#Farmhouse Ale

[grandboute]

Merci Peter Gun !

[auraeseer]

Sundown . . .

[thebreweryblazer]

Old Hights Brewing Company, Hightstown, New Jersey - Mercer County

[justbeers]

Grisette - Divague

[arc-hus]

Adderbury Hill, Oxfordshire, England - Al-Jawad Pike

[thedaily-beer]

Modern Times + Burial Forgotten Landscapes Sour Ale aged in Madeira Barrels with Plums (Picked up from Modern Times). A 4 of 4. Quite a bit more plum-y and fresh/fruity than I was expecting from something barrel-aged, but it's quite enjoyable. Sour but not puckering, and really offers a bit more funk as this warms up a touch. The plum qualities are really nice.

[brandonsdrunkagain]

Farmhouse Ales Tastings! In my barn no less!

[notebook91286]

195/365

[janiehellion]

𝚮𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝛐𝐮𝐜𝐡 ⋮ 𝔇𝔞𝔯𝔶𝔩 𝔇𝔦𝔵𝔬𝔫

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: When Daryl Dixon is injured and stuck in bed, he’s not exactly thrilled about the idea of being pampered by the group. But you? You’re more than ready to take care of him—and show him just what it means to be a good boy. Think Daryl Dixon’s all rough and tough? Think again...

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: Smut ⋮ Handjob ⋮ Teasing ⋮ Edging ⋮ Orgasm Control

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 4.033 𝑺𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈: S2E05 & S2E06 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: GenderNeutral!Reader

𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ⋮ 𝑹𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝑮𝒖𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔

You wiped the sweat from your forehead, the Georgia sun burning down on you as you walked over to Maggie and Glenn outside of the house on Hershel's farm.

Every so often, you'd look towards the cars where a few others in the group were working, trying to make the most of the now limited supplies you all had left at the moment.

"I got a lot of corn here," Maggie said, holding up a can. "Maybe we can make some soup tonight. What do you think?"

Glenn laughed, "Soup sounds fine, I think. As long as we don’t have to eat beans again. I think I’m starting to sprout beans myself."

"Hey Maggie," you shouted over to her. "How’s everything going so far? You two need any help?"

Maggie gave you a small, but rather distracted, smile. "It’s been a quiet run, so we’re okay. We just came back a few minutes ago with some new supplies."

You nodded. "That's good. Means we won't starve anytime soon. Hey, listen, I heard Daryl’s still inside the house. Do you know how he is feeling? I really hope he is feeling better. Everything that has happened, I just... I don't know. I still can't wrap my head around it."

"Well, dad took care of him, just like he did with Carl, so I wouldn't worry too much about his condition. And if it would've worsened, dad would've told Rick already, that's for sure. But what has happened to him out there, and then the bullet? I don't know him well enough, but I think that he’s too stubborn to admit he even needed help in the first place. And that ear necklace? I'm sorry, but that was beyond creepy."

You remembered… Daryl has been out there, trying to find Sophia again. Of course, it all had to go sideways. You didn't know the details exactly, but you remembered how he had dragged himself back to the farm, looking like he’d been through hell and back. Covered in dirt and blood, and barely conscious.

Then, just when things couldn’t get any worse, Andrea took a shot at him from the roof of the RV. She’d been told to hold off by Rick, Shane, and Dale, but she fired anyway, hitting Daryl in the head, with the bullet grazing his temple.

"I’ll check on him," you now said, putting the supplies aside again. "You're right, he's too stubborn to admit it, but he needs someone to make sure he’s not pushing himself too hard. And if he could, he'd already be out there again."

As you walked towards the farmhouse, you passed by Rick, who was busy organizing and looking through different maps. He looked up at you, giving you a nod. "Hey," he said, his voice sounding rather exhausted. "Are you going to check on Daryl? Or are you going to help Beth and Lori in the kitchen?"

You nodded. "Yeah. I’m going to make sure he’s okay. Daryl's been through hell while trying to find Sophia."

"Good idea. He’s definitely been through a lot, that's true. I mean, we all have. But just… be careful with him. You know how Daryl is."

You laughed, shaking your head. "I know, Rick. That’s why I’m going to make sure he stays put and tied to the bed. Don't worry."

As you walked into the farmhouse, you could hear a voice coming from the kitchen, where Lori was preparing a meal with Beth together for Daryl and the rest of the group.

"Hello," Lori said and looked at you. "Are you going to see Daryl, or do you want to help us? Rick has been annoying me with me apparently needing help, even though Beth is helping me already."

You nodded, giving her a smile back. "Don't worry, Lori. I want to make sure Daryl's alright, you know, after everything that has happened lately."

She gave you a quick and thankful thumbs up before you continued heading to the room in which Daryl was in, but paused for a moment in front of the door, taking a deep breath. The thought of Daryl lying there, probably still hurt and so vulnerable, made your heart ache. He’d always been so strong, but seeing him in such a state was hard to imagine. And just as you were about to open the door, you heard a voice coming from the inside of the room.

You stopped, listening for a moment before pushing open the door to find Hershel standing by Daryl’s bedside.

"Evening, Hershel," you said as you entered the room, trying to keep your tone neutral despite the knot of nervousness in your stomach.

Hershel looked up, smiling at the sight of you. "Hey there, good to see you. I could use an extra pair of hands."

You moved closer to the bed, where Daryl lay, and Hershel continued, "Daryl’s been in and out of consciousness yesterday most of the time, but I’m hopeful he’ll recover fast if he gets the rest he needs. And if you could help changing the rest of the bandages right now, that would be great."

You nodded, taking a closer look at Daryl. "Sure, I’ll do whatever I can to help. I know he can be stubborn, but he needs to take it easy eventually."

"That’s the spirit. I’ve done what I can for now. He’ll need the rest."

You were still looking at Daryl as Hershel took a few steps back, who now moved slightly at the sound of your voice. His eyes opened just a little bit, and he looked at you with confusion.

"Hey, tough guy," you said. "How are you holding up so far?"

"Just peachy, as always," he answered rather annoyed.

You couldn’t help but smile at his answer. He certainly sounded like the Daryl Dixon that you all knew so far. "Well, I’m here now, so you’d better let me take care of you."

Hershel gave you another nod before finally walking out of the room. "Good, I’ll leave you to it. If you need anything, like more bandages, don’t hesitate to ask. We still got enough medical supplies left if needed."

"Thanks, Hershel," you replied, watching as he left the room.

You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for the task ahead.

"What’re ya even doin’ here?" Daryl suddenly mumbled. "'M fine. Don’t need no babysittin’ bullshit. Ain't needin' ya 'round here either."

You gave him a smile, trying to hide how annoyed you already were with his usual behavior. "You’re obviously not fine, Daryl. You’ve been through a lot, and you know it. I’m here to make sure you don’t do anything stupid, like trying to get up and do something you shouldn’t."

He grumbled in frustration, trying to turn away from you. "Yeah… whatever."

You raised an eyebrow, shaking your head. "Yeah... Too bad, huh? Because right now, that means letting me help you."

"Ain’t nothin’ you can do that Hershel didn’t already do," he mumbled again.

You set down the small medical kit Hershel had brought with him and pulled a chair closer to the bed. "Hershel did his part, sure, but it’s not just about the wounds. You need to rest and relax, and that’s where I come in. Also, taking off the old bandages and putting on new ones isn't that hard, but I doubt that you can do it yourself. And Hershel just left the room, so it's up to me now to change the rest of them. I don't care if you complain about it or not."

You then began to carefully take off the bandages from his side, where the crossbow bolt had pierced itself through. Daryl winced a little, but he didn’t complain so far, his pride keeping him quiet even though you could see how uncomfortable it was for him.

"You know, for someone who’s always acting so tough, you’re a real damn mess right now," you said, trying to break the ice with a bit of humor. "How’d you end up like that anyway? What even happened out there?"

Daryl smirked a bit to himself. "Ya think I’m gonna tell ya a story now? Hell, jus' get it over with."

You shook your head and laughed quietly, focusing on cleaning the wound first. "Hey, I'm not the one that looks like the wrong side of the bed became sentient and beat the ever-loving shit out of you. So you’re going to have to deal with me being the one to help you. It’s either that or I get someone else who’s less careful."

"Less careful?" Daryl asked, and he winced again as you applied antiseptic to the wound. "Sounds to me like yer enjoyin’ this."

You stopped for a moment and looked at him with a teasing smile. "You know what? Maybe I really am enjoying this. Or maybe I just want to make sure you’re not going to cause us any more trouble, even though we all appreciate what you did. Especially Carol."

"Ya think I need ya to look after me? I can handle myself jus' fine," he grumbled and closed his eyes, not wanting to look at you anymore.

You soon finished cleaning the wound and then continued with the fresh bandages. "Oh, I’m sure you can, Dixon. But that’s not even the point. The point is, you’re not in any shape to be running around and playing redneck cowboy."

Daryl moved slightly again, trying to get more comfortable. "Ain't in need to be told twice. Thank ya very much."

You stopped wrapping the bandage around him, waiting for him to get into a more comfortable position. "Stop it with the damn sarcasm, Daryl. For someone who’s always trying to play it cool, you’re really not doing a great job of hiding how much this is bothering you. You do realize that looking weak and needing help are two different things, right? You're far from being weak, and you've done much more for this group than you can probably imagine, even if you're doubting yourself and telling yourself that it's all bullshit in the end." You told him and then continued, putting on the final bandage. "But it's not. And right now, you need to let yourself be looked after, and you need to give us the chance to care about you. Even if it's only for once."

There was a moment of silence, and for a second he looked at you only to look away again, clearly struggling with giving you an honest answer about what he thinks.

You took a deep breath. "Alright, I’m done with the bandages. How about a quick check of your other injuries?"

Daryl nodded quickly, but you could see he was starting to relax a bit. "Yeah, fine. Jus'… make it quick, will ya? Ain't got no time for this bullshit."

You smiled and began checking his other wounds. "So, what’s your actual excuse for not telling us what has happened?"

"Ain't worth tellin’. Jus' 'nother day of me bein’ stupid," he grumbled back as an answer.

Soon enough, you finished checking his other wounds and stood up, giving him a pat on the shoulder. "Well, now that I’ve made sure you’re all patched up, try to get some rest. We’re all counting on you to be back on your feet soon; don't forget that."

He snorted. "Yeah, sure. I’ll try to stay outta trouble while bein' tied to this damn bed."

You smiled and began to pack up the antiseptic and unused bandages, putting them back into the small medical kit. "That’s all I ask for. Get some sleep, Daryl. You know you need it. Something to eat will be ready soon."

As you put away the last of the bandages, you noticed how tense Daryl seemed to be. So you decided to take an extra moment to help him relax, thinking how a little extra care couldn’t hurt.

Your fingers soon massaged his side as you sat down once more, careful not to touch the wound. It was meant to ease the tense muscles around it a bit, but as your hands moved over his skin, you felt that he seemed to react differently when he gasped slightly.

"Ya really don’t have to," he started, but he stopped talking as you continued, your touch slow and feeling soothing.

You looked up, now looking into his eyes. "Why not? You’re all tense. And it’s not just about the injuries; your whole body’s been through a lot. A little extra care might help. There's nothing wrong with it."

He grunted, trying to remain tough, but his breathing grew heavier, betraying his growing discomfort, and you noticed how his body responded to your touch—a reaction he was clearly trying to hide.

His cock began to harden under the sheets. The outline of it was becoming more pronounced, and you could see the rise of the sheets with each breath he took.

You tried to ignore the current awkwardness of the situation, but it was impossible not to notice, and even more impossible not to look at it. Your fingers stopped, and you hesitated momentarily before continuing to massage his side, with Daryl’s eyes squeezed shut and another groan escaping his lips.

"Ugh... Daryl?" You asked quietly, your voice full of curiosity as you realized what was happening. "Are you… okay?"

He opened his eyes and turned his head away from you. "Yeah, jus', jus' let it be. Shit, jus' stop!"

But you couldn’t ignore the evident hardening beneath the sheets anymore. As you moved slightly in your seat to get a little bit closer to him, your hand accidentally brushed against his cock, and Daryl’s reaction was immediate—he sucked in a breath, his body tensing even more.

"Ain’t needin’ ya to… to be all handsy now, goddamn it!" Daryl's voice was trembling, his body shaking a bit, and his muscles straining, even as you didn't continue to massage him. But the sudden power you had over him was intoxicating, and you decided to take your chance and act on it.

You reached down and carefully pulled back the sheets covering his lower body. Daryl’s breathing hitched as you exposed him, and his cock was already hard, pushing against his pants. You could see it clearly now, the visible outline of it.

You smirked at him as you pulled the waistband of his pants down, just enough to pull his cock out and free it from his underwear.

As you pulled it out, Daryl's eyes widened as he watched you handle him. There was no need for words; the look on his face said it all. He felt vulnerable.

You gave him a smile, your hand now wrapped around his throbbing cock. "You look like you're about to lose it, Dixon."

He glared back at you, but there was no real anger in his eyes. "Ain’t fair, ya know…"

You leaned in close to him, your lips touching his ear. "Well, who said life was fair?" Your hand started to move, giving his cock a slow, torturous stroke that had him groaning. "But maybe… if you ask nicely…"

"God… Please," he groaned again, but it was clear he wasn’t used to begging, yet the desperation in his voice was there beyond doubt.

"Good boy," you murmured, and you could see how his eyes slowly closed as he gave in to your touch and words.

You soon picked up the pace, your hand moving faster, his hips bucking into your hand. "Shit, jus' like that," he moaned, his eyes squeezing shut even more tightly.

Fuck… How he wanted it. Your hand working his cock, making him forget about everything that has happened…

You could tell he was close already. His cock twitched in your hand, and the quiet sounds he was making were turning more desperate. "Please," he gasped again. "I… I can’t..."

"Oh? Already, huh?" You teased him, your thumb brushing over the tip of his cock, smearing the pre-cum over it that had gathered there.

You smirked, enjoying the power you had over him. "Do you like this?" You teased him further.

"Yeah, jus' like that…" He panted, his body trembling. "Please... I need ya to touch me more. Can't fuckin' take it..."

"Touch you where, Daryl? Use your words. Be a good boy and tell me exactly what you want."

"My damn dick... please, jus' touch it." You immediately switched your pace back to pump him slowly again, and each stroke of your hand made him shiver, his moans growing a little louder with every touch.

His hips bucked involuntarily, but you kept your rhythm controlled, never speeding up, not letting him get the orgasm he wanted so desperately.

"I thought you were a tough guy. But look at you—so damn needy already. Come on, Daryl," you mumbled. "You’re not done yet. Not until I say so."

He whimpered, trying to thrust into your hand, but you stopped him, keeping him on edge.

"Fuck, please…" He groaned in frustration. "Don’t stop… jus' fuckin' finish me off already!"

You laughed, your grip tightening just enough to torture him a little more. "And why would I do that? You need to learn so much more about patience."

With each stroke, you used different pressure and speed, sometimes going slower just when he thought he was about to finally cum. The feeling was almost unbearable for Daryl, and you could see it in the way his muscles tensed and relaxed again and again, his breathing only coming out in gasps.

"How does it feel, Daryl? Being held on the edge like this?" You asked, looking over at the door to listen if somebody was coming closer.

"Shit, feels so damn good…" He gasped, his voice strained. "I jus' need… I need to… Fuck!"

You smiled, leaning closer to him once more when you were sure that you'd be left alone. "Not yet, tough guy. I want to see just how much you can take."

You continued your teasing, your strokes slow and torturous. "You can take it. I know you can. You want it, don’t you? You want to make me finish you so badly, but you’re going to have to earn it," you whispered.

Daryl could only nod. "Please… Hell, I can't take much more!" 

He couldn't take it anymore. The teasing—it was all too much. He wanted to cum. And he needed you to make him cum. Hell, he loved it. Your hand pumping his cock, teasing him, making him groan with need. The way you toyed with him, bringing him so close only to pull back? Shit, he was losing it… And the way your fingers wrapped around his cock, jerking it just right… It was driving him insane.

You simply grinned, feeling excited because of the power you held over him. "But that's good. Because I want you to remember this. Remember how much you wanted it and how much I made you wait."

His eyes were still squeezed shut, his fists clenched at his sides as he fought against the urge to give in.

With that, you continued to edge him, every touch, every stroke keeping him on the brink, pushing him to the limit of his own control.

And the feeling of sliding your hand back and forth along his thick shaft, the way he groaned and moaned quietly, trying to keep himself quiet just for you—it was everything you wanted...

"Fuck, please," he moaned again, his voice now breaking slightly.

His cock was pulsing in your hand and still leaking pre-cum, and you knew this was the moment he might not be able to hold back any longer. And just when he was about to finally stumble over the edge, you stopped pumping him completely, pulling your hand away from his throbbing cock.

Daryl’s eyes flew open in shock, anger, and need. "What the fuck?" He growled, his voice hoarse. "Why’d ya stop?"

You leaned in, whispering into his ear. "Because I wanted to see you beg for it, Daryl. And you’re not quite there yet."

He glared at you in need, his cheeks red, and sweat started to form on his body. "Ya can’t jus' leave me like this! Please!"

"Oh, but I can," you answered with a smirk. "And I will. Unless you really beg for it."

Daryl closed his mouth, and you could see the muscles in his jaw twitching around as he gritted his teeth, his pride and ego fighting with his desperate need. Finally, he let out a frustrated groan, his head falling back against the pillow.

"Please, please, let me cum," he whispered and finally started to beg and whimper a little more. "Please! I can't take it anymore. Please…"

God... How much he needed you. Desperately. Your hands, your touch, everything about the way you teased and pumped him, the way you handled him… It was like you knew exactly what he wanted and what he needed, and you were giving it to him for free, if only he would beg for it...

You smiled, satisfied with his response. "That’s better. Now, let’s see how much more you can take."

You went back to your teasing, your hand moving slowly over his cock, feeling him twitch and pulse again with every touch. His moans grew a little louder, even more desperate, as you brought him to the edge again and again, only to stop just before he could finally cum.

By the time you finally decided to give him what he needed, Daryl was nothing more than a trembling and pleading mess, his hips bucking toward you again and again, his eyes now looking desperatly at you.

"Fuck, you’re such a good boy, Daryl," you whispered quietly. "Look at you, trying to keep quiet for me, trying to hold back so hard. Taking it like you should… Don't stop looking at me."

You sped up, your movements rough and fast, giving him no time to adjust to the now quick pace. His body was shaking, and you could feel he was more than ready to snap.

"Yeah, you want to cum so bad, don’t you?" You teased. "Go on, Daryl. Cum for me. Show me how much you need it. How much you want it."

With a choked groan, Daryl's body tensed. His orgasm hit him hard, his cock pulsing in your grip as he came all over your hand. You kept pumping him through it, milking every last drop out of him.

"Oh, you really are a good boy, aren't you?" You mumbled. "Let it all out. You did so well for me."

He collapsed back against the bed, completely spent and exhausted, his chest heaving up and down as he tried to catch his breath.

You reached for a towel next to the small medical kit, wiping your hand and cleaning up carefully, making sure not to leave any evidence of what had just happened behind, before you looked down at Daryl, a wide smile on your face.

"Fuck," he panted. "That was… fuck..."

"Told you I’d take care of you," you answered him, giving him a wink.

He opened his eyes, looking at you quite exhausted. "Yeah, ya did…"

He didn’t protest as you cleaned him up; he just watched and stared at you with those intense blue eyes, still catching his breath with his mouth slightly open.

"There," you said, as you were finishing everything up. "All cleaned up again."

Daryl didn’t say anything for now, just giving you a small and a little ashamed nod as you leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his sweaty face.

"Get some rest now, tough guy," you whispered, pulling back and standing up. "You’re gonna need it. Remember: Be a good boy for me."

"Yeah… I... I..." He grunted in response, unable to even finish his thoughts after hearing your words, which were still making his head spin.

You simply smirked, heading towards the door. "Anytime, Daryl. Anytime."

As you walked out of the room, you couldn’t help but feel satisfied as well. Daryl Dixon might be tough as hell, but in that moment, he was completely and totally yours.

[radioconstructed]

⌖ ANYONE REMEMBER when I LARPED as a RAE DUNN COLLECTOR for a WEEK to get GOOD CONTENT of me BRAWLING with all the soccer moms in a V.J. MAXX? THAT WAS FUN!

⌖ ANYWAY! I STILL HAVE ALL THE STUFF! WHO WANTS? Make me a DEAL!

[yanderedrabbles]

✨Kicking my feet and twirling my hair thinking about what cozy basement set up boyfriend would have for me!✨

What are your OCs homes like anyway? Do they like certain decor? Does it smell a particular way? Trinkets lying around?

Yandere boys and their homes

Yandere! Cowboy keeps his boots by the door and his old ropes stacked in the entryway. Definitely a whitewashed farmhouse with an old wraparound porch. There's an old deer skull above the fireplace and a couple of hunting rifles on the wall. He likes the view and most mornings he'll drink his coffee with his elbows resting on the porch railing. He likes it when you pick wild flowers and leave them in vases around the house, but he'll never actually tell you that.

Yandere! Soldier's current apartment is pretty old, probably built back in the Soviet era. He doesn't really keep stuff around - he's always moving and being deployed so he doesn't see the point in keeping trinkets. If it wasn't for you, he'd be perfectly fine sleeping in the barracks. Function over everything.

Yandere! Boyfriend's place is honestly pretty cozy. He keeps plenty of throw pillows and afghan blankets. Lots of wooden furniture - most of it he made himself. It's a pretty manly place, but without being overwhelming. Usually smells like vanilla and fresh baked bread. His basement is totally remodelled, with genuine hardwood floors and fairy lights strung across the beams. It's the perfect place to curl up and watch a horror movie, if you ignore the heavy duty locks on the door.

Yandere! State Trooper is pretty young so his apartment is a bit of a mess. He has police gear dumped all over the place. Mostly Ikea style furniture, modern if a bit bland. The only thing he really added was a hook on his headboard to loop your handcuffs through - he can't have you struggling too much and disturbing the neighbours, now can he?

Yandere! Cop for sure has a bachelor apartment with just a bedroom and kitchen. Very neat and clean but pretty boring. It's one of those newly built places with lots of marble and millennial grey. Besides, he's way more interested in buying you whatever you want for your place. His single piece of decor is a scented candle you gave him. He sometimes lights it after a really long day.

Yandere! Gangster has a shitty New York apartment for sure, exposed brick and one of those noisy old fashioned radiators. It's clean but cluttered and there's basically only two rooms. And the worst part? Rent is still ridiculously high.

Yandere! Incubus has a cell in the abbey. It's almost too neat. Almost like it's not lived in. There's a crucifix above his bed and an uncracked bible on the nightstand. His one concession is his collection of dried flowers. Don't touch - they're all poisonous.

Yandere! Desert Bandit is nomadic and needs to move quickly from one hideout to another. He usually stays in a bayt-al-shar with woven rugs on the floor and oil lanterns burning in the corners. It's much larger than you'd expect and surprisingly warm, even through the icy desert nights. It smells of wood smoke and oud.

Yandere! Academic Rival is a thrift hoe and he knows it. Lots of antiques. He especially loves furniture with plenty of engraving or detailing. He either stays in an uptown penthouse or townhouse that his parents own. Spoiled litte brat.

Yandere! Apocalypse Survivor doesn't stay in one place for too long. And he usually picks places with very few entrances. So be prepared for lots of concrete rooms with boarded up windows.

Yandere! Greek Champion is always fighting, so expect everything from confiscated manor houses to canvas military tents. If he ever returns home, you'll find a villa stuffed with treasure from his conquests. Rare furs and rich tapestries and gleaming bronze urns, built with lots of marble columns and open balconies. He has his own bathhouse and he'll spend hours soaking in the steam, his muscles finally relaxing after months of battle.

[fiamat12]

Antonia cleaned up her IG tags now she's cleaning up her TT. Is this a sign that Luke got it done? I still see LA trip and Soho Farmhouse videos but nothing that matches Luke's profile but Luke singing Yellow post is still reposted. 😡

https://www.tiktok.com/@antoniaroumelioti23?_t=ZP-8ukBEI2KF6k&_r=1

Yep. The Paris vids are gone where she was dancing in L's hotel bathroom, as well as the one where some think Soho Rome was reflected in her glasses and the dancing vid. w/ JV. (that could indicate he wants to be rid of any association w/ her, too*). And then some are gone that seem to have nothing to do w/ L - like a March vid. from a dance class, et al.

Likely good news! Maybe the Yellow repost will come down in time, or maybe it never will because they're all friends, and she was just supporting her buddy in BTON! lol At least nothing links her to being w/ L at the same time, same place from an online pov.

*Update from my partner: The JV one was on her page and she deleted it around the time her and Char, Tom and JV went out that one night. The "Yellow" repost is interesting since not everyone can see it as a repost 🤔

If it doesn't assault your eyes, the vids from Paris and Soho Rome that were removed ⬇️

Paris videos #1 & #7 on this reel. Only 3 vids from this compilation are left on her profile. ⏬️

Vid associated w/ Soho Rome ⏬️

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZP825bEMw/

Note: Can't find the JV & A one anymore, but perhaps it's on a fan page somewhere

[hatchetfields-coolest-stoner]

[Al knocks on the door of the farmhouse, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. He looked better than he had, but not by much.]

@second-chances-are-hot

[Ziggs opens the door, the bags on their eyes looking more visible from the restless night they had]

Hey...

[dreamyyesenia]

The Postcard Legacy - Working on another nooboo (??) & More Cuteness

Daphne and Alejandro worked on a huge renovation of the farmhouse the first months after Carmen’s birth. They both enjoyed parenthood a lot and, coming from big families themselves, they could picture themselves having more children. Which of course meant that they needed more space! Thankfully, the farming business was actually very lucrative. They spent all 25.000 simoleons they had saved but it was worth it. Daphne got promoted at her work too! Ale was working hard on his singing skills as well. He at least wanted to write and publish one song. Just one song, he didn’t want the fame, he didn’t want the singer lifestyle. Just one song to express his feelings and thoughts 💭 it was written on his bucket list 📝

[honey-crypt]

a/n: a request from the lovely @fuerrziah! the rest of my drafts are smut requests and i've been anti-horny soooo... have some short but tooth aching sweet fluff!!

word count: 892

warnings: none

summary: a surprise dinner has elliott questioning what you have up your sleeve. little does he know, you have hidden a mermaid's pendant somewhere at the table.

★ honeysuckles and pomegranates - elliott x farmer ★

Elliott clutched the ornate letter close to his chest, as he approached the entrance to the local farm. He recited the contents of the letter by heart in his mind, as if it was a mantra of good luck. Over and over again, the writer repeated to himself, Meet me tonight at 9pm. I have a surprise for you. Dress up. 

And- oh, boy- did Elliott dress up. His day to day appearance reflected nothing but sophistication and charm in his neatly pressed shirts and bold accents, but his “dress up” attire blew that essemble out of the water. Elliott wore his hair in a low ponytail, secured in an emerald green ribbon. He dressed in a flowy white shirt and paired it with relaxed red slacks, his overcoat shrugged off his shoulders like a shawl. His brown Oxfords echoed against the dirt ground, as Elliott approached his beloved’s farmhouse. 

Outside, the farm was illuminated by bronze lanterns, the core areas sporting at least one. Fireflies filled the remaining darkness out with the occasional flicker of dim light. Elliott knocked on the door and awaited for his beloved. A few footsteps rang out from behind the door, closer and closer until the redhead came face to face with you, his love. 

“Hello, honeysuckle,” the term of endearment rolled off his tongue effortlessly. You beamed up at Elliott, “Hello, pompom~” your tongue, meanwhile, teased out the pet name for Elliott. He let out a snort, uncharacteristically poignant of his usual prim and proper self. Yet, with you, Elliott allowed himself to ‘let loose’ and forgo any formalities. 

“You said in your letter-” he unfolded the precious paper of parchment and double-checked its contents, “That you had a surprise for me?” you nodded and held out your hand, “Lemme show you,” the writer graciously took your hand and followed you towards the surprise. Nested within the lushious orchard on your property, fairy lights shined upon a magnificent scene. A small table with two chairs stood proudly in the center, as soft instrumentals hummed from the radio. A bottle of chilled pomegranate wine rested in an ice box on the table, a plate of freshly steamed crab cakes on each side of the chairs. Elliott could only gawk like a dumbstruck fool at the sight before him.

“What do you think? I got this all set up for you,” your voice brought him back into reality. Elliott blinked and turned to you, “What do I think?” he pulled you close and pressed a chaste kiss on your lips, “I believe you have outdone yourself once again, my dear.”

“I’m glad you like it!” you giggled, your smile ever so bright in Elliott’s eyes. You then gestured to the grand dinner, “Let’s eat,” the redhead nodded in agreement and took a seat at the table with you, his mouth salivating at the sight of his favorite meal. 

Goodness, this must have cost them a small fortune, the writer thought to himself while he dug into the heavenly assortment. As the meal went on, the two of you exchanged recaps of your day, the latest town gossip, and so on. It was just like every other dinner date, but in his heart, Elliott knew something was slightly off about this date, as his nose twitched throughout the dinner. 

“I propose a toast,” his ears perked up at the sound of your sweet voice. You held up your glass of wine and Elliott followed in suit, “Just like old times,” the writer mused. Elliott smiled fondly at the memory, the night he felt the spark ignite in his chest, as he proposed a toast to your friendship. The way your smile lit up the saloon, the way you merrily drank your ale, it was no surprise that Elliott fell head over heels for you. 

“I wish to toast to…” your eyes darted to the ice box, “Our love,” you lifted up the ice box, revealing an all too familiar necklace. Elliott’s jaw went slack at the necklace, the vibrant blue pendant glistening under the moonlight. You grasped the Mermaid’s Pendant and held it out to Elliott, “The moment we shared that drink in the saloon was the night I fell in love with you, Elliott. Underneath your elegant persona, I saw a man full of wonder and laughter,” tears began to swell up in the writer’s eyes, “Elliott, will you do me the greatest honor and marry me?”

“Yes!” he nearly shrieked, forgoing any restraint and practically throwing himself at you. The two of you shared a deep kiss, your hands playing with Elliott’s long ginger hair while he held you as close as he possibly could. When you finally pried yourself off one another, Elliott flashed you that million dollar smile of his and hummed, “Do you want to know something funny?”

“Of course,” you answered, eyes twinkling with curiosity. Elliott rummaged through his pockets and pulled out a small box, “I planned on proposing to you, too,” he opened the box and revealed an identical Mermaid’s Pendant. You broke out into a grin and kissed your fiancé feverishly, pulling away only to put the engagement token around Elliott’s neck. He returned the favor and stared down at your neck, his chest bubbling up with excitement. 

Guess my nose is never wrong about these sorts of things.

[venriliz]

Portia Montez for @rainymoodlet's Rock of Love Bachelor Challenge! <3

in depth info + full wardrobe below the cut! ↓

✮ Portia was born and raised in Evergeen Harbor, an industrial port town known for it's huge import/export businesses and even more so - it's heavily polluted environment especially at the shores of the sickly brown-ish sea. The early death of Portia's mother directly caused by the affects the bad air had on her health has instilled somewhat of a love-hate relationship towards Evergreen Harbor into the then 8 year old girl.

✮ Her father tried his best to raise his daughter by himself but despite his long working hours in a local shipyard the money was barely enough for them to survive, the possibilty of moving away far out of reach.

✮ Early in her youth she found her talent and passion for skateboarding, winning many prizes in junior competitions all over the country. After barley graduating from highschool (some ppl just aren't made for the educational system lol) she became a promising professional and quickly made a name for herself in the skating community all over the world. Her biggest successes were two back-to-back street skateboard world championship titles and several self-invented tricks where named after her. Life was good for Portia not only professionally but personally too after meeting Davide Montez who became not only her manager but als her husband.

✮ Sadly, as the saying goes though - nothing lasts forever and about a year ago, Portia found herself forced to retire from competing professionally because growing up in the bad environment of Evergreen Harbor finally started to catch up with her own health. Her retirement caused her marriage to suffer as well and soon after she announced the end of her career as a professional, Davide called it quits and they agreed to divorce on good terms.

✮ Now with her financial stability and free time to pursue new things, Portia took the chance and applied for the bachelor challenge to win Jackson Roth's heart. This is mostly thanks to her friends pressuring her to try after catching her gawking at one of the billboards with Jackson's photo on it (i mean HELLO?! he's hawt! °-° she just... doesn't like the music lol). Portia is (somewhat) ready for a new adventure and maybe, just maybe she'll find love again! <3

likes:

colors: orange, red, black music: electronica, hip hop, latin characteristics: family-oriented, hardworking, idealistic convo topics: flirting, deep thoughts, affection, talking about hobbies fashion: rocker, streetwear activities: fitness, dancing, wellness, rock climbing decor: industrial, mid-century

dislikes:

music: metal, cottagecore, ranch characteristics: egotistical, argumentative, ambitionless convo topics: evil interactions, arguing, gossip fashion: polished, country activities: fishing, cooking, mischief decor: farmhouse, cute

wardrobe: