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#tender estimation
fideidefenswhore · 2 years
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i don’t want to be pedantic, but all they had to do was omit two choice words from this and i probably would have been fine with it:
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darksadmirer · 1 year
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Main blog: @markle-sparklez.
TW/CW FOR: flashing, eyestrain, horror, body horror, blood, gore, death, scopophobia, body image, and mayhaps smoking (due to the nature of fanarts I reblogged).
SFW.
Will do 95% reblogs, 5% original posts.
Spam reblogs are OK and heavily encouraged.
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Mostly Darkiplier content alongside Celine and Damien, but sometimes Wilford, Anti, and other Egos may slip up from time to time (due to they're in the same fanarts with Dark).
May accidentally reblog the same posts again either because I love them or because I keep looking for more Darkiplier content and didn't notice I have reblogged them in the past.
[ Heh. You're welcome. ;) ]
Feel free to ask.
If I reblogged random posts that are nowhere near Dark or Mark and rather just random Tumblr posts, do not fear. I forgot to switch my account to main sometimes and will notice them, so don't worry.
enjoy your stay.
recommended tags worth to check down below:
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cost-consultancy · 3 months
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bidartpro · 8 months
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Streamline Your Projects with BidArtPro Top Construction Bid Management Software of 2023
Do you want to avoid juggling multiple construction bids, paperwork, and endless spreadsheets? BidArtPro is here to transform your project management experience. In the fast-paced construction world, time is money, and efficiency is paramount. That's why BidArtPro has earned its reputation as the top construction bid management software of 2023.
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1. A Comprehensive Solution for Contractors:
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Bid preparation involves handling numerous documents and files. BidArtPro simplifies this process with its centralized document management system. Easily store, organize, and access all your project-related documents, ensuring you save time searching for crucial information.
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In the construction industry, being on-site is common, and BidArtPro understands this. With its mobile app, you can access your project data, communicate with your team, and manage bids from anywhere. This ensures you take advantage of every opportunity, even while you're not at your desk.
BidArtPro is the ultimate solution for contractors who aim to streamline their project management and bidding processes. With its user-friendly interface, real-time collaboration features, accurate cost estimation, and powerful analytics, it's no wonder BidArtPro has earned the title of the top construction bid management software of 2023. So, don't wait any longer – elevate your construction business with BidArtPro and watch your projects soar to new heights of success.
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aestheticbf · 1 year
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When it comes to façade projects, it's important to have a team that can handle everything from start to finish. At Aesthetic Building and Facades, we provide a complete package of services, including estimation, tendering, procurement, site installation, and final handover.
We'll work with you every step of the way to ensure that your building's exterior is everything you want it to be. Call us on 📞 02 9622 2455
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B.Tech fresher or Diploma with 2years exp mechanical or electrical can apply before 6th Nov 2022. Send your cv to [email protected] Or whatsapp to 8518832525 #autocad #draftsman #production #quality #qualitycontrol #estimation #costing #tendering #career #job #freshers #mechanical #electrical #engineering #engineers #apply #applynow #cv #resume #vacances (at Indore, India) https://www.instagram.com/p/Ckf7DL1PfuH/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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Reason for unemployment in Civil engineering
Low technical knowledge
Less industry-specific skills
Low decision-making skills
Poorly educated
Low leadership skills
Outdated syllabus
No focus on adding value and enhancing soft skills
Read More
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nicelytousled · 1 year
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Steve's House From Hell
I'm bastardising @mcmansionhell's carefully honed craft to make fun of Steve's house from Stranger Things. If you like making fun of far more ridiculous houses and learning about architecture along the way give them a follow!
The Harrington's house is actually in Atlana. 8253 Carlton Road, Riverdale to be specific. With that in mind, lets get into the epic highs and lows of this property.
FRONT EXTERIOR
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Built in 1976 when Steve was the tender age of ten, this grey hunk of bricks boasts 4 beds, 5 baths, 2 acres of land, and of course the heated pool. These photos are a mix of shots from the show and pics taken when the property was last sold in 2009.
FOYER
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There isn't physically a chandelier in the Harrington's foyer but spiritually there is.
MAIN ROOM
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I think Steve's Plaid RoomTM was a set built separatley from the house? Unless that balcony bit has been renovated since 2009.
POOL ADMIRATION ROOM
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Why this room has two giant empty doorframes into the main room I don't know. Otherwise it's kinda cosy!
A KITCHEN
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I have no idea where this kitchen is in relation to any of the other rooms.
REAR EXTERIOR
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(as someone who has zero garages I may have gotten emotional here)
I hope you enjoyed this foray into all the photos I could find of Steve's dumb rich people house! Worth an estimated $421,700 today, it's nowhere near the fanciest or most ridiculous McMansion out there. Nonetheless I hope this inspires you to include it's more nonsense features in your fics.
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joelscruff · 1 year
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one thing i'm missing (joel miller x reader) PART FOUR
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okay wow, so since the last chapter i've somehow hit 200 followers and have received so much lovely praise for this fic ;-; you guys have no idea how much i appreciate it. life has not been going great for me lately and having this outlet + such a great response has been such a bright light for me. i can't thank you all enough. i'm estimating that this fic will probably end up being six parts total, so look forward to those! i'm also open to writing requests & suggestions for other fics so feel free to send me an ask anytime! without further ado, here's part four :) PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | ao3 summary: you and joel accidentally end up falling asleep together, and what follows is the beginning of a quiet and tender relationship neither of you saw coming. rating: 18+ explicit (mdni) warnings: (for this chapter) smut, age difference (reader is in her mid 20s and joel in his mid 50s), praise kink, (slight) dirty talk, grinding, handjobs, fingering word count: about 6.5k (yup)
You awoke in the early hours of the morning and slowly opened your eyes, hints of sunrise trickling through the cabin window and illuminating the dust that danced around the room. It took a few seconds to reconnect yourself to the new location, your gaze shifting to the chair in the corner of the room that still held yours and Joel's coats. Your lips parted in a breathless realization, the memory of last night flooding into your mind.
“I've got you,” he'd murmured, “Keep goin', don't think about it.”
You stared at the coats, heart racing as you remembered the way he'd held you so close to him while you came completely undone, helped you rut against him until you got what you needed, til he gave you what you needed. The way he'd groaned in your ear when you brushed against his groin, whispered “good girl” to you like it was a secret.
You swallowed, feeling the familiar throb in your underwear, recalling the thick strength of his thigh between your legs...
A rustle of movement behind you brought you back to the current moment, and you finally registered that Joel was still in bed with you, spooning you from behind again, arms wound comfortably around your torso. You couldn't help but smile and without any hesitation you shuffled back further into his embrace, tilting your head back slightly so he was nosing your hair.
You heard him hum softly, arms tightening around you. You looked down and felt your skin get hot when you saw how large his hands were, one placed atop your belly while the other had snaked its way up to your sternum, almost between your breasts. He was so strong but he held you so tenderly, forearms freckled with nicks and cuts that made your heart ache; you wanted to kiss every single one.
“You awake?” you whispered, not too loud in case he was still sleeping.
He gave you an affirming grunt but didn't actually say anything, the tip of his nose tickling the back of your neck. You shivered and leaned back even further so his body was fully enveloping yours, savouring the moments before he was fully awake and would inevitably pull himself away from you. You felt something prod at your lower back and you froze, breath hitching.
Guiltily you remembered falling asleep ridiculously quickly the night before without helping him find his own release, meaning he must have fallen asleep absolutely aching. You'd felt how hard he was while you were on top of him; it must have been torture for him to watch you have the best orgasm of your life and then pass out without so much as a thank you. That torture was seemingly still ongoing, the shape of him firm and stiff against the swell of your ass.
Well, it wasn't too late to thank him now.
Hesitating for barely a moment, you began to rotate your hips, slow and steady, pushing back against the hard feeling of him through his jeans. You felt his arms suddenly stiffen around you, brow furrowing against the back of your neck.
“What are you doin'?” he murmured.
“Nothing,” you pushed back even further, feeling the unmistakable pulse of arousal in your own jeans at the sound of his voice.
He was definitely fully awake now, and as he went to move his arms you reached up to hold them back in place, hands atop his own.
“You don't have to-”
“Shhh,” you ground yourself against him a bit harder and you felt him gasp, breath warm against your skin, “I want to.”
It didn't take much for him to surrender completely to the feeling of you being so close to him, inhaling and exhaling unevenly in your ear as you continued to rub your ass against his groin. Your hands loosened on top of his and he took the opportunity to move the one that was on your belly and carefully slide it inside the confines of your shirt, palming the skin there. You whimpered at the contact, grinding yourself even harder against him.
The silence of the cabin, the stillness of the air outside in the early morning light, it gave you that peculiar feeling of being somehow present in the world but also not. It was so easy to pretend when you were alone with him, so easy to feel like you were both the only souls to exist on this post-apocalyptic plane of America, of planet Earth. The only sounds in the entire world were the hitches of breath, the soft whispers, the quiet moans and whimpers that the two of you made together, melting into one.
“Feels so good,” he whispered breathlessly in your ear, nuzzling his face against your cheek. Without needing to ask, you reached blindly behind you for his belt buckle, pulling at the cold square of metal.
“Take this off,” you breathed, stilling your hips momentarily, and he removed his hand from your sternum to reach down and start to undo it, brushing against your fingers with every motion. When he'd pulled the leather from the straps you helped him to yank the long strip of material out from underneath the both of you, tossing it to the floor. You felt him pop the button on his jeans and your hand began to shake on it's own accord as you reached for his zipper.
He stopped you, enveloping your hand in his before you could tug it down, “You sure?” he asked softly, “We can stop-”
You suddenly flipped over so you were facing him, and your heart stuttered when you saw the look on his face; he was wrecked, eyes dark and blown wide, forehead tinged with sweat, splotches of red blooming along his neck and collarbone. It had been so dark last night, you hadn't been able to see what Joel looked like when he was turned on. Now as you looked at him and saw the desire in his eyes, the bob of his Adam's apple as he gazed back at you and swallowed, the way his chest rose and fell with every heavy breath, you felt any and all hesitation leave your body. You gripped his zipper with your thumb and forefinger and slowly began to pull it down, the room still quiet save for the sharp sound of metal coming undone in your fingers – it was practically pornographic. He kept his eyes on you, lips parted as he tried to get his breathing under control.
His underwear became exposed, framing the long and thick curve of him perfectly. You heard his breath hitch when your knuckles brushed lightly against him as you finished with the zipper, and your eyes snapped back up to find his again. He was still staring at you, watching your expression, gauging your reaction. Without breaking eye contact you moved your hand up to cup him gently, palming his girth and feeling your face get hot when you realized your fingers wouldn't even go all the way around him.
“Oh wow,” you whispered, voice squeaking a little bit as you stroked him once through his underwear, “You're big.”
He groaned in response, closing his eyes finally and throwing his head back against the pillows. You couldn't help but laugh breathlessly, fingers trembling a little bit in anticipation, “Can I take it out?”
He physically shuddered at your words, jaw tightening as he brought his hands up to his face. He pressed his palms against his eyes, inhaling deeply, “Yeah,” he replied, voice shaky, “But I won't last long.”
“That's okay,” you whispered, reaching for the band of his underwear.
BANG.
Your heads snapped up immediately, both of you freezing as you stared at the closed bedroom door in confusion.
“Joel, you in this one?” Ellie called out from the opposite side.
You both flung yourselves away from each other like you'd been electrocuted, toppling out of the bed like you were in a Saturday morning cartoon. Joel yanked the zipper of his jeans back up and you threw him his belt, then pulled yourself up from the floor to stand wordlessly across from him. You both stared at each other for a few seconds as he did himself back up, eyes wide in panic.
“Joel?” Ellie called again, followed by your name, “Anybody in here?”
“Gimme a sec,” he replied loudly, voice deep and rough, “Gettin' dressed. You alright?”
“Yeah, just wanna go to the springs. I'll wait outside,” she called back, and you heard the front door slam again.
You looked at each other, both still panic-stricken. After a few seconds of shocked silence you reached down and grabbed your pack, throwing it over your shoulder, “You go out front and lead her back toward her cabin, I'll sneak into the one next door.”
“That works” he replied breathlessly, eyes scanning you up and down, “Listen, I'm sorr-”
“No, I'm sorry, I didn't think she'd be up yet,” you tossed him his coat and gestured toward the bedroom door, “Now go, before she gets suspicious.”
With one last parting glance, Joel shrugged his coat on and turned on his heel to leave, shutting the bedroom door behind him and leaving you standing alone. It was only when he was gone that you fully allowed yourself to feel the weight of what you'd almost just done, your hand clenching around nothing as you stood in the centre of the room trying to catch your breath. You'd touched him; you'd basically asked if you could give him a hand job and he'd said yes.
There was no question anymore of whether or not he wanted you, that was for sure. But whether you'd talk about it or he'd broach the subject again was completely up in the air. This thing you shared – whatever it was – you hadn't spoken one word about it to each other. He wanted you, sure, but in what way? Did he just want you to touch him, for you to get him off like he got you off? Or did he feel something deeper for you, something strong and warm like you felt for him? How were you even supposed to figure out what exactly he wanted when you hadn't even had one conversation about what had been going on? You clenched your jaw, shaking your head and inhaling the stale, dusty air; you didn't have time to think about this right now, you had to get yourself into the next cabin without Ellie noticing. The last thing you needed was for her to start asking questions about a relationship you yourself couldn't even define.
You did your best to quietly leave the cabin, slipping stealthily into the one next door when you were sure Joel had led Ellie back up the path. A few minutes later you walked out onto the front porch with heavy footfalls that made them both turn to look, yawning loudly on purpose and waving in their direction.
“Morning, losers!” you called, “Let's go see some hot springs!”
-
It turned out that in her excitement for the springs Ellie had woken up much earlier than the two of you, which explained her sudden appearance this morning. Out of boredom she'd meticulously organized all the products you'd found the previous day into piles, resulting in each of you now carrying your own personalized bath-care bag as you set out for the springs. You rummaged through yours, smiling at the strawberry scented shampoo and conditioner she'd chosen for you; you'd told her once, maybe about three months back, that you loved strawberries. The fact that she'd remembered made your heart warm. She'd also packed you an unopened women's razor and toothbrush, along with some body wash and a towel.
“You trying to tell me something?” you teased, waving the razor in her face as the three of you walked down the overgrown path to the springs.
She laughed and reached into her own bag, pulling out an identical razor, “Just that I need you to show me how to use this thing. My pits are itchy as fuck.”
Joel chuckled at that, “Try having five times that amount all over you.”
His comment immediately sparked the image of that patch of hair that trailed from his belly to his groin, the hair you'd become very familiar with in the past few hours. You swallowed and adjusted your pack absentmindedly, trying to focus on Ellie's retort.
“You could use a shave, honestly,” she was saying, making a face, “Who knows what's living in all that shit.”
“Oh, ha ha, you're hilarious,” he rolled his eyes and slowed his pace a bit to gesture to his own bag, “If you really thought I needed to shave you would've packed me a razor too.”
“Okay, true,” she conceded, “But that's just because I was scared you'd shave off your beard and I don't want you to. You'd look weird without it.”
“I agree,” you said, probably a bit too quickly, and he turned to look at you with a raised eyebrow, “What? Beards are hot.”
It had slipped out before you could really think about how it would sound, and you saw the flash of something on his face that didn't last long enough to register. It was hard to read the expression that remained but he suddenly turned back around before you could get a good look. You looked at Ellie and she was eyeing you with her own unreadable expression.
“What?” you asked, feeling your cheeks go red, “They are, right?”
She scrunched up her nose in response, “I think I'm the wrong person to ask, sister.”
-
The springs could not have been more picturesque; there were two of them situated atop a small cliff face that overlooked the forest below, patches of snow covering hints of the rocky terrain. One was large and wide, probably big enough to comfortably fit thirty people, while the other one was more secluded and separated by the tree line for those seeking a more private experience. Without hesitation Ellie sprinted toward the big one and dipped her hand inside, jaw dropping when she felt the undeniable warmth of its depths.
“It's actually like a bath!” she called to you and Joel in delight, “Holy fucking shit!”
Joel turned to you and smiled, eyes reaching yours and capturing your full attention for a few seconds. It was the first time he'd made full eye contact with you since you'd left the cabin, and you felt heat rise in your cheeks at the memory of what had occurred between the two of you in bed, your hand on him and his eyes on you. The way he looked at you now, it was like he was trying to tell you something, but you weren't sure what.
“So how we doin' this?” Ellie interrupted, appearing at your side once more.
“What do you mean?”
“Well if we're actually gonna get clean we're gonna have to take our clothes off,” she made a face at Joel, “And no offence but I really don't want to see you naked.”
“Ellie,” Joel admonished, rolling his eyes, “Obviously you'll both stick to one and I'll stick to the other, which one do you want?”
“Whichever one is more shallow,” she replied immediately.
“Oh shit, right, you can't swim,” Joel's brow furrowed and he looked at you again, “Watch her, make sure she doesn't drown herself.”
“Aye aye, Captain,” you gave him a salute and he made an exasperated face.
“You're both ridiculous.”
Ellie grinned, “Thank you, so are you.”
“I'll test the small one, see how deep it is,” you shrugged off your pack and walked through the line of trees to the more secluded spring, leaving Joel and Ellie to squabble playfully behind you.
This one was definitely more tranquil than the large one, the thick greenery almost entirely muting the sound of Ellie bothering Joel beyond the treeline. The water was clear and still, a hint of steam rising like a halo above it. Anticipation of the promised warmth overtaking you, you kicked off your boots and unbuttoned your jeans, pulling them off and wincing at the sting of cold air that hit your skin. You climbed into the water without much hesitation and sighed deeply in satisfaction at the way the warm liquid lapped against your bare legs.
You took a few steps until you were almost to the centre of the spring, then had no choice but to lift up your shirt as the water became level with your abdomen. You kept your bra on, reminding yourself that as much as you wanted to just completely engulf yourself in the water with no inhibitions whatsoever, Ellie came first. Your feet still touching the rocky bottom, you reached the centre and grinned: perfectly safe, no drowning risk in water this shallow.
“We'll use this one, Ellie!” you called through the trees, not wanting to extricate yourself from the water now that you were used to the heat. No one responded and you huffed to yourself, cupping your hands around your mouth, “Come use this one!”
The shuffle of boots and rattling of gear broke the quietness of the clearing and you froze when you saw both Ellie and Joel appear, the latter stopping completely in his tracks when he saw you standing in the middle of the spring wearing nothing but your bra and underwear, t-shirt hanging from the back of your neck. Your eyes locked onto his, lips parting in surprise. You hadn't expected him to come with her.
“Awesome!” Ellie was already unzipping her coat and throwing it to the ground, reaching for her boots, “Joel, leave, I wanna get in.”
She seemed completely unaware of his genuine shock behind her, still standing there looking at you with wide eyes. Unconsciously you felt your mouth close and your lips turn up into a smile, not breaking eye contact as you continued to stand there with your bra completely on display. It's not like it was anything special, just a basic white sports bra that had gradually yellowed a bit over time, but you doubted Joel had seen a woman this bare in months, not since Tess. You watched as his gaze shifted from your eyes to your breasts and back to your eyes again, like he was self conscious about what he saw there.
You looked down at your chest and you felt your heart stutter a bit when you noticed that your bra had gotten slightly wet, your nipples peeking through the semi-transparent fabric. So that's what was making him so flustered. You looked up at him again and smiled wider, sheepishly, flirtatiously. His face had turned bright red.
“Joel,” Ellie finally turned to look at him, sounding exasperated as she finished untying her laces, “Leave.”
His eyes broke away from you and he cleared his throat awkwardly, nodding to Ellie and taking a few steps back, “Yeah, sorry. I'll uh- I'll be in the other one.”
You watched him go, unable to stop smiling as he tripped a bit in his rush to clear the area. You couldn't get over the fact that it was you that had him all hot and bothered, his hard exterior cracking away more and more the longer you allowed yourself to be close to him. Maybe he held the cards when it came to the definition of your relationship, but when it came to sex... yeah, you definitely had the power.
-
The spring was heaven; you hadn't bathed in hot water since you were back at Tommy's, and even then you'd only been able to take a quick shower. Now you revelled in the feeling of getting clean, the smoothness of your skin after you took the razor to the hair that had been slowly getting thicker around your ankles, the silkiness of your scalp after you'd masked it in conditioner. After showing Ellie how to use her razor you'd both turned away from each other, sitting on opposite sides of the spring to fully unclothe yourselves and bask in the luxuriousness, pretending you were both completely alone. The only sounds filling the clearing were the occasional splash of water and the birds chirping throughout the trees, calm and welcoming.
After a long period without conversation, Ellie spoke, “So you and Joel, huh.”
You froze, “Um, what?”
You could practically hear her roll her eyes, “I'm not an idiot. I see how he looks at you.”
Despite being shocked by her apparent knowledge of the situation, your heart skipped a beat at her comment, “H-how does he look at me?”
“Like he wants to jump your bones.”
You spluttered a bit, completely unsure of what to say and hating that you couldn't turn around to face her. Instead, you shuffled forward and grabbed the towel she'd packed for you, wrapping it around yourself.
“Put your towel on so we can actually talk properly,” you said, wincing at the squeak in your voice.
“I'm already dressed,” she replied, and you spun around in confusion. She wasn't lying; she was no longer in the spring and had somehow slipped back into her clothes without alerting you. She was sitting against one of the nearby trees, doodling in her journal.
“How long have you just been sitting there?”
“Maybe ten minutes, my skin was getting all wrinkly,” she scrunched up her nose, “It was gross.”
You wrapped the towel firmly around yourself and exited the water, walking around the edge of it barefoot until you reached the place where she sat. You seated yourself on a nearby rock, wracking your brain for what exactly you were going to say. She just kept doodling, eyes on the paper.
“What are you drawing?” you asked awkwardly.
“Nunya.”
Your brow furrowed, “What?”
“Nunya business,” she looked up at you then with a sly smile and you couldn't help but laugh.
“Okay, book down, we need to talk.”
She sighed but obeyed, closing her journal and turning her full attention to you.
“Me and Joel, we've been.... well, there's something...” you scratched at the back of your neck, “He... him and I, we...”
Ellie made an exasperated sound, “You're together, just say it.”
You winced, “We're not, though. That's the thing. Nothing's actually happened.” It was a lie but you couldn't very well tell a fourteen year old that you'd almost gotten to third base with her pseudo-father this morning.
“But you've like... kissed.”
You looked at her sheepishly, “Uh, no. We haven't kissed.”
She seemed genuinely surprised by that, raising her eyebrows in confusion, “Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
You sat there for a few seconds in silence, Ellie seemingly lost in thought for a moment before she spoke again.
“But you want to kiss him, right?”
You blushed, “Uh, yeah.”
“So what's stopping you?” her face suddenly became serious, “It's not me, is it? 'Cause I don't care, really. Like yeah it's kinda awkward but that's just because we're all so close to each other all the time, so if you needed me to disappear for a little bit I could. I mean, I've been trying to give you guys your space at night, you know, and-”
You put your hand up, eyes going wide, “Stop. You've been doing what at night?”
She stared at you like it seemed obvious, “I've been sleeping further away from you guys so you could have some time alone together.”
You stared, mouth popping open in disbelief.
“Why else do you think I vetoed the 'let's all stay in one cabin' idea last night?” she picked up her journal again and flipped to a specific page, then began to read aloud: “Sleeping in the cabin with the duck sign tonight. The lovebirds are in the sheep one, I think. Joel is so predictable.” she closed the book again and looked at you with a guilty smile, “I told you, I'm not an idiot.”
You just continued to stare at her, mouth open.
“Come on, it can't be that surprising.”
“Um, yeah,” you finally spoke, leaning back on the rock and throwing your hands up in the air, “We literally thought you were traumatized.”
Her eyebrows scrunched together, “By what?”
“By that...that...” you didn't want to say his name, “That monster. The guy from the resort.”
She nodded slowly, processing your reply, “Him? I mean... yeah, I guess that makes sense,” her brow furrowed, “but honestly, I don't think about him much at all, not unless I have to. He's not worth my time.” She looked at you again with a shrug, “I think I've seen too much shit at this point for anything to actually fuck me up that bad.”
Your expression softened, “Ellie, that's not something to be proud of.”
“I know, but it's helpful.”
You sighed, bringing your hands to your face in defeat, “Joel is gonna kill you, you know. He's been so worried about you, we both have.”
“Eh, he'll be fine. He's about to get a girlfriend, right?” she gave you a shit-eating grin, “Can't stay mad too long when he's gettin' some.”
You made a face and swung your arm at her, slapping her shoulder lightly, “Okay, you're not allowed to say shit like that.”
She rolled her eyes and stood up, tossing her journal back into her pack, “I'm gonna head back to the cabins if that's okay. I'm starving and that Chef Boyardee stuff is calling my name.”
“Okay, just let me get dressed and I'll-”
She put her hand up, “Nope, you're staying here. I saw how much you were enjoying the springs, you should get back in and relax a little while longer.”
You raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean you saw? We've been facing away from each other.”
She stared at you, mouth closing into a firm line as her cheeks began to flush a bright red.
“Ellie, were you drawing me?”
“...I gotta go,” she threw her pack over her shoulder and began to run back down the path, leaving you standing there with your mouth agape, “I'll save some for you!”
“Ellie!” you called after her, “I hope you know we're gonna have to talk about this!”
“Can't hear you!”
“ELLIE!”
“Get back in the water, loser!” was the last thing you heard her say as her footfalls faded into the trees.
Exasperated, you pulled yourself from the rock and dropped your towel, turning around and flopping into the warm water. You weren't even going to bother trying to process that information right now.
Instead you just let the water claim you again, floating on your back and closing your eyes as it rocked you gently back and forth. You basked in the peace for about a minute before you heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps in the brush.
“Ellie, I don't have my towel on,” you warned, rolling over to stand in the water, covering your chest with your hands, “I thought you were-” You froze when you saw who had actually emerged from the treeline.
“I heard yelling,” Joel practically gasped out, standing there completely frozen.
He was wearing absolutely nothing except for his jeans, which he'd seemingly haphazardly yanked on in his efforts to get to you quickly. They weren't buttoned, hanging off his hips loosely and exposing the hair that lay soft against his pubic bone, trailing upwards past his stomach and to his now visible abdomen and chest. His skin was taut, goosebumps tickling his bare flesh from the cold air, his nipples – framed lightly with grey hair – peaked and hard. Your gaze finally reached his face and his eyes had gone dark, lips parted with puffs of hot hair escaping his mouth with every breath. He was staring at you, not even bothering to try and hide the way his eyes fell to your chest, almost like he could see past the hands that cupped your breasts.
“She's gone back to the cabins,” you said quietly, almost too much so that you thought he might not hear you, but he did. He took another step toward you.
“Is she okay?” he practically whispered.
“Yeah, she was just giving me some alone time.”
His eyes trailed slowly down your body to where your skin met the water, where it lapped at your belly, leaving the other part of you that he clearly wanted to look at invisible beneath.
“Jesus Christ,” he took another step, “Look at you.”
You felt your face burn, biting your lip and feeling incredibly vulnerable as his gaze penetrated you. You felt yourself start to throb beneath the water and you crossed your legs unconsciously as he brought his eyes back up to look at your face.
“Tell me to stop,” he breathed, taking another step, “Tell me to go and I will.”
You shook your head slowly, “Don't go.”
He stopped at the edge of the water, his expression suddenly pained as he peered at you, “I mean it,” the words were a murmur now, almost impossible to hear, “If I get in with you... if I-” he closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, “If you don't want me, you gotta tell me now.”
“I want you,” you said it immediately, earnestly, voice barely a whisper, “Please.”
Keeping his eyes on you, he reached down and slipped out of his jeans, throwing them behind him. Your heart began to pound as he entered the water, eyes staying locked on his face, knowing full well that he was now completely naked but too nervous to look down at him. Instead, you slowly brought your hands down from your chest, your breasts on display to him as he traipsed through the water toward you. You expected his gaze to fall, but he never unlocked his eyes from yours, not even when he was suddenly standing directly in front of you.
“Say it again,” he whispered, and you felt his hand at your waist, gently brushing the skin there; you shivered.
“W-what?” you were completely intoxicated by his closeness, the musky smell of the body wash he'd used suddenly the only thing you could sense, surrounding you in a cloud of pure masculinity. He was so tall, so broad, so strong. You could barely think straight.
“Tell me you want me,” he breathed.
Instead of giving him a vocal response, you reached down between the two of you and felt for the firm length of his cock beneath the water; he was hard, long and solid at your fingertips. You wrapped your fingers around him as far as they would go and watched as he fell apart beneath your touch, brow furrowing in pleasure as he groaned, guttural and low. You leaned your head forward and buried your face in his warm chest, his coarse hair brushing against your cheeks.
“I want you,” you repeated against his skin, slowly dragging your hand up and down his shaft, shuffling closer so you felt the hot tip of it against your bare thigh, “Want you so bad, Joel.”
“Fuck,” he practically whimpered, and you felt his hand come up to cradle the back of your head like he'd done last night, holding you to his body, “Just like that, baby, just like that.”
You whined at the name, shivering when you felt his other hand press flat against your lower back, pulling you even closer to him. The head of his cock prodded at your lower belly and you couldn't help but look down, watching it breach the surface of the water, wide and dark. You stared at it, felt yourself literally begin to salivate as he fucked your fist, crossed your legs together even tighter when you looked up again to see that he was staring at you, slack-jawed and wrecked.
“This is what I wanted to do this morning,” you said softly to him, voice shaking slightly as the hand that wasn't on his cock trailed down his chest, “Just wanted to make you come, like you made me come.”
He made another throaty sound, the hand that had cradled your head moving down to cup your ass, “Fuck, I loved watching you come,” he moaned, squeezing one of your cheeks gently in his palm, “Prettiest thing I ever saw.”
You blushed, continuing to stroke him as you both breathed heavily and felt the warmth of the water, the warmth of each other completely overtake you. You pressed your forehead to his chest again and crossed your legs impossibly tighter.
“Don't do that,” he whispered, hand moving down beneath the water to grip your thigh, “Don't hide from me, not now.” Without any convincing necessary, you uncrossed your legs and allowed him to slip his hand between your thighs, thumb pressing gently against your clit. You moaned breathlessly, biting down on your lip. “Feel good, sweetheart?”
“Y-yes,” you whimpered against his chest as you felt his thumb rotate tenderly against the sensitive nub. His fingers were so thick and wide, everything about him was thick and wide. You could already feel yourself starting to fall apart when he ever so gently pushed his index finger inside of you, making you physically shake, “Joel.”
“That's it,” he murmured, “Love it when you say my name,” you began to stroke him faster and he grunted, deep and loud, “You were sayin' it in your sleep last night, do you remember?” his finger was now fully sheathed inside of you, hot and tight, “Moanin' it. Was I in your dream, baby?”
“Yes,” you whined.
“What was I doin'?” he carefully began to push his middle finger inside of you alongside the index, the stretch burning you slightly in the best way possible, “Was it like this? My fingers? Or was somethin' else deep in there?” he thumbed at your clit again, making your mouth pop open.
You couldn't remember the specific details of the dream you'd had, the one that had ended with you waking up riding Joel's thigh, but you could remember the main gist of it, which was pretty much exactly what was happening right now. It was almost too good to be true, too crazy similar to be reality. For a moment you feared you were about to wake up again, but then Joel slowly began to thrust his fingers in and out of you, and you knew this feeling had to be real.
“I don't remember,” you whispered into his skin, “But you were there, you were holding me close like this in the water,” you gripped his cock tighter in your fist, “Didn't want you to let me go.”
“I'm not gonna let you go, baby,” he murmured, breath hot in your ear, “I'm right here, never leavin'.” His breaths were becoming more frantic, erratic; you knew he was close. And so were you. “God, your hand feels so fucking good around my cock.”
His words were almost as penetrating as his fingers, and you gasped when you suddenly felt his other hand at your breast, teasing your nipple with his thumb and forefinger. You bit down hard on your lip again, keening at the overwhelming sensation of being so desired, so claimed. He mirrored your moan, eyes closing as he gently tweaked your nipple and squeezed your clit at the same time, making you clench around his fingers.
“I'm coming,” you managed to gasp out, hand stilling on his cock, “Oh god, Joel.”
“Come for me, pretty girl, show me,” he whispered breathlessly, “Show me how good it feels.”
You shook in his grasp as you felt your release overtake you, legs tightening again as he continued to relentlessly thrust his fingers in and out of you, thumb flicking wildly at your clit as you rode it out, repeating his name over and over like a mantra. You managed to start moving your hand on his cock again before your orgasm had ended, wanting to give him a similar release as he watched you come undone with his fingers. You heard him groan loudly and you opened your eyes to blearily watch as he finished in your fist, his come spurting above the water and along your fingers before disappearing into the water below. You closed your eyes again and whimpered as he carefully removed his fingers from your core, pulling you in close and burying his face in your neck.
“You're perfect,” he groaned against your skin, “Jesus, that was good.”
You laughed breathlessly, releasing him from your fist and bringing your arms up to wrap around him, palms pressed flush against his back in a warm hug. He hugged you back, and your eyes widened slightly when you felt him press a few small kisses to the space between your neck and shoulder, tender and gentle.
“My girl,” he murmured, and you felt tears suddenly sting your eyes, “Don't want anybody but you, you hear me? Nobody.”
You shut your eyes tight, holding him closer, “I don't want anyone else either,” you whispered, voice shaky with emotion, “It's just you, only you.”
He pulled back to peer down at you, and you were surprised to see that his eyes were also shining with tears, mirroring yours. He brought his hands down to your waist, thumbs stroking your bare skin as he smiled softly down at you.
“I'm gonna kiss you now,” he whispered, breath hitching a bit, “If that's okay.”
“Of course it's okay, dummy,” you replied with a smile, feeling a tear slip down your cheek, “Been waiting for you to ask me that for weeks.”
He chuckled at your words and leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your lips, his beard rough but welcome against your chin. You kissed him back just as soft, hands stroking up and down his back soothingly as you gave yourself to him, let him take what was rightfully his. He held you tighter as he pulled back to rest his forehead against yours, giving you your favorite crooked smile.
“Sorry it took me so damn long.”
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bidkon · 2 years
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Bidkon construction consultants provide integrated project life cycle management including services like quantity surveying, tender estimating, cost control, feasibility studies, project management & etc. Contact us to know more: +61 430194637 mail: [email protected] visit: Quantity Surveyors in Melbourne
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tenebrous-if · 4 days
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LINKS:
🜲 Play the Game
Estimated Release: N/A
🜲 FAQ
🜲 Pinterest
🜲 Character Descriptions
🜲 Family Descriptions
🜲 Genre(s): Fantasy, Romance, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, and Action/Adventure.
🜲 Rating: Tenebrous is an 18+ Fantasy IF set within the mythical world of Arvandor.
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The Kingdom of Aetheria, within the continent of Arvandor, is a nation ripe with history. King Lysander du Aetheria rose up and led the fledgling Aetherian Army against The Forsaken One— Herald of the Abyssal Uprising— and came out victorious when everyone else had failed. With his victory, Lysander placed Aetheria as one of the key pillars of keeping Arvandor safe; allowing for peace to reign over the continent for centuries.
Peace, however, was never meant to last.
The Order of Netheron, Followers of The Forsaken One, had captured you at the tender age of fifteen, holding you captive for a decade within a tower only labeled as “The Spire”. All due to their wish of resurrecting their fallen deity— something that they believe could only be accomplished by using the blood of King Lysander’s descendants; it was a ritual that didn’t go as planned— one that did bring back their deity, but only for your eyes and ears only; the both of you attached to the other in a way that probably wasn’t intended.
And that’s how you spent the last decade of your life… Growing used to the presence that now appears whenever the time calls for it. It isn’t until your twenty-fifth year that you’re finally found and taken back to Aetheria, to everything you had long thought you’d lost.
Your time in the sun, however, was short-lived as the tidings of an even darker uprising was beginning to grow— one that threatens to demolish everything and everyone.
Can you figure out how to save your home?
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🜲 Create your Aetherian Royal:
Name/Nickname
Gender [Male, Female, or Non-Binary]
Appearance
Hobbies
Personality [Mainly involving unique reactions to certain situations— the MC is semi-set in some ways]
🜲 Romance 1 of 4 potential love interests— each offering their own unique experience within the story and how the world at large will react to the burgeoning relationship.
🜲 Bond with your family after being apart for so long. They have missed you a great deal. [The MC is a middle child.]
🜲 Harness the magic that flows through your veins due to the gift of your blood.
🜲 Choose from a variety of skill sets that your MC may be able to acquire. [Note: This means you can choose something to specialize in, instead of having to constantly choose between being a diplomat or warrior. You can instead choose to be a swordsman while also focusing on the art of diplomacy.]
🜲 Build a codex from the various interactions that you can have throughout your story— from places, to people, to old legends that have tested the passage of time within Arvandor.
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Astorian/Astoria du Aerilon: The Heir to Aerilon, and the person that was your betrothed from the time you were seven until your disappearance. Astorian/Astoria spent every winter with you, and you every summer with them, in hopes that a union between the both of you would bring your countries together. You remember many things from that time of your life: their warm laugh, brazen attitude, arrogant smirk, and their inability to stay still for long. Meeting them again? It simply proves how much can change in a decade. [Can choose to have been in an almost relationship with them or still rivals.]
William/Wilhelmina du Arvandor: A recent addition to the Holy Order, who has an iron-clad need to help and be of assistance to anyone that may require it. Being a Paladin has been something they’ve strived towards for the last eight years of their life; training being second to nothing. It’s simply a mere coincidence, or the Divine’s Will, that their first major mission was to rid Arvandor of the last dregs of Netheron… A mission that brought them to The Spire, with a small band of warriors, to carry out that very task— wherein they find the Lost Heir of Aetheria. You.
Gabriel/Gabrielle Adair: Being renowned within the arcane arts, having achieved the rank of High Mage within the Aetherian Institute of Magic, it’s of little surprise that the royal family of Aetheria would call on someone with their skill set— if it weren’t for the scandal that still plagues them. You’re not sure what could have been so bad that would force them to retreat within themself like they have, especially if your parents had seen them fit enough to tutor you, but it’s obviously something that weighs heavily upon them. Will it be possible to wrangle out the secrets of their past when you’re still trying to figure out your own gift?
Ilyran/Ilyria Caelestis: The Forsaken One, an individual that’s visible only to your eyes from a ritual gone wrong. There isn’t much you can glean from them, after all you can only take what they say with a grain of salt, but the shadows that lurk within their eyes has nothing to do with the darkness that now lives within them. It’s hard sometimes to look at what they’ve become when you’ve seen what they were in Old Texts, when they weren’t the Forsaken One, weren’t the Divine’s Disgrace… When they were simply Ilyran/Ilyria Caelestis, High Priest/Priestess of the Holy Order.
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Eddie and Max get out of the hospital at the same time. Eddie's scars are tender. It hurts to move sometimes. But he's got ointment, and pain pills, he'll be fine.
Max can see, not super well, but it improves a little every week. Her arms are mostly healed, she still has slings for when they ache. Her legs are healed, technically, the bones anyway. But she's got braces and isn't supposed to walk on them yet. She can stand on them for a couple minutes off and on to stretch them. But she goes to physical therapy multiple times a week.
Her mom had been rightly worried and upset and freaked out, because they couldn't afford a van for her wheelchair. And yeah she can get out of her wheelchair if she needs too, but its easier on her body if she can just, roll in and out of a vehicle.
So eddie tells her mom he can drive her around. All they need is a ramp for his van. He already had straps in the back to secure things, they use them on Gareth's drum set. The relief on Max's mothers face and the way she hugs him genlty is... too much. He just smiles and looks away, nodding when she thanks him again.
He drives her to therapy twice and decides that her trailer needs a ramp too. A good one. He can't help lift Max's chair, so he just has to watch Max's mom struggle to get her up the stairs.
So he goes home and starts drawing. He can see it in his head, the way he wants it, bigger than it probably needs to be, but he wants the slope to be low impact, because once her arms get strong enough to move herself, he wants her to able to do that. He just... doesn't know how he's gonna manage to DO all this.
But he goes to the hardware store one day, with Wayne, because Wayne knows things, about everything. And Wayne helps him pick out the wood, they estimate the numbers and then buy a little more, just in case. And they load it up, and drop it by Max's house. And the next day, Wayne goes to work, and so does Eddie.
He ties his hair back, shoves himself into a pair of Wayne's old cover alls, and walks slowly over to Max's, she doesn't have therapy today, or the next two. Eddie doesn't think he can get it done by then, but he's gonna fucking get it started if it kills him. He pops a pain pill into his mouth, takes a swig from the water he'd brought with him, takes a look at the drawing he'd made, and gets to work.
Max rolls onto her small porch steps about an hour into Eddie's work, he's been measuring and cutting and just separating things into piles. She says his name softly and he looks up, squinting, he's covered in sweat. And his body fucking hurts. He wipes at his forehead with his arm and limps over to Max. She's holding out a new glass of water.
"What are you doing?" Her voice is ...tight. Like she knows exactly what he's doing. Eddie chugs the water and hands her back the empty glass.
"What? You don't like suprises?" He huffs, smiles with the tease. She smiles back, her bottom lip trembling slightly. He rests his hand gently on her knee, gives it a squeeze, then heads back to where he was,
"Go inside. I can't keep an eye you when I'm working and if you roll off that teeny tiny porch you're mom'll kill me." She snorts, but does as he says. A few minutes later Eddie hears the door slap shut again, and looks up to see another glass of water sitting on the porch. He shouts a thank you, and keeps working.
It only takes another hour before he almost has a breakdown. His skin hurts, he's hot, his hands are shaking. He's downed three more glasses of water. His last thank you had been so strangled that Max had just looked at him and then disappeared into the house.
He's sitting on the porch steps now, hands shaking in his lap, tears falling down his face. He can't take another pill yet. He's got two hours. He takes a few very deep breathes, about to steel himself and get back to work, his hands are on his knees, about to push himself up, when he hears the car.
He looks up, and Steve's car is parking at his house. His hands fall from his knees. But its not just Steve in the car, Nancy and Robin are there too. All of them in old looking jeans, and ratty looking shirts.
Robin's are covered in paint. Eddie's breathing goes shakey as Steve pats Robin's shoulder and points at Eddie. Robin nods and heads for him, doing a weird little run, Eddie can't help but smile. Steve and Nancy are grabbing things from Steve's trunk, Eddie doesn't see what things, before Robin is filling his vision, dropping to her knees in front of him looking concerned as her hands gently cradle his face.
"Hey you. You okay? Max said you might need some help." Robin breaths it out like a sigh, like she'd been holding in her worry. Eddie bites his lip to stop it from trembling anymore and nods. She nods back with a smile.
"Okay cool. Well, help is here. Help being, Steve and Nancy." She nods to them.
"And I'm gonna sit with you until you're feeling a bit better okay? Then you can jump back in." Steve clears his throat aggressively as he walks past her at that. Robin's face scrunches.
"Maybe." She tells Eddie. Steve was ... was he mad? He wasn't looking at Eddie, just helping Nancy get the tools they'd need out of the box they brought. Eddie had some tools, but just for one person. Robin rubs his knee gently and squishes in next to him on the stairs.
"So you got baby sitting duty?" He asks her, his side pressing into her as almost all the fight to stay upright leaves his body. She's steady beside him, holds him up easily, her hand curling around his bicep for extra support.
"Well, Nancy and Steve thought it was probably best that I don't handle tools. So yeah, but hey, babysitting you's not so bad. I mean you're a GREAT conversationalist." Robin smiles brightly at him, watches him try to smile back and then grimace.
"You okay?" Her voice is concerned now, and that apparently draws Steve's attention. He's at Eddie side in the time it takes for Eddie to nod, his face still scrunched in pain. Steve kneels, looks up at him.
"Where are your pills?" He asks. Eddie shakes his head.
"Hour an a half." Eddie grunts out. Steve's head falls and then it's shaking, he sighs, and fuck, he sounds disappointed. And he's glaring at Eddie when he finally looks back up.
"What the fuck were you thinking? Doing this by yourself, with no one here but Max to help you if you got hurt. Did you think about that?" Steve's voice gets louder as he talks.
"Steve." Robin's voice, a warning.
"No. Robin. This is... you could've gotten hurt Eddie." He huffs it, his voice is full of frustration, and anger. Eddie just stares at the ground, tries to breathe around the lump in his throat.
"I know I fucked up alright? Can we spare the lecture?" He grits, his voice is wobbly. Steve doesn't hear it, just huffs again and stands, Eddie sees his hands hit his hips and braces for whatever he's gonna say next.
"What was Max supposed to do if you got hurt? Huh? She can't help you dude! And Wayne's at work! You're all alone out here, when you shouldn't even be out here in the first place!" Steve is openly yelling now, both Nancy and Robin saying his name as Eddie's shoulders shake. Eddie clears his throat roughly, pushing the tight feeling away so he can speak. He shoves himself to his feet with a wince, pain shooting through his body.
"You think I dont know that? I know how fucking alone I am. Thank you. Steve." His hand clenches at the pain in his side, a whimper rips out of his throat, tears burn his eyes and fall. Steve looks startled, then concerned, reaches out to steady him, Eddie slaps his hand away, hard.
"Don't fuckin touch me." He growls, wipes at his eyes with shakey hands and starts walking to his trailer. His foot hits a dip in the ground and he stumbles, Robin catches him, just enough to keep him on his feet. She lets go immediately as he shrugs her touch off gently, and keeps walking.
"FUCK!" he yells it, to no one really, just built up frustration clawing its way out of him. He stomps, carefully, up his own trailer steps, and lets the door slam shut behind him.
Max's trailer door squeaks open, and the three of them turn to see her looking at Steve.
"That was harsh. I told you to come help him, not fucking yell at him and make it worse." The look in her eyes could cut glass. Steve droops under her scrutiny, his hands moving to cover his face.
"Fuck. I know." He groans. He looks up, and over to Robin.
"What's wrong with me?" He sighs, his head hanging again. Robin gives him a sympathetic smile, walks closer, rubs at his arm.
"You care about him. And you were mad. And when you're upset you get...." she trails off, thinking.
"Bitchy." Nancy supplies, moving to his other side, her hand on his shoulder as he glares at her.
"What? You do. Eddie was trying to do something nice. Something amazing, actually, for Max." Steve glares harder, she holds her finger up, silencening whatever he was about to interupt her with.
"And yes he went about it the wrong way. He obviously should have called for help." Robin chimes in, squeezing his arm.
"But no one said he was a genius. He's just trying to help." Nancy finishes, moving her hand over his shoulder soothingly.
"I know that. But he can't... he can't just help others to point that he hurts himself!" Steve flails a little, both Robin and Nancy leaning away from him, out of his flail range. They share a look though. And Max snorts behind him. He wips around to look at her.
"What? What was that for?" He asks, his tone, to his dismay, bitchy.
"Did you hear what just came out of your mouth? Have you met yourself?" She asks, crossing her arms carefully over her chest. She glares at him until he deflates. He sighs. Squints against the sun as he looks up at the sky.
"I need to go apologize." He says. All three girls nod.
"Yep." Nancy says, pressing her lips together so she doesn't smile.
"Definitely. 100% yeah." Robin squeezes his arm again, gives him an encouraging nod.
"If you don't. I'm throwing myself down these steps and telling my mom you left me unsupervised." Max says, her voice flat. Steve's eyes widen, and then he gives her a look.
"Jesus. Alright. I was already going. No need for threats." He calls the last part over his shoulder as he makes his way to Eddie's trailer. He bounces up the steps gingerly and knocks.
"Come in." Eddie's voice calls. Steve opens the door, the living room is empty. He walks down to Eddie's room and his heart sinks. Eddie has one arm pulled up inside his coveralls, it's bent at an interesting angle, he's sitting in the edge of his bed, his face is wet with tears. He flinches a little when he sees it's Steve standing there and that hurts Steve too. He moves closer, just one step and then Eddie chokes out,
"I'm stuck." And Steve moves fast. He kneels in front of Eddie, trying to look at the situation, his arm is caught in the sleeve, his elbow shoved into it tightly, he moves Eddie's wrist and Eddie flinches again.
"Does it hurt?" He asks, keeping his voice quiet. Eddie nods, bites his lip. The sleeve is pressing hard into Eddie's arm, right where one of his scars is. Steve winces in sympathy.
"How attached are you to these?" He tugs on the front of the coveralls, Eddie looks at him.
"I'm not. They're Wayne's old pair." He says, his voice tight from the pain.
"Okay good." Steve says as he slides his pocket knife out, flicks it open, and cuts the sleeve in one fluid motion. Eddie's arm drops free, another whimper falls out of him at the release.
Steve cradles Eddie's arm, holds it gently as Eddie catches his breath. His fingers squeeze Eddie's wrist and he opens his eyes. Looks at Steve.
"I'm sorry I yelled at you." Steve says, not letting go of Eddie's wrist. Eddie blinks at him. Stares. Then shakes his head.
"Don't be. I fucked up. You were right. I shouldn't have been out there by myself." Eddie frowns, wipes at his wet face. Steve shakes his head then, pushing himself up onto his knees, his back straightening, moving him closer to Eddie's face.
"No. Don't do that. It wasn't your fault. Okay? I shouldn't have yelled. You were trying to help Max. And I just... I didn't wanna find you hurt. Again." Steve looks at Eddie, really looks at him, tries to convey what he means without having to say it. Eddie's eyes are wide, and a little glassy from crying, but Steve sees it, the moment realization hits him.
"Okay. I won't do it again." Eddie nods, moves his wrist in Steve's hand so he can curl his fingers around Steve's wrist.
"Thank you. Just call us. We'll help you. Okay? And Eddie?" Steve swallows, stands and lifts Eddie to his feet, Eddie blinks at him owlishly.
"You're not alone. I'm sorry if we made you feel that way." Steve whispers it, feels his throat burn as Eddie starts crying again. He wipes at his face and shakes his head, looks at Steve with some strange frown smile combo.
"No I know. I just... it's always just been me. And Wayne. Ya know?" He says, holding onto Steve as he sways, dizzy. Steve holds onto him right back.
"Yeah. Well... not anymore." Steve shrugs, smiles, and then tugs Eddie out of his room. They get him another pain pill, Steve rubs some ointment onto the scar on his arm, and then they go back outside.
Nancy is cutting wood while Robin measures and marks. Steve doesn't let go of Eddie's hand until he has him sitting on the porch steps. Max hands him another glass of water.
"You're drinking me out of house and home Munson." She teases, he stares her down as he chugs the water, holds the glass back out to her and wiggles it with a shit eating grin.
"Unbelievable. Sending the girl in the wheelchair to do your errands." She sighs, but smiles when Eddie hops up and gets the door for her, follows her inside to help. He pops back a minute later and hands Steve a peice of paper. It has his plans for the ramp on it.
"This is sort of what I was aiming for." He shrugs, watches Steve look over the paper.
"You did this?" He asks, looking back up at Eddie. Eddie nods, wraps his arms around himself, feeling self-conscious under Steve's gaze.
"What? What's wrong with it?" He asks when Steve says nothing.
"What? Oh no, sorry, nothing's wrong. It's just super detailed." Steve smiles, shakes his head, hands the paper to Robin and Nancy.
"Yeah well, I wanted it done right." Eddie shrugs, Nancy makes a weird moaning sound behind them, both of them look to see her looking down at the paper in her hands, lovingly. She looks back up at Eddie.
"Finally! Someone else detail oriented. I'm making copies of this." She sounds genuine as she waves the paper, smiling at Eddie. He flushes red and moves to sit on the steps again. When his hands stop shaking he helps Robin with the measurements.
She measures, he measures, Nancy and Steve cut.
It takes them two days. But they get it done. The ramp wraps around the side of the trailer, where Max's mom always parks. He bought some plywood as well, to put down on the ground, so Max's wheels wouldn't sink.
The first time she pushes Max down the ramp she nearly cries as she throws herself at Eddie. Hugs him tight and then apologizes when he huffs in pain. Max grabs his hand, looks up at him with her bright blue eyes, and kisses his arm. Just a little peck, smooching the bats on his skin. But he gets it. That's all she needs to do. He knows she's grateful.
Steve shows up at Eddie's trailer the day after they finish the ramp. His eyes are wild and he looks like he's been shoving his hands into his hair for a couple of hours. Eddie gets half way through asking what's wrong and then Steve is kissing him. They almost fall into the trailer with the force of it. Steve catches them, rights them, but doesn't let go of Eddie, just lets out a breathy,
"Sorry sorry." As he keeps them steady. Eddie just smiles dumbly at him. Wayne stands from the couch, clears his throat awkwardly and pats Eddie on the shoulder as he leaves, says,
"Told you them coveralls was lucky boy." He winks as he passes them. Eddie's laughter filling the trailer behind him as Steve's face goes crimson and he drops his head on Eddie's shoulder with a dramatic groan.
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aboxofcereales · 7 months
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Currently trying to collect all the information about our companies’ life before the events of Baldur’s Gate 3. Mainly, about their family and age. Any suggestions/editing will be very much welcome.
Huge thanks to everyone who aiding the cause in comments and reblogs.
Last update - 29 October 2023.
Wyll Ravengard: is about 24, has left the city when he was 17, in origin introduction states that he’s been exiled for 7 years. Apparently his dad, Grand Duke Ulder Ravengard, raised him by himself, Wyll’s mother, Francesca, passed away in childbirth, when Wyll was born, as stated by Ulder’s longsword description, Wyll mentions her during a romance scene in Act 3, also calls himself “a single son to a single father”. According to Murder in Baldur's Gate: Ravenguard has never married and has no interest in domestic matters, moreover the said sword description calls Wyll's mother Ulder's love, not wife, which makes me think that Wyll was born out of wedlock. Supposed to have 3 uncles. I’ve seen a note about Wyll diving to see a mermaid as kid, written by his dad, in the high security vault. Florrick seen him grow up, had a crush on Stelmane as a kid, also during his childhood enjoined fishing with his dad, but sucked at it. Also, Ravengard's Scourger states that "Duke Ravengard's father was the sort of man who works with his hands, and communicates in grunts. In his heart his son vowed to do better. But when Wyll was born, Ravengard felt a strange gravity that drew him away from his son.", that strange gravity might be Francesca's death in childbirth(?). Generally, I strongly advise to take him around the city in act 3, as he tells plenty stories of his boyhood.
Gale Dekarios: still not sure if there any information about how old he might be, but I estimated around mid-to-late 30s, though it doesn’t really sit well with him meeting Mystra as a kid (btw there’s an absolutely wonderful post on this topic by @lairofsentinel, check it out), still I’d like Gale to be on the older side, alternatively, he may be around 28-30 due Mystra's return year. Personal headcanon - he's 37. He casted his first spell as a babe - a score of rabbits in the panty. Apparently lives separately from his parents in his tower, at least as kid had them both (mentioned when he first tells about his friend-tressym, Tara), thou in his origin (at least as much as heard and played myself but @vitanithepure confirmed it) only his mother gets mentions, the state of the other parent is unknown. Has a very tender relationship with her, but didn’t inform her about the orbe for her own safety, her name may be Morena (godsblessdataminers), Mrs Dekarios really wants him to find someone to settle down with. Also, Tara hates his beard.
Shadowheart (Jenevelle Hallowleaf): is about 50, comments that Viconia documented about 40 years worth of her life at the hands of Shar, in the same note she writes that Shadowheart was able to keep her heart true to her child self, and was hard learning Shar lessons. As I understood when she was kidnapped, she was about 10-13, kidnapping was directly by the Shar command. Personal headcanon - she's 51. After her abduction made friends with tiefling named Nocturne (they might have be more than friends?), had a pet mouse for sometime called Nibbles. There’s a grafiti somewhere behind Jaheira house which she has drawn. Shares a questionable taste of romance literature with Wyll and his father. Her parents’ fate, Emmeline and Arnell Hallowleaf: is up to you decisions. Her mother mentions that they wanted Jen to have siblings.
Karlach Cliffgate: early 30s I think, the way she speaks about Gortash makes me thinks she was practically a teenager when she started working for him and spend 10 year serving Zariel. Personal headcanon - she's 29. Her parents, Pluck and Caerlack, she moved them from Outer City to a nicer place. Her mom died due to fewer when she was a teen, dad a couple years later due to road accident. Both died before she met Gortash. Her mom seems to be behind her love for Minsc, Jaheira etc. You can meet her friend near Baldur’s statue.
Lae’zel of K’liir: seems to be barely 20. Githianky reach adulthood in their late teen, and as Lae’zel was yet to present a mindlflaer’s head, I think she’s the youngest in the party. According to Idle Champions of the Forgotten Realms, she's exactly 22 (but they do mess up astarion age). Personal headcanon - she's in fact 20. She hates owls due to their necks, Karlach agrees.
Astarion Ancunin: according to translation of his grave he only lived for 40 years before becoming spawn, spend 200 year as such. Safe guess - there's definitely smt wrong with his grave stone or/and translation as it messes the current year - from 220 to 250. According the artbook he was a corrupted magistrate, which seem to be true atleast to pre-release version.
Halsin is 350, his family is from the High Forest, thou they are all gone. Spend 3 years captured by drow, loves honey and curving ducks. Jahiera is about 150-160, as she was a child in 1347. Has atleat five foster children: half-elf Rion, half-orc druid Jord, three humans - Jhessem, Fig, and Tate. Minsc was a statue from 1409 to 1480s.
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najia-cooks · 5 months
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[ID: Sweet potatoes with black, charred skin on a decorative plate. One has been opened to show bright orange flesh, sprinkled with sugar. End ID]
بطاطا حلوة مشوية / Batata hiluwa mashwiyya (Roasted sweet potatoes)
Sweet potatoes are considered a traditional and nostalgic food in Palestine—a gift from the land, a seasonal delicacy, a potentially profitable crop, "red gold." Every fall and winter, as they are grilled in taboon ovens throughout Gaza, their smell fills the air.
This recipe uses a method of preparation common in rural Palestine, which applies direct heat to char the potatoes; the black, crackly skin is then peeled off, leaving tender, steaming, sweet flesh with a roasted aroma. The peeled sweet potato is eaten on its own, or sprinkled with sugar.
The recent history of sweet potatoes in Gaza is a microcosm of Israel's economic control of the region during that time. Though they grow well in Gaza's soil, they are a risky commitment for its farmers, as the seeds or seedlings must be imported from Israel at considerable expense (about 40 shekels, or $10, per plantlet), and they need to be weeded every day and irrigated every other day. Water for irrigation is scarce in Gaza, as Israel drains and contaminates much of the supply.
Nevertheless, the crop would be a profitable one if Gazan farmers were allowed to export it. In the shmita year of 2014, for the first time since the Israeli military's deadly 51-day invasion two months prior, restrictions briefly eased to allow Gazans to export some agricultural products to Europe; the first shipment contained 30 tons of sweet potatoes. However, an estimated 90% of the sweet potato crop was at that time unsuitable for export, having been damaged by Israeli shrapnel. The Gazan Ministry of Agriculture estimated that damages of this kind cost the agricultural sector about 550 million USD during this year.
Gazan economist Maher al-Taba’a holds that Israel temporarily allowing export of a token amount of sweet potatoes “is nothing more than media propaganda which is meant to confuse international audiences" by giving the impression that the siege on Gaza was looser than it had been before the 2014 ceasefire agreement; meanwhile, the number of allowed exports had actually decreased since before the invasion occurred. Gazan farmers, in fact, were not even allowed to export produce to Palestinians in the West Bank until 2017.
The next shmita year (an agricultural sabbath during which ultra-Orthodox Jews allow their fields to lie fallow) began in September of 2021, around the same time as the beginning of the sweet potato harvest. In anticipation of the shmita year, and in keeping with the trickle of Gazan exports that had been allowed into Israel in the intervening years, many farmers had planted more than they otherwise would have. But Israel delayed accepting the imports, leading many farmers to throw away rotting produce, or to sell their produce in the local market for far lower prices than they had been expecting.
Israel's habit of closing off Gaza's exports arbitrarily and without notice recurred during the harvest season of 2022. When Israeli former MK Yaakov Litzman called on Minister of Agriculture and Rural Development Oded Forer to import sweet potatoes from Gaza due to a shortage of the produce in Israel, Forer refused, citing Israeli soldiers whom Palestinian resistance fighters had taken hostage as rationale for his decision. Other officials were surprised at the linking of an agricultural matter to a political one.
Farmers had no choice but to enter the harvest season hoping that the decision would be reversed and that their time, labor, money, and scarce water resources would not go to waste. With these last-minute decisions that cause Gazan farmers to be unable to fulfill their contracts, Israel damages the future viability of Gazan exports to European markets.
Support Palestinian resistance by calling Elbit System’s (Israel’s primary weapons manufacturer) landlord and donating to Palestine Action’s bail fund.
Equipment:
A fire, wood-burning oven, gas stove, or broiler
A baking sheet
Ingredients:
Sweet potatoes. Choose a variety with red or orange skin and orange flesh, such as garnet or jewel.
Sugar, cinnamon, date syrup, or tahina, to serve.
Instructions:
1. Wash sweet potatoes. Place them at the bottom of a taboon oven, or on a baking sheet or griddle laid over a cooking fire or gas burner. You may also place them on a baking sheet or cast-iron pan inside an oven with a broiler setting.
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2. Turn the gas burner on medium-high, or the broiler on low. Heat the sweet potatoes, occasionally rotating them, until their skin is blistered and blackened in multiple places and they are tender all the way through.
3. Remove potatoes and allow them to cool slightly. Slice each potato open lengthwise, or peel away its skin, and eat the interior.
Roasted sweet potatoes may be eaten on their own, or sprinkled with sugar or cinnamon-sugar, or drizzled with date syrup, tahina, chocolate sauce, etc.
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themotherofhorses · 10 months
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When handmaid!reader was pregnant, did Aemond ever suck on her titties? Did Aemond do the thing where the husband is behind na pregnant woman and carried the weight of the baby?
oh of course he did. c'mon, aemond's totally a boob guy (do not argue with me on that). in fact, here is a small drabble over that:
pairing: aemond targaryen x handmaid!reader
warnings: tiddy sucking and simp aemond.
his handmaid's tales | main masterlist
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She’s begun to tire more easily as the children grew within her.
Twins, the maesters and midwives alike had declared, while pouring over moon charts and estimations. She is carrying twins- maybe two boys, maybe two girls, or maybe one of both. The latter would be absolutely lovely, she decides.
Prince Aemond’s dismissed her back to his bedchamber with strict commands to rest abed. In truth, a day of rest is most welcoming to her. Her poor feet feel so swollen, and she’s taken to waddling like a little pond duck around the Keep, heavy and aching with her first hatchlings.
The courtiers pay her special attention too, as she feels their eyes on her everywhere she goes. No doubt their comments are much worse. Alas, her Prince Aemond can only do so much to protect her.
So safe within his room, she lays atop the cool, clean sheets, curled on her side and cradling the dragon egg her prince had chosen for one of their children in the hollow between her swollen belly and tender breasts.
It is a beautiful thing, with a deep purple shell, speckled with tiny golden flecks on its scales that shined like gold, and holding it close made her feel a lot better- stronger and braver. Perhaps her babies sense the dragon inside, a siren call only the golden blood of Old Valyria could hear. Or perhaps she’s turning into a dragon too.  
“Oh, but I really am carrying little dragons,” she giggles to herself, brushing her fingertips against the tight swell of her belly. Saying those words aloud makes her feel giddy and proud and beyond anxious to meet them. “Two sweet little dragons…”
“Indeed you are, my love.”
She startles, glancing up to see Aemond looming over her with a small smile. There is a fierce pride in his violet eye as it rakes over her breasts and the curve of her bump. “I sent you back to find sleep, not strike up a conversation with the dragon egg...again.”
“The babes enjoy feeling the egg near them,” she shrugs. “That is why I do it.”
Aemond clicks his tongue, crawling alongside her onto the bed. “Did they tell you that?” he asks, voice thick with teasing.
One hand rests on her bump, fingers drawing small circles as she hides her head within his neck, feeling the children suddenly stirring in her womb. “Ah, seems my babes know their father is now here.” And the other drifts down to her breast, cupping and giving it a gentle squeeze.
She sighs.
Her dear prince, he’s taken quite the fancy to her breasts, now heavy and swelling with milk. Most nights Aemond sleeps with his head pillowed comfortably on her chest, face buried between her tits. They bring him comfort, he says a lot. He enjoys fondling and nursing from them too- as hungry for her soft gasps and moans as he is with her milk and cunt (his words not hers).
She cannot understand why, nor can she ask around for an answer.
A baseborn servant carrying royal babies is enough scandal for a terrible headache, and she can do without that.
She closes her eyes and shivers when he leans to kiss her clothed breast ever so tenderly. “I suppose this is good practice,” he murmurs as he tugs down her neckline, eye darkening at the delicious sight before him, “-for when our little ones finally arrive.” He then blows on her swollen nipple, smirking at the cute little whimper she lets out.  
"Look at you. Gods, you are so fucking gorgeous."
“Aemond-”
Aemond shushes her before taking her nipple in his hot mouth. Her head flings back on the pillow as he suckles, flicking it back and forth with his tongue. “Ach! My prince…!” she cries, hips grinding down on the bed, desperate for some release, while her pretty face scrunches up in sheer pleasure. “Please- please- please…!” Yet all her lurching, to his delight, just brings her breasts closer to him.
“You’ll feed my sons so well, my pretty girl,” and he slaps her breast, “I’ve known you’d give me fine heirs the moment I first laid eyes on you.”
She pants. “-want them, ah, to grow nice and strong like their father. All for you, my prince, tis what you deserve…!”
His other hand squeezes her other breast, tweaking and pinching the nipple until little beads of milk fall and she’s withering beneath him, a putty mess of cries and moans and shudders. Aemond smiles, her tit dropping out of his mouth with a pop.
“My lady- my sweet girl,” he tells her, lapping up the milk around her chest. “Pretty, pretty girl, all mine.”
By the time he's finished, his handmaid is fast asleep, with a sweet smile twisted across her pink lips. Her chest, now bruised and marked, heaves up and down with slow breaths. Aemond lays there, kissing her nipple and listening to her steady heartbeat. He swears it matches his.
"Mmm, works every time," he chuckles to himself.
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tag list for "his handmaid's tales": @aemondsblog @dc-marvel-girl96 @neobanguniverse @missalycat21 @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan @padfooteyes @alexizodd @avidreader73 @the-common-cowgirl @inlovewithhisblueeyes @elegantsplendour @katzarantos @fan-goddess @okfashionista @randomdragonfires
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zorosdimples · 1 month
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cw: mentions of alcohol and brief body talk. something something soft diluc… just a rambling sketch of his character.
diluc cuts an imposing figure.
he blots out the sun when he rises to his full height, crimson mane fiery enough to light up the sky. but it isn’t just his stature that’s noteworthy or intimidating—it’s the attention that his presence commands, the authority laced in his deep voice, the firm set of his jaw. despite his blazing irises and hair, his personality exudes as much warmth as a cryo slime.
the townsfolk often call him a recluse. he’s usually holed up in his study, working through contracts and records and estimations, pausing (not often enough) to survey the vines. sometimes he tends to his tavern, pouring wine and mixing drinks. those days are tedious and hard on his back—small talk is exhausting.
his after-dark heroics keep him fit, arms muscular and legs sturdy. but he isn’t lean or trim like he was as an adolescent; rich wine and hearty meals keep his stomach and chest—broad and strong—from slimming down. not that the nobleman has ever cared much about his appearance. people will always find something to gossip about.
anymore, all diluc cares about is how you enjoy curling up with him at the end of a tiring day. after he slips out of his finery, you untie his hair, massaging his scalp until he gifts you a heady groan. and when you rest with him, your cheek is warm against his plush pecs, your bare arm thrown across his soft middle.
you play with the scarlet down that covers his freckled flesh, contented sighs tumbling from your lips as your lover strokes your shoulder with unfettered tenderness. there’s a gleam in his eye, a flickering candle behind a glass of claret wine. it speaks of love, of comfort, of contentment, of hope.
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