#if it is that then. i think you might need to actually go outside and breathe fresh oxygen

[vickymura]

PAIRING ~ softdom!nrk x shy!reader

SUMMARY ~ you and your boyfriend decide to take a step forward in the relationship by getting intimate in the shower.

GENRE ~ smut, fluff, intimate, shower sex.

WORD COUNT ~ 3.225k

ᯓ★ requested! this is kinda suuuper detailed and stretched out, so it might not be everyone's cup of tea. i dream of having this tho<3

riki stumbled back when you lunged at him at an almost inhuman speed the minute you heard his voice entering the apartment. he laughed softly at your exaggerated act of ‘loneliness’ over being left alone a couple hours, thanks to the boy’s game night he’d been outside for. he took a hold of your face and made you look up at him, squeezing your cheeks in a way that made your lips pucker.

with your face squished and your lips puckered, he couldn’t help but think about how helpless and innocent you could be. riki chuckled lowly, finding a bit of satisfaction in just how adorable you looked, before dipping his head down. he pecked your lips- once, twice, three times.. multiple times, before he let your face go with a smirk. his hand came to rest on the side of your neck instead, rubbing the skin comfortingly. “i missed you too,” he mumbled, his other hand snuck up your shirt and now on your waist.

you grinned wide, pleased by his act of indulging in your over-clinginess. in order to reach his height, you planted yourself on your tippy toes and began peppering some kisses on the expanse of his face- his forehead, nose, eyelids, cheeks, and special attention to the mole on his chin. “mm.. ‘s cold..” you lazily commented.

“i know,” he smirked, fully aware of the effect his icy hands and rings had on you. his thumb brushed against your lips, parting them ever so slightly. he took a moment to simply admire you, the love in your eyes as you gazed up at him. with one hand continuing to rest under your shirt, his other snaked around your waist and pulled you flush against him, burying his face into your neck.

this action of his earned a particularly theatrical disgusted whine from you. you scrunch your nose, picking up the faint scent of beer and sweat on him from the extreme proximity. you pressed your hands on his chest in an attempt to create some distance between each other and commented, “you need a shower.” “a shower?” he mumbled against your neck, the idea of getting naked and stepping into the water tempting. “but only if you join me, baby...” he teased, his breath on your neck sending a quick shiver through your body. he pulled his head away from you, now facing you again. one hand left your waist and came to rest on your hip instead, his thumb rubbing circles into your skin. “i mean it,” he continued, voice dropping lower.

your eyes widened at his sudden proposition, heart beginning to race from the mere thought of it. you'd seen riki naked just about as many times as fingers you have on your one hand, given that the relationship had grown physical very recently. though you couldn't deny the excitement such a scenario gave you. “um, i dunno..." riki chuckled at your flustered state, but his eyes darkened as he realized you were actually considering it. he leaned in closer to you, his face now right next to your ear. he knew how to coax you into these things by now. “think about it,” he hummed, his voice low and almost sultry. his hand started to trail down to your hip, the other squeezing your hip lightly. “just the two of us.. in the shower..” he paused, his lips now ghosting over your ear. “it’ll be perfect..”

your shoulders tensed up when he whispered right against your ear. a shaky exhale escaped your lips as an effect of growing worked up by the picture he began painting in your mind. just the two of you. in the shower. under warm water. naked. you exhaled deeply, remaining silent for a few seconds before mumbling out in a volume barely audible. “okay..”

the smirk on riki's face grew wider; he loved when you caved in so easily to his words. “yeah?” he teased, his hand on your hip now tugging you even closer, their bodies now flushed against each other. “then get moving, yeah?” he hummed, both of his hands now grabbing your hips and spinning you both around so he could push you towards the bathroom.

with a pounding heart, you let him lead the way to the bathroom. with a flick of the switch, you turned on the light and illuminated the previously dark space with a warm light that gave a certain sensuous vibe to the atmosphere. with an awkward stance, you stood in the middle of the bathroom between the sink and the shower cubicle, looking down at the bathroom tiles that were suddenly so fascinating. riki shut the door with a quiet click, turning the lock and making sure to close the blinds. he watched you, studying the slight nervousness you were displaying. watching you stand there, flushed and shy, gave riki a feeling of satisfaction and, dare he say it, a sense of pride. he loved having this effect on you, knowing you would give into anything he asked just because you were so obsessed with him.

the corner of his lips tugged into a smirk as he saw you staring so intently at the floor as a clear attempt of avoiding his gaze. he let out a chuckle, stepping closer to you slowly. “why’re you looking down?” he questioned, a hint of mischief in his tone.

“uhh..” you shakily started, embarrassed of your own mannerisms. you tucked your hair behind your ear on one side and finally broke the intense staring contest with the floor to look up at his face. “won’t it be weird if i just watched you undress?” you mumbled out hesitantly, finding your own words a pathetic evidence of your lack of experience.

a soft laugh came from riki due to your innocent question. he closed the gap between you, standing right in front of you now. his eyes darkened, looking down at you as he spoke. “i want you to watch,” he mumbled. he lifted a hand, placing his finger under your chin and raising your head so you could look at him. “i want you to watch me get naked,” he repeated, his voice now more firm as he stared into your eyes.

your eyes widened, air knocking out of your windpipe. you weren’t sure if it was you who was criminally down bad, but you internally folded that instant. “y-you-! you can't just say that!” you exclaimed quietly with the little sense remaining in your overworked brain. your face was red hot, eyes darting everywhere but back into his intense inky ones.

even with your shyness, riki found it endearing and charming- he knew exactly how to get your attention and make you all flustered because of his words. he continued to hold your chin, keeping your head tilted up to look at him. he smirked again, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. “i can, and i just did,” he teased, his other hand now coming to rest on your side. his fingers pressed into your skin through your clothes. he suddenly hooked his fingers into the end of your shirt and muttered, "up." as a signal for you to lift your arms and let him rid you of the garment. he chuckled at the bashful, hesitant way you lifted your arms, not out of mockery but rather endearment. 

he quickly pulled the material up and over your head, discarding the shirt to the floor behind you. he studied your bare torso covered by just a bra for a moment with observant eyes. while his gaze was appreciative of your form, he found that your shyness was even more attractive.

as if riki didn't have a naturally intimidating gaze already, something about the way he looked at you made you feel smaller, but also made you want him to look at you more all at once. your hands fell to your sides, the skin of your arms goosebumped from the lack of warmth. out of sudden consciousness of being the undressed one out of the two, you shyly commanded, “you do it too..." “i will, i will,” he cooed, finding your embarrassment cute. he reached behind you suddenly, his hand now on your back and the clasp of your bra. he toyed with it for a moment, pretending to struggle, just to get a rise out of you. one eyebrow was raised and a smirk was on his face, fully aware of what he was doing.

“what's taking so long..” you mumbled out and ended your sentence with a shaky exhale. you bit your lower lip, your hands itching on your sides to just take over and do it yourself, but you refrained, not wanting to make him feel bad. 

“patience, patience,” riki teased, the smirk on his face wide. he took his time, taking great pleasure in teasing and watching you squirm. despite his words, it was just a few moments more before the hook came undone. he pulled the straps down off your shoulders, letting the material fall to the floor.

you let out a small sigh of relief at the loss of its constriction, the tight material having left subtle imprints on your skin. you stood a bit awkwardly again, realizing that you were completely topless whereas he was fully dressed. with a shy tug on the material of his shirt you repeated, “you do it too, ki..”

he watched your face as you fidgeted, clearly embarrassed for being exposed while he was fully clothed. he chuckled and grabbed the end of his shirt, beginning to pull it up over his head. “you’re so shy,” he noted, lifting the shirt off and discarding it on the floor with the rest of your clothes. he placed his hands on your hips now, still completely towering over you.

"i'm not.." you weakly defended. your poor bottom lip might have grown bruised by the intensity you bit down on it, trying not to gawk at how your boyfriend’s frequent visits to the gym had begun to pay off. the flawless build of his torso, ever so decorated by moles, your hands fisted the material of your pants to stop yourself from touching, nay, worshipping every inch of his skin.

riki’s smirk returned as he watched you stare intently at his body, clearly enjoying himself and the knowledge of how you were affected just by seeing him. he noticed your hands moving anxiously, an obvious indication of what you wanted to do but refrained from. he reached out for both of your hands and brought them to his chest, placing them against his skin for you to feel. “you are, baby.” he chuckled. “but it’s adorable.”

your breath hitched when he willingly guided your hands to the smooth skin of your chest. you swore your sense of touch heightened that very second, and you could feel every fibre of his skin against your nerves. the insides of your tummy began to feel all funny. your gaze was locked onto your hands on his chest, but you could almost feel riki’s eyes burning holes into your face.

riki continued to watch the expressions on your face change as you touched his bare chest, your fingers tracing over the muscles there mindlessly. he let you explore and felt your fingers against his skin, a low hum of approval rumbling through his chest. he suddenly pulled you closer, your bare chest now pressed against his in such a way that had him groaning. he lifted his own hand, gently grabbing your chin and turning your head to face him. “eyes on me, yeah?” he whispered.

you were never a believer of hypnosis, dubbing it as downright quackery. but in that moment, something about the warmth of his bare skin against your fingertips, his eyes boring into yours, his voice you’d come to dearly cherish had you totally tranced. you could feel your cheeks burn, but it was pleasant. almost addictive. “yeah..” you whispered back, without contemplation.

he hummed in acknowledgement, letting go of your chin to take a hold of your torso right by your bare ribs, dragging them all the way down to your hips in a motion too slow to not be considered sensuous. his thumbs hooked on either side of the waistband as he started to tug your sweatpants down your legs, leaving you just in your panties. he knelt down as he brought them to your ankles, helping you step out of the material.

he stayed there for a few seconds, admiring the view of your nearly naked form and hooked his finger into the elastic of your underwear as a silent plea for your consent. at your shy nod, he began pulling down the skimpy lace material, his eyes never leaving yours for even a second. he tossed them to the other pile of the clothes, standing to his six feet again. “pretty,” he mumbled, taking the sight of you in. his eyes continued to roam as he looked at your bare skin and admired every curve, plain and imperfection in your skin. “so, so pretty...” he repeated, his hands now resting on either side of your waist again.

you took in his compliments with a soft smile. but, something about the way he looked at you, with such utter and genuine admiration, rid you of not only your clothes but your feelings of embarrassment and shame. it was only a momentary freedom when you took notice of his bottoms and whined quietly, “your turn..”

he let out a soft chuckle, the deepness of it ringing in your flushed ears. he kept his eyes on you as he unzipped the pants and pushed them down along with his boxers, stepping out of the clothing and leaving them in a pile on the floor. before giving you a chance to take his form in, he quickly stepped closer to you and hooked his hands, one below your knees and one below your waist, lifting you up with ease.

your baffled expressions earned riki's soft laughter as he led you into the glass-covered shower, gently placing you down on the cold tiles grounding it. the shower was cramped, but it would be fine for the two of you— it would even be convenient for what he had planned. you scoffed and snapped out of your shock when he signalled you to turn on the water. with practiced movements, you turned around and fiddled with the faucet, welcoming the water in a warm shower.

he felt the warmth hit his skin as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling your body close so your back was flush against his front. the water now drizzled down the both of you, dampening your skin and hair gradually. you’d recognized your tendencies of taking scorching hot showers, and was aware of riki’s preference of cool ones. this prompted you to softly ask, “is it too hot?”

his chin rested on your shoulder as he replied, enjoying the feeling of your body pressed against his. “no, it’s fine,” he mumbled right into your ear. “i like it.” he moved his hips against you slightly as he spoke, his hands now roaming over your stomach and sides leisurely. he hummed appreciatively as he felt your skin, enjoying the feeling of his hands on your body.

once he was satisfied with how drenched the two of you'd gotten, riki spun you around to make you directly him. he snaked his arm around the slipper skin of your waist, pulling your front flush against him. he groaned softly out of the pleasure of feeling your tits pressed against his chest, ducking his head down to begin peppering kisses on your neck. "so soft..." he whispered, just loud enough for his voice to be audible over the spray of the water.

you hummed quietly, tilting your head up to give him more expanse of your neck for him to cover with his affection. he nipped and kissed the skin of your neck, all the way till your collarbones just enough to leave faint love marks. he blatantly began grinding his hips against yours in such a way that made his pink tip rub right against your folds. you whimpered, hands immediately flunging for his shoulders.

you didn’t bother stopping or questioning him, turning into nothing short of a whimpering mess and clenching everytime his tip would brush by your clit. your fingers dug into his shoulders when you began slightly bucking your hips back, earning a few deep curses from him. “fuck..” he grunted out right against your ear, his hands now groping your ass and pulling you closer. “baby..” riki deeply started, pressing his forehead adorned by wet strands of his overgrown bangs on yours. “can i…?”

you nodded, almost frantically, a small whimper you were about to exhale turning into a mewl of pleasure when he slowly slid himself into you, the warm water cascading over acting as a lubricant. your nails dug into his muscular shoulders to the point where they left imprints, your soft moans echoing through the foggy glasses.

he cursed and groaned near your ear, slowly beginning to thrust his erection in a lazy, slow pace. he let go of your ass to wrap his hands around your wrists, taking them off his shoulders and pinning them on the wall behind you by interlocking your fingers with his. “you’re so good for me, baby..” he whispered out.

he thrusted into you so, so slowly, but oh, so deeply. each moan he earned from you was like a reward, assurance that he was making you feel so good. your eyes rolled back to your skull when you felt his tip nudge against your g-spot, your fingers around his tightening. you squeezed yourself around him in such a way that made him drop to the belief that he wouldn’t last very long.

he let go of one of your hands, bringing it down to your pussy. he began rubbing his thumb into your clit, eliciting a particularly loud and high-pitched moan that surprised riki and you alike. he let out a small chuckle between his own grunts, now beginning to pound into you at a faster yet just as sensual pace, rubbing against your clit to further stimulate you. you whimpered, his touches and thrusts making your knees go weak. “oh, riki.. i-if you keep- huff doing that.. i-i’m gonna..” you whispered out between mewls. he began rubbing your clit harder, his cock throbbing inside you due to his own approaching orgasm. 

“fuck- me too... look at me, baby..” he whispered, ushering you to hold eye contact as his thrusts grew sloppy and just a little faster. you clenched around him uncontrollably, moaning out his name like a mantra. “cu-.. cum with me..” riki grunted, slamming his cock balls-deep into you and filling your womb with his warm seed.

with a shaky cry of pleasure you too came onto his length, your release forming rings of substances around it. you panted and caught your breath, and riki took the sight of your parted lips as an opportunity to capture them into a kiss, his still erect cock remaining inside you.

the kiss was soft and tender, but when riki pulled away, he flashed a smirk that meant but one thing.

he definitely wasn’t done with you just yet.

cool people reblog and comment😜😜😜

[prael]

Day 5: Comfort

Newjeans Hanni x male reader smut

words: 9,650 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

Spotting a face in a crowd is like watching lightning. There's a moment that captivates you and then it disappears. You're not even sure where to look for it. It happens in an instant, but when that instant is over, you're not sure if it ever really happened at all.

That is life with Hanni.

She might well be sitting here now, on your couch, with her knees pressed against her chest and a mug of hot cocoa in her hands, but in another moment she will be gone and you will be alone again. The warmth of her body will linger on the cushions beside you. You will press your hand into it, but it will fade. And then there will only be her image in your mind and the memory of her voice.

She is always so busy, and you are always waiting.

"I need a break," she says, and this time, her voice is not in the past, but in the present.

You blink, pulled from your thoughts, and look up at her. She's watching you, her dark eyes soft. She's smiling. You don't know how long you've been staring into space. "Sorry," you say, "what?"

Hanni laughs softly, reaching out and taking your hand. Her skin is soft, unblemished, and her nails manicured. Her fingers are slim and dainty, but there's a surprising strength in them. "I said I need a break," she says, and then she squeezes your hand. "So let's go somewhere."

You don't have to think about it. "Where do you want to go?"

"I don't know," Hanni says, and her smile grows wider. "Anywhere."

Anywhere.

-

The thing about the coast, the beach, the sea, is that it really goes well with sunshine and especially poorly with the winter. There is something about the ocean and the beach in the winter that is a bit depressing, and yet at the same time, that makes it feel more comfortable, more like you can imagine it as your own. You can walk on the beach without the crowds of summer. The waves are high, the water is cold, the sand is wet and hard, and the wind is sharp and biting, but there's a sense of adventure to it.

"It just doesn't seem to end," Hanni is explaining as you walk side-by-side, wrapped in padded coats and gloves, with thick hats and boots, "It just never seems to stop. It just keeps going. It's the same thing every single day. I wake up. I go to work. I do what I'm supposed to do. I go home. I sleep. I do it again the next day."

You nod, though you can't even pretend to understand it.

"Do you want to know what the worst part is?" she asks.

You nod again. "Of course," you say.

"The worst part is that I'm not even unhappy," Hanni says, looking at you with a smile that bears mixed emotions, "I love it. I just want something more."

"I think that's normal," you say. "It's like how when you finish a book, or a movie, or a TV series, you're sad that it's over, but you're happy that you finished it, and then you start thinking about what to watch next, or what to read next. It's like that."

You wonder if that makes sense.

Hanni nods slowly, and thoughtfully, as though she's taking the time to consider your words. "Yeah," she agrees, and then she laughs, "but sometimes I don't know if I want to finish the book. Sometimes I just want to skip to the end, so I can see what happens, you know?"

You don't. Maybe it's because life is much simpler outside of the spotlight. You don't have to wonder what happens next. What happens next is the same as what always happens. Work. Salary. Bills. Responsibility. It's the same thing, over and over again.

Actually, the only days you get to break the mould, are the days that Hanni is there with you. That is what happens next.

You don't tell her that. You don't think she would be all that impressed with your answer, given what she had said. So you don't say anything at all.

-

Vacationing in temperatures nearing freezing is hard, and the later it gets, the harder it becomes. Yet, the sky is so clear that the stars shine like a million little diamonds, and the moon hangs low and fat in the sky, casting a pale silver light over everything. In that, there's unmatched beauty. On this rooftop cafe, you can almost see the universe in full.

It took a little convincing for the owner downstairs to even open the roof. He called you a few variations of insane for not wanting to cosy up inside the warmth of the cafe. But you, and Hanni, are nothing if not determined. So here you are, on the roof, on the balcony, looking at the sky, at the stars, and the moon. It's a beautiful night, and there's no better place to be on earth.

"I like this," Hanni says, leaning into your side. "You're always good at coming up with ideas."

"I don't know if this is really an idea," you say with a laugh. "It's just sitting on a roof."

"Yeah, but that's the best part. It's just sitting on a roof." Hanni looks at you, her dark eyes glittering in the moonlight. "It's not fancy. It's not expensive. It's just us, on a roof."

"Okay, that's a fair point," you say, and then you laugh again.

You look out over the city, at the twinkling lights, at the stars, at the moon. You take a deep breath of cool air and let it fill your lungs.

"Hey," Hanni says, "I have a question."

You glance back at her. "Shoot."

"Why are we friends?" she asks.

"Wow, deep question," you joke, trying to lighten the mood, but Hanni doesn't laugh. "Um," you say, "Well, I mean, we grew up together, didn't we?"

"Yeah, but we're not kids anymore," she says. "We're adults now. We have lives. Jobs. Responsibilities. I'm an idol and I disappear for months on end. And when I come back, I always just drop in on you and expect you to be there for me, and you are. Every time. Why is that?"

"I don't know," you admit. "I guess I just... I just like you. I always have."

"You don't get sick of me?"

You shrug. "Sometimes, when you do that thing where you hum real loud, I want to strangle you."

It brings about a shared laugh. That right there; if you capture that moment and bottle it, you would present it to her as the reason. Because no matter how long she's gone, and no matter what happens, when she's here and you are laughing together, it feels like home. You don't need to be anywhere or do anything in particular. It's enough just to be.

Hanni shuffles closer, leaning further into your side. "You're my best friend, you know that?"

You nod, your heart swelling. "Yeah," you say, your voice quiet, "I know."

-

You've always been a sucker for romance, but you also recognise that the real world doesn't work that way. Romance is the domain of fiction, of books, of movies, of the stage, of the screen. In the real world, things are messy and complicated and sometimes they don't work out. And that's okay. It's not a tragedy. It's not the end of the world. It's just the way things are.

It's why you can spend time with a girl who's beautiful and talented and smart and funny, without getting caught up in the fantasy that she's going to fall in love with you and sweep you off your feet and carry you into the sunset, or whatever. You've seen enough romantic comedies to know how those stories go, and you know how they end. In the real world, the best you can hope for is friendship, and even that is something to be grateful for. Especially when it's Hanni.

"Which book is that?" Hanni asks as she steps out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel and followed by a plume of steam. Her hair hangs wet and heavy around her shoulders, dripping onto the floor. The hotel room is nice, but it's nothing too fancy. You're sure Hanni is used to better.

You look at her for a moment, then close the book in your lap. It's in these pages, that those romance stories play out, or so you tell yourself. "It's nothing," you say. "Just some trashy novel."

She sits on the edge of the bed, her eyes on you. "Is it any good?" she asks. You're not sure if she's interested or just making conversation, but you answer anyway.

"I mean, it's not great literature or anything," you say, "but it's entertaining enough."

"I wouldn't have taken you for the type of person to read romance. I remember you being obsessed with... um... Who was that one author? Michael Connely? It was all detectives and crime."

"Guilty pleasure, I guess."

"What's it about?" Hanni asks. "The book."

You glance down at the cover, which shows a young woman in a flowing dress standing on a cliff, overlooking the sea. The title is in a fancy script, and the author's name is printed beneath it. You shrug. "It's about a girl who's an artist, and she meets this guy, and they have this whirlwind romance."

"And then they get married and have kids and live happily ever after?"

You laugh softly. "No, not quite," you say. "They have a lot of sex, but then they fight all the time and it's messy and dramatic."

"Then what?"

"I don't know, I haven't finished it yet."

"I bet they get back together," she says. "That's always how these things end, right? They have a big fight and then they get back together and it's all sunshine and rainbows."

"I don't know," you say. "Maybe. Probably. It's fiction."

Hanni laughs, shaking her head. "You're so cynical."

"I'm not cynical," you protest. "I'm just realistic."

"Right, right, of course." She stands, moving to the bag of clothes at the foot of the bed, and begins to rummage through it. She pulls out a pair of shorts and a top. "I'm going to get dressed," she says, and then she disappears into the bathroom again, closing the door behind her.

When she emerges, she's wearing a pair of tight black shorts that hug her hips and a white tank top that clings to her curves. Her hair is still damp, and it falls around her shoulders in dark waves. She looks good, and you can't help but admire her. She's beautiful.

You can tell she's aware of the attention, but she ignores it, instead flopping onto the bed beside you and letting out a sigh. "What are we going to do tomorrow?" she asks.

"I was thinking we could just drive up the coast," you suggest. "Maybe stop off in some of the little towns along the way, and see if there's anything interesting."

"Sounds good," she says, and then she rolls onto her side, her head propped up on her hand, looking at you. "You know, you're the first person I thought of when I said I needed a break."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I don't know why, but I just knew that if I could get away with anyone, it would be you."

"Thanks," you say. You're not sure how to respond to that, but it makes you feel warm inside. "I'm glad I could help."

-

The small towns are wholly uninteresting, but Hanni seems to find something to enjoy in every one of them. There is something about seeing the world through her eyes that makes even the most mundane things seem magical. A little store selling handmade trinkets and cheap souvenirs becomes a treasure trove of hidden gems. An old man playing guitar in the park becomes a musician worth listening to. An old, crumbling building becomes a palace of mystery and intrigue. The world comes alive when Hanni is around, and you can't help but be swept up in it.

You're on the last leg now, and you agreed to drive her home. It's late in the afternoon, the sun is low in the sky, and the horizon is a watercolour painting of pinks, oranges, and purples. It's a beautiful sight, and it makes you think of the painting that Hanni bought earlier. You're not sure what she saw in it, but she seemed to love it, and that's all that matters. She's asleep beside you, her head resting against the window, her breathing slow and steady. She's exhausted, and you don't blame her. She's been going non-stop for the past few days, and you're glad that she finally has a chance to rest.

You pull up outside her place and gently shake her awake. She stirs and blinks up at you, her eyes still heavy with sleep, and she smiles. "Hey," she murmurs, and her voice is soft and husky.

"Hey," you say. "We're here. You're home."

Hanni sits up, rubbing her eyes and stretching. "Already?" she asks. "I didn't mean to sleep the whole way."

"It's okay," you assure her. "Part of taking a break is getting some rest."

She nods, but she doesn't look happy. "I know, but I feel like I missed out on something." She looks at you. "Thank you for driving me home. I'm sorry for being such a pain in the ass."

"It's okay," you assure her. "You're always a pain in the ass. I'm used to it by now."

She laughs, but there's a tinge of sadness to it. "Yeah," she says, and then she glances away. Her voice is soft and hesitant. "Are you going to come inside?"

"I can help you with your bag."

"I was thinking more than just that." Her eyes meet yours. "Stay for a bit. I don't want to say goodbye just yet."

"I don't want to intrude," you tell her, knowing that there are four other girls in her place and it's their place as much as it is Hanni's. "Besides, it's getting late."

She reaches over and takes your hand, holding it tightly. "Please."

"Okay," you say, and you can't help but smile at her. "I'll stay for a bit."

It's the first time you've seen the inside of this place, but it's a lot nicer than your little apartment. It's spacious and modern, with a large kitchen and a living room that opens onto a balcony with a view of the city. It's the sort of place you would never be able to afford, but Hanni seems to fit in here perfectly.

There's a girl sprawled out on the couch, eyes closed, earbuds in her ears. You recognize her, from posters and interviews and magazine covers, and music videos. Her name is Minji, and she's got long, dark hair that falls in waves down her back. She's tall and pretty, with a slim build and a face that's both elegant and expressive. She looks like a model, but she's also an idol, a singer, and a dancer. It's a little intimidating.

"Better not wake her," Hanni says. "She gets cranky when she's tired."

You nod. "Right."

"Come on, let's go to my room. We can talk there."

You follow her down a hallway and into a bedroom that's big and bright, with a view of the city. It's tastefully decorated, with a bed that's bigger than yours, a dresser that's bigger than yours, and a desk that's bigger than yours. Everything is bigger here, and you can't help but feel a little out of place.

"I like it in here," you say. "It's nice."

"Thanks," she says, dropping a bag in the corner and you follow her by placing the two you were carrying.

There's a faint sound coming through the wall. Music that you can't quite make out, but it sounds upbeat and peppy. You can hear the bass thumping, and the occasional high-pitched voice singing along.

"That's Dani," Hanni says, sitting on the edge of the bed. "She's always playing music. It drives Minji nuts."

You laugh, leaning against the dresser. "It's kind of cute."

"Yeah, it is. She's a sweetheart." Hanni leans back on her hands, looking at you. "I can't believe this is the first time you've seen where I live."

"It's a nice place," you say. "I'm sure you're comfortable here."

"It's not bad." She shrugs. "It's not really mine, though. I mean, it is, but it's also not. You know what I mean?"

You don't, but you nod anyway.

Hanni sighs, running a hand through her hair. "You should visit more," Hanni says while taking off her jacket, reducing her clothing back down to just that tight white tank top now that she's back in the warmth of her room.

You can't help but look at her, admiring the way her body moves, the way her skin glows in the light. You can't help but want to touch her, to feel her warmth. "I don't know," you say. "I would be kind of out of place."

"You wouldn't be," she says, and her voice is firm. "I miss you."

"I miss you too," you say, and it's true. You miss her all the time, even when she's right here in front of you. You miss her smile, her laugh, her scent.

She looks up at you, her eyes wide and searching. "Do you think about me when I'm gone?" she asks.

"Of course," you say, and you can't help but smile. "All the time."

She smiles, and it's like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. "Good." She stands, walking over to you, and you can smell her shampoo, her perfume, her skin. She reaches out, touching your face, running her fingers over your cheek. "I'm glad," she whispers, and then she leans in and presses her lips to yours.

It's a gentle kiss, soft and sweet, and it lingers for a moment before she pulls away. You're frozen in this moment, unable to think, unable to speak, unable to breathe. You're not sure what just happened, or why it happened, or what it means, or what you should do next.

"I'm sorry," she says, stepping back. "I shouldn't have done that."

"It's okay," you say, and it is. It truly is. You don't know why, but it is. You want to kiss her again, to hold her close, to feel her warmth.

"I just... I don't know," she says. "I've been thinking about it for a while, and I just... I don't know."

"It's okay," you say again, and you reach out and take her hand, holding it tight. You look into her eyes. "I'm glad you did."

She looks up at you, and her eyes are wide and searching. "Really?"

"Really." You squeeze her hand. "I'm glad."

"Good," she whispers, and then she leans in again and kisses you. This time, you kiss her back. You wrap your arms around her, pulling her close, holding her tight. You can feel her heart beating against your chest, and it's a steady, reassuring rhythm. She tastes of strawberry lip gloss and you can't get enough of it.

You've known Hanni for years, and you've been friends for years, and you've been best friends for years. But it's never been like this. It's never been this close, this intimate, this real. You've never been able to touch her like this, to kiss her like this, to hold her like this. And it feels amazing.

You're not sure how long you stand there, kissing, holding each other, but eventually you break apart and look at each other, smiling.

"What are we doing?" she asks, her voice low and husky.

"I don't know," you admit. "But I like it."

"Me too." She smiles, and it's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. "Can I tell you something? It's been on my mind for two days now."

You nod, and she takes a deep breath before continuing.

"I've been thinking about you a lot lately," she says. "A lot. I mean, I've always thought about you, but now it's different. Now it's like I can't stop thinking about you. Well, I can, but not for long."

She's stumbling over her words, and you can't help but find it cute. You reach up and brush a strand of hair out of her face, and she smiles at you.

"I don't know what it means," she says. "I'm not sure if I want it to mean anything. I'm not sure if I'm ready for it to mean anything. I'm not sure if I'm even ready to think about what it might mean." She laughs, and it's a nervous laugh, and you can tell she's struggling to find the right words. "I guess I'm just saying that I'm not sure what I want, but I know that I want to be with you. And I'm not sure if that makes any sense, but it's how I feel."

"It makes perfect sense," you say, and you mean it. You know exactly what she means. You've felt the same way.

"I'm scared," she says. "This feeling is new. It's exciting. But it's scary, too. I'm not sure what to do. I don't want to ruin our friendship. But at the same time, I want more. I want to be with you. And I don't know how to do that."

"It's okay," you tell her. "We'll figure it out together."

She smiles, and it's a shy smile, but it's genuine. "So you're not going to run away?" she asks.

"No," you say. "No, I'm not."

"Good," she says. "Because I don't think I could handle that."

You laugh, and she laughs with you, and it's the most natural thing in the world. You can feel the tension between you start to ease, and you relax into each other, holding each other close. You kiss her again, and this time it's a little less hesitant, a little less unsure. You kiss her, and you let yourself fall into her, and you let yourself forget about everything else, and you let yourself just enjoy the moment. You kiss her, and you feel her arms wrap around you, and you feel her body press against yours, and you feel her warmth, and her softness, and her strength. You kiss her, and you feel your heart race, and you feel your blood rush, and you feel your skin flush, and you feel your head spin.

And when you finally break away, breathless and dizzy, she's looking at you with a mixture of wonder and desire and something else that you can't quite put your finger on. But it's a good look. It's a look that makes you feel happy, and excited, and scared, and alive.

"So what now?" you ask.

"I don't know," she says. "I've never done this before."

"Neither have I," you admit.

"Well, uh..." she trails off, looking away. "I guess we can just keep doing what we're doing, but like, over there." She points to her bed, and you can't help but chuckle.

"I like that idea," you say, before pulling off your jacket.

"Woah, what are you—?"

"It's just my jacket, I'm not..."

You both laugh and Hanni does that thing where she covers her face with her palms and shakes her head.

"Okay, I'm an idiot," she says, before throwing herself backwards onto her bed.

You approach her, but you're still nervous. You place a knee on the bed, move closer to her, and lean over her. She looks up at you, and her eyes are wide and bright, and full of emotion. You lean down and kiss her, and this time, there's no hesitation, no fear, no doubt. This time, it's a kiss of passion.

You sink into her as the kiss deepens, and you feel her hands on your back, pulling you closer, pressing you against her. You feel her tongue slide against yours, and then you taste her mouth, and it's a taste that you want more of. You taste her, and you smell her, and you feel her.

All you can do is what comes naturally, so next you're moving your hand from the bed and onto her hip, and slowly moving it along her waist, sliding it under her top. Her body tenses slightly as the palm of your hand touches her soft, warm skin.

"Are you okay?" you ask between kisses.

"Yes," she says, and the look in her eyes tells you the same. "Don't stop."

So you don't. You keep kissing her, touching her and exploring her. Your hand moves up her side, feeling the curve of her waist, and the rise of her ribcage. You brush the edge of her bra and hesitate, but then her hand reaches for yours and guides it under the fabric. You feel her breast against your palm, soft and warm and firm, and you feel her nipple, hard and erect, and you feel her tremble beneath you.

"You're beautiful," you whisper to her.

She blushes and smiles before you slip your tongue against hers again.

You never allowed yourself to appreciate Hanni for her beauty. It's not like you were blind to it. It's just that you didn't let yourself see it. Maybe deep down you knew that if you did, you wouldn't be able to look at her as just a friend anymore. So you suppressed that part of yourself. But now, with her lying here beneath you, you can't help but appreciate not only how pretty she is, but just how hot her body is, especially as your hands explore her. She's toned, but soft, and you can't get enough of her.

Her own hands are busy, too. They're running up and down your back, and then they're slipping under your shirt, and you can feel her nails scratching lightly against your skin.

"Can we take off our tops?" she asks suddenly, breaking the kiss. The question is kind of awkward, you both feel this, there's this shared twinge of embarrassment that you can sense in each other. It's not romantic, it's not sexy, it's just a bit silly.

"Sure," you say, and you sit up and pull your shirt over your head. You look down at her and suddenly feel so exposed, even if she is the one in tight shorts and her legs on either side of your hips, you're the one that's topless.

Hanni sits up too, and pulls her top off, revealing her light blue bra. She's moving a little erratic as she reaches behind her back, so much so that she fumbles the clasp twice before unfastening it. She lets the straps slide down her arms and throws it aside, quickly crossing her arms over her chest. Her face is a deep red.

She's embarrassed. You've never seen her like this before. You've seen her nervous, shy, even scared, but never embarrassed. And it's adorable. You're sitting just a few inches from each other, yet she's still looking down and to the side.

"Hey," you whisper, and then she looks at you. "You're beautiful."

She smiles and uncrosses her arms, and your eyes move down from her face to her breasts. You've seen her in a bra, but not like this. Never this close, never bare, never with the intention of touching them.

So, you do. You place your hand on one of her tits, and then she's leaning into you and you're kissing again. She fits so perfectly into your hand, and you can't resist gently massaging it. Instinct takes over. You're not thinking anymore, you're just doing what feels right. So you break the kiss and move your head down to her other breast. You start kissing around her nipple, and then you take it in your mouth, and you hear her moan. It's a sound that sends shivers down your spine, and then she's tangling her fingers in your hair, pressing your face into her chest.

You spend some time like this, alternating between her two breasts, licking, sucking, and nibbling on her nipples. It's a little clumsy, and you don't really know what you're doing, so you just follow what her soft little moans tell you. You love the feel of her tits against your face, the taste of her skin, the sound of her breathing.

And then she's pulling you back up and kissing you, and you're lost in the sensation of her lips on yours, her tongue on yours, her body against yours. You can feel her heart beating, and it's beating fast.

"You're so hot," you whisper, and she smiles and blushes.

"So are you," she says, and then she's pushing you down onto the bed, rolling on top of you. She kisses you again, and then she's kissing your neck, your collarbone, your chest. She's kissing her way down your body, and you're not sure what to do, so you just lie there and let her explore. You become more aware of your own body, and the sensation of her wet kisses against your skin. You become more aware of the discomfort between your legs. It's only now, in this moment of respite from kissing her lips and her tits, that you realise she must have felt it. The whole time. Since you started kissing her, and you laid yourself against her. She must have felt the bulge in your pants pressing against her crotch. You're mortified. You can't even look at her, you just stare up at the ceiling with an embarrassed smile on your face.

"Hey," she whispers, and you look down at her. She's kneeling between your legs, looking up at you. Her eyes are wide and bright, and she has a big goofy grin on her face. She looks so cute. "Did I do this?"

She's not looking at you. You follow her gaze down to the bulge in your pants.

"Uhhh..." you're not sure what to say. "Yes. Probably. I think so. I'm sorry."

She giggles, a mischievous grin forming on her lips. "It's okay," she says. "It's nice. I, uh, I like it."

You laugh nervously, and she laughs with you, and then she's unbuttoning your pants, and you're not sure what's happening. You feel like you should say something, but you can't think of anything, so you just lie there and let her do it. You lift your hips so she can pull down your jeans and underwear in one motion. Although you can't bring yourself to look down, the feeling of being exposed is overwhelming. You stare at the white paint on the ceiling as if it's the most interesting thing in the world.

"I've never done this before," she says. "I mean, I've seen one before. On TV, or in a movie, or something. But I've never... I don't really know what to do."

"It's okay," you say, your voice shaky, and you almost don't recognise it. "You don't have to—" Your breath hitches in your throat as you feel her fingers touch you.

"I want to," she whispers, and then she's gripping your shaft in her hand, and you can feel her fingers wrapping around it.

You're hard, and she's touching you, and it feels incredible. It feels incredible and wrong and exciting and scary and confusing and perfect and you can't think straight.

"Is this okay?" she asks, and her voice is soft and hesitant.

"Yes," you reply, and you can't keep the desire out of your voice.

She starts to stroke you slowly, and you can feel her fingers moving up and down your length, and it feels so good. Her touch is so delicate, so gentle, so loving, so careful, and you can't get enough of it.

You can't help but look down at her now. She's staring at you with a mixture of fascination and desire, and you can see the way her eyes move as she takes in every inch of you. That's Hanni, right there, and you can't believe that she's doing this to you.

"I've never seen one this close before," she whispers, and then she's leaning in, and you feel her breath on you. "I didn't realise it would be so warm. Or that it would feel so... alive."

She's still holding you, and you're still looking at her, and then she's looking up at you, and your eyes meet. Her expression is a mix of curiosity and lust. It's an expression that sends a shiver down your spine.

She kisses the tip. It's a gentle kiss, and it sends a jolt of pleasure through you. She looks up at you again, and there's a smile on her lips.

"Do you like that?"

"Yes," you breathe, and you're surprised by the huskiness in your voice.

"Good." She kisses you again, and then she's running her tongue over the tip. "It tastes funny," Hanni laughs gently and smiles. "I don't know if I like it yet, but I think I do."

She licks you again, and then she's kissing you, and then she's licking you, and then suddenly she's doing both. Her lips part in one of her kisses and she takes the head into her mouth so her tongue can work uninterrupted. She's licking around the head, and then she's taking you deeper, and you can feel her tongue exploring your shaft. It's incredible. It's unlike anything you've ever felt before. You've seen this before, on screen, or in magazines, or whatever, but nothing could have prepared you for the sensation of having her mouth around you.

"Oh god," you groan. "Hanni..."

It's all encouragement for her. A signal to her unsure mind that yes, this is exactly what you want and it feels as good as anything that you could have imagined. You're already sensitive, so every little movement of her tongue sends a shockwave of pleasure through you. You can't keep your eyes off her, watching her lips slide down your shaft, her tongue flicking at the head, her cheeks hollowing as she sucks you, her eyes looking up at you, checking that what she's doing is right.

She's breathing heavily from her nose, and the hot hair is kissing your skin. You can't believe you're seeing her like this, that this is the girl you grew up with.

"Hanni..."

She doesn't respond. She's too focused on the task at hand, on making you feel good. And she's doing a good job of it. A very good job of it.

"Hanni..."

Her eyes flick up to meet yours, and she stops moving her head. "Is something wrong?" she asks, her voice muffled by your cock. She pulls her head back, letting you slip out of her mouth, and a string of saliva connects the tip to her lower lip.

"No, no, no," you say quickly, "nothing's wrong. I just... I don't think I'm going to last much longer." You're embarrassed. You've never been in a situation like this before, and you're not sure what to expect, or what you're supposed to do. But you know that you're close to cumming, and you don't want to do it in her mouth.

"That's okay, just don't let the other girls hear us," she says, and then she's smiling at you, and then she's taking you in her mouth again, and then she's moving her head up and down, and then you're watching her cheeks hollow as she sucks you. Tongue running patterns over the underside of your length, you can't take much more.

"Oh god, Hanni, I'm going to—"

She doesn't stop. She doesn't slow down. She doesn't even flinch. She just keeps going, and you can't hold back any longer. You can feel the orgasm building inside you, and you can't stop it, and you don't want to, and you're not sure if you should, and you're not sure what to do, and—

You cum, and it's the most intense orgasm of your life. You can't help but cry out in pleasure, and you feel your hips buck involuntarily, and you feel her tongue continue to lap at the head as your cum spills out of her mouth. She doesn't pull back, she doesn't stop, she doesn't do anything to stop you from cumming in her mouth, she just keeps going, and you can feel her swallowing some of it. Some pools on your skin.

"Oh god," you say, and your voice is a whimper, and you're still trembling with pleasure.

Hanni pulls away and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. She looks up at you, and there's a mischievous grin on her face.

"Wow," she says, and then she's giggling. "I wasn't expecting that!"

"Are you okay?" you ask, and your voice is shaky.

"I'm good." She smiles and crawls up so she can rest her head on your shoulder, half draping her body over yours, your bare skin touching. She kisses your neck, her breath tickles your skin. You put an arm around her, holding her close. "I didn't know that would be so fun. Can I do it again?"

"Not right now," you say through strained breath. "Maybe later."

"Okay." She's looking up at you, and she has that same goofy grin on her face. "Was that okay? I've never done it before."

"It was more than okay," you say, and you can hear the awe in your own voice. "That was incredible."

"Really?" She sounds pleased with herself. "I wasn't sure what I was doing."

"It was perfect," you say, and then you kiss her forehead, and then you kiss her lips, and then you're lost in the sensation of her body pressed against yours. You can't believe that you're here, that you're doing this, that you're with her.

"I'm glad," she murmurs, and then she's looking at you again. "So, what now?"

"Can I try?" you ask. "With you, I mean. Can I... use my mouth on you?"

"You don't have to," she says quickly, but then her voice trails off. She seems unsure.

"I want to," you say. "If you want me to."

Her smile is wide and her eyes are bright. "I do," she says. She kisses you on the lips, and then she's rolling onto her back.

You lean over her, and your hands are shaking, and your heart is racing, and you're not sure what to do, or where to start, or if you're going to be any good at this, but you want to try. You want to make her feel as good as she made you feel. You want to taste her, to explore her with your tongue, to learn what makes her moan, what makes her gasp, what makes her squirm. You want to make her feel as good as you do.

So you start where you began earlier, at her chest, and you spend some time just appreciating them. Kissing them. Running your tongue over her nipples. Squeezing. Massaging. Listening to her breathing change.

"I love these," you mutter. "They're beautiful. You're beautiful."

Hanni doesn't respond with much more than a pleasured hum, but she doesn't need to. You can tell she's enjoying this, enjoying the attention. And it's a good thing too, because you have no intention of stopping. Not until she tells you to, at least. You keep kissing and licking and sucking her nipples, and you can feel her arching her back, pressing herself into your mouth, and you can hear her breath growing heavier, and her heart races.

Hanni gives a deep, full-bodied moan, the loudest she has so far. You take it as a signal to descend, and you trail kisses over her stomach, which makes her giggle and squirm. You feel the heat radiating off her body. Her scent is strong—intoxicatingly so.

When you reach the waistband of her tight black shorts, you pause for a moment, and then you hook your fingers under the elastic and pull them down. You're not even sure what to expect underneath, but whatever you had in your mind, the reality is so much better. Her black panties are lacy, and they hug her body perfectly, accentuating every curve, every dip, every contour. They're so sexy, so beautiful, that you can't help but stare. Your mouth hangs open and you can feel your dick stirring back to life already. You can't believe that you're here, that you're seeing her like this.

You take time to admire her. Her thighs and her hips and the delicate apex underneath the wet panties. Then you look up her body, taking in the way her wide hips give way to the curve of her waist, the way her breasts rise and fall with each breath, the way her hair frames her face, the way her eyes shine in the dim light, and they stare at you, accompanying her smile.

"What are you thinking?" she asks, and her voice is barely a whisper. "I know that face. You always have that look on your face when you're thinking about something."

"You're the most beautiful girl in the world," you say, and you mean it, and you're not sure why you've never told her before.

Her smile widens and she laughs, covering her face. "You're so cheesy," she says, but you can tell that she likes it, that she appreciates it, that she loves it.

"Can't help it," you say, and then you lean down and kiss her stomach again, the muscles tense under your lips, and her breath catches. You kiss your way down to the edge of her panties, and then you pause.

"Is this okay?" you ask, and you're not sure why, but you feel like you need her permission, even having come this far.

"More than okay," she replies, and her voice is soft and breathy, and full of desire.

You smile, and then you kiss the edge of her panties again, and then you start to pull them down. You can feel the fabric stick to her skin as you peel them off her body, revealing her pussy. The sight of it takes your breath away, and you can't help but stare. It's beautiful, of course, but it's also more than that. It's Hanni. It's the most intimate part of her body, the most vulnerable, the most sensitive, the most private, and it's right there in front of you, and she's permitting you to touch it, to taste it, to explore it. She trusts you.

You place your palms on her thighs and spread her legs. You move your head between them and you plant the most delicate of kisses on her wet skin. Her body twitches. Another kiss, and another, and another, and you can feel her legs tremble. You can feel her body tense.

"You're so wet," you say, and you can't keep the awe out of your voice. You can feel her juices on your lips, and you lick them off, tasting her for the first time. It's sweet yet musky, and it's a taste that you want more of. You lick her now, a few tentative ones over her lips and then one from bottom to top, ending at her clit. She reacts more to that last one. So that's the spot, then. You repeat that pattern a few times.

"Oh god, that feels so good," Hanni moans, her head tilting back and her eyes closing.

"I can do better," you whisper, and then you focus on the peak of your previous licks, pushing your tongue between her lips where she's most sensitive. Hanni gasps, her hips bucking involuntarily, and her thighs tense, her hands gripping the bedsheets, and she's so responsive, so sensitive, so receptive to your touch, that you can't help but smile. You keep licking, flicking your tongue over her clit, teasing it, circling it, and you can feel her thighs tremble, her hips rock, and her breathing grows heavier and heavier.

"Oh, oh, oh," she murmurs, and her voice is a whimper, and it's so cute, and so sexy, that you can't help but moan into her pussy, the vibrations sending shivers through her body, and she whimpers again.

Now it's your turn to lock your lips against her, enclosing around her sensitive nub. You suckle on her clit, running your tongue over it, and she's rocking her hips against every movement of your tongue. It's the sexiest thing you've ever heard. All the gasps, whimpers, and moans. You could listen to it all day.

In a moment of realisation, you worry if the others can hear it. If they're in their own rooms, then probably not, but you know that at least one of them is asleep in the living room. Your head is buried in your best friend's pussy. What if someone knocks on her door? How would you explain this? What if—

"Oh god, oh god, oh god," Hanni cries and her voice is louder than before, and you can hear the desperation in her tone, and you can feel her body tensing, her back arching, and her hands gripping the sheets tighter and tighter. "Don't stop, don't stop," she moans.

Her thighs clasp around your head and all your worries about being caught are washed away with a new fear. You're trapped between her thighs. Your head is being crushed by the muscles you were just admiring. You're going to die here, between her legs. It's a pretty good way to go, though, so you accept it. At least you got to eat her out.

But then, as suddenly as it came, the pressure is released. Her legs go limp, and her body sags, and her breathing slows, and her hands relax, and she's lying there, panting, and trembling, and whimpering.

"Holy shit," she whispers, and her voice is hoarse, and you can't help but feel a sense of pride. You made her cum. You made her cum hard. "That was amazing," she whines. "I didn't know it would feel that good."

You smile, and you kiss her pussy, and then her inner thigh, and then the crease of her hip, and then you move up her body, kissing her stomach, and her breasts, and her neck, and finally you reach her lips. You kiss her, and she kisses you back, and then you're both laughing, giggling, and smiling, and holding each other close.

"That was incredible," she says, and her voice is soft and breathy, and she's looking up at you with wide, sparkling eyes. She kisses you again, and then you're lost in the sensation of her body pressed against yours.

"I didn't know it would be that good," you admit. "I thought it would be nice, but not like that."

"Me neither," she whispers, and she's looking at you with a mixture of awe and adoration. "I've never felt anything like that before."

You smile, and you kiss her again, and then you're both lying there, holding each other, basking in the afterglow.

"So," she says, after a few moments. "I don't want this to be over. I want to keep feeling like this."

"What do you mean?"

She smiles, and her eyes are full of mischief. "You know what I mean."

"Are you sure?" you ask, and you can't keep the excitement out of your voice.

"Yes," she whispers, and her voice is soft and breathy, and full of desire. "I've been thinking about it for a while. There's, uh, things in the top drawer."

"Things?"

"Just open it, dummy," she laughs, and you do. Inside, there's a sealed pack of condoms. You pick it up, and you can feel your heart racing, and you can feel the blood rushing to your cock, and you can feel the excitement building inside you. You turn back to her, and she's looking at you with a mixture of love and lust. Her eyes are full of anticipation, and she's biting her lip.

"You've thought a lot about this, haven't you?" you ask, and you can't help but grin. "You've had these just waiting here?"

She blushes and looks away, but then she looks back at you and smiles shyly. "Maybe."

You take one out and kneel back on the bed, between Hanni's spread legs. You know what to do. Simple. But the way that Hanni is looking at you, with a mixture of anticipation and excitement, is making it difficult to focus, and your hands are shaking.

You manage it, though. You roll the condom down your shaft and look at her. Her smile is wide and bright, and you can't help but smile back. She reaches for you and pulls you down on top of her.

"I can't believe we're doing this," you say.

"Me neither," she giggles, and then you're kissing again, and it's a hungry kiss, full of passion and desire. You feel her hand move between you and take hold of your cock, and you feel her guide it to her entrance, and then you're both pressing forward. The kisses are replaced by shared gasps, and your forehead comes to rest against hers. She's so warm, so wet, and so tight, that you have to pause for a moment, just to catch your breath, and she does the same, her eyes closed, her brow furrowed in concentration.

"Are you okay?"

She nods quickly and then tells you, "Keep going."

So you do. You push forward, slowly, carefully, and she takes you, inch by inch, until you're fully inside her, and you're both breathing heavily, and you're both trembling, and you're both holding onto each other, and it feels incredible.

"Wow," she whispers, and her voice is a whimper, and you can't help but smile.

"Yeah," you breathe, and you're smiling too, and then you're both sharing a laugh. "Doesn't it hurt? I thought it was supposed to—"

"A little, but don't worry," she tells you. "I'll let you know if it gets too much. Just... take it slow, okay?"

"Okay," you say, and then you start to move, slowly, and carefully, and her body responds to every movement, every thrust, every inch. Her hips rock against yours, and her hands grip your back, and her nails dig into your skin, and her lips press against your neck. She's so unbelievably tight.

"Hanni," you whisper, and your voice is a low growl, and you can't help but groan as you feel her muscles clench around your cock.

"Don't stop," she whines, and her voice is a needy whimper, her body is pressing against yours, and her legs are wrapping around your hips, pulling you closer, keeping you deep inside of her.

You pick up speed, but not too fast. You don't want this to end, you never want this to end, but you can't help yourself. It feels so good. It feels so right. It feels perfect. It feels like everything you've ever wanted.

"Oh god," you groan, and you plant your hand against her—half on her thigh, half on her ass. You grasp her soft flesh as you try to bury yourself deeper. Her body tenses in response. She likes it. "You're amazing."

"Mmm... more..." she moans, and you can't help but smile.

You start to thrust harder, faster, and her hips start to rock against yours, and you're both lost in the sensation. Breathless whimpers are broken by raw moans, which you try to stifle with kisses so no one can hear you, and then you're both lost in the rhythm, the back and forth, the ebb and flow. You're both in sync, both moving together, and it's the most beautiful thing in the world. You can feel the pressure building inside you, and you can feel her body tensing, and her breathing quickening, and you're both so close.

Hanni brings her hands to your head, running her fingers into your hair and pulling your ear to her mouth. She lets out a moan right into it, before telling you, "Take it off." You're not sure it's a good idea, but she's insistent. "I want to feel you. All of you. Please. Take it off."

"Hanni... I don't think—"

You're cut off by her moving her hands to your shoulders and pushing you onto your back. Hanni leans over you and looks down at your throbbing cock. "Let's do it properly." She reaches down and rolls the rubber off your shaft, leaving it bare. Your stomach clenches in a mix of excitement and fear. She throws the condom aside and then she climbs on top of you, straddling your waist, and her pussy hovers above your cock.

"Hanni, we shouldn't—" you start, but she cuts you off again. She takes hold of your shaft and rubs the tip of your cock along her wet folds. Her juices coat your cock. Her warm pussy teases the tip. Your eyes roll back in your head.

"It's okay," she whispers, and then she pushes your tip inside her, and she gasps, and you moan, and then she's sinking onto you, and you're sliding up inside her, and you're both breathing heavily, and you're both moaning, and you're both lost in the sensation.

"Oh god," you moan, and you can't help but grab her hips and pull her down, and you can't help but thrust up into her. You're bare. You're inside her, skin-to-skin, and it's the most incredible thing you've ever felt. The way she rocks her hips drives you insane. She's so warm, so wet, and so tight, that you're not sure how long you can last.

"Don't cum," she whispers, and her voice is a needy whimper, and she's looking down at you with wide, pleading eyes. "Not yet."

"I'm not sure I can—"

"You have to," she says, and she's looking down at you with desperate eyes, and you can't help but nod. "Please," she says, and she's grinding her hips against you, and she's riding you, and she's fucking herself with your cock, and she's moaning, and whimpering, and gasping, and you're both lost in the sensation.

"I'm close," you warn her. "I can't—"

"Wait for me," she whines, and you can feel her body start to tense, and you can feel her walls clench around your cock, and you can feel her start to tremble. "I'm—"

With a loud moan, her body tenses and cuts her words off. Her pussy clenches, and her hands grip your chest, nails digging into your skin, and her eyes squeeze shut. Her whole body quivers as her orgasm washes over her, and you can't help but thrust up into her, pushing yourself as deep as you can go. She cries out in pleasure, and you feel a heat in the pit of your stomach.

You thought nothing would be as intense as when you burst into Hanni's mouth, yet just half an hour later, you realise that was nothing compared to this. The rush is so powerful, so overwhelming, that it almost knocks the wind out of you. You can't breathe, you can't think, and you can't stop the flood of cum that's filling her. You can feel it, and she can feel it, and it's so hot, and so thick, and so wet, that you can't help but groan.

Pulsing and throbbing inside her, Hanni keeps riding you, her hips rolling, her thighs trembling and her cute little tits bouncing. Your cum spills out of her, and the mess is pooling beneath you both. It's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. You can't help but smile as you watch her. She's so perfect, so beautiful, and you're inside her—the reason she's cumming.

She collapses on top of you, her head on your shoulder, and her body limp. She's breathing heavily, and you're both covered in a sheen of sweat. You wrap your arms around her and hold her close, and she does the same, her fingers running through your hair, and she's kissing your neck, and your cheek, and your lips. You kiss her back, and it's a soft, gentle kiss, full of love, affection, and gratitude.

"I can't believe we just did that."

You can feel her smile against your skin. "I can't believe I let you cum in me," she giggles. "It felt so good, though." She lifts herself up and looks down at you, her smile wide and her eyes sparkling. "Did I do okay?"

"You were incredible," you say, and you mean it.

"Maybe next time we could—"

"Next time?" you ask, making sure you heard her right.

"Yes," she says, and her voice is soft and shy, and she's looking at you with a mixture of love and lust. "I want to do that again. And again. And again."

"Me too," you say, and you can't help but smile.

-

She's asleep. You're lying in her bed, watching her. She's so beautiful, and you can't stop looking at her. You can't stop thinking about her. About what you've done. You're not sure how you're going to get to sleep. She's snuggled up to you, her head resting on your shoulder, and her legs tangled with yours. Her breathing is slow and steady. She's peaceful, and you're so happy. You can't remember the last time you were this happy.

You can't remember the last time you felt so content. It's strange. It's like you've been living your life in a fog. You've been drifting, and you've been lost, and you've been searching for something, but Hanni has been right here. She was right in front of you, all along.

You just didn't realise it, until now.

[theglassesgirl]

The Ithaca Saga: What IS a Monster, how it’s presented, and when fictional S.A is integral to the plot.

So -

This was originally a response to @ / anniflamma which you can still find on my page unedited. But with the new discourse surrounding the suitors, I figured I could retool it as a standalone essay to express a topic I’ve been trying to pin down for a while now; What exactly does the mean when they call a character a monster? What do they do, do the reasons matter, and how does the subject of rape affect how the fandom consider some monsters more unforgivable than others? When IS rape in fiction “necessary” and why such questions defeat the purpose of exploratory creative works.

In this post we will discuss all the major antagonists of the Epic Musical, Penelope’s agency, the label of Monster and the types of moralizing one might do when faced with uncomfortable subjects in fiction and how to prevent these feelings from blinding is about what a story is trying to say.

For those who read my original response; there’s new content to read here and posts that will be referred to, if you’d like to give it another gander!

Thank you,

Let’s begin;

I think making the threat of rape explicit was very much needed, actually.

It’s come to my attention that there are people here and on tiktok who are so uncomfortable with the subject matter in this CENTURIES old tale that they’re both refusing to accept that it plays an important part in the original poem and musical, AND are bizarrely insisting that Jorge should have magically done away with it to make more palatable.

This is beyond juvenile - it’s a clear sign of media illiteracy.

What, if I may ask, do you think it means when you say that the suitors are going to force Penelope to choose one of them to marry.

You may respond that they want to take over Ithaca. That they want to be king. But take a moment to consider what forcing a woman to marry one of them will entail. I wonder if you think that one can divorce the idea of sexual violence in this plot.

It would be…unfathomably difficult to do so. Because you CANT. There is an implicit threat of Penelope’s will breaking and having to have unwilling and reluctant sex with any one of them in the event she just gave up and picked one.

This isn’t a storyline that depicts Penelope of being willing to marry any of the suitors. She is WAITING for her husband’s return. Even if he doesn’t, she doesn’t WANT to marry someone else. Her consent is being violated by the very merit of them being in her palace, eating her food, and threatening her son.

They’re doing ALL OF THIS in order to bend her will in the HOPES of raping her as a bonus to becoming king of Ithaca.

My contention is the use of “unnecessary” when it comes to this trope in media - though themes of rape can be uncomfortable, to call them unnecessary HAVE to meet certain criteria. Which this specific instance doesn’t.

By observing various responses, it’s clear that the threat of rape went completely over many’s head in this instance of the story. So I very must appreciate Jorge making it SO clear that it’s upsetting.

This part of the odyssey, and the musical, is very much about Penelope suffering under the threat of assault for YEARS. In the same way Odysseus was (a thing I touched upon in my calypso essay, in terms of his ambiguous situation in the musical) - it’s a parallel that works as both Antinous and Calypso were introduced (regardless on your personal interpretation of what Calypso did or did not do, but that’s neither here nor there).

It has taken an emotional and psychological toll of either spouse. And the kicker is that neither of them are freed of this situation on their own - they are both rescued by outside forces. Athena/Hermes helps free Odysseus; Athena/Odysseus will help free Penelope.

The looming threat of rape is SO necessary that it helps the catharsis factor we feel toward PENELOPE’s story - it’s nothing to do w Odysseus who by now is a force of nature as big as Poseidon, his actions happen TO her, and it’s up to her to decide (per “would you love me” ) what she feels about that. She can very well reject him! She’s suffered under male violence for YEARS. Odysseus’s violence and those of the suitors toward her are basis enough for the comparison.

Do all men, including her husband, become violent? Does she want to put up with that? We know from her song snippets that she is NOT a woman that simply succumbs to the Rape Rescue trope as suggested by ignorant consumers of media - and I call it ignorance and consumerism because there’s a clear lack of engaging with the material in an intuitive way. It’s just blind consumption - as if one bites into a burger and find a pickle, which you personally don’t like, and having it removed - you can’t treat ART that way .

Penelope is a very intuitive and emotionally intelligent queen. Stop infantilizing her. Her own husband suggests that like the suitors, his actions make him just as bad as they are and presents his hope as being understanding if she rejects him on those grounds. But those ARENT her grounds. She has full autonomy and can make a distinction FOR HERSELF whether she considers her husband equal to the monsters who have harmed her.

So let’s talk about the “Monster” label as it is presented on the entire musical.

Some have erroneously suggested that Odysseus has been given an out to commit cruel and ruthless deeds with out “good justification” - he does it for his family,, after all!

Which is a misunderstanding of everything every antagonist of each saga has done.

Let’s start with the Troy Saga: Odysseus has killed a BABY. He made the choice to put his family over this child. Everything he has done and lost would be for literally NOTHING if he hadn’t, as even if he had killed the suitors and regained everything - the GODS themselves would make sure that child would come to an aged Odysseus and slaughter him, Penelope, Telemachus and his entire kingdom when he came of age.

Odysseus STARTS as a monster. We have been rooting for the man who laid Troy and its children asunder. As such, the label of a monster is NOT so much a morally subjective label - it simply a thing that IS. Or rather. It is what ALL the antagonists ARE, but it’s hardly a condemnation of any of them.

(Peep that one of the first lines Ody says refers back to in the Vengeance Saga is what he did to Troy - he STILL views his actions over there as unforgivable, so not even HE will ever see himself otherwise, the problem was that he felt so guilty over it that he became a detriment (a different kind of monster) to his friends and family when they were all guilty of the same thing and trying to get home.)

ALL of the antagonists have a “good reason” to kill ALL the soldiers (who again, have looted and slaughtered the Trojans) Odysseus and his close friends included. Whether your AGREE is almost irrelevant…because the story itself proposes that it’s irrelevant.

The next saga introduces the cyclops: his motivation is primarily that his FRIENDS the sheep have been slaughtered. You can argue in the scope of things, you can’t empathize with this but it’s his good reason. He’s the son of a god, and these sheep are all he has. His friends, who matter to him as much as Polites does to Ody, are being taken and slain, he is being drugged, attacked and maimed. VERY much was Ody goes through in the final saga. And even so.

The Cyclops is antagonistic to the party, he’s a monster who feels justified killing to avenge his killed sheep. A monster is a thing he IS.

As Poseidon’s son, he asks his father to kill the 600 men who have ransacked his home and beat on him. He doesn’t view his father as being wrong for this. In the same ways Ody and Telemachus don’t waste any time addressing the slain suitors later on. Poseidon is a monster of a god - it’s just a thing he is. Not even being stabbed 100 times is enough to repay the harm he’s done - to most everyone, not just Ody, but we are not asked to quantify that. Just live with it.

Circe has killed NUMEROUS men over the years. HER “good reason” is that something bad happened to her nymphs when she let a stranger in her islands. She doesn’t even promise that she WONT kill in the future - her song ends w the suggestion that the world may continue to need her to puppeteer! Because she does not exist to be “redeemed” - she is somewhat more reasonable and capable of empathy than even the likes Athena, who being a greater and more powerful god, does not have the one on one affection to her follows as Circe does. She’s a monster! It’s a label, a thing she IS.

So here we begin to ask; is it LOVE that gives people the capacity to do monstrous things? Because the cyclops loved his sheep friends, Poseidon loves his son, Circe loves her nymphs.

And by now you’re saying now wait a minute didn’t the Underworld Saga go over this? Why yes it did! And Odysseus decides to “become the monster” - he already IS one by the standards of the cyclops, Poseidon, Troy - they all see him as a monstrous being. But he accepts that, after being one in Troy, he held back and ruined the lives of his men, making him a monster to THEM. His “good reason” for being so!

He attempts very hard to be the General he was in Troy and prioritize them going home, sparing no sympathy towards his enemies - but in the Thunder Saga we see the gods further push him to be completely self-serving like they are. The sun gods cows are harmed, he sends Zeus in relation - his “good reason” being his friend were personally harmed.

Odysseus’s “good reason” is ultimately decided to be the same good reason he had to slaughter the Trojans - to get back home to his wife and son.

Like with the Cyclops sheep, Circe’s nymphs, The Sun gods cows, and Poseidons son, WE are shocked and made to feel some type of way about Odyseuss’s reasoning. Surely HIS personal suffering shouldn’t cost the lives of “innocent” men…but it does! It surely does.

He is a monster. It’s just a thing he IS.

Now, Odysseus spends the next seven years under the thumb of ANOTHER monster. And through calypso own reasoning, despite her tragic backstory, her “good reason” she IS a monster. She’s incapable of understanding why she wasn’t reciprocated. Incapable of empathizing with a human because as a god who has spent eternity alone, it stands to reason she, like all the other monsters mentioned before, prioritizes HER personal suffering over everyone else’s. In some versions she either kills herself or does spend the rest of eternity alone. She’s a monster. This is a thing she IS.

Now what the HELL does all this have to do with the suitors?

Odysseus started the musical a MONSTER. He’s worn different hats, but it is what he IS. It’s a label, not a moral critique.

ALL of the antagonists of every saga have a “good reason” NONE of them are ruthless for ruthlessness sake! It’s immaterial whether you agree with them or not, but to understand them for what they are.

Odysseus is the antagonist of the ithica saga, md while the suitors are the antagonist to him and his family, we see their fate form THEIR POV

The suitors could not have been depicted as “rude youthful men” like Telemachus. That Odysseus killing them should be shocking - a frightening condemnation of everything he’s done and became. But I ask once again - in what world are the suitors not implicitly set up as monsters?

Because again. They aren’t being rude for rudeness’s sake! They aren’t JUST eating Penelope’s food and sleeping in HER house. Them threatening Telemachus, as you propose, isn’t “enough” of a reason because they didn’t wake up one day beefing w this boy. Everything they do is for the express purpose of sexual violence towards the Queen of Ithaca, who upon assaulting, will make it so any one of them will be King.

You can’t separate the one from the other. You get a nonsense scenario. The whole REASON they’re there in the first place.

Even if you create a fanfic where 108 men wake up one day and raid the palace to slaughter the royal family with no intent of sexually assaulting either (because remember Telemachus is also the subject of Hold Em Down) and then fight amongst themselves to be the next king, but then isn’t that STILL a “good reason” for Odysseus to slaughter them?

Now I hear what you may be asking: but if all the monsters of the sagas, Odysseus included, have a “good reason” even though we might not agree with it, what kind of monsters does that make the suitors? Surely and clearly THEY aren’t doing what they’re doing for noble reasons.

I consider them akin to the 600 men who died under their captains command.

Because, as stated before. Odysseus views his actions in a Troy as his start of monstrosity. He did all that to finish the war and do back home. He ruined the lives of all Trojans.

So did his soldiers.

The only moment in time (even in the deleted songs) that the bulk of them repent about the war is in terms that it left them without food.

But glasses! They were just following orders!

Which is what one of the suitors suggest in song 38. Their serpents head is dead, THEY were just going with Antinous’ flow, they are innocent.

Like the 600 soldiers, the 108 suitors sacked a home that wasn’t theirs and harmed a wife and child - does them being the queen and prince pale in comparison to the hundreds of wives and children slain in Troy? Homer is a genius to ask us to see these parallels for what it is.

The suitors ARE monsters. That is simply what all 108 of them are. In the context of the story itself, their intent is to break Penelope’s will, commit martial rape, and become king of Ithaca. They aren’t there for kicks, they aren’t ignorant boys, they’re socially accepted adults abusing the hospitality rule with an express purpose.

So a GROUP of monsters are slaughtered by ANOTHER monster, and though in this instance we can argue it’s morally justifiable, it doesn’t take away from Odysseus’s fear of being rejected by his family. He has ruined the lives of the Trojans, his men, AND multiple gods! To get to this point. He IS a monster. And the story asks US, through Penelope, if he is still worth loving.

Seeing Penelope as merely his reward is so backwards and bizarre. It’s very clear that bad faith interpretations of her are based on objectifying her erroneously, when the narrative presents her as a fully developed character.

In the story both in the poem and the musical that the suitors ARE NOT her guests. She is being sequestered against her will.

In what world could the suitors be “just” murderers and not….very clearly rapists? It’s BUILT into their motivation. You would have to change the very FOUNDATION of the Ithaca plot line and Penelope herself??? To say nothing of Telemachus’s role!

What’s the proposal here? That Penelope invited these suitors? That’s she’s actively looking for a replacement husband? Okay, again, that changes literally SO MUCH of the story, but wouldn’t that put Telemachus in a position where he too has to change? Does he resent his mother for doing this? Is he helping his dad out of spite or because he wants him back? How are we meant to view Penelope in this radically new and hip Epic the Musical? Is she savvy and in her right to choose a new boo? Okay…okay, so then….you want Odysseus to be the only one unchanged and go axe crazy because….hes jealous? He kills these upstanding men….curtain call. That’s all folks!

Absurdity at its finest. You throw Penelope’s agency out the window. Her weaving and unweaving her loom is meaningless or simply doesn’t happen. Or maybe it’s that she wakes up one day and goes hey yknow what I WILL consider marrying one of these guys with no sense of dread and fear. Oh wait Oddy has killed then all! Never mind me feeling unsafe a week ago, he’s done a Bad.

Crazy.

It’s just…not going to end up making Penelope look like a well written female character if Jorge has done what you wanted! THAT would make her a mindless prop. You seem to think she is one, and that’s not the case. Historically, in fact!

She is a whole person in the poem and musical whether you understand it or not. You would have to argue so thoroughly why she sucks and let me assure you - there are entire DISSERTATIONs on why you’d be incorrect.

So, no.

No, you CANT take away the rape in Penelope’s storyline. It matters ALOT. It’s the ROOT of the matter! Could old school vegetales make something up that’s more to your sensibilities? Maybe at its peak but god, I couldn’t possibly come up with a draft that could reflect that. I won’t even try.

The rape aspect of the Ithica Saga isn’t unnecessary - it’s INTEGRAL to the plot. It can make you uncomfortable, but it’s BUILT into the royal family’s suffering whether it’s explicit or not! And it SHOULD be explicit! Because you seem to think because it usually isn’t, that the rape aspect isn’t there!

I cannot imagine coming to this kind of conclusion.

They are not random men going on a siege of the palace one day - you cannot “sanitize” the SUITORS because by the very merit of them calling each other THE SUITORS there is an implicit threat of sexual violence. Because Penelope doesn’t WANT suitors. She rejects them. They’re already violating her consent.

How the FUCK to do you censor the rape when it’s in every action they take? And I know what you’re saying: but didn’t Jorge censor the rape aspect that both Circe and Calypso commit towards him?

Further reading: suggests that ALLUDING to it is not the same as censoring, that it still FITS the PURPOSE of these characters in regards to Odysseus’s suffering under them. That after ambiguity, it is NECESSARY to make the rape aspect CLEAR in order to create both catharsis and MEANING at the end of the narrative. The THEME is still respected and present, it is not REMOVED. Please consider reading the linked follow up that answers this question.

In short.

It’s truly a matter of using one’s goddamn head when it comes to view fictional depictions of rape as “necessary” - because though some depictions can be presented BADLY, to suggest they should not EXISTS lends itself to rape culture. It silences the voices of victims. Its representation denied. Don’t talk about it, don’t even suggest it, because rape is bad.

It’s an action that happens to people. It’s a crime in civilized society. It’s a physical and psychological trauma that has always been. It happens daily, in fact. Though epic the musical is a source of entertainment for you, it doesnt exist solely for that purpose.

When Homer included it within his original oral story, he did so as a storyteller trying to get his audience to philosophize, not simply have fun.

I think we’ve come to some abysmal conclusion that men can’t write about these topics when we have historical evidence of at least one man knowing what the hell he’s talking about. And Jorge has done a phenomenal job even when he hadn’t depicted blatantly.

If you’re uncomfortable to the point of not wanting to see it at all, that is entirely on you, art and creative works allow us to explore these topics safely. Whether it’s from the POV of the assailant or one of the victims commenting on it, fiction is one of the only places we can talk about it and learn about ourselves in a way it doesn’t harm real people.

I don’t even want to BEGIN discussing all the losers who are still harassing Antinous fans or people who genuinely enjoy his song despite/BECAUSE of the subject matter. Its purpose in the story matters more than you policing how it’s presented and how it’s consumed. No amount of people enjoying themselves will take away the foundational POINT of the character and song. It’s perfect the way it is.

Like with the chaos that calypso discourse wrought, you cannot control how people treat a NOT REAL CHARACTER or the songs they sing - if it bothers you that one type of fictional villian is treated one way or another, it is on you to find likeminded people instead of going into others faces and pretending to be a self-righteous prick. You can throw whatever buzzwords you want, the CONTEXT these characters live in has nothing to do with how others want to play with them. If you don’t understand the difference between the two instances, fandom is certainly not for you and will not be changed to suit your sensibilities.

To end this post, I want to thank those who further asked me questions and bounced ideas off with me, and wow, what a phenomenal ending to a grandiose musical. I hope I can see it live, animated, streamed, developed into a game etc whatever form it takes now that the concept albums are published

Thank you all for engaging w my work💖

[l-in-the-light]

I'm just gonna leave it here lol. Come on, Zoro can be pretty dumb, that's the point of it. Always has been. You think Zoro even noticed he chomped down some razorblades? Ofc he didn't! It was just some crunchy food for him. And he's too airheaded to realize only his lunchbox had anything crunchy in it lol. There's a reason why Luffy and Zoro are besties, and that reason is: they're both kinda dumb. Personally, it only makes me like them more.

But if anyone wants to go serious route here, I think we should instead ask this question: what made Zoro this way? Is he so used to eat trash to survive that a bit of poison and inedible things don't affect him all that much anymore? When we look at Zoro's backstory we can realize that he was pretty much always alone. No family, always training. Like sure, he had the dojo, but he didn't think they're his family or at least we never see anyone treat Zoro this way or him addressing them as family. He called Kouzaburo just "some old guy". No one told him they're all probably relatives either (we know thanks to SBS that they, in fact, are somewhat related). Zoro lost his parents and was on his own ever since (his father died fighting against pirates, his mom was a bandit and died of illness). How did he find the dojo, what did he do to survive before they took him in? Let's not forget Zoro was always full of pride and very stubborn. I doubt descendants of samurais would just tell him "we need to take you in, otherwise you will starve". Maybe they told him instead that they will take him in only if he promises to train (because he has potential), so in exchange he tried to be good with swords, so he can somewhat repay them for their kindness and care. Like to show their efforts to train him didn't go to waste.

Anyway, my point is, Zoro at some point in childhood might have also learned how it's like to be starving what a coincidence, it's like with Sanji huh. Luffy also knows that feeling, when Garp left him in the jungle alone and told him he needs to survive by himself. He had to try out things to eat if he didn't want to die of hunger. We can laugh that Luffy is so stupid that he's eating any mushrooms he finds, but that's probably something he learned as a kid to do to survive. So I bet Zoro, who can eat any trash you give him, is also showing us he didn't have an easy time as a child.

Disclaimer of sorts: And before anyone protests that only Sanji is allowed to have a starvation as a theme in his backstory, otherwise it won't be unique anymore, I dunno, what about Nami (who lived in poverty and at times had to survive on tangerines alone), Usopp (what did he eat after his mom passed away? who took care of him?), Chopper (yeah, he kinda ate a devil fruit because he was hungry and somehow assumed that looks edible huh), Robin (lately it's been revealed how she had to eat from trash to survive) and outside Strawhats, what about Law? After he got out of Flevance and before he joined Donquixotes, he had to survive somehow. The only possible way he could have done that is by living on the streets and by eating trash or stealing. There's a lot of starving kids in One Piece, that theme is not exclusive to Sanji, but it also doesn't make it any less special. Sanji himself is what made it actually special; by vowing he will feed all the starving ones, no matter what troubles it will bring him, no matter if someone he feeds has bad intentions or might be a bad person. He's not letting anyone starve and nothing is ever gonna make him regret feeding people, even if they try to harm him instead of showing gratitude. That's what's truly special about Sanji's backstory, the starvation bit is just allowing him to relate to starving people more. You can say all you want about Germa, but Judge didn't starve his son, and ever since he left his family Sanji worked on the cruise ship and didn't really experience hunger either.

The Razor Blade scene: Character assassination, a joke, or something else?

I've been seeing people discuss two small scenes connected to each other post Fishman Island and in Punk Hazard, the first where the two are bickering and they say this:

And a scene in Punk Hazard where Sanji packed lunches for Luffy, Zoro, Robin, and Usopp and Zoro is making "crunching" noises in the panel, and Oda reveals in an SBS that Sanji did actually put razor blades and poison in Zoro's food:

I have seen claims of character assassination in this scene for Sanji, considering his position on food being something everyone has a right to and his refusal in Whole Cake Island to put poison in the cake they plan to give to Big Mom:

I understand that comparing the two scenes, it does look like Sanji is abandoning his ideals just to get back at Zoro in their fight. But we need to look at both what Oda is saying in the SBS and also Zoro and Sanji's relationship to understand this scene, and why I don't believe this breaks Sanji's character or his ideals.

In the SBS, Oda ends the answer with "The serious nature of their fight is what makes it interesting." Going back one panel and seeing what triggered this fight:

It was Zoro being a lil shit and calling Sanji "Nosebleed-kun." That's to say, this fight is no more serious than their usual bickering, and Oda is making fun of that. Ultimately, this scene and the lunchboxes is a running joke, so that is one thing to keep in mind is that the scene, and Sanji by extension, is not serious about this fight. Of course, jokes are not immune to committing mischaracterization, so we have to look at their relationship too to make sense of it fully.

So why did Sanji actually put poison and razor blades in Zoro's food if he believes that poison shouldn't be used in food? I think at the end of the day, we have to remember that Sanji would never hurt anyone through food, especially the ones he cares about. And he does care about Zoro, it is shown time and time again that they watch out for and care for each other, from Long Ring Long Land, to Thriller Bark and Saoboady, and in Wano. My point is that Sanji knows that Zoro is a freak of nature and wouldn't actually be hurt by the razor blades or the poison, and that he would finish the food.

Zoro actually eats the damn food and literally says nothing about it, Oda didn't even think people would catch this it was such a small detail, but it's one I really like. One because, honestly, it is a funny joke to me, but also it shows a level of trust and understanding of each other? Sanji knows that Zoro is such a brute that he can just fucking. Chomp on metal (which. you know he does on the regular anyways LMAO) and have a little bit of poison go through him and he's literally fine. This is no worse to me than Sanji kicking him. And Zoro just accepting what he's been given, literally no complaints, and he finishes the food and doesn't waste it, because he DOES respect what Sanji does for him and the crew on a daily basis.

Ultimately, the difference in this scene and in Whole Cake Island is that Sanji KNOWS that he isn't actually gonna hurt Zoro by pulling this on him, hes looking to call Zoro on his taunt and be an annoying brat back to him. Bege is seriously asking him to kill Big Mom through the food that he makes, something that's on a completely different level then him pulling a prank on Zoro. The razor blade joke no different in this scene as well in Wano:

I don't think this is out of character for Sanji, it is their usual pettiness on full display, but also serves as a nice small detail into how they understand and trust each other.

[widebrimmedhatsblog]

okay...here goes...

(I wish you would write) a modern short au about Violet as a celebrity or princess or something, and Xaden as her bodyguard🤭🤭🫶

Okay I'm cheating a little on this one because I have something like this in my drafts already!! This was actually one of @skyfallscotland's prompt fics in which Lilith was the US President, and after a failed assassination attempt on the campaign trail, she assigns Xaden to be Violet's body guard. For reasons I hope are obvious, I don't want to finish it anymore. However, the first chapter was done in it's entirety by the time I scrapped it, so you can have 2.3k ish words of body guard Xaden!! (below the cut)

When Violet gets a knock on her door, she is not expecting it to have anything to do with her mother. The entire reason she’d gone to college in California was so that anything having to do with her mother would be a country away. And for the most part, it had worked. Her freshman and sophomore years had gone off without a hitch. In her classes that aren’t 99% poli sci majors, she doesn’t even get recognized, and she couldn’t be happier. 

She abandons her spot on the couch, and sets her planner to the side as she stands to answer the door. She doesn’t bother checking the peep hole, because she assumes it’s doordash for Ridoc, or last minute school supplies for Sawyer, or Rhiannon staying very ahead of her Christmas shopping. 

What she sees instead is a man. He’s tall, with dark, wavy hair, and dark skin. His arms—very broad, ridiculously so, some might say—are crossed over his chest— which is also notably broad. He’s squinting at her like he’s scrutinizing something, which is uncalled for, in Violet’s opinion. Maybe she isn’t dressed to impress just yet, but the only thing she’d been planning on impressing was her planner, and it didn’t have eyes, so her combo of old sweatpants she’d cut into shorts and a gigantic tie-dye t-shirt with her school’s name on it had been perfectly appropriate. 

“You just open the door all the way, without knowing who’s outside?” the man demands. He stares at her as does it, unflinching and unyielding. 

Violet, naturally, does both flinch and yield, because she’s entirely confused. She takes a step back, to get a better look at the man, to try and see where on earth he gets his audacity, but she comes up empty. 

“Do I know you?” she retorts, indignant. 

He matches her indignation, card for card. “Do you not have a chain on your door?” 

“Of course I don’t have a chain on my door. This isn’t New York.”

“Do you think crime only happens in New York?” The man demands. “Do you think that none of your mother’s enemies can run a google search and find out where you are?” 

He shouldn’t have brought up her mother. He’d been so hot before he opened his mouth, but even still, he could have saved the whole thing and escaped with his hotness intact if he’d avoided bringing up her mother. 

“Okay,” Violet says, “This was fun. You can go now.” 

She moves to slam the front door shut, but he shoves out an arm, blocking her. 

“See?” he says. “This is why you need a door chain. You can’t keep me out. You’re not strong enough, but metal is.” 

She stares at him for a second, blinks, then decides. 

“Okay. You can leave, and also, fuck you. Who the hell do you think you are?”

He’s still holding her door open, so she cannot make him leave, unless she resorts to something petty like kicking his shins. His arm, outstretched to support the door, looks…enticing. She’ll give him that. He has an enticing arm. Assholes are, technically, allowed to have enticing arms. 

“You know who I am,” he replies. His tone betrays no humor, which is ridiculous, because there’s no way he’s serious. 

“I don’t, actually, or I wouldn't have asked,” she snaps. “Not that I care. You have one more chance to tell me, then you’re going to need to get the fuck out, or I’m going to scream at the top of my lungs, and my two male MMA fighter roommates are going to come out here and kick your ass.” 

Ridoc and Sawyer only took one MMA class as a bonding experience, but Violet knows they’ll at the very least get this man out of the doorway. 

The man studies her with that same analytical look he’d donned when she first opened the door. He looks her up and down, then comes to his conclusion. 

“She didn’t tell you.” 

“Who,” Violet seethes, “is she?”

“Your mother, “ he says, though he’s speaking slowly, thinking as he goes, “She didn’t tell you. She didn’t call you or anything?”

“The last time my mother called me was in the year of our lord two thousand and sixteen, and that was genuinely only because she thought I had been abducted, so no. My mother didn’t call me.”

She pushes against the door with all she has, and still, he doesn’t move. He might have over one hundred pounds on her, though, given his size and his muscle mass. She will definitely have to get creative. There’s a vase on the coffee table Rhiannon won’t miss. 

“I’m your new bodyguard,” the man says. He holds the hand that isn’t holding the door out to her, anticipating a handshake. “Xaden Riorson.” 

Violet stares at him, at his hand, and at him holding out his hand. She says, “No you’re not.” 

“I’m not Xaden Riorson, or I’m not your new bodyguard?” he asks. “Because I'm pretty sure I’m both.” 

“No,” she shakes her head furiously, emphatically. “No to both. You’re neither.” 

He sighs, shoves his hand into his pocket, and emerges with a badge. It has its own little leather case, but the badge itself is shiny and gold, with an eagle at the top and a silver star in the center. 

“Happy now?” he asks, voice dry. 

He’s not just a bodyguard. He's from the secret service. 

“I’m happy that you found your way into a costume shop, but it is that time of year,” Violet says. And she’s right. With the start of August comes a proliferation of Spirit Halloweens. One on every corner, practically. 

“It’s a real badge, Sorrengail.”

She hadn’t told him her last name, and she hates that he already knows it, that he knows her mother. It doesn’t give him any legitimacy, though. He’d said it himself—she’s really only a google search away. 

But, if he’s actually Xaden Riorson, so is he. 

“Hang on,” she says, brain already speeding down this train of thought. “Stay outside, or I will actually commit a crime.” 

She steps back from the door, and he raises his non-braced hand in surrender. He leaves his badge out, and though Violet keeps her eyes on him, he doesn’t move over her line in the sand. 

She finds her phone  abandoned on the couch. She turns it on quickly, and her eyes scan notifications, but there is, of course, nothing from Lilith. Even though it shouldn’t, her heart still sinks. She should know better than to allow hope to thrive where her mother is concerned, but evidently, she doesn’t. 

She opens Safari without checking her other notifications, and types in his supposed name. Xaden Riorson. 

The results are inconclusive. No one, it seems, knows what Xaden Riorson is up to. 

“Give me your driver’s license,” she demands. 

He sighs, irritably, but then he’s digging in his pocket once more, revealing a wallet, and presenting her with his ID. He holds it over the threshold, so she plucks it from his fingers and holds it up in the light. 

It looks real, though Violet’s never been big on fake IDs, because she’s never been big on doing anything she thinks might make her mother think she isn’t perfectly capable of caring for herself. Illegal activities fall squarely on her no-no list. 

The picture matches, though Violet’s almost certain there’s a way to make that happen with fake IDs, too. She thinks she’s supposed to see a line somewhere in the middle of the ID, if it is real, but she’s also not entirely sure that isn’t actually the procedure for counterfeit money, and the longer she holds his ID up to the light without finding said line, the less sure she is of the line’s existence at all. 

Finally, she says, “Hmm.” 

“Hmm?” he presses. 

“Well, I’m starting to think you’re Xaden Riorson, but that makes the secret service thing even less believable,” Violet says. 

“Does it?” His voice is bone-dry, but Violet doesn’t mind. She’ll get to the bottom of this without his help. 

“It does, because the Xaden Riorson I knew of was a senator’s son, and the sons of senators don’t just up and join the secret service.” 

“They don’t?” he asks, still dry as ever. 

“They don’t, because joining the secret service means you’re literally willing to die for the president.” 

“And senator’s sons can’t do that?” 

Other senator’s sons could, Violet thinks, but not Fen Riorson’s son. Fen Riorson had not been just any senator. Last election, Fen Riorson had been her mother’s main opponent, and when Americans went to the polls, they had not picked him. 

He’d died six months after the election, but not before hundreds of articles were written, claiming he wanted to share classified government intelligence with the public, things the people deserved to know, but those in office were too cowardly to tell them. 

His secrets died with him. 

And Violet knows her mother is a lot of things, but she wouldn’t do this. She wouldn’t make the son of her biggest political rival her daughter’s bodyguard. Her daughter doesn’t even have a bodyguard, because her daughter does not need a bodyguard. 

“You can’t,” Violet says. “You, specifically.” 

“Well, unfortunately for you, Sorrengail, I did. What’s it gonna take for you to believe me? Want to see my work email? Want to meet my team?” 

She’s trying and failing to remember how hard it is to fake an email, or a series of emails, but he keeps talking. 

“Of course, I could just call your mom.” 

Her gaze darts to his. “You could call her?” she asks, but then, her brain catches up to her tongue. “Well, there’s AI now. You could fake her voice.”

“God, okay, you can call her and you can ask her three questions only she knows. How’s that? Do we have a deal? Because believe it or not, I have a job to do.”

She does not believe it, because if she does believe it, she is that job. She cannot be his job. 

“Fine!” Violet snaps, “Fine. I’ll call her. Don’t you dare come in.” He sighs that same exasperated sigh, and still, he doesn’t move. Violet moves to her contacts—she hadn’t lied about her mother’s radio silence. She really hasn’t talked to her mother on the phone in eight years. They also don’t text. Most of her communications are through her mother’s Chief of Staff, Colonel Aetos, who still goes by his military title. 

Still, her mother is in her phone under “birth giver” which had felt incredibly edgy when she did it at thirteen, but now makes her tilt her phone closer to herself, in case Xaden sees. 

Her mother’s personal line is secure, and though she doesn’t always carry her phone on her, she’s heard from Mira—who actually makes calls to their mother, when she’s not underwater—that their mother is good at picking up the phone. 

It rings once, and Violet bites her lip. It rings twice, and Violet’s foot begins to tap a thundering beat. 

It rings three times, and her mother’s voice sounds in her ear. 

“Violet?” Lilith asks. 

“Traditionally, “ Violet says, “people answer phone calls with ‘hello’.” 

“Traditionally, you don’t call me,” Lilith retorts. “I thought someone stole your phone.” 

“Nope. I’ve never had anything stolen from me because I am exceedingly competent.” Xaden huffs at this, which Violet cannot understand. She’s making a valid point. “And because of this exceeding competency, I can’t understand why there is a man at my door claiming to be part of the secret service. Can you comprehend this, mother?”

Violet will not be calling her mom.

“Is the man Xaden Riorson, or a member of his team?” Lilith asks. Violet thinks the world is sinking beneath her. She is slipping through the cracks. “Because if that’s the case, then yes. And he’s not claiming anything. Did he not show you his badge?” 

Violet swallows. Her throat is very, very dry. “You can get those badges anywhere.” 

“No you can’t. I have a country to run and an election to win, Violet, so if that’s all you had to say, I need to go.” 

She hasn’t spoken to her mother since her last mandatory Christmas visit. She’d spent the entirety of the summer sweating in California. And still, her mother doesn’t want to talk to her. 

“I don’t need a secret service agent, Mom,” Violet snaps. She feels suddenly sixteen again, when her mother was still her mother. 

“Correct. You don’t need one, you need four.” 

“I do not need four! I have never needed four!” 

Xaden Riorson is watching her start a screaming match with her mother, and Violet knows she should be embarrassed, but she’s too angry. She doesn’t have any energy to spare. 

“Did you hear that I was shot at recently, Violet?” 

“Of course I heard! Not from you, of course, because that would be too much to ask!” 

“Then connect the dots. You’re too intelligent to question me on this. Let Mr. Riorson do his job.” 

“He’s not Mr. Anything! He’s twenty-two!” 

“He is twenty two, which will make his work with you significantly easier on you. He’s also very good at his job. You’ll be safe. I don’t care if you’re angry with me if you’re safe.” 

“That’s ridiculous!” Violet seethes. “You’re being unreasonable! I have kept myself perfectly safe-” 

She is cut off by a beep. Her mother has hung up. Violet stares at the phone in her hand for a moment, then aggressively redials her mother’s number. 

Her mother doesn’t answer. 

Xaden Riorson is still in her doorway. 

“I didn’t quite realize it was like that between you two,” he says, casually, as if he didn’t just witness a sacred portion of Violet’s life imploding in her hands. Her privacy, destroyed. 

[khaenriahn-anthropologist]

We're going to be looking into Kaeya's design elements from his game model and to some of his notable talent designs. This is focused on the visual elements and what information they can provide about him to the viewer.

Kaeya has many details in his game model which can be a little overwhelming at times but let's take a note of how many layers he wears in his outfit. This is something that I feel points to the complexity of his character, a desire to hide something, the layers you need to peel away in order to uncover what he is at his most vulnerable.

As we know, Kaeya is a very secretive character and one that's rather terrified of showing his true self to others. In this way I feel the layers symbolize this.

Continuing on, another odd detail to note about his character is the number of belts, chains, and cuffs that he wears.

Kaeya wears a choker, with a chain beneath it, multiple belts, shirt stays for his sleeves, wrist cuffs, an added cuff on one, a hanging chain, he also has cuffs on his ankles.

While many might assume that this is a fashionable statement in game, we the viewer knowing his backstory can feel that these motifs represent being restricted. This could be from Kaeya's inability to feel that he can express his true self, or feel the weight of his original purpose in Mondstadt to act as a pawn for the Abyss Order.

He is both physically and emotionally restricted. It could also represent his guilt over feeling like a traitor or an outsider to the place he resides in.

We must also take into consideration that it might have something to do with his passive talent: Hidden Strength

The meaning of the passive stays the same in CN as well which could elude to the idea that perhaps Kaeya is under some sort of seal, barring him from using his full abilities.

Kaeya is strange too in the fact that he wears an eyepatch but lacks a sufficient reason for doing so and has consistently worn one since he was a child.

We know the eye was injured during his fight with Diluc, however in letters it is confirmed that the eye is not at all deeply affected by the injury sustained.

In his character quest: Secret Pirate Treasure, he tells the traveler that the eyepatch is inherited by his grandfather and is proof of his lineage.

Now, we know this is a half lie as Kaeya often does not tell the truth, it is likely that the eyepatch is indeed something passed on to him but due to the eye underneath. This speculation is not new, but I will go into some detail for why I think this eye is most likely red in color.

In CN this talent name actually refers to having noble blood and several of the game's references to King Irmin in the game (who is likely distantly related to Kaeya) have a red right eye.

Both Princess Fischl and the Deathly Statuette representing Odin/King Irmin have a red right eye. It should be noted that in Fischl's normal model it is her right eye that is covered instead, hiding the red eye underneath. Kaeya's new skin also includes a red bead on the right side, perhaps hinting at the color it would be beneath his eyepatch.

Ororon and Kaeya also share many similarities, the dark hair with gradient strips is extremely uncommon in genshin, he also has one reddish right eye and one blue. His entire design is deeply tied to Nihility, the undead, and the abyss. His soul is incomplete and was originally going to be used to be sacrificed to the night kingdom to bring the souls back to the living.

Though it is only speculation, we still have no idea what Kaeya's specific purpose was and why he would be Khaenri'ahn's last hope. But we have seen before that previous Alberich's were used to create the Loom of Fate, so who knows but it might have originally been similar to Ororon.

We also see that in his Sailwind skin that if Kaeya's hair was not cut short that he would have more strips of gradient hair all the way down to the end. We have mostly only see this on characters that are gods so we will see if it becomes relevant later on but it could speak to some lesser divinity that Kaeya possesses.

In fact the Tenebrous Mimiflora has featherlike appendages that resemble the peacock feathers with rings of multiple colors centering a dark 'eye'.

What is its 'evolved' form takes the shape of a tree full of eyes and the three diamonds/stars as well, and peacocks are often depicted in mythology as having one hundred eyes of Argus, tasked with guarding Hera, the queen of Gods. The fact that Kaeya is depicted both in constellation and in design as having these peacock elements is interesting when Oculi in Genshin are referred to as God Pupil/Eyes.

Even the material it drops actually eerily resembles elemental Oculi with an eye in its center, gazing out.

This creature seems to have evolved to mimic Irminsul, as you can see the branches of destiny and fate.

Even there in the center of its branches you can see that familiar design depicting the Nihility symbol found on Ororon and through various other characters in Genshin.

If Kaeya's connection to the eyes is some sort of connection to Irminsul or the mimicry of Irminsul we can also take a look at something else interesting about him.

The fur is tied closely to Abyss Mages, but also fur is often a sign of royalty and power historically. Especially white furs which are a symbol of royal authority.

Kaeya's cape is interesting, for one, the feathered part resembles that of which we see in many divine beings and statues in the game.

This winged motif is found on Paimon, on Statues of the Seven, Celestial Nails, Abyss Entities, and even in Dvalin and other Draconic figures.

But what about the layer underneath? Believe it or not, but this symbol is also present in many aspects of the game.

The symbol of a line dotted in diamonds is present in the eyes of the Unknown Goddess, Phainon (From HSR aka Kevin Kaslana)

And Istaroth, the goddess of Time

He also has the three star motif on his shoulder pauldron:

Kaeya also has more connections to the Statues of the Seven, as even his elemental skill heavily resembles Phanes and the Four Shade imagery on the statues.

It even has the same fanned star formation.

In all he seems to have many odd connections between both 'celestia' and the Abyss. Even his other talent Glacial Heart which resembles a snowflake is actually the Triquetra we see in game:

We see it on both items that are affected and touched by the night realm and the abyss in the form of flora and likely has some tie to the three moon sisters as the Triquetra is formed by three carefully layers circles (moons in our case) and represents an unbroken loop.

If anyone is interested in hearing me cover more or would like to talk details, let me know. I'd love to chat about it.

[rauchendesgnu]

Since I keep seeing people and fic mentioning Silco's lack of depth perception, I'm gonna spend a minute on writing this. Obviously, there are many, many different ways blind and visually impaired people experience the world, and my view (haha) is just one of them. However, I do think my disability comes close, at least in part, to what Silco likely experiences, which is why I decided to write this thing.

How does lack of depth perception work? The magic happens in the brain. It gets two images, one from each eye, and the brain makes them into one (simplified, I'm not a doctor). Lack of depth perception happens either if one image goes missing, e.g. because of blindness, or if the brain doesn't do the thing right.

People can adapt to it. I've been born with my disability, so it's all I've known, but people who experience trauma that leads to the lack of vision on one eye will still be able to adapt. This means that as long as the things we'd like to grab are on the stronger side of our vision, we will not have any issue in actually grabbing it. I'm not going to miss the glass and spill water everywhere because I live with my vision every day, and since neither I nor the glass are moving, I know roughly where it is and I can pick it up without issue. The problem is when things are either in the area of my weaker eye, or if they start moving.

Movement. This is where it gets tricky. It makes things like dodging, moving out of the way, jumping over obstacles, catching and throwing things, climbing, and almost all kinds of sports incredibly hard, especially if you play/train together with able-bodied people. It's easier when the movement is slow. I would probably be able to catch a ball if it was thrown at me slowly in a nice, high parabola. Anything with speed, such as all ball sports I know, is nigh impossible.

The weaker eye. Again, I'm not a doctor, so the way I define terms will not line up with what an oculist might call it, but my main visual input comes from one eye. That's what I use to navigate my life. The other eye is all periphery vision for me. The vision is very weak and the overlapping part (the part of the input of both eyes that overlap (think venn diagram)) of my weak eye mixes with that of my strong eye, but they don't quite align, plus I assume my brain works on eliminating as much the signals my weaker eye sends so as to not impair my vision even more, that if I close said weak eye, it feels like I'm losing periphery vision, not half my vision. Sometimes, I catch myself closing my weaker eye to concentrate better. This happens when the weaker eye's image interferes too much with my stronger eye. In addition, if you have a lazy eye, it's likely that its image moves around a bit (at least it does for me), while the stronger eye is steady, which adds to more confusion.

How do we apply all of this to Silco? I am going to assume that Silco's vision is somewhat similar to mine, based on the fact that his left eye follows the movements of his right eye, so he has some control over the muscles that move the left eye and a direction of where it needs to go, so it's unlikely that he doesn't have any vision at all in that eye. A) His eye is likely very dry and needs to be moisturised a lot. B) It seems like what is causing his impairment is the damage brought by the toxins. For his vision, we can assume this means that it eats away at e.g. his lens, which would mean that his vision on the left eye is blurry and the eye itself is highly sensitive to light to the point where the outside light of cloudy days can be painful. At the same time, we see that his pupil doesn't dilate, so the iris isn't working properly, which means that in case of head trauma, internal bleeding can't be checked. There could be more damage that affects his vision, but since I have no experience with other impairments, I won't include them here to avoid spreading misinformation. (If anyone has similar visual impairments or disabilities, feel free to add to the list.) C) He probably lacks depth perception. This will play out the way I have illustrated above. D) It will be easier to startle Silco when not announcing the approach from his left due to the weak vision of his eye. E) In addition to the pain from having toxins in his eye, he's likely to get headaches and eye strain.

I think that's all for now. I might add to this if I come across something else, but for now that's what my tired brain can come up with. I think what's most important to me personally is that we are more capable and independent than many people think (which is pretty universal to all people with disabilities), and also that we don't walk around as if the world was made out of egg shells. We're perfectly fine doing most domestic tasks. Some of us need a different system for it than able-bodied people, but that doesn't make us less capable.

[inawickedlittletown]

All I Want For Christmas Is You (BuckTommy) - 8/9

Summary: When Buck and Tommy pick each other for the 118's Secret Santa, they both realize they know nothing about each other. That changes very quickly. Words: 3.1k Rating: M Read on Ao3 Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven

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Chapter Eight

They didn’t kiss for very long, but only because Tommy knew that Hen, Chim, and Bobby would come out at any moment and that anyone from B-shift might catch them. Somehow, he didn’t think that Evan would like it if that was the way everyone found out about his sexuality. So, reluctant because Evan’s lips were like sugar and Tommy’s vice was anything sweet, Tommy grasped Evan’s hand and walked him to where their cars were parked. 

“We, uh, we have a lot to talk about,” Tommy said, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Evan nodded. “Ye-aw,” Evan said, mouth open in a yawn. Adorable. 

“Did you get any sleep?” Tommy asked. 

“Few hours here or there. I’m…I’m exhausted, but we can…we can talk. I want to talk. It’s all I’ve—”

“You didn’t sleep very well before your shift and we’re getting off a twenty four,” Tommy said. 

“But we need to talk,” Evan said. “Maybe we get some coffee in me and we’re good to go.” 

Tommy shook his head. “No. Actually, you shouldn’t even be driving. How about — can I drive you home?” 

Evan glanced at his car and then back at Tommy. They heard Bobby’s voice behind them. Hen was laughing. 

“I’m driving you,” Tommy said decidedly.

Evan didn’t look like he was going to fight him on it, but Tommy didn’t know what the others would say. 

“What’s happening?” Chim asked, spotting them. 

“Evan is way too sleep deprived to drive,” Tommy said. “I offered to take him home just to be safe.” 

If any of them thought Tommy’s behavior was weird when it came to Evan, none of them voiced it. From the outside it probably did look like Tommy was going hot and cold on Evan. Bobby was frowning a little and Hen did give him an appraising look. Wait. Had Evan come out to her? He’d said that, if he wasn’t mistaken. She probably had an inkling about him and Evan. Tommy didn’t even care. He unlocked his car and Evan seemed too tired to say anything one way or the other even if the excuse was more than a little flimsy. Tommy gave the others a wave before he joined Evan. 

“Do you—” Evan began and stopped. 

“What is it?” 

“Can we go to your place?” Evan asked, voice small. 

Tommy had intended on taking Evan to his shared house, but if Evan wanted to come to Tommy’s house, Tommy wasn’t going to fight him on it. 

“What, do you think your roommates will keep you from sleeping?” 

“Some of them do play video games really loud. I — I just want to talk first. Easier to do that if you’re around.” 

Tommy nodded and smiled to himself. 

His house was a bit messier than usual. Tommy had been spending a lot of time watching cheesy romantic Christmas movies and not much else so his living room had the signs of being used. He didn’t think he’d even made the bed before leaving for his shift either and he probably had a few dirty plates in the kitchen. Tommy didn’t care about any of it as Evan entered just ahead of him. 

“Want anything to drink?” Tommy asked. “Water? Tea?” 

“No. I’m good. I, uh, I can take the pull out—”

“The bed, Evan. Come on.” 

Evan was tentative. He’d lost the confidence that had existed the last two times he’d been over, but he followed Tommy up the stairs. 

Tommy led Evan to the bed, pulled the topsheet and the duvet right off, shaking them. Evan sat down on the edge, but he looked a little stiff. Tommy dropped the sheet and duvet by the foot of the table. He grabbed Evan’s hand, rubbed his thumb over Evan’s knuckles and sat next to him. 

“Maybe I should have gone back to my place,” Evan said. “I — Tommy, why…what happened the last time we were here?” 

“I freaked out,” Tommy said, simply. “I just…Evan, I like you. And I guess I made some assumptions about you. I mean all this time I really haven’t gotten to know you like everyone else has and when you jumped right into sex like you did it made me assume you were more experienced. Finding out that I was the first guy ever, it was a lot. More than a lot.” 

“And whose fault is that?” Evan asked. 

“What?” 

“The not getting to know me before,” Evan said. “You ignored me for so long, when from the very first time we met all I wanted was your attention.” 

For Tommy that didn’t track, except that he remembered Evan approaching him from time to time and Tommy just giving him one word answers or no answers at all. Tommy groaned. He was a little embarrassed to admit his reasoning for why he’d been like that, but Evan wasn’t looking at him like he was ready to judge him for it. He looked like he wanted to understand. Tommy remembered then the way that Evan had been so sure Tommy didn’t like him when he was drunk. 

“I didn’t want to get to know you because I knew I’d like you too much,” Tommy admitted. “You took my breath away, Evan, and even then you had the power to hurt me. So I kept myself away from you so that you didn’t have to tell me to stay away.”

“Oh,” Evan said. 

Tommy dropped his gaze. “I’ve never been good at this stuff. Mostly because I was ashamed and scared and unwilling to admit the truth to everyone, even to myself at times. I think I projected a bit of that on you when you told me and figured when you decided you were ready for everyone to know you’d just go out there and find the plethora of men that would jump at a chance to be with you and you’d realize that I’m not what you want.”

“Tommy,” Evan said, voice full of emotion. “I’ve seen the women. I’ve seen the men. None of them are you or I might have figured out I’m bi way sooner.”

“Oh,” Tommy said. 

“And just so you know, I’ve never lost so much sleep because I can’t stop thinking about anyone before.” 

Tommy was not expecting that. He saw the bags under Evan’s eyes, how bloodshot his eyes were too due to how little sleep he’d gotten and it wasn’t just one night. It was all week. Tommy had caused this and he didn’t know how to feel about that. 

“We can continue this later,” Tommy said. “You’re exhausted.” 

Evan nodded. He closed his eyes for a beat. “Can I borrow some pjs?” 

“I thought you slept in just your underwear,” Tommy said. 

Evan chuckled. “I mean naked, usually, but won’t it be a little weird?” 

Tommy’s breath caught in his throat. Naked. Of course he slept in the nude. 

“Whatever makes you comfortable, Evan,” Tommy said. 

Evan’s eyes met his, the look was mischievous and a little teasing. “You’re sure it won’t make you uncomfortable, Tommy?” 

“You’re a little brat.” 

Evan chuckled. He stood and started to strip off his clothes, never looking away from Tommy. Tommy couldn’t look away as a pile formed by Evan. His pants and his shirt and his undershirt. All his skin on display. Tommy licked his lips. He’d been picturing Evan in his mind for days but there was nothing like actually having him in front of him, like actually seeing him and knowing that he was within his reach. He was captivated. 

“Like what you see?” Evan asked, taking a couple of steps towards him. 

Evan’s hands were on his shoulders and Tommy tipped his head back to look at his face. When he leaned down, Tommy’s hands went to Evan’s waist, hands climbing up his warm skin to his back just as Evan kissed him. The angle was awkward with Tommy sitting on the bed and Evan still standing. It didn’t change how glorious it was and how much Tommy wanted him. He pulled him closer and Evan climbed onto Tommy’s lap, knees on either side of him so that he wasn’t quite sitting on Tommy. Tommy wrapped his arms around him, kept him flush against him and they were kissing again. 

“Hmm, thought you were tired,” Tommy said. 

“So put me to bed,” Evan said, but he groaned when Tommy’s lips found his throat, kissing and nipping down to his clavicle. 

Evan used his weight to push Tommy back and suddenly he was on his back and Evan was atop him, their lips meeting again, Evan grinding his erection down into Tommy’s own, too many layers separating them. Tommy rolled them over, trapping Evan beneath him. Evan made an appreciative noise and his hands were tugging at Tommy’s shirt and then opening his jeans. 

Tommy’s clothes fell wherever Evan tossed them, including his underwear. Evan’s came off too and Tommy took him in, dick hard and leaking, his strong thighs, the cheshire smile on his lips and the awe in his eyes. How had Tommy ever thought that he could let this go. 

“Evan,” he said and there were so many other words that he wanted to get out, but they were swallowed by the kiss that Evan pulled him into. 

He moaned into the kiss, licked into Evan’s mouth. Evan’s hands brought him closer, settled Tommy’s weight on him and made an appreciative noise about it, gasped when their cocks touched. Tommy reached between them, grasped the two of them together and couldn’t help but remember that night when he’d done the same down in the art room. He hadn’t know how new it was to Evan, then, and appreciated it all the more now. 

Evan bit his shoulder and kissed it and then the line of his throat up to his jaw. 

“Tommy,” Evan said, voice breathy. “Please.” 

Tommy moved his hand, gathered what precum had leaked out from them both and coated them with it, then he shifted his hips, rutting against Evan. Evan threw his head back, said something unintelligible. 

-

Tommy felt amazing. The weight of him, the warmth of his skin, the way that his cock felt against his own. Buck hadn’t forgotten, but his mind had dulled it somewhat because he hadn’t known somehow that it was going to be this good. He groaned when Tommy shifted again, thrusting into his hand and against where he held Buck, their cocks sliding together in such a perfect way that it made Buck see stars. It wouldn’t take much more and when Tommy leaned down to kiss him again, Buck lost it, groaned against Tommy’s lips as he felt pleasure travel through him, making him feel like he was boneless. 

Tommy slumped into him and there was a sticky warm mess between them that Buck didn’t even care about at the moment, not when Tommy was placing more kisses across his face. 

“Beautiful,” Tommy whispered. 

“Tommy?”

“Sleep,” Tommy said. “Sleep, I’ll take care of you.” 

He knew that. Trusted that. Puckered his lips and Tommy’s lips were there, a light soft kiss that Buck could treasure. He heard Tommy chuckle and Buck whined when he felt Tommy move, feeling the cold air hit him.

Buck was tired, so tired that he just closed his eyes. He felt when Tommy cleaned up his stomach and thighs and groin with a soft warm towel. 

Buck shifted a bit, finding a good position. 

“Stay,” Buck said. “Stay, please.” 

“Okay.” 

Tommy kissed his forehead and Buck was already drifting off when he felt the sheet and duvet fall over him and Tommy’s arm wrapping around him, bringing him closer to him, another kiss placed on his shoulder. 

He woke up feeling too warm, a weight around his waist and the scent of Tommy surrounding him pleasantly. His bladder wouldn’t let the moment last and Buck had to fight with the urge to just stay and bask. Tommy made a noise when Buck moved, but he didn’t stop him or even wake up. If Buck was lucky he could just get back in bed and keep cuddling. He wasn’t quick or perhaps quiet enough, though, because when he returned Tommy had sat up, the sheets pooling at his waist. His hair was mussed with sleep looking curlier and a little frizzy and there was a gorgeous smile playing on his lips. 

“Hey,” Tommy said. 

“Hi,” Buck said and suddenly realized that he was still completely naked, not that he thought Tommy minded. 

So, he walked slowly back to the bed and Tommy rolled his eyes. “Evan, I’m aware you look great without any clothes on.”

Tommy licked his lips and he looked him up and down before meeting Buck’s eyes again. He lifted a hand towards Buck and Buck grasped it, letting Tommy pull him until he was back in bed, crawling onto Tommy and kissing him, their legs slotting together and feeling the way that Tommy’s body was responding beneath the sheet. 

“Remember how you rode me last time?” Buck asked, almost a whisper.

“Not forgetting that anytime soon,” Tommy said. 

“I’ve played that over and over in my head.” 

“Evan,” Tommy said with a groan. 

“But I want…I want it the other way too. I want to ride you. Or not that. I want…I want you inside me, Tommy. Want to feel it, to know what it’s like.”

He had been thinking about it, remembered too well the way that Tommy had looked when he’d had Buck’s cock inside him and what it had felt like. How tight Tommy was. Buck was curious, he had done some research and failed to avoid the porn that came up. He still wanted it. 

He heard Tommy inhale a breath, saw his pupils dilate and felt his hands tighten on him. Buck kissed him, slid his hands into Tommy’s hair and leaned into him. He lost himself to the kiss, to all the ways that he had forgotten what it was like to kiss Tommy because they matched each other, both trying to take control, their tongues meeting in such a delicious slide and how one of Tommy’s hands had fallen to grasp at Buck’s ass kneading one cheek. 

“Are you sure?” Tommy asked. 

Buck forgot everything other than how Tommy held him and how Tommy kissed him. He felt warm all over. Happy. Excited. He was in no rush, just kept kissing and kissing and grinding down onto where he could feel how hard Tommy was. 

“Ev—” 

“Please,” Buck said. “I want it. I want you.” 

“I know,” Tommy said, kissing him and pulling back to look at Buck as if he needed to see that reflected in his eyes. “We’d have to prep you first, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. No one had ever called him that. He was sure he whined at hearing it. It definitely made him feel warm all over. 

Tommy pecked his lips, kissed his jaw right up to his ear. 

“Want it to be good for you,” Tommy said and then a little more serious, “There’s no rush, Evan. This doesn’t have to happen today or tomorrow or the next day. We can take it slow. We should take it slow.” 

Tommy’s hands rubbed up and down his back and he looked at Buck with all the seriousness that he could muster. They hadn’t really finished talking earlier, but that was easily forgotten when there were distractions. 

“Tommy?” 

“This isn’t just tonight, you know that, right? I’m not walking away from this. I’m not letting you go. I like you, Evan, and I want to give us a try. We have time to try everything. You don’t have to be ready for that right this second.” 

“But—”

Tommy pecked his pouty lips and Buck wanted to form an argument for getting Tommy to put his dick in him, but Tommy was cradling his face and he was looking at him like Buck was special and like he meant something.

“Not tonight, then,” Buck said. “But soon.” 

Tommy smiled at him, kissed him again and then rolled them over. 

“That doesn’t mean I don’t still want to take care of this,” he said and kissed down Buck’s chest to his stomach and then down until he was within eyeline of Buck’s cock. 

“Tommy,” Buck groaned. 

Tommy licked him from tip to bottom, the flat of his tongue dragging until he was taking Buck in his mouth. Buck dropped his head back on the pillow, groaned as Tommy held his hips down and went for it, licking and sucking and bringing Buck right to a climax that had him spilling right into Tommy’s mouth. Buck let go of the sheets where he’d gripped them, he slumped back and opened his eyes when he heard Tommy let out a moan. 

“Hmm, love the way you taste,” Tommy said, licking his lips 

Buck reached for him and Tommy crawled up until Buck could pull him down into a kiss, tasting himself on Tommy’s lips. Salty and bitter, it wasn’t unpleasant. Buck wondered if Tommy tasted the same. He figured it was probably worth it to find out. 

“Ev—”

“Need to take care of you too,” Buck said. 

It was intimidating once he was there between Tommy’s legs actually looking at his dick. Tommy was big, then again he was big all over, so why not there as well. 

“I won’t last long,” Tommy informed him. 

His cock twitched, it was a little wet, and when Buck touched his tongue to it Tommy let out a groan. 

Buck wrapped his hand around the base, wrapped his lips around the head and tried to take as much as Tommy into his mouth as possible. It wasn’t much, but he used his hand for the rest, tried to remember what he liked and what he’d seen girls do when they were giving him head. It was harder than it looked, especially with how much thought he had to put to keep his teeth from causing any damage but Tommy seemed to like his attempts. 

“Evan I’m—”

Buck pulled back, unsure if he could handle Tommy cumming in his mouth. He gave Tommy’s cock a few more tugs and watched as he spurted out over his hand. Not capable of helping himself he leaned forward and licked a stripe. 

Tommy made a noise, seeing him do that and then clean the rest of the cum off his hand. Buck dropped back down to the bed next to him, feeling the pleasant buzz in his body of good sex. Great sex, even. They kissed languidly, lazy without saying another word, their hands intertwined and their bodies close together. It was fully dark out by the time that either felt the need to move. 

[quibbs126]

So I also ended up making this this afternoon

So basically the story behind this is that I decided “eh screw it, I said I’d try making that megop kid idea, might as well try making some helm designs to start out with”. And I made a bit of one for TF One, though specifically inspired by their cogless designs since I’ve drawn them a fair bit

But then it dawned on me that outside of TF One, I haven’t actually drawn that many Megatron and Optimus designs. Like I drew Animated Optimus like a couple times when I was starting out, but that’s it. And also the idea itself doesn’t really work with TF One, since as it stands the war hasn’t technically even broke out yet. It works far more in a series where it’s actually been happening

So I figured, I should start at the basics and get myself some practice on g1 Megatron and Optimus, since you know, they’re the classic designs

Also side note on g1 that isn’t really related but I wanted to add in anyways, today I got the complete set of the g1 cartoon (minus the movie but that’s okay). It was a Christmas present that was supposed to come earlier but finally came in today. And I learned my PS4 can play Blu-Rays (which really shouldn’t be a surprise, I’m aware that’s what made the PS2 sell so well, but I didn’t realize they kept doing it), so that means I am now able to watch g1 on an actual TV, legally, with presumably higher quality, and possibly even subtitles

So you know, I’m doing pretty good right now. I’m glad my dad is supporting my Transformers fixation and the fact that I’m insisting on using a DVD player (for the movies at the library, but still), which means actual DVDs

Anyways, side tangent aside, back to the drawings

I think they turned out fairly decent, they don’t really bother me. I do kind of wish I added shading/lighting so the drawings weren’t so flat, but regardless

Admittedly I think I do need to work on actually doing poses and things with these designs, I’m doing a whole lot of nothing with them right now. I need to pose those cubes

Also there’s some colors shared between the two. I don’t know if this is something actually done in the show, and maybe it makes the colors look inaccurate, but I think it’s neat to use the same colors elsewhere

Now on to random things about the characters’ designs I just wanted to mention

First off, this isn’t really a character design thing, but these were the pictures I used for references, outside of some concept art I have for full body basic anatomy (getting screenshots from the show is my preferred form of reference), and I gotta say, it took a fair bit longer to find a picture online with a proper look at Optimus’ head than Megatron’s

Like it didn’t take that long, like 1-2 minutes, but I just noticed how a lot of screenshots don’t really focus on his face, unlike Megatron. I assume because in g1, he doesn’t really have much of one, given his mask covers half of it

Also while Megatron’s helm itself is relatively basic looking and doesn’t really have a lot going on, the rest of his face has got a fair amount of details

Like he’s got defined cheek bone lines (I think), but he’s also one of the few (again I think) characters to have the shadow around his eyes that becomes more common later on

Then there’s also that whatever he’s got going on above his eyes. I’d say it’s eyebrows but I don’t think that’s what it’s supposed to be, given these characters don’t really have those yet

I saw someone, aka the person who makes Transformers Until One, granatu888 (idk if I should tag them here or not), turn the thing into a battle mask that drops down onto his face, and frankly I think that’s really cool, and that’s what I now choose to believe it is. Hasbro, make that what it is

Anyways, moving on. I don’t really have a lot to say on Optimus other than his helm being a lot more simplistic in its shapes than I’m used to, as well as very triangular. Like compared to TF One Optimus, who’s got a lot of details going on, his is super simple. I also didn’t make his antenna full triangles going down because I thought it looked weird, now they’re more like TFA Optimus

Also one last thing, but I swear the way I drew him looks just like that how one artist does, the one who draws Sparkplug (sorry, unlike the last mention I don’t actually remember the artist’s name, probably because I don’t follow them. Which tbh I should probably rectify, I like their Sparkplug stuff). Sorry it was just something I noticed afterwards and can’t unsee it. This also applies specifically to the face, they draw the actual rest character much better than me

Anyways, back to Megatron. Random thing, but he’s got a whole control panel on his torso. I’ve known he has it, because he has it in TF One, but why does he have it?

This kind of goes hand in hand, but random other thought I had today that connects, his design in general is a bit off compared to other characters because in g1, he doesn’t transform into a vehicle, he turns into a gun. Like that’s not to say he looks out of place (I mean I still think his helmet looks weird), but like, he doesn’t have a lot of kibble because of it. Like he’s one of the characters with no glass on his body because guns don’t have glass

Also does he have two guns? One on his shoulder, another on his back? I don’t know, I’m only now realizing that. They probably combine together when he transforms. Also I think his fusion cannon is just supposed to be his scope in gun mode, which ironically I’m pretty sure aren’t actually involved with the damage part of shooting. I don’t know, random observation

And uh, I think that’s it. It was mostly just random design details, and honestly not as many as I was expecting. I didn’t really have much to say on the art itself, mostly since it was just me trying to draw the g1 designs

But yeah, it was neat, I think I have a better understanding of their general designs, at least here. Now to actually use them in any way

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 116 (Volunteering As a Family)

After Ash's run-in with his cousin Michael, Heather and Conrad looked for a way to teach him some much-needed empathy. Heather made a plan with her good friend, Dylan Richards, which would bring them to San Myshuno to help at a shelter where Dylan had volunteered for years. But first, Conrad made breakfast while Lavender watched him intently with a bowl of cereal.

Heather found her sister doing laundry. "You sure you don't mind spending the day with Lavender while we're in the city?"

"Of course not! We're gonna play in the snow for a bit and then we're going over to the Goths to spend the afternoon. I really need to catch up with Lydia, and Lava can hang with little Jag."

"Just make sure to watch her around Obsidian. She gets so excited around animals, and a crow won't appreciate her squeeze hugs." The dryer beeped beside them. "Thanks for doing laundry, but I really don't want you feeling like a maid or a babysitter. How's the job search coming?"

"Great, actually! Conrad told Alexander I could help with research and analysis for his charity campaigns, so we're going to work out a schedule this afternoon. I'll probably start next week."

"That's great, Hazel, but Brindleton Bay doesn't even have a mayor. I already adopted him! Come to think of it, I don't even know who keeps the power on in this town."

She assumed the answer her own question as soon as she voiced it. George Brindleton, most likely.

"Alex thinks he could be the first real mayor Brindleton Bay's had in decades."

Heather smiled. She didn't like thinking of their friend Alex tangling with George Brindleton. If the town had no real mayor, he probably wanted it that way, but she didn't want to sound unsupportive. "Mayor Alex Goth has a nice ring to it!"

Heather, Ash, and Conrad left Lavender and Hazel playing in the snow with Gord. When they made it to the Spice District, they met up with Dylan and her daughter, Pearl, outside the graffiti-covered Soup Kitchen. As Henford-on-Bagley's grocery deliverer in her teens, Dylan had witnessed food insecurity firsthand, and she wanted to instill a passion for helping others in her own children.

The Soup Kitchen was a welcome place for unhoused sims and volunteers of all ages. A small cafe on the site served the public, with all proceeds going to the shelter. The industrial space was also a place where creativity could run wild - they encouraged their residents to create art to beautify the walls so the place felt less like a converted canning factory and more like a place they could feel at home.

Seven-year-old Ash walked around the main room in awe, where beautifully-painted murals decorated the walls and floors. This was a side of San Myshuno he'd never seen before, nothing like the stark glass and steel of his family's Uptown penthouse a thousand feet up across the bay.

Ash loved the art, but his eyes were drawn to the beds. The room was packed with them - some small enough for Lavender and Bridgette. He was surprised to think a toddler might be unhoused. It's way too cold for Lava and Bridgie to sleep outside, he thought.

Dylan showed them around the cafe, and Ash even helped the baristas deliver food to various patrons. Heather helped serve while Conrad prepared ingredients for the shelter's dinner that evening. "Are you sure you don't want help prepping the cottage pie?"

"I've got this. I thought you were keeping an eye on Ash?"

"He went upstairs with Pearl. I think he might be meeting some of the people who use the shelter. Dylan says there's a kids' room."

Upstairs, Pearl introduced Ash to Zacharius Beard and his mother, Anjali, who had been staying at the shelter since Anjali had left her husband. "Why did you leave?" Ash wondered innocently. "Was he not nice?"

Zacharius shook his head. "Daddy's mean," he insisted. Ash opened his mouth to ask more questions, but Pearl discreetly shook her head behind the Beards.

"Are you watching a movie, Zach?" she cut in.

"I was going to. Did you want to join me? Mom can stay for a bit, but then she has to finish a mural out back by the tents."

"People live in tents here?"

"Fewer sleep outside in the winter, but some don't want to stay inside with kids," explained Anjali. "But they can still come here to eat and shower whenever they need to."

"Do you watch a lot of movies?"

"The movies I like, I watch a lot," Zach said. "But I don't always have someone to watch them with me. There aren't a lot of other kids here right now. Last time Pearl was here she tried to teach me to plié, but I'm not very good at ballet."

"No one's better at ballet than Pearl," said Ash.

"I'm only good for my age. So far," Pearl insisted with a confident smile. "But one day I'll dance Swan Lake with the SanMy Ballet Company."

Anjali smiled. "I have no doubt you will, Miss Pearl. But I hope you'll all excuse me while I get painting."

"Did your mom do all the murals here?" Ash wondered.

"Most were already here, but she's an artist."

"I could do art on my craft table and bring it another time," Ash said thoughtfully. "Or can you do crafts here?"

"If we get enough donated art stuff, we can, but craft supplies get lost, toddlers eat the crayons, and most of the cafe money goes to food and stuff we need, not stuff we like," explained Zach. "We're not allowed to use the mural paint."

Downstairs, Conrad and Heather were chatting in the kitchen while a hearty cottage pie baked in the oven. "It smells incredible, Conrad. What ingredients did you use?"

"I could tell you that, but this recipe is a Gordon family secret. You've got to marry in to get it."

"There's still snow on the ground," she reminded him. "No coats, and no one freezing to death! That is the least I could hope for at our wedding."

He laughed. "Then the secret ingredients stay with me. For now."

"Would Ben know it? Maybe I'll try to ask him with Mrs. Goth's seance table," she teased, and with a sudden hiss, the power inside The Soup Kitchen went out. The lights in the large kitchen went dark, the electric stove stopped baking, and the movie upstairs shut off with a click.

"What happened?" asked Pearl, looking around fearfully and noting every light in the building was out.

"Power outages happen a lot," said Zach. "My mom says the building should have better wiring, but it's too expensive. But sometimes when the power goes out, we don't get warm dinner. Just snacks."

Listening to Zach, Ash stood with conviction. "We don't need the power on to make dinner. I have an idea!" ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

ICYMI Cozy Winterfest Xtras: Winterfest With Bella Goth & Happy Holidays from the Nesbitt-Landgraab-Gordon Household

WCIF Soup Kitchen: This phenomenal lot by Fejuna in the Sims 4 Gallery. It's stunning and so detailed and the setting helped me write the story, so thank you a million times to Fejuna, and to every builder who makes my gameplay time so much more fun by sharing such incredible creations.

[kandadze]

This drama is great at showing how our goals and priorities can shift, drastically so, as we change and mature. I have a different take on WX's "ending," not that I disagree with you on it being tragic in a way, I just choose to look at it as temporary. As in, yes, at a time that the drama ends, WX is alone. But she hasn't lost what she gained (love and friendship, and confidence in herself etc), rather her grasp has become very loose.

Someone said that once ZYZ died the whole squad scattered to the winds, and I think it's only natural that after living in one another's pockets for a while, especially considering how eventful that "while" was, there will be a moment where everyone will need to be by themselves. Simply to process, away from outside influences, but without losing touch with them.

Going back to WX's main relationships. ZYC and her were practically inseparable since she arrived at the Demon Hunting Bureau 8 years prior; it was high time for him to come to terms with his feelings both towards her and ZYZ, and act on them as he saw fit, and he does just that. I cannot imagine WX would try to stop him from finally doing something just for himself.

I believe WX left PSJ to give the archer a slight push to figure out whether she actually wanted to pursue what seems to have started between them at the beginning of the drama. She showed clearly enough that she was interested, but PSJ has to make that final step.

And it might have been me who said that WX gave ZYZ's soul the freedom to fly to ZYC (though I'm pretty sure I just expressed a lot of folks' exact same thoughts out loud) by leaving the contract at the altar stone, but in my mind it wasn't giving up on the relationship with him... or rather, it was giving up the relationship with who he was before - the great demon, full of malicious energy and suicidal ideation to boot, who could never be truly hers. She might still be able to have a new relationship with the "new" ZYZ, if he comes back, and if he comes back early enough, and the thing is, at the end of the drama, we can't know if any of that will come to pass, just as she can't.

But she can hope, and so can we.

I paused my FoF rewatch for My Journey to You but reading fanfics about FoF has me thinking about how tragic Wen Xiao’s ending is. When I watched it the first time, I was so focused on the tragedy of Bai Jiu, Pei Sijing being left alone, and how how happy I was that ZYC and ZYZ got a hopeful ending that I didn’t pay that much attention to Wen Xiao. But I keep coming back to how sad her ending is and maybe it doesn’t seem as sad as it actually is, at first, because nominally she got exactly what she wanted — the restored powers of the Baize Goddess. In fact…EVERYONE gets exactly what they wanted at the start:

Wen Xiao starts out seeking the Baize token and trying to make herself useful — at the end she is the fully restored Baize Goddess, very much alive and useful

ZYZ starts out wanting to die at ZYC’s hands — ends dying at ZYC’s hands

ZYC — wants to restore the Demon Hunting Bureau and kill ZYZ — ends with the Bureau restored and kills ZYZ

Pei Sijing — wants to solve the mystery of her brother death — solves it

Bai Jiu — wants to bring his mom back/find out what happened to her — brings her back

Ying Lei — wants to become a cook — becomes a cook

But as each character gets what they said they wanted, we see that their priorities have shifted and they are now focused on something else. This ranges from Bai Jiu, who is overjoyed that he succeeds in his original mission, but is now focused on saving his found family, to ZYZ, who doesn’t want to follow through on his original goal at all.

For Wen Xiao, like ZYZ and ZYC, getting what she originally wanted turns out to mean sacrificing her personal desires for the greater good. But unlike ZYZ and ZYC, who manage to duck out of their worst ending at the last minute, Wen Xiao is trapped by her fate as the Goddess without reprieve (as far as I can tell?! someone come tell me i'm wrong?!).

Not only does ZYC leave her and Wen Xiao leaves Pei Sijing, she also probably gives up her relationship with ZYZ (someone wrote a great meta about how she places her contract with ZYZ on the alter stone and this is her letting go of him and that only by releasing him in this way is he able to find his second chance with ZYC).

She ends the drama completely alone in the Wilderness, having lost everything she gained over the course of the drama except the token itself! It’s what she's been working towards the whole time and it’s only made possible by her selflessness and it’s a complete fucking tragedy!!

Wen Xiao’s selfless generosity is a dreadful and heart wrenching thing.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Little bright colored outfit with a fun vest ~

(shoes from ebay like 10 years ago. everything else is thrifted)

[silusvesuius]

g*lmar rly has to be the best skajrim character on the real like even if you don't like him he just is . literally The best one i think......... on dat note i also imagine that he and ulfr*c despite being fairydust BFFs for lyfe genuinely have the worst communication skills ever seen

[the-valiant-valkyrie]

on the subject of solaris' terrible diet while manning the death engine, i tend to think that needing to deal with her terrible space rations + needing to deal with the mind numbingly unpalatable hospital food post the explosion would have certainly had some sort of affect on the way she engages with food.

two incredibly traumatic events (being exploded, then not knowing whether the radiation from the explosion will kill you within days or not) intertwined with some of the worst food she's ever tasted has to have adjusted her eating habits... i like to think she used to find most anything palatable, but post her recovery she's surprisingly picky about what and where she eats. on top of just straight up not drinking orange juice anymore at all.

[cerbreus]

need to find my gloves and beanies so i can go on walks even when it's 15℉ (-9℃). what do people even do when they have free time and it's winter and they don't have a partner or family to visit/hang with and their friends work on weekends/have partners to visit with..... like.... i can only spend time crafting so many days in a row before i just get cabin fever.

[todayisafridaynight]

i went on a walk and came back 60% more evil