#Imagination Library

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Thought you would be interested in this: i was listening to the radio the other day and the dj was doing a little filler b/w songs, saying something along the lines of “I didn’t know Dolly Parton could not like a person/get along with someone. Meghan Markle wanted Dolly on her show, but Dolly said no and felt that Meghan was just trying to use her.” Don’t know where they got that info from.

I’ve been following. Here’s how it started.

The first thing to know is Dolly is a big fan of the BRF, especially Her Late Majesty.

1. In August 2023, Dolly gives a BBC interview and mentions that Kate invited her to tea but Dolly couldn’t make time in her schedule so she had to decline the invite.

You might be asking why Kate/KP is interested in Dolly and while we don’t know, I suspect it has something to do with Dolly’s Imagination Library and the work she’s done with young kids, which lines up with Kate’s work in the early years. (And also it’s Dolly Parton - a reason is not needed!)

2. In 2024, Dolly is back in the UK to promote her new wine that is soon launching there and in an interview with Closer, mentions that after declining the KP tea invite, she invited the Waleses to Dollywood, her theme park in Tennessee. (I’ve been. It’s great. Excellent food.)

Remember that Closer is a Sussex mouthpiece.

3. A couple of weeks ago (May 2025), Huff Post asks Dolly - who has her own food line - if she would do a cooking show, she said no. Then Huff Post asked if Dolly would collaborate with Meghan on a cooking show and Dolly sidestepped the question by saying she was going to England later this year to meet Camilla for a Reading Room/ Imagination Library project.

4. A couple of days later, Kinsey Scofield is on Maureen Callahan’s podcast and reveals that a source told her Meghan had invited Dolly to be on WLM but Dolly declined. Kinsey’s source told her that Dolly’s team told them/the source that Dolly does not want to be linked to Meghan or Meghan’s brand at all. Maureen writes about it for the Daily Mail.

Archived Link - grabbed from SMM

And it’s been going through the music industry ever since because that now makes 3 titans of industry that have refused to work with Meghan - Taylor, Beyonce, and Dolly.

And Dolly is such a beloved figure in American culture (let alone the music industry) that her endorsement can be really important.

Personally I’m skeptical that Kinsey has a source on Dolly’s team that leaked, only because Dolly runs a very tight ship. I do feel like Kinsey’s source is someone on the Sussex side, but that is just me. I do fully believe 100% that Meghan invited Dolly because of how much Dolly talked about the Waleses and I do feel like she thought being able to claim Dolly Parton as her guest before Kate did would help her with the show and in her one-sided war against Kate.

One last thing - if you ever have the chance, go visit the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee. You don’t have to go to Dollywood (but it really is good family fun and Pigeon Forge TN is a bit touristy but with good purpose) but the Smoky Mountains are just beautiful and when the mist is there (from whence they get their name), it’s absolutely stunning.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Sebastian Murdock at HuffPost:

A new budget proposal by Republican lawmakers in Indiana would see funding cut to Dolly Parton’s Imagination Library, which puts books into the hands of thousands of kids across the state — but the country star is trying to get them to reconsider. “We are hopeful that Governor [Mike] Braun and the Indiana Legislature will continue this vital investment by restoring the state’s funding match for local Imagination Library programs,“ Parton’s rep said in a statement to the Daily Beast on Tuesday. ”The beauty of the Imagination Library is that it unites us all — regardless of politics — because every child deserves the chance to dream big and succeed.” The program, which was started by the country music superstar and philanthropist in 1995, puts free books into the hands of millions of kids across the country each month. In Indiana alone, more than 15,000 kids under the age of 5 receive free books from the program, the South Bend Tribune reported. But a new biennial budget proposal authored by state Rep. Jeffrey Thompson (R) and co-authored by Republican Reps. Greg Porter, Jack Jordan and Craig Snow, would see funding for the literacy program gutted.

Last year, the state spent $2.5 million on the program, and the Indiana State Library requested $4 million to expand the program this year. Instead, Braun’s recommendation is to stop funding the program entirely. The state’s usual match of 50% funding was slashed to zero in the new budget proposal. (The charity group United Way helps finance the other 50%, according to the Tribune.)

Singer Dolly Parton urges Gov. Mike Braun (R) and Republicans in Indiana to not eliminate her Imagination Library program for kids.

See Also:

Daily Kos: This state wants to stop Dolly Parton from giving kids free books

[rachel-sylvan-author]

"Behind the Seams: My Life in Rhinestones" by Dolly Parton

Thank you @books_baking_barks for this absolute joy of a read! ❤️

[des-legacy]

My (nearly) 2-year-old baby brother calls Dolly Parton "book mommy" and says "otro mommy book" (in bilingual baby) when he wants to read another book

[nationwidechildrenshospital]

"Imagination Library provides book access and nurtures early literacy while increasing the parent-child bond through reading. By providing books to families, we hope to build a love for learning that supports children’s cognitive, social, and emotional development."

Allison Riggle, Project Manager, Infant Wellness Initiatives

[inspiredangel]

‎ SLEEPY KISSES

summary: rafe is extra clingy when he’s half asleep, and he loves to shower you with kisses before going to bed.

he was always so clingy when he was sleepy. his half asleep state was the most adorable thing you´ve ever seen.

he climbed into bed with you, with a soft grunt. his cheek squishing against the pillow, as he stared at you with those sleepy beautiful blue eyes, admiring you silently. "You going to sleep?" you asked, looking down at him, your fingers reaching over and giving his head a soft little massage.

a small hum left his lips as he felt your fingers "yeah." he mumbled, his voice a silent whisper, you let out a small giggle "Goodnight, baby." you said in a loving voice. he frowned "i gotta give you goodnight kisses though." he stated as he propped himself up on his elbows

"you can barely keep your eyes open," you teased, his pout deepened.

He shook his head "don´t matter, baby." he mumbled, his face was just inches from yours.

Before you could respond, his lips found yours in the softest, sweetest kiss. It was slow and lazy, just like him in that moment, warm and full of affection. He pulled back only slightly, his blue eyes fluttering half-open again as he whispered, “Goodnight kiss number one.” he smiled lazily

His lips moving across your cheek, pressing soft kisses all around your face.

he kissed you again, this time a little longer, with his fingers lazily grazing your arm. “goodnight kiss number two.” you chuckled "how many more?" you smiled, as his lips moved over to press more kisses all over your face

"one more." his voice quiet and lazy. He kissed you again, this time more passionate, and longer than the others. "goodnight kiss number three." he smiled against your lips, as he pulled away, and shut his eyes.

he’d already collapsed halfway onto you, his head resting against your chest, his breathing slowing.

His stubbornness gave way to sleep, and you couldn’t help but smile as you ran your fingers through his buzzed hair, whispering, “goodnight, rafe.”

‎‎ ‎‎ 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 , 𝐛𝐞𝐚

𝐚/𝐧 — my shayla :(( i apolgoize for any misspells or bad grammar, english is not my first language.

@marrykisskilled @chrislilcumslvt @sosasturns @cyberskulzzz @slut4chris888 @waitforyrlove @sturnioloangell @slctsblogana @anyaa2s @emely9274 @shadowthesim @frankoceanfanpage @mrsarnold @freshloveee @t0riiiis @jetaimevous @sturn777 @sturniologirlzz @venusbabysblog @ch6rm @sturniolossss @mattsbrowser @sturnlsstuff @chrissweetheart @lizzyzzn @sophand4n4

[wings1295]

I don't understand people who make it their purpose to hurt people in ways like this. Dark times.

There has never been a time when the people banning books are the good guys

[parrish-the-thot]

A continuation of this post I made

I imagine Steve genuinely doesn’t think about Eddie, like at all. Besides the occasional “what is he yelling about in that table” or “ Munson actually showed up to class” or once in sophomore year he thinks “how much does Munson charge for an ounce of weed? Would he take a $50 for an ounce” which causes Eddie to wait around all day at the picnic table wishing for some shmuck to offer $50 for just an ounce, but no one shows up (Steve had to go pick up Dustin after school and didn’t want him to find weed the weed when he inevitably starts going through Steve’s car)

The lack of soulmate thoughts really irks Eddie, because he knows his soulmate is in Hawkins, but he never thinks about Eddie, like at all??? Positively or negatively?? Eddie jumps on more tables, he blares loud music from his van, he is in a band, he is the drug dealer for all the teens in Hawkins and all his soulmate thinks is “why the fuck did Munson double park his van, I’m going to be late looking for a parking spot now” it absolutely drives him crazy.

He eventually figures out his soulmate must be a jock of some kind because one day he hears “what is Munson doing under the bleachers?” when some sports team is let out of playing with balls practice. He is briefly heartbroken his soulmate isn’t a nerd like him, but then spends the night thinking about how a certain fluffy haired jock could play with his balls anytime.

Steve isn’t not thinking about Eddie on purpose, but they just don’t run in the same circles, so he doesn’t really think about him too much, just in a genuine, “I don’t know them, don’t interact with them, so I don’t really think about them” sort of way. Especially after befriending the kids, Steve’s focus goes to keeping them safe and being a babysitter instead of finding his soulmate.

Steve’s experience with his soulmates thoughts is completely different. Starting in middle school he heard his soulmate think he was cute which he thought was nice. As he got older his soulmate would still think he was cute, but also handsome or pretty which, he doesn’t know any girls who call their boyfriends pretty but ya know, he can roll with that. He thinks he will have to roll with a lot of stuff, since hai soulmate seems to into a…a lot of interesting things, to say the least. Steve has dated a lot of girls but none of them seemed to want to rub their face in his chest hair like his soulmate did, who also wonder is Steve was that hairy everywhere which- he was but he didn’t think a girl would want to know about that.

He would be in the middle of a basket ball game and he hit with a 15 minute monologue about how wonderful his ass looked in “thise little green shirts that ride up his ass in the best way” and how his soulmate “wanted to be those shorts” causing Steve to miss three different shots. Also with all this wildly kinky stuff and even general sex things Steve has never heard of or thought about he figures he should become more knowledgeable to better be prepared for his soulmate.

One day when Steve is cleaning up a drink he spilled in the cafeteria and heard “god Harrington looks good on his knees, bet he would look even better with my cock in his mouth” figures chances are his soulmate isn’t a girl at all.

With not much else to loose and a new door opened up to him, Steve starts spending time thinking equally horny thinvs about different guys he sees in class, just to see if they will react to what he is thinking. This is how he figures out Eddie is his soulmate.

Steve notices eddies table is getting a little rowdy, as is always does before Eddie gets up on someone’s table and he rants about jocks and preppy girls while stepping on people’s lunches, Steve thinks “what if comes over here, spits in my stretched out hole, and fucks me right next to Heathers Halloways tuna sandwich”

Eddie, whose soulmate didn’t even think about Eddie that one time his car got spray painted a fit was all the school talked about for a week, was NOT expecting that at 12:30 on a Tuesday and promptly trips on a chair and slams face first into the lunch table, breaking his nose.

Eddies friends rush him to the nurse and Steve is torn between this being a sign Eddie is soulmate or Eddie just clumsy, Steve has seen him walk into a door twice, so he don’t 100% sure. Steve decided to test this anytime he has a clear viewpoint of Eddie and starts thinking the most horny, kinky things possibly about Eddie to see if Eddie reacts proves he is Steve’s soulmate (also revenge because Steve had to go through years of Eddie horny pondering interrupting Steve during important tasks games or tests so Steve figures he should pay that forward during eddies dungeons and dorks games)

[hejee]

sister…that’s a bit 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂

[wonist]

BF! TEXTS ; JAKE 심재윤

pairing : crush to bf!jake x fem!reader

synopsis : texts between u and crush to bf jake except hes down bad for u (jake accidentally confesses)

© all rights reserved wonist 2025 

[atereaste]

Sevika as a housewife

CW: Smut

AN: do you know how hard it is thinking of headcannons for this woman? I tried my ABSOLUTE hardest to make it as cannon to her character as possible and I made sure to make it lengthy as possible. Also this was based off this one fanart I found on here that I sadly can’t find.

She’s usually up at 6AM. Not because she wants to but because that is when Anaya wakes. No alarm needed. She’s already halfway out of bed before the fussing starts.

Makes real breakfast like eggs, toast, potatoes, and a ridiculous amount of bacon. Claims it’s “for the baby,” but we all know who eats six strips before you even get up.

Has your coffee ready like clockwork. Never smiles when she gives it to you. Just grunts, “Mornin’. Go kick ass.”

She's not the apron-wearing, Pinterest mom type. She Never wears the classic housewife look. It’s all muscle tanks, joggers, band tees, and sometimes that old leather jacket she refuses to throw out. Cigarette behind the ear, not lit (she tries to quit for her daughter, but old habits never die).

Has her hair tied back, scars on display, robotic arm gleaming under the kitchen lights.

She doesn’t call herself a “housewife” but acts like one every day. If someone else calls her that, like a friend or a family member She grunts, lights a cigarette, and mutters, “Yeah. So?”

She acts like she’s annoyed when you tease her about being a housewife, but she secretly loves it.

Sevika never saw herself settling down, but once she did, it hit her like a punch to the chest, this quiet, domestic life? She’d kill to protect it.

Handles all the heavy lifting around the house literally and emotionally. Leaky roof? She’s on it. Baby teething and screaming all night? She’s the one pacing the hallway with her tucked to her chest, whispering calm nonsense. but she still makes your coffee just the way you like it every morning.

Keeps the house spotless but not fussy. Everything is practical, efficient, and deeply hers. You tried to buy decorative pillows once she threw them like a discus into the hallway.

Baby-proofed the entire house herself. Installed corner guards, outlet covers, and baby gates that require two hands and a prayer to open.

Her name is Anaya, a soft name that Sevika picked out, surprising you both. (You can change it if you want)

Anaya got your eyes and Sevika’s scowl. Chubby cheeks, big curious eyes, always grabbing her mama’s metal fingers.

Her daughter is the only creature on the planet who makes Sevika melt. Big, soft cheeks, giggly snorts, and chubby hands reaching for her scarred face? Yeah. She’s a goner.

Sevika is not soft by nature, but you and the baby bring out a version of her that’s damn near unrecognizable to anyone who knew her back in Zaun. She's a "tough on the outside, but a absolute marshmallow for her girls" kind of wife.

I hope this is a safe space but Sevika 100% listens to jazz like deep, brooding stuff. She prefers instrumental tracks, trumpet, sax, stand-up bass. Miles Davis, Charles Mingus, John Coltrane, Chet Baker when she’s feeling tender.

Late at night, she plays old vinyl on a secondhand turntable she restored herself. The low hiss of the record starting is practically sacred.

She doesn’t explain her choices, but you’ve caught her pausing at certain solos like they say something she doesn’t know how to put into words.

It’s always on low volume in the background while she cooks or tidies the house.

Anaya’s lullaby is jazz. Sevika rocks her while humming along, sometimes adding her own quiet rhythm with her metal fingertips on the baby’s back.

In the early mornings, you’ll find her at the kitchen table with coffee, newspaper, and a Coltrane record playing gently. Hair still messy from sleep, house quiet except for saxophone and birdsong.

She has a hidden stash of photos of the baby on her communicator like hundreds. Pretends she doesn’t take them. You know better.

Wears a necklace you gave her with the baby’s initials on it under her shirt. Only touches it when she’s stressed or tired.

She slow dances with you in the kitchen while dinner simmers. No words, just the rise and fall of horns, her hands on your hips, chin resting on your shoulder.

If you’ve had a rough day, she’ll put on Ella Fitzgerald or Billie Holiday, pull you into her lap, and let the music speak for her.

Once, you walked in and found her in the nursery rocking Anaya to “Naima” eyes closed, swaying in rhythm, completely at peace.

Surprisingly good at cooking. She doesn’t do fancy, but her food hits like, home. Lots of stews, grilled meats, and roasted vegetables. She seasons like a pro and uses that cybernetic arm to mash plantains like a boss

Savory over sweet. Her palate leans toward rich, bold flavors spices, sears, and anything cooked low and slow.

Heavy-handed. No measuring cups. It’s all instinct. She cooks with the confidence of a woman who knows she’s feeding people she loves.

“Trust me. If I’ve made it more than twice, it won’t kill you.”

Anaya strapped to her chest in a carrier while she stirs a pot.

She doesn’t always say she loves you. But she seasons your rice exactly how you like it. She cooks with one arm so she can hold the baby with the other. She leaves leftovers in the fridge labeled with your name.

Does all the errands while wearing the baby strapped to her chest like a living shield.

The grocery store staff are terrified of her. No one questions the tattooed woman grabbing eight jars of applesauce and staring down anyone who lingers too long in her aisle.

If anyone tries to say anything about her being a housewife, she dares them to say it again. Proud protector of her home, her woman, and her daughter.

NSFW

Sevika’s housewife vibe completely flips in the bedroom. All that restrained energy, all those controlled gestures unleashed.

She’s slow, intense, and hyper-focused. She watches your reactions like a hawk, cataloguing what breaks you.

Very much a giver. Obsessive about your pleasure. She doesn’t finish unless you do first , sometimes more than once.

Kitchen sex happened once after you teased her while she was cooking she bent you over the kitchen island with one hand still holding a spoon.

She didn’t even take her apron off. Just dragged your panties down, muttered “Should’ve behaved,” and wrecked you until your legs gave out. Afterwards, feeds you bites of whatever she was making, while you sit on the counter in just a shirt and nothing else.

She adores your body after having Anaya. Scar, stretch marks, softness she’s obsessed. She kisses your stomach like it’s holy ground. “You made her in here,” she murmurs against you Sevika’s housewife vibe completely flips in the bedroom. All that restrained energy, all those controlled gestures unleashed.

Some nights she gets overwhelmed by it goes down on you like it’s worship, mumbling thank yous between your thighs.

She doesn't need formal dom/sub labels, but there's power in how she touches you. In how you let her.

Sometimes she calls herself “Daddy” in a low growl especially when she’s fucking you from behind with your legs shaking and her hand around your throat.

But more often, she calls you “mama.” In reverence. In filth. Whispered against your skin as she takes you apart: “Let me make mama feel good. Let me take care of you.”

Quickies while Anaya naps. Always risky. Always worth it.

The dryer buzzer goes off? She ignores it. You’re already bent over the washing machine, her hand over your mouth to keep you quiet.

When you come out flushed and trembling, Sevika smirks and goes, “Laundry’s done, babe.”

You say one thing about being tired or tense and she’s immediately kissing your neck, dragging you to bed, muttering “Let me help you unwind.”

That always leads to you face-down in pillows, ass up, her mouth on you like she’s starving, refusing to stop until your legs are shaking.

She loves holding you by the throat not rough, but firm. Controlling.

She’ll squeeze just enough to make you whimper, then lean down and whisper, “That’s my girl. So fucking good for me.” You melt. Every time.

Her other hand always finds your clit when she does it. She knows exactly what you need and exactly how slowly to give it to you.

Sevika lives to use the strap on you. She takes her time choosing it, watching you undress, making you ask for it. She prefers when you’re tied down for it spread open, blindfolded, dripping for her.

When she slides in, she mutters, “Miss this, didn’t you?” and absolutely rails you through the mattress until you’re begging her to stop and she’s smirking like the devil.

She always says “We’ll be quiet.” You never are. Baby monitor’s on. House is still. She promises to go slow, gentle, quiet. Five minutes later, you’re sobbing into the sheets while she pounds into you, teeth in your shoulder, sweat dripping down her neck.

“Told you we couldn’t be quiet,” she teases afterward, licking her fingers clean.

You’ve never experienced focus like Sevika’s mouth between your legs. She doesn’t just eat you out she commits.

Buries her face, groans into you, holds you down when you try to run.

You’ll come once and she’ll keep going. Twice? She’s just warming up. She gets off on how wrecked you get under her tongue.

She jerks off to the memory of it later. Usually in the shower. Often thinking about the exact sound you made the third time you broke.

Sevika loves fucking you in front of the mirror. It's not just visual it's about power. She wants you to watch yourself fall apart for her.

She stands behind you, hand around your throat or arm across your waist, whispering filth in your ear:

“Look at that face. You see how pretty you are when you beg?”

She makes you keep eye contact with your reflection. Every orgasm, every whimper—“Eyes up. Be a good girl.”

Sometimes she fingers you from behind while you sit in front of the vanity post-bath. Just a towel, her mouth on your neck, and your reflection wet and wrecked.

Sevika gets off on almost getting caught. Like when Anaya napping, and she bends you over the kitchen table with the baby monitor in full view.

“Keep your voice down,” she warns right before she slaps your ass and shoves two fingers in.

She loves fucking you in places you shouldn’t be: laundry room, balcony, the hallway, even the nursery rocker (when she’s feeling especially risky).

One time, she forgot the curtains were open. Now the neighbors won’t look you in the eye and Sevika? She smirks every time.

You already have Anaya but Sevika still talks about putting another baby in you like it’s her life’s mission.

She’ll say it in your ear while she’s fucking you, voice low and wrecked:

“Gonna fill you up again. Look so fuckin’ pretty knocked up.”

Even when she’s not using her strap, she fingers you through an orgasm while kissing your stomach, murmuring,

“Wanna see you round with my kid again. You’d carry it so well.”

The idea isn’t just sex it’s ownership, devotion, obsession. She wants every inch of you marked by her.

Early morning. Anaya’s still asleep. Sunlight through the curtains. You’re in her old t-shirt and nothing else. Sevika wakes up hard, sees the little wet patch on your shirt, and groans,

“Still leakin’ for me, mama?”

She wraps an arm around you, pulls your tit into her mouth, and suckles while fingering you slowly from behind.

You’re half-asleep and already moaning, legs trembling as she rubs slow circles over your clit and murmurs, “You’re so soft like this. So mine.”

She makes you come twice before breakfast. Her face never leaves your chest.

I’m gonna make a part two of this but of just basic Sevika headcannons cause I have so many written just let me know if you wanna be tagged in that Ⓒ atereaste

[mang0d0ll]

Bob's Lonely Hearts Club

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: bob's all alone on valentines day. but not for much longer.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: 1.6k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ includes: fluff, fem main character, negative self-talk, morale boosting, fem mc becomes bobs hype man, implied sex, mentions of alcohol and drinking, bob gets kinda tipsy, hangman is kind of a douchebag but whats new

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ a/n: this is my first full fic on tumblr!! YYYAAAAAYYYY im so excited that its here! this idea has been collecting dust in my brain and my notes app literally since tgm came out in 2022, but im just so proud of myself for actually writing this and putting it out in the world. enjoy <333333

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE REPOSTED OR FED INTO AI

Bob wouldn't really classify himself as a loner.

Sure he was quiet, preferring to take a back seat to the rambunctious chatter and lighthearted bickering the rest of his teammates were always up to, but they always included him in the conversation. Hangman particularly enjoyed ribbing him with jokes about his mouse-like demeanour, until Bob would throw some smack talk of his own, making the group erupt with laughter.

But tonight was different. It was Valentine's, and Bob was - by all accounts - a loner.

There were other patrons scattered across the Hard Deck, but nowhere near the regular amount on a typical Friday night.

He hadn't even realised the romantic holiday was coming up. It wasn't until a week prior when Fanboy hollered that he'd scored a date with someone he'd been chatting up on Bumble; his booming voice causing Bob’s pool cue to completely miss the ball.

From then on, it was all he heard from the Daggers. Payback had a dinner planned with his long-term partner, Rooster was going out with a woman he'd been casually seeing, and Coyote nonchalantly declared that he'd have no problem heading into town and picking up a cute chick on the day itself.

Hangman had let it slip that he and Phoenix were going to a drive-in cinema together, but any cheeky remarks from the rest of the team were left unsaid at the heat of Phoenix’s glare.

So there Bob was, sitting at the bar on Valentine's, nursing a drink and musing over everything he could've been doing instead. With the complexities and demands of his job, he'd rarely given much thought to his romantic life. Boy, was he regretting it.

His eyes bore into the random sports match playing on the bar’s TV, his brain only registering the vibrant colours and fast-paced movements.

"Hey, Bob."

A melodious voice broke him out of his daze. Behind the counter stood everyone's favourite, sweet-as-sugar Hard Deck employee. She gave him a small smile as she wiped down glasses and put them aside.

"Fancy seeing you here tonight. Thought you'd have somewhere more important to be."

His head tilted, like a curious puppy, making her giggle.

"Y'know, cause it's Valentine's?"

"Right!" Bob exclaimed. "Yeah, no, no plans. I don't have anywhere else to be, so..." His voice trailed off as her warm smile struck his soul. With sweaty palms, he raised his glass and took a swig of his drink.

"That's a surprise," she said.

"It is?"

She shrugged her shoulders, "I thought you'd have a cute date or something."

Bob's eyes widened and he quickly choked out a laugh, "Me? Oh, no, no I'm flattered but I'm not..." A wave of nausea rushed through his body - the words sticking to his throat. "I'm not really the ask-out-women type," he said as he stared into his glass. "Never been good at it."

And maybe it was the alcohol making him feel all fuzzy. Maybe it was the bar's dim lighting setting the mood. Or maybe it was the feeling of being almost alone with the attention of the stunning bartender-slash-waitress he maybe, sort of, definitely, had a crush on.

Something in the situation just made him feel... different. Trusting. Honest.

"I'm not confident like the rest of them," he confessed. "Hangman, Rooster, Coyote, they see someone they like and have no problem approaching them. Even if they didn't, there are plenty of people who come up and offer their numbers all the time. But I can't do that. Can't bring myself to talk to anybody like that. I'm not suave or charming like they are. Not cool or confident. I don't stand out in a crowd or attract any eyes from across the room. I'm just the guy in the background no one gives two cents about. Boring ol' Bob."

A silence hung between them, the static sports commentator voice floating through the air.

A tsunami of emotions whirled through him. On one hand, a weight had been lifted off him- a cathartic thrum in his chest at finally voicing the thoughts that'd tormented him for years. On the other hand, the admission of his feelings only made them more real and ever apparent to him. A dark cloud over his head, doomed to follow him.

"Excuse me?" she spat.

His head snapped up to find her eyes ablaze.

"Do you really think that?"

His mouth opened and closed like a fish but no words came out. Thankfully for him, she didn't give him time to reply.

"Bob, you’re an amazing person. You're kind, and sweet, and thoughtful. You're always there for others, helping them even when they don’t ask for it. You carry your friends out when they're too drunk to walk. You listen to them rant about their work and lives. And when you're here during closing you insist on helping us clean up; stacking the chairs and storing crates in the back. You’re this guardian angel looking out for everyone around you.

So what if you're not like Rooster or Hangman? Why would you wanna be anyone else anyways? You're an amazing person all on your own and you show it everyday."

Bob felt an overwhelming heat engulf his body. It was as though he'd stood at the entrance of an active volcano for a decade.

“You really think that?” he squeaked out.

“Yes! And if girls don't see that then screw them. Anyone with a functioning brain cell would be lucky to go out with you.”

Bob smiled shyly, "Well, I'm flattered-"

"I mean, you're literally a dream!" She continued, hands frantically wiping glasses and setting them down with a low thud. "Not only are you kindhearted but you're a dream to look at. It's honestly criminal how fit you are with your glasses making you look so cute, and kissable, and..."

Her voice trailed off as their eyes locked and she registered Bob's tomato-red face. Bob's heart pounded in his ears.

"Sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

Bob wouldn't really classify himself as brave.

Sure he'd had a rare, unexpected surge of bravery when he joined the military - shocking everyone that knew him - but everything that came after was simply part of the job. Each day of suffering through grueling training to become a WSO had nothing to do with his bravery, but rather his tenacity and determination to show everyone what he could accomplish. What he was made of.

Buf in this moment, a rare moment in his life, Bob chose to be brave.

"What time do you get off from work?" he asked.

"Soon. In about an hour."

"And... do you have any plans after?"

"I was just gonna go home," she blushed, a smile painting across her face. "But you're most welcome to come with me."

"So Bob, how was your Valentine's?"

The Dagger Squad's chatter quieted down at Hangman's sudden question. The sounds of the Hard Deck filling the silence between them.

"It was good," Bob replied, leaning against a pillar and doing his best to act casual.

"Really? Get up to anything fun?"

"Stop it," Phoenix chided.

"What? I'm just asking," Hangman laughed, gliding about the pool table and lining up his shot as if he wasn't interrogating his teammate. "Wanna know if Baby-on-Board spent the night alone like I said he would."

The crack of his cue against the ball came as a comical sound effect to the shock everyone was smacked in the face with. Phoenix shook her head in disbelief and mouthed a 'sorry' to her WSO, which he waved off with an understanding smile.

"Well Hangman, since you're so desperate to know, I came here on Valentine's. And while I did start out alone, I ended up going home with someone."

Everyone's heads whipped towards him.

"No shit. Seriously?" Hangman chuckled. "Who is she? Who had the honour of being our Bobby's companion. Is she even real?"

It was at this time that she walked over to them, empty tray in hand. The woman who'd occupied Bob's head 24/7 ever since the night they shared together a week prior. The woman he'd confided in and poured his heart out to. The woman who held him and kissed his doubts away all night long. Her lips soft against his smooth skin, the heat of her body melded against his.

She moved with grace as she motioned for the team's empty glasses and bottles, everyone giving her polite smiles as she passed. Bob allowed his eyes to trail after her before turning his attention back to Hangman.

"I can assure you she is very real. She's an amazing woman, full of kindness and love. Adorable to boot. Honestly, I'm over the freaking moon that she even wants my company."

Their eyes met as she got closer to Bob, still pretending to be completely unaffected by the conversation at hand. Picking up the last empty bottle, she began to walk pass Bob to get back to the kitchen.

"And I'm most definitely taking her home with me tonight," Bob declared. Just as she passed, Bob raised his hand and let it fall with a swift smack! to her behind.

Jumping back in shock with a loud yelp, she turned to Bob, ready to tell him off, only to be met with his cheeky smirk and smitten eyes.

She huffed and glared at him, though there was no real heat behind her eyes. "We're leaving as soon as my shift is over."

"Yes ma'am," Bob smiled.

She scurried away as she failed to suppress the smile growing on her face.

He stared at her retreating figure unashamedly as the rest of the Daggers began whooping and hollering.

"Dude! No way!"

"How'd you pull her? What did you say?"

"My man! Knew you had that dog in ya!"

Their words fell on Bob's deaf ears, his head preoccupied with counting down to when he could finally leave with the woman of his dreams.

[soangelbaby]

💌 taking it all ; clark kent

𐑺ִ pairings ; clark kent x inexperienced!reader .

you’ve never felt anything like this before. every inch of clark’s dick presses into you, stretching you thin. a deep ache wells up insides you, twisting sharp in your belly. your breath is shaky and your body trembled, overwhelmed by the sheer pressure filling you. it’s too much—too full, and too intense, but clark? oh, he’s savoring every second of it.

“easy baby,” he coos, his lips brushing against your ear, a deep, molten drawl as he lies on top of you. “you can take it, just breathe for me okay?” his hand slides up your back, fingers dipping into the curve of your spine as he adjusts you against him.

the way his hands grip you, firm and unyielding, make it clear he’s in control. guiding you exactly where he wants you as he slowly slides into you, and you can feel the stretch. the slow, deliberate push of him settling deeper in your gut and it makes your walls clench. your arms shoot up to grip his shoulders and a soft whimper escapes your lips. you tip your head back and he chuckles low, the sound rumbling against your skin.

“that’s it, honey” he says, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “i can feel how tight you are. never had someone make you feel this full, huh?”

by now, clark’s deep inside you. his tip barely brushing your cervix, the sensation overwhelming. the sounds of him squeezing your juices out of you, coating him completely in your slick. he pulls back; giving you space to adjust, he watches as he drags himself in and out of you.

you shake your head, a soft whine escaping your lips.

“no... never..” you moan, unable to keep your voice steady. your stomach turns again, an intense mix of pain and pleasure overtaking your body and mind.

“feel me, baby,” he draws out, the words slow and heavy with intent. “you weren’t ready for this, were you? for how good i’d make you feel?” he leans down pressing a soft, sloppy kiss to the inside of your neck.

you shudder at the intensity of his words, your body rocking slightly beneath him. "i-don’t know if i can...” you mumble, breathless and caught between discomfort and the desperate need for more.

his large hand brushes down against your stomach, pressing lightly and the added sensation sends heat spiraling through you.

“shh,” he coos, his voice softening for a moment, his thumb tracing a calming line over your skin. “you’re doing fine. just relax, sweetheart. i’m gonna make you feel so good okay?”

a/n ; this has been chilling in my drafts for so long, i need to get rid of it. so enjoy or don’t ;)

[digitald0rk]

I WANT SOMEONE BADLY

pairing — mark grayson x gn! hero reader. [ implied childhood friends ]

synopsis — after a hard [ immature laughing ] night of fighting crime, you take mark back to yours to spend some extra time with him, one of your closest friends. he is a yearner, through and through. [ end his misery pls 🙏🏻 ]

warnings — mentions of healing from nail biting / picking, mark and you paint each other's nails, he helps with your skincare, crazy pining, like two suggestive paras nothing too freaky though!

w.c — 2.2 k.

a/n — YES IT'S A JEFF BUCKLEY REFERENCE THE TITLE I MEAN :D I WANNA WRITE SMMM BUT i have two exams back to back and then my boards after them in like two weeks 💔💔 im cooked. ALSO HAPPY EID MUBARAK TO ALL THOSE WHO CELEBRATE ^_^ we getting rich this year gang 🤑🤑🤑 ALSO TYSM FOR 400 FOLLOWERS! luv you all mwah <3

taglist — @vm4879bb-blog @hihowyoudoin00 @fairii-majii @hepdeerness [ lemme know if you wanna be added! ]

“m- invincible,” your little slip up makes him chuckle, “pretty sure no one's gonna hear you on top of the highest rooftop in the city, but okay.” he teases you so he doesn't end up staring at you like you're the only person in the world.

“you can never be too sure,” you huff, playfully shoving him a bit followed by a fond eye roll when he pretends like you've punched his guts out or something, dramatically groaning and all. 

“i was just wondering if you wanna come over? i barely have time to spend with you when i’m not being a superhero,” you start, slightly hesitant.

“ooh sleepover?”

“i mean if you want, sure.” you smile, happy to be spending time with him outside of beating people up.

stop smiling at him, please. he's already a lovesick fool, don't do this to him.

“yeah, i’m down!” he says, mentally scolding himself for sounding a little too excited, getting up he stretches a little, “let's go.”

you two fly together to your house, laughing at some stupid thing you saw, a meme or some other ridiculous thing — he wants to record your laugh and play it again and again, although his mind at night does just that so maybe there's no use of it.

he's laughing with you but his heart is beating like a drum, thank god your powers don't include super hearing or he's sure the super loud thump thump of his heart — which belongs to you and only you be concerning, 

he catches a whiff of your perfume, the one you always wear — wait your hair smells different, is that a new conditioner? or shampoo? it smells nice, awfully nice. he takes a deep breath. get it together mark.

he has to maintain a little distance before he ends up doing something stupid like burying his face in your hair and kissing your head.

soon enough he finds you two on the balcony of your house, you slide open the window to your room, leaving it open for him to follow you in.

his palms feel sweaty, he's been here countless times. you two have even slept on the same bed twice. yes, you both were like ten but still!

he takes another deep breath, he steps into your room, you're nowhere to be seen. he hesitantly sits on your bed and of course it smells like you. this isn't good, his heart is going to give out.

he's toying around with your little black cat plushie when he hears the bathroom door unlock, eyes darting to your figure coming out, you've changed into your favorite comfortable pajamas.

he's going to die.

the soft material stretches over the curves and dips of your body in a way that has him gripping the plushie a little too hard.

“you're gonna suffocate him,” you joke, your voice snaps him out of it and he relaxes his grip on the soft back plushie.

flopping down onto the bed with a tired groan you prop yourself up on your elbow to face him.

the atmosphere is unusually tense, or well at least to mark. the soft flutter of your eyelashes and the way your shirt sightly rides up, revealing a slither of your soft skin has him acting like a victorian man seeing an ankle for the first time.

“heard you actually got a good grade for once in chemistry.”

he huffs, nodding with a smile, “believe me, i’m just as surprised as you are.”

the tension breaks and you two fall into easy conversation, like always. he can't keep the smile off of his face when you pull out some seance dog issue to read together and it ends up in him explaining some villain’s origin story to you.

“yeah, so honestly it's not his fault-”

“i think his biggest crime is his new outfit” he laughs at your comment.

your body would occasionally brush against his. sometimes your knees bumping or elbow nudging him when you tease him about something, he wishes he could hold you and shower you with all the affection, give you everything he has.

“i’ve been trying to grow out my nails,” you put your palm flat against the sheets, showing him your progress so far, he knows you've been trying to break the habit of picking and biting your nails. he takes your hand in his without thinking, his thumb tracing over your long nails, “looks good,” a proud smile stretching across his lips.

“thanks, I've been meaning to paint them-”

“can i paint them?” mark blurts out, he honestly just wants to hold your hand for as long as you'll let him.

you jokingly make a show of pretending to think before nodding, “sure.”

you get out of bed, opening your closet to take out a small box of all the nail polishes and other supplies you own, he excitedly looks through the box, pulling out a pretty blue shade, giddy at the thought of his suit’s main color matching with your nails.

he helps you settle your hand on a small towel so your bed sheet doesn't get stained, he uncaps the small bottle, getting to work, he'd grumble a little when he messes up, his teeth slightly dig into his bottom lip as he focuses on painting your nails and every time his hand would make contact with yours — even the slightest bit of contact leaves him longing for more.

he listens to you speak about something that happened at school last wednesday, his heart rate would pick up everytime you'd say his name in that pretty voice of yours.

he looks so proud himself when he finishes painting all the nails on your right hand, gently blowing on them so they'd dry faster, you playfully join him, blowing on your now blue nails, your breaths mingle and oh boy he's holding himself back from kissing your knuckles and telling you how beautiful you are.

you examine his painting skills, watching him put nail polish on your left hand’s nails.

he works in comfortable silence, using the crumpled up ball of tissue to wipe off any excess blue liquid that is around your nails.

“you're actually good at this, makes me wonder if you've ever painted someone else's nails before,” you mutter, his eyes dart up to hold your gaze for a moment, he'd hold it for longer but he knows it'll unravel him, it'd just end up with him pouring out his feelings — baring his heart to you.

“nope, it's actually my first time,” he admits, putting the cap back on and once again blowing at your nails, he sneaks in a small brush of his thumb against your knuckles as he helps your hand up — which is just an excuse to touch you, he folds the small towel and puts it back in your small box of nail supplies.

“do you like them?” he asks.

“yeah, looks really pretty. thanks mark,” you flash him a happy smile and he's over the moon.

“yeah, real pretty,” he whispers, except he's not only talking about your nails, he's talking about you — all of you.

the moonlight along with the dim fairy lights of your room make you look like a literal angel, he swears he can see the wings and halo.

“let me return the favor?” you ask, if only you knew he'd give you the world if you let him, he doesn't even have to think before he's nodding, a dumb lovesick smile makes it's way onto his face as he lets you maneuver his hand around and paint his nails a pretty blue — the same shade he picked for your nails.

meaning you two are matching, he finds that adorable. he also finds you adorable and wants to just bite your cheek, just a little nibble. he shakes his head slightly as if he's shaking the thought away which works, not really.

“look we're matching!” you put your hand besides his, your long nails matching his in the same blue shade. “yeah we are,” he softly mutters, wanting to lace your fingers through his but ultimately holds himself back.

he feels sad when you pull your hands away once you're done painting his nails — he would hold your hand for eternity if you let him.

he feels the tension again, his eyes lingering a second too long on your figure as you put the supplies back in your closet, with your back turned to him he can only think about one thing, you — your waist and how he'd love to grab it while he presses needy kisses all over your neck, sucking and biting, leaving marks, he wonders how you'd whisper his name when his touch gets a little rough and demanding, squeezing and groping all he can reach-

woah there, can't afford a boner here mark, calm down.

he wants to kiss every inch of your body and worship you, he wants — no, he needs to.

he shifts a bit under the sheets when a familiar feeling starts to settle in his gut, waiting for you to come back to bed. although he's almost sure it'll only increase the intensity of the heat he's feeling.

you crawl back into bed, shifting around to find a comfortable position. thankfully, your stupid jokes ease his nerves a bit. he finds himself leaning closer to you, drawn to you like a moth to a flame, so here you two are almost pressed against each other, lying side by side as you two watch tiktoks on your phone, wrapped in your balnket.

“why is your whole fyp brainrot?” he'd complain and then end up laughing, although he insisted it wasn't funny.

a few more giggles and shared laughter later, he realizes just how close you two are to each other, he'd barely have to move to kiss those pretty lips of yours, would you taste like that slushie you two shared earlier? he wants to find out, he really wants to.

a small yawn escapes your lips and he swears he falls in love over again.

“tired?” he asks softly, as if speaking a little too loud would ruin the tranquility of it all. 

“mhm.”

“i'm not letting you watch tiktoks till 3am, come on, let's get you to sleep hm?”

he takes your phone away, his fingers brushing against yours, the contact making his heart skip a beat.

“i still have to do,” another yawn, “my skincare,” you mutter, desperately trying to keep your eyes open.

he sheepishly offers to do it for you, he quickly gets out of bed the second you tell him what you need and where your skincare products are because if he stays this close to your sleepy form a second longer he'll end up kissing your forehead and saying those eight letters he's been meaning to say for years.

he brushes your hair out of your face, helping you with your skincare. he rubs the sweet smelling moisturizer into your skin gently, first your hands, he smiles when he sees his nails matching yours, he's never going to shut up about this moment.

then he helps you apply it to your face, taking his sweet time savoring the feeling of your skin underneath his fingertips, his rough calloused hands working skillfully.

“mark?”

“hm?”

“thank you, seriously you're the best.” 

he's going to scream, he's glad your eyes are closed shut or otherwise he's sure you'd be able to spot the flush that adorns his cheeks.

then comes the serum, and finally the cherry flavored lip balm. you pucker your lips and glide the tube across your lips, coating them in a shiny slightly sticky layer.

great, you just made them more kissable. he's going to crash out.

you innocently offer him some, he can't say no to you, even you should know this by now.

his heart picks up again when you apply your lip balm to his slightly dry lips, going back and forth a couple times for good measure, his lips now shiny.

and then the realization hits him — he just indirectly kissed you. his heart might as well just beat out of his chest with the way it's pounding so hard against his ribs, like a drum.

his self control is hanging on by a thread, you tuck yourself and him in bed, sleepily mumbling, “goodnight mark,” you sound so sweet, his name on your tongue — sweeter than honey, it’s enough to drive him crazy.

and as your eyes close to get some much needed rest, he mumbles back, “goodnight.”

once he's sure you're fully asleep, he adds, “goodnight my angel,” stroking your head gently, reverently.

he presses a small kiss to your forehead, maybe, just maybe one day, he'll tell you how his heart aches for you, how it longs to hold you and be held in your loving arms — his love for you is consuming, his heart overflowing with it, he's sure if you cut open his chest, your name would be seen engraved on his heart and he wouldn't have it any other way, he will always love you.

even if you don't.

but he prays everyday that you do.

© digitald0rk 2025. do not repost / steal any of my work or you'll get explosive diarrhea and rexsplode! want more? click here ★

[alaskassweetdump]

my two favorite gals from Tennessee have teamed up for an amazing interview!

Dolly has a new rock album coming out soon (she sang all of her husband's favorite songs, an absolutely adorable fun fact)! Dolly mentions so many amazing rock star women in this article. She even shocked Yelyah with her Petals for Armor knowledge.

I just know Yelyah had the time of her life doing this interview. Dolly Parton is America's Sweetheart. No one is as pure as she is, I'm convinced.

[vanilla-voyeur]

Drag queens really saw Dolly Parton support early childhood literacy and thought they could do the same thing with bigger hair and faker boobs