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misserabella · 2 years ago

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bad idea

+18 eddie munson x fem! reader

synopsis; whatever you do… don’t you ever take an aphrodisiac with your best friend (who you secretly love), or do… We all have good bad ideas.

REMINDER: english is not my mother language so i apologize if there are some mistakes <3 ! either ways, i hope y’all like it<3

REPOSTS AND COMMENTS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED!<3

cw; no use of y/n, use of pet names (angel, sweetheart, gorgeous, baby…) cursing, dirty talk, daddy kink, aphrodisiac (as a drug and drug mentions!), teasing, throat/mouth fucking (w fingers too <3), cum eating, breeding kink, dacryphilia (kinda??), a lil’ tiny bit of perv! eddie, smut, p in v sex, cock warming, overstimulation, squirting, choking, non protected sex (GUYS STDS ARE REAL, WRAP THE DONG UP), cream pie, finger fucking, oral sex (f and m receiving), hair pulling, praising, degradation, multiple orgasms… MINORS DNI!!!

Please, under no circumstances, repost my work on any other sites. I do not consent to anyone taking my work and posting it as their own.

a/n; THANKS FOR THE 1K FOLLOWERS, Y’ALL MADE ME SO HAPPY IT’s INSANE

this was so fun to make! hope you all love it!<333

‘You need to open up wider, sweetheart.’

Eddie was really stupid. You loved him, and he has been your best friend your whole life. But he was stupid. The biggest idiot in the world… But if he was the biggest stupid in the world then you were the second.

When Eddie started to sell weed you were scared at first for him in case Hopper ever caught him, but he never did and never will. Eddie was cautious. Knew what he was doing and how to do it. And he did it great. He was sly, and had a lot of clients. Clients that he did everything to try and please, so much that he tried every new type of drug that fell into his hands to make sure he was giving no shit. He took pride on his quality.

And you swore to try every and each of one of them. You had your good trips and bad trips. Took care of each other and always stood safe. You knew your limits. Or that’s what you thought.

‘Cause you should have known that this was a really bad idea. You knew that it was dangerous, and crossed a line a little… sensitive. But once again you were stupid. Really stupid. And you liked your best friend too much to think straight.

“You want me to take an aphrodisiac…, with you.” you tried and clarify as Eddie stood there, all wide eyed and smiley with two pink little pills on his hand.

“Yeah.” he nodded.

“…” “Okay.” you shrugged, not thinking twice to on swallowing the pill along with him.

If only you knew what of a great mistake that was…

Or maybe not.

You were horny, so horny that you couldn’t stop your thighs from pressing against each other, trying hard for your best friend, which stood seated on his bed next to you, to not notice. You were listening to some music, waiting for the drug to take effect. It was fast. Too fast.

Your whole skin grew on goosebumps, your cheeks flushing and body running hot, so hot you were melting. You tried not to. Not to think about how nice he looked, the way he licked his lips every few seconds as if his mouth were dry. You tried not to stare too much at him, not to breath too hard or you’ll inhale his perfume, which seemed to be everywhere. And you surely tried to not let your mind get filled with scenarios in which your best friend shouldn’t be participating with you. But it was no luck, you failed the very moment you noticed the bulge that had grown under the sweats that he wore to stay comfy on his house.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Eddie was suffering. His eyes away from you as best as he could. He couldn’t stop too much to stare at your bare legs and plushy thighs or he’ll for sure burst on his pants like a complete 13 year old virgin who just found out what porn was. And your tits… God, he always tried and avoid thinking about your nipples pressing against his tee-shirts —which you borrowed every day—, and the way you just casually stopped wearing bras around him. But now was impossible, since you were wearing his Hell Fire shirt and he could see just how erect your nipples were through the white of it. He wanted to lick them, wanted to suck on them so bad, kiss your chest and leave you full of marks, fuck his cock in between your tits and paint them on his cum…

Shit. Shit. Shit.

His dick was incredibly hard, leaking on his thigh and twitching in need of attention. His breath hitched when he tried and reposition it inside his pants, biting down on his lip to not let out a groan due to the pressure.

You were seating one next to another, shoulders almost brushing, hands almost touching. And you needed to touch him so bad… So bad, oh god.

You couldn’t stop thinking about what he had told you about his sexual encounters. About what he had found he liked the most.

It was no big deal. You and Eddie didn’t keep secrets from one another, and somehow along the way, the theme had just… came up. So you had talked about it. A lot. And it was no big deal, ‘was’, or so you tried to convince yourself. But now… Now it was a big deal.

You couldn’t stop wondering if he would treat you as he treated all of those other girls. If he would choke you, spank you, praise you… You wondered what position would make you feel him the best. How far would his dick go down your throat? You would love to suck his dick. You wanted to call him daddy too. Knowing that he would probably fuck you harder, like he once told you he had fucked a girl after it.

You needed to know, needed to know how he would eat you out. Needed to know how big he was.

Shit.

You were breathing heavily, your eyes on the veins of his arms and hands, those hands that you’ve dreamed with so many times, those fingers that you had pretended and were the ones fucking your cunt when you touched yourself.

The tension inside the room could be cut with a knife. And you were the only ones in the trailer since Wayne was working a double shift.

You couldn’t look at each other. Or at least you did as if you hadn’t caught the other staring… ‘Cause Eddie’s mind was getting too fuzzy and his attempts to stop staring at you slowly started to be less and less effective. He just couldn’t get the image of fucking you right there and then, with his tee-shirt on, and fill you up with his cum over and over again until you couldn’t stop crying due to how full you felt. He couldn’t stop thinking about playing with that little button that he for sure knew would make you scream, the tightness and wetness of your pussy…

God, he shouldn’t be feeling this way about his best friend, the one that he had grown up with… But he did, and always had.

“It’s…” he jolted when your voice suddenly filled the room, taking him by surprise. “It’s good.” you awkwardly smiled, still not looking at him.

It was good as fuck. So good that it had you soaking through your short jeans.

“Yeah…” he breathed out, feeling his cock stir just by hearing your voice on his pants as he scoffed and repositioned himself on the bed. He wanted to know how good you would sound moaning his name.

You gasped when your skin made contact, both your hands brushing the slightest, but still enough to make your skin grow on goosebumps.

Eddie looked at you and then at your hands. His cheeks were flushed, and his lips looked all red and swollen, as he hadn’t stopped biting on them.

You thought he would move away then, but surprisingly enough he made your hands brush again, getting the same reaction out of you.

You were shivering when he turned your hand on his own. You stared at him with furrowed eyebrows, confused. But he simply looked into your eyes and started caressing your palm. Slowly, teasingly…

He knew what he was doing. You could see it in his eyes. In the little smirk that was trying to appear on his lips.

Your breath hitched, wherever his fingertips touched felt like your skin was mixing up with his.

You only could look into his eyes, into his stupidly beautiful dark brown eyes which pupils were blown.

You didn’t say anything, you couldn’t. Your throat was tied in knots and your stomach was burning with suck need that was making you feel dizzy. Maybe that’s why you did what you did, but before you knew it you were taking his teasing hand and slowly raising it up to your lips.

Eddie’s breathing was heavy when your lips parted and you nipped on his fingertips, your cheeks hollowing around two of his fingers when you pushed them inside your mouth. You never stopped staring at him as your tongue started to swirl his fingers, teasing, inviting…

He groaned, and your pussy clenched around nothing, gagging when he suddenly thrusted his fingers deeper inside your mouth. “Uh-uh…” he clicked his tongue. “You need to open up wider, sweetheart.” you did as he told you, this time feeling his fingers down your throat. “That’s it, good girl.” his praise was low, his voice making you shiver and moan around his fingers. He smirked when you took his wrist to push his hand closer, his fingers deeper. You needed more. You needed him to fuck your mouth, use your throat and make you gag all around him. “Oh, well isn’t that pathetic… Look at you. Why so needy, hm?” you whimpered, and his dick twitched so hard he had to breath in the best he could. Shit, you looked so pretty. “My girl just needed something to suck on, isn’t that right? Your mouth was feeling empty, huh?” he inquired and you nodded, your teary eyes staring into his own. He wanted to make you cry. On your mind his words playing over and over again. ‘My girl, my girl, my girl, my girl…’ “Poor baby, having such a hard time…” he shook his head. “Maybe I should help you, what do you think, hm?” his heart skipped a beat when you pushed his fingers out of your mouth, still connected by a string of spit that he so badly wanted to lick.

“Please, Eddie, please, please, please…” you begged, and even if you didn’t ‘knew’, you knew you were in too deep now. Your brain was completely disconnected, you couldn’t think straight, the only thing in your mind being your oh so pretty best friend, and his lips, and his eyes, and his…

You gulped when he smirked, his hand guiding yours towards his crotch, his dick reacting to your touch with a tug that you felt through the sweats. He was hard, so hard your mouth was watering.

“Go ahead, sweetheart.” he said, and you had never been so fast in your life at tugging someone else’s pants down. The boxers disappeared just as fast, and your eyes widened when his cock slapped his stomach when it was finally freed. It was so big…, so big that you couldn’t stop the moan that left your lips, making Eddie groan. His tip was the most beautiful pink you have ever seen, fully leaking and all pearly with his pre-cum. He was long, and a couple of veins popped on his shaft. You could only imagine how good it will feel dragging up and down your walls. You were salivating, with your knees tucked below your butt for him, kneeling on the bed. “Here, let me help you, baby.” he said before taking your hair in one of his hands, collecting all of it in some kind of a ponytail that would allow him to fuck your throat harder and see those beautiful eyes of yours tear up as you took him in your mouth. He had been dreaming about this moment since he could remember, and he sure as hell was going to fully enjoy it. He was going to take it all in.

He groaned when your lips took his head, your tongue tasting the musk and saltiness of the beads on the slit, which made you hum. Eddie had to try really hard to not cum right there and then, his balls so full it was painful.

“There you go.” he sighed, watching as you slowly started to fuck his cock into your mouth.

You could almost cry of happiness and relief. He felt so heavy on your mouth, so warm and so big… You only wanted to choke on it, wanted him to leave your throat sore and swollen from thrusting on it. You didn’t care, you just needed it, even if that made you unable to talk tomorrow morning.

“So greedy…” he chucked when you took too much of him and gagged, pulling yourself off of him to take a deep breath, your hand on your base, which pooled with your spit. “I know what you want.” you let out a little shriek when he suddenly pulled at your hair towards his cock, making you take him once again in your mouth, fucking your throat. “Been wanting me to fuck this tight throat of yours, huh? Isn’t that right, doll?” he panted when your nails dug on the flesh of his thighs, your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to contain your gagging and breath through your nose. “Been wanting me to use you like a simple little toy, hm? Fuck your mouth full of my cum.” you moaned, making him do it as well at the feeling. “Shit. You look so pretty taking me so good, choking on my cock and letting me use you like a fucking slut. Fuck, been thinking about you sucking my cock for years.”

Eddie moaned when one of your hands took his balls and rolled them in between your fingers. They were heavy and full for you, ready to stuff you up with his cum and get you all fucked out and pretty for him.

“Yeah, that’s it. Good girl, shit, you’re gonna make me cum so hard…” he groaned, struggling to maintain his eyes open, getting too lost on the squelching of your mouth, on the feeling of your tongue and throat, of your hands on his balls, on the tears on your eyes and the whimpers and moans that you were letting out only for him to hear. “Fuck.” he was close. He could feel it, the drug making him impossible for him to hold it much more due to how turned on and sensitive he was. “I’m gonna cum.” he moaned, and before you knew it, he was filling your throat with his white, heavy and creamy seed. You sighed in pleasure, milking him with your mouth as he rode out his orgasm with a groan.

He let go of your hair, and you let his dick fall out of your mouth with a pop, not before having cleaned his head with your tongue and having swallowed his seed just like the good girl he knew you were.

“Fuck.” he groaned before he harshly pulled you in, crashing your lips together in a searing kiss that had you moaning in his mouth and left your legs shaking.

Your hands found his hair as he pushed his tongue inside your mouth, humming when he tasted himself in it. He needed to drink you up, needed you to ride his face and leave him tasting of you, needed you to leave his face all soaked with your juices.

“Now it’s my turn.” he said, and you didn’t argue when he popped the bottom of your shot jeans open. “God, angel.” he groaned when he saw the little lace pink panties that you were wearing, which now stood completely soaked with your slick. “Is this for me?” you moaned when his fingers touched you over the lace, pushing the slightest between your wet and warm folds. You nodded, whimpering a ‘yes’, feeling blissed by his touch. It was everything you had ever dreamed of. Like biting the apple of Eden under the eye of god, like drinking water after days in the sun, like breathing after almost drowning in the sea… Eddie was everything you had dreamed of. Everything you wanted. Everything you needed. “So good for me…” you cried out when he pushed you against the sheets, his mouth latching at your thighs to leave marks that you’d proudly wear tomorrow with your oh so short skirts and dresses. “Why don’t you pull your panties off for me and let me take a look, hm?” you nodded, using your legs to raise your hips and pull your underwear down your thighs. Eddie took care of it, once they were completely off, throwing somewhere on the room’s floor, still taking a mental note to make sure to steal them before you could notice.

You were burning up and dying at the same time.

It was like his touch didn’t exist but filled your senses altogether.

“Oh god.”

Just the simple act of touching, of him kissing you, holding you… Was just so intimate that your bones were breaking in half. It hurt, but hurt so good .

You felt everything ten times stronger.

And you swore your heart was about to stop when his hand disappeared in between your legs. His touch felt like freezing, but burning at the same time.

“Fuck, angel.” he groaned and you moaned at the sleek that pooled between your tights. You were soaked. You could feel it flowing down your lips to the sheets. “So wet…” Eddie‘s fingers shone with your arousal, which he tasted when he inserted his fingers in his mouth, moaning at the taste. “So sweet…”

Suddenly his head was now inches away from your heat, and you screamed at the first drag of his tongue, lapping at your slick with his eyes closed in pleasure, separating your lips —which hardly stood connected with strings of your arousal— and circling your clit. You could see stars. Even if you had your eyes closed.

“Eddie.” you cried out as he ate you out like a starved animal, devouring you, tasting you as if you were his last meal.

He groaned when your fingers laced in his curls, tugging on them due to the pleasure.

He hummed when your hips rocked against his face when his nose bumped against your clit, his tongue harshly pushing against your hole. “Please…” you didn’t know what you were begging for, but he seemed to understand. He always did.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when he plunged two of his fingers on your warm and wet pussy. You couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help the way your grip tightened on his curls, the way your hips rose or the word that fell of your lips in a needy moan.

“Daddy.”

And then he suddenly stopped. He stopped his thrusting, his kisses… Everything stopped. And your gut clenched in need.

“What did you just call me?” he said below a whisper, his dark onyx eyes heavy on you, so heavy you felt crushed.

Your cheeks heat up, but even if you had heard him, you couldn’t listen. “No!” You whimpered, one of your hands reaching to circle his wrists in hopes that he would touch you again, that he would help you subside your thirst for him once again. “Please don’t stop, please!” you were at the verge of tears, you felt so close to cumming, so close that you swore it physically pained you. You needed him, needed him so bad your bones shivered and your whole body trembled.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he pouted, mocking you, although you didn’t care since he was back to curling his fingers inside of you and making pants fell from your lips. “You’re about to cum?” but again, he had stopped, and again, you found yourself pleading him. “If you want to cum, then you’d have to say it.” you knew what he was referring to, but you still found yourself so embarrassed that you could bring yourself to say it. “Come on sweetheart, use that pretty mouth of yours to call me ‘daddy’ again, would you?” your whole body flushed at his smirk, your cheeks so red and hot that you could feel them burning.

But again, even though you were embarrassed to the marrow, it only took a single curl of his fingers to make you dissolve on his hands. “Daddy, please, daddy…” you whimpered, and he smiled.

“That’s my good girl.” you moaned, probably due to his praising, or probably to the fact that his lips were back on your clit, sucking on it ‘till your thighs were shaking on the sides of his face. “Daddy’s good girl.”

You clenched around his fingers with a moan so high that you swore the whole trailer park had heard you as the tension on your lower stomach finally snapped, your pussy gushing on his mouth and fingers, slick that he made sure to lap at to as he helped you ride out your orgasm.

You could feel tears swelling in your eyes at the overstimulation. It was too much, but at the same time not enough.

You needed him, needed his cock, his body, his mouth…

“Eddie, please…” you begged for him with a new tug and he looked at you, his chin and lips completely bathed in you. “Please it’s not enough…” you whimpered. “Please, daddy…”

He groaned, ‘cause he felt the exact same way than you, he could eat you out day and night, he loved it, from your taste to the little sweet sounds that you let out… But he couldn’t stop thinking about stuffing you full, filling you up until he could see his dick bulging in your lower stomach, fuck you so raw and rough that you couldn’t stop screaming, leaving you voiceless the next morning. He wanted to make you cry.

“Fuck.” he was quick to pull his boxers down and get on top of you. “I know baby, I know…” you whimpered when he took place in between your legs, the head of his huge cock gliding through your folds in ease, circling your clit, pushing against your entrance… “Gonna let me fuck you raw, sweetheart? Let me cum inside and fill you up? Get you all round and pretty for me?” you moaned, sensing your whole body shake. You shook your head ‘yes’, crying out a ‘yes please daddy, pleasepleaseplease’ and he almost could cum right there and then.

You let out a quiet scream when he got balls deep inside you in a quick and harsh thrust. You went breathless. He stretched you out like no one would ever do, fill you to the brim, his head abusing your g spot with every new snap of his hips.

“I’m sorry baby.” he moaned as he moved ‘till only the tip stood inside. “I don’t think I’m gonna be able to control myself. I need to fuck you so bad…” you nails dug on his back when he thrusted in again.

“EddieEddieEddieEddie…” you cried out over and over again, the squelching sound of his dick fucking into your wet hole making you so horny that you couldn’t stop the need to move your hips against his, what made him groan and grip your hips to do it for you, but harder. Much much harder. “Shit!” your voice cracked. He rose you up as if you were as light as a feather, making you sit on his cock.

You choked on just how deep it got, it caressed places so deep within you that made breathing harder.

“That’s right baby, fuck, moan for me, you sound so sweet when your voice breaks with every scream.” your jaw was slack, lips parted as he rose you up and down his dick, using you like he could use a toy. You couldn’t stop moaning, moans that came out broken due to how hard he was fucking you and how high and loud your voice was.

Tears were falling from your cheeks with every new thrust, you felt so overstimulated by the drug that it was too much. Too much, but your body desired so much more.

You wanted Eddie to break you, fuck you brainless, make you sob…

The grip on your throat silenced your screams as he choked you, his tongue licking the tears out of your face just to later on lick into your mouth. Spit dribbled out of your lips and painted your chest due to how messy it was. You were a babbling mess. ‘Daddy, daddy, ah, Eddie, shit, ah…’

Eddie groaned and moaned, his eyebrows furrowing when your walls started to clench around him. “Are you gonna come for me, princess? Gonna come on my cock? Gonna come on daddy’s cock?” you nodded, your breathing ragged as you whimpered slurred ‘yes, yes, yes…’. Your g spot was being abused with every new jump, your clit, being caressed by two of his fingers. Your nails dug on his shoulders, your head falling backwards and a scream leaving your lips. You rode him in need of a release and he knew that, his lips on your neck, sucking bruises that made you lose your mind. “Then come.” your whole body seemed to die and come back to life then, your high hitting you so hard your ears rung and your sight went white. Eddie moaned when he felt it, the warmth of your cum surrounding his dick, painting his cock in white, and he almost came when he watched it pool at the base of his cock like a white ring.

He had you back on your back, taking your legs and pushing them agains your chest, fucking into you so hard that hit your cervix over and over again.

You though that your high would go down, but instead, you found yourself screaming when it only seemed to go higher and higher.

“Eddie, I’m gonna, I’m gonna…” you found yourself coming again, right after your first.

“Oh shit sweetheart, did you just came twice?” you where digging your nails on his biceps as tears rolled down your cheeks and onto the pillow, soaking the sheets. You were letting out cracked and short moans that got cut with every thrust of his. “Fuck, you drive me insane.”

And yet you felt like you were gonna die.

“Eddie, stop, stop…” you cried out due to the overstimulation, still feeling your body scream for more, your ‘o’ slurred and dragged. “Something’s gonna—“

Before you could finish your sentence, your back was arching and your pushy gushing as it’s walls fluttered around Eddie’s cock, which now stood soaked with your squirting.

“Fuck.” he moaned when he saw it, his hips snapping harder and harder against you, following the amazing feeling for your tight, warm cunt. You kept squirting over and over again as Eddie praised and teased you under his breath. “Are you feeling good, princess? Look at you, all messed up on my dick. So pretty soaking my sheets.”

He was close, so fucking close that moans started to fall from his lips, his hips stuttering as his high reached him. “Gonna fill you real nice, gorgeous. Gonna leave you so full your pussy’s gonna be dripping. Gonna look so pretty when I fuck it back into you.”

And with a final grunt he came, his load creamy, hot and heavy inside you. You moaned at the feeling, pushing him deeper inside you. You needed him deeper. He let go of your legs, which fell around him, trembling and twitching, as he fell on top of you, his lips on your neck.

He stood there for a couple of minutes, just kissing you, hugging you. But you could feel it, you could still fell the burning feeling that the drug had left you with, feel his dick growing inside of you. When you least expected it, he had turned you over, pushing your body against the duvet and starting to fuck into you once again.

“Sorry angel, just one more.” you couldn’t say no, not when he was fucking you so good and nice, not when you needed him so bad you felt like drowning.

Your nails dug in the bed sheets, your moans and screams being muffled by his pillow, which was getting wet with your drooling and new tears.

“Good girl, taking me so good… Pussy so tight and wet for me, sucking me in so nice…” you screamed when one of his hands sneaked in between your legs and under your stomach to start circling your clit, in just a mere seconds slowly starting to build another orgasm, as strong as the rest. “Can feel you clenching, sweetheart. Are you gonna come again? Gonna soak my sheets for me once more?” before you could even answer, you were falling apart, droplets falling down your tights. “Fuck.”

This time it only took a couple more hard and deep thrusts for Eddie to cum, overstimulated by the recent orgasm and the incredible feeling of your own.

You whimpered, feeling so full your stomach would bulge with his cum.

You felt boneless when he slowly and softly took you with him to your side, cuddling you with his cock still buried deep into your full cunt. You sighed at the feeling, so drunk on him, so in love with the soft kisses that he left on your shoulders, the sweet words that he whispered in your ear. ‘You did so good for me, angel.’ ‘You’re so beautiful, so, so beautiful sweetheart.’ ‘Such a good girl for me…’

“Gonna let me keep it inside you all night like the good girl you are, huh? Gonna let me fuck you up all pretty tomorrow morning too, isn’t that right baby?” you nodded, letting out a little whimper that made him hum.

Eddie was stupid, and you were stupid too. And you two were stupidly in love with each other.

Stupid, isn’t it?

3K notes · View notes

deandoesthingstome · 1 year ago

Text

Gothic Fantasy

Pairing: Vampire!August x Reader

Summary: Are you in over your head, little girl?

Word Count: 6.1K

Warnings: 18+, NO MINORS, exhibitionism, oral sex (m and f receiving), spanking, p in v (doggy style), anal toy/anal sex, dom!August, Sir and princess, monster fucking (which involves at least one bite, right?).

Fantasy Hotel Masterlist

You took your time with a little extra research, but the ancient myth vibe of the story you created out of your experience with Sy was a hit and your werewolf!boyfriend tale had been picking up steam thanks to the upcoming holiday. Subscriptions were rolling in which left you both excited and anxious.

sendmeanangel: i have enough to cover at least two more stays even if nothing more comes in at this point MNstrluvr: how could nothing more come in? sendmeanangel: look, i’m having a great time, but at some point in my life i should probably stop paying for monster sex and get a boyfriend, right? darkgothnightengale: that time doesn’t have to be right now. Besides, how will you ever go back to some regular guy? sendmeanangel: very funny. This can’t be a sustainable way to go through life. I just worry people will start feeling like they are owed new monster fucking tales every week because they subscribed to read the ones already out there. I don’t want to let people down or make them think they got played somehow MNstrluvr: what if when you get to the point where you think you're through, you make that clear to any new subscribers? And just because you aren’t fucking a new monster at the hotel every week doesn’t mean you can’t keep writing amazing stories that your followers will love darkgothnightengale: you can write whatever you want when you want. There’s nothing on the site that promises content on any kind of consistent basis and people can always stop subscribing if they feel cheated, which is stupid because they are still getting quality content. you have a voice that people like to read. It doesn’t have to be about shapeshifters or vampires sendmeanangel: speaking of which MNstrluvr: YES!!! I’m so glad you decided to try him next. I cannot wait. He looks so fucking hot sendmeanangel: yeah, well walter continues to be completely booked. besides, they all look fucking hot lol MNstrluvr: there’s just something even more dangerous in his eyes. He looks totally unhinged. In a good way. darkgothnightengale: the best way sendmeanangel: you guys are crazy

“It's lovely to see you again. Thank you for signing the T&C online this time. I hope you had a chance to look through the extra restrictions on this room. It's very important that they are adhered to.”

Were you being called out? Did the hotel somehow know your two previous hosts had broken rules for you? Hopefully no one was getting into trouble.

“We simply don't want any mishaps,” as if in answer to the questions swirling in your mind. Though it still didn't tell you if they knew.

The desk clerk handed you another heavy iron key. Where the mechanism to open the forest room last month had been fairly plain and rustic, this one was filled with intricate lacy patterns. You wanted to snap a picture of the antique gothic skeleton key and send it to your online friends but decided it might be too much like bragging. After all, this would be the third fantasy visit they'd talked you into. Not that you needed much prodding anymore. That they couldn't partake in reality was making you feel bad, no matter how happy for you your friends said they were.

You made your way down the hall after exiting the elevator and stopped before the heavy wooden arched door full of intricately carved details that matched the key in your hand. The room was dark when you stepped in, but before you could reach for a light switch, a deep voice spoke from across the room, sending a cold shiver down your spine.

"You're late."

"I only just checked in."

"And no apology, I see. It's five after. We were to start on the hour. I assumed that was clear, but maybe I'll need to remind you of the importance of punctuality during our time together."

A finger snap sounded from the place in the dark where you heard the voice and flames lit up a fireplace nearby. Your eyes were drawn there, hoping the glow of the flame would illuminate your host, but no one appeared. All you saw was the carved stone of the mantle and wrought iron candelabras filled with fat pillars that were lighting one by one as if by magic as well.

As the warm light began to bathe the room, you felt a rush of air behind you and heard the door to the room slam shut. You turned to see nothing again, though you heard the click of a lock.

"Did you at least come prepared?" the voice sounded near your ear, though again, no one was to be seen as you spun once more to face into the room.

"I did," you answered into the space in front of you, even as you peered left and right. Where the fuck was he?

“Right here,” he spoke from behind you again, and this time you could see as well as feel the hands that gripped your upper arms and held you tight against the solid form behind you. You glanced at the fingers curled around your biceps and licked your lips, thinking of where you’d rather have them. Caressing your face. Around your throat. Thrust deep inside…”Before we get there, I believe you owe me an apology.”

And now you had a choice. How would that apology go? Remain standing like an insolent brat or kneel to the man you wanted to dominate you this evening? Not that he wouldn’t dominate the brat as well, but maybe you didn’t need it to be so demanding this first time. His fingers loosened as you began to turn toward him but you sunk to your knees before you saw his face, so it wasn’t until you lifted your chin to plead forgiveness that you had the opportunity to drink him in.

He was dressed in sharp black pants with a crisp crease down the front of each leg. A neatly pressed black button up shirt with french cuffs and mother of pearl links sat behind a black silk brocade vest with mother of pearl buttons. In the light, you couldn’t tell for sure, but the pattern in the vest seemed to match the key as well. A blood-red silk tie paired with a handkerchief peeking from the front of his jet black jacket that set off his broad shoulders nicely and was buttoned at the right height to taper his waist.

But his face. You inhaled to keep yourself steady before you spoke the words requesting his forgiveness. The calming breath helped you take in more of his visage without fainting on the spot.

His jawline was strong. And unlike the fuller beards of Walter or Sy, this man’s facial hair consisted of a five o’clock shadow and a neatly trimmed mustache. His dark hair was swept back to the side, though you could tell if he hadn’t styled it perfectly, the curl would take over. You’d love to see it sometime. Maybe even tonight.

What caught your breath in your throat was his piercing blue eyes and it took you a few moments to realize he was laughing at you. You had to fight to gain control from his mesmerizing gaze, but before you could ask him to repeat himself, he already was.

“I said," Apology accepted” and you can stand now, princess. Show me what you came with.” He helped you to stand, then drew his hand down your arm as he took a step back. He dropped your hand and motioned toward you before he crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his head as if to say “go ahead now.”

You took a deep breath, suddenly unsure if you’d made the right ensemble choice. Though it matched his outfit perfectly somehow, you were hesitant to bare so much to him so soon. But there was no turning back now. Well, of course there was, but you didn’t want to. At best, you could imagine excusing yourself to use the restroom and changing into a different outfit.

You undid the belt on your long, black trench coat, then popped the buttons one by one until you could open the flaps and shrug the coat off your shoulders and down your arms. You were about to let it drop to the floor, but something made you stop and hold the fabric in your hands at your sides.

“May I take your coat?” he asked like the gentleman he was portraying, holding out a hand and you reached it over to him, before smoothing your hands down the body of your black strapless gown, worrying away the non-existent wrinkles. A few blood-red rose embellishments nestled strategically into the delicate embroidery woven along the sheer black lace bodice of the dress, your bare skin visible only in the spots where no design was found. You released the clasps attaching the hem of the dress to the waist and allowed the full length of the black silk skirt to flow to the ground. It sported a trail of matching but larger floral adornments cascading in spiral from one hip across the front and down the other side. With the matching red silk pumps, you were a vision. You felt a rush of air and as you lifted your gaze from your dress back to him, your coat seemed to have disappeared, because it was no longer in his hands. And the look on his face told you you’d made the right choice.

“You look ravishing.” At his words of praise you forgot all about where your coat might have gotten off to.

“Is this okay?”

“If this is the attire you wished to begin in, then it’s perfect. We’ve already lost so much precious time with your late arrival.”

You stood silent, unsure if he was asking for another apology. It seemed like a bad idea to let him actually ask before you offered another, but your voice was stuck in your throat, so taken were you by his demeanor. It turned out you were wrong to wait.

“I don’t like to ask for apologies, but trust that I will whenever they are warranted. Hopefully, you’ll begin to know when you’ve crossed a line. I suppose technically, you have already apologized, so I won’t ask for another. This time.” At the admonishment, you dropped your gaze to the floor with embarrassment. “I also ask your forgiveness for my rudeness. So many lessons you’re learning already and you don’t even know my name yet. Allow me to correct that. My name is August Walker and it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance finally.”

What did he mean by finally? Here, now, in this room when he finally shared his name and lifted your arm to kiss the back of your hand? Or had he heard stories about you too?

“May I add something to your ensemble?” You could practically hear the subtle tilt of his head in question.

“Of course,” you replied, willing your nerves to allow you to look up at him again.

“It's only, well, you look so delicious. I'm afraid I'll need a reminder, or rather, a deterrent.” His hands raised, something appearing between his fingers as if from nowhere. You noticed a wide band of heavy black embroidered ribbon with metal clasps at each end. Your chin tilted almost involuntarily to allow him room to place the choker around your neck.

“You don’t want to…?” Was he not going to bite you? Did you make a mistake by not actually reading the T&C when you signed, scrolling quickly to the end of the form and checking the box as fast as you could to make sure the room wasn’t swiped from under you before you’d had a chance to complete the online booking.

“I never said that,” he replied, stepping in closer as he traced a finger around one side of your neck, down over your collarbone, and stopping just at the valley between your breasts.

“Is there a rule you’re afraid of breaking with me?” you asked, craning to bring your lips closer to his.

“I don't break the rules darling, I make them.” August returned his hand to your neck, stilling your advancement with the smallest effort.

“Well then, are you unable to actually bite me?” you asked, not sure whether you wanted him to consider this a question that crossed the line.

“Oh, I'm free to bite when and where you want. Many foolishly ask for the neck. In those moments, I usually oblige.”

“But…” you began.

“But there is a sweeter spot, more delicate, most delicious. This,” he let his finger run along the material around your throat, ”will help me make the better choice for both of us.”

You drew in a quick breath through your nose, causing a shudder in your shoulders as you realized you’d been holding your breath while he hinted at where he’d prefer to bite you. You’d chosen the dress specifically because it bared so much of your body near your neck that you’d hoped he couldn’t help but want to taste you. You foolishly never considered how much more bare you’d need to be before he was able to see the spot he wanted.

His dark chuckle unnerved you, but he quelled your apprehension with an invitation to join him at the dinner table. You’d completely forgotten that this experience had promised an evening meal, but honestly you assumed that was just some clever play on words. That you were to be the meal. He escorted you to a corner of the room near the fireplace, where a sumptuous feast had been set, and deposited you on one side of the table before taking a seat across from you.

“Would you care for some wine this evening?”

“Wine sounds lovely,” you answered, suddenly curious if he’d be drinking and eating with you. You watched as he lifted a decanted red and filled your glass, only to replace the crystal container onto the table before pouring a glass of his own from a dark brown glass bottle. He lifted his glass to toast your evening.

You watched carefully as he brought the goblet to his lips and drank, noticing that no obvious fangs appeared as he opened his mouth, though his canines did seem a little longer than you were used to. At least until recently that was. The men at this hotel all seemed to have been genetically gifted with glorious canine teeth and you weren’t complaining in the least.

“Now, what can I offer you to eat?” Cut fruit sat in open bowls alongside a tray of sliced meats and cheeses. He began to lift the covers off several porcelain serving dishes, revealing chicken and beef dishes, as well as vegetables and roasted potatoes. At your hesitancy, he smiled, as if extremely pleased, and continued. “Or would you prefer I choose for you?”

“I’d like it very much if you would recommend something. It all looks so wonderful.”

“Would you pass me your plate?” You obliged and he ladled servings of a few of the dishes. You noted with curiosity that he was choosing everything you would have chosen for yourself and none of the items you’d already determined you didn’t want to try, though you hadn’t said a word.

You thanked him as he handed your plate back and he invited you to begin, which you did. Because he’d asked you to. As you took your first bite, you moaned at the taste in your mouth and you thought you saw him lick his lips. What you didn’t see him do was serve himself.

“Is it to your liking then?” he asked.

“Oh, it’s delicious, thank you August…may I call you August?”

“For now. Now, what shall we talk about at this very civilized dinner we’re having together?” he asked, as he leaned back in his chair, goblet in one hand, as the fingers of the other drew lazy circles on the tablecloth.

“Can we talk about how it doesn’t appear you're actually going to be eating with me?” You knew it was a bold question, but you still wanted to needle him a little, see where the line was.

“You see, it’s the insolence I mind. Not the question. There is a way to go about asking what you want to know without making it seem like you are trying to anger me. Or are you? Hmm?”

“I’m sorry, August,” you spoke as you placed your fork down. You had a sudden, unfortunate thought. What if you weren’t the only one who could call the whole thing off? What if your hosts had just as much right to pull out a safeword and end the liaison? You supposed, even though you were paying for the pleasure, they had to have a say in things as well. Otherwise, they were just…the thought made you shudder and not in a good way. “I am truly sorry. That was rude of me. Are you able to eat with me?”

“I am not. But I’m more than happy to enjoy your company and a more pleasant conversation while you dine. If you agree, of course.”

“Of course. Please, can we start over?”

“Pick up your fork and take a bite,” he commanded. “Continue your meal. And consider what you would like to talk about.” He took another drink and watched you with deeply penetrating eyes.

The meal was delicious and you finally figured out a topic of conversation that was neither too personal nor banal. When you made him laugh, you felt a small weight lift off your shoulders, as if his heavy and dark demeanor had made you nervous that this choice of hotel hosts was a mistake.

You had always been a bit enthralled with vampires. Loved reading Dracula both as published and in chronological order, as you’d heard about on Tumblr. Enjoyed the myriad of cinematic adaptations of the tale, especially the ones that played up the sensuality of the character. You really never imagined them to be real, but then again, you didn’t think werewolves or minotaurs were real either. For a brief moment, you thought back to your previous visits, letting your fork trail down with a slow descent.

“Finished?” he asked when your utensil hit the plate, eyebrow raised in question as he leaned forward preparing to scoot his chair back from the table. Before you’d even finished your nod, he was at your chair, easing it away from the table and offering you a hand to help you up.

“I think it’s quite time to get started on the rest of your lessons. Would you step to the window please?”

You turned and noticed the thick, black velvet curtains and assumed they must cover a window. You were commanded to open them, and you did, peering out into practical darkness only to see your reflection in place of any scenery. You glanced to the side of your image when you felt the fingertips at the top of your zipper, but though you knew they were attached to arms, attached to a body that was pressed right against you, adding more drag to his knuckles against your skin as he pulled the zipper down, you saw nothing in the mirrored window that would tell you another being was in the room with you.

You gasped, but he mistook it for shyness.

“I like to show off my conquests to whomever may be passing by below. We’re far enough up that no one could make out a face, but the body they’ll see,” he finished unzipping your dress and pushed it down your sides, letting it drop to a puddle of fabric at your feet. “The hint of red from these barely there panties, the silhouette of these curves.” You could feel but still not see his hands running up and down the sides of your body, his hands gripping your thighs before traveling up to cup your breasts. You watched as they bounced lightly in the reflection and smirked back at where you assumed his face would be before licking your matte red lips.

Your concentration was broken for a brief moment at the far off sound of a melancholy howl, but August didn’t let you linger on the thought. He spun you around to him and pressed you back toward the window, where you hissed when your ass came into contact with the chilly pane. How he missed the clink against the window, you’ll never know.

Then he caught your attention and you lost all concern for how exposed or cold your body might be at the moment. The change was practically imperceptible. One moment, he held your gaze with his dark and stormy eyes. In the next blink, his eyes burned red and held you rapt as he began to grin. Slowly, as his lips drew back, the fangs descended and you could swear you heard a faint click.

You probably let out a whimper when you saw him run his tongue along the sharp points and you definitely tilted your head on impulse, forgetting for a moment that he had already refused to take you there.

“I’d like you on your knees, please,” he asked, a little nicer than you imagined he had reason to be. Once you had obliged, he returned to commands. “Take me out.”

You did so gladly and without delay. Every assumption you made turned out to be right. He was just as well endowed as your other hosts, at least in human form. Which was nothing to sneeze at and you certainly weren’t kicking it out of bed.

You feasted on him as if you hadn’t just already eaten and you were happy to hear the sounds from him that told you he was enjoying it. And then he spoke to you.

“You like sucking on this cock, where everyone can see you, don’t you?”

Truth be told, it had never occurred to you before. But there was an exhibitionism option on the registration form and you clicked it in a moment of audacity. He was simply giving you what you had asked for, right? It would feel this way for any guest he had in this room, right? That feeling of being out of control while technically being in the most control? You wanted him to take it.

“Yes,” you gasped as you pulled your head back for air before diving forward to take him down your throat again.

“I knew that you would. You like being naughty, don’t you?”

You bobbed your head up and down as you looked up at him, praying he didn’t make you take him out of your mouth just so he could hear you answer verbally. Your prayers were not answered.

“I asked you a question. Would you care to answer? Now? You know how I feel about punctuality, I trust.”

“Yes. Yes August, I’m sorry. I do. I really do like being naughty with you.”

Another howl sounded, closer this time and you thought you detected the slightest of eye rolls before August got stern again, reaching down to take hold of your upper arm and lifting you to your feet with ease.

“You’re going to call me Sir from here on out and you’re going to be naughty another way now. First, close the curtains.” He spun you around so you could grab hold of the panels and draw them towards one another. You thought you glimpsed a pair of eyes, a deep glowing amber flame in the night before you shut out the world for good for the moment.

August pulled you close and whispered in your ear, “I’ll open them again if you want, if you didn’t get enough of a taste of that. I’ll take that as far as you want to go. But you should know,... he’ll see.”

It both excited you and made you afraid. Afraid of the feelings you knew had been stirring for weeks now. And yet, you were here. In this room. With this man. As much as you thought about what might be, you also knew you wanted to experience what you could. So you’d never have to doubt or question, because you knew you’d be getting the best in the end. Could it really ever be that way? Could he ever feel the same?

“I’m good. Thank you. That’s really kind of you,” you blinked, bringing yourself back to this moment. To August. “Sir.”

“That might be the last time tonight I will be. Are you ready for that?”

“Yes, Sir” you answered, with no more doubt.

August took you in his arms and kissed you deep and hard, one time, before he turned you by your shoulders and gave you a firm slap on the ass. “Into the bedroom.” The ‘now” at your hesitation was punctuated with another sharp crack and you were wet, there was no doubt about it.

The hotel suite was bathed in sheer red curtains, over the window, over the ornate gothic canopy bed, draped down the black walls. Tall black metal candelabras held glowing candles to light the room. Hooks and straps and rings attached to the walls in various spots held your attention for a brief moment. You hadn’t checked that box, and now you wondered why not.

You could only see yourself trying a few new things at once.

These things tonight would be a vampire. And you’d already exposed yourself. Only one more to go, and the bondage wasn’t going to be it.

August turned you back towards him when you reached the foot of the bed, then proceeded to undress. You watched enthralled as he unbuttoned his jacket, the vest, his shirtsleeves, his shirt. You watched as it all came off, one piece at a time, designed to torture you, you were sure of it. He was fucking with you. Keeping you from seeing everything all at once.

You bit your lip, but all you wanted to say was ‘i’ve seen your dick already it’s been in my mouth please give it back.’

He finally did, ordering you to the bed on your hands and knees as he stepped his fully naked body toward you, halting at the foot of the bed to grab your head and stuff his cock right down your throat. Like he’d heard what you thought.

You moaned around him, squeezing your thighs together for friction as you gyrated your hips and bobbed your head back and forth along his length. It would take barely nothing, just the slightest touch, if he would just, yeah, just…

“Oh, you did come prepared, didn’t you?”

You moaned again when you felt his fingers slide over your ass and pause to rub against the handle of the largest teardrop plug you owned. It came in a set of three, black silicone with a shiny red crystal in each handle. Up until this week, you'd only ever used the smallest while alone, but decided you needed to be ready and so had worked your way up to the largest just last night.

“Yes, Sir,” you pulled off and answered quickly, eager to get back to sucking his large member.

“What are you prepared for?” He wiggled the handle a little when he asked.

“For you to fuck my ass, Sir.”

“Good girl,” he slapped a cheek again, then smoothed his hand over the sting and down in the dip to find your aching pussy and just like you knew it would, his touch lit you on fire. He had the wherewithal to slide your thong to the side and angle two fingers so you could press back into them on your withdrawal from his dick and pull away from them, though he’d chase, on your approach. You fucked back into his hand like you were possessed and you came once more because you definitely were.

This man owned you. For tonight anyway. He could do whatever he wanted to you and you wouldn’t say no. No way in hell.

He pulled away and turned you to face the other direction, ass waving in the space directly in front of him as you imagined and wished and hoped he’d just fuck you, please very much. He chuckled and you blinked, imagining you’d seen him now standing at the nightstand, now right behind you again. You felt him pull your underwear all the way off. And you heard the crinkle of the wrapper and you felt him slide two fingers back inside you, felt him rub the pads of his fingers along your inner walls and you felt him find the right spot, the one that released more lubrication which he gladly gathered on his finger and smeared all over his sheathed cock before he pressed himself into you.

He fucked you for a bit before he spoke again.

“I’m going to give you what you want me to give you, and then you’re going to give me what you want to give me.” With a slap on your ass, he pulled out, grabbed your hips and flipped you to your back. You watched him discard the condom before he climbed on to the bed and stepped his knees between your legs, nudging you further up the bed so that he could lay his body on the mattress, his head on your thigh, peering at your puffy pussy.

“Yeah, she’s gorgeous,” he murmured, dipping his head down to take a taste. His tongue trailed through your folds and as his lips closed you felt a hint of the scrape of his teeth against your delicate skin. He sucked at your clit for a moment before he drew back and looked up at you.

“You still want to feel this?” he asked, and you paused for one moment to consider, that yes, yes you absolutely still wanted to know what his bite would feel like. There was really no doubt in your mind. It’s what you came here for. And you knew you needed to answer him directly or it would all be over.

“Yes, Sir. Yes. Please. I want to feel it. I want to feel your bite.”

It was all he needed. In a flash he was at the crease in your thigh, just outside your cunt. You felt his mouth open, felt him drag his teeth back and forth before he finally settled on a spot to sink them. Your pussy pulsed around nothing but the brief rhythmic flow of your blood drawn into his mouth.

You felt a rush of euphoria, a warmth like never before. A million stars lit up in your eyes and you could feel every molecule in your body and every one of them was in a state of bliss. You felt him take one more pull, a wave rushing across the shore of your imagination. When he stopped, it was almost as torturous as before he had begun. At least now you knew what that bliss could feel like.

It scared you a little. It felt like a drug you didn't want to mess around with. As good as it felt, you could imagine never wanting to let the feeling go. Begging for more. Offering up your body and soul to get one more taste, one more drifting orgasm.

Suddenly you were aware of the softest lick. The smallest peck of the lips. When you looked up at you, a stain of blood still remained on his lips and he saw you moan, saw you begin to writhe and strain up, even against the voice in your head that told you it was wrong, and it was all he could do to turn away.

“Please August,” you begged, forgetting what role you were in.

“Princess, not for a million dollars. Not for ten million. There is literally nothing you could offer me that would make me break that rule.”

“What rule, August? What can’t you do for me?” you pleaded for an answer, pressing yourself up to your knees, unaware that the rush you were experiencing had nothing to do with the way you thought you felt about August in the moment, and everything to do with the essence he used to ease the pain of the skin break, numb the feeling of loss, and reseal the wound in the aftermath.

“I get the feeling you really didn’t read the T&C, darling. If you had you would know, in this room, this suite,” he emphasized, as if he’d had to make that clarification before, “I cannot feed you. Even if what you’ve scented is your own blood. It’s too dangerous for you to taste it. Full of my saliva. Mixed together, it’s too potent for you.”

You were distraught and he was … was he amused?

“But I’ve given you what you asked for. Are you still ready to give me what you want?” He waited a few moments, allowing you to come to grips with the reality of the situation. You had slipped over a line, though it didn’t sound like this was something he hadn’t experienced before. A naive young thing, determined to play out a school girl fantasy, relive the stories she made up about being ravished and taken by the Count, made to be his bride.

With a small shake of your head, something cleared its way to the forefront of your mind. Of course he couldn’t feed you and of course you didn’t really want him to. It was a fantasy. That’s it. That’s all. You could only take this so far.

Once he saw you understood where the line was, August's chuckle was sinister. “You can still have something new. I’m more than happy to accommodate that request. As a matter of fact, I think that’s really the only reason you came here tonight, isn’t that right?”

Oh, he was good. That’s for sure. The way he was subtly shifting the priority of the night. Technically speaking, the only thing you’d really wanted was the bite. And he’d already given that to you. So if you were up for one more game…

“That’s right.”

He grabbed your chin and stared directly into your eyes. “That’s right, what?”

“That’s right, SIr.”

“Good girl. Lay back down. I’ll be right back.”

You wanted to kiss him goodbye as he let go of your face and appeared to float away from you. When he returned from the bathroom, his face was fresh and free of any temptation.

“Alright, princess. Hands and knees again, darling. Bring that ass right on over here,” he directed you back to the edge of the bed, ass once again in the air while you rested on your forearms.

August took his time. Warmed you up with a few more light taps that grew to harsh stings that you couldn’t stop squirming for. And you squirmed again when he tugged and twisted and pulled on the handle, teasing the plug almost all the way out before pushing it back in and then repeating the exquisite torture. You couldn’t hold still until he’d finally pulled it all the way out and pressed two lubed fingers into your puckered hole, and it was only because you needed a moment. Needed to let the sensation settle. Needed to relax to let him in deeper. Let another finger in. It wasn’t long before you were fucking yourself back on his hand again. ‘Same but different’ was all your mind could cobble together.

“Please, Sir,” you managed to gasp out in a moment of clarity. If you never asked, would he have just kept you dangling like this all night? “Please fuck my ass.”

“There you go, princess. You’ve found your manners finally.” He pulled his fingers out and you heard the familiar tear of another wrapper. Felt more lube. And finally, finally had the tip of what you knew was his extremely large cock pressed against your entrance.

It was easy to relax. He’d been prepping you for this for what felt like hours. It took nothing more than for you to release the deep breath you’d taken and he was past the now-less-tight ring and moving further inside you, slowly and with purpose. That purpose was to get you comfortable with the feeling, loosen you up further, and get you begging for more of him. Faster. Harder. Please, Sir. Please! More!

He obliged and it was not much longer before you felt the familiar coil tightening in a brand new way. It was like nothing you’d ever experienced before. You were breaking protocol and screaming his name instead of Sir, but as he came himself, he didn’t seem to mind at all.

Bonus Edit: Absolutely GORGEOUS headers made for me by my wonderful friend in fic @geralts-yenn:

Everything HC Taglist: (as always, let me know if you want on or off)

@sillyrabbit81 @mayloma @geralts-yenn @raccoon-eyed-rebel @fvckinghenrycavill @kebabgirl67 @beck07990 @itsrubberbisquit @sweetdreamsofgelato @liveoncoffeeandflowersss @alexakeyloveloki @marantha @aireraume @angelmather1 @lizzystuffsthings @enchantedbytomandhenry @omgkatinka @littlefreya @avengersfan25 @just-chirpin @thesaucynomad @valacirca @henryownsme @summersong69 @foxyjwls007 @peyton-warren @irishavengersassemble

Special tag: @kittenofdoomage (cause sometimes you love my stuff and this one's another monster fucker lol!)

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@ellethespaceunicorn @juliaorpll78 @martha-oi @cardierreh15 @cinnamoroll-things @caramariehurst @zombicupcake3 @openup-yourmind @shellyshellshell @nickfowlerrr @greensleeves888 @misshinson @thelastsock @princessaxoo @augustsprincess @justjulie1105 @minimin1993 if you asked and aren't here, Tumblr won’t let me tag you. Sorry!

#august walker fanfiction #august walker x reader #august walker #vampire!august #vampire!august walker #vampire!august x reader #vampire!august walker x reader #spoopy season #henry cavill characters #henry cavill fanfiction #gothic fantasy #mine #deandoesthingstome

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chiefdirector · 11 months ago

Text

Bargaining | Tim Bradford | The Rookie

Sargent Grey watched Regina intently through the two-way mirror. She sat as poised and composed as she ever had, knowing that she was in a position of power over the LAPD. For a moment, the possibilities of her grasp and influence over the tragic chapter in Tim and (Y/N)’s life sent a chill down his spine. He had dealt with criminals like her before, who believed they were in control of the situation at every angle, but he also knew from Rosalind Dyer that their own perceived infallibleness could lead to their own downfall.

In many ways, Regina reminded Grey of Rosalind. The way the conducted themselves was an obvious similarity, but there was a glint that Regina held in her eye when speaking of her wrongdoings, especially the ones inflicted on his officers, that Rosalind held when they escorted her to the burial sites of her victims. She found this amusing; she enjoyed the toying and the torture of her actions but Grey was determind to break it out of her, he would break her down to dust if that’s what it took.

He had to take a step out of the interrogation room after Regina asked for her lawyer, she was trying to play him and he knew he was letting his rage guide him into her traps. So he watched from the viewing room, Nyla and Jackson beside him as Angela took over the questioning.

“Ms. Diaz,” Angela said as she walked into the room, she immediately sat down and kept her gaze on the drug lord, choosing to not acknowledge her legal counsel. “You said to Sargent Grey that you had information pertaining to our-”

Regina raised her hand slightly from where it was still cuffed to the table. “I implied.”

“Okay you implied that you had information pertaining to an ongoing case.” Angela opened a file before turning it to face the woman. “But you did say, and I quote ‘...their case worker didn’t know where they were all day?’ which was classified information. So would you like to elaborate how you know that before I charge you with stealing and weaponizing confidential police records?”

“Hey, hey now.” The lawyer, who now grabbed Angela’s attention, said. He did not look like the type of legal help someone of Regina’s notoriety or funds would hire. He sat in a too big blazer, held together by quick-fix hand stitches and mis-matching buttons. His greying hair matched the weary look he carried. “You don't need to answer it.”

“I know, but I want to,” She smirked, leaning forward in her chair slightly. “I want to make a deal. I know I'm going away for life, and then some, but I want privileges. You know, extra yard time, early access to the commissary. Quality of life, I’m sure you’re aware of what I mean, Detective Lopez?”

“Something can be arranged, if your information holds up that is. So if you will…”

“One more thing.”

Angela had to stop herself from getting irate, she didn't want to lose the semblance of control she currently had. “What?”

“I want to tell Officer Tim Bradford. I’d like to meet him properly. I’ve only seen him through images you see, and the time I shot his wife, of course. How is she by the way?”

Lopez didn’t respond, instead she gathered the files and turned to storm out of the room. She couldn’t handle anymore of her games, and she would be damned if she let Regina Diaz know that she got under her skin. She already had taken her best friend away from her for two years, Angela refused to give her any more satisfaction than that.

-----

“Absolutely not.” Grey slammed it fist down on the table in front of him. He had heard Regina’s request, but he never thought that any of his officers would want to humour the woman. “We are not giving her what she wants. If she wants her deal, she will do it on our terms.”

Nyla stepped forwards, hands raised slightly in surrendering to show she meant no animosity. “I don’t think we have a choice, we have all gone over her files and her records numerous times, does any part of it seem like she ever gives in. Or that she has anything to lose, like she said, she’s almost guaranteed life in prison, if not the death penalty. If we don’t play her game, we may never know what happened.”

Grey looked like he was going to reject Nyla’s statement, but Jackson stepped to speak before he could start. “Harper’s right. I spoke with Detective Bradford this morning, to get her statement. She knows as much as Williamson did. Their version of events line up, the only two people who know the rest is Diaz, and the case worker.”

“That's the thing though,” Angela flipped through the files she had brought to the interrogation, looking for something. “The case worker for this assignment has been redacted. I took the name that Jackson got from (Y/N) earlier and ran him through the system. He doesn’t exist.”

Grey pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “So we’re hunting a ghost, and the only way we even get a lead is to make a deal with the Devil.”

-----

Lopez moved through the familiar walls of the hospital as she made her way towards (Y/N)’s room. She had been here many times during her career within the police department so the lurch of uncertainness growing in the pit of her stomach unnerved her. She was normally so comfortable here, it was like being anywhere else, but this time was different, she was going to see her best friend properly for the first time in two years.

Despite (Y/N) being here for a few days now, Angela still hadn’t visited. At first she said it was because she was so busy getting all of the paperwork and the crime scene logged and cleared of all evidence, and then she was helping the others piece together Regina’s confessions. Grey could see through her excuses, he could tell that she was scared to find someone who looked like her best friend but had changed completely. The two of them had been rookies together, and even though (Y/N) got promoted to detective rather quickly and Angela to Training Officer their friendship never swayed or lessened. The reality that all of this years together could be gone scared Angela, but she had to face it head on; she knew that, and Grey knew that, so he bit the bullet and ordered her to go see (Y/N).

She stopped outside the door and took a breath. Angela didn’t bother knocking, she never had before and she didn't see the reason to start now. Instead, she creaked open the door and leaned against the frame. “Hey.”

“Ange. What are you doing here?” (Y/N) said, smiling up to her friend from where she sat with her legs crossed on the bed. She looked a lot better than Anegla had expected, the last time she had seen her was when she was holding pressure on her gunshot wound as (Y/N) started to bleed out in front of her. In all honesty, Angela didn’t know what to expect, but seeing (Y/N) as her usually chipper self isn't something she would have bet on. “Here, come sit. Tim will be back in a moment with coffee, if you text him I'm sure he will bring you one.”

“I came to see you… and I’m good… thank you though.”

“What’s up? Is everything okay?”

And that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. At (Y/N)’s question, Angela pushed herself forward to envelope (Y/N) in her grasp, pulling back only slightly when she heard (Y/N)’s little gasp of pain. As she hugged her best friend, tears started to fall down Angela’s face and into (Y/N)’s shoulder. “I never thought I’d see you again.”

“I know.” (Y/N) pulled back to allow Angela to collect herself. Once the sobs died down into trickling tears, she continued. “I also didn’t think I’d be seeing anyone again.”

“What?” Angela sniffled, wiping away the tears with her sleeve.

“She, Regina, had photos. She threatened to hurt and kill you all if I didn’t disappear.”

“We thought the images were just of Tim.”

“No.” (Y/N) shook her head. “They had pictures of Tim, you, Grey as well as others in the station. There were hundreds. It wasn’t only my life at stake, all of you were. So I made the obvious call, me for all of you.”

“Don’t say that.” Said a voice from the doorway, Tim. He stood there, mouth almost open in shock at what he heard (Y/N) say. “There is not a situation where your life is worth trading, (Y/N). You’re too valuable to us, to me.”

(Y/N) looked down at her lap as Tim made his way fully into the room. He wasn’t surprised at Angela’s presence, he knew that she would have shown up sooner or later. He sat in the chair opposite the bed and looked up at the girls. “Has Regina said anything?”

“Not exactly…”

“What does that mean?”

“She said that she would talk, but only to you Tim.”

Part Eight | Part Ten

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Tags: @xceafh @kmc1989 @buba424 @salty0cracker

Tags are open :)

#tim bradford imagine #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford #the rookie #chiefdirector #bottom of the river

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vixen-tech · 5 months ago

Note

if you want to -- maybe AUTO with a botanist reader? i just think it'd be so interesting how it would play out !! u dont have to, so only do it if u want to!!

🩹 anon

To be Loved, To Maybe be Changed (Auto x Botanist!Reader)

Oh that certainly is a concept!! It's a great one for Auto to, this put an entire storyline in my head that I think justifies breaking out the oneshot format rather than headcanons. Which works out great because I think out of all the Ai's I've written for, he would need the most 'set up' from how not-sentient he's protrayed in Wall-E. Anyways grab a snack floks this is a long one

It had been many generations since the Axium returned home to earth. Humans, robots, and the all important plant finding themselves back on soil, populating the deserted planet once more.

Things have changed since then. The human body began readapting to earth's gravity, the majority of buildings around the landing site have been fixed up and inhabited, and most importantly: the city is covered in plants. Grasses sprout between broken walkways, invy weaves its way up repurposed skyscrapers, gardens spill out of every available alleyway, a gaint tree stands where that first plant took root all those centuries ago. Each year it seems the sky gets a little more blue.

The ever diversifying flora had captivated you ever since you first had the words to describe it. As soon as you had a say so, you began studying it. Dispite the flourishing growth, any sort of plant husbandry was still something of a lost art. You lived off of the ancient manuals and beginners guides that eventually made their way out of the Axium's archives.

Yet even those could only do so much for you when most of the crops that had evolved from that first seedling had taken forms a far cry from their original pre space-age forefathers. It became your life's mission to learn how to best take care of these new cultivars and of course, spread the knowledge (and hopefully passion) for botany that you had gained throughout your life.

That was what fueled your visits to the Axium. Still parked at the foot of that monumental tree, it had been transformed into something of a community center. With most of its facilities still running and new services offered everyday. You often came to drop off your experimental findings, teach classes, and check to see if other botanists had done the same. Why you began exploring the depths of the halls that one fateful day, you still don't know.

The spaceship was massive, clearly a crowning jewel of its time. To this day many rooms remained unused and largely blocked off. The bustle and warmth of public spaces giving way to dust and insect nests as you roam through areas no longer needed. Bathrooms too far from the people to warrant upkeep, storage rooms that were once filled with replacement parts for the robots that now walked side by side with humans. And at the end of your journey, the captain's quarters.

The door was practically sealed shut with age, and the room behind it was hardly any better. The air attacked you with a cloud of dust once you finally managed to shove open the door, and no matter how much you rubbed your eyes there still appeared to be an almost foggy looking quality to the room.

That's when you found Auto.

He was still dangling from the ceiling above a control panel you doubt still worked. You had seen and befriended many robots before, they were just as common as humans in the city nowadays with remarkably little tension between them. Recognizing that the innert steering wheel in front of you was once one, your heart ached. You were no mechanic, but surely you had to at least try to get him up and running again. What can you say, you were always a bit of a bleeding heart.

After carefully detaching him from the ceiling you carried what was essentially an inanimate hunk of metal all the way back home with you. People stared, sure, but they kept any questions or judgments to themselves as you made your way home.

Your residence was rustic, to say the least. A fairly rundown shack renovated into a makeshift greenhouse. Produce and flowering plants alike overflowed from their neat rows of pots on benches. Some were for you, more were to sell, all were part of research in one way or another.

You loved walking through your own little botanical garden to get to your living quarters. The moment you pass through the front doors you're always hit with a wave of earthy freshness. The smell of petrichor and pollen greeted you (and your new... friend?) just as it always did. Never once failing to make you feel at home.

Your living quarters themselves were similarly homey. Not drastically bigger than a hotel room, it's a modest living area with a kitchen tucked in the corner and two doors along the wall. One leading to a compact bathroom, the other your bedroom. Some may call it cramped, but to you it's cozy. You spent most of your time in the greenhouse anyway.

That might have been the only day you mourned your lack of space. As if he were a friend you had to drag home after a night of drinking, you placed Auto on the couch. Promising to yourself that you'd do your best to fix him up. You'd probably have to give him some wheels to, since you ripped him from the ship. Well, your life could always use some more excitement.

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

Your knowledge of machinery had definitely improved over the past few weeks. On all accounts you were extraordinarily lucky that he was in such good shape. Age had rendered most of his circuits unusable, but isolation kept them from becoming unrecognizable. Night after night you would come home with a new part and with surgical delicacy, swap it out for its damaged counterpart.

You had heard stories from the time of the Axium. You knew of the 'evil autopilot program that tried to trap humanity in space'. You knew that you were probably trying to fix said evil autopilot program. It may have been the weeks of one sided bonding, but you didn't buy it. Surely at worst he was just following orders. And who knows, maybe with some free will he might be able to turn over a new leaf.

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

"What happened?" His voice was striking, deep and inhumanly regular in a way that was still seen a trademark of artificial speech. He was upright on the wheeled body you attached him to, the red eye (camera?) at the center of his face seemed to scan you up and down before doing the same to the room around him.

The cocktail of pride and anxiety had yet to leave your chest. You attempted to explain, "Well I fixed you-"

"Before that." He interrupted. Slowly wheeling himself to the living room window, still unsure of the new addition you had made to his body. "Where are we?" He added.

You should have been prepared for that one. "We're on earth, in my house." You watched with apprehension as he stared out the window. The steering wheel that made his outer body clicked back and forth as if he were swaying in thought.

"Earth is habitable." His voice lacked strong inflection, you were unsure if he was asking you a question or stating the fact to himself.

"It has been for a long time." You said as gently as you possibly could. "You were... on that ship for centuries, a lot has changed since then."

If he was listening to you, he made no effort to show it. Instead continuing to look outside as if he were zoning out in thought. "There are plants", he observed.

The view out that window wasn't remarkable by any means. Just some grass and a few odd trees before the city's skyscrapers blocked your line of sight. But the mere mention of plants was always enough to get you excited. "Oh if you're interested in plants you should see this." Gesturing for him to follow you as you opened the door to your greenhouse.

He paused for a moment before trailing behind you.

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

Auto made for a strange guest. With no astro-cruise to run he spent a considerable amount of time staring at you while you worked. It was only as you were measuring the pH of your plants' soil that you began narrating your work to him. It started as a way for you to simply diffuse the tension and explain why you were so invested in the vegetation.

He made for a good wall to rant to. You didn't have many close friends and certainly none as into botany as you, most other botanists spent as much time with their garden as you do. But thankfully, no matter how much you asked if you were being annoying, he would repeat that "The information is important, please continue." All while focused on whatever orchid you made the subject of your newest lecture. You did make it clear that he was free to leave at any time.

He never did.

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

Your first trip to the Axium since Auto's reactivation was an awkward one, at least on your part. When you announced that you needed to go to drop off your latest batch of research he requested to could come with, one of the first things he asked of you since waking up.

Perhaps you shouldn't have been surprised, Auto had barely took a step outside your home. Relying instead on you and whatever books or documentaries you had to fill him in on what the world had become. Who were you to deny him some fresh air?

Although you had grown much more comfortable around him you were still anxious to hear what he thought of everything. And as always his judgment came in the form of definite reports. It was all "Humanity is stable." Or "Plant life is flourishing." If he had any semblance of opinion, he didn't tell you about it.

He didn't behave much differently on the Axium, continuing to trail you like a lost duckling and thoroughly scan the surroundings. It wasn't until you met up with a fellow herbalist that he spoke a word.

They asked you about a specific project you were working on, a new crossbreed of a medicinal herb of particular interest to them. However, as it wasn't the purpose of your trip you didn't have any of its records on you. You were about to apologize and tell them so until Auto informed them, "The crossbreed has shown accelerated growth but a greater sensitivity to sunlight." The herbalist thanked both of you and walked off.

Even though you shouldn't have been shocked to learn that he was actually storing the information you spat at him, it was still nice to know that he cared to some degree.

"Thank you, Auto."

"You're welcome."

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

The days have gone on much the same since then. You had never sought out an adventurous life. Often you go out the greenhouse in the morning and find Auto observing the various moths and flies that had evolved as pollinators alongside the new flora. "Morning Auto!" You would cheerfully greet.

You never fully understood why he stayed, but it didn't matter to you at this point. He was here and he made no effort to go. You had more than enough room in your life for him anyway.

"Good morning."

And so another day starts.

#vix fics #objectum #auto wall e #wall e auto #wall e #auto x reader #wall e auto x reader #wall e x reader #is this anything? im not sure #it is purely just vibes

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television-overload · 2 months ago

Text

What Really Happened

(an NCIS fanfic)

September 2024. Tali has some questions about her parents' trip to Paris nearly fifteen years prior, and she's determined to get the details.

Written for the September 2024 Tiva Fic Challenge! This month's prompt was "Jet Lag: What Really Happened?"

Read on AO3

For as long as Tali could remember, her father had told her a story.

Twenty-four hours in Paris. A whirlwind trip, romantic and magical. The thing is, every time he told the story, it was different. Details changed, dialogue was exaggerated to unbelievable proportions… What it lacked in detail, it made up for in sentimentality.

“And then I told her she was the most beautiful thing in the city, even prettier than the Eiffel Tower when it sparkles.”

“Did you kiss?” Tali would ask, eyes twinkling.

“Uh, yeah, of course. Now will you go to bed?”

Tali could see, now, he just told her whatever would get her to sleep the quickest. While she hadn’t understood back then, it couldn’t have been easy to be so suddenly thrust into fatherhood with no warning. But it never mattered to her. He was her Abba, and he was the best dad she could have asked for.

“No, tell me more!” she’d demand. “What did Ima look like?”

He would adjust the frame on her bed stand, gazing wistfully at the picture within.

“She looked like an angel, just like you.”

Only a few things stayed the same with every retelling, as far as she could figure: Her mother and father together in Paris, a quaint cafe not far from the tourist sites, and a Vespa scooter that they rode around the city together.

That all may have suited her just fine as a bedtime story when she was little, but Tali was almost eleven years old, now. She could tell she wasn't being told the full truth, and she had a feeling some of the details he would recite were entirely fabricated. She'd done the math, compared the story with what she knew of their lives before she was born—what others who knew them then had told her. Oh yeah, she had sources.

It just didn’t match up.

Time to test out those detective skills to get to the bottom of it. Surely those were genetic?

There was a box in her parents’ closet. It had been there as long as they’d lived here, shipped over from the U.S. when they first moved. Mostly, she figured it held boring stuff like paperwork and whatever else had been in her father’s desk at NCIS before he quit. But maybe there was more. Maybe it contained all the answers to every question she’d ever wondered about her parents.

Or maybe not.

Kneeling on the floor of the closet, she surveyed the contents of the plain cardboard box. It was a mess of papers. Considering the journey it had taken across an ocean and later from their old apartment to their new one, she wasn’t surprised. There were a few other items mixed in, a colorful stapler with a cartoon mouse on it, a few dusty looking service awards…

And an envelope. Now that looked promising.

Reaching in, she pulled it out, growing more and more certain that what she held was a stack of photographs. Photographs of what, she could only guess. Had she found clues that might explain what her parents had been doing in Paris years before they would ever move here? If not, what other pictures might her father have kept in his desk at work?

She held her breath as she opened it, carefully plucking at the corner of one of the colorful prints as she pulled it from the stack.

“What do you think you are doing?”

Tali jumped, only narrowly avoiding throwing the pictures across the room in reflex.

“Ima!” she squeaked, wondering if it was too late to hide them behind her back. The box wasn’t off-limits, per se, but it did have a sort of mystical quality that made digging around in it feel like a breach of some code. It was from a time long past—a time her parents didn’t talk about much, at least when she was around.

But there her mother stood in the doorway to her room, arms crossed over her chest as she fixed a suspicious glare in her direction.

“I was just—”

Her words trailed off as her mother’s expression quickly shifted from suspicion to curiosity. “What do you have there?” she asked, her folded arms falling to her sides as she made her way across the room, glancing down at the box splayed open in the closet.

Tali held out the envelope. Well, this had been a mission failure, she thought—at least the stealthy, ninja-like aspect of it. It remained to be seen if she had in fact found what she was looking for.

“Just some pictures, I think,” she mumbled, handing them over reluctantly.

Her ima slipped them out of the envelope and flipped through them, the corners of her mouth quirking up in a wistful smile.

“Honey, I’m home!” a voice singsonged from the entry hall, echoey and distant.

Her dad.

He’d started saying that when he got home from work as a joke, but now he did it unironically. It got old pretty quick, but she did find it endearing, in a way.

“Hey, where is everybody?” he asked, his voice getting louder and clearer with proximity. Before long, he was peeking his head around the doorway. “Uh oh, am I in trouble?” he asked, taking note of the box at their feet. “I swear I threw out those old magazines before we moved.”

Tali briefly wondered what magazines he could possibly be talking about, and why he would have a physical copy of a magazine in the first place, but she was much more interested in the photos her mom was holding.

“Look what our daughter found,” her ima said, waving the glossy prints in her father’s direction.

“Not the… in California…”

Her ima laughed. “No. Not those ones.”

Her father looked somewhat relieved. “Ah, then it must be the ones from my brief stint as a travel photographer,” he mused aloud, setting his briefcase aside and approaching their huddle by the closet. He took one look at the photos in her hand and grinned. “I still think that’s my favorite picture, by the way,” he said, nodding down at the one she held separate from the others, then dipping down to press a quick kiss to her lips.

“I didn’t actually get to see them,” Tali pouted, crossing her arms with a huff. “Ima took them away before I could see what they were.”

Her mother shared a look with her father, communicating in that infuriatingly wordless way they always did. What were they smirking at?

“Why don’t we go sit down on the couch in the living room and we can look through them together, my love,” Ima said at last, flicking off the light in the closet.

Tali supposed that was agreeable. Whatever she had found, she could at least now be certain they were photos from her parents’ past. She followed them out to the sofa, taking a seat between them on the cushions.

“You know what these are?” her mother asked, finally granting her a peek at what she had unearthed from the box.

It took all her self control not to whoop in excitement when she spotted familiar streets and buildings in just the first few photos.

Jackpot.

“Dad told me,” she said, smiling as she came across one of Ima looking through postcards at a shop. That must be her father’s favorite. “You guys came to Paris.”

Her mother nodded. “We were sent here for work, that’s right.”

Wait, go back a second.

“For work?” Tali asked, her forehead crinkling in confusion. “Dad never told me that.”

“He—” Ima’s head slowly turned in her father’s direction, fixing him with a meaningful glare. “What did he tell you?” she asked, her tone light and inquisitive, but Tali could sense the undercurrent of tension her comment had sparked. Dad was in troubleee.

She glanced at him quickly before answering. “Well… It all sounded very… romantic,” she spoke. To her left, her father looked like he was trying to disappear into the cushions, an awkward grin pulling at his lips.

Oh, Abba, surely you knew this would one day come back to bite you?

“Tony!” Ima shouted predictably, smacking him in the arm. “Why did you lie to Tali?”

“I didn’t lie to her,” he asserted, chuckling nervously.

“You told me that you kissed her on the Eiffel Tower!” Tali said, adding fuel to the flame. Ima's jaw dropped, and she shot him a look. It was funny to watch her dad squirm. Only Ima could make him do that.

He held his hands up in surrender. “Okay, I may have embellished a little,” he acknowledged.

Her mother grabbed the nearest throw pillow off the couch and used it to wallop him in the face, all the while concealing a smile. A woosh of air from the attack blew Tali’s hair back, and she giggled uncontrollably, falling back into the cushions.

“Tony, you have never kissed me on the Eiffel Tower,” she countered irritably.

“I haven’t? Well, we should go fix that,” he said, pretending to get to his feet to leave.

Tali rolled her eyes. “Daaaad.”

He sat back down. “Alright, another time,” he acquiesced. “To be fair, what happened in Paris has always been a bit of a secret between your mom and I. I distinctly remember you lying to Nora on that plane, sweetcheeks.”

“And you lied to McGee,” her mom fired back without missing a beat.

“I knew it,” Tali whispered. Okay, so she knew a little more than she was letting on. Uncle Tim will be delighted that she got a confession out of them.

“I’ll admit it,” Dad started, getting serious once more. “The bedtime story version wasn’t quite the truth.”

Well yeah, that was obvious.

“The truth is, we were on assignment for NCIS,” he continued. “Not very romantic, huh? I guess the way I told it is how I wish it had happened. How it should have happened, if I hadn’t been such a coward.”

This brought a fond, slightly sad smile to her mother’s face, and Tali could feel an arm drape over the back of the couch behind her.

“I wouldn’t say it was entirely unromantic,” Ima said, her fingers playing with the short hair at the back of her dad’s head. “She is old enough to hear this story, yes?” she said, her eyes imploring him to agree with her.

“Most of it,” he answered, breathing out a laugh. “I think she can live without the knitting needle incident until she’s a little older.”

“Agreed.”

Tali crossed her legs on the couch, looking back and forth between her parents. She waited with bated breath for the story to begin, but they sure were taking their sweet time.

Sometimes this happened. They'd just go silent and stare at each other with dopey smiles on their faces until someone or something snapped them out of it. It was annoying.

“Hello?” she said, hopefully reminding them of her presence. “You were saying?”

Her dad was the first to break eye contact, reaching out for the stack of photos and flipping through them.

“Right,” he started. “Do you want to start, or should I, sweetcheeks?”

“You go,” Ima said with a nod. “I want to see if you are capable of remembering this correctly.”

Dad opened his mouth as if to argue, but Tali, with the gift of foresight, distracted him with a question before he could start.

“So, what was the assignment?” she asked, blinking up at him imploringly.

“Protection detail,” he answered, shifting his attention back to her. “A witness who needed safe passage back to the U.S. for a trial. Nora was her name.”

“So you just went there to pick her up and that was it?” Tali asked, desperately hoping that wasn't the case. How boring would that be? No, she knew they had fond memories of the trip. There had to be more than that.

“Pretty much,” her dad answered. “But we flew in the day before, so we got to explore a little bit.”

“Tell me!”

Her mother chuckled, shaking her head at Tali's eagerness.

“Your father wouldn't stop making movie references the entire time we were in the city,” she said. “I think as soon as we stepped foot in the airport, he thought we were on some kind of grand adventure. I had to remind him we were there on business, and that we needed to check into the hotel before doing anything else.”

“You should have seen McGee's face when the Director picked us to go,” her dad said with a laugh. “Oh, it was priceless.”

“What happened next?” Tali implored.

Her father crossed his arms and kicked his feet up on the coffee table in front of the couch. “Well, your mom convinced me that we needed to go drop our stuff off at the hotel first, so we caught a taxi. Secretly, I think she just wanted to freshen up, fix her hair and makeup and all that after being stuck on a plane for so long. She had a crush on me back then, you know.”

His eyes met her ima’s here, one eyebrow twitching upward teasingly.

“Oh, shut up,” Ima said, rolling her eyes.

“It's true!”

“Not a crush, that was earlier. This was something different.”

“Looove?” he singsonged, his grin infectious.

“Nooo,” Ima sang right back, matching his tone. “I do not know. Maybe. I do not think even I knew what it was at the time.”

“Well I was pretty in love with you,” he responded, practically radiating heart eyes in her direction. “Obviously.”

“You were not so obvious. I thought you were just being a goofball,” Ima spoke.

Any easy mistake, Tali thought.

“I was trying to flirt with you, but clearly I didn't succeed,” he corrected. “You know, Tali, your mom refused to go sightseeing with me.”

Tali turned to her mother, surprised. “What? Why?”

“We had a mission, I was trying to keep things professional,” she said in her defense. “It was in the best interest of our witness that we get a good night's rest and stay on task.”

Yeah, but that sounded boring.

Her father, evidently, agreed. “You're no fun,” he said with an exaggerated pout.

“I went to dinner with you, didn't I?” Ima asked.

He begrudgingly nodded. “She did go to dinner with me, I'll give her that.”

“And was the dinner not romantic?”

“Hard to find somewhere to eat that doesn't fit that description in this city,” he countered.

Ziva waved her hand in the air with finality. “There you go.”

Tali couldn’t help but feel that they’d gotten a little off track, but it was still fun to hear about their time together before she was born. She tried to picture them, younger than she’d ever seen them and probably a little wilder, too. She wanted to know more.

“So you went to dinner,” Tali summarized, nudging them to tell the rest of the story. “You didn't go anywhere else?”

Ima jumped in next. “Well, your father… He had rented a scooter—you know about the scooter,” she said, referring to the one in the picture Tali still kept on her nightstand. Tali nodded emphatically. This was one element of the story that had remained consistent throughout every retelling. Her mother continued, “He got us so lost on the way back to the hotel after dinner, that eventually I had to tell him to stop so I could ask someone for directions.”

At this, her father looked highly pleased with himself, his small smile concealing an even wider grin.

“Can I let you in on a little secret, sweetcheeks?” he said.

“Hm?”

“I wasn't lost. I knew exactly where we were the whole time.”

Ima’s jaw dropped open, and Tali thought her dad was lucky that Ima was all out of pillows on her side of the couch that could be used as ammunition.

“Tony! We drove around for at least an hour!” she chastised.

“Exactly! How else was I going to take you to look at the pretty lights around the city, or to all the big tourist sites?”

“I cannot believe you.”

“Come on, you loved it,” he said knowingly, tilting his head at her. “You got to put your arms around me for a whole hour.”

Ima raised an eyebrow and Tali could tell she was determinedly resisting the urge to laugh. “Are you sure that was not your motivation for it, then?”

“Oh, it absolutely was,” he answered easily. “If that was the only time I'd get to feel your arms around me, I was gonna make the most of it.”

Blegh, Tali thought. That was one thing that made her different from most kids in her class. Her parents really really loved each other. And they weren’t afraid to show it.

“I did enjoy it,” Ima admitted. “I liked that cologne you used to wear.”

“Well, that's good,” he said, smiling, “I practically drenched myself in it whenever I knew I'd be working in close quarters with you. I think maybe I hoped it would be like some kind of magic potion that would make you fall madly in love with me.”

“I guess it worked,” her mother teased with a shrug, which her father got a kick out of.

“I guess it did,” he said. “Though I hope you love me for more than just the way I smell. That cologne went out of production years ago.”

Ima’s eyes shone, equal parts charmed and amused. “I do. You know I do.”

His lips pulled back in a smile and he leaned forward, meeting Ima’s lips with his own right in front of Tali. She was practically squished between them, forced to endure their display of affection at close range.

“Would you two like to sit next to each other?” she asked, unimpressed. “I feel like I'm not even here.”

Her parents withdrew, her father suppressing a laugh. “Sorry, where were we?”

“Dinner,” she reminded him.

“Right,” he started. “Well, before dinner, we walked around for a bit, looked at all the little shops. That's when I took this picture of your Ima,” he said, holding out the one of her at the postcard stand. “Pretty good, huh?”

“I still think it would look better in black and white,” Ima spoke, looking at it with a critical eye.

“Maybe we could get a copy made, hang it on the wall,” her father offered, which elicited a chuckle.

“Now, I would not go that far.”

“Did you buy anything?” Tali asked, wondering what someone who didn’t live in the city might want to take home with them as a memento.

“Just some souvenirs,” Dad answered. “And a postcard for McGee. ‘Wish you were here!’”

Ima smiled. “Then we sat and ate dinner.”

“You looked so beautiful that day,” her father mused, gazing fondly at the photograph in hand. “I really do wish I had kissed you. I drove you right by the Eiffel Tower.”

“Which was nowhere near our hotel,” she reminded him.

“Pretty sure we've established that I was being sneaky.”

“What happened when you got back to the hotel?” Tali asked.

Ima looked suspiciously at her. “You are being very nosy today, motek. Why the sudden questions?”

Tali shrugged, keeping her face neutral. “I've just always wondered, that's all.”

Ima narrowed her eyes, not fully accepting that as an answer, but eventually, she continued. “Well, we actually had a nice hotel to stay at, for once. Usually when we traveled, at least in the States, NCIS would book us rooms at the cheapest motels they could find.”

“But not this time?”

She shook her head. “Not this time. They wanted us somewhere close to the embassy, where we would be picking up our witness.”

“Wow.” Their jobs sounded so cool, sometimes. Of course, she knew there was a lot of un-cool stuff they hadn’t told her, but what she did know sounded fun. She still sometimes had a hard time believing her boring old parents were once gun-toting federal agents, chasing down bad guys and saving the day. It seemed even more improbable that her Grampa Gibbs had done the same.

“You're skipping over a very important part of the story, Zee-vah,” her father said smugly, bringing her attention back to the tale. “Tell her what the front desk lady said when we tried to check in!”

Ima rolled her eyes and huffed. “Tony, I can tell you want to say this part, so why don't you just do it?”

He grinned excitedly. “Fine. I will. So we walked in this huge, beautiful lobby, right? And I went up to the desk and said, ‘Excuse me, ma’am. There should be two rooms under the name DiNozzo for us, please.’”

“Two rooms?” Tali asked.

“We were just friends back then, you see,” her abba explained. “Actually, we had been going through a bit of a rough patch. Friends might have been pushing it.”

Ima was quick to correct that. “You were my friend, Tony,” she said, looking at him kind of sadly.

He gave a nod. “Friends, then. But not together. And since we were there for work, it was agency policy for two agents of opposite gender to stay in separate rooms.”

That made sense, Tali supposed.

“But then…” Ima started.

“Hey, you said I could tell this part,” her father whined.

“Alright, then get to the point,” she waved him on.

“But then,” he repeated, “the woman at the desk said there was some misunderstanding with our reservation, and they only had one room for us.”

Misunderstanding? Or mischief on Uncle Tim's part as some form of payback for not getting to go to Paris, Tali wondered. She made a mental note to ask him the next time she talked to him.

“Would you have gotten in trouble?” she asked instead.

“We probably would have gotten a slap on the wrist from H.R., and a slap on the head from Gibbs. But no one ever found out,” her father answered.

From what Tali had heard from Uncle Tim, he knew something about what happened. But the specifics were out of his reach too. That’s where Tali came in.

“God, I was so in love with you,” her abba said, gazing lovingly at her ima. “It was pathetic. I don't know how you could have missed it. That mixup with the rooms was like my wildest dream coming true.”

“Tony…”

“I'm sorry if I drove you crazy that night,” he continued, ignoring her attempt to stop him. “I think I was a little drunk on the wine we'd had at dinner still.”

“You were not drunk. I know, because I let you drive us home. You were just… Tony.”

“Mm. Just me, huh?” he asked, smirking at her with a pleased look on his face.

“I found it endearing. Even if I wasn't quite sure how to handle the situation.”

“She offered to take the couch,” he informed Tali. “I told her that she was being ridiculous, that the ginormous bed was big enough for the two of us to share, but she tried to insist. Eventually, I threatened to take the couch myself, and she came to her senses.”

“If I had given up the couch to you, you would have complained about your back the whole flight home the next day,” Ima pointed out.

“Would not!”

Tali had to agree with her mother, here. “Dad, that does sound like you,” she said.

“Now you're ganging up on me! That's not fair!”

“Your father was the perfect gentleman that night, Tali,” Ima continued. “Believe me, I was surprised too. Not even one joke about our situation.”

Her dad seemed shocked at this information as well. “Really? I didn't make any jokes at all?” he asked.

Ima shook her head. “None that I can remember.”

“Huh,” he said. “I was probably too nervous myself to say anything.”

“Why were you nervous?” Tali asked.

“Because,” he started, draping his arm over the back of the couch and over Ima’s shoulder, “sharing a bed with someone—especially someone you're secretly pining for—is a very intimate thing. You kind of lose your sense of personal space. Whatever mask you put on during the day comes off, whether you want it to or not.”

“You guys wore masks during the day?” Tali questioned. She pictured superhero masks, or maybe the kind you wear when you’re sick.

“Not that kind of mask,” he corrected. “I mean the emotional kind, when you don't want other people to see how you're really feeling, so you pretend to feel something else. I used to do that a lot when I was younger, and not quite as wise as I am today.”

“As did I,” Ima agreed.

Tali’s face screwed up in confusion. Everything seemed so simple. Why did they make it seem so complicated?

“Why didn't you just tell each other the truth?” she asked.

This time, her mother answered. “We did, more than we told others at least. But that was a very difficult time for your father and I. We were just learning how to trust each other again.”

“Didn't you always trust each other? You were partners!”

Dad’s knee bumped companionably against her own. “You have to understand, Tali, our jobs were very difficult. I don't think you’re ready for the full story quite yet, but your mom had just been through something horrible and scary, and part of it was my fault.”

Ima’s face fell, and she shook her head. “Tony. It was not your fault,” she said.

“At least some of the blame was mine,” he insisted.

“No. Tony, do not think that way.”

He gave her a small, placating smile. “Alright, we'll agree to disagree,” he said. “But the point is, Tali, it was a very strange time for the two of us. Being completely honest with each other wasn't something we were particularly good at.”

“But we got through it,” she said, reaching for his hand.

He smiled, eyes watering as he lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her fingers. “Yes. Yes we did. We just danced around a lot of things we probably should have discussed much sooner.”

“Like the fact that you loved each other?” Tali offered.

Her dad gave a dry chuckle. “Oh yeah. That was the biggest one of all.”

“We were not ready for that conversation yet, motek,” Ima said, running a hand through Tali’s hair.

“But that didn't stop you from getting all cozy with me that night, did it, sweetheart?”

He waggled his eyebrows at her, teasing her playfully.

“I think that is probably enough for one day,” Ima said, trying her hardest not to smile at his antics. Her cheeks blossomed pink.

“No, let's keep going!” he said, spurring her on. “Look at you blushing, I can't believe you still get embarrassed talking about this!”

“I am not embarrassed, Tony,” she countered.

“You aren't? Could have fooled me. When I brought it up in the morning at that cafe, I thought you were going to strangle me for mentioning it in broad daylight.”

Tali giggled at this back-and-forth that they were so good at. It wasn’t often that her dad managed to get under Ima’s skin in this way, it was usually the other way around.

“I thought there was a mutual agreement never to speak of that night again,” Ima responded, her voice low.

“Well, I never agreed to any such thing.”

Things just got curiouser and curiouser, Tali thought, intrigued. “What? What happened?” she asked eagerly.

“Well, we started out the night happily keeping to our own sides of the bed,” her abba explained. “A nice, sensible space between us.”

“I was asleep, Tony, I cannot be held accountable for–”

“But then your ima, here, decided that I made a much better pillow than the one she was using, so I got a face full of Ziva hair.”

Tali laughed, her mother’s indignant attempts to correct him striking her as utterly hilarious.

“If you were awake, you could have very easily pushed me off you,” Ima argued.

“Now why would I do that?”

“Because, Tony, we were supposed to be keeping a respectable distance!”

“Counterpoint: Your hair smelled really good and, oh yeah, I was super in love with you.”

Ima huffed, having no comeback for such a line. “So you have mentioned.”

“Anyway, it was the best night's sleep I'd ever had,” her father finished. “Ziva?”

“What?”

“Would you agree?” he asked.

Ima blew out a breath, thinking it over. “Well, at the time, I often dealt with nightmares.”

“And?”

“And… You just want me to admit that I woke up in the middle of the night and didn't go back to my side of the bed, don't you?” Ima stared accusingly at Dad.

“Maybe.”

She rolled her eyes. “Alright, yes, I did. I was comfortable, and the dreams weren't as bad as usual for some reason.”

“Hmm, I wonder what that reason was,” Dad said sarcastically, tapping a finger thoughtfully on his chin. But then he looked at Ima again and smiled, his expression melting into one of adoration. “I wish you would have told me all this back then,” he said. “Could have saved both of us a lot of trouble.”

“No point in dwelling on it now,” Ima surmised, and he gently rubbed her shoulder before pulling back.

“When I woke up in the morning, she was still in my arms, conked out and snoring like a freight train,” he continued his tale.

“What a lovely sight that must have been,” Ima said sarcastically.

“It was!” he said. “I could have laid like that forever. I guess, now I get to.”

More mushy stuff. Great. “Okay, I get it. You love each other. Now is that it?” Tali asked.

Dad shrugged. “Pretty much. The next morning your mom got all awkward and tried to pretend we hadn't just spent the night cuddling in the most romantic city in the world,” he narrated.

“Meanwhile, your father woke up in an unnervingly pleasant mood and hurried off to go sightseeing, while I headed to a cafe for a late breakfast.”

Tali turned to her father. “What did you go see, dad?”

“Well, the embassy isn't too far from here, actually,” he spoke, glancing toward the window in their living room. “I drove around for a bit, past the Louvre, saw everything in that area. Took lots of pictures.”

“And then we met up at the cafe for a little while before it was time to pick up our witness,” Ima finished.

“That's when we got that picture taken. The one in your room.”

Her dad told her, sometimes, about the moment he realized she knew who he was. How that picture had been her connection to him before they met, and how it later connected her to her mother while she was away.

Their family’s story was a strange one. For a long time, she hadn't known the particulars, of course. But she was the only kid at school whose mom was off who-knows-where hiding from who-knows-who and doing who-knows-what. Not that she was allowed to talk about any of that. She only picked up bits and pieces when her dad would talk to Pop Pop after she'd gone to bed, and her memories of those conversations were pretty fuzzy.

She also never fully grasped the significance of the lack of pictures from when she was a baby, or the fact that she had been born in Israel, while her father lived in the U.S.

But now, she had begun to piece some things together, and it made her a little sad. She wondered if she would ever fully understand what had happened. Why, until she was six, they had never been a family together, all in one place.

The fact that her parents had been so close, and yet so far from their happily ending back then… Almost fifteen years ago, now…

“Is that why you wanted us to live in Paris?” she asked her father.

“I guess so,” he said, reaching for Ima's hand. “Part of me, I think, hoped we'd find her here right away. Like maybe that picture frame in your bag had been a message telling me where to meet her. But also, yes. We had nothing but good memories here. Seemed a good place for a fresh start.”

“The same cannot be said for the airplane we took back to America with our witness,” Ima joked, lightening the mood.

“Oh, no. Definitely not,” Dad agreed. “If I wanted to experience mortal peril on an airplane, I would just watch Liam Neeson in ‘Non-Stop.’ But then, that movie hadn't come out yet. Come to think of it, I feel like we should have been contacted for our expertise by the studio that made that movie. Do you think they could have given us writing credits?”

Tali sensed that the rest of the story would have to wait for another day. Most of their case stories were like that. Just a couple more years, then maybe she’d be old enough.

“Thanks for telling me,” she said, interrupting her father’s rambling about movies.

“Of course, neshama sheli,” Ima said, placing her hand on her knee.

“Anytime, kiddo. This was fun.”

“And?” Ima prompted.

“And,” he continued, “I’m sorry for making up stories when you were little. I should have told you the truth.”

Tali looked at him, smiling when his eyes met hers. She leaned into his side, and he lifted his arm, welcoming her in for an embrace.

“It’s okay,” she assured him. “I liked your stories. They were like fairy tales.”

He sighed. “If only it had really been like a fairy tale.”

“It is, though!” Tali said seriously, leaning back to face him. “You got your happily ever after, right?”

Dad’s eyes lifted to meet Ima’s, and they shared a smile, another one of their silent conversations.

“You are right, Tali,” Ima said, eyes shining with some deep emotion. “Maybe we had a fairy tale ending after all.”

-.-.-

Tali waited until her parents had gone to bed before sneaking out of her own room and into the kitchen. She found the phone out on the countertop where her father had left it, and quickly navigated to the right name in his contact list.

She pressed the call button and the phone rang. While she waited, she tried to mentally count backwards and estimate the time it was in D.C., but that was entirely too much math for this time of night.

Eventually, the line connected with a click.

“McGee,” the voice on the other end spoke.

“Uncle Tim!” Tali said in a whisper.

“Hey, Trouble!” he greeted jovially. “Whatcha got for me?”

Tali’s chest bubbled with giddiness, and she bit her lip to keep from shouting the answer.

“Uncle Tim, they told me everything!”

-.-.-

Tags <3 @tiva-fic-challenges @benedettabeby @butwhenthesuncameup @earanemith @hopeless-nostalgiac @indestinatus @loudlooks @mrsmungus @nicolem194 @putthekettleon @slippery-soapbox @tivafanfic @tivajunkie @tonysziva @whoa-myninja

#tivachallenges #ncis #tiva #tony dinozzo #ziva david #tiva fanfiction #ncis fanfiction #my fanfiction #ncis: tony & ziva #jet lag

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the-curse-of-neoclones · 1 year ago

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Moderneopets Artist Mistreatment

Edit as of 11/16/23 10:40 AM NST:

Removed names where I failed to do so before. I'm very sorry to the affected parties, this snowballed so far out of my intended scope.

Edit as of 11/16/23 5:30 PM NST

Please see this post for a small update.

As of 11/16/23 10:10 PM NST, Hazer the site owner has formally and publicly apologized to myself and Velu, the other affected artist. As far as I'm concerned he has officially handled the situation as best as he could, and I hold no further qualms with Moderneopets. I hope to hear of its management continuing in this direction.

The following post is left up for archival purposes only.

*****

Hello, I’m wren. I'm an artist responsible for some of the pet assets on the neoclone, Moderneopets. I'm just going to get into it.

Hazer was extremely lucky to somehow cultivate a dense group of largely professional artists to work together to make assets for his site. When it comes to his own management as a site runner, he’s largely hands-off of the art department, which is a good thing! If he can’t be active in the art panel enough to know what goes on in there, he shouldn’t be running it— we have many strong, capable artists on the team who are passionate about recreating the neopets style, who work together on every pet that has been released ever since critique became a requirement.

It makes sense that, with a project this large, Hazer should have to designate moderators to enforce rules when he is absent. Choosing to bring on moderators was also a good decision. Unfortunately, he chose poorly.

Art panel issues should have separate Art panel moderators to take care of them. People who are not overburdened with generic moderation duties from the many other channels of the server, for example. In the same vein, artists should not be moderators. When an artist has an issue with another artist, who happens to be a moderator (which has happened many times, with many people— If the mods actually open threads for all complaints they receive, they should have evidence of this & if they don’t they are not being truthful), the artist would likely not feel comfortable approaching that same artist-slash-moderator to complain about what happened. It breeds an aura of fear and discomfort any time there is an issue with an artist/mod, and that is why the two moderators on the team should have to choose one or the other if hazer wants to cultivate a healthy atmosphere in his panel.

I’ve created many pets for this website. Neopets has been a passion of mine since the third grade. I’m also one of those professional artists I mentioned— my work is also art, industry or otherwise. I care about breaking neopets down into their core, recognizable shapes. I care about keeping them on-model and in the spirit of the original TNT art team, with improvements made where I and the other panelists think they make sense. I have redlined for other artists to an even greater degree, just as other artists have redlined for me and helped me finalize each pet into something simply good: something that made sense to get put on a little passion project website for other people with a similar passion to enjoy. I found the panel to be a community of likeminded artists with which to discuss our favorite childhood petsite while we made art for a clone, as if we could pretend we were making art for neopets-dot-com. It was nice.

It wasn’t perfect, though. In fact, shortly after I joined in 2021 I took a hiatus because the art panel was fairly dead. I came back a little while later to see we had several new species, as well as an art director, and lots of activity! That was very exciting. Over the next year I would reach out to the panel or, if nobody was sure of how to proceed, I would reach out to the art director to propose ideas for how to make the panel a little more functional; quality of life updates, if you will. I don’t take credit for all of these alone, there were other artists with similar ideas all communicating to the director in private, but some examples:

A designated “collab” zone where artists could seek out other artists to complete pets with.

“The Purge,” in which the team was whittled down to ~25 current, active artists to refresh the team and allow for new artists to join.

“The Approval System,” which I first sat down with in my workshop (public to all artists) to hammer out the details with as many other artists as wanted to give their input— a method for pitching new ideas to eventually break through the “new species/color freeze” that had been plaguing us.

Speaking on the approval system: like most things that required Hazer’s direct input in the art team, it was left without response for a very long time. Artists with ideas for custom species or colors would occasionally murmur about their excitement for the system to get a look-over by hazer, to see if our approval system pitch would be approved. But hazer is busy, as we all know, and the pitch sat for a while. We had new & returning artists on the team to keep everyone busy.

What I would expect from a years-old panel of artists, when new additions arrive, would be some manner of tutorial. New artists would need to know the pipeline (here’s your workshop, you can post WIPs and anything else in there; here’s how you ping for critique, here are the spaces in which to ask for it; make sure you always ping before your work is submitted on-site), and there would likely be some acclimating on both sides. What I did not expect (but should have), was pushback from new artists on things that hadn’t had pushback in a long time. Why can’t [x] color be a posechange? Well, we’ve created many already and none of them were posechanges. Why can’t I use colored lineart? Well, that isn’t in line with the style standards set by this color; see, nobody else is coloring their lineart.

Suddenly there was a divide between veteran artists, the director, and the new blood. The divide felt greater when Hazer came to his new artist’s aid to say, approximately: “Eh, if someone wants to go above and beyond and make better art, they shouldn’t have to adhere to the guidelines.” Then he threw the art director under the bus for not somehow knowing that his intentions were always to keep the panel loose and unstructured. But don’t worry, that isn’t the first bus and won’t be the last.

My personal investment in the panel waned around that time. I think a structured “work” environment with easily accessible rules and deadlines is necessary to any project of this size. If we didn’t want to enforce color standards, nor prioritize certain colors for release, and anyone could just submit whatever Nice Art they wanted, why not open it up so any user could submit pet art? Why have a panel at all? Isn’t Hazer taking any opportunity to dunk on Leopets because he wants his site to be better? How is this different?

But I stuck around. This was a hobby I really enjoyed, after all, and I really believed it could get better. It had a good core, and despite my grievances with individual artists, none of them were bad people.

But I noticed some trends. New artists would receive feedback that they didn’t agree with and retaliate by bringing in their emotions or personal preferences. Any disagreement where multiple veteran artists stepped in to say their piece would escalate to the point of very long messages on both sides, and would need to be left to hazer to give a final input. Often he didn’t come around to it, because he’s busy, as we know. I didn’t step in to every argument; they became cyclical after a while, and I didn’t have the time or energy to spend simply tapping the proverbial sign (or style sheet). I would try to give positive suggestions when I could, for example: I don’t think this color needs another alt for just one single design, but we did talk about eventually making this color that your design would fit into really well.

I’ve done my time having arguments on the internet. I really just want an art environment where the rules are set and people actually enjoy following them, because I do— I see art rules as helpful guidelines at best and obstacles to cleverly navigate at worst, which is still fun. But of course not everyone is going to feel the same way, that’s normal; that’s life.

On 11/9 I was given this message by Hazer:

It reads:

Hello wren,

I am reaching out to you today to inform you that effective immediately you are being dismissed from the Artist and Consultant Panels. This decision has been reached through discussions and based on repeated offences in the form of user harassment and subjecting the panels to a toxic atmosphere, after multiple reports and concerns brought up to us by other users.

While we understand concerns regarding panel management, there is a distinct difference between criticising and condeming the way the panel does things and criticising and condeming users that are on the panel, and we believe this line has been crossed one too many times, further supported by concerns brought to us.

We appreciate the passion and drive of our team—all of them—and we understand you have been very passionate about the panel. Given some of the messages we see, we have also concluded that due to things in the panel not working out as you have wished, it has caused you much stress and upset as well, which we do not want. All in all, we've decided that the atmosphere of the panel and your own enjoyment of the website are hampered by your presence on it. Because of this, we have decided it is best to have you part ways with the staff sections of the website.

Effective immediately after this message, we will be permanently removing you from the panels. While normally we do a temporary removal, in this case we've seen that your compatability with our management and handling of the panel will not improve, and it will just bring stress to both sides.

We understand you have put a lot of passion into the projects you have been working on for release in Moderneopets, and in lieu of that, we offer you the option of having the project(s) still be released even after dismissal. Rewards will still be granted for releases per usual, and credit will still be given. If you decide, due to dismissal, you do not want your unreleased work to be released on Moderneopets, simply state it as such, and we will discard all progress on projects you have been working on to respect those wishes.

This decision is final and will not be revoked.

Best wishes to you,

The Moderneopets Team

[end caption]

My response:

It reads:

No warnings huh?

[end caption]

Hazer didn’t have an answer for me. I was already removed from the panel.

This came as a shock. I’d been there for over two years, I felt I had a good rapport with the other artists, I felt I’d been a helpful and active addition to the team. Like I said, I’ve done my time having arguments on the internet… what toxic behavior? Discussions over style guides? Giving redlines to people with permission? Working with the whole team to bolster several new color releases? I had an entire species that Hazer wanted ready to go since March— I just pushed through the Swamp Gas release, I just created the Mystical alt?

No warnings?

Let me reiterate: I have never been spoken to by any staff about my behavior. Hazer, his then-four moderators— none of them have ever been in my DMs to issue a warning. I have spoken TO the mods about others’ behaviors, and nothing ever came of it. The one time (and I mention this for full transparency only) the art director came to talk to me about something I said, it was stated clearly that it was not a warning, and even so I adjusted my behavior around said issue accordingly. And that was well before the purge.

But, don’t take my word for it. Here it is from hazer himself, speaking over his mods who were busy telling the rest of the panel that they always issue warnings:

It reads:

No in this case I do agree that this has been an abrupt situation and I understand the blind-sided-ness of it. No official warnings were given out regarding the actions that resulted in the removal of artists today and that’s on fault of myself and deebs not working things out properly despite the moderation team bringing issues to a us a few times – also due to our lack of availability recently. [end caption]

So… What happened? Well… here it is from Hazer, in longform:

For those who use screen readers, above are several enormous discord screenshots; I've placed it in a paste bin here: https://pastebin.com/dHLiBRTF

Two other artists immediately stepped down. Hazer admits here in his message that he and the mods had multiple tickets opened about my behavior, that they had known they wanted to remove me. They never gave a warning, never talked to me until the moment of my dismissal, but they had known it was coming for months?

Why did Hazer and his gang of mods let me continue working on art for their panel? Why did they let me work so hard to pull Swamp Gas together for an official release? Why did they let me put together a whole custom Alt and workshop it for so long? I’ve been active this whole time. Why did you let me keep working if you knew you wanted me gone?

I am a professional artist. My work is art. Hazer made the knowing decision to exploit my time and effort for his website. He’s not paying me, he’s not paying any of us. It’s volunteer work. But I did not volunteer to be mistreated like this. To not even be given a chance to defend myself. To him, artists are disposable. To him, if someone has worked on your team for years but speaks up when your friend tries to overturn the system, even civil discussion is cause for disposal. Civil discussion negates years of effort, passion, time and care.

I didn’t have to make art for you, Hazer. And you don’t deserve the team you have. How many artists have voiced their discomfort with your actions? How many artists are taking a break from the panel because of how you handled this? Ah, wait, you wouldn’t know… you’re busy.

Hazer and his mod team are just another corrupt group of individuals unfortunately heading what could have been a fun and promising petsite. Everyone who speaks praise of modneo does it by and large because of the new and unique art. Hazer was extremely lucky to cultivate a dense group of largely professional artists to work together to make assets for his site.

If Hazer wants to show any sign of his potential to be a better person, I believe he needs to formally apologize to his site for the misuse of his power and the mistreatment and exploitation of artists on his team. He needs to apologize to you, the players of his game, the subscribers to his patreon, for allowing this to happen under his watch and under his word. You know you fucked up, hazer. You shouldn’t have sided with your friend without any actual evidence of misconduct. You shouldn’t have spoken about me like I was a toxic, subhuman hindrance to your art team. You shouldn’t have treated me like that. I didn’t deserve it. None of us did. You can apologize to me and the other lost artists publicly.

#moderneopets #virtu.pet #grundos cafe #neopets #neotag #modneo #moderneo

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flyingfabio · 6 months ago

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le mans thoughts dump!!!

sorry it’s gonna be a picture-less dump because i wasn’t prepared and i only had only my phone with shitty camera quality… also this going to be a mess. first general remarks and then a fabio special part of course… under a read more because i think it’s gonna be longgg

general remarks about the event

well not a surprise but le mans is CRAZY. so many bikes so many people and the atmosphere… you don’t need beer or anything else to feel PUMPED there

the weather was GREAT and i felt it made the experience so enjoyable. i wore long jeans and big tshirts and applied sunscreen and spent time in the grandstands away from the sun and yet my face is red. i have a sunburn on my chin. MY CHIN.

i didn’t feel unsafe or witness anything gross during my time there. important to mention that i was with my brother and didn’t camp on site so the experience can definitely be different for others. there ARE overly drunk people at the circuit and some entitled people smoking weed with families with kids nearby…

as for the camping sites you could see them from the circuit and HEAR them from afar and it is WILD. never in my life i think i would be capable to camp there lmao

so many things to do at the venue: the village, fanzones, a stunt show, fireworks… you can feel how this gp is organized as a whole experience for the fans

did i mention a lot of people?

obviously some things to improve especially the management of the entrances/exit points of the circuit but with so many people at a venue that is not that big i can understand the struggle. maybe they need to think about implementing a limit for the attendance at some point

i had grandstands tickets and it was really enjoyable to have a place with shade to sit down at any moment though i LOVED going to sit on the grass trackside to watch the bikes, especially with the warm weather. sad that we only had time to watch from only a few places at the last turns of the circuit (raccordement, “s” bleus, chemin aux boeufs). would have loved to sit at garage vert for example.. we only did this on friday and saturday because we thought sunday would be too crowded. people literally come at 6-7 am to get the best spots!

the NOISE. thank god i brought my earplugs with noise reduction. the bikes are very loud on their own obviously, but if you are trackside you can watch without ear protection easily. but in the grandstands on the straight? HELL NO! i think it’s very special to le mans where the place is acting like a “soundbox”, amplifying the sound

where we sat in the grandstand we could see the canal+ booth from the other side of the straight. at some point i was like wait a min… isn’t that maverick and rivola out there? and i was right, my bro was shocked i could recognize them from their backs and so far away… also guessed raul, miguel and lin jarvis. maybe i’m too deep in the motogp hole? also recognized the back of a fabio cut-out that people had installed at the bottom of our grandstand but this is a given i guess

idk where to put that but i saw pecco’s mascot so many times i’m starting to think there are actually two of them

also the speaker at the circuit was shit. he flopped so many times

the races

overall good races!

moto3 was good, especially because they were close and there were overtakes for the win at the end

moto2 was meh, some good battles in the pack but the race was over after lap one... probably was the only one looking for tony at every lap and cheering for him. rude speakers saying how he was fighting for the championship last year and how he is struggling this year. bitch it's not his fault that speedups are suddenly rocketships 😭

motogp sprint… it’s better that i don’t talk about it. thank you acosta for the overtaking crumbs

motogp race!! i thought it would be a repeat of the sprint, but it turned out to be such a good battle at the front! the crowd went NUTS when martin and then marc overtook pecco. obviously it’s so nice to get battles like these at the front for the win, but this doesn’t erase the fact that it’s still ducati only. and for me motogp CAN'T be at its best unless it’s different brands fighting it out

you know my distaste for the sprints, but i have to admit it adds something to the experience at the track, especially for casual fans like my brother. for me i really enjoyed friday, seeing the different bikes go around the track and observing the different riding styles. my brother much more enjoyed saturday and sunday when there was more “at stake”. this sprint was shit though

my grandstand was… something lmao. a mix of marc truthers and booers. pecco haters who had beef with the pecco grandstand next to us lmao. pecco grandstand started to cheer for pecco after people clapped when the speaker announced martin as the poleman… you can imagine they weren’t as loud after the race lmao 😭

the japanese bikes… it’s so depressing to see irl you have no idea. this weekend basically all of them (except fabio) were hanging out at the end of grid with augusto fernandez...

the marini case is even worse man. it’s so bad that i think i had left my grandstand before he even crossed the finish line on sunday and i’m not even kidding (many people were leaving just after the winner arrived to try to get out of the circuit quickly)

pedro acosta was probably the most applauded after the frenchies and marc

that jorge martin guy is REAL fast on a ducati i’m afraid

marc marquez is a showman

weird personal observation but i was less stressed before the race start than i am when i’m watching on tv

FABIOOOOOOOOO

as i said last year, he really is his people’s DARLING

but first about his performance this weekend. INSANE. straight to q2 with an insane lap. with fellow fabio truther lady sat next to me we held our breath until the very end of the session… then during q2 i remember thinking well let’s see fabio qualify p12 now and then when he pushed that tractor and it got him to p6 at some point? my jaw was on the floor and everyone around cheered

the sunday race… man. i felt it IN MY BONES that fabio would crash at some point. i knew it when he was just in front of aleix and he was manhandling that bike in every direction just to stay in front. then i saw that he had managed to make a small gap to aleix and i thought “he wants too much and he’s overriding it too much…” next when the yellow flag alert appeared i knew…

it was clear that he wanted to give his everything this whole weekend, no matter how shit the bike was. it was no coincidence that the cross necklace was back this weekend…

even my brother who is the casual of casuals noticed the difference of riding style. said that it was obvious how much fabio was fighting the bike compared to others

the special livery. my god it was SO beautiful on camera and irl… the bike looked so good on the track and fabio looked radiant in those leathers. i tried the special le mans cap but it was a flat brim which i don’t like very much and it looked ugly on me so i bought this baby instead

i was pleasantly surprised not to hear any fabio slander during the entire weekend. when you look at the comment from moto french “fans” on facebook it’s always full of hate (he only thinks about money, he is too “feminine” or whatever bullshit, homophobic shit etc.) even with his special livery (shit like omg can you believe he is a MAN and likes to wear PINK???) i heard nothing. probably for the best or i was ready to throw hands

rins didn’t come with fabio on stage in fanzone for the “meeting with riders” event and it’s understandable poor guy probably wouldn’t have had any question for him

it’s crazy how fabio’s voice sounds different to me irl. at some point i thought he sounded like mbappé 😭

when asked who was his favorite rider (the question didn’t mention past or present, but then the host said well let’s go from the current riders) fabio answered marc marquez is a legend of the sport. also joked don’t worry valentino fans lmao

got asked if he thinks there are too many ducatis on the grid. you can imagine the reaction of the crowd lol. then said that “yamaha and myself are working hard to have two more yamahas on the grid… and two less ducatis smirks”

someone asked him the obvious question of why he stayed at yamaha. answered how he understands why people don’t understand his choice right now, but that they will in the coming few weeks and right there i believed him. this man could sell me the moon

hardcore fans who take this rare opportunity to ask fabio to sign their fabio related tattoo will never fail to make me cringe but what’s way worse is the man who thought himself entitled to ask fabio about his private life in front of everyone and how “we never see the many women who are after him” posted there (do you get the gross implication there?) anyways. the cunt got booed and fabio got applauded when he answered that he has the right to keep some parts of his life private while he already shares many things with the fans

maybe i will conclude on this but going there you understand why yamaha had to do everything to keep fabio. going beyond the performance element which is obvious, fabio’s marketing power is insane. when fans were asked about their favorite brand, yamaha got the most applause. i didn’t count but i think the yamaha/fabio merch was the most worn among fans (maybe alongside with vr46 lol). and like yeah we’re in france so obviously it’s more visible but having managed to keep the face of their brand is essential in rough times like these. take honda for example, it’s like they weren’t even there this weekend, even with zarco riding one…

probably forgot many things but i think that’s enough lol. i’m already missing it (thank god i took this day off to recover) and i will certainly go again in the future!! (maybe not every year because it’s A LOT though)

#motogp #fabio quartararo #elie at le mans #elie.txt #tagging fabio because there is a strong focus on him obvs #then going back to work tomorrow... what if i kms

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