never been good in storms, but I was even worse in hospitals, so when
the choice came to go visit Nana, my ma’s mother, or stay home and brave
the thunder and lightning on my own, I only hesitated for a moment
before making my decision.
“You sure you don’t want to come, Hannah?” Ma asked, hovering uncertainly in the doorway leading to the garage.
Context: The Sorcerer wandered away from the group and eventually found a building with a sign she couldn’t read and decided to enter. It looked like a bar but she had no idea what services they offered, so she paid a female elf who worked there to try out the services and was instructed to go wait in a room.
DM: You walk down the hallway and find the door to the room the woman asked you to wait in.
Sorcerer: I enter the room and look around.
DM: Okay, the first thing you notice is the large bed with a heart-shaped headboard. The room is quite…gaudy. It’s red and pink and everything is either carpet or velvet.
Sorcerer: Alright. I sit on the bed to wait.
DM: Okay you wait a few minutes and hear a knock on the door—
Sorcerer: I take off all my clothes.
Sorcerer: I take off all my clothes. I wanna be naked.
DM: I, uh, alright then. You are now completely naked. The door swings open and the elf woman enters in with a basket of items. She screams as soon as she sees you and covers her eyes.
DM (as NPC): Excuse me, but miss, we offer massages here! Not…that!
Sorcerer: Hm…I see. Alright, I would like to roll to lesbian.
DM: You want to…You know what? Sure, fine, roll to persuade her.
Sorcerer: *Rolls a natural 20*
DM: *Bursts into laughter with the rest of the players*
I’ve been seeing a lot of these posts with the same damn products on all of them and I really feel like we’re recycling the same shit and there’s nothing new to read anymore which is part of the reason I made this account, to add my own remedies and routines in hope that it could help someone else~
African black soap-
Lemme tell you right now. Ditch whatever shit you’re using as a body wash RN and go cop some (RAW) African black soap. That shit is natural and is bursting with vitamin A and E. It helps with eczema too. I personally use Alaffia which also contains Shea butter and I use it everday. Love it and love my skin+it smells super fresh
Apple cider vinegar-
Add abt ¾ of a cup of ACV to your bath and let it work its magic. Its anti fungal and battles against body odor. It makes your hair shiny and is considered a skin detox bath, I personally experience softer skin. ALSO it resets your pH and fights again vaginal odor and yeast infections naturally too.
Jojoba oil is the oil that everyone thinks coconut oil is. It is a natural moisturizer for hair and skin and it works way better than coconut oil could ever hope to do!!
Let me tell u something. In a previous post I copied a message on of my followers sent me abt coconut oil being horrible for your hair because it breaks down proteins. It got a lot of positive and negative feed back, some saying I was trying to speak for them or leave out black hair, no that is not the case. I simply copied a message and released it for public knowledge cause im here to HELP YOU NOT HURT YOU! I’m sorry if I offended anyone~ but coconut oil, regardless of hair, is not the angelic product everyones made it out to be. STOP PUTTING THAT SHIT ON YOUR SKIN IT CLOGS PORES. I use it to oil pull, its a natural way to remove the toxins from your mouth and it also whitens your teeth. You put abt a teaspoon or less of coconut oil in your mouth and swish for a minute or 2. Love that shit my teeth are so white. But other than that I wouldnt put that shit on my hair or skin, unless you’re shaving your legs or sometin. Although I do put it on my pussy after I shave and idk what i’d do without it. But coconut oil is NOT for everything.
Sorry for the extremely long coconut oil excerpt lol this one’s short. Rose water can be used as a toner/makeup setter. It controls oil and hydrates your skin. It also has antioxidant and antibacterial properties. Its also good on dry/frizzy hair
Castor oil+Vitamin E oil-
Another 2 great oils. I’m lazy and didnt want to make another 2 oil sections lol but basically castor oil can be used on eyebrows/eyelashes to thicken them. Its also a natural laxative. Vitamin E oil is a great hair/skin moisturizer and heals scars.
If you arent taking biotin everyday I want you to go to your local pharmacy and cop a bottle because beauty starts from the inside. Its a hair skin nail vitamin and boosts healthy growth of hair/nails and keeps skin healthy. I do love it.
Instead of using a typical bar of soap, invest in a charcoal one instead. Charcoal contains a powder called Binchōtan which cleanses and moisturizes skin. For all u natural bitches out there.
Also a lil side note~ for anyone who wants to comment to mine or any other ‘hoe tip’ posts saying “these are life tip not hoe tips” SHUT UP! We know! But these tips were originally for tips and products to be as sexy and well maintained as they can be. Usually before somekind of sex appointment. Let the hoes have this instead of trying to shame it
SEVENTEEN when you share their bed after a nightmare
He would remain calm on the outside, politely letting you lie next to him. However, panicked and messy thoughts would actually be encompassing his brain, and his heart would be beating faster and heavier every time you inched closer to his side of the bed.
He’d find it so cute that you came to his dorm in the middle of the night, and so for a while he wouldn’t be able to look at you without bursting into naturally-occurring nervous laughter. Of course, he would secretly be ecstatic that you chose him.
This little baby really wouldn’t know what to do at first. He’d have trouble finding the words to answer your cute descriptions of your nightmare, and would instead resort to wrapping his arms around you tightly, teddy-bear-like, and telling you softly that everything was gonna be okay.
This boy ain’t playing no games. The moment you slid into his bed, his male testosterone would kick in, and you’d have no escape. It would begin with him wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you every so slowly towards him, so eventually your back would be pressed against his chest.
I gotta say, Mingyu would also be feeling the tension heat up in that bed. It would take longer for him to make the first move, but it would happen, sure enough. He’d stroke your hair a little awkwardly, and move on to placing comforting kisses on top of your forehead.
Naturally, Hoshi would be super nervous about having a girl he’d had a crush on for so long visit his dorm room. He’d start questioning you frantically, asking you if someone had dared you to come, or you were faking the nightmare. Eventually, he’d calm down, and agree to let you slide into bed with him.
He’d definitely be feeling pretty awkward about it, but agree almost immediately. He’d stay up with you until ungodly hours, waiting for you to calm down and sleep again. He’d make sure you got most of the blanket, and the softer pillow, too~
It wouldn’t be a big surprise to him to see you enter his dorm room in the middle of the night. Without a word, he’d let you climb into bed with him, taking your shaking hands in his own and kissing them softly, all the while holding you tight against him, his heat radiating onto your skin.
He’d be insanely awkward and hesitant about it at first, paranoid about what people would think if they heard that the two of you spent the night together after you claimed to have a nightmare. He would settle down quickly though, understanding your situation and inviting you to lie next to him.
He’d have no problem at all, but would instead be worried about what he should say or do. He’d go buy you a hot drink in the middle of the night to relax you, and let you stay under the duvets for as long as you needed, still in shock from the fact that his crush had chosen to visit him~
He’d take the opportunity of you being scared to tease you for a while, just sitting back and enjoying your cute face whining at him and pouting. He’d smirk a little, and then pull the covers up without a word, inviting you to join him underneath, in the almost pitch-black room.
You will have definitely woken him up from a really nice, deep sleep, so he may appear a little unresponsive when you come up to him, whimpering about your nightmare. In order to keep you quiet to maintain his restful state, he’d place your head against his chest and lull you to sleep like a baby, stroking your back.
He’d be so flattered that you’d come to his room, especially as you were his hardcore secret crush and all. He’d give you all the space you wanted, and would stay up to talk to and comfort you until whenever you so desired, eventually dropping off to sleep, his hand mid-stroking your hair.
Ed Fielder is a 61-year-old scrivener at the palace of the Night Court. Ed is quite mortal, something that’s not a given in this world. Ed is so dedicated to his work that he barely notices when his most frequent client, Lucardo Von Gishaupt, one of the immortal and forever-young aristocrats, flirts with him.
Lucardo is a handsome man with enticing eyes, and Ed wonders why such a man of high rank would ever want to be with him. But after Ed’s initial hesitation, their romance blossoms, which causes friction in Lucardo’s family, who are not too pleased to see their immortal son spending his time with a mortal. Especially a mortal nearing so close to his twilight years. And Ed has to overcome his feeling of inadequacy while being around people who have not only lived a life of luxury he cannot understand, but who also joke of drinking blood.
Letters for Lucardo is Noora Heikkilä’s first in a four-part series focusing on these star-crossed lovers of the Night Court. The book is masterfully illustrated and the characters are portrayed as real and vulnerable. The scenes in the Night Court, with veiled figures enshrouded by candlelight, are intriguing. But Heikkilä truly shines when it comes to how natural a simple laugh bursting out of Lucardo feels. Or how palpable the dawning horror becomes as we watch Ed realize he has woken up in the bed of Lucardo’s father, The Lord of the Night Court.
The romance of Lucado works because Heikkilä has created an intriguing world and characters we come to adore. Any fan of romance, vampires, or court intrigue will find something to love here.
(This is an adult graphic novel. It contains adult situations and content, and is inappropriate for anyone under age 18.)
• summary : in whichmin yoongi doesn’t know how to deal with his emotions and so, naturally, they all burst out of him at 2 a.m. in an alleyway next to the bar.
• word count: 5.1k
• warnings: swearing; alcohol
→ note: i wrote this while i was sad and listening to this playlist, but this work isn’t sad, and i’m not exactly sure how that happened?? enjoy the fluff and the best friends/total wingmen jimin and hoseok~
It’s 11 p.m. when Min Yoongi thinks he might die if he doesn’t admit it soon.
A/N: This was only suppose to be a very long one shot. No beta this time.
Summary: Your best friend in the whole galaxy is coming to visit to help out with Thanos. When he arrives, Steve finds himself jealous of the close relationship Peter and you have. Will this stop the man from telling you how he feels? Will old feelings be brought up once Peter arrives? Does first love truly fade?
45. “I had a nightmare about you and I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
A/N: I don’t know what happened– I went to save the ask as a draft and it disappeared. So sorry, I do not know who requested this! Please comment and let me know. I found it! @mazikeen Thank you for the prompt! A/N2: Another drabble! I hope you like it. :)
For a moment, Thranduil looked fierce, a wild thing protecting his territory. It was the dead of night, and his door sidled open, softly, but Thranduil’s keen hearing detected the sound.
Ready to expel the bold intruder who dared to enter his rooms unbidden, Thranduil stole out of his bed and into the shadows, shrugging into a robe as he did. Peering across the darkened room, he saw a slender figure and gasped, recognition slackening his scowl–
“Legolas?” Thranduil asked, as he stepped into the swath of moonlight on the floor.
Legolas started in surprise, then hurried towards him, his eyes round and worried.
“What are you doing up at this hour?” Thranduil asked. There was no good reason his son should be awake now, and so he frowned as Legolas raced across the room.
“Ada,” Legolas said with a fraught expression, and launched himself at his father, clasping him tightly.
Thranduil was stunned, but bent to encircle his son in his arms, holding his beloved child close. Legolas made little gasping noises, burying his nose into his middle, and Thranduil realized he was crying, though trying very hard not to.
It pained him some to discover that his son felt he should hide his feelings from him. Even a few years ago this wouldn’t have been true. Legolas’s happy and inquisitive nature overrode any shame he might feel, but nothing could change the fact that his elfling was growing up.
Somewhere in the transition from child to adolescent, Legolas had learned to be self conscious of his emotions. Joy still shone through– the child couldn’t help his nature– like sunshine bursting free of the clouds, but in learning discipline and order, he thought to stifle his other feelings.
From watching me, Thranduil thought. He felt sorrow for it, but he knew no other way for a king to be.
Thranduil’s astonishment at his son’s outburst, yielded to concern. What monsters had hurt his little leaf? Thranduil would slay them all. “What is it, ion-nin?” he asked, smoothing his hand over Legolas’s scalp, resting at the base of his neck.
“I am sorry,” Legolas whimpered. “It is very childish and stupid, my lord, but I cannot help it.”
Thranduil’s heart hurt to hear Legolas addressing him formally, to show respect and put distance between them that propriety dictated.
Legolas was at that age between childhood and young adulthood. He strove everyday to act grown up, yet was still a child. It was very important that he be taken seriously, and he would be wounded if Thranduil dismissed his feelings.
“It must not be either of those things to upset you so,” Thranduil replied. “Tell me. I will not ridicule.” He pulled back enough to crouch at Legolas’s feet to better see his face, and held in his surprise when he realized how tall his son had grown. In another year or two, he would be too big for such a gesture.
“I had a nightmare about you,” Legolas whispered, “and I just wanted to make sure you are okay.”
“What did you dream about?” Thranduil asked.
Legolas was quiet for a long moment, only shaking his head as he gathered his thoughts. Thranduil waited as patiently as he could for his son to speak.
“I dreamed I was in the woods, playing,” Legolas said, then frowned. “No, not playing– on patrol.”
Legolas was too young to go on patrol. It would be another twenty years before he reached the age of maturity, but Thranduil did not interrupt him with that fact.
“You were on patrol, and then what?” Thranduil prompted.
“There was a stag and I followed him, chasing and laughing with the other elves. We ran through the woods, hardly noticing when it got darker,” Legolas said, “but it did.”
“I didn’t see the pit and I fell down and down impossibly long until the sky was ash and the air thick and I landed in mud. I was surrounded on all sides by muck and swamp. I saw the stag, his great antlers protruding from the mire. He was sinking. I lumbered towards him but was weighted down by the mud, water, and marsh plants. I couldn’t reach him in time. He sank under.
“When I got closer–,” Legolas’s voice choked off. Emotion warred across his face as he struggled to remain composed, but ultimately Legolas lost to it, his brow creasing in anguish as he heaved a sob.
“He’s you– the stag is you. You’re floating under the water. And I can’t– I can’t reach you– my hands are bound, held back by the weeds, my feet rooted by the mud– and you’re under the water– I can see you, but I can’t touch you. And you’re sinking, and so still, and floating away from me and I can’t– I can’t–.”
Thranduil threw his arms around him and pulled Legolas close. “Shhh, it’s alright,” Thranduil soothed. “You have me now, my love.”
Legolas wept openly, wailing dolefully into Thranduil’s neck. The king swayed his child tenderly, trying to soothe his anguished heart with a strong embrace and gentle reassurances.
Legolas’s dream summoned images from his own memories.
The Dead Marshes, Thranduil thought and went still. Dagorlad.
Elven history was part of Legolas’s lessons, and the young prince was just beginning to realize his father’s part in it. It had been amusing when Legolas realized just how old his father was, his scant three decades of life uncomprehending of multiple millennia.
However, there was nothing amusing about this.
The battle of Dagorlad marked one of the most harrowing times in his long life. Thranduil could not think on it without feeling intense pain in his heart. The knowledge of this history should have been imparted on Legolas with great care, if not for his own young mind, but out of respect for Thranduil.
How Legolas learned about this without my consent, I do not know, Thranduil thought. There are more pressing concerns at the moment.
Thranduil’s mind raced, but there was no time for his own grief. Legolas was distressed and needed him to be present right now.
“You were dead,” Legolas whispered. “I was too late. I was useless.”
Thranduil sat back on his heels, pulling away only enough to look into his eyes. His son could not know these words echoed his own from thousands of years ago on that battlefield when he’d found Oropher’s body. They were destructive, and useless words themselves, with no place in Legolas’s young mind.
“You had a bad dream,” Thranduil replied. “But that is all it is. I am not dead, nor are you too late, nor are you useless.”
It was obvious anxiety caused Legolas’s dream, his young mind reeling from what he had learned, the horror of it too much to process.
“I do not know what I would do if– if I lost you, too,” Legolas said through his tears, and he heaved an ugly sob into his arm.
Thranduil felt his own sentiment rise up, tightening his throat, but he swallowed it down, focusing on the fierce love he had for this little elf.
“You will not lose me, my love,” Thranduil said, rubbing up and down his arms, trying to comfort his son, but his words had the opposite effect.
“You cannot promise!” Legolas cried, yanking his arms free. “Nana died. Your ada died. I read about it in the book! What could stop you from dying next?”
Ah, my little scholar is reading ahead of his lessons, Thranduil thought. When Legolas was curious about something, he could be as persistent as a dog with a bone. Perhaps Legolas had thought reading about war would prepare him to be a soldier. Lately, he had been very interested in what grown ups do. Thranduil would have to remember to ask him about it later.
The Dead Marshes were macabre even to the most dauntless of soldiers, let alone a child with a vivid imagination. Corpses drifted in the murky water, anchored by rotting weeds that sprouted up like gnarled hands to tether the bodies an easy length from the surface, taunting the living with failure and loss. Despair dwelled in that moor, its legacy of sorrow bequeathed to all who had looked upon it.
Thranduil had many sleepless nights after he had returned from the Dead Marshes on a fool’s errand to see if Oropher floated among the disturbed bodies there. Though he had blessedly not found his father, what Thranduil had seen would haunt him for the rest of his days.
This is not the way I intended for Legolas to learn about his grandfather, Thranduil thought. I need to mend this if I can.
Thranduil remembered all too well the pain of losing his home, of losing his father, of losing his comrades, of losing his wife– so much loss in his long life, more than many elves experience.
I must banish my own bereavement from my mind, Thranduil thought. I must not dwell on my losses but instead on what I have learned from them.
“Without you, I’ll be all alone,” Legolas whispered, blue eyes round, and red-rimmed with tears. “What would I do if you weren’t here with me?”
Thranduil took Legolas’s hands in his own, squeezing gently. Such a stricken question from one so young, Thranduil thought. Elves were supposed to live for all time. That they did not, was the great tragedy of their kind.
“We cannot know what life will bring us,” Thranduil said. “It is okay to worry sometimes, Legolas. You are more capable than you realize, But there are some things we cannot control. All we can do is enjoy life one day at a time, the best we can. Will you try to remember that?”
Legolas sniffled and nodded, and gasped, “I will try. But I am afraid, ada.”
“It is alright to be afraid, Legolas,” Thranduil replied. “We may lose people we love, but we will never lose the love they leave behind. As long as you remember that, you will always have me, and your naneth.”
Taking shuddering breathes, Legolas nodded, attempting to accept his father’s words. “Nana loved me,” he said. “I know that. I remember.”
“You are dearly loved,” Thranduil replied. “You are my heart, ion-nin.”
A smile brightened Legolas’s face. Throwing his arms around Thranduil’s neck, Legolas flung himself at his father, hugging him with all his might.
Thranduil chuckled and held onto him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “One day, when you are older, I will tell you about the war,” Thranduil whispered, “but for now, slow down. Do not rush these years.”
Legolas was a sniffling, red faced mess, gasping and wiping his wet face on his sleeve.
Resisting the urge to gather Legolas up in his arms and hold him like he had when he was toddling, Thranduil instead tugged gently at his hand.
“Come with me,” he said and guided Legolas towards his bathing chamber.
Thranduil brought a handkerchief to his face, prompting him to blow his nose. Pouring cool water into a basin he soaked a cloth and washed Legolas’s face, trying to ease some of the tension in his tiny brow.
It had been a while since Thranduil had cared for Legolas like this. Feelings of both shame and pride rose up in him. How long it had been, but Thranduil was here for his son now when Legolas needed his father.
“How does that feel?” Thranduil asked.
“Better, ada,” Legolas replied.
“Drink all of this,” Thranduil said handing him a glass of water, and Legolas gulped it down without hesitation.
When there was nothing more to do, Legolas looked away and fidgeted, reluctant to leave. Perhaps Legolas felt he was too old to ask, even though Thranduil could tell he wanted to, so Thranduil asked for him, “Would you like to stay with me tonight?”
Relief flashed across Legolas’s face and he nodded with vigor, taking Thranduil’s hand in his own. Thranduil smiled and led Legolas into his room.
Legolas hopped up onto the bed, bouncing a few times on the large mattress before settling into the side where his mother used to sleep. A smile curved Thranduil’s lips as he watched his son perform that lighthearted action, realizing Legolas was starting to feel better.
Thranduil shrugged out of his dressing gown, and laid it over the back of his chair, then climbed into the bed next to his son. No sooner had he laid down, did Legolas burrow closer to him, wriggling like a worm until he was safe in the sheltered space between Thranduil’s arm and side.
“Good night, ada,” Legolas whispered, yawning into his chest.
“Sleep well, ion-nin,” he replied.
Sleep would be difficult for both of them to come by that night. But as they lay in the bed, warmth pooling between them, Thranduil took his own advice and simply enjoyed being in the presence of his son.
Interview conducted in January 2017, published in Quadruple 2017+Plus magazine in February 2017.
“A 19 Year-Old’s Ideal and Pride”
A new era of men’s singles skating has arrived—the competition heats to astronomical levels as the amount and type of quadruple jumps swells. Uno Shoma has not changed his stance on wanting to be competitive in artistry—continuing to devote himself fully in that area. With his perseverance as a source of strength, this 19 year-old is carving his own path. Working towards his ideal level of skating—this national champion is always giving his all.