#re: the confession

[crimescrimson]

Leon S. Kennedy in Resident Evil 2 (2019)

[laylakeating]

Guess I'm saying I don't not love you // Here I am, full heart, full stop...I love you

[lokh]

Confession time: I initially started shipping Laishuro because I thought it was the funniest way to make Shuro suffer after everything that’s gone on (Laios would have been fine with it since he obviously doesn’t hold any ill feelings). And then I read the last chapters and epilogue and was like ohhhh…

Anyway I also reread the manga and had the realization that Shuro had no idea how cool Laios thinks he is. The anime didn’t keep him mumbling “What about me is strong…?” after Laios said everything about himself not being as skilled or strong as Shuro. Then that made me think about how ironic it is that Shuro is probably aware/self-conscious about being boring from the perspective of his father that he doesn’t know how to handle Laios thinking he’s the greatest guy ever.

Ouhghhh my god...................... theyve had their moment in canon where theyve said their worst opinions about the other. now i desperately want a moment for laios specifically to say, with the full concentrated power of the sun, exactly what it is that he thinks is so great to shuros face. i want shuros face to explode into flames

[thegoodthegrandandtheugly]

[l0v3c0r3e]

all you need to know that mike and will are going to kiss is that they really pulled the "were friends!" line with them

[thegoatsongs]

Jonathan expressed comfort at the thought of being in a space in which women of old lived their "sweet lives" whose hearts beat lovesick in their "gentle" chests, and he desired to rest in there, as a sanctuary from the presence of the Master of the castle (only to be ''wakened'' in a monstrous version of that safe space).

Now in Budapest, he is healing in a space inhabited also by women, and surrounded by them. Ones who commend his "sweetness" and "gentleness".

[makiitabaki]

[widowshill]

— And do you or do you not have difficulty remembering such simple instructions? — Only during thunderstorms, sir.

THE SOUND OF MUSIC (1965) / DARK SHADOWS (1966)

[sforzesco]

The Bargain

like, sometime just before Pompey and Crassus go all in on their plans for their (first) joint consulship.

the actual. scene. I have for this in my mind that dictates a lot of their dynamic when I draw them is something like this

however. I'm a fucking sucker for a catchy song. I've had tsada mahigugma on repeat for the whole day. usually they're more destroya to me, but. the beat is good.

so! an alternative version of the Bargain that I usually have in mind, because I'll redraw six or seven variations of the same scene if I feel like it, I don't give a fuck. this time it's with all the bite taken out of it and replaced with a night that you'll look back on years later and wonder if it was the right thing. and then decide lmao yeah!! it was! he's the only motherfucker in rome who can handle me!! let's do another joint consulship!

it's the lahat nalang ay kalaban may tao din na para sa'yo, kapit lang dahil darating din yun of it all or whatever!

[crimescrimson]

Leon S. Kennedy in Resident Evil 2 (2019)

[bl-bam-beyond]

SHIN KI TAE BEING MESMERIZED BY LEE WAN...

OUR DATING SIM (2023, SOUTH KOREAN)

Shin Ki Tae (LEE SEUNG GYU) was overwhelmed by Lee Wan's (LEE JONG HYUK) confession in high school and his subsequent reaction caused Lee Wan to flee.

Shin Ki Tae reconnected with Lee Wan through the latters cartoon blog well before a face to face reunion took place.

7 years after the confession Shin Ki Tae lured Lee Wan out of hiding via a job proposal as an illustrator for gaming company creating a dating simulation app.

Initially a bit cold Shin Ki Tae finally returned the confession but could Lee Wan (still pining for his high school first love) believe that Shin Ki Tae returned his feelings after what Lee Wan felt as rejection 7 Years Ago.

@pose4photoml @lutawolf @wanderlust-in-my-soul @pharawee @kingofthereblog-boysloveed @absolutebl

@thewayofsubtext @bengiyo

[starleska]

revisiting the old hyperfixation that is Warren the Eagle 🙈💖 sometimes hyperfixations lie in wait for weeks, months, even years before they get you. but within seconds of hearing that pathetic, whiny little voice, i just fucking knew... i knew Don't Hug Me I'm Scared had gotten me again and i knew it would be this freak before he was even on the screen 💀

[sugarspikesart]

[Sleepover]

After reuniting, Billy and Rebecca often hung out to catch up and spend time together. As time passed, Rebecca started inviting him over and doing sleepovers at her place

[cool-cowboy]

Summary:

Leon doesn't have time for a relationship, sex on the other hand, he's got just enough. What could possibly go wrong with no strings attached sex. Him falling for you, that's what.

Tags:

Friends with benefits, complicated relationship, switch Leon S. Kennedy, Light angst, idiots in love, Emotional hurt/comfortish, Vaginal fingering, oral sex, dirty talk, praise, multiple orgasms, forced orgasm, overstim, vaginal sex, riding, missionary, love confessions (Kinda)

Blurb:

I’m only halfway finished eating when he knocks, something I’ve told him he doesn’t have to do, if he can have half his stuff moved into place he might as well just consider this his second home, but he’s always been respectful, has an awful, guilty sense about him, feels he’s using me, even if he doesn’t say it, but he can’t use me if I let him, knew what I was getting into from the beginning, met him at a bar then re-met him a couple years later, saw him stumbling his way home in the dark, all bloody and beat up, probably the worst off I’ve ever seen him, dragged him to my place and cleaned him up, and he’s kept coming back ever since, a stray, always at my doorstep, looking for some attention.

Text:

“Hey, you busy tonight? I just got in I’m- I need a shower but- If you want me I’ll come over?” It’s been like this for a while, calls the minute he gets back from wherever he goes, him outside my door in the middle of the night, looking stressed and beat up as hell, though I don’t know any details, I do know his work is something heavy, something terrible, leaves him so tired he can’t do much other than fuck me and fall asleep in my bed, leaving before I wake the next morning to do it all over. I can’t be upset, that’s all this ever was, sex, but I can’t help but be a little peeved at his lack of whatever it is I want, though it really isn’t just physical, the feelings are there, ignored, but present, his job not one that allows for much in the way of a relationship, at least not a fulfilling one with how often he’s gone. 

“I’m home, making dinner- I can wait, if you-” “Don’t wait up on me, I don’t-I’ll be fine. Go ahead and eat, I’ll be there soon, okay?” I hum, not really expecting him to accept, his attempts to keep me at arms length never all that serious, just cautionary, not trying to give me the wrong idea, I guess, but he really should be more careful, the way he acts is not exactly that of a friend with benefits, probably more similar to a boyfriend, other than his tendency to run off, refuse himself the comfort he so obviously needs. 

“Okay. See you.” The line goes dead, and I continue my cooking, thinking about him, something I probably do too much of, but I can’t help it, he’s interesting, not allowed to tell me much about what he does, says more than he probably should most the time, shows up all bruised and cut up and expects me to ignore the sick feeling at seeing him hurt, says he’s had worse and ushers me off to bed, never wasting much time, only allowing himself the least perfect form of comfort, other than the times he stays glued to me afterward, when he seems a little more afraid of whatever he’s been roped into, when he’s so damn scared he can’t help but seek comfort in the only person he seems to be able to. I don’t think he has any family, friends even, just me, something not even close to either, though I suppose we are friends, in a way, just not all that close, considering he won’t let me be. 

I’m only halfway finished eating when he knocks, something I’ve told him he doesn’t have to do, if he can have half his stuff moved into my bathroom and a drawer dedicated to him in my dresser he might as well just consider this his second home, but he’s always been respectful, has an awful, guilty sense about him, feels he’s using me, even if he doesn’t say it, but he can’t use me if I let him, knew what I was getting into from the beginning, met him then remet him a couple years later, saw him stumbling his way home in the dark, all bloody and beat up, probably the worst off I’ve ever seen him, dragged him to my place and cleaned him up, and he’s kept coming back ever since, a stray, always at my doorstep, looking for some attention. I pad over a little quicker than I should, sure he’s cold, it’s way below freezing, and he walks, hates driving, says he’s gotten into one too many accidents to trust it, and I believe him. He looks worse than usual, exhausted, clothes wet from the snow, tip of his nose painfully red. 

“Hey. It’s uh- It’s snowing.” I pull him inside by his sleeve, closing the door behind him and turning to wait on him to get his coat and shoes off, his expression pained when he pulls on one of his sleeves, a sprain, probably, never wears any kind of brace when he comes to see me, says he doesn’t need anybody worrying about him, even if he knows I know him too well to be fooled by now. 

“I see. I’ll put an outfit in the dryer. Get some food, it’s still hot.” I leave him, heading down the hall to my bedroom, hoping he’s not feeling argumentative tonight, though he doesn’t seem to have the energy to be, slumped over from tiredness, walked all the way from his apartment in the snow to see me. I dig through his things, pulling out some sweats, not all that warm, but dry, stopping on my way down the hall to toss them in the dryer, warming them up for him, something that had him tearing up the first time I did it, not that he knows I saw, didn’t mention it, never do, let him relish my attention all in his own head, don’t try and get him to feel out loud, finding it enough that he does, even if I don’t get to see it most the time. 

“Thanks.” He’s sat at my little island, in the chair I never use, eating, thankfully, with his non dominant hand, the other in his lap, hidden from my view. 

“Don’t thank me, just eat as much as you want. Might as well, before you go back to your takeout diet.” I give him a look, scolding, not a big fan of his eating habits, especially with how much he’s on the move, he really should take better care of myself, but I guess he doesn’t really have time for cooking, runs off convenience, that and meals sat in front of him by me, nearly by force, finds himself a nuisance everytime I offer to help him, refuses my care unless I downright beg to give it. 

“ ‘m not even hungry…” Damn liar, he’s starving, scarfing it down as I eat alongside him, finding this type of time spent together a little more rewarding, something soft to make up for all the times we’ve spent being rough and messy in my bed, never his, he never wants me to have to worry about taking the trip, feels bad enough showing up at my door, would never ask me to come to his.  

“Sure…” He gives me a look, same one he always does, begging me with his eyes to leave him to lie, let him pretend he’s alright. I don’t say anything else, just finish my food, taking hhis bowl from him before he’s done, filling it back up at the stove and setting it back in front of him, his “thanks” quiet, subdued, my care allowed as long as we don’t talk about it, quietly appreciated, relished by my withdrawn lover. I leave him to eat, going to collect his clothes, coming back to find him up out of his chair, cleaning both our dishes, looking pained, his right wrist swollen, sprained. “What are you doing?” He looks at me over his shoulder, feigning indifference, acting like this is perfectly normal, him doing my chores. 

“Cleaning.” He elbows me back when I try to stop him, leaving me to sit up on the counter and watch, his little stack of clothed waiting in my lap. “Always talkin’ about how I’ve moved in, wont even let me do the dishes…” He finishes, setting our bowls and spoons out on the rack to dry, wiping his hands off on the little dish towel laid on the counter. 

“Here.” I offer him his outfit, and he stares at it, looking choked up as he takes it, stood in front of me, looking at me, all his affection buried, thanks caught in his throat, not all that good with his words, never has been. 

“Later.” He sets them down, beside me, moving between my legs, easing them open with icy hands on my thighs, the chill making me flinch away, his grip steady, sliding up toward my hips, his eyes on my face, lips parted. 

“That’s- Cold, Leon.” He hums, leaning down to kiss me, running one hand up to the side of my neck, ice cold and uncomfortable, my hands pushing at his chest, shirt soaked from the snow, cold and stuck to his skin. “Ew. Take this off.” I pull on it, and he listens, getting it up over his head and hauling me to the edge of the counter, kissing me like his life depends on it, keeping his mind off whatever’s on it, so desperate for distraction he doesn’t even mind the shivering, his whole body ice cold, pants wet and chill between my thighs. “Can you- Let’s warm up first, yeah?” He pulls back, looking a little distraught, having a look back at the fireplace, lit, before picking me up, taking us both over to my little faux fur rug, his back facing the fire when he sets us down, me in his lap, his hands planted down to warm flooring as he looks at me, yearning, never patient, always too worried about forgetting to remember to take his time. 

“Kiss me.” I sigh, wrapping my legs a little tighter around him, the wet chill of his jeans seeping into my shorts, his cold nearly painful on my bare thighs. I kiss him, giving him the distraction he’s looking for, his lips cold and chapped, something I used to hate, now just something of him, the rough skin catching lightly as I move against him, a hand dug into his hair, soft and cold, slowly warming with the fire at his back, his lips moving against mine in a needy way, this being the only comfort he’s allowed, the only touch he lets himself have, the only thing in his life that doesn’t require more than he’s willing to give. “I’m gonna be… Gone a few weeks… Spain this time…” He always tells me, even if he’s not supposed to, gives me warning when he’s ready to disappear, calls me up whenever he returns, asking to come over, though half the time I wonder if he’s just wanting to assure me he came back alive. 

“Okay… Just-... Let’s not talk about it…” He hums his agreement, deciding he’s warmed his hands long enough, big hands splayed over my waist, warm and capable, not all that soft, worn from years of being what he is. 

“Am I warm enough yet?” Impatient. I press my hands to his cheeks, cold, shaking my head at him and pushing him back, laid out with my legs on either side of his hips, sat back on my haunches as I reach to turn his head to the side and up, getting it pointed toward the fire before running my hands down his neck, his chest, massaging his skin, warming him up, she shivering slowly calming down, not that he cares, ignores his own issues so often he rarely notices he has one. “Hey, can you- Come here.” He pulls me, gets a hand on the back of my neck and drags me down over him, kissing me some more, always needy for it, craving simple touch, wanting to be overwhelmed, so full of me he can’t think of whatever’s bothering him at the moment. “There… You’re… Too damn nice to me… Always worrying… You shouldn’t… ‘s not worth it… All I need is this… Just kiss me and make me forget… Just for a little while…” He used to pretend that wasn’t it, that it was just about good sex and nothing else, but he doesn’t anymore, both of us aware of what’s bothering him, why he’s here so often, just craving someone, his hands all over me, sliding up my back and holding me to him all of him against me, big and longing, his want for more buried under fake, not at all convincing nonchalance, his kisses too careful to be unloving, his touch too pleasing to lead me to believe he doesn’t care. 

“Hey, let me-” I sit up, pulling my waay out of his arms, his look unhappy to have me take myself away, my shirt up and over my head before I’m back over him, kissing down his neck, giving him the soft kind of attention I know he secretly likes, sliding a hand down over his slowly warming stomach, teasing a thumb under the waist of his jeans. 

“Can you- Don’t make me wait… Not this time, I just-” He shuts up, my hand palming at him apparently appeasing for now, my lips kissing across his collar bone, soft and slow, working him up in a way he doesn’t usually allow himself, the slow build he usually neglects, goes straight to work, doing enough to keep his mind occupied. “God… Missed this… You’re so damn good at it… Always make me feel so damn good…” He’s petting my hair, sat up on his elbow to watch me kiss my way down his chest, staring at me with a look I’m not if he’s aware of, a careful kind of affection, tentative, afraid of falling too far, giving into what he wants for fear of losing it. 

“Leon?” He hums, brushing my hair back and holding it there, his eyes flitting down toward my hand, working the button and zipper of his pants, indulging in his impatience, figuring someone always on the go really doesn’t have any reason to be very patient. “I have an early meeting tomorrow.” He looks scolded, like I just called him a bad dog, like I couldn’t have refused him showing up this late, like I ever have, never once, always allowed it, well aware how badly he needs it, too afraid to leave him alone in his head. 

“Shit- Why didn’t you say? Sorry- I uh-” I shake my head, not meaning to make him feel bad, just letting him know he’ll be waking up on his own. I kiss down his stomach, pulling on his pants as I go, getting them off with a bit of assistance, the slick fabric sticky on his skin. 

“I didn’t mean… I don’t mind… You know that… Just meant… Jesus Christ Leon!” I sit up, having a look at it, a blood-soaked bandage, half-covered by his boxers, the band pulled down to give me a look at it before he grabs my hand away, sat up and holding onto my jaw the next second, his look pleading, pained. 

“Just- Don’t, okay? I’m fine, I just-” “You’re bleeding.” He doesn’t say anything, just looks at me, his body littered with evidence of what he does, though he’s never come to me bleeding, scabbed and bruised, yes, but he’s never been so impatient he’s neglected to take proper care of his wounds, whatever’s below the bandage large, spread from the bottom of his ribs down to just below his hip, the bandage soaked-though with fresh blood. “Let’s-” “Stop that. Just- I don’t need you to worry, how many times do I have to say it?” He regrets it immediately, his tone of voice, harsh, louder than he usually is, mean. 

“Fine, Leon, whatever you say.” I’m near crying, eyes watery, all from nothing, the truth, the mood all but ruined, and he knows it, looking distraught and sorry and sickly all at once. 

“Sorry-Fuck- I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t- I know you can’t help it I just- I really am okay. I’m sorry, I didn't meant to get like that, okay?” I nod, feeling a little sick myself, not very glad to have our little issue brought to light, his kisses a little lighter when he brings his lips back to mine, softer, apologetic. “I’m so sorry… Just- Tell me how to fix it… Please, I-” “It’s okay, Leon… It’s okay…” It’s nothing I didn’t already know, just shocking to hear it out loud, hurtful, but not his fault, even if he did get a little aggressive about it. 

“No… You’re too damn good to let me yell at you.” He swallows, looking distraught, pained at the thought of hurting my feelings, hands light on my sides as he looks at me, guilt plain on his face, eating him alive for what he thinks he’s doing to me. “God… You’re the one good thing I’ve got and I’m ruining it, I’m so fuckin’ sorry, I don’’t know why- What the hell’s wrong with me?” I put my hands on the sides of his face, looking at him, worrying against his wishes, not happy to be causing him anymore pain than he already has. 

“Hey, it’s okay. Just- Stop feeling bad, I know you didn’t mean it…” I kiss him, soft and sweet, being what he needs, distracting him, keeping his mind off everything beside me, what I can give him. “Do you… We can head to bed, if you’re not… In the mood anymore.” I look at him, searching, unsure what he wants at this point, his place in my life pretty ambiguous, mine in his even moreso. 

“I can go? I don’t- You’re probably sick of my shit-” “What do you want?” He doesn’t look pleased to tell me, wants me to tell him, is afraid I’m put off by his reaction to my care, but I know he’s just putting up a front, same as always. 

“You.” That’s all he says, the word giving all the confirmation of his feelings I need, my nod overly feverish, lips meeting his in a heated kiss, the confession on the tip of my tongue, choked down to keep our fragile deal in place. “You’re perfect… Too damn good to me… Shit… I’ll take my time… I know how you like it…” He turns us over, laying me out beneath him, an arm around my back, his lips hot on mine, his kisses quick, passionate, careful. “So damn pretty… Gonna make you feel good… Give you half ‘a what you give me…” He’s making his way down, kissing along my neck, to the outside of my collar bone, trailing back toward my chest as his fingers ease their way up my stomach, his arm below me getting my bra undone before he takes it down my arms, kissing his way down over my breast, laying a sweet kiss to my nipple while he stares at me with his pretty eyes, his mouth closing over it, sucking lightly, his body sat back on his haunches, hands on the curve of my hips. He trails his lips across, mouthing at my other nipple and groaning, seeming pleased, forgetting his guilt for the time being, focused on making me feel good.

“Le?” He raises his brows, waiting on me to continue, lips just below my belly button, hands gripped to the waist of my shorts. “Hurry up.” He smiles, pulling them down with dramatic fervor, kissing down over the front of my panties and groaning when his lips meet my clit, kissing at it and letting his eyes close, enjoying himself. “Take those off.” He does, smiling to himself as he does, getting them off and pushing his way between my thighs, settled down on his stomach, his tongue licking up over me, spreading slick before he groans, eyes closed as he laps at my clit, his hands gripped to the sides of my thighs, one of mine in his hair, pulling, something he likes, always gets more riled up when I’m a little rough with him. 

“Fuck… Love eating you out… Could stare at you all goddamn day… Don’t be shy… Don’t be afraid to hurt me a little, yeah? You know I don’t mind… “ He gets back to it, and I reward him, pulling roughly when he sucks on my clit, his low groan getting me to squeeze my legs around him. “Mm… That’s it… Hold me captive down here… Keep me long as you like…” He’s using his thumb, rubbing soft circles as he kisses all over my pubic bone, staring up at me and letting out little pleased noises. He presses a finger inside, humming happily and adding another, getting me ready without me asking, well aware how well endowed he is, painful without prep, as we learned when we were a little too impatient, around a year ago, wetness not enough to compensate for his size. “There… Taking it so well… Always do… You wanna cum for me? Yeah? I want you to… Wanna make you feel good… Give you a reason to let me come back, keep you satisfied while I’m gone…” I’m getting close, his attention and his words and the look on his face all coaxing me toward it, legs trembling against his hands, fingers tugging on his hair to draw another low groan out of him. “That’s it… C’mon, pretty girl, give it to me… Gotta cum before I can give you what you really want, cum now and one more time and I’ll give you my dick… You’re so close, just relax and let me give it to you… I know how you like it… all slow until it’s too much, gonna get you panting and needy for it…” I’m clenched tight around his fingers, eyes squeezed tight as the pleasure washes over me, shaking and moaning for him, which he loves, moans right back when reach a little further to sink my nails into his back, relishing the shudder that rips through him. 

“Leon? Hey, stop-” He’s gone back to sucking, overstimulating me, making me shake and squirm, but he holds me still, groaning against me when I claw at him, teeth gritted from the overwhelming pleasure, head tipped back into the rug in a weak attempt to escape. “Le- That hurts- can you-” “You can take it… Just dig those nails in and take it…” He’s being too much, sucking and lapping at me, holding my legs open and making me take it, my back arched up off the rug from the overstimulation, not used to having two orgasms forced out of me before we even get to the main event. My low moan is his only warning before I’m gushing, whining and digging my nails in, just like he asked. “There you go, good fuckin’ girl, look so pretty cumming for me, gonna have to give me another, cum all over my dick, yeah?” I hum, feeling dazed, coming down as he kisses his way up. “I’m gonna get a condom, be right back- Wait, you done?” I shake my head, he should know by now I’m not done until I’ve got him inside, he hasn’t even gotten off yet. “Okay, yeah, be right back.” He presses another kiss to my lips, leaving me laid out on the rug as he stands, hurrying off to collect a condom from my nightstand, giving me a moment to get my bearings as I watch him walk away, bloodied claw marks sunk into the skin of his shoulder making me grimace, didn’t mean to scratch him up that bad. He’s back soon enough, smiling down at me laid out below him and tossing the condom onto my stomach before reaching to undo his pants, giving me a show I happily enjoy, sitting up on my elbows to watch, giving him a nice view as well, feet planted spread out, chest pushed out just a little. “Fuck you look good, really tore up my back, huh? Listening so good today…” He drops his pants, kicking them off to the side, followed soon by his boxers, eased down while he stares at me, cast to the side before he crawls his way over me, kissing me, ignoring the condom to get some more anticipation, his dick looking painfully hard, left without attention for much too long to be very comfortable. 

“Le- Let me…” I push him, getting him sat back then pushing him further, sitting myself up above him, condom in hand, torn through with my teeth, well aware how visual he is, how much he loves seeing me doing lewd things, his eyes cast down as I roll the condom down over him, keeping a hold on him to hold him upright, sinking down on him slow, the stretch no unfamiliar, his dick just long enough to press to my cervix, the pain of it something I don’t really mind, just a dull, somewhat uncomfortable pressure, easily forgotten in the pleasure I’m about to be getting. 

“God, love when you take control. Go ahead, ride my dick, pretty girl, show me how good you are, how well you take it…” I lift up, still getting used to the stretch, sliding back down slow, watching him sit up on his elbows, lips parted as he watches, not minding the slow pace, letting me get used to it without complaint. “Shit… Fuck, sweetheart, torturing me… Feels so damn good, look so pretty sitting on my dick…” I let out a shaky breath, leaning back on one hand to bounce, giving him and myself some relief, watching his head tip back and his eyes go closed, one hand on my hip, the other propping him up. “Jesus… Shit, sweetheart, feels so good, doing so good… My girl…” That gets me, I pause, looking at him, my mouth gone dry, his eyes gone wide, his expression at a loss. “Fuck-Sorry-” “Say it again.” I’m breathless, way too eager, leaning over him with a hand on his chest, waiting, anticipating, feeling hot and fuzzy and anxious all at once. 

“You’re my girl… Now gimme this.” He pulls one of my legs up, planting my foot outside his hip, my other knee still on the floor when he thrusts up into me, setting the same pace I had, not that fast, but deep, his eyes on my face, staring up at me as I get my hand down beside his head, holding myself up, my other hand on his chest, laid there, his on my hip and wrapped around my upper arm both of us breathing heavy, staring at each other. “God… You’re-ah- I can’t- You weren’t supposed to care about me… Clean me up, feed me-hah- keep a drawer full of- shit- full of my clothes, keep my damn shampoo right fucking next to yours…” He turns us over, leaning over my with a hand beside my head, the other on my hip, lifted a little off the ground so he can thrust into me, his thumb stretched across to rub at my clit, my hand on his forearm squeezed tight, nails digging in. “How am I s’posed-Nnh- How should I feel? You’re-hah- you’re everything I would’ve wanted if I could have it-fuck-! I can’t- can’t be what you-Hnn- need, I’m not- ‘m not good enough for-ah- for someone like you, can’t be a boyfriend- I fucking hate it- ‘s not fuckin’-nnh- fair- to you…” He’s making me sad, saying such sweet things in such a down manner, offering up his love all while telling me it’s not enough, like I haven’t accepted him over and over for all he can give. He’s moving fast, pulling me into quick thrusts, bouncing me, rubbing at my clit with a little too much pressure, trying to get me off before he loses it. “You keep-ah- keep on treating me-fuck- so damn nice, letting me come back over and-oh god- fucking over, letting me lie-” He makes a choked noise, dropping his head down to the crook of my neck and kissing, whining into me, his hips losing their rhythm, both of us close, but he loses it first, bites down on my neck and fucks his way through it, getting me off halfway through and groaning in my ear when I clamp down on him, his thumb working me down as he kisses at his bite, easing himself out once I stop pulsing around him, leaving his face in my neck, hiding from me, unwilling to face me after confessing everything he’s kept to himself the past two years. “Leon?”

“I’m so goddamn sorry. Fucking ruined the mood, huh?”

“How long before Spain?”

[power-handmaiden]

Day 307: Handsome Sentient French Fries Get Me Off: A Trans Buckaroo Tale

This tingler is about so much more than french fries! We've got themes of workers' rights, the power of activism and protest, and the importance of being an ally to other groups. One of those tinglers you might not be expecting to go to as many places as it does, but damn, does it ever.

There's one passage in this tingler that really stands out to me right now, when I'm sure a lot of people are overwhelmed with the amount of worthy causes that we could devote our attention to.

"We can’t be at every protest, or give money to every charity, but we can seize these moments when they appear.

We can lend a hand when someone needs it.

We can try."

Hey, everyone reading this is on tumblr dot com. One of the internet's top spots to induce decision paralysis in people who want a cause to support. I know I'm not the only one who can go on the internet and just freeze under the weight of everything going on. I love this tingler because it touches on something that's very smart because it's so simple: if you just go outside and look around you, there are opportunities to help others all the time. No need to overthink it, you can just act when you see someone in need, and see what good comes of it!

[ii-meeple-confessions]

ON THE TOPIC of the twist, I ALSO love loveee the idea of Mephone subconsciously passing down memories to his creations. I mean, it already kind of did happen with the gememories, but I like to think about it a lot in reference to other characters and moments too.

And this IS admittedly kind of canon. I mean, think about how Suitcase has hallucinated Mecintosh despite never seeing him before! That was probably Mephone unconsciously projecting his memory of Mecintosh onto her. Even if she didn't actually remember ever SEEING Mecintosh, Mephone did. So therefore she can hallucinate him. I wonder if she's ever hallucinated anything else related to meeple, actually? AND On the topic of Mephone's memories appearing through his generative abilities-- The closet at hotel OJ becomes evermore suspicious to me because. ha. hm. why was it. the exact same layout as the closet 3GS was in. HMMM.... Mephone's unconscious projection strikes again.

The key 3 have spoken about the wider Melife system or whatever and how all of the contestants are connected to Mephones software and thus can be transferred memories through it too. Like uhh, all of them treat Box as real and living BECAUSE they're connected to Melife and thats how Mephone is trying to cope with Box's death.

But I think that theres so much more you could DO with this idea of Mephone astral beaming his memories to contestants. I mean, even if we just speculate on what Mephone went through at Meeple, you can do a lot with different contestants having different reactions to things-- Not because they're relating an event to their OWN memories, but because Mephone went through something and he passed down that reaction to them. If im making sense here? I'm super tired. But yeah! Woosh. I love Melife. -2G Anon

GRAAAAGGH 2G ANON I:M GRABBING YOU BY THE SHOUKDERS AND SHAKING YOU AROUND. I LOVEEE LOVE LVOE UOUR THOUGHTS

“All of them treat box as alive because they)re connected to melife and that’s mephone’s way of coping with box’s death” heeey. What if I killed you /POS /POS /POS /POS /POS

AND THE HOTEL OJ CLOSET LOOKING SUSPICIOUSLY LIKE THE MEEPLE CLOSET. GUURUGHHHDNSHAJAKLDCLDDKFDJFRJGJGJTRGKGRKBGRBK AAAAAAAAAAGAGHHHTHRUGHGJ

sorry sorry. I reallt shoukd not be responding to confessions at 3am I am going FERAL I am BOUNCING off the walls I LOVE you 2g anon /p