YOU BROUGHT ME FLOWERS? I’M AN OLD FASHIONED KIND OF GUY.
ind. priv. selective frank castle and karen page, written by tj and nicole. mature themes present / not spoiler free. promo template found here.
noise dept.

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Kiana Khansmith
Jules of Nature
todays bird
Claire Keane
Misplaced Lens Cap
occasionally subtle
Peter Solarz
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
hello vonnie

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art blog(derogatory)
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda


祝日 / Permanent Vacation
RMH
wallacepolsom

roma★

seen from United States
seen from Malaysia

seen from Singapore
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seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
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seen from Türkiye

seen from United States
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@healedlegacy
YOU BROUGHT ME FLOWERS? I’M AN OLD FASHIONED KIND OF GUY.
ind. priv. selective frank castle and karen page, written by tj and nicole. mature themes present / not spoiler free. promo template found here.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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legacybroke replied to your post: me and tj: make new blogs, get hella excited, are...
I QUIT ALREADY
YOU CAN’T QUIT I ALREADY MADE A PROMO
me and tj: make new blogs, get hella excited, are super pumped and yelling at each other
me and tj: remember we need to do rules / verses / tags / icons
me and tj:
qvake replied to your quote: gonna boot up this game, get darth vader ‘cause...
who said romance is dead
i roasted him for going to a different place to get his queso from his burrito bowl and he’s slaughtering people in this game in my honor, romance is alive and well kiddos

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gonna boot up this game, get darth vader 'cause he's your boy, and then i'm gonna slaughter everyone in your name.
probably the most romantic thing @legacybroke has ever said to me
YOU’D BETTER HIDE THAT HEART OF YOURS, SENATOR AMIDALA. IT WON’T LEAD YOU ANYWHERE YOU WANT TO GO.
( prev. eleutheriana. as adored by nicole. est. 01/2017. not for personal reblog.)
Thread Starters : Kink Edition
unyieldingconviction-archive:
“Pretend you don’t want it.”
“They’re all watching the movie. They’re not even going to notice.”
“I want you. Right up against the window.”
“You know I love you, right? I have every intention of fucking you like I don’t.”
“Don’t pussyfoot around. I want it to hurt.”
“Let me blindfold you.”
“I want to make every inch of you mine.”
“Wrap your hands around my throat.”
“No, no. Leave your clothes on.”
“Home is too far away. No one’s going to see us here.”
“Just sit back and let me give you a show.”
“I want to make you bleed.”
“Relax. I’ll teach you the ropes.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t let you suffocate.”
“Clearly, you’ve never experienced silk sheets properly, then.”
“What would you think about adding a third party?”
“You can’t come until I say so. Understand?”
“That’s it. Touch yourself for me.”
“Bet I can make you come without touching you.”
“No using your hands.”
“Clean yourself for me first.”
“Present yourself for me.”
“I want you to tie me up so I can’t get away.”
“I’m going to tie you to the bed posts and have my way with you.”
“I want you to dominate me.”
“You’re all mine, pet.”
“Oh fuck, yes. Bite me again.”
“Are you sure that’s going to fit?”
“They’re next, after I’m done with you.”
“Just watch it with me. Maybe it’ll give us some ideas.”
“I want you to humiliate me.”
“You’re pathetic. If I wasn’t willing to fuck you, no one would.”
“It’s an ice cube, darling. Do you like it?”
“That’s good. Now spread your legs for me.”
“Don’t touch me. Just watch.”
“Are you sure you know how to use that?”
“I hope you don’t mind whip marks.”
[Text] What are you wearing?
“I want to drip candlewax all over you.”
“I know just how to make you relax.”
“Your muscles are in knots. Better let me rub you down.”
“I got the mirror so you can see yourself while I’m fucking you.”
“You’re not afraid of a little piece of ginger, are you?”
“I want to pour ___ all over you and then lick it off.”
“Oh my. I didn’t know you could move like that.”
“I’m your master/mistress and will be addressed as such.”
“I don’t care if they’re watching. I’m not done with you yet.”
“Oh no. Not until you beg.”
“Tell me how good this feels.”
“On your knees.”
“I’ll do anything you want me to do to you, but you have to say it out loud.”
“Better be quiet or they’ll hear you.”
“Relax your throat.”
“I want you to ride me.”
“Oh, that hurts so good.”
“I want to hear you scream.”
“Better be quiet or they’ll hear you.”
“Strung up with a spreader bar is a good look for you.”
that moment when you’re touch starved but touch averted. i want you to touch me but at the same time if you touch me i’ll break your neck

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i’m riding on / the wind again. –––––– @legacybroke !
Here was something that Jaq probably didn’t know about Red — as much as he LOVED to pretend like he could give two shits about what she and the rest of society thought about him, the truth was just the opposite. The poor boy’s problem wasn’t that he didn’t care, but that he cared WAY too fucking much. The weight of his family name kept broad shoulders sagging constantly — every single action the man took was just an attempt to make that burden a little bit lighter.
Esperanza wasn’t the only one buckling beneath the eyes of the world.
There probably should have been some sort of COOPERATION or SHOT CALLING involved, but Red wasn’t one of her little power rangers. When he sank his teeth into an idea, it was damn near IMPOSSIBLE for the man to let go.
There’s too many things that could go wrong. That guy can see the future. What if I fuck up? What if I get Jaq killed? Can she even BE killed? Do i want to take that fucking chance? Come on, man. You gotta make a move. You gotta fucking DO something. Move your fucking ass, Reginald!
Don’t think, just act.
Don’t think, just act..
Dontthinkjustactdontthinkjustactdontthinkjustactdontthinkjustactdontthinkjustact dontthinkjustactdontthinkjustactdontthinkjustact dontthinkjustactdontthinkjustactdontthinkjustact dontthinkjustactdontthinkjustactdontthinkjustact dontthinkjustactdontthinkjustactdontthinkjustact
DON’T THINK, JUST ACT.
The cowl of telekinetic energy completely engulfed his form, weight shifting as Red bent his knees — gathered strength beneath the balls of his feet. Pushing off, EXPLODING through the surface above in a shower of plaster and wood. Ignoring the roar of blue flames that threatened to swallow him whole — the man CHARGING across the floor, every stomp of his feet sending ripples of information through his being.
Not yet. Not yet. A few more steps. Had to stop her before she unleashed that attack…
SMASH! Red emerged above the sound manipulator, dropping through the ceiling feet first and slamming both the soles of brick red CONVERSE straight into the back of her head — the SONIC SCREAM directed straight down as her skull went jerked towards the floor.
The both of them disappeared from sight as the floor gave way, a gaping MAW stretching several stories beneath them now. The structure was SCREAMING now, fire eating away at its insides like acid as the building began to crumble in on itself.
He’s falling now, body twisting through the air —- air and heat and smoke tearing at his skin and clawing at his throat. Disoriented, it’s Jaq’s SCREAM that gives him clarity. Feet push off against the closest wall, the vigilante ricocheting back and forth off of the plummeting debris.
Flipping and bouncing his way back, Red emerging in the most casual fucking crouch he could muster — even with his breathing labored and his face black with soot.
“ Climb on! Let’s get the FUCK out of here! “
she’s gotta admit: she’s PRETTY FUCKING IMPRESSED, and these days, it’s getting harder and harder to impress the great esperanza. one moment he wasn’t there, the next he was flipping and ricocheting off the burning and crumbling walls to slide to a stop before her, crouching helpfully to let her climb onto his back, like a damn little kid, eager for just one more piggyback ride. it takes her barely a second of hesitation, centered entirely on the gunshot wound just to the right of her belly button and the pressure this’ll apply to it, before she does what he says. her teeth grit against each other at the sudden pain of her stomach against his back and the strain in her shoulder as she clings around his neck, but she says nothing, just blinks until the settings and operations page pops up in her line of vision. she scrolls through the list until she finds the EXIT ROUTE feature, experimental at best, but designed to try and find the fastest and most efficient way out of any situation. it takes the software a moment to boot up, a moment of come on, come on, come on you piece of shit, work with me here, and then it synchronizes itself with some fucking satellite, and they’re in business.
jaq adjusts her grip on him, eyes violet colored and unfocused as she stares at the burning wall across from them. a line’s appeared, glowing a neon shade of purple that leans harder towards blue against the red and white and black of the atmosphere around them, showing her the fastest and safest route out of the building. ( still, the software gives them a 75% chance of escape without additional injury, and STRONGLY suggests she call for backup. jaq dismisses the warning with a leftward flick of her gaze. ) ❛ the main stairwell’s done for, ❜ she says, a little quieter than she’d intended, and hopes he’s still able to hear her, given the proximity to his ear. ❛ take a right up here; if we’re lucky, we’ll be able to make it to the window before this floor collapses. ❜ she’s got no idea if he’s going to listen to her; if she’s learned anything in the last ten minutes ( and god, has it really only taken a handful of minutes ? ) , it’s that red has a mind of his own. she respects that. it’s fucking annoying in this kinda situation, but she still respects it.
her neck’s starting to itch something fierce, the bright red leeching from her skin, replacing itself with new skin cells, and by the time the itching and the pain dulls, she adjusts her grip on him, slides two fingers just barely under the neckline of his shirt. the backs of her knuckles of her thumb and forefinger press against his skin, initiating another healing process. the last thing they need is for that knee of his to give out, and that crash she’d heard a bit ago CAN’T have felt good. ❛ you sure you’ve got this ? ❜
Glossary
legacybroke:
Since this kind of went from me just creating a character to me creating an entire fucking world, I decided to go ahead and make a quick little in-universe reference guide so I don’t have to do exposition all the time.
I’ll be adding to this as Red’s story develops.
[Baba Yaga]: The former leader of the Coalition and infamously referred to as ‘ the most dangerous woman in the world ‘ Her telekinetic abilities were said to be so powerful she could level a city with enough concentration.
After the event of December 22, the witch was never seen again.
[The Coalition]: With the formation of the Liberty Council came the GOLDEN AGE, and with it a dramatic decrease in crime. With the good guys all mobilized and unity, it was pretty difficult to live on the other side of the law.
Until seven individuals came together. Rallied the fallen and the destitute. Broken them down and forged them into something anew. Something powerful.
This was how the Coalition was born.
In 1987 the two groups would clash for the final time in an event known as THE DAY THE EARTH STOOD STILL, leaving the organization destroyed and their leader, the BABA YAGA, missing and presumed dead.
As of the present, the group is still disbanded — though there are many villains and anarchist thats still use the name in order to invoke fear and respect.
[Coastal City]: Located in New Jersey, US, the aquatic metropolitan is home to the LIBERTY COUNCIL. With their global popularity, millions flock from all over the world to visit the city of heroes. Crime is low to moderate ( depending on your definition ) on any given day, though there have been a recent string of incidents that some are dubbing terrorist attacks, possibly by the group known as the Coalition.
[The Day the Earth Stood Still]: December 22, 1987. When the forces of the LC and the Coalition clashed for the final time.
[Esperanza]: Grandaughter of the legendary STRONGHOLD, she is the current leader of the Liberty Council. Currently in a relationship with the hero Atlas, who is also her second-in-command. Possesses the ability to heal others as well as recover from any injury.
[Liberty Council]: A US Government funded and approved super team headquartered in COASTAL CITY. While there are various other organizations all over the country ( not to mention globally ), the LC is the most well known and well renowned. Established some times in 1950′s, the current roster mostly consist of legacy heroes — those that come from a long line of Council members.
The LC boast a shocking 99.9 percent success rating when it comes to missions and operations, though rumor has it the organization isn’t willing to pursue heroics with even the slightest chance of failure.
The current lineup is lead by the superheroine known as ESPERANZA.
[Stronghold] One of the original founding members of the Liberty Council and known throughout the universe as ‘ the Strongest Man Alive. ‘ Baba Yaga was his archenemy.
[License to Commit Heroic Acts]: Typically referred to solely as a “Heroic License” or simply a “license.” The process to receive a license varies greatly based on what level you apply for; a LEVEL THREE license is the most common, and the process is as simple and painless as applying for a driver’s license. Level Three Heroes answer to local law enforcement and are typically treated as unprofessional amateurs: think the Rent-A-Cops of the superhero world. LEVEL TWO licenses are more expensive, and more rigorous in their application process; Level Two Heroes work in tandem with and at the same level of local law enforcement, and are able to form their own heroic leagues, though they’re on a minor scale ( think minor league baseball vs major league baseball but with heroes. ) . LEVEL ONE licenses are the most expensive and most rigorous, and most people who apply for them do not end up receiving the license at the end of their application process. Becoming a Level One Hero is a rigorous and expensive process, but offers you access to more resources, better leagues, and means that you answer to no one outside of the federal government.
[Visor]: A piece of technology that all members of the Liberty Council wear; visible only as different colored ( depending on the wearer; for example, Esperanza’s contacts are bright purple, where another member’s might be blue, or green ) and luminescent contact lenses, strategic blinking and tapping of the temples allows them to cycle through different functions, such as x ray vision, a thermal detector, warning messages regarding incoming attacks / changes in the air quality, and in some cases, a sniper scope. It digitally connects to the comm system they wear in their ears, and records everything they see when activated.
I did my first ever warm smoky eye look for work today and my eyes look so green I’m alive
@legacybroke and i are arguing over the best way to end it all when we get too old to take care of ourselves and he’s trying to explain why stepping in front of a train is a bad idea and i’m trying to defend it and i feel like it just really says a lot about who we are as people
literary sexts vol. 1 poetry meme
Literary Sexts is a modern day anthology of short love poems with subtle erotic undertones edited by Amanda Oaks & Caitlyn Siehl. Hovering around 50 contributors & 124 poems, this book reads is like one long & very intense conversation between two lovers. It’s absolutely breathtaking. These are poems that you would text to your lover. Poems that you would slip into a back pocket, suitcase, wallet or purse on the sly. Poems that you would write on slips of paper & stick under your crush’s windshield wiper. Poems that you would write on a Post-it note & leave on the bathroom mirror. Treat yourself, a crush or a lover with this lush gift!
source and amazon buy link.
I will be providing select short, sometimes edited, poems for a texting/”sexting” meme, but not the whole book itself. If you enjoy the poems provided, please support the collection whether it’s the first volume or the second. Or look into the works of the various contributors and see if anything else they’ve written is to your liking!
Feel free to add to and/or edit these sentences to better suit your needs—but remember, many of these work best in the context of texts and/or love notes instead of spoken dialogue. —Lizzy.
Mark me like a passage from your favorite book, then open me there again and again.
My skin is full of flowerbeds and you know every way to make them bloom.
I am tracing the knobs of your spine like the map of my favorite continent. You are all the places I haven’t visited yet and I mark each one off with my teeth.
Your hands unzip me one breath at a time; there is not room beneath my skin for all of you and I spill over the edges with a sigh.
You take apart my heart in pieces with your mouth, but the splash of your tongue against mine feeds it back to me. It tastes sweeter coming from you.
You opened your mouth and spoke the language in my blood.
You kiss me and there aren’t sparks. There’s an entire orchestra in my chest, playing staccato on my heart strings.
My hands are nomads, my dear desert. May they never find rest.
Being small things, we understand this as our humble attempt at thunder, at setting the world to shake.
Delicate work. Like peeling kiwis. My tongue across your skin. Mellow flesh against my lips. Your taste always in my mouth.
How a storms needs to feel the earth how the earth wakes to the pelt of rain how the ground is quenched is how I need you…
My hands were glaciers I never dared to move freely, my fingers icicles. Your touch thawed me to excavation. I want to dig into your warmth.
Kiss me like white bread, stick to my teeth even after the whiskey. I want memories of your mouth lodged beneath my tongue to wake me at two in the morning, hungry.
I want you next to me, in my bed, your clothes making friends with my floor. Love me hard enough so we wake up the neighbors.
Your hands peeling that onion, thumbs and forefingers pulling skin from skin—they are sacred. Let me kiss them. Let them bless my sinning chest, let them peel my lips apart.
I don’t want to be your harmonies anymore; I want to be the melody you scream when your heart is starving for love. I want to satisfy your hunger.
Show me the parts of you that nobody else ever wanted to sleep with. Show me it all with the lights on.
You, darling, are Vesuvius. I won’t see you coming. Erupt. Wreck me. Leave me ashes leave me Pompeii, leave me outlined into your history forever.
It’s not so much that I want to kiss you. I want to relearn vocabulary words from the shape of your mouth. All my poems are yours first.
Kiss me blossoms in the summer, lover. I want to taste the succulent sweet of your peach tree smile. This time let Adam take the fruit from the garden.
Surge into me as a downpour, as the pounding waterfall which makes swollen rivers flood, as the sea.
The happy ending to this night: you tug my hair and lightly brush your hand across my lap. Don’t forget how resilient I am and how I would bend for you.
Even my lungs are in love as we breathe together.
I don’t just want to take your breath away. I want to rip it from your mouth and keep it locked away between my teeth. You can only have it back if you kiss me again.
The gentle friction of your hand on my thigh is enough to strike a match inside me. I lean into your lips and the fire blooms and spreads.
You are an undiscovered continent. I trail my fingers down your mountainsides. Ten explorers digging for buried treasure, I want to take it all.
My body is a gospel and you are my first quivering hallelujah. Your breath leaves your mouth like a prayer and washes over me like faith.
My hands are hungry for your flesh, desperate in the way that rivers empty themselves over waterfalls.
I peel back your skin to see if we have the same scars. I follow the map of your veins back to your heart and press my palm against yours to tangle our lifelines.
I hope to breathe in you. I hope my body will be the blood your roots drink.
We commit sins in holy places, fold ourselves between pews like dirty pictures tucked into a bible. Pant each other’s names until they sound like scripture.
My tongue collides with your collarbone like a meteor careening across the cosmos, and I taste the stars you are made of.
You kiss me with your mouth wide open like you’re not afraid of swallowing poison. I taste the good and bad in you and want them both. We call this bravery.
You, benevolent god, legs splayed like instruments of creation. I, blank slate of the universe, kneel in wait for you to fill me with your hot, honeyed light.
My hands are suntanned tourists without a map whose desire compels them onward to explore your golden cities by the light of the stars.
The moment between your thighs where I become a devout follower of your existence. That hour which passes in slow seconds of soft skin, as I lay my head against you, drifting, drowsy with love.
Your grin is a flash of primal fire in the dark. Somewhere deep inside me, something hungry wakens and shifts, uncurls its insatiable tongue.
I have been thinking of how I want to be touched by you, with hands that will play me like piano keys, with fingers that will make a symphony out of me.
You till the soil of my need, my lips a blood-red flower bursting open with the first wet flush of your heat.
When it comes right down to it, all that nonsense about hearts syncing up feels like a hallelujah with our bodies pressed together like praying hands.
Every time, you peel back my skin, pry open my ribs, and feast on my insides. Every time, you make a meal of my heart, and every time, I let you.
You’re not one for poetry or sentimentality, so I’ll just say that I’ve dreamt of being the motor oil trapped in the grooves of your weathered hands.
I ache for your hum between my legs, the purring of motorcycles on winding highways: wind in my hair, and romance in losing myself to the sweet, revving vibration of the engine again and again.
You smile and it’s like sunrise. Something inside me Wakes up, stretching.
I float away in cool sheets against my burning skin, and you are the sea guiding me beyond the realm of earthly things.
My lipstick spills over your mouth and trickles down to your chin, your neck, pooling into your collarbones. We love like crushed grapes in wine country.
You’re kissing a wildfire up my thigh and I am tracing the landscape of your jawbone like a sculptor. My hands were made for this.
The rush you give me: The way a blade of grass must feel when splashed with a cloud’s cry after days of screaming for rain.
We are the fall of Rome, all fire and fighting. We collapse into each other like the pieces of the Parthenon, kissing like gladiators, loving like rebuilding.
You creep into my head like a river rushing for the sea & a cosmic digit of fingertips flash over me.
You are pressing against me like I press flowers against the pages in my book. You are kissing my neck and it feels like the start of forever. I want to touch you until my palms burn.
The wet of your mouth rains down my neck like frame, the soft heat of your tongue burns the apple in my throat. We are practiced at this love that asks angels to cover their eyes and turns devils shy.
I melt into the gentleness of your fingertips. Your tongue presses me open like the summer fresh flesh of a perfectly ripe fig, all juice, seeds and pulp.
The small of your back is refuge, is veldt, is summer heat. And I am predatory snarl.
I can’t brush out the taste of you; coffee breath, cigarette smoke, and all. Mouth to mouth; Our shared vices linger on each other. Your salt still lives in my tongue.
I’ll take you quiet as the bones in your closet, love as softly as a whisper. Holding your tongue like a secret.
You smiled and lit up like the dusk. I sank to your lips like the sun against the horizon. We made the day stand still.
I want to kiss you until you melt into me, ice turning to water. I want to drink you deep, and warm you from the inside.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
― WE ARE BONELESS. we are boiling-hot blood. we are a frenzy of atoms rearranging themselves into other atoms. we are breath, then stillness, then silence, then silvery and soft.
YOU’D BETTER HIDE THAT HEART OF YOURS, SENATOR AMIDALA. IT WON’T LEAD YOU ANYWHERE YOU WANT TO GO.
( prev. eleutheriana. as adored by nicole. est. 01/2017. not for personal reblog.)