#anyways. regardless of what anyone else has to say

[crystalizedcryolite]

While waiting for me to finally finish the next chapter..

DESIGN ANALYSIS FOR MY VIGILANTE AU >:D

As always, let's start in rainbow order! But first things first; all CG members have matching eyes, in one way or another! Red has yellow eyes, Orange has green eyes, Yellow has orange eyes, Green has blue eyes, and Blue has red eyes!! I might change things depending on how it looks, though.

Anyway, Red!!

I'll admit, I'm definitely giving him a design upgrade, but let's talk about this one.

Ah, the classic yellow bandanna. How could I leave it out? It's iconic!

His hair is definitely the wildest out of everyone's. A lot of black and grey in his design, too, which makes the yellow bits and the light-up shoes REALLY stand out.

The yellow matches his eyes and bandanna, and is reminiscent of that media trope with seeing yellow eyes peek from the darkness. The mask is, of course, to hide his face. Red didn't really seem like the guy to wear a visor like Green, or cover his entire face like Blue, so he gets that mask! Might change that, who knows.

His outfit looks thrown together with not that amount of effort. Very casual, as Green pointed out. Before Orange, he was the latest addition to the team, which can mean he can be a bit inexperienced. Wanted to convey that somehow!

Light-up shoes, oh, light-up shoes... who doesn't love them? Green certainly doesn't, but Red disagrees!

Next one!

Orange/Sketch

Now, I didn't draw their vigilante outfit yet, but I added the description of it to give an idea!

I wanted her hair to give a very anime-protagonist feel, if that made sense? Not sure if I got that right but it works for me! And hey! Freckles!

Working clothes: His pants are covered in paint to give an artist-like feel. (I should know. I paint a lot and some of my clothes did NOT survive the process.) As for the top and apron, I wanted it to feel like an actual café worker's uniform without it being a basic starbucks rip-off.

Vigilante outfit: VERY reminiscent of outfits animated characters would wear in scenes where they're doing some graffiti on the streets. That was my main inspiration behind the design.

Also in dark colors. They have to blend into the darkness and stuff!

The pouch mentioned was for practical sake; as is something I like to do when thinking of designs. And it helps with the artistic urge to draw at any time, regardless of what the situation is.

Not much to say about Orange's design, besides the fact that I wanted to give it a very protagonist-y vibe.

Yellow/Y

The second design is more or less his actual vigilante outfit, buuuut yeah!

Curly hair -despite my inability to draw it- and Yellow has been a favorite hc of mine!

His outfit is somewhat inspired by steampunk? Not exactly, but I DID have steampunk in mind while making it! The pilot's jacket was the best change yet.

Someone on a03 has told me that he looks like Alan, somehow! I'm not sure if I see it, so does anyone else see it? It would be a funny coincidence if so!

Green/Songbird

His hair is my favorite part of my Green design so I HAD to keep it! The classic headphones are there with a gamer-ish colour scheme.

VERY hip-hop and streetdance inspired! His visor is a reference to the sunglasses Orange gave him in the "More Faces" short, rather than his sunglasses in the Influencer Arc.

His clothes are a reference to the clothes I see my sister wear for her own dance training, and I love streetwear in general, so its a perfect fit! The necklace is just for show, though. Nothing practical about that, but it does look cool! Plus, it's a notion to his powers! His outfit is practical, but still shows off somehow, just like Green!

My vigilante!Green is the most experienced in the group, so I wanted him to look that way, somehow? And he definitely looks the most professional! I think!

Blue/The Witch

The second member to join the vigilante team!

I HAD to give her a hat. The witch's hat is a must. Practical? Not exactly. Cool? Yes, indeed.

The mask is my favorite part. A direct reference to the "Faces" short, AND a good way for Blue to, ahem, mask her identity (hehe a pun)

The sweater and coat combination seems strange, but it looks a little like a modern witch outfit? Trenchcoats definitely give a vigilante vibe in a way, and Yellow already had one, so Blue gets a belt and a sweater to go with it!

Blue definitely needed a bag for her potions. She can't just make them on the spot!- well, she can, but it would still be a hassle! She'd be the most practical when it comes to her clothing for vigilantism, after Yellow.

Purple/Aeolus!

Obviously, the cloak is a reference to elytra. The green hairtie, the bag and the cloak buckle is a reference to their mother, Orchid. You can see the vines on the bag strap, the flowers on the bag and buckle, and the leaf-shape on the hairtie.

There's also a lot of green on them, wink wink ;3

To hide their identity, they cover a majority of their face with the cloak hood!

It was hard to balance the colors, but I'm happy with the results! This one is simple compared to the others, but its still cool nonetheless!

Purple was meant to have ripped jeans but my drawing ability to low, so... sorry, Purple.

AAAAND THAT'S ALL! Sorry if this seemed boring or disappointing, or whatnot. I tried my best!

[chaos-of-the-abyss]

This is what I mean when I say this fandom has an incredible Noldor bias and insists on twisting everything so the Feanorians come out looking as charitable as possible, because the accusations that Thingol/Dior/Elwing knew they'd be condemning the Feanorians to the Void to keep the Silmaril and it was therefore justified that the Feanorians attacked Doriath and Sirion rely on some truly nonsense assumptions. How would those three know about the oath? Even if they did hear that it was a thing, how would they have the information that the Feanorians believe they'll be sent to super hell if they don't get the Silmarils back? AND even if they somehow did have this info, the oath literally says the Feanorians will come for whoever comes in contact with the Silmaril, regardless of what they do with it afterwards. On top of all that, I've seen people claim that the Feanorians "begged" Thingol/Dior/Elwing to give them the Silmaril, which, lmfao. These people read Tumblr metas and decided that counted as reading the Silm.

i don't have much to add here anon, just a resounding "yeah." i mean, maybe thingol has heard about the oath through some hearsay from beren, who received vague tidbits from finrod, but regardless, that eternal damnation business is definitely not something he'd be aware of. doubtful that finrod, or anyone outside of the feanorians themselves and their followers, know about that. and it's even more nonsense to say that dior or elwing would have any way of hearing the details of the oath. and!!! like you said! i don't usually find myself including this in my arguments because, as i've said, thingol and dior and elwing wouldn't know what exactly the oath stipulates anyway -- but it quite literally says "neither law, nor love, nor league of swords, dread nor danger, not doom itself, shall defend him from feanor, and feanor's kin, whoso hideth or hoardeth, or in hand taketh, finding keepeth or afar casteth a silmaril." it doesn't matter what this person does afterward -- whether they keep or cast away a silmaril once they have it, the feanorians are going to go after them.

and as for that third point specifically -- that's the most egregious, imo. it's always hilarious to see people act like the feanorians were any iota of polite or diplomatic, let alone humbled themselves and begged, when dealing with thingol, or dior, or elwing. seriously, the way the word "unreasonable" is hurled at those three specifically is something else considering for whose defense the accusation is made in the first place. on the feanorians' part -- zero attempts at reparations made for the murder, kidnapping, and attempted rape. zero indications that they give a fraction of a fuck about any of the teleri. and from the perspective of the iathrim/inhabitants of sirion, zero indications that they are even decent enough people who would honor their own terms and leave doriath/sirion alone if the silmaril is surrendered. as per the text, straight up negative indications that they ever, lmfao, acted with any type of respect towards thingol or dior or elwing, all people whose family they have sorely wronged. towards thingol we get that they "reminded him of haughty words of their claim," and that their words were "proud and threatening." to dior we don't get specifics, but the text does say explicitly that they "sent to him to claim their own," which certainly doesn't make it sound like they were being tactful about it. to elwing and sirion they send messages "of friendship and yet of stern demand." begging? begging where? diplomacy where? attempts to acknowledge their wrongs and make even the barest offer of amends where? yet thingol and dior and elwing, the ones whose families were their victims -- the ones whose kin were murdered, kidnapped, and/or almost raped by them -- are the unreasonable and unfair ones. they are the ones who should have acted differently, and upon whom every bit of blame and culpability lies. the poor sad feanorians are tormented and tragic as they're forced to *checks notes* make good on their own oath to murder innocents which they chose to swear long before anyone other than morgoth was in possession of the silmarils. they tried sooo hard (except no they did not) but those big mean bigoted bullies thingol, dior, and elwing were just too mean and bigoted to listen to them and they had no other choice. they were forced to commit mass murder. boohoo.

so yeah, anon. "relies on some truly nonsense assumptions" is an accurate way to put it. nah, i'd say it's even a nice way to put it, because fucking stupid is what it is

[eunhos]

.

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

🕯️🕯️ sending prayers to all and any deities that we get to witness the radiant joy of miles and alex performing together tonight 🕯️🕯️

[zemnarihah]

erik is my boyfriend now it would seem

[medicinemane]

I'm very tired, I have to do everything around the house myself (as in, I keep having to turn the water off and on to the kitchen sink until I teach myself to install a new faucet, and negative cleaning gets done if I don't do it), and the money is in the hands of the third worst person in the whole family when it comes to money (the worst being my grandpa who is dead, and my grandma who blows all her money on overpriced jackets and other junk)

I'm very tired, I have to teach myself how to do everything, and I have almost literally no support in any way shape or form ever

I can't remember the last time anyone said they were proud of me... I don't actually know if anyone's ever used that word with me before. When I do something like get the trailer cleaned out or buy a house, frankly no one gives a fuck, except my grandma who gets mad

I haven't actually had a chance to see anyone that counts as a friend in like 15 years, and I mean even in high school everyone liked me but no one could be bothered to actually ever even talk outside school... so even back then it's not like I had anyone I was close with

I'm providing this version where I totally remove how I feel or how I view myself from the description and instead try to provide something close to an objective description of things

So if you wonder why I say what I say about myself, honestly I think it's pretty much all summed up here

[bumblebeem]

Transformers One (mostly Bumblebee) things I can't stop thinking about.

During the film's opening when Orion Pax falls into a room and onto a table full of energon, he bundles a load of it into his arms and is eating as much as he can until he drops it all and has to keep fleeing.

He's starving. The miners are being underfed as well as overworked.

Additionally, we see Bumblebee has three rations on his person when he offers one up to wake Alpha Trion. This might suggest he's keeping these rations for when he'll need them rather than being able to comfortably feed himself. For the miners it's a scarce resource they have to be careful with, and yet the transformers on the higher levels are enjoying it in abundance.

Bumblebee urging D-16 to "stay down" during Sentinel's attack.

This is an interesting line - if it was a nothing line meant to reflect compassion/empathy, he could have urged Sentinel to stop, or implored the 'bots next to him to take notice and do something. There were other ways to demonstrate "Bumblebee is kind and doesn't want his friend to get hurt."

But he doesn't look to authority or anyone else around him for help on D-16's behalf.

He instead instructs D-16 on how to behave to get the abuse to stop.

Which suggests to me this is learned behaviour, and he's giving advice based on previous experience. He's learned that taking the punishment and letting it happen gets the perpetrator to eventually stop, but resisting and fighting against them keeps it going.

That he was reassigned continually right down into sub-level 50 would tell me he's had more than his fair share of annoying a bigger 'bot enough to get himself knocked around once or twice. And very likely, nobody witnessing the abuse helped him, and/or the authority in the room was the one perpetrating the abuse anyway, so of course they weren't going to step in and help.

The only way out for him has always been to just take it :( So he assumes this will be the quickest/least painful way out for D-16, too.

Bumblebee is as much of a nerd as Orion is.

He knows about the High Guard (and is very excited to recite what he knows about them), he recognises the Primes as soon as they come across them in the cave, he watches the broadcast Orion locates inside Steve's head with interest... It's very subtly done, but I think this is the main shared trait between Orion and Bee. I wish we had seen more of Bumblebee trying to talk to Orion about this shared interest, but I get the main relationship they wanted to portray was that between Orion and D-16 (and really enjoyed that regardless!)

Bumblebee knows how to leave sub-level 50, yet he still goes back to his post, and doesn't appear to be using this escape-time to socialise with anyone else on the other floors he can access since he is so very clearly starved of social contact.

I'm not crying, okay, I'm just imagining this poor little guy sitting out of view watching the other cogless 'bots come and go, knowing he could get into more trouble and be even more isolated if he announces his presence and gets himself caught.

Also his "limited access" to the waste management area, and that thing he says about the main one in charge there preferring that he stays on task and really not liking any distractions... Ugh.

Bumblebee is purposely isolated in that room and there's apparently enough of a deterrent to keep him in it that he is forced to make imaginary friends out of trash to talk to instead.

I'm gonna go insane with grief and rage.

[sillygoosealert]

CAN YOU DO A REVENGE VERSION OF SUKUNA BETRAYING READER??!! LIKE WHAT IF READER RUNS AWAY BC THEY ACCIDENTALLY WITNESS HIM BEDDING ANOTHER CONCUBINE WHAT WOULD SUKUNA DO? SEND AN ARMY, BURN THE WORLD DOWN?!! 😭😭😭 AND CAN U TRY TO WEITE SOME COMFORT OR FLUFF AT THE END TYSMN

The Morning After (Before)

Days After Initiating Sexual-intercourse (whY)

angst, comfort in being alone, upset (angry) Sukuna, you leave, BEFORE you leave it's a toxic relationship, AFAB reader, woopsie Daisy- i killed off the reader (i got carried away ::( )

To explain your feelings to anyone but yourself brings tears to your already puffy eyes. Since that night, there are so many things you've noticed that you could talk about endlessly.

For starters, his boldness has increased plenty- as he is now more than comfortable with having multiple concubines clinging onto him while he slouches in his throne. When asked to describe him just a month or two ago, you would've gone on and on about how he was a gentle giant with you- a lie, but you would've sugar-coated anything when it came to him.

Right now, all you could even think about when it came to him was how good it would feel for all those women to look at him with disgust at his actions instead of devotion and whatever made-up fantasy they had made up in their heads. That's how you look at him anyway.

You despise keeping up with your cleaning and even dread entering his chamber with him. Furthermore, you do not act like you are interested in him. Eyes once filled with adornment and even some curiosity are now loaded with resentment and a trace of disinterest. He sees it, everyone else sees it, and you feel it. But it doesn't make you feel better knowing he knows- it just makes the pit of dread in your stomach grow.

You know you want him to care, but you can't help but feel he puts up a show of all the women at his disposal when you're in the vicinity- stretching his upper arms out and putting each one around a mistress while one or two sit on his spread-out lap. All you can think when you look at him is how much of an arrogant whore he truly is.

When he calls someone to bring you to his chambers, he always makes sure to feel up whoever is bringing you before shooing them out. His shoulders broaden as he motions you to come up on the bed. He looks bigger than he did a moment ago, and you can't help but feel he's doing it on purpose.

It's been weeks since you watched him choose 5 minutes of feeling good over you sleeping well at night. Was it worth it? You don't know. But the way he tries to passionately kiss you while his lower half eats you out makes you think he's trying to act like it didn't mean anything.

Regardless, you can't help but notice that the same woman is always seated on his lap whenever you catch a glance of him basking in all the attention he can.

The light slap to your thigh makes you look at him directly in the eyes for a second, before looking off to the side. That makes him huff, sitting upwards. Silence speaks volumes for both of you, as you are refusing to talk about your feelings because you think you know how it'll go; and he doesn't want to admit he's hurt by your rejection. So you both don't say anything.

This happens whenever he tries to initiate something intimate. You shut down. It often ends with stillness enfolding the room and an awkwardness surrounding you.

After a few minutes of waiting you leave without a word, and he lets you. While you go on to cry into your pillow and go on another night without comfort, while he gets a few concubines to praise him and fill the growing void with arrogance.

The more you clean and the less you eat and sleep, the feeling of wanting to die increases. Passing out when you get just a chance to lie down is now a common occurrence for you, as well as taking your time standing up.

Maybe you're depressed because you thought he would indulge in your selfishness and let you be the only woman to touch him so intimately. It's also possible that all the chemicals and labor are finally taking their toll on you and your body, meaning your time is shortening just as much as the other maids.

But the day doesn't start with you preparing to dust and sweep; it starts in Ryomen's Room.

You aren't upset anymore. You know that it contributes nothing and won't change anything. Instead of crying into your pillow or blaming yourself for his actions, you just go on. The world kept spinning after that night. Your heart kept beating- for now. The thought of him having sex like it wasn't once you under him isn't frustrating anymore. Not knowing what you want is, but you can handle that. You won't be his woman- you won't even be his man; you won't be anything to him if you can have a say in it.

He sits you in a chair facing his bed, clearing his throat as if he's going to speak- but he doesn't. Raising your eyebrow, you once again are met with speechlessness.

"What?" On cue, he acts offended, as if he isn't relieved you chose to speak up.

"Don't speak to me like that, Concubine."

"I'm more of a maid now than anything, my lord." He hums when you say that.

"You could be more than that- you could be much more. If you weren't so thoughtless." Thoughtless isn't a word you would use. Maybe more impassive- or a less self-absorbed characterization.

"What makes you say that?" An obnoxious sigh comes out of him.

"Jealousy fills you to the point you can't enjoy being one of my favorite concubines," He pauses

"It must be…oppugning to see me with so many women who aren't you," His posture straightens.

"But understand, the only difference between you and them is how you act."

"What's wrong with you? You don't understand why I feel this way at all, do you?" A sneer is plastered across his face now.

"Redirect your hostility towards yourself. Your jealousy is your concern, Not mine."

"I'm not talking to you. Lecture your other mistresses-" A hand pivots your head to face him.

"Keep speaking to me like you are not leagues below me. I won't hesitate to discard you."

"I'm sure you won't." He motions for you to go away as another concubine waits at the door. They give you a curious look before heading in. It's just her, no one else. That used to be you.

Later that night, after the last meal of the day, you're mopping the dining hall floors. You're pouring more cleaner into the water. You are alone.

That realization floods awful thoughts into your mind as the morning replays in your mind. And without thinking, you unscrew the cap again and bring it to your lips.

While taking a large sip from it, liquid spilling from your mouth and onto the floor, the taste of soap and something else fills your senses.

You start to gag and dry heave as it goes down your throat. Swallowing your vomit, you run off to your room after putting your things away.

There isn't anything after you close your eyes, not anymore for you, at least.

You fall asleep thinking about the night in question. It loads you with a peaceful feeling.

There's nothing you can do now. No more choosing to stay silent when all you want to do is crawl into your side of his bed and cry. You don't even have to choose to let go of your feelings of envy and insecurity.

You wonder what he'll do with your body the morning after somebody finds your decomposing body.

Tag list: @kbirdieee2540 @apollogeticx @night-brain

[helen-with-an-a]

Halloween - Beautiful Girl series (18+)

Hiiiii - how is this the 2nd full length fic for Beautiful Girl? Anyways in honour of Halloween, here’s a (not-so-)little smutty fic for yall. Shout out to the anon who gave me the inspiration - I loved writing this. If anyone has any more ideas, please let me know.

Alexia Putellas x reader

Description: It's Halloween and Alexia forces herself to watch a scary movie with R, regardless of what R says.

Word Count: 9k

TW: Smut, 18+, cock warming, a nightmare

Beautiful Girl masterlist

Maybe watching a scary movie wasn’t the best idea after all. Or maybe, just maybe, it was exactly what you needed. You weren’t so sure anymore. On one hand, you couldn’t deny that it pained you a little to see Alexia so scared, her usual confidence crumbling with every jump scare and every gruesome scene. But on the other hand, the way she reacted to the horror unfolding on the screen had you completely captivated. As the movie progressed, she had inched closer and closer to you – an impressive feat considering she started the movie with her head on your chest, your wrapped around each other. Her arms tightened around your waist each time something startled her – her grip being almost painful. The way she clung to you, seeking comfort and protection, stirred something deep within you.

Her scent was intoxicating; soft, warm coconut that filled your senses and made it hard to focus on anything else. You found yourself torn between wanting to reassure her and the thrill of having her so close. Every time the tension in the movie built, you could feel her body tense up against yours, her breath hitching in anticipation. And when the inevitable jump scare happened, she would let out a quiet whimper, the sound soft and vulnerable, before burying her face into your neck, seeking refuge from the terror on the screen. Her eyes would screw tightly shut, and you could feel her eyelashes fluttering against your skin, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine.

It was impossible to think about anything else. All you could focus on was the warmth of her body pressed against yours, the way her soft hair tickled your cheek, and the rhythm of her breaths as she tried to steady herself. You wanted to be her protector, to make her feel safe, but at the same time, you couldn’t help but enjoy the way she needed you in that moment. Maybe watching a scary movie wasn’t the best idea, but with Alexia so close, it was hard to think of a better one.

“Are you sure, beautiful? We don’t have to watch horror just because it’s Halloween,” you said, your voice laced with concern as you studied her expression. “There are plenty of spooky movies, or even just kid ones that we could put on instead,” you suggested, offering a safer alternative as you looked into her eyes. Despite the dim lighting in the room, you could see the determination in her gaze as she pressed the remote into your hand, a small smile playing on her lips.

“I am sure, mi amor,” she replied, her voice dripping with confidence, but you couldn’t help noticing the slight quiver in her tone that betrayed her nerves. You hesitated, unsure whether to trust her bravado. You knew Alexia well enough to know that horror movies were far from her favourite. In fact, she usually avoided them like the plague, preferring the comfort of romantic comedies or feel-good dramas. Horror had never been her thing, and you respected that. You never wanted to put her in a situation that would make her uncomfortable, especially when it came to something as trivial as a movie.

But there she was, insisting on watching one tonight. Halloween had its traditions, and perhaps she felt a certain pressure to partake in the spooky festivities. You, on the other hand, didn’t mind horror. It wasn’t your go-to genre by any means, but you could enjoy a good scare when the mood struck. Still, the thought of subjecting Alexia to something that might genuinely frighten her made you pause.

“Ale,” you began softly, trying to gauge her true feelings. “I know you don’t usually like horror movies. We really don’t have to do this if you’re not comfortable. Halloween or not, I’m happy to watch whatever you want.”

She shook her head, her smile widening as she leaned in closer to you. “No, I want to try it,” she said, her voice steadying as if convincing herself as much as she was you. Her eyes sparkled with a blend of excitement and uncertainty, a rare combination that made your heart flutter. “Besides,” she added, her lips curving into a teasing smile, “you’ll protect me, right?”

The way she looked at you in that moment, a mixture of vulnerability and trust, made your heart soften instantly. How could you ever say no to her? “Of course I will, my beautiful girl,” you murmured, your voice filled with affection. The promise felt as natural as breathing, a vow to keep her safe, even from the imaginary horrors that would soon flicker across the screen. You’d face a hundred nightmares if it meant she felt secure in your arms.

With a playful glint in her eye, she gently pushed your shoulders back, guiding you to recline against the cushions. The next thing you knew, she was climbing on top of you, settling herself comfortably against your chest. Her head found its usual resting spot over your heart, the rhythmic beat beneath her ear soothing her racing one.

You wrapped your arms around her, holding her close, the warmth of her body pressed against yours grounding you in the moment. She let out a contented sigh, her fingers tracing idle patterns on your chest as she nestled in deeper, as if the very act of being so close to you was enough to chase away any lingering fears. You could feel her breath steadying, matching the calm rhythm of yours, and you knew that no matter what happened in the movie, she’d be safe and sound right here with you.

“See?” she whispered, her voice muffled slightly against your chest, “Already feeling braver.” Her words were laced with a gentle teasing, but there was also a sincerity behind them that touched you deeply. You pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, your lips brushing against her hair, breathing in that familiar coconut scent that always made you feel at home.

“Good,” you whispered back, your voice barely above a murmur, “because I’ve got you, always.” She responded with a soft hum, a sound that was full of contentment and trust, vibrating gently against your chest. It was a sound that told you everything you needed to know, that in this moment, she felt safe with you, that she believed in your promise.

You let the silence linger for a moment, enjoying the closeness, the way her body moulded perfectly against yours. But as your hand hovered over the remote, a flicker of concern resurfaced in your mind. You couldn’t shake the urge to double-check, to make absolutely certain she was okay with what was coming next.

“You’re sure?” you asked gently, your thumb poised over the play button, ready but hesitant. You wanted her to have an out, a chance to change her mind before the movie started. You were more than willing to switch to something else, something that wouldn’t leave her on edge or make her uncomfortable.

“Sí, mi amor,” she replied, her voice steady and full of resolve, yet still carrying that softness that you loved so much. “I am sure.” Her words were firm, but there was also a warmth in them, a reassurance that she was ready.

You were barely 10 minutes into the movie when you felt her shift on top of you, her body tensing as the ominous music swelled on the screen. The shadows and flickering lights of the film created a sense of unease that even you, with your higher tolerance for horror, could feel creeping into the room. But it was Alexia’s reaction that caught your attention more than anything else. Without a word, she moved closer, almost instinctively, pressing her face into the curve of your neck, seeking comfort in your warmth.

Her breath was shaky, the soft exhale brushing against your skin as she tried to steady herself, but you could tell the movie was starting to get to her. The way her fingers gripped your arm just a little tighter, the way her body seemed to curl into yours for protection – it all signalled that the horror on screen was pushing her limits. Your heart ached at the thought of her enduring something that made her this uncomfortable, even if she was doing it out of sheer determination.

“Ale, baby,” you began softly, your voice gentle as you tilted your head slightly to speak into her hair. “We don’t have to watch this.” You were ready to reach for the remote, ready to switch to something light and fun, something that would bring back the ease and laughter you loved sharing with her. But before you could move, she tightened her hold on you, her head still nestled firmly against your neck.

“No, no, I am fine, mi amor,” she insisted, her voice a bit muffled but still carrying that stubborn edge you had come to know so well. There was a hint of resolve in her words, a determination to prove to herself – and maybe to you – that she could handle this. But the tremor in her voice didn’t escape your notice, and you couldn’t help but worry that she was pushing herself too far.

“Ale –” you murmured again, this time with a little more concern, hoping to persuade her to take a step back, to remember that there was no need to be a hero tonight. You wanted her to enjoy this, not endure it, and the last thing you wanted was for her to suffer through something she didn’t have to.

But before you could say more, she cut you off, her tone light but firm. “Shush, I am watching the film,” she said, her words almost playful, though you could hear the underlying tension. Her stubbornness was both endearing and exasperating, and you couldn’t help but let out a small sigh, half in amusement, half in resignation.

You knew when Alexia set her mind to something, it was nearly impossible to sway her. It was one of the things you loved about her – her fierce determination and strong will – but right now, all you wanted was to pull her out of this self-imposed challenge and back into the safety of something she enjoyed. But as you felt her burrow deeper into your embrace, you realised that maybe, just maybe, this was her way of facing her fears, and she wanted to do it while feeling the reassurance of your presence.

So, you sighed softly, letting your concern ebb away just a little, though you remained vigilant, ready to call it quits the moment she gave you any real sign that it was too much. You tightened your arms around her, pulling her just a little closer, as if to shield her from whatever horror the screen might throw at her next. If she wanted to face this challenge, you’d be right there with her, her protector in every sense of the word.

You were about 20 minutes from the end of the film, and the tension in the room was nearly unbearable. Each passing minute seemed to heighten the anxiety, not just on the screen but in the very air around you. You could feel it in the way Alexia clung to you, her body pressed so tightly against yours that it was as if she was trying to merge into you, seeking refuge from the horrors unfolding before her eyes. The soft tremors in her body had grown more pronounced, her every breath a shaky struggle to maintain control.

It wasn’t just the way she held onto you that gave her away; it was the way her breath hitched, the way her chest stuttered with each sharp inhale. You could sense the tears welling up, threatening to spill over, and it broke your heart to see her like this. She was trying so hard to keep it together, to convince herself – and you – that she was fine, but it was clear that she was on the verge of breaking down.

“Baby, please,” you urged softly, your voice filled with concern as you turned your attention away from the screen and fully focused on her. “Let’s just turn it off. C’mon, you’re terrified.” You reached for the remote, ready to end this ordeal and bring her some relief. You couldn’t stand the thought of her enduring this any longer, especially when there was no need for it.

But before you could press the button, she shook her head, her voice trembling as she tried to brush off your concerns. “N-no, I’m not,” she insisted, though the quiver in her tone betrayed her. “Everything is fine, mi amor. Just watch your film.” There was a desperate edge to her words, as if she was trying to convince herself more than you.

Your heart twisted at her stubbornness, knowing full well that she was anything but fine. Her pride and determination were admirable, but they were also keeping her trapped in a situation that was clearly too much for her to handle. You wanted to respect her wishes, but you couldn’t ignore the signs – the way her body trembled, the way she seemed to shrink into herself with every new jump scare, every disturbing scene.

“Ale,” you began again, your voice firmer this time as you tried to reason with her. “There’s no point in torturing y – ”

“I am fine, mi amor.” She snapped before you could finish, her words sharp and defensive, cutting through the air between you. Her tone was laced with a mix of frustration and desperation, as if she was clinging to the last shreds of her resolve. She pulled away from you just enough to look up, her eyes wide and glassy with unshed tears, her expression one of fierce determination. But beneath that determination, you could see the fear, the anxiety that was eating away at her composure.

Her response left you momentarily stunned, and you could see the conflict in her eyes. She wanted so badly to be strong for you, to prove that she could handle this, but it was clear that she was reaching her breaking point. You knew her well enough to understand that this wasn’t just about the movie anymore – it was about her pride, about not wanting to seem weak or vulnerable in front of you.

But you didn’t care about any of that. All you cared about was her well-being, and you couldn’t stand the thought of her suffering through this just to prove something that didn’t need proving.

You softened your gaze, your expression full of understanding and compassion. Gently, you reached out and cupped her face in your hands, your thumbs brushing away the moisture gathering at the corners of her eyes. “Ale, you don’t have to do this,” you said softly, your voice filled with tenderness. “I don’t care about the movie – I care about you. There’s nothing to prove here, beautiful. I’d much rather stop this and see you smile than watch you force yourself through something that’s hurting you.”

For a moment, she didn’t say anything, just looked at you with those wide, tear-filled eyes. The tension between you seemed to hang in the air, thick and heavy, until finally, her shoulders slumped in defeat. She let out a shaky breath, her stubborn resolve crumbling as she leaned back into you, her head resting against your chest once more.

“I just… I didn’t want to ruin it for you,” she whispered, her voice small and full of the vulnerability she had been trying so hard to hide.

You held her close, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, your heart aching for her. “You could never ruin anything for me, Ale,” you assured her, your voice gentle but firm. “Your comfort and happiness mean more to me than any movie ever could. Let’s turn this off and do something that makes you feel good, okay?”

She nodded against you, her grip on your shirt loosening slightly as she allowed herself to relax, to let go of the pressure she had been putting on herself. With a relieved sigh, you grabbed the remote and finally turned off the movie, the silence that followed almost immediately easing the tension in the room.

“Can… can we have a shower and just go to bed?” Her voice was small, almost fragile, as she lifted her head from your chest, her eyes still glistening with the remnants of tears. The earlier determination had given way to exhaustion, and all she wanted now was the comfort of something familiar, something soothing to wash away the tension that had built up throughout the evening. Her request was simple, but the vulnerability in her tone made it feel like so much more – a plea for comfort, for reassurance, for the safety that only you could provide.

“Of course we can,” you responded immediately, your voice tender as you brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face. You wanted to make sure she felt completely at ease, so you added gently, “Do you want me to shower with you, just be in the room, or do you want to be alone?” You didn’t want to assume anything, knowing that right now, she needed to feel in control, to have things go exactly the way she wanted.

But before you could even finish asking, she was already nodding, her eyes earnest and pleading as she whispered, “Together.” The word came out almost like a sigh of relief, and you could see how much she needed your presence, how much she craved the closeness and the comfort that only your touch could bring.

“Okay, together it is,” you said softly, giving her a reassuring smile. You rose from the couch, helping her to her feet, and you couldn’t help but notice how drained she seemed, the tension of the evening still lingering in the way she moved. As you guided her towards the bathroom, you asked another gentle question, knowing how much she loved your care in these moments. “Hair wash or not?”

She looked up at you, her eyes softening as she considered the offer. The thought of your hands in her hair, massaging away the stress of the night, clearly appealed to her. “Wash, por favor?” she replied, her voice quiet but hopeful. There was something so endearing in the way she asked, as if she knew how much you loved pampering her and was giving you the opportunity to do just that.

“Anything for you,” you murmured, leaning down to press a tender kiss to her forehead. The simple act of caring for her, of helping her wash away the remnants of the night’s fears, filled you with a sense of purpose and love.

Together, you made your way to the bathroom, the anticipation of the warm, soothing shower already beginning to calm the both of you. As the water started to stream from the showerhead, you helped her out of her clothes, your touch gentle and loving, careful to make her feel cherished. She stepped into the shower first, the warm water cascading over her, and you followed close behind, wrapping your arms around her from behind as the steam enveloped you both.

She let out a small, content sigh as the water washed over her, and you could feel some of the tension start to melt away from her body. You reached for the shampoo, lathering it in your hands before gently massaging it into her hair, your fingers working through the strands with care. She leaned back into you, her eyes closed as she allowed herself to fully relax, the sensation of your hands in her hair bringing her the comfort she had been craving.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice so soft it was almost drowned out by the sound of the water. But you heard her, and the gratitude in her tone made your heart swell.

“There’s nothing to thank me for,” you replied, your voice just as soft. “I love taking care of you.”

You continued to wash her hair with slow, gentle movements, making sure to ease out every last bit of tension. It wasn’t just about the physical act of washing away the stress; it was about being there for her, supporting her, and reminding her that she was never alone, no matter what.

Once her hair was thoroughly rinsed, you turned her gently in your arms so she could face you. The steam curled around you both, creating a little cocoon of warmth and intimacy. You reached up to brush a few droplets of water from her cheeks, your touch tender as you looked into her eyes.

“Feel better?” you asked softly, your voice filled with love and concern.

She nodded, a small, tired smile tugging at her lips. “Much better,” she whispered, her eyes shining with appreciation. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’ll never have to find out,” you replied, leaning in to kiss her, a slow, lingering kiss that spoke of all the love and care you felt for her. The warmth of the shower, the closeness of your bodies, and the gentle exchange of affection all combined to create a moment of pure peace, a sanctuary from the fears that had haunted the night.

When the shower was finally over, you helped her dry off and wrapped her in a soft towel, taking extra care to ensure she felt warm and secure. You could see the exhaustion in her eyes, the way her body seemed to lean into yours for support, and you knew it was time to get her to bed.

You led her to the bedroom, helping her into a clean, comfortable pyjama top. She sank into the bed with a sigh of relief, her body finally able to fully relax. You slipped in beside her, pulling the covers over you both as you wrapped her in your arms once more.

As she nestled against your chest, her head resting in her favourite spot, you could feel the last of the tension slip away, replaced by a deep, contented calm. The horrors of the movie, the fear and anxiety – it all faded into the background, leaving only the warmth of your shared closeness.

“Goodnight, my beautiful girl,” you whispered, pressing a final kiss to her forehead as she drifted off to sleep.

“Buenas noches, mi amor,” she murmured back, her voice already drowsy, filled with the comfort and security she felt in your arms. And as you lay there, holding her close, you knew that this – this simple, intimate moment – was all that really mattered.

It was 5 a.m. when you awoke, the quiet stillness of the night broken only by the soft rustling of the sheets. The room was dark, with only the faintest sliver of moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting a pale glow across the bed. At first, you were disoriented, unsure of what had pulled you from sleep. But then you felt it – the way the mattress shifted beside you, the way the blankets tugged slightly as if caught in a struggle.

You turned your head, your heart quickening as you realised it was Alexia. She was lying next to you, but something was wrong. Her body was twitching, her limbs jerking in restless, erratic movements that seemed almost out of her control. It was as if she were trying to escape something, her legs kicking out and her hands grasping at the sheets, searching for something to hold on to.

Your concern deepened as you heard her soft whimpers, barely audible but full of distress. “Por favor, no,” she murmured, her voice trembling with fear. The words were slurred, muffled by sleep, but the desperation in them was unmistakable. “Para, por favor,” she pleaded, her breath hitching as if she were trying to catch it between sobs that hadn’t yet escaped. “No me hagas… No puedo…”

Your heart broke at the sound of her voice, so full of helplessness and fear. It was clear she was caught in the grip of a nightmare, reliving something that was causing her immense pain. You reached out, your hand hovering just above her, unsure whether to wake her or not. You wanted to pull her out of whatever dark place her mind had taken her, to reassure her that she was safe, but you also knew that waking someone from a nightmare could sometimes be disorienting, even frightening.

“Mi amor,” she whimpered again, her voice cracking as if she were on the verge of tears. “Ayudar…” The last word was a desperate plea for help, and you could feel your own heart ache in response. There was no more hesitation – you couldn’t let her suffer through this alone, not when you were right there beside her.

Gently, you placed your hand on her shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze as you called her name. “Ale,” you whispered, your voice calm and soothing, trying to bring her back to the present, back to you. “Beautiful, wake up. It’s just a dream. I’m here, you’re safe.”

At first, she didn’t respond, her body still caught in the throes of the nightmare, her breathing fast and shallow. You squeezed her shoulder a little more firmly, your thumb brushing against her skin in a comforting gesture. “Ale, it’s okay. I’ve got you. Wake up, baby.”

Slowly, her movements began to still, the jerking of her limbs easing as your voice started to reach her. Her eyes fluttered open, but they were wide and unfocused, as if she were still caught between the nightmare and reality. She blinked rapidly, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps as she tried to orient herself.

“Shh, it’s okay,” you murmured, sliding your hand down to gently cup her cheek, guiding her gaze to meet yours. “It was just a bad dream. You’re safe now. I’m right here.”

She looked at you, her eyes slowly beginning to clear as she registered your words, your presence. A shuddering breath escaped her as the realisation hit, and she let out a soft sob, her body collapsing against yours as if all the strength had drained out of her. You wrapped your arms around her immediately, pulling her close, cradling her trembling form against your chest.

“It’s okay, Ale,” you whispered, your voice full of reassurance as you stroked her back, trying to soothe the fear that still lingered in her. “You’re safe. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

She buried her face in your chest, her hands clutching at your shirt as if afraid to let go. You could feel the wetness of her tears soaking through the fabric, and it only made you hold her tighter, as if your embrace could shield her from whatever horrors had haunted her sleep.

“Lo siento,” she choked out, her voice muffled and raw with emotion. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Don’t apologise,” you replied gently, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just glad I was here to wake you up.”

For a while, the two of you simply lay there, her body gradually relaxing in your arms as the terror of the nightmare faded. You continued to whisper soothing words, your hands moving in slow, comforting circles on her back, until her breathing finally steadied, the tension in her muscles releasing as she melted into you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked softly, knowing that sometimes sharing the fear could help it lose its power.

She shook her head slightly, her voice still trembling as she replied, “No… I just want to forget it.”

She looked up at you with those big, hazel eyes, the ones that had a way of speaking directly to your heart, conveying emotions that words could never fully capture. In those eyes, you saw a mixture of vulnerability and longing, a silent plea that reached out to you with an intensity that made your breath catch.  They told you everything you needed to know.

“Please, mi amor,” she whispered, her voice soft and full of a tender desperation that tugged at your heartstrings. Her lips were slightly parted, still a little swollen from the way she had been biting them in her sleep, the remnants of fear lingering in the way they trembled ever so slightly. Her cheeks were flushed, a soft, rosy hue that had nothing to do with the nightmare that had shaken her awake and everything to do with the way she was looking at you now – with a mixture of need and trust, a desire to be comforted and held, to be taken away from the remnants of the dark dream that still clung to her.

“Make me forget it?” she asked, her voice barely more than a breath, yet filled with a yearning. It wasn’t just the nightmare she wanted to forget; it was the vulnerability it had exposed, the fear that had left her feeling raw and exposed.

You could feel your heart swell with a protective tenderness as you gazed down at her, taking in the sight of her beautiful face framed by the tousled strands of hair that had escaped during her restless sleep. Her cheeks, flushed with a soft pink, were warm under your touch as you gently cupped her face in your hands, your thumbs tracing light, soothing circles against her skin. Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment, leaning into your touch, seeking the solace she knew only you could provide.

“How, my beautiful girl? What do you need from me?” you asked, your voice a soft murmur as you gazed down at her. The warmth in your tone was matched by the tenderness in your eyes, a look that was full of love and patience. You wanted to give her everything she needed, to be exactly what she was asking for, but you needed her to tell you, to be open about her desires. It was something you had been working on together, trying to get her to express herself more freely, to not be afraid of telling you what she truly wanted.

She hesitated for a moment, her eyes flicking away from yours as if searching for the right words. You could see the conflict in her expression, the way she bit her lip in thought, her cheeks flushing slightly with a mix of shyness and anticipation. The sight was endearing, and it only made you more determined to coax her into speaking her mind, to assure her that there was nothing she couldn’t ask of you.

“You,” she finally whispered, her voice quiet but filled with a longing that resonated deep within you. “I just need you.”

Your heart swelled at her words, the simplicity of them carrying so much weight, so much emotion. It wasn’t just about physical desire; it was about the connection between you, the way she trusted you, needed you in a way that went beyond mere words. But even though you were more than willing to give her everything she wanted, you knew this was an important moment for her to take that extra step, to be specific about what she truly craved.

“And you have me,” you vowed, your voice steady and full of reassurance as you reached out to take her hand. You held it tightly, giving her a gentle squeeze, a silent promise that you were there, that you would always be there for her. But you knew she needed to go further, to put into words the desires that she had kept hidden, the ones that she was still learning to voice. “But I need specifics, beautiful. I need you to tell me exactly what you want.”

She hesitated again, her fingers tightening around yours as she gathered the courage to speak. You could see the internal battle she was waging, the way her mind was working to overcome the last remnants of hesitation, the lingering fear of being too forward, too demanding. But you waited patiently, giving her the space she needed, knowing that this moment was crucial for her.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity but was only a few seconds, she looked up at you, her hazel eyes filled with a mixture of vulnerability and determination. There was a flicker of something deeper in her gaze, something raw and unfiltered, and it made your heart race in anticipation of what she was about to say.

“Your cock,” she said eventually, her voice barely above a whisper, but the words carried a weight that made them impossible to ignore. “I want to sit on your cock.”

The directness of her words sent a jolt of desire through you, but more than that, you felt a surge of pride and affection. She had said it – she had opened up to you, voiced her desire without holding back, and that was a victory in itself. You could see the blush spreading across her cheeks, her eyes searching yours for a reaction, for reassurance that she hadn’t overstepped, that she hadn’t done something wrong.

You gave her hand another squeeze, your thumb brushing gently over her knuckles as you leaned in closer, your voice low and full of promise. “And you will,” you murmured, your gaze locking with hers, letting her see the desire, the love, the unwavering commitment in your eyes. “I’m going to give you exactly what you want, my beautiful girl. I’m going to take care of you.”

Her breath hitched slightly, her lips parting in anticipation as she realised you meant every word. You could feel the tension between you, the electricity that sparked in the air as you brought your free hand to her cheek, cupping it gently as you leaned in to kiss her. The kiss was soft at first, a gentle brushing of lips that quickly deepened as she responded, her body pressing closer to yours as if seeking the warmth and comfort only you could provide.

You could feel the heat building between you, the way her body instinctively moved closer, seeking out your touch, craving the connection you shared. But you didn’t rush, didn’t push her – this was about her, about giving her the time and space to fully embrace her desires, to feel comfortable in expressing them.

When you finally pulled back, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes half-lidded with desire as she looked up at you, her lips slightly swollen from the kiss. You could see the anticipation in her gaze, the way she was waiting for you to make the next move, to take the lead in this dance of intimacy.

“Go get the strap for me,” you said, your voice steady and filled with a mix of authority and encouragement. And choose either the purple one or the dark red one – they should be in the top drawer. When you’ve picked it, take off your knickers and leave them in the basket, then come back.” Your instructions were clear, but they were also laced with an invitation, a chance for her to make a choice that would tailor the experience to her preference.

She nodded, her eyes meeting yours with a mixture of eagerness and curiosity. There was a certain glint in her gaze, a spark of excitement that indicated she was ready to embrace what was coming next. You watched as she moved with a purposeful grace, her steps filled with a quiet determination.

As she approached the drawer, her fingers traced along the smooth surface before she pulled it open. The top drawer was organised with precision, and there they were – the two dildos you had mentioned, each one carefully arranged. The purple one was vibrant and rich, its hue deep and alluring, while the dark red was more subdued but equally enticing, its colour reminiscent of a deep, passionate embrace.

She took a moment to consider her options, her fingers hovering over the straps as she made her decision. It was a small but significant choice, one that would add a personal touch to the experience you were about to share. The act of choosing held its own weight, a way for her to assert her preferences, to have a say in how the moment would unfold. The purple one was bigger – she would definitely feel the painful sting more in the morning. But the red one was curved slightly – the angle pressing against all the right spots.

After a few moments, she selected the strap that resonated most with her in that moment. Purple – she would need the reminder in the morning. Her choice was deliberate, and as she held it in her hands, you could see the satisfaction in her expression, a sense of anticipation for what was to come. She hurried to slip off her underwear, throwing them in the wash before she turned back to you, the strap in hand, her gaze confident and ready.

With a gentle, encouraging smile, you extended your hand toward her, taking the strap from her with a sense of reverence. “Mi hermosa niña perfecta, listening so well,” you murmured, your voice soft but filled with admiration. You took the strap carefully, admiring the way it felt in your hands, the texture and weight of it, and how it would fit into her just so.

It took a few moments, but eventually, you were settled back against the pillows, the room bathed in a soft, ambient light that cast gentle shadows across the bed. The black harness was securely wrapped around your waist, its sturdy material hugging your body comfortably, creating a sense of anticipation and readiness. The straps of the harness had been adjusted with care, ensuring a snug yet comfortable fit that allowed you to move freely, without any distraction from the sensation of the harness itself.

The purple dildo, now firmly attached to the harness, hung to one side, its vibrant colour contrasting with the dark fabric of the harness. It swayed slightly with your movements, the smooth, polished surface catching the dim light in a way that made it look almost ethereal.

“Come here,” you whispered, your voice a low, inviting rumble that seemed to resonate through the soft, dimly lit room. The ambiance was intimate and charged, the light casting gentle, warm hues that danced across the bed and accentuated the tenderness of the moment.

As you spoke, she moved to straddle you with a mixture of eagerness and nervous anticipation. Her hands reached out instinctively, her fingers brushing against the cool surface of the plastic. Her movements were fluid, a testament to how much she wanted … needed … this

You gently interjected; your tone soft but firm. “Not yet.” The words were a tender reminder, a way to guide her without diminishing the intensity of the moment. “Don’t think I didn’t notice it’s the bigger one, beautiful.” You added, a teasing note in your voice that hinted at both admiration and playfulness. Your eyes locked with hers, your gaze steady and full of affection.

The playful tease was meant to break any lingering tension, to remind her that this was a shared experience, one filled with mutual desire and understanding. Her reaction was immediate, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of pink as a shy smile played at the corners of her lips. The warmth of her blush was a contrast to the coolness of the plastic, adding an extra layer of intimacy to the moment.

“Just sit on my lap, yeh?” you continued, your voice gentle and reassuring. “I want to kiss you for a bit.” Your words were an invitation, a way to create a space where you could both indulge in the closeness and affection that had brought you together.

As you spoke, you could see the effect your words had on her. The initial shyness in her expression gave way to a more open, trusting look, her eyes reflecting both her anticipation and her desire to be close to you. The promise of a kiss, combined with the gentle teasing, had a way of making her blush even more furiously, her entire demeanour radiating both excitement and tenderness.

You readjusted yourself comfortably against the pillows, your posture open and inviting, as you guided her to sit on your lap. The arrangement was intimate, placing her in a position where she could feel your heartbeat, where every breath she took would be felt against your chest. As she complied, her body pressed close to yours, you took a moment to savour the closeness, to feel the warmth and softness of her against you.

With a tender touch, you cupped her face in your hands, your thumbs brushing gently against her cheeks. The contact was intimate and reassuring, a way to show her how much you cherished these moments of connection. “My beautiful girl,” you sighed softly, smiling at the way her chest puffed up just a little.

You leaned in slowly, each movement deliberate and filled with intention. Your lips found hers in a kiss that was both soft and lingering, a gentle exploration that spoke of the deep affection and desire that had been simmering between you. The kiss began with a tender touch, a feather-light brush that seemed to hover for a moment before deepening.

As your lips connected, you could feel the warmth of her breath mingling with yours, the sweet, intimate sensation of her closeness. The kiss was more than just a physical act; it was a silent conversation, a way to express the emotions that words could barely capture. It was slow and deliberate, a careful dance of lips and breath that conveyed the depth of your feelings.

She responded eagerly, her lips moving against yours with a sense of urgency that matched the intensity of the moment. Her passion was palpable, and it only served to heighten the connection you shared. Her tongue slipped into your mouth with a bold, enthusiastic push, its warmth and softness adding a new layer to the kiss. The sensation was electric, a jolt of pure, unfiltered desire that sent a thrill through both of you.

The kiss deepened as she explored your mouth with a growing intensity, her tongue brushing against yours in a way that was both playful and possessive. The connection between you was tangible, each touch and movement an expression of the desire that had been building. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and you found yourself responding with equal fervour, your hands sliding up to cradle her face as you matched her kiss for kiss.

The rhythm of the kiss became a symphony of sensation, a blend of soft caresses and passionate embraces. The initial tenderness gave way to a more urgent, fervent exploration, as if both of you were trying to savour every moment, to make the kiss last as long as possible. Your breaths came in shared gasps, the air between you thick with the heat of your desire.

In the midst of the kiss, you could feel the rhythm of her heart against your chest, the way her body pressed closer, seeking out the intimacy and connection that only this shared moment could provide. The kiss was a bridge between your souls, a way to communicate the depth of your feelings without the need for words.

As you continued to kiss, the world outside seemed to dissolve into insignificance, leaving only the two of you enveloped in a cocoon of warmth and passion. The external noise and distractions faded into a distant hum, barely registering against the backdrop of your shared intimacy. It was as if time had slowed down, allowing you both to savour each moment of the kiss without interruption or concern.

Kissing Alexia was, without a doubt, one of your favourite activities. Each kiss was a revelation, a tender exploration of the deep connection that existed between you. The way she tasted was intoxicating, a delicate blend of sweetness and warmth that lingered on your lips long after the kiss had ended. Her unique flavour was a subtle reminder of her essence, a taste of the intimacy you shared.

The way she sighed happily against you was equally enchanting. Her contented murmurs were a testament to the pleasure she was experiencing, the soft sounds of her satisfaction resonating through your shared embrace. Each sigh was like a gentle caress, a sign that she was fully immersed in the moment, enjoying every second of the closeness and affection.

The warmth of her body was another cherished aspect of your kisses. As she pressed against you, you could feel the heat radiating from her, a comforting sensation that made you feel incredibly connected and alive. Her body seemed to mould perfectly against yours, creating a harmonious blend of warmth and tenderness that was both soothing and exhilarating.

In those moments, everything else ceased to matter. The kiss was a world unto itself, a space where you could both be completely present, free from the worries and pressures of everyday life. The connection between you was palpable, a silent communication of love and desire that transcended words.

When you finally pulled back, it was with a reluctant but satisfied sigh, the kiss having fulfilled its promise of deep connection and mutual desire. You looked into her eyes, which were still filled with the same fervent emotion, the same longing that had driven the kiss. Your lips were tingling from the intensity, and the taste of her lingered, a sweet reminder of the passion you had just shared.

“Por favor, mi amor,” Alexia begged, her voice trembling with a mixture of desire and desperation. “Can I sit on your cock now?” The words came out as a soft, pleading whine, tinged with a hint of impatience. Her tone was both sweet and needy, a clear indication of how deeply she wanted to move forward.

You chuckled softly, the sound a low, intimate rumble that vibrated with affection and amusement. The tender laughter was a response to the intensity of her request, a way to acknowledge her eagerness while enjoying the moment. Your fingers moved with a practiced grace, sliding gently down her body to trace a delicate path through her folds.

As your fingers made contact, you could immediately feel the wetness that had gathered there. She was soaked, her arousal evident in the slick, heated sensation against your touch. It was a reminder of how responsive she was to your kisses, how a simple moment of intimacy could leave her dripping with desire. With Alexia, this was always the case – more than a minute of kissing and she would be positively drenched, her body reacting eagerly to the feel of your lips on hers.

“You’re soaked, beautiful,” you murmured, your voice low and filled with admiration. “Is this all for me?” you asked, your words imbued with a mixture of awe and affection.

“Sí, sí. Todo para ti, sólo para ti,” she replied breathlessly, her voice a soft, trembling whisper. Her response was fervent, her eyes shimmering with both longing and vulnerability. As she spoke, her blonde hair tumbled forward, cascading around her face like a curtain. The golden strands fell gently in front of you, effectively blocking out the outside world and creating an intimate cocoon where only the two of you existed.

“Well, I am honored, baby,” you said with a sincere smile. Your words were a tender acknowledgment of her eagerness, a way to express just how much her readiness meant to you. Her reaction was immediate; she sighed happily, a soft, content sound that resonated with the warmth of your words.

“Be a good girl for me, Ale,” you continued gently, your tone both commanding and tender. “Sit on my cock. Go carefully.” The instructions were clear but spoken with a careful consideration, a reminder of your attentiveness to her needs and desires. “I know you want to feel the stretch,” you added, a hint of understanding in your voice. “But I don’t want you hurting yourself.” The concern in your words was genuine, reflecting your deep care for her well-being and your desire to ensure that her experience was both pleasurable and safe.

Alexia was always amazed at how well you seemed to know her. The way you could often anticipate her desires before she fully articulated them was a constant source of wonder for her. Your understanding of her needs, coupled with your ability to express those needs with such precision, made her feel deeply connected to you. It was as though you had an intuitive grasp of her wants and boundaries, an ability to make every moment together feel profoundly satisfying.

Reaching down, she carefully lined herself up, slowly inching her way onto the dildo. It burned in the best way – the subtle pain and waves of pleasure easing Alexia’s mind in a way that only this could bring. When she was with you, she was weightless – all of her needs were taken care of, she didn’t need to think or do, she could just be … just be Ale, your beautiful girl.

She felt your thumb descend softly onto her clit; the touch delicate yet deliberate. The sensation of your skin brushing against her sensitive flesh was electric, sending a shiver through her body. You began to rub in slow, purposeful circles, each motion carefully calibrated to enhance her pleasure without overwhelming her. The rhythmic pressure of your thumb against her clit caused her breath to hitch sharply as she bottomed out.

The way you touched her was a tender mixture of affection and desire, a gentle exploration that was as much about connection as it was about physical pleasure. The slow circles you traced were hypnotic, creating a soothing yet stimulating rhythm that made her body respond with increasing eagerness. Her breath came in soft, uneven gasps, each hitch a testament to the growing pleasure coursing through her.

“You’re so pretty, Ale,” you murmured softly, your voice filled with admiration and warmth. The compliment was a loving acknowledgment of her beauty and the way she responded to your touch. Your words were a balm to her heightened emotions, a way to make her feel cherished and adored in this intimate moment.

“And you listened so well,” you continued, the praise flowing naturally from your lips. Your words were not just about her physical response but also about her attentiveness to your desires and instructions. It was a recognition of how well she had followed your lead, how perfectly she had aligned with the intimate dance you were sharing.

“Such a beautiful girl for me,” you added, the final touch of your praise imbued with deep affection.

Alexia sighed deeply, the sound a mixture of contentment and relief as she leaned forward to rest her face against your neck. The warmth of her breath and the softness of her skin felt incredibly comforting, a tangible reminder of the closeness you shared. Her body relaxed against yours, the fear from her nightmare long gone.

You couldn’t help but smile at the sweet gesture, your heart swelling with affection. Gently, you pressed a tender kiss to the side of her head, your lips brushing softly against her hair.

With one hand, you held her waist steadily, you fingers splayed and grip firmer to keep her grounded. With the other, you let your fingers trail delicately under the edge of her top, the touch light and exploratory. The sensation of your fingertips against her skin was soothing, creating a gentle, comforting rhythm that matched the intimate atmosphere. You traced soft patterns across her back and sides, each movement purposeful and filled with affection. Your touch was a tactile expression of your love, a way to convey the depth of your feelings without words.

Occasionally, your fingers spelled out small, loving messages against her skin. You wrote your name and hers in flowing cursive, a private reminder of the personal connection you shared. The letters were delicate, each one a testament to your appreciation for her and the uniqueness of your relationship.

In addition to names, you inscribed the words "I love you" in various languages you knew, each phrase a reflection of the global nature of your affection. From the simple “I love you” in English to the tender “Te amo” in Spanish, and “Je t’aime” in French, you created a mosaic of expressions that spanned cultures and languages. Each phrase was written with care, the letters forming a silent but powerful testament to the breadth and depth of your emotions.

The tactile sensations, combined with the loving words, created a moment of profound connection. Alexia’s contented sighs and relaxed demeanour were a testament to the comfort and love she felt in your presence. The physical touch, the affectionate words, and the gentle exploration all combined to form a rich tapestry of intimacy that made the moment feel incredibly special and deeply meaningful.

As you continued to trace patterns and write loving messages on her skin, the room seemed to grow even quieter, the outside world fading into the background. It was just the two of you, sharing a moment of pure, unspoken connection that spoke volumes about the depth of your feelings for each other. Each touch and word was a celebration of your bond, a way to make Alexia feel cherished and adored in the most intimate and heartfelt way.

“Close your eyes, my beautiful girl. I’ll be here for you in the morning.” You whispered, letting your words wash over Alexia as she slowly slipped back into sleep’s embrace.

“T’estimo,” she mumbled.

“I love you,” you replied.

[salemlunaa]

YOU’RE WASTING YOUR ENERGY…

you guys need to put your time elsewhere

idrk if this is a weigh-in on the situation/discussion that’s been going on but it’s a message to you guys in general…

you guys need to mind your goddamn business, if yall would put that energy you do into dictating what people can and can’t do in THEIR OWN realities, into actually tapping in, you would be in your new reality with no worries in the world or in a much better place regardless.

before i was someone who actually posted on here, i was just a lurker and would see you guys bully people off this app because they didn’t condemn the choices other people made in their reality, for example: race changing. you guys automatically assume that someone who had better things to do than give a fuck is “siding” with people who race change or age up or down and relentlessly harass them until they deactivate. like wtf guys??

and as for me, i don’t give a fuck

if you wanna race change or change ethnicities, go ahead

if you wanna age someone up or down so you can date them, sure go do that

if you wanna script that your friend’s man is actually yours, even though i will never understand that because there are plenty of fish in the sea, BE MY FUCKING GUEST

because guess what? someone’s reality isn’t for me or you to understand. and you guys can say my morals are fucked for saying that but this isn’t about my morals, this post has nothing to do with my morals or yours because those two things have no importance in SOMEONE ELSE’S reality

and the thing is you are wasting your breath because people will do whatever they want at the end of the day. and you are wasting your time ESPECIALLY if said person wants to permashift or respawn because it means they won’t remember anything, it would be like they looked that way and lived like that their whole life, they won’t even remember this whole ordeal and won’t remember your rehearsed thinkpieces that no one asked to hear (including mine)

you don’t have to agree or follow what they are doing, just mind your business and focus on the prize, being your new and perfect reality, you guys could have ANYTHING and wanna focus on what others are doing?? come on now….

go get your dream life, do whatever you want and don’t let anyone tell you shit because it’s your life and that’s something big

yall are so quick to apply pressure to other people for their life choices but never quick to apply all that you have learnt to get your dream life

anyway…

STAY IN YOUR OWN LANE AND BEHAVE 🙄💋

[cloudcountry]

Hello! If it's not too much trouble, can I ask for some headcanons for Deuce, Jack, Jamil, and Azul overhearing the reader gushing about them to a friend? It's not like they meant to eavesdrop, they just happened to be passing and they heard a snippet of all the nice things the reader said about them

SUMMARY: they eavesdrop on you while you gush about them!

COMMENTS: writing for jamil is so hard...........

Deuce left to go get some snacks for you and Ace, since he was used to carrying all of the bags anyways. He didn’t expect to come back to hearing you gush about him to a disgruntled Ace, going on and on about how amazing you thought he was.

“Prefect pleaseee, spare me. I know you’re down bad.” Ace groans, and Deuce stands outside the door just a little bit longer even though he knows it's bad to eavesdrop.

“What do you mean!? Have you seen him!? I am the perfect, acceptable amount of interested, thank you very much!” you proclaim dramatically, “He’s just so hard working, and so kind, and even though he’s so tough he’s also really gentle...have you seen him make eggs? I wish I was those eggs!”

Deuce’s face feels like it’s burning. He steps into the room, unable to listen to your rambling anymore. You and Ace stop talking and turn to look at him, only for Ace to burst with laughter at his flaming red face.

Jack would love to say that he’s unfazed. He’d also love to grab his tail and stop it from wagging so damn much, but unfortunately that is not how his tail works. It's a bit odd that you decided to tell this to Ruggie of all people, and honestly Jack thinks you should have gone to literally anyone else.

He respects his upperclassmen of course, but he knows Ruggie is going to tease both of you relentlessly. He can already hear it now, the high pitched, iconic Ruggie laugh ringing in his ears 

Regardless...his face is far warmer than it usually is. Maybe he likes being praised...just a little bit...

If Azul is being honest, he was just eavesdropping to gain insight into your struggles. Now he’s stuck sitting a table away from you, hiding his face with a textbook because he definitely looks at least a little bit panicked and he has a reputation to uphold.

You're babbling on and on to your Heartslabyul friends about how lovely you think Azul is, despite their interjections of “Prefect that is literally the guy who screwed us over” and “Prefect...you could do so much better for yourself, you know that?”

He covers his surprised snort with a soft cough when you shoot back with a “Well you two were the ones silly enough to sign his deal. His business is still running for a reason.”

Really, you’re something else.

Jamil isn’t used to praise that it’s for his food and isn’t from Kalim. Unfortunately enough, it’s him who you’re talking to when he walks into Scarabia’s lounge.

He freezes in place when he hears his name, about to open his mouth and chastise you two for talking about someone when they’re not there, but he hears just what you have to say and he’s so glad he didn’t get the chance to say anything.

Staring at you and Kalim’s backs, he has to admit he’s more than a little flustered and more than a little annoyed that he can’t see your face or the smile you’re so obviously wearing when you talk about how beautiful and clever Jamil is.

A foreign emotion rears its head inside him and a ghost of a smirk appears on his face—he’ll just get you to spill your guts later.

-> deuce's darlings . . . @vivigoesinsane @deucespadez @identity-theft-101 @dove-da-birb

-> azul's business partners . . . @cookiesandbiscuits @vivigoesinsane @identity-theft-101 @dove-da-birb

[beanytuesday]

Hey, I love your art -- I was wondering if you ever posted your illustration for Kafka's "A Hunger Artist" on here? It's really evocative and gorgeously framed, and I find myself thinking of it frequently!!

Thank you for the kind words. A Hunger Artist by Franz Kafka is one of my favorite short stories of all time, and it’s a very quick read. You can read it right here:

https://www.kafka-online.info/a-hunger-artist.html

Go ahead, I’ll wait here.

I’d like to take us opportunity to talk a little bit about the story, if I may.

Although there are a couple different interpretations of the story's meaning, it unambiguously read to me as an allegory for the plight of the creative, likely drawing from Kafka’s own experience. The ‘starving artist’ comparison is obvious, but there’s much more to it than that. In a departure from most other depictions in media, the plight of the artist is not depicted as something noble or redemptive, but as a sort of self-destructive madness. The hunger artist dies alone and in obscurity, his impact on the world ultimately being completely marginal and insubstantial. When questioned about why he chose a life like this, he reveals that he doesn’t even enjoy fasting, he simply couldn’t find any food he liked. That is to say, a true creative does not select this kind of self destructive lifestyle because they enjoy it; rather, it is because they cannot possibly bear to do anything else. Kafka himself, It should be mentioned, supposedly despised pretty much every job he ever had.

As some of you may know, I developed severe tendinitis a couple months ago. Mentally, September was probably the worst months of my entire life. I reflected on this story a lot –I had wrought my own self destruction, and for what? A couple of bucks? A few comics that i’ll become embarrassed of in a year’s time anyway? Unsure about my prospects for recovery, I became incredibly depressed.

But having been starved of the ability to write or draw, I had a genuine epiphany. Standing at the corner of Boston liquors in Allston, I resolved that I would muster the strength to endure this, regardless of how long it took, because what awaited me at the end was nothing short of the greatest prize a person could ask for: That very thing derided by Kafka –the life of an artist.

There is no greater pleasure than making art. I mean that genuinely, I mean that literally. No, it isn’t noble, no, it isn’t redemptive, but in a totally hedonistic and self-serving way it is simply the greatest thing that life can offer, ambrosia in the mouth, better than sex, better than drugs, better than anything that money can buy, and I feel pity for anyone unable to experience it. I am not being hyperbolic, I am not being metaphorical. I am stating this in the plainest of terms, having lived a life without it for the last couple of months.

So although my personal relationship to the story has changed in the past couple months, Kafka was right about one thing; nothing else tastes good, at least not by comparison. We must imagine the hunger artist happy.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Lookism guys comforting YOU

G/N hc feat all my blorbos. Jakey, Sammy, Goo, Gun, Vin, Ryuhei

You're stressed and upset. Overwhelmed. Day gone from bad to worse and you're seeking comfort-

Jake comes in with the jokes, makes you laugh even when you want to cry.

Wipes away your tears with careful fingers, yourself not even sure if they're from laughter or distress.

He does pick his moments though, and knows when to put a serious face on.

When you're too upset and it's not the right mood, he'll pull you into his lap, envelop you with his arms.

Tells you how amazing you are, how precious to him, how much better you make his life. Until little by little, you start to feel more like yourself.

Samuel holds you steady against him.

Lets you sniffle into his expensive shirts, breathing shaky breaths against his skin.

Offers you something to blow off steam. One of his vices: drink or nicotine or maybe violent retribution.

Or even something pretty and expensive and sparkling, to take your mind off it.

If you opt for none, he'll sigh and hold you close. His nose nestled in your hair, your head resting on his chest.

He's a busy man with things to do, but you always come first. He'll be there for you for as long as you need.

Goo is outraged at whatever has pissed you off or upset you.

Takes it as a personal slight, whether it is someone making you cry, school stressing you out, job not going well or anything in between.

How dare they do this to you.

Bad mouths whatever has pissed you off so much that even you're feeling a bit bad for them.

Eventually tries to buy your happiness, or tests the water to see if it's something casual arson or grievous bodily harm may solve.

When it's none of the above, he just says your name with a soft sigh. Cups your face, peppering you in kisses until he sees your smile again.

Gun sits and listens to whatever is on your mind.

He's great at it, never showing any impatience. Quietly taking in everything you're saying.

Gives hums of encouragement, nods every now and then to urge you to continue.

Gaze focused and attentive, never glazing over or drifting away.

At the end, when you're finishing sniffling into his shoulder, he asks how he can help.

With your hand in his, thumb running over your knuckles, sweetly offers to kill anyone you like... It's not a joke.

He himself feels a pang of disappointment when you turn him down.

Vin pokes fun at you, initially.

Defaulting to his mean self even where you're concerned and especially when he's feeling uncomfortable.

At your wet eyes and downtrodden expression, he feels bad. Awful actually.

Changes tact and puts his arm around you. Gently directs your head to his shoulder and calls you an idiot for crying.

Rubs your arm soothingly regardless. Pats your head awkwardly but makes up for it with kisses to your forehead.

Asks what or who has done this and silently vows to make them puke blood all night.

Ryuhei immediately reaches for his weapon, asking "who did this to you?!"

He has promised to never make you cry or upset but that doesn't mean someone else can!

When you say no, he offers to take your mind off things in other ways. Specifically in bed-

Again you say no but he drags you to bed anyway.

"No funny business," he promises and you lie down.

Curls up behind you, wrapping you in his protective embrace.

Whispers in his native language to you, soothing and like a lullaby.

[xoxochb]

percy with a psyche daughter plsss

— lust for life

warnings: none? kind of soulmate au I suppose pairing: percy jackson x daughter of psyche a/n: nonnie I wasn’t sure if you wanted a fic or hcs so I just did hcs because I’m working on a psyche! reader x percy fic right now

୨୧ when percy first saw you he was absolutely enamored— a gorgeous daughter of psyche, and dare he say the aphrodite girls had nothing on you

୨୧ you were nervous at first, psyche is the goddess of the soul meaning you feel things deeper than anyone else, meaning it was easy for you to get attached

୨୧ and you loved percy, that was your problem. but so did tons of other people at camp and you weren’t prepared to get your heart broken

୨୧ but little did you know percy adored you just as much, perhaps even more than you love him, and he wasn’t going to let you slip from his fingers

୨୧ you were close friends, yes, but speaking to you know, confessing his undying love for you was nerve wracking as hell

୨୧ you were uneasy as he spoke, twiddling with your fingers and pulling at your clothes until percy took both of your hands gently

୨୧ you explained to him why you were unsure of being in a relationship, but he thoroughly reassured you that he didn’t want any other girls, just you, only you— the girl relentlessly occupying his mind at all times

୨୧ spoiler warnings: you gave into his irresistible charms

୨୧ but once your relationship progressed you found that he would stay loyal to you and his words

୨୧ anyways, relationship hcs

୨୧ psyche kids have this power were they can read/see people’s aura color so you use this to your advantage to percy’s current mood. you told him about this ability and that idiot wouldn’t let it go

୨୧ literally every second— “what’s my color now” — “what color am I?” — “what color makes me look the sexiest?” (it’s blue bee tee dubs)

୨୧ + psyche kids are definitely good at consoling/comforting people (psychiatrists wink wink) so whenever percy is down he’ll go to you for comfort (but he would’ve regardless of your godly parentage to be honest)

୨୧ you’re very gentle too, with both words and actions, your voice has such a soft tone to it making percy absolutely melt into you

୨୧ he loves laying his head in your lap, he’s such a softie, especially when you card your fingers through his raven hair slowly— it’s his favorite

୨୧ or even when you kiss him gently, your lips pink and oh so soft, he always finds himself pulling you back in after just a peck

୨୧ back to your abilities, psyche kids are almost like an oracle, they can see people differently than everyone else

୨୧ which was something you weren’t sure you could do until percy came along

୨୧ it was during your first kiss when you saw the vision: a string tangled into one hand and another, slowly but surely making their way to each other until connecting at last, soulmates you had known it as

୨୧ but after that his aura always appeared with tiny hearts no matter the mood

୨୧ you knew now, you’d find each other in this and every universe, the adoration failing to falter

[getosfavoritewife]

The Sun Always Rises

✮⋆˙ General Jing Yuan has a way of bringing sunlight to you, regardless of how much you avoid the warm rays. (1.5k words)

✮⋆˙ A/N: first post!! jing yuan has such a lazy/cozy feel and I'm still trying to gauge his personality so sorry if it's a bit ooc!!

✮⋆˙ Warning(s)/Content: forgemaster!reader; implications of mental health concerns (nothing heavy); can be read as platonic or romantic; fluffy fluff, teasing

✮⋆˙ jing yuan x gn!reader

Hearing three knocks against your door on a sunny winter evening could only signify one thing.

Not even trying to conceal the lack of surprise on your face, you open the door for your expected visitor; as usual, Jing Yuan greets you with a pleasant smile, hands comfortably clasped behind his back as he strides in like he owns the place, opens the curtains, and makes himself at home.

“Arbiter General,” you murmur, almost as if scripted.

“Forgemaster,” he replies in turn with a twinkle in his eyes, also as expected.

You don’t ask if he wants tea, opting to pour two cups and place them on the table as you both sit down. Forgemaster Yingxing had always taught you to be polite to guests, but that was a very long time ago, and Jing Yuan wasn’t just any guest.

“There’s a festival in Aurum Alley this evening,” Jing Yuan muses as he eyes the tea with interest, picking the small cup up as he gives the hot liquid a gentle blow and careful sip.

You know where he’s going with this, so at this point, the best course of action is feigned indifference and avoidance. “And you came all the way over here to let me know? Especially during such a busy day at The Seat of Divine Foresight?”

You take a ginger sip of the tea, grimacing as it burns the tip of your tongue, before placing it back down on the table. Master Yingxing’s tea was far superior to yours anyway—if he could see the hot garbage you’d brewed, he would have scolded your skills all afternoon.

Jing Yuan’s voice brings you out of your thoughts. “Astute as always. You should get out of the house more.”

“I leave the house,” you try not to sound defensive, squinting at the man sitting across from you. “I go to the forge every day.”

“Other than there?”

“And… I went to the market last week,” you grumble, rooting around in your brain for excuses. Lamely, all you come up with is a throwaway line about being too busy that you know Jing Yuan won’t buy. Anyone else would accept the lies that rolled off your tongue like second nature, but not Jing Yuan. He knew you and your habits all too well.

He stands up, dusting his pants off with a lazy smile. “Wonderful, grab your coat.”

“No, Jing Yuan. No.” You respond too quickly, shooting up as you wrack your brain for an excuse.

The softness with which he calls your name is lost to the roaring silence of the room and you know what face he’s making without even looking.

That corner above the cupboard really needs dusting. Master Yingxing would sneeze because of the dust, and he’d blame allergy season. Maybe tonight—

“Only for a little while,” he coaxes, as he swipes a strand of hair from obscuring your eyes. Maybe that’s what makes you meet his eyes: golden and full of life as usual, albeit with his dark circles that seemed worse than before.

“I’ll think about it,” you sigh tiredly, reaching up to run your fingers under his eyes. “You should sleep more, Jing Yuan. You look tired.”

A laugh rumbles out of him at that as he closes his eyes and leans into your touch. You can’t help but let the corners of your mouth quirk up in response. “Don’t let the others at The Seat of Divine Foresight hear you say that.”

“If only you would stop sneaking away at the sight of paperwork, maybe they wouldn’t be so wary of your work ethic,” you scold halfheartedly.

Jing Yuan simply watches you, an adoring smile peeking out that makes you want to push him away from you, embarrassed. Instead, you card your fingers through his hair, murmuring how his ribbon is coming loose as you free it from his snowy locks.

He sighs, letting his eyes flutter shut as you tug through his fluffy hair, replicating his usual hairstyle with practiced ease. You let your thoughts wander to when you used to re-tie his hair every day after it came loose during sparring while Master Yingxing went to go meet with sword master Jingliu and the others.

“How’s Yanqing’s training coming along?” Breaking the delicate silence, your voice always sounds unfamiliar these days; the results of less use, you suppose.

A golden eye cracks open to peer at you, and Jing Yuan lets out another sigh, this time more rueful. “You know how he tends to be. It still surprises me the speed with which he is able to pick up on new techniques and skills, but that obsession with winning and losing…” Jing Yuan trails off. “It’s like I say, if you treat him as a child, he'll put on the airs of an adult. If you treat him as an adult, he'll show the temperament of a child.”

“It’s a difficult age. Remember how you used to be?”

You bite back a snicker at the mock-offended look Jing Yuan shoots you.

“I don’t quite remember it like that,” he says. “I believe I was a joy to be around at every age.”

“I’m sure you remember it like that.”

“How else could you remember it?”

You take a break from playing with his hair to flick him on the forehead, at which he lets out a soft hiss, rubbing the small red mark and catching your hand before you can give him another one. “So mean.”

With a scoff, you make no move to remove your hand from his grip, letting yourself relax in his grasp. “You were nothing short of a terror. Anytime I tried to hang out with you it was always ‘Let’s spar here!’ or ‘Extra training is basically hanging out!’. I got so sick of you that I told Master Yingxing to stop meeting Master Jingliu when I was around.”

“Was I… really like that?” You can’t help but laugh at Jing Yuan’s face, ignoring the smile creeping onto his face at the sight of your laughter.

“All I’m saying is that he’ll grow out of it, just like you did. Kids are desperate to prove themselves at that age. You ought to praise him a little more,” you advise him softly.

“I give praise where it is deserved,” Jing Yuan places your clasped hands on his chest with fake affrontedness, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he huffs in amusement.

“Yet I am expected to praise you even when you are undeserving?”

“I hadn’t realized there were times where I was ever undeserving of praise?” You can’t help to smack him with the hand that was resting on his chest as he pretends to ponder.

“Speaking of Yanqing though—” you start before Jing Yuan interrupts.

“I thought we were speaking about me?”

The roll of your eyes seemed to simply be an intrinsic reaction to Jing Yuan’s teases after all these years of dealing with his painfully fatherly sense of humor.

“General.”

The pleased smile on his face only curled higher. “I’m listening.”

“As I was saying, Yanqing’s birthday is approaching this month. Maybe it’s time he finally receives a sword from the Forgemaster on his birthday this year?”

“I can already imagine his tears of joy. He still asks when he can meet you sometimes. I admit I have yet to give him an answer in fear that he will spend every moment not used for training to instead bother you incessantly at your forge.”

“Like father, like son, I suppose. Send him around—it’s truly no bother. It would also help me figure out a suitable blade for him.”

You pretend to not see the way Jing Yuan’s brows knit together at your teasing jab.

“Come watch us train sometime soon. To help you gauge his fighting style, of course,” Jing Yuan remarks lightly.

“Of course,” you echo. Giving him a look before sighing, you grab your coat off the hook, opening the door for him as you slip it on. “Only for a little while at the festival, please. And no buying or winning me anything while we’re there.”

Jing Yuan doesn’t even try to hide the smile unfurling on his face and you know the next words that come out of his mouth are bound to be an easy lie. “Wouldn’t dream of anything else, Forgemaster.”

From spending every free minute together as kids to only seeing him when he came knocking on your door every single day. No matter what happened, the sun always rose the next day. And no matter what happened, your Jing Yuan was always there.

thanks for reading!! ✮⋆˙

[14dayswithyou]

Conan sent me here!

[SPOILER TERRITORY]

It was a pretty dick move for MC to just bail on Ren and Elanor at the aquarium. Wouldn't it be better to have an option to either go with Leon or stay with the other two?

⌞♥⌝ Technically, you do!! ^^ If you choose not to go into the closet, you'll (eventually) go with Leon. Every other choice lets you stay with Ren and Elanor.

In saying all that, I don't think there's much point in offering another choice since you don't really get any extra scenes with Elanor and Ren afterwards. Regardless of whether you go into the closet or not, Elanor and Teo will always leave, and Ren will show up again no matter what choice you make. So... You just have to choose whether you want to spend more time with Leon or Ren, I guess lol

But I can see where you're coming from, and you definitely have a point!! But at the end of the day, it's just a video game, so I wouldn't look too deeply (or personally) into some of the characters' actions. Some things are just there for the sake of plot progression ^^

🌷 Game dev yapping under the cut (if anyone cares to read about that hehe /pos) 🌷

I personally don't think Leon's route would've been as fun if Ren and Elanor were to tag along, especially considering how all three share very similar dynamics when it comes to interacting with Angel (a.k.a. being overly protective/motherly with Angel. The dialogue with those three would be very... bland and overbearing in my opinion shjshg).

I also wouldn't find it engaging (as a player) to spend the entire day consoling Teo while playing mediator with him, Jae, Elanor, and Ren as well. If I added Leon to the scene, I feel like there'd be too much going on and not enough focus on him.

Also... Teo, Elanor, and Ren all had more than enough screen time up until that point!! Since Leon was missing for most of Day 4, I wanted Leon enjoyers to have a personal moment with him — without everyone else around. And Ren... Well, he's the main love interest, so he naturally has to be around for most of the game lmao

Anyways!! Sorry for yammering hsghjs