#if he weren't having a literal life or death moment with that plane he would be getting off on what he's doing

[academicgangster]

"petting planes like dogs" ma'am, that's a whole-ass planefucker stroking a plane like she's a LADY.

[youcouldmakealife]

SOTM: Erin/Julius; cosmic vertigo

For the prompt: More Erin and Julius understanding each other on a deep level

“Have you ever thought about the universe?” Julius says.

“I get a headache whenever I do, so I mostly try to avoid it,” Erin says, then, feeling Julius’ eyes on her, “Yeah, I guess. You’ve got to narrow it down a little from ‘literally everything in existence’ for me to figure out what you're getting at, though.”

“How things — change, I guess,” Julius says. “How if something went just a little differently, your life could be completely different too.”

“So like alternate universes,” Erin says, relieved. That’s much less likely to give her a headache. Not unlikely, but thinking about what, exactly, exists past forever? What a constantly expanding universe is expanding into? The last time Erin let herself think about it too long she ended up with a migraine. Possibly a coincidence, but she’s not risking it. That thing lasted two days.

“Yes,” Julius says. “If I was drafted one pick higher, or lower, I would never have come to Edmonton.”

“And you wouldn’t have met Jared, and therefore me, and neither of us would be lying in this bed right now talking about the universe,” Erin says. “Something like that?”

“Something like that,” Julius echoes, then gazes at her for a long moment, not speaking.

“Stop measuring how good a consolation prize I am,” Erin says. Doesn’t matter how great he thinks she is: nobody’s great enough to make up for the pain and suffering of playing for the Edmonton Oilers.

Julius’ mouth quirks, like she’s said it out loud.

“You’re alright,” he says.

“Thanks,” Erin says. “I do my best.”

“Worth coming here,” Julius says.

“Let’s not get too crazy here,” Erin says.

Under the covers, Julius finds where she’s laced her hands on her stomach and prises the nearest away so he can lace his own fingers through it, that hand thief. She likes to sleep like she’s in a coffin and he knows that. Still, she supposes she can lend it to him for a little while.

“Feeling philosophical tonight, are we?” Erin asks.

She doesn’t have to ask why: he’s going back to Finland in two days. Only for a month, before he flies back to Alberta to train with Jared and his buds in Calgary. She doesn’t have to ask why for that either. Dude isn’t going to train in a city he’s never even lived in, a city that hates his guts, just because he misses her brother, though she’s sure Jared would argue otherwise. She won’t make him say it.

“I can come,” Erin says. “If you want me to. I can come.”

Julius blows out a breath. “Next time,” he says.

“Sure,” Erin says. “It’s not — it doesn’t expire or anything. Standing offer. I mean, unless I have something else going on. Then you’re shit out of luck.”

“I will make sure your schedule is clear,” Julius says.

“Thanks,” Erin says. “Thoughtful of you.”

“Would you like your hand back?” Julius says. Erin doesn’t think she’s imagining the reluctance. A month’s not really a long time if the universe is your scale, but if it isn’t, well. It’s long enough.

“That’s okay,” Erin says. “You can have it a bit longer.”

*

So the thing is, when Erin told Julius she’d go to Finland with him, well — it isn’t that she didn’t mean it, because she did, it’s just that she sort of figured that at some point between her saying that and him taking her up on it, she might just spontaneously get past her fear of flying.

Except, fear is such a strong word, isn’t it? She’s fine. She’s been on planes without dying. She even hopped on a plane to see the Canucks host the Oilers — would someone with a lifelong fear of planes do that?

And yeah, sure, it was only ninety minutes, and by the time she quit telling herself that they probably weren't all going to die — but if they did, they better not fuck up and identify her as Bryce’s girlfriend in all the death announcements — they’d pretty much already begun the descent.

Then, once she was done a new recital of how they probably weren't to die — at least they’d better not, because Bryce would feel so guilty about inviting her — they were taxiing to the gate.

And while, like, statistically, that was one of the most dangerous times, like how parking lots and the kilometre around your house are the places you’re most likely to get into an accident, it’s hard to work up the same panic when you’re like, twenty feet in the air instead of twenty thousand.

The flight back wasn’t too bad either, and by the end of the trip, she thought she might have even gotten over that whole fear of flying thing.

She was incorrect.

The thing is, she actually did okay on the flight to Toronto. It helped that it was first thing in the morning, and apparently sleepiness beats out panic, a fact she’s going to be taking advantage of in the future. She genuinely thought she'd reached the other side of it, but the flight to Amsterdam has quickly proven her wrong.

Planes aren’t supposed to shake. And dip! She swears they started to drop out of the sky at one point. Julius said that it was a normal amount of turbulence, but frankly, no turbulence is normal, is it? Sure, it can be a typical amount of turbulence, but normal? They’re in a metal tube in the sky, being thrown around by wind. Erin does not consider any of that to be normal.

“You didn’t tell me you don’t like flying,” Julius says, so quietly Erin can hardly hear him over the almost deafening plane sound nobody else seems to be bothered by. Erin thinks that’s pretty big of him, considering she’s had his hand in a death grip since the turbulence began, and she hasn’t relinquished it even now that it’s finally stopped. In his shoes, she’d probably be going with ‘you know these hands make millions, right?’.

Money that means she’s flying in comfort, if not…comfort. For some reason, Erin thought it’d be easier to deal with things in business class. She doesn’t know why — in a plane crash, the front of the plane is the least likely to survive. But hey, at least Erin got free champagne.

The champagne didn’t help. She hadn’t really thought it would, but she’d been hoping.

“Oh, I don’t know if I’d say I don’t like it,” Erin says. It comes out in a voice she's never heard in her entire life, so perky it’s almost shrill.

“Something stronger?” Julius asks, looking about as disturbed by Stepford Erin as she is. She doesn’t know if he’s talking about the word she’d use or the next drink she should have, but either way the answer's probably yes.

“Do you want your hand back?” Erin asks. It’s not so much an offer as a genuine question, because she’s not sure her hand will unclench for long enough to release it, and she’d probably grab it again the next time the plane started rocking, though maybe she can figure something else out. Grab his thigh or something. It also makes him millions, but it can probably hold up to the abuse a little better.

“You can have it the entire flight if you need,” Julius says. “And for the others.”

Erin’s really, really been trying not to think about the fact there are more flights after this one. Plural.

“Might make it hard to eat,” Erin says. He has the window seat — no fucking way she wants to see just how high up they are, even though she already intellectually knows it — and she’s had custody of his right hand since take off.

“I can figure it out,” Julius says, stroking his thumb over her knuckles. It isn’t quite relaxing — nothing is, right now, not with that damn plane noise — but it’s, you know, not not relaxing, which makes it better than pretty much everything in the world at the moment. It makes Erin’s eyes prickle.

“I know it’s irrational,” Erin says. “I’m well aware of all the statistics, and that it’s safer than basically every kind of transportation. I know. It’s ridiculous. I'm being ridiculous.”

“We can drive,” Julius says. “When we get to Helsinki. We can drive instead. Or take the train.”

Erin tips her head back, trying to keep the tears from spilling. That still leaves Amsterdam to Helsinki, but one flight is better than two. “How long a drive is it?” Erin says.

“Does it matter?” Julius asks.

Erin shakes her head, and when they fall, she swipes at them with her free hand.

“We can drive,” Julius says, thumb tracing back and forth, and Erin focuses on it, the slow sweep of his skin against hers, until the flight attendant comes, asking if they’d like something to drink.

“Champagne,” Erin says. “Please.”

“Two,” Julius says, even though he didn’t even finish his first. “Please.”

“What are we celebrating?” the flight attendant chirps, and Erin stares up at her, unable to muster even a weak smile. Beside her, Julius must be pulling out the ‘dumb fucking question’ face he gives reporters, because the flight attendant says, bright and fake as Stepford Erin, “Two glasses of champagne,” then hurries on to the next seats.

“People,” Julius murmurs, and Erin slides down, twisting in her seat until she can put her head on his shoulder. Probably makes it harder than she needs to, since she refuses to give up Julius’ hand the entire time, but he doesn’t complain, just keeps up the slow sweep of his thumb, and when she finally makes herself comfortable — or, as comfortable as she can, considering the circumstances — he kisses her hair.

“Sorry about stealing your hand,” Erin says. She really hopes he doesn’t think it’s an offer to give it back, because he’ll be disappointed.

“That’s okay,” Julius says. “I don’t need it for my job or anything.”

Erin decides to hold on a little tighter, just for that.

[flingmetothemoon]

Can we talk about Sonic X TailAmy for a moment?

Disclaimer: if you disagree with me, that's fine. If you prefer Sonamy over Tailamy, go right ahead. But remember this is my opinion based on observations and research. I would appreciate it if Sonamy shippers don't try to convince me why Sonamy is such a beautiful well-written canon ship and why I'm bad for not shipping it. You wouldn't like it if I did that to you would you? Then don't do that to me ok?

So I was rewatching Sonic X for refreshment of what's happening and the context behind it and noticed something interesting in the Chaos arc I never really thought about.

Amy gets captured and becomes prisoner to Eggman just right after Tails received a massive head and arm injury from a plane crash that could easily worsen if he keeps pushing himself. Think about it, Tails could've chosen to stay at home and heal and let Sonic do all the work saving Amy by himself, especially considering Sonic is a more well-known hero than he is, his X Tornado is damaged and the Station Square City is in chaos at this time. But instead, he got into the X Tornado again, got into a dangerous battle with Eggman and LITERALLY PUSHED THROUGH ANOTHER CRASH to help Sonic save Amy all while Amy was emoing over Sonic as usual! Tails was willing to pretty much risk his life for Amy's sake! He risked his life for her so much that Sonic had to assign him to simply fly Amy back home to safety while he finishes dealing with Eggman!

How is this different from those "SonAmy moments" where Sonic saves Amy from danger himself? Because Sonic is a well-known hero with a habit of risking his life to save his friends, so saving Amy makes it not really that special since he helps his other friends in a similar manner. So if Amy is in trouble and Sonic has to help her, we know this is predictable for him for his role. Tails on the other hand is not a regular hero like Sonic and is usually shyer and more unsure of himself while Sonic likes to show himself off. And note that piloting machines is dangerous for someone his age even for a skilled pilot like him. Yet despite all this, Tails was still willing to push through a life-and-death situation to make sure his friend is safe while injured that even Sonic and Chuck worried about him forcing himself.

Another thing it is different from those "SonAmy moments" is that actions spoke louder than visual effects and feels. They weren't trying to make it romantic and they didn't feel the need to give Amy emotional issues to show she cares for Tails, yet that moment showed that Tails does love Amy enough to put her life above his own even though he is not Amy's romantic pursuit. With Sonamy, Amy was somehow felt the need to be either given obnoxious weepy melodrama or turned into a violent psycho and makes Sonic look like a jerk for not fitting into her ideal mold of how she views him and then they think they can make up for it by putting them in a pretty setting with cheesy romantic 80s anime style music in the background and Sonamy fanatics somehow eat it up, which I find unhealthy and unromantic at the end of the day.

But no, Tails can have Cosmo instead even though she's gonna have to die soon to save the universe. Whether or not their personalities and goals are compatible or the fact that they're in the middle of a space war with Cosmo's dad who's literally trying to destroy the universe doesn't matter. Let's make an episode where Vector takes advantage of Tails' feelings and tries to force them into a relationship they're not ready for simply because he was bored. Then make Tails and Cosmo accidentally fall into Amy's trap for Sonic and fall madly in love and then shortly afterwards, make Tails have to kill her for the sake of the universe and leave him emotionally unstable by the end of the show. Yeah, totally #Truelove and #RelationshipGoals! Why do Anime creators particularly seem to think that being emotionally unstable over crushes is healthy for relationships? Because a country's culture made by imperfect humans says so? When Cosmo's death tragically impacted Tails, who decided to spend time with him and cheer him up? Was it his number 1 BFF Sonic? Nope, it was Cream AND Amy. It's sad when you realize that Tails and Amy make each other more calmer and happier than their own respective crushes do...

This is it for the post today. This post is also on DeviantART if you wanna check it out there. C:

[silverefflux]

Sweaters

Chapter x + 0.5 of my König x Fem!OC fic, Rush

Fuckin chapter name. It's good as a standalone at this point LMAO

See Chapter List

Photo from Freepik

Summary: König takes a look at Kate’s closet.

C/W: MAJOR ANGST. MAJOR PLOTLINE SKIP. Established relationship, grieving, mentions of possible death, implications of violence, one pinch of racism

A/N: Chapter works fine alone, but is wayyy beyond the current position in the plotline. Sorry about the algebraic chapter number. While I still want my story in chronological order, I am mainly writing this for my enjoyment, and my mind is incapable of forcing itself to write in order right now.

As with my prior attempts to make multi-chapters in other fandoms, I can map out the whole plot almost instantly, but the writing itself of each chapter is so difficult. Enjoy (?) this sharp, angsty left turn though.

. . .

Possibility // Lykke Li

Dominik awoke lying face up, his limbs carelessly limp on their mess of a bed. It was the same position he fell asleep in. Like a corpse—hollow, lifeless—of which was the closest thing he felt like at the moment. The first thing that flooded his consciousness was a seeping ache on one side of his head. His eyelids reluctantly fluttered half-open. A boundless blur of white manifested itself into their bedroom ceiling; the same thing he last saw before his body surrendered to slumber.

Two painfully slow days have passed. Two days of tossing and turning in an untimed cycle of crying, then not crying. Not that he had a sense of time. Or a sense of being. His stomach grumbled as hunger crawled up to his throat, but no amount of food or water could answer for his soul craving his wife’s presence. No warm shower could replicate the feeling of her skin on his.

By now, the passengers’ and crew’s loved ones would have been storming Harrier Air’s headquarters for answers. He wished he had the strength to join them. He grew sick of watching the news too—it was all that everyone could talk about. There was no further lead anyway as to the plane’s whereabouts except the video that the hijacker sent to provoke the public.

“Captain down, First Officer down…”

If the shows weren't broadcasting replays of the same information, they were spewing senseless theories and tirades directed at anyone and anything. One of them pointed at Kate being “fairly new and foreign” as a possible fault. At that point, there was nothing more that Dominik wanted to do than to fling the remote control through the screen and into the commentator’s face, but instead he chose to simply turn the TV off.

He turned his head to the side and caught sight of her closet.

Her clothes are still in there. At some point I have to clean it—

Nein. Not unless they bring her body home.

A part of him wanted to believe that she was still alive. That maybe the terrorists were just exaggerating to add to their scare tactic. Or that, by some miracle, she was able to hold out for her life until rescue reached the plane. That is, if there still was a plane. Regardless, she was gone and no one knows where, and he wasn’t shying away from the possibility—the likeliness—that she wasn’t coming home and all he had left of her was her possessions.

With a grumble, he sat up and stared at the closet, then groggily paced towards it, mentally preparing himself to look at what’s inside. His fingers shakily gripped at the door handles, and the doors of the cabinet opened with a soft creak.

Her clothes were neatly kept in rows of hangers and columns of folded fabric. He ran his hands through the row of memories.

She wore this dress on our anniversary.

These were her favorite trousers to wear in-flight.

She would wear this coat over literally anything.

His hand stopped over the sleeve of a silken blouse hung in front of him. He closed his eyes as he brought the sleeve close to his face. Faint hints of Kate’s scent and her perfume immediately crept its way into him as the fabric softly rested on his cheek and nose.

For the first time in two days, he smiled.

But it was a bitter smile as a lump grew in his throat, a mere attempt to console himself over this meager replacement for human contact. When he opened his eyes, they were watering and his heart was racing, another wave of sorrow making its way. He leafed through the clothes lined up in hangers once more, this time with urgency, then slid them aside to reveal the rest of her clothes below. At the left corner, a stack of sweaters were safely folded away.

On top of the pile was her favorite—a knitted one that they bought together in Nuremberg during the holidays, already slightly worn out from being used and washed so often. If wearing it outside was deemed embarrassing, she would proudly wear it inside the house as a substitute for a t-shirt or a pajama top.

“It’s not just a Christmas sweater!” she would insist with her classic cackling laughter.

“It has Christmas tree designs, Katie. You don’t have to wear that all the time,” he would jokingly argue back.

He took the sweater out. Then the hoodie under it. Then the next one. Bunching them up together, he clutched them close to his chest and relished the small amount of comfort he found in Kate’s scent again. The wool from her favorite sweater brushed lightly at his lips as he held the clothes near, reminding him of what it was like to embrace her.

When was the last time we hugged?

After sorrow came a wave of guilt, and the joyless expression returned on his face.

I wish I gave a more proper goodbye.

I wish I had kissed her more before I left.

I wish I knew how much our fights didn’t matter.

I wish I was a better husband.

He wanted to cry, but his tears were close to running out that all he had left were the ones clinging around his lashes. That and the silent, crushing pain that felt like his demons pressing their muddy boots onto his heart and shattering it into a million pieces.

He crashed onto the pillows again, knees weakened by the agony. He rolled over to his shoulder, still desperately holding the sweaters close. If there was something Kate helped him do, it was hacking away at the walls that he put up so there was nothing but honest emotion expressed within the walls of their home. But honesty meant vulnerability, and with her gone, he was defenseless to his own grief.

Please come home.

If you really are dead, at least haunt me right now.

No tighter embrace was enough as he squeezed the sweaters even closer towards him. His head bowed into the fabrics as he winced, pleading with his own body to cry the pain out, but no tears were coming out. But there were none left. One would know they’re in a whole other level of misery when they’re begging themselves to cry for relief. All he had to grasp onto was to imagine what she would be doing if she was with him at the moment.

She would’ve snaked an arm around him and pulled herself into a cuddle, murmuring soft words of encouragement to comfort him. Her gentle hand would trace its way up his back and rest at the back of his neck, her thumb moving back and forth behind his ear.

He placed his hand where hers would’ve been.

When he opened his eyes, her face would be inches away, looking back at him. Smiling softly, wordlessly telling him things will be better, and that it’s okay for him to be this way around her.

“Damn it, Schatzi…” she would say in a long whine, “If you’re crying, I’m crying too.”

Then, still teary-eyed, they would giggle at them being absolute softies for each other behind closed doors. He would close his eyes and pull her close too, and slowly, things would become okay again.

Where are you, Kate?

Oh, how he missed those deep brown eyes of hers. He could fall into the pools of her irises, sinking into the depths of her being until the last sliver of light bid goodbye, but he wouldn’t think he was drowning. Rather, he would happily explore the mysterious abyss of her soul in that darkness.

It’s been around three months and two days since he last saw those eyes face-to-face. If only he was granted another chance to look at them again.

It’s been two days since the hijacking. There was still no sign of the plane. Its fuel could only last for so long. There were only two possibilities: that it landed somewhere undetected by radar and its navigational equipment tampered, or that it fell before it made its way to land. Dominik was afraid he knew which was more plausible.

If the plane crashed, I hope that she was unconscious or dead as it happened.

The thought of her suffering the way she did delivered the final blow to his chest as tears finally poured out again in sobs.

She didn’t have to suffer.

He knew that between the both of them, he was the one built to withstand that kind of torture. Not her. She didn’t deserve any of it. His hands clutched even more tightly at the sweaters as he cried out in torment, his mind calling out for her despite those around him convinced that she was gone, and his imagination convincing him that she was right next to him on the bed.

Es tut mir so Leid.

And the cycle starts again. He cried until he couldn’t cry anymore, tormenting himself to exhaustion until he fell back asleep.

. . .

Translation:

Es tut mir so Leid - I'm so sorry

For the algebra chapter number, the timeline skip, the spoiler, the PAIN, I am once again willing to receive a "SILVER WHAT THE FUCK" in the comments HAHAHAHAHHA love u all

[starlsssankt]

@an-endless-saga /

The land was cold and desolate, a windswept plane. It looked to hold life once long, long ago. But then that could have been a trick of the little light left there.

Jurian moved through the land, keeping an eye on the sky and on the ground. This place was the only damn outlet he'd had. A place he could visit when he "slept" until he was "killed".

Then he was dragged back to that accursed ring, back to the living horror he tried so hard to pretend didn't exist. Maybe that's why it felt like a nightmare than a reality his life had taken a turn to.

He moved through the landscape growing closer to a form on the ground. If his heart could beat here it would quicken. He moved closer toeing at it.

He pushed a bit of fabric away and inhaled sharply.

"Well, I suppose it was about time.."

--------

He moved Aleksander's form away from the windswept planes to the caves. At least his powers worked somewhat here. At least he could make a fire in whatever land this was. At least that logic worked here.

He glanced at him and swallowed.

"So what finally killed you? A beast? A fae battalion? Did - did you arrive alone?"

Is my sister still out there?

𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐃𝐍'𝐓 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐀𝐒, for all the talk of Death and its embrace, Aleksander hadn't ever really feared it. Given much thought to what happens to one's soul--however tarnished and fed upon it might be--when one dies.

But it was cold. Like ice gripped the very bones in his body, Aleksander hadn't ever felt so cold. So empty. And he was alone, as he looked around, wandering this windswept place. This desolate, empty, abandoned place.

Was this what Death was? A stretch of desolate land that wouldn't offer shelter, whose storm clouds gathered in the distance, in the dark...? He tried to bring his shadows to form, and all that appeared were mere whisps of smoke.

Hardly something capable of cutting down any enemy--

The cold finally put him to sleep, even if Aleksander couldn't really remember sitting down, laying down--falling asleep. The next thing he was consciously aware of, the scenery had changed. And he wasn't alone in the caves.

Blinking, he knew he had to be imagining things. ❝ Jurian? ❞ His voice was rough, hoarse. Throat scratched and parched, but how was he to find water here in Death? Did he even need it? Was this all a trick--?

Aleksander hadn't expected to see his old friend. It had been centuries. Literal lifetimes since he'd crossed paths with the other male. And the last he'd heard--

❝ I thought you were... I was told you weren't actually dead... ❞ The words trailed off, because Aleksander remembered himself dying. He knew this was Death. Whatever afterlife existed for a torn and tarnished soul as his was, at least. ❝ What is this place? ❞

Because he doesn't want to talk about that moment. The moment the knife tore through his defenses, the moment he'd lost and Death had finally claimed him...

But Aleksander did nod when asked if he arrived alone. ❝ Ana's not here, ❞ he said quietly, as if the very admission of it killed what was still in his heart. What still tried to live in this dark, desolate place. ❝ She's still alive-- ❞

As far as I know.

[mintytrifecta]

can i hear your pitch for a garfield series? 👀👀

OKAY SO

In Garfield's Judgement Day it's revealed that there is sort of a pet counsel of sorts, one that resolves the issues surrounding pet-kind and emergency situations involving their owners. They also seem to be against strays, what with the hurricane coming and Arlene being forced to hide in an alleyway during it. (also if you didn't know Arlene is a stray cndnns surprise)

And since nine lives are canonically reincarnation in the Garfield universe, the council to me works by descending order of who's lived the most lives and by how many centuries it spans.

Garfield is on his eighth life (canon) and his lives go back to the caveman era (also canon) so he's second in command next to the oldest one in the community, who's a black cat on his ninth. Garfield doesn't really want to be in command and is honestly really shitty at his job, usually on purpose.

Of course, Garfield could also easily take up leadership completely, given how he's escaped death twice now and managed to start a new nine-lives cycle, either by time travel or Literally Lying To God (this one's a bit more complicated cause both of those are canon but I just linked the two timelines together. Garfield's technically on his third cycle and his eight one there and without doubles he's about 21 lives in. I have a flowchart graph for this)

Recently, there's been a huge rise in strays going completely feral and attacking pets. It's weird enough as it is, but the fact that most of them have no memory of it happening is even weirder.

Garfield's put on the job to figure out what's happening and put a stop to it and he will complain every step of the way even if he's one of the only people qualified to do so given that he was a private eye in a previous life (again canon) but he doesn't wanna do it alone so he enlists the help of both Arlene and Odie. He's not technically allowed to bring Odie on the job since Odie isn't a cat but he lied to God about it and called him a cat once so he gets a pass.

Garfield's family also helps him!! They live in an abandoned restaurant and are all technically strays and if it weren't for Jon Garfield would not even be allowed in there and he's aware of how rocky his social standing is, and he knows how the feral acts would immediately be percieved as intentional, but Garfield also knows better than to believe the elitist pet's prejudices but I digreds

His mom, helpful as ever, reminds him of an old queen's tale called Primal Self.

The story says that the world's diety loved cats so much it gave them nine lives to keep living and staying on the mortal plane, but the other animals all got so jealous of them that they begged the god to curse cats with a malevolent spirit that haunts them and reverts them back to nothing but pure feral instinct and bloodlust. It haunts cats when they're at their weakest and possesses them, forcing them to attack others and remind the god and the world that cats are animals, just as the rest of them are.

It's not really the most logical lead, but at the moment that's all Garfield has to go on. (plus, it sounds really familiar to him, but he can't place from where..)

So they all go round up the ones they know started attacking and try to ask if any of them have heard of or know about primal self, but barely any of them seem to be responding. The only one that manages to say anything only muttered something about "green eyes with fur as black as the starless night"

So they're back to square one.

Until pets start going feral as well. And now nobody is safe.

The weather outside gets worse and worse and less cats start responding.

Eventually, Garfield and Co. go back to the council in the old abandoned theater and explain to the head cat the situation, only to find out something big.

Primal Self isn't a curse, but in fact an ancient cat spirit. One who's lived and skipped countless deaths and possesses other cats to steal away the lives they have left to add on to his life cycles. And he's currently residing in the head cat. Primal Self has gotten anxious that the cat diety is spotting him and what he's done that he's been jumping from different cats in the same era to avoid a confrontation.

Primal Self takes one lunge at Garfield at the first sign of him trying to run away, and steals this life from him.

But Garfield isn't dead, he's back in his first life as the pet cat to a caveman. And now he has to speed through all of his lives again and reach the one he had to put a stop to Primal Self.

Cause like it or not, he's got to play hero now.

Ugh.

(meanwhile back in the present, Arlene and Odie explain the situation to all the pets and strays still left and maybe even Jon and Liz and get them to help out and put a stop to Primal)

[allegra-writes]

"TKN"

Peter Parker x Anti-hero!Reader

General audiences

Warnings: None

Part XIII of the "Mercy" Series

SERIES MASTERLIST | MY MASTERLIST

"Secrets only to those you can trust.

You better not break the Omerta..."

TKN - Rosalia f. Travis Scott

72 hours. That's how long you and Peter had been on the run. And in those 72 hours, Peter had gone through more new experiences than in a whole year as an avenger: He had joined the mile high club, only to five minutes later jump from said plane at cruise speed. He had illegally entered a country, broke into a department store and even shaved his whole head to completely change his appearance. He had celebrated his and yours new freedom with sangria, and more lovemaking at the beach under the stars... 

But this? Being held at gunpoint by a tiny girl with murder in her eyes and superhuman reflexes? That was, sadly, nothing new. 

It was like watching a dance, the way your high kick sent the gun in her left hand flying, as the blonde rolled out of your reach too fast for you to get a hold of the other gun on her right. You avoided a punch to your midriff, as she jumped away from your knife. And your boyfriend saw, helpless, as it was shot out of your hand by a bullet fired with millimetric precision to its blade. But he had been instructed under no uncertain terms to stay out of the confrontation, and by now he knew better than to disobey you. 

"Don't you know what they say about bringing a knife to a gunfight?" The girl quipped, heavy ucranian accent lacing her words.

You smirked,

"They only say that cause a knife is only as good as the one who wields it, тетя Lena… Are you sure you're better with a gun than I am with a knife?"

She rolled her eyes at your cockiness, knowing full well you had several more sharp weapons hidden in your body. 

"Ты менг раздржаешь... So," Lena inquired, eyeing Peter up and down, "Who's the boy toy?"

Your smirk intensified, a barely there twitch, an almost imperceptible movement of your fingers, was all the signal your boyfriend needed,

"His name is Peter," A web shooter went off, and Lena found herself suddenly unarmed "and he's not a boy toy" 

"No, he's an avenger" She spat the word like an insult, "You know the rules, Likho. We don't fuck with strangers"

"And we only share secrets with those we can trust" You finished for her, "I trust him, Lena" 

She huffed, still sizing him up, but you could see a new glint of curiosity, if not respect, in her emerald eyes. 

After a minute, she finally relaxed, dropping her defensive stance. Without another word, she turned away from you, opening a cabinet, taking out three glasses and a bottle of vodka. 

"What's the story, then?" She began pouring the drinks, "I assume there is a story there, last time I saw you, you wanted to kill the avengers. Now here you are, with one as a pet…"

"I'm not- I'm not a…" Peter stammered his protest, "I'm not a pet" 

"Then why are you trailing after her like a lost puppy?" 

"Lena," Your tone was warning, as you grabbed your glass "play nice"

She rolled her eyes again,

"You sound just like your mother. The blonde widow made a face, downing her drink in one gulp, only to immediately refill it, "I miss her"

"Yeah" you sighed, "me too…" 

Peter fidgeted uncomfortably next to you.

"Everything ok, Peter?"

Your boyfriend hesitated: His spider sense was still on high alert, but he couldn't really tell if it was because of the assassin, or another threat you were unaware of.

He decided to play it down for the moment.

"Yeah just… don't want to be rude or anything but I'm not really the vodka type"

"I guessed that already, Spider-Boy. Is why I didn't pour you one…"

"Then who's that one for?" He questioned pointing at the third one.

"That would be for me" 

You looked up, your face breaking into the biggest grin Peter had ever seen on you at the sound of the new voice.

"Alex!" 

A pang of jealousy hit him, as he watched you throw yourself into the arms of the tall, handsome stranger.

Because this Alex guy was handsome, there was no denying that: Bright hazel eyes on top of the sharpest cheekbones Peter had ever seen, pale face framed by dark, shiny long tresses almost to his shoulders.

"Nice hair" You teased, running your fingers through his luscious locks and Peter had the sudden impulse to stick bubble gum to them like Flash had done to him once, back in junior year. He self consciously rubbed his own head, too aware of his buzzcut.

"Nice bangs," the Alex guy shot back, messing your hair like one would to a little child, "you look like a schoolgirl" 

That earned him a rather painful looking punch to his shoulder.

"Punch like a girl too"

"Train a little harder and you will too" You winked. Peter cleared his throat. "Right, of course. Alex, this is Peter. Peter, this is Alex" 

They shook hands, Peter impulsively squeezing a little too hard for a human. But the skinnier boy simply smiled a wolfish grin, all sharp white teeth, returning the grip with just as much strength. 

"Welcome to the spiders' den, Peter"

…

An hour later found the four of you satiated and relaxed, amongst empty pizza boxes and beer bottles. 

"... So, there we were, completely surrounded by both Hydra and S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, that were actually also Hydra agents, outnumbered and without any exit points in sight" Lena was retelling, Alex nodding enthusiastically beside her as he chew yet another slice of pepperoni, "So I reach inside my boot for my hidden glock, smirky hydra son of a bitch goes 'You looking for this, blondie?' Shaking my knife in front of my face…"

You fidget uncomfortably next to Peter, his eyes going from your beet red face to an Alex that seemed to be choking.

"And that little brat" she pointed at you, "Barbie pajamas, ice cream cone in one hand, my fucking gun in the other goes 'No, fart knocker, she was looking for this'" 

Alex finally snorted, little crumbs escaping his mouth and hitting you in the face as he started coughing. You wiped your face with as much dignity as you could muster.

"You're just salty because a nine year old saved your ass" 

"A sick nine year old" Alex managed to get out between barks, "With pink eye, she could only see with one eye. And using just one hand. Is why we call her Likho ever since" 

"Wait, you still had your ice cream?" 

"She never let go of that ice cream" Lena replied to the question Peter had directed at you, and you felt the temperature of your cheeks rise even more. 

"Literally single handedly took out 7 agents" Alex added, "and then demanded another scoop" 

All three of your companions dissolved in laughter, as you felt your stomach churn. Alex wouldn't look back on that particular memory with such fond eyes if he knew what that little incident had initiated, how it had snowballed until the consequences had reached a girl on the other side of the world, another red room experiment, just like you. 

They said a butterfly flapping its wings here can cause a typhoon in China. Well, your hurricane had levelled Ava Orlova's life.

You weren't one for guilt. Guilt had no place in survival. You did what had to be done in order to preserve yourself and your freedom. Just like your mother had taught you. Just like she had done. But being with Peter, loving Peter… well, that was having unforeseen consequences too, as you were coming to realize. 

Because now you understood. Now you understood Alex and Ava's bond, because Alex had felt for Ava the same way you did for Peter. Probably still did, since it was with trepidation that you realized his death probably wouldn't change your feelings for peter. 

After all, your own hadn't. 

"What about you, spider-boy? Any embarrassing stories to share?"

Peter smiled, for a minute forgetting where he was or why he was there,

"Actually, I do. It involves a barn, an overly friendly goat and hay in places hay should never…" He trailed off, his smile falling when he saw the look on your face.

"No! Why did you stop? That sounds like a great story!"

"Yeah, you got me at 'overly friendly goat'!"

Peter simply interlocked his fingers with yours, silently offering his support. It was time. You took a deep breath

"Because it wouldn't be fair to tell you a story that I don't remember" 

Silence fell over the small kitchen, as Lena and Alex processed your words, the later being the first to break it,

"S.H.I.E.L.D?"

"The T.A.H.I.T.I. protocol" you confirmed. He leaned back on his chair, chuckling, but there was no humor behind it.

"Well, well, well… ain't karma a bitch" 

"Alexei," Lena's tone was warning, "that was the Blank Slate project. You can't blame Likho for what Natasha did"

"Can't I? Really? Cause in over twenty years, our sister never cared about my 'trauma', but we find out about her" He pointed, accusingly, "and suddenly she is all about giving us a normal life. As if we could ever be normal. As if new memories could erase the Red Room from our bones"

"Alex…" You tried, weakly, but you didn't know what to say. Not when everything he was saying was true. 

"And now what? You want me to help you break through it? Now you need us to get back the memories they took from you, just like your mother stole memories from us?" 

"Alexei!"

"NO, YELENA!" Three figures automatically jumped into a fighting stance when his fist met the table. Alex closed his eyes, attempting to get his breathing, and his emotions, back under control. 

"If you want to help these Avengers, go ahead" He finally said, eyes fixed on his sister's, "but don't expect me to be a part of this." 

Without another word, he got up and left the room, leaving Yelena to pick the pieces of the broken bottle that had rolled off the table. And you, to pick up the pieces of your broken heart. 

"Shhh, it's ok, y/n" Peter, sweet, loyal Peter, tried to envelope you in his arms when he heard the first sob leave your throat, even if he didn't quite understand why it had hurt you so much to be called an Avenger. But Lena was there in a heartbeat, throwing him a dirty look, and taking your face in her hands to force you to look at her instead. 

"Don't listen to him, Likho. You're not an Avenger, you are a widow. You will always be a widow, and always will be a part of this family. Just like your mother."

You nodded, buring your face on your aunt's shoulder. 

"I'll help you, both of you" Yelena declared, eyes meeting Peter's, "Us spiders ought to take care of each other" 

To be continued… 

[guigz1-coldwar]

"Flying away" : New chapter for "Redemption in a Spirit in a Cold War" is out !

"Flying away"

Chapter Summary : Yirina is awaiting with Park before departing for the british capital....London.....

To read it on AO3, click here !

Words : +3400

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

London.....the city that was supposed to be my birthplace, the one where Jessica Blackwell, said 'Bell' lived since 1950 until she decided to join the MI6 in 1967 at 17 years old but no, it never actually happened and today, I just learned that I was going to go with Park into the british capital for real. She didn't explain to me why we had to go there but she told me that it was something good and that I shouldn't get too worried and for me, she was right. She said that she will never harm me at all in any way.

Before we depart for London, we decided to help the CIA cleaning crew in the mall and once we were done, we all returned back to the base called 'Fort Dix' where we were able to tell the events to Mason, Woods & Sims.....what happened in that mall. To say, Sims didn't take well the news that Adler was captured by Stitch and stormed off the briefing room of the base after hearing of them, angry & mad to those who came back alive from the mall.....and frankly, I can understand his angriness towards us, he has lost his best friend he had since Vietnam.

Woods & Mason were pretty neutral on the subject either shocked by the news & disturbed by Adler's decisions to break inside the mall without them, leading now everyone in this situation where the CIA has basically lost one of their best man on the field because of his reckless action. Zeyna & Bulldozer left the building afterwards the end of the briefing to have some fresh air as they weren't really able to have some since we have left the mall. Me & Park, we just needed some calm and peace, Woods & Mason left the room, leaving me with just Park, sitting next to me.....losing in my own thoughts.

"How're you feeling, Park ?" I started after 2 minutes of silence since the others has left and having put my head on her right shoulder, looking away in front of me as the projector was on, showing Stitch's picture.

"Uhm...." She was sort of surprised of having me ask that since she was the one who was always doing that by moving a little on her seat. "I'm good, Yiri." She finally replied, putting her arm behind my neck. "What about you ?"

"I feel lost, troubled....confused." I said in a low voice, thinking of a lot of things.....a big lot of things. "Everything except been okay."

"It's alright to feel like that." She told me, making me closer to her until I decided to get up from my seat, starting to look closely at Stitch picture from the projector.

"All my life, I was living under a lie, serving a man that just wanted death around him and I realized that too late." I affirmed, giving her a quick look before I close my eyes, clenching my left fist "Motherfucker !" I then decided to literally punch the wall where Stitch was showed, making a hole in the wall and a big noise from it. I was angry about everything that happened to me....everything. My hand was hurting me a little but no blood on it hopefully.

"Hey, calm down." Park moved from her seat to get next to me, trying to see if everything was okay on me. "Breath & calm down." She whispered to me, putting her hands on my arms to avoid me to repeat what I did.

"I just want to stop been lied to, you understand ?" I asked and she nodded to me, biting her lips, realizing my state. "I've fought for Perseus and even if I never believed in his ideas, I stayed, why ?"

"You said you wanted to protect the innocents from him." She exclaimed, making me remember a old discussion I had with her in the last weeks. "You wanted to protect your friends from him."

"Maybe but where are they now ?" I asked to myself, looking away before I moved away from Park, my hands on my waist. "I swore to protect them until the end, to make them flee Perseus by going to England."  I looked back for a second at Stitch. "Before you woke me up in that car, I had a memory with him & Zasha."

"Really ?" I nodded to her.

"I promised to Zasha that I will help them to get to their brother that was gone for Oxford, we were the 3th of January 1981.....ten days before I was left for dead on that airfield." I explained, telling her my discussion I had with Zed that day....I promised them that.....Did I do it ? "I just want to know what happened in those ten days."

"Did you remember what you will have done once you would have done all of that with them?" She asked me, wondering about my choices and I couldn't remember.

"I don't know but it's sure that I will have contacted either the CIA or the MI6 about Greenlight." I replied as I didn't really remember what I would do. "For my friends, I think I would have let them live their own life while I stayed to fight Perseus." I added before I decided to go back on my seat. "Zasha Smirnov, Dedov Smirnov, Yirina Portnova...the names that are staying in my mind along with Freya." I mentioned all of their names, silently.

"I'm sure that they're still alive, Yirina." Park admitted, getting sit back next to me.

"That's the only thing I really want : knowing that if they're still alive." I repeated her words before looking at her with an slowly grinning with my lips. "And.....and I want to keep you safe, like I maybe did with them."

"You will, don't worry." She reciprocated the grin on her face, giving me a little bit of recomfort. "We will keep each other safe." She corrected herself, getting her hand on my shoulder before I moved mine on hers.

"Park....I love you....I want to be with you." I affirmed and then, I moved by myself to get on her lap as she looked at me with confusion and surprise in her eyes.

"Yiri...." She whispered in an lovely tone as we started get lost in our thoughts.....our lovely thoughts about each other.

"Let me.....let me be yours as you're mine...." I said before I moved to kiss her on the lips, holding her face with my left hand, the other posed on her shoulder as she started to move her hands too around my waist.

"I'm crazy for you, I love you too." She told me as we broke the kiss for just a few seconds and some air before we returned to it in a passionated way, staying on that chair.

"Holy shit !" Another voice was entering the room and I could see Woods himself with Mason at his side and on their faces, they were so stunned as hell by what they were looking and us.....panicking like two teenagers that has been caught making love as I got back on my seat. "I can't believe my eyes about what I just see now."

"I'm seconding that." Mason exclaimed, blinking with his eyes. "I never thought of that."

"That's not what you think !" Park tried to defend ourselves and to be honest, it wasn't doing anything except to be ridiculous in front of them. "She helped me to....."  She then stopped herself in her sentence, finally realizing that she couldn't do anything about it.

"Hey, did we said that it was a bad thing ?" Woods said as he closed the door behind him, the two taking a chair with them before sitting in front of them. "How long you two were together ?" I looked at Park for a second at the same time as her and we had no choice to back down.

"3 years...." I whispered, making the boys eyes go wide at hearing that.

"By god....and you rekindled your relationship when you came back..." Mason joined his hands together, thinking while he was looking at me & Park. "There were hints about this all along and frankly, I never thought of that."

"That's why I'm always with Yiri." Park confessed as she decided to take my hands in hers, showcasing to them our love, making me smile. "We couldn't talk about it, you may have heard of the MI6 ban on this kind of relationship." She gasped.

"Yeah, we heard about it." Woods was the one to talk, crossing his arms on the chairback as he was sit backwards on it. "Yirina, how do you feel ?" He asked me.

"Well, I'm very happy to be with someone that I love so much." I affirmed before looking down. "My sexual orientation.....I'm not very public with this, you know."

"There's nothing wrong about loving someone in the same sex." Mason maintained his own opinion, leaned forwards on his chair. "It's not because that everyone is saying that it's a man and a woman that you need to follow the rules."

"Thank you, Mason." Park breathed, not even removing her hand off me.

"At least, we both know, me & Mason, that you two, you're making a perfect couple." Woods said, making me laugh silently before a arkward silence invaded the room, waiting to each other to talk......it was a bit long to be sure....

"So....I'm sure that you didn't came here to caught us doing our things." I scoffed to them, breaking the silence as no one was going to do it. They were almost going to jump from their chair at hearing someone finally talk.

"Uh....yeah !" Woods spoke up, taking a breath. "Hudson asked me to form a team to find Adler and to bring him back home." I rolled my eyes at hearing Woods saying that he will try to save Adler's stupid ass. "Yes, I know that even me will not make a move to save his asshole but we have no choice." He exclaimed, having seen me, doing that. "If we didn't have Adler, it's sure than we can all start to speak russian by now."

"MI6 is asking me to come back with Yirina to London for an briefing on the whole situation against Perseus." Park explained, finally giving me the reason of why we are going to London as she wasn't telling me why before. "So, for now, it will be without us until my director decide of my next moves." At this moment, the door of the room opened to reveal Hudson himself, staying out of the room, causing me & Park to remove our hands together.

"Park & you..." He started, pointing at me....like Adler, can't tell my fucking name....."Your private plane for London is ready, awaiting for you." After he finished, he was already out of our sight, closing back the door, leaving us inside.....thanks god, he came just for that & not to provoke me.....

"Well, we need to leave pretty quick." Park breathed before she got up from her seat, mimicking her in a second. She then offered her hand to both men. "I'll update you when we have finished." They shook hands before I moved to do the same as well with them.

"For us, we're going back soon to West-Berlin to take the rest of our equipment in the now 'old' safehouse before relocating to a new one somewhere else." Woods pronounced after he was done with shaking my hand. "They will just wait for you to come back to get your own stuff before they closed the place down."

"Finally, I started to hate the place." I scoffed making everyone laugh as I was getting my bag with me.

"Well, have a good trip in London, you two !" Mason snorted before he moved aside, allowing me & Park to leave the room, in our way to our private plane.

I was relieved to be able to leave the US now after spending more than 5 days in the country. Certainly, the New Orleans and the New Jersey were more better than the rainy grey skies of West-Berlin that I had to relive for almost a month after I came back but in here, I was feeling more....watched, been on the CIA native soil. Each time I was there, I was more looking back as a prisoner even if Park was there and I wasn't acting like one. It's just that it was very troubling to walk freely around here without been attached by a rope and tortured by the CIA.

As I was leaving the building, it was like in the mall : everyone who was an CIA agent was looking at me with wide eyes. Now, the whole CIA was aware that 'Bell' wasn't killed by Adler at Solovetsky but in a coma for 3 years in Moscow, left like that by Adler himself. With that info in mind, the only thing I need to do now is to watch my back with those guys. Even if I'm able to kill Stitch myself or even Perseus, they would still think that I'm an enemy that's need to be neutralized....give them Perseus's head on a plate, they would say that you could do better.....

We finally left the building, heading to our plane awaiting for us and nobody was there to greet us at our arrival. So, we just got inside the plane, installing ourselves, face-to-face with Park before the plan finally take off away from that base for apparently, seven hours of flight to get to London, maybe arriving at the end of the morning or near noon to the british capital. I was feeling more free, looking at seeing the US soil from the skies

"A briefing ?" I asked to Park, calling her out about our motives now.

"Yes." She started, getting herself back well in her seat, looking at me. "The director want to have a complete briefing on Perseus situation : Stone, Stitch....you get the idea...." She continued, gesturing to me with her index finger, making rounds with it.

"And they want me to come since they now know that I'm alive ?" I asked and she nodded to me. "Guess they don't want to kill me." I scoffed around, thinking about the MI6's behavior with me, very gently.

"They never think of that, Yiri." She exclaimed to me, reassuring me. "When I told them that you came back, they were more than just relieved."

"Can thank you for that, you're the one telling them of my actions with you." I guessed as I was always siding with Park back in the old days in the safehouse and by siding with her, I was with the MI6.....in a way....

"What you did with me, they were very grateful." She took my hands in her, feeling her nice touch again on me.. "Thanks to you by capturing Volkov, we were able to have a strong lead on a lot of Perseus little operations back in the day." It's been a long time that I didn't heard this name and I was wondering.

"What happened to him, by the way ?" I asked as I never thought of him....why I would have been ?....

"He's sleeping with the fish !" She replied, smirking at me, making me think about what this answer was meaning and.....

"Oh..." I whispered, realizing that Volkov was now buried deep somewhere in the sea and frankly, I was quite happy about this, remembering the type of guy he was, not a kindly one. "I think he deserve it !" I added before I started to have some chills in me, feeling cold and tired in the sudden, making me shiver and yawn at the same time.

"Someone really need a sleep." Park said as she moved to get an blanket that was just below her seat before she put it on me, covering myself. "Get some sleep, you need it for real."

"I know." I spoke in a very low voice, starting to get myself comfy in my seat, slowly closing my eyes, looking at outside the plane.

"Sleep well, Yiri." She advised me in a good way before she pull a kiss on my forehead as I was starting to finally rest in the plane for the rest of the flight.....knowning that I'm safe with her, looking at me, maybe with a big smile.

The desert of Afghanistan was pretty nice to see and it was more beautiful in the night....if we didn't count the fact that the country is at war with the communists. I was just next to a cliff, overlooking at what looks like a battlefield filled with carters, destroyed tanks and vehicles as I could see from the cliff. Behind me, hidden by large rocks were the sound of people cheering around and maybe drinking after that victory we maybe had.

I was just alone, looking away as I was checking the gun I was using : a AK-47 looking a little bit rusty on some parts, the stock not even here anymore with it. I decided to clean it from the dust & sand on it as I took a tissue to do it. It was just me, away with my thoughts until I heard some footsteps behind me.

"I said I wanted some peace." I spoke in russian, still focused on my gun and not on the person behind me.

"Even from me, love ?" The person muttered in norwegian, getting my attention to discover Freya herself, stopping to clean my gun that I put aside. "Can I ?" She pointed next to me, wanting to stay with me

"Yes, of course." I replied with a smile at her who immediately sit next to me.

"How's the shoulder ?" She asked me, fully seated with her legs crossed.

"Better." I whispered in a low voice, looking away from her as I could feel her left arm getting behind me at my waist level.

"You're sure you're okay, Yiri ?" She put her other hand on my cheek, her index finger and her annular finger, touching my cheek alongside it and removing some hair along the way. "Say something." She added as I wasn't responding at her.

"It's just that I'm preferring to have stayed with Zed back in Moscow, you know ?" I first replied, looking at her finally. "Not getting myself involved into that stupid war that Brejnev started."

"I know." She wasn't sounding so happy too to be here.

"But like always, you're doing this for Perseus, my girls !" I said, sort of mimicking Perseus himself in a bad way. "I'm not his girl and he know it."

"It's okay for you to hate him if you want." She exclaimed and I wasn't surprised by that, considering that she already knew of that. "You know that I got your back for always." She affirmed, giving me a little kiss on the cheek.

"Sometimes, I just want to think that it's just me & you and not working with Perseus." I admitted to her after her kiss to me, giving her an good look. "Have a normal life, you know."

"I see what you mean." She snorted.

"Mmhm.." I muttered as I decided to get something out of one of my pocket, revealing an silver ring with an diamond on it.

"You took your mother ring in here ?" She asked me, seeing it closely in my hand.

"I always got it near me, it's the only thing that I have left from my parents." I took a look at the ring, trying to hold back my tears from talking about my parents before I looked at her. "Give me your hand." I ordered and she complied even I could see the surprise on her face.

"What are you doing ?"  She told me, removing her glove from her left hand as I put the ring at her annular finger.

"I'm not good at this but I need to ask you something...." I started before I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. "Freya....will....will you marry me ?"  I was awaiting for an answer until I see a big smile on her face and then, she moved to kiss me on the lips after she looked at the ring at her hand.

"Thanks you, Yiri." She breathed, still under the weight of emotions

"I know we can't do this legally but I wanted to make the proposal to you." I admitted, knowing that the laws doesn't allow that type of marriage. "I just wanted to be an happy woman with you." I then started to move to get on her lap as she moved to allow me to be on her before we started to kiss again in full pleasure and then, I looked at her, my hands on her face.....

"Let me be yours....as you're mine !"

[treadmilltreats]

Who this president truly is

'Being president doesn't change who you are, it reveals who you are.” Former First Lady Michelle Obama has said.

This is such a powerful statement, especially in these times. One of my favorite quotes is from Maya Angelou "People will tell you who they are" 

So America, are you listening?

We got 2 days left for the biggest decision of our lives, this is literally the vote of our lifetime.

At this moment, we know that #45 has definitely revealed who he is, and what he stands for. There are so many things he has said, that came out of his own mouth, that definitely isn't fake news, no matter how much his supporters want to spin that.

Well...where do we start….

How about that Women are pigs…

On Carly Fiorina

"Look at that face. Would anybody vote for that? Can you imagine that, the face of our next president? I mean, she's a woman, and I'm not supposed to say bad things, but really, folks, come on. Are we serious?" [Sept. 9, 2015]

 "Why does she keep interrupting everybody?" [Nov. 10, 2015]

On Jessica Chastain

"She's certainly not hot." [February 2013]

On Stormy Daniels

"Horseface" [Oct. 16, 2018]

On Halle Berry

 "I love her … upper body." [February 2013]

To the removal of our beautiful statues and monuments. 

In a speech from Trump Tower, Trump said there were "very fine people" on both sides of the protests.

White supremacist leaders, including former KKK leader David Duke, have praised Trump for his "honesty," while critics have slammed him for putting neo-Nazis and anti-fascist resisters on the same moral plane.

Laziness is a trait in blacks

“I have black guys counting my money. … I hate it,” Trump went on to say “The only guys I want counting my money are short guys that wear yarmulkes all day.”

 "He's a war hero because he was captured, I like people who weren't captured"

Trump, who never served in Vietnam, and who received multiple deferments to avoid service, had this to say in July 2015 about U.S. Sen. John McCain, R-Ariz., a naval aviator who spent five years in a North Vietnamese prison camp, where he was tortured.

 "Jeb Bush has to like the Mexican illegals because of his wife"

 Trump retweeted this - and then thought better and deleted the post, on July 4, 2015.

'The Japs'

In a 1989 interview with Time magazine, Trump dropped this doozy when he was asked to ballpark his total wealth.

“Who the f knows? I mean, really, who knows how much the Japs will pay for Manhattan property these days?” he said, employing a common racial slur for the Japanese.

'There was blood coming out of her wherever'

Trump made these remarks after he was manhandled during a primary season debate by former Fox News host Megyn Kelly. Trump also denounced Kelly, a respected journalist as a "lightweight,"

 'I am the least racist person there is'

Simply not supported by the available evidence and truly laughable.

'No need to spill the beans'

In 2016, Trump retweeted an image negatively comparing the looks of his wife Melania Trump, a former fashion model, and Heidi Cruz, the wife of then-primary rival, Sen. Ted Cruz of Texas.

Cruz went on offense, defending his wife: "Donald, real men don't attack women. Your wife is lovely, and Heidi is the love of my life."

'She was bleeding badly from a facelift'

So what is it with Trump and blood anyway? He directed these offensive comments toward MSNBC anchor and "Morning Joe" co-host Mika Brezinski. As The New York Times reported:

"The president described Ms. Brzezinski as "low I.Q. Crazy Mika" and claimed in a series of Twitter posts that she had been "bleeding badly from a face-lift" during a social gathering at Mr. Trump's resort in Florida around New Year's Eve. The White House did not explain what had prompted the outburst, but a spokeswoman said Ms. Brzezinski deserved a rebuke because of her show's harsh stance on Mr. Trump."

YES - they really did go with the "she was asking for it" defense.

'Grab them by the p***y'

Trump has said some pretty terrible things about women during his 71 years of wandering this Earth. But these remarks to a former "Access Hollywood" host might be the sine qua non to understanding his attitude.

'Some, I assume, are good people.'

The racist gaffe heard 'round the world: Trump said of Mexico. 

"They’re bringing drugs. They’re bringing crime. They’re rapists. And some, I assume, are good people."

These are quotes and tweets this man who is supposedly running our country has said. How great have we've become in these last 4 years? Were we having more racial unrest than ever? When black men are being hung once again? When he stirs the pot by saying "Stand by and stand tall" 

When he calls people who are not like him names, when he belittle and demeans women? When he is trying to divide us instead of bringing us together?

This man is out for himself and his "white friends" he doesn't care about anyone but himself. He literally wants us to go back into the 50's where blacks had no rights, women had no choice and the LGBT community were in the closet. Instead of moving us forward, he is moving us backwards.

So today my friends, remember all of this when you vote but more importantly remember this if you are not voting, if you think your vote doesn't count, if you are undecided, this is what you are voting for. This is the character of the man who wants to run our country for four more years.

This vote is literally depending on you, it is your life. Your vote affects the women in your lives choice, if you're black or of color this could mean life or death for you and your loved ones. If you are LGBT or know someone that is this is a vote to keep them free and living how they want to.

Please, please... I am begging you to vote as if your life depends on it because it does.

"Be the change you want to see"

 

"And just when the caterpillar thought his life over...he turned into a beautiful butterfly"

**Now released my latest book**

The Blessing in Disguise.... revealed

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[kbrock9146]

THIS IS A LONG, LONG STORY. PLEASE READ TO THE END TO UNDERSTAND THE MAGNITUDE OF WHAT HAPPENED. But it is a longgggggggg story.

Ok. Buckle up folks. Here comes some crazy content for you to enjoy during Quarantine. Shout out to @gothicmagpie for letting me know that they were interested. ❤❤❤ Here we go, it's going to be a bumpy ride, and a long story (and yes, I will answer any and all questions afterwards, no worries about offending me or anything).

First things first, here is a picture of my maternal grandparents (featuring the grandmother in question):

I do not know the date of the above picture, but my GF was born in 1895, and my GM, 1898. They were in their late 40s, early 50s in the above picture. That, I do know. My mother was born in 1941, when my GM was 42, and my GF was 45, and this picture was taken sometime after she had been born.

With me so far? Okay, good. So those wonderful people above, they are both on their second marriage by the time of that pic. My GF's first wife died in childbirth, and my GM's first husband had been killed in the coal yard he worked at when a dump truck full of coal backed up and unloaded the coal on top of him. My GF and GM were both single parents in the early 1900s - they were both struggling, and going through a multitude of situations - INCLUDING GOING TO THE MOTHER FUCKING POPE (YES, POPE!) SO THAT THEY COULD GET PERMISSION TO GET MARRIED (the reason for that is another story for ANOTHER time).

Anyhow, they get married, blend their children into one household, have three or four more, for a total of seven, my mom being the youngest. My GF dies in 1962 from damage he took at the Battle of the Argonne during World Word One (he dry-drowned in his sleep). This leaves my GM windowed, and she remains this way until her death.

**as an aside, my GF died right before my mom was to get married to my dad (she was 21, and dad 22, at the time); when my dad came over to stay with my mom's family for the funeral, my deceased GF came to my dad with a message, so this is something that just apparently happens in my family - of course, I knew none of this when I saw my GM decades later**

From my first meeting with my GM, and until her death, she looked pretty much exactly as she does in the pic above. The only thing that really changed was that after she broke her hip for the 2nd time, she was pretty much confined to a wheelchair until she died. But kindly, smiling, gentle, and always wearing basically a mumu, that was my GM until she passed away November 2nd, 1990.

That year, on November 14th, I turned 10. My birthday that year was a bit strained. My dad wasn't exactly phased by what had happened, and while my mom wasn't exactly in pieces over it - my GM had been very sick in her last years and in a nursing home - she was sad, and was trying her best to run a family while dealing with the loss. The situation was made even worse when the wife of her oldest brother (he was 30 when she was born), called and berated and shamed my mom for not coughing up more money for the funeral and burial. My mom was EXTREMELY upset. Out of her other six siblings, she was the only one with a child under 25 at that time (remember, I was 10), and money wasn't exactly free flowing. My mom was a stay-at-home mom, my dad was a Baltimore City Police Officer, and I was going to private school. We weren't rich. And my mom's sister-in-law knew this, she just didn't care. She kept calling and harassing my mom to the point of tears. My mom was miserable; she was being driven to the point of shame and madness and didn't know what to do.

That brings us to the day of the visit. I don't remember why, but I was home alone. It was late in the day, and the sun was setting. I know this because the bedrooms of my house are on the west side, and they warm up nicely as the sun goes down. Out of the three bedrooms, I found myself in the middle one that day. The back room was mine, the middle my mom's, and the front/master bedroom was my dad's. I was not allowed into his room, but the middle room had a door that was shared with the master bedroom. That door was open and there was a noise coming from the bedroom, like someone walking around. I sat at the desk, looking towards the noise and the door, and just waited.

I can't say that I was scared exactly, but I was certainly curious. I cleared my throat, closed up the desk, and swiveled in the chair so that I was looking straight at that shared door. The movement continued, but there was no shadow being cast. I grew kind of bored just waiting, so I remember looking away out of the main bedroom door and then looking back.....

When I looked back, there stood my GM in the shared doorway. She was standing there, unaided, no wheelchair, but still rocking a mumu like a champ, and as solid as any living person. I remember her looking bemused and smiling at me before she said, "Hello."; I was more confused than anything at this point, so I mumbled some sort of greeting, and stood up to walk over towards her. I don't know why that was my first thought, but it was. Anyway, as I was walking over, I could hear that someome else was moving around in the room behind her as well, although I couldn't see who it was at that point.

Before I could get any closer, my GM said that she was here because she wanted to see my mom, and asked if I could go get her. I told her that my mom was out, and her smile faltered for a brief moment before she refocused onto me and asked if I could promise to relay a message. I told her of course I could, and waited for what she had to say. She glanced behind her and into the room for a moment, towards where the noise was coming from, and then looked back at me. She began to tell me that she was happy, and that it was VERY important for me to tell my mom that she was happy. Other things were said, like not to worry about what John's wife was saying in regards to the funeral and burial, she missed us, and a few other things that I honestly can't remember. At the end, noise was still being made in the room behind her, and she could see that I was not really paying attention to her (can you imagine the hubris of not paying attention to a dead relative that has come back with a message from beyond because you're concerned about the noises coming from another room?!?!?! My life has been wild.), so she called the person over who had apparently been making all the noise, and introduced him to me.

So now I have two very solid, very elderly-looking deceased people in my house. And this man, keep in mind I've had three grandfather's, this man is someone I have NEVER seen in my life, but my GM is just TICKLED with this guy. She introduces me to him, and he has the HUGEST smile I have ever seen a person have, and he nods his head in my direction, then looks back at my GM, and reaches out to hold her hand.

From this point on I do not remember any words that were said because I was laser focused on trying to figure out WHO this guy was. When I say in the above paragraph that my GM "introduced" me to him, she did, but the name was literally foreign, and having never heard this man's name before, I couldn't clearly make it out. The only thing I knew at the time was that this guy was NOT either of my grandfather's, I had NEVER seen him before, and this is going to sound crazy (oh, yeah, okay Kim, *THIS* is going to sound crazy.... *THIS* part coming up is going to sound "crazy"..... ok, Kim), but he just *looked* Italian. I didn't recognize his name or his face, but looking at him, I just remember thinking that this dude was Italian. And that made me really, really confused because my mom's side of the family and my dad's side of the family both came over together from Germany - they settled on the same street, for goodness sakes, so I had NO IDEA where this Italian guy came from. But I could tell that they made each other really happy in whatever afterlife they were in.

Then my mind started wandering even more because I was thinking to myself that if my GM and this random dude are having a blast in the afterlife, where are my grandfathers? Who are they with? What does this mean? Are there soul mates? When is my mom comimg home? What's going to happen when I die? WHO IS THIS GUY? Why are they in my dad's room? Why is anyone thinking this is okay to lay on a 10 year old? But for real, WHO IS THIS GUY? Does he speak? Why hasn't he spoken? What is going on?

About this time is when either my GM could tell that I was about done, or she herself had done all she could in this plane of existence, because I remember her saying, "Now, you'll tell her won't you?" And I let out a humourless laugh because we all knew that at that point in my mom's life, she didn't believe in ghosts or anything paranormal. So, I kinda laughed, and glanced away and said, "I'll remember, but she's not going to believe me." As I glanced back, they were gone, and the house was silent.

Many weeks went by and I said nothing. My dad, who was very "sensitive" to that sort of thing, and had had supernatural experiences, I avoided telling him because he would have thought I was lying and hit me. He didn't like being bothered with stuff. And my mom, well, she didn't believe in the supernatural, so even though she would have listened to me and let me get the whole story out, she wouldn't have believed a word of it. So for weeks and weeks I kept this story to myself and said nothing. Not saying anything was driving me crazy, especially because I wanted to know who the guy was that had been with my GM.

It was just my mom and myself one night at dinner. And that night my mom broke down over being harrassed about the funeral/burial by her sister in law. After we had finished eating, I took a deep breath and asked my mom if we could talk. She said sure, so I gingerly brought up her mom. I could tell that it wasn't a conversation she really wanted to have, so I just jumped right to the heart of the matter......

"Mom? GM was married twice, right?"

"Yes. I told you about that."

"I know. I was just making sure."

My mom looked at me strangely, "Why would you want to 'make sure', about something like that? What even brought this up?"

Not really knowing what to do at this point, I just jumped in with both feet and started telling her the story of my GM's visit. As predicted, my mom looked thoroughly unimpressed with what I was saying.... that is, until I mentioned the Italian guy.

My mom was an olive skinned woman, but when I mentioned the Italian guy, she turned white as a sheet. She asked me to repeat myself, and then, without a word, my mom got up and left the kitchen. I heard her climb into the attic, and there she stayed for quite some time. She had been gone so long, I was starting to doubt that she was coming back, and I got scared that I had said something that upset her so badly, that she had locked herself in the attic. Just as the situation crescendoed, and I was going over how I was going to explain everything to my dad when he got home and wanted to know why my mom was barricaded in the attic, my mom returned to the kitchen, out of breath, with a very huge, very old book, that she triumphantly thumped down on the table, hard.

With a flourish, she flipped open the book reveal two tin-types. One was a young woman, fashionably dressed, and posing as per the norms at the time. My mother asked, "Do you know who that is?"

I squinted a little harder at the picture. It was my GM. Young. I had never seen her young before. Was that a fox she had around her neck? She was dressed to the NINES. As I sat admiring the tin-type of my GM, I happened to glance over at the other side of the book, at the second tin-type.

This one was a bit different.

This one was a fashionably dressed young man.

THE man.

The man that had appeared all those weeks ago with my GM.

I looked up at mom. She was looking at me expectantly. "Is that him?", she asked. I nodded. It was. Much younger, but the eyes, the nose.... very much the same.

"Who is this?" I asked. My mom started to explain to me as she bade me to continue looking through the book. Before my GF, before my GM's first husband, there was this gentleman, my GM's Italian lover.

The book was full of letters, mementos, fabric, flowers, pictures, just about anything that they had sent back and forth to each other. My GM not only spoke German and English, but Italian too! Their handwritten letters were intermingled with the keepsakes within this book.

No one else in the family knew about my GM's Italian lover. The only reason my mom knew is because as my GM's caretaker towards the end, she had found this and asked her mom about it. Apparently my GM and this Italian gentleman had been together for a very long time. Something happened that forced him to return to Italy - I'm not sure of it was Visa related, or if someone had taken ill - but he had asked my GM to come to Italy with him, and she had declined.

Throughout the book, there were more letters from him after he had gone back to Italy, wherein he was trying to figure out different ways for my GM and him to be together, but eventually the letters stopped (probably because my GM refused to go to Italy). Shortly thereafter, my GM married her first husband, a fellow German by the name of Walter. And the rest is, as they say, history.

So, what did I learn from all this? I learned that once you die, you don't necessarily end up with who you were with while you were alive; you can make house calls to your grandchildren and leave messages for your own, grown children. And being on a different plane of existence will not stop a person from throwing shade when it's justified because the living are acting a fool.

Ah, the mysteries of the supernatural.

[clavissionary-position]

Gilbert strikes again. Oh man. What a doozy.

(fic spoilers)

He finds you curled up on the soft black satin of his bed, a nap having taken liberties and stretched itself out for several hours without your permission. You lay, one arm behind your head like a maiden in swoon.

You had me at black satin sheets. Gilbertcore aesthetic is best aesthetic. Sexthetic, let’s gooooo

Nap with a mind of its own. This personification is such a clever and refreshing way of conveying the literal cat-like whims of a nap. Super love it, Violet. 

And that gorgeous, tantalizing imagery of you laying out like that, immediately setting you up as this vulnerable prey but with the allure of a silver-screen heroine, frickin choice, dude. You establish so much in the space of so little, with elegant language to boot.

Lmao but then Gilbert calling you out like that. He knows it’s Sex o’ Clock. It’s time to get up off his sexy sex sheets.

Starting at the foot of the bed, he crawls his way up, a shadow sliding its way over your body until he is positioned above you, his eye hungry as he prowls the planes of your sleeping face. 

Just. This. Entire. UGHHH THE SEX APPEAL HERE. The incubus energy. My body is ready SIR. Horny Suitor POV while you’re napping is the kink I never knew I had before now, so thank you for that XD

Gilbert is always hungry. Hunger pulses through him like a heartbeat, like the vibration of sound. Hunger guides him, pushes him, a harsh mistress. Demanding. Never satisfied.

What a metaphor. Like. Wow. I love the contrast here, the idea that someone as all-powerful as Gilbert is beholden to this kind of carnal, worldly, decadent desire. Even when he’s domming, he’s at the mercy of this “harsh mistress”. Really cool contrast.

Your eyes don’t open. There’s no need for sight when everything in you is being controlled by taste, by touch, by sound.

You weren't lying about the sensory-play were you! XD Mark me down as horny.

Gilbert tastes like the cold air right before snowfall. Sharp and clear, a winter’s blade cutting through the warmth of your body.

Oh I love this. When I write Gilbert, I write him as being tasteless, but your description is on a whole different level. Your way of painting the taste of him in literal winter here is so, so enticing, and chilling in the best way. Heckin sublime setup for what's to come next. And to, like, consume this facet of Gilbert without sight, while he's consuming you, that symmetry right there is delicious.

He sounds like the low, distant roll of thunder across a darkening sky, your name a sound as primal to him as a groan or sigh.  Holy communion for Gilbert isn’t wafers and wine, but your name on his tongue. It is the gravelly whisper of salvation and the death knell of his sanity…..because from the moment you entered his life, he has never known a day without you casting a bright shadow over every single thought born of his mind.

Your name being something primal and primordial to Gilbert is the stuff of a true, dark romance. Alexa, play the soft pitter-patter of my salivating drool.

Exactly what that anon said. So brilliant. And the use of "bright shadow" here makes me think that you're not only a guiding light, but a specter who is not so different from Gilbert himself. Bright Shadow to his Bright Promise.

You are now fully awake and aflame under his cool touch, paradox made flesh. His fingers slide over the vulnerable line of your neck, feeling the throb of your heartbeat, it’s strength and speed urging him on. Those shapely fingers slide further up, into the soft wilderness of your hair where they slowly curl inward. Steadying. Controlling. You are held prisoner within his grasp and would willingly remain in such a beautiful jail forever.

We love paradoxes being made flesh in this house. And the intimacy of your metaphorical incubus feeling your pulse shatters me 🥰. Like with your closeup of Chev's quill-holding hand in your fic from the day before, I am absolutely present for Gilbert's shapely fingers. I feel like we don't often get detailed accounts of how exactly a suitor plays with your hair, so it's very cool to see how Gilbert orchestrates his movements.

The "would willingly remain in such a beautiful jail forever" is the kind of line you wanna throw up on pinterest and reblog in isolation on tumblr and quote forever for how true it is, and how elegantly that truth is told. Granted all your writing is just so dang quotable.

Or the way he sinks his white teeth into [your lips].

It's the details, Violet. It's the damn, show-topping details *maidenly swoon*

A low purr rolls from his throat, vibrating through you as he demands more. Your tongue is the next course in the meal he is making of you. He sucks on it, almost to the point of pain.

The purring, the sucking on your tongue almost to the point of pain. Make me pine for this man even more why don't you 😭

Time is no longer measured by the ticking hands of a clock, but by the number of times he draws breath only to dive back in

Oh my god, this bit about how time itself becomes an artifact of lovers, this is so brilliant. I've always been drawn to the element of zweisamkeit between lovers and this line is such a wonderful nod to that. Love it so much.

the beast begins its slow retreat. His fingers uncurl, loosening their hold on your hair. His mouth goes gentle once again, sweet. 

No Gilbert don't retreat!! But also retreat, cuz I'm all about that denial 😌

Gilbert breathes out, his lips still against yours, like palms pressed together in prayer.

Another positively quotable line. This kind of transcendent togetherness is food for the soul.

He smooths your hair with a tender touch. He kisses your lips with a softness that almost breaks your heart. 

I'm not crying you're crying.

Thank you for another amazing fic, or shall I say, another seductive trip through death at the hands of Gilbert. The detailed descriptions were not only incredibly immersive but just *me making incoherent keysmashes*. And the ending was so perfect. I know you prefer to skip the smut, but I think the fact that you didn't take it there and instead ended somewhere chaste and emotionally affecting made this story all that much better. It wasn't the obvious direction but it was a beautiful one. Sign me up for captivity in the beautiful jail of your writing please.

A/N: Gilbert did have to wait until Clavis was done but now he has his moment

Happy half-birthday anon 🎈🎉(you're a good friend lol)

Word count: 666 (for real)

He finds you curled up on the soft black satin of his bed, a nap having taken liberties and stretched itself out for several hours without your permission. You lay, one arm behind your head like a maiden in swoon.

But he knows you are no maiden.

Starting at the foot of the bed, he crawls his way up, a shadow sliding its way over your body until he is positioned above you, his eye hungry as he prowls the planes of your sleeping face. 

Gilbert is always hungry. Hunger pulses through him like a heartbeat, like the vibration of sound. Hunger guides him, pushes him, a harsh mistress. Demanding. Never satisfied.

He is always hungry.

And right now, you look delicious.

Hunger has him bend down and cover your soft, sweet mouth with his. 

He starts slow, a connoisseur of kissing you. He takes your lower lip between his teeth, gentle for now, pulling you towards wakefulness on gossamer threads of want and need.

He feels when you awaken, your breath quickening, calm ocean waves growing wild in the winds of an oncoming storm.

Your eyes don't open. There's no need for sight when everything in you is being controlled by taste, by touch, by sound.

Gilbert tastes like the cold air right before snowfall. Sharp and clear, a winter's blade cutting through the warmth of your body.

His touch is the burning cold of ice trailing across your skin, leaving a path of goosebumps in its wake.

He sounds like the low, distant roll of thunder across a darkening sky, your name a sound as primal to him as a groan or sigh. 

Holy communion for Gilbert isn't wafers and wine, but your name on his tongue. It is the gravelly whisper of salvation and the death knell of his sanity…..because from the moment you entered his life, he has never known a day without you casting a bright shadow over every single thought born of his mind.

You are now fully awake and aflame under his cool touch, paradox made flesh. His fingers slide over the vulnerable line of your neck, feeling the throb of your heartbeat, it's strength and speed urging him on. Those shapely fingers slide further up, into the soft wilderness of your hair where they slowly curl inward. Steadying. Controlling. You are held prisoner within his grasp and would willingly remain in such a beautiful jail forever.

With your head now still, he is free to plunder that which he has sought this whole time. There is nothing gentle now in the way he uses his tongue to part your lips. Or the way he sinks his white teeth into them. Your gasps are consumed along with every groan, delicacies upon which he feasts greedily, a beast freed from the shackles of hibernation, and starving. 

But lips and sighs are not enough. A low purr rolls from his throat, vibrating through you as he demands more. Your tongue is the next course in the meal he is making of you. He sucks on it, almost to the point of pain. He drinks from it like it is ambrosia, the very sustenance of the Gods themselves.

Time is no longer measured by the ticking hands of a clock, but by the number of times he draws breath only to dive back in, lost in the heavenly feel of your mouth under his, a supplicant bowing in ecstasy under the power of something divine.

When he feels the way your fingernails dig into his shoulders, hard enough that even through clothing he feels their bite, the beast begins its slow retreat. His fingers uncurl, loosening their hold on your hair. His mouth goes gentle once again, sweet. 

Gilbert breathes out, his lips still against yours, like palms pressed together in prayer.

He smooths your hair with a tender touch.

He kisses your lips with a softness that almost breaks your heart. 

He is full. The beast is sated. 

For now.

💋

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @atelieredux @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesroseforclavis @somekidnamedkai @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @ikehoe @redheadkittys @themysticalbeing @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @queen-dahlia @moonstruck-writing @scorchieart @gilbertvonobsidian