#wilderness song rare

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

i may have made this post already but. if she wants me. lewvithur song

#the nemesis speaks #it's so rare to find a song that works for All of them but this one... this one. #obviously vivi is mostly the 'she' of the chorus #but also 'someone above has seen me do alright... you may think youre alone but you may think again' #gives me Thoughts abt her and simultaneously remembering+not remembering lewis #and also look at #i climbed a hill - i wanted to look down on you - but all i saw was twenty miles of wilderness oh i went home #LEWIS. do you hear me #lewvithur playlist of 2 songs exactly this and the only house that's not on fire

[mcondance]

come close; hobie brown

getting high and talking about anarchy with some old 90's shit playing is a crazy way to fall for someone. but it happens.

pairing hobie brown x Black!afab!fem! reader

contents lots of weed, different terms for weed (mary jane, cess), talks of killing politicians (y’all r both anarchists so.), masturbation (both you and hobie), making out, fingering, riding, missionary, mating press, creampie, unprotected sex (they're horny man dwbi), dirty talk, cervix kissing, lotsssss of praise, porn with plot (sorry i love plot 🙏🏾)

words 4.7k.. back on my longer fic shit!

warnings reader wears lipgloss, barely proofread so if you see any mistakes pls shoot me an ask!, umm i use the n word once!, i’m also,, not that great at writing his voice yet so.. hope it’s at least sorta accurate :3

extras the form i wrote this in is kinda,, unique igs but it flows rlly well i feel.

song shoutouts special thanks to lipstick lover by janelle monae, come close by common and mary j. blige, and green eyes by erykah badu!

signing off happy father’s day to hobie 🫶🏾

—

not quite plug!hobie, but hobie who always has weed, who you smoke with the first time you buy from him.

you usually don’t smoke with randoms, but you hear some old 90's rap playing from inside his car, and he invites you in when you comment on it.

"what you know bout this?" you ask with a smile.

"a lot, actually. you wanna smoke and listen?"

not quite plug!hobie who's fine as fuck as he sits opposite you in his ride, tall and darkskin with cool ass hair. wild ass accent and even wilder style, but he makes it work. his music taste adds on to his overall allure.

but his political views? god. the charm in the shape of a little 'a' surrounded by a circle hanging from his mirror lets you know that he ain't like these other niggas.

he's an anarchist. so far, you're the only anarchist you know. it's so rare to find someone who has the same values as you.

not quite plug!hobie who's car you leave with music recs clumsily typed into your notes, and someone to talk about politics with, though you're too shy to text the pretty boy with the good weed, so you're sure it'll never happen.

not quite plug!hobie who texts you when you get home to make sure you arrived safely.

"driving while high ain't safe, ya know? you at home?"

"i've done it before. i made it home."

not quite plug!hobie who's so nice to you, complimenting your outfits and hair, even noticing when you meet him the 3rd time with a new style.

not quite plug! hobie who you find out has been giving you discounts when your friends ask if you ever bought from him after their recommendation, and you run them in on the details. you think it’s just cause y’all smoked the first time you ever bought from him and you bonded over political views and music. you don’t think nothing else of it.

not quite plug!hobie who you find yourself thinking about more and more often, ever since that first time y'all smoked together.

not quite plug!hobie who finds himself in the same predicament.

not quite plug!hobie who answers the door on your 6th buy in a pair of red sweats and a tight white t-shirt that hugs his lanky frame, hair tied up with a blue shoe string. he invites you into his crib, citing reasons of having no one else to talk to about his views with. after all, it's the first time you both have time to sit and talk and listen to music instead of a quick deal since that first time.

not quite plug!hobie who you get faded as fuck with, this time sharing a joint on his janky couch, heavy hands brushing against each other with each pass. he tries to ignore the aching in his very core every time you speak your mind, your aligning politics driving him crazy.

you mirror him, shaking off the.. arousal?.. no, it can't be. you can't be getting all heated just cause a man is an anarchist. whatever. just ignore it.

not quite plug!hobie who laughs when you tell him straight up, “people aren’t killing politicians anymore. that’s our fuckin’ problem.”

"really? you're wild. but i get it."

"course you do." you nod, taking another drag of the joint. erykah badu's "green eyes" is playing quietly in the background of your convo. hobie starts laughing.

"what?" you smile.

"song's called green eyes, right? well we got red eyes." it's corny and wouldn't be funny if you two weren't high as shit, but you are high as shit, so it's fucking hilarious.

not quite plug!hobie who's eyes linger on you as he pulls laugh after laugh out of your chest with his snarky little jokes.

not quite plug!hobie who walks you to your car after your smoke session, telling you to get home safely. he passes out after his head hits the bed, that after smoke sleep being some of the best he's ever had. he tries to chase you out of his mind as he succumbs to the cess.

not quite plug!hobie who lights a joint and then pulls his dick out the next day, hard and heavy, and strokes it thinking about his pretty little client— friend? whatever — hips stuttering as he wraps his hand around his thick base. he's tried to shake you off, went all day distracting himself with this and that, but it's not working.

not quite plug!hobie who cums in white spurts splattering on his chest to the thought of making you cum in a room filled with smoke, some old r&b playin as he dicks you down the way he's been wanting to since the first time your pretty ass came to him asking for some weed. he wants you bent over on the end of his bed, eyes low and red while he fills you up and fucks you good, gives you his dick like he feels you so rightfully deserve.

not quite plug!hobie who you seriously can't stop thinking of. last night's smoke session has you on edge, so you light another joint, but weed always gets you horny, so when you slip your fingers into your panties and touch yourself to the thought of the pretty darkskin boy with the piercings and cool hair pushing his fat cock into your pretty hole, you blame it on the mary jane sitting pretty in your veins.

the fault lies in the mary jane for making you think about him laid on top of you, talking you through it as he damn near kisses your cervix, his wiry hands roaming your body. the fault lies in the mary jane for having your legs shaking, imagining your pretty plug folding you in half and ruining you, leaving you and your cunt sore and satisfied and dripping his cum.

not quite plug!hobie who cleans up while telling himself that he can't do this again, that you're not interested in him.

not quite plug!hobie who you block out of your mind as you shower. what you did wasn't right. it won't happen again.

not quite plug!hobie who you don’t buy from for a minute, cause you’re trying to stop smoking so much, for a while. you still keep in contact with him, though. daily texts, funny memes, and of course talks of anarchy. one day, you call him “bee” instead of hobie, and it sticks. he likes it.

not quite plug!hobie… who you fuck yourself to again, this time slipping three fingers inside your greedy cunt to satiate the need for him. it’s almost every night, and it’s a different fantasy every time. 

in the backseat of his car, bent over on his counter, pressed into his couch cushions. your head pressing into your pillows while visions of hobie’s lips pressed to your ear praising you endlessly for being his good girl and taking him so well torment you. you’re insatiable, but when you text you have to pretend like you don’t want his piercing scraping against your clit as he eats you like a man starved.

not quite plug!hobie who has the same dilemma as you.. he can’t even go a couple of hours without growing hard in his sweats, glimpses of you spread out on his bed with your thighs thrown over his shoulders, or you face down ass up, sobbing in pure ecstasy. it’s not made better by y’all’s constant texting, more and more of your personality being revealed to him each day.

you both share one brain, really. and that one brain finds each other attractive, of course, but it’s not just that. it’s not just pure lust. you two have more in common than anyone you’ve ever met, and that sinks ache and want so deep into you that every night and day is spent trying to rid yourselves of it.

not quite plug!hobie who you buy from again almost two weeks later, two weeks that were filled with funny conversations and deep discussions of politics through text. two weeks that solidify the growing feelings you have for each other. this time, he’s wearing a pair of blue sweats and a tight black tee, and his hair is tied up just like the first time you came to his house. this time, brandy’s playing throughout his crib.

you’ve only known each other for about two months, but it feels like longer, for the both of you. you take your seat on the couch as he grabs his stash and his papers, pulling out one paper to roll up.

not quite plug!hobie who sits a little bit closer than he did last time. he smells good. your head is swimming already. 

not quite plug!hobie who lights up and then lets you take the first hit, watching you wrap your glossy lips around the joint like he doesn’t wish they were wrapped around his dick instead. you pass the joint to him and settle onto the couch, raking your eyes over his lanky frame, and what you swear is a hard-on. no way. it has to be the weed. 

he settles back onto the couch too, extending his long arms on the back. his arm comes up behind your head, and you rest your head on it, smiling dopily when he directs his hazy gaze your way. his playlist must have ended. you're left with him and your thoughts.

“you’re funny, you know?” he says through a breath of smoke, passing the joint to you.

“yeah?” you reply, hitting it again. “everyone tells me i’m just corny.”

“you’re not corny. you’re pretty hilarious, if i’m bein’ honest.” 

and there it is again.

not quite plug!hobie whose words light that fire in you again, the fire that you’ve been dousing every night for the past two fucking weeks. fuck, not here. not now. you grab the joint from him in an attempt to push more weed into your system to flush him out, but you meet his pretty fuckin’ brown eyes and they’re low and his lips looks so good and he smells so good and suddenly you’re asking not quite plug who you’re two seconds away from fucking!hobie why he’s been charging you less than everyone else who buys from him and why he invited you into his car and into his house, twice.

and not quite plug who really wants to kiss you right now!hobie can’t even joke and twist his way out of this one. he’s tired of cumming alone to the thought of you. the worst you can do is leave. but the best? god, so many things.

“'s cause i think you’re pretty. n' i really wanna kiss you right now.”

“then do it.”

not quite plug!hobie who tastes like weed and chocolate. the hand that was resting on the back of the couch finds it’s way to the small of your back, fingers drawing nonsensical shapes into it. your hands find his knee and his neck as you press your lips into his. you slide closer to him, and then he’s using the hand resting on your back to push you into his lap, hands settling on your hips as you settle above him, your hands circling around his neck.

“how long?” you ask between kisses.

“since the day you walked up to my car.” he responds quietly, cheeks heating up with embarrassment. he’s quick to trap your lips again.

god, he is hard. and he’s big, you can feel him pressing against the inside of your thigh. you hold your tongue, figuring you could deal with that later. right now, you just need to get out what you’ve been keeping in since the day you two met and you spotted the little ‘a’ hanging from his mirror.

the kiss grows deeper and he grows a little less shy, starting to use his hands gripping your waist to grind you against him. heat floods you when you realize that he's pulling you onto his cock, pressing your cunt against him, separated by the fabric of his sweats and your shorts.

you find his rhythm, falling into the pattern of his soft pushes and presses, a gentle lull of bodies moving against each other that makes you even more comfortable than you already are. soft little groans escaping the both of you, mixing with the smoke and infatuation in the air.

he lets you move the way you want, lithe fingers tracing up your back, hovering over where your hair falls onto your neck. he keeps kissing you for a minute, seemingly frozen. but then he's pulling away to speak, "can i- can i touch your hair?"

you stop moving with a smile. you nod. "yeah. thanks for asking." you kiss him again.

"course, love." he nods, and then he kisses you again. his long fingers snake into your hair, gently and softly. he strokes his hands through your locks, in time with your kisses and the movements of your hips that have started again. hands migrating from his neck, sliding down his chest, laying flat-palmed. your fingers slide under his tee, curling and gripping to pull him ever closer to you.

not quite plug!hobie who could kiss you forever. you could too, but you want more. you need him. so you pull away just a little, murmur "can feel you against me." chills rack through him at your words.

"i know. 'm so hard, darlin'." he pushes his hips up just a little, drawing a muffled whine from you.

"been wantin' you so bad.." you trail off. hobie takes it upon himself to move his hands from your hair to the waistband of your shorts, eyes fixed on yours, watching your every move. you nod, giving him permission to snake his fingers into your shorts, fingers that are met with no resistance.

"no panties? did'ya plan this, doll?" he smiles, slim fingers exploring your wetness, doing what he can with the limited space.

"mhm." you shake your head. "'s more comfortable." he hums in agreement. he circles your clit with his middle finger, dipping towards your entrance to collect more slick. you push down against his fingers, causing him to have to crane his wrist to reach you.

"can we take these off? can't touch you the way i wanna." you blush, averting your eyes to focus on the hand that disappears into your shorts.

"yeah." you breathe shakily, standing up and letting hobie pull them down your legs, hands on his shoulders as balance. your shirt is long, and it falls down to give you some modesty. hobie throws your shorts somewhere behind you before he leans back, giving you space to sit back down.

he looks so fucking good, brown eyes staring at you like you hung the stars in the sky. he reaches out for you, pulling you back into his lap by your hips. his hand disappears under your shirt while his lips find yours again, exploring you more freely this time.

"so wet, doll." he murmurs between one kiss and another, smiling when you whine. his fingers move at different speeds, pressing in different areas and circling at different speeds until he finds a combination that makes you jolt against him, whining "bee."

"thaaaaat's it, love." this time, you don't return your lips to his, instead tucking your head into his neck as you hump shamelessly against his hand, his cock pressing hard and heavy against your thigh. "keep going, baby," he urges, "show me how it feels."

and you do. you shiver and shake and whine and groan in pleasure, pressing kisses in his brown skin as he touches you the way he touched himself thinking about.

not quite plug!hobie who presses his thumb into your clit, sliding his hand farther down to tease your drooling hole. "'s wet, love. g'na feel so good 'round me." you moan loudly at that, at the thought of your fantasies coming true. you cant your hips down, sliding down his fingers until they're seated inside you, stroking gently at your sensitive walls.

pulling them out softly, he curls his fingers, twisting his wrist as you whine and mouth at his neck. "'s okay. you can bite." he nods, catching onto what you were holding yourself back from. you still don't, resign to licking and sucking instead.

until his fingers catch the spongy spot inside you, and your teeth are sinking into the column. "fuck," you damn near shout, pushing yourself onto his hand. he groans in response, pleased to be pleasing you and indulging in the pain you inflict on him. thumb on your clit and fingers playing with that spot, he brings his other hand from your hip to your hair to soothe you, to ground you.

it's sweet, really, his hand in your hair while the other one touches you the way you've been dreaming of. coos and hums meet your ears, soft sounds of affirmation egging you on to let yourself get lost in the pleasure he delivers you. arousal steadily dripping out of your hole, hobie's fingers sliding easier and easier inside you until he can pull out and slip right back in.

"you're so pretty, dove, fuckin' dreamgirl." he murmurs, staring down at your pretty face, arched eyebrows turned down in ecstasy, lips parted. the praise takes you closer and closer to the edge, his deep voice reverberating throughout your entire being, the pangs of arousal in your clit growing harder and faster. you're close.

you're so goddamn close to cumming for a boy you just wanted to buy from. his long fingers reach deep, deeper than you could ever even dream of. “hobie- i- i’m g’na-” you stutter against his neck, hips stuttering against his fingers.

“‘s okay, love, cum. i’m right here.” the rubber band snaps, and you're tightening your thighs around his hand while you shake and shiver, eyes closed tight with soft whines of "hobie, god it feels so good" tumbling from your lips. you tighten around his fingers, too, squeeze him so tight he winces, cause he just knows you're gonna feel so good wrapped around him. he pushes that thought away, though, focused on helping you ride out your orgasm.

fingers pressing into your clit and that spot inside you, he makes sure to milk every last second of your climax, eyes fixed on your ethereal features. aftershocks still racking through you, you finally open your eyes, and he takes it as a sign to gently pull his fingers out of you and wipe them on his sweats, and you shudder at the feeling.

"that was. . so much better than i imagined. n' i imagined it being pretty good." you smile and giggle, placing a kiss on his neck. he laughs in response, raising his eyebrows at your confession.

"bet i'm a better fuck than you imagined, too." the air in the room shifts again, and suddenly you're aware of his cock pressed against your thigh through his sweats again.

"bet you are."

you raise up, kissing him again as your hands find the waistband of his sweats and invite themselves in, meeting his dick that's been hard since you first sat down on his couch. "and i'm the one who planned this? you're free-balling." you murmur against his lips, and he mirrors your words from earlier.

"'s more comfortable, 's all— fuck." he's cut off when you pull his cock out of his sweats and run your finger over his pretty brown tip, dipping into his slit. his hips thrust up, chasing your soft hand. "g'na drive me crazy." he almost whines, jerking against you when you swipe your thumb against his aching tip again.

"just returnin' the favor." you shoot back, raising up to hover over him, swiping his leaking dick through your wetness. he wraps his hand around his thick base, moving in time with your teasing strokes. "you're big." you groan, hesitating to seat yourself on him.

"i know, doll, you can take it though. we'll make you take it." he speaks into your clothed chest, muffled and horny, and you’re sure he means what he says. you drip even more at his words, sticky slick wetting his fat tip.

not quite plug!hobie whose hands are on your hips as you sink down onto his pretty dick, whining into his neck as he encourages you. “you got it, baby, you’re takin’ me so well. god, she’s so wet.”

"she— fuck that's so hot," you moan, eyes rolling back at his words.

"mhm?" he hums.

you don't respond, too busy focusing on his fat cock pushing into you, focusing on the way you both make it fit, exactly like he said you would. finally, he bottoms out, your thighs resting against his sweats.

"g' job, babe. knew you could take me." you jolt against him, his heady words sending another pang of arousal straight to where you two meet.

not quite!plug hobie who you tell to move, raising your hips up as he pulls out, meeting him in the middle as he fills you back up. his hips slot against yours again, and his big chocolate eyes are fixed on yours, gazing upon you in adoration, while your eyes are fixed on where he disappears into you.

"so big, feels s'good. ." you whisper, meeting his gaze. the look in his eyes has chills running down your spine as you raise your hips again, choosing to connect your lips with his again. hobie starts to find a rhythm, now, wrapping his long arms around your waist. you swap spit with him as his hips meet your ass, taking over.

body bouncing with each of his thrusts into your pussy, arms wrapped around his neck. his lips slipping against yours, plump and wet. you both take it slow, basking in the feeling of finally being like this with someone you've wanted since you first saw them.

he fills you up so nicely, thick cock nestled in your achy walls, leaking tip just barely kissing your cervix as he thrusts just a bit harder and you push down a little more.

"y'feel me, darlin? 'm all the way in, at the end of you, god, 'm g'na make you mine." he babbles in pleasure, pushing his hips up even harder. still soft, but firm, and deliberate.

you nod against his lips, hand resting on his cheek. "feel you, bee, feel you in my fuckin' stomach, i swear." you feed off of him and he feeds off of you, kissing and slapping your hips against the others, wild and wanting. "fuckin' me so good, bee, makin' me yours."

"makin' me yours, doll, pussy's squeezin' me like she don't w'na let go."

"don't wanna let go, wan' you so bad." you confess, bringing your ass down onto his cock again. "i— fuck," you sob. his cock curves just right, and with his tip pressing against your spot now, hobie's found new determination.

"that it?" he asks, making sure to keep hitting that spongy patch of skin with every thrust, sheathing his cock in your wet heat.

"'s it, hobie, feels so good, shit." the high has worn off by now, leaving pure emotions and desire driving you two. you get tight around him again, cunt pulsing with every slam of his hips against yours. you feel so good around him, so tight and wet.

"'m g'na—, you're gonna make me cum, bee."

he moves one hand from around your waist at that, sliding between you two to toy with your clit, thumb rubbing wild shapes against the throbbing bud.

"fuck," you cry, grinding against his thumb and down onto his dick.

"you close again, doll? wan' you to wet me up, ma'me a mess," he encourages, big brown eyes fixed on yours like they've been the whole night.

"'m so close, bee, wanna cum for you, wanna wet you up."

"then do it." he mirrors your words from earlier, and the pleasure pulsing through your veins and infatuation swirling around in your blood gets to be too much, and you cum on his cock, still slamming your hips down onto him, meeting his thrusts in the middle. "thaaaat's it, doll." you hear hobie praise through the fog in your mind, bounces turned to messy grinds as you get all tight around him, cumming hard.

"y'alright, love?" he asks, moving your hair out of your face.

"mhm. w'na go again, you haven't come yet." he chuckles at your words, wrapping both hands around your waist and kissing you again.

"lay back, love." he murmurs against your lips, flipping you onto the couch. your back meets the smooth fabric as he lays you down, pulling his tee and his sweats off. you follow suit, stripping your shirt off and throwing it somewhere behind his couch. his watchful eyes fall on your face, then your tits, then your cunt, taking your body in for the first time.

he finds his place on top of you, balancing himself on his elbows as he kisses you again. he reaches down, but you stop him. "lemme do it," you urge, replacing his hand. you line him up with your sopping entrance, nodding twice to tell him to push in.

the stretch is so fucking good, his cock bullying it's way into your tight cunt again.

"fuck, that's it," he curses, watching your face as he seats himself in your once again.

"so deep. ." you trail off, looking down at your stomach, and oh fuck, no way.

"hobie, hobes, look," you urge, and he points his gaze to where you're looking.

"oh, love, look at that. can see myself, right there," he presses down on the bulge he creates, ripping a broken moan straight from your throat.

"fuck me, please," you sob, squirming under him. he nods, understanding, and finds his rhythm easier this time, lean hips slapping against you. your body jolts up the couch with every thrust, choppy whines of nonsensical sentences leaving your mouth.

not quite plug who's absolutely pussydrunk!hobie can't get enough of your cunt, the way you squeeze him oh so tight, the wet squelches of your heat drawing him further into madness. he needs to go deeper, needs to fuck you harder, so he raises up, throwing your legs over his shoulders, leaning back down to bury his cock deep inside you.

"baby, fuck." it's a gritted groan, head rolling back onto the couch as he mouths at your neck, licking and biting at your heated skin. his thrusts are slow and firm, dick kissing your cervix, the slaps sounding out through his living room.

you're both quiet this time around, too blissed out to do anything but fuck, allowing yourselves to succumb to pleasure. every inch of his cock fills you, driving you crazy, driving him crazy too. it's intimate, his lips on your neck, your fingers palming at his back, limbs tangled together. and you can feel it building up in you again.

"'m g'na cum, hobes." he moves one of his arms, bringing his thumb down to rub at your clit, still mouthing at your neck. he lets it happen this time, doesn't urge you or change anything he's doing, and you coast into your climax so gratifyingly that you almost cry, squeezing him tight once again. now, your focus is on making him cum.

"wan' you to cum, hobes."

"gotta pull out, love. we ain' even put a rubber on." he realizes.

"no you don't. 'm clean. jus' fill me up, please." in your right mind, you wouldn't let him, but you're not in your right mind, and neither is he. so he cums with a groan, shaking as he spills pressed against your cervix.

the air's.. different now, satisfied and calm. you both lay there for a while, until hobie's picking you up and carrying you to the bathroom to clean you up.

after, he lights another joint that you two share tucked under his covers, hugged up like a couple.

not quite plug!hobie holds you as you both fall asleep.

#hobie brown smut #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x black reader #hobie smut #hobie x black reader #hobie x reader #tw weed #ummmm yeah that happened #hope y'all like it #wrote most of this today :3 #OKAY TIME 2 POST

[m0nsterqzzz]

Capture the Flag

pairing: clarisse la rue x child of apollo!reader

summary: you hate capture the flag, and clarisse hates people hurting you. that's that.

warnings: kidnapping? *done by a bunch of demigod teenagers for the simple outcome of winning a game* mentions of murder because what is a clarisse fic without it? swearing? kinda oc clarisse just because I can't write anything else without turning it into enemies to lovers

a/n: she is my love. clarisse defender for life.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Clarisse La Rue.

The name sparks fear in many people at Camp Half Blood. Kids cower when she’s near, or run away when she walks towards them. It makes her happy, having people fear her. She thrives off of it, being a daughter of Ares; the god of war.

But too you? The name brings warmth, comfort, and love. It’s very rare her wrath has ever been directed towards you, and the few times it has been was when she didn’t know you. When you were just another camper to her.

It only took a few days at camp for you to be claimed by your father, Apollo. 

It made sense really, your bubbly and energetic personality was so similar to your fathers and his demi god childrens. You moved into cabin seven with your small backpack of beloved items from your past, picking the bed in the corner farthest away from the few other children of Apollo and spending most of your time in that spot if you weren't at arts and crafts or archery. Not many people cared about you at first, not that you mind while you were trying to process all that happened for you to finally get to this wilderness home. Then you tried to make some friends, which ended with you mostly spending your days with your siblings or the children of Hermes and the campers who lived in that cabin without being claimed.

Then, you met your girlfriend. The love of your life. You're everything. Clarisse.

She had protected you during a game of capture the flag, not realizing that your “attacker” was one of your best friends who simply held his sword up to you in a playful way. You teased her for weeks after that, giving her the title, “my protector”. Although the teasing eventually stopped, the nickname never did.

You’re her sunshine. That’s clear to everyone in camp, but nobody really talks about it for fear of being hurt by her spear.

Capture the flag is one of her favorite days out of the week. Other than every Tuesday when Chiron lets you eat dinner at her table- an agreement that came after a very long week of begging of course. That was his compromise to your ask of being able to spend every night at that table, and Clarisse wasn’t going to push it despite liking the first idea more. 

It became a lot harder to win said game when she started dating you, team red losing one of their best fighters when she would leave her post by the flag to roam the forest and make sure you are okay. It just makes you laugh when she stops kissing you up against a tree to suddenly run back to her post when she remembers the main task at hand, but her siblings and team would definitely disagree that it's funny.

Today's no different, and after threatening her teammate with her spear, she leaves her post to find you with the peace of mind that they’ll protect the flag and won’t tell on her to the other players on team red.

You on the other hand, you have your headphones in, music blasting in them as you dance through the forest and around the trees. Capture the flag has never really been as important to you as your teammates on the blue team, and both Annabeth and Luke eventually learned to give you a simple task and let you do your own thing. 

The nymph's join along in your activities every once in a while, but for the most part they just stay in their tree form as you dance past them.

You’re in your own world with your favorite song playing on your wired headphones that stay connected to the ipod in your hand that your girlfriend gifted to you after she came home from a quest a few months ago. It’s only when someone hits your helmet-covered head with the butt of their sword so hard you pass out that you realize you wandered into the red team's territory.

Waking up, the first thing you notice is the harsh light of the sun glaring down at you. Then it’s the rough feeling of wood on your back and the tight pull of rope on your stomach when you try and fail to stand up from your sitting poston. Your stomach churns as you realize what kind of situation you're in; no help, in a vulnerable position, and no weapon. Lastly, you groan when you realize that your headphones have been taken out of your ears and are laying in a tangled pile a few feet away along with your ipod.

After a few seconds, your vision clears up and the two blobs of color that you saw in front of you turn out to be two people. They’re clearing down at you from their standing positions, one with a sword out and the other holding a dagger.

“Good morning sunshine.” You cringe at the nickname that comes from one of the boys you now recognize from the Aphrodite cabin. It’s the one that your girlfriend uses for you. 

Children of Aphrodite may be well known for her being the goddess of love, and all things pink and pretty, but sometimes people forget she is also a goddess of war. Her demigod children are sweet and nice, but it’s no big surprise why Clarisse likes having them on her team when you see their fighting abilities when they actually try.

“What do you want with me?” You question harshly, trying but eventually giving up on trying to force the ropes to untie by moving your body around. You’re tied to a thin tree, thin enough for your arms to reach behind you and wrap around it- it's kind of like your giving the tree a backwards hug with your hands tied together around it- but not thin enough to break when you push you back up against it to test the theory on if you can snap it. 

They look at eachother and chuckle, putting their weapons away when they realize you can’t get out of your ties. One you recognize as Oliver steps closer to you as he says, “Annabeth and Luke care about you so much, the moment they realize that you’re missing, they’ll forget all about the flag and Clarisse can go get it.”

You stare at them blankly for a few seconds before you burst out laughing. They glance at each other before narrowing their eyes at you.

“What are you laughing at sunshine?” You finish laughing when the ropes pull on your stomach way too tightly with the way your body shakes with the laughter. “You ummm…” You start, taking a deep breath when you find yourself beginning to giggle again. “You thought the most amazing plan…was to lead my overprotective friends and girlfriend…the girl who carries a spear with her everywhere she goes and hurts anyone who looks at her wrong mind you…to the spot where she’ll find her partner tied up to a tree in a clearing where no one is around to stop her from killing you guys?”

They stare at you with a sudden look of fear in their eyes before they walk a few yards away to begin whispering to each other, the confidence from earlier gone and rethinking their plan after you brought the obvious ending to your attention.

“Hey guys?!” You shout out, smiling when they turn around for a second to face you. “Don’t worry. I’ll tell Clarisse not to kill you! She usually listens to me because the last time she killed someone, I didn’t cuddle her for a week!” Their eyes widen at your casualness, as if her killing someone is completely normal in your world before turning back around so you can’t see them panicking. It doesn’t matter though, the way they move their hands erratically and have to take deep breaths from raising their voices in fear is enough knowledge.

They come back a few minutes later, the fear still there as they stand in front of you. You don’t ask what plan they’ve come up with now, and they don’t tell you.

You guys sit in silence for a second before you glance at your earbuds and ask, “Do you guys like jazz tunes?” The boys stare at you with a confused expression.

“Um..…no. Why? Is that what you were listening to?”

“No. It’s just a conversation starter. The quiet was getting kinda awkward.”

The silence is back again, before you begin to quietly hum the tune of the song you were listening to before they interrupted your state of happiness. “So…..did you guys see my amazing dancing?”

Liam chuckles, eyes not meeting yours as he scans the forest around you guys and mumbles, “It wasn’t that good.” Oliver lets out a small hum of agreement. 

You scoff, eyes falling to your legs as you whisper under your breath, “Well damn. I’m definitely letting my girl kill you now.”

Suddenly, a few yards away, there is a loud scream that could make someone's ear eardrums bleed. It isn’t one of fear or sadness, but of anger. The boy’s eyes widen and they begin to spin in circles to try and keep track of the attacker as they pull out their weapons. You just smile.

The sound of someone running is what finally snaps them out of their panic enough to try running away, but she’s already there using the end of her spear to hit one's back so hard he falls forward and pulls the other one of one backwards and throws him on the ground by his armor. 

The first boy she pushes tries to get up and scurry away, but she simply places her foot on his back and presses so down with her boot with enough pressure he looks ready to cry. He really should be wearing armor. 

“Clar! Clar, it’s fine! I’m fine!” You shout when the fear starts to set in that she might actually hurt them, and she doesn’t even seem like she’s listening as she twists her spear in a circle and looks towards the other boy with a grin on her face that you know all too well. She’s going to kill them.

You begin to try and pry your hands out of the rope so hard it begins to shred your skin like paper in hopes of stopping her from doing something she’ll get in so much trouble for, and it’s only when you let out a small whimper of pain does Clarisse stop her actions. The grin falls from her face, and her foot releases the boy as she hurries over to you.

Both boys get up off the dirt, stumbling over their own feet as they begin to run back into the forest to hide from Clarisse. “You touch them again and I’ll kill you in ways even my father couldn’t imagine!” She screams over her shoulder in a terrifying voice, and the way she then turns to you with a sweet smile would be weird to anyone else. It only comforts you.

“I’m so sorry sunshine. I’m so sorry I let them hurt you.” She whispers as she uses the sharpest part of her spear to cut the ropes off. You sigh in relief, bringing them to your lap so you can gently caress them. There are red marks surrounding them, some of which you can already tell are going to bruise and one with a small cut on it from the rope and bark on the tree rubbing on your skin.

Your girlfriend looks guilty, so when she begins to spill even more apologizes you shut her up with a gentle kiss. “It’s okay Clar. I’m okay. It’s my fault. I wasn’t paying attention.” She shakes her head no and you watch with a small smile as she uses the most gentle touch you’ve ever felt to pick up your wrists and assess the injury.

“Really. I’m fine. It’s just some rope burn.” She hums in understanding, bringing them up to her lips one by one to place a feather light kiss on the red spots. “Better?” The curly haired girl asks with a small smile. 

“Much.” She nods, letting out one more apology before she picks you up bridal style and begins to walk back in the direction of camp. It’s only when you make it to the edge of the clearing and the cabins, mess hall, and big house come into view do you realize she’s not taking you back to your team's territory. 

When you go to ask where she’s taking you, but she just shh’s you and takes the trail to the infirmary. In the distance, the conch shell sounds, signaling the end of the game. It’s followed by the familiar cheers of your team, making you feel bad.

“I’m really sorry Clar. I could have walked myself. I’m so sorry” She just shakes her head, walking into the small building that only has about three Apollo children in it, the kids who don’t like to play capture the flag and volunteer to stay in the infirmary in case someone needs medical help. You know them, sending them all bright smiles and they do the same.

She sets you down on a gurney, a quick glare to the boy standing awkwardly a few feet away with a clipboard is all he needs to run over and begin gently cradling your arms to wrap your wrist’s. His name is Jamie, and he’s the quietest out of all of your siblings. Even with his silence, you know he’s an absolute sweetheart after nights spent painting with him or enjoy a walk in the sun together.

“Just take off the bandages to ice them every once and a while, and you should feel fine in a few days.” He mumbles before scurrying off to do something else, but in reality you know he’s just trying to get away from the girl who now stands at the edge of your bed like a guard. My protector.

You stand up, slowly walking towards her and wrapping your arms around the back of her neck. “You know, your siblings are beginning to despise me for being the reason you guys are losing.”

She shrugs, a small smile making its way onto her face. “Let them. They ever talk shit, you come to me. I’ll deal with it. Until then, they can despise you in silence. I’m just happy you’re okay sunshine.”

“Thanks to you. My protector.” With that she chuckles, leaning down to kiss you as your arms tighten around her.

“But I’m definitely getting Chiron to change the Apollo cabin to our team.”

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson series #clarisse la rue x you #ares god of war #once again i don't know how to write endings

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Ann Sheridan (I Was a War Male Bride, City for Conquest, The Man Who Came to Dinner)—she was called 'the oomph girl' and i think that deserves a vote

Marlene Dietrich (Shanghai Express, Witness for the Prosecution, Morocco)—its marlene dietrich!!!! queer legend, easily the hottest person to ever wear a tuxedo, that hot hot voice, those glamorous glamorous movies.... most famously she starred in a string of movies directed by josef von sternberg throughout the 1930s, beginning with the blue angel which catapulted her to stardom in the role of the cabaret singer lola lola. known for his exquisite eye for lighting, texture, imagery, von sternberg devoted himself over the course of their collaborations to acquiring exceptional skill at photographing dietrich herself in particular, a worthy direction in which to expend effort im sure we can all agree. she collaborated with many other great directors of the era as well, including rouben mamoulian (song of songs), frank borzage (desire), ernst lubitsch (angel), fritz lang (rancho notorious), and billy wilder (witness for the prosecution). the encyclopedia britannica entry im looking at while compiling this propaganda describes her as having an “aura of sophistication and languid sexuality” which✔️💯. born marie magdalene dietrich, she combined her first and middle names to coin the moniker “marlene”. she was a trendsetter in her incorporation of trousers, suits, and menswear into her wardrobe and her androgynous allure was often remarked upon. critic kenneth tynan wrote, “She has sex, but no particular gender. She has the bearing of a man; the characters she plays love power and wear trousers. Her masculinity appeals to women and her sexuality to men.” in the 1920s she enjoyed the vibrant queer nightlife of weimar berlin, visiting gay bars and drag balls, and in hollywood her love affairs with men and women were an open secret. she was an ardent opponent of nazi germany, refusing lucrative contacts offered her to make films there, raising money with billy wilder to help jews and dissidents escape, and undertaking extensive USO tours to entertain soldiers with an act that included her a playing musical saw and doing a mindreading routine she learned from orson welles. starting in the 50s and continuing into the mid-70s she worked largely as a cabaret artist touring the world to large audiences, employing burt bacharach as her musical arranger.

This is round 1 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

"ms dietrich....ms dietrich pls.....sit on my face"

"First of all, there are those publicity photos of her in a tux. Second of all, I have never been the same since knowing that she sent copies of those photos to her Berlin lovers signed "Daddy Marlene." Not only is she hot in all circumstances, but she can do everything from earthy to ice queen. Also, she kept getting sexy romantic lead parts in Hollywood after the age of 40, which would be rare even now. She hated Nazis, loved her friends, and had a sapphic social circle in Hollywood. She also had cheekbones that could cut glass and a voice that could melt you."

"Did a bunch of humanitarian work during ww2, pretty sure a shot of her from Shanghai express was the inspiration for one of queens album covers and also her in the suit in Morocco (1930) CHANGED LIVES. I’m sure she’s already been submitted but I wanted an opportunity to submit one of my favourite pictures of her for the poll"

Bisexual icon, super hot when dressed both masculine and feminine, lived up her life in the queer Berlin scene of the 1920s, central to the 'sewing circle' of the secret sapphic actresses of Old Hollywood, refused lucrative offers by the Nazis and helped Jews and others under persecution to escape Nazi Germany, the love of my life

Her GENDER her looks her voice her everything

“In her films and record-breaking cabaret performances, Miss Dietrich artfully projected cool sophistication, self-mockery and infinite experience. Her sexuality was audacious, her wit was insolent and her manner was ageless. With a world-weary charm and a diaphanous gown showing off her celebrated legs, she was the quintessential cabaret entertainer of Weimar-era Germany.”

"The bar scene in Morocco awoke something in me and ultimately changed my gender"

"Her manner, the critic Kenneth Tynan wrote, was that of ‘a serpentine lasso whereby her voice casually winds itself around our most vulnerable fantasies.’ Her friend Maurice Chevalier said: ‘Dietrich is something that never existed before and may never exist again.’”

"Songstress, photographer, fashion icon, out bisexual phenom (notoriously stole Lupe Velez and Joan Crawford's men, and Errol Flynn's wife, had a torrid affair with Greta Garbo that ended in a 60-year feud, other notable conquests including Erich Maria Remarque -yes, the guy who wrote All Quiet on the Western Front- Douglas Fairbanks Junior, Claudette Colbert, Mercedes de Acosta, Edith Piaf), anti-Nazi activist. Marlene was a bitch - she had an open marriage for decades and one of her favorite things was making catty commentary about her current lover with her husband, and her relationship with her daughter was painful- but she was also immensely talented, a hard worker, an opponent of fascism and the hottest ice queen in Hollywood for a long time."

"She can sing! She can act! She told the Nazis to fuck off and became a US citizen out of spite! She worked with other German exiles to create a fund to help Jews and German dissidents escape (she donated an entire movie salary, about $450k, to the cause). She looks REALLY GOOD in a suit. If you're not convinced, please listen to her sing "Lili Marlene". Absolutely gorgeous woman with a gorgeous voice."

Gifset link

"Bisexual icon and Nazi-hater. Looks absolutely stunning in the suits she liked to wear. 'I dress for the image. Not for myself, not for the public, not for fashion, not for men'."

"would you not let her walk on you?"

#marlene dietrich #ann sheridan #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 1

[camille-lachenille]

It was a rainy day, when Huan walked out of the Halls of Mandos, soft mud sticking to his paws as he walked toward the woods in the distance. The smells and noises were familiar despite all the time that had passed, and Huan happily sniffed at trees and stones to try catch an interesting trail. The pattering of rain on the dense canopy over him almost covered the twittering of birds but Huan could still catch glimpses of their gossip, and he wagged his tail. It wasn’t much but he had a trail to follow now.

Valinor was unchanged, yet vastly different from what Huan remembered. As he ran across woods and plains, he saw new towns and lush fields where there was only wilderness before. He mourned this loss, but he had a goal to reach so he did not pause except for the briefest rest. Always, he followed the chattering of birds, the whispers of the wind and the thread calling to him.

Huan ran and ran, revelling in the feeling if earth under his paws and wind messing with his fur. He had missed being alive, this abundance of sounds and smells; rustling leaves, foxes calls, thunderstorms and bird songs, deer fleeing in the woods, freshly cooked food, dewy grass in the morning and so much more.

At least, Huan picked up the trail he had been searching for as he followed the birds, this unmistakeable scent that meant friend tough diluted in seawater, kelp and bird, with a hint of sadness. The trail led him to a lone tower at the edge of the world, wrapped in ribbons of mist. Huan ran up to the door and shook his fur from rain and dust before barking happily, his tail wagging faster than ever.

It took some time but, at last, the door opened on a small figure clad in white. Huan immediately flopped down, belly up and tongue lolling out, and looked up at the woman. She stood very still in the doorframe, a hand pressed to her mouth and her eyes very wide, like a rabbit caught. After a long moment she moved, as if in a daze, and presented her open hand to Huan. He sniffled it, revelling in the scent of friend, before licking the woman’s palm. She laughed at that, a small startled giggle, but her stance was now much more relaxed as she knelt beside him.

“So you really are the dog from the tale of Grandmother Lúthien,” she said with wonder in her voice. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Huan. I am Elwing.”

Huan let out a soft boof and licked Elwing’s hand once more. This time, her laughter was just a little louder, and she sank her hands in his fur to rub his belly. He could not speak in this new life, not that he had much to say that could not be expressed with other means, but in this moment Huan wished he was able to tell Elwing he was her friend forever.

Elwing stood up after a while and wrapped her shawl more tightly around her shoulders. “Do come in, you must be famished after your journey,” she invited with a small smile. “Truth be told, I expected you to look much more fearsome, not that I complain about your friendliness. But tales tend to make everyone look grander and more awe inspiring than real…” her voice trailed off and there was a feeling of sadness surrounding Elwing. Huan carefully nudged her shoulder with his nose and, when Elwing turned to look at him, licked her face playfully. Her shriek was one he knew well, part surprise, part laughter. Lúthien had reacted the exact same way he had done this trick to her. Tyelkormo would only laugh and muss the fur on his nose, but that was even longer ago.

Elwing’s tower was a nice place to live in. Isolated enough that it was surrounded by wilderness and the inside large enough to accommodate Huan’s size without too many broken vases and chairs. At night he slept on the hearth rug and he would often be joined by Elwing when sleep eluded her. She would tell him tales of her life, in Beleriand and here in Valinor, and what memories she had of her father and brothers, tough only rarely for it made her cry.

“I am glad to have you here with me, my friend,” Elwing whispered in his neck one night. Huan nuzzled her hair in answer as she fell asleep curled against him. I will always be at your side, friend.

#elwing desserves all the love and frirndship ever #also this is a firm headcanon of mine that huan eould seek lúthien’s descendents after being reembodied #maybe he will forgive celegorm for his deed with time #but i can’t see it happening anytime soon #besides celegorm isn’t reebodied yet #so it’s just elwing and husn being besties #and eärendil nearly having a heart attack when he comes home at last to find his wife with a dog taller than her #tolkien #the silmarillion #tolkien fic #huan #elwing

[bg-brainrot]

Hugs for a Vampire (Astarion x GN!Reader) - Chapter 18: At Withers' Party

Bonus Hug - Chapter 18: At Withers' Party

Each chapter can be read as a standalone hug.

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Reader (Rogue!Tav)

Genre: Fluffy, Filling in Canon

Rating: Teen

Tags: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, post-game, epilogue, cw: alcohol, jealousy

WC: 2.1k words, 18/18 chapters

Summary: An epilogue hug! Astarion sees Rogue!Tav giving out hugs and wants one of his own.

Author's Note: This was not part of the original fic, added on after the epilogue was released, however I chose to put my own spin on the epilogue hug.

Finally, Whether you read this fic AO3, on Tumblr, or a combo of both, thanks so much for joining the hugfest! I love this vampire man, and may he have many, many more hugs <3

Ao3 | [Hug17] | Hugs for a Vampire Masterlist

It’s been six months since your victory at Baldur’s Gate.

Six months of traveling through the Underdark with Astarion, establishing a base for the vampire spawn, and figuring out your next steps together. It was perilous and difficult work, but you wouldn’t change a single thing. 

You have missed your former companions dearly though, so when you received the invitation from Withers for a celebration, the smile that broke across your face could blind a celestial. I wouldn’t miss this for anything – not even a fresh new apocalypse, you wrote back.

So that’s how you and Astarion have found yourselves above ground once again, the familiar wilderness of the Sword Coast a welcome sight, the distinguished company an even more welcome one.

Everyone seems to be doing quite well, despite how you all left each other. Lae’zel is only able to visit through a projection, and the reprieve is rather temporary for a few of your companions– namely Wyll and Karlach– However, it’s a rare opportunity and you’re incredibly grateful to have it.

The elation must be obvious on your face, as Astarion takes one look at you and laughs. His sing-song little giggle never fails to bring a smile to your face, and right now your face is liable to crack open. “Go on, dear,” he says, sensing the eager tension in your body. “Mingle! If you need me, I shall be near the wine.”

“You can mingle too, you know,” you say, though you’ve already begun to walk away.

“Invite me again after a few bottles,” he responds. You know he loves them all in his own way, but he also finds them to be a bit too much at times. Ever the stray cat, he’ll find his way to them when he’s ready, at least you hope. So you nod to him in agreement and wander off to chat with your dearest friends.

You’re so excited to see them all again that you’re practically jogging to meet them. 

Shadowheart is the first. When you get a good look at her, you see a peace in her face that you haven’t seen in any of the months you’ve known her. Something about it brings you relief. You knew they would each find their happiness without you, but seeing it firsthand is something else. Perhaps it’s because she’s looking so much more herself than ever, but before long you find yourself asking, “Could I have a hug?” The hug is caring and welcoming and everything you knew Shadowheart has always been.

Next you make your way to Karlach. She’s alive and well, which is ten times better than the last time you saw her, and you just might cry from the sight. She tells you about Avernus and about the possibility to fix her heart and you just might cry from that as well. Again, you can’t resist, especially knowing she’s been fighting for her life for six months. “Could I have a hug?” The hug is warm and strong, just like the woman in your arms.

After that, you make your way to Wyll. He’s doing rather well in Avernus with Karlach, and, when he mentions that he’s planning to ensure Karlach finds a solution to her heart, a few tears well in your eyes. Wyll is among the best of mortal and immortal men, and you’re glad he went with Karlach when you couldn’t. The grateful feeling is more than you can put into words, so you ask, “Could I have a hug?” The hug is strong and bracing and an absolute testament to Wyll’s enduring friendship.

You find your way to Lae’zel. After learning of her diligent efforts to save her people from Vlaakith, you can’t help but be awestruck by how much she’s changed. You’re inspired by her ability to learn to fight with words and stunned by how much she truly misses you. Even though she’s not there, you can’t help yourself, “Could I have a hug?” She simply clicks her tongue at you and calls you an idiot, somehow melting your heart all the same.

Eventually, you find Gale, tucked away with the tressym Tara. He’s a teacher and no longer at risk of exploding – you can’t help laughing at that, remembering the various times he almost blew you all up without the help of an all-powerful orb. Something about the way he speaks of his new role and invites you to visit, either to teach or just to spend time, makes you realize that this is what a happy wizard looks like. You love it and ask, “Could I have a hug?” The hug is all-encompassing and lengthy, much like one of Gale’s lessons in magic.

Finally, you find Halsin, dancing the night away. When you learn more about his endeavors, you find that he’s reestablishing the settlement at Reithwin, reconnecting the land to its people. He mentions that Thaniel and Oliver are no longer lonely and that the children of the settlement bring him a fulfillment he never thought possible. After regaling him of an exaggerated tale of your and Astarion’s adventures, you assure him that the two of you will visit soon to tell more. “Could I have a hug?” The hug is surprisingly gentle and comforting, and you walk away feeling quite content.

You determine that you’ll need to ask the rest, even Withers, for hugs if they’ll all be this enjoyable. But before you do that, you decide to take a moment to yourself, to process everything.

That’s how you find your way to a quiet corner, head spinning with warm, fuzzy feelings and maybe a smidge too much wine. Just being here, surrounded by some of the best people you’ve ever had the privilege to encounter, fills you with a companionship you weren’t aware you’d been missing. Astarion fills you with so much love and happiness, but this– this is different.

As if summoned with your thoughts, the vampire walks toward you, wine glass in hand. "Are you done mingling?" Sensing your mind is elsewhere, he leans closer, inspecting your glassy, faraway gaze. His hand lands on the small of your back, jolting your attention back to the present and you turn to look at him. His eyes sparkle at you with radiant joy and a hint of something else. Could that be annoyance?

You decide to focus on the joy. "Yes, I think I've managed to get good conversations out of everyone. Did you know Gale wants me to go teach at Waterdeep?" Your voice sounds incredulous, after all, you warned him: once a rogue, always a rogue. Unless he wants his students to learn how to stab more efficiently, he would do best to seek someone else.

Astarion clearly agrees, making an exaggerated, aghast expression. "You? A teacher?" He shudders in fake-fear. "My love, I pity the poor students who would be subjected to your methods."

“Hey,” you say, shooting him a glare. “I thought you were supposed to be the supportive one!”

He laughs and shakes his head. “I can only support so much, my dear.” Then he takes a long look at you, noticing how unfocused your eyes are, the flush to your face. “And from the looks of it, I may need to support your entire body before the night is over.”

You only grin at him and say, “What did I do to deserve such a caring man?”

“Yes, yes,” he says, rubbing gentle circles along your back. “Likely whatever you did to deserve the affections of every adventurer this side of the Chionthar.” His tone is joking, but the dark look on his face says otherwise.

Pushing aside your own amusement, you pull his hand from your back and lean into him. “Okay, what's the matter, love?”

“Oh nothing. I just thought my jealous days were behind me.” He sounds sullen, and you note a sad tilt to his eyebrows.

Jealous days? You groan, recalling his concern over the fiery barbarian. “Love, really truly, if I were leaving you for Karlach, I would have gone to Avernus months ago.”

He waves his wine glass at you dismissively. “I know that, and I don’t mean Karlach, contrary to all evidence thus far.” Suddenly avoiding your gaze, he takes a sip of wine and changes the subject. “No matter, let’s go ask Withers where he found this vintage.” 

“No, no, no,” you say, tugging him back to you before he can walk off. After another six months together, getting used to each other’s idiosyncrasies outside of mortal peril (mostly out of mortal peril), you knew the escape was only a ruse. He wants to talk, but he seems too embarrassed to begin. “You’re allowed to be jealous, Astarion. But I can’t help you if you don’t tell me why.”

Astarion stops in his tracks, looking back at you with a pair of vulnerable red eyes. “Do you promise not to laugh?”

You take a beat to debate this, but ultimately honesty wins over and you shake your head. “I wish I could, but I do promise to try my best?”

A sigh escapes him, and you’re graced with a soft, reluctant smile. “Typical. You were truthful though, so I shall be too. I was rather jealous of…” He wipes a hand over his face dramatically. “I was jealous that you’ve gone and hugged everyone else. Gods, I sound like a child.”

It’s a good thing you only promised to try your best because an involuntary huff leaves your lips, which you'd firmly pressed together in preparation. "That is…" you gasp out.

"Idiotic? Pathetic?" Astarion supplies.

"Rather adorable actually," you say, finally allowing a snort out. “How do you always manage to be both adorable and sexy?”

You swear you can see the tips of his ears color pink, but that may just be the firelight or your own tipsy vision. He only says, “I’m quite talented.”

“Would a hug help you feel better?”

Astarion looks at you, eyes darting between yours. You can see a bit of hesitation in them, and you’re wondering why when he says, “Only if it’s not a pity hug.”

“Never,” you say, solemnly. “You know I only give hugs I mean.”

He clicks his tongue, annoyed again. He places his wine glass down on the ground with a flourish, as if preparing himself. “Yes, exactly. Which is why I’ve gone and become jealous. This is all your fault and I expect you to remedy it.”

You nod, accepting this burden with ease. “In that case… Could I hug you?” Astarion waves his hand at you as if to say, get on with it already, and you dive right in. 

The hug is loving, it’s understanding and supportive. It warms you, it cools you, and it makes you want to tackle this man to the ground in an aggressive affection– a feeling you only barely temper after a few glasses of wine. After experiencing so many hugs tonight, you find that the hug is so very perfectly him.

No, not just him. It’s the type of hug that the both of you make together. And it’s the hug you want to experience again and again for the rest of your life.

When you finally pull away from him, Astarion is smiling once more, jealousy evidently placated. “Well now, I have you every night, don’t I? Go on then, continue to bless them with your presence. I’ll be here when you’re ready. I’ll always be here, my love.”

You shake your head at him. “A lovely sentiment, of course, but you’re done hiding. Come on.”

“What?” he asks, brows furrowing as he tilts away from you.

“I said, you’re done hiding. No more shadows, they all keep asking about you and I’d rather you answer them yourself,” you say, all but dragging him back to the party now. “They miss you too, you know.”

“Darling, please. What if they ask me for a hug?” Astarion looks truly appalled at the thought.

You laugh, imagining him reacting like a cat forced into a bathtub. “You can say no, of course. But I promise not to get too jealous if you do.”

“What will it take for you to forget I ever said that?” he says, laughing and allowing himself to be dragged.

You quickly swipe his wine glass back up off the ground as you pull him along, and take a long drink before returning it to him. You only say, “At least two more bottles, though I suppose that depends on how wild Withers likes his parties.”

Hand-in-hand, you both walk off to enjoy the rest of the celebration. The night is young, the wine is flowing, and there are still many more hugs to be shared.

#astarion #astarion x tav #fanfic #astarion fic #astarion x reader #rogue + rogue #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion fluff #astarion masterlist #hugs for a vampire #hfav #gn reader #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #astarion baldurs gate #bg3 astarion

[parsnippety]

Cecilia

Sounds are powerful. That goes without saying- the most severe (?) sounds you'll find your average sentient species making are soft clicks/rumbles. Most languages developed through touch, or something like sign language. The species that can make noise don't have much control over their pitch. They don't need to. Others "hear" with specialized pads, designed to pick up the slightest vibration... (Don't ever touch them, you hear?) Anyway-

You know how the human voice can literally break glass? Yeah, so do the higher-ups in any organization that knows what they're doing. In the Rhusngi's Immigration fleet, crews are chosen through a complex AI system. Applications take Jovian aeons to process- But this ain't Rhusngi Immigration.

There's no one name for what we are. A bunch of idiots, taking random jobs here and there- wait, what? No, we're not- We just do deliveries! *unintelligible alien muttering* Sure, it can be dangerous, but we're not stupid. Our crews communicate, for Dsheng's sake.

I understand your concern- Ship 7 does have a more, er, potent blend of species... they balance each other out- The two humans? Hhhhhhharmless. *xe hisses, frustrated.*

｡.:*☆*: .｡:*.:*☆☆*

"Aaaaaalright, Bumblebees! Another day, another dollar! Everybody, up, up, up!"

Kit's voice crackled with enthusiasm and static. It reverberated through the black-and-yellow ship, signaling the start of another shift. Most of us had been on board for "decades"- that's what Faizan says, at least. We've gotten used to each other by now, what with all of us being so... different.

It's been a few months since we picked up Kit and, erm... There have been some difficulties, sure, but yeah. It's made us closer, if anything. -Besides, now it's even. Seventh ship, seven crew members! Faizan chimes in, startling the mantis-like being. She promptly donks him upside the head with one blade-like arm.

He chuckles, then looks her in the eye- or tries to. "We just got some new cargo. Needs scanning." He holds a small device up to his mouth and speaks into it, making a series of clicks. He presses a button, adding- "Kit, you too- be at the loading deck in 5."

☆☆

Pretty soon, most of the crew joined Needih (insectoid), Faizan (human), and the new cargo. Kit (also human) was late- as per usual. But eh, she's on time when it really matters...

The cargo wasn't particularly large today, nor moving- thank God. "...And it's our turn to scan it in, got it?" Faizan lectured the younger human as he carried a box across the room. The two got to work, moving packages from the hatch as the rest of the crew chattered away.

Kit laughed when he stopped talking-

"You know you're breaking my heart..."

Faizan stopped in his tracks, a smirk on his face.

"You're shaking my confidence, daily." He replied.

--Here's a link for y'all--

He didn't know what he expected- The song was old. Really old. And Kit had never even set foot on Earth...

Kit started tapping the side of the box and stomped to a rhythm Faizan hadn't heard in forever-

"...'Celia... you're breaking my heart..."

Faizan's eyes lit up. Of course Kit sang the higher part, and of course he knew the lower one.

"You're shaking my confidence daily!"

Needih was in awe. She felt her shell shake with the vibration- it was impossible to describe. Sometimes, on her home planet, wilder sounds would align- but that was incredibly rare. Almost mythical. The crew all "heard" in different ways. We're lucky 'cause they're similar enough to communicate...

"... I'm beggin' you please to come home!"

Jaws dropped. Scrounge and Sdaer put down their drinks, eyes wide. Scrounge let out a deep rumble and tilted his ursine head. Faizan rolled his eyes and kept singing- the crew had never seen him like this...

The two humans sang like nobody else was in the room. They felt a sense of belonging, of harmony, like nothing else in the universe.

For the first time in years, Faizan dropped the package. He and Kit tapped out a beat on every available surface- the walls, the floor, even the boxes. And they laughed. It scared the hell out of the rest of the crew, who were too stunned to do anything but stare.

Goodness knows how Kit was able to sense Faizan's movements before they happened- and vice versa. Sure, they both missed a beat here and there but what did you expect? They're only human.

"Pick it up, pick it up, pick it up!" He exclaimed, conveniently skipping to the good part. Kit grinned.

☆☆

"God, I haven't sang in years..." Faizan paused and looked around the room. The crew was just. In shock.

"To, skh..." Sdaer struggled with the English. "To quote you, what the fUCK was THAT?"

"That was harmony." Kit said with a smile. And the humans just? Got back to work? Kit hummed softly, and Faizan smiled (without baring his teeth, to be polite- as if he and the newbie didn't just break goodness-knows-how-many-galaxies' regulations).

"How do you know Simon & Garfunkel, anyway?" the captain asked.

Kit looked down at the box they were holding. "...Does it matter?"

"No. No, it doesn't."

#humans are space australians #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #humans and aliens #short story #i'm gonna make a whole series out of this... maybe #just you wait #if this has been done before lmk pls #found family #what should i call this? #to be continued

[say-al0e]

Crash

Rating: M | This is smut, no one under 18. Minors, DNI!

Summary: Literally just giving Bradley head in the Bronco, on the beach. That’s it. That’s the plot. | Ft. “Breathe through your nose,” requested by anon.

Warnings: Exhibitionism, blink and you’ll miss it mention of anxiety/adjusting to life in California post TGM, male receiving head. (I think that’s it? Anything else, tell me and I’ll tag it.)

Pairing: Rooster x fem!Reader (I think girl is used once or twice?)

Word Count: 2.2k

Top Gun Taglist | Top Gun Masterlist

The late afternoon sunlight cast a golden hue over the empty stretch of beach. It was rare to have the place to yourselves, alone without a mass of people scattered about, but you were grateful for the relative quiet. The only sound to be heard was the crashing of waves, breaking against the shoreline, and the low hum of some soft rock song on the radio.

A soft breeze blew through the Bronco, warm sea air filling your nose as you relaxed, and you swore there’d never been a more perfect moment. It was easy to get lost in the beauty of your new home, in the sun and the sand and the warmth of it all, and you reveled in the peace as you leaned into Bradley’s side.

Warm fingers, calloused from years of baseball and work, brushed at the exposed skin of your arm. The weight of his arm around your shoulders, anchoring you to the moment at hand, was a comfort you would never tire of. He radiated warmth, always a few degrees hotter than the average, and though you’d worried it would be too much in the California heat, you found yourself seeking it out as a gust of sea air blew.

As Bradley pulled you closer, slid you across the seat and tucked you into his side, you took a moment to study him.

Bradley looked beautiful in the golden light, warm and soft and utterly breathtaking. The west coast sun had done him good, gave his skin a glow that had yet to fade and seemed to set him at ease in a way Virginia hadn’t been able to, and you made no effort to hide your awe as you studied him.

The moment the sun began to sink lower, he’d tucked his aviators into the collar of his undershirt. Soft brown eyes glittered in the sunlight, held nothing but a hard-earned contentment as he watched the waves crash onto shore, and you couldn’t help yourself as you reached out for him.

With a soft smile, you lifted your hand and gently traced the curve of his jaw, the few silvery scars that marred his skin. A barely there twitch of the corner of his mouth was the only indication he gave that he noticed and you bit back a laugh as your thumb brushed along the edges of his mustache.

Though the new assignment had been an adjustment - packing up your lives and moving across the country, Bradley getting used to working as an instructor and teaching students who seemed to have more in common with Hangman than with him, building a new routine - it was one that seemed to suit him. The set of his shoulders was more relaxed, the light had returned to his eyes, and he looked truly content.

It was truly a sight to behold, a wonder that reminded you just why you fell so hard in love with Bradley, and sent a pang of warmth spreading throughout your limbs. Something low simmered in the pit of your stomach, a desire to remind him just how much you love him, and you grinned as you brushed at the corner of his mouth. 

“Roo?” The call of his name broke the delicate silence, sounded over the soft sound of crashing waves, but in no way felt unwelcome as he tipped his head to glance at you. When he pressed a soft kiss to your palm before smiling, gaze soft and so reverent it made your heart ache, you felt yourself melt further into his embrace as the warmth only grew more intense. “Can we break a rule?”

The jab was soft, poking gentle fun at his rule following nature - though, you’d gotten to see him break more rules than most, had gotten to see the wilder side of Bradley Bradshaw that others assumed didn’t exist - and he rolled his eyes fondly but laughed anyway. “What’d you have in mind?”

Instead of answering aloud, you shot him a saccharine smile and continued to brush your fingers across his sun-warmed skin. You trailed slowly along the curve of his jaw, down the column of his throat, and bit the inside of your cheek as you felt him swallow. Goosebumps began to erupt across his skin, despite the temperature, and you felt a sudden rush of pride at your ability to fluster the beautiful man before you as you continued your descent.

As your fingers trailed down his torso, stopping only to trace the band of his jeans and circle the button, Bradley inhaled sharply. He knew where this was going and a peek from beneath your lashes confirmed he’d taken a quick glance around, just to be certain no one was around. “Honey,” he began, voice low, “are you sure?”

This wouldn’t be the first time you’d done something of the sort. Back in Virginia, when the beaches closed for winter and tourists took a few months off, you’d fulfilled a few of your shared fantasies. Bradley wasn’t keen on the idea of getting caught - not when he knew the risks - but he had a bit of an exhibitionist streak. It was a quick shot of adrenaline, not quite the same rush as flying but close enough, and you’d grown to enjoy it, too.

Though there was an elevated risk - a handful of cars had come and gone, spending a few moments on the beach and shattering your illusion of privacy - and though your home was only a short drive away, you wanted to sink into the moment. Bradley had never looked more beautiful and was a giver by nature, generous and loving almost to a fault, so you found it only fair to give him something in return.

“I’m sure,” you assured him with a smile. When he pressed his fingers beneath your chin and tipped your head to look you in the eye, you batted your lashes at him. “Just wanna make you feel good.”

Bradley swallowed, eyed you as you shifted closer and trailed your hand to his thigh, and laughed quietly. “You always do, honey,” he promised as he allowed his hand to fall to his lap. He spared another glance at the deserted parking lot, at the beach devoid of any others, and dragged his tongue along his bottom lip. “We have to be quick,” he reminded you, brows furrowing as he hated to be demanding, especially in a moment like this. “Don’t wanna get caught.”

“I know. We’ve done this before,” you reminded him with a grin. A quiet laugh escaped him, acknowledging the truth in your statement. “Just relax, babe,” you urged, fingers gliding over the button of his jeans.

With a deep breath, Bradley sank back into his seat and shifted. His legs spread a touch wider, enough to accommodate the growing bulge in his jeans, as he removed his arm from your shoulders to give you a little more room to work. The moment he released you, you twisted in your seat to get a little more comfortable - as comfortable as you could, given the circumstances - and shot him a grin.

Though you were short on time, you still took a moment to drag your hands along his thighs, allowing your nails to rake over the denim in the same way they often did when you were given the opportunity to worship his bare thighs. Another quiet laugh, this one a little more confident - not exactly smug, but as close as Bradley ever seemed to get - drew your attention. When you glanced at him from beneath your lashes, Bradley lifted a hand to cup your cheek. 

“You can ride my thigh when we get home, honey,” he promised, lips curving into a smirk as you sighed at the thought and leaned into his touch.

“Don’t try to bribe me into rushing, Bradshaw,” you teased after a moment’s pause to regain your composure. “I will hold you to that, though.”

As your fingers returned to the button of his jeans, popping them open and reaching for the zipper, Bradley laughed. “Bribe? I would never,” he declared, amusement lightening his eyes as he cradled your jaw. “But I’m counting on you holding me to it. You look so perfect falling apart on my thigh.”

The warmth that had been simmering in the pit of your stomach spread throughout your limbs, burning out of control, and you pressed your thighs together in search of a moment of friction as you tugged Bradley’s jeans down just enough to free his cock from the denim. “Flattery will get you everywhere, babe.”

Before he could retort, some witty quip about being exactly where he wanted, you leaned in and traced the vein running along the underside of his cock. The words died on the tip of his tongue, lost to the crashing of waves, as his hand shifted from your jaw to the back of your head.

Bradley made no effort to control your movement - he rarely did - but you melted under the weight of his touch all the same. The angle wasn’t the most comfortable but you’d learned how best to deal with it and shifted just enough to make breathing a little easier as you wrapped your hand around the base of his cock.

A plea for urgency was on the tip of his tongue, you knew him well enough to feel the tension in his his thighs and the way his fingers flexed, so you took mercy on him. You wrapped your lips around the tip and swirled your tongue, lapping at the precum beading there. 

“Fuck.” Bradley’s sharp exhale carried over the breeze, filled your ears and spurred you on as you slowly took more of him. Though you had only just begun touching him, he sounded well on his way to wrecked, desperate and eager for more. “Feels so good, honey.”

His praise shot straight to your core, had you shifting in your seat in search of relief, and the thought of slipping your free hand between your thighs crossed your mind, only briefly. You knew that it would only distract him, encourage him to pull you onto his lap and make a mess of you both before you made your way home, and you wanted to focus on him, if only for a moment.

Refraining was difficult, but you poured your focus into Bradley.

In the beginning, taking the entirety of his length was difficult - a skill that had to be learned through practice, though you couldn’t complain as Bradley always reciprocated - but it had gotten easier. You pulled away for a moment, took a deep breath, before slowly taking him all.

Bradley swore lowly, a deep exhale that was accompanied by a flex of the hand at the back of your head, and you reached to tap the back of it - a signal that gave him permission to guide your head as he saw fit. “Breathe through your nose, honey,” he reminded you, voice rough and low with lust, “just like that. Fuck, take me so well.”

The hand he used to guide your movements was gentle, never pushing too far as you began to slowly bob your head. You listened to his advice, breathing through your nose and attempting to calm your gag reflex, as you glanced up at him from beneath your lashes.

Though you often imagined he couldn’t get more beautiful, Bradley looked otherworldly in the throes of passion. A crimson flush began at his cheeks and spread down his throat, disappeared beneath the collar of his undershirt, and his typically warm eyes were dark with lust. His chest heaved gently, rising and falling with each shaking breath, and his lips parted with low noises of pleasure.

A combination of the pleasure and adrenaline - the rush of being in public, in the Bronco with little to hide you from prying eyes - had Bradley on edge far quicker than usual but you knew that, in this case, he didn’t exactly mind. Instead, he used the gentle hand on your head to guide you just a touch faster, to take him just a bit deeper, as he chased his high.

The tension in his thighs, the way his fingers pressed into the material of the seat, the weight of his hand pressing against your head all told you that he was close. You doubled down your efforts and hollowed out your cheeks, seeking to push him over the edge.

Bradley came with a low curse, words spilling from his lips and melding with the sounds of the beach around you, and you eagerly swallowed all he had to give. He took a moment to ride out the aftershocks, milking his cock completely in the warmth of your mouth, before gently pulling you away.

With a teasing grin, you pressed a final kiss to his hip before sitting up and batted your lashes at him. “You good, Roo?”

“More than,” he promised as he quickly slipped himself back into his jeans without bothering to button them. “Let’s go home,” he urged, voice rough with lust and still a touch breathless. “I can’t wait to watch you fall apart for me, honey.”

The promise in his voice was more than enough to have you on edge, eager and ready for what awaited you, and you knew that whatever he had in store was more than worth the risk you took.

________________________________________________________________

Author’s Note: This scene, specifically (the one from the gif) inspired this. I’m so upset about that scene. He looks too good. Anyway. Happy New Year.

Taglist: @lulu-noodles​, @holachicos, @getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth​, @withakindheartx​, @ssprayberrythings​, @verin93, @totalwitch2, @malindacath​, @alexparkxr​, @hangmandruigandmav​, @alexxavicry​, @calicokel, @jaymum​, @dracosluvbot​, @little-wiseone​, @specialk6802, @mandylove1000​, @xlynnx07, @julesclues​, @archetypesoflife​, @oliviah-25​, @benhardysdrumstick​, @caatheeriinee07​, @prettymucheveryothernamewastaken, @yvespoems​, @chloereidwayne​

#rooster x reader #rooster smut #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw smut #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster x y/n #top gun one shot #top gun smut #top gun maverick imagine #top gun maverick smut #top gun maverick x reader #v's fics

[inmyfxith]

SFW Alphabet - Lo'ak

A/N -> This template isn't mine, I don't remember where I found it so if it's yours don't hesitate to tell me so I can credit you.

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

Lo'ak absolutely adores his partner's strength and determination. He admires their ability to overcome challenges and their unwavering dedication to their passions and goals. He also admires their kindness and compassion, and the way they always put others before themselves.

B = Body (what is their favorite part of your body?)

His favorite part of his partner's body is their beautiful eyes, which always seem to sparkle with kindness and warmth.

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

Lo'ak likes to cuddle with his partner by snuggling up close and wrapping his arms around them, feeling a sense of warmth and comfort in their embrace.

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

Lo'ak's ideal date with his partner would involve a long hike through the Pandoran wilderness, followed by a picnic under the stars. They would spend hours talking and learning from each other, and maybe even try to catch a glimpse of some of the local wildlife.

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

Lo'ak is not one to express his emotions overtly, but he shows his love for his partner through his actions and by being there for them whenever they need him. He is also very attentive to their needs and tries to make them feel loved and appreciated.

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

Lo'ak wants to start a family with his partner someday, and envisions having a few children and raising them to be curious and independent, just like him.

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

Lo'ak is a thoughtful and generous gift giver, and loves to surprise his partner with small tokens of his affection. He is not one for grand gestures or extravagant gifts, but he is always on the lookout for something that he knows his partner will love and appreciate.

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

Lo'ak likes to hold hands with his partner whenever they are out and about, feeling a sense of connection and support between them.

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

If his partner were to get hurt, Lo'ak would be fiercely protective of them and would do everything in his power to help them heal and recover.

J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?)

He is a bit of a practical joker, and loves to play little pranks on his partner to make them laugh.

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

Lo'ak is a gentle and affectionate kisser, and loves to show his love for his partner through tender and passionate kisses.

L = Love (how do they show you they love you?)

Lo'ak shows his love for his partner through his actions and by being there for them whenever they need him. He is also very attentive to their needs and tries to make them feel loved and appreciated.

M = Memory (favorite memory together?)

Lo'ak's favorite memory with his partner is the day they went on their first hike together, when they discovered a beautiful waterfall hidden in the Pandoran wilderness. They spent hours exploring and talking, and it was then that Lo'ak knew he was falling in love with them.

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

His worst fear is losing his partner, and he would do anything to protect them and keep them safe.

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?)

One of Lo'ak's quirks is his love of collecting rare and unusual plants and animals, which he keeps in a special part of his “home”.

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)

Lo'ak loves to call his partner "my love" or "my heart.”

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?)

He loves to spend quality time with his partner, whether it's exploring the Pandoran wilderness, watching the stars, or simply cuddling by the fire.

R = Rhythm (what song reminds you of them?)

The song that reminds Lo'ak of his partner is "You Are the Love of My Life" by Sam Cooke.

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?)

Lo'ak is very open with his partner and shares his secrets with them, knowing that they will always keep them safe and never judge him.

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

Lo'ak and his partner have been together for several years, and their love has only grown stronger over time. They have been through many challenges and adventures together, and have always been there for each other through thick and thin. Their relationship is built on trust, loyalty, and mutual respect, and they are deeply committed to each other and to their future together.

U = Upset (how do they act when you’re upset?)

When his partner is upset, Lo'ak is very attentive to their needs and tries to comfort them and make them feel better. He is also patient and understanding, knowing that sometimes people need space to process their emotions.

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?)

Lo'ak is very proud of his partner and loves to show them off to his friends and family. He admires their intelligence and their passion for their work, and is always happy to support them and cheer them on.

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?)

Lo'ak would fight for his partner and protect them with all his might, knowing that they are the most important person in his life.

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

Lo'ak is very good at reading his partner and can tell when they are upset or happy just by the tone of their voice or the look in their eyes. He is also very attuned to their needs and is always there for them when they need him.

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?)

If Lo'ak were to propose to his partner, he would likely do it in a special and meaningful way that would reflect their shared interests and values. For example, he might take them on a hike to a secluded spot in the Pandoran wilderness, where he could present them with a small but meaningful token, such as a ring made from a rare and beautiful Pandoran flower. Alternatively, he might propose to them while they watching a beautiful sunset sky, or the stars. Whatever the setting, Lo'ak would be sure to express his love and commitment to his partner in a heartfelt and sincere way, and would be overjoyed if they said yes.

Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?)

He finds calm and peace in his bond with his partner and in their shared love of nature. He also finds solace in his tulkun, with whom he shares a deep spiritual connection, and in the simple pleasures of life, such as a quiet moment by the fire or a walk in the woods.

#avatar #avatar the way of water #avatar imagine #avatar imagines #lo'ak #jake sully #avatar alphabet #tulkun #lo'ak x reader #avatar headcanons

[ken-dom]

Midnight Thoughts

Sebastian Wilder x Jacob Palmer

1.2k words

∘₊✧ Summary: Jacob, feeling lonely, reaches out. Seb, feeling irritated, makes an offer.

∘₊✧ Author's notes: This is entirely thanks to my pals on goosecord with extra special thank you's to Sascha and Clam for the fun chat that encouraged me to write this, and to K for checking my first draft and being my sanity as always! Song title from Midnight Thoughts by Set If Off, which seems so them somehow, especially from Jacob's point of view. Also, I am already SO tempted to write a second part to this…

∘₊✧ Warning/content: NSFW, masturbation, anal play, dildos, crying, hinted exhibitionism, sexting

∘₊✧─────────────────────✧₊∘

Jacob’s hips rock in a steady rhythm; not exactly slow but he’s not really going for it either. He’s bored, you see.

He’s riding a brand new dildo, thick and long and pinned between his heels while he slides himself down and raises his hips up again, an abundance of old – and some new – toys scattered around him on his crisp but ruffled bed sheets. The newest ones remain unopened, some he’s tried once or twice, and most are well-used, but none can quite hit the spot he needs them to. They rarely do.

He’s hard, he needs to cum. But he can’t. Because there is no one to see him climax, and where’s the fun in that?

He left the curtains drawn back on his floor to ceiling windows that stretch the full length of one wall in his bedroom. There’s no one out there, though, in the expanse of landscaped gardens. And why would there be? He lives alone, and he doesn’t get visitors. And if his gardener was on shift today, he would have drawn those curtains for sure, but then he wouldn’t have even got this far before giving up.

He needs attention and has no one to give him it. His cock needs attention, too, but he refuses to cum at his own touch whilst sobbing into his pillow again. Not today. If he’s going to sob, someone needs to make him sob. Make it a thrill rather than a pathetic attempt to feel some worth.

With a resigned sigh, he flops back and onto his side, propping his head on the foam pillow and reaching for his phone from the nightstand, his neglected cock twitching, but not leaking.

****

A drawn out, satisfied moan echoes around Seb’s apartment. A thin blade of sunlight illuminates a strip across his naked form, and if he was more coherent right now, he would appreciate the art of it, but all he can focus on his the heat building in his core as he fucks himself on his dildo, slow and deliberate movements clouding his thoughts into a haze of bliss.

He only has one toy, he’s used it for years, and it does the trick every time. Seb is well practised at getting what he wants, and pleasure is no exception.

The tip of his toy, perfectly shaped for his body, brushes so deliciously against that spot inside him that makes his toes curl every time he drags it out and pushes it back in, and he trembles, forcing himself not to speed up. Not yet. He intends to prolong his pleasure for as long as he can manage, until his throbbing, weeping cock can’t take any more and will be fit to explode with the slightest touch. 

Much like jazz, it’s an art.

The first thick pearl of precum pumps from his tip and he gasps at the brief, temporary relief in his already achingly untouched cock, and that’s alright for now. It’s building up, slowly but surely to the explosive orgasm he craves. After all, he has all day.

****

Jacob stares at his phone. He’s messaged three women now, all of whom usually seem so desperate to jump into bed with him. But he’s getting nothing. Why aren’t they responding? None of them? Is there a Women Who’ve Slept With Jacob Palmer convention that he missed the memo for? Surely he should be a guest speaker at the very least.

His lip trembles and a single teardrop wets his pillowcase. Just one, at least, for now. 

He can’t let this end in him sobbing himself to sleep and being discovered by his cleaner in the morning, surrounded by dildos and vibes and fleshlights, and miserably alone.

‘Fuck it,’ he growls, frustrated, and opens up another new conversation, scrolling down his contacts to select a name from lower down the list. Lower, that is, than ‘Girl 1,’ ‘Girl 2,’ and ‘Girl 3 - v.2.’

****

Seb is gripping his pillow so hard with his free hand that his knuckles have begun to ache. He doesn’t notice this, though, until his phone pings and disrupts his flow.

On hearing the shrill tone, his fingers uncurl from the thin cotton, and his eyes, brimming with irritation, pop open.

He can’t have this. He simply cannot have the outside world ruining his pleasure with something as banal as ‘notifications.’

He deserves to cum in peace, in his own time, undisturbed. To finish his work of art.

Carefully, he reaches for his phone to switch it onto silent mode, forget about the disruption, and continue on as he was, but when he lifts the device from where he discarded it face-down on the bed, he sees the screen and his cock twitches.

Jacob Palmer1 unread message

His eyes widen at the natural response of his body, and he almost drops his phone in haste to unlock the message and see what Jacob wants.

‘Hey’

Seb rolls his eyes. Hey. How Jacob manages to get so many women into bed is beyond Seb, between his unoriginal chat up schtick and the way he seems to be absolutely convinced they’re all falling over themselves to have him between their thighs. Idiot.

But, beyond his better judgement, Seb, clenching around his dildo, lets go of the base to use both hands for typing, and replies with a simple, ‘Hi, Jacob.’

As if the reply was already prepared and ready to send, it flashes up immediately beneath his own text.

‘What u doing’

Seb huffs a disbelieving laugh. No punctuation. Shorthand. Jesus. Still, he types a reply.

‘Some quite important business. Did you want something?’

Attention, Jacob thinks, but he types, ‘No girls are texting back, felt lonely, thought you’d understand’

Seb rolls his eyes again, this time it’s partly at how quickly Jacob replies every time – he’s so much more needy than he realises – and partly at the assumption that Seb is bothered by women deciding not to reply to him.

He smirks as he crafts the perfect response, if he does say so himself. 

‘So you thought you’d text a guy instead?’

Jacob’s heart races. He bites his lip, hands shaking as he types, ‘I’m not gay…’ and hits send. His cock is finally leaking and his fingers turn white where he grips his phone hard, unblinking, as he awaits Seb’s response.

Seb sighs at Jacob’s passe reply exasperatedly and shakes his head. 

Fuck it. If he didn’t try now, it would never happen.

Blood boiling, he replies, ‘I fuck men and I’m trying to fuck myself right now so stop texting. Either get over here and fuck me yourself or I’ll come over there and fuck you.’

A pause. 

The longest pause Seb has ever seen from Jacob. He wonders if he’s scared Jacob off for good, their playful, intermittent flirting finally coming to an end because Seb was a little too honest. He begins to feel something similar to what Jacob had started out with swelling in his chest.

Then, to his relief, three dots. Jacob is typing.

‘On my way.’

#jacob palmer #sebastian wilder #jacob palmer x sebastian wilder #jacob palmer smut #sebastian wilder smut #jacob palmer fic #sebastian wilder fic #ryan gosling #ryan gosling smut #ryan gosling fic #lala land #crazy stupid love #ken-dom writes

[grimacingneverstawp]

I would absolutely ADORE a fic of astarion and halsin cuddling if you would be so kind.

Fluffy Drabble~

Warning: none

Pairing: Halsin x Astarion

Though the camp was lively, music weaving through the air as Alfira strummed her lute. Alit by candles and campfire, the dusk settled down into a warm orange afterglow. Conversation was buzzing as the Tieflings rejoiced in their saviors despite the impending journey through the Shadowlands to Baldur's Gate.

Astarion had been wincing as he drank wine, muttering about its lack of quality. Despite being stranded in the wilderness, he saw no excuse for lackluster libations. A twinge of jealousy came over the spawn as he watched the joyful elation of the camp inhabitants.

From the corner of his eye, Astarion saw the burly Archdruid, Halsin, standing off to the side in quiet observance of the festivities. Hmmmm. Astarion had a wicked thought.

With the ease of a well practice predator, Astarion sauntered over to the elf. His red eyes were heavy lidded in thought as he tried to strategize on the simplest way to get his needs met. Grabbing a bottle of mead from a stash as he walked, waggling the bottle as he walked up to Halsin.

“Do you find the wine as repulsive as I do?” Astarion asked, trusting the bottle into Halsin's hand.

Halsin looked down at Astarion, his eyes searching the vampire intently. There was a glint of mischievous energy behind those red eyes, but that was common for the trickster.

“I rarely imbibe. Goes straight to my head. Next thing you know, I'll be breaking into song or declaring my love for the first person I lay eyes in.” Halsin spoke warmly, almost laughing to himself as he thought of his younger years of partaking.

“Rarely does mean sometimes. And I believe that time is now.” Astarion put on his alluring mask, his fingers gently reaching to trace the leather band on Halsin's arm.

Seeing no immediate threat, Halsin decided to indulge in the offered mead, if only to keep Astarion preoccupied. Halsin had seen how he kept himself from the group, staying on the fringes.

“Perhaps you are right.” The chuckle from Halsin was low and sweet.

As the night wore on and bottle after bottle was emptied, Halsin's stoic demeanor gave way to a hearty laugh and a rosy complexion. Astarion watched with an amused smirk as the typically reserved druid became more effusive with his words and gestures.

For a second, Astarion felt a lightness in his ribs as Halsin swung an arm around his slender shoulders. He was pulled close, leaning against Halsin's hulking pecs as he regaled an encounter with a group of beautiful harpies. His neck was exposed, a vein tempting Astarion with its gently throbbing. He would just need to turn his head. This had to be the moment.

Just as Astarion was about to seize his opportunity to take advantage of the drunken elf, Halsin turned to him with a wide smile and suddenly transformed into a massive bear.

Without missing a beat, Halsin wrapped his enormous bear arms around Astarion in a tight hug. Caught off guard, Astarion struggled futilely against the bear's grip. To Astarion's surprise and slight horror, Halsin, still in his bear form, promptly fell asleep, his snores echoing throughout the camp.

The camp fell into a stunned silence before erupting into laughter at the sight of the sophisticated vampire trapped in a bear hug. Despite his initial shock, Astarion couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of the situation.

There was no waking the drunk bear, even as Karlach attempted to lift him. She laughed and tossed Astarion a pillow as she waved herself off to bed. The pressure of the bear was surprisingly soothing as the sky filled with specks of light. The camp had grown quiet, the celebration dying softly as exhaustion took everyone to slumber.

In those moments, Astarion could have bitten down on Halsin and drank his fill. Instead, he let out a long breath and settled into the course fur of the bear. There were worse ways to spend the night besides being cuddled by a grizzly bear.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 companions #halsin #halsin's perfect #astarion #fanfic #headcanon #drabble #bg3 drabble #Astarion's also perfect #mention of karlach #fluff #cuddles

[bmp-slbp-matchup]

SLBP: Lords' ideal types

Introduction: In Otome, we can obviously dive into the life of a specific MC and while she often differs slightly depending on which love interest we're following, she remains the same character with the same background and overall personality. Most developers make an effort to make her as neutral as possible as to enable self-insertion for the largest group of readers, but needlessly to say, that's an aim that can hardly be attained.

In SLBP, we have cook MC with the "wilder" alternation of ninja MC in the Song of Shadow version. As the Otome universe predicts, each and every character will fall for her: It doesn't matter, if the love interest is bloodthirsty, stoic, funny, naive; she's got them all wrapped around her finger.

Doubtlessly, however, those characters, too, would in fact differ in what they find attractive and seek for in a partner.

________________

Nobunaga:

A well-informed person. Nobunaga's ideal type is someone who has a general overview on a variety of topics and basically knows what's going on in the world. He doesn't even mind if they have sly tendencies. To him, it's important that he can rely on them during tougher times in his life instead of being a cute extra on the side.

Mitsuhide:

Someone who is similar to himself. People can rarely relate to Mitsuhide's choices, interests or hobbies. Due to his exemplary attitude and embrace of virtues, he even took on the image of being a boring person. Someone who relates to him in regard to not only hobbies, but also moral standards would attract him the most.

Yukimura:

A carefree but caring soul. It is most likely that Yukimura falls for a person whom he can share inconsequential moments with, much fun, much love, little drama. This is not to say that there will be no drama in Yukimura's relationships, but it is the softness within a person that makes him potentially fall in love with them.

Saizo:

A light-hearted person. This man doesn't know how healthy human relationships work, so he seeks whatever is easiest for him to deal with. If he can have fun at their expense, that's definitely a plus point. Regardless of if it's actually good for him or not, he's not a fan of being challenged or forced to face certain issues. Saizo prefers a partner who offers him stability in a life of turmoil over someone who acts as a pit stop for further development.

Masamune:

Attentive, patient and serene. Earning Masamune's trust is comparable to approaching a cat - charging right in doesn't work. Rather, it's a better idea to wait, retreat when necessary and retry. Someone who can properly interpret his reactions and doesn't give up on him while still offering him his space would definitely be rewarded with endless loyalty.

Kojuro:

Combining ostensible oppositions. There is little more attractive to Kojuro than someone whose personality is solidified enough for them to determine appropriately when to be mature or silly, when to be compassionate or strict, etc. Ideally, they are dominant, headstrong without neglecting being a teamplayer, when the time calls for it.

Shingen:

A free spirit. Someone who does whatever they want, says whatever they want whenever they want not only attracts Shingen's attention, but also gets him going. He likes people that don't care for others' opinions or restrictions of other kinds, but this doesn't mean that this type of personality wouldn't clash with Shingen in a committed relationship, as he can be very possessive.

Kenshin:

Someone who is appreciative and perhaps a bit unconventional. Kenshin chooses to see beauty in everything and feels attracted to people who manage to do the same. He prefers optimistic and bubbly personalities that have a positive profundity. Besides, he's quirky and enjoys little peculiarities in people who surround him.

Hideyoshi:

Nurturing and compassionate at heart. It's not the behavior or attitude that matters to him, but the motivation underlying the respective actions. Hideyoshi would see a potential partner in someone, if they care for people, regardless of how they show it. Their values have to, however, be genuine instead of being based on ulterior motives and Hideyoshi will see through them.

Toshiie:

The sultry kind. Toshiie feels attracted to whatever is considered conventionally "sexy". His ideal type is someone who is sure of themselves and knows exactly what they want. In that case, they can also afford to be a bit more on the dominant or even arrogant side. However, Toshiie doesn't negotiate when it comes to mentalities that stray too much from his own.

___

Reminder: "Ideal Type" does not equal what type is actually good for someone, nor does it exclude other types from being someone's potential soul mate. I can totally see Toshiie ending up falling head over heals for a "tomboy" or "wallflower" or Saizo's ideal type impeding his character development etc. etc.

#whom would you be the best match for? #slbp #not a match up

[sunandmoonseisai]

Some wander/Sylvia headcanons.

1. This one is pretty much Canon but Sylvia need a lot more sleep than wander. Wander wake up way earlier than her and fall asleep long after her. Once Sylvia lie down, wander spend a few hours exploring the surroundings and making up little songs. Sometimes he lie down on the crook of her sitting position like so

And watch the stars comfortably.

2. The meals arrangement. Wander wake up early and make some breakfast for the both of them. At lunch, they explore the planet and go to a nearby dinner or restaurant. They rarely go to a place that don't offer vegetarian food. Sometimes, wander would treat Sylvia to a jellyfish pie but he never eat it. Sylvia generally makes supper with grocery she bought or what she could dig up in the surroundings. Obviously, this arrangement change depending if they're spending the day at the mall or in the wilderness for example.

3. The money

As far as I know, there's no explanation for where their money come from. The most probable explanation is that the folks they help through their adventures sometimes give them money in return. My headcanon is that the hat give them the money. But because the hat is wise, it doesn't give them more money than what they would need ideally if they're careful. That's why Sylvia is grumpy when they overspend for some unexpected reason.

4. Now for something more self-indulgent. Wander like being pet and when Sylvia has troubles sleeping, she run her fingers through his fur as they watch the stars and it helps her relax.

That's all for now ^^

#wander over yonder #wander and sylvia #woy headcanons #wander woy #woy sylvia

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Marlene Dietrich (Shanghai Express, Witness for the Prosecution, Morocco)—Bisexual icon, super hot when dressed both masculine and feminine, lived up her life in the queer Berlin scene of the 1920s, central to the 'sewing circle' of the secret sapphic actresses of Old Hollywood, refused lucrative offers by the Nazis and helped Jews and others under persecution to escape Nazi Germany, the love of my life

Mary Philbin (Phantom of the Opera, The Man Who Laughs)— I must simply say I love Mary Loretta Philbin. She was known for her, in the words of Wikipedia, ethereal screen presence. In fact, Pat O' Malley says it best, "If I were superstitious I would think that the spirit of some great tragedienne of a forgotten past slipped into Mary's soul when she heard the camera begin to click." I first saw her in the Phantom of the Opera adaptation of 1925, where she plays a very interesting rendition of Christine Daae (I would argue a foundational performance, since this was the first mainstream portrayal of the character outside of Gaston Leroux's 1910 book) opposite Lon Chaney as the title character, and I Loved her performance, and ofc developed a bit of a crush on her. After her years in Hollywood, she stopped acting in 1930 and lived the rest of her life in relative peace. One fact that always stuck with me was the fact that later in her life, she very rarely made public appearances, but did in fact do so in order to attend the Los Angeles opening of Andrew Lloyd Webber's Phantom of the Opera. And if all that isn't enough to convince you, look at a photo of her. She is really, stunningly beautiful.

This is round 3 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Marlene Dietrich:

ms dietrich....ms dietrich pls.....sit on my face

its marlene dietrich!!!! queer legend, easily the hottest person to ever wear a tuxedo, that hot hot voice, those glamorous glamorous movies…. most famously she starred in a string of movies directed by josef von sternberg throughout the 1930s, beginning with the blue angel which catapulted her to stardom in the role of the cabaret singer lola lola. known for his exquisite eye for lighting, texture, imagery, von sternberg devoted himself over the course of their collaborations to acquiring exceptional skill at photographing dietrich herself in particular, a worthy direction in which to expend effort im sure we can all agree. she collaborated with many other great directors of the era as well, including rouben mamoulian (song of songs), frank borzage (desire), ernst lubitsch (angel), fritz lang (rancho notorious), and billy wilder (witness for the prosecution). the encyclopedia britannica entry im looking at while compiling this propaganda describes her as having an “aura of sophistication and languid sexuality” which✔️💯. born marie magdalene dietrich, she combined her first and middle names to coin the moniker “marlene”. she was a trendsetter in her incorporation of trousers, suits, and menswear into her wardrobe and her androgynous allure was often remarked upon. critic kenneth tynan wrote, “She has sex, but no particular gender. She has the bearing of a man; the characters she plays love power and wear trousers. Her masculinity appeals to women and her sexuality to men.” in the 1920s she enjoyed the vibrant queer nightlife of weimar berlin, visiting gay bars and drag balls, and in hollywood her love affairs with men and women were an open secret. she was an ardent opponent of nazi germany, refusing lucrative contacts offered her to make films there, raising money with billy wilder to help jews and dissidents escape, and undertaking extensive USO tours to entertain soldiers with an act that included her a playing musical saw and doing a mindreading routine she learned from orson welles. starting in the 50s and continuing into the mid-70s she worked largely as a cabaret artist touring the world to large audiences, employing burt bacharach as her musical arranger.

First of all, there are those publicity photos of her in a tux. Second of all, I have never been the same since knowing that she sent copies of those photos to her Berlin lovers signed "Daddy Marlene." Not only is she hot in all circumstances, but she can do everything from earthy to ice queen. Also, she kept getting sexy romantic lead parts in Hollywood after the age of 40, which would be rare even now. She hated Nazis, loved her friends, and had a sapphic social circle in Hollywood. She also had cheekbones that could cut glass and a voice that could melt you.

Her GENDER her looks her voice her everything

“In her films and record-breaking cabaret performances, Miss Dietrich artfully projected cool sophistication, self-mockery and infinite experience. Her sexuality was audacious, her wit was insolent and her manner was ageless. With a world-weary charm and a diaphanous gown showing off her celebrated legs, she was the quintessential cabaret entertainer of Weimar-era Germany.”

The bar scene in Morocco awoke something in me and ultimately changed my gender

"Her manner, the critic Kenneth Tynan wrote, was that of ‘a serpentine lasso whereby her voice casually winds itself around our most vulnerable fantasies.’ Her friend Maurice Chevalier said: ‘Dietrich is something that never existed before and may never exist again.’”

"Songstress, photographer, fashion icon, out bisexual phenom (notoriously stole Lupe Velez and Joan Crawford's men, and Errol Flynn's wife, had a torrid affair with Greta Garbo that ended in a 60-year feud, other notable conquests including Erich Maria Remarque -yes, the guy who wrote All Quiet on the Western Front- Douglas Fairbanks Junior, Claudette Colbert, Mercedes de Acosta, Edith Piaf), anti-Nazi activist. Marlene was a bitch - she had an open marriage for decades and one of her favorite things was making catty commentary about her current lover with her husband, and her relationship with her daughter was painful- but she was also immensely talented, a hard worker, an opponent of fascism and the hottest ice queen in Hollywood for a long time."

"She can sing! She can act! She told the Nazis to fuck off and became a US citizen out of spite! She worked with other German exiles to create a fund to help Jews and German dissidents escape (she donated an entire movie salary, about $450k, to the cause). She looks REALLY GOOD in a suit. If you're not convinced, please listen to her sing "Lili Marlene". Absolutely gorgeous woman with a gorgeous voice."

Gifset link

"Bisexual icon and Nazi-hater. Looks absolutely stunning in the suits she liked to wear. 'I dress for the image. Not for myself, not for the public, not for fashion, not for men'."

"would you not let her walk on you?"

Mary Philbin:

She is hot?

Shes just so cute

Mary Philbin started acting after winning a beauty contest hosted by Universal Pictures and went on to star in a number of films, including one of the most iconic silent horror films of her era, "the Phantom of the Opera". She also gave a sweet, heart-wrenching performance in "The Man Who Laughs" alongside Conrad Veidt.

#mary philbin #marlene dietrich #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 3 #Youtube

[jazzytrait]

(transcript under the cut)

London: Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen. Let's get to the part we've all been waiting for: It's time to meet our competitors! Bernard Harper by @akitasimblr (a clone because Harpers do not die. So sayeth their Watcher.) - A consummate athlete - Cares very little about appearances - Has a degree in biology and played college football - Loves extreme sports - The son of a famous jungle explorer - Regularly goes on climbing excursions in Mt. Komorebi

Lavender Song by @comfyinn - Has a twin sister - A passionate painter - Lucky color is yellow - Known to be very jealous of her twin - Her necklace is a gift from her sister - Friendly and loves talking to people and making friends

Lauren Mack by @potionofquestionablecontents - Raised in a rural fishing village - Handy, with a background in machinery repair - Fiercely independent - Known to be a massive slob - Very confident

Aubree Weller by @natiesims - Windenburg native and the eldest of 3 - Lifelong student of martial arts - Professional boxer and yoga instructor - Has also worked as a model, bartender and in PR - Has a degree in communications - Loves the outdoors and gets cranky being inside

Tianna Rhodes by @yeshummingbird - Recent immigrant to SimNation from Sixam - Has a sim archaeology degree from Sixam University - Deeply interested in sim culture - A skilled fabricator - Known to be handy - Has a hobby interest in rocket science

Carter Rosen by @simsinfinitylt - From a remote village in the forests - Adept at wilderness survival - Ex-military who resigned due to a knee injury - Lives in seclusion and is rarely seen in society - Suffers from PTSD - Is known to be paranoid form time to time

Chen Huan by @moonfromearth - Renowned monster/occult hunter - Spends their free time keeping fit and staying active - Cautious to the point of seeming paranoid - Very handy and resourceful - A mysterious figure in society, only seen when working - Competitive and ready for action

Kendall Shockley by @wildmelon - Known for her bad attitude - Constantly finds flaws in others - Loves to aggravate people to get a reaction - Favorite animal is a skunk - Resourceful and handy - Trusts no one

London: Alright, folks. Let's get down to business. It's time for us to go to The Arena for our first challenge: Hell's Kitchen. Stay tuned until after these messages. Things are about to get... heated.

#motivetrialschallenge #simblr #ts4 #thesims4 #sims4 #the sims 4 #sims 4 #ts4 challenge #ts4 challenges #sims 4 challenge #sims 4 challenges #sims4 challenge #sims4 challenges #ts4 simblr #the sims 4 simblr

[istanbulconfidential]

The Palm Branch Of Palestine

Palm branch of Palestine, oh tell me,

In that far distant home-land fair,

Wast rooted in the mountain gravel

Or sprung from some vale garden rare?

Once d'er the Jordan's silver billows

Fond kissed with thee the Eastern sun?

Have the grim gales 'neath starry heavens

Swept over thee from Lebanon?

And was a trembling prayer soft whispered,

A father's song sung over thee-

When from the parent stem dis-severed

Bu some poor aborigine?

And is the palm tree ever standing,

Amid the fierce glare beating down,

The pilgrim in the desert luring

To shelter 'neath her shadow crown?

Perhaps the leaves ancestral shiver

In unappeased parting pain,

The branch conceals a homesick longing

For desert wilderness again?

Mikhail Yuryevich Lermontov

#palestine #filistin #mikhail lermontov #love