#can replicators send messages | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mahalkheeta · 1 year ago

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— THROUGH THE PHONE

genre: smut; heeseung, jay, jake, sunghoon

summary: what enha hyung line sends you when they're needy.

warnings: twt nsfw p0rn links, masturbation, cum, cursing.

note: these are all 18+ twitter links so if you're uncomfortable, please don't open them :"D (and !! please let me know if they actually work huhu). also, please, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

— heeseung sending you a video of him cumming to his fist.

heeseung really can't help himself. when he's needy and you aren't physically there to help him, he turns to his fist and wild imagination. he doesn't take his time, quickly unbuttoning his shirt and ridding himself of his bottoms and undergarments.

it takes less than a minute to get himself fully hard, his mind drifting off to thoughts of your small and warm hands wrapping around his cock. you'll hear him pant into his room, his hand working on his hard shaft relentlessly.

his hips are surprisingly steady, not wanting to shift the camera. he wants to give you the greatest view after all. he wants all completely soaked and needy by the time you come running to him.

it's embarrassing how quickly he feels the pleasure build in his stomach, his breath hitching as his fist instinctively tightens against his cock. airy moans start to leave his already open mouth. you don't even need to his face on camera to pocture what it looks like.

"oh, fuck–" his breath hitches, abdomen tensing as spurts of cum shoot from his tip. his fist slows down, brows furrowing as the bliss sends shudders down his spine. "a-ah, ahh," he continues to moan, knowing how much you love the sounds he makes.

he pants a few times, his head thrown back onto the wall before he eventually comes closer to the camera to stop the video. before he presses the button to stop recording, you hear him breathlessly chuckle. there's a text that follows after the video.

"if you get here in 5 minutes i'll let you lick all this off me and stuff your mouth with more, baby ;)"

— jay sends you videos of him trying to replicate your touch.

when jay is needy, he tries doing whatever he can remember you doing to him. ever since he met you, your touch has been the only thing to get him going. thus, when you're not there, the only thing he can do is copy you.

his palm rumbs up against the head of his cock. his fist is tight, focusing on the tip as his chest heaves up and down with every pant and breathless gasp.

"ah, fuck... sweetheart," jay calls out absentmindedly. he tries biting on his bottom lip, attempting to keep his voice down. if the other members heard this, he wouldn't live it down.

"fuck me," he rasps, his hips canting upwards instinctively to chase the friction of his rough palm. it's a stark contrast to your usually soft hands. the added sensation makes his toes curl and his eyes roll to the back of his skull.

his heavy breaths grow slightly in volume as the coil in his stomach threatens to snap with every movement of his palm against the increasingly sensitive skin beneath his head. he can't even speak as his orgasm hits him like a truck.

as thick ropes of his cum spill from his slit, he accidentally lets out an audible moan. his hips are permanently off of the sheets at this point, giving little thrusts into his still tight fist.

eventually, once the intensity of his orgasm passes, he pants into the room. he doesn't need to send any other message to have you rushing back home, wanting nothing more from him than to fuck you senseless.

— jake sometimes sends you the whiniest jerk off videos ever.

when you're not there to please him, jake gets horribly needy. this man was trying to do some work in the studio when his mind just so casually drifts to you, your touch, and your hands. the moment those pictures come flooding into his brain, his cock starts hardening immediately.

and when jake gets needy, he gets needy. he can't wait until he gets to the dorm. he's too impatient to start walking to the restroom, especially with a raging hard on throbbing in between his thighs. he needs to cum right here, right now.

making sure no one was in the room, he makes quick work of his cock. he fishes it out of his pants, the pre-cum already dripping across his fully hardened length.

his hand coming to fisg his cock already has him gasping into the empty studio. he's so needy that his usually breathless moans turn into full on whimpers.

"shit, angel," jake whimpers, his accent thick through the phone as he continues to fuck his fist onto his leaking cock. the sound alone has you dripping in your panties.

"wish you were here," he whines, throwing his head back against the headrest of the chair. "wish you were the one jerking me off right now... ah!"

his free hand comes to grip the black hoodie he chose to wear, needing something to hround him from the pressure that was steadily, and intensely building in his stomach.

jake does not have the near coherence to speak when he reaches his high. in fact, he's shaking. his entire body trembles as his fist tightens around the base of his cock, unmoving due to the sensitivity coursing through every fiber of his being.

you can clearly see the veins in his other arm as he grips his hoodie. you can see the way his cock shakes in his hold as pearly drops of come spill from his tip.

"god..." he pants, eyes still shut and brows still knitted together. "you gotta get here, baby. need to actually cum to your hand. please."

— sunghoon sends you quiet videos of him cumming to his pretty fingers wrapped around his near perfect cock.

sunghoon's videos focus more on his pretty hands pumping his even prettier cock. it's impossible to not be soaking watching sunghoon jerk off to his wild thoughts of you.

sunghoon is sat against the head rest of his bed, his legs spread to accomodate both his hands. you wishes you were between his legs right now instead. one hand cupped his tight balls as the other furiously pumped his erect cock.

his face isn't seen in the video, and you personally think it's such a shame. hoe you loved to watch his face contort in pure bliss, his jaw dropping and his eyes stating down at his length as his thick brows pull together to form a face of ecstasy and pleasure.

the sounds however, do make up for the lack of his face. although he's more focused on trying to picture your hand instead of his more than anything, you'll hear the airy moans he lets slip, the small groans he simply can't hold back as his fist occasionally focuses on the tip of his shaft.

"ah... aha!" he pants out repeatedly into the empty room. he shifts a bit, angling his hips closer to the camera so you can see just how hard he is.

"this is because of you." sunghoon hisses a bit as he feels his high approaching alarmingly quick. "so fuckin' hard for you... ah, shit."

his words are quickly cut off with a quiet groan as cum starts to leak profusely from his tip. his hand rides him through his high, hushed curses and grunts leaving his already parted mouth.

despite all this however, the man is still hard. not even seconds after the video sends, sunghoon has already added another message to his attachment.

"i'm still hard and it's your fault. come here and fix it."

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disneyprincemuke · 7 months ago

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i didn't tell you i was scared * fem!driver

perhaps carrying the burden of being the perfect eldest daughter after all these years have its disadvantages as well

pairings: fem!driver and her literal family

notes: don't even get me started on how fuckin long it took me to write this bro and also let's not talk about how bad this one is ok? thanks

(series masterlist) | (📂 2025: fall from grace)

(prev)

being back home has always brought about a sense of peace she hasn’t been able to replicate anywhere else. it’s just a different serenity when she’s back under the blankets of the bed she’d grown up in, surrounded by everything that reminded her of being young and innocent.

oh, how she misses the times when it felt like the world was in her hands. how naïve of her to think that if she worked hard, she’d get everything she wanted.

every single word of rejection slowly dug the trenches she’s managed to find herself in lately.

she’s so deep in that she doesn’t think there’s a way out.

she lies on her back, childhood stuffed animals burying her in the blanket. she bores holes in the roof of her room where her glow-in-the-dark stars stare right back at her.

she can almost hear the ghost of her 13-year-old self whining as oscar and logan prop themselves up on her bed to paste them on her ceiling, making fun of her for being too short to do it herself.

it used to be so simple.

there’s soft knock on the door followed bt the creaking of its hinges as it’s pushed open. a head pops in. “can we go to the store?”

“what?” she turns her head towards the door and furrows her eyebrows. “can’t you just take my car and go alone?”

dalton frowns, “is it such a crime to spend time with my very beautiful older sister?”

she raises an eyebrow. “you want me to pay, don’t you?”

“don’t make me sound so feral,” the young boy huffs with a roll of his eyes. “i haven’t seen you in months… come on, let’s do something together?”

“i don’t really…” she sighs as she meets her younger brother’s stare and hopeful smile. “alright, mate, just let me change out of my pyjamas.”

that’s how she finds herself at a convenience store at 2 in the morning, hands in the pockets of one of logan’s old jackets that he left in her parent’s house, slowly sauntering through aisles with a blank stare.

she’s been staring at a box of cereal for a couple of minutes, debating with herself if she should let herself indulge. but lately, it just doesn’t feel like she deserves nice things.

when dalton finds her, he’s got a basket full of snacks and drinks. he stops at the end of the aisle with a puzzled stare and tilts his head. “didn’t see anything you want?”

she smiles, “not really. and i’m supposed to be watching my diet — too much ice cream, noah said.”

which is just another blatant lie. she hasn’t touched a drop of ice cream since matt had packed his bags and left her apartment. she hasn’t even really been eating.

dalton hums, “i guess… let yourself have a cheat day, though.”

she sighs out a soft laugh and slings an arm over dalton’s shoulders. “maybe tomorrow. come on, let’s pay up before mama finds out i let you convince me to drive you out to the store in the middle of the night.”

she rests her head at the foot of her bed, nose-to-nose with kidnapper as he sleeps peacefully on one of her pillows.

“wish my life was as simple as yours,” she mutters, running her finger along the cat’s nose. “wish i could sleep all day and be adored like you, kid.”

she glances at her phone, lying peacefully on her side table next to the bed. it’s been going off with constant text messages for the past 5 minutes, most from logan and oscar asking about her parents’ anniversary party, and some from matt.

she can’t get herself to pick up the phone and answering feels like such a daunting task. she can’t find the right words to type out and send out as an acceptable response.

“hey,” the door opens and her mother’s head pops in, “busy?”

she lifts her head and smiles slightly. “what do you need me to do?”

“can you pick up the decorations from town? it’s pre-ordered, so you just gotta pick it up. then maybe could you bring home some dinner?” her mother flashes her a sheepish grin, obviously hoping that she would say yes.

“can’t you get dalton to pick it up? i’ll let him use my car if that’s what you’re worried about,” she offers with a small, unnoticeable scowl on her face. her plan for the entire day was to simply lie in her bedroom and do absolutely nothing.

her day simply isn’t complete unless she’s wallowed in self pity.

“he’s barely permitted to drive a car with an adult in the passenger seat,” her mother sighs. “come on, please? i’ll make you your favourite breakfast tomorrow.”

“really? it has to be me?”

“you’ve locked yourself in your room the 2 days you’ve been back,” her mother sighs again with the shake of her head. “i thought you came home early to help around.”

“i came back early to spend my break here. that doesn’t mean anything about helping around,” she complains, yet she’s scrambling to get herself off her bed. she knows better than to get into this sort of argument with her mother — it’s simply not going to be worth it. “but if it has to be me…”

she gets up and drops kidnapper off in dalton’s room. she changes out of her day-old pyjamas and heads to town where her mother had asked her to go.

all the while cursing under her breath about having so much to do on her supposed break. she’d only driven herself back ahead of her parents’ anniversary party to give herself a break from the fast-paced nature of london.

that and the refusal to go back to her apartment when it no longer felt like home.

but she does all that her mother asks of her anyway because her mother says so.

“you need to eat more, my love.” she watches her mother stand from her position on the dinner table and pick up a bowl of noodles. “you look like you haven’t been eating at all.”

“mama,” she tries to protest with a sigh, shaking her head as she tries to push away the bowl from her plate. “i’m not very hungry.”

her mother is insistent. she shakes her head with a soft huff, scooping out a bunch of noodles and putting it on the plate in front of her. “you need to eat more than you’re eating.”

she lets out an irritated sigh and turns to her father, sat next to her mother, for some sort of words to help her. but he just shrugs at her with an apologetic smile.

“i just want you to look like yourself again,” her mother sighs, pinching her cheek tenderly with a small smile. “you’ve had a tough year.”

she scoffs, dropping her head to toy with the noodles on her plate. of course, she uses her shit of a season to justify being an overbearing figure in her life. she would have been more tolerant of it — as she’s been her entire life — but it’s just not a good time for this behaviour right now.

“fine, whatever.”

she glances down the hallway for anyone who would catch her before she opens the door. she’s greeted by 2 beds and an empty room, but an overwhelming familiarity of friendship. a friendship that she’s strayed so far from that it barely makes sense for her to be standing in this bedroom.

on top of the dresser is a framed picture of her, oscar and logan at a karting track in the earlier days of their karting days together. she stands between the boys, oscar and logan leaning into her with their lips pressed against either side of her cheeks.

on the beds, she can see the 3 of them cuddled up together when she was 14 seeking help from the older boys with her homework.

if she thinks hard enough, she sees her 15-year-old self on oscar’s bed with the blankets pulled up to her chin with logan and oscar squeezing in the other bed in the room when she’s having trouble sleeping by herself.

in the far corner of the room, she can see herself at 16 curled up on the floor after her first boyfriend had broken up with her. and oscar walks in with a small scowl but 3 pints of ice cream for them to share while they try to distract her of the pain.

the room’s been cleaned and polished by her mother, preparing for oscar and logan’s return for their anniversary party this weekend.

she makes a sharp turn for the cabinet at the side of the room, pushing through hangers of jackets and sweaters hanging neatly, untouched for god knows how long. she sighs when a familiar red jacket comes into view.

“i told mama this is mine,” she grumbles under her breath, pulling the jacket out of the cabinet. it’s a ferrari jacket that oscar had gotten from his parents when he was younger, but since he’d outgrown it, she’d claimed it for herself.

“oh, there you are.”

she turns around, with a heavy heart and teary eyes, and comes face-to-face with her father. “hey.”

“i’ve been looking all over for you,” he sighs heavily, stepping into the room with caution. “i just wanted to check in on you after what happened during dinner. you know mama meant well.”

she grins with a slight nod. “yeah, i know.”

“and we’re just concerned for you.” he wraps an arm around her and rests his chin on top of her head. “after the year you’re having… we’re all concerned for you.”

“concerned?” she repeats under her breath, looking up at her father. “regarding what? i’m doing fine.”

“personally, i’m just concerned because you’re my princess,” he mumbles, giving her a squeeze. “and you know… i’m your father? i know if something’s wrong, but it’s okay if you don’t wanna talk about it yet.”

she lets out a heavy sigh, relaxing in his arms. she wraps her arms around him and nuzzles her face into his chest, “thanks for not making me talk about it.”

she throws her head back, trying to pull back the hand that’s clasped in dalton’s hands, yanking her towards the garage of the house.

“come on,” dalton mutters, “we’ll have so much fun! just like before!”

“dalton, i told you i didn’t feel like leaving the house today,” she whines, trying another attempt at pulling her hand back from him. “i have some things to settle with my finances and schedule… i’ve put that off for a couple days and kristen and noah need those by tonight.”

“i’m sure it can’t take that long,” dalton whines with a heavy sigh, tugging on her arm. “just a quick movie in at the theatre then a cup of ice cream?”

“dalton, come on, i said i don’t have the time for this!” she shrieks, yanking her arm back and stomping a foot on the ground. “i’ll pay for you to go with a couple of friends, but i can’t go with you. i have adult matters to handle before the week is over.”

dalton blinks at her, shocked at her sudden outburst. “i just wanted to spend time with you before you go off and not come home for months… i’m sorry.”

she opens her mouth to add to her previous statement, but seeing her younger brother with a frown on his face instantly felt like a pierce through her heart. “i– dalton,” she sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “i just have so much going on right now. maybe we can go a little later? i just need to finish a couple of things for my team.”

“it’s alright,” dalton sighs dejectedly, shaking his head. he walks past her to head for the stairs. “maybe next time when you’re not being a bitch anymore.”

“what the fuck,” she mutters with eyebrows furrowed, turning around with her gaze following his steps. “you did not just say that.”

“what?” dalton whirls around. “it’s true. you’ve been such a bitch since you came back. you lock yourself inside your room, you never wanna talk to me, you never wanna join me for snacks, it takes me extra effort just to convince you to come out of the house and do stuff with me… you changed, mate.”

she takes a deep breath. “of course, you don’t understand. you’re just a 16-year-old — you don’t fucking know anything.”

“i know my sister,” dalton scowls. he rolls his eyes and scoffs with a dry laugh. “sorry, i mean i used to know my eldest sister. nowadays, you just ignore my texts, never return my calls and never wanna hang out. you’re a flake, rocky.”

“and you’re just a fucking kid, why should i take anything you say seriously? what do you know about anything that’s outside of your stupid video games and secondary school?” she huffs. “and what do you know about what’s going on with me? that’s not fair.”

“i’m not talking to someone who’s not open to criticism.” he glances at her over his shoulder one more time before running up the stairs. “get a grip, mate.”

“hey, i heard you were back early.” the front door closing echoes in the house, ciara putting her backpack down next to the shoe rack.

the other girl sits on the couch, attention unwavering to the tv show she’s put on to watch. “yeah. hi.”

“i bought you dinner on my drive home from campus.” ciara skips over to the couch happily, leaning down on the back of the couch her older sister sits on. ciara turns her head to grin at her. “from the chinese restaurant. i got you some noodles and wanton.”

“oh, thank you.” she turns her head with a small grin and a soft eye, eyes stinging with every blink. “welcome home, ara.” she pulls ciara in for a short side hug and presses a kiss on her cheek. “how’s uni?”

“it was alright,” ciara shrugs. “join me for dinner?”

she hums, returning her attention to the tv screen. “maybe not; i’m still full from the lunch i had. but thank you for getting me dinner.”

“you’re home!” dalton appears at the top of the stairs with a big grin. “did you get me my fried rice?”

“of course!” ciara beams, beckoning him down towards the dining table. “help me set up the table. rocky’s still full from lunch. it’s just us, come on.”

dalton hops over to the kitchen with ciara, not sparing his eldest sister another stare. so she just turns off the tv and runs back to her bedroom.

“oh. i didn’t know it was such a sensitive topic,” her mother shrugs with a soft chuckle. “i was just curious because you said matt was going to be here for the party this weekend and suddenly he’s not.”

the girl shrugs, keeping her stare on the plate. “yeah, but i really don’t wanna talk about him right now.”

“come on, just concerned for your relationship.” she clenches her jaw, feeling a knot form in her throat as she lifts her eyes to meet her mother’s stare across the table. “did something happen?”

“no,” she lies with a small grin. “he’s just got some things to settle back in the states. he’s just busy.”

“or maybe he realised you were a bitch,” dalton mutters under his breath.

“dalton,” ciara warns through gritted teeth, hitting dalton on the shoulder very gently. “what the hell?”

“what? it’s true,” dalton mutters. “you know that more than i do.”

“that’s enough,” her father speaks up. “let’s just eat dinner, okay?”

“no, my love,” a whine comes from behind her, “you put it up wrongly.”

the girl on the top of the ladder looks over her shoulder and meets her mother’s judgemental stare and disappointed frown. “you literally told me to put it here, mama.”

“put it up higher, no– like– i’ll just do it.” her mother offers her a reassuring smile and beckons her to get down from her position.

“no, it’s so dangerous for you to be up here,” she mutters, attempting to readjust the wall decorations to her liking. “just tell me where to put it.”

“you’re,” her mother pauses, “not doing it right. just come down and let me do it.”

she huffs and drops her hands. “fine.”

she climbs down the ladder, folding her arms over her chest as she watches her mother replace her.

“see? isn’t that better.”

but she swears it’s exactly the way she’d put it up just a moment ago.

“is this what you’re going to do the entire time you’re here? just mope in your room with your cat?”

she lifts her head from her pillow and turns, resting her head again as she stares at her mother standing at the door. “is this really how you want to start the day?”

“it’s noon. the day started almost 3 hours ago.” her mother leans on the door frame of her bedroom. “you have to get up and do something. locking yourself up in here,” she pauses to look around the kiddish bedroom, “it won’t make you feel any better.”

“i just have a lot going on,” she mumbles, flipping herself to face the other side of the room. “i’ll come down in a while. i just need a couple minutes.”

“oh, my god, mama!” her voice echoes in the empty house, running down the steps with her mother following shortly behind her. “stop asking me about matt! i don’t want to talk about him right now!” she turns around at the bottom of the steps. “not with you; not with anyone!”

“i’m just trying to give him an answer, my love! he’s concerned for you. he said you haven't answered his messages all week,” her mother reprimands with her hands on her hips.

“that’s between matt and i and you have no say in this, sorry.” she raises her hands in the air to surrender before walking away. “it’s just none of your business.”

she’d just been relaxing in her room by herself when her mother came in trying to make conversation. she’d been receptive at first until she realised that she was trying to get her to talk about matt again.

which, she’s just not ready to open up about yet.

“it is if you’re acting this way! locking yourself in your room all day… fighting with dalton? don't even get me started on the way you can’t even clean up after yourself — you’re an adult now.”

“i’m an adult, yeah, so let me deal with my fucking problems however i see fit!” she laughs dryly and turns to face her mother again. “can i have some room to breathe? please? without everyone following closely behind me and staring at me like i’m pathetic?”

“we don’t think you’re pathetic!”

“i see the sorry in your eyes when you look at me! everyone seems to be looking at me that way lately!”

“my l–”

“just please leave me alone!”

so she gets in her car and drives away. she doesn’t know how long she drives for, tears in her eyes and chest heaving in sobs.

but she finds herself at the park nearby, one that she used to frequent with oscar and logan after school. she parks her car right by the roadside and forces herself onto the empty playground. she sits on the slide for hours until she feels slightly better.

she pushes the front door open with a heavy sigh. the sadness of pulling up in the driveway of her house worries her. it’s like the sadness seems to find a way to follow her everywhere.

everywhere she goes, it’s like there’s a dark cloud hanging above her head and she doesn’t know how to make it go away.

“where have you been?” ciara’s voice startles her, sending her a step back. “we’ve been worried sick for you after you left so abruptly before dinner! you weren’t even picking up your phone!”

“i just needed some time alone,” she says with a heavy sigh. she closes the door behind her and slips out of her shoes. “i was just at the playground i used to go to with logan and oscar. think i left my phone in my bedroom before i left and i went to grab dinner–”

“seriously? you’re not even sorry?” ciara screams, throwing her arms in the air. “we’ve been so worried sick for you since you walked out for no reason?”

she tilts her head. “no reason? mama has been grilling me about things i don’t want to talk about since i came back.”

“she’s concerned for you! we’re all concerned for you!”

“i didn’t ask for your concern! i’m asking you guys to leave me alone; give me some fucking room to breathe!”

“then why did you come all the way here just to lock yourself in your bedroom? if you want to be left alone, you should’ve just fucking stayed in london where you have an apartment where no one will fucking bother you!”

she huffs, hands on her hips. “fine. i’ll just go back. since it’s such a bother that i’m too sad to be here right now.” she stomps past her younger sister and up the stairs, heading right for her bedroom.

“don’t try and guilt trip me to feel sorry for you!” ciara chases after her. “it’s just not fair that you came all this way to be fighting with every single person in this household! just because blythe’s not here, doesn’t mean you’ll get away with this behaviour!”

“i’m not trying to guilt trip you,” she snarls, grabbing her bag from the ground and shoving her things, sprawled all over her room, into it. “but i’m sorry my feelings are such a burden to you guys. cause personally, i’m not having the best time.”

“if you’re not having the best time, don’t bring us down with you! it’s mama and papa’s anniversary! spend a little time not thinking of yourself for once!”

“i’ve spent my whole life not thinking of myself! you don’t know — you’re just a spoilt brat who got everything she wanted growing up! i actually had to work for the things i wanted.”

ciara scoffs, finally stepping into the room. “who gave you the right to act all high and mighty like you’re better than everyone? being the eldest kid doesn’t mean shit, genius.”

“well, what would you know about being the eldest kid? you never had to take care of anyone besides yourself; you never had to think of anyone but yourself.” she picks up kidnapper, sleeping on the foot of her bed and throws her bag over her shoulder. “just fuck off, ciara.”

“you’re not the only one with problems, you know,” ciara scoffs, folding her arms over her chest. “and what, you’re leaving? way to face your problems head-on.”

“i’m leaving because clearly i’m not wanted here,” the older girl sighs, pushing past the girl to her bedroom door. “so let me get out of your hair before my sadness becomes too contagious for your liking.”

“you’re leaving?” blythe says in shock, watching her older sister walk past her without another moment’s hesitation. “but i just got here. and isn’t the part tomorrow?”

“she’s throwing us the dramatics!” ciara announces with a loud laugh, running down the stairs to catch up with her older sister heading right for the front door. “she’s leaving because she can’t face the fact that she could be overreacting this one time!”

“overreacting?” blythe repeats, following both sisters down the stairs. “what are you guys even fighting about?”

“she left for hours with no contact!”

“i don’t even wanna stay long enough for you to paint me to be the villain,” the girl announces, pulling the front door open. “i’m leaving.”

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#fem!driver #f1 fem!driver #female driver #disneyprincemuke vr #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #vettel reincarnate

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dahlingplease · 3 months ago

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GET ART BY ENCOURAGING THE FDA TO GREENLIGHT EFFECTIVE VACCINES

[image: A tweet from we_are_ssd reading "Please email all weekend and call on Monday. Tell them we want Novavax approval ASAP. Call and tell them to pass along your message. 1-800-835-4709 Email everyone here:

[email protected]

[email protected]" end image description.]

Hey, with kids in school the new COVID vaccine needs to come *now*. NovaVax, as seen in the linked study helps reduce transmission by stopping virus replication in the nose and mouth (upper respiratory systems).

https://www.science.org/doi/10.1126/sciimmunol.adg7015#:~:text=In%20addition%2C%20both%20Novavax%20vaccines,activities%20of%20the%20serum%20antibody

I'll be doing doodles to encourage people to mail and call, just please prove yourself with email screenshots and call logs if you can. Other artists, I encourage you to incentivize in the same way.

[images: pencil drawings

Image one: two young women standing next to each other, each wearing collared shirts. Above them they are labled "you" "me" and below them are the words "and our collared shirts"

Image two: A young man pats his younger self on the head and quips "wow what's this guy's problem?" The younger self sneers and mutters "ugh don't touch me." End image description]

Remember to block out personal information when sending proof. Everyone stay well!

#COVID conscious #vaccines #artists against covid #free art #art challenge

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sunnie-angel · 4 months ago

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Part 3: The Invitation

part 2 | part 4 | series masterlist | ao3 link

jason todd x f!reader

summary: an invitation to jason doesn’t go as planned, but you find other ways to spend time together

tags: mostly fluff, some minor angst

rated explicit (mdni) | wc: 2.3k

a/n: this update is still fairly fluffy for this fic, but fair warning it is going to get darker in tone and content as the story continues. my chapter count just keeps increasing from my original outline (💀) so it’s taking longer to reach the darker elements but they will be coming.

The first week of term passes, and life resolves into a series of patterns. Jason slots neatly into your social circles with the confused grace of a man that’s not quite sure how he managed to find himself in his position but is grateful for it anyway. Walking to classes together turns into hanging out with your friends after. Invitations to grab a meal with the group get accepted more often than not. He’s only gone out with the group once, a Friday night that had started out in Danika’s apartment and ended with takeout shawarma from your favourite shop on Gilman Avenue. Snapshots of the evening remain in your memory, the casualties of letting Rei make the drinks.

Between your classes and internship picking up, there hasn’t been any time for going out since. Your days revolve around campus and promises to yourself to visit art exhibitions, to pick up groceries from the farmers’ market, to take advantage of the public library’s programs dissipate unfulfilled. It’s easier somehow, to let those promises to yourself slip away than it is to break a promise to your friends. Monday lunches and Wednesday study afternoons, the occasional movie night organized spontaneously. These commitments are easier to keep because they’re with someone else.

It becomes a weekly thing, then, sharing Jason’s lunch on Mondays. Went a bit overboard meal prepping on the weekends, he always offers, a sheepish hand running through his curls. You notice you’re the only recipient of his overzealousness though, and quietly you wonder. There’s a kind of warmth under your skin every time he pulls out a too large Tupperware container and turns to you, asking for your assistance. You’re not totally altruistic — the food’s too good for you to turn down — but the kind gesture makes you chafe a little bit after a while. All that kindness directed at you, nothing asked for in return, it doesn’t sit right, not with the way you were raised. Kindness was a commodity in the Alley, respected and well-received, but always returned. So you start returning the gesture. Snacks between classes and during study sessions appear out of your bag, pressed into Jason’s hands but never mentioned outright. Your grocery list gets the slightest bit longer but it’s worth it. The gesture soothes that itch in the back of your brain and every time you discover what makes the corners of his eyes crinkle up with pleasure you take careful note of it.

You’d thought, first, about returning his gesture in kind. A first text message with a pasta recipe you’ve never been able to replicate quite so perfectly never really materializes into the connection you’d hoped it would.

You: Dr Okafor said the quiz’s only on week 1-3 right?

You: sidenote I can’t quite get the pasta sauce right, you sure there’s nothing missing from the recipe you sent me?

Jason: weeks 1-4

Jason: shouldn’t be

Jason: you’re only adding the fresh herbs after you deglaze the pan right?

You: Yeah every time

Biting your bottom lip, you hesitate before finally pressing send. The cold light of your screen stares back up at you, unfeeling.

You: You could show me?

You: I’ve been meaning to host more at my place, maybe you can teach me and then I could feed you for once?

A typing bubble pops up on his end, then disappears just as abruptly. Nerves have you still chewing at your lip, the pit of your stomach tight with anticipation as it reappears.

Jason: maybe not this time, yeah?

Jason: my bad, it’s on weeks 1-3, week 4’s the next quiz

Taking a deep breath, you scrunch your eyes up. You want to kick yourself for getting your hopes up. The invitation was too personal, too much. It’s one thing to hangout in an apartment in the nicer side of town with friends and a completely different thing to invite him over to your apartment in the notorious Crime Alley to spend time alone. Even if the area is seeing better days under its new management, reputations don’t get shed as easily as snake skin.

You: Sure! No worries :)

You: oh you had me so stressed for a minute there

And it’s true, though you weren’t so much worried about the quiz as you were his response. But he’ll take what he wants from your answer, and you’ll get away with the truth. The truth is, you’ve become unreasonably greedy when it comes to Jason.

Spending time with Jason is easy. He’s got a sharp sense of humour, one that matches your own enough that you joke it’s the only gift Crime Alley gives to all her former residents. He doesn’t laugh often but when he does, you’re the cause of it more often than not.

“I can’t believe you think Nightwing’s best look was Discowing.”

“Wait— so hear me out Jason. Assuming Nightwing’s not, you know, immortal, he’s gonna get old. And when he’s old and in a nursing home he’s gonna tell his grandkids, “well back in my day” and then he’s gonna be able to whip out the Discowing photos. I’m talking intergenerational trauma when the kids realize “Oh no, grandad was hot AND insane.” It’s probably not your best work, but it turns his snorts into full belly laughter. Quite possibly it’s one of the most beautiful things you’ve seen.

So it might not be the immediate close connection you were hoping for on that first day of class, but it’s a friendship. One that’s all the more precious for the ways it's been unexpected. The anticipation of seeing him next carries you through the knowing looks you get from your friends. You’re a little more careful now, extending invitations only to places you’re sure won’t make him uncomfortable.

It’s a little hard to describe what exactly it is about Jason that draws you in, besides the obvious. He’s a deeply attractive person, all broad shoulders and sharp angles, though most of the time he seems uncomfortable with the effect his looks have on others. No matter how many times Lina calls him ‘pretty’, the answering red tinge of his ear tips never goes away. Probably, you decide, it has something to do with the enigma of him. The air of loneliness you’d noticed about him on that first day never quite dissipates. Even in the midst of a crowd there’s a sense that he’s still separate somehow. Despite the distance wrapped around him like his leather jacket, he never stops being kind.

Being around Jason is different than being around your other friends. You’ve known Danika since high school and her first cheerful insistence that we’re going to be best friends, I just know it. Lina, Rei, and Will had followed over the span of university, over long hours in the library and pulling out your hair over last minute assignments. They were good friends, good people, but you never lose the feeling that they expect a specific version of you. The version that got out of the Alley and made something of herself, with the uncertainties of where her next meal would come from or if the lights would still be on next week far behind her. Jason doesn’t have that same weight of expectation built on experience. There’s a sense that he’ll accept whatever version you present to him, even the one that still has a complicated relationship to the past and present. It’s been a scarce handful of weeks and yet he’s already seen you at your highs and lows.

The first time you’d shown up to one of your hangouts, just the two of you, bags the size of coins under your eyes hastily covered with concealer and caffeine jitters making your hands twitch like a marionette’s, he’d gently uncurled your fingers from where they’d clutched at your travel mug and simply listened.

“Sorry, sorry,” you’d tried to explain. “I didn’t mean to be late but I slept through my first two alarms and missed the bus I was going to take. Duvall’s midterm is later this week and that class has been killing me. It’s like he’s forgotten what it’s like being a student, and, you know, having more than one class to worry about.”

“D’you need to be off studying then?” He offers the out mildly, like he doesn’t know just how badly your sanity has been hanging on to the thin hope of seeing him before your exam. He doesn’t, so you can’t really fault him for it.

“No! No, it’s fine. I probably need a break from studying before my brain starts melting out of my ears. Or at least that’s what Will tells me.” You purse your lips together in remembered frustration at your friend’s thoughtless comment.

“But you don’t think so?” He prods.

“No, well— I don’t exactly disagree? Just that everyone else already finished their midterms and they don’t exactly have the same pressure of maintaining a scholarship like I do.”

“‘Kay then, let’s study. What’s Duvall got you doing?”

And you’re torn, really you are. This wasn’t supposed to be how your morning went. There was supposed to be coffee, maybe a shared lunch out on the quad in the last of the good (for Gotham) weather and some shared bitching about how truly terrible midterms are. Maybe a meandering discussion of how the pop culture status of the Justice League was diluting their mission, a point of contention you’d found Jason had surprisingly articulate opinions on. But you really need to do well on this exam, the lurking pressures of tight finances and the fear of failure of proving them right a constant soundtrack to your thoughts.

“I— are you sure? This was supposed to be us celebrating you finishing your exams, not studying for mine.”

“Look, you go grab a refill — something not caffeinated — and I’ll find us a spot to sit. We’ll do some practice questions, you’ll feel better about it, and then I won’t have to be mad at Will for bein’ an unthinkin’ ass. Really, you’d be helpin’ me out.” He grins, then stands up from the bench and dusts specks of imaginary dirt off his pants. “Go get your drink, I’ll be waitin’ on you.”

Jason’s pulled a blanket out of some infinite pocket of the universe and settled it right at the base of the big oak in the middle of the quad by the time you return, apple cider in hand. He looks over your course materials as you lean against the tree and sip on your drink, the stress that’s consumed you for the last two weeks starting to ebb. He’s got one knee propped up so he can balance a book on it and the other stretched out, the full length of it only a hair’s breadth from yours. You could swear you could feel the phantom heat of it anyway even through the morning chill. He nudges you with an elbow to get your attention, shows you the cover of the one short story that you’d struggled with the most but Duvall seemed to have the biggest love affair with. You groan, then start trying to break down the text.

“—so if we aren’t meant to be interpreting the main theme as ‘love of beauty’ then it’s got to be ‘love of life’ right?” You think out loud, frustrated with how the meaning of this text has eluded you.

“I don’t think it’s gotta be that specific. If we just assume the narrator’s motivations all start with love, the big capital L kind, then even all the crazy shit at the end makes sense too. Subject doesn’t matter ‘cause it's just there as the object of love.” And Jason’s good, really good at this. Breaking things down and seeing things from just left of centre. Makes you revisit your own ideas, trying to see that grey area where both of your ideas intersect.

“No but she clearly doesn’t love the woman in the first chapter. The narrator admires her and calls her beautiful, but she never interacts with the woman like she does with anyone or anything else in the rest of the text. If she doesn’t love the first woman doesn’t it disprove the idea of generalized love?”

“Maybe,” he breathes out consideringly. “Maybe it's not a generalized love, but I think the narrator does love the first woman. The narrator knows she’s descending into madness — maybe for her, the love was in the absence. ‘Cause if the narrator didn’t let on, then her most loved one wouldn’t be infected with the same rot. And all the other people an’ things were collateral damage, the scales balancin’ themselves with the narrator’s most unselfish act.”

“Okay, but isn’t that the most selfish part though? The narrator makes sure that there’s no one else around to hold her accountable for her own mistakes. And part of it’s madness, I’ll buy that, but I don’t think it’s really love if the narrator can bear to force the woman to a distance. The narrator is fully aware as she gives in to her paranoia and forces the woman into the distance between them. ”

Jason hums thoughtfully, but you can tell by the tone that he doesn’t fully agree with you. “I don’t think we’re gonna agree on this, but if you lay out all your thoughts just like that on paper you’ll ace the exam. Why don’t we do this one too?” He pulls out another short story from the pile on the blanket, and you grin, because this one, this one you could talk about for hours.

Being with Jason is easy. When you’re close enough to reach out and run your fingers through his curls if only you were brave enough. When you’re close enough to get a whisper of his cologne as he reaches past you for something and you can hear the creak of leather as it stretches over his bicep. Yes, being with Jason is easy. Just as long as it’s on his terms and by his invitation.

Part 4

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fic #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #jason todd x fem!reader #ydcmb (uibyt) series #sunnie writes🌻

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streamafterlaughter · 29 days ago

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Soundtrack to Disaster

Chapter II: A Place Uncharted and Overgrown

playlist | masterlist | pinboard | prev

song(s) for this chapter: Careful by Paramore, 365 by Charli XCX, Hardline by Julien Baker (for half a second)

chapter tags: cocky!kinda mean!fboy!eddie, swearing, drinking, drug (weed) use, implied sexual content | fic tags: Angst, hurt/(eventual) comfort, (eventual) smut, slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, Eddie Munson x Fem!OC!Reader, Modern AU | This fic is rated 18+ MDNI

taglist @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @kellsck @faggotinie @xplrnowornever @taccobelle send a message/comment to be added!

a/n: whatever is happening right now, don’t worry. it will get worse!

DISCLAIMER: I do not consent to having my work fed to AI engines, or reposted in any way, shape, or form on other websites. Unless otherwise stated, this is the only account that features and contains this work, and any replication was done without my consent. Please let me know if you see my work elsewhere. Reblog to support the author!

—

Your voice is hoarse by the time you pull into your driveway, surely waking the neighbors as your music leaks through your cracked windows, an angry repetition of YOU CAN’T BE TOO CAREFUL ANYMORE… You do, however, remember to crank it down before leaving your car, something future you will be thankful for.

You flick the light of your bare bones apartment on, glaring at the half your things still sitting in boxes. You keep telling yourself you’ll get to those.

Much to your discouragement, you’ve mostly accepted that Hawkins has swallowed you back into its cold and unforgiving bosom, at least for a while.

You’d left for college, obviously. Escaped to New York with a dream of becoming a published poet, a voice of the new generation. And though school was insightful, challenging, and everything you wanted; it was lonely. Art students are pretentious and judgmental, especially if you come from somewhere like Indiana. So you’d kept your head down and finished school alone, only to move back home with a useless degree, in thousands of dollars of debt, and with a brother in prison.

At least now my brother’s home, you think, trying to assuage the shame spiral. Home and as oblivious as ever, inviting Eddie to the bar.

You rise late, sunshine leaking into your second floor bedroom, provoking a groan from deep within your tired gut. Eddie’s here, in Hawkins. It’s been years since you’ve seen him, even longer since you’ve spoken. It leaves you with a lot of nagging questions you’re not sure you want the answers to.

You roll over, wrestling with your sheets tangled around your bare legs. You barely remember coming home, having blacked out the night with a red, angry rage that seems to have subsided with the night. You’re calmer now, almost zen.

Almost, until you remember what you’ve promised tonight. Parties aren’t usually of any concern; a few old friends and maybe a couple college kids with nothing better to do, but you dread it all the same. Eddie used to frequent Steve’s house parties to deal, even after you’d stopped speaking to him. Something about being “easy money,” he’d drunkenly explained to you once. You hope it doesn’t mean he’ll pick up the habit again, but you know deep down how naive that is.

“What’s the party even for?” You lean over the kitchen island to steal a chip from the bag, and Steve smacks your hand out of the way.

“Who says there has to be a reason for a party?”

“Anyone who wants to keep their house clean, for one.” Robin sneaks in from behind, snatching a handful of potato chips before Steve can catch her. “And I, for one, never agreed to hosting this party.”

“Co-hosting,” Steve reminds her, “and if you must know, it’s a party for Chris.”

“Didn’t we just have one of those?” You groan, and Robin hands you a chip, as if to apologize.

“Yeah, but that was nothin’. No offense, obviously I love your mom and the bar, but, cmon, you know he wants a rager.”

You really can’t argue with that, so you divert. “And you feel responsible to throw him?”

Steve presses his lips together, unable to combat the question. “We’re friends. Plus, it gives Robin an excuse to see Nance.” The last part is barely audible, but both you and Robin catch it, locking eyes, and she blushes. Nancy Wheeler, the Hawkins Girl Next door. Robin’s been pining over her since senior year of high school, with nothing to show for it.

Robin is harder to say no to than Steve. “Ugh, fine. I have one condition if you want me at this party.

Steve crosses his arms. “Bee, I can’t just not invite him.”

You shrug. “Okay, fine. Have a good time, let me know how it goes.” You grab your coat from the rack for emphasis.

“You’re bluffing.”

“You willing to bet on that?”

“What is your thing with him anyway?” Robin asks between munching on her chips, searching your face for a giveaway. “Like, I know he was there when Chris got cuffed, but is it really his fault your brother got caught?”

You’d never told your friends that Eddie had confessed, testified against your brother. Truthfully, you’d figured they’d find out on their own. You didn’t want to sway their opinions, you’d all been in the same friend group. Even now, you can’t bring yourself to explain the whole thing. “It’s a really, really long story that will kill the mood to tell.”

Steve huffs, hands on his hips. “You know I can’t use that to justify not inviting him.”

“Ugh, fine. But I’m gonna be pissy all night.”

He cracks a smile. “Whatever keeps you entertained, dork.”

Steve leaves you in charge of the music, giggling to yourself as you scroll through his playlist titles: Sad Boy Autumn, Night of Clubbin’, Hot Steve Summer. You land on his Party Rock Anthems, and scroll through what Steve believes to be, according to the playlist description, “The Ultimate House Party Jams.” What a fuckin’ dweeb. The first song to play when you shuffle is 365 by Charli XCX and you can't help but burst into laughter. He’s not wrong, of course, but you can’t even slightly believe that Steve has listened to this song, let alone added it to a playlist.

“Great choice!” A voice, light as a bell, rings from behind you, and you turn to greet its owner only to be met face to face with Chrissy Cunningham. The second to last person you’d expect to know this song.

“Oh, yeah,” You stutter, unsure of how to respond. You wouldn’t call yourself a 365 party girl, especially not right now.

“You here with anyone?” Her ponytail swings as she cocks her head to the side, inspecting you.

“Uh, nah, not really. Chris is my brother, this party’s for him.”

“Oh, yeah! You’re Bee, right?”

“To some,” You laugh nervously, hating to be preceded by your brother’s reputation. “And you’re Chrissy, right? I didn’t know you knew him.”

“Oh, I don’t really. I’m here on a date.”

“Who’s your-“

“Hey, baby.” No. God, no fucking way. Eddie seemingly appears from nowhere, sliding his arm around Chrissy’s waist, hand playfully low on her hip. Suddenly, you’re seething, teeth clenched together and you’re convinced you can feel the beginning of a migraine. “What’s got you talkin’ to the wet blanket? Drink not strong enough?” He eyes you, amused by the way your eye twitches.

“Eddie! Be nice, this is Chris’s sister!”

Eddie scoffs at her, head thrown back. “I know, Princess. Tweety and I go way back.”

“I thought you said your name was Bee?”

You shrug. “It’s one of ‘em. Tweety, however, is not.” Not anymore, but you don’t add that part out loud.

“Whatever. C’mon, let me introduce you to the other, way less sexy Chris.” And without another glance your way, Eddie takes his girl into the backyard.

“Fuckin’ asshole.” You mutter, adding another, much less fun song to the queue.

“Okay, enough moping!” Robin snatches your phone from you just as Julien Baker’s voice starts in, quickly switching it back to Steve’s clubbing playlist. “C’mon, let’s go dance!”

“Only if I can get another drink first.” Your rum and coke is gone, and you’re feeling far too sober to be in the same room as Eddie, let alone his date. The thought sends chills of what you can only assume are disgust up your spine. Poor Chrissy, Eddie must have charmed her into going out with him, how else do you explain that couple? What lies did he tell her to convince her he’s a decent enough guy?

“Hey, stop seething, I can see the foam about to come out of your mouth.” Robin snaps you out of seeing red, handing you a hard cider that you pout at. “I wanted a dirty shirley.”

“And I want you alive in the morning to help me clean this place up. As the host, I win by default.”

You huff dramatically, but take the can anyway. “Can you believe Eddie convinced Chrissy to come here with him?”

Robin only shrugs. “He’s not a bad guy, Beebs. I think deep down, you know that.”

You bite your tongue. It is not your place. Your personal grievances are not your friends’ problems. “Maybe, but they’re so different.”

Robin shrugs. “It was either Chrissy or—“ She cuts herself off abruptly, and when you try to meet her eyes she averts them.

“Or who, Rob?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing, never mind. Hey, look! Your brother’s here!”

You cock an eyebrow at her, but she’s not budging, pointing towards the entryway where your brother is being greeted in all directions. Someone hands him a beer, while another friend sparks a joint before passing it to him. It amazes you how loved your brother is after the hell he raises, and people barely register you exist, let alone that you’re his sister.

“Hey, kiddos!” Chris breaks away from his mob of fans to greet you and Robin, embracing you both in a group hug. Luckily, your brother doesn’t give a shit about how cool the rest of Hawkins thinks you are. He offers a hand out to Steve behind you. “Thank you for putting all this together, man. Means a lot.” Robin opens her mouth to argue, but closes it when Chris looks at her. “And thank you for letting him destroy your place for the night. I’ll help you with the damage in the morning.” He winks at Robin, who gives him the biggest toothy smile possible.

“Chris, man, you comin’ out? We’re playin’ beer pong.” One of Chris’s buddies, Gareth, offers him the tiny plastic ball.

“Oh, fuck yeah, man. But only if you’re on my team, I'm not losing to you and Eds at my own party.”

It’s three rounds before Chris and Steve convince you to play, Gareth having tapped out for the night to puke in the bushes. Eddie snickers to his cronies as you approach the table, sliding your windbreaker from your arms. For some reason, the exposure of your skin shuts him up, and you flex your fingers dramatically before plucking the ball from Steve’s hand. “You’re goin’ down, Sweetheart.” Eddie jabs his ringed pointer finger at you, and your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

He seems to notice his slip up, clearing his throat dramatically. “You gonna play, or what?”

You blink once, twice before nodding, suddenly feeling the effects of your earlier drinks. Have you eaten tonight?

You aim as well as your body allows, managing to sink the ball into the back corner cup. Your friends cheer, high diving each other before each extending a hand to you, and Eddie groans, removing the plastic before downing the cup and removing it from the lineup. “Beginner’s luck.”

“Oh, please!” Robin scolds from beside you. “Ballsy for someone to say after losing two out of the last three.” The small crowd of gathered acquaintances chuckle, earning a weak glare from a very intoxicated Eddie before he sets up his shot, effortlessly dropping the ball into the center cup. You begrudgingly remove it, chugging the lukewarm beer while your friends cheer and boo, all in good fun.

It mostly continues like that, a neck and neck game between your team consisting of you, Chris, and Steve against Eddie, Jeff, and a very giggly Chrissy. By the end, the backyard is on a tilted axis, and only one cup remains in front of either team.

“You ready to tap yet?” Eddie taunts, though he’s been leaning over the table for the last couple rounds, arms bracing him from falling to the ground.

“You wish, Munson.” And you let it fly, but your face falls when you realize you’d been too cocky, too soon. It bounces higher than you’d anticipated, sailing right over the cup and onto the ground, everyone’s eyes glued to it. “Fuck.” Robin snickers and you snap your head to glare at her. “Thank you for that vote of confidence.” You sneer, and she stifles another giggle fit.

“This is it, honey, for all the marbles.” You think he’s talking to Chrissy until he winks directly at you, the corner of his mouth pinching into a smirk. You look from him to his date to find her pouting, eyebrows scrunched together and arms crossed. You raise an eyebrow, unsure how to reassure the former cheerleader.

While you’re not looking, Eddie sinks the ball. Which, let’s be honest, you knew that was coming. You roll your eyes and lift the piss flavored drink to your lips, chugging with an open throat to avoid tasting it. Your friends and brother cheer you on, and when you slam the solo cup onto the table, you let out a massive belch. Eddie’s grin has split into a toothy beam, eyes wide with wonder, penetrating your very soul. Fuckin’ weirdo.

When your dizziness has subsided, you find Robin on the makeshift dance floor, a drink dangerously spilling over in her hand. “Hey, grouchy!” She calls you over, beckoning with her dance moves. You play along, pretending to be roped in by her lasso. “What’s got you all frowny now?”

You shrug, shaking your hips to a song you can’t place, trying to enjoy your buzz now that you’re not seeing double. “Guess I’m taking beer pong too seriously.”

Robin snorts. “Please, when have you ever given a shit about stupid drinking games?”

“I guess since Chris is home. Wanted to impress him.” Robin eyes you, biting her lip. “What?” You pry, and when she doesn’t answer, poke her in the ribs. “Cmon, spit it out.”

“I don’t think it was Chris you were trying to impress.” She winces, awaiting an outburst that doesn’t come. Instead, you reply with a monotone “Excuse me?”

She smiles tensely, all teeth and gums. “Sorry, I call em like I see em.” Robin’s eyes slide past you, landing over your shoulder. When you snap your head to find what she’s looking at, your eyes fall on Eddie, a beer forgotten in his hand as he whispers in Chrissy’s ear. He must be hilarious, because she can’t stop fucking laughing.

“Oh, you can’t be serious. You think I'm worried about what Munson has to say about me?”

She refocuses on your face, brows furrowed. “Maybe not what he has to say, but definitely what he thinks.” You gape at her, unable to respond with something clever. She only pats your shoulder. “It’s alright, you’ll figure it out soon enough.”

“Okay, everyone out. You don’t have to go home, but ya can’t stay here.” Steve is waving people out the door, thanking them for destroying his and Robin’s apartment with a tired smile on his face. Finally, shuts the door. “That everyone?”

“Uh, no. We have some stragglers.”

Steve looks around the main room, then the kitchen. “Where?”

Robin juts her thumb to Steve’s bedroom. “Sorry, man.” You stifle a giggle with a cough, throwing another beer can into the recycling bin.

“Every damn time!” Steve stomps up to the door and starts banging. “Hey, party’s over. Put your pants back on!” He throws his bedroom door open, and you and Robin peer over his shoulders like nosy children.

“Whoa!” The larger figure scrambles, throwing the duvet over their head, while the smaller one shrieks, covering her face as Steve flicks the light on.

“Oh, come on. Eddie?”

“Hi, Stevie.” He slowly emerges from the blanket. “Funny running into you here.”

“It’s my room, idiot! Get out!”

“Okay, okay! Shit, I thought you wanted my help cleaning this shithole tomorrow!”

Steve huffs. “Doesn’t mean you can occupy my room and soil my sheets like this.”

Eddie gasps in mock offense. “I’ll have you know I’m very clean, just had all my shots.” Steve only glares, but he gets the message across. “Okay! Damn. Sorry, Chrissy. I’ll call you, yeah?”

The girl rolls her eyes, face still cherry red. “Whatever, Eddie.” She snatches her shirt off the ground, and Steve turns to give her privacy. “Sorry, Steve. He said it was okay.” She avoids your eyes as she leaves, Eddie waving goofily behind her. Something in your chest hurts, and you chock it up to rage.

“You want sloppy seconds, Bee?”

You ignore him, and make your way back to the kitchen to rage clean. Over your shoulder, you hear your brother exclaims something, but you can’t make it out.

#st #fics #munson #sdf #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #fem!reader #oc!reader #fboy!eddie #mean!eddie #enemies to lovers #angst #hurt/comfort #hurt/no comfort #modern au #strangerthingscentral #willow writes sins

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theroyalsims · 6 months ago

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THEROYALSIMS ZARA DRESS

I loved Zara's RL look during last week's garden party at the palace, so I decided to replicate it in my game!

Along with the original design (white dress + pink buttons), I also added a few swatches with contrasting white and black details. The dress is NOT BGC. It requires the Cottage Living EP. It's available for female teens-elders, and is disabled for random. It also has a custom icon for easier identification in-game. You can find it under the "long dress" and "everyday" categories.

This has been tested in my game, but if you come across any issues, please let me know. My inbox is open, just send me a message.

For my TOUs and FAQs, please see attached links.

You can find the dress here. (EA, Patreon.)

Thank you to all the talented CC creators whose items I used for the previews! And of course, I'd like to give all my Patrons a huge thank you as well!

Happy Simming! Enjoy!

XOXO,

TRS

#ts4 #theroyalsims #ts4 cc #ts4cc #ts4 cc finds #ts4ccfinds #ts4 dl #ts4 download #ts4 custom content #ts4 cas #ts4 fashion #ts4 dress #ts4 royal cc

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sytoran · 2 years ago

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𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄 ⌇ possesive!wandanat headcanons

request: can you do yandere wandnat x kidnapped reader. where wanda and natasha promised you more freedom if you can fuck the living hell out of them. contains: yandere!wandanat, dom!reader, explicit sexual content, strap-on sex, emotional manipulation, mentions of drunk sex, elements of noncon notes: not really comfy with kidnapping, but this was a fun req so i just wrote wandanat as really possesive lmao warning: darker themes and smut, proceed with caution

masterlist

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ THE BEGINNIGS:

it was supposed to be a one night stand, but when you tried to crawl out of their bed at 6 in the morning, you were forcefully shoved back into bed by the scarlet witch

you were scared at first, this having been the result of a stark party with lots of alcohol. you were only there because bucky was your best friend and he had invited you

but you never expected one thing to lead to another to lead to a passionate few hours in a bed with the scarlet witch and black widow

you were trying to insist that you had to go for work, and it was slightly unnerving how mischievous their eyes were, almost scheming

it was a dangerous game you played last night, much less with two avengers, so of course you were saying that it was just for one night and you had to leave

but then they were giving you sad eyes, begging you to stay just a little while longer, and wrapping you into warm hugs, intentionally shoving your face between their tits, reminding you of last night's escapades

and then your cheeks grew warm again, realizing you couldn't really deny two of the most gorgeous women ever, so you let them pull you back into bed to replicate the previous night's activities

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ THE ENTRAPMENT:

before you knew it, you found yourself in a relationship-but-not-really with wanda and natasha

you really just wanted to consider it a fuck-buddies type situation, but from the way they acted you knew they wanted more than just that

you would be shoving your fingers up wanda's cunt, and you would be grunting at how wet she was, while all the redhead could blabber was "mine" over and over, like you could ever really be hers

then natasha would pull you into a searing kiss through your belt loops, with gentle kisses and much more sensual intimacy than just fuck buddies

looking into their expectant eyes, and feeling butterflies in your chest, that's when you knew you had lost the battle of temptation

the girls get progressively clingier, texting you more often and leaving voice messages of choked moans of your name

telling them lightheartedly to 'stop it, it'll only make me think about you two more', but they would just giggle and send you more, and those were the only things that could get you off those days

you never knew how to say no to them, so whenever they called you over for a quick fuck, you just nodded along and ignored the blaring warning signs

and that's where it started going downhill

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ THE DEAL:

with the recent influx of avengers-level threats, wanda and natasha were gone more often than not

the absence of their presence really took a toll, knowing that you had fostered somewhat of a dependency for the redheads over time spent with them

with the knowing that you had never really officiated a proper relationship with the two, it was probably okay for you to find other partners to quell your sexual desires, right?

wrong.

you hadn't even been able to take the pretty girl's coat off before she was being knocked out by the black widow in your kitchen

all you could do was stare shell-shocked

before you knew it, wanda and natasha were the ones taking you to bed, pulling you into bed and saying that no, you were only allowed to ever be with them

you tried to protest but the sight of wanda kneeling to suck on your strap-on, and natasha putting your hands over her breasts to feel her hardened nipples had your head reeling

"you wanna be with other people, hm? then you better fuck the living hell of us first."

and so you did, pulling wanda in closer by the locks of reddish-brown hair, and she let out a pretty gag, looking at you through lowered lashes and doe eyes

you began fucking her mouth, hearing it hit the back of her throat with each thrust, and you wiped away her pearly tears with your thumb

on the other hand, natasha was kissing you upside down, her nose bumping against your chin

you quickly grew impatient, and soon you had them both laid down and took turns fucking their drenched pussies

when you were done, you were fucking breathless, having been slamming into both of them non-stop for nearly two hours, cheeks flushed and hair disheveled

so as the black widow sat down on your face, with the scarlet witch sinking herself down onto your strap-on, your prior fears and apprehension completely faded away

taglist: @simp4wanda26 @natashamaximoff69 @ohsugar-honey-iced-tea @fayhar @bibliophilicbi @screechcat @rowanyaboats @nahnahnahwhat @the-night-owl-blr @matchasrad @wannabe-fic-reader @natsxwife @wandsmxmff @enanna-h @gay4lizzie @jemilyswhor3

if you want to join the taglist, simply drop in my inbox! if you want to remove yourself from the taglist by any chance, you can just drop an ask in my inbox as well. thanks for reading even though this was kinda shit :/

AND YES I KNOW I KNOW JEALOUS!WANDA IS COMING (in more ways than one)

masterlist

#marvel women #marvel smut #wanda maximoff smut #natasha romanoff smut #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #x reader #wlw smut #gxg smut #top reader #dom reader #bottom natasha romanoff #sub wanda #wanda maximoff x reader smut #natasha romanoff x reader smut #my works #wanda maximoff imagine #natasha romanoff imagine

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gracefulserpent1207 · 1 year ago

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I feel like people are forgetting that the SAG AFTRA strikes were not JUST about getting better pay for actors and writers. Another very big benefit of the strikes, that is more overlooked than people care to admit, is protection against AI.

The reason why people overlook the damage that AI does to actors (including voice actors) and writers (as well as many others) is because people just aren't educated enough on it and this is because it is being advertised to be this amazing, technological advancement that will save the economy when it's actually the complete opposite. AI is damaging the economy because it is putting so many people out of jobs. Not to mention the fact that strikes are usually concentrated around getting better pay for people, so when uneducated people hear about the SAG AFTRA strikes, they tend to assume that it's because the actors/writers that are striking are just asking for more money (which they ARE doing and which they have the right to do because the pay they get stinks) and so avoid the other, equally important factors.

There are so many cases where I've seen AI being advertised/used in a "positive" way recently. This included a boy from my college mentioning how he couldn't be bothered to do the homework that had been set, so he just used AI to write his homework for him. Are we really seriously going to allow this to happen? Are we seriously going to allow young people to neglect their education and use AI to fake work for them, getting them target/expected grades that are much higher than what they're actually going to get, giving them false hope?

Another example from what I've seen includes an ad on TV for a new phone that used AI with the camera, and boy did this ad piss me off. Part of the ad sees a group of teens taking a picture, in which they are all frowning, with this phone. They then use the AI included with the camera to edit the picture so that they are all smiling. Why? Was it not easy enough to ACTUALLY smile? If not, was it because they genuinely aren't happy? And if that's the case, should we really be sending a message to TEENAGERS to just hide the fact that they aren't happy and fake a smile instead? Use AI to cover up the fact that you're struggling? No. No we should not.

I know a lot of people reading this probably think I'm reaching or overreacting, but AI does genuinely have a long term effect in these cases.

But I think the most common, most damaging example of people using AI that I've seen is from social media, specifically TikTok but other platforms as well. And this is the use of AI voice filters.

The SAG AFTRA strikes have worked hard to benift actors of all kinds, including voice actors, and the reason I'm drawing so much attention to this fact is because people just aren't getting it into their heads how DAMAGING AI voice filters are for voice actors. Several voice actors have already lost their jobs from being replaced by AI that can replicate THEIR voices, the voices that form part (the most important part) of their identity. Not to mention how damaging it can be for voice actors' dignity to hear their own voice coming from something else, especially considering how this "something else" can replicate within MINUTES what they had to perfect for YEARS. Voice actors put so much effort into getting their voices to be perfect for the role that they're playing, yet AI undermines that effort by imitating those "perfect voices" within minutes. Voice actors actually care about their roles/characters and the fans that love these characters. AI does not. All it does is copy. Yet companies would rather have heartless machines working for them than real life people who actually care about bringing characters to life for fans.

And you wanna know what the worst part is?

Apparently, those "fans" would rather hear AI voicing their favourite characters too.

Because it is YOU (the fans) who create, use and/or like AI voice filters on TikTok/Twitter/Tumblr. It is YOU who cannot accept the fact that your favourite character's VA didn't say the crappy line you came up with at 2am that you commented to them on Twitter, so instead used AI to make the character say it yourself because OBVIOUSLY you're gonna drop dead if you DON'T hear them say that line. Obviously, you can't go on with your life without causing a completely innocent and good person to lose their job AND their dignity for your own entertainment.

Another VERY big issue with AI voice filters is that the majority of voice actors whose voices I have heard being used with AI have specifically said that they do NOT support AI and do NOT wish for people to use AI to replicate their voice. Obviously, some people may not know this, but others do and they choose to ignore it. This does not just go for the people who create the filters. It goes for the people who use and/or show support for it too (such as liking videos that use a filter, etc. ) because you are spreading the use of AI and making companies more aware of it and how easy it is to use, and are therefore causing actors to be replaced. How would you feel if you heard your own voice being used by strangers without your consent for their own entertainment?

So for that reason, I am going to say what most people are just too scared to say:

Fans are just as responsible for the SAG AFTRA strikes for using AI as the companies that have been treating actors/writers like shit for years.

If you have EVER created/used/liked/reblogged/reposted/shared/etc. a video that uses an AI voice filter, please please please PLEASE go back and delete/unlike the video, and NEVER do it again. Do NOT interact with videos using AI voice filters AT ALL. If you get a video on your TikTok fyp, it's not that hard to just scroll past and ignore. If you're still not sure what kind of videos I'm referring to, a good example of a popular AI voice filter that I've seen recently that people need to STOP using is a filter of Luz Noceda (voiced by Sarah-Nicole Robles, who has specifically NOT given consent for AI replications of her voice to be used) and Hunter Whittebane (voiced by Zeno Robinson, who has also specifically NOT given consent for AI replications of his voice to be used) from The Owl House singing She Wolf by Shakira. If you have EVER interacted with this filter, please go back and undo however you interacted with it and spread this message to others.

I'd like to end this "rant post" by saying that I am NOT in anyway an actor/voice actor, but I am an aspiring writer. I remember one day earlier this year seeing something on the news about how companies were considering replacing human writers with AI and how in a certain amount of years, human writers may not even be needed anymore, and this scared the shit out of me because writing has ALWAYS been my dream and I thought my future was over before it had even began.

So in conclusion, PLEASE spread awareness of how damaging AI can be (for actors, voice actors, writers, etc.) and PLEASE make sure to NOT interact with it when you see it being used, unless you are asking another person to stop creating/using/interacting with it. And if you see a VA asking for people to NOT use AI to replicate their voice, just do the bare fucking minimum and respect their wishes. Your life isn't over just because you didn't get to hear Luz and Hunter singing She Wolf. Put the livelivoods of other people before your own entertainment. Thank you.

P.s. I'm gonna tag this post with fandoms that I've seen use AI for replicating voices (to spread awareness), especially if a VA from that fandom has specifically asked for it not to be used. Feel free to reblog and add tags of your own for any fandoms that you think I've missed.

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httpsserene · 1 year ago

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𝐡𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐟𝟏 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥

𝘂𝗽𝗹𝗼𝗮𝗱 𝟳: 𝗽𝗶𝗲𝗿𝗿𝗲 𝗴𝗮𝘀𝗹𝘆 𝘅 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 | 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗰𝗵𝗰𝗿𝗮𝗳𝘁

📖𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: witch!reader and potions master!pierre run a cute little shop to fulfill anyone’s magical needs. it’s nearing valentine’s day, and the shop is bombarded with desperate humans looking for love charms & potions, even though there’s no magic spell strong enough to replicate true love. oddly, news travels from a few villages over that there’s a potions master who managed to make a real love potion. pierre has to get his hands on it—for the bit, obviously. there’s no way it will work. 📖𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: 18+ only. explicit. not beta read. witchcraft. familiars. cunnilngus. aphrodisiacs. inherent dubcon. vaginal sex. unsafe sex. sudden orgasm? desperation. coming inside. vague structure and explanation of magic. 📖𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 5k words. 📖𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: pierre gasly x fem!black!reader 📖𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: oneshot. 📖𝘀𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸: need to know • doja cat

𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲: inspired by amortentia. what can i say at every fanfic writer's core, they’ve read an unhealthy amount of hp ff’s, i don’t make up the rules. we know pierre is a fiend, but uh, i do not even feel like i truly tapped into his true unhinged power with this. n joy, loves !!!

do you want to be added to my general taglist? send me an ask!

cross-posted on my ao3, htppsss

to see what kinktober uploads have already been completed or to see what's coming next check my f1 kinktober masterlist ! for all of my works see my general masterlist!

the shop has been open for fifty-five minutes and it’s already been overwhelmed by desperate humans. valentine’s day is tomorrow; and every naive soul is scrambling to get a love charm or potion. the problem with that is: there’s no magic spell or potion able to mirror true love. however, nobody coming into the shop appreciates that answer.

after the third time a customer hysterically screamed at you for saying there’s no such thing as a ‘love spell,’ you made a slight tweak to the doorbell. now, every time the door opens a bass-boosted audio of you screaming, “LOVE POTIONS, CHARMS, OR SPELLS DO NOT EXIST” echoed through the shop. unfortunately, that message did not seem to help. you had to change the way you welcomed customers when they stepped up to the counter.

“good morning! welcome in to runes and brews; if you’re looking for a spell of true love, it doesn’t exist. nor does a potion or charm. the most i can offer is a hyperfixation charm, which makes the subject pay more attention to you for twelve hours. this charm doesn’t affect their emotions, you still have to make them attracted to you with your, hopefully, natural charm. are you interested in one, they’re buy-one-get-one free for valentine’s day?”

your customer service grimace smile is stained across your lips as you parrot the same words to each customer. you’ve become an npc. the customers try to interrupt your spiel, but you act as if it’s a piece of unskippable dialogue. if they’re going to come here and harass you over their inability to rizz somebody up—they’re sure as hell going to listen when you speak. at this point, you’ve adopted the ‘it is what it is’ mentality. you’re selling a record number of hyper-fixation charms, you think you might run out of your entire supply hours before the store closes.

at first, you felt a little guilty about selling these charms to the desperate souls. all they want is true love and you can only offer a temporary fix. but after you’ve been screamed at countless times for telling these non-magiques that you can’t supply them with what they’re asking for, the guilt quickly transforms to ‘idgaf.’ with a twitching eye, you kindly told the customers inside the store to wait just a few seconds while you adjusted the door’s charm.

you grab the outer doorknob with a hand covered in lapis powder, and imbue it with your aura to edit the current protection spell. thankfully, you remembered to meditate this morning, so casting comes easily. you breathe deeply, before releasing the handle and you make your way back towards the customers. and suddenly, the amount of people entering the shop decreases dramatically.

you have such a manic grin on your face that the customers inside the building stare at you in mild terror. one of the humans swallows their fear, and asks the question they’re all afraid to hear the answer to, “w-what did you do to the uh- to the d-door?”

the lights brighten around you as your grin grows larger, and you nonchalantly answer, “the door reads your intentions before you step inside. if a customer plans to come in and harass me over what is magically impossible, they get cursed.”

the humans gasp in fear, and you’re eyes widen in realization, “oh! no-no, don’t worry, it’s nothing bad! it’s just a floating rose that screams out ‘i have no rizz’ to every person they talk to for the next forty-eight hours. they’ve ruined their own valentine’s day with their terrible manners,” you state proudly.

the mass of customers inside thins out pretty quickly after that.

thankfully, the door charm seems to do the trick with keeping out unruly folks. you’re able to start working on requests from your usual customers—the barkeep needs her rune for a bottomless keg replenished, the butcher needs his new set of utensils charmed with sharpness, the baker’s assistant needs your help working on the heating charm for the warming-tables, and so on and so forth. you get a new vampire customer today, requesting a sunshade potion—they indulge in telling you that they’re planning to spend valentine’s day outside with their human partner as a surprise. you coo at the vampire adorably as you check them out, and you see their cheeks faintly tint with pink—they must have fed recently. this is why being open for valentine’s day is worth it to you; customers like this remind you that true love still exists.

you wish him luck with his surprise, and hand over the potion, which was made by your true love, pierre. who was supposed to be helping you in the shop about thirty minutes ago. he claimed to have to run out and get a few extra supplies to be able to fulfill all of his orders, but that he’d be back before the shop opened. when he shows his face, the true love between you two may not exist anymore. because you’re going to kill him for hanging you out to dry. you sigh, and make your way into the back storage closet to get a fresh box of dried peonies for the new batch of hyperfixation charms, when you hear the doorbell scream the warning message.

you call-out, “give me one moment and i’ll be right up to help you out! feel free to look around in the meantime!” you summon the box of peonies forward, and spell it to float after you as you make your way out.

turning the corner, you automatically begin your npc introduction, “good morning! welcome in to runes and brews; if you’re looking for a spell of true love, it doesn’t exist. nor does a potion or charm. the most i can offer is a hyperfixation charm—oh, it’s just you—ohmygod—how did you pick up my door curse??”

pierre stares at you in a mixture of bewilderment and amusement, as the rose screams “I HAVE NO RIZZ,” at you. you can only laugh, and summon your phone to your hand to take a video. pierre laughs in reflex, still not sure what’s going on, and suddenly he’s being climbed over like a cat tree by your familiar.

“aha!” you exclaim. “i’ve been looking for you all day, ma’am. what pocket of the universe were you hiding in? you always disappear when the non-magiques come around instead of defending me, cat. what kind of familiar are you?”

pierre struggles to wrangle cat off of his head from where she’s fucking up the rose hanging over him. he side-eyes you heavily when he still sees you recording the whole interaction, and you put the phone down before you step over to get cat off of his head. “madame catalytic converter!” you yell with the force of your ancestors.

yes, you named your familiar catalytic converter, cat for short. it makes perfect sense, she improves your efficiency and decreases the chance for any harmful side-effects when you do magic; just like the car part. pierre says that’s why she never listens to you, for giving her a terrible name. when you asked him what he would’ve named her, he said, “probably, escargot, or something.” you said that’s probably why she hates him more.

you remove the curse from pierre with a quick touch of your hand to his forehead, and the rose poofs away. madame catalytic converter, hops away quickly, uninterested in either of you again, and struts away to sit on top of the box of peonies you brought up. you narrow your eyes at your familiar, “oh—so you’re not even going to explain yourself? where were you?”

cat stares at you dead in the eyes, before she looks away and starts licking her calico fur clean, dismissing you. you scoff, rolling your eyes, and turn to pierre, “and where were you, monsieur?” you ask, poking a finger to his chest.

pierre presses a kisses to your cheek in greeting, and raises the one bag he has in his hand as part of his answer, “i told you i was running errands, remember?”

you purse your lips at him, and he smiles at you, wrapping an arm around your waist to try and pull you in for a kiss. you smack your teeth disapprovingly, gripping his jaw with your hand, and holding him back, “yeah, you told me you were getting extra supplies. plural. and, that you’d be back in time to open the shop.”

pierre avoids your eyes, chuckling anxiously.

“i’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but, you’ve only come back with one item, and it’s well past the time the shop opened,” you pause, letting pierre simmer, “explain yourself.”

“okaysoilied,” pierre rushes out, and you hum in shock sarcastically, gesturing for him to continue, “but—but! mon amour, i’ve come back with something that could potentially level up my potion making skills!”

you stare at him unamused, “oh ok—well, show me, what is this wonderful thing?”

pierre shifts on his feet, and you are suddenly afraid to know what he’s bought. if his confidence is faltering, you know whatever’s in that bag cannot be good.

“so, you remember how people were saying the potion shop a few towns over has actual love potions,” pierre starts eagerly, you nod in resignation, already knowing where this is going, “i bought one! well, two actually. i tried to bug the potion maker into telling me what he put in it, but he was so shifty about it. which is completely understandable, if i made a new potion as great as this, i wouldn’t tell anybody my secrets either.”

“okay, pierre,” you sigh, rubbing a hand across your face, disappointed, “why did you buy two of them?”

“oh,” pierre begins, his usual ludicrous smirk returning to his expression, “one for me to study, and one for me to take! the best way to see if it works is to test it out myself.”

you tug his hand off your waist, and step away from him, pointing at him in vindication, “that’s why my curse worked on you! you’re harassing me with this goddamn love-potion shit—you snake, we both know it’s not real!”

pierre groans, following after you as you storm back to the front counter, the peony box floating over as well, cat yowling at the sudden movement.

“oh, come on, mon amour,” pierre pleads, brandishing the love potion at you, “where is your hunger for magical breakthroughs? aren’t you curious to learn how it works?”

“pierre, babe, it doesn’t work! that’s why i don’t care! and, why would it work on you? we’re already a true love’s match. we’re soul-tied!”

“so, there’s no harm in me taking it,” pierre claims, like he’s found a loophole.

“pierre, you shouldn’t,” you warn him. the potions master deflates at your words, and you sigh at the sight of his point. you take a few steps to press your lips to his in a sweet kiss, and your aura swells with pierre’s love passing to you.

“if you do end up taking it, which you probably will anyways, at least take the time to properly study it. you don’t know if they’re any weird side effects,” pierre perks up, his blue-green eyes losing their saddened look immediately. he happily presses a few more kisses to your lips, and pulls away before pressing a kiss to your hand.

“i will! i’m going to go to the back now and start studying it—“

“uhm, no you are not! you still have to help me run this store, sir! i have plenty of things for you to do. starting with cleaning our cauldrons!”

pierre groans in disgust and whines like a child, “mon amour! please, you know i hate doing that. you can do it with a snap of your fingers, why do i have to do it with manual labor?”

you arch a sharp brow at him, and gently remind him of his behavior, “you shouldn’t have lied to me then, hm?” pierre sulks, and moves towards the back to get started on cleaning the cauldrons.

“don’t look so sad—i could’ve had you collecting the eyes of spiders!”

pierre cringes when he accidentally slams the drawer of his desk closed, pausing cautiously to listen for any movement in the house. it’s late, and you’ve gone to bed hours ago; he’s stayed up trying to identify what exactly this so-called love potion is made out of, and what order of processes it was created with. the frenchman is certain that there are at least seven ingredients in the brew: mature peonies, smashed pearls, crushed dates, powdered rose thorns, rose water, and a potion base of moonstone and lapis. it’s odd, because to pierre the potion smells like warmed vanilla, shea butter, a dash of espresso, and a brush of peppermint—but with every extraction he makes from the potion, there’s no sign of those ingredients. in addition to that mystery, he can tell that this potion took a few weeks to prepare and that it needed constant stirring. he can figure out when ingredients were added to the potion based on how much affect the cooking and heat had on them; the dates and pearls were first, followed by the rose thorns, and it seems like the peonies were added last—he just can’t figure out how they were integrated in the brew. were they added in batches, all at once, did they need changes in stirring motion, etc..

putting aside all the unknowns, there is one thing that pierre is sure of: none of the ingredient combinations in this potion would cause any harmful side effects. the powdered rose thorns and crushed pearls are a rare sight in potions but, they create the base of hyperfixation charms and he hasn’t heard of any reports of strange or harmful reactions from these two ingredients. so, the only responsible option for the potions master is to drink the concoction and see if it lives up to be the ‘true love’ potion everyone is claiming it to be.

pierre knocks the draft back quickly and hums pleasantly at the taste, a curious eyebrow raised at how it doesn’t mirror the scent at all. the flavor is sweet and tangy, with a lingering dash of saltiness—it’s delicious. he finds himself wishing he didn’t waste the first potion with experiments so he could taste it again.

the potions master rocks back and forth on his feet impatiently, he expected the brew to take immediate effect, alas, he feels nothing. pierre shrugs, the potion may take longer to kick in if it’s replicating one of the strongest emotions. he leaves his study and makes his way to the bedroom, and right before he enters the bedroom, he stumbles over cat. your familiar looks at him reproachfully, before she pauses and comes over to sniff at pierre. in the dark, he can see the calico’s eyes shrink into pupils and suddenly she hisses up at him, before she apparates into thin air. pierre scratches at his scalp in a confused manner; cat hissing at him and then disappearing, is not out of the ordinary (it reminds him of the you first brought him home and he tried to charm her with a laser pointer—the familiar stared at pierre like he disparaged her family name), he doesn’t know if that was a reaction just because of him, or if it was a reaction to the potion.

he continues with his usual nightly routine before he joins you in bed, dressed in a pair of old sweatpants alone. you pout in your sleep, pierre can feel your aura calling to him, unhappy that he’s not curled up against you. he tucks you into his chest when he settled comfortably on his back. he feels your magic calm, the air relaxing when the force of your influence fades.

the potions master tries to stay up for as long as he can to see if he notices an effect from the brew, but deflates when he doesn’t feel any changes. he knows the chances of this potion working was slim to none, however, he kind of hoped it at least had some effect on him. pierre’s eyes flutter shut as he drifts to sleep, and his last conscious thought is that you were probably right, the potion may not have an effect on true love’s matches.

you squirm awake. it’s boiling hot under the sheets and it shouldn’t be, you placed a cooling charm on the bed. as the fog of sleep unfortunately fades from your mind, you notice that the heat is radiating from pierre. turning around in worry and slight annoyance, you check in on your boyfriend, and the annoyance disappears when you examine his state.

he’s still asleep, but he’s drenched in sweat. his brow is furrowed in what must be pain, and his body squirms across the bed in discomfort. you press a hand to his forehead and hiss at the burning heat from his skin. you groan, already knowing what happened to your dumb potions master—he should be stripped of his title after this. he was working on the damn potion before you went to bed, and he fucking drank it, ignoring your warning, and now, he’s suffering the consequences. you take the same hand that was on his head, and bring it to his shoulder to gently shake him awake. pierre, on the other hand, awakens dramatically, jackknifing upright like you’ve poured water all over him.

the man pants desperately, chest heaving with his stuttering breaths, tongue swiping at his upper lip to clear the sweat gathering there, his teal irises swallowed by enlarged pupils, and his hair is matted and curling against his forehead from the mixture of sweat and heat. his eyes are glazed over, you can tell he’s not quite aware of what’s going on—that’s probably thanks to the incredible fever he’s running—but there’s a hidden glint to them that you can’t puzzle out.

“oh, pierre,” you lean forward, hands coming to grasp at the sides of his face, steadying him, “you fucked around and found out, didn’t you? there’s no chance you’re capable of telling me the antidote to this, it seems. maybe a spell can alleviate the effects briefly enough…”. as you ramble on, mostly to yourself, you fail to see the look in pierre’s eyes change. the hidden intentions you weren’t able to make out are as clear as day now. the haze over his stare is still present, but the confusion has disappeared. only hunger remains.

you startle when pierre’s trembling hands grasp at your waist. you quirk a brow at him in question, but don’t receive an answer, a verbal one at least. you’re suddenly knocked flat on your back and pierre bodily shoves himself between your legs, hovering over you. and the intense look in his eyes is made aware to you; you’ve seen it before, but it’s never felt this ravenous. you press your eyelids closed and whimper under your breath at your revelation: the ‘true love’ potion is a fucking aphrosodiac.

pierre is so hot. he feels his body shivering dramatically as he holds himself on his hands above you. his muscles weaken from the strain of the fever, and he collapses on top of you. his head lands in the valley of your neck, and he moans at the cooling feeling of your brown skin against his face—he needs more of it, he needs you naked. reinvigorated, pierre attempts to wrangle your clothes off, but he’s unable to do much with his shaky limbs. he begins to anger when your sleep shirt fails to disappear, and tries to rip it down the center. you force his hands away, and tug the shirt up and away before tossing it aside, leaving you in just panties. his anger dissipates, and he presses his body against yours again, and a choked groan escapes him at the relief your naked torso gives him, he goes boneless.

the relief lasts for less than a minute, before he starts squirming desperately again—he needs to be closer to you. he suckles marks into your neck, moaning lewdly when he feels your hand tangle in his hair, pulling at it firmly. he fights your grasp, unsatisfied with his unfinished claim on your neck and chest, but he submits when he notices you’re guiding him to your lips.

the meeting of your lips is messy, he can’t manage to find any of his usual finesse. he pants into your mouth in between sloppy, wet kisses, if you can even call them that. his tongue fights against yours, and his hips buck forward at the feeling, which reminds him of the fact that he still has sweatpants on and you have on panties. pierre jerks away, resisting the urge to continue kissing you when you whine out for him so prettily, chest arching upwards, nipples perky and egging him to bite, the bruises on your neck blossoming with reds and purples—he shakes his head erratically, and focuses enough to tug his sweatpants off; he’s never been so happy that he’s not wearing underwear. the skin contact must have done him well, because his hands aren’t shaking anymore as they grasp at your panties. he may not have torn apart your shirt, but the cotton undergarment doesn’t stand a chance, he rips through it like water.

the sound of your shriek at his actions is muted in his ears, and he barely registers the feeling of you shoving at his shoulder in irritation. pierre can only see your pussy. a broken whimper escapes him as he stares; his eyes tunnel to your throbbing hooded clit, the way your entrances tightens and relaxes, like you’re taunting him to fill you up, and you’re soaked for him, lips shining with your wetness—he should just get a brief taste, before he fucks you. he lays between your legs, hands coming around to grip at your thighs to firmly hold you against his mouth, and he’s eating you out like he’s never had a meal before.

the potions master vaguely hears a pleasure-filled scream burst from your chest as he broadly strokes of his tongue against your vulva to collect any wetness you’ve spilled. he muffles his moan into your pussy at the taste, and shifts downward to prod his tongue inside of you to coax more of your juices out. he feels your hips try to buck him off of you, and he growls into you, tightening his grip on your thighs to allow you no escape. you leak steadily into his mouth, even as you try to run from the constant barrage of his lips, tongue, and teeth. pierre’s brow furrows with the effort he puts into eating you out—your taste is addicting. it’s a mouthwatering combination of sweet and tangy, with lingering saltiness. he has a small lapse of deja-vu at your flavor, but it’s quickly dismissed at the drag of his cock against the bed.

pierre whimpers into you at the pleasure flaring behind his eyelids, as he begins to hump against the bed. he switches from forcing his tongue inside of you and moves his attention to your clit, suckling and twirling his tongue on the button. it sounds like he’s making out with your cunt. your thighs to clamp shut around his head, your hand scrambles to tug at his hair and hold him exactly where you want him, and you start rubbing your pussy against him. fuck, how did he not realize how hard he is. pierre sobs into your pussy overwhelmed, he wants to keep eating you out, and the friction of his cock against the bed feels so good. he knows being inside of you would be better.

the frenchman breaks free from the grasp of your legs, and scrambles back upwards, not giving you time to register the change in position before he breaches your entrance. when the head of his cock pops inside of you, he throws his head back and moans erotically at the feeling of your cunt fluttering around him. he starts to burn hotter. pierre struggles to hold-off from thrusting into you in one smooth motion—he’s usually cautious when he fucks into you for the first time because he’s well aware of his size and how you struggle to take it all in one sitting. he whimpers hotly, and picks his head up to look at you—and all sense of waiting for you to adjust leaves him head. a line of drool has slid down your cheek, your eyes have rolled back in pleasure, and the sounds of your squeals of pleasure from just the tip of his cock break his restraint.

the man drives his cock deep inside of you in one smooth thrust, and he shudders on top of you, humming in satisfaction at the pulsing grasp of your cunt. pierre feels how he forced the air out of your lungs, your corresponding scream still rattling in his eardrums, but he can’t help how he grinds his cock into you, one, two, three times. he groans out, and starts making proper thrusts into you—he needs to fuck you properly. one of your hands sneaks between your joined bodies and presses at his navel in a weak attempt to halt his movements. pierre knocks it out of the way, before he brings both of his hands to tighten on your waist and starts fucking you with a purpose. it’s selfish and dirty; in a way pierre usually isn’t. he uses himself as a tool to make you cum first all of the time, but you can tell tonight, this is all about him—your orgasm is just a byproduct. he gathers you up in his arms, making sure there’s no gap of air in between you, and starts pumping his hips into you deeply, not pulling out of you any more than a few centimeters.

it’s feels so pleasurable that it could be torture. he’s applying pressure against that spongy spot on your walls so consistently, that you’re legs have already started shaking. he’s fucking you up the bed with the force of his thrust, and he’s conscious enough to place a hand on the headboard to make sure he doesn’t shove you up to hit your head. pierre’s making these sweet, whiny, whimpers, that he attempts to muffle into your neck as he feels himself start pulsating inside of you, dancing along the edge. he feels your nails claw into his back, and it’s like his senses are suddenly returned to full strength from where they were clogged with fuzz. he can hear you try and moan out for him, but his thrusts are so powerful that you keep choking on your words.

he catches the ending of your warning, “pierre-oh—m’ gonna cum! oh, fuck!”

the clenching of your orgasm pushes him into his own, and it’s the most intense crash of pleasure he’s ever felt. his vision whites out and it feels painful in a way only too much pleasure can give. his whole body shakes through each wave of pleasure, and he feels lightheaded at the feeling. pierre can’t even do anything more than jerk his hips forward to pump through the aftershocks, he falls limp on top of you, pinning you under him. his skin feels raw and blown open, and there’s a ringing noise in his ears. he whimpers against your neck, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes, and then he’s pretty sure he faints for a few minutes.

when he comes back to the present, you’re humming underneath him, hands rubbing up and down his back in a soothing motion. pierre brokenly moans against your throat, oversensitive. you shush him, and scratch at the nape of his neck, just the way he likes but won’t admit to. his breaths slowly even out against your skin, and in a croaky voice he starts talking, “the potion—it smelled like the shea butter of your lotion, the vanilla and coffee of your perfume, and the peppermint of your aura.”

you pause in your motions, and softly ask, “really?”

pierre shifts, hissing at the jostling of his cock still inside of you, and settles again, raising his head up to make lazy eye contact with you, “yeah,” he whispers quietly, before carefully pulling out of you and falling onto his stomach next to you.

you nuzzle up to his side and press kisses against his shoulder, before you offhandedly mention that his fever’s gone down. pierre’s fighting the call of sleep, and mumbles something into the pillow that you can’t make out, and he turns his head to the side so you can hear him, “i dunno how, mon amour, but it tasted like you too.”

you stare at him with wide eyes, neither of you are aware of an aphrodisiac of this caliber. pierre falls asleep, and you close your eyes in a quick prayer—this potion better have run its course, you won’t survive another round of that.

taglist: @lorarri @soph1644 @jaydensluv @fanboyluvr @nissaimmortal @redgonerogue @hollie911 @saintwrld@buendiabebeta@butterfly-lover@lana-d3l-rey@dylan1721 @spicybagel14 @dhhdhsiavdhaj@miahgonzalez16@jjaekin @dkbj14 @f1lover55 @f1lov3r @mindless-rock@biancathecool@barnestatic@sweetpiccolo-blog@my-ylenia @zaynzierulez@reblog-princess-blog @lovingaphroditesworld @katekipshidze @darleneslane @inloveallthetime

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artists-who-rarely-draws · 2 months ago

Text

Calling Gravity falls artists!

Firstly, I love you all your art is so scrumptious mwah mwah mwah mwah!!.

Okay now to the casting call?? Listing?? Idk the term BUT! I am in the process of scripting out and designing a 80s Stan pines Dating SIM bwah bwah!

I'm planning to do the sprite work as I'm pretty good at replicating the gravity falls style.

But! For CGS, the Game Cover(?) (and / or backgrounds, maybe still deciding), I'm hoping to find an art style with a bit more - Pizzaz!!!!

**I am more than willing to pay! Your art is beautiful, and you deserve to be compensated!!!!**

Now some details about what it would look like:

- I will come to you for a few different cgs for both a Ford and Stan route in a stretched out period of time (meaning not all of once, not only because I don't want to overwhelm, but so that I can fully decide on a scene make sure it's fully what I want before coming to you for the CG for it, I don't want to think I know what I want then fully change my mind and then ya know this CG your either working on or finished now doesn't apply)

-We can talk through DM's , email (Tho my email rarely gives me notifications, so if I respond late, I'm sorry), Discord. Wherever makes you the most comfortable, artwork probably should be shared through either Drive or Email, though since Dependant on Size, most sites will kind of crunch them.

-You will receive FULL credit!!! This one feels like a given, but the internet is wild, and I've seen this misconception happen. Just because I'm paying for your art doesn't mean you don't also get credit. Credit your commissioners' kids.

-You get to set the price on your own art! Far be it from me to tell *you* what your time and effort is worth.

-communication is very important, I do work full time, but if I'm free and you need to talk to me, I'm more than open! If I don't get back to you within a day or so, feel free to give me a friendly little reminder that the notification has been lost.

-I will provide reference sheets that don't follow the canon (like other outfits or hair styles or whatever)

- as part of talking out each piece, I'd like a quote on price and a rough?? Idea?? On when it may be completed (Note: that is not like a strict deadline or anything. I understand things happen! Like i said, just pop me a message saying it can't be finished by 'blank', maybe 'blank' or just that you don't know! I won't bite! I'm an artist! I get it!

And I think that's about all of Note at the moment? If you have any more questions feel free to ask them!

If you'd be willing to be my CG artist please send me a DM with some gravity falls art examples, your rough prices (which again I understand will change from piece to piece buy just like a idea of how your prices for scenes normally are) and your prefrence for how we would communicate about the game ^^.

Thank you very much for reading! And again I love your art so much! Mwah mwah!

(Note, game might get it's own blog once I fully decide on a title, right now im thinking 'The Diners Call' but idk for sure)

#gravity falls #gravity falls art #gravity falls fanart #gravity falls fandom #ford pines #grunkle ford #gravity falls ford #ford pines fanart #stanford pines #stanley pines #stan pines #stan pines fanart

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 2 years ago

Note

(Hey! I hope this ask isn't too nsfwish, if it is, feel free not to answer!)

Anyway, I wanted to request something for some Twisted Wonderland characters (I just got into the game a while ago and I'm almost finished with the main story for Scarabia! It's very addicting, lol)! Oh, and I don't know if you have a character limit, but I'll just request Ace, Trey, Cater, Floyd, Scarabia, and Epel! You can remove some characters if you want if it's too much.

Anyway, the request I wanted to make was, how do you think some of the Twisted Characters would react to, in the middle of class (or just during anytime of the school day), the Prefect/Reader sends them like, a suggestive photo of themselves while there out (which may have not seemed like that on the Perfect/Reader end, but might have been seemed different by the characters). How do you think the characters would react? And how would you think they would feel if another student tried peeping at the photo while they were looking at it?

If you decide to do this request, Thank you and I hope you have a nice day! :)

Thank you, I hope you do too

🖤🖤🖤

Suggestive Selfies | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

As you mentioned most of the material they find to be particularly arousing doesn’t necessarily have anything sexual in nature but a yandere knows no bounds. Oh and for the poor soul that dared to lay their eyes on the photo meant specifically for them will be lucky to keep those:

Ace Trappola

As one of your closest confidants Ace is one of the first to have access to you through text

As such its a given you are constantly going back and forth

About homework, hanging out, what you’re eating, whoyou’rewith

So its a given that you send him pictures

It isn’t hard for him to ask either

as long as he words it right

‘Bet. I doubt you actually just woke up’

‘Lol sucks to suck! Now what’d you bet’

He lets a mischevious smile spread across his face as he gets what he wanted

A picture of your minimalist pajama set and messy bedhead

All for his viewing pleasure

It was easiest to imagine waking up beside you this way

Especially after a heated night before

He does take notice to the peaking his roommate is doing

Quick to shove his phone in his pocket

Next day is all it takes for the trail of Riddle’s tart leading to the unsuspecting student

If that isn’t enough he’ll make a big accident potions class

That has the peeping tom feeling like a million fire ants are biting at his skin

“Don’t be looking at others toys, especially when I’m sitting right there. At that point you’re just asking me to defend!”

Trey Clover

He knows you come running for his food

Free and easy its his way to get close to you without your little friends lackeys getting in the way

But he wasn’t expecting you to get so eager to replicate him

But he doesn’t hate the way you start sending him pictures of the things your making

Mostly because you unknowingly end up showing off whatever your wearing in your lonesome

Maybe a thigh in skimpy shorts

Or the voice messages of you struggling with particularly thick batter

That always has him excusing himself

But most recently your picture of a the mini cake you made

Completely unaware of the ample view of your chest that came with it

It leaves nothing to the imagination andhelovesit

But before he can slyly dismiss himself

He sees the eyes of someone in the reflection of his phone

He doesn’t react pretending to scroll before watching them avert

…so they really were watching…scum

He wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt but now he’s got an unfortunate confirmation

“It’s a shame…that the next time you eat something it’ll be your last. Should know when to mind your business.”

Cater Diamond

He’s one for pictures

If his story being updated every 30 minutes wasn’t enough

His text messages with you would prove him guilty

With nearly every word there's a picture from him

It wouldn’t be long before you followed suit

Mirroring the images he was so keen on sending you

Eventually one slips through an accidental photo of your body suggestively peaking out

He saves it in no time at all

Already planning to post about how deep he’s in it

But instead he might post about him being in a different location

Then where he dumped the peeper’s body+

“Been here all day! Thinking only about gettinginto bae!”

Floyd Leech

It’s an accident

Most of the time you’re just texting Floyd because you think its funny when he types incorrectly somehow virtually whines to you about not being with you

But you accidentally send a picture of yourself from an unreasonablelysexy angle

“I wanna bite! Where you at!”

Unlike the others he’s not brushing it off or moving on

He’s abruptly leaving class to go find you to dealwithhisfrantichunger

No body’s looking at what made him do that

Not unless they want to be strangled behind the school

“Oi oi did you like what you see…good for you now when you black out you’ll have pretty dreams of my shrimpy!”

Jamil Viper

He’s not usually one for texting

But Kalim is

its more than likely when he has to go somewhere he’s receiving blurry photos of Kalim dragging you around

So he uses this opportunity to ask you for an actually good picture or video evidence

Granted he might’ve played a hand in that

He’s not complaining

Especially when your sending a video of you cheering him on

A call out to a video Kalim had sent earlier

But the sound of your labored breathing, the close-up of your sweaty body

It leaves him showing through his basketball shorts

And when the nosey player peaks over his shoulder

He’s immediately hypnotizing him to injure himself in front of everybody

He thinks its a worthy punishment for trying to take one of the few things he owns

“Thanks for the cheers (Y/n), no doubt I’ll win the next game.”

Kalim Al Asim

He loves texting you

Its like he’s speaking to you while being far away (duh)

It’s the best except…

He never gets to see your face

But you’re so agreeable all he has to do is ask

And sometimes if he keeps talking to you while you’re busy you’ll make mistakes

Mistakes like sending pictures of you posing in a mirror instead of the one you just took

“Delete this…maybe…no!”

He won’t allow anyone to look and if they do Kalim just stares

It doesn’t exactly click that they might have ill intentions

But theres still that nasty feeling in his chest

“Aren’t they pretty…they’re going to be mine one day. Understand!”

Epel Felmier

He typically texts you when he’s deep in etiquette lessons

It only motivates him to deviate even more

Won’t you think he’s manlier if you see how sneaky he is to take a picture now

Now you better send back its not fair that way

A selfie of something simple

Something simple that doesn’t need to incite anything

Say that to the heat overtaking his body

If anyone should look over whether out of curiosity or their own interest

He’s throwin’ hands

“This. Picture. Is. For. My. Eyes. Only!”

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skinandscales-if · 7 months ago

Text

S&S Anniversary

Today officially marks the 1 year anniversary of the demo release Skin & Scales! The first of many, I hope! I’m so very lucky and fortunate to have such cool people interested in my work, and I’m so delighted to see where the future takes us.

The story is still a baby, with much more to go, but I feel so honored to have built up exactly what the story sets out to create: community. You all have been an incredible part of this journey, and I could not be more grateful, especially to those who send me messages and take the time to interact, big or small. I want to do you justice, and I want to create the best product from everyone’s patience and love over this past year and onwards. This world and the characters have always been a welcome place to return to, and that’s thanks to you all. Thank you so much and here’s to more years to come. ❤️

To celebrate, here’s a little lore tease :)

BELOW IS THE WRITTEN TRANSCRIPT OF PRIVATE POLICE QUESTIONING. DO NOT REPLICATE.

REPORT BY OFFICER LEWIS BRANDY

SEND TO INSTITUTE IMMEDIATELY

DATE: 02/29/1990

QUESTIONS START 09:32

OFFICER BRANDY: Can you state your name for the record?

DARLING: Yes, of course. My name is Samantha Darling.

B: Great. Thank you for your cooperation, Mrs. Darling. I'd like to start by asking you a few questions regarding last night, the twenty-eighth of February.

DARLING: Ash Wednesday, yes.

B: That's actually what I'd like to start with. You’re a member of St. Cadoc’s Church in the western district, correct?

DARLING laughs.

DARLING: Yes, though I suppose that doesn’t matter too much anymore. I hadn’t visited in a while after the… new management.

B: Right. You were present at the incident, correct?

DARLING: That is correct.

B: Mind stating where you were in relation to the incident?

DARLING: I was checking in on a neighbor of mine down the street across from the church. I live in a small apartment a few blocks down, meaning I crossed by right as things got intense.

B: You saw the smoke?

DARLING: Easily. It hadn’t reached my house yet, but the smoke was already taller than all of the nearby buildings. It was… it was pretty horrible.

B: Understandable. I’d like for you to detail all that you saw when you arrived on the scene, Mrs. Darling. If you’re able.

DARLING: Of course. When I could see the ashes I pivoted from my street to get a better look, and by the time I could see other people, it was clear that the church was burning into nothing. It was… really hot, and pretty suffocating up close like that. But the fire didn’t look normal it was…

DARLING stops talking and folds her hands into her lap.

B: Blue.

DARLING: Blue. And hot white, but it wasn’t as significant to me at the time. It wasn’t like any other fires I had witnessed.

B: And what did you see around you?

DARLING: Around me? A handful of other folks, mostly shifters, all really scared and confused. I thought maybe one of them would know, but they were all either speechless or just as perplexed as me. It… it was pretty horrific to see, even if we didn’t hear screaming or anything.

B: Was anyone fleeing from the scene? Or anyone around looking suspicious?

DARLING: I… um… no? Not really? I wasn’t paying that much attention, but I saw shadows flickering in the fire, along with some noises from within. Not anyone who sounded hurt though.

B: Yes. And no one around you who saw anything either?

DARLING pauses.

DARLING: I didn’t ask…? It didn’t seem like it. We were all a bit preoccupied. I think someone ran to get a firefighter.

B pauses and shuffles his papers.

B: Right. You mentioned hearing noises inside the church, correct? Could you make any of it out?

DARLING: No. I thought it was just the fire at first, but then it sounded like… well it might sound odd, but it sounded like a conversation. Probably something closer to an argument. I might have heard a roar.

B doesn’t say anything right away. DARLING frowns then leans in a bit.

DARLING: I know Firespitters can withstand extreme heat longer than most but do you think there really could have been someone in *that*? I heard the priest perished in the fire, he may have been one of the voices inside, but I’d never been to a sermon of his. He was one of those, though.

B: Mrs. Darling, please remember I’m asking the questions here. This is a very intense case, and we are taking all possible precautions to make sure this can’t happen again. You understand that, right?

DARLING is quiet for a moment.

DARLING: Right. Yes. Sorry.

B: It’s alright. You’ve given us a lot of important information today, ma’am. Before we wrap up though, are you sure nothing else caught your eye?

DARLING goes quiet again.

DARLING: Well… I did see a larger man leaving right as I arrived. He didn’t look suspicious, he was helping a woman around his size leave the scene, but they traveled down a back alley before I could get a good look. I don’t think they were responsible though, I was worried they were hurt it looked like the woman-

B: Thank you for your time, Mrs. Darling.

DARLING straightens up.

DARLING: Ah- sorry?

B: You’ve given us a lot of valuable information today, ma’am, and the city thanks you for your service. It cannot be understated. Outside, we’ll just gather a quick survey of information in case we need to contact you again, but you are otherwise free to go.

DARLING: Oh- okay… alright, thank you for your time, Officer.

DARLING stands.

B: Be careful out there Mrs. Darling. Plenty of people who’d love to take advantage of the good folks in this city. Give us a call if you need it.

DARLING leaves.

QUESTIONS END 09:40

OFFICER NOTES: Follow up with Director about sent special forces. Include report on spotted witnesses. Question at further radius. Don’t press peculiarities.

#snippet #my art #S&S anniversary #twine #interactive fiction #I’m gonna try and not be a mess but seriously ty guys #luckiest guy alive fr ❤️#and there’s city lore or whatever #also I’m aware of the irony of posting this before chapter 2 #it’s closer to release than ever though!#likely next month. I will try and post something more official lol

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