#Recognized art master of today

[latenightdaydreams]

The Chair (fem)

Poll story!

MDNI🔞

Master List

>cw: fem/afab, mentions of cheating, p in v, oral, cucking, dirty talk

3.3k word count

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After three years of marriage, you found out that your husband, Hugo, has been having an affair for the last two years. He completely broke your heart. Trust was something you struggled to build, and he just completely shattered yours. After only three months of therapy, Hugo comes to you with the idea of making things ‘even’ between the two of you; allowing you to cuck him.

Hugo only made you even angrier when he said this to you. You’ve never thought about having sex with another man before. For one, your self-esteem was so low now. You love Hugo, you’ll never see another man in the same way as you see Hugo- so you thought.

It’s Saturday; you’re dressed in a simple white dress that clung to your shape. Hugo was invited to his best friend’s brother’s homecoming and took you with him. He quickly left your side at the party to go mingle with his friends, making you feel rejected. You make your way to the kitchen where it’s quiet, leaning back against the counter and looking out the window.

König sees you by yourself, so he approaches you. The way your dress clings to you catches his eyes immediately. He walks into the kitchen and opens the fridge, grabbing two beers. With one hand stretched out handing you a beer, his mask hides his expression.

“Hallo, I don’t think we’ve been introduced.” His Austrian accent piques your interest.

“Oh, thank you.” You grab the beer. “I’m y/n.”

“Pleasure to meet you. I’m König.”

Your eyes go wide and you smile as you realize this is who everyone is waiting for. “Oh, everyone is outside waiting for you.”

“I know, I’m avoiding the crowd for as long as I can.” He chuckles as his eyes openly trail down your body. “Who are you here with?”

“Hugo—”

“Jakobs friends?”

“Yeah.”

“Who would have thought little Hugo could pull someone like you?”

A smile pulls across your lips as you let out a soft giggle. König stands at 6’10 while Hugo stands at 5’8. He chuckles with you as he steps closer to you. Just then, the sliding back doors open. It’s Hugo with Jakob.

“König!” Jakob excitedly rushes to his brother.

Hugo’s smile slowly fades away as he eyes you and König, seeing how close you two were just standing. You gazed up at him with bright eyes, the same as you used to look at Hugo with. His heart skins to his stomach.

König turns to see Hugo, his eyes dead as he glares at him. König wants his wife. Craved his wife. He’s going to have her.

A few weeks pass. König has added you on all social media. Today, while at the gym, he sent you a gym selfie. He’s shirtless and flexing. His body is riddled with scars, sculpted like a piece of art. König’s blonde hair covers part of his face, your eyes glued to the dark blonde hair that trails from his belly button down.

As you inspect the photo, you close your legs and press them together. Hugo see’s your movement and recognizes it as you being aroused. He smirks.

“What are you reading?” He stands and walks to you, assuming that you’re reading smut. As he gets closer, he sees you quickly close what looked like a man’s photo.

“Nothing.” You stand and walk away to the bedroom.

While there was a feeling nagging at him, he let it go. The sex life between the both of you is basically nonexistent since the affair came to light. He figured it was simply porn. The conversation that comes next, he wasn’t expecting.

You both sat at the dinner table, pushing your food around with your fork as you contemplated your next words. Hugo notices that you’re lost in thought. He clears his throat and sits up.

“Um, are you okay babe?”

“Hm? Yeah.” You place the fork down on your plate. “I want to talk.”

“Okay.” Hugo can feel his heart beginning to sink.

“Do you remember when you offered me the option to have sex with someone else? Cucking?”

Swallowing hard, Hugo nods with a look of dread on his face. Please don’t let it be König.

“I want to take you up on that offer.” You look up, making direct eye contact with him.

Hugo shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “Do you know who?” He picks up his glass of water, taking a big gulp.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Who?”

“König.”

Hugo leans back in his chair and rubs his hands over his face as he lets out a deep breath. “König?” He leans forward, arms coming down hard on the table. “What makes you think he would even like you?”

His insecurities begin to show through his words and body language. He holds himself like an injured boy. As if the simple mention of König killed his ego.

“He’s told me.” You look at him with a new found confidence.

“He told you? When?”

“We’ve been talking.”

“How?” Hugo’s eyes widened.

“Social media and texting.”

Hugo stands, combing his fingers through his hair. This can’t be happening. Not with König. “For how long?”

“Since the party.” You watch him pace back and forth.

“Have you seen him?” He stops and looks at you with pleading eyes.

“Only for lunch.” You admit.

“Only for lunch.” He repeats, shaking his head, dropping it to look at the floor.

“He said he’s free Friday night.”

Hugo slowly looks back up at you in disbelief.

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Friday night, you have fresh sheets on your bed, a bottle of wine, three wine glasses, and a chair in front of the bed. You’re dressed in a short silk negligee, the deep blue color complimenting your skin tone perfectly.

Hugo looks at you. He never thought he’d be sharing you with someone. Then he thinks about the pain he causes you over the past two years. The doorbell ringing pulls him out of his thoughts. He walks forward towards the door and opens it to see König without his mask on. His face is covered in scars, but he’s still a handsome man. Hugo always felt inferior to König, being over a foot shorter than him.

“Hallo, Hugo.” König smiles and walks past him into your home.

König’s eyes fall on you, the way your little negligee hugs your body; it’s like you’re a gift for him to open.

“Hallo, Liebling.” He walks to you and hugs your body tightly. “You look magnificent.”

“Thank you.” There is a cheerful giggle in your voice. It sickens Hugo. Your small hand slips into König’s. “Follow me.”

Hugo watched you lead König upstairs towards your shared bedroom. He followed reluctantly. He knows you’re going up with or without him.

You enter the bedroom with König. As you go to open the wine bottle, König gently swoops in and takes the bottle from you.

“I’ve got this.” He opens the bottle for you, his muscles flexing under his tight black shirt as he does so.

König pours wine into each glass, a little extra into the third. He hands you one, then turns to Hugo and hands him the fuller one. A little smirk on his lips as he looks down on Hugo. “Here go, a little extra for you to relax.”

You take a large drink of your wine and place it on the bedside table. König’s eyes travel up your legs to your plump ass, the way it sways as you move. He places his glass down alongside yours. His large hands wrap around your waist and hold you in a firm grasp.

König leans his body down, his lips pressing into yours passionately. You quickly reciprocate, your lips parting slightly to lick his lips, causing König to chuckle, “Eager little one, aren’t you?” He grabs you by your thighs and lifts you in his arms.

“You may want to take a seat now.” König turns to Hugo as he holds you in his arms.

Hugo looks at you in König’s arms as he holds you. You look like Aphrodite in Ares's arms. He saunters to the seat in front of the bed and sits, wine in hand. There is nothing else to do but to watch you with him.

König gently lays you down on the bed, his lips clashing against yours as your tongue twirls around one another’s. Slowly his lips leave yours and trail down your neck, drawing small sighs of pleasure from your mouth. One hand comes up and squeezes your breast gently, his fingers coming around your nipple and lightly pinching. A small moan leaves your lips, followed by a nervous giggle.

He backs up to see you with a warm smile, leaning down to kiss your lips again. Hugo sat, watching the chemistry shared between the two of you, and it makes him feel sick. This is suppose to be a fuck, not…whatever this is.

König stands upright and undresses. He pulls his shirt off to expose the body you’ve only ever seen in photos, in person. Your eyes roam up and down his body. He is stunning. The black shirt he had on is tossed to the edge of the bed. His hands undo his belt buckle. You sit up to help him, your lips pressing against the warm skin of his chest.

A deep sigh leaves König’s lips as he combs his fingers through your hair, your gentle kisses sending a chill throughout his body. Once his pants are undone, he pulls his pants down, kicking them off to the side. His enormous erection is pressing up against the fabric of his boxer briefs, his cock so big his tip sticks out the waistband of his underwear.

Hugo’s eyes travel up and down König’s body. He feels his anxiety spike, taking a big drink of his wine. The way you touch him, it’s as if you’ve been thinking about this for a while. You’re enjoying his body. His eyes follow your hand, go to his cock and grasp it through his underwear. König’s hands on your jaw, holding your face to him as he kisses you passionately.

You grab König’s hands and move them, kissing down his chest again until your lips reach the bit of cock sticking out. Your tongue licks over the tip, scooping up a dab of pre-cum that has come to the surface. König looks down at you as you pull down his boxer briefs, your warm wet mouth slowly wrapping around his cock.

König lets out a loud groan as he gazes down at you. He looks over to Hugo with a smile before wrapping some of your hair around his head and guiding your mouth down the shaft of his cock. You eagerly accept his cock, taking in as much as you can as you suck.

Hugo shifts in his seat uncomfortably. Even if he turns away, it doesn’t help. The sound of his cock fucking your mouth consumes the room. You gaze over at Hugo shifting uncomfortably and it made you feel happy to see. Slowly pulling your head off his cock, eyes gazing up at him.

“Let’s take this off of you.” König whispers as he moves back slightly to pull your negligee off. You lift your hands above your head and to assist him. He steps back more to see your bare breasts and the small blue thong that covers your precious little cunt.

Hugo feels sick watching König look at your body. He looks at you the same way a dog would look at a piece of meat. He’s hungry for you like Hugo has never been.

“Look at this body…you look like a work of art, Liebling.” König grabs your body and pulls you back onto the bed more.

Your head rests on your pillow as König crawls over your body. His lips meet yours as one hand explores. One caresses your cheeks, the other plays with your nipples between his fingers before moving down more to your pussy, his fingers rubbing the thin fabric. He can feel how wet you are for him and it drives him wild.

His fingers hook into the fabric of your thong and pull it down slowly. Your creamy pussy comes into view as he sees the mess you made in your underwear. “Beautiful.” He whispers to himself. Without looking back, he tosses your thong behind him. It lands on Hugo’s lap, causing him to just look at it before looking back up at you.

Hugo watches as König spreads your legs with his knees, getting his body comfortable between your legs. König’s cock rubbing up and down along your folds, relishing the wet heat. The view Hugo has, he watches as he slips his cock into your pussy. Your legs instantly tensing around König’s body. A loud moan leaves your lips as he sees König’s balls press against your ass, burying himself deep inside of your cunt.

König pulls his hips back before slamming them down into you again, watching as you jerk forward and your eyes flutter. Your fingernails are digging into his forearms as you try to hold on to him.

“Please…” You whimper.

“Please?” König teases, licking from your chin to your lips.

“Fuck me…”

König looks to his side and grabs a pillow, tossing it on the side of the bed. Without withdrawing his cock, he lifts your body and turns you. “So, Hugo can get a better view of that beautiful face with I make you cum.”

Hugo has no reaction but to glare at König. In that moment his mind begins to flash back to all the moment’s he has ever spent with König. He never thought he would be in this situation with him.

König lifts one of your legs to be over his shoulder, the other he pushes off the bed. Your foot falling on Hugo’s lap. König pulls out slightly as there are streaks of your creamy arousal up and down his cock.

“Look at that, your wife has a beautiful pussy.” König makes eye contact with Hugo before looking down at you. He grasps your breast as he fucks you.  His hips roll into you desperate to bury himself deeply into you.

Hugo can’t help but to get an erection as he watches König stretch you beyond anything he could imagine. Your face contorted into a pleasurable high, you don’t even look in his direction; as if he wasn’t even there.

“Oh my god König…” You mewl, lifting your head to look at your vagina and watch him fuck you.

“Your pussy is fucking…heavenly.” König growls.

“I love your cock.”

Hugo feels his heart drop and a pang of jealousy flare deep within. Especially when König begins to taunt him. He pulls his cock out, grabbing your effortlessly as if you were a doll. He moves the pillow too, placing you over it, lifting your ass to him.

You are now face to face with Hugo, König begins bullying his cock back into you. He grabs your waist and holds you, watching your ass bounce off of his hips as he bucks forward into you. Intertwining a handful of your hair between his fingers, he pulls your head back and makes you look at Hugo.

“Say it again, Liebling.”

“Please…” You whimper pathetically needing him to fuck you harder.

“Nein, the other thing.”

“I love your cock, König.” You moan out as you look into Hugo’s eyes. You can see the discomfort and pain he feels; you can truly careless. “Please fuck me!”

“Such a good girl!” He slaps your ass, continuing to hold your head up as he fucks you harder.

Your mouth drops open as you forget words and just babble sounds of pleasure. Hugo watches as your eyes flutter back. Reaction’s he’s never gotten out of you before. “König please!”

“Look at your husband and beg.” He growls pulling your hair harder.

“Please make me cum! Please!”

“More. Beg for another man’s cock!”

“Please! I want to cum on your cock!”

You look Hugo right in the eyes as you tremble on König’s cock. “Fuck…”

König pulls his cock out quickly and drops to his stomach between your legs. His tongue presses flat against your folds and licks up, tasting your cunt finally. His tongue lapping at your clit, causing your legs to twitch with every pass.

“I don’t know how you don’t eat this pussy every day.” König makes the comment to Hugo. “Maybe I should come over and do it for you.”

You moan and run your fingers through his hair, looking down at his pink tongue parting your folds to drink you in. If you could have König over everyday for this, you really would.

“Too bad you ship out again soon.” Hugo says in a snarky tone, reminding you both of the temporary bliss.

“Watch it, I can bring a spouse to base with me.” König makes eye contact with you as his wet lips kiss your pussy’s fat mound, biting it gently. You caress his face; he moves up to kiss your lips. Your tongue pushes out to taste yourself along his hips. König lets out a small moan; trailing his hands up and down your body, grabbing your waist and kissing you lustfully.

For a moment, you both forgot Hugo was even there. König pulls away from the kiss, letting his hand trail down your body before grabbing you and sitting you on his lap. Your back is on his chest as he drapes your legs over his muscular long legs. He scoots the edge of the bed, uncomfortably close for Hugo’s liking.

Hugo adjusts himself in his pants as he watches König grab his cock and slowly thrust up, showing it into you. He watches as your lips spread and wrap tightly around him. König wraps his arms under each of your knees and pins his hands back behind your head, holding you in the Full Nelson position.

You’re folded in half as König uses you as a flesh light. Ramming his cock rapidly into your messy wet cunt. König’s muscular legs flex with every thrust.

“Whose cock is better?” König’s voice is a low growl as he speaks.

Eye’s locked with Hugos, “Your cock König.”

Hugo looks away, still forced to hear you repeat over and over that you love König’s cock better. König’s humongous 10-inch cock over Hugo’s average 5.5-inch cock. Of course you liked his better. The way you look like you’re in a different world with every thrust, he already knew.

König can’t hold back any longer. Your little cunt is the first he’s had in four years and he’s done his best to not cum too fast. The sounds of your beautiful moans, the feel of your lovely pussy…he can’t.

“Beg for my cum, Liebling.”

“Please cum in my tight pussy.”

Hugo sits at the edge of his seat, about to speak up. You both agreed to not let him cum in you. He’s not supposed to risk getting you pregnant. It’s bad enough he’s fucking you completely raw, which you said you wouldn’t let happen.

“Fuck, I’m cumming.” König pants.

“Yes!”

Hugo watches König’s heavy balls tighten as they drain deep inside of his wife’s pussy. His cock throbs as soft moans leave his lips.

König lifts you up, letting his cock pop out of your pussy. His white cum drips out of your stretched hold. Hugo just sits and watches it drip out.

“Want to taste it?” You rub your clit teasing Hugo.

He just looks into your eyes with a serious look, a look of pain. “No.” His voice cracks slightly.

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The next morning, you wake up with a pep in your step. Your skin is glowing and a wide smile is spread across your lips. As you pour yourself a cup of coffee Hugo sits at the kitchen table, watching you. He feels sick, but at least the ‘payback’ is over, he thinks.

You sit and sip your coffee, looking at your phone. König snaps you a photo of his hard cock with the text saying, “I dreamt of you all night.”

“I can’t wait to see you again.”

“When does Hugo leave for work?”

“Come over in an hour.”

[thewulf]

Starlit Promises || Legolas

Summary: Request - Heyy I really like how you write Legolas and also your writing in general so I thought I'd request a Legolas x reader where in reader saves him from an orc attack and got hurt in the process. Hehe that's all have a good day!

A/N: Ahhh I really like this one. Ty Anon for the amazing request as always.

Pairing: Legolas x Elf Female Reader

Word Count: 4.2k +

TW: Orcs, attack, shot with an arrow, poison, angst, sad Legolas

Growing up in the lush, enigmatic depths of Mirkwood had shaped you into the warrior you are today. Side by side with Legolas you had spent countless hours under the tutelage of the same masters learning the arts of combat and stealth. Though your paths within the kingdom's defense forces eventually diverged with Legolas rising to accompany his father on diplomatic missions and you embedding deeper into the scout units you never lost the connection forged in those formative years.

Your friendship with Legolas was based on a foundation of deep respect and a shared love for the vast, mysterious woodland that was your home. Over the years, King Thranduil himself had come to hold you in high regard as he appreciated how you continually challenged and supported his son. Making sure to keep him grounded and focused.

After many seasons apart, duty finally brought you back together. It was a reunion marked by warm smiles and a quick rekindling of your lifelong friendship. Eager to make the most of this reunion you both decided to embark on a patrol through some of the darker much less traveled parts of Mirkwood. These regions were where the trees grew dense, and the shadows lingered. They were known for being unpredictable, yet they offered a serene beauty that was unmatched elsewhere in the kingdom.

As you walked alongside Legolas, your steps silent and your senses alert, you found comfort in the familiar presence of your friend. The air was filled with the sounds of distant waterfalls and the occasional call of a wood pigeon. Conversation flowed easily between you. It was filled with stories of past exploits and shared adventures. It was as if no time had passed at all, and you were just two young elves exploring the woods as you had all those hundreds of years ago.

Yet, the peace of the forest was deceptive and as seasoned warriors both of you remained vigilant. It was a routine patrol on the surface but in Mirkwood with the darkness ever growing one could never be too careful. Little did you know the shadows held more than just the whispers of ancient trees that day.

In the shadow-drenched depths of Mirkwood where the dense canopy stifled even the slightest beam of sunlight you and Legolas moved with the silent grace of seasoned warriors. The forest's deceptive calm should have been your first warning, but you were so engrossed in his presence you didn’t think too much of it. It was a heavy stillness that shrouded the advance of danger. It was in this eerie silence that the ambush was sprung as a large band of orcs burst from their hidden positions among the twisted undergrowth.

In the midst of the intense and chaotic battle with the clash of metal resounding through the ancient trees of Mirkwood a sudden, jarring sound made your heart skip a beat. It was the distinct twang of a bowstring. A sound you’d recognize anywhere amidst the close-quarters combat that it sent a ripple of alarm through you.

You and Legolas were back-to-back and fighting in seamless coordination Legolas's breath hitched audibly, a rare sign of his alarm. His voice was urgent and tinged with a touch of panic as it reached your ears over the din of battle.

"Y/N, the leader, he's aiming for—"

Before he could finish you saw the movement. A shadowy figure at a distance with a notched arrow gleaming with a sinister sheen that could only mean poison. Time seemed to slow as you realized the target was none other than Legolas himself.

With a surge of adrenaline, you acted on pure instinct. "Legolas, down!" you shouted pushing him towards the ground even as you leaped to intercept the flight path of the arrow.

Legolas who was forced down by your push hit the forest floor hard. He turned just in time to see your actions. "No, Y/N!" His voice was laced with horror and desperation as he realized what you were about to do.

The arrow struck and the sound of your grunt of pain was drowned out by Legolas's anguished yell. He scrambled to his feet eyes wide with a mixture of fear and fury. "Why would you do this?" he bellowed. His voice cracking with a mix of horror and desperation. His eyes were wide with shock and nearing tears. They searched yours for an answer he could not find in the chaos of his own emotions.

As you staggered from the impact the world began to blur at the edges as the poison was already coursing through your veins. With what strength you had left you managed to whisper, trying to reassure him despite the growing darkness clouding your vision. "Had to... save you. Watch out... he has more..."

Legolas was now beside himself with worry and rage. He turned his attention back to the orc leader with a fierce glare. His usual calm demeanor was shattered by the sight of you injured because of him. He drew his own arrow with a swift, deadly precision that was uncharacteristic but fueled by his tumultuous emotions. "No one harms you and escapes unscathed," he murmured almost to himself as he prepared to return the favor with lethal intent.

What followed was a blur of motion and violence. Legolas moved like a tempest. His arrows finding their marks with lethal precision. Each strike was a blow against his own anguish, a defiance of the fate that had struck you down. The orcs fell one by one. They were no match for the wrath of a prince fighting for the life of a friend he so dearly loved.

As the last of the orcs crumpled to the forest floor, silenced forever, Legolas turned back to where you lay, your face pale and your breaths shallow. He knelt beside you, his hands shaking as he gently lifted you into his arms. The forest seemed to hold its breath. The usual whispers of the leaves stilled by the gravity of the moment.

Legolas's steps were swift and sure as he began the urgent journey back to the healers. Each step was a race against the relentless creep of the poison within you. As he moved with his arms secure around you he began to whisper. His voice a soft contrast to the earlier fury that had consumed him.

"Stay with me," he murmured. His words tinged with a desperation he had never known. "You must stay with me." His voice broke as the reality of the situation pressed upon him. The weight of his emotions threatening to overwhelm his stoic facade.

The forest blurred past as Legolas with you cradled securely in his arms. He pushed through the undergrowth with an urgency born of sheer desperation. The poison from the orc’s arrow was relentless and with each labored breath you took his heart clenched tighter.

As he hurried his voice was a steady stream of encouragement meant to fortify both your spirits and his own resolve. “You’re so strong. You can fight this,” he urged quietly. His tone gentle yet firm. The dense foliage seemed to part before his determination. The shadows of Mirkwood bending to his will.

“You have to hold on. I need you to hold on,” he continued. His voice only for you. A personal warmth amidst the encroaching darkness of your pain. His words were a lifeline thrown in the hope that your spirit would grasp it and cling to life.

Within his mind a storm of thoughts raged. As he looked down at your face contorted with the effort to stay conscious he was struck by a revelation so profound it rooted itself deep within his soul. I love her, he realized with startling clarity. The thought was both a balm and a torment emerging amidst the terror of possibly losing you. Why did it take the brink of losing her to see how vital she is to me? His heart ached with the weight of his newfound understanding. An understanding that came at such a cruel cost.

Meanwhile, you, despite the searing pain, felt the urgency in his voice and it gave you a focus. A point to anchor your fading strength. You tried to respond. To give him some sign that you heard him. That you were fighting not just for your own life, but for him, for the future you hadn't yet considered might be possible together. Your lips moved slightly as a whisper of sound that was more an exhale of pain than coherent words.

Legolas felt the faint stir of your attempt to speak and it spurred him on. His strides growing even more determined. “Just a little farther,” he promised you, and perhaps himself. “We’re almost there. Stay with me.”

His mind continued to race with thoughts of love and loss, but he kept these revelations locked within choosing instead to flood you with hopeful, encouraging words. Every step was a silent vow. Every heartbeat a silent plea to whatever fates watched over the elves of Mirkwood.

As the gates of the palace finally came into sighta surge of tentative relief washed over him. The guards recognized the dire nature of your condition and rushed to meet him calling for the healers swiftly. Legolas’s arms relinquished you with a reluctance that was palpable. His hands lingering until the last possible moment as he handed you over to their care.

Watching the guards swiftly carry you away Legolas could only stand there for a moment, alone and suddenly bereft. The depth of his emotions swirling chaotically within. Hold on, please hold on, he thought. His heart echoing each word of encouragement he had given you. Now a silent mantra for the both of you.

In the somber halls of the Mirkwood palace, Thranduil arrived, drawn by the urgent whispers of his guards about an incident involving his son and one of his most valued elves. As he entered his eyes found Legolas who stood alone. His posture betraying a mix of shock and despair rarely seen on the prince.

Approaching quietly Thranduil placed a hand on Legolas’s shoulder, his presence immediately steadying. "Legolas, tell me what has happened," he urged. His voice firm yet lined with concern.

Legolas's response was choked. A surge of emotions breaking through his usually composed demeanor. Turning to face his father, tears welled in his eye. It was a terribly rare sight that shook Thranduil to his core. "She... she saved me," Legolas stammered. The words laced with pain and guilt. "An orc aimed a poisoned arrow at me, and she stepped in front. She took the hit herself. It should have been me, Father."

The king's eyes widened in horror as he processed the gravity of the situation. His mind racing with the implications of your selfless act. "Legolas," Thranduil said softly as he guided his son to sit beside him on a nearby bench, an effort to offer comfort amidst the cold stone surroundings. "You must not blame yourself for her bravery. She acted out of loyalty and courage. These are qualities that are to be honored, not lamented."

Legolas wiped at his eyes, struggling to compose himself. "But I love her, Father. And now, I might lose her because I could not protect her," he confessed. The words tumbling out amidst sobs. The admission of his feelings which were spoken aloud for the first time seemed to both relieve and burden him further.

Thranduil was taken aback by the depth of his son’s emotions. He reached out, his own composure tinged with empathy. "My son, love is both a strength and a vulnerability. You must hold onto the hope that she will recover. And should she wake, it is your duty—and your right—to tell her of your feelings."

The king stood, resolute. "I will speak with the healers to ensure that everything possible is being done," he promised. Returning his attention to Legolas, he added, "Stay strong, Legolas. She fought to save you. Now you must be strong for her."

Thranduil placed a reassuring hand on Legolas's shoulder. His gaze intense and commanding. "There is something you can do, Legolas. Go to her," he instructed firmly. "The healers say that even in unconsciousness the presence of someone familiar may be felt. Your presence could provide the strength she needs to fight this poison."

Legolas looked at his father. The determination in Thranduil's voice sparking a flicker of hope within him. "Talk to her, hold her hand, let her feel your presence. Keep her grounded to this world. Your voice, your touch… it may reach her when our medicine cannot."

Rising from the bench with renewed purpose Legolas nodded solemnly. "I will not leave her side," he vowed. The resolve in his voice masking the tremor of his underlying fear.

Thranduil watched as his son strode towards the healers quarters. His posture that of a prince, yet driven by the raw, powerful emotions of an elf in love. "She saved you for a reason, Legolas. Now, give her a reason to return," Thranduil murmured to himself as he watched Legolas disappear behind the delicate curtains that shrouded the healing chambers.

Inside, Legolas approached your side with his heart pounding as he took in your serene yet pained expression. Gingerly, he took your hand in his. The coolness of your skin against his warm palm stirring a mix of emotions within him. Sitting beside you he began to speak his voice soft but clear threading through the quiet hum of the healing ward.

"I'm here just like you've always been there for me. Remember the storms we weathered together? The quiet moments we shared under the stars of our beautiful Mirkwood? Hold onto those memories now as I hold onto your hand. You must come back to us, to me," Legolas whispered. His words a tender plea laced with strength and love.

As he continued to speak he recounted tales of their past adventures and shared dreams. Legolas's presence became a silent, steadfast hope, anchoring you in the fight against the darkness that threatened to claim you.

"Remember the time we chased the fireflies at dusk?" Legolas continued. His voice a soft murmur meant only for you. "We wandered so far that night we almost missed the evening banquet. Your laughter echoed through the woods, brighter even than the lights we chased. I think that was the moment I realized how dear you were to me though I never had the courage to say it. I wish I said it."

He paused. His thumb gently stroking the back of your hand, each memory a pull trying to guide you back. "And then there was the storm. The one that caught us off guard near the northern border. We took shelter under that old oak. The one that's stood for a thousand years. You were so calm, so brave, even as the thunder roared around us. It was more than bravery. It was a peace within you that even the storm couldn't disturb. I truly fell in love with you then."

His voice grew softer, each word laden with emotion. "I've always admired that about you—your strength, your serenity. It's been a constant source of comfort to me, more often than you know." A sigh escaped him, a mixture of admiration and deep-seated fear. "I need that strength now, more than ever. You have to fight through this. I... I can't envision a world without you in it mellon vaer nîn, meleth nîn." He whispered to you.

Legolas's gaze lingered on your face. His eyes tracing the familiar features as if trying to imprint them deeper into his memory. "There are so many things I still want to share with you. The sunrise over the Silverlode. Quiet mornings in the glades. So many adventures yet to be had. I need you to come back to me."

As he continued to speak recalling tales of their past his voice became your lifeline, tethered to the hope of your recovery. With each story he tried to weave you back to consciousness. To draw you away from the shadows that clung too closely.

Hours passed, a silent vigil marked only by the rhythm of his voice and the faint but steady beat of your heart. It was during one such tale as Legolas recounted a particularly daring escapade from their youth that he felt a gentle squeeze on his hand. It was slight, nearly imperceptible, but to Legolas, it was as profound as the sun breaking through a week of rain.

His heart leapt and his words faltered for a moment. "Are you there? Can you hear me?" he asked. His voice a blend of hope and urgency. When there was no further response he settled back with a small, hopeful smile touching his lips. "I'll keep talking… just keep listening. You're not alone." Legolas's resolve hardened, bolstered by the faint sign of your fighting spirit. He continued to talk. Each word a pledge of his presence and protection. His stories a bridge carrying you back from the brink.

The healing ward was bathed in the soft, ethereal light of dawn filtering through the high windows. Legolas sat steadfast by your side with his hand still holding yours as a silent anchor in the hushed space. He continued to speak with his voice a soft, continuous presence in the hushed space continuously recounting tales, and shared dreams. He was weaving a tapestry of memories meant to guide you back.

As he recounted a particularly fond memory of a midsummer festival where you both had danced under the stars until the world seemed nothing more than a swirl of lights and laughter your eyelids began to flutter. It was a slight movement but enough to pause the flow of his words.

Your eyes slowly opened as they adjusted to the dim light of the room, focusing with effort on the figure who had not left your side. Legolas watched you carefully. His breath held in a mixture of hope and anxiety. Seeing your eyes finally meet his, a wave of relief and joy washed over him, though he tempered his reaction. The last thing he wanted was to overwhelm you.

"You're awake," he said softly. His voice a mix of wonder and warmth, his grip on your hand tightening gently.

You managed a weak smile. Your voice barely a whisper but filled with gratitude and warmth. "Legolas..." you breathed, your eyes locking onto his conveying everything you felt but couldn't yet say.

He leaned closer with his forehead nearly touching yours. His eyes were bright with emotion. "You are home," he whispered as his voice trembled slightly. "You're here with me. That is all that matters."

You nodded weakly, your smile widening just a bit. "Home," you agreed softly, the word holding so much more than its simple meaning. It was a promise, a recognition of the bond that had brought you back from the brink.

Legolas brushed a stray lock of hair from your forehead. His touch ever so gentle and reverent. "I was so afraid of losing you," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "Your bravery, your sacrifice... I cannot bear the thought of a world without you in it."

Your hand squeezed his lightly. A small gesture but one that conveyed strength and reassurance. "I'm here," you whispered back, the effort taxing but necessary. "And I'm not going anywhere."

"We have so much more to see together. So many more memories to share," Legolas continued with a smile playing on his lips. "I promise from now on every moment will be a testament to the life you fought so hard to return to."

Your smile widened a bit more, your energy still faint but growing with every moment of connection. "I wouldn’t miss it for the world," you replied. Your voice was stronger this time, filled with the promise of many tomorrows.

In that quiet evening with the last light painting the world in hues of pink and gold, Legolas and you shared a moment of profound gratitude and love. A bond deepened by trials and now unbreakable by anything that the future might hold.

As your strength slowly returned Legolas took you to a secluded glade one evening. A hidden sanctuary where the world's concerns seemed to dissolve under the brilliance of the starlit sky. The air was cool and carried the sweet scent of blooming night flowers. You both settled on a soft blanket surrounded by the tranquil whisper of the forest.

Looking up at the stars Legolas turned toward you, his blue eyes reflecting the celestial light. He took a deep breath as if preparing to share something significant, and then began to speak. His voice soft yet clear. "I've spent many nights under these stars," he said, "but none felt as profound as tonight, being here with you." He paused giving you a moment to absorb the words. "When you were hurt, when I thought I might lose you, I realized something vital. Just how much you mean to me, how deeply I care about you."

Your heart fluttered with a mixture of surprise and joy. The sincerity in his voice and the earnest look in his eyes it was all you had ever hoped for yet never dared to expect. "Legolas, I...," you started your emotions thickening your voice. "I've felt the same way for a long time. But I never thought—"

"That we might have a future together?" Legolas interjected gently. "I know. I've been a fool, letting time pass without speaking my heart. But I don't want to hide my feelings anymore. I love you. More than I can say."

Tears welled in your eyes but not from sadness but from a profound relief and happiness. "I love you too," you replied. Your voice a soft echo of his own declaration. "I always have."

Legolas reached out, brushing a tear from your cheek with a gentle touch. "Then let us make a promise tonight," he suggested. His gaze locked with yours, "to never hold back our feelings. To cherish each moment, we have together and to face whatever comes with unity and strength."

You nodded, feeling the weight and warmth of his hand in yours. "I promise," you said. "To all of that."

The night deepened around you, but in the glade, illuminated by starlight, a new chapter of your life together began. It was a promise made not just in words but in the shared glances, the gentle touches, and the quiet commitment to face life's complexities together. With Legolas by your side the future seemed not just a path to walk but a journey to cherish.

The next morning, with the promise of the previous night still fresh and luminous like the dawn Legolas sought his father in the tranquil palace gardens. Dappled sunlight filtered through the ancient trees casting golden patterns on the mossy floor.

"Father," Legolas began with his voice carrying a newfound confidence mixed with joy, "last night under the stars, Y/N and I made a promise. I wish to ask her to let me court her with the intention of marriage."

Thranduil paused with his gaze piercing as he turned to face his son. For a moment his expression was unreadable. Then, a wide, genuine smile transformed his face. "Finally," he exclaimed with a rare chuckle. "You have truly found your path, my son. It is about time."

Legolas smiled, a weight lifting from his shoulders with his father's blessing. Bolstered by this support he planned a special moment to formally begin the courtship. He chose a small, exquisite pendant shaped like a star. An echo of the night that had sealed your shared destiny.

Later that day as you stood in the lush Mirkwood gardens Legolas approached you. The late afternoon sun lit the clearing casting long shadows and bathing everything in a warm, golden glow. In his hand he held the delicate star-shaped pendant which sparkled as it caught the light.

"Y/N," he said gently, drawing your attention. His hand extended offering the pendant to you. "Last night, under the starlight, we promised to face whatever comes together. With all my heart, I ask you now, will you let me court you with the hope and intention that one day you will be my wife?"

The moment was overwhelming. More tears sprang to your eyes as the magnitude of what this meant filled you. You had loved Legolas for so long, sometimes fearing your affection was a solitary flame. Now hearing his heartfelt words, confirming that he felt the same, was a relief so profound that sobs of joy escaped you.

"Yes, Legolas," you managed to say between gentle sobs. Your voice thick with emotion as you reached out to take the pendant. "Yes, of course I will."

Legolas stepped closer. His eyes shining with the same emotion. He took the pendant and carefully clasped it around your neck. He cupped your face in his hands wiping away your tears with his thumbs.

"This is just the beginning meleth nîn," he whispered. His voice as tender as the touch of the evening breeze. "A promise of a lifetime together, filled with love and understanding."

In that enchanted moment with the beauty of Mirkwood surrounding you and the promise of a future together everything felt utterly perfect. The garden seemed to hold its breath, the leaves whispering in the wind, as if nature itself was acknowledging the depth of your bond. The journey ahead would indeed have challenges but with the strength of your love you knew you could face them with him.

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[tarjapearce]

Miguel's Pick up Lines

Just fluff and nerd talk✨

Flirting wasn't something he was good for, it wasn't etched in his dna. His pasts attempts in your early stage of relationship always ended up as awkward or in a laughing fit your way.

But far from making you uncomfortable, it always ended up in you kissing the daylights our of him, appreciating his effort to keep the spark alive.

Miguel wouldn't admit it, but he was practicing his own rizz. A term he internally chuckled every time Gabriella mentioned it.

He wanted to surprise you with his art de la séduction, cause in truth he missed your flustered expression. He needed to see that sweet and lovely face of yours going through so many emotions again.

It was one of those days he'd be stuck in the lab, mentoring the new employees in their induction to Alchemax's Research Department.

In his break, he took his phone and walked to a more private area to then video calling you.

It took the connection to stablish after a couple of rings, your face appearing in the lower corner of the screen with sweet smile and a couple of flour blotches on your face. Rosie on your hip.

"Say hi to Papa, Rosie."

Rosie blabbed while agitating the spoon

"She's gonna be a good chef." you smiled ad you wiped the flour off, "Everything alright, mi amor?"

"Yeah. I'm nearly done with the induction. Can't wait to go home."

He could hear Benjamin's excited squeals as he watched the TV and Gabriella helped with food in the opposite shelf.

"I made some horchata, Gabibi's helping me here."

"I learned how to make tortillas, Papa!"

Gabi's enthusiasm brought a smile on his face

"Save me some, Solecito."

You then moved to place Rosie on her floor playground. Then went to the bathroom and closed the door.

"What are you doing?" His eyes narrowed as you smirked and pulled out the silky elastic band of your bra. Eyes widened while his tongue swept over his plump lips

"Got a surprise for you, Papa. Can't wait for you to come home."

"Too bad you're not in my lab."

"Why? Wanna show me a theory, Dr. O'Hara?" you smirked and he followed

"Would prove my Big Bang into you."

A flush crept your cheeks as your eyes widened softly at the sudden comeback, not really expecting such comment.

His chest constricted with pride on your current state.

"I think I often forget I married a hot nerd."

"I'll remind you when I get home." He chuckled when you squealed internally.

"Can't wait. See you later, Dr. O'Hara." You blew him a kiss and returned to finishing meal prepping.

You had finished your indoor workout, sweat etched to your flushed skin. Miguel leaned against the door frame, an arm raised above him.

"Did you know that high intensity workouts increases your endorphin release but it's actually the cardiovascular exercises that gives you the major boost?"

"Oh really?"

He nodded while approaching and taking a hold of your waist. Gaze raking over your sweaty look. Your pheromones tickling his nose and brain.

"Yeah" He nuzzled your neck and you squealed in between giggles while he kissed your jaw

"Don't! Let me go shower first!."

He shook his head.

"We gotta do some cardio first, mi reina. Wanna have you extra happy today"

He threw you over his shoulder and walked back to the master bedroom.

And as good as some days passed, the bad ones were always in the lurk, waiting for you to fall into their claws to not let you go until tears rolled down your cheeks.

And after thirteen years of marriage it was impossible for Miguel to not know and recognize the signs of a bad day.

You'd barely talk, and if you did, it was usually short and monosyllabic replies. You'd go into a cleaning spree, walk around the neighborhood to try and ease your mind.

He stepped in when he saw the inner corner of your lids turn red, eyes bloodshot and a quivering lip as you tried to ease a fussy and wailing Rosie. Miguel pried Rosie from your hands carefully and rubbed her back in soothing circles, to then kiss the top of your forehead.

"I'll take it from here, mi reina. Go rest up."

His heart wrenched upon seeing you sniffing and rubbing your eyes while you went up the stairs.

Miguel arrived an hour later with a tray of freshly made food, a steaming cup of hot cocoa and some tissues.

"Do you want me to keep you company?"

You nodded, teary eyed. He sat next to you and put the tray on your thighs.

"Wanna share what's up there?"

He kissed the side of your head again and begun feeding you.

"I don't know how to explain it. It's weird. All I know is that I feel exhausted and sad. I feel so useless."

"Useless?" he frowned as he fed you another spoonful to then wipe your mouth, "Decaffeinated coffee is useless. A cordless jump rope is useless."

That made you chuckle and he smiled to give you another bite of food.

"I could list a shit ton of things that are useless, but you? No, mi amor. You're the main pillar of this family. Without you everything collapses within. Like a black hole."

His arm went around your shoulders and  kissed your head softly.

"But you ain't a black hole, preciosa. Like... You're so complex, beautiful and amazing. No wonder why the universe copies you and tries to demand our attention with stars and stuff."

He smiled upon your reaction.

"I love you, okay?" He finished feeding you to then massage your feet and shoulders.

Miguel walked into your room after you were done feeding Rosie and putting her into her crib.

He removed the bedsheets out of you to replace them with his frame, sprawled ontop of you. His head resting ontop of your chest.

Your hands immediately caressed his hair, earning a lovely purr from him, melting under your touch

"You know? Your digits got me feeling a strong exponential attraction. Wanna multiply?"

Your brow quirked with a goof smile on his words as he tittered silently.

"Forget I said that."

His airy laugh got your shoulders shaking with the same amount of fun.

"I didn't understand a peep. I sucked at math, mi amor."

He took your hand and kissed the inside of your wrist.

"But... I understood the last part though."

His head snapped immediately to you and smirked.

"Rosie is asleep" you scolded between hushed laughs as he swallowed you in his arms and pecked your lips repeatedly as you giggled and squealed softly

"Let's decrease the space between our organelles, shall we?"

[pancake-breakfast]

Sorry it took me so long to get these notes up. Between internet issues and pure busy-ness, it's been rough. But here they are! The notes from AX Day 1's Trigun Stampede panel! Now with images! (Sorry for Chilchuck's head in most of them. He's awfully tall for a half-foot.)

Trigun Stampede presented by Toho Animation, Studio Orange, and Crunchyroll

The guests for this panel were Yoshihiro Watanabe (producer at Orange) and Katsuhiro Takei (producer at Toho animation), with Steve Liu from Crunchyroll hosting. (They had a translator as well, but Watanabe promptly stole her job.)

One other thing I'm going to note before we get started is that this was Takei's first time talking about all this in front of an audience since Episode 12 aired. He kept looking out at the practically full auditorium (the panel was held in one of the ballrooms, so easily one of the biggest rooms at the venue) and seeing all the fans and cosplayers and just grinning from ear to ear. He was clearly very exited.

Introduction

They started off by playing a quick video recapping Season 1. (It really made me want to watch the show on a big screen. It looks great even on a projector!) After the video, Liu started in on the interview questions. Please don't take anything below as a direct quote unless it's in quotation marks; I'm not that fast with my notes, so I'm mostly paraphrasing and relying on my memory, either of which could include my own misinterpretation or just be flat-out wrong.

The first question was, how do you feel about the future of the series?

Watanabe said their passion (for creating more of the series) was burning within them.

Takei noted that when the show was initially announced at AX some years back, they were very nervous about it since they were remaking a well-known and well-loved title, but today, looking out at all the fans, he felt a lot more confident.

Behind the Scenes of Trigun Stampede

They then showed some concept art from the famed Trigun Bible. This included what Watanabe called "Vash's projection of Rem." Seems like they came up with this design before coming up with Vash's dark design.

They also shared some concept art of what most people assume to be spiky-haired Vash...

...but which Watanabe quickly noted is actually Vash in Episode 1. You know, when he's hanging upside-down. Takei added that Muto, the director, was a bit mischievous and had a tendency to lie to the staff about when certain designs would appear in the series. He apparently hid a handful of Easter eggs and foreshadowing (like Vash having spikier hair) throughout the series.

They also had some concept art of Knives and of Vash's wing.

They then showed some concept art for some friends all y'all might recognize if you read the manga....

...but in case you didn't, I'll identify the characters below:

Top Row: Vash the Stampede, Millions Knives, Meryl Stryfe, Roberto Deniro (the blank one), Legato Bluesummers

Bottom Row: Monev the Gale, Dominique the Cyclops, Leonof the Puppet-Master, E.G. the Mine, Nicholas the Punisher, Midvalley the Hornfreak, Hoppered the Gauntlet, Rai-Dei the Blade (his name doesn't actually look like Rai-Dei here, though, so they may be calling him something different or they may just be subbing in kanji; it's too small for me to tell), Grey the Ninelives, Livio the Double Fang, Zazie the Beast, Elendira the Crimsonnail

If you're sitting there thinking, "Aww, they came up with all these designs but we saw so few of them!" then I have news for you! Watanabe said we should be keeping an eye out for more of these folks in the next part.

Favorite Scenes

Next, Liu asked both of the guests about their favorite scenes, and before they got into talking about them, we were shown a video not just of the final scene, but the storyboard, the rough cut version, and the version used for dubbing, all on one screen.

Takei answered first, and he chose the scene from episode 1 where Vash goes up against Chuck Lee, a.k.a. the military policeman from July.

(The audience kept laughing at Vash's wonderfully goofy face in the storyboard.)

When asked why he loved that scene, Takei noted that everything they wanted to accomplish in Trigun Stampede was encapsulated in it. In the manga and '98, Vash is more funny and tough (although "a good-looking guy"), and here in Stampede, he's rather more wimpy (although "still a good-looking guy"). This scene is a good blend of both sides of Vash.

It also showcases a "good action scene," which he clarified by noting there aren't many anime where so much drama and emotion is centered around one bullet. Takei also noted (though it's hard to convey to you all via still images) that Muto trusted his animators to improve on the storyboards. He's not as strict as some other directors and didn't want them to feel confined to stick to it too closely, but rather wanted them to enhance what was storyboarded out as they felt was appropriate.

Which leads to Watanabe's choice for favorite scene: the one where Vash is running through his shattered memories toward Rem and finally breaks free of Knives' prison and yeets Knives himself out. (Alas, Watanabe did not, in fact, use the word "yeet.")

Watanabe said he chose this scene because he loved the details that the team added to it after the storyboarding. The storyboard just had Vash running, but they added all these subtle movements and emotion that created a much stronger impact. When the completed scene was presented in Studio Orange, all who saw it were in awe.

Upcoming Trigun Stampede Merch

First up, as many of you already know, we have the Special Edition DVD/Blu-Ray set, which is currently available via preorder on Crunchyroll.

Second up is a new Vash figure! So new they haven't finished coloring it yet, BUT they did note this will be Black Vash (a.k.a. Grape Juice Vash) from Ep. 12. Takei is particularly excited about this because he always wanted to get the Black Vash figure from back in the day, but wasn't able to, and now he's gonna be able to get his own Stampede version. This figure is actually designed by the same person who designed the Vash figures for the manga back in the day. Interestingly, after they picked him but before they met to collaborate on designs, he came up with the current design for the figure. This worked out exceedingly well, since the design Orange wanted for the figure was basically the same thing.

Also, this Vash figure will soon have a Wolfwood companion figure. Because you can't have just one of them. The Wolfwood figure is still being designed, so alas, no images of it yet.

There's also been a restock of the orders for the clothes collaboration they had with SuperGroupies before, so a bunch of that stuff will be available again soon. They're also adding a new item to the lineup, and that's a black version of the Vash jacket. (I checked their website and it looks like they might also be adding a Livio EoM jacket. Hot.)

Preview Stuff for the Next Season

Ok, first and foremost, I'm gonna note there was NO TRAILER SHOWN, so let's crush those hopes now lest they linger and lead to disappointment. What they DID show was this:

First, a preview image of the characters for the upcoming season....

TBH, the only difference I really noticed is Knives' hair seems fluffier, but new art is always nice! Also, this one looks like a win for foot, ankle, and/or hand fetishists.

Second, we got a lovely video thanks from Nightow himself!

(He said he wanted to be there, but unfortunately there wasn't a strong enough headwind for him to run to the con. And for the curious, he's wearing a Guillermo del Toro shirt.)

Nightow being a fan of Stampede and overjoyed that so many people love his story isn't new. (Wonderful, but not new.) What IS new is he drew this nice little piece of art for us all.

He said this was his first time drawing Stampede Wolfwood. He had to get them to send him 3D images of the Punisher to be able to get it right, but he enjoyed making it! He said "it felt old and new at the same time." He can't believe next year will be the series' 30th anniversary. (Congrats, OG fans. Now we can all feel old together.)

The third thing they released was this.

Given the amount of trouble I've had posting this, I'm sure plenty of you already know that the next season/final chapter is going to be called Trigun Stargaze. Liu asked Takei about this title, and Takei said something like, "I don't know what this is about. Trigun Stargaze? What's that? This is news to me." He then (after noting he had just been joking) launched into what little he could tell us about the upcoming season.

He said he can't talk about the reason for the specific title, but that manga readers can probably make some good guesses.

Trigun Stargaze will take place 2 1/2 years after Stampede. They want to keep in mind the original concept behind Stampede, that being that because the previous Trigun stories have been so amazing, what they create needs to be amazing, too. He said they're proud of what they've made so far. It went beyond your imagination. He hopes Stargaze will go beyond your imagination, too.

Cosplayer Highlight

They decided to call all the cosplayers up to the space in front of the stage next. There were SO MANY COSPLAYERS!! Foolishly, I didn't take a panorama.

Costumes included '98 and Stampede versions of Vash, Wolfwood, and Meryl, as well as a handful of Millys (Millies?), not one but TWO groups doing Barbie & Ken-styled Vash and Wolfwood (the Barbie Vashes shouted, "Hi, Barbie!" at each other when everyone went to sit back down), an old-school Legato, a Zazie, and a group fully cross-playing the characters (with Meryl and Milly being male while Vash and Wolfwood were female; they did NOT change the costumes for any of the characters).

Liu handed out prizes to a few of them (they didn't have nearly enough prizes for all of them), and then they had all the cosplayers bunch up and face the stage and the guests turn around and took a picture of everyone. (If anyone has a link to the picture anywhere, let me know and I'll add it here. No, you can't see me in it; I'm much too far over to the side.)

Guests' Closing Thoughts

They were actually running early on the panel, so Liu opened it up to any additional comments either of the guests would like to make.

Takei still seemed overwhelmed by all the cosplayers (like I said, he spent the whole panel grinning from ear to ear at the audience), and he noted he had been worried about the Stampede characters being accepted by the fans. This was his first time seeing all the cosplayers, and he said that made him "feel safe."

Watanabe said he loved looking at the "multiverse" of Trigun. It had these previous iterations, and now it has Stampede, and the fans have both adopted it and adapted it, blending the different versions together and even adding their own things, and he really appreciates that. Takei added that while they created Trigun Stampede, if in 50 or 100 years, a new Trigun series is made, that would be great.

The animation for Stargaze is in process. Watanabe said he just recently saw some of it (a clip of only a few seconds that he, of course, couldn't show us) and it blew him away.

Both Watanabe and Takei are fans of the manga and the original series, and Takei said he's really wanted this series to happen, so he hopes we all look forward to it, too.

[primaviva]

baby hair princess; miles morales

featuring. miles g. morales x latina!reader

synopsis. you stumble upon miles in a state of frustration, aggressively tugging at his hair, and instinctively, you step in to offer your assistance. however, you make one specific request in return for your help—a favor you hope miles will grant you: doing his edges.

warnings. none just pure fluff and sassy miles !! for my not boricua readers, pretty sure the only word really different is “pinche” for hairpin (art credit: snoopminnie)

“boy, if you don’t stop tryna run away-”

miles instinctively moved backward, evading your attempt to grab hold of him and keep him still. his resilience and stubbornness were evident, leaving you to wonder if these were qualities he had always possessed.

typically, miles relied on his mother for assistance with his hair, including styling and maintenance. however, his stubborn streak had prompted him to take matters into his own hands, gradually attempting to style his own hair. yet, he had not yet mastered the art of caring for his own locks, which led to the predicament you found yourselves in.

within the confines of the shower, miles followed his usual routine. he delicately massaged the hair product into his strands, employed the appropriate brushes, and adhered to the techniques he had learned for his specific hair texture.

however, patience continued to elude him when it came to detangling and combing. convinced that knots were of little consequence, he clung to that belief until today, when the knots seemed to wage a battle of their own. miles understood that detangling in the shower typically facilitated the process for curly hair, which only added to his confusion when the water failed to alleviate the difficulty. frustration took hold, compelling him to forcefully yank the comb through his tightly coiled curls.

his efforts proved disastrous.

as the comb became entangled in his hair, his arm persisted in its pulling motion, resulting in a swift and painful injury to his wrist.

usually, styling his hair did not consume much time, and earlier that morning, he had told you that you could pull up in the afternoon. however, unbeknownst to him at the moment, senora rio had allowed you entry into his room, recognizing the close bond you shared with the morales family. when you entered, you observed miles struggling to maintain his grip on the comb, his pride, dignity, and remnants of masculinity on display.

and so, the scene unfolded with you and miles' situation as he scrambled to cover his head. your intentions were pure, simply attempting to assist miles in combing his own hair. however, miles, true to his stubborn nature, resisted your efforts with the tenacity of a pitbull, determined to maintain control over his own grooming routine and feelings of embarrassment.

“this is not a telenovela with your dramatic ass so leave the theatrics for english class,” you swiftly retorted, a hint of exasperation in your voice as your hands instinctively found their place on your hips. “take the bonnet off.”

you gracefully settled onto the edge of miles' bed, the mattress yielding beneath the gentle pressure of your legs. the soft fabric of the bedspread caressed your skin as you positioned yourself on your knees beside him, creating an intimate proximity.

with an audible groan, miles met your determined gaze, his eyes rolling in a display of stubborn defiance. the atmosphere crackled with a mixture of frustration and resistance.

"i can do this myself," miles declared, his tone lacking the reassurance he intended. with an abrupt motion, he forcefully yanked the comb through the tangled strands of hair, the sound of resistance echoing in the room. the sensation of hair being torn from the comb sent a shiver down your spine, a visceral reminder of the struggle at hand.

his words hung in the air, a plea masked as a command. "you didn't see anything," he insisted, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability beneath the surface. the weight of his unspoken plea lingered, an unspoken request for understanding and discretion. “understand?”

you regarded him with a stoic expression, your features carefully neutral. "i understand that you're in need of some serious assistance," you stated, your voice devoid of inflection. as you took a deliberate step closer, an electric wave of nerves filled the air he breathed. lookin’ like them kids that get embarrassed by they mama on facebook live for misbehaving. let me help, te suplico por favor.”

extending your hand, your fingertips grazed the edge of the purple bonnet, the fabric cool and smooth against your skin. locking eyes with him, you held his gaze, ensuring that miles focused solely on your expression. with deliberate intent, you offered him a gentle smile, a silent reassurance that your intentions were rooted in love and support. it was a subtle gesture, one that conveyed your unwavering commitment to help him through this, especially since you had always excelled in the art of hairstyling.

miles' eyes remained fixated on you, their intensity betraying a roiling mix of emotions. the heat of embarrassment colored his cheeks, suffusing his face with a noticeable flush.

"fine, i'm letting you help, but only because i can't get the knot out," he conceded, defeat lacing his words.

a mischievous smirk stretched across your face, a subtle display of triumph at his reluctant surrender. with a fluid motion, you maneuvered yourself behind him, a slight shiver of anticipation dancing along your spine. as you sat up, your hands found their place on his shoulders, offering physical support.

the proximity between you was palpable, each breath shared in the confined space. your head tilted to the side, and your words grazed his ear, their gentle cadence resonating against his skin. a tingling sensation rippled down his neck, a delightful shiver provoked by the intimacy of your closeness.

surprise mingled with satisfaction as you observed the ease with which he acquiesced. normally, miles would put up a greater fight, but the direness of his situation was evident at a glance. you couldn't help but notice that he was attempting to comb his hair dry—dryer than his texts, even.

"you're doing this because i am your boyfriend and you care. not out of pity, okay?" he stated, his words carrying a hint of self-assurance that seemed more like an attempt to convince himself rather than you.

you responded with a nonchalant hum, acknowledging his statement without verbal confirmation. your gaze remained fixed on his hair, carefully examining it without yet laying your hands on it, teasing the anticipation in the air.

restless fidgeting overtook miles as he squirmed under the weight of your scrutiny, a palpable sense of judgment lingering in his mind. the passing seconds stretched into what felt like agonizingly long minutes, further heightening his humiliation in his eyes.

"just don't laugh," miles demanded, his plea inadvertently causing you to stifle a giggle that bubbled up uncontrollably.

"i can't promise that," you replied, laughter still tugging at your words.

with determination, you began to gently pull at his hair, your fingers seeking out the knotted areas hidden within. the absence of matting provided a small relief, knowing that the problem was limited to knots alone. you pulled back his hair, carefully inspecting the sides, the back, and even searching for any residue or soap that may have clung to his roots.

curiosity flickered in his eyes as he glanced back at you, his voice betraying a hint of impatience. "how long is this going to take?"

with a playful yet assertive response, you couldn't help but let a touch of sass color your words. "stop acting like a diva," you retorted, the hint of amusement evident in your tone. "it's gonna take as long as it needs to, especially since you been putting your hands on your hair like you chrisean rock. now, turn around."

taking charge, you gently guided his head away from you, redirecting his gaze back to his lap with a firm yet tender touch of your hands. with your focus regained, you returned to the task at hand, your fingertips lightly exploring and assessing the core areas that harbored the most stubborn tangles. each delicate touch was a sensory exploration, searching for the knots that required the most meticulous attention.

with a curious and investigative spirit, you allowed your fingers to delve deeper into his hair, purposefully seeking the sensation of his scalp beneath your touch. it was a tactile exploration, a quest to uncover any remnants of shampoo buildup or dandruff that may have intertwined with the knots.

as you did so, miles let out a deep sigh. you sensed his annoyance, understanding that your playful banter and sassy remarks could sometimes test his patience. but you both knew that the exchange of playful banter and sass was a known part of your relationship—a back-and-forth dance you both engaged in. bickering was woven into the fabric of your relationship, something you both embraced. he, in your words, was the "leader of the sassy man apocalypse," despite his inevitable protestations as any self-respecting sassy man would. however, this particular sigh carried a different meaning.

as your fingers traversed through his damp curls, a subtle shudder coursed through his body, reverberating in the sanctuary of your hold. "that feels good, ma," he breathed out, the admission slipping from his lips almost unconsciously.

stunned by his unexpected confession, you momentarily paused, your fingertips suspended in their exploration. the weight of his words settled upon you, a surprising revelation that bypassed your awareness.

"really?" you questioned, surprise laced in your voice. tentatively, you allowed your fingers to resume their gentle exploration, cautiously delving deeper into his hair, trying to recreate whatever he let slip from how good you seemed to be.

the electrifying sensation of your fingers weaving through his hair was potent enough to derail his train of thought. a feeling of bliss surged through him, coaxing his eyes to flutter shut, surrendering to the pleasure that pulsed from your touch. his head found a resting place in your capable hands, a gesture of trust and vulnerability as you continued your ministries.

witnessing the effect you had on him, satisfaction rippled through your being; it was almost as if you physically felt your ego boost and the arrogance that swelled within you. the tension in his muscles melted away, dissipating into the air, as a sheepish smile tugged at his lips. it was a physical manifestation of the pleasure and relaxation that enveloped him, a silent testament to his peaceful state.

in that fleeting moment, a pang of guilt grazed the edges of your conscience.

you almost felt bad for knowing that you were about to disrupt this serene moment for miles.

almost.

as you skillfully worked your hands through his hair, a contented hum escaped his lips, affirming your success. a mischievous smirk played across your face, well aware of the satisfaction you had brought him.

"well, nice you enjoyed it while it lasted," you sarcastically remarked, abruptly halting your ministrations. "because from this point forward, it's going to be red eyes and shaking," you teased, alluding to the potential discomfort of untangling knots in his hair.

the moment you ceased massaging him, he remained blissfully unaware, lost in the depths of relaxation. his eyes remained closed, oblivious to your smirk. however, at the mention of the word “knots,” his eyes fluttered open, nerves piqued. he observed your preparations, mild concern evident in his gaze.

"wait, what do you mean-" miles began to question, but before he could finish his sentence, you deftly dragged your fingers down through the knots at a fast pace, eliciting a wince of discomfort from him.

a deep chuckle escaped you, a private amusement at the reaction you had provoked. using your hand as a comb, you carefully untangle the knots in that particular section, providing him with a subtle reminder of the purpose behind your actions.

"that's exactly what i mean," you replied, your tone laced with playful satisfaction.

you turned your attention to his cómoda, scanning the array of hair products with your eyes, searching for the water bottle that would serve as the catalyst for dampening his hair. each spritz would prepare his curls for the upcoming detangling process.

despite the discomfort he felt, he mustered his best effort to endure the pain, determined to ignore the laughter that escaped your lips. his gaze followed your movements as you delved into his drawers and retrieved the spray.

"what are you doin’?" miles inquired, his voice carrying a hint of shakiness, still recovering from the sting inflicted upon him moments ago. yet, he couldn't tear his eyes away from you, observing your unwavering focus on his hair.

reading his anticipation, you knew he anticipated the impending combing with a mixture of dread and curiosity, fully aware of the potential discomfort it would bring.

"necesitas mojarte el cabello," you stated, placing a gentle hand on his jaw, tilting his head slightly to ensure thorough coverage with the spray. "y cus’ of that, i'm spraying the shit out of it because your whole head dried during that hour-long battle where your hair was kicking your own ass, and you lost miserably. so, forgive me if i find it a lil’ funny that you're treating me like an inexperienced stylist, considering the miracle i'm performing right now."

with the final sprays, you set the water bottle down, keeping it within reach in case individual strands require extra attention during the detangling process.

placing the spray in the hands of his frog build-a-bear plush, memories of your mall date resurfaced. you had convinced miles to get matching frogs, despite his initial reservations. seeing his green frog nestled among his deep black covers, contrasting with your pink one, brought a genuine giggle to your lips. your imagination wandered, picturing miles donning a purple bonnet, cuddling the little plush as he slept.

as you playfully turned him to spray different sections of his hair, he fought back a laugh, savoring the lightheartedness of the moment. he felt a deep sense of gratitude for your assistance and admired the care you took as you continued to spray his locks. each mist of water touched his hair, eliciting a subtle coolness and leaving a faint scent in the air. he kept his eyes closed, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks out of a mix of appreciation and mild embarrassment.

when the spraying finally ceased, he opened his eyes, curious to assess the state of his hair. he couldn't help but chuckle lightly at your comment, attempting to defend himself. "i didn't lose that hard," he protested playfully.

amused, you responded with a teasing tone, "if having a comb stuck in your hair isn't losing to you, then i don't know what to tell you, mi rey."

a sigh escaped his lips, accompanied by a raspy chuckle, his laughter mingling with the sound of the running water. it was another blow to his ego, a reminder of your witty banter that often left him both amused and challenged.

you reached for a nearby towel, presumably the one that had once rested on his neck, and deftly adjusted it over the shoulders of his white tank. this thoughtful gesture ensured that his back remained dry, sparing him any discomfort.

glancing back at the array of hair products, you carefully selected a detangling spray, knowing it would help soften his hair. the chaotic tangle of strands, a result of miles' frustrated attempts at untangling, called for some extra care and attention.

"mí rey," he softly repeated to himself, savoring the endearing nickname. although it was said in jest, it warmed miles' heart whenever you called him that. a smile spread across his face as he gazed at you with wide, affectionate doe eyes. "you're enjoying this too much, aren't you?" he questioned, his glance filled with both amusement and adoration.

as you carefully draped the towel over him, creating a barrier to protect his back, miles couldn't help but notice the tenderness with which you carried out this simple act. it touched a chord within him, a gentle reminder of your thoughtfulness. he found himself captivated, his eyes fixed on you, appreciating not only your efforts but also the person you were.

"of course i am," you responded, a playful smile gracing your lips. "bullying men is fun," you added sarcastically, the mischievous glimmer in your eyes betraying your lighthearted intent.

with the detangling spray in hand, you began to work your magic on miles' hair. each spritz released a fine mist that enveloped his curls, saturating them with the product. the light-catching droplets bestowed a subtle and enticing shine upon his locks. taking a moment, you sprayed some of the product onto your palm, rubbing it between your hands to ensure even distribution, before gently scrunching his hair, coaxing the detangling spray deeper into the strands.

"ready?" you asked, giving him a moment to prepare himself. the anticipation hung in the air as he readied himself for the untangling process, knowing that your skilled hands would soon navigate through the intricate maze of his hair.

a soft giggle escaped his lips at your playful bullying comment, finding it endearing rather than offensive. his eyes remained fixated on you as you meticulously sprayed his hair, the mist enveloping his senses. nodding in response to your question, a hint of wariness flickered in his gaze, unsure of what awaited him in the next moments.

"i'm ready, amor. just don't pull too hard, alright?" he requested, his voice carrying a note of vulnerability and trust.

with a reassuring smile, you replied, "i'll be gentle," your words offering the comfort he longed for. the weight of his anticipation lifted slightly, replaced by a glimmer of hope that you would navigate this challenge with care.

as your fingers began their task of untangling his hair, the knots seemed to have woven themselves into a formidable labyrinth within his curls. yet, you remained undeterred, driven by a determination to restore order and softness to the hair he loved almost as much as you.

again, almost.

his hair resisted your touch, each knot presenting a unique challenge. he emitted sounds of mild discomfort, a testament to the sensitivity of his scalp and his desire to endure the process without feeling embarrassed. your heart swelled with tenderness as you witnessed his effort to maintain composure in front of you, further igniting your resolve to handle his hair with utmost gentleness.

you embarked on the task of unraveling the knots, starting from the bottom where the tangles were most stubborn. with your fingers as your gentle guides, you skillfully released the friction between neighboring sections of hair, diligently working your way from the base to the crown. the surface-level knots surrendered to your patient touch, as you meticulously separated each strand with care. however, as you traversed his hair, it became apparent that the majority of the knots ran deeper, demanding a more thorough approach than initially anticipated. the need for a brush became imminent sooner than expected.

delicately, you began to divide his hair into six distinct sections, methodically parting each portion to facilitate focused attention. "dame un pinche," you commanded miles, and he silently complied, passing you a bag of hairpins and clips. a glimpse into his world, the assortment of cute-colored pins and clips hinted at their sentimental value, likely passed down from his mother.

with miles holding the bag for you, your fingers danced above the contents, contemplating the best choice. after careful consideration, you selected five firm metal clips, their purpose clear in your mind. as you divided his hair into the necessary sections, you secured each one with the clips, fashioning little buns that held the strands aloft. this strategic maneuver ensured that the rest of his hair remained out of both of your ways, sparing him the annoyance of wet locks clinging to his face or water trickling down his neck longer than necessary. you understood his preference for a fuss-free styling experience, catering to his needs. after all, he is your boyfriend.

equipped with a wide-toothed comb and the spray bottle in hand, you prepared the hair once more by saturating it with a fine mist. the water droplets danced upon his strands, awakening them with renewed moisture. the stage was set for the comb to work its magic.

starting from the tips, you delicately guided the comb through his hair, gradually making your way towards the middle and then the top. with one hand, you held his hair in place, providing stability as you applied a bit more force, determined to conquer the stubborn knots that lingered.

a hushed "ouch" escaped miles' lips, his eyes instinctively fluttering shut in response to the fleeting discomfort. sensing his reaction, you paused your combing and turned your head to face him.

"cállate! you tender-headed baby, i ain’t even pulling that hard," you reprimanded, a hint of exasperation lacing your words. the desire to avoid his dramatics for the remainder of the thirty minutes propelled your stern response.

"ight," he muttered under his breath, bitterness coating his tone.

unfazed by the interruption, you had already completed the first section while he voiced his complaints. with the hair still saturated, you gave it one last thorough brush, observing with satisfaction that the knots had vanished, leaving behind tightly coiled curls ready to bounce back to their full glory. the comb glided effortlessly through the now smooth strands, the sound of its gentle strokes harmonizing with the sigh of relief that escaped both of you.

with precision and determination, you continued your task, skillfully releasing the clip from the neighboring bun of hair you had previously created. as you secured it in a new bun, the section was neatly isolated, awaiting its turn to be untangled. following the same method as before, you began from the bottom, working your way to the middle and then the top, unraveling the knots with practiced finesse. the repetitive yet rhythmic motion of your combing became almost meditative, a soothing cadence that echoed in the small room.

yet, as you approached the crown of his head, meticulously brushing downward to release any stubborn knots near his scalp, a delightful surprise caught your attention. delicate strands of hair, small and wispy, dared to defy the boundaries of the meticulously sectioned locks. they sprouted from the front area of his face, cheekily eluding confinement within their designated sections. a knowing smile crept upon your lips, for you knew they were baby hairs—duh! you had some of your own along with others that you either slicked back or styled with a touch of eco gel.

however, there was something distinctly enchanting about miles' baby hairs. while they retained their petite stature, you couldn't help but marvel at their surprising length. they cascaded delicately, framing his forehead in a regal manner that evoked images of princesses gracing the grandest of pageants. these miniature strands possessed an ethereal quality, as if they held a secret whispered only to those who took the time to observe.

does miles have princess worthy baby hairs? you couldn't help but notice his long, beautiful lashes one day while cuddling. in a moment of hope, you jokingly asked to do his makeup and apply mascara, but he looked at you with a bewildered expression. he had been blessed with naturally striking features, and it made you feel a twinge of envy—even with him being a man. however, a mischievous idea suddenly popped into your head, and a wicked smile formed on your lips.

with a sense of accomplishment, you declare, "all done," as you delicately remove the clips, allowing the sections of detangled hair to cascade down, revealing his now liberated curls. your fingertips instinctively caress his tresses, relishing in their newfound freedom. "do you want two braids as always?" you inquired.

he feels the gentle touch of your fingers running through his hair, a comforting sensation that brings a wider smile to his lips. in response to your question, he nods, affirming his desire for the familiar twin braids.

"por supuesto, bebé. two braids, just like always," miles responds, settling his head comfortably on your lap, ready to surrender to your skilled hands.

the endearment he uses warms your chest, evoking a tender, fuzzy feeling that envelops you. "como tú quieras," you reply, honoring his request.

taking hold of a nearby comb, you flip it to its sharp end, aligning it with his forehead to ensure a symmetrical part. carefully choosing a starting point, you use the opposite side of the comb to create a clean divide, guiding it down the center of his head. to refine the symmetry, you rise slightly above him, positioning yourself on your knees, hovering with precision. with the comb, you deftly lift sections of hair from the part and sweep them to either side, harmonizing the flow of his locks.

once satisfied with the balance, you employ the original part to separate his hair into two equally thick halves. one side is gently draped over his shoulder, allowing you unobstructed access to work. with practiced fingers, you divide each braid-to-be into three distinct sections, intertwining them skillfully, creating a seamless braid that reflects your meticulous handiwork.

he closes his eyes, surrendering to the soothing rhythm of your braiding technique. a blissful sigh escapes his lips, the tension melting away as the sensation of your touch envelops him—he enjoys having you as his own personal hairstylist.

"gracias, mami," miles murmurs, his head turning slightly to meet your gaze, a genuine smile gracing his lips.

"you don't have to thank me," you assure him, focusing your attention on the other side of his hair now that one braid is complete. with practiced ease, your nimble fingers continue their dance, skillfully weaving each strand. "but... there is one way you can thank me."

intrigued, he maintains silence, his curiosity piqued by the mischievous tone in your voice. he remains seated, patiently awaiting the revelation, his eyes fixed on your reflection in the distant mirror. a sheepish smile plays at the corners of his mouth as he eagerly anticipates your next move.

"and what would that be?" miles questions, his tone curious.

rather than answering, you choose to maintain silence, your focus shifting to the final touches of his second braid. stepping away from the bed, you position yourself in front of him, cupping his face in your hands, your touch tender and affectionate.

“y’know miles, i never noticed what beautiful baby hairs you have…” you remark, a subtle segue into your true intentions, a rogue glint in your eyes.

his eyebrow began to slowly raise at how vague your demeanor was. “and? okay little red riding hood. ‘what big teeth you have, abuela’ head ass.”

you fixated your gaze on him, eyes widening in surprise at his comment, struggling to maintain a serious expression despite the humorous undertone. suppressing a laugh that threatened to escape, you attempted to project an air of seriousness.

"you think you're funny, huh?" you retort, your voice carrying a stern tone as you cross your arms over your chest, attempting to conceal any hint of amusement.

a low laugh escapes his lips, the sound resonating with a raspy quality. "oh, i'm hilarious," he corrects, his half-lidded eyes meeting yours, a mischievous smirk gracing his face. it was evident that he took delight in teasing and playfully testing your composure. it was more than a delight, he loved it.

you clench your teeth, a tinge of bitterness surfacing as you lick your lips, a subtle gesture of frustration mixed with a hint of intrigue. the playful banter between the two of you created a dance you both enjoyed, even in moments like these.

“it’s so funny you say that because i know a man with baby hairs longer than ella mais’ is not talking to me,” you yelled back as a rebuttal.

miles found himself at a loss for words, his mouth slightly agape as he stared at you in astonishment. your bold response had caught him off guard, revealing a side of you with a sharp wit that he hadn't fully expected. he couldn't help but respect your ability to hold your ground. with curiosity etched on his face, he continued to observe, wondering where this playful exchange would lead. he knew you wanted to style his baby hairs, but the question lingered: just how far would you take it? could he trust you with something so personal? miles could only wait and see.

arms crossed, he maintained a composed stance as he awaited your response. "you've got some bite to you. what happened to being gentle?" he questioned, a hint of amusement lacing his words.

you sighed, understanding that you needed to convince him. taking his hands into your own, you cupped them lovingly, locking eyes with him. the intensity of your gaze was difficult to resist.

"miles, pretty pretty please, let me style your edges," you pleaded, your eyes employing the irresistible charm of puppy dog eyes. you knew he couldn't refuse such a request.

however, to your surprise, he did refuse.

"edges? nah, you trippin’," he repeated to himself, his shock at such an ask evident as his mouth fell open slightly and his eyes widened. miles attempted to free his hand from your grasp, but you held on firmly.

at that moment, you realized there was no other choice but to resort to your final tactic. you brought his hands closer to your chest, leaning down to kiss him gently. the touch of your lips against his was tender, a moment of surprise that slowly transformed into shared synchronization.

as you pulled away, your eyes met his once again, filled with a pleading expression, silently asking permission to style his edges. "please?" you repeated.

the weight of your intimate kiss lingered in the air, leaving miles feeling captivated and unable to deny you any longer. the sensation of your lips meeting his had transported him to a realm of enchantment, where time seemed to stand still. as you leaned away, a flicker of disappointment crossed his face, longing for more of the intimate connection you had just shared. however, your irresistible gaze and the allure in your eyes made it impossible for him to utter the word "no."

his eyes fixated on your hand, realizing that he had been defeated by your charm. his arms dropped limply to his sides as he simply stared at you, a mix of surrender and anticipation coursing through him.

"fine, you win," miles admitted, a sense of defeat in his voice.

a smile spread across your face as you jumped up, radiating joy. "you're the best boyfriend," you exclaimed, wrapping him in a tight hug before playfully springing off his lap. with determination, you rummaged through the cabinets of his cómoda, searching for the holy grail—his eco gel.

"yeah, yeah," miles mumbled, his smile concealed but unmistakably present. as your arms enveloped him in an embrace, he savored the warmth and comfort they provided.

knowing that he slicked his hair back, you were confident he had a brush somewhere. your persistence paid off as you soon discovered the gel amidst your exploration. as you gathered all the necessary items in front of you—the gel, the 3-in-1 edge brush, and your trusty spray bottle.

a whisper escaped your lips, revealing your anticipation. "you don't know how long i've waited for this moment," you murmured, standing before him with the array of products, excitement emanating from every fiber of your being.

"go crazy,” miles added, giving you the green light. the gel in your hand held the power to transform his hair at your will, and he willingly surrendered himself to your creative freedom. his gaze remained fixed on you, as if he could anticipate your every move.

"bet," you confidently responded, reaching for the comb. your determination was evident, and he knew you were about to go all out. "you already know."

approaching him, you delicately used the comb to separate the baby hairs, skillfully tucking away any excess strands and seamlessly blending them into the braids. the edges received your attention next, as you meticulously brushed and styled them, lightly misting them with water to ensure they were dampened for the gel, all the while ensuring it wouldn't touch his forehead.

repeating the process on the other side of his head, you effortlessly extracted the baby hairs, leaving behind a clean and polished look, carefully arranging the longer strands that may have become entangled in the process.

now, the moment had arrived. with a glimmer of excitement in your eyes, you eagerly picked up the gel, locking eyes with miles.

as you finally held up the gel, his eyes widened, captivated yet nervous by your ecstatic expression. he had no inkling of your forthcoming plans, and his heart raced with anticipation of what was about to happen to him, caught in the enchanting gaze you shared once again.

"this feels like when sza finally dropped shirt," you playfully remarked, closing the distance between your faces. the anticipation in the air was palpable as you dipped the bristles of the edge styler brush into the gel, then pulled it out to reveal a perfect, medium-thick coating. "prepare to radiate fabulousness."

he couldn't believe the level of dedication you were putting into this moment. "i can't wait to see this myself," he responded, his tone laced with a hint of sarcasm. "my edges gon’ be on fleek?"

you made a shushing sound with your mouth, drawing even closer to him. his hands instinctively found their way to your hips, slowly gliding up to your waist as your bodies now stood inches apart.

"what, can't hold onto your girl anymore?" miles teased, a sly smile playing on his lips. "consider it me supporting your...balance."

a natural grin spread across your face, despite your attempts to resist it, for he had that effect on you—the power to make you smile effortlessly, just by being himself.

you delicately applied the gel to his hair, savoring this moment as an image in your mind. the weight of the occasion was undeniable, as he rarely allowed you to partake in such intimate grooming rituals. as the gel made contact with his strands, you felt a cool and smooth sensation tingling against your fingertips, heightening the sensory experience.

with precise movements, you began pulling the hair out from his hairline, brushing it towards you, allowing the gel to guide and shape each strand. the rhythmic dance between your finger and his hair created a tactile symphony, showcasing your control and finesse. the subtle resistance of the hair against your touch provided feedback that you relished, further immersing you in the moment.

however, this endeavor was about more than just tending to his edges; it had to be extraordinary. you understood that this opportunity might never come again, so you were determined to make it truly memorable. a flicker of inspiration sparked within you, warming your heart and fueling your creativity. you decided to put your heart into it.

continuing the sweeping motion, your finger glided along the edges, seamlessly blending and smoothing the gel with each stroke. you repeated the process with meticulous care, moving from one hair to another, ensuring a harmonious flow. when you reached his temple, a decision took shape. you divided the hairs into two distinct sections, applying the gel as you normally would. however, instead of sweeping them to the side, you gently smoothed them down, guiding them to face each other with an overexaggerated curve. the sensation of the gel-coated strands conforming to your touch brought a sense of satisfaction that words couldn't capture.

"perfect," you whispered under your breath, affirming your accomplishment with a contented smile.

the same process awaited the other side of his face. swiftly, you dipped the tip of the brush back into the gel, ensuring a fresh and generous coat for the opposite side. with deftness, you brushed the gel-soaked bristles down to his hair, feeling the slick texture of the gel melding with the strands. carefully, you laid the hair against the side of his head, relishing the tactile connection between brush, gel, and hair.

you gracefully swooped down the last bit of hair, a sense of accomplishment washing over you. it felt surreal, almost dreamlike, to witness the transformation you had achieved. slowly, you took a step back, feeling the corners of your mouth ache from the tightness of your grin. you observed your work with a keen eye, much like a painter admiring their canvas.

"done," you declared, your voice soft yet filled with a triumphant undertone.

bending down, you retrieved your purse, unzipping it and retrieving your phone. the anticipation in miles' gaze was palpable, as he eagerly awaited your permission to glance at the mirror.

"can i see the results?" he asked impatiently, his curiosity getting the better of him.

emerging from the floor, you tilted your head and regarded him with a mischievous glint in your eyes. "nah, you gotta wait. this photo i'm about to take of you comes first," you spoke, relishing the suspense.

miles' face transformed into a slight pout at your words, the anticipation clear in his expression. you swiped right on your phone, opening the camera app, and positioned the focus on miles' face. the act of preparing to capture the moment added to the unreal experience, as you adjusted the settings and framed the shot.

"well, hurry up then cus’ i'm tryna see this masterpiece," miles urged, attempting to rush you. though he tried to conceal it, his eagerness to see your handiwork was unmistakable.

you couldn't help but notice that, despite his efforts to hide it, miles genuinely appreciated the care you put into styling his hair, just as he enjoyed when you attended to his skincare and other personal grooming routines. he couldn't deny that it made him feel special, particularly when it was you who took the time and effort to do it.

you shot him a cold, sidelong glance, effectively silencing his complaints.

"smile," you commanded with authority, expecting compliance. miles obliged with a soft smirk, clearly relishing the attention. however, this response irked you.

"hey, don't make this look like those instagram reels where them lash techs make their clients cry with crushed red eyes from the weight of them five pound lashes," you warned, your irritation seeping into your words. "i did you good, so don't make me repeat myself when i say smile."

your firm tone conveyed your insistence on capturing a genuine smile, free from any depressed or forced expressions.

miles adjusted himself, fixing his posture up straight and doing a cute little smile only a facebook mom could get out of their son.

“que lindo,” you added as your thumb kept tapping the photo button repeatedly, capturing as many shots as you could. it was an opportunity you had to seize.

once satisfied, you decided it was time. “okay,” you spoke as you went up on your tippy toes to put your hands over his eyes, wanting to do a surprise reveal. “you can look now.”

miles leaned down a little, lowering his tall figure to your height to make it easier for you to cover his eyes. you moved forward while still covering his eyes, urging him to follow as you propped him in front of the mirror.

you smiled to yourself as you looked at him through the reflection before without warning moving your hands down and revealing his reflection.

his mouth was agape as his eyes widened slightly. there were his edges, laid to perfection. you did them just as most looked, with graceful swoops to the side that perfectly blended to his braids. but there was a subtle difference at his temples, one that you did specifically for him. you felt a warm sensation in your abdomen as the butterflies fluttered against your stomach as you watched his lips curl into a knowing smirk followed by a chuckle. it was the hearts that got him. symmetrical to each side you had given him little hearts made from his baby hairs with the eco gel.

miles couldn't help but admire his reflection, marveling at the artistry and care that went into his edges. he ran his fingers gently over the intricate hearts, his embarrassment giving way to a sense of warmth and appreciation for your thoughtfulness.

"they actually… don’t look half bad," he finally managed to say, surprise and delight in his voice. "i’m almost mad that i kinda like it, lowkey."

you grinned, ignoring his “lowkey” comment and feeling a sense of pride in your handiwork. "i'm glad you like it even tho’ you had no other choice but to," you replied with a little giggle, unable to hide the satisfaction in your tone. "i wanted to do it a lil’ special for you."

as if on cue, the two of you instinctively reached for your phones, ready to capture the moment. you held up your phone and asked, "can we take a pic’ together?"

miles hesitated for a moment, a playful blush creeping onto his cheeks knowing you wanted to take another one of your pinterest worthy relationship goals photos to add to the album of you two. "well, i don't mind taking the photo, as long as you don’t go posting me as always," he said sheepishly. "i'm not tryna get clowned in the locker room because my girl wanna be funny."

you nodded understandingly, respecting his wishes. "c’mon, miles. i wouldn’t even do nothing like that," you assured him, wanting to make him feel comfortable.

with wide smiles and playful poses, the two of you snapped several adorable mirror selfies, capturing the joy and affection radiating between you. miles couldn't help but feel a surge of happiness, grateful to have someone like you in his life to always keep it interesting and be there for him.

in his mind, he had acknowledged countless times that it was these moments, born out of the mundane and unexpected, that truly illuminated his love for you as his girlfriend. in those instances, he couldn't fathom the strangeness of a life without you by his side.

hours later, as you scrolled through your friends' instagram stories, you couldn't help but chuckle mischievously. miles had no idea what was coming. without thinking, you swiped left to make a post on your story and went to your camera. scrolling through the recents of your photos you found your favorited of the photos you and miles took. selecting a song of your choice, ranging from partynextdoor to had posted one of the mirror selfies, showcasing his impeccably styled edges and the sweet hearts adorning his temples.

it didn't take long for miles to notice. his phone buzzed with notifications, and curiosity piqued, he opened your story. his eyes widened in disbelief as he saw the photo, his cheeks flushing with a mix of surprise, embarrassment, and a hint of affectionate annoyance.

"yo," he exclaimed, a playful protest in his voice. "you said you wouldn't post it!"

you turned to him, a mischievous grin on your face. "who would i be if i didn’t flex our relationship goals on the story every now and then? crazy you even thought i was being for real about not posting," you replied, unable to hide your amusement. "don’t press me when we both look cute, especially you. everyone loved it anyway and the swipe ups are even better."

miles shook his head, but a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. deep down, he appreciated how you flaunted your relationship, knowing that it came from a place of love and admiration—knowing that if you could, you would show him to all of new york.

as the notifications continued to flood in, miles found himself instinctively snuggling up to your side, finding comfort in the warmth of your presence as you busily responded to all the messages you received. despite his stubborn facade, you knew deep down that miles wasn't upset in the slightest. in fact, you couldn't help but hope that this playful incident might soften him up, eventually granting you the opportunity to work your magic on his lashes next time.

DO NOT STEAL, COPY, OR TRANSLATE MY WORK. ALL WRITING IS @PRIMAVIVA.

[vintagerpg]

Barlowe's Guide to Extraterrestrials (1979) is a fun little book that looks at aliens from a variety of science fiction stories through the (slightly) in-universe framing of a field guide, complete with notes on ecology and biological functions.

Artist Wayne Barlowe’s selections are an interesting cross-section of the genre (I don’t recognize a lot of them, honestly) and his interpretations (of the ones I do recognize) always walk the fine line between capturing something essential that I pictured in my mind’s eye while also being surprising or unexpected in many ways. Among the beasties I did not photograph are the Overlords from Childhood’s End, the Puppeteers from Ringworld, the Izchel from Wrinkle in Time, the Masters from the Tripod books and Ursula Le Guin’s Athshean.

In a way, the Guide feels like an extension of the larger interest in fantastic art in the ‘70s, embodied most in the Gnomes, Fairies and Giants books. It, and its Fantasy companion (see tomorrow) certainly wouldn’t come out today, but for me, they’re just amazing. They gave Barlowe a whole book to draw monsters and aliens; monster and alien enthusiasts like me got a pile of rad illustrations to look at; and a stack of sci fi writers got low-key advertising for their works. Wins down the line.

Worth mentioning that this is likely a direct inspiration for Call of Cthulhu’s pair of Petersen’s Field Guides (Cthulhu Monsters and Dreamlands), right down to little nuances of layout formatting. I would bet that they were also on someone’s mind when the Ecology articles began to appear in Dragon Magazine (those started in ’83 with the Piercer).

[beautifullache]

🦄The Sims 4🦄

🎆PATREON ONLY🎆

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A product and master of the true, traditional craft of ink, Don Ed Hardy, "The God Father of Modern Tattoos," is an American born, internationally recognized artist. A brilliant creative who developed the potential of tattooing as a legitimate, expressive art form and is primarily responsible for its global growth over the past fifty years. His unique aesthetic and innovative techniques are still being utilized by tattoo artists today.

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[blakeswritingimagines]

Oxygen

Summary: Wanting to learn to protect yourself from creeps led you right into the arms of your Sensei.... who's crazy about you.

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: Dirty talk, Teasing, Dom Hanzo and Sub reader, Sensei kink, Fingering, Unprotected sex, Wall sex

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Mortal Kombat character/s nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

As the sun sets on another day of grueling training, Hanzo watches you intently. He sees dedication in your eyes, a burning desire to master the art of combat. It's an admirable trait, one that he recognizes all too well from his own past. But it's also dangerous – obsession can lead down dark paths. "Enough for today," he finally says after several hours of relentless drills. "Go wash up. We'll resume tomorrow morning." Despite his words though, his gaze lingers on you longer than necessary – almost possessive in its intensity. You nod respectfully, your body still trembling from exhaustion yet filled with an unyielding determination. You turn away from him briefly before stopping abruptly and glancing back over your shoulder. "Sensei?" Your voice is barely above a whisper but carries an undercurrent of something deeper – something yearning.

He notices the slight hesitation in your step and the way you look back at him. A part of him wants to reach out, offer comfort, or perhaps something more…but duty keeps him restrained. "What is it?" His tone is firm yet holds a hint of curiosity – he genuinely cares about his student's progress but also understands the boundaries between teacher and student. Even so, there’s a flicker of something else within those cold eyes – intrigue maybe? Or could it be interest? Whatever it may be though, it quickly fades behind his usual stoic demeanor. You swallow hard, your throat bobbing visibly as you struggle to find the right words. Finally, you take a deep breath and speak in a hushed tone. "Sensei, I…I want to learn everything. Not just the physical techniques, but…everything. Your ways, your secrets…" Your eyes lock onto his, pleading and intense. You step closer, your hand reaching out as if to touch him, but then hesitate, unsure. "Please, Sensei. Teach me everything." There's a desperation in your voice, a hunger that goes beyond mere martial arts instruction. The plea in your voice hits him harder than any punch or kick ever could. He remains silent for a moment, studying your face closely. He can see the raw emotion there – a desire so pure and genuine that it stirs something within him.

"You wish to know my ways?" He asks softly, stepping closer until you're only inches apart. His voice drops even lower now, almost a whisper. "Then prepare yourself. My teachings are harsh, demanding complete submission from those who seek them." Without warning, he reaches out and gently grabs hold of your wrist – not roughly but firmly enough to make his point clear. "Do you understand what you’re asking for?" You inhale sharply at the contact, feeling both the strength and warmth of his grip on your wrist. You nod slowly, your heart pounding wildly in your chest. "Yes, Sensei. I understand." Your voice trembles slightly but you don’t pull away; instead, you lean into his touch, seeking solace in his presence. "But please…teach me," you plead again, looking up into his eyes with an earnestness that tugs at something deep inside him. "I need this. I need you." A look crosses his features that might have been a surprise had anyone else uttered such words. But coming from you? It resonates differently – like a secret longing finally being voiced aloud. "Very well," he murmurs softly. "We shall begin tonight." And without another word, he releases your wrist and turns away, heading towards his private quarters. Over his shoulder, he adds, "Follow me." A shiver runs down his spine at your words, your confession.

He can feel the heat of your body, the desperation in your gaze. It's intoxicating, and for a moment, he forgets himself, forgets his duty as a sensei. "But remember, once you embark on this path, there is no turning back. You will be mine completely, body and soul." With that, he pulls you close, his lips crashing down onto yours in a fierce, possessive kiss. It's a claim, a declaration of ownership. You moan softly into the kiss, your arms wrapping around his neck as you press your body flush against his. The world seems to fade away, leaving only the two of you lost in a whirlwind of passion and desire. When he finally breaks the kiss, you gasp for air, your eyes glazed over with lust. "Yes, Sensei," you whisper breathlessly, nuzzling your face against his neck. "I'm yours. Completely." Your hands roam over his shoulders, tracing the lines of his muscles beneath his gi. You feel a primal urge to mark him, to claim him in return, and with a sudden surge of boldness, you bite down on his earlobe, sucking gently. "Teach me everything," you repeat, your voice husky with arousal. "Show me the depths of your power, your passion."

A low growl rumbles in his chest as you bite his ear, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to his groin. He grips your hips tightly, pulling you even closer to him so you can feel the evidence of his desire. "You dare to bite me, little one?" he rasps, his voice thick with lust. "You think you can claim me so easily?" Before you can respond, he picks you up and slams you against the wall, pinning you there with his body. One hand slides up your thigh, pushing your own gi out of the way as he teases the edge of your panties. "Let's see how much you truly crave my teaching," he purrs, his fingers dipping beneath the fabric to stroke your wet folds. You cried out, arching your back and pressing your hips forward instinctively as his fingers found your slick heat. Your head falls back against the wall, exposing the vulnerable line of your throat. "Ah, Sensei!" you whimper, your nails digging into his shoulders. "Please, don't tease me. I need you inside me." You reached down to fumble with the tie of your gi, desperate to free yourself from the restrictive fabric. As you do, your breasts press against his chest, the soft mounds straining against the thin material of your top. "Touch me everywhere," you beg, your voice high and needy. "Make me yours, completely."

He chuckles darkly, a sound that sends shivers down your spine. With a swift motion, he rips open your gi, baring your breasts to his hungry gaze. He cups the soft flesh in his palms, thumbs teasing the hardened nipples. "So eager, so willing to submit," he praises, his breath hot against your ear. "I like that in a student." Leaning in, he captures one nipple between his teeth, biting down gently before soothing the sting with his tongue. His other hand continues its exploration, slipping further into your panties to finger your clit. "You're so wet for me already," he notes approvingly, pumping his fingers in and out of your tight channel. "Such a good girl, taking my fingers so well." A sharp cry tears itself from your throat as he teases your nipple, the dual sensations of pleasure and pain making you dizzy with desire. You squirm against him, trying to get more friction on your sensitive clit. "Sensei!" You gasp, your voice choked with lust. "More! Please, give me more!" Your hips buck against his hand, chasing after the delicious pressure building within your core. You've never felt anything like this before – the intensity of his touch, the dominance in his actions. It scares you but excites you even more. "Don't stop," you plead desperately. "I need to cum, Sensei. I need to cum on your fingers."

A wicked grin spreads across his face as you plead for release. He loves seeing you so desperate, so needy, and all for him. It makes him want to push you further, to test just how far he can take you. "Not yet," he murmurs, slowing his movements. "You haven't earned that privilege yet." His fingers continue their torturous dance on your clit, driving you wild with anticipation. He can feel your walls clenching around nothing, craving for something – him – to fill you. "First…" He trails off, leaning in to capture your lips in a bruising kiss while his free hand travels down to fondle your ass. "You must prove your loyalty to me," he murmurs against your lips. "Prove that you deserve my seed." The combination of his mouth on yours, his fingers on your clit, and his hand on your ass is too much. You're spiraling out of control, your mind fogged by lust and need. All you can focus on is the relentless pursuit of pleasure. "I-I am loyal," you stammer, trying to articulate your thoughts through the haze of desire. "Only to you, Sensei. Only ever to you." Your legs tremble, threatening to buckle under the weight of your arousal. You wrap them around his waist, locking your ankles together behind his back. This new position allows you to grind against his hand, seeking that elusive release. "Please, Sensei," you whimper, your voice barely above a whisper. "I need it… I need to cum."

He pulls back slightly, watching you with intense eyes that seem to burn into your soul. There's no pity there, only raw desire and a hint of sadistic pleasure at your desperation. "Then show me," he commands, his voice a deep rumble. "Cum for me. Let go and let me hear you scream my name." With renewed vigor, he doubles his efforts, pumping his fingers faster and harder into your pussy. His thumb joins in, circling your clit mercilessly until your writhing and panting against him. "That's it," he encourages, his tone dripping with satisfaction. "Give yourself over to the pleasure. Surrender to me." Your body tenses, coiling tighter and tighter like a spring ready to snap. The relentless stimulation of his fingers and thumb pushes you closer and closer to the edge. "Sensei!" you wail, your voice echoing off the walls. "Oh god, Sensei!" And then, suddenly, you're plummeting over the cliff. Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, crashing over you in intense, pulsing waves of pleasure. You scream his name again and again, each cry punctuated by a violent spasm of your inner muscles milking his fingers. As the aftershocks slowly subside, you collapse against him, spent and trembling. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, and your skin is slick with sweat. "S-Sensei…" you manage to whisper, your voice hoarse and shaky. "That was… incredible."

A satisfied smirk plays on his lips as he watches you come undone beneath his touch. He withdraws his fingers slowly, savoring the sight of your flustered and disheveled. "Good," he says simply, his voice low and husky. "But remember, this is just the beginning." He leans down, capturing your lips once more in another searing kiss. His hands roam over your body, claiming every inch of you as his own. He breaks away from the kiss only long enough to trail kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking at your tender flesh. "Now," he growls against your skin, "it's my turn." As he claims your body with his hands, you can't help but melt under his touch. Each caress sends sparks of pleasure coursing through your veins, reigniting the fire that had just been extinguished moments ago. "Yes, Sensei," you breathe out, your voice laced with longing. "Take what you want. Use me however you please." You arched your back, offering yourself up to him willingly. Your nipples harden further under his continued attention, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. You moan softly, lost in the sensation of being utterly owned by this powerful man. "Please, Sensei," you beg, your eyes filled with a mix of fear and excitement. "Use me again. Make me cum for you."

He chuckles darkly, pleased by your eagerness. With a deft movement, he pulled your hips more up into the air. "As you wish, little one," he purrs, running his hands over your exposed buttocks. "Prepare yourself for my cock." Without warning, he slams into you, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust. A guttural groan escapes him as your tight heat envelops him, squeezing and milking his shaft. "Fuck, you're so tight," he grunts, setting a punishing pace. "Taking me so well, just like a good little slut." He pounds into you relentlessly, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. One hand reaches around to find your clit, rubbing it furiously as he fucks you. The suddenness of his penetration leaves you gasping, your body tensing up reflexively. But as the pain subsides, replaced by overwhelming pleasure, you relax into the rhythm of his thrusts. "Ah! Sensei!" you cried out, your voice muffled by the pillow beneath your head. "It feels so good… so full!" Each stroke of his cock inside you sends waves of pleasure radiating outward from your core. The pressure on your clit adds an extra layer of intensity, pushing you closer and closer to the brink. "More, Sensei," you beg, bucking your hips back against him. "Harder! Please, fuck me harder!"

His grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into your flesh as he increases his pace. The slap of his thighs against your ass echoes through the room, punctuating each brutal thrust. "That's it, take it all," he snarls, his voice strained with effort. "You're mine now, completely and utterly mine." He leans forward, his chest pressing against you as he continues to pound into you. One hand snakes around to cover your mouth, muffling your cries of pleasure. "Shh, don't make so much noise," he whispers hotly in your ear. "We wouldn't want anyone to hear how well you're taking your Sensei's cock." His words send a shiver down your spine, heightening your arousal even further. You can feel him throbbing inside you, his climax rapidly approaching. Your mind reels from the sheer intensity of the coupling, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through your body. The feeling of being claimed so thoroughly, so completely, is unlike anything you ever experienced before. "Mmmph!" you moan into his palm, struggling to contain your cries of ecstasy. "Sensei, I'm… I'm gonna cum again!" As if sensing your impending orgasm, he redoubles his efforts, fucking you with wild abandon. The hand covering your mouth moves to your clit, rubbing it fiercely as he drives into you. "Do it," he growls. "Cum for me, right now. Show me how much you love my cock." The combination of his words and actions proves too much for you to bear.

Feeling you clenching around him signals his own impending release. He pulls almost entirely out before slamming back into you, burying himself to the hilt once more. "That's it," he pants, his voice thick with lust. "Cum for me, little slut. Let go and show me just how much you love my big, hard cock." With a final, deep thrust, he spills his seed inside you, filling you with his warmth. His entire body tenses as he releases, a guttural roar escaping him as he marks you as his own. Finally, you both collapse spent and panting. He sets you down, pulling you close to his chest. "Well done, little one," he murmurs, his voice heavy with satisfaction. "You've proven yourself to be a worthy disciple indeed." The sensation of him filling you up, marking you internally, sends you over the edge. You scream his name, loud and clear, as your orgasm crashes over you like a tsunami. Your inner walls clench and flutter around him, milking him for all he's worth. "Sensei!" you wail, your voice raw from screaming and crying out. "I'm cumming! Ahhh!" Your whole body convulses with the force of your orgasm, your pussy spasming uncontrollably around his cock.

"I love your cock! It's the best thing that's ever been inside me!" Your body shakes violently, convulsing as you are wracked by pleasure. Every nerve ending seems to be alight with electricity, every cell singing with joy. You collapse against the wall behind you, spent and panting, your juices mixing with his to form a sticky mess between you both. Panting heavily, he slows his movements until finally stopping altogether. He remains buried within you, enjoying the feeling of your warm, wet pussy clinging to his member. "You were made for me weren't ya," he murmurs, nuzzling your neck affectionately. "You're such a good girl, taking my cock so well. So obedient… But we're not done yet," he says with a wicked grin. "There's still more where that came from."

[talonabraxas]

Orion ✨ About The Constellation Orion

Let us remember the “Constellation of Orion” of the Egyptians; it is evident that this constellation is governed by 12 Great Masters. Esoterically it is said that those 12 Masters assist each other, but the 6th is always missing, meaning that “In order to attain SeIf-Realisation it is necessary to rend the veil of Isis” or, that is, the Adamic Sexual Veil.

Only in liberating oneself from sex in an absolute manner can one reach final liberation. The difficulty in all of this is, as the saying goes: “wanting to saddle the horse before you’ve caught it”. That is to say, the information given by all of those schools who say that one must liberate one self from sex, but without having fabricated the Solar Bodies.

Firstly, the Solar Bodies must be fabricated, and then sex must be renounced. That is the right way of things, and the things of the right way. In the work, first it is the animal, and later, the spiritual.

The constellation of Orion has a marked influence upon the atomic star which guides us internally which is Ain Soph Paranishpanna, our intimate star. As one Master said: “I raise my eyes to the stars from whence must come my help, but I am always guided by my Star which I have within”.

(Samael Aun Weor, Tarot And Kabbalah, Excerpts from Chapter 37, Arcanum Nº 15)

In Atlantis existed seven important oracles in the physical world, where men studied the wisdom of the stars and consulted the sidereal Gods. The guardians of those mysteries were great initiates. In the oracle of Mars, Martian occultism was taught; in the oracle of Jupiter, the Jupiterian religion; in the oracle of Venus, the arts, and Venusian knowledge; in the oracle of Saturn, the wisdom of Saturn; in the oracle of the Moon, lunar occultism; in the oracle of Mercury, Mercurian wisdom; and in the solar oracle, our Gnostic wisdom.

The ancient priests taught their disciples how to interpret the firmament. Those signs are interpreted basing oneself on the law of philosophical analogies, for example: if you see black stars with your clairvoyance, there is failure for thee. If you see a star fall from heaven at the moment when a friend leaves on a trip, there is going to be a funeral for thy friend. If the star falls on someone, or close to someone important, that personage will die. If a wandering star passes before thee by surprise, someone is leaving thee. If you see two yellow stars separating from each other, it means “war”.

Through thy esoteric studies thou shalt remain under the direction of some planetary genii, and they shall call thee by means of luminous signs that thou shalt learn to recognize. Thou should also comprehend the sparkle of thy celestial Father’s star when he calls thee to instruct thee in the mysteries of Light.

This earth, so dense, that thou inhabits today, will in a remote day be etheric and we will then have the celestial Jerusalem where neither tears nor pain exist. By then, the constellation of Orion which has brought so much bitterness to the world through the north, will shine illuminating a world full of glee and happiness.

“After this I looked, and, behold, a door was opened in heaven: and the first voice which I heard was as it were of a trumpet talking with me; which said, Come up hither, and I will show thee things which must be hereafter”.

“And immediately I was in the spirit: and, behold, a throne was set in heaven, and one sat on the throne”.

“And he that sat was to look upon like a jasper and a sardine stone: and there was a rainbow round about the throne, in sight like unto an emerald”.

“And round about the throne were four and twenty seats: and upon the seats I saw four and twenty elders sitting, clothed in white raiment; and they had on their heads crowns of gold”.

“And out of the throne proceeded lightnings and thunderings and voices: and there were seven lamps of fire burning before the throne, which are the seven spirits of God”.

“And before the throne there was a sea of glass like unto crystal: and in the midst of the throne, and round about the throne, were four beasts full of eyes before and behind”.

“And the first beast was like a lion, and the second beast like a calf, and the third beast had a face as a man, and the fourth beast was like a flying eagle”.

“An the four beasts had each of them six wings about him; and they were full of eyes within: and they rest not day and night, saying, Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty, which was, and is, and is to come”.

“And when those beasts give glory and honor and thanks to him that sat on the throne, who liveth for ever and ever”.

“The four and twenty elders fall down before him that sat on the throne, and worship him that liveth for ever and ever, and cast their crowns before the throne, saying’ç

“Thou art worthy, O Lord, to receive glory and honor and power: for thou hast created all things, and for thy pleasure they are and were created”. (Revelation 4)

May the most profound peace reign in thy hearts.

(Samael Aun Weor, Zodiacal Course, Excerpt from the Chapter “Pisces)

[rin-fukuroi]

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 [𝐃𝐢𝐥𝐮𝐜]

Please do not translate or publish my works without my permission.

The originals of my works can be read here

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Pairings: Diluc x fem!reader

Warnings: just comfort holiday’s fluff!

▶• ılıılıılıılıılıılı. Freya Ridings - Ultraviolet

Note: English is not my native language, so I apologize if there are errors in the text qq

art: @eea9a9

«You know you're always welcome at the distillery»

You burrow deeper into your warm voluminous scarf, replaying Diluc's words over and over in your head, like a mantra to calm down, which still cannot calm the excitement. This is the first time a man has invited you to his house for such as… Family activities. You felt awkward even when he just voiced his proposal with the same stoically serious expression on his face, typical for Diluc, so what is going on in your head and heart now when you approach the door of his luxurious mansion is hardly possible to describe in words at all.

Of course, the reason for most of your panic is the feelings that you have been desperately trying to hide for several long years, during which the friendship between you and Diluc seems to have become stronger, but this is absolutely not what you really want. And, as a good friend and a girl who never seems to dare to declare her feelings out loud, you simply had no right to refuse an invitation.

Outside, the snow-dusted distillery is already decorated with bright flashing lights, and a charming Christmas wreath flaunts on the door. This place has always seemed cozy to you, but now the warmth seeping out from the walls of the estate feels even brighter than usual on a slightly frosty pre-holiday day.

You hesitate, hesitantly clenching your fingers into a fist before knocking softly on the heavy door. You hear the soft click of heels, recognizing Adelinda in painfully familiar steps, who opens the doors in front of you, spreading a friendly smile.

— Lady Y/N, — the woman bows, stepping aside and letting you into the manor.

— Come on, Adelinde, we've known each other for years!

— Ha-ha, it's true. I suppose I could even call you a member of the young Master's family.

— Wh-what are you saying? — you mumble sheepishly, unwinding the scarf around your neck before handing it to the maid along with your coat. — Is Diluc in his office?

— No, it seems that Master has already started decorating the Christmas tree, — the woman grins, motioning you to go further into the living room. — I think he's going to need your help anyway.

You turn around, running your gaze around the spacious room, noticing Diluc standing in the corner, dressed in his classic trousers and shirt, thoughtfully peering into a large box standing on the coffee table. His hair is tied up in a high ponytail today, and you can't help but smile a little, remembering how you once mentioned that you like it. Not far from the puzzled red-haired man, on the right side of the fireplace, there was a tall Christmas tree, on which still no decorations were noticed, while you slowly crossed the living room, approaching your friend.

«And this is called "started decorating"?»

— As I see, you really can't do without my help here!

Your voice snaps Diluc out of his thoughts, and the man turns around, meeting your undisguised curiosity when you try to look behind his back.

— You're late, as always, so I decided to start without you.

— How rude! Moreover, apparently, so far your endeavors haven't been crowned with success, — you again glance at the bare Christmas tree, and Diluc sighs heavily, turning away towards the box.

— Of course. I have just started, and the selection of jewelry takes a lot of time.

You roll your eyes, standing up on your toes and looking over Diluc's shoulder. The box you are interested in is filled with a wide variety of toys and tinsel so much that your eyes run away. It seemed that this box had been filled for several decades with various decorations that had been passed down from generation to generation. Red, green, white and gold balls are neatly stacked on one half, while colorful tinsel and garlands are arranged on the other.

— Wow, you really have a lot of toys! — you take a step to the side, standing next to Diluc. — But I still don't understand what you're thinking about. Let's just hang them the way we want!

Diluc presses a relaxed fist to his lips, slightly clearing his throat.

— It was usually Adelinde who did it.

—Oh, — you nod knowingly, before a stunning realization gradually comes to you, and your face takes on a surprised look. — Wait, then why did you decide to do it now?

— There's no particular reason, — the man looks away. — I just found some free time this year.

— Is that so?

There is silence between the two of you for a few seconds before you break it with a thoughtful chuckle, after which your hands reach for the huge box.

— What are you doing? — Diluc asks anxiously, noticing how hard you are trying to tear the box off the table.

— It seemed much lighter in appearance! I thought it would be more convenient if we put the decorations next to the tree, so… — you giggle, making another futile attempt to lift the box, when suddenly it becomes surprisingly light and rises by itself in front of your eyes, making you cry out in surprise.

— You could have just asked me right away, — you feel Diluc's forearm touching your chest as he snatches the box from your hands, and instantly give up your desperate attempts, jumping aside.

And why did he take it into his head to do it now? Your heart is so restless again now, and you can feel the blood inevitably rushing to your face, fortunately, at the moment when Diluc is already turning away, easily transferring the jewelry box to a small bench in front of the fireplace. You always knew he was strong, but now his displays of masculinity make you even more nervous.

— T-thank you … — you move closer to the tree after Diluc, taking a deep breath to at least sort out your chaotic thoughts a little, and put your fists on your sides, raising your head in satisfaction. — Well, great, we can start!

Time flew by unnoticed. The two of you were just chatting about everything and nothing, as usual, but this time it felt like this… In a family way? You've never felt so close to Diluc as you do now. He's a complicated man. You can almost see the heavy weight he has shouldered on his own shoulders, but he steadfastly and worthily withstands his weight day by day, although he looks insanely lonely when you look at him from the outside. As a friend, you should have tried to lighten his burden, but you never made such attempts.

He doesn't need it.

For some reason, you have the strong impression that Diluc is one of those people who don't need words, don't need help. He just needs someone to be there for him, even though he will never admit it out loud. That's why he invited you, that's why now his face is decorated with a modest barely noticeable smile, that's why he doesn't even try to argue when you're running this little event organized just for the two of you. Therefore, his ruby eyes sparkle when he watches you enthusiastically inspect the tree from all sides in search of an empty place where you can hang another ball.

You are the most ordinary girl — that's what you and, perhaps, most of your friends think, but Diluc sees you differently. You have the power that he can't have. You are free, carefree, still retaining the interest and craving for life that Diluc lacks, and which you unknowingly share with him whenever you spend time together.

And he just… so tired.

Day by day, his childish naivety and thirst for adventurism, which still live in your heart, melt away before your eyes, replaced by a sense of banal duty. That's why he wanted to see you today, wants to see you tomorrow and every day of his dreary life after that. After all, you bring colors to his gray days, like those with which you decorate the once boring and nondescript Christmas tree near the fireplace in Diluc's living room, breathing life into it.

— Have you finished yet? — Diluc gets up from his chair, approaching you when he notices you taking a few steps away from the decorated Christmas tree, giving it an appraising look.

— Yes, but… something is missing.

Diluc follows you with his eyes as you hurriedly run to the front door, fumbling in your bag hanging on a hanger.

— I wasn't sure if you didn't have something like that, so I didn't get it out as soon as I came in.

You return to Diluc as cheerfully as you ran away, opening a small box in front of him, in which the top of the Christmas tree in the form of a red star lies neatly.

— Why the red one? Shouldn't the star be yellow?

— Well, there really were a lot of different yellow stars in the store, but as soon as I saw this one, I immediately thought that it reminded me of the color of your hair! — your lips stretch into a radiant smile when you look up at Diluc.

— Really? Did you buy it for such a silly reason?

You were almost pouting and were about to take offense at Diluc's words, when suddenly you saw his face for the first time in all the many years that you spent together, decorated with a genuine sincere smile, followed by a quiet laugh, muffled by his big palm leaning against his lips.

For some reason, this sight made you feel such indescribable lightness and… happiness?

Yes, indeed. If you were ever happy, it was at this moment when Diluc managed, even if only for a miserable moment, to let go of everything that burdens him. And it was you who caused it.

— Well, that's it, stop laughing at me already! — you turn away from Diluc, trying to hide the blush tingling your cheeks, and head for the tree, awkwardly rising on tiptoe in an attempt to reach the top of the tall tree.

You don't even notice how Diluc's quiet laughter subsides behind your back, and his hands are on your waist, catching you off guard even before your feet suddenly lift off the floor.

— Wh-what are you doing?! — you cry out, feeling Diluc's fingers pressing into your ribs in close proximity to your chest, while he just holds you up effortlessly, like you're a light little kitten.

— Didn't you need help?

— Y-yes, but… — you swallow nervously, hoping he doesn't feel your poor heart pounding. — Thanks.

It's so awkward, but so insanely pleasant that you're ready to squeak with delight, barely restraining your gusts of happiness while your trembling hands place a red star on top of the Christmas tree.

— You can let go, — you reluctantly signal to Diluc, actually wishing that he would hold you like this for at least a little longer.

Which he does.

You feel him slowly pulling you closer to his body, so much so that you can feel his breath on your lower back as he gently lowers you to the floor, just holding his hands on your waist for a few moments before letting go. You freeze, trying to record this moment in as small detail as possible in your memory, when you hear Diluc embarrassedly clearing his throat behind your back, forcing you to turn around and see how he looks away.

— Well… it seems that's it now.

— Oh, yes, — you take a step back again, standing next to Diluc and just admiring the result of your joint work. If you weren't involved in the process, but you still saw what this tree looked like before you both decorated it with balloons and garlands, you would be amazed at how much it has transformed, now really imbued with the Christmas spirit. — In my opinion, it turned out well!

Diluc also raises his head, scanning the elegant Christmas tree with ruby eyes, and if you put your hand to his chest now, you could feel his heart skip a beat. One look at it was enough to take him back to his childhood, when he decorated the Christmas tree with his father and brother in the same way. A peaceful, carefree and happy time, the warmth of which settled back into his soul thanks to you.

— Y/N, — you look up at Diluc, but he still doesn't take his eyes off the iridescent multicolored lights burning on the Christmas tree. — Come to us… no, to me for Christmas.

And this time he let you see how the pale skin of his face turned slightly pink when he said those words.

You just freeze, not taking your eyes off the beautiful man, who now looks even more charming when the twinkle of a garland is reflected in his scarlet eyes. Your lips open, ready to make some kind of barb or shower Diluc with awkward questions, but you just smile, twisting your own fingers behind your back before nodding gently.

— I'll definitely come.

[clorvismaximus]

A Breakdown on the Evolution of Clowns

1. The Prankster Ancestor:

The clown species can be traced back to a distant common ancestor known as the Prankster Primus. This mischievous creature had a knack for playful antics and had developed basic comedic adaptations to ward off predators. Its ability to mimic sounds and movements for diversion laid the foundation for the evolutionary path toward laughter.

2. The Jester Epoch:

As time passed, a subgroup of Prankster Primus evolved into the Jester Epoch. These beings developed more sophisticated humor, using wit, jest, and physical comedy to entertain their social groups. The Jesters were the first to experiment with colorful costumes and facial expressions, setting the stage for the vibrant appearance of future clown species.

3. The Buffoon Branch:

From the Jester Epoch emerged the Buffoon Branch, a lineage characterized by exaggerated features and slapstick humor. Buffoons embraced physical comedy, incorporating elements like oversized shoes, comically large noses, and pratfalls into their performances. This marked the beginning of the distinct clown aesthetic that we recognize today.

4. The Circus Evolution:

As societies developed, so did the need for entertainment. The Circus Evolution saw the integration of clowns into traveling shows and performances. The evolving clown species adapted to the demands of the stage, perfecting their comedic timing and mastering the art of engaging large audiences.

5. The Technicolor Transformation:

In a burst of evolutionary creativity, the Technicolor Transformation introduced vibrant colors and intricate patterns to clown attire. This adaptation not only enhanced the visual appeal of clowns but also served as a form of communication. The more colorful the clown, the more likely they were to attract attention and laughter.

6. The Bozo Boom:

A significant milestone in clown genealogy was the Bozo Boom, during which the iconic character Bozo the Clown emerged. Bozo's popularity influenced the evolution of clown traits, shaping the modern understanding of what constitutes a classic clown. The Bozo Boom marked a period of cultural significance for the clown species.

7. The Globalization of Giggles:

In recent times, the globalization of entertainment has led to the spread of clown species across the world. Clowns from different regions have adapted to local humor, creating a rich tapestry of comedic diversity. The genealogy of clowns now spans various subtypes, from the traditional circus clown to the modern street performer.

8. The Digital Jest:

In the age of technology, the Digital Jest has emerged as a subcategory of clowns adapting to online platforms. Memes, GIFs, and virtual performances have become integral parts of the clown species' evolution, ensuring their continued relevance in the ever-changing landscape of entertainment.

[yurizzsblog]

French Facts:

International Language: French is spoken in over 29 countries across five continents. It is the official language in countries like France, Canada (Quebec), Belgium, Switzerland, and many African nations.

Global Influence: French was the dominant international language in diplomacy, science, literature, and art from the 17th to the mid-20th century. Even today, it's one of the working languages of the United Nations and the European Union.

Words and Phrases in English: English has borrowed many words and phrases from French. Some examples include "rendezvous," "fiancé," "déjà vu," "cul-de-sac," and "sauté."

Gendered Nouns: French nouns have genders; they are either masculine or feminine. For example, "le livre" (the book) is masculine, and "la table" (the table) is feminine. This can be a challenge for learners, as the gender affects the article and adjective forms.

Accents: French uses five different accents: acute (é), grave (è, à, ù), circumflex (â, ê, î, ô, û), diaeresis (ë, ï, ü), and cedilla (ç). These accents can change the pronunciation and meaning of words.

The Longest French Word: The longest officially recognized French word is "anticonstitutionnellement," which means "in an unconstitutional manner." It has 25 letters.

Silent Letters: French has many silent letters, especially at the end of words. For example, in "vous" (you) and "frais" (fresh), the final "s" is silent.

Tongue Twisters: French has its own set of tongue twisters, like "Un chasseur sachant chasser doit savoir chasser sans son chien" (A hunter knowing how to hunt must know how to hunt without his dog).

Cultural Expressions: French is rich in idiomatic expressions that often don't translate directly into English. For example, "avoir le cafard" literally means "to have the cockroach" but actually means "to feel down."

Learning French: French is considered one of the easier languages for English speakers to learn due to its significant lexical similarities with English. However, mastering pronunciation and grammar can still be challenging.

Verlan: This is a type of French slang where syllables of words are reversed. For example, "fou" (crazy) becomes "ouf." It's especially popular among younger speakers.

French Academy: The Académie Française is an institution founded in 1635 tasked with preserving the French language. It regulates French grammar, spelling, and literature.

Multiple Dialects: Besides standard French (le français standard), there are many regional dialects and languages in France, including Breton, Occitan, and Alsatian.

French in Space: French is one of the official languages of the International Space Station (ISS), alongside English and Russian.

Rich Literary Tradition: French has a rich literary tradition with renowned authors like Victor Hugo, Marcel Proust, and Albert Camus contributing to world literature.

Homophones: French has many homophones (words that sound the same but have different meanings), such as "mer" (sea), "mère" (mother), and "maire" (mayor). This can make listening comprehension tricky.

Loanwords: French continues to borrow words from other languages. For example, "le week-end" and "le parking" are borrowed from English.

[vintagegeekculture]

50 Years of Kung Fu Movies

There’s an overlooked anniversary that hasn’t been widely reported much yet: as of March 2023, it’s been 50 years of Kung Fu movies in the United States. 

Bruce Lee was not the first big international Kung Fu movie star. Rather, the first English-dubbed breakout Chinese martial arts movie to become a hit in the greater US (apart from Hawaii) was “5 Fingers of Death” (also called “King Boxer”) in 1973 starring Lo Lieh, six months before Bruce Lee’s “Enter the Dragon” and posthumous fame, making Lo Lieh the first true international Kung Fu star. There were lines halfway around the block at Times Square to see “5 Fingers of Death,” thanks to a radio giveaway in the New York area, and to those who first saw the movie, they remember the very first scene when the 63 year old Kung Fu master started backflipping and kicking out of nowhere and everyone watching this started losing their minds. “Five Fingers of Death” was like “Star Wars” in that it was a movie people saw over and over, minds blown, never having seen a film like this before. 

Because Kung Fu movies were shown in less expensive grindhouse cinemas in urban areas, like seedy, pre-gentrification Times Square in New York, the audience for these films was disproportionately black, and to this day, the black community has a strong connection to 70s Kung Fu movies. Every middle aged black dad today loves this stuff. It isn’t just due to them being shown in inner city theaters, however, or on UHF stations where they were replayed cheaply on Saturdays. Rather, the success of Kung Fu movies in the black community is based on the themes of the movies. Most Kung Fu movies are about poor dishwashing working class underdogs in an unjust system, usually either Japanese Imperial Occupied China, or during the Manchu Dynasty, where China was ruled by despotic foreign conquerors. The heroes bow in humiliation at first, but who secretly take the power back through intensive personal training, blood and sweat and a montage, that lets them stand up to oppressors. As RZA of the Wu-Tang Clan explained: “when we saw these movies about opposing the Manchu Dynasty, it made us think we weren’t the only people in world history that ever went through this.”

When it comes to introducing the genre, “Five Fingers of Death” is a great “first movie,” a pure, emblematic example of what these movies look like. In the very first scene, in Japanese occupied China, an old Kung Fu Master who is our hero’s teacher is pursued by Japanese karate killers, enforcers of the occupation. His student, Lo Lieh, has to learn the iron palm technique in a brutal, bloody, visceral series of training montages to harden his palms to iron, which involve him excruciatingly breaking every finger in them. The themes of vengeance, pursuing justice under occupation, training montages that are as important as the action, and the theme of failing brutally over and over until it “clicks” and you have a miraculous “Eureka!” moment that every teacher recognizes and lives for. It helped it started with the Kung Fu right away....imagine seeing flips and flying kicks for the first time when you’re used to western bar brawls. 

It’s worth noting that, despite being a hugely important moment in pop culture, 5 Fingers of Death was not a hit in Hong Kong, and was not even in the top 10 highest grossing movies of the year. It reminds me of Voltron, which is absolutely unknown and completely obscure in Japan, when elsewhere, it is THE giant robot show. The fact 5 Fingers was a big hit in the US absolutely baffled the Shaw Brothers, who were convinced to part with the rights for their movies for cheap, leading to a flood of Kung Fu movies. Notably, Lo Lieh, though he was the first Kung Fu movie star and a reliable martial arts leading man, did not have much of a career after this in lead roles. His character skills were best served playing villains in Shaw Films, notably as the evil Kung Fu eunuch supervillain, Pai Mei, in “Executioners from Shaolin” and “Clan of the White Lotus.” Tarantino wanted Lo Lieh to reprise his role of Pai Mei in Kill Bill Part 2, only to discover that he died just before filming. 

[dailycharacteroption]

Leafshifter (Shifter Archetype)

(art by BangBooDoragon on DeviantArt)

Mimicry is a common adaptation among life across the planet. If you’re soft and vulnerable, mimic something that your predators fear. If you’re fearsome and scary, mimic something harmless to draw other creatures in, and so on.

This extends even to plant life, with many plants finding way to mimic animals or other plant species. Many flowers have parts that mimic pollinating insects to draw the real deal in, or mimicking other plants to avoid being eaten by those that fear the toxins of others, and so on.

With that in mind, the ghorans, a plant species that hyper-evolved a humanoid form and behaviors to convince humans to stop exploiting them as a food source, have a conceptual link to not just this concept, but the shifter class as well.

Today’s subject, the leafshifter, is one of two archetypes that cause the shifter to take on plant forms instead of animals. The other, the verdant shifter, we have already covered, but while the verdant shifter specializes in actually shapeshifting into plant monsters, the leafshifter instead shapeshifters into forms that blur the lines between animal and plant. Like living topiaries, their animal forms are composed of plant matter, gaining the benefits of the form on a macro scale, and the benefits of plant physiology on the micro scale.

Now, this archetype naturally meant for ghorans first, but as always, I’m of the opinion that unless a so-called “racial archetype” (or perhaps ancestral archetype is more appropriate now) specifically requires a certain trait to function, there isn’t any reason why other ancestries can’t take part too.

Regardless of how you handle it, however, these shifters present an interesting way to blend mimicry with the true nature of the plant beneath for surprising customizability.

Rather than grow claws, the basic weapon morph of these shapeshifting warriors is to harden their limbs like bramble-covered tree branches.

While they gain aspects like any shifter, they do not gain the normal minor form associated with that aspect. Instead, they gain a planty aspect of their choice, representing the base plant species that they take on the form of, which is later reshaped into an animal-like form when they invoke the major form. These minor forms can include an assassin vine’s grappling, the punishing thorns of brambles, the climbing skill of a creeper vine, the camouflage of a giant flytrap, the toxin resilience of a mushroom, the immovability of the oak, the senses of the giant shrieker mushroom, the lightweight airy nature of the spore, and even the buoyant aquatic mobility of the water lily.

Essentially, as these shifters grow in power, they get to pick and choose their minor aspects to go with their more familiar animal forms. You might recognize the names of those minor aspects as being the same as the plant focus abilities of the plant master archetype for hunters, which makes sense with how the core shifter aspects of the base shifter work. Regardless, these aspects provide lots of mobility options as well as close combat options, so this archetype might be useful indeed for the shifter as a whole. Beyond that, you can pretty much build them however you like.

Even though they don’t necessarily HAVE to be ghorans, the angle of mimicry is a very strong tie for that people, especially since in the Lost Omens setting, they hail from a land where their species was once engineered as a food source, and those of the mystic arts already hold so much political and social power over those that do not. If you can’t beat them directly, fool them. Of course, not every mage requires such deception, and not every ghoran lives in such a situation, but the concept is there, especially since ghorans live with the constant shadow of knowing that some may view them as nothing but chattel.

The iron mining and smelting town of Jusso has had it’s fair share of troubles with the local ghoran population, who take offense at the pollution wrought by their industry. However, when a scanderig wanders out of a pocket of elemental earth deep in the mine, the two forces must set aside their differences to bring down this forgefiend, with combined might of steel and bestial plantlike forms.

It is impossible to say for certain, but some have speculated that the leafshifter technique has a connection with the curious plant monsters known as living topiaries. The ghoran inventors of the technique are quick to dismiss such suggestions, though some would say they are hiding something.

The Jinoge clan of adaro have developed a fascination for the kelp forests surrounding their territory. Such places are prefect for setting up ambushes, especially during their sacred thunderstorm hunts. Some have even learned to tap into the sargassum and take on predatory aquatic shapes composed of kelp and sea grasses.

[hplovecraftmuseum]

A primary difference between my evaluation of Lovecraft's fiction and the majority of his other critics and fans is that I have believed for more than 40 years that he was creating a RELIGION within his stories. This fictional religion began quite subconsciously at first, but by 1930 it had begun to be an intentional creation. Lovecraft had studied all the world's major historic religious beliefs. By the age of 8, however, he was a confirmed atheist/agnostic. Despite his lack of faith in any higher, controlling intelligence in the universe, HPL remained fascinated with all historic myths, fables, conspiracy theories (of the supernatural kind) and psuedo-scientific theories of creation or alternative realities. One might ask why an individual on the one hand so steeped in the principals of scientific method, strict rationalism, and reasoned evaluation would write for a lifetime about supernatural phenomena. If we study the Lovecraft revealed in his letters we find that almost EVERYTHING he wrote about in fiction was diametrically opposed to his personal beliefs and values. In THE CALL OF CTHULHU he tells of a gigantic and hideous monster - diety who is trapped in a city of bizzare and logically impossible architecture. Cubism and Futurism, two schools of Modern Art that had emerged during the early years of the 20th century are referenced too. Contrast these things to Lovecraft's stated personal values: As a child he had actually made altars to the gods of Rome. He was a lifelong aficionado of Classical Architecture. He despised Modern Art and modern literature. He was a firm believer in scientific method, but believed that science would never reveal any MEANING in the universe/ cosmos. Though Lovecraft evolved considerably as an individual over the course of his lifetime he remained outwardly a very conservative individual. I believe that one day it may be revealed that Lovecraft's fictional religion was something he worked on and developed in secret, perhaps hoping or expecting that its complexity and ultimately esoteric nature would never be fully revealed to others. Probably he recognized that any such fictional religious creation would be trivialized by others if It was discovered. Unfortunately that fear would be realized after Lovecraft's death. It is now known as THE CTHULHU MYTHOS. It should be remembered that in Lovecraft's day there were no "collections" of his stories available. If anyone wished to compare the background information in his fiction they would have to own a considerable collection of pulp magazines, privately printed fanzines and unpublished works in the hands of his individual friends. In many cases Lovecraft's most loyal followers were also fiction writers themselves and busy with projects of their own. Today we have a vast trove of Lovecraftian material that was unavailable to his early critics. Every few years another important source becomes available. HIPPOCAMPUS PRESS will release the complete correspondence between Frank Belknap Long and H. P. Lovecraft shortly. As Long was one of Lovecraft's closest friends and a fiction writer too we can expect that this fothcoming publication will give us even greater insite into the remarkable mind of the modern world's greatest master of supernatural fiction. (Exhibit 536)

[lesbianslvt666]

Hogwarts!AU

Astronomy!professor!Ellie x Dark arts! Professor f!reader

Acquaintances to friends to enemies to lovers?

MINORS DNI OR ILL BLOCK YOU!

content warning: mentions of bad spells lol you see around the end.

Slytherin reader lol, Ellie keeping secrets from you so you use your sexiness to get her to spill (both down her pants and information)

smut (very bad lol,, i am still shit at writing it) fingering (both Ellie and reader), almost pussy eating (E! receiving), switch Ellie and reader, small choking play (E! receiving), marking (E! receiving), hickeys (E! receiving), nibbles (E! receiving), neediness I guess, none of you cum at the end lol (spoiler I guess) idk what else :))

Your tight curls trapped in a scarf. You didn’t had no time or interest to get all dolled up for your first class, seven am, after, of course staying until 2 am talking senselessly with Ellie.

When you woke up Ellie was still sound asleep, her messy shaggy hair sticking to her face, making a mental note while you changed and got ready for your day, to braid her hair at night.

Entering the classroom gave the weirdest memories back to you. like no time had gone by, the classroom looked exactly the same.

The class was Gryffindor's and Slytherins, your own house arrival was earlier than the Gryffindor's, "one point to the Slytherins" you said as a joke, earning a few chuckles from the students.

The class was interesting to say the least, clouded with questions ranging from getting to know you to what had happened to the last professor. Your answers of course staying appropriate as possible and dismissing the ones relating to your predecessor.

Breakfast arrived fast after the lesson, dismissing the class was easy of course. However getting to the great hall with the clouded hallways proved to be a problem, trying to avoid the mass of students, circling through corridors until you couldn’t recognize where you were or where to turn.

Before you could freak out, you heard two muffled voices. your name being the only words you could recognize, walking in your tippy toes so the people talking couldn't hear you. You arrived as nearby as you could to the sound.

"what I am trying to tell you Ellie! is that I don’t know… if it’s a wise idea for her to know…" Minerva's voice sounded weary, shaky.

"Minerva, she is a strong girl, she can take the news" a short  pause clouded after Ellie spoke. "I actually think telling her is more clever, she has to know what danger could be coming so she can be ready"

Ellie voice sounded smaller, like scared a student might hear.

"no Williams!, the headmaster was very clear about not letting her know, she knows there is a threat and that is enough for her to take care when it- IF IT comes." her voice was an ultimatum, the clack of her shoes sounded harsh on the ground.

However, you didn’t heard a second pair walking- "I know you are there, come forward."

You, as if a child being discovered doing something you shouldn’t have, came to her line of view, her eyes opening wide and your name leaving her mouth like a hiccup driven by surprised, "I thought it was a student, what are you doing here!?" her steps approaching you.

A low chuckle leave your lips when you realized how childish the whole thing was. "well… I got lost…" your tongue emphasising the s and t sound.

She let out an amuse laugh. "just like old times angel?" her eyes opened as soon as the pet name left her lips, your own face becoming red, you had fought monsters, dragons, men. But Ellie calling you angel truly made you weak.

Changing completely the subject, Ellie guided you to the great hall, asking you questions about you class. You quickly realized Ellie had a thing for you. The night before accidentally confessing she had a crush on you when you were friends with Dina and today calling you pet names.

You guessed the best way to know the secrets Minerva and the head master didn’t wanted you to know was… maybe, getting to Ellies "good" side, and even getting a bit more of other things?

When night embodied the sky, Ellie took off to her classroom, doing her stuff while you ran around the dorm sharpening your plan, how to make Ellie fall for you, how to get her to tell you everything…

12:00 am

The clock beside you turn as soon as Ellie entered the room, her body and face tired. "I didn’t knew astronomy was so exhausting" she jumped slightly at your voice, giving away the fact that she thought you were sound asleep. "I mean… mentally it is, but today… umm…" she sat down on a corner of her bed, taking her shoes off and moving her head around, trying to relive some pain off her shoulders. You sneakered behind her, not getting in the bed just yet

"I had to- umm, I had to fix a few things before class…"her voice just above a whisper, her head lost in a sea of wondering thoughts, her sight far away from the room.

Her hands travelled to her cloak now, trying to get it off, however, she was met with your hands upon hers, while you tried to take a seat behind her, trapping her between your legs and your chest pressed to her back. Her body stiffened, trying too hard not to explode right there. "let me help you then… just relax" your hands stripping her shoulders off the cloak and massaging the tension off them.

Your touch felt so good, the pressure on her chest subsiding, her thoughts fixated on you, your scent lingering and embracing her and your warmth relaxing every bit of coldness and bitterness.

A groan scaped her lips without her notice and her head fell to your right shoulder, exposing her beautiful neck to you, calling you, your lips almost giving in to kiss her, so easy for you to reach…

With your free hand, you took you wand, diming the lights and closing the drapes with a few spells, she took hers, like connected to you, turning on a music player, the faint sound of music indulging your ears.

Humming softly to the music, your hands wondering around her arms, toned, veiny, tatted, so hot…

She opened her eyes slowly, looking at your face, while you looked down to her hands, rings adorning her long fingers and you thought about the logistics of her slender fingers deep inside you with the rings, or without them?

"you like my rings?" her voice laced with something you couldn’t quiet decipher, was she mocking you? Could she read your thoughts? You mind wondering upon two options. You could continue as you heart and your cunt were hopping you would, or… you could change the topic now to the elephant in the room… however, there was like three gigantic elephants here and you didn’t knew which should be better to address.

could it be the threat of your life? Would that be too soon? Scare her off?

Could it be her tired demeanour and the fact that she had bruises underneath her tattoos?

Or maybe address the fact that you heard the Hufflepuffs bickering at dinner about the fact that Ellie dismissed todays class…

"I like your hands too…" your heart won.

Her arm moved to the side, fingers glassing over your exposed tight, while you looked down to her movements and then up to her concentrated face, and to her exposed neck.

Your hand moved by itself, like in trance, fingers trapping her chin to look at you.

"would it be wrong if I wanted to kiss you?" your voice small, almost ashamed.

Your mouth was attacked by her own, her body moving now to face you, your legs intertwining to cage her hips and push her closer to you, her strong hands holding you to push you two further into the bed.

Her hot mouth open on top of yours, the kiss so needy so intense, years of thinking how you'd taste and how you'd feel came to pay her up badly, squirming and shifting on top of you, needing more, needing to fulfil her fantasies.

Her hands planted on the bed, on each side of your face, you pulled her even closed with your legs, your hands exploring her torso all the way to her breast.

This closeness was torturing, it wasn’t enough.

"please Ellie…"

her eyes rolling to the back of her head, your voice pleading for her.

"please what bun?"

her face burying in your neck, tracing all the way to find your sweet spot, needing to know what makes you weak, she wanted to know all the ways she could please you.

"touch me Ellie, I need you… please…"

She felt like wave of something new hit her from the back, her whole body now caging you and her hands pulling you so close.

Like waltzing, both of you shifted positions, Ellie was now sitting on the bed, strong back flushed against the headboard.

You were now sitting on top of her, so impossibly close, if your atoms could melt against hers and make one being they would.

Her hands roaming all over your body, so desperate to touch every bit of you. Your mouth hot in her neck, tracing with your tongue everywhere you could, desperate to feel more of her.

Her agitated breathing mixed with the sound of your clothed thighs against her pants. Fabric shifting while you straddle her, moving your hips against her own, choked moans coming from your throat, feeling her hips bulge upwards, hitting you core. Her head going backwards, the over stimulation so much…

Your hands pushing past her sports bra massaging both her breast under her shirt, hard nipples at the palm of your hand and she was squirming, trying hard not to moan only by small friction (that wasn’t enough) and the view of your needy state on top of her, trying to ride her, still fully clothed (that WAS enough)

She kissed you again, hot mouth against yours, opened lips for her to simply slide in, tongue exploring your mouth and you took your time to suck on it. That pushed her to oblivion, one of her hands going down to the place she needed you the most. 

"oh no, you are not getting yourself off, that’s my job pretty."

your voice adding another layer to her ache, your words almost making her cum on the spot, your body sliding off her, ass perked up so she could see it while you lowered yourself in between her legs, her neediness making her shake slightly when your hands came to unbuckle her belt.

Not wanting to make her suffer any longer, you slid off her pants and boxers in a swift motion, her legs closing together after that.

"I am usually the one… ummm… The one down there" she said almost shy, scared that it would scare you off.

You just chuckled.

"do you want this Ellie? Do you want me to make you feel good? To make the stress go away?"

With every word you spoke, she opened slightly her legs for you, your smirk making evident that you needed this as much as she did.

Placing her legs up your shoulder while giggling you dive in to kissing her milky legs, every mole and freckled receive personal attention form you mouth and tongue.

"Ellie, do you want this?" you said resting you head on one of her thighs.

"yes, yes… please I want you all" and she would have you.

Those words tickled something in the pit of your stomach, a desire bubbling there like nothing before.

Kissing more roughly up her thigh, leaving marks, small nibbles and hickeys, her response were agitated breaths and drown moans. One of your fingers arrived first to her aching cunt, her hips buckling in to your palm trying to get something more, anything at all. glistening essence coating your palm as you decided to be a good girl for her fully palming her pretty pussy, inserting a finger of your other hand.

Her mouth hung agape at that, you couldn’t resist how good she felt on your finger, clutching on to it. The room feeling too hot out of nowhere so you detached from her, her small pout making you giggle while you took of your sleep set, no underwear, she groaned "take your shirt Ells, play nice…"

She wasn’t used to being told what to do, I mean, not in these sort of circumstances…

And that almost made her quiver.

Both completely naked now, she couldn’t stop herself for latching on to you, kissing you and feeling you, naked body flushed against her hot skin.

One of her hands falling down to you cunt, dripping down your legs, she wanted to ruin you, to take you and mark you as hers. And she will…

"tell me If you want me to stop"

Her hand now palming you, both kneeled on the bed facing each other. Your mind in ecstasy and confused.

You were supposed to make her feel good… right?

Your own had going down on her, mirroring her position, her other free hand falling to your ass, pressing so hard that you knew tomorrow youll see the print of her hand on it. Your free one going for her neck, pressing only around it slightly. Her head fell back, eyes rolling all the way. Your hand now deep in her pussy, your hard nipples flushed to hers, her hand feeling your cunt closing on her fingers. It was too much for both.

"I am… I am gonna…" your voice cut off by your own moans and shaky breaths.

"me too angel, cum with me…" her own voice whiny and raspy, strained from trying to keep her moans from coming out her lips, it was a matter of seconds before you both reached your high.

A loud sound and a scream could be heard from outside your room. Both of you separating fast, startle…

Flushed faces and naked bodies separating from each other.

"what the fuck was that!" Ellies eyes opened, fear seeping from the pit of her stomach out, seemingly forgetting that none of you made it to your orgasm…

Your puzzling mind wondering, no other thought than to investigate, walking without noticing and putting your clothes back on with every step you took. Ellie, putting her shirt on and some sweats she had around. following you close behind, her breath itching your neck.

Opening the door made a loud screeching sound, gaining to however was on the other side to run, Ellie looked to the opposite end of the footsteps, a girl laying cold on the ground, eyes and mouth open in destress, so full of fear that sent a chill down your spine, her hand was pointing out on front of her line of sight, she was petrified.

"take her to the infirmary!" you screamed at Ellie, taking off to run behind the footsteps.

Ellie looked to where you were leaving, ready to catch whoever did it, an indescribable feeling pooling in her throat, she looked down to the kid in her hands. "fuck!" she screamed as you were now out of her view.

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