way to open, and the bruises at her neck just confirmed a theory about her. It was still pretty chill outside, so you decided to take a book and headed to the patio. The breeze of the wind tangling in your hair, what was still braided together, just a bit looser than usual. Your hair was still a bit dump from the shower, but you didn’t mind.

A cup of tea besides you and the book in your hands. This was kind of therapeutic, shutting your mind blank for a few minutes. A few minutes for your peace of mind. You didn’t know how long you were seated here. From time to time there were other soldiers or recruits passing by, greeting you politely but leaving you alone. Just when it the sun started to set you decided to have your usual evening smoke, before heading in back to your room again.

You put your bookmark in between the pages you stopped. It was a thin piece of cardboard, onto it a colorful drawing of thick grey clouds, just beneath you could find some tiny raindrops, falling down onto a trunk. On top of the wooden piece were placed a black pigeon, a grey dog who would wear a little golden crown. Your thumb brushed carefully over the paper, hardly scared that it would get destroyed if you would touch it too harsh. A lump formed in the back of your throat while you closed the book and put it aside.

Pulling out the box of cigarettes you kept close to you all the time. Opening the box, pulling out the lighter of the box and a fag. You ignited the drug between your fingers and inhaled deeply. Eying the little metallic device in your hand, which had two koi engraved on to it which danced delightful in a circle before pushing it back into the box and back into the pocket you originally found it. You leaned further into the backrest, head falling back while you exhaled a thick cloud of smoke. Let yourself get once more entangled in your own thoughts, but for once you allowed yourself to. Closing you eyes to actually think back to the happy memories replaying.

In the meantime, Soap and Gaz were seated at the canteen, eating their burgers. They tasted like you would never want one ever again, but it was still a welcomed change of food choices. “You’re messing with me!”, Kyle cried out and Soap signaled him to keep his voice low. “Never! I told you, just like that and she was on top of him.”, Johnny explained all over excited again. He grabbed the glass of juice in front of him. “Why didn’t you take a picture?!”, his friend asked him with a hint of disbelief still laying in his voice. “An donas dubh!” [By the devil!] – “English, MacTavish.” – “God dammit, I’m such a roaster. I didn’t think of it!”, Gaz only laughed and ate up to his burger.

“She really stirring up on us, huh?” Johnny let out a chuckle. “True though. I think she’ll just need a bit time to warm up with us. Bonnie is lovely. Just doubting that Lt will…”, his voice a bit falling in the end but remaining as soft as possible. “Find quite a liking in her already? Don't fall for her, mate.”, Gaz teased before going on, “Look, he needed quite some time with us too and he still do, though. Everything will turn out great. Price just knows us too well, for her not to fit in.”, the Brit looking with hopeful eyes at his comrade and Johnny only smiled slightly. “I really hope so.” – “So, I believe we shouldn’t tease Simon about it, huh?”, Gaz stated while pushing the empty plate a bit further on to the table to make space for his arms too lean on. “Defiently not. Even if it’s tempting.” – “Let me guess, your blood was running cold again.” – “Aye, he really dinnea think it’s funny at all.” The two laughed wholehearted before returning their empty dishes and started walking out of the canteen.

Your hand was still clinging around the back of the leathery book from earlier. The taste of the cigarette long forgotten you made your way back to your barrack. Unfortunately, you had to cross ways with the common room, to get back to your own chambers. There were little prayers running through your head, that maybe nobody would be in there, so you could easily spend the rest of the evening alone. To your disgrace they were all seated around. Price placed in a comfy looking armchair holding to a book himself, Gaz all stretched out on a couch scrolling through his phone while chatting with Soap, Ghost simply being present with Soap sitting beside him on the other couch. The Scotsman immediately took notice of your figure and waved you over with a pleasant smile. "Skadi, come sit with us."

Price turned around and gave you his soft smile, an invitation to join them. You really wished to just vanish immediately, but Gaz already shuffled on the couch to make room for you to sit. He patted the place next to him with a smile on his lips. "We won't bite.", he added before you could even deny. With a sigh you entered the room and took the place next to him. "Even if we would, you knew how to handle us. Right, Lieutenant.", Gaz added in a teasing tone what only earned him an annoyed groan from Ghost. Yes Soap warned him before, but that could not stop him from at least a little friendly teasing. Would hurt nobody, right? "What are ya reading?", Soap asked to change the subject abruptly. You bet they talked about it. Of course, they talked about it. You eyes slightly lingering on the stern man, sitting with his arms crossed across from you, before turning your attention back to the Scot.

You held out the book and earned a surprised look from Gaz. "Horror novels?" - "Yeah, I like them.", your tone was soft but still distant. Price looked at the cover as Soap took the book out of your hands and eying the cover. "I dinnea like that genre." The Scot said while handing you the book back. "Cause you're a scared little lad." Gaz teased while putting his phone away. "Nae! We have seen enough horror, eh.", he exclaimed while you were brushing your thumb over the cover yourself, "That's kinda the point.", you started and let your glance wander over to the man across from you, "it's nearly comical what people see as horrifying stories when I think about every bloody hell we walked through."

A little sting in your chest. Completely unintentionally you used the term we, not I. Of course, you assumed that it because everyone of you would have seen things you rather like to erase from your memories, but still, you couldn't speak for them. You didn’t know them. You noticed as you investigated the face from the men across of you. Ghost kept his stern expression, but you could've sworn his brows moved again. It would really take you some time till you could read him properly. Another challenge you gladly accepted. Maybe he was still angry at you. "Makes sense.", Price stated quiet, looking up from his book.

Soap only looked at you with the same expression you saw earlier when you pinned his - well now also your - Lieutenant down the mat. Your brows raised at him. "Bloody hell, stop looking at me so gobsmacked!", you exhaled your accent a bit thicker than usual and with ending your sentence you could only see that his eyes widened even more. Gaz couldn't suppress a laugh and placed his hand on his chest while leaning further into the couch. Price chuckled low and you thought that even Ghost shoulders loosen even the tiniest bit.

"Yer are a Brit?!", Soap exhaled still in shock. You blinked in confusion and Gaz laughter only rise. "What did you thought I am?", you asked him a bit amused about the whole situation. "I dinnea, but not expecting you to be one of them.", he gestured with his hands rushed over the other people in the room in a circular movement. "Especially when you understood me quite well, all day." He added still in disbelief. "He's only mad that the first person that doesn’t insult him for his Scottish is just another Brit.", Gaz breathed out between his laughs. "I told ya, I'm good with languages, Soap.", you stated with a soft smile on your lips. This whole thing felt way to familiar, dangerously familiar.

Ghost watched the scene in front of him and wasn’t so fond of it. Everyone accepted you with no second thoughts, but even worse they already trusted you. He had to remind the two Sergeants later, that this trust could be their doom and that they needed to be a bit more careful. Keeping a save distant and letting you earn their trust. Yes, you deserved the place in the team when Price invited you already, but still you felt to him like an intruder. He had no relatives to care for besides this team. Even if he hated Price for his ongoing 'team is family' speeches, but deep-down Simon knew he was right and he would never let someone risk their wellbeing. He would rather be being hated, than seeing someone of those three men next to him get hurt. No matter if it was mentally or physically. He would take care of every threat coming their way. That's what he saw in you at the moment the most, a threat. A threat to the only thing he holds dear to him.

"A c'mon lassie, just call me Johnny.", Soaps sudden words cut through the air like a sharp knife. If the Lieutenant was a bit loose before, he was all tensed up again. Price gave an approval nod, but you could feel something breaking inside of you. Johnny, oh sweet pure Johnny. His so expecting blue eyes searching for yours. You couldn't hold his gaze and looked down to your hands on the book still resting in your lap. There was a reason everyone introduced them with their callsign. A reason you knew too well. You could compare it to a pig you needed to slaughter one day. Give it a name and you weren't able to do it anymore.

You exhaled with a sigh; your eyes still pinned onto the book. "Look...", you started, and you could already feel how his face faltered. "Don't wanna be rude, really, but I'm not here to make friends.", you explained quickly. If you would have looked up you could see his sunken brows, his head slowly started hanging and a little "Oh, sure...", escaped his lips. There was one rule you were not allowed to break: Do not grow attached. Do not let emotions deceive your point of view. Don’t let history repeat itself.

"Sorry... gonna call it a night and we have to head out early anyways" You added quickly while pushing yourself up and walking back to your room. You didn't even bother to wait for another response. At this point you wished Johnny could've been more like the stern and distant Lieutenant. Ghost wouldn't let you in, he would work with you and at a minimum tolerate you around and that's it. It wasn't difficult that way. Something you'd preferred rather than looking in those hopeful eyes just to see them losing their shine. Just like you saw too many times before. You threw yourself onto your bed and just hoped, that you could be able to sleep tonight. You needed the rest before heading out early tomorrow.

taglist: open just lmk

@yyiikes @saffronimagines @originaldeerhottub

[f1crecs]

'Megaverse Monday - Week five

if your fic is on this list and you don’t want it to be, please let us know and we will remove it immediately, no questions asked. we have contacted most of the authors on this list, but sometimes people fall through the gaps - just pop us a message🤍

have a pairing you want us to do next? please read the faqs and then head to the inbox.

don’t forget to give the authors featured on this list some love in the form of kudos, bookmarks, and comments

did you know that this fandom has one of the highest percentages of a/b/o content? join us as we celebrate the fandom’s incredible omegaverse works every ’megaverse monday. 🤍

Logan/Oscar

nsfw: this is your life, don't play hard to get by @nothingelsematterswrites | E | 79.8k

Regency AU in which Oscar is the adopted omega son of alpha Mark Webber (who is in a closeted relationship with alpha David Coulthard). Oscar must marry and produce an heir in order to secure his future. Mark arranges a match with Logan, the second son of an American family.

What I liked about it: This fic is delightful, leaning into a number of my favourite tropes, especially arranged marriage and found family. Oscar is less than enthused about Logan to begin with. Poor Logan is head over heels for Oscar almost immediately. I also love the Webber household dynamics. Mark is a wonderful father (as is David, behind the scenes) and Logan, who is from a far less loving family, gains the affection and parental support he didn’t even know he was missing.

“And that will mean,” Mark’s tone was warm and teasing, “that there must be no more late-night visits, at least for now.” Oscar sat up, all trace of sleepiness evaporating in panic. “What?” His heart was pounding. His father knew? If his father knew, others might know. He could not have word getting out, he could not afford rumours to start – “Calm yourself, Oscar,” Mark soothed. “I am not upset.” “How - ” Oscar could barely speak through his panic. “How did you - ” Mark’s expression was amused. “You say you have known since you were twelve the truth of what lies between David and I, and yet you have never seen me go to my bedchamber with him; how do you think he comes to my room? He saw Logan the very first night. He is the only other who knows.”

Pierre/Yuki

baby, baby, can you hear me calling out your name? by yukierres | M | 7.6k

This fic is set a few years into the future. Pierre is an omega, a fact he conceals from almost everyone other than Charles, Esteban and his doctors. Yuki is an alpha, now well established at Mercedes, and Pierre has been attracted to him for years. Pierre is caught unawares by an early, intense heat and in confusion and distress he instinctively calls Yuki.

What I liked about it: I just love the relationship here. Yuki is calm and kind in the face of Pierre’s distress and anxiety, and Pierre finds support where he didn’t expect to find it. Pierre is very much in his own head about his omega status and he’s overdue to let someone in.

Fuck, his secret is out too. He can feel the anxiety and panic rising up through him, his body shutting down as he starts hyperventilating at the thought. What does he do now? He has kept it hidden for so long, and he has one moment of weakness and it was all for nothing. What if Yuki says something? He could lose his seat, his career - merde! The tears flow thick and fast, the sobs hiccuping out of his system as he starts to mourn the loss of everything already, too stressed out to notice the figure entering the room and sitting down at the end of the bed, a strong hand reaching out and resting on his ankles, a comforting weight that wakes him up to reality. “Yuki!,” he exclaims with a strangled cry, crawling up to the pillows, dragging the duvet with him to cover his modesty, or whatever is left of it. God, Yuki came and saw him like that. Did Yuki – ? His clothes from before are still all on and sweat-damp, it doesn’t feel like someone removed them at any point. He wouldn’t, would he? Yuki would never do that, he has always been so respectful to everyone around him, omega or not. He instinctively knows he never would touch him without consent, and trusts him wholeheartedly. “Yuki, please - please -, I am so sorry, merde! Mon Dieu! Please, you have to forgive - please don’t say anything -” he stumbles out, a wrangled confused mess of speech falling from his lips in panic. "Pierre," he says and it's so full of kindness that Pierre is bewildered by it, silencing him momentarily to stare back at him “I made you some tea? Do you feel well enough to drink it?”

Charles/Pierre

blueprint by ions | M | 1.9k

Charles has always thought he's a beta, but then he suddenly presents as an omega, and there's only one alpha he wants. The "thought I was a beta, until..." trope is one of my personal favourites for omegaverse, and it's captured perfectly for Piarles in this fic. I love the way this fic paints such a vivid picture of the omegaverse F1 world, and the detail it builds into the characterisation and worldbuilding. The writing style is toned-down but so very effective, and this author captures the nuances of Pierre and Charles' relationship in a way that's truly beautiful. I still think of some of the lines in this fic as cornerstones for characterisation of the Piarles dynamic!

Pierre looks surprised for a split-second, like Charles isn't spread out beneath him. Like he hasn't just needed to ask this whole time. Pierre nods, brow furrowed like it always does when he's bothered with something, whether it was an issue with the karts as kids or more political in-fighting from inside Red Bull. Charles can't help but reach out and gently touch the skin there, Pierre's face finally relaxing. "Please," Charles says again. He hates how whiny it comes out, like a little kid tugging his big brother's sleeve again. When Pierre had jumped to single-seaters early, Charles hated being just Pierre's little friend when he went to the races. Charles doesn't know why. He has always been Pierre's.

thanks to @lydia-petze and @singsweetmelodies for compiling this weeks list! 🤍

[starryid]

name . willow garnet hawk . nickname(s) . low , wil . age . twenty-seven , born june 12th . place of birth . kilmer's cove , rhode island . never left . occupation . park ranger . with a side of doing some meddling with her friends into the different flavors of weird in kilmer's cove . sexuality . doesn't care enough to label it . family . only acknowledges her grandmother . believes in the ghost stories .

faceclaim . blu hunt . height . 5' . will joke her personality is bigger than her height . eye color . brown . hair . dark brown always kept just below her shoulders . tattoos . a few ( tbd ) . piercings . just the run of the mill single piercings in her ears . scars . a few mostly on her hands . notable features . her dimples and splashing of faded freckles on her cheeks .

( + ) . adaptable , friendly . ( - ) . impulsive , passive aggressive . dreams . travel the world josh gates style . fears . failing , never getting out of kilmer's cove ( even though she is her own worst enemy on that one ) , disappointing her grandmother . quirks . biting her finger nails , clenching her jaw , scrunching up her whole face as she laughs . aesthetics . pressed flowers as bookmarks , looking up at the sun through your fingers , a cloud of vape smoke , an old backpack covered in patches and pins ( her favorite being a handmade one saying ' the nychterida believes in you ' ) , drawing a star above the i in her name , laughing so loud it could wake the dead . scent . vanilla , woodsy , and whatever juice she has on her . inspo . momo ayase ( dandadan ) .

mentions of child abandonment .

a result of a one night stand the girl was born only having her mother and grandmother as family , not that a baby has the capacity to ask about a lack of father . everything was good and great , she was loved and taken care of , mainly by her grandmother but her mother had her ways of showing a young willow her love . when willow was four was when her mother met a man , and then her mother was gone shortly after the pairs meeting citing kilmer's cove was too small for someone like her . willow sat outside on the porch for hours on end for the entirety of a week after the tires screeched down the street .

willow and her grandmother are thick as thieves . truly she is the older woman's mini me . it was being raised by her grandmother that got her interested in the paranormal , the cryptids , and the occult . she told her granddaughter all the stories and the pair frequented the museum , wildlife reserve , and the cliffs . every part of her being was influenced and shaped by her . willow stopped asking about her mom at nine , when she'd been secretly hoping for a postcard or birthday card or something ( ! ) for the last few years , she doesn't hate the one that gave birth to her she kind of hopes she found the adventure she was looking for . has never expressed any interest in finding out who her father is .

the rest can be written as her living her life . she has a bachelors in environmental science which opened a door to being able to work at her favorite place in the whole of kilmer's cove as a park ranger .

headcanons . has a massive sweet tooth . loyal to those she calls friends , will make snide remarks or snippy insults to those who say anything bad about any one of them . self proclaimed mom friend , always has a first aid kit in her backpack as well as a knife and a few other little things she calls necessities . will call mentioned earlier friends up to make sure they have in fact eaten and drank water that day . believes in pics or it didn't happen . not as out loud or forward with her beliefs , but she will debate anyone at the drop of a hat on the weird things surrounding kilmer's cove . collects rocks she finds interesting . can't commit to pets or romantic relationships but she's locked in for houseplants . night owl . not only is unexplained a interest for her but she also likes scary movies and superhero flicks . swears up and down she's seen the nychterida before . outgoing and friendly she's still only willing to call a few her close friends and she adores them to the disgraced pluto and back .

connections . ultimately part of kilmer's cove's very own version of the scooby gang . will they , won't they . always something dancing on the edge of flirtatious , but ultimately it's always willow that shies away . ( open ) co - workers . other park rangers , maybe they get along or maybe they think willow is weird . ( x , x , x , x ) childhood best friend . are they still friends ? do they hate each other ??? did one like the other and the other not feel the same ?? i'm a sucker for angst okay . ( open ) short lived thing . just a relationship that happened and ended just as soon as it began . willow probably would like to still call this person a friend , but they probably don't feel the same way . ( open ) if i'm ryan , you're shane . the person she butts heads with the most on all things paranormal , their beliefs on opposite sides . but she'd probably still go out for a drink with them or laze about their living room . ( open )

this are just some basic little things i'm rather open to a lot to !

[ngkiscool]

Another Day In Paradise

My @flashfictionfridayofficial contribution for the prompt On The Edge.

The doorbell dinged, followed by heavy footsteps that purposely approached the comfortable chair Aziraphale was sitting on. He kept on reading, too engulfed in his book.

The man coughed meaningfully, but when Aziraphale ignored him still, he decided to take a more direct approach. "Are you the owner of this establishment?"

After he tucked a bookmark in the right place, Aziraphale closed the book and laid it gently on the table. Only then did he lift his eyes to look at the person who dared to disturb his reading. People had requested his attention from time to time; it was one of the disadvantages of having a bookshop. This time, he felt, would be different.

"Yes, I am. And you are?"

The man laughed, a high-pitched sound that hadn't helped to lighten the mood. "My name is not important, Mr. Fell. The only thing that matters is the contract you are about to sign."

"And what contract would that be?"

A briefcase landed on the table, a bit too close to the precious book Aziraphale read (but, luckily, not on it). The man opened it and drew out a thick bundle of pages. "This one."

Aziraphale scanned quickly through the pages and handed them back over to the man in front of him (who still hadn't bothered to introduce himself, how rude). "And why would I agree to sell my bookshop?"

"A lovely place you got here, Mr. Fell. Full of old books."

That was true, the bookshop was full of books. That was the whole point of it. What else would he sell in it, water pipes? "Thank you, my dear. That is very kind of you to say."

Obviously, this was not the response the man was waiting for, judging by his coughing fit.

"Are you well? Perhaps you should seek medical help."

The man's face took on an interesting shade of purple. "It is not my health that is on the line here, Mr. Fell, but yours!"

Aziraphale was on the edge of his patience by now. "My health is as tickety boo as always, mister. I suggest that if you want yours to be the same way, you will take the contract and leave my bookshop immediately."

"Or else?" The man leaned on the table, showing no intention of leaving the premises.

"That is quite enough, young man. You have been warned and decided to ignore it; now you will face the consequences. You will go to the nearest police station to confess all your crimes, and you will never harass innocent people again. Is that clear?"

As if possessed by a demon, the man did as he was told. As his footsteps echoed in the quiet street, Aziraphale returned to his chair and opened the book again.

"Really," he muttered to himself. "Can't an angel read in peace?"

[bluejadedragon]

More Sneak Peaks to WIPS (because I haven't finished any and I really need to)

1. Mermay? Sharpagne? More likely than you'd think.

His eyes snapped up, his first thought being another employee had found him and was going to start harassing him. Nobody was running up the beach though, instead a frothing disturbance a few hundred metres away drew his gaze. With a furrowed brow, he fixed his bookmark before leaving his book on the rock, standing to approach the racket. 

An angry snarl threatened to escape as his closer inspection revealed something trapped in a discarded fishing net. It was large, and shimmering bluish scales shone as a thick tail smacked against the bank, distressed trills filling the air above the splashing. Champagne sighed quietly, approaching slowly as he called out.

“Easy there, buddy, you’re gonna get hurt if you keep thrashing like that.”

To his disappointment, that only seemed to make the creature more distressed, the trills cutting off as the tail slammed painfully against the sand and rope. Champagne winced as he noted a small trickle of red spilling between iridescent scales. If they kept this up, they could get seriously hurt- a severed fin or worse.

“Easy there, easy, let’s get that off you, ey?”

He reached forward, grabbing the net and pulling slightly to get the creature fully onto the wet sand dividing the beach and ocean. He tugged a tattered cover off the old net with a wrinkled nose, turning back to continue freeing the creature before freezing. 

Blue-green eyes that matched the shimmering tail stared back at him.

Champagne swallowed thickly. A mer. He was freeing a- a mer. Okay. Wow.

“Hi there.” He said softly, reaching to slowly start untangling the rope from around the large blue-green tail. The mer didn’t respond, watching him intently with wide, wide eyes, hands curling into sand, body tense.

2. Losing Ourselves on the Interstate

The kid fell asleep sometime before the border cross into Pennsylvania. Benny didn’t mind, happy to let the kid rest as long as they needed. The dark bags under their eyes certainly suggested they needed it. They blinked awake as Benny turned off to a pit stop. He didn’t plan to stay long, a few hours of sleep maybe, but the look in the kid’s eyes as they stopped at a slightly shabby carpark made him hesitate.

“Hey, Astra? Do you want to keep moving? We don’t have to stay.” Look, don’t judge, he tries, okay? He never claimed to be the best when it came to people, but even he could tell something was off with the kid.

“No.” They breathed. Their eyes were fixed on the wildflowers growing by the toilet block.

“You sure?”

“Yes.” The bite is back, but it has no real heat to it. “Bathroom.”

And then they’re gone, disappeared into the dark. Benny let out a soft sigh, then grabbed his favoured green blanket, climbed into the back and curled up to catch a few hours of shut eye. With the van off, the sounds of wildlife drifted through the metal plating to reach his ears. Tiredly, he rolled over, pillowed his head on his arm, and sunk into the depth of sleep.

A door opening caused him to stir in his sleep, but a quiet, “you can keep sleeping” stopped him from waking completely. 

It was only when the sun began to rise nearly six hours after he initially fell asleep that Benny properly woke. With a grunt, he pushed himself up and into the front seat. He kicked the door open, stepped out and stretched, watching the sky transform as he leaned against the van’s front. He glanced over as Astra rounded the bonnet to sit above the number plate. In their hand was a thermos that they offered Benny.

“Coffee.” They said by way of explanation at Benny’s odd look. It was decent coffee. Once he was feeling more awake, Benny hopped back into his seat and warmed up the engine.

“Come on kid. Let's go get some real breakfast.”

Astra nodded.

“Can we pick up some crickets from a pet store too?”

Benny frowned and turned to ask before pausing. His gaze flicked from the creature on his dash to the kid next to him.

“Where did you get that.” He asked flatly. Astra scooped the critter up and placed it in a small container.

“Behind the toilets. I don’t know how long they were there for. I don’t know if they’ll live, but they were an abandoned pet. Have to be. Leachie’s aren’t native here. And this one’s just a baby.”

Benny elected not to question the seemingly random reptile trivia, instead sighing and not trying too hard to hide his smirk. “Alright kid. Let’s get all three of us fed up, ‘ey?” Astra looked up at him with something like hope in their eyes, before looking down at the critter -leachie- with a small smile.

“Yeah.”

3. Sneak Peak to Chapter 11 of LttS

Jake muttered his goodbyes, mind a mess he was trying to clean as he kicked off the side of the building. The other’s had gotten used to his odd form of travel, only offering calls to be careful now instead of the shocked gasps he’d heard the first time they’d seen him fly. The wind whipped his hair about his face and he closed his eyes, imagining his worries being blown off his back. Unfortunately, it was this relaxation that allowed him to pick up on the sounds of yelping.

His eyes snapped open and he was diving before he could think, goop covering his eyes to protect against the wind. He barely had time to process where he was going before he found his target. 

He felt his blood boil.

“HEY!” He yelled, dust flicking around him and condensing in his goo as he landed, skin pricking with anger. The group jumped before turning on him.The ringmaster glared at him, but Jake wasn’t looking at him. Instead, he was staring daggers into the teen a few steps behind the leader. A very familiar teen who he’d seen only a few weeks ago in a dark alley. 

“What do you think you’re-” “Two options.” Jake cut off, voice pitched low and dangerous. “Either you can step away from that fine woman there, or I can make you.”

He grinned at that, all teeth and no spark, before flicking a small orb to land straight between the leader’s eyes. “So, what’ll it be?” 

The group charged.

- - - - - - -

Annie was beginning to wonder if her new friend was the cause of her series of unfortunate events.

[gregoftom]

Hii, love your blog! Came kinda late to the shipping so I wasn't able to see it go down live, good to know someone is keeping the ship alive!

I was wondering if you knew where to get the scripts? Other than, you know.. buy the books.

Tom and Greg are the best ship out there, just sticking together thru thick and thin (and some betrayals lol).

Tom truly said "I'll look after you" and he meant it wholeheartedly ❤️

hhhiiiii!! don't worry i honestly came in really late too, i started watching half way - the end of season 4, so you're not alone! and hell yeah buddy i ain't going anywhere. they got me by the throaaat omg

yep! well ain't that how a rs works? you have your fights and disagreements and rough road but in the end you come out stronger! kinda, lol. obviously it's not the same with them but in the world of succession they are the only somewhat healthy rs on there lmao. or they at least have the potential to be.

yeah.... i think about that all the time. promises are constantly broken on succession, a promise is as good as a turd on there lmao, ESPECIALLY to greg where mfs who promised to protect him or take care of him just went OOP actually nvm or jerked him around, but tom's wasn't. he kept it the whole time <3

and i have a link i have bookmarked of them all uploaded! i can't remember where i got them from but here!

[theartofdreaming1]

For the weird writing asks and sorry I'm on mobile on the train, can't copy the questions right now but:

4, 15, 16, 35 aaaand 40

Sorry <3

4. What's a word that makes you absolutely feral?

Hmh, I don't know if I really have a specific word like that (or at least can't remember on the spot), but I guess the most recent time I felt like I'd go feral over a word was while watching episode 2 of Pushing Daisies, when we see Ned getting dumped at boarding school and his father's saying good-bye and we get this absolutely cutting narration:

"I'll be back," he lied.

I think I've never felt this strongly over the use of such a simple word as 'to lie" before, but this simple phrase (and word) really felt like a punch to the gut, damn.

15. Do you write in the margins of your books? Dog-ear your pages? Read in the bath? Do you judge people who do these things? Can we still be friends?

No, I can't bring myself to write in books; I once just wrote my name on the very first empty page of a book (I think in pencil, even?) and I have felt absolutely horrible about it ever since (it doesn't help that my handwriting is atrocious). If I want to mark some phrases/passages from a book I'm reading, I write them down on a blank index card (complete with page citation) and put that in the book or I use some tiny sticky-notes 😅

The only exception I've ever made without a guilty conscience was writing the inscription of the ring from LOTR into my edition of Heinrich von Kleist's "Die Verlobung in St. Domingo" ("The Betrothal in Santo Domingo"), which I had to read for school xD

Similarly, I can't even fathom dog-earing any book on purpose! I try to keep my books as pristine as possible, even doing my darndest not to open my unabridged edition of Les Miserablés too widely, lest the spine gets more cracks and becomes even uglier (a very futile endeavour, since it is one of those boring black penguin paperback editions and the book is over a 1000 pages thick and you're inevitably gonna get some cracks in the spine, but I just cannot help myself)

And since I don't like taking baths and don't have a tub in my apartment, I don't read in the bath (I also would be terrified of getting my poor book wet).

But at this point in my life I'm mature enough to take a live-and-let-live stance on these things, so I won't judge people who do this to their books too harshly ;) (I can definitely see the appeal of handwritten margins in books, although the concept of dog-earing a book still makes me wince just thinking of it- but as long as it's not my book, it's fine)

16. What's the weirdest thing you've ever used as a bookmark?

Boy, I'll use anything at hand as a bookmark (although now that I have gotten some of the bookmarks I designed myself printed, I usually have something at hand) and since I'm quite messy, an improvised bookmark can be anything - grocery receipts, return receipts from library books, other books, whole comic book issues, empty envelopes, you name it 😅

35. What's your favorite writing rule to smash into smithereens?

Rules, what are rules? 😉🔨 Honestly, I don't think I consciously follow any rules when I sit down to write my little stories - I just bang my head against the keyboard until the words sound like the story that is lodged somewhere inside my brain;- I once had to take a "Writing" exam in which we had to write a strictly structured 250-300 word pro-contra-essay and it was absolute agony - I like my creative writing to be joyful and free (once it gets past my crippling perfectionism and debilitating procrastination, that is ;)

40. Please share a poem with me, I need it.

I'm always very fond of Emily Dickinson's "Hope":

“Hope” is the thing with feathers - That perches in the soul - And sings the tune without the words - And never stops - at all - And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard - And sore must be the storm - That could abash the little Bird That kept so many warm - I’ve heard it in the chillest land - And on the strangest Sea - Yet - never - in Extremity, It asked a crumb - of me.

[ninasbookshelf]

hi all! this post is a bit delayed, but i got the october 2023 fairyloot ya fantasy box recently and i wanted to share! the theme this time is "enchanted forest" and the box features The Forest Grimm by Kathryn Purdie. the book is adorned with beautiful sprayed edges, which you can see in this post, and the box came with lots of other goodies too. there are two art prints—one of which has a letter from the author on the back—a bookmark, two tarot cards, alice in wonderland-themed bag clips, and an adorable mushroom teaspoon that i plan to use for my tea this evening. there are also some really cool book page overlays based on Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries by Heather Fawcett. these have convinced me to get a copy of the book. i never knew page overlays were a thing and i love them!! for those who also aren't in the know, page overlays are thick transparent pieces of paper printed with images based on the book. they can be placed on top of the page so the text can be seen through it. (a quick google search for "page overlays" shows a bunch of examples if that doesn't make sense in writing, lol). they're really pretty!

this box also came with an embroidery set, the perfect autumn/winter craft. i'm really excited to use it!

lastly there is an album which can be used to store the art prints that come with each fairyloot box. i went through my collection of prints last week and organized them all into the album. very satisfying. 10/10 experience.

i've been on a bit of a memoir and re-reading kick, so i haven't quite kept up with reading all the fairyloot books of late, but from the sounds of it, The Forest Grimm will be right up my alley. maybe it's time to change things up! i'll keep you updated. thanks for reading ✨✨

[snek-panini]

Very belated Binderary books, uh...I've lost track actually. I think they are #6 and #7. And it's another two-volume split! This is (Slow) Burn, Baby, Burn by orchidlocked, an extremely long Good Omens fic set in the 1970s. It's about our favorite angel/demon pair navigating the disco scene, and it's not an AU, which is sort of usual in a fic this long and with such a specific premise. There are a fair few real people featured here, some as major characters, and a lot of music history and an excellent playlist alongside all the fun and angsty relationship stuff that so many of us are here for. I learned a lot about disco reading this fic and it was fascinating and also way more queer than I ever realized.

For the cover up there we have a white Allure book cloth on the spine, and white HTV over homemade book cloth for the main cover. The cloth pieces both come from the same sheet but I oriented the stripes this way so they'd be coordinated-but-not-matched and I really love the effect. They're also cotton and really nice to hold. It's funny, I was thinking of binding this fic when I found the fabric while digging through the Joann's remnant bin, and as soon as I saw it this fic not only came to mind but moved up to the top of the to-bind list. It was fate, clearly.

More photos under the cut!

Both spines and a top view. That's orange HTV for the titles. This it the first time I've worked with matte HTV (I usually use metallic or foil) and I was surprised at how much thinner it is, and how easy it was to stick. And I like the color inverse here in counterpoint to the front cover. The top view shows off the handmade endbands and bookmark, and also the rounding job. I'm still working on rounded spines, and the turn-in over the spine didn't come out as smooth as I'd have liked, but I think it's a good result. The ribbon bookmark was supposed to be blue to match the endbands, but every blue ribbon I could find clashed horribly with the cover so it's this nice leafy sage green. Which actually works really well with...

The endpapers! I got these as Joann's too. All four are cut from the same print, but I shifted and rotated them when I trimmed them so the patterns wouldn't all be in the same place. I had desperately wanted this other paper I found on Etsy with little vinyl records all over it, but the pieces weren't the right shape and I'd have had to ship them from overseas ($$), but I like the mood these ones set. And they're thick and nicely textured and look awesome with the cover, so really I think things worked out very well.

Couple of pics of the interior. I kept it fairly simple but I feel like it fits the story.

The scene break line is orange, to match the covers. I usually use gray but wanted something more fun. I recently bought some off-white paper that I used for most of my binderary projects this year because I've heard it's easier on the eyes, and it is, but I used the older bright white for this so the color contrast would be sharper. No complaints; I think it looks amazing. The second image above is the appendix I put together for the volume. Being so centered in the music industry, this fic has a really long playlist that the author put together with their preferred recordings. It's linked in the story and I did include the link text in the book, but I had my mind on preservation and the challenges of digital archiving while I was making this one, so I also took all the title/artist/album info and just listed it here. It was too much to do all by hand, so I learned how to export a Spotify playlist into an Excel doc, then moved that into the Word doc to print. A lot of steps, but not nearly as hard as I'd thought, and way less tedious.

I have to say this book is aesthetically really different than all my previous ones. I ran into so many design hurdles but I honestly couldn't be more pleased with the end result. I'll have to push my comfort zone like this more often, I guess.