#online store script

[subjectsix]

I don't know I'm not done talking about it. It's insane that I can't just uninstall Edge or Copilot. That websites require my phone number to sign up. That people share their contacts to find their friends on social media.

I wouldn't use an adblocker if ads were just banners on the side funding a website I enjoy using and want to support. Ads pop up invasively and fill my whole screen, I misclick and get warped away to another page just for trying to read an article or get a recipe.

Every app shouldn't be like every other app. Instagram didn't need reels and a shop. TikTok doesn't need a store. Instagram doesn't need to be connected to Facebook. I don't want my apps to do everything, I want a hub for a specific thing, and I'll go to that place accordingly.

I love discord, but so much information gets lost to it. I don't want to join to view things. I want to lurk on forums. I want to be a user who can log in and join a conversation by replying to a thread, even if that conversation was two days ago. I know discord has threads, it's not the same. I don't want to have to verify my account with a phone number. I understand safety and digital concerns, but I'm concerned about information like that with leaks everywhere, even with password managers.

I shouldn't have to pay subscriptions to use services and get locked out of old versions. My old disk copy of photoshop should work. I should want to upgrade eventually because I like photoshop and supporting the business. Adobe is a whole other can of worms here.

Streaming is so splintered across everything. Shows release so fast. Things don't get physical releases. I can't stream a movie I own digitally to friends because the share-screen blocks it, even though I own two digital copies, even though I own a physical copy.

I have an iPod, and I had to install a third party OS to easily put my music on it without having to tangle with iTunes. Spotify bricked hardware I purchased because they were unwillingly to upkeep it. They don't pay their artists. iTunes isn't even iTunes anymore and Apple struggles to upkeep it.

My TV shows me ads on the home screen. My dad lost access to eBook he purchased because they were digital and got revoked by the company distributing them. Hitman 1-3 only runs online most of the time. Flash died and is staying alive because people love it and made efforts to keep it up.

I have to click "not now" and can't click "no". I don't just get emails, they want to text me to purchase things online too. My windows start search bar searches online, not just my computer. Everything is blindly called an app now. Everything wants me to upload to the cloud. These are good tools! But why am I forced to use them! Why am I not allowed to own or control them?

No more!!!!! I love my iPod with so much storage and FLAC files. I love having all my fics on my harddrive. I love having USBs and backups. I love running scripts to gut suck stuff out of my Windows computer I don't want that spies on me. I love having forums. I love sending letters. I love neocities and webpages and webrings. I will not be scanning QR codes. Please hand me a physical menu. If I didn't need a smartphone for work I'd get a "dumb" phone so fast. I want things to have buttons. I want to use a mouse. I want replaceable batteries. I want the right to repair. I grew up online and I won't forget how it was!

[allclonescript]

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[loregoddess]

callback to my English teacher my freshman year of high school, who was honestly one of the best teachers I had for English, but had made the unfortunate decision to have all the vocab quizzes be Exact Memorization--that is, we had to memorize the definition word-for-word, along with the part of speech. Well, I can't remember things word-for-word, but I found a way to cheat the part of speech aspect of the quizzes, which were worth a decent number of points, so I just resigned myself to not doing very well on the quizzes but trying anyhow. We also had to grade each others quizzes, which was BS but w/e, so cue some poor classmate of mine reading out what I'd written for one of the quizzes to see if I'd get points, bc I couldn't remember the word for the definition and listed instead every possible synonym I knew (which was A Lot), and the teacher standing there for a moment before saying something like, "That was like a blind man with a machine gun in a fire. Give them half a point."

[prameethsd]

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The meat industry is vast and demands efficient management of various aspects. Enter online mobile solutions, specifically designed for the meat delivery landscape. These apps cater to the diverse needs of both customers and service providers, offering unparalleled convenience and a host of advantages that go beyond mere transactional ease.

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[margecouture]

five hobbies you should have 🎧

hobbies play a significant role in enriching our lives. they provide inspiration and make good use of your time and energy. here’s 5 types of hobbies that you should include in your daily life:

one to keep you creative. having a creative hobby is like giving your brain a delightful playground where it can roam free and explore new ideas. these types of hobbies provide stress relief and self expression, as well as growing in your skills and confidence. suggestions include: drawing or sketching, painting, baking or cooking, editing, creative writing or scripting, gardening, & crafting projects like sewing, making jewelry, knitting.

one to build knowledge. having a hobby that builds knowledge is incredibly valuable and helpful. hobbies of this type keep your mind active and focused. it is rewarding to reap the benefits of engaging in these hobbies, benefits like enjoyment, fulfillment, success, and problem solving skills. suggestions include: reading books, articles or journals, watching inspirational YouTube videos, learning a new language, studying history or subjects, & blogging.

one to evolve mindset. having a hobby that evolves your mindset is key to carrying out a successful life. these hobbies broaden your perspective, give you confidence in challenges, and make you more open to experience. suggestions include: traveling and exploring, volunteering or helping others, reading self help books, listening to a daily podcast, & time alone in meditation.

one to keep you in shape. hobbies that involve physical activity are helpful for staying healthy and maintaining a clear mind. they are fun ways to stay active, boost your energy levels, and improve your mood. suggestions include: yoga and pilates exercises, running or taking a light jog daily, dancing to your favorite tunes, cycling, & sports like tennis and swimming. weekly meal prepping is also a fun hobby!

one to make money. hobbies that make you money provide many benefits like financial security, turning your skills and passions into a source of income, and give you personal fulfillment. these hobbies also give you valuable experience and attract opportunities for expansion. suggestions include: running a blog, setting up an online store for products or services, selling handmade items, content creation for social media, reading financial literacy books, & working a job you enjoy.

if you desire to have less stress, improved mental health and better confidence, i encourage you to consider these 5 hobbies and make time for one of each type every day. they all provide a positive outlet to escape from daily pressures, ultimately contributing to a more fulfilling life. anything is possible! 🌱

[sticksandsharks]

congratulations to the newly wed couple

thank you to everyone who has not only purchased the comic, but also had kind words to say in tags and through asks!! I am away for holiday for most of this month, and I have been/will be largely offline on account of this*-- but please know that my heart is incredibly full to know people like this story!!

(*any posts that go up here have been scheduled before I left)

A few recurring questions I'll answer here real quick:

Will Sacred Bodies have a physical print? Yes! I would like to self-publish this book after the fair is concluded and sell it at conventions and through my online store.

What are the Ba'It based off of? Their body/limb plan is based on pteradons!! with some bat and bird anatomy thrown in. Garaang are semi-bipedal so that makes the silhouette even weirder, but you see some quadrupedal stances in the comic and it might make more sense then. I don't want to post or talk too much about some of the minutae of their design, as it is part of the story itself. :}

What medium did you use for the comic? It's all digital; I used Clip Studio Paint to draw the entire thing. I use the base watercolour and design pencil brushes that come with the programme. How long did it take you to make the comic? It's a little hard to estimate-- initial ideas, visdev and writing drafts were intermitent at the start of the year; once I landed on the story, finalising the script would've taken no longer than a week of recurring writing and editing. It's the actual drawing that takes forever, unfortunately. I started thumbnailing around April, and pencilling, colours and painting were a 10-11 hour work-day commitment for most of June and July. (I lost a lot of work-time in May cause I fell ill, womp womp). I'd probably say it was 4 - 5 months of labour. Are you going to write more stories in this world? I would really like to! I have a lot of ideas rattling in my head for the Valley of the World-- the place that the folk of the Spire have escaped. That being said, I have a whole graphic novel to finish first! It has been pushed back on account (but not exclusively because) of me working on my SBCF entries the last couple years, and I don't want to neglect it any further!! (it's 350+ full colour pages though so it was always going to be a huge undertaking)

Thank you again for the outpouring of enthusiasm and support; it means the world!

[4eversleep1ng]

“YOU ARE AN OUTFIT REPEATER”

☆ Fashion things to script for your dr ☆

If you copy an outfit from Pinterest no one will realise it/or it will be replaced with another outfit and everyone will think yours is original.

Everyone is obsessed with your fashion style because of how well you look in every colour.

You know which colours look appealing together and which don’t.

IF you get stains it’ll never be permanent and will be extremely easy to wash out. Plus it won’t be noticeable.

Your outfits will never be itchy or uncomfortable, everything you own feels as if you’re wearing pyjamas.

No one really cares or notices if you repeat an outfit.

Sweat stains will never show no matter how hot it is/your clothes are always the temperature you want them to be. Cold in the summer and hot in the winter.

You always know what to pair with your outfit to give it that ‘final touch’ (accessories, which shoes, etc).

Every place you go to will have your size in stock.

If you see something cute online the nearest store by you will have it.

^ When you see something in the store it will always be in a comfortable texture and the colour you want it to be.

Labels don’t exist (my mortal enemy fr).

All companies make their clothes high quality snd pay their workers well.

Well known companies pay their workers well.

+ They aren’t only obsessed with famous influencers.

Your clothes will never rip or tear no matter how long you’ve had them.

Fashion trends you hate don’t last long.

Everyone has original fashion styles and it never gets watered down on any media platform.

You always know what outfits to wear for specific events.

A/N: first post and not great at writing so sorry if it’s bad 😅

[babybl00s]

all i need

warnings: smut, kiss kiss fall in love, dry humping (hell yeah) mdni 18+, explicit language etc.

summary: you’ve been working as congressman barnes’ assistant since the start of his campaign. bob has had a thing for you since you showed up one night, giving barnes hell for leaving alpine at your door. he’s smitten, you’re kind of oblivious, and it all comes to a head when bucky has to head out for another mission. (f!reader)

author's note: this is my first smut fic go easy on me. may write a part two to this idk. crossposted on ao3!

It seems like the past few weeks have been filled with nothing but endless stacks of paperwork. You wagered that if you’d stack them all together it’d rival the size of the Empire State Building. You’re so delirious from lack of sleep one night that you almost attempt to test that theory. the thought of it toppling over and you having to reorganize it sobered you up pretty quick, though.

Regardless, it’s a lot. And if it’s not paperwork, it’s responding to emails, and if it’s not responding to emails, it’s warding off the press so your boss doesn’t stumble over his words. Again. He’s gotten better at it, actually, once you’ve given him a bare-bones script of how to give neutral responses that make it seem like he’s saying something of value. Typical politician jargon.

The soft hum of the office today is appreciated. You’d gotten through a bulk of your work last night, so you only have to sift through a couple of files today. Your cubicle is directly in front of Bucky’s office, the paneling high enough to give you some privacy but low enough that you can catch someone slacking off. Decorated with fairy lights and photos of your friends, your dog Ladybug, one of you and Bucky the day he got sworn in. A splash of color in this otherwise grey hellscape.

It’s busy, as it usually is, but not the type of busy that demands frequent coffee runs, or god forbid another all-nighter. The pace is steady, consistent. Your phone buzzes, and you take a quick peek at the screen - Bucky has a meeting in half an hour. You sigh, capping the end of your highlighter and neatly organizing the stack of papers before you. You’d hoped that you didn’t have to bring work home with you again, but that probably was asking too much. 

The file containing information about today’s meeting and Bucky’s talking points are stored securely in the bottom drawer of your desk, which you pull out. You stand, clutching the file to your chest, smoothing out the folds of your skirt and tugging it so it’s properly mid-thigh. You grab your purse and stuff it with the rest of the paperwork you’d been working on, careful not to crease anything. 

Bucky’s at his desk when you peer through the glass, preparing his own notes for the meeting. Two quick raps at the door gather his attention, and he motions for you to enter when he sees it’s you. 

“You have a meeting in 30,” you tell him as you hand the file over to him.

“Thanks,” he gruffs, flipping through the pages. A sense of pride swells within you. You keep the door open as he grabs his stuff, letting it shut behind you as he walks through the office. 

You peruse through his schedule as you follow him to the town car. “After that you have lunch with Congresswomanman Diaz; she’s nice, her wife’s a preschool teacher and they have three kids.”

He leans his head back against the headrest, eyes closed, but you know he’s still listening. You’ve been working for Bucky since the start of his campaign, which was just about a year ago now. You were fresh out of grad-school, desperate for a job. You’d stumbled on an ad online, not expecting much. Imagine your surprise when you went in for the interview and it was freakin’ James Buchanan Barnes in front of you. 

(You’d almost squealed like a schoolgirl in front of him, but you kept your cool. You didn’t want your potential boss to know you had a crush on him when you were younger).

You’d landed the job and you’re here, a year later, helping keep him afloat and bridging the gap between him and his constituents. He’s a chill boss, lets you take the day off whenever you want (although, he has to kinda force you to take those breaks). He actually cares about the people of Brooklyn, fights for them. Listens to your advice, comes to you with questions. Trusts you to keep an eye on his cat, Alpine, when he’s on missions.

It’s a pretty solid gig.

“We’re here,” you announce as the car comes to a stop. He’s the first to hop out of, opening your door for you before you can even unbuckle yourself. You thank him as you step out, smoothing your skirt as you shoulder your bag on. 

Thankfully, his meeting goes by pretty smoothly. He follows your talking points and you’re able to sit on the side and take a couple of notes on your laptop. 

He drops you off at the office before his lunch with Congresswoman Diaz. You take the time to have a quick bite yourself before diving back into work.

It’s the end of the workday and the sun is setting. Bucky never came back from his lunch but you’re not surprised; he tends to go home after he’s had a meeting anyways. Most of the office headed out a bit early too, having finished their work. The office is quieter now, but you’ve just wrapped up the final stack of paperwork so you can finally head home with a clear mind and probably a good night’s rest.

The bus ride to your apartment in Bushwick is uneventful. You see a couple of familiar faces and give them polite smiles, but otherwise mind your business until you reach your stop.

When you enter the lobby, you find that the elevator is busted for like, the millionth time this month. You sigh. It could be worse; you’re on the third floor, which isn’t too bad. But you’ve been wearing these heels all day and they’re starting to pinch your feet. You trek along anyways, wincing until you reach the final step.

Your phone buzzes in your hand. It’s Joaquin, the Falcon (!!!) himself asking if you could relay a message to Bucky. You’re halfway through your message when you see it, sitting at your front door.

Alpine’s carrier. With Alpine in it, meowing at you.

Oh, you could kill Bucky. 

You hit send on your message to Joaquin. Muttering under your breath as you unlock your front door, picking up Alpine as you step into your apartment. You set her on your couch, opening her carrier and watching as she steps out and gives a big stretch, scratching up your furniture like she owns the place. 

The soft sound of nails along your floorboard makes your ears perk up. You feel Ladybug’s form pressing along your thighs, her body wiggling in excitement.

“Hi, Lady,” you coo, turning to greet her appropriately. She pants, wagging her tail in excitement.

You’d adopted her from the shelter not long after you began working for Bucky. A tiny black puppy, shivering in fear in the corner of her kennel. Unusual for a Lab. She pulled at your heartstrings and although you swore you wouldn’t take in a puppy, she had won you over. She’s been thriving at your side ever since.

Luckily, she was still a puppy when you started cat-sitting for Bucky, so she loves the cat like her own. Alpine tolerates her, but you don’t blame her. Ladybug can be a lot sometimes.

Unluckily for Bucky, you were going to murder him. 

Cat sitting Alpine was supposed to have been a one-time deal. Months ago, he had dropped the cat off at your doorstep with a bag of her food and nothing else. No note, no text. Nothing. You hadn’t even known he was dropping her off in the first place. You’d grown up with cats, so you knew how to care for her. So it was fine, in that aspect. Ladybug was a quick learner, so that wasn’t a problem either. 

What you did not appreciate, however, was the lack of communication from Bucky.

So, after a long day of writing emails and drafting up speeches for him, you were fed up. You (stupidly) had left your apartment and drove all the way to Downtown Manhattan, to the Watchtower. Because if he wasn’t at his apartment in Brooklyn, this was the next best guess.

And there he was, lounged up on the sofa with the other members of The New Avengers. Watching a goddamn movie.

But you didn’t see that; you saw red. You had torn Bucky a new one, right there, in front of everyone. Telling him how irresponsible it was, leaving his cat unattended on your doorstep. You, a new grad, tearing into the Winter Soldier himself. When the anger faded you had been mortified, mentally preparing for the worst. Fired. Killed. You were so embarrassed, you’d hoped it was the latter.

Alexei, the Red Guardian, had broken the silence with his booming laughter. “Oh, Winter Soldier, you are so shaken. Like little kitten left out in the cold. Never seen you so scared.” He’d wiped a tear from his eye, body still shaking with laughter. “That was good.”

Bucky had explained to you he had a mission the next day, and didn’t have anyone to watch Alpine. It had slipped his mind. He promised to never do that again, and you kept your job (somehow). 

He hadn’t done it again. Until now.

You should probably let it go. Would, normally. But you’re running on fumes and obviously not thinking clearly because somehow you’ve found yourself at the Watchtower. Again.

You tap your foot impatiently as the elevator brings you to their common room. You can already see him now, sprawled out on the couch sipping on a beer. And if he wasn’t there then you’d march to his bedroom and give him a piece of your mind.

“Barnes,” you fumed as you step out, “what have I told you about -”

You pause. Bucky’s not here. But the figure on the couch jumps at your entrance and turns to you with wide eyes.

“H-hey. Hi,” Bob stutters out, “you’re - wow, um - you’re here.” He stands up and picks up the remote from somewhere on the couch and pauses the movie he’s watching.

Your shoulders drop, and a smile replaces the frown you’d been sporting. “Hey, Bob,” you greet sweetly. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. I was…looking for Bucky. He left Alpine at my place. Without telling me. Again.”

Bob gives you a nod, understanding. He had been there the first time you blew up on Bucky. Kinda hard to forget. But you’d been so terrified afterwards that you didn’t really pay much attention to your surroundings. 

But then he was kinda always there, not that you minded. A little awkward, but always so kind to you. Cute, too, which was definitely a bonus. Had that nerdy white boy charm that you definitely fell victim to many times in your life. You’d climb him like a tree if he let you.

You haven’t spent that much one-on-one time with him, given your job. And him being a superhero-in-training, or whatever limbo he’s in right now. But the time you have spent with him showed you he was thoughtful, caring. Came to visit Bucky a few times, bringing snacks for him and the whole office. He’d always sneak in a couple more of your favorites, for you to take home and enjoy later, which you were ever so grateful for. 

Sometimes you’d come by the tower, to drop off Bucky’s dry cleaning or an important file he’d left on the desk that he’d need for tomorrow morning’s meeting. And Bob would be there, either in the kitchen whipping up something to eat or by the bookshelf by the floor-to-ceiling windows, sitting on a beanbag chair you’re sure Bucky had you buy. He’d always stop what he was doing, wave to you shyly and pair it with a ‘hi’.

You’re aware of what he’s done. What he…is. A man with more power than the Avengers combined. The guy who made the entire island of Manhattan experience their worst nightmares on repeat. The Blackout.

But you look at him now, in his dark grey sweats and black oversized pullover and a messy head of brown curls and…you can’t see anyone else but Bob. Sweet, soft-spoken Bob.

“He’s not here. They, uh, left. Last minute mission. It’s - it’s just me.” His lips curl up into a smile, but he ducks his head down as if he’s afraid to look at you. You don’t blame him, you kinda stormed in like a bat out of hell.

You sigh, shifting on your feet. You ran all the way over here (lie, you drove here) to give Bucky hell and he’s not even here. And now you’re standing in front of Bob, in your work uniform, probably looking like a lunatic. Ugh. “Any chance he’s coming back soon enough for me to kick his ass?”

That gets a laugh out of him. “I dunno. Maybe. But he’s probably realized by now what he did, right? So he might not be back tonight if he knows that - that you’ll…kick his ass.” You laugh, bringing up a hand to cover your mouth. You don’t see the starry-eyed look Bob sends your way.

You glance down at the time on your watch. It’s getting pretty late. You can kick Bucky’s ass another time, right.

“I should -”

“Did you wanna - sorry, sorry,” he winces, “I didn’t mean to cut you off.”

You shake your head. “No, it’s - you’re fine. Go ahead.”

He takes a minute to respond, looking scared shitless. He wrings his hands together for a bit before he finally says something. “Did you, um, wanna…wanna watch a movie? With - with me?” 

You should probably say no, tell him you have to head back and watch Alpine (even though she’s so self-dependent, you doubt she really needs you) and Ladybug (who’s probably asleep). Tell him you have work to do (which you don’t). That you have work tomorrow (true, but you have a late start). 

This isn’t…appropriate. You think. He’s your boss’ friend. Slash coworker? Which makes him, like, your boss-in-law? Or your boss once-removed. Well, whatever he is, it has to be inappropriate, right? That whole don’t shit where you eat rule definitely has to apply here somewhere.

You take too long to respond, which causes him to back track. He rubs the back of his neck anxiously and adopts a pained expression. “Sorry. That’s - that’s probably weird. You can say no, I was just - I figured that if you came all - all this way, we could -”

“Yes,” you blurt out. He blinks rapidly at your response, unsure if he heard you right. “Yes, I’ll - we can watch. A movie. I don’t - it’s not weird.” Just probably illegal somehow, but you don’t tell him that. You felt bad, what were you supposed to do? Look him in his sad blue eyes and tell him no? You’re not a monster.

You walk over to the couch, your heels clicking softly on the floor. You settle in the spot next to him, on his right side, toeing off your heels as you make yourself comfortable. You almost cry in relief.

Bob sits back down, blanket in his lap as he quietly resumes the movie. The soft light of the TV casts flickering light around the room. Pulp Fiction; a classic. You’d seen it once or twice, enough to know the plot to a degree. Which helps, because your heart is beating out of your chest right now and if Bob were to ask your opinion on the movie you could choke out a believable response. 

Again, cute nerdy guy. Need you say more?

He’s so warm, you could feel his body heat radiating off of him from a foot away. You want to lean into it - lean into him. Your skin feels like it’s buzzing, itching. You shuffle a bit, which catches his attention. He wordlessly shifts in his seat, sitting just a hair closer to you so he can drape the blanket over your stocking covered legs. You feel your face heat up, but thank him regardless. You probably should’ve thrown on a change of clothes before coming here. 

You lean back against the cushions, glancing at him from your peripheral. He’s completely absorbed in the movie, eyes unblinking. You swear you see his eyes sparkle, so you’re glad he’s having a good time.

You think back to the last time you saw Bob. 

It was a couple of weeks ago, at a Gala thrown by Valentina. You were forced invited by Bucky to be his plus-one. It wasn’t exactly your forté, per say. You didn’t like parties all that much - at least, not the stiff, boring ones thrown by people with way too much money. You’d lost sight of Bucky halfway through, which left you alone. In a room full of people you didn’t know.

Fun. 

So you’d sat at a random table, far off from the crowd as you waited for the night to wrap up. Picking at your nails, trying to fight the urge to bite off your press-on’s. Then Bob showed up, in a fitted black and white suit. His hair gelled back, but a few stray curls lay perfectly on his forehead. He cleaned up nicely. 

He took a seat next to you, his lips quirking up into a shy grin. You return one to him, happy to have company. Happy it’s him sitting next to you. 

“You look pretty,” he muttered, rubbing his hands together nervously. You look down at your dress: a black, thin-strapped, square-neck bodice paired with an A-line skirt that brushes along the floor, even with your heels. You feel a rush of heat over your face, flustered.

“Thanks,” you whispered, chewing on your lip in thought. You nudge his knee with yours. “You look nice, too.”

He’d asked you to dance, which you said yes to. He was a pretty good dancer, to your surprise. Never stepped on your feet and kept his hand respectfully on your waist, never straying too high nor too low. It was…nice. Really nice.

And now you’re here, sitting next to him, wondering if he can hear your heart pounding, because you sure can. You can also feel a flutter in your stomach, which. Okay. Not like you’re nervous as it is already. You lean your head back on the couch, angling it so your head is tilted towards him

He chuckles at something that happens on screen and you copy him with one of your own, but it feels empty even to you. You steal another glance, surprised to see that he’s already looking at you.

“Hi,” you whisper softly.

“Hey,” he returns, just as quiet. He looks back at the TV, finding the remote to lower the volume a bit, then leans back on the couch, mirroring your position. He leans on his side, head propped up by the cushions. “I haven’t…haven’t seen you since the party.”

You trace along the pattern of the couch. “Yeah. It’s been a busy month. Lots of paperwork, trying to keep Bucky on track.”

His eyes flicker down to your lips, just for a second. It’s…probably just the reflection from the TV. You both hold each other’s gaze for a moment, the world around you turning to static. The conversation lulls into a tense silence, and you find your breath hitching in your throat. Bob’s expression shifts; his teeth catching his bottom lip. It’s your turn to stare now, blinking back up at him dumbly.

He shifts the tiniest bit more, his knee knocking against yours. 

“Sorry if - if the movie is boring you. I can change it,” but he makes no move for the remote. Keeps his eyes on yours. You trace the flush that develops across his cheeks, down his neck, across his ears. Cute.

You lick your bottom lip. He traces the movement with his eyes. Oh. Okay, so maybe not a trick of the light. You should…probably nip this in the bud. This has to be crossing some sort of professional boundary. Or something, you’re not sure. Bob moves in a little bit closer and it’s kind of hard to think clearly right now. The scent of bergamot overwhelms you.

He raises a hand hesitantly, cups the side of your face tenderly. Rubs your cheekbone with his rough, calloused thumb. Traces it along your cheek, down to your jaw. He cups the back of your neck, stroking your jaw gently. You’re sure he can feel the heat radiating off of your face by now. You bite your lower lip and he follows it again.

He hesitates for a moment, as if weighing his words carefully. “Can I,” he takes in a shuddering breath, “can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” you all but whine. 

He leans in, his lips brushing softly against yours. The kiss is tentative at first, the sudden rush of warmth making a gasp get stuck in your throat. His lips are soft, firm. His nose nudges against yours. 

You kiss him back, just as eagerly, lips moving against his. Your hand finds purchase on his side, your fingertips grazing along the fabric. You lean into him, the warmth of his lips igniting something within you. Your hand travels up and finds its way into the curls that lay nestled at the nape of his neck. He melts, groaning into your mouth, sliding his hand from your jaw to your waist, his pinky stroking your waist. He pulls you in closer, fingers pressing into your skin. Lips pressing harder against yours.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispers against your lips, “so so pretty.” He tilts his head, deepening the kiss. The softness gives way to a passionate, hungry intensity that makes you breathless.

“Bob,” you gasp, placing a hand on his chest. You’re starting to get a crick in your neck, but you don’t want to stop kissing him.

“Mm?” he muffles, reaching up to place a hand between your shoulder blades, urging you to fall into him. 

You push away from him, his lips chasing after yours. He breathes heavily, eyes searching yours.

“I’m - I’m sorry,” he stutters, “was that too much? I -” The words die in his throat as you climb onto his lap, your legs straddling his. The blanket tossed onto the ground. His large hands come up to your waist and steady you. 

You wrap both arms around his neck as you pull him in for another kiss, tilting his head back. You feel his lips moving against yours, with a need that mirrors your own. Your fingers find their way into his hair, and his grip on your waist tightens, pulling you even closer. 

He bites your lip and tugs on it, sucking on it. You open your mouth to let out a gasp, and he takes this as an opportunity to lick into your mouth. He groans at the taste of you, pulling you in closer. Heat starts to blossom in your belly. You feel your skirt riding up your thighs but you can’t be bothered to care right now.

The kiss becomes frantic, wild. His hands have traveled lower, one firmly on your thigh, his thumb rubbing the bit of skin that’s been exposed, while the other is at the junction where your hip meets your thigh. 

“Wanted you for so long,” he pulls away to leave a trail of wet kisses along your jaw, down to your neck. Your hands roam over his broad shoulders, your head leaning against his as you try to catch your breath. You don’t know where he’s gotten this confidence but you are not one to complain.

Bob pulls back and cups your face again, his thumb tracing along your kiss-swollen lips. You give his thumb a tiny peck and he groans, pulling you back in for another kiss. Your giggle morphs into a moan, which prompts him to kiss you with even more fervor.

The sound of the movie continues to play softly in the background, but you’re lost in your own world, blurring with every kiss. You can feel Bob’s hands exploring, tracing light patterns along your back as he pulls you even closer, your chest firmly against his. The heat in your belly is starting to simmer, travel; you can feel it all the way down to your fingertips.

You felt a surge of boldness take over. You press yourself against him, your hips meeting his. A playful teasing of your hips against his makes him whine, which you find that you like very much. Like, a lot. His hands grip the skin of your thighs, right where your stockings end. Right where he can feel the flesh of your thighs.

Bob feels like he’s fucking dreaming.

“Please,” he whimpers against your lips, his breathing uneven and desperate. You give another roll of your hips, relishing in the way he throws his head back against the couch and lets out a pained groan. You stamp wet, loving kisses along the side of his throat, biting down at the junction of his neck. His grip on your thighs tightens, bruising. Encourages your hips to continue that delicious rhythm against his. 

You can feel him, below you. Hard, straining against his sweats. Thick. It makes you gasp, stuttering in your movements. The ache between your thighs is becoming unbearable. You press down on him and Bob groans like you’ve killed him.

“Fuck, you’re killing me,” well, maybe you are. His eyes are squeezed shut, jaw clenched as he breathes harshly through his nose. You study his face for a bit; he’s got nice, long lashes. Fluttering against his cheeks. You roll your hips again.

You squeal as the world seems to turn on its axis, your back meeting the soft cushion of the couch. Feel Bob settle between your legs, your calves pressed against his hips. He’s leaning on his forearms, caging your head between them. Your eyes catch his and you watch in wonder as his irises seem to have a golden hue around them.

“Hi,” you giggle.

“Hey,” he parrots back. Brushes a strand of your hair out of your face. Leaves tiny pecks across your forehead, your cheeks, your lips. Pulls you into another kiss - sweeter, this time, but passionate all the same. You sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He starts to grind against you, the head of his cock catching against your clit. You whine, your fingers digging into his shoulders. He buries his head into the crook of your neck, panting against your skin.

This is so risky. Too risky. Anyone could come back at any second. You could - you could lose your job over this. Maybe. Probably. Hooking up with your boss’ friend is grounds for termination, right? You’d die if Bucky saw you like this.

Bob circles his hips, his length dragging alongside your cunt. Whatever thoughts you were having disappear, too caught up in the pleasure. The friction of his sweatpants against your lacy boyshorts makes you gasp, has you wrapping your legs tighter around him, pulling him closer.

Your hand trails down, rubs along the small of his back. You push up the pullover, your fingers meeting his warm skin. His hips stutter, but continue grinding against you. The couch squeaks quietly beneath you. You can feel just how wet your underwear has gotten, sticky and cold against you. It’s filthy. He’s making a mess of you and you haven’t even taken your clothes off.

You trace along the skin of his defined back. Brush along the ridges of his abdomen, nails catching along his abs. Jesus, sleeper build much? The contact makes Bob moan, and he licks a strip up your neck, biting down and sucking at the skin.

“Bob,” you sob, scrunching your eyes in pleasure as he circles his hips just the right way, “fuck, please. Please.”

He whines, leaving a kiss where he’s left a mark on you and pulling you in for a desperate kiss. You feel his cock throb against your cunt.

“I’ll take care of you, baby, I promise,” his lips brush over yours. His hips jerk desperately, losing the steady pace. He’s becoming frantic. “Dreamt of this for so long. Dreamt of you,” he confesses. You whine, feeling yourself clench around nothing, your thighs trembling.

“Mmph, Bob, Bob,” your fingers weave against his curls, pulling tightly. You feel it building up, the pressure threatening to snap. He’s hard, aching. You’re sure he’s feeling it too. “Fuck. Fuck me, I’m -”

His cock catches on your clit again and you lose it. Your squeal is muffled by his lips smothering yours, your body shuddering as your orgasm wrecks through you. Your thighs clamp around him, your hips canting to help him reach his. He reaches under you and pushes you towards his cock, his hand on the small of your back. Soft, broken whines leave you as he grinds his hips faster against you. It’s - it’s almost too much. 

“You’re so perfect,” he pants. “Fuck,” he chokes out another groan, longer this time, and his hips start to slow down. Ducks his head into your neck and whimpers so loud you could come at the sound of it. You look down and - fuck, that’s so embarrassing. His sweatpants have a wet spot against him, courtesy of you. But you see a little wet spot where the head of his cock is and a sense of pride swells within you.

He presses his lips against you again, slower this time. Like he’s savoring it. He meets your lips again, pushes his tongue in, licking along the roof of your mouth. You moan, nails digging into his shoulders. You feel a bit of drool sliding down your face but he wipes it along your cheek. 

Fuck. He’s so hot it’s ridiculous. 

“M’sorry,” he says through kisses, “if it was, mmph, too - too much,” he sucks on your bottom lip again, making you whimper “did it - did it feel good?”

You could kill him. Here you are, trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm and he’s asking you if it felt good? 

God. It makes you wanna kiss the shit out of him.

You nod against his lips, tugging his face closer to yours. “Mm-hm,” you add, sucking on his tongue. 

He looks like he’s just about ready to make a mess of you again when the elevator dings. He freezes, meeting your bewildered gaze. You spring away from each other, him wiping his face and finding a pillow to hide the mess on his lap, you pulling down your skirt and trying to make yourself look more presentable. But it's too late.

"Hey Bob, Valentina said to - OH MY GOD," Mel hollered, bringing up her clipboard to hide the scene before her. You know you look a mess, swollen lips and mussed up clothes. Bob is no better, face entirely red and refusing to look anyone in the eyes, staring at the TV like the movie didn't end a while ago. "This isn't happening, this isn't happening," you hear Mel mutter to herself. You'd laugh under different circumstances.

Well now you've got nothing to lose. You grab your heels off the floor and scurry to the elevator, apologizing to Mel as you pass her. You press the button that'll take you to the garage. Bob's eyes never leave yours, his hand in front of him like he'd tried to reach out and grab you. The doors close and you give him a pathetic wave, and you have just enough time to see him return it.

You lean against the railing of the elevator, heart racing and toes still tingling.

Fuck. What did you just do?

[stellophiliac]

you should make a website!

"my favorite social media site is shutting down!"

"the CEO of the site i use just committed another atrocity!"

"i want a webspace that's all my own!"

if any of these sound like you (and if you're on tumblr, i know at least one applies) you should make your own website!

why make a website?

incredibly customizable

you can put whatever you want on it

it's, well, your own! like a house you build with your own hands

things you'll need

a computer. you can maybe get away with doing this on a mobile device, but i have zero experience there

a code editor. i like VScodium, which is a de-microsoft-ed version of VScode.

a will to learn ;)

site hosting

neocities. everyone knows neocities. at this point i do feel like it's become a bit too centralized, but it's a good option nonetheless. do note that there are filetype restrictions for free users, but that shouldn't be a huge issue for most. what may be an issue, though, is that there's a content security policy that prevents sites made after jan 1st, 2024 to use outside scripts. also, you have to pay to use your own domain

nekoweb. similar to neocities, but there's no filetype restrictions or a content security policy. some differences are outlined in the FAQ (thinking about moving here... i am a traitor...) i'm not sure if domain support is free or paid.

github pages or codeberg pages. you'll need an understanding of git for this

pages.gay: run by besties.house, uses git

teacake: free hosting is currently closed, but paid hosting starts at 2 bucks a month.

leprd.space: i know next to nothing about this.

a web server. don't recommend this if you don't know computer stuff but it is an option (you'll likely have to provide your own domain though)

gripes & solutions (?)

i'm not comfortable maintaining pages in pure HTML / templating with JS sucks!

with a static site generator, you can write pages in markdown and they'll be converted into HTML and (if you'd like) be put into a template of your choosing. my personal choice is 11ty but there are tons of options!

static site generators can be a bit of a learning curve (and you will have to write some html for templating) but if you're making a lot of pages or blogging regularly it's something to consider

there are starters for 11ty online but i might make a more beginner-proofed starter and/or guide in the future? don't count on it

i don't want to write/maintain CSS

simpleCSS is a tiny CSS file you can use to make semantic HTML ("naked" HTML) look nice. it's got decent customization options too. it's not particularly fancy or opinionated, but it's a good starting point if you need something

i don't know what to put on my website!

small list of ideas:

weblog

art/writing/music gallery

movie/show/book tracker

place to store bookmarks/links

scary! i'm scared!

my askbox/messages/e-mail inbox/etc. are open to anyone who'd like to ask for help!

[noriretherford]

Jim Henson Presents issue #3 is dropping in comic stores now!

I hear it's got a pretty awesome Heretic & Wanderer short, and it ALSO has a TAVRA/ONICA one I worked on with J. M. Lee! SOOO EXCITED to finally reveal this.

It's been a dream project for ages. I put everything I could into these drawings, trying to do justice to Joe's lovely script. And Ángel brought all the scenes to life with gorgeous color.

"At the End of All Things"

Written by: J. M. Lee

Art by: @noriretherford

Colors by: @plutomaris

Many of the pages were released in the official online preview, so I'm just going to include a few of my favorites here. 🫣

[snoopychris]

loml

warnings: angst with foreplay, p in v, lots of mentions of pregnancy

as much as the media could try to portray it as the best place on earth, sometimes it was the absolute worst. Hollywood. the only industry on earth where if you messed up once, forget about everything you had ever worked for. if you ended up on the wrong side of a breakup, forget about ever being seen on a red carpet again. if you had famous parents, forget about any credit ever being given to you– it would all tie back to your parents unless you were charming enough from a young age. luckily for you, thats right where you landed. you were Hollywood’s sweetheart from day one, known equally for your charm and being Jason Segel’s daughter. 

it was fairly known that you had never paid for any sort of role in your life. never getting anything just handed to you, no, you always worked for it. you were always known for working for it. known for trying to be as independent from your father’s projects and having your own. it wasnt a shocker to anybody when you had started your own clothing brand at age 21. it was at the launch party when you first met matt. the youtube boy— who was skyrocketing to fame with his brothers on their own accord— right there at your party. like the rest of the world you had seen him online before, but it was so different in person.

whereas his online persona was the quiet one of the group, the one who got the least amount of action, his real and true self was the exact opposite. he was charming in every sense of the word. 

even with all the flashing lights and loud noises that should’ve been distracting you, even with the constant nagging from the photographers and interviews around you, and even with your dads constant tugs on your arm to get you to pay attention, all you could manage to focus on was him. and the same way you could only focus on him, matt could only focus on you. 

nick was nagging him to take a few pictures, chris was begging him to light up just one more time, his manager was trying to pull him away to go get some publicity. the distractions just weren’t working. for either of you. and when the both of you finally locked eyes, you both just knew. complete strangers at the start of the night, but by the end of the celebration, it was the start of the best love story hollywood had seen in recent years.

one month in. 

the giggling in the house was all that could be heard. it had been nonstop for hours at this point. chris and nick would usually be sick of the lack of silence in the house, but seeing their brother so happy made it more than okay. they could have left a while ago, but it was a lot more fun to watch this love story unfold than to go to a random store to shop. you and matt just fit so perfectly together. even the lines on your palms managed to match up. it’s like somebody in the heavens above had made one person and split them into two bodies. that’s just how perfect it all was. 

the two of you hadn’t been seen together in public yet— much to the dismay of the paparazzi who had seen the spark that ignited at your party— but it was better this way. even without an official label, it was better to keep some stuff more public. this wasn’t their relationship after all, it was yours. it was yours and it was everything both of you had ever needed and more. there wasnt a single second where anything felt wrong. it was nothing but mutual love and happiness. 

“hey lovebirds we’re going to In-n-Out, do you guys want anything?” Chris asks, grabbing onto his car keys from the table. it feels like its part of a movie script when both of you reply with the same thing. “plain double-double with fries!” the grip you had on matt’s shirt tightens when you break out in another fit of giggles, face burying into his chest as he holds onto you as if you were about to leave him forever. Chris smiles at his brothers actions, following nick out the front door. “Nick fifty bucks says the get married.” Chris whispers, pulling his wallet out of his pocket. Nick shakes his head in denial, pushing his brothers wallet back. “it wouldnt be smart for me to bet against it. i know they’ll get married.”

three months in. 

for the first time in your entire Hollywood career, you had a date to a red carpet that wasnt your father. this time, Matt was right by your side for the entire night. the outfits the two of you wore were coordinated to one anothers to the last detail. your dior converse-style shoes matched matt’s tie, your baby pink dress matched matt’s baby pink suit, your headband matched his belt, and even though the cameras would never see it, even your undergarments were matching. his grip on your waist was tight, as if making sure that nobody got too close to you or to make sure that nobody was bothering you. the flashes coming from the crowd were constant and expected, but this time just felt so different than all the times before. 

this time it felt like the moment was being photographed, not the people. it felt like every good feeling in the world all tied into one with a ribbon. matt’s whispers of silent nothings into your ears just made it all better. one picture in particular made magazine covers. an image in which matt was gripping onto one of your hands while his eyes were locked onto your lips and his free hand was pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, all while you were looking directly into his eyes while the rain began pouring over the previously sunny california skies. it looked like it could be straight from a romcom. it seemed like your relationship was straight out of a romcom. 

when the event was over, there was no question about where you would end up. your apartment was nice and quiet— far enough from downtown los angeles to give you the privacy you so desperately needed sometimes, but close enough to be within a drivable distance to the constant events and shoots you had to do. upon arrival, matt’s soft lips were kissing all over your body in the most loving way possible, words in between every phrase that left his mouth as if he were writing a poem and you were his muse. “my sweet girl” kiss “god, am i lucky.” kiss. “this is everything i could’ve ever asked for and more” kiss. “you make me feel things nobody’s ever made me feel before.” kiss. “you truly reformed me, darling.” kiss. the last kiss was the most passionate. it was just so genuine. you couldn’t believe the sort of life you were living right now.

“you’re such a romantic, y’know that matt?” you whisper, hands moving to loosen his tie. both of you knew that the night would end up like this from the moment it started, but it was the best possible outcome. he shrugs as he lays you down onto your bed gently, stripping you of your clothes as well as his. he doesn’t hesitate to slide into you as soon as he has a condom on, pulling you into another passionate kiss.

his hand lays on the back of your neck as he begins to move in a gentle pace, making sure that the entire time you felt safe, comfortable, and most importantly, loved. this wasn’t just any act of sex the way both of you had experienced with others before, this was the act of lovemaking. in a way, it was like losing your virginity all over again because of how different it was. in the post-coital bliss the two of you were experiencing, matt still nestled in side you, the words just slipped from his mouth. “i love you. i love you so much.” you smile up at him, your eyes saying everything that he needed to know, but it didn’t take long for your mouth to catch up. “i love you.”

six months in.

“are you sure i look okay? i just… im really trying to make a good first impression and y-your mom seems so sweet but what if she doesn’t like me. or what if she thinks my outfit is ridiculous and that you could do so much better than me and what if she jus-” your rambling was cut off by a sudden kiss, breaking you free from the grasps of your mind and its cruel words. “you look beautiful. she’s gonna love it. she’s gonna love you just as much as i do.” he whispers, his hand resting on your thigh as he pulled into his family’s Boston driveway. your flight had landed an hour ago, and the hour between your arrival to Boston and your arrival to his house was one of the most stressful hours of your life. his words of reassurance were more than what you needed. 

the dinner went better than you could’ve ever imagined. matt was right. his parents loved you. his brothers seemed to only love you even more. it was as if you had always been a part of the family. his hand had never left your grip, holding your small hand tightly in his. he wanted to put a ring on it so badly. but he knew it was too soon. he knew it wasn’t time yet. his mother seemed to know just what he was thinking by the end of the night. while you were sitting in the living room having a small chat with nick, matt got pulled aside by none other than marylou. 

he hadn’t done anything wrong all night, so he truly had no idea what it could be about. he was quite worried to be completely honest. “i want you to propose with grandmas ring. you tell me when you’re ready and i’ll give it to you. you guys are just so good together that i can sense that it’s going to happen. i’m so happy for you my dear boy.” she whispers, tears forming in her eyes as she speaks. her thumb brushes over matt’s cheek before she gets pulled into a tight hug, a whisper filling her ear. “i promise you’ll be the first to know mama.”

one year in

“this just in! bum bum bum!!!” you joke, matt’s grip on you only tightening at your words. “matt sturniolo keeps americas sweetheart locked in a 10 by 15 foot bedroom in order to keep her with him at all times. stay tuned to see how the story unfolds.” matt lets out a loud laugh at your words, fingers pushing through your hair. “yeah okay princess if that’s what you think this is.” he replies, a kiss being pressed to your forehead. you giggle as you sit up on his waist, hands playing with a loose string on his shirt. he can’t help but admire you in this moment. “matt cmon i haven’t been home—my own home— in three days! i still have a family y’know. plus… my jelly cats miss me” 

“so move in with me.” he whispers. your heart stops. you think he’s just pulling some sort of prank on you. it’s just too out of the blue to be real. “matt don’t play like that.” you mumble, burying your head in the crook of his neck. “i’m not playing! i just think… we spend so much time together anyway… you’ve got the money and i’ve got the money… we’d finally have some privacy. we could even get an apartment together instead of moving into yours.” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your temple. “okay.” you whisper back, nodding against his neck. he can’t believe his ears. “okay? wait so we’re moving in together?” he asks excitedly, laughing when you nod and kissing your face all over. it was the start of a new chapter for americas favorite couple.

one year, 3 months in.

the panting that filled the room was just the right amount of overwhelming. most of it was coming from you, but a few were coming from matt. his leg was draped over yours, keeping a hold on you subtly. “we’re out of condoms.” he whispers, tracing shapes on your thigh. you nod as you look over at the bedside table, licking your lips. “you’ve been breaking in all the surfaces in the new place… should’ve gotten a twin pack.” you giggle, moving to rest your head on his chest. matt’s arm moves to wrap around your shoulder, finger moving to trace shapes on your back.

“i can’t help it. i’ve got the prettiest girl in the whole industry in my bed. our bed. and i would love to go another round if she’d let me.” his words make you chuckle, pouting your lip teasingly. “if only it worked like that. no, not without a condom. you know that.” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his slight stubble.

“oh come on. you’re tellin me you’re never gonna let me hit it raw? never ever?” he jokes, wincing when you slap his arm gently. his eyes widen at you, as if he’s actually expecting an answer. when he pinches your arm you realize that he is. “well of course i will just… not anytime soon. and i mean i’ve been on birth control since i was sixteen so really the chances are reduced but… the idea of having kids is kinda scary don’t y’think?” you mumble, furrowing your brows. matt shakes his head, stretching one hand out behind his head.

“no not with you. i think i could do anything with you. think you’d be great at all that mom stuff.” your gaze softens at his words, pressing another kiss to his lips gently. “one day.” you whisper, shifting your position to be fully on top of him. he nods in retaliation, kissing your forehead. “one day.” 

one year, six months in. 

“to a miss y/n segel.” matt states, handing a fancy looking envelope to you straight from the mail. “thought you said you weren’t waiting on anything.” he continues, flipping through the junk mail that arrived. you nod, gently opening the envelope. “it’s cause i wasn’t. i don’t know what this is.” you whisper, gasping when you pull out the contents. “miss y/n… we here at Prada are big fans of your work and the message you try to spread to all of your loyal followers and anybody who will listen. with this letter we cordially invite you and a plus one to visit our headquarters in Milan after Paris Fashion Week concludes this upcoming Winter. please reply at your earliest convenience to the information attached at the bottom of the letter. we hope to see you soon.”

“we’re going to milan…” you whisper, eyes darting to meet matt’s. his eyes widen in shock, glancing down at the letter before pulling you into a tight hug from behind. “oh i dont know… i dont have one of those invites.” he jokes, you push his head away from you playfully, looking into the same blue eyes youd fallen in love with over the 18 months you had known him. “well in that case…” 

Matt’s life flashes before his eyes when you sink down to one knee, Prada envelope in hand. “Mr. Matt Sturniolo… will you… go to Milan with me?” you giggle, the faux-proposal turning cogs in matts head. “yes! yes yes yes a thousand times yes!” he laughs, taking the envelope as if it were a ring. he wonders if you would react the same way when he proposed to you in the future. he hopes you do. 

one year, seven months in. 

shopping for a fashion trip was a lot harder than it seemed. matt was with you every step of the way, but shopping for him was a lot harder than shopping for you was. you groan when you leave the fourth department store of the trip, burying your head in your boyfriends chest “‘m tired… this is hard.” you whine, his hand flying to your hair as he chuckles. “yeah? y’struggling? i told you i think you look great in everything. especially that little white one.” you shake your head, the prominent pout on your face telling matt everything he needs to know. “fine… fine! i’ll take you home” you smile giddily when he makes his way towards the exit, only stopping when you see the most gorgeous dress youd ever seen in a store window.

your breath gets caught in your chest at the sight of it. you just have to have it. your legs carry you into the store, asking an associate to try it on in your size. the second that the dress is on your body, you know that its just the dress for you. it seems like it was made for you with the way the color patterns and style is everything you couldve asked for. 

“Matty?” you whisper, tucking one of your hands into one of dress's pockets. Matts heart damn near stops at the sight of you in it. “it looks nice… really nice. I really like it. you gonna get it?” he asks, pulling you close with a small spin. you giggle at the action and shrug, glancing down at the price tag. “I dunno… its twelve hundred dollars. kinda a lot for a dress dont y’think?” the hesitation in your voice is clear. the lack thereof in matts is clearer. “let me buy it for you. you deserve something nice every now and then, my love. Ill buy this for you and anything else you want. forever and always.” he smiles, sticking a pinky out to you to offer a pinky promise. you lock your fingers with his, nodding at his words in agreement. “forever and always.” 

two years in. 

“Chris… oh my god he’s so little!” you smile, glancing down at the newborn in the hospital bassinet. everybody had been shocked when chris was the first Sturniolo to become a dad. it was a happy accident as the result of a one night stand. he had kept it a secret until his son had been born, the news coming from an incoming facetime call matt received. the two of you had rushed your way over when the call ended, putting you in the place you are now. “Chris hes perfect… oh my god its a baby!” you whisper yell, making sure to be careful due to the babies size. Matt chuckles as he pats his brother on the back, a sign of encouragement.

if matt was worried about becoming a father one day, he couldnt imagine how his little brother was feeling right now. the coos coming from the baby keep earning giggles and baby noises from you, making both matt and chris smile widely. “I want one” you pout, glancing over your shoulder to look at matt. his eyes are about to pop out of their sockets at your words. it had been briefly touched on in the length of your relationship before, but this time felt so much more serious than the other times. he nods, crossing his arms at your words.

“technically that ones fifty percent mine… take him.” he jokes, earning a slap on the chest from his brother. he winces, pouting his lips. “that ones mine… just give her her own.” chris replies, reaching to grab his now crying son from the crib. Matt eyes you up and down, gesturing you over. his arms wrap around you, chin resting on the top of your head. “ill get you one… one day. cant give you one while youre on the pill now can you” he jokes, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. you give into all of the touches, watching as chris interacts with the baby. your heart flutters a bit, imagining it being matt playing with your own children rather than chris being with his. one day. 

two years, six months in.

“what if we just dont go tonight? we can stay here… have some mindblowing sex. i can even wear the set you like! cmon pleaseeeeee? I promise ill make it much more worth your while than dinner at the cheesecake factory.” you plead, putting your earrings on regardless. youre wearing the dress that matt had bought you for milan, arguably a bit fancy for the cheesecake factory, but matt insisted you wear it. he shakes his head as he sprays on his cologne, placing your hands in his. “y/n. we’re going. i’ll take you up on that offer of the sex later though. I wanna have a nice dinner with you.” you smile up at the boy, nodding your head.

“Okay… okay fine you win. youre like a disney prince oh my god.” you giggle, placing a hand on his cheek. he gives into the touch, pressing a small trail of kisses up your arm. when he finally reaches your face, he presses the most gentle kiss on your lips. you smile at the simple actions, gripping onto his hands. “Fineeeee. but i want multiple types of cheesecake.” you negotiate. Matt nods, patting his coat to make sure he has everything he needs. he lets out a sigh of relief when he feels that his keys, his phone, and the little velvet box are all in his pocket. 

when you finally arrive to the restaurant, youre shocked to see that its not the cheesecake factory the way you were expecting. your breath hitches when you see the interior. the dress youre wearing makes sense now. that little bastard was just trying to trick you. the host leads you to your table, where theres already a bottle of your favorite wine waiting. your eyes dart to matt when you hear him laughing, a smirk evident on his face. “What? werent expecting this were you?” you shake your head, a blush creeping onto your face. his face is confident, but his body language is different. he seems a lot more nervous than usual.

“what’s up with you? youve been so secretive lately… i feel like i havent seen you till today” you ask, mind instantly going to the worst case scenario. matt shakes his head, deciding that if he was going to take this leap, he had to do it now. your hands cover your mouth when matt drops to one knee, reaching into the inner pocket of his coat to pull out his grandmothers ring. 

though his breath hitches in his throat when he starts speaking, he pushes through with what he has to say. “i um… i met you when i was 21 years old. im 23 now. i dont think i could ever imagine going from ages 21 to 23 without you right by my side… truly. youre everything i couldve ever possibly asked for and more. i cant imagine a future without you. i cant imagine a life without you. theres no me without you. you take me to heaven every single time you smile… a-and i cant imagine starting a family without anybody else. and y/n… fuck. i dont think i was alive until the day i met you. ive said it a million times before and ill say it again. youre the love of my life. so… will you marry me?” theres tears in his eyes by the end of it, matching the tears in yours. you choke back a sob as you nod rapidly, whispering a long string of the word yes. matt chuckles nervously as he places the ring on your finger, pulling you into the longest kiss he’s ever given you. 

2 years, 9 months in

“hey princess.” your dad mumbles as he walks past you in the meeting room, hand resting on your shoulder. defamation scandals were not for the weak of heart— especially for the people who hadn’t done anything wrong. you weren’t even sure where it had come from. some paparazzi who didn’t get the picture he wanted was claiming that you had broken his camera and that matt had broken his nose. your dad had a lawyer ready for cases like this, calling him up the instant that the lawsuit had come through. “daddy i didn’t do anything wrong!” you whisper, looking over at your dad. he nods in response, rubbing your shoulder. “i know you didn’t.” you sigh at the idea of being stuck in this room for another while, especially since matt was still nowhere to be seen. 

it feels like you manifested him when he walks into the room, dressed in a suit and tie with a briefcase in hand. he came prepared. matt sits down next to you, greeting you with a kiss to your cheek. “hi my love” he whispers, gripping onto your thigh. “sorry i took forever… the contractors for the house were late and then i got stopped by every red light in los angeles.” you sigh contently as you lay your head on his shoulder, a usual spot got you. his arm wraps around you instinctively, ready for the challenges to come. “we’re gonna get through this. and then we’re gonna go home… and you’re gonna see your brand new house. and then if you want we’ll never attend a red carpet again.” you nod at matt’s words, each part that slipped his lips making you feel better about the case at hand. the relationship was stronger than it ever had been before, and it was the perfect combination of online and offline. you just hoped the media wouldn’t find out about the new house the way they had found out about the apartment and used it as means of exploitation.

“what if we lose? what if we lose the case and we go bankrupt and we can’t have a big wedding and we can never start a family and w-we just don’t get the life we’ve been planning” you ramble, tears forming in your eyes. matt cuts you off with a kiss, shaking his head as he rests his forehead on yours. “any life with you is the life i’ve been planning. in sickness and in health. i’ll never leave you ever.” you giggle at his words, nodding slowly as you begin to relax. “you were like sent from the gods i swear.”

3 years in.

“hey hey hey! hey julian get back here!” matt yells, chasing after chris’ young son while you walked into the door after your photo shoot. you giggle at the sight, setting your bag on the floor and swooping the toddler into your arms. you’re met with a squeal and a collection of laughs from the young boy, eyes moving to meet matt’s. “how do you get him to calm down like that?” he asks, running a hand through his hair. it’s clear he’s been at this for a while. you shrug as you play with the toddler carefully, pressing a kiss to your fiancés lips. “mmmm you smell like a nice perfume.” he whispers, his mouth lingering near yours. he places another small kiss to your lips , being cut off by the toddlers mindless babbles. “maccy cheese?” he asks, his big blue eyes meeting your own. you chuckle as you nod, walking to the kitchen with the toddler.

“can’t believe your uncle matty hasn’t fed you yet” you joke, setting the toddler on the counter. “it’s not my fault! he refuses to eat my food. i think it must be in your genes. you’re meant to be a mother. the mother to myyyyy kids. i’m just… mr steal your girl. and trust after that milan honeymoon you will be a mother to my kids.” matt hops up onto the counter next to his nephew, ruffling the munchkins hair. you roll your eyes at his words, placing the shaped pasta into the boiling water. “and why’d we pick milan again?” you whisper, resting your hands on either side of matt’s legs. “cause it’s the first trip we took together.” he whispers, hand settling on top of yours. it makes you blush, inching your face close to his as you joke. “oh i’ll take mr romantic over mr steal your girl any day” 

3 years, 1 month in.

“are you actually smoking again?” you mumble, glancing up at matt from your spot on the bed. he shrugs, flicking his lighter on and holding it close to his joint. it had been his second of the day. you’d prefer weed over nicotine, but it was still an unhealthy habit to have. you wanted to slap it away from him, but you weren’t in the mood to fight today. it had already been long enough. the arguments seemed to be becoming more consistent. as the day of the wedding just kept inching closer, you assumed it was nothing but the jitters. 

“you want some?” he asks, holding the joint towards you. you shake your head, glancing over at your birth control on the counter. you hadn’t taken it in a few days, and you worried that if you took it with weed that your body would have some visceral reaction. “can you put it out? it’s making me nauseous.” you whisper, picking at your fingernails. matt shakes his head, instead standing up and walking out of the room. he had never done that before. you sigh as you get comfortable on the bed alone, turning off the lamp besides you. matt returns after an hour or two, arm wrapping around your waist as he whispers in your ear. “i’m sorry… i love you so much i’m sorry. forgive me please. that was the last of it. it’s gone forever now.” 

3 years, 3 months in. 

you swore that you were going to burst into tears the first time you looked yourself in the mirror in full glam. nick was photographing the entire moment in his bridesmaids suit, eyes glistening with nothing but pure happiness. “work it! oh your dress is absolutely stunning. it’s so shiny and so… you” he chuckles, camera clicks constantly coming. your breath hitches in your throat when you realize that it’s finally here. everything you had been planning for in the past 9 months was finally here. you could’ve had a baby right now. you wipe the tears that had formed in your eyes quickly, ensuring that your makeup remained fine. you glance at nick and smile, biting your lip to hold back anymore cries or tears.

“in thirty short minutes you’re gonna be walking the aisle… and in less than an hour you’re gonna be married to the man of your dreams. i mean! do you know how many people really get to do that?” he whispers, pulling you into a tight hug. you giggle at his words, eyes glancing towards the clock. 30 minutes. 

a knock on the door grabs nicks attention, as well as your own, suddenly filling you with fear that something’s gone wrong. the cake or the flowers or the food. you’re not too sure. your worry is lessened when it’s chris who walks in the room, eying nick instantly. “can i talk to you real quick?” he whispers, filling you with fear again. this time your mind goes to the worst case scenario, worrying that something had gone terribly wrong. you take a seat in the ottoman in the room, watching as the boys head out of the room.

nick walks in after a few minutes, but he’s shaking this time. you swallow nervously, eyes batting rapidly. searching for an answer. “what’s going on? is it my dad?” you whisper, standing up instantly. you’re worried. nick hesitates for a moment but then shakes his head, lips pursing into a line. “i almost wish it was… um…” he swallows again, looking back at the door as if someone’s going to come in and save him. he knows it’s no luck. “matt’s leaving.” oh. my. god. you shake your head in disbelief, standing up so quickly that you get lightheaded. “what do you mean he’s leaving? wh-where’s he going?” nick shakes his head, hand running over his mouth. “he’s in the parking lot. go. go now. chris and nate are trying to hold him off.”

despite the struggle that your dress should provide when it comes to running, you manage to do it without falling or even tripping. when you arrive to the small, rocky parking lot of the wedding barn, matt’s right there where nick said he would be. nate’s holding him back while chris is saying unintelligible words to him. “matt!” you yell, tears forming in your eyes once more. “you told her?!?!” he yells, lurching towards chris. chris scoffs in disbelief, moving away from his brother. “you’re walking out on her and i was supposed to keep her in the dark? of course i fucking told her.” you swallow once more, barely fighting back tears at this point. nate takes a few steps away before coming back to take chris along with him. your eyes are desperate for answers. you’re desperate for answers. matt knows that. his hands push into his pockets as he takes a step towards you, avoiding your gaze the entire time.

“i can’t do this… it’s too soon and i’m not… i can’t… im so so sorry. i know that this is the worst thing somebody could ever possibly do but i just… i can’t live a lie. not one this big.” matt explains, though it only causes more questions to arise in your mind. a sob finally leaves your lips as you reach for his hand, which he quickly pulls away. tears form in his eyes too, and he’s quick to let one fall. you want him to so badly hold you and tell you that it’s a sick prank but it’s just not happening. you let out another string of sobs as he begins walking away, the gravel crunching beneath his steps. chris steps besides you, about to pull you in for a hug but you shake your head. you can’t do this right now. so instead you do the only thing you could ever do when you got in previous fights with matt. you yell.

“you’re a coward! you’re a pathetic excuse for a man and you should have never even asked me to marry you to begin with if you knew you wouldn’t be able to pull the fucking trigger! you’re pathetic. i can’t believe that you would ever fucking do this. you’re unfuckingbelieveable.” matt nods at all of your words, climbing into the car regardless. he knows all the words leaving your lips are true. he knows especially that you’re right while he’s driving off. chris and nate both know that they have options on what steps to take next. it takes a simple glance to each other to know what’s going to happen. nate heads inside to tell the guests of your wedding that it’s being called off. and chris is going to hold you while you cry. and you cry. and cry. and cry.

two weeks out

the knock on your apartment door makes you groan. you don’t wanna get out of bed. not today. you were supposed to be flying out for your honeymoon in milan today. it’s crazy how fast things change. regardless, you climb up and pad your way over to the door. chris, julian, and nick stand in front of you, nick instantly pulling you in for a remorseful hug. you begin to cry in his arms again as chris walks inside, looking around the much emptier apartment. it was the first place you and matt had ever owned together. it was crazy that you had even moved back here. “his stuff is um… in the box over in that corner. it’s just the shit he left here when we moved to the house.” you mumble, sitting back on your unmade bed. it hadn’t been made in weeks. you haven’t cleaned anything other than dirty dishes in weeks. if you weren’t so afraid of mold you wouldn’t have cleaned those either. 

it feels like everything is an empty shell of what it all used to be. every corner you look at feels like matt’s right there. you can hardly look at your best friend without seeing him. there’s still a picture of the two of you sitting on one of your old shelves, left behind when you had moved to your house in the first place. it was a picture of you and matt dancing on the terrace, taken by nick. the people on that picture felt like phantoms now. you wonder how the girl in the picture—the past version of you— would feel if she knew what would happen. “take that too. and anything that may be yours…” you whisper, wiping tears away from your face. chris frowns. he hates seeing you this down. you were usually so bright. the best smile in every room. he knows he shouldn’t, but he asks anyway.

“is americas sweetheart going to her dads award ceremony tomorrow? or is she gonna keep sulking in her apartment forever?” it’s supposed to make you feel better. somehow it kinda does. “yeah i’ll be there.” you whisper, pursing your lips. chris nods as he rubs your back gently, pressing a kiss to your forehead. you know you have a great support system around you, but you can’t help but feel empty. especially since deep down you know that the only support you seem to have is going to slip from your hands fairly soon. 

two months out

the constant flashing coming from the photographers of the Met Gala has never felt better. the theme of the year was especially fitting for you. beauties of the past vs horrors of the future. you had numerous brands reach out to you and offer to make your outfit, but you declined all of them. you decided to wear the dress you were supposed to get married in. as much as it hurt, it was meant to be the most beautiful of memories. you don’t even feel the need to hold back tears today. 

the last thing you could’ve ever expected was for matt and his brothers to be there. you had naturally lost touch with chris and nick over the months. you make your way up the Met stairs, constantly eying matt and his brothers.

once you moved forward at this event, you couldn’t move back. you’d have to wait until you got inside. 

when you find your seat, you think the event coordinators must have had it out for you. three months ago, matt wasn’t even meant to be here. and now he was seated at your table. right next to you. you’re the first to sit down, ordering a dirty shirley instantly. it doesn’t take long for matt and his brothers to join you. chris greets you normally. nick greets you with a smile. matt greets you with an apology, but not until his brothers leave the table.

“i’m so sorry for what i did. you were right. i was a coward. i guess i was… i don’t know. so scared to mess it up. mess us up. mess you up. i regret hurting you everyday.” he whispers, pressing kisses to your knuckles. you let it happen, biting your lip gently. you can’t help but blush at the actions, letting the warm feeling take over you. the love between you two was still undeniable. despite all of the things that had happened in the past few

months, it was all still there. it felt like you had placed the love in a casket and begun to bury it, but were still hesitating to fully put it to rest. “you look beautiful.” he whispers, this time straight into your ear. it hurts you to go back so easily, but it’s a lot easier to go home with him

tonight rather than never have him again. you wonder if it’s all a means to hurt you. if it’s all part of his scheme to

pull you back and then let you go again. part of you is telling you to make him stop. to apologize and tell him to leave. you can’t bring yourself to do it. you’re waltzing right back into his life. it’s a dance you’re willing to learn for him. 

two months and one day out.

the media had heard the news faster than you could even tell your own close friends and family. somehow, TMZ knew that you had gone home with matt before chris did. your head rested on matts bare chest, eyes staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom. it was a completely new house, one he owned with nick. he’d never had you in this room before this. right now, he had you in every sense. your dress laid on the floor near the foot of the bed. your lipstick was smudged all over his face. your underwear was god knows where. it was just like old times. except this time, there was a hole in your heart. you didn’t truly know or understand why. you were so convinced that if you ever got matt back that it’d be okay again. that you’d be you again. the same hole that was made in your heart when he first left you at the altar was still there. when matt speaks, you wonder if it’s the pillow talk or his genuine self. after that day, you can’t quite tell the difference. 

“you’re incredible… could never get sick of being here with you. as stupid as i may have been in the past. i love you so so much.” his words are empty. empty promises that hes trying to convince you are genuine.  you want to say it back so desperately the way you used to. but it’s never going to be the same again. your mind was flipping through everything you’ve ever been through together. you wonder how many lies he had told you throughout the relationship. somehow by the end of your thoughts, the goods outweighed the bad. you’re scared to let him in again. you push it all down to just being paranoia.

three months out. 

the last three months had been an absolute whirlwind of emotions. the week following the Met Gala had been one of the worst of your life. to your surprise, matt had completely ghosted you. it’s like all of his words the day that you were in his bed were nothing more than a script he read from to con girls. he was a conman and he was selling a love scheme. and you had stupidly fallen for it.

for the first time in nearly four years, you had been at a red carpet event with your father again. what used to be a time to photograph americas favorite couple had gone back to being a time to photograph americas favorite single father and his daughter. you knew that matt was one call away if you ever needed him. you would always have a red carpet date if you called. you would always have a friend if you called. you would always have him there in a way. 

the hole in your heart remained there. at this point you didn’t think it would ever fade away. you didn’t think it could ever be filled again. whether you found somebody new or not, it would never be him. it would never be the same youtube boy that you had fallen in love with at your party. it was like a switch within him had been flipped. the matthew sturniolo that you once knew was gone. the boy who was once so loving. the boy who would always reassure you that you were good enough. the boy who would always express his wants for a family. the boy who was so willing to jump first if you had asked. he was gone. you weren’t too sure who this new matt even was. the one who was the new hollywood playboy. the one who would make rude comments to people in public. the one who was now known for one night stands. the media could paint things however they wanted, but this time it was accurate. this time, the matthew sturniolo you knew at one point was gone. you’d see it until the day you died. matthew sturniolo was the loss of your life. 

a/n: apologies for my crimes against society. happy valentines day everybody!

dividers by @bernardsbendystraws and @13hoax

tags: @ifwdominicfike @frankoceanfanpage @mattssslutbby @sophand4n4 @matthewsturnsgf @izzylovesmatt @m11rx @chris-hallelujah @sturniolotoast @mattsbrat @wastelandzella @le4hsblog @mattsd0llfac3 @st7rnioioss @isabellewhatt @sturnslutz @princessesgarden @ikyoudreamofme @allylovescody @ivysturnss @slutformatt17 @user1smvtysturniolo @chrislova @emely9274 @sturns-mermaid @throatgoat4u @13hoax @camzeecorner @darksturnz @oopsiedaisydeer @jetaimevous @bernardsbendystraws @muwapsturniolo @riasturns @camzeecorner @darksturnz @oopsiedaisydeer @zebonos AND I REALLY HOPE IM NOT MISSING ANYBODY

[miwiheroes]

no because actually.

these are the moments that are improvised according to what i've found online and this is kind of crazy lmao:

the season 2 kiss at the Snow Ball

El falling onto Mike after defeating Billy

Mike and El's conversation in the grocery store in S3

Mike saying 'you're my superhero' in the monologue

Mike and El hugging in the airport in S4

give me some more if u know any but seriously the fact that a lot of the 'proof' is just not written into the script and instead just made up on the spot is so funny like babe the writers are not intending you to be a 'cute couple' ahhh

[yuurivoice]

I'm Writing A Novel, And I'm F*cking Terrified!

Not quite the headline you all might have been expecting, but yes, it's true! After writing hundreds of thousands of words over the past decade for all of my scripts, promotional material, and every other thing you could imagine—I'm looking to put pen to paper in the way I used to dream of. 

Long before I picked up a microphone and started making questionable noises into it, I was a storyteller. I wanted nothing more in my life than to create stories and characters that touched people, and most importantly, inspired them to create stories of their own. I was a seven year old kid fresh off of playing Final Fantasy VII when I knew I wanted to write. 

It was my first dream.

That dream and I have been on a wild roller coaster ride over the years. I've been in the trenches, roleplaying in dark corners of the internet. I've written professionally as a journalist all thanks to lowkey never telling anyone my age online as I got through high school. Oh, and while I was doing that, I was also writing sad boy poetry on LiveJournal and Myspace. 

You know me for my voice, but that voice has been developed through a lifetime of finding creative ways to string together enough words that when I slap a period at the end of it, the audience locks in. I've written 99% of what you've listened to from me. I take great pride in that, and that won't be changing any time soon.

The thing that brought me this far, the thing responsible for all of the daydreams and fantasies about wonderful worlds filled with characters and stories that fueled my creativity, was the hope that one day I'd write a novel.

If you've been a creative of any sort, you're likely very familiar with how effective hope is at creating something. It's a wonderful seed but until you start watering it and drag it out into the light of day, it cannot grow. So, consider this me dragging a big ass pot of soil out into the middle of our lovely little garden. 

There are so many beautiful stories we've grown together already: BitterSweet, Shattered, Lost & Found, and an entire extended universe that's coming to life in Evalas!

I want to create more. I want to entertain and inspire more. 

But what I don't want is to have come all this way and never taken a shot at the one dream I left behind. I want to write a novel. I have always wanted to write a novel. 

I don't give a damn if I'm scared. I don't care if I'm rusty and my writing is clumsy and ineloquent. I don't care that I have to dig deeper to find more time and energy to create and develop and refine. 

I'm able to say that because of you. 

Do you realize how powerful that is? That you could lift up someone who has been as tired and lost as I have been throughout my life? Have you seen me??? I'm a big son of a bitch!

This isn't me just saying thank you, though. I want to invite you along for the ride!

Let me introduce you to Ryland Dane. If you’ve enjoyed my storytelling thus far, I have a feeling you’ll appreciate what this fella has in store for the future! Every follow on every platform makes a huge difference and helps fuel this rocket we’re going to ride on this journey, and I appreciate you very much.

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If you are in the industry, a beta reader, editor, agent, or published author and would be interested in working with me in the future, please don't hesitate to reach out to my business email at rylanddanewrites@gmail.com! I'm sure there are a few of you lurking, and I am always keen on working with professionals who are familiar with my work and this journey I've been on!

[goldenamaranthe-blog]

Who Dares Summon Me: Human Vaggie & Charlie

Vaggie: (sitting in the living room of a piece of shit apartment and reading from a "demon summoning" book. the sound of gunfire and police sirens barely even registers to her ears anymore)

Vaggie: Okay, so I got the Pentagram, a goat (glances at two goat plushies she stole from a name brand toy store) Fuckers will live..... they make millions in a day.

Vaggie: Candles... (glances at the Bath & Body Works, cinnamon and vanilla scented candles)

Vaggie: And... blood.... uh.... (Looks at the bucket filled with water, corn syrup, red food coloring, and cocoa powder to help create a blood effect) Fuck... demons can tell the difference between real and fake blood, right? Dammit.

Vaggie: (cuts her finger with her pocket knife and lets] a few drops fall into the bucket) There. That should work. Now, let's see-

Lute: (comes out of her room half naked and throws a pair of panties at Vaggie) Yo, Vagina! Adam stole your underwear again as a prank, I guess. Here.

Vaggie: (gawks as she catches the garment and spikes it to the floor) Lute! What the fuck?! Can't you control your fucking boyfriend??? How did he even get into my room?! I keep it locked for that reason.

Lute: (grabs a beer out of the fridge, pops the cap off on the counter, starts chugging, and flips off Vaggie as she returns to her room for whatever round she and Adam are on)

Vaggie: Sick perverted sons of bitches... (turns back to the book) Read the forbidden script and make a pact. (Scoffs) Okay, edge lords. I'll give it a go.

Vaggie: (recites the script with some difficulty)

..........

Vaggie: (relaxes her back against the couch) Can't say I'm surprised. I literally bought this online for six-

-Fire tornado erupts from the Pentagram and burning red eyes stare down at Vaggie from the inferno-

Demon Charlie: WHO dares summon the powerful Princess of Hell- Oh, fuck!!! (Trips over the bucket and falls face first into Vaggie's lap, revealing that she is wearing a red dress with black thigh high stockings)

Vaggie: Jesus Fucking Christ!!!

Demon Charlie: (face still pressed against Vaggie's crotch) You have a very comfortable lap.

Vaggie: (grabs demon's horns and pulls her up so they're sitting in front of each other) You're actually a demon?

Demon Charlie: (blinks) Considering the fact that you're still holding my horns, I have this adorable little tail (waves her heart-shaped tail in hello), and I came straight up from Hell because of your summoning circle. Yup! (Sees the plushies and gasps) Oh! You even gave Razzle and Dazzle their own conduits! You're so sweet!

Vaggie: ...........Who?

Demon Charlie: Razzle and Dazzle! You know. My pets. It's written in chatper six, paragraph five, sentence three. (Snaps her fingers and the two goat plushies turn into two living goat demons with wings)

Vaggie: (scouring the book) What?!

Demon Charlie: (snuggling her boys) Also, I know you had to use a little of your own blood to make this work, which I promise to help heal that cut on your finger by the way, but Thank You So Much for just using fake blood! I always feel so bad when people actually use a bucket of real blood. I usually let my dad take those summonings.

Vaggie: (glances at the bucket rolling across the floor then back to the demon) Y-Youre dad?

Demon Charlie: Lucifer, the King of Hell. (Light bulb goes off) Oh! I never completed my introduction! I'm Charlie Morningstar, Princess of Hell and heir to the throne. Pleased to meet you!

Vaggie: Uh.... Vaggie.... I never would have expected the Princess of Hell to be so..... bubbly....

Demon Charlie: I get that a lot. Now! What can I do for you? How can I help? Do you need money? Power? A soul you'd like for me to devour?

Vaggie: N-No... nothing quite like that....

Demon Charlie: Oh, thank Satan! I hate eating souls. Most of them taste so bad!

Vaggie: Uh-huh.... Well.... I don't really have anything for you. I got bored and decided I'd try this out...

Demon Charlie: (disappointed) Really? But you sold me your virginity. Surely, there's something you want in exchange!

Vaggie: I'm sorry. WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?

Demon Charlie: Drop of virgin blood and (holds up Vaggies lavender panties) an article of clothing that covers your most intimate desire.

Vaggie: (silently screaming)

Demon Charlie: H-Hey! If it makes you feel any better, I'm still a virgin, too! (Under her breath) Not from lack of trying on other asshole's accunts, but still....

Vaggie: Ay, Dios mio!

Demon Charlie: Well, I can't take your payment until you come up with something you want, soooooooo! (Transforms into a human)

Charlie: (snuggles up to Vaggie's side) I'll just have to stay here with you until you come up with something!

Vaggie: (catatonic)