Whoot, it’s time for #FridayReads!  I’m finally digging into Max Gladstone’s Craft series – it’s long overdue for me.

Friend of the Desk Colin Dwyer has Joseph Mitchell’s classic Up in the Old Hotel.

Boss Lady Ellen is reading Sheryl Sandberg’s latest.

Critic Annalisa Quinn is prepping her review of The Devil and Webster – check this space next week!

And Pop Culture Happy Hour producer Jessica Reedy is reading John Darnielle’s sad, surreal Universal Harvester.

How about you?

– Petra

It’s that time again....

For all your Sam/Jared needs!

Sam x Reader

Smut Drabble - by @winchester-smut

Sam Taking Your Virginity (smut) - by @cleverdame

Hold On Parts One & Two (fluff, angst) - by @latinenglishfandomblog

Whole Lotta Woman (smut, plus size reader) - by @blushingsamgirl

What Do You Want For The New Year (fluff) - by @one-shots-supernatural

A Night on Broadway (smut) - by @saxxxology

The Speciality  (fluff)- by @imagineteamfreewill

All I Want for Christmas (fluff) - by @girl-next-door-writes

Closer (smut) - by @deanscolette

Imagine Sam’s Mouth…(smut) - by @bohowitch

Stubborn (smut) - by @tattooed-on-my-wayward-soul

First and Last (smut - a/b/o) - by @scorpiongirl1

Watch (smut) - by @itsmkjones

Forgiveness (angst) - by  @fast-times-in-the-impala

The Sexual Prowess of Sam Fucking Winchester : An Illustrated Essay (smut) - by @themegalosaurus & @winchestersinthedrift

Let Me Prove You Wrong (smut) - by @crowleysplaythings

Dreams Come True (smut) - by @ackleholic96

Jared x Reader

6th and San Jacinto (smut) - by @impalaimagining

If you’d like to be on next week’s Fiction Friday rec list (or would like to rec a story you loved) just tag me in your fic or submit it here. This list is Sam/Jared reader insert only.

Rafael Barba: Good Neighbors / Part 2

A Part TWO to “Good Neighbors”, a previous request re: living next to Rafael in your 20s & reconnecting. This one’s the re-connection, :).

Originally posted by sherrykinss


It took you at least a few days to finally get the gusto to call his cell;



“How did you know it was me?”

“How couldn’t I?”

“Well, I was wondering if you did want to get together sometime, I’ve missed you so.”

“Tomorrow night?”

“Uh… so soon?”

“It’s been too long already.”

“Right… Right, yes, tomorrow should work.”

“I’ll text you the place, eight sound good?”

“Sure, Rafi.”

You were just on time, apparently minutes after he arrived- and he rose to standing the second he saw you come in through the doors he had been absolutely transfixed on.

When he hugged you, you felt like you were twenty-something all over again; fresh, young, full of life and anticipation. And oh, he hugged you; the moment you were in reach, Rafael nearly tripped over the table in his rush to embrace you. It was kind, gentle, and he wrapped arms over your shoulders to keep you close for just a second too long- not that you minded.

“I’m so glad you called,” he held you out before him, and let out a shameful, hushed wolf whistle of approval. “Look at you; Lovely and all grown up.”

“Oh stop,” you brushed his hands off of you, before wagging your shoulders proudly. “The years have been pretty good to you too,” A pinch to his cheek, you couldn’t tell if the pink hue that came up was from your fingers or his blush, Lord he was handsome. “Bet you have to knock the ladies off of you with a baseball bat at this point.”

Keep reading


We’ve got all kinds of stuff in today’s Friday Reads roundup!

I’m still gleefully working my way through Max Gladstone’s Craft Sequence (what TOOK me so long? I don’t even know).

Critic Annalisa Quinn is re-reading Maurice to prepare for an exhibition of queer art at the Tate Britain.

News boss Edith Chapin is cracking Michael Auslin’s The End of the Asian Century.

PCHH producer Jessica Reedy has Alana Massey’s All the Lives I Want.

And Mama Susan Stamberg is reading the LIbrary of Congress’s illustrated history, America and the Great War.

How about you?

– Petra

My Gravity Falls tribute is finally finished! This one was a lot of blood sweat and tears. I lost my entire first 5 days of work to 2 cats with muddy paws, and had to start over from scratch. I hope you all enjoy it! Thanks Gravity Falls for an amazing summer!


Happy fanfic Friday!!! 






The point of this list is to share others work with a bigger audience. Please  take some time to read from this list of amazing people and send them the love that they deserve for all of their hard work!

Happy Reading y’all!!

Rafael Barba / Good Neighbors

Per Request: HERE,
re: Living near Rafael in your 20s & losing touch, then meeting again.


Originally posted by knittingharlot

Okay, 20-something Rafael Barba? Sweet peach material, let’s play.

Please note: I don’t speak Spanish. I google-translated any Spanish, feel free to correct me. Also: You/Reader don’t know much Spanish in this go, either.

Who was at your door?

You hopped up off your chaise, and tip-toed around the scattered records on the floor. It was a Saturday, and you didn’t have any classes or other responsibilities to worry about today- a complete rarity in your life. Which would explain why you were in the position you were; lounging sleepily around in a simple little emerald sundress, nursing your second glass of white wine, and tapping out a joint that one of your friends from school had gifted you for helping her with a paper.

Up to your toes, and you took a peek through the hole in the door. A handsome brunette boy about your age was rocking from foot to foot, holding a little brown box in his arms. He didn’t look familiar, you thought absently, but didn’t think he looked particularly dangerous either. Kinda cute, not that it mattered much. Handsome strangers were rare, and rarely interested in you.

“Hello, how may I help you?” You lay against the edge of the door after opening it, and peered down curiously at his arms. “Whatchya got there?”

He jumped, mostly surprised you had introduced the conversation with questions instead of… well, an introduction. “Oh, uh, this got delivered to my apartment, I’m new here-” The box was held out towards you, and he tapped at the name in the delivery field. “That’s not me,” he pointed out further, which you could have assumed- it was your name there, not his.

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Fiction Friday #3

Huge (TV series consisting of 10 episodes)

There’s more to a person than what can be seen on the outside, as a group of teens and staffers at a weight-loss camp learn in this drama series. As the teens work on getting healthy, they and the staff learn a lot about one another and about themselves.

Reasoning for inclusion: One of the councillors, Poppy, is asexual which she herself states in episode 5: “Movie Night.

Warnings: mentions of eating disorders and purging. One of the campers is there without their consent but this is handled sensitively and she is all about body positivity.

A New Correspondence Between Two Monsters: Part I

*Author’s Note* : This is another writing exercise that I have recently been playing around with - writing a letter in the voice of a character. The context for this is that the character, Rolland, has received a letter from a supposed vampire.  Rolland Delamare appears in my novel and yeah… the novel has a werewolf in it but that is the only fantastical element in the story. This character, Rolland, is, to put it lightly, disturbed, but is very much human. This exercise should capture his personality, his voice, and his aspirations. This is the way he writes. Thankfully, he doesn’t write in my novel - or at least he hasn’t yet. If he wrote enough of it, it’d probably turn into a gothic. The writing here is probably a bit over the top, but that’s Rolland for you.  WARNING: uncomfortable themes. 

29th of January

My dear Monster,

 I think perhaps we’re brethren as I too bear the weight of an unsettling affliction. It is something I keep hidden for much of my public life, like most maladies of the affluent. Blood, too, is a weakness of mine, I’ll confess because of this perfect anonymity. I am enraptured by the thought of it - the dripping, spilling, pouring like rich, thick molasses. It’s beautiful. Provocative even. You call it a ‘monstrous curse’, but you must learn to see it as it is - a release. It allows for new ventures and sensations beyond my own imaginings - it’s better than air, better than sex. This malady of mine I know is psychological. There is science involved and it’s all very clinical. I am not insane. My father has confirmed this. So has my aunt. My mother is comatose, but if she weren’t vegetative, she’d likely concur as well.

The truth is - I can confess to you because it seems you are like me and you might understand - that I’d been living unaware of this affliction for sometime and it was not something I completely recognized until I met my sister. I don’t have a living sister and I don’t believe she is who she claims to be. My younger sister - the dead one - vanished when we were young as a consequence of the curse set upon our house. This curse I believe is the cause of my affliction, the reason for my mother’s coma, and the reason why all but five of the Delamare clan are dead. My sister - or more aptly put, the girl inhabiting my very residence - suffers a pain not unlike the one you and I share. It is because of this I know that she and I cannot possibly be related. The allure for her is not simply just blood, but blood in rhythm. Pulses and tides sway her. It is the full moon that beckons her.

She, this alien moon child, does not know yet what she craves. I know this by her somnambulism. She is a starveling child who roams even in sleep. Her movements are difficult, even feral. I’ve seen her kill before. She was an exquisite and alluring creature in those moments as she bled out a pedestrian on 57th Street. She was fierce and undoubtedly powerful and I am glad to this day I kept myself hidden during this encounter, because when I approached her the next morning on the subject she hadn’t the faintest recollection of the night’s events. She asked me what movie I’d been jacking off to and I let the subject drop.

To date, I’ve never committed any crime. I haven’t killed another living person, but following this encounter with my sister, I want to. Until then, I had been horribly miserable, but finally I have found my release.

We must meet. If anything, misery loves company. I’ll set the date. February 2nd at 2 a.m. Sheep Meadow, Central Park, Manhattan. We will likely be the only two people present.

Deepest Regards,

Rolland Delamare

@marcstjamestwin: Ok. I love your blog and I was hoping to have any one shot of a Steve imagine where Tony is trying to make him admit his true feelings to you? Making him jealous kind of thing? Luv you!

TITLE: Jealous Steve
NOTES/WARNINGS: Besides Tony and Steve, the Avengers are very… fan fictionie. But hey, this is a fan fiction so fuck it.

Steve sat in the living room, watching you like you were the only one left of your kind. As if you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. All you were doing was reading a book whilst being curled up on the arm chair but Steve still thought you looked lovely.

Originally posted by rogers-room

You didn’t notice the way Steve looked at you but Tony had. Tony noticed how whenever you were all in a briefing, Steve would always take your opinion as gospel. How when you and Steve had a conversation, he would stutter slightly or his cheeks would turn a little red. His body may be a super soldier, but he still behaved like the skinny dork Steve around woman.

“Y/N, I need to talk to you about something.” Tony said after knocking on your bedroom door and walking in. You got uncomfortable on the arm chair and moved to your room.

“What’s wrong?” You asked worriedly, putting your book to the side. He sat down on the end of your bed and looked at you seriously.

“It’s about Steve.” You sat up straight, worried at what could have happened to your best friend. “He likes you.”

“I should hope so.” You laughed, not understanding what he meant. “He’s one of my best friends.”

“No, I mean… like like.” He said, rolling his eyes at the childish phrase. You raised your eyebrows and did a nervous chuckle. “I have a plan.”

“Go on…” You said cautiously.

“We are going to make that old man jealous.”

“Good morning.” Tony said as he walked into the kitchen wearing only pyjama bottoms. He walked up to you who was sitting at the breakfast bar with Steve and Natasha and kissed you on the cheek. You bit your cheek to stop yourself smirking as you watched Steve look anywhere but at the two of you. Thankfully everyone in the Tower knew yours and Tony’s plan so there were no weird looks from Natasha.  Tony grabbed himself a croissant and sat down beside you at the bar, with Natasha and Steve opposite you.

“What are your plans for today?” Natasha said, quickly taking a bite from her food to stop her smiling.

“Got some work to do but then I’m taking this,” Tony nudged your shoulder. “out for romantic meal.” Steve dropped his spoon into his bowl and leant back in his chair, an annoyed look on his face but he said nothing.

“I’ll see you guys later.” You said, throwing your plate into the sink. You had to admit, you were a little disappointed Steve said nothing.

You were in the training room, hitting the punching bag when you heard an awkward cough from behind you. Turning around, you saw Steve wearing his workout clothes.

“So, how long have you and Tony been a couple?” Steve asked, looking anywhere besides at you.

“He asked me out last night.” You turned away so Steve wouldn’t see your smirk. Was he already jealous?

“Ah.” Was all he managed to say before Tony and Thor walked in.

“There she is.” Tony beamed, holding you around the waist and giving you a quick kiss. You glanced quickly at Steve and noticed his death glare towards Tony. “I’ve booked us a table for eight. Then I was thinking tomorrow we go out for lunch then catch a movie?”

Originally posted by fanfic-natic

“Actually I was thinking me and Y/N could do some training together tomorrow.” Steve blurted out. Tony, Thor and you looked over and you nodded at him in agreement.

“Say ah.” Tony laughed as he tried to feed you a slice of water melon. You two were always close and you weren’t even trying to make Steve jealous at this moment – it just happened to be the point that Steve lost it. He walked in as Tony managed to squash watermelon on your cheek and, upon seeing Steve enter, licked it off.

“Do you have to do that out here.” Steve snapped.

“Someone’s a little touchy today.” You laughed. Tony winked at you before getting up and leaving without another word. “What’s wrong with my Steve?” You said in a childish voice.”

“Nothing.” He replied blankly whilst leaning against the wall.

“You can tell me.” You said. You joined him against the wall and you both stood in silence. You got bored of waiting so pushed the topic. “You weren’t like this until me and Tony got together.” Steve snorted at this. He looked at you and for the first time in your life, you saw it. You saw how lovingly he looked at you. But he did nor said anything. Instead, his eyes just stayed locked onto yours. You were bored of waiting. “Oh for goodness sake. Kiss me already!” You groaned. Steve looked shocked and began stuttering, his cheeks turning red.

“But Tony-“

“Tony and I were trying to make you jealous. Which worked.” Steve looked taken back but after opening and closing his mouth a couple times, he finally stuttered.

“Does that mean I can take you out tomorrow night?”


Forward Into Darkness

Imperial Fists fiction by castellankurze

In 1519, the Spanish Conquistador Hernando Cortez landed his small force of 500 soldiers and 100 sailors on the shores of the Yucatan Peninsula in what is now Mexico. They arrived in 11 ships, and they were far, far from their homeland thousands of miles across the Atlantic Ocean. Their purpose was to conquer to Aztecs and seize their vast stores of gold.

Upon disembarking from the ships, Cortez announced a decision guaranteed to “motivate” his troops by putting them, quite literally, in a do-or-die position. He ordered all the ships burned, thereby cutting off any possible escape should events go poorly for them. They had no choice: Succeed or die.

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Undertale Fan Fiction Friday

Maybe I’ll make this a recurring thing.  I dunno, it depends on how this one works out. ;)  I do have to stress that I will only do this today and I will probably only take 5 requests (although if I get them done fairly quick, I may do more) 

Here’s the idea:  You send me an ask with a scene of one of your favorite fan fictions, or even your own! and I’ll do a quick sketch of it.  

There are some rules:

I will not sketch un-sourced fan fiction, meaning, you must send me the author’s name and link to it.  Even if it’s you. Part of the reason for this exercise is to help promote you/them. :)

Please let me know if the story is NSFW! I don’t mind NSFW stories at all, but certainly I would want to tag the links to them as such.  However, I won’t draw NSFW scenes.  

Only one story per person.  If I see several requests going towards the same story, I will only draw one of the requests for that story.

I prefer that you request specified scenes. If you send me a link to a story and tell me to draw “whatever I want” … then I’ll probably skip your request.  Is not that I wouldn’t want to read it, its more that I won’t have the time to read it.  I am a very slow reader.   

I never experienced this but, just in case,  if I don’t feel up to drawing a request because of the content, I will send you a reply declining your request, if you’re not on anonymous (you can’t reply privately to them, right?).  I am sincerely sorry if that happens.

Yeah, you can suggest scenes from my own work. >.>


Grisly and morbid—that’s how this dream ends.

It begins with him, lurking behind me in the shadow of night. So close, the warmth of his breath tickles my neck, setting an army of butterflies loose in my stomach. He turns me around, then tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. My head tilts up eagerly, shamelessly expectant, but his golden glow is too bright even for me.

We sit at the river’s edge, watching the ink-black night spill out around us. My head rests on his shoulder, his hand grazes mine. Our touch charges the air with a desire so intense, it’s nearly a tangible thing. I’m sure I can see it if I try, longing and lust tangled together, floating on the air like hundreds of fireflies ablaze in the dark.

Then I look down. I always look down, even though I know what’s coming. And it’s always a shock when I see his blinding shimmer is gone, his hand mottled and pale against the smooth brown of my own. The severed hand of a corpse, cradled limply in my lap.

Murderous rage chokes the air then, polluting each breath I take. It burrows inside, compelling me to feel for the rest of the boy’s mutilated remains. I find another hand, his hand, now green with decay. An arm. A foot, its flesh peeling back with a sickening rip. Almost all of him is here, my anguish displayed in a gory collection of parts. And a new feeling twists beneath the black rage: victory.

I stand in triumph, only to slip down the muddy bank and land in the water with a splash. My legs tangle in the soggy weeds that grow in the muck, and I stumble again. Something else is coiled beneath the surface, pushing against me. I move to disentangle myself, to grab at the thing below, panic and dread burning my chest. When I tug, the thing comes up in my hands, heavy and wet and coated with weeds. Or rather, with hair.

The thing is a head. His head, sliced clean at the neck.

His face is serene, like he’s only asleep and will wake any second despite the decay. Proving me right, his dark lashes flutter. The eyelids fly open, revealing eyes shining so bright, it’s as if they’re lit from within by miniature suns.

His perfectly formed lips part as he—it—says my name, spilling out maggots and worms and other slithering things. I drop the head with a start, but it floats back to the surface. Still visible, despite the murky water. Luminous eyes still open. Lips still moving, insistent upon its message.

“You’ve forgotten. It’s time now to remember who you are—wake up!”

And so I wake up, sweaty and shaking and gasping for breath.

Ever since my birthday three months ago, I wake up like this at least once a week. Not any more knowledgeable as to who the boy is, or what the dream means, or who I’m supposed to remember I am beyond the me I am everyday.

Not hating this dream any less.

If you’ve ever heard the William Faulkner quote “In writing, you must kill your darlings,“ that’s what this is – a darling I sacrificed on the altar of story improvement. So I decided to share it here!


Wheee, it’s Friday Reads!  As you read this, I’m in a car on the way to Columbus, Ohio and the World Fantasy Convention, where I plan to sit in the hotel bar all day hanging out with fabulous authors – so while I don’t know if I’ll get any reading done, hanging out with authors counts, right?

In the meantime, Code Switch’s Kat Chow reports: “I just finished THE WANGS VS THE WORLD (Jade Chang) and BEHOLD THE DREAMERS (Imbolo Mbue), which are two interesting books to read back-to-back. One could argue that they’re both varying departures of the immigrant narrative in fiction. America is ultimately not idealized; rather, the “home country” is.”

Code Switch’s Karen Grigsby Bates calls IQ “a wonderfully sly mystery set in SoCal involving a certifiably brilliant young man who is roped into trying to find a would-be contract killer.“

Friend of the Desk Colin Dwyer says “Still Ferrante” will be the name of his next band.

Reviewer Annalisa Quinn is very excited for Swing Time.

And my colleague Rose Friedman needs recommendations for books on tape – she likes to listen to them at the gym. Any suggestions?

– Petra

A Dress For The Knight

To continue my b-day party, I thought I would self-indulgently post an original short story of mine! This one was a colab betweeen myself and @asparklethatisblue. The art is Val’s, the writing is mine, and we came up with the concept together. This is the story we got into the Buff Babes Zine, now finally available for all to read for free!

*posts story and ambles off to make cake*

Please Enjoy!



Sindri veered away from the door to the little dressmaker’s shop and walked past it for the second time, palms sweating, before she took herself firmly by the scruff of the neck and marched herself right back to it. Alfregg said this was the place to go, so go to it Sindri would. She would not flee from this battle like an unseasoned stripling, even if the beautiful dresses on display in the window were certainly not intended for a dwarf of Sindri’s build. She took a deep gulping breath to brace herself and pushed through the door into the shop.

It was warm inside, cozy and homey in comparison to the larger tailor shops Sindri had attempted in the past. Bolts of fabric in all shades and materials lined the walls as both decoration and storage, joined by swatches of fine needlework. The air smelled of spiced tea, comforting and familiar, and Sindri had taken several bemused steps deeper into the shop before she caught sight of the proprietress.

The dressmaker was a dainty little thing, perched on the edge of a stool as lightly as thistledown to be wafted away with a breath of air. She hardly even had a beard, just fuzzy sideburns to either side of her pointy chin matching the weightless poof of pale hair on top of her head. She obviously had faery blood, and was the polar opposite of everything Sindri was.

Sindri very nearly turned tail and ran.

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Fan Work Friday

It’s time again to submit all your beautiful art and fan fictions for Friday!

Any form of art from any fandom is welcome!

You can submit your drawings, paintings, or videos through private message or my submissions box!

If you want to share a fic you wrote, you can submit a link to it through private message, ask, or my submissions box. You can also submit a text post of your fic through my submissions box!