#the story of an appointment

[folditdouble]

Women in Film Challenge 2024: [11/52] The Tolstoy Defense, dir. Dunya Smirnova (Russia, 2018)

Treat a Russian nicely, and you’ll come to regret it.

[ghost-proofbaby]

september love (e.m.)

eddie finds you awake on the first night he's home from the hospital, and wonders what you're thinking.

pairing: eddie munson x reader

warnings: mentions of canon ending of season 4, except eddie didn't die. mentions of hospital and medical procedures (in passing). sort of sad, sort of not. a little bit of angst? hurt/comfort. religious imagery (specific mentions of heaven).

wc: 1.7k+

an: this was just some sort of weird rambling upon seeing the poem mentioned above at like 11 pm? 1 am? who knows. time is a construct. also, reader is compared to a 'violent' dog/animal during eddie's recovery, and if you like this metaphor/vibe, then i strongly suggest and urge you to go read @myosotisa's fic Half Life. she does it far more beautifully than i ever could, and it is one of my favorite fics. ever.

Your head is on his chest. 

Your temple and your ear are flush with the soft cotton of his wrinkled t-shirt, the one he insisted upon sleeping on his first night home, and it’s all you can think about. The smell of week old laundry, the stubborn linger of a cologne gifted too long ago to remember the worn name of. A steady heartbeat that still pumps along a little too slow for your liking. The rise and fall of each promised breath that you force your lungs to pace themselves with. Just enough heat radiating off of him to keep you warm, here in bed, here in the dim light of twilight as he rests.

No tubes and no IVs to worry about. No nurses barging in every ten minutes. No beeping of a dozen machines to be your symphony tonight. 

No, you don’t need a machine now to keep track of his heart rate. You’ve learned to do that entirely on your own; your heart has learned how to match his with each dulled thump against the skin you cling to through this dingy old t-shirt.

It can’t be long after 3 AM, the moonlight almost as bright as a rising sun as it peeks itself in through the curtains of the window, as if whispering to check if you might still be awake.

And you are. And all you can think about, is your head on his chest. 

It’s been over a month since you’ve had this type of moment with Eddie. A moment where you’re truly, sincerely, utterly alone with him. Privacy had become a delicacy that you weren’t aware of the fragility of. You hadn’t understood its importance until you had to bask in its absence, always on edge for the next body to walk into the room and take the air out of your lungs. Always anxious for the next sound of news, always worried for the next shoe to drop. 

You’d forgotten what it had felt like for Eddie to twitch his fingers along your spine in his sleep, and for you to be the only witness to his quiet worship, even unconscious. 

Your lips part, and you almost consider whispering hard truths into the trembling night air. There’s a million and one dying words cementing your tongue to the roof of your mouth, and you know that every single one you could even manage to utter would only make you sound like a broken record. 

I’m sorry this happened to you.

I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.

I’m sorry I couldn’t prevent it. 

All things already said to him when he had been drifting in and out of consciousness in that hospital bed. All apologies already buried between muted sobs as you’d clutched his knuckles a little tighter than you should have, a little too selfish in the moment to wonder if it might be hurting him. The only thing on your mind had been keeping him, holding him, feeling him. He was alive – he was alive. And for the first seven nights of his endless rest, all you could wonder is for just how much longer that desperate prayer could ring true.

Would he leave you again? Would he lose the fight? 

You can’t recall without bias which one of you had been the true wounded animal in that little room, scented with burning bleach and cacophonies of nearby patients just beyond the curtains. 

Eddie, looking up at the police who had finally come once he woke, eyes big and teary as he’d tried to wrap his head around his new reality.

You, baring teeth and claws at them in the end, ready to bite hard at anyone who got too close.

It wasn’t just the police. It was everyone. 

It was the same juxtaposition between the two of you at those nurses who would interrupt the nights, always frowning so dutifully at the sight of your carefully curled figure at Eddie’s side. When friends and family came to visit, and they all had the same look of disbelief. As if they were about to tell you that you had imagined it all; he hadn’t survived, he hadn’t come back to you, you were imagining it. You’d been all bark and awaiting bite towards Steve Harrington and the newly revived Jim Hopper, all the same. Their figures bore no difference to you when it came to protecting what was so holy to you. Him, Eddie, here and alive. Eddie, who slept enough for the both of you those nights. The pain in your back from all the uncomfortable hours spent in that little chair at his bedside was insignificant, all the headaches you’d endured from the smell of iodine that still clung to the air after every surgery were pitiful attempts at the Universe removing you from him. 

If you could, you might try to recall your reaction when Dustin Henderson had babbled on through tears as to what had happened to Eddie when the two were left alone. His final act of heroism, or so he thought. 

But you can’t. Right here, right now, you aren’t capable of living in the past. You’ve been haunted enough these last few weeks, and all your numb mind can handle is counting the beats of his heart. Like the rhythm of a song – 1, 2, 3, 4. 1, 2, 3, 4. Staccato verses that you sometimes whisper in time, getting worried when they don’t follow the infallible metronome you’ve set for him. 

“You’re still awake.”

The murmur of his voice is a drink of cold water, startling in the dark greys and blues wrapping the two of you up. 

You lift your head ever so slightly against your better judgment, “Go back to sleep, love.” 

“Touche.” 

You can see his grin even through the shadows. It’s weak, not yet quite as vibrant as it once had been, but it’s there. He’s still alive. He’s still grinning. 

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” The pads of his fingertips are more intentional against your spine now, longer strokes and mindless shapes, “I’ve got a penny in my pocket if you tell me.”

His words are only slightly slurred. Probably residual of the pain medication they’d prescribed him.

“I wasn’t thinking about anything,” you say, and you mean it.

You hadn’t been thinking. You had just been listening to his heart and his breaths, feeling the weight of him beneath you. 

Little things you had taken for granted once upon a time. Never again, your soul aches as you let your head drop back to his chest carefully. Never again.

“You’re just laying awake, not thinking about anything, at…” he trails off, turning his cheek and squinting in the direction of the alarm clock across the room. The glow is dim, and you know you’ll have to change the batteries soon, “Four in the morning?”

4 AM. Last you had checked, it had been 3 AM. You hadn’t even noticed an hour had passed. 

“Is that really so hard to believe?” you smile up at him, and it’s just as sincere as your words had been. When his honey brown eyes meet yours, warmth drizzles down your entire being. Across your brain, down your spine, wrapping around your limbs. You could spend an eternity here, simmering in his warmth, content to your heart’s fullest capability. 

You’d almost lost him. You’d almost lost this warmth. 

You take a second to memorize his features. Studying him as if you didn’t already know every curvature, every freckle, every winkle better than you knew your own soul. You’re looking at him as if you may never look at him again, and he can tell. 

He doesn’t have to say that he gets it. His hand simply wanders up to cup your face, basking in you as you were him. Two souls, intertwining over overlapping legs and synchronized heartbeats, and he doesn’t have to say a word. 

The moment his fingers card into your baby hairs, you’re turning your mouth quickly to that warm palm. One, two, three kisses. Quick pecks, rapid succession. A secret language that you know he, and only ever he, can begin to understand. 

I love you.

I love you.

I love you. 

It drowns out all sorrow, all guilt, all hauntings. Your cracked lips, and the feeling of those lines across his palms. If there is a Heaven, it’s not somewhere in a pearly gated kingdom above. There are no hark angels and there is no bearded man awaiting. 

It’s here. It’s now. It’s 4 AM, in bed with your lover, getting to experience moments you’d come so close to losing for eternity. 

Do the poets know? They must. All the love, all the adoration, in both your bodies is too abundant for them to not feel it. To not write about it. 

“Go back to bed, love,” you repeat almost a perfect imitation of your first command when he had awakened, and this time, his eyelids flutter with your words, “I’m not gonna disappear between now and sunrise. I promise.” 

“No,” he quickly whispers back as his eyes fully shut, and your palms smooth out the wrinkles of the shirt to feel the ridges of scars hidden for now. Scars he’s ashamed of, for now. Scars you’d one day show all the love in the world to, sacred proof that he came back to you, only once he was ready. One day. “But you’re looking at me like I might.”

His words are heavy in the shades of violet now sinking into the room. But the moon is high in her sky, and the crickets are chirping to the East, and he’s right.

You’re terrified the daylight will steal him from you. You’re terrified the new day might tear away all that you’ve sunk your teeth into. 

“I’m not going to,” he mumbles around a yawn, arms slowly encasing you, pulling you in closer, “I’m not going anywhere. Yeah?��� 

He’s back with that warmth, coaxing you right back into heavenly notions with him. You let him; he baits you, and you follow. 

“Yeah.”

It’s a sigh. Of hopefulness, of relief, of belief. 

This time, the I love you is more than a prayer repeated in your mind. And he somehow manages to say it back, just as he begins to slip back under. Still holding you and hands still twitching where they rest against your back. 

Let daylight come. You aren’t capable of worrying about it, or stressing about all that has happened. You aren’t capable of thinking about anything right now, because only one thing matters as your temple and ear find his heartbeat once more. 

Your head is on his chest.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @mediocredreams @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin

@ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87

@thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea@kellsck

@cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking

@witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore

@mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog

@vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria@loveryanax@stylexrepp

@princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

@writinginthetwilight @trixyvixx @kittydeadbones @munson-addict @bluejeangenies

@cryingglightningg @joannamuns9n @missmarch-99 @rhirojo@findmeincorneliastreet

[scullcrusher101xd]

where were they going

[fbfh]

Imagine topping Leo in a chair?

LITERALLY love you for this. riding Leo in a chair is in like your top 5 favorite ways to ride Leo. your faces are so close together and he can feel every intimate rockwing bouncing squeeze of your tight juicy little hole gripping his throbbing cock like a vise. his eyes are so wide and his grip on your soft hips is nearly enough to leave pretty little fingertip bruises polkadotting your thighs (which he's obsessed with) and your hips (which he's also obsessed with) and your ass (are you sensing a pattern here????) and god everything you do drives him crazy but CHRIST the way you hold his face so sweetly in your pretty hands, so innocent and tender while simultaneously milking his cock for all he's got. and he'll give it to you. Leo will let you ride him in that chair that he can't look at after that without going half mast. he'll let you ride him until he's shooting blanks, until both of your cum drips on the floor, mixing in messy creamy beautiful puddles. Leo will throw his head back in pleasure, panting, chest heaving and giving you the best view of his perfect neck that's just begging to be covered in hickeys and bites. Leo will let you ride him in a chair until he passes out. can't walk. pounding down gatorade and liquid iv to try and rehydrate. and he'll thank you for it.

[tora-the-cat]

Once the war kicked off enough that tobirama realized his death was a real possibility he gathered his most trusted and valued shinobi in a room for an emergency war meeting, locked the doors, and said 'whos gonna be hokage next NOSE GOES' and hiruzen was condemned to the hat cause he didn't tap his nose fast enough. Fortunately danzo was injured at the time so he didn't participate. He was pissed though.

[spaceumbredoggos]

Horny aroaces exist. And for me, it’s frustrating. Since I feel no sexual attraction and don’t really know how to masturbate without feeling like I have to pee, I try to fantasize about sex be g forced on me because I can’t fathom initiating the horny myself. Basically, the only way I would actually fuck is if it were a fuck or die situation. I’m sex positive aroace. I don’t feel sexual or romantic attraction. I have to consciously initiate sexual desire in myself, and I’ve done so for years thinking it’s the only way I’ll be normal. I read all the dub/noncon Bill Cipher x Reader fics in AO3 and Tumblr just to feel a little bit of desire. And any time I try to initiate desire and sexual feelings, I feel like I have to pee and it’s uncomfortable. Also, hypnosis. Anything to do with hypnosis does it. And it feels so uncomfortable that o try to force myself to like it.

[stinkrascal]

TRANSCRIPT

Breanna: So... much... walking... Vladislaus: We are almost there. The embassy is just down this path. Breanna: [ groaning ] My feet huuuuuurt...

Breanna: Why's this place gotta be so far away? Vladislaus: It is a tradition which originated from the ancient witches.

Vladislaus: You see, the witches built their guilds deep in the forest to mask the stench of their brews. The vampires learned of this tradition and adopted it. If you sift through enough history, you will find this is the case much of the time.

Breanna: Oh. Okay. You sure do talk a lot. Vladislaus: I apologize. I am rambling, aren't I? Breanna: That's okay. I like it.

Frankie: 'Scuse me, little lady. I hope ya don't mind if I borrow your friend for a second.

Breanna: We're kinda in the middle of something. Vladislaus: [ murmurs ] What are you doing? I'm busy!

Frankie: Yeah, I been real busy tryna find your skinny ass. Nadia's been asking for you. Truth be told I was gettin' kinda worried. But I see now you was occupied.

Frankie: You must be the new vampy I been hearin' about. The name's Frankie, it's a real pleasure. Vladislaus: That's very good, now why don't you go on and--

Breanna: So you do know each other.

Vladislaus: [ clears throat ] Breanna, wait here a moment. I must speak with my... associate.

Breanna: You're telling me to leave?

Vladislaus: [ hissing uncontrollably ] What are you doing here?! Frankie: You really gotta get that under control little man.

Frankie: You're a real bitch-and-a-half to find, y'know that? Vladislaus: Mind yourself. Can't you see I am tending to my student?

Frankie: Oh yeah? That's what you're calling it now? Vladislaus: [ sighs ] I already met with Nadia. Tell her to leave me be. There's no need for this confrontation. Frankie: Confrontation? I'm asking how ya doin'. What's confrontational about that? We're pals, ain't we?

Vladislaus: ...I appreciate your concern, but this is an inopportune time. Frankie: How so? Vladislaus: Well... you see... how do I put this... delicately?

Vladislaus: [ sighs ] Can we discuss this later? Frankie: Oh, yeah? Vladislaus: Please, begone, let me tend to my student.

Frankie: Yeah, yeah. See ya around. Don't be a stranger. Vladislaus: ...Yes. Okay.

Frankie: Where'd your little friend go? Vladislaus: She's right behind-- Vladislaus: ...Breanna?

[living-la-vida-lesbian]

was going outside to check if the cicadas have arrived yet (they haven't, thank god) and found a dead robin. this feels like an omen.

[strongbeats]

How would your dream exam be like?

My dream exam!

Well, I would love to have a regular cardiologist. Someone who monitors my heart, has logins to the bluetooth devices I wear that monitor my heartrate constantly so they can check in whenever.

So we will have a good relationship, I show up for my weekly appointment and they start with a physical exam. I’m palpated all over, lungs and heart listened to for a long long time.

I undress while they ready the wires, connecting me to our machines. Monitors beep, speekers thud, and my heart appears on the screen as an ultrasound probe is pressed to my chest.

Then, we go over the spikes in my heartrate they recorded during the week. I tell them when I worked out, when I was nervous and what about, and when I was turned on and orgasmed. We listen and watch my heart thud faster as I get more embarrassed talking about my week, especially when I was touching myself and they ask about it.

Then, it’s time for my weekly stress test. I hop on the treadmill, a warm up, and get my heart thrumming fast in my chest. It thunders around the room, and we watch the valves snap on the ultrasound screen.

The exercise bike is different. It has a special seat that I’m already wet enough to slide right down onto, moaning as my heart jumps. I bike hard, bouncing on the seat and watching my heartrate climb higher and higher. 201 is the goal today. We make it as I cum, hard.

I lay back on the exam table and we watch my heart calm down, pausing and skipping as it slows to its regular resting rate.

Depending on the doctor’s schedule, we may take some private time the two of us to listen to my heart slamming my chest again, with a double headed steth so its intimate as they enter me again and get my heartrate climbing.

Hope that helps!

[baronessblixen]

Fictober Day 5: A New Beginning

Prompt: "It's a new day, let's go"

After their New Year's kiss, Mulder is ready to start the new day and their new life. Scully on the other hand? Would like some sleep. Rating: T, wc: 1,030

Tagging @today-in-fic @xfficchallenges

“It’s a new day,” Mulder’s voice echoes from somewhere close, “let’s go.” All Scully can do is groan; it’s entirely too early for words. The sun, she thinks, is still hiding, too. And that’s exactly what she’s planning on doing, too. Five more minutes is all she needs.

“You said that five minutes ago.” Minty puffs of air hit her cheek and she’s reminded of her dog Queequeg, though his breath never smelled this good.

“Didn’t,” she says into the pillow, her eyes still firmly closed. If she doesn’t open them, she can pretend she’s still sleeping. This is nothing more than a dream. After all, Mulder stars in most of them. The number of times she’s woken up after dreaming about Mulder and his mouth is outrageous.

“You did.” In her dreams, though, his mouth is usually otherwise occupied. They don’t talk much then. Or at least he doesn’t. She sighs, smiling as she remembers a particularly nice one from a few nights ago when she was missing him at Christmas.

“I heard that.” His voice is warm and so very close. She leans in, craving his closeness, figuring that after last night, she is allowed to indulge. They did, after all, sleep together for the first time. Sleep was all they did, however. Doctor’s orders. Mulder’s arm needs to heal until he’s allowed more strenuous activities. He pouted and she has to admit she almost gave in, but she knows how he gets, and she doesn’t want to risk it. Selfishly, she wants their first time to be when Mulder is capable of using both his arms.

“Mulder, the new day just started,” she mumbles into her pillow.

“Not just a day new day, Scully. A whole new year and anyway, I’m awake.”

“Why? We went to bed late.” It was long after midnight when they finally got here. Helping Mulder with his sling, stealing a few kisses here and there, didn’t help. Neither did Mulder’s stomach grumble so loudly that they shared a plate of scrambled eggs at 2 a.m. before Scully took his hand and led him into her bedroom.

It had been dark, but Mulder’s expression, even with painkillers running through his system, was solemn. This was a big step for them. He had made the first one when he kissed her in public at midnight. She was making the next one. The final one, she figured, they’d take together. Once Mulder was fully healed and not a second sooner (but also not a second later).

“I know you’re not a morning person,” he says softly, and all her exasperation just vanishes. This is the man she’s been in love with for longer than she cares to admit. She cracks open an eye and he might be a bit blurry, but there he is next to her with a big, toothy smile and spiky hair. His happiness is contagious.

“I started making coffee,” he says, pressing the softest kiss on the corner of her mouth.

“Mulder, morning breath,” she complains.

“I brushed my teeth.”

“But I didn’t.”

“I don’t care, Scully. You’re delicious either way.” She laughs at this, feeling freer than she has in a long time. Her laughter dies down, but a soft smile remains on her face, mirroring Mulder’s. Who, quite frankly, looks drugged.

“Have you taken your painkillers yet?” she asks him, her hand on his arm, gently stroking it. He shakes his head.

“Wanted to see you wake up.” He smiles sheepishly at her, making her want to kiss him again and again.

“In how much pain are you?”

“Right now? None. I’m looking at you.” Any other time, she might have rolled her eyes or call him crazy, but he’s so serious, so earnest.

“You still need to take them, though, all right?” He nods at her.

“Doing everything you say, Dr. Scully.”

“Since when?”

“Since last night.” Another toothy grin and she finds she can’t get enough of them. She can’t get enough of Mulder. Being woken up like this – even if it’s too early, even if she does not want to get up just yet – is preferable to him calling her in the middle of the night, saying she needs to get ready for a case in the middle of nowhere.

“Is that your New Year’s resolution?” she asks, scooting even closer to him. Soon, she’ll be lying on top of him. Somehow she thinks he wouldn’t even mind. His shoulder, however, might.

“I want that shoulder to heal as quickly as possible. I have plans.”

“Do you?” He nods, not taking his eyes off of her. He leans closer and captures her lips in a short, but thorough kiss.

“Morning breath, Mulder,” Scully repeated, winded. “Again, I don’t care. I couldn’t wait to wake up and kiss you again. Well, I couldn’t wait for you to wake up. You took your sweet time.”

“Some of us need more than four hours a night.”

“So, breakfast is out of the question? Last night you’d say we should go visit your mom today.” ‘We’. That simple word warms her heart. And he had listened to her.

“We should,” she says softly. “She’s going to be happy, seeing you.”

“Even with this?” He points at his arm still in its sling. “And this?” He gently touches the abrasions on her throat that she’d forgotten about.

“That’s what turtlenecks are for.”

“Happy to know you own turtlenecks.” He waggles his eyebrows at her.

“We don’t have time to discuss possible uses of turtlenecks if you’re serious about getting breakfast and visiting my mom.”

“We could save time showering together?”

“No shower for you today.”

“Do you think your mom will still accept me when I stink?”

“She loves you,” Scully says, stretching. Mulder’s eyes follow her every movement, hoping to catch a glimpse of naked skin. “Let’s get you your painkillers and then we’ll see what happens today, okay?”

“Can I get a kiss with my painkillers?” Scully bites her lip to stop another smile.

“If you let me brush my teeth first.”

He lets her; it's not just a new day, she realizes, but a whole new beginning.

[tasteleeknow]

sorry life has been a lot recently. i’m still here.

[ghost-proofbaby]

are you scared yet?

welcome, ghouls and freaks, to my take on the infamous kinktober. follow along with me for the next five weeks as we go through all the dirtiest of fantasies (as well as some softness, because it's me) that october and this season can bring. no fictional character is safe, no kink unturned.

let's get horny spooky, friends.

WEEK 1: VAMPIRIC DESIRES

everyone knows i love a vampire, but just how much love can we show one of the best metaphors of all time for all-consuming love? let's find out.

WEEK 2: IS IT TOO MUCH?

because everyone loves a classic over-stimulation kink. but just how far can we take it?

WEEK 3: THE HUNT

category is: primal play. what better way to spend a perfect october evening than to be chased through the woods with your lover, heart pounding as you, the prey, feel the predator creeping closer and closer?

WEEK 4: SWEET LIKE CANDY

trick or treat! it's your lucky day: you get a treat. a brief intermission from all the smut, just to focus on all the possible cute scenarios we could get into with our favorite fictional characters.

WEEK 5: SOMEBODY'S WATCHING ME

did someone order voyeurism, with a side of threesomes? no? well, i did.

[graveyarrdshift]

tell me why (2020)

[hotdrinks]

I meant WHO is Jon?

A fella

[ID a very simplified sketch of Jon sims sitting with his legs straight out, holding a tape recorder and frowning deeply. Three disembodied eyes hover behind him and look at him. End ID]

[dreamyyesenia]

The Joy of Life - A season comes to an end - Part 2: Trouble in Paradise

As mentioned in Part 1, Rosemary closed up the bakery early to spend time with Jasper. The day before, the agency had called Jasper and asked him to come to Del Sol Valley asap to fill a missing main role. This was not fitting for their plans for the weekend. Rosemary had been looking forward to celebrating New Year’s Eve and Jasper’s birthday back to back. He’d told her about the role right away and that he’d already accepted. The teens would be attending prom anyways, so in Jasper’s mind, they’d just celebrate the following day. Maybe he’d even make it back in time. He didn’t understand why Rosemary was so upset and wanted to make it up to her with wohoo which riled her up further.

They ended up getting in a big argument and Rosemary told him he didn’t even need to come back in the night. She’d make sure to have a good time without him… This really hurt Jasper and he left for Del Sol Valley early. Rosemary was never happy when he left, which he knew of course but he didn’t understand why this would be such an issue for her then…

Side Note: Rosie had never been supportive of Jasper’s career as an actor. Main reasoning was the company he had at work, which was no one else than his past flirts Judith Ward and Jillian Kraft. To top it off, Brian Blake (her ex) would frequently be a part of Jasper’s actors/actresses hangout group too… Jasper hadn’t taken part in as many projects as he’d have wanted, which was all to keep Rosie at bay. Rosie wasn’t a jealous person but she still feared the influence the other celebrities might have on Jasper.

Finn and Briar had a blast at prom. Most of their friends didn’t attend because of New Year’s Eve and it wasn’t their prom anyways. But Briar enjoyed slow dancing with Aden and Finn got a strong attraction sentiment to Bria. They came home right before midnight though to celebrate with their mum 🩷 Who was sitting in the living room alone and waiting for a message from Jasper.

Side Note 2: This entire dispute was not staged by me! Rosie started arguing autonomously, so I went with that. Their relationship changed from “wholesome” to “strained” unfortunately 😕 One of Jaspers traits is hot-headed and though Rosie is compassionate, she can throw a little temper tantrum too! So they do fight from time to time and I wanted to display that. It’s not about who’s wrong or right in this either. I like cozy gameplay but all my stories have some kind of little or big conflicts they need to overcome. I want my gameplay to feel cozy but still realistic, you know? But one thing is for sure, there’s always a Happily Ever After because I need some fairytale vibes 😄🧚🏼‍♀️

[igotsnothing]

Beginning/Previous/Next

*To my Friend of Mystery who sent me that ask for some spice: here's how the evening unfolded (Pillowfort link-NSFW).