#AVAILABLE ON SEVERAL PLATFORMS

[madeinchinataiwanhk-blbambeyond]

MADE IN TAIWAN

Series: The On1y One

BENJAMIN TSANG

LIU DONG QIN

[floramuniverse]

Bring a burst of holiday joy to your celebrations with our Cute Santa and Snowflakes Theme - Christmas Party Invitation Card! Sized perfectly at 5x7 inches, this card is designed to make your festive season even more magical and memorable. Imagine a delightful scene where a jolly Santa and twinkling snowflakes come together, setting the perfect tone for your holiday gathering.

Whether you're hosting a cozy family get-together, a fun friends' Christmas party, or a cheerful office event, this invitation adds a special touch to your seasonal greetings. The design is charmingly whimsical, with Santa spreading joy and snowflakes adding a frosty sparkle, creating a winter wonderland on each card. 🎄✨

Plus, it's editable and printable, making it easy for you to customize with all your party details. You can print it right at home or at your favorite local print shop, ensuring convenience and saving you time during this busy season. This invitation card combines style and ease, making it the cutest way to invite your guests to a memorable Christmas party!

[moodr1ng]

itd be so cool to be able to monetize worldbuilding but i think unless you have a very specific industry job in something like roleplaying game development or something thats not rly a thing.. but if i could i would definitely spend years creating a wholly detailed fantasy world with maps, climates, countries, governments, cities, religions, magic systems, political, philosophical and artistic movements, conlangs, trade routes, flora and fauna, etc etc etc and then essentially make it available to purchase as a premade setting to use for writers or artists. unfortunately this isnt a thing afaik and i couldnt justify spending the time to do it just to TRY (and fail) to make that a thing lol

[bamsara]

Small reminder that you should really download your favorite fics off of AO3. We are seeing mass censorships well as the chance that anything, such as another severe DDoS attack can shut down the site making works unaccessible and possibly lost for good.

If you do not know how to download fics, it is a simple 2-button click. I've written a tutorial here.

You think your stuff is safe until it's suddenly not, and then often times it's too late.

This post starts with AO3, (because it seems to be the common denominator across all users on this website /joking) but I recommend extending preservation efforts to anything online if you can manage to download it.

I'm not saying panic and start buying tons of storage devices to hold immense amounts of stuff. A cheap usb can hold plenty of things. You don't have to stop using services still available if it's more convenient to read books on your phone than to fill your backpack with 7 of them.

But you should still get (either buying or creating) physical versions because nothing is guarantee that it will remain forever. From shows being pulled from streaming services, to banned books, to losing access to digital copies of media because the service doesn't support it anymore, the account is lost, or the company goes under. This goes for messaging platforms as well. Your role-plays with your friends on discord can be lost forever, your photos can too.

This doesn't even include media most vulnerable to censorship and how quickly it can be removed, and quietly.

You think it will not happen to you, it will. Do not wait for unforeseen circumstances. Go back up and preserve what you can, your future self will be happy that you did.

[intersex-support]

Help an intersex family in Gaza!

Hi everyone. I'd like to share about a fundraiser that is very important to me. A good friend of mine is in contact with the organizers.

(Described in alt).

Their story:

"Hello, my name is Abeer. I'm organizing this fundraising campaign from Belgium on behalf of my family, who currently live in Gaza. 

Since October 7, all families in Gaza have been subjected to genocide. My family is one of those families that has had to flee its own home several times because of the threat of regular attacks. 

After two months, my family decided to return home and take the risk of being bombed at any moment rather than stay in the street. Our 4-floor building now contains over 100 people who have fled from different parts of Gaza. We always open our hearts for our own people, but we can't do it without your help and support. 

My parents, Kamal (53) and Moukaram (51), are suffering from the war because of their age and health. My brother Suliman, his wife Rawan Abualnaja and their two-year-old daughter Bisan are trying to stay strong, but it's complicated by their little daughter's enormous needs. My other siblings who are not married are Mohammed 25, Inas 22, Ibrahim 17, Abdallah 15.

My family medical condition during the war:

My father suffers from delusional disorders. He can't work or help my family financially. Mohammed and Ibrahim suffer from a chronic disease, congenital adrenal hyperplasia. It is difficult for them to obtain medication in Gaza. One of their medicines has not been available in Gaza for two years. During the war, they couldn't get their medicines because they simply didn't exist anymore. My family members are still suffering. They don't want to be potential victims. They want to escape death and live like other families on the planet.

 On 01/01/2024, they attacked the local mosque and the missile failed to explode and ended up in front of my family's house. My family is in danger and the missile will explode any second.

Since then, my family has decided to be evacuated from Gaza because of the senseless attack on our city. Please help me evacuate my family to Egypt so that they can rebuild their lives in peace.

I've been in Belgium for over five years. I feel useless because I haven't been able to do much except try to help them with their daily living expenses. That's why we created this campaign. We're raising funds to evacuate my family to Egypt, a place that offers a glimmer of hope and stability. However, the cost of the evacuation is high, hence our call for crowdfunding.

Every contribution makes a difference The funds we raise will be used for :

- Evacuation from Gaza for both families (Rafah border crossing fees for 9 people total)  - Two months of temporary living expenses in Egypt, including food, shelter, and transportation  - Passport fees  - Food expences untill they leave Gaza 

No matter how small your contribution, it can make all the difference in breaking the cycle of violence and uncertainty. By supporting our campaign, you are offering a lifeline to our families so that they can rebuild their lives, heal from their trauma and make a fresh start in a safe and secure environment. Please leave a comment and share our campaign with your friends, so we can reach more people and make a bigger impact. Together, we can make a difference!"

They are using a French platform called Papayoux Solidarite instead of GoFundMe. Abeer also has a Paypal account for non European donors.

They are currently at 33 588,78 €/ 50,000 €.

Let's see if we can get them to 34,000 today. Any donation matters, even $1 or $2 donations can add up.

We need to help them meet their goal. Intersex liberation means intersex liberation everywhere--it is so important that we show up in solidarity. Those of us living with CAH know how dangerous salt wasting crises are without medication, and how important it is to urgently help Mohammed and Ibrahim get access to the medications they need to support their CAH. Intersex solidarity means that we need to show up and support intersex people facing genocide.

If you can't donate, please share. Consider doing an art raffle to raise money. Do whatever you can to help this family because it is urgent, and we need to act in solidarity with them now and make sure that the intersex community is here to support them!

[jimcorbettnational]

Jim Corbett National Park Booking

Jim Corbett National Park Uttarakhand is an Indian wildlife reserve that is known for its diverse flora and fauna. Here are the steps you can take to book a visit to Jim Corbett National Park:

You can book a trip to Jim Corbett National Park Uttarakhand online or through a booking agent authorized by the park.

You can book a safari or accommodation through the website. There are several safari options available, such as Jeep Safari, Canter Safari, and Elephant Safari. Choose the one that suits your preferences.

Choose the type of accommodation. Jim Corbett National Park Uttarakhand offers various options, ranging from government-owned forest rest houses to luxury resorts. Choose according to your budget and preferences.

Make the necessary payment to confirm your booking. Different booking platforms may offer various payment methods, such as credit cards, debit cards, net banking, or cash on arrival. Remember to plan your visit well in advance, as the park receives a large number of visitors, especially during peak seasons. Additionally, it is advisable to read and understand the rules and regulations of the national park to ensure a safe and enjoyable experience.

[thekoalapastriesbakery]

LOSS OF MY LIFE

formula one x horror actor!reader

request: I'm hoping this is thw right way to ask for requests but we live and learn ig. Anyway what about how the drivers would react to reader being in some sort of horror film and they end up dying?

summary: your boyfriend reacts to your death in a movie.

warnings: mild descriptions of death and gore, swearing, i think that's it?

contains: charles leclerc, gabriel bortoleto, + ollie bearman

word count: 552

charles leclerc:

he had been so incredibly excited to see your movie. you had warned him several dozen times that it was a horror movie and not a tame one. he didn't listen, of course, and decided it was a better idea to watch it when he was alone. at night. in a hotel room he was not familiar with.

… needless to say, you weren't exactly surprised when you woke up to your phone ringing. even less surprising was hearing charles sniffling and begging you to get a flight out because he's just seen you die a very gruesome death in the movie and now he desperately needs cuddles. he's definitely got a collection of stuffed animals he uses when he needs comfort but you're not available, and his favourite is a floppy bunny. charles is holding onto that bunny like his life depends on it after watching your movie.

you end up having to call one of the other drivers and ask them to keep him company until you get there. when you do, expect to be within arm's reach of your boyfriend at all times.

gabriel bortoleto:

he's actually kind of offended that the writers had the audacity to kill you off. the second he realizes what's about to happen he'll start angrily ranting about "how dare they!!" and all that.

then he sees you covered in the (fake) blood and you're so clearly pissed off even though you're dying and he just … slowly … trails off … until he's just staring at the screen. he doesn't even respond when you poke his arm to see if he's okay. all that's going through his head is holy fuck you look hot when you're angry and covered in blood—

it takes you a little while to realise what's actually going on, and you gotta just kinda keep poking and teasing him until he breaks out of it. let's just say if you wanna go all out for halloween there … gabi's definitely on board.

ollie bearman:

i actually think he really likes horror movies even though they give him nightmares? ollie loves them and finds them so interesting and even though he's so tense the whole time he just … he loves them! so when he finds out that you're gonna be in a horror movie?

he is so excited.

ollie makes a whole night of it. he'll order food from your favourite restaurant, set up a lil blanket fort for the two of you, make sure you know that he'll be extra jumpy that night, and then get your movie set up on his laptop. he can't watch horror movies on big screen because the detail makes it too scary for him. so you'll just have to get used to watching things on a laptop screen, sorry.

finally he gets to cuddle up to you and he's so excited to watch your movie!! he gets most of the way through before your character gets killed off and ollie … he just shuts his computer immediately.

the whole rest of the night is just spent assuring your boyfriend that you're fine, you're not upset about your character's ending, and also that yes, all of the actual horror bits in the movie were fake. then—and only then—will he start talking about the actual quality of the movie and praising your acting.

©thekoalapastriesbakery :: please do not copy or rewrite my work on any platform !!

author's note: please note that i am a wimp who can't watch horror for the life of me 😅

comments + reblogs appreciated!

taglist: @raizelchrysanderoctavius @crispysoup318 @op-81-lvr-reblogs @ncrsbrg @spoonfulofmilo @justaf1girl @widow-cevans

[heavyhand61]

I have prepared my dream (and probably unrealistic) time line for a feedee

Starting at the day then move in

First 6 months

All prior commitments will be cancelled (work, schooling, ect)

All social medial accounts that don't revolve around feedisum will be blanked out

There will be a push to sign you up for every available feedist community (more extreme the better

Daily calorie intake will sit around the 4000cal mark

Next 6 months

Contact with anyone not completely in support of your goal of immobility will be broken

You will have regular posts about your gains on any and all available feedist platforms

Any content that does not revolve around obesity and weight gain will be banned

An expected gain of 40-60lbs a year

First year

Trips from the house will be limited

Decreasing step limits will be applied

Most media will be replaced with feedist porn

10000cal minimum per day

1 funnel feeding per day

Increase rate of post of feedist content

Second year

Leaving the house will be disallowed

Trips from bed or couche will be severely limited

15000+ cal minimum per day

3 funnel feeding per day

Clothes will be disallowed

Only consumable content will be extreme feedist porn

Any communication on social media will be limited to extreme feeders and other pro death feedist feedees

Expected 100+ lbs per year gain

Third year

Any movement beyond 3 steps must be done by scooter or wheelchair

Minimum 4h of viewing extreme feedist porn per day

25000cal+ per day

Tube feeding is standard aside from the occasional food "treat"

Must spend 4+ hours a day tube feeding

Forth year

Involuntary immobility, you will be confined to bed regardless of current mobility status

35000+ Cal per day minimum, to be consumed primarily as fats and sugars cut with only a minimum of nutrition supplement

Every hour from wakeup to sleep will involve tube feeding and a constant stream of the most extreme feedist porn

Sleep will be deferred if calorie goal has not been met

Fifth year

24/7 live stream of you're immobile fourm

50000 cal minimum

All windows blocked, all clocks removed, no indicators of date or time

Feeding tube lives in your mouth

Diet is mostly fats

Sixth plus years (don't expect to survive this long)

No contact with outside world, other feedist included

24/7 feedist hypno playing for you

Feeding tube size increased and feed slop made even less healthy and even more fattening

Start of year calorie goal of 100000+ an additional 1000 a week to be added to the minimum every week for the rest of your life

Six years and I plan on taking you from a normal healthy person to the perfect feedee, no thought, no life, just growing, growing GROWING, all that matters is growing all that matters is more all that matters is your life cut short by obesity

[monzabee]

a simple favor - s. reid

criminal minds masterlist ||

Summary: spencer has a rather interesting proposal for your monthly problem. 

Pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

Word Count: 0.4k 

Warnings: suggestive comments, talks of pregnancy and hysterectomies (talk about duality), kissing, periods  

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

You didn’t really complain much. Not really, unless there was actually something worth complaining about.  

But this? This called for some serious complaining.  

Spencer had his doubts about leaving you alone when you forced him out of the apartment earlier that morning. He’d hovered near the door, rattling off statistics about dehydration and iron loss until you’d practically shoved him out with the promise that you’d survive a few hours on your own. 

Now, you find yourself seriously reconsidering that decision. Curled up on the couch, a heating pad pressed against your stomach, you let out another dramatic groan. If sheer misery could be turned into an Olympic sport, you are confident you’d take gold. 

When the front door finally creaks open, you barely muster the energy to lift your head. Instead, you let out a pathetic whimper and mumble, “Please tell me you bought some pain killers.” 

Spencer doesn’t even bother setting his bag down before he’s at your side, eyes scanning you like he’s running a full diagnostic. “Are you sure you don’t need to see a doctor? It’s estimated that around twenty percent of people with periods experience severe menstrual pain, and in some cases—” 

You groan, cutting him off. “It hurts so bad, I’m seriously considering a hysterectomy at this point.” 

He pauses, tilting his head like he’s genuinely considering your words. And then, in the most nonchalant tone imaginable, he says, “I can get you pregnant. That should give you like nine months of relief.” 

Your eyes snap open. “Spencer.” 

He shrugs, completely unbothered. “It’s a scientifically sound solution.” 

You gape at him, torn between horror and amusement. “You did not just suggest pregnancy as a cure for my period.” 

“I mean, technically, it’s not not a cure.” His lips twitch like he’s trying to hold back a smirk. 

With the last ounce of strength you can summon, you swat weakly at his arm. “You’re lucky I’m too weak to fight you right now.” 

Instead of retreating, he sits down beside you, letting you shift until your head rests in his lap. His fingers thread through your hair absentmindedly soothing you without probably doesn’t even realize he’s doing. 

“You’re impossible,” you mutter, eyes slipping shut. 

“And I love you.” His voice is warm, teasing, and when he leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips, you sigh in something dangerously close to contentment. 

“Next time, just bring me chocolate and shut up,” you grumble. 

“Noted,” he chuckles, but you can still hear the smirk in his voice. 

[fantastic-nonsense]

I think I'm so mad about Red Hood because it IS a really interesting plot for Jason, the concept of a Jason+Helena team-up is super interesting, and the writer is both a woman and by all accounts a very good writer. So to see Helena being treated like this and Jason seemingly undergoing his nth character regression cycle given the book's theoretical potential is doubly upsetting where it otherwise would have just been another line in the "Jason in a bad book? Must be Wednesday" category.

The book is explicitly being billed as a 17+ "gritty, bloody, sexy, and stripped down" Red Hood ongoing. The editor, Arianna Turturro, said that Jason will "be killing people—a lot" in it. I already disagree with that approach because it is a useless step backwards from where we have been with Jason since "Cheer" in 2021, when he said he would no longer kill people and gave up his guns. You can do an interesting story about Jason returning to killing, obviously, but this is...not it. I'm not pleased about everything Martinbrough tried to establish in The Hill getting thrown away, either. That said, I'm willing to reserve judgement on the book re: Jason because the rest of the book's plot from Jason's end sounds interesting.

But...Helena. I've been begging for more Helena content, and the concept of a Jason-Helena team-up is super interesting! Helena was the OG black sheep! She filled Jason's niche for 15 years before Jason was resurrected, and having them interact so Jason can further deconstruct his philosophy that "killing criminals is worth it" with someone who has actually gotten revenge on the men who killed her family and childhood is a fascinating concept!

Unfortunately this book isn't interested in that; instead it's seemingly more concerned with the spectacle of letting Jason be a discount Punisher (again) and shoving Helena into being an accessory and romantic interest in Jason's story. This is not just me speculating based on the clickbait variant covers btw; multiple members of the creative team have confirmed that's what they're doing with Jason and Helena:

"Is it steamy in a good way?" "Everything's steamy in a good way if you look hard enough." -Becca Carey, the book's letterer

And from the official book announcement:

"Every element of the book highlights the core aspects of Jason’s character—his difficulties with personal connections, his badass training, his brooding hotness, and his violent approach to heroism. Which means he’ll be killing people—a lot. Let me repeat myself: this is the story Jason Todd fans have been waiting for.” ......... Red Hood #1 arrives in comic shops and digital platforms on September 10, 2025, and will be available to preorder and add to pull lists beginning Friday, June 20. Get ready for an angsty, sexy, and violent new chapter in Jason Todd’s legend.

Not to mention this quote (also from the announcement):

“Jason isn’t a regular antihero who coldly does things their own way and feels nothing,” continued Turturro. "He is an exposed nerve, a beating heart with no protection, a man lashing out at both his world and himself for the violence he has survived. Helena deeply understands where Jason has come from. They're two severely broken people who can't help but hurt themselves and others… and together they might just end up bringing out each other’s worst instincts."

This quote is all well and good from Jason's perspective, though again somewhat outdated as of "Cheer"; I've said as much before about him, after all. But this does not describe Helena Bertinelli. Helena is a schoolteacher. She is someone who's haunted by violence but refuses to continue to let it define her after her initial revenge/return to Gotham arc. That's the whole point of Helena: she is someone who got revenge on the people who hurt her, found it did not fill the chasm inside of her, and learned to live with that by helping and teaching others. And with all of the Christian iconography being dropped from her costume (which is also ugly as sin compared to her Infinite Frontier-era one), we've got yet another red flag that the creative team doesn't understand or care who Helena is outside of "the other violent black sheep of the Batfam."

Also...yes, Helena is more violent and a lot more morally flexible than the other Bats. But while she's generally portrayed as someone who is willing to kill, she's only actually killed four people in her entire 37 year history as a character and all but one were directly connected to her family's deaths: two of the deaths were the same incident and one of her first acts of vigilantism (Mandragora and his bodyguard), one wasn't even a direct kill—and in fact she outright stated she wasn't going to be the one to kill him (Santo Cassamento), and one occurred while she was a completely different character and unrecognizable as Helena Bertinelli (Mr. Minos), so I think we can count that one as an aberration and move on.

She didn't even kill Omerta, the man who actually showed up to her house and killed her parents; originally Mandragora killed him, and in Huntress: Year One Helena just cut out his tongue and took her cross necklace back. Helena doesn't like killing and she doesn't want to kill; she was raised in a very particular dysfunctional family system and believed that belonging to that family required certain things of her ("blood cries for blood"). She even outright said it:

"...I only kill for money." "I only kill for closure." -Huntress: Year One (2008) #6

Maybe the writer will work with that. Maybe she won't. But ultimately the signs are not looking good at all for this book as it relates to Helena as a character and I'm incredibly disappointed so far in everything I've seen related to the book that isn't the base-level plot.

[osachiyo]

MEN WHO WOULD ! go drunk from the taste of your pussy. He'd be soooo reluctant to go down on you at first because apparently "it would make him look pathetic if his friends knew". But once he actually gets between your plush thighs, staring at the sticky material of your lacy panties dampening with each nip on the soft flesh, it's like he does a completely 180. His tongue would be licking you through the soaked material of your panties, just savouring your flavour before actually diving in. He'd slowly take it off, slipping them in his pockets for 'later use' , he tells you. But you can't focus on anything he's saying right now, you're just so fucking needy. So you cut him off mid sentence, yanking him down by his hair, shoving your cunt in his handsome face. His eyes widen from the sudden act, grabbing your soft thighs for stability as he finally indulges you, properly. He'd slowly lick a fat stripe up your juicy cunt, making you tighten your grip on his soft locks as he whines lowly, tightening his grip on your thighs. "God, fuck you taste good..mmh-" He knows he shouldn't talk with his mouth full but damn, he was gonna get addicted at this point.

It's been several fucking hours since he's been eating you out. It also wasn't helping how you were getting more and more sensitive with each toe curling orgasm from his greedy mouth on your pussy. He was fucking high off of it, his eyes rolling back from the taste. "Pleasepleasepleaseplease- 'can't handle it no more- 's too much!" You sobbed, trying to thrash around and kick your legs but to no avail, his grip was tight. His other hand came up to your lower tummy, pressing on the soft flesh to pin you down as he had his meal. You shouldn't be interrupting him, y'know? "Just one more, honey..take it for me, okay? I know you can, you're such a good fuckin' girl for me, aren't you?" Just one more. He's been saying that for the last thirty minutes. God, he was such a bad liar, but you believed him every time.

GOJO, choso, ITADORI, yuuta, SCARAMOUCHE, childe, heizou, LEVI, mammon, mephistopheles, BAJI, rindou, mushitaro & ur faves.

©sachiyoh— do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, reblogs are very appreciated♡

[engineering]

Tumblr Hack Week, January 2024 Edition

Once again it was Hack Week (more than just a day!) at Tumblr! This is getting repetitive in the best way. A couple of times per year we slow down our normal work and spend a week working on scratching a personal itch or features we want as user and see how far we can get with our hacks. One thing from the last Hack Week in September made it all the way to a new experiment out to some testers: Tumblr Patio!

Here are some of the projects that got built for our most recent Hack Week in January. Some of these things you may also end up seeing on the site…

Spoiler text, spoiler blocks, and centered text!

This one is so obvious and amazing, it’s wild we don’t already have it. For Hack Week, Katie added the ability to select text in a paragraph to be hidden behind a wall of black that can be revealed with a tap. This can be super useful to hide spoilers. And even better: whole spoiler blocks. And while we’re here, the ability to center text!

A plethora of new default blog avatars

We haven’t updated our default avatars in several years. (Some of you may remember this one from 10+ years ago.) They’re feeling a bit stale to us, so why not update them? And while we’re at it… make a ton more variations! Paul from the Tumblr Design team came up with a suite of new default avatars, using our latest Tumblr color palette. Here’s a look at some of them, but there are actually many dozens more using different colors:

Notifications and emails about engagement on your posts

This one is for the folks on Tumblr who love numbers and their Activity page. Daniel, @jesseatblr​, and the Feeds & Machine Learning team worked on some new notifications and emails we could send out to people about how their posts have been doing lately on the platform, such as how many views they’ve gotten, and by how many people. We already have this available (and more) when you Blaze a post, but why not open it up to more people? It’s really useful to the folks who use Tumblr to help build an audience for their work!

A new way of navigating the web: the Command Palette

Some apps we use a lot have a “command palette” accessible via a keyboard shortcut for quick keyboard-driven access to different parts of the platform. For example, Slack and Discord have Command + K to access their quick switchers to hop around conversations. What if Tumblr had one? Kelly and Paul built one! Press Command/Control + K on Tumblr and you can use your keyboard to jump to your blog, Activity, your recent conversations, search, dozens of places!

As always, stay tuned to the @changes​ blog to see if any of these hacks make it on Tumblr for real!

[thebibliosphere]

Okay, I'll admit it. I'm one of those people who priates books. But only because I've bought so many books that disappointed me! I need to flip through a bit of it before buying.

Sometimes, if the author has kofi or patreon or something, I like to just give them the full price of the book. That way they get it all. But I also know that this isn't the perfect answer because it messes with stats and actual readership and therefore advertising and the platform they are selling on promoting it....

It's complicated. Maybe I should buy the book normally and tip the author what the publishers/printers/distributors take? But that can get really pricey fast. Ugh.

Books are often a luxury when you have no money. I’m very familiar with that. I've saved up for several months sometimes because I wanted a $5.99 ebook and didn't want to steal from the author. That’s just what being poor is. Wanting something doesn't entitle me to it.

That said, most books these days have a reading sample on purchasing sites so you can see if you like the style. Most sites also offer refunds, at least on digital books, before you reach a certain point. (please be sparing with refunds if you can. The refund is taken from the author/publisher, not Amazon. Same with audible. My audible funds are often close to zero or negative because people just return and reuse their monthly credit.)

You can also check and see if the books are available at your library, and if not, request them. Honestly, library sales are so, so, so good for authors. Libraries pay higher lending license rates to authors, and also, depending on the country, every time someone checks out my book via Libby or the local equivalent, I get a little tiny amount of money (we’re talking literal pennies, but it can add up), and it increases the library’s likelihood of re-purchasing the library lending license the following year.

You can alsp sign up to be an ARC (advanced reader copy) reader through places like NetGalley or by checking if the author offers ARCs as well. In a world of algorithms, books live and die by reviews. Some of us are quite happy to give out ARCs for new and upcoming titles.

Failing that and you have absolutely no other option... Yeah. Ko-fi or whatever is an option. Even if I wish they didn't do it because it fucks my sales metrics, I still appreciate when I get a little ding on ko-fi for the exact amount of the book. It's always telling. I even sometimes get little anon messages going “sorry for pirating your book it was really good.”

Like thank you. Please buy the next one properly, lol.

[mapileonxputellas]

Private (Kelly Smith x Reader)

Where you and Kelly are in a private not secret relationship.....

Arsenal was your club. It was your life.

Your earliest memory was going to Highbury as a child every weekend, a signed photo of your favourite player at the time sat about your bed, changing every season as your mind flittered between players. At the age of eight you had to beg your mum and dad to redecorate your room from the baby pink princess wonderland to a bright red Arsenal inspired mural. You were a goner through and through.

All you wanted to do was play for Arsenal, in front of thousands of supporters all cheering your name. Your gender was the only issue.

So whilst your twin brother moved through the age groups, eventually signing on for a local lower league club, you were left to face the real world.

From the ages of 16 to 25 you spent your weekdays behind a desk, an admin assistant role you couldn’t have hated more if you tried. You lived for those evenings you spent with your local women’s football team. You weren’t paid, you had to wash your own kits, the other team didn’t turn up sometimes, but you loved it.

And that love paid off. When you were scouted by Arsenal it was a dream come true. It might not have been the glamour you were expecting as a child, you still had to work, you still had to wash your own kits, the crowds were usually hundreds not thousands. But you played for the childhood team you adored.

Your favourite footballing memory came in that 2007 UEFA Women’s Cup final, at 23 it felt like you’d conquered the world. As a central defender your two clean sheets more than contributed to a 1-0 double legged win over the favourites.

But you had a lot more to thank Arsenal for than just the footballing memories.

It gave you the family you so desperately loved. Kelly was the star in that team, the person you all looked to in hard times, and the person you fell for from day one. And maybe if it wasn’t for those celebrations in 2007, following 2 years of pining for her, you wouldn’t have ever had the courage to go for it.

And that led you to today.

When the both of you retired in 2017 you were very lucky to have different offers available to you both, whilst Kelly went down the coaching route, heavily being involved within the game and now sitting as assistant coach for Arsenal women. You on the other hand took a role in front of the camera, now a regular on several platforms, presenting and commentating on the game you loved. All of that whilst being a regular at Arsenal, taking on a mentoring role within the club.

You never intended to keep your relationship a secret. At the start maybe, the 7-year age gap between you both wasn’t something you wanted to be twisted in the media, you knew you had something good and that was all that mattered.

But then the moment just never arrived, of course the fans now knew you were together, but you had never spoken in public about it. Private but not secret.

Your wedding following your retirement was very intimate, a few close friends and family probably sealed the deal in the minds of many. It was too much of a co-incidence for you both to post pictures of your own wedding bands at the same time.

If not then your growing family definitely did. In 2019 you welcomed your first daughter into the world, Elsie, followed by Theo in 2021 and your family was completed by the arrival of Ava in 2024. You’d been spotted by fans together on multiple occasions, been in the background of photos together but you never felt the need to make any sort of statement on it.

But today was special in so many ways.

Arsenal had the chance to win a European cup for the first time since you did back in 2007.

You’d barely seen Kelly for the past week, she was either sleeping, playing with the children or at Arsenal. You arrived in Lisbon late last night, heading straight to your hotel, both of your parents accompanying you on the trip, not just to help with the flight but you were working today.

Of course you had both mentioned what was happening today enough that your kids knew what was happening, at 7 you were woken by Elsie and Theo jumping on top of you ready to start the day.

“Mummy’s going to do it today.” Elsie mentioned as you all sat and ate breakfast, Ava suckling the bottle you’d prepped earlier as you ate with the other hand. “She told me.”

“Do you think?”

“Of course, she’s the best.” You probably should have emphasised how good Barcelona were, how Arsenal were the underdogs in many peoples’ eyes. But today felt different, you’d visited some of the squad this week. You built up a mentoring relationship with some of the players, Leah and Lotte especially at some points had felt like your adopted children. Katie was the kid’s crazy auntie. Your kids had become regular visitors at the training ground. You knew every player would give it everything today and on their day they could beat anyone. “Then when I’m older I’m going to win it.”

“With Arsenal?”

“Why would I play for anyone else?”

…..

Your job as a presenter took you to some incredible stadiums. You’d been part of the crew at the past two World Cups and the Euro’s in England, Lisbon matched all of them.

You liked to arrive early, take in the atmosphere both before everyone was on the move and everything was rushed. The children were all taken care of by their grandparents, you were yet to get changed, still in your shorts and old Arsenal shirt and you stood in the centre circle, just taking it all in.

You could feel the nerves creeping in, you’d been so confident all week, it felt different and yet football was nothing without nerves. This mattered and with that came nerves. You wanted this, not just for women’s sport in England, not just for those players, for this club, all the staff, you wanted it for Kelly. For all the work she’s put in, for those long hours and night away. For her.

“Any final words of wisdom?” You were so in your own head you’d blocked out the stream of players now making their way into centre field, Leah coming to wrap her arm around your shoulder. “You good?”

“I will be tonight.” You replied, wrapping your own arm around her waist. “How are you?”

“I’m good, it’s going to be tough but we have to believe.” She sounded confident. “At least that’s what you’ve been telling me all week.”

“Don’t leave any regrets out there, as long as you do that then you can look back on today as a good experience. Whatever happens, it’s all out there.”

“How are the kids?”

“Excited, Elsie told me this morning that you’re going to win tonight and then she’ll win it when she’s older.”

“That girl.” That look told you all you needed to know, you were going to have your hands full with that girl.

“I know.”

“How can she not be when she’s got two legends for mums.”

“Well one at least, not sure about the other one.” Kelly sneaked up behind you both, her body language the image of cool.

“I’ll leave you to it, see you later.” Leah leaned in to give you a hug.

“Go shine out there.” You whispered in her ear, giving her one final tap before you were left alone. “You ready?”

“Of course, what time are they due to get here?”

“Not until just before kick-off, they’ll never sit still otherwise. They’ve got your genes after all.”

“Nothing to do with you of course.”

“Never, I-“

“Y/N, make-up are ready for you.” The floor runner interrupted you both. “Sorry.”

“No worries.” You waved her off before pulling Kelly into your arms, the small number of cameras in the vicinity not enough to spoil this moment. “Good luck.”

“Thank you.”

……

You could never be impartial in a game like this.

You just about managed to be persuaded to take off your Arsenal shirt, the compromise being a bright red satin skirt with a white shirt tucked in.

Your make up was done, you’d ironed out your shirt, checked in on the kids en-route and now it was time to be in front of the camera.

Karen Carney and Fara Williams would be with you today, Becky anchoring the show. The analysis shifted between both teams as they warmed up behind you, the atmosphere building as the crowd grew.

“Y/N you were part of that team back in 2007,” Becky turned to you. “We all know you work closely with Arsenal. What advice have you given them these past few weeks?”

“The cliché is to just say go out and enjoy it. Of course I’ve told them that but it’s just about leaving it all out there. As long as you do your job and you do it to the best of your ability then you can leave today without any regrets.”

“How are your nerves holding up?” Fara teased you. “You love this club.”

“I do, I was doing alright until about two hours ago. Now I’m nervous, I just want it so much for all of them.”

The focus switched to the change in Barcelona’s coach before the attention switched back to Arsenal and their new team.

“Obviously Renee can’t do it alone, she’s joined by Kelly Smith. Y/N your old teammate, what does she offer to this team?” Becky ever the professional asked, a few snickers coming from your counter-parts.

“She’s again just the ultimate professional. There’s no-one better for the team to have around them when she’s there to offer advice. She loves Arsenal and she’s committed to making this team better and taking them to days like today.”

“How has she coped this week?” Karen asked.

“She’s very chilled,” You answered honestly. “At least that’s the version I see, she works long hours and then comes home and switches off.”

It felt natural to speak about her, you were private as a couple but it felt right to give her credit.

“I’m sure right now she’s just in the zone, maybe if you cross to her in the final ten minutes she’ll be anything but calm.”

……

You were anything but calm.

If you had a heart rate monitor on right now, you were sure it would be through the roof. Your ring finger was red raw from fidgeting with your wedding ring throughout. You couldn’t sit still. The air felt tight around you, your chest pounding as you watched the clock slowly tick.

Time was slowing down but Arsenal were winning.

Arsenal were minutes away from being European Champions.

Football in your mind was separated into moments as a player and moments as a supporter and the moment that Stina goal went in was the most joy you’d had as a spectator. You’d grabbed Fara next to you, clinging on for dear life as you jumped onto the seat. Soaking in the atmosphere as the Arsenal red around you jumped for joy.

That moment felt like a lifetime ago now as you watched the board for 7 added minutes go up.

You’d been ushered over to pitch side, ready to step on the moment the whistle went, except now you weren’t just fidgeting in your seat. You were pacing, back and forth, back and forth. Glancing at the clock. Watching the play. Closing your eyes.

It was almost over, Barcelona had a freekick in their own half. Last chance saloon. You couldn’t watch as they got the ball going again.

Then it was all over.

The ref’s whistle blew.

The crowds showed the two sides of football. Barcelona fans slumped in their seats, Arsenal fans jumped out of theirs.

Arsenal were champions.

You were known as the steely defender in your playing days, sent off on a couple of occasions. Not against the odd yellow card. But right now you couldn’t stop the tears from coming as you watched the players and staff swarm on the pitch. Their joy bringing you so much joy.

They only increased as you looked up into the stands, your eyes trained on the little figures in their box, away from the mess currently in the crowds, the smile on their faces as they jumped up and down enough to bring out a little sob. They were right.

You were glad the cameras weren’t on you right now as the TV pictures stayed on the players, your voices now transmitting over them.

“Y/N we can see you’re very emotional right now.” Becky said. “Can you describe how you’re feeling right now?”

“I’m just so happy for the players and the staff, everyone. They deserve it so much, they were all exceptional today to a woman they all did their job. I couldn’t be more proud of them.”

“She’s just glad it’s all over.” Fara interrupted you. “I think she lost ten years in those last ten minutes.”

“Maybe more.”

You handed back over to the commentary team for the team to be given their medals and then the trophy lift. It was a good thing they didn’t need you for commentary as you were honestly left speechless watching on as your wife and all her colleagues received their medals and then joined the team on the podium.

You rejoined your own colleagues on the podium as the team began to disperse around the pitch, giving the fans in the stadium a lap of honour with the trophy.

“Y/N talk us through how tiring it is to defend like Arsenal did over 90 minutes.” Becky asked you.

“It’s exhausting, Barcelona enjoyed really good spells of possession at times today. It would have felt like it’s just them coming in waves and waves, you have to stay pinpoint focused otherwise they’ve got players like Aitana and Alexia who can take an inch and produce a goal.”

“You’ll all have had tough moments in your careers, Stina Blackstenius has had lots of those moments over the past season. How will today have felt for her?”

“Well live for those moments as footballers.” Fara started. “Football comes with it’s tough moments, there are times for everyone where-“

You should have been expecting it really, you were patiently waiting to speak to the players, expecting to get your moment in turn. What you definitely weren’t expecting was for a body to jump on your back, completely knocking you off balance and tumbling to the floor.

“Yess girllllll.” The Irish accent gave it away, so many more bodies piling on top of you, the cameras capturing the moment you were stuck at the bottom of a full pile on, sweat all over your body but you couldn’t care less.

Their smiles lit up the whole pitch as they helped you back on your feet, Leah, Katie, Vic, Lotte, Steph all giving you massive hugs.

“Girls can we get some thoughts on today.” Fara asked them, each of them putting their happiness into words, a few swears coming out but it was filled with delight.

“But I have to thank Y/N.” Katie said pulling you into her arms again. “As a young girl you took me in, under your wing, you showed me what it took to become a professional footballer. You looked after me when I was homesick, invited me into your home.”

These girls couldn’t stop making you cry.

“Even now I know I can always come and get your advice, on football, life, anything. You mean so much to the whole team.” The other girls nodded in agreement. “This one is for you as well. I love you girl.”

“I love you lots.” You whispered back, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Go and celebrate.”

“I’ll save you a tequila.”

“You better.”

You’d only just gotten over that, the focus turning back to analysis, watching back their highlights of the game when you spotted a figure walking towards you.

Fuck professionalism, this was your moment. “I’m sorry.” You apologised, setting down the microphone on the podium and running. Running into the awaiting arms of Kelly, her arms wrapping around your waist as she spun you in the air. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” She whispered back, sealing your lips in a short kiss. “We did it!”

“You did it.”

Kelly was a national treasure, of course they would want an interview and you held her hand as you both made your way back to the podium.

Of course she did the usual questions, the nerves, the game plan, how the players performed. “How does this compare to 2007?” Karen asked Kelly.

“It feels different, we were in Borehamwood, in front of fractions compared to today. Lots of us had work to go to the next day. Now we all know what this means, we’ve worked for months, years for this moment.” She explained. “Plus I’ve got a family here watching on, people I want to make proud.”

“And you did just that.” You confirmed, wrapping your arms around her. “People won’t see the hard work you’ve put in to get to this moment but I do, our children do, you’re the best partner, best mum and you’re our hero.”

“You guys…..” Karen teased you both. “I think you’ve got some little people here to celebrate with.”

You couldn’t do anything but watch as Elsie and Theo ran onto the pitch, straight into Kelly’s arms. You let them have their moment, going over to the sidelines to grab Ava from your mum’s arms before joining them all in a group hug.

“You did it mum!”

“We did.” You couldn’t help but laugh as a mixture of tears and joy lined all your faces.

“I need to find Auntie Katie,” Elsie muttered leaving your grasp. “She promised me something…..”

It wouldn’t be till later on you found out what that was, as you sat in Kelly’s arms in the corner of the party. The two of you all danced out as you watched the younger girls dance the night away, alcohol and pizza lining their stomachs. The two of you in your own little bubble of love.

“Oi you two, how would I go about getting a football net installed in your background…..”

[spookygibberish]

Funeralworms comprise a genus of Juggernaut characterized by a heavily-built, serpentine form, the absence of eyes, a single pair of broad, paddle-like forelimbs, and a prominent array of individually articulated, crushing jaws. They are employed in the disposal of organic materials, the production of high quality fertilizer, and the reclamation of Ibis tissue from corpses. The latter function earning them a central role in Bibat funeral rites, hence the name.

In Bibat, it is believed that Ibis tissue, while a powerful creative force in life, is equally capable of corruption, especially when touched by death. It is therefor not adequate to bury the Ibistouched, since Ibis tissue, if allowed to decompose, has the potential to render the earth fallow and breed illness. By consuming the Ibistouched dead, Funeralworms collect the Ibis tissue from the flesh, freeing it from corruption, purifying it, and accumulating it in their bodies to be returned to the Oracle System. It is mandatory that the corpses of all dagnyds, Sansin, Thrones and Throne-children both headless and unbodied alike, be fed to the Funeralworm. This is not a necessary funeral rite for those who are not Ibistouched, but the devout often choose to have it preformed upon their death. If a funeralworm is not available, cremation is an acceptable alternative.

Funeralworms are semi-aquatic dagnyds that reside entirely in special pools (bymūt)constructed for their housing. At their least elaborate, bymūt are little more than shallow ponds dug into clay soil, but they are often encircled by a low, stone fence with an offering platform at one end, and a chamber for dung collection at the other. These pools are usually located several kilometers from areas of habitation, although many larger cities have grown to encircle bymūt that were originally constructed a more acceptable distance away. These tend to be the most elaborate of their kind, ending up with bespoke temple complexes erected around them. As the functions of the Funeralworm are deeply linked to Bibat customs, their husbandry is entirely handled by Sansin, though the service they offer is a public one.

The design of the bymūt is necessary for the survival of fully mature funeralworms, who are not only so large as to be incapable of freely moving over dry land, but risk being crushed beneath their own weight without the support of water. Newborn funeralworms, at about a meter and a half in length, are the most mobile of their kind, and often attempt to escape their bymūt to explore. This is usually permitted (with supervision), as such young individuals have limited processing capacity, and rarely exist in a context where the sole burden of waste management relies on them. Many Sansin are sympathetic to the plight of the Funeralworm, and see little purpose in restricting the movement of a creature which never approaches agile at any age, and for most of its decades long life will be confined to a single small pool.

Despite a life spent entirely in water, Funeralworms are entirely air-breathing, and are not particularly good swimmers. They are protected from flooding by the high fat content of their bodies, which renders them buoyant and unlikely to drown. The greatest risk floods pose is temptation. Rising water allows Funeralworms the opportunity to travel freely from their bymūt, and many die after becoming stranded once the water level recedes, especially those which are particularly old and heavy.

[houseslollipop]

play the game

you’re a new rheumatologist at ppth. when dr house realizes your intelligence, he becomes easily obsessed. a game of cat and mouse ensues. gregory house x reader.

first house md fic so ty for reading <33 this is self indulgent (right around 4k words). i look forward to writing more like this, i am now taking requests via my ask box :) warnings below. also available on my ao3 greghouseluvr if that is your preferred platform.

mdni, enemies to lovers (i think ?!), pill popping mentions, tw death mentions, some smut, reader referred to with she/her pronouns at times, asshole greg house, i am NOT a medical professional

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

“We need you for a consult,” you hear your friend’s familiar voice from behind you as you reach to open the door to your office.

“Cameron,” you rest your forehead against the wooden door, you’re tired and ready to finish your charting, “do you at least have the file?”

She shakes her head of brunette curls and looks down at the carpeted floor.

“Fine, let’s go.”

You know that the Diagnostics Team would only use you in an emergency. It was probably Cameron’s idea, given that she’s a close friend of yours. Her boss doesn’t seem to be a fan of people stepping on his toes — especially when it comes to his cases.

“Is House okay with me giving my medical opinion?” You ask as you make your way down the hall.

Cameron shrugs, “I don’t know. I just want a second opinion before we pump this eleven-year-old full of steroids.”

A sense of dread fills you. Consults are normal for you, but you’ve never done one for Dr. House. He’s infamous for his outlandish attitude and horrible manners, but he’s a genius. You better not screw this up. Or worse.

Cameron opens the door to the Diagnostics Office.

Gregory House, M.D.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” House gestures towards you and Cameron, “did you two come up with a differential while you were screwing?”

You stand there in a daze, trying to make something of the whiteboard that has about twenty symptoms scribbled on it.

“Who has the file?” Cameron ignores House’s crude remarks, looking to her colleagues.

Dr. Foreman hands it to her, a slim red file.

You read the case back to front — an 11-year-old girl presenting with muscle weakness and several skin rashes. She had just been on a cruise a few weekends ago and plays in a soccer league.

“Has to be juvenile dermatomyositis,” you quickly hand the file back to Foreman, “best treatment is steroids.”

Dr. House shuffles towards his desk, “You heard her, start the treatment.”

Without a minute to spare, the ducklings flee to the ICU to begin treating the patient for your diagnosis. You begin to walk with them, but House stops you.

“You,” he points his cane at you, “not bad. I’ll let you know if the kid survives.”

You nod your head politely and leave his office. You still have a whole day’s worth of charting to catch up on. You can see House throwing a red tennis ball up in the air as you leave, his ankles crossed on his desk. His eyes never falter their watch on you.

A man in a perfectly pressed lab coat heads into Dr. House’s office after you leave. The oncologist — Dr. Wilson. They’re always following each other around.

“I didn’t know you made nice with the new rheumatologist,” Wilson begins his interrogation.

House puts the tennis ball down for a moment, “It was just a consult, it was Cameron’s idiotic idea.”

“So… a beautiful, intelligent doctor didn’t do anything for you?”

“It obviously did something for you,” House scratches the side of his jaw, “weird, I thought hot nurses were more your speed.”

Wilson tries to come up with something witty, but unfortunately there is not much he can muster.

“Come on House, why won’t you just let yourself be vulnerable for once?” He continues his chattering as he follows House into the elevator.

House presses the button to take them to the ICU, “vulnerability is a weakness.”

The ICU is buzzing with the usual hustle and bustle, the smell of disinfectant travels up House’s nostrils. He and Wilson make their way to the patient’s room. House would never admit it — but he has been worried about the patient. She’s only a child, the emergency room had suspected heat exhaustion or an allergic reaction. Electrolytes and allergy tests didn’t help. They were running out of diagnoses.

“She’s doing better already,” Chase emerges from the patient’s room. “Steroids have calmed the inflammatory reactions, she’s resting.”

“So it is dermatomyositis,” House stares at the patient through the glass, “start her on Methotrexate in a few hours.”

“That’s it?” Chase crosses his arms in question, “The case is over?”

“That’s it,” House turns back to the elevator, “she can be discharged tomorrow, let the parents know to bring her to a pediatric rheumatologist.”

You solved a case so quickly that House had nothing to say. They had run every test, exhausted every diagnosis — and all you had to do was read the damn file.

He can’t tell if he’s attracted to your sharp intelligence or angered by it. He just knows that it frustrates him in a way he can’t explain. Just like he can’t explain why he wants to see you again, and again, and again.

“Interesting,” Wilson presses the elevator button this time, “it seems you’ve been outsmarted.”

House knows he’s been more than just outsmarted. At this point, being outsmarted is the least of his problems. Repressing his desires is the priority. It keeps replaying in his mind — the way you licked the tip of your index finger to flip the pages of the patient’s file, how you smoothed your hands over your modest skirt that left just enough to the imagination, how you’re so smart without even trying.

Your charting is barely getting started, you sort through various patients’ files trying to find a place to start. There are countless things you need to finish by the end of the week, but something is distracting you.

Dr. House.

His quick-wit, deep voice, and eyes you could get lost in. It feels so wrong to think of him in a way that makes your stomach drop, but you can’t help the bit of attraction you feel towards the older doctor. Cameron shares stories of his antics and schemes, making him sound like a mad scientist. You didn’t expect to enjoy his crudeness, to desire to be around him again.

The sound of your office door clicking open interrupts your thoughts.

“Dr. House,” you feel heat brimming up to the tips of your ears. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

You adjust your lab coat nervously, and try to make your messy desk look a bit neater.

He pulls out the chair adjacent to your desk. “You mind if I sit?” He says, “Bum leg.”

“Yeah… uhm, sorry,” you motion towards the chair, “is there something you need to discuss?”

“Actually, yes.”

You bite down on your bottom lip. He’s hard to read, his expression neutral as he mindlessly pops a pill into his mouth with no water.

“Is this about the patient?” You begin to panic, praying to whatever higher power that you hadn’t messed up the diagnosis. “Is she showing improvement?”

He twists the orange pill bottle between his fingers. “That’s the problem, she’s fine.”

“And that’s a problem… why?”

A deep breath fills his chest, “you solved the case, it’s over. She’s your patient.”

A look of bewilderment spreads over your face. The whole point of patient care is that patients get better.

House grasps his cane in a move to get up, his feet pointing towards the door.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Your voice stops him in his tracks.

“Full of questions today, are we?” He shoots you a half-hearted smile, “You solved it, she’s yours. It’s that simple. You can prepare her for discharge tomorrow.”

Maybe his crudeness and holier-than-thou attitude isn’t so attractive, because his words are making your ears pound.

“Is this how you reward people for being smarter than you?” Your hands ball into fists in the pockets of your lab coat, you’ve never had someone make you feel so — small. Your intelligence is what has always given you the upper hand, and now it’s letting House kick you down the ladder.

He bites the inside of his cheek and flashes his stupid, ridiculous, awful blue eyes at you, “you may have cured my patient, but I keep the lights on at this hospital.”

The door clicks behind him when he leaves, the tapping of his wooden cane echoing down the hall.

You rub your temples, sinking back into your seat in defeat. It would have been in everybody’s best interest for you to refuse the consult, surely Cameron and the rest of House’s team would’ve come to the correct conclusion.

The patient had started on Methotrexate by morning. Even though Cameron explained to the parents that her condition was chronic, the parents were thrilled their child would live. You fasten on your badge as you hurry to the pediatric ward, your heels clicking against the tile floors.

“Good morning,” you greet the parents with a welcoming smile, “I am happy to share with you that your daughter will be able to go home this afternoon.”

The parents stare at Cameron blankly, “I thought Dr. House was in charge?” The father says.

“Dr. House is no longer the attending on your daughter’s case,” Cameron says, “let me go get the discharge paperwork.”

Cameron spots a familiar face at the nurse’s station, cane in hand.

“The family is asking for you,” Cameron cocks her head towards the patient’s room.

“Pretty sure mommy and daddy will be just fine,” House’s nose scrunches up, “our expert rheumatologist has it all under control.”

“Stop playing games,” Cameron snaps, “can’t you just move onto the next case?”

“Your friend is my next case,” he watches you speak to the patient’s family, he doesn’t do stuff like that, “studied at Duke, fellowship at Mayo Clinic… what else should I know?”

“Get over it, House,” Cameron staples the discharge paperwork and heads back to the patient’s room.

House leans on the nurse’s station, observing you and Cameron through the glass. He notices you take time with the patient, something he has never been good at. A smile tugs at his lips when you give the young girl a high-five.

“I recommend regular follow-ups with a pediatric rheumatologist for now, I will write a referral,” you tell the patient’s parents, “here is my card in case you have any further questions.”

You hand the patient’s file back to Dr. Cameron. As you walk out into the hallway, a wooden cane smacks into your chest.

“Excellent bedside manner,” Dr. House lowers his cane back down to the floor, “where’d they teach you that?”

“Are you hazing me?” You keep walking, purposely leaving him behind.

He catches up to you when you’re at the nurse’s station, you can feel his presence behind you. His warm breath fanning your neck, he’s so close you can hear his heartbeat.

You lean on the counter, scribbling on your notepad and trying to ignore him. The nurse across from you is trying not to stare.

“Just making an effort to get to know the person who is trying to take my job,” he tilts his head closer to your ear.

“I am not after your job,” you turn to face him, your eyes level with his chest, “my only intentions were to help Cameron and the patient.”

The look of anticipation on his face disappears, it’s replaced by rejection. The older man continues to follow you to the elevators, hot on your heels.

You know he’ll follow you into the elevator, piss you off some more. You keep moving past the elevators and head to the stairwell.

“That’s just evil,” he shakes his head at you, “have you no respect for cripples?”

His voice echoes through the stairwell, and you can’t help but laugh a little.

“I’m sure you’ll catch me later,” you shrug, making your way down the rest of the stairs.

House tries to pry his eyes away from you, but he just watches your figure vanish down the stairwell. Only the pain in his leg was stopping him from following you. He reaches into his jacket pocket, feeling around for the small orange pill bottle.

“You know the whole ‘bullying-a-girl-means-you-like-her’ thing only works through junior high,” Wilson makes air quotes with his fingers.

“Oh, and you know everything about women,” House moves past Wilson, “how’s that third divorce going, by the way?”

Wilson crosses his arms, a strand of his dark hair falling between his brows, “you’re deflecting.”

House presses the elevator button with his cane, “actually, you deflected my question.”

The elevator takes them both to the first floor — the clinic. House despises the clinic. Patients wheezing, coughing, itching strange rashes and oozing from every orifice — and all their diagnoses are something that can easily be fixed with some rest, over-the-counter medication, or better decisions.

“There are two reasons you’d come here voluntarily,” Wilson grabs House by the forearm, stopping him, “either to bother Cuddy, or to keep up this strange scheme you have going on.”

“Maybe,” House dramatically clutches his chest, “I’m just upholding my oath to care for every patient.”

You’re in Exam Room 3, examining a man who appears to have swollen lymph nodes. You’d rather be finishing your charting, writing referrals, completing rounds — maybe anything else, but clinic hours are a requirement.

“Swollen lymph nodes are often caused by infections,” you feel the nodule below the man’s jaw, “been sick recently?”

He nods, but several knocks on the door interrupt the exam.

“I’m sorry, this will just be a moment.”

You crack open the door ever-so slightly, almost like you’re afraid of an intruder.

“Seriously?” You say through gritted teeth.

Dr. House’s icy blue eyes stare down at you, his pupils dilated like a cat on the hunt.

“I need you for a consult,” he hands you a patient’s file, you open it.

“House, this guy is in a coma.”

“Exactly!”

Something in your gut just can’t say no. Maybe it’s his salt-and-pepper beard or partially unbuttoned shirt that makes you only dislike him, but not hate him.

“Sir, no need to be concerned about your lymph nodes. If they’re still there in a month, come back to the clinic,” you say to the patient briefly.

“Toodles!” House waves to the patient and reaches over you to close the exam room door.

“I thought you didn’t want my help with patients,” you continue reading through the file as you follow House down the hall.

“I’m testing you,” he pops the cap of his pill bottle open, “maybe you’re not as smart as you think you are.”

Of course it’s a test. You could do this, you had already outsmarted him once.

House takes you to the patient’s room. It’s eerie, the only sound is the heart monitor beeping. The patient is an older man, and he’s been comatose for a month.

“Tell me,” House leans against the rail of the patient’s bed, “why is he in a coma?”

You feel like you’re back in residency, when those nasty attendings would put you on the spot.

You gulp, “patient presented to the emergency room with severe strep throat symptoms, patient had a consistently high fever —“

“Tell me something I don’t know,” House interrupts.

“Patient was admitted to the ICU as the fever, nausea, and vomiting had progressed overnight. Patient was a lifelong smoker, he had difficulty breathing and was put on a ventilator,” your eyes glance to the comatose man.

House keeps his gaze on you. He wants to watch how your hands clutch the file, how your chest heaves from speaking so quickly, how you nervously bite your glossy, swollen lips.

“While the patient was on ventilation, he went into cardiac arrest. He was not pronounced dead, but is now comatose,” you look up from the file and at House, “it’s rheumatic fever.”

He reaches across the patient’s bed, snatching the file from you.

“He could still be with us,” you touch the patient’s hand, “if his strep hadn’t gotten so bad, he would’ve been fine.”

“You knew what he had,” House scrubs his hand over his face, “I mean, I don’t care, but you knew.”

“You do care,” you begin walking out of the patient’s room, “you wanted me to be wrong.”

The tapping of the cane, you can hear it. He’s following you.

“I didn’t want you to be wrong,” he shoves the file under his arm.

“You didn’t want me to be right.”

“Then why’d you come with me?”

He’s in the elevator with you, following you, again. Perhaps this is some kind of weird social experiment he’s trying out.

You take him in for a moment. What would it be like, just one kiss? What would his big, rough hands feel like gripping your hips?

His eyes soften, and the crinkles by his eyes make you smile. He keeps close to you as you walk to your office, your heart pounding against your ribcage.

“I’m going to go into my office now,” you open the door.

“Wouldn’t be chivalrous of me if I didn’t walk you in.”

Click.

“Did you lock the door?” You take your lab coat off, hanging it on the back of your chair.

“I think you need to get that checked,” he points to the doorknob. “Might be defective.”

It’s Dr. House, he’s just being a prick. That’s what you keep telling yourself.

You stand in front of him, observing the way he tenses up. The silence is palpable, and tension seethes through the both of you. You’re afraid if you touch, one of you might explode.

You muster up the confidence to grip his red dress shirt, his eyes going wide. You pull him against the wall into what can only be described as the most desperate, dirty, satisfying kiss you’ve ever experienced. An eruption of pleasure ignites through your body as House cradles your jaw, kissing you harder. His cane falls to the floor. Your lips are even softer than he had imagined, you taste like pure sweetness.

House feels like flying, electricity sparks throughout him. For the first time in months, he’s focused on something other than his pain. He slides his hand under your blouse, feeling your soft skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps.

The stubble of his beard against your face and his bruising kisses make you writhe against him. You’re putting your hands wherever you can reach, popping open the buttons of his shirt to explore him.

“Jackpot,” he takes a moment to admire your flushed face and seductive eyes.

You push him back towards your desk chair, pawing his jacket off. His lips continuously crash against yours, hot and needy. He makes a move to sink his teeth into your collarbone. It makes you feel dizzy, like he’s claiming you.

House sits under you, waiting for your next move. All rationality is neglected, and your hands begin unbuckling his belt.

Checkmate.

Hungry kisses make their way down your neck as House’s calloused hand migrates up your thigh, pulling down your underwear. Your office will be a mess by the time all is said and done, articles of clothing and paperwork strewn across the floor.

House isn’t the talkative type during a time like this, but he groans your name and his hands grip your hips firmly. His head falls back as you settle into a rhythm. He starts assisting your movements, his warm hands unbuttoning your blouse and roaming your body.

There’s more greedy kisses, you feel full to the brim with everything. Your legs shake, and all that you feel is House. His lips, his hands against your skin, his heart beating against yours. It’s euphoric.

Time slows down and your eyes briefly fall shut. House’s fingers trail down your spine, a soft smile upon his face.

His chest glistens with a sheen layer of sweat and his face is flushed. You’re willing to bet that seeing him in such a state of happiness is a rarity.

House picks up your underwear from the arm of your chair and shoves them in the pocket of his dress shirt, “I’m saving these for later.”

“I have a whole drawer of them at home.”