#but i won't recant

[lotus-pear]

hear me out but. Mori’s character design is really, really good. most characters in bsd have some sort of eccentricity to them. And in creating a design for the leader of the Port Mafia, most people would go wild and make him have some unique aspect of his appearance to make him stand out. But Mori’s really Just Some Guy. I mean that in the way that he could walk by anyone on the street and no one would look twice. He’s literally just some mildly aged man.

and that’s really great character design. him being such a normal and unassuming guy makes him so much more of a threat. You’d never suspect him.

If you run into him and then try to describe him to your coworkers, what do you say? “Yeah he’s a guy of average height.. black hair… in his 40s? he was wearing a black suit with a black coat.” Well you’ve just described half the people in your city, good luck narrowing that down to your suspect.

everyone else could be easily described in one sentence and everyone would know who you’re talking about. “The guy with the bandages” “kid with white hair and a really bad haircut” “guy who dresses like he’s cosplaying Sherlock Holmes”

with Mori, the most identifiable thing he’s got is his red scarf, and he doesn’t even wear that all the time. When he’s outside of the mafia, half the time he’s cosplaying as a doctor.

not a single person in Yokohama would suspect that he’s the mafia’s boss.

you're absolutey correct anon i'm probably gonna lose like a hundred followers for saying this but i actually rly like mori and find him an intriguing and well written character. that doesn't mean i condone his actions but tbh the bsd fandom tends to concentrate on that one aspect as if literally every other character isn't problematic💀💀 its bsd guys. no one is good.

[wallowing-wallflowers]

How The Coyote Stole The Stars

By Fern

Long ago, in the stretching granite mountains of Idaho, there lived a mischievous and keen Coyote. Coyote had always been captivated by the night sky, especially with the bright stars that sparkled like precious gemstones. A relentless desire to possess the glory of the stars caused Coyote to plan a scheme; to one night steal them from the heavens.

Under the cover of darkness, Coyote stealthily approached the nighttime canvas, his eyes gleaming with mischief. He lept and snatched all of the stars in his maw, weaving them into his fur until he shined as brightly as the night sky itself, all while grinning gleefully. As Coyote reveled in his newfound glow, the night grew dimmer, and the once-beautiful sky lost its brilliance.

Concerned for the balance of light and nature, Raven, a wise and crafty bird known for his friendship with Coyote, noticed the fading stars and felt compelled to step in. Soaring across the dark sky, Raven used his jet-black feathers and sharp wit to locate Coyote and confront him.

"Coyote, my friend, the beauty of the stars belongs to everyone," he squawked as he perched on a rock and faced Coyote. "Dimming the night for all creatures, taking them for yourself, it’s not right! Please, consider recanting your theft and sharing their brilliance with the world."

But Raven's plea was disregarded by Coyote, who was not just captivated but oddly empowered by the stolen light of the stars. "The stars are mine now, and mine alone. I won't share their beauty with anyone," he proclaimed stubbornly.

Undeterred, Raven decided to ask Wolf for support. Wolf, who was renowned for his strength and fearlessness, agreed to go with Raven on a journey to persuade Coyote to change his mind.

The duo ventured through the vast mountains using their night vision to see despite the dying light of the night sky. At last they came to Coyote's den, where he sat, soaked in the starlight. They approached him with a combination of intimidation and flattery. Raven and Wolf pleaded with Coyote to see reason.

Wolf, with a voice like a gentle breeze, spoke first: "Coyote, stealing the stars is not the way. Let us find an agreement that preserves the beauty of the night for everyone, and that allows you to keep some of the beauty for yourself.

After a great deal of convincing from both Raven and Wolf, Coyote begrudgingly accepted a compromise. Wolf suggested Coyote save just one jar of stars for himself, letting the rest of the stars return to the night sky and light up the earth for all creatures. 

With a heavy sigh, Coyote released most of the stolen stars, watching them ascend like snow, back to their skyward home. The night sky, once dimmed, regained its dazzling beauty, and the balance of nature was restored.

[dearharriet]

It; Remus Lupin 🦟

summary: remus is the feral swamp animal you fed that keeps coming back (18+)

word count: ~2K

warnings: explicit sexual content—MDNI, fem!r, fingering, oral (both parties), unprotected piv, squirting(ish), religious content (mentions of god, sin, etc.), southern!remus, southern!r, remus is unwashed and unhoused (and also the poorest little meow meow of all time)

authors note: if u couldn’t tell, this is based on it will come back by hozier

Remus said he wanted you breathing, so he never came at night. Never, though you wanted him to, and he left long before dusk. You knew he’d rather not come at all, or rather he never met you, but you didn’t care. What he insisted was sin usually made you feel the best you ever had, and you weren’t repenting.

You thought sin could be beautiful sometimes. Remus certainly was, and he insisted something was wrong with him—in the head, in the body. The way he talked about himself made him sound like a sticky bog mud, sucking unsuspecting people down to be ‘gator food; like any day soon he’d sink his teeth into you and drag you off into the woods.

Still you waited for him. Every day was his last, and every morning he crawled pale-faced onto your back step, a heat wilder than a Louisiana summer in his eyes.

He didn't have to speak, but he’d recant anyways, eating words he’d said only hours before. His big hands would claw at the threshold, like he was undone from being away from you so long, and his deep voice would settle between your thighs.

“Won't you let me in, Sugar? Missed you somethin’ awful last night.”

Lacerations colored his face, some new and some old. You’d have found the fucker that made them if they didn’t give you an excuse to be closer to Remus.

“Don’t know why you leave at all, if you come back lookin’ this way, honey,” you cooed, ushering him inside.

He tended to track mud in, but you didn’t mind. When Remus first came and went, you had a hard time figuring it was real, but an hour on your knees made you believe again.

You sat Remus on the edge of your tub.

“Easier to see you when it’s light,” he replied. “The dark’s the only thing that’ll take you away from me.”

Carting antiseptics and cotton his way, you landed just beside him, dumping the supplies onto the toilet.

“Y’know there’s such thing as a lamp, don’t you baby?” He hung his head, but you pushed it back up, fingers lost in his matted hair. “Let light shine out of darkness, he said.”

“Stop,“ he chided softly, his eyes fluttering shut. You leaned in to kiss his weary cheek, your lips coming away sticky with his copper blood. It was tangy on your tongue when you cleaned it off, earthy. You went back in for seconds.

Remus groaned as you licked a stripe over a gash by his eye. In pain or in pleasure, you weren’t sure, but you thought he liked it either way.

“This won’t end well for ya,” he croaked. Your tongue laved over a shallow cut on his throat, sucked. “I ain’t—ah—ain’t no good.”

His breath came heavy all the time, but it kicked up something awful when you were on him, when he was in you. You were working up to that, shimmying his shirt up to suck all the way down his slender torso.

“W’bout you,” you said into the hair on his navel. “It don’t bother you, endin’ up alone?”

A stunted breath escaped him, barely contained, as you slid to your knees. When your fingers weaseled under his peeling belt, Remus caught your wrists, eyes on yours.

“I’ll always end up alone.” He swallowed. “The question is if I’ll be a killer or not.”

There was that word. Killer. It was like a third party to the light-switch relationship you had with Remus.

“What difference does it make if you are,” you ask.

The leather folded out of the buckle, and he didn’t stop you. His eyes hid away again.

“Get up.”

“Y’already said God won’t forgive you, right?” You pulled him out of his ratty boxers, holding him firmly by the base. “What’s one more sin…?”

“This ain’t about God, sugar.” His hands were still caging your wrists, but they shook with restraint, and tightened when you suckled on the head of his cock.

“What, then?” You prodded, and then took him into your mouth. A whimper scraped out of him, lecherous and disturbed, and you drank it in.

“‘S ‘bout…your smile,” he whined, “on the backs of my eyelids when I go t’—to sleep.”

You hummed around him, pushing him into the back of your throat and swallowing. He struggled to continue.

“‘S about my—ah—my guilt, followin’ me like a ghost.”

Remus was shaking like a leaf, hands leaving your wrists to white-knuckle the tub. You came up for air, staring up as you played with him.

“God’s made a lotta evil things, Remus, but love ain’t one of ‘em.” Leaning back down, you kissed the tip of his cock. “You ain’t one of ‘em.”

As you blew on his slicked length, Remus squirmed and panted.

“It ain’t the love that scares me, it’s—‘s the lust, the—“ His leg spasmed and he doubled over, mouth breathing hot and shaken over your hairline. “When I see you, I wanna—I want—“

You shushed him, reaching a hand over his neck to scratch and rub the space there.

“I know,” you assured him, “I know.”

His head rocked a shake against yours, and he moaned in despair as you let go of his cock. Looking up, you took Remus’ face into your hands and pressed your forehead to his.

“Are ya gonna waste me,” you pressed, nipping at his bottom lip. “Go to hell in vain?”

Remus’ nostrils flared, his tortured brows settling. Then he was lowering himself to the floor and laying you out on the bathroom tile. You knew what he was thinking—there was no time to slither into bed, no need. The sun was Remus’ minister, and it was closer to dying than the minute before.

He crawled over you, prowling and hungry, and didn’t waste a second with your clothing. He always said he wanted you as you came, no dress-up or makeover. He was a creature of priority, and his time felt much better spent sucking between your thighs than staring at them.

His tongue swept in and out of your sopping hole, cleansing you and then ruining you all over again. The stubble on his face was surely leaving burns on the soft inner skin of your legs, but it felt right. Your combined dissolution only made you cry louder, made him press harder to your navel to keep you down.

“Remus,” you whined, closing your thighs over his head. He only groaned and smiled, finally finding some release from his aching hopelessness.

“I’m starvin’, sugar,” he panted into you, pressing his bruised nose into your folds. “Gimme something worth payin’ for.”

You arched and writhed, the tile warming underneath you as you begged Remus not to stop. His thick fingers pushed into you, pressing up into your ribbed walls as he sucked your clit cruelly, and you fell apart. You reached down to hold his head in place, pulling his hair, and Remus moaned into you. The vibrations topped what you thought was already insurmountable pleasure, and your eyes rolled back, mouth hanging open.

When you came to, Remus was still between your legs, relentlessly stuffing your wetness back into you. His tongue was like sandpaper on your clit suddenly, and shocks rolled through your body.

“Uh-uh,” you shook your head, grasping at his hair.

“Uh-huh,” Remus moaned into you, making you moan in return.

“Rem—uh—please,” you wailed, “please, please—fuck me before you have to go.”

Remus laid his forearm over your stomach and sucked harder. A tear slid down the side of your face, overstimulation pushing you to incoherence.

“Remus—Remus, please. B’fore the sun goes down,” you sobbed, desperate.

Remus breathed a laugh.

“Eight AM, baby,” he retorted, his voice like liquid smoke, “we got a little more time than that.”

You braced yourself and accepted your fate, pouring the inescapable buzz out of your eyes, chest heaving. Remus just petted your hip where he held it still and groaned into your cunt when you choked and shook through a second orgasm.

Lax on the floor you laid, legs shaking and core pulsing. Belatedly, your moans registered in your mind, how needy they were. You must’ve been out of your mind to ask for more.

“Rem.” Reaching blindly, you found his hand on your stomach and squeezed.

“I know, precious,” he drawled, and you heard his belt buckle clang against the floor. He snuck over you, kissing damply on your chest and neck.

“Didn't that God ever teach you patience,” Remus whispered into your mouth. You grinned wildly.

“He tried.”

Your laughs morphed into moans as Remus’ cock nestled into your cunt.

“Fuck,” you swore, “‘s big.”

Remus snapped his hips and groaned into your jaw. He set a steady rhythm, engulfed in you. He was breathing in your scent, squeezing the meat of your hips in his hands. It always surprised you how lost he became, almost drunk on the feeling of you wrapped around him.

You were a goner, too, nails scratching down Remus’ back every time his pubic bone grinded onto your swollen clit. It only spurred his thrusts faster, grunts escaping him in tight gusts.

“C’mon,” he rasped, “c’mon, sugar, please.”

He was close, his voice tense and his abdomen tensing over yours. You hiked up a leg and he took it into his own hand, propping it up for you. You were spread wide for him, your cunt suctioning and gushing around him lewdly, and his cock only felt bigger. It might’ve been prodding at your stomach, and when his met yours with every slap of his hips it squeezed at your bladder.

“Oh, God,” you whimpered, head falling back.

Remus knew not to fix something that wasn’t broken. He kept his angle and pace as best he could until your feet curled.

“Want ya, sugar.” He was untethered, whining and consumed. “Can’t letcha go—I can’t.”

Enraptured, you held Remus tight as you shook and twitched against your will, a mess of fluids soaking the hair at the base of his cock. Remus followed immediately, grinding mindlessly into your gripping cunt and howling into your neck.

You stayed glued together as you both panted, his cock softening in you. Neither of you liked to escape the feeling sooner than you had to, so you basked on the bathroom floor for a long while before washing up.

Remus always stayed for lunch, and you always cleaned him up, and you always let him shower and sleep as he wished. Your bed was an obvious option, but he wouldn’t lay in it; wouldn’t even look at it, most days. He took the couch, if anything, and he wouldn’t hear your admonishments about back pain.

When the frogs started croaking, it was time for him to leave.

“M’sorry to come back like this,” he said, like he’d never done so before. “Won’t happen again.”

“I’m sure,” you sang with a glint in your eyes.

“I mean it, baby. Y’gotta stop bein’ so kind to me.” He pressed you against the wall by your door, stony-faced. “If I drag my sorry ass back here tomorrow, promise you won’t let me in.”

You kissed him softly in response. “I promise.”

Breathing labored, he pushed away.

“Good.” Remus stepped outside. “Now you lock this door when I’m gone, y’hear me?”

“Yes, sir.”

Sighing, Remus turned and crept back to the bayou, and—like every night—you waited for the coyotes to sing you to sleep.

+

thank you for reading <3

masterlist

[blee-bleep]

pinagtagpo ngunit hindi tinadhana puso natin ay hindi sa isa't-isa

smol fic

Sucy didn't listen to music a lot but when she did, her playlist was admittedly pretty drab. She liked working in silence most of the time so she couldn't see much use in having a preference for music, but when she did she just let on whatever was on the radio, if there was.

Her roommate couldn't say the same. Actually, Sucy recants her statement about not having preference; she couldn't tolerate pop music for her life. Especially the ones that stayed blasting on the radio for months before being blown over by a newer, more obnoxious pop song.

Her siblings back in Cebu liked music though, enough for them to blast through their speakers and let the whole household know, not giving a shit if it bothered the other dwellers inside the house. However, as much as she claims she disliked the noise her siblings claim to be music, she couldn't help but let it trickle into her playlist. Hours upon hours of karaoke accounted for that.

So it's not weird to find some Filipino classics between the classical ones, the only other genre that Sucy could listen to while working. Some Eraserheads, UDD, Rivermaya, Itchyworms, Asin, hell, even Apo Hiking Society was in it.

Akko though, oh Sucy hates Akko's taste for music.

Robotic voices, insane fast-paced rhythms, either or also Kpop, Jpop, or just the latest Top 100 in the West. It was a mess. Much messier than whatever Sucy had back home. At least the language was familiar. This storm of a noise was not.

But Sucy sooner or later made peace with it when over time, she slowly let her walls down around Akko. Well, more like Akko had successfully knocked them down. Even after being treated like Sucy's guinea pig for her chemical experiments, she is still up and opening her arms to Sucy. A little too wide open.

One night, when Akko had come back from an afterparty that O'niell (the redhead asshat which she hung out so much) had held, she was drunk. Wasted. And accidentally puked on the foot of Sucy's desk. To be honest, she expected Akko to not come back until morning, as per usual of her shenanigans on campus.

She told Akko to clean her mess up before going to bed and went back to sleep annoyed. Akko, surprisingly, did as she was told. But had also climbed onto Sucy's side of the room. The sudden dip in Sucy's bed shook her awake.

Sucy leveled her drunk ass with a deathly stare. "What."

"What? It's cold in my bed."

"With all those stupid stuffed animals?"

"It's different," Akko sniffled. "Please? Just this once."

Sucy stared at Akko's face enough to see if this was the result of the foul gin in her breath and contemplated stuffing her in her duvet and letting her suffocate. But something must've happened at the party because Akko didn't usually look like that. Upon closer inspection, her eyes were glassy. Nose red, not from the cold, but from an obvious meltdown. After a few more seconds of staring, Sucy begrudgingly let her in.

And maybe it was the remaining alcohol in her system because then Akko turned her head and whispered, "Y'know, you're really nice."

"Shut up and go to sleep."

"No, for real. Like, thanks for putting up with my shit."

"Lotte puts up with you too."

"Yeah, love her for that. Ne," Akko suddenly turned and now they were face to face.

Too close, Sucy thinks. She hates that it's so close like this.

"Can you play some of your songs?"

"Why?"

"Dunno', just feelin like listening."

"If you're gonna start dancing on my bed, I will kick you out of this room and you're going to have to sleep in the hallway."

Akko giggles in this drunkenly stupid way and Sucy cannot believe that out of all the times Akko has laughed, this is the one that gets Sucy to think she's cute. She hopes it's dark enough that Akko doesn't notice her face turning red.

"I won't! My feet are way too tired for that," Akko shifts. "I trust you to have great taste. Just play anything. I'll like it."

"And if you don't?"

"It's you," Akko laughs. "I won't."

Somehow, Sucy lets her do this. And she opened her downloaded playlist; the only playlist on her phone, and set it down. It hummed out Orange and Lemon's Hanggang Kailan into the room, low enough to not be of an annoyance but enough for the lyrics to be heard.

Sucy blushes at the random pick of the song but doesn't move to change it. Fortunately, Akko doesn't understand Tagalog and just hums.

"Hehe, see. You have good taste."

"Shut up and go to sleep."

After that, Akko goes still and silent. Sucy can't do the same. She can sleep through Akko's snores like every other night, but when the music she typically has for the background is suddenly open like this, she suddenly becomes much more aware of the lyrics.

Umuwi ka na baby 'Di na ako sanay ng wala ka Mahirap ang mag-isa At sa gabi'y hinahanap-hanap kita

"Jesus Christ," Sucy whispers and turns so that her back is to Akko's. The bed is too small to move a lot. "This song is so corny."

She hears, feels Akko chuckling. "I like it."

The song is slow to end, and when it does, Armi Millare's voice comes out, serenading,

Ba't 'di papatulan ang pagsuyong nagkulang? Tayong umaasang hilaga't kanluran Ikaw ang hantungan, at bilang kanlungan mo Ako ang sasagip sa 'yo, whoa-oh

Again, this song is slow to close. When it does, Magnus Haven, a band Sucy isn't exactly familiar with but her sister had told her to listen, comes on. Sucy thought Akko was finally asleep before she heard her humming along to the second chorus. Sucy stills and lets her be, her eyes slowly closing, mind losing to sleep.

"... What does tadhana mean?"

"Huh?" Sucy rasps. "Destiny, or I guess, fate. Why?"

"Huh," Akko whispers the word again. "So you like those kinda songs, huh Sucy?"

Sucy blushed and was about to reprimand that Akko's taste in music wasn't better but then she heard the other girl snoring, already asleep.

Maybe it started from there, maybe earlier or later, but it was certainly a factor in how and why Sucy developed a crush like that.

Sucy wasn't as uncaring to Akko's business as she claims to be. As her roommate, she admittedly was more concerned for her than she let on. So when Sucy notices that Akko is not in the mood for experiments, or has other problems to deal with, Sucy gives her some allowance and lets her do what she thinks would calm her down. Letting her blast her music and dance her stress away, or letting her listen to Sucy's music and let her ask some dumb questions that would take her mind off what was confusing her.

Sucy is no white knight though. She won't be the one to save Akko in her every state. Sucy rationalizes her feeling of it being a result of proximity. And she won't let her heart get the best of her.

But one night, when Akko comes back to the room, Sucy notices her head is down. She is looking at something, but Sucy can't make it out.

That night, Akko asks if they could share the bed again. It's a cold night, Sucy rationalizes and lets her. Somehow, not even requested, Sucy hesitatingly places her arm across Akko's neck. Neither of them moves. Sucy waits.

"Diana asked me out today," Akko whispers. Sucy felt herself turn to stone. It's a moment before Akko says, "I don't know what she sees in a klutz like me."

everything.

Sucy holds her tongue and slowly breathes, trying to not let the night's cold make her freeze and give her an excuse to let Akko be trapped in her arms. Instead, she forces herself to sit up. Akko is facing away from her, looking at her hand.

Maybe this'll be the last time, Sucy thinks and her hand sneaks to Akko's free hand and touches it. It flinches a bit before slowly letting their fingers intertwine together. It's intimate like this. But Sucy knows this wouldn't be anything but platonic.

"Ne," Akko whispers again. "Will you play some of your songs again?"

And so Sucy does. When she sets her phone down, she slouches slightly, and unconsciously gathers a strand of Akko's hair in her free hand, playing with it absentmindedly. Akko doesn't say anything.

Sucy doesn't say she's finally made a separate playlist which consists of songs Akko said she liked.

Time goes to a crawl as Sucy's chest grows heavier. As the night goes on, as Akko's eyes shut to sleep, Juan Karlos's and Sucy's voice goes,

"Oh, 'di ba? Nakakaputang ina Tayo'y lumilipad, at ako'y iniwan mo pa 'Di ba? Ginawa mo pa akong tanga Tayo'y lumilipad, at ako'y iniwan mo, hmm"

[nekrosdolly]

older wesker hcs!

i fucking love old men...

cw; major age gap (15-35 years), reader is at least mid-twenties or early thirties, silly old man things, wesker is a SENIOR CITIZEN, current-day au, gn!reader

a/n; very much inspired by a silly conversation in the comments under one of my posts with @thatgirlgames

old!wesker, who's pissed off half the time because being in the pit of lava burned the Uroboros right out of his system so now, for the last fourteen years, he's been living like a normal person.

old!wesker, who's constantly remembering and recanting the past like it'll actually change something (it won't, he's just crabby)

old!wesker, whose joints pop and crack every five seconds due to old age.

old!wesker, who can't wear sunglasses inside anymore because they hurt his eyes too much, so he sticks to very thick, prescription bifocals in a similar style.

old!wesker, who's shocked that you even wanted to be with a dude in his sixties. he appreciates the company.

old!wesker, who's aged fairly well, given that the aging process was staved off by Uroboros for some time.

old!wesker, whose energy supply has depleted thanks to being older. can't do as much as he wants to, not without his back threatening to throw itself out.

old!wesker, who wakes up at the crack of dawn to start his day. he takes multivitamins to remain at least a little healthy for his retirement years. if his developing arthritis gets too bad he uses a cane here and there, but you're always by his side to help him out.

old!wesker, who feels a little bit weak every time you have to help him with something. maybe it's the way he was raised, but he can't just let you do everything for him. he's supposed to be a man- a strong and smart one at that, mind you- and it irks him when he can't be that for you.

old!wesker, who despises how he's slowly started to settle into more age-appropriate hobbies, such as watching birds or doing the daily crossword in the newspaper (New York Times only, thank you very much.) although he finds it sweet how you don't tease him about it.

old!wesker, who adores how you snuggle up to him in the morning, putting a temporary pause to his grumpiness. he is happy to be alive and with you, even if life hasn't been the most kind to him (nor him to it, either.)

[arihi]

Abuse >:) I won't even toggle anon

(CW: Abusive dynamics and abuse (per the prompt) - skip if that's not your thing!)

“Again.”

I flinched instinctively, my stomach dropping when I heard laughter instead of the tell-tale snap of a riding crop and the associated pain. I felt nothing but deadened, faded welts, the chill of the floor against my knees, and a queasiness in the pit of my stomach.

“Oh darling,” Trina cooed. “What’s the matter?”

“N-Nothing,” I stammered lamely. I pulled my wrists against the restraints, the chains clacking against the pipes and the sounds echoing throughout the basement.

“Why it almost seemed…” She ran her fingers gently down the raised welts across my chest. “…like you didn’t like me.”

“That’s not true!” I blurted out. “I love you, Trina, I do, I just-” I hated disappointing her. “…Can we maybe move out of the basement at least? It’s cold and I like your bed better,” I pleaded in a desperate attempt to have boundaries. And yet, that wasn’t what I really wanted. My skin burned, my muscles ached at the position I had been holding for what felt like hours, and I was ready to stop. I never even wanted to start it, at least not tonight.

But starting here could be the first step.

“Baby, you know I can’t do that.” Trina looked concerned. “Last time, well…you know you’re a screamer, right?” She played at shyness, though I knew she had delighted in my screams at the time. “Last time we were playing, the neighbors heard, and that was a whole thing…and you’ve only just barely made up for it.” Her eyes looked like they were shimmering with tears.

The queasiness again. I looked back down. “…I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She pet my hair soothingly. “That’s why we’re down here.”

“I—” I swallowed a lump in my throat. Asserting boundaries. No is a complete sentence. My comfort is a priority. “I don’t want to…'play' anymore. Can we be done? A-at least tonight?” Hesitation had crept through into my voice in the last sentence, but that was the most I had said as a challenge to her in what felt like ages, and a part of me was proud.

“You what?” Trina frowned.

I grimaced from the wave of nausea that slammed into my battered body. Alarm bells went off in my brain, as if I’d made a horrible mistake, as if I’d just committed such a grievous wrong that the very core of my being shuddered in disgust.

“I just mean, I mean we’ve been doing this for a while, and aren’t you tired? We could both take a break!” I desperately recanted, anything to get rid of that feeling.

She stood there, frowning at me, my physical discomfort growing exponentially, my body attempting to curl inwards in agony, if only my arms hadn’t been tied to the pipes.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I started mumbling, tears wetting my cheeks. “I won’t do it again.” Shame and humiliation and a rush of chemical pleasure flooded my veins, my body sinking into a sigh of relief, the pleasurable throbbing of my body. Fuck.

“That’s a good girl.” Her face broke out into a wide smile. “I’m so glad you understand. You know, I hate being mad at you. And it’s not right for a relationship to just be one-sided. Fighting is healthy for relationships. I want you to be able to challenge me on things, and then when you’re done and we both come to a solution, I want it to feel good for you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, yes,” I whimpered, my toes curled and fists balled up trying to bear the pleasure that threatened to overwhelm me.

“Aw baby, it’s okay!” Her sickly-sweet voice dug its claws into me, comforted the inner turmoil in my mind. “Just relax, okay? I know you’re so good at doing that for me. Doesn’t it feel better to just, drop it? To relax?”

“Yeeesss…” It came from the back of my throat in one long sigh, like I was relieving my stress and losing a part of myself with every deep breath. It came from the back of my throat like all the other times I’d said yes to her, like all the times I agreed, all the times I relented…

“What’s this?” She swatted at my crotch with the crop lightly, the fabric of my underwear sticking to my skin. “Are you getting turned on by this?” She spat out with a sneer.

…Like all the times I came.

My ears burned. “I—”

“Sweetie, sweetie.” Trina’s voice softened again. “It’s okay, to like the things that you like. No one can judge you here, okay?” She hugged me gently as I leaned my tired body against her legs.

“But, out there…those neighbors,” she whispered, saddened. “Who knows what they’d tell people if they knew what you did? What you were into? What got you so fucking wet?” She ripped the thin, flimsy fabric from me, the coolness of the air on my slick skin a stark contrast to how feverish my head felt. “It’d be bad, right?” I nodded against her absentmindedly.

“Then we can’t tell anyone, right?” She knelt and met me at eye-level, face to face. “We can never tell anyone about your deepest desires? Your shames?”

“No…” I sighed, a part of my soul fading away with my breath.

“It’s better not to tell anyone about what goes on in this household really, people can be so nosy.” She rolled her eyes with a grin.

“Yes…” My body felt heavier than it’d ever been, my eyes threatening to close.

“Good.” For a brief second her eyes softened, a genuine, small smile on her face. Those were the fleeting moments I lived for. I knew she was a good person who just played at being harsh. Because I was asking for it. Because I deserved it. Because she loved me. Right?

Her eyes lit up in rapturous glee. “Well, without further ado.” She jammed the discarded panties into my mouth, her fingers uncomfortably prying my jaw open as I choked on the fabric being stuffed into the back of my throat.

“Remember, no screaming.”

---

(a short story for sleepingirl, a wicked pervert)

[dailydemonspotlight]

I know you've done Shiva in the past, so I was wondering if you could do Parvati as well? She's endlessly fascinating, and I think it would be awesome to see you cover her in a future post

Parvati - Day 35 (Request)

Race: Megami

Alignment: Light-Neutral

May 9th, 2024

Hinduism is one of the most sprawling religions out there- an interconnecting web of gods and tales, stories about figures whose worship still follows them today. It's an endlessly fascinating subject, one which is still the subject of scholarly debate and religion, but in this maze of subjects there lays a god or two that are beloved in spite of the fact they aren't one of the 'Big Three,' so to speak. One of these deities is our demon of the day, the Hindu goddess of love, marriage, and devotion, Parvati.

Boasting one of my favorite designs in the series as well as some fascinating folklore, Parvati is a figure important in name and stature- as goddess of love and beauty, she stands for all kinds of love, whether it be romantic, platonic, or familial- she's a figure representing the bonds that tie most humans together. Due to this, she's popular, to say the least, found extensively throughout ancient Indian folklore and literature. She also stands as a very important figure in the mythos, being both one of the wives of Shiva as well as birthing Ganesha and Skanda, two other very important figures.

However, how she came about is a story just as interesting as the sum of its parts, a story involving... another demon in the series! Hooray! I won't recant it here to let that other demon, Sati, get her own spotlight, but in effect, Parvati is the reincarnation of the goddess born as a human. Upon Sati immolating herself in prayer to be reborn as a goddess worthy of consorting with Shiva, she would be reborn as Parvati, the daughter of Himalayas, who immediately found herself overcome with the urge to seek out Shiva yet again. During a bit of (literal) soul searching, the gods realized that they needed yet more of Shiva's offspring to help battle the monsters who began invading the world- monsters like Pisacha, Preta, or Rakshasa began to run rampant, causing untold mayhem- and so, in order to stoke the flames of Shiva's suppressed desire, they ended up coming to the difficult decision to sacrifice the then-god of love, Kama, to inspire Shiva.

Now feeling a deep and unsanctioned lust, Shiva began to search out another partner of his own and, eventually, had reunited with Parvati, now a proper goddess in her own right instead of the half-human Sati. Due to the sacrifice of Kama, the gods decided to elect Parvati as the new patron of love and desire, as well as letting her and Shiva wed. Later down the line, the two, ahem, procreated, giving birth to 6 children at first... who were all fused together soon after, forming Kartikeya (hilariously referenced in SMT IV with the following line)

"So mother sent you here... I thought she might have. Still, I don't want to go back! Never! Why...? ...Because I'm scared. Yeah, that's right. I'm scared of my mother. Well, Mother's very kind, but... It's just that... She's just way too out there! Like she doesn't belong in this Universe! I used to be six kids! But Mother hugged us all together, and we got merged into one person. Who has that kind of power!? That's just not right! Look... Once, she accidentally cut off somebody's head, and then she just replaced it with an elephant's head. My entire family is messed up!"

Later on, they also gave birth to the elephant-headed Ganesha, as well as discovering their ability to effectively fusion-dance their way into a new form, that being the intersex Ardha. Lastly, and most interestingly, Parvati isn't just the goddess of all things sweet and sappy- no, she's fully capable of demon slaying too. One of her aspects is the fierce, demon battling goddess of table-turning, the fearless and passionate Durga, who also has an even more fearsome aspect of herself, the infamously deadly Kali, goddess of death and time's passage. Yes, this woman is technically the same as Kali. That Kali. I was shocked too.

There's so much more to dig into with Parvati, given the interlocking threads of Hinduism, but I'll have to call it off here so any later demon spotlights can have their time in the sun. Overall, I love Parvati. A lot. Her design is beautiful and fascinating and she has an incredibly interesting backstory- but how is she depicted in SMT? It's... complicated, but I love it regardless. The design in the megaten series is rather faithful, depicting her in a Hindu headdress and decorated with vibrant pinks and sandy gold, all the while holding a flower, a representation of the love that Parvati stands for. The flowers coming out of the headdress also play into this theme, as well as giving her a more recognizable silhouette outside of a humanoid form. I also, honestly, just find her design really pretty looking- the pinks, golds, and whites all come together to make a gorgeous collage of colors combined with a gentle, nurturing expression. Her outfit also just looks really neat. In Nocturne, she also evolves from Sati, a great reference to the stories surrounding the self-immolating woman.

In gameplay, while she's not the strongest in terms of attacks, she serves as a powerful healer in most games in the series, typically learning both healing skills, status inflicting skills, and buffing skills through level-up. She also can learn some very powerful magical attacks, though most of the time she should be specced more for support if anything. Overall, Parvati is a wonderfully depicted demon with fascinating folklore that is one of my favorites in the series, and absolutely deserves the demon spotlight.

[merlot-and-chardonnay]

A Lark Among the Wolves and Dragons:

Chapter 4

Chapter 3

-------present day: Kaer Morhen--------------

You woke up the next morning, naked under the sheets. You look around, seeing Geralt was nowhere to be seen.

You get up and walk to the crib, noticing Aemma wasn't where she was supposed to be. You start to panic, but notice there was a little note in the middle. You pick it up and read it, recognizing Geralt's handwriting.

Thought you could use a proper rest after last night's romp beneath the sheets, so I took Aemma to the main hall for breakfast.

Don't worry, she's in good hands.

                            -Geralt

You smile a bit, thinking about last night. You remember how attentive the witcher was to your needs, taking his time and checking in every now and again to make sure it wasn't too much for you and that you were enjoying it. You remembered his soft touches and gentles kisses. You also remembered when you asked for him to be a little rougher he had been hesitant, but did as you requested, still checking to make sure it wasn't too much for you.

Overall it had been a pleasurable evening.

You did feel well rested, but you wanted to spend some time with your daughter now. You put on some clothes and walk to the main hall.

You walk past Ciri's room, hearing some rather unusual sounds coming from there.

You frown a bit and knock on the door, "Ciri?" you call out. You hear a few more sounds and Ciri opens the door. You noticed the girl's face looked rather flushed and her hair disheveled, "Uh, what were you doing in there?" you ask. "...nothing," Ciri answers, looking down like she got caught doing something shameful.

You put two and two together and knew what she had been doing. You had a small smile on your face, "it's nothing to be ashamed of," you tell her. "Uh, what, I wasn't doing anything," Ciri insists, but then recants, "...please don't tell Geralt."

"I won't," you assure, "but I highly doubt he'd make a big deal of it. Besides," you lean over, "it's the best way to figure out what you like in the long run."

Ciri frowned a bit at your cryptic advice, but brushed it off in favor of following you to the dinning area for food.

-----------flashback: the Red Keep-------------

"Oh!

There once was a ship that put to sea

The name of the ship was the Billy of Tea

The winds blew up, her bow dipped down

Oh blow, my bully boys, blow (huh)

She'd not been two weeks from shore

When down on her a right whale bore

The captain called all hands and swore

He'd take that whale in tow"

For context, there was a small council meeting today and Rhaenyra had been called to serve as cup bearer for her father and the other council members. You found this a little odd, given that she was the princess yet here she was being treated as an invisible servant, something you've brought up before, but the princess didn't seem to mind as she saw this as an opportunity to gather information.

Rhaenyra didn't really seem too interested in being a leader, which made sense given how young she is right now.

Even if she did want to be queen, the chances of her actually becoming one were slim at the moment. Her mother was due to give birth any day now and the maesters have predicted the odds of it being a boy were highly likely.

And even if that wasn't the case, her uncle still held the title of Heir Apparent, and unless something happened to him, the chances were still low. 

So while Rhaenyra was carrying out her 'royal duties' you somehow found yourself entertaining her cousins Laenor and Laena Velaryon with a sea shanty.

 You didn't know too much about the Velaryon family, other then they could trace their roots to the similar origins as the Targaryens and were dragon riders in their own right. Corlys Velaryon, Lord of Driftmark, you knew held a seat on the small council and his wife Rhaenys was cousin to Viserys and Daemon.

You also knew the woman once had a chance to be Queen of the Iron Throne as the eldest descendant of the late king Jahaerys, but was passed up in favor of Viserys, the eldest MALE descendent. 

Since then she had been known throughout Westeros as the Queen Who Never Was.

So, here you were entertaining Corlys and Rhaenys' children while waiting for the small council meeting to end.

"Soon may the Wellerman come

To bring us sugar and tea and rum

One day, when the tonguing is done

We'll take our leave and go"

"Again! Do it again!" Laena demands in excitement. "Again?" you feign exasperation, "my lady, this would be the third time. Surely, you wouldn't like to hear another one?" "I want to hear this one again!" the little Velaryon girl insists. "I'd like to hear it again too," Laenor concurs.

"Alright," you say, "One more time. Then we'll move to something else before you get sick of this one."

Before you could start, a male voice interrupts the merriment. It was Corlys calling for his children, who eagerly run to greet their father.

Corlys then sent them both to go find their mother.

You curtsy when the man approaches you, "Lord Corlys," you greet. "I hope my children didn't give you too much grief, Lady troubadour," Corlys laments. "Oh they were no grief at all," you assure, "If anything, quite the opposite." "That song you were singing to them," Corlys points out, "that wouldn't happen to be a Skellige sea shanty would it?"

Your eyes widen a bit in surprise, "yes it is? How did...you know?" "Unlike some in court I am no stranger to customs of lands outside Westeros," Corlys explains, "my ships have often made stops at those isles for trading purposes, and often end in an exchange of cultural customs as well."

"Ever send ships to Kovir?" you ask, "Or Novigrad for that matter? I'd also recommend Toussaint, their wines are excellent and well renown throughout the Continent." "Something I've been considering for some time," Corlys admits, "unfortunately with the trouble in the Stepstones, that is a venture that will have to wait another day."

"Yeah, I've heard," you admit, "I'm sure with enough pressure, the king will eventually do something about it."

You hear Corlys scoff at that. "Well it was worth a try," you admit. "You are funny, lady Bardess," Corlys laughs, "I can see why the princess has taken a liking to you. Thank you for entertaining my children." "It was my pleasure," you say, "now, I must rest for when the princess summons me again. Good day, my lord."

You walk to your quarters when you see Daemon around the corner. You were going to back track and walk the other way, hoping the Prince wouldn't spot you.

That turned out to be wishful thinking.

"(Y/n)?" you hear him call out for you. You stop, sigh a bit, and keep walking. You and Daemon had continued your little clandestine affair since that day, and as promised he'd have the servants bring you the special moon tea.

You also continued serving Rhaenyra and, as you promised a certain Hand of the king, you made sure your illicit trysts were kept discrete.

Well not as discrete as you thought as the princess somehow managed to catch on. She only smiled and wished you the best, making you realize Princess Rhaenyra wasn't as innocent as some had thought; sure she may be a maiden but that didn't mean she was naive to her uncle's philandering ways.

Frankly Daemon's said philandering was the reason why you were wanting to avoid him at the moment, especially after what you heard last night.

You feel the Prince catch up with you, wrapping his arms around you, "trying to play hard to get, Little Lark?" he teases, nuzzling your neck. You, however, were in no mood to entertain him now.

"Where were you last night?" you ask. "Patrolling the streets of King's Landing," Daemon says like it was obvious, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, "I was appointed Commander of the City Watch, you know this. It is my duty to make this city safer for the nobles and the common folk."

"Yeah I heard," you scoff, "raiding homes and killing and cutting down every other man in site REALLY made the streets a lot safer."

"Cutthroats, thieves, and rapers," Daemon points out, "the dregs and scum of the city, you ought not mourn for them."

"Okay, what about after?" you bring, "what did you do after?" "...I took the men out to celebrate a job well done," Daemon answers. "On the street of Silk you mean?" you point out, anger starting to rise.

"What are you trying to say?" Daemon asks, confused.

You pull away, unable to contain your anger, "tell me, Prince, how was she?" you confront. "Who?" "Mysaria," you say, "You fucked her." "Of course, I've fucked her, I've fucked her many times before we even met," Daemon points out. "You fucked her last night," you sneer, "I know you did, and don't you dare try to deny it."

"...Who told you such things?" Daemon asks, "was it Otto?" "It doesn't matter who told me," you say, face filled with heat.

"It was, wasn't it?" Daemon confronts, "(y/n), I've told you, the man's a-" "He's a cunt, yes I know!" you exclaim, "but he didn't tell me. He didn't have to. Everyone in the Red Keep knows what you did last night following your onslaught on the poor and destitute of King's Landing. It wasn't enough to humiliate me once, you had to do it a second time. And just when I was beginning to think I actually meant something to you, that I was more than just your...personal plaything!"

Daemon was taken aback by your words, "(y/n)," he reaches a hand as a way to comfort you, but you slap it away, "don't touch me!"

You turn and walk away in haste back to your room, slamming the door as you did so. You place your lute on the table, careful not to break it, in spite of how angry you were right now. You take deep breaths in an attempt to calm down. You didn't know why you felt this way...actually you weren't sure you even had a right to feel this way.

You knew Daemon; even before meeting him, you knew of his reputation from the brothels you had performed in.

You knew  the man was married, yet he had no qualms of seducing women who weren't his wife. You were just one of his many mistresses he has taken to his bed over the years.

You knew what kind of man he was, how he viewed the women he played with...why would you be any different to him? You knew it all, yet you had chosen to walk into this relationship with your eyes wide open.

Maybe you thought you would be the one who could somehow tame this dragon, but now you see you had been fooling yourself.

  You were pulled from your thoughts when you hear the door to your room open. You turn away, knowing exactly who it was.

"Are you jealous, Little Lark, is that what I'm hearing?" Daemon asks, approaching you. He places a hand on your shoulder and you stiffen in response, "would it make you feel better if I told you I was thinking about you the whole time?" "Oh, I doubt that," you deadpan.

"I was," Daemon insists, resting his head against your shoulder, you making no effort to push him away, "Mysaria may have her ways, that much I'll admit, but...her voice cannot compare to yours. A voice sweet as honey that can quench any man dying of thirst"

"Well, you sure know how to flatter a girl," you say, turning to face him, "Is...is this the only time? Since we've been together I mean?"  "It is," Daemon assures, "I swear by the light of the Seven. And...by whatever gods you Continentals worship." You laugh a little at that, "I'm still mad at you," you admit, "but...I don't want to be."

"How can I make it up to you?" Daemon asks, you hearing the sincerity in his tone as he places a hand on your cheek.

"Don't do it again," you tell him in a stern voice, arms crossed, "if you still want me to warm your bed, and if you still want to hear my honey sweet voice, I don't want to keep hearing about you sliding your little dragon in and out of other women."

"It's not THAT little," Daemons scoffs. "You know what I mean, Daemon," you say. "Very well," the prince nods, placing a kiss on your wrist, "you have my word." "You promise?" "On the Light of the Seven."

"Good," you nod in approval, "that's...that's all I wanted." 

"Now," Daemon says, arms starting to wrap around you, "how about I make it up to you even more?"

"What do you mean?" you ask.

Smirking, Daemon lifts you up and places you on the table. He gets on his knees and lifts up your skirts, diving head first between your thighs.

You were planning on fighting him off, still mad about his little illicit tryst, but such thoughts faded away the moment you felt him working his tongue on your sensitive rose bud.

You would enjoy this for now, but you had no plans on returning the favor once he was done. At least for now.

If the Prince wanted to that, he would have to work for it.

Which in this case would mean him winning the tourney tomorrow. 

Chapter 5

Masterlist

[calvinandhobbes]

ON MEMOIR

“The act of making something from what is already there always involves a simultaneous creation and destruction....  Even what seems like the purest, most self-contained type of creativity -- turning the events, images, and ideas of one's life into a written story --is a destroyer.”

Lisa Knopp, The Nature of Home: A Lexicon and Essays

“Truth for anyone is a very complex thing. For a writer, what you leave out says as much as those things you include. What lies beyond the margin of the text? The photographer frames the shot; writers frame their world.”

Jeanette Winterson, Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal?

“I have never liked the memoir form because I tend to think that memory fictionalizes anyway. Once you claim that you are writing a narrative purely from memory, you are already in the realm of fiction.”

Francisco Goldman

“I tell aspiring memoirists, if you're the kind of person who can't apologize, who digs in, trusts only the first impulse, then this won't be your form. The convenient sound bites into which I store my sense of self are rarely accurate -- whose are? They have to be unpacked and pecked at warily, with unalloyed suspicion. You must testify and recant, type and delete.”

Mary Karr, New York Times Op-Ed page (01/15/2006)

Lidia Yuknavitch, The Chronology Of Water: A Memoir

“The French word from which the English “memoir” derives reflects this transformation. Mémoire, meaning “memory,” is feminine; mémoire, meaning “memoir,” is masculine. It is a change of gender, in French called genre. Truth belongs to one genre; recalled truth to another. But that does not make truth recalled a lie: It makes it a fiction in the Latin sense — of a thing fashioned — that Hadrian would have recognized. A memoir is a shape given to the chaos of a life.

Every event, and certainly every event worth writing about, will always remain tattooed on our neurons. So it is never too early to start giving those events, which are our lives, a form. It is a homage we pay ourselves. More solid than a memory, a memoir will outlast it, because until a memory is put into words, it remains mist, never shore.”

Benjamin Moser

“I don't know where the idea originated that memoir writing is cathartic. For me, it's always felt like playing my own neurosurgeon, sans anesthesia.”

Koren Zailckas

“Autobiographical storytelling can take personal experience back from silence, shame, fear, or oblivion. It says, ‘I cherish this,’ or, ‘This haunts me.’ It asserts the significance of events in one’s life: ‘This happened to me.’ ‘I did this.’ ‘This is part of who I am.’ ‘This should not or will not disappear, and I act to preserve it by turning it to words and shaping them as story.’”

Gregory Orr, Poetry as Survival

[wh0refornikolailantsov]

Prompt:

'When I thought you'd died—'

'Don't say it.'

'No, I have to tell you. It was the first time—even after all these years of expecting my own death—that I truly knew what it meant to die. Because with you gone… there was nothing left for me to live for.'

Song: No Choir - Florence + The Machine

For Tolya x Reader please!!

Without You - Tolya Yul Bataar

Content Warnings: Canon Compliant Threat And Violence. No Beta/Proof Reading. Explicit Language.

There was nothing but cold, nothing but dark, you hadn't exactly pictured The Fold to be any other way, but you'd also never imagined yourself inside it. You can't tell which way is what. You'd never wanted to be in this fight, you'd hoped you could just avoid it forever, that was your plan. But the best laid plans...

Tolya's voice had carried over the market stalls. You'd been looking for some herb you were low on, more looking for a reason to be out and about, keeping your mind busy with tasks. You can't remember now what you'd been so desperate to not think about, whatever it was it felt small now, and so far away.

Tolya had been recalling poetry from memory. It had been a verse from the Song of the Stag: "Let the hounds give chase, I don't fear death because I command it."

And that had been enough. You knew it would've sounded crazy saying it then, that even at that moment, when you first saw him across the crowds of people, you would've willingly followed him anywhere. But you would've. Instantly.

You in return started to recant poetry you knew, not loudly, not calling out into the crowd, but he had heard you, he turned towards you at the name "Kregi," and when his eyes had met yours for the very first time the smile that broke on his lips would've kept you frozen in time had he let it.

You were not one to believe in such fairy tales as love at first sight, but you were sure even then you would love him, if you didn't already.

You were right.

"Long may the night carry our souls until the dawn renews us," you tell yourself, as if it were a map to guide you home, to guide you back to him. Though, he and home are the same thing in the end.

Tolya had not wanted you here, he had asked you to stay and as much as you had wanted to, the safety, the security, the warm holding you back, to land, to the places in which the sunshine can reach. The pull of staying with him had been stronger. You would not stay if he had to leave, and he had to leave.

"I will not lose you," he had said.

"So you won't," you had insisted.

That felt childish now. A promise that you hadn't been able to make, that you doubted you could keep. You were not made for the fight, but you were not going to let Tolya leave you behind. And now instead, it might be you leaving him behind, and that burned a shearing pain into your chest. The fear of losing him had overridden all your fear of being lost, and you had imagined that specific pain in such clarity that it had gotten you to follow a mission that sent you into The Fold. Tolya had let you, not because he wanted to, by the Saint's he wanted you to stay safe, but he understood. He always understood. He knew he could not make you stay, just as you could not make him stay. You hadn't asked him, you hadn't wanted to watch him try to explain his loyalty, and the reasons he couldn't stay. His loyalty and his dedication were some of the things you loved about him, and you'd never expect him to stay from a fight because you asked him to.

You feel a tight grip on your shoulder and you feel the air being pulled from your lungs like it never belonged there, every nerve in your body is suddenly alight with this fear, this knowing fear. This is how you die.

You'd expected the grip to be sharper, more painful, you'd expected blood and the kind of agony that would tear a scream from depths you didn't think you had, but the grip is firm, but soft.

"Thank Saints," comes Tamar's voice. "You're okay, insane, but okay."

"I'm insane?" You ask as Tamar shoves one of her axes in your hand. "You're the one who literally jumped ship."

"I said I was a fighter, I never said I thought that far ahead," Tamar says. You knew that wasn't what it was about, Tamar had seen a Volcra grab a member of the crew and drag them off the side of the ship, she and Tolya followed quickly, and without thinking so had you. You'd gotten lost in the darkness almost immediately, and your common sense had flooded back into your body and called you a fucking idiot, which you admittedly deserved.

"I'm glad you're okay," you tell her, as she keeps her hand wrapped tight around your wrist, running through the darkness.

"We can hug about it later," Tamar says, "but I think Tolya might be first in line."

"Where is he?" you ask.

"He was looking for you."

"That's-," There's a screech so loud and so close you think your ears might bleed.

"Maybe now isn't the time," Tamar points out, "but we are nearly," she doesn't quite finish before the darkness around the two of you simply ceases, the change in density from the fog of The Fold makes you stumble as you reach the end. The light so bright you are temporarily blinded. Tamar keeps you steady as she catches her breath.

"I didn't think we were all going to make it out of that one," Sturmhond admits, leaning over the edge of the Hummingbird, now once again reunited with the Volkvolny. He grins down at the both of you, and that fox-like smirk is still not quite enough to stop you wanting to land a punch on him. "Good to see you both again."

"I am never doing that again," comes another voice that you cannot see. Tamar gives you a small smile before pulling her axe back from your hands.

"I don't know, a little danger, a little fun," she is trying to make you feel better, and maybe it would be working, if you could register what you were feeling. But nothing feels real, nothing feels... right.

Two large arms engulf you in a tight hug and just like that you're back in your body. "Tolya," you say, leaning back into the hug with all the force you can muster. "I am so glad you're okay."

"When I thought you'd died—" He turns you on your heels, looking down at you, and you've never seen such fear and relief in those shining eyes of his.

"Don't say it."

"No, I have to tell you. It was the first time—even after all these years of expecting my own death—that I truly knew what it meant to die. Because with you gone… there was nothing left for me to live for."

Tamar throws a small rock at him, but gives you a wink and pulls her way back up onto the Volkvolny. You're not sure what to say, your heart is in your throat and you still can't steady your breathing.

"Tolya," you manage in a half gasp. "I am so sorry."

"I have known loss," Tolya says, "but you are a loss I can never know."

"So you won't," you say. And the promise echoes. It's a promise that you know you should not make, a promise you do not know how to begin to keep. As he is a loss you cannot know, as well. But by the Saints, by the chances of fate and everything you know to be true, you will do everything you can to make sure he never has to lose you. "I promise."

[granills]

Ice around Fire - Daemon Targaryen x Stark!reader

5. Dragon in the North

Tempestuous drinking cascaded through the rest of the afternoon after Aegon's birthday celebrations - a new born son of King Viserys II. Some of the guests drinking to celebrate the newborn heir, and others drinking to indulge for the moment being. Few words spoken between the Queen and the King once in each other's presence while drinking wine. All drinks filled up readily as fast as it ran out. You assumed that the deep depths of the castle were soaked in with drinkables.

That thought wasn't until much later in the evening when you excused yourself after a long feast paired with assorted bottles. Walking down the adorned corridor, you let your mind wander about the North. Truly, King's Landing could overshadow anyone's heart by its warm weather, ripe fruits throughout the year, honeyed words and promises, but you couldn't deny the feeling inside. You missed home.

The prolonged trip to King's Landing was coming to an end. The conversation with your mother a few days ago confirmed it, leaving you with anticipation and the urge to start packing your things already.

Alone in the quiet of the crackling fire, you stood on the balcony and looked down at the garden you'd walked so many times in before. Thrumming delicate fingertips over the smooth used wood you stirred in silence for moments longer than you recalled. Memories of a month old washed over you like the waves of the Narrow sea. You should have known that riding a dragon wouldn't have ended good - by the time you landed in Dragonstone, you felt sick. If it wasn't for Daemon, you would throw up on the dragon. Daemon. He disappeared not long after to the Stepstones. The rumors were that he drove the forces and was fighting with Caraxes by his side against the Crabfeeder.

Looking back up at the long door you were sure no one was coming back in any hurry. Taking the moment you stepped away from the balcony and slipped out of the corridor into another. Your choice of destination was predictable. Mulling your way back to the Great Hall. Not even a fire roaring in the hearth as every inch of the room was cold even to look at.

With slow steps to the throne, you looked the room up and down. Reaching the bladed chair you turned around to see how the room looked like from such perspective, how Kings saw the world from this point. You stood straight and hooked your finger at the side of your pale cream dress holding your dagger and turned around flipping the dagger against the warm skin of the neck.

"I knew I would find you here." A silver haired man spoke in low voice in front of you.

You exhaled slowly. "You should have learnt by now not to sneak up on me."

"If it takes me to see you, I will do this again." Daemon confessed as you fussed more.

"What makes you think that I won't leave another scar on you?"

"You can mark me as much as you like." What sounded like a blurt when Daemon's words made it to your ears, you snapped to him expecting to have heard him wrong or a taunting sneer be etched on his face. But he looked at you unflinching or recanting his words.

Fighting some of the fog in your mind from the mead, you did not speak right away. Instead you moved the dagger away. Hiding it under your dress.

"I brought you something." Daemon's lips smiled a little wider.

Eyes heeding back in his direction you strained not to fall for the dragon's infectious smile. But he caught your interest, it could be told by the way how you stood straight when he retrieved something from his pocket.

"Do you know what this is?" A deep metal gleam caught your eyes revealing a necklace with a ruby on the pendant hidden under the fabric.

You knew what it was. It was forged with dragon-fire and infused with magical spells. And it was incredibly resistant to damage from normal fire.

"A valyrian steel?" You touched the surface of it feeling the cold metal with fingertips.

Daemon abruptly snatched it from your hands making you look up at him.

"Smart woman." He stated, "Turn around."

You turned around, keeping your hair out of the way for him. Taking it a sign to proceed, he moved closer putting the necklace around your neck, fingertips barely touching against your skin as he clasped it together.

"Now you have part of my ancestry with you." He moved his fingers over the necklace and not so accidentally over the back of your neck.

Looking down at his broad hand placed on your shoulder, you were wary to move. Until making up your mind and discreetly letting your hand lay on top of his, "I am to return to Winterfell." Fingers brushing over his as the vivid memory played in your mind, "Is it a parting gift, dragon?"

Daemon's lilac eyes pictured in brief what it would be like for him if you left. Your recollection leaving a bitter taste in dragon's mouth as Daemon watched the contrast of moonlight on your skin all down to your gown.

"Return?" He looked over at you. Your features sharp in such contrast to during the day when he could see your face. "Then I shall follow you."

"You would be the worst travelling companion." You scoffed at his daffy proposal, still looking up at him through your eyelashes, back to him, from your right.

"I fail to see where I'm the dead weight in this."

Not partaking in his sudden words but it still causing heat to crawl up on your cheeks. Making it even more unexpected for you, Daemon's tender touch turned your cheek back to him.

You did not resist though. Effortless to meet Daemon with matched affection as you leaned in. Him cupping your cheek in his gentle palm.

Abruptly a loud sound alarmed you as someone bursted into the room. Taking you both in surprise none other than Lord Stark stepped into the room.

"Outrageous..." He hissed. "Outrageous!"

"Father!" You called in surprise removing Daemon's hand from your face, your eyes laid on the tall figure looming in the doorway.

"Stand behind me, I will talk to you later." Your father said, taking another step into the room.

Ticked by the posed request, you felt Daemon's attentive gaze when you walked to stand behind Lord Stark. A slight tighten in your lips and you glanced over at Daemon who refrained from any words. Like staring down the muzzle of a pit fighting wolf, you worried your moment of weakness was to blame tending the Targaryen. If you had just stayed focused, ignored your emotions, executed your plan like you wanted.

"I will not care if you are the King's brother, you desecrated my daughter." Lord Stark's sharp voice barely loud but grating like always.

"I ask your daughter to be my wife." Daemon cut him off without hesitation.

Awe struck at what Daemon was proposing, you weren't sure you had a sly reply to berate his words like you normally would with what the man said.

Glaring harshly at Daemon, beaming with anger, his weary expression turning right into an irked scowl as he answered. "Not when you already have one!"

A breath of fresh air to be away from the toxicity in the Great Hall. Starring down at your hands, you stood quietly with marginal questions until you realized you were more ready to talk.

[redundant2]

Thursday must be tea day

From SecondhandCoke on Reddit who allegedly has a relative who is connected to Netflix:

"Okay I have some tea. This is all gossip, but it makes other rumors make sense, AND it feeds into something that everyone is pretty sure is Meghan is trying to make happen.

So allegedly, Meghan is not invited and will not be attending the coronation. I still hear mixed reports about Harry.

Remember the reconciliation meetings with the Royal Family that were rumored? That was Sussex Spin on the fact that PaPaChuck3 has called for an audience with Harry. It's NOT, though, as they'd like us to think, some kind of reconciliation and apology. Meghan is not invited. If she comes she will not be given audience. The children will always be given audience, but she will never be given the honor of another personal audience with the King ever again in her life.

Anyway, Chuck summoned Harry to talk about whether or not Harry would have a role in the coronation and the fact that obviously his ceremonial role to swear fealty to the crown has been undermined by the book, the Netflix show, the book tour interviews, et al. I heard from my source in LA (because Meghan is a fucking sieve and keeps nothing private), that the King has said that the Royal Family will not be apologizing for anything, not now, not ever, and certainly not publicly. On the contrary Harry would have to publicly apologize and recant the litany of irrefutable lies to play the small ducal role played by the peerage in the coronation ceremony....

Now here's the thing: my source texted this to me today....

Source: Check IMDB about the coronation. Then check MM unforgiven.

Me: What in the fuck is this?

........Here is the condensed version of what the fuck a lot of people think this is. Again this is rumor, but it's compelling rumor:

Charles has refused to apologize for anything. On the contrary he has demanded that Harry publicly recant and apologize. He isn't even asking for Meghan to because she won't and even if she did, she'd never have access to the family again anyway.

This is the provocation for Meghan's latest tell-all "Unforgiven." It's a documentary short telling "Meghan's story..." again... probably a new one. To my knowledge, a network hasn't picked it up yet.

On the actual Coronation IMDB, only Archie and Lily are listed. This makes me wonder three things:

Are Merchie and Lilibucks on there just because Meghan added them herself? Seems like the palace would keep their IMBD locked down so Boaty McBoatface doesn't end up on there (and Boaty SHOULD be on there.) Sinners who've been watching IMDB, have the Marklets always been listed? Have Ginge and Cringe ever been listed and taken down? Anyway maybe the Sussexlets have been added without any proper permission.

Why is Prince Harry neither on the Coronation nor Unforgiven? Is he on the verge on apology to his family? Is that why his children are listed on IMDB but not him. He hasn't decided?

Unforgiven is said to be coming out on January 23 (or in January of 2023). That's fast. Is that what she's been doing? No network looks poised to air it. What's she going to do, upload it to Insta or YouTube? Will it tell new lies about palace racism, like that Meghan was forced to dress as a maid? MOST importantly, why is this coming out so fast? Is it because Harry is going to apologize and she wants to get out on front, say he is being coerced and that the mistreatment has made his abuse and addiction issues "almost unsurvivable" and so she is announcing their DIVORCE? Is it coming out so fast because she wants to drop a load of mud about the palace because they are getting ready to drop their dossier on her?

I don't know, but I know this: narcissists are like toddlers and when toddlers are quiet, they are getting ready to create a huge mess. Meghan's a narc who's been too quiet for too long. What kind of mess can we next expect?"

[honorhearted]

"he's out. won't be back till dinner... do you want to wait?" from molly to beyn in that alt pre-w.ar verse we talked about

@retrograderesemblance

A chill of dread ran down Benjamin's spine, stark and sickly-sweet, at the realization that it would be cowardly, wrong, unkind to recant his visit.

"Um..." Clearing his throat, he peered over her shoulder at the neighboring wall, almost as if the hewn wood held all the answers. Brow furrowing, Benjamin drew a breath before nodding. "I could wait," he allowed. "Selah wanted me to pick out some scripture for...for..." the f.uneral.

Unable to bring the words to fruition, he exhaled and barreled into the house, his shoulder nearly clipping Molly amidst his rattled disposition. Many years prior, it had been Molly and Selah who comforted him -- could he truly do the same, he wondered, now that his neighbors were plagued with that all too familiar grief?

Keeping his back facing his h.ostess, Benjamin kept his eyes focused on something, anything other than the young woman behind him. He was on leave from s.chool, if only for a short while. The moment Selah informed him of his loss, he'd felt it his duty to return, only... He winced. Benjamin never thought it would be her he'd need to face.

"How have you been?" he lowly asked.

Small talk had never been their thing -- nothing was ever truly polite between them -- and yet in this instance, Benjamin believed he should make the effort.

[thefallenangelsgang]

FALLOUT 4 HEADCANON MASTERPOST

two and a half years ago (👀) I posted a list of headcanons right around when I started playing around with the ideas in my fallout WIP

I've decided they ( 1 + 2 ) need to be updated and added to especially after Death Shroud gave me so many great ideas/things I want to steal. Added break to save you dash my loves <3

I will keep adding to this lmao

SECTIONS:

Post #1 Revisions

Post #2 Revisions

Death Shroud Stuff I'm Kidnapping

Misc Stuff From Asks, Mods, and My Brain (AKA THE LONGEST SECTION)

From #1 (Link Here)

We are keeping chair bound Murphy

I may or may not be recanting my gangly tall 'n thin Hancock HC. I oscillate wildly between wanting him to be Eldritch God™ tall and "gimme uppies! :3" short. He may end up being both. His height will be whatever is funniest for the bit.

oh yeah Sarah Lyons got merc-ed B)

We are still kicking with Kellogg in Nicky's skull but with the added angsty-ness brought in by Death Shroud. Oh the plot! Oh how it hurts so good! Kellogg wanting to find someway to punish the SoleSu(s) and Nick for picking through his memories? Ugh! Give me it all.

We are cutting Billy and the Fridge. I don't want to deal with the nightmare plot holes it will bring up and Quincy will already have enough BS. Plus the more I think about it the less I like the whole quest and its placement. Fuck! Maybe he'll be referenced in Publick Occurrences? I don't care! We're loosey goosey bay-be!

- 10. can stay. I have no issues with them and nothing funny to add

From #2 (Link Here)

Now I can bring up my beloved Vault-Tec Rep. Him in the Death Shroud? Perfect. Beautiful. Stunning. I no longer have to call him Paul Eiding as a very direct nod to his VO. Our Beloved David Dwecker is married to Sheffield and they have a house in Sanctuary filled with Nuka-Cola memorabilia (for Sheffield) and collectable plates (the kind grandmothers display for our lovely Rep). They have a little sitting area set up in the carport where they hangout, smoke, and dance together to Diamond City Radio. I need this for my mental health okay?

Shaun being Autistic is something I really want to explore. I truly forget who I first saw say this but it is not an original idea by any means. I also think the poor thing would have some level of trauma from everything so exploring that is gonna be fun! (no it will not oh my god I'm going to dredge up all my childhood issues.)

OHHHH CHRISTMAS. YULETIDE. FEAST OF ST. NICHOLAS. I find the "Seth Patrick" bit SO funny in Death Shroud so that is staying but also I feel like the feast of St. Nicholas got jokingly flipped into a celebration of Nick Valentine (Same with Valentine's Day) and people are beginning to forget the correct version. Nick tolerates it with an eye roll and a wry joke about people needing to read their history books but secretly finds the whole thing funny. Ellie has a santa suit for Nick to don during "his" holiday. Also the school children in Diamond City send Nick "Valentines" on valentines day and he displays them on his corkboard.

Music. My god the Johnny Guitar bit had me by the throat during Death Shroud. Expand those music libraries! Before you know it I'm gonna give Travis a rolling ladder attached to bookcases upon bookcases of records and holotapes. I want to hear people complain about how many Andrews Sisters records survived and God why won't Travis stop playing them!

The Flavor of Goodneighbor needs to be so complex. Like a good pasta sauce. I better be so overcome by the layers and smells and textures. Better Goodneighbor and Better Third Rail are really good starts but I'm expanding the shit out of both of them I think. I want to feel like Goodneighbor truly is dangerous to be in. Being able to cross most of the town in one sprint burst isn't cutting it Bethany Esda! Make it truly baffling how Hancock knows so much about the happenings in his town.

- 8. are about the BoS and I stand by them. You will get to meet my Lone Wanderer and learn about the hierarchies a little better. I redesigned the Orders and added one I think? I have to re-sort those notes lmao. Also the piloting thing is like MAJORLY important to me because the frequency of vertibird crashes in game pissed me off to no end.

From Death Shroud (@chadfallout76podcast THANK YOU)

Danse is just... Like That now. I can't wait to explore his character before and after Blind Betrayal especially because he will not be leaving the Brotherhood and he will still be Like That. [spoiler warning ;) for my story lol] I can't wait for the beautiful moments that will be born of it.

I actually kind of love some of the plot points in Death Shroud like the Mob Family wars? Staying 100%. Same with Ma and Boss Lombardo and some of the other families.

As is Charlie but I refuse to let him die. I got very attached to Charlie and his death was so perfect but this time he gets to stay alive dammit.

Magnolia sending Magnolia flowers with her letters? Genius

Vault-Tec Rep (David my beloved) being the saddest, wettest cat of a man imaginable when he's in Goodneighbor? Also fucking genius.

"Fish-lips" Malone being part of the same family as Skinny has me so excited for more mob family bullshit.

Ruffino's and the Black Rose is being transplanted somewhere and maybe might be near the Combat Zone. New den of sin anyone?

Obviously I'm not going to attempt to pull apart the fabric of reality in-canon but my god Death Shroud was fun <3

Some new Misc HCs

Diamond City is bigger and more populated, kind of in the same vein as the Goodneighbor HC. I haven't found a mod layout I like so I might end up redesigning it (Please kill me)

This is an old one from an ask! Hancock will help work the bar at the Third Rail occasionally. He's a notorious show off and his cocktails are mainly just straight liquor but he entertains the hell out of people when he dives over the bar to take orders and bother Whitechapel Charlie. There are major losses on nights he bartends due to the fact he forgets (sometimes purposefully) to take payment. Regulars know to put the cash in the tip jar so Whitechapel can collect it at the end of the night.

Another thing I'm keeping from an ancient ask, Danse wants kids. Badly. And the crushing blow of being sterile really fucks with him for a while. but he eventually comes to terms with it. He's also still touchy (as in he's always touching his partner) per that ask because I think that's cute.

I'm just going through old asks now lmao. Nick and Ellie dance together like the true father-daughter pair they are

I forgot who drew this but I once saw someone pair Sturges and Ellie together and that is the cutest damn thing so it stays.

MacReady got the Lone Wanderer's Grognak magazine as a gift for letting them into Little Lamplight and it's one of his prized possessions.

Macready and the Lone Wanderer's reunion is very cute my dudes.

More general slice of life stuff like fishing on the mainland and boats, more things to do in general, transportation, cool amputees, and other shit listed in this post I reblogged YEARS ago

OH Travis and Scarlett get married <3

Danny Sullivan skips town after taking the fun way down from the mayor's office and travels with some cross country caravans before coming back to work in Diamond City. YES HE LIVES!

Holy fuck i forgot I had this mod but the Institute projects the sky up on their ugly concrete dome because this mod fucks hard

Just the general vibe of raiders employing children and stringing more dead mutilated bodies about. There are mods for that and let me tell you they make the raider camps horrifying. No I will not be linking them. But they are available on Nexus should you want them.

Okay I'm changing the layout of everything apparently: Including but not limited to the Railroad HQ, The Prydwen, Vault 111, etc. Fuck game design I guess lmao. I like XFreakish's Railroad Redone and NordKitten's A Sensible Prydwen Overhaul for in game and basically plan to build off of them.

The asks: Hancock bartending, Danse wanting kids and being into physical affection, Nick and Ellie Dancing + MacReady and the LW's Grognak (same ask)

[houseofbrat]

Hi:

https://www.reddit.com/r/SaintMeghanMarkle/ comments/10gf8ma/could_this_all_be_preemptive/ j52q7fj/

Thoughts?

https://www.reddit.com/r/SaintMeghanMarkle/comments/10gf8ma/could_this_all_be_preemptive/

More importantly, this is some of the gossip roaming around Hollywood:

Okay I have some tea.  This is all gossip, but it makes other rumors make sense, AND it feeds into something that everyone is pretty sure is Meghan is trying to make happen.

So allegedly, Meghan is not invited and will not be attending the coronation. I still hear mixed reports about Harry.

Remember the reconciliation meetings with the Royal Family that were rumored? That was Sussex Spin on the fact that PaPaChuck3 has called for an audience with Harry. It's NOT, though, as they'd like us to think, some kind of reconciliation and apology. Meghan is not invited. If she comes she will not be given audience. The children will always be given audience, but she will never be given the honor of another personal audience with the King ever again in her life.

Anyway, Chuck summoned Harry to talk about whether or not Harry would have a role in the coronation and the fact that obviously his ceremonial role to swear fealty to the crown has been undermined by the book, the Netflix show, the book tour interviews, et al.  I heard from my source in LA (because Meghan is a fucking sieve and keeps nothing private), that the King has said that the Royal Family will not be apologizing for anything, not now, not ever, and certainly not publicly. On the contrary Harry would have to publicly apologize and recant the litany of irrefutable lies to play the small ducal role played by the peerage in the coronation ceremony....

Now here's the thing: my source texted this to me today....

Source: Check IMDB about the coronation. Then check MM unforgiven.

Me:  What in the fuck is this?

........Here is the condensed version of what the fuck a lot of people think this is. Again this is rumor, but it's compelling rumor:

Charles has refused to apologize for anything. On the contrary he has demanded that Harry publicly recant and apologize. He isn't even asking for Meghan to because she won't and even if she did, she'd never have access to the family again anyway.

This is the provocation for Meghan's latest tell-all "Unforgiven." It's a documentary short telling "Meghan's story..." again... probably a new one. To my knowledge, a network hasn't picked it up yet.

On the actual Coronation IMDB, only Archie and Lily are listed. This makes me wonder three things:

Are Merchie and Lilibucks on there just because Meghan added them herself? Seems like the palace would keep their IMBD locked down so Boaty McBoatface doesn't end up on there (and Boaty SHOULD be on there.) Sinners who've been watching IMDB, have the Marklets always been listed? Have Ginge and Cringe ever been listed and taken down? Anyway maybe the Sussexlets have been added without any proper permission.

Why is Prince Harry neither on the Coronation nor Unforgiven? Is he on the verge on apology to his family? Is that why his children are listed on IMDB but not him.  He hasn't decided?

Unforgiven is said to be coming out on January 23 (or in January of 2023).  That's fast. Is that what she's been doing? No network looks poised to air it. What's she going to do, upload it to Insta or YouTube? Will it tell new lies about palace racism, like that Meghan was forced to dress as a maid? MOST importantly, why is this coming out so fast? Is it because Harry is going to apologize and she wants to get out on front, say he is being coerced and that the mistreatment has made his abuse and addiction issues "almost unsurvivable" and so she is announcing their DIVORCE?  Is it coming out so fast because she wants to drop a load of mud about the palace because they are getting ready to drop their dossier on her?

I don't know, but I know this: narcissists are like toddlers and when toddlers are quiet, they are getting ready to create a huge mess. Meghan's a narc who's been too quiet for too long. What kind of mess can we next expect?

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Gee, perhaps Meghan IS getting ready to announce she’s divorcing Harry. 

[dangertoozmanykids101]

TOOZ WRITING PROMPT

Hey y'all! I have got a great fun prompt for you today! You won't believe what I found! Now although the inspiration involves a video of a super young Chris Evans, any muse can be the star or participate. ALWAYS! Because this is just a prompt - you're the writer in control. And I'm dying to find out what y'all come up with. So guess what—

TOOZ FOUND A TREASURE !

How the hell are there still things out there I haven't discovered yet? Am I the only one who didn't know anything about this?

Baby Chris Evans is teaching us about Biodiversity: Wild About Life.

He's just a baby! So young. What a little cutie!

Now for...TOOZ WRITING PROMPT

One or more of our collective muses has been asked to make a documentary or Public Service Announcement (PSA) to raise the public's awareness about something specific, something important, something ridiculous, something imminent, dangerous, horrifying, apocalyptic, something that turns out to be catastrophic, something that fizzles out, something that is a hoax or conspiracy, something that is manipulative or oppressive.

Did I mention something ridiculous?

We SHOULD each challenge ourselves to write a serious one AND a ridiculous one - a ridiculous cause that is taken seriously, of course. You know, a crack fic: a story that the author must've been on crack to come up with such a wack-a-doodle idea.

Disclaimer: I AM NOT SUGGESTING NOR CONDONING THAT WE ALL SMOKE CRACK IN ORDER TO WRITE A CRACK FIC! It's just a figure of speech. Come on, right?

Ohh but imagine if our muse fucks up the PSA or documentary up so badly that they have to go back on the air and recant parts of it, if not the entire thing.

This could be the most important thing they've ever done or said. The most important fight they ever signed up for. Their message may successfully change the world, or save it.

Or maybe their message was completely wrong - the wrong information, the wrong choice, the wrong course of action. (Is it too late to save the world, or stop the broadcast?)

This could be absolutely humiliating. It could ruin their reputation and any future career. And say goodbye to any chance of a proper private life after this. Will the public even notice or care?

The Captain America PSAs always send me into giggles. I've included several video links. I'm dying to find out what y'all think? If any of you have more ideas. SQUEAL!

Of course, it's adorable when Sam & Bucky argue about Steve's PSAs.

And I couldn't help adding a couple more.

These aren't all necessarily PSAs, but just inspiration. Especially seeing our muses with kids makes me swoon.

I ran out of room for videos.

If anyone has more inspirational videos, please share!

This post got accidentally posted almost two weeks ago before I had actually finished it. Yikes! I wonder how often I did that?

@nildespirandum @ladyoftheteaandblood @caffiend-queen @redfoxwritesstuff @nonsensicalobsessions @talklokitome @latent-thoughts @alexakeyloveloki @devikafernando @deceitfuldevout @so-easy-to-love-me @wolfsmom1 @gigglingtiggerv2 @americasass81 @acidcasualties @muddyorbs @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @spectre-posts