Garona is Great

40 Bi She/Her | Bethesda + Bioware + Blizzard | 18+ Only

[butchcody]

IMPORTANT POLL BELOW

If person A is wearing the strap, and person B is riding them cowboy style, is Person A topping or bottoming?

Person A is topping

Person A is bottoming

Remaining time: 19 hours 10 minutes

Reblogs for visibility are welcome 🙏

[butchcody]

There is a wrong answer btw

[dalishious]

Among these "cishet" Dragon Age women, who would you make queer?

Morrigan

Anora

Aveline

Meredith

Cassandra

Someone else (leave in tags)

Remaining time: 2 days 20 hours

[scalproie]

I hope I'm not just a blog to you guys but also a gateway to acquire secondhand knowledge of medias you'll never get into

[thedaswolves]

Just Taash being stunning ❤️‍🔥

thank you @flowersforthemachines for making your Shokari Forehead mod compatible with my catliner ❤

[sxpxrmxrgxr]

[classichorrorblog]

Predator Directed by John McTiernan (1987)

[feluka]

i hate the way fat antagonists have their weight moralized and used as a metaphor for greed and corruption and i hate the way it's overcorrected into fat people being "soft squishy friend-shaped cupcakes who look like they give incredible hugs" and i long for the day we have nuanced, interesting, and complicated fat characters and most of all i long for the day people are normal about fatness

[swindlefingrs]

i just know i can work pegging into this somehow

[theforsakenprince]

Bet it feels good as fuckkk to rest your hand on the pommel of your sword when the newcomer steps a little too close to your lord who you’ve sworn to protect with your life

[plus-size-aesthetics]

[schrl]

"Bloody boots are melting."

"Shall I carry you?"

"Hells. Would you?"

[garlicbunny]

“ok lets do warm up sketch”

“oh..”

[helen--richardson]

"The best part of being fat is being soft and comfy to cuddle with" "The best part of being fat is knowing people like you for your personality and not your looks" Wrong. The best part of being fat is getting to swim in ice-cold water for FAR longer than my peers. My skinny friends can barely last 10 minutes in the pacific ocean without losing feeling in their fingers meanwhile i can be in there for HOURS. I was born to swim in glacial lakes and icemelt streams. Also I float.

[wyrmzone]

[swindlefingrs]

For Now: Chapter Three

Rating: Mature

Fandom: Diablo IV

Characters: Kennach the Wanderer, Lorath Nahr

Relationships: Lorath x the Wanderer

[ Chapter One ] [ Chapter Two ] [ Chapter Three ]

The Hatred's Wake sails for Skovos. Lorath hates being at sea and Kennach has things to say before they make land.

Each time Lorath steps on a ship he wonders if this will be the trip where he finally finds out what it means to have sea legs. Or if he’ll spend the entire journey bent over the side feeding the seagulls whatever he last ate.

They’re two days at sea and the gulls appreciate his benevolence all the way to Skovos.

Kennach is about the decks somewhere, they sat at breakfast together this morning. Evidently she still tries to watch the sunrise when she can.

No doubt she’s finding more out about the Oracle and where they can find her, from anyone aboard. She’d stop to talk to a rock if it looked puzzled. Still, she’d find what she came for.

The sun is bright, the waves whip and dip and his stomach lurches again. And so does the last of his breakfast, over the side railing. His ribs ache and he grimaces standing back up.

“Better out than in.” Kennach coaches.

“Come to put me out of my misery?” he coughs. He spits out what’s left in his throat over the railing and resigns himself to a few more hours of this.

“You should be so lucky.” She offers him a remedy from a small wooden box. “Let it melt under your tongue, don’t chew it. It’ll help the nausea.”

He nods. Like an oyster with a pearl, he slips the remedy under his tongue. It tastes awful. Peppermint and… something. Which means it should work. No one would eat this on purpose.

“Once you feel better, come and find me. I don’t think we’ll have a chance to speak once we make land.” Kennach brushes her hand against his lower back and she wades back through the assembled pilgrims towards the stern. 

She swats away a pickpocket. Or shoves, if he’s being honest. Kennach stops to retie her hair, taking a moment to make silly faces at a crying child. Her face crinkles with a smile as the baby quiets. The family shuffles away and Lorath watches the joy slide off of Kennach’s face. All that’s left is the far-away stare of someone with three days of grief in their heart.

By the time the remedy dissolves, he’s made his way through the crowd of believers to the back deck. Pilgrims chatter and fall to their knees in devotion, clasping hands and muttering prayers. Back here, though, there are fewer people, fewer prayers, at least they have the illusion of privacy on a full ship. The sun glints off of the churning waves of the ship’s wake.

“You look less green. How do you feel?” She calls to him, looking up from a pocketbook of notes, leaning against lashed cargo. She’s mastered a rakish lean. Damn her.

“Feel less green, too.”

“Hm.”

“What’s on your mind?” Lorath takes a sturdy stance next to the railing. Just in case he has more sea life to feed.

“I know Neyrelle told you to stay safe, to stay away from her. I remember the letter she left us.”

“Aye, after the soulstone.”

“I thought you were staying away from Nahantu because of that. Because she asked you to.”

But that’s not what he admitted to in Ked Bardu when she pressed him about it. He left her to guard Neyrelle’s battle with Mephisto alone, to be the only witness to what he couldn’t face. He had told himself it didn’t matter. It did.

Lorath lets the moment bleed.

“I couldn’t do anything. She was right in front of me, struggling to stay afloat and I had no rope to throw her. I get handed another letter and now Neyrelle is–” Kennach looks at him, sharp and wide-eyed, before shaking her head and composing herself. He’d spent too much time on the road to not have noticed when she scares off the bear that lives just under her skin. She takes a deep breath and hums a note to herself.

“You decided I didn’t need help.” She scowls at him, “I earned more goodwill from you than that.”

Goodwill. All they’ve managed to accomplish in spite of everything and all she asks for is consideration. His guilt solidifies just under his ribcage.

“Aye. You were owed better.”

He lets the silence hang as his repentance. Hers as acceptance, perhaps. But he’ll wait to see if there’s more he can take account for. She slumps back against the railing rubbing the heels of her hands into her eyes before addressing him again.

“Just… don’t do it again.”

Lorath watches the ship’s wake churning below them, stood by her side.

“Please tell me you're not an outlaw in Skovos.”

“Not this time, no."

[ Chapter One ] [ Chapter Two ] [ Chapter Three ]

[distantvoices]

Yseult By Thibault-Théodore Babin For i-D Magazine October 2020

[misscromwellsmonocle]

The Lazy Italian Girl (1757) by Jean Baptiste Greuze

[displacer-beasts]

Thinking about Lorath traveling and writing this book all to help Neyrelle.

Only to never be able to give it to her. Even with the time our Wanderer bought her, it wasn't enough.

He arrived too late.