#awareness about lions

[manasastuff-blog]

"World Lion Day"#trending#viral

This day serves as a global reminder of lions' vital role in our ecosystem and the urgent need to protect these magnificent creatures. we delve into the significance of World Lion Day, highlighting the conservation efforts essential to prevent lions' extinction. You'll learn about the current state of lion populations, the challenges they face, and what you can do to help. Whether you're passionate about wildlife conservation or simply curious, will provide you with the insights and knowledge needed to understand why World Lion Day is so crucial.

Call: 7799799221 Website: www.manasadefenceacademy.com

#WorldLionDay#LionConservation#SaveLions#WildlifeProtection#EndangeredSpecies#ConservationEfforts #BigCats#WildlifeAwareness#LionFacts#ProtectLions#trending#viral

[handsomethrowrug]

do you have a descendants verse for Scar?

OOC: By definition, yes!

It's one where I decide to be a little silly and decided that he's staying as a talking lion. No human form for him! However, if he has kids, he'll encourage them to adopt the human form to use as a 'disguise'. He simply has no interest in shapeshifting.

What do he do? Be a nuisance, generally. Take enjoyment out of pestering any residents of A.uradon that come by, the usual grumpy paws stuff.

[amandabe11man]

"Why couldn't all the other shibito be nice like Reiko? Then they wouldn't have to be exterminated."

- Kyoya and Miyako, probably

[philzokman]

Why do people think humans killing each other is a bad thing when animals do the same thing and nobody gives a shit? NOW I'M NOT SAYING I AGREE WITH MURDER, IT'S A GENUINE QUESTION. I will explain. (I will be using lions as an example)

The only known predator for lions are other lions. They have no need to kill each other whatsoever. They don't need to in order to survive(technically) and they don't need to in order to get food.

Lions are warm-blooded mammals and they have feelings and they can learn things, just like humans. They learn from mistakes and they adapt. They have even made up their own language through sounds that come out of their mouths, just like humans. I think that this kind of shows that they have thoughts and maybe a conscience.

Knowing this, human beings do not give a damn if animals kill each other, whether it be for food or for sport. So why do people get so upset when humans do the same thing? It just doesn't make very much sense to me.

man i’m just a little guy

[valiant-portabella-pirkko]

me @ myself: i do not need more gw2 character ideas. i do not need more gw2 character ideas. i do not need more gw2 character ideas. i do not n

my brain, ignoring me: but consider: a sentient jade-powered watchknight construct affiliated with the Tideturners, matching with the watchwork wings

[fightinggamegirlfriend]

I think lars would be an therian/otherkin. obviously the whole lion motif is kinda built into his character but like. To me he is a kinnie. /genuine.

[reasonsforhope]

"In 2021, scientists in Guelph, Ontario set out to accomplish something that had never been done before: open a lab specifically designed for raising bumble bees in captivity. 

Now, three years later, the scientists at the Bumble Bee Conservation Lab are celebrating a huge milestone. Over the course of 2024, they successfully pulled off what was once deemed impossible and raised a generation of yellow-banded bumble bees. 

The Bumble Bee Conservation Lab, which operates under the nonprofit Wildlife Preservation Canada, is the culmination of a decade-long mission to save the bee species, which is listed as endangered under the Xerces Society for Invertebrate Conservation...

Although the efforts have been in motion for over a decade, the lab itself is a recent development that has rapidly accelerated conservation efforts. 

For bee scientists, the urgency was necessary. 

“We could see the major declines happening rapidly in Canada’s native bumble bees and knew we had to act, not just talk about the problem, but do something practical and immediate,” Woolaver said. 

Yellow-banded bumble bees, which live in southern Canada and across a huge swatch of the United States, were once a common species.

However, like many other bee species, their populations declined sharply in the mid-1990s from a litany of threats, including pathogens, pesticides, and dramatic habitat loss. 

Since the turn of the century, scientists have plunged in to give bees a helping hand. But it was only in the last decade that Woolaver and his team “identified a major gap” in bumble bee conservation and set out to solve it. 

“No one knew how to breed threatened species in captivity,” he explained. “This is critically important if assurance populations are needed to keep a species from going extinct and to assist with future reintroductions.”

To start their experiment, scientists hand-selected wild queen bees throughout Ontario and brought them to the temperature-controlled lab, where they were “treated like queens” and fed tiny balls of nectar and pollen. 

Then, with the help of Ontario’s African Lion Safari theme park, the queens were brought out to small, outdoor enclosures and paired with other bees with the hope that mating would occur. 

For some pairs, they had to play around with different environments to “set the mood,” swapping out spacious flight cages for cozier colony boxes. 

And it worked. 

“The two biggest success stories of 2024 were that we successfully bred our focal species, yellow-banded bumble bees, through their entire lifecycle for the first time,” Woolaver said. 

“[And] the first successful overwintering of yellow-banded bumble bees last winter allowed us to establish our first lab generation, doubling our mating successes and significantly increasing the number of young queens for overwintering to wake early spring and start their own colonies for future generations and future reintroductions.”

Although the first-of-its-kind experiment required careful planning, consideration, resources, and a decade of research, Woolaver hopes that their efforts inspire others to help bees in backyards across North America. 

“Be aware that our native bumble bees really are in serious decline,” Woolaver noted, “so when cottagers see bumble bees pollinating plants in their gardens, they really are seeing something special.”"

-via GoodGoodGood, December 9, 2024

[nightblackowlbat]

Danny steals Jason

Danny was the newbiest of noobs on the street rat scene. Poor kid isn't cut out for the cut-throat culture of Gotham homelessness. His soft heart and mid-western manners means he ends up giving up the lion's share of what he does manage to scavenge.

It concerned Jason. Being soft like that was a great way to get killed. Danny was chum in the shark infested waters. Hood asked one of the older alley kids how Danny hadn't gotten eaten alive.

"It's like taking candy from a baby" she confided in Hood. "Easy as fuck, but you can't help but feel bad about it."

Now, Red Hood has a deal with the alley kids. If anyone manages to steal from all of the Waynes without getting caught, he will pay for all their necessities until they turn 18.

Really, it's a win-win. Bruce and his brood get extra awareness training and more incentive to stay out of Jason's territory. The kids get bought a meal after they're inevitably caught. Jason gets to laugh at his family.

He never expected his deal to be taken advantage of by Danny of all kids.

"Psst! Red Hood!"

Jason glanced over to see Danny beckoning him over. Curious, and a bit wary at the nervous look on the boy's face, he approached. "What's up kid?"

"C'mon! Over here!" Danny insisted, moving further away.

Jason followed. "What's this about?"

Danny didn't answer. Instead he just grabbed his hand and sped up. He kept glancing back at him and it was making Jason nervous. Did the kid get in over his head and coerced into luring Red Hood into a trap?

"Kid?" He asked again, tension leaking into his voice.

"Not yet. Almost there."

Abruptly they stopped on a random street corner. Jason noted that it was tactically a poor place for an assassination. Still, if something was gonna go down, he'd have to make sure the kid made it to safety.

"Danny-"

"I abducted you." Danny interrupted, confirming Jason's suspicious. "I used persuasion to get you someplace you don't wanna be," He pointed at the ground at that, presumably for emphasis. "Which counts as abduction. And I didn't get caught by the Bats."

"Okay? Danny, you-"

"You're sort of a bat which means I stole you from the bats!" the kid interrupted again. "And the bats are the Waynes. So I stole from all the Waynes without getting caught! I won the challenge!"

As Jason's brain rebooted all he could manage to say was, "What makes this spot someplace I don't wanna be?"

Danny just grinned and pointed at the ground again.

Jason looked down. He was standing in a chalk outline with lots of arrows titling it the "Stupid Circle"

Based on these two posts:

Pickpocket for Hire:

Jason gets 'kidnapped':

@queeniewithabeanie @apatheticsunday @im-totally-not-an-alien-2

[loriache]

tags from @yuri-puppies: #this is such a good addition prev!!!!#i hadn't noticed how kabru's laios infodump serves to get the readers to... basically take laios seriously#and to understand why he could be perceived as a threat#although we already know he's the protagonist so i'd say the trick is more in getting us to believe#that dunmeshi is the kind of fantasy story that has a destined hero of prophesy and make us forget that it's a genre deconstruction#i love love love the idea that kabru is almost aware that he's in a story#both as a ptsd survivor's guilt coping mechanism (“if not for this what was the point of me surviving”)#and because he LITERALLY is#(i'm always thinking of those xmas exchange extras kui did where everyone's talking about their gift#but kabru is freaking out about exactly what kind of au is this)#and it's not that he's wrong genre savvy - he's remarkably correct in his assessments relative to the amount of knowledge he has#it's just that laios is such a genre-busting powerhouse#*strayitaliangreyhound.mp3 playing in the distance*#(sorry the labru brainworms took over for a second. back to our regularly scheduled content.)#“and it's not Kabru's schemes and stories that allow him to help Laios” <- this so much#his attempt to strategize evacuating the dungeon fails but his impulse move to save a life succeeds#his attempts to narrativize mithrun's backstory are completely unfruitful from a plot perspective#and even though he ingratiates himself with the canaries and tries to guide laios through deceiving them he prevents no plot events#until it all unravels and he's forced to honesty (ch. 76 my beloved)#and even in the denouement he's still fretting; trying to rationalize and narrativize wtf just happened#hngggghgkdlgd i love him so much#dunmeshi#dungeon meshi#dungeon meshi manga spoilers

We really get to see Kabru exercise his social awareness and his story-crafting skills this episode, like how he tailors his backstory differently to Toshiro and Namari (and the Floke twins out of frame!) - framing the massacre of his people as a result of elven interventionism and focusing on his personal tragedy; contrasting his hardworking mother to the faceless, dispassionate elven forces

vs how he talks about Utaya with the elves, first by making them take him seriously pay proper attention to him, indirectly invoking Milsiril's social capital to create a nepo-baby persona* that paints Kabru as not-like-the-other-tallmen, why he's practically a Canary

*i said persona. if you call him a nepo baby in my notes i will send a squad of trained skunks to your house to eat your plants and spray your kitchen counters and also block you

(baffles me. BAFFLES ME that there are readers who fell for it. at least the Japanese VA did a great job of making it sound just fake enough for the audience to clock it as a successful deception check, so it should be clearer now)

Only then he appeals to their emotion, framing Utaya as being about the elves' misplaced best efforts and the losses they suffered, framing the death of imperial soldiers as equal to the brutal massacre of a large city's worth of people. That emotional appeal and successful positioning of himself as aligned with the Canaries is what allows him to ultimately propose his plan to evacuate the dungeon.

[mist-the-wannabe-linguist]

Hot take

Night furies are actually perfectly evolved for hunting and killing other dragons and the only reason they aren't a dragon-hunting species like the death song or deathgrippers are is because DreamWorks couldn't have their adorable main character dragon be a "cannibal"

(below I'm gonna try to summarize what we've figured out in a convo with friends on discord)

(also tw animal death via predator)

First of all yes I'm aware that pretty much every decision made about their design was with consideration of the effect it would make on human audiences but hear me out

Night furies are most iconically known as dive-bombers. They are built for speed, high maneuverability, night-time camouflage and for striking targets from above. If we remove human settlements out of the equation (which would not have existed long enough to actually influence night fury evolution, come on), what does that leave us with?

They aren't built for catching fish for sure, they aren't very hydrodynamic and their head is round, wide, and their teeth are dull. Honestly, the monstrous nightmare is much better suited for catching fish, with its long neck, almost pelican-like jaw and rhamphorhynchus teeth

Compare to

Yeah the jaws look kinda like a porpoise of some sort but for that the whole body would have to be a lot more aquatic imo. The light fury looks a lot closer to an aquatic diver, it has a sleeker body, rounded fins instead of spikes, and a long neck.

I don't really see them hunting land animals either, they just don't look like they're adapted for that minus the resemblance with large felines and even then, they're too large to effectively hunt in forests.

The one thing I can kinda imagine them hunting is large mainland megafauna, but we're working with a setting that takes place pretty much exclusively on islands. And overall, dragons are the only abundant species there with the exception of fish and human-bred sheep and chickens.

In general, night furies have duller teeth, smaller claws and are smaller than most dragons. Disregarding the movies making Toothless weirdly OP, a night fury would be disadvantaged against most dragons in a 1v1 fight and besides, it has four huge weak spots that would highly discourage it from a direct physical fight - the primary and secondary tail fins. One unlucky rip in the membrane and the night fury is fucked.

The night fury however noticeably resembles falcons, given their dive-bombing ability and high maneuverability.

Falcons too have smaller beaks and weaker claws compared to most birds of prey, and for that they compensate by simply picking up speed, balling up their talons and Punching. Really. Hard.

And they use that ability to kill other birds, even much larger ones, by knocking them right from the sky.

Here, the night fury's plasma blast works the same way as a falcon's punch. Dragons are fire-resistant, so what the plasma blast does is really just a densely packed bolt of energy that has the effect of either stunning or outright killing prey by damaging its spine. And what the plasma bolt doesn't do, rapid contact with the ground would finish. And if even that doesn't do it, the night fury's wide jaws and dull teeth are just fine for simply clamping around the unlucky dragon's neck and strangling it, like a lion or a pitbull.

The night-time camouflage allows the night fury to soar for extended periods of time perfectly unnoticed in the night sky, and by the time it strikes, the dragon wouldn't even know what's coming.

Unless

Say the hunting night fury is aware of other dragons sleeping under the trees, as most dragons probably would at night (village raids aside, most dragons seem to be diurnal), so how does the night fury get them in position where it can use its signature attack? Well, there's That Iconic Screech Of Death. Since in the movies it tends to appear not just during dive-bombings but also when charging up a blast, I imagine it's something the night fury is able to control to some degree. So by simply fake-diving in close proximity to sleeping dragons, it can effectively terrify them into leaving their hideout and fly out into the open where it can easily take them out.

I dunno, the possibility of night furies as predators to other dragons just makes so much sense to me, I really don't know what other reasons there would be for them to evolve these particular adaptations.

And one more little headcanon to add to this whole rant - since night furies are significantly smaller and less equipped for dragon vs dragon fights and are primarily speed-based predators, I imagine there is this very likely scenario:

There is one dragon who resembles a hyena, a lil bit

Ok, rant over

[prokopetz]

I apologise if you've already answered this, but I tried searching your blog and I'm unsure if you haven't or if it's another example of Tumblr's amazing search system.

I was talking with a friend recently about how much of a culture clash the Monk Class is compared to the rest of Dungeons & Dragons and was wondering if there is a coherent reason for their original inclusion. I'm aware that they're largely influenced by Shaolin monks as depicted in Hong Kong cinema in the 70's/80's as compared to the Sword and Sorcery stuff most of the rest of D&D takes influence from.

Basically, my question ultimately boils down to, "Is the Monk Class there purely because of an original player wanting to rule of cool their way into playing something wildly out of genre, or is there a stronger link between Sword and Sorcery and Hong Kong cinema that could have organically resulted in the Monk Class joining the rest of the classes?"

A lot of the link between the two was simply a matter of time and place. The kung fu craze hit North America at just about exactly the same time as the sword and sorcery revival that gave us films like Clash of the Titans and Beastmaster and The Sword and the Sorcerer and Dragonslayer and Krull – not to mention the Arnold Schwarzenegger Conan adaptation, which revived popular interest in first-wave sword and sorcery literature – so there was a lot of it going around. Analysis of early Dungeons & Dragons as a product of its media influences often overlooks that it was largely drawing on what was trendy in American popular media in the 1960s, 1970s and 1980s. Even the tonally incongruous Lord of the Rings references weren't a deep cut; while the books were originally published in the 1950s, they'd experienced a strong resurgence in the 1970s, putting them firmly in the popular consciousness at the time that D&D was being developed. All this being the case, it's not surprising that early D&D was also substantially influenced by Hong Kong action cinema.

That said, the reason the monk character class in particular (i.e., as opposed to kung fu media influences more generally) is there is allegedly because one specific guy in one of the game's early playtest groups really, really wanted to play as Remo Williams from Warren Murphy and Richard Sapir's The Destroyer; several of the class's signature abilities are direct references to powers Williams exhibits in the course of the novels. Remarks from folks who worked at TSR at the time have pointed the finger at Brian Blume as the Remo Williams fan in question, though accounts are conflicted whether Blume was actually an uncredited contributor to Dave Arneson's Blackmoor (1975), in which the class makes its first proper appearance, or whether Blume's interest merely prompted its inclusion.

This is the case for the character archetypes in a lot tabletop RPGs of that era; instead of trying to work out what classes "ought" be be present, authors would simply start with the types of characters their playtesters actually wanted to play, often based on specific popular media characters, then work backwards to derive an IC rationale for why those were the setting's standard adventuring professions. Other examples from D&D in particular most obviously include the Ranger (based on Tolkien's Aragon, naturally), but also the Paladin (principally inspired by Holger Carlsen from Poul Anderson's 1961 isekai novel Three Hearts and Three Lions, also the source of D&D's goofy regenerating trolls), the Assassin, back when it was still a separate character class (probably mainly based on the Assassin Caste from John Norman's Gor), and even the Wizard to a large extent (less Gandalf than you'd think: a large portion of D&D's iconic wizard spell list is lifted directly from the 1963 Vincent Price film The Raven).

(I often think that modern indie RPGs could benefit from reviving this approach. Like, fuck textual consistency – just pick half a dozen of your favourite popular media characters without regard for the compatibility of the source material and work backwards to explain why these six random assholes are your game's playable archetypes!)

[luvether]

BURNT SUN-KISSED POPPIES. mydei

summary, to be the childhood sweetheart of Kremnos‘ heir came the times where he sought comfort in you for all his tragedies.

mydei x gn!reader. fluff content. childhood to adulthood. secret pinings. puppy love. yearning. teasing. quality time. princess treatment. hurt with comfort. historical!au not canon compliant to amphoreus lore. written before version 3.0. [3.6k wc]

What are the chances you get to visit Castrum Kremnos during your father’s many business trips?

By the Gods above, luck was in your favor that day.

Because visiting Castrum Kremnos meant being able to see their renowned young crown prince Mydeimos, rumored to be one of the future heroes of Okhema city and the lion of Kremnos—and in secrecy to you, also the receiver of your affections for as long as you remember.

You aren’t certain when this unimaginable pull happened, was it the way you first saw the dawn captured red upon his braided hair? Or was it his big eyes that furnaced and melted into gold ingots with flicks of honey?

Your heart flutters at the thought of simply just encountering him, your fingers bunching up your fabrics as your carriage arrives at the city gates.

With a table full of wine, goat cheese and fruits—it was easy to slip away from your father. He was too busy settling jovial talks about the kingdoms’ flourish with Kremnos’ leaders to realize your absence. The unfamiliar palace is bigger than you expected, grandeur even, completely different from your home city. When your eyes trace the intricate patterns upon their pillars you can immediately seize out the lion from its marble carvings. But despite its size, it was no challenge to locate the prince.

The sound of clashing wooden swords would indicate where he was since you are aware of his duties to fight—and it is said that crown prince Mydeimos is usually seen spending his leisure on swordsmanship practice with young lord Phainon.

At times, you envy how often Lord Phainon is mentioned around the prince.

They both seem really close.

When the harsh clacks of wood on wood floats around your ears, your hurried paces falter into quiet footsteps. You find yourself sneaking under an olive tree and peeking through the shrubs, eyes landing on two boys on the garden with cobblestone beneath their leather boots—they seem entirely engrossed in their sparring. Under the honeyed heat your lips purse, watching Mydeimos dance around Phainon, wooden swords blurring your vision, swishing and parrying in front of them as each boy exchange light blows with one another.

An exhausted rasp of a chuckle comes spilling down Mydei’s lips, he angles his sword to block when Phainon leans forward, cutting down hard in his direction. You’ve noticed their manner in fighting and can weed out the difference in an instant. Lord Phainon is calculated with his movements, there’s stability in his balance, reassurance woven into the sinews of his back beneath his white tunic. Prince Mydeimos on the other hand is more fluid, he makes use of his dynamics and his footwork is unpredictable, but there’s grace captured in it—like he’s dancing—lunging forward in strict confidence then sidestepping, bouncing back then spinning.

Mydei smiles—a boyish grin that crinkles his eyes—seemingly setting the whole place an inch brighter than before and you’re blinded by the setting sun. You tilt your head more, unable to deny the warm flush from the pillows of your cheeks when you see the hint of dimples on his face, dimples.

The prince is truly astonishing.

Years you were under the tutelage of different priests, learning about prophetic dreams and imagery and clairvoyance—but maybe you were too dizzy watching the boys zip around the gardens, or maybe you were too into your daydreams you didn’t notice how they had hastened their attacks. Mydei was now attacking Phainon in quick succession, seemingly drunk under the thrill to notice Phainon’s stuttering words of take a break or slow down your highness. You were too distracted to notice how the prince swipes up, cutting the atmosphere—the lord’s wooden sword flies out his grasp and comes spinning in your direction.

Oh.

You feel the solid plank crash against your forehead—barely registering the shock that jolts through the two boys when you stumble onto the marble floor, holding your face that seems to quickly heat at both the pain and the embarrassment.

Oh.

“Oh, lord what have you done—“

“Me?” Phainon panics. “You were the one that didn’t stop attacking, I told you numerous times how I prefer a great sword than a simple one. I’m unfamiliar with the weight.”

“Well, I—“

“Ow…”

Their attention snaps back to you. Mydei tosses his wooden sword onto the cobblestone uncaringly and along with Phainon, comes to your aid.

“Hey, are you okay?” Both holding out their hands when they ease you back to your feet. Phainon leans down to brush the crumbs of dirt from your attire, checking to see if you have other injuries whilst Mydei winces at your reddening face.

“I—truly, I apologize.” You can hear the sincerity and guilt in the young prince’s tone. “I didn’t mean…”

“No, I—“ you were quick to speak up as well. Your face furnacing even more when his concerned honey eyes latch with your own—to think your first interaction with each other would be this, how humiliating.

“I was the one who intruded.” You murmur, leaning down to bow. “I apologize for getting in the way, young lords i didn’t want to disturb—“

“Oh gods.” Phainon curses.

You lift your head, confused, until you feel something hot trickling down your nose. Both your hand and Mydei’s fly up to your face, barely containing the blood that rolls down your chin.

“Prince, I think we are in trouble.”

“Stop saying nonsense, Phainon. Tell a servant to fetch us a cloth and a basin of water immediately.”

He didn’t need to be told twice and he was swift, his feet tapping along the marble as he sprinted down the hallway and now you were left alone with Kremnos’ young heir.

You can feel your heart pounding in your chest.

Luck was definitely not on your side today.

“Hey, uhm…” Mydei trails off. You see the cogs in his head turning before he gently lets go of your face, you feel a soft pressure at the back of your skull instead as the prince beckons you to lean down towards him.

“Here, press your nose on my tunic. It would be a problem if we don’t add pressure to stop the bleeding—“

Your eyes widen, cheeks hot as coals. You find yourself shaking your head fervently, using the young prince’s shirt to help your nosebleed? if your reputation hadn’t sunk to the bottom of a seabed, it had now. How could you, and to Prince Mydeimos of all people?

But Mydei is persistent, somehow unaware that your flushed face is more likely due to the shame you felt than your injury.

“Please.” He pushes gently. “I insist.”

His palm on the back of your head is steady, fingers rubbing the hair there, his other hand pinch his fabric shirt and tugs it up to press against your bleeding nose. ”Lord Phainon will be back soon, so rest assured. I truly apologize for my lack of manners today.”

It felt like a whole minute with you in close proximity with the Prince, then after that, when a servant came to tend to you—both prince Mydei and lord Phainon received an earful from the adults, to dare bring harm upon a young guest clergy from Janusopolis is an act of slander, they said to the young boys.

And you are no different as your father shakes his head at you, “you’re very lucky that they practiced with wooden swords, what were to happen if they were using actual weapons, what if it was a spear?”

You turn away, “I’m sorry, father—“

“That’s enough child. I should’ve known this would happen, especially with that curiosity of yours. I’ve told you time and time again to steer clear from training grounds, you are not fit for combat.” He pats your shoulder softly. “Come now, let’s not dawdle. We still have to visit the other cities.”

But father, it’s not mere curiosity. You wanted to combat but decide against it.

When you tag along with your father with flushed pink nose and defeated shoulders, you dare slip a glance from behind. Watching the young prince and the lord getting scolded.

But what you didn’t expect was Prince Mydeimos’ honey eyes already on you.

You turned away quickly and never looked back.

A week passes and your shame does not settle nor fade.

“Looks like you had quite a delightful time.” A throwaway comment from Anaxa, you don’t respond and he doesn’t even bother to look in your direction, flipping another scroll and perusing the text casually.

“What do I do, Anaxa, Hyacine?”

“What must you do?” Anaxa shoots you a puzzled look. “Bumping into Prince Mydeimos in Okhema is one in a million, and I am certain your father won’t take you back to Castrum Kremnos after that troubling incident.

“This is so unfair.” You bury your face onto your arms.

Your younger companion heartens over your shoulder, “Cheer up. I’m sure you’ll stumble into him eventually.” Hyacine smiles at you. “After all, Okhema is celebrating a festival. You never know.”

Your eyes gloss over the open window, from the distance you hear the alluring instruments hither thither in gracious waves, the warm winds gossip, the furors of the crowd echo, the clinking of wine and your companions’ soft murmurs from behind you. You lean your cheek against your arm, watching the sky like a meadow of blues.

Distracted, you don’t notice someone approaching until you see a hand come over your vision.

Your eyes flutter, tracing the calloused palm down the arm before meeting the face.

Honey eyes greet you back.

You jolt, Prince Mydeimos.

He sees the recognition spark in your eyes and he smiles, “So it was you.” He lowers his hand, tugging his cloak. “I thought I recognized someone familiar on the window, it’s nice to see you again!”

“Prin…Prince Mydeimos.” You've straightened now. “What are you doing here?”

Your heart seizes when you watch him lean close to you, his dimples are prominent from here, like an intentional dip on a carved marble. He presses a finger to his lips, his boyish grin almost contagious.

“I sneaked away.” He rasps. “It’s a little stiff to have servants follow you around in Okhema’s festival.”

“Oh, I see.” Your eyes fleet. It seems like it has caught the attention of your companions, for the young priestess and sage are now leaning against the wall beside the window, out of view from Mydeimos.

The prince places a hand on the windowsill. “Do you want to come with me?”

Your lips part. “Come with you?”

“Yes. I uhm.” Mydei turns away, then looks back at you. “I want to make it up to you, for what happened last week.”

“There’s no need for that, prince. I’m perfectly okay now and it’s my fault you and the lord got into trouble.” Despite your incessant shakes, he combats it with stubbornness.

“I understand. But I still feel responsible for what has happened.” He tells you. “Then, if not to make up for it, just keep me company?”

“I’m not supposed to…” You hesitate.

But then you felt a foot tap your ankle. Your eyes flicker briefly towards Anaxa and Hyacine—one giving you an encouraging nod and the other had apathy in the face, but he tilts his head on the window as if beckoning you to go. You crack a smile then turn to Mydei and nod.

His smile widens, then he hoists you out of the window frame, strong arms around your torso. Your cheeks darken at his actions.

When the two of you walk down the street, you are splashed with the joyful spirit weaving through the festival. You don’t usually participate whenever these festivals happen, you have no one to go with you. You never wanted to bother your father with your trivial requests, and you had your own duties to finish that you don’t have time for leisure.

The prince tries to match your pace, shoulders barely touching but it wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable. In fact, Mydeimos has been kind to you which was far from the confident boy who held a spear in the arena.

He treats you as if you are something to him—you immediately shake such thoughts from your head.

Mydei taps your shoulder, pulling you out of your daydreams. “Are you hungry?”

In the young prince’s hands were two figs. You graciously took one from him. “Thank you, Prince Mydeimos.”

The honeycomb in his eyes softened. “Please just call me Mydei.” The fruit is brought to his lips, a crunch resounds when he takes a big bite.

During that time, under the golden festival hue—Mydeimos appeared like a brilliant child, the spirit still flickering a candle in his eyes and the looks he gave you, they were so undeniably soft. You both stopped at small stands, lingered at performances and smiled at the musicians playing instruments—all the while the prince made sure you were entertained and satiated with food; soft bread, cakes, olives. He even goes on a tangent when you had said you never tried specific meat before—those that were exclusive to the high and wealthy.

The prince would take each meat from the table, cupping a hand beneath your chin when you take a bite out of his portion.

You perk up. “It’s good.”

“Right?” Mydei laughs. “This one’s my favorite. We usually only have these in Kremnos during—“

“Are you eloping, my dear prince?”

Your attention is dragged to the owner of the quip. Lord Phainon appears from the thick of the crowd, and his teasing tone brings heat to your cheeks. Mydei scowls at his companion, “why are you here?”

Phainon greets you by ruffling your hair, “have you even an inkling of remorse for your pitiful servants?” His ocean blue eyes aren’t laughing despite his smile. “They’ve been looking for you for an hour or two, to the point it’s starting to spin into a commotion on the festival streets.”

This prompts Mydei to sigh. “Those fellows…”

A flute and strings draws their attention. Suddenly the crowd erupts into cheers, some step forth, dancing on the streets. You can feel Mydei’s eyes on you, then flickering to Phainon.

Maybe it was the expression on the prince’s face that Phainon let out a heavy sigh. “I’ll deal with your servants. You have an hour.”

“That’s all that I need.” Mydei smiles when Phainon turns on his heel to leave. “I owe you, my friend.”

“It’s nothing.” Phainon’s eyes flutter over to you, and his gentle smile returns, mouthing a take care of him before tugging on his hood and disappearing. At that time, you didn’t really know what the young lord meant with that.

And you didn’t have time to ponder, Mydei’s large hand is inching over yours, his fingertips brushing your skin. You look over to him and he asks, “do you know how to dance?”

You barely remembered what you responded back. The prince’s hands have captured your own, more of a soft caress than a hold before slowly pulling you onto the streets and the flurry of dancing citizens. The outside lights careens into the expression on his face when he tells you to dance with him.

You both circle each other and you watch his footwork—sidestepping, bouncing back then spinning—Mydei’s hand is not far from yours, and he pulls you into his dance, a palm seeking refuge on your torso and the other securing your hand, he spins you around and you cannot help the bubble of a laugh from slipping from your lips.

Between the flurries and the crowds there was nothing but you and the prince, everyone else was barely a splotch of watercolor on canvas.

An hour burns through quickly when you’re having fun. The sky began to dim and the festival had hushed, when his servants finally found him and he got in the carriage, he pops his head out the window, calling your name before you can leave.

You seek the honey in his eyes once again, and he leans into his open palm, “visit Castrum Kremnos sometimes.” Mydei grins. “It's a bore to always spend time sparring with Phainon and he’s not a great dancer like you are.

You mirror his grin with your own. “If this is what my prince wants, then I’ll obey.”

The brightened smile that Mydei gave you felt like he had shaved a piece of the sun and reflected it on his own expression. “See you.”

“Goodbye, Kremnos’ prince.”

That expression of his had engraved into your membrane as years shuffle and roll, it’s the exact same face he shows you when you finally visit him—not as a clergy guest of the city but Prince Mydeimos’ guest.

So it's very hard for you to believe in those rumours, rumours that stated that Castrum Kremnos’ hero had gone manic—the same as when the heretical black tide came and made the titans mad. It’s just difficult.

You’re aware that war and battles change a person. It came to make their blooming heart wither into a wasteland, but you know Mydeimos for so long.

You knew him as his childhood friend, as someone who had admired him and his heart for years on end—you never believed rumours about him and if it were true, you wanted to make your own judgement and witness it for yourself.

So when talks of Mydei’s arrival from the battlefield reached your ears, you did not hesitate to start packing for the trip.

Your journey to Kremnos was hasty. You had ignored the rebuttals your father threw at you and got on the carriage. As years passed, so did Castrum Kremnos. It did not beguile a glow like it used to, but your mind’s a raging storm. Your pace is impatient as you run down the corridors of the familiar city.

The sound of the steel sword would indicate where he was since you are aware of his duties to fight—and it is said that crown prince Mydeimos is usually seen spending his leisure on swordsmanship, alone.

Your hand is pressed against the olive tree bark, heaving heavy breaths as your eyes land on Mydeimos’ back, his muscles and sinews are hardened under the reddish hue of sunset, flexing as he moves his sword to cut the air. You barely notice the look on his eyes as well, gone were his large honey pupils and chub on his cheeks, now his gaze has sharpened into resin, narrowed with furrowed brows. He’s no longer as talkative or carefree as back then.

You take a step closer and flinch when Mydeimos turns to your direction, the sword lands heavy above your shoulders, almost grazing your cheek and ears.

The air hangs heavy with tension.

“It’s me, Mydei.”

At the sound of your voice, the prince wavers. The sword is immediately retracted and his heavy heaves are all that fills the air between you two.

“You…” Mydei runs his fingers through his wet hair. “You really do have the habit of just wandering into the practice grounds like this.”

You look away. “I’ll try not to next time.” You were just a little worried about him today.

When you feel a fingertip running down your jaw, you turn back to him.

Mydeimos’ eyes land on something on your face, his frown deepening. “There’s a cut.” He tells you. is there?

You cannot help the slight sting or wince when he presses the wound. At your reaction, he tries to pull away but your hands are quick to capture it, placing his calloused palms back on your cheeks.

“It’s okay.” You tell him but he’s noiseless.

Instead he tilts your head sideways, then leans down. His rough lips on your cheek is all you feel and you’re engulfed in Mydei’s scent of bonfire and wood and smoke.

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs, pressing another kiss to your other cheek and you told him it was fine. His head lands heavy on your shoulder so you don’t dare ask him how he’s been or how the battlefield was—you doubt he’d want to answer it right now.

“Will you stay for a bit?” He’d ask you and in response you’d embrace him.

“For as long as you wish.”

He pushes a bit. “Will you be by my side then?”

“If you command it, I will.”

Silence.

“Stay with me today?” Mydei adds. “Please?”

For a moment, Phainon’s words are on your ears: take care of him.

You tug him back and hold his cheeks on your palms, your eyes dissect his every fold and dip in expression, the downcasted frown and tired eyes. You give him a bright smile—a smile that flickers a glow on his honey pupils—then rest your forehead against his own.

“I’m here for as long as I live.” You murmur sweetly. “Even if it’s just us left, I’ll be with you.” because I love you, Mydei. For everything that I have.

You don’t announce it, but Mydei’s expression seems to shift when he gazes into your eyes, like he’d read the words written in them.

And holding him like this, you prayed to yourself—to wish nothing but endless glory and victory to Mydeimos for all the tragedies he’d witnessed.

You are not skilled in combat, but you’d hope your support and embraces can heal his wounds just as much. But when Mydei leans forward and presses another kiss on your forehead and two cheeks, your skin is matted and sun-kissed at the trail of his lips. It’s as if he’s telling you that yes, you’re healing him, you’re making him happy.

And you smile at the manner.

[vadlings]

Represention of Autistic Frustration in Laios Dungeon Meshi

Like many other autistic people, I related strongly to Laios Touden while reading Dungeon Meshi. This post isn't going to spend time disputing whether he displays autistic traits or not—while I could do that, I want to focus on why specifically his portrayal struck a chord with me in a way the writing of most other autistic-coded characters has not.

Disclaimer: as the above suggests, this post is strongly informed by my own experiences as an autistic person, as well as the experiences of my neurodivergent friends with whom I have spoken about this subject. I want to clarify that in no way am I asserting my personal experience to be some Universal Autistic Experience. This post is about why Laios' character feels distinct and significant to me in regard to autistic representation, and while I'm at it, I do feel that I have interesting things to say about autistic representation in media generally. This also got a bit long, so I'm sticking it under a read more. Spoilers for up to the end of chapter 88 below.

The thing that stands out most to me in regard to Laios' characterisation is the open anger he displays when someone points out his inability to read other people. This comes up prominently in his interactions with "Shuro" (Toshiro Nakamoto):

The frustration pictured above (Laios continuing to physically tussle with Toshiro, using crude language toward him) becomes even more notable when you remember that this is Laios, who, outside of these interactions, is not easily fazed and often exists as a lighthearted contrast to the rest of the cast. Then we get to Laios' nightmare.

In Falin's words: "Nightmares love emotional wounds. Wounds you hold in your heart. Things that give you stress, or things that were traumatic for you. They aggravate memories like that and cause the dreamer to have terrible dreams." (chapter 42, page 10.) (damn. i'm properly citing for this post and everything.)

Thus, Laios' nightmare establishes an important fact: even if he is unable to recognise social blunders while he's making them, he's at least subconsciously aware that other people operate on a different wavelength to him, and that he's an outsider in many of his social circles (both past and present). His dream-father's disparaging words stress the impact this has had upon his ability to live up to the expectations set out for him, and we also get a panel of kids who smirk at him (presumably former bullies to some degree). Toshiro's appearance only hammers home how much Laios is still both humiliated and angered by his misunderstanding of their relationship.

I've thought a lot about anger as concomitant to the autistic experience. When autistic representation portrays ostracization, it's generally from an angle of the autistic character being upset at how conforming to neurotypical norms doesn't come easily to them; as a result, they express a desire to 'get better' at meeting neurotypical standards, a desire to become more 'normal' (whether the writing implies this is a good thing or not). In contrast, not once does Laios go, "I need to perform better in my social interactions, and try to care less about monsters, because that's what other people find weird." His frustration is directed outward rather than inward, and as a result, it's the people around him who are framed as nonsensical.

The Winged Lion starts delineating Laios' anger, and Laios' reaction is to think to himself, "It can sense all my thoughts, huh?" (chapter 88, page 16.) This is the scene that really resonated with me. I'm not saying I have never felt the desire to conform to neurotypical norms that is borne from insecurity, but primarily, I know that I don't want to work toward becoming 'normal'—I don't want to change myself for people who follow rules I find nonsensical. It's the difference between, "Oh god, why can't I get it," and, "WHY CAN'T YOU GET IT?" (phrasing here courtesy of my friend Miles @dogwoodbite). And for me personally, Dungeon Meshi is the first time I've seen this frustration and the resultant voluntary isolation from other people portrayed in media so candidly. Laios' anger is not downplayed or written to be easily palatable, either.

The culmination of Laios' frustrations in this scene wherein we learn that Laios has fantasised about "a pack of monsters attacking a village" drives home just how alienated he really feels. I need not go into his wish to become a monster himself, redolent of how many autistic people identify/have identified with non-humans to some degree as a result of a percieved disconnect from society (when I was younger, I wanted to be a robot. I still kind of do.)

Obviously, wishing death upon other people is a weighty thing, but the unfiltered nature of this page is what deeply resonated with me. The Winged Lion is laying Laios' deepest and most transgressive desires bare, and they are desires that are a product of lifelong ostracization by others (whether intentional or unintentional). This is the brand of anger I'm familiar with, and that my neurodivergent friends express being familiar with, but that I haven't seen portrayed in writing so explicitly before—in fact, it surprised me because most well-meaning autistic representation I've experienced veers toward infantilisation in trying make the autistic character's struggles easy for neurotypicals to sympathise with.

Let's also not neglect the symbolism inherent to Laios' daydream. "A pack of monsters attacking a village". Functionally, monsters are Laios' special interest—he percieves everything first and foremost through his passion for monsters. His daydream of monsters attacking—killing—humans, is fundamentally a daydream of the world he understands (monsters) overthrowing the world that is so illogical to him, that has repeatedly shunned him (other people). I joked to my friends that it's an autistic power fantasy, and it actually sort of is. And in it, his identity is aligned with that of the monsters, while his anger manifests in a palpable dissociation from the rest of humanity. This is one manga page. It's brief. It's also very, very raw to me. I think about it often.

To conclude, I love Laios Dungeon Meshi. This portrayal of open frustration in an autistic character meant a lot to me, and I hope I've sufficiently outlined why. Also, feel free to recommend media with autistic representation in the notes if you've read this far—I would really like to see if there is more of this nature. Thank you for reading. I'm very tired and should probably sleep now.

[un-fwuit-un-fwog]

Hold your ear to my heart. Hear it beat.

Part three of The Rain series

Synopsis: Leona's POV from the night of the collapse + When he comes to visit The Prefect in the infirmary for the first time afterwards

TW: Injury, Ramshackle collapsing on The Prefect, Leona finds The Prefect, The Prefect IS NOT in a good state, Blood, Leona Vomits, Leona Cries

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 (here), Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9 (coming soon), . . .

Leona wasn't going to answer the phone that night. When he got a call a call at 9pm at night he was planning to hit decline, but, by some stroke of fate perhaps, his finger slipped and he hit answer. He cursed under his breath and was about to end the call when his blood ran cold. On the other end of the line he could hear distant shouts and the sound of harsh rain before a voice broke through the noise: "Kingscholar, we need you at Ramshackle immediately! Ramshackle collapsed and The Prefect got caught under the rubble-"

Leona hung up on Professor Crewel before he could finish talking. Well, he didn't really hang up; he crushed his phone.

Leona was out the door in less than a second. He dashed through the Savanaclaw lounge, startling Ruggie into spilling a basket of laundry and causing Jack to drop a weight on his foot. The lounge went quiet as they watched their dorm leader make a mad dash for the mirror. Nobody had ever seen Leona run like that before.

Barreling out of the mirror, Leona didn't once let up on his pace. Even when he got out into the rain that was so heavy he could barely see ten feet ahead of him, even when he was running on slick stones, Leona ran. When he reached the place where Ramshackle should have been he gagged.

He didn't gage because the sight of the dorm was hard to take in; he gagged because of the thick scent of iron that hung heavy in the air. It took every shred of will within the Lion not to throw up.

Crewel quickly filled him in on the plan and Leona got to work. When his magic pen was full of blot, the teachers lent him their respective magic stones. It wasn't until 12pm (On the dot. Everyone was sickeningly aware of how much time was passing with you under there.) that he finally got to you. The scent of iron flooded his lungs, but that wasn't what caused his face to shift to one of utter horror.

Bones weren't supposed to bend like that. They weren't supposed to be visible either. Was that even you? There's no way. . .there's no way. . . .

The STYX crew, who had arrived an hour earlier, rushed past him and quickly began checking you over and preparing to get you onto the stretcher. Professor Crewel had to pull Leona back because he couldn't move. He was like that until the STYX crew began to rush you to the infirmary.

Even then, he only moved to follow you. The staff didn't bother sending him back to his dorm. They knew he wouldn't leave now.

It wasn't until Leona was standing in the hallway outside of the infirmary that he looked down and threw up on the spot. He was covered in blood. Your blood.

Sam got him clothes to change into, and when Leona got back the area had been turned into a makeshift waiting room (and his vomit cleaned).

He stayed there until morning when he was forced to go back to his dorm to rest. He didn't sleep a wink.

Every time Leona closed his eyes, he saw you laying in the rubble covered in sand and dust and soaked in a mixture of rainwater and your own blood. You looked so cold. His hand only brushed yours, but you had felt so cold.

The counselor he was assigned was more of an annoyance than anything. They weren't able to get a single word out of him.

When Leona heard you woke up, he was just frozen. He didn't even put up a fight when the staff said he'd have to wait a week before he could see you. Honestly, he was scared.

His hand felt like lead as he reached it up to knock on the door.

A raspy, muffled "come in" came like a dying breeze through the door and Leona choked.

It took him longer than he'd like to admit for him to finally open the door and force his legs to move.

You could tell when he saw you that he was struggling to keep it together. You were hooked up to machines and covered in bandages. You had undergone quite a few surgeries since that night.

He was heartbreakingly silent as he stood there by the door.

You gently patted the bed next to you in a motion that made it clear you were still in a good deal of pain, but what he could see of your face betrayed no sign of it. The bed dipped as he sat by your side, facing away from you.

"Leona." You croaked his name, but he didn't respond. "Le-"

Before you could call his name again he had already turned around and, without giving you a chance to look at his face, gently ducked his head into your shoulder. He placed his head on a spot with no bandages, but still just barely hovered his head over you, scared he would cause you pain.

Everything was still for a moment before you lifted one of your arms, your bones creaking, to rest on the back of his head and gently, with what little force you could muster, bring it to rest just above your still beating heart.

He eventually caved and let the little weight of his head rest fully on you as he listened to the beating in your chest. When you looked behind him you could see that his tail was softly swaying to match the rhythm.

Before long you could feel the spot where his head laid begin to become damp. You still couldn't see his face as his lead laid so his ear was pressed to your heard and the back of his head facing you, but you had a pretty good idea of what was happening. You gently made circular motions with your fingers still in his hair (your would pet him, but moving more than just your fingers that much wouldn't be in your best interest).

You stayed like that for hours before he eventually had to leave. The entire time he was there he didn't speak a single word, but he didn't need to. You could tell what he had been feeling from the tear stain on your shirt.

As Leona was closing the door to the infirmary, he heard two soft words slip through the crack between the door and the frame "Thank you."

Blog Navigation Page

TWST Masterlist

Request Information

The Rain Tag List:

@fancyhawk45 , @chloemari-e , @jester-party , @dykyun , @chidorichild , @kaidragonclaw , @arie2faced , @darling-5yndrome , @pebble-bb , @entidy13, @owl778 , @phoenixiaxia , @blvdmrcnry , @twistedcece , @lunatheroyal , @heartz4aqours , @yukixies , @sugarxrt , @noncreativepage-blog , @sheepchansstuff , @lucky-whispers , @mc-cos-charm , @bluedmonsst , @kyxmlii , @nilladrawsstuff , @abeltownshipslittlebitch , @pro-cat-stination , @creativecupcake , @wishicouldart , @gloomikaze , @marsinrain , @thesarcasticpersonwhoneedss-blog , @pinkytoxichearts , @avalordream , @shatiyuh

[apiptosis]

First post so please have mercy.

The Waynes do attend galas and the like at other places than Gotham. It's rare, happens once in a blue moon and they hate it.

Now imagine Cass drawing the short straw as the dedicated child shapperone for Bruce and she takes out her frustration by either refusing to dance with said partner or humiliating them by outdancing them to make fools of them by using difficult dance moves and tricks depending on the dance and song. If she can discreetly make them trip she rewarded herself with some extra desert. Her favorite was to take over as the lead and forcing her dance partners to scramble as they suddenly had to learn how to follow.

Cue her finding adoption bait tm Danny Fenton who got dragged along by Vlad when he announced that he was hosting the biggest gala Illinois had seen in years and wanted to help his "dear godson" make some connections to help him for when he graduates at the end of the year.

It was some honest fun at the humiliation of the sons of the Uber rich but the 6'8 wall of muscle genuinely looked like out of place. It took her a few seconds to place why. It was as though someone dressed a lion in a suit and expected it to act like an upperclass citizen.

Curiosity bid her to ask the man to dance with her. To give her the chance to get a true feel of this curiosity. A challengeing light ignited within his eyes at the third time she suddenly pulled a twirl or intentionally miss stepped and he instantly corrected it.

By the fourth song both of them were giving the other challging smiles as they now took turns leading the other on the most complicated combos they could pull off. Neither of them aware that they drew the attention of everyone around.

By the time the night ended Danny 'Ghost King' Fenton left for Fentonworks with a small scrap of paper containg a number and name silently thanking the lessons dance lessons he was forced to learn by Sam at first and then the bevy of ghost who learned that their king 'wanted' to learn how to dance. The beautiful girl had spoken to him in a way he rarely had a chance to speak.

Cass dragged a faux grumbling Bruce to their hotel room feeling like she was in the most animated conversation of all time despite not a single word being exchanged. Her dance partner had truly seen her and reacted to all of the words she didn't and or couldn't say yet and spoke to her in the same way. For the first time in a long time she felt truly seen and understood by this stranger.

The entire ride home Bruce was typing into his phone and for some reason when they got home Damian was raving about purple gorillas?

[nebulaeternal]

✦.── In His Clothes── .✦

―୨୧⋆ ˚GENRE/WARNING: porn w/no plot, praise kink, edging, f!xm

―୨୧⋆ ˚SUMMARY: Sylus loved seeing you in his clothes, but couldn't help this particular night when you looked up at him with those eyes that could unravel him in an instant.

―୨୧⋆ ˚WORD COUNT: 0.8K

―୨୧⋆ ˚A/N: This is pure brainrot writing, mans has been dominating the cranium for too long now. This isn't super clean or anything, nothing is super structured, just pure brainrot. Borrowed some lines from @comatosebunny09 (thanks pookie). If you wanna sign up for the taglist for future posts, the link is below. Enjoy! (Can’t remember where I found the Sylus eye banner but credits to @omi-resources for the name one)

―୨୧⋆ ˚LINKS: AO3 Ver. , Twitter, Taglist Sign-up

―୨୧⋆ ˚TAGLIST: @voidsylus

If there was one little thing you did that made Sylus’s heart swell, it was wearing his clothes. It was an unspoken intimacy, a quiet declaration of your comfort in his space—and around him—to be able to equate it to your own. 

He always cherished the sight of you slipping into his home and raiding his closet for something loose and comfortable. Today was no different. Before he could properly greet you, you had already slipped into one of his oversized dress shirts. 

“Hi,” you chirped, finally meeting his gaze. The shirt hung off your shoulder in a way that made his pulse quicken. It was never your intention—at least that he was aware of—but Sylus could not help the way his gaze lingered on you. 

The hem of the shirt mocked him as it rode up your thighs when you reached for something. The deep v-neck dipped perfectly, drawing his eyes to the swell of your breasts every time you leaned over. He felt his body grow hot, his thoughts dancing on the edge of decency until your voice snapped him out of it. “Sylus?”

His stare was almost blank. “Yes sweetie?” He responded, trying to steady himself, though his mind was anything but. For a moment, he had forgotten what you even said, too distracted by the sight in front of him, of you in his shirt and out of your pants. “I was asking if a movie night was okay with you?” you repeated, leaning in with those knowingly pleading eyes that could unravel him in an instant. How could he possibly say no to that?

“Of course. It’s more than alright with me sweetie.”  His opens his arm to you, an invitation that you eagerly you accept as he reached for the remote on the table out in front of him. With his arm now wrapped around you, settling naturally against your side, his fingers idly caressing your skin as you both now turned your attention to the screen.

Except Sylus couldn’t focus. 

It was only about 30 minutes into the movie, his hands began to wander. Fingertips delicately grazing over your skin. His eyes flicked down catching a glimpse of your exposed skin, and finally he caved.

You were pinned beneath what you could call a hungry lion. He eagerly lapped at your skin as he sucked and bit the flesh, enjoying the dark marks that began to bloom. He was quick to have your folds sopping wet and dripping onto his fingers. Enjoying the way you squirmed and pawed at him, eyes glazed and filled with tears of pleasure.

“Sylus~” you mewled out. His fingers curl expertly, hitting that spongy spot inside you. You throw your head back into the plush of cushions, feeling yourself teeter on the brink of an orgasm.

“You’re doing so good for me, kitten.” He coos softly into your ear, feeling your walls clench around his thick digits. His other hand soothed you, gently caressing your hip as he worked you.

Before you could succumb to the tantalizing sensation, his movements halted. A frown was quick to appear on your features but the feeling of his cock sliding slowly into your folds had your dismay long forgotten, eyes rolling back into your head. “There she is~” he purrs, watching your face full of bliss.

Sylus loved the view beneath him. You, practically swimming in his shirt, with your legs folded to your chest, and his cock practically splitting you open while he pumped in and out at an agonizingly slow pace. “Faster.” You managed to whine out but Sylus shook his head.

His hips rolled slowly against yours, dragging the head of his cock slowly against your aching walls till just the tip remained inside and slowly pushing back in, savoring every inch he could while he sunk inside you. The whine that left your lips almost made his self-restraint snap. “You look so beautiful like this.” He murmured, continuing his slow pace.

The movie served as mere background noise as he savored every inch of your skin, swallowing up the whines and moans that left your mouth. His only focus was you–your pleasure, every reaction, the tremble of your body. He eased the grip your thighs, letting them fall naturally at his side “So perfect.” His torturously slow pace continued for the next hour, bringing you closer to the edge, never once letting you fall. At this point you were a sobbing mess, begging desperately for your release. “Sylus please–” You choked out once more, voice laced with need and desperation as you writhed in his hold. He hushed you gently, his voice low and soothing, “I know baby, I know. But you’re doing so good for me.” Your pleading eyes, tear-stained cheeks, and flushed appearance snapped something inside him. He couldn’t deny you any longer, not when you had been so good for him. He groaned in surrender, hips snapping quickly against your own, finally, giving you what you craved. “Give it to me.”