#shelf love podcast

[clinchcoverenthusiast]

An interesting read, for sure.

[boyswillbedogz]

just realized the public has never seen jonathan sims chicken. didnt sculpt this fine boiy but i did paint him at my birthday party!

[theyaoishelf]

There is no live for this month but...WE'LL BE @citruscon ! We'll be discussing fandom and fix-it and we are THRILLED!

[parasitic-saint]

thinking abt the "i want to be her dog" spectrum on madam hotel enjoyers

[darlingofdots]

my issue with the "dark romance" recommendations on tiktok isn't that they're """problematic""" it's that every time i go to check one out it has the worst punctuation and prose known to man

[willowsnook]

Night Routine

hii could you write something about lewis very fluffy?? idk like their morning together or their night routine 🤍 from @prttylight��

lewis hamilton x gf!reader

The intoxicating smell of fresh herbs blending together for dinner greets Lewis as he arrives home after a long day of meetings. Shrugging off his coat, he rounds the hallway corner, stopping to lean against the entryway and watching you.

You are unaware of his presence, having missed the sound of the door opening and closing, too busy listening to a podcast while making soup for dinner. He watches you for a bit before coming up behind you, snaking his arms around your waist and startling you.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he says, pressing a kiss against your temple.

“Hi, Lew,” you reply, turning to smile up at him. “How was your day?”

“Busy,” he answers simply. “How was yours?”

You shrug, turning back to the pot in front of you. “Productive, for the most part.”

“Good,” he mumbles against your neck, not wanting to let go. Lewis is a very clingy man, especially behind closed doors.

“Why don’t you go change? Dinner will be ready when you’re back,” you suggest, and he reluctantly lets go, heading into the bedroom.

He returns just as you’re ladling the soup into bowls and setting them on the table.

As Lewis sits down, you can’t help but notice how his eyes light up at the sight of the steaming bowls in front of him. He reaches for your hand across the table, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“This looks amazing, love. Thank you,” he says, his voice warm with appreciation.

You smile back, feeling a flutter in your chest at his words. “You’re welcome. I hope you like it.”

As you both begin to eat, Lewis tells you more about his day, the meetings he had, and the plans for the upcoming race weekend. You listen intently, offering words of encouragement and support. It’s these quiet moments together that you cherish the most, away from the cameras and the public eye.

After dinner, Lewis insists on doing the dishes, shooing you away to relax. You curl up on the couch with a book but find yourself watching him instead, admiring the focus and concentration he has for something so simple. Your eyes trail from his face to his toned body, and you get lost in the view, only pulled back to reality when you hear him clear his throat.

“You’re staring,” he muses, and you smirk.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you tease, and he lets out a small laugh.

He grabs his own book off the shelf and joins you in the living room. You sit up to make space for him, and he pulls a pillow onto his lap so you can lie back down comfortably.

He interrupts your reading every so often to tell you about something interesting he’s come across, and you’re amused by how excited he gets. Once it gets later in the night, you yawn, and Lewis immediately closes his book.

“Shower, then bed?” he suggests, and you nod sleepily.

You follow him into the bathroom, stripping off your clothes as he gets the shower ready.

The warm water cascades over your bodies as you step into the shower together. Lewis gently massages shampoo into your hair, his fingers working out the tension from the day. You lean into his touch, sighing contentedly.

“Turn around,” he murmurs, and you comply. He begins to wash your back, his strong hands kneading your muscles. You can’t help but let out a soft moan of pleasure.

“Feel good?” he asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Mmhmm,” you respond, too relaxed to form words.

After rinsing off, you return the favor, washing Lewis’s back. He closes his eyes, savoring your touch.

Once clean, you both step out of the shower, wrapping yourselves in fluffy towels. Lewis pulls you close, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“I love you,” he whispers, staring deeply into your eyes.

“I love you too, and I love nights like these,” you reply softly.

You dry off and change into comfortable pajamas, Lewis opting for just a pair of sweatpants.

In the bedroom, you climb into bed, immediately snuggling close to Lewis as he wraps an arm around you. He traces lazy patterns on your skin with his fingertips, the gentle touch soothing you toward sleep.

[satellite-evans]

Le petit prince

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader

Summary: “The most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or touched, they are felt with the heart.”

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: fluff

A/N:

This is something that popped into my head and I couldn't help myself. It is not my best work and I am not quite familiar with Charles but I tried my best lol

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

It was an unspoken truth that the entire world seemed to be in love with your husband. His charming smile, his effortless elegance, the way he carried himself both on and off the track—all of it made him irresistible to anyone who laid eyes on him. And while you couldn’t deny that you adored these traits about him, they weren’t the reasons you fell so deeply in love with him.

No, it was his mind. His wisdom, his insatiable curiosity about the world, and his eagerness to share what he learned with you were what truly captured your heart.

Charles had an intellect that burned brightly beneath the surface of his public persona. He wasn’t just a racer; he was an observer, a thinker. The books he read, the documentaries he watched, the podcasts he consumed during long flights or lonely hotel nights—all of them painted a picture of a man who was deeply intrigued by the world around him. And it was so unbelievably attractive.

Unlike some men, who might lord their knowledge over others or diminish their partner for not knowing something, Charles shared his discoveries with a kind of boyish enthusiasm that made you want to listen, learn, and engage with him. It was as if every fact, every little piece of knowledge, was a gift he was excited to give you.

“Did you know,” he said one evening as you sat together on the balcony, the skyline glittering behind him, “that octopuses have three hearts? Two pump blood to the gills, and one pumps it to the rest of the body. But when they swim, the one pumping to the body stops. Isn’t that incredible?”

You leaned closer, resting your chin in your hand, completely enthralled. “That’s amazing, Charles. I didn’t know that.”

“I thought you’d like that one,” he said with a smile, his green eyes sparkling in the soft light.

Moments like these were your favorite. He was entirely himself with you, not the Formula 1 superstar the world admired, but the curious, tender-hearted man you had fallen in love with. He got as much joy from sharing these tidbits as you did from hearing them, and your enthusiasm only encouraged him.

You first met Charles in the most unassuming of places: a quiet little bookstore tucked away in the streets of Monaco. As a resident of the city, you often found solace wandering its hidden gems, especially the ones that felt untouched by the glittering extravagance Monaco was known for. This bookstore, with its creaky wooden floors and the faint scent of aged paper, had become your haven whenever life felt overwhelming. You had gone there on a whim, craving the comfort of an old favorite book, The Little Prince. Little did you know, that same book would change your life forever.

As your hand reached for the single remaining copy on the shelf, it collided with another. Startled, you looked up and met a pair of warm, hazel-green eyes. The faint scent of aged paper and leather bindings filled the air, mingling with the soft murmur of a distant conversation and the occasional creak of the wooden floorboards as other patrons moved about. For a moment, the world seemed to still, the gentle warmth of the bookstore wrapping around you like a protective cocoon. Charles. Even then, you knew who he was. It was impossible not to. But what struck you wasn’t his fame or his looks—though those were undeniably striking. It was the way he immediately stepped back, smiling apologetically.

“C'est à vous,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “Je vous en prie.” ("It's yours, I insist.")

“No, really, it’s okay,” you replied. “I can wait for another copy.”

But Charles wouldn’t hear of it. He purchased the book and handed it to you outside the store. “Only if you’ll let me buy you a coffee to make up for the trouble.”

The coffee turned into an hours-long conversation, one where you discovered a man who was so much more than the glamorous image the world saw. You spoke about everything and nothing—books you loved, your favorite childhood memories, and even silly debates like whether croissants or pain au chocolat reigned supreme. Charles shared stories about growing up in Monaco, how the roar of engines had always been a part of his life, but so had the quiet afternoons his mother would spend reading to him. He confessed his love for history, the way he found peace in learning about the past, and how it sometimes felt like the world moved too fast for him to keep up. You, in turn, told him about your passions, your quirks, the little things that made you feel alive. By the time the conversation ended, it felt as though you had known him for years, not just a few hours. He was kind, attentive, and curious about your thoughts on everything. By the time you exchanged numbers, your heart was already a little lighter, a little fuller.

Your relationship grew in the quiet spaces between his chaotic schedule and your own life. And yet, no matter how hectic things got, Charles always made you feel like you were the center of his world. He’d call you from far-flung locations, sharing the things he’d learned that day, whether it was a new French word he’d picked up or an interesting fact about the city he was visiting.

“Did you know that Kyoto has over 1,600 temples?” he asked one evening, his voice crackling slightly over the phone. “I wish you were here to see it.”

“Me too,” you said softly. “But tell me everything about it. What did you see today?”

And he did, painting vivid pictures with his words so that you felt as though you were right there beside him.

When Charles proposed, it was as though your entire world had crystallized into a single perfect moment. He took you back to that little bookstore where you first met, leading you inside under the pretense of looking for a book. But when you turned around, he was there on one knee, holding out a ring and looking at you like you were his entire universe.

“You’ve given me more than I ever thought I could have,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “A love that feels like home. A reason to keep learning, growing, and becoming a better man. Will you marry me?”

Through tears, you managed to say yes, and he swept you into his arms, laughing with pure, unfiltered joy.

Now, years later, you found yourself sitting together in your cozy living room, the remnants of his birthday party scattered around. Everyone had gone home, leaving just the two of you to share a quiet moment. Charles picked up the last gift, the one you’d been waiting all evening for him to open.

“Let’s see what this is,” he said, glancing at you with a playful smile. “You’re more excited than I am.”

“Just open it!” you urged, your hands fidgeting in your lap.

Carefully, he peeled back the wrapping paper, revealing the familiar cover of The Little Prince. For a moment, he just stared at it, his expression unreadable. Then he opened it and saw the inscription you’d written on the first page:

To my prince, who taught me that the most beautiful things in life are felt with the heart. Joyeux anniversaire, my love.

He looked up at you, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You kept it?”

“Of course,” you said softly. “It’s where it all began.”

Charles set the book aside and pulled you into his arms, holding you as though he never wanted to let go. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he whispered into your hair. “Thank you for loving me, for seeing me, for being you.”

You buried your face in his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your cheek. In that moment, the rest of the world faded away. It was just you and Charles, two hearts intertwined, finding solace and joy in each other’s presence.

And as he kissed you, slow and tender, you realized that you’d never need anything more than this. Because with Charles, you’d found your forever.

[stupidsexygrizzop]

do you know how much money i would drop to get cowboys on vinyl. put i have been to the future in a 4 disc set. let me hold it in my hands

do you know how much real money i would spend on a woe.begone official branded cowboy hat if they existed? i'd buy three. at least.

[vintagerpg]

I love monster books, and this week is mostly about monster books! And, if you’re a listener of the Vintage RPG Podcast, you know how much I love our first monster book, Skerples’ The Monster Overhaul (2023).

The subtitle is “A Practical Bestiary,” as it aims to be usable right at the table, on the fly, thanks to lots of tables and good thinking regarding the design. Its a very usable book and, when not in play, it rewards browsing. The book is divided into 20 categories (each illustrated by a different artist, give or take) of monster, each containing ten monsters that hew to a theme. The categories are unusual: there is “Dragons,” of course, but also “Summer” and “A Wizard Did It.” Summer monsters include the Froghemoth, Mandrake, Chaos Frogs, Pryomancers, Tunnel Hulks and more. Some of these may sound similar to classic D&D monsters, others are entirely new. In addition the core ten, each theme is supplemented by ten monsters from other themes in the book (for instance, the supplemental Summer monsters include Treants, Catoplebas and Fairies). Tables galore help build and flesh out encounters. Summer includes a set of generic swamp hexes, other entries have lairs and dungeons. There is an entire flowchart table for populating a megadungeon.

Basically every page of this book makes you think about monsters. How do you make them new, recontextualize them, find different pairings for them, stick them in unusual environments, subvert player expectations of them? Like all great RPG supplements, the book not only offers a set of answers for all these questions and more, it also teaches the reader how to continue answering them long after these published tables and suggestions are exhausted.

Pardon the pun, but a monstrous achievement that should be on every GM’s shelf.

[moongreenlight]

Said my piece about stalker!soap but how could I forget stalker ex boyfriend!ghost????????????!

Cw: Creepy crawler behavior. Stalking. Breaking in.

Maybe you should stop listening to true crime podcasts at work.

It feels entirely silly. You’re surely working yourself up over nothing, but some mornings you wake up and have to explain-away the way that your toothbrush is in the wrong spot or that there’s a lunch packed in the fridge that you can’t remember putting together yourself. There’s pictures on your phone that look like your dark bedroom that you’re pretty sure you didn’t take yourself. Maybe you accidentally took it on the way to bed? While you were getting up to use the bathroom?

You talk yourself blue in the face explaining it away well enough that you convince yourself your flat must be haunted. It seems almost logical? Better than any of the alternatives you can come up with if nothing else.

You live with the infrequent tweaks and changes to your surroundings. Lights on you shut off. Doors open you left closed. Your laptop charger going missing when you were certain you left it on the desk.

You almost go so far as to get a motion-activated light to plug into the outlet by your bedroom door, but you convince yourself against it after wandering the aisles of a drugstore with it in your cart long enough for an employee to start following you around. You toss it back on the wrong shelf and buy a packet of sweets you won’t eat in an attempt to not look like you were casing the joint.

But then it picks up. Gets more serious. Windows being opened while you sleep. Strange creaking of floorboards that are too loud to be the building settling. Your bed being made when you get back from an outing you had to rush out the door for. Massive men’s sweaters showing up in your in-unit dryer. The trash being emptied while you were at work. It gets so bad that you stop staying at home because it’s simply too creepy.

It’s the kind of fear that settles in the craggy parts of your brain. Seems silly if you think about it too hard the same way being scared of the dark in your closet after watching a horror movie does. Being scared of a potentially haunted apartment doesn’t really convey the severity of the situation when you try and talk about it with people.

You stay with friends. Couch surf as long as you can until you cannot possibly force people to take you in any longer. And when you’ve exhausted all other options, you find yourself texting Ghost for the first time in months.

Hey.

It’s hours before he responds. Not unusual. And instead of him texting back, you see a phone call block out the video you’re watching on your phone from a very well-lit spot in the living room. Also not unusual.

You pick up, but it takes you a few seconds to choke out words around the sudden lump in your throat.

“Forget how to answer the phone?”

He sounds irritated -again- not unusual.

It’s quiet where he is. Sounds like maybe he’s in a smaller space. His bedroom or his car? Though you couldn’t imagine him out at this hour of the night.

“Sorry. No. I- sorry.”

Shifting from his end. The static of fabric brushing past the microphone. A hefty sigh.

“Sorry.”

“You said.”

“Uh- I don’t really know how to ask you this, it’s- silly. I don’t know. Are you- um- busy?”

“S’half one in the morning.”

“It was a better time when I texted.”

It’s hard not to snark at him.

“No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“I mean no. I’m not busy.”

You’d love nothing more than to hang up on him, but you stayed up the entire two nights before because you couldn’t find anyone to come stay with you and you were getting desperate.

“Could you come over?”

[hysteria-things]

Ok so this is a fluff request based off the new podcast eher Matt got cramps and was in pain (sad Ik) so basically after the podcast Matt calls his girlfriend (the reader) and asks his gf to bring some medicine and when she gets there he takes it and he’s still hurting so they cuddle and she’s like “Ik pretty boy I’m sorry try to go to sleep” and pretty/sweet boy kink basically thanks!

BACK PAIN

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠:matt x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: there’s been this sharp pain in matt’s lower back during the podcast. however, you come to the rescue once they’re done recording.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: FLUFF, swearing, pain

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 661

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i did not mean for this to take so long anon but i hope you like it!

bottles of different varieties of medications stare back at you. you’re at the drug store, scanning the shelf to find some ibuprofen or something.

matt’s been texting you ever since they started recording the new cut the camera podcast video. he’s been saying that his lower back is killing him, and he asked you to pick up some painkillers.

you scan a bottle before officially making it your final choice along with a tube of icy hot just in case, and you walk to the self-checkout to pay for it.

before you head back to their house, you stop at mcdonald’s to pick up some food for him. it won’t help with the pain, but you’re sure it’ll make his mood better.

don’t worry, you didn’t forget about the other two. you got them fries.

it’s not a far drive back to the triplets. you park outside of their house, grab all of the belongings from your trip, and lock the car doors.

you make your way to the front door and open it, walking up the stairs into their living room/kitchen. nick and chris are there at the island, grinning once they see you. “hey, y/n.” chris greets, his eyes immediately shooting down to the mcdonald’s bag.

“hi, guys.” you take your shoes off and shuffle over to them. “don’t worry. i got you something, too.”

they gasp once you pull out the french fries, taking them from your hand. “thank you, future sister-in-law.” nick starts, nudging his head toward the hallway. “i hope you can fix him.”

you shrug. “that’s the plan.”

sighing, you walk down the hall and knock at matt’s door as you’re opening it slightly. “can i come in?”

“yeah,” he says, stepping inside and closing the door. you pout, seeing him practically curled up under the blankets. the only light in the room is the TV with spongebob portrayed on it.

you sit next to him on the bed, firstly unpacking the food. “i don’t know if you’re hungry, but i got you a ten-piece with a root beer.” you say, placing it on the nightstand.

then, you reach into the medicine bag. you open the ibuprofen and take two out, placing them on the plastic lid of the drink. “take those.” you turn your head to look at his face, and he’s already staring at you in awe.

he loves you so much.

five spongebob episodes later, you can tell he’s still jittery by the way he keeps shuffling beside you. he’s eaten a little, but not as much. “is the ibuprofen helping?”

“no.” he says annoyed. “it still hurts and i don’t fucking know why.”

“i know, i’m sorry, handsome. sit up,” you demand, and he’s hesitant before doing so.

he sighs. “i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to sound like that. i’m just annoyed that i don’t know what’s wrong.”

you smile softly, kissing his shoulder. “it’s okay. you probably pulled something.”

lifting his shirt, he groans when he raises his arms for you to take it off. he doesn’t question you, though.

you press down on the spot he told you that hurts, and his muscles tense at the suddenness. you can feel the knot.

“jesus, matt.” you move your thumbs over the spot. “you’re tight right here.”

you continue to rub with your palm and fingers, massaging the area to loosen it up a bit. his head falls, exhaling deeply and closing his eyes.

you take the icy hot and put some on your hand, rubbing it onto his back. “this should help.” you say, leaning him back so you can hold him. his head rests on your chest. “it’ll be like a heating pad and ease the pain.”

“thank you.” he whispers. “you should be a doctor.”

you laugh, kissing his head. “try to go to sleep, pretty boy. the stress won’t help with the pain, either.”

he hums, nuzzling more into you until you hear soft snores moments later.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢��𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @r4iyaa @sturniolotriplettoplover @mattybswife @freshsturns @loverrsposts @saturncanyon @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs

[theghoulboysblog]

Ryan Bergara is the hyperfixation representation we all need. He collected root-beer bottles to the point that he had a full shelf of them and kept them in his room, organized by favorite in front, so he could think about them every so often cause they made him happy. He gets so obsessed with things that he forgets to do anything else. He has an entire podcast where he infodumps about amusement parks. I love him. He’s so me I fear.

[theyaoishelf]

Hello! Our latest episode is LIVE! In this episode we discuss naming conventions in BL, talk about how these naming conventions have changed and why this matters within the fandom.

[zigrethsnotebook]

[PASSIONATE KISS]

Ford x Reader

words: 1,850

tags: sfw, angst, fluff

a/n: realized i never wrote a proposal story for Ford so here you go<3

Ford had been out on an expedition for three days. He’d told you it would be too dangerous for you to come along and even though you had strongly protested he would not budge. So now here you were, waiting for your boyfriend to return from his trip that he’d assured you would take no more than 24 hours.

“Either I find them immediately or I won’t find them at all.” Was what he had told you. But knowing this and that he considered the whole endeavor extremely dangerous had left you incredibly anxious. What if something happened to him? You’d never be able to find him in those woods.

Stan tried his best to reassure you, told you: “Hey, the guy’s been running around different dimensions for thirty years. Give him some credit. He won’t go down that easily.” It helped. But today you could hear in Stan’s voice that he was beginning to feel a little uncertain about it as well.

You couldn’t sleep that night. You were restless, turning from side to side and trying to shut your thoughts out with music and podcasts and anything you could turn the volume up enough to drown them out. The fears of Ford not coming back.

Eventually, you got up, walked aimlessly around the shack, stared out a window for an hour and then turned to head back to bed, giving sleep another shot. Except your feet didn’t walk you to your bed but instead downstairs into Ford’s lab.

As if you were guided by invisible strings you walked straight to Ford’s desk, sitting down on his chair and wrapping yourself in the lab coat he had thrown over the backrest of the chair. It smelled like him. You pulled it around you and up to your nose. This was the closest to him you’d felt since he left.

You pulled the chair closer to his desk and took his third journal out of its place on the shelf. Ford was carrying the fourth edition with him right now. You flipped through it, chuckling at all the entries the kids had left in it. Then you got the part where Ford got it back. Right around the time you two met.

Amongst his stories of different dimensions and discoveries about the world as it was now, thirty years after he had left it, there were sketches of your face scattered between. Always with little annotations about how gorgeous he thought you looked that day or something new he learned about you. Your favorite Ice-cream flavor, your least favorite beach boys song or whatever he had found the guts to ask you that day.

The memories brought tears to your eyes. What if all of that would now be forever in the past? What if he won’t ever be back?

You turned the page again and found a picture of you both dancing together at the kids’ fourteenth birthday party this year. Mabel had taken the photo and given it to Ford. Seeing you both so happy was too overwhelming. Some tears slipped from your eyes and onto his coat.

You flipped the page once more, not able to keep looking at that photo of you both. The next page had just one sentence that Ford had written. It was the last page of this journal.

To be continued in Journal 4… hopefully with wedding pictures ♡

Your breath hitched. What? No. This… You two had never spoken about marriage. In fact, when did he write this? You didn’t remember this being in here. Your thoughts raced a million miles an hour.

So much so, that you didn’t even hear Ford entering the Lab and walk up behind you. When he saw your hunched up trembling form and the page of the journal you were looking at he softly called out your name. You jumped in surprise and quickly turned around.

“Ford!” You called out, stood up and fell around his neck, hugging him tightly. “I was so worried for you, Ford.” You mumbled into his shoulder, but he understood, hugging you tighter as well. “I know, love. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for this to take so long.”

After a moment you pulled back slightly and placed your hands on either side of his face. With a stern face you told him: “Don’t you ever do that again, you hear me? 24 hours… you were gone for three whole days!” Ford chuckled sheepishly. “Four days, actually. It’s already past midday, love.” Flabbergasted, you stared at him. “That’s even worse!”

Only now did Ford look at you. Like, really look at you. And his face fell as he saw the state you were in. Heavy bags under your eyes, tear lines staining your cheeks that haven’t even dried. You were still in your pyjamas with just his dirty lab coat protecting you from the cold of the lab. And it wasn’t doing a particularly good job - you were shivering.

Guilt flooded Ford’s systems at the sight. He raised one of his hands from your waist to your cheek, wiping away the remaining tears with his thumb. You immediately leaned into his touch. “I am so very sorry, love. I shouldn’t have taken so long. I’m so sorry.” He whispered the last part as he leaned in, resting his forehead against yours.

You sighed. Just having him here with you again felt like a heavy weight was lifted off of your shoulders. In a much softer tone you told him: “Just don’t leave me like this again. If something takes longer than expected, find a way to let me know. I know you can.”

Snaking your arms back around his neck, you pulled his body closer to yours, your own seeking the warmth of his. “I felt so helpless. If something had happened to you, I-” Your voice broke off, unable to finish the sentence. “I know, love.”

After a few moments just enjoying being able to hold each other again, Ford let the hand from your cheek fall to his coat pocket, fumbling around in it. He chuckled, the noise sounding a little bittersweet, when he found what he was looking for. He pulled back from you slightly and looked into your eyes.

“I also know that this is probably the worst moment to bring this up, but: Do you know what I was looking for out there?” You shook your head ‘no’. This better not be about some creature right now. Now was not the time.

“Well, I only told you that the expedition would be dangerous, because I didn’t want you to come along and I knew that would be the only way to get you to stay home.” He smiled warmly at you, your stubbornness being something he loved so much about you.

“But it really wasn’t all that dangerous at all. Because, what I was really looking for was something that would complete… something. Something I’ve been meaning to give to you for a while now and… something I felt wasn’t worthy of being yours yet… It needed something special.”

You furrowed your brows at him, confusion taking over you. Ford softly let his hands wander to your arms, unwrapping them from himself as he continued. “And… I was looking for this something in that spaceship that sits under the town and also in the cave systems beneath the mountain. Well, two somethings really.” You felt him drift off into some sort of story as you saw his eyes start darting around the room.

“Ford. What are you talking about?” His eyes landed back on you. “Right.” He cleared his throat, trying not to freak out. His hand wandered back into his coat pocket and as soon as he found this mysterious object, he got down on one knee.

Your eyes widened in shock and you gasped. Ford didn’t know this, but with him returning you had completely forgotten about the last page of his journal.

He pulled a little black box out of his pocket and held it in front of him. “Right. I went to the spaceship to find the rarest metal in the solar system. Then I went to the cave systems to find the shiniest crystal on the planet. With those I went to visit Fiddleford, who graciously helped me weld the metal into a shape that could hold the crystal.”

Ford took a deep breath and opened the box revealing a marvelous silver ring, welded into intricate patterns that surely held some sort of meaning, holding a deep blue crystal that looked like it reflected the universe itself. You gasped again and let your hands cover your open mouth as you continued to stare at the man in disbelief.

“I couldn’t let you come along because I wanted this to be a surprise for you. I… You deserve the universe and all the good within it and I am more than willing to give it to you. So here I am. Asking you,” then he said your full legal name. “Will you please marry me?”

By now there were new tears running down your cheeks, but this time they were tears of joy and happiness. You nodded your head as you sobbed out a “Yes! Of course, I’ll marry you, Ford!” and fell into his arms again. Ford hugged you tightly, all the worries that had plagued him for taking so long washing away in an instant.

You pulled away again slightly, giving Ford the opportunity to slide the ring onto your finger. It fit perfectly, like it was made to be there. That’s because it was.

Ford held the hand that wore the ring in both of his, cradling it like it was made of glass. He looked at it with so much love and affection that you felt your own heart swell with love as well. When he looked up at you again, you leaned in for a kiss.

Your first kiss in four days and also your first kiss as an engaged couple. You basically devoured the man. Ford wasn’t any better. Both of you took this kiss and put all the emotions of the past four days into it. All the stress and worries. All the hope and love.

Ford was first to turn his head slightly and deepen the kiss, one of his hands wandering to the back of your neck, holding you close. Not that you wanted to leave. You parted your lips slightly and nibbled on his lower lip. This caused Ford to moan softly and his tongue to leave the confines of his own mouth and instead explore yours.

While this was happening you both moved your bodies so that Ford and you fully sat on your legs. You didn’t sit on his lap like this because you knew his legs would fall asleep immediately. It had happened before.

After a while you broke the kiss, panting slightly. Ford let his forehead rest against yours again. “I don’t think I’ll leave you again any time soon.” You chuckled. “Yeah. You better not.”

[jinks050]

Arthur Lester every season

(Psst, check out the non meme edit of this art here along with other great Malevolent art stuff.

(Also, check out the Malevolent podcast, if you love ride or die buddy noir lovecraftian horror. It’s top shelf!)

[insomniac4000]

Dad!George- George Clarkey

1933 Words

You had no idea why you were nervous to tell George you were pregnant, you knew he wasn’t going to get angry or run away. Starting a family was something you two had talked about starting a family a couple of times bit it was a in a year or two dream but obviously mother nature had other ideas. The second you showed him the test which had the words pregnant, 2-3 weeks on it father mode was well and truly activated.

“Are you serious?” He smiled, tears pricking his eyes as he held the bit of plastic so delicately afraid it, along with his dreams would shatter at any moment.

“It says it all there,” you responded your voice shaky, it was going to be a big change but with George by your side you were sure the pair of you could face it. You giggled as George swept you up in your arms lifting you in the air.

“I’M GOING TO BE A DAD!! “ He shouted before putting your down, suddenly his face crumpled and you looked on it him confused.

“Wait a sec, eww you’ve pissed on this!” George cried handing the stick back to you, you shook her head but gave a laugh.

“Things are about to get a whole load more disgusting babe,” you told him admiring the test one more time before putting it in your bedside drawer for safe keeping.

Your pregnancy was okay, nothing too out of the ordinary the usual fatigue and morning sickness at the beginning, George held your hair back, bought the only food you could stomach and threw away the foods that made you ill. He held you as you napped, picked up a lot of the housework and cooking when you were too tired to do so. He rearranged shoots to go to every scan and every doctor’s appointment even though you told him it wasn’t necessary. As your baby and therefore belly grew George couldn’t take his hands off you, waiting for that special moment he could feel the baby kick.

He wasn’t one for gender reveals and neither were you so you both just decided to find out privately during your scan and told people as they asked. The minute the technician told him that you were having a girl George swore he could feel his heart grow, a girl, HIS girl, his little girl that he would love, protect and cherish forever.

He read every baby name, every pregnancy, birth and baby book, swore a ton as he put together the furniture for the nursery, not understanding why you needed the special comfy rocking chair in there but he did it because you wanted it and boy when the baby came was he glad of the comfort from it at three in the morning.

Speaking of the baby coming, George often joked with his friends, on tiktok or on his podcast that you would go into labour somewhere funny it would become big thing and it ended up being right.

“No not the yellow ones they make me nauseous the red ones please,” you told him as your scratched your belly. You were close to the end and starting to feel sick again but this time it was because all of your organs were squished up and you had little room for food, and a very small squished bladder.

“Eurgh I think I need to wee again, does this shop have a bathroom?” You asked looking behind you. The pair of you were food shopping for what you hoped would be the last time, your due date was actually the previous day so you hadn’t planned beyond that. The freezer was full of meals you had prepped but you wanted to keep those for when the baby was born, so here you were buying another weeks shopping hoping it would all be over soon.

“By the front I think,” George replied monotonously placing the red peppers in the trolley, you took one step forward bit stopped abruptly when you felt a POP and soon enough you felt water trickling down your legs.

“GEORGE!” You said panicking holding onto your belly, you hadn’t felt any contractions so it couldn’t be your waters, but it felt too much to be anything else.

“What? Oh someone spilt something? It’s fine just wipe your feet in the toilet,” George replied looking back at the shelf and picking up the bag of spinach.

“Yes George, I spilt something, it came out of me,” you replied before exhaling as you grabbed your belly, finally feeling a small bit of pain.

“Didn’t make it to the bathroom in time?” George looked and burst out laughing until he saw your discomfort and another small cup of liquid came down your leg.

“Not quite,” you managed to reply and George’s eyes widened.

“Holy fucking shit is it happening?” Now he started to panic briefly but he very quickly calmed himself down, he needed to be calm, he needed to be there for you.

“I think so,” you replied, your hands now shaking.

“Okay where’s your phone? Let’s get out of here and ring the hospital. Your bags in the car right?” George asked already knowing the answer, it had been sitting in the boot for two weeks. He held his hand out and you grabbed it gently waddling down the aisle holding your belly like the baby was about to come out any second although you knew it was impossible.

“OLIVER COME HERE!” An angry voice called out, the pair of you looked behind you just in time to see a boy about four running down the aisle, slipping over the puddle you had just made. Your fiancé couldn’t help but burst into laughter as you gently elbowed him getting him to stop.

“We should probably tell a staff member about that,” George sniggered above the wailing.

When you got to the hospital the labour was long, fourteen hours and forty seven minutes to be exact, but George was there every step of the way, holding your hand, mopping your brow, giving you words of encouragement and passing you water when you asked for it. Eventually your daughter, Evelyn Heather Clarke made her way into the world and of course George was there to cut the cord.

“Shh, I’ve got her go back to sleep,” George whispered to you when the little cry you could only describe as a mini velociraptor came from the bassinette next to your bed.

“Unless you can start producing milk from your tits George you should probably hand her to me,” you replied with a yawn. The nights were sleepless and long for both of you as George insisted on waking up too even if he couldn’t feed there were things he could do like burp and settle Evie afterwards and make sure you were fed and hydrated. He did feel a little sad and left out those early weeks and months as breastfeeding meant you took on a lot of the childcare and he wanted the day that Evie reached out to him needing comfort in the same way she did to you but it didn’t take long.

“Who’s the most precious girl in the world?” George smiled to the now five month old babe who giggled in delight at her daddy. George didn’t know it was possible but every day he woke up and saw that smile he fell in love with Evie even more. The pink clad girl giggled again as her dad lifted her out of her car seat and embraced her, before walking into the flat. It was a daddy daughter play date day with Chris and his daughter and although Astrid Dixon was older by a year she was absolutely obsessed with her “cousin.”

“IYA!” A small high pitched voice welcomed George and Evie into the flat, “BABY!” Astrid squealed again with excitement, shoving the donkey stuffed toy she was holding into Evie’s face. George didn’t want to wish Evie’s life away but he couldn’t wait until she started, walking and talking, he was always trying very hard to make sure her first word was dad, and it absolutely was. George couldn’t stop gloating for weeks after that.

When Evie was almost three, his little lad came along, Rueben Gray. Now while Evie was a smiley, no fuss child Rueben was an absolute ball of chaos and George wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Stop worrying, it’ll be fine,” George tried to soothe you as you stood there head in hand, suitcases were lying on your bed. You were off on a family holiday to Disneyland Paris, George wanted to go to Florida but you insisted on doing Paris first as the kids were still young and to do a trial to see if you could cope before doing a longer journey, especially with a three year old and a five year old. The other reason you were nervous was because you were late, you had the tests in the bathroom ready to take and were going to surprise him while on holiday.

“It’s just not knowing how they’re going to handle the flight, especially Reuben he’s a fidget at the best of times,” you sighed.

“I will keep him occupied the whole time, don’t worry.” He kissed you gently on the temple before placing the cases on the floor so the pair of you could get into bed.

“Now, take the tests I saw in the bathroom and tell me if our family is complete,”

“Wait.. what.. how?”

“I saw them! Looked on the calendar and put two and two together, please don’t tell me I’ve made five?” George asked his eyes so full of cope. He wanted another child for a while, but since Reuben was energetic you wanted to wait until Evie was in school so things would be slightly easier.

“Yes, don’t get too excited just in case I’m just late.”

“You’re not. I have a great feeling about this, come on what are we waiting for!” George giddily ran to the bathroom and you couldn’t help but laugh now realising where your kids got it from.

The test was positive, the family was completed by another girl, Ophelia Grace.

“Right kids, breakfast is ready,” George shouted and waited for all the pitter patter of feet to come into the kitchen which they eventually did. Reuben was holding Ophelia’s hand, George carefully lifted the eighteen months old toddler into her highchair while making sure now four year old Reuben could get into his chair and keeping the other eye on now six year old Evie. George started pouring the juice and on hearing the click clack of your shoes in the kitchen he handed you your coffee thermos. This has been your routine since you returned to work part time six months ago and George had the routine nailed down to a tee. It worked well for the two of you, he looked after the kids when you worked for three days a week and the other four days he split between filming and having family time.

Be good for daddy, Evie have a good day at school darling, see you all later,” you announced kissing everyone in turn before making your way to work.

George set about his tasks effortlessly, it was like he was born to be a dad, of course he wasn’t and learned along the way but he really was the best. How was it fair that he was better looking one and the better parent?

I'm not really happy with but eh what are you going to do, it'll be up for now