Is this a writing/drawing challenge for Sapphic September 2024, because I didn't see any, and my brain just waterfalled this all over a page?
It can be if you would like it to be.
No pressure, like, at all.
But if you do, maybe tag your works with Sapphtember so people can discover them?
Cohost Sapphic September 2024 writing prompt: 10 — Girls who are frosty
Solihull staggers into her place with Mary's eldest-of-several sister Magda, her jacket covered in scraps of twitching goo, swearing.
"What happened to you guys?" says Bong Dave's little sister, sitting on the edge of Solihull's kitchen table swinging her legs, soy-chew stick dangling from the corner of her mouth.
Solihull makes a disgusted growling noise, and stomps off in the direction of her room.
"PR stunt," Magda says. "Company giving out free goobot drones, little fist-sized guys, advertising — I dunno, but PR, you know? Lil' useless guys with a fifty-cent D-pad remote with a sealed-in button cell. Swung by to bat our eyelashes and pick up as many as we could score each."
"They don't sound much," Bong Dave's little sister says.
"Started handing them out in the morning," Magda says. "Someone online had the control scheme cracked within an hour; you can drive them off a real wireless connection. It's free hardware!"
Bong Dave's little sister tilts her head in the direction Solihull disappeared, eyes wide.
"But of course, someone had cracked them entirely by lunchtime, so at about that point, kids started coming back with the fuckers reprogrammed," Magda says. "Yeeting them at passers-by. They hit, they stick like velcro, they blow up into pulsing multi-chamber air pumps, just these — wobbly air blisters, all stuck to people's clothes, their faces, in their hair...."
"Ick," Bong Dave's little sister says, wide-eyed.
"Then they sprout hollow cilia all over and start venting the airflow through them. Just—" she holds boths hand out together and frantically wiggles all her fingers. "Ibblebibblebibblebibble! Like a dollar-store made-for-streaming movie monster!"
"Oh man."
"I tried to tell her not to pull it off — we can just go back to the car, fire up a laptop, reflash it to let go! — but noooo, Solihull grabs it, shreds it, now it's going to be a real ass-pain getting it out of her clothes."
"That sucks," Bong Dave's little sister says.
"Oh yeah," Magda says, and smirks. "I'd make yourself scare, Solly goes like cold murder like this." She links her arm ruthlessly through Bong Dave's little sister's, tipping her off the table. "You're the one my littlest sister is screwing, yeah? Let's go talk."
"Uh," Bong Dave's little sister says, meek and slightly plaintive, as she's towed out of the room: "uhhhhh...?"
