#I might be a little patriotic

[the-lazy-leprechaun]

Someone said no one could top the 2010 Fifa World cup in South Africa and honestly, looking at the Qatar footage, I have to say I agree

[localfandom]

If you're having a bad day, remember that William is canonically a trans ally.

[shiverandqueeef]

extremely long and detailed answers below! i may or may not have gone full adhd hyper focus mode on this one 😅

VOTE BEFORE GOING ANY FURTHER!!

or read ahead and vote once you know the correct answer i don't control you - you do you bud

there is an american state canadians affectionately refer to as "south canada"

good ol' minnesota! basically, minny and parts of canada (mainly ontario and BC) have such similar climates, flora/fauna, and culture that it's pretty easy to see each other as cross border cousins. it's almost like political borders are social constructs or something. wild. anyways, one factor of the whole two lands pointing at each other and yelling "same hat!" is the not insignificant portion of minnesotans who have canadian ancestry. a shared passion for hockey is another (arguably more significant) factor in canadians' continued fondness for this one very specific region of america.

-> british columbians also really like portland (we find common ground in being unbearably pretentious) but the rest of canada makes fun of us for it.

the base of our national cocktail is vodka, tomato...and clam juice

okay so it's called a caesar and is basically a bloody mary with one major difference. here's a list of ingredients:

and for those not in the know, clamato juice is a combination of tomato and clam.

yeah. istg it's actually a delicious cocktail. though admittedly i may have been indoctrinated at an early age.

we share a land border with our ultimate archenemy: Denmark

The Whiskey Wars! okay so Hans Island is this dinky little uninhabited piece of land literally smaller than 2 clicks long, and both canada and denmark have tried to claim as their own since like, the late 1800s. it was a low key, essentially meaningless land dispute for a decent chunk of the 20th century but then. it's the 80s and a group of canadian soldiers are fucking wrecked on cocaine. they roll up to hans island, plant a canadian flag in the barren ground and place underneath it a bottle of primo canadian whiskey. denmark responds by hauling ass to the flag site and replacing it with their own, drinking the whiskey and leaving a bottle of danish schnapps. thus began 3 decades of international capture the flag, where we basically took turns planting our flags and leaving each other liquor, sometimes with cute little notes trash talking one another. naval ships passing each other in international water and emphatically waving their flags at each other became a time honoured tradition.

in 2022, canada and denmark officially settled the dispute by splitting the island down the middle and each taking half. it was meant as a symbolic gesture of solidarity with ukraine after it was invaded by russia, which. kinda stupid? but also kind of lovely. and now we get to share a land border with our beloved frenemy <3

there is a province in which everybody speaks with an irish sounding accent

girl. please allow me to let me tell you about Newfoundland and Labrador, canada's easternmost province, and an island unto themselves. like they are literally an island but also just so culturally unlike anywhere else in the country. during the colonization of canada, the majority of europeans who settled in the area were from either Ireland or the West Country of england. between the two you have like, 8 distinct dialects, and that's before you add the influence of scottish, french, and algonquian. this linguistic stew bubbled away and over the years has resulted in the newfie accent/dialect. it is delightful. newfies are also just super friendly in general towards visiting mainlanders (but watch out! they will lull you into a false sense of safety with their hospitality and then gleefully drink you under the table. you have never had a hangover like the hangover from a newfie drinking contest. if one challenges you just. say. no.)

they also cook steaks to the point they become utterly indistinguishable from a hockey puck but it's okay, we forgive them.

here's a clip of american comedian Gianmarco Soresi encountering a newfie accent in the wild during a gig in edmonton (the title calls him a 'dumb american' but it's from his own youtube channel)

we had a 90s hair fad called "the beaver" it was like a mullet! but worse :)

NOT TRUE! thank god. although if it was true i'd like to think that it would have by now been appropriated and by some enigmatic lesbian magicks made sexy (as they have so successfully done with the mullet)

we passed a law specifically to ensure "sorry" is not an admission of liability

i know right. apparently because it's so common in canada to use "sorry" not only as an apology, but also as an expression of sympathy, the government instituted "apology laws." they preclude courts, tribunals, and arbitrators from finding that an apology is an admission of liability.

there was this one time we burned the white house down. allegedly. (sorry)

America has actually invaded Canada twice (in 1775 and 1812). they lost pretty much every battle -thanks in large part to the unsung efforts of first nation and indigenous tribes who sided with the british. anyways it was in 1812 that canadians invaded america right back, took control of the capital, and burned a bunch of shit down - including the white house! canadians are very proud of this, despite the fact it was ~technically~ a war between america and britain. "canada" didn't exist as an official country until 1867 but...well. what is historical accuracy in the face of an opportunity to mock america ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

iconic canadian musical comedy trio The Arrogant Worms have a whole song about it. it's a wild oversimplification of events and also a total banger

to this day america's official position is that this very much did not happen.

the majority of canadian kids grow up playing soccer instead of hockey

while hockey is the official winter sport of canada (lacrosse is the official summer sport) and hands down the most watched sport in the country, the majority of canadian families simply can not afford to let their kids play it. with expensive equipment, league fees, and travel expenses (just to name a few), hockey currently costs more than equestrian sports. you can own and care for an actual goddamn horse for less money than it takes to put your kids in hockey. so while most kids grow up playing pond hockey and shinny in the backyard, only a privileged minority ever become involved at a competitive level

our money is plastic, holographic, and semi-transparent (and sometimes pink!)

our money is so pretty you guys!!! it looks like it belongs in a barbie play set. also, every bill has braille on it for the vision-impaired! we are the only country who has this which is. genuinely wtf. it's such an obvious and easy accommodation

just ignore all the faces of various colonizers and imperialists and look at the pretty colours and shiny bits 🙃

and that's all folks! i hope you had fun and maybe learned a little about canada. if you found any of this interesting, i would say "look into more fun and funky fresh canadian history!" but honestly? our history texts are kinda infamously dry and boring. unless you focus on resources from indigenous, first nations, metis and/or inuit voices, and then it gets real interesting real fast. also infuriating. hey did you know canada had chattel slavery for a hot second? anyways this was meant to be about silly things only. here, enjoy this video from a 1994 episode of sketch comedy show Royal Canadian Air Farce ft. legendary Oneida actor Graham Greene

[scarlet-streak-rambles]

William James Moriarty is what MHA fans desperately want Dabi to be and yes, I will be taking questions at this time.

[seeingteacupsindragons]

“(For what it's worth, I don't see Mrgh bits of this aspect in the canon. I have see a lot of aphobia in fanworks for this series)” if you don’t mind, can you please expand on this? :)

This is such a deeply complicated question!

Romance (as a genre) and fandom both have widespread aphobia problems in general. Society does, and because of fandom's focus on sex, romance, and shipping, and romance's focus on the same really bring a lot of those biases out unexamined. Even among fandom people who are a-spec, a lot of them haven't really examined or dealt with those identities in a way that allows for a lot of unpacking of biases. Unpacking biases really requires participating in a community centered around the marginalization, and many of them have fandom-centered communities, or IRL communities of another type.

Unless you follow a blog like mine, where I've been actively involved in the aro and ace communities entirely separately from any fandom activities for a decade, I don't think a lot of fandom people are exposed to this kind of thought and study. And it is a whole field of study, truly. So they just end up parroting the same biases from the rest of society without realizing what they're doing, even if they know words or something.

As for YuuMori, and why I don't find a lot of problematic content on this particular subject (because there are definitely messages it's had I don't agree with or moments that ruffled my feathers the wrong way--it's far from perfect), there's a lot to talk about.

Primarily, YuuMori is not a series that focuses on sex or romance. It's a crime and mystery shonen series. There are almost no canon romantic relationships, and most of them are fairly sidelined. And even with Sherliam, which has so much narrative and canon support for a romantic reading, their relationship is not special because it is romantic. It is, potentially, romantic because it is special (and oh boy is that an a-spec understanding).

YuuMori is in so many ways a celebration of weird and undefined relationships. It's a celebration and has focus on relationships that society is just going to find weird, off-putting, and unacceptable. And that's so queer, and I love that, and while I can't say it's specifically queer on purpose without a very candid conversation with the creators discussing things they haven't yet discussed publicly, it's rich and wonderful and very Relationship Anarchy, which is very common among a-spec people.

In sum, YuuMori is just not a series that dismisses or marginalizes ace or aro experiences. It is not a series that idolizes romantic or sexual relationships. It is not, even, one that finds them particularly necessary.

But once this series comes in contact with fandom, especially in the West, people...start ignoring that. Suddenly Moran and William's weird relationship becomes romantic or sexual, and Albert and William's relationship becomes weird and sexual, and Louis and William's relationship becomes weird and sexual. And on and on. And each of these individually: not a big deal. But when it becomes so omnipresent, it's tiring. It's a cultural swarm of material that adds up to a lot a-spec people feeling once again alienated and dismissed.

And people start obsessing over what romance might be canon and why and which ship makes sense and why and which one is most fun to discuss and why and what does everything think about the sexy and romo potential of things. This is just a fandom thing, but it's just very tiring.

Sherliam's relationship is, of course, the core relationship in the series. So of course fandom focuses on it a lot. But wowwww, the way it becomes the only thing people focus on...

I'm tired.

And as for (a non-exhaustive list of) specific things in this fandom that really bother me on this topic and which I find hurtful as an a-spec person:

Any time people refer to Sherliam's relationship (or any romantic ship) as deeper or more important or more than their relationships with other people (because it is romantic, obviously). That's just a direct aggression, micro or otherwise depending on context, against a-spec people. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. Please stop writing things like this, just in general. Different. Other. Not more.

Goddamn stop referring to wanting sex as being human or normal or healthy. Please do not explain an attraction as, "well, I'm a man," or "well, I'm human," or "well, I have needs." Just. Just, fuck off with all of that. This is, once again, something from greater society, but I see it so much here.

Once more, Sherliam's relationship is potentially romantic and sexual because it is special. It is not special because it is potentially romantic or sexual. Yesus Christ, relationshipsp are often special for other reasons.

Any time a character (WIlliam, Louis, Fred, maybe) is referred to as growing up or becoming adult or learning about relationships or whatever because they want to engage with these things when they didn't before

Ignoring the rich specialness of each relationship to make it romantic. Even when making them romantic, they have such interesting richness and different dynamics, like real romantic couples each have their own special quirks.

All these fucking asks I get asking about which person is "most" important to Sherlock or William or whatever. There is no reason to put relationships in these kinds of hierarchies. We can have it all, and no one relationship could or should be prioritized in such a way that all others can or will be abandoned.

Why do I get so many asks seeking canon support for their ship. Please just ship your thing.

Why do I get so many asks I get asking about shipping things? Did I piss off a god in a previous life? I want to talk about storytelling and narrative, goddammit, not speculate on the potential for romantic pairings. It's another one of those things where culturally is just focusing so much on one thing to the point of marginalizing other things.

[evilminji]

You know how... world leaders can't just? SAY stuff? Because when they DO it's the Offical Stance(tm) of their Country?

That makes their Fuck Ups(tm) all the more serious. It's WHY they have press teams.

But!!!

WHAT IF?

They said something, PUBLICLY, on LIVE TELEVISION, that? Can not be taken back? Full on "masks off, behold the horrors you have payed for" moment?

Sure, they could SAY "that wasn't me" and "I was brainwashed" etc etc. But? If it's BIG enough? UGLY enough? TRUE??? People WILL find it. Dig and dig and dig like termites in the walls. Hunt like bloodhounds.

Riot in the streets.

Because? All it would TAKE? Is ONE half ghost, a few too many long nights trying to balance college classes and his internship, a bigotry filled call from back home, and staring down that empty fridge with just one box of moldering take out, because he's been too busy and stressed to remember to get GROCERIES AND-

Ah.

So this is what "so stressed you feel calm, I have run out of Fucks too give" feels like. Neat. *picks up phone* Hey, Sam? You still at that protest? Outside the presidential speech? Neat. Don't move.

One Phone Line Express later. SAM is telling him to breathe. Maybe... maybe calm down. Think about this. Others around her can see the same "spark of madness" glint in his almost zen like smile.

It Fiiiiine, Sam.

He's just here to Talk.

He disappears. Sam's freaking out. President stumbles but catches himself on the way to the mike. Up in the watch tower, various Magic users choke on their lunches, because a ghost just possessed the United States President.

ON LIVE TELEVISION.

He taps the Mike, smile, leans in real close like he's gonna Tell You Folks A Secret.... Aaaaand~

"The second you Die, you no longer have human rights. Doesn't matter how brief. Heart stops? You're sub-human scum! Non-sentient by American law. We here in the United Stares PROUDLY desecrate the bodies and graves of the dead. Tear apart the immortal souls of the innocent. And condemn you to oblivion crying, begging, and screaming for mercy! Why, obviously, is an act. Because souls don't have the RIGHT to feel fear or pain!

And YES. We do mean EVERYONE'S. Atlantian, Kryptonian, Martian. Canadian, Mexican, Russian, AND Chinese! I could keep going! Once you die? You belong to the United States to experiment on as we see fit! You're PROPERT now! So turn your nonrights having, nonsentient self in to the nearest GIW! For the good of AMERICA. Ectoplasmic Scum!"

*drops mic*

Jaws are on the floor. This was VETERANS DAY. Dead military Heros and smile for the cameras. A cake walk. Do a patriotism, rah rah. There.... there are DIPLOMATS in the crowd. Sure as SHIT, were more then a few foreign nationals WATCHING. Religious leaders looking on in fury, grief, and horror.

Reporters. Oh sweet Jesus the reporters.

The press secretary faints.

PANDEMONIUM. The president, still dazed and confused from being possessed, gets PUNCHED on live television be his VP, a deeply religious if moderately shady man. Take bribes? VP is cool with that. Bootstraps, peasants, and all that. But how DARE you fuck with the Souls of the dead. How DARE you!

Phones are blowing up, questions are being shouted, the JLA Dark FEEL like they should tell somebody about the ghost kid... but also this feels VERY "Call for help-y" so they might throw their weight around instead and pretend they know nothing. World leader are meaningfully staring at their Dear Beloved Dead Grandmother's photos as they send LIVID assistants to hound the American into answering the DAMN PHONE-!

And Danny?

Danny feels calmer now. He has stolen like....700 bucks from secret security's various wallets. He's going to buy himself BOUGIE groceries. Some...some NICE take out. Maybe a little cake. Yeah~ Cake for Danny~

If anyone needs him? No you don't. He needs to go do some shopping, eat, lie on the floor of his shower and just... vibe for a bit under the spray. In the dark maybe. Sleep for a week. Have his food. Yummy little treats.

Or he's gonna fuckin LOSE IT, man.

(Tucker is actively hacking his college schedule as they speak. He KNEW it. Called it! Too many classes! But does Mr "I can handle it" listen? Noooooooo! Now look what happened! Holy SHIT, Danny!)

@hypewinter @hdgnj @ailithnight @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter

[contact-guy]

lol THIS ENDED UP BEING SO LONG but it's such a cute story opening that I had to draw Watson roasting Holmes's messiness for the newspaper and Holmes skillfully maneuvering his way out of having to do chores. It's all canon, even the indoor sharpshooting, except for the bit about the cold bath.

canon text under the cut:

An anomaly which often struck me in the character of my friend Sherlock Holmes was that, although in his methods of thought he was the neatest and most methodical of mankind, and although also he affected a certain quiet primness of dress, he was none the less in his personal habits one of the most untidy men that ever drove a fellow-lodger to distraction. Not that I am in the least conventional in that respect myself. The rough-and-tumble work in Afghanistan, coming on the top of a natural Bohemianism of disposition, has made me rather more lax than befits a medical man. But with me there is a limit, and when I find a man who keeps his cigars in the coal-scuttle, his tobacco in the toe end of a Persian slipper, and his unanswered correspondence transfixed by a jack-knife into the very centre of his wooden mantelpiece, then I begin to give myself virtuous airs. I have always held, too, that pistol practice should be distinctly an open-air pastime; and when Holmes, in one of his queer humors, would sit in an arm-chair with his hair-trigger and a hundred Boxer cartridges, and proceed to adorn the opposite wall with a patriotic V. R. done in bullet-pocks, I felt strongly that neither the atmosphere nor the appearance of our room was improved by it.

Our chambers were always full of chemicals and of criminal relics which had a way of wandering into unlikely positions, and of turning up in the butter-dish or in even less desirable places. But his papers were my great crux. He had a horror of destroying documents, especially those which were connected with his past cases, and yet it was only once in every year or two that he would muster energy to docket and arrange them; for, as I have mentioned somewhere in these incoherent memoirs, the outbursts of passionate energy when he performed the remarkable feats with which his name is associated were followed by reactions of lethargy during which he would lie about with his violin and his books, hardly moving save from the sofa to the table. Thus month after month his papers accumulated, until every corner of the room was stacked with bundles of manuscript which were on no account to be burned, and which could not be put away save by their owner. One winter’s night, as we sat together by the fire, I ventured to suggest to him that, as he had finished pasting extracts into his common-place book, he might employ the next two hours in making our room a little more habitable. He could not deny the justice of my request, so with a rather rueful face he went off to his bedroom, from which he returned presently pulling a large tin box behind him. This he placed in the middle of the floor and, squatting down upon a stool in front of it, he threw back the lid. I could see that it was already a third full of bundles of paper tied up with red tape into separate packages.

“There are cases enough here, Watson,” said he, looking at me with mischievous eyes. “I think that if you knew all that I had in this box you would ask me to pull some out instead of putting others in.”

“These are the records of your early work, then?” I asked. “I have often wished that I had notes of those cases.”

“Yes, my boy, these were all done prematurely before my biographer had come to glorify me.” He lifted bundle after bundle in a tender, caressing sort of way. “They are not all successes, Watson,” said he. “But there are some pretty little problems among them. Here’s the record of the Tarleton murders, and the case of Vamberry, the wine merchant, and the adventure of the old Russian woman, and the singular affair of the aluminium crutch, as well as a full account of Ricoletti of the club-foot, and his abominable wife. And here—ah, now, this really is something a little recherchè.”

He dived his arm down to the bottom of the chest, and brought up a small wooden box with a sliding lid, such as children’s toys are kept in. From within he produced a crumpled piece of paper, and old-fashioned brass key, a peg of wood with a ball of string attached to it, and three rusty old disks of metal.

“Well, my boy, what do you make of this lot?” he asked, smiling at my expression.

“It is a curious collection.”

“Very curious, and the story that hangs round it will strike you as being more curious still.”

“These relics have a history then?”

“So much so that they are history.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Sherlock Holmes picked them up one by one, and laid them along the edge of the table. Then he reseated himself in his chair and looked them over with a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes.

“These,” said he, “are all that I have left to remind me of the adventure of the Musgrave Ritual.”

I had heard him mention the case more than once, though I had never been able to gather the details. “I should be so glad,” said I, “if you would give me an account of it.”

“And leave the litter as it is?” he cried, mischievously. “Your tidiness won’t bear much strain after all, Watson. But I should be glad that you should add this case to your annals, for there are points in it which make it quite unique in the criminal records of this or, I believe, of any other country. A collection of my trifling achievements would certainly be incomplete which contained no account of this very singular business.

-The Memories of Sherlock Holmes: The Musgrave Ritual

[captainmalewriter]

No Escape From Cheating

Oliver Ashley hopped into his car and let out a heavy sigh. It was a warm August afternoon that day, and Ash would rather do anything else than spend his Tuesday getting verbally berated by his superiors for several hours. But despite his grievances, Ash knew there was no point in bitching and whining when this was the life he had signed up for a little over a year ago. All he could do was suck it up until his term of service ended. 

Ash never thought he’d end up serving in the army. He wasn’t the patriotic type by any means. What made him pull the trigger and sign the contract was his desire to start over in life. Ash’s life started going downhill ever since he graduated from high school. He dropped out of college after the first semester, was stuck working a dead-end job he hated, and was trapped in a loveless relationship with a girl he had grown to loathe. After a night of intense drinking, partying, and group sex with random strangers, Ash realized he hated the man he had become. He was disgusted by what he saw in the mirror, so he decided to make a few changes. 

Or rather, a lot of changes. Ash abandoned his old life in Oldeville and ran away to join the military. It was a drastic move— Ash was well-aware of that, but he felt it was necessary to get his life back on track. He took back control by giving up control. 

After yet another long day at work, Ash returned to his room in the barracks. He took a quick shower and threw himself onto his bed with his hands held against his head. The day drained him. All he wanted was to fall asleep fast and hope he’d wake up feeling refreshed. But as he laid against his pillow with his eyes closed, he felt a sudden gust of cold wind hit his body. 

“Hrmphhh!” Ash jolted in bed when it hit him. The pressure was unlike he had ever experienced before. The cold penetrated deep within his body, leaving goosebumps around his skin. 

Ash sat up and scanned his surroundings. The window was closed, and as far as he could tell, nothing looked weird or out of place in his little room. Ash wasn’t sure where that cold wind came from but decided he was too tired to really care about it. He simply ignored it and went back to sleep. But as he snored peacefully, the cause of the cold wind slithered out from underneath his bed. It crept up his bed and watched as Ash’s chest rose and fell with every heavy breath. Then, it made a nose dive straight into Ash’s mouth. 

“Ugh— AAAGH!!!” Ash gagged as the thing invaded his body. 

It slithered inside him at breakneck speeds. With every passing second, Ash could feel an otherworldly presence growing inside his skin. It sent cold chills up his spine. With one final wet slurp, Ash swallowed the last few inches of the translucent body invader. Naturally, Ash shot out of bed after what he had just experienced. He was sweating and breathing heavily as his hands reached out to touch his throat. His eyes darted around the room as he tried to pinpoint the cause but couldn’t find anything. Ash knew something very wrong was happening but had no idea where to start looking for answers. 

As his mind raced with possibilities, Ash’s hand began moving toward his family jewels. Ash watched in horror as his hand moved without his command. His hand massaged his junk through his underwear until blood started flowing into it, causing a tent to form in his briefs. Ash tried telling his hand to stop, but it wouldn’t listen. All Ash could do was scream in terror. 

“What the fuck is going on!?”

Hey Olie, did you miss me? I certainly missed you.

Ash swallowed a breath. He heard a voice echo inside his mind, but it wasn’t just any voice; it was the voice of his old girlfriend, Leah. 

“Leah!? How did you find me!? And what the fuck are you doing inside my body—” Ash gasped. He tried opening his mouth to speak again, but to no avail. He had been cut off from the last part of his body he had control over. 

Shhh! Not so loud babe! Your neighbors might hear us!! I don’t want to spoil our fun tonight while we’re together…

Under his girlfriend’s control, Ash took off the last piece of clothing he had on. His rock-hard member sprang up as soon as it was released from the mesh fabric. Ash then hopped back into bed with his legs spread wide open. He spat some spit onto his hands and began pumping his thick cock. For some reason, his dick was extra sensitive. The sensation of his warm, wet hand wrapping around it made Leah moan inside his mind, forcing Ash to moan alongside her as a result. Ash was humiliated after letting out such a high-pitched, girlish moan, but with Leah controlling his action, there was nothing he could do about it.

Leah!! Why are you doing this?

Why? Why!? Don’t act stupid! You know exactly why! You left without saying anything to anyone! Not even me, your girlfriend!! Did you really think you could just run away without any consequences? You really thought I wouldn’t be able to track you down eventually?

Listen Leah! I’m sorry for leaving you the way I did but can’t we just talk about this like adults? If it’s my dick you’re after, we can just fuck one more time! I’m cool with that!!

Leah uttered a loud cackle within Ash’s subconscious after he said that. Ash swallowed a breath. He had a feeling he just dug himself an even deeper hole.

Wow! Just how egotistical can you be, Oliver? You really think this about getting one last fuck out of you! Men are soo fucking easy, I don’t need to hunt you down across the country just to get some!

Well then why ARE you here you crazy ass bitch!?

Simple. I want revenge.

Revenge for what? For leaving you without saying anything?

Partially that, yes, but mainly for cheating on me. Remember that big party you went to the night before you left? The one you swore to me you weren’t going to go to?

Ash wracked his brain trying to remember, but once he did, he remained quiet. Leah was right, and he knew it. 

You said I was enough for you. You said there was nothing wrong with our relationship. You lied to me. You had me believing everything was fine, just to go off and party with a bunch of people! 

Leah tightened her grip around his cock as she yelled at him. Ash winced from the pain. He had nothing to say in his defense. 

I don't know what kind of girl you think I am, but I don’t take cheating lightly.  

Just as Leah said that, a second blob manifested at the foot of the bed. It hopped onto Ash’s foot and slithered up his leg.

Leah— What’s that? What’s going on!?

If you want a threesome so bad, then I’m here to give it to you. Oliver, this is Aaron, although I’m sure I don’t need to introduce you two. After all, he was one of the many, many people you were fucking that night.

Aaron slithered up to Ash’s hairy hole and brushed around the rim of it. His touch made Ash shudder from the cool sensation. 

Wait!! We don’t have to do this! I can—

It was too late for Ash. Aaron dove right into his virgin hole, causing Ash to recoil from the impact. Leah continued pumping away at Ash’s member with a furious speed to her stroking. Meanwhile, Ash mentally shuddered and thrashed around as Aaron’s presence began growing inside his body. His hole stretched out to accommodate Aaron in his ethereal form. The feeling of Aaron rushing through his ass and into his body was unlike anything Ash had ever experienced before. It filled him up in more ways than one— overwhelming him with sensual pleasure until he was locked in a state of bliss. 

Once Aaron was fully inside, he and Leah took turns playing with the newly possessed body they now shared. They jerked off Ash’s girthy cock, flexed his hard-earned muscles, sniffed his armpits, played with his straight hole, and more. They had both been used by Ash as nothing more than a hole to fuck, but now with his body under their possession, the tables had turned. Now it was Leah and Aaron using Ash’s body to get their rocks off instead. 

Ash was knuckle deep inside his own ass when he finally unleashed his heavy load. Jolts of spunk came flooding out of him, landing all over his bed, walls, and even his torso. He was drained after such an intense tugging session, both literally and figuratively.

“Whewww!! God, that felt so fucking good! Now I see why guys are always touching themselves…” Ash said out loud. No doubt it was Leah using his voice. “Hey, thanks for your help Aaron! I never would’ve thought of doing something like this without your help!”

“Anytime! I’m just glad I got to get one back on this asshole too!”

Ash could hear both of them laughing inside his mind. He groaned.

“Well, I’m out of here. I’ll see you around!!”

With that, Ash arched upward as he felt Leah’s presence leave his body. He watched with relief as she disappeared through the walls. But he quickly remembered it was no time to celebrate, as there was still a second person possessing his body.

“Wait, Leah! Take your gay friend with—”

Under Aaron’s command, Ash’s hand slammed against his mouth. His words came out muffled through his hand for a few seconds, but then gradually died down. Ash settled down into a calm stupor. Then, an eerie smile began to form on his face.

“The pleasure’s all mine, Leah. Really, I should be the one thanking you! After all, I would’ve never found a body like this on my own…”

Aaron hopped out of bed to get a better look at his newly possessed body. He smirked as he rubbed Ash’s load into his skin, his fingertips running along the edges of his new ab lines.

“Oh yeahhh, I think I’m gonna enjoy being a ‘straight’ army hunk for a while. Watch out world, there’s a new Oliver Ashley in town. He’s hot, single, and more than ready to mingle!!”

[yandere-romanticaa]

Thinking about yanderes who know you better than anyone ever did. They know you better even than you know yourself, that's how in touch they are with your life.

I see them as the subtle types, the ones who would perhaps silently admire you from a safe distance. You look charming in the cafe you're sitting in, chatting away with a friend or two about some shared hobbies. He can't help but to stare, but it's only for a few moments! He knows better than to look for too long, he doesn't want to appear like some sort of creep now, does he? He sips on his drink quietly as his eyes ever so slightly go back and forth towards you and the door, ensuring a safe escape route, just in case things go south but they never do.

You're too lost in your own little bubble to notice him.

From that day onwards he starts to... Well, he's not sure how to put it into words.

It's natural for a person to have a crush but what he feels towards you is something much more intense to ever be in the realms of normalcy. If you've ever spoken two words with him would be a miracle but actually remembering him would be downright impossible because he is just not willing to show himself to you. He stalks all your social media, friends and family included. He is informed of where you went to school, your birthday, what jobs your estranged cousins may have. If you're the type to post stuff online, his life is made that much easier. He screenshots everything you post, no matter how silly and commits it all to memory in case he may need it.

If you don't, then it's a bit harder but he manages. He has a good head on his shoulders, even if that same head is telling him to stop doing this, this isn't right but his bleeding heart is screaming at him to please keep going, please, if I'm not keeping an eye on them 24/7 I think I might die.

No human being should ever know someone so intimately but he does not care. Even if you're not 100% in his life, he is content with whatever this is.

One day, he might grow a pair and properly introduce himself to you.

And it would be so cute if you got along just perfectly because you just so happen to like the same things too... He's always prepared.

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ 𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐈𝐉𝐈 (haikyuu), 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘 (moriarty the patriot), 𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐃𝐄𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐇𝐀 (genshin impact), 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐆 (honkai star rail), 𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐋𝐀 𝐇𝐘𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐘𝐀 (seraph of the end), 𝐄𝐃𝐆𝐀𝐑 𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐄 (bungo stray dogs), 𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐊𝐔 𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐘𝐀 (my hero academia)

[khaarl-i]

WTF is a “čert”

-a guide from a bilingual Czech

while English has words like devil and demon, čert is a slavic mythical creature, that doesn’t have an accurate name in other languages

Czech has three (common) words:

Ďábel - THE devil, ruler of hell, usually interchangeable with Lucifer

Démon - demon, used when talking about other creatures from other mythologies

(and the enigma) Čert

Čerti (plural) are the devil's minions. They either work directly in hell or are sent on earth (often as a punishment) to make deals with sinners and drag them into hell. However they’re commonly depicted as silly idiots or playful, mischievous tricksters. And selling them one’s soul is seen as confirmation of their own foolishness (make stupid choices, win stupid prizes).

They look like humans (mostly men, but you can come across a lady here and there), with added goat features- horns, tails and sometimes even hooves. Their clothes are haggard, often featuring furs, they’re covered in soot and other dirt.

While in old tales are seen as an actual threat, nowadays (in mostly atheistic czech society) they’re depicted as pathetic little meow meows- comedic relief characters, laughable villains and even love interests for princesses (turned into humans for their good behavior)

They can be found in basically every other czech TV fairy tale. While I have seen people suggest to just use the word krampus in english, because of the surface level similarities between the two creatures, I wouldn’t recommend it. Because A)they have widely different vibes B)some czech (and other slavic) might punch you in a fit of patriotism

Disclaimer: while creatures like this are in many (if not all) slavic folklores, under varying names, this post is centered around the czechoslovak version, because that’s what I’m familiar with

[i314flix]

[ 7:23 A.M. ] “god, ____, you’re killing me here.”

you glared at jake. you wanted to retort that if anyone had the right to claim that they were being killed at this second, it would be you, thanks to your annoying fever. after all, you have been glued to your bed since yesterday, only getting up when you needed to pee or wished to rummage through the fridge, trying to find something to eat that your appetite might be kind enough to accept. so far, a half-glass of orange juice has managed to get down your throat, as well as a few spoonfuls of rice porridge.

“how the hell am i supposed to leave you like this?” he added when you didn’t answer. “should i make a call and say i’m rejecting the deployment?”

“is that even allowed?”

“no. i’m pretty sure they’ll throw me in the brig and give me a bad discharge or something.”

“then you should leave now, jake.” you weakly pushed his thigh. he was standing beside the bed, dressed in his naval aviator uniform, this permanent worried expression etched on his face. “i promise, i’ll live. it’s just some stupid cold.”

he didn’t move.

“jake.”

“what do you expect me to do?” he raised his arms up in frustration, voice raising a bit. he sometimes had the bad habit of converting his concern into a display of anger. “my girlfriend’s sick. her temperature’s not lowering, she lives alone, and i’m about to leave her for three months because my job demands it. i’m sorry if i want to ditch my patriotic duty for a goddamn day!”

you sighed. you weren’t sure how you were going to make the situation better either, and being scolded by jake didn’t help. it only worsened your headache, this ringing bothering your ears heightening for a second.

“shit, i’m sorry.” you suddenly heard jake mutter almost immediately when he finished talking, and he crouched down to your level, placing a hand over cheek. “i did it again, didn’t i?”

“turned your anger on me? yeah.”

guilt washed over him further. “i’m sorry for being a dick. you didn’t deserve that.”

“it’s alright, babe.” you placed your palm over his hand, a small smile making its way on your lips to appear stronger than you were. “we both know this wasn’t how it was supposed to be. we’re supposed to be sneaking in a quickie before i drive you to the airport and instead i’m sick.”

jake laughed at that. “i hate that i can’t even kiss you right now.”

“i know. i hate it too.”

“i hate that i need to leave.”

“if only you didn’t have to.”

“you sure you’ll be fine?” he asked.

“yeah, positive.” you replied. “i mean, this isn’t the first time i’ve been sick on my own. i’m a grown woman. i can take care of myself.”

“that’s another thing i hate.”

“don’t worry.” you kissed his wrist. “once i’m back on my feet, i’ll tell you.”

that seemed to ease him a little. “i expect you to tell me you’re okay as soon as possible, alright?”

“i’ll even write it in paragraph form with pictures if you want.”

“i’m being serious.”

you smiled wider, sheepish. “yes, sir. i’ll update you as soon as possible.”

he rolled his eyes at your playfulness and leaned in to give your forehead a long kiss. “don’t forget to drink your meds on time. i’ll tell marjorie to check on you every now and then.” marjorie was your elderly neighbor who had a dog you often looked after when she had lengthy errands to do.

you nodded once more, and with a final kiss on your cheek this time, jake said his farewells (reluctantly) and was out of your apartment by the time you were threatening to call coyote to haul him away.

[reystenius-01]

Little Lilo

in which you come home with a feline friend

------

Alexia had gotten home from training a couple of hours ago now, and she was beginning to miss your presence. Since you had a day-off, and today was a session mainly for the midfielders, you had breakfast with your parents, who were visiting Spain for a while. When Alexia had met your parents for the first time, at the World Cup final in Australia, your Barcelona-loving father had practically swooned himself. Your patriotic English mother took a little more convincing, but Alexia managed to win her over through brunch (and a Jenni Hermoso jersey, which your mother immediately hung up in the spare room beside a Mary Earps shirt).

She was heating up one of the dishes on her meal plan when Nala started barking at the door. She wasn't expecting anyone else to be coming over, especially not with the racket Nala was making. With a sigh, she turned off the stove and made her way to the door, wondering who could possibly be causing such a commotion.

Opening the door, Alexia's eyes widened in surprise when she saw her girlfriend standing there, holding a tiny kitten in her arms. But what caught her off guard even more was the sight of yourself – your hair tousled and dishevelled, dirt smudges on your cheeks, and grass stains on your clothes.

“Mi amor, what on earth happened to you?” Alexia exclaimed, her eyebrows shooting up in confusion.

Your eyes lit up with excitement as you held out the kitten towards Alexia. “Look what I found!” you exclaimed, your voice filled with glee. “Isn't she just the cutest thing you've ever seen?”

Alexia couldn't help but chuckle at your enthusiasm, reaching out to gently stroke the kitten's fur. “She's adorable,” she agreed, her heart melting at the sight of the tiny creature. But then she glanced back at you, a puzzled frown forming on her face. “But seriously, what happened to you? You look like you've been rolling around in the dirt.”

Your cheeks flushed slightly as you rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly, taking off your shoes and nearly falling over. “Well, you see, I found this little one wandering around near the park,” you explained. “And, uh, she was in a bit of a pickle, so I couldn't just leave her there. I might have gotten a little carried away trying to catch her.”

“A p-pickle?” Alexia tilted her head in confusion at the terminology.

“She was… in trouble,” you adjusted with a smile, so convincing that Alexia almost didn’t notice your tell. You were avoiding eye contact.

“Mi vida…” Alexia crossed her arms, fixing you with a stern look. 

You gulped, before sighing and caving in, “I might have gotten a little carried away playing with him, but it was worth it.”

Nala, who had been watching the exchange with a mix of curiosity and suspicion, let out a low growl from her spot by the door, clearly not impressed by the new addition to the household.

Now, Nala was equally your child as she was Alexia’s, but you’d have to pull off some insane sweet-talking in order to get your girlfriend to let you keep the furry feline you were holding in your arms.

You sighed, casting a pleading look in Alexia's direction. “Please, mi amor, can we keep him?” Your voice was tinged with hope, Alexia’s heart nearly bursting as you pulled out the best puppy-eyes you could muster.

“You and your soft spot for animals,” Alexia teased gently, reaching out to scratch Nala behind the ears to reassure her.

Your cheeks flushed slightly at the teasing, but you couldn't hide the fond smile that tugged at your lips. “I can't help it,” you admitted sheepishly, pressing a kiss to the top of the kitten's head. “They just... they need someone to look out for them, you know?”

Alexia's heart swelled with affection as she watched you cradle the kitten in your arms, her eyes shining with genuine love and compassion. “Yeah, I know, amor,” she murmured softly, feeling a rush of warmth flood through her at the sight of her girlfriend's kindness.

Nala's growling had subsided, replaced by a cautious curiosity as she sniffed at the kitten, her tail wagging tentatively. It seemed she was slowly warming up to the idea of having a new furry friend around the apartment.

With a soft sigh, Alexia nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Alright, we can keep him,” she relented, her voice filled with affection. “But this is the last one, okay? And you’re on litter box duty. We’ve got enough on our plate with Nala, dios mio.”

An almost comical expression overtook your face. Your baffled expression morphed into one of mock offense as you raised an eyebrow at Alexia. “Oh, so now it's ‘we,’ huh?” you teased, feigning indignation. “Nala sneezes once and you’re on your feet like I just put on a Madrid jersey.”

Alexia chuckled, shaking her head. “Hey, don't be dramatic,” she teased back, nudging you playfully with her elbow. “Besides, Madrid jerseys are an abomination in this household. You know that.”

Your mock offense melted into a grin, unable to hold the act for long under Alexia's playful teasing. “Alright, fair point,” you conceded with a laugh, leaning in to press a quick kiss to Alexia's cheek. “But seriously, thanks for letting us keep him. I promise I'll take care of everything – litter duty and all.”

Alexia smiled at her, reaching out to gently ruffle the kitten's fur. “Hey, I'm all for expanding our little family,” she teased, shooting you a playful smirk. “Besides, Nala could use a buddy to keep her company when we're both busy with training and games.”

Your lips twitched into a playful grin as you shook your head in mock disbelief. “Well, well, well, look at you, embracing your inner cat lady,” you teased, leaning in to press a teasing kiss to Alexia's lips. “I never thought I'd see the day.”

Rolling her eyes, Alexia swatted playfully at your shoulder. “Oh, hush,” she retorted, though the fondness in her tone was evident. “You know you love it when I surprise you.” She leaned in closer, her voice turning softer. “And besides, anything to make you happy, mi cielo.”

You pulled a face, dodging Alexia’s hand that was about to smack your ass as you turned towards the bathroom to give the little guy a bath. “Amor, I swear you suck.”

“Last I remember, bebita, you were doing most of that last night.”

“Alexia Putellas Segura, you are so lucky I am holding Little Lilo right now,” you turned around slowly, a tight smile on your face.

“Little Lilo?”

“IT’S A CUTE NAME!”

-------

[venus-haze]

Watch Honey Drip, Can't Keep Away (Soldier Boy x Reader)

Summary: America’s golden son can't keep his eyes off of you, almost like he wants to devour you whole...or something like that.

Note: Female reader, but no descriptors are used. This is kind of in the same universe as She’s Out To Please, She Pouts Her Best. I know generally men in the ‘40s, let alone Soldier Boy of all people, wouldn’t really consider going down on a woman, but it’s my fic and I get to decide he eats out. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Period typical misogyny, power imbalance. Explicit sexual content involving masturbation and oral sex (f. receiving). Do not interact if you’re under 18.

“Which city are we going to next?” you asked, finally comfortable in the swanky hotel room in Chicago you were roomed in with three other girls from the troupe. Soldier Boy’s Sparkling Sweethearts. People came from miles around to show their patriotism–and get a look-see at the acts. If it weren’t Soldier Boy, it was you and the other Sweethearts. Something for everyone, really. Even in places like–

“Wichita.”

A collective groan filled the space, littered with makeup and dresses that’d inevitably shoved into suitcases in a hurry the moment of checkout. There were more important things to worry about than being organized.

“Better than wherever the hell we were last week. Couldn’t get enough of us on Saturday, and then nearly ran us out with pitchforks after the preacher was through with them Sunday morning.”

“I’m going down to the bar while we’re still in a hotel that has one,” you said. “I’ll be back later.”

“Not if Soldier Boy’s there.” A giggle tore through the room. “Did you see him earlier? He looked like he could eat you alive.”

You weren’t even supposed to have been up there with Soldier Boy during his act, a routine that showed off his powers and preceded his usual rousing speech to get the American public to open their hearts and wallets to the war bonds drive. But Darla had broken her leg while ice skating on a day off in Milwaukee, and Soldier Boy had specifically asked for you to fill her spot.

Your role involved memorizing a few lines from a script and looking pretty while Soldier Boy understandably took the lead, but your “rehearsal” just hours before was little more than going through your lines once before Soldier Boy poured you a shot to “calm your nerves” and spent the following fifteen minutes fucking your mouth before sending you off to get ready for the show. 

Walking up on that stage again after your usual routine with the Sparkling Sweethearts was nerve-wracking. Though you knew what to expect, you still felt like your heart was going to pop out of your chest every time he lifted you above his head or tossed you up in the air and caught you, to the raucous applause and cheers of the Chicagoans and celebrities who’d packed the theater to see him.

“Betty Grable’s in town, so I think she’s the main course,” you said as you left, closing the door behind you and leaving your coworkers to tease you in private.

Among the various hobbies you’d taken up since becoming a Sparkling Sweetheart, people-watching in hotel bars was one of your favorites. He would almost always be there too, an otherworldly presence with an abundance of movers and shakers rotating in his orbit, unable to resist the pull of America’s golden son.

Some of the girls in the troupe didn’t care for him, found him too brash and handsy. You could think of at least one who’d been unceremoniously replaced after loudly complaining one too many times. No one really knew what the extent of his powers were, but after that incident, you suspected enhanced hearing might be among them. Or someone was just a snitch. 

When you stepped into the bar, a quick scan of the room revealed Betty Grable to be nowhere in sight. You didn’t see Soldier Boy either, until a deep voice wrapped around you like velvet.

“There’s my girl.”

“Who, me?” you asked teasingly.

“‘Course you are, honey.”

“Because I heard Betty Grable’s in town—“

He scoffed. “That broad? Who needs her?”

Your chest filled with pride at his statement. She was the pin-up girl of choice for every GI in Europe and the Pacific. Well, almost all of them. His arm settled around your waist as he told the bartender to give you whatever you wanted. The overhead lights in the bar were nice and low, you felt warm beneath Soldier Boy’s gaze. Being the object of his attention always carried weight. He was the world’s first superhero, after all. A living legend. Plenty of other women he could be spending his time with besides you.

Pressing your lips to his cheek, you whispered a ‘thank you’ for the drink, taking in the way he licked his lips, his handsome face so close to yours, still under the slight cover of the shadows. Whoever decided a helmet that covered half of his face would be part of his costume needed serious help. 

“Y’know, if you hadn’t come down here, I might’ve gone up to your room and dragged you out,” he said, lowering his voice so only you could hear. “It’s like you were shakin’ your ass just for me on that stage.”

“It’s called shimmying, and I’m glad you liked it.”

“I was thinking, how about you replace Darla for my act?”

“Permanently?”

“Sure, we’ve got great chemistry,” he said, squeezing your hip, “on and off stage.”

As the night progressed, your conversations with Soldier Boy were interrupted by the slew of people who recognized him, excitedly introducing themselves and asking for a few minutes of his time. He graciously accepted with a ‘You don’t mind, right honey?’ And you shook your head, watching him humor politicians, business moguls, and socialites.

You smiled when the latest one had made their departure, tilting your head the slightest bit. “Do you even remember what my name is?”

“Honey suits you better,” he said, his tongue darting out between his lips. “Bet you taste like it too.”

“You sure?”

“Only one way to find out.”

“I guess so.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple, passing you his room key. “You go make yourself comfortable while I close out my tab.” 

As if he’d even be paying for the drinks himself. It’d probably be billed to the Department of Defense, or that strange company that sponsored the tour. You didn’t pay much attention to who was signing your checks, just that they cashed out when you brought them to the bank.

You balked at his hotel room, far more space than a single man could possibly need. Then again, he rarely spent his nights alone. 

Comfortable. Ridding yourself of your clothes, you climbed into the giant bed, pulling the covers just over your breasts. As you laid back on the plush pillows, you recalled earlier that day when he had swatted your ass as you walked off stage after your act with him was finished, playing it off as a joke to the crowd who cheered and whistled. The simple yet slightly painful gesture had gone straight through you, however, and you worried that there’d be a noticeable wet spot on your satin panties when you and the other Sparkling Sweethearts returned for one last routine to close out the show, your high kicks telling on you.

Biting your lip, you glanced at the door and slipped a hand between your legs. He had only said to make yourself comfortable, nothing specifically about waiting. Gently prodding two fingers against your pussy, you weren’t surprised to find that you were wet already. Your eyes fluttered shut as you pushed your fingers inside, thinking about how his hands felt on you earlier. Strong and steady, big hands that could break you so easily but didn’t.

“Couldn’t wait?” He stood at the end of the bed, fully clothed with his arms folded over his broad chest as he pinned you in place with his disapproving glare.

You gasped, pulling your hand from between your legs. “I was just–”

He clicked his tongue at you, though his eyes betrayed his amusement. “My fault for keeping you waiting too long, doll.”

Soldier Boy joined you on the bed, pulling back the covers you’d pulled over your bare body. He pressed his lips against yours, kissing you with an overwhelming fireceness as he groped your breasts, squeezing down your stomach to your hips and finally your thighs. His lips followed that same path, kissing and biting along your skin that suddenly felt feverish beneath his touch. Still, your pussy ached for him, especially since he had walked in while you were pleasuring yourself, but he wasn’t paying any mind to it.

Until he dipped his head down, licking your wet cunt. In your shock, you pushed your thighs together, as if his intrusion were unwelcome. 

His strong hands held your legs apart, gently squeezing the tender flesh. “I jerked off thinking about this earlier, but nothin' like the real thing, huh?”

You let out a shaky breath, eyes focused on the ornate ceiling. Gold leafing, a Renaissance-esque painting, surely Soldier Boy didn’t care much about that. 

“Eyes on me, honey. You got that?”

Immediately, you looked at him, his blazing green stare burning through you until you nodded. He wasted no time in burying his face between your legs, his tongue flicking against your clit with such force that you realized you had no idea what getting eaten out by a superhero would actually entail. 

He lapped at your pussy with an insatiable fervor that made your legs shake beneath his steady grip. Your moan caught in your throat when he plunged his tongue deeper into you, his nose brushing that sensitive bundle of nerves he’d already teased. 

A whine tore from your throat when he pulled away for a moment, smugly admiring your glistening sex. His lips appeared coated in your juices, and you nearly came at that sight alone.

“Fuck you’re soaked,” he growled appreciatively. “This all for me?”

Who else? As if any other man could make you feel pleasure so intensely, as if that were yet another superpower of his. For a moment you bemoaned a possible future of unsatisfying sex with some regular old Joe–not America’s hero, its fucking sex symbol. But all you could manage was a weak, “Yes.”

Satisfied with your response, he closed his plush lips over your clit, sucking on it like he was pulling from a cigarette, your arousal burning deep in his lungs. You grabbed at the sheets, digging your hands into them as you grind your pussy against his face. Your eyes fluttered shut for a split second, shooting open when he smacked your thigh. Eyes on me.

“Fuck—Soldier Boy,” you moaned. “‘m close.”

He growled against you, the vibrations from his throat edging you closer to orgasm. His inhuman stamina meant he hadn’t given you much of a break since he lowered his face between your thighs. He’d been content to tease you for a while, but he seemed more focused, intentional with the way he ate you out, his attention especially focused on your clit. 

You could feel it, that tightness in your abdomen that was about to snap. Involuntarily, your eyes fluttered shut, and you were on that stage again, in his big arms, bright lights blaring as you stared dreamily at him. Then he threw you in the air, higher and higher until you came back down and–

“Soldier Boy, oh my god–don’t fucking stop,” you pleaded, riding out your orgasm on his face.

His hands held down your bucking hips, your ecstasy overpowered by his determination to bring you over the edge until you were an incoherent mess, muscles aching at the exertion of each orgasm despite him doing all of the work. Light-headed, seeing stars, you reached down, tugging at his hair. That was it. You were tapping out. Mercy.

He granted such, though he pressed sloppy kisses to your inner thighs, nipping at the tender skin. All you could give him was weak moans in return. If you expected to be able to go anywhere else the rest of the night, he’d made damn well sure you couldn’t so much as move from his bed. Maybe that was the idea.  

Your breath caught in your throat when he lifted his head, wiping his glistening lips with the back of his hand, though the evidence of your orgasms was still all over the rest of his face. He kissed you, the foreign taste of yourself filling your mouth, sending a deliciously obscene rush through you. His mouth broke from yours, just for a moment, as he whispered your name against your lips. You realized you didn’t actually know his.

[blond-jerk-tourney]

Blond Sweetheart Tourney: Round 1, Poll 49

Propaganda from submitters Under Cut

Laios Touden

He cares about his sister so much he was willing to solo a red dragon to rescue her. He doesn't care about money, power, or fame, he just wants to help his sister and learn about monsters. He might seem weird and offputting, but his deepest desire is to find a way for people and monsters to live in peace together to make life better for everyone. One of his biggest faults is he assumes the best of everyone.

William James Moriarty

William is a silly little softy who...okay, murders people, but he does that because he's trying to save the country and he's so guilty about it all the time and hates doing it and canonically likes "tea" and "smiles" and dislikes "tears"

I can think of no character that is more self-sacrificing. William sees the pain of the world, sees his brother's pain, and he seeks to change it. To rectify the wrong. To make people get along and to see each other as human beings. To get his brother surgery, to fix classism, to implement the Moriarty Plan. And yes, he does *terrible* things to get there -- and he hates himself for it. And so when it comes time to end the plan, he takes on the burden of everything any of his underlings ever did and tries to purge it, and himself, as the last remaining "blemish" on the world. He gave and gave and gave and gave and gave -- I see no one more deserving of being called "The Blond Sweetheart."

[what-even-is-thiss]

I always go insane over the teeniest tiniest details in video games whether they’re on purpose or not and what I’m thinking about right now is the fact that in fallout 4 the player character holds one handed pistols with both hands and points their weapon down or to the side when talking to people.

No big deal. Maybe not that much thought got put into it. But in 3 and New Vegas the pistols are held with one hand and the weapon never gets pointed down. The animation to put guns away in first person is also a different movement.

And I at least choose to believe that the fallout 4 protagonist handles guns like someone that’s been trained to handle guns. Nate was a soldier. It’s possible he taught Nora how to shoot. They were a patriotic couple. There are certain types of people that would take someone out to a date at the gun range.

I like to imagine a time before the bombs fell. Maybe when he’s on leave just for a couple of weeks. She’s losing sleep because of her upcoming finals. He goes “Hey, wanna shoot something?” She says “yeah I think I need to.”

He takes her to a gun range, ear protection and everything. Shows her how it’s done. Tries to get romantically behind her to move her hands into place. She tells him off a little for not taking this seriously. Maybe she starts going on her own when he’s gone. Maybe either of them might think about that first time at the gun range. Just in flashes, in passing moments, shooting at a raider, showing an inexperienced companion how to change their ammo faster. They see in their mind for a second that one brief moment of catharsis. Date night at the gun range, two sets of hands on a pistol before everything went boom.

[temtamtom]

Please ignore the fact I accidentally posted this and then deleted it okay anyways

These two have had a myriad of personal conflicts over the years. They had a difficult relationship as children and then spent the rest of their adolescence and early adulthood separately. They interacted, of course, and they saw each other as brothers, but that was it. We are related by blood, but I don’t see you as FAMILY family. If that makes sense. But if I had to pick their biggest fight, it would be:

Tl;Dr: Emotions were running high and unchecked after Italian unification, leading to a blow-out fight when Romano announced that he was moving to America for a little while.

I need to provide some context and explain my headcanons, so this might be a long one kjdfgk I hope it makes sense! Also, a warning because my Feli isn't all that canon-compliant ;; but I think he's a bit more accurate to the northern attitudes of the time

There's a common headcanon within the fandom that Romano was entirely against unification and resisted it from the start. I think this is a bit of an inaccurate and an over-simplified perspective. By the early and mid 1800s, there were many instances of uprisings against absolutism in Southern Italy, which strove for more liberal ideals. The revolutionaries wanted a constitutional monarchy, or even a republic. Through their uprisings and the creation of a secret, revolutionary network across the peninsula, revolutionary ideals began to spread throughout and inspire others.

This is of course a gross oversimplification of the history, but I’m bringing this all up to illustrate the idea that Romano was starting to grow tired of the “status quo”, and was desperate for a change. Unification wasn’t necessarily what he had in mind at first, especially when we consider that he and Feliciano were pretty distant at this point in time. However he soon got swept up in the fervor and optimism of the patriots, and he began to believe in their vision. He believed in a future where he could finally be truly independent- free to call the shots and live his life freely without the worry of being tossed around and claimed by other European powers. He believed in a future where, maybe, he could have a family again. To fix what was broken between him and Feliciano. Romano may come across as quite crude, but he’s a very passionate man. Someone who loves and craves so deeply, to the point where his heart/imagination can far outrun him.

So imagine the betrayal felt when he realized that unification wasn’t working in his favour. He was practically discarded, and seen as “lesser than” his northern brother. His brother, who treated him as an oddity, and had an air of moral superiority over Romano. They kept each other at arm's length, as though they were roommates forced to endure the other, rather than two brothers sharing a home. Disillusioned and hurt, Romano felt like a fool for believing in a dream that didn’t come true. 

Feliciano struggled with many emotional grievances, which Romano wasn’t privy to. He lost his long-time husband/partner just a few decades prior, and instead of taking the time to confront the grief, he picked himself back up and turned his attention towards independence and unification. He threw himself head first into uprisings, wars, political negotiations, and rallies- all to achieve this patriotic goal of forming “Italy”, and perhaps to distract himself from the loss (though he won’t admit it). He also thought, maybe foolishly, that his life would get better after unifying with his brother. That he would have a family again, that he wouldn’t feel so alone, that he would love and be loved and they could hold hands and skip happily into a field of sunshine and rainbows and everything would be okay– 

What should have brought them together, they both realized, seemed to drive a deeper wedge between them. The reality was that they were incompatible. They couldn’t stand each other. To Feliciano, Romano was nothing but an uncivilized brute who only complained and never wanted to work, and lived to insult him every day. To Romano, Feliciano was a pompous, stuck-up elite asshole who refused to acknowledge the very real pain and disillusionment of his new, southern citizens. Both brothers felt as though everything- all the blood, sweat, and tears- was just a massive waste.

As you can imagine, it was a VERY tense and unhappy household for many reasons. They began to argue. A LOT. Fights that were far uglier than the scraps they had as children. It got to a point where they couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as each other.

It all came to a head, however, when Romano announced that he was leaving. He had his motives, reasonable ones too, but Feliciano didn’t see that. All he saw was his no-good, lazy brother abandoning him and their country after all the effort they put into creating it, leaving him with all the stress and work while he galavants off to America. This was the straw that broke the camel’s back. The announcement devolved into an explosive fight. Things were said that, to this day, haven’t been fully forgiven. With all the anger and tension, they probably threw in a few good punches as well. Romano eventually left, and Feliciano thought to himself “Good riddance”. However as time wore on, they couldn’t help but think about the other, wonder how they were doing, and reflect on how they parted ways. 

Things were still a bit tense when Romano returned, and they didn’t acknowledge the fight for a while. However, they began putting a bit more effort into rekindling their relationship. It took some time, and it wasn’t an easy journey, but they’re in a much healthier place now than before. They’re glued at the hip, they share everything, they know every little quirk and detail about the other, and they’ve begun to love each other as family (though teasing and head-butting is a common occurrence). 

If you asked them back then if they would go through unification, they would be incredibly iffy. But if you asked them now, they would likely say yes. They wouldn't trade their brother for anything in the world.