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st4rg1rl-16 · 4 months

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━━ ✶✶˖° 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗛𝗥𝗘𝗘 | 𝗡𝟰𝗦.

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴(𝘀) ━ 2019 to 2023!f1 grid x driver!female oc

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 ━ lewis responds to what arabella said in drive to survive starting a little rivalry between them

𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲 ━ 2019, 31st march

𝗹𝗼𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 ━ manama, bahrein

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ━ angst because bella tries to push everyone away, lewis being confusing and cursing

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲 ━ not an accurate description of a race (i don't really know how to write that so this will do) btw seb is not going to be in the grid until 2021 bc you know we need that seat for bella but he will appear so don't worry

𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ━ @namgification @louvrepool @d3kstar @omgsuperstarg @whoselly @yl90

• — need for speed’s masterlist

HER leg, clad in the red race suit, moved up and down. She bit the inside of her left cheek and played with the sleeve of her shirt. She was in her garage sitting on a bench that she had found, her car surrounded by her mechanics was not far from her.

She looked around her: this was definitely different from Formula Two.

Today was her second race in Formula One and for some reason she was nervous unlike the first one in which she felt nothing but excitement and adrenaline. Yesterday she qualified in fifth place so she had a good chance of winning or at least getting on the podium which was good news but the spaniard couldn't help but self-sabotage and think that she wasn't going to win.

Her anxiety began to take hold in her stomach and she couldn't help but think about her teammate. Last night they had confessed their feelings to each other and between kisses and whispers they fell asleep, which was special for her but when Arabella opened her eyes and quietly slipped out of the room to get ready to go to the circuit, reality crashed into her, giving her a slap all over the face.

Now she was in a relationship? –They hadn’t come to anything since they didn’t had time to talk but let's leave it at that– with her teammate which, according to the small print of their contract, was strictly prohibited so if they were discovered they could be fired in addition to the fact that it would be a scandal, they would call her everything and they would surely believe that it would be a point in favor of why there should be no women in Formula One and she knew that, unfortunately, Charles, just because he was a man, would not come out as badly as her.

She covered her face with her hands trying to block out the light and took in as much air as her lungs would allow before releasing it again. She had to talk to Charles and make things clear, but first she had to forget about that and focus on her career.

She called herself a fool in the four languages she knew. She was supposed to be smart, she had to think things through, know in advance all the possible scenarios that could arise as a result of her actions. She couldn't make mistakes, she was in the spotlight of thousands of people. She was Arabella Torres, the girl who had make it to Formula One at just eighteen years old and who was causing a sensation in the world of sports. She couldn't allow herself to make mistakes, not after everything she had suffered to get to where she was now, not after everything she had said. She couldn't make a fool of herself like that.

She would be a shame to her family, her friends and most of all to the women around the world that she represented. She wanted to make history and change it, she wanted to be the one who made the path easier for others but she couldn't do it if two months after debuting she was caught with her partner's tongue down her throat.

"Fuck," she cursed in a whisper in spanish, removing her hands from her face. Some leather moccasins were present in her field of vision, she looked up, meeting Alexander, her man of the radio, looking at her cautiously.

“You seem worried, are you okay?” The man, who was in his fifties and reminded her of her grandfather, asked.

She shook her head, releasing a sigh that she didn't know she contained. She faked a small smile "I'm a little nervous about starting in fifth position."

“You'll do well, I'm sure” He placed his hand on her shoulder and gave her a couple of pats as a sign of support “Who knows, maybe you'll win this race.”

"I wish" her smile changed to a real one, winning would definitely make her day better.

The half brit half italian smiled back, tightening his grip on her shoulder before letting go and pointing to his ears. “Don't worry, I'll be with you.”

She smiled tenderly before opening her mouth to answer him but she was interrupted when she heard one of the mechanics say Charles' name, then she heard the others greet him as well. Immediately her leg resumed moving up and down on her spot.

Mierda. Shit.

A couple of minutes later the green-eyed man was walking towards her offering her a smile that she could swear was worth a million euros. She reciprocated timidly and lowered her gaze when he finally reached her side.

For his part, Charles felt that at any moment he was going to throw up butterflies. He took advantage of the fact that she diverted her gaze to the ground to observe her better, the sleeves of her race suit were tied to her waist, leaving her fireproof shirt that hugged her body to view, highlighting her figure, her dark hair was tied in a low ponytail, she was not wearing makeup, leaving seeing circles under her eyes that confirmed that what happened last night hadn’t been a dream and that it had actually happened.

“You left without saying anything” He leaned towards her and whispered so that no one else would hear him.

She felt how her cheeks began to heat up and how the feeling of guilt began to settle in her chest “I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep so I went to my room. I didn't want to wake you up” She lifted her right leg and bent it, drawing it toward her body and then placed her chin on against her knee so she could see him better. She furrowed his eyebrows “Are you angry?”.

He shook his head slightly earning a sigh of relief from her to which he laughed extending his arm to gently caress her back. It was true, he wasn't angry but he would have liked to wake up with her in his arms.

“You start in fifth position, how do you feel?”.

“I think I will get on the podium”.

“Oh, yeah?” He smiled, raising both eyebrows in a mocking tone to which she smiled amused “Do you think you'll beat me? I have the pole”.

She liked talking to Charles, he made her feel calm and helped her escape from her tedious reality. The monegasque, apart from being handsome and a good driver, was also a good person. He was the type of person who looked for a way to make you feel good and comfortable, that he adapted to the person with whom he had a conversation, taking into account what to talk about and what not to talk about. That was one of the things she liked about him.

“Mmmh, you'll see, Leclerc” She wrapped her fingers in the laces of her shoe and nodded, smiling at him mockingly, playing along.

The boy stared at her for a few seconds without saying anything, his gaze traveled quickly from her eyes to her lips and back again before leaning towards her again to speak in a low voice “You don't know how much I want to kiss you right now”.

"Charles!" She reprimanded him in a whisper, placing her hand on the boy's face and pushing his head back. She laughed because she thought it was funny but she tried to hide it "We shouldn't talk about that in public."

He rolled his eyes regretfully “Right.”

An applause was heard, drawing the attention of both, Arabella hurriedly released the monegasque's head when she saw Mattia Binotto approaching them at a quick pace.

“Good morning, guys!” A big smile covered the lips of the man with glasses “I hope you slept well because today we need you to have energy”.

They both shared a look and smiled slightly.

Wow, so sneaky.

“Charles, you are in pole position which is fantastic. I'm proud” He praised the boy who smiled and responded with a thank you. His gaze shifted to the girl, who shrank in her place somewhat nervously "And you, Arabella, are doing so well Fifth position in your second race! Great, simply great”.

“Thank you very much, sir,” She smiled politely. She felt the tension expelling from her body little by little.

He pushed up his left sleeve revealing a watch that looked like it was worth quite a bit of money and looked at it before covering it again "Well, I'm pretty busy today and since I won't be able to talk to you the rest of the day I wanted to wish you both luck” They both let out a thank you again, this time in unison making him laugh “By the way, I know you both want to win but whatever happens we will be happy and proud. See you guys”.

And without further ado he left, leaving them alone again.

“He was acting a little strange, don't you think?” With a frown and looking in the direction where the team principal had disappeared.

“A little, yes” He played it off, taking his phone out of his pocket to look at the time.

It was already eleven thirty in the morning.

“What are you going to do until lunch?” He locked the phone and returned it to his pocket while he mentally reviewed his agenda.

“I have a couple of interviews for a DAZN Spain. What about you?”.

"I don't know yet, I'll look for Emma and ask her" He shrugged and looked around the workshop in case he saw the publicist near her. When he confirmed that the woman wasn’t there, he turned to his team mate “Do you want to eat together?".

"Sure" She agreed before her own publicist approached her. She nodded when she told her that it was time for the interviews and she got up from the red metal bench, looked at the boy and raised her head in dismissal "I'll send you a text when I'm done."

He gave her a thumbs up, smiling at her, and stood up too, ready to go to his part of the garage and find his publicist.

Arabella looked at Elvira, her publicist, trying to look for any sign that she suspected something about the two drivers but the black-haired woman was too absorbed in her phone. She wrinkled her nose looking away from her trying not to be caught staring.

“Well, Albert Fabrega will interview you. It won't be anything out of the ordinary: he'll ask you how the car feels, if you think you'll win, he'll talk about your position in the standings and little else” She finally took her gaze off the phone, taking her index finger to her black-rimmed glasses, pushing them towards her face.

“Okay, and then?” She accepted the bottle of water that a Ferrari assistant offered her, thanked him with a smile when he walked next to her with an umbrella in his hand ready to cover her from the scorching sun.

“You'll talk to the DAZN Spain team for a while and ehm….” She looked again at the electronic device in her hands “There are some rich fans who have access to the paddock, you will take a couple of photos with them and you will sign whatever they want you to sign, then you can go to eat. You will met Charles for lunch, right?”.

“Yes” She began to unscrew the cap of the bottle and then take a good sip. She laughed "Do you know that the other day a girl asked me to sign her boobs?".

"Ew" Elvira made a disgusted face before waving her right hand "I'm so glad I'm not famous sometimes, anyway I think it's good that you go to lunch with Charles, so we can know where you are. I'll make sure Lando stays away from you, I don't want you two to start playing again” She looked at her accusingly over her glasses and she laughed guiltily, knowing she was referring to when she and the McLaren driver got together on Friday, playing tag and by accident they broke a sign.

They spent half an hour apologizing to Red Bull for tearing in half a poster with Pierre's face, who didn’t hesitate to make a dramatic scene about the situation.

But what could they do, after all they were just children.

“I THINK I have a good chance of getting on the podium today, I'm starting fifth so...” She shrugged, giving the camera a toothless smile. Her right hand held the microphone they had given her while her left held her body against the railing that separated the drivers from the press.

The journalist nodded “And what about your rivalry with Hamilton? As you said in Drive to Survive, you will do everything possible to beat him”.

That wasn't in the plan. She bit the inside of her cheek and swayed slightly wrapping her right foot around her left leg. “Yes, I said that but I don't have any rivalry with Hamilton other than, well, the typical one on the track that I have with all the drivers”.

“Don't you know what Hamilton has said about you?” The question left her frozen and for a moment she was worried but quickly composed herself and denied, looking out of the corner of her eye at her publicist and manager, who looked at her just as confused as she was before taking out their phones. The interviewer approached her, handing her his phone; it showed an article from the spanish newspaper Marca which about her and the champion.

She read the headline "Hamilton makes it clear that he is not worried about Torres" and she frowned as she watched the Mercedes driver's words being recited more quietly.

"I don't think she's a rival for me."

“Do you have anything to say about that?” Because she had tucked the microphone under her arm so she could grab the phone, the journalist brought his own microphone closer to her face. She opened her mouth to respond but nothing came out. "In the Melbourne GP you didn't get close to him, finishing in eighth place when he was second. Do you think you'll beat him today?".

She glanced at Elvira and Nicholas again, who shook their heads but she ignored them. “He can say whatever he wants. I'm not going to say that I'm going to beat him today because no one, much less me, knows what's going to happen today, but if I don't beat him today I know that one day I will. Maybe not today or tomorrow but one day I will and rest assured I will take the title from him.”

A smile was planted on the man's lips when he heard her. “Thank you, Arabella. That's all”.

“Thanks to you” She gave him a small smile that didn’t hide her annoyance and, after extending the microphone to the sound people, she turned around and walked away from there. In a second her publicist, her manager, the assistant with the umbrella and the Netflix team were at her side struggling to keep up with her.

Both adults looked at each other while the poor assistant was sweating profusely trying to hide it from the sun.

“Arabella...” She raised a hand stopping the woman, who with her mouth open looked at the girl's manager.

"I don't want to talk now, Elvira” She growled, heading to her room, ignoring everyone she found in her way. When she got to her room she locked herself in, putting the latch on, slamming the door in the faces of both adults.

The blonde knocked on the door. "Bells, don't lock yourself in. Talk to me”.

She was pissed off, very pissed off. One of her idols had underestimated her in public and she didn't understand why. Lewis seemed to be kind and good, she hadn't had the luck –or, now, misfortune– to talk to him yet but still the champion never failed to give her a smile when their eyes met. Was it all for appearances?.

She clenched her jaw, feeling how the tears of rage and frustration began to accumulate in her eyes, pushing against each other eagerly to slide down her cheeks. She swallowed and let her knees give way, causing her back to slide against the door until she was sitting on the floor.

It wasn't the first time they talked bad about her, it wasn't the first time someone was condescending towards her but damn, when he was one of the people you admire most in the world, it definitely hurt more than anything.

The sound of a notification rang from her pocket, she wanted to ignore it but she knew that it was most likely Charles looking for her to eat. Swallowing her tears, she took the phone out of her pocket and looked at the time, there were less than two hours left until the race, she had to go eat.

A single notification occupied the screen confirming her suspicions upon seeing the Monegasque's name.

She smiled though her smile warped into a pout as she felt a sob run down her throat. She suddenly felt worthless and that she didn't deserve anything that was happening to her. She closed her eyes tightly, smashing the palm of her hand against her mouth, trying to silence the sob. She wasn't going to cry, she didn't want to cry, she couldn't cry. She had to be strong.

“Ma belle?” She heard a knock on the door and then she could hear the boy's shy voice. She shook her head, she didn't want to be seen like that, much less for Charles to see her like that. My beautiful.

She stood up, leaving the phone on the floor and hurried to grab the box of clinex that she had in the television cabinet. She blew her nose and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt before walking to the door and bent down to pick up the phone, opening the camera app and looking at herself on the screen. She was more or less presentable.

"Bella, please," she heard him speak again, this time with a pleading tone “Can I come in?".

She took a breath in and out before faking a smile and opening the door, finding Nick, Elvira, and Charles behind it. The three of them were looking at her with concern.

“Well, are we going to eat or what?” She smiled wider before leaving the room and passing between them ready to head to Ferrari's cafeteria.

The three looked at each other and Nicholas let out a sigh, running a hand over his face before looking at the boy dressed in red. "Go to her, she won't want to talk to us."

The driver nodded before starting to run in the direction of the girl. When he was close to her he wrapped his hand around her wrist and pulled her up, making her stop. "Hey, what just happened there?".

"Nothing, I got angry, I calmed down and that's it" Charles frowned in denial when he saw her smile that could be seen for miles that was false, he was beginning to get annoyed with her "everything is fine" attitude.

“I was in my room when you arrived, you were going like the devil was chasing you. I also heard the door slam. Don't lie to me, Arabella” The false smile that was on her lips fell to the ground as soon as she heard him, she looked around them. Some of the staff watched them talk.

She gently released herself from his grasp. “It's not a good idea to talk here, Charles.”

"I don't give a shit," It surprised her because, to be honest, since she knew him she hadn’t seen him like this, much less heard him curse. He continued, "You can't throw a fit, worry everyone, worry me, and then act like nothing happened. That's not how things work, Arabella.”

She looked at him in silence, he was right but she wasn't going to give that to him. She didn't like to talk about her feelings, much less when they were bad ones.

Charles looked at her too, waiting for her to say something, anything. He wanted her to open up to him, to trust him with her feelings like she had done last night, she wanted him to know that he was there for her.

"See you on the podium," She then told him in a serious tone, after she turned around and disappeared.

SITTING in her car she felt like a king although the looks of the mechanics around her made her feel like she was a bomb about to explode. They looked at her, talked and even were cautious around her.

Apparently the word had spread..

She glued her gaze to the halo that surrounded her, the famous phrase "I feel the need, the need for speed" was printed in white letters. She clenched her jaw when she saw the cameras pointed in her direction, she knew that tomorrow people would be talking about her face.

Her tight jaw that highlighted her features and her intense gaze fixed on her halo would be something to talk about the next day. Some would say she looked attractive, other would would criticize her.

Fuck them.

Nicholas approached her with her helmet and the balaclava in her hands. He held them out to her and she took them. She looked at her helmet and with her index finger caressed the black 9 that stood out among the red and white.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw how the six foot man squatted next to her car to get a better look at her. "Good luck, speed. We are with you.”

The smallest smile of hers was present at her nickname and she raised her gloved hand formed into a fist, soon she felt the man's fist collide with hers.

“Arabella, you're out in five!” She heard someone shout and nodded, putting on her balaclava, someone helped her put on her hans and her helmet. She closed her eyes as she quickly crossed herself.

She pursed her lips thinking about her family. It had only been twenty minutes since she had called her mother to talk to them and say her goodbyes, something she always did before a race since she had that accident. She said goodbye to them in case she didn't leave the track alive, her parents weren't happy about it but she needed it, she needed to tell them that she loved them just in case she couldn't tell them again in person.

She watched as Charles' car pulled out of his garage as the lead car passed in front of them. She felt a small sting in her chest, she pressed her lips together knowing well that it was her fault. They hadn't spoken again since their "argument", they hadn't even eaten together like they had talked about in the morning.

She felt bad for pushing him away but she couldn't help it, she was like that despite herself.

Her jaw clenched again when she saw the black and white car pass by. She was going to win or at least get on the podium so she could shut up the Brit. She was willing to make her life in that race hell. She was going to make him fight for first place.

She watched as the flag in front of her lowered and hurriedly stepped on the accelerator to leave the garage. She followed Bottas being followed by Verstappen.

She took a deep breath, tightening her grip on the steering wheel. Well, here we go.

“Arabella?” She heard Alexander's voice on the radio “Can you hear me?”.

"I hear you," she replied without taking her eyes off the end of Valtteri's car.

She swallowed and lowered the visor of her helmet. The silence embraced her completely, the only thing she could hear was her own breathing. And then every red light turned green in a blink.

Lights out and away we go!

She tried to overtake Bottas but the Red Bull driver tried the same with her. She clicked her tongue when she felt the Dutchman's car pull up to hers.

"Get him off or you'll crash." She heard the man in her ears and she opened her eyes obviously, she wanted to respond with a sarcastic comment but knowing that the communication was being recorded she decided to remain silent.

“Copy” she tried to get away from him but in less than a second Verstappen was already next to her again. She cursed under her breath.

It seems that Verstappen is not making it easy for Torres.

“Not today, Max. Not today, damn it”.

“Carlos is trying to pass, take advantage of it and pass Verstappen” she nodded to herself and prepared to accelerate, she watched as Carlos made space to the left of the Red Bull car, causing the three cars to be stuck together, covering the entire road. When on the 33rd she saw that Sainz was trying to pass, she stuck to him, leaving Arabella alone, she pressed the accelerator and drove away from them “Very good, Bella!”.

She quickly passed Bottas. Her eyes fell on the other Mercedes not far from her Ferrari. Her right corner rose and she tilted her chin down decisively.

And Arabella passes Valtteri, thus remaining in P4. Will she get through to Hamilton?

She suddenly began to lose control of her car making her panic “I'm losing control!”

She felt how the car spun around on itself “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

She turned the wheel trying to get the car back on track, praying that neither Verstappen nor Sainz would approach her and take her in front of her.

She wasn't ready to die.

She's losing control! Verstappen approaches her with Grosjean close, that could end very badly.

She tightened her grip on the steering wheel and, swerving, managed to turn around and get the vehicle back on track. She sighed, her eyes so wide it seemed like they were going to pop out of it's sockets.

"Arabella, are you okay?!" She heard several voices coming from the radio, she distinguished Alexander's and Mattias's, she also thought she heard Nick in the distance.

"I'm fine," she confirmed and the sea of red polo shirts sighed with relief in the Ferrari garage. "I'm going to overtake Magnussen."

"Copy"

While she was losing control of the car, Hamilton had managed to pass the Haas driver and was now trying to pass the other Ferrari in the lead.

She approached the black and gold car applying a tactic similar to the one the Dutchman had applied with her, approaching from his left on the curve trying to intimidate him.

"Press as much as you can" she heard commotion from Alexander's side and frowned.

"What's happening?."

"It's Charles." Her heart skipped a beat and she immediately thought the worst. Worry filled her body.

"What happened to him? Is he okay?"

"He had a problem and he had to box, he will be out in a second. It's okay, don't worry, you keep going like this and we'll see if we can get you up to p2" he tried to distract her from the topic of her teammate.

"He doesn't get tired," she warned and the man nodded, watching her car from her screen.

"Keep pushing, you're going to pass through the pit exit in no time. Take advantage of the fact that Charles is going out and pass him."

"Okay"

She followed the instructions given to her and continued alongside the Haas car until they passed the pit exit. She calmed down when she saw the other Ferrari approaching to enter the track again.

Between the two red cars they caged the danish and Arabella took the opportunity to overtake. With her right hand she greeted her teammate, earning a return greeting before losing sight of him.

They quickly left the black car behind and were left alone, looking for Lewis.

And the two Ferraris are going wheel to wheel after Leclerc's problem! They are fighting for p2, what a show Ferrari is giving us today! .

She smiled competitively and accelerated trying to overtake her teammate but he also overtook although he couldn't overtake too much because apparently the problem he had had before had taken its toll on the car and it was difficult for him to do the overtake.

"P2 Arabella, you're up on the podium!" She heard the British man's shout and laughed in disbelief. Had the race already finished?.

"Good job, guys," she congratulated those who were listening to her from the garage with a smile on her face. She parked the car in the second space and took a deep breath before getting out.

She heard the screams of the fans in the stands and soon saw a sea of red polo shirts approaching her with screams. She was turned around and she was enveloped in a hug, she immediately knew it was Charles as she felt another hoof rest against hers.

"You've done it!" She heard him say, "I'm very proud of you, ma belle."

She smiled under the helmet before feeling multiple hands touch her back, arms, and helmet.

She raised her visor and saw her staff. Someone helped her take off her hans and she quickly took off her helmet and balaclava. Her hair flew loose, freeing herself from the hair band that fell to the floor when she tore off her balaclava.

The shouts of the tifosi among the stands increased when she saw her face revealed and she once again felt like a king on top of the world.

Her ear-to-ear smile shivered as she watched the winner approach her. She looked at him suspiciously as she raised her hand in front of her body. Lewis gave him a small smile. “Congratulations, you did good.”

She raised an eyebrow, looking down at her hand and accepting it in hers.

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snek-panini · 1 month

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Got a bit of a different bookbinding post today. @renegadeguild got an ask from a new binder saying they were intimidated by everyone's gorgeous binds (me too, actually, some of you guys are scary good), and so they've asked people to share their first binds. And I realized I'd never even taken photos of my first one, so here it is, warts and all:

This is E.M. Forster's The Machine Stops, a public domain scifi short story that you can read for free at the link. The first reason I chose it was that it's an interesting story, and I'd bought a print-on-demand copy a few years previously that was just terrible. Baffling cover choices, basic errors in the typeset (like quotes that face the wrong way), weird size that didn't fit on my shelf; just not a good product. I couldn't do it with more indifference than the PoD people. The second reason was that I was too intimidated by the thought of asking a fic writer if I could bind their story and then producing something with a thousand sloppy beginner mistakes, and then they'd want to see photos and I'd have to show them this and it would have been mortifying, but Forster has been dead since 1970 so I could not disappoint him. It was very freeing. I bound it in 2021 as an experiment, to see if I liked this hobby enough to stick to it. The cover is green cardstock and faux leather scrapbook paper that I bought at... probably Hobby Lobby. I added the title later, as a practice project when I first got my Cricut; for the first two years of its existence it had a blank cover.

There are more photos under the cut!

In this photo we can see:

--Too much glue when attaching the leather-print paper, so it oozed out onto the cover.

--Cricut font too thin and too much heat/too long of a press, so the letters have gaps and the glue also oozed out here. It's a continuing theme with this bind.

--I tried to use a bone folder to give it a sharper hinge crease and accidentally pressed too hard and tore a hole in the paper; you can see this in the little white vertical line near the top of the hinge

The fore edge is not square. I actually don't remember why this happened. I may have eyeballed the board position when I made the case, or the paper may have slipped while the glue was wet, or I cut it crooked and didn't notice till later. Either way it's bad enough that the book doesn't stand on its own. There was a crooked man/who walked a crooked mile/and found a crooked sixpence/against a crooked stile./He bought a crooked cat/which caught a crooked mouse/and they all loved together in a little crooked house, and I bet they read this little crooked book from their little crooked library.

Top view, you can see that the case is too big and the text block doesn't sit straight in it. It has no endbands or bookmark, and it's hard to see in this photo but there's glue on the top of it, at the spine. This still happens to me but I know how to trim books now so this bit gets cut off. You can also see that the scrapbook paper has some cracks where its white core is visible. This is why I do cloth or actual faux leather on the spines now. Endpaper shows uneven trim (did I not use a ruler for this??), too much glue causing major seepage, and it doesn't sit evenly in the case. I'm not sure if this is because of the case itself being crooked, a badly-trimmed endpaper, or if the text block is also crooked. Or it may be a combination of all these factors. Unclear.

Typeset photos! Here we see:

--Title page has a page number on it. This is a pet peeve of mine and I fixed it after this book.

--There is no half title, summary, or metadata. All my later binds have these things.

--It's typeset in Times New Roman. Unlike many I don't actually hate this font but reading it reminds me of being in high school so this is the only book I used it for. Baskerville is my beloved now. The font is also much bigger than it should be. It's not huge but it's like a large print book so it feels weird for me to read it.

--Lol what are margins

--Lol what are page headers

--Actually I think I left the headers out so it wouldn't have a header on the first page of each chapter, because I knew about page breaks but not section breaks at this time.

--It's on regular-ass lightweight printer paper. There's nothing wrong with this but I switched to heavier weight paper shortly after to help with bleed-through and the light stuff feels so flimsy now.

--I didn't understand how Word's book fold worked at this time, so when I had to set the sheets per booklet and it had an option for 4, I chose that thinking it would give me 4 sheets of paper (16 numbered pages) per sig. It did not do this. It gave me 4 numbered pages per sig. So every signature is 1 sheet of paper. Every page is its own signature. I am still mad about this but it sure drove home how the setting works and also how to make kettle stitches since you make one after every sig. A book of 48 pages has 12 signatures which is just ludicrous.

--There's no photo of this but it has a piece of printer paper on the spine because I didn't have mull. I did use PVA though. Lots and lots of PVA.

--It's stitched with regular sewing thread, which means it doesn't have much swell for a book with that many sigs, but it's less sturdy and more likely to tear the paper.

And that's that! It probably sounds a bit like I was tearing it to shreds but I actually love this book quite a lot. I learned so many things that I applied to my next binds, it was an invaluable experience. It let me fall in love with the hobby so I could make the awesome things I make now. I've got those all posted on my main blog under the tag #snek makes books, or you can see them all on my side blog @papersnakepress. For a first book it's functional and readable, and still better than the PoD copy I had before. I've been thinking of doing a rebind as a sort of progress gauge, actually. Maybe next year.

#bookbinding #snek makes books #the machine stops #it's not winning any beauty contests #or technical skill contests either #but it's mine and i love it #first bind

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shaunamilfman · 2 months

Note

Can you do a jealous Shauna fic

feel like I've written enough full out jealous shauna fics recently lmaoo but here are some HC's i typed up before I got distracted by the other one

shauna warning you not to flirt with someone not because she's threatening you, but because she'll fucking kill them and do you really want to have that on your hands?

she’s also threatening you, but that comes later.

will not take her fucking eyes off you. you can’t breathe without her noticing atp. the very second you look the slightest bit uncomfortable (giving her a reason to interject in your very normal conversation about the weather without running the risk of making you upset) she’s sprinting from across the party to pull you away

accidentally pulls too hard while she's dragging you off and leaves a bruise. she's frantically apologizing about it when she catches sight of it but isn't nearly as apologetic as she seems. sure, she didn't mean to hurt you but damn if she doesn't enjoy the sight of you bruised up from her. tentatively presses her fingers into the bruise the next time you're making out to gauge your reaction. fully ready to pretend she forgot it was there if you react badly

if the person’s actively flirting with you though all bets are off. she’s storming over from across the party and you’d better meet her halfway unless you want some bloodshed. she’ll let you lead her away most of the time but best believe she will fucking remember. she’s got a little list and will check names off of it the second you aren’t looking

actively planning murders while watching you speak to literally anyone else. she has the length of the blade, how sharp it’ll be, where she’s going to stab them, and where and how she’ll hide the body planned out by the time your five minute conversation has finished.

explosive anger as she’s actively feeling jealous, and then quiet brooding for the rest of the night. she’s very in her own head about things and needs to work through it on her own. unfortunately that can exacerbate the issue to ridiculous proportions when she’s feeling particularly misanthropic

i feel like Shauna's particularly vulnerable to getting jealous/insecure when men are involved. even if she knows you're not interested in them she just gets so immediately upset seeing you interact with one, especially like 1996 Shauna. just the feeling that there's something that a man could give you that she couldn't drives her insane

aggressively gets people's names wrong. jessica talks to you and shauna runs over from across the party and is like “hey JENNIFER”

gets fed up and pulls a sharpie out of her bag and writes ‘SHAUNA’ in block print across your arm. she tried to go to your forehead but you had to put your foot down somewhere. somehow it’s still not enough. you’re starting to think nothing ever could be

#shauna thoughts 💙#yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you #shauna shipman x reader

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anon-sect · 4 months

Text

Robert had needed $5000 to pay for the repairs on his car, but didn't have it. He really needed his car repaired, and was tired of bumming rides or asking for friends to constantly pick him up and take him places. He saw an online advertisement for financial assistance guaranteed. He called the number and spoke with a guy named Genie. He thought it was a weird name, but he needed the help. The following morning, he took a cab to Genie's office to receive financial aid to his situation.

Robert saw that Genie was a tall 6'2" tall athletic guy with a strong muscular body. He shook his hand and explained how much he needed and what he needed it for.

"I can definitely grant you financial aid." Genie spoke as he snapped his fingers. Instantly a piece of paper appeared before him. He slid the paper over to Robert. "Where you see an X, just initial it and sign at the bottom." He pointed at certain areas on the paper.

Robert read a few lines and initial where he was supposed to. He looked down at the fine print and read it. There was a line that needed a name on it. "What am I suppose to write here?" He asked.

"Oh yes, I need you to write in a friend's name there. It's sort of a trade off for granting financial aid. The money is all yours to do with as you please, but I must have a friend's name, someone you know well." Genie paused for a moment with a serious look on his face. "The paper will know if you are lying to me. I need a real friend's name there." He added.

Robert needed the money badly. He wrote in his best friend's name. Genie snapped his fingers and the paper vanished. "Your money will be in your bank account in the morning. Also, the deal here is finalized, there is no changing it." Genie told him as he escorted him out of his office.

Robert wondered what he meant by finalized. In any way, he wasn't going to worry about it. He would have his money in the bank in the morning and his car would be fixed.

Will suddenly felt strange. He thought he was at work, but now found himself in another place. Also that he was unable to move. He heard a voice approach him. "Will, I assume. Your friend Robert made a deal with me to receive financial aide from me in exchange of giving me one of his friends for me to own for their rest of their life." The voice paused as he felt himself being picked up. "You do make a nice pair of socks. I think I should test you out at the gym today. That would be a good way to break you in." The voice added. Will screamed, but no sound came out. The thought that he was a pair of socks sicked him. He thought he was dreaming till he felt a foot enter his body and to endure it a second time. The wiggling of toes confirmed what the voice told him, he was literally a pair of socks. At least the feet hadn't smelled bad yet.

Genie like the way the socks felt. He put on his gym clothes and picked out his favorite pair of shoes to wear.

Genie had bought the shoes at least three years ago and has worn them to just about every workout session at the gym. To break in his new socks, he thought no better time like the present. The current insoles were actually two former humans who were sold away for those who wanted his special services. He sniffed them and saw the shoes smelled ripe. The thought of being trapped in that was something he would not want to experience, but his insoles had been in their for the past two years. Their minds are probably so warped by now. They probably couldn't think straight. Their friends actually tried to bargain to get them back, but his magic was a final deal. Once the wish is granted, their friends belong to him forever. At least they got their wishes granted without having to pay it back. Genie put in his sneakers and went for a walk to the gym, which was only two blocks away from his place.

Will thought being worn on feet was the worse it could get, but he found he was so wrong. Being crushed under foot with each step increased his torment. Next came being shoved against his will inside a smelly prison that is a pair of sneakers. He could tell the sneakers were well used over several years. The owner's foot stench was everywhere. He was trapped in it. He mentally screamed for the guy to let him go, but his thoughts fell on deaf ears.

By the time Genie reached the gym, he felt his socks were slightly soaked in foot sweat. He almost felt bad for the guy, especially since his friend unknowingly sold him off to pay some debt. He decided he would start on the treadmill first before going to the weights. A nice jog would feel good and get the blood pumping.

Will want death so badly. Tasting his owner's sweat was horrible. He now felt his sock bodies saturated with the stench and sweat of the guy's feet. He could tell what the guy was doing next by the motion of the feet he was trapped on. The constant crushing increased in motion. He was jogging. The torture felt never ending.

Genie eventually returned home after the gym. His feet felt amazing. The new socks were working out greatly. He decided that the guy would be his permanent workout socks. Every workout session and gym session, he would wear him from now on. He didn't feel bad for the loser since his friend sold him away so easily.

The following day, Genie saw he had a missed call Robert. He had a feeling why he called him, but he wanted to confirm his suspensions. So he called back.

"Are you satisfied? Did the money request come in handy." Genie asked him, smiling slightly as he wiggled his toes in his socks. He was still wearing the poor guy on his feet since yesterday. He was just too comfortable to take off just yet.

"The money helped out fine. My car is in the shop being worked on. But I tried calling my friend Will and couldn't reach him, nor was he at home or work." Robert paused as he remembered writing Will's name on the bottom of the paper. "I was just curious if his disappearance has anything to do with that fine print." He added. He heard Genie laughing on the phone.

"You remember seeing on the contract that the money was yours and you didn't have to pay it back?" He asked after he finished laughing while knowing his socks would not like to hear this conversation.

"Yes, I thought it was strange, but was glad I don't have to pay it back. What does this have to do with Will?" He asked, hoping he was thinking the reason why his close friend was missing.

"That's the reason why you don't have to pay me back. You basically sold your friend to me in exchange for granting your wish. Will belongs to me now, forever." He spoke to an upset Robert.

"Where is my friend? I want him back now!" Robert screamed over the phone, highly upset over what he mistakenly done without realizing it. "What have you done with him?" He added more. He didn't realize that granting his wish would mean selling off a friend to be a slave to some guy.

"Don't worry, he isn't dead. In fact he will live a very long time." Genie pause to create a dramatic effect for his next words. "As my socks to wear as often as I want. Actually, I have been currently wearing him since yesterday. He really is a comfortable pair of socks." He laughed as he heard Robert cursing and screaming at him over the phone.

Robert calmed down. "Please, give him back." He pleaded as he was so sorry for what he did to Will. He would have never signed the contract or his name if he knew this was the consequences of granting his wish."Please, let me have him back. I will repay the money if that is the only way." He added with remorse in his voice. Yet again he only heard a taunting laughter.

"My magic wish granting contracts are final. Once signed, whoever you trade for the wish to be granted belongs to me, and I never let go of my new possessions." Genie paused. "I will take good care of him as he takes good care of my feet. Have a nice day." He spoke and hung up on him. There was no going back. He sold Will to him, and he wasn't getting him back. "You are my socks forever thanks to your friend, Will. Enjoy my feet for the rest of your life." He laughed as he relaxed in his socks, not caring how Will felt. He was just socks now.

#foot domination #inanimate transformation #sock transformation

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lyome · 1 year

Note

Uhuhu I love the way you write <33 Since if i understood correctly request are open, can I request yandere Nikolai (bsd) punishing f!reader who tried to escape ^^!

note: okayy i might've written this a bit too horror-like. i hope you like it though! it was sm fun to write nikolai tho hehe pairing: yan!nikolai x f!reader tags/warnings: abuse!! yandere themes, blood, corpses, murder, captivity, manipulation, guilt tripping, very horror like(??) please read with caution

Nikolai loved you. But his love wasn’t the typical kind. Nothing about him was typical. He’d smile and say the most wretched things. He’d hold you and his nails would dig far too deep in your skin. At first you were just trying to be nice to this strange man. You had no idea how starved he was for kindness, or how far he’d go to keep it.

It took you months to push through the bathroom window. It was small and greasy and too tall for you. Nikolai must’ve known that, having deemed the very idea of pressing yourself through it impossible. But here you were, falling face first on the icy cold ground in the middle of the night. Dirty from the grease and bruised from Nikolai’s last tantrum.

From there it was a matter of luck. You didn’t know this place, and you quickly realised you didn’t know the country either. He kept you somewhere completely foreign, where people hardly even spoke English. All they saw in you was a frantic, insane foreigner covered in filth. No one thought to help you nor call the police. They assumed you were just one of the homeless beggars struggling for change.

As you stumbled about for days, you did manage to speak to a few people. Directions to the police, some small amounts of money, an old lady even gave you a small loaf of bread. She didn’t understand you, nor you her, but you were unimaginably grateful.

You took to hiding that night after you deemed the police unapproachable. Nikolai was a frantic idiot who openly told you about what he did, for who, and why. You’ve spent months trapped in a small room and bathroom with no one but him. And he loved to talk.

It was all pitter, patter and quiz after quiz. He drove you insane.

Curled up in the bushes of a park, you couldn’t sleep. You were cold, hungry, and utterly mortified.

Nikolai did talk far too much, but he had his secrets. You were just a barista that he frequently saw whilst out and about with Fyodor. An innocent bystander who caught the jester’s eye. One thing led to another, until eventually you found his secret. His obsession.

Printed polaroid photos of you, your friends, family and loved ones spilled from his pale white cloak. And he showed it all with a smile. Laughing at your terror, threatening all you hold dear. And then you were gone.

It’s insane to you to remember you used to have a life. You had a job and friends and your world was more than the bright wallpaper that forced you to vomit. There was more to your life than Nikolai’s ugly laughter and threats.

You managed to fall asleep after crying your eyes out. It was too much. But when the morning came your blood chilled.

The sun was bright and birds sang a tune you’ve long forgotten. And at your feet was a note. An ugly one, for it was Nikolai’s handwriting scribbled harshly on the stained page. It said:

To my dearest dove,

You’ve outdone yourself. Say, beautiful, have you been hiding how cruel you really are? Why, all this time I thought you loved me! This really hurts, y’know. My heart is bleeding because of you. I might as well put a bullet through it. Is that what you want? You want someone to die for you?

If you wanted blood on your hands so badly you should’ve asked! I’ve prepared you a gift, in fact. You’ve been bad. Very bad. But I’m in a forgiving mood! Just come, find me here. I promise you’ll love my gift.

Oh and, if you don’t show up, things will get bad. For both of us.

Forever yours, Nikolai

Directions were on the other side. It was a block away, and his tone was all too familiar. You could practically hear him speak. One moment his voice would get low and husky and you’d nearly forget what a monster he is. And in the next he’d sing and chime in that insane way he always did.

Nikolai was a cruel man. So you obeyed. He had already found you, there was no point in trying. You found the building with ease. An ugly abandoned little thing. It reeked of something metallic.

By the time you identified the smell as blood, it was too late. The very first room you entered showed you exactly what Nikolai meant by surprise.

In front of you was a mutilated corpse of a man who gave you enough money to get yourself water. He had been stabbed repeatedly all across his body. You could see Nikolai doing it. Frantic and laughing as the helpless man begged for it to end. Helpless against the ability user.

You wanted to scream. The old you would’ve been shocked. But by now Nikolai taught you to accept this. And at the sight of your frozen face, Nikolai decided to appear. His face popped out of the space-wrap created by his cloak, standing upside down. Now you yelped, inhaled and exhaled in quick repetition, terrified by his head alone. You were like a bunny in front of a fox.

“Darling!” He exclaimed, smiling so innocently in spite of the corpse behind him, “I’ve missed you!”

“Nikolai, please. Let me go.”

“Let you go? But where would you go?”

Bright, yellow light illuminated the room. He was holding you now, fully present within the room. Gloved hands warm as they cupped your face, his palms on your cheeks. You were too scared to move. Eyes watery with tears you desperately tried to keep.

He said your name, mumbled it like a secret. A confession only him and you could hear. “(y/n), where would you go? Don’t you know you only have me?”

Why did he have to look so sad when he hurt you? At the start that was what broke you first. The guilt and sorrow in his eyes as he simply kept going. There was no end to it. Nikolai didn’t know when to stop.

“Please,” you mouthed.

“Oh, stop that.” He was cold now. Just like that, in an instant, his mood turned sour. Face stoic and empty. “This is your fault, isn’t it? Don’t beg me now. It makes you look pathetic.”

His starry eye glinted in the dim light of the building. Deep and endless, beautiful. He was beautiful.

“There’s more to see, ptichka.”

Nikolai had moved out of the way, pulling his cloak to the side as you noticed the staircase leading up. Somehow you already knew what you’d see. There was a corpse right next you here, of course there would be more. Nikolai never bothered with mercy or reason. What’s a few more lives that he can throw on your coincense?

You were frozen in terror, reluctant to move. But then Nikolai leaned in, whispering to you; “They were so nice, weren’t they?.” He laughed, “There’s more upstairs.”

“What do you- What do you mean?”

Darkness and light and then he’s gone. His demonic cackle echoing.

You knew better than to trust him. You paid for trusting him by giving away your life. Captured by a psychopath who cared for nothing but desperation in your eyes. But all his wretched acts had yet to strip you of your humanity. You thought of that woman’s old wrinkled face, her warm smile and the way her skin was littered with moles and deep blue veins. She saw you, a dirty and lost thing, and she helped you.

And Nikolai killed her. Hung her up by a rope and ended her misery.

“Isn’t that ugly? Yuck! I hate old people.”

Your voice was weak, “How could you?”

He sat atop a pile of crates and boxes, illuminated by a green light bulb. White cloak and suit dirtied by blood and mud. You could see hand prints on his cloak, palms soaked in blood as they clung to him. No doubt begging to stay alive.

“Y’know when I heard she gave you bread I was sure it’d be deadly or something! I mean, don’t old things attract old things? Yuck, just imagine it. The old hag might’ve given my little sparrow stale bread! I simply had to punish her for that possibility alone. You understand, don’t you?”

You were still staring at her. She must’ve had grandchildren, a daughter or son, maybe there was someone taking care of her. And now she’s gone. Because she was kind to you.

Nikolai was displeased by your lack of reaction. He sighed dramatically, chin resting in his palm as he simply observed you. “Hmm, I suppose it takes a grand trick to make you smile.”

“I’ll go back with you. Please, no more tricks.”

“Oh, my darling, it’s too late for that. Why would I trust a fucking idiot who can’t even see how good she has it with me?”

And then he took your hand in his, ability melting into your flesh as you watched your entire limb disappear. Sometimes you swear Nikolai laughed on beat with circus music.

“Such a cute face. I forget how pretty you can get,” his hand intertwined with yours, fingers meeting and tangling, “when you’re utterly terrified.”

A bone snapped. You screamed, fell to the ground, tried to pull your hand away despite knowing it’s worthless. Nikolai had snapped one of your fingers. You heard the bone.

What a chilling scene this was. Nikolai the jester, you his assistant, and the hanging woman between you was the audience.

There were tears on your face, the pain being too much. Nikolai’s ability terrified you. He could be standing there, harmless. And then his cloak covered his face and you felt his tongue on your skin. Lips meeting yours once he had tasted your tears. He bit you hard, and then he was gone. Leaving nothing but the taste of blood on your tongue.

“You know, I was really, really, really, hurt when I saw you were gone. Don’t you know you can’t fly, silly? I took your wings, remember? I took everything from you. Don’t you just absolutely hate that? Oh, do you hate me too then? I’d hate it if you hated me! But you don't, right? Or maybe you escaped because you do. But that’d make me sad. Ahh, just thinking about why you’d do this makes me confused! C’mon birde, say it isn’t so. You don’t hate me right?”

He was a lunatic. His words were insane. But your hand was back and your arm still stung and your lip throbbed in sharp pain and the woman’s body circled about until her ugly dead eyes found yours and vomit fought to bubble out of your throat.

“I hate you,” you cried out silently. You were sick of it. You wanted to die. “I hate you. I hate you. I hate you,” You chanted. With every chant you broke his heart, hoping he’d use the shattered pieces on your throat, arms, and legs. Cut you up and destroy you. Give you some sort of release, an end to the misery.

“You’re boring.”

His face was cold as he approached you. No smile nor taunt to be offered. And then his fist met yours, body seated atop your abdomen as he kept punching and punching. Your nose cracked, your jaw, your tongue. It all bled and stung and you swore you could see stars. The floor was coated in your blood.“You hate me, do you? You hate this, right? Because that’s what I do right? I hurt you and I’m horrible, right?” He spat at you. Saliva mixing with tears and blood, falling down your swollen face. You couldn’t speak. “I would’ve let you off this once. Maybe you’re just stupid, I’m fine with that. I like you stupid. Ah, but now I have to be mean.”

#bsd x reader #bsd #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #nikolai x reader #nikolai x you #nikolai x y/n #yandere nikolai gogol #yandere bsd x reader #nikolai gogol #nikolai gogol bsd #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #fanficiton #horror themes #lyomes moon

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flamingo-writes · 11 months

Note

Hi flamingo how are you? How are you with your leg pain since the move? Have you been resting? I hope so!

Well as always I leave you a mini request before starting the week ;)

What do you think that, reader is a not so well known singer ,who is starting out in the world of music and meets Hobie in one of their own performances when they are singing on stage.

hope you have a wonderful week tysm <3!

I’m not going to lie to you, I’ve had a bit of a writer’s block. I powered through it though. I thought of a million ways this could’ve played out and went for the one I liked the most. I hope you like it too, and I’m sorry for the late reply 😢 I rewrote this like three times help 😭 whenever I wanted to sit and write I ended up doing a lot of other things.

With A Little Help — Hobie x Reader

Title inspired by the song by the Beatles With A Little Help From My Friends. The bicycle thing is inspired after a real accident I had once, except I don’t play the guitar and but I did get hit on a freshly made tattoo 🥲

Warnings: cursing,

The moment you decided to start a band with your friends, you knew from the beginning it would go one of two ways.

You could either sign with a producer and basically sell yourself like whores. Somehow gaining a debt just by signing a piece of paper, and working an ungodly amount of hours just to pay your debt, and hope the fame you’ve gained actually helps you make money after the percentage the producing house gets. Becoming puppets for the producer to move around the way they want.

Or you could do everything yourself working with what you had. Recording wherever you found available –sometimes that place being your own room–, asking friends if you could borrow equipment or instruments. Asking for favours. Gathering coins your couch has been swallowing and hoarding for years to print a few hundred copies of posters announcing your next gig.

And out of the two, you knew perfectly well which one you wanted. One of them helped you maintain your freedom, which was exactly what your music spoke about. Gathering a small and loyal fanbase was relatively easy in the low underground bars. The punk scene, the alternatives, and the rock fans soon spread the word around their friends. Eventually, these same people started offering their help with equipment, a few bills for copies, even instruments. It was still a small fanbase, but it was more than enough and they were all somehow more helpful than most people

One day in particular, your guitar player gave you a call. To your nerves, you picked up your phone, furious.

“Where the hell are you?! You’re so late! We’re supposed to start playing in ten minutes!” You barked.

“Ye-yeah…About that…” Your guitar player said with an awkward chuckle. “You see, it’s a funny story…”

“Oh god, no…” You groaned.

“Listen. First of all I’m fine–”

“What the fuck does that even mean? Wait, shit, bruv, did something happen to you?”

“You see, this is where the story gets funny…” They said with an awkward giggle. “I was minding my own business, on my way to the bar. I was on my bike. Riding it, you know. When an old lady and a tiny ass dog appeared out of nowhere, from the corner. In an attempt to not run over either of them, I turned and there was a tree–”

“You can’t be serious…” You gasped, “you alright?”

“In the greater scheme of things, yes I am…But…I kinda hurt my wrist very badly…”

“God, I’m scared to ask…how badly…?”

“Uh, I don’t think my skin is supposed to look purple…And the lady I almost ran over is offering to drive me to the emergency room?”

“Shit. What do we do? Do we cancel—“

“No! Don’t! I don’t know. Improvise?”

“How? You’re our guitar player!”

“Go wild on the bass?”

“Fuck off!” You groaned, annoyed.

Hobie Brown was not far from there, hearing to actually both sides of the conversation through his enhanced hearing. Helping your drummer setting everything up.

“I think something happened to your guitar player, mate?”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m hearing…” Your drummer said nervously.

“If you guys need help, I know how to play the guitar…I can sight read too, but if you give me a couple of minutes to look through your songs, it would be better…” Hobie said as your drummer’s face widened in surprise.

“Dude, seriously?”

“Yeah,” Hobie said, smirking confidently.

“The motherfucker broke–”

“We found a guitar player!” Your drummer interrupted, raising both arms in the air happily.

Hobie giggled and looked over at you. Your eyes remained wide and confused, wondering when the roller coaster of emotions was going to end. You knew him. You didn’t really, but you’d seen him around enough to recognize his face.

“Seriously?”

“Sure, why not?” He said, shrugging.

“Oh god, thank you! Thank you so much, mate!” You said happily, running your hands through your hair in relief, making Hobie chuckle.

“Call me Hobie,” He said with a cheeky smirk.

You introduced yourself, as well the rest of your band. As you discussed what t do for the set list, you insisted Hobie didn’t improve and sight read all of your songs, and instead settled for a set list made out of mostly covers from famous songs, and just leaving a few of your original songs distributed for Hobie to take a break from a hyper concentrated state.

As the anxiety was rising in your belly, about to make you puke a minute away from starting your gig, Hobie grabbed your shoulder, catching your attention.

“Hey, it’s going to be alright,” He said, trying to comfort you. “And if it blows, then what the hell? It’s not going to be the last time you play. That way you could always make a dramatic comeback and look even cooler,”

His words while making you feel less scared about it all, it did nothing for your nerves.

Although as soon as you started playing, the music consumed you. Playing with Hobie instead of your guitar player was simply different. Not that any of them was better or worse than the other, but the dynamics changed drastically. Despite not really knowing Hobie that well, the interactions on stage were fun, spontaneous, even comfortable, like you’d known him for way longer than just the last hour.

Hobie not only exchanged glances with you and walked over to you while playing his guitar, he also went over to your drummer. Sometimes jointing you for the choruses of the covers, or adding spontaneous riffs to guitar solos.

By the end of the gig, people were crazy, screaming, jumping around. As you grabbed the mic, covered in sweat and breathless you thanked them.

“We’d love to stay, but we actually have to go check out on our friend…” You chuckled. “Our guitar player had Ana vidente earlier today, and couldn’t play. We had the magnificent Hobie, here, helping us out!” You sighed. “Let me hear it for Hobie for being a real one!” The crown screamed and clapped, as Hobie smiled at you.

“Thank you for letting me help,” Hobie said, walking over to the mic and grabbing it. “Thank you guys as well!”

“Oh yeah. You guys made this very fun!” You said going back to the mic, your face bearing Hobie’s as he glanced at you with a smirk, “Have a good night, everybody!”

As you walked behind the stage, you grabbed a towel you had nearby and dried your face and hair.

“Good job out there,” Hobie said walking behind you.

“Thank you! It was all possible thanks to you!” You said looking up from your towel. “I’d love to stay and talk but…”

“Yeah, go check on your friend. You can buy me a beer some other time to return the favour,” He said with a cheeky smirk.

“Just one? An entire gig for just one beer?” You joked.

“Well, at least three,”

“Sounds like a deal,” you sighed, meeting his stare and biting your lower lip softly. Seriously, thank you…”

“My pleasure,” He said confidently, meeting your stare, as you noticed something in them sparking.

“See you around?”

“I hang out here an awful lot so, yeah,” He shrugged, putting his hands in the pockets of his vest.

#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown #hobie x you #hobie x reader #hobie brown x female reader #hobie brown x y/n #hobie brown x you #hobie x y/n

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static-scribblez · 8 months

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The PS5 has been out for three years and Chris Dunne deserves one by now he deserves a PS5 the universe owes him one all of this is still this is the text this is all on the shirt the universe owes him a PS I did the math Will I did the math its it’s I did the math if if we made if we fuckin profit 10 dollars a shirt I I give you half of that I get five dollars a shirt I gotta sell 80 t-shirts in order to get a PS5 94 t-shirts if I’m including a copy of Baldur’s Gate 3 that’s doable that’s totally doable that’s all on the shirt all of this is on the shirt including this including this it’s doable I could sell 80 shirts that’s on the shirt too right this is all on the shirt okay this is all going on it’s all on the shirt that’s the shirt that’s my idea for some new merch that’s great that’s a great shirt yeah and the fun thing is that it could also be a poster or that’s true or like a mug or a drink or fucking anything I don’t know just who cares wait can you do that can you setup on the bigcartel like 12 different items all with right the same block of text on it yeah and the plan is to price all of those items I will profit enough enough to purchase a PS5 that’s a lot of items and the second I make 400 dollars they’re gone they disappear because this is a terrible thing for me to do I shouldn’t do this its so funny that’s no that’s such a good idea I just I’ve been thinking about just putting up a fucking PayPal link I’m done I need a PS5 dude that’s dude I I like I want I was just I’m fucking sitting at home just like ahhh here’s the thing I’m not gonna like fuckin I’m not gonna I I I I I don’t I don’t want to beg for money uh huh I didn’t think I wanted to beg people for money but then I took a long hard think about how badly I want a PS5 and I think I might be okay with it. I’ve been having fantasy’s about just going to target and looking at them ya know just fantasies about looking about just I just been maybe I’ll go to target or Walmart today and just look at the ps5s just to be like I could get that I could I could have one I could take it home I could take it I could just buy it today what’s stopping you then because I PS5 the price point its at right now its very dangerous because its an exact price point where I could buy it and it wouldn’t immediately ruin my life but it would make it so that my life gets ruined quicker a couple months down the line okay right which still makes it a bad purchase right yeah you know what I mean that’s kinda where I’m at okay so I say we do the t-shirt thing we make a t-shirt a mug a poster all the specific niche things that the drop shipping company that we work with prints on yeah do’m all all the printful stuff just the entire printful catalogue 50 items yeah the whole catalogue this huge block of text make socks fucking fill out the entire bigcartel page mousepads with as many items as they’ll let me put on thermoses just canvas prints every single possible literation on of it and if that bothers you there’s a very quick to get me to stop doing it just buy them you just need to be the 80th person to buy these fucking t-shirts that’s amazing can we give a prize to the 80th person who buys one uh well how much is the prize uh its its its um its you get a little sandwich kiss you and me each take a cheek and give him a little smooch alright well I’m just going to round and say its going to 40 bucks for travel expenses so that’s 8 more t-shirts we have to before we do that but then yeah sure ya know well then we just increase yeah exactly we just increase the number of t-shirts I have to sell right exactly

#babe wake up new copypasta just dropped #oh hey both of them have their own copypastas now #Chris dunne’s PS5 rant and Will Wood’s Wednesday rant #well technically it’s both will and chris speaking here and not just chris but you get my point #shitpost #life in the world to come #litwtc #chris dunne #will wood

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wormmilker · 8 months

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#life in the world to come #will wood #chris dunne #litwtc #wormmilker #copypasta

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finalfrontierpublishing · 1 year

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Been holding onto some books - simple designs mostly, as my goal has been to get my backlog of textblocks from binderary completed.

Some new things were done - I made my first quarto and first cut-out. I bound Sigh No More by @dhampir72 - which was an exercise in persistence (and frustration).

Statistics:

20,231 words || 84 pages

Body text: Liberation Serif, 9 point

Accents: Lemon Milk

I was inspired by the themes of the fic - about loneliness and welcome homes and the setting of the fic partly taking place in planes and airports, and wanted to make a cutout reminiscent of a plane window. the fic ends on such a bittersweet, pensive note that i tried to emulate that in the bind.

However, i was stymied so many times by the frigging cutout- the bind was so cursed because i tore the cut out so many times. i don't have a colour printer and was forced to make two trips to do my printing on a colour printer. i used handmade (and by that, i mean by me) marbled paper that I made in a marbling class as my endpapers. they don't necessarily match, but i love the non-pareil pattern and i so badly wanted to use it.

I also used french double core endbands - matching the insert's colours - had some good fun with it - though i have been very rusty and don't quite remember the steps for endbands. I also used some lovely duo elster supplied by @pleasantboatpress when we did a bind trade, we also traded bookcloth and resources and i love this colour of duo!

My other bind, a bind i did post binderary before i took a long break was the traceability series by @blackidyll.

Statistics:

73,221 words || 223 pages

Body text: Georgia, 10.5 point

Accents: Alien League II

I had some issues with over-pressing hence the distortion of some of the finer lines of the cover. i had been playing with heat-reactive HTV over the font title (inspired by @nodeadfandoms who used heat-reactive HTV in their binds in such a cool way), but unfortunately the silver and grey doesn't have much contrast when i run my finger along the HTV.

Made with Japanese bookcloth - blue from hollanders, this bookcloth is quite a favourite of mine though it's really backed so thinly with paper.

For my last book bound during Binderary - I bound Quriosity by @drgrlfriend.

Statistics:

93,121 words || 345 pages

Body text: Georgia, 11 point

Accents: Sigana Condensed

As mentioned I kinda fumbled the HTV as I decided to use a different brand of HTV (Cricut Foil vs Siser), which had some issues adhering. It's definitely not perfect, but I had some fun with the original Bond design on the cover and using lines as a theme for the design aspects of the fic. I've also discovered my near unhealthy obsession with tall vertical looking fonts - i am not sorry.

I used purple silk moire cloth, which has a lovely sheen, though i think that colibri will always hold my heart.

I still have 9 more text blocks to go - am working towards trying out some marbled edges or foil edges in the future - have two flatbacks ready for some experimental 'fuck around and find out' treatment.

Life has been a little ridiculous recently, so it's likely my binding for the next couple of months will proceed at a glacial and erratic pace - a good deal of apologies to the people i've promised author copies, it might take a while.

#bookbinding #fanbinding #my books #renegade bindery #james bond #Q #quriosity #sigh no more #traceability

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thesoftboiledegg · 8 months

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The "nerdy" store at the bigger mall never has Rick and Morty merchandise--I found a DVD there once, but that's it--and yesterday was no exception. I did find a cardboard cutout of Sersi, my favorite Eternal:

Am I the only one who liked Eternals? I think Marvel just marketed it badly.

I usually don't have much luck at Hot Topic, either. They sell bags of tiny figurines from other shows, and I always wondered why Rick and Morty didn't get in on that. Turns out, Adult Swim finally discovered that market!

When I first saw the characters on the back, I thought "Oh, cool, we're finally catching up to season five." Then I found a surprise: Crow Witch Rick!!

I wanted that little guy so badly, but the figurines are packaged so that you don't know what you get until you open one. I thought "He has a pointy hat, so maybe I'll be able to feel that inside the bag." I've heard of people using a similar method to find rare hockey cards.

But nope...no luck. Maybe I'll be able to find an opened one on eBay.

Also, it's funny how they're making "Rickdependence Spray" merchandise like that isn't the worst episode in the series. Admittedly, I did laugh at Morty's "dirty little doggy" line. But it wasn't worth it!

Hopefully, this means that more Crow Witch Rick merchandise is on the way because I would buy all of it.

Hot Topic also had another underutilized character: Philip J. Fry.

Futurama is weirdly under-marketed. The series has enough of a cult following that it seems like a cash cow, but merchandise is rare. I've always thought that Futurama is strangely underrated in general even though it's aired on two major networks and has one of the most famous cartoonists in the world behind it.

On to Spencer's. They didn't have Pickle Rick OR the Rick and Morty cube. Pathetic! But they did have a new wallet that looked like an old TV set, which is pretty clever.

GIF of the changing image:

Today, it was time for a trip to the other mall. As always, I gave Box Lunch a little tip. Someone else requested the "will to live!" I don't think the mall can help them with that one.

In the food court, I spotted a man wearing a Rick and Morty shirt. I said "Hey, your shirt is awesome! Can I get a picture?" He said "Yeah, sure." When I asked him where he got it, he said "Burlington."

So Burlington sells demonic Rick and Morty merchandise now? That's news to me.

The pile of Rick and Morty Funko Pops greeted me at one of the "nerdy" stores, but they're still slowly thinning out. I guess nobody wants the huge Snowball.

Similarly, I posted about this poor Froopyland Beth months ago, and she's still here. Nobody wants her!

And to make matters worse, there's an identical Froopyland Beth in a different part of the store who's lived there for months, too. They even lowered the price!

The store also has two identical King of Shit Rick Funko Pops, each with a different location and price.

Don't want either of those? You can buy Rick in his ship if you're willing to reach to the top shelf.

Look at him go!

THIS Spencer's location didn't let me down. Pickle Rick and the Rick and Morty cube were squeezed onto a shelf, albeit with a bat blocking the view.

They also had a couple of new shirts. I love the vibrant colors.

And a handful of comics in a different "nerdy" store.

No comics for me, thanks. Not unless they release a Crow Witch Rick one--and how has that not happened yet? Seems like an obvious way to expand on plotlines from the series.

Anyway, it'll probably never happen, but my dream is to get a Crow Rick figurine in this style. Maybe I'll hire someone to design and 3D print one.

#rick and morty #rick sanchez #morty smith #hot topic #spencer's #futurama #roundup #funko pops

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stigmatic275 · 2 months

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I unexpectedly had the opportunity to do some printing with linoleum today, and the printing block I made came out so much better than I expected!! (I made a fish 🐟) Makes me want to start printmaking regularly!

I'd done printing with linoleum a few years ago in art class, which sucked, so I expected this to come out badly, but it was actually awesome :) I'm not sure what exactly changed between a few years ago and now, but my understanding of printing, especially knowing how to actually utilize the medium rather than trying to go against it, has suddenly gotten so much better.

I may post pictures of the printing block and some prints later if this gets any notes

#linocut #printmaking #art

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canonicallysoulmates · 2 years

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Random highlights from Sam and Jacob's portion of the iwtv ep 7 podcast:

Naomi Ekperiginbeing (podcast host) when recapping the episode: "Being in love with Lestat is what Louis does best." Agreed 😌

Sam: "What I really like also about this episode with Claudia and Lestat's relationship is that I think they are a good match for each other and I think Lestat does respect Claudia actually. Particularly once he realizes what she's done and the plan and she's stomping the crap out of Antoinette's head he sort of thinks "wow"."

Sam: "But he understands why he has to die, or why Louis has to kill him. I think he- it's probably the only point in the whole show where he has a tiny slither of humility. Really, and he has to be like poisoned and on his knees and have a knife at his throat and kind of totally incapacitated for that to happen so I think he knows, deep down that Claudia can actually give Louis maybe something that he can't give him which is a sense of purpose perhaps."

The big "feast" scene took two to three weeks to film!

Sam and Jacob still own the blood-covered shirts from the scene as well as their fangs, and Jacob also has Louis American Express card which we see in Daniel's dream flashback of his and Louis first meeting. Jacob says that Rolin Jones texted him when he found out he had taken it being like 'you asshole, that's the one thing I wanted from set' and Jacob was like 'print more, you're the boss' 😂

They filmed everything at night, including Dubai even though it didn't need to be

Now this is just adorable, Jacob said that him and Sam were going to be going to the theater that night and that they had seen each other every day for the past week, that they're still choosing to spend time together. That is so freaking cute.

Jacob: "When he says "the love of my life" there's a little bit of a question mark in there as well" 👀

Jacob: "He's (Louis) exposed himself in a way that he really didn't anticipate at the beginning, this has not gone the way he planned. And not only that but I think that while Daniel diagnoses it as like lying and withholding I think there are things he blocked out. I think he really does believe what he's saying, for the most part, I think it's just that there are moments throughout the season where he's coming to the realization that he's lying as he's doing it. It's too disturbing to kind of like stop himself and go 'oh wait, hang on, maybe that didn't happen like that' because it's too painful."

Sam: "To stand up for Lestat there, yes, he wouldn't play a butler. But I don't think that's any kind of declaration of love." HE'S RIGHT AND HE SHOULD SAY IT!

They are able to give a little taste of what we can expect in s2. Jacob says they'll have to deal with the fallout, and Louis and Claudia's dynamic is going to be an interesting thing to explore. And Sam says something that's gonna be interesting about next season is meeting Armand because he's an old vampire who knows all of the vampires so he's an interesting character to bring in because he links a lot of other vampires in the world to him. But in terms of Lestat, he doesn't know if he can say anything, and it's so cute cause Jacob has to stop him he's like "no, we need to stop Sam." because he knows that man wants to give a spoiler so badly 😂

#loustat #sam reid #jacob anderson #iwtv #iwtv podcast #iwtv spoilers #iwtv cast #this was totally worth staying up for #but now i need to get a couple hours of sleep and then when i come back it's j2 panel time #mine #non spn

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careless-with-your-heart · 2 months

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Lay You in the Ground (WIP CHAPTER) - An iZombie AU - Blaine x OFC Fic

Kiss me.

Those two little words reverberate in his brain for the next several hours, so aggressively intrusive despite their softness that Blaine can’t focus on the task at hand—the new online ordering option that will run through the Point-of-Sale system of Romero’s, allowing brain purchases to print cheerily out into the kitchen as custom menu items. The potential to make even more money, even more under the radar. Normally, he would be all ears. But Blaine barely even hears as Darcy explains the intricacies of the new network.

He registers words, vaguely.

“…and it’s critical that the actual products that go into those menu items be added to the kitchen order to cover the true nature of our “special deliveries.”

The meaning is clouded by the memory of big, dark eyes looking up at him. Soft, warm lips millimeters from his own. A heartbeat so loud in his ears, beating so fast that he wonders how she didn't faint. Then, the words that are both a heady arousal and an albatross, making him ache and scaring the shit out of him at the same time.

She'd been so close, so tempting. He has no idea how he’d mustered the willpower to leave that room.

Kiss me. Don’t you want to?

He wants to. So badly. In fact, thinking about kissing Catherine Cohen takes up way too much of his average day—even eking into the late hours, when he lays in bed awake, thinking about all the delightful little ways she would react to his kiss. And then, to his hands on her. His mouth on her. His body over hers. Hers, trapped beneath his, with none of the flirty back-and-forth, no means of escape.

His little runaway—there’s also that. The woman fled Vegas with twenty large of the mob’s money. And despite how he’d reassured her, Blaine isn’t a hundred-percent confident that whoever this Foreman guy is, he’s the type to take twenty Gs as a write-off. But if Kitty’s father has already paid the fatal price, there’s the shakiest of chances that the debt’s considered paid.

But also the chance that the tab’s still open, running, and gaining interest.

A problem, perhaps, but not for right now.

Now, Blaine blinks and looks at the pair of Darcy and Don E, who are both smiling broadly. He returns the gesture, expert at pantomime. He gestures to the office surrounding them, the extra monitor that will soon display the new orders.

“It all looks great. Let’s start slow, though, yeah? Offer this to our higher-paying customers. VIP. We’ll roll it out on a small scale. Darcy, can you hang here tomorrow night just in case I need to work out any kinks?”

Darcy blanches. Blaine, realizing his choice of words, winces. “With the system. I promise, no more dramatic movie kisses.”

Blaine cracks a real grin when Don E. scoots a little closer to his wife.

Unearthing his cell phone from his jacket pocket, Blaine wakes the screen to check the time. An hour until The Post opens. Romero’s is already in full swing, and the sound of dinner service sifts back to them, clinking and shouting and the crackle and hiss of flame and steam sounding almost intentionally arranged.

An alert makes Blaine swipe again, to bring up the security feed that surveils the area surrounding The Post. In the short clip that pops up, a man lurks in the alley just a block over, smoking. The time stamp is ten minutes past. Then, another alert—this time, the same man, across the street and visible in the camera feed that is mounted above the front door.

Something about the man—short, stocky, thinning hair and heavy eyebrows, a nervous shift back and forth from foot to foot that’s apparent even at a distance—makes Blaine uneasy. Right now, The Post would be occupied only by back-room girls, Chief if he’d decided to be early, and…Kitty.

Blaine watches on the front camera as the man shuffles to the edge of the far sidewalk, watching traffic, seeming to prepare for a jaywalk to The Post.

“Trouble, boss?” Don asks.

Blaine isn’t sure. But he puts his phone to sleep and tucks it away.

“No, no. Bums setting off the cameras. You know what? Don, take the night off. I’ll go work The Post tonight. As a thank you for all you’ve done”—he bows slightly—“and an apology for getting so intimately acquainted with your wife’s tonsils, stay and have dinner. On the house.”

Darcy squeals and jumps, clapping. “Really? Oh, we haven’t had a date night in forever. Baby, can we? Can we? Please?”

She punctuates her plea with a few well-placed kisses on Don’s smooth cheeks, landing last on his lips, pulling him in for a kiss that almost rivals the one that Blaine had laid on her. The kiss that had been impulsively intended for the woman Blaine was now—suddenly—very anxious about.

A problem for later's become a problem for right now.

Blaine leaves Don and Darcy still in flagrante as he hurries past diners and dodges staff on his way out into the darkening Seattle evening. The man lurking outside of The Post—he'd had a very Vegas look about him.

#more soon #promise i haven't forgotten #izombie #blaine debeers #original female character #fanfiction #fanfic #wip #au #get out of my brain little puppets

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pbandjesse · 3 months

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I had a surprisingly good day. Like nothing huge happened exactly. But I had a really nice time.

Part of it was I slept pretty good. I woke up at 650. Which was my new plan so I could leave at 720 and this worked out really well. I didn't have to rush. I got dressed and went down to see James. We chatted about the day and they sent me off to work. And it was a much nicer drive. No traffic at all. And I got to camp before 8. Amazing.

I was alone for a shocking amount of time. Like no one else came in until almost 10. But it was nice. I got a lot done.

After I printed some things I would spend most of the morning just working on my temperature blanket. I cut all the yarn for the last 11 days and it didn't take too long but it did take a good amount of the morning. And once I was done my knitting I worked on sewing down all the tails and ends from the January block. This took forever and I would work on that mostly consistently until lunch time. There were a few things I had to do. Specifically answer some emails. But I was mostly just focused on my knitting and my sewing.

I would finally get an answer about my awah class. And they had already given the class away and I felt super disrespected in the way they approached it. And I sent a pretty stern email, saying how badly this hurt my feelings. And towards the end of the day she would apologize. But I was very upset about how the entire thing was handled. It would sour the middle of my day pretty thoroughly.

I would enjoy my lunch and work on a few little things before our meeting with John the consultant. Me and Sarah would head over to the lodge to set up the tables but she had to carry 48lbs of aquarium salt to the nature building so I carried both of our laptops and mostly set up the space by myself.

We would sit in there and wait for everyone else to join us. And we talked about if we are going to continue being full time next fall. She doesn't think she will. Maybe part time. And I'm considering that option too. The thing about this grant is it was supposed to be a year but I don't know what that means. Like when is the end of that year. So I started looking into what types of jobs I might want to do. Looking at parks and rec stuff and studio assistant and work from home things. I think next year if I don't continue full time at camp I would enjoy being at the BMI again and doing some kind of computer based work l. Something I can do at home but not talk on the phone a lot. We will see what happens. But it was fun looking around.

Speaking of jobs. James did our taxes today and because my LLC made some amount of money this year we ended up owning $1500. Which honestly is not as bad as I expected. Still sucks but it could have been a lot worse. Would have been nice to get a tax return but I think those days are over.

John the consultant was fun today. I got to talk about the work I've done a lot and he seemed to recognize that I'm not just a talker, I'm a doer. I did get a little frustrated when we were talking in circles because we were calling one thing "village time" and one thing called "village program" and no one was clear about what the difference was. And Alexi and Heather kept talking about starting over with the schedule and while I don't feel precious about my schedule I don't think they understand what they are asking. Like they want more fill camp programs. And they want more free choice. But they still want everyone to do everything. And that can't work. So my big goal tomorrow is to start trying to figure out a way to do the impossible. And like they seem to think I'm sad about them not using my schedule. But that isn't it. I would honestly not mind restarting the schedule because it would give me something to do. What I am frustrated by is that no ine is being clear about what they want. I just want to have clarity.

The meeting was good though. He praised us about the teen job program. Formally the CIT "councilor in training" program. Now possibly the "Push" (puhtok ultimate service heros) program. We aren't sure what the name is yet. I just know we can't use my favorite one "Puhtok incredible service squad" (p.i.s.s.).

I let Alexi know I had to leave right at 4. And the meeting was starting to go over so after I was given my tasks for tomorrow (thank God), I ran out of there. Smiles and waves and I til next time.

It was raining. But not to hard. The problem really was the feild was very squishy. But I made it to the office and grabbed my stuff and headed out.

There wasn't a ton of traffic. And I made it home by 445. I was really happy to see James.

James was making themselves a burrito. I would have cereal and a cookie while we chatted. I would gather all my materials and James took them to the car for me. Carried my wagon too. Love my husband. I gave them a kiss and said I would see them in a few hours.

I drove over to Creative Alliance and had some trouble getting a parking space. So I had to park a little far away. But that was okay.

I actually got the time wrong! The program was actually at 630. So that was really good because their was a meeting in the classroom and I was worried I was going to have to rush set up but I hsd plenty of time.

I chatted with Parker and told him about my feelings getting hurt with awah and he agreed they didn't handle it well. And we just talked for a while. It was nice. He's very cool. I also learned that the cool girl at the desk is only there part time. Because on her real life she's a lawyer! What! That's so cool.

The women running the meeting came out in a rush apologizing about the meeting running late and I'm like. It's chill. But they kept apologizing and were super nice. They would end up taking my info to possibly have a private class. Super sweet.

I spent the next half hour setting up and working on an example. And soon my three students came in. And we had such a good time.

I talked about the history of toys for a bit. About how stuffed animals are different from other toys in form and function. And we got right into it. I showed them tips for fabric cutting and how to whip stitch and it was just a really great time. I would show them some sewing machine stuff. How to put eyes on their bears. How to do a ladder stitch. And we just talked and talked. All three women were fascinating and I really hope I get to meet them again because they were all so nice. The one girl has come to my last workshop and brought her sewing machine for some practice. She is taking a proper sewing machine class too. I admire her for jumping in so hardcore.

The other younger woman recently moved here from Chicago and she goes to theater project a lot!! Which reminds me I would like to go to theater project more again. I will have to talk to James about that.

This was a really excellent couple hours. And once we were cleaned up I checked if they would like me to sweep. They said no and I said goodbye.

I need a stop across the street to see if my missing check is anywhere. But no luck. I'll have to check with Parker tomorrow. See if they can just mail a new one here. I'll get paid eventually so I'm not to worried.

I got home a little while ago. James is playing DND with friends and will hopefully be done soon. I am very ready to go get a shower and get ready for sleep.

Tomorrow I have stuff to do! I'm really glad because it's rough begging for enrichment in my enclosure. But I have a direction now and that's all I need.

Goodnight everyone I hope.you have a great day tomorrow!!!

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surpriserose · 2 years

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shrek yaoi | Shrek x Donkey

Summary

Shrek and Donkey go to Comic Con for their adopted son Artie, but Shrek has other plans in mind and takes Donkey to a romantic dinner at the Cheesecake Factory. What yaoitacular action will happen there? Ooooo you have to read to find out~ [1969 😏 words]

Warnings

None! Just some cute gay fluff ☆:.｡.o(≧▽≦)o.｡.:☆

Shrek never thought he would encounter a stench stronger than his own until he went to San Diego Comic Con, but the humid mass of bodies before him proved him wrong. Donkey and Shrek stood aimlessly, flabbergasted by the waves of humanity and also Deadpool cosplayers before them. Their adopted son, King Artie Pendragon-whatever Shrek’s last name is-whatever Donkey’s last name is, was overflowing with excitement. (A/N: If you don’t know who he is get da hell out of here and watch Shrek the Third!) He bounced up and down on the balls of his feet, looking between each booth on artist alley.

“Sae whit urr ye keekin fur?” Shrek asked.

“Umm,” Artie said shyly.

“Ah thought ye git ower yer fear o' public speaking back whin?”

“I don’t really want to talk about it, I’m just gonna go-”

“Aye haud yer horses, kid, whaur urr ye aff tae?” Shrek asked, grabbing the back of Artie’s graphic Legend of Zelda t-shirt and stopping him in his tracks.

“Just um, to get um, well-”

“Oot wi' it!”

“I’m going to whichever artist has the best yaoi, okay? Since you want to know so badly!” Artie yelled, hunching over and shoving his hands in his cargo shorts petulantly.

“Yow-whit?”

“Now, Shrek,” Donkey tsk-tsked carefully as the woman of the gay couple. “He obviously doesn’t want to talk about it and we should respect that he’s a growing boy with his own money and privacy, babe.”

“Ah juist wantae ken whit it's? Is that sae ill?” Shrek asked, shaking Artie like a bag of coins.

“Well yaoi is like-” Artie started, already eyeing the BakuDeku print across from him.

Donkey stomped on Shrek’s foot, who quickly let go of Artie to clutch at his foot. “Thanks Dadkey!” Artie shouted as he disappeared into the crowd.

“Noo whit wis that fur?” Shrek whimpered.

“Stop pressuring our boy, remember, we’re here for him, not for us, you want to make the decisions you should have driven us to OgreCon. Besides, you already know what yaoi is, Shrek.”

“Ah dae?”

“We’re yaoi,” Donkey said.

“Och, ah guess ah dae,” Shrek said, winking seductively at Donkey. Donkey made a flushy face, as much as he could through all the fur.

Donkey and Shrek gazed into each other’s eyes in the middle of the aisle, blocking gamers and anime fans from obtaining their prized and overpriced merchandise. Donkey bit his lower lip as he looked at Shrek’s long, luscious lashes. Angry Marvel cosplayers shoved their way past Shrek and Donkey, some admiring the quality of Shrek’s Shrek cosplay as they didn’t come away with any green paint streaks. Thank God, some people can seal their paint, they thought. Nothing could break the romantic tension between Shrek and Donkey as they were two seconds away from a full blown make out sesh on the grimy convention floor. They reached for each other slowly, almost fingertip to hooftip when they heard the only thing that could break the hold they had over each other, a shout from Fiona.

“What do you mean, HonkIfYouLoveBaDonkADonk isn’t tabling here?!” Fiona shouted at a hapless convention staff volunteer.

“We should get out of here,” Donkey and Shrek said in unison, one less Scottishly than the other. “Huh? What’s your reason? You first!” they continued simultaneously.

“Well…” Donkey started.

“Well whit?”

“Well I may or may not be HonkIfYouLoveBaDonkADonk on Twitter, Tumblr, and DeviantArt and I may or may not specialize in yaoi rarepairs which, funnily enough, makes me really popular with the ladies, if you know what I mean-”

“Okay that’s enough, Donkey,” Shrek said.

“-Not that I’m complaining, I mean you know I’m faithful, but the fame doesn’t hurt-”

“Donkey!”

“-And sometimes I need that unconditional support, because you know when you get into one of your moods I don’t get that from you so I turn to the internet and I know the fujoshis will always have my back even when you’re throwing your little pity parties-”

“DONKEY!!” Shrek roared, drawing the attention of every congoer in the vicinity and a few of the respectable people on the street outside. Fiona whipped around looking for the source of the voice of her one true love and ex-husband. Shrek gulped anxiously, realizing what he had just done.

“We should get out of here,” Donkey said. Shrek nodded. Artie would be fine enough on his own, even if he was lost in the yaoi trenches of artist alley, never to be seen again. Abandoning their kid(s), ex-wives, and the gnat-like swarms of nerds, Donkey and Shrek absconded to the Cheesecake factory outside the convention center.

They got a booth relatively quickly, which for the Cheesecake Factory, was still a two hour wait. By that time twilight settled over the city like a weighted blanket, but a hot and sweaty weighted blanket because of the humidity. It was the peak hour for romance and Cheesecake Factory’s SkinnyLicious® Specialties. Knowing this, Shrek shifted his bulk anxiously on the cracked red leather of the booth. Straight couples (A/N: ew) in the booths and tables surrounding them gazed into each other’s eyes over slices of cheesecake. Donkey would have expectations with this atmosphere, he was very high maintenance, after all. Today would be the day, if Shrek could pull it off.

The waiter, tired of cosplayers, came over and brusquely took their orders before they had time to make small talk about how unfair it was that Firefly was canceled before Joss Wheadon. Shrek waited anxiously for their orders to come, suddenly shy in front of his partner of 21 years with the waiter gone. Donkey started tapping his hoof on the table expectantly.

Shrek cleared his throat Scottishly. “Sae how dae ye lik' th'...th’...” Shrek couldn’t think of anything to talk about. Gazing at Donkey took his breath away, his partner’s beauty overwhelming him like it always did. Donkey raised his eyebrows, unsure what to make of Shrek’s stammering. “Sae how dae ye lik',” Shrek started again, “daein' th' yaoi?”

“The yaoi? Oh, I love it! And the girlies on Tumblr do too, you should see how many notes I get. I really got started in the Rise of the Brave Tangled Dragons fandom, Jack Frost x readers were my bread and butter until the Onceler came along. Now there was a man! Of course, you’re the only big green meanie for me, but you can’t deny how hot the Onceler is…”

Shrek listened intently to Donkey’s ramblings, despite not knowing what half of the words he was saying were. But here he was, all this time later, still learning new faucets of his partner. Donkey was endlessly fascinating, and in turn endlessly irresistible.

It felt like no time had passed at all when their waiter brought their multiple orders of sweet corn tamale cakes, warm crab and artichoke dip, fried mac and cheese balls, and Buffalo Blasts®. Ordinarily, things like this would be far too appetizing for Shrek as they weren’t worms and eyeballs, but this was the Cheesecake Factory. The kitchen might as well have been Shrek’s swamp, it had all the same conditions including the Smash Mouth soundtrack.

Their food delivered, they dug in. The food was good or something. I don't care, we all know that’s not what you’re here for. Shrek, even as consumed as he was with gay panic over how beautiful his partner was or whatever baby gays whose only real experience with the community is through fanfic think gay panic means, was greatful for the break in Donkey’s ramblings. A man can only take so much yaoi.

When they were done with their appetizers, Donkey excused himself coquettishly to the bathroom. As he did not have hands, he tended to end up smashing his face into food and having to clean up after every course. Shrek was used to this by now. But as he waved Donkey off, he had an idea.

Shrek flagged down their waiter. He asked the waiter to come closer – No, closer than that… Well, now that’s a little too close but it works – so he could whisper instructions in their gender neutral ear. As they listened, the waiter grew more and more despondent. Not only had they had to participate in more than fifteen birthdays for anime characters today, but now they would have to play part in a wedding proposal. They nodded at Shrek, a pained smile on their face that said “Yeah, I can do that but you better fucking tip well.” With that hope the only thing keeping the waiter afloat to the end of their shift, they went to the kitchen to make arrangements with the chefs just as Donkey returned to the table.

“So what’s next for dinner?” Donkey asked.

“Och ah awready ordered fur ye, babygirl,” Shrek answered, “Ye kin juist keeping gaun oan aboot yer yaoi wi' na worries.”

So Donkey continued rambling on about Johnlock conspiracies and Onclercest and Omegaverse and his favorite doujinshis and a thousand other things Shrek had never heard of and hoped never to hear of again. But he listened anyway because he was a supportive partner. And hopefully soon, a supportive husband.

The main course arrived soon enough and Shrek was spared hearing about the distinct differences between enemies to friends to lovers and friends to enemies to lovers. Their waiter set down their entrees, a single specially made corn dog on a plate for each of them. But Donkey’s corn dog had a conspicuous ring slipped on it as if it were a finger. Donkey failed to notice it and flung his face towards the plate to munch on that flakey cornmeal.

“Wait, Donkey!” Shrek cried.

Donkey stopped. “What’s up?”

“Dinnae ye notice anythin' special?”

“I noticed someone dropped their jewelry in the batter but I don’t see how that’s any of my business, besides having more iron in my diet.”

“Dae ye really think that's whit happened?” Shrek asked, on the verge of tears. How could their special moment start off like this?

“Shrek, what’s this really about? Is there something you’re not telling me? Are you stressed? Sick? I bet it was those tamales, they tasted a little off to me, hold on let me go get the manager-”

“Donkey!”

“What is it, Shrek?”

“I’m not sick, let me huv a go at this again.Donkey, as ye ken, ogres hae layers lik' onions do,” Shrek explained. Donkey nodded, he remembered their first real conversation well. “And I’d lik' tae add ye as a layer tae mah onion.”

“Shrek… do you really mean that?” Donkey cried.

“O' coorse, mah sweet!” Shrek pried the ring off the corn dog, smashing it to pieces. He held it up in front of Donkey’s face. “Wid ye mak' me th' happiest ogre in th' world?”

“Oh Shrek! Yes! Yes!” Donkey shrieked. He jumped over the table and into Shreks beefy green arms. Unsure exactly of what they were seeing, but still understanding it was a proposal, the other customers clapped politely if bewilderedly.

“Lets go tell th' guid news tae Artie,” Shrek said blissfully. Donkey nodded.

The two of them walked out the restaurant, Shrek bridal carrying Donkey through the revolving doors. They forgot to pay, not that anyone would have remembered after that yaoitastic display. Their waiter remained untipped.

Shrek walked triumphantly into the convention center and kicked in the door to the room hosting the “Fudanshi x Fujoshi: Finding the Perfect Boy who Loves Yaoi Almost as much as You do!” panel slash speed dating event.

“Oi! Artie! Guess who’s getting married!” Shrek bellowed. Everyone in the room hushed. Artie wanted to die and pretended not to hear. Shrek cleared his throat and shouted again, “Oi! Artie! Guess who’s getting GAY married!”

Then everybody clapped.

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