#Dream Askew

[0rbwitch]

If you've ever wanted to play Dream Askew, join me! We can hold space for the rollercoaster of queer feelings as we watch society collapse around me.

[demonbismuth]

This is just Dream Askew by Avery Alder. a gm-less ttrpg about a post-apocalypse queer enclave

the lack of dykes n more specifically butch dykes in post apocalyptic media is bizarre bc every single lesbian i know is the most prepared person in any room n not even for survivalist reasons we do that shit for fun

[worstgirl-online]

I'd like to take a moment away from the endless yuriposting to talk about something else

virtually every ttrpg post I see is about D&D

and it breaks my heart a little bit

don't get me wrong, you're allowed to like and enjoy whatever it is that you're into, but I get this feeling that a lot of folks play D&D because it's the game they hear about everyone else playing, and don't know what else is out there

there are plenty of folks who've critiqued a lot of aspects of D&D at length (much more articulately than I can), so I'm not gonna do that here. I will just say that I find the mechanics kinda clunky, and lend themselves toward encouraging players toward murder-hoboiness, complicated combat resolution, campaigns dragging on forever, and necessitating a very skilled GM to keep all of this from bogging down the game. Also it's kind of a lot of work. I get that it can be fun to create characters, plan campaigns, and do extensive worldbuilding, and if that's your jam then more power to you, but it does take a lot of time and energy

the thing is, there are thousands of other games out there that are worth your consideration, especially in light of WotC being a bunch of bastard capitalists

one such game is Apocalypse World, which throws players into a post-apocalyptic setting with a complex web of relationships and places in the power structure of their environment. the thing is, none of this is prepared beforehand. the players and the MC start from scratch, and cooperatively build the setting together, put together their characters in a quick and dirty multiple-choice fashion, figure out what sorts of threats and goings-on are happening around them, are prompted to establish relationships between their characters (friendly or otherwise), and let loose in the world they've just created. And then you play to find out what happens

another cool thing the game does is break the default 'adventuring party' format, and give players the opportunity to play characters that might traditionally be NPCs, like the proprietor of a seedy establishment or even the de facto leader of a community, which in turn radically alters the way events and characters interact with each other

what it ultimately gives us is a game where the players have more license to establish the fiction of the setting and what happens as a result of their actions, in collaboration with each other and the MC, to tell an emergent story, and to do so in a way that can be started and play a whole session in an afternoon with no prep

in the years since AW was released, it has spawned countless other games that use its mechanics in almost every setting imaginable. most of these are referred to as Powered by the Apocalypse (PbtA)

some of the big ones include:

Monsterhearts: a game about supernatural teenagers dealing with being both

Blades in the Dark: a dark Victorian fantasy in which the PCs are a criminal organization pulling off an endless variety of jobs. it also altered the mechanics of AW enough to establish its own Forged in the Dark system, and in turn spawned a bunch of other games

Dungeon World: a high fantasy PbtA game into which AFAIK you can port your existing D&D materials

and then we get to possibly my favorite pair of games, Dream Askew and Dream Apart

they carry the DNA of PbtA games in their blood, but take a radical departure from the mechanics to fully establish a diceless and GM-less framework called Belonging Outside Belonging

In Dream Askew players are members of a queer enclave on the margins of a collapsing society, navigating gender, relationships, survival, and conflict both from outside and within the enclave

Dream Apart is a historical fantasy game in which players are Jews living in an Eastern European shtetl, dealing with complicated family dynamics, conflict between tradition and newly developing movements, an often-hostile Christendom, and the forces of the Unseen World

what both of these games have in common is that they are focused on marginalized communities struggling both internally and externally. and to me at least, they are pretty accessible. everyone is a player, and everyone works together to establish the setting and take turns playing its various elements, and its diceless token system encourages players to play their characters as flawed, fallible people who make complicated choices that truly affect each other and the world around them

these two games, published in a single volume, have since spawned other games using the BoB framework like Wanderhome (Traveling Animal-Folk Pastoral Fantasy), galactic 2e (a galaxy far away), and BALIKBAYAN: Returning Home (Filipino Folklore-inspired Cyberpunk)

all in all, there's no right or wrong way to play games with your friends. and I know this was mostly about PbtA games and their derivatives, when there are so many more games and systems out there waiting for you to discover them. I just want you to know about them, in case you didn't already, and maybe take the chance to experiment with games that encourage different types of play, and explore worlds and identities outside that of high fantasy conquering heroes

[haveyouplayedthisttrpg]

Have you played DREAM ASKEW / DREAM APART ?

Avery Alder and Benjamin Rosenbaum

Queer strife amid the apocalypse and Jewish fantasy of the shtetl. Two games about belonging outside belonging that use only tokens and are GM-less. No dice no masters, PbtA.

[theaskew]

Amy Bessone (American, b. 1970, lives and works in Los Angeles), Reclining Woman Still Life No. 2, 2013. Acrylic on Canvas, 25 x 30 in.

[zatartheperfect-blog]

Urban Shadows second addition does indeed continue to use the debt system.

@theresattrpgforthat my wife and I are going to be presenting at a conference this month about the intersection of roleplaying games and social/political imagination - do you have any recs for games we should look into that we may have missed?

[readysetjo]

I just want to stop having dreams about this person I said goodbye to over a year ago I’m so tired

[fortunaestalta]

[noiraffogato]

Dream Askew / Dream Apart

ttrpgs are poetry. to Me

To See With Eyes Unclouded By Hate | The Fall of Home | Uncanny | Shadow / Giant | Misspent Youth | Thorn | Eyes on the Prize | Cracker Barrel Has Fallen

[s-che]

new patreon essay is up! this time, i talk about dreams, pirates, imagining queer & revolutionary histories, and how "historical accuracy" is a kind of a fantasy.

check it out!

shout-outs and citations in this essay go to:

ben rosenbaum for DREAM ASKEW

avery alder for DREAM APART

campaign / the one shot network / james d'amato for CAMPAIGN: SKYJACKS

david jenkins for OUR FLAG MEANS DEATH

four dreams, four stories, four imaginings of radical and renegotiated community. couldn't have written beneath pirate flags without them.

[quietlyblooms]

i’m gonna fight my own body

[nanamiskentos]

NERDS DO IT BETTER ☓. ── ( 呪術廻戦 )

⌗ turns out they're the best you've ever had, and you think you're gonna' have to come back for more!

ᯓ starring ─. jjk ensemble cast : nerd! gojo, nerd! geto, nerd! sukuna, nerd! nanami, nerd! toji, nerd! choso

𝓶𝓾𝓵𝓽𝓲. ㅤ﹑ ( 呪術廻戦 x afab!reader )  ─── ❛ cw ⌓. mdni. college au. risky, public séx. handjóbs. óverstím. hate séx. fíngeríng. fiíming (consénsual). édging. vírgin!kuna. óral (m). missiónary. soft séx. brééding kínk. créampíe. backshóts. óral (f). wc ⌓. 3.5k.

﹙ 五条 悟 : gojo satoru ﹚ ─ advanced mathematics, physics

"oh, fuck!" gojo's absolutely quivering, throwing back a head of tousled, snowy hair, "that's, ouh, that's way better than i ever coulda' even dreamed of." pale-pink lips snapping sharp around another moan as he shudders, "can ya' do it again?"

you're clicking your tongue, doing your very best to bite back a flushed smile yourself. knowing that you've got the smartest, honour roll student pliant beneath you, his thighs splayed out and bare — the skin spottled with patches of rosy pink, dusted with fine white hairs. he's still got that campus sweatshirt on, rumpled over the askew collar of the dress shirt underneath. where you're eager to run your hands, to slide your fingers up past the low trail of hair on gojo's groin.

it doesn't hurt that gojo's, like, ridiculously gorgeous. thick-rimmed glasses foggy over vibrant blue eyes, framed by ridiculously long lashes. and you can see him gnawing at the inside of his cheek as your hand keeps at a steady pace. pumping him over and over, until thick ropes of seed are coating your hand. it must be the nth climax of his by now, but it seems neither of you are that eager to call it a day.

you smile at how gojo squeezes his eyes shut, glasses skipping askew so you can fondly kiss his forehead. titling his glasses right back into place, all while he bites back a low, rumbled groan, "a-another?" it's a plea, almost hopeful for you to milk his poor, throbbing cock until there's not much else it can give.

"mhm, i don't know, satoru. it's kinda' risky, don'tcha think?" you're trying to keep your voice down, knowing that anyone could round the corner here. they could move past the stack of chairs littered behind the physics subsection of books and old papers to find gojo spread out so sluttily over this chair, his pants drifting past his ankles while you lean over behind the desk to jerk him off. workshop questions and calculations long discarded as the most intelligent man on campus chases some form of pent-up relief from you, his angel that's solely heaven sent.

gojo's the type of guy that's always moving, whether he's skimming and flipping through pages of glossy textbooks or speeding over the butterfly keys of his steel-grey mac, and right now?

he's still in motion, tapping trimmed nails in staccato beats against the plastic table. drumming his fingers over and over as he does his best to not let you see the crystalline tears of delicious overstimulation pooling at the corners of his eyes. shuddering as you pull back, letting his big cock snap back, smearing a thin line of translucent cum against his blue sweatshirt.

cursing because he knows he's gonna' have to peel that top off before his next class, before anyone can figure out exactly what that stain is, "fuck, we still got 15 minutes before that lecture, yeah? one more, please, baby, jus' one more."

﹙ 夏油 傑 : geto suguru ﹚ ─ philosophy, sociology

"what did i say? eyes on the lenses, pretty girl." geto's determined and mean when he's like this, but then again, when is he not a cunt?

that bitchy nerd's always sniping at you, doing dumb shit like taking your seat in class and sucking up to the teacher — batting pretty, dark lashes at the tutor while throwing a nasty look your way when you get the answer right.

but as of this moment, there aren't any right answers in your head. not when geto's got you propped up in his broad lap. right in front of a blinking video camera, perched on a shaky tripod as he swirls his digits as deep as he can into your pretty, swollen pussy.

"s-sugu', feels so good," you moan, sinking your teeth into the plush flesh of your lower lip as geto's face softens for a split second before hardening once more. handsome features crinkling as he shakes his head of choppy, raven hair, "didn't ask if it felt good, geez. i asked for the answer to the question, or are we jus' having trouble following instructions as well?"

"hate ya' so, so much, still, i don' even remember the fuckin' question," you're sniffling, knowing that he's so deliciously knuckle deep within you right now. your clear, glossy arousal coating his fingers as he pumps the digits in and out of your heat with a satisfying squelch!

geto smiles, as though he wanted you to say that while he was rolling a fat thumb over your clitoral hood. berry lips pulling at the corners as he tuts, using the hand that was previously holding apart your thighs to slide a pristine paper over his bed, clicking his tongue before he intones, "tch', let me quiz you, again, 'cause we got that test tomorrow. though, 'm not sure it's much good. now, how would you explain structural functionalism?"

your mind's absolutely turning to incredible, pleasurable mush as you struggle to form coherent sentences. instead, staring at the blinking red light blearing out through the dark haze of geto's form room, and swallowing as he begins pulling at the sensitive ache of your clit, "it's, like, the premise of everything havin' a purpose. like, hahh, society being a well-oiled machine n' people are jus' cogs and — fuck! suguru, can't even focus like this."

your back is writhing against geto's toned chest, and you can feel the dark strands of hair that have escaped his hairtie tickling at your cheek, "i know, beautiful," he coos, almost as though he quite likes you, rather than the loathing that he claims, "now tell me, who's ideas does structural functionalism align with? answer quick, and i'll make ya' cum this time, promise!"

brain whirring on overtime to snap out a rushed breath, "emile durkheim!" your lips pouting as you heave in a candied breath of air, "that's right, isn't it? now you promised, so please! make me cum, sugu', fuck."

you can hear geto chuckle, "you didn't make me pinky promise, though?" and he's revelling in how you huff, and curse him out, "besides, i like watching you squirm all pretty for the camera. helps me remember my notes so much more. y'know that 'm gonna' go back and revise this later."

﹙ 両面 宿儺 : ryomen sukuna ﹚ ─ anthropology, history

"you're a virgin?" your mouth parting into a sweet gasp as charlotte tilbury leaves sticky strands of product stringing between your pretty lips. because, there's just no way...

sukuna's rolling his crimson eyes, and shoving his tattooed hands into the ragged pockets of his thick hoodie, "why don't we focus on the project again? y'know that the entire thing is due next week, and this is our last meet-up before we gotta' present?"

the burly, quiet man's clearly flushed — with his tanned cheeks painted awash in some watercolour, blushy hue. muttering something about insolent cheerleaders and how he's refusing to get a bad grade because of you. but you're never one to lose. you just cross your arms over your chest, and a little more firmly on purpose, just to watch sukuna gulp as his gaze drops right down to that shadow of cleavage, "hey, you're the one who asked if i was sleeping with the quarterback."

sukuna's just too easy, because for all his churlish, jerkish attitude, he's not immune at all to your easiest charms. like a pretty red lollipop, or a spritz of your favourite body mist, or when you hike the hem of your skirt up just a little bit higher to doodle faint hearts on your flesh. and now he's grunting, drawing his eyes away from your torso to gulp, training his eyes solely on the project rubric, "yeah. was jus' a question. i don't give a fuck."

"mhm, sure." snapping strawberry gum between your teeth, "because i'm not with him." you grin as sukuna stiffens, almost snapping the poor, thin frame of a cheap lead pencil between his thick fingers.

"no?" he sounds almost, almost sheepish. battered headphones clattering around his marked neck as he jerks, and you almost coo. for it's honestly quiet sweet at how interested he sounds. ironic, considering ryomen sukuna is one of the most surly men on campus. always with his nose buried in some medieval book, always some exemplary paper of his pinned to the student noticeboard about the heian era.

"no," you repeat, scooting just a little bit closer to his broad frame, "because 'm interested in someone else, ya' see. like you, 'kuna."

the pencil snaps, the wood finally giving out to the quick motion of sukuna's fingers clamping down on it. pieces scattering and littering the table as broken lead clutters, the remnants of a man who's just had his world rocked but doesn't want to admit it, "hah, funny," he's muttering, "yer' really interested in me?" all you had murmured was a tempting, alluring little phrase that would remain with sukuna forever, something like, "want me to prove it?"

and that's exactly how you ended up like this. eyes blown wide, little hearts dancing around your pupils as you took in the sheer size and girth of what sukuna was hiding in his faded jeans. lips parting to close over the weeping tip of his thick shaft, and grinning at how there's already sheer, salty drops leaking out.

"fuck, w-wait," sukuna's groaning, with his spiky head of two-toned hair thrown back against your desk chair, "it's sensitive." clacking his sharp teeth around a wanton moan when you tongue at the veins bulging on the sides of his cock, "already feels like 'm gonna –"

"cum?" you offer helpfully, flattening your tongue against him so he throbs, hot and heavy, into your mouth. releasing yourself from his cock with a loud pop! and you're sure glad that your sorority roommates aren't home, for you're not sure how to explain that you're dripping wet yourself, just from sucking off the most infamous, ill-reputed nerd on campus.

"yeah, yeah," sukuna rasps, a heady and low tone that escapes from his chest, "and that would be e-embarrassing, fuck, that's — that's a good spot." sighing as you trail teasing fingers over folded skin, right at the underside of the base of his cock.

"not that embarrassing, 'kuna," you shake your head, loosening the slick strand of saliva that was stringing away from your lips. replacing your mouth with an entirely different type of gloss, and one that you're growing increasingly fond of, "and besides, we got a lotta' time before my roommates come back. plenty of other things we can do, hah."

﹙ 七海 建人 : nanami kento ﹚ ─ economics

"but i jus' think numbers are kind of beautiful, wouldn't you say? like they have their own satisfying figure and precision?"

you smack nanami's chest, leaving a small, cherry hue over your boyfriend's pectorals, "your girlfriend is literally under you, and you're talking about numbers being beautiful."

he gives you an apologetic smile, thick waves of golden hair dampened with the sweat of exertion that was to be expected when he was delivering the sweetest, most loving strokes to your very core. thick, bulging tip kissing your cervix as nanami huffs, "sorry, darling. nothing's more beautiful than my girl, and, heh, yer' figure is the one i love the most."

"that's better," you gasp, feeling him rummage through your swollen pussy. girthy shaft bulging past throbbing, dripping folds as he delivers hit after surefire hit against your g-spot. but then, suddenly, you're frowning, "don't you have class, like, right now, babe?"

nanami squeezes his eyes shut, amber lashes kissing peach-flushed skin. "yeah, had some tutorial," he groans, drawing his cock out of you almost entirely before he's snapping his hips back into you with such force that there's a resounding smack reverberating through his bedroom, "but heh, they don't really need me there. i already know all my shit."

"and you won't get in, i don't know, trouble?"

your boyfriend shakes his head, pushing aside the stack of stock market magazines littered near your head, so he can slam his hand down on the soft quilt. all so nanami can steady himself as he has only one purpose in mind, to make you cum. to make you see such stars of pleasure that you squirt all over his cock. and he can already picture your fucked-out form, hazy and littered with the marks of his loving. and drenched down below.

well, anatomically, it mustn't be possible but at the mere vision, nanami can feel himself harden even more. like his cock is responding to the hypnotising grip that you've got him in. hefty balls tightening further and he's rasping in your ear, "can i —, fuck, can i cum in ya', darling?" desperate and falling apart at the mere idea, at the way your eyes flutter shut in bliss, "only if yer' also wanting me to, i swear. but please –"

"yeah. in me, kento. baby, all yours."

that's all it really takes for thick, stringy wads of hot release to spurt out from nanami's weeping tip. cock releasing strands of gooey seed into your cunt in a way that makes your boyfriend press his forehead against yours, littering a thousand kisses against your fucked-out, smiling lips, "thank you, thank you, thank you, darling. i love you so much. can't even put it into words, but i love you —"

﹙ 伏黒 甚爾 : toji fushiguro ﹚ ─ physical education, kinesiology

"what the fuck did you jus' call me, ma?" toji's got a blunt nail trailing down your spine, running over the curve of your ass, "a nerd?"

you're writhing, "yeah, yeah. i mean, that's what everyone says," and it takes every cell in your body to fight back the inevitable release that toji's bestowing upon you. for you're determined to delay this just a little longer, to feel toji's thick cock slam into you from behind over and over in a way that you never really expected from the grumpy sports major.

and it seems the idea amuses him, for you don't even need to turn around to imagine how his sharp, jade-green eyes must be narrowing at the knowledge of what everyone calls toji fushiguro behind his back. how toji's sharp, shark-like grin must be widening, sharpening knives to sink into your shoulder, "why? 'cause i don't do that stupid, attention-seeking sports shit like everyone else in my degree? 'cause i don't wanna' waste my time on the field or in the locker rooms?"

"t-toji, it's 'cause you always got your damn nose in a book. and i didn't even know you could —," you shriek, feeling his burly forearm come up in front of you, past your bouncing breasts to support your weight as he presses further into you, "i honestly didn't even know you could fuckin' read."

"suchhh a nasty attitude, ma," toji chuckles, and your ass pleasurably stings at the resounding smacks echoing through the (thankfully) empty gymnasium. your lace panties pulled to the sides as you're balanced over the bleachers right in the very corner where the lonesome toji fushiguro prefers to sit, where no one else can bother him.

but damn, if he's not getting off on the idea of taking you so prettily like this. don't get him wrong, toji loves this position. loves how nasty and filthy your pretty arch is when he's swabbing his cock against your pussy. but fuck, he also wishes you were flipped around for him. just so he could press a thumb to your lower lip, and watch your eyes go all silly and crossed for him. while he tacked the thick curl of dark hair around his groin to your sticky, throbbing clit. battered your pretty cunt with his inches until that feisty lil' attitude melted away into sugar and cream.

you moan, such a wanton sound, when toji's thick fingers are climbing up your throat. past your jaw to settle at your mouth. pushing past your lip so you can drool so beautifully for him as he does his level best to at least regretfully silence the sexy sounds falling out of your lips.

"careful, ma," toji shudders, feeling the tight heat of your cunt snatch his soul away, "wanna' keep the volume down so those rocks-for-brains football players don't hear what's going on here. unless, you want them to see how the nerd's practically plowing your brains out, hah."

the resulting clench of your cunt tells toji all that he needs to know, and he has to bite back the furious blush crawling over him, underneath his faded varsity jacket, "oh? that's how it is? well, okay then. hold on."

﹙ 脹相 : choso kamo ﹚ ─ lab medicine, psychology

you know better than to sass choso when he's like this, the night before the final semester exam. see, because the man's got your thighs splayed so prettily out for him. glistening, and dripping all over his bedspread. and to the side, he's got that damn anatomy textbook flipped open.

choso's frustrated, sighing and flicking the pads of his fingers against his tongue to thumb at the sticking pages. rolling his eyes when he isn't able to find the passage that he wants, as if that's your fault. but you don't miss the hungry gleam in the raven-haired man's eyes, the spiky knots atop his head coming loose as he delves right back into his favourite meal. his favourite study snack being your glossy cunt, for he could munch on the slick strands forever.

"bear with me, my love," choso's cooing, trailing a slender, pale finger up your sticky folds until he comes to rest at your clit. tapping the throbbing bud once, "jus' gotta' memorise this, and you're helping me so much."

he's pressing a chaste, quaint kiss to your pulsing clit. that dark mark stretched across his face twitching as he murmurs, "ah, think, choso! right, the clitoral glans has, hmm, 8000 nerve endings. and it leads up to..." choso's drawing slow, teasing circles on your clit and it makes you whine, bucking your hips, "patience, my love. i'll reward you extra special for helpin' me out like this. now, it leads up to the clitoral shaft — and did i tell ya' what the crura is?"

you shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut as you rut against choso's handsome nose for some delicious friction, and he clearly seems eager to indulge you, though he's still lost in academic thought, "right. i guess, baby, you could say the crura are kinda' like the legs for the clitoris. and they extend allll along the pelvic bones."

choso's marvelling the glossy, sheer slick coating his fingers. licking a flat stripe right against your swollen, eager cunt, "and the glans, well, my extended answer needs to mention how they, uh, damn, baby. you're soaked." he's shaking his head again, "i keep getting distracted. the glans — they're the ones with the alpha-delta, and c-fibres, and that's what makes you feel so good. transmitting sensations y'see, i get extra marks for mentioning that."

you hazard a glance to the shining pages of the new textbook that choso's kept on his shelf all semester, "and the, uh, the pudendal reflex? you got a sticky note on that one, babe?"

choso smiles, slowly flicking your clitoral hood in up and down motions, each movement sending simmering pleasure through your groin, "a spinal reflex, m'love. helps with the involuntary muscle contractions, like when i do this —," flatting the pad of his thumb against your clit to run tighter circles against the aching nub, watching as your hips jolt up further against his face. coating the lower half of his features in translucent arousal.

"now, my favourite part," choso says, grinning as he turns his attentions elsewhere, to your dripping entrance pooling such a mess over his sheets. and your boyfriend's tugging at his grey sweatpants, "the grafenberg spot. i don't think my fingers will be enough to stimulate it properly."

[mantis-lizbian]

yeah, to go back to the bar analogy for some of the post-bar-analogy discussion: the bar itself isn't queer, but you might organize a drag show at it for a night. still doesn't make the bar itself queer beyond that one night and the effort you put into making it so.

D&D is the Taylor Swift of TTRPGs by which I mean it's something with broad mainstream appeal and name recognition and also there are people out there who pretend it's gay

[mangooes]

4 AM habits

The mansion was always silent at night, save for the distant ticking of the grandfather clock in the living room. Sylus knew this silence well—it was the sound of the world before chaos awakened. From 12 AM to 4 AM, he became the feared leader of Onychinus, ruler of the N109 Zone, overseeing the dark underbelly of the city.

But ever since he married his beloved, his nights ended differently.

She always went to bed before he left, just as he made sure she did. He would tuck her in, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead, whispering nothing short of sweet dreams, before vanishing into the night. Yet, no matter how quiet he was upon returning, he always found her waiting for him.

She never waited in their bed.

Instead, she sat on the staircase, facing the front door, curled up with a pillow in hand. Some nights, she sat there half-asleep, blinking drowsily at the entrance. Other nights, when he was later than usual, she had already slumped against the railing, fast asleep.

Tonight was no different.

As Sylus pushed open the doors of the mansion, his crimson gaze immediately landed on her delicate figure. Her body curled into itself, her breathing slow, her slippers slightly askew. She must have sat there for a while, waiting.

His heart clenched.

With practiced ease and a shake of his head, Sylus stepped forward and scooped her up into his arms, lifting her effortlessly. She stirred slightly but did not wake.

"You stubborn little kitten..." he murmured against her temple, his voice thick with affection. One arm secured around her, the other reached for her slippers, carrying them as if they were just as precious.

He carried her back to their bedroom, cradling her against his chest. As he gently placed her on the bed, she shifted, instinctively reaching for him, burying her face into his warmth.

Sylus exhaled, brushing a stray curl from her face before pressing a lingering kiss to her lips, then her forehead, then her fingers.

His voice softened to a whisper, words meant only for her, even in sleep.

"Sweetie… you really don’t have to wait for me."

And yet, she always did.

Here you go! another one from my drafts akjdnkjasd, this was acctually from my mc's real hc i just made it to a short fic, because we love soft soft softie sylus!

[theaskew]

Amy Bessone (American, b. 1970, lives and works in Los Angeles), J1.3, 2015. Ceramic 25.5 x 18 x 15 in | 64.8 x 45.7 x 38.1 cm.