#Prospec

[pkansa]

Introducing: Seiko Prospex Marinemaster

Introducing: @SeikoWatches Prospex Marinemaster

[boanerges20]

Honda NSR250R.

[rhoanneairen]

PROSPECS - LEE SEUNG GI

[jadeleechsupportgroup]

Closet Prison

“And those pitiable robes return once more to their closet prison.”

You get trapped in Malleus’s closet. Well done.

malleus x reader

cw: none

also on ao3

You are starting to wonder how many different job titles you have collected so far in your short tenure at Night Raven College. Even if you gathered several of them under the ‘Janitor’ heading that Crowley had so proudly bestowed upon you on the first day, there were enough now to make for one hell of a résumé: Glasswork Repair Technician, Antique Plumbing Specialist, Magestone Recovery Agent, not to mention every version of the word ‘therapist’ that existed. Now, you suppose, you could add Laundry Cleanliness Coordinator to the list.

“I demand to speak with someone at once! This is an outrage!”

Ah, yes. How could you forget Customer Service Punching Bag.

You peek out to the front reception area, hiding between hanging garment bags and swiping your over-steamed hair out of your face. You could have easily - and correctly - guessed at the owner of the voice for several reasons, primary among them 1. This happens every week and 2. Anyone would know that voice because no one ever gets to stop hearing it.

No one is coming to his rescue, even though you know you are not the only one on a shift today. But you are the closest one to the door. You balance your fingertips on the white paneling and close your eyes, steeling yourself for battle, your best and brightest fake smile serving as both armor and weapon. You tuck your lint brush into your back pocket in case you need something portable that won’t leave a mark.

“Why, Sebek, fancy seeing you here,” you say in a voice not your own. Your Customer Service Voice is a different person. You don’t know her. “You’re looking very well.”

“No, I am not!” he shouts, rattling the change in the tip jar on the counter behind you. Before you can have a chance to react, he shoves a garment bag with a paper receipt into your face. “You have made a grave error, and you must pay for it immediately!”

Your smile wanes, but you stay strong. “Me? In particular? Are you sure?”

“Who else would have committed such an unforgivable act, human?!”

You fold your arms patiently. “Perhaps you could enlighten me as to the error of my ways?”

Sebek flings down the garment bag in disgust. You catch it, somewhat, but its heft and size make for an awkward movement, something Sebek no doubt enjoys. “Since humans are of such feeble mind, I shall, as they say, ‘spell it out for you.’”

His chest heaves, and you brace yourself for the volume that’s about to assault you and anyone else within a three-mile radius.

“You have misplaced the ceremonial robes belonging to the great Malleus Draconia!”

The urge to beat him over the head with the tip jar strikes you abruptly, but you file it away. Inside, a very small part of you does panic - did Malleus bring some valuable, irreplaceable robes from home? But then you realize what Sebek means, and all you can do is wonder whether you could make assault with a deadly weapon look like self defense.

You put on your Voice again. “Like, his orientation robes? I didn’t even see those come in.”

“Of course not! And now they have landed in someone else’s filthy, unworthy hands!”

“Okay, okay. Sheesh.” You hang up the offending garment bag and check the receipt. Sure as shit, it has Malleus’s name on it. You refrain from suggesting this is all part of an elaborate prank. It would be funny, but you’ve heard enough of Sebek’s voice for one day. “I’ll get it sorted out.”

“See that you do! And that you prepare an apology for Lord Malleus at once!”

You force yourself to take a deep breath and hold it until he storms out the door. The tip jar lives to see another day.

You go over the books and cross-check a few numbers. A simple mistake - someone accidentally skipped a line on one side of the page, so now the entries are misaligned. You check the tag on the inside of the robes and find Leona’s name embroidered on the lining.

The prospect of hiking across campus with a heavy garment bag longer than you are tall is hardly enticing, but you don’t have much of a choice. The last thing you want is for Sebek to come back in ten minutes demanding to know why you haven’t fixed everything by now. You pull on your coat and head outside.

It’s cool and cloudy out - probably normal September weather for some, but you hail from somewhere hotter this time of year, and you’re already cold. The chill hastens your steps as you make your way across the stones and grassy pathways to the Hall of Mirrors. You wish you had a giant mug of hot cocoa or spiced apple cider. One of each, you decide as you step through the Savanaclaw mirror.

The jump still leaves you queasy, but the warm humidity of the pocket dimension embraces you and eliminates the cold clinging to your shoulders. You wander past groups of students, trying to catch glimpses of their faces while avoiding eye contact. You don’t recognize anyone, so with a sigh, you plod toward the main building.

A tall beast-eared student leans against the wall of the entryway like some kind of bouncer. You’re hoping he’ll ignore you, but he stands to his full height and blocks your path.

“You lost?” he asks gruffly.

“I need to give these to Leona,” you say evenly, losing some of the bravado that empowered you against Sebek earlier. “His robes got mixed up with someone else’s.”

He leans in and sniffs the air around you, prompting you to move away, bringing a satisfied glint to his eye. His ears twitch, but he finally backs off and resumes his post. “Go on.”

You find yourself breathing a little more deeply in a vain attempt to slow your heart rate. It would not do to pass out from a panic attack in the midst of all these predators. It occurs to you that you don’t know where to find Leona, but you really don’t want to ask any of these people for directions, so you start wandering. You’re up the stairs and halfway down the hall when a door opens and a familiar head of sandy brown hair ducks out of it.

“…last time I help that guy with anything,” he grumbles to himself. He glances up at you, and his dour expression lifts a bit. “Hey, what’re you doing here?”

“Hi, Ruggie,” you say, breathless from the stairs. “I have Leona’s robes.” You have to pause for one huge breath. “They got switched around at the cleaners.”

Ruggie cackles. “That explains a lot. I’ll swap ’em out - he just went back to sleep.”

“Thanks.” You hand him the garment bag. He disappears back into the room, then returns with a different bag. Unfortunately, it’s no less long or heavy. You decide to fold it in half, hoping it will be a little easier to carry. “Best of luck with…whatever he’s having you do this time.” You gesture vaguely at the closed door.

“Haha, yeah.”

You’re almost too warm from all this manual labor by the time you re-enter the Hall of Mirrors, but the shock of cold that smacks you full force on the other side of the Diasomnia mirror leaves you instantly shivering. Is it always this cold in here? How does anyone stand it? The fog curling around the clusters of thorns at your feet does not help. Unlike at Savanaclaw, you don’t see any students milling about here. Just a long, lonely stone walkway winding up through the mist to the castle.

You hope just a little that the doors will be locked and you’ll have to leave, but no luck. The massive wooden doors are propped open, though nobody is standing guard here. They probably assume (correctly) that no one would waltz in here without a reason.

You try not to make it too obvious that you’ve never been in Diasomnia before, but there are plenty of things to gawk at in the lavishly-appointed lounge. Fine leather seating, antique wood tables that look like the much nicer versions of the ones in your dorm, expensive imported rugs - yet even with all that, and the flickering green candle flames dotting the room, the whole space feels…vacant. Lacking. And cold. So cold you can smell the stone.

“H- hello?” you call out, losing what little courage you had remaining. You consider leaving the garment bag on the nearest chair and escaping to safety, but a set of footsteps catches your attention.

“Why, good afternoon,” says a sunny, cordial voice completely at odds with your surroundings. He smiles and tilts his head to one side. “What can I do for you?”

“Lilia, right?” you guess, and to your relief he nods in response. “I’m just returning these.” You set the garment bag down, suddenly aware of how badly you were scrunching it. “Malleus’s robes,” you add.

Lilia blinks his bright cerise eyes. “Oh, that must be where Sebek went in such a hurry.” He allows himself a light chuckle. “You didn’t need to come all this way just to bring these back.”

“Yeah? Sebek was ready to burn me at the stake for it, so…” You frown over the state of the garment bag. You didn’t mean to crumple it so badly, but it just got so freaking heavy after more than a few minutes. “Would it be alright if I brush these out before I go? They probably got wrinkled, and I’ve reached my quota of stake burnings for the month.”

“Of course!” Lilia seems a little overjoyed at the idea of a visitor, but at least he is polite and appreciative of your efforts. “Right this way.”

You have to endure another set of stairs, passing by an enormous bat-winged chair at the top that would be practically comical in any other situation. Lilia trots along merrily ahead of you, humming to himself as you study the iron latticework of the huge windows lining the hall. Outside, you catch glimpses here and there of the gargoyles that stand guard along the parapets. The green firelight casts shadows through the grating that appear to bring their carved stone faces to life.

“Do you like architecture?” Lilia asks, bringing you out of your musings.

“Yeah, I guess so. This is all…very different from what I’m used to.”

“Well, you are certainly free to stop by at any time. We love having visitors.”

Lilia stops at a set of double doors and tugs them open before leading you inside. He looks about to say something when his watch chirps at him. He checks it curiously. “Hm? Oh, of course. We have a club meeting - I nearly forgot.” He offers you another kind smile. “I’m afraid I must take my leave, but I trust you can find your way out?”

“Pretty sure.” You balance the garment bag on one arm while you try to open the closet doors with your other hand. There’s an absolutely frigid draft in here, strong enough to disturb the curtains, and you wonder if Malleus is one of those monstrous types that sleeps with the windows open. “Thanks.”

“Oh, and be careful with that door. It can stick a little.”

With that, he bounces out of the room.

You hook the hanger over the closet railing and unzip the bag. The damage is minimal, actually; the robes’ heavy brocade fabric is pretty resilient as long as it’s dry. But you spot a few dozen hairs that must belong to Leona. You’re glad you brought the lint brush now.

The cold draft of air spills over your shoulders and freezes your hands. This is getting downright ridiculous. You step back into the main room and go to close the windows, but they’re already closed. The breeze is just there. You grumble to yourself about having two hot cocoas and two apple ciders upon your return home and go back to your work.

Malleus’s entire room looks like it hardly receives any use at all. Whether due to his position as housewarden or his family name, his closet is larger than what you would expect for a dorm room, large enough to stand in comfortably. (Although, for him, you think, perhaps not, as his horns might brush the ceiling. That would be funny.).

You can hardly concentrate because it’s so damn cold. You finally get fed up with it and pull the closet door most of the way shut behind you, leaving just enough of a gap for light to enter. The relief is instantaneous.

You carefully brush and straighten the robes, ensuring all the stray hairs and lint fluffs are removed, trimming a stray thread here and there. You run your fingers over the specially tailored openings in the hood. They’ve been hand-sewn by an expert, even adorned with their own decorative embroidery. You appreciate the craftsmanship, knowing that few people would notice it, let alone care.

As if enraged by your attempts to thwart its presence, the draft of air returns with a vengeance and slams the closet door. You jump - at the noise, the sudden inky darkness, the freshly chilled breeze - and, feeling indignant about it, you push on the door.

Only, it doesn’t open.

You try again to no avail. Then you try pulling on the door, just in case, but it budges even less. You push against it with your shoulder, wondering if this is Sebek’s magical idea of a joke or a punishment, but you’re fairly certain he would rather die than leave you unattended in Malleus’s room. You listen carefully, but you hear no footsteps or voices. Lilia already said he was leaving.

Okay, calm down. Think. And keep throwing yourself into the door while you do it.

You can’t understand why it’s not working. Maybe there’s a magic seal on it. Or maybe you’re just weak. Weak and pathetic.

Frustration turns into a combination of anger and fear and sad. You hate that you’re not able to open the damn door. You hate that you’re getting so worked up over not being able to open the damn door. You hate that thinking about that isn’t enough to make you stop.

“Hello?” you try calling out, but there’s no response. You yell a few more times and knock on the wood for good measure. It changes nothing.

You slump down to the floor and try to breathe. It’s not the dark or the enclosed space that gets to you. Good thing, too, or orientation day would have been a lot more graphic for your audience. It’s just that the whole thing makes you feel…

…stupid.

Your eyes are adjusting to the dark, for all the good it does you, which is hardly any. And the cold breeze has now permeated the supposedly impenetrable barrier, so you’re shivering now, too. You reach up and feel the hem of the robes that caused you all this trouble.

Well, it hardly matters now.

You tug them off of the hanger and snuggle into them. A gentle, woodsy perfume wafts up from the depths of the silk lining, subtle but strong in the enclosed space. You press the fabric to your face and draw in a deep breath. The smell soothes your nerves - fallen leaves, pine needles, fresh rain, even a touch of mycelium.

You don’t have forests around where you’re from. You’ve been to them a few times, sure, on camping trips and one brief foray into the world of hiking, but none of them smelled quite like this.

You lie on your side and stare up in the general direction of the ceiling. The breeze hits your face, so you pull the hood down to shield yourself. You would laugh at how ridiculous this is, but you’re too worn out to care. You roll onto your side and let your eyes loll shut.

“-classes today?”

You mentally tell the voices to go away. You haven’t slept this well in ages.

“They were adequate. I shall go to the library later to acquire some other materials.”

You don’t want to get up. Even though you’re not really that comfortable…

“Excellent idea, my liege! I shall be honored to acquire all the necessary books for you!”

Your eyes shoot open. You’re not dreaming anymore.

The past few minutes - hours? - come back to you, and you scramble to sit up, fumbling with the robes you were using as a blanket. You’re about to try the door again when the voices come back.

“Do not trouble yourself on my behalf, Sebek. I am quite capable.”

“It’s no trouble, my liege!”

You sink back against the wall and try to control your breathing. You don’t even want to imagine what Sebek will say if he finds you like this. Whatever it is, it will cause permanent hearing loss.

You sit in the dark and wait.

“Very well, Sebek.”

“Thank you, Lord Malleus!”

You grit your teeth in annoyance and wish Sebek would go buy a personality since he doesn’t have his own. No wonder Malleus looks to be in such a dour mood all the time. He must have eternal patience to tolerate someone like that. You wouldn’t last ten minutes-

Light suddenly bursts in front of your eyes and blinds you. You squint and hold up one hand to shield your face against the brightness.

Malleus blinks down at you.

You wonder, briefly, what this must look like to his eyes. You, disheveled, wrapped in his ceremonial robes, on the floor of his closet. You are positive that every blood cell in your body is rushing to your face.

You don’t even have time to stand up.

Malleus steps inside and closes the door, plunging you into darkness once again.

“Wh-?”

“Shhh,” he whispers with hardly a breath of air. A rustle of fabric, and his hand locates yours without any of the blind searching you would have done. He helps you stand.

“Behold, Silver! I have been chosen to accompany Lord Malleus to the library!”

“Sure thing, Seb…”

You giggle before you can stop yourself, then clamp your hand over your mouth in a vain attempt to shut yourself up.

“S-sorry,” you stammer hopelessly. “I didn’t, um. It’s a long story.”

Heat soars to your face when Malleus closes his hand over your mouth.

“Shhh,” he says again. You can’t see a thing in the dark, but you can tell he’s listening. He must still faintly hear their voices. You have no idea. You can’t hear a thing over the fervent hammering of your blood against your bones.

You have no idea how long you both stay like that, unmoving, but eventually he pulls his hand away from your mouth. You take several panicked breaths even though you were breathing just fine.

He seems alarmed. “Have I injured you?”

“No, no. Sorry.” You give up and laugh, first from nerves, then relief. “I’ve just been stuck in here for…hours, I guess.”

A bulb of green firelight winks into existence and hovers above your head, where it casts sharp shadows over Malleus’s features. You think of the gargoyle statues. But rather than fierce and intimidating, he looks amused.

“Lilia mentioned that you dropped by to return my robes,” he says. “Did he not warn you about the door?”

You scoff. “He said it sticks a little. Not that I would need inhuman strength to open it.”

Malleus reaches forward and gently tugs the hood off of your head. You forgot you’re still wearing the robes and start to pull them off, but he stops you.

A smile seems to flit across his face, though it may be a trick of the light.

“They suit you,” he says with a low, delicate laugh that turns your heart upside down in your chest. “At least someone has found a use for them.”

“It was cold in here,” you reply lamely.

He leans in close enough that the heat from his breath dances across your nose. “And now?”

You are certain he can hear your pulse louder than you can. One hand is still holding yours, but the other he lifts to the side of your face, brushing the backs of his fingers over your cheek and ear before sweeping through your hair. You close your eyes and sigh into his mouth.

He holds you as though you are fragile, yet something he does not intend to let go. He mirrors your movements, letting you choose how deep or delicate the kiss, sliding his hand down your back to hold you closer. Everything shows that he wants to be careful with you.

Fireworks burst in your heart and under his hands. You reach up to his face, run your fingers through the liquid silk of his hair. Forest and rain and fresh earth overwhelm you, and you realize faintly that it’s not a cologne or anything artificial. It’s the smell of his skin.

You barely nudge the side of his horn with a fingertip. He laughs against your lips and has to pull away.

“Sorry,” you say breathlessly. “I didn’t mean to…”

Malleus brushes your fingers against his mouth, then cradles your hand to the side of his face. “You simply caught me by surprise. That is all.”

“You first.”

You catch sight of his grin before he snuffs out the green flame. “I only wish this had happened sooner,” he says, wrapping both arms around you. You do, too, though what he next murmurs against your ear suggests that his reasons differ slightly from your own. “What a marvelous hiding place.”

[unalive-drawer]

Redid my Prospector ref, also shifted my slugcat anatomy along the way [might redo Andrew's with this new development?]

Still has his kid that I gave him for some reason, but we're not gonna talk about that much. Anyway, here's me talking about it [under cut as of writing because I don't know how long this will be]:

This is just gonna be some elaboration on the bullet points in the ref itself.

- Slugpups generally have a track record of being attracted to shiny things [this is often seen in game with how they act with pearls]. Rain world doesn't necessarily have any rocks or things of the like to interact with, but there are pearls, which I feel Prospector would collect and keep on him for their different colors and shiny properties without even thinking about what's possibly encoded on them.

One thing leads to another, and Dot gets caught with a pearl of Prospec's and ever since then has been around him, much to Prospector's displeasure at first.

- Because of the nature of the beast that is Rain World's environment, it's often uncertain how much food a slugcat will have access to at any given point. Because of this, Prospector will have Dot eat first whenever it's unclear if there's enough food for the both of them, and will begin eating at the same time as Dottie when there's an obvious abundance of food. Prospec will NEVER begin eating before Dot does.

- Dot is a young Scuppy. Bigger than most others of her age, but still quite small and young. He cannot eat lizard meat very well because of this, and so Prospector will have to gather blue fruit [which are actually bug pupas], batflies, noodlefly offspring, popcorn plants, etc. for Dot to eat. His own diet consists mostly of protein rich lizard meats, but Dottie's own diet is much more diverse and lighter than his.

Also, some smaller things about Prospector, some covered in ref, some not:

- His head is incredibly hard, and is much like a lizard's in regards to its invincibility against normal spears and explosive spears [electric spears will not pierce it, but the electric shock will stun him for roughly five seconds, maybe longer]

- He's ever so slightly magnetic. Some rubble will stick to his body very loosely, which can be good for temporarily holding onto things that can be thrown as distractions, and spears can be stuck to his body to be held as well, although it doesn't have much use beyond those.

- Scugs can swallow things to store them, typically one item. Due to his size, though, Prospector can swallow and store up to four items in his stomach.

- Prospector has the throwing strength of Gourmand [three times the average slugcat strength], and can body slam lizards too. Throwing things at full strength has a fifteen second cooldown, and during this time, items are thrown at average strength.

- Despite having a hard head that is impervious to spear injuries, he still has a hard helmet that helps to protect against them as well. It isn't shown, but typically he will have Dottie wearing it since their head isn't as naturally well protected as his own.

[robinismywife]

[ 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 ] (p.4)

PAIRING: Elvis Presley x fem!reader

SUMMARY: Y/n has an interesting conversation with Colonel Tom Parker, one that makes her question everything.

WARNINGS: Idek. If you find any plz inform me!!

A/N: Most of the information in this chapter might be inaccurate but it's all for the plot girlies ;) Thank you SO much for being patient with me. I know the plot is moving slowly but believe me we're getting somewhere! <3

PREVIOUS CHAPTER : PART 3

(the gif is not mine!)

"Are ya ready honey?"

"No, it's embarassing- Everybody's looking at me all weird and we're not even in there yet.." She pouted with a pleading look on her face, which had the exact opposite effect on Elvis than she had anticipated. Instead of feeling bad for her and comforting her, he burst out laughing and shaking his head in disbelief "What?! E, I think I'll just stay outside I-"

"Aw nah, I ain't hearin' none of that Y/n- I done told ya that I want ya there, honey" Now it's his turn to frown and plead, grabbing her hands soflty and rubbing circles on them.

"Really..?"

"Really. I really want ya in there with me. You're my person, you know? Everybody needs a support system, hmm? What'd you say?"

"Oh fine! But I'm only doing this for Frank Sinatra" Y/n wrapped her arm around his bicep as they stepped into the studio. The flashing lights were blinding them and she had to constantly look down so as not to step on something important and ruin the entire set up. Everybody was working hard to create a magical homecoming special just for Elvis, and Y/n couldn't believe that she was allowed to be there and watch as the two biggest stars on earth got to work together and bond over their love for music.

"Right, honey, right" Elvis chuckled at the girl, raising his eyebrows in disbelief. If it were any other guy acting cocky exactly the way he did she would've been pissed off, however, Elvis had such a charm about him that even his teasing felt like the biggest compliment.

"I ain't lying! I've been dying for an autograph- For my collection, you know?"

"You haven't asked for my autograph.." Elvis' lip jutted out slightly and dissapointment seemed to wash over his pretty features.

"Love, I get to hug you and kiss your pretty lil' pouty lips every day- Your autograph is the least of my concerns" Y/n laughed at how the boy's eyes lit up for a short moment "Now, get me to Mr. Sinatra now!"

"Yes, ma'am"

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Y/n could help but stare in shock as Elvis and Frank rehearsed their duet. This all felt like a dream, a fever dream. She was sure she would soon wake up in a pool of sweat and realize that everything was her sick brain's creation. Nevertheless, the way her heart pounded and the music echoed in her head, reassured her that this was her reality. Y/n was Elvis Presley's new girl.

The thought made her a bit dissapointed, how she would be depicted in the media soon. Just another one of his girls! How long will this one last?! It all felt a little overwhelming. She truly was head over heels in love with the charismatic man before her, but what if he didn't feel the same? What if he cheats on her? What if he's cheating on a girl right now? Could she be some mistress on the side and not know it? What poor girl is left thinking he'll come back?

All these questions flooded her one track mind, making her completely oblivious of her new company.

"So you met Frank, dear girl?"

Y/n turned her head only to find the Colonel sitting next to her, his walking stick rested between his legs.

"I did, Colonel, he's a very nice man" She responded carefully, finding herself stiffening up. It's like he always wanted to catch people slipping up and saying things that they would surely regret, things that he could use against them. Y/n never trusted this man and she never really would.

"Don't be fooled, my girl," The Colonel scoffed in disagreement "That man is anything but nice"

"What makes you say that..?" Y/n suddenly felt a little sad at the prospect of Frank Sinatra being a horrible human being. The small paper with his autograph in her pocket seemed to burn her through her clothes. Was just every celebrity that corrupted after all?

"He almost ruined that boy's career in seconds, little girl," He pointed at Elvis with his pretentious walking stick "Telling reporters how Mr. Presley's music- How rock and roll music fosters negative and destructive directions in young people" The man immitaded Franks voice, obviously making fun of the man.

"I- I- I don't know what to say, sir- I guess it was new back then?"

"Still, if you ask me, that man's a hypocrite- Always bashing my boy in the media but the moment he can make profit off of him, suddenly he forgets"

"Then why did you allow Elvis to do this? If that's how you feel"

"For the money of course, dear girl, and his reputation second. But money is always the priorety. How else do you think we haven't gone bankrupt? Mr. Presley surely has a spending problem, wouldn't you say?"

"What I'd say is that makes you a hypocrite, Colonel, just like the man you've been talking down on" Y/n couldn't stop the words from escaping her lips. She mentally noted to avoid Colonel Parker at all costs from now on. She didn't have the patience to deal with him again.

"A hypocrite? Nah, my girl, I'm merely doing what he's doing- He started it, not me" He smirked at her with a weird glint in his eye. Y/n couldn't understand his way of thinking. She was truly wondering how Elvis even communicated with this man, let alone plan projects and performances.

"Besides my boy will be in the movies now, eh? No need to worry about that damn rockabilly business no more"

"Movies? What mo-?"

"Colonel why are ya talking my girl's head off, huh?" Elvis stepped up to them, teasing an otherwise serious Colonel.

Did Elvis even know about these movies? Yes, Elvis had made movies in the past but it was never anything that could jeopardize his singing career. The Colonel's words kept ringing in her head. She had to find a way to talk to him about this, see how he feels about all these plans the Colonel had made for him. God knows what contracts that greedy fraud of a man had signed without Elvis' approval.

When they were finally in the backseat of their car, Y/n could actually think without the loud piano echoing around the set. What was she even getting herself into?

Y/n thought that she knew the music industry like the back of her hand, always surrounded by the most important singers and musicians of her time. However, that all came crushing down that day. In her eyes Elvis seemed like the most powerful man, someone who simply snaps his fingers and gets everything he wants without so much as lifting his pinkie. She decided that it was all a lie, a deception. How could she be so stupid as to think that musicians were anything more than a puppet on a string? A pretty face covering a corrupted industry full of money-hungry record companies and managers, just like Colonel Parker. And perhaps like RCA?

No. Now, daddy wouldn't work there if he knew all that, would he?

And now that she was thinking about it; How could she allow herself to be involved with such a man? A man like Elvis Presley. A man so blessed yet so trapped in his own good fortune and success. Maybe it would be best if this was all temporary, if she didn't end up marrying Elvis. Y/n didn't want to be trapped in that miserable life. Obviously, she would have anything she wanted supposing she stuck by Elvis' side. Clothes, diamonds and pearls, cooks and maids all working for her, all taking care of her. She wouldn't have to worry about a thing ever again.

Y/n had to slightly shake her head in order to push away that thought. No way was she going to abandon her career and independece for wealth and comfort. She had promised herself she would never do such a thing. Never. Y/n knew she was too smart and too hard-working to go to waste. No man could ever make her change her mind, even the charming Elvis Presley.

"What is that lil' brain of yours thinking over there, Littl'un?" Elvis' eyebrow lifted slightly in curiosity and amusement.

"Nothin' just how amazing today was, hun" Y/n tried to smile as nonchalatly as she could.

"Now, don't lie to me, baby- You were staring out that window like some damn lost puppy" Elvis got suddenly too serious for Y/n's liking, his protective side taking over. She couldn't deny the fact that his overprotectiveness was attractive, which made her mind lose focus from the current situation.

"It's fine, I tell ya, Elvis-"

"Aw hell!" He exclaimed as if he realized something important "The Colonel wasn't mean to ya or somethin', was he? He didn't bother you?"

"I- um-" Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Was this the right time to mention the movies the Colonel had told her all about? "No, hun, we just talked is all"

"Just talked? You sure about that?" Elvis narrowed his pretty blue eyes as if he was waiting for Y/n to crack and spill all of her darkest secrets.

"Yes, Elvis, just talked" Y/n laughed slightly to try to lighten the mood, which seemed to work since his gaze softened "Don't be so tore up about it- I'm a big girl I can fend for myself, hmm?"

"Yeah, you're right, I- I- I- I'm sorry Littl'un- I'll tell ya what, how about we don't go out tonight, we stay in, just you and me, eh?" He rubbed circles on her knee, finally making her headspace quieten down

"Sounds lovely, E" Y/n couldn't be more grateful that he didn't question her any further. This was a problem for another day, she wouldn't worry about it anymore.

Right?

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

[anamazingangie]

The Women Surrounding a Medieval Queen

This goes through the different types of maids that would serve a Queen, as well as the different duties and function of companions or lady's in waiting

This is something i've had in docs as a personal reference forever. I'm putting it here so I can link it on discord, but please note NONE of this information is my own, it has all been collected from a dozen+ wikipedia pages.

Overview of Maid Types:

Maids traditionally have a fixed position in the hierarchy of the large households, and although there is overlap between definitions (dependent on the size of the household) the positions themselves would typically be rigidly adhered to. The usual classifications of maid in a large household are:

Lady's maid: a senior servant who reported directly to the lady of the house, but ranked beneath the housekeeper, and accompanied her lady on travel. She took care of her mistress's clothes and hair, and sometimes served as confidante. .

House-maid or housemaid: a generic term for maids whose function was chiefly "above stairs", and were usually a little older, and better paid. Where a household included multiple housemaids, the roles were often subdivided as below. .

Head house-maid: the senior house maid, reporting to the housekeeper. (Also called "house parlour maid" in an establishment with only one or two upstairs maids). .

Parlour maid: they cleaned and tidied reception rooms and living areas by morning, and often served refreshments at afternoon tea, and sometimes also dinner. They tidied studies and libraries, and (with footmen) answered bells calling for service. .

Chamber maid: they cleaned and maintained the bedrooms, ensured fires were lit in fireplaces, and supplied hot water. .

Laundry maid: they maintained bedding and towels. They also washed, dried, and ironed clothes for the whole household, including the servants. .

Under house parlour maid: the general deputy to the house parlour maid in a small establishment which had only two upstairs maids. .

Nursery maid: also an "upstairs maid", but one who worked in the children's nursery, maintaining fires, cleanliness, and good order. Reported to the nanny rather than the housekeeper. The nursemaid would often stay with one family for years or as long as their services were needed.  .

Kitchen maid: a "below stairs" maid who reported to the cook, and assisted in running the kitchens.

Head kitchen maid: where multiple kitchen maids were employed, the "head kitchen maid" was effectively a deputy to the cook, engaged largely in the plainer and simpler cooking (sometimes cooking the servants' meals). .

Under kitchen maid: where multiple kitchen maids were employed, these were the staff who prepared vegetables, peeled potatoes, and assisted in presentation of finished cooking for serving. .

Scullery maid: the lowest grade of "below stairs" maid, reporting to the cook, the scullery maids were responsible for washing cutlery, crockery, and glassware, and scrubbing kitchen floors, as well as monitoring ovens while kitchen maids ate their own supper. .

Between maid, sometimes known as a "tweeny": roughly equivalent in status to scullery maids, and often paid less, between maids in a large household waited on the senior servants (butler, housekeeper, and cook) and were therefore answerable to all three department heads, often leading to friction in their employment. .

Still room maid: a junior maid employed in the still room; as the work involved the supply of alcohol, cosmetics, medicines, and cooking ingredients across all departments of the house, the still room maids were part of the "between staff", jointly answerable to all three department heads.

A Closer Look

A lady's companion was a woman of genteel birth who lived with a woman of rank or wealth as retainer. Where ladies-in-waiting were usually women from the most privileged backgrounds who took the position for the prestige of associating with royalty, or for the enhanced marriage prospects available to those who spent time at court, a lady's companions usually took up their occupation because they needed to earn a living and have somewhere to live. A companion is not to be confused with lady's maid.

Like a governess, a lady's companion was not regarded as a servant, but neither was she really treated as an equal; however her position in the household of her employer was notably less awkward and solitary than that of a governess. Only women from a class background similar to or only a little below that of their employer would be considered for the position.

The companion's role was to spend her time with her employer, providing company and conversation, to help her to entertain guests and often to accompany her to social events. In return she would be given a room in the family's part of the house, rather than the servants' quarters; all of her meals would be provided, and she would eat with her employer; and she would be paid a small salary, which would be called an "allowance" – never "wages".

She would not be expected to perform any domestic duties which her employer might not carry out herself, in other words little other than giving directions to servants, fancy sewing and pouring tea. Thus the role was not very different from that of an adult relation in respect of the lady of a household, except for the essential subservience resulting from financial dependency. Lady's companions were employed because upper- and middle-class women spent most of their time at home. A lady's companion might be taken on by an unmarried woman living on her own, by a widow, a married woman who lived with her husband and sons but had no daughters and desired female company, or by an unmarried woman who was living with her father or another male relation but had lost her mother, and was too old to have a governess.

In the last case the companion would also act as a chaperone; at the time, it would not have been socially acceptable for a young lady to receive male visitors without either a male relation or an older lady present (a female servant would not have sufficed).

A lady's maid is a female personal attendant who waits on her female employer. The role of a lady's maid is similar to that of a gentleman's valet.

Traditionally, the lady's maid was not as high-ranking as a lady's companion, who was a retainer rather than a servant, but the rewards included room and board, travel and somewhat improved social status. In the servants' hall, a lady's maid took precedence akin to that of her mistress.

In Britain, a lady's maid would be addressed by her surname by her employer, while she was addressed as "Miss" by junior servants or when visiting another servants' hall.

A lady's maid's specific duties included helping her mistress with her appearance, including make-up, hairdressing, clothing, jewellery, and shoes.

A lady's maid would also remove stains from clothing; sew, mend, and alter garments as needed; bring her mistress breakfast in her room; and draw her mistress's bath. However, she would not be expected to dust and clean every small item, as that would be the job of a housemaid.

A maid, housemaid, or maidservant were once part of an elaborate hierarchy in great houses, where the retinue of servants stretched up to the housekeeper and butler, responsible for female and male employees respectively. The word "maid" itself means an unmarried young woman or virgin. Domestic workers, particularly those low in the hierarchy, such as maids and footmen, were expected to remain unmarried while in service

"What the fuck is a lady in waiting, then?"

A lady-in-waiting is a female personal assistant at a court, attending on a royal woman or a high-ranking noblewoman. Historically, in Europe, a lady-in-waiting was often a noblewoman but of lower rank A lady-in-waiting was considered more of a secretary, courtier, or companion to her mistress than a servant.

In some other parts of the world, the lady-in-waiting, often referred to as palace woman, was in practice a servant or a slave rather than a high-ranking woman though they had the same duties. In courts where polygamy was practised, a court lady was formally available to the monarch for sexual services, and she could become his wife, consort, courtesan, or concubine.

The duties of ladies-in-waiting at the Tudor court were to act as companions for the queen, both in public and in private. They had to accompany her wherever she went, to entertain her with music, dance or singing and to dress, bathe and help her use the toilet, since a royal person, by the standards of the day, was not supposed to do anything for herself, but was always to be waited upon in all daily tasks as a sign of their status.

Other functions historically discharged by ladies-in-waiting included proficiency in the etiquette, languages, dances, horse riding, music making, and painting prevalent at court; keeping her mistress abreast of activities and personages at court; care of the rooms and wardrobe of her mistress; secretarial tasks; supervision of servants, budget and purchases; reading correspondence to her mistress and writing on her behalf; and discreetly relaying messages upon command.

Ladies-in-waiting were appointed because of their social status as members of the nobility, on the recommendation of court officials, or other prominent citizens, and because they were expected to be supporters of the royal family due to their own family relationships. When the queen was not a foreigner, her own relations were often appointed as they were presumed to be trustworthy and loyal.

The ladies-in-waiting were headed by the mistress of the robes, followed in rank by the first lady of the bedchamber, who supervised the group of ladies of the bedchamber (typically wives or widows of peers above the rank of earl), in turn followed by the group of women of the bedchamber (usually the daughters of peers) and finally the group of maids of honour.

Ok here is where it gets confusing

First Lady of the Bedchamber is the title of the highest of the ladies of the bedchamber, those holding the official position of personal attendants on a queen or princess. The position is traditionally held by a female member of a noble family.

Lady of the Bedchamber is the title of a lady-in-waiting holding the official position of personal attendant on a British queen regnant or queen consort. 

The Maid of the Bedchamber was an office of high status selected from nobility. She had often been a maid of honour before she was promoted, because of birth or royal favor. Her tasks were essentially the same as the tasks of the maids of honour, though they were of higher status. 

A maid of honour is a junior attendant of a queen in royal households. 

The position was and is junior to the lady-in-waiting. 

Traditionally, a queen regnant had eight maids of honour, while a queen consort had four; Queen Anne Boleyn, however, had over 60.

A maid of honour was a maiden, meaning that she had never been married (and therefore was ostensibly a virgin), and was usually young and a member of the nobility. 

The mistress of the robes was the senior lady in the household who would, by appointment, attend on the Queen (whether queen regnant or a queen consort). Queens dowager retained their own mistresses of the robes. (In the 18th century Princesses of Wales had one too).

Initially responsible for the queen's clothes and jewellery (as the name implies), the post-holder latterly had the responsibility for arranging the rota of attendance of the ladies-in-waiting on the queen, being in attendance herself on more formal occasions, and undertaking duties at state ceremonies.  During the 17th and 18th centuries, this role often overlapped with or was replaced as first lady of the bedchamber. In modern times, the mistress of the robes was almost always a duchess.

A brief overview of a medieval household and the male/king's equivalents.

[devsgames]

Hi there, sorry if this is an odd question. As someone with experience in the industry and as an indie dev (you), is it even worthwhile these days to be wanting to work in the games industry? either as an indie or otherwise? I ask due to the very state of things, Professionals are not safe from layoffs, indies have insane high bars to reach to even hope to be sustainable, it would seem better to maybe choose another career path in life (if you don't have an attachment that is). I say this as a long time hobbyist, occasional dreamer, but things have changed so much over the past decade that I often wonder if it should be anything but a hobby(speaking personally for myself). Like many indies I still love games and the craft itself, but it truly is like a roll of the dice just to stand out in such a naturally highly competitive field. that's not even mentioning the sometimes demanding volatile nature of the games community, or the work itself.

I guess it's all just kinda getting to me and bringing me down, I'd be curious to hear your thoughts on the matter, thanks.

I'll be frank: there are parts of this question I am simply not equipped to answer because there are so many factors that influence decision making like this. It's like someone asking you "should I have a child" - like I dunno, it depends on your whole life's situation and your personal values and priorities!

"Is it worthwhile" to get into game development entirely depends on what you want to get out of it in the first place, how far "in" you want to get, and in what capacity. As much as I wish I could tell people to go into games and have it just work for everyone, it depends far too much on what you value in life. It's impossible for me to reliably tell someone to do it or not to do it.

Generally, is it financially smart? No. Is it easy? No. Is it a safe bet? No. Does it take a lot of time and hard work? Yes. Does it offer stability like other careers? No. Is it fair? No.

Is it rewarding? Depends what about the craft you find rewarding. Is it better than something like factory work? Depends what type of work you like. Is it a good career choice? If you don't mind low pay and periods of instability. Is it stress free? Depends on where you work and with whom.

The industry is a shitshow right now with all the mass layoffs. This is true. It's The Thing on everyone's mind. It's undoubtedly going to make job seeking 100x more competitive and challenging for basically everyone hunting around the market right now in an industry that is already notoriously competitive, especially to juniors. Many people who got laid off likely are never going to work in games again, either for trauma or instability. It's taken the latent abuse and issues with technocapitalism and exposed it for everyone to see. If you get a job in games, you will possibly get laid off down the line. It happens to many of us.

However, it has always been this way. There were mass layoffs in '07 during the housing crash, and people got through that. Getting a job in video games has been an incredible challenge for the lst 20 years, and people have made it work. People have been making games in spite of shit working conditions, oversaturated market and lousy pay since modern games were invented. There are people whose lives have been dramatically changed by these layoffs, and some will never work in games again. It's increedibly heartbreaking.

Yet people will still keep working on games. I don't see that changing.

I've personally never had any illusions that games were somehow an easy path in life, nor have I minced those words with people seeking to enter the field. It's hard, time consuming and in many cases soul-sucking. I've always respected anyone who hung up their hat and went off to do something else with their life.

I know some people who left games to go work for banks where the pay was better and the industry way more stable. I know people who have dropped out of school because they realized job prospects were weak and they wanted to start a family down the road. I know people who left gamedev school because frankly they were broke and couldn't afford the massive debt that seeking a job in games would likely cost them. I know people who left games because frankly they just hated making games.

I don't blame any of these people for making these types of decisions because at some point it's a question of balancing your ability to survive with the ever-increasing demands of a needlessly aggressive industry (and it's a shame these factors - as any brought on by capitalism - weigh heaviest on folks on the margins). Sometimes I worry I'm too real when I talk to students about this stuff, but I think it's a survival skill to internalize these sort of things and factor them into your decision-making.

The point here is I can't in good faith tell any one person if going into games or not is implicitly a good or bad move because it's such a personal decision based on their personal contexts. All I can do is advocate the costs and risks associated with trying to tie it so intimately into your life - I think as long as people can see the cards they will have to find out how to play them themselves.

Same as above, I can't in good faith stand here and tell people whether they should or shouldn't do something like indie dev, because it has just as many risks as a regular dev career, if not more. Volitile game sales, highly competitive market, lots of work, little pay, self-management, etc.

I talk about this all the time, but unless you're the 1% of indies who suddenly get blown out of the water and everyone talks about, odds are good you won't be making enough money to survive on it. Way way way too many people who only hear of the most successful games treat them as the rule, not the exception, and then are shocked to find their game only making like, $30 a month. I generally don't think anyone should treat indie dev as a 'career' but rather more like a side hustle that might eventually turn into a career. Like, right now I have shipped 4+ games in various capacities, and my game sales are only enough for 1/2 a rent payment per month. It's why I took a part time job! Indie dev """fame""" I think is also a hidden factor that motivates people (why? Who knows), but it too is a lot like the money element, in that it's not really common and doesn't matter anyway because it doesn't put food on the table. Take these factors into account and weigh them as you weigh indie dev too. I

However I will say that I think like any craft, the current state of the industry surrounding the craft shouldn't (and in many cases won't) affect interest in the craft itself. I think if people want to make games and like doing it, they're going to do it no matter how easy or profitable it is, and no matter how fucked up the industry is.

I make games not because I want to be an indie dev or make money, but simply because I enjoy doing it and want to keep doing it. In fact, the times I've hated it most was when I was using it solely to make money from it to survive. It's why people still weave tapestries or practice weird obscure hobbies. It doesn't make enough to eat and usually they have regular lives and jobs on the side - they do it because they just like doing it.

People are gunna keep making games, because game development is not actually implicitly tied to the games industry in any way. You can make art no one plays. You can make art no one buys. You can make art for the sake of it. You can work as a line cook and make art in your free time. Game dev is easier and more accessible then it ever has been before. People will still keep doing it.

Sorry this all boils down to "it depends" but sometimes for big life and career decisions it does indeed just depend. I hope that no matter what choice you end up making that it involves making games regardless. Life's too short not to make art!

[findingnemosworld]

𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 - 𝐜𝐞́𝐬𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐳𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐮𝐞𝐭𝐚

・𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐬

( 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐳𝐩𝐢? )

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐥𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭, 𝐚𝐳𝐩𝐢 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐲 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧. 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥, 𝐤𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢 𝐛𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐳𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐚 ( 𝟏𝟎/𝟏𝟎 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝 )

[ 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 ]

They were neighbors, he'd moved into the building a year and a half after her to the flat across from hers, their doors faced each other - they only saw one another in the morning; trading a soft smile and soft greeting before they each went about their separate ways, she knew who he was, everyone knew who he was, however ... she'd possessed the common decency and refrained from displaying any kind of affinity so as to not put any kind of stress of him, instead she resigned to treating him like a neighbor, an individual you'd only see when you step out the door to go to work or when you finally come home after a long way to work.

However, around her second year of living in that building, that being his first - on one night, she was in the midst of finishing her latest painting when the sound of a knock on her front door had startled her, drawing her out of her own bubble; confused, seeing as she barely gets any visitors unless it was her close friends - she placed the wooden tray on the table along with the brush, and strode towards the front door to check who was behind her door, and when she looked through the peephole, her eyes widened; as she subconsciously tries to flatten her hair before twisting the knob to open the door, smiling she said. " César! "

" Hola " The Spaniard waved in a rather shy manner which undoubtedly tugged on her heart as she noticed throughout greeting him in the morning, just how shy he was.

" Can I help you? " She asks with a confused expression, she didn't want to appear rude, however she assumed he'd be asleep by now seeing as footballers tend to have a strenuous schedule.

" Erm ... " He opens his mouth for a moment before chuckling, " I had cooked, and realized that I made far too much and since I only know you, well -kind of- " he pauses for a moment, nervously rubbing the back of his neck before he said. " I figured, who better to ask to join me for dinner than you "

To say she was surprised would be an understatement, sure there was that small affinity she had for him, not just as a footballer but also for being a genuine person which is a rarity in this day and age, she smiled shyly, " Ok, but can you like give me a few minutes because as you can see " she gestures to the old t-shirt and shorts combination she wore, " I'm a little underdressed "

He grins then says, " you still look beautiful " his eyes widen and he adds, " please don't take that the wrong way "

She giggles, " Relax, I won't " she waved off his concern, " I'll see you in a bit "

Who would have thought? such an encounter could be the setting stone to a rather interesting arrangement, that dinner date lead to another and another, it paved the way to movie nights, and nights where the pair would just sit and chat over a glass of wine, ah yes the glass of wine which lead to the line of friendship between them to blur almost instantly.

César had taken the initiative, subconsciously leaning in to capture her lips in a kiss which she could only describe as akin to being enveloped by a warm blanket, no hesitation on either of them, the kiss had deepened, and before either of them knew it, clothing articles were thrown across the living room as they stumbled to her bedroom and that was the night that everything shifted.

They were both at the same place, too occupied by their careers to consider the prospect of a permanent relationship which lead to this very small and apparently harmless arrangement, they'd get together whenever they can, enjoy their time, no words were exchanged other than that of comfort and the most important rule of that arrangement, they do not grow attached, if they did .. one of them would end it.

It was facile at first, she didn't have the time to notice how tender and sweet he was as the charming and lovable neighbor across from her, only ever seeing him once they've cleared up their schedule and vice versa, it was facile until it became arduous.

That night, she'd gotten home and was more than prepared to sleep off the exhaustion; she showered the remnants of the stress and was about to change when she heard the vibration of her cellphone, confused - she grabs the device to cheek, and her heart flutters upon realizing who it was.

are you free?

She chews on her bottom lip, taking a moment to try and formulate a response, while her bed was more than tempting for her to sleep in, she wouldn't mind spending the night with César, she pressed the keyboard and quickly typed back her response.

yes, I am ... just got home from work.

it didn't take long for her to receive a response from him,

perfect, dinner is freshly made and tonight ... you're staying with me.

Excited by the prospect, she sent him one last text before changing into a pair of shorts and a plain t-shirt, she grabs her phone and keys then steps out before knocking on the door - around a few minutes, the door opens and he instantly lights up, snaking his arm around her to tug her into his flat, he greets her with a soft kiss and murmured against her lips with a smile, " I missed you bebita "

" I missed you too " She wraps her arms around his neck, " How was the International break? "

He sighs, " draining but I'm glad I am back because ... " he trails off with a grin. " I missed you "

" You did? " She giggles.

César smirks, pressing small feather light kisses to her neck then he whispers against her skin. " Sí, Te extrañé mucho mi dulce niña ( I missed you a lot my sweet girl ) "

Her bottom lip is caught between her teeth, supressing a soft moan as she thought of her next move - she grasps ends of his shirt causing him to look up, " Let's skip to the good part "

A wide grin appears across his lips, he hoists her up in his arms, nearly sprinting towards his bedroom, he closes the door behind him then turns around, walking up to her to cradle her face in his hands to plant the sweetest kiss before pulling back to help her remove her t-shirt, and then her shorts. " Hermosa " he whispers in awe.

Normally she wouldn't be affected by such terms, yet now it felt deeper, so much deeper especially when in that moment, he undressed himself and picked her up in his arms to lay her on the bed.

He takes a moment to look at her, truly look at her. " Three weeks were definitely hard on me "

" How so? " She wonders.

Instead of answering directly, he decides to peck her lips. " Every night I kept on thinking of you " he murmurs, lowering his head to nibble on her neck. " I thought of kissing you " he adds lowering his lips to her collar bone, " of embracing you " he whispers, " of fucking you but this time it won't be quick "

Her brows furrow, confused by what she heard. " What do you mean by that? "

He looks up, pressing soft kisses across the valley of her breasts followed by his digits teasing her nipples through her bra. " I am going to take my time with you " he sighs, " as much time as I can "

Her face grows warm, " Yeah? " she whispers.

" Yeah " He nods with a soft smile, gently helping her remove her bra then her panties, a soft yet deep growl escapes from his throat. " You are perfect, so perfect " he sighs with a smile.

Every night they spend together, seemed quick, a mere manner in which they both use one another to destress yet this time was different.

He cradles her face, their lips gently moving against one another in a rhythmic motion, his free hand caressed every bit of skin he could feel with precision and a gentle caution, the kind that had her melting in his arms, " César " she moans out his name which caused a surge of blood to travel straight to his cock.

" Hermosa " He grunts, " Before we go further, I want to try something "

" What is it? " She wonders, in between huffing out heavy breaths.

Instead of responding, he lowers himself down and spreads her legs, a sigh escapes his lips; hot breath fanning against her swollen aching pussy which made her whimper. " Please "

" Shh, I got you hermosa " He cooed, teasing her with a few licks before he wrapped his lips entirely around her pussy, using both his mouth and tongue with his hand flattened against her abdomen to prevent her from squirming further.

Minutes were akin to an eternity, the sensation of his tongue coupled with his digits was enough to elicit symphonic sounds from her lips which eventually lead her to riding her first orgasm.

He pulls back, and sits up to remove his boxers before he crawls back up to her to kiss her all the while he teased the tip of his cock to her pussy, hissing when he thrusts himself all the way through causing a groan to escape his lips, " Perfect " he murmurs against her lips. " You are perfect "

From leisure strokes to down right sinful strokes coupled with his lips teasing her nipples, she was transported into another world, " Te amo, te amo mucho "

Her second orgasm washes over here, more intense than the first and it wasn't until they were fully cleaned and tucked under the covers, that she looks at him and asks. " Do you mean it? "

" At first, I thought we were friends " He said, stroking her arm. " But we passed that line a long time ago, I love you and I want you to be mine " he kissed the top of her head.

She smiled widely, " I love you too "

[prospecllcny]

ProSpec provides MAPEI Tile and Stone Installation on buildings that are a part of our cultural heritage in Italy and all around the world.

[scontomio]

💣 Turtle Beach Recon 200 Gen 2 - Cuffie Gaming Amplificate per PS5, PS4, Xbox e PC 🤑 a soli 29,98€ ➡️ https://www.scontomio.com/coupon/turtle-beach-recon-200-gen-2-cuffie-gaming-amplificate-per-ps5-ps4-xbox-e-pc/?feed_id=270529&_unique_id=66d572f516fb6&utm_source=Tumblr&utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=Poster&utm_term=Turtle%20Beach%20Recon%20200%20Gen%202%20-%20Cuffie%20Gaming%20Amplificate%20per%20PS5%2C%20PS4%2C%20Xbox%20e%20PC Le Turtle Beach Recon 200 Gen 2 Bianco Cuffie Gaming Amplificate - PS5 sono la scelta ideale per qualsiasi giocatore. Audio amplificato, comfort next-gen, tecnologia ProSpecs e batteria a lunga durata, offrono un'esperienza di gioco coinvolgente e senza compromessi. Gli altoparlanti da 40 mm e il potenziamento dei bassi sempre attivo assicurano un audio di qualità superiore. I cuscinetti in memory foam ultra soffici offrono il massimo comfort, mentre la tecnologia ProSpecs allevia la pressione sugli occhiali. La batteria a 12 ore di autonomia assicura ore di divertimento senza interruzioni. Compatibile con console, controller, dispositivi mobili e altri dispositivi con jack da 3,5 mm. #coupon #turtlebeach #cuffieperpc #offerteamazon #scontomio

[antonjesus]

After tone-shifting speech in Saudi Arabia, Trump broaches peace prospec...

[etgroupgr]

Ψάχνετε για συσκευή ανίχνευσης χρυσού που συνδυάζει τη σύγχρονη τεχνολογία με βέλτιστη αποδοτικότητα; Το Minelab GPX 6000 είναι η τέλεια επιλογή! Με την επαναστατική τεχνολογία GeoSense-PI, αυτή η συσκευή σας επιτρέπει να εξερευνήσετε τον χρυσό μέχρι βάθος 2 μέτρων με υψηλή απόδοση, ακόμη και σε δύσκολα προσβάσιμα σημεία. Επιπλέον, η συσκευή έρχεται με εγγύηση 3 ετών και κατασκευή στην Αυστραλία, εξασφαλίζοντας ασύγκριτη ποιότητα και αξιοπιστία.

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[etgroupro]

Căutați un dispozitiv de detectare a aurului care combină tehnologia modernă cu eficiență optimă? Minelab GPX 6000 este alegerea perfectă! Cu tehnologia revoluționară GeoSense-PI, acest dispozitiv vă permite să explorați aurul până la o adâncime de 2 metri, oferind performanțe înalte chiar și în locurile greu accesibile. În plus, dispozitivul vine cu o garanție de 3 ani și este fabricat în Australia, asigurând o calitate și fiabilitate fără egal.

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[etgroupit]

Cerchi un dispositivo di rilevamento oro che combina tecnologia moderna con efficienza ottimale? Il Minelab GPX 6000 è la scelta perfetta! Con la rivoluzionaria tecnologia GeoSense-PI, questo dispositivo ti permette di esplorare l'oro fino a 2 metri di profondità con alte prestazioni anche nei luoghi più difficili da raggiungere. Inoltre, il dispositivo viene fornito con una garanzia di 3 anni e produzione australiana, garantendo una qualità e affidabilità senza pari.

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[etgroupbg]

Търсите ли уред за откриване на злато, който съчетава модерна технология с оптимална ефективност? Minelab GPX 6000 е вашето идеално решение! С революционната технология GeoSense-PI, този уред ви позволява да изследвате злато на дълбочина до 2 метра с висока производителност дори в труднодостъпни места. Освен това, уредът е с гаранция 3 години и производство в Австралия, което гарантира непревъзходно качество и надеждност.

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