A Hungry Baby

From Girl Scout’s social media. The original Twitter thread is here.

Fiction get its inspiration in reality, reality inspires itself in fiction. It just makes sense that we can trust some parts of fictional stories, because something might actually happen!

But then, you have to wake up! You have to grow up and stop believing everything will be alright because in stories does, you grow up thinking bad things happen to bad people and if you good you will be rewarded by fate. But then, reality comes and it hits you hard.

One day you wake up and you understand that your good deeds didn't take you to your better half, they didn't lead you to a happy job where you are congratulated by being a good worker. No!

Fiction failed me, not only because it lied to me about my happy ending before my thirties with my soulmate but it failed me also because good people not always get good things, bad people not always suffer the consequences of their actions. Karma isn't real, the world is, the physical things are.

Reality is real, fiction it is not but I no longer see the inspiration they used to share! The world is getting rotten because dreams keep on dying, because people keep on thinking on ways to survive instead of ways to live.

Fiction is like a Greek goddess everyone can applaud to her beauty, but she will never completely protect you because like all Gods fiction is also egotistical they sell dreams but never tell you they're impossible!

Fiction has failed me and I can't forgive her for it, I just can't seem to find that sympathy on me to forgive her, or maybe I can't just find within myself a way to forgive myself for believing on her!

Apologies for the format and need to zoom, but I thought this response was wonderful

I feel like there is a difference between Trump supporters and people who voted for him. I think he made a mockery of the presidential office, but I still voted for him, because under Biden, my family could have been severely negatively impacted, even more so than under Trump. It saddens me, because I always feel attacked that I voted for him, even though I think actual Trump supporters need an intervention. I just had to do what I felt was best for my family. I'd love your insights here.

There is a lot to unpack here and I do have a lot of insights into this so:

First I wanna say that the ironic thing is that while you feel that Tr*mp is going to be better for your family he is also at the very same time, severely negatively impacting mass groups of people, me and my family included, and when I say negatively impact I mean he puts people lives in my communities directly in danger

I’m genuinely curious as to what negative impact Biden would have caused for your family that pushed you to vote for the president again

I’m a black woman and a Latina and it’s really scary and mind boggling to me that for you and for many who voted for him the first time and this time around, his blatant racism and xenophobia and lying isn’t a dealbreaker for you

It’s a different kind of reality seeing and hearing him and his supporters vehemently agree that Mexico is crawling with murderers and bad people, separating children from their families and then failing to reunite them all even still, or to hear him use racist dog whistle terms about black people and back law enforcement and call us thugs and not address the root of our outrage, it makes my stomach hurt

As does hearing him speak about other countries, seeing his racism and xenophobia and hate shine through in his actions and policies from LGBTQ+ rights to women to quite literally everyone and every issue, that carries weight, that has consequences that will last far longer than you realize

If a man like that is someone you still vote for even if you think he’s a mockery, even with how terrible he is, even with right wing white supremacist groups supporting him, even with how many lives have been lost due to his negligence, that means the life/lifestyle, you lead really needs to be thought about and given a look at

Bc your words are telling me that you and your family walk through this world at the expense of a million others, what’s the price others will have to pay for the way your family will benefit off a white supremacist system of government held up not challenged by Tr*mp?

You can tell yourself you’re not like his supporters, you can say there is a difference between voters and supporters or his fanatics all you like but the truth is that they’re two sides of the same coin. I just think those who say they vote/voted for him but don’t like him as a person or don’t agree with him all the time are better at lying to themselves that they aren’t complicit or contributing to the hate he sows everywhere he goes

Many who have studied fascism or come from countries/been through periods of history where fascist governments and leaders were in power have said numerous times that we are already several stages into the process of becoming a fascist country under him and there is no amount of benefit to your family or any other group of people that man could provide that will make the choice of voting for him ever ok

Tr*mp is a symptom of a larger disease in American society and government and how its systems work since it was founded all the way to now, I am wary of Biden for many reasons and him taking office will not change the fact that behind the presidency the same sickness in how this country operates still remains, but Biden isn’t a fascist and can be reasoned with, he’s a million more times likely to actually listen and can begin to undo the damage Tr*mp has done and that is the only right choice for the greater good

There’s a reason you feel so attacked for voting for him and a reason why there’s such strong pushback and it’s because it’s not just a difference of opinion or party or policy, real people will suffer under him and they have been, we have been and I just can’t find room to feel sympathetic or play nice with those who vote for a man and an administration that don’t want people like me in their ideal world view

Idea: dragon Jaskier but he doesn't know he's a dragon (he himself is confused why he isn't aging). He only finds out when Geralt is in mortal danger and his fight or flight reflex kicks in!!!

Jaskier doesn’t like thinking about time. He’s a very vain creature, he can admit that - he likes his silks and colorful clothes, expensive oils, takes care of his skin and nails, even on the Path. He’s vain and so he doesn’t like thinking about time when he’ll be wrinkled and gray and everything will hurt.

Aside from being vein, that’s what scares him the most.

The idea that one day his body will refuse to cooperate, that one day he won’t be able to follow his wanderlust. Won’t be able to follow Geralt.

That’s why he doesn’t think about it at all. Yes, Jaskier’s aware that he’s been walking the Continent with Geralt for decades now but well, he feels okay, nothing hurts, aside from some old wounds.

He has a feeling that they’re both avoiding thinking about his mortality. Sometimes, Jaskier catches his lover looking at him with sad eyes, when they pass a village where a funeral took place not long ago.

When that happens, Jaskier pulls his Witcher into his arms and pets his hair until Geralt can’t think of anything but his love and sleep. It works for years.

With all the not-thinking about Jaskier’s mortality, they haven’t really had an occasion to think about Geralt’s mortality. Jaskier makes sure his reckless lover doesn’t take contracts that sound impossible to too dangerous for one Witcher, and he’s always there after a hunt to take care of his wounds.

However, it turns out that monsters are not what’s really a threat to Geralt’s life. Jaskier stares in horror at the small army of the local Duke that apparently doesn’t want to pay Geralt the small fortune he owes the Witcher for the nest of vampires.

They look at the armed men, aware that there’s no way they can leave this place alive.

“Go,” Geralt snarls at him, gripping a sword. “They don’t want you.”

“Like fuck I’m leaving you,” Jaskier hisses, suddenly angry. People are coming for his Witcher and he hates it when people come for his Witcher.

Geralt is…precious to him. No one gets to hurt his precious Witcher.

Suddenly, there’s something warm in his chest. Warmth that grows and spreads until it feels like he has a blazing fire in his chest, rumbling and tumbling until it’s ready to spill.

“Geralt, run,” he manages to gasp before the world shakes and everything shifts.

When Jaskier opens his eyes again, his wings are spread and he feels invincible. He doesn’t know what’s happening aside from that fact that these people are a danger to his treasure and he will kill them all.

He roars, head thrown back and spots fire at them, just above their heads, watching in satisfaction as they scramble and panic, screams rising on the hill.

His treasure his hidden safely by his side and Jaskier curls his tail around Geralt, pressing him close.

“Jaskier?” he hears from behind when they’re left alone and it’s another strange instinct to shift smaller and smaller until he’s in Geralt’s arms.

“I remember,” he gasps.

Hairy Pawter and The Chamber of Fluffs

“I solemnly swear that I am up for a sandwich.” ~ Hairy Pawter

“Just because you have the emotional range of a litter box doesn’t mean we all have.” ~ Purrmione

“From now on, I don’t care if my kibbles spell, ‘Fluff’, they’re still going in my tummy where they belong”. ~ Ron Meowsley

A little Help

Pairings: Steve Rogers x reader

Warnings: smut, voyeurism, masturbation- male and female, explicit sexual content, explicit language, dirty talk (must be 18+)

Word count: 1.1K

Summary: You work at a gym that Captain America frequents regularly. One night you come upon him taking care of things and you can’t turn away.

A/N: not beta read. Sorry for any mistakes

• you never meant for it to happen

• it was really late one night at the gym you worked at, you were restocking the towels

• you thought you were alone, but then you heard the shower turn on

Continuar a ler

I'm feeling old... I only recognised like a third of them

Gen Z Slang (Steve Rogers)

Anonymous asked: Omg ur dream about teaching gen z slang…what if sam taught Steve “hip” phrases but misleads him into thinking they’re romantic even though they’re just straight up Pervy Rjxjdjdj

Thank you for sending this in lmao!! Masterlist linked in bio :)  Steve Rogers x Reader with Sam Wilson Warnings: sex jokes

Steve repeated what he read off the text Sam sent him, “I want to ram you.” He scrunched his nose up, not understanding how that sentence stood for asking someone out, in a romantic way. Sam was trying to teach him some gen z slang, so he could have the courage to ask you out, and flirt with you. Steve’s been crushing on you for a while now, and hopefully with the addition to his vocabulary, he’d go on a date with you.

“I bet you have a great WAP?” Steve tried out, saying it to himself in the mirror. He read a few more of the texts that Sam sent him, shaking his head in confusion. Sam texted him saying Steve needed to send a video of him saying it, so he pressed the camera app, sliding to the video.

He pressed record, facing it to the mirror, to see his whole body while he worked up the courage to say it in what he thought was a romantic way. “We should play strip Jenga together sometime.” He mumbled out, furrowing his eyebrows at the words. Jenga was a game that Sam told him about before, and it seemed fun, and saying “strip Jenga” was another way of saying he wanted to have a game night with you sometime.

“I’m a simp for you.” He pushed out, louder this time. Simp, by what Sam told him, was an admirer, someone that cared for another. And Steve smiled at that one, thinking it was a great way to start the conversation he wanted to have with you later.

“Hindsight is 2020 when I think about you.” That one sounded sweeter than the others to him, Sam told him that it was a very romantic statement. He shifted his hand through his hair, almost nervously as he thought of your smile.

“Wanted to let you know, you could hit it for free.” Hit what though? Steve wondered, shaking his head. He ended the video, pressing send. In the meantime, he saw that Sam sent more slang to use, and Steve walked out the bathroom, practicing them.

Steve groaned as he saw the long list, realizing that he needed to use at least a few of them to get your attention. “I’m baby, and I want to 69 you.” He said loudly, not caring that people gasped and stared at him as he walked through the hallway.

“Come and vibe check on this rocket ship.” He worded out, as he sat in the kitchen, looking up to see that Sam had arrived. He was laughing hard, replaying the video repeatedly, before he glanced back to Steve.

Sam grinned to him, wrapping his arm around his back as he laughed more. “Hey, these are good, you should go tell Y/n soon, I’ll take a video of it for you.” He encouraged Steve. He backed away before letting out another laugh, and Steve stood up with a beaming smile.

“Thanks, I’ll go do it now.” 

READ. EVERY. WORD. OF. THIS. Account of a medical team out in St. Paul last night.

Link to original tweet thread.

Geralt can admit that it isn’t his greatest escape plan. But being pushed back towards the waterfall, there are few other options for him and Jaskier to escape alive.

Rocks tumble over the side into the rushing white waters. Geralt sneers at the edge. He should have known what the angry mob was doing. Should have guessed it. Stupid. And now, Jaskier and himself are standing at the world’s edge with no where to go.

No where to go, but down.

Geralt looks towards the trees, can already see the crowd of 30 gaining on them.

“Geralt, think of something, will you!” Jaskier’s voice is a shrill thing in his ears. But the  is a cover. Fear wafts off of him, though less so than an average human.

It is this reason that he grabs hold of the bard and throws the both of them over the cliff.

Falling from this height is more terrifying than Geralt anticipated. There’s hardly any control he can take. Jaskier is screaming beside him. It lasts a moment, barely an instant, before they plunge into the icy cold water.

The world around him spins. There is no sense of direction. No up or down. His only tether is to Jaskier, whom he refuses to let go of. He will not lose him in the rush of the river.

It’s a fight to the surface, with his armor and his friend, but there have been more difficult battles. The next problem is swimming to the damn shore, but the rocks are slippery and Jaskier refuses to help. Though, he may be in shock.

He’ll deal with that later.

Finally, he pulls them both ashore. Geralt gasps for air, more out of panic than anything else. For a moment, all he can do is lay on his back and look at the sky. His gaze shifts from the bright blue of it to the top of the cliff. There are no signs on the angry crowd. He can’t properly hear them with the rushing water. Even if they were to come after himself and Jaskier, they will have plenty of time to make their escape.

“Jaskier,” Geralt calls out. They should dry off. Get going. Figure out a plan on how to get their belongings back. He turns his head to the side, waiting for the oncoming flood of complaints.

Silence.

“Jaskier.” He sits up, discomfort and discombobulation forgotten. Silence rings in his ears. The bard is always making noise. Singing, humming, tapping. His heart beating. But now, his lungs are quiet in the orchestra that makes up Jaskier.

Geralt scrambles over to Jaskier’s side and turns him over. His head lolls. But he’s still alive. His heartbeat, weak as it is, is still thumping. There’s still time to fix this. Panic, alien and intrusive, has to be pushed down and away.

There’s a trick Geralt learned many years ago in Skellige. Something about… pulling the water from someone’s lungs. He’s never had the use for it before now. Tries to remember all of the specifics.

He tilts back Jaskier’s head, pries open his mouth, pinches his nose, and then leans down to breathe air into his lungs.

Geralt can see from the corner of his eye Jaskier’s chest rise and fall with each breath. Does that mean it’s working? He continues regardless. (This can’t be the end.) Almost dizzy from lack of oxygen on his own, Geralt raises his head and takes a deep breath before returning to Jaskier.

It’s with this shared air that Jaskier finally sputters to life, turning to his side and expelling river water. He coughs violently, his voice rasping. Relief floods Geralt. He is going to have to thank Crach an Craite one of these days.

He’ll have to visit Skellige again. (Go to the coast?)

Now that Jaskier is okay, Geralt has little idea what to do with his hands. He places one on Jaskier’s shoulder. Runs his thumb back and forth in what he hopes to be a comforting motion. “Jaskier?”

Jaskier rolls onto his back and closes his eyes. Taps his fingers against his chest. Breathes. Then, “Did- did I-” Another cough. “Did I imagine things… or did you just kiss me back to life?”

Geralt removes his hand from Jaskier’s shoulder and frowns. “That is not what happened.”

Jaskier, the bastard, opens a single eye. Shining with mischief. Geralt wants to wipe that smirk off of his face. “So you didn’t put your mouth on my mouth?”

“That’s not how that works.”

“True love’s kiss, what a beautiful thing!”

“Jaskier.” Geralt looks away, unable to withstand the joy Jaskier is exuding. “We have to go.”

“Truly, Geralt, I wasn’t sure you had it in you. And here we are! Me, alive and… well, not kicking yet. You may have to carry me. Or, oh! Why not kiss me again? If one kiss brings me back from the brink of death, surely-”

“Jaskier-” This is neither the time or place to talk of… such things. He takes a deep breath in slowly. “Just. Shut the fuck up.”

-

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