#please to enjoy

[spnscripthunt-inactive]

Scripts? ✔️

Call Sheets? ✔️

Shooting Schedules? ✔️

One Line Schedules? ✔️

35mm Scans? ✔️

Dailies? ✔️

[azurecatboy]

ffxivwrite: Halcyon

This is me makeup prompt. I'd written a good bit day-of but couldn't quite bang out the home stretch. I'm not 100% satisfied with the ending. But I diiiid have a lot of fun writing bb Rhein'ir. So enjoy that :>

Övöö is pronounced in the Mongolian way, btw.

~*~*~

The early morning sun over the Black Shroud dappled the forest floor with a mixture of its bright light and various shades of green reflected from the foliage above. Very unlike the Shroud's namesake, though some would assume it to actually come from the dark nature of the deeper parks of the Twelveswood.

Temujin, however, knew enough about the forest from his many visits over the last twenty or so summers to steer his tribe clear of anything that would put them in harm's way. They had arrived the day prior, having built most of their yurts, so that way their first morning in was much more relaxed. Only the detail work remained, and Temujin's eldest had insisted that he could-and would-handle it.

The older auri man scoffed to himself. Being treated like an old man at not even fifty years of age. 

Ridiculous.

Still, he supposed that the sooner Jun knew the ins and outs of leading their tribe, the better. More time for Temujin to be there to guide him when he took full responsibility, an easier transition. For both of them.

All that aside, it also gave him more time to indulge in his hobbies.

Temujin settled further into his ‘seat’ of the forest floor, crossing his legs and pulling his morin khuur into his lap. But as he raised his bow to play, an energetic call stopped him short.

“‘Vö!!”

The au ra had just enough time to look over his shoulder to catch a blur of blue and green before it collided with his back, knocking the wind out of him and nearly toppling him over. He managed to hold fast, setting the instrument aside and righting himself with a wheeze. 

He felt the weight on his back shift and what he knew to be a bunt against the back of his head, then a pair of little arms was wrapping around his neck in a haphazard hug. He thanked the Dawn Mother for giving him the thick scales round his neck that kept him from any potential choking.

“Well now,” he held back a cough, “is that a little hunter at my back?”

“Yah!”

The weight shifted again as the young miqo'te lad slid down Tenujin's back. His visitor rolled over on the ground to his side, stopping with a flop on his back to cheese a sharp toothed grin up at him.

“Hi, ‘Vö!” 

The miqo’te threw his arms up, little clawed hands making a grabbing motion that screamed for him to be picked up.

Temujin obliged with a deep chuckle, easily picking him up-though the au ra made note he was definitely heavier since he last saw him-and righting him, setting him in his lap. The boy's hair was a mess of blue and green-the green from both his natural highlights and the many leaves that he had collected in his tumble. 

“Hello, Rhein'ir. You didn't come out here all on your own, did you?”

The boy shook his head, “Naw, Mama an’ Mum both-”

“Rhein'ir!!” He winced at the distressed cry of his name, expression guilty as his Mum ran up to them, sliding to a stop. Her long, soft purple hair fell into her face when she doubled over to catch her breath, “Rhein'ir, please.” She looked up at him, brushing some of the hair aside and tucking it behind her horns, “You know better than to run off alone.”

Rhein'ir pouted, ears folding back, and he mumbled a soft, ‘Sorry, Mummy..’

Temujin sighed, patting the miqo'te on his head, “I'm sure it was alright, Nariko. You walked him most of the way here, no? And we both know my grandson here is a brave little hunter,” he scratched behind the lad's ears. Both the praise and the soothing comfort of somr good scratches turning his mood right back around. If his soft purrs were anything to go by. “I'm sure he could have handled himself for… What? A five yalm jog?”

The woman, Nariko, righted herself and mumbled, “It was probably closer to seven, but yes, alright. You have made your point, father.”

Not too far behind Nariko was her wife, D'sezah, who walked up at a much more casual pace with their second oldest in tow. “See? Told you he'd be jus’ fine, Nari.”

Nariko crossed her arms with a quiet huff, “Well, rather than attacking a worrying mother on two fronts, perhaps you can direct us to where our help is needed?”

“You'll have to ask your brother about that, seeing as I have been given orders to rest today.” His thick tail lifted and fell back to the ground with a quiet thump, a show of irritation. “I do know your mother is helping some of our tribe members in preparing breakfast.” He leaned back to look past his daughter, making eye contact with D'sezah, “And I'm sure there is need of your carpentry skills somewhere, Sezah, I would also advise you to find Jun and ask as to where.”

D'sezah gave a thumbs up and a ‘thanks, Da.’ before turning on her heel to head towards the direction of the encampment, tail wrapping around her daughter to guide her afterwards. “C'mon, Rhein'ir, ‘m sure you wanna help out with any woodwork.”

“Nooo!” Rhein'ir ducked his head down, tucking it under his grandfather's chin and hiding his face in his collar, “I wanna stay with ‘Vö.”

Temujin couldn't help laughing at his antics, “Rhein'ir, my son, we arrived only yesterday. I can promise you, I am not going away anytime soon.” Though he had said that, he contradicted himself when he hugged Rhein'ir close to his chest.

The boy popped his head back out, looking up at him, “But you were gonna play, yeah?? I wanna listen, I missed it!” He pouted, mumbling the last part quietly, “I missed you…”

Nariko watched the fondness light up in her father’s eyes. She turned and shared a look with D'sezah, a silent conversation of a few seconds between them before the au ra sighed. She turned back to address her father and her son both, “Alright. As long as you stay with Övöö, you can listen to him play until ‘tis time for breakfast.”

Rhein'ir whooped, throwing his hands up and flopping onto his back to roll out of Temujin's lap and make way for the morin khuur. As his grandfather set the instrument to play once again, he scooted around until he had a clear view while laying on his belly.

Eyes wide and eager, he crossed his arms on the ground in front of him and laid his head on top, tail wagging in excited anticipation.

D'sezah shook her head and smiled, then called out, “Alright Rhein'ir, we're headin’ out, now.”

Rhein'ir's ear canted towards her call, but he gave no other indication he had heard, much too preoccupied. She snorted. “Yeah, he ain't goin’ anywhere. C'mon, then.”

Rhein'ir was vaguely aware of his family's exit, but then Temujin raised his bow once again with a fangy grin, drawing any stray bit of attention back to him.

And the moment his grandfather started to play…

Nothing else mattered to the boy.

~

While Rhein'ir wandered around Reunion, searching for any one member of the Mol tribe, he felt…

Strange.

He had never been here before, but so much of the scene was familiar to him. The clothing, the way the wood of the stalls was carved and how they were held together, the craftsmanship of most of the tools and many of the trinkets being sold. 

Gods, the smell of the food.

And most anything that he hadn't seen before, he was able to piece together what they were from the many stories his grandfather had told him of the Steppe.

The weird feeling of nostalgia and what must have been… 

Guilt? 

Guilt that this wasn't his home, so why would he-why did he-feel the most comfortable he had been in so many moons, since stepping across the threshold of Baelsar's Wall into Gyr Abania?

Guilt that he couldn't bring himself to lean into these good feelings and maybe even smile, genuinely.

Like he'd promised he would.

His chest began to tighten, these feelings making him even more impatient in his search for the Mol. It was starting to become too much and-while part of him didn't want to wind up biting the head off of whoever spoke to him next or came too close to him-the part of him that just didn't care anymore was growing again.

Overflowing.

Swallowing him up, suffocating.

He grabbed at his arm, digging his nails in to try bringing himself back to reality.

“Fuck.” He hissed the curse out between grit teeth. “Get it, together, damned f-”

“Rhein'ir?”

Rhein'ir jumped, turning to see Lyse looking at him, mouth turned down on a concerned frown. “Gods, Lyse, what's got you sneakin’ up on people like that?”

The woman's frown turned to more of a pout, “It's not like I was trying to sneak up on you…” she tilted her head, “Are you alright.”

“Aye. Yep. Jus�� got a bit distracted, is all.”

“Hmm..”

“‘M fine, Lyse, really. An’ s'not like we can afford t'stop lookin-” he cut himself off that time, ears canting to point futher down the way from them. His gaze followed in turn to see an auri man who had settled on a woven rug, rolled out onto the ground on the opposite side of the next stall, an all-too-familiar instrument in his lap. 

In but a few notes of the song the man had started to play, the tightness in Rhein’ir’s chest loosened, and he quietly let out a long exhale through his nose. 

Lyse, thrown off by just how quickly Rhein’ir’s mood seemed to have shifted, leaned over to peer around the miqo'te. She looked at the man playing, then back up to her friend, who seemed completely transfixed on the music. With a hum, she stood up straight again. She couldn't remember the last time Rhein'ir had seemed so…

Relaxed. Rather than interrupt whatever was going on, she pat his shoulder and stepped back a few fulms. She mouthed, ‘have fun’ even though she was sure if she had said it aloud, he hardly would have registered it. When she spotted Rhein’ir’s tail swaying, just a bit, she smiled, turning away to go and continue the search for the Mol.

[mystalwartheart]

CWs for trauma and PTSD; par for the course for Resident Evil. I've mentioned this before (though if you're reading this in the future going through my tags you might not know that, in which case, hello future friend!), but one thing I think that sets my take on Jill and Resident Evil apart is the way I approach trauma and PTSD.

A lot of fans single the RE series out as a good depiction of trauma in video games, but I actually don't agree. Speaking as someone who's dealt with trauma a lot IRL in myself and in my family, I personally don't think it's something canon handles all that sensitively or responsibly. It would be naïve to suggest the protagonists aren't traumatized by their experiences. Of course they are. It's common in military personnel, let alone military personnel fighting against insane eugenicists with private zombie armies. But there's a big difference between showing a character dealing with trauma and showing them dealing with trauma badly for dramatic convenience. And that's not even getting into whether or not the trauma is even depicted accurately: Not every traumatic event leaves you with PTSD, for example, and PTSD isn't always screamingly obvious. Both of these are things I think those sequels which have tried to actively engage with trauma as a character trait or plot device (not naming any names here) have a tendency to fall down on.

For both personal and narrative reasons I like writing characters processing their trauma in healthy ways. I think it's important to show that, and it's also validating, safe and helpful for me too. I portray Jill as a woman who's gone through traumatic events, and has had to heal from them. It's arguably her central character arc, and it defines her relationship with Ashley. But Jill is also a professional: She would have undergone extensive and extreme psychological training as a recruit to prepare her for the kinds of situations she'd be faced with, and since I envision S.T.A.R.S. as a combination search and rescue/special forces/military intelligence organization with the authority to investigate and prosecute certain cases like violent homicides, that covers a lot of gnarly ground.

I also don't think Jill is even the kind of person who would handle that in a destructive way - I don't think the thought would ever cross her mind (now Leon on the other hand...). Her core virtue is survival: She's dedicated her life to helping and serving others, and she knows she has to stay alive and healthy for not just her sake, but for the sake of the people she loves and who love her and those she has sworn to protect. She's committed to helping build a better future, and that's one of the things that keeps her going.

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Singing your heart out in Martin's cell, it being the first time he's had anyone so comfortable around him since he was caught. Getting so caught off guard when he starts singing with you bcs like??? He learned the song you were singing just cause you liked it??? And his VOICE. Holy shit. Michael Sheen has no right to sound as good as he does in every single role goddamn

Hello my dear,

Sorry this one took me so long!

It's not exactly like your request, but it's where the vibe took me!

Here you go!

Michael Sheen does know how to throw some bars that's very true.

[priestessamy]

RE: Kindle

Got first honorable mention in my company's writing contest. So I figure I'm probably good to share this here.

* * *

She’s had this perpetual look of exhaustion lately. And I’m not an idiot, I know where that look is coming from. Me, of course. Who else?

And who could possibly blame her? We were so close, Once Upon a Time. She was so full of ideas and stories, and I would support her and listen intently for hours at a time. I would bring her some new gift to spark her creativity, and then bask in the glow of her joy as she shared new universes with me.

But then things got in the way, as they always do. College and grad school, text books and scholarly articles. More than a few identity crises. And so much moving. Life just kept happening, and the gap between us grew and grew until it was a chasm that seemed impossible to bridge.

Sure, I still brought her gifts, but it just wasn’t the same. They were little more than fascinating trinkets and treasures to burden her with—pretty little things to suit me, not her. She was my trophy cabinet, my dress-up doll, my darling centerpiece.

And while she sat there, weighed down, waiting for me to wake up and remember that she exists to be more than that, I let myself get distracted by each shiny new thing that crossed my path. When I booted up yet another video game, I’d catch her disappointed glances out of the corner of my eye. When I settled in at the end of a long day, I streamed some meaningless TV show instead of paying attention to her. Cruelest of all, I would lie to her and say that we could snuggle up together in bed at night, before deciding at the last minute that I was too tired, and watch videos on my phone until I fell asleep.

But that’s not the end of our story. I can’t say we’ve reached a Happily Ever After. But following some difficult late-night conversations, and more than a few interventions from concerned friends and lovers, I’m putting in the effort again. Now that I’m making my own worlds, my own narratives, I’m reminded of just how beautiful and wonderful her creativity can be. We’re rediscovering all those things about her that I let myself forget. Her incredible artwork, her wonderful sense of humor, and a loyalty that I took for granted.

I’m so sorry, dearest Bookshelf, that I ever made you feel neglected. A thousand apologies that you were denoted To-Be-Read, always left in the future tense. I’m so, so happy to see you smiling again. I’m smiling too. Let’s explore a million realities. Together.

[save-mohamed-family]

My campaign is verified and added to the Gaza Donations page with number 192.

Thank you for documenting my campaign from the following accounts:

@sar-soor @heba-20

@el-shab-hussein

@90-ghost @soon-palestine

@ibtisams @marnota @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @i-am-aprl @northgazaupdates @fallahifag @fairuzfan

I love you all 🙏🙏♥️🌹

I am Mohammed Almanasra, 32 years old, married, and a father of three children: Abdulrahman, 6 years old, Sarah, 4 years old, and Lina, 3 years old.

My story began with the loss of my parents and four of my sisters, who were bombed and lost their lives along with their children after the events of October 7 and the severe war on Gaza. Now, I am facing a severe injury to my leg, which is at risk of amputation if I do not receive the necessary treatment. My wife, children, and I are displaced, without parents or siblings, and my wife is also suffering from uterine cancer.

Recently, I moved to the south of the Gaza Strip, fearing for the lives of my children. We left behind our memories and our new home, for which we had not finished paying the installments, in addition to losing my job. Currently, I live in a tent that does not protect me from the heat of summer or the cold of winter, and without the minimum necessary livinng basics including water, food medical care, clothe and even bedding .

I suffer from a chronic asthma and severe attacks from tightness and an extreme allergy in the ear and I need medicine that are not available, or very expensive .

Under these difficult circumstances, after five attempts at displacement and narrowly escaping death from the bombing, I am trying with all my might to protect my family, the most precious thing I have.

My dreams were shattered, and my house was destroyed, and I found myself living in a tent no larger than 4 square metres. My work turned from a tailor to a street vendor in order to barely buy a few crumbs of bread to feed my children.

Look at what happened to my children because of the intense heat and the insects that thrive in the summer season. Every day, I take them to the hospital to treat them due to poisonous insect bites. I implore every kind-hearted soul to help me protect my children.

My son, Abdul Rahman, has a deep passion for playing football and is a devoted fan of Real Madrid. He always dreamed of playing football at his school, but the war prevented this dream from coming true.

Where are you, Real Madrid fans ?

Help Abdul Rahman achieve his dream.

Every donation will make an enormous difference in helping me save my family.

I feel very sad and embarrassed to ask for help, but I have no other options left. I know that this request is difficult, but I also know that there is still humanity and living consciences and I believe in miracles.

Your support during this extremely difficult time will give us hope in the midst of devastation and despair.

If you have any inquiries or questions, feel free to ask me, please!

To everyone with a compassionate heart,

To all who understand the essence of humanity,

This is a message from my innocent children, who trust that their words will reach everyone who truly understands the meaning of childhood.

We cry out to you, asking you to feel our sorrow and pain, and to extend a helping hand to us in this time when we are in desperate need of your mercy and compassion.

My name is being repeatedly added to many public and private donation campaigns. Please, be a support for me in this difficult situation.

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/u/0/d/1yYkNp5U3ANwILl2MknJi9G7ArY4uVTEEQ1CVfzR8Ioo/htmlview

@communistchilchuck 🫶🇵🇸

@nabulsi

@sayruq

@communistchilchuck @90-ghost @sar-soor @fairuzfan @ibtisams @fallahifag @vakarians-babe @palipunk @palestinecharitycommissionsassoc @stil-lindigo @vakarian-shepard @northgazaupdates

@faggotfungus @ghost-and-a-half @three-croissants @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @magnus-rhymes-with-swagness @marnota @northgazaupdates

Sincere greetings & thanks

Mohammed & the family

[littlemsterious]

i was thinking about that post comparing Jessica Rabbit as an asexual to Barbie and an asexual and then i thought of the Neil Gaiman post (was it a post?) about Crowley and Aziraphale being asexual sexless and then this happened.

anyways. thoughts?

sorry it took so long I meant to do this a week ago but my brain is full of rocks.

[Image ID a three sided venn diagram. the big circles show Margot Robbie's Barbie sitting in front of a mirror, Jessica and Roger Rabbit from the poster of Who Framed Roger Rabbit, and Aziraphale and Crowley from Good Omens standing back to back. Between Barbie and Jessica Rabbit it says "sexualised by society". Between Jessica Rabbit and Aziraphale and Crowley it says "Knows what sex is". Between Aziraphale and Crowley and Barbie it says "no reproductive system(?)". the center is the asexual flag. End ID]

Also i haven't seen the Barbie movie as of this edit so at least please tag your spoilers.

[emberglowfox]

Keeper -- a short comic about an angel meeting a robotic lighthouse keeper that doesn't know the world has already ended. Made in about 18 hours for a 24-hour 24-page* black and white comic challenge (that I arrived late to, ha.)

*the actual submission does not include the cover, which was created after the fact for this post.

This was a really great learning experience as someone who's... never really made a completed comic. I ended up really attached to the story by the end of the project (possibly due to all-nighter deliriousness lol) and ultimately am very proud of what I made.There are some things I'd still like to change, particularly text placement, but in keeping with the spirit of the challenge I've elected to leave it as is.

[captainfern]

boyfriend’s best friend simon

(18+ smut, fem!reader, infidelity but your boyfriends a cunt if that makes you feel better)

—•—

you don’t know how this happened. you don’t know when this happened. all you know is that it is happening, and you really don’t want it to stop.

simon’s everything that your boyfriend isn’t. has everything that he lacks. communication, understanding, selflessness; commonsense, emotional intelligence, a big cock,

the list goes on, frankly.

but here you are, your bedroom sweltering around you, swimming beneath distorted waves in your vision. convection currents radiating from your conjoined bodies.

simon’s hands were large and calloused on the soft fat of your hips, fingers toying with the taut lines of stretch marks passing onto the thick of your upper thighs. his hands gripped and pulled and moved you against him, slamming you up and down, grinding you against him.

he was leaned up against the headboard of your bed, head cocked back with dark, hungry eyes glued to your body and a coy smirk plastered across his face. the way he looked at you, gazed you, admired you as if you were some kind of prize, had your stomach in knots.

maybe you were a prize. after all, he was balls-deep in his best friend’s girl, and he didn’t have a care in the world. didn’t have a care in the world that his cock had chubbed instantly when she opened the door to let him in an hour ago.

you panted above him, thighs burning, shins pressed into the warm sheets of your bed. you were hesitant to be on top, to perch your body weight across his pelvis. your boyfriend never assured you it’d be okay, just agreed with you and fucked you flat on the mattress. simon was different.

“what? think i can’t handle myself a girl like you, eh?” simon had uttered, looking you up and down. a prize. he was also knuckle-deep in your pussy by this stage, two fingers scissoring you open. “oh, sweet girl, you have no idea.”

and now you were here. straddling simon riley, the formidable ghost that you’d seen only occasionally with your boyfriend. a recluse of a man, a mountain of a man. was always kind, always respectful.

an army dog, a government mutt. always so obedient, and so polite. well-trained and well-mannered. clearly, until he had a pretty bird like you stretched across his lap. a prize.

“yeah, ride this fuckin’ cock, baby,” simon grunted, helping you fuck yourself down onto his cock. his thick, fat cock— a cock that hit you so deep, stretched you so wide, that the joke of ‘is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?’ had died on your tongue because, holy fuck,

he could use it. he knew what he was doing. you should have guessed it with the way he spat on your cunt ten minutes into you letting him into your flat; the way he licked the glob of spit from your wet folds and fucked it into you, tongue warm and searching. you also should have guessed when he rubbed at your clit with his thumb while stretching you open on his fingers; the way he moved them at just the right pace to make you come twice in a row. now:

“s’all yours, baby. s’all yours,” he uttered, pushing his hips upwards to meet your downwards movements.

your tits bounced with each of his thrusts, the mattress creaking beneath you. the sheets were bunching, the heat in the room thick and molten. liquid, drowning you.

you gasped, air in your lungs. you were not drowning, just fucking delirious with the way his cockhead knocked up towards the plug of your cervix.

panting, you clutched at his shoulders. broad and muscular. you could feel the difference in texture where skin ended and scar began. a few times, your fingers wandered upwards, and you drew the tips through his hair. once cropped, now grown out. scruffy, rugged,

handsome. sweat beaded on his forehead, turning the lighter strands dark, sticking to his skin. between the filth he spewed from his mouth, you could hear him grunting and moaning. you wished he’d moan louder. maybe once he stopped talking it’d be different. but you weren’t sure how soon that would be.

“fuckin’— look at the fuckin’ state of you. such a pretty girl. such a pretty— fuckin’— girl,” simon groaned, thrusting up into you. the force made you hiccup around a long moan. simon smiled, triumphant. “look like a dream takin’ all o’ my cock, sweetheart. perfect little pussy letting me stretch her open, huh?”

“simon,” you moaned, and that wasn’t the first time you’d said his name tonight. but he acted as though it was.

a dog with a bone, simon flashed a wicked grin, canines showing, and redoubled his efforts in pushing his cock in and out of you, rutting against your body.

“yeah, baby, i’m here. your simon’s righttttt here,” he said, grinning, as he took one of his large hands and placed it over the mound of your belly, pressing gently and squeezing you there. he couldn’t actually feel his cock inside you, but the added sensation knocked an airy moan from your chest, your eyes rolling. simon hummed, pleased as he fucked you. “‘m reaching so far, aren’t i? so deep. bet your lad couldn’t reach up here, could he?”

you whimpered, and you wanted to whimper a ‘noooo’ but it died in transit. instead, you whimpered, like a wounded dog, as his cock hit that perfect spot inside you. it made you want to scream.

you continued to bounce against him, his thighs pressed close to yours. he fondled you, squeezed your hips while you both worked each other towards release.

“simon,” you pleaded, breathless. “oh, fuck—”

simon wanted so badly to beam with pride. but he resisted, cocking his head and watching the way your greedy cunt sucked his cock in with wet squelches at each upward thrust.

“you feeling good, sweet girl?” he asked, tone warm and honey-sweet. well-trained. then, “this cock making you feel good? he followed with an obvious lilt. mutt.

you replied with a yes, that trailed off into a high-pitched moan when simon’s thumb found your swollen clit, rubbing against it and beginning to draw small, tight circles.

“thaaat’s it, baby. sing for me.”

“siiimon,” you mewled, body tiring but stomach growing tight. bubbling hot, molten like the atmosphere of your bedroom. the knot in the base pulling tighter and tighter with each nudge of his cock against your g-spot.

your cunt was soaked around him, dripping out onto his pelvis and onto your bedsheets. making a mess.

tight, velveteen walls clutched at his cock as your climax built. gripping tight, holding him against you, keeping him with you. wet and warm and the closest to heaven a non-religious man like simon’ll ever come close to.

“beautiful,” he suddenly whispered, eyes on your face now. “beautiful girl.”

well-trained. damn, your boyfriend wasn’t even close to being this well-trained. he was more used to chewing you up like a toy, and heading off to do god knows what once he’d finished. once he’d satisfied himself.

you weren’t a toy for simon. just a prize. much different than a toy, for your information.

a toy is something you play with. a prize is something treasure. savour. and with the way simon revelled at the silky feel of your pussy against his bare cock, he intended to savour you forever.

“you wanna come?” he asked softly, but you knew the soft tone wasn’t going to last. not with the way his eyes glinted, his soft abs flexed, and his mouth curved at the corners. “can feel this pussy startin’ to make a fuss. so desperate for it, isn’t she?”

personifying your pussy. a new one, but one you weren’t entirely afraid of.

so you answered. “yes. simon, please—“

simon quickened his pace, thrusting deeper. your flesh rippled, thighs and stomach and tits moving with the sheer force of his movements. he grunted and panted, eyes drooping, fingers tight in your hips, chasing his own high too. he still had a hard-working finger drawing sharp shapes across your puffy clit.

“go on then. come all over my cock, sweet girl. show me what i’ve been missing out on.”

the tension in your body grew and grew, sweat accumulating across your skin. shiny, dewy, completely ethereal, you hurtled towards release with wind in your sails. sweating, hot, on the brink of overstimulation, you let your mind go fuzzy. you had a heartbeat in your clit. you could feel the stickiness of your inner-thighs. you could hear simon,

“come for me, baby.”

the coil snapped as if on cue. maybe you were the well-trained dog in need of a new collar.

your release rocked you off balance, and you slumped forward, ready for simon to catch you. he did, of course, leaning you against his chest as your body shook, twitched, jerked with the force of your orgasm. it travelled through you like electric shocks. an electrical current that fizzled out after a few long seconds, and left you boneless against simon’s chest.

he was close behind you, his balls drawing tight, tip leaking inside you, flared head now ruddy and red.

he moaned. “god, baby. feel so good around me.” a speechless moment, filled only with pants and— moans. simon moaned loudly, eyes snapping shut as his orgasm quivered inside him. bees trapped in a glass jar.

“just needed a proper cock to split you open,” he said suddenly, voice deep and rich. “pretty girl like you needs a big cock to keep her happy.”

rutting, in and out. desperate mutt. canines flashing, grip tightening, moans increasing. military stamina you hoped wouldn’t last all night. a working dog, too, this man. god, what a man. not perfect (you wouldn’t want him to be), but pretty fuckin’ close right about now.

“simon,” you whined, desperate.

he groaned deeply. “oh yeah, fuck, that’s it, baby. say my name— yeah, say my name when i come inside you.”

“simon…”

“that’s it, baby. that’s it. fuck, m’so close. m’so close, baby, keep going.”

“simon, please—!”

“mhm, thaaat’s it, fuck,” simon moaned, then shoved his cock as far in as it’d go (making you gasp and choke on a loud moan) and then came inside you.

you felt the heat. more heat, more liquid fire. molten. lava. you were drowning again.

he filled you, cum painting your insides as he moaned out your name, whining as his head flopped backwards, his large hands keeping you firmly in place.

then, everything stilled. your heartbeat clanged loudly in your ears, heavy in your rib cage. your puffy clit beat in tandem with it, and your hole fluttered around his cock, now still and plugging his release inside you.

for the briefest moment, as you lay against simon’s chest in the warm, sex-laden air of your bedroom, you thought of your boyfriend. the man you should’ve been doing all of this with.

but the thought was merely a linger. it flitted away, brushed aside by simon’s lips, that came to rest against your tacky forehead. he peppered a few kisses there, rubbing your hips, arse and back soothingly as you fizzled down.

“pretty girl…” simon whispered softly, hugging you to him. “my pretty girl.”

his prize.

he always thought his mate was a bit of a prick, anyway.

[themadknightuniverse]

Loustat short comics - There is nothing else until the storm is over - Interview with the Vampire TV Series

text transcription under the cut ⬇️

Fake magazine illustration

Page 1 Daniel : So, tell me... Did you see Lestat again?

Page 2 Louis : When he's not on Tour, he would occasionally visits.

Page 3 Daniel : So you're what, now? Friends?

Louis : [Hello Lestat.]

Lestat : [Hello Louis.]

It would be too simple. You know us.

Louis : [ That's new. Still enjoying the glitz and glamor?]

But there is this arrangement we are both fine with.

Page 4 When two people hurt each other so deeply, what is left afterwards?

Page 5 Things like that, it seals doors once still unlocked at the time. Can time really heal everything?

[Mets moi dans mon cercueil, Louis, Louis...]

Page 6 [Stay down chéri, I don't want to fight like this. I'll stay. I'll stay, I'll never leave you ever again. I promise. I'll be happy. For you. For her. Please please please please]

Some things were flipped over to show the truth. Others, I learned to see differently. I faced my wrongs.

[I'll be anything please please please please please please. I didn't know it was a gift. I wore it like a curse. I was selfish. I wanted you to suffer. Because I was. Suffering. I came to thank you.]

Page 7 Do we love each other still? Yes. Can we live under the same roof, share the same spaces, the same bed, for an extended period of time, again? No. But this raging, all devouring passion, it is now replaced by something that can never be altered. Is this the price we had to pay to finally be equals?

Page 8 We have never been more understanding of each other. A shadow of something that could have been from the start. Friendly jokes. Bickering I will never admit enjoying. Respect. And then, the always surprising softness. So eerie after all that happened. Yet, we always welcome it.

Page 9 Daniel : [How dramatic. Not ready to live together again, yet he's all over your coffee table.]

Louis: [I didn't buy these.]

Daniel : [Sure. Will you let me know the next time he passes by?]

Louis : [Well I can't. This is his safe place. You will have to find him by yourself I'm afraid.]

Daniel : [Of course. He can't make anything easy. As if he didn't have enough safe places with his ten properties.]

Page 10 Louis: [Nice chat. Bye, Daniel.]

Lestat : [Only when I'm not on Tour, hm?]

Louis [Approximately.]

Lestat : [Thanks.]

Louis : [Did you really just say thank-]

Lestat: *kisses Louis* [...too soon?]

Page 11 Louis : Almost a century is enough waiting.

[saveranafamily]

This is a story of Rana's Akeela family just read the story and don't skip it.

In the heart of Gaza, amidst the chaos of conflict on Tilal al-Hawa Street, our family's journey of displacement began. Our humble home, where generations of memories were woven into its walls—laughter, tears, and dreams—is now a place overshadowed by fear and uncertainty.

As aggression escalated, the once familiar sound of bombs became relentless, shaking the ground beneath our feet and shattering the peace we cherished. Day by day, we clung together, finding strength in our unity amid the turmoil.

With each passing moment, the danger grew, and we faced an impossible decision: to stay and risk our lives, or to flee in search of safety. With heavy hearts, we chose to leave behind everything we held dear, carrying only the essentials as we embarked on a perilous journey through streets strewn with rubble and constant danger.

Now, stripped of our home and the security it provided, we find ourselves in the darkest days of our lives, lacking shelter, stability, and the basic necessities to survive. The reality of our situation is harsh, and we appeal to your kindness and generosity to help us escape the conflict zone, where hope for a decent living feels beyond reach.

Your support would mean the world to us, providing a chance to rebuild our lives away from the conflict's grip and to find a safe haven where we can begin anew. Every contribution, no matter the size, brings us closer to a future where we can once again know peace and stability.

Hence, I humbly appeal to you to help us leave the Gaza Strip. So that we can have a decent living.

@sar-soor @xinakwans @communistchilchuck @nabulsi @90-ghost @soon-palestine @ibtisams @marnota @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @i-am-aprl @northgazaupdates2

[parakavka]

my partner has about 3 genres of youtube video they watch, so I've decided to combine them all into what would be their Ideal Video

[drac0line1nn1t]

Part 1 | Part 2

[theoldkyokodied]

The Allegiance of the Ascended Vampire and the New God of Magic

[little-eye-guy]

"this is too raw of a line to come from—" shut up. beauty and meaning is everywhere

[zillychu]