#wish i had the power the guts the ability to end it i wish i could tell pe9pple how i feel i dont deserve to talk topeople i wish i could im

[lilacgaby]

title: awaken.

pairing: barbarian!bakugo x goddess!reader,

synopsisꨄ. you've been asleep all this time, who knew a barbarian would be the one to awaken you?

(extended ver of this)

as katsuki wandered through the never ending forest, he let the words of the elders ring through his head. "you'll never be anything more than a placeholder for the next king."

he set off, destined to prove himself, show that he was worth more than any of them could predict. his father was worried and heartbroken at his sudden departure, but his mother understood that he'd need to do this now, or he'd never forgive himself.

the first thing he did as he set off was to secure food for the night. he eyed a group of hogs, all large and heavy, perfect for feeding him throughout the night. he grabbed the bow out of his satchel and aimed it at the largest one, which landed perfectly in his target's head. he couldn't help but to let out a celebratory laugh as it fell to the ground, making the hogs around it scurry off into the forest.

that seemed to be the last of his luck for the day. he now wished he chose a different day to set off, as the rains and winds were heavy, it was impossible to set up camp in the forest as it was. suddenly, through the curtains of heavy greenery, he saw an abandoned structure. he'd prefer anything to the harsh conditions mother nature set out on him now, so he cut through the vines as he made his way into the structure.

it was grand inside, he thought. he couldn't see very well thanks to the darkness brought on by the rains, but from what he could see it must have been a place of high regard in its peak.

he lit a torch, carrying it as he continued on into the structure. he determined it had been a church in its old days, long forgotten due to.. well he didn't figure that part out yet.

he bumped into a object that resembled a bench, besides the old candle wax, fresh leaves, and golden statutes he saw littering it. he made a mental note to take those with him as he organized his things onto the bench.

he laid his wine down first, a treat he'd enjoy on the way back to his kingdom. next, he laid down his clothes he planned to change into. though he was a barbarian, and by nature they did not wear many clothes, katsuki knew the trip would require such clothing, so he brought the best.

his next item was the huge hog he'd caught earlier. he lugged it on to the bench-like object, thinking of how it was a perfect spot to gut and prepare it for his meal later on. speaking of his cooking, he made sure to bring only the finest oils to cook in. he set it down next to the hog, satisfied with his array of items, he'd slumped against the bench, closed his eyes and sighed.

when he opened it again, he saw the shadow of a person moving behind him. alarmed, he readied his other weapon he always kept on his side, his blade welded by his mother.

though, his blade was dropped out of his hand at the sight. his jaw went slack, eyes wide, and the sudden urge to worship overcame him as he finally saw who was behind him.

a gorgeous.. deity? who glowed with an luminous essence, who adorned pointed ears, heavy amounts of gold, a silk dress that encapsulated your body, and an unreadable expression as you sifted through his items.

the ability to speak was taken from him, he felt as if he was at your mercy, and he was. he was on his knees before he could process it.

your hands glided through the items he had placed on the bench, after you finished looking through the group, you finally spared him a glance.

"your gifts are of high value," you spoke, your voice royal, with an unimaginable presence. "i'm not as powerful as i used to be, my temple and followers were lost to time, my memory faded from the minds of the new." you sauntered over to him now, becoming eye-level with him.

he'd never felt so unworthy.

"i have not much i can give you or do for you, so what would you like from me?"

his ability to speak finalky returned, his mind though, remained blank, so he answered with the only thing on his blank mind:

"your hand."

he immediately rescinded back, never feeling so unnerved and unknowing as he did in this moment. "i- it was an unreasonable request! you-- it's beneath y-"

"that's acceptable. i will go with you, barbarian."

he was shocked as you accepted, though he wouldn't dare question your judgement. "katsuki." he blurted out. "please call me katsuki."

"i will marry you, if it's what you desire katsuki."

his eyes shot open. "yes. i-- it's what i'd like."

"you may call me [name] then." he clutched his heart, he wasn't sure if he was dreaming, but if he was he'd never want it to end.

"alright.. [name]." you smiled at the hesitance in his voice, and waved his worries off with a smile.

"shall we head out then?"

"we can't, the weather is horrible."

"what weather? it's sunny as normal." surely enough, as he turned around the weather had returned to a calm, warm day. the harsh winds and rains no longer present, replaced by the mundane weather.

"i-- i suppose you're correct." he gathered his supplies, even getting your permission to take the things he had on your alter, as he learned it was, back with you two. he slung his satchel behind his back and turned to you.

you held out your hand, and after he placed a chaste kiss on it, he carried you in his arms. the journey back was a blur to him, the burning in his feet nonexistent as he focused on the feeling of his skin on yours, the feeling of his hands on your body.

you arrived sooner then expected. internally, katsuki was excited. not only did he manage to revitalize a goddess, but he'd marry her. he was ecstatic not only at the prospect of beating this into the elders' faces, but to be yours for his eternity.

as he burst back into the conference room, the elders were shocked to see him back so soon. the smug expressions they would've gotten were wiped off the second they noticed you in his arms.

even they, from their distance at their cabinets, could sense the raw presence you had.

"prince bakugo, what is the meaning of this?"

"i've brought to you undeserving folks my wife."

the table of elders all collectively choked at the revelation. "wife? but we've yet to go through the proper trails and period of compatibility. that woman isn't even a barbarian."

"you're right, she's above all of you. she's a deity, and i've earned her hand in marriage. i want my wedding planned for next week, make it fit for a god."

"a deity you say?" the elder's felt like their eyes were about to burst out their sockets. "but--"

they heard nothing as he walked away from the room, you still in his arms. as you eyed the new, strange innovations and buildings around you, katsuki clutched you closer to his chest.

he set you onto a bed, the feeling of silk under your hands one that was foreign, as you hadn't been awakened for over a century.

he knelt in front of you, taking off one of his necklaces, and wordlessly asking for permission to set it on you.

you didn't know this, but this was sacred to the barbarians, presenting one's necklace to another was like talking a piece of your soul and entrusting them with it.

he looked at the sight of you, his ruby necklace with the teeth of the beasts he slayed contrasting severely to the gold you adorned, and he smiled.

you felt your heart go into a knot at the sight of him, he held your hand as he suddenly made a vow to you.

"i vow to be your greatest worshipper. even if i am not the last, i will set a standard that will long exceed my lifespan.

for you are my wife now, and i'll cherish you as long as i may live."

you smiled softly, reaching out to him to hold his other hand. "you've already become my most interesting worshipper, that i'm certain of."

as the two of you basked in each others presence, other gods were smiling upon you two as well.

unbeknownst to you, zeus, a god who had favored you since your birth, had set off the storm on bakugo, leading him to your alter.

not like it was what you were pondering at the moment anyway, as you caressed and embraced your soon to be husband, who you were already planning to turn into a god alongside you.

[logicalbookthief]

I adore the fact that in so many other stories, Mob Psycho would’ve concluded with the World Domination Arc. After all, it has the big, climatic battle with the ensemble cast versus the overarching villain. They win, and everyone goes home, all’s well that ends well, right?

Except the story doesn’t end there. Because Mob has yet to reckon with this internal, antagonist force that has haunted the narrative since the very beginning: Himself.

When Mob comes face-to-face with ???% at long last, he says: I am Kageyama Shigeo.

This isn’t a conflict with a villain, or another esper, or even a separate entity that resides inside Mob’s body. It is something far more personal, and far more relatable.

???% is the culmination of everything Mob’s held back. Not just emotions like anger or fear. Even his desires, like his crush on Tsubomi. All muted by his efforts not to hurt anybody with his powers. Mob has come such a long way, but he’s still restraining his feelings so tightly that the moment his control wavered, ???% took over.

But the conflict isn’t the destruction ???% is wreaking just by walking through the city. The conflict is Mob refusing to accept this part of himself he’s suppressed for so long.

And ???% is right! Every attempt to stop him thus far has failed. Because he isn’t meant to be stopped. Mob has to reconcile with the parts of himself that he won’t acknowledge.

And it’s the most difficult thing Mob has ever had to do! This is the part of himself that hurt his brother; that hurt his friends and decimated so much of the city. Reconciling with it means accepting that Mob hurt those people, whether he wanted to or not. It means accepting all facets of himself, even ones he’s not proud of or wishes he could change but cannot.

Mob has grown so much in this latest season alone, he hasn’t had any explosions, and he felt confident enough in his own abilities to actually ask Tsubomi out, which was something the Mob of two seasons ago could never imagine.

But what about the advice Reigen gave him for his confession to Tsubomi?

His true self, in its totality. This is what Mob has struggled with the entire story. This is why his confession to Tsubomi is the culmination of his character arc. Expressing his feelings means exposing his true self to someone else, even with the fear of rejection.

And while we’re on that subject. Let’s talk about Reigen. Right after he gives this advice to Mob, he says this about himself:

It is the height of irony (and tragedy) that Mob and Reigen admire each other’s strengths so much, yet have no idea they struggle with the same exact fear: that if the people they cared for found out who they truly were, they would reject them. It is why Reigen relies on lies and why Mob suppresses himself.

It is also why Reigen has never actually witnessed ???% until now. It is why Mob has never heard Reigen admit the truth about himself out loud.

And that’s why the final arc feels like such a gut-punch in the best of ways. What is harder than accepting who you are, and hoping for others to accept you as you are? Even at your most deceitful, or your most destructive? Mob Psycho ends with the Confession Arc because that’s the very heart of the story.

[eleganthologramcolor]

Check this out, a teaser to a bigger thing I'm working on...

What about a reader who's equally as mean as a situationship!Simon?

Toxic!Reader x Toxic!Simon

Reader gives the attitude they're given. Doesn't let themselves get hurt more than the other one. An eye for an eye, maybe more if you piss them off. Warnings: implied smut, implied female anatomy, mock baby trapping as an unserious breeding kink practice, toxic behavior, reader's inner monolog is going to be MEAN in the main series, unprotected sex + multiple partners, shaming of Simon's abilities.

You'd learned very early on that he planned to use you. You're warm, you're tight, you get the job done. No matter, you didn't expect things to go far with a military dude who insists on fucking the first night anyway. If he's having fun, you should get what you want out of it, too.

He's too rough, too mean, too degrading one night, ruining your orgasm at least 3 times before giving you a half hearted one at the end because, if he's being honest, he got bored, alright? The denial doesn't make you want more, doesnt make you crave his touch, no, not at all. You let him into your home, into your bed for a night and he cant even finish you off properly for the sake of his entertainment? The lingering heat in your gut boiling over into simmering bitterness. That's fine, you tell him, you've "got toys that'll get the job done faster and better than he does." The nonchalance in your tone when you say it makes him flinch. A punch right to the gut of his ego as he's getting dressed, looking over his shoulder at you with an unreadable expression. You don't bother to look at him, playing on your phone for a few minutes before you wave a hand, "Uh, shoo? I want you out of here."

The next time you're on top, you get payback. He'd let you take control so willingly, with that satisfied, shit eating grin when you'd asked so sweetly. God, all you had to do was bat your eyes and soften your voice, what a dumbass. You put on a show, tipping your head back to make softer, sweeter sounds, taking just what you need. And only what you need. He doesn't catch on, enraptured by your performance until suddenly you're clamping down, a little too early for him, so yes, it feels good, but it doesn't quite get him there. He grabs your hips, moving to plant his heels on the bed, when you put a hand on his chest and start getting up.

"I'm done."

"Wot?"

It comes out sharp, he's used to all his other little friends letting him get what he wants, all compliant and sweet and innocently hoping this makes them his favorite.

"I said I'm done. Get out. I got work in the morning."

You stand up so abruptly, leaving him with an aching hard on that twitches painfully as it falls against his stomach, wet and exposed to cold air. Pretty as the sight may be, he was useless with it. Girthy, long and curved, should be perfect for reaching all of the spots your fingers can't, but as you'd found, the Itty bitty vibe that fits in the palm of your hand can give you more than a temporary warmth that does so little to quell the anticipation and heat the rest of him seems to promise. You remember that, and tell him over text next time he tries to come over late.

> the door unlocked?

> no, simon. Its midnight. Already took care of myself.

> you've got someone over already?

> [attached is a photo of a powerful vibrator. It's a little too intense for your tastes, but for the sake of bullying him, you show him something he can't compete with.]

It brings a wicked smile to your lips when you hear his bike outside rev up again, imagining him huff in annoyance, stomping away from your front door when he had been expecting you to let him in. You used to wish you were his favorite, that you were his first choice, that he dreamt of you when he was away. But now you hoped you were the last resort, that all of his other little friends had already said no.

Oh, and his other toys....

You'd found out pretty much instantly. Wicked thing you are pretending not to notice the last bit of purple lipstick under his ear, the pink glittery ring that stains the base of his cock, there before you, the red smudging the neck of his shirt. How many different girls, you wonder, or boys, when you see the particularly mean bruise of a bite left on his inner thigh, dumbass thinks leaving the lights off means you can't see shit. The room may be dim, but you aren't fucking blind. You don't let him know, though, you're privy to having your own fun, too.

Makes you seethe the next time he's playing possessive, in your ear as about how you're his, no one else can make you feel as good, no one else can get this deep, can they, 'lovie?' Makes a big show of pulling the condom off, the sick bastard, emptying into you and grunting about this and that, you having his baby and being stuck with him. Being stuck with his ugly attitude? You think the fuck not.

You're on the pill, but you'll make a big show, too, when he leaves, you call up that pretty guy he'd been talking to. One of his coworkers, you're sure. He's a tad bit sweeter. More feral, more hungry to see you writhing beneath him, the sight being enough to get him off. The next morning you post to your Instagram story, a picture of your hand holding his with the breakfast he got you. A warm bag of takeout and an after morning pill, your lipstick on the back of a new hand. Caption it with something silly and cheesy,

"My prince charming got me some breakfast 😌"

And when that blank account views your story, you know you've got him. Bastard thinks he's slick, you won't notice if he doesn't follow or like any of your posts, yea? Fuckin' dumbass. Walking right into your trap. You stifle a shit eating grin when you're back home and getting a barrage of texts from his number. You're tempted to not reply at all, when a meaner thought tempts you. Without reading his messages, you send one of your own,

> hey simon, kinda busy today. Don't come over later, there won't be room in the driveway.

[iamthemaestro]

would you perhaps regale us with tales of your time at sea (i am so curious what reenactment is like when youre traveling on an actual historical ship)

Ah, I *wish* I could say about the reenactment part but unfortunately the Lady Washington does not do much in terms of historical interpretation anymore—they definitely used to but they've gone through a lot of major changes in the past few years and it seems that was one of them. Frankly that would have been the only thing that could have made me more excited to be there lol.

However I appreciate the chance to infodump though since my brain is still very much in Ship Mode with nothing to do with itself... not sure if I have many *tales,* per se, but I did tons of fun stuff and tried to push myself hard in terms of trying things that scared me. On my last day I went up to furl the fore t'gallant (topmost yard on the foremast) which was probably the most physically difficult thing I did during my whole stay—while the climb up the t'gallant shrouds was fairly scary it was honestly much harder to just remain upright against the yard because the footrope was so shallow. On the topyards it's quite comfortable because you can functionally "stand" upright and lean against the yard at about stomach level while you're working, but here if you tried to stand upright the yard wouldn't even come up to your hips so you have to put all this weight into your knees, sort of crouching in order to have it in a good position to lean upon. I'd like to say I got pretty decent at furling in general but man... that one was a doozy. If I had had more time to practice it maybe it would come easier, but as it was we only set the t'gallants twice while I was there anyway. I will say I was surprised at how non-panicked I felt while I was hanging out there on the shrouds waiting for a wake to pass, not clipped into anything, held there by my own strength probably 50ish feet in the air—initially one of the hardest psychological parts of going aloft was staving off the intrusive thoughts, being a person very prone to them, but by the end I was actually quite impressed with how calm I felt up there. It's the best seat in the house, after all, second only to that of the main t'gallant: at first it feels dizzingly, unfathomably high, and when you look down you have this gut instinct of fear—I don't think humans were ever meant to be this high up, frankly—but the wind is whipping past you and your crewmates are like ants on the deck below you and all around you the shore disappears into fog on the horizon, and you're here; you swallow your fear and think, despite everything, "isn't this wonderful?"

My last day was a good one; during our transit from Port Orchard to Everett, the Seattle Krackens sent a film team out and had us set every sail we physically could along with a bunch of Kracken flags for their promotional video this season—we even rigged the main royal just for fun, despite the fact that it was too late for it to be caught on camera. Though I doubt I will ever see it, hypothetically there's some awesome footage of me loosing the bunt from the fore topsail with that fantastic WHOOMF as all that canvas drops—it looks so graceful from afar but when you're up there handling all that canvas it feels powerful more than anything else, all held up by the singular little midshipman's knot you undid with one hand, clinging to the jackstay with the other and watching the sail fall from the sky below you.

That night we also had a "shanty night" which I am very glad I got to experience, given my background as a musician, and it was a great time. Unfortunately I had no way to travel with my mandolin so I was armed only with my tinwhistle, but some crew members seemed genuinely pretty impressed with my ability to pick up tunes, which, at the risk of sounding extremely pretentious (forgive me) I am accustomed to thinking of as a rather mundane thing, but it was nice to feel appreciated. One of my crewmates, very drunk at the time, told me very earnestly that my "improsov" was very good and a "skill I should cherish," and honestly I don't think I'll ever forget that—when I picked up with the verse to Spanish Ladies everyone else had forgotten he cheered obnoxiously for me and kept up a steady stream of enthusiastic interjections where he didn't know the words, and while I am not generally fond of being the center of attention, I was fond of him for that.

Over the course of the trip I was introduced to a great number of tunes I'd never heard—which is something I value deeply—most of which I probably won't remember the names of, but of those I do I am making a point to learn. I love this sort of exchange—folk music at its most authentic—especially in a place like this, late in the evening on what, by the end of my time, I had decided was the most beautiful ship in the world, where our singing and our laughter carried across the water and into the night and my heart, though saddened by the air of finality that pervaded it all, was full.

Excuse me for getting a little prosaic—it's hard to describe the feelings you experience sailing a vessel like this one, at least to me, and it's been a dream of mine for a while. I miss it already and have full intentions on returning in coming years, but for now thanks for the opportunity to talk about it lol!

[lunaewriting]

The Healer: Xavier x OC

Chapter 2: Pretty Little Lifeform

You just get to keep on living…

When Sirona’s eyes came into focus, she realized the body next to her was William. He died trying to protect her. The stench signified how long it had been. Days. Corpses littered the field, and all the buildings had been burnt to ash. 

Immediately, bile rose in her throat as she realized the disarray William’s body was in. He had been gutted, his entrails spilling out of his body and tainting the earth he had spent his entire life protecting and nurturing. He was gone, and there was no way to bring him back. 

These people, whom she considered family, had been decimated. No, not again. How could I let this happen? It’s all my fault.  

Sirona attempted to stand, but her legs buckled beneath her. Instead, she ended up doubled over William’s ruined body, his half-dried blood staining her skin. She gazed into his lifeless eyes, cloudy pupils staring back at her. She wished that she had fought more fiercely. Sirona had put everything into that fight, but it wasn’t enough to save these people. Now, she had nothing. When her pain and anguish reached a crescendo, she let out a scream of pure agony and then felt nothing at all. 

⭒✦✵✦⭒

Xavier was satisfied with how content Sirona had become. Since their fateful meeting, she was all he could think about. The all-encompassing aura of her soul enraptured him, and her eyes were like nothing he had ever seen before, gold but with a touch of purple. Xavier wished he could get closer to her, but watching over her recovery was the only option because of his rule. Sirona had been spending more time in the town and seemed happy. It was that thought that convinced him to leave the vicinity of the town to visit his friend Jeremiah in the city.

Jeremiah had been his friend for hundreds of years. They had trained together, traveled through spacetime together, and, over the years, he had become his closest companion from his previous life on Philos. Many others had abandoned him to reach their own ends or lost their minds.  But Jeremiah remained steadfast. He was a good friend and an even better man. 

When he returned from his short vacation, Xavier decided to check in on Sirona one last time. When he got there, however, he was shattered to find nothing but gore and rubble. Bodies scattered the dirt, bandits and innocents alike. Buildings had been burned along with the people inside. When he took a closer look, he noticed the bodies of the bandits were all gaunt and shriveled. It was Sirona’s doing; it had to be. Her unique ability had been her saving grace—siphoning her attacker’s energy to keep her alive. 

Xavier spotted green-black tendrils of mist rising from the town center, something he’d never seen before. The miasma of death was causing all life in the area to wilt and decay.  Only one person had that kind of power. He knew he had to act. If he didn’t, their environment was doomed to become a wasteland. The rules had just changed drastically. Countless lives could be lost. No one knew how far this could spread. 

With that potential calamity in mind, he ran into the heart of the miasma. 

The pain was excruciating. He could feel his life force being ripped from his body. But his pain only urged him to move faster. There she is. The aura of decay was originating from Sirona, as he suspected. He ran and fell to his knees before her.

“Sirona!” he rasped, cupping her face in his hands, which were already shriveling up and decomposing. 

When he looked into her eyes, he saw no awareness. She was dead to the world. The effects of the trauma had caused her to lose control. He knew that kind of loss all too well. He wouldn’t leave her. He had to snap her out of this. 

He was dying, and so he desperately screamed. “Sirona please!”

He exhaled hard in a last-ditch effort to save both of their lives. He embraced her. He guided her head to his shoulder and wrapped his other arm around her waist. 

Shocked out of her trance by the sudden contact, Sirona gasped as if waking from a nightmare. Then, the world went quiet. She felt the familiar warmth of another wrapped around her. She took in his smell, Xavier, her salvation.

 Xavier let out a relieved sigh. The pain of Sirona’s attack upon him subsided, and her miasma had dissipated. He felt his life force flood back into him. As well as the environment around them. 

She leaned into the embrace momentarily before quickly pulling back to look at him. In Xavier’s eyes, she saw recognition, which could only be shared between two people who had lost everything. He looked devastated for her. 

“They’re dead, they’re all dead. I couldn’t save them,” Sirona wailed. At that, it was as if the dam holding back the flood of emotions had broken within her. She could hold in her grief no longer. Sirona collapsed into Xavier’s arms and buried her head into his neck. Sobs wracked her body violently, and she gripped onto him with such force he thought bruises might form. His arms tightened around her as if he were trying to keep her from falling apart, but he knew that no matter how tightly he held her, it would not bring back any of the people either of them had lost. 

So, instead, they held each other as if they were the only people left on the planet. 

At that moment, Xavier knew that he could never leave her. Now that they collided, there was nothing that could break them apart.

Eventually, after what felt like hours, Sirona’s sobs had subsided. Silently, she stood, breaking her contact with Xavier. She may not have been able to save her people, but she would see to their eternal rest. 

Mindlessly, she grabbed a shovel and began the herculean task of burying all of the men, women, and children of her village. She knew them all. They deserved better than her. She prayed that they would forgive her for her dereliction in the afterlife.

Xavier watched as she began to work. Without a word, he joined her in her task. She did not acknowledge him. Sirona was too tired after the day’s events to muster a thank you. Together, they dug graves for every person. Finally, she placed an item of importance atop each of their final resting places. Her work had been completed, but as she finished, Sirona realized she had nothing else to live for. In a haze, she began to shamble aimlessly towards the woods. 

Xavier caught up to her. He placed a hand on her shoulder, forcing her to stop walking and look at him. “Sirona, I am so sorry.” 

“So am I,” Sirona murmured impassively and tried to pull away to continue her purposeless endeavor. Xavier’s arm prevented her from doing so.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“Anywhere but here.”

Xavier exhaled sharply. “Let’s just get you home.” 

Sirona looked over at him; truthfully, she was drained. She hadn’t eaten since before the attack.  The longer she walked, the more she stumbled before finally collapsing from exhaustion. 

He dropped down next to her, a question in his eyes. 

“It’s nothing,” Sirona said. 

“Please, Sirona, let me help you,” he whispered to her so gently.

“I don’t deserve it,” she croaked, looking at the floor beneath her.

“Yes, you do. Please, let me prove it to you.” 

With that, she nodded. Xavier smiled softly at her. He slung her arms around his neck and slid his arms under her legs and back. He picked her up tenderly. Too fatigued to resist, she rested her head on his capable shoulder and allowed him to bring her home. She could not keep her eyes open and fell into a deep, dreamless slumber. 

When Xavier finally reached Sirona’s cottage outside the village, he was surprised to see the vibrant garden surrounding her home. There were flowers and herbs of every variety. It was beautiful. She was beautiful. Xavier looked down at her and smiled to himself.  She looked so peaceful in his arms, unimpeded by the horrors of reality. It would take a long time for her to heal from this, but he would be there to help her through it. If anyone knew what she was going through, it would be him. 

He carried her through the threshold of her home. The smell of jasmine filled his senses. It was long past dusk, but Xavier used his evol to make a ball of light to guide him. It was small and comfortably cluttered. There was one bedroom, though the couch in the center of the living room looked comfortable enough. With great care not to wake her, he laid her gently on her bed and covered her with a plush blanket. As he tried to pull away, Sirona caught his arm. 

“Please,” Sirona mumbled, still half asleep, “Xavier, please don’t leave me.”

“Sirona, I am not going to leave you,” Xavier said, brushing a strand of her chestnut hair out of her face, “I’ll be right here, but we both need to eat.” 

“Okay…” she whispered, content with the answer. Eyes half shut, she watched Xavier walk through her home before sleep overtook her again.

He was a terrible cook, but he knew Sirona was hungry, as was he. Xavier found his way to the kitchen. Each surface in the home was covered in trinkets of all uses, books, and crystals. The walls were blanketed with art, and some appeared very valuable. It was odd that such a young-looking woman would have so many time-worn items in her home.

An antique-looking ice box caught Xavier’s eye, and when he looked inside, he found it stocked with an assortment of dried meats, bread, and eggs, as well as a plethora of fruits and vegetables, likely picked fresh from the garden outside. Xavier then gathered wood and lit a fire to cook and warm the chilly home. Once the fire had been lit, he set upon making a proper meal for himself and Sirona. He settled for something easy, cracking a few eggs into the pan and warming some slices of bread for the two of them. 

“Hey, I made you something.” 

When he returned to wake her, she remained in a deep, mournful sleep. She was tossing and turning, her sleep obviously tumultuous. Xavier touched her shoulder and squeezed to jostle her from her nightmare.

Sirona awakened with a start. Her mind was torturing her with memories of the people she had damned. She looked around frantically, trying to discern where she was before her eyes finally settled upon Xavier’s worried face. At the sight of him, her heart calmed. It was as if his very presence was a salve for her broken mind.

“Sirona, I made something to eat,” Xavier repeated.

“Oh, thank you.” Sirona swung herself out of bed and hurried towards the dining room. It was a simple meal of eggs and toast, but it looked like a veritable feast to her hungry eyes. She sat and began eating, Xavier smiled and joined her a moment later.

Once every scrap of the meal had been devoured, Sirona again yearned for sleep, and it was evident on Xavier’s face that he felt the same. 

“Thank you for the meal, I’m exhausted,” Sirona said, eyes flickering towards her bedroom. 

“As am I. I’ll sleep on the couch,”  Xavier said all too quickly.

“Oh, you don’t have to–”

“I don’t mind!” he rushed, seeming slightly embarrassed. “Truly.”

“Well, alright,” Sirona conceded, wondering why a wave of disappointment washed over her at his insistence to sleep on the couch. Without another word, they both retired to their respective places of rest.

⭒✦✵✦⭒

In the dead of night, Xavier was awakened by a harsh scream. He launched himself from the couch and followed the sound to its origin. There Sirona lay, tears streaming down her beautiful face. Her knees had been brought up to her chest. 

“Sirona,” Xavier whispered hesitantly. Startling slightly, Sirona glanced over at him. The sorrow in her eyes made it impossible to resist approaching her. Gingerly, Xavier sat at the foot of her bed next to her. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

Sirona shook her head. “No,” she said hoarsely, “But if you wouldn’t mind, could you stay with me? It seems like the only time I can stop thinking about the attack is when you are close to me.”

“Of course,” Xavier said. “I won’t leave,” and I am beginning to believe I will never want to. The invitation resonated between them. Sirona opened the covers for him and beckoned him to join her. Xavier obliged as he crawled into bed beside her. Xavier thought of his own mind. No one deserved to go through what the two of them had in their lives, but fair or not, they now had to live with the scars. He would not allow Sirona to suffer in silence like he had for a millennium. No, she deserved better.

Sirona placed a hand on his cheek and looked into his eyes. “Thank you, Xavier. You saved my life. I will never forget it. I do not know how I will ever repay you,”

Xavier closed his eyes and leaned into Sirona’s hand. “The only thanks I need is your company.”

⭒✦✵✦⭒

1894

Since that fateful night, Sirona and Xavier would rarely spend a day apart. They began that day as strangers but ended as life companions. For the next 10 years, Xavier and Sirona lived at that cottage in complete peace. Sirona often visited the village she used to call home to pay her respects. The two would also travel to the city to acquire new art pieces and peruse the latest exhibits. Before Xavier entered her life, she often opened a traveling cart selling herbs for various uses to make ends meet and purchase the occasional piece. Xavier had changed that; he had a mysterious wealth that he would dodge questions about when asked; whenever Sirona showed any interest in a painting, it would mysteriously be delivered to them the following day in the city. Their trips were always brief; being away from the village made Sirona uncomfortable. 

As the years drew on, Xavier began to notice Sirona’s stagnation. They knew each other almost as well as they knew themselves. Although his greatest secret still gnawed at him, he just could not bring himself to disclose to her what he truly was. She thought he was merely an exemption to mortality as she was. He wished the burden of immortality was the only one they would have to carry on their shoulders. There would still be a few hundred years of peace; he could pretend until then. But one day, that peace would be shattered. 

Their relationship had always been a mystery to him. He realized long ago that he loved Sirona. Maybe he had loved her from the second he saw her. Still, he could not bring himself to tell her how he felt. The prospect of losing her would be a fate worse than death. Maybe that made him a coward, but he did not care.  

Xavier thought back to those precious few months when Sirona was helping the town’s people. In all his time with her, Xavier had never seen her as happy as she was then. In the beginning, he had thought that Sirona just needed time to heal. Now, he realized for as long as she lived in this cottage that she would only be surviving, never genuinely alive. Xavier had repeatedly suggested they could move to a new place, but Sirona met every suggestion with an immediate no. 

It wouldn’t be fair to either of them if Sirona continued on like this for eternity.

With that thought in mind, Xavier approached her as she tended the garden.

She gazed indifferently at her beloved jasmine as she pruned and watered the plant. A task she had performed countless times. 

“Sirona, can we talk?” 

Sirona paused before looking over at him. He sounded especially serious. 

“Of course, you know you can talk to me about anything!” She managed a small smile. 

“I think it’s time to leave this place,” Xavier suggested firmly. 

An alarm sounded in her heart, no. This had been the only thing that Xavier and Sirona had ever disagreed about. She was bound to this place; there was nothing either of them could do about that. 

“That’s ridiculous. I can never leave this place.”

Xavier squeezed his eyes shut. He had heard that so many times, and it was becoming frustrating. 

“But, why?”

“I just can’t.”

“You always say that to me, and I have never pressed you on it. I always thought that if I gave you enough time, that you would eventually heal from what happened…but Sirona.” Xavier crouched beside her. “I can’t live another day knowing that you are living in the past, you are torturing yourself.”

She looked away. “The past is all I have, I did not even deserve to live through that day.”

He stayed silent for a moment, taking in her every feature. Her freckles came out in the sun; they peppered the planes of her face, framing her beautiful golden eyes. He reached out to caress her cheek.

“Please don’t think like that.” He understood what she was going through better than anyone in the world. Seeing this reflection of his own pain struck him to his core. 

“Xavier, this is not up for discussion. I am not leaving.” Sirona stood at that and began to walk away.

“No, I will not allow you to give up on yourself like this! You are still alive, Sirona. Stop pretending that you died alongside them.” His voice had an edge that he had never taken with her before. She stopped in her tracks. The words he said stung, threatening to open old wounds. 

And you just get to keep on living… 

She still would not look at him. “Enough, Xavier!” Her fists clenched. 

“No! Would you stop and look at me for one second?” 

Sirona raised her eyes to his as he closed the distance between them, grasping her face with his hands, making it impossible for her to turn away from him again. “Do you think your people would want you to waste away for the rest of your life?”

Sirona blinked, surprised at the sudden force of his voice. He had never raised his voice at her before. But then she realized the truth in his words. Mistakenly, she had felt that if she left this place, it would mean abandoning them. Leaving her people abandoned and unguarded yet again, failing them even in the afterlife. She realized her folly; no one would ever hurt them again. Because of Sirona, their sole survivor, they were at peace. She was their legacy. To give up on herself would be to dishonor their memory. 

She searched Xavier’s eyes. “You’re right. I am sorry.” 

Xavier’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head, but he said, “So you’ll consider it then?”

Sirona let out a long sigh. “Yes.” 

Xavier’s face broke into the most radiant smile she had ever seen. He hugged her, bringing her off the ground for a moment.

“Thank you for trusting me, Sirona,” he said quietly, cupping her face with both hands. Suddenly, he noticed how close their faces were. For an agonizing moment, they stood there, breath mingling. They both seemed incapable of looking away. Just as Sirona’s eyes fluttered shut, Xavier pulled away. 

He cleared his throat, “Well, where do we start?” 

[casualaruanienjoyer]

Aruani

OH ANON, THIS IS MY FAVORITE!! Thank you for requesting this! Here's more of like a scenario?? That I came up with? I hope you like it anyway!

Aruani: since early cadet days, they had a thing for eachother.

Armin looks up to Annie for her strength. Not only physical, but also the power to stand up for herself and do things her way. She always looks so elegant when fighting, so sure on every step she takes. Armin's weakness has always been his confidence alongside his physical inaptitude.

Annie on the other hand looks up to Armin because of his courage to think outside the box, to use his mind to compensate for his weaknesses. He has guts no matter how weak he is. He's incredibly smart and also loyal to his friends.

They are both strong in different ways, but they complimented eachother!

As cadets they start talking more and more while training or studying, since they are often paired up by sheer accident. Armin is the more talkative of the two, and Annie likes listening. He makes her feel like a normal teenage girl.

At some point Armin asks Annie to help him with physical training, to better his stamina and shape. She reluctantly accepts and goes easy on him at first, but when Armin asks her to go full force, she silently praises his courage. He has no chance against her, but over time he starts dodging her hits more often. He's getting good at self defense.

They grow close over time, hanging out several times a week. Annie works out while Armin reads in the evenings. They often sit together for food. Armin thinks Annie's wekness for desserts is cute. Annie is mostly silent, but she does listen to Armin's ideas. She's fascinated by his ability to make connections between clues and ideas. He finds so much beauty in the world beyond the walls, Annie wishes she could tell him more about it.

One particular evening, Armin tells Annie she looks beautiful when she trains, and that he would love to be so graceful when using the ODM gear himself. Annie is taken aback and storms off, blushing.

The next training session they have, Armin lands a hit, and the touch affects Annie much more than she likes to admit. She begins to realize they have grown close enough for her to develop feelings for him. She's getting too comfortable.

The next time they see eachother Armin asks her if she'd like to spend their day off together in town and she accepts, even though she knew she shouldn't have.

Armin ends up surprising Annie with a reserved table at a cute dessert shop that has an inner garder. He must have spent months worth of allowance to get a table right under a beautiful blooming tree. Annie is suprised, and feels completely underdressed. Other clients shoot them judgemental glances but they don't care. They try every type of dessert on the menu until they cannot eat anymore.

When they leave it's already dark outside. Annie notices a bit of cream stuck to Armin's cheek, and without thinking leans in to kiss it away. Armin blushes furiously, and kind of freaks out for a second, but then laughs at Annie's pouty glare.

It's awkward for a bit but Armin takes her hand in his, blushing. They head back home like this, in silence. Armin admits to himself that he'd love to see many more expressions on her face in the future.

[musee-de-muse]

The Tower

DWC November 2024

Day 1: Haze/Sexy

OC: Lilliana Whitedawn, Sindorei 'Felblood'

(I never wrote about the fall of Dalaran, and there's a couple characters who have feelings about it, so now is as good of a time as ever.)

@daily-writing-challenge

It was early enough that the morning haze of fog still kissed the sea's gently rolling surface, as it lazily lapped at the shore – well-worn leather boots carrying the fair-haired Sin'dorei deftly along the damp sand of the beach. Her gaze swept the strewn rocks, and debris – still in shock. One moment, all was well – the club had been as it was every other day, or night... teeming with gyrating bodies – while wishes were fulfilled in the shadows of her insidiously sensual domain.

And then all the lights had come on, the music coming to an abrupt halt as the crushing press of flesh below began to blink out of the fog of pleasure and lust, the exits blazing with a soft, red-tinted arcane glow – the emergency features put in place long before her time had cut the party swiftly short, and... with relatively little harm done, security had escorted all those in attendance either out of Dalaran itself through portals, or back into the underbelly to make their own ways to safety, family, or whatever else called to them in these frantic, confused moments of invasion.

It had been so fast. One moment, bodies pressed hotly against one another – dark secrets traded for dangerous desires; drugs, alcohol, flesh, magic... or simply a release from the expectations of every day life... this was the legacy she'd been handed. The club she'd practically been shaped within, herself – the walls therein holding secrets the likes of which she'd no doubt have killed, to keep.

It was the one, big thing that had still tied her to those now forever gone from her life.

“Was it too much to ask for just this?”

The waves shushed her as gently as they could.

“Not only was a whole city I loved utterly destroyed – a symbol of what we can achieve with alliances, instead of war. A testament to our prowess over magic, and our ability to bring that power to everyone...”

What was she even trying to say? That not only did it hurt her, as an Elf... but that it felt like a knife in her gut. It felt personal. It felt like Ythgar leaving all over again. It felt like Iloam's goodbye, in which he had accused her of being a demon in disguise - in which he had told her to never speak to him or his again. It tasted like having had love at her fingertips, only to lose it over, and over again.

It was a whole era of her life being ripped away from her again.

It was an anchor to the young woman's humanity that had allowed her to not only stay rooted in a safer mindset, bound up in memories and legacy...but it had allowed Lily's demonic side to be sated in a convenient manner without causing anyone any real harm. It was a tie to a part of her life that had felt so safe, in the early days – a time that, despite the turmoil it had all ended in, had forced her to take shape in her first days truly on her own.

And so Lily let herself grieve there on the shore, by herself – she let herself grieve in a way she never really had had the time for, since all the loss. She'd been busy mourning herself – her mortality, and her fel corruption - and raising a daughter, and fighting to save Azeroth, and sating her demon, and getting her estate back on its feet in the strain of the years since the fall of Quel'thalas... and she'd barely been an adult, when it had all begun. She grieved for the that girl, too – the Flower Girl. The one who hadn't known any better. The one mocked for her naivete.

She was a mother to a preteen now; beloved friend, and trusted ally of dragons; half a demon; still, as ever, a Crusader to be called upon by the Argent Crusade; a hobbyist historian, a professional relic-retriever with her own ship and crew, now... who would have to return to piracy on the sly, with the club now removed as a 'hunting ground' to sate the demonic side of her.

Lilliana was all those things, and more – this towering woman, who now sank to her knees in the sand... one hand firmly in the moist earth, gripping the sand tight between her fingers, as the other clutched at the 'silver' pendant of a lioness that she'd worn since the day Ythgar, the Marquis of Vynguld, had gifted it to her.

As the pendant dug into the flesh between her knuckles, the Elven woman shuddered – taking a steadying breath, as the memories... as the anger and the grief washed over her... and she let it pass, pushing down the demon it rankled to life in her breast.

“But a bilge rat always survives.”

Soft and hoarse, these words to the empty beach – and yet, the lessons Iloam had taught Lily as a naive, young paladin had buried themselves deep in her psyche, and still held her in their grip. One knee comes up, plants a booted foot under her, and she hefts herself up in a singular motion – the hand that cleans her face leaving a smear of sand in its wake... and behind her, the pristine, damp sand is broken only by steady footprints that lead away from the messy disturbance she'd left in the sand, in her moment of delayed grief – all that hurt put neatly back in a box, and away out of sight to haunt her another day.

[mysandwichgiver]

OPINION

Our democracy is much more frail than Biden

by Will Bunch | Columnist

Published July 2, 2024, 12:04 p.m. ET

Do newspaper columnists know that democracy’s closer to death than Biden?

One of the first things they teach doctors in medical school is the imperfect but necessary art of triage, the technique used on a battlefield or during some other mass-casualty event to determine who is most gravely wounded and who needs immediate attention during a crisis when the system is overwhelmed, and clear-headed thinking will save lives.

Clearly, this is not something that is taught in journalism school.

Over the course of a remarkable weekend, I saw the best minds of my boomer generation destroyed by madness — newspaper columnists and other big shots convinced they were cosplayers in a real-world episode of The West Wing, saving America by giving chief of staff Leo McGarry the best words to convince an ailing President Bartlet that it’s time to step down.

The soft clacking of these keyboard commandos turned into a stampede as the nation’s pundits, its editorial-page poobahs, mega-rich but anonymous donors, and Democratic horse whisperers competed to outdo each other on The Daily Rip or in “the paper of record,” or wherever they thought the actual frail president, Joe Biden, might be paying attention.

Dropping names — Whitmer! Shapiro! Warnock! — like a groupie backstage at a heavy-metal concert, floating wildly implausible scenarios, stretching so hard for historical analogies that several probably blew out a hamstring, America’s pundit class managed to achieve a level of groupthink that surpassed the brainwashers of The Manchurian Candidate. All argued that for the good of the country he loves, Biden — hoarse, barely audible, and visibly confused a few times during Thursday’s Atlanta presidential debate — must immediately end his candidacy.

Meanwhile, in the actual America that less resembles The West Wing than the disaster flick Don’t Look Up, two comets simultaneously bore down on America in the hours leading up to its 248th — and possibly last — birthday as a democratic republic.

First, there is Donald Trump — desperate to avoid his sentencing for his 34 felony convictions, firing off racist insults about “Black jobs” and “bad Palestinians,” and carrying around a 900-page blueprint for American dictatorship called Project 2025 — streaking into the cosmic void of our troubled republic.

Meanwhile, don’t look up but a thoroughly corrupt and compromised Supreme Court is blazing a second trail toward American autocracy. In a flurry of body punches over the last several days, the nation’s highest court gutted the federal government’s ability to regulate fat-cat corporate polluters or stock swindlers, but said poor folks who sleep outside because there’s nowhere else to go can be arrested. Then, with a fierce right hook, it issued a 6-3 partisan ruling that will help Trump — who appointed three of them — evade justice while placing all future presidents above the law.

Justice Sonia Sotomayor, one of the three liberal naysayers, read her blistering minority opinion from the bench Monday morning, arguing that the court’s finding that a president performing official acts can be immune from criminal prosecution “effectively creates a law-free zone around the president, upsetting the status quo that has existed since the founding.” She ended with the words, “with fear for our democracy, I dissent.”

I wish Justice Sotomayor had the bandwidth and the energy to work a second shift as editorial page editor at one of our major newspapers.

At Time magazine (yes, it still exists), the cover of its new issue contained just one word, “Panic” — not at the prospect of an American dictator with the seeming power to have the military assassinate his enemies, but at Biden’s health. At the New York Times (yes, it still exists), an editorial board that considered it pointless, or whatever, to call for Trump to leave the race after those 34 felony convictions — as well as the civil rape and financial fraud verdicts and the two impeachments and three other pending indictments — made its grand pronouncement that it’s Biden who must go. Other papers jumped on the bandwagon, including the swing state Atlanta Journal-Constitution, which in the 1950s and ‘60s won Pulitzers for its courage in taking on Southern racists before deciding instead to appeal to their grandchildren.

And look, I’m not going to argue that Biden’s health is not an issue. His debate performance was troubling, but I also think those of us determined not to see Donald Trump become president again should take a deep breath — even if that’s not the clickbait headline that many are eager to write. Biden needs to do more to assure the public about his energy level, and we also need to see the polls. Any decision should be based on the paramount thing — the thing that should be getting 72-point headlines: stopping dictatorship. As Justice Ketanji Brown Jackson wrote Monday in her dissent, this is a “five-alarm fire that threatens to consume democratic self-governance.”

The power of Monday’s dissents by Jackson and Sotomayor form quite the contrast with the speculative flights of fancy about a brokered convention in Chicago, which, it’s worth noting, have largely come from white male boomer types. Many Black and brown and female voices, on the other hand, are urging Biden to stay as the only realistic hope — warts and all — of beating Trump in November. Maybe people who in one way or another know the horror of being treated as a second-class citizen understand the risk of dictatorship in a way that white dudes who’ve always been OK do not.

Most journalists want to be seen as savvy (or not naïve, essentially the same thing) and influential. Many editorial writers and columnists are still hurting from the fact that Trump was elected in 2016 with zero major print endorsements. They think calling for Trump to drop out would make them look foolish now that the Republican Party has devolved into a dangerous cult. But a demand for Biden to drop out might actually happen — so that’s savvy, right?

Except maybe the dangerous cult is the more important crisis, especially when it carries a printed guide to dictatorship and holds six justices in its back pocket. To focus on the actual threat we are facing, I wish America’s top pundits would spend less time watching reruns of The West Wing and maybe pick up a copy of The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich.

The reality of what’s happening in July 2024 — that an authoritarian-minded president, with help from a politicized and unethical Supreme Court, is on track to lead a nation where all power is being vested in him, his MAGA movement, and the corporate polluters — is THE story, and Biden’s health is a subplot in that drama. The current president is walking slowly, but it’s the American Experiment that’s on a ventilator. Journalists aren’t doing their job: performing basic triage and focusing on the sickest patient in the room. With fear for our democracy, I dissent.

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP Memes from Reddit’s Thread “What is denied by everyone but is actually 100% real?”

“You are not immune to propaganda.” “Everyone is susceptible to bias. We all think it's something that just affects other people.” “Part of having bias always is that your think yours is the thought out reasonable and just one.” “You are much more likely to believe whatever side of a story you hear first.” “They knowingly put out harmful fearmongering misinformation, the issue a retraction several days later that less than 1/10th of the original audience will hear about, and even less will believe.” “The first thing we judge a person on is looks.” “Everyone is stereotyping and judging others constantly, it’s human nature.” “We judge others on their actions and ourselves on our intentions.” “This is going to sound crass and unkind, but sometimes I wish I was less intelligent both intellectually and emotionally so I could just go through life dumb and happy.” “You should not confuse your idea of another person with what they really are. You will never know how it feels to be them. How the world looks from their point of view. You will always only know your side of the story.” “Without the money, I have zero desire to teach kids.” “People often brush off gut feelings as just random, but there’s some real science that suggests intuition can actually lead us to good decisions.” “Everyone judges, it's just a matter of keeping it in your mind or letting it out.” “You are the enemy in someone’s story.” “There will always be someone who doesn't like you, for whatever reason, no matter how good or kind you are.” “You can be the sweetest peach on the tree, but some people just don’t like peaches.” “I have this plush shark and can confirm it brings pure joy.” “Did you know the giant snake plush is a PUPPET?!” “This “you can do anything” rhetoric just messes with a kid’s mind.” “If nobody is perfect, then there is no "The one." You just have to decide if someone's pros outweigh their cons for you personally.” “"Don't judge a book by its cover" that's literally what covers are for, so you can judge the book.” “I saw your text but responded in my mind.” “Beauty is a privilege and a super power.” “Everyone is not, and cannot be beautiful. And that's okay.”“I'm pretty sure that most other animals probably think all Humans are ugly as fuck. Imagine an animal with no hair except for a few patches over the body, walking around on two legs with the other two legs dangling at the side with extra long toes hanging off it. By our own standards of animals we find cute and animals we find ugly I reckon humans are definitely somewhere at the ugly end.”

“The idea that we only use a small percentage of our brain, often cited as 10%, is a myth.”

“Everybody lies.”

“The same people you talk trash with are talking trash about you.”

“Something like 80% of humans have herpes. Cold sores are herpes. If you’ve had a cold sore ever in your life you have herpes.”

“If someone says “I’m not that person anymore”, and their actions seem to confirm it, might be time to let it go.”

“Capitalism only exists to funnel all the wealth we create to a very few elite.”

“Girls fart.”

“People seriously underestimate their ability to do things they consider bad or wrong. No one is above an amoral act.”

“You will be too old to work one day and you will die. You will be very sorry if you don’t start planning these things decades ahead.”

“The world would be better with more cheese on everything.”

“This one I think is sad but humans are tribal animals and we honestly just don't like people we don't see as being in our tribe. This isn't about race or anything I just mean in the most general sense.”

“We all pee in the shower.”

[yinyuedijun]

i would like to know more about the mc's devil contract in bluebird 👀👀👀 (if you'd like to yap about it)

AHHHH HI ELLA 🫶 I did want to yap about it but I genuinely couldn't remember if I'd already spoiled it at some point LMAOOO. but like. I do not know if/when I will ever finish that fic so I really do need to say it all somewhere at least once and that tweet reminded me strongly of it 😔

WARNINGS: for major csm part 1 spoilers, noncon and grooming mentions. also tw makima 😔

okay so. the reader has two contracts.

the first contract is the one that she made in the first scene of the prologue. I think pretty much everyone who read the fic realised that the blue-eyed devil had taken the shape of aki when speaking with her. I am not sure though if anyone realised that the two of them had sex, though:

Your back smears with chalk as the Devil climbs atop you. It whispers sweet things into your ear, all the while lowering its mouth. The seal of its lips part to reveal row after row of jagged teeth spilling out from its beautiful mouth, and you suppress a flinch.

Pain cuts your innards like a knife. Beneath the Devil's gaze, your blood spills out onto the floor. The vulnerable bits of you are gutted out, bleeding out across ivory lines. The Devil watches with a feverish grin, and all you can think about is how you never want those eyes to see you like this again.

On December 24th, 1993, you offer your flesh to a devil with blue eyes, and you receive its powers in return.

the devil in this scene is the heart devil, to whom the reader was initially sacrificed for a deal (because 'devils love virgin girls'), but then decided that it would rather form a pact with her rather than devour her. it's superficially demanded her virginity in exchange for its powers, but what she's really given up is her capacity for emotional intimacy, which has been destroyed because of the insanely fucked up situation she's been put through (getting sacrificed by a loved one to a devil, losing her virginity to that devil, using her contract's powers to kill the person who just tried to sacrifice her). this is a great irony, because while her own ability for intimacy has been permanently damaged, she ends up with the ability to see people's most vivid memories and make them fall in love with her. she invokes this ability via eye contact and physical touch (and yes, its effect is greatest when she has sex with people).

makima finds her right after this initial opening scene - with all the evidence of a devil summoning and a murder on her hands. so of course, makima is the first person the reader tries to use her powers on, so that she may escape. makima is one of the few devils who can actually resist it - she is the control devil herself, after all, so it's hardly as if a lesser devil can control her - but she finds the effect of the heart devil's powers incredibly addictive. it's the closest thing to love that makima has ever felt. so makima makes a contract with the reader: she may borrow the powers of the control devil so long as makima is allowed to sleep with her whenever she wishes.

this second contract, of course, is something that makima doesn't ever allow the reader to remember for too long.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

I’m hereeeeee 😍

Could I please request Skade training/mentoring another seer with sex in the woods?

Thank you ❤️❤️

Hi my Fae Bae! I hope you enjoy this. I had a lot of fun writing it.

Warnings: Mentions of death, minor injury, blink and you'll miss it blood play, oral (f receiving, duh), mention of weapons. Word count: ~1100

“It is no use!” You groan in frustration, throwing the sword to the ground and kicking dirt over the sigils you’d carved into the earth. “I don’t see anything!”

“But you will.” Skade urges. Her fingers card playfully through the ends of your hair. “Destiny brought you to me, you and I will do great things together. I’ve seen it.”

You sigh, taking her hand and pressing soft kisses to her knuckles. Your eyes soften as you stare into the intense blue of hers. “I am not as powerful as you, if I have any power at all…”

Skade grasps you by the front of your cloak, pulling you to her with a smirk. “It was you that removed the Nithstong from the outside of my cell, you that helped to free me, you that plagues my visions.”

She isn’t wrong. Since you had arrived in Alton, Wessex alongside Uhtred’s men and seen the carnage left in Skade’s wake, it was like an invisible string had pulled the two of you together. Her eyes never once left yours as Sihtric bound her wrists together.

It mattered not to you that she had slaughtered the priests, or cursed Uhtred. The coarse language that spilled forth from her lips served only to stoke the fire within you, burning with white hot intensity for her. She claimed to be a seer and you wondered if perhaps it was a bewitchment that caused your heart to race whenever you were in her presence.

Dread gnawed at your gut when you reached Dunholm and Skade was imprisoned. You knew that Brida and the others meant to do her harm, and now that she was a part of your life you were not prepared to be without her.

Come nightfall, you’d carefully lifted the keys from Jackdaw and snuck to her cell. Ripping the goat’s head that had been staked outside it from the ground and tossing it to the side, you’d made short work of unlocking the barred door, pleading with Skade to be quiet as she’d laughed and urged you on.

You had only intended to take her as far as the treeline and then let her go, yet were unable to resist when she’d asked that you come with her. You’d agreed on the condition that she lifted whatever affliction she’d placed upon Uhtred. His state was weakening rapidly and although you were intending to leave the company of him and his men, you had no wish to see him die.

Since then your days had been spent attempting to harness the power that she claimed you possessed, under her watchful guidance. Your nights were spent under the stars, between each other's thighs. Skade was unpredictable and utterly chaotic, but it excited you. You were a moth to her shining light.

It frustrated you how slowly your abilities were developing. You could feel something there, bubbling just beneath the surface, yet it was just beyond your reach. You secretly worried that, given time, Skade would tire of your lack of ability and desert you. When you grew angry at not being able to manifest your visions or get your incantations to take, it came from a place of fear; fear of losing her.

“What if you are wrong about me?” You ask, your brows pinching together in concern.

“I am never wrong.” She tells you confidently, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, which you chase eagerly. “There is a reason I told the men not to gaze upon me in Bloodhair’s camp, it is because the only person worthy of looking upon me is you.”

You gasp as she scratches at your neck, the sharp sting quickly soothed by the lave of her tongue across the broken flesh.

“I can taste your power.” She whispers.

You thread your fingers into her long flaxen hair, kissing her hungrily, backing her up against the trunk of a tree.

She moans, her nimble fingers dancing along your sides as you break away from her mouth to press your lips against her neck and collarbones. Her scent is rich, a mixture of earth and spice which is heady and intoxicating.

You lower yourself to your knees, ignoring the way that the twigs and stones of the woodland floor bite into the flesh of them through your skirt. Carefully, your fingertips push Skade’s dress upwards, pressing soft kisses to every inch of flesh that’s revealed to you as you make your ascent up the path of her legs.

She shivers under your touch, hands clawing at your shoulder blades, and you suck in a shaky breath as you are met with the sight of her cunt, wet and wanting as it always is.

Burying your face between her thighs, you lap at her enthusiastically, delighting in the way she squirms and cries out above you. The taste of her against your tongue is sharp, though not unpleasant. You have tasted stone fruit that isn’t as fine as what’s nestled between this seeress’ legs.

“Your mouth is magic…” She moans out, as you circle her bud precisely with the tip of your tongue, watching her eyes become hooded with lust as her mouth falls open.

Your grip on the tops of her legs tightens, holding her open to you as you alternate between licking stripes through her folds and suckling at her pearl.

Her cries of pleasure increase in cadence and she tenses, trembling slightly. You know she is close, the pink that dusts the apples of her cheeks always seems to signal when she is about to reach her peak.

You focus your attention entirely on the bundle of nerves that sits at the apex of her, and let out a groan of satisfaction when she finally falls apart, tasting the warm wetness of her arousal in your mouth.

You gaze up at her, a pleased smile on your face as you take in her satisfied, blissed out expression. Rising to your feet, you pull her against you, your heart swelling at the way she immediately relaxes into your body.

Your eyebrows raise in surprise when, after a few moments, she produces a blade from her sleeve.

She pulls back from you a little, staring intently at you as she presses the sharpened edge to her palm, and the words she speaks next quell all fears of her ever leaving.

“Bind yourself to me.”

[fallrimxreader]

Can you do the fallout 4 companions reacting to final pam? (monster factory)?

In all of her pamness?

I had no idea what the Final Pam was. But now I have seen all 3 episodes. It was an interesting experience.

Cait: Once while drunk she made a joke that she could beat Pam in a fight. The next day she heard about how Pam made someone simply disappear from existence. Cait now holds her tongue and hopes that Pam didn’t hear her. People try to bring up Cait’s previous comment and Cait will beat them up saying she never said such a thing.

Curie: She is very intrigued as to how Pam became so powerful. She wishes Pam would use her powers for better and more useful things. Cait feels like Pam could do some good in the world if someone persuaded her. However deep in her gut Curie knows Pam would not do anything but help herself and her own cause.

Codsworth: Metal husband will always love his powerful wife. He’ll follow her and do as she says, and he’ll kill everyone for her.

Dogmeat: As long as Pam is kind to Dogmeat he doesn’t mind her. He will follow her as long as she takes good care of him.

Deacon: Once Pam became more well known and famous around the commonwealth Deacon disappeared. He became a myth; people say they see him sometimes but there has never been any proof the sighting was actually Deacon. Rumors vary from Pam made him disappear to he ran away, to he changed his face to look like a ghoul and now he lives running with the feral to try and hide from Pam. But no one will ever know what truly happened.

Danse: He once thought she could be a useful ally. But after seeing her actions and all the mayhem she creates Danse and the brotherhood decided she is an enemy to the commonwealth and should be destroyed before she ends the world. He hasn’t been sent to take her down yet but he will if he does get ordered to. He won’t admit it to anyone but he’s intimidated by her and hopes he won’t get sent to take her on.

Hancock: He’s not one to judge appearances, being a ghoul, he has no place to judge. And he’s killed people too. What he can’t get past is how deranged and power hungry she is. Being Mayor, he knows he can’t abuse his power. The abilities Pam has disturbed him, he doesn’t think anyone should have that type of Power. He'd love to ban her from Goodneighbor but knows if he did she would probably just destroy the town, so he just tries his best to steer clear of her.

MacCready: He is terrified of her. Rumors of Pam very quickly spread around the commonwealth and he hoped that they were not true. After finally meeting Pam, he just runs. He doesn’t want anything to do with her or the death and destruction that she brings.

Piper: She thinks if she can get an interview with Pam, it will be the best-selling paper she ever has. But at the same time, she doesn’t want the interview, she’s cautious and worried that it might go wrong and Pam could potentially take her anger out on Piper. So, Piper thinks she will just stay away and hope she can live a normal Pam free life.

Preston: He is also trying to stay as far away from her as possible. He buries himself in work and trying to help settlements, hoping that if he’s out of her way he’ll be safe. He doesn’t want to be turned smaller or larger, or smashed into a million pieces so he just hopes if he stays away, she won’t come find him.

Valentine: He thought he could be nice to Pam and she would be nice in return. Unfortunately, he had a not so nice interaction, and she caused him to disappear. Valentine floats around in the great beyond wondering where he went wrong, and how things will ever get done now that he’s not around to fix it.

Strong: He thinks she is a great fighter and likes that she is terrifying and dangerous. He likes the power she has. He thinks it is quite entertaining how terrified people are of her. Though he will be extremely careful not to anger her. He doesn’t want to be the one she turns on when she feels like causing destruction.

X6-88: Like the brotherhood the institute thinks that Pam is far too dangerous for the commonwealth. She is a menace to everyone and has hurt many of the institute members and synths. X6 has been sent to end Pam and rid the world of her. He agrees that she is far too dangerous and will be happy to take her out. He goes full on, using every trick in the book and every weapon he knows to go and take her out. Unfortunately, after he goes after her, he and all traces of him disappear from the world.

[anemcia]

//just gonna...... Give 1000% credit to @unboundpower for the inspiration for a new Tanuki OC im cookin' here...

I've spent these last few days thinking it over aND... THIS HAS INADVERTENTLY SOLVED MY CRISIS WITH HOW HONEYDEW HAS OBTAINED HER PYROKINETIC ABILITY?? IT FEELS LIKE MAGICAL GIRL BS BUT HEAR ME OUT--

I love how Earth in the DB universe is crawling with plenty of diverse monsters, cryptids, mythological beings, Yokais, ALL that good stuff that is entirely underused and forgotten. With Mei's existence as an ancient Kitsune, I figured it would be neat to complement with a race of mystical Tanukis. Perhaps it is their sworn duty to 'bestow' a destiny to ultimately benefit Earth?

If a Tanuki has encountered a humans with exceptional strength and resolve, they can be selected as a 'Champion'. The hero is then gifted a stone that contains the raw power of an element. If successful, the Tanuki takes it's place by the human as it's guide, advising them on how to use their newfound ability and observe how they utilize it. It is NOT their place to decide if the power is used for good or evil, but the Tanuki is present nonetheless.

...However. There is a terrible consequence if the Tanuki's judgement was wrong. Yup! They're going just off A GUT FEELING. NO PRESSURE OR ANYTHING.

If strength or resolve are lacking, perhaps even both, the second their fingers make contact with the stone will end in a miserable death. The Fire stone could incinerate you into ashes, the Water stone could engulf the victim in a bubble until they drown, the Grass stone could sprout violently from the body until the victim is but stringy flesh and trees... etc. It depends on the element they have selected for their human. Pretty violent stuff, hence the necessity to be cautious when choosing a champion.

I absolutely know I want Honeydew to face a point where Cell's violent trials are too much, enduring an event that nearly kills her (or even does for a period of time), and it is purely coincidence that this Tanuki OC happens to run into her broken, maimed body. This little fella probably hasn't had any luck finding any champion over hundreds of years, far too many lives claimed to give a damn about 'serving' Earth anymore. Having pity over Honey, the Fire stone would be the most merciful way to end her suffering, a quick end to someone who is already numb.

AND WOULDN'T YA KNOW........ THAT ENDS UP SAVING HER.......... Not without being swallowed by flames, but under the deeply charred skin is a renewed and improved Honeydew! Totally fine, like nothing happened! She'd remember every last excruciating of it, but hey, it cAN'T GET ANY WORSE... RIGHT??

Still working out the aftermath of her situation with the Tanuki, but i'm so relieved I have substance to shape up. Just need a cute design, decide if it's male or female, and add this creature into her story. Bonus funny if the Tanuki is only visible to people it wishes to be seen by (or other mystical creatures), so Cell is just so fucking dumbfounded where the fire abilities came from. It's a secret, big guy.

[lingeringscars]

couple gris.haverse (primarily alina) things

big fan of nikolai and alina as a friendship. i did not particularly care for nikolai in s&s (or r&r but i still cried at everything related to him and like props to leigh for that) but i did love the fact that alina had someone else that they could talk to. i still think about them linking arms At All Times. It's not a hard & fast no romantic them for me, i guess, but it would definitely depend on the nikolai writer

Alina is never queen <3 hope that helps <3 i understand the show direction here but alina never wanted to be queen and her saying no to nikolai in the end was sooo important. she has given enough.

alina is not ?? selfish ?? or stupid ?? for being like hey i cannot physically or mentally give anything else right now and i need to go

alina is well aware that there are people that are better equipped for this particular role and it was never something they wanted to begin with. they took on as much as they could. they died for it. they couldn't come back from what happened in destroying the fold and Be A Leader.

sainthood definitely plays into this. alina is so much more than a grisha, so much more than a person. alina will never be fully grisha or fully otkazat'sya. that in between is really something that no one else can understand, either.

i do keep alina losing her powers because i personally thought it was powerful and showcased the fact that she literally gave everything to ravka. it also felt like the apt conclusion to her search for the amplifiers, the warnings about what possessing them would do, and in general the passing of them to otkazat'sya was A lot. following, alina is already hounded by sun saint people ( pls i'm forgetting the names for the groups rn ) and that constant reminder of losing her powers is gutting, and it's another reason that they can't just Go Back

alina doesn't stop caring about ravka? or grisha? the fight just looks different for her now

Also putting out there that alina is In Love With genya & Has Complicated Feelings re Zoya

also complicated feelings about the darkling but i have less than 0 interest in exploring anything romantic between them ever

mal has complicated feelings re nikolai thank u <3

it's actually not that unreasonable that mal would need to adjust to alina being grisha and also that he would have to react to his own trauma. i know this is an extreme take.

mal deserted the army for alina, mal would follow alina, but mal also Good at what he did. he was vital. he was a tracker and was useful and he lost that in part. he got to live despite this, in part because of alina, and there is a part of mal that wishes that they had treated him like any deserter

does mal fuck up? yes. is show!mal somehow better than book!mal because he isn't as traumatized? no? he needs to adjust to everything that has happened, and eventually he needs to adjust to him actually dying (+ also to alina killing him even if he was adamant that it needed to happen). it's part of why i'm very okay with his ending in the show because i do think that he needs to find a purpose and explore without his tracking abilities. this is more complicated with Misha because mal is extremely protective of him, but i think alina going back to keramzin with him helps him. at this point he can also better recognize that he can't just go back and it wouldn't be fair to either of them (or himself)

i honestly do not think inej's trauma has been erased. i definitely understand the gripe with tante heleen being killed off screen and the s1 reaction. inej freezing is very important to me. but so is the fact that inej tells kaz that she struggles too.

inej and kaz have different reactions to touch. inej had to adapt to touch in a way kaz also has not needed to on account of their different circumstances. this is not me saying that kaz would have been able to or any of that, but inej in order to survive DID. kaz became the bastard of the barrel but inej became the wraith. able to disappear in a moment, even if not physically.

inej canonly has to spell out that she struggles even when jesper and nina touch her. idk maybe i'm being too kind but i do think that amita showed hesitation in many cases. we're not in their heads so we need those little context clues; inej hesitating before initiating anything, rarely initiating but responding to the people close to her. the point is just inej is accustomed to swallowing that fear, but that does not mean it is not there. it just presents itself differently! and that's okay! something i care a LOT about in this series is that they show the different manners in which trauma manifests because it is not the same for everyone

i think inej would take issue with nina making a show to turn leoni and adrik into saints

i also think leoni does not particularly like this, she just understands and agreed with the reasoning. however, she was dedicated to the mission in fjerda and thinks that more good could have come if her cover had not been blown, making her and adrik unsafe

she does not resent nina for this and does believe much good comes from it. she chooses to focus on that. they helped people who needed help, and that is worth it in her eyes.

it is a choice, though. leoni chooses to be optimistic. she chooses to see the good. she was saved by someone who was willing to die to save her, who took on the poisons herself so that leoni could live, and she chooses to honor this every day. she was blessed in more ways than one.

she also needs to see the greater good because she knows that she is helping create things that are killing people. this is something that she can struggle with a lot. she needs to believe that the cause is just and that it will end with less suffering overall.

[alovelyburn]

I send you the Charlotte/Griffith ask, because I’m really interested in your opinion, but you obviously don’t have to talk about them if everything has been already answered the way you would answer the ask. Or….. you can go even more in depth about them being together? I know it will probably never be as important as his relationship with guts (but I wish he would be able to be with her the way he was with him, i guess that’s my shipper side) Also yeah, the wedding. Why not now? What role is Charlotte having in narrative now? They do sleep together but he doesn’t go with the marriage? Why Miura does that? Oh and did he ever said anything about them getting closer or liking each other?

And the Original Ask:

I was just messing around with @zombiesgohome about not knowing what to say because she and I share a brain, lmao. But yeah basically I love Charlotte, she is in my... Top 5? Characters, probably along with the two primaries, Farnese and Zodd. It's something like

Guts

Griffith

Farnese

Charlotte or Zodd

Zodd or Charlotte

At least offhand. Anyway, that said I'm not sure my answer is going to be all that different than anyone else's, sob.

When it comes to Charlotte herself, I think she's a great character - despite being tertiary she manages to have at least as much of an arc as much more prominent characters as she debuts as this borderline agoraphobic, meek little thing who hides behind columns to being capable of defying the king to save Griffith, facing down her fears, and generally toughening up. She's able to do what very few female victims in Berserk do - she fights off her own would-be rapist without any help or intervention from outside forces. She does seem to have regressed during the timeskip between the eclipse and the black swordsman arc, but I'm not sure I can really hold it against her as she's locked in a palace with the most powerful man in the nation, who is her father, tried to rape her, and destroyed Griffith out of jealousy, with no protection at all aside from her bedroom door.

The bit about his willingness and ability to destroy Griffith is pretty relevant - not only is Griffith a larger-than-life figure to both Midland as a whole and Charlotte in particular, he was also the most popular and famous man in the nation, and had just ended a multi-generational war. The willingness to tear that down, and to do so with no hesitation and without even the mercy to just kill him and let it be done... makes the King genuinely terrifying.

It's then followed up by her being locked in a tower by a literal demon who is ALSO a sovereign who wants to rape her, so yeah I'm not shocked that she's terrified and traumatized. Even so, once removed from that situation she bounced back pretty quickly, which also shows how resilient she is.

When it comes to her relationship with Griffith, I think @zombiesgohome said it best: she feels to me as though she's in a different story than everyone else. Her world is a bit like a medieval period set shojo romance or like a romance novel - she's the princess in the tower and Griffith is the knight who saves her and now she's waiting to live happily ever after. It's an illusion he's been weaving for her since the Golden Age, and she is seemingly still quite oblivious to the reality of her situation, though the extent to which she buys into his knight-in-shining-armor romantic lead routine is sort of a testament to his skill with navigating and manipulating people.

That said, I think its thoroughly to her credit that when she saw Griffith as he was in the dungeon - mutilated and unable to speak, without any of that unearthly beauty and charm that he projected before his fall, she didn't falter in her love for him. She still wanted to be with him, she still protected his life with her own, she still bargained with the King she despised to try and secure his safety. That being the case I think it's fair to say she's a Good Egg.

As for Griffith's relationship with her... well, whenever I write Griffith talking about his potential for a life with Charlotte, usually in the context of angsting about his feelings about Guts, I inevitably have him say something like, "I wouldn't be unhappy with her."

Basically I don't think he has anything against her, I think she's pleasant and he likes her enough that he's capable of being happy with her, but whereas for Charlotte it would be a love match, for Griffith it's a political match. That doesn't mean he cant enjoy her company or that they cant be allies and decision makers and chart the course of their nation together - she does seem to share his vision for equanimity and already showed the beginnings of that perspective when they first met. But I don't see him pining over her when he's away from home.

And I don't think he's ever going to feel about her anything like he felt (or feels) about Guts. Which in fairness isn't so much a mark against her - I don't think he's ever going to feel that way about anyone else.

There are a few reasons for that, IMO.

The in-world reasons are like... she's kind of not his type - his interest in Guts and his explanation of that interest way back before the first duel seems to imply that Griffith is drawn to kindred spirits - a person who is, like him, constantly pushing the boundaries of what is possible, risking everything up to and including his own life in order to achieve the next thing, taking big risks with the hope of an equally big accomplishment as a payoff. The fact that Guts does these things in different areas than Griffith doesn't negate the fact that he does them, and Griffith finds that appealing.Also blah blah about his semi-canonically not being into women as per semi-explicit word of God? Plus, he's an emotionally numbed demon so the time for him to find a new love is probably past at this point, even if he could have done it back in the day.

But I think the bigger and more important reason is the out of world reason, which is that the story is about Guts and Griffith - it's the same reason Guts can't settle down with Casca (at least until the end of the story, if he does it at that time). To really develop Griffith into a closer relationship with Charlotte would really require more time spent on them than the series seems likely to do. This is especially the case now, since the story is starting to draw itself in the direction of the ending, so there probably won’t be a lot of new threads opening, I expect?

The wedding... is a good question. It's hard to say in part because I'm not sure how much time has actually gone by inworld - it's been A While for us but for them? Falconia was only established in Volume 34, we're on Volume 41, and two volumes were spent on a couple of days in Elfhelm, so maybe there just hasn't been a chance to get to it yet. The other thing is, Griffith being Griffith and tuned into causality and thus at least sometimes aware of things to come, may be waiting for a specific moment or event. Who knows?

On the question of their having kids, I wouldn't be shocked although I do wonder what that would even mean. Griffith's not... human or even a normal demon, would she even survive that? And what would be born, exactly? I guess a lot of that depends on the precise nature of his current self - is his physical body more or less human? We know his nature is no longer human but his natural state is also an insubstantial spiritual being residing within the Vortex, so like is his body human and he just taps his spiritual abilities or is he physically demonic at this point? If you ran a DNA test on Griffith what would you get? ...do demons have DNA...

It's interesting. I wouldn't be surprised if she were pregnant by the end of the series - a part of him left behind even when he's gone from the physical realm.

And while Miura did not say anything about them getting closer to my knowledge, I don't think there's anything wrong with shipping them - exploring things you're unlikely to see in canon is one of the reasons fandom exists.

[nandostateofmind]

Answers for my Wife……

6 Questions from a Widow to Her Late Husband…..

I saw a post online about a wife having her husband end up in a vegetative state after an accident and having questions she wished she had asked. I answered them to the best of my abilities.

1. If you are in a vegetative state and can't make decisions, how long do you want to remain in that state?

Only keep me alive keep me alive long enough for people who love me to say goodbye, for them, not for me let me go and start healing right away. If I need a machine to live I am not living. Start healing and get going. If you can find a reason to laugh the first day, laugh hard, from the gut. It’s what I would’ve wanted. Don’t let my babies suffer seeing me in that way. If I am not powerful, if i was their hero let me go out that way. Let them remember who i was not who i am in that moment.

2. Do you want to be buried or cremated? And if you want to be cremated, where do you want your ashes to be spread?

I want to be cremated what is the point of spending the money to keep my body in a box forever. Don’t ever come visit a grave sight for me. I live in the memories we made my immorality is in the character my kids share of mine. The seeds i planted in every life i have ever touched, that i made an impression on, that’s what i leave behind. Not a cold body that didn’t do enough sit-ups. Spread my ashes in a body of water hopefully someplace that my grandchildren will play one day and the essence of me can remain in that water and my grandchildren play. Or at least that’s my dream. I always hoped to be an old man i hold my granddaughter’s hand as she timidly went into the water. Let me stay in the sun forever.

3. What stories are the most important to tell to our kids about you?

Tell the stories of how i adored them. How i lived for them. How they were my greatest joy and achievement. That on times i was afraid or sad i would look at their photos and find strength for them. Tell them that i wasn’t perfect but I tried real hard. Tell them that i knew true happiness and i knew love and if heaven exists i felt it when i looked at them. Tell them of smiles we shared and only good things. Tell them of my losses that led to victories. Times that i fell down and got back up. Tell them about how i knew happiness and that thats what i wish for them is complete happiness.

4. What is your greatest hope for the kids and me after you are gone?

My greatest hope is that you find joy outside of the loss of me. That you pick up the ball where i dropped and keep running it. That you dare to be great when you are afraid and that you laugh hard as fuck when you remember me. That my wife remember my embrace and know that i loved you and i tried really hard to be the best i could for you and to make you smile.

5. How do you want us to honor and celebrate you through our lives?

Honor me but doing all the things i was afraid to do. By never playing small and limiting yourselves. By never dimming your light because others may be intimidated by your shine. Tell my son to dance with that beautiful girl, talk to her, love like your heart can’t be broken and to understand that when it undoubtably does get broken that’s that’s the beauty of life!! Life is fair and balance and the pain of heart break is in equal measure to the joy of the love you once felt. Just like the loss me it only hurts because we loved each other so much. To my little girl to never stop being powerful and never stop being sweet. To always find joy in making things beautiful and always seeing the beautiful in everything. For her to dream big so big it’s scary. To my wife to get on every plane i was afraid to get on and see the world. Take the trips i should’ve taken you on. Stand in the mirror naked and finally see what i saw in you, perfection. To finally and look at yourself through my eyes and smile at the magic that I see. The beautiful curves that you see as chubby and i see as magic. To realize why men made statues of women like you in order to immortalize beauty. To truly appreciate your physical as much as your mental. To realize how funny you are. To realize your spirit heals people but to also take time to heal yourself. Some people bring light to life and as a light bringer it is difficult at times to carry but you make it look easy. Honor me but never changing the things about you that make you, you.

6. What do you want me to remember to tell myself on the hard days?

Some days will suck. They will suck real bad. Some days it will feel like I’m still there hugging you. Some days I all the strength you can muster to get out of bed and brush your teeth. On those days remember, this people and tell this to yourself. I knew love, true love. Not always perfect but always real. I was grateful for every moment. It was all thanks to you. Remind yourself that when it was all said and done. The game was on the line we left it all on that court. We were legendary. So smile big. I’m no longer anxious about tomorrow. I’m grateful for yesterday. I have the happiest person i have ever known and you were a major major part of that. On those really hard days remember that. Remember that i spent a lifetime of trying to make you happy and i wouldn’t be happy by making you unhappy in the loss of me. So remember the beautiful moments. Hug the kids for me. Pet the dog. Smile. Put on that nice outfit that makes you feel like a star and go be that. Remember that I’m proud of you not for being mine but for being who you are. The stunning woman you have become. On the hard days, just remember those buns gave me so much joy.