#latrine scene

[sga-mcshep-4ever]

It didn't work! It didn't work!" "It is still unclear." "What's unclear? Either it worked or it didn't." "They are trying to determine—" "Okay. Okay. They're everywhere!" "You are experiencing a hallucination." "Oh, my God."

[megaclubdiolis]

🤍

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

As someone whose job basically boils down to getting unglamorous but necessary things done behind the scenes, I’d love for us to spare a moment of appreciation for some truly unsung heroes of LOTR: the folks who supplied and supported a whole damn army on the move with only a few day’s notice.

The people who stocked and raised all the tents. Whoever was keeping soldiers in dry socks and sharpened swords. The folks (not Éowyn) who cooked the stews each night and cleaned up all the food. The person who had to make all the arrangements for thousands of horses to be kept in any kind of organized fashion with no barn or stable. The unhappy soul who had to dig and maintain the latrines anywhere the army was camped.

Logistics aren’t sexy, but damn are they important. Without them, half your army has dysentery and the other half is contemplating desertion. So good on these people—the victory over Sauron belongs to them, too.

[sfehvn]

home

Description: Astarion left twenty years earlier, after defeating the elder brain, in search of a cure for his vampiric condition. Tav has not been coping well. A/N: A little angsty, alcohol abuse and Tav being overly-sexual in hopes of feeling some comfort in Astarion's absence; if you aren't comfortable with that you may want to skip this one! Also eludes to Tav being a sorcerer elf, but nothing is explicitly stated. Enjoy! :) Rating: M (18+ minors DNI) Word count: 2,438 Characters: Astarion x Tav

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  The gnawing sensation that remained deep-seated in your gut had all but dwindled. Nights filled with booze and meaningless sex did little to appease the hunger that twisted your insides viscerally. That damned vampire had only been in your life for but the slightest fraction. Somehow, he utterly rewired your brain's chemistry in such a minuscule time frame.

  “So that’s it then? You’re leaving after everything we’ve been through. Just like that?” The bitterness that dripped from every syllable was palpable as you spoke. An air of disgust and heartbreak hung between you and Astarion.

  He remained silent, the cogs of his mind turning while his face remained unreadable. “I will return for you, Tav. I swear it. I must do this alone.”

  The scene dissipates into the back of your otherwise empty mind. You had waited. Waited patiently for the return of your lover; spent years willfully ignorant to the fact that he had wholly left you. Two decades came and went before the realization sunk into the essence of your being. He was just gone. The many conquests that filled your bed were always reminiscent of him in at least one way, though you were never able to quench that desire. A white-haired man sits before you, telling fantastical stories, no doubt with the intention of bedding you. You would let him, of course. As he speaks, hands moving with a pristine emphasis of his tales, you can only discern the differences from your once-lover. His locks share the same silver hue but are much too short compared to Astarion’s. Soft tufts of curls are nowhere in sight; the stranger’s hair is pin-straight. The longer you listen to him speak, the more you coin him a prick. The ego wasn’t far from your lover’s, but it was without the redeeming charm you had grown to love.

  Despite all of this, you would still follow him to bed, or perhaps a latrine is more this man’s prerogative. Either way, you hoped you could squint your eyes just enough to forget the differences and see a glimpse of Astarion instead. 

  “Riveting as this conversation is,” You cut the stranger off, and your hand sits on his arm seductively. “I speculate we may get on better in private. Naked.” The pungent scent of alcohol is unmistakable. If it were a decent man before you, he may have chivalrously rejected your advances for fear of taking advantage. This was no decent man, though; he proves it by taking your hand in his and standing from the bar. You had been right about the latrine. He props you against the wall in the outhouse and has his wicked way with you. Your mind is numb as he pounds mindlessly into your mound. You squeeze your eyes shut, and try as you might, your lover is not present in the moment. Instead, you feel dirty, used, and ashamed. 

  You allow the man to finish, as it only took him a measly two minutes. You had counted. You didn’t bother faking your own orgasm. This one didn’t care. You adjusted your dress until its hem fell to your ankles. “When can I see you again?” He asks. You brush past him wordlessly. His shameless contention is not lost on you as a distasteful ‘bitch’ elicits from his mouth. You pay your tab and start your trek back home. 

  “Why, though? We’re a team! I told you I’d help you find a cure, Astarion. Please don’t leave me.” Painful tears sting at your eyes, once filled with so much sunshine and radiance. There had even been a touch of naivety to you at that time in your life.

  “I don’t want you to.” Astarion was sharp, pointed with his words. “You deserve a break. Months of leading a group of brain-wormed buffoons; you need it. It won’t take me long, and I will be back. I’ll always come back for you.” He reiterates.

  The possibility of death was not unfounded. The bitter truth was brutal to swallow but did not subdue your anger. If death were his fate, you could have saved him as you had many times before. It was entirely preventable if the case; he was just too stubborn to see it. Radiance of wealth exuded from your residence; nothing but the best for the hero of Baldur’s Gate. You scoffed. How trivial these things were when you did not have a soul to share it with. Your friends had all gone their separate ways, aside from Wyll and Karlach, who had come to find a happy union together among their time spent so closely in Avernus. Gale had forged a family with a lovely lady from Rivington and now had two children barely into adulthood, himself somewhat up there in age. Lae’Zel wasn’t the best at keeping in touch, but last you had heard, she was off kicking ass like always. Surprisingly, Shadowheart visited you as regularly as she could, but that was still seldom.

  All of your old traveling companions had gone on to do great things in their own ways. You were happy for them, you really were, but it’d be a lie if you didn’t admit there was some part of you that envied them. Envied the fulfillment they found within themselves, in the love they discovered in other people. All you had to show for yourself was a house too big for you alone to maintain and, admittedly, a bit of a drinking problem. You grumble as you fight to get the key into the lock of the front door, eager to wash the escapades from earlier off your body. 

  You slink into the tub's warm water, allowing the liquid to engulf you as you stare at the wall absently. What would you be today if Astarion was at your side? It was a question you had asked yourself a million times over. Probably not the calloused person you became. Not living off of any alcohol you could get your hands on, certainly. Recalling the abandonment made a lump rise in your throat, and you quickly choked it down. No, you would not spill another tear for the man who had left. You would not.

  You couldn’t.

  You stare at the nearly empty whiskey bottle across the room, but you are sure there is at least enough for a little glass left in it. You refrain from pulling out of the tub with the sole purpose of pouring that glass and instead scrub your body clean. Relief floods over you once you’ve successfully washed off the remnants of the stranger. His seed had stuck to your stomach like a paste when he pulled out, and the way it dried and tightened over your skin had made you want to vomit. You only exit the round tub once you’ve washed your hair. With your silk robe tied loosely around your body, chest exposed, you make a beeline for the whiskey glass that had been teasing you from across the room. A sigh of contempt leaves your mouth when a single drop drips out into your glass. You recap it and debate tossing it, but decide that will be a problem for future you. You take the candle that lit the washroom and shuffle into the hall, holding it far enough in front of you to provide adequate light through the long, dark corridor. The sound of creaking floorboards halts you in your tracks. The sound did not come from beneath your feet, but instead downstairs. Your ears strain in an attempt to make out any other noises. Another creak this time closer to the bottom of your stairs. 

  You blow out the candle and a quiet incantation for darkvision leaves your lips. There was no fear, whatever sorry bastard chose your home to break into would surely change their tune once they’re at the other end of one of your spells. Suddenly more alert and prepared for whoever emerged, you felt yourself sober as the adrenaline coursed your veins. As quickly as you’re able to make out a faint silhouette bounding up the stairs, another hymn leaves your lips. 

  “Ignis.” 

  A firebolt protrudes from the palm of your outstretched hand, bounding quicker for the stranger than they can respond. A searing sounds as it bores straight through the uninvited guest’s clothing, sizzling with now charred flesh. They groan in agony, the silhouette clutching at their injured chest. “You’re quite lucky I like a good chat, or you’d be dead already. Who are you and why are you in my home?” Your voice was unwavering and void of any emotion other than conviction. 

  “Well, I’d be lying if I say I’m surprised. I do suppose I set myself up for this one, darling. Always the sharp-shooter, you are.” The man attempts a laugh, but it’s lost under the pain in his voice. That voice.

  His voice.

  Forgotten under a sea of other voices, but you place his cadence immediately. You want to run to him, feel the way his arms fit so naturally around your body, let your lips fall upon his. Your first instincts are quickly replaced with anger. Betrayal. You wanted to hurl another firebolt at him; hells, a fireball would’ve been better but you bite it back. You were angry, but becoming homeless after burning your home down was not something you were prepared to deal with. With a small flick of your wrist, you light the sconces that line the hall and you’re met with the illuminated sight of Astarion. He looks not a day older from the last time you had seen him, dare you say he looked even better.

  There’s a tinge of color to his flesh, like he’d been kissed by the morning sun many days over. There was a pink hugh to his skin, reminiscent of fresh blood pumping from a beating heart. Your own skips a beat at the picture of him before you. He was alive. Alive alive. Gone are the ruby-red eyes you had grown to love, replaced with eyes as golden as fresh honey shimmering in the light. You chew the inside of your cheek in an attempt to fight back your tears. Your face remains unchanged despite the flurry of emotions assaulting your brain and heart. “Why are you in my home?” You repeat, as if you had no recollection of the man before you. 

  Astarion’s features reflect the hurt that he feels from your reaction but quickly he masks it. “Not exactly the welcome-home I was imagining, if I’m telling the truth. This is quite the place you’ve got. I’m pleasantly shocked at how well of a job you did decorating, dear. Though I will probably have to make a few adjustments-”

  “Twenty years.” You whisper incredulously, cutting Astarion from his rambling stupor.

  “I’m sorry?” 

  “Twenty years, Astarion!” You shout. You’re no longer able to hold back the floodgates in your eyes. They prick unforgivingly, threatening to pool over onto flushed cheeks. “Twenty years you were gone! And here you are, acting like nothing happened; acting like not a day has passed since we’ve last spoke!” You wipe the tears from your face, angrily laughing that your emotions had betrayed you so. “You don’t even know who I am anymore and you think for a second I’ll allow you in a position to hurt me again?” 

  Astarion is taken aback by the furious passion that laces your every word. The wound he had been nursing with his hand is abandoned as he attempts to step closer, but you take a swift step back. “It had to be done, Tav. The journey to get where I am today was an arduous one. One that I was not willing to ask you to take with me.”

  Your jaw clenches, and there’s no time to collect yourself before you respond. “You didn’t have to ask. I told you I would have followed you through the hells if it meant being with you.” You practically spit the words. 

  “I wouldn’t allow that.”

  “Gods, Astarion! Are you so dense that you don’t see it wasn’t your decision to make regarding what is best for me?” The venom is thick in your tone. “Maybe I would be some semblance of the same person you abandoned all those years ago if I had at least gotten to say goodbye. Perhaps if you had sent a letter I’d be a little more forthcoming with you right now.” 

  “It was not my intention to abandon you.” He quips back, but sees it was the wrong thing to say as the fire burns brighter behind your eyes. “Against my better judgement I guess that is what I did. Only because I couldn’t fathom saying goodbye to you. I-” He pauses for a beat. “I thought it may make things easier on you, too.”

  The laugh that leaves your mouth was a chortle, filled with malice and sarcasm. You grasped for anyway to hurt him in the way he hurt you, “Well you ruined me, Astarion.”

  “I did not, you look-”

  “Looks are deceiving. I would figure you know that by now. For example, just by looking at me you probably can’t tell I drank my weight in whiskey today. Or yesterday. Or the day before.” You purse your lips. “You probably can’t tell that I allowed a bastard of a man to open my legs and fuck me simply because he shared your hair color just earlier in the evening. Or that a tenday ago I fucked another man who’s laugh almost made me believe you were there. Only for a moment, of course.” There was shame in your words and you wanted to cry harder as you voiced all of the ways you had failed to care for yourself. The desire to make him feel what you felt was too great. You wanted him to hate you the way you had grown to despise him.

  His arms pulled you firmly against him, his head ducking to bury his face into your wet hair. You soften under his touch, allowing yourself to go limp as he holds you. Guilt eats at Astarion’s subconscious as you cry into his shirt. It didn’t matter if you tried to push him away. It didn’t matter what you had done to cope with his absence. He was home and he was going to prove to you that he was not going anywhere ever again. Everything he had gone through in the past twenty years, he had powered through with the thought of making it home.

  You were his home.

[tadpolesonalgae]

Moon Cycle

Dark!Rhysand x reader

a/n: this goes along with desk pet and play-mate 🧡💛

warnings: menstruation, mentions of non-con, references to play-mate, fluff (kind of?), hurt/comfort?

word count: 2,501

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You wake to waves of heat rolling off your skin in wet waves, feeling damp and hyper-sensitive to temperature.

A single shift of your body, and you can feel the slickness between your thighs, far too spread out to be the results of his occasional midnight trips. You swallow thickly, heart thumping heavily as the first aches blossom through the right side of your abdomen, legs bending at the knees in attempts to relieve tension, but to little relief.

Gritting your teeth, trying to calm your pulse, you push back the blanket, keeping it as far from your legs as possible, hoping to keep the carnage to a minimum. Even in the dark the bloody patches are clear to see, eyes already well-adjusted to pick out the dry stains on the previously fluffy fur. Fear dilutes your scent, and as quietly as possible you attempt to roll from the floor bed, pulling the already-bloody blanket close should more begin to drip down your thighs.

Thankfully the blood hasn’t yet passed your knees, but now you’re upright you can feel things shifting, a wave of heat and nausea suctioning the strength from your muscles. On wobbly feet you tiptoe from the bed chambers, praying to the Mother you don’t wake him, fearing for your life as prey does near its hunter—a beast raised to kill.

You manage to make it to the large washroom, immediately dropping the blanket in favour of the roll beside the latrine, hastily tearing a sizeable few sheets away to fold up and place between your legs, temporarily buying you time to clean the murder scene on your inner thighs. Easing in a breath, you pull off the shorts, heading over to the basin, never having been more grateful for the instant water, turning on the cold tap as you attempt to rub the stains free.

Minutes later and you’re still scrubbing, aware of the blanket at your back that’s still caked in blood, so you push it into the empty bath, running cold water as silently as possible in the hopes of beginning to loosen the grip of the blood while you deal with the shorts. After a while you realise it’s the best it’s going to get, ringing the now off-white cotton over the side of the basin, refocusing to your thighs.

Fatigue weighs heavily on your body, eyes wishing to close but adrenaline keeps you awake and alert, moving through the familiar motions of removing more of the latrine roll and dampening it under cold water, dabbing at the dried stains, dislodging the grip it has on your skin. Aches become more prominent, a fresh wave of heat sweeping through you and you want to cry—but there’s no time for that. Instead you continue working on rubbing your skin clean, easing away the dark redness that’s blotchy and stubborn to move.

At last you’re free, and you turn to the blanket, having been left to soak for a while. You try layering roll over the stains in attempt to absorb the colour, but it seems firmly lodged in, and you don’t want to rub it which will result in pushing the stains deeper, only spreading them. You glance around the bathroom, finding twisted gratitude for Rhys’ luxurious taste. It’s not perfect, but it’s worth a try.

You reach for the powdered bath salts, drying your hands before tapping out some of the fine dust over the afflicted area, hoping it will do the trick. Your pulse kicks up, and you find yourself searching for something to do instead of anxiously waiting. You’ll have to find something to put on your lower half, but he rarely lets you know where clothing is kept—it’s rare enough you’re even allowed night robes since he sees no point in hiding your body.

Panic thrums beneath your skin, and you briefly consider a trip down to the kitchen where there must be vinegar, and if you’re lucky, something else acidic, like a lemon or two. But then you would risk waking him, and the thought of him finding out the mess you’ve made is—

“I knew you’d pretty in blood,” a sultry voice drawls from the doorway.

You spin around weakly, hands dropping between your thighs so he won’t be able to see the roll you’ve neatly folded up. His violet eyes flick about the bathroom with analytical care, cataloguing the displacement of various items. A fresh ache blooms in your thighs, and you find your back hunching, having to support yourself on the basin, fear making you sick.

His attention settles on you, and you feel like hot coals are being pressed to your bare flesh, trembling beneath his cold gaze. Soft, sensual lips part, about to speak, and the terror slices deeper, making you stumble, loosing your grip on the marble. The world spins, and you brace for the racket of pain that will undoubtedly burst through your spine and skull, yet the impact never comes.

He hisses, powerful arms wrapped around your body, holding you securely flush to his chest. Your muscles lock at the proximity, able to feel his gaze boring into your cheek, but your eyes are squeezed shut, lips parted as bubbles of pressure push up from your abdomen, glistening along your hip. Rhys stiffens, hearing the shallow breaths, aware of how little you’re resisting his touch, how greatly you’re struggling to even stand on your own.

You flutter in and out, lower stomach throbbing and it’s all you can do to keep your feet on the floor, unable to fully support yourself, remaining in his intrusive hold.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He asks lowly, grip tight on your shoulder, able to scent your fear. Enjoying it a little more than usual.

“I didn’t know it was happening tonight or I would have prepared better,” you mumble snappily, legs trembling as you force yourself to stand, one palm settling over the pain, the other braced against the basin. Rhys chuckles lowly, pressing himself flush against your bare back, arms wrapping snuggly around your waist, fingers grazing the soft skin of your stomach. “Where do you think you’re going?” He muses, tracing feather-light patterns over your abdomen.

“I need…I need to clean the pallet,” you mutter, unable to raise your attention from the floor, palm still attempting to soothing the cramping.

Rhys hums nonchalantly, but you could hear the wicked grin on his lover’s mouth from the next room over, discomfort zipping across your skin, squirming beneath his touch, only a thin layer of cotton between you—likely the thinnest he could have made. “But you’ve woken me up now,” he reminds, hot lips brushing the shell of your ear, and you shiver with disgust.

You’re prepared to plead for disuse for the rest of the night, but he’s raising you into his arms, easily sweeping you off your feet and you struggle weakly. “Rhys, I can’t,” you whisper sharply, hands locked over the broad width of his shoulders, bare and hot beneath your fingertips. “You can’t— You’ll tear me apart,” you plead quietly, stiffening when violet flicks to you.

He carries you over to his bed, setting you down, pallet having vanished and he pulls away. “I don’t think I will,” he replies, smiling faintly in the now candle-lit room, and you’re thankful he hasn’t turned to the faelights. “You’re far too valuable to be wrecked in a single night,” he drawls, bringing your knuckles to his cruelly soft mouth. You hiss at him weakly, hardly able to pull away—as if that’s something you’re normally capable of.

But then he’s turning away, humming a deep, rich tune from his chest, turning to a chest of drawers and pulling something out: a new pair of shorts. Skimpier than the last, but you can’t be picky here. What it takes you a moment to notice is the linen lining the crotch, thick padding that will be suitable for your first night. His sensual lips stretch in a feline grin, “you didn’t think I was going to fuck you while you were bleeding did you, little lamb?”

Humiliation flushes your body, shame sitting thick at the back of your throat and you duck your head, unable to fight on two fronts with your body trying to tear you apart. He laughs lowly, dropping the shorts onto your stomach, watching as you try to wriggle into them with as much dignity as possible. “It wouldn’t be the first time you’d done something so immoral,” you manage to reply, though your voice lacks its usual venom, tender from embarrassment. He hums, the sound settling low in your stomach as he walks to the other side of the bed.

While his back is turned, you reach down to remove the latrine roll sheets you’d folded up. But they vanish from your fingers.

“And I can assure you it won’t be the last,” he muses silkily, settling close to your side, moving with that lethal silence again, cat-soft paws carrying him like a ghost. You flinch from his proximity, huddling deeper into your clothes in attempts to hide from his overwhelming presence. “I wasn’t doubting you,” you whisper hoarsely, causing his smile to widen by a fraction, eyes gleaming with hunger and you quickly look away, disinclined to tempt the beast before you.

“Finally starting to get a hang of it,” he murmurs, settling on his back, pulling the covers up over the two of you, and you initially stiffen from the touch of his sheets, imbued with his scent. So crisp and clean.

You turn on your side, anxious to be as far from him as possible, confused by the curve-ball he’s thrown tonight. A few moments later the candles extinguish, and you flinch as he rolls to his side, arms wrapping around your waist almost delicately, dragging you back to be tucked into his body. You don’t dare ask what he’s doing, fear already present in your bloodstream before he’s nosing at your throat.

Shock zaps through you when he drags the tip of his tongue across the skin, teeth nipping softly soon after, and you shudder. Despite him suggesting he wouldn’t touch you tonight, a deep sense of unease crawls below your flesh, wriggling and squirming like worms in mud. You flinch when his palm flattens over your stomach, the tremors becoming more pronounced, knowing the intensity of pain he could inflict at any second. Yet heat warms your abdomen, sinking into you with soothing grace, instantly easing the pressure contained beneath your skin.

“I can’t have my favourite thing suffering, now can I?” He muses quietly beside your ear, nipping lightly at the lobe. “What sort of High Lord would that make me if I didn’t take care of my subjects? Is there anything else you want?” You tremble in his arms, confused and afraid, unsure whether you can take him at face value tonight—he hadn’t seemed angry despite the blood staining the no-doubt expensive bedding. Maybe he just doesn’t care.

“What are you playing at?” You breathe weakly, aches slightly soothed from the heat of the water bottle, thighs pressing together, curling closer to your stomach, his palm keeping the heat pressed against your skin. “I’m capable of not playing with you, lamb,” he says, lips curving into a smirk as they brush the side of your throat, making your toes curl. “As much as I’m against it.”

“You’re disgusting,” you hiss, pathetically trying to wriggle from his hold, making him hum approvingly. “We both know you love it,” he croons, kissing up your neck. “Love being my perfect little toy.” Mortification burns across your skin, wild heat fluttering through your flesh at the reminder of the crude things he’d manipulated you into saying. “That was under duress,” you whisper, flushing intensely, “it means nothing.”

“It means nothing?” He hums, able to hear the mirth in his voice, free hand gliding up your sternum to brush his fingers over your collar bones. “Then why are you so embarrassed?”

“You’re being crass,” you hiss, shaky hands trying to push his away from your abdomen—you can hold the water bottle by yourself. “Am I?” He grins, and you flinch when his fingers interleaf with your own, trapped in his grip even as you try to pull away. “I could be much worse, if it would help distract you.”

“Stop it,” you say, wriggling uncomfortably. “I want you to leave me alone.”

“That’s cruel,” he remarks casually, teeth grazing sensitive skin. “I was hoping you’d ask for something nicer. No warm milk? Heated blanket?” You seethe, shifting enough to shoot him with a heated glare. “That’s vile.”

He pauses, blinking once as your eyes lock, before his features fill with barely suppressed laughter. Disgust squirms beneath your flesh at his lightheartedness. “You’re a fucking psycho,” you mutter, making to turn your back on him again, but his hand skates higher, forearm pressing between your breasts as he grips your jaw, forcing your to face him, fingers biting into your cheeks. “You’re the one whose mind was in the gutter. I was offering genuine help,” he drawls atop your mouth, able to feel as you suck in a sharp inhale at his sudden proximity. Embarrassment flushes your skin as you realise your mistake, eyes widening marginally.

“Of course,” he murmurs, sensuous lips curving in a suggestive tilt. “If you’d like that…” Violet seems to gleam with wicked delight at the shock on your features, quick to scrunch with forced disgust. “You’re an unloveable monster, Rhys.”

“I know,” he whispers, before pressing his mouth to your own, hot and wet. His admission is washed away as his tongue dips in, velvet soft as it strokes against your own.

You hiss as arousal blossoms unfairly in your abdomen, clashing with the glistening aches that are plucking across your thighs and stomach, pulling away from him forcefully, breathing heavily as you curl tighter, desperate to alleviate the pain.

“You know,” he murmurs close to your ear, “we could try something else.” You stiffen as his fingers tease the band of your shorts, lightly snapping it against your hip, careful to avoid the source of your pain. A strangled whimper breaks from your lungs, squeezing your eyes shut, hands clutching his crisp and clean sheets tight, preparing for him to inflict his cruelty.

Yet to your surprise he’s quiet, skin prickling as his attention brushes over your cheek. Then he hums softly, hand drawing away as he settles at your back, the bare heat of his chest warming you, body draped over your own, pulling you closer so you’re tucked against the powerful lines of him. Allowing you time to rest.

You remain tense, conditioned to expect violation, but his hands remain still, the only movement being his thumbs, oscillating in slow, smooth motions.

“Relax,” he murmurs, nosing at the crown of your head. “Rest for tonight.”

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general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644

rhys taglist: @azrielshadows1nger

[nedlittle]

something so hauntological about watching mash season 3 knowing how it ends...none of the characters know henry's never going to make it home, the actors all found out in real time. but the narrative knows how this ends, and the narrative is waiting with an open mouth. so the narrative has henry prefigure his own death throughout the season. in o.r. when hawkeye reassures him one day you're gonna have to go back and die in your bed in bloomington, henry says that he's done that several times. he complains in private charles lamb that everything in this country disappears except me (untrue) followed by boy, would i like to wake up some morning, look down and find myself gone (true). when he gets trapped in the wreckage of the latrine in bombed he knocks twice for "dead" rather than three times for "alive." then there's the scene in the consultant where he soaks in the pool, calling it heaven but says the water could be just a titch warmer (burning burning burning), avoiding conversation with frank by submerging himself underwater. henry spends the whole season unknowingly rehearsing his impending death. he goes around camp trying on other people's deaths for size, haunting the narrative before he's even out of it.

in conclusion:

[tribbetherium]

'In nature, nothing is wasted. Even the repulsive leavings one animal produces are a treasure for deteitivores and re-enters the food web to in turn nourish many others. Thus, as a large foraging badgebear deposits its droppings onto the forest floor of the temperate woodlands of Gestaltia and departs without a second thought, a cleanup crew quietly gathers to exploit the bounty left behind.

While small dipteran flies hovering about the heap and opportunistic beetles hauling off large pieces in rolled-up balls are perhaps an expected sight, a more surprising guest to the scene is a very unsusual member of the burrowurm family known as the rootbrutes: the chupacrappa (Vermiosauromys purgamentophilus) which, while also feeding on roots when burrowing underground and on other plant detritus in the leaf litter, also takes advantage of well-used latrines of the forest's various herbivores, which it locates by scent. Its scoop-like fore-claws, useful for shoveling through dirt as it burrows, also allow it to pick apart and rummage through a dropping for the choicest bits of undigested plant matter, in particular seeds that have been deposited in the animal's leavings, which it cracks with its powerful incisors.

While this may sound disadvantageous to the plants that produce those excreted seeds, some have actually adapted to exploit this rattile's unusual diet. Some of the plants produce numerous tiny seeds contained within a larger pod that itself can be mistaken for a large seed within the fruit. Once a large herbivore has eaten the fruit and excreted the pods, they may often be in turn eaten again, and the pod broken down in turn to release the seeds the second time they are excreted by their final host. So specialized are some, that the seeds will not sprout until they have been stimulated twice by the passage through digestive enzymes: only germinating once they have been inside both a badgebear and a chupacrappa and then out again.'

-----

[nthewriter]

(That man is the most BEAUTIFUL out of the 141 omg I love him so freaking much!! Look at him!!! People needs to write more about him and not just in poly stuff)

TW: misogyny

Okay, Gaz thought you were a bitch.

Always getting in fights with him, arguing going on borderline flirting.

But unlike most men in this kind of field, Gaz also recognised your capacities. You could handle yourself pretty well everywhere on the battlefield, after all, you were a lieutenant. He did believe you were the female counterparts of Ghost. And he stopped counting the moments you both saved each other asses on missions and deployment. Yes, you two were often in disagreement but that didn't stop the both of you to be able to work well together.

So having a colonel walking by the two of you as you were headed to the training ground, discussing about the next OP (arguing could be the right word) said how lucky the 141 were to have a barracks bunny, he lost it.

He stopped dead in his tracks, turning to take a look at the man, sending off a harsh glare. Tilting his head, he called up to the colonel.

"Excuse me mate, what the fuck did you say?"

Gaz knew it was risky, because that man up in the hierarchy. Captain Price would surely have his head for his, for confronting the prick about the disgusting words. The colonel smirked, liking the defiance and anger on Gaz's face.

"I said how you bunch were lucky to have a pretty little thing to warm your beds at night." The man snorted with a dirty smile and glint in his eyes.

(Y/N) wasn't reacting. She stood there, in a calm way. Gaz was boiling with anger, he didn't understand why she wasn't protesting or saying anything. She then sighed and looked at Gaz, shaking her head.

"Come on, Garrick, it's not worth it." She finally spoke up. After all, she already had been through that bullshit when she enlisted.

"No that's not okay! You need to report this."

"Kyle please- don't make a scene-" The lieutenant almost begged, trying to grip his arm.

"Yeah boy, shut up and mount the bitch up." The man snickered before Kyle marched up and punched him straight in the face, broking his nose and some teeth out.

That's how he ended in Price's office, occupied by Laswell too. He didn’t feel sorry about knocking up colonel Whatwashisname. He sat in the chair, arms crossed over his chest as Laswell and Price started to ramble about how differently he should have acted.

Gaz didn't care. He did the right thing. Was it moral? No.

"... so we have decided, you will have to clean the latrines for a few weeks and keep a low profile. Colonel Richardson will be stationed elsewhere." Kate Laswell decided, which made Gaz perked up.

"You should have come to us first, Gaz. We're a team. We would have figured something out." Captain Price scolded like a father, staring down at the younger man. "Dismissed."

When Kyle exited the office, he found (Y/N) waiting for him, leaning across the wall. She had a guilty look on her face, and Gaz wanted to reassure her, to tell her she wasn't in trouble. They both started to walk side by side.

"It was very stupid." She said with a matter of fact voice.

"I know."

"They could have discharged you, you know? That is the stupidest thing you have ever done Garrick. That comes second when you slipped off the helicopter." (Y/N) continued as they approached the door leading to the outside ground.

"I know." He repeated.

"But it was... brave." She added with a soft tone. Her eyes found his. "Thank you."

"I don't think he will ever try to do this kind of things again. I don’t understand why you wanted me to walk away from this." Gaz wondered out loud.

"I always have been treated like that. At first I tried to fight back. But it was getting harder and harder to do so. Then I became lieutenant. They mostly spoke behind my back. I just learnt to let go." (Y/N) replied back, to which Gaz nodded in understanding.

"If- if anyone starts to give you trouble, you can come to me. I mean- it's not like you can't handle yourself." Gaz stammered out, a stupid warmth spreading on his cheeks.

She laughed at his suggestion and shook her head with a smile on her lips. Gaz's heart skipped a beat. With the sun shining upon her, she looked ethereal.

"I am not some damsel in distress Garrick. Save the hero act for the ladies at the bar." (Y/N) patted him on the shoulder, before leaving. "I expect the toilets to be clean."

[yaellaharpe-blog]

MOSAICO DE LA VILLA ROMANA DEL CASALE

(Español / English)

La Villa Romana del Casale, situada en la pintoresca localidad siciliana de Piazza Armerina, es un tesoro arqueológico que data del IV siglo d.C. Esta villa romana tardía fue incluida en la lista del Patrimonio de la Humanidad por el UNESCO en 1997.

He aquí algunos detalles fascinantes sobre la historia de esta extraordinaria residencia:

Descubrimiento casual: En el siglo XVII, los campesinos que trabajaban en los campos del alto valle del río Gela, al pie del monte Mangone, notaron numerosas estructuras de pared que emergían del suelo. Estas revelaron entonces que pertenecieron a la grandiosa villa imperial del Casale. El entusiasmo por este hallazgo atrajo la atención de muchos eruditos locales.

Mosaicos excepcionales: La Villa Romana del Casale es famosa sobre todo por su extraordinaria colección de mosaicos, perfectamente conservados en el tiempo gracias a una capa de barro causada por una antigua inundación. Estos mosaicos decoran los pisos y representan escenas mitológicas, animales, juegos y actividades diarias. Son un verdadero espectáculo para los ojos y testimonian la riqueza y el gusto artístico de la época romana.

Estructura monumental: El chalet incluye Cubículos, Vestíbulos,Peristilos, Ambulacri, Triclini, Diaete, Acueductos, Latrine y Termas. La disposición en diferentes niveles recuerda el ejemplo de la villa del emperador Tiberio en Capri. La magnificencia de los mármoles, de las columnas y de los suelos de mosaico desafía incluso la morada de Diocleciano en Split.

La Villa Romana del Casale es un viaje al pasado, un lugar donde la historia y el arte se funden en una experiencia extraordinaria. Si alguna vez tienes la oportunidad de visitarla, te recomiendo admirar estos mosaicos únicos y sumergirte en la antigua grandeza de este lugar mágico.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

MOSAIC OF THE ROMAN VILLA DEL CASALE

The Villa Romana del Casale, located in the picturesque Sicilian town of Piazza Armerina, is an archaeological treasure dating back to IV century AD. This late Roman villa has been listed as a World Heritage Site by UNESCO in 1997.

Here are some fascinating details about the history of this extraordinary residence:

Random discovery: In the XVII century, farmers working in the fields of the upper valley of the river Gela, at the foot of the mountain Mangone, noticed numerous wall structures emerging from the ground. They later revealed that they belonged to the grand imperial villa of the Casale. The enthusiasm for this discovery attracted the attention of many local scholars.

Exceptional mosaics: Villa Romana del Casale is famous for its extraordinary collection of mosaics, perfectly preserved over time thanks to a layer of mud caused by an ancient flood. These mosaics decorate the floors and represent mythological scenes, animals, games and daily activities. They are a real spectacle for the eyes and testify to the richness and artistic taste of the Roman period.

Monumental structure: The villa includes Cubicles, Vestibules, Peristili, Ambulatories, Triclini, Diaete, Aqueducts, Latrine, and Terme. The layout on different levels recalls the example of the Emperor’s villa Tiberius on Capri. The magnificence of the marbles, columns and mosaic floors defies even the abode of Diocletian in Split³.

The Villa Romana del Casale is a journey into the past, a place where history and art come together in an extraordinary experience. If you ever have the opportunity to visit it, I recommend that you admire these unique mosaics and immerse yourself in the ancient greatness of this magical place .

[trekkiehood]

Find the Word

I was tagged by both @steviewicks45 and @stars-remain2 so I'm going to do them both because I love doing this so much <3

Words: Steviewicks45: Gasp, Eyes, Walk, Blue *White Stars-Remain: Fight, Guilt, Touch, Kiss (Bonus Scene)

All scenes are from chapter two of Paint Your Smile & Hide Your Face

Gasp

It came back with roaring clarity with the realization that he couldn't breathe.  He also realized that the reason was twofold. The first being the pressure on his chest where he was being straddled by Langsmier, the second being the hands wrapped tightly around his throat.  Gale gasped, trying to force air through his restricted airways. His hands scrabbled at the grip, panic outweighing his normal complacency.  There was a shout and the sound of snow crunching beneath feet. Brady. He was probably leaving. On one hand Gale thought it was for the best, on the other the idea of being alone terrified him.  

---

Eyes

The Colonel nodded and made quick steps away. Towards the komendanture.  Gale felt like he was being led before a fire squad.  His head connected with the wall behind him, squeezing his eyes shut and delivering quick breaths out his nose.  His heart was pounding and the cold was starting to melt away.  This was all Bucky’s fault.

---

Walk

“Just tell me who it was, Buck. Then I can stop worrying about it.”  But that’s not what would happen. Either Bucky would go off halfcocked and try to enact vengeance, or he’d never let Gale out of his sight. He was already proving he was more than willing to do the latter.  He meant to express that. Explain that Bucky finding out would do more harm than good. Reasonably lay out the facts and get Bucky to understand best that he could.  Instead what came out of his mouth was a seething: “Stay out of my business. If I wanted you to know, I’d tell you. Leave it.”  The words had left quicker than Gale could stop him. The only thing he could do was walk away quickly, latrine forgotten. Bucky wouldn’t retaliate in front of the men. Probably. He just had to get back to the bunkroom. 

---

*White (It's the only color word I could find...)

“Into the winter wonderland.” Bucky commented before leading the way out of the barrack.  It was warmer than it had been the previous day. The snow had started to melt, leaving a thick sludge instead of fluffy white snow.  “We need to shovel this before it freezes again.” Bucky rolled his eyes. “Can’t you take a nice stroll without thinking about what needs to be done.”  Gale bit back his answer, opting to remain silent. No. He couldn’t. Bucky had made it clear that he’d rather wallow in self-pity than take a leadership role here. So Gale would have to shoulder it for both of them. 

---

Fight + Guilt

John came forward, grabbing Gale by the shoulders. “Buck, look at me.” He gave a firm shake. “I don’t know what’s going on with you but you’ve got to talk to me. Whatever you’re bottling up, it's killing you. Just talk to me.” He shoved him away, taking the smallest pride in the way Bucky stumbled back. He wanted to lash out. Wanted to fight. A part of him knew that it wasn’t Bucky who he wanted to make bleed, but he couldn’t strike at who he wanted without getting shot. It was taking all of his self control to not come in swinging and Bucky seemed determined to push him past his limit for tolerance.  “You think you’re proving that you’re fine? Is that what you think you’re doing?” He stepped back up until the two majors were face to face. “All you’re doing is proving that I was right to go to the Colonel.”

A twig snapped free from the fire inside of him, igniting every last fiber of his being. His fist came up, aiming for his cheek but landing closer to his nose. Blood made an appearance, John’s hand rising to meet it.  Bucky had never looked so surprised. Guilt should come now. It probably was buried in there somewhere. But all Gale felt in the moment was satisfaction. Relief. Release.  “Stay out of my business, Egan. I’m not telling you again.”

---

Touch

The Colonel sighed. “I want you to think for a moment, Buck. If you found out that one of your men was being mistreated, hurt, how would you feel?”  He'd feel awful. He'd want to know so he could take care of it. He'd want to make sure that they were okay.  But that's not what this was. He wasn't some private who needed to be cared for. He could take care of himself. He'd been doing so his entire life. He didn't need people in his business. Didn’t need them to know the way Langsmier’s touch seemed to linger on his skin. He didn't need people knowing. He didn't need his friends getting hurt because of him.

---

Bonus because I did not have kiss or anything resembling it <3

“Buck.”  Gale flinched back at the hand on his shoulder. Buck's exhaustion was the only thing keeping Brady from having a bloody nose.  What was the kid even doing here? He probably came to yell at him about hurting Bucky. He probably deserved it.  “You should come to dinner. You didn't come to lunch and Bu- I wanted to make sure you came to dinner.”  Bucky. Still looking after him. Still trying to take care of him. Sending Brady to try and keep Buck from lashing out again. The softness of the gesture was mixed with the petulant inner thought of “at least he actually noticed.” 

No pressure tagging: @youokaybucky @heretoobsessstuff @joeyalohadream

Your words: Run, hate, help, tired

(If you saw me misspell my own OCs name no you didn't I haven't edited it yet and I'm just throwing letters out there)

[aliciax3]

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

This was my fate; giving in to your lips, to your eyes.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Joe Liebgott x Female Reader (18+)

Warnings: Explicit - 18+, unprotected sex

Summary:

You finally give in to your attraction to Joe Liebgott.

Notes:

There's a lead in to the smut, and a little fluff sprinkled at the end, but this is basically just a detailed sex scene. So if that's your thing, read on. ;)

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Toccoa, 1942

Joe Liebgott: the sexiest of all of the Easy Company boys; in your humble opinion, anyway. All of the boys flirted with you, but you only had eyes for him. Unfortunately, when you joined the paratroops as the only woman, you promised yourself you wouldn't get involved with anyone. The last thing you needed was to only be seen as someone's play thing in a man's world.

So even though Joe seemed to be interested in you, too, you tried to make sure that you were never alone together. Because you knew that the second you were, you would jump on him. Even just sitting next to him created so much sexual tension; you hoped it wasn't obvious. You tried to even act like he annoyed you so that no one would know the truth. And you had been doing pretty well so far, until one day...

"Latrine duty!" Sobel yelled, half looking like he enjoyed assigning it. "Let's see... Liebgott!"

You glanced over at Joe who was grunting and rolling his eyes at being called on, but then you continued on with what you were doing. It hadn't occurred to you to be worried about who else Sobel was going to call.

"And..." Sobel continued as he looked around for his next victim. "Y/l/n!"

Your eyes widened, and your first instinct was to glance back at Liebgott, but he was already looking at you this time, with a big smirk on his face. Oh no...

You quickly shuffled over to Sobel. "Captain Sobel, permission to speak, sir?"

"Denied. Latrine duty. Now."

"Yes, sir..." You sighed as Sobel walked away, and Joe came up beside you, smiling.

"Let's go, buddy. Duty calls." Joe winked and put his arm around your shoulder.

You glared at him with a dirty look, causing him to take his arm back.

"Lighten up, dollface. I don't know why you hate me so much, but I plan to have that changed by the end of the day." He smirked.

Outwardly, you rolled your eyes, but in your head you were telling him that you only hate him for making you want him so badly.

The two of you grabbed the cleaning supplies and then made your way to the latrine. When you arrived, you made sure to set some ground rules.

"You start on that side, I'll start on that side, and we'll meet in the middle. And then we'll do the shower," you said as you pointed around the room. "Just stay out of my way."

"Suit yourself, but I bet by the time we're done here, you'll be begging me to come closer." He winked again.

You rolled your eyes yet again. "Don't flatter yourself."

As you were cleaning, Joe started singing for awhile, and then started going on and on about some comic book he's read.

"Do you ever shut up?" You finally asked from the bathroom stall next to him.

"Maybe if you ask nicely."

"Okay. Please shut up?"

"Would you really prefer to work in complete silence?" He asked.

"I'd rather work listening to the voice in my head than listen to yours." The truth was, you loved his voice. And it was driving you crazy in all the ways you didn't need.

"Damn, you are ruthless. I like that in a girl."

You could hear him smiling through his words, but you decided to ignore him. The next few minutes were spent in silence, but all you could think about were all the ways you could keep his mouth busy, and you found yourself deep in a sexual fantasy. You shook yourself out of it when he spoke again.

"Well, I'm done here. I'll start on the shower." He began whistling on his way to the other side of the room.

Shortly after, you finished your last stall and made your way to help him. You took a deep breath when you approached. You started on the opposite side of the shower from him, taking your time on each knob and shower head, not in a rush to meet him in the middle. He was still whistling, but you didn't bother saying anything. After awhile, you didn't even notice it; you were too busy picturing the two of you in the shower together, with his hands and his lips all over your body. You were snapped out of it, though, when you two bumped into each other.

"Oh, sorry, doll." Joe said as you leaned your back onto the shower wall to get out of his way. But he didn't move. He just smirked as he stood face to face with you. You were basically holding your breath and he was so close to you that he noticed.

"Am I making you nervous?" He smirked again; his lips just inches from yours.

In that moment, you lost all self control, and grabbed his face with your hands as you pressed your lips together for the first time. The two of you began kissing passionately, and you moved your hands to wrap your arms around his neck while his hands made their way to your hips. He pressed himself into you, and you could feel the already hardening bulge in his pants so you pulled him even closer to you, causing him to groan onto your lips. You were about to get carried away when you heard Sobel's voice from the entrance to the latrine.

"Time's up, privates!"

Luckily you couldn't be seen from the doorway, but you were both jolted out of the kiss and tried to hurriedly pull yourselves together.

Sobel continued as he approached, "You will stand at attention for inspection."

You both did as you were told without looking at each other. Once Sobel approved of the job you did, he reminded you that it was time for dinner. You had no desire to eat; you only had one thing on your mind: getting Joe alone. The two of you walked in silence to put the cleaning supplies back. Joe was the first one to speak.

"So... do you want to go have dinner?"

You looked at him and nodded "no" and then whispered in his ear as you grabbed the waistband of his pants, "I'd rather have you."

You smiled at him and began walking towards your quarters. It was lucky that you were the only girl, and therefore got a room to yourself. It took a second for Joe to move, due to the shock of what you were doing, but then he started jogging after you. You started running and kept looking back at him and smiling as he was following you to your room. When you reached the door, you stopped and turned around and made a "come here" motion with your finger. You were both smiling as he ran up to you. When he reached you, he leaned in for a kiss, but you opened the door and backed inside with a grin on your face. His matching grin seemed to imply that he was enjoying your playfulness. You were standing in the middle of the room waiting for him as he closed the door behind him, but he stood still for a moment.

Before walking up to you he asked, smiling, "Are you going to run away from me again?"

You smiled and nodded "no."

He approached you and put his hands on your hips, and pulled you towards him to hold your body against his, causing you to smile even bigger. Your lips were just inches apart, but he didn't kiss you right away. The anticipation was building as you looked down at his lips, and back up to his eyes. Finally, he slid his hands from your hips to your ass and pressed you even closer to his crotch as he began kissing you passionately. In return, you pulled him closer to you and pressed yourself further into him. The kiss lasted awhile, until he had to come out of it to catch his breath. He then slid his right hand up to your shoulder and brushed the stray hair off your neck before proceeding to kiss it. You tilted your head to provide him with better access, and then he began nibbling at your neck, which caused your breathing to get heavier as you felt a tingling in your crotch. He seemed to be testing out how much you would let him do as he alternated between biting slightly harder and sucking.

When you didn't stop him, he paused himself and looked at you, "I'm going to leave a mark, you know."

You smiled. "Go ahead. Leave your mark on me, Joe."

His eyes widened with what seemed to be a new excitement that your words stirred up in him. So you took his hand and led him to the bed. You laid down and exposed your neck again.

"Leave your mark on me, Joe." You repeated.

He quickly climbed on top of you, as if he was afraid you were going to change your mind if he took too long. Hovering over you, he instantly put his lips to your neck and began biting and sucking your skin, sending chills all over your body. You started running your fingers through his hair as he was leaving a hickey that surely everyone would see. When he was satisfied with the mark he made, he stopped and looked at you.

"I hope Sobel doesn't get you in trouble for having something that's not part of your uniform." He smirked.

You chuckled and pulled him on top of you, bringing him in for another passionate kiss. You could feel his hard bulge against your body as he slipped his right hand under your shirt and bra to grab one of your breasts as you continued kissing. In turn, you slipped your hands under his shirt and ran your fingers up his back. This caused him to pause and sit back on his knees to take his shirt off. You then held your arms up, indicating that you wanted him to take your shirt off next. He slid his hands under your shirt and slowly ran them up your sides before lifting your shirt up from underneath, giving you goosebumps. He tossed your shirt aside as you lifted yourself slightly to undo your bra hook. You then held your arms out so that he would take your bra off for you. He lightly grabbed the straps and slowly slipped them off of your shoulders and slid the bra off of your arms, your breasts bouncing slightly as they fell out of the cups. He seemed to be distracted by that for a moment as he stared at your bare breasts and erect nipples.

"Joe?" You said, smiling, trying to get him to refocus.

He looked back up at your face, and then quickly laid back on top of you and stuck his tongue in your mouth again. After a few more moments of exploring your mouth with his tongue, he ran his hands down your shoulders and to your chest, grabbing both of your breasts. He spent the next few minutes squeezing them and giving each nipple a turn in his mouth; Licking, biting, and sucking them as if he was worshipping them. You just ran your fingers through his hair and moaned in enjoyment until he had his fill.

When he stopped, he looked up at you. "Sorry, I'm a boob guy." He winked.

You laughed. "I couldn't tell." You said sarcastically.

Still lying on top of you, he didn't waste any time slipping his right hand down your pants, rubbing your underwear against your already wet crotch, which was soaking through with every rub.

"Damn." He said, looking at you.

You bit your lip. You could tell he was surprised you were so wet already. "Touch me, Joe." You breathed out.

Joe obliged by slipping his hand into your panties this time. He began by rubbing circles on your clit and watched your face as you closed your eyes and moaned. Then he moved his hand further south, and you gasped when he slipped two of his fingers into your soaked pussy with ease.

"You're awfully wet for someone that hated me a few hours ago."

You opened your eyes and looked at him, his face right above yours, and rolled your eyes and smiled. Of course he had to make a dumb comment.

"Shut up." You playfully said as you grabbed the back of his head and made him kiss you again.

But when he started moving his fingers in and out of you, you couldn't help but break the kiss and moan onto his lips. He then started moving his fingers faster, and watched your face as you closed your eyes and began breathing heavier. Moving his fingers in and out of you faster still, you started squirming as the pleasure was building.

"Joe," you breathed out.

"Yeah, doll?" He said, still fucking your wet pussy with his fingers.

"I need you, Joe." You exhaled between pants for air.

"And I need you to cum for me." He smirked.

At this point, you couldn't speak. All you could do was squirm under him as you tried to catch any sort of breath as you felt like you were going to explode.

"Let go, babe."

At his suggestion, you let yourself go over the edge, and let out a loud groan as you covered his hand and your panties in cum. You had never cum so hard from someone's hands before, and now you desperately needed him inside of you.

"That's a good girl," he said, smiling at your face that was probably as red as can be.

He slipped his hand out and started sucking you off of his fingers. "Mmm."

You bit your lip and started grabbing at his waistband, desperate to free his cock.

He laughed. "Someone's in a hurry."

"I need you, Joe. Now."

"Didn't you just cum?" He smirked.

"I need you inside of me, Joe. Please." You pulled his hips into yours.

"Are you begging me?" He still had a smirk on his face, thinking back to what he had told you earlier.

You looked him straight in the eye. "Yes, Joe. I'm begging you." You were growing more desperate to feel him inside of you, but he kept stalling.

"What are you begging for? What do you want?"

"I want you, Joe. I want your cock inside of me."

"Why didn't you say so?" He winked.

You playfully rolled your eyes again. He knew full well that you had already told him. Why you found his smugness so attractive, you'll never know.

He leaned back onto the heels of his feet to slip your pants off. Then he stood up to take off his own, but you reached over so you could undo his pants for him. You slowly pulled his pants down so you could watch his stiff cock spring out from behind them. You bit your lip at the sight of it. He's Jewish, so it was obviously circumcised, and covered in bulging veins that you couldn't wait to feel inside of you.

Watching you admire it, he took it into his right hand and started stroking it next to your face. You looked up at him, still biting your lip, so he pulled down on the shaft of his cock and offered it to your mouth. You gladly accepted it.

You took it into your right hand and shoved it into your mouth, moving it in and out. He helped your movement by moving his hips back and forth towards your mouth, as he let out a sigh and rolled his head back. After another moment, he looked down at you to watch his cock going in and out of your mouth as you were staring up at him. But then he stopped you.

"Okay. Any more of that and we'll already be done here."

You laughed as you wiped your mouth. You then laid back down, leaving your knees up and your legs spread. He stroked his cock again as he came back onto the bed and knelt in front of you.

Still stroking, he was alternating between looking at your face and your pussy, biting his lip.

Trying to be smug like him, you looked at him from in between your legs and said, "Like what you see?" and smirked.

"Fuck yeah. You're gorgeous."

You smiled back at him. "I'm going to need that now, Joe Liebgott." You said as you glanced down at his cock in his hand.

"Are you begging again?"

You decided to play his game so that he'd finally give you what you need. "Yes, Joe. I'm begging you. I'm begging you to come closer and give me your cock. I need you inside of me, right now. Please." You playfully begged.

He laughed in amusement as he shifted positions to hover over you, cock still in his hand. After a few more strokes, he put his cock to your wet entrance, rubbing your clit with the tip a few times before entering you.

As he entered you slowly, he let out a sigh and said, "Fuck, you feel good, babe."

In return, you closed your eyes and rolled your head back in pleasure as you felt every veiny inch of his bare cock slowly rub against the walls of your pussy.

When he had almost bottomed out, you opened your eyes and put your hands on his ass and pushed him even further into you, watching his face as you did so. He seemed pleased with your eagerness, and began thrusting in and out of you.

"Mmm. Your cock feels so good, Joe." You bit your lip.

After a few moments of watching your pleasure, he asked, "Ready for more?"

Still biting your lip, you looked at him and nodded "yes."

He shifted to be on his knees so that he could get a better angle, and you put your feet up on his shoulders. He grabbed your hips to hold you still while he started thrusting in and out of you faster and harder. You were watching as his cock moved in and out of you, and biting the tip of your finger.

"How's the view?" He asked.

You looked up at him, and he smiled and winked. You couldn't help but laugh; he was still being 100% Joe even in the middle of fucking you.

"Amazing." You said, smiling up at him.

He leaned down and kissed your lips as he was thrusting in and out of you. The feeling of his lips on yours in that moment sent a tingle straight down to your pussy. You were starting to wonder if you would ever be able to keep your hands off of him after this. You knew you always wanted him, and you knew the sex would probably be great, but just kissing him turned you on. And you couldn't believe how good his cock felt inside of you, as if he was your perfect fit.

After separating from the kiss, he suddenly started thrusting faster and harder. With his hands still holding your hips, he began pulling you into him with every thrust. You had one hand gripping the pillow under your head, and the other between your teeth; trying not to let out any loud noises. Suddenly, Joe switched to moving in and out of you slowly, though still pulling your hips towards him with each thrust, so you began moaning quietly. The pleasure was building inside of you when, just as suddenly, he started pounding you again.

An "Oh, God!" slipped out of your mouth in that moment, with the sudden change of pace.

"That's it, baby. Let it out." Joe said, which made you realize his plan was to get you to make noise.

At this point, he was ramming his cock into you, and pulling you into him just as hard. You could no longer keep your volume down, and were letting out a high-pitched yelp with every thrust, which eventually turned into you screaming his name repeatedly.

"That's right. Let everyone know who's giving you what you need." Joe said in between poundings.

It was clear that he wanted everyone at Toccoa to know that he was the one getting to fuck you. And at this point, you didn't care; he was making you see stars.

Clinging to the pillow with both hands now, him ramming his cock into you eventually turned his name into purely whimpers as you began having multiple small orgasms as his cock was hitting all the right spots, and getting you wetter each time. Everytime you orgasmed, you began pushing his cock out of you, until he quickly pushed himself back in and caused another orgasm to follow closely behind; he had total control over your pleasure, and you could feel that the area between the two of you was soaked from your pussy being wetter than it's ever been.

"Seems like someone is enjoying themselves." Joe said. "How many times are you going to cum for me?"

You somehow managed to mutter a response in between your uncontrollable whimpering, "As many times as you want me to, Joe."

Still ramming into you, he replied, "As many times as I want?"

You weakily nodded "yes" as his body was slapping against yours and causing another orgasm. You were also pleasantly surprised that he was lasting this long, and you couldn't take your eyes off of him; even though you could barely see through your squinting, watering eyes. Another small orgasm came, and then Joe suddenly slowed down his thrusts, and leaned down to kiss your lips once.

With his face inches from yours he whispered, "Can you cum for me one more time, baby?"

You bit your lip, nodded yes, and said, "Don't pull out, Joe."

"Whatever you say, doll."

He kissed your lips once again before straightening his body up again. He shifted his angle slightly, and started hitting your G spot as he began strategic thrusting to help you both reach your finishing orgasm.

"Oh, God, Joe... Don't stop!" You cried out as he was hitting the perfect spot. "Oh, God... Joe! I'm cumming!"

You were both pushed over the edge at the same time. As you were cumming hard all over his cock, he let out a grunt and held himself deep inside of you as he coated your insides. He dropped down on top of you, and you could feel your pussy throbbing around him as you both desperately panted for air.

"Holy shit." He managed to breathe out, still inside of you.

You were gasping for air when he lifted his head to look at you. You smiled at him and brushed some of his sweaty hair off of his forehead.

He then kissed your lips once again and laid down next to you, and lifted his arm so you could cuddle up next to him. You were lying on your back, your head resting against him, and you had your left hand on your chest. To your surprise, when he reached his left hand over your shoulder, he laced his fingers with yours. Unexpectedly, you felt butterflies in your stomach.

He broke the brief silence, "This war is about to be really fun." You could hear him smiling through his words, knowing that he was implying that you two would be having sex during the war.

"What makes you think this is going to happen again?"

When he didn't respond, you looked at him, and laughed when you saw the half shocked, half disappointed look on his face.

"What's so funny?" He asked.

"You." You laughed again.

"Why? You're hurting a guy's ego here. I thought it was good for you."

You laughed yet again, "I'm pretty sure you could tell that it was amazing for me, Joe."

"Then what's the problem?"

"Well, for starters, if we keep doing this then I'm not going to be able to keep my hands off of you even in inappropriate times."

Finally relieved, he laughed. "I'm okay with that."

"Then there's the other problem..." He was silent again. "If we keep doing this..." you hesitated as you looked at your fingers intertwined. "I might fall in love with you." You were afraid to look back at him, but he took his right hand and turned your chin so that you'd look at his face.

He looked you straight in the eye as he replied, "I'm okay with that, too."

"Good. Because I think I'm already falling for you..." You hadn't turned away from him, and you couldn't believe that you said that out loud; you hadn't even told it to yourself yet...

Much to your surprise, Joe smiled again, and said "Good. Then I don't have to worry about sharing you."

His response put a huge smile on your face, which made him kiss you. And then you snuggled up even closer to him, and buried your face in his neck.

He began rubbing your back. "So I guess it's safe to say you don't hate me anymore."

"I never really hated you, Joe. I just hated you for making me want you so badly."

He stopped rubbing your back, "Wait a minute... You mean, all this time you actually wanted me real bad?"

"Don't let it inflate your already large ego, Joe." You laughed.

"No... It's just the way you always talked, you know? I didn't think you wanted to even be anywhere near me."

"I was afraid to be near you."

"Why?"

"Because I knew this would happen." You motioned to your cuddled up naked bodies.

"And this was a bad thing?"

"No... But I thought it would be..."

"I don't follow."

You sighed. "As the only female paratrooper, I thought if I hooked up with someone then I'd only be seen as the resident sex toy, and not a viable member of the company."

"Well, you're not the resident sex toy. You're my girl."

You felt butterflies in your stomach again.

"Is that okay?" He asked.

You smiled at him, "It's perfect."

He smiled back at you, and pulled you closer to him. He then kissed your head before you buried your face into his neck again, and it didn't take long for you to fall asleep in his arms.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

My other Joe Liebgott x Female Reader fics:

☆ "Go on, leave me breathless."

☆ "A hundred reasons, and counting still."

☆ "In Dreams"

☆ "I never could forget you."

[yrrtyrrtwhenihrrthrrt]

how does the 2022 movie shit on the novel?? (I love the 2022 movie and haven’t read the book)

Hiii so first off I wanna thank you for this ask from the bottom of my heart because this story is deeply important to me and I've been seething about it for two years straight and now I finally have an excuse to talk at length about the problem without sounding (completely) unhinged. I'd also like to clarify that I'm not mad at you or anyone else for liking this movie especially if you haven't read the book. I actually think that as a standalone film, it's pretty phenomenal. The acting, cinematography, and soundtrack are really on point. The problem isn't that it's a bad movie, it's that it's a bad and seemingly purposefully disrespectful adaptation.

So now I'll get into why (buckle up). As my followers know, War Movie Commentary is not typically the focus of this blog so uhhhh sorry y'all we'll be back to your regularly scheduled brainrot soon enough, but if any of you care deeply for literature or history or the history of war, or are familiar with this book or movie, I urge you to hear me out. Sorry, It's long. I kinda ran with it lmfao

So the first and most important thing to be aware of when discussing the disrespect of this adaptation is that, while it is not technically an explicit memoir, All Quiet on the Western Front is not a work of fiction. Everything that happens is based on something either the author or a soldier he interviewed really experienced. The main character is based on the author himself. Remarque's middle name was Paul before he changed it, he entered the German military at the same age as Paul, he had a passion for writing and poetry like Paul (a passion which if I recall correctly was omitted from the movie, but my memory may be off) and several of the things that Paul experiences are directly taken from his own life. While it is not explicitly a memoir, it is a collection of the real lived experiences of these soldiers, put to page in the form of a story with names changed. I think it is inherently disrespectful to dramatically change the events of a true story, but the way in which the 2022 movie went about it somehow took it further than just that.

So one thing you should know if you haven't read the book, which I HIGHLY recommend, Remarque wrote a preface to the book that was included in all the movies EXCEPT this one, and it states the exact purpose of the story. this is quoted from memory,

“This book is to be neither an accusation nor a confession, and least of all an adventure, for death is not an adventure to those who come face to face with it. It will simply seek to tell the story of a generation of men who, while they may have survived the shells, were destroyed by the war.”

He explicitly did not want it to be sensational, or “an adventure.” He wanted to tell real stories about real people, and all those stories were scrapped in favor of what we got. If you remove maybe two scenes and changed the title and character names, the film would not even be recognizable. How can you (not you the asker but the general you) do that to real people's lived experiences? How can you disgrace the author’s wishes like that? The book takes a humanistic approach. You learn about these people, you care about them. You spend time with them goofing off in boot camp, hassling newbies in the trenches, playing cards in the latrines, you see Paul go home and you see how his time at home affects him. How his father parades him around, how he lost interest in everything that once made him happy, how he sees Russian POWs and knows that they are just like him, how his mother, dying of cancer, strokes his hair and cries when she thinks he is asleep because she knows her baby has been lying when he said that things were fine, and he's going back into that hell.

I cannot go into everything the movie portrayed differently to the book because I would have to just copy and paste practically the entire script lol. And having differences isn't inherently a bad thing! Both other movies added or removed or slightly altered a scene here and there. But there are two specific scenes, at the beginning and at the end, that I think are the most indicative of this movie’s failure and disrespect.

In the beginning of the book, which is not told in chronological order, we are introduced to the main friend group and find out that their friend is dying in the infirmary. They visit him, they crack jokes and tell him he's lucky he'll be going home, but he's obviously not improving. He is unaware that his leg has been amputated. One of them asks for his boots, since he has nice military boots, for when he “goes home”, and the others kind of shut him up. Later they discuss how they all know Franz is dying. Paul reminisces about Franz, how he was always timid, how his mother made Paul promise to protect him. He goes to visit Franz again, and he's doing real bad. The author describes in detail how you can see the death in his face. He is now aware his leg was amputated. He wistfully tells Paul that he wanted to be a forester when he grew up, and now he never will. Paul tries to reassure him that “prosthetics are great these days!” (This was written in 1920 lmao) and insists Franz will go home. Franz asks “Do you think so?” And then when Paul remains insistent, he quietly replies, “I don't think so.” He tells Paul to give their friend his boots. Paul sits in silence with him, foreheads pressed together, watching as his friend slowly dies from infection. His internal monologue is distressed about the orderlies ignoring them. “I want to grab them and I want to scream, ‘his name is Franz Kemmerich, he is nineteen years old, he doesn't want to die, don't let him die!’” As he hits in silence until the end. All these characters are emphasized to be nineteen years old.

This is the most important scene in the book. It sets the tone for the whole rest of the story and happens very early on.

Meanwhile in the movie, an unnamed character who we vaguely see hanging around Paul gets instantly blown to shrapnel and his severed leg gets blown off and Paul finds it, cries for 8 seconds, and we move on.

So that's a pretty big failure, I would say. This was the point in the movie I started getting a real bad feeling.

So that's the beginning, now the ending which, while it is the insulting cherry on top of the disrespect pie, I cannot get over how absolutely ridiculous this film ending is. First of all, the whole bit with the military officials? Not in the book at all. That big end battle after the armistice for literally no reason? Yeah, that didn't happen. I don't know how the writers forgot that you cannot completely fabricate an entire battle in a film about an actual war that really happened. And what disgusted me was they have Paul die in a vicious killing spree, bashing heads in, storming the trench (in this fake battle that didn't happen) stabbing people, shooting people, strangling people, throwing bombs, going nuts, getting nearly DROWNED IN SHIT WATER. Need I remind you this was the self-insert of the author who they had doing this? I get what they were trying to to do, show how an innocent non-violent guy got “broken” by the war but that is not faithful to the story. It borders on fetishizing violence, which as previously mentioned was the exact OPPOSITE of what the author directly stated that he wanted his work to be perceived.

Paul did what he had to do, but he was never sadistic and never liked killing and certainly never went on a killing spree. Again, this is meant to represent the AUTHOR.

So how does he die in the book? It's where the title comes from. “He fell in October, 1918 on a day that was so quiet and still on the whole front, that the army report confined itself to a single sentence: All Quiet on the Western Front. Turning him over one saw that he could not have suffered long. His face bore an expression of calm, as though almost glad the end had come.”

Bit of a different picture, innit? Look, I don't mind movies being different to books, I don't particularly mind this movie as it stands on its own, but it chewed up, shat out, and stomped on Remarque's legacy and it absolutely devastates me to know how he would feel if he saw what they did to his story. The rage I feel on the behalf of a person who just wanted to tell his real story is unfathomable.

[majorbaby]

let's talk about trapper's flaws then:

in s02e03 radar's report he contemplates how easy it would be to kill a patient who he perceives has caused the death of another patient. this is commentary on how state propaganda affects civilians because in the opening scene, trapper states "they're all brainwashed to see any american as the enemy", in reference to the same patient, a chinese soldier - his single most plot-relevant lapse imo.

he's stepping out on his wife and she's probably not cool with it but it's hard to link to an obvious overarching flaw because he's shown to be otherwise honest, loyal and selfless, just not towards louise. the flaw here for me is marrying her in the first place instead of living by his values, so maybe even connected to the previous bullet point - dishonesty to oneself as a result of outward influence

misogyny. no two ways about it, but kind of boring because it's not unique to him.

he shares a personality with hawkeye - but this is a concern that the audience might have, not a concern other characters might have. unless you're frank burns i guess, in which case, the flaw is being a bleeding heart liberal (which would make for an interesting fic imo)

he's not quite passive, but he's less active than Hawkeye, so maybe he could fall into apathy without a spark to set him off - but again, this is me trying to find a watsonian explanation for the Trapper character being the follower half of the HawkTrap duo

there's a handful of other instances where he does some unsavory stuff, but they're almost always one-offs that are contradicted by other consistent behaviours:

stealing hawkeye's watch in s03e22 - I mean, he steals hawkeye's watch to bet in a poker game, but it's a good thing he does because hawkeye uses the winnings to get the army off his back. also like, hawkeye bet Trapper's face for a chance to fuck Margie so shrug

i feel obliged to mention the note thing but again, it's a one-off, and what's the flaw here? avoidant? nope, he waited around as long as could. not anticipating a need that even the audience couldn't have anticipated at this point because there's never a mention of it up until s04e01? but he's steadfastly stood by hawkeye at every turn up until this point, it's hard to imagine what could have led the writers to write such an exit except for the fact that wayne rogers unexpectedly left the show. in this way, trapper's exit is not unlike henry's death: bad luck, bad timing

he's dismissive of hawkeye at first in pierce/hyde instead of, idk, playing along with the delusion or whatever the good option was here. the epilogue kind of negates this though because it implies he knew what was "wrong" with hawkeye the whole time... but i suppose we can pretend it only occurred to him when he saw hawkeye drive off hauling the general in the latrine

[ndostairlyrium]

15 Lines of Dialogue

Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

Tagged by @greypetrel 💛 thank you dear, scrolling through the pages was super sweet and it reminded me that doing something for myself without stressing too much on how it could be perceived was one of the best decisions I've ever made ;; <3

So, luckily for you I only have just a dozen of chapters translated so you're getting just the Haven + trip to Skyhold arcs :' there she's more jokes oriented wait until the trip to the Dales kicks in

🌸💀 Ankh before the "Lav" 💀🌸

"I should have listened to you. And this will be the first and last time you ever hear me say it!"

"Every culture strives to make [death] poetic in order to make sense of the pain of loss, but reality is much more selfless than any theory."

"This is the point at which I usually lay out my theory to Varric and he raises ten coppers that the situation is actually far worse than what it seems."

"I'm not "an elf". I'm the one who’s going to send you chopping wood with a butter knife, if you keep this attitude."

"Do you really want me to strip completely naked and dance around the fire, hooting in the moonlight under the influence of psychotropic mushrooms?" she paused. "With this cold?

"They give us a certificate along with the rabbit ears when we sprout from the ground."

"This isn't caution, it's lack of decency. If a man is hovering at the edge of a ravine, you carry him to safety, you don't check his ears first. And don't tell me it's a coping mechanism, or I'll tell Sera where you sleep!"

"And if I die, I'd like you to use my skull as a candle holder. Whatever Avaar may say, skulls make terrible mugs."

"I don't believe in redemption. It's like giving candy to a child after class. Mistakes are not stains, they are a reference point for those who make them to spur themselves to do better. They should be welcomed as much as a person's merits. They exist for those who suffer them and for those who make them, to help them give direction to their path"

"Don't transfer your inability to flirt to the Chantry, mister. It's too convenient."

"Not you too, please! You can't catch the plague if you sleep in the same room with an elf. It's scientifically proven. Unless the elf has the plague, but you can notice it on the fly." she pointed at her face with a circular gesture. "Bubbons, blisters, death."

"Oh, shut up! Thanks to my stubbornness, latrines have never been so clean!"

"I complained as well myself, but your saints have a no refunds policy."

"Humans are fickle, huh? First they hate me, then they praise me, then they forget me, and now it seems like I'm the heroine of all lost causes all over again. In all of this... where's my darn griffin?"

"Oh, I have no weapons; I have an arsenal. And if I really wanted to hurt you, you wouldn't be here now. I know where you sleep, I know your patterns, and it would take very little to convince most of the Inquisition elves that inside the council chambers there's an individual worth shaving at night."

-

I'm tagging: @herearedragons and @bruxbea

If you want to get tagged too just drop a ✨ in the replies u-u

[ravi-is-my-beloved]

My 8x01 Summary & Thoughts

Okay, I just watched the premiere of season 8, so I'm going to try my best to get out all of my thoughts. (There are a few things I didn't bring up, this is just everything I thought was important and would tie into what happens in the next two episodes.)

(I tagged this as 911 spoilers, but I'm adding a warning now. Under the cut is SPOILERS)

First of all, the music decisions for the this episode? Amazing. Love the fact that they used songs about bees. It was whimsy, which I love.

Gerrard was as annoying as I thought he would be and I loved everyone's reactions to him. I was surprised Buck didn't punch him, but I'm not surprised that Buck saved him while also inadvertently hurting him in the process. I hope this will put Gerrard out of commission for the next episode, but I don't have much fate that they'd bring back Bobby for the plane crash emergency.

Speaking of Bobby, I'm very sad that he had like three scenes this entire episode. Hopefully, we get more of him in the second episode, because I was wondering where he was. I do love that the lead actor on Hotshots wants to emulate after Bobby, because I'm sure Bobby's just itching to get someone to listen to him about the inaccuracies of the show. I hope Bobby gets to come back to the 118 soon.

As everyone speculated, Athena was tasked with escorting her late fiancé's killer, Dennis Jenkins (that's the killer, if it wasn't clear). But it's not enough that the plane she was on crashing was in her immediate feature, someone's out to kill Jenkins. All I can say about this is, I hope they don't put her through too much trauma. She's been through so much already these past seven seasons.

I'm lumping these two together since the majority of what they had this episode was together, and these two are Hen and Chimney. Chimney is bonding with Mara over Harry Potter, which I personally love them bonding. I also love the fact that Dennis, Karen, and Hen seem to come over to the Han house a lot to spend dinner so they can see Mara. Hen and Karen have a foster lawyer, so hopefully that will help with getting their foster license and Mara back. Definitely seeing signs of there maybe being friction between Hen and Chim soon about Chim and Mara bonding.

Eddie was going through it in this episode. First he has a very awkward happy birthday FaceTime call with Chris where Chris so clearly is still not happy with Eddie and Eddie has to find out that Chris is enjoying his time away in Texas. And then Buck suggests they lather Eddie in perfume to help get a drowning vic who has a swarm of bees over her out of the pool. It was very serious, but I couldn't stop laughing at the sight of him running around to attract all of the bees to him so Hen and Chim could go save the drowning girl.

Buck was very much butting heads with Gerrard. Every idea he had to deal with the bees (and they were good ideas), had Gerrard mad at him and then Gerrard even stole credit of the smoke idea. He also kept getting latrine duty, too. In the end, though, he did save Gerrard from getting sliced apart by a saw breaking and the blade flying in Gerrard's direction. And then, as I said, he inadvertently injured Gerrard by pushing him down (again, to save ) and giving him a head injury.

All in all, while there were some things that left me wanting for more (which is not unusual, there was a lot going on this episode), I did enjoy this episode. And it did, in my opinion, set up the rest of the season as something that was exciting and something that I'm looking forward to watch. I can't wait to see what the rest of the season has in store for us.

[wyked-ao3]

most likely to tag game

game was started by @paeliae-occasionally

Rules: answer with which of your OCs would be the most likely to do the statement, then give new statements for the next person.

I was tagged by @fortunatetragedy here

Some i have answered before but I'm going to have fun elaborating.

My wip TPKODR cast and crew

Most likely to arrive ridiculously early.

Amon always arrives early, he is a seer and a trouble maker (I'm not sure why he is always early yet but he is) I theories it's to get the outcome that he wants but he refuses to answer... *Can I feed him to the fishys yet?* (Please ignore my sanity as I threaten my characters)

Most likely to be in a relationship for less than a week

Oscar he's not on the ship long but he's a playboy and an absolute idiot..with a good heart kinda (not a fan of him)

Most likely to secretly be really good at music, but just not tell anyone.

Adoh plays the drums it is how his grandmother taught him rhythm for his blacksmithing. He doesn't share that with just anyone.. Daimhín and Galen might know but they have not told me lol

Most likely to burn something while cooking

Daimhín he is not allowed to cook after heather saw his attempt at making bread...they were later used in the canon efficiently....(Not in story yet but on my list if possible mentions)

Most likely to stop a robbery if they see it taking place.

Oisìn he doesn't like robbery...but if he's going to commit it he commits 0_o (yes I did a scene and the brat decided to take over they were after 1 set if items and did they leave with just that no they didn't) *unimpressed author glaring at oc*

Most likely to not tell people they’re sick until they really need the help.

Oisìn, Daimhín and Jade would take the cake for this one. Jade and Oisìn don't like to show weakness so it'll have them on death's doors or passing out before they admit to being sick...let alone needing help. Daimhín just doesn't want the crew mother Henning him

Apologize first.

Depending on the situation but most likely Heather Heather is a very caring character.

Survive on a desert island.

Oisìn he would actually probably enjoy the vacation and hopes everyone forgets that island exist

Break up a fight.

Galen and Adoh usually break up any fights Galen can make them clean the latrines so they tend to stop when he says enough Adoh's method is they can't fight if they can't lift their arms for a month.....(That means he has assistant's for blacksmithing....) He will also knock them out so there's that...

Most likely to own a cat.

Technically the cat belongs to the ship but is often found in Adoh's workspace or harassing Daimhín... the crew claims the cat but Daimhín and Adoh have been claimed by the cat... Oisìn will be soon as well ;)

Most likely to swim across a large river/channel without getting fatigued.

Adoh has the muscles for it but I think the answer would be princess Anne 😂 she's of the merfolk

Most likely to not be a morning person and hates getting woken up too early.

Jade if he is woken up early it's usually not going to be a good day for him. Taz is not for being woke up early unless it's an emergency either...which a few pirates are about to find out... 0_o

Most likely to use magic tricks.

Amon or Morana although does it count if they have magic of sorts?

Most likely to start with just one drink and get blasted.

Amon as a full blooded fae has the worst resistance to getting shit faced.... As he will soon find out the hard way

Most likely to fall asleep wherever the place.

Braith although she will have a dagger to your throat before you know it if you wander in while she's asleep....she sleeps lightly

Most likely to lose their phone/wallet/other very important and period appropriate item. .

Amon the maps he's in charge if navigation and always setting down the maps 0_o

Most likely to hold a grudge over something minor.

Braith ....not necessarily a good thing for whoever the grudge is against

Most likely to try an unfamiliar food.

Jade as a prince he has tried some interesting things. He is usually willing to try anything, even when he hates it he will eat it if in a public setting.

Most likely to get stage fright.

I'm not sure that any of them would.

Most likely to crash a wedding.

0_o don't give them ideas but Death would definitely crash a wedding so would his wife Nyx Along with Rob 😇

Most likely to cheat on a test.

Rob 🤣 (not explaining this one)

Most likely to faint.

Oscar (he's the most likely but I'm not sure why.)

Most likely to enjoy art.

Adoh especially metal work of any kind.

Most likely to hate sports.

Oisìn it's connected to some bad memories and he doesn't understand why anyone would participate in sports

I'll add 3 but feel free to answer any

Most likely to get stomped on by a horse

Most likely to shoot a rifle

Most likely to hide their emotions

No pressure Tagging

@the-golden-comet @gioiaalbanoart @sableglass

@aintgonnatakethis @saturnine-saturneight @willtheweaver @jev-urisk @sunglasses-in-the-bentley @theaistired +open tag

Tag list

@thatuselesshuman @lychhiker @goth-automaton

@thecomfywriter @evilwriter37 @saebasanart

@mauannacreates @kind-lion @alinacapellabooks

@kuebiko-writing @kaeru483 @differentnighttale

@theink-stainedfolk @unstableunicornsofasgard

@mysticstarlightduck