#laser-cut paper works

[sheltiechicago]

Studio Ibbini Juxtaposes Negative Space and Botanical Filigree in New Laser-Cut Paper Works

Artist Julia Ibbini and computer scientist Stéphane Noyer of the Abu Dhabi-based Studio Ibbini (previously) continue to collaborate on intricately constructed works that fall at the intersection of art and mathematics. The duo creates vessels and flat pieces by layering laser-cut papers into complex structures replete with floral filigree and ornate patterning.

[foone]

why are printers so hated? it's simple:

computers are good at computering. they are not good at the real world.

the biggest problems in computers, the ones that have had to change the most over the time they've existed, are the parts that deal with the real world. The keyboard, the mouse, the screen. every computer needs these, but they involve interacting with the real world. that's a problem. that's why they get replaced so much.

now, printers: printers have some of the most complex real-world interaction. they need to deposit ink on paper in 2 dimensions, and that results in at least three ways it can go on right from the start. (this is why 3D printers are just 2D printers that can go wrong in another whole dimension)

scanners fall into many of the same problems printers have, but fewer people have scanners, and they're not as cost-optimized. But they are nearly as annoying.

This is also why you can make a printer better by cutting down on the number of moving elements: laser printers are better than inkjets, because they only need to move in one dimension, and their ink is a powder, not a liquid. and the best-behaved printers of all are thermal printers: no ink and the head doesn't move. That's why every receipt printer is a thermal printer, because they need that shit to work all the time so they can sell shit. And thermal is the most reliable way to do that.

But yeah, cost-optimization is also a big part of why printers are such finicky unreliable bastards: you don't want to pay much for them. Who is excited for all the printing they're gonna be doing? basically nobody. But people get forced to have a printer because they gotta print something, for school or work or the government or whatever. So they want the cheapest thing that'll work. They're not shopping on features and functionality and design, they want something that costs barely anything, and can fucking PRINT. anything else is an optional bonus.

And here's the thing: there's a fundamental limit of how much you can optimize an inkjet printer, and we got near to it in like the late 90s. Every printer since then has just been a tad smaller, a tad faster, and added some gimmicks like printing from WIFI or bluetooth instead of needing to plug in a cable.

And that's the worst place to be in, for a computer component. The "I don't care how fancy it is, just give me one that works" zone. This is why you can buy a keyboard for 20$ and a mouse for 10$ and they both work plenty fine for 90% of users. They're objectively shit compared to the ones in the 60-150$ range, but do they work? yep. So that's what people get.

Printers fell into that zone long, long ago, when people stopped getting excited about "desktop publishing". So with printers shoved into the "make them as cheap as possible" zone, they have gotten exponentially shittier. Can you cut costs by 5$ a printer by making them jam more often? good. make them only last a couple years to save a buck or two per unit? absolutely. Can you make the printer cost 10$ less and make that back on the proprietary ink cartridges? oh, they've been doing that since Billy Clinton was in office.

It's the same place floppy disks were in in about 2000. CD-burners were not yet cheap enough, USB flash drives didn't exist yet (but were coming), modems weren't fast enough yet to copy stuff over the internet, superfloppies hadn't taken over like some hoped, and memory cards were too expensive and not everyone had a drive for them. So we still needed floppy disks, but at the same time this was a technology that hadn't changed in nearly 20 years. So people were tired of paying out the nose for them... the only solution? cut corners. I have floppy disks from 1984 that read perfectly, but a shrinkwrapped box of disks from 1999 will have over half the disks failed. They cut corners on the material quality, the QA process, the cleaning cloth inside the disk, everything they could. And the disks were shit as a result.

So, printers are in that particular note of the death-spiral where they've reached the point of "no one likes or cares about this technology, but it's still required so it's gone to shit". That's why they are so annoying, so unreliable, so fucking crap.

So, here's the good news:

You can still buy a better printer, and it will work far better. Laser printers still exist, and LED printers work the same way but even cheaper. They're still more expensive than inkjets (especially if you need color), but if you have to print stuff, they're a godsend. Way more reliable.

This is not a stable equilibrium. Printers cannot limp along in this terrible state forever. You know why I brought up floppy disk there? (besides the fact I'm a giant floppy disk nerd) because floppy disks GOT REPLACED. Have you used one this decade? CD-Rs and USB drives and internet sharing came along and ate the lunch of floppy disks, so much so that it's been over a decade since any more have been made. The same will happen to (inkjet) printers, eventually. This kind of clearly-broken situation cannot hold. It'll push people to go paperless, for companies to build cheaper alternatives to take over from the inkjets, or someone will come up with a new, more reliable printer based on some new technology that's now cheap enough to use in printers. Yeah, it sucks right now, but it can't last.

So, in conclusion: Printers suck, but this is both an innate problem caused by them having to deal with so much fucking Real World, and a local minimum of reliability that we're currently stuck in. Eventually we'll get out of this valley on the graph and printers will bother people a lot less.

Random fun facts about printing of the past and their local minimums:

in the hot metal type era, not only would the whole printing process expose you to lead, the most common method of printing text was the linotype, which could go wrong in a very fun way: if the next for a line wasn't properly justified (filling out the whole row), it could "squirt", and lead would escape through gaps in the type matrix. This would result in molten lead squirting out of the machine, possibly onto the operator. Anecdotally, linotype operators would sometimes recognize each other on the street because of the telltale spots on their forearms where they had white splotches where no hair grew, because they got bad lead burns. This type of printing remained in use until the 80s.

Another fun type of now-retired printers are drum printers, a type of line printer. These work something like a typewriter or dot-matrix printer, except the elements extend across the entire width of the paper. So instead of printing a character at time by smacking it into the paper, the whole line got smacked nearly at once. The problem is that if the paper jammed and the printer continued to try to print, that line of the paper would be repeatedly struck at high speed, creating a lot of heat. This worry created the now-infamous Linux error: "lp0 on fire". This was displayed when the error signals from a parallel printer didn't make sense... and it was a real worry. A high speed printer could definitely set the paper on fire, though this was rare.

So... one thing to be grateful about current shitty inkjet printers: they are very unlikely to burn anything, especially you.

(because before they could do that they'd have to work, at least a little, first, and that's very unlikely)

[lucidfairies]

money [a.a]

pairing: ceo!abby x secretary!reader

synopsis: when you finally land the job of your dreams, you had no idea what your boss would be like. and damn, no idea you conjured could've done her justice.

warnings: top!abby, bottom!reader, age gap (reader is in her 20s, abby is in her early 40s), cunnilingus (r/a receiving), strap (r!receiving), praise + degradation, mommy kink, dirty talk, manhandling, pet names (sweetheart, sweet girl, angel, baby, whore, slut)

word count: 3.3k

it wasn't everyday that you landed a job with one of the most well known law firms in washington. for now you were just a secretary, someone to sit outside of an office and take calls, but your hope was to work your way up to one of their lawyers.

you had little prior experience with being a secretary, but it was just enough to get you this gig. the building was large, and the office you were to assist was on one of the highest floors, naturally where the head of the firm was.

you knew her, abby anderson. incredibly talented lawyer who even won over a supreme court case. though you hadn't met her in person, you were exhilarated to meet her. she was who you dreamed to be, especially by her age.

it wasn't until your third day, when abby was finally in the office, when you got a glimpse of what working here would actually look like. abby showed up in a well pressed black suit, armani logo drilling into your eyes like a laser, making you feel all that underdressed.

"do I know you?" she asked when you knocked gently on her office door and went in. she truly didn't mean to be rude - her son had been sick for three days and she was feeling it now - but you didn't know that. you automatically assumed she was an asshole, and that threw you off.

you cleared your throat, meeting her eyes and immediately shifting them again. she was intimidating, almost scary. "I'm y/n. I'm your new assistant." she looked you up and down, gaze still burning your skin, and the corner of her mouth turned up to a smirk.

"great. I take my coffee black, nothing in it. there will be a card on your desk that you can charge it to every morning. get yourself something. I expect you to leave before I do, as I stay late. by any chance, do you babysit?" your eyes found hers as you finally looked up.

"I mean, I can. I used to when-" she cut you off, uninterested in anything except the yes. you noted that for later.

"I might need you to pick up my son from school every couple weeks. not often, and certainly not until I've run a background check on you." she wasn't hardly looking at you now, eyes flipping between her papers and computer. "did I miss anything?"

"no ma'am," you said, standing up and instinctively wiping off your skirt, though there was nothing there. suddenly you were back at your desk, waiting for calls and bookings to come in while trying to make sense of that interaction.

the next day you arrived late, but in your defense, the line at the coffee place was long and traffic was even longer, and now you weren't even sure that the coffee was hot. abby was there when you gently knocked on her door, allowing your entry with a low 'come in.

"I'm so sorry I'm late, there was really bad traffic and the line-"

"it's okay, sweet girl." your stomach flipped. yesterday, when your eyes knew nothing but the floor, you hadn't exactly taken in her appearance, but today. today.

today she was in a black turtleneck, sleeves right around the muscle in her arms that just made her look so, so good. her black slacks were tight at her hips with a belt, and they were hugging her legs so tight that you were sure the seam would rip.

her hair was pulled into a nice bun and she wore no makeup, not that she ever needed to. she had freckles, beautiful eyes. rings. she had rings, that she could put inside of you any day.

"I'll be on time tomorrow, miss." your gaze dropped again as you turned to leave her office. this was surely going to be nothing but torture for the following months.

two weeks later was the first time she asked you to stay late. you originally had plans, but the way your name dripped off of her tongue like honey made you immediately cancel them. she had asked you politely to pick up her son, and you even acquired her number from the ordeal.

dealing with kids was not your specialty, but abby's son was a delight. he talked all about his mom, some about his dad and it made you wonder if abby was single or not. she never wore a ring to your knowledge, not even on a necklace, and from your speculation she almost looked like a lesbian. maybe you were just dreaming about the end.

if you had taken your apartment and multiplied it by ten, it still wouldn't be half the size of abby's house. she truly did have money, if the armani suits and porsche didn't say that already.

an hour into your babysitting, which almost just felt like hanging out with a kid in a mansion, abby got home. she walked in, greeting you with the first real smile you had ever seen on her face. your brain malfunctioned when you gently placed her hand on your arm and pressed an innocent kiss onto your cheek.

you were blushing profusely, pupils blown, almost dizzy, all she did was kiss your cheek, a very normal way of greeting someone and you were fucked. abby didn't fail to see you run your fingers over the spot and look at them before quickly turning back towards the two of them.

abby lived for it. lived for the you drooled over everything she did, lived for the way that she was sure her fingers would look so, so good in your mouth... and she tried not to think about it. how could she, when her son was standing right next to her, trying to tell her about his day, and you. you just looked so innocent.

you were engulfed in her smell, the perfect balance of pine and amber and erotica. she smelled like five hundred dollar cologne right off the shelf of valentino. you wanted to smell like that, wanted to smell like that, wanted to wear her clothes and have everyone think that you were together.

"thanks for coming, sweetheart. I'll see you on monday." you looked at her with your brows knit, knowing you had work the following day, friday. "take the day off. you did something for me, and I'm repaying you. use my card and get something."

the amount of money she had to just throw around was so attractive to you. she was an independent woman who brought in millions every year and was letting some secretary she had known for three weeks let buy anything on a day off.

monday had arrived, and you had purchased nothing with abby's card, naturally. you weren't one to spend someone's money just because they had a lot of it, or because they told you to. she would've had to buy it for you to accept it, at that.

it was nearing eleven when abby called you into her office by your first name, instead of one of the many nicknames she always seems to use. "sit." she demanded as you stepped in, and you did so.

"is something wrong, ms. anderson?" she wasn't mad, but she was irritated. she told you to do something, told you to put yourself first and you didn't.

"I told you to treat yourself on friday," her gaze left her laptop and met your eyes. "why didn't you?" you blanked for a moment.

"I just.. I didn't feel right spending money that wasn't mine." she gave you a disapproving look, before getting up and coming around her desk to stand in front of you. in a matter of moments, one of her large hands was grabbing your jaw and forcing your head up to look at her.

she bent down slightly, lips grazing over yours, and you were sure she could feel how much your face heated up. "next time I tell you to do something, you're going to do it. understand, sweet girl?"

"I don't-" your pupils were blown and you were so desperate for her to press her lips just a bit closer, fill the gap and just let you have it.

"say 'yes abby'."

"y-yes abby." she let go of your face and went back to her desk, pretending to pay you little attention, but she was acutely aware of the way you pushed your thighs together and squirmed.

"you're dismissed. I expect to see a charge by the morning." you got up and hurried out, going straight to the bathroom. your face was burning up, and you could vaguely see an imprint from her hand.

you were meaninglessly circling the mall, trying to decide what to spend this newfound money on. obviously you wouldn't get something big and glamorous, no matter how much she seemingly wanted you to.

every time you walked, you seemed to pass victoria's secret. It seemed like it was calling you to buy something, and after that interaction with abby earlier, you decided that maybe you should treat yourself and went in.

you looked around for a while before finding a cute blue set, with embroidered, lacy flowers. it was nothing special, just transparent and high waisted, but it was speaking to you. suddenly you knew what you were wearing to work the next day.

- - -

you felt completely scandalous wearing a short little skirt over the lingerie in the morning, with a button down, where the first few buttons were unbuttoned. it was different from your usual dress pants and blouse, but it definitely did what you needed it to do.

work was as usual for the majority of the morning, and you were suddenly doubting why you wore what you did. there was no point, you were seriously delusional and seriously needed help. what kind of freak where's lingerie and completely inappropriate work clothes to work after one minor interaction with their boss?

that was until you got a simple email from ms. anderson herself, reading nothing but;

my office. now, please.

you cleared your throat, brushed out your hair slightly and adjusted your shirt before nonchalantly entering her office. you sat, observing the way she remained quiet for a moment before clearing her desk and turning her attention towards you.

“did you think I wouldn't realize?” she asked, cooly, with her eyebrows raised slightly. “I mean, props to you, you did as you were told. but I checked the card. I'm not the only one who can see the transactions on that card either, sweetheart.”

you were immediately red. who else could see them? “I didn't r-really think-”

“no, you didn't. I bet the men in my finances would love to see you dancing around in whatever you bought, wouldn't they, baby?” she was standing before you could think, hands resting on the handles of your chair. “why don't you show me, huh? I know you're wearing it.”

“I'm not- we can't do that here.” you looked around, though you knew no one would ever bother her and her office had no cameras. “we're at work, abigail.” there was a fast switch in her eyes, the way they went from cocky to wide, almost needy.

“fuck,” her head dropped into the crook of your neck before she ran her nose along your jaw. “say it again. please, baby.” her tone, the gentle pleading made any rational thoughts disappear from your mind. your hand wrapped around the collar of her button down and pulled her in gently.

“abigail,” you whispered, “I want this,” with that, her hands were everywhere, all at once. she was pulling you up, wrapping her large hands around your hips as she pulled you in for a harsh kiss. she was forcing you onto her desk, keeping her lips to yours as your bodies molded to each other.

she left your lips, finding a perfect spot on your neck and sucking. you gasped when you felt her hand undoing the buttons of your shirt and pulling it out of your skirt. you were grabbing her by her waist trying to pull her closer as she continued to mark up your neck and grab your tits.

when she finally pulled away from your neck, her eyes became wide looking at your lingerie clad tits. you slid your shirt the rest of the way off and tossed it, looking up at her as you began to unbutton hers. she didn't let you get very far before she was gently pushing you back until your back was against the cool wood of the desk.

she unclipped your bra and pulled it off, tongue immediately meeting your nipple. she bit it and you yelped, grabbing her shoulders. her large hand was messing with your other, tugging gently and kneading. "I love your tits so fucking much, baby.” she mumbled into your skin while she kissed down your stomach.

she left more hickies on your ribs, but you desperately needed her in one place. she was pulling your skirt down in seconds, pressing her tongue against you like it was nothing and watching you arch and moan. she was eating you out through your underwear for a minute, before you grabbed her hair and pulled her head up.

"take them off." she smirked, and her head tilted slightly to the side.

"who said you're in charge, sweet angel?" the nickname was new, but you fucking loved that she always called you sweet. you were something sweet to her, and that made your brain lag every time.

"abby please," you bucked into her, chasing friction. that's when you felt it; the large bulge in her slacks that you hadn't noticed earlier.

"feel that, baby? that's all for you." she pulled down your underwear slowly, tossing it in the pile of clothes. she spread your lips, watching slick connect and drip down your thighs. your face burned and you covered it, embarrassed. "uncover your face or I'll stop." you did as told.

she pulled a ponytail off her wrist and pulled her hair into a bun before pressing her tongue into your clit and licking a fat stripe. your head hit the desk with a thud, reveling at the feeling. she worked your clit, sucking it into her mouth and painting patterns with her tongue while she pressed a finger into entrance.

she used her free hand to hold you down by your stomach, since your squirming was messing her up. you whined when she added a second finger, not used to her thick fingers. "if you can't take my fingers, how am I supposed to fuck you with my strap?" you moaned at her words, loving the dirtiness of it.

she returned to your clit and you got loud when she curled her fingers up into the best spot, whimpering and groaning. she remembered the time when you pressed your fingers to your cheek in her house, and brought her unused hand to your mouth, tapping your chin lightly. "open your mouth and suck," she instructed, noticing your confused look.

you took two of her fingers in your mouth and sucked them, which shut you up. your stomach coiled, a warm feeling rushing between your legs before you could even mumble a word. it felt like you just kept coming, until she finally pulled away from your cunt.

"are you gonna give me another one, angel?" she was unclipped her belt while you caught your breath. "wanna fuck you all day." she pulled her pants and boxers down just barely enough to get her strap out. "flip over, ass up." you turned over, fucked out muscles aching.

she ran the tip of her strap between your folds, letting your wetness lube it up, then lined up with your hole. she pushed just the tip in, groaning at the way you took it so well and swallowed her in. "what if I just fucked you like this, huh?" you whined.

"please.. need more," you pushed your hips back slightly, trying to push her in further. she pulled out, simply pushing the tip back in.

"desperate fucking whore," she thrust in on the last word, bottoming out immediately. you whimpered, the strap stretching you far more than her fingers. "aw, baby, does that hurt?" she pulled out far and fucked into you again.

she started fucking you, deep and hard, until you were moaning and grabbing onto the desk, trying to stabilize yourself. one of her hands left your hips and grabbed your hair, wrapping it around her fist and tugging. "fuck.. abby- abs.. mommy,”

your eyes widened at the name, which came out unintentionally. she stopped momentarily before groaning and picking her pace back up rapidly. "call me that again." the tip of her strap kissed your cervix and bumped against your g-spot every time. her arm wrapped around your waist, flicking your clit.

"mommy.. m'gonna cum." you slurred, cock drunk and fucked out. she kept her pace, hardly changing anything except for the fact that she was louder now, finding the perfect angle to get the harness to hit her clit.

"just wait a second, my love,” you held it for as long as you could, but it became too much, and she was hitting just right. your mind went absolutely blank as your vision went white, a wave crashing over you as you came.

you could hear abby moaning, but you were still going, and unable to think of anything. “fuck baby, you make such a mess.” you relaxed your tense body and look over your shoulder at abby's soaked harness, pants, and desk.

“m’sorry.” she slowly pulled her strap out and unclipped it front her hips, letting you lay for another minute before she grabbed your hips and helped you flip over and sit up. “wanna make you cum, mommy.” you looked at her with doe eyes, watching her eyes darken.

“I already came, sweetheart. don't worry about me.” you brought your hand down to cup her cunt and she took in a sharp breath. you ground your palm against her clit and she groaned, shifting her stance from foot to foot.

you slid off the desk with wobbly legs and kneeled in front of her, pupils blown. “please mommy,” you ran your nails over her abs and under her boxer strap lightly, making her muscles tense.

“such a slut, aren't you? want mommy to fuck your face?” you nodded, pulling her boxers down to her ankles. her blonde bush matched her hair, and you noticed her happy trail that you hadn't earlier. “stick out your tongue, baby, be a good girl.”

you stuck your tongue out flat, not even getting a chance to lick before she was pressing her cunt to your mouth. she fucked herself on your face, gripping your hair tight and grinding fast. you gently pushed her against the desk, lifting one of her legs to your shoulder and leaving the other one down.

she must have loved the new angle, because she was moaning and grunting more than you had ever heard her. her clit was twitching and puffy, wet from your spit and her slick. she let out an involuntary whimper, and it was like music to your ears. “gonna c-cum on your f-fucking face, angel.”

her legs shook as she came, ans you spent the following moments licking all of it up. you pulled away and stood up, still shaky. she pulled her boxers and slacks up, moving towards the pile of clothes and handing you what was yours. “do you wanna get dinner tonight?” she stopped what she was doing to button up your shirt and zip your skirt.

“yeah, that's great.” she smiled, kissing you softly.

“you can go home if you want to clean up. I can take my own calls for a few minutes.” it was your turn to smile, grateful to get out of your uncomfortable, wet clothes.

“I'll see you tonight?” you asked, looking over your shoulder once you got to the door.

“pick you up at seven.”

a/n: part two? 🤭

tag list: @shewantstoknow @baumbii @zombholic

[itscolossal]

Studio Ibbini Juxtaposes Negative Space and Botanical Filigree in New Laser-Cut Paper Works

[littlefeatherr]

Julia Ibbini, courtesy of Heron Arts

The United Emirates-based artist sources elements from Islamic geometry, embroidery, meenakari enamel work, and even electronic music to inspire the designs that compose her laser cut paper works. The complex patterns and layers of her colorful compositions are a metaphor for the artist’s multicultural background as a dual national from Jordan and the UK, and share elements of symbolism seen in the Middle East region. Ibbini uses computer algorithms to create digital designs that she laser cuts onto paper. She then layers these detailed pieces and hand-paints them with ink.

[sm8th0p]

date - simon “ghost” riley x medic!reader

a/n: you have no idea how much I LOVE medic!reader so this is my spin on it 🕺🕺🕺 and like private but not secret relationship with simon holy shit I live for that shit

desc: poor guy unknowingly hitting on the lieutenant’s lovely wife

warnings: descriptions of wound/gash, slight foul language

You were nose deep in your paperwork when the doors to your office opened, making you whip your head to look at the intrusion. You body relaxed at the sight of Ghost and Soap, casually walking to your desk. Tilting your head a bit, not noticing that either of them were injured so it confused you why they were visiting the medbay.

“Is everything alright?” You asked, looking up from your seated position to look at your behemoth of a husband. “Yeah. Jus’ wanted to see you.” He said softly, palms on the desk and slightly leaning over it. “And what’s Soap doing here?” You tilted your head to see the man behind the lieutenant, busy with his phone. Ghost crossed his arms and you could feel his annoyance radiating off his stance from the corner of your eye.

“Aye, doc.” Soap greeted you as he lifted his gaze from his phone. “I’m just tagging along, got some questions to ask L.t.”

“Should’ve asked during the damn briefing.” He said, tilted his head a bit to glare at the sergeant. You knew how much your husband hated it when people interrupt the times you guys were together, since the chance to spend time with just you were rare in the chaos that happened everyday in the base. Sometimes you were confused if he was annoyed or jealoused.

“I forgot, alright..” Soap pursed his lips and scooted away a bit, to give you and Ghost some privacy. Not a lot of people knew about your marriage with Ghost, but they know you were married by the beautiful ring on your ring finger. Only the task force knew and over time, they learned the silent queues to give the both of you some space and you were incredibly grateful for that.

Ghost placed his left palm on the table and leaned in slightly, eyes laser focused on your face. “What is it, Si?” Your tone was heavy with exhaustion as Ghost looked down at you, and you could see his eyebrows furrowed a bit under the balaclava he wore.

“Your shift ends in a bit, right?” He brought a hand to gently cup your jaw. You nodded. “I want to take you out for dinner. You need a break, love.” He said, voice hushed as he took in your tired eyes. There was a moment of silence as you lowered you gaze to the papers on your table, before looking back at him.

“Is Soap coming along too?” You teased, fighting a smile. “God no.” He replied right after the words left your mouth. You laughed before continuing, “It’s a date then.” A grin formed on your lips. “It is.” You felt his warm lips over the mask as he kissed your forehead, before joining Soap to sit in one of the empty patient rooms to wait for you. The door to the room was open, so you could hear a faint conversation and Soap’s laugh while you continued your paperwork.

Not five minutes later, the doors to the medbay opened again and a soldier walked in, clutching his hand. You looked up from the paperwork and your eyes widened slightly at the blood on his hands. “What happened?” You immediately stood up and walked over to him, guiding him to sit in an empty room right beside your husband’s.

“Accidentally cut my hand open while working in the garage. It’s not as bad as it looks.” You were sitting in front of him, his palm in your hands as you carefully inspect the gash. Your eyebrows furrowed at how calm and nonchalant his tone was, so you looked up from his palm to see he was slightly smiling at you.

“You look oddly happy for a person with a bloody hand.” You quipped before turning around, collecting a few items from the cabinet behind where you sat. The man looked down and laughed, and you could hear how- bashful it sounded. “I feel fine, doc. Like I said, it doesn’t hurt as bad.” He replied, and you can hear a hint of smug in his voice.

You playfully shook your head at him as you sat back down. The fact that he wasn’t brooding over the injury really calmed the tension, but you couldn’t help but feel a bit off. “Thankfully the cut wasn’t that deep, so you don’t need stitches. A few bandages will do.” He nodded, but you felt his gaze on you.

You shifted in your seat, ripping open an antiseptic wipe to clean the wound. “This is going to sting a bit.” You said as you held the wipe.

“Don’t worry, I can handle it.” The way he tried to sound cool had you cringing. The second you place down the wipe on the wound, you heard a faint hiss and you let out a huff that resembled a laugh. “You can, huh?” You met his gaze and he avoided it by looking to the side with an embarrassed grin.

A few moments of silence later, the soldier spoke up. “Say, doc,” You hummed, focused on throwing away the wipe once you were done sterilising the wound.

“What would you say if I uh- if someone asked you out? Asking for a friend.”

Your face was out of his sight since you were looking down on his palm, so he didn’t see you blinked slowly as you figured out why he was trying so hard to impress you. Suddenly you were aware that the chatter in the next room had gone silent, and you just knew that they were listening.

You looked up to see a faint red hue on his cheeks, and you couldn’t help but let out another huff of laughter at the sight. “Did you purposefully got this wound to see me for that?” You asked jokingly as you started to wrap his palm in gauze. “Woah, no. ..but I would, if it meant I could see you again.” People asking you out wasn’t something uncommon to you, but his confidence baffled you in a way. If only he knew who you were married to.

You decided to play along, curious to know where this would lead. “Does this friend of yours.. know that I’m married? I don’t keep it a secret, you know.” You said as you raised your hand to show an outline of a ring beneath the latex gloves. He didn’t say anything for a bit, eyes focused on the ring as he kissed his teeth.

“But your husband is not here, is he? A pretty girl like you deserves to be treated somewhere nice, doc. I can take you out, tonight.” He uttered.

You felt your eye twitch and heard the chairs in the next room scraped against the floor. You tugged a bit on the gauze, making sure it’s secure. At this point you were almost done with him, so you look up to meet his gaze, but what you saw behind him made the excitement in your body skyrocket.

Thank god his back was facing the doorway, because there stood Ghost, arms menacingly crossed across his broad chest, leaning on the doorframe. Soap was beside him, his phone out and presumably recording the unfortunate moment. He even had a palm over his mouth desperately trying to supress his laughter.

An idea sparked in your head, you pursed your lips in a thin line and looked down for a bit, before meeting the soldier’s eyes again. “You think I’m pretty?” You replied in a low tone. God, you felt the goosebumps travelling all over your back, cringing so, so hard. He nodded eagerly and muttered, “So pretty.”

“…Thank you, but I don’t know.. I already have a date tonight.” You feigned innocence and tilted your head. “Really?,” he scoffed. Judging from his reaction, you assumed he thought that another soldier at the base already asked you out. Well, he was right. “Who’s the lucky fella? Is it the new private?” You playfully shrugged. “It’s him, right? he told me you rejected him..”

A bubble of laughter erupted from your stomach, both from his reply and the way Ghost stood behind him. Ghost knew well how much you liked to tease him and he’s fighting the urge to just grab the soldier and punch a hole into his goddamn face. The soldier furrowed his eyebrows, lips tugged in a confused half-smile.

“No, no not with the private. With my husband, actually. Isn’t that right, honey?”

Your gaze now landed on the figure behind the soldier, and he turned around quickly and looked up to meet Ghost’s blood curdling glare. “..L-lieutenant,” He greeted in a mix of respect and pure horror. More of the latter.

You knew Soap’s phone got a crystal clear view of the colours draining out of the poor soldier’s face, making a mental note to watch it later. His eyes widened and you could see how frigid his body had turned as Ghost walked over to your side.

“That’s right. In fact, I think we might be late for the reservation. You’re almost done, love?” He said softly to you, before enunciating the last word while looking straight into the soldier’s soul. His adam’s apple shifted as he gulped down the terror.

You nodded cheerily, releasing the soldier’s bandaged hand before standing up and walking over to the doorframe. “Alright, my nurse will inform you how to take care of the wound. It will take about a week to fully heal, so be careful. Take care, soldier.” You said with a bubbly tone before exciting the room to get ready to end your shift.

Now he was alone with the lieutenant in the room, minus the borderline-laughing sergeant behind the doorframe. Ghost said nothing as he continued to glare fucking daggers into the soldier and seeing him squirm in the seat, waiting for the nurse. He felt cold sweat run down his spine, eyes wide and trying hard to not look at the lieutenant’s gaze. The pure awkwardness and realisation of ‘I just hit on the lieutenant’s WIFE’ made him wanted to faint.

The tension was soon cut through like a knife by Ghost himself, his deep voice bouncing off the walls. “Rest up, soldier. You have a long day tomorrow.” He said sternly as he left the room. As if he took the pressure out with him, the soldier finally let out a deep breath that he didn’t realise he was holding.

A faint “beep” and a laughter was heard outside of the door, making the scared-shitless soldier turn around in his seat. Soap peeked his head and looked at him, a grin on his face. “You fucked up, lad. Better warn the private too, if I was ya’. An’ your whole squad. Best of luck.” He spoke in amusement before walking off to find you and Ghost and letting the soldier drown in his shithole of despair.

[reiderwriter]

This request is inspired by the season 1 finale when Elle and Morgan are on that tropical vacation:) could you do something where the team is somewhere like that for a case and after it’s closed they decide to stay another night and go to a club and the reader gets Spencer to dance with her and at first he’s really awkward but then they really get into it (can end however you want:))

A/N: I took this idea and RAN. When I tell you I was sitting furiously the entire way through this, I mean it 😭 thank you so much for requesting! 🥰

Warnings: smut, 18+ minors dni, semi-public sex, Munch!Spencer, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, cum play, alcohol consumption, slight masturbation (m).

The sun was bright and hot in Jamaica. You'd landed a week ago for a case which had now wrapped and were enjoying the cool breeze from the sea and the hospitality of Derek Morgan’s hotel-resort-owning friend. 

Travelling internationally was always a little bit tougher than working on the domestic cases, but the international team was spread thin, and somehow, no case had landed on your desk until this one did. Graciously, the FBI had let you have another 24 hours before your return. 

You'd spent the day stretching out in the sun, an incredibly large beach umbrella set up beside you housing Spencer Reid who had let you know early into the trip that he burned easily. 

“All I'm saying is, I've read enough papers on skin cancer to know the sun is a deadly laser.” 

“A twenty minute game of beach volleyball isn't going to kill you, kid. Come on, these ladies are waiting, and I will leave your ass here.” 

“Stop bothering him, Derek,” you defended Spencer, partly because Derek was casting a shadow across you and cutting off your sun, and partly because you didn't want to acknowledge the pit of jealousy bubbling up in your body when the women threw themselves at Spencer. “Besides, do you really want Spencer on your team for a physical sport?” 

“Y/N has a point, listen to Y/N,” Spencer whined, nodding profusely at your words. 

Derek held his hands up in defeat and walked away, wondering how long it would take the two of you to sort whatever attachment issues you had out. 

When the sun had eventually retreated, and you'd pulled the beach dress you'd bought earlier that day back on, Spencer was still at your side. 

“You know, I think you caught some sun, Spencer,” you giggled, running a hand across his now permanently rosy cheeks and feeling their warmth. “Your cheeks are so red. It's like a grandma just pinched them and held on.” 

“I told you I could look at the sun and burn, and we've been out here all day,” he grumbled, pouting slightly. 

You beamed up at him, though. You hadn't forced Spencer out. In fact, you'd been fully prepared for him to stay inside all day reading. But when he asked you your plans at breakfast, he'd asked to join you, and you hadn't protested in the slightest. 

Walking slowly back to the main part of your resort, you softly hummed the music that travelled from the outdoor beach bar. The music had been constant throughout the day, and you swayed your hips in time to the music as you walked. 

“Y/N…” Spencer started, a few paces behind you. You turned to look at him. His usual wardrobe wasn't exactly the most beach friendly attire, so you'd hunted down a pair of board shorts and a short sleeve button down when you'd bought your dress that morning. You thought they'd hang awkwardly off him, but he filled them out surprisingly well. As he spoke, though, you found yourself unconsciously moving forward to straighten a wrinkle in his shirt.

 “I think Rossi, Hotch, and Prentiss mentioned they were going to get drinks in the bar this evening. Do you want to go, too?” 

Your hand stilled on his chest, and you looked up at him. It was golden hour, and the sun had halo'd him perfectly in its dying rays, showing off its beauty one last time. 

You had to recapture the breath you'd hiccuped out when he'd held your gaze, willing your heartbeat to stay somewhat normal. 

“Oh, great! That sounds like fun, I was just thinking about how I wanted to dance.”

“I know,” he whispered softly as you turned away cheerfully. You almost didn't hear it, and though you desperately wanted to turn around and ask him why, you continued ahead toward the twinkling lights of the bar. 

Three hours later, you were in your cups. You'd worked hard on your case throughout the week, and now it was time for distraction. 

Besides, you knew that sun and alcohol weren't always the best pairing, so you'd stayed hydrated on the beach. Now the sun had gracefully set, you were happy to enjoy a glass or two of your liquid joy. 

Pulling Spencer Reid onto the dance floor in front of all your coworkers was just another symptom of your piña colada buzz, and he followed you with a small hesitation and a small laugh of protest. 

“Y/N, I can't dance.” 

“Shhhhhh, you don't have to dance, you just have to sway. Just sway.” 

“By my definition, swaying is dancing.” 

You rolled your eyes at him but pulled his hands around your waist always. Your coordination faltered, though, and you landed awkwardly high on your body. Without a care in the world for the trail of fire you were igniting down your back, you slid his hands lower, until his hands were sat nearer to your ass than your hips, and you stepped in. 

With his arms in position, you threw your own around his neck, and absent mindedly began playing with the curls at the base of his neck. 

“Now sway, Spencer.” 

His eyes locked with yours, and he obliged. Your chest had pressed up against his after all, your bodies practically flush, and now that you were moving in time to the music, it was inevitable that he should, too. 

Time travelled quickly as you stood in the glow of each other, laughing and joking about each clumsy step, each bump from other dancers. Your coworkers had each come up to wave a quick goodbye through the night, but you were still there. Still swaying. 

You were sure that his hands had travelled the length of your body, the heat that burned you from inside out having filled your body a millenia ago. 

He'd spun you out a couple times, and you'd giggled in delight at the motion, letting your dress raise and spin in the breeze, and returning to a closer position than before, more intimate somehow each time. 

The two of you were so lost in each other that by the time the DJ was shutting his system down, you hadn't even realised the music had stopped. You were now simply swaying along to the sound of the waves crashing in and out. 

“Y/N,” he finally whispered into your ear as the sun again began to show its head. “Y/N, the sun is coming up.” 

“I know. I think…. I think I don't want to let you go just yet, though.” You kept moving together in that silence for a few more minutes, but now your eyes were locked. 

It wasn't a surprise when his lips touched your own. After all, you'd seen them coming. But the jolt of electricity it sent up your spine stole your breath anyway. 

You opened your mouth to take in some air, and he saw that as welcoming. His tongue tangled with yours as his hand lifted to tip your head back, his back already bent slightly to accommodate your height difference. 

His guiding hand wasn't enough, though, he was still not close enough. 

You subtly lifted your leg and his hand instantly dropped to your thighs, hauling you up into his arms as you wrapped your legs around his waist. 

“Our flight is in six hours,” you panted as his lips left yours, suddenly sober again. “We should get some rest.” 

He nodded in agreement, but he was already walking back to your rooms. You each had your own, but he hadn't relinquished his hold on you yet, and you knew he wasn't going to. 

Good, you thought, because logic be damned but you weren't planning on letting him. 

He carried you like that all the way to his door, as you pressed chaste kisses across his face, head, ears, hair, anywhere you could reach on his body. Places you appreciated because they were beautiful and lovely. 

You longed to kiss everywhere else, too. 

“Y/N, we're here.” He said, meeting your eyes once more. There was an unspoken question there. An invitation to leave if you didn't want this. 

Your answer was a hand in his hair and hips pressed back against his. It was all he needed as he blindly pushed into the room. 

You thought he'd throw you down on the bed, but he was much too gentle for that. 

Instead, he sat himself down, taking care to make sure you were comfortable even as his tongue twisted and writhed against your own. 

With this new position, you could try to relieve some of the tension that had been burning in your body since you'd first pulled his hands to you. Your hips moved in slow circles, pressing down into the now obvious bulge in his pants, picking up speed with each caress of his hand. 

He'd pushed under the hem of your dress, his hands on your bare thighs gripping you tightly as you used his body to get off. 

You both moaned and whined through each wet kiss, the gentleness of your earlier encounters chaste in comparison with the animalistic need pulsing through yourself. 

You nearly growled when he lifted your hips again, but you let him continue his motions as he lay back, guiding your hips higher and higher until you straddled his face. 

“Shit, Spencer-” You lost the words as his fingers pulled the two ties holding your bikini bottoms in place, effectively discarding them and leaving you bare. You gasped as you held yourself above him, but he was strong and insistent.

Wrapping one hand around each of your splayed thighs, he pulled your core to his mouth and began to pleasure you. Your hands jolted to the headboard so you could steady yourself. 

Your dress still remained, spread across the bed and obscuring his face from view as he flicked his tongue against your clit, like a flower decorating the Emerald green sheets of the bed. 

“Spencer, fuck,” his hold on your thighs loosened now that he knee you weren't going anywhere, one hand sliding down to his own neglected cock. 

The looser grip meant you could move, just slightly, and so you began to ride his face. 

You moved your hips back and forth as he flattened out his tongue, and you heard the music that had carried you into the night start up again. 

Your moans were melodic, a tribute to your lust for him, an offering made to show him how truly desired he was. 

You came with a shudder, the full weight of your body falling down onto his tongue, but he didn't stop. 

His tongue started moving again now your hips had twitched to a stop, prolonging your orgasm by an eternity. 

You finally rose up on your knees when you felt a second orgasm begin to build, craving something different this time. 

He didn't come out from under your dress so much as rip the thing off of both of you. 

You'd already rid yourself of your bikini top earlier in the dar, so you sat bare above him as he pulled you again into his lap, his cock now free from his pants. 

Your lips came together again as you hovered over him, his length running through your folds, readying himself for the sweet moment he'd finally be inside you. 

“You taste sweet,” he said before you sucked on his tongue, desperate to taste your joint lust. 

The music played once again as he pulled your hips lower down and sheathed himself inside you, but louder, a crescendo of perfectly resonant notes sounding one after the other. 

You were too lost in it to be any help to him, and he kissed away your fatigue as he lowered you to the bed, gently placing your head on the pillow and smoothing the hair out of your face before pulling out until only the tip of his cock was inside you and again pushing in. 

His rhythm was steady, pulsing through your entire body. You felt the pleasure of his body inside you everywhere as his lips returned to your ear. 

You thought he would talk and say something again, but his teeth found you instead, his to gue licking the spot where your neck met your lobe before he gently nipped the side of your ear. 

He couldn't talk, but he didn't hold back any moans. 

Your whimpers, his groans, the steady rhythm of your hips meeting and pulling apart, the sound of your arousal slick between your legs, all joined together in a symphony of love as your hearts sang to one another. 

“Y/N,” he finally moaned, and hearing your name on his lips like a prayer was enough to send you over the edge. 

“Spencer! I'm cumming again, Spencer. Please don't stop-” You begged even as your body tensed up beneath him. 

He continued that rhythm, not letting your music end until it was absolutely necessary. 

But as the sun shone through the curtains again, you knew you were reaching the end of this song. 

“Where should-” he couldn't form the full question, elbows holding his weight off of you as he held back the full force of his orgasm. 

“P-Pull out,’ you whispered, and he did. 

It took him only a few strokes to find completion on your stomach. He sat back on his knees, mindful not to press his weight back down upon you. You wrapped your legs around his waist and grabbed at him anyway, needing to feel his lips on yours one more time. 

You wondered if your entire life would now be the moments in between his kisses. 

“Y/N, our flight is in 5 hours.” 

“We can sleep on the jet. We can't do this on the jet,” you said pulling his head back down for a kiss as you heard the music start up once again. 

[netherworldpost]

With the various rumors and releases of Tumblr possibly changing how they do things... (gestures to the vague rumor mill)...

Zines.

I really think we as Folks Who Make Things and Folks Who Like Art Writing Poetry Music Comics Other Things need to explore zines. And I mean ZINES. Nothing glossy. Nothing fancy.

Very. Cheap. Zines.

I've been threatening mentioning I was going to create a guide on how I'm going to approach this -- and I'm going to -- but I am also realizing in the writing I Do Things Highfalutin because I am who I am + had a career in graphic design.

Let's talk about how you can make a zine very cheaply and very pretty.

STEP ONE: SUPPLIES

Very bright paper. I like "Astrobrights" because they are absurdly bright. Here is a link in a store I like. I buy a lot of paper and envelopes from them. You can generally find Astrobrights in big box office stores. It prints on laser printers and ink jet and photocopiers.

Very bright envelopes. What's that? Astrobrights has envelopes?! AM I SOLVING PROBLEMS let's not get ahead of ourselves.

Letter paper is 8.5" x 11" and is the most common size in the united states (overseas folk will have to use this advice with a grain o'sea salt and search yer own waters).

A9 envelopes are a letter sheet folded in half.

A2 envelopes are a letter sheet folded in half, then folded in half.

#10 envelopes are your common long envelopes, letter paper folded in thirds.

Pick the size you like.

If you want to get big and fancy, Tabloid is 17" x 11" -- so double a letter sheet. This gets tricky to work with but is neat in sizing.

STEP TWO: ZINE CONTENT

Do you know how to use InDesign or similar program? Use that.

No? Use Google Docs or Word or whatever other program and ramble.

Want something special? Write out some or part with a sharpee or pen.

Mix and match both.

If you are feeling fancy, design it like a booklet -- mock up a sheet of blank paper as if it were a brochure. If not, just design it straight up and down like a letter. There are no zine laws.

STEP THREE: ZINE PRINTING

Print at home on your home printer.

Don't have a printer at home? Print it at work (don't get fired)

Can't? Your local library may be able to help.

You need 1 copy on white paper.

FedEx Office has photocopiers. Your local library may too. Or your job.

Print 1 copy of your zine on white paper and then photocopy the rest onto colorful paper (or white paper, it be yer zine seadog).

Or print everything on the color paper if you have access to free printing, that's fine too.

The photocopy setup is purely "printing tends to cost more than photocopying."

If you want to slash prices, print 2 per sheet and have FedEx office cut them for you, this will cost $1 - $5 depending on how many sheets you are dealing with. This is for when you're doing a LOT of zines at once.

Or use their manual paper cutter yourself for free.

STEP FOUR: ZINE STAPLING

"Long reach stapler" is what I recommend. There are a few varieties. They tend to be $20 - $30.

Or just use 1 sheet!

STEP FOUR: ZINE POSTAGE

A single first class stamp for 1-2 pages. If you get up to 3+, go to the post office and ask them to weigh a comp you have assembled.

This is a guideline.

It's a really good idea to check at least once how much your zine weighs just in general. Post offices have scales. And are pretty. And have stamps.

OKAY ENOUGH LUSTING FOR THE POST OFFICE FROM THE GHOTS POST OFFICE BLOG BACK TO WORK

STEP FIVE: ZINE MAILING

This is actually the most difficult part. Label printers exist with various costs -- if you're starting out? Go with printable labels.

Your office supply shop will have them and they'll have templates you can drop in the customer addresses.

Save yourself time by using this label as the thing that seals the envelope -- don't lick envelopes.

A key tenet to staying in business is constantly reviewing physical (and mental) labor and stressors and reducing them as much as possible.

Return address labels are intensely cheap in literally every online printer, google "return address labels." Make sure you have this because at least a few of your shipments will come back to you.

STEP SIX: ZINE PRICING

Okay here is where we get uncomfortable because we're talkin' coins.

Prices are based on above links. You can get whatever paper you want, so this is guidelines. All numbers rounded up.

Payment processing ($0.30) + $0.05 sheet + $0.15 envelope + $0.66 first class postage = $1.16 base cost

$1.16 + 2.9% of $1.16 payment processing = $1.20

Plus taxes. I'm not getting into tax figures YOU DO THAT (just say 30% for easy math, this is not saying "your taxes are 30% or that mine are" I am saying "I am going to factor 30% for this equation to complete this guide".)

I did not include the mailing label (it will be $0.01 - $0.05 depending on how fancy and how many you buy) because you have the option to just write things and also it fits into the rounding of the above.

If you use Patreon, include your fees. Probably replace the above processing fees with your patreon processing... fees? I don't use patreon I don't know how it works.

Retail option 01: $1.50 - 1.20 = $0.80 gross - 30% = $0.09 / net / zine.

Retail option 02: $2 - 1.20 = $0.80 gross - 30% = $0.56 / net / zine.

Retail option 03: $3 - 1.20 = $1.80 gross - 30% = $1.26 / net / zine.

Should it be $1.50? Should it be $3.00? MORE? LESS?! That is for you to decide. Base it on what your zine contains, how long it takes you to write/draw/etc. it and how you want your flow to be.

STEP SEVEN: ZINE FREQUENCY

When my shop launches, it'll have a zine once a month. We are going to offer a subscription option + a "I just want 1" option.

You can do a zine monthly, or every few months, or whatever.

Keep in mind that the purpose of doing this is to break the dependency on social media marketing.

KEEP IN MIND AS AN AUDIENCE MEMBER TO A CREATOR YOU LIKE THAT THEY ARE DOING THIS TO BREAK THEIR DEPENDENCY ON SOCIAL MEDIA MARKETING.

If you have a lot of energy and an audience that comes to your shop a lot? Consider doing a zine monthly.

If you do not have a lot of energy and/or your audience is tapped for cash frequently? Considering doing 1 zine per season.

Consider 2 zines a year if that works better for you!

NO RULES ONLY JOY

Not sure? Experiment! Be upfront! "This is new. I'm figuring this out. Billionaires are tinkering with these things and we gotta figure something else out."

BONUS STEP: NETHERWORLDPOST.COM

so hi I'm atty and I'm your loud long rambler today

Netherworld Post Office used to be @evilsupplyco and now we are rebranding in prep of relaunching. Same person behind the rambles and comics, new name with a more focus (mail instead of mail + seemingly everything else in experiment)

if you enjoyed this ramble and/or like ghosts, monsters, witches, mermaids, and fun stories and projects focused on cozy Halloween, you may like us when we finish the rebranding and relaunching in autumn 2023.

email sign up (the zine will come when we are open)

WHETHER YOU JOIN MY LIST OR NOT

I really, really, really hope you consider doing a regular, or irregular, zine. Something outside of email, something outside of social media, something that connects I MADE A WEIRD THING and the people who say I LOVE THIS WEIRD THING YOU MADE.

The walls are closing in on free social media as a platform for people who make weird things to build audiences for free or very cheap.

And with that...

netherworldpost.com as one final hat pass

good luck folks

thanks for listenin' to the ol' ghost

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Quiet Ones 3

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You live a quiet life, but your peace is fractured by a chaotic man.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, short!shy!reader

Note: I really gotta finish my paper (don't worry I'm like 3/4 done).

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

The light is there again. Bright, green, searing into your vision as it shines against the wall, weaving in perfectly between the curtains. Every night. Taunting you. And in the morning, gone. 

Can you call it a pattern after only three days?  

You don’t know what to call it. You don’t know what he wants from you. If he wanted to hurt you, he would by now, wouldn’t he? Or is this a sick game he’s playing? Whatever it is, it’s madness.  

You sit up and grab your pillow. You cross the room to the door and close it behind you. You put the pillow on the couch and pull down the folded throw across the back. You don’t expect to sleep out here either but you won’t have to stare at the insufferable dot. 

You lay down on your back and sigh at the ceiling. You stare up at the plaster until your eyes close on their own. Your shoulders are tense, your back too, every muscle in you has been knotted for days. You tried a hot shower, even a bath, but both just made you feel vulnerable. You’ve never been overly comfortable being naked but now you feel as if he can see your every movement. 

You tried some exercises in an effort to loosen up too. Those only made you dizzy due to your lack of sleep and rationing. Those should be a sign for you to rethink your strategy but your only other option is to face the danger. You know better than that. 

You huff as the last gray days pile on you. You open your eyes and bring your hand up to your forehead, trying to rub away the stress. You pause as a gleam flashes over your flesh. You drop your arm back down and raise yourself on your elbows. 

Jeez. 

Right there in the middle of your chest is the dot, rather a sliver of it. You look up as it glints in between the verticle blinds. You drop back down. Fine, whatever, if he’s going to shoot, he should just get it over with. You hate this limbo. It’s easy when you know what you’re waiting for. This is just torture. 

A sudden jarring jingle cuts through the din. You sit up, heart beating. It isn’t the deafening gunshot you expected. The green laser ripples through the darkness as you stagger up to your feet and cover your ears. You follow the blaring noise into the bedroom. 

Your phone lights up on your nightstand, flashing as you cross the space. You grab it and quickly silence it, staring at the screen in confusion. You keep your phone on silent, always. You never really use it for more than your banking and emails. On the screen, you see a map of your neighbourhood and a speck pulsing at the centre; your apartment. Huh. 

You remember dismissing that feature before. Several times when you got the phone it kept offering to set up the ‘find your phone’ app but you figured you wouldn’t need it. Yet, here it is, chiming and chirping at you. It isn’t a coincidence. It’s him. 

You peer over at the window and the green glare pours through. You look down again and find the dot right there. You shake your head and back away, hugging yourself as you flee back into the living room. It’s all so messed up and confusing. You don’t get how this can be happening. 

You go into the kitchen. No windows to haunt you there. You put your phone down and lean on the counter as you hold your head. You blow out a breath and you close your eyes. 

You try not to let yourself ask the questions but you’re so tired, you can’t keep fighting this hard. Who is he? How did he find you? Was that day at the cafe the first? Were you so obtuse that you never noticed him before? Does any of it matter? 

The silence shatters again as your phone erupts in a cacophony once more. You back away and cup your ears. You’ve never done well with noise, especially loud noise, or too much at once. It’s a sort of dissonance that makes your head spin. 

You scramble to grasp the phone, eardrums pulsing, and you hit the button again to hush it. You close out of the app and a notification pops up at the top of the screen. For a moment, you’re confused. The only messages you get are obvious scammers or stupid adverts you need to unsubscribe from. 

‘Get some beauty sleep.’ 

You scowl as you stare at the text. What does that even mean? Even if the number is private, you don’t need to guess. You know it’s him. He’s messing with you. You won’t respond, not even in writing. You delete the conversation entirely and shut the phone off. 

You leave it on the counter and go back to the couch. The laser awaits you. You lay down under it and resign yourself to your fate. The only comfort is he’s still out there and you’re in here. A ripple of fear courses through you as you wonder how long that can last. 

👄

Your mail doesn’t come to your door. It’s left in one of the dozens of metal boxes near the front door. Typically you go down to grab it twice a week. You haven’t gone once in the last six days. You don’t plan on it either. You get digital statements for everything anyhow. 

Yet, that doesn’t stop the special delivery from sliding underneath the door. You’re in your kitchen when you hear the soft whoosh. You go to the doorway and stare at the envelope on your floor as you lazily stir your instant coffee. You’re too tired to react with more than a yawn. 

You think it could be a notice from the building. They usually leave one when they have to do an inspection. Yet, there’s not sign of the rental companies logo and the envelope is black. You doubt they’ve rebranded. 

You sip from your coffee and sit at your desk. You login to the portal and open up a task. You don’t need to worry about all that. You muster all you have left for your daily toil. It’s the one thing you can’t forego; the one thing you share in common with other people, you need money to survive. 

You empty the coffee with careless gulps as you key through several tasks. The hours drag by, the clock ticking in the corner of the screen, second by second, minute by grueling minute. The days don’t matter, they all blend together in this hazy purgatory. 

You’re drawn from your mindless typing by the agonising growl of your stomach. You’re starving. Those times when you do let yourself eat, it isn’t much. Finally, your humanly needs have overcome your lack of appetite. You can’t deny it any longer. 

You return to the kitchen with your empty mug. You go to rinse it and water spurts forth, for just a second, then the pipes grind and run dry. You put the cup in the sink and cross your arm. You march out to the bathroom and try the sink in there with the same result. The faucet in the tub runs a little longer but peters out to a single drip. 

Hm, maybe that’s what the letter’s about. 

You sweep back out and scoop up the envelope. Just bending down makes you see stars. You put it on the counter and go to the cupboard to take out the salted crackers. You unfurl the top of the sleeve and wiggle one out. You munch on the stale square and slip your thumb under the flap of the envelop and tear. 

You put down the crackers and rip open one end of the envelope. You shake out the contents. It isn’t a letter. Just a folded pamphlet with something smaller inside. You unfold the spa booklet to uncover the all-inclusive pass within. You drop both and grip your head. 

Is this some sort of bribe? Bait? He’s trying to draw you out and with what? The worst experience you could think of? The smells, the touching, the people... 

You put it all back in the envelope. You don’t want it. You don’t even want it in your apartment. Your safe space. He’s invading it little by little. He can’t have it.  

You go to the door and shove it back under the bottom. You push it as far as you can and fall back, catching yourself on the wall. Your head hurts, you’re tired, you’re stressed, you’re afraid. You just want everything to go back the way it was. You want to be alone. That’s all you ever wanted. 

👄

You use your phone to authorise the two-factor sign-in to your bank account. You set it aside after confirming and wait for the screen to load. Your heart nearly stops as you see the balance. A few times you came too close to the red but this is not what you’re expecting. There’s about fifty thousand dollars extra. It has to be an error. 

You click on your chequing and bring up the next screen. There is is ‘50,000’ in bold green letters but it doesn’t say where it’s come from, just ‘authorised payment’ next to it. What the heck does that mean?  

Right below it you see your work deposit. That appears as usual. Company name, amount, account number. So what happened? 

You click the chat icon at the bottom of the page and wait for an agent to connect. You go through the typical automated questions; what is your issue? Account number? All of that. When you finally have a representative and explain the extra zeros in your account, the response is only three dots. 

You shake your head. You don’t need this. You have enough going on. Your water’s still out, you’re almost out of coffee, and you haven’t even started work. Halfway through and it feels like you’ve only just started a new week. You frame your face as you await the response. 

‘Hello, miss. Thank you for your patience. We have found no error in this transfer.’ 

You lean back and whine. That doesn’t make sense.  

‘Can I know where the money came from?’ You type. 

‘The payee is listed as London Fog LLC. It appears to be a business payment.’ 

You close your eyes. What? That makes no sense. It... can’t be. 

‘Can you reverse the payment, please?’ You input. 

‘We can attempt to reverse this. This might take a few days to process. We will keep the ticket open until this is done.’ 

‘Thank you.’ 

You close out the chat. That’s as best as you can do. It’s all so weird and you can’t deny the nagging truth. It’s not an error or a coincidence. It’s that stranger. He is playing a very confusing game. 

Your phone lights up and your eyes flit down. You lean in to glimpse the notification before it minimises. ‘Happy hump day <3’. You quickly black out the screen and flip it over. Leave me alone! 

👄

You almost expect the knock on your door. Deep down, you knew it was coming. Noon, on the dot. It’s Wednesday. 

“London Fog express!” He calls through. “Ew, this one’s gone a bit bad.” 

You hear him shifting around before the handle turns without give. He wiggles it and sighs. He huffs and you can tell by his shadow he’s leaning on the door. 

“Look, jellybean, I came all the way here, even burnt myself on this thing,” he says through the door, “you know, I’ve had some late nights...” he pauses as you sit silent, unmoving at your desk. “You don’t have to do more than open the door and take the cup. Promise, I won’t try nothing. I mean, I’ve been pretty patient, haven’t I?” 

You press your fingers to the edge of your desk to keep from shaking. 

“Right, I guess... I haven’t even introduced myself. How forgetful. Name’s Lloyd, but you could call me like L or love bear or... snookums. Something sweet like that.” 

You can’t. You’re going to pass out from absurdity. This man is psychotic. 

“You know, I’m a pretty handsy—handy guy. I could fix that water issue you got going on--” 

Holy cow. How does he know—how could he? He wouldn’t be able to just shut off your water. Right? 

“See, I get you, baby face, you’re the quiet type. You like to keep to yourself. That’s fair but everyone needs someone. I see that now,” he rambles through the door as it groans against his lean, “I didn’t before. Then I saw you and everything changed. It’s me and you, cupcake.” 

You stand and shudder, walking stiffly around the corner and towards the door. You step up and try to see through the peep hole. It’s still black. You exhale and sniff. 

“What do you want?” You croak. 

Silence. The door shifts as he takes his weight off of it. He soles scuff on the other side. 

“Hi,” his voice softens, “how are you, jellybean?” 

You close your eyes. You just want an answer. You cross your arms and rocks, a soothing gesture as your nerves bubble up. 

“Yeah, that’s okay, I know you’re not much of a talker. We balance each other out like that. I’m doing okay, you know? Cafe was a bit crowded but I got your latte. Foam shouldn’t have fallen yet so if you just want to open--” 

“What do you want?” You step closer to the door and raise your voice. 

He scoffs into a hum, “isn’t it obvious, babes?” 

You open your eyes and bit your upper lip. 

“You, baby cakes. Simple as that,” he drawls, “so why don’t you grab your tea and we can have a little sit down.” 

“Go away.” 

He huffs and clicks his tongue, “don’t be like that, sweetie.” 

“I don’t know you--” 

“I’m Lloyd, your love bear--” 

“Stop. I want you to leave me alone.” 

Another sharp exhale from the other side. A lull that prickles across your skin. 

“I can’t do that.” 

You wince, “please...” 

“All you have to do is open the door, jellybean. You know I’m a good guy. I’ve been looking out for you. Every night,” something drags down the door. “You can’t lock yourself away forever.” 

You step back and lean on the wall weakly. He’s delusional and you’re so tired. You’re almost tempted to open the door just to get it over with. You sink down onto your butt and hug your knees. 

“No.” 

That’s all you say. It’s all you can eke out.  

He taps on the door lightly and sucks his teeth. “Well, guess I gotta amp up my game.” 

[kulapti]

Aug 2023, bookbinding of The Silent Isle Imbowers by Tharkuun.

I’m sooo so so pleased to finally share this! I have been actively working on this for many months and waited until Tharkuun received her copy before posting so the final result would be a surprise.

-----------About this bookbinding under the cut

This binding has been one of the more elaborate pieces I have attempted so far. This has been my first binding where I (1) made three copies of a piece at once, (2) used a modified a historical illustration, (3) collaborated directly with another artist on the decorative elements, (4) finished matching art for the cover and title page, and (5) layered paint and heat-transfer vinyl for the covers. These are also (6) the first non-tiny books I have made with this style of hinge and cover attachment.

Pretty much immediately after I first read this story I felt I had to make myself a copy of this. I had a strong mental image of a vintage-looking cover for a fairy tale, with a deceptively simple design of flowers on the cover, probably with fancy metallic accents, the kind of thing you’d find in an interesting used bookstore with no summary, no text on the back, no dust jacket, just the flowers and maybe a title. I’m going to make a separate post about making this cover design a reality because oh man has it been a journey lol! I designed and drew the digital art for the cover (digital because of the cut and application method), as well as the corresponding title page illustration (pencil and dip pen, scanned, title added digitally).

When I asked Tharkuun about it she was excited to suggest I get in touch with quillingwords, who generously agreed to collaborate with me! Among her talents quilling writes calligraphy, and hand wrote both the book title and chapter headers for me to incorporate into my plans. Check OUT those chapter headers! So fancy! A font could never!! Quilling has also been very encouraging and let me yell about this project in dms for months so the final result could be a surprise for Tharkuun. Thank u so much quillingwords, your calligraphy adds invaluable amounts of swag to this project.

I was going to do some kinda neat font for the chapter headers, but quilling’s work is too cool for that and I decided to use a modified piece of a historical illustration instead. The illustration also happens to be cool as heck: I was browsing the Artstor database (an academic quality resource available for free via Jstor, my beloved) and found E. N. Neureuther's 1836 gorgeous etching for etching of the fairy tale Briar Rose, an illustration made for a printing of a Brothers Grimm recorded German fairy tale with Sleeping Beauty elements. Much to my delight this illustration not only matches the general look I wanted but is actually relevant to the story, itself a Sleeping Beauty spinoff.

Slightly less stylistically consistent are the endpapers, which are prints of two different paintings by Arnold Böcklin: Isle of the Dead (1883) in the front and Isle of Life (1888). The first painting had occurred to me as an excellent visual to go with the story, and Tharkuun and I discussed this and agreed that pairing it with the related later, more optimistic piece was too thematically appropriate to resist.

I had fun and learned a lot making these books and I am very pleased with the result!!

Materials: Archival bookboard, cardstock, cotton cheesecloth mull, archival PVA glue, linen thread coated in beeswax, paper cord, red cotton embroidery floss. Blue cotton backed with archival paper, acrylic paint, machine cut black and gold heat-transfer vinyl. Laser printed text and illustrations. Metallic scrapbooking paper.

[hbdttg]

Part 1 / tag list below the cut

“I’m quitting,” Eddie declares, “I’m out. Call me a tree, ‘cause I’m leaving. Call me a banana, ‘cause I’m splitting. T-t-t-t-that’s all, folks!” he adds, doing his best impression of Porky Pig’s signature stammering.

Chrissy’s laser focus doesn’t stray from her monitor, even when Eddie bodily throws himself into the chair across her desk with a long, strangled groan. Wordlessly, she raises her left index finger at him in a silencing gesture. With her brows furrowed in concentration, she drags her mouse around on its pad and double-clicks something on her screen before nodding decisively to herself. After another few clicks, she finally lowers her finger, raises her eyes, and meets Eddie’s gaze.

“Would you mind grabbing what I just printed? Please?” she asks, smiling at him imploringly.

Chrissy could ask Eddie to bleach his hair and shave off an eyebrow and he’d do it. She’s actually who he has to thank for landing such a cushy job with HHH—a referral from a trusted associate like her goes a long way in a place like this.

And despite Eddie’s many complaints about becoming a corporate sellout, he can’t deny that it certainly has its perks. The office is only a ten-minute commute from his apartment, the compensation agreement he signed amounted to more money than his last two jobs combined, his benefits package is frankly ridiculous, and he gets to work with one of his best friends in the world. Overall, not a bad gig.

Even so, he makes a show of sighing, loud and longsuffering, before doing as Chrissy asks, leaving her office to grab her job off the printer. Eddie knows she works in HR and some of her stuff can get pretty confidential, so he doesn’t even try to skim the contents of the page as he walks it back over to her.

“Here,” he says, thrusting the paper at Chrissy facedown.

“Thanks!” she says. She makes no moves to take it from him. “That’s for you, actually.”

Curious, Eddie takes the paper back and flips it over. In the center of the page is a graphic of safety sign one might find in a cartoon factory, though Chrissy had edited the original from “[___] Days Since Last Accident” to “[___] Days Since Eddie Last Threatened to Quit His Job”. There’s a big red zero in the counter box.

Eddie tries to glower down at Chrissy, but it’s sort of hard to maintain when she bursts into laughter. It’s been years, but the sound of Chrissy laughing like this, all bright and breathless and unrestrained, never fails to transport him back to his (third) senior year of high school, when they first became friends over a failed drug deal.

“Don’t be cute,” Eddie says with a laughable lack of authority, dropping heavily back down into the chair.

“Do you know who you’re talking to?” Chrissy counters, brow raised archly.

Eddie rolls his eyes, crumpling the page into a ball and lobbing it in between them.

Chrissy lets the ball land harmlessly on her desk before sweeping it into the trashcan by her feet.  “Just so you know, I’ve had that saved on my desktop since Monday—and I haven’t had to edit the days count a single time.”

Eddie scoffs, but it’s hard to defend himself when this current visit marks the fifth day in a row he’s floundered into her office, vainly announcing his resignation. “Yeah, well,” he says weakly, “printing it seems like a gross misuse of company resources.”

“What are you going to do, report me?” Chrissy says with a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.

“Let me guess: you’re the one who receives those reports?” Eddie says dryly.

“Yep!” she says cheerfully. “Now, go on and tell me about your latest trainwreck of an interaction with Steve Harrington.”

“Christ, Chris!” Eddie hisses, leaping to his feet and immediately spinning around to check if anyone was around to hear her damning words. The coast is clear, luckily, but he still scrambles to shut her office door before falling back into his chair. “You can’t just go around saying his name all willy-nilly.”

“He’s not gonna suddenly appear if you say his name three times, Eddie. See, watch. Steve. Steve. St—”

“Don’t risk it!” Eddie squawks loudly, cutting her off.

“You’re an absolute mess,” she says through a laugh, shaking her head at him.

And well, Chrissy’s not wrong.

Eddie’s been a mess since Monday morning, when he unknowingly produced, directed, and starred in The Roast of Steve Harrington. He blames his shitty memory for forgetting what floor his new office was on—if he’d known he was sharing the elevator with someone he could have potentially worked with (let alone someone whose surname made up a third of the company name), he wouldn’t have opened his big, fat mouth in the first place.

When he finally gathered the courage to make it back down to the fifty-second floor and show his face at the HHH office, he kicked off his onboarding with Chrissy with a strangled, “I know it’s my first day and I technically just started ten minutes ago, but I quit. Thank you for the opportunity and good-bye forever.”

Chrissy, the traitor, spent a full five minutes laughing in his face over his shamefully recounted story before patting him twice on the head and informing him he wasn’t allowed to quit for at least six months. The overly saccharine tone of her voice alone told Eddie there was no room for argument there.

Still, that didn’t stop him from following her into her office after the all-hands meeting on Tuesday, all the while whining in her ear, “I can’t thrive in these conditions, Chrissy. Please, I beg of you—accept my sincere and humble resignation from this cursed hellscape.”

‘These conditions’ consisted of any rooms and/or conversations that contained Steve Harrington. Eddie hadn’t been expecting to see the guy doting over the catering when he walked into the conference room that afternoon, and he certainly wasn’t expecting his supervisor and trainer, Murray, to lead him over to Steve to introduce the two of them (though that was likely just an excuse to head straight for the sandwiches that were laid out for the meeting).

While Eddie choked on his own tongue trying to spit out some generic, inoffensive greeting, Steve merely watched him with an amused smirk before thrusting his hand out and offering a perfectly friendly “It’s nice to meet you, Eddie, I’m Steve”, as if Eddie didn’t have Steve’s name and face (and stupidly fit body—who the fuck looks that good in a pair of khakis?!) burnt into his memory from the day prior.

Afterward, Murray, who most assuredly did not have a filter of any kind, bluntly commented on Eddie’s awkwardness, then spent the next five minutes trying to determine if it was normal, strangers-meeting-for-the-first time awkwardness, or something more sensational. Eddie stubbornly kept his mouth shut until the meeting started.

Wednesday followed a similar pattern, with Eddie flouncing into Chrissy’s office with a dramatic “I choose to break my blood oath. At this point I’d welcome the sweet release of death if it meant I didn’t have to work here anymore.”

Chrissy just corrected him, patiently explaining that he was employed at-will, rather than by blood oath, and that if he left before his sixth month, she’d personally skin him alive. Eddie had to pause and weigh the pros and cons of being skinless. Surely it couldn’t be worse than his latest exchange with Steve—via email this time, mercifully.

He’d just learned how to field helpdesk tickets and received one from Steve Harrington himself. It was a simple enough software request ticket, so he assigned it to himself and replied with next steps, asking Steve for a code so he could remote into his computer and install the program.

Steve replied back, asking where he was supposed to find the code. It was an innocuous enough question, but then Eddie noticed something a little off about his email signature: his last name was bolded.

Eddie ignored it, assuming it was a stylistic choice—nothing to read into, surely—but then Steve sent another email shortly after to let him know to disregard his last email; he’d found the right app and was just waiting for it to generate a code. This time, Harrington was bolded and at least two sizes bigger than his first name.

Then, in Steve’s third email, sent not a minute later with the requested code, Harrington was bolded, two sizes bigger than his first name, and highlighted yellow—a tactic Chrissy found so hilarious that she had to shoo Eddie out of her office with tears in her eyes so that she could compose herself and actually get some work done.

Thursday was a blessed reprieve from Steve’s unique brand of psychological warfare, but Eddie still somehow managed to royally humiliate himself in front of him. After he slunk into her office and silently pushed a scribbled-on napkin across her desk—

Please accept this letter as my formal resignation from my position as Systems Analyst II at HHH, effective immediately. Effective yesterday. In fact, I’ll pay you back the entirety of my wages earned if we just forget I ever worked here.

—Chrissy tutted at him sympathetically before taking the napkin and reaching over to dab it at the large wet stain on his shirt.

He’d been walking back to his desk from the breakroom when he rounded a corner and bumped into Steve in the hallway. Literally bumped into, bodily contact and surprised yelps and everything. And it probably wouldn’t have been such a big deal, really, if not for the fact that he had a newly refilled mug of coffee in his hand.

“Eddie, oh my god, are you okay?”

No, Eddie wasn’t okay, because he just splashed himself with hot fucking coffee and now Steve Harrington was worriedly fussing over him and tentatively trying to mop up the liquid with his own fucking hands for some reason, and he was embarrassed (and a little turned on?) and he had to get the fuck out of there now.

“I’m okay, sorry, it’s fine—” he managed to squeak before whirling around and scurrying to the bathroom.

So yes, Eddie’s been an absolute mess the past few days, and today is no different.

…Actually, scratch that. Today is different. Today is worse.

“Okay, now spill,” Chrissy says. “What happened?”

With another drawn-out, pitiful groan, Eddie sinks down in his seat and lets his neck hang off the backrest, blinking up at the ceiling.

“Talk to me, Eds,” Chrissy says, concern starting to bleed into her voice. “If he’s actually bullying you, you can file a complaint. I have a form here somewhere.”

Eddie hears her open one of her desk drawers and reluctantly sits up. “He’s not bullying me, Mom,” he says with a huff. “We actually…we talked.”

“You talked?” Chrissy asks, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, about the elevator. Buried the hatchet and everything. I said sorry, we laughed about it, it’s over and done with.” Eddie’s gaze darts around Chrissy’s desk, searching for something to distract him from the warm and fuzzy feeling growing in his stomach at the memory of their conversation.

“That’s great, I’m so proud of you!” Chrissy says cheerfully. “But wait, if you two are good now…”

Eddie doesn’t want her to ask what she’s about to ask, because the answer might be more embarrassing than all of his other Steve stories combined.

“Why are you still going on about quitting?”

Eddie drops his face into his hands, feeling totally and utterly pathetic. “Um, because I think I’m sort of, kind of, just a little bit…in love with him?”

-------------------------------------

tbh I didn’t think I’d be writing a second part, but if strangers on the internet validate me enough, I guess I’ll do anything~

Y’ALL. I’m blown away by the response to part one of this silly lil au. I didn’t reply to any of the lovely comments or tags, but please know if you engaged in any way (or even if you just read the fic and snorted a little through your nose at a bit you found funny) I love you with my entire heart and you’ve made my entire life.

[Now for the tag list, which I’ve never done before. Sorry if you didn’t actually want to be on here! Or, sorry if you’re stumbling upon this post on your own after asking to be tagged and I missed you oops.]

@messrs-weasley @n0-1-important @bornonthesavage @thing-a-ling @eddiemunsonswife @changenamelater @ispyblu @thesuninyaface

@invisibleflame812 @4nemo1egend @ikolanatari @mavernanche @songbird-garden @trashpocket @original-cypher @over7joyed 

@commonxsenss @justdyingontheinside @mojowitchcraft @maya-custodios-dionach @justmiiriam @imzadidragonfly @lillemilly @gay-stranger-things @child-of-cthulhu @bleedingoptimism @lemanzanabizarra @melaniehere91

@iswearitsjustme @silver-snaffles @csinnamon-fox @paint-music-with-me @epicsteddieficrecs @sweetcreaturetm @hxneyfarms @bossyknow-it-all @vecnuthy @stevethehairington @anything-thats-rock-and-roll @nburkhardt

@gayngerthings @patchworkgargoyle @violetsteve @henderdads @2btheanswertothequestion

[sheltiechicago]

Studio Ibbini Juxtaposes Negative Space and Botanical Filigree in New Laser-Cut Paper Works

Artist Julia Ibbini and computer scientist Stéphane Noyer of the Abu Dhabi-based Studio Ibbini (previously) continue to collaborate on intricately constructed works that fall at the intersection of art and mathematics. The duo creates vessels and flat pieces by layering laser-cut papers into complex structures replete with floral filigree and ornate patterning.

[sits-bound]

My bookbinding tools and stuff

I started binding in July 2023, so I'm certainly no expert, but in case you're interested in what I use to create my binds…

I use Adobe InDesign to typeset and Illustrator for graphics

I print on an old Canon laser printer for black and white and an Epson ET-3830 inkjet for color

I purchase my shortgrain paper from Church Paper (for folios) and the long grain paper I use for quartos is just whatever (nothing special)

I love my punching cradle and guide that I got off etsy.

I use this thread (that I wax with beeswax) for sewing signatures

I love this cardstock for endpapers (Craft Consortium ink drops)

I like this bookboard (in black specifically)

I use these tools for spacing and squaring when creating covers

Everything gets stuck together with this glue. (GET THE POINTY TOP!)

I have an old Silhouette Cameo for cutting vinyl and applying foil to bookcloth (with this pen)

I use this foil quill for freehanding

I apply laser toner foil with this Scotch laminator

I have a thermal binding machine from Amazon and I use these glue strips with it

I have this guillotine (but I don't recommend black for visibility reasons)

I have purchased bookcloth from Hollander's, Colophon, and Amazon

Get this head and bond if you want to make your own bookcloth

I make ribbon bookmarks with charms like these and these crimps.

I get positive feedback and help and kindness from @renegadeguild

Caveat: These are just the tools and supplies I use. I am not an expert. I'm a hobbyist who is relatively new to it. Some of the things I use might be "wrong" but every book I've made works, so who cares?

If you want to see what it looks like when I bind something, here's a short video.

[feelmyskinonyourskin]

Cure [Sex Pollen Trope]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x AFAB Reader x Frank Castle

Trope de Sept Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Sex Pollen Situation 1. A fictional substance that makes the characters experience unbearable pain if they don't fuck. "You, Bucky, and Frank are exposed to a strange chemical in an abandoned Hydra warehouse. And there's only one way to make the effects wear off faster."

Warnings: SMUT/18+ (don’t interact if your age is not in your bio). No use of Y/N. AFAB Reader. Implied sexual assault of and by Bucky during his time as the Winter Soldier. Implied past/current casual sexual relationships between the Reader/Bucky and Reader/Frank. All the dubious consent circumstances that come with sex pollen. Unprotected P in V, threesome, breeding kink, creampies, multiple orgasms, pet names (baby, doll, sweetheart, honey). 

WC: 3,200

A/N: Trope de Sept order got a little shuffle. Don't worry, everything is still coming, I just wanted to space out characters, fic types, etc. now that I have a better idea of what the rest of the fics will be.

*I never give permission for my fics, manips, or any other original creation I post on this site to be copied, posted elsewhere, translated, or fed into any AI program. The only platform I currently post anything on is Tumblr. Thanks!*

How you and Bucky managed to get separated from the rest of the team, you weren’t sure.

The Hydra base was recently abandoned. Tipped off that the Avengers were on their way, they scrambled to make their escape, leaving miscellaneous papers, weapons, and other evidence of guilt behind.

You certainly weren’t going to take anyone in on this, but at least you’d have some clues that could maybe point to where they’d be next.

You and Bucky made your way into some kind of lab, the rest of the team raiding other areas of the base. Coms were down, but you weren’t too concerned as there seemed to be no threat that required back up. Hydra left this place abandoned and disheveled due to their hastened exit.  

“Shit. There’s no one here.” Bucky lamented, sending a set of empty beakers crashing to the floor in frustration

“Not no one, but sure as shit ain’t Hydra.” a gravelly voice cut through the darkness of the lab

You and Bucky turned to the source; a tall figure attached to dusty combat boots, vest dripping with white paint smears and long-ago dried blood splatters. He wore a scowl on his tired face, a bruise covering the left side of his jaw, and had a rifle slung over his shoulder.

“Castle.” Bucky nodded toward him

“Barnes. Sweetheart.” he nodded back to the two of you

“I’m sorry– sweetheart? How do you two…” Bucky asked, pointing between you and Frank.

“Remember when you said I should get a hobby? You know when weeks go by and there are no missions?” you said

“I meant like, take up pickleball or crocheting; not get sexually involved with vigilantes.”

“Hey, hey!” Frank rebutted

“Woah!” you also interrupted Bucky’s implication “Who said anything about me sleeping with him? No, I started taking on some– let’s just call them personal cases outside of work. You know, using my powers to be the everyman's hero. I run into Frank on rooftops sometimes.”

“So your hobby is being a superhero, when you’re not at work being a superhero?”

“I mean sometimes we also sleep with each other.” Frank added

Frank was lucky your powers didn’t involve laser vision, or else he’d be burnt to a crisp by the way you glared at him.

“Really, doll? Castle?”

“You know what Bucky, I don’t need judgment from someone who's dating pool includes all four of the Golden Girls. Wait, how do you two know each other?” you motioned between him and Frank

“A mutual friend of ours, Curtis Hoyle, runs a veterans therapy group once a week. It usually also turns into a poker game at my place afterwards.”

“Wilson joins sometimes too.” Frank added

“Didn’t think this was your scene, Castle,” Bucky said, bringing the subject back to the mission “Thought you worked alone. You’re not thinking of joining up are you?”

Frank scoffed. “Nah. Following a lead. Led me here.”

“To a world wide terrorist orginization’s base?”

“You’d be surprised how many of the street level scumbags I chase down are involved in shit like this.”

“So you came here to go all Punisher on them?”

Frank raised an eyebrow and nodded.

“Sure, the Avengers have been playing whack-a-mole with them for years, but the vigilante with a rage problem and a bunch of guns is gonna do it.” you said with a roll of your eyes.

“Fairness to me, didn’t know just what this place was til I got here.”

Bucky let out a deep exhale. He glanced between you and Frank, before returning his focus to the abandoned lab around you.

“Well you’re here now, might as well make yourself useful.”

The three of you looked high and low through the lab and turned up nothing of real value that could even be a glimmer of a lead on what Hydra was planning next or where they had scurried off to.

Bucky used his vibranium arm to bust open the door of a locked walk-in freezer, the last place it seemed you hadn’t searched.

Various test tubes and bags of medical supplies sat on the shelves, some full of odd looking substances, others spilled over and shattered from Hydra’s escape efforts.

Frank walked up to a shelf containing vials of cherry-colored liquid, picking one up in his large hand and examining it curiously.

“Don't touch that!” Bucky exclaimed, lunging forward just as Frank turned his head

Their bodies collided, sending the glass canister spinning into the air and crashing down to the ground. The red substance splashed all over the concrete floor and tiny fragments of glass flew in every direction.

“Castle, please tell me you didn’t just do that.”

“The hell you mean, me? You’re the one who pushed me!” Frank argued back

Bucky’s panic stricken gaze met yours and you had never seen fear quite like this in his eyes.

“Don't breathe.” he commanded

“What do you mean don’t breathe?” you asked, shaking off some of the liquid that splattered on your boot

“Oh god, no no no. It’s too late. We’ve all already been exposed.” Bucky lamented, sinking to the floor with his head in his hands.

“Bucky, what is that stuff? What is going on?”

“It’s a serum.”

“Like a super soldier serum?”

“Yes. But also no. This one’s effects are temporary. And highly potent. And very airborne.”

“Airborne. Like we all just breathed it in?”

“Yep.” he confirmed

“So what does it do? What’s gonna happen to us?” you asked, panic rising in your chest

“When I was theirs,” he motioned to the room around you, implying his time as Hydra’s prisoner “They realized all their sick experiments finally worked on me and they wanted more super soldiers, to replicate what they’d created in my bloodstream. The problem was, this was right around the time Dr. Zola got captured and arrested by the team that would become Shield.”

You glanced up and down the shelves once more, hoping something in here could be used for first aid in treating whatever the hell was about to happen to the three of you.

“So without their best scientist, no matter how many liters of my blood they took and tried to recreate the serum with, they couldn’t. In a last ditch attempt, they thought maybe it could be transferred genetically, They thought maybe they could use me to breed more supersoldiers.”

Your attention snapped back to Bucky.

“Breed? Wait, so they made you…? Oh my god, with who?!” you asked in horror as Bucky revealed yet another disturbing detail of his past

“Usually volunteers for Hydra’s cause. Sometimes other prisoners; women they also had been doing experiments on.”

“That’s disgusting.” you commented

“Believe me, I’m aware.”

“But what does that have to do with that stuff?” Frank motioned to the mess still splattered on the floor

“Zola’s prodigy, a real peach of a human named Dr. Whitehall, wanted to ensure the maximum possibility my DNA would take and the women participants would be as fertile as possible. I mean, after all this shit they did to me before, they thought maybe my swimmers would be pretty fried and they could create something to remedy that. So that stuff is a concoction he created in the 70s, basically it enhances all sexual urges to their most primal instinct, so those exposed are inclined to reproduce.”

“So it’s horny juice?” Frank asked

“Eloquent as always Castle, but yes. I’d say we have about ten more minutes before it kicks in. Once it does, it’s really painful until it’s out of your system or until you act on what it wants you to.” he turned to you “Okay here’s what’s gonna happen– Doll, you’re gonna go outside and lock Frank and me in this freezer so you’ll be safe from us.”

“Safe from you? What do you mean?”

“This stuff, it kinda alters your self control for a while. Like I said, it makes you run more on instinct, especially when the painful side effects hit. Once it starts kicking in, we’ll do anything to get rid of the pain. Frank and I won’t be able to resist you and you won’t be up for putting up much of a fight either. Get somewhere where our coms will work again and radio to the team, have them get you to Banner’s lab immediately. He might be able to concoct something to ease your symptoms for a few days.”

“A few days?!”

“Well it fades faster if you… ya know. But if you don’t, it could take a while to move through your system.”

“What about the two of you?”

“We’ll just have to… take care of ourselves here.” he said, making lewd gesture with his hand “Won’t be as efficient as the real thing, but it’ll help.” 

“I’m not gonna leave the two of you to just jack off and suffer.”

“Sweetheart, we’ll be fine. Just worry about you.” Frank chimed in, agreeing with Bucky

“If the solution is to… you know fuck it out. I mean shit, it’s nothing I haven’t already done with either of you.”

“Excuse me?” Frank inquired, now the one whipping his head to look between the two of you

“Remember in group a couple months ago when I said I got casually involved with a coworker, but broke it off cause it was getting in the way of our work? Well...” Bucky gestured towards you

“Unbelievable.” Frank grumbled with a shake of his head

You sat on the floor across from Bucky, tac suit suddenly feeling a bit too tight and itchy against your skin.

“This freezer we’re in… it’s still on right?” you asked

“Yeah.”

“Then why do I feel like I’m gonna combust at any minute?”

“It’s the serum. Shit, it’s already taking effect.” Bucky rushed over and crouched down beside you “Doll, you sure you don’t want to get out of here?”

“No. I want to stay. I want to help both of you and I don’t want to go through this alone either.” you said, unzipping your jacket and tossing it across the room without a thought, “Jesus it feels like my blood is on fire.”

You fanned yourself with your hands to no avail. This must have been how your mother felt during your teenage years when she’d lament about hot flashes.

Suddenly, you understood what Bucky meant by pain all over your body. It started small, almost like a needle prick, near your abdomen, but rapidly spread like ink on wet parchment.

Evidence that they were both starting to feel it too was showing; the way Frank’s brows were scrunched and how he was keeled over, hands on his knees with white knuckles gripping at his jeans. Bucky’s supersoldier powers combined with his previous exposures to this substance, he seemed reasonably calm compared to the two of you. His blue eyes were glazed over in a vacant stare as he sat on the ground across from you. Sweat droplets were beginning to form on his unusually pale skin. 

“P–please” you begged to both of them, pain suddenly unbearable as you pushed your pelvis off the floor, trying to find relief with friction against nothing.

You reached out to Bucky, but he shook his head no.

“Take care of Frank first.” he lulled his head to look at you “I’m more resistant to it’s effects. I’ll be fine for a while.”

“How many times do we have to… you know, to get it out of our systems?” you asked, still writhing your body against the air.

“As many times as it takes.” Bucky said

“Frankie” you reached a hand forward, beckoning him towards you.

He stumbled as he crossed the room, still slouched over slightly as he walked.

Frank’s cock was obviously strained against his jeans as he crouched down in front of you, deep brown eyes meeting your gaze.

“Sweetheart, you sure?” he asked once more, resistance to the serum fading quickly as he ran the back of two fingers down your arm, stroking you in reassurance.

As soon as his hand brushed your skin, icy relief washed over you, sending goosebumps along your flesh. You had the irresistible urge to press more of his skin against yours, to be as close to him as possible to quell the heat still bubbling beneath the surface.

All you could do was nod in response as you lunged forward, rubbing your hand along the bulge in his pants. Frank whined, a sound you’d never heard him make in the times you’d fallen into bed together, before crashing his lips against yours.

His kisses were fiery, full of tongue and teeth, like he just couldn’t drink enough of you in. Usually so patient and tender in bed, his large hands were now clawing at you, desperately trying to rid you of your clothes as quickly as he could. 

He tugged off your boots in one motion, allowing you to shimmy your pants down your body. Both of your shirts were quickly discarded as well. Fumbling to unbutton his jeans and push them down, Frank let out a relieved sigh as he finally freed his aching cock. The cool air from the freezer hit your sopping cunt, refreshing as another wave of heat rolled through your body as the serum was now fully in control.

You glanced over to Bucky as Frank laid you down on the hard concrete floor. His eyes were squeezed shut in a mixture of pain and pleasure, flesh hand down his pants stroking himself to quell the growing anguish as he listened to you and Frank. 

“Goddamnit doll, I can smell you.” His breathing was labored as he spoke.

Frank reached down, running a trembling finger through your folds.

“Shit Barnes, of course you can, she’s soaked.”

“P– please Frank” You begged again as Frank touched you where you needed him most, the action unknowingly teasing you into more pain.

“Shhh shh shh sweetheart. I know. It’s hurting me too. I’ll take care of you.” Frank reassured, sliding two fingers into you effortlessly

A strained sob slipped from you as he pumped in and out of you, relieved at the sensation but still in so much agony from not getting what you really needed.

“I think you’re ready.” he commented, barely restraining himself from just taking you roughly

You reached for his shoulders, guiding him fully on top of you. As he lowered himself he slid inside you in one motion, sinking all the way in easily. The serum didn’t allow him any pause, hips immediately snapping in and out with rough thrusts, primal need taking full control. His ample length repeatedly hit that perfect spingey spot inside you, causing you to cry out.

God the sounds in the room were downright sinful. Frank, who had been incredibly verbal during your previous trists, now reduced to only groans and grunts being swallowed by your sloppily placed kisses. Bucky’s lewd moans echoed off the walls and combined with the sound of skin slapping and your mewling. The vulgar symphony only spurred you on. Your peak hit you surprisingly quickly, though you attributed that to the foreign chemical invading your system.

It was like no other orgasm you’d ever had, like those viral videos of a firework finale all accidentally exploding at once. It felt endless, like you’d just be there cumming on the floor for the rest of your life.

“Shit honey, keep squeezing me just like that.” Frank finally found his words, climbing his own summit to relief. His large hand gripped at your jaw, steadying you beneath him as his movements became more erratic, an improvised drum solo of a brutal pace.

His dark eyes met yours, pupils blown out as he watched you come apart beneath him once more. Another overwhelming orgasm washed over you, more intense than the last.

That was enough to drag Frank over the edge with you. He pulsed deep inside you, filling you to the brim so much that you could feel it running down your legs before he even pulled back.

“Goddamnit.” he groaned into your shoulder

Sprawled out on the floor, you were an absolute mess of your own slick and sweat and Frank’s cum, but you didn’t care. You still direly needed more relief and knew Bucky must’ve been in total agony by this point; listening and watching you and Frank go at it.

“How you doing sweetheart?” Frank asked as he rolled off you, now a little more clarity that he’d gotten one orgasm out. You could still see the strained muscles in his neck, his skin still a shade of red as his lust was not yet fully satiated. 

“Better. Still hurts a little but much more bearable. Bucky, you ready to take over?”

He was slumped against the wall, eyes still squeezed shut. His jacket and shirt were gone and his pants were undone. But he’d given up on touching himself, knowing it wouldn’t soothe his suffering in the way he needed. You crawled across the floor toward him.

“Hey Buck? Eyes on me baby.”

His eyes snapped open and looked at you, full of desperation and pity.

“Let me help, yeah?” you spoke sweetly

He nodded, watching limply as you fumbled with his fly and exposed his throbbing length.

A switch seemed to flip inside him as you straddled him and sank down, coming alive with an animalistic fervor as you rocked your hips slowly. He let out a hearty exhale feeling your velvety walls all the way down his cock, finally alleviating the anguish he’d been trying so hard to conceal. 

Every sensation in your body was amplified, every touch of Bucky’s skin against yours was exquisite, every caress of his metal arm up and down your back shot like lightning striking straight to your core. You could feel every ridge of his cock, every thrust, every exhale. Overwhelmed by it all, you collapsed against his shoulder, letting him take the reins as he began to pitch himself up into you. How different he was too in this circumstance than the times previously you’d had him. Long languid strokes to ensure you’d feel it all long forgotten in favor of dragging you down by the hips over and over to meet his pace, every slam punctuated by lust and fury. Muttering ‘oh god’ and ‘yes baby please’ into your ear.

A soft caress brushed along the back of your neck, Frank kneeling behind you placing tender, open-mouthed kisses across your shoulder blades as you and Bucky fucked it out. The urge must’ve been building in him again because his hands were all over you and soon enough you weren’t sure whose grasp was where, only vaguely aware because Bucky’s vibranium touch was cool and calm amongst the heightened temperature of your sweaty skin. 

Your orgasm with Bucky blossomed, rising from deep within your core and spreading like wings in the breeze. You cried into his shoulder as he did not relent in his pace, pulling your pelvises flush as he came inside you with a carnal moan.

But you still weren’t satiated and you could tell neither were they. Fuck, this was gonna be a long night. 

[starcrossedyanderes]

Heart Bound

1.4k words

Warnings: Toxic relationship, Tom is a yandere, blood, unwilling affection, this is SFW

Hey, this is kind of a birthday post for myself. I have adored Tom for the longest time and since the lack of fics, I took it upon myself.

It was a rather quiet day in the library. Almost all of the students of Hogwarts were busy watching a quidditch match, leaving the library nearly empty except for a few extra studious students.

You were currently sat in a more secluded area of the library, diligently taking notes from a textbook and putting it on a scroll.

This section of the library had maybe 3 other students at some desks, all completely engrossed in their schoolwork as well. The only thing of note would be the practical school celebrity, Tom Riddle, being present here.

After your brief observation of the library you turned back to your work, redipping your quill into your inkwell and pulling out a new piece of parchment. But before you put your paper away, you chose to pick it up and look it all over. But, tragedy stuck.

“Ow!”

It would seem your hand somewhat slid against the side of the paper, causing you to get a paper cut. You quickly pulled your hand away with a wince, trying to not get any blood on your fresh notes. You raised your hand up, about to instinctively suck on it.

“Excuse me, (Y/n)”

You look up with a startle, nearly tipping over your inkwell. To your absolute surprise, Tom Riddle had seemingly appeared right in front of you, almost as if he teleported. You let out a small laugh instinctively, as that was your instinct in such a moment

“Riddle, don’t do that. You nearly scared the socks off of me!”

Tom let out one of his pearly white smiles. Ah yes, that smile of his. That smile certainly helped him gain so much popularity and title of Hogwart’s Golden Boy. Tom seamlessly pulled out a chair before sitting in it before propping his head up on his hand.

“Oh, my apologies (Y/n), I assure you I didn’t mean to scare you. I just couldn’t help but notice that you seemingly got hurt.”

His green eyes glowed warmly, as if all of his attention was focused solely on you. You must admit, it was intriguing for him to be so concerned about you. You knew each other, but not well or anything. On occasion you would work with him in potions.

You somewhat waved your hand.

“Oh, yes. Sorry about the noise. Just a paper cut is all.”

Tom stared at your cut, like a cat looking at a laser pointer. For a second you could have sworn his eyes glowed an unnatural shade of green.

“Oh, no need to apologize. It’s only natural to make a bit of noise when hurt. Actually, I was hoping to possibly help your issue.”

You raised your eyebrow.

“Help my issue? You mean my paper cut?”

Tom reached out a grabbed your hand, closely examining the cut.

“Sure, I’ve actually been wanting to practice some healing spells. But I haven’t had the chance since I obviously didn’t want to cause any harm just to practice them.”

You owlishly blinked at him, before letting out a bit of a smile.

“In that case, feel free to. I would never deny a free healing spell.”

Tom slightly traced the cut on your finger, before finally looking you in the eye.

“Oh, but just one thing in exchange. I was needing a few drops of blood for a potion, and since we’re already here..”

You slightly tilted your head, pondering the offer.

“I mean, I guess so. Don’t see any harm in that.”

Tom’s smile widened, to a point you almost felt like a predator was staring at you. But you shook it off. This was Tom, Hogwart’s Golden Boy. He would never do anything bad.. right?

Tom pulled out a small vial that was oddly in the shape of a heart and carefully placed it right under your cut. He slightly pressed against the skin until a few drops of blood spilled into the glass.

“Alright, that should be enough.”

He took out a cork from his pocket that seemed to be modified to be attached to a necklace. He placed the cork into the vial before putting the necklace on. He then pulled out his wand and with a small flick the cut was instantly healed.

“Thanks, although it does seem a bit weird for you to be wearing my blood in a heart vial around your neck..”

Tom smirked

“Oh, yes about that. Follow me to the armchairs in the corner.”

Almost robotically, against your will, you followed Tom over to a rather secluded part of the library where arm chairs and a fireplace were present. Tom gracefully sat himself down in a love seat.

“Riddle, what’s going on?!”

“Sit down in my lap”

Your body once again moved on its accord. Tears somewhat pricked your eyes.

“Tom, please. What’s going on?”

It was like your entire vision was in slow motion. Approaching Tom, seeing his face contort into what could only be described as a shot eating grin. Your body slowly placed itself in his lap, all entirely against your will.

“Wrap arms around my neck.”

Your arms shot up and encircled his neck, as if it was a loving embrace.

“Tom-“ you pleaded once more

“Oh, hush dear. I assure you you are perfectly fine and safe. Actually, if anything I can guarantee you have never better.”

Tom suddenly grabbed your cheeks, turning your face towards his where you stared at each other for what could have felt like hours.

“What a beautiful creature you are.”

He slid his face down to your neck, where he started to place a few kisses.

“Please, I don’t understand-“

“Shush, darling. Let me explain how things are going to be from now.”

Tom briefly pulled away to show you the necklace that currently held some of your blood.

“You see this vial? This vial is enchanted with a spell of my own creation. This charm is one of deep blood magic, quite possibly my finest masterpiece, really. Whoever’s blood is in this vial, I will be able to order around. The blood in your body will quite literally bend to my will, making whoever I see fit to become my own puppet.”

Tears streamed down your eyes upon hearing this. It would seem you finally found out that Tom was a very, very bad person. Upon seeing your tears he let out a bit of a teasing scoff before wiping them away with his thumb.

“Cease this crying. I assure you, no harm will be done to you as long as I own your blood. Now let me explain your new situation.”

Tom quickly placed a few more kisses on your neck before continuing.

“You, my love, are going to be my girlfriend until- let’s see- eternity. You are going to be my precious little darling until I see fit to release you. Which is never, by the way. You and I will be inseparable. We shall act like lovers, because that is what we now are. You shall embrace me, praise me, kiss me, all the things lover are supposed to do. And in return, all of that I shall reciprocate.”

You were so stunned by his words, you could only squeak out a single word in response.

“W-why?”

Tom lackadaisically played with your hair.

“Easy. Because I am absolutely obsessed with you. I can’t those eyes of yours out of my head. And normally I’m repulsed by people expressing such.. kindness but for whatever reason your kind demeanor has.. entrapped me. I simply can’t get you out of my head, my darling. Oh, and that mind of yours. That wonderful, complex, beautiful mind. All the thoughts that race through your head, I want- no simply must have it all.”

You couldn’t help your slight quivering at his affectionate touches and words.

“Oh my sweet, don’t worry. You’ll love being mine, eventually. I’ll take wonderful care of you, and you shall be endlessly adored by me and my.. followers. Later on you can have whatever you desire. It may take a while, but it’ll grow on you. Now, are you ready for my order?”

You vehemently shook your head, but Tom did not hide the fact that he couldn’t care less based off the predatory grin he possessed.

“I want you to love me, not like me, love me. For the next week you are to be as enamored with me as I am. And mark my words my dear, even once that week is up, I will draw your blood again and again until your mind is so in love with me that it becomes permanent.”

[empressdede]

Disrespectful

Chapter one

London’s heels clacked as she walked down the hall, her eyes focused on the paper in front of her. Anyone who saw her and was in her way made way for her to pass through.

It wasn’t easy taking over her father’s company, especially when it was a male dominated career to begin with. But it never stopped her from putting her foot down and letting everyone know that she had what it took, regardless if she was a women or not.

“Excuse me, I’m sorry to interrupt” her assistant, Mariah, stated as she walked beside London. “Your husband’s on line 1.”

London let out a sigh, she wasn’t really in the mood to deal with her husband’s complaining about her always working and taking business trips. She just wanted to finish this day so she can go home and pack for her weekend getaway.

“Okay. Come get me in fifteen minutes to come get me for my 2 O clock meeting.”

Mariah furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. She swore her boss’ schedule was clear for the rest of the day.

“We don’t have a meeting at-“ Her words were cut short with the daring glare from London. “It must’ve slipped my mind, won’t happen again Mrs. Murphey.”

“It’s London.” She corrected quickly before walking into her office to pick up the awaiting call.

“Hello love.” The excitement in her voice was very fake, but she figured she’d faked it enough times that it sounded like her regular happy tone.

A deep chuckle was heard through the phone that caused her to really smile.

“I haven’t heard from you all day and all I get is a fake ‘hello love’?”

“I’m sorry baby, your calls are supposed to go straight through to my office or Jada’s. I miss you.” She sighed, this time longingly.

“I miss you too and this weekend it’s just going to be us. We’ll go wherever you want to go, get away from all the white noise and I can take care of you.”

“I hear Singapore is nice this time of year.”

Another chuckle ran through him again, it was no secret that London’s next desired vacation spot was Singapore, she’s been talking her ear off about it since her sister came back from her own trip a couple months back.

“I already booked the room for our hotel, I texted Paul to get the jet prepared for everything. When you finish work, pack your bags and come see me at work. We’ll go straight after.”

And that was all she really needed to hear.

London laid her head back onto his shoulders as she caressed Roman’s arm. They both were relaxing in the tub after fucking their brains out all over the hotel room. Her eyes were laser focused on the ring around his finger, the gold jewelry looked good against his skin.

Her eyes slit over to the ring that was placed on her own hand. The ring always shined in the hotel lights the brightest.

She moved her hands to interlock their fingers, his gold ring settling right to her silver one.

She smiled at the memory of how their day started. After the jet had landed, Roman was quick to hurry and get them to the hotel so that he could really take care of her the way he desired to.

“My wife and I are celebrating our one year anniversary.” Roman had told the receptionist when she asked if their stay would be for business or pleasure.

“Whatchu thinkin about?” Roman had asked to break the silence that had filled the bathroom.

A lazy smile spread across London’s face. “You…. Us.”

Roman let out a small hum of acknowledgment, his hands rubbing her legs. “What about us?”

“How we’re perfect for each other.” London had replied. Roman pressed a kiss to her temple, trailing it down her face from her cheek till he reached her neck.

London moved her head to allow him more access to her neck as she let out a sigh. This reminds her of their activities from not even 20 minutes ago.

“Fuck Roman I’m bout to cum” she had announced as he continued to poke at her spot.

Roman’s forehead stayed placed on London’s as he watched as he took her there. Hair sticking to her brown skin, sweat making her body shine under the hotel lights - she was beautiful like this and it was because of him.

“C’mon baby, cum on daddy’s dick. It’s yours right?”

“Yessss”

“So cum. Let ‘em know how I’m making my wife feel.” Roman rasped in her ear and London came with a cry.

Their hands interlocked above her head as their mix matched rings were placed next to each others. It didn’t matter though, it never mattered because even though their rings were tied to their own marriage…. It didn’t stop them from claiming each other as husband and wife.

“I love being here. With you in my arms, traveling the world with you, I love you.” Roman claimed, raising his arms to wrap it around her body.

“I love you more. And one day, once the smoke in the mirror’s clear up; one day I wanna wear your ring instead.”

These moments were the moments London kept close to her heart. Was it wrong to love another man other than her ‘husband’? Maybe. But in her mind, those marriage documents meant nothing, Roman was her husband as much as she was his wife.

She never tried to hide him either. If they were out in public and anyone seen, they never cared. Roman was who her heart called out for, and there wasn’t a person in the world who could take that away from her.

Not James, her documented husband and surely not Tiara, his documented wife.

____________________________________

London had met Roman five years ago, at a mutual friend’s wedding. At first, her first instinct was to cuss out the person who bumped into her, making her spill the expensive champagne on her equally expensive dress.

London took pride in dressing to impress, and for someone to just bump into her as if they were being careless around her didn’t sit right with her. The curses she was going to fly in the mysterious persons way died on her tongue when she made eye contact with who the person was.

Roman Fuckin Reigns.

To say he was fine was an understatement. Dressed in an all-black fine wool Dior suit, Santos de Cartier watch on one wrist, gold wedding band on his finger. He screamed big dick energy and that stopped her angry turmoil right in it’s tracks.

It had taken her a moment to compose herself; still finding herself tongue tied as he got napkins and helped usher her to the bathroom to clean up.

Imagine her surprise when she seen he waited for her to get herself together.

“I’m sorry, I really didn’t see you. Lemme pay for the dry cleaning bill for you.” He had offered and London raised an eyebrow at his offer.

Before she could reply, she heard someone call his name and a gorgeous woman approached.

She was a baddie. Form fitting dress, buss down jet black middle part lace front, and plush lips. She looked London up and down like she was a fly getting too close to the food at a barbeque.

“Babe, I was looking for you everywhere.” The women stated, her hands moving to clutch onto Roman’s upper arm.

“I’m sorry baby, I had accidentally bumped into…” He trailed off looking back at London as he realized he never got her name.

“London. London Murphey.”

He gave her a curt head nod. “Right, well London, I’m-“

“Roman Reigns, and I’m his wife; Tiara Reigns.” His wife had cut in to introduce herself and London bit back her laugh.

“I accidentally bumped into her and she spilled Champagne on her dress.” Roman finished explaining and London nodded her head, agreeing with him.

“Your husband was just offering to take care of the dry cleaning bill. And since this is a custom from Dolce and Gabbana, I’ll be taking you up on your offer.”

London had pulled her business card out of her clutch purse and told him to call during her official business hours so they could set something up.

London flashed Tiara a friendly smile, seeing as the women obviously didn’t like her talking to her husband. She lifted her left hand to show off her own, silver wedding ring. “Now, I’ll be off to find my husband.” She stated before bidding them goodbye and strolling right past them.

The orange of her dress looked really good against her skin complexion. The melanin really popped with the dress and Roman couldn’t help but stare. Not that anyone could blame him, London is a beautiful woman.

London on the other hand, even after finding her husband, couldn’t keep her eyes from wandering to the corner where Roman kept himself. Damn he’s fine. She thought to herself every single time she looked. A couple times their eyes would catch each other’s and a teasing smile would be formed on both their faces. It was obvious they found each other attractive.

Now usually her panties didn’t get wet for a married man, especially seeing as she is married herself. But when Roman had called two days later to settle the bill for dry cleaning, she couldn’t stop herself from engaging with him; especially when it seemed like he was flirting with her.

He paid for the dry cleaning and even went out of his way to buy her another dress, for her troubles.

“You know you didn’t have to go through all that trouble of buying me another dress.” London stated kindly with a smile.

Roman smirked, “Oh, it wasn’t any trouble at all. A beautiful women like you deserves to be in a beautiful dress like that.”

London had bit her lip, walking around her desk to stand in front of him.

“It’s just such a shame you’ll never see it on me… ya know… since it’s such a beautiful dress.”

“Who says I’ll never see it on you?”

“I do. Unfortunately for you, this’ll be the last time you look this beautiful woman in her face.”

Roman let out a hum, as if he understood. But he didn’t move, he kept his eyes on the women in front of him. She displayed her confidence very well, but her eyes couldn’t hide the fact that she found him attractive as well.

“Let’s go to dinner. Not only did I ruin your dress but I spilled the rest of your champagne. Let’s go to dinner and that’ll be the last time you see me.” Roman stated with a small smile, he didn’t know what it was about her that made him wanna see her, but he knew he wanted to see her again. And as beautiful as she is, he wouldn’t cross that line with her…. He’s married after all.

“Dinner? Roman I’d hate to be the one to remind you that I’m married.” London reminds.

“I’m not asking you to go to dinner as a date Mrs. Murphey, I’m asking to be friendly. We can have a friendly dinner can we not?” He asked, an eyebrow raised at her almost challengingly.

Well, if anything it beats not having any plans for the weekend. And who was she to turn down free food.

“Alright Reigns. Friendly dinner.” She confirmed, nodding her head at him.

“Perfect. I’m free on Thursday, at 8. I’ll have my driver come get you.”

“Okay. Thursday at 8. Don’t be late.”

“I won’t.” He promises and the room goes still as they stare at each other again.

It wasn’t until Jada comes in to tell London that she has 10 minutes before her next meeting, that they finally broke eye contact.

And it was no surprise on anyone when London actually wore the dress to the dinner; he did buy it for that purpose of course. Roman knew the dress would look divine on her and with the way his eyes trailed over her body as she walked to the table, he knew he made the right choice.

____________________________________

Albeit their strong attraction to each other Roman and London didn’t cross that line with each other. London had found out that Roman had been married for eight almost nine years, but had been with Tiara for 11 years.

Roman also had the pleasure of finding out that London had been married for six years but has been with James for 12 years.

And they respected that. London respected Roman’s marriage. In fact, she thought the two looked very good together, and even though she’s been friends with him for a year and a half now, she couldn’t seem to shake the desire to have him.

Especially like nights like tonight.

Tiara was throwing a huge birthday bash at their vacation home and to her surprise Tiara had invited her to come. Tiara had claimed she wanted to meet the lucky man in her life since she’s never seen him.

Which meant James would be attending with her to the event. Not one of her favorite pass-times.

You’ve used the excuse of not having anything to wear for every other event I’ve invited you to. Now you don’t have an excuse, see you tonight XX ROMAN

London bit her lip as the notecard, and it was things like this that made it hard for her to keep things strictly platonic with him. It’s why she almost never went to anything he invited her too, she feels like once she’s consumed enough champagne, she’d jump his bones.

She pulled the dress out of the bag that it came in and she laughed. It almost resembled the dress that she had on when they first met. No wonder he bought it.

“Babe are you ready? The driver’s gonna get here in 30 minutes.” James voice called out from the living room and a sigh left her mouth.

James was a good man, he was one of the top selling real estate agent in Florida and helped his brother run his family business. He was a good provider, made sure she would want for nothing, not that she needed him for that anyways, her money was long too. In her father’s eyes, James was the perfect match. Together they were an over educated black couple from proper families on the road to the American dream of corporate America.

He just didn’t give her the excitement Roman did. Didn’t really engage with her like Roman did, and that made it hard because she didn’t want to step out of her marriage. But the more she spent time with Roman the more found herself almost not caring.

She contemplated on wearing a different dress just to throw him in a loop, but she couldn’t find it in herself to do it. He bought the dress for her to wear tonight… so that’s exactly what she’d do.

After she fixed herself up, getting dressed and placing her heels on; She stood in front of her vanity mirror to fix her hair, making sure her faux locs were swooped in the right place and James walked in, face scrunched in confusion when he seen her dress.

“I thought you were gonna wear the black dress I picked out for you?”

“Something got on it. I didn’t want to take too much time getting ready so I just threw this on.”

James nodded his head, before tilting his head toward the door. “Drivers downstairs. I don’t want us to be late.”

“Okay, grab my purse and I’ll meet you downstairs.”

She watched as he left the room through the mirror and quickly moved to her closet, there was just one last thing she needed to do before they left.

____________________________________

When they pulled up to the house, London couldn’t help but nod her head in approval. The house was damn near a castle, and she believed that a guy like Roman definitely would live like a king.

She held onto James hands as she walked into the house. There wasn’t that much going on, the music was playing but it wasn’t playing loud enough that she couldn’t hear the chatter of people talking to each other.

Her eyes roamed the place to take in the scene in front of her. She hoped to catch sights of Sienna, their only mutual friend, hopefully she would take her mind away from the married man who plagued her mind ever since they met.

“So tell me how you know these people again?” James asked, he doesn’t remember a Tiara being fully aquatinted with his wife.

“You don’t remember Sienna’s wedding where her idiot of a husband ruined my dress?”

The memory almost immediately click when he remembers London fighting her way through the crowd with an irritated look on her face. He remember wanting to find the gentleman to make him apologize for ruining his wife’s dress but London told him he already had apologized before she left the couple alone to find him before they managed to piss her off even more.

His eyebrows raised with a surprised look on his face. “You’re still cool with her after that?”

London let out a soft laugh. His shock was not misplaced, but if only he knew the real reason why she kept herself acquainted with Tiara. “She’s not so bad; plus she wants to meet you, meet the lucky man in my life.”

That made James smile, he leaned forward to press his lips against hers in a quick kiss. London and her husband locked eyes, and she could see the soft smile on his face. She knows its because of the knowledge that she’s been flaunting him around, but in truth her marriage was her only shield to be around Roman when Tiara was around.

The silver ring on her left finger reminding the other married women that she really had nothing to worry about. Gave Tiara a sense of security that London wouldn’t put the moves on her man.

And she’s been respectful of her marriage and their marriage. No matter how nervous Roman seemed to make her, butterflies in the stomach and brings a low simmer of lust in her loins.

She’s done her very best to keep him at arms length when she felt herself getting tempted.

“Well if she wants to meet me, that means you’ve been telling them what a great husband I am?”

London nods her head at him as if to agree but that wasn’t necessarily the case. And in all honesty, James really wasn’t a bad husband. She didn’t know what it was but something about Roman was gaining her attention.

“London." She heard a familiar voice call her and she turned her head to catch Sienna walking towards her direction.

A sense of relief washed over as she seen her friend with her husband. Thank God, I won’t have to spend the entire time here alone. She thought to herself. She flashed a smile at the couple when they walked up, London stepping forward to press her check against her cheek, kissing the air as a greeting.

"Hey girl, I was hoping I would catch you here." London stated with a smile.

"Me too, I have so much to catch you up on. Babe." She turned towards Khalid, her husband, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "You mind keeping James company? I’m gonna take London to the bar."

Before he could even agree, Sienna’s hand held onto London’s as she dragged her to the bar so that they could have the conversation Sienna obviously couldn’t wait to have.

"Girl, what’s so important that you have to tell me?"

"I wasn’t invited to come here." Sienna started, which caused London to raise her eyebrow at her in confusion. "Tiara didn’t invite me because I had already told her I was supposed to be out of town. Which isn’t really the truth, but that’s neither here nor there. But imagine my surprise when Roman calls me begging me to come because he didn’t think you would show if I didn’t."

"I didn’t even know you were coming. And Roman didn’t even know I was coming because I got a personal invite from Tiara."

"The real question is why does he care that you show face at his wife’s birthday bash?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.

It was a good question to ask, especially since the two have have not crossed those boundaries with each other but it was obvious that they wanted to. London did her best to prevent any opportunities where she would let temptation take over.

Roman would try to invite her in almost all the events he was going to make an appearance at or that he was throwing; and she would always come up with an excuse as to why she couldn’t make it. She couldn’t blame him for the way he’s been acting though, because even though she keeps her distance with events; she found herself not caring when it came to communications.

Any time he called, she answered. It didn’t matter what time it was, if he texted her or called her, she would answer. She gave him all her time, and give him advice when he needed it. And maybe that’s why he cared if she showed up or not.

“Do you want me to answer truthfully?” London asks which causes Sienna’s eyes to widen.

“London please don’t tell me you’re sleeping with him!” She hissed out and London smacked her in the arm.

“I’m not! Jeez, Sienna have some faith in me. We are both married.”

“And yet, here we are at his wife’s birthday bash and he’s practically begging to see you.”

London rolled her eyes, that aspect wasn’t something she could control; but she knew that if there was someone she could trust with valuable information, it’s Sienna. "I’m wearing the dress he bought for me to be here. Ever since I met him Si, it’s almost like I can’t get him out of my mind. And I’ve been avoiding coming to anything he invites me to because for some reason whenever it’s just me and him… I forget that we’re married to other people."

Sienna’s eyes widen at the confession. She always thought that Tiara and Roman were happily married…. She knew that London and James were okay, but obviously there was something she was missing.

"Is there anything I can get you two?" The bartender asked once he finally showed up.

"Two Malibu sunsets for the both is us." Sienna replied to the man before turning toward London. "So… you’re trying to sleep with-"

"No! I am not." London hissed at her, smacking her arm again to shut her up.

Sienna lets a small laugh. This was definitely worth coming out the house for. "Okay, so you’re not but you want to."

London let out a defeated sigh, because she really did want to. But she also wanted to respect his marriage and hers as well. "God; Sienna, if I could just forget about the real world for just 10 minutes. And who knows…. Maybe this is just an infatuation. Once I do it, it’ll be like I got him out of my system."

"Two Malibu sunsets for the beautiful ladies."

London reached in her purse to pay but - "It’s already paid for." The man informed her. That caused her to raise her head and look around the bar area to look for him. She just knew it had to have been him. But when she couldn’t find him, she lowered her head to search through her purse anyways. She grabbed two singular hundred dollar bills and handed it to him. "As a tip." She stated and she watched the younger male smile at her with appreciation.

"Thank you; I really appreciate it." He thanked before walking to the other side of the bar with a little pep in his step.

"Sounds like to me you want a little more than just getting him out of your system." Sienna suggested but before London could respond to her friend, she felt the gift Roman left for her go off.

The panties she decided to put on last minute started to vibrate.

"Good afternoon ladies." She heard from behind her. The amused smile on Sienna’s face would not disappear.

"Roman." Sienna greeted. And London turned around to face him.

"Roman." She greeted and Roman stared at her… he wondered if she had it on. He wouldn’t be able to tell cause he had it set on the lowest setting but he was going to found out in a millisecond.

With his hands stuffed in his pocket, he discreetly pressed on the button to the remote to increase the vibrations and the way London leaned forward to grip onto the counter gave him the answer he was looking for.

"You ladies enjoying yourselves?" He questioned, a small smirk on his face.

"Well…. Some of us more than others obviously." Sienna replied, before stepping closer to the two. "I’m going to disappear for 20 minutes. Hopefully you guys can get everything ‘out of your systems’ then huh? And just incase you lose track of time, I’m gonna call you London. Come find me immediately after Kay?"

And was it wrong for her friend to encourage her to sneak off with a married man at his wife’s party? Yes, but who was Sienna to judge. Plus…. This definitely made for great conversation when London would come back. So with a small wink, Sienna grabbed her drink and whisked away from the two.

20 minutes.

"Roman." London breathed out because the panties were still vibrating against her clit.

"You look gorgeous in my dress." He whispered in her ear and a soft moan came from her lips as a response.

He scanned the area to see if anyone important was around. None of Tiara’s close friends that he could recognize were around, so he grabbed London’s hand to pull her away from any lurking gazes. Plus, he was granted only 20 minutes to disappear with her. He wasn’t going to waste any time.

When The door closed to one of the guest rooms, he made sure to lock it and push her against it. "Imagine my husband’s surprise when I decided to wear this instead of the the dress he picked out." London breathes out, her hands clutching at his shoulders.

"How surprised would he be when I send you back with soaking panties that I caused? Would he get a big head and think it’s for him? Would you lie to him and tell him that you’re wet for him when you’re really wet for me?" Roman questions, his hands trailing over her body.

London never got the chance to reply because Roman had closed the distance between the two and pressed his lips against hers in a feverish kiss. He’s been wanting to do this for some time now, and with his little window of opportunity, he was gonna make sure he got what he was looking to achieve.

Their lip’s moved against each other’s frantically, tongue swirling around the others and Roman’s body was pressed against hers, the hidden bullet that was vibrating against her clit had an applied pressure on it now and it caused her to moan against his lips.

"I want you to cum for me before I send you back to your husband. You think you can do that for me gorgeous?" He asked huskily in her ear, causing goosebumps to rise against her skin. She felt her nipples harden against his chest and her fingers were clawing at his sleeves.

"Roman" she moaned out and he was tempted to suck on her neck. Return her back with his mark littered over her neck.

"C’mon, want you cum untouched." He whispered to her, grinding his hips into hers.

The moans were freely falling from her lips, her head thrown back against the door and Roman felt his temptation take over. He leaned forward to press his to her neck.

All the sensations took over body. He heard London take a small intake of breath. Roman kept his hands on her waist and continued to move her hips with a rhythm against his. The feeling sending a euphoric feeling throughout London’s body which causes her to buck her hips against his to chase the feeling. The buzzing of the vibrator along with their bodies grinding against each other’s gave a delicious feeling that she never knew she would experience.

"Fuck Roman." She breathed out. "Don’t stop." She begged. Everything seemed to fade around them, the room being filled with London’s moans and Roman’s quiet groans. The bullet presses even closer to her clit, which causes a shaky breath escape from her. She felt herself clench around nothing and in that moment, she really wished she had more than 20 minutes.

"Gettin close for me? It’s okay, let it go." He cooed softly. The churning in her stomach was taking over her, the stimulations taking over her body and she couldn’t believe she was going to cum untouched for this man.

Roman grabbed both of legs in a swift motion to wrap it around his waist to bring himself even closer to her. The fast motion made London moan aloud; the change of position allowed her to be able to truly feel how hard he is….. how big he is.

The way she was moaning in his ear was tempting him to push her panties to the side and fill her up with everything he could give her.

"M’gonna cum." She slurred out and it was the only warning she gave before a small cry left her lips. The vibrations of the bullet taking her there. She tensed against his body, her nails creasing his suit as she held onto him as she fell apart right before him.

Roman leaned forward to capture her lips in another kiss, and it was one she found herself getting lost in before her phone rang, vibrating in her purse that ended up on the floor somehow.

"Turn it off." London whispered to him, referring to the still buzzing toy that was overstimulating her. And he was tempted to make her cum twice but they didn’t have the luxury of time.

He didn’t peel himself away from her though, just slipped his hand in his pocket to turn off the toy.

"I’ll give Sienna whatever she wants if she adds ten more minutes to our time."

"What I really want to do to you is gonna take more than ten minutes. Plus, I have to go. James will probably be-" Roman kissed her again. He didn’t care to hear about him, not when she came so beautifully for him.

"Roman I have to go." She whispered, pushing him away from her.

And he watched her try to support herself on trembling legs, fixing her dress to try to present herself. He was almost tempted to let her walk out with her lipstick smeared but he knew better…. Knew that he had to play his cards right with London.

"Your lipstick is smeared." He quietly muttered into the room.

Watching her fix herself filled his chest with pride, how disheveled she looked by the quick session. And before he could say anything else, she quickly existed the room without looking back.

Roman stood frozen, he couldn’t believe what just transpired between them. He basically just stepped out on his marriage at his wife’s birthday bash and yet…. He couldn’t find it in him to feel guilty. The desire that burned for London was lit for over a year now, how could something he wanted be so bad when it felt good?

He took a couple breaths to calm himself down, he had a semi boner that he needed to get rid of so he thought of anything he could to help him get rid of it.

When Roman appeared again to the party, he searched for his wife; wanted to see where the lady of the hour was. In the midst of searching, he saw London with a man he could only assume was her husband if the way she was dancing with him was any indication.

The slow wining of his hips against her backside made him green with envy. Especially since he didn’t get the time that he wanted with her.

But when she lifted her head and their eyes locked as she danced with her husband, he couldn’t help it when his chest was filled with pride again. Her eyes were filled with the same burning desire that he left her with.

He left her hot and bothered and now she was looking for an outlet to release her pent up emotions. If he ever had the opportunity to be alone with London ever again; he would make sure he took care of her fully.

And thats how it started between the two.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I teased this a long time ago so here it is! This might be a quick series, lmao idk yet but I had this part written and I’m ready to release it. Please give me your honest opinions and feedback. Please show lots of love; I’m still new to posting my stories publicly. Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for part 2 if you’re not on it yet!

Tagging The Lovelies: @whatdoeseverybodywant @gomussy @theninthwonder @christinabae @2-muchsauce @alichesmi @pitlissa22 @sassginaswanmills @harmshake @po3ticb3auty @unfriendly--blvck--hottie @dersha89 @serena004 @reci1996 @scarlettnoir01 @venusesworld