#i also don't have a clear mental image of my own face

[denpa-dere]

i'm curious about my fellow pixel fuckers and self-shippers!

#i definitely have some degree of faceblindness #i often can't tell people apart #i also don't have a clear mental image of my own face #attraction for me is largely based on personality/shared history/voice #i think this is related to why i find it easier to be attracted to fictional/drawn characters than real life people #tumblr polls #denpa's transmissions

[mtkay13]

The one and only Qi Ye trio!

Details on the painting, meta and more below!

So this piece is actually a "remake" of a much older drawing that I made right after I had finished reading Qi Ye:

First, I want to elaborate on the drawing itself. I usually don't like to detail the symbolism and ideas that I put in my art, simply because I don't want to impose a reading and I'd rather everyone gets their own; but following some discussions I have decided to do so for this one.

The main theme of this illustration is glory, power, and the ascention towards it. The principal symbol of it is, of course, the stairs going up. I used light, directly, colours and positioning to signify each character's relationship to those themes.

Helian Yi is the one in the light, ascending upwards, in red clothing. Helian Yi's power, as future emperor, is in the light, visible, going towards the heavens as the son of heaven himself--to enact his heavenly duty. Part of his face is in the shadows, and his being casts a broad shadow behind him for, of course, a lot has to happen in the shadows for him to reach the throne. He's looking behind as his ascension comes with dread and paranoia, never being able to fully trust anyone.

Zhou Zishu is entirely in the shadows, doesn't exist in the light. He's standing tall on the stairs but not facing upwards because his own way towards power isn't following the traditional path of having one's name being remembered in historical records. He is at his most powerful concealed in the shadows and doesn't look directly, his gaze unreadable.

Jing Beiyuan is sitting on the stairs, uninterested with the climb towards power itself, uninterested in the glory. The thin line of light on his figure means that among Helian Yi's closest allies, he's the one using his title and influence; light grazes him even if he doesn't want it to. His presence in Helian Yi's shadow signifies how he, along with Zishu, is quite literally behind HLY's ascension. His gaze is knowingly directed towards the watcher.

The main reason I decided to repaint it was because I wanted it to match my current style and, more importantly, my current mental image/character design for them. Jing Qi barely changed since my idea of him was fairly clear from the start, but Helian Yi and Zishu went through much bigger changes.

For Helian Yi, it was mainly a question from taking him out of Jin Wang's robes to get him his own. I really like Jin Wang's wardrobe in SHL, which is why I initially wanted it for HLY, but nowadays it simply doesn't correspond to how I picture him anymore. My understanding and/or envisioning of Da Qing's fashion has changed a bit as well, so I wanted to reflect that. In the original, he more seemed like a kid in vaguely chique robes that were too big for him LOL. His face was afforded a bit of refinement as well, especially since my big Qi Ye spread.

Jing Qi's robes are just a tad less flashy somehow--which wasn't so much planned as just... another design I had in mind. I still really like the first version of the robes but, oh well. His face is a bit more defined now, and overall more details in the quality of his clothing and in his hair piece.

Zhou Zishu...... well, haha. His original design was quite unpolished--a vague mix of SHL!Zishu and some random hakama I barely worked on. He was also very slim and had big eyes, which I just don't see anymore. He's bigger now, by quite a bit, both in height and musculature, and I made him look just a bit older as well--simply because he is older than HLY and JBY by a few years. I much prefer his current expression which is a tad more vicious but also a bit harder to read (I think). His robes, hair shape are much better defined and thought-out, and I am happy with the subtle shading on his face.

That's it!! Thanks for readiinngggg as always!

#qi ye meta #qi ye #helian yi #jing beiyuan #zhou zishu

[deandoesthingstome]

Holiday Angel

Pairing: CEO!August Walker x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 18K; Um. You’re welcome? Get some snacks and water.

@fvckinghenrycavill asked nicely, so I'm releasing this earlier than planned. Also, I think @mayloma might be waiting patiently?

Warnings: age difference (m 40′s, f 20′s; it’s your best friend’s dad for god’s sake), mention of cheating, mention of phone sex, masturbation (f), light!dom (m)/sub (f), praise kink, lingerie, oral sex (m and f receiving), fingering, p in v sex in various positions, protected sex, light bondage, spanking and ass play; if this doesn’t sound like something you’d be into, I won’t be offended if you scroll on by

A/N: Let's be clear: I've only seen MI:Fallout once. I really only know August from Tumblr. This is an AU, where he is not a traitorous anarchist. I also am not comfortable writing a strict dom, so please take a softer August than you may be used too. Additionally, you are a US college Junior in this story (21-ish). Don't worry, I'm not 21 either. Trust me. It's okay. This is a fantasy.

I've also been extremely self-indulgent here. You're gonna see some names you might recognize. You might wonder what college you go to, where in the US you are, or what year it is. I have taken many liberties. Please absolutely enjoy them. (And if anyone was following along with this post, you may notice a scene change. Trying out my inclusivity options.)

And I have a Spotify playlist I used for various scene inspiration if you're interested.

Disclaimer: I don’t own August Walker (could anyone really tie him down?), but I do own these words and this story. Do not repost as your own. Likes, Reblogs, and Comments are more than welcome. It’s how I get my nourishment.

Header by me. Dividers by the ever wonderful and giving @firefly-graphics.

You dropped the Blue Book for your last final on Professor Marshall's desk and skipped out of the room with glee, suppressing the urge to turn back and grab one more mental image of the grumpy professor for the road.

Christmas break was officially on!

Gemma was waiting in the loading zone outside McKinney Hall, her brand new Audi packed with both your bags and ready for the five hour road trip home.

"Bitch, what took you so long?" she teased, knowing you were actually a little early. You had breezed through the test and ran back to the dorms to meet her. She handed you your favorite iced coffee indulgence, a special treat for making it through the week.

"Let's hit it!" you shouted, turning up the volume on the Spotify playlist Gemma had primed and ready to go.

You swapped driving duties halfway, stopping at a drive-thru to grab french fries to supplement the cut fruit and snacks you packed for the trip.

"God, I am craving salt right now!" Gemma exclaimed.

"Auntie on the way?" you sympathized.

"Yesss," Gemma groaned. "And Mikey wants to meet up first thing when he flies in on Sunday. God I hope she gets lost on the way!"

"How's that been going? Long distance and all."

You were glad you and Gemma had decided NOT to room together again after the fiascos of Freshman and Sophomore year. It was only through the saving grace of several grueling classes that kept you library or study group bound for a good portion of the time that you had been able to overcome the petty drama.

It was Gemma's father who had actually suggested she move off campus alone this year and you were pleased to find a lighter class load that allowed you to spend more quality time with your childhood best friend without wanting to rip her face off every five minutes. He was so wise, that Mr. Walker.

But living apart kept you from knowing every single detail of each other's lives, so the drive was a perfect time to catch up on the minutiae.

"It's been weird, honestly. I mean, hooking up last summer was totally unexpected. I can't believe he finally let Chelsea go, but what a fucking night that was!" Gemma squealed as you tamped down your jealousy.

Everyone in high school had the hots for Mike, and you were no exception. But Gemma caught his eye at the last hurrah before heading back to college this past September and, well, girl code. Even if your tastes in men hadn’t already started changing, he was off your list forever now. Especially because he had actually seemed hellbent on making a true go of it with her, promising nightly calls that unfortunately turned weekly as the semester dragged on.

"He's seemed a little distant lately. Distracted. That missed call on Halloween really had me questioning everything he said about giving us a shot. But he's been making it up to me. The phone sex..."

"Stop. Please. I don't want to hear about him slapping one out over the phone," you laughed.

"He sounds so sexy when he comes. Long distance or otherwise."

"Ugh, god. Stop!"

"What? Like you don't love it too! What's up with you and Charlie?"

"Fuck him,” you scoffed. “D'you know, I caught him with Brigette?"

"Your roommate Brigette?"

"Yup. Right before finals started. I need to find a new living situation for next semester, stat!"

"God, why didn't you say something??? Are you okay?"

"I'm surprisingly fine. Things hadn't been so hot lately and honestly, I just don't think he's for me."

"What, missionary all the way?"

You both laughed until the tears were running.

"You should've seen his face when I asked to be on top once. It was like I killed his dog or something."

"Jesus, yeah. You're better off. You need a real man," Gemma declared.

You laughed again, but it came out with a hitch in your throat. A real man was right.

"What was that?" Gemma asked.

"What was what?" you feigned innocence, and held your breath.

"You laughed like you're hiding something. You got a thing going with one of your professors?"

You exhaled as normally as possible. Easy enough to fib your way out of this one with an opening like that.

"God, nothing's going on. But have you seen Professor Marshall? I alternately congratulate and kick myself for choosing a criminal justice major. That man is so fine to look at," you let out a whistle. "It's distracting!"

"So I've heard. Think it's too late to switch majors?"

"Why would I?"

"Not you, silly! Me," Gemma laughed.

"Your father would be so disappointed if you didn't finish your business degree. Who's he gonna leave the company to?" You winked at her, knowing she wanted nothing to do with it. She was only playing along, hoping to find a college boyfriend that would be able to keep her in the lifestyle to which she was accustomed.

You didn't think Mikey was it, but hey. Neither your circus nor your monkeys. You chatted for a bit longer before Gemma dropped into a light sleep. Girl could never last in the car as a passenger on long drives. The hum of the road put her out if she wasn’t in charge of driving.

While she slept, you thought about Mr. Walker. 

When did this infatuation start? You’d met Gemma, and by extension Mr. Walker, in 5th grade after your parents had moved across town and into a new school district. Mrs. Walker had already passed and you don’t know why Gemma’s father never remarried, but you also never saw or heard about him bringing a woman home to meet her.

In high school, when you really started paying attention to boys, you began to notice how good looking Mr. Walker was. But the most you ever hoped for was to meet a boy who would grow up to be as handsome. It wasn’t until lately, when some of your college professors had piqued your interest, that you began to fantasize about him, too. This might be a long week.

You pulled up the scenic drive and parked in front of the Walker residence around 8pm. Gemma blinked her eyes opened and stretched before getting out of the car.

"You sure it's okay I stay here until my parents get back?" you leaned over the gear shift to call out the door. "I can't believe they scheduled a whole house reflooring right before Christmas and then skipped town on me to boot."

"It's totally fine. Dad's probably gonna be busy 24-7 at the office so we'll have the run of the house. And thank God for heated pools!"

You kept your mouth shut, knowing if you showed any interest at all in why Mr. Walker would be so busy this close to the end of the year your face would probably melt off from the heat you felt every time you thought about him lately. Let alone the image of him in swim trunks in the pool. Or not in swim trunks.

Gemma leaned back into the open passenger door and you snapped out of it.

"Coming?"

You turned your whole body to open the driver door, desperate to hide from her the wanton desire you were sure adorned your face. Coming, indeed.

You both grabbed your bags from the back seat and headed up the pristine sidewalk towards the stately mid-century modern mansion Gemma called a "house". The thing could host a Hollywood premiere party and was decorated with such understated glamor you wouldn't be surprised if it would play backdrop to such a party one day. Or maybe a movie set.

The tall, rich wooden door had a thin vertical metal handle stretching from a quarter of the way down the right side, stopping a quarter of the way up from the bottom. A warm glow streamed through the large panels of windows stretching across the front of the house and exposing the elegantly decorated Christmas tree in the front living room surrounded by sleek, minimal furniture.

When Gemma finally tapped in the key code and opened the door, you stepped into the flagstone entryway and smiled at the white lights nestled in the pine garland covering the banisters of the floating stairs leading up to the master bedroom and sitting area loft, then down to the basement holding several guest rooms, the fitness and media rooms, as well as Gemma's room.

Another couple guest room suites could be found on the main entry level along with the custom gourmet kitchen and pantry, dining area, mud and laundry rooms. You knew Mr. Walker's home office was somewhere on this level as well, though you'd never dared venture down the hall to find it. He’d always made it very clear it was off limits. 

You were dying to sink into the oversized conversation couch that surrounded the sunken floor of the family room in the back of the house and stare off into the fire or out the back windows onto the deck overlooking the pool but Gemma called for you to follow her downstairs first.

"I have to get out of these clothes and then we'll DoorDash."

"No need, sweetheart." Your heart stopped as you heard the deep voice call from upstairs. "I made dinner, it's just warming in the oven. I'll get plates ready for you both, so hurry settling in."

"Dad! I thought you'd still be at the office!" Gemma exclaimed, dropping her bags and heading to the landing to give her father a hug and turning her head away to accept his kiss on the cheek.

"Well, I couldn't let you two eat cold takeout. They can never keep it warm on the drive out here." He turned, letting go of Gemma and opening his arms to you in what should have been a normal welcoming gesture if you hadn’t just been fantasizing about him half the ride home. "Good to see you again."

You suppressed a flustered squeak and pressed your lips together to stifle the drool, thankful Gemma was now behind her father and couldn't see your face as you reached for the hug. But he could. Did. For sure. Fuck.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Walker. That's very kind of you," you managed to reply while trying not to inhale his scent too deep.

"It was nothing," he let go of you and stepped back, slipping his hands slowly into the pockets of his dress slacks.

Were you staring at his muscular forearms, visible below the line of his crisp, white rolled up sleeves? God, you were. Get a fucking grip.

"We'll be right back, Dad. Thanks."

Gemma led you downstairs and sent you off to your regular overnight room down the hall from hers. You were grateful both rooms had their own bathrooms so you didn't have to pass her on your way to splash cold water on your face.

How were you going to survive these next few days before your parents came back with your aunt, uncle, and cousin for Christmas? Gemma wasn't wrong about needing a real man. You'd put up with immature boys all through high school.

Once you started college, a series of gorgeous, educated older men led your lectures over the last few years and your desires had slowly shifted. It really was no problem that Charlie had cheated on you. Perfect opportunity to drop him and move on to something more meaningful. And hopefully someone more experienced.

Has Mr. Walker been in your sights all along? No. No way. But here he was now. It wasn't right to think about him this way, but fuck he looked good tonight, that fluffy curl hanging down and that porn 'stache. What else could you call it? He even had a little of the scruff you'd really enjoyed seeing on Professor Marshall. You wondered how it would feel between your... You heaved a sigh. This can not happen.

You splashed another round of cold water and then dried your face, swapped your jeans for light cotton joggers, and then climbed the stairs to join Gemma and her dad in the dining room.

"There you are," Mr. Walker announced, standing at the head of the table with a bottle in his hand. "We thought you'd gotten lost." He flashed what felt like a knowing smirk as you froze in your tracks.

"Dad, don't be daft. She knows her way around the house." She turned to you from her seat to the right of her father and motioned to your usual guest spot across the table from her, to the left of Mr. Walker.

"Oh, let me have my fun, Gemma. Would you girls like some wine?"

"'Girls', dad? Really?"

"What would you prefer?"

"Ladies?"

Mr. Walker chuckled as he picked up the bottle and poured two glasses of wine.

"Right then. There you go, ladies."

He tilted his head to the side and glanced at you as he split his arms and passed the glasses over by the stems. You did your best to grab the bowl, but his fingers shifted up slightly as he released your glass. You heated again as they brushed the back of your hand and you took a sip immediately, trying to cover the pleasure that had to be apparent on your face.

You set the glass down and picked up your knife and fork, preparing to dig into the plate of luscious looking food in front of you. You took a bite and tried to suppress it, but a groan slipped out of your mouth as your eyes rolled closed. You closed your lips and chewed the fork-tender meat, marveling at it melting away in your mouth. When you finished swallowing, you opened your eyes to find Gemma staring at you, mouth agape.

You turned your head to find Mr. Walker's piercing blue eyes trained on yours as he leaned casually against the arm of the oversized dining chair.

"Enjoying it?"

You blinked and remembered where you were, who you were with.

"Mr. Walker, these short ribs are divine!" you declared. 

"Jesus. You act like you never ate a home-cooked meal before," Gemma snapped.

"Sorry, I just," you shook your head to clear the fog. "I mean you’ve always been a great cook, I've just never tasted anything like this."

"It's good, right?" Mr. Walker asked. “I’ve been expanding my repertoire lately.”

"It really is. Oh my god I'm so embarrassed! Gemma, I'm sorry. That was..."

You stared at her across the table with a silent plea, your eyes begging her to say something, anything. You were about to give up completely when Gemma burst into laughter, tears streaming down her face.

"You absolute freak!" she laughed and you let out a breath and laughed with her.

You kept your shit together during the rest of the dinner for the most part. But Mr. Walker poured another few glasses of wine and you could feel yourself getting tipsy.

"I think I need to head to bed, but do you need any help in the kitchen, Mr. Walker?" you asked.

"No, but thank you for the offer. Be careful down those stairs." Did he wink at you?

"See you in the morning!" Gemma called, with a lightness that told you she had well and truly forgiven the awkwardness of just an hour or so ago.

You peeled off your thin sweater and discarded your bra, leaving just a lacy camisole and your joggers. You pulled back the thick pile of covers on the bed and were about to climb in, when a wave of thirst overtook you.

You opened the bedroom door and stepped softly into the hall. The Walkers always kept a mini-fridge stocked in the media room down here. You froze as you entered the doorway.

"Oh, Mr. Walker! I was just..."

"I thought you might want a bottle of water for your nightstand."

You exhaled a small laugh as you both spoke at the same time, but then froze again as you watched the way he held the bottle. Low, at his hips. One hand on the base, the other fiddling with the cap.

" Wh..where's Gemma?" you practically whispered, unable to get your voice to cooperate suddenly.

"She's finishing up the dishes. I’m sure she'll be right down," he replied with a firm, confident tone. "Did you want this?"

He gave a slight nod in the direction of his hands, where you saw he was now tipping the bottle back and forth, before finally offering it to you with an outstretched arm and hand gripped firm around the plastic form.

"Here. Take it."

You nodded and reached for the bottle, once again trying to avoid his touch. Once again finding your fingers brushing against his.

“There you go.” 

Your stomach dropped along with his voice as you realized what a terrible idea staying here was. There was no way you were going to be able to hide your desire from Gemma if her father was going to keep acting like this. Time stood still while you tried to move something, anything. Your eyes away from his. Your mouth to say thank you. Your feet to head back to your room.

"Let's get you back to bed," he stepped forward, turning you with a hand on your shoulder, then sliding that hand down your side to your waist and guiding you down the hall.

He stopped at the door frame, pressing you gently into the room. You almost moaned at the loss of his touch as you stepped out of his reach and sat on the edge of the bed, finally finding your voice.

"Thank you, Mr. Walker."

"Sweet dreams." He absolutely winked at you. Fuck.

He pulled the door shut, leaving you all alone with the crazy feelings stirring inside you. This is your best friend's father. You reclined back in the bed. Snap out of it. Girl code isn't just about boyfriends. Pulled the covers over you. Besides, he's like, twice your age, at least. Stared at the dark ceiling, while your fingers shifted under the covers and down your belly. But the way he looked at you tonight. Slipped a hand past the waistband of your pants. He wasn't just being polite. Tentatively touched the heat between your legs.

He was flirting, there was no denying it. Maybe you could have written off the hand brush at dinner, but he was showing off with the bottle of water. He wanted you to look.

You swirled a finger gently through your folds, gathering the slick and spreading it around. You thought about his mischievous grin, his tailored pants, and his strong hands before plunging two fingers deep inside, pulling them back out slowly to circle your clit.

"More," you whispered to yourself, then obliged with fingers deep again, arching your back for better positioning.

"Right there," you moaned quietly, letting the fantasy circle around your head. You pumped in and out, curling deep to find your sweet, spongy spot while you toyed with the idea of letting him touch you.

"Please," you begged, pressing a thumb against your clit, twitching with anticipation. You couldn't wait any longer.

You pulled your slick fingers from your clenching walls and focused all your attention on your clit, rubbing tenderly while you imagined his mouth on you.

"God, Mr. Walker!" you gasped, finally reaching your peak. "August," you whispered, rolling to your side and clasping the blanket close around you while you worked to slow your heart rate before drifting off to sleep.

You woke late on Saturday. It was 10 am when you looked at the clock. The floor to ceiling blackout curtains had really done their job.

You skipped the shower, even though you craved one after the long drive and your private activity the night before. Instead, you just washed your face and wrapped a thin robe around yourself before heading up to find breakfast. Gemma was sitting at the kitchen counter typing away on her phone, empty cereal bowl in front of her.

“Oh, good. You’re up! And you didn’t shower already, perfect. Grab a bite and then let’s hang in the hot tub this morning. I have a kink in my neck from that car ride I need to work out!”

You poured yourself a bowl of cereal and mug of steaming coffee and took a seat in a low back leather barstool next to Gemma. She let you eat in silence while she finished her text conversation.

“Ugh,” she exclaimed, slamming the phone on the counter. “I can’t believe Mike got put on shift at the end of finals week.”

“That why he couldn’t get home already?”

“Yeah, says it’s like a right of passage for all new bartenders at the club. Business is light, but they schedule you with a threat that you’ll lose shifts the following semester if you don’t stay to serve the stragglers and the few locals who pop in the bar once the college crowd clears out for break.”

“But he’ll be home tomorrow, right?”

“Yep. You done?” She watched for your nod. “Well get changed and let’s hit the tub.”

You headed back downstairs to your room and fished your bikini out of your luggage. After changing, you threw the curtains aside and pulled open the sliding door leading to the heated pool deck. Gemma must have had her suit on under her robe because she was already soaking by the time you stepped outside.

You slipped into the bubbling water, immediately grateful for the suggestion. The warmth began to work on your own tension you hadn’t even realized you were holding and you let out a little moan.

“I hear you on that,” Gemma stated. “I hate long car rides! They fuck with my spinal alignment.”

“Yeah, this water feels so good.” You closed your eyes and tilted your head back against the side of the tub, sinking as deep as you could without dipping your face in the water. You snapped up when you heard the splash and blinked your eyes open to see a figure skimming under the water from the far deep end of the pool to the shallow end closer to where you sat in the hot tub.

When Mr. Walker popped his head above water and hung on the side of the pool to say good morning, you were ever so grateful for the steam hiding any lust in your eyes. 

“Hey dad.” Gemma turned from her spot to face him. 

“Are you ladies getting in the pool this morning?” he smirked.

“No, I think we’re just gonna soak and then go veg in front of the TV for a bit,” she replied, hanging off the side of the hot tub.

“Alright, well, I’m headed out to check on a few sites this afternoon. Should I plan on you for dinner or have you made other arrangements?” Mr. Walker asked.

“Dinner here sounds great, dad. Thanks.”

Gemma turned back to you as you watched Mr. Walker duck back into the water and begin a series of laps. You fluttered your eyes closed so she couldn’t see how blown your pupils were, watching him first speak with Gemma and then propel his body through the water. God, he was practically naked over there. You were practically naked over here. You leaned your head back again to pray for relief.

When you both felt loose and relaxed enough, you climbed out of the hot tub, grabbing an oversized towel from the lidded basket next to the pool to dry off. You were just bending over to reach your lower legs and feet when you heard the splash of footsteps on the pool stairs.

“Right then, that’s me done. And don’t you two load up on snacks while I’m gone. You’ll spoil your appetite.”

You held your breath as he leaned next to you to grab a towel, another mysterious smirk on his face as he rose to face you. You stood and pulled your towel up your body, pretending to wipe non-existent water from your face just to avoid any further eye contact. His body was amazing and his wet swim trunks were clinging to his thighs. If Gemma caught you staring, you were done for.

When it felt safe, you lowered the towel from your face and watched him pad up the staircase leading to the main level before entering the house. Your heart was beating a million miles per hour, but luckily Gemma was already heading inside herself.

You showered finally, then donned some comfy loungewear and joined Gemma in the media room where she’d already cued up Netflix.

“Ready to binge The Witcher?” she asked. “They just released the new season last night.”

“Ugh, that man could raw-dog me all day and night!” 

“Where is the lie???!!!???” she laughed with you.

You grabbed some water from the mini-fridge, doing your best to ignore the scene from last night that popped into your head as you settled into an oversized, reclining theater seat. Gemma paused the autoplay on the third episode and asked if you wanted some lunch. You were hungry, alright. But yeah, a sandwich sounded good.

There were still at least 3 more episodes of the season left, when Mr. Walker called down around 6.

“I’m starting dinner now. It’ll be ready shortly.”

“We’ll help,” Gemma called and flipped off the tv. You both headed upstairs to the kitchen. Gemma began to set the dining table, so you sat at the kitchen counter and asked what you could do.

“You could prep that basil for me,” Mr. Walker replied. “Here, like this.”

You watched rapt, as he proceeded to show you how he wanted you to tear the leaves gently into small pieces. When he was sure you had it right, he drizzled some olive oil in a large shallow saute pan and waited for it to warm before tossing in two packages of gnocchi. 

He stirred them around for a few minutes and when he was satisfied by their state, he ladeled them out into a serving bowl. He scooped out a few and offered them over the counter to you and Gemma. You each plucked a warm, crispy potato pillow from the spoon and you sighed when you popped it in your mouth, happy that Gemma was making the same noise and you wouldn’t be called out this time. Something about food with Mr. Walker was becoming increasingly sensual to you.

He added some more olive oil and then butter to the pan, waiting for it to melt before pouring in the heirloom cherry tomatoes he’d asked you to dry off from the colander in the deep sink. He sprinkled in some salt and gave them a quick stir, then turned to the open the fridge, pulling out a bottle of wine.

He poured three glasses set on the counter and pushed two towards you and Gemma with his fingers pressed on the base of the stems. Then he raised his own glass.

“I’m glad you’re home, sweetheart,” he tipped his glass to Gemma, and then toward you. “Both of you, of course.”

You took a small sip, watching over the rim as he did the same and you held your breath while your eyes trailed along his throat as he swallowed, hoping Gemma didn’t notice you staring. 

The three of you chatted amicably, while Mr. Walker stirred the tomatoes in the pan until they began to burst, at which point he dumped the crispy gnocchi back into the pan. You watched in awe as he lifted the heavy pan with one hand and gave it a good toss, shifting it back and forth with subtle little wrist flicks that nestled the gnocchi into the simple sauce. Then he stirred in some fresh mozzarella pearls and some of the hand-torn basil, giving you a wink of thanks, before popping the whole thing under the broiler. 

He asked Gemma to carry the salad and offered you the last pour of wine before sending you off to the dining room with a fresh bottle. Seated at your usual spot, you piled a moderate amount of the bubbly dish onto your plate, inhaling the heavenly scent of basil and tomato. Mr. Walker raised an eyebrow as he held a small bowl of shaved parmesan in your direction. When you nodded, he held the dish for you while you sprinkled the cheese over your plate, eyes watching you the whole time. The fact that he simply turned and handed the bowl to Gemma to let her hold it while she sprinkled her own cheese was not lost on you.

The white wine wasn’t affecting you the way the red had the night before, so once dinner was over, you and Gemma helped clean up and then headed downstairs to finish out the season before going to bed. 

You woke yourself up in the middle of the night with your hand down your pants again, teasing your slit while you recalled the dream. 

A rugged man with long silvery hair helped you down off his horse and led you to a blanket in a clearing near a steamy pool of water. From a small bowl, he plucked a tiny ripe tomato with his fingers and gently pressed it into your waiting mouth. You sighed as the tomato burst when you bit into it and shivered when he bent over to lick the juice running down your chin with the tip of his tongue before pressing you to your back and holding you down with a heavy kiss. You whispered his name into the night once again as you came. 

“August.”

In the morning, you peeled the covers back and stretched your way out of bed. The pleasure of the mid-slumber release you gave yourself last night still tingled in your mind. You showered and dressed, then climbed the stairs again searching for Gemma and hopefully breakfast, missing that her door was still closed. You stopped short seeing Mr. Walker alone in the kitchen.

“Good morning. Did you sleep alright?” He spoke with a suspicious tone. It was like he knew. How could he know?

You swallowed and tried to find your voice. “I did. Thank you.”

“Coffee?” He held the french press up and grabbed a mug when you nodded. “I have a frittata here, too, if you’d like some.” 

“Yes, please. Smells amazing,” you inhaled and closed your eyes slowly, remembering the meals from the last few nights as well. “You’re a really good cook, Mr. Walker.” 

“I certainly try,” he winked at you. “So what do you two have going on today?”

“I don’t know. Mike gets in this afternoon and I think Gemma wants to meet up with him.”

“Will you be joining them?”

You blinked and swallowed. How do you tell a father that his daughter is probably going to be getting railed six ways to Sunday tonight, so no, you wouldn’t be joining them?

“Uh…”

“Morning!” Gemma’s cheery greeting broke the tension and you were thankful you didn’t have to tell Mr. Walker that the reunion tonight was for Gemma alone. She gave her father a peck on the cheek and poured herself a cup of coffee.

“Gemma, sweetheart, are you meeting Mike tonight?” Mr. Walker asked.

“I am!” she grinned.

“Alone?”

“Yeaahhhh…” she answered, just short of shy. “Sorry dad, I probably should have said something earlier. But you can handle a night without me, right?”

Mr. Walker stared at her for a moment and suddenly all the tension was back in the room. He had to know what was going to go on tonight. How could he not?

“I’m sure I can figure something out. But please, be safe.”

You pursed your lips and widened your eyes as you turned away from them. Was he saying what it sounded like he was saying? Did he have no illusions about the extracurricular activities of his one and only daughter? Sure, she was of age and he had to know what she got up to away from home, but still. If you had to tell your parents you were going to be skipping a night home with them to get it on with your boyfriend, you’d probably melt into the furniture.

“Always am,” Gemma exclaimed cheerfully. 

“Alright, well, I’m off. I have some work to finish up here and then a few more site visits to make today.”

“On a Sunday, dad, really?”

“We’re very close to closing this deal and it has to be done before the end of the year. I want to be sure the due diligence is correct so I don’t get stuck with a billion dollar dud when everything is said and done.”

“You’re obsessed.”

“About the things I care about, why wouldn’t I be? You two have fun today. Gemma, I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow?” He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Not before you get home, unless you’re not going into the office tomorrow?”

“To be determined.” He gave you both a short goodbye wave and headed out.

“Awk - ward…” you sing-songed, once you were sure he was out of range.

“Ugh, I know. He’s not stupid. I mean, he knows I’m active, but it’s still a little weird being so forthcoming with him about it.”

“Has he ever had anyone…” you asked before you could filter the thought.

“I mean, you’re here all the time when I’m home. Have you ever seen him bring a woman around? I know he’s dated over the years, but no one’s ever good enough for him. They never last so he never wants to introduce us. It’s a little sad, really.”

You nodded in agreement.

“Do you want to have a swim and sit in the hot tub for a bit again this morning? Mikey’s flight gets in at 3, so I was hoping you and I could head into town for lunch and maybe some shopping and then you could drop me at his place and drive my car back here. Unless you want to meet up with anyone, of course.”

“Sounds perfect. I’m honestly just looking forward to another veg fest tonight.”

You changed into your bathing suit and slipped a robe over top, then met Gemma on the heated pool deck. 

“I can’t get over how warm it is right now! Clearly no hope for a white Christmas.”

“I know! Air’s still a bit chilly, but yeah, sucks. I’d love snow for the holidays,” you replied, dropping your towel on a lounge chair and untying your robe. You slid the fabric off your shoulders, and stepped down the stairs into the warm, salt water pool. You let your body acclimate a bit before dipping your head completely under and pushing off the bottom to glide to the far side in one breath. When you surfaced, you grabbed a hold of the side of the pool and realized Mr. Walker was standing at his office windows, staring down at you.

He held your gaze for what felt like a moment too long, then turned away, presumably toward his desk, but impossible for you to see his face. Which, to be honest, was fine because for a minute it felt like he was going to burst through the windows and eat you up.

The splash as Gemma broke the surface next to you snapped you out of your reverie and she tugged you back from the side, urging you into an easy lap race. You swam back and forth the length of the pool about twenty times before stopping back at the shallow end.

“That all you got?” Gemma called, crawling away toward the deep end again. 

You stared after her, but let your gaze raise to the windows. His window. You could see nothing inside from this far away, the light tint blocking everything. But you knew he was there. Was he still sitting at his desk, typing a memo? On the phone, arranging an international meeting? Or was he back at the window, watching you with his hands in his pockets, struggling not to touch himself? Or fuck, maybe he was touching himself. You sank under the water before Gemma could reach you again.

“Hot tub?” she asked, when you bobbed to the surface.

“Hot tub,” you agreed.

You lounged in the even warmer, bubbling water for another 15 minutes or so, sending the last of your finals week jitters packing. This semester was over. Your relationship was over. There was nothing more you could do about your performance for either scenario. So you closed your eyes and let it all go with a sigh.

“There you are.”

“What?” you opened your eyes as Gemma spoke.

“You’ve been on edge. I know you said you didn’t care about Charlie, but something’s been bothering you. You just look so much more relaxed now. You good? Still okay about the plans for tonight? I don’t mean to leave you all alone, but…”

“I’m gonna be so good, Gem. Don’t worry about me. Let’s go. I want to see if that pop-up shop is still around. They have the cutest jewelry.”

“Yes!”

You found the store you were looking for and bought a few new pairs of earrings. A long, thin drop chain pair and some geometric hoops, asking the clerk if you could wear the gold bar threaders out of the store. You also found a necklace for your mom and some jade bracelets for your aunt. Christmas shopping halfway done.

Gemma pulled you into a lingerie shop next. 

“I wanna get something sexy for tonight.” She tried on a few outfits and picked out a few for you to try on too.

“This is silly. I don’t have anyone to wear this stuff for anymore.”

“Oh, just wear it for yourself. Don’t you just feel luxurious in silk?”

You agreed and bought the dark blue, high cut silk romper with black lace trim and white flower print. It was maybe the sexiest thing you ever owned. And you were single. Awesome.

You and Gemma walked arm in arm to your favorite lunch spot, grabbing a table on the heated patio. You giggled conspiratorially together about how her evening with Mike would go, making sure you cut her off before she got too graphic. You did not want the details. Those were private, no matter how much Gemma liked to brag.

You hit a few more shops after lunch, nabbing a new sweater for your dad, a book from your uncle’s favorite author, and some art supplies for your cousin. You just had stocking stuffers left, so you hit up the candy shop after dropping Gemma at Mike’s.

You pulled Gemma’s car into the garage and let yourself into the basement to drop your bags down in your room, figuring you would just stay hidden and out of Mr. Walker’s way for the evening. But your stomach rumbled and you realized lunch had been hours ago. 

Before you could make it upstairs, you were distracted by the sounds of grunting and staccato smacks. You peered into the gym to find Mr. Walker throwing jabs and punches against a heavy bag. His back was to you and your mouth watered as you watched his shoulders and traps tense and ripple with each hit. From the amount of sweat dripping down his back and soaked into his tank and shorts, he’d clearly been at it for a while. He was shifting his feet back and forth in a little sparring dance and you were about to get caught out as he rotated around the bag. But you simply couldn’t move.

Mr. Walker had just pumped his arms preparing for the next hit as he rounded his target. He grabbed the bag to still it when he noticed you staring.

“Everything okay?” he asked, chest heaving.

You cleared your throat and suppressed the urge to turn and run.

“Everything’s, uh …just fine,” you smiled at him. “I was just on my way to grab a bite and heard the ruckus in here.”

“Sorry to sidetrack you.” He trained an intense stare on you, head tilting to the side. “But I was just about done anyway. If you don’t mind waiting, I can whip up something after I grab a shower?”

“That would be amazing, thank you Mr. Walker. Anything I can do to help get ready?”

He strode toward you now, grabbing a towel from the bench to wipe the sweat from his face. You watched rapt as a damp curl bounced back into place on his brow. 

“If you want to open a bottle of wine, feel free, but no need to do any heavy lifting in the kitchen. I’ve got it covered,” he winked at you with a devilish grin. Suddenly his hand was at your neck, fingers gently caressing the chain hanging from your ear. “Are these new?”

You swallowed and nodded, unable to respond.

“They’re pretty.”

“Thank you,” you practically whispered, trying not to sink to the floor before him.

You excused yourself and made your way back upstairs, wanting to simply escape his commanding presence and seek out a snack to tide you over. 

“Don’t spoil your dinner,” he called to you in the kitchen, his footsteps heavy on his way upstairs as well.

You sat with the banana you’d plucked from the fruit bowl and pondered the scene. 

Would he strip down in the bedroom or the bathroom? Would he stand under the rushing water for a bit and let the warm water loosen his muscles, hand against the wall, head hanging down? Did he touch himself? He had to touch himself, but did he use a bar or gel? Loofah? Washcloth? Or was he just running his hands all over his body now? How did he dry off? Towel over his head to shuffle those curls? Or bend over and get the legs, drying up the body first? Maybe he started with a swipe across his chest? Did he wrap that towel around his waist or just bare-ass it into the closet for a pair of sweats and a t-shirt? Barefoot? Slippers?

“Are you going to eat that?”

You jumped and dropped the banana that you hadn’t even taken one bite of to the counter.

“Oh, Mr. Walker, you startled me,” you gasped.

“You did seem rather in deep thought there. Anything I can help with?”

Why you expected him to be in a ratty pair of sweats and a t-shirt you’d never know. Mr. Walker had donned an elegant pair of loose linen pants and simple cashmere turtleneck sweater that did nothing to hide the muscles he’d been training just half an hour ago. He looked delicious.

“Here,” he reached for the as yet unpeeled banana, “let’s just put this away and get you something more substantial, okay?”

You made some light small talk about your recent semester and watched as he breezed around the kitchen, pulling out packages from the fridge and heating pans on the stove. In a mere matter of minutes he had turned a burner on to boil water and chopped asparagus, tomatoes, broccoli, and yellow peppers. When the water bubbled just right he tossed in a bag of fresh cavatelli. He asked about the rest of your Christmas plans while he sauted the vegetables in a fragrant lemon sauce. After draining the pasta, he tossed it in the pan along with a bit of pasta water, stirring to thicken up the sauce before adding some lemon zest and grated parm. Boyfriends? He asked as he ladled heaping portions into two wide flat bowls and set one down in front of you at the island.

“Thank you, Mr. Walker,” you said as you picked up your fork. “No, not anymore.”

“Please,” he rested his fists on the counter across from you.”I want you to call me August.’

“Okay. August,” you replied, as a jolt of pleasure raced through you straight to your cunt.

“Good girl.”

You closed your eyes and sighed, hoping it was masked as the enjoyment of the bite you took. August Walker wanted you as much as you wanted him. There was absolutely no doubt. When you opened your eyes, his icy blue stare greeted you while his mouth pulled into a sly smirk.

He lounged against the counter across from you, dish in hand, lifting bites of pasta to his mouth and chewing while he listened to you try to explain why it simply wasn’t working out with the men at college. It seemed to you that his breath got deeper with each failed relationship.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, licking an errant drop of sauce off the corner of your mouth. “It just feels like they aren’t really into it.”

“Into what?”

“Well, me. I guess. Into what I want.”

“And what do you want?”

“Something more…” you took a deep breath to stifle the jitters. You were about to proposition your best friend’s dad. “Passionate.”

His eyes widened ever so slightly, brow raised in surprise as if he did not expect that to be your answer. He set his plate down, abandoning the last bite, and slipped his hands in the pockets of his pants. And watched you watch. Yeah. He knew. Saw it the minute you walked in the house two days ago.

You dropped your fork to your plate and slid your chair back, standing to move around the island. 

“Can I help with the dishes?”

“Are dishes what you really want to be doing right now?” he quirked an eyebrow at you.

“Not really, no,” you stepped closer, heart pounding in your chest. “August.”

He pulled his hands from his pockets and placed them against your cheeks, fingers wrapping around the nape of your neck, but with no pressure at all.

“So, listen. I want you to be really sure about this,” his eyes darted back and forth as he searched yours for any hint of doubt, even as you nodded. When he found none, he bent to kiss you. It was gentle at first, a simple touch, then a swipe of the tongue to ease you open and slip in. The mustache tickled your nose and the scruff felt exactly how you imagined, how you wanted it. You let your mouth fall open and welcomed the gentle probing of his tongue.You whimpered when he pulled away.

He considered you then, for what felt like an eternity before he placed a thumb on your lips and tugged down to your chin then slid his digit into your mouth and pressed down on your tongue to gather whatever moisture was available. You closed your lips around his thumb and rolled your eyes back up to him, sucking slowly on his thumb and daring him to pull it out.

He huffed and sneered and pulled his thumb from your lips and tilted your mouth back up to meet his lips crashing down on yours again. When he released your mouth, he licked his lips and then turned you so he could guide you out of the kitchen, down the hall, and up the stairs to his bedroom. He sat you on the edge of the bed and you stared up into his ocean-deep eyes.

“My god you are an angel, aren’t you?”

You shivered and gasped, then released your breath slowly. He smirked again.

“You like that? When I call you an angel?”

“I really do,” you whispered.

“Good. Then whenever you’re with me, alone, you are my Angel. Is that okay with you?”

“It is.”

He smiled at you then and pulled his sweater over his head leaving him bare chested in front of you. You raised a hand as if to drift your fingers through the bed of fur covering his chest and tapering down to his stomach. But he stopped you. Grabbed your wrist with one hand and tilted your chin to him with the other, holding your gaze steady and peering deep into your soul to confirm his observation. It was written all over your face. You wanted him to tell you. You wanted him to give you permission. You wanted to hear him say yes. So you asked.

“Can I touch you August?”

“Yes, Angel. You can.” He released your hand and face and you proceeded to touch him. You slid your palm up his stomach to his chest, your fingers snaking through his hair. He heaved a sigh, then placed his hand on your wrist again and pulled you up to standing. You peered into his eyes, bit your lower lip and slid your palm back down, turning your hand so your fingertips hit his waistband first, sneaking under the fabric.

“You sure you’re ready for that right now?” he asked, placing his hand on your wrist for the third time this evening. “I think you might want to rethink that.” He put your hand over the bulge in his pants so you could feel not only how hard he was already but how large. He was silently asking you if you’d ever had a lover whose cock was as big as his and you paused for only a beat.

You knew exactly how you wanted to start. “I’m a thousand percent sure,” you grinned salaciously up at him.

His nod was practically imperceptible, so determined not to let you see how your eagerness was affecting him. How would it look if he were losing all control?

You licked your lips and brought both hands to the drawstring tie, loosening it slowly, then dragging the fabric carefully over his engorged cock. You sat back on the bed as you pushed his pants down his legs, never once letting your eyes leave his.

Not until you were ready to take him in hand did you drop your eyes to drink him in. It was the most glorious sight you could imagine. Long, thick, hard. Jumping slightly as you touched the underside with your fingertips, then settling the weight into the palm of your hands. He had not been wrong at all. No other man you’d been with could compare to his size. And you had absolutely no doubt he knew exactly how to wield it.

You were hypnotized. Even if you’d wanted to look back into his eyes to ask permission before you took him into your mouth, you simply could not tear your gaze away. Your hunger evolved into something more now, and you leaned forward, tucking your tongue under the head while your lips wrapped around him.

You knew there was no way you’d be able to take his full length inside your mouth, but you wanted to try. Wanted to show him you were willing. You gathered your spit and let it glide your mouth over his cock, past the bulbous head and as far down the veiny shaft as you could manage. With a hand firmly gripped around the base, you held him in place while you moved your mouth up and down, letting your tongue drag and circle. You could do this for hours. He might have let you. But the minute you let his tip hit the back of your throat, causing a small gag reflex and a few tears to well in your eyes, he pulled you off.

“Not yet. I’ll have you undone, but not yet.”

You blinked the tears of pleasure quickly away, confused. Charlie had always loved to come in your mouth, knowing an early release would allow him to last longer with you.

“Was it not alright?” you questioned, unsure now if all those boys had been lying when they said you were the best.

“Oh, Angel. It was divine. Do you see how fucking hard I am for you? And you’ll do that again for me. I’ll insist on it. But I want to drink you in myself, first.”

He asked you to undress. You were suddenly reminded of your spur of the moment purchase and would give anything to put yourself on display in it for him. He sensed your cautious excitement, but mistook it for hesitation.

“What is it, Angel? Are you having doubts?” he asked in a gentler tone than he’d been using since you arrived in the bedroom.

“No, August. Nothing like that. I just, well…”

He furrowed his brows at you and urged you to finish your confession.

“I mean, I want this, but I really wasn’t prepared for it to happen. And it’s embarrassing to say, but I have something I’d love to put on for you. Can I do that?”

His relief shifted to a wolfish grin, as he nodded and shifted out of your way. “Please don’t take too long.” He took himself in hand and began to slowly stroke. “I don’t want to take care of this myself.”

You nodded eagerly and rose to stand before him. It took every ounce of restraint not to sprint from the room in an effort to return to him as quickly as possible, but that didn’t feel dignified. You weren’t going to start acting like a schoolgirl in front of August Walker.

Your legs carried you purposefully through the house to your room where you undressed, put your hair up, and quickly showered. After drying off, you fished the romper out of the shopping bags on your bed, tore off the tag carefully, and stepped into the silky piece. Gemma was right, it felt so very luxurious. 

A shock of cold rushed through you. How would you ever face Gemma after tonight? It wasn’t as if you’d been scheming for this to happen. But you weren’t saying no, either. You wanted this so badly. Another deep breath. You’d just have to deal with the consequences later. There was no way you were stopping now.

You searched through your luggage for your long, white crochet cardigan with the front tie. You decided to brush your teeth quickly and took a few extra minutes to dab some of your favorite perfume along your neck and wrists. A makeup touch up seemed useless at this point, but you did fix your hair.

You took a final look at yourself in the mirror and blew out the breath you found yourself holding. This was happening.

You climbed the stairs with purpose, noting the low seductive music drifting from the top floor. You smiled at the thought that August liked to use sound to get into the mood as well. You stopped at the door to his bedroom, just as he was coming out of his own en suite, clothed now in a pair of dark blue silk pajama pants that did little to hide his ongoing erection.

“Oh Angel. I thought you’d gotten lost again,” he teased. “Come. Let me look at you.” 

He reached out his hands as he moved across the room toward you. He grasped one of your hands and raised it over your head, twirling you around once slowly then dropping your arm as you came back around to face him and tracing his hand down your throat and chest, toying with the bow at the front of your sweater.

“Is this what you wanted to show me?”

You nodded, wide-eyed, hoping he really loved it as much as he seemed to.

“Well, don’t you look good for me?. It’s a pity this won’t stay on long.” He pulled on the strings and slipped a hand inside the sweater, grazing your side as he wrapped his arm around your back and pulled you close for a withering kiss. He palmed a breast with the other hand, rubbing against the hard nub straining through the soft fabric. He pressed the small of your back and moved you inches closer to him, his stiff cock jutting against you.

As he released the kiss, he pushed the sweater off your shoulders and let it drop to the floor behind you, once again taking up your hand and pulling you with him as he moved back to the bed. This time, he sat, legs spread wide so you could step between them.

“This really is very pretty,” he toyed with the thin straps of the romper, sliding a finger under the lace and brushing his knuckle against the top of your breast. “Would you like to keep it on a little longer?”

“I would.”

“Very well then.”

He pulled the straps down your shoulders a few inches tempting you with a state of full undress, then replaced them and moved his hands to your hips, smoothing them around to cup your ass and squeeze. He kept one hand on your lower back, pulling the other back around to the front before pushing a hip just off-kilter. You were now on a slight diagonal to him and that allowed him to more easily slide his hand off your hip and down into the crease of your thigh before he slipped a finger under the silk to trace along your folds.

You watched his eyes darken as he discovered the moisture already accumulated, waiting for him. You bit your lip as he turned his gaze to your eyes. 

“You are already so wet, Angel. You’re hungry for this aren’t you?”

“Yes, August. I want you.”

He kept his eyes glued to yours as he dipped two fingers inside your core and you gasped.

“And I want you to fuck yourself on my hand. Will you do that for me Angel?”

Your whole body was buzzing now. No one had ever prioritized your pleasure like this. If you’d had your mouth on a boyfriend’s cock, that’s where it was staying until he came in your mouth or pulled out and slipped inside your pussy. But giving you control of your own orgasm? Exhilarating.

His fingers were curled inside you, stroking and stretching you, smoothing along your walls and seeking out the most delicate spaces as you began to shift your hips against his hand. The heat spread through your body, you relaxed and sank your weight into his hand, your cunt swallowing his fingers deeper. You swept a hand under the curve of your tit, squeezing gently at the hardened nipple while you grabbed a hold of his wrist with your other hand. Using the leverage of his grip, you rocked back and forth into his palm, tossing your head back when he graced you with another curl of his fingers. He had found your spot and was going to exploit that fact, teasing you with a gentle press before spreading his fingers wide inside you.

“Please, August,” you begged.

“Please what Angel?” he smirked. “This is all you.”

You hauled your head back to stare down at him while you undulated your hips, searching for a way to position his fingers where you needed them again.

“Would you put another finger in? Please August?”

He smiled and obliged and you shivered with pleasure, finally beginning to feel the fullness and pressure you needed to reach your peak. If you could just…You snaked your hand around his wrist, moving so you could drag your thumb down beside his and urge it up to the top of your clit. You pressed his thumb into you, guiding his motion and pulling away only when you were sure he would continue on his own.

With his thumb brushing over your pearl, you rocked harder on his fingers, shifting his hand so he had no choice but to curl up into your spot and you held his hand firm in position when he did, praying to all the gods you knew that he would remain right there for just this moment longer.

He stood as soon as you came apart, catching you with an arm around your back as he slowly withdrew his fingers from your pulsing pussy.

“Absolutely gorgeous.” He kissed at the heat radiating from your cheeks, then sought your mouth and traced your lips with his tongue, opening you up to him and licking in deep. You moaned as you imagined him doing that again, lower.

“Yes, I know. You’ll get that too,” he declared, pulling away from the kiss. “What do you say, Angel? How do you feel about taking this off now that I’ve seen you so pretty in it?”

You smoothed your hands down your body, enjoying the sensual feel of the silk, still reeling from your orgasm. You nodded as he slipped the straps from your shoulders once more, this time pushing the elastic waistband over your hips and dropping the material to the floor.

August grabbed your ass then slid his hands to your thighs, urging you to wrap your legs around his waist as he turned to face the bed. His kiss was deep and hard as he climbed one knee and then the other onto the mattress, before easing you on your back. With your legs pinned around his waist, he ran his hands along your calves and up to the crease at the top of your thighs where he hooked his thumbs and pressed his fingertips into the flesh of your hips.

You were fully on display for him now. Nothing to stop his eyes from devouring every inch of your body, kindling the flames still licking at your skin. He eased his thumbs toward your apex, caressing your folds and massaging your slick along the edges. He let one thumb circle around your clit, pressing hard when you arched into it. He dipped the same thumb into your core, then withdrew and placed it in his mouth, licking you off his thumb like ice cream and you melted at the site of it.

You felt adored and basked in his worship, tossing your arms over your head and arching your back to press your chest out towards him. He slid his hands up your waist and over your belly to cup and knead your breasts. When he pinched, the pressure was just the other side of comfortable and you hissed with the pain. He eased up, rubbing gently for a moment before squeezing again, with the same intensity. The salacious leer on his side-cocked head sent a wave of pleasure along with the pain and you furrowed your brow and whimpered with content. Satisfied, he let you go and leaned down to kiss you again.

He unhooked your legs and directed you to the top of the bed. You eased back against the tall, plush gray velvet headboard, positioning yourself right in the middle of the California king bed.

“I’m going to eat that delicious pussy of yours now, Angel. And I don’t want you to touch me while I do. I want to try something I think you will enjoy. Will you let me?”

You furrowed your brow and nodded reluctantly, unsure what it would mean.

August climbed up to the head of the bed, knees straddling your waist as he reached behind the headboard. Your heart beat noticeably faster when you saw the thick strands of silk cord he pulled over the top. Holding them both in one hand by the plush lined leather cuffs at the ends of each, he peered down at you with a raised eyebrow.

“Have you ever been restrained, Angel?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and shook your head slowly once, chin lowered with a shyness you hadn’t yet felt this evening. August grasped your jaw to tilt you towards him.

“Never be embarrassed, sweet thing. This isn’t for everyone. Believe me, I know.” He dropped one line and your chin at the same time, holding the second cuff in front of you and caressing the line. “You have options here. Let me explain. If you want, you could simply hold onto the rope. It’s soft and won’t burn or cut your hands when you squeeze tight. But the risk here is how easy it would be for you to drop it when you are unable to control yourself.”

You blinked with anticipation for the next option, then closed your eyes when he gave you a few more.

“You could always wrap the rope around your wrists or use the cuffs with a loose buckle as well, but still…” He unbuckled the cuff. “I think your best option, the one that will ensure you are able to enjoy every minute of my mouth on you, would be for you to let me tighten these around your wrists.”

He held the cuff wide for you and waited as you opened your eyes to give him an answer. With a wave of confidence surging through your body, you lifted your arm for him.

“Good girl.” He pulled the strap through the buckle and found the right fit with ease. Firm, not too tight, but certainly not loose at all. He tugged your arm down to demonstrate how little reach you had now and raised an eyebrow again with a last chance to beg off. You met his question with an unwavering gaze and he closed and opened his eyelids slowly with a smile before attaching a cuff to your other wrist.

You tested this one yourself with a tug and another thick swallow to calm your nerves and remind yourself you wanted this. So badly.

You could leave your arms winged back toward the headboard or bring your hands in front of your face, with elbows bent close by your side, but you’d never be able to touch him while he was tucked between your legs. As he began to retreat, you reached reflexively for him, even though you were unable to catch him as the rope went taut.

As if reading your mind, he bent then and allowed you to place your hands on either side of his face while he kissed first your brow, then your cheeks below each eye, the corners of your lips.  He finally slotted his mouth against yours and you leaned into it and kissed back hard.

You let out a soft whine when he finally pulled away, but he pressed a finger to your lips to quiet you, then held it there as he eased down your inflamed body, rotating soft kisses and sharp nips.

No high school boyfriend had ever gone down on you. And Charlie wasn’t the first in college, but he’d been the best so far. August blew him out of the water.

When he arrived at his destination, he pulled his hand down your throat and over your chest, fingertips skimming your belly and lifting away right before he reached your mound. 

He stared at first, eyes devouring the site before him. He tilted his head first one way then the other, as if trying to determine the perfect approach. He pushed your knees wide again when you began to tip them in, nervous about the scrutiny. When he finally eased closer, you closed your eyes in anticipation, but the warm wet sensation never came. You felt only his hands slipping under and around your bent legs, fingers digging into the tops of your thighs and holding you in place. You opened your eyes when you heard him inhale deeply and saw his own eyes flutter shut and open again. As he exhaled, the air drifted and teased, first warming and then cooling across your delicate skin.

He turned to nuzzle into the crook of your thigh, nipping and licking lightly on first one side and then the other. When his beard brushed your skin, you shuddered. It was an exquisite tickle, prickly and soft at once and everything you’d imagined. He pulled his arms from under you then, smoothing his hands along the insides of your thighs and pressing your knees wide and still he wouldn’t touch you where you ached for him.

“Please, August,” you pleaded, head straining toward him.

“Patience, little Angel.”

Only when you placed your head back against the headboard, did he dip low again, still nuzzling gently around the edges of your desire. You felt a brush of fingertips down your inner thigh and the back of a finger running up one side of your aching cunt and down the other. Then a finger along both sides, smoothing up then drifting down. At the bottom he captured your pussy lips between the knuckles of two fingers and squeezed, gently opening and closing and finally providing some of the friction you craved. But as soon as you tried to arch into it, he stopped and pulled his hand away.

“I know what you think you need, Angel. I’m here to tell you there’s more. We’ll get there. And I should have said something sooner. It would be better for you to hear this in a less vulnerable state, but if you want me to stop, at any time, I will. Do you understand?”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to articulate even the word yes properly, but he wanted to hear it.

“Say it.”

“I understand August,” you spoke softly, then cleared your throat and responded with more conviction. “If I want you to stop, I’ll tell you.”

He placed a hand on your belly now, heel of his palm pressing just above your clit and rocking back yet still avoiding the tender spot. Then he lifted his palm and swept his finger toward your thigh again, massaging the flesh gently between his fingers and thumb. He did the same on the other side and finally, finally, because you were being so good and laying still for him, he eased a knuckle into your slit and held it there.

And then he craned his neck closer, pulled his finger up through your folds, and let his tongue drag in the spot where his finger was. He pressed his thumb onto your clit and rubbed small circles while his tongue lapped at the slick already forming. When he pulled his mouth away, he slid his thumb down inside you, deep and then shallow as he returned to pressing at your clit.

All you wanted was to lift your hips up to meet his pressure, but you sighed out a low moan instead, trying to be good for him. As if to reward your self-control, he let the tip of his tongue meet his thumb at your sensitive nub and then pulled his hand away so he could close his mouth and suck. When he pulled his lips away, he tugged the kernel with him for a moment before letting it go, then rubbing it with his thumb again.

When his mouth met your pussy once more, it was to press his tongue wide and flat into your folds before curling the tip up and in. He repeated this a few more times, tipping deeper and deeper each time while his thumb still strummed along your button before he finally plunged the length of his tongue right into your core and just like that wrapped his lips around your clit to pull out and away.

You closed your eyes, so he couldn’t see them begging him to put his mouth back where you wanted it, but the anticipation was stoking a fire and you didn’t want to put it out just yet. You felt his fingers push up along the soaking path, tipping into the bud and then dragging back down, middle finger dipping in on the return now. He ran this finger up and down, in and out, circling, sliding, coaxing, and just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore and you were about to break, he pressed his other hand low on your belly and held your hips in place, like he just knew you were about to shift and search for more friction.

When he could sense you would be good for him, he moved the hand from your belly to cup under your thigh before adding a second finger and rubbing them both furiously from side to side briefly, before splitting his fingers and spreading your labia wide. He dove in to kiss your lower lips, tracing the wide opening before licking in deep and you gasped your eyes open at the memory of his earlier kiss and promise.

As if on cue, any tension you’d been holding in your body at the thought of being tied up, forced to remain still, and eaten out while you couldn’t fully participate just vanished. You sank infinitesimally further into the bed, your arms dropped by fractions of millimeters, and your legs fell open even wider. 

August knew it. And he rewarded you for it. His mouth was on you in earnest now, kissing, sucking, nibbling, licking, lapping, prodding. His fingers were inside you and on you and around you. Two fingers twisted inside, pressing down and spreading you open. One tongue laved at your core, coaxing the heat and juice from you. When it came, you thought he would stop because this is when they stop and climb up your belly and slide their cocks inside you and grind into the wet wet heat, but he didn’t stop.

No he kept going. He kissed your quivering pussy and tongued along the folds, gathering up as much of your essence as he could. He spun those two fingers up now, caressing your walls and seeking out that most favorable spot. The one he already had you coming on earlier. The one he made you make yourself come on. God, what did it matter who was doing what? 

The fact of the matter was, August Walker was giving you your third orgasm of the night with nothing more than his mouth and hands and he still hadn’t let you touch him for very long with either your fingers or your mouth. And he certainly hadn’t placed in cock deep inside your aching cunt.

But what he was doing was continuing to worship at your altar. Well past the point that you could think straight. Was this now four or five? It was all a blur and all you knew was that if August didn’t stop, you might explode. Suddenly it was a problem that you couldn’t move your arms much past your shoulders. 

August was past caring about you thrashing your hips with one aftershock after another. Didn’t mind about having to hook his arms under your thighs and tug you back down the bed each time you tried to grasp the wrist cords and pull yourself off his face. He only wanted you to stop straining so he could show you how much better it could be. He wanted you to relax just like you had right before he’d really started in on you in earnest.

You felt his hand snake up your belly between your legs, creep over the swell of your breast, and rest against your collarbone. At first you resisted the weight, but then you welcomed it. Wondered if it might not be better if he just climbed his whole body right up on top of yours and crushed you into the mattress.

But he wasn’t going to do that, because instead he was going to ensure you came one more time while he scissored his fingers inside you and licked you into oblivion. When you screamed his name, he grinned a kiss against your thigh, crawled out from between your knees, and gently, ever so carefully, eased your legs together and unbent them. 

He traced his hand back up your heaving belly and chest, wrapped his fingers around your throat and tilted your neck towards him.

“So, so beautiful when you come, Angel. I wanted it to last forever for you.”

You tasted yourself on his lips and tongue and whimpered into his mouth because you suddenly realized you wanted that too and it was too late.

“Is it too late?” you whispered and he chuckled at you. 

“You should pace yourself.” He knelt beside you and unbuckled your wrists, kissing each one as he freed you from the cuffs, then dropping to his back beside you. “Thank you, for opening yourself to me.” 

“How in the world are you thanking me after that?” you laughed, still shaking from the explosions, but moving toward your next goal. “And also... Can I get back to this now?”

You began to scoot down between his legs, dragging his silky pants with you and tossing them to the floor. 

“If you’re sure you're ready.”

You trailed your fingers up his thighs as you moved back into position on your belly. He was still hard as rock when you reached for him. You licked your lips at the sight, then sent your eyes straight to his while your mouth wrapped around the tip of his cock with a smile. You worked him slow and methodically, tonguing along his length, tasting his warmth. You were salivating for this man, dribbling spit to help ease your tour of his member, and yet you knew you’d never reach the base. You let your hand twist around him, squeezing and grabbing while you worked your mouth down to meet it.  

“Your mouth feels so good on me, Angel. You like doing that, don’t you?”

You peered at him through your lashes and nodded, attempting another wide smile to agree. His hands smoothed up your arms, over your shoulders, and into your hair. You didn’t need him to hold your head against his cock, but he grunted and shifted his hips to press deeper into your mouth. You would have done this for him all night. Let him lay back and enjoy being worshiped the way he had worshiped you.

But with one hand on your nape and one right on top of your head, August helped himself to the pleasure you were offering without hesitation and began fucking your mouth in earnest. With each thrust, you felt him edge deeper until he finally found the back of your throat. 

“There you go,” he grunted. “That’s a good girl. Taking me so deep.”

You could do nothing more than open wide and let him drive, feeling the saliva drip from your mouth with no opportunity to swallow. He set a steady, punishing pace and while you were enjoying it, you also couldn’t help but imagine this must be what your aching pussy would feel like shortly. Your tears were flowing freely now, too, spurred on by the constant stimulation.

Suddenly, he pulled you off and you were confused for one brief, maddening moment until you heard him command you.

“Hands and knees.”

You pressed yourself up as he shifted to his knees as well before returning his hands to your head and dragging your mouth down his cock once again. You felt his grip on your hair at your neck tighten, his pace even faster than before. In just moments, with your watering eyes rolled up as far as they could go to watch him sneer down at you, you felt his release coat the back of your throat, hot and salty, as he came with a growl.

He hauled you up, shifting his knees forward to meet you, pressing his chest against you, arms wrapped around your back as he kissed the tears from your cheeks and praised you. He settled back against the headboard, taking you with him and scooping your legs over his, nestling your head against his chest and holding you close. You could feel his heart pounding, the intensity matched only by the speed at which yours beat. His fingers traced along your spine, caressing your shoulder and at the same time he held your hip on his lap and tortured you with tender touches along the flesh of your thighs and legs.

You trailed your fingers over his chest and angled your head to nip at his neck. 

“Was that okay?” he asked, uncharacteristically soft. You bit the urge to respond with sarcasm.

“I loved every second of it.” You punctuated your response with a kiss, cupping his cheek and tonguing his mouth open to lick into the softness.

He groaned and kissed you back for what felt like forever until you began to feel a nudge at your thigh. You reached down between your heated bodies to find him, wrapping your hands around his girth and stroking him to full erection. Without breaking the kiss you began to shift, sliding a leg to either side of his hips. Just as you had raised up, ready to slide him deep inside you, he gripped your shoulders tight and pulled away.

“Wait.”

“Why?”

Without answering, he easily lifted and deposited you on your back beside him, before rolling to the nightstand beside the bed. He pulled out a foil packet and bottle of lube.

“Because I care about you.” He tore the packet and pulled out the condom then squeezed a few drops of lube in before rolling it over his engorged length. He added a few more drops and pumped a few times, before dropping to his back again beside you.

“Now, where were we?” he grinned.

He slipped his arm underneath you and pulled you to him, guiding your leg over his hip again. On your knees, you took him in hand but before you could position his tip at your entrance, he pressed two fingers deep in your slit, massaging and stroking, scissoring you wide. You felt the heat building again and dropped your head back with a moan, still dragging your hand up and down his length. Your pussy was squelching with the juice he was coaxing and you felt his hand slip out then wrap around yours as you both directed him inside you.

With just the tip, you already felt fuller than you ever had and you sat with that feeling for a moment, hands still wrapped around the rest of his cock and keeping you from sliding all the way down.

Once you felt yourself relax around him, you nudged his hand away with your own and began to sink, slowly, deliberately, savoring the sensation. His hands gripped your hips all the while as he gazed in wonder and concern.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fucking fantastic,” you replied, rocking back slightly to view the point of his disappearance inside you.

“Do you remember what I told you before?’ he asked, a little more heat and darkness creeping into his voice.

“I can stop you at any time.”

“Yes. And if you can’t get the words out, pinch me.”

You were going to nod your understanding, but remembered he liked to hear it as much as you did. “Yes, August.”

“Good girl.”

August began a slow roll of his ups, nudging up into you and shifting you off balance for a moment. You caught yourself with your hands on his chest, then sat back up to start a slow grind of your own. For several long minutes it was just you riding him slowly, like an easy afternoon stroll, completely in sync with his movements.

When he began to pump faster, you braced your hands on his legs behind you trying to hold on for dear life. He gripped you by the hips and held you in place while bucked and then he ran his hands up your sides and hauled you down to his chest. He wrapped his arms around your back and held you so close, kissed you so hard, rocked even deeper into you than you ever thought possible and just when you thought it was about to hit you like a ton of bricks, he flipped you to your back.

He started a slower pace now, still holding you close, still ravishing your mouth. But when you wrapped a leg around his back, he lifted himself onto his arms and looked down between you then over to the leg at his side.  With a devilish grin, he reached back and under that leg, shifting it up over his shoulder. He picked up the pace, returning to the steady jackhammering you’d experienced while on top. And while you didn’t think deeper was possible, here he was, moving your limbs around to find more space. He pulled your other leg up now, no longer leaning forward, but up on his knees, holding you open before him while he pounded away.

This was more than you’d ever felt before. This was precision fucking at it finest and you were barely holding on. 

“You can let go, Angel. You can come around my cock, squeeze me hard. I won’t break,” he commended you, letting go of one leg and reaching down to massage your clit again with his thumb. That was all it took.

“Oh shit. Fuck. Fuck, August, Fuck!” 

“That’s it, Angel. I can feel you right now,” he growled. “Feel all the heat bursting inside you, feel your walls squeezing around me. Can you feel it?”

“Yes, yes, fuck yes. My god. Fuuuuuuuuuck! Fuck! Please,” you pleaded, panting and feeling like you were about to pass out. “Please.”

“Please what, Angel?”

“Please…” you didn’t exactly want him to stop but you weren’t sure how much more you could take either.

“Do you need me to stop?”

“I want you to come. Please August.”

He clenched his jaw and gave a few more hard thrusts before pulling out and flipping you one more time to your hands and knees. You could barely hold yourself up, sinking to your forearms, head into the mattress. But your ass was still in the air and your pussy was still on display for him and he took you one more time. He lined himself up again behind you, sheathed himself in one long simple stroke, holding still for one moment.

“You're still coming, I can feel it. God, you are amazing. You’re taking me so good.”

Incoherent babble is all he got in return. Even if you’d wanted him to stop, you could no longer form full words, let alone sentences. And how would you ever find the strength to reach back to even graze his skin, let alone pinch it? Whatever. You were riding a wave of the longest high you’d ever been on while August resumed his magnificent assault on you.

After a few more strokes, you felt him swell even larger than he already was, filling you up more fully than he already had. With one final animal roar, he released himself with a hand pressing against your lower back, slowing stilling as he filled the condom inside you. You shuddered with an aftershock and wanted to drop to your belly with him on top and never pull that blanket off.

After just a short moment, you felt his hand at your entrance, fingers drifting lightly through your folds before he gathered himself and the condom in hand and pulled all the way out for good. He pushed against you lightly to urge you flat. You vaguely registered words of praise coming from his mouth, but you were so spun off into oblivion you couldn’t be sure what they were.

From some far off place, you heard water running, then felt a dip beside you, and the wet warmth of a tender caress between your shaking legs. Somehow, you were maneuvered to your back to receive another gentle swipe, before you felt his lips press against your mouth, his tongue seeking your own.

It took everything you had to peel your eyes open and meet his gaze.

“Is that what you meant by passion?” he asked.

“It’s a start.”

August chuckled and gently eased himself to the side of the bed, swinging his legs off and standing. He tilted his head from side to side, loosening a few kinks before he strode with purpose into the bathroom. When he returned, he held out a blue silk robe and helped you into it once you stood from the bed. He tied the belt around your waist, then reached to the floor for his  matching pants. As he stood, he gathered you in his arms for another kiss before he took your hand and led you back downstairs.

Trailing behind him, you were pleasantly surprised to find yourself deposited on the deep plush conversation sofa. August flipped on the switch to the gas fireplace and leaned over to drop one more kiss on your lips, then told you to sit tight.

The warm glow of the fire mesmerized and hypnotized you, not that it was hard. You had been overstimulated and now the exhaustion was settling in. You felt high, completely spaced out. You had never felt so thoroughly and completely fucked in your entire short life. 

August returned a few moments later. Or was it hours? You had no idea. All you knew was that he placed a live edge wooden serving tray holding a few bottles of water, some fruit and cheese, a few small bowls of olives, almonds, and fig jam, some cut baguette, two champagne flutes, and a bottle of bubbly on the low ottoman in front of you, then eased himself onto the couch next to you.

“Let’s get you hydrated,” he leaned forward and grabbed a bottle from the tray.

“How did you know I’d want that?” you teased, harkening back to your first night home.

“You are a cheeky one, aren’t you?” August opened the bottle and pulled you close, tipping the cool, sweet water into your open mouth, eyes watching you closely to see when you’d had enough.

“Only for you,” you purred, reaching for the bottle so you could take another drink for yourself. When you pulled the bottle away from your lips, August bent to steal another kiss from you.

“A little dangerous, too.” He shifted a knuckle along your jaw, catching the soft indent in your chin to bring your face back to his. He kissed you for what felt like a millenia and you could have stayed that way all night. And then it hit you.

“Dangerous how?” you asked, when you pulled away reluctantly.

August closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, still leaning forward from the broken kiss. He sat up straighter when he exhaled and opened his eyes.

“My sweet Angel. I really didn’t mean to spoil our moment, but in a million years could you ever imagine this night could happen again?”

He held your gaze, and wouldn't let you turn away. You could see the anguish in his eyes. This wasn’t a lie. 

“But why would…?”

“You deserve to know the passion you crave. I wanted to help you learn about your desire. You are a strong, intelligent, thoughtful, and gorgeous woman. I wanted you to see you are capable of getting everything you want. You only need to be sure of it. And perhaps understand you can ask for more.”

“But I want you.”

August didn’t reply immediately and in the silence you knew he was thinking of exactly the same person you now were. If you were ever going to keep this night a secret from her, you’d have to make it a solitary event with no hope of a repeat. How were you ever going to deny your craving?

“Come here.” August set your bottle of water aside and drew you into his arms, leaning back against the sofa as you relaxed onto his chest. He kissed the top of your head and ran a hand slowly up and down your back.

“This isn’t fair,” you murmured.

“Life rarely is, Angel. Come on, let’s just enjoy the time we do have. What d’you say, hmm?”

You nodded and sniffed away the beginnings of your tears. August gently sat you up, then prepared small bites of food from the tray and brought them to your lips. You soaked in all the attention, certain you’d never feel so safe and loved again in your life.

With some energy back, you felt your mood lighten. August was right. You should make the most of what time you have left. You reached for the champagne bottle, peeled off the foil wrap, and untwisted the thin metal cage surrounding the cork. August chuckled as he watched you struggle with the cork, so you stuck out your tongue and handed the bottle to him.

“Please?” He popped the cork with ease and poured the golden liquid for you both.

“A toast?” He raised his glass to yours and watched closely as you mulled it over.

“To one night only.”

“One night only.” He smiled with a nod and watched as you took a sip, then stole a kiss before taking a drink from his own glass. He grabbed a strawberry from the tray and held it to your lips as you took a bite. “Now another drink.”

You almost squealed as the flavors exploded in your mouth. 

“When you try this on your own, be sure to get an extra-dry champagne,” August cautioned. “Moet brut won’t work with this flavor combination.”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind when I replenish my champagne cooler at school,” you teased. “What about this one?” You took another bite of strawberry and a sip of champagne, then leaned in for a kiss letting the flavors swirl in your mouth alongside his tongue. August continued the kiss, even as he set his glass aside and grabbed for yours to set it down as well.

He eased you to your back on the couch and slipped the tie loose from your robe before he finally broke the kiss.

“That’s also a good one. You’re quite the quick study.” He pushed the fabric aside, baring your chest and stomach, then appraised you for a moment before running his fingers over your breasts and down your belly, letting his mouth follow the trail.

You let out a soft moan and spread your legs involuntarily as he shifted to the floor and tugged your hips around so your ass was hanging off the sofa to give him better access. He let your legs rest over his shoulders and you sighed as he once again slipped his tongue and fingers through your folds, ravishing your core to bring another orgasm crashing over you. 

You barely had a moment to recover before you felt the belt of your robe sliding out from underneath you and in a swift heartbeat, August had you flipped over, urging you onto your knees on the cushions with your arms leaning on the back of the couch. You peered back at him, while he shifted the fabric of the robe over your back, letting it drape off to the side and leaving your bare ass and legs completely exposed to him. He watched you carefully as he rubbed a large hand over one cheek, then drew back and spanked you hard. He was already caressing the red mark before the shocked gasp left your lips. He quirked an eyebrow at you in a silent question. Again?

You pondered the feeling and decided that yes, August Walker could spank your ass. You turned your head to peer over the back of the couch and jutted your hips back towards him wordlessly asking for more, which he gladly gave. The sharp smacks were sometimes single, sometimes doubled up, but always tempered with a gentle caress before he dealt another blow.

You were dripping for him. When he dragged two fingers through your soft petals to gather the nectar, you glanced back to see him wrap his lips around his fingers and lick your taste off them. Then he reached his hand in the pockets of his pants and withdrew another foil square before dropping his pants altogether.

“You planned this,” you cried in feigned scandal.

“I hoped for it. Not the same thing,” he gently replied, rolling the condom over his swollen length. “But it’s always good to be prepared. Speaking of which…” 

August reached forward to grasp the silk belt he’d tossed aside, then drew one of your arms back behind you.

“May I have your other arm, Angel?”

You offered it without hesitation, shifting off the back of the couch so that all your weight was now on your knees. You felt him loop the belt around both wrists separately before he wrapped the tie a few more times around both. Holding the binds of your wrists in one hand, he used the other to guide his sheathed cock to your soaked pussy, gliding easily into your core. Once his hips met yours, he started a commanding pace, pumping in and out of you all the while holding you in place with your hands.

As if he could feel you losing control, unable to stay up straight any longer, August let the belt slips a few inches through his fingers before gripping tight again, giving you enough room to bend forward and rest your chest on the back of the couch while he continued to pump in and out of you with a devastating pace, the juice from you squelching around his cock.

“You fucking take me so good, Angel. Such a pretty pussy. Can you hear her talking to me? She says the sweetest things.”

He set a hand on your low back and pressed his against your stretched entrance, letting it drag along his cock as he moved back and forth and gathering some of your slick on the pad. You felt him ease his hand up, fingers pressing into the flesh of your asscheeks before he teased around your puckered rim with his thumb. When the moan escaped your mouth he knew he was on the right path and wasted no more time. He slipped his thumb right into your hole and held on while you bucked back against him.

“Fuck yeah, you like that, don’t you? Fucking my cock so good. Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Yes. August, fuck yes.” You could barely form more words so moans of pleasure and squeals of delight were all he heard but they were enough to spur him on and lead him down the path of his own release just as soon as he felt yours.

With one practiced tug, he released you from the bind and eased himself out of your still pulsing pussy, then guided you to stand before him, pressing kisses along your shoulders and neck while he pulled the spent condom off his softening dick. He grabbed a napkin from the tray and wrapped it in a wad before spinning you to face him and kissing you hard.

“Let’s get cleaned up.”

He led you upstairs one last time, abandoning the snack platter and half-full champagne bottle. He took you through to his bathroom, turned on the warm spray jets of the tiled shower, then disrobed you completely. You stepped into the glass cabinet and turned to grab his arm to bring him with you.

Without prompting, he grabbed a bar of the same bright citrus scented soap you always found in your guest room and lathered you up. If you weren’t about to fall asleep on your feet, you’d succumb so easily to the way his fingers danced across your skin, caressing every nook and cranny like they knew the way by heart. He spun you into the water to rinse and set to cleaning himself.

And now you had your answer. It was body wash, with a woodsy, pine scent. He rubbed it all over his body with his bare hands. He watched you watching, mesmerized at the way his muscles moved and the carefree way he gathered his own package and lathered it with suds before shifting you gently out of the way and rinsing off under the cascading water. 

Yes, he leaned an arm against the wall, but that could be just because you were with him and he wanted to encase you while he kissed you, tongue probing gently and mouths moving in unison. He groaned as he pulled away.

“We’d better get some sleep.”

The fluffy towel he dried you with was heavenly against your skin. He toweled himself as well before leading you back to his bed. 

“Are you comfortable sleeping here with me tonight?” he asked. “If you’d rather wake up in your own bed, I’d understand.”

It was uncharacteristically sweet, the way August was now wondering how you would feel in the morning, knowing you could never have him again. 

“I’d like to stay with you for tonight, if that’s okay.”

“More than okay.” He pulled the covers back and slipped in, holding them up for you to join him. Wrapped in his arms, head against his chest, you found yourself drifting off faster than you would have liked. You loved pillow talk, but supposed you’d managed that with him before, during, and a little after downstairs by the fire. Besides, pillow talk was for lovers. Which you were now assured you were not.

You woke later than you’d planned, your body still clearly recovering from the unexpected vigorous activity. August was not with you and though you knew the morning would not be a time to whisper sweet nothings, still you’d hoped to wake in his arms, just as you’d fallen asleep. The robe he’d lent you last night was draped across the foot of the bed and your lingerie was folded neatly on a chair nearby. 

You shrugged into the robe and grabbed your things, then headed downstairs where you could smell coffee already brewed but found no sign of August in the kitchen. You continued down to your room where you realized you’d left your phone all night. Shit.

When you picked it up, there were about ten messages from Gemma and you braced yourself as you opened the app to read them. Yes, in the end she wondered where the fuck you were and why you weren’t answering her but there was no urgent call to get her immediately. The night with Mike seemed like it had gone exactly as planned.

She only wanted to let you know Mike’s friends were throwing a New Year’s party and of course you were invited. Mike even had a university friend coming in from out of town for the party and Gemma wanted to set you up with him. The guy in the picture she sent looked cute enough. Apparently he sailed and had dark, wavy hair, a little shorter than Mike’s. His smile was amazing, but to your eyes, he was a boy. He would never compare, you were sure.

Just as you were contemplating how to let him down gently, your phone rang and Gemma’s number appeared. You took a deep breath and hoped nothing in your voice would betray you.

“Hey!” you answered brightly.

“Whoa, too much. Too loud. Calm down.” Gemma was hungover, for sure.

“Sorry,” you quieted. “Everything okay?”

“I think I drank a liquor store last night. Mike’s still passed out, but I need my bed. Can you come get me?”

“Now? Yeah. Of course. Let me just get my shoes on. See you in thirty?”

Gemma agreed, though she wished you’d ignore some of the speed signs along the way and you laughed, promising to grab a Vitamin Water from the fridge before you left.

You noticed another message come through just as you hung up with Gemma. August was in his office. He didn’t want you to think you’d been abandoned, but he had to get an early start for meetings and wanted to let you sleep in. You texted him you were off to get Gemma. Chat bubbles appeared and disappeared a few times before a solitary frowny face finally appeared.

With no idea how to respond and not a lot of time to spare hashing it out, you dressed quickly, grateful you’d already washed off last night’s extravagance. You grabbed the keys to Gemma’s car, grabbed a water from the gym, and headed back out to the garage.

Gemma was still too dazed to inquire much about why you were absent from your phone last night and you didn’t offer any conversation about it. The whole drive was pretty quiet except for the radio. August was gone when you got back and while Gemma couldn’t care less, you were a little let down. You’d hoped you’d be able to at least sit with him a bit while Gemma slept off the rest of her hangover, but that wasn’t to be.

He kept himself pretty scarce the rest of the week, too, texting Gemma he wouldn’t be home for dinner any of the nights until you were scheduled to head back home for Christmas Eve. Four long-suffering nights and days filled with late breakfasts by the pool and dinner and drinks in town with Mike and other friends. You barely got to say goodbye to August as he breezed off to one final meeting the morning of the 24th before Gemma came upstairs to grab coffee.

Christmas was low key with just the six of you at your parents. No other relatives were traveling in and no one else nearby had invited you over for anything special. Gemma always celebrated alone with her dad, too. Your aunt wanted to take you and your mom to the sales the day after Christmas and that was an all day, exhausting affair. You were in bed by 9.

Over the next five days, you visited with Gemma and Mike, old high school friends, and your parents a few times. But never August. Gemma said as wonderful as Christmas was with him, he was stressing about the deal and spending all his time at the office since the day after. He needed to get the deal signed by the 31st at the absolute latest. And his company’s New Year’s Eve gala was set for the Grand Hotel downtown. He’d offered you both tickets, but Gemma really wanted to hang out with Mike.

Will was nice enough, if a little on the arrogant side. He was a good kisser and you could kinda imagine what he might be able to do with that mouth placed somewhere else, but then you really thought about it and decided the missing facial hair would change the feel. Nevermind. He was at least gracious about the letdown.

The drive back to school was a little somber. You were still trying to figure out if there was any possibility of a roommate swap. Gemma offered to just put you up at her place for the semester, but you didn’t want to sleep on a couch fantasizing about her father while she was in the other room. Maybe Brigette would just spend all her time at Charlie’s, like you should have.

A few days after the start of classes, a small package arrived for you in your mailbox. You’d grabbed it on the way to your Criminal Procedures lecture and stuck it in your backpack to open later. When you got back to your room after taking advantage of office hours to clear the theme for your research paper, you sat cross legged on your bed and opened the small, cardboard box. Inside, nestled in tiny, delicate packing peanuts, was an even smaller, embossed white paper sleeve surrounding a small, red velvety square box.

Inside was a thin, delicate gold chain, with a charm of black onyx arranged in the gold outline of an art deco wing. An angel's wing.

You searched the box for a card and finally found one buried under the packing material once you realized you’d opened the box upside down. There was a simple message to you.

'Angel. This belongs on the part of you I never got the chance to chain. Remember all you are worth and take it as you can. Yours for one night. - A’

Taglist (if you are crossed out I can’t tag you)

Anything: @kittenofdoomage @sillyrabbit81 @kebabgirl67 @feelmyroarrrr @beck07990 @mysweetlittledesire @mollymal @summersong69  (Old times sake? @littlegreenplasticsoldier @sebbytrash @anotherwinchesterfangirl )

Holiday Angel: @angelcavill66 @lizzystuffsthings​ @plaidcat4815 @augustsprincess  @alexakeyloveloki @gofirityouguys

#august walker #august walker x reader #august walker fanfic #august walker fanfiction #august walker au #ceo!august walker #ceo!august #best friend's dad #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #holiday angel #mine

[auncyen]

and another little scene THIS IS THE LAST ONE I'M POSTING UNTIL I UPDATE ON AO3 JUST BECAUSE I REALLY SHOULDN'T SPOIL MY OWN FIC THIS MUCH but like. I'm also just excited that I'm writing. And the mental image of this scene has been in my head for way too long lol

-

"You're…real this time, right?"

Siffrin has always been on the quiet side, but this question could have been whispered by a mouse. You nearly miss it; Isabeau reacts first while you're still parsing it. "Sif? Of, of course we're real! Can't you tell??"

Siffrin flinches away, shrinking into their cloak with a faint "sorry", and you know.

They can't. They can't tell. Not well enough to be sure.

Have they been hallucinating? How long, that they're doubting their own sight right now? "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry," they whisper. "I'm sorry, I lost you. I'm sorry, I have to make sure you're fine, I have to be sure, I have to loop back--"

"Siffrin," you say loudly, just as their hand lights on their dagger. Why is he reaching for his dagger if he's going to loop back? No, no, that's not the issue right now. The issue is that they cannot loop back. You'll forget everything. He won't tell you again, not if this is how things end. You cannot have him looping. "If--If you can't trust that you're seeing us," you say, thinking quickly. "What if I touched you?"

Your question works in that it distracts Siffrin. His eye widens as they stare at you, the surprise clear as crystal on his face. "Huh?"

His hand falls away from the dagger.

You don't like that it was there to begin with, but you need to convince them while you have their attention. "If you're doubting sight and sound, touch would be the next logical option. It may be distasteful to you, but…" You raise your left hand with a deliberate slowness so that it's clearly in their vision. "If I touched you, would that be enough reassurance?"

He stares at you for a moment. The 'no' is already ringing in your mind. If he goes for the dagger again you'll need to use your Craft to slow him down and grab him--or hope Isabeau grabs him--but why would he reach for the dagger? He said he was going to loop, he said he was going to loop last night, how does he choose when to loop when he's made it clear he can't control the looping itself? The only answer coming readily to mind is abhorrent--

His hand moves up, further away from the dagger. Both of his hands reach up to the top of his head, snatching his hat off to hold by the brim as he stares at you, light eye unblinking.

"You want me to put my hand on your head?" you guess, trying to make sense of the silent response. The question elicits a nod, and it seems…logical enough--their cloak and gloves would mute any touch on his body, and the face and neck would likely feel too vulnerable--so you move your hand toward the bird's nest of hair, still slowly, not wanting to alarm them. He's so tense. "Breathe, Siffrin." You don't want them panicking, and you certainly don't want them fainting, either.

He breathes deeply in a familiar way. In and out. He still stares at your hand as it approaches, but at least he knows it's coming. Both his hands are occupied with the hat and won't make a Craft sign by accident. He has time to object, either with words or a gesture, if he realizes it will be too much.

You lower your hand into his hair in a waltz count, one-two-three. Immediately you encounter tangles and take care of where your fingers go in his unkempt hair. He tenses up even more, his breath hitching, but otherwise doesn't move. You hope that means they trust you.

"I'm real, Siffrin," you tell him, putting all the self-assurance you can muster into your voice. "As are Isabeau, Mirabelle, and Boniface. We're fine. We were only separated for a few moments."

"…Anything could have happened," they whisper.

"Nothing did. And even if it had, we're a bit hardier than that."

He winces. "I'm sorry I lost you."

You can't help the dry exasperation that creeps back into your voice. "Then don't storm off again. Straightforward enough, don't you think?"

He quickly nods several times, the motion frantic under your hand.

"We're here, and we're okay. You're…" They're not fine. You can't bring yourself to say that they're fine when it's plainly untrue, especially after how often they've misused that word in the past day, but you need to reassure them somehow. "You aren't alone. We're here with you. Do you trust me?"

The nods are less frantic this time. He seems to be calming down. He's still rigid, though. Touch has done its job and now it's only making them uncomfortable, so you start to take your hand away--

And then they bunt your hand with their forehead. Their eye darts up to look you in the face before it widens in horror. Siffrin takes two quick steps back, his gaze dropping back to the floor as he jams his hat back on. "Sorry! Sorry!" With his shoulders hunching up, his cloak and hat eclipse his entire expression.

"Siffrin?" Mirabelle asks. Isabeau and Boniface are both looking at you, likely trying to gauge what Siffrin did that they're apologizing. You're trying to figure that out yourself. The way he moved…certainly, you're not harmed. They tapped against your hand with only a little bit of force; if anything, it reminded you of how one of Ka Bue or Poteria's many friendly stray cats, comfortable around people, would sometimes ease up to you as you were reading in the open and bunt your hand to signal they wanted to be pet.

You doubt that was anywhere near Siffrin's intention. They hate being touched. Still… you wonder what that expression meant. Before he'd gotten scared, the expression he'd given you had been almost…

The only way you'll figure it out is if you ask. And if, hopefully, you get a straight answer. "What are you apologizing for this time?"

#siffrin #odile #in stars and time #in stars and time spoilers #act 5 au

[allyheart707]

So my sona hasn't really made an appearance due to me not being much of an artist or posting my own stuff very often, but the pfp on my writing blog is kind of an early version of her. She's a humanoid Gold Cross variation nine-tailed fox, (because Gold Cross foxes are gorgeous and I love them), and she has the ability to turn into a human when she needs to. This is the human:

Because of course it is I use her image for almost all my main characters because she resembles me so it's just easy. I'm also goth so of course she is too. When in human form her eyes are blue but in her fox form they're red-orange. She also usually only has one tail out unless she needs to use a lot of power for something and they all come out, and her eyes glow blue when she's using her magic in human form and red in fox form. And she can shrink down to a normal four-legged fox as well if she wants to. And she has mental powers because I love giving characters mental powers so at points where it seems like she knows what other characters are thinking it's because she actually does know. But she doesn't intentionally read minds unless given permission or prompted by a dire need. She just knows surface level thoughts because she can't control seeing those most of the time.

Anyway sorry for the info dump I just really love my girl and sorry this took me a bit I've had an interesting day. Here's my girl trying to rescue some turtle babies! Starting out in her human form because how else can she infiltrate a top-secret high-security government building?

"Well, I do love kids. And I have been told I'm good with them."

I turn away from the scientist to look in the window. The four mutant turtle children I was told about are bouncing around what looks like an interrogation room, climbing over the table and running around it. One of them is even making faces through the window.

"So, hopefully that'll work in my favor...." I'm suddenly concerned with the fact that these are actual children thrown into an interrogation room like crime suspects.

"Hopefully," the man rolls his eyes, moving past me to open the door. "We're running out of options here."

"Can I ask a quick question though?" This is a bad idea. I shouldn't do this.

He turns to me, glaring, obviously just wanting to get this "interview" over with.

"What?"

Just do your job, May.

"Is there possibly somewhere else I could take them? To make them feel more comfortable?"

Dammit.

He squints at me, not understanding why their comfort would even be a thought on my mind.

"This is an interrogation, not a playdate."

"They're children. What if a playdate is what it takes to get them talking?"

He thinks for a moment, glancing towards the kids in the window.

"Well, there's their bedroom, I suppose. They're not allowed many places. For obvious reasons."

Don't you dare ask.

"What if I took them around the facility?"

Stop it!

This earns me another glare as he whips his head back towards me.

"Why would you do that?"

"Well, they've gotta be curious, right? Don't worry! I won't be taking them anywhere they absolutely shouldn't go! Just, like, the hallways in the main area and places other agents don't frequent. And places they can't mess with or break anything important. They don't know what they're missing, right? Since they've never seen it before? So they won't know I'm not actually showing them anything important."

He ponders for a moment, turning the idea over in his head and going through all the pros and cons. He seems to be leaning towards a negative response when he suddenly sighs and shakes his head, clearing all the thoughts away.

"Fine. But remember, there are cameras everywhere. If you do anything against protocol or allow them to do anything damaging to the building or the project, you're fired."

"Of course! I would never."

He studies me again for a long moment before opening the door and motioning for me to enter the room.

"Hi boys!" I greet cheerily once I can see all of them. "How are you all doing today?"

"Great!" The little box turtle exclaims, jumping up onto the table. "I've never seen this room before!"

"You haven't?" I ask, patting his head, much to his delight. "What do you think it's for?"

"Games?" He asks hopefully.

"It's an interrogation room," the softshell states, sitting in a chair next to the table. "Like I told you. It's where they ask people questions."

The slider leans against the wall and crosses his arms with attitude.

"I'm not telling you people anything."

"Oh, I'm not here to ask those types of questions," I explain.

"What are you here for, then?" The softshell asks, skeptical.

"I'm your new teacher!"

The little turtle lights up at this, eyes growing as wide as possible as he leans forward in the chair. The others seem confused.

"What's that?" The snapper asks.

"A teacher is someone who helps you learn things you don't know," I explain. "We're in this room because they didn't have any other rooms prepared, but hopefully one day we can have an actual classroom!"

"Yes!" The softshell jumps up and down in excitement, waving his hands around. "And we can learn things properly, just like the people in my books!"

I have to smother a laugh at that. I wasn't expecting them to be this cute.

"Pft," the slider scoffs. "What can you learn from books? Can you teach us how to fight? That would be useful."

"I can," I lean down to his level and whisper in his ear. "I happen to be a very strong ninja who trained under the greatest ninja master of all time."

His eyes widen, and I see a glimmer of his own excitement shine in his eyes as he looks to me with a new sense of awe and admiration.

Straightening back up, I look around to all of them.

"Now! My name is May. Before we get started, I would like to know all of your names as well."

The box turtle and softshell give each other a strange look, but the snapper jumps forward excitedly.

"I'm Raph!" He answers me with his tail wagging happily behind him.

"Hi Raph," I pat his head, and he squeaks in delight.

"Heishi..." The slider says quietly.

"Nice to meet you, Heishi," I hold my hand out to him. After a quiet moment of staring, he tentatively takes it, shaking it slowly.

"We don't have names," the softshell tells me.

"Yeah we do!" The box turtle jumps back up from having sat down on the table. "Raph told us!"

"Shh!" The softshell scolds his brother, pulling his arm to have him sit again. The box turtle does so, pouting.

"If you don't want to tell me your names, how about I just call you Orange and Purple? Because of the colors of your markings."

The box turtle looks down at his arms as if he's never seen the spots before while the softshell scrunches up his nose.

"It's just for now, anyway," I reassure them. "Just until you're comfortable with telling me your names or you come up with your own."

The orange one turns to his brother with a questioning look, and receives a shrug in response. He then turns back to beam at me and nods.

"Alright then!" I clap my hands together. "Let's get started. Today, we're going on a tour of the facility!"

Why must I always try to rescue animals I find? I mean, I know these are kids, but they belong to the government and are kept in a high-security building.

The plan I have is a good one, but it could end up putting the boys in danger if it goes wrong.

Heishi lights up at the prospect of seeing the rest of the building. He turns towards the door and looks back to us over his shoulder.

"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go!"

Donnie was fairly certain that something was up, though he didn't have enough of the pieces to figure it out just yet. Why would they take them to a brand new room just to take them out again? And especially when they knew how much of a flight risk Heishi was.... was she trying to give them a chance to escape?

Well, he wasn't going to jinx it, so he simply followed behind her quietly as she led them out of the interrogation room classroom?

In the map he had studied during their first failed escape, he had learned that there were six halls- all with different purposes. Hall C, however, was reserved entirely for them. It was the only hall they had ever been in and it was so alluring to know that there were six whole halls that they had never seen.

And then, outside of those halls...?

Not that it really mattered, because unless their new escape plan worked out better, Hall C was all he would ever see.

"This room is-" "The testing room. We know." He mumbled, rolling his eyes- The only reason they were having the tour was for their new subjects. Him and Mikey new everything on this hall by heart, and there was no way this stranger would be approved to take them out of it. "Yeah, but please, bare with me on this. I promise this tour will be a lot more interesting soon." She asked kindly as her face scanned the hall, looking for... something? What was she looking for?

Her eyes seemed to light up as one of the scientists in the hallway walked by Dr. Meanie-pants, striking up a conversation.

It wasn't going to keep him distracted for long, but it seemed a few seconds was all she needed for... whatever her plan was.

"Okay, follow me. Oh, and uuuuh, be prepared to run." She winked at them as she pulled Mikey with her, speed walking down the hall, past the testing room, then the meeting room, and Hall C's storage-

wait

Were they leaving hall C?!

#ally asks #rottmnt #tmnt #rise of the tmnt #little subjects au #turtle tots #rottmnt seperated au #little subjects 1000

[liyazaki]

the twist of a knife

"I am the knife. I am all blade.” -Clementine von Radics

falling down symbolism rabbit holes isn't really my bag. unless it's laid out for the audience in crystal-clear terms that "yes, X was indeed meant to mean Y" (by the writers or the script itself), I don't dedicate much mental energy to those elements in my fiction.

but something about that knife- the visceral image of Pete gripping it by the blade for dear agonizing life was haunting me. I kept circling back to the opening conversation on the bed, and the moment where Vegas' rage went up in smoke- and again, that knife. then it hit me.

like knives forged just so, no one can hurt Pete or Vegas quite like they can. and not just because of their mutual vulnerability, their love, for each other- like @ellaspore said to me, how deep they get under each other's skin.

it's their fundamental struggles, their shame, who they are at their core: if people can be 'made' for each other, Vegas and Pete were also made just so to perfectly hurt the other.

the first blow came from Vegas. lying together in the afterglow, of all the things Vegas could say, he said: "you're just a fool." just four words- pretty benign-sounding, all horrible things Vegas has said before considered.

Pete didn't have some explosive reaction, either. and that makes sense- a quiet knife slipped between the ribs is too exact, too surgical for all that. instead, Pete turned his face slowly away from Vegas, suddenly lost in his thoughts- while Vegas, still grinning in lighthearted ignorance, followed his movement with his hand, stroking Pete's face. Pete's far away now, though, his gaze focused on the ceiling.

we start to see the damage when we cut back to Pete later. Pete- who just last episode was chastising Vegas for "being stupid" for hurting himself- now slaps himself in the face. "I don't like it. so why didn't I say no?"

the killing cut was delivered when Pete's worst fear- that all of this loss and fear and pain was for nothing- was confirmed by Vegas' attack. there was no righteous rage left in Pete, hollowed out by the realization that he "has nothing left."

in his compassion, in his curiosity about this wounded, broken man- he's afraid he's lost everything. who he is, what he stands for, his self-respect, his pride- he's been stripped bare. not just by everything Vegas has done to him, but by the depth of his feelings for him in spite of it all.

that one little phrase, those four little words from Vegas cut to the heart of Pete's fears: he's not only lost it all, some of those things against his will- but the rest was by his own submission. his own volition. the definition of a fool.

on the other beautifully-tragic side of the coin, Pete cut Vegas at his emotional knees in a way no one else could. even after abusing Pete, beating him, treating him so inhumanely- darkness can only run from the light for so long. Vegas found a sliver of genuine happiness just by having Pete in his sphere.

after a lifetime of wretchedness, of thinking this misery is all life has to offer, that there's no way out- Vegas' world started to crack open for the first time in that room.

seeing Pete completely lose his joy, his humanity, his will to keep going- and knowing that he was the one that caused it- was the only thing that could snap Vegas out of his rage. and it was the reality hitting of losing him that nearly broke Vegas. he is the monster- just like he always feared.

it's also not just the idea of ruining this man he's come to love- it's the ruination of hope. of a different way of living, existing, being. no one else could deal as deep of a blow- even though Vegas himself is really the one that dealt it.

and yet- and yet. just like the agonizing way Pete let that blade cut deep into his palm, invited it, even- they can't help but hold on to the sweet agony of their connection. even after freeing himself from his imprisonment, Pete is breaking apart. Vegas is leveled, shattered by his grief. they weep, they mourn- the cuts bleed.

sometimes, love is as much about grief as it is joy- to know that in a world that hurts so deeply, so frequently? the most vulnerable, aching parts of you are at another person's complete mercy.

that they hold your heart in their hands, and you can't just take it back. there's rage there, sometimes- shades of desperation, too.

horrible, beautiful, cruel, agonizing love- like the twist of a knife.

#kinnporsche #kinnporsche the series #kinnporsche ep 13 #vegaspete #biblebuild #bible wichapas #build jakapan #kinnporsche meta #kinnporsche analysis #kp meta #tonanons #tuserfaiza #usernuria #userjap #tosnimeat #kp edit #vegaspete meta #kinnporsche*

[mschismosa]

Hey can i ask yall something, am I the only one who does this, bc it has recently come to my attention that I exhibit freak behavior. It's for art reasons though.

I ramble about this a little bit u can ignore me

I hate that I started doing this bc i'll be somewhere & catch myself looking really spaced out touching my jaw or something. In my mind I'm trying to visualize the jawline i wanna draw but I bet i just look like a freak lmao 😭

I have the adhd, I can't afford to exit the drawing app & get distracted so i end up doing this. It's like my personal quick reference trick. Feeling the features of my face as I draw helps me visualize the shapes in a 3D way, does that make sense?

Anyway i felt like admitting this stupid habit of mine bc I just wonder if others do this?? But also I recommend it if you're more of a tactile learner. Sometimes clear reference images still don't make sense to me but this does. Particularly when thinking about how light/shadows hit a certain part of your face or like visualizing lines and shapes and small overlooked features. Like, how often do you really think about noses and ears and cheekbones... I have gone into mental rabbitholes thinking about variety in facial features compared to my own and how the feel & structure differ and then wonder how I'd apply it to drawing. Same goes for like visualizing expressions by feeling the pull and tension of muscle & such. It really helps me figure out how faces work and in a way makes simplifying it in drawings a little easier even. Of course I still look at references but it takes this to really GET it in an irl sense. Its usually not this deep though, I just find feeling something is faster for like remembering the basic build of it without having to look it up. hence the comic. Im aware my skills/ability to actually draw what I think are still too limited to be parading this as some kind of secret art hack but idk? I think you can learn a lot from your own face. Or maybe I have too much time on my hands and I've tricked myself into thinking im onto something lmao

Sorry im aware this is how I look rn

#please tell me you get it #i gave myself the morning to doodle #but then i ended up thinking too much about this lol #im still procrastinating packing #back to work #chisme

[bosskie]

2 Years Ol' Blog 'n' 3D Molluck Stuff

Man, having this blog has been a ride... I posted my first post here on 1st April 2022 and created this blog/account a few days before. During this whole time, my mental health issues have affected my blog and I was about to delete it before I even posted anything but I still decided to give it a try since I already got some followers; it felt supportive. I was surprised to have such a warm welcoming here and it still warms my heart. I still had some moments when I had to hide all my posts since I just couldn't stand my own stuff. Sometimes, it still comes to my mind but I'm doing my best to try to learn to at least tolerate my own creations. I feel sorry for being like this but only if it was easy to get rid of self-hatred... I also just tend to only see all my mistakes I have made when I look at my stuff, all the things I should learn...

But I try to be positive here, even I just tend to see darkness when I think about my own future. I just don't believe in myself... Originally, I didn't wanna be personal here but it just happened when one anon asked me if I had more art to show... I didn't since I have hidden all my old art. I have been on Tumblr for 10+ years but never posted anything until I created this blog. What brought me here was the active Oddworld community, the lovely people here. Even I think dim things about myself like every day, I do appreciate your support! Even I have my own difficulties with believing in that I have any talent/skills, compliments are light to my own dark image of myself.

I'll talk more later on this post but now, I'll show some 3D Molluck stuff and well, talk about Molluck... I show first my first Molluck sculpt I did improve today (yesterday):

I would still say that this is a WIP since well, there do is stuff to improve and do but yeah, I think that it would be wiser to let this be now and redo this since this is done in such an amateur way... There is no way to animate this since its geometry is a nightmare... I was able to rig this a bit when it wasn't so detailed, test out animating it but then, it became impossible. But well, the truth is that I do have still made animations with this despite of that... Frankly, the reason why I created this sculpt was my thirst for Molluck, how much I wish I was able to be with him... But this has helped me out multiple times with my drawings too!

I'm still not totally sure about some things of his anatomy but I have been doing my best to figure it out. I also realize that this sculpt makes Molluck look a bit more muscular/bigger than he is (see his neck and head size) but I have tried my best with fixing this situation since he did look even more bulky back then... The difference ain't too big but well, I do can create my own version of him too! I also see that this ain't 100 % correct when it comes to his face too but I tried my best. I'm still a beginner with 3D stuff, so I didn't use the best methods to do this either... I also feel like I just learned new things about his head when I compared this to the SoulStorm model recently... So yeah, this sculpt is a mixture of SoulStorm model, good ol' concept art of Gluk anatomy and my own adjustments. I only say SoulStorm model because it's based on New 'n' Tasty model, so he probably looks like the same under the suit but yes, that naked Molluck model has been my main reference for his body. The biggest change I have done compared to that has been his hands since I love his hand in that concept art! They are just the best hands, the most beautiful hands I know... But well, his whole body is the most beautiful body, at least for me!

Yeah, I think that I have made it quite clear how much I would love to have him... I already have said it but, he is my only desire... I cannot help myself with that Molluck is 'a perfect man' for me... No one else has felt right for me, there was always something off... But frankly, even I have seen multiple people being thirsty for Molluck, I have seen no one else wanting him like I do... None of that 'spicy' Molluck art I have seen reminds me of mine. It's just interesting how differently I see him since in the others' 'spicy art' Molluck has similar vibe and role... I don't really want Molluck because I have a thirst for him; I only have a thirst for him because I love him and for me, it's about sharing and giving love! I truly wish to make him feel good and loved. I have decided that I don't post my NSFW Molluck content but some cropped stuff but I could still post some suggestive things, though like I have said, I see him from a different perspective than the ones I have seen, with what I mean that he is 'the receiver'. I have just never seen him in this role by the others. I guess that this can explain why I have said that for me, he already has 'the stuff', no need for 'the usual additions'. His body also just feels more 'elegant' when there is no such a thing. This is just my preference, you can have yours. But it's just interesting to see how my way to imagine/see Molluck differs from the others. Though yes, I do remember when that one Molluck ask blog was still active and at least one person asked if Molluck liked things in his ass... Might have been just harassment or no one has just published such a content...

Frankly, I do actually prefer his back view instead of his front view, even I have been drawing it more... It's just that I'm unsure of how to handle nudity here... I don't wanna post his ass in front of the people who don't wanna see it... Nudity is natural for me but I just don't wanna make anyone feel uncomfortable because of my naked Molluck stuff... I just adore his body, so gotta draw it... Man, I would just keep talking how much I love his different body parts but I save you from that...

So, yeah, let's move on! I have already shown this one but I feel like reposting it now:

This is my stylized, simple Molluck model from last summer (2023). It's close to be finished since it's meant to be simple but some details are missing. You might wonder what's this style: Back then, I was inspired by Osamu Sato and his old video game graphics, so I wanted to create something similar to his style. I would like to try to rig this and then try to create more 3D models. Man, I would like to do so much 3D stuff... Oh, and yeah, it would be fun to make a naked version of him with this style too! I just have so much Molluck art ideas inside my head...

Oh, and yeah, I have been thinking for a longer time if I should show this or not but this feels like the right place to do it. So yes, I have created like a year ago a Molluck sim for The Sims 2. I know that it can look odd but he cannot look much better without doing own mods... I don't know how to mod these games but would like to learn it.

But yeah, I pretty muchly abused the face sliders here and did my own textures but also found a cigar for him. I did improve his face over time since I also needed to see how it works in the game. I also needed to lift his face after I found the cigar to place it into his mouth. It's basically only possible to create him to The Sims 2 like this because of the Body Shop is such a great tool and it actually lets you to use those face sliders without a limit: just edit the sim over and over again. Though yes, there is a tool to paint your sim's textures in The Sims 1 but it's such a pain to use... Oh, and you might notice those little dots: I just love to add his nevi to him, like you might have noticed from my drawings!

And yeah, my only reason for creating this Molluck sim was my self-insert stuff, even I do prefer him like he is, not as 'an anthro'... I just crave for this Gluk every day... Well, the good thing is that I'm able to create stuff about him, so I get some help even I know that I'll never get him... Also, even I recently said that marriage feels odd, it has now started to make some sense to me... I mean, I have started to feel alright about it. Maybe it's that my feeling of Molluck being 'the one' for me is getting stronger and stronger or it's a sign of my healing since I have just felt like it's better that no one is bound to me... Maybe it's the both. But despite of this, I still value the friendship the most since it's the strongest relationship type, so when the relationship is based on it, it's stronger than mere romance ect. I don't know if it sounds odd or not but for the first time, I actually feel good about marrying Molluck.

But yeah, this has already been a long post but just wanna say some stuff related to my blog:

I have multiple reasons why I tend to turn reblogs off and it's only for my own mental health, not that I had anything against you. Sometimes, I just kinda hate to see myself posting so actively, so I don't really like to see my stuff on someone else's blog either... I have never really known what to think about reblogs... Also, I don't like some technical things related to them, so it also makes me prefer to have them off. Maybe there somewhere my feeling of that I'm just ruining everything, also this community, affects this too... It's at least one big reason why I don't really interact here, even I would like to.

The truth is that I have never pressed the like button here, even I would have liked to, and it's just because of me feeling like it's better that I'm invisible. I tend to feel ashamed of myself, think that I'm a failure... It's not easy for me to be open and relaxed but I just wish to talk about Molluck so much that this happens... I do have other things in my life too but it's much more difficult for me to talk about them... I just feel like that if I didn't have Molluck, I wouldn't post any content right now, would have disappeared from the Internet. It's like extremely difficult for me to create an online imago, 'sell myself', build a portfolio... It has felt like this is gonna be my doom... My own self-hatred... But I'm still trying my best and going to make a big investment to this stuff this year, so that I can create better 3D stuff and use Unreal Engine. It's just for my future, otherwise I wouldn't feel ready to do it. I'm just trying to believe in myself, even it feels so difficult... I just wanna be honest about what I'm going thru since it affects my content a lot.

I have already written so much, so it's probably the best to end this post. But before that, I do wanna thank for all your support and your understanding, patience... I thought that I would probably be left all alone again after I open up about the hell I have inside my mind, that probably no one actually wants me to be here, like I'm used to think, but I have been wrong. It really touches me that I have been welcomed here and despite of everything, you still wish to support me. It's just about to make me cry, especially when, frankly, suicidal thoughts are quite common for me, been for over a decade. It's just like something daily... I'm so used to it. But something always just tells me not to do it, even I have thought about it like over a thousand times, if not thousands of times... Sometimes, I just think that I should be Molluck's next meat product but in my imagination, he still tells me that he would only lose money if he did that because I'm priceless.

I don't expect that people really read my stuff but I do really appreciate all the time you spend on my stuff since time is valuable! I just kinda need to write this stuff to here since I spend like almost all of my time alone and there somewhere I also wish that all this writing could help the others who also deal with similar mental health problems. I often feel like no healing has actually happened but I see from little things that slow healing is happening, like that I feel now alright about marrying Molluck and it only happened like a few days ago. I'm just starting to find happiness thru Molluck but he alone hasn't still helped me to heal. Even my mind keeps telling me it's a waste to support me and I have difficulties with receiving compliments, all support is still helping me.

Sometimes, I still think about this anon's words from about two years ago: 'I am cheering you and Molluck on and toasting to your brilliance.' The other compliments I have also gotten do also echo inside my head from time to time but I just wanted to say that I would have never imagined something like this to be said to me and these words do really mean a lot to me still. Toasting also just sounded fitting for this anniversary, so even this feels difficult for me, because I suffer from this severe self-hatred, I wish to toast to myself, for keeping going, even it has been so difficult, felt so tempting to end this all... But I wouldn't have still made it this far alone, so thanks for my family, all the lovely people who have supported me thru my life but also OWI for creating Molluck( and Oddworld)! It just feels like a miracle that I'm still here.

~ Much love!

#molluck #oddworld molluck #molluck the glukkon #art like a bosskie #oddworld

[blackjackkent]

The guards inside the creche entrance round on them with startling rapidity the moment they show their faces.

"Sentries! To arms!" one of them snaps. Her eyes fix on Rakha in a sharp glare like that which she has often seen in Lae'zel's expression. "Istik. State your purpose - quickly."

"Stand down, gish," Lae'zel snaps back, equally sharp. "Is it not Vlaakith's command to welcome her faithful?"

"I expected no visitors, faithful or otherwise," the guard says coolly. "Why have you come?"

Rakha's eyes narrow warily. The antagonistic tone sends a flicker of irritation through her, something that could easily spiral into something more. But for Lae'zel's sake, she keeps her tone even with an effort of will. "I was infected by an illithid," she says. Little point in dancing around the subject; Lae'zel has made it clear that this is something the gith know of already - along with how to deal with it. "And was told to seek a githyanki creche."

She waits for the gish to direct them - but instead, the other woman's eyes widen and her mouth sets in a thin line.

"You are infected?" She spits the word out like a curse. "A ghaik thrall is something to eradicate, not reason with."

Her hand is already going towards her sword, and Rakha feels her pulse start to thump in her temple with the sense of impending battle. But Lae'zel's voice cuts across the moment, shattering it.

"The faithful may be purified!" she snaps. "This is Vlaakith's protocol!"

(A/N: I remember being a little baffled by this on my first playthrough - that Lae'zel seems so confident about this while it seems like literally every other githyanki clearly already knows the score. It makes sense for Voss to be like 'nah actually you're gonna die' - he's already rebelling against Vlaakith - but even this random guard goes straight past the cleansing concept and straight to 'time to eradicate this thrall.'

I find it kind of interesting tbh.

On the one hand - clearly this is partly a manifestation of how young Lae'zel is under all that confidence. The implication seems to be that yeah, it's hammered into you in your training that you need to report to a ghustil and get "purified" if you're ever infected, but that once you're actually out on duty it becomes an open secret that "purification" is just another word for death; Lae'zel just didn't happen to get that far before the nautiloid picked her up.

However - this leads to other questions. How are there not more rebels, if it's common to reach a point where you realize the purification lie is nonsense? What is the party line within these more adult units? Alternatively - is K'liir unique (and uniquely cruel) in framing it as a salvation, and every other creche treats it like a necessary sacrifice on behalf of the greater group?

IDK, I'm getting rambly here but it's intriguing to ponder. The whole creche sequence, if I'm honest, isn't always entirely clear in its writing, but if some of the minor holes are extrapolated I think it gets kind of interesting. :D )

The guard stares at Lae'zel for a long moment, reading her expression very carefully. Then she nods slowly, her lip curling with evident disdain. "Chk. Fine. Let the ghustil carry out your fate. Report to the infirmary at once."

Her eyes move over Rakha and the others briefly, then back to Lae'zel. "And step carefully. Creche Y'llek watches you."

-----

"She did not expect us to request purification," Rakha mutters matter-of-factly as they walk on further into the creche.

"I know," Lae'zel says curtly.

"You said it was a protocol. A standard procedure."

"It is," Lae'zel hisses. "That she did not honor it is no fault of mine."

"Voss also did not."

"Voss is a traitor. Should I find him again, I shall feed him pieces of his own skull."

Rakha tries hard to ignore the way the beast in her head shivers at this mental image. "But why do they deny it?"

"I don't know!" Lae'zel snaps at her; her voice whips out like a weapon, sharp as the blade on her back. "These inane questions serve nothing. Let us find the ghustil and finish matters."

#bjk plays bg3 durge #rakha the dark urge #bjk writes her own party banter #poor lae'zel is trying so hard and the whole thing just comes crashing down around her ears #and rakha is trying so hard to *believe* her and *trust* her and everyone's going to get bitten as a result #solid tragedy lol

[allegra-writes]

"Love bites"

Daniel Molloy x Armand

Mature

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of sex, mentions of blood, general awkwardness.

Disclaimer: I don't own the vampire Armand or Daniel Molloy, nor will I be accepting tips for this story or any story set in Anne Rice's Immortal Universe. Ashley, Jackie and Boss the cat however, are all mine.

MY MASTERLIST

Daniel Molloy was fucked. Well and truly fucked. And not even in the fun way, though that had definitely happened. In fact, that was exactly how he had ended up where he was, sitting on his couch, hastily draped in his bathrobe, with Armand clad only in his plaid blue boxers next to him while his older daughter, Ashley, paced agitatedly in front of them. 

The irony of the situation wasn't lost to Daniel, as he sat precisely on the same spot his daughter had when fourteen years before, when he had walked in on her and her first girlfriend, but if Ashley noticed, she wasn't amused by it. Not that Daniel blamed her, as traumatizing as it had been for him and his wife to come home early from a convention only to be assaulted by the loud moans and sounds that couldn't be mistaken for anything else coming from their teenage daughter's room, he figured it didn’t quite compared to the eyeful she had gotten of her geriatric father bent over the kitchen counter while his (vampire) lover pounded into him from behind. Good thing she was a shrink, she probably knew a friendly colleague or two willing to offer her a good deal on the therapy she was sure going to need.

He could practically feel the eye-roll Armand repressed, the immortal’s mind a soft, welcome presence against his own. Daniel couldn’t help but to draw comfort from it, even as he had to wonder how was his daughter able to bypass it. It was easy for Daniel, with his failing human senses, to miss her arrival, but surely Armand, so proficient at the mind gift, had to sense her coming?

Armand let out a soft, almost imperceptible huff beside him. Some things never change, do they, Daniel? Always overestimating me, Armand’s velvet voice resonated through his brain right before it was flooded with images of himself watched from the outside, bent over the granite, the feeling of his own heat around Armand’s hardness, the heady flavor of his blood on Armand’s tongue, the electrifying feeling on the inside of Armand’s wrist where Daniel’s mouth was latched onto it, the starbursts exploding through Armand’s veins with every pull Daniel took, all tinted by the most unadulterated, overwhelming, possessive love Daniel had ever felt. It was beyond intoxicating. Clearly, human brains weren't wired for that amount of stimuli, a simple glimpse, one quick flash, and Daniel felt ready to pass out, but it made Armand’s point crystal clear, Daniel definitely understood now how her daughter’s presence could have flown under Armand’s mental radar. 

It also made him unnecessarily flustered in front of his daughter, which Daniel did not appreciate. He was focusing on sending the shameless vampire a mental chastising when his daughter finally spoke.

“You may want to clean up that…”

“Armand” He provided, usefully, face so perfectly candid it had to be on purpose. Too bad if there was anyone in the world capable of resisting Armand’s puppy dog eyes, it was Ashley.

“Righ, Armand. You may want to clean that up, put some Neosporin on it” Ashley repeated, gesturing at Armand's bloody wrist, clutched in his hand. He probably had his fingers wrapped around it to hide that the wound had already healed, but as it was, it looked like he was cradling it in pain. “Looks like a pretty nasty bite…”

Daniel hid his face in his hands, wishing the earth would open up, and swallow him. He guessed he should be grateful Armand had at least had the presence of mind to nick at his own tongue with his fang and heal Daniels's neck before parting when her yell of “Oh my effing god!” had sent them jumping apart. 

“Of course. If you excuse me” Armand got up and sauntered towards the bathroom with far too much dignity for a man in someone else’s underwear. Bastard. Ashley cleared her throat and Daniel noticed that, to his further embarrassment, he had been staring. 

“So, you and Armand” Daniel didn’t like the way Ashley said the name, she made it sound as dirty as when Daniel had called him rent boy, “How long has that been going on?”

What was Daniel supposed to say? That Armand was the love of his life? That they had spent twelve years together before she was born and Daniel had never gotten over it? That even though he didn’t remember it he spent the rest of his life looking for him in everyone and that was the reason her mother and him had crashed and burnt? That now that they had found each other again there was no force in the world strong enough to keep them apart, not even her? He could say they had met in Dubai, but he knew what Ashley would think of that, of a man -apparently- less than half his age moving in with him so quickly, and fine, there was no way his daughters could have an even lower concept of him than they already did, but Armand was no gold digger or fling, he was important to Daniel and he wanted his family to respect him. 

So instead, he replied,

“A while”

Ashley scoffed,

“A while? What, you were his prom date?”

“If you must know, miss Molloy, your father and I had an on-again-off-again relationship a few years ago. We recently ran into each other again in Dubai and… reconnected” Armand reappeared, wearing black silk pajama pants and a white bandage around his wrist for show “We both changed in these years. We are both wiser and more emotionally stable now, so we decided to try again”

“Years?” Daniel could see Ashley struggling to do the math in her head, “Where? When?”

“Ten years ago” Armand replied at the same time Daniel said “Miami” cause at least he wanted to be partially honest. 

“Ten- How old were you, seventeen??”

“Twenty-seven”

Ashley blanched,

“No. No way you’re seven years older than me” 

There was a little smirk on Armand’s face now, he was enjoying the situation way too much.

“I assure you, miss Molloy, I am thirty-seven years old. I can show you my passport if you’d like” 

Daniel had the impression Armand very much wanted to show her that passport, he was probably very excited about his little falsification. Ashley seemed completely lost as to how to respond to that.

“What? No, I just- I mean, look at your face and your… skin”

“If you want me to, I can refer you to my dermatologist”

“I don’t think that will be necessary” Daniel interrupted before the vein popping out from his daughter's very flushed neck could burst, “Ashley, I am aware of the age gap between us, but my relationship with Armand is and has always been a relationship between two consenting adults” Had it been toxic the first time around? Yes. Had it been fucked up and twisted? Fuck yeah. Had there been a clear power imbalance? Absolutely. But this time around, Daniel wasn’t interested in immortality, and he wasn’t afraid of Armand either, that plus his life experience had evened the field a lot for them. Of course, Armand was still richer than Bezos, but Daniel hadn’t left himself be swept off his feet to a private Island or a Dubai tower, he had demanded to return to his old apartment and his old life and Armand hadn’t fought him on it. He didn’t seem to need to control every detail of Daniel’s life like he used to, like he had done with Louis too. And that was a lot for him, wasn’t it? Armand was trying hard to be better, to make the relationship work, and be healthier than it had been the first time. And Daniel appreciated it.  “Armand is not some tinder swindler taking advantage of a sick, gullible old man and I am not a dirty old man taking advantage of a wide-eyed college freshman”

Ashley looked properly chastised after her father’s outburst, but it was obvious she still wasn’t convinced. She sat on the coffee table to be eye level with Daniel, a standard therapist move Daniel was used to being on the receiving end of after all his stunts in rehab. When she spoke again, the eye contact was intense. 

“But dad, you are sick. You have an autoimmune disease. And you took a trip in the middle of a lockdown anyway!” 

So that was why she was there, to rip him a new one. Daniel guessed he couldn’t blame her. 

“It was a one-in-a-lifetime opportunity” That he somehow had gotten twice, “I took every precaution” or rather Armand as Rashid had. Ashley didn’t need to know the details but it was probably the safest Daniel had been in almost forty years “Besides, Armand here hooked me up with some of the best doctors in the world” Definitely the best money could buy.

“Daniel is in good hands, miss Molloy. I made sure of that” 

With her first argument twarted, Ashley changed her line of reasoning.

“Dad, he looks a lot like mom, you can’t deny that. Are you sure this isn’t some… attempt to get a younger, more docile version of her?”

His daughter didn’t seem to care if her words hurt Armand or created a drift between them, planting the idea that Armand was second best, a cheap replacement for Uma. Of course, Ashley had no way of knowing It was actually her mother the one that looked like Armand, Daniel himself hadn’t known either until about three weeks ago. 

Armand chuckled.

“There is nothing docile about Armand” Daniel deadpanned, “trust me” 

His daughter opened her mouth again, no doubt to point out another concerning aspect of their relationship, but Armand interrupted her with as much poise and disingenuous politeness as he had displayed as Rashid. 

“I apologize, miss Molloy, we are being most ungracious hosts” Daniel could have sworn Ashley’s eye twitched at the word we. Armand’s smile only grew brighter, “I’m sure this conversation would be more pleasant with some tea?”

Ashley sighed, the fight going out of her.

“Actually, I could use some coffee. It’s a long drive home…”

“Sorry, you’re outta luck then” Daniel snorted, “this is a caffeine free household” 

He wasn’t sulking. He wasn’t! Armand got up and marched into the kitchen, positively vibrating with glee as he announced,

“Actually, is not her the one whose luck’s ran out, Daniel. I found your secret stash. I’m giving the whole can away to your daughter” 

Daniel shot out from the couch, to plead or to fight, but Armand’s voice inside his mind sounded determined.

You are not nearly as sneaky as you think, beloved. Forty years later, you still use the same hiding spots.

Daniel cursed internally. And to think his night had started out so great…

To Daniel’s amazement, the rest of the evening had gone by pleasantly enough. It was evident Ashley still didn’t like Armand, but at least she had been civil ebout it, only whispering “I still don’t like this” to her father during their goodbye hug by the door.

“You don’t have to” Daniel had whispered back, not unkindly. 

“I’ll come by often to check on you” She had half promised, half threatened, making Daniel smile.

“I would like that very much” 

Then, she had left, without so much as a nod towards Armand. 

“I like her” Armand decided later, as he and Daniel snuggled on the couch watching Blade Runner on Netflix (the 80s version, of course)

“Who? Ashley?” Daniel made a face, “Not sure the feeling is mutual, boss”

“She cares about you, even despite herself. She is protective of you. I can’t begrudge her that”

Daniel buried a noncommittal hum in Armand’s hair, nuzzling the soft curls. The truth was, his daughters’ visit had shook him. On the one hand, he was overjoyed she was talking to him again, after all it only had taken a terminal disease diagnose, a pandemic, and his virtual disappearance to Dubai for her to do so. On the other, he couldn’t deny her disapproval of his relationship with Armand put a damper on that happiness. He didn’t need her approval, hell, he had rarely -if ever- gotten it, but he didn’t want things to be tense between them. He didn’t want to be forced to split his limited time between those he loved because they couldn’t get along. 

“I could make her like me,” Armand commented casually, as if he wasn’t suggesting brainwashing his child, “but that’s exactly how I thought you would feel about the mather”

“So let me get this straight, you see nothing wrong with mind controlling people into liking you, except for the fact it would upset me”

“I don’t want to displease you”

Daniel grabbed Armand’s jaw with his fingertips, gently turning his head to be able to look into those bright amber eyes.

“You really are a little gremling, aren’t you?”

“I’m the love of your life”

“You heard that, didn’t you?” Daniel sighed in mock exasperation, “Just don’t let it go to your head”

Armand beamed as he tilted his head up for a kiss,

“I would never”

#daniel molloy #armand #iwtv amc #interview with the vampire #eric bosgonian #assad zaman #old maniel my beloved #the vampire armand

[rightpastnowhere]

MORE. FOR U

Ok ok ok we all collectively will not shut up about how Percy is endeared by Vex's ears, right? well UNO REVERSE CARD! His lil round human ears are so fucking cute to Vex. It's also very funny for her to parse out how sensitive they are vs half-elven or elven ears.

In modern AUs their taste in music seems very different at a glance but meshes SUPER well. Percy is rocking to MCR and anime intros and Fallout Boy and old rock'n'roll (that his dad and Julius loved), Vex is grinding to pop and country, and everyone is like 'surely not' until they pull up to give Pike a ride and are just blasting a Taylor Swift song together (she joins in obviously). Or on a train sharing earbuds and the poor folks the next seats over can hear Monster by Skillet from there and these two are mouthing along and sharing Dramatic Looks.

Trinket keeps bringing cubs home. He's a male bear, bears don't raise cubs in pairs (males don't participate at ALL), but he's a Ranger companion and lives as long as Vex does. And given he's a fit specimen he's probably the sire of a lot of cubs in the area (Vex and the Grey Hunt have got to watch out for inbreeding effects KJTRNHRKN). So every now and then he'll find a hurt or abandoned or sick cub and bring it back, and Vex nurses it back to health (and Dan too), and suddenly they Have Another Bear. Oh Dear. Sometimes Vex and Trinket make a conscious effort to train the cubs to live in the wild and release them a ways away once they're old enough, but the three bears we see in C3 is Only The Beginning.

The first time Percy tried really growing a beard, Vesper made Unhappy Faces when he'd give her kisses and in a fit he shaved it all off. He needed some talking-tos about it. His baby girl was SO upset and it make HIM upset OKAY -

It's advised that guests do not wander the halls of Castle Whitestone alone at night. They assume, naturally, that this is due to Ghosts or Restless Spirits - no the de Rolos are just. like that. Cass would rather everyone avoid the trauma of hearing them having a good time. Also the kids' darkvision means they have shining pupils if light hits them in the dark and someone fell down the stairs once so there's that too.

Percy fucking agonizes over blue now. Getting a gift to match Vex's feather takes up at least 3-12 hours of a given project. At this point he has custom paints mixed for it and will scour stalls and shops for gems of the right turquoise.

He also owns way more fur than he'd expect, because Vex is a ranger and can at least make a decent muffler or trim for mittens or ruff for his winter coat out of some of her more impressive catches. His favorite, though, is a tiny fur thing that's badly worn. Vex insists it's a bird. *it does not look like a bird,* it looks like a pointed rock with two bead eyes. It was the first thing she tried making him and it, well, it didn't come out as she'd expected. He still stims with it often, it practically lives in his pocket - like she was in Pandemonium, when VM were transformed into birds. She says she hates it, but his earnest adoration for this little silly thing she made really makes Vex so damn happy.

OH MY GOD SHE WOULD LOVE HIS EARS,,, HIS LIL ROUNDED EARS,,, SO SOFT N ROUND,,,,,,,, OMG

YOUR MUSIC TASTES FOR THEM ARE SO IN LINE WITH WHAT'S IN MY HEAD NGKJRNGK. vex imo has the most chaotic playlists because there's just one for all of her music. it switches from lizzo to mumford & sons without rhyme nor reason. and they WOULD be taylor swift stans with pike i LOVE THIS. AND GOD,, THE MENTAL IMAGE OF HER AND PERCY DRAMATICALLY LIP-SYNCING LIKE HUGE NERDS..... MY CROPS ARE WATERED. MY SKIN IS CLEAR

THIS IS ONLY THE BEGINNING NGKJRNKJGNR i simply think vex deserves an entire legion of bears who love her, and many of them on the castle grounds. only the best for the grand mistress of bears. (trinket mimicking vex's adopting behavior is SO CUTE I'M GONNA CRY)

percy upsets his baby One Time and suddenly he must change everything about himself. i love him so much i cannot stand it

NKGJNKJENG the de rolos fuck nasty and it is a burden upon those who think themselves to be fearless... my heart goes out to the unlucky few who dare. ALSO THE FUCKING. QUARTER ELVES. JUST LIKE A BUNCH OF CATS IN THE KITCHEN AT 2AM WHEN YOU WANT A SNACK. IS PERFECTION.

GERKGNERJN percy will do anything to maintain his wife's aesthetic

VEX CRAFTING HIM THINGS...... PERCY KEEPING HER FIRST LIL BAUBLE BECAUSE HE LOVES HER................ STIMMING WITH IT CAUSE IT'S SOFT................................ picturing vex finding out and endeavoring to acquire so many soft things, making him a bunch more knick-knacks once she's better at it, wearing soft clothes, just, oh my GOD she loves him SO MUCH

thank you again for this absolute unfathomable joy, i squeaked out loud at least 3 times, i am full of serotonin once more

#THE SCREAM I SCRUMPT AS BURR WOULD SAY #oh my god you make me want to write so many little things for them #i'm crying. i LOVE THEM VERY MUCH #vex’ahlia #percival de rolo #perc’ahlia #fave #critical role #vox machina #blorbologist

[furiousofpanda]

Idk man, if I were to make a creepypasta au, there would be 3 "slendermans" as in like, treating it as a species rather than a person

We have the Operator, the actual concept of slenderman slenderman, and the "adoptive parent" slenderman

The operator and the actual slenderman can't talk while the adoptive parent can, but they can all like,, send vibes across telepathically/control but just each one has their own way of doing it and own personality

The adoptive parents is essentially the Fandom take on slenderman/Fannon if that wasn't clear

This also means in my headcannon all canonical parts of Marble Hornets can happen and yet be completely unrelated to the "adoptive slender" (idk, I don't like the idea of masky and hoodie as alters being put into the houses and given wrong personalities and then not even considering that tim and brian are there too)

All slenders are territorial and would 100% get into a fight if they crossed paths

I may expand on this idea if people want

Edit: Nobody asked and so now out of spite I'm writing more

Imma just write profile like things for em:

I'm using the term proxy very loose for the Operator as he basically only rarely ever takes control, but rather teleports them around and make alter egos via the sickness. I know they aren't proxies directly in the way of the original slender and I don't perceive them as it either but the term works for short explanation so- also I'm calling em "slenderfolk" since they are all essentially just based off of slenderman, so the same species. All electronics when up close start to not work. Audio players, lights,video and audio recordings all cut out when slenderfolk are near, all electronics really. It can occur when they are in frame, deliberate interference, and based on distance to the tall folk themselves.

Operator, Slenderfolk, infectious, Verbally Mute, communicates though mental/physical images, vague telepathy (not direct words but convaying meaning wordlessly) and through proxies.

Operator is distant most times and focuses more on control, disregarding anything a human needs to survive as long as the proxies are working in his favor. Tends to mentally ruin and destroy his puppets, or otherwise spitting their personalities via the Operators sickness. Exists primary in and around Rosswood Park or near related proxies. Killing tactics are different than the actual slenderman, will make infected subjects that he can control do his dirty work for him. The operator is hard to read and almost has very little rhyme or reason for things that we simply cant see at face value but it works in his favor it the end. Operator doesn't kill his subjects but rather let's the suffer until the sickness kills them. Operator vaguely only starts hunting thoes who learn about it though is very distant, and stops for a bit once they become under his control.

Slenderman, Slenderfolk, Mute, Communicates only through proxies, can cause hallucinations and visual blurring, actively hunts anyone who tries to learn about him. Slenderman is nor bound to some set forest and is seen all over the world in densly wooded and abandoned areas. He will at first only stalk in plain sight/sender fashion unless physically engaging with (aka victim attacks slenderman, he impales them on a tree and guts them) otherwise if not engaged with physically. Slender will slowly stalk until the subject is mentally unwell, and then taking them. This, unlike the operator, has whisp like tendrils that come from behind his back and into the air that can reach impossible lenghts but are slow. The tendrils aren't solid like Slendy's.

Wrote something and it got deleted and it's too late to fix it so here's fandom slender snippet that remains

Slendy (Fandom Slenderman), slenderfolk, can talk but prefers to just communicate telepathically, can control proxies but rather doesnt and is kinda lazy about it. Houses killers that in return that they become a proxyof a sort. Won't admit it but Slendy Is the only one of the three that care about their proxies wellbeing and will make sure his proxies can still function, though uses mental manipulation and guilt/trama tripping to keep everything in line.

Slendy is sorta bound to a forest? It's his stomping ground but he can leave (different from rosswood but there isn't a written fandom agreed name for it) which is why he needs proxies but can also appear near thoes under his control If needed or be outside of the forest on rare occasions.

#slenderman #slenderverse #creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta headcanon #headcanon

[theresa-of-liechtenstein]

last rehearsalpost of the night i swear this gets its own separate post for Reasons . it needs to get out of my head

i ended up staying late afterward to clarify some bowings with the ethnomusicology grad student and ate honorsprofessor was impatiently waiting for me to finish. and as the grad student was copying bowings over, ate honorsprofessor asked me 'any grad school news?' with tita conductor standing feet away and not doing a very good job at not eavesdropping.

i know i made the resolution to be more normal about tita conductor but... the thing is, tita conductor's reactions around my impending graduation have always seemed. disproportionately strong to the role i have played in orchestra. or at least, it was last year when i had effectively only attended half the year's rehearsals due to some time conflict or other every term. she introduced me to her husband as a first year, i gently corrected her that i was a third year, and i swear the woman turned back to me with the most horrified look on her face. i won't forget that, nor the way she said 'but why didn't you come to us sooner?' with her voice all small and her face kind of pained, or the way she looked a little disquieted when i said it was because i hadn't been confident enough in my playing as a second year to go for an audition. i mean it wasn't like she hadn't had a glass of wine in her hand a few minutes earlier, and she had spent time during the concert publicly acknowledging the graduation or departure of all her string principals, a wind principal, and brass principals, so obviously that must have been heavy on her mind. but then at my re-audition she said 'you're a second year?' to which i had to correct her, again, and let her know i was a whole two years older than her mental image of me.

and when i talked to tita conductor one-on-one for the first time last year, really talked for the first time, nothing to do with printouts or administration or schedule conflicts—when i explained what had happened and told her i felt safe—i also did ask if i could continue in the orchestra if i chose to go to grad school at my home institution. i made it clear that i wasn't going to make any promises i couldn't keep, but she also made it clear that i would have a place in orchestra should i make that choice. 'i will fight for my students,' she said, and i believed her, and believe her still.

but i didn't make any promises to her that night, and she knows i will be graduating in june. that impending fact is something that she is sensitive about, and...based on our recent interactions outside her always smiling at me for no discernible reason during rehearsals and bestowing praise on the section, i can't help but feel that she's preparing herself for that. what she doesn't know, but what ate honorsprofessor does, is that i interviewed with a potential supervisor here who is supportive of me continuing in orchestra, and that i have a good chance with her, and that she'll likely recommend me for admission, and that i'm only waiting for the graduate division's decision.

i knew i had to be careful, so all i said was 'i haven't got any word yet.'

i think more than anything in this process, i look forward in the hope of telling tita conductor i'm staying. i don't care if i keep my position—i was always happy playing in the section, it didn't matter where i was sitting if only i was just able to play with everyone, and i think it’s right for the music majors to take the lead esp since they will be fourth years—but honestly i just want to see the look on her face when i tell her. like here's how i can make up for not being brave enough two years ago. maybe that can ease the utang na loob i owe you for giving me back the joy of being in an ensemble.

#em jumped up busker

[mosraev]

Lyrics through the decade 3/10

I've decided to collect all the songs I've made through the last decade and share my favourite snippets with you guys. The pictures for the backgrounds will (as much as possible) be pictures I've taken the same year as the lyrics were written. The full lyrics may or may not be made official someday.

Part 3; 2015

Being the first full year I had been writing songs and the year I took one semester on what I now call my summer camp, this was a very productive year for songs. Well, it was a productive year for lyrics, I actually did only finish half of the songs I started. My lyrics became a little less angry overall and focused more on storytelling.

More info under the line

Stay creative, my fellow foxes 🦊💚

Song 1 (pic1); Pyriphlegeton.

A song named after the greek myth of the flood of fire in the underworld keeping the tormented standing so they can endure more pain, this is a song where I've taken the perspective of a woman with an undefined mental illness. Some lines however can be read through a trans lens. Fun fact: I rapped the verses on this. No I am not kidding (also I am not a rapper)

Featured lyrics:

Heartache! Her ribcage's a cage of a prison.

She's searching so hard for the brick life's missing.

Honorable mention;

She blames herself for going insane.

When all that she need is a shoulder to cry on,

Instead she chokes on water from Pyriphlegethon.

Song 2 (pic2); Icebirds

This is a fun one in that I made it as a sort of theme song for a novel length story I was writing about a boy that lived in a world where people got their mind wiped in they stepped out of line (or what he later learn is actually a brainfog repressing your memories and identity). So while the lyrics could be taken as a queer metaphor in context it is more litteral. I didn't finish either the story or the song however.

Featured lyric:

Out of the fog, clear reality to face.

How much of myself have ignorance erased?

Song 3 (pic3); Tidal Wave/Party Wave

One of the few times that I tried to write a party song. This was strange since I wrote as a typical Dane that drinks and loves parties (which I don't) but I do love this line a lot

Featured lyric:

The floor's alive with every beat.

We're the beating heart's arteries.

Song 4 (pic4); the Rabbit and the Turtle

One of the few songs with no real perspective character, instead it is about the passing of time and the ambivalent feeling I have about time in general.

Featured lyric:

today's struggles are in tomorrow's past.

Song 5 (pic5); Shout Out

A song I wrote as a tribute to the friends I've gotten in the three years of highschool (although some of the experiences mentioned go back to middleschool). One of the earlier examples of me using my own experiences in a song.

Featured lyric:

Where everyday it's a chapter, at dawn begins a new [chapter].

Song 6 (pic6); Fair Little Muse

In this song I take the perspective of a lover feeling something is wrong with their partner but not knowing what or how to communicate their worry. It is very flowery/artsy which is fitting since the muse part is inspired by the muses of greek mythology.

Featured lyric:

((Extended)) Your thoughts are roses, wild in bloom.

Are they midnight black or are they twilight blue?

While roses they wither, evergreen remains.

And snowdrops bear promises of better days.

Song 7 (pic7); Mirror on the Wall v. 2

This is a special case since it is a song that actually have two versions; one was very personal and read like a diary (version 1) and then there's one taking the perspective of a girl and a boy both having body image issues thereby depersonalising the story (version 2). And yet this line is so raw and trans coded that I cannot help but love it. I never finished this song.

Featured lyric:

Mirror on the wall, hear it smash against the floor.

I feel so wasted [and] lost in my own skin.

((Extended)) [in] this body I'm living in.

Song 8 (pic8); Mixtape

I had an idea of writing a song about two people sharing memories through their dedication to music (possibly because I was at a music camp around this time). I never finished the song but I like this first part.

Featured lyric:

I’ve made you a mixtape to soundtrack your wasted youth.

All your favorite songs are on it 'cause they’re mine too.

#lyrics #2015 #pyriplhegeton #icebirds #tidal wave party wave #shout out #the rabbit and the turtle #fair little muse #mirror on the wall #mirror on the wall2 #mixtape #mosraev #mosræv

[portpebble]

i really dont think the dark worlds are escapism for susie - or at least if they are, it would contradict how susie acts in them. disregarding that theyre definitely not an escapist fantasy (berdly is ignored at every turn and doesnt have his smart-boy theme park, noelle is forced to face memories of dess that the world ignores in favor of pretending she never existed, literally everything w kris and spamton neo) susie actively goes AGAINST the hierarchy of the dark world system. she wants to be friends with the darkners and repeatedly points out how weird it is that theyre supposed to serve lightners, even mentioning spamton when ralsei tries to ignore it. and why would a person like SUSIE have a fantasy of an entire world of people totally subservient to her?

You're correct in the assertion that Dark Worlds are not a one-to-one escapist fantasy, yes! But that doesn't mean it cannot serve as escapism for the Lightner characters who visit it. There is a reason that every single Lightner who has visited a Dark World so far likes it there and/or wants to go back.

For Berdly, sure he does get ignored by Queen a lot of the time, and is unable to make his Gamer's Paradise. HOWEVER, he learns how to better connect to his peers, gets to come clean about how much keeping up the appearance of "smartness" weighs on him, and it's clear he's have a lot of fun being a cool knight in glow-in-the-dark-armor. He agrees with Noelle and Susie's initial plan to form another Dark Fountain.

[Image ID: Berdly right before attempting to create a Dark Fountain, saying "So is there any reason not to...?" End ID.]

For Noelle, yes, being in the Dark World brings up memories of Dess. But these memories aren't a bad thing, she's not disturbed by them. In fact, she's excited to be having an adventure, she's excited to be discovering new things about this new world! Her recalling how she and Dess and Asriel and Kris used to have adventures together too is more reminiscent and nostalgic, appreciative of getting the opportunity to have adventures like that again, and not indicative of someone who is being triggered by the situation at hand.

[Image IDs: The first five are from when Noelle and Kris walk through the December puzzle. Noelle says, "...when I said this city makes my head spin... I didn't mean in a bad way... you know? I always wanted to go someplace new, you know? ...And Dess... always told me she'd take me." and "...don't you miss exploring, Kris?". The last is of Noelle smiling, talking about the Dark World, "I've never... had an adventure like this before." End ID.]

For Kris... Kris is a more complicated case, because we oftentimes cannot see how they feel about a given situation. We do, though, have their two options in response to Susie saying the Darkners should come to their world, with "Yeah let's do it" being more enthusiastic and proactive then "Seems a little far-fetched". Also, I think it's safe to say they want to go back, for one reason or another. Because fucking uhhhh:

[Image ID: Kris opening a Dark Fountain at the end of Chapter 2. End ID.]

For Susie, in my original post I already gave examples of how much she favors the Dark World, how important it is to her, and how much she likes it there. Here, I'd like to define the term of escapism itself. Wikipedia describes escapism as a "mental diversion from unpleasant or boring aspects of daily life, typically through activities involving imagination or entertainment". It is important to note that in order for escapism to function, the "world" where you're escaping to does NOT need to be utopian. As someone who struggles with escapism myself, a lot of the media I use as an escape does have its own conflicts, flaws, angst, etc. The Dark World has it's issues too, but that doesn't mean it cannot provide an escape for those visiting it. There can be certain aspects of the Dark World that make Susie or the other characters uncomfortable, but as long as it is a better alternative to the "real" world, it can still be an escape.

So, here and within my previous post, I've begun to make a case that Susie displays signs of escapism. However, that still begs the question: Why is Susie susceptible to escapism, particularly within the Dark World?

From certain context clues, we can infer that Susie's home life is... Not great. In the start of chapter 1, she's afraid she's going to get expelled from the school, for something as menial as eating chalk. She says a bush is "basically [her] house now" because she took a nap in it. She drinks milk from an alleyway, completely unaware of where it's coming from. She doesn't call her parents when Toriel asks her to, and she can have impromptu sleepovers whenever she wants without telling them, meaning they're fine with her disappearing for an entire night (if they're still in contact with her at all). She sees herself as (metaphorically and physically) a monster, a bad person, someone who can never be a hero, someone who no one would want to be friends with:

[Image IDs: Susie right before her fight with Lancer in Chapter 1, saying, "I get it, y'know. Why would anyone..." She smiles bitterly. "...really wanna be my friend anyway?" End ID.]

I think it's safe to say that Susie, when we meet her at the beginning of Chapter 1, is unhappy. She's ostracized from her peers. She has little to no support network. She thinks all of her classmates are waiting for and want her to be expelled entirely. Given the position she is in, it's clear why she would want to find an escape. Thanks to the Dark World, she's able to connect to Kris and Noelle and even Berdly, she meets Ralsei and Lancer, she "becomes" a hero. After spending probably most of her life believing she's a bad person, in the Dark World she gets to be one of the GOOD guys (something she rejects at first because it doesn't align with her view of herself, but she's clearly much more comfortable with the title of hero as the story progresses). She gets to feel good about herself, she gets to feel good about what she's doing! She gets to save the world, she gets to use a cool axe, she gets to start learning healing magic, she gets to have fun with her new friends...

[Images IDs: Susie describing the Dark World, "And no matter what happens... No one tells us what to do!" End ID.]

You are right, anon, that a world of people subservient to her would not appeal to Susie. But the wish-fulfillment like nature of the Dark Worlds, the way they give her a chance to a hero, to be liked and appreciated for who she is, and even the way that the Darkners can't tell the Lightners "what to do", DOES. Susie wants to be free from authority, and the Dark Worlds present her with a situation where she can actively go against it, dismantle the system, and come out victorious and unscathed- something she cannot do in her own life. Susie does bring up how strange the whole "Darkner's purpose" thing is. She's clearly uncomfortable with most kinds of authority, and that means she's uncomfortable being the authority too. She does benefit from the way Lightners can pretty much do whatever the hell they want, but above that, she wants her and her Darkner friends to be equals. However...

I think that its somewhat important to note that, while its very prevalent in Chapter 1's narrative, the idea of it being Weird that Lightners are "meant" to serve Darkners takes a back seat in Chapter 2. We still see bits of it, like how we see Queen wanting to make the Lightners happy, but it's rarely ever called to attention in the way it was in Chapter 1: Susie telling Ralsei to quit it with the purpose talk, the Spade King's motivations against the Lightners, and Seam talking about the relationship that Lightners and Darkners used to have. We don't get to see a lot of that discussed in Chapter 2. Ralsei has taken Susie's advice. He's acting less compliant, learning sarcasm from her, and considering who he is outside of his destiny. Outwardly, he's displaying less of that "Darkner's purpose" mentality. Susie seems to be happy with this, and she doesn't bring it up in Chapter 2, because to her, the problem has been "solved", at least somewhat. In fact, almost none of the characters mention this Weirdness in Chapter 2. It is an inconvenient truth that can be pushed to the side.

Where we DO see this idea of the power imbalance between Lightners and Darkners utilized the MOST is within Spamton's subplot. But, for a large portion of that plot, Susie isn't present. Kris goes into the Spamton shop and (initially) the basement alone. Susie knows something is off, she realizes how uncomfortable Kris is, but she doesn't see a lot of what Spamton says about "heaven" and about being free. This is purposeful. Susie so far has been the one who's most directly against the power imbalance. Not allowing her to see more examples of it with Spamton's plot allows her to continue not thinking about it. It allows the imbalance to continue being swept under the rug. In fact, when talking about what was weird about the Spamton battle, Susie doesn't even mention "heaven":

[Image ID: Susie after the Spamton battle, listing it's oddities, "Puppets... strings... hands..." End ID.]

The power imbalance of Darkners and Lightners is weird to her, but it's not a deal-breaker. She still enjoys being in the Dark World. She still has fun there. She still stays up all night thinking about it. And, at the end of the day...

[Image ID: Susie smiling and saying to Kris at the end of Chapter 1, "Let's go back there tomorrow, alright?" End ID.]

She wants to go back.

In conclusion, I really do think the Dark Worlds provide escapism for Susie. They are not a perfect fantasy, but they don't have to be. As long as they are a better alternative to her life in Hometown, as long as they are giving her an adventure, giving her the friends she thought she could never have, giving her a chance to "be a good person", and a break from the expectations and pressures of her life...

[Image ID: Susie talking while Kris and her stand in front of the Dark Fountain, "But... is that really a bad thing...? Since they started showing up, Everything's gotten a lot more interesting, hasn't it...? ..." End ID.]

"Well, we don't have to think about that now..."

It's an escape.

#sorry for writing a fuckin essay and a half anon I just feel strongly about this one. #I dunno if this is well organized or anything. probably not. but it was fun. #I wanna do more analysis like this in the future mayhaps... I have Thoughts and Feelings and they Roll Around in my Brain. #susie #susie deltarune #deltarune #deltarune meta #asks for em #safeutdr #also none of this takes into account the other route because Its A Whole Different Route. its gonna have different overarching themes #em ids

[letsplayballet]

alright, losing my mind about october 3rd in my persona 5 royal replay in 3, 2, 1, go!

first off, this whole thing SUCKS. hearing the vice principle talk about a dead girl and her grieving sister as "wastes of effort" is so infuriating i don't have the words. why is this school the absolute worst (but also why isn't is further out of the realm of possibility)

but onto the important bits that i missed my first run through:

starting off strong is this tasty piece of dialogue, bc that's the problem, isn't it? sumire *isn't* kasumi, even when she thinks she is. she's still anxious and unsure, still unsatisfied with herself to the point of having significant mental health issues (though sumire-as-kasumi is headed towards perfection-seeking overworked burnout, instead of her more typical major depression).

side note: the fact that maruki insists she's better off like this really shows that he thinks about pain and trauma very... shallowly? i guess would be the word? it's very surface level, instant gratification stuff. is she less actively suicidal? yeah! is she actually better? of course not! bc she is *still sumire* and still has those thought patterns and instincts that lead her to that mindset, but instead of having the tools to deal with those thoughts in a healthy manner she has an "i'm happy and perfect :)" mask that she feels she has to live up to. repression isn't healing. maruki do your fucking job challenge.

anyway.

so we get the keywords from her pep talk and a random couple, get sucked into the palace, and hunt her down to find her confronting what you THINK is her dead sister your first run, but is pretty obviously sumire herself on repeat plays:

this dialogue didn't make a lot of sense to me my first run, to the point i forgot it was there, but DAMN does it hit this time. her guilt over her sister's death, her complete inability to face it, is VERY apparent. sumire gets so upset over seeing maruki's cognitive version of her, and you really get the impression that she's not even sure *why* she's so upset. sure, it's her dead "sister", but we've already seen her brush that off pretty easily the first time we went to odiba. and given the headache she gets right after, it's pretty clear the real sumire is close to breaking out of the kasumi mask.

and when the shadow attacks the cognitive sumire, she goes down easy.

which is indicative of something maruki says in the third semester: that he thinks sumire is TOO WEAK to handle her own trauma. that the only way she can live at all, much less happily, is by being someone else entirely. that sumire *doesn't even deserve a chance to try*.

... this is NOT the post for my rant about maruki's god complex and how it undermines any "help" he's supposedly trying to offer, but these images are here just so you know it exists

luckily, sumire is able to fight back:

and i do think this is elements of the actual sumire coming through! i'm not sure if sumire's idealized version of kasumi would be fazed enough by criticism to get angry about it. and we know their promise to each other about gymnastics is important to sumire, especially as the only sister left to fill it. if i'm remembering her third semester confidant stuff right, it seems to be one of the few totally positive memories she has of her sister, even with how much pain constantly being compared to kasumi in gymnastics has brought her.

and these pieces of sumire breaking through the brainwashing are probably why she's able to awaken to a persona, even though she literally has no idea who she actually is (and thus shouldn't be able to confront her true self and get one). ESPECIALLY since her persona references the fact that she's not herself!

i did not manage to grab "if those really are the shoes you've chosen..." but that also applies, as does the fact that her hair comes down for her transformation (the way sumire wears it, instead of kasumi's ponytail) but is put back up by the end.

this got, uh. long. but the point is i love her dearly and maruki can go fuck himself.

#quinn (re)plays p5r #this took longer than i expected it to whoops! #but here's my thoughts #it's a much better twist than i think i gave the game credit for initially? well foreshadowed and executed #this isn't even everything i wanted to say i just want to be done with the post #sumire yoshizawa #p5r #p5