#deaf lingo

[thicc-ray-of-sunshine]

Heyyyyyyyy so I'm posting like 3/4 of this fic here for y'all. It's incredibly self indulgent and I'm not sorry at all 🩷🩷🩷

WARNING THIS IS SMUT‼️ MINORS DNI‼️

Stan and his new neighbor have a little too much chemistry

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It had been around a month or so since you met Stanley and it had been nothing short of fantastic. He was an allegedly somewhat reformed con-man turned sailor. Although it definitely shone through, he was extremely persuasive, not to mention charming. Gosh you had it bad, you tried really hard to remind yourself that he was more than twice your age and you shouldn't be lusting after some poor old man who was just being nice to you but it just fell on deaf ears. It seemed that all rational thought flew right out of your empty head the second his handsome squared jaw came into view or he wore one of his undershirts out and you could see his chest hair peeking out from the neckline. If he did anything really, he was just overall distracting without needing to actually do anything to lead you astray.

Little did you know Stan was having similar woes. He felt awful, he felt like he was taking advantage of you and your friendship. Every time you bent over he was looking at your ass or your cleavage, every time you wore shorts as a reprieve from the summer heat his eyes were glued to your legs. No matter how much he tried he just couldn't stop thinking these hideously inappropriate thoughts about you.

The worst part about it was that he actually liked you, he felt like an idiot. Some foolish old man looking to reclaim his youth or something lusting after some hot young thing. In truth you did make him feel young, almost as much as you made him feel old. Keeping lively conversation with you was a breeze, your personality and snark always kept him on his toes and made him feel like the smooth young man he once was some 30 odd years ago. Then there would be those moments where you'd have to explain a reference or some type of modern lingo or technology that would bring him into the present where he was pushing 70 and you weren't even pushing 30. It sucked.

Despite your more morally deplorable thoughts about Stanley you did spend a good deal of time with him, which is what you were doing at present. You had volunteered to help with the kids earlier on in the day since both Stan and Ford had things to attend to concerning the Stan O War 2 that required them to go out of town for a portion of the day. It was Sunday and your little shop was closed for the day so you had no issue with spending some quality time with Mabel and Dipper, who were absolutely wonderful children.

Now it was later into evening and both Stan and Ford had returned a few hours ago and you had stuck around to help with dinner. You were currently sitting on the porch with Stan while nursing a beer. It was nice, homey even. Which was odd to think about since at heart you weren't a small town kind of girl, yet here you were in this absolutely miniscule town in the middle of nowhere Oregon feeling like you belonged. Truthfully it was the people that made you feel that way, here you were wanted, needed even. Sitting here next to Stan made it all so clear, you just wish he'd be the type to need you too.

Surprisingly Stan felt relaxed, he was originally nervous sitting out here with you alone. Being alone with you had been a really big point of anxiety for him over the past month since he wouldn't have anything else to switch his attention to once his mind started to wander to places it had no right to. He had been dwelling over your relationship with him, it was all fun and laughs but there were some moments where your like for him really shone through. Now, here on the porch of his own home he sat in the comfort of your company and everything was good.

Turns out everything was NOT good. He was having a heart attack he swears, an aneurysm maybe because this couldn't be happening. You had both decided to have a few more drinks while sitting together on the old sofa sitting out on the porch which was all fine and dandy. But what he hadn't quite anticipated was for both of you to get a little overzealous while tipsy and deciding to have a little more fun and break out the hard liquor. An even more unanticipated turn was when at some point you decided that you weren't close enough to him and quite literally plastered yourself to his side which is what brought on the definitely NOT ok and extremely unwarranted hard-on.

He feels like a teenager right now, his body reacting to you in a way that's somewhat unprecedented given your current position but all he can think about is the way your curves are pressing against his side and how you are borderline groping his bicep. The flirty banter you had started trading off wasn't helping the situation in the slightest either, adding more fuel to the fire and keeping his shame at an all time high since it was a relatively normal interaction for the two of you.

You were a bit tipsy at this point, having a little bit more liquor than you should've while having a friendly drink with your neighbor. The neighbor that you had situated yourself rather comfortably against his side, only mildly aware of just how much you had encroached on his personal space, not that you could find it in yourself to care. He was just so warm and his arms were sooo big, which is what you currently found yourself enamoured with. At this point you were basically hanging off the poor man, hip to hip, hands casually sliding across his muscular shoulder and bicep.

“So Stan have you always been this stacked or is this what being on a boat for a year does to a guy?”

You could feel heat rise to your cheeks, unsure if it was at your boldness or the effects of the alcohol in your system. You could feel Stan tense for a moment under your fingers before his head turned to you and flashing you a grin before taking another swig of his drink. You let out a breathy little giggle when you felt him purposely flex his arms under you, feeling entirely lightheaded which only increased when he let out a small grunt, jaw clicking while he regarded you with an intense yet unreadable expression.

The atmosphere seemed to change drastically, the tension was palpable and left you feeling extremely tense. You felt like you were moving in slow motion as you leaned over to put down your drink on the small side table next to you. Even more slowly you turned your body fully to face Stan, gently placing your hand back on his arm which was met by the hand of his other arm gently holding yours in its place.

Your nerves were totally shot, your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest as you tentatively laid your head on his shoulder while your other hand went to play with the good chain around his neck. You felt more than heard the shaky exhale of breath Stan let out.

“Stan. I really like you. I mean it and I know things are….. complicated but it doesn't matter, not to me. I just-”

Your stuttered rambling was brought to an abrupt halt as Stan’s hand moved from its place in your own up to your jaw, pulling your gaze to meet his own. For a single, terrifying moment he didn't say anything, just stared into the depths of your eyes, seemingly searching for something before meeting your lips with his own. It was slow and tentative and you didn't let yourself hesitate for a second, immediately responding in kind, kissing back with zeal. A soft groan left Stan's throat at your enthusiasm that sent tingles down your spine, settling in the cradle of your hips and causing you to sigh dreamily into the kiss. You continued to lean further into him, forcing you both into a more reclined position. Clearly encouraged by your actions, he moved with more confidence and surety than before; large hands moving slowly down your sides to settle in your waist.

So far the kissing had been fairly innocent which did not stop the not-so-innocent desires that had invited themselves to the forefront of your mind. Cheekily you nipped his bottom lip with your canines playfully. His reaction was instantaneous, suddenly your positions were flipped and you were entirely underneath him on the couch.

Rather than giving you time to recover from the sudden vertigo and absolute shock at his very attractive display of strength he took advantage of your gasp of surprise and slid his tongue into your mouth. It was hot, you were hot and hell he was scalding as his tongue found yours and coiled around the smooth muscle.

Your body was on fire and you were embarrassingly panting desperately when he withdrew, heart hammering in your chest as his lips found your throat, biting a kiss into your jugular and sealing your voice away.

“Didn't know you felt that way Toots. Lucky me.”

His breath was hot on your neck, you could feel him grin into your skin before dashing his tongue across your collarbone. You couldn't think straight, hell you couldn't think at all, not with his body weight on top of you and his mouth on the curve of your neck. You wanted to say something, anything about how he made you feel, how he made you feel wanted, desperate. Your hands snaked their way into his hair, trying to ground yourself while you found enough of your voice to reply.

“I've felt that way since- ah - you came into the garage the other month.”

He stopped then, his teeth grazing the skin just above the neckline of your tank top, suddenly pulling away from you to grin rakishly down at you.

“Since you met me huh? So it wasn't just my imagination all those times I thought you were makin goo-goo eyes at me. Not very nice of ya to have those kinds of thoughts about an old man.”

You matched his grin while groping at his arms again and wrapping a leg around his waist, pulling him in closer to nip at his ear.

“And just what are you gonna do about it Stanley?”

A broken sound erupted from within his chest that reverberated through your own before he essentially pinned you to the couch and absolutely ravished your mouth. It was sloppy, all tongue and teeth but it was oh so delicious. There was a clumsy sort of insistence that boiled over into desperation as his glasses dug into your cheek. At this point you noticed that wasn't the only hard object that was meeting soft flesh as you suddenly became very aware of a certain part of his anatomy digging into your thigh

The pure unadulterated lust you felt for the man struck you right in the temples, making you dizzy with want. Despite all this you were aware of where you were and your proximity to several unsuspecting parties that definitely did not need to be made aware of the two people who were about two seconds from fucking on the porch.

Reluctantly and with an immense amount of self control you put your hands on Stan’s chest and pushed him a tad off of you. Immediately you saw the panic in his face, insecurity and shame taking over as he sat up on his haunches.

“God, geez kid I'm so sorry I-”

You wasted no time stopping his distress by following him up and placing your index finger over his lips to silence him, followed by a reassuring peck on the cheek that melted away all the worry on his face like one of those pineapple popsicles he liked on a summer afternoon.

“Stan. As much as I'd love to continue, I think this isn't the most appropriate setting.”

You gestured to the house and it's proximity. He let out a small, somewhat awkward chuckle and smoothed his hands up your waist again, seemingly seeking comfort in you before retreating and standing up, offering his hand to you. After helping you off of the couch he moved to steer you into the house until you stopped him short, having a much better idea. You didn't give him enough time to fall into anxiety and grabbed his hand, leading him towards your own home instead.

You both stumbled and giggled all the way to your property, stealing chaste kisses and groping each other cheekily, much like a pair of witless teenagers would and it was perfect.By the time you made it inside Stan's patience had run out. He displayed this openly by fully pinning you against the now closed front door, his mouth finding yours in the fray once more, devouring.

You couldn't get enough of him, you were grasping and pawing at his chest and shoulders while your mouths molded together feverishly. Stan was no better, his hands had smoothed down past your waist before grabbing two handfuls of ass, hoisting your lower half upwards to circle around his hips.

This was by far the closest you had both gotten so far, he had you well and truly pinned. You were chest to chest with the weight of his prominent stomach pressed deliciously against your abdomen. Returning the favor, your right hand dropped to Stan's ass and squeezed, a loud groan coming from him as you adjusted your grip to pull him further against you before grinding hard into his front. This earned you a loud, delightfully scandalous ‘fuck’ into the side of your neck. Stan took a moment to breath before reciprocating and grinding the hard line of his cock over your clothed center. This action pulled a rather graphic and undignified noise from your throat that had you moving to slap your hand over your mouth out of pure shock and embarrassment. Your endeavor was stopped short however by Stanley who had caught and shoved your hand back against the door.

“None of that Sugar. I wanna hear everything comin out of that pretty little mouth. No hidin.”

His voice was at such a low timbre you felt like it shook you as you nodded in response to his request. No more than two seconds later you had resumed your ministrations, tightening the circle of your hips and grinding against him at a staggeringly slow pace. Really it was too slow for you but this way you got to see just how terribly you affected him. And boy was it ever, his face was flushed, glasses close to falling off the bridge of his nose and he was panting so heavily his body moved with the effort.

Smiling mischievously at him you pulled him back to you into an absolutely scalding kiss, wrapping your tongue around his own and sucking. Abruptly you stopped the kiss, licking up to his ear before angling your hips to get better friction on your clit and letting out an entirely too loud pornographic moan directly into Stan's ear.

“That's it yer in for it now Toots!”

You positively giggled as he hurriedly put you down, leaning back against the door to find the stability your wobbly legs couldn't give you. Stan gave you a jesting sneer as he straightened to his full height, back cracking, before throwing you over his shoulder rather unceremoniously. Both the sudden lightheadedness and the absurdity of the turn of events and tone threw you into a fit of giggles. Although this was cut extremely short by Stan’s right hand clapping hard over your ass.

“None of that now Sweetcheeks.”

You positively grin, turning your head to attempt to meet his eyes.

“I thought you said you wanted to hear everything that came out of this pretty mouth?”

That earned you another smack on the ass along with a nonsensical mumble of feigned displeasure at your comment as he began walking towards the back of your house.

After about a minute of giving upside down directions to your bedroom and feeling up Stan’s back you were promptly deposited onto your bed with a soft bounce. You took a moment to admire Stan from your place on the bed as you let him help take off your shoes. The corner of his mouth was curled up into a small smirk while his eyes focused on his task. You noticed that he had pushed his glasses back up to their proper place even though it did absolutely nothing to hide how wrecked he actually looked. His tank top was all wrinkled from your insistent pawing, face and neck covered in small smudges of lip gloss that shimmered in the soft moonlight that illuminated your room and his hair was mussed enough to be sticking out in all directions.

You decided it was cute like that; it gave him a sort of boyish charm. You gave him a soft smile when he caught you admiring him, blushing a bit before giving your ankle a lingering kiss. Now that both your shoes had been handled Stan continued onward, pressing your legs apart so he could slot himself between them on his knees. His rough calloused palms smoothed up your legs, stopping at your knees so he could use them to pull you closer to him. His hands kept moving further up your legs as your own slithered back into his grey hair, using the hair at the base of his neck to pull him into a steamy kiss.

You both slipped back into a tangle of kissing, getting entirely lost grinding slowly against each other until Stan’s wandering hand found it’s way to the front of your shorts where he palmed your clothed sex. Your lips immediately left his with a lewd pop to let out a pitiful whine from the back of your throat.

“Stan- please.”

You weren’t quite sure what you were begging for, everything was too hot, your brain was scrambled; too much of a sex addled mess to have any coherent thought past wanting to fuck the man above you. All you knew was that you were too hot and needed both of you to get as naked as possible as soon as possible.

Following this line of thought you put your hands on Stan’s chest, pushing him back just enough to rip your tank top over your head and throw the piece of fabric across the room with no amount of grace. Stan’s eyes drank in the sight of you topless, the fabric of your bra hardly containing the full breasts beneath. Eyes that nearly bulged out of his skull at the further sight of you reaching behind you to unclasp your bra; a task he was all too eager to assist with. After lightly slapping your hands out of the way his arms curled around you almost reverently and unclasping the undergarment. He rested his head on your shoulder, leaving a trail of kisses over your right shoulder as he slid the straps off your shoulders and dropping the bra off the side of the bed and to the wayside.

He took a moment to fully appreciate you then; completely bare from the waist up, eyes contouring the fullness of your breasts, watching your nipples harden further after being exposed to the cool night air. Not being able to help himself he leaned back over you and swirled his tongue around a pert nipple, bringing his left hand to brace against the bed and his right to fondle your left breast. His hands and mouth lavished your full chest to his heart’s content, pinching and pulling and biting his pleasure. The reactions he got out of you were nothing short of heavenly, all soft sighs and moans that went straight to his dick which was now rutting against the bed in this position. His attentions only faltered when you started tugging on the arm of his tank top, demanding that he take it off to match your nudity.

“Off. Now. I can’t be the only one with no shirt, it's not fair.”

You whined into his hair, eyes following the muscles of his shoulders as he sat up to haul the offending garment up and over his head. He gave you a bashful smile then, feeling a tad self conscious at first despite your clear desire for him. You however had no such follies and went straight to feeling him up wherever you could reach from your position beneath him. Your much smaller hands glided over his soft stomach reverently, working their way up to his pectorals and running your fingers through the swath of chest hair that covered them before grasping a bicep to bring him back into you for yet another searing kiss.

“See something you like I take it?”

You nipped at his lips in response, licking your teeth and looking up at him rakishly.

“Yeah, you Stan. All of you."

You further emphasized your statement by shuffling down and taking a nipple between your teeth, further returning the favor for his previous attention to your own breasts no more than a minute ago. This sprung him into immediate action, in one swift motion he took both your pants and your underwear off with the same kind of showmanship of a magician taking off a tablecloth from beneath cutlery.

You gasped in shock which turned into a full on moan as Stan threw both of your legs over his shoulders and descended.

“Sweet Moses you’re soaked down here Sweetheart.”

Your face burned bright red at his words, punctuated by the feeling of his hot breath on your inner thighs. He looked to your face for a moment, watching you lecherously as he slowly and purposefully spread your slick with two fingers, producing an extremely lewd squelch before sending a wink your way.

“Hold on tight Sugar.”

That was all the warning you received before he dove into your cunt like a man starved. It was delectable, the way he swirled his tongue around your clit was calculated, his spread fore and middle finger holding you open for the onslaught, stubble scraping against your inner thighs deliciously. The sounds alone were obscene and had you wanting to close your eyes to attempt to escape them but you simply couldn’t tear your eyes away from the absolute vision between your legs.

Stan’s glasses were as far up the bridge of his nose as they could go and completely fogged up. The parts of his mouth and chin you could see when he occasionally resurfaced was coated in your arousal and his hair was a wreck under your fingers. And when his eyes would meet yours in your apparent gawking? God you could just cum from that alone, but you wanted it to last.

However once his mouth had suctioned over your clit and carefully slid in his forefinger to the knuckle you couldn’t keep your eyes open anymore, throwing your head back into the pillows and letting out a long salacious moan. One that immediately increased in volume as he added a second finger into the mix and crooked his fingers.

You were so close, hanging by a thread and the hand in his hair as he ate you out with gusto. You accidentally yanked his hair when he started a scissoring motion which tore a ragged groan from him as he adjusted his grip on your legs and hauled you further into him. The slight adjustment in position allowed his tongue to go deeper, ripping another moan from your lungs.

The fever broke and the wire snapped as now three of Stan’s fingers curved upwards, sliding over the gummy nodes of your sex. You felt your whole body convulse; thighs tight around his head and heels digging into his back as you howled out your pleasure, screaming his name wantonly into the dark of your bedroom. He diligently worked you through your orgasm, finally slowing to a stop when your thighs fell limply around his head.

Gently he slid your legs off his shoulders and moved back up the bed to join you, giving you a moment to recover before meeting you in a passionate kiss that you could taste yourself on. It seemed you had missed something in the haze of your orgasm because when he ground against you there were no layers separating you from the thick line of his cock. The movement brought forth a moan from both of your lips, breathed into one another as Stan took a hold of your hip. He moaned out your name softly as he felt your hand slide down to take his cock in hand. You snuck a look down between your bodies to get a better look at what you were up against.

Damn. You were in for it good, about 7 inches you’d wager and thick enough that you struggled a little to make a full fist around it. It was pulsing in your hand, tip pretty and pink with a copious amount of precum leaking from it. Taking pity on him and feeding into your renewed arousal you dashed your thumb over the slit, gathering what was there and using it to slowly slide your hand down to the base. Stan moaned openly, loudly and unabashedly when you gave him another tight pump. Before you could continue he stopped your hand and kissed you hard, stopping any complaints and pinning your hand back into the sheets above your head. You watched with rapt attention as braced himself with one strong arm and guided himself to your entrance.

Much to your dismay Stan did not push forward and into where you wanted him most but instead teasingly slid the entirety of his length through your folds, sawing his hips back and forth at a torturously slow pace. It was truly torture to be so close yet so far away from what you desperately wanted. You whined pathetically and attempted to mount him and he just let out a low mean chuckle into your neck, biting at the skin bared to him.

“Staaaaan!”

“Whaddya want?”

He asked rather dismissively, continuing his traitorous teasing. You let out a pouty huff and pinched his shoulder which resulted in him halting his ministrations, completely taking away the small amount of friction you were actually receiving and any reprieve from you now throbbing clit.

“Ya need something there Sweetcheeks? Ya gunna tell me what that is?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, frustrated at the teasing but also incredibly turned on.

“Please Stanley.”

You pouted at him even further when he made no move to continue.

“If ya really want something yer gonna have to ask me fer it.”

He was still trailing teasing kisses across your throat, humming his pleasure when you grabbed him by the back of his neck to kiss him hotly. You ran kisses up the line of his squared jaw, biting and sucking at his ear before dragging him backwards to look you in the eyes. Batting your eyelashes dramatically, you put on your most sultry simper and dragged your bottom lip between your teeth, watching his eyes follow the movement.

“Please fuck me Mr.Pines.”

And that was all it took. In that moment he drew his lip between his teeth, arched his hips, finally sliding into you. You both simultaneously let out a loud relieved moan as he slowly sank into you. Again the slow saw of his hips returned as he worked himself inside, inch by inch until he was finally fully seated within you, panting hard.

You both took a moment to regain your composure and to let your body adjust to the intrusion, just holding one another in equally shaky arms. It was you who moved first to adjust your leg around his waist to get a little more comfortable in your position, causing him to involuntarily roll his hips and going that much deeper.

“Christ.”

Stan rested his forehead on your shoulder for a moment, gathering himself and then drawing back almost to the tip and then slowly sliding home again. You let out a shuddering gasp as he moaned against the skin of your neck before doing it again and again and again, gold chain swaying tantalizingly above you after each powerful thrust.

“Yer so gorgeous Honey. Feel so good like this.”

The slow build in pace was as maddening as the feeling of his cock sliding against the overly sensitive walls of your cunt as he swore his praise lowly into your collar.

Stan kept at it hard and slow for the first few minutes. Punching ragged, sensual thrusts into you and taking his sweet time savoring the feeling of your body wrapped around him so intimately. This however did not last. Once you started gyrating your hips towards him, meeting his slow and steady pace with zeal and hooking your right leg around his hip, forcing him to match a faster pace.

Both encouraged by your enthusiasm and his body's budding impatience he sat back on his haunches, dragging you with him by your hips to get into a better position to ramp up the pace. And boy did it ever! At this point you were nothing but a babbling mess. Your vocabulary was in shambles; only left with expletives and Stan's name as he quite literally fucked your brains out.

He wasn't fairing much better either. His chest was heaving with effort, sweat had plastered errant strands of hair to his forehead as well as his neck and his glasses were now back to almost falling off of his hooked nose. You could only imagine you looked similarly wrecked, which in that moment you could only hope it was a sight at least half as attractive as the one you had.

Very suddenly Stan pulled from you, putting the breaks on your mounting orgasm. You whined out your immediate displeasure before Stan flipped your positions so that you were now straddling him and he was reclined back on the bed. He gave you a leering grin while grabbing your hips to readjust your position above him.

"Sorry Sweetheart, my back was hurting up there."

A lame excuse if you heard any given the sleazy smile he was sporting but all you gave in response was a playful glare and a chaste peck on the corner of his mouth before he was slamming you back down onto his cock, effectively knocking the air out of your lungs.

He gave you no reprieve, hands gripping your waist hard enough to bruise and dragging you up and down his length at a pace that stung. Your breathing somewhat recovered, you braced your hands flat on his soft barreled chest and widened your stance to get to work.

You rode him fast and hard; the obscene wet slapping of skin against skin only increased and left the room feeling sweltering even in the night air.

“That’s it sweetheart. Got a real nice view here.”

His calloused hands digging into your hips, thumbs pressed bruisingly into where your pelvic bone met your hips while he aided your movements. You just barely avoided slumping into a pile of pleasured goo when he shifted upwards on the bed to suction himself onto a breast. Instead opting to carelessly claw into his back and shoulders for some semblance of stability. You almost found it in you to feel bad about it until Stan's mouth left your tits with a loud pop to let out a rumbling groan from so deep in his chest that physically shook you.The sound only drove you fuck him harder. The sounds the joining of your bodies made were entirely pornographic; the obscene wet slapping of skin against skin and your mirrored moans resounding in the dark of your room.

The line of being embarrassed at the noises both you and your body were making had been crossed a long time ago, your mind completely erasing any probable thoughts past the push and pull of your body against Stan and his cock dragging against the walls of your sex. After particularly harsh swivel of your hips Stan scrabbled to pull himself up into a sitting position and planting his feet firmly on the mattress below so he could fuck up into you.

“Fuck. Fuck yer gonna kill me kid.”

You nearly collapsed on his chest, the deep gravel of his sexed out voice taking all the power out of your shaking knees.

“God Stan keep talking.”

His eyes flew to your unfocused ones, eyebrows raised in surprise before grinning lecherously at you. He pulled you flush to his chest before leaning in to tongue at the forming hickey where your jaw met your neck.

“So that's how it's gunna be huh? You like me talking? You wanna hear what I gotta say?”

He rasped into your ear, voice dripping with a smug satisfaction that had you clenching hard around him and your nails digging further into his back.

“Yeah you do. You wanna listen to me talk while I fuck up into your cute little pussy huh?”

Your face burned bright at his words, embarrassment fluttering into the corners of your mind alongside your burning lust. You don't get much time to think about the sleaziness of his prior statement for too long as he took hold of your jaw, pulling you back to look at him.

“I asked you a question Sweetheart. It ain't too nice to ask a guy to talk to you and then not respond.”

He held your chin between his fingers, thumb sliding over the bottom lip of your panting mouth, his pace slowing a bit. He waited for you to answer him, watching your eyes uncross and refocus under drooped eyelids, body still bouncing at the force of his own thrusts.

If he had the patience in him he probably would have stopped entirely to tease you and further drive you up the wall but he didn't. Not when you fit so snugly around his cock, the wet slide of your vaginal walls caressing his length each time he punched up into your cervix. He really couldn't find it in himself to fully stop, merely slowing his ministrations to bully an answer from you.

You swore you could feel him in your throat now, the pace had died down substantially; it was almost casual the way he rocked you up and down his shaft with a chummy smile on his face.

You whined pathetically and tried to pull yourself up faster but was met with his strong hands moving you as he pleased.

“Haven't answered my question there Sugar. You wanna go faster you're gonna have to play along.”

He nipped along your collarbone as you let out a thin sound of frustration at his antics. Finding it extremely attractive but not wanting to say it out loud. It was when he bit hard at your shoulder and slammed home in one go that had you throwing your dignity out your bedroom window and moaning his name abashedly.

“Yes! God yes! I love hearing you talk!”

His hold on your hip tightened and you were immediately rewarded by Stan pulling you into his mouth for a peel and pleasure while pistoning up into you with a pace that a machine would envy.

You were so overwhelmed, plundering was the only word that could really describe what he was doing to you. His tongue invaded your mouth, exploring every available surface and sucking and biting your own lips raw while adjacently his cock plowed it's way through your hot insides over and over and over. Crooning and cooing every scandalous thought he'd had of you over the past month and a half into your ear.

Even with you on top it got to a point where he was essentially railing you from below. His face and chest flushed and covered in sweat from the effort of fucking you, eyelids drooping so low they were almost closed beneath his pinched brow and glasses.

“You close Honey? Cause I sure am. Whaddya need?”

He looked strained, clearly barely hanging on. Trying to bring you to orgasm before chasing his own, very well deserved release.

“Stan, touch me please.”

It was a pathetic little whimper but he heard it loud and clear. You were so close, his pace hurdling you towards the edge faster and faster but you just needed that little extra something to get you there. He wasted absolutely no time, licking the fore and middle fingers of his right hand and finding your neglected clit between your bodies. You moaned triumphantly when he put pressure on it, rubbing fast circles into the taught muscle while his cock pulled in and out of you from below. His pace with both his hips and his fingers was absolutely bruising, essentially trying to bully an orgasm out of your tired abused body as you rocked down onto him.

You literally screamed when he pinched your clit in his fingers. The wire snapping for the second time that night and you came harder than you ever had in your whole life. Your back arching as you howled out your pleasure, a mantra of yeses and Stan's name tumbling from your lips as he fucked you through it. Your body was useless as you shook atop him, being robbed blind by the earth shattering pleasure you felt.

The combination of hearing, seeing and physically feeling you climax around him had Stan racing to find his own end. Eyes flicking between your blissed out expression and the slight of his own cock spearing into you. You sat uselessly astride him as he used your body to chase his own pleasure, the wet sounds of your bodies together even more obscene than before thanks to your orgasm.

You had to see him, you wanted to see what he looked like when he came. Through the bleary haze of your mind you brought your left hand up to his jaw and jerked his face enough to look you in the eyes.

That was all it took as you watched his eyes roll back into his head as he moaned wantonly into your face, hips bucking and cock pushing as deep as it could as he came. A littany of curses and your name leaving his lips as he pumped his release into your waiting sex.

Finally your legs gave out and you collapsed on top of his chest with an exhausted sigh. Both of you were shaking and panting equally as you both respectively regained your grip on the world. Stan's large hands came to smooth up and down your back comfortingly as you tried to even out your breathing. Humming in approval as he rubbed soothing circles into your shoulder blades as you ran your fingers through his chest hair.

“Damn Toots.”

You didn't really know what happened now, clearly there was no awkwardness, not with the way he was touching you, but you didn't exactly know what to say. Saying anything about how you felt just felt way too soon and also you didn't want your sexed addled mess of a brain spilling all of the beans in just how infatuated you were with the man still inside of you.

Instead you pulled your head from his shoulder and kissed him softly, slowly working your jaw against his own lazily in the afterglow. He sighed against you, drawing you into his chest as he shuffled downwards into a more reclined position, his softening cock still inside you. You laid your chin on his chest, looking up at him as you toyed with the good chain around his neck. He met your gaze, a soft look of adoration on his face that made your heart swell and your eyes water.

You just smiled dumbly at him, his expression matching yours as you pushed his glasses back to their rightful place and slicked his hair back and out of his face.

“You really know how to tire a guy out.”

You laughed at that, smacking his chest playfully.

“You kept up real good there cowboy don't sell yourself short.”

He hummed at that, carding his fingers through your hair, fingers occasionally catching at the knots caused by your rigorous lovemaking.

“Didn't realize ya liked my voice like that either, good to know.”

“Sure do.”

He couldn't hide the smugness in his voice, let alone the extremely self satisfied look on his handsome face at your acknowledgement. You decided you'd let him have this one, especially since he was right and had a lot of evidence to back it up. Evidence which you could currently feel slowly collecting around the base of his cock where it rested inside of you.

You must've made a face because Stan patted your hip, forcing you to sit up and made to help you off of where you still sat astride him.

“Alright Sugar, time for the dismount.”

You were faster though, grabbing his wrist and stopping him short as he went to remove himself from you. He regarded you with an arched brow; questioning. You turned beet red, not thinking before your minor outburst and the implications of such.

“I- I wanna stay like this. If that's okay I mean.”

You stuttered out your admission like it physically burned you to do so. For a split second his brows nearly met his hairline before that self satisfied smirk settled back onto his face.

“Ya do huh? Didn't think ya were that kind of girl.”

At that he pulled you back into his embrace. He stopped your trip to hide your burning face into his neck to push your hair gently behind your ear and kiss you again. You could feel his smile against your lips, one you couldn't help but mirror as you felt him pull the covers of the bed over your waist.

You sighed dreamily as you sunk back into his chest, his arm slung heavily across your lower back. You could hear the soft click of him folding his glasses and putting them on the nightstand before his other hand came to join it's twin. You could feel yourself succumbing to the soft allure of slumber as you listened to the steady heartbeat beneath your ear.

“Hey Stan?"

He grunted softly, sounding closer to sleep than you were. You pressed a soft kiss on the underside of his jaw, cuddling closer.

“Goodnight.”

He pressed a kiss to your hair before you blissfully drifted off to sleep in his arms and into the start of a promising relationship.

[hyenafu]

After that last page you posted here for Slightly Damned, I'm actually curious! Sign Lingo is what Kieri and Buwaro are learning. But are demons using sign language also use Sign Lingo, or are they using a demon version? DSL, if you will?

Demons don’t have their own language, and that goes for sign language as well. Nikkei (the deaf fire Demon with yellow and red fur seen in St. Curtis) uses Sign Lingo, which is why the word balloons look the same (although I think I’ve mixed up the background color on the word balloons before, switching between white and pink).

So this answer isn’t too boring, here’s some ideas about language I’m mulling over in my head that are not 100% complete:

- in the beginning there was an ancient root language that the gods used to speak to their creations: the Angels, the Demons, and then later, the Medians (comprised of Humans, Jakkai, Fairies, Khamega, and Merfolk)

- Angelic is the closest to this ancient language but it’s not exactly the same. It inevitably changed over a long period of time.

- Lingo is derived from Angelic but it’s even more different from the original tongue. This is the language that most everyone speaks. Angels (as a society) are insular and see others as beneath them because they were created or co-created by their sworn enemy, Syndel.

- Sign Lingo is its own language, of course, but… for all intents and purposes, sharing its name with Lingo is made to indicate that it’s a common language shared among all

- The different countries of Medius don’t have their own languages just for the sake of storytelling convenience. Look, I’m not Tolkien, I’m too busy making my OCs kiss sorry

- this means some of the more “exotic” fantasy names in the comic are from Lingo. The characters are not technically speaking English; the comic has just been uhhh localized into English so that we on Earth can understand it (and other Earth languages as well, by fan translators with hearts of gold 💛)

- however, Fairies do have an innate secret language. Perhaps it cannot even be perceived by other races. But being able to understand the language can be bestowed onto people of other races by a Fairy (Samantha learned it from Duster).

- I think it would be neat if Merfolk could communicate through song to a certain extent, but maybe it’s not as precise as Lingo. Maybe it’s more useful for underwater communication and coordination, or mating calls, but not for arguing with your friend about which fish tastes best and why

These ideas are still being tumbled around in my brain so no one is allowed to get mad at me for it being dumb or claim it’s canon yet ;)

[lostsyren]

ᯓ★ perfect a gold-digger!sofia concept

{summary: what if sofia’s primary motive was to live the kook life? and what if rafe was her ticket to that dream?}

{a/n: it was fun to characterise sofia in a different way– i personally don’t think she’s a gold digger, so i added a bit of a softer spin to the concept! let me know what you think and what else you’d like to see from her or rafe’s characters!}

˙⋆✮⋆˙⋆✮⋆˙⋆✮⋆˙⋆✮⋆˙⋆✮⋆˙ ˙⋆✮⋆˙⋆✮⋆˙⋆✮⋆˙⋆✮⋆˙⋆✮⋆˙ ˙⋆✮⋆˙⋆✮⋆˙⋆✮⋆˙

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 He was perfect. Massive house, flashy car, shiny watch– Rafe Cameron, the kook king of the Outer Banks.

Sofia initially admired from afar, it wasn’t hard to after all– Rafe was at the country club almost every day and being the club bartender meant she had front row seats to him. The way all eyes gravitated to his person everytime he entered a room, the hundred dollar bills he’d pull out as tips, the way everyone wanted to be his friend.

Sofia wanted that. Desperately. She’d moved from Mexico to the OBX a few months ago, with barely any money; the money she did have, she used to make a down payment of the small house she’d rented. After that, Sofia quickly learnt the lingo of locals. Kook, Pogue. The Cut, Figure 8. 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

She was a Pogue and her house was on The Cut.

And the golden, glittering people at the club were Kooks and the sprawling white edifices were all on Figure 8.

Sofia burned with bitterness everytime one of those rich assholes bossed her around at work–

Two beers asap

Are you deaf? I said on the rocks

I’d like my bill today lady

But Rafe was different. He was…nice. He learnt her name– Miss Sofia he’d call her– and he’d always leave a generous tip. It just made Sofia more resolute– she wouldn’t stay a Pogue any longer.

“You going to Rafe’s party tomorrow?” She overheard a group of kook guys chatter at the bar. Her shift was nearly over, the sky dark already, and her body exhausted. But she perked up on hearing this.

“The one over at Tannyhill? Yeah I’m down.”

That night she was leaving work, trying to figure out how she’d get into that party as she headed to her car. But then it was like fate had thrust her towards the answer. There approaching her, way down the parking lot, was no other than Rafe Cameron.

Her heart soared in her chest. This was her chance.

They were moments away from crossing each other, Rafe locking eyes with her, throwing her a small half-smile.

Do it, she screamed at herself.

“Hi,” she greeted with a sweet smile.

“Hey,” he responded. Sofia could tell he was caught off guard but he still remained polite. Aside from when he ordered drinks, the two never talked. This was new territory for the both of them.

“I didn’t see you at the club today?”

“Yeah– I uh had some business to sort out.” Rafe stopped, taking the moment to talk with her.

She nodded enthusiastically, shining her big, bright eyes at him.

“You missed me huh?” He said with a smirk.

She was in.

“Of course, you’re my favourite customer.”

She watched him as he subtly eyed her.

“Well I guess I’ll see you then, bye Rafe.” She turned to walk to her car, her breath caught in her chest.

“Wait, wait. I’m having a party tomorrow at my house.”

She slowly turned around to face him, feigning unawareness, “oh…ok.”

“You should come by– if you’re free that is.”

“Yeah that’d be cool. What’s your address?”

Rafe raised his eyebrow as if he didn’t understand the questions, “Tannyhill?”

Sofia shook her head, to say she still didn’t know.

“Shit sorry, I keep forgetting that you’re not from here. Just give me your number and I’ll text it to you.”

And that’s how Sofia managed to be the girl on Rafe Cameron’s arm. It wasn’t hard to like him– he was charming, funny, not to mention handsome. She thought it’d be harder to get into his bed, after all she was a Pogue, a bartender– she was supposed to be invisible to him. But Rafe was surprisingly down. Desperate even. Like he was trying to distract himself from something.

Sofia’s heart sometimes stirred for the boy. But she reminded herself of what she truly wanted– this. The satin bedsheets, the crystal chandeliers, the ocean view.

She didn’t feel bad, or guilty– both her and Rafe’s ‘relationship’ was transactional. They both took things.

For her it was the fancy dinners he’d take her on and hefty tips he’d slide her at the bar and for him it was…company. Sofia realised Rafe Cameron was actually quite lonely.

So she played the part. It wasn’t hard. There was something vulnerable about Rafe that made her care. But she’d always quash it down knowing how messy feelings would be– she wasn’t loosing out on the lux and glitz of the kook life to something as trivial as heartbreak.

Sofia was currently taking a bath in the claw footed tub in the en-suite of Rafe’s bedroom at Tannyhill. Inhaling softly, eyes closed, she breathed in the lavender scent of the water, her hands skimming the iridescent bubbles on the surface.

It was late and after they’d messed around for a bit, Rafe had run her a bath.

Sofia sighed softly to herself thinking this wouldn’t be possible back home with her single shower with the shit water pressure.

A soft knock on the bathroom door interrupted her clouding thoughts.

“Hmn?” She hummed, blinking open her eyes.

“Can I come in?” Rafe asked, on the other side of the door.

“Yeah.”

He entered, Sofia smiling up at home from the bathtub. He’d gotten changed into some grey sweats and a T-shirt that pulled across his arms. Sofia wouldn’t have minded going for another round.

“What’s up?” She smiled, the water reaching her neck.

“Nothing– just wanted to talk to you about something.”

Her heart dropped into her stomach. Was he ending this? This…situationship?

“Hey, what’s wrong?” She simpered, her eyebrows furrowing in concern.

“That day–” he coughed clearing his throat, “that day on the balcony, after you stayed over, you gave me some advice– do you remember?”

Rafe approached Sofia, sitting on the edge of the bathtub, his body turned to face her. Her eyes trailed down to his fingers, the tips of them skimming the bubbly water.

That day on the balcony– that day he was acting…off. He’d been stressed out, terse. It had worried her.

Sofia nodded slowly, noticing how he avoided eye contact with her. “Yeah, what about it?”

“You really helped me that day…more than you know.” He mumbled.

Sofia lifted her hand out the water, locking her fingers with his, “Rafe– is everything ok?” She was seriously beginning to worry now, the feeling of care, that warm sticky emotion, worming its way inside her heart. When she felt like that she’d forget what this was– she’d forget how Rafe saw her as a fuck buddy, and she’d forget how she saw him as a gold mine. Instead she only saw him and how she wanted to help him feel better.

“Everything is fine. I uh just wanted to say thank you for that.”

She gave him a confused, lopsided smile, “you’re welcome?”

“Here I got something for you.” He let go of her hand, pulling out a small black box from his pocket, and giving it to her to open.

Sofia glanced at the box, then back up at him. He had a stupid smirk plastered across his face, the abashed look from before already faded.

“Rafe– you didn’t have to.” She said, internally thrumming with delight. Her fingers slowly opened the gift, revealing a thread of scintillating diamonds resting on black velvet, like stars in the night sky.

“Dios mio,” she breathed. It was beautiful.

“Here let me put it on you.”

“No don’t– I’m in the bath, I don’t want to ruin it.”

Rafe chuckled lowly, “Sof, they’re diamonds– they don’t get ruined.”

She didn’t even know what to respond to that, so she just grinned widely, letting out an excited laugh.

Rafe took out the spool of sparkles, standing up to walk behind her. He knelt down low, bringing the necklace onto her décolleté, Sofia jolting slightly at how cold it felt. She looked down to see the delicate metal rest prettily on her skin, the water lapping up to graze the diamonds.

“It’s so beautiful, thank you Rafe.” She gushed, turning her neck to face him.

“Don’t mention it,” he whispered into her ear, planting a kiss on her temple, peppering more kissed until he reached her lips. Sofia gasped against his mouth, savouring the sensation of the cold diamonds and his hot fingers trailing her neck.

Her broke the kiss, his eyes roving down her face to her chest, “I’ll let you finish your bath.” Rafe stood up, leaving the room.

Sofia felt conflicted. A diamond necklace? For a piece of advice? It felt like an unfair trade. But she quickly got over it when she saw the way they sparkled under the bathroom lights.

This was the life she wanted. And she would bask in it.

“Hurry up alright? I wanna see the necklace on you up close.” Rafe called from the room.

Sofia laughed, “gonna take my time now!” She called back, sinking into the water, closing her eyes once again.

Perfect. This was perfect.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

[gemglyph]

I know enough to get by

I’ll check it out!

Album:

This album is nice, but uh.. not all of it is gentle. I can make one later with the more soothing music

"Selectively Mute Link" is seriously relatable today like holy cow why am I so overstimulated by the world lol

[lupins-hehim-pussy]

Hi i have sigewinne thoughts id like to hear your takes on

It is established that sigewinne is in the fortress wayyyy before wrio because she was also incarcerated for something right (or maybe she just has weird lingo that makes it SOUND like she committed a crime idk). And its still unclear exactly when she went from being an inmate to a working nurse (could be the same as wrio or she was also one of the people who chose to stay in meropide after her sentence is over who knows).

But like the warden before wrio is horrible iirc. And idk man horrible warden would equal unhappy, starving, desperate, and violent (and most importantly DEAD!) prisoners right?

I know melusines has this higher being-esque distant way of how they view humanity. They talk about humans being adorable like how humans would describe pets and animals. Im not saying its in a deragotory way, but theyre... a lil bit tone deaf because of it ya know. Like they KNOW they should do good for good sake but not exactly comprehend that good would make humans feel good (sedene literally went 'ah yes i remember that when humans are sad, you feed them, then theyre not sad!)

Do you think sigewinne would just... people watch? Would help humans that approach her yeah but she just... is aware that the humans around her are the sad and the hungry. And they are just less so when the warden changed? I doubt ANYONE would stay in meropide after their sentence during the previous warden era, but her staying solely to people watch and keep them healthy isnt.... that... farfetched.

And i love sigewinne, would probably need that level of distance to be a tiny nurse in a fortress of criminals. I just wonder how she is during the previous warden era because i dont really see her getting along with them either (or the warden kept her around for free labour who knows)

Sorry for the late reply, my social spoon has been low. The yap machine broke LOL

ANYWAY the melusines. I do honestly think Genshin Often write themselves into a hole with how they want to keep things "light" while still ... doing ... dark crazy shit. Putting a Melusine in Jail. Why. And also genshin's writer team is just... not good. But we have been through that I've rambled At Length about what I think there so.

Here's specific thoughts about Sigewinne.

Firstly............ what? I haven't touched new content since Fontaine MSQ finished, disclaimer, so I'm just taking your word for it. Secondly, making Sigewinne an ex convict is just so immensely Dumb of Mihoyo because that meant. Neuvillette had to sentence her. Right?? And how is That not more prominent to his story than him having to sentence Vautrin or even Wriothesley for that matter, given how he canonically feels about the Melusines and their safety. Sending one of them to Prison, where all of the Bad Guys who Hates Him and would kill the Melusines to get back at him. would ... have to fuck him up. Like he reacted so severely to just Hate Mail. How was Sigewinne's story Not At All impactful to his?

This is almost surely a Teams Not Communicating and/or Mihoyo Haven't Released Her So Everything About Her is Under Wraps thing. Which also makes no sense because.................. Wriothesley's sentence was literally referenced by that file on Neuvillette's desk. Which by the way is insane like sir it has been years. Put it away. But did they do anything like that for Sigewinne? I dunno. Haven't played in ages. The fact that she works down there At All is kinda wack if you consider how protective Neuvillette is.

So........ like... were the Melusines around even Before he was Iudex? He only brought them out of the water and into Fontaine but it's not stated that they're actually younger than him... or younger than 500 years right....... Was she sentenced by the Previous Archon? How can MHY tell a story that says so much and yet answers nothing.

Anyway, about Sigewinne and the Melusines' inaction specifically, I don't actually mind too much. They are so extremely different from humans in terms of how they age and what their maturity looks like, and that it's not too hard for me to grasp that they're just gonna act in ways that make them seem................... so out of touch. This layer actually adds so much to them in my mind in terms of how their immortality works compared to say, the Adepti, and how their emotions and memory function. I once had a thought that because they are so unaffected by loss and death all around them that they might... literally... be one of the only immortal species on Teyvat that is immune to corrosion lol. Or at least, the emotional anguish kind. In the sense they're almost like slimes. Where they just:

1. Don't recall their history with much intensity at all (that one melusine literally forgot Carole died. Or maybe it wasn't made clear to her that one of them just vanished. Maybe a lot more Melusines have died than we thought).

2. Don't care. #Live in the moment.

3. Don't ruminate (I literally said this in my fic funnily enough AHAHAHA).

Like if anyone in Fontaine is truly seriously impartial to humans, its them. Their ability to be so detached to suffering looks Frightening to outsiders (layering on their history with discrimination here lmao) but in actuality, if you consider that they're legitimately another species with a different brain, you'd be able to see their behaviour through less of a moral lense. It's literally as if they don't fully comprehend life and death— even Carole doesn't seem to fully understand death itself. And they forget things (Elynas, their 'father') which is arguably Not Erosion (forgetting small stuff is normal, and if you live as long as they do, yeah, you're better off forgetting things from 298274 years ago). Even if they remember it's probably like. Oh, that was sad! Anyway, what was I doing?

They just don't. Ruminate. They aren't built like that.

And I don't think that means that they don't care. They're just genuinely very different from humans in how they think and feel. And I refrain from saying "they're autistic" or "emotionally stunted" because these are human conditions and human terms, even if I very much frame my understanding of them through my understanding of these other human conditions. Which is why Neuvillette isn't exactly autistic either. But it's very Hard to say in his case because there's not exactly. Other Water Dragons for us to compare to and see if his cognitive/emotional abilities are Different from them (Unless it's modern au. In which yeah, he is lmao). But all the Melusines have this sort of detachment as if like, emotionally, they don't have... the trauma function basically. Or at least not one that's comprehensible to us.

So in my head, I do think Sigewinne tries her best, but she just simply isn't as emotionally charged by her experiences as, say, Wriothesley. She worked in Meropide while Wriothesley was sentenced there, so she did work under the previous warden as well, and I'm sure she did her job Well and she had her own way of caring for people but if they drop dead... genuinely, I think she'd just be like. "Aw, how sad. Anyway, I have other people to treat." Which, arguably, makes her a much more efficient nurse LMAO.

And it may seem so cruel to people do view her through a humanistic lense, but if you see it as like, if she's reached the level of enlightenment that Buddhist practitioners could only Dream of, and she's able to literally let these heavy events wash over her without letting it affect her, all while still being a caring being, this all would hopefully feel less uncomfortable. I do genuinely think she cares, but her emotional range and cognition just reaches. This point. Which is fine and doesn't make her inherently a bad character or person, I think.

I do literally think she can sit down with someone grieving and be like, "I understand that you are going through a process, and I will let you process things at your own rate, while I administer care as well as I can."

And they can be like, "Why don't you give a shit that they died?!!"

And she'd be like, "Would me feeling worse bring them back?"

Then, depends on how they react, she would continue like. "Unfortunately I do not feel things the same way that you do, and I do understand that humans often want their conversation partners to be able to relate to them, to feel as though they aren't alone in their feelings. Perhaps if you attend the memorial later, you'd be able to find those who can grieve with you. But if you feel any pain, or need any medicine, I will be here to help you!"

Yknow like. She's not Unkind. But she's very much... not gonna feel the same way about death as her patients. If anything this might make her the Best Suited person to be in charge of care in Meropide, and she might have already figured that out herself, and was like, "Monsieur Neuvillette, only I can do this without going insane. Please let me do this."

And he's like............... (shaking with fear for her) "Alright."

[the-slender-doll]

My newest proxy for my Slenderverse entourage! Originally I designed him as an adopt but decided to take him and add him to my group.

Here's his reference sheet + a bonus sketch of his outfit underneath his poncho and unmasked!

Here's what I got so far for my new boy:

• His full name is Bryn Erwood and goes by the proxy moniker of Cyanide.

• From Wales but raised in the UK by his parents. Has a mixed accent because of this but uses British lingo nonetheless.

• Chemist skillset; Loves tinkering with explosives and the like and combining his knowledge of chemistry and chemical reactions to make them. Proficient in poisonous gases, grenade like explosives, fire bombs and smoke bombs. Uses combat knives to finish off victims.

• Has been serving for about 17 years. Assassin class. One of the few surviving assassin veterans younger than my girl Huntress.

• He's one of the very few who has mastered the "Shadow Walk"/ "Slender Walk" to his advantage but his sanity has certainly taken a hit in exchange because of the Sickness's influence. Hes very much a kook.

• He's a powderkeg in temperament because of the Sickness, swinging between the extremes of mania and anger depending on his mood. Overall a chaotic gremlin.

• Disfigurement on his hands from chemical burns and disfigurement on his face due to a misaimed explosive during a mission with others that resulted in them having to kill witnesses. He wears his facial disfigurement with pride though, joking he had a miscalculation but has enough insight now to avoid future accidents.

• Blind in his right eye and deaf in his right ear because of the damage. He also can't regrow his hair on the right side of his scalp. Voice is raspy from heat and smoke damage and he's prone to coughing fits.

So yeah new oc!

I really hope you guys enjoy him!

[cool-superwolfycat-posts]

Say hi to the Anergy gang!!! My fan made gang for bomb rush cyberfunk!! They are a gang of cyber heads here to her people back and energized and happy! Their big fans of the bomb rush crew and the DOTexe and so mixed both into their own gang!! Let me give you them and little facts on them!!

Monst-Er

*the leader of Anergy and the most chill, he'd vibe with anyone with ease

*hes got a doctorate in mental health so he is technically a skating therapist (he don't mind it)

*Out of all of the gang he's to most happy out of all of the gang! He can lighten up about any mood with it

Red-Bull

*second in command and the most hard hitter! He keeps everyone in line when it needs to happen

*he is the one who gets mad the most and you can tell by his back price of his head bubbling with rage

*hes a really good guy once you get under all that armor he put up! He love cute things and will never tell you!

Rock-Star

*the one with the most energy in the gang, he's the one who racks the most points whenever in a point fight

*one with the most energy comes with the downside of no brain cells you will be simple with a lot of word if your gonna chat with him

*hes the biggest fan of DOTexe and will semi copy their lingo and so he is known to say lol and EZ

Ghos-t

*the silent one in the gang he is the most chaotic, causing harmless pranks on people to cheer them up!

*he is actually deaf and do will speak in sign language or since he is a cyber head use the radio to make sentences (like bumblebee)

*like his name implies he is incredibly quiet and by accident or not, scare people just by making a sound or tapping the person. He will always say sorry if he did scare them

I hope you like them as much as I do!! I hope one day if I'm able to they can be a mod for brc!!

[practically-an-x-man]

OC ask time :3! I thought of this one last week and finally got around to putting it down. Sorry if you've been asked something similar before</3

For whoever you'd like, what is their most mundane weakness? For example, who couldn't cook even if their life depended on it? Who's failed their driver's test six times? Who never learned to use a hairdryer?

Oooh this is fun! Thank you!!

Rae: Is super awkward on phone calls

Robin: Cannot follow a conversation with more than 3 people. This is partially because she's Deaf and has to pay attention by lipreading (and sometimes using her ability as a hearing aid), but she also just loses track of the conversation when it gets too crowded.

Madison: Can only do math when it comes to recipes. Maybe this is because she never finished high school, maybe it's just how her brain works, but she's not a math person.

Ophelia: She cannot drive a car. She grew up in NYC, and only left when she was at college, so she never learned how to drive.

Jasper: Has to use their phone to calculate tips at a restaurant

Kestrel: Cannot make polite small talk for the life of them

Katherine: Is always about two minutes from being late for something at any given moment

Quinn: Has been home-dyeing her hair for years now, and still always manages to dye her hands and forehead in the process

Eris: Cannot ever get the hang of slang or modern lingo, they're perpetually about 2 decades behind

Nikoletta: Refuses to sit or stand with her back to the doorway, even if that's inconvenient (she usually tries to keep a wall to her back, or at least has someone she trusts behind her if she can)

[faeratil]

New location has another kpop fan! We chatted about our biases, and I introduced them to Big Ocean, who if you haven’t heard yet you should go listen. (They’re very new, only a 3 person group, and it’s the first fully deaf/HOH kpop group. Seriously go listen to them.)

I’m just so glad I get to talk to someone irl who knows the kpop lingo and isn’t embarrassed to talk about it with me.

[thethndr]

18+ ⚡︎ SFW ⚡︎ SEMI-SELECTIVE CHICK HICKS OF PI.XAR'S CARS & CARS 3

BIO ⚡︎ VERSES ⚡︎ PROMO

"IN YOUR DREAMS, THUNDER." "'THUNDER'? — WHAT'S HE TALKING ABOUT, 'THUNDER'?"

TRACK RULES

⚡︎ SELECTIVITY; kind of a given amongst any RP blog either way, but I'll be curating my own space here! To summarize, I am ORIGINAL CHARACTER friendly, CROSSOVER friendly, and AU friendly, but I will pick and choose whatever deriving from these I wish to entertain! ⚡︎ PERSONAL BLOGS (non-rp blogs); YOU MAY FOLLOW!!! smooch smooch ily sm just please be nice to me and let me do my thaaaang ⚡︎ ACTIVITY; relatively low, sadly :'D I work full-time and even weekends often elude me. writing will happen whenever I have time and inspiration. ⚡︎ SHIPPING; probably not but we'll see /shrug. ⚡︎ NSFW/SUGGESTIVE CONTENT; nah. some vaguely mature themes may arise here and there but nothing at all in the lane of suggestive or sexual.

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WHAT'S THE DEALIO HERE?;

HI I'M CHICKLOVER01! wait— HIIII I'm R and I run this joint. 21+. I was in the Tumblr RP scene for a good long stint years back but it's been a hot minute since then and my ears may fall deaf on a lot of the new lingo and trends, so bear with me kindly! DISCLAIMER; YES THIS IS A GENUINE CA.RS RP BLOG. I understand due to the nature of the franchise it has an inherent "crack" vibe to it, and while I'm still intending to entertain the humorous aspect of it, this blog still exists in earnest! KA-CHICKA btw. I'm also going to be EXCESSIVELY LOOSE with interpretation and details regarding the Cars world and the ca.rs themselves considering that the worldbuilding tends to cave in on itself with any elaborate thought. In terms of interacting with a literal car, I frankly do not mind however you choose to approach it! Whether it's normal, it's insane, it's just another Tuesday morning to your muse -- whatevah's your cup of tea! I also embrace the tonal whiplash of a completely normal human or fantasy character interacting with Chick because I think it's funny. BUT WITH THAT BEING SAID; I also have a humanized verse for those interested.

THANK YOU FOR READING I now bequeath him to you

[mermer404]

just a wild guess /gen: i think people are mad at audible because they are only acknowledging israel and not both israel and palestine at the very least?

also “tragic events in the middle east” is how audible phrased it. not OP.

it’s entirely tone deaf to give 6 months of free books in the first place when people are literally dying. but the overarching problem is also that audible chose to not speak up on the genocide happening nor chose to at least promote palestinian literature.

it’s less about dehumanising israelis and more about the obvious favouritism, y’know?

also, as admirable as the link for donations to the red crescent, it’s not of much use to palestinians right now because there are blockades places and they cannot receive any aid or relief. in fact, hospitals in palestine as of right now, are not even able to treat their patients. and, the banks are destroyed so there is no way for anyone to withdraw money in gaza (as reported by journalists on site)

would be much more helpful if you shared links to ceasefire petitions and BDS-approved boycott lists that directly fund the IDF.

tbh i feel like even israelis should boycott audible that was such performative activism from them.

Hi anon!

I'm responding to this because you're genuine and you're polite, which I appreciate. So many people don't bother with human decency, I want to acknowledge it. You are a person just like me trying real hard just like me and I want to send you my appreciation rather than ignore you.

However, I feel like you missed my point entirely. Maybe some time I will go over it point by point in detail with sources and shit, because you seem a decent person and maybe we could have an actual conversation, but we are it seems on very different pages and putting us on the same page would be a lot of work. A lot of what you said is misleading or only part of the picture, but I am very very tired and very sad, I can't do this right now. People I know have died and my heart aches. You understand that, I hope. Talking about this just makes me sadder. Can only do a little bit at a time, you know?

In short:

In case that wasn't clear: what is happening in Palestine (to avoid the "SiTuAtiON 😐" lingo it's being bombed and invaded, thousands of people are dead, probably tens of thousands even, most civillians and many children) is deeply deeply sad and upsetting. A dead child is a dead child and I am angered and hurt by it just the same. Civilian death is sad no matter what side they are on.

I am not your enemy. Our relationship may be complicated, but in many ways we are allies.

It is tone deaf but I didn't expect better from Amazon. This is a stupid publicity trick, it's pathetic. I did — god have pity on my poor soul — expect better from fellow leftists. This "😐" is the exact same patronizing indifference, done in the most stupid passive-aggressive way, that's the shit I'm talking about. This is how they talk about us, if not much worse.

I don't know how into social media you are, but if you've noticed: people talk a lot about Palestine (which again, is important) but they do not mention, not in one word in their dozens of posts on the topic, what happened on October 7th. If you get a lot of your info on social media, maybe you didn't know about it either. I empathize with what you are saying, I feel that kind of pain on my skin, because those same people are doing that to us. When people were being burned alive in their homes, children abused and shot, girls raped to the point of their bodies breaking, these same people were silent. I understand what you are talking about, deeply. Many of these people are upset when companies or celebraties do this kind of one sided thing and then go on to do the same to Israelis. When my people were dying, terribly, in horrific ways, they turned a blind eye, and that hurt, deeply. Especially as a Jewish person.

Donations do not only "get stuck" situationally, they are for the most part pocketed by Hamas, have been for years. It's one of the most rich terrorist organizations in the world, and a lot of it is money from people like you. The red crescent is one of the very few more reliable charities. I do unironically hope people donate — but they probably won't. This was meant to highlight the entire bullshitery of the situation. I'm well aware donations can be of little use. It's much more use than any of this garbage, though.

The BDS are a shitty antisemitic organization and I am kindly discouraging you from supporting them. I was going to link why they are shitty and antisemitic + peace organizations and charities you can participate and donate to instead but honestly I am so tired and I just want to cry. Do your own research. You got this.

Israelis' friends and family are dead. They are crying and aching while people here type away. Even with that, many are doing incredible amounts of activism — making food, donating clothes, delivering it all to the hundreds of thousands of people who've been forced to leave their homes near the borders. This is just one example. They are doing so much more than boycotting Amazon, which is honestly, excuse my french, a shitty lazy pathetic form of activism, that is basically what my post was about. People have been focusing on boycotts and random internet bullshit on Twitter instead of what really matters. Even the calls for ceasefire — Hamas have never in the history of its existence withheld a ceasefire agreement, and 240 civilians, 30 of them children, are still held hostage. Activism from the international pro-Palestine movements has been often useless, simplistic, ignorant and sometimes straight up violent. Just a few days ago a man was killed in a pro-Palestine protest. I don't want to discourage activism, quite the opposite. But people are so shit at it, meanwhile my people here and my brothers & sisters over the border are dying. Do you understand my frustration?

If this is what works for you I get that. The world is shit and you do anything to get a sense of control back. But I've lost too much and ache too much to have any time, energy or respect for the kind of bullshit these people have been up to.

If this is too harsh, or hurt your feelings, I am sorry. Again, the way I see it, you are my ally and I am yours. I hope you understand what I am saying and know my heart is with you. I hope your heart is with me, too.

Thank you for caring. Stay safe.

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

Sweet serenade (part 1)

Bunty Windermere x reader. This is part one of two.

My first Father Brown fic! The Polish resettlement camp mentioned here is the one Suzie lived in, even though it hasn’t been mentioned since season 1. I usually watch Father Brown dubbed in my language, which is why I’m not sure I can faithfully portray the “voice” of the characters, with the appropriate 1950s lingo and all that; any suggestion is appreciated!

Warning: mentions of homophobia.

*****

Ten years ago

Bunty Windermere, sixteen years, three months and four days old, weeps silently, cuddled up on the spacious bed, in her family’s stately home; the walls have been recently repainted in a pretty peach colour her mother has chosen, and Bunty dislikes. She has put on her nightgown to cover the chemise that was everything she had on when her parents arrived, and tears keep flowing down her face; tears of pain, and regret, and most of all, of shame.

Oh, Merry, Bunty thinks; that’s all she can do, since the person those apologies are directed to is gone, thrown out of the house she has worked faithfully in for more than a year, and she’ll probably never see her again. I am so sorry. It’s all my fault… 

Bunty’s bedroom is on the first floor, and her parents have decided to retire to the living room before starting to argue, which is why their voices arrive muffled to her ears - not so much, though, to make it impossible for Bunty to decipher their words, especially her father’s, since he’s the one who is almost shouting. A blasted invert… against nature… under my roof… disgusting… 

Her tears have all but washed away Bunty’s make-up, which she tried to copy from a ladies’ magazine to look nice for her date. Hands pressed to her ears, she wills herself to become deaf to those terrible insults and accusations, and so misses the soft noise of the door opening, and realises she’s not alone in the room anymore only when, lying on her stomach with her arms hiding her face, she catches a glimpse of a pair of elegant, high-heeled shoes approaching the bed.

“May I come in, Bunty?” Aunt Fliss asks softly, and after a moment of confusion the girl quickly remembers that of course, her aunt had been invited to that soirée -that blasted soirée, Bunty thinks resentfully; what adult people party ends before eleven at night?!- at the home of a friend of her parents, so it’s not surprising that she came home with them, maybe for a nightcap or something of the sort.

Felicia, newly engaged to lord Montague -a man Bunty doesn’t necessarily dislike, but she thinks her aunt deserves much better, or at least more than a man who is already losing his hair before turning forty- as usual impeccably dressed, stylish and just a little more daring that would normally be acceptable, doesn’t wait for an answer to her question, but goes sit on the bed next to her niece. She takes a look around -the clothes abandoned on the chair and chest of drawers, the books and magazines piled on the desk, a record by Édith Piaf Bunty had put on her phonograph to create what she hoped was the right atmosphere for the evening- comments that the room is as messy as her own was when she was her niece’s age and she likes it very much, and then, circling Bunty’s shoulders with her arm, she sweetly inquires: “You want to tell me what has happened?”

Bunty is pretty sure her aunt already knows -after all the shouting match has been going on for fifteen minutes already, that is since Felicia and her brother and sister-in-law have returned from the party- but since her aunt is the only real ally she has ever had within the family, Bunty decides to indulge her, no matter how ashamed she feels - not of the fact itself, but of the pain and trouble she has caused to someone who didn’t deserve any of it. 

“It… it’s about Merry - Meredith, I mean, our maid; she’s a year older than me, she lives in the attic.” she begins, without the courage to look her aunt in the eyes; with a pang of guilt, she realises she should now use the past tense “Mom and dad came back earlier than expected, and… and they found her here with me.”

A pause. 

“We were in bed together.”

“I had gathered that much, Penelope.” her aunt sighs, without breaking her hug; the revelation seems to have surprised her, but there is no trace of disgust or horror on her elegant face, which comforts Bunty more than she could explain in words. She can still hear her parents fight; she can hear her mother crying, which is something she is not used to, and that makes her feel as if a whole building were weighing on her back, crushing her to the ground. 

“Dad is very angry, isn’t he?”

“I’m afraid so, darling; and I fear Meredith will be forced to leave. But don’t worry, I’ll speak to your father and I’ll convince him to give her good references, so that she can find a new job.”

“If he refuses you could threaten to tell mum he is having an affair with that woman working at his club.” Bunty suggests, and smiles weakly at her aunt’s surprise; her brother’s infidelity is old news for Felicia, and this club woman is the latest of a long list, but she had no idea her niece was aware of the fact “I’m not the only one in the family with a secret, aren’t I?” 

“You clearly aren’t. How do you feel?” 

Bunty sobs as she turns on her side, looking helplessly at her aunt; she has never felt so alone, and she has never looked so young and helpless. “I feel wretched. It’s all my fault, now Merry will lose her job, while I’ll be forbidden to leave the house for a while at worst. It was my idea, I invited Merry to come here, and now I ruined her life…”

Felicia softly points out that she clearly didn’t mean to cause so much trouble for her friend, who in any case will easily find another job, and Bunty answers that doesn’t make her feel better at all. Merry may not be her soulmate, she’s already mature enough to know, but Bunty liked her very much, and while she meant well when she started flirting with the young maid and knows Merry reciprocated the interest in full, she never stopped to think about what their difference in status may mean should they be discovered.  

“Aunt Fliss?”

“Yes, darling?” Felicia asks kindly, and Bunty looks at her. Felicia Windermere is no saint, and her niece knows what is being said about her, about her friends and those parties she attends where most of the attendees arrive with a partner and leave with another, but she doesn’t care; her aunt is a clever, resourceful woman, one who has always gone her own way without letting herself being influenced by critics and disapproval. Bunty trusts Felicia, she actually wishes she were a lot like her, and because of this she finds the courage to ask for… what? Absolution? Or maybe simply understanding…

“Is what Merry and I were doing so wrong? I am… very fond of her, and she of me, no one had been forced…” 

Felicia sighs as she looks at her niece, not unkindly, as she thinks back to when she was Bunty’s age and questions like that still made sense. A melancholic smile brushes against her rouged lips; she is decidedly not the most appropriate person to teach a young girl what is right or wrong concerning matters of the heart and she knows. “I wish I could tell you that as long as you hurt no one you can be free to live your life as you please.” she murmurs in the end “Unfortunately that is not how things work, and you are old enough to understand this. But there is one thing I want you to remember: don’t let anyone, especially not a person as close-minded as your father, make you feel ashamed about yourself, and tell you who to be fond of - who to love.”

Bunty’s smile is bitter as she dries her tears on the back of her hand - too bitter for her age, and for a person whose only sin has been to follow the desires of her heart. “If he catches me with a girl again I think dad would kill me; or even worse, put me in a convent.” she points out softly, only partially exaggerating, and her aunt admits that yes, her brother may accept a daughter who flirts with boys, but finding her with a person of her own gender…in that case the consequences could very well be catastrophic.

Felicia takes her niece’s face in her hands. “Try looking after yourself, Penelope” she advises, her eyes full of affection and concern, and Bunty promises she will. 

Six months ago

Bunty Windermere, twenty-five years, seven months and twelve days old, walks leisurely through the streets of Kembleford, an odd feeling, both resignation and hope, filling her heart. She is obviously happy to have escaped the latest row with her parents -her father especially- and since aunt Fliss had spoken so well about the village in her letters she is sure she’ll feel right at ease as well, but this place is so tiny… there is no night club or bar, the shops are so few she can count them on one hand and the most exciting event of the year must be the parish bingo at Christmas. She has met Father Brown only yesterday and she knows he is an exceptional person already, and mrs McCarthy, who she has heard so much about from her aunt it is almost as if they knew each other already, has been very kind to her as well, but people here go to bed with the sun and there is really nothing to do, nothing a person her age could do to pass the time and have some fun…

She’s walking along an empty unpaved road at the edge of the village, not far from the Polish resettlement camp, a gentle wind making the hem of her skirt twirl around her calves, her blue handbag hanging from her elbow. Bunty is so deep in her thoughts she doesn’t realise she’s no longer alone on the path until it’s too late; one moment the roar of an approaching engine behind her reaches her ears…

… and the next a moped, coming down the road at full speed, reaches her, and as the vehicle passes her the driver reaches towards Bunty, grabs the strap of her handbag and snatches it off her. 

A strangled cry, due more to surprise than fear or pain, escapes Bunty’s lips; she stumbles, already vaguely aware of what has happened but too shaken to react, and a moment later she has lost her balance, and she is falling, face forward onto the ground, and she knows it’s going to hurt, a lot, but she can’t do anything to stop it… 

She hits the ground hard, and pain explodes inside her; Bunty remains still for a minute, dizzy and still partially uncomprehending, before cautiously checking herself for damages; her face is miraculously uninjured, but she has hit both her right elbow and knee, and she can feel blood trickling down her leg. 

Those few seconds were enough to allow the moped, and the person driving it, to get away, the engine noise already disappearing in the distance. Bunty swears (something she had ordered herself never to do when in Father Brown’s company, or mrs McCarthy’s) under her breath. She had never been mugged in her life, a positive streak she’d rather not have broken. It’s really absurd, nothing ever happened to her when she lived in London, and then, after she moves to a tiny, sleepy village…!

“Oh, my God…!”

An alarmed, female voice fills the air, and then the sound of an hurried walk. Bunty blinks and, still lying on her stomach, sees a pair of sturdy brown boots enter her field of vision, and then a pair of knees, as their owner squats in front of her. “Are you alright? Did you hurt your head?” 

“No, I… I’m fine, I think.”

“Oh, that’s a relief. Give me your hand; can you stand?”

She can, and she does, the other woman ready to intervene should she stumble or lose balance again. “I saw what happened, but I was too far to intervene.” she explains, as if Bunty could accuse her otherwise; the moped has disappeared in the countryside surrounding the village, and the two women, being on foot, have no way to reach it “Did you see who it was?”

Bunty shakes her head as she checks herself; fortunately the one on her elbow is just a scratch, but her left leg is bleeding. She gratefully accepts the handkerchief the other woman quickly retrieves from her own handbag and offers her, and she reflects that she has to adjust her opinion on Kembleford, the village is not as sleepy and boring as she expected at all! Lovely, I’ve been here for less than a day and I have been mugged already… 

“Unfortunately no; it was a man, of that I’m pretty sure, but I couldn’t see his face.” she explains “And in any case I don’t know anyone yet, here in the village, so…”

The woman beams at her; she has a lovely smile, Bunty can’t help noticing.

“Ah! You must be lady Felicia’s niece; Father Brown mentioned you had moved here. Your name is Penelope, yes?”

It is; but she has not thought of herself as a Penelope since she was six. “I’m Bunty, Bunty Windermere.”

“It’s very nice to meet you; I’m (name), (full name).” 

They shake hands, and Bunty finds herself looking curiously at the other woman: she’s the first person her own age she meets after her arrival in Kembleford. (name) smiles at her, but a moment later her cheeks turn pink. “Oh, I’m so sorry; you have just been robbed, and I waste time making small talk…”

Bunty shakes her head; she’s still upset, but (name)’s presence is having a positive, reassuring effect on her… as if she couldn’t help feeling better, even though her handbag is lost and the other woman can’t do anything to help her.

“It’s no problem, really; it was good of you to come assist me.”

“Don’t mention it, I just wish I were close enough to intervene. I’m sorry for your handbag; did you have… something important in it…?”

Bunty shrugs; fortunately she didn’t expect to have a reason to carry money with her in Kembleford, since there are no clothing shops or restaurants. “Not much, but it had my favourite lipstick inside, and my documents… Well, I can ask for a new copy of those. I’m mainly sorry about the handbag, it was a gift from my aunt…” 

(name) frowns, her hands in her skirt’s pockets. She couldn’t look more vexed if she had been mugged herself, Bunty thinks with a sudden surge of affection, an unexpected feeling given the fact they have just met.

“I’m so sorry for what happened, and just a day after your arrival in Kembleford, I don’t even want to know what you must be thinking about the people here…”

“Well, unfortunately I know there are muggers everywhere, as well as good people.” Bunty points out; the idea of a person feeling sorry for another’s opinion on her town is a bit odd… but sweet “Are you… part of the village’s welcoming committee, by any chance?”

The question makes (name) blush adorably. “Well, no; but I’ve lived in Kembleford since I was born, and I’d like newcomers to feel at ease and welcome as well. Also, your aunt has always been kind to me.”

“You know her?”

“I’ve worked as a maid at Montague Manor when I was younger; I’m starting my own business now, or at least I’m trying, but she helped me a lot for years. You want to come to my place? I live down the road, you’re welcome to have some tea, if you want, or if you need to clean that wound on your leg.”

It is sweet of her, Bunty thinks, to worry about a person she has just met; (name) seems nice… and she’s also very pretty, she thinks without actually considering the fact - for now. “I think I’ll survive, thank you.” she says; she looks at (name), and (name) looks at her, and suddenly both of them are smiling “But I wouldn’t say no to a cup of tea, if it’s not too much of a bother.” 

The other woman’s response is quick, and sincere; even impassioned. “It’s no bother at all; quite the opposite.” she says; even so, there is something shy in the way she bites her lip, as if fearing her new acquaintance won’t find her company interesting enough to justify accepting her offer “Come with me, then.” 

Side by side, the two women start down the road, the sun slowly setting down behind them and the theft of the handbag all but forgotten. 

Three days ago

Bunty Windermere, twenty-six years, one month and nineteen days old, stopped dusting one of the round tables arranged around the room’s perimeter and grinned as (name) bent over the table and kissed her nose. 

“To what do I owe this display of affection?” she inquired, and the other woman winked as she smiled, that open, sunny smile that, six months after their first meeting, still had the power to make Bunty’s heart tremble. 

“To the fact that you are so adorable I simply couldn’t resist; and as a thank you for all the help you’re giving me, obviously.”

Bunty, who like her partner was wearing old trousers and a blouse already stained with green paint after the two of them had spent an hour preparing the sign to hang above the shop’s door, admitted that sweeping the floor and unpacking boxes of supplies was not exactly her idea of a fun morning. “Which is why I expect to be paid, mind you.”

(name), who looked happier and more excited than ever even though she had never been so busy, or running on so little sleep, pretended to think about it. “That can be arranged. Do you accept payments in kind?”

“From you? I might as well…”

The two women exchanged a smile, and then (name) turned to look all around her, equally proud and nervous for her shop. The room had a circular shape, the walls painted teal, her favourite colour; comfortable stools and chairs surrounded the round tables, while the counter was still empty, ready to be filled with fruit or cream-flavoured desserts. A second large banner, that Bunty had prepared herself since she couldn’t find one she deemed appropriate in the shops, hung from the ceiling. “SWEET SERENADE ICE CREAM PARLOUR - GRAND OPENING TODAY” it said in large, bright letters. 

Bunty smiled; she reached (name) and circled her shoulders with an arm. “Are you excited?”

“Excited? I haven’t slept for a week!” (name) exclaimed; she bit her lip, suddenly unsure “What if no one comes?” 

“I’m sure they’ll all come. Yours will be the first ice cream parlour in Kembleford, and the whole village has been talking about it for weeks. I’m sure you’ll have an incredible success.”

“I hope so! I’ve worked in six restaurants or cafés since I was maybe twelve, and I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy it, but this place is my own, and an ice cream parlour…” (name) bit her lip, as if not daring to believe her lifelong dream was finally about to become reality “I can’t wait for the shop to open! I really hope people like it.”

“I’m sure they will; it’ll go splendidly, since you have devoted so much time and effort to it. You should be proud of yourself, (name).” Bunty urged her; she remained silent for a moment before adding: “I am, in case you want to know.”

For a moment they simply stared at each other, wordlessly, two practically dressed young women -they planned on changing before the grand opening; as the shop’s owner (name) was determined to look her best for her new clients, while Bunty had always taken a leaf out of her aunt’s book and never appeared in public looking less than fabulous- a little weary after a whole morning spent cleaning the ice cream parlour and preparing it for its debut, and breathless for a completely different reason. Bunty felt suddenly shy, even a little self-conscious, which was absurd, since she had not uttered a love declaration, not at all, she had simply made an observation, even though for her standards -the standards of a woman who had had many flings and special friendships, but could count the real relationships of her life on one hand… and still have a couple of fingers to spare- that was no small matters, and she felt deeply close to the woman in front of her, a woman she had been fond of since their first meeting, when (name)’s sincere concern and earnest offer for help had won her over without either of them realising. It was difficult to give a name to, to define, that relationship, that was friendship and passion and trust and affection and empathy all in one, and yet so much more, a feeling she wasn’t used to and that, truth to be told, scared her a little, but Bunty knew she could never give up on…

She remained waiting, almost holding her breath, for a reaction, and thank God (name) did not disappoint; the other woman took her hands in her own, and smiled in that special way she had, happy and beautiful. “Of course I want to know; I care about your opinion more than anyone else’s.”

“... really?”

“You know it, Bunty. You know how much I care for you… and I don’t want to brag, but I know you care about me as well.” (name) said; she grinned, her eyebrow raised “Or am I wrong?”

A moment later they were in each other’s arms, joined in a kiss so intense it made both of their heads spin; it was a sweet moment, intense beyond words, but Bunty felt stupid -worse, she felt a coward- because she knew what was between her and (name) was special, almost magical, and she would have wanted nothing better than to shout it to the whole world, but she couldn’t, and the fault was her father’s, and the threats that had remained with her for ten years’, but still…

Cowardly. Cowardly and mean. 

… still, she knew it was unfair, and that the other woman deserved better.

“Is everything all right?” (name) inquired; she broke their kiss, and placed her hand against Bunty’s cheek; she was wearing a simple ring - her greatest treasure, she had explained to the other woman, not because of the jewel’s intrinsic value but because it had belonged to her mother “Bunty, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Bunty reassured her, forcing herself to smile; she felt guilty, as if she had cruelly hurt (name), and it pained her enormously. She was searching for a way to change the subject when, to her immense relief, she realised they were not alone in the shop anymore, which gave her a pretext to let the conversation drop.

“Hello, Father.” she said, looking towards the door and missing the disappointment on (name)’s face “Hello, mrs McCarthy. You’re more than a little early.”

“Are you quite sure you have made the right decision? What I mean to say is, he seems like a proper boy, polite, but you know what sort of family he was born in…”

“As I said already, the fact that Maksym’s father has made some mistakes, and that perhaps he will make some more in the future, doesn’t matter; the boy needs a job to help support his family, while we need someone to do the cleaning at St Mary’s. And in any case, what are you so afraid of? He can’t very well steal a confessional, can he?”

On that clear, sunny morning, Father Brown and his parish secretary had decided to take the long way to reach St Mary’s church, enjoying a brief walk before checking on the new cleaner’s first day of work. Mrs McCarthy sighed, still unsure the object of their discussion was up to the task. “It is true that there are no objects of value in the church.” she admitted; she waited for the priest to stop and greet a parishioner walking past them, and then added, her voice lowered to a whisper: “But even so, I’d feel more at ease if we waited a week before hiring him on a permanent basis.”

“That sounds reasonable. I’m sure Maksym will not disappoint.”

The priest and his faithful companion went through the church’s front door, and even the fastidious (she would have said particular) mrs McCarthy had to admit the wide room, bathed in the late morning’s light, looked way better than the day before; the single aisle’s floor had been swept meticulously, and the old wooden pews, each with two prayers’ books neatly placed on the seat, looked freshly dusted. The new cleaner had also replaced the flowers in the vase next to the altar, a gift from a parishioner’s garden, and polished the brass candle-holders on the sides of the door. “Well, he clearly didn’t inherit his father’s slacking tendencies.” she admitted.

Her approval made Father Brown smile. “Good morning, Maksym.” he said then, noticing the newly-hired cleaner, walking towards them from the other end of the church, and who smiled broadly in response. Maksym Czarniecki had recently turned fifteen, and lived in Kemblefold’s Polish resettlement camp; he was a sandy-haired, tall and slender boy, serious and polite when he wasn’t too shy to express himself. Father Brown was quite fond of him, and had been happy to give him a job. “We were just saying you’re doing a very good job.”

“Good morning, Father; good morning, mrs McCarthy.” the boy replied politely, the handle of a broom grasped in his hands; like many of the Polish camp’s residents, he spoke with a heavy accent, but his English was better than most “Thank you. I have just finished sweeping the floors here, and now I’ll do the same in the sacristy. I think I’ll be done by lunch time.” 

“There is no rush, the afternoon mass is at five. Do you have everything you need?”

Maksym thought about it for a moment, more focused on the matter than many would have been in his place. “Now that you mention it I could need some more detergent for the floors; do you mind if I go check?”

Father Brown answered that they didn’t mind waiting and Maksym left, hurrying towards the sacristy, connected to the church’s main room through a small door behind the confessional. “Are you sure you want to visit (name)’s shop before the opening ceremony?” mrs McCarthy asked as she examined the church’s floor in search of remaining dust grains “It is not exactly along the way home.”

“Of course. (name) has worked so much to make her dream of opening an ice cream parlour come true, and I think she needs all the support she can get; I want to wish her good luck.” 

“You’re only saying that because you hope she’ll give you some extra ice cream.”

The priest simply smiled in response, without denying; gluttony was a deadly sin, but he was confident a cup of chocolate and lemon ice cream wouldn’t lead him to perdition. 

Mrs McCarthy, whose floor inspection had yielded satisfactory results, hesitated for a moment before changing the subject… to one she didn’t feel quite comfortable discussing. 

“You know that after Bunty moved here in Kembleford she and (name) have become… great friends.” she started in the end; Father Brown, who knew her well enough to perceive where his parish’s secretary was getting at, pretended not to.

“Of course, they have been joined at the hip since they first met; it’s almost impossible to meet one of them without the other.”

“Exactly, about that…”

Mrs McCarthy looked quickly all around herself, as if fearing the walls or the wooden pews could listen… and chide her for discussing such scandalous matters; her voice dropped even lower. “You know as well as I do that for years there have been rumours in the village about (name)’s… inclinations.” she explained “And we know that Bunty is not exactly shy when… relationships are concerned. Besides, either she has finally started making her own bed after getting up, or in the last few weeks she has started sleeping out regularly… including last night.”

All of a sudden, Father Brown looked very focused on a damp spot on the nearest wall. 

“So I was wondering… if there was something between them; something that went beyond friendship. If they were… I mean, together. What do you think?”

“I think it is very nice that two young, adult, unmarried women, one of whom knew no one when she moved here in the village and the other who lost her only family when she was little more than a child, have become close and able to find companionship and comfort in each other. Don’t you agree?”

“Well, yes, of course.” mrs McCarthy admitted, impatient; the truth was, she was fond of both (name) and Bunty, even though she didn’t quite know what to make of their relationship. If only Father Brown would meet her halfway, instead of playing dumb! “They are both good girls, that’s for sure, but…”  

“I found it!” Maksym announced, joining the two once more and inadvertently putting an end to their conversation; part of mrs McCarthy was vaguely annoyed, but the other was almost thankful “Sorry if I kept you waiting, Father, I have two bottles of floor detergent, it will be enough for two weeks at least.”

“That is good to hear. Tell me, Maksym, do you know a woman named (full name)?” Father Brown inquired, who had just gotten an idea. 

“Of course, she’s that lady who lives near the greengrocer; sometimes I meet her on my way to school.”

“Well, perhaps you know already, but in the afternoon there will be the opening of (name)’s new ice cream parlour. Why don’t you come? It should be fun.”

Maksym looked interested, even thrilled, for a moment, but then his expression changed to one of regret, and he said he’d better not come. “It’s not because I don’t like ice cream.” he explained when Father Brown asked him “I do, even though I have only eaten it once. It’s just… Well, at the moment I have no money, so…”

Father Brown kindly pointed out that he wouldn’t need to pay, since for the opening the ice cream would be offered for free, in order to attract the attention of potential clients. “So you can simply go and ask for a cone the flavour you prefer.”

“Yes, but… won’t miss (name) mind that I scrounge off her? We at the camp don’t have much, I doubt we’ll be able to buy ice cream from her.”

“I’m sure (name) won’t mind,” mrs McCarthy reassured him; she wasn’t sure yet Father Brown had made the right decision hiring a person of not proven experience to take care of the church’s cleaning, but she couldn’t help appreciating the boy’s integrity “And if you want to be sure of it, you can come with us and ask her… and then return here to finish cleaning up.” 

Maksym, happy and with his conscience clear, accepted; as the boy went to put away his broom, Father Brown smiled gratefully at his parish secretary, who simply smiled in return. A minute later, the trio was leaving St Mary’s and, walking unhurriedly in the early spring’s warmth, reached the still un-inaugurated ice cream parlour. The small building, not far from Kemblefold’s main square, had hosted a barbershop until the previous year, and when the owner had retired (name) had taken the opportunity to buy it for a reasonable sum and repurpose it. 

As they entered, Maksym looked around, openly curious. “This is a nice place; I had never been in an ice cream shop.” he mentioned, while Father Brown and mrs McCarthy’s eyes immediately darted to (name) and Bunty, standing in the middle of the room… holding each other in an embrace, just a little too tight to be purely friendly.

They both instantly decided to pretend nothing happened… and they weren’t the only ones.

“Hello, Father.” Bunty said, smiling, a bit forcefully, at both; she was still wearing the same clothes as the previous evening and she was sure both the priest and his parish secretary had noticed “Hello, mrs McCarthy. You’re more than a little early.”

“We thought we would come to see how you are managing, and wish (name) good luck for her big day.” Father Brown explained, earning a large, grateful smile from the shop’s owner “And this is Maksym, our new cleaner… he had a question for you, (name).”

Clearly shy but politely, the boy explained his situation, and (name) told him he had no reason to worry. “This afternoon all residents of Kembleford will be my guests, and the more people will come, the happier I will be.” she reassured him; she had never spoken to Maksym before, since she had no friends at the Polish camp and the boy seemed to mainly hang around people his age, but he looked polite and well-mannered, and she appreciated his worrying about exploiting her “I’d really like you to come, and your friends from the camp as well.”

Maksym beamed at her, as if (name) had offered him a thousand pounds as a present. “Amazing! I’ll definitely come, miss (last name).”

(name) smiled, touched by his enthusiasm; no one better than her knew how a small treat, even a cheap ice cream, could make a person feel better, and offer a moment of joy even in the darkest of times. Her own parents had used to bring her to eat an ice cream at a café out of Kembleford every sunday after mass; she missed them more than the tasty dessert, of course, but she liked to think opening her own shop also meant honouring their memory.

“You’re more than welcome, precious. And you will come, will you, Father? It’d mean a lot if you wanted to bless the shop as well.”

Father Brown answered that he would be happy to. 

“What about you, mrs McCarthy?” Bunty inquired with a smile; she was still holding (name)’s arm under hers “Fancy an ice cream come?”

“I wouldn’t know; actually I had decided to start dieting…”

“Oh, come on; you don’t need to lose weight.” (name) pointed out courteously “And fruity ice creams are lower in fat than creamy ones, so if you get one of those you will be safe.” Flattered by the compliment, mrs McCarthy replied that maybe she could indulge in a little treat, as long as it was just a small cup.

“Is there anything you need, (name)?”

“I think I’m all set, Father. The suppliers should be here in half an hour, and thanks to Bunty I am almost done with cleaning the place.”

“All right, then; I can’t wait to taste that dark chocolate you told me so much about.”

(name) promised she would save him a cup, and a moment later the shop’s door opened once more. Inspector Mallory, who wore a grey raincoat, marched in, sergeant Goodfellow following suit.

“Hello, inspector.” (name) greeted him; she didn’t particularly like the head of the local police and was pretty sure she was unloved in return, but in her days as a waitress and maid she had had her share of unpleasant clients and guests, and was used to put on a good face and treat politely people who didn’t deserve it “Hello, sergeant. If you’re here for the opening I’m afraid you’re a few hours early.”

“I’m not here to eat an ice cream.” the inspector answered brusquely, before turning his eyes to Father Brown “Why are you here, Padre?”

“I just came to wish (name) good luck for the opening of her shop.” the priest answered, imperturbable “What about you? What brings you here?”

“My job, obviously; and I probably shouldn’t be surprised to find you there, since you are in the habit of getting involved in matters that don’t concern you. Although this time you have missed the crime scene; starting to slacken, are you?”

Before any of those present could ask the meaning of those words, Mallory had Goodfellow pass him the handcuffs the sergeant carried at his belt… and then, to the shock of all, stood in front of Bunty to put them on her wrists. “Penelope Windermere, I’m arresting you for the murder of Tadeusz Chodakievicz.”

[hyenafu]

Does Angelic have its own variant of sign language? Or would deaf Angels use Sign Lingo?

There is no Sign Angelic. They just use Sign Lingo.

[sooptea]

I would like to point out that censoring tags like this, "pet play vs pet p!ay" "unalive" etc was never about protecting the audience. It is a result of tiktok and other social medias dinging those videos as inappropriate so the censoring came about to make those videos still visible.

If it was about protecting the audience then it would be better censored, people say F****t instead of Faggot when they're trying to censor for the audience. They don't say F4ggot or Fagg0t or F4gg0+ , those are all so they can still have the word visible in their post.

The forced self censoring of tiktok really highlights this when the audios use the original words WITHOUT any censorship (no beeps or silence or other word fillers) but the text has been altered. This only makes it censored to HoH/Deaf individuals who need the subtitles and basically says that they're the only ones who can't handle the words we are censoring.

If you're wanting to talk about Child Sex Abuse and Pedophiles but you're worried about CSA survivors being triggered by the conversation, you start out with warnings in the beginning. If someone sees your warnings (Content Warning/CW or Trigger Warning/TW) and decided to keep reading that was THEIR decision and you have no reason to censor pedophile as p3dophile. P3dophile does nobody any help in this scenario.

It's why censoring on AO3 is nonsense, it isn't necessary and isn't helping anyone. If you don't think you can type the words then why are you even writing it. Unalive is NONSENSE to anyone not familiar with tiktok lingo, saying Unalive instead of Suicide or Murder or familicide doesn't benefit the conversation it only pleases advertisers and investors.

You shouldn't be catering yourself to corporations like this, language changes and adapts but giving in to the system like this is only going to cause further problems later on. A platform can decide that it doesn't want conversations about these topics but it's also a right for the users to decide it'll go SOMEWHERE ELSE THAT ALLOWS THOSE CONVERSATIONS TO HAPPEN.

I just saw a story on AO3 tagged "pet p!ay"

TIK TOK MUST BE STOPPED BEFORE IT DESTROYS LANGUAGE

[cagemasterfantasy]

The Fiend Ranking (5e)

Guide

1=useless

2=often useful

3=sometimes useful

4=perfect

Patron Spells

Level 1 Burning Hands and Command 4 Burning Hands is a decent AOE especially at low levels and since Warlocks get armor and more hp than Sorcerers and Wizards you can survive being close enough to melee to use it however I wouldn’t use it beyond very low levels. You’ll get more total damage out of Hex or other spell options despite Burning Hands scaling. Command is a great control/debuff effect and scales really well with your spell slots

Level 3 Blindness/Deafness and Scorching Ray 3 Blindness/Deafness is a powerful debuff but allowing repeated saves can make it unreliable. Scorching Ray is a bit redundant with Eldritch Blast but it scales very well and benefits from the same tactics

Level 5 Fireball and Stinking Cloud 3 a good AOE blast and a good area control effect. Fireball remains the best instantaneous AOE damage spell at every spell level until around spell level 8 and while Warlock can’t cast Fireball past 5th level it still remains a perfect go-to AOE blast option. However remember that you will often get better results out of spells with ongoing effects like Hunger of Hadar and with so few spell slots you need to squeeze as much out of them as you can. Stinking Cloud is an ongoing AOE save-or-suck effect but creatures within the area are Heavily Obscured so it’s hard to attack them. Hunger of Hadar is likely a better choice in most cases

Level 7 Fire Shield and Wall of Fire 3  Fire Shield is fine for gish builds, but if you’re going for a Warlock gish you’re probably going to play a Hexblade. Fire Shield also seems redundant with Armor of Agathys which notably lasts longer provides temporary hit points deals more damage to attackers and scales with spell level. Wall of Fire is one of the best area control spells in the game and with the right invocations you can push and pull enemies through it to repeatedly capitalize on the guaranteed damage dealt when a creature passes through the wall

Level 9 Flame Strike and Hallow 1 Flame Strike is Fireball but a smaller AOE and worse damage. Sure some of the damage is Radiant but if damage resistance is a problem you should be using Eldritch Blast since nearly nothing resists Force damage. Hallow is very situational

Dark One's Blessing 4 this makes Fiendish Vigor considerably less important. It also makes it important that you occasionally pick off weak foes to ensure that your temporary hit points are up before you focus on more important foes. RAW (Rules As Written for those who don't know tabletop lingo) the creature just needs to be hostile so a permissive DM might allow you carry around a bag of angry rats and kill one whenever you need temporary hit points

Dark One's Own Luck 4 adds an average of 5 to your roll which is mathematically much betterthan what you get from Advantage (Advantage is worth slightly more than +3). Save this for crucial saving throws or if you’re desperate need to escape a grapple but can’t teleport or something

Fiendish Resilience 4 this doesn’t specify restrictions on the damage type so if you want to do Slashing for a while then switch to Radiant you can do it. This is one of very few ways to get resistance to Force damage but you still want to use this for common damage types like Fire Poison and Slashing

Hurl Through Hell 3 Only works once per day but 10d10 damage is pretty great on top of whatever your attack was (let’s be honest: it was Eldritch Blast). The creature is also removed from the game until the end of your NEXT turn allowing you to temporarily banish the creature and potentially place hazards in and around its space such as Hunger of Hadar Wall of Fire or the rest of your party.

Final Ranking 4 straightforward and effective Fiend offers mostly offensive options which improve Warlock’s ability to kill stuff but also offers some extremely potent defensive abilities. Fiend is a blaster first and foremost and is heavily dependent on Fire damage so consider taking the Elemental Adept feat

[ninelivesastrology]

Someone said that P25 is not recent and it goes back to Reagan era, even farther if you're thinking of foundations, it has taken decades of organization to get to this point. The truth is people only care when it's at their doorstep, but this has been in our backyards for years and they're just looking out the wrong window. And that's what bothers me.

I realized that this country didn't care about its citizens when a bunch of white children were slain by an asshole and no legislation was passed to ban guns. I have to be specific because there's been so many mass shootings, but I'm definitely referring to Sandy Hook in 2012 and even then, that's a LATE realization. Thousands of shootings since.

There's something about the dehumanization of children and people that definitely correlates to the dehumanization of children and people in other countries. It's the desensitization, like nobody cares when it happens here, why should anybody care when it happens here? Rhetorical, rhetorical.

That's what I mean, the violence been in our backyards regardless of who's in power, but choosing an election year to start panicking is poor timing. When dehumanized people pointed out that assholes were organizing and it was resulting in countless events of DT, it fell on deaf ears. Then 1.6 happens and that's blatant DT, people ended up on No Fly lists, that's DT.

P25 just seems like a manifesto. And all the while, we have a lot of incel lingo becoming normalized that correlates to dehumanization, only giving them power in their jilted beliefs. But nobody cares until the manifesto is being mailed out in their neighborhoods. All the while, the beliefs get passed along until they become movements and I'm not saying it started there, I'm just saying there was a push. Referring to women as "foids" and then we're real life having our rights taken away, but even those beliefs started somewhere in time and it's not recent. Not recent at all.

Everything's an echo chamber until it's not.

And this isn't "I told you so," it's just tired venting.

People hate victims... And this system was built on the graves and backs of victims... It has made countless victims since, both on soil and off soil... And the problem is people hate victims more than they hate the system that victimizes people...

And I'm expected to believe their activism is driven by caring about stopping victimization and not by their repulsion of becoming what they hate in efforts to keep themselves separate from disenfranchised people.

The activism looks like, "Could never be me."