#wm brown

[thurstongrey]

[speakspeak]

WM Project — Mood Board

[alyandajstyle]

Aly for the Wm Brown x New & Lingwood collab | Saint-Yzans-de-Médoc, France | posted 3 August 2023

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Wm Brown x New & Lingwood 'Navy Tonal Stripe Unlined Seersucker Dressing Gown,' $1,495 [available at New & Lingwood]

Birkenstock 1774 'Arizona French Piping Sandal' in Cognac, $550 [available at Birkenstock]

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Follow Aly & AJ Style on Instagram!

[muchomacho]

If you are not subscribed to WM Brown magazine, you need to be. Great fashion, even better articles on fashion and culture. It’s a bit pricey, but you are worth it.

[themidnightcrimson]

good morning ࿏ wm

summary: in which you decide to get what you want first thing in the morning.

words: 3.9k

warnings: top!wanda, power bottom!reader, dubcon/noncon, breeding kink, cumstrap (r receiving), somno (r giving), blowjob on cumstrap (r giving), enhanced strap, brief choking, just imagining slutting top!wanda out like this woeidbsibfwioe its the power bottom in me

this fic is for 18+ only. minors dni. read with discretion.

masterlist.

The room was cool and the bed warm by the time you woke up. Legs shifting smoothly under the crisp sheets, you could hear the faint chirp of a lone bird outside the window along with what sounded like a gentle spring morning rain shower.

Plat plat plat plat the rain softly tapped against the window and quietly onto the roof above you. It was a sleepy rain, an early morning rain whose clouds blocked the sun from glaring through your window. It made waking a little easier, a little more soft.

The other thing that made waking a peaceful experience was the warm body you were tangled up with. The soft, curled ends of light brown hair tickled your bare shoulder, and it was the first thing you saw in the dim room as you opened your eyes. Your head rose and fell slowly with Wanda’s steady breath. It was resting on her bare chest, the skin there hot against your ear. She always slept so hot.

Your legs were tangled with hers, your arm thrown across her torso. As you blinked your eyes awake, you tilted your head upwards to get an angle of her from below. The stretch of her jawbone, the mountain of her cheekbones just beyond it. Heavy eyelashes fluttered closed, deep pink lips pursed in her sleep. The crinkle between her eyebrows that was always there when she slept. She was starting to get a permanent wrinkle from it, and while she was embarrassed of it, you told her it was just the imprint of all the dreams she’d ever had right there in one wrinkle between her brows so she would never forget them. Wanda was always a deep dreamer, for better or worse.

The puffy comforter you shared rested right below her breasts, likely pushed down during her overheated sleep. Her hair was splayed over her chest, barely covering the peaks of her soft pink nipples. Her skin looked pale and soft under the dim gloomy morning light. You let your hand glide over the soft expanse of her tummy, fingers pressing into her flesh as you shift, waking up a little more. Letting out a silent yawn, you casually let your hand stroll further down beneath the blanket, being thrown off guard a little when your hand touches cool silicone between her legs.

It was Wanda’s new creation still left strapped around her hips via harness from last night’s endeavors. It took a lot of research and magical effort for Wanda to create her enchanted strap that functions like a biological part of her body. Using her magic, she enchanted the strap so that she can feel through it and cum through it. Let’s just say the first few tries once she perfected it could be described as very quick, hot, and wet on her end. It was the most mind-blowing feeling she had ever felt, being able to feel you inside. Even now, a few weeks later, she still warns you how sensitive it still is, which you could tell from the beginning because of how fast she came with you.

Wanda’s magic was very powerful—spontaneous creation. For that reason, she insisted on wearing a condom the first several times using the enchanted strap out of fear of accidental pregnancy, though you knew she secretly had a breeding kink. Finally, she stopped using condoms, but she still pulled out of you every time. It was hot, seeing her get so close to just doing it, to just letting go and planting her cum deep inside you. You could see it on her face every time. But every time, milliseconds before release, she pulls out and chooses to spill all over your tummy or back instead. Of course, that was also hot in its own right. But you desperately wanted her to cum inside. You weren’t sure if it was the risk or the ownership aspect of it, but you fucking needed it.

And you knew she wanted it too. She had a tendency to hold you down when she’s about to cum, almost as if she is about to force you to take her cum, which you willingly would take every single drop. You even told her in a heated moment of passion to cum inside you once, and she almost did accidentally. Hearing you say that made her orgasm immediately, and she had to frantically pull out right as she spurted all over your mound, making sounds you’d never heard her make.

And now, in the dim morning light with cozy rain coming from outside, and Wanda’s soft, warm sleeping body with her cock in your hand as you thought over all these times with the new magical piece, you wanted it.

But she was so pretty and peaceful in her sleep with her crinkled brow of dreams and her slowly rising and falling chest. You wouldn’t wake her.

Licking your lips, you shifted your body so that you hovered over her, taking great care in slinking down her body without moving the blankets or the bed too much. With the hem of the blanket resting at the back of your neck, you rested your elbows over her plush thighs, eyeing the strap that now sat right in front of your face.

Humming, you trail your fingers to the harness straps, fiddling with the fabric on her hips for a moment before you carefully let them trail to the base of her cock, taking it in your fist gently. Glancing back up to her, you saw the same image—her head resting on the pillow, turned to the side, sleeping peacefully like an angel. The warmth between your legs grew as you formulated the plan of your desires, licking your lips and coming closer to her strap.

You placed Wanda’s length in your mouth. It surprised you every time how big she was—an advantage she smugly gave herself when crafting her piece. Suctioning your lips, you began to swirl your tongue around the tip of the strap with a gentle but purposeful pressure.

It didn’t take long before your mouth ignited the spell within the strap, and her magic peered through the silicone in cracks that looked like molten lava in a crimson hue. That’s how you knew she was aroused now, and as you looked up at her again, she was still sleeping as peacefully as ever.

It took some practice for you to understand how to give your girlfriend a blowjob since it was your first time, but Wanda was patient and could get off with basically any touch you gave her with how sensitive the strap felt when she wore it anyways.

So you lowered your mouth further down on her strap that was warming up between your lips, keeping your hand on the base to keep it steady. Letting your other hand gently squeeze her thigh, you sucked her gently, wanting to make her feel good but not wanting to wake her up. It startled you when, as you took her entirety in your mouth so that the tip of her cock poked the back of your throat, Wanda’s legs twitched under you. It was only once and, looking up as you deepthroated her, you saw that the sleeping look on her face remained unchanged.

The depth with which you took her in your throat prompted tears to form in your eyes and saliva in your mouth. Sniffling, you kept taking her all the way in and then suctioning as you lifted your mouth from her, letting your tongue flick around her tip before deepthroating her again. You were slow and gentle, but she was hot and throbbing with magical arousal. You could even smell it on her now and, reaching down under the base where her slit was, you found that she was wet there, too.

Getting excited, you bobbed your head perhaps a little too hard, and she twitched again, this time letting her head sway to the other side. You paused, waiting for any sign of further movement or signs of being awake, but she was still deep asleep, the crease in her brow deeper now. You went back to sucking her off dutifully, and as wet sounds filled the air, Wanda moved again, this time arching her back. The movement sent her hips bucking up, which shoved her cock into your throat unexpectedly, causing you to choke on her girth.

Recovering, you continued carefully and watched as she twitched and squirmed in her sleep, somehow still staying deep asleep even as you could feel her throb faster. Her lips fell open at one point, soft gasps of air filling the quiet, dim room along with your wet sucking sounds. Her body heated up even more under your hands, and she started to buck her hips more.

Picking up your speed, you deepthroated her more and more, choking yourself on her strap while she grew even more restless. You knew she was seconds away from cumming, so you grabbed the base of her strap and sucked harder and faster. Finally, with a whispery, sleepy moan, and a more violent twitch of her hips, Wanda came in your mouth. You kept your mouth around her, feeling her warm cum gush at the back of your throat and ooze down it. You waited, letting her twitch and gasp and push out every last drop of cum before you finally swallowed it and took her out of your mouth. She was sweet to the taste with just a hint of metal, an interesting mix of her magic that reminded you of the taste of her real arousal.

There were many benefits to this magical creation of Wanda’s, one of many being that there was an unlimited supply.

Her cock now wet and shiny and slightly glowing, you carefully crawled back up her body and straddled her. She had almost immediately fallen back into utter stillness as soon as she came, except for her chest that was rising and falling much faster now. Biting your lip, you reached down and took her breasts into your hands, squeezing and letting your thumb roll over her nipples that were already rock hard for you. You could feel her cock, resting below your thigh, twitch and throb, basically vibrating with magic. All you could taste was her cum that coated the inside of your mouth, the taste still soaked into your tongue.

She just looked so pretty, even more relaxed now, having just helplessly cum in your mouth without even knowing it. Leaning down, you pressed a chaste kiss to her still lips before moving your mouth to her neck and pressing soft, wet kisses there. You let your hand grope her breasts for a moment before sliding it down and rubbing her tummy, lowering it further and further until you reached below yourself and took her strap in your hand again.

Still kissing her neck, and feeling her twitch once below you, you adjusted yourself over her cock and rubbed your throbbing, wet slit down her length, not letting it go inside. You remember the first time you did that, before she ever went inside you with the new strap, and she had prematurely came. She had been so embarrassed, taking off the cum-filled condom and tearing the strap off of her and getting up, but you’d found it so hot. You loved having this control over her. You loved knowing that you held this power over her, that you could make her cum so easily, that she desired you so much that she found it hard to even have any control. You wanted to tease her constantly, to degrade her and embarrass her by using her desire for you against her.

Wanda’s sleepy breaths hitched as you rubbed your warm, wet folds up and down her length, leaving a wet, sticky trail on the strap. She shifted under you, turning her head back to the other side. Her eyebrows creased deeper, her face contorting into a look of neediness as she subconsciously bucked her hips, pushing herself harder onto you. Chuckling, you gave her one last kiss on her neck before sitting up fully, unable to control yourself anymore. You wanted to get what you truly wanted out of her before she woke up.

Your breathing growing heavier, along with the rain pattering much harder on the window outside, you lined Wanda’s cock up with your entrance, letting it sit there pressed against it for a moment. You took a deep breath—her size still surprised you, and you still needed to relax and prepare yourself before taking her in. Thanks to the blowjob and how wet you were, there was enough lubrication for you to lower yourself down on her cock, feeling her slide right in and stretch your walls around her.

“Fuck,” you whispered as you stopped halfway, feeling a tinge of pain. Wanda shifted beneath you, which didn’t help, so you just took another deep breath and basically slammed yourself down on her, Wanda’s entire cock ramming deep inside you.

As if on cue, right as you let out a louder shriek than you meant to because of the way her cock hit your cervix, Wanda also let out a sleepy form of a moan, her head swaying to the side as her legs shifted under the blankets below you.

Placing your hands on her shoulders, you stayed still and felt her throb inside you as she squirmed, watching her eyes scroll side to side behind her eyelids. Biting your lip, you slowly lifted yourself off halfway before coming back down again, nearly seeing stars when she hit your deepest point again.

It was obvious that doing this wasn’t going to keep her asleep for much longer. She was still moving, eyelids fluttering, lips twitching as if trying to speak between her growing breaths. She was breathing faster now, redness blooming on her cheeks.

There was no point in being careful now. Grinding your teeth together, you rolled your hips, throwing your head back as she hit your sweet spot in your lower tummy. She was so big that her cock was basically all you could feel as you rode her, feeling pure pleasure bloom inside you as you anticipated the ending you were dreaming about.

“Mmmm-nnnn” Wanda murmured as she squirmed more beneath you, kicking at the sheets covering her feet and arching her back. “Ahhh…” She was starting to come to, being lured by your actions into an in-between state between sleeping and waking. She was arching her back off the bed and bucking her hips up into you, natural instinct to have more friction and be as close to you as possible coming through.

Power filled you as you stared down at the helpless witch, her cock lodged deep inside you, throbbing as you bounced on it. You bit the tip of your tongue and squeezed her shoulders, digging your nails into her skin as you rode her cock.

The feeling of your nails in Wanda’s skin was the one thing that brought her into awareness. Her eyelashes fluttered, mouth dropping open. Finally, her eyes opened fully, exposing those pretty irises that were usually green but were now a deep, sleepy crimson red from the magic she was subconsciously using.

A grin slashed across your own face, your tummy filled with excitement as you watched the look of confusion on Wanda’s once peaceful face. This was the second moment you were anticipating the most. Her eyebrows contorted in confusion as she stared up at you, her eyes blank with dumb sleepiness at first as her mouth let out heavy breaths. Then she blinked a few times, her eyes falling down over your body and to her own. She saw her cock, glistening with wet, appear halfway with every other bounce you made. She watched it appear as you lifted up, and then disappear again as you slapped yourself down on her lap.

Then she felt it. The tight, wet warmth. The squeezing of your walls around her. The more textured parts around your cervix, how much warmer and tighter you felt the deeper she was. Your lips smushed against the base of her cock when you had her fully inside. The ridges of your cunt massaging her length as you jerked up and down on her, the friction feeling like a white hot flame of pleasure with each stroke.

Her mouth fell open wider with a loud, startled moan, her hands immediately slapping onto your hips and holding them. “Baby!” she exclaimed in surprise, trying to blink the bleariness out of her eyes as you continued fucking yourself on her.

You giggled at her reaction, how she was confused but so turned on and so obviously overwhelmed by the feeling of you milking her cock as soon as she woke up, this being the very first thing her consciousness experienced this rainy morning. You felt her cock swell a little inside you, now that she was awake with her magic.

Her breathing turned into gasps, her eyes squeezing shut as she hissed through her teeth, her hips trembling as you slammed down onto them. “Fuck, baby, fuck, fuck,” she croaked, her voice sleepy and husky and burning hot in your ear.

“I always wanted to wake you up like this,” you whispered, scratching down her chest and over her nipples, causing her to let out the cutest little high-pitched whimper.

“Fuck,” was all she could whisper, holding your hips as they bounced up and down on her length.

You could see the sweat breaking on her forehead, the flush in her cheeks, the way her tummy tightened under your palm. She was getting close.

“D-Did you use prot-protection?” Wanda stammered, her brown hair starting to stick to her temples. She knew the answer. She could feel it, but she needed to ask anyway.

Chuckling, you let out a pornographic moan just to make her shudder and then said, “Nope.”

Wanda’s eyes widened a little in panic. She could already feel herself leaking a little, or maybe it was just your wetness, which was also dripping down her shaft and onto her thighs. Through the slight panic in your eye you could see the desperation, the idea she always dreams about sitting right there in her brain.

You purposefully clenched, and she bit her lip and threw her head back, her body lifting off the bed as she pushed herself into you. You gasped at the depth but used your strength to pin her hips back down to the bed.

“Baby,” she breathed, her eyes barely open. “Baby, get up.” Her voice grew breathy with quickness. “I’m gonna cum. Get up.” She slapped your hip a few times to make you get up, but you kept riding her.

“No,” you purred, leaning down closer to her face and smirking. “You can easily push me off if you want to.” You watched her, struggling to keep her eyes open, her body moving with your bouncing, look up at you with such a strong mix of horror and desire on her face. You waited, but she only continued to struggle beneath you, not making any effort to use her magic or strength to push you off. “So why don’t you?”

Wanda whined, throwing her head back and closing her eyes as if just looking at you was going to make her bust. Her nails dug into your hips as she trembled, looking like the pleasure was turning into pain as you continued to ride her. There was no way she would actively deny you. She could stop herself all she wanted when it was her in control, but if you were going to take it from her, she couldn’t not acquiesce.

“Baby, please,” she murmured through gritted teeth, tears forming in the corners of her eyes from the struggle to keep herself from cumming. You knew she could stop it if she wanted to—you didn’t have her physically wrangled, and even if you did, her magic could put an end to it immediately. “Please, get up, I can’t hold it.”

Grinning, you slam your hand over her throat, and she gasps, choking slightly as you squeeze her throat. “You’re so cute like this,” you whisper, “Begging me to stop. You’re the one who can’t control yourself.”

Tears were falling down her cheeks now. “Please, please,” she begged, her eyes squeezed shut. “Please, baby, I can’t—I can’t hold it—I’m gonna cum, fuck, please…”

“Do it. Give me all your cum,” you hiss, riding her harder to the point where the bedframe slams against the wall. Wanda, choking on the pressure of your hand around her throat, trembled and violently twitched below and inside you as she tried her hardest to hold it. But she was hot to the touch, and so were you, and your cunt felt so good squeezing around her cock, and you were taking complete advantage of her which she found to be so hot, and she hadn’t been able to stop dreaming about breeding you for weeks now, and it was all too much for her to even stop it.

“Fuck, baby, fuck, get off, I’m gonna… fuck, fuck fuck!”

Wanda’s nails dug into your hips as her words turned into incoherent babbles, her mouth falling wide open and her body lifting completely off the bed as she finally lost all control. You tried to watch her as long as you could, but your eyes fluttered closed when finally you felt her cock give one last hard twitch before loads of her burning hot cum went gushing deep inside you, splashing the wall of your cervix and filling your tummy all up.

The feeling made you cum, shivering on top of her and squeezing around her which only prolonged her orgasm even more. Wanda saw flashing images of you pregnant, which had been fueling what she thought was fear for weeks now, but she was learning just now that that fear was pure fetish. She tugged your hips down onto her and pushed herself as deep inside you as possible as she loaded you with her cum, surprising you with her strength as she kept you in a complete hold.

After a few moments, when she had filled you with all she had to give, which was a shocking amount this time because of how long she had held it, and you were limp against her chest, recovering from your own orgasm, Wanda finally relaxed, letting go of your hips and closing her eyes.

“Fuck,” she breathed, panting as sweat rolled down her tear-streaked face. You were quiet for a minute, relishing the feeling of a full tummy of Wanda’s cum, her cock throbbing gently in your cunt. You were so glad she’d enchanted that strap.

Finally, you hummed, looking up at her. She looked dazed and fuzzy-minded, her eyes hooded and cheeks blushing red from embarrassment. She sighed and grinned sheepishly, placing her hands over her face. You smirked. “That was a lot better than cumming on my tits, right?”

Wanda breathed. “Well, good morning to you, too.”

[antoninko]

💿The Afterglow Hair System Starter Hair Dump💿

This has been brewing up since July but I'm very happy to say I'm finally done with this! The Afterglow Hair System is basically Sunshine and Zeb blended 50/50 because I wanted something softer than sunshine that still has depth. The natural colours are Poppet V2 Black, Skittles Hair System Brown, Io honey, a ginger I made and Pooklet Mail Bomb; The unnatural colours are Pooklet TNT, FurbyQ Afterglow, a green I made, Wyxii Mint, Pooklet Shock Wave, Poppet Lavender, Skittles Hair System Wild Berry and Pooklet Powder Cake; Swatches, more info and download under the cut!

In the hair dump you'll find 272 hairs in total, 144 being for female sims and 128 being for male sims. Here's a list of all hairs included in this hair dump! This hair dump also features 6 hairs converted and retextured in Afterglow by @nonsensical-pixels :)

For the preview photo I really wanted to recreate the vibe of TS2 PS2's box art (ty @roxanna-moxie for the suggestion!!)

Download HERE!

Credits: AHarris00Britney, Ade, AladdinTheSimmer, AmidalaSims, Analog-Mothman, Anto, AppleWaterSugar, ArethaBee, Ayoshi, BrandiNotBroke, Bunhead, BustedPixel, ButterflySims, CEEP, Cazy, Cowconuts, DavinaOjeda, DayLifeSims, DeeDee-Sims, DigitalAngels, EA/Maxis, EbonixSims, Eir, Entropy-Sims, EvannaMari, FeralPoodles, FurbyQ, Glumbut, GoAmazons, Grecadea, GreenLlamas, HazelPuff, Io, JellyMeduza, JellyMoo, Josheoh, JulieJ, Kayleigh, KestrelTeens, Khadijah551, Leahlillith, LilRoisin, Luutzi, Marja, MarsoSims, MartiniMYB, Memento, MicroScotch, Minicule, MissGloomySims, NervousXSubject, Newsea, Nightcrawler, Nonsensical-Pixels, Okruee, Oranos, Osab, Peggy, Peppermint-Ginger, PineappleForest, PlatinumAspiration, Plunni, PolygonBeach, Pooklet, Poppet, Puccamichi, QICC, QwertySims, Raon, RascalCurious, RedSimmer-Blog, Rented-Space, Roxanna-Moxie, S-Club, Sashima, SheaButtyr, ShiftingParadymes, ShySimblr, SilverLeaves, SimBorg, SimCelebrity00, Simmerstesia, SimsTrouble, SkittlesSims, SkySims, SleepingSims, SocialBunny, Stealthic, Stephanine, TSLD, Time-P1ays, Trapping, TsminhSims, Umi, Valonnia, VictoriaSims, WMS, Wings, WonderCarlotta, Wyxii, XDLSims, XWhitePolar;

[wildemaven]

common thread | frankie morales

wm masterlist / frankie masterlist

-> pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

-> words: 2060

-> content warning: 18+ blog; smut smut smut, there might be a plot- there might not be, benny’s fighting, alluding somewhat to anxiety but no real mention of it, established relationship, unprotected p in v (not mentioned but reader is on BC, otherwise wrap it folks), mentions of bodily fluids, mentions of drinking, reader wears Frankie’s shirt but no other descriptive features of reader, nipple play, labeling dubcon just to be safe, consent not mentioned but implied within their established relationship, implied somnophilia but very vague, kissing, shared orgasms, I think that’s everything- please don’t hesitate to let me know if I missed anything.

-> notes: was this born purely from the fact that I own said shirt and that I might have had thots of stealing it from frankie… yep! Big thanks to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for listening to my thots and helping me make sure some things worked together. And for enlightening me on the word spooge. Anywho, I don’t even know what this is really— hopefully you enjoy it.

You're lost in the moment. Grateful for the way your mind is able to lend such vivid imagery. Manifested  bursts of him against the darkness, intermittent flashes of Frankie dancing across your eyelids.

His unrestrained smile you so frequently witness, teeth and dimple bared with an exuberant ease. His eyes, packed with millions of different shades of brown and gold into the smallest little pools of warmth, express everything he needs to say without uttering a single phrase. His voice wraps around you with a smokiness, a tonality that seeps deep into your bones, metastasizing himself in every bit of you. But it’s nothing compared to the real thing. 

*

A memory from earlier in the evening trickles in. Frankie’s shoulders relaxed, his laugh unobstructed by lingering weighted thoughts. Completely surrounded by the sweeping lights and obnoxious yelling that’s accompanied by one of Benny’s fight nights. 

His hand rests comfortably between where your legs cross, tucked in and with zero desire to move unless necessary. His body slumped back in the metal folding chair that sits next to the one you’re occupying, Santi in one flanking the other side of him. Even while deep in a conversation with Santi, he still manages to oscillate his attention between his best friend and you, never once making you feel unnoticed by him. 

Once Benny takes the ring, Frankie’s reserved demeanor shifts into sobered excitement. His fists clenched and slightly jabbing the air out of pure ritualistic habit, mirroring every punch delivered to the bloodied opponent sparring against Benny. 

Frankie hangs back after the final call is made and Benny’s arm is thrown upward in victory. Late nights at the gym with the blonde fighter had paid off. He’d googled rigorous drills to run Benny through nightly for a month straight to prepare- jab, cross, jab to the body -Playfully showed you his own wonky technique in the middle of the kitchen while you stirred garlic into the simmering marinara sauce you had started when he called to let you know he was heading home one evening. 

Benny’s bruised body dangles over the metal cage, a triumphant wail rips from his throat as Will and Santi grab at him, engrossed in their own fight to congratulate Benny while fending off other spectators and screaming women. 

Frankie pays no mind to the celebratory explosion shared between his buddies. A squeal of surprise comes from somewhere within you melds with a growled C’mere as Frankie’s arms pull you closer to him. His arms forming a net around you, stronger than any fisherman had ever thrown out to sea, sheltering you from the dispersing crowd. You grab onto his tan canvas jacket, the material rough and gritty, but it withstands the stress of your grip grounding you to him as your breath is stolen from your lungs. Frankie’s lips fuse to yours, pursuing a more secluded adaptation of celebrating. His mouth still tastes of the tapped beer he’d been sipping on throughout the fight, the hoppy bitterness coated on his tongue is no rival for the sweetness that is Frankie. The kiss coming to an unhurried close, soft lingering pecks breathe into him thanking you for supporting him, supporting Benny. I love you’s and Let's head home lead to rushed goodbyes and rain checks for drinks later in the week— no time wasted milling about with only you on his mind. 

*

Your lashes flutter in an unrushed manner, kissing the tops of your cheeks with each crisp fatigued breath you take in. Brief glimpses of his brawny silhouette move just outside of your closed off vision, melding with the soft light that pours in from the hallway. 

His whiskeyed tone cuts through the hazed filled air, pulling you back into this real time pleasure seeking dimension. 

“Baby— fuck! Fuck, Babe you feel so goddamn good!” Hot and humid syllables fanning across your neck, mixing and reformulating  with the brininess of your skin. 

He shows you he means it with each intentional move he makes. Every bit of him in motion, diligent and relentless. 

The weight of Frankie settled snugly between your legs. His hips flexing against your inner thighs with each calculated thrust, exerting a carnal like rhythmed pace.  

He’s intoxicating, a divine ambrosial tonic. The fiery elixir is so addictive and sweet, you slowly sip your allotted daily servings. Always selfishly craving more of him. Everywhere. At once. 

There’s an eagerness that drips from his saccharine tongue, intent on pleasing you sufficiently. His words drumming against the hollow channels of your ears. Begging. Coaxing. Praising. 

“That’s it, Babe— c-can you give me one more? I need you to come with me!” His lips brush over yours. All full and red from how you like to draw them in your mouth, ardently sucking and rolling them between your teeth. Your tongue soothing over the fleshy skin, offering a tempered smile at the way he grieves the sensation. “I know you can, Hermosa, you’re almost there. Fuck, baby! Love watching you fall apart— one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever experienced in my life.”

Frankie’s never showy or boastful. It’s not even luck that he relies on. It’s endless learning and knowing exactly what makes you tick. His own desires secondary to yours. The steady drag of his cock is  sturdy enough, your velvety walls claiming him as their own for the time being. 

Something pricks at you. Somewhere below the surface. A euphoric flame alit. Ignited by Frankie’s earnestness. Burning slowly through your cresting body. 

It’s a mirroring of pleasured expressions. Brows contorted. Mouths softened, hanging open. Lips grazing the other’s briefly. Noses bumping and nudging. A synchronous exchange of explosive breathy moans, reverberating through your chest. 

“Mírame. Let me see you— all of you.” 

Your vision is fuzzy. Slowly adjusting to the scene before you. There he is, your Frankie. More beautiful and handsome than you remember. His skin flushed with a twinge pink. His own eyes are heavy with an emphatic desire. A single clump of sweat drenched hair curls to a point, swaying against his forehead. His jawline sharp and nearly unhinged as he stares down at you— a man with a need to satiate and protect you.  

“Francisco—“ A breathless plea. His namesake called out to him. The sweetest sounding voice he could ever hear, mesmerized by the way it dances off your tongue. 

“Yeah! You look so fuckin’ good like this, Hermosa. Wearin’ my lucky shirt and lookin’ so goddamn sexy in it, too. Love it when you wear my shit.” 

*

His shirt. Or so he thinks. Technically it did start out that way, being his shirt and all. It came about as the result of a beer mishap a few years ago. A rowdy group knocking into his frosted cup, ice cold beer sloshing over the brim, soaking his shirt completely. 

With only minutes until Benny’s match, it was a mad dash to a closing thrift shop across the street. Nearly turning their closed sign on him, Frankie flashed his pearly whites, pleading with the sweet woman for just a shirt to replace his beer soaked one. 

The announcer's voice echoes into the night sky, signaling the next match was starting soon. Frankie grabbed a single hanger from the rack. No time to inspect or deliberate on the last minute purchase, tossing more than enough cash on the shop counter and bidding the shop owner a thanks ma’am, goodnight. Frankie frantically ripped the soured shirt from him, tossing it in the trash can outside the event doors. Pulling on the new-to-him threadbare t-shirt and slapping his worn hat back on his head as he went in search of you. 

The irony of the situation was not lost on him. A soaked in beer shirt replaced by a beer branded one. No mistaking the faded Budweiser logo printed across the back. A smaller, less in your face, but still obvious enough, strategically positioned on the front. He wouldn’t have hated it initially if he actually liked the stuff, preferring Stella Artois that got him into this situation. 

Benny won his fight that night. Was it all his hard work paying off? Surely. Or was it a newly acquired beer shirt bringing him some extra luck? Frankie thinks a bit of both. From then on that shirt was worn every fight night, whether Frankie was in attendance or not, Benny winning his first title at the end of the season. 

Frankie was wearing the shirt tonight, too. Until he wasn’t. Picking up where he had left off as soon as the front door clicked closed, now alone, with zero onlookers and strobing lights. The dim lit hallway was as far as you both made it before he had you pressed against the wall. Your hands scrambling to remove every stitch of clothing from him. Needing more of him, more skin to touch. His shirt thrown onto the pile of your already removed clothes. 

It wasn’t long before Frankie was unwrapping your legs from his waist, your back slowly sliding down the wall until your feet hit solid ground. An agreement made to order from your favorite restaurant as you both slipped on an article of clothing from the heap of clothes— Frankie grabbing his black boxers and you swiping his lucky shirt. 

Your shirt. For now, your shirt. Parading around the house in only the vintage loose knit beer branded shirt. The neck and sleeves tattered and frayed. All these years you and Frankie had possessed it, only added to its distressed appearance. Frankie’s musky pheromones now the only thing this beloved shirt is ever saturated in. 

It’s how he finds you hours later. After you had called it a night, eyes were too tired and body beyond exhausted to focus on the movie he picked out. The t-shirt being the only thing veiled over your sleeping form. Its thin worn material leaves little to Frankie’s ardent imagination. The hem hardly draped over your bare hips. 

Frankie watches you shift in your sleep, the shirt sitting higher now, exposing more of you to him. His cock twitches. A steady drip of his spend slips from your soaked cunt. He’s transfixed by the sight of it. Palming himself through his boxers, not even fazed by how hard he is already. He suppresses the urge to wake you, savoring how serene you look all splayed out on the bed. 

“Fuck—“ He sucks in a sharp breath. 

*

A choked sob is the only response you can give him. Your brain far too flustered to conjure up any sort of coherent argument about the shirt belonging to you at this moment. 

The well loved garment now cropped over your chest, all bunched and twisted. The logo, now broken lines of illegible letters, lost in the rolls of fabric. Frankie had slowly peeled it higher for his own viewing pleasure. Losing himself in the soft bounce of your breast, brought on by the way he rolled his hips at a languid pace. 

It begins to emerge. A coiling tension forming, building, tightening with every tempoed thrust Frankie delivers. Massaging that sacred spot, triggering your inner walls to grip him with an immense force. 

He senses it instantly. The telltale signs of the cresting moment.  An inferno of heated arousal  burns through his lower abdomen. 

“Fr-Frankie! I’m close— oh god!” 

Surrendering. Dissolving into a puddle of pleasure. Back rigid, arching off the bed. Your nipples damp and taut, as Frankie’s tongue traces around the hardened peeks. Breath hitching as your orgasm splinters through you. White noise cutting into the air. 

“I can feel you, baby— fuckfuckfuck!” 

Time slows. Your name on his lips. A single word he recites delicately, an intimate poem for only you. His release is a welcomed warmth as it coats your pulsing cunt, filling you for the second time tonight. 

Your finger trails down his back. Gliding through the pool of sweat that’s gathered at the base of his spine. Dame un beso, Francisco. A lazy slow press of his lips, your mouth naturally parting to him— an unhurried kiss, your tongue reacquainting with his. 

Collapsing into the bed, Frankie pulls you into his depleted body. Too tired to care about anything but sleep. His hand finds its way under his shirt that you’re still wearing, resting where your heart beats for him forevermore. 

[strxwbwerry]

a brown non-pro carrd?<33

Brown Non-pro carrd !! free to use without cred/wm + non-pro

To use this template, join https://discord.gg/FQSDZ3Q9ZQ where I frequently post my f2u carrds. The carrd templates are in "examples" and if you're interested in a custom-made one, check out my plans! More benefits in the server : - Decor access - Promote your work/look for work! - Commission me/partner with our server - Learn about my current status - I have lots of proof of commissions - Find like-minded people in chat! - Customise your profile with roles - An aesthetically pleasing minimalistic srvr I'm especially active so feel free to ask me questions in chat/dm/tickets <3

[pwlanier]

RALPH H. SEGAL, BODYSCOPE (1948)

20 x 16 x 1/4 inches

Theo I. Segal, associate editor

illustations by WM. Brown McNett

published by Bodyscope Inc. New York, NY

Capsule Auctions

[booskwan]

targeted boycotts are as we know the most efficient and this isn’t me calling for a boycott, but to keep people informed below the cut are lists of kpop artists with affiliations to labels mentioned on zionistsinmusic on twitter

UMG (under an american umbrella label it owns or has joint shares in highup ent [kor releases only], yg ent [bp kor releases only], the black label [somi and taeyang's kor releases only]; under capitol music group it owns or has joint shares in sm ent; under republic it owns or has joing shares in big hit [txt kor releases only], jype [twice, skz, and itzy's kor releases only], under universal music japan it has u-cube a "joint venture with" cube ent, virgin music > republic records > used as an imprint for txt jp releases; through third party distribution umg is affiliated with yuehua ent) - 4minute, apink, ateez, beast, bigbang, blackpink, boys republic (actually managed by umg), btob, bts, dean, everglow, snsd, infinite, iu, iz*one, kep1er, lim youngwoong, loona (japan), miss a (since 2012), monsta x, nct 127, p1harmony, psy (since 2012), rainbow, stray kids, shinee, somi, stayc, super junior, t-ara, the rose, triples, tri.be, twice, txt, wonder girls, xikers, and zerobaseone

note: a lot of these have (south korea) next to the name, i don’t know if that means they only have a deal for that country because other artists like stray kids and lim youngwoong don’t have that specification

REPUBLIC (owned by umg) - itzy, nayeon, nmixx, stray kids, txt, tri.be, twice, vcha

SONY (owns columbia, wakeone, dreamcatcher company; distributes modhaus, chrome ent, kq ent, starship, top media, wakeone, wm ent) - riize, ive, ateez, bts, brown eyed girls, wjsn, crayon pop, dreamcatcher, everglow, exid, monsta x's i.m (astrisked, can't find why), kep1er, lim youngwoong, stayc, tfn/t1419, the rose, triples, wings, xikers, zerobaseone

COLUMBIA (owned by sony) - ateez, ive (usa), kep1er, p1harmony, stayc, triples, treasure (usa), xikers, zerobaseone

VIRGIN (owned by umg) - nct 127, shinee (japan)

WARNER (through warner records it owns or has shares in sm [aespa kor releases only]; included in their international labels is warner music korea which is an international copyright holder and distributor for brand new music [younite, ab6ix, as one, eluphant, miss s] and keystone ent [blank2y]) - aespa (outside of sk), b1a4, bigbang, cherry bullet, choi junhee/choi seoah/juniel (taiwan and japan), cn blue, day6, ft island, got7, iu, jyj, kep1er, loossemble, loona, p1harmony, sf9, twice

ATLANTIC (owned by warner) - got7, iu, kep1er, loossemble, p1harmony, sf9

as always if any of this information is incorrect or outdated, please feel free to correct me in a reblog or an ask and i'll update the information in this post. i'll try to keep up with any new companies that are brought up on the twitter account mentioned at the beginning of this post. i'm not here to call for a boycott of every artist mentioned here because i don't feel i am in the position to do so, but i'm not discouraging you from choosing to do so. in fact i encourage you to listen to these artists unofficially at the very least.

i'm not sure the extent to which these companies get revenue from these artists, i don't know if it's just streams or if other things like merch sales and youtube views contribute but quite a few of these artists' companies are being boycotted currently or in the near future anyway, so i would suggest you not buy any merch or watch youtube videos officially from them. this post has more info on downloading music, youtube videos (with subtitles), and the boycotts i mentioned so i hope you all will check that out too. tris @bandzboy has also been posting about and sharing twitter posts about zionism in music, especially in the kpop industry so i suggest you check out her blog as well

[todaysdocument]

Discharge Petition for H.R. 7152, the Civil Rights Act of 1964

Record Group 233: Records of the U.S. House of RepresentativesSeries: General Records

This item, H.R. 7152, the Civil Rights Act of 1964, faced strong opposition in the House Rules Committee. Howard Smith, Chairman of the committee, refused to schedule hearings for the bill. Emanuel Celler, Chairman of the Judiciary Committee, attempted to use this discharge petition to move the bill out of committee without holding hearings. The petition failed to gain the required majority of Congress (218 signatures), but forced Chairman Smith to schedule hearings.

88th CONGRESS. House of Representatives No. 5 Motion to Discharge a Committee from the Consideration of a RESOLUTION (State whether bill, joint resolution, or resolution) December 9, 1963 To the Clerk of the House of Representatives: Pursuant to Clause 4 of Rule XXVII (see rule on page 7), I EMANUEL CELLER (Name of Member), move to discharge to the Commitee on RULES (Committee) from the consideration of the RESOLUTION; H. Res. 574 entitled, a RESOLUTION PROVIDING FOR THE CONSIDERATION OF THE BILL (H. R. 7152) which was referred to said committee November 27, 1963 in support of which motion the undersigned Members of the House of Representatives affix their signatures, to wit: 1. Emanuel Celler 2. John J. Rooney 3. Seymour Halpern 4. James G Fulton 5. Thomas W Pelly 6. Robt N. C. Nix 7. Jeffery Cohelan 8. W A Barrett 9. William S. Mailiard 10. 11. Augustus F. Hawkins 12. Otis G. Pike 13. Benjamin S Rosenthal 14. Spark M Matsunaga 15. Frank M. Clark 16. William L Dawson 17. Melvin Price 18. John C. Kluczynski 19. Barratt O'Hara 20. George E. Shipley 21. Dan Rostenkowski 22. Ralph J. Rivers[page] 2 23. Everett G. Burkhalter 24. Robert L. Leggett 25. William L St Onge 26. Edward P. Boland 27. Winfield K. Denton 28. David J. Flood 29. 30. Lucian N. Nedzi 31. James Roosevelt 32. Henry C Reuss 33. Charles S. Joelson 34. Samuel N. Friedel 35. George M. Rhodes 36. William F. Ryan 37. Clarence D. Long 38. Charles C. Diggs Jr 39. Morris K. Udall 40. Wm J. Randall 41. 42. Donald M. Fraser 43. Joseph G. Minish 44. Edith Green 45. Neil Staebler 46. 47. Ralph R. Harding 48. Frank M. Karsten 49. 50. John H. Dent 51. John Brademas 52. John E. Moss 53. Jacob H. Gilbert 54. Leonor K. Sullivan 55. John F. Shelley 56. 57. Lionel Van Deerlin 58. Carlton R. Sickles 59. 60. Edward R. Finnegan 61. Julia Butler Hansen 62. Richard Bolling 63. Ken Heckler 64. Herman Toll 65. Ray J Madden 66. J Edward Roush 67. James A. Burke 68. Frank C. Osmers Jr 69. Adam Powell 70. 71. Fred Schwengel 72. Philip J. Philiben 73. Byron G. Rogers 74. John F. Baldwin 75. Joseph Karth 76. 77. Roland V. Libonati 78. John V. Lindsay 79. Stanley R. Tupper 80. Joseph M. McDade 81. Wm Broomfield 82. 83. 84. Robert J Corbett 85. 86. Craig Hosmer87. Robert N. Giaimo 88. Claude Pepper 89. William T Murphy 90. George H. Fallon 91. Hugh L. Carey 92. Robert T. Secrest 93. Harley O. Staggers 94. Thor C. Tollefson 95. Edward J. Patten 96. 97. Al Ullman 98. Bernard F. Grabowski 99. John A. Blatnik 100. 101. Florence P. Dwyer 102. Thomas L. ? 103. 104. Peter W. Rodino 105. Milton W. Glenn 106. Harlan Hagen 107. James A. Byrne 108. John M. Murphy 109. Henry B. Gonzalez 110. Arnold Olson 111. Harold D Donahue 112. Kenneth J. Gray 113. James C. Healey 114. Michael A Feighan 115. Thomas R. O'Neill 116. Alphonzo Bell 117. George M. Wallhauser 118. Richard S. Schweiker 119. 120. Albert Thomas 121. 122. Graham Purcell 123. Homer Thornberry 124. 125. Leo W. O'Brien 126. Thomas E. Morgan 127. Joseph M. Montoya 128. Leonard Farbstein 129. John S. Monagan 130. Brad Morse 131. Neil Smith 132. Harry R. Sheppard 133. Don Edwards 134. James G. O'Hara 135. 136. Fred B. Rooney 137. George E. Brown Jr. 138. 139. Edward R. Roybal 140. Harris. B McDowell jr. 141. Torbert H. McDonall 142. Edward A. Garmatz 143. Richard E. Lankford 144. Richard Fulton 145. Elizabeth Kee 146. James J. Delaney 147. Frank Thompson Jr 148. 149. Lester R. Johnson 150. Charles A. Buckley4 151. Richard T. Hanna 152. James Corman 153. Paul A Fino 154. Harold M. Ryan 155. Martha W. Griffiths 156. Adam E. Konski 157. Chas W. Wilson 158. Michael J. Kewan 160. Alex Brooks 161. Clark W. Thompson 162. John D. Gringell [?] 163. Thomas P. Gill 164. Edna F. Kelly 165. Eugene J. Keogh 166 John. B. Duncan 167. Elmer J. Dolland 168. Joe Caul 169. Arnold Olsen 170. Monte B. Fascell [?] 171. [not deciphered] 172. J. Dulek 173. Joe W. [undeciphered] 174. J. J. Pickle [Numbers 175 through 214 are blank]

[ausetkmt]

https://x.com/AfricanArchives/status/1704567631515160830?s=20

Apart from Henry “Box” Brown, who mailed himself to freedom in a wooden box did you know there was a woman who also did the same?

Lear Green’s story is less well-known.

Green was an enslaved young woman who made one of history’s most daring and innovative escapes in order to marry the man she loved. Green was able to flee her slaveowner, James Noble, in an old wooden sailor’s chest during a long and arduous shipping journey from Baltimore to Philadelphia. Slaveholder and butter dealer Noble had “inherited” Green from his mother-in-law.

Green, born in 1839, was in her teens when she fell in love with a free Black man, William Adams, who asked her to marry him. Green initially refused because she did not want her children to be born into slavery. “How can I perform the duties of wife and mother while burdened by the shackles of slavery?” Green reportedly asked Adams. But Green later changed her mind after Adams and his mother, also a free woman, came up with a plan for her to escape.

Green, who was now determined to escape the oppression of slavery, purchased an old sailor’s chest and placed various items in it, including “a quilt, a pillow, and a few articles of raiment, with a small quantity of food and a bottle of water.”

Her fiance Adams and his mother fastened the chest with heavy rope, with Green cramped inside. Adam’s mother boarded an Ericsson steamboat in Baltimore and brought the chest with her. The chest was secured with rope and stowed with other freight. During the 18-hour journey to Philadelphia, Adams’ mother snuck into the compartment and from time to time lifted the lid of the chest to check in on Green and allow her a breath of fresh air.

After 18 hours in the chest, the ship arrived in Philadelphia. Green would meet with Underground Railroad conductor William Still before making her way further North to marry Adams and move to Canada. As expected, Green’s slaveowner Noble named her a fugitive slave, and a manhunt was launched to bring her back.

Noble reportedly posted an advertisement of her escape, which read as follows: “$150 REWARD. Ran away from the subscriber, on Sunday night, 27th inst., my NEGRO GIRL, Lear Green_about 18 years of age, black complexion, round featured, good looking and ordinary size… I have reason to be confident that she was persuaded by a negro man named Wm Adams…he had heard to say he was going to marry the above girl.”

Green and Adams married and settled in Elmira, New York. But their joy together was short-lived. After three years of marriage, Green suddenly died at the age of 21 for unknown reasons.

[speakspeak]

Timeless Cool: Matt Hnanek & Sid Mashburn

[luna-di-fuoco]

OC INFORMATION: YUKINA KURIMOTO

*art credited to nocnoc_art @ instagram*

Name: Yukina Kurimoto (栗本 雪奈) Birthplace: Ukyo Ward, Kyoto, Japan Nationality: Japanese Birthday: October 24th (Scorpio)

PHYSICAL FEATURES Age: 17 (WMS Arc 1) | 18 (WMS Arc 2) | 18 - 19 (WMS Arc 3) Height: 158cm (start of Arc 1) | 160cm (end of Arc 3) Weight: 47kg Hair Color: Dark Brown / Black Eye Color: Medium Brown

GENERAL INFORMATION Family: Tatsuya Kurimoto (father, deceased), Akane Matsuda (mother, deceased) Unnamed Paternal Grandparents Emiko Matsuda (maternal grandmother) Daisuke Kurimoto (uncle)

Fighting Style: Aikido (Arc 1) | Aikido, Kobudo (Arcs 2 + 3) Weapon: Dual Sai

Personality: Quiet and reserved by nature, she carries a somewhat mysterious aura around her. While being from the Kansai region, she speaks with a formal dialect and has an extremely subtle accent.

Despite her soft demeanor, she's far from a pushover. She'll protect those she loves by putting herself on the line, even in a compromising position. She's also willing to bend the rules on occasion and can be surprisingly stubborn, which is more apparent in close relationships.

While she appears distant at times, it's merely a defense mechanism to keep herself at arm's length. Her innermost desire is to make everlasting bonds, but certain memories make her hesitant; all it would take is for her to meet the right people to set her free.

HISTORY: A high school student living in Kyoto, Yukina trains alongside her uncle to become a full fledged aikidoka.

Originally approached by her friend Izumi to enter the King of Iron Fist Tournament 4, she declined due to a personal hiatus.

One night, she dreams of a young man turning into a monster and plunging the world into darkness. Unsure of where this came from, she wakes up to discover that Heihachi Mishima, the head of the Mishima Zaibatsu, has suddenly passed away.

Over the next few weeks, her dreams slowly repeat in a constant loop. Getting a bad feeling from these visions, she learns that the Mishima Zaibatsu is hosting a new tournament. Hardening her resolve, she enters the competition to prevent this dark future from happening.

While her first round in the competition is a success, her second round is interrupted by visions of two young men fighting against one another. It's there that she sees him: the young man from her dreams morphing into noting short of a demon and nearly decimating his opponent.

Consumed by this vision, she suddenly feels her entire body grow hot. The next thing she knows, she's relocated to an unknown area...but even more startling to her, she dons an entirely new outfit which strongly resembles that of a sailor suit.

Utterly confused as to what's going on, she then comes to face to face with her toughest opponent yet—Jinpachi Mishima, the host of the tournament.

From this moment on, reality shifts into a new paradigm, setting the groundwork for White Moon Saga.

MISC

Yukina's voice claim is Shizuka Itō

Her face, when drawn realistically, is loosely based on Mirei Kiritani

She has a red crowned crane motif in her training gear

The inspiration for her use of dual sai stems from Elektra (Marvel) and Raphael (TMNT), which begins in Arc 2

She presses flowers for a hobby

Her go-to drink is chamomile tea with a splash of milk and honey

[themidnightcrimson]

the scarlet siren ࿏ wm

summary: in which you take a trip out to sea that you will regret.

words: 6.0k

warnings: siren!wanda, dubcon/noncon, fingering (r receiving), oral (r receiving), size kink, biting, a lot of blood, violence, fear, suspense, drowning, deep water, mentions of death, i wrote this in an irish accent for some reason, did you know i have thalassophobia?

this is a dark!fic for 18+ only. minors dni. read with discretion.

masterlist.

Fishing was competitive these days. It was a bad winter and an even worse famine, and with beef and poultry no longer in the shops, the villagers were forced to turn to the shore to fish.

Your little village was nestled on a plateau of land that stuck out into the cold sea. The shore was lined with big, black rocks that had tumbled down from the looming hills over time and landed at the water’s edge with only a thin strip of grainy brown sand between them and the water. Travelling down to the shore over all those rocks was already hard enough, but it was even harder when you had to carry your boat on your back.

People had tried to carve trails through all the rock to make the beaches more accessible, but with all the storms that the area faced, the rocks just got tussled back around and demolished any trails attempted.

In fact, it had just stormed the night before. It pissed rain and spit wind so hard that people woke up to holes in their roofs. Naturally, the beach was all torn up from it, but it would always clean itself up and go back to the way it was at some point before another storm came along. And while most people were at their cottages fixing the storm’s damage, you saw this early dawn as a prime opportunity to fish.

Fish had also been scarce recently because of all the people turning to the water for food sources, but you knew that the previous night’s storm had tussled the waters, which meant the fish were probably scurrying all around. The sun hadn’t even risen yet as you dragged your wooden boat down the rocks in the dim dawn hue, the wood scraping loudly against the rock’s hard and bumpy surface.

Managing to get down the rocks without twisting your ankle, you finally plopped down into the pebbly sand with a huff of breath, pushing your boat off your back. This was only half of your journey, though, because you weren’t even going to fish here on the beach like most people did.

Adjusting the leather strap around your neck that was holding your oars to your back, you dragged your boat through the damp sand to the rickety wooden dock that stood beside the lighthouse. The lighthouse was even more rickety, since no one bothered to upkeep it since this beach was the worst beach for ships to come in at. They almost always hit the rocks because of how deep the water dropped off from the shore and how thin the strip of sand was.

You pulled your boat to the very end of the dock and then threw the oars down in it, and then your bag of fishing gear, along with your pole. Taking a deep breath, you prepared yourself as you began pushing the single person-sized boat into the water. When it finally was fully in the water, you quickly jumped into it, causing a splash and a stressful cracking sound as you struggled for a moment to catch your balance. Finally, you sat down in the boat and let it settle before getting your oars and rowing yourself towards your destination.

There was a little cove area almost like an island to the east of the plateau of land. It was your favorite spot to fish because hardly anyone knew about it. It was barely visible from the shore even during a normal day, but it was completely out of sight on this extremely foggy, dark morning. The fog became more and more dense the further you rowed out into the water, until finally you were completely blinded.

“Fucking hell,” you murmured, reaching into your bag for your compass. The fog had completely surrounded you now to the point where you couldn’t even see the front bow of your boat. It was getting colder further into sea, too. Though the air above was tolerable, you couldn’t imagine how cold the water below felt.

The salty, wet air clogged your nose as you finally felt the cold round of metal in your hand, bringing your compass out of your bag. Sniffling from the cold air, you tried to adjust and read your compass when you suddenly heard something behind you—a voice.

Gasping, you whipped around to look behind you but only saw the thick white of fog. The voice had been shrill and steady, calling out some sort of smooth singsong noise that echoed over the water.

And then you heard it again, clear as day, right in front of you.

Snapping back around, you still could see nothing but the fog, yet the voice was still echoing all around you. It was a single note drawn out, not quite a shout or a scream, just an eerie note drawn out through the fog. Chills overcame you, but not from the cold.

Setting your compass down on the boat’s bottom, you grabbed your oars and began to quickly row towards the east. The fog seemed to be squeezing in on you now, some of it even spilling over the edge of the boat like thick smoke. Your heart was pounding—you couldn’t see where you were going, and you could still hear the voice in the back of your head. You wanted to get to the cove fast.

Suddenly, the wooden oar in your left hand stopped against something. You paused and looked over—you weren’t even able to see the paddle of the oar, only the handle you held. You tried to move the oar, but it wouldn’t budge. What could it be stuck on? Even though you couldn’t see, you knew you weren’t at the cove by now, and you were still heading east so you hadn’t drifted back to the plateau. These waters were so deep, there certainly was nothing your oar could be stuck in.

It was when something tugged your oar right out of your hand that you shrieked and jumped so hard that the boat rocked, icy water splashing onto your legs. With your left oar gone, you quickly used your right oar to haphazardly row forward, having to switch it over to the left side to keep going straight, more of the cold water splattering over you. Though you were crippled now with only one oar, you were so afraid that you rowed even faster than you normally would with two oars.

Though your arms ached, you kept rowing as fast as you could until finally the fog started to thin out. You were starting to break out of whatever thick cloud of sea fog you had been stuck in. It felt like you could breathe again when finally you pushed forward completely out of the fog, letting your tired arms go limp as you looked behind you at the cloud of fog. You searched for the silhouette of another boat but saw nothing. What the hell had grabbed your oar?

Turning back around and taking a deep breath, you swiped your forehead with the back of your wrist—now your body was so hot it was steaming in the cold air. Looking ahead, you could finally see the cove just a little ways away.

Glancing to either side of you, you saw nothing but black water. These waters were always dark, mostly because of the black rock and black mud, but it was completely opaque now. All you could see was reflections of the dim grey sky above you and your own face distorted in the lapping water. You wondered what was below it—something that now had your oar, certainly. Shaking your head to rid yourself of the paranoid thoughts, you rowed on to the cove.

The cove was a U-shaped island that looked like a fragmented piece of the plateau your village was on—all black, rocky shores with limited sand, a cluster of dark, woody trees behind it that shielded it from the nothingness of the sea. The shape of the U was wide enough that the cove water leading up to the center of land was deep enough for fish to live. It was the perfect fishing spot, especially the further one went into the cove so that the island’s rocks and trees surrounded them.

Finally, you got to your favorite spot tucked further into the U shape where you were surrounded by the island, and you rowed your boat carefully until it was finally still. You glanced around the island—it was a little spooky in the foggy, dark morning. The trees were blackened, fog stuck all in them. The big rocks were an even darker black from the wet morning, and where there was usually a strip of sand, there was only a bunch of pebbles and rocks that must have been pushed onto shore from the storm. Sometimes, you would sit on the sand and enjoy the quiet alone, but you couldn’t imagine sitting on all those rocky pebbles.

You set up your fishing pole and cast it into the black water, setting the pole against the side of the boat while you opened your fishnet and made it ready for fish. You had even brought a little breakfast along—a pathetic piece of bread with a slice of cheese. Holding the end of your pole between your feet, you relaxed against the boat and ate your bread and cheese.

It took a minute before you got your first bite, bringing up a thick, silvery fish out of the water and tossing it into your net before recasting your pole. You were able to get three fish before suddenly they just stopped biting.

“For fucks’ sake,” you cursed like a sailor, bringing up your pole out of the water to see that something had taken the worm off the hook, even though you didn’t feel a fish bite. “Greedy fuckers. I’m tryin’ to eat, too.” You took another worm from your bowl of bait and stuck it onto the hook.

And then you heard it again.

It was the same shrill voice, but this time, it sounded like an eerie, angelic song. You froze. The voice lilted, echoing through the trees of the cove. This time, it wasn’t just a single note—it was words you could barely make out, but they were there.

Voda glubokaya i golubaya..

Your breath hitched in your throat. You lifted your head, eyes wide, and slowly looked around, seeing nothing but the black faces of the rocks and trees looking back at you.

Ya smotryu na tebya svoimi krasivymi glazami.

The voice was beautiful, etching out every syllable of the foreign language like poetry. It echoed over the waters in a whisper, filling your ears like honey. You held your breath. You wanted to ask who was there, who was singing, but there was a buzzing sensation through your body like fear, but something different. It was like the voice was reaching through your ears and into your brain, its angelic fingers scratching and poking and twisting your brain around until you were in a dumb daze.

It was when you noticed something in the corner of your eye that your fear came through more prominently. The water, black and opaque, to the side of your boat was rippling with motion. It wasn’t the bubbles of a fish. It wasn’t movement from your still boat. The water rippled from one end of your boat to the other, pausing between ripples like something was swimming right there. But you couldn’t see anything.

Your lungs ached as your breathing picked up, yet you stayed completely still. You watched the water ripple around the bow of your boat, and down the other side. It was circling you, and it was entirely too large to be a fish.

Podoydi blizhe, i ya ispolnyu tvoye zhelaniye.

The voice came again, filtering through the cove’s forest, over the rocks, right into your ears. You don’t know why, but you found yourself slowly leaning over the boat’s edge, peering into the black water that rippled as something swam below it. Your vision became hazy. Your skin felt numb all over. Your heart pounded dangerously fast.

Podoydi blizhe i ya tebya potseluyu.

You barely processed the sound of something brushing the side of your boat before you felt the hard vibration of something hitting the underside of your boat, something big enough to rock it.

“Woah!” you cried out, grabbing the sides of the rocking boat. You tried to get to your feet, but something hit the underside of your boat again, and it tipped over.

You had never felt such cold. The splash of your body hitting the water, and then the water flooding your ears, deafened you like the sound of glass shattering from inside your head. It struck your entire body like lighting—pure, icy shock and arctic pain. It almost felt like your bones cracked upon impact like a frozen branch falling off a cliff.

You couldn’t move as your body sank under the freezing black water. You opened your eyes, felt the cold freeze over your eyeballs. You saw nothing at first and wondered if you were dead, or even worse, struck blind from the freezing water. When you could finally see dim light filtering through the water, as much light as the cloudy early morning could give, you realized you weren’t blind. But the water was so cold, too cold to move. You tried to move your arms and legs, but you felt stiffened, shot with pain.

As you stared into the sea of black and tried to clench your frozen muscles, you saw a shadow forming in the water beyond. You could do nothing but watch with fear as the shadow formed into an unrecognizable silhouette.

Quickly, you glanced up and could see the shadow of your boat flipped upside down on the water’s surface above you. You didn’t realize how deep down you were. Even if your body was working again, it would take a minute for you to reach your boat.

You looked back in front of you. The shadow was closer now. You attempted to flail your arms and were able to move them a little. You screamed through your closed mouth, your lungs burning for air.

The shadow came into the glare of light in the water, and your scream intensified.

It was a woman, or something like it. A woman’s head, and neck, and chest, and torso, and waist, but right where her hips stopped, something else started. Where her thighs would have been separated and covered with skin, they were welded together and covered with scales. It was some sort of a fish tail attached to where the lower half of her body should’ve been. Instead of skin and legs, she was dark red and black scales on a long tail with a finned end that gently undulated in the water to keep her floating. Her tail almost sparkled in the light. It was so dark, but you could see hints of a deep ruby color between the dark scales. Her chest was bare along with the rest of her upper body. Her hair, a dark brown with reddish tint, bowed above her head in the shape of an obsidian flame. Her arms floated beside her elegantly, and you noticed her fingertips were black.

Then there were her eyes. A deep red like the color of her tail. Too much white between the bottom curve of her pupils and her lower lashes. Darkened around the lids with some sort of black paint. Even in the darkness of the water, the red of her irises caught you. Even in the fear, there was beauty. She was haunting, and her eyes stared you down like you were her food.

A mermaid, you thought. You’d only ever heard of them when the sailors of your town made it back from faraway fishing trips. Everyone had chocked the stories up to oceanic hallucination, but now here you were, face to face with one.

And then she smiled. And her teeth were ivory white, and in the middle of where there were some human teeth, there was rows of sharp fangs like blades. Her smile was uncanny, unsettling, evil.

And then you realized she wasn’t a mermaid.

Another choked, muffled scream bellowed out from your burning chest when she darted forward. You could feel the vibrations in the water when she swished her tail in a boast of strength, her hair darting behind her as she surged forward through the water with ease. Her eyes seemed to darken.

Screaming as much as you could underwater, you suddenly found that your muscles had defrosted with your fear. You swam upwards, kicking and thrashing as much as you could, your body fatigued from the cold and the lack of oxygen. Your muscles burned and quivered as you overworked them, your lungs aching, your throat burning, vision growing dark until finally you burst above the surface, gulping down a large breath of air and several more after that.

You didn’t have much time to breathe because you became aware that the siren was still below you. Looking around, you saw that your boat had floated too far away, and the nearest place you could go was the shoreline several yards away.

Before you could make a break for the shore, you noticed how quiet everything was. The siren could have easily grabbed you by now. You tried to look into the water that splashed up on your chin, but it was still black. A soft mist came down from the bleary sky, further wetting your head.

What if she was right below your feet where they kicked obscurely in the water? What if she grabbed you and dragged you down? Just the mere thought made you start to slowly float your way towards the shore. Maybe the siren was just like a shark, and it was only sudden movement that made her attack.

You kept slowly swimming backwards, craning your head all around to get a comprehensive view of the water’s surface around you. There was nothing. No swishing of water at your feet. No ripples on the surface except the ones you caused. Not even any bubbles.

Was she gone? Had she decided you weren’t worth the trouble? Or were you just hallucinating? Maybe this was the oceanic hallucinations everyone said sailors had. Maybe all that fog had made you paranoid.

Your body was rocking with how icy the water was, though you just felt numb now. You looked behind you at the island, wondering if you could seek shelter in the trees until someone came looking for you, or maybe you could make some sort of flotation device out of something. That was silly. Your best bet would be to go back to your boat and hand-paddle your way back home.

As you turned your head back around towards the direction of your boat, you gasped and froze.

There the siren was. Only the upper half of her head was above the water. You saw her hair, much more reddish now in the light, slick to her head. Her forehead, speckled with droplets of water. Her red eyes that seemed to reflect a glare of red on the surface of the water in front of her. Beyond that, only the bridge of her nose, the end of it under the surface. She was completely still, as if she was standing on flat ground. She was only maybe two feet away from you.

“P-p-p-p,” you tried to speak, but your body was convulsing from the cold, your lips numb and blue. “Please,” you whispered in a croak. It was getting hard to breathe as the harsh cold invaded your blood. You were begging for your life because, in the haze of your hypothermia, you recognized those eyes.

You’d heard stories from the village sailors about a particular siren. You’d seen her image sketched in books. Always those red eyes, that red tail. This wasn’t a mermaid, and she wasn’t just a siren. She was the deadliest ocean creature that all the myths and legends described. She’d instilled fear in children of your parent’s and even your grandparent’s generations just through stories of her malice. She commanded every corner of the seas, and sailors who were superstitious enough always kept an eye out for her during their voyages, lest she take them down.

She wasn’t a mermaid. She wasn’t just a siren.

She was the Scarlet Siren.

Somehow, she knew you recognized her. Maybe it was the look on your face, or the way you froze. She stretched her lips open in a charming yet malicious smile. And then slowly, inch by inch, she slipped under the water.

Letting out a choked scream, you quickly turned back towards the shore and started to swim. Your heart felt like it was going to rip right out of your chest if the Scarlet Siren didn’t do it first.

When you were halfway towards the shore, thrashing the water and letting out choked breaths, you suddenly felt hands grab your ankles and yank you beneath the surface.

You thrashed under the water, your long hair coming undone and floating around your face as you watched the Scarlet Siren come closer to you. You kicked at her so hard that your shoes came off your feet, your foot hitting her tail and feeling the fishy scales there.

The Siren’s hands were climbing up your body, grabbing at your coat and pulling it off as you spiraled in the water, trying to get out of her hold. Finally, you were able to kick her tail hard enough that the force sent you popping above the surface like a fish. You were able to take one gasp of air before she pulled you right back down again.

This time, the Siren growled and nosedived towards your waist, her teeth clamping down on the fabric of your shirt. You squealed as she ripped your shirt off with her teeth, the fabric so easily tearing. The blades of her teeth had caught the skin of your belly, four long scratches bleeding through your pale skin, the blood clouding in the water. The Siren paused at the sight of your blood diffusing in the water, distracted enough for you to kick her in the face so hard that she turned downwards in the water.

You took your chance to swim, popping up through the surface and pushing yourself harder than ever. The shore was right in front of you. Your body ached and the skin of your stomach stung, but you kept going until finally your fingers touched black rock.

Coughing up water, you lifted your body onto the pebbly surface, the blood from the scratches finally able to drip down your skin, the red following the lines of water on your waist. You flopped onto your back and pulled yourself more onto the shore.

You knew it wasn’t over. The Siren’s head popped out of the water, and her hands grabbed your ankles again. You cried out and tried to kick, but she held your legs down as she lifted herself completely out of the water.

You watched the Scarlet Siren crawl over you, her strong arms planting down in the rocks on either side of your head, entrapping you. The shockingly heavy weight of her tail crushed your legs down on the rock, the smell of ocean filling your nostrils. It felt like the end of your life. You thought to yourself, as the Siren laid herself over you, that this was what rabbits felt like with dogs. This is what lambs felt like with lions. Birds with cats. Fish with fishermen. Sailors with sirens.

“Now, what’s a pretty girl like yourself doing all alone out on these waters, hmm?” Her voice was shockingly heavenly, smooth like butter and sweet like a bird’s song. It caught you off guard and somehow made you more afraid. There was also some sort of foreign accent laced in her words, somewhat Slavic. How could a monster like herself look so beautiful and sound so sweet?

You could only make incoherent noises as you watched the Siren’s tail start to morph. It ripped itself apart, and the scales sunk inwards, and the flesh shaped itself into the shape of a human woman’s legs, and pale skin etched itself over them. She was now the sight of a fully human woman, naked and lain over you, except for her razor teeth and red demonic eyes and murderous intent.

“Do you know who I am?” she asked more seriously, her eyes flickering over you. Her underwater tactics left you in only a brassiere and fisherman pants.

You were shaking from the cold, but her body felt surprisingly warm on yours. Fear had overcome you, leaving you dumb and pathetic.

“Please d-don’t kill me,” you cried, tears rushing down your cheeks.

“You didn’t answer me, detka,” she continued calmly, bringing a hand to your chin and holding it. Her skin felt inhumanly smooth. “Do you know who I am?”

Breathing heavily, you squeezed your eyes shut. “The S-Scarlet Siren.”

The Siren puckered her lips. “What a demeaning term. My scales are more maroon, don’t you think? My name is Wanda.” She paused, pressing the pad of her thumb into the dimple on your chin. “What’s your name, pretty girl?”

You didn’t answer. She trailed her hand down your stomach, smearing the blood there before she grabbed hold of your pants. Sitting back on her knees, she started to yank them down. Instinctively, you fought her, trying to kick her away.

“Stop!” you screamed loud enough that a few birds from the forest cawed and fluttered. The Siren pursed her lips and used her strength to pull your pants off, but you flopped onto your stomach like a fish and started frantically crawling away.

“Stop it, human,” she growled, grabbing the back of your thighs and dragging you back down the rocks. Using the opportunity, she ripped the last of your clothing off, your brassiere, and threw it to the side. Grabbing you by your wet hair, she turned you back onto your back and lowered down. You were face-to-face with her now, about to try and push her off until she opened her mouth.

Voda glubokaya i golubaya.

YA smotryu na tebya svoimi krasivymi glazami.

Podoydi blizhe, i ya ispolnyu tvoye zhelaniye.

Podoydi blizhe i ya tebya potseluyu.

It was the song you’d heard earlier, before your boat tipped. But as she sang it this time, that buzzing feeling within you grew stronger. Her honey-like voice lilted in your ears as she sang, and you found yourself leaning upwards. Her red eyes, glowing now, watched you tremble as you weakly lifted yourself, your own eyes growing wide as she entranced you. You were very easy for her.

Smiling through her song, she snaked her arm under your waist and easily lifted you up, pressing your bare body to hers. You were so cold against her, so feeble and weak. Your eyes trained on her lips, your irises glowing red from her magic flowing within you. She could feel your mind breaking down, letting her in, growing weaker and weaker. Finally, you closed your eyes and leaned up to kiss her. The Siren held your head with her large hand and kissed you softly, her lips smooth and slippery.

Her song was how she got her victims, but her kiss was how she trapped them. You were under her will now.

Breaking the kiss slowly, the Siren laid you gently back down on the rock. “It’s much easier when you’re calmer, detka. Now, tell me your name.”

“Y/n,” you whispered inaudibly, but the Siren’s ears were trained enough to hear you.

“Y/n,” she repeated in her lilting voice, smiling with her sharp teeth. “You’re the prettiest one I’ve ever caught, y/n.”

Her eyes raked down your limp body that she held in her arm, her free hand pressing against the bloody scratches on your tummy. She gathered some of your blood on her blackened finger and lifted it up to her mouth, sucking your blood off her long finger. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head like a reptile.

Though you felt paralyzed, there was still some consciousness left in your head. You were starting to realize that there was a reason sailors didn’t let their women on their boats, and that the reason was hovering over you.

“You’re right, beautiful girl,” she purred, “But don’t even think about those other human women. You’re the best one of them all.” Her voice had an edge of malice, and it was sickening to hear it through the sweet, complimentary tone.

Her red eyes flickered back to the scratches on your tummy, and she leaned down, letting her long, snaky tongue slither out of her mouth and onto the scratches, licking up your blood. Her breath fanned over the expanse of your stomach, covered in goosebumps. Her hands gripped either side of your ribcage as she grazed her mouth over your stomach, landing on a spot off to the side before digging her teeth into your flesh.

“Ah!” you screamed out, feeling all the blades of her teeth stab into you. She let go, revealing a bloody bite mark on your torso.

“So sweet and fresh,” she growled.

A particular wave of water came up aggressively onto the shore, rolling over her ankles and causing scales to appear before the water receded and human skin covered it again.

The Siren moved to your chest, her large hand grabbing one of your tits and squeezing while she rolled her long, thin tongue over your nipple, her siren eyes flashing up at you. You squirmed, whimpering from the pain but also from another uncontrollable emotion. You were entranced by her, under her will, and had no control over any feeling she gave you emotionally or physically.

Moving her mouth to your other breast, she sunk her teeth into the mound of flesh, causing you to cry out again. You attempted to lift your arms to fight back, but she quickly snatched them and pinned them to the sharp rocks.

Voda glubokaya i golubaya.

YA smotryu na tebya svoimi krasivymi glazami.

Podoydi blizhe, i ya ispolnyu tvoye zhelaniye.

Podoydi blizhe i ya tebya potseluyu.

She sang again, her voice filling you as she gave you more bites between each lyric, blood now dripping down your sides. You were dizzy, from the blood or the trance or the entire situation, and helpless. Your blood was smeared across the entire lower half of her face, dripping from her chin, staining her razor teeth as she grinned. It was so strange, seeing a monstrous look on such a seductive, beautiful woman.

When the Siren glided her tongue down the center of your stomach, you felt a twitch within you. When her hands gripped your hips and scratched downward, coming to grab your tender thighs and spread them open, you obliged. You felt hotter now, as if steam would start rising out of your body into the cold air. There were already billows of fog coming out of your lips with each breath.

“Such a delicate angel,” the Siren purred at you as she lowered her body down. As she settled her elbows over your thighs, her legs tucked back into the water. The waves gushed over her bottom and onto her lower back, and when it receded, she had a tail again, halfway resting in the water, the crimson fin on the very end flipping up in the water instinctively.

You were naked, bleeding on the rocks, being overtaken by a Siren, the Scarlet Siren no less, but you felt overcome with a pleasurable sensation. It was a mix between drunken and sexual as the Siren licked her tongue over your thighs.

When she had you to a point of gyrating your hips for her, she finally put her mouth over your core, sucking on your sensitive nub immediately. You cried out, grabbing onto rocks as she suckled on you, causing arousal to already slowly gush out of you.

Her tongue was long and thin and bumpy, so when she lapped it over your slit and then pushed it deep inside you, you nearly went blind. She snaked her tongue in and out of her, her hands grabbing your thighs harshly as she forced your legs open wider, moaning onto your clit. She seemed hungry, ravenous, as she devoured you, and you felt the terrifying hardness of the very edge of her teeth almost hitting your sensitive skin every once in a while. You could tell that she had done this before, and you wondered what number you were going to be in the list of women she had killed.

“Ah!” you cried out, feeling yourself coming close already. The feeling was something entirely different, and before you knew it, you were clenching around her tongue and crying out, your body arching off the rocks.

“So delicious,” the Siren hissed when she retracted her tongue, staying where she was between your legs while you panted and squirmed. “And so tight.”

Without warning, she placed four fingers in a row at your entrance. You swallowed hard, your consciousness breaking through a little to fight back by thrashing around. You tried to close your legs, but she was amazingly strong.

The Scarlet Siren opened her mouth to sing her song, and you relaxed involuntarily. You could only scream when she forced four of her fingers into you. The pain was dizzying, along with all the blood you’d lost, and you were halfway unconscious as she stretched your cunt out around her fingers, forcing you to take all four of her unnaturally long digits. Your walls resisted, but she kept thrusting, lapping up any arousal and blood along the way. She bit into your thigh, rubbed her face in the wound and curled her fingers inside you, watching you tremble and squirm dumbly.

You finally started to come to when the pain went away, pleasure taking over. The stretch felt otherworldly, her tongue flicking your clit and lapping at it, fingers pumping deep and hard into you so that it was all you could feel. Besides the gentle waves of the water near you, all you could hear was the squelching noises that she committed on you. She devoured you and fucked you eagerly, hungrily, like an animal, becoming more and more carnal the more she had of you.

When your second climax crashed over you and you convulsed uncontrollably, whimpering and screaming and thrashing, the Siren chuckled victoriously between your thighs.

When the climax left you, your body dropped limp on the rocks. Your vision went blurry, and all you could see was red eyes hovering over you staring at you, and the dark crimson of blood on her face.

“You did so good, detka,” she lilted, caressing your cheek with her soft hand. “I think I’ll keep you.”

Fortunately for you, you could feel nothing but bliss. It was the Siren’s entrancement on you that made you feel heavenly as she took hold of one of your ankles and dragged you into the water like a dead fish, swimming away into the black and taking you with her.

Your abandoned boat still floated upside down a ways off from the shore. The cloud of fog was still on the sea’s surface, crowding into the cove. The water washed away your blood from the rocks.

[psalm22-6]

The Exhibitors Herald, June 1926

The first of the deluxe presentations was at the Forrest theatre, Philadelphia, Thursday evening. The audience was composed largely of members of the Advertising Clubs of the World, which was holding an international convention in the Quaker City, and the members of the Poor Richard Club. There were also present a large turnout of society, official and judicial life of Philadelphia. The other audience, which included Mrs. Coolidge, members of the diplomatic corps and Washington newspapermen, as guests of the National Press club, viewed the picture at a special screening Friday night at Poli’s theatre in Washington. General W. W. Atterbury; Senator-elect [and notorious political boss] Wm. S. Vare; Senator [and law professor] George W. Pepper; Lieut. Commander Geo. B. Wilson, U. S. Navy [not to be confused with the character from the Great Gatsby] ; Mrs. Barclay Warburton [civil rights supporter and journalist] ; Major Norman MacLeod; E. T. Stottsbury; Paul Thompson; Alexander Van Rensselaer; Mrs. Charlemagne Tower; Dr. H. J. Tily [department story owner, mason] ; Mr. and Mrs. Theodore W. Reath; Frank Smith; Mr. and Mrs. Jos. N. Snellenburg [merchant in clothing trade] ; Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Block; Mr. and Mrs. Jules E. Mastbaum [movie theater and department store magnates] ; George Nitsche [possibly an affiliate of U. Penn]; Josiah H. Penniman [Provost of U. Penn] ; J. Willis Martin [a judge]; H. S. McDevitt; John J. Monaghan. Judge Buffington, of Pittsburgh; Thos Finletter [could be one of a a number of lawyers with this name]; Mr. and Mrs. A. L. Einstein; Maurice Paillard, French consul; Robt. Von Moschzisker [justice of the Supreme Court of Pennsylvania]; Mayor W. Freeland Kendrick; Geo. H. Elliott, director of public safety; Chas. B. Hall, president of City Council; Dr. Charles Hart; Rev. Wm. H. Fineschriber; Chas Fox, district attorney [could be a coincidence but Charles Fox III and IV are both currently lawyers in Pennsylvania]; John Fisler, president Manufacturers Club [golf afficianado]; Albert M. Greenfield [real estate broker and developer]; Jos. P. Gaffney; Mr. and Mrs. Ellis Gimbel [department store owner]; Daniel Gimbel [brother and co-owner along with Ellis]; J. D. Lit; Richard Gimbel [son of Ellis Gimble]; Benedict Gimbel [brother of Ellis and Daniel]; Colonel Robert Glendinning [banker]; Benjamin Golder [member of the Pennsylvania State House of Representatives], Agnew T. Dice [President of Reading Railroad]. Dr. Leon Elmaleh [founder of the Levantine Jews Society of Philadelphia]; H. Gilbert Cassidy [a judge]; Utley E. Crane [author of Business Law for Business Men]; Cyrus H. K. Curtis [magazine publisher]; Chas. S. Caldwell; G. W. Cole; Hampton L. Carson [lawyer, professor, state Attorney general]; A. Lincoln Acker [Philidelphia port collector]; Max Aron [lawyer]; Eugene C. Bonniwell [a judge]; Chas. L. Brown; Edward Groome; Chas. L. Bartlett; Edward Bok [editor of the Ladies Home Journal]; Mr. and Mrs. Geo. H. Lorimer [editor of the Saturday Evening Post]; Edw. Bacon; Chas. Curtis Harrison [a judge]; Samuel S. Eels, Rev. J. J. O’Hara [future Archbishop of Philadelphia], and Bishop Thos. J. Garland, D. D. [Episcopalian bishop]

There were a bunch of Universal employees in attendance too but that's less interesting to me. Let's see who went to the Washington show

Both showings were under the auspices of Ambassador Henri Beragner of France and Marcel Knecht, French publisher and trade representative. Dr. Ferdnand Heurteur, leader of the orchestra of the Paris Opera House, came to the United States to conduct the orchestras at these two showings. Among the distinguished guests at the Washington showing were: Don Juan Riano, Spanish ambassador; Senor and Senora de Mathieu, Chilan ambassador; Raoul Tilmont, secretary, Belgium embassy; G. H. Thompson, second secretary, British embassy; A. J. Pack, British embassy; Eduardo Racedo and Madame Racedo, first secretary, Argentine embassy; Conrado Traverso, Argentine embassy; Dr. and Senora Velarde, Peruvian ambassador; Dr. and Madame Santiago F. Bedoya, secretary, Peruvian embassy; Senor and Senora Tellez, Mexican ambassador; Senor and Senora Castro, secretary, Mexican embassy; Ambassador de Martino, Italy; Colonel Augusto Villa, miltary attache, Italian embassy; Count and Countess Sommati di Mombello, Italian embassy; Signor Leonardo Vitetti, Italian embassy. Baron and Baroness Ago Maltzan, German embassy; Mr. and Madame Matsuidaira, Japanese embassy; Mr. and Madame Gurgel de Amaral, Brazilian embassy; Senor and Senora de Sanchez Aballi, Cuban embassy; Senor Don Jose T. Baron, secretary, Cuban embassy; Brigadier General Georges A. L. Dumont, military attache, French embassy; Mr. Jules Henry, first secretary, French embassy; Major and Madame Georges Thenault, French embassy; Captain and Madame Willm, French embassy; Mr. A. Konow Bojsen, secretary, Danish legation; Mr. and Madame Marc Peter, Swiss ambassador; Mr. Andor de Hertelendy, Hungarian embassay; Senor and Senora Ricardo Jaimes Freyre, Bolivian embassy. Mr. and Mrs. Timothy A. Smiddy, minister, Irish Free State; Mr. and Madame Simoposilis, Minister from Greece; Mr. and Madame Prochnik, Austrian ambassador; Mr. and Madame Charles L. Seya, Latvian embassy; Mahmoud Samy Pasha and Madame Samy Pasha, Egyptian embassy; Mr. Zdenek Fierlinger, Minister from Czechoslovakia; Mr. Simeon Radeff, Bulgarian embassy; Mr. and Madame Jan Ciechanowski, Polish minister; Senor don Manuel Zavala, Nicaragua embassy, and Mr. and Madame Bostrom, Swedish ambassador.