#amphibious car

[eurotrip]

[danskjavlarna]

Source details and larger version.

[aucklanzd]

1952 Jowett Bradford

1978 Morris Marina

2005 Gibbs Aquada (amphibious vehicle - NZ)

[alfaromeole]

I kind of like this fishy car: Amphicar 770 (1961–1968), the little man's whimsical yacht, constructed by Hans Trippel. A bowl of grease has always belonged on board. After every trip on the water, 13 nipples had to be lubricated. On solid ground, an estimated 120 km/h was the reward, in the water up to 6.5 knots.

[demoness-one]

im on my bullshit again 🥺

[aiautos]

Oh? It appears that Camp Wanwanaca wasn't the only camp resort to preserve the legacy of their amphicar fleet. Here we have a selection of preserved amphicars from camps and resorts across the country. As you can see, they've got all sorts of different designs, which is a byproduct of their in-house nature. My personal favorite is the blue-and-orange trike-style model sitting in front of the fireplace.

[growingrobinart]

by Robin M Koppensteiner growingrobin.com

Do you have any idea, for how many years I've hoped to see a Fire Salamander again? Me neither. That long. This was most likely a car accident. This species is close to extinction. Evolution's a b!tch sometimes.

[retroboldphotography]

[mikeshouts]

WaterCar EV: It’s Pretty Much A Boat With Wheels

Now you can drive your boat all the way to your home and into the garage 😄

Follow us for more Tech Culture and Lifestyle Stuff.

[h2opanther]

H2O Amphibious: Crafting Panther XL - Innovative Land to Water Vehicles

In the realm of transportation innovation, H2O Amphibious has emerged as a pioneer with their remarkable creation - the Panther XL. This revolutionary vehicle seamlessly transitions from Land to Water, offering an unparalleled experience for adventure seekers and practical enthusiasts alike. Let's dive into the world of the Panther XL and explore the exciting features that make it stand out.

Panther XL: A Marvel of Engineering

The Panther XL is not just a car; it's a marvel of engineering that effortlessly navigates both roads and waterways. With its sleek design and robust construction, this amphibious vehicle captures the essence of versatility. Crafted with precision, the Panther XL promises a smooth and safe transition between land and water, making it an ideal choice for those seeking a unique and adventurous ride.

Land to Water Transition

One of the key highlights of the Panther XL is its seamless transition between land and water. Whether you're cruising down the highways of Saudi Arabia or exploring the water channels of Dubai, the Panther XL adapts effortlessly. The transition is user-friendly, allowing drivers to switch between modes with ease, making it a practical choice for various terrains.

Performance and Power

Equipped with a powerful engine, the Panther XL ensures a dynamic performance both on land and in the water. The responsive handling and impressive speed capabilities make every journey a thrilling experience. The vehicle's robust design and advanced technology contribute to a reliable and efficient performance, making it a top choice for those who value both style and substance.

Panther Watercar for Sale - Your Ticket to Adventure

For those in search of the ultimate adventure companion, the Panther XL is now available for purchase. H2O Amphibious brings you the opportunity to own this extraordinary vehicle, combining the thrill of a car and the freedom of a boat. Visit the official H2O Panther website to explore the various models, features, and pricing options.

Panther Car Boat for Sale in Saudi Arabia and Dubai

If you're in Saudi Arabia or Dubai and ready to embark on a new era of transportation, the Panther XL is within your reach. H2O Amphibious is making waves in these regions, offering the Panther XL for sale to those who seek the extraordinary. Don't miss the chance to own a piece of cutting-edge technology that redefines the boundaries between land and water.

Conclusion

In a world where innovation knows no bounds, the Panther XL from H2O Amphibious stands out as a testament to human ingenuity. Blurring the lines between traditional vehicles, this amphibious marvel opens up a world of possibilities for adventure enthusiasts and practical commuters alike. Visit the official H2O Panther website and make the Panther XL your ticket to a one-of-a-kind land-to-water experience. Whether you're in Saudi Arabia or Dubai, the Panther XL awaits, ready to redefine your journey in the most exciting way possible.

[primusliber-traduzioni]

Jimmy Eat World - Jimmy Eat World, traduzione testi

La testa bassa, deluso

Non c’è mai in giro nessuno quando ho più bisogno

(da: Patches)

1. Jimmy Eat World – Chachi, traduzione

Chachi

   Prendimi e buttami giù dalla torre alta 40 piani, così mi spiaccico per terra

Devo confessare che non sono rimasto colpito dalla tua corda infinita

   Dai un po’ un’occhiata

   Guarda che da uomo mi sciolgo in un ragazzino

E sono sempre nell’associazione ad honorem

Con tutto quello che c’è in giro

Ma senza attirare l’attenzione

   Sono proprio curioso di sapere come e perché non ci dovremmo stupire (quindi non chiedere perché)

Coperte rimboccate, tirate indietro, infarto

Eppure sembra che non gliene frega niente a nessuno

   Prendimi e buttami giù dalla torre alta 40 piani, così mi spiaccico per terra

Devo confessare che non sono rimasto colpito dalla tua corda infinita

   Ho visto la scadenza che influenzava la ventilazione

Obbligami, dolcezza (quindi non chiedere perché)

Addio

       2. Jimmy Eat World – Patches, traduzione

Toppe

   Non sono preoccupato per la mia vita, è troppo tardi

Macchie per terra sul tappeto

E penso di aver trovato una via d’uscita

Giù dalle scale, gira l’angolo

Svegliami, mettimi sottosopra

   La testa bassa, deluso

Non c’è mai in giro nessuno quando ho più bisogno

Adesso rimbalza

   Non sono preoccupato per la mia vita, è troppo tardi

Macchie per terra sul tappeto

E pensavo di aver trovato una via d’uscita

Giù dalle scale, gira l’angolo

Svegliami, mettimi sottosopra

   La testa bassa, deluso

Non c’è mai in giro nessuno quando ho più bisogno

Adesso rimbalza, rimbalza

       3. Jimmy Eat World – Amphibious, traduzione

Anfibio

   Mi sentivo solo e trentadue volte sono finito in galera

Adoro rubare, adoro sentirmi osservato da voi

E non ci andrò mai in centro città

E starò sempre con la testa bassa

   Te lo vedo negli occhi, va tutto a fuoco

Mi sa che ce l’ho fatta

Che ti guardi?

Schiacceranno il pedale

Non è un gioco

   Sporco, sporco, sporco, sporco mi vedrai

Non è che posso sempre guardarmi le spalle, è una trappola

E non ci andrò mai in centro città

E starò sempre con la testa bassa

   Te lo vedo negli occhi, va tutto a fuoco

Mi sa che ce l’ho fatta

Che ti guardi?

Schiaccerà il pedale

Non è un gioco

   E non ci andrò mai in centro città

E starò sempre con la testa bassa

       4. Jimmy Eat World – Splat Out of Luck, traduzione

Sfortunato forte

   Le mie intenzioni crescono ma non vanno da nessuna parte, proprio da nessuna parte

L’ho già visto una volta, ma l’ho perso dentro a qualcosa

Mi hanno fatto fermare il cuore

   E pensi di aver visto tutto ormai

Ma ti domandi dove vado

Sto crescendo dalla parte giusta del torto

È troppo tardi, arrivi troppo tardi

   “Che succede?” è la mia domanda

Sono proprio sfortunato, sfortunato forte?

   E pensi di aver visto tutto ormai

Ma ti domandi dove vado

Sto crescendo dalla parte giusta del torto

È troppo tardi, arrivi troppo tardi

       5. Jimmy Eat World – House Arrest, traduzione

Arresti domiciliari

   Non riesco a piegare le braccia e le gambe

Per favore, firmami il gesso oppure rimani senza di me

E lo vedrò il giorno che potrai venire a casa mia a giocare con me

   Ci vediamo domattina

Non vedi che sono in castigo?

Sto sottoterra

Faccio il matto dopotutto perché i bambini lo possono fare

Lo sappiamo tutti che in parole povere non mi gira mai bene niente

   E lo vedrò il giorno

E lo ammazzerò il giorno, il giorno

E lo vedrò il giorno che potrai venire a casa mia a giocare con me

   Ci vediamo domattina

Non vedi che sono in castigo?

Sto sottoterra

Faccio il matto dopotutto perché i bambini lo possono fare

Lo sappiamo tutti che in parole povere non mi gira mai bene niente

       6. Jimmy Eat World – Usery, traduzione

Usura

   Non voglio stare sveglio il venerdì sera

Però non voglio stare sveglio lì il sabato sera

   Non voglio stare sveglio il venerdì sera

Però non voglio stare sveglio lì il sabato sera

Non voglio stare sveglio il venerdì sera

Non voglio stare lì

   Quando è finita, quando muoio di fame

Te lo potrebbero strappare via di mano?

Sì, sono proprio io, tutto quello che hai visto e sentito

E tu invece?

Sei solo la ragazza della porta accanto

   Per cui adesso sei lì che aspetti di scoprire che è qualcosa

Speri di metterci sù la tua faccia ad ogni modo

Mollalo, prendilo di petto

Adesso riprenditelo, adesso sollevalo

Riportalo indietro adesso ancora una volta

   Quando è finita, quando muoio di fame

Metti a riposo la mano insieme alla testa

Sì, sono proprio io, tutto quello che hai fatto e visto

Steso per terra alle 6:30 e ci sei tu

   Di’ che vuoi così, così

   Tu dillo giusto, dillo

       7. Jimmy Eat World – Wednesday, traduzione

Mercoledì

   Vi presento una parte di me che ha la sensazione che un giorno sì e uno no viene vista nelle foto e nei vicoli

La vedi attraverso le tue pareti

La vedi attraverso le tue cadute

La vedi sul tuo pavimento, direzione sbagliata

Alza quella testa, mercoledì

È quasi troppo tardi

   Quando cominciano a crollare le pareti, ti troveranno per ultimo

Va bene così, liquore di malto

   Puoi promettermi un giorno

Di’ che lo farai, di’ che lo farai e poi non lo fai

   Vi presento una parte di me che ha la sensazione che un giorno sì e uno no viene vista nelle foto e nei vicoli

La vedi attraverso le tue pareti

La vedi attraverso le tue cadute

La vedi sul tuo pavimento, direzione sbagliata

Alza quella testa, mercoledì

È quasi troppo tardi

   Quando cominciano a crollare le pareti, ti troveranno per ultimo

Va bene così, liquore di malto

   Puoi promettermi un giorno

Di’ che lo farai, di’ che lo farai e poi non lo fai

       8. Jimmy Eat World – Crooked, traduzione

Storto

   Come mai pensi che ti voglio solo perché non mi basta mai?

Se la conclusione è finita, perché ne vuoi ancora?

Può diventare una vera scocciatura

Ti faccio girare intorno

   Sei falsa

È un reato?

È finita, non ho altro da perdere

Mollami, vattene in fretta

   Ti sei chiesta perché?

Mi piacerebbe poter sorridere

Chiudi bene il coperchio con tutta la tua forza

Chi primo arriva meglio alloggia

Sarà giusto?

   Sei falsa

È un reato?

È finita, non ho altro da perdere

Mollami, vattene in fretta

       9. Jimmy Eat World – Reason 346, traduzione

Motivo 346

   Ci ignorano dicendomi che sono cieco, cercando di leggermi nel pensiero

E nella peggiore delle ipotesi, mi sa che sarò il primo a non essere più lo stesso

   Non è colpa nostra

Io non c’ero

Le vanno i capelli e non gli occhi e non è costato nulla

Sono caduto in ginocchio

Attaccato come le pulci

Visto in TV e ha fatto effetto

   E chi erano loro per giudicare?

Poteva andare molto peggio

Non doveva per forza essere uno sforzo tale

Ci hanno costretti a dormire, che non voleva dire nulla

Passo di lì gratis

Stufo di essere triste risollevandomi da una caduta

Io me ne voglio chiamar fuori

   Non è colpa nostra

Io non c’ero

Le vanno i capelli e non gli occhi e non è costato nulla

Sono caduto in ginocchio

Attaccato come le pulci

Visto in TV e ha fatto effetto

   Vieni giù

Vieni giù

Di te non è rimasta nemmeno una traccia

Sogni e la mia Circle K

Sogni e la mia Circle K

Sogni e la mia Circle K

Ecco dove ti può recuperare tua mamma adesso

       10. Jimmy Eat World – Scientific, traduzione

Scientifico

   A 20 milioni di miglia di distanza c’è qualcosa in arrivo

Un maremoto dallo spazio, ed è vicinissimo

Esci un attimo, è in avanzamento, ti conviene stare in guardia

Un difensore è scomparso e lo rivogliamo indietro

   Come saranno i ragazzi nella storia?

È uguale, fortunato a esserci ancora

Lo sa spiegare la scienza

Ho capito tutto quanto male

   Le nostre menti si sono focalizzate sul 18 in 86

Svegliati, prendi sù, uccidici tutti, sono cresciuto

Sali un attimo, è in avanzamento, ti conviene stare in guardia

Un difensore è scomparso e lo rivogliamo indietro

   Come saranno i ragazzi nella storia?

È uguale, fortunato a esserci ancora

Lo sa spiegare la scienza

Ho capito tutto quanto male

       11. Jimmy Eat World – Cars, traduzione

Macchine

   “Okay, Tom, devi bere qualcosa”

   Ommioddio, puoi salvarmi la vita?

Non vuol dire per forza che devi badare a me

Ma guardati un po’

Gran figo, eh? Puntuale

   Non c’è spazio per mamacita, non c’è spazio per mamacita

Non c’è spazio per mamacita, non c’è spazio per mamacita

Tieniti forte

   “Benone”, ecco cosa dirai cadendo per terra

Le vanno le foglie tra i capelli

Ma guardati un po’

Gran figo, eh? Puntuale

   “Hey, hey ragazzi, hey, secondo me, hey

Senti… senti…

Riff di Scientific”

[janumun]

A Lemurian’s Guide to Love (LaDS Rafayel – General NSFW Headcanons) 

Rated: NSFW/18+ Tags: oral and vaginal sex, body worship, fingering, praise kink, facial, hand kink, Rafayel shenanigans, allusions to spoilers for Rafayel’s myth dates, certain ASMRs and his character story Words: ~3k

Author’s Notes: The chokehold this man has on me (!!!) has led me to exploring Rafayel’s sexual foray as well as smidges of how I imagine his relationship to progress with his beloved in these headcanons. 

Please take careful note of those tags and rating and proceed at your own discretion!  

With that said, I hope you enjoy your read. 

Rafayel has stood by and waited for you; over the course of several years — from that fated meeting and the result: a promise borne and broken — and through the descent of the sands of time.  

And while he likes to consider himself a patient man — and to a degree, he has been just that; endurance incarnate over the course of those long, arduous years without his beloved at his side — when he does finally come across you, Rafayel finds his resolve ripple, and then gradually implode, into paper-thin fragments of yearning and fond desire.  

From how Rafayel oft presents his public persona to the world — cool and dispassionate; a tepid smile on the ready for strangers who wish to garner his favour or attentions, one wouldn’t even think to scratch past that surface. The task of avoiding unnecessary engagements, especially since his return to Linkon City a few years prior, preceding his debut as an artist, is one he finds particularly cumbersome.  

But during intimate moments, reserved for just the two of you, you see that exact same Rafayel — that handsome, charismatic artistic talent plastered, glossy, across covers of magazines and billboards — mould into silly scowls. A flair for the dramatics the minute he senses your attentions are not his alone for the taking. Ridiculous and feline-like in his excuses of demands from his ‘bodyguard’, to allow him her company.  

After an endurance survived this incredibly long, he finds that in certain matters, he can no longer wait.  

Great Lemurian entity he may be, but his habits fit firmer akin to a cat’s rather than any fish you’ve kept as a pet.  

He likes to tease and prod at you, wind you up and then, burst into subdued laughter the moment you take his bait. He’s frighteningly adept at stringing you along to his whims, a certain boyish charm you’ve never seen him utilize on any of his vast majority of fans in public. 

He loves to drag you out to impromptu sea-shell collecting ‘dates’ along the shores of Whitesand Bay, to capture the perfect pearlescent pink and silvers, to grind into paint on days he moans of “not having enough inspiration to paint’.

Tows you along for long drives in the vermillion convertible he was provided by Thomas, purchased from Rafayel’s private funds [the correct color he insisted on getting for the car before a poor Thomas was finally able to fulfil his request].  

Had you both stranded miles away from home once, when he had a punctured tire and ‘forgot’ to ensure he had a spare to change, in case of emergencies.  

And when you biked him back the rest of the way on a rental bicycle, you had the very nagging suspicion he wasn’t too upset about the mishap as he hummed an odd tune, seated behind you. Bodies close enough you felt the gentle vibrations of his voice deep within your bones, along with the steady movement of the tires hitting the paved road.  

Truly a feline more than any amphibious creature. 

A wondrous man, a delightful dissonance of character.

That very same man, when the two of you hold each other for the first time: 

His digits scour a delicate path across your face, your jaw, down your neckline; Rafayel is incredibly, uncharacteristically quiet the first night you are his. Bathed a sterling blue under the watery gaze of the moon. Save for the thick hitch of his breath with the unveiling of bare skin, he is mute.  

His eyes, however, a crisp indigo, seem to set an inextinguishable fire to the rest of your clothes.  

He observes — engraves into memory — first with his gaze, and then, his fingers follow. Long, tapered digits mapping the shape of your breasts, thumb denting gentle at the peaks of them. A grip he tests, firm, against the supple flesh of your waist, flaring outwards into the soft squish of your hips.  

He makes a sound then; incoherent, incomprehensible. Perhaps, an unconscious break of language into his native Lemurian tongue; the hoarse, barely compacted passion of it, however, conveyed to you in feelings.  

You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.  

Your first night is incredibly long, Rafayel shows you truly what it means to be made love to, you nearly weep of joy and pleasure.  

He has waited, oh he has pined and wanted, for so long. It’s a surreal and soul shattering experience for him, just the blessing of you naked underneath his fingers alone, has all of Rafayel’s pretenses unravelling, all masks and facades falling away.  

The first time, there is no teasing, no hiding.

Rafayel is immaculately thorough in his exploration of your body. His fingers; his preferred medium of following the swells and dips of his canvas — your body.  

Unfortunately, and yet so very delightful for you; he takes his time sketching across your body throughout the night, providing no chance of rest or relief from the torrential waves of pleasure he crests through your body. His eyes trained fast on your face, for every slight quiver and break of you, witnessing your response to each single pinpoint of pleasure his fingers brush against.  

Responding obedient to pleas of “oh, there, right there, Rafayel.”  

This very first time, the sounds of you alone, moaning his name, could bring him to completion but he resists. Your pleasure, first and foremost, in his near-tunnel vision. 

When the calls of his name upon your lips become unbearable, with the curve of his index and middle up into your warm wetness, Rafayel caves, like sand carried back into the depths of the sea, underneath the unrelenting break of waves. Long fingers indenting into pliant thighs as he cleaves them up and apart for unobstructed access to your weeping slit and presses a parched tongue to lap up your essence.  

Curling his tongue up into your fluttering walls as his fingers dance against the tight bead of pleasure in between your legs, to the steady compresses of your thighs against the strength of his shoulders.

Rafayel adores and encourages your honesty in bed.

Ready to slow down when and if you tell him how overwhelmed you are. Takes you faster when you beg him to make you come with his mouth. All the while, that dark azure gaze is fixated upon you, the flush beneath them turned a deeper crimson with each sound of satisfaction he triumphantly plucks out of you. 

Lashes descending involuntarily, only when you crest at the peak of your pleasure and flood yourself onto his waiting tongue. The taste of a delectable sea; he laps up every single drop of until he is sated. 

And it is only when you implore Rafayel to put his cock inside you does he startle at the negligence of his body; hard and leaking, soiling the sheets beneath him.  

When you finally, finally connect, painfully slow; the push comes without resistance offered, from how wet he has had you from his ministrations, for a good part of the night.  

Rafayel has to struggle to breathe at the sensation of your warmth around him, tight, herculean control the likes of which he hasn’t ever had to scrabble for, ever in his life. To not just spill the moment he is inside you.  

Her pleasure, I want to feel it. I want to make her feel good.  

Still the sole thought behind that glazed, hot gaze. A moment of odd, emotional vulnerability when your eyes finally lock, your hands wandering now, to cup across his face.  

And when he begins to move, Rafayel needs to feel each and every single part of you with every single fibre of his own. Fingers resuming their trek of their now favorite canvas as you murmur love and praise into his ears. The weight of a breast hefty against one large palm, the other with his fingers intertwined through yours as he propels into you.  

Both of your releases, one and the same; as his eyes remain on the scrunch of your brow, just before he too falls, burying his face against the crescent of your neck. 

Rafayel’s style of love-making is firmly passionate.  

It is emotional, relieving and often times fun. He is incredibly adept at reading your cues and adjusting his pace according to your wants. Sex, in his mind, is an activity, as deserving of time and patience as his art — an intricate worship — and hence he usually requires the two of you have those several, long hours to spare before he gets to undressing you. Quickies, as such then, he isn’t a massive fan of.  

Neither public spaces — a private dressing room at one of his events, requiring the two of you to be out within a certain time period — no matter how desperate or wanting he might be. Silencing your own protests with a long, hushed kiss and a skewed mischievous, flushed smile that has your heart quivering inside your chest. “Be a good girl now and wait,” he remarks before setting your disheveled collar back in order. The graceful sweep of his hand; for you to take, once you are done, ready to escort you out into the venue.  

Open but private spaces, however, where you have time to spare and none to disturb, his private beach behind his home, is where you might find yourself spread wide across soft cloth. The cool waves of the shore lapping gentle at your tightly furled toes while Rafayel’s mouth works at the slick in between your legs. Truly his idea of a well-enjoyed romantic date. 

On the note of basking in the benevolence of seas, Rafayel loves giving oral as much as he enjoys receiving it.  

He isn’t incredibly vocal when it comes to giving voice to his desires, for having your mouth on him, often because he is more than happy [and engrossed] to have his mouth do all the talking (and lapping), while you luxuriate underneath the feel of his tongue and lips, like the [his] Queen you are. He loves servicing you to completion, no matter how much his tease of a foreplay may point to, otherwise.  

It is only when your mouth takes him in for the first time, on your request do you make the delightful discovery of Rafayel’s little give-aways. The quiver of his fingers threaded firm through your hair. The clench of a fine toned abdomen, ripples of tight pleasure splaying across his torso.  

“You’re doing so well, baby— hah, just like that. What have you done to me? You’re so good.” 

The drop of his jaw, the fine, dark dusting of red smeared across his cheeks and ears. His slow, stuttered groans and pants.  A deliberate suckle at his tip has him throwing his head back at the sensation, fingers spasming against the back of your skull. Your own resistance shattering and you take him in whole, the moan that chokes out of Rafayel’s throat in reward for your efforts is heaven enough, you keep returning for more.  

Rafayel is loud and has no shame in showcasing his love and desire for you through the sounds he makes, just for you.  

Part of the reason also why he prefers privacy to public displays of affection or quick sexual encounters. And he encourages just the same for you.  

Be it the sounds of appreciation that leave his mouth, muffled and undulating, into your pussy or while he is inside of you, enjoying every single inch of your drenched, clenching flesh against his length.  

“If you squeeze me that hard, I’m going to—” 

Words fracturing apart into a long, stuttered moan he presses right against your lips. Foreheads slick with the sweat of your desires as he bears down against you. Bright blue gaze meeting yours — the gentle florid fringe of pinks — steeped in pleasure as his fingers curve about your jaw, pleading a kiss from your lips. 

“My pretty girl.” A flushed devastating grin. “Let me come inside you. I want to feel the way your body clamps around me when I do. Gods, please.” 

Rafayel is an immensely flexible lover. No rules are set in stone, no bedroom innovations entirely over-ruled before the two of you knock it at least once.  

There is no sole lead; only the steps you weave in between you two, together. He is receptive to a wide variety of tastes and kinks; ever the most studious, eager participant, save for the rare personal boundary or two, he has set in place (see above: feelings regarding public sex). 

Grasping your hand to fold a kiss against your palm as he moves within you. Bidding on sex-hoarse whispers to entrust yourself to his care while he sets to plunging your entire being into flames, pleasure so exhilarating you’re left grappling for air by the end of it all. All the while, he shapes his marks of adoration against your skin, soothing warmth to set nerves lax from all their previous exertion.  

Or, when you ask it of him, supplicates himself — a willing, grinning participant — loving, puckish desire set to blaze within his dark eyes. Tracking each single move, the delicate fingers that sketch against his heaving abdomen, the hand that moves to enclose his cock in between eager digits and pump, slow: a delectable torture. And he responds in kind to your enthusiasm, if you leave his mouth unbound and able — sings for you as you so enjoy, in that rapturous voice you so adore. Lent a lascivious flavour from how his head rolls back across his neck in the throes of incoming release, the flush of him flooding down across his chest from how aroused he is for you to be doing what you are to him.  

The sight of him in his entirety is enough for your own patience to wear paper-thin, drenched wet from the erotic picture he paints beneath you.  

Rafayel’s house is a mess. 

...Something he often brushes off as personal ‘creative choices’, declaring he finds a certain order to his disarray of things strewn about.

The colors he knows exactly where to pluck off the floor of his studio. A second draft of an upcoming painting, pinned underneath a [fish] magnet against the kitchen cabinet. A spare shirt draped across the arm of a sofa for when he wants to quickly switch out of pigment-stained clothes in between paintings.  

However, he takes special care to keep his bedroom — or at the very least, on worse days, one sofa — in acceptable, spruced order. Especially so, after you start coming over to visit or stay the weekend, accompany him on days he holes himself up in his house, to pore over an artwork. Often so preoccupied, by the time he snaps out of it, several hours later: to a velvet sky outside and you scrunched up in an upright position, with your head coasting sideways at an uncomfortable angle, in your sleep.  

The first and last time that happens as he carts you into his arms and off to his bedroom to tuck you into his bed and insists you retire to his bedroom on your own, the next morning, whenever you feel like dozing off. Making a point, then onwards to always have it ready and at your disposal.  

For sleep and when you’re both not; tangled within each other and the sheets, cooling down from your highs.  

Rafayel craves chaste physical intimacy post-coitus as he drags you into his arms, your breath warm against his chest. He despises being away from your comfort for even a moment’s breath; extra adorable and tetchy in his phase of dramatics if you try and squirm away. 

Has startled you on one particular occasion; hunched, stark naked, by the door of the bathroom as you stepped out of it. A frown knit in between his brow, a disagreeable moue to that beautiful mouth and a simple, “I’m cold, warm me.”  

An amalgamation of just how Rafayel is like and something else; deeper, you suspect it stems from unspoken fears of loneliness. There are nights you don’t quite understand, when his emotions run rampant and his need for physical affirmation and constant connection are strong; the man immediately soothed to rest the moment your hand is across his cheek, fingers caressing down the sculpt of his jaw. Tiring him at last into exhausted sleep. A vulnerability to his visage only you are allowed  to stand witness to.  

There is something so incredibly erotic about his girl when she lets him put his cock against her mouth... 

Testing every single mental fortitude, he has ever had thrown up, walls of iron built over the course of centuries, crumbling at the feeling of your wet mouth against his length. Drawing him in before you swallow him, right to the base.  

Taking his seed down your throat like the damn, amazing girl you are but if you pull back at just the right moment, firm fist bringing him to spill against your cheeks, traversing down the arc of your neck— 

Rafayel’s thoughts frizzle into a numb void, mouth agape and panting. A scarlet flush dashed across the ridge of his cheekbones, his ears, to witness your face dirtied by smears of his cum. The sight truly untethers a carnal, primitive want in him, he isn’t able to fully parse himself.  

Truly imprinted upon as the bride of the Sea God. 

Your sexual sessions are more often than not, kicked off on sensual, fun notes and back-and-forths.  

A stray jibe you might throw his way at one of his odd habits and he’s plucking you right off your feet. Nimble digits feathering down the expanse of your abdomen in retaliation before you’re reduced to giggles; both of your fingers catching at the other’s clothes in an attempt for dominance before you drift, natural, against the other’s mouth in soft, scheming smiles. 

Or, when you reach to strike the firm muscle of his behind, the sweet, silly twist to his mouth right as he startles, an indignant, scandalized gaze he rolls your way. “Why, you—” Before you reach to grasp him by the collar and drag down towards your waiting, open mouth. Lips drawing wide into a smile as you feel his reciprocated urgent squeeze across your ass; the pads of his fingers tracing the lining of your panties beneath your skirt. “Don’t make me return the favor several fold, pretty siren.” 

The bite of restive teeth he sinks into his lower lip as he hauls you up and against his rigid length. Before you reach forward, disengaging his lip, to suckle it into your own mouth. “Try me.” 

The act itself leaning more into the romance of the moment and slow, deep thrusts into your body as Rafayel drifts against you. Mouthing every piece of spare skin in sight, affirmations and assurances as clear and heard as the moans that tumble from his lips.

Link to Master List

[dunglizard]

last night I had a nightmare that was grisly and harrowing save for one very important detail

I was in a vehicle with seven other people when the driver did a hit and run. Everyone else agreed to leave the scene as fast as possible and act like nothing had happened but I was horrified! When we eventually stopped I surreptitiously wrote down the car's make and model and the license plate number so I could report everything to the police. I had to do this mental balancing act of pretending to go along with covering up the crime, and at one point I remembered I hadn't taken my meds that morning so I was just that much closer to an emotional breakdown. Truly stressful and upsetting stuff.

now, here's the thing about all that

We weren’t in a car at first. We were in a BOAT. The person we hit was mangled by the propeller. The boat’s driver steered us back onto land. Then, the floor of this amphibious vehicle slid away, and the driver screamed, "EVERYONE!! DO THE FLINTSTONES THING!!!" And lo, we did the Flintstones thing complete with Hanna-Barbera sound effects and kicked our way down the road.

quoth my wife, who is the funniest person alive:

[practicefortheheart]

I'm suddenly reminded of a book I had as a kid (my memory is from the '90s but it might be older) and it was one of those weird scary books? Like it was off (art and story), but you can't really say why? I don't remember many details, but it was about this dude with an amphibious car and he travelled through a weird forest and went to a party I think? People might have changed shapes or something?

It makes a bit sad, because my dad would have known the title, but yeah, can't ask him anymore.

Anyway, if anyone has an idea what book this was, let me know, but more imporantly: what was your weirdly scary children's book?

[demoness-one]

Car videos on yt from people that dont live in the rust belt make me want to puke. Like what are you complaining about?? you just took those header bolts out of a 20 yr old car with a WRENCH. The fact you got them out in one piece period would be hailed as a miracle here, talked about for years. Saying "yeahh the body's pretty rough" when the clear coat is peeling and THATS IT? Coming through this mf screen at you i stg