#inspiritional readings

[wisesoultarot]

Full Moon in Leo Messages for you: What do you need to hear this full moon?

Enjoy 20% off of all readings (VALENTINE SALE). (Use Code VALENTINE) at the checkout to avail this offer. Offer valid till 14 FEB. Hurry! LIMITED offer!!

🌕IMAGE 1:

Are you caught up in the relentless whirlwind of work, constantly pushing forward without taking a moment to pause and reflect on your achievements? In the hustle and bustle of daily responsibilities, do you often find it challenging to lift your own spirits and recognize the hard work you've put in? If you struggle to carve out time for yourself, feeling guilty for taking a break or unwinding, this full moon serves as a gentle reminder to slow down and honor your own journey. It encourages you to take a step back, breathe deeply, and celebrate the milestones you've reached, no matter how small they may seem. This celestial event is an opportunity to reconnect with yourself, acknowledge your efforts, and give yourself the credit you deserve. Embrace this moment to recharge, reflect, and rejuvenate, allowing the light of the full moon to illuminate your path and inspire you to continue moving forward with renewed energy and purpose.

🌕IMAGE 2:

Do you find yourself brimming with incredible ideas, ambitious goals, or visionary concepts, yet often hold back due to worries about how others might react? If you frequently find yourself postponing the pursuit of your dreams because you're unsure of the outcome or fearful of judgment, this full moon presents a unique opportunity for you to step into your power and embrace your true potential.

The universe is not just a passive observer; it is actively encouraging you to reveal your vision to the world. This celestial event is a reminder that your creativity is not only valid but also necessary. The energy of the full moon is a catalyst for inspiration, admiration, and motivation, urging you to break free from the shackles of self-doubt and hesitation.

Now is the time to share your unique ideas and creative expressions with others. Whether it's through art, writing, entrepreneurship, or any other form of self-expression, the world is ready to receive what you have to offer. As you take this bold step, you may be pleasantly surprised by the enthusiastic responses from those around you. People are often more receptive and supportive than we anticipate, and your willingness to share your vision can ignite a spark in others, creating a ripple effect of inspiration.

So, let go of your fears and embrace this moment. Trust in your abilities and the value of your contributions. The universe is cheering you on, and by stepping into the light, you not only honor your own journey but also inspire others to pursue their dreams. This full moon is your invitation to shine brightly and watch as the world responds with open arms and excitement!

🌕IMAGE 3:

Do you truly value yourself? This question is fundamental to understanding your self-worth and how you navigate the complexities of life. When moments of boredom, fatigue, sadness, or a lack of motivation strike—those inevitable dips in our emotional landscape—how do you respond? Do you take a moment to uplift your spirit, to remind yourself of your strengths and the beauty within you? Or do you allow your inner critic to take the reins, drowning out your self-esteem with waves of negativity and self-doubt?

Consider how you treat yourself during these challenging times. Are you taking the time to care for your appearance and health, recognizing that these aspects are vital to your overall well-being? Or do you find yourself neglecting them, perhaps as a reflection of how you feel about yourself? This full moon serves as a powerful reminder and an invitation to shift your self-perception. It encourages you to embrace self-appreciation, to acknowledge your worth, and to actively seek out ways to motivate yourself to pursue your passions and interests.

Celebrate your uniqueness—there is no one else quite like you in this world. Take the time to indulge in delightful meals that nourish your body and soul, treat yourself to a relaxing spa day where you can unwind and rejuvenate, or enjoy a soothing massage that helps release tension and promotes relaxation. These acts of self-care are not just luxuries; they are essential practices that nurture your well-being and reinforce the idea that you are deserving of love and care.

Prioritize self-care in your daily routine. It’s not merely about pampering yourself; it’s about recognizing that you are worthy of attention and kindness. By nurturing your well-being, you create a solid foundation from which to face life’s challenges with resilience and grace. Embrace this opportunity to reflect on your self-worth, to cultivate a deeper appreciation for who you are, and to take actionable steps toward a more fulfilling and joyful existence. Remember, you are your own greatest advocate—treat yourself with the love and respect you deserve.

[trinalwilliams]

"With perspicacious eyes, she sees beyond the veil”

Tlw/Lumina

[inspiritsafety]

Happy National Reading Day! Books open doors to new worlds and ideas. Today, we encourage everyone to pick up a book and dive into the magical world of literature. Let's foster a love for reading and build a brighter future. 📖📚

[beemovieerotica]

Okay re: the quidditch thing, there is a plot point in one of the Harry potter books that one of the girl quidditch players on the griffindor team (I think Angela) gets purposely attacked by the two slytherin male beaters (their role is to use their bats to hit the balls) and it's basically shown as "the two BOYS from the MEAN TEAM go out of their way to ATTACK a GIRL from the GOOD TEAM" so yes, jkr has been writing her fictional mixed sex sports as a way to "prove" that those meanie men will go out of their way to attack women in sports since the 1990s

it's so wild how the seeds of her heinous belief systems are there, baked into a book series we just read as fun children's lit - Ursula K Le Guin really went off when she described it all as mean-inspirited !!!

[puffballwarrior-blog]

After months of putting this off, I'm finally posting stuff for Spectral Dreams :D

Click for higher quality

Introducing the mascot, Magonyan! The Yo-Kai version of Magolor.

He's a C-rank Fire Attribute Yo-Kai freed by Nate from the Crank-a-kai. His inspiriting causes lying when you don't mean to. His Skill is Resistance which reduces effects from enemy inspirits. His Soultimate is Bombs of Fury, which is basically just a fire attribute Paws of Fury.

Edit: this has been changed! His Soultimate is now called Mago Bomb Barrage

There's gonna be a MASSIVE lore dump under the cut if you wanna read.

Over 200 years ago, he died being mauled by a dog, thus losing his limbs. After that, he discovered that no one could see him and thought he could do whatever he wanted without consequences. He snuck into a village altar and stole the crown of a tyrant, the Overlord's Crown. He put it on and fused with it, creating a powerful Yo-Kai named Overnyan.

Magonyan thought it was the coolest thing ever, wanting to test his new form's power. But little did he know, the crown he fused with was taken over by a Wicked Yo-Kai. It took over his body and wreaked havoc on the village. But before it could cause any more destruction, a little pink Legendary Yo-Kai stopped him, and he was sealed away in the Crank-a-kai.

While sealed away, he felt all alone. No one to talk to, alone with his thoughts in a tiny cramped capsule. A decade later, he heard a voice, a new Yo-Kai had been sealed away in a capsule just like he was. The voice was rambling on and on about his old master, a shogun who died in a war. Magonyan listened intently to him, even chiming in to make a conversation. They built a close friendship over the years they were trapped despite never seeing each other's faces. Until one day, Magonyan's friend was freed from the Crank-a-kai, leaving him alone once again.

It didn't take long for him to be next, however. He was freed by an average-looking human boy, Nate. Magonyan noticed how much attention Jibanyan got and decided to make a costume of him, even pretending to be him at one point. It was then he discovered his love for making costumes and made a lot of different cosplays of other cat Yo-Kai.

(Unrelated to lore but I imagine if he were in a game, you could customize which costume he wears when befriending different cat Yo-Kai.)

They wound up finding the Overlord's Crown once more but Magonyan only fuses with it if it's a dire situation, he does not want to be taken over by the Wicked again.

Soon, the stuff with Dame Dedtime happened, and Wicked Yo-Kai were taking over Old Springdale and the humans and Yo-Kai in it. In the final fight, Magonyan fused with the crown and dealt the final blow to Dame Demona. Because of this, Kin and Gin sent him back in time to try and change his fate in an attempt to "revive" Dame Dedtime, similar to what they did with Jibanyan and Whisper. He refused, choosing to die again and return to his friends. Reliving his death was scary, but worth being able to be in an afterlife with friends.

After a while, something happened and he ended up losing control as Overnyan again. This caught the attention of Lord Enma and for the sake of Springdale, he sealed him away in the Infinite Inferno. Magonyan ended up fighting the big bosses inside in order to get out, making friends with those wrongly in there along the way who also wanted out. In the end, instead of Wobblewok, he had to fight the Wicked Yo-Kai who had broken free from the crown. When things looked bad, Magonyan picked up the crown and fused with it once more, finally having it under his control. He picked up a sword that had mysteriously appeared on the ground, one that bore a striking resemblance to the Enma Blade, and used it to defeat the Wicked that caused all of this.

(I imagine the fight would be similar to the Yo-Kaiju fight in YKW3 with controlling every action)

After the fight, he's approached by none other than Lord Enma himself. He explains that he sent Magonyan to the Infinite Inferno because he thought he was abusing the power of the crown but knows now that it was the Wicked's doing all along. After he properly apologizes for the misunderstanding, he agrees to let Magonyan out of the Infinite Inferno with the Overlord's Crown and the sword he gave him under the promise that he would use their power responsibly. Magonyan agrees without hesitation and he is let out.

After escaping, he notices that Nate is nowhere to be found in Springdale, his family isn't even in their house. Where could he have gone? And what's Magonyan supposed to do now?

[robertwaltons]

i am not immune to blasting my favourite characters with the neurodivergent beam — i think there is something very comforting about a character from a book written long before these things were understood (at least with the vocabulary we have today) articulating things about themselves that you can see something of yourself in

with that in mind, let me take you on a journey where i explain in far more detail than probably necessary

Why Captain Robert Walton from Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein; or, the Modern Prometheus (1818) has ADHD (in my non-professional neurodivergent opinion)!

i’ll be going through some common ADHD symptoms and presenting evidence from the text to demonstrate how Walton, in his own representation of himself, can be interpreted as displaying these traits

let's go!!

— INATTENTIVENESS AND FOCUS

Walton has a strong and active imagination, and seems prone to excessive daydreaming and letting his mind wander, even becoming distracted by sensory input (the sublime beauty of nature, lol):

Inspirited by this wind of promise, my daydreams become more fervent and vivid.

He feels that he is set apart by his own manner of thinking, that his mind is in need of "regulation":

Now I am twenty-eight and am in reality more illiterate than many schoolboys of fifteen. It is true that I have thought more and that my daydreams are more extended and magnificent, but they want (as the painters call it) keeping; and I greatly need a friend who would have sense enough not to despise me as romantic, and affection enough for me to endeavour to regulate my mind.

The "keeping" that Shelley refers to is artistic terminology meaning

The maintenance of the proper relation between the representations of nearer and more distant objects in a picture; [...] the maintenance of harmony of composition. (X)

I would interpret Walton's meaning here to be that he understands his thoughts to be somewhat "all over the place" or lacking practicality; he is aware that he has an overzealous and ambitious personality, and requires a sense of harmony (ideally, in the form of an understanding friend) who will keep him focused.

Even Victor comments on Walton seeming to become impatient with him or lose focus during his own tangent:

Victor: But I forget that I am moralizing in the most interesting part of my tale, and your looks remind me to proceed.

(adhd bitches be like let me infodump my entire brain at you and tell you seven unrelated stories before getting to the point but the SECOND someone else goes off topic it's so over)

Walton's inattentiveness is best demonstrated by his lack of concentration on things like his education in favour of his interests when he was a boy:

My education was neglected, yet I was passionately fond of reading. These volumes were my study day and night[...]

and speaking of!

— HYPERFIXATIONS

I feel my heart glow with an enthusiasm which elevates me to heaven, for nothing contributes so much to tranquillise the mind as a steady purpose—a point on which the soul may fix its intellectual eye.

^ me when i will go insane if i don't have my silly little Topics to obsess over. this guy gets it

Walton is clearly influenced heavily by his fixations; polar exploration and his "passionate enthusiasm for the dangerous mysteries of ocean" are lifelong special interests for him. He refers to his voyage as "the favourite dream of my early years", and also developed a love for poetry from a young age:

[...] for the first fourteen years of my life I ran wild on a common and read nothing but our Uncle Thomas’ books of voyages. At that age I became acquainted with the celebrated poets of our own country;

When he is forbidden for pursuing a seafaring life by his father, and in doing so prevented from indulging his main interests, Walton becomes fixated solely on literature, attempting to become a poet himself:

These visions faded when I perused, for the first time, those poets whose effusions entranced my soul and lifted it to heaven. I also became a poet and for one year lived in a paradise of my own creation; I imagined that I also might obtain a niche in the temple where the names of Homer and Shakespeare are consecrated.

Interestingly, when he fails to achieve his literary goal, his attention seemingly switches seamlessly back to his previous interests when he is finally given the opportunity to pursue them - jumping between hyperfixations in search of dopamine is often experienced by many with ADHD:

You are well acquainted with my failure and how heavily I bore the disappointment. But just at that time I inherited the fortune of my cousin, and my thoughts were turned into the channel of their earlier bent.

Walton claims that he is “practically industrious—painstaking, a workman to execute with perseverance and labour” but this mostly seems applicable when he can hyperfocus on tasks that are stimulating to him and related to his interests - for example, when he prepares for his voyage while working on whaling ships:

I often worked harder than the common sailors during the day and devoted my nights to the study of mathematics, the theory of medicine, and those branches of physical science from which a naval adventurer might derive the greatest practical advantage.

— HYPERACTIVITY, IMPULSIVITY AND RESTLESSNESS

i mean. i think most people would consider sailing off to explore as-yet unknown and extremely dangerous parts of the world completely of your own volition impulsive no matter how long you've been planning to do it

Even so, Walton seems to display a reduced sense of danger even upon "the commencement of an enterprise which you [Margaret] have regarded with such evil forebodings":

These are my enticements, and they are sufficient to conquer all fear of danger or death and to induce me to commence this laborious voyage with the joy a child feels when he embarks in a little boat, with his holiday mates, on an expedition of discovery up his native river.

Walton's hyperactivity can be seen in his innate restlessness and never wanting to feel “settled” or too comfortable:

My life might have been passed in ease and luxury, but I preferred glory to every enticement that wealth placed in my path.

His wanderlust drives him forward, literally physically sending him to places very few have ever been:

[...] there is a love for the marvellous, a belief in the marvellous, intertwined in all my projects, which hurries me out of the common pathways of men, even to the wild sea and unvisited regions I am about to explore.

To me, this line indicates that Walton has an awareness of his own overwhelming eagerness (and tbh this is also how I would describe what my own ADHD feels like sometimes):

I am too ardent in execution and too impatient of difficulties.

Walton also seems prone to excessive talking and infodumping, demonstrated even by the act of sending his sister such long and detailed letters in the first place. He is a grade A yapper and that is why we even have the story in the first place!

My favourite evidence of this is when Walton is so taken by the romantic story of his ship's master that he derails his entire letter to his sister to tell her about it, saying:

This, briefly, is his story.

Reader: the story was not brief.

My swelling heart involuntarily pours itself out thus.

you don't say!

— POOR PLANNING AND PRIORITISATION

Despite committing himself to his voyage for six years and having thought of it for much longer, Walton doesn't seem to have uh. much of an actual concrete plan:

I do not intend to sail until the month of June; and when shall I return? Ah, dear sister, how can I answer this question? If I succeed, many, many months, perhaps years, will pass before you and I may meet. If I fail, you will see me again soon, or never.

In relation to this, let me just leave this extract from Jessica Richard's article '“A paradise of my own creation”: Frankenstein and the improbable romance of polar exploration' here:

Shelley subtly indicates Walton’s incompetence as an expedition leader (despite his extensive reading and apprenticeships on Greenland whaling vessels) when she has him begin his journey on a rather late date, July 7th. Whether Walton is simply a poor planner, or, as Frankenstein himself fears, he “share[s] my madness,” a departure date so late in the season all but dooms his enterprise to failure from the outset. (p. 299)

ouch!

He seems to have little awareness of this aspect of his personality; he assures his sister that:

I shall do nothing rashly: you know me sufficiently to confide in my prudence and considerateness whenever the safety of others is committed to my care.

Yet to Victor, he describes:

how gladly I would sacrifice my fortune, my existence, my every hope, to the furtherance of my enterprise. One man’s life or death were but a small price to pay for the acquirement of the knowledge which I sought[...]

Not only does he neglect his duties as captain to care for Victor, even while his ship is imperilled by pack ice…

Thus has a week passed away, while I have listened to the strangest tale that ever imagination formed. My thoughts and every feeling of my soul have been drunk up by the interest for my guest which this tale and his own elevated and gentle manners have created.

… he is highly averse to abandoning his voyage even when his crew threatens mutiny:

We were immured in ice and should probably never escape, but they feared that if, as was possible, the ice should dissipate and a free passage be opened, I should be rash enough to continue my voyage and lead them into fresh dangers, after they might happily have surmounted this. They insisted, therefore, that I should engage with a solemn promise that if the vessel should be freed I would instantly direct my course southwards. This speech troubled me. I had not despaired, nor had I yet conceived the idea of returning if set free.

oh robert........

— EMOTIONAL DYSREGULATION AND SOCIAL DIFFICULTIES

This seems to be a persistent issue for Walton; he continually refers to the fluctuation of his own emotions and his inability to regulate them on his own:

My courage and my resolution is firm; but my hopes fluctuate, and my spirits are often depressed.

I have no friend, Margaret: when I am glowing with the enthusiasm of success, there will be none to participate my joy; if I am assailed by disappointment, no one will endeavour to sustain me in dejection.

He is deeply desirous of understanding and community with others, but is left feeling lonely and like an outsider, having difficulty connecting with most people including the men he sails with:

A youth passed in solitude, my best years spent under your gentle and feminine fosterage, has so refined the groundwork of my character that I cannot overcome an intense distaste to the usual brutality exercised on board ship:

Walton implies that he is insecure of aspects of his personality, and is in need of external validation and someone to “sympathise with and love” him:

How would such a friend repair the faults of your poor brother!

Lastly, this line appears in the 1831 version of the novel only but it is one that, for me, ties together a lot of the book's themes especially with regard to neurodiversity and is generally one of the most affecting for me personally for that reason:

There is something at work in my soul which I do not understand.

me too, buddy. me too

aaaaaaaand that's all(!) i have to say for now

most of this is really just based on my own experiences and traits (am i projecting? absolutely. but am i correct? also yes) and just my own interpretation and i’m sure i’ve left out SO much but i had fun putting my hyperfix spinterest hat on and hopefully it was interesting to read! let me know your thoughts!

[rogerswifesblog]

Help you out

My Masterlist

A/N: hi! This idea is inspirited by a tiktok I saw about a woman leaking because she saw a baby cry in a movie 🤣🤣 so, yeah… Read the warning!!!! Not your thing? Just skip this one shot:)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary; the avengers have a movie night together and a baby cries on screen. Reader, having given birth a few months ago, is very sensitive to baby cries…her breasts start leaking and Steve comes to help…

Warinings: past pregnancy, mentioned reader having a child, father unknown (mentioned ons), leaking breasts, lactation kink, breast milk, mommy kink, daddy kink, p in v, breeding kink, slight pregnancy kink, multiple creampies, mentioned stretch marks (once)

18+

You leaned your head against Steve’s shoulders, while watching the movie. It wasn’t really exciting, but you enjoyed being close to Steve. It wasn’t a secret (well, actually it was) that you liked Steve. A lot. Only Natasha knew-she was the one that stood you by when you found out about your pregnancy, when you explained to her that you didn’t remember your daughters fathers name and that it was a drunken one night stand. After that your and Steve’s friendship kind of…you couldn’t explain it. Nothing changed, but everything was so different.

Sighing you closed your eyes, slowly burying your face in the soft material of Steve’s sweater-but then what you’ve feared most happened.

A baby wailing.

You immediately felt your breasts wetting your maternity bra and the shirt you were wearing. Even Steve’s sleeve, since you had been cuddling with him. “Fuck”, you whispered, grabbing you breasts to stop the milk flowing, but it didn’t help much. “I’ll be right back-“, with that you disappeared, quickly walking to the bathroom.

The team watched you go, all slightly confused. All besides Natasha, Wanda and Steve. Both women knew how the body of a mother worked, especially with a crying baby, even if it wasn’t yours. And Steve…Steve smelled it. Felt it. The sweet smell of your milk, the warm feeling when it wetted his sleeve. Fuck. His dick hardened and he had to pull the blanket higher over his crotch.

He really tried not to think about your sweet milk, how your breasts looked when they leaked…

It took him a few minutes till he finally felt his dick calm down and you still weren’t back. Maybe you went feeding your baby? But he didn’t think you’d extra wake your girl up, especially when she finally had fallen asleep. You had said yourself you hoped she’d sleep through most of the night.

“I’ll get her”, he mumbled not to disturb the movie and went to your room. Since he couldn’t find you there and the bathroom door was closed, he guessed you were there. “Are you okay? Can I come in?”, he knocked and opened the door after hearing you let him in.

His gaze fell onto your naked breasts and he felt himself blush immediately. “Oh-I-sorry-I thought you said yes-“ “I did, Steve, it’s fine. You’ve seen me feed her so many times, I don’t care about it anymore-I just-I can’t find my pumps-but ugh, I have so much milk. She didn’t eat a lot today and now I feel so, so full”, you whined, your nipples still leaking occasionally, while you tried to find your pumps which you always had in your cabinet.

Where the fuck did you put them?

You noticed how Steve was still staring at your breasts. They looked so heavy. So full. So…god, he felt his dick stiffen again. That was so embarrassing. Was he being a weirdo? But your breasts looked so good. He wanted to grab them. Maybe bury his face in them…lick your nipples, taste- ““Steve-don’t look at them like that. It’s like you’ve never seen boobs before-” “I haven’t seen leaking boobs”, Steve you idiot. Where was this brain to mouth filter when you needed it. It definitely never worked for Steve. Especially in situations where it would be very much important to think before talking.

Steve’s cheeks turned a darker shade of red and even you felt blood rush to your cheeks. A soft smile escaped your lips. “And now what? You wanna touch them?”, you didn’t expect for Steve to actually lift his hand, but he quickly pulled away, blushing even deeper. “Sorry I-I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It’s like my brain isn’t…yhm…braining”, he mumbled, his eyes still on your tits. It looked like they were leaking even more than before. And when he took a deep breath the sweet smell was there, too. Sometimes he hated his enhanced abilities. Especially in the city, it was always overwhelming but now…fuck, he loved it. He could smell you.

Slowly you turned around, dripping your arms at your sides. Steve licked his lips, looking at your heavy breasts, their size definitely changed since before your pregnancy. From small and perky to more..heavy hanging and also bigger.

“If you want…you can touch, I mean…but…I’m sensitive and…well, leaking”, you mumbled, watching as Steve stepped a bit closer. Your breath hitched when he slowly lifted his hand, so close to touch and yet not close enough. You haven’t been intimate with anyone since…you found out about your pregnancy. Which definitely was a long time. You had a crush on Steve for the past three years, so it made your excitement even more when he finally cupped your breasts gently. It’s not how you imagined his hands on you for the first time, but it didn’t matter. It’s probably the first and also last time that he touches you that way-and you’d enjoy it for as long as it would last.

A quiet gasp escaped your lips when his thumb rubbed over your wet nipple, while he put his other hand under your breast to feel the weight of it in his palm. “Fuck…feels so different from other breasts, can I-“, before he finished the question he squeezed your breast lightly, some of your milk dripping from your nipple. Since you had closed your eyes, you didn’t notice it happening. It just felt so good being touched like this. Having someone lift your heavy breasts. The weight gone, the soreness in your shoulder immediately being reduced.

While you weren’t watching Steve gently let go of one of your breasts, lifting his milk covered hand to his mouth, licking it away. When you heard the licking and quiet slurping, you opened your eyes in surprise.

Steve was licking your milk from his finger away.

When he felt your gaze, his cheeks became scarlet once again. “Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable..just…curious…M’sorry”, he mumbled behind his palm.

You bit your bottom lip, slowly looking down at your breasts, then back at Steve. “And…is it…like…good?”, you asked quietly, maybe even slightly insecure. Steve nodded immediately, looking at your breasts again, before back to your curious eyes. “Hell yeah, so good-like….like almond? Maybe? It reminds me of almond”, he mumbled, stepping a bit closer, till your nipples touched his shirt.

He grabbed your hips, lifting you on the cabinet next to the sink. A squeak escaped your lips from the quick movements. A grin crept onto his lips. “Let…let me help you. I can tell your breasts are heavy…they hurt, huh? So full…and tender…Let Daddy help you”, he whispered into your ear, licking over your lips (and risking your friendship at this moment.) He actually surprised himself, but now he couldn’t take it back anymore.

“Steve-yes, fuck, yes, yes, yes”, you whispered, pressing yourself against him, wrapping your arms and legs around him. The blond looked at you for a moment, your eyes, then to your lips, before leaning down, pressing his lips to yours. You brushed your hand into his hair, pulling him even closer, deepening the kiss. Feeling his lips against your made your heartbeat quicken, a warmth spreading in your chest.

After a few more long moments you pulled away, needing to breathe again. Steve immediately started kissing your neck, leaving rosy suck marks behind, before kissing down to your breasts. He looked up at you for a moment, making sure you were still okay with it-and fuck, you were so okay with it.

He licked teasingly over your breast, circling your nipple, before closing his lips around it, sucking gently. A moan escaped your lips, while you grabbed Steve’s hair, pushing him even closer, unknowingly rubbing your crotch against his hard bulge. Only then did you notice he was hard as a rock.

Steve rutted against you, the taste of your milk filling his mouth and making him feral. It tasted better than he imagined. He couldn’t stop himself from sucking harder, pulling at your nipple, grabbing your breast and squeezing to get more milk out. His mouth was so full of your milk, he felt it leak from the corners of his mouth. There was so much. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He grinded his hard dick even harder into your pulsing heat. “Steve-Daddy, fuck me”, you whined into his hair opening his pants with one hand. A moan escaped his lips when you pushed his boxershorts down, wrapping your fingers around his shaft, stroking him. He let go of your nipple, glancing at you from under his eyelashes. He licked over his lips, licking away the drops that didn’t make it into his mouth. “Is that so, mommy? Want me to fuck you?”, he grinded, kissing you once again, helping you out of your pants and panties, nearly ripping them from your body.

When your gaze fell onto his hard cock you gasped. “Steve-I don’t think you’ll fit. You’d be the first after-after I gave birth and-holy Jesus, I’m pretty sure my stitches are healed but-but you’re-like-really big”, a quiet laugh interrupted your rambling, while Steve started stroking himself. “I’ll be gentle…promise, but do you have a condom?”, he kissed your cheeks gently, his other hand slowly trailing from your breasts down to your core. He bit his bottom lip feeling how drenched you were, slowly entering you with one of his thick fingers.

For a moment you completely forgot his question, but when he repeated it, you slowly shook your head. “It’s-its fine-I’m on the pill”, you mumbled, overwhelmed by the single finger he was pressing into your wet core. It felt so, so good…

When he curled his finger, hitting your sensitive spot, your whole body twitched, your breasts jiggling with the movement. “You’re making me crazy, sweetheart. Let me taste you again, mommy. Wanna drink your milk..tastes so good”, he mumbled, before sucking the neglanced nipple into his mouth, his taste buds being hit with your sweet milk again. “So fucking good”, he m whispered against your skin, the sound of sucking and slurping following.

At this point he had drunk so much of your milk, he really felt it filling his tummy, warm and sweet. He could do this all day.

Another moan escaped your lips when he hit the spot again, his palm grinding against your clit, while he slowly added a second finger, now feeling how tight you were. The stretch made you moan into his hair. “Fuck I’ll-I think I’ll come”, you whispered into his hair and just when you finished the sentence, he stated sucking harder, the pleasure overwhelming you. An intense and sudden orgasm overtook you, making you open your mouth in a silent moan, while you pulled Steve’s even more against your breasts.

“Fuck me-fuck mommy, Steve-fuck me Daddy”, you babbled, while he slowly took out his fingers, to replace them with his hard cock. You quickly grabbed his wrist, pulling his fingers to your lips, and licking your arousal from them. A quiet ‘fuck’ escaped Steve’s lips when he lifted his head to watch you. “Are you sure about the condom?”, he whispered again, because…until now he had never fucked someone without a condom. And the thought alone made his cock twitch and leak against your already wet folds.

You nodded again, wrapping your legs even tighter around his waist, the mushroom head already pushing into your drenched cunt. “I want you to fuck your cum into me, daddy. Fuck me, fuck me please”, you whispered kissing his neck. “I want to feel it leak out of me when we get back to the living room-want to be marked. Come on daddy-“, he could stop himself from thrust a bit into you, making you gasp loudly.

“You’ll be the death of me, mommy. Gonna fuck you so good. Gonna come so many times. Get you all round and full again. You’ll make me a daddy”, he whispered, needing all his self control not to just starting fucking you like an feral animal, pounding your thighs cunt till he’d come in you at least four times. Having your stomach bulging with his cum.

You moaned when his dick rubbed along your soft spot perfectly. “Steve-yes-get me all round and stuffed full”, you gasped. Steve could already imagine seeing your tummy big and round again. This time with his child.

“Gonna fuck you so good, mommy”, with that he bottomed out, giving you a bit time to adjust. His fingers circled your clit, till you were a moaning and shaking mess. His lips wrapped once again around your nipple, sucking harsher than before, wanting to get all the sweet nectar out of you.

“Move Steve-Daddy move-and don’t fucking stop till you’ve at least two loads fucked into me”, you moaned. And that’s when you finally broke his self control. He pulled his dick to the top out, pushing hard back into you, repeating it again, again, again and again…

Your moans making him thrust faster, harder, till the whole cabinet started hitting the wall but he didn’t give a shit. He didn’t even care if the team heard it. He was on a fucking mission. (Ha)

He braced himself with one hand against the wall, the other one holding your hips, his thrusts felt now even harder than before. “Oh my-Daddy-I’m-fuck I’m coming”, it surprised you when you squirted all over Steve’s pants and the cabinet underneath you, your cunt tightening around him. Him being still fully dressed, while you were completely naked made you feel…something. You couldn’t explain how you felt.

A loud moan escaped his chest when he started filling your cunt with his seed, without stopping pounding into you. His cum leaking around his dick, but he didn’t care, the squelching sounded louder than before.

You held into his back with one hand, the other one braced against the cabinet, while Steve fucked you. Your soft spot feeling way over stimulated but it felt so good, you couldn’t stop.

Only after two more orgasm from Steve and another one from you, he started slowing down, only grinding his hips into you. “Now let me suck those tits again”, he grinned against your neck, before doing as told. Your breathing was heavy, uneven, your heartbeat racing. Did this..all really happened? Wow.

After a few more minutes Steve let your nipple out of his mouth with a loud ‘pop’, before also pulling out. You immediately felt empty-feeling the cum that was leaking out of you.

Steve bit his bottom lip, when he looked down at his cum coated dick, before looking back to you. “Can I see?”, he whispered, making you raise your eyebrows. “Wha’ you wanna see?”, you mumbled tiredly.

His cheeks blushed. He fucking blushed.

“I’ve never…you know, without a condom”, he grinned, gently pushing your knees apart. “But Steve I’m not as pretty anymore down there- you know from-“ “yeah I know how you feel about it, but I still think you’re beautiful. You made a life in your stomach and pushed it out-anyone who’d shame you about would be a total asshole”, he whispered, kissing your lips gently. The soft taste of your milk still on them.

So you slowly lifted your legs a bit more, feeling the blush creeping onto your face. Steve bit his bottom lip, looking at your cum drenched folds, slightly gaping hole and-. “Your stitches are all fine. They are definitely hea-“ “Steve! I would’ve checked myself!”, you scolded him, feeling your face heat up even more, while you swatted his arm. The blond grinned, shrugging and holding your legs up when you wanted to close them. “I’m already looking, so the least I can do is let you know.”

You kicked him for that comment, making him only laugh more.

After he gently helped you from the counter, you felt more cum leak out of your pussy onto your thighs. You didn’t mean to, but you grimaced slightly, looking back at Steve, who had a slightly possessive-maybe even predatory-glimmer in his eyes. “You’re so fucking beautiful”, he whispered, his hand stroking over your stomach, right over your stretch marks.

A blush crept onto your lips and you put your arms around him, your hands sliding underneath his shirt. He kissed your head. “Let’s ditch the movie and take a bath, hm, sweetheart? Afterwards we can lay down and…talk a bit about what happened. I don’t want it to be a one time thing”, he whispered into your hair, pulling you a bit closer into his warm embrace.

BONUS

In the morning you woke up alone in bed, but you could hear Steve’s quiet whisper from the other corner of your bedroom. “Come on little girl, we don’t want to wake your mommy with crying, huh? Give me a little smile-exactly, yeah, now we can go get her”, you opened your eyes, watching as Steve gently swayed your babygirl in his arms, turning to your bed.

When he noticed you were awake, a shy smile crept onto his lips. “I-sorry if you dont want me to do it, it’s just; I woke before you and heard her start sniffing so I thought I could try to keep her from crying. She’s probably hungry”, he said, while sitting next to you, helping you sit up with one hand. Your little babygirl fitting perfectly in his arm.

“Hungry? Let’s hope there’s something left after your appetite”, the comment made Steve blush, now you could see the blush creeping from his chest to his cheeks. After the night your breasts were already heavy-not as much as yesterday, but definitely enough. Your baby’s cries stopped when she latched onto your nipple, sucking greedy.

You didn’t even notice Steve’s fond gaze on the two of you.

Steve kissed your cheeks, before standing up again. “I’ll get us some breakfast-“ “I’ll come with you, just give me a few minutes.”

So he waited till you and your girl were ready and dressed, him also putting on sweatpants and a shirt, before walking to the kitchen, where the team sat.

When you two entered the kitchen, all gazes were on you. Clint and Bruce seemed nearly frightened, pale as ghosts, Natasha, Bucky and Tony were smirking, Wanda avoided your gaze and Thor grinned like always.

“I hope the cabinet is still standing-“ “Tony!”

Well….👀

Thank you for reading! Leave some feedback and let me know how you liked it! Don’t forget to comment and reblog!! Support your writers<3

Tags: @inlovewithchrisevans

Wanna be on my taglist? Be active (leaving feedback and reblogging:)) and let me know

Flood my inbox with HC, Drabble/OS ideas or questions! Just whatever you want to leave there! Anons welcome 😋

❤️

[theswedishcatlord101]

(Blog intro)

“Greetings, I am the ruler of this kingdom. My name is Kottyo A.L but many prefer to call me The Swedish Cat Lord.”

Minor! Artist and inspiriting animator. Bday: June 27th

“I have to alert you about my kingdom’s rules, failure to obey these will lead to banishment.”

I am asexual and under 18 so sexual things are not allowed here, I don’t do commissions, proshipping, racism ableism homophobia transphobia etc will obviously NOT be allowed. Donation asks will be deleted, i can’t donate.

“Now that we’ve got that out of the way, let’s lighten the mood, shall we? Let me tell you about what i enjoy.”

I really like cats, fpe, object shows, art, furries, animation, and cute ships

“I do draw a lot, would you like to see?”

“I’ve drawn up some characters too. I think I can list some…”

My FPE OCs:

More of them here @askmyfpeocs

my comic(calls of the stars) OCs:

Read at @callsofthestarsblog.

“I ramble much, so if you want to hear my thoughts go to this part of my kingdom.” (@cheesekillerborg36)

I made the Fpe au “Based off the wiki” and “Fpe Hospital Au”(Pinterest board here) ask blog: @askpaperhospital

“Call me whatever I don’t mind!”

I use any pronouns, I am genderfluid and panromantic.

“It’s been nice to meet you! And if you ever wish to join my kingdom, feel free to do.”

if you follow you join my cat kingdom!

My other social media/other platforms:

Pinterest

Unvale

Youtube

Strawpage

Wattpad

Pixilart

[fairestar]

affirmations enchiridion · volume IV : studies and hobbies.

𐙚 enchiridion: a handbook; manual.ㅤ𐙚 affirmation: the assertion that something exists or is true.ㅤ✷ this post is part of a series, you can check the previous ones here (self concept), here (overall life), and here (personality and appearance), or go to #enchiridion in my blog.

· i am pure knowledge:

i am enlightened. i am imaginative. i am astute and resourceful. i am brilliant. i am well-read. i am perspicacious. i am the embodiment of knowledge and excellence. i am all-knowing.

everything i study is like a tree, it takes root in my mind and never leaves me. no subject or topic is ever too hard for me to understand. it never takes me long to comprehend any course. studying is effortless, quick and easy. i have a complete grasp over every class. i sincerely enjoy studying.

i am always completely focused while studying. nothing can ever distract me. thoughts flow seamlessly from one to the other when i am working on assignments. i can quickly make connections between different ideas and topics as to come up with the perfect solution for a problem. i am perpetually full of energy and determination to study. i am free from feeling fatigued or burnt-out. i feel exceptionally happy, accomplished and calm while studying. i am forever motivated.

i excel in everything. i constantly get full marks on all exams. i always know the right answer to any question. no matter what topic it is, i know exactly what to do. i am relaxed and confident while taking tests. i fully comprehend every question. i can easily solve complex math problems. i can smoothly express my ideas and thoughts. i am effortlessly eloquent and can write praise-worthy work.

· i am the one that inspires:

i am gifted. i am creative. i am a visionary. i am original. i am incomparable. i am unheard-of. i am forever inspired.

i am a naturally artistic and creative person. my imaginativeness is limitless. i am a prodigy in every activity and field. i can do and perform anything without much effort. i am a natural at everything. i can sing, i can dance, i can play any instrument, i can write, i can recite, i can do whatever it is i want and be perfect at it.

i am talented. i am proficient. i am distinguished. i am illustrious. i am demiurgic. i am celebrated. i am the one that reaches people's hearts with their work.

i can successfully turn all my ideas into reality. every one of my conceptions is authentic and completely new to the world. all of my endeavours are forever successful and well received. i inspirit everyone around me. every person who ever comes across my work will for evermore be transformed by it, they will everlastingly carry it with them.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ© fairestar, 2023.

[whencyclopedia]

John André

Major John André (1750-1780) was a British military officer who served in the American Revolutionary War (1775-1783). He is best known for negotiating with the American turncoat Benedict Arnold, who offered to hand over the stronghold of West Point. The plot was exposed when André was captured behind American lines, leading to his execution as a spy.

Early Life

John André was born on 2 May 1750 in London, England, to a family of wealthy Protestant immigrants. His father, Antoine André, was a prosperous merchant originally from Geneva, Switzerland, while his mother, Marie-Louise Girardot, was French. He was the eldest of five siblings; he had three sisters, Mary Hannah (b. 1752), Anne Marguerite (b. 1753), and Louisa Catherine (b. 1754), and a brother, William Louis (b. 1760). John was initially educated at Westminster School but was eventually sent to study mathematics and military drawing at the Academy of Geneva. He excelled at academics and showed proficiency in languages; by his late teens, he was fluent in English, French, German, and Italian. Yet his true passion rested in the arts. André would spend most of his free time sketching or painting, writing poetry and short plays, and playing the flute.

André returned to London in 1767 and longed to join the British army, which he saw as a chance to see the world and break free from the middle-class life to which he felt condemned. His father, however, had other plans, and put him to work in his countinghouse, hoping that John would one day inherit the family business. André dutifully worked for his father for two years until April 1769, when Antoine André died at the age of 52. Later that year, André accompanied his mother and sisters on vacation to Buxton Spa in Derbyshire, hoping that the trip would ease their grief.

It was on this trip that André became acquainted with Anna Seward, a noted poet who ran a literary salon out of her father's lodgings in Bishop's Palace in Lichfield. Seward invited André to Lichfield, where she introduced him to her childhood friend and poetic muse, the beautiful, yet reserved, 17-year-old Honora Sneyd. Seward doted on Sneyd and described her as "fresh and beautiful as the young day-star, when he bathes his fair beams in the dews of spring" (Seward, cxvii). André was quickly smitten with the girl and would often find excuses to be in her company. Although some scholars contend that Seward had romantic feelings for Sneyd herself, she appears to have aided André in his suit, reading love poems aloud as André and Sneyd dreamily held hands.

Before long, André proposed to Sneyd, but her father disapproved of the match, viewing André as too poor; he said that he would accept their engagement only if André gave up his military ambitions and instead devoted his time to making as much money as possible. Viewing a glimmer of hope, André raced back to London and plunged diligently back to work in the countinghouse. All the while, the lovesick André wrote letters to Honora, describing how much he hated life as a merchant but tolerated it because of his love for her:

When an impertinent consciousness whispers in my ear that I am not of the right stuff for a merchant, I draw my Honora's picture from my bosom, and the sight of that dear talisman so inspirits my industry that no toil appears oppressive. (Sargent, 15)

Within a few months, Sneyd's father grew impatient and became convinced that André would never make enough money. He abruptly broke off their engagement. Distance had perhaps cooled Sneyd's feelings for André, as she did not protest too strongly and was soon being courted by other men. Heartbroken, André decided there was nothing left for him in London. After working a little longer to provide money for his family, he purchased a commission in the British Army on 4 March 1771. He was selected for special training in Germany, where he spent two years before being assigned to the Royal Fusiliers (7th Regiment of Foot) as a second lieutenant. In 1774, André was sent across the Atlantic to join his regiment in Quebec, a deployment from which he would never return.

Continue reading...

[mountainshroom]

hallå dear artist.

I am here again to tell you that one of your medic drawings served me as inspiritation to draw him myself. I don't draw and so I had to stick close to how you drew him, but I am endlessly thankful that you posted your drawings of him.

I am proud of how it turned out (for someone who doesn't draw, like, ever) but too shy to post publicly so yeah you'll just have to believe me.

I hope you don't take offense that I drew your medic. I just really like and relate to your artstyle and think it fits tf2 perfectly

sending many thanks.

Man I am getting emotional a bit reading this 🥹

thank you so so much, like I’ve never thought my art would be a possible inspiration for anybody before but this makes me think maybe otherwise. I’m so happy to hear you relate to my artstyle on that level!

And I’m NOT offended at all, I’m seriously honoured you liked my Medic fanart that much oh wow!! Thats so awesome I hope you keep drawing the silly doktor and anything else you ever feel like to your hearts content

Much love to you dear new artist, thank you again

[blessedarethebinarybreakers]

Ash Wednesday, Isaiah 6, and the blessing in our limitations

Painting by Justin Simmons.

(If you're interested in listening to this post instead of reading it, I also shared this on my podcast, Blessed Are the Binary Breakers.)

I said, “Mourn for me; I’m ruined! I’m a man with unclean lips, and I live among a people with unclean lips. Yet I’ve seen the king, the Lord of heavenly forces!” Then one of the winged creatures flew to me, holding a glowing coal that ze had taken from the altar with tongs. Ze touched my mouth and said, “See, this has touched your lips. Your guilt has departed, and your sin is removed.” - Isaiah 6:5-7

Did the glowing coal leave a mark? A smear of dark? A bright burn?

Reading this text on Ash Wednesday, I can’t help but connect Isaiah’s coal and our ashy crosses:

He confesses himself unclean — admits his limits, where he and his people have failed.

We profess ourselves dust — acknowledge our limits, the finite time we have here and now, and how often we’ve failed to cherish that time.

In the confession, we open ourselves to blessing. Accepting our limits, we fall into God’s limitless love.

Why these physical, ritual actions — coal to the lips, ashes to the brow — to mark these limits and the blessings they yield?

God knows, respects, loves our existence as embodied spirits, inspirited bodies. She pairs spiritual gifts with tangible signs to help us experience Her truths with our whole selves.

A glowing coal — dead plants packed deep, transformed over eons, unburied at last and set alight — touches truth-telling lips to set them free.

Ashes of palm branches once waved in worship, burned down to begin the cycle anew, mark us as individually finite, but gathered into an infinite love.

Take time to prayerfully consider your own limits. What blessings, what liberation can you imagine flowing from our individual finitude? How can you connect your limited time and gifts to a greater whole, in small ways with great love?

- Shared on Daily Ripple for 14 Feb, 2024

[dross-the-fish]

I was reading through Frankenstein and I have some thoughts about the way Victor tends to talk about the creature in certain instances.

When the Creature says "I will be with you on your wedding night," Victor assumes the creature is going to kill him, it never occurs to him that Elizabeth is the one in danger, even though the Creature has made it clear that his goal is to make Victor miserable, not to kill him.

When Elizabeth dies Victor takes a very peculiar perspective,

"as if possessed of magic powers, the monster had blinded me to his real intentions"

No Victor, he didn't. You were simply wrong. Or maybe you were in denial. Of all the things you can rightfully blame the Creature for he didn't blind you to his intentions or obfuscate his motivations. He's been pretty straight with you this whole time. "I will make you so miserable the light of day will be hateful to you," is pretty clear cut. If he'd wanted you dead he'd have killed you in the shack.

The whole thing about Victor having no idea that Elizabeth could possibly the one in danger, especially following the death of Henry Clerval has always stood out to me as a prime example of Victor's self-centeredness.

I think Victor also knows this and we do have to keep in mind that Victor is telling this story to Robert Walton and possibly is trying to remove any culpability he himself could be assigned for Elizabeth's death because "blinding him to his intentions as if by magic," makes the Creature look worse and Victor look less like there was anything he could have done to prevent it.

It speaks a lot about how much of Victor's perspective on the Creature's maliciousness is assumptive and how eager Victor is to assign the Creature qualities he doesn't actually have. Victor was ready to accuse the Creature of killing William without any evidence whatsoever. He turned out to be right, but he still didn't know that when he made the accusation. He has a tendency to describe the Creature in ways that make him look as bad as possible.

This is a thing Victor doesn't actually need to do because the Creature has already killed people and he's a pretty vicious bastard. You don't HAVE to make him look worse, Victor, he's done enough to do that on his own.

Victor also attributes the food provided to him on his chase to good spirits rather than the creature because he refuses to either believe or acknowledge that the Creature is capable of any action that could be interpreted as benevolent. I can't fully blame him for this, given that the creature killed his whole family, but it does show how narrow-minded Victor can be and I feel it lends credence to interpretations of him as an unreliable narrator. Moments like this and his insistence that his family is a happy one kind of seal it for me that Victor isn't being 100% honest with either Walton or himself.

"I was cursed by some devil and carried about with me my eternal hell; yet still a spirit of good followed and directed my steps and when I most murmured would suddenly extricate me from seemingly insurmountable difficulties. Sometimes, when nature, overcome by hunger, sank under the exhaustion, a repast was prepared for me in the desert that restored and inspirited me. The fare was, indeed, coarse, such as the peasants of the country ate, but I will not doubt that it was set there by the spirits that I had invoked to aid me"

Victor those aren't spirits, that's the Creature making sure your ass doesn't die. I don't even think he's doing it out of any kind of sense of generosity, he just wants you alive so he can keep tormenting you. also "The fare was, indeed, coarse, such as peasants ate" really? You're going to bitch about the quality food? God he annoys me sometimes.

[inspiritsafety]

Warm wishes on National Reading Day to everyone. Reading is a beautiful thing that adds new colors of knowledge to our lives.

[burningvelvet]

Some of Mary Shelley’s journal entries from late July 1816 when she, Percy, and Claire toured the Valley of Chamounix and visited the Mer de Glace (Montanvert). The scenery inspired Frankenstein and Percy Shelley’s poem Mont Blanc:

“Tuesday, July 23 (Chamounix). — In the morning, after breakfast, we mount our mules to see the source of the Arveiron. When we had gone about three parts of the way, we descended and continued our route on foot, over loose stones, many of which were an enormous size. We came to the source, which lies (like a stage) surrounded on the three sides by mountains and glaciers. We sat on a rock, which formed the fourth, gazing on the scene before us. An immense glacier was on our left, which continually rolled stones to its[Pg 145] foot. It is very dangerous to be directly under this. Our guide told us a story of two Hollanders who went, without any guide, into a cavern of the glacier, and fired a pistol there, which drew down a large piece on them. We see several avalanches, some very small, others of great magnitude, which roared and smoked, overwhelming everything as it passed along, and precipitating great pieces of ice into the valley below. This glacier is increasing every day a foot, closing up the valley. We drink some water of the Arveiron and return. After dinner think it will rain, and Shelley goes alone to the glacier of Boison. I stay at home. Read several tales of Voltaire. In the evening I copy Shelley’s letter to Peacock.”

“Wednesday, July 24. — To-day is rainy; therefore we cannot go to Col de Balme. About 10 the weather appears clearing up. Shelley and I begin our journey to Montanvert. Nothing can be more desolate than the ascent of this mountain; the trees in many places having been torn away by avalanches, and some half leaning over others, intermingled with stones, present the appearance of vast and dreadful desolation. It began to rain almost as soon as we left our inn. When we had mounted considerably we turned to look on the scene. A dense white mist covered the vale, and tops of scattered pines peeping above were the only objects that presented themselves. The rain continued in torrents. We were wetted to the skin; so that, when we had ascended halfway, we resolved to turn back. As we descended, Shelley went before, and, tripping up, fell upon his knee. This added to the weakness occasioned by a blow on his ascent; he fainted, and was for some minutes incapacitated from continuing his route.

We arrived wet to the skin. I read Nouvelles Nouvelles, and write my story. Shelley writes part of letter.”

Excerpts from Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein:

“At length I arrived at the village of Chamounix. Exhaustion succeeded to the extreme fatigue both of body and of mind which I had endured. For a short space of time I remained at the window watching the pallid lightnings that played above Mont Blanc and listening to the rushing of the Arve, which pursued its noisy way beneath. The same lulling sounds acted as a lullaby to my too keen sensations; when I placed my head upon my pillow, sleep crept over me; I felt it as it came and blessed the giver of oblivion.”

“These sublime and magnificent scenes afforded me the greatest consolation that I was capable of receiving. They elevated me from all littleness of feeling, and although they did not remove my grief, they subdued and tranquillised it. In some degree, also, they diverted my mind from the thoughts over which it had brooded for the last month. I retired to rest at night; my slumbers, as it were, waited on and ministered to by the assemblance of grand shapes which I had contemplated during the day. They congregated round me; the unstained snowy mountain-top, the glittering pinnacle, the pine woods, and ragged bare ravine, the eagle, soaring amidst the clouds—they all gathered round me and bade me be at peace.”

“Where had they fled when the next morning I awoke? All of soul-inspiriting fled with sleep, and dark melancholy clouded every thought. The rain was pouring in torrents, and thick mists hid the summits of the mountains, so that I even saw not the faces of those mighty friends. Still I would penetrate their misty veil and seek them in their cloudy retreats. What were rain and storm to me? My mule was brought to the door, and I resolved to ascend to the summit of Montanvert. I remembered the effect that the view of the tremendous and ever-moving glacier had produced upon my mind when I first saw it. It had then filled me with a sublime ecstasy that gave wings to the soul and allowed it to soar from the obscure world to light and joy. The sight of the awful and majestic in nature had indeed always the effect of solemnising my mind and causing me to forget the passing cares of life. I determined to go without a guide, for I was well acquainted with the path, and the presence of another would destroy the solitary grandeur of the scene.”

Mary used some of Percy’s poetry in Frankenstein. Here’s an excerpt from one of Percy Shelley’s most famous poems, Mont Blanc: Lines Written in the Vale of Chamouni:

“Some say that gleams of a remoter world

Visit the soul in sleep, that death is slumber,

And that its shapes the busy thoughts outnumber

Of those who wake and live.—I look on high;

Has some unknown omnipotence unfurl'd

The veil of life and death? or do I lie

In dream, and does the mightier world of sleep

Spread far around and inaccessibly

Its circles? For the very spirit fails,

Driven like a homeless cloud from steep to steep

That vanishes among the viewless gales!

Far, far above, piercing the infinite sky,

Mont Blanc appears—still, snowy, and serene;

Its subject mountains their unearthly forms

Pile around it, ice and rock; broad vales between

Of frozen floods, unfathomable deeps,

Blue as the overhanging heaven, that spread

And wind among the accumulated steeps;

A desert peopled by the storms alone,

Save when the eagle brings some hunter's bone,

And the wolf tracks her there—how hideously

Its shapes are heap'd around! rude, bare, and high,

Ghastly, and scarr'd, and riven.—Is this the scene

Where the old Earthquake-daemon taught her young

Ruin? Were these their toys? or did a sea

Of fire envelop once this silent snow?

None can reply—all seems eternal now.

The wilderness has a mysterious tongue

Which teaches awful doubt, or faith so mild,

So solemn, so serene, that man may be,

But for such faith, with Nature reconcil'd;

Thou hast a voice, great Mountain, to repeal

Large codes of fraud and woe; not understood

By all, but which the wise, and great, and good

Interpret, or make felt, or deeply feel.”

Excerpt of a letter from Percy Shelley to his friend Thomas Love Peacock, July 25th:

“We have returned from visiting the glacier of Montanvert, or as it is called the Sea of Ice, a scene in truth of dizzying wonder. The path that winds to it along the side of a mountain, now clothed with pines, now intersected with snowy hollows, is wide and steep. The cabin of Montanvert is three leagues from Chamouni, half of which distance is performed on mules, not so sure-footed but that on the first day the one which I rode fell in what the guides call a mauvais pas, so that I narrowly escaped being precipitated down the mountain. We passed over a hollow covered with snow, down which vast stones are accustomed to roll. One had fallen the preceding day, a little time after we had returned: our guides desired us to pass quickly, for it is said that sometimes the least sound will accelerate their descent. We arrived at Montanvert, however, safe.

On all sides precipitous mountains, the abodes of unrelenting frost, surround this vale: their sides are banked up with ice and snow, broken, heaped high, and exhibiting terrific chasms. The summits are sharp and naked pin-nacles, whose overhanging steepness will not even permit snow to rest upon them. Lines of dazzling ice occupy here and there their perpendicular rifts, and shine through the driving vapours with inexpressible brilliance: they pierce the clouds like things not belonging to this earth.

The vale itself is filled with a mass of undulating ice, and has an ascent sufficiently gradual even to the remotest abysses of these horrible deserts. It is only half a league (about two miles) in breadth, and seems much less. It exhibits an appearance as if frost had suddenly bound up the waves and whirlpools of a mighty torrent. We walked some distance upon its surface. The waves are elevated about twelve or fifteen feet from the surface of the mass, which is intersected by long gaps of unfathomable depth, the ice of whose sides is more beautifully azure than the sky. In these regions everything changes, and is in motion.

This vast mass of ice has one general progress, which ceases neither day nor night; it breaks and bursts for ever: some undulations sink while others rise; it is never the same. The echo of rocks, or of the ice and snow which fall from their overhanging precipices, or roll from their aerial summits, scarcely ceases for one moment. One would think that Mont Blanc, like the god of the Stoics, was a vast animal, and that the frozen blood for ever circulated through his stony veins.

We dined (M[ary], C[lare], and I) on the grass, in the open air, surrounded by this scene. The air is piercing and clear. We returned down the mountain sometimes encompassed by the driving vapours, sometimes cheered by the sunbeams, and arrived at our inn by seven o'clock.”

[angellurgy2]

finished my first book in years. serious weakness really made me feel smth in my soul. the need for an insul in the manner of. just wanting desire, comforting security of need. then feeling like that specter myself. as someone with aphantasia that rots my brain and such shit retardation it was. hard to read the good descriptions of those. now im left here with just. this husk of having words for what i am what this is, but having nothing to do with it. i think i'll figure out how to kill myself when i can muster the energy, plan to make myself an art piece. rip myself to tatters so someone can be gored anew by the sight. i started writing a story lightly inspired by it, which idk if ill finish in time but its a really inspiriting story, tbh. it made me hope until i realized I'm different. im an even more socially retarded version than trianon or insul. no concept of, that archive of behaviours. and ill keep coiling in on my ineptitude until it must be so, since i have no one and nothing else to lay my energy or being with. i think, the blackness of death might feel better than the black box i see when i close my eyes. a loud but expected reprieval from pain. thank you to everyone who talked about seriweak, it definitely changed my outlook a bit before shit falls through. it really makes me wanna remake myself, yknow. into something boyish and victimly, but a person. something with feeling. something that can love and be loved, in whatever fucked up way it manifests. if i had the time, and the love. i have the hope but not the rest.