#SoL - Colors of Fall Challenge

[vibelladonna]

❛ 𝒷𝓇𝓊𝓈𝒽𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓀 ❜ 𝜗𝜚 𝓈𝑜𝓁 𝓍 𝒶𝒻𝒶𝒷!𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: A super mysterious artist who kinda blends the lines between being the creator and the creation himself. His piercing eyes and his quirky style pull you into his world of raw creativity and quiet intensity.

When you're invited to his studio to complete a college art project, you’ll be sucked into his art, his silence, and that eerie feeling that he sees way more of you than you expected. The real challenge?

Keep your focus on your brushwork.

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions. 

𝓉𝒶𝑔𝓈: sol x afab! reader, forced proximity, obsessive behavior, non-consensual, unwanted touching, grinding, dubious consent, predatory behavior, penetration, very rough sex, whiny submissive Sol at one point and dominant Sol at another point, same goes to you—reader as well, and somewhat long ass word count—I got carried away, took two days straight to write.

You stood outside the apartment door, the faint hum of the building’s creaky pipes filling the silence. A faint scent of paint and something sweet—floral, maybe—escaped through the crack at the base of the door. Your fist hovered briefly before you knocked, your knuckles rapping gently against the wood.

You'd come here to his apartment for a college project on Expressionism, drawn by his reputation as the quiet genius in your class. The space was a living embodiment of his mind—a sanctuary of creativity and controlled chaos. Canvases leaned against walls, his surfaces erupting with bold strokes and raw emotion. The air hummed faintly, tinged with the smell of oil paint, charcoal, and the faintest trace of something floral—perhaps the namesake of the mysterious Solivan Brugmansia—Sol for short. 

There was a pause. The sound of footsteps approached, deliberate and unhurried, before the door clicked open.  

Sol stood there, framed by his apartment’s warm, ambient light. His black hair, streaked with vibrant green, gleamed faintly, catching the dim overhead light. The half-up, half-down style gave his sharp features an ethereal quality, the long central streak of hair falling between his orange and crimson eyes while two smaller strands framed his face.  

Today, he was dressed as part of the canvas he worked on. A black shirt, fitted but comfortable, paired with matching pants, both splattered with faint remnants of past creative frenzies. Over this, he wore a painting apron streaked with the vibrancy of forgotten colors—a kaleidoscope of blues, yellows, and pinks. It looked almost ceremonial, as though he were a priest of Expressionism itself. 

“Hey,” Sol said, his voice soft but resonant, as if each word had been weighed and measured before leaving pierced lips. He stepped aside, gesturing you in.  

You entered cautiously, suddenly hyperaware of how much space you were occupying. Sol’s apartment was an eclectic mix of chaos and artistry. The walls were lined with shelves stuffed with books, jars of brushes, and sketchpads in various stages of use. Canvases leaned haphazardly against one wall, his surfaces alive with strokes of vibrant, chaotic color.

A large easel stood in the corner by a wall, its frame splattered with years of paint, and next to it was a table strewn with tubes of oil paint, jars of water, and what looked like a half-finished sculpture.  

The furniture was minimal but intentional. A worn, paint-streaked couch sat across from a low coffee table, which had been overtaken by sketchbooks and coffee mugs. The faint glow of string lights wound around the ceiling added warmth, softening the industrial feel of the concrete floors.  

Sol closed the door behind you, the lock clicking faintly. “Shoes off, please,” He said, his gaze flicking briefly to your feet. He was wearing socks, his black shirt, and matching pants, giving them a striking silhouette beneath the paint-streaked apron he wore. “Do you always live like… this?” you asked, gesturing vaguely at the organized chaos.  

Sol glanced around as if seeing the space through your eyes for the first time. “It’s functional,” He said simply, before pulling a stool toward the easel and sitting. “I know where everything is.” He reached for a brush, spinning it absently between his fingers. “Did you bring the sketches?” You nodded, pulling a folder from your bag. “Yeah. I mean, they’re rough. I wasn’t sure if they’d fit the theme.” You hesitated before handing them over.  

Sol didn't say anything right away. Instead, he put the brush down and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he flipped through your work. His gaze was intense, those fiery eyes scanning each page with a focus that made you feel bare.

His eyes were a masterpiece in themselves, an intense study of Central Heterochromia: an inner ring of burning orange encircled by an outer hue of crimson red. When he looked at you, it felt as though he were dissecting your very soul, layer by delicate layer.

“This one,” Sol said finally, tapping one of the sketches. It was an abstract piece—a swirl of jagged lines and harsh shading. “It’s raw. Honest. Use this as your foundation.”  

“Really?” You leaned closer, your shoulder brushing his accidentally. Sol didn’t pull away. “I wasn’t sure if it was too… messy.”  

“That’s the point,” Sol said, his voice quiet but firm. He set the folder aside and stood, moving toward the table where his paints were arranged. “Expressionism isn’t about clean lines. It’s about emotion. About what’s inside.” He picked up a palette, his long fingers deftly squeezing out colors in no particular order. “You brought what’s inside. I’ll help you pull it out.”  You couldn’t help but watch as he moved, each action deliberate and fluid.

“So… how do we start?” You asked.

Sol turned to you, the faintest trace of a smile playing at his lips. "You start by not overthinking. Paint what you feel. I'll be here if you need guidance."  He handed you a brush, his fingers brushing yours for just a moment before pulling away. "The colors are ready. Paint whatever you like.”

For a moment, the only sound was the hum of the lights and the soft beat of your heart. Something in his presence was grounding, even as his piercing gaze seemed to strip you down to your essence. You took a deep breath and stepped toward the easel, the weight of Sol's quiet encouragement settling on your shoulders. "All right," you said, gripping the brush a little tighter.

"Let's do this.” You added.

Sol’s eyes followed your every movement, unblinking and intent. The way your hand gripped the brush—a touch too tight, almost desperate—and the soft inhale you took before the bristles kissed the canvas was enough to captivate him.

To Sol, it was as though he was watching the birth of a masterpiece, even if the real art hadn’t yet materialized on the canvas. He was utterly mesmerized, a silent spectator to something far beyond mere paint and pigment.  

Then, in a sudden, mischievous shift, you dipped your brush into a light green on the palette and, without hesitation, swiped it across his cheek. The coolness of the paint startled him, his eyes widening as he froze in place. For a beat, Sol said nothing, stunned into stillness. Then, slowly, a small smile began to tug at the corner of his mouth, the icy veneer of his composure cracking ever so slightly.  

He raised an eyebrow, amusement glimmering in his crimson-and-orange gaze. “Really?” he asked, his voice carrying the faintest undercurrent of a chuckle as he wiped at his cheek with his fingers. “Was that necessary?”  

As he spoke, his hand casually reached for another brush, dipping it into a bold shade of red.  

Your grin widened at his reaction, a playful spark lighting your eyes. “Necessary?” you teased, tilting your head. “Maybe not. But it was definitely worth it. Besides,” you added, twirling your brush between your fingers, “your reaction was priceless.”  

Sol’s smirk deepened, his eyes narrowing as though calculating his next move. He leaned forward slightly, closing the space between you as the red-tipped brush hovered just inches from your skin. “You’re asking for it now,” he said softly, his tone playful but laced with a subtle edge. “Challenging an artist in his territory? Bold move.”  

Your heart skipped at the proximity, but you held your ground. Meeting his gaze with equal intensity, you let your smirk turn sly. “Oh, I’m not just asking for it,” you quipped, your voice low and teasing. “I’m daring you to try.”  

Sol’s eyes darkened, his playful expression giving way to something more intense, almost… predatory.

The brush in his hand swayed, the paint clinging to the tip as it hovered closer to your face. His voice dropped to a whisper, sending a shiver through you. “You don’t even know what you’re playing at,” he murmured, his lips curving into a slow, wicked smile.  

Then, with a sudden and deliberate movement, he swiped the red paint across the bridge of your nose. The cool sensation made you blink in surprise, but the shock quickly melted into a laugh. You reached for another brush, dipping it into a rich green. “Rules, you say?” you said with mock defiance, a glint of mischief dancing your eyes. “But isn’t breaking them half fun?”  

You drew the brush across the canvas instead of retaliating directly, your strokes bold and deliberate. Sol’s eyes flicked between the emerging shapes and your determined expression, his lips twitching with a mix of admiration and confusion.

A low chuckle rumbled from his throat, the sound rich and unexpected, sending a pleasant chill down your spine. “You’re not only cheeky,” he said, watching the paint flow in deliberate curves. “You’ve got the right attitude for this. Art isn’t about staying in lines—it’s about breaking through boundaries.”  

His words carried a teasing edge, but beneath them was a subtle warmth, an acknowledgment of your courage and creativity. Still, as his gaze lingered on you, there was a flicker of something unreadable in his expression.  

“Careful, though,” he added softly, a smirk creeping back to his lips. “You might end up inspiring me more than the canvas.” The tension hung in the air like a taut string, electric and alive, as the two of you exchanged another glance.  

You noticed the way Sol cast fleeting glances, darting his eyes between the canvas and your face. His expression was perfectly schooled, calm, and unreadable, but the tiniest flicker of amusement betrayed him. You knew he was holding back, his true opinion hidden behind that enigmatic smirk. Your eyes narrowed slightly, a spark of determination flaring within you as you paused your brush mid-stroke. 

You met his gaze with a sly smile, your voice dripping with playful accusation. “You’re such a liar. Just say it—I’m bad at painting.”  

Sol chuckled, a soft, throaty sound that was more amused than menacing this time. The smirk on his lips grew, and he didn’t bother to hide it as he leaned slightly against the edge of the table. “All right,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “The truth? You’re terrible at painting.” Before one could object, he held up a hand, his expression mock-serious. 

"Your brushwork technique is messy, your composition is unbalanced, and your color harmony… well, let's just say it's as chaotic as your personality.” He said.

Your jaw dropped, and a flicker of indignation flashed in your eyes. But you composed yourself quickly, raising your chin in defiance. "Oh, is that right?" you retorted coolly, crossing your arms. "Well then, I suppose you think you could do a lot better."

Sol’s crimson-and-orange eyes gleamed with mischief, and he raised an eyebrow as though the answer should’ve been obvious. “Of course I could.”  

Without waiting for permission, he stepped closer to the canvas, grabbing a clean brush from the palette. He leaned forward, studying your piece intently, his head tilting just slightly as he took in every line and stroke. For a moment, he said nothing, and the quiet stretched between you. 

Then, with a smirk, he glanced back at you. “But don’t worry,” he said, dipping his brush into a pale yellow. “I’m not going to paint over your work. That would be cruel.” His tone softened slightly, almost imperceptibly, as he added, “You’ve got potential. Under the right tutelage, of course.”  

You watched as Sol began painting over the blank spaces on the canvas. His brush moved lightly, in long, deliberate strokes. Each movement was precise, controlled, and yet carried an effortless grace. His hand didn’t hesitate, the tip of the brush gliding across the fabric like it was an extension of himself.  

Your eyes drifted to his hand, caught by its hypnotic rhythm. It was larger than yours, bony yet strong, the veins along the back prominent as they flexed with the motion. The way his fingers gripped the brush with such confidence… It made you wonder, for a short second, what it might feel like if those same hands brushed against your skin instead of the canvas.  

You blinked, startled by the thought, and shook your head slightly. But your gaze returned to his hands almost immediately, as though they had a gravity of their own. Something was captivating about them—the way they moved with purpose and elegance, the way the bristles danced under his direction.  

“What?” Sol’s voice broke your trance, and you snapped your eyes up to meet his gaze. His lips curved into a teasing smile as though he’d caught you staring. “Don’t tell me I’ve already inspired awe.”  

You scoffed, rolling your eyes to cover your embarrassment. “Awe? Hardly. I’m just… observing your technique.” You gestured vaguely toward the canvas, trying to sound nonchalant. “Mm-hm,” he murmured, clearly unconvinced.

He leaned back slightly, his free hand resting on the table as he continued to paint. “So, what do you think? Learning something?”  

Your lips twitched into a small smile, your earlier indignation melting into something lighter. “Well,” you began, tilting your head, “I can see that you’re good with your hands. I’ll give you that.”  

Sol paused, glancing at you sidelong with a raised brow. His smirk deepened, taking on an almost dangerous edge. “Careful with compliments like that,” he said, his voice soft but laced with a playful warning. “You might give me the wrong idea.”  

Heat crept into your cheeks, but you held your ground, determined not to give Sol the satisfaction of flustering you. Instead, you stepped closer, the faintest hint of a challenge in your stance. “Oh, I’m sure you’re used to hearing it,” you shot back. “You’re practically begging for praise with the way you show off.”  

Sol laughed, low and rich, the sound like velvet brushing against the charged air between you. Straightening, he set his brush down and leaned slightly against the table, his gaze never leaving yours. “Maybe I am,” he admitted, his smirk widening just enough to make your pulse quicken. “But it’s working, isn’t it?”  

Your brow lifted, and you tilted your head, feigning disinterest even as you studied him. His piercing gaze, the subtle confidence in his posture, that maddening smirk—it was infuriating how self-assured he was. And yet, there was something magnetic about him, something that made it impossible to look away.  

You rolled your eyes, breaking the moment with a scoff. “Fine,” you said, lifting your brush again and stepping toward the canvas. “But don’t expect me to call you a genius. Not yet, anyway.”  

“Fair enough,” Sol replied, his voice tinged with amusement. He shifted slightly, leaning down, watching you with a quiet intensity. The air between you felt electric and playful but threaded with an undertone of something deeper, something neither of you dared to name.  

You focused on the canvas, trying to tune out the way his gaze burned into your back. But as the moments stretched, your thoughts wandered again. Did he feel it too—that spark, that pull? Or was it just your imagination running wild?  

“Do you want me to guide you?” Sol’s sudden question cut through your thoughts, startling you. You glanced over your shoulder at him, your brush hesitating mid-stroke. “Guide me?” His expression flickered with faint amusement as he straightened, stepping closer. “Your brushwork on our painting,” he clarified. “Are you sure you’re paying attention?”  

The flush on your cheeks deepened. You’d been so wrapped up in your thoughts—most of them about him—that you’d completely zoned out. Trying to cover your embarrassment, you huffed, lifting your chin slightly.  “Of course, I’m paying attention,” you retorted, though your voice betrayed you with its defensiveness. “I’ve been observing, just like you said.”  

The corner of Sol’s mouth quirked, a small, knowing smirk that sent a spark of irritation and something else through you. “Is that so?” he murmured.  

Before you could respond, he moved closer, standing just behind you. The air around you shifted, warmer now, charged with his presence. You felt the heat of his body at your back, the faint rustle of fabric as he leaned in, close enough that you could feel his breath against your ear.  

“You’re about as good at lying as you are at painting,” Sol said softly, his voice low and teasing. “You haven’t been paying attention to anything but me for the last five minutes.” Your protest died on your lips as his hand—larger, warmer—wrapped gently around yours, guiding your grip on the brush. You froze, your heart pounding as his chin rested lightly on your shoulder, the weight and proximity making it hard to breathe.  

“Okay,” he murmured, his voice softer now, almost coaxing. “Just follow me.”  

Your hand moved under his guidance, the brush sweeping across the canvas in a smooth, deliberate arc. Together, you created a perfect swirl, the paint gliding like silk beneath the bristles. Your breath hitched, your gaze darting to his face out of the corner of your eye.  

Sol’s focus was entirely on the canvas, his eyes following the line of the brush with the same intensity he’d given you earlier. A faint smile ghosted across his lips as he added another gentle stroke, the motion fluid and practiced. When his gaze finally flicked to yours, the warmth in his expression sent a jolt through you.  

“Pay attention, please,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.  

You swallowed hard, trying to steady the rush of emotions his proximity stirred. But then his eyes lingered a moment too long, and a small, knowing smirk curled at the edge of his lips again. Finding a burst of courage—or recklessness—you turned your head slightly, your faces just inches apart now. “I thought you said I wasn’t paying attention,” you said, your tone playful, though your voice was softer than you intended.  

Sol’s smile deepened, his eyes flickering between yours and the canvas. “You weren’t,” he said, his breath brushing against your skin. “But maybe you’re finally getting the hang of it.” His low chuckle reverberated softly against your back, and the way his fingers guided your wrist—it was impossible not to feel the heat rising in your cheeks.  

You swallowed hard, determined to keep your focus on the canvas in front of you, but Sol's presence was utterly overwhelming. "Maybe I just needed the right tutor," you managed to say, your voice wavering just enough to betray how unsteady you felt.  

Sol let out a quiet laugh, warm and teasing. "Maybe you did," he replied, his tone carrying a playful edge. His hand adjusted slightly, guiding the brush into a smooth curve. “But you’ll need to focus for it to work.”  

Easier said than done. He leaned in closer, his chest brushing lightly against your back, his breath warm on the side of your neck. Your heartbeat hammered, your skin prickling with the awareness of how close he was. His scent—a faint mix of paint, something floral, and the slightest hint of musk—filled your senses, making it almost impossible to concentrate.  

The brush wavered slightly in your hand, the line on the canvas faltering. “Careful,” Sol murmured, his lips almost brushing your ear. “Don’t move too much. You’ll smudge our work.”  

Your grip on the brush tightened as you fought to focus, but it was no use. The combination of his steady breathing, the warmth radiating from his body, and that damn smirk you knew was probably still on his lips—it was too much. Your arm shifted slightly, your elbow bumping against his.  

Sol sighed, soft but pointed, his hand slipping away from yours. “All right,” he said, straightening up and stepping back. His tone was still calm, but there was a flicker of something firmer beneath it, something that sent a shiver down your spine. “If you can’t be still, maybe we need to change tactics.”  

You blinked, turning to face him. “What do you mean?”  

Without a word, Sol reached out, his hands firm but careful as he grasped your waist and guided you backward. Before you could process what was happening, you found yourself seated in his lap, his hands steadying you.  

Your heart nearly stopped.  

“Wha—Sol!” you sputtered, heat flooding your face as you tried to wriggle away. “Please stop moving,” he said, his voice quickly said, almost in a warming tone. His arms rested lightly on either side of you, effectively caging you in. “You said you needed the right tutor. This is part of the lesson.”  

Your protest died in your throat as you felt his breath against your ear again, his warmth surrounding you completely now. Your pulse was racing, your cheeks burning, but there was something about his calm composure—like this was the most natural thing in the world—that left you utterly speechless.  

“You’re too restless,” Sol said, his voice softer now, almost teasing. “You’re going to ruin our painting if you keep squirming.”  

“I—I’m not squirming,” you managed, though your voice betrayed you. “Sure you’re not,” he replied, his smirk practically audible. His hands moved to guide yours again, steady and sure as he returned your focus to the canvas. “Now, relax. Let me show you how it’s done.”  

Despite your flustered state, his voice and the firm yet gentle pressure of his hands steadied you, guiding the brush in smooth, deliberate strokes. The rhythm of his movements and the closeness of his presence made it impossible to think about anything else.  

As you followed his guidance, your breaths began to sync with his, the tension in your shoulders loosening slightly. His hand stayed over yours, directing the brush with practiced ease.  

“There,” he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper. “See how much better that feels?”  

You swallowed, glancing over your shoulder at him. His gaze was focused on the canvas, but the faintest smirk still played at the corner of his lips. His eyes flicked to meet yours briefly, and the intensity in them sent another wave of warmth rushing through you.  

“I think you just like being in control,” you said, trying to sound teasing, though your voice was softer than you intended.  

Sol chuckled, his breath brushing against your neck. “And I think you like making things harder than they need to be.”  

Your heart raced as his words lingered in the air, the tension between you palpable. But before you could respond, Sol’s hand guided yours in another gentle stroke, pulling your focus back to the canvas. “Now,” he said, his tone a bit more playful, “are you going to let me teach you, or do I need to keep you here until you finally pay attention?”  

The challenge in his voice made your cheeks burn even hotter, but you rolled your eyes, gripping the brush tighter. “Fine,” you muttered. “I’ll pay attention.”  

“Good,” he said, leaning slightly closer. “Because we’re not done yet.” Your pulse raced as Sol’s hands guided yours, the rhythm of the brushstrokes steady under his control. He sat perfectly at ease, holding you on his lap like it was just another part of his creative process.  

And you? You were anything but composed.  

“When doing this stroke, pay close attention,” Sol murmured again, his voice low and coaxing, his breath brushing against your ear. All you needed to do was Relax. As if you could do that when every inch of you felt like it was vibrating with awareness of him. “No pressure,” he added, his hand over yours, moving the brush in a smooth arc. “Unless you want to mess up and start over.”  

You scoffed, tilting your head just enough to glance back at him, a mischievous spark lighting your eyes. “I think you like having me mess up,” you said, your voice laced with defiance. Sol’s lips twitched into a smirk, but he didn’t take the bait. “Maybe,” he said, his tone calm and measured. “But it’s our project. If we waste more time because of you being difficult, that’s on you.”  

Something about the calm way he said it made you bristle. You shifted slightly in his lap, testing his patience as you pressed back just enough to feel the firmness of his chest against your back.  

“I’m not being difficult,” you said, your tone saccharine and falsely sweet. You turned your head more, your eyes narrowing as you added, “I just think you’re enjoying this a little too much, Sol.”  

His brow arched slightly, the only indication that you’d gotten under his skin. “Am I?” he asked, his voice still maddeningly even. But as you shifted again—this time deliberately moving in a way that pressed closer to him—you felt the way his body tensed beneath you.  

The faintest hint of red crept into Sol’s cheeks, and his hand on yours tightened slightly before releasing, his composure faltering just enough to make your lips curve into a triumphant smile.  

“See?” you said, turning fully now so you were half-facing him, still perched on his lap. “You do enjoy it.”  

His crimson-and-orange gaze flicked over you, lingering for just a moment too long before snapping back to your eyes. Something about him was... off.

Not in an unsettling way, but in a way that made your skin prickle with awareness. The piercing gaze from those luminous eyes seemed to see more of you than you intended to show. His silence spoke volumes, each glance and measured movement a language of its own.  

The way he painted and the way he carried himself made it hard to distinguish where the artist ended, and the art began. Sol wasn't just quiet. He was quiet. And in that stillness, you found yourself drawn to him like a moth to a flame—a dangerous, beautiful thing you couldn't resist.

You noticed it then—the way his expression shifted, the way his pupils dilated slightly as he took in the way your outfit clung to you, a simple, black shirt with a matching pencil skirt, looking like a dress, more fitted than he’d probably realized earlier.  

“You’re pushing your luck,” Sol said softly, his voice carrying a warning edge. He was stiff beneath you, his posture taut, as though holding himself together with sheer willpower.  

But you weren’t backing off.  

Instead, you tilted your neck and leaned in, your face stopping mere inches from his. “Am I?” you whispered, the deliberate echo of his earlier words carrying a teasing, brash confidence.  

His reaction was almost immediate. The flush on his cheeks deepened, painting his pale skin with a rosy hue that crept to the tips of his ears. You shifted back slightly in his lap, letting your back brush against his chest, and the sudden contact made him jerk awkwardly on the stool.  

Sol swallowed hard, his hands gripping the edges of the seat as though he was anchoring himself. “Please stop,” he said, quieter this time, his voice almost a plea. But the way his molten gaze locked onto yours betrayed him—he didn’t mean it. “Aw.. Why?” you asked, tilting your head with mock innocence. “Am I distracting a great artist from his work?”  

His jaw tightened, the muscles flexing as his hands flexed on the stool. The tension radiating from him was palpable, and it only spurred you on. His composure was crumbling, piece by piece, and you were determined to break it completely.  

“You’re impossible,” Sol muttered, his voice strained.  

The triumph in your smile grew, and you leaned closer, just enough for your breath to tease the sensitive skin of his neck. “You could always make me stop,” you murmured, your voice soft and challenging.  

For a moment, Sol didn’t move, his gaze flicking between your lips and your eyes. His breathing grew heavier, each exhales brushing against your cheek. You could almost hear the war raging inside him, every bit of his control battling the undeniable pull between you.  

Then, in one swift motion, his hand slid to your waist. The firm but steady grip steadied you as he leaned forward, his lips brushing against the side of your neck in a fleeting, feather-light kiss that sent a jolt of electricity racing through you.  

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you pressed back further into him, daring him to take another step.  

Sol’s response was immediate. His teeth grazed your neck, the gentle nibble enough to leave you breathless and your pulse hammering in your ears. His other hand moved to your hip, holding you firmly in place as he pressed another kiss to your neck, this one lingering longer, his lips warm and insistent.  

“Still think I’m enjoying this too much?” he murmured, his voice rough and ragged against your skin. Your smirk faltered as heat flushed through you, your ability to respond stolen by the heady sensations he was creating.  

Sol chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your neck, sending another shiver coursing through you. “What’s the matter?” he teased, his lips brushing the sensitive spot just below your ear. “You’re quiet now.”  

You swallowed hard, forcing your voice to steady. “I-I’m just giving you a chance to prove your point,” you said, though your defiance was flickering with every second.  

“Oh, I’ll prove it,” Sol murmured, his lips curving into a smirk against your skin.  

His fingers brushed the hem of your top, skimming the fabric aside to expose more of your collarbone. He continued his trail of kisses, his lips soft but deliberate, his teeth occasionally nipping at the sensitive skin and likely leaving faint red marks.  

Your breath came in shallow gasps, your mind clouded with the sensation of his mouth, his hands, and the heat of his body enveloping you. When you shifted slightly, testing his patience, Sol growled low in his throat.

He tugged you closer with a sudden movement, turning you slightly on his lap so you faced him. His hands gripped your hips, firm but careful, making sure you wouldn’t lose your balance. His body pressed flush against yours, his thighs anchoring you in place, leaving no space between you.  

The sudden awareness of your positions sent a jolt through you, the contrast between his firm frame and your softness making you hyper-aware of every point of contact. His chest brushed yours as he leaned closer, his voice low and dripping with intensity. “Was this an accident?” he asked, his gaze burning into yours. “Or was it on purpose?”  

You swallowed thickly, turning your neck behind yourself to allow your eyes to drift to the hollow of his throat. Slowly, you reached out, your index finger tracing a light, teasing path along his collarbone. “Possibly… both,” you murmured.  

His hand shot out, catching your wrist before you could trail your touch any lower. His grip was firm but not painful, his expression a mix of frustration and desire as he forced you to meet his gaze.  

“How long,” he asked, his voice dangerously soft, “are you going to keep staring at me?”  

Your lips curved into a slow, teasing smile as you tilted your head. “As long as I want to,” you said with a defiant edge. “What’s wrong? Are you going to punish me more?”  

His grip on your wrist tightened slightly, and his other hand pressed against the small of your back, holding you steady as he leaned in closer. “Don’t be cocky,” he warned, his voice dropping to a rough, predatory whisper. “You don’t want to know the kind of things I’m imagining.”  

You glanced down at the growing tension between you—at the unmistakable bulge pressing against your thigh. A flicker of boldness sparked in your expression as your fingers teased over his chest. “I think I already know,” you whispered.  

Sol’s eyes darkened, his breath hitching as he tensed beneath you. His lips brushed your ear, his voice a strained mix of frustration and want. “You’re playing with fire,” he murmured, his tone rough, almost ragged.  

Before you could form a reply, Sol leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that stole the air from your lungs. It wasn’t gentle—it was raw, demanding, and full of the hunger he’d been holding back. Your eyes widened in shock at first, the boldness of his move catching you completely off guard.  

But that shock melted quickly, replaced by an undeniable pull that made you lean into him.  

Sol’s hands moved to your hips, gripping firmly as he turned you fully to face him on his lap. The motion was smooth but decisive, his strength evident as he shifted you effortlessly. Your knees now rested on either side of his thighs, your bodies pressed flush against one another.  

The new position heightened the intensity, your chest brushing his with each labored breath. Sol’s hands slid up your back, pulling you closer, while his lips moved against yours with a hunger that left you breathless.  

You didn’t hesitate, your hands moving to the sides of his face, holding him there as you matched his fervor with your own. The kiss deepened, turning messy and desperate, your mouths moving in sync as though trying to consume each other completely.  

Sol broke away for a moment, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath, his eyes burning into yours with a heat that made your skin tingle. “You’re relentless,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, his fingers pressing into your lower back.  

You smirked, your lips brushing his as you replied, “And you’re loving it.”  

Before he could respond, you leaned back in, reclaiming his mouth with a force that left him no room to argue. Your hands moved instinctively, reaching behind him to untie the apron, quickly removing it from him to have a clear view of his chest.

Slowly, your index finger drags itself down his chest, feeling the firm muscle beneath the fabric of his shirt. The urgency of the moment consumed you, and your fingers found the buttons of his shirt, fumbling at first, then unfastening them one by one with increasing speed.  

Sol groaned softly against your lips, the sound vibrating through you and making your pulse race. His hands moved again, one slipping up to cradle the back of your head, the other gripping your waist to keep you anchored against him.  

As his shirt fell open, your hands splayed against his bare chest, your fingertips brushing over his warm skin. The contrast between the cool air and his heat sent a shiver through him, his tone muscles tensing under your touch.  

You pulled back just enough to catch your breath, your eyes raking over him as you took in the sight of his now-exposed chest. His skin was pale smooth, his collarbone pronounced, and the faint sheen of sweat glistening under the low light made him look utterly irresistible.  

Sol’s lips twitched into a smirk at your lingering gaze, though his eyes were heavy with want. “Like what you see?” he teased, though his voice was uneven, betraying his arousal.  

Instead of answering, you leaned in again, your lips finding the hollow of his throat. You pressed open-mouthed kisses down the column of his neck, nipping at the sensitive skin as your hands continued their exploration. Sol tilted his head back slightly, giving you better access as a low growl escaped him.  

“You’re insatiable,” he muttered, his voice thick with desire. You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, a wicked smile playing on your lips. “And you’re complaining?” you shot back, your tone dripping with challenge.  

Sol’s hands slid up your sides, his thumbs grazing the edge of your ribs as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing yours again. “Not a chance,” he murmured against your mouth, before pulling you into another searing kiss.  

The kiss deepened, growing more fervent with each passing second. Your fingers tangled in his hair, the strands silky yet wild, as his grip on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against him. The heat of his bare chest against yours, the intoxicating rhythm of his lips moving over yours—it was overwhelming, drowning out every thought but him. Your breaths mingled, uneven and ragged, as you both surrendered to the storm of desire building between you.  

With deliberate boldness, your hand began a slow descent, sliding over his toned stomach to the waistband of his pants. While he remained engrossed in the kiss, you let your fingers drift lower, brushing against the hardness beneath his pants. A sharp intake of breath escaped Sol’s lips, his body tensing against yours. His grip faltered briefly, but his response was immediate.  

He broke the kiss, his forehead resting against yours, his heterochromatic eyes ablaze with unfiltered desire. His breath came in quick, shallow gasps as he tried to regain control. “You’re playing with fire,” he rasped, his voice a low, gravelly whisper, both warning and temptation.  

Instead of pulling away, his hands found your hips once more, his fingers digging in just enough to ground you, to anchor himself. He tilted his hips slightly, pressing into your touch as a shudder ran through him. His challenge hung in the air like a gauntlet thrown at your feet, daring you to keep going.  

Your lips curved into a sly smile, your voice laced with teasing defiance. “Then I’ll just have to handle the heat,” you murmured. Leaning closer, your breath ghosted over his ear as you added, “Didn’t you say I need to work on my brushwork?”  

With deliberate intent, you slid your hand along the curve of his waistband, unbuttoning his pants with practiced ease. Sol groaned low in his throat, the sound reverberating through his chest and into yours. His hands gripped your hips tighter, pulling you impossibly closer as if trying to meld you into him.  

“I didn’t mean… this,” he muttered, though his tone betrayed how much he wanted it. His lips found your neck, trailing heated kisses along your skin as he fought to keep his control intact. His body trembled beneath your touch, his breath hot and ragged against your throat.  

Your hand ventured lower, and as his pants gave way, you were met with the proof of his desire. The sight of his cock—pale like his skin, flushed with need, and curve glistening pink tip—sent a wave of heat through you. You couldn’t help but marvel at him, at how his body responded so wholly to you.  

Sol groaned again, his head falling back as he fought the urge to completely unravel. “F-Fuck this shit,” he muttered, his voice hoarse and raw. 

With a sudden burst of need, he grabbed your hand, his rough fingers intertwining with yours as he guided you to his cock, wrapping your hand around it. 

His eyes burned into yours, a silent plea and a command wrapped in one. “If you’re going to do this,” he growled, “then do it right. After all, I’m the tutor,”  

The juxtaposition of his firm grip and your softer touch sent shivers through him, his body responding instinctively to your every movement. He bit back a curse, his jaw clenched, yet his eyes remained locked on yours, filled with both vulnerability and hunger as he helps you move his cock up and down.

The way his hand enveloped yours, guiding you with deliberate control, sent a jolt of heat through your body. His skin was hot beneath your palm, pulsing with need, the intensity of it making your breath hitch. The sensation of being so intimately connected, of having him at your mercy, was intoxicating. Your lips curved into a sly, knowing smile as you met his gaze with a sultry intensity.  

"Then guide me, Sol," you murmured, voice low with a hint of teasing.  

His eyes darkened, his breath catching at your words. For a moment, it seemed as though he might lose his composure entirely, but instead, he pressed closer, the heat of his body radiating into yours. His hands tightened over yours, steady and commanding, as he guided your movements with aching precision.  

"Guide you?" he rasped, his voice rough with barely contained desire. "Gladly."  

His fingers wrapped firmly around yours, leading you in a slow, deliberate rhythm around his cock. Each movement was an exquisite torment, a maddening mix of control and surrender that left you craving more. His voice, low and gravelly, brushed over your skin like a caress. "Like this," he whispered.  

The feel of him beneath your touch was overwhelming, a mix of heat and tension that made your chest tighten and your pulse quicken. As his hand fell away, relinquishing control to you, the look in his eyes—half-lidded and burning with need—was almost too much to bear.  

Taking charge, you continued the motion, your strokes deliberate and teasing. Sol's breaths grew heavier, his head falling back slightly as he tried to stifle the low groans that escaped his lips. But he couldn’t hold back the quiet whines that followed, each sound unraveling you further.  

The weight of you on his lap, the way your hips shifted against him—whether intentional or not—drove him wild. His hands gripped your waist tightly as though grounding himself was the only way to keep himself from losing control—and you from falling.

His face flushed a deep red, his jaw tightening as his breaths came faster, his body trembling beneath you. His arousal was undeniable, glistening with beads of precum that caught the light as they slid down his length. The sight alone was enough to make your stomach tighten with desire, but it was the sounds he made—low, broken groans turning into quiet, breathless whimpers—that truly undid you.  

Sol’s tired yet desperate eyes met yours, silently begging for more, even as his body surrendered entirely to your touch. The vulnerability in his gaze was intoxicating, and you couldn’t help but feel a wicked thrill at the power you held over him. Every gasp, every shudder, every barely audible plea only pulled you deeper into the moment, the fire between you burning hotter with each passing second.  

You begin rudding the slit on his tip, dipping your finger on the pre-cum, smudging it across the tip, “A-ahh…” That alone sent a chilling feeling down his spine. Then you wonder for a second.

Just how far you could take this? 

And, as if he could read her mind, Sol’s voice was broken into another gasp at the feel of her finger on his tip. You smirked, leaning in close to his ear. “Does that feel good, Sol?” You smirked, leaning in close to his ear.

Sol let out a strangled, guttural moan, his body shuddering at your touch, his breathing labored and strained. He gripped the edge of the stool as if holding on for dear life, his knuckles turning white. "Y-Yeah," he managed to gasp, his voice trembling the words out.

"Feels... so good." His head fell back, his eyes fluttering closed as you continued your ministrations, his body completely at your mercy.

As he tried his best to muffle the pathetic whimpers that were threatening to escape his lips with his free hand covering his mouth, Sol was coming undone, every touch, every gentle caress pulling him closer and closer to the edge. And he couldn’t get enough of how your delicate fingers all wrapped nicely around his cock.

Hearing his voice, broken and needy, sent a thrill coursing through you, intensifying your desire for him. This side of Sol—a man usually so composed and enigmatic—was uncharted territory, and you were quickly losing yourself in the discovery. 

You leaned back slightly, just enough to drink in the sight of him, a teasing smirk playing on your lips. “Just good?” you purred, your voice dripping with mock innocence. “Or does it feel better than that?”  

“Pumpkin,” he rasped, his voice deep and trembling with barely contained restraint. It took everything in him to hold back, but the way your sharp, half-lidded eyes bore into him, your smirk only widening as your hand pumped him faster—it was driving him to the edge. “I-I’m close, please… please...” He moaned,

“Oops, sorry~” you cooed, amusement dancing in your tone as if you weren’t purposefully unraveling him by slowing down. 

Sol’s body jolted under your touch, another strangled moan escaping his lips as his grip on the stool tightened. He was trembling, the effort to maintain control wearing thin. His breaths came in ragged gasps, each one sharper than the last. “Come on… Please…” He whines, “Let me cum, I want to cum… Will you let me, pumpkin?” He begged.

His breathing is ragged, tiny beads of sweat rolling down his cheek, some of his hair sticking to his face as you pump his cock—dare you say, he looks hot like this. 

You grin again, that same slow, cat-got-the-canary sort of smile from before. Are you enjoying this? Maybe it’s just a teeny bit too much. 

“Mmh, I don’t know,” You say, tone light and mocking, considering it while pumping him faster. “Are you sure you’ve been good enough to deserve that, Sol~?”

Sol's face flushed crimson as he groaned under your touch, his body reacting with an involuntary twitch. He could barely hold himself together, the effort nearly breaking him. Your teasing, the way you toyed with him like this. It was enough to drive him insane with need. And yet... he loves it. 

“Please,” he panted, his voice choked with need. “Please, pumpkin... don't tease me anymore.”

You grin, your breath catching in your throat for a brief moment at the sound of his pleading. He’s so desperate, and again—it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

Before you get to reply, you are stuck watching, listening to him. With one last stroke, he came. You feel a warm, sticky substance splatter against your face, and you gasp in surprise, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment. When you open it back up, you see your hands are covered in… his cum.

He whines, trembling under your touch. “Fuck…” He grumbles… before chuckling breathlessly, his chest rising and falling with each ragged inhale. He looked at you, his eyes darkened with desire, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"You're a tease, you know that...?" he murmured, his voice still hoarse. He reaches up, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers leaving a smudge of his cum on your skin.

You laugh softly, eyes fluttering closed at the touch of his fingers against your face. You can still taste him on your lips. “I’m aware, and I love it,” You say, your tongue darting out to lick a stray bit of his cum away, “Such a good boy.”

Sol's heart skipped a beat at the sight of your tongue running across your lips. He could hardly contain himself, his body still thrumming with a mix of need and satisfaction.

"You're... you're going to be the death of me, Pumpkin," he said, strained and thick. "I swear... you're going to drive me insane." Before you could respond, his hands shot forward, gripping your wrists roughly, halting your movements. “You know, It takes a true artist to know how to use their hands,” he muttered through clenched teeth, his frustration and desire boiling over. 

“Right now, I feel inspired. With your body so close to mine—” his gaze flicked to you, sharp and burning, “—you gonna feel so good once I get through painting you.”  

His words sent a shiver down your spine, his grip on your wrists firm and electrifying. Yet, you didn’t back down. Instead, your smirk deepened, and you tilted your head, feigning innocence. “Aww, it’s cute when you get all frustrated like that.” you quipped, resuming your teasing pace despite his attempt to rein you in.  

Sol’s jaw clenched, a growl rumbling deep in his chest as his eyes blazed with irritation and helpless desire. “Teasing me like this,” he gasped, his voice cracking under the weight of his need, “You deserve to be punished.”  

“Sorry? Punished?” You repeated, arching a brow, your smirk faltering for a moment as curiosity mingled with arousal.

His hands released your wrists, moving instead to the hem of your shirt. Slowly, deliberately, he began sliding it upward, his touch igniting sparks along your skin.  

He lifted your shirt, his movements were unhurried yet firm, tossing it aside without a second thought. The cool air kissed your bare skin, making you shiver, but it was nothing compared to the heat in Sol’s gaze. His eyes roamed over your body unabashedly, dark with want, his intensity sending your pulse racing.  

The way he looked at you—devoured you—was intoxicating. You felt your breath hitch, your skin tingling under his gaze as if he were leaving invisible marks with every flick of his eyes. Sol leaned in slightly, his voice low and gravelly, sending shivers cascading down your spine. “Now let’s see if you’re ready for what you started.”  

The lace of your black bra barely had a chance to tease him before Sol unclasped it with uncharacteristic haste. His breath caught in his throat as the fabric fell away, leaving your bare skin exposed to the cool air. The curve of your shoulders, the elegant line of your neck, and the sight of your hardened nipples sent a shiver of desire coursing through him.  

You were breathtaking, more so than any image his mind could have conjured. The reality of you—your warmth, your movement, the way you bared yourself so freely—was utterly consuming.

As you slipped off the remaining layers with deliberate ease, Sol found himself captivated, unable to look away. "You're staring," you teased, your voice low and sultry, tinged with amusement. "See something you like?"  

He tried to respond, but the words caught in his throat, his mind blank save for the raw need coursing through him. He swallowed hard, his gaze trailing shamelessly over your body, lingering on every curve, every delicate line of skin.  

He wanted to touch, to claim, to make you his in every sense. But he hesitated, almost afraid of the depth of his desire. The way you looked, so confident and alluring, made him feel as though he was standing on the edge of a precipice, and all he wanted was to jump.  

Sol's hands moved almost without thought, tracing the length of your legs, the curve of your knee, the delicate arch of your foot. His reverence for you bordered on worship, a devotion so intense it frightened him. He had tried to keep it at bay, but now that he had you like this, so open and vulnerable, he felt the weight of his restraint snapping.  

He was a man who could get lost in his own obsession, and with you, it was dangerously easy. Sol didn’t just want you—he craved you, a hunger so profound it threatened to unravel him entirely.  

With trembling hands, he slid your pencil skirt down your hips, the fabric pooling on the floor with a careless toss. He left the lace of your black panties on, unable to resist the way they hugged your body so perfectly. His lips found your neck, pressing kisses against the sensitive skin as he let his hands explore.  

The only thing separating you now was the thin layer of fabric between you, damp with evidence of your arousal. Sol’s thumb moved instinctively, pressing gently against the damp spot, and the soft gasp you let out was like fuel to the fire burning inside him.  

Your reaction sent his heart racing, his body trembling with restrained need. But when you whispered his name, your voice breathless and trembling, it pulled him back from the brink.  

“Sol,” you murmured, your voice steady despite the racing of your heart. “Wait… you’re going a little too fast.”  

The words hung in the air like a sudden stillness before a storm. Sol froze, his hands pausing mid-motion on your body. His breathing was ragged, his chest rising and falling heavily as he pulled back, his intense gaze locking onto yours. A mix of frustration and unspoken yearning flickered in his eyes, the tension between you crackling like electricity.  

“Too fast?” he echoed, his voice hoarse and tinged with disbelief. He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “You’re the one who started the fire, said you can handle it, and now you’re telling me to slow down?”  

He let out a soft, strained laugh, the sound laced with both amusement and restraint, as though he was trying to tether himself to reality. Still, he relented, easing the intensity of his movements.

Slowly, he reached down, unzipping his jeans and pushing them just enough to loosen their grip, his shirt discarded in the process. His gaze softened, though the heat in his eyes remained, a smoldering flame that refused to extinguish.  

“This is still your punishment, Pumpkin,” he murmured, a crooked smile playing at his lips as he leaned in, brushing a featherlight kiss to your lips.  

The kiss was different this time—rough, more forceful. His lips trailed from your mouth to your jaw and down to your neck, each kiss feeling like a vow unspoken. The world outside faded, leaving only the two of you suspended at this moment. He moved further, his lips exploring your collarbone and sternum with reverence, his warmth leaving a trail of fire across your skin.  

His hands trembled slightly as they cupped your chest, his touch reverent but firm, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh like he was trying to memorize the feel of you. His breath hitched as he brushed his thumbs over your nipples, the gentle pressure sending a shiver down your spine.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispered, more to himself than to you, his voice thick with wonder. “So damn pretty.”  

Your mind swirled with the weight of his words, his touch, his presence. The heat between you was overwhelming, your body arching into his hands as he explored with care and devotion. Each kiss, each touch, sent waves of sensation rippling through you, leaving you breathless.  

“Sol…” you breathed, your voice trembling with both hesitation and longing. “Please…”  

But instead of heeding your plea, he pressed forward, his lips finding the sensitive peak of your chest. He kissed you there with aching tenderness, his tongue tracing slow circles as his hand mirrored his movements. A soft moan escaped your lips, and he hummed in approval, his grip steadying you as you began to unravel under his touch.  

He paused only to meet your gaze, his eyes filled with something deeper than desire—an emotion too profound for words.

He quickly shifted you, his hands firm yet careful as he turned you toward the painting you and he both made. The cool air against your heated skin made you shiver, the contrast heightening your awareness of his every movement.  

He moved behind you, his breath warm against your neck. For a moment, he hesitated, his fingers brushing down your skin to the fabric of your panties. He slid them down slowly, his movements deliberate, almost reverent, before throwing them on the floor.

He forced you to lean on your back against his firm chest, the back of your head resting against his shoulder as his hands stayed on your hips. 

Soon his hand slid beneath your chin, tilting your face upward with a tenderness that made your heart flutter. His gaze locked onto yours, a tempest of emotions swirling in his red-orange eyes—desire, restraint, and something unspoken yet intense.

“Sorry, Pumpkin,” he murmured, his voice a low, velvet whisper, “but I need you.”  

He adjusted your position, the shift sending a jolt of sensation through you as his cock settled snugly against your bare heat. A soft, broken sound escaped your lips—a breathy, high-pitched “A-Ah!”—and your half-lidded eyes met his. In his fiery gaze, the pupils seemed to ripple, almost heart-shaped, as though they reflected his overwhelming hunger for you.  

Sol began to move, rubbing cock rather fast and rough against your cunt, his hips pressing forward until he found that sweet, electrifying spot. Your voice spilled out again, light and melodic, each sound like a chime caught on the breeze. His movements became more assured, each thrust purposeful as he reveled in the way your body responded to his.  

He had you now—completely, utterly his.

Your bodies melded together in perfect rhythm, your breaths and sighs tangling as if they were one. Sol’s senses were flooded with you: the subtle rise and fall of your chest, the faint tension in your spine that dissolved beneath his touch. Each reaction, each sound you made, only drove him deeper into the intoxicating realization that you were exactly where he wanted you—wrapped in his embrace, utterly lost in him.

He has you in his grasp, but he wants to hold onto you tighter. 

He focuses on where your lower bodies meet, tongue poked between his lips and furrow in his brow. Drives his hard cock rubbing against your bare cunt, catching the crown into your clit until you’re shaking underneath him. Sol can’t think anymore, lost in the feeling of wonderful pleasure. 

If it feels so good like this, being inside you might be too much.

So close in proximity that Sol can hear each of your short pants. Erratic and almost thoughtlessly driven by one single thing: pleasing you. Feeling each other, all wrapped up together. 

Drawing out those moans as he pinches your nipples at your tits, making you feel how hard he is. How pent-up, needy, and fucking horny he is all for you. Just humping your soft, sweet cunt makes Sol want to risk everything he’s got with you.

The push and pull of too much and not enough at the same time. It’s so fucking euphoric. Your cunt keeps wetter and wetter, and Sol doesn’t know if it’s you or him - his pre-cum dribbling agasint your needy cunt. He can feel your pussy pulse and tremble. Your spine goes stiff, and Sol pulls away to look at you.

You’re so pretty. You’re on edge, in complete bliss, and so fucking pretty only for his eyes to see.

“A-ah, Sol—please, wait,” you gasped, your words trembling as pleasure coursed through you. Sol froze for a moment, his eyes wide and blazing, the sound of your plea cutting through the haze of his need. Frustration flickered across his face, mingling with something softer, something more conflicted.

He didn’t want to wait—couldn’t—not with the way your body moved beneath him, flushed and trembling, your breath hitching with every touch.  

Your mind was a haze of heat and sensation, your body barely keeping up with the overwhelming pleasure that had left you spiraling. And when you both reached that peak together—his cum spilling over as yours soaked on tophim in return—it was a moment that burned itself into his memory.

A first—he made you come with him. The sight of you arching against him, your cries echoing in his ears, left him undone, his breath ragged and unsteady as he trembled, listening to your pretty moans.

Sol’s hands remained firm on your hips, anchoring you as his gaze devoured you. Again, the image of you—writhing, broken, and entirely his—was seared into his mind, a memory he wanted to relive over and over again. His heart pounded as he leaned forward, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was both desperate and adoring, his tongue teasing yours in a way that left you breathless.  

“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, I need…” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and raw with emotion. His nose nuzzled against your cheek before he kissed the corner of your mouth, his words pouring out in a slow, deliberate cadence.  

“I want to see it again,” he said, his tone steady but trembling with need. “I want you to cum again, Pumpkin.”  

The vulnerability in his voice stirred something inside you, but your body was already at its limit. You pulled back slightly, your breath still uneven as your gaze met his. “Sol, I... I don’t think I can,” you admitted softly, your voice tinged with exhaustion.  

His eyes darkened the fire in them dimming for a moment, replaced by something closer to concern. His hands softened their grip, and he leaned back just enough to study your face, his expression caught between worry and restraint. “Did I hurt you?” he asked gently, his voice quieter now, though the tension in his body remained.  

You shook your head quickly, your words coming in a rush. “No, no, you didn’t. I just—”  

“Then you can keep going,” he interrupted, his tone almost pleading, his patience unraveling at the edges. His gaze was intense and unwavering, and you felt your resolve waver under the weight of his need.  

“Sol,” you tried again, shaking your head as you placed a hand on his chest. “I’m tired. You’ve... you’ve worn me out. And you’ve got to be tired too—don’t you think? What about our project?”  

His brows furrowed as he let out a frustrated groan, his body taut with tension. “It doesn’t matter,” he muttered, his voice low and gravelly. “It can wait.”  

Your breath caught as his hands slid down your sides, gripping your hips again and pulling you against him yet again. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his lips grazing your skin. “You look so damn good like this,” he murmured, his voice tinged with reverence. “Messy and perfect—covered in our cum.”  

A shiver ran through you as his hands explored your body, his touch deliberate and reverent. "How much more should I paint you?" He kissed a trail down your neck and shoulders, his lips soft yet possessive. The warmth of his breath against your skin sent a fresh wave of heat through you, despite your exhaustion.  

“Sol, please,” you whispered, though the words lacked conviction.  

He didn’t respond, his silence heavy with meaning as his hands moved lower, his touch firm but gentle, as though committing every curve and contour of your body to memory. His fingers brushed over your thighs, then between them, the featherlight touch making you tremble.  

When he finally touched you—his fingers tracing over the sensitive folds of your cunt, slick and sticky from your shared cum—a sharp gasp escaped your lips. He groaned softly, the sound vibrating against your skin as he focused on you, his movements both precise and overwhelming.  

“Can you feel it?” he whispered, his voice rough but laced with tenderness. “How much I want you, need you? How much I love you?”  

The words struck something deep within you, and though you were overwhelmed, you couldn’t deny the magnetic pull of his touch, his voice, his very presence. He didn’t need to say it aloud; every caress, every glance, told you everything he couldn’t put into words.  

Sol was an artist, and you were caught in the vision of it—a dangerous one. You’re trembling with anticipation. A sense of contentment washes over Sol as his breath fans over your neck. 

Sol can feel how worked up you are. You’re quiet and tense. Some part of him wants to leave you like that, waiting, but the other part of him wants to give you everything you’ve ever asked for. He gives into the latter because that’s what he wants more. 

He used his free hand that was grounded you to lap, reaching down to lift his now hard cock agasint your bare cunt with a deep sigh, and a pleased hum.

He loves the way you smell, the scent of sex and arousal mixed with the fancy soaps you keep in your bathroom. 

Your pussy is as pretty as you are, a sheen of arousal all along your slit. Your clit peeks through, swelling from need. Sol uses his tip to kiss your opening without thinking. He starts slow. Lays his cock flat against the seam of your cunt before dragging it up and down once, rubbing you again however, this time, it almost slips inside of you. 

You lose a little of what little control you had. Your body jerks back against him, and you bite back a moan. Sol felt that—he can’t get enough of you. Neither can you.

He moans in appreciation, repeating the gesture as he pulls your pussy closer. He gazes and looks down at you. You’re so pretty it makes him want to please. He repeats this over and over, grinding on your clit on his hard and needy cock, throbbing against the soft, smooth muscle as he gains a sort of rhythm.

He gauges your reaction when he tries something new, adding pressure until you’re squirming underneath him. When you start growing noisier, Sol knows he’s hit the right pace. 

And he stays like that for a bit, your pussy soaking more of his cock. He adjusts himself slightly, rubbing his fingers between your folds. You let out a soft "A-ah" above him, making him want to laugh. He keeps at it, his fingers sliding far enough to tease your entrance. Your hole is squeezing without him having done much at all, his middle finger teasing and prodding. 

“Sol stop! Don’t t-tease so much,” You pant. Sol nearly blows again, listening to you talk like that. He didn’t think you could be so cute. 

Sol couldn’t help but smirk, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. "But I love teasing you," he whispered against your skin, "hearing you pant and moan, wanting more but not quite getting what you need."

His finger kept playing around your entrance, just kind of going in circles on your sensitive bits. "Besides, it's fun to watch you squirm to my touch," he said, sliding his middle finger into you like it was nothing. It's not that hard. You're so wet for him, it's crazy. Your walls feel super soft and inviting, all syrupy when he touches them. 

Sol loves the way your cunt feels, taking his time to go in and out slowly enough that the tension just fades away. He really gets in there with his middle finger, and when it looks like you're not tense anymore—he goes and adds another one. He's doing both at the same time—and there's this moment where it's just a whole lot of sensation for you.

Eventually, it stops being just a sensation, and it shifts into pleasure. He presses his fingers into you hard, really massaging that soft spongy spot, he can feel you lean forward, nearly lurching forward.

Your back arches, mouth hanging open, “S-Sol!” You moaned.

Another feeling of pride spreads through his chest, his whole body. He wants you to let go again just like this. While he fingers your weepy cunt—he wants to see how far he can push. How wet you can get before he ever gets inside. 

His fingers can feel the way your walls tighten up so hard and the tremors of the aftermath. Your back curves against him as you cum again closing your thighs, hard for him, and he can feel it.

He can feel you cum over his cock once more. He can see you, see the pleasure crash into you like a tidal wave. A second. Sol made you cum twice in a row, this time without him. You practically pry him off as you ride the wave of your high. You sighed deeply as you watched Sol lick his fingers. "You taste so sweet, all because of me~" He breathed out, looking down at you.

“Are you done?” You asked, tiredly wore out.

Sol's eyes darkened at your question, his body still thrumming with a unsatisfied need. He took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind.

"Done?" he echoed, his voice rough. "I'm far from done, Pumpkin.” He sits you up on his lap, fixing you to completely lay back naked and beautiful, tugging open your thighs for your cunt to rest on top of his cock once more. “Sol I can’t please.” You quickly reached onto his shaft, stopping him. 

Sol's mind went blank when you touched him, the sensation sending a shiver down his spine. His breath hitched, and he looked up at you through hazy eyes, his body quivering with need. He wanted you, desperately, but he also knew he had to stop.

"Pumpkin," he panted, his voice strained. "I... I don’t think I can handle any more of your teasing.” He said with heart eyes, “Just let this happen, please.”

His tone is so needy, so desperate, and it shoots straight through you, making your body shiver. You can feel just how badly he wants you, needs you. Already itching to do it a third. 

"I-I wasn't trying to tease you,” You whisper, your voice soft and shaky. “I’m just... I’m just tired, Sol. I am.” 

You try to pull back, even just a little, to put some space between them, but he's holding you tight against his back, “We’re almost there. Just one more…” He breathes out, stroking his cock, guiding the tip to your cunt opening, ‘I wanna feel you…” He mumbled, slowly pushing himself inside, “A-Ah, Sol!” You pleaded, trying to close your legs, but he forced them open.

“Don’t fight it.” He warned, pushing himself in. Your cunt squeezes your opening, not letting his cock inside before he goes in frustration while biting your neck to distract you, “Ahhh!” You mown in pain.

His hands gripped you tightly, anchoring you to him as though he couldn’t bear to let you go. He was completely undone, his desire for you eclipsing everything else, his body responding to the need pulsing through him.

In the haze of his hunger, he vaguely registers the absence of protection, but it barely registers in his mind, overshadowed by the overwhelming need to have you. A fleeting moment of tension flares before it melts into pure, white-hot pleasure, every inch of being inside you sent him aflame.

You feel incredible—like nothing he’s ever known. His arms tighten around your body, pulling you closer, coaxing you down another inch on his cock. His lips find your neck again, this time with more urgency, his teeth sinking more into your skin as he fights to hold himself back.

The taste of you, the feel of you—it’s almost too much. He wants to make this last. He won’t let it slip away too quickly. Sol’s not ready to lose himself just yet; he wants to savor every second of this.

Sol lowers you steadily until all of him is inside. Your expression is slightly pinched, and your whole body trembles, uncomfortable, almost in pain as you adjust to his size. You arch your back, hands reaching to take root in his hair. “P-Pumpkin!” He moaned. The sensation of tension on his scalp makes his cock twitch inside you. 

The pressure is almost too much, making you gasp in the air through your teeth. You hold on tight to his arms, “Oh god,” You moan, your head falling back. “You’re... you’re actually intense. I can feel...” Your voice trails off, replaced by a whimper. Every nerve feels like it’s on fire, overwhelmed.

Before you get a chance to adjust to the feeling, he picks your hips and slams them back down on his cock without breaking a sweat. You nearly scream, your hands immediately reach down, squeezing his wrists, trying to make him slow down. He gives you a wry grin; he almost wants you to plead for your mercy. 

“Aw.. want me to go slower?” Sol asked, “You have to beg for it~” Your eyes widen, and another soft gasp slips past your lips, your body tensing against him. The pressure and the fullness are almost too much, overwhelming in the best way possible.

He feels so good, so good...

You nod slightly, your voice coming out as a whimper. “Please,” You whispered, “Just stop, please...” Your body shakes as you speak. “Too much... too much at once...”

Sol's eyes gleam with a feral look, his body trembling with the effort to control himself. He pauses for a moment, his hands stilling on your hips, his breathing ragged.

"Too much for you, huh?" he murmurs, his voice low and hoarse. "You can't handle it, can you, Pumpkin?"

There's a hint of challenge in his tone, a hint of desire to keep going, to push your limits even further.

Repeating the motion but slower showing his hint of worry. He knows he needs to be careful, rocking you steadily onto his cock. The pace is controlled and smooth, a rhythmic pass of your hips over and over. 

Your insides threaten to dissolve him whole, turn him liquid from the inside out as he makes you ride him in reverse, moving his hips up and down while keeping you in place.

He watches as your breasts bounce as he leans forward, his chin coming to rest against your neck just enough for Sol to see the concentration etched upon your face. He watches you as you discover your pleasure in this moment—it makes you look utterly captivating. The feeling of him is nothing short of exquisite.

He shifts his hands to your hips to pull you closer to him, not changing the rhythm he wanted as you hug him tight.

The room resounds with the sound of skin meeting skin: a sticky smack as your body strikes Sol's thighs with enough force. Every nerve in his body is on edge, alive with sensation. His hand glides gently before your body, teasing your clit as he urges you to ride him. 

Sol forces as he feels you again, a new surge of excitement drenching him. He's becoming more sensitive to the times when you approach your climax. Your wetness is so invitingly greasy for him because of him. It is so messy that it's running down his length down onto his balls, turning his pants into a wet puddle from underneath you. 

He feels you stiffen in expectation—little contractions that bring you to the brink. His breathing comes in quick, shallow bursts as he watches you chase your climax, his hands gripping your hips as if to bring you even closer.

He knows he can't hold on much longer, the way you feel, the way you look riding him, your smell—god your pretty moans. It’s all too much. But he pushes down the rising tide, wanting to prolong this moment

His voice came out in a strained whisper, his grip tightening as he spoke. "I'm gonna cum soon. I want you to come right after me, yeah? Can you do that for me, Pumpkin?" He gently lifted your chin, locking eyes with you. His gaze searched your face, watching as your expression blurred with the overwhelming sensations.

Your mind felt hazy like everything was fading into a fog, too overwhelmed to form coherent thoughts. The pressure building inside you was almost unbearable—so huge, so intense, hitting you all in the right spots.

"Yes," you whispered, your voice barely audible, filled with a desperate need. "Yes, yes, I can do that... please, Sol, please..."

You could feel his desire building with you, like an unstoppable wave crashing over both of you. "Please, please, please..." You whispered it over and over, lost in the need for him, unable to say anything else.

Sol's eyes blaze with a renewed intensity, the plea in your voice driving him over the edge. His hands tighten on your hips, his body trembling with the effort of holding back.

"Pumpkin..." he pants, the words almost catching in his throat. "Pumpkin, I... I can't hold on much longer."

Your eyes are wild, and your body is trembling, every muscle tight and tense, “S-Sol, ah…”  You laugh, breathy. The third time you cum is less intense than you thought. It’s a shorter wave, a softer sort of orgasm that seems to ease you more than it does anything else, more hazely and oversensitive.

But you can feel still his cock inside of you, how close he is, how close he’s been. Even still, you clench around his cock hard—getting so much wetter than you were a minute ago. 

"Ah, f-fuck..." Sol growls, the sound catching in his throat. He's right on the brink now, his body straining with the effort of holding back. And then your muscles clench around him, the sensation enough to drive him over the edge. 

"Looks like I have to catch up, hold on..." Sol moans, his voice a low, gutt, picking up your thighs, “Sol! Wait—what are—!!” He loses himself completely, slamming himself inside you rather rough and fast, his balls slapping against your cunt.

He wants more of you—all of you—after all, you can take more of his paint, you are his true canvas.

Finally giving into the sensation that’s been drowning him, He feels it in his entire lower body. Every atom of him finally catches up to the high of the release. It’s so intense when he opens his mouth, nothing comes out than heavy breaths. His eyes shoot open, then go back closed. 

The coil in his stomach loosens more slowly at first than all at once, like a car crash. When Sol finally cums he sees nothing but white hearts in his vision. He can’t scream, can’t speak—so he holds onto you tight and finishes inside you, cock deeply buried inside of your pussy. So much cum spurts out of him, thick and hot painting your walls, so much in fact that it was leaking out of you, dripping down.

Sol tried his best to keep all of it inside of you, as it'd ruin his version. He didn’t even try to pull out, he rode out his orgasm with heart eyes, still fucking you slowly, wanting to keep all of himself—and cum, tucked deeply inside of you.

The sensation lingered long after the moment had passed. When Sol finally opened his eyes again, he found you collapsed against him—your body wrecked, spent, trembling from the overwhelming intensity.

You felt achingly sensitive, every nerve alive and raw, yet your mind remained a hazy blur, struggling to grasp onto anything, while your body felt heavy, as though you were floating just above the surface of consciousness. Everything was a gentle, blissful silence, a welcome respite from the chaos.  

Just how long had it lasted? How many times had he brought you to the edge? The last time he counted, it was three, maybe more after what he pulled. He couldn’t be sure. The last clear memory he had was of you, twitching on top of him, your back pressed firmly against his chest, every part of you quaking from the intensity.  

Sol took a slow, steadying breath, his own body still trembling from the exertion. He looked down at you, your limp form lying against him, completely drained. The exhaustion in your body was palpable, and in that moment, a part of him realized he’d pushed you farther than he’d intended.  

“Pumpkin...” he whispered, his voice soft and concerned as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer into the warmth of his embrace.

“You did so good for me... You okay?” He waited, but you didn’t answer.  

Your mind was still foggy, still trying to make sense of the world. Words felt distant, impossible to grasp and form into something coherent. Your body felt like it belonged to someone else—limp, exhausted, utterly spent.  

A soft, unintelligible noise escaped your lips, a simple affirmation that you were still with him, still connected. It was enough to make him nuzzled you into his chest, his body instinctively seeking the comfort of his warmth of his wonderful creation.

Sol chuckled quietly, a playful smile tugging at his lips. He knew exactly what he’d done to you—how thoroughly he had worn you out—and he couldn’t help but feel a sense of quiet pride.

You were his, finally.

He gently played with your hair, twisting it with his fingers, his touch tender as he held you against him, giving you time to recover, knowing you needed it before you two could complete the art project that’s—he thinks that’s due tomorrow?

Oh well… if you don’t wake up in time he’ll complete it all for you.

“You’re adorable like this,” he murmured softly, his voice low and affectionate heart-shaped eyes, holding you tight against him.

All this... started from a simple brushstroke. 

[pamsimmer]

When I made "Lunar" someone asked for a legacy challenge for human sims. So I finally wrote one!

Since some people don't like big legacies because it takes forever to finish, I made another small legacy! Only 5 gens.

If you know my stories from twitter or my "pamsimmerstories" you know I usually use a lot of adult themes and this is not different, so be aware this can be a little dark.

TW: Spouse death, while giving birth; Drug Use, alcohol and other drugs; Child Abuse, Neglect; Infetility

LEGACY CHALLENGE: "Dream Odyssey"

Basic Rules:

Start as a Young Adult - any gender you want

Normal/Long lifespan (which one you prefer)

You can use freerealestate cheat if you want to begin.

When I put ( / ) is because you can choose what you prefer or if you don’t have said pack you can choose the base game one.

Colors are not mandatory, but it could be fun?!

Requirements: Cottage Living, University, City Living, Nifty Knitting, Horse Ranch, Get Famous, Get Together, Snowy Scape, Island Living, Seasons, Parenthood.

Mods recommendations (Not required):

McCommand Center,

UI Cheats,

Long Distance Learning,

RPO.

Basemantal Drugs

Generation 1: “Dandelions” by Ruth B.

You moved from your parents to live in a big city and go to your dream college (San Myshuno Institute)*. You’ve always wanted to be a doctor/veterinarian and this was finally happening!

One day you met the love of your life in between classes (preferably someone you met that is also at uni) you get married, but one day you caught them cheating and you feel like this is the end of the world.

So you leave everything and go to Henford on Bagley and become a farmer. You meet someone that makes you open up again and you two have a beautiful family.

*if you don’t want to use mods like the ”Long Distance Learning” by Ravasheen, you can just pretend you’re going there living in San Myshuno

Traits: Good, Animal Enthusiast/Loves the Outdoors, The last one you pick, to make things interesting, pick a bad trait like high maintenance

Career: Start as University Student in San Myshuno (you can finish it and start the career or you can just drop university in the middle of your term); End up as a farmer in Henford

Skills: Logic/Vetenerian and Cross-Stitch

Hobby: Cross-Stitch or Knitting

Aspiration: Country Caretaker

Relationship: fall in love at university, get cheated on, runaway to Henford and meet someone new. You can have children with the first one if you want to or you can wait until you meet the second sim. It’s up to you.

Color: Green/Yellow

Generation 2: “High” by Miley Cyrus

You grew up in the middle of a bunch of animals, your parent was a nature freak and you became one as well. But your kind of animal is a bit different from your parent. You love horses and you dream in live at Chestnut Ridge and have your own horse and participate in competitions and earn money from it.

You find love, but when your wife is giving birth to your baby, she dies (your sim could be a woman and you use cheats to make her pregnant and if you don’t use mods as RPO/Pandasama you can also cheat to kill the sim).

[The Sims 4 killing cheats: [death.toggle true - kill your Sim] I've never used it, so I don't know if it really works]

So you see yourself as a single parent juggling between parenting and taking care of your horse and participating of competitions.

Traits: Horse Lover, Rancher, the last trait you choose.

Career: Autonomous as Horse Competitor, you can try odd jobs as well

Skills: Riding, Painting/Nectar Making

Hobby: Painting/Nectar Making

Aspiration: Championship Rider

Relationship: Meet someone, become a widow/er. You can find love again if you wish.

Color: Orange

Generation 3: “No Love In LA” by Palaye Royale

When you were born your mother died and you never met her. Your other parent was always busy with his horses and competitions that you now hate Chestnut.

You want more for your life. As soon as you age up, you go to Del Sol Valley and you’re finally able to follow your dream of becoming a star! You want to be a famous actor/actress. But not everything is like you thought it would be, you thought you would become a 5 star celebrity quickier than you did. But you never give up.

Find a celebrity and get married to them just for fame (I guess you’re gonna need cheats for them to meet).

[Modify Relationship

You'll need the full name of your Sim and the celebrity Sim (or vice versa). If it doesn't work, try " LTR_Friendship_Main" at the end.] (I also never tested this one...but in case you don't have mods, try this)

One day you’re gonna meet someone who’s a nobody and fall in love, you’re gonna cheat on your partner and get pregnant/get someone pregnant.

You have two choices:

leave your spouse and be with your love or

stay in a unhappy marriage and pretend the cheating never happened (if your sim is a male, never talk to the pregnant sim again and one day a child shows up at your door, this is gonna be the heir. And if your sims is a female, pretend the kid is your husband’s child. It doesn’t matter, you’re gonna fail as a parent no matter what).

Traits: Self-Assured, Ambitious, and a bad trait of your choosing

Career: Actor

Skills: Acting, Dancing, Photography

Hobby: Photography and also dancing, go to nightclubs often, drink a lot (if you don’t play with mods pretend your sims is an alcoholic, if you play with mods like basemental your sim is definitely an alcoholic and maybe had a drug addiction, let’s go dark here)

Aspiration: Master Actor

Relationship: Marry for fame and cheat on your partner and get pregnant of impregnate someone this is how your heir is gonna be made.

Color: Red

Generation 4: “Flares” by The Script

Your parent should never be a parent.

You grew up in a spolight because of your parent, but you hate it. Everything is so fucked up and you just want to run away as far as possible.

When you become a teen, you're going to run away from home and go to Mt Komorebi, drop from school and work in a part time job.

To scape your own mind you start a few hobbies such as snowboarding/skiing/climbing.

When you’re young adult you meet someone while doing one of those things and you two fall in love. You two start a family and are very happy.

Traits: Adventurous, Loner, and a trait of your preference

Career: Teen: Part Time Job; Young Adult: Salaryperson

Skills: Two of these: (You can choose: Snowboarding/Skiing/Climbing)

Hobby: Choose two from 3 (Snowboarding/Skiing/Climbing)

Aspiration: Extreme Sports Enthusiast

Relationship: Find love when your sim is a young adult and this sim is gonna be actually happy :)

Color: Grey

Generation 5: “Light” by Sleeping At Last

Your parents were loving and you loved Mt Komorebi, but you feel like you need to run away from the cold mountains of Mt Komorebi.

When you grow up you want to live in a summery place, so you choose Sulani.

You fall in love more than once, but your relationships never work. You’re also infertile, but you want a kid so baaaad, so you decide to adopt one after years of trying.

You're going to raise a kid alone, maybe get yourself a dog as well? You want to be the best parent someone could be.

Traits: Family Oriented, Child of the Ocean, and a third trait of your choosing

Career: Any of the freelancer careers

Skills: Parenting, Flower Arrenging/Singing

Hobby: Flower Arrenging/Singing

Aspiration: Superparent

Relationship: All your relationships will fail, no matter how hard you try. One day you finally realize it and just accept that you’re going to be alone and you can be happy like this. Then you adopt a child (could be a baby if you want to) and maybe a pet as well.

Color: Blue

[eljeebee]

It's Isabella Manalo!

Sim submission for @changingplumbob for the bachelorette challenge she's organizing!

She's an aspiring Musical Genius, who was born in Tartosa and raised in Del Sol Valley!

Belle is a cousin of Beatrice Valderama, renowned model and now-girlfriend of a Vanderburg Royal, Lord Seamus II. She loves her dear cousin very much, even though Belle had been compared to Bea a lot of times. She doesn't hold it against her cousin though, and she tries her best to get all (and deserving) spotlight when it comes to her career as a singer.

Unfortunately, trying to live and get other people's attention to her work gets her frustrated that she became a hot-headed person. Still, this hot-headedness has driven her to become an ambitious music lover. No matter how many times she tries getting inspired from her birthplace and in her hometown she knew that there's just one thing that Belle thinks that she lacks: a subject, or a muse, if you will, that she could dedicate her music to.

Profile

Name: Isabella Manalo

Traits: Ambitious, Music Lover, Hot-Headed, Muser

Aspiration: Musical Genius

Identity/Orientation: Cis female, Demisexual, She/Her

Eye color: Brown

Birthplace: Tartosa

Resides in: Mainly in Del Sol Valley; Tartosa on Holidays

Likes: Dancing, Writing, DJ Mixing, Guitar, Piano, Singing, Wellness, Orange, Red, Yellow, Deep Thoughts, Stories, Affection, Discussing Hobbies, Discussing Interests, Gossip, Complaints, Luxe Decor, Modern Decor, Mid Century Decor, Country Fashion, Polished Fashion, Preppy Fashion, Idealist Sims, Emotional Decision-Makers, Cerebral Sims, Hard-Working Sims, Soul Music, Singer Songwriter Music, Retro Music, Romance Music, S-Pop Music, Winter Holiday Music

Dislikes: Fishing, Gardening, Baking, Deception, Silly Behavior, Ambitionless Sims, Egotistical Sims, Pessimistic Sims, Easy Listening Music, METAL MUSIC

Wardrobe

Entry Details

ALL IN (Hit me up whenever, wherever, ask box or DMs)

Even though the main part is to woo Deanna, I will not stand in the way if Isabella falls for someone else!

Isabella is monogamous.

Isabella is open to woohoo in later parts of the competition, so long as she had already gotten to know the other person properly.

I also don't mind if she flirts with Joey, ahem.

Download is sent privately.

[mermaidenmystic]

The Mermaid of Marden by Solomon Shiv Landerman, aka “Sol”

artist note: The Mermaid of Marden is a legend in or around the Herefordshire region of the UK wherein there was once a Small Church atop a hill with a reknowned bell that rang out along the countryside to announce the service. But there was one who did not appreciate the sound. A Mermaid who lived in a ‘Pool’ or lake at the bottom of the hill. One day the bell was being rung by its passionate priest and the fastenings which had been worn down- snapped and the bell went ringing down the hill until it reached the water and sank. The legend goes onto tell of an ambitious attempt to raise the old giant bell from the water but they didnt realize the sleeping mermaid with in it! Well it is said that she not only had Mermaid strength- she had the spirit of a woman from Herefordshire! She awoke and promptly threw the bell back into the water and before diving in her self told the poor priest and his flock never to bother her again. From then on it is said she was happy and got plenty of beauty sleep. It is also said that on a quiet day- the inhabitants of Marden and Herefordshire can here the very soft and distant ringing of a bell in the air… As you know I adore Mermaids and making art of them. I created this as part of the FOLKTOBER challenge of October 2021. She was done completely with Gouache as part of the love affair I am having with the medium. Another thing I enjoy about Gouache is in a sense the paint and colors seem to breathe and change as the day goes or the light falling upon it changes. The piece can change from a fairytale feeling to a mysterious legend depending on the time of day. That is this Artists opinion of course.

[satoshi-mochida]

Stories from Sol: The Gun-Dog launches February 20, 2025 - Gematsu

Science-fiction visual novel Stories from Sol: The Gun-Dog will launch for PlayStation 5, PlayStation 4, Switch, and PC via Steam on February 20, 2025, publisher Astrolabe Games and developer Space Colony Studios announced. It will feature English, French, Spanish, German, Japanese, Traditional Chinese, and Simplified Chinese language options.

The companies also unveiled the new “Full-Color Mode,” which makes the game playable in full color. An update for the previously released demo featuring this new mode is available now for PlayStation 5 and PC, and will launch for Switch on September 19.

As previously announced, PM Studios and Meridiem Games will publish physical editions of Stories from Sol: The-Gun Dog in North America and Europe, respectively. The physical edition will be available for PlayStation 5 in North America, and for PlayStation 5 and Switch in Europe.

Here is an overview of the game, via Astrolabe Games:

About

War is over. War is just beginning. Planetary Calendar 214. Four years have passed since the end of the Solar War. Our protagonist, scarred from the loss of his crewmates in the war, is re-assigned to the Jovian patrol ship Gun-Dog as it’s dispatched with orders to investigate mysterious signals coming from the edge of Jovian Space. Unknown to the Gun-Dog’s crew, a new danger looms deep in the ocean of stars, threatening not just the Gun-Dog but all her crew. Take on the role of the Gun-Dog’s security officer as you attempt to save the ship from an unknown assailant whilst navigating the paranoia, conspiracies and vendettas that break out amongst the crew. As camaraderie falls apart can you overcome the challenges that await?

The Game: A Love Letter to Retro Anime and 80s Science-Fiction

Stories from Sol: The Gun-Dog is a visual novel adventure in the spirit of classic PC-9800 titles. Featuring a vintage green screen aesthetic, Space Colony Studios strives to create an “era-accurate” game that exudes retro vibes in every way, from the text to the visual effects. As the Jovian patrol ship sails into the darkness among the stars, the players will feel like they are on an adventure in an 80s Sci-Fi as they solve the mystery they find themselves in.

The Story: A New Threat Emerges From the Void

Humans have long since freed themselves from the grasp of gravity, but they are still unable to escape the hold of war. It’s year 214 of the Planetary Calendar. Four years have passed since the end of the Solar War and an uneasy peace persists throughout the solar system. The Jovian patrol ship Gun-Dog is sent on a reconnaissance mission to investigate mysterious signals coming from the edge of Jovian space. What starts as a routine assignment quickly escalates into a battle for survival as an unknown threat terrorises the crew.

The Gameplay: Investigate. Interact. Analyze. Advance.

Utilizing traditional point-and-click adventure mechanics, during your time on the Gun-Dog, you can navigate various locations on the ship, examine the details of the richly realized backgrounds or talk with the different crew members on board. You will need to listen closely to the characters’ words to reveal important clues or duplicitous intentions and keep your eyes peeled for key items and interactive elements in the backgrounds that you can use to advance the story.

The Characters: Get on Board With the Crew of the Gun-Dog!

All stories are about people and the cast of The Gun-Dog bring the story to life, so much so that their charm and charisma convinced the team at Astrolabe Games to board the Gun-Dog and sign up to be the publisher. From the elegant yet distant Captain Bartermews, to the bubbly Lieutenant Commander Cassandra Quinn, to the assertive and domineering Chief Mackenzie Cathays, The Gun-Dog features an extensive cast of characters for you to meet. Each crew member has a distinct personality, role and history. Get to know them and their quirks and decide whether to work with or against them to unravel the mystery that lies at the story’s heart.

The Place: Adventure in an Entirely Explorable Ship!

The main stage of the first installment in the Stories from Sol series, as the Jovian patrol ship Gun-Dog heads into deep space it serves as the setting for the game’s story. It has been exhaustively realized. Rich and evocative descriptions of the ship, including the constant rumble of the engine room, the bustle of the bridge, the silence of space pair with an extensive range of scenes that have been meticulously designed and animated in detail to deliver an immersive experience. Inspired by the best that anime has to offer the ship even features “Armored Frames,” mechanized, human shaped, weapons of war.

Watch a new trailer below. View a new set of screenshots at the gallery.

Release Date and Full-Color Mode Trailer

[ask-red-and-solomon]

Fair Chaos - Oneshot

Cheers of kaiju and carnival music echoed through the clear autumn skies. The county fair was only set up and operating for only about a week every fall and spring season across the solar system- and this time, it was Zenith's turn to host it.

So, having no other plans, and thinking it would make for a fun day, Red decided to take Usol and Solomon there- with Melissa and Acacius tagging along.

Solomon landed just a few paces away from the arched entrance, Red following shortly behind and holding Usol in his arms. The small monster had made sure to bundle up in a jacket and scarf, guessing that it would be colder later.

"And here we are!" Solomon announced in a grand voice, getting a pair of shades out of his fur, "The county fair...!"

"Oh, I haven't been to one of these in forever!" Melissa smiled as she glided towards the ground, holding Acacius in her arms. Acacius chuckled as he picked leaves out of her jacket hood.

Usol peered up, excitedly waving at her, "Hi, Melissa! Hi Mr. Acacius!"

"Usol! It's nice to see you too!" She landed with a few steps, kneeling to put Acacius on the ground. Red leaned down to let Usol run over to her, to which she picked up and hugged him.

"Are you ready to ride the craziest rides there are?!"

Usol pumped his small fists into the air, "Yeah! And eat all the cotton candy in the woorrld!" They both cheered out and laughed.

Red smiled as he watched them have their fun, before stretching out his wings and legs.

Acacius stared at the Hellbeast for a moment, noticing how his wings cracked. "Hey Red, how're you doing over there?"

He relaxed his wings and stood upright again, "Better than before," He sighed out in relief.

"Do your wings usually crack when you stretch them?"

"I don't think I stretched them properly before I took off. But..." He stopped to stretch one of his legs, "Ugh- There it is. I'm fine now."

"You sure?"

"Yes, I'm-"

"Hey, Solomon!"

The demon bat turned away from the attraction posters he was looking at, "Yeah?"

"You really don't have to-"

"You gonna help Red with stretching out his legs later, or what?!"

Red roughly shoved Acacius aside, Solomon was already trying not to laugh, "Ignore that! I'm fine!"

Usol and Melissa ran inside the fair, chanting out about how much funnel cake and cotton candy they'd eat. Red perked his head up hearing that there was funnel cake, and rushed after them.

"Oh boy..." Solomon nervously smiled, "Red, wait up! You better not spend the money I gave you already!"

"I'm getting a funnel cake no matter what!"

"Fine, but you can't just eat sweets all afternoon."

Red fully stopped, tilting his head, "Is that a challenge?"

"What?!- I, well... Wait, no-!"

The Hellbeast bolted off faster than before.

"Red, get back here!-"

Acacius snatched the shades from Sol's head as he ran off. Surely he wouldn't mind if he borrowed these just for today?

Chuckling to himself, he followed not too far after the others.

"Alright... which ride should we go on first..." Melissa wondered aloud, looking across each colorful attraction as Usol held her hand, jumping in excitement.

"How about.... that one!"

She turned to Usol, then to the ride he'd pointed at- the grand ferris wheel, towering over everything. Multicolored lights adorned the sides, glowing amidst the clear sky.

A big smile spread across her face, "Ooh, that's a good one! The views at the top are just amazing!" A sudden beeping sound interrupted her thoughts.

Confused, Usol watched her take a small device out of her pocket. "Hold on, just gotta feed this little guy..." She started pressing buttons, not taking her eyes off the tiny screen as she felt Usol tugging at her other hand.

"Hold on, hold on, the ferris wheel isn't going to roll away or anything," She joked. Just then, she heard the magnet that held her prosthetic in place snap.

As soon as she looked down, a small winged Kamacuras bolted off, holding her arm.

"What the- Hey! Get back here!" She rushed after the monster on foot, "You don't just do that, you jerk!"

"Go kick his butt, Melissa!" Usol shouted in encouragement, waving his cotton candy in the air. He turned back to the alligator kaiju who managed the cart, "How much is this again?"

"Two silver coins, kid."

Usol dug around in his pocket, and handed him the money, putting the extra change away. "Thanks for the business, little guy."

"Thank you! I might get some more for Melissa when she comes back..." He mumbled, now focusing on trying to find Red or Solomon. "Shoot... Where'd they go...?"

The small monster paced in place for a moment, looking through the plethora of monsters that walked from one ride to the next. He tried not to panic, but then stopped when he remembered what the Hellbeast talked about earlier.

He turned to the stand owner, "Excuse me, but do you know where I can get a funnel cake?"

The owner looked away from his book, "Oh yeah. I think a stand for that was set up further that way," He pointed past various balloon games and a carousel, "Someone set up shop just a little bit past those rides."

"Thank you!" Usol smiled, before running off into the crowds, waving his cotton candy around like a sword. "Sorry, outta my way! I'm gonna defeat a funnel cake dragon!"

"Go get 'em, kiddo!"

*****

Colorful leaves gathered at Acacius's feet as he leaned back on the wooden bench, the little shade of the nearby tree shielding his eyes from the sun.

He didn't have any plans for the day, he didn't need to. Sitting beneath the open sky and warmth of the sun, feeling the cool breeze of the autumn season... all of that was just enough for him.

He watched as smaller and younger monsters ran about the fair, hopping onto various rides and laughing in joy when they got off- before rushing to another ride or to one of the snack stands.

A soft smile spread across his face, remembering how happy and free he was in his youth. A small group of smaller monsters rushed to one of the spinning cliffhanger rides- the attendant looked exhausted.

"Look buddy, I'm not tellin' you again-"

"Can this thing spin so fast, it can fly you to the moon?"

"What?- No, it can't- are you gonna buy a ticket or-"

"Are you doing okay?"

"Obviously no! Are you getting a ticket or not?!"

"Can you make the ride go super fast?!"

"I'm not allowed to!-"

"Why not? It'd be fun!"

Acacius turned to the attendant, finding that he was in an argument with none other than... Face. He buried his head in his hands for a second, of course the weird floating head was at the fair and asking everyone crazy questions...

Acacius got onto his feet, "Hey Face!"

The odd floating head spun around, facing him upside-down. "Oh, my good ol' buddy! What's you getting up to on this funny night?"

"Just trying to relax and everything... What are you doing?"

Face squinted at the ride attendant for a second, like the monster had stolen something and wouldn't hand the item back.

Right, Face sometimes refused to answer questions that didn't have a yes or no answer. "Face? Are you going to cause trouble all day?"

They quickly turned back to him, "Oh no, no, no! I was just having fun!"

"Are you sure? You look a bit... mad at this guy. You want to go get some snacks with me? I-"

"Oh! Snacks?!" Without any warning, Face bolted past, bouncing off snack stands and rides at blinding speed. "Gotta catch me first Mr. light man!"

Acacius stared for a second, dazed, before running after them, "Face, I swear to God- why are you always like this?!"

Maniacal laughter echoed through the wind as the Golden Light gave chase, always just barely a step behind the tiny blur as it bounced around like a hyperactive pinball.

Monsters ducked, and screamed, and ran as Face crashed into one of the watergun games, only for him to have already moved on by the time Acacius caught up.

"Someone stop them!" He yelled out, just as Face bounced off a snack stand, and was sent flying into another stand, where the two-headed bird that owned it defended themselves with a pan.

Which then sent Face flying into the air.

"Whoa..." Acacius huffed, out of breath, but now relived he could actually catch it now. "Thanks..!"

Quickly, he looked around for any way for Face to safely land- without damaging any attractions or monsters...

Then he spotted a cotton candy machine. He got an idea, it was a crazy idea, but an idea nonetheless.

He ran to the machine, grabbing it by the handle and wheeling off with it, "Sorry, gotta borrow this really quickly!"

Face continued to soar higher into the skies, there was no telling when it'd reach the peak and start diving. Carefully, Acacius kept his eyes on them.

"Come on... Come on..."

He moved the machine around bit by bit, trying to see where exactly it'd land... Face then slowly began to fall, shouting out in glee like it was the most fun he had in forever.

"There!" He quickly flipped a switch on the machine, starting it on the highest setting. Large puffs of candy began to form within the machine as it shuttered and whirred.

"Wwwhhhhheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee...!"

Acacius smiled to himself, "I got you now..."

The whirring of the machine got louder and louder as it was now overflowing with candy, enough to form a small cloud. The candy cloud grew and grew steadily as Face got closer and closer to the ground.

Nearby monsters stared and gasped at the cloud of candy, but Acacius kept his eyes on Face's location. Then, finally, Face crashed into the cloud and the machine itself, sending Acacius and the machine flying back.

For a moment, neither of them moved, dazed and in shock from the fall's impact. Acacius lifted a shaking hand, and shut off the machine just as Face came floating out of it, spinning wildly.

"Whhooooo boy..! That... that was- uh..." Face stumbled on their words for a minute, then shook themselves. "That was the fun-est thing I've done in a bajillion years!"

Acacius only groaned as he slowly got up, rubbing his chest and arm while Face was too busy laughing. "Ughh, God... Should've worn my armor.... sugar-honey-iced..."

Face stared at him for a second, "You doing okay buddy 'ol pal? Are any of your bones broken?"

"No... No, God I hope not..."

They blinked, then grabbed a tuft of cotton candy, offering it to him."Want some?"

Rubbing his head, Acacius sat up and took the candy. Looking tired as he ate it.

"There we go! Feel better now?"

"I... guess? I don't know... I just wanted to relax and maybe go on a ride or two and-"

Face practically lit up, flying around him in circles, "Oh, a ride! Which one?! Tell me, tell me!"

"Maybe one of the spinning rides? I heard that-"

He was suddenly dragged back up to his feet, "That sounds super fun! Let's go! Ooh, you think we could get the ride cranked all the way up and go super super fast?! C'mon buddy!"

Acacius stared for a second, "Well, uh... I don't..."

Before he knew it, Face was already dragging him to a nearby ride.

*****

Melissa's own heartbeat echoed through her head as she rushed past countless rides and stands. Everything abound her was nothing more than faint blurs as she chased down the small bug monster.

Holding the robotic arm in its pincers, the winged Kamacuras glided just above the ground and near the feet of other monsters, staying out of her sight for as long as possible.

She stopped for a long moment to catch her breath and ground herself again, the weight of just one prosthetic felt odd. Of course the little bugger chose to go into the most crowded section of the fair... First the stalls he'd knocked over to slow her down, and now this.

But she needed to slow down and ground herself to find him. She needed that prosthetic back- Acacius didn't work night and day building it for nothing, after all...

"Where did you go now..."

Slowly, she looked over the entire area. Bells rang, and smaller monsters laughed and ran all around her. So many colorful things surrounded her, it was almost overwhelming.

Yep, now she was sure they lead her here on purpose...

A couple prizes at some of the games caught her eye, she considered playing to get them. But then she shook herself, she shouldn't get distracted. Step by step, she walked through the crowd, unable to see her own boots, let alone the small monster.

It really was the perfect hiding spot for him.

Just out of her sight, the small Kamacuras hopped into a bouncy castle, "Hey! Get back here...!"

They glared at her for a second, then jumped once, then twice, then on the third bounce, they forced all of their weight down.

By the time Melissa had caught up, they spread their wings and used the castle to launch themselves high above, flying over a section of the fair.

The small monster cackled in glee as they took off, "See you never, smurf lady!"

For a moment, Melissa just stared. Then she took a deep breath- in a flash of light, angelic wings materialized behind her.

She slowly rose them above her head, then brought them down with all the force she could muster, darting into the skies.

Eyes darting around, she tried to spot him again. There were some fun attractions, with Acacius and Face in a spinning one... Some strength test games Solomon could beat for sure...

Once she spotted the ferris wheel, she immediately spotted the winged beast. Her prosthetic dangling from its tiny arms.

He looked back to her, too busy taunting her to notice the metal darts soaring nearby- and by the time he had, his wings were already torn and he found himself suddenly falling.

Fear struck Melissa, and without thinking, she dove after him.

"Come on, come on! Just a bit further!" The Kamacuras desperately flapped his wings, but to no avail.

"I've got you!" In an instant, she grabbed ahold on him with her remaining arm, outstretching her wings as she slowed.

He squirmed in her grip, "Let go of me, you stupid-!"

She suddenly dropped him a few feet above the ground, near a blocked off section, where parts of a deconstructed roller coaster surrounded them.

Melissa landed before him, a stern look on her face as he glared at her.

Slowly, she knelt down to his level, "Look, kid... I don't know why you took my arm, or what you could need it for. But I need it back, please?"

"No way! I need this! We can't find any other replacements!"

She gave him a look of confusion, "Replacements? For who?"

"My mom, that's who! Her robot arm broke!" He clutched her prosthetic even tighter, "Me and my sister's been looking everywhere for pieces to fix it! It's the only one we could find around here!"

For a moment, she stopped and thought. Then got an idea.

"What's your name?"

He gave her a suspicious look, "Darrin?"

"If you give me my arm back, Darrin, then I'll get some friends of mine to help you and your mother..." She held out her hand. "Does that sound alright?"

Darrin didn't move for a while, taking a step back. But then handing it back.

"Deal. As long as she's okay..."

Melissa snapped the prosthetic back into place, "Don't worry, I'll make sure she is. I promise."

"You better not break that promise!"

"I won't, I won't!"

"Good!" He looked around for a second, "Um... could you get me outta here?"

"Oh!- Absolutely!" She chuckled a bit, "Sorry about that!"

"I'm the one who stole from you!"

"Hm... fair enough... Want any cotton candy?"

"Uh... sure?"

*****

The Hellbeast grabbed and clawed at the inside of a toppled over funnel cake truck, the owner, trapped inside, holding onto his seat for dear life.

"Five, six... seven... think that's enough..." Red mumbled to himself, then turned to the owner, throwing a small bag of coins at him. "Here's your tip."

He hopped off of the truck, a stack of cakes balanced on one hand. Solomon shook his head, then shouted out, "Hey! Red! Forgetting something?"

Red stopped in his tracks, staring at him blankly for a second. Ah, right, the truck...

"Oh. Sorry. Forgot..." He scurried back to the truck, handing the stack of cakes to Sol, "Hold these."

Solomon gave him a slightly concerned look, "You doing okay, love? You've been forgetting to be nice to others a lot recently..."

The Hellbeast huffed as he lifted the truck up, "I just... get very into what I'm doing... sometimes..." He shoved the truck up onto its wheels, taking a second to check on the owner, who was still scared.

"You okay?" The driver gave him a quivering thumbs up. "I think he's okay..." The Hellbeast walked back to Solomon, splitting one of the cakes in half for his partner to eat and taking the rest of the stack.

Sol stopped for a moment, looking through the fair, "Now where'd Usol go off to-"

"Hi Mr. Solomon!"

Solomon yelped as jolted back for a second, "Oh- oh... heheh... there you are, kiddo..." He knelt down and patted Usol on the head. Red smiled and gave him a thumbs up.

"What'cha up to today? Find any cool rides?"

"I got some cotton candy, and... I got on some other rides, and found that thing!" Usol pointed up at the massive ferris wheel, which was even bigger up close.

Solomon stared up at it, "Huh... Good choice!"

"I wanna go all the way to the top! Melissa said everything looks really cool from there!"

"It does. I've been on one before."

"You have?"

"Yes. Want me to fly you up there?"

Usol began jumping in excitement, "Yeah! Let's go!"

"What? No! You can't just fly on top of the ride!"

"Why not?"

"You have to wait in line like everyone else, silly..."

Both Usol and Red groaned in disappointment. Usol already checked the line, which was packed to Hell and back. It would take hours of waiting just to get on...

But then Red smiled at Usol, he had an idea. He walked over to Solomon, "Hold on, you have something on your face..."

"Huh? Do I?-"

Red suddenly pulled Solomon in for a long kiss, and letting go when he looked flustered and was smiling like an idiot, "Oh- uh..."

"Now!" One second, Red held his face in his hands, and the very next, he scooped up Usol and rocketed into the evening sky with a single beat of his wings, maniacally laughing.

He just stared as the two of them soared high above all else. "Red... you sly bastard...!" He shouted out as he spread his own wings, going after them.

"Victory for us...!" Usol cheered just over Red's laughter, "Wait... I think you dropped the cake you just got..."

Red just shrugged, leaves blowing past him in the breeze, "Eh, doesn't matter. What does, is the ferris wheel!"

"Yeah! We're kings of the fair!- Whoa!-"

Suddenly, Red recoiled back, protectively holding Usol close as a bright light soared up just a few feet before them.

The Hellbeast watched as the firecracker soared higher and and higher, then went off in multicolored sparkles. He faintly heard the monster below, who set it off, yelling at them.

"What was that?"

"A firecracker... must be testing them..."

"Red! Don't fly here!" He turned around, facing Solomon, who now circled around them. "They test the fireworks around this time!"

"That's stupid, it's not dark enough for that yet!"

He was about to respond but looked annoyed for a second, then yelled down to somebody, "I'm working on it, pal!" He sighed, turning to Red again, who bolted past him.

"Catch us if you can...!" He shouted out, laughing to himself over Usol's own cheering. Solomon watched as the Hellbeast weaved between fireworks with ease, like is was a game of some kind.

A mischievous smile spread across his face.

Why not just play along, just for now?

"Alright then... here I... come!" And with that, Solomon rocketed into the air, flipping around and soaring towards them.

Narrowly avoiding the flying fireworks and laughing as sparks surrounded him. Usol and Red began laughing even more now that he was playing along.

"Better watch out, cause player three's joined the game!"

"Look out from behind!" Usol shouted, just as Red dove out of Solomon's way. "Do a barrel roll!"

Red blinked. "A what?"

"A barrel roll! You don't know what that is?"

"Aw c'mon Red! You can do better than that!" Solomon's voice echoed, just as he spun higher into the air.

The Hellbeast only laughed to himself, "Hold on tight!" He called out, soaring higher to join Solomon.

"Barrel roll! Barrel roll! Barrel roll!"

Solomon laughed in absolute glee as he tore through the winds, spinning rapidly as he dove, the sparks only making it more exhilarating.

Usol laughed and cheered once Red tucked his wings in and began to dive, spreading them out as he spun about.

"Barrel roooolllllllll!"

Red only laughed as the kid's cheering got louder, before dying down just as he'd circled the ferris wheel and carefully landed onto one of the pods.

He glanced at Usol, concerned, "Are you alright?"

"Very... dizzy... hehehe..." Just to be safe, he held onto him until his dizziness disappeared.

"Look out below...!"

The pod swung and shook as Solomon landed on his feet, laughing to himself. "Guess who got cotton candy? And some cool shades!" Kneling down, he handed one to Usol as he jumped out of Red's arms.

He gladly handed the other to Red, who quickly took it, before sitting down and Usol following suit.

"Cotton candy!" Usol cheered, waving it in the air, "Thank you!"

Solomon smiled, sitting beside the small monster, "Ah, no problem kiddo!" He patted him on the head.

"You didn't get any for yourself?"

"Nah, but I got a popsicle! That's just as cool!" He flipped the shades over his eyes, sticking the popsicle in his mouth.

Usol only giggled in response, swinging his legs as the ferris wheel slowly lifted them higher into the sky, where the sun had already set.

"Get ready..."

For a second, he was confused. Then Red pointed at the sky. He stopped and stared, waiting.

He saw as stars shone through the parting clouds as they all watched fireworks of all colors tear through the air. Sparks and lights making the fair a greater spectacle than before, enveloping everything in light.

It really was a great day, chaos and all.

[doubleddenden]

Oh God kill me. Gen 8's mcs and rivals will have to be separated to 2 posts because there's that many official outfits and rivals. This post is dedicated strictly to Victor and Gloria, I guess.

Okay, so visible ankles automatically subtracts three points, I fucking hate it. In the game, too, you are SOL in finding full length pants until Peony is kind enough to loan you some sweatpants in the Crown Tundra dlc, so I had to get and pair the standard pants with gym trainer/challenger shoes, which at least fixed the issue by covering it.

Outside of that glaring issue imo, Victor is just... he doesn't feel like a Pokemon protagonist at all from his vanilla design. Honestly he reads more like a side character or assistant. I guess the shirt is kinda neat and great for finally giving boys a break from blue, but otherwise this is peak hipster garbage fire in terms of fashion. An oversized and not pulled down beanie, distressed skinny jeans that don't even cover the ankle and have a plaid design in the pockets, hipster shoes not fit for exploring anything beyond the untamed wilds of the local library, and a suitcase bag- honestly that's probably the most impractical bag to carry around in the entire series, yet it's also the most realistic for all the shit inside. Still, this is 10 for 10 on pathetic white guy getting Starbucks and trying to look fashionable while being too nervous to talk to the cashier, all that's missing are gauged out earlobes and a shit twirled mustache. This asshole gets a 5. I don't like it and he just looks too generic. At least the customization is pretty good in SwSh (and subsequently removed for no reason except to cut more corners).

OY I'LL BASH YE FOCKIN 'EAD IN, I SWEAR ON ME MUM. God I miss angry Scottish Gloria memes. They at least gave her some semblance of personality, unlike Victor, who reads as the stereotypical safe British boy girls fantasize about (they don't exist).

Gloria is a cute design, definitely a cozy one and a bit more practical compared to Victor. She comes across as a teen that put together a cute outfit using a mix of clothes from her grandparents or something, and honestly other than the hat, this is an outfit I'd probably see in fall, maybe with leggings though, and honestly oversized shirts and jackets just looks cozy on any girl- it makes me think of my nieces wearing my hoodies. It's a certainly a unique design among FemCs. Of course, the girls have way better options for character customization, including FULL LENGTH PANTS, and pretty much have access to most clothes and hair styles the guys do if I remember correctly. Not the reverse tho. Tomboys are fine, but gamefreak draws the LINE at femboys (this time, weirdly enough, when it's usually hard NOT to make one). 8/10, I've definitely made a few OCs using the femc.

No. 1/10. Wait. I like the shoes. 3/10. SwSh fails on a lot of levels, and one of those is just how STUPID they make the players look in our gym challenge uniform. I don't care if it's based on British sports, make better uniforms or fuck off and let me dress how I want. Victor especially just looks way too generic for his own good. If you paired this with Inteleon, you'd literally make the best still image case for the decline of design in the franchise- thankfully there are better designs in the sane gen.

The gym uniform looks slightly better on Gloria, mainly because they changed it slightly to be more leggy and gave her a nice pose. Still not a fan of them, but at least Gloria can kinda make it work. 6/10

Finally, something interesting for Victor. The Isle of Armor uniform is a bit of a cultural mashup of generic sport sweats and a martial arts uniform, which is fitting for the setting. I've said it before, but the SwSh DLC saved the game just barely imo, and this is one of the reasons. I do like the manbun, it's at least different from the generic slop Victor normally calls hair, and the colors are just incredibly well paired. I personally replaced the shorts with pants in my playthrough, and it was basically perfect for a training arc. What irks me most I reckon are the shoes, which doesn't really vibe with either west or east training arc inspirations imo. I think a perfect version of this uniform would have something kind of like an End of Z, GT, or Xeno Goku look with longer pants, yellow leg wrappings, and black shoes, and maybe pocket the gloves. A sleeveless option would've also been cool. As it is now, though, it's a nice 7/10 on Victor.

And of course, Gloria just rocks the uniform way better. The only real difference is the hair and shorter shorts (they're so short you can see the safety shorts underneath), but the uniform looks way better on the girls in the dojo for a design stand point, and that hair is just too cute. I'm noticing that whoever is drawing Gloria is focusing a lot on her legs and poses vs Victor, so it's kind of clear who is an office favorite imo. 9/10 tbh, it's a good look.

These two are together for the Crown Tundra look because it's literally the same outfit with little to no changes. There are 11 pockets on those uniforms, maybe 13 if there's rear pockets. That is kind of impressive, where tf did Peony find these? The colors leave a bit to be desired and I wish we had options to recolor the clothes and boots, especially the boots, because they'd be perfect in a black and white color with other pants. But the outfit does also come in gold for some reason and both can be mixed and matched with other clothes while covering ankle.

It's a practical look for exploring somewhere cold. 8/10.

As blank slates, Gloria is pretty decent imo, but both are pretty set designs that lack the same range as some protagonists. Nobody is mistaking these guys for anything older than 15 at the latest imo, maybe 11 at the earliest. It's a little better than SM in that regard with its firm 11 shtick, but you're definitely still asking mom to drive you to soccer practice. 6/10, Gloria on the higher end, Victor dragging down on the lower end.

Next, the swsh rivals

[marbleboa]

Nine sols. Opinions about it?

Hi anon. Just finished the game a few days ago so I fear this ask has unleashed the resulting storm within me. Behold a (spoiler free)word vomit review.

But seriously TLDR: Definitely a game of the year for me. A full package of compelling themes and engaging gameplay wrapped in a gorgeous art style. The intermingling of sci-fi and horror really hits a sweet spot for me, and as a thoroughly mid gamer I enjoyed the parry system, and combat as a whole, much more than expected too!

The Story

What first drew me to the game after seeing it in playthroughs! Initially I was reminded of Transistor: you’re tossed into the story at the start of the revenge quest, with little information as to why these people wronged you in the first place. I remember I was kinda overwhelmed at first, you get a lot of names and unfamiliar terms thrown at you pretty quickly. But like Transistor, I feel like the characters and their dynamics serve as a grounding force amidst that, and it’s satisfying to later watch the pieces fall into place to make a profoundly satisfying yet bittersweet narrative.

All in all I’m just a sucker for the kind of robust worldbuilding that Nine Sols provides—the flavor text for all the items giving glimpses at a larger history and culture, the environmental storytelling, there’s just so much extra care put into this game that really breathes life into it.

Also, I was familiar with Red Candle’s previous body of work in the horror genre, and the devs pepper it into the sci-fi setting masterfully. It’s like the game says “Look! Kitty people! Gorgeous environments!” And while you’re disarmed by the pretty colors and this cute little boy playing his flute it then tosses a screaming, writhing clump of meat at your face and continues to do so with increasing frequency as the game progresses. But also in a tactful and thematically important way.

In conclusion I laughed, I cried, I went “dude what the fuck”, it was great.

The Gameplay

Platforming wise, I had a really good time with this one. Every area has something new to work around, and there’s just the right amount of puzzles and secrets so that the flow of the game doesn’t feel disrupted, And as you unlock new movement abilities, it feels really damn good to jump around all over the place This does make certain sections where you’re forced to lose that momentum all the more tedious(looking at you, That One Stealth Sequence), but they’re infrequent enough that I don’t feel it’s too much of an issue.

As for actual combat…let me preface that I am by no means a Pro Gamer. When I get overwhelmed I typically end up mashing the buttons in a blind panic. A no-hit fight shall never be in my reach, this I say with utmost certainty. But!!! The soulslike boss fights that I was expecting to be the low point for me ended up being a blast. Sometimes a challenge, yeah, but satisfying to complete.

I did my first run with the lowered difficulty offered by story mode(which is an awesome option to have btw), and honestly? My next thought was immediately wanting to take on the regular version! We’ll see how that goes…

[cc-for-cy]

The Ricky Montgomery Legacy Challenge

Inspired by @dizzywhims' Sour Legacy, I decided I wanted to make a legacy based on my favorite album, Montgomery Ricky by Ricky Montgomery!

The rules on this challenge are pretty lax, as I built it more for myself, however, the more I sat on it the more I wanted to actually put it out for everyone! So, here's all the rules! Make sure to tag either @cc-for-cy or @heretoreadmyfics and use the tag #montgomeryrickylegacy if you do this challenge, I would love to see it!

Rules written out are under the cut and make sure to STREAM RICK (OUT NOW)

| 0 - Rules

This challenge is NOT base game friendly, and uses almost all the packs. Feel free to alter this challenge if you do not have a pack used. 

Mods are encouraged! Try not to use many cheaty mods however. Basemental Mods is encouraged for two generations but you may not use them if you feel uncomfortable with it. 

Unless specified, drama, how many kids you have, etc are totally up to you!

This challenge is very storyline based! Feel free to go insane with the storyline, and use my descriptions as a baseline. Requirements are, of course, required to happen. You may also edit or add challenge rules depending on how hard you want the challenge to be, as this challenge is written for beginner storytelling.

Heirs can be any gender, HOWEVER the challenge is written for a patriarchy, and patriarchy is preferred.

If you play this challenge, please tag me, @heretoreadmyfics or @cc-for-cy and tag it #montgomeryrickylegacy

---

| 1 - California

“I am just a boy, but with a little bit of a culture, I'll go far

I want the world to know that I'm not just a photograph!”

Having just moved back to Del Sol Valley, you’re ready to get started on your big break! You swear you’re not going to fall into the pitfalls of stardom, saying “I love all my fans” when you don’t, becoming someone you never saw yourself as, but… Will that sentiment ring true when you finally get all you want?

Aspiration: World Famous Celebrity

Traits: Self-Absorbed, Creative, Ambitious

Career: Actor or Entertainer (Musician Branch)

Requirements:

Max the Acting and/or an Instrument (guitar, piano, violin, etc) skill

Date a celebrity and have at least 1 child with them

Become a 5 Star celebrity

---

| 2 - Get Used To It

“You want a garden, but you got a balcony

And you’re always looking for some company”

Growing up being a top celebrities kid, your life was luxurious, filled with parties, and general monkeying around- even some trying to make it on your own, but it wasn’t that important to you… Until it was. You used to be crazy with creativity but now.. you don’t feel as important as you once did. And you’re gonna have to Get Used to It. 

Aspiration: Live Fast (Teen), Party Animal

Traits: Non-Committal, High-Maintenance, Childish

Career: The OPPOSITE of whatever you majored in (EX. Drama Degree -> Go into Business)

Requirements:

Max out the Gardening skill

Go to University

Have an eventful teenage/YA life that settles down halfway through, to your dismay

Have at least 2 different partners before meeting the one you marry

DON’T complete your aspiration

---

| 3 - Cabo

“Ashes, ashes, dust to dust

I think I found a place for us”

Once your parents finally settle down, they never really let you have creativity. They never let you have anything, really, saying that the real world would end all your hopes and dreams, and for a while you believed that, until you met them and suddenly your life felt colorful and loved. But.. You had to keep it secret. Because your parents would just tear that down like all your other dreams. 

Aspiration: Soulmate

Traits: Romantic, Gloomy, Clumsy

Career: Painter (Either branch)

Requirements:

Max the Painting skill

Take a vacation and meet your partner there. 

Partner must have blonde/white hair. 

Keep your relationship secret from your family your entire life

Eventually live in the place you met your partner in (if available)

---

| 4 - My Heart Is Buried In Venice

“My heart is buried in Venice

Waiting for someone to take it home”

After seeing what love your parents showed, you thought romance would be easy. You had no idea what they went through, and when you finally found a partner you knew you were going to be everything to them. But maybe the issues your family had plagued you, because suddenly you were worried that nobody would ever love you the way you did to others. And the life you had with your partner crumbled, and over a small argument, they left, seeing your flaws. And now you’re alone, waiting for someone to take your heart home.

Aspiration: Serial Romantic

Traits: Paranoid, Romantic, Overachiever

Career: Civil Planner (Either branch)

Requirements:

Max a vacation based skill (ex. skiing, snowboarding, rock climbing, selvadordian culture, herbalism, etc)

Have a relationship break off after an argument (can be autonomous or not)

Have at least 1 kid with the partner that breaks up with you, and that has child has to be heir (may have more afterwards)

---

| 5 - Dont Know How

“I wanna do it but I don’t know

I don’t know how”

Seeing your parents relationship crumble over something so small never really gave you the confidence to ever even approach someone- so for most of your life you were alone and unloved, and kinda a nerd.. Until you see her and goddammit she is so out of your league! But even looking at her makes your knees buckle and your heart beat so hard- so you’re gonna try dammit, for the first time ever, to win someone out of your league! But.. Do you know how?

Aspiration: Nerd Brain, Villainous Valentine

Traits: Socially-Awkward, Self-Assured, Nerd

Career: Scientist

Requirements:

Have the Nerd Brain aspiration, but change it after competing the first two parts, and switch to Villainous Valentine

Meet someone who changes your life by being really hot and proceed with a romantic endeavor that gets your confidence up! Then cheat on them.

Every woohoo has to be a try for baby. You’re confident like that. 

Max out the rocket science and/or programming skill(s)

---

| 6 - Line Without A Hook

“She’s a, she’s a lady

and I am just a line without a–”

Insecure and bad. That’s what most of your relationships have felt like. It didn’t help that your parent had a sexual promiscuity problem, which probably didn’t really help your endeavors. But once you get someone, you are determined to never let them go- no matter what!… But. Your relationship becomes codependent. It becomes a problem- you can’t stop being around them. And your problems are cropping up again— so what do you do? You’re a line without a hook. You leave. 

Aspiration: Angeling Ace

Traits: Erratic, Perfectionist, Jealous

Career: Conservationist

Requirements:

Be best friends with your spouse, but eventually leave and abandon your family 

(abandoning family is considered the end of this generation)

Max out the fishing skill

Finish the frog collection

Never live alone

---

| 7 - Last Night

“Last night

I was fine!”

You weren’t super young when your parent abandoned you, but definitely old enough to destroy your teenage/YA life. It seemed like they always had something else better to do than love you, like for example loving your other parent way more. Were you really wanted? You spend your days forever at the bar, drinking and trying to forget. Eventually you’re dragged away, every time. By someone who allegedly loves you. 

Aspiration: Master Mixologist

Traits: Loner, Snob, Dance Machine

Career: Culinary (Mixology Branch)

Requirements:

Go to nightclubs/bars at least once a week

Be close/best friends with the parent who didn’t leave you. 

Have a partner, but cheat on them with a one night stand, that results in the heir. 

Master the mixology skill

---

| 8 - Mr Loverman

“I’m Mr. Loverman, 

and I miss my lover..”

Your life was always a little bit of a mess, but you keep going. Eventually you meet the love of your life, and you love and live with them as hard as you can. For so many years… But eventually… you lose them. And you mourn that love for the rest of your life, falling deep into problems that are generational. 

Aspiration: Soulmate

Traits: Cheerful -> Gloomy, Music Lover, Slob

Career: Freelancer (Writing Branch)

Requirements:

Lose your spouse, never remarry

Have a nuclear family (at least 3 kids + a pet)

Fall into old habits, start sabotaging relationships + going to bars.

Max the Cross-Stitch skill

---

| 9 - Snow

“Bury me six feet in snow”

Once one of your parents dies, your other parent becomes very vindictive towards the rest of your family. You took the heat of it, and quickly your life fell apart. You get into a toxic relationship, and lose who you were slightly in the process. When everything seems calm, you jump ship. You aspire for your kid to have a better life, and bury your skeletons to make sure they will. 

Aspiration: Extreme Sports Enthusiast and/or Super Parent

Traits: Adventurous, Self-Absorbed, Family-Oriented

Career: Law (Either Branch)

Requirements:

Have a toxic relationship with your partner, break it off when it starts to get better

Have one kid, and max out all their skills as a toddler/infant

Max the Archeology skill

---

| 10 - This December

“This December

I’ll remember”

Your parent always wanted better for you. But you can’t help but think about the generations before you, how all their problems ruined their life, and how it seemed like every generation passed it down to their children. But you decide no more, this isn’t going to happen to you. Instead of fall into the pitfalls of your parents, you break the generational trauma, and decide to live a life free of the problems you know your family has been through. Don’t forget to look back, and see how far you’ve come. This December, you’ll remember everything. 

Aspiration: Successful Lineage

Traits: Family-Oriented, Loyal, Insider

Career: Education (Either Branch)

Requirements:

Fall in love healthily, get married, and adopt.

Celebrate the winter holidays the hardest. Go all out!

Master the Wellness skill

Reminisce on family often.

[tookyourdadsarrow]

Intro Post ~

[Looks cautiously to and fro]

Don't tell Kyra, but I miiiiiight have taken her "secret" phone when she wasn't looking...

Not for anything bad of course! Just wanted a means to properly introduce myself ;)

🔥 Alex, Daughter of Hestia; Unclaimed...

Name: Alexandra Calida Alavez Age: 12 Pronouns: She/Her Godly Parent: Hestia; At the moment, I'm unclaimed Mortal Family: Sol Alavez (Dad) Camp Half-Blood Cabin: #21, once the truth has been revealed; for now, I tend to chill in Cabin #11 (Hermes)

Fun Facts About Yours' Truly -

🕯Favorite Color: Various shades of red and orange, though yellow is also starting to really grow on me... 🕯Birthday: November 24th (smack in the middle of Autumn; every four years, my birthday also falls on the day of family feasts)

🕯Hobbies: - Sparring with my Spear - Cooking and Baking - Writing and Telling Stories - Just... being there for others I suppose

🕯Favorite Snack: Bread, both savory & sweet

🕯Demigod Powers: - Pyrokinesis (i can control fire?!) - Food Enhancement (purify food/sense if it is tampered) - Limited Healing (through the food I cook) - Warmth & Serenity Inducement (make you feel warm & at peace ~)

🕯Best Camp Half-Blood Skills: - Cooking (some say the food I touch feels blessed ~) - Spearmanship - Lighting a Flame - Generally the Camp's Peacekeeper (do you all have any idea how many fights I had to break up and negotiate through)

🕯Dream Job (if I weren’t a demigod): I tend to be very... low-key. If I had to choose, maybe a quiet desk job. However, I also find I have a passion in helping others, so with that in mind I wouldn't say no to being a therapist or counselor of some sort!

🕯Background: I'm an only child. My dad never really felt the need to go out and settle down with someone else, so for the longest time it was just the two of us. Unfortunately, after I went through an unnatural accident two years ago my dad decided to start dating a nasty woman, Kathleen, and let's just say we haven't had the best relationship...

But now, after my dad has disappeared and I've been brought to camp Half-Blood, I have to deal with the challenges of being a demigod while also being unclaimed! Thank goodness for Kyra, otherwise I don't think I would have managed so well (she's fantastic)!

🕯Personality: Optimistic, passionate, though relatively introverted and a bit too altruistic for her own good, it's not too far off to say Alex is the kind of person who puts her loved ones before herself. She is always willing to lend an ear and be a pillar of support to those who need it, especially if they are near and dear to her heart. Though she is a pacifist at heart, preferring to use her words in resolving conflict, Alex will use her actions to send a message if she must!

Though she has been left unclaimed, for the time being, she does not let this deter her away from the others at camp. While still a bit of an outcast, Alex has learned to hone her abnormalities and embrace her half-divine blood (even if she has found herself growing... resentful... of her godly mother); but above all else, she is determined to find out what happened to her father!

🕯Favorite Camp Memories: - Cooking a meal for her fellow demigods for the first time - Telling a beautiful story over the campfire, one with a happy ending - Meeting Kyra for the first time (girl quite literally was a beacon of light in all the chaos)

🕯Little Extra Detail: I can't help but imagine and create little stories about the things I see, no matter how small the subject is about: - Those campers walking off to train in the woods, who knows the trial they are preparing for? - That fox carrying a stick in his mouth, or an adventurous spirit set out to complete his own little journey? - Two fireflies, illuminating the other even when they have the means to glow so beautifully on their own...

Where will their story go from here?

[rcsetorn]

Name: Beatrix Alias: Rose of May Titles: General, Lady Nationality: Alexandrian Race: Human Age: 28 Gender: Female Sexuality: Heterosexual Birth date: April 19, 1772 Occupation: General of the Alexandrian Army

Height: 5'8" (172 cm) Weight: 157 lbs (71 kg) Hair color: Chestnut Brown Eye color: left: magenta right (blind):pale due to pigment loss Complexion: Fair

The general of Alexandria’s beauty is spoken just as highly as her famed swordsmanship. Tall and curvy. Large brown curls that fall about her shoulders. Calloused hands and faint scars scattered across her body do not take away from her splendor. Beatrix’s attire consists of a red and white sleeveless duster with her symbolic rose embroidered upon the back. Her large belt carries the scabbard for her blade, Save the Queen. And though she’s sacrificed defense for speed, her gauntlets, boots, and a metal eyepatch covering her scared, right eye remain heavy armor for that of a paladin.

Positive: Loyal, forgiving, formal, leadership, self-sacrificing Negative: Merciless, arrogant, holier-than-thou, jealousy Likes: Competition, swordplay, tea Dislikes: Black magic, vanity, rambling Alignment: Lawful Neutral Myers-Briggs: ESTJ

Beatrix is a soldier first, a lady second. Loyalty is a quality placed in high regard, tied to the Alexandrian people and the royal family. She possesses outstanding leadership skills, gaining her respect among soldiers, citizens, and enemies alike. Her superior attitude can oft be hypocritical, as it’s a trait she looks down on others for- especially when one does overcome her, leaving the general rather bitter. The Alexandrian General tends to mask emotions in both features and voice, specifically when in combat, as there is a certain thrill she wishes not to be known by others, though beckons for challenges. She attempts to hide her true feelings to others, considering them a weakness that could get in the way. However, her actions sometimes speak for themselves- placing her kingdom and others before her own needs. Others often find her behavior hostile and stern, yet underneath those thorns is a gentle heart. Despite the pride she has for her military position, Beatrix feels the touch of loneliness.

♛ Though modest, there remains a barrier among social class. Where her life is devoted to protecting her country and its people, she still has a slight superior outlook above others. ♛ She is incredibly strong and confident, but Beatrix will suppress and evade issues concerning herself and her feelings even among friends. ♛ A perfect soldier. No matter the order, it will be executed without question- even if innocents should perish by her sword. ♛ After the events of IX, Beatrix attempts to avoid some unnecessary conflict during walks and outings as opposed to her pride putting others in their place midst a crowded street. Not out of a desire to avoid fights, but feeling it beneficial after her and Alexandria’s involvement in the invasions of other nations.

***FFIX spoilers*** (this means you Sol)

From the Sleepless City of Treno, Beatrix seemed to be a prodigy with a blade from her youth and, romanced by the aspects and glory of war, enlisted in the Alexandrian royal army at 13 years of age. Skilled and never knowing defeat from any challenger, her arrogance grew, as did her reputation within the ranks and unto the royal family.

At 17, the king and queen requested she duel her senior of the Knights of Pluto, Adelbert Steiner. Though Beatrix was to be the obvious victor, Steiner emerged victorious by sheer luck. In doing so, Beatrix lost her right eye in the fight. So great was the determination to overcome the humiliation, the single loss fueled rigorous amounts of unhealthy training that in a year's time Beatrix had bested 100 knights, earned the title of "continent's best swordsman", and taken command as General of the all-female Alexandrian army.

During nine years, Beatrix's fame and devotion to queen and kingdom have not gone unnoticed. By way of Queen Brahne, Beatrix allies herself with a newcomer with a taste for war hailing from the Outer Continent by the name of Kuja, who manipulates his way into good graces.

With pieces strategically putting into play, Beatrix follows Brahne's orders conducting an invasion with Kuja's black mages into Burmecia, and later infiltrating, the City of Illusion, Cleyra to take a crystal shard- a key component needed to summon a powerful eidolon.

Though the Rose of May has doubts concerning her queen’s methods and reasoning their actions against the other kingdoms, she remains silent, even after learning of the Queen’s intentions to execute the Princess Garnet. For surely the Queen would not kill her only daughter. Realizing how blind she's been upon seeing the attempt made before her, Beatrix regains her clarity of the oath she made years ago and turns her back against her queen.

After Brahne's death, the general finds herself aiding Princess Garnet to take her mother's place as ruler. The coronation ceremony turns horrific when Kuja returns to call upon Bahamut and invading Alexandria with monster of the Mist. As Steiner and Beatrix evacuate civilians and fend off attacks from enemy forces, the great eidolon Alexander is summoned to protect the city. It's during the aftermath does Beatrix truly come face to face with with the error of her ways- to destroy Burmecia and then have her home destroyed in turn.

Beatrix remains with her beloved city, taking responsibility and leading efforts in wake of the destruction.

Midst rebuilding, there's reports of disturbances at the Iifa Tree. Taking charge alongside Regent Cid of Lindblum, Beatrix leads a fleet against a hoard of dragons surrounding the ancient tree of life while clearing a way for Zidane to enter Memoria and stop Kuja. When victory seems won and their enemy dead, Beatrix resumes work in Alexandria.

After two years, everything is rebuilt and life is returning to normal. Beatrix feels she's done all she can for Alexandria and attempts resigning her place as general in secret. However, she's caught while leaving and begged to stay for her work is not over. And discovers she'll not suffer alone in her guilt.

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

NASA orbiter spots Curiosity rover making tracks to next science stop

NASA's Curiosity Mars rover has never been camera shy, having been seen in selfies and images taken from space. But on Feb. 28—the 4,466th Martian day, or sol, of the mission—Curiosity was captured in what is believed to be the first orbital image of the rover mid-drive across the red planet.

Taken by the HiRISE (High-Resolution Imaging Science Experiment) camera aboard NASA's Mars Reconnaissance Orbiter, the image shows Curiosity as a dark speck at the front of a long trail of rover tracks. Likely to last for months before being erased by wind, the tracks span about 1,050 feet (320 meters).

They represent roughly 11 drives starting on Feb. 2 as Curiosity trucked along at a top speed of 0.1 mph (0.16 kph) from Gediz Vallis channel on the journey to its next science stop: a region with potential boxwork formations, possibly made by groundwater billions of years ago.

How quickly the rover reaches the area depends on a number of factors, including how its software navigates the surface and how challenging the terrain is to climb. Engineers at NASA's Jet Propulsion Laboratory in Southern California, which leads Curiosity's mission, work with scientists to plan each day's trek.

"By comparing the time HiRISE took the image to the rover's commands for the day, we can see it was nearly done with a 69-foot drive," said Doug Ellison, Curiosity's planning team chief at JPL.

Designed to ensure the best spatial resolution, HiRISE takes an image with the majority of the scene in black and white and a strip of color down the middle. While the camera has captured Curiosity in color before, this time the rover happened to fall within the black-and-white part of the image.

In the new image, Curiosity's tracks lead to the base of a steep slope. The rover has since ascended that slope since then, and it is expected to reach its new science location within a month or so.

IMAGE: NASA’s Curiosity rover appears as a dark speck in this contrast-enhanced view captured on Feb. 28, 2025, by the HiRISE camera aboard NASA’s Mars Reconnaissance Orbiter. Trailing Curiosity are the rover’s tracks, which can linger on the Martian surface for months before being erased by the wind. Credit: NASA/JPL-Caltech/University of Arizona

[vicepeddler]

Alright let's do this thing. First chapter of a WIP top-to-bottom rewrite of an old novel-length fic.

Content: Second-person male POV, 18+ subject matter, grown-up angst, fat appreciation, food appreciation

"Step into the shoes of a twenty-something white-collar man who is both starting to succeed at work but also haunted by whispers of ennui. An unwelcome morning shock is followed by a much more welcome shock as a distinctive acquaintance from years past reaches out, hoping to rekindle an old crush."

The elevator pitch is WIP too.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

POSITIVE INFLUENCE - Chapter 1

It is the start of a Tuesday in early May for the town of Northeaston, or "Anytown" for the hip: concrete suburbia struggling to conquer rolling hills, crashing into indomitable old-timey charm and piling into a modest but shiny city center. The sun has just peeked above the horizon, casting golden light across the land and into windows, stirring souls much like those you may already know, yet not quite the same. Eyes begin to open, lips take their first conscious breaths, hands flex and grasp for the first time in hours - a perfectly average morning. Except: eyes more readily take in the sight of an abundant human form, lips more easily curl into smiles at the prospect of a big meal, and hands are more accustomed to the feel of soft curves or warm rolls beneath them. This is a world whose inhabitants, quite simply, are down with the thickness.

Which brings us to you.

You are a twenty-something white-collar man, for our purposes we shall call you Anon. The warm golden tide of sunlight reaches your bedroom window and washes over you. You grumble something and turn your back on Sol's warmth, trying to miser a few more moments of sleep before beginning your own day.

A horrendous cacophony explodes from your nightstand. Not the prosaic clanging of your smartphone's alarm clock, a genuine electronic pandemonium, like an armful of dial-up modems screaming in terror before being devoured by an industrial shredder. Yanked immediately and thoroughly awake, heart pounding, you nearly fall out of bed scrambling over to determine exactly what the hell is going on with your device. Your phone screen is a roiling malebolge of alphanumeric characters, jpeg fragments and scintillating rogue pixels, and just as you're wondering if the formerly-trusty device is about to explode, a calm eye of sorts emerges amidst the digital storm.

Transfixed, you see some characters appear, clear as day, spelling out "Are you ready for this?"

All you can do is blink. As you behold but fail to process the spectacle, the first message disappears, replaced by "Chaos everywhere".

You stupidly gawp at the screen, and just as the gears finally begin to turn and you resolve to throw the cursed device out the window, stillness falls and the screen goes black. Two moments later, the reassuring routine of the boot cycle begins, the anodyne logo of the manufacturer lighting up the screen. Soon after, the boot process completes normally and the device cheerily displays the lock screen, a colorful abstract design.

With your free hand, you rub a temple and hiss to yourself, "what the fuck", hesitantly plugging in your passcode with the other thumb. The smartphone completes its boot cycle as though nothing happened - not a single pixel on your home screen seems to be out of place. You sigh, note the time, and manually disable the day's wakeup alarm, giving up on some extra shuteye and shuffling into your morning routine.

The spectacular malfunction of your phone is by far the most exciting thing to happen in months, and that realization gets you a touch reflective as you freshen up. Is this going to be your life from here on out? Morning coffee, modestly-challenging job, shuteye, then do it all over again for another thirty-plus years? Maybe get a house somewhere in there (if the earning situation keeps up, this'll actually be in the cards in a couple years)?

Good lord. Your frontal lobe has just finished baking and you're already thinking in terms of years. And there isn't even a lady in the picture, plus-sized or otherwise. After spitting out some toothpaste and rinsing out your mouth, you take a moment to stare down the man in the mirror. You're not exactly displeased: handsome by your own reckoning, though you perpetually wish you could make it to the gym more no matter how many ads or slogans you see extolling "soft boys". What does displease you is a refreshed sliver of white: a gray hair that first appeared front-and-center during a particularly tough round of final exams back in college. A moment with tweezers and the unwelcome memento mori is washed down the drain. With that, you let out a deep sigh, consciously draining some angst from your chest, which makes space to notice a gnawing sensation a bit further down. Perhaps adulting won't seem so dire after some breakfast.

While slouched into a kitchen chair and picking at some toast, your phone buzzes again. After your bizarre wakeup, the sound sends a lightning bolt through you, and you glance over half-expecting the thing to be on fire.

No fire, no malfunctions, but there is a surprise - a text from a number you don't recognize.

"Hey, is this Anon? You might not remember me, but we kinda knew each other back in high school."

Immediately followed up by, "OMG, I'm such an idiot! This is Val Sojka, if the name rings a bell?"

There's enough emojis to slow your parsing of the messages, but some teenage memories come rushing back. Val (short for Valentine, which she hated) was a striking figure in your class to say the least: Blonde, blue-eyed, fair-skinned, and athletic. Well, "athletic" is underselling it: she was a muscular six-foot-three, outweighed most adult men, and improbably was one of the all-time best tight ends on the football team, boy or girl. She's hard to forget.

Your pulse picks up as you reply, "Yeah, you've got Anon. I remember you! We were in Ms. Rosenthal's history class junior year, and we did that group presentation on the Cold War?"

"OMG yes! I knew I got the right Anon! lol so I know this is random, but can we catch up and chat sometime soon?"

You blink a few times and your heart skips a beat. This has to be for a good reason, right? No sense in looking a gift... muscle babe? in the mouth.

"I'd love to! But I've got to get to work and I'm having a weird morning to boot. I can try and find a minute later to hash out a time?"

"Ok! My schedule is actually pretty open, so just text me when you can!"

With that, you fire back a quick acknowledgment and finish your preparatory routine, but now infused with elated, nervous energy. As you hop into your car and head for work, you realize that you're actually badly out of the loop regarding your old friends. Sure, you're still close with Carlos and the dudes in his orbit, but he's about the only one you'd stayed in contact with. Your social media accounts are basically for show, and your circle was never particularly active online either.

As you round a corner and approach the drab block of your office, two thoughts strike you. First, if nothing else, (re?)connecting with Val would be a great chance to catch up with your old group by proxy. The second thought draws a smirk - maybe Val ran into the old "football player curse" and put on a little chub in the intervening years.

~~~~~

Morning in the office is a fluorescent blur. Spreadsheets, the same tired jokes about the weather, the same dirtlike breakroom coffee, stealth glances at well-fed office lady butts in plus-sized pants or skirts.

Around noon you take a much-needed break back to the real world, and trek out from the building, walking towards a food court a few minutes away. There's a few options, but a certain sandwich shop, the local Lotza's franchise, is your favorite. Not for the food, though it is solid.

The line stacked up before the ordering counter is actually a blessing in your book, because it gives you plenty of time to steal glances at a seemingly-omnipresent chubby cashier girl. Her black work jeans are practically sprayed over thick hips and a luscious tummy pooch, and her uniform shirt seems to strain with every motion of her plump middle and arms. A nametag, pinned conspicuously near plunging cleavage, declares the owner of said cleavage to be one Syl. A grin never leaves her round face as she effortlessly weaves small talk in between taking orders, and a short chestnut ponytail bounces around cheerfully as she gestures and works.

Soon enough you're face to face with Syl the cashier. A hand sinks into her denim-clad flank as she politely awaits your order.

"Hi, just a number 3 with an unsweet tea, please."

"Sure thing," she says with a smile. "Anything else?"

"Nah, that's it."

"You sure? You look pretty hungry to me." Now a grin, and a wink.

"Temptation," you laugh. "Just what I need! But no, I'm good."

She punches in your order to the screen while evenly retorting, "It's a lot easier than you'd think. Especially for a regular like you."

You must've replied with a stupid face, because Syl laughs again.

"Always gotta try!" She hands you a receipt. "It'll be ready in a few minutes."

A spin by the self-serve fountain, a double-check that you're indeed selecting the reserve of unsweetened tea, then a few awkward minutes with the other hungry patrons at the pickup area. The staff is working fast, and you've barely settled in to wait before you're scooping up your tray and making your way outside for some fresh air. An unbidden vision of Syl growing fatter in real-time, her strained uniform growing tighter, and tighter, seams starting to give... You mentally swat away the spicy but ill-timed fantasy and find a free table.

The number three is a turkey sandwich, stacked with a quotidian array of lettuce, tomato, and mayo, but with a rather uniquely quality toasted bun. You've barely swallowed the first bite of your meal when a gruff voice erupts to your side.

"She did WHAT? Oh, not again..."

Managing not to jump, you turn towards the voice and take in a sturdy but scruffy blue-collar guy leaning against a nearby table. One hand holds a cell phone to his ear, the other rubs a gray-streaked temple. Judging from the fluorescent hi-vis vest (partially hiding a Dropkick Murphys t-shirt) you guess the guy's working at one of the nearby construction projects.

"Well if little miss Carol actually apologized this time, I'll make sure my daughter does too."

Silence on this end of the line, then, "Right. I appreciate that, I suppose. Yes, I'll be able to pick her up after school today. And yes, I'll talk to her. Again."

With that, the guy hangs up and slams a hand onto the table, cursing not quite under his breath. He glances up and makes eye contact with you. You know better than to play innocent, so you simply play the situation straight. "Sorry, man, wasn't trying to eavesdrop. Everything ok?"

His body language is hard to get a fix on. After a tense moment he says, "Not really. My daughter got into another fight at school today."

The man's stark admission isn't particularly surprising, but it's still jarring. "I'm sorry to hear that. Teenager?"

A "yeah" plus a glance off to the side. The next moment, the man's gaze is back on you.

"Honestly, I'm at fuckin'... wit's end, dude. If you've got any ideas, I - nah, that's stupid. I shouldn't be bothering you with my problems."

Something about his weary body language grabs at you. "It's ok. What kind of advice? Dunno how much help I'd be, but I can give it a shot."

The man visibly slouches a touch more and sighs, "You sure?"

You nod and set your sandwich down. This seems serious.

"My daughter Lisa, she's fifteen and... Ugh, it's so crazy, man. She's turned into a total wild card, I don't know where it came from. She could be a complete hellion one moment, and the next she's apologizin' from the bottom of her heart."

After a long pause, "I just don't know what to do. Part of me's thinkin' about military school. All this is on top of her getting arrested last week!" He quickly clarifies, probably to answer your raised eyebrows, "They let her off with a warning, but still. I'm just worried that she's on a fast track to some real trouble."

Gesturing at a nearby seat, you finally reply, "Geez, that does sound serious. But maybe we can put our heads together."

The man extends his hand, and the two of you shake. His grip is calloused and firm, but respectful - he doesn't try to yank your arm off. "Duane."

"Anon. Nice to meet you."

After Duane sits, a small smile cracks his face. He smells a bit like an ashtray. "To be fair, the arrest was for some bullshit loitering charge. I got into way worse trouble when I was her age, heh. Thank God we didn't have the internet back then."

He chuckles again, and you offer a small laugh in return.

"So," you start cautiously. "I'm not a dad, and I don't know shit about raising any sort of kid, much less a teenage girl. But if you're asking me to talk off the cuff..."

"I think I am."

"It sounds like your daughter might be acting out for attention? It's a real common thing for teenagers, or so I've heard."

Duane gazes past you and watches a few cars roll by on the nearby road. "I'd considered that," he eventually replies. "Everything's been fucked since the divorce."

Taken aback, you avoid stammering, "I'm sorry?"

"Don't be. There's a reason I got custody. But that's a whole 'nother can of worms."

Another pause, but Duane continues monologuing a bit. Maybe he just needed a sympathetic ear. "I know I haven't been around much. I'm busting my ass to keep a roof over our heads, but I know little Lisa isn't seeing that. She just sees her dad isn't around much."

"That's gotta be real tough. I couldn't imagine, Duane."

"Yeah..."

An awkward pause, then an idea. "The two of you must bond over something, right? Uh, maybe there's a class that she really enjoys?"

Duane's eyes seem to light up a bit. "Lisa gets ok grades, but now that you've mentioned it - we took a trip to the Carbon Spires National Park last year. She took so many pictures with her crummy lil' phone, I saved some cash and got her a proper digital camera that Christmas!"

"Hey, that's something!"

"God, I've been so burnt-out from work, I barely noticed she's been snapping up tons of pictures." Duane scratches his stubbly chin pensively. He hammers a fist onto the chintzy table, drawing a couple nearby sets of eyes. "I'm going to set aside more energy for her. She's my goddamned daughter. She deserves nothing less!"

You grin at your surprise guest. "She's got to know you're busting your ass, and I'm sure that even a quick photo review session would mean a lot to her!"

Duane grins at you and grips your shoulder. Internally you hope he isn't smudging your shirt, but you're more charmed by this moment of human connection. "Maybe she'd be into some photography lessons," he muses. "It'd be a way to keep her out of trouble too.."

The two of you share a quick laugh, then with a metallic scrape, the older man is back on his feet. "Man I picked a winner, huh?" He chuckles. Before he turns to leave, he fishes something out from his vest pocket. It's a business card, a little bent up but otherwise fine. "Hey, Anon, you're alright. Dunno if you'd want to keep in touch with ol' Duane, but if ya do..."

Accepting the card, you reply, "Thanks man. I just hope I gave you good advice!"

He turns a bit more, but another laugh, "Can't hurt! And if worse comes to worse, I'll figure something out. I'm a big boy after all!"

And with that, he's dipped into the sandwich shop, doubtless an easy mark for Syl's upselling charms. You do actually load Duane's contact info into your phone, praying that the device won't eat the data with another digital seizure some day.

The rest of your meal is blessedly lonely. Soon enough, you've tossed your trash and are headed back out of the restaurant, though not before stealing one more glance at Syl. This time she's unwittingly struck a pouty pose, chubby hip checked to the side as she glares at an apparently-misbehaving register.

You only allow yourself a moment, and are promptly pounding concrete on the way back to your office building. Thoughts of your eventful lunch plague you, but Duane's predicament just doesn't stick. Maybe you push him and his daughter aside because you've already done all you reasonably can to help. In spite of your altruistic instincts, of course it's Syl, that rubenesque sandwich goddess, who takes up the most space in your mind.

"You look pretty hungry to me..."

Quit thinking with your dick, man. Yeah, you are in fact hungry, maybe because you've been single for too long. Besides, she probably says that to everybody.

~~~~~

You push past the glass doors of your office building, heave your way back up the stairs, and yawn. Though the morning's phone incident was close to your normal wake-up time, you still blame the malfunction for cutting into your energy. Need coffee. Roll past the cubicle farm and into the little breakroom. There's a pot ready, so you load up a paper cup, blow across the rim, and stare into the liquid darkness, thinking. Not about Syl or Duane, or even Val for that matter. The change of location has gotten your head back in the game, and now you're mulling over customs laws for a demanding client who wants a shipment of fancy Indonesian ironwood timber.

The sound of nearby footsteps pulls you back to the moment. You look up from the caffeinated abyss and spot your coworker Kelly, emerging from the shared fridge with a flat container and a slightly-concerned expression. Though she's about your age, Kelly has a powerful "team mom" aura, an impression only enhanced by her plump busty figure and disarming squirrely smile. "You doing ok, Anon?" she asks.

You return a wry grin. "I'm having a weird day, and that ironwood contract makes me want to die."

"Awww," she bursts out simultaneously laughing and cooing. "You having a delayed case of the Mondays?"

"Guess so, heh."

Without another word, Kelly holds out her arms, offering a hug as she frequently does. You let her come in, and return the brief embrace with your free arm. It's comforting to be sure, but you don't dwell on the sensation - Kelly is very much taken and this is a professional environment after all.

She pulls away, apparently satisfied with the change in your expression or bearing.

"Guess I needed that," you quip.

"That's what they all say! Listen, Anon, boss man gave you that project because he knows you can handle it, and I believe in you too!"

"Thanks, K. I gotta get back to it."

Kelly gives you a polite wave and returns to her lunch container (something with rice), and you start back to your cube. A few moments later, you're settling into your chair and trying to find your center amidst the busy buzz of the office.

One last distraction though. You break out your phone and finally dash off a text to Val. "Hey, this morning's been crazy, but do you still want to hash out a meetup time? Also, can I ask why you've reached out? Did something happen?"

A reply comes surprisingly promptly, "I just wanted to see you and to reminisce. Is that suspicious somehow lol?"

You're trying to read between the lines and failing. Is Val actually hitting on you?

Gather more information. "Gonna be honest, I'm pretty out of the loop too, but last I saw you were pretty steady with Dale."

"Don't worry about him," comes back with a cluster of cheeky emojis.

Your eyes bug out and you need a moment to compose your next message, "I can't help but be worried about Big Dale, Val. If you're asking me to go behind his back, he will literally kill me. Maybe eat me too, like with a fork."

There's a long pause on the other end, then you see the bouncing triple dots indicating an in-progress response. You count off a solid 100 seconds before Val's next message finally lands: "Dale and I have been split up for months, but yeah I guess you wouldn't have a way of knowing that."

In spite of the angst-soaked words, your heart soars, and a smile immediately cracks your face. And there's more.

"Anon, to tell the truth, I had a crush on you back then and I think I still do. Sorry to ruin the surprise lol."

Sheer elation nearly knocks you from your chair, but before you can begin to compose a reply, Val drops another bomb: "To keep telling the truth, senior year I was going to ask you to prom. I made a deal with Dale and everything. But you got to Jen literally one day before. OMG I was so jealous!"

You must've made some sort of weird noise, because your cube neighbor rolls back and gives you a concerned look. He returns to his workstation after you give him a halfhearted "I'm ok" gesture.

A breath to recenter, and you decide to stick with the reminiscing. "Val, that's simply amazing. And I thought that prom already had so much drama around it. Lena and I made a deal too, but I still thought she was going to kill me when she actually saw Jen on my arm."

"OMG right? I remember that! And I remember how happy Jen looked... See, this is why we need to catch up, Anon!"

A glance up to the heavens, and a subvocalized "I don't know why I deserve this, but thank you God".

Looking back at the screen, about all you can muster is a simple, "When and where do you want to meet?"

"Dinnertime, so about six-ish and at my place?" Val attaches her current address and instructions to reach her specific condo unit.

You do a little mental math before sending your reply, "Would you mind if I headed there straight after work? I'll probably be a bit early if I do that."

"Perfectly fine! I'll see you this evening!" The added heart-studded emojis are probably just Val being over-the-top girly. Probably?

The afternoon is intractable. Constant false-starts on finding the appropriate customs forms and regulations are driving you nuts, but you do eventually nail down the applicable statutes in the waning hour of the workday. Having reached a stopping point, and way more excited about what awaits you on the outside, you're promptly hauling ass to your car and down the road. For a moment, until you run into the rush hour. Plus an accident. Plus some roadwork. All told it takes you almost 45 infuriating minutes to reach Val's place, though it probably won't be so bad next time.

~~~~~

Val lives in a rather unorthodox modern-style condo complex with generous covered parking. Double-checking to ensure you're in a visitor or undesignated spot, you shut down the engine and practically skip through the hallway toward Val's unit. Everything is clean and bright in desaturated earth-tones, the condo doors painted in a gradient of calming grays and browns. Val's door is a pale taupe, somehow almost purple-ish. For a moment you consider sending a text to announce your arrival, but decide instead to just go for it. Thrice you smartly rap your knuckles on the door. It feels fairly solid. A moment later the latch clicks and the door swings open.

The first thing you do is tilt your head back slightly, and you're eye-to-eye with Val Sojka for the first time in years. Her eyes are crystal-blue, nestled under prominent cheekbones and framed by a fair heart-shaped face. The fluffy bun topping her head is every bit as blonde as you remember and a touch messy. A calm smile plays on her lips, with an unplaceable energy bubbling beneath the surface. You can feel your pulse thrumming from your chest up into your temples.

"Heyyy! Glad to see you could make it, Anon! C'mon in!"

Val reaches out, perhaps to touch your shoulder, but stops short, instead beckoning you over the threshold. So much for her getting chubby - Val's arm is every bit as wiry and sturdy as you remember, maybe even moreso. In spite of yourself and your own preferences, your gaze sticks to her forearm for a long instant, fascinated by the taut interplay of tendons and muscle as she gestures.

Somehow you're across the threshold and the door latches behind you.

"Anon, are you ok?"

You blink and your mind returns to your own body. Val's front door opens into a rather wide tiled space, a dining table to your right and a kitchen area to the left. Covered cookware and scattered packaging tells you that Val was cooking even before the aroma of sauteed garlic hits your nose.

"Wha? Oh yeah, sorry. Guess I'm a little out of it, today's been crazy," you answer a little sheepishly.

"That's alright," Val laughs. "Sounds like you could use some dinner. Chicken alfredo sound good? Oh, wait - gosh I should have asked first!"

"Relax, I'm not a picky eater, especially if somebody else cooked. I'm sure it'll be great," you say politely.

Val grins and leads you over to the table, and you glance at her figure while she double-checks the table setting. Yep, still just as tall and imposingly-built as you recall. Her outfit is a mix of complement and concealment: knee-length capris that hug her powerful thighs and show off her calves, paired with a loose purple t-shirt draped over doubtlessly shredded abs. A moment later, you sit.

You barely have time to fiddle with the weighty silverware before Val swoops by the table with a steaming pot of pasta and spoons a generous portion into your bowl. She sits across from you and barely fits a double-portion into her own bowl.

"Bon appetit!" She giggles, and digs in without a reply from you.

And with that, you start in too, twisting up a small tangle of fettuccine, dripping in creamy sauce. It's good: first thing you notice is the smooth, savory hit of the sauce, counterweighted with a strong but not overpowering note of garlic. Something has you suspecting that she made the sauce from scratch, and the gentle not-quite-crunch of the al dente noodles adds to your enjoyment. Taking another bite, you go for a chunk of chicken. Breast meat, and a good cut, flavored through without drying out at all.

"This is really good, thanks for cooking and for having me over, Val." You don't even have to try to sound appreciative.

Val slurps a stray length of pasta past her lips, licks away a blob of cream, and swallows heavily before replying. "Thanks!" She beams, "I've really gotten into cooking, and I just plain kind of like doing nice things for my friends."

"So we're friends already?" You grin.

"Why wouldn't we be?"

"Got me there."

Another awkward bite or two, and you peek over to see that Val is seriously outpacing you, even counting her larger portion. Somehow you manage to keep a poker face and attempt to restart the conversation. "So... Uh, I managed to spoil one of the reasons you wanted me to come over, but wasn't there another?" You ask, not certain how to address Val's confessed crush.

Val again has to swallow before speaking. "Honestly the crush was the big one," she giggles, and your heart again soars. Contrasting with her imposing physique, Val's voice is on the higher side and very girly. Her giggles immediately set you smiling. "But I have been in touch with who I think was your old ladyfriend cabal?"

Now it's your turn to down a bite of pasta before replying. "You mentioned Lena and Jen. How about Zoe and Vicky?"

"Vicky! I knew it was something with a V," Val snaps her fingers. "Well, lemme start from the beginning. Lena and I ran into each other at the mall a few months back. We wound up next to each other in line for a food stall and got to talking."

Val takes another small bite, "She's doing good. Got a biology degree, works at some sort of lab or a clinic these days? Could never really keep the details straight. We actually do little meal meetups pretty regularly, it's how I met - re-met? - the others."

You let Val continue as she counts off one-by-one on her fingers. "I'm not 100% on what Jen did after high school, but these days she works at her family's cafe. Zoe got some kind of business-related degree down in Novaville, and she does something with quality; still with Matt actually."

In spite of yourself you smirk. Sounds like the two teenage sweethearts are still treating each other right. Val doesn't notice your expression. "Vicky got an engineering degree, I forget where. She's always really busy but she loves her work."

"Geez," you exhale. "Now I feel like an asshole for not staying in touch."

"Hey, this is a way of staying in touch."

"Well how about yourself?" You ask.

Val's demeanor darkens a little bit. She pushes around a clump of pasta for a long moment before answering. "Well, I couldn't get a sports scholarship or an academic scholarship, and... well... the money situation wasn't great for a degree, so I started working pretty quick."

"No sports scholarship?" You blurt out, probably unwisely. "That's ridiculous!"

More pasta nudging before Val's sigh and reply. "I know. But it all worked out."

You feel a little warm under the collar. "Sorry, I didn't mean to-"

Val fixes you with a small smile, "It's alright. Really. It sucks, it's unfair, but that's life. I got started as a personal trainer. Surprisingly lucrative, at least it was for me."

She finally spears a morsel and downs it before continuing, "Saved up some money, did some thinking, and started taking night classes for a finance associate's degree. I'm... doing ok for myself now."

Something tells you that Val is not a good keeper of secrets, but you don't pry. "What matters is that things worked out, right?"

"Yeah, haha. Got a nice place, made some new old friends, and now..." Val's eyes seem to glint in the evening light, "I've got my old teenage crush trapped in my lair." Her smile is toothy but lacks any real menace.

"Val, are you asking me out?" You laugh.

"I think we skipped that step," she retorts. "You are actually single, right?"

"Yeah," you reply a tad hesitantly. "Honestly all of this just... seems too easy? Too good to be true?"

"Sometimes nice things happen for no particular reason. You got lucky, the stars aligned from your perspective. Why overthink it?" Val breezily props her chin against her knuckles.

You need a moment to think about the conversation's turn, ironically enough.

"Speaking of thinking," Val interrupts your nascent internal monologue, "I think I could use some chocolate. You ready for dessert?"

"Sure," you answer, immediately moving to scarf down the last remnants in your bowl. Truthfully the rich pasta was more than satisfying, but you're presently very concerned with ingratiating yourself to Val.

She rises to her feet and strides across the dining area. You make sure to steal a glance at her toned backside as she walks, especially when she bends down and reaches into the fridge. Does she know you're staring?

The next moment you've snapped your gaze innocently forward again, and Val glides back to the table, depositing a neatly-arranged plate of brownies and two fresh glasses of milk.

"Made 'em today!" Val says brightly before scooping up one of the chocolaty bricks and taking a huge bite.

Weighed down by all the carbs and butter, your stomach gurgles uncomfortably at the sight. Still, you want to be a good guest, so you tear one of the brownies in half and sink your teeth in. It's admittedly fantastic - the cold temperature is refreshing and adds a nice feel of resistance to the fudgy matrix. The unmistakable smooth complexity of dark cacao sinks deeply into your gums and tongue as you chew - Val must have also sprung for primo ingredients here.

You're nibbling at the half-brownie, easing the treat into your belly, when you spot movement. Val's going for seconds. Or rather, seconds and thirds, alternating bites from fresh brownies in either hand.

Val catches your eye, and you must've made some sort of face, because she shoots you an impish chocolate-flecked smile. "What?" She chortles, "I'm a girl. This is chocolate. Do the math!"

Closing your eyes and putting on what you hope is a sage expression, you reply, "It's rude to comment on others' eating habits."

Val smirks back at you, then pops the last hunk of one brownie into her mouth and says around it, "Well what if I'd like you to comment on what I just ate?"

This throws you, but only for a moment. Was Val always this much of a trip? Evenly you reply, "Well, you're bigger than me and you look like you're still working out. It makes sense you'd have an appetite, though admittedly this isn't exactly performance food."

Val sucks some chocolate from her thumb then extracts the digit with a soft pop. Reaching for a fourth (!?) brownie, she replies, "That's because it obviously isn't!"

"Val, I'm confused. Where are you going with this?"

She gulps down a mouthful of chocolate and looses a quiet moan before bluntly addressing you, "Anon, I've been eating like this for the past three months."

Pieces, threads, bits of evidence, appear in your head and start floating around like some mental conspiracy board, but nothing's quite lining up. You think for a long moment. Even if Val had a ridiculous metabolism - not implausible, it'd match her powerful physique - three months of meals like this would surely stick something to her.

"You're pulling my leg."

"I promise you I'm not. And again," Val's face takes on a curious expression, "I'm directly asking you to comment on that fact." She then pauses her chocolate binge and poses gently, making sure to flex her arms and chest. With a half-eaten brownie in either hand, the net effect is incongruous and amusing.

"You're sure?"

"Yes!" with noticeable annoyance.

"Wow. Well," you start. "Three months of a heavy surplus and no fat gain seems... strange. Though you probably know way more about bodybuilding and macros and stuff than me."

"Anon," Val fixes you with a serious look. "This is also hard to believe, but I never paid attention to that stuff either. I just ate whatever, worked out, and got stronger. I have never done a proper bulk-and-cut cycle."

"Honestly? That sounds like the exact opposite of a problem."

"It's the entire problem!" Val almost yells but pulls herself back. "Anon, I... Haven't told many people this but - I like being strong, but I... I actually really, really want to be curvy."

"You want to get fatter?" Even to you, in this more enlightened place and time, the words feel surreal coming off of your lips.

"Fat? Heh," There's the merest glint of mania in Val's blue eyes. "I want to be huge."

She just laughs at your wordless staring reply.

"And that is the other actual reason I wanted to talk and catch up," Val explains. "I wanted to see if your old feeder magic still worked."

Ah shit, not that stupid rumor again.

"Val..." you groan, tiredly pinching the bridge of your nose. "This would be a lot for any day, and today was so fucking wild already..."

"I'm sorry... Should I drop it?"

"No," you groan again. "Just gimme a second to think."

You probably take over a minute before speaking again. "Ok, one thing at a time. Val, how long have you wanted to get fatter?"

Val dabs her mouth with a napkin. Aside from the specimen you tore in half, the brownies are all gone. She stifles a small burp, then puts on a pensive face and replies, "Honestly, probably for about as long as I can remember. I can't point to any specific experience or memory off the top of my head."

"Interesting. Now, on to this feeder business," Your tone hardens a bit. "I will not deny that I like bigger girls. That said, I did not feed or encourage any of the girls in my orbit to gain weight. Not Lena, not Zoe, not Vicky."

A pause, then with an authoritative upturned index finger, "I'll admit a sorta for Jen, but only because she was clearly underweight and trying to change that for a long time."

Val looks at you with an unreadable expression. Confusion coupled with interest? "Why the rumor then?"

"Damned if I know. Teenagers are awful. Maybe because I picked up the tab for sides or extra helpings once in a while? Maybe because I stuck up for my friends when dipshit jocks tried to bully them?"

Val seems to flinch at the "dipshit jocks" comment, then takes a long moment to digest this revelation. One of her hands is under the table, probably rubbing her belly. In spite of the moment and yourself you can't help but wonder how that washboard stomach looks when filled with huge meal. "So you're not actually a feeder, huh?" The disappointment in her voice is impossible to miss.

You nearly choke on your sip of milk. After recovering, you admit, "I could be? Er, I am? I... suppose I identify as one? On paper? Internally. But it's not something I've ever intentionally done. It... just feels like something intimate. Like something you should only do within a couple."

Val grins at you, "So what if we became a couple?" As she speaks, she reaches out and gently grips your hand. Sure enough, she's got some slight weight-lifter calluses, but her touch radiates nothing but tenderness, femininity, and desire.

Never mind your heart skipping a beat, your whole body seems to miss a few entire moments from sheer excitement.

"I'd like that," comes out of your smiling mouth with no conscious action, and your heart soars.

[automaticrain00]

Deck Step Lighting: Best Ideas to Brighten Up Your Outdoor Space

Enhance safety and style with deck step lighting. Discover the best deck and patio lighting solutions to illuminate stairs, pathways, and outdoor spaces with energy-efficient and stylish designs.

Deck step lighting is an essential addition to any outdoor space, providing both functional and aesthetic benefits.

Proper deck and patio lighting ensures safety by preventing trips and falls while enhancing the ambiance of your outdoor area.

Well-placed lighting on stairs not only makes your deck more usable at night but also creates a sophisticated, modern look.

Whether you prefer a subtle glow or a bright, energy-efficient option, there are plenty of lighting solutions to match your style.

Benefits of Deck Step Lighting

Improved Safety

Prevents accidents by illuminating steps and pathways.

Reduces the risk of falls, especially in low-light conditions.

Enhances visibility for guests navigating the deck at night.

Aesthetic Appeal

Highlights architectural details of your deck and patio.

Creates a warm, inviting atmosphere.

Available in various styles, from modern recessed lights to decorative side-mounted fixtures.

Extended Outdoor Use

Allows you to enjoy your deck and patio during the evening.

Provides functional lighting for outdoor dining, entertaining, or relaxing.

Increases property value by enhancing curb appeal.

Best Deck Step Lighting Ideas

Recessed Step Lights

Installed directly into stair risers for a sleek, modern look.

Provides subtle yet effective illumination without glare.

Ideal for creating a seamless, professional finish.

LED Strip Lighting for Steps

Mounted underneath stair treads for a continuous, soft glow.

Energy-efficient, long-lasting, and available in multiple colors.

Works well for both traditional and contemporary deck and patio lighting.

Solar-Powered Step Lights

A cost-effective and eco-friendly solution.

Requires no wiring—charges during the day and lights up automatically at night.

Perfect for decks where electrical wiring is challenging to install.

Motion Sensor Step Lights

Activates only when movement is detected, conserving energy.

Enhances security by deterring intruders.

Ideal for homes with children or elderly family members who need extra visibility at night.

Side-Mounted Stair Lights

Installed along stair edges or walls for a decorative glow.

Adds both safety and ambiance without overpowering the space.

Works well with modern, rustic, or classic deck designs.

Smart Deck Step Lighting

Controlled via smartphone apps, allowing you to adjust brightness and color.

Can be programmed to turn on/off automatically.

Integrates with home automation systems for added convenience.

How to Choose the Right Deck and Patio Step Lighting

When selecting deck step lighting, consider the following factors

Brightness & Color Temperature: Warm white lighting creates a cozy atmosphere, while cool white enhances visibility.

Durability & Weather Resistance: Choose waterproof, rust-proof fixtures for long-term outdoor use.

Power Source: Decide between hardwired, solar-powered, or battery-operated lights based on your deck’s setup.

Style & Design: Ensure the lighting complements your deck and patio aesthetics while providing the right amount of illumination.

Installation Tips for Deck Step Lighting

Plan the layout carefully to avoid dark spots or overly bright areas.

Space out the lights evenly for balanced illumination without harsh shadows.

Ensure proper wiring and transformer setup for low-voltage LED options.

Position solar-powered lights in direct sunlight for optimal charging.

Use weatherproof connectors and casings to protect electrical components from moisture and dirt.

Maintenance and Care for Outdoor Step Lighting

To keep your deck and patio lighting in excellent condition:

Clean light fixtures regularly to remove dirt and debris that can block illumination.

Check for loose wiring or corrosion and make necessary adjustments.

Replace batteries in solar and battery-operated lights to ensure consistent performance.

Protect fixtures from harsh weather conditions by choosing high-quality, weather-resistant materials.

Conclusion Of Deck and Patio Lighting

By incorporating these deck step lighting ideas, you can enhance both the safety and beauty of your outdoor space. Whether you opt for recessed fixtures, motion sensor lights, or smart LED solutions, choosing the right deck and patio lighting ensures a well-lit, stylish, and functional deck.

FAQs Of Deck and Patio Lighting

Q1: What is the best way to light deck steps?

A: The best deck step lighting options include recessed step lights, LED strips, and solar-powered fixtures. Motion sensor lights are also great for added security and energy efficiency.

Q2: Are solar step lights bright enough?

A: Yes! High-quality solar deck and patio lighting provides sufficient brightness for safe navigation while being energy-efficient and maintenance-free.

Q3: How do I install deck step lights without wiring?

A: You can use battery-operated or solar-powered lights for easy, wire-free installation. Simply mount them onto the steps or stair risers for instant illumination.

[carmensolny]

How to Choose the Perfect Slide for Your Kid: Top Trends and Safety Tips

In the world of children's entertainment, few things spark as much joy as a well-designed slide. Whether it's at the local park, a friend's backyard, or your own home, slides offer endless fun and excitement for kids of all ages. However, when it comes to choosing the perfect slide for your little one, there are several factors to consider to ensure both enjoyment and safety. In this comprehensive guide, we'll explore the top trends in kids slides and provide essential safety tips to help you make the best choice for your child's playtime adventures.

1. Understanding Kids Slides:

Before delving into the selection process, it's crucial to understand the different types of slides available in the market. From traditional playground slides to inflatable options, there's a wide variety to choose from, each catering to specific age groups and preferences. Toddler slides, for instance, are designed with shorter heights and gentler slopes to accommodate younger children, while larger slides with twists and turns are more suitable for older kids seeking an adrenaline rush.

2. Top Trends in Kids Slides:

In recent years, the landscape of kids slides has evolved, with manufacturers introducing innovative features to enhance safety and enjoyment. One prominent trend is the incorporation of vibrant colors and playful designs to stimulate children's imagination and creativity. Additionally, slides with adjustable heights and modular components have gained popularity, allowing for customization to suit different age groups and skill levels.

Another emerging trend is the integration of interactive elements such as water sprays and sound effects, transforming ordinary slides into immersive play experiences. These interactive features not only add an element of excitement but also encourage physical activity and sensory exploration.

3. Safety First:

When it comes to children's play equipment, safety should always be a top priority. Before purchasing a slide, thoroughly inspect its construction and materials to ensure durability and stability. Opt for slides made from high-quality materials such as durable plastic or metal, with smooth edges and secure fastenings to prevent accidents.

Moreover, consider the location and placement of the slide, ensuring it is placed on a level surface away from obstacles and hazards. Regularly inspect the slide for any signs of wear and tear, and follow manufacturer guidelines for assembly and maintenance to ensure long-term safety.

4. Choosing the Right Size:

When selecting a slide for your child, consider their age, size, and developmental stage. Toddlers and younger children may prefer smaller slides with low platforms and gentle slopes, while older kids may enjoy larger slides with taller heights and more challenging features.

Additionally, take into account the available space in your backyard or play area, ensuring the slide fits comfortably without overcrowding or obstruction. Measure the dimensions of the slide and compare them to your available space to avoid any surprises upon delivery.

5. The Importance of Proper Footwear:

Finally, don't overlook the importance of proper footwear when using slides. Encourage your child to wear supportive shoes with good traction to prevent slips and falls, especially on slick surfaces. Avoid shoes with open toes or loose straps that could get caught on the slide or cause tripping hazards.

In conclusion, choosing the perfect slide for your kid requires careful consideration of various factors, including design, safety features, and suitability for your child's age and size. By staying informed about the latest trends and prioritizing safety, you can create a fun and engaging play environment that sparks joy and fosters healthy development.

Looking for high-quality kids slides and accessories? Check out Carmen Sol's range of durable and stylish play equipment designed to inspire endless hours of fun and adventure for your little ones. With a commitment to safety and innovation, Carmen Sol offers a wide selection of slides and playsets that combine quality craftsmanship with vibrant aesthetics, making them the perfect choice for your child's playtime adventures.

[espithewarlock]

hello espiiiiiii 🤍🤍🤍🤍 for the wrapped thing, 20 and 30 pls? ✨

anything for you, sol!! 💚

20 - Which work of yours have you reread the most?

I reread my stuff constantly while I'm working on it. Every fic gets at least one reread in gdocs before it gets loaded to AO3 & one reread in AO3 before I hit post. After I hit post I am extremely unlikely to reread any of them, with few exceptions:

Love Comes Wearing Disguises (Baker!Pierre x Prince!Charles)

Coloring Outside the Lines (Ferrari!Pierre x OnlyFans!Charles)

Bittersweet, That Glitter (Dragon!Pierre x Potions Apprentice!Charles)

These three fall into what I call my long-form oneshots and I adore them so much. These are the fics that feel like me, like my signature works, and I'm thrilled with how each of them turned out. (The fact that other people like them too is, frankly, mind-boggling.)

30 - Biggest surprise while writing this year?

Probably that I work very well with prompts. 1016 week was the first time I had written works using prompts and I was surprised by how much I enjoyed it and the stuff I managed to produce for that week.

My PWFE is going extremely well, and it's something atypical for me but I'm enjoying writing it quite a bit. The prompt I got for that was very inspiring!

So I have plenty of my own ideas that I'm working on, and I'm also looking forward to more prompt-based challenges!

(And can I also add that I am continuously stunned by the outpouring of love & support from the Piarles community? It's so lovely to write in such a positive space.)