#based in an intention but losing the weight of it when it’s executed

[folerdetdufoler]

Your last reblog makes me want to bring up a point that i feel like not enough people talk about how goofy even actually is. Like… he does have this superpower where he can turn on the intense charm without even trying. It’s almost second nature and very few ppl posses that raw skill. BUT - isak also had on those “even is so sexy and cool and mysterious and I can’t tell if I want to be him or be with him” goggles for most of s3 so it’s easy to forget but like.. WHO decides that the best way to get noticed by a cutie is to steal all the paper towels from them while you’re in the restroom?? it honestly makes me laugh I just love him so much. I’m sure his friends are constantly in awe by how easily he’s able to pull anyone who crosses his path but at the same time be the goofiest dork on planet earth

🗣️🗣️🗣️

[zoroara]

It's a bit hard to introduce this post without a little background here, So, I'm currently writing an alternate universe story, called What could have been. While these designs are a long way off as of writing this post(we are still so far in the past right now) different circumstances lead to them having different designs.

I also had so much fun making these designs and challenging myself to keep within the characters looks and making them unique against the old and each other. Making the future versions a more proper evolution. Anyway! Design notes below! Also spoilers for the fic of course.

All Varia uniforms are darkened in this version from their normal colours, this is as an overall so they feel like they can hide in the darkness better. Small accessory exceptions exist however.

Future arc designs have light whitish silver stripes, and colours changed based on rank. Leader - red, captain - blue, executives - purple, regular grunts have no additional colour

For Xanxus Past

Mostly the same, has no scarring due to not being frozen

Based on headcanons for him he's bulkier than canon Xanxus, especially since he was never frozen, thus within headcanon didn't lose the weight while in there

New addition of actual holsters, or at least moving them from being on his uniform's goddamn ass, amano why there of all places

Future

Similar, to both previous design and canon design to meld it better while giving him a bit more unique flourish

Deep wracking guilt causes him to avoid people and purposely ignore his own needs, lost a lot of weight

Scarring from being frozen exists, but does not go up to his face, gloves added to hide it mostly

addition of a slight beard because of regular headcanon of him growing one out when he's TYL, this one is rougher though than usual

For Squalo Past

Firstly sword is not part of his arm, lessons from Tyr(OC version of the previous Varia leader) taught him the importance of not limiting himself in his combat options(Tyr noting while he's a great swordsman having only one hand leaves a massive blind spot for himself that he has to protect constantly. He does not willingly lose his hand here either.)

Carries his own sword as well as Tyr's now, but rarely uses the latter, it's for special occasions

styled his Varia uniform mostly after Tyr, rolling up his sleeves, adding additional straps at the top, leaving it open, and keeping a black in-lining with it.

additional note, he puts his hair up for battle.

Future

Diverges and settles more into his style but keeps some parts of the previous coat, inside is now a deep blue to match with the rest of his coat and the previous version

the length and opening is actually taken from his first appearance in canon

now uses belted boots like Tyr

For Belphegor Past

most of it is the same, made the armbands(?) into Belts

Turned base belt white as well to match the rest

added two belts to his leg to add to his asymmetrical look

added a spiked collar

added small little black inserts where he keeps his knives that line his sleeves and inner coat

added a gem to his tiara

given fangs as per headcanon

Future

the above is carried over

changed thigh high boots to knee high in order to fit with his belts(made them have a clear zipper too)

turned fluffy collar to look more like the ones royals have

slightly edited spike collar to have a matching gem to the now 3 on his tiara, and make the spikes into studs

added more to the collar going down his coat to give more royal feel

For Lussuria

Past

Turning feather boa into a feather collar

gives two metal knees with no intention for hiding, allowing the skirt to be slightly shorter for decorative purposes

Adds a pair of gloves that go up his biceps, they have metal knuckles and elbow pads attached.

Boots have a mixed material of tougher rubber and metal at the soles of the boots though a decorative decal has been added to the front

Future

Fur collar more fluffed up

Coat has fluff at the bottom, and is asymmetrical shorter on the side with his skirt

Given thigh high boots where metal knees are attached, and similar decals to past version are dded

Gloves now have proper "brass knuckles" as part of them

Tank top replaces shirt and tie

as per headcanons I removed the Mohawk and added tattoos on him

To fit better with the purple i changed the colour of his hair to a more teal to purple gradient, a bit more reminiscent of pastel peacock colours too

Added lipstick

For Levi A Than Past

Turned all Belts to white as they were in the manga

changed cross straps into regular tactical military straps + little storage for him(Made them black because the design was too busy as anything else)

Kept his boots and gloves from early varia arc appearance as main stay

Changed middle belts to little button places

added two more parabolas so he's not defenceless while using Levi Volta(A lesson he learns much earlier due to not being prevented from field work for the 8 years of Xanxus being frozen! Since that doesn't happen here.)

Future

Above is transferred onto the design

Colours inverted on the gloves with the belts, same with the boots

added lightning insignia to cuffs of coat

Split coat tail into 3 sections

kept piercings as per head canons

Now the last two, who share a page due to the fact they each only have one relevant design that I needed to redesign

For Mammon

Changed their cloak into a cape, the chain they always wear now is the clip for the cape

gave them a long sleeve tunic under the cape

changed their gloves to reach their elbows and are tied with bandages

actually gave them a varia belt to help break up their shapes

gave them calf high boots with bandages to match their gloves

gave them longer hair as per headcanon

their smaller form wears this outfit too but smaller

Also gave them varia emblems on their cape

For Fran

made hat smaller with eyes that will react to surroundings, I also gave it purple cheeks

changed the collar of his coat to the more pointed design, but gave him a turtle neck to replace it

gave him white gloves, but also put little black finger pads on them

removed the four big clunky pouches on his design

added a belt to break up shapes better

added a few more stripes on the lower half of the coat

made boots knee high instead of ankle height

If you read all of this, thank you! I had so much fun with them and became very enamoured with them. They're definitely more to my tastes but hey that's how it is.

[jays-rus]

Wolf Love, Betrayal, Devastation

(Summary: Y/n, a wolf in disguise and member of a terrorist organization, infiltrates Task Force 141 to gather information for a devastating plan. During her time undercover, she forms a deep connection with Ghost, but the weight of her secret becomes unbearable. When Ghost discovers her true identity, he confronts her with anger and betrayal. Y/n pleads for understanding, revealing her conflicted loyalties and love for him. Eventually, Ghost chooses to spare her, and Y/n sets off the bombs, decimating Task Force 141's base. The surviving members of the unit, fueled by anger and grief, embark on a relentless pursuit of Y/n for justice. After months of searching, they corner her, but instead of seeking revenge, they choose to hand her over to the authorities. Y/n accepts her fate, and Task Force 141 proves their strength by prioritizing justice over vengeance.)

In the shadows of the night, Y/n prowled through the dimly lit streets, her senses heightened and her heart pounding. She was a wolf in disguise, a predator hiding in plain sight. Deep within her, a fire burned, fueled by a cause she believed in, one that drove her to take risks that most would never dare to consider.

Y/n had been recruited by a clandestine terrorist organization that sought to dismantle the world's military forces. Their latest target was Task Force 141, a renowned counter-terrorism unit that had become a formidable obstacle in their path. Y/n's assignment was to infiltrate their ranks, gathering vital information that would ensure the successful execution of their devastating plan.

With meticulous planning and unwavering determination, Y/n managed to earn a place within Task Force 141. She assumed a new identity, concealing her true intentions beneath layers of deception. Her skills were undeniable, and soon she became an integral member of the team, earning the trust of her fellow operatives.

Among them was Ghost, a legendary soldier renowned for his loyalty and fierce dedication. As days turned into weeks, a deep connection formed between Y/n and Ghost, fueled by their shared experiences on the battlefield. Y/n felt an undeniable pull towards him, his strength and unwavering commitment to justice drawing her in.

But as time wore on, the weight of her secret grew heavier, threatening to tear her apart. The organization's plans were nearing fruition, and Y/n knew she had to make a choice. She could expose herself, reveal her true allegiance to Ghost and risk losing him forever, or she could continue her mission, setting off the bombs that would decimate Task Force 141's base.

One fateful night, as Y/n wrestled with her conscience, Ghost stumbled upon a classified document, unveiling her true identity. Betrayal and rage consumed him as he confronted her, his weapon trained on her trembling form. The love he felt for her clashed with the duty that defined him, and the battle between his heart and his allegiance raged within.

Y/n pleaded with Ghost, her voice trembling with desperation. She revealed her conflicted loyalties, explaining how her choices were driven by a misguided sense of justice. Tears streamed down her face as she confessed the depth of her feelings for him, begging for his understanding, his forgiveness.

For a long moment, silence hung heavy in the air. Ghost's grip on his weapon wavered, the struggle evident in his eyes. His heart tore at the seams, but ultimately, his love for Y/n won out. With a heavy sigh, he reluctantly lowered his weapon, his trust and devotion shining through the darkness.

"Go," he whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of sorrow and determination. "Leave this place, and never let me see your face again."

Y/n's heart shattered, a mixture of relief and devastation coursing through her veins. She had won a reprieve, but at the cost of the man she loved. With one last lingering look, she turned and fled, disappearing into the night.

-

As the sun rose over the horizon, casting its golden light upon the abandoned base of Task Force 141, Y/n watched from a distance. Her heart heavy with the weight of her actions, she knew the time had come to unleash the chaos she had helped orchestrate. The bombs were set, their destructive power inevitable.

With a heavy heart, she pressed the button that would seal Task Force 141's fate. The ground trembled beneath her as explosions ripped through the air, consuming the base in a fiery inferno. The echoes of the blast reverberated in her soul, a haunting reminder of the love she had lost and the path she had chosen.

Y/n disappeared into the depths of the shadows.

-

Deep within the aftermath of the devastating explosion, the smoke cleared, revealing the remnants of Task Force 141's base. Despite the immense destruction, the members of the elite unit miraculously survived. Anger surged through their veins, fueled by the betrayal that had nearly cost them their lives.

Ghost, his determination unwavering, led the charge to track down Y/n. They scoured the globe, following a trail of breadcrumbs left in the wake of her disappearance. Their mission was no longer about justice; it was a thirst for vengeance, an unyielding desire to make her pay for the lives lost and the trust shattered.

With each step, their resolve hardened. Price, Soap, and the rest of the surviving members of Task Force 141 forged ahead, their hearts heavy with grief and fury. They refused to let Y/n's actions go unpunished. Ghost, though torn between love and loyalty, knew that justice demanded action.

Months turned into a relentless pursuit, as they followed Y/n's elusive trail, piecing together the fragments of her past and the present. The team grew stronger, their camaraderie forged through shared pain and unwavering determination. They trained harder, prepared themselves for the inevitable confrontation that awaited them.

Finally, the day arrived when they cornered Y/n in a desolate hideout, deep in the heart of a forgotten city. The air crackled with tension as the members of Task Force 141 closed in on her, their weapons raised, their eyes filled with a mix of rage and sorrow.

Y/n stood before them, her gaze steady, though weighed down by guilt and regret. She had prepared herself for this moment, knowing that her actions would come with grave consequences. The love she had once shared with Ghost now seemed like a distant memory, overshadowed by the irreversible damage she had caused.

Ghost's voice cut through the silence, laden with a mix of anguish and resolve. "You thought you could escape the consequences of your betrayal, but we survived. We're here to make sure you answer for what you've done."

Y/n lowered her head, tears streaming down her face. "I never wanted it to come to this," she whispered, her voice heavy with remorse. "But I was blinded by a cause that I thought was just. I am prepared to face the consequences."

The members of Task Force 141 closed in, their weapons trembling in their hands. Hatred swirled within them, the desire for retribution consuming their every thought. Ghost's finger tightened on the trigger, his heart aching with the impossible choice before him.

And then, amidst the suffocating tension, Price stepped forward. His voice cut through the air like a knife, his expression hardened but resolute. "No. Killing her won't bring back our fallen comrades. It won't heal our wounds. We will let justice prevail, but not through vengeance. We will hand her over to the proper authorities, and they will decide her fate."

Ghost's eyes locked with Price's, the unspoken understanding passing between them. Reluctantly, he lowered his weapon, his love for Y/n warring against the darkness within. The team followed suit, their thirst for revenge giving way to a semblance of righteousness.

-

Y/n collapsed to her knees, overwhelmed by the weight of their mercy. Her heart bled for the lives she had shattered, the pain she had caused. She accepted her fate, ready to face the consequences of her misguided actions.

In that moment, Task Force 141 proved that their strength lay not only in their firepower but also in their ability to rise above vengeance. They chose a path paved with justice, allowing the law to determine Y/n's fate. And as they turned away from the shadows of their shared history.

[kamandzak]

Sentences in my new WIP that hurt to write

Working title: Render me Speechless

Premise: Army medic Sam Taylor (narrator) loses his best friend and is left with a letter revealing secrets about her life. Said secrets lead to Sam landing in New Orleans to complete a mission; a mission that will turn into a journey of mutual healing as common threads between two trouble men blend seamlessly with their growing feelings.

"I was on the Formula One racetrack to nowhere for what felt like both minutes and lifetimes and when I finally hit the wall, I was on the sidewalk running in front of a small row of attached townhomes. If my life depended on giving directions to my current location, I’d be hung out by my heels and shot, and that would have been a welcome alternative to the real world."

"There was something horrifyingly stagnant in the knowledge and sensation that I was simply nowhere and nothing. What was life, and who was I, and why hadn’t I died instead of Cass, and why was I too much of a coward to put myself out of my own misery? I didn’t deserve to be alive."

"It was as if I no longer held the rights to my own bones."

"'Do you dissociate a lot? It’s nothing to be ashamed of,' he added quickly. 'It’s just a way to keep parts of you safe. It’s you protecting you in the only way that seems to work.' Will was staring straight ahead as if he hadn’t just encapsulated my yo-yo-ing brain in such a simple and clear way. 'It probably feels like everyone is watching but in the end we know who we are and taking care of yourself to the tune of others music will only muffle yours.'"

"Part of the programming of my childhood – intentional or not – was that only I could fix my problems and that the easy way was most likely a shortcut. You wouldn’t follow XYZ off a cliff, would you? Maybe not, but if I’m on an island that’s ablaze and there’s a boat at the bottom of the cliff, I’d rather live."

"I hated Cassie’s last few moments but I would have rather shouted them from the mountaintops than think about the version of me that would never set foot in the US again."

"The weight had dropped and all I could do was sit and be clung to by a man drowning in the finality of what a complete stranger had thrown into his life."

"J burst into sobs so gut wrenching I felt nauseous. They weren’t the cries of a dying soldier passing me his valuables so they could be sent to his partner. They weren’t the wails of a spouse who flew a distance to ID their loved one. These were the sounds of a man lit on fire; a man so distraught I wished I had snuck a gun into the ER so I could put him out of his misery."

"Being raised by a narcissist did a number on my childhood, namely that I never really had one. Being constantly forced into a mold meant I never found my default self. Add my unstable and impressionable mother with her own demons and I was a parentified child by my teens. No matter the issue, I was expected to find a solution and impartially execute. No fix equaled failure. Failure equaled blame. Blame laid the foundation and expectation and realty that any negative connections to said lack of fix was therefore my fault.

Adults have the experience and mental acuity to find the most effective fixes and the best ways to apply them. Ten-year-old's don’t."

"There was no doubt in my mind that combat had royally fucked me up. Beyond the injuries resulting from an ambush on our makeshift base, the range of ways in which every aspect of my existence was a barren wasteland terrified me. The Army had given me a place and purpose after a not-so-stellar childhood. The fact that something I held so close was also the reason I’d never feel comfortable in my own skin again broke my heart. It was all I had had and all I would ever have."

[goldemas1244]

Heyyyy I have a question :3

Do you have any headcanon/s for these character : Scraptrap, Scrap Baby, Lady Dimistrecu, the three daughter of Lady D, Heisenberg and/or Molten Freddy ? :3

You don't have to do all the proposition, you can choose what character you want to do :3

Have a good day/evening and stay safe ! :3

*Cracks knuckles* \(^v^)/

You already know I'm doing all of them! Thank you for the ask! Headcanons under the cut!

FNaF6

Scraptrap

He loves rice and would do anything to get his paws on it. Fortunately, the pizzeria is quite close to a Chinese restaurant so rice is easy to get.

He orders a rice-based menu at least three times a week, so the owners aren't at all that surprised to see a tuxedo-clad zombie-rabbit come in and ask for their signature fried rice with buttered lobster on the side.

Since he like to dine-in there, he usually asks Michael to give him a bath in exchange for pizzeria improvements. Michael usually shrugs and gives him a well-deserved bubble bath and his tuxedo.

He likes it when Michael gives him head pats and rubs. It makes him feel loved and appreciated.

He has a pet pigeon named Fernando Buschmann. It's German and likes to listen to the violin.

He likes ASMR and memes. ASMR makes him go feral with murderous intent while memes make him question the modern generation.

He has social media accounts, all named "Willton-Moldover". He usually posts cosplays and furry art on them and has 93 followers on his Reddit profile, 1.5 million followers on his Instagram, 550 followers on his Tumblr, 35 on his Snapchat, and 3.95 million on his TikTok.

He also has a YouTube channel with 10.784 million subscribers called "Willton-Gameover". He plays videogames one-handed and roasts popular YouTubers and famous people. He would never roast Keanu Reeves though, because Keanu Reeves is precious bean.

Due to his popularity he gets a lot of hate mail and private pics. He doesn't like them at all so he blackmails the people who post them. And if the media and police are involved? Well, he has a strong fanbase that's not going down as well as a good alibi so that works out well for him.

Yes, his fanbase also knows of the Fazbear Murders, and he admits to it but frankly, he's shown them the approving ghost kids (who've bonded and gamed with him) so that's no big deal. Only Cassidy hates him, but it's usually constipated anger.

He's bisexual and has an ENORMOUS crush on one of his favourite game characters, Karl Heisenberg. Something about that man reminds him of himself and Henry, although he's not sure what. Still, don't let that distract you from the fact that he owns a nude Karl Heisenberg body pillow, CAPCOM official.

Scrap Baby

Her favourite Monster High doll is Draculaura. She doesn't understand how pink goes well with black but oh boy, pink goes so well with black.

She knows how to skateboard like a pro. Despite her weight, her trusty skateboard still stands and, if she falls, she's always got her skates to spare. She likes to impress the boys at the skatepark with her ability to perform even the most difficult of moves with ease.

She's subscribed to fifteen different tabloid subscriptions. She likes to read them and criticize the stupidity of the human race, like her father. Hey, it's hereditary.

The lights in her boobies glow in the dark. They also glow whenever she gets tired.

She likes reading furniture and gardening catalogues. She's judgy of the prices though and usually becomes a full-on critic with Lefty listening.

She owns a crab named Mr. Tootie. No I will not elaborate on the name. I'll only tell you that it's taken a liking to kazoos and party favours.

She's listed as the No. 1 Best Fan of her father's social media accounts. Michael's in nineteenth place but don't worry, he's as emotionless as a mushroom.

She likes to make origami lotuses. She's such a pro at it that she's even got a mini-stall at the pizzeria: 1 lotus for 50 cents. It's a lucrative business, and it's still growing. Oh, and she switches to other origami works of art every week such as origami guns and origami nine-tailed foxes.

She's the Restaurant Rescue manager. Usually she saves kids from trouble. For this reason, yes, she's commonly seen in the pizzeria itself. Kids love her though the claw worries the more irksome parents.

She's a professional Karen dealer. Karen comes to see the manager? She's hypnotically talented in weaving her words through the toughest of craniums so don't be surprised if a Karen walks out with a new viewpoint of life.

She performs on stage on the occasion, which usually gets her a lot of fan love. She cherishes everything good they give but ignores the problematic everythings. Problematic stuff? Oh, she's good friends with the police chief.

Molten Freddy

He loves noodles. Give him a bowl of ramen and he'll shut up for the entire night. Enter him in a noodle-eating competition and his high metabolism rate means absolutely non-stop spaghetti.

He misses Bon-Bon very much. To the point where he's even tried to make a scrap version of him. Sadly, it doesn't work. He cried that day.

He dies inside whenever he finds out there's a spaghetti shortage in Utah. Poor Molten.

He's a bit wonky, but if he tries to play with you or get into your personal space, don't get mad at him! He's just lonely and wants someone to talk to and play with.

He likes to play Exploding Kittens. It's the only card game he's good at. It's also the only card game he owns.

He sees Helpy as a little brother and boops his nose on a daily basis. He also likes to reenact The Lion King with him (It's the ciiiiiircle of liiiiiife~). Hopefully Helpy doesn't mind.

He knows a lot of jokes in a lot of languages. So German-speaking Molten Freddy wouldn't be too far away from expectation. His favourite jokes are in French though; the wordplay is just immaculate.

He's good in French, English, German, Russian, and Malay. He's currently learning Japanese because he's a mega weeb.

His favourite cartoon is Charlie and Lola. He just likes to see the sibling shenanigans as it somehow reminds him of the good old days.

His favourite shows would be prankster shows. He especially loves the ones that give him new and creative ideas. He doesn't like the scary ones though. They make him feel unsafe and give him anxiety.

Surprisingly, he has a distinct taste for opera. He can modulate the remnants of his voice box to perfectly sing I Am The Very Model Of A Modern Major-General. This both pisses off and impresses Henry to an extent.

Resident Evil 8

Lady Dimitrescu

She might act like the opposite but she really loves Heisenberg as her little brother. His determination, strength, speed, dexterity, and workaholic nature impresses her, who can't even fit through a doorway. She sometimes wishes she's as short as him too.

She's an avid collector of glass, porcelain, and anything fragile. It's a good reason to always be careful where you tread in her lair. She'll make you swallow every last shard if you don't.

She's an avid romance fanatic and is very loving towards the romance novels she owns. All those books you see in the in-game library? They're her collection of lesbian romances that she's collected over the past decades.

She doesn't like hats and prefers to stick to the one she wears in-game. She DOES have a collection of hats though. Last anyone counted, there were over fifty, one or two for each decade she's lived through.

She files her nails on a constant basis and owns an ornately decorated nail-clipper. Hygeine is of the utmost importance. She doesn't want to be compared to that filthy Heisenberg.

Despite her size and carefulness she keeps losing her stuff. Over the course of a week she could misplace three wine glasses, two reading glasses, and fifteen bottles of wine.

She's an expert at dodgeball and golf and even owns a lifetime access to the most prolific Country Club in Romania. With permission from Mother Miranda she goes there every year for the yearly party. It's one of the times she gets to see modernity (and Ed Sheeran) at its finest.

She loves bands from the 1920s and 1940s. However, she gets bored of them occasionally and switches them to something more modern, like Ed Sheeran. Seriously though, what is up with mums and Ed?

She's into executions and torture methods. So it's no surprise that she's a HUGE fan of Horrible Histories; even if she can't watch the show, she'll binge-read the books over and over again. She's even had the chance to encounter (and receive an autograph from) Terry Deary. They have sworn a bond not to tell anybody about this.

She loves exotic animals like anacondas and jaguars. She may or may not have owned a 10ft long Saltwater Crocodile (which was also about 5ft wide).

She's an incredible physicist and mathematician. She's also created many original formulae but unsurprisingly, she doesn't tell anyone about them, for fear that either more people may know of her, or that she may be wrong.

Dimitrescu Babes

They can devour an entire human being in mere seconds as flies. It's sort of like the scarab beetles in The Mummy movies. However, unlike the beetles, they are able to strip the bones as well. They leave nothing behind.

They all know how to play the piano with varying levels of success. Daniela can already play professionally while Bela is still stuck on Grade 5.

They love to listen to their mother when she tells them stories. Gotta hand it to 'em, when you're a fly, you know how to enjoy life in its most simple of moments.

They all love being around the hunky Soldats of Uncle Karl. Fortunately, they don't know of the rebellious plan to conquer Miranda.

Bela is bisexual, Cassandra is asexual and pansexual, and Daniela is demisexual.

It gets hard when you're a fly during the summer. If it's not the lizards, spiders, and other predators, it's the heat. Because of this, despite the material waste, they have invented the world's first blood-powered air conditioner.

The three girls have never ever ever touched a stove or oven in their life. They HAVE touched the hot end of an iron though. A good reason to not touch a bloody oven. Alcina has though, but doesn't tell them that.

They love puppies! Uncle Karl brought them a baby labrador. For the rest of the week Alcina had lost quite a bit of favour from them. Not that they minded of course. IT'S A PUPPY.

They don't like snow one bit. Not just because it's cold, but because it's too white. Too bright. Too shiny. They just can't focus on their prey!

They like to go over to Auntie Donna to play with Angie. Well, you know what they say, crazies attract the crazies, and the crazy has attracted the crazies.

They also like to go to Uncle Moreau's because he's the only one in the village with a PS4. Usually they'd spend about three-quarters of a day playing his games and eating his cheese.

Karl Heisenberg

He owns a dark blue armchair named Junkyard. Despite the name, he loves it dearly because it was a gift from Alcina for his twenty-first birthday. It became part of his final transformation too. Right under the hat.

He's a little blind in the right eye, much to his annoyance. It was a minor accident with Sturm; another reason for him to hate the uncontrollable wretch. He'll never live that day down.

Somehow, he sees better in the dark, which is why he wears such tinted glasses. He also wears them to hide his expressions, since, more often than not, he tends to end up wearing his heart on his sleeve, and his emotions in his eyes.

He's under a lot of pressure so it's no surprise that he breaks down in his factory when he knows he's alone. And by break down I mean crumple into an exhausted heap on the floor. Not even his Soldat Jet squad can wake him up until he's had a reasonable eight hours of rest.

He bathes once a day, every evening, but only three times a week. Perfume, tobacco, and cologne keep care of the rest.

He's the only Lord with a daily contact with the outside world due to his electrical abilities. Don't tell Miranda, but he can electrically CONNECT TO GOOGLE AND THE ENTIRE INTERNET IN GENERAL. He likes to play funny YouTube cat videos in his head when Miranda's having a boring meeting. It's also how he finds out that Chris is a boulder-punching asshole.

He does stimming! He likes to tap his fingers on his desk and the metal rails in his factory. He also buys stim toys from the Duke and keeps them in a well-kept box. His favourite is a non-ripping squishable toy duck. He also sings to chill out.

He's absolutely in the Five Nights at Freddy's franchise, and may have once believed in the pizzeria's existence. Come on, he's a mutated Overlord with magical magnet powers. Children souls stuck inside animatronics isn't too far-fetched of an idea. His favourite characters are the Funtimes and the Scraps, mainly because of the blueprint complexity. He HAS tried to replicate the animatronics in his spare time, but he's usually too busy with his Soldats so the project gets scrapped. He loves The Living Tombstone's songs and remixes though.

He doesn't like William Afton at all (though he marvels at his survivability). William's nature and habits remind him of Mother Miranda. He DOES however enjoy Michael Afton and often thinks how it would be absolutely amazing to have that resilient being in his Soldat army.

He's scared of what lurks below the watery depths and fire. Ironic because his brother is a literal fish and he works in one of the most hazardous fire-conducting environments. He's also scared of heights, though he doesn't get airsick.

He once died due to a killing electric shock whilst working on Sturm. It's the only time he's felt that sort of pulsing agony and also the first time he's had the confirmation that yes, Hell is real and yes, he'll end up in quite a dark pit in it. Or it could've been an electric dream, who knows? Anyways his soul apparently ran towards the opposite direction of the flames and he woke up alive after the passing of FIVE ENTIRE WEEKS. Oh boy did Alcina get worried when she couldn't find him.

Thank you for the ask! I hope you enjoy!

[taekooktimeline]

May 15 ~ 23, 2020:

BTS film Run episodes 126-127. This was days before the filming of Soop. 

Episode 126 starts with Tae and Hobi revealing the pictures selected to serve as their punishment for losing a previous game. Joon wonders what Tae will showcase and Tae tells them to guess.

On the other hand, with apparent privileges, Jk announces that he’s already seen it and gives the rest a clue.

Jin recalls a memorable incident and asks: “red glasses?” -

Jk confirms -

Jin goes “ahhh, it must be”, clearly having a moment of realization since he also had to guess, unlike Jk.

They start explaining what happened. Everyone was familiar because he accidentally posted the pic on twitter.

(Timestamp 1:18; Link ep 126: http://www.vlive.tv/video/233369)

In episode 127, a lot of the members struggled with rolling the hoop. Tae mentioned earlier that he had done this before, so, after succeeding himself, he stepped in to explain to Jk how to best complete this mission. He asked him if he got the hang of it, saw he did well, and left them on their own to proceed with the decathlon, Joon and Jin still struggling as they threw the hoop flying across the room and “fished” it.

Tae makes sure he’s good to go -

(Timestamp 12:20 ) 

https://twitter.com/taekookfolder/status/1356579250812248064?s=21 

Once Jk completed what they thought was the last mission, he got excited to go home. Jimin then tried to make eye-contact with him to send him an indirect message, or reminder, but he was having a hard time due to Jk stumbling and being in a hurry to exit the small space. Jimin stuttered while saying “let’s go home”, in plural form.

Jk says his goodbyes with confidence -

This prompts Jimin to call out his name and directly tell him to wait for him. He pulls at his ear while doing so - which could be a sign of unease and being worried about Jk’s behavior and the unfolding of events.

(Timestamp 21:07)

Despite the request, Jk is still occupied thinking about how he could’ve “gone home” sooner than Yoongi if he had done it just a tiny bit faster, which tells us that he was excited about beating the rest rather than going home soon. As explained below, he had to wait for Jimin either way.

On the way out, Jin - who owns an apartment in BTS’ dorm complex - catches up to Jk and casually offers to leave the building together, meaning it was a reasonable option and a real possibility under normal circumstances.

He’s met with a lamenting “Aaayy” as Jk cries out in humorous despair. He wished he could say yes and get off already.

Jin then begins to knowingly and animatedly affirm “It’s this!” mixed with “Aaah”s of realization. Jk confirms.

An amused Jk let’s us know that the situation is so obvious and planned out that they were able to read each other’s minds. Jin isn’t part of the suspected plot so he doesn’t necessarily need to be informed of the details in terms of execution and timing, but he certainly has to be aware of the general plan of showcasing that Jimin and Jk live together, separate from the rest (whether that’s strictly true or not).

They talk in code, per se. The wording changes from “it’s this” to “it’s that''. Jin probably meant that “this” situation was part of “that” plan, and used these words interchangeably.

Jk groans, expressing some level of annoyance / sorrow -

Jin continues making a show out of it, acting silly and bringing a smile to Jk’s face. This is reminiscent of the time Tae said “we can’t be friends” in Taekook’s recent vlive and they both laughed. Jin changes the verb tense and says “it was that?” –we suspect referencing Jimin’s request.

(Behind the scenes: https://www.dailymotion.com/video/x7z410v, Timestamp 3:48) 

Jk sticks to the plan and waits.

(Timestamp 26:25)

When Tae and Jimin compete to decide who’ll go home sooner, Jk implies he’s rooting for Jimin because they are heading to the same place, unlike Tae. At least that’s what they want everyone to clearly understand. The point is that, regardless of what their actual living situation is like, even if it hypothetically were to be true - this was the start of their multiple efforts to highlight that Jikook were each other's only flatmates. The authors must remind the readers we do not know the exact living situation of the members and are open to any and all scenarios. Jikook are very close friends and could live together, taking into account Taekook’s restrictions. However, based on some events mentioned further down this paragraph, we speculate this run moment is highly showcased and planned with the intention of furthering the closeting strategy with taekook, as many would think it’s incompatible with them being a couple. After all, Jk could’ve shared a car with Jin. Keep in mind this was the month the strongest closeting strategies were put into effect (tk’s “awkward” vlive, jikook’s living situation, Soop’s “reconnecting” talk...). Additionally, BTS’ first contract was about to be replaced by the new one and, apart from that, dispatch started to act hostile towards the group, although it didn’t last long. BH could have been trying to cut ties with the dreaded magazine responsible for exposing celebrities, but it didn’t go well and kept relations ongoing later in the year. These strategies must’ve still been helpful though. 

Jk awkwardly exaggerates his body movements while saying the next sentence:

Tae loses. Captions -

(Timestamp 30:40)

Tae is last in the group and has to spell out BTS in dominoes before going home. Jk checks up on Tae while Jimin changes his outfit.

Without being asked, he gives him tips and describes how he should do it.

Tae suddenly asks him to do it for him.

Jk complies without protest.

Jk and Jimin end up staying to help. Tae even takes advantage and quickly changes clothes while the other two work on the dominoes. 

(Timestamp 33:56)

Once back, Tae joined them on the task while supporting his weight next to Jk’s inner thigh.

As Tae finishes the task and gives his ending speech to the camera, Jk runs his fingers through his hair, playfully trying to hide a domino in it.

https://twitter.com/kookvtwins/status/1356584631496306689?s=21

Jk then accidentally drops the domino, almost causing the hard work to collapse. Tae pauses in his speech to share a bright, fond smile with Jk. Tae coos something to him, though subtitles don’t pick it up (some say he said “did you?”. Sara hears 괜찮아 = Gwaenchana= “it’s fine”).

Tae then proceeds to run his hand up and down Jk’s inner thigh, going way up his thigh. The movement is a soothing one and could be read as “It was a close call, but it’s fine. Just be careful”.

(Timestamp 34:47)

https://twitter.com/taekookfolder/status/1356581723736141826?s=21 

Close up -

https://twitter.com/purple_taekook/status/1356584535408971780?s=21 

Closer -

Tae starts slapping Jk’s thigh loudly. You can see his arm moving, and the sounds, though you can’t actually see the action.

(Timestamp 35:09) 

Thread for reference - https://twitter.com/tkkfrvr/status/1356588457779372033?s=21 

The maknae line all join hands in solidarity. Tae’s luck was at stake. 

Jimin initiates the gesture in support of Tae, who in turn asks for Jk’s hand. The youngest intertwines it with his, but they change the approach to turn it into a group hand hold, which momentarily confuses Jk and it’s the reason his hand searches for Tae’s -

https://twitter.com/faithfulkv/status/1356679447114579969?s=21 

Group hold -

(Timestamp 36:00)

Sadly, the dominoes didn’t fall all at once, so Tae stayed overtime. Jimin tells him he loves him before leaving with Jk.  This goodbye was given a main focus, making it a successfully completed mission. The narrative was being set.

(Timestamp 36:35; 36:55)

Link episode 127: http://www.vlive.tv/video/234891 

[hopelesshawks]

Physical Fatality Part 13- Icarus

18+ Hawks x fem, pro hero!reader

Summary: You’re a rising star in All Might’s agency. Hawks is the darling of Endeavor’s. By virtue of your job descriptions, the two of you are supposed to hate each other, or at the very least be cautiously neutral. For a long time that’s exactly what the two of you did. You stayed out of each other’s way and formed little opinion of the other. One fateful night at an HPSC gala changes all that. Based on the album Hopeless Fountain Kingdom by Halsey.

If you don’t want to see Physical Fatality content blacklist #hopelesspf

This story will have multiple NSFW parts so it is 18+ ONLY minors dni

Warning for very slight suicidal themes this fic has a happy ending I swear

Masterlist

Agony.

Losing you is agony.

Endeavor is lecturing him for pulling the stunt with Bakugo earlier that day but he can’t hear or really process any of it when all he can think about is the fact you’ve blocked his number and seem to want nothing to do with him. He vaguely registers words of “I told you so” and “I warned you” and even a word or two about a demotion but none of it matters. Hawks doesn’t know how to do anything but be a hero. It’s been the driving force behind a lot of the choices he’s made in your relationship and he knows it’s the same for you, but that doesn’t make any of this easier.

“You’re going to have to work really hard to earn my trust back Hawks and the trust of your coworkers,” Endeavor warns. “Understood,” Hawks replies, his voice almost detached. It seems to disconcert Endeavor, the other man being far more accustomed to the snarky Hawks persona than the serious man in front of him now. “Hawks, uhm, do you,” Endeavor stutters suddenly unsure. He coughs to cover his discomfort and clears his throat before resuming. “Do you need to talk about what happened between you and Artemis?” he finally manages to ask. He looks so deeply uncomfortable potentially talking about the subject and his discomfort only grows when Hawks continues to give him nothing back. “That won’t be necessary,” Hawks replies before turning and walking out of the office. If Hawks doesn’t know how to live without hero work, Keigo doesn’t know how to live without you. So his only option is to abandon Keigo until the pain stops.

He can’t have slept more than a handful of hours that night but he still wakes up early the next morning to run an extra patrol before his normally scheduled one. He files paperwork, even revisits old cases, all in a bid to keep you off his mind. Of course it’s not enough to stop his coworkers from whispering. Typically he ignores the gossip of the lower ranking heroes but it’s hard when he knows they’re speculating about you and him. It certainly doesn’t help that your break up was so public and now it feels like nearly all of Japan has watched the video of it happening. Hawks used to be the darling of Endeavor’s agency, beloved by all of his coworkers. Now he’s practically a pariah.

His new outcast status is only made more obvious at the cocktail party later that day. He’d wanted to skip it entirely, the fact you were supposed to be his plus one to the event made it all the more unappealing, but he’s already skating on thin ice and had no legitimate excuse to justify his absence. So instead he watches the other heroes talk and drink and laugh about things while he hides in the corner, too exhausted and heartbroken to put up the persona necessary to maintain conversation. No one seems to ask about him anyway or even care what he thinks despite the fact it’s his personal life that’s become the hottest topic in all of Japan. He wonders if this is how Icarus felt as he plummeted to the earth. Hawks had flown too close to your light and warmth and now he’s fallen from grace. He wonders if it’s true that Icarus laughed as he fell. If so he can empathize. As painful as this fall is, he would live it over and over if it meant he could catch even a glimpse of you again.

When Shoto comes to join him it’s literally the first genuine interaction he’s had all day. “You look like shit,” Shoto comments by way of greeting. “Thanks. Feel like it too,” Hawks replies. He doesn’t have to pretend with Shoto and for that he’s grateful. “Are you ok?” Shoto asks. “Even though I’ve always hated these things I was always so good at them,” Hawks starts in response. “I’d talk, drink, laugh just like everyone’s doing, be the center of attention, play the part of the charming number two hero. And look at me now. I’m so fucking anxious about what they’ll say about me, about her, about us and what happened that I can’t have a proper fucking conversation. I used to be on fire and now I’m standing in the ashes of who I used to be and I’m just fading away. Without her I’m fading away. I’m just as pathetic as she said,” Keigo confesses and it’s a weight off but it also makes the hollow space behind his ribs where you used to live feel all the more prominent. “This right here is kind of pathetic,” Shoto starts, earning him a shocked almost laugh from the other man, “but you are not pathetic Hawks. I think (y/n) knows that, she’s just hurting. Rightfully so. The bullshit with the others in the agency will get better too.” “I don’t know about that one.” “You’re not the only one who’s done dumb or bad shit. Not by a long shot.” “Really?” “You know Iida?” Shoto asks, pointing to the man in question as he obliviously continues his conversation with one of the others present. “Yea. Your year at UA, stickler for the rules. What about him?” Hawks asks. “He chose his internship our first year with the sole intention of trying to hunt down and kill Stain to avenge his brother.” “Really? That guy?” “Yep. My dad isn’t so innocent either: quirk marriage, child abuse, oh the stories I could tell you.” “Jesus Christ.” “Exactly. Everyone has their own shit Hawks. This will pass and hopefully you and (y/n) can find your ways back to each other when it does.”

Shortly after Todoroki finishes speaking his phone rings and he frowns down in confusion when he notices it’s Bakugo calling him. “I didn’t think we had task force business today,” Shoto says as he answers the phone. “We don’t. Is Hawks there with you?” Bakugo asks, his tone betraying his worry. “Yea he is.” “Shit.” “What’s going on Bakugo?” “It’s about (y/n),” Bakugo admits and Shoto’s eyes widen. He casts a look at Hawks before finally deciding to drag the other man with him to an empty office on the floor they’re currently on. He locks the door behind them and then pops his phone on speaker. “Ok you’re on speaker with me and Hawks what’s going on with (y/n)?” Shoto asks, his voice remaining calm. “All Might fired her last night so she was supposed to come in this morning and collect her stuff except instead she pretty much just threw everything away. I came back to patrol and found out she’d left Midoriya and I little gifts on our desk which was weird, so I hit up her roommates and apparently she never went home after she swung by here. I thought she and Hawks may have run off together but if he’s with you...” Bakugo explains. “Maybe she’s just clearing her head or something,” Shoto suggests. “No way. The whole of Japan is gossiping about her right now, the last thing she’d want is to be out in public,” Bakugo quickly refutes. “Was there anything else off about your desks? Drawers opened?” Hawks asks. “Maybe, I wasn’t paying that much attention. Why?” Bakugo asks. “Your task force notes still there?” Hawks asks in lieu of an answer. Hawks and Shoto wait with baited breath as they hear the sound of Bakugo moving around and then opening a desk drawer. “Nope, they’re gone,” Bakugo finally reports back. “Thought so. (Y/n) wouldn’t just roll over and kiss her career goodbye, she’s probably trying to take out the terrorist cell herself and use it as leverage to get her job back,” Hawks deduces. “Alone? That’s a suicide mission,” Shoto says. “Hence the gifts on the desks,” Hawks replies grimly. “Most of our notes are over there with you guys though,” Bakugo points out. As if on cue an alarm starts blaring overhead warning of an intruder. “That’s gotta be her,” Hawks says. “I’m on my way, hold her there so we can talk some sense into that idiot,” Bakugo tells them before promptly hanging up the phone.

Hawks has to give credit where credit is due. As foolhardy as your plan is, it’s incredibly well executed. As a former member of the guest list, you would’ve known everyone would be occupied with the cocktail party on one of the lower floors, far away from where the files you need are. The elevators will take forever with so many people trying to all get upstairs which only leaves the stairs, which are marginally better but still relatively slow. You must have spent most of the night planning this out. That thought fills Hawks with a certain amount of dread. You’re probably emotional and sleep deprived on your way to take on an entire villain group yourself all in a desperate bid to save your career. It almost sounds ludicrous. Yet, as Hawks races to the top floor in hopes of catching you, all he can think of is something you’d once told him during happier times, late at night as you two were wrapped up in each other:

“Honestly Kei? I’d rather die a hero than live long enough to prove those stupid reporters right about me.”

Author’s Note: Does this still count as a double update if I’m posting the second one after midnight 💀 anyway I can’t believe how quickly I was able to get this chapter out. The image of Hawks standing in the corner of a massive company party feeling like a shell of himself is actually a large part of what sold me on writing this fic for him. The song this chapter correlates to just felt so right for his character that I knew it couldn’t be anyone else. I thought about waiting to post this until later tomorrow today? but I’m ✨impatient✨ so instead y’all get it now

Taglist [open]: @akkaso @cathy8taffy @eeppff @iikillerkitteh @pixelwisp @pokesosa @lildockel @bread0nhead @lavender-moon13

[cankarmawrite]

Undercover AU - Planning

So far, Beau had considered her mission a success.

She’d been laying low in a Milan safe-house after completing a covert information recovery mission. There had been some brief firefight after tripping an alarm she hadn’t noticed before, but Beau made it out of the diplomat’s villa with the information she was tasked with retrieving and her life. That was all she could really ask for at the end of the day, and for now, it was enough.

After downloading the information from the small device- a Jester Lavorre original- she began the tedious process of encrypting the data with her personal cipher. About 45 minutes into her encryption, a small notification flashed in the corner of her screen. Something had set off one of the various motion detectors around the safe-house. Her fingers stilled on the keyboard and pulled up the camera feeds for the property. Something- or someone- moved just at the edges of the back patio camera’s field of view.

Her senses immediately when on high alert, hand reaching for the pistol strapped to the bottom of the desk where she sat. Beau was certain she hadn’t been followed all the way here, and none of her fellow agents were supposed to approach because she’d activated the signal that meant it was in use. This had to be someone else.

Beau completed the familiar process of checking her gun over. The weight of the metal and roughness of the grip comforted her as she crouched and approached one of the windows from the side. Even with the wooden blinds drawn shut, there was still a thin area between each slat where she could peer out at the world safely. 

When she was sure nothing was there, Beau exhaled a slow breath and began to move to the next window, flicking the kitchen lights on as she went to draw attention away from the direction she was moving. She thought about checking the camera feeds again, but was stopped by a slow, patterned knock at the front door. 

It wasn’t a pattern used by the CIA, but somehow it was still familiar to her. As she approached the front door, gun held aloft and steady, Beau clicked the safety off and rolled her shoulders to relax them. She always pulled her shots when her body got too tense in the heat of the moment. 

She must’ve taken long enough to answer the intruder’s knocking because the pattern was repeated again, this time a little more forcefully. Something clicked in her brain the second time she heard the pattern, a distant fuzzy memory from her chaotic Amsterdam mission three years ago. 

“It can’t be…”

The whisper escaped before she could think to hold it back. Her usually steady hands shook as she undid multiple locks on the front door before throwing it open without care or caution. 

Holy fuck, it is her.

“Beau…I finally found you.” 

That’s all Yasha had the energy to say before she collapsed in a bloodied heap on Beau’s doorstep, the various weapons hidden across her body clanking loudly as her body hit the stone tile floor. 

“Yash!” 

Beau immediately rushed to the injured woman’s side, taking a moment to look over the state her former...friend was in. 

Yasha looked like she’d been through hell and back. Dark bruises and various scrapes were covering the pale expanse of skin exposed by the black tank top she wore. Beau noticed wetness pooling at her knee and grunted as she flipped Yasha on her side to see what was producing all this blood. 

There was a deep bullet wound in Yasha’s lower back bleeding steadily, which made her think the other woman had removed the projectile some time ago and hadn’t stopped to patch herself up. The bullet wound wasn’t what caught Beau’s attention though.

With an uneasy feeling rising in her stomach, Beau began bunching Yasha’s shirt up to expose more of her back, and more of what Beau thought she’d seen. 

Scars. Tons of them crisscrossing Yasha’s back in a jagged patchwork of raised pink skin and faded white lines. Most of them were new, which brought tears to her eyes. What had Yasha been through in the years since she’d left Beau alone in a hotel room in Paris with nothing but a hastily scribbled note on her pillow?

Beau shook herself from her memories and rose to fetch the medical kit from the bathroom, her blood-covered hands fumbling with supplies as she grabbed anything she could think of to help save Yasha. 

After a few minutes of cleaning and packing the few deepest wounds, Beau sat back on her heels and looked over her handy work. She’d stitched a few things up the best she could, but her sutures were nowhere near as good as what Caduceus would have done. The neatness of stitches aside, she was fairly sure Yasha would survive the night. 

Beau didn’t sleep that whole night. 

---

That happened days ago. She’d returned to the US with a very nervous Yasha by her side, bringing the woman into the CIA with her where the former Angel of Irons Operative had announced her intentions to defect and requested asylum. The Directors of the CIA had flat out refused to help. They didn't even grant Yasha asylum, simply their assurance that no action would be taken against her by the CIA while she was on American soil. Beau was obviously upset by this and, after verbally berating the Directors, had received a suspension of her field privileges.

Beau took two days of leave to make sure Yasha was safe and being looked after by trusted friends. When she returned, it was like watching a storm cloud tear through the office. She scowled and snapped at friendly faces, disobeyed simple orders, and told off the Directors...again.

Now Dairon was watching Beau in the training room as she sparred with some newer agents, though spar was a generous word in this case. The senior agent could tell Beau was taking her anger at the Directors out on the younger agents she was supposed to be mentoring. They’d decided to step in and allow Beau to work some frustration out, but hadn’t been ready for the fury behind Beau’s strikes. She was sloppier than normal, had let in a few hits that normally would have been easy blocks, things that concerned Dairon immensely.  

“Do you remember the oath you took?”

Beau does, of course, but she doesn’t give Dairon any indication that she’s heard them. After gritting her teeth, Beau's fists fly forwards in a quick series of jabs aimed at some of the trigger points Dairon drilled into her head early on, though the blows are easily deflected by the seasoned fighter.

"You're acting like a love-sick teen." 

She wants to throw a punch at Dairon for that comment, but she doesn’t. Instead, she lifts her chin defiantly and swipes at her nose with a single taped hand. Crimson immediately spreads across the white material wrapped there. Dairon shakes their head and deflects more sloppy hooks and uppercuts.

“You’re being reckless. You’re better than this Beauregard.”

This time Beau crouches and feints a sweep of Dairon’s legs- which her mentor falls for- before launching herself up at Dairon with a quick one-two combo that catches them in their solar plexus and across the jaw. 

Her fist is pulled back to strike again when Dairon dives at Beau’s knees and sends them both tumbling to the mat below. The younger agent squirms underneath, attempting to break Dairon’s pin with a variety of techniques. When learned techniques fail, Beau resorts to just blindly trying to land a hit. One flailing limb strikes Dairon where a bullet recently passed through and they hiss in pain before moving to pin Beau’s fists by her head. 

“Enough Beauregard! Enough...” 

The agent above her was breathing heavily from the exertion of the fight. They still hadn’t been officially cleared by medical staff for training, but Dairon felt a personal responsibility for Beau's well-being and that meant making sure their young friend didn't make any rash decisions. 

Beau finally gives in with a shout of frustration and lets her head fall back against the mat. Her usually bright blue gaze is dark with frustration and heavy with tears that refuse to fall.  

"I have to do something Dai...I can't stay silent knowing what I do about the Angel of Irons."

Darion sighed as they stood, grimacing in pain as they offered a hand to Beau. “Please don’t throw your career...your life away for some trivial-” 

The younger woman ignored Dairon's offered hand and instead executed a kip-up that would have made her mentor proud any other day. Beau was so familiar with the physics of the move and the strength of her own body that it hardly took any conscious thought. Beau was in Dairon's face the moment their feet hit the mat again, blue eyes blazing with a determination the older agent hadn't seen in a while.

“You don’t get to decide what’s trivial to me Dairon. I’m going to do the right thing, even if the agency won’t support me.“

Dairon’s eyes hold an expression of quiet regret and something that might be fear, but Beau doesn’t stay long enough to psychoanalyze. She hears her former mentor call after her once, but Beau doesn't spare a glance back. 

The sound of the metal doors slamming shut behind Beauregard's retreating form echoes in Dairon’s mind for months. 

---

“Beau, are you sure about this? You know we support you one hundred percent, but this could be suicide if we aren’t prepared.”

The woman in question turned to Fjord with a sigh, he was one of the people she’d known longest in this business. A talented former Navy Seal who’d left the service after one of his teammates sold information to the enemy and helped lead an attack on the base where his teammates slept. Fjord’s mentor, Vandren, had been killed during the raid on their compound, and Fjord had nearly lost his own life as well.

“Then we’ll be prepared Fjord, we can’t sit here and do nothing. The CIA flat out refused to help even though Yasha was requesting asylum.” She frowned and took a steadying breath, now was not the time to lose her temper...again. 

“I won’t reveal everything I know about the Angel of Irons, that’s Yasha’s story to tell, but I will tell you that I will still try to do this, even if none of you come.”

The half-orc frowned at that and laid a friendly hand on Beau’s tense shoulder, “You are not going alone, Beau. I believe you...I just don’t want this to be a repeat of Am-”

“Yeah yeah yeah, Amsterdam. That wasn’t totally my fault-”

“The car in the canal Beau.”

“Hey! There was no one in the other car and I paid for the damages myself.” She huffed, brushing Fjord’s hand off her shoulder as she moved back towards the center of the room where planning was already in progress. 

Another set of hands settled on Beau’s shoulders as she took a seat in a folding chair by the blueprints that were already covered in scribble and symbols from various people. This time they were blue and smelled faintly of burnt wiring and gunpowder. 

“Beauuu...Fjord is just being a party-pooper. I already have some super cool things in the workshop, aaaand Veth and I still haven’t found a system in the world that can keep us out so this will be easy-peasy.” Jester chattered happily away in Beau’s ear as she used those magical thumbs to massage all of the tension from her shoulders. 

After a few minutes of listening to Jester talk about the latest system updates she installed to help this operation run more smoothly, how her mother was doing, and what kinds of cereal she'd bought to stock the safehouse, Beau patted one of Jester's hands twice to signal that she was okay now.

"Thanks, Jessie."

"Oh! Caddy said that Yasha was patched up all nicely before he left. She's been sleeping for a while so you should go check on her." This statement was accompanied by a very heavy-handed wink from Jester, which of course drew an exaggerated eye-roll from Beau.

"I'm going, I'm going." 

Jester's devious snickers followed Beau as she headed upstairs to check on Yasha, wholly unaware of the small post-it note on her back that said, "Kiss me."

[bexterbex]

A Soul to Mend His Own | Ch. 64

Warning, PLEASE CHECK TAGS IF YOU SEE SOMETHING YOU DON’T WANT TO READ THEN DON’T READ. | Tag lists are closed | INBOX OPEN

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Will tag as I go along, Will update tags, Slow Burn, Influenced by Star Trek and other Sci-Fi themes, References to We Happy Few, Tons of References and quotes to George Orwells 1984 see if you can find them all, The First Order is the new Big Brother,  but who is really surprised, Blatant Nazi Symbolism, Interrogation Themes, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Really just drawn out Slow Burn, Don’t repost without permission, Torture themes, Suggestive Themes, Execution themes, Disturbing Themes, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Verbal Abuse, Controlling Kylo Ren, Physical Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, Possessive Kylo Ren, A character shamelessly based on Zelda

A Kylo Ren x Modern! Reader in a soulmate au with canon divergence. —————————————SLOWBURN————————————–

He is already the Supreme leader, searching the universe to find you, his Empress. Your name on his wrist has been the only constant in his life, while you have doubts about his existence and his acceptance of you. He isn’t in the database and why did the name Kylo Ren cover Ben Solo?

MASTERLIST

Chapter 64: Empty

You felt the weight of his presence in your mind leave you, slowly dissipating like smoke in a room. “I shall leave for now, but if the pills don’t work, and she is too weak to guard herself it will leave me no choice but to protect her.” His hand came to your crown, almost as if he was trying to physically caress your mind with his own hand.

Your head felt rather empty without him there. The rational part of your brain, the one that always had its own personality, the fire that kept you going, was now reduced down to not much more than a lamp flame. Your wildfire was almost completely snuffed. Your spark was almost gone.

“How do you feel, m’lady,” asked Dr. Dabrini. Kylo remained silent. He removed his hand from you.

You lifted your head, trying to avoid meeting Kylo’s direct piercing gaze, your sight still blurry from your tears. You tried to focus on the doctor, trying to meet his analyzing but gentle gaze. “I don’t know. Better I guess, but I don’t feel the same as before,” your lips trembled as you spoke, afraid to know the truth of what was happening to your mind. You felt the hollowness of your own mind and the heaviness of your heart.  

The doctor came to kneel next to you; you knew that he would be able to see into your mind as Kylo could. He could ask questions, but that was only so good. He couldn’t feel what you were feeling. “What do you feel, m’lady? Can you describe it?” His voice quieter than before, like he wasn’t wanting to scare you off.

“I feel… empty, like what was there before isn’t now. It isn’t completely gone, but it is mostly gone. My heart is heavy and my head is light, but not in a good way? I don’t know how else to describe it.” Because in truth, you couldn’t—not really. How would you explain that a part of yourself was now gone?

You felt the bed shift as Kylo stood up, his back to the both of you.

The doctor glanced at him before he spoke to you again, “I cannot guarantee that the missing pieces of you will ever return m’lady. I do know that you should spend some time reflecting on what is still there, the memories, emotions, thoughts, and figure out how to move on with them. I know that it might not be ideal and that it may scare you, but there is nothing that I can do to bring them back. What I can do is give you dreamless sleep tonight.” You could hear the sincerity in the doctor’s voice. You could tell that he wasn’t happy, that he couldn’t do more for you. His face was full of grief and sympathy.

You nodded and looked at Kylo, whose back was still turned to you, with clenched fists. You wondered what he was thinking. How he felt about taking so much from you? How did he feel knowing he hurt you again? He broke his promise, but with good intentions. He was trying to protect you after all, wasn’t he?

The doctor glanced between you two before standing, “You know all that I can offer you. Tonight I will have a sleeping pill delivered, and tomorrow we can discuss its effectiveness. But for now, this is all that I can offer, and I shall leave you two alone to discuss our findings.” Dr. Dabrini then stepped out of the room.

Kylo had yet to move a muscle, his hard rigid back creating a wall between you. You didn’t know if it was protecting you or if it was keeping you out.

Your voice was small and broken, “Kylo?”

He turned to you, “He’s right. I must speed up my plans, our plans.” He then glanced down the hall, to where you did not know. “I will do what I must to protect you. They will be eliminated and soon. I do not want to take over you, but I will if it means keeping you by my side. Do you understand?” His voice became hard, his cauldron eyes ablaze with cascading emotions. Currents of dark painful water that you knew you could not swim against.

You did not want to lose yourself, but neither did he. Leia did not want to hurt you, she just wanted him home, Ben home not Kylo. But Rey, Rey would harm you to get Ben to come home, to leave you so he could be with her. Ben not Kylo. Ben the weaker half. “Yes.” You looked up to his face, and attempted to get up to meet him,

He moved to meet you on the bed. He drew you into his arms. “I will be fully yours then. Won’t I?” You searched his face for an answer.

“Yes, if I complete my task, you will be mine alone. Ben Solo will no longer exist. But you will be stuck with a broken monster.” His hand came up to move your hair behind your ear. You were a mess after this whole ordeal but there were more important things to worry about.

“So if you do this there will be no more you or him?” You didn’t know if that scared you or thrilled you. You thought all the gentle moments you two shared may not have been him, but you couldn’t be sure.

He brought your wrist up to his lips, and kissed his name gently, for the first time in weeks. “Yes, if that is what you want.”

Your heart pounded at the gentleness of it all. You were two equally broken people clinging to each other, to mend yourselves whole. Two souls that were chosen from the galaxy to intertwine. Where one couldn’t survive without the other?

“I don’t want to be hurt by this tug-of-war anymore. I want you Kylo, just you. Ben Solo betrayed me, by not protecting me, by leaving me defenseless to attacks, but you have tried to protect me. You only harm me when you fight him, so the fight needs to end.” It was partially true, he was a monster, but he was fighting against himself and his slashes were hitting you in the process. You needed to figure out who the monster was, so you could fix him. Train him to be your hound. Once you were Empress. A monster only you could understand, a monster that you were created to love.

“Then I will have to leave you, to kill him. To kill them. You are MINE,” the monster growled. “I will not let them have you, I will not let him win.” His lips crashed harshly against yours, biting your lip as they did. Teeth scraping and rough, this was him, this was Kylo. “And when I win, you shall be Empress,” he snarled into the kiss. A rough lover, one with intense passion, that ignited heat within you.

His sharp teeth nipped, and he sucked down your neck, marking you as his and his alone. His nose guided his lips back up to your ear, “As much as I would like to play with you Kitten, we have a meeting to get to, one that will help us accomplish our goal,” he gave you one last harsh nips to your lips as you broke apart. His arms sliding under you as he stood, carrying you to your dressing room where Adlez and Olivia-Rose were waiting to fix you.

“You have ten minutes to make her presentable,” he then set you down in front of your vanity. A harsh bruising possessive kiss to your lips before he left you into their care.

You glanced at your reflection in the mirror. You looked like and felt like hell. Your appearance made it seem as if you just got out of an active war zone, out of a fight for your life. Adlez and Olivia-Rose buzzed around you with such a speed you hadn’t witnessed before. Adlez carefully but quickly put your hair back into place and started assisting Olivia-Rose in covering the dark circles under your eyes, and the fresh love bites along your neck. You were then pulled to the armoire where your dress was practically ripped off you and then promptly replaced. Almost as soon as you were placed for inspection in front of the full-length mirror, there was a loud knock on the door. Time was up.

If you hadn’t started to move you were sure that Adlez would have ripped the door out from its pocket in the wall and screamed at Kylo. But you made it to the door before she did. Your body moving on a sort of autopilot. Once the door opened an arm pulled you out into the hall and started walking you out of your chambers. He was moving with a purpose and taking you with him.

You walked down the halls until you reached the familiar conference room from the day before. Kylo sat you down in your seat as he stalked to the head of the table. You could see that it wasn’t just a few members of the High Command present like Hux had said before, it was everyone. Well, some were holocommuting in, but still all members were present in some form.

Everyone seemed to be on edge. Kylo’s mood resonating to each individual person. Hux was the first to speak, “You called for this meeting Supreme Leader? Have things changed?” You could hear the uneasiness in his usually confident voice. His eyes reflected that same fear as he gazed upon the black monster in front of him.

“Yes, the plans have changed. Things have changed. The need to kill the scavenger and General Organa has become more important, more immediate. It needs my full attention. I shall leave sometime tomorrow to complete the task.” His voice through his mask is more menacing than ever.

“But we do not know where they are,” said Pryde. Apparently that was the wrong thing to say as Kylo shadowed towards him. His dark threatening black form seemed impossibly large.

He brought his face to be level with Pryde’s holo one. “Do you doubt my abilities, General Pryde?” You could hear the taunt, like a hyena’s laugh, only more deadly.

You watched the general swallow, to what you could only assume to be a dry mouth. His lips trembled in fear as his hologram eyes met the chrome of Kylo’s mask. “No, Supreme Leader, I do not.”

Kylo’s mask was less than an inch from the projection before he said, “Good.” He then stood back up to his full ominous form as he tracked back to the head of the table, “we wouldn’t want tradition to doubt authority and the ability of the Force.” You could hear the direct jab at Pryde’s pride. “After all, I am my grandfather’s heir apparent. Am I not,” his head whipped around to meet Pryde’s gaze.

“Yes, Supreme Leader, you are. You shall exceed Lord Vader’s legacy,” you could practically smell the fear through the hologram. You could certainly see the sweat forming on his brow, anyway.

Kylo lifted his head in a mock approval before he haunted around your side of the table before stopping next to you, “Once I return, Lady Ren will assume the position of Empress. And you will all be prepared for this. All preparations will need to be prepared. As neither of us will wait.” His hand rested on your shoulder.

“Preparations will begin immediately,” responded Hux.

“Would you like for the ceremony to take place back on Earth? Or shall it be somewhere else,” asked General Parnadee.

“Where would you like the ceremony to be held,” asked Kylo. He was speaking to you and you alone. The rest of the room waiting on your answer.

“How about somewhere new, somewhere important to you maybe? There is no use going back to my planet, is there?”

“As you wish,” responded Kylo.

“There is your grandfather’s castle on Mustafar m’lord,” said Hux.

“Yes, send preparations there. We are finished here.” With that, he guided you back up, escorting you back down the halls to your chambers. To be alone with him once again. To see the monster behind the mask, to learn about him. To love him, to mend him.

[pangtasias-atelier]

Ferdinand left the Empire after what happened to his family and when he found out about Hubert's off-the-book executions and assassinations. Even still, Dimitri doesn't trust him, so he keeps a close eye on him. But instead, he notices Ferd gradually getting fatter. One day, he sees Ferd pop a button after eating and it's just too much. Dimitri decides to bring Ferd to his room, forcefeed him until he's ready to burst, then claim that plump Empire butt all for himself (NSFW Drabble)

Sooo, I had a lot of fun with this one ajdnshsms. It may have been just being able to write some simple chub stuff or also just finally getting to write on my laptop but here ya go!

I'm really proud of how this one came out so I hope you enjoy it!!

And the cheesecake portion was a bit based on how I felt eating half a cheesecake sjdkskns

All smut will be tagged #risque

_________________

Strands of golden hair mar Dimitri’s face as his reflection stares back at him. His soft light blue irises of his reflection peer away from Dimitri, the edge of his eyes crinkling as he splashes some more cold water on his face. Nearly deigning the thought of waterboarding himself, the thought tumbles out of his disoriented brain as another crazed and ridiculous scene takes hold of his imagination.

Long rich orange lock cascading down, the seamlessly flawless hair swishes behind its owner as they delicately step forward. Cape forgone, the once well-tailored coat now seems far too tight. The hint of a curvaceous ass bounces under the tight oppression of the mid-knee length coat, each movement and ripple only tempting Dimitri. A dark blue belt embroidered with gold, the obvious intent upon the outfit’s inception had been to elongate and slim its wearer. Now, it only does the opposite, their bulging midsection forced into two, the soft warm pudge from his upper abdomen and lower abdomen squishing to conceal most of the belt altogether. The puff of his enlarged chest makes the opening of his coat seem larger, bulging out further to give it depth. His red cravat rests on top of his chest, as if puffing his chest out. The outline of his adipose filled body rests under it, his arms making the sleeves bulge as well. New folds and wrinkles on his clothes where there once was none, the extra weight the clear culprit, its owner seems unbothered, no upsize or let out seams done to it. Armor unneeded, their blue pants constrict and hold back his squished, compressed legs, overhanging folds of flab visible. The figure turns to Dimitri, Ferdinand smiling and waving at him. Their filled out face only adds to their idiotic charm, their bright eyes and smile illuminating the cold darkness further. A sea of blue washes them away quickly enough.

Grunting, Dimitri’s soaking face heaves. Gripping the edge of the sink, his knuckles turn white, the delicate porcelain emitting a dangerous sharp crack before he lets go. Coughing, Dimitri yanks the nearest towel. Roughly blotting his drenched face, the low sting of the fabric scratching at his face is unnoticeable, the rise and fall of his chest more important. Rising to his full height, Dimitri shifts his efforts on drying his hair. Thin strands eventually fall back into place as they dry, Dimitri tossing the towel away. Taking a deep breath, he exhales, his broad shoulders sagging.

His stomach grumbling, Dimitri heads to the dining room. No sense of taste or smell really left, grabbing something to munch on then leave, sounds ideal.

Finding Ferdinand seated, the idea suddenly feels far less than ideal. The notion of slinking away unnoticed poofs away as Ferdinand spots.

“Ah, Prince Dimitri. A pleasure to see you!” Ferdinand jovially calls from his seat before rising.

Dimitri hopes imagining the cool splash of water helps calm down the heat rushing to his face, Ferdinand’s plump figure just as ripe as his vivid imaginations. In fact, the realization of his own thoughts underselling Ferdinand's figure only makes the rising heat worse.

“Prince Dimitri, are you perhaps unwell?” A delicate yet chubby hand rests against Dimitri’s forehead.

“I’m not your prince, you needn’t worry about me,” Dimitri gently extricates Ferdinand’s hand from his forehead.

“Nonsense, I swore my absolute fealty to one deserving of it,” Ferdinand doesn’t catch the hint, wrapping his arm around Dimitri. “While I must admit, my father may have tarnished our name, I, Ferdinand Von Aegir swear that the name till holds some decency to it,” Pressing an open palm to his soft moobs, Ferdinand bows, his long flowing hair suffering the effects of gravity, the same as his stomach.

To most others, Ferdinand’s words of bravado would sound none other than those of a pathetic socialite wishing to worm their way into whichever upper echelon of society. But to everyone else, Ferdinand’s manner of bearing his entire heart on his sleeve is his charm, the overly enthusiastic noble meaning well.

Originally a part of the Black Eagles house, Ferdinand had quickly become a fixture of the Blue Lions after a few months of Byleth’s cajoling. Upon Edelgard’s declaration of war, he had left for Adestria upon Byleth’s disappearance only to quickly come back upon hearing news of their return. The reunion with his former classmates had been moderately well received, Mercedes and Ashe no strangers to kindness, until Dimitri’s sighting of Ferdinand had nearly left the former Adrestian noble with a spear in his abdomen. With Byleth’s insistence, Dimitri had tsked but ultimately skulked away, his dreadful lumbering footsteps etching their way into everyone’s mind.

Dimitri still partially not all quite there, he had thankfully resigned ignoring Ferdinand just the same as everyone else, a tense uneasy partnership occurring between Dimitri and everyone else. It hadn’t been until much later that Dimitri snapped out of it, slowly easing himself back into the human emotions that he had casted away. And upon gaining focus on his fellow members, Dimitri’s eyes found that removing focus from Ferdinand was proving to be rather challenging.

And while a part of it had to do with his infectious cheerful nature, the other part of his clearly had to do with Ferdinand’s body. Lithe muscle nowhere to be found, the initial realization of enjoying the view of Ferdinand’s heft had led to some confusion before that strayed to wondering how it must feel, so warm and soft.

Which made it increasingly harder for Dimitri to speak to Ferdinand.

“Thank you,” Dimitri clears his suddenly parched throat. “Ferdinand,” Even speaking his name brings a trickle of warmth in his chest, the thought of whispering it to him, the two huddled together, clothes strewn about as-

“Of course. Well, I’m sure you must be famished after our sparring session earlier, you nearly rushed out after we finished,” Hand encapsulating Dimitri’s Ferdinand leads him back to his table, half his plate left uneaten.

The servers immediately bringing, a plate to Dimitri, the serving of chicken with vegetables is barely a spoonful more than Ferdinand’s remnants. Only a couple of bites into the meal, Dimitri’s fork hangs still, midway to his mouth, upon the sound of a dull ping hitting the floor. Reflexively looking around, Dimitri spots the culprit. Careful to not keep his mouth agape, a button on Ferdinand’s coat had popped off, his vest showing.

Ferdinand’s eyes wide, his hands scramble to cover the mishap.

Unable to process anything else, Dimitri stands up and grabs Ferdinand’s hand. Leading him away, Ferdinand’s puffs of complaints and questions draw some attention from the few people littered around the monastery at this semi-late hour. Upon reaching his room, the two step in, Ferdinand highly confused as he stutters out half-baked apologies, too focused on trying to hide the noticeable gap in his coat from his popped button.

Dimitri absorbing the situation, he balks at himself for being so rash. To drag Ferdinand to his room, all for what? For the unlikely chance of something more. And the far more likely chance of making things impossibly awkward between the two. Yet glancing back at the other man, Dimitri finds his worries washing away, Ferdinand staring at him with a sudden shyness.

“I…” Dimitri clamps his mouth, the trapdoor of awkwardness closing and opening. “I think you’re handsome,” His eye shut tight, the ensuing silence drives him mad, the silence unable to be stabbed like most other things.

“You truly believe so?” Ferdinand’s eyes already misting at the edge, his amber eyes remain in tentative shock. He reaches a shaky hand downward. “Despite all this?” Grabbing his stomach, the pile of supple fat only seems larger so up close.

“Because of all this,” Gently laying a hand on Ferdinand’s love handle, Dimtri brings him closer. One arm wrapped around him, the tight embrace allows him to feel nearly every inch of Ferdinand, everything so soft. Leaning down, Dimitri holds up Ferdinand’s chin, his thumb gently rubbing the edge of his lips. With bated breath, his lips crash into Ferdinand’s. The excessive force makes him stumble, Dimitri’s rough hand on his lower back keeping him steady. Huffing, Dimitri pulls back. His face a red shade, the tint is nothing but a red ant to the sun in comparison to Ferdinand’s blazing face.

“I have something I need to prepare. Don’t leave,” Turning around, Dimitri stumbles back at the awkward exit. Professing his love only to leave. Turning back around, he grabs Ferdinand’s hand with his own once more. “Please,” Gently squeezing it, Ferdinand nods, his face not losing a single tint to his radiant red hue.

Slowly making his way back into the hall, the instant Dimitri feels he’s out of ears reach, he rushes. Taking long strides, he scares the poor merchants in the marketplace with his sudden appearance. Knowing the time, the leftover selection from the bakery’s goods for the day are surprisingly still abundant. Nearly reaching for enough money to buy the entire selection, he calms his overactive brain. Setting on a somewhat more reasonable selection, he instead purchases an entire cheesecake.

The cake in hand, it takes all his nerves of dropping the cake to not rush back. Not even having been gone for what can possibly be more than a few minutes, the fear of Ferdinand leaving keeps his pace quick, Dimitri finding himself back in front of his door in no time.

The door nearly slamming open, Ferdinand jumps up. His stomach sloshing about, he gingerly places a hand on it. His eyes avert themselves from the cake in Dimitri’s hands, Ferdinand’s face flushed.

Wordlessly, Dimitri cuts a slice, the huge chunk a quarter of the entire cake. Ferdinand ready to accept, an insistent hand from Dimitri stops him. Grabbing a bit with a fork, Dimitri expectantly brings it to Ferdinand’s mouth, his good eye agape.

“Oh,” Letting out a chuckle, Ferdinand takes a gulp before taking a bite of the cake. His face alighting from the taste, Ferdinand happily accepts the second bite. And then the third. And then each ensuing bite until the slice is finished. Enough leverage allowed from one button already destroyed, the rest remain snugly but securely on his bulging stomach. Dimitri immediately cuts another slice. Ferdinand’s eyes widen, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead. “I didn’t know you were into…” Ferdinand pauses, considering his words. “Such things,”

Dimitri nearly nods, bringing another bite to Ferdinand.

“If you insist,” Shakily taking another bite, the sweet cool creamy texture of the cake lulls him back to his enjoyment of the delicacy. Unfastening his belt, Ferdinand lets out a sigh before he sits upright, Dimitri’s free hand rubbing it. Another bite offered, Ferdinand keeps at, only slowing down near the end of the slice, both his hands on his own engorged stomach along with Dimitris. “Dimitri,” Ferdinand groans, huffing as he lies down. “I can’t anymore,” Pawing at his own belly, the mass of fat and food rises into the air with each strained breath.

A hand caressing his cheek, Ferdinand lets out an ‘oof’ as Dimitri helps him sit. His gut resting on his plump thighs, Ferdinand merely groans. A hand on his coat, he yelps as Dimitri tears it, the buttons flying across the room. A hand on his waistline, his suddenly unbuttoned pants give him some breathing room. His vest grabbed, Ferdinand obligingly lifts up his arms, the sense of freedom for his aching gut relieving. His undershirt goes next, both tossed into a heap on the floor. A hand tugging at his pants, Ferdinand pauses, resting his hand on top of Dimitri’s. Dimitri’s calm face staring at his, Ferdinand lets him continue, Ferdinand left in nothing but the tight fabric of his boxers.

Resting his back against the wall. Ferdinand continues to groan. Some more shuffling fabric, he keeps his eyes closed until more cake is pressed against his lips. He does, however, ignore the noticeable erection in Dimitri’s pants, Ferdinand somehow redder than before.

Dimitri shirtless, he holds the last half of the cheesecake.Ferdinand huffs. “You love cheesecake,” Dimitri whispers.

“Sometimes there are limits,” Dimitri’s hands not moving, Ferdinand scoffs. “You beast,” But that doesn’t stop Ferdinand smiling as he accepts the heaping bite of cake.

Wishing to get on it, patience not one of Dimitri’s stongsuits, he spears the cake with his fork, heaping portions offered each time Ferdinand almost finishes one bite. His chewing slows down, his swallowing slows down, the smack of his squirrel cheeks slow down, Ferdinand reaching dangerous levels of full.

Bits of cream on his lips, remnants from his dozes of prior bits still remain in his mouth, willing himself to eat more. Swallowing, the bits feel like lead slowly dropping down only to punch his gut on the way there. “Dimitri. I don’t think I can,” Groaning, he smears the frosting with his arm, the pale flesh on his arm jiggling. “Truly,”

“You can,” Dimitri rubs slow circles on Ferdinand’s gut. “Just a few more bites, I know you can do it,” Bringing the second to last bite, Dimitri forcefully shoves it in, Ferdinand struggling to chew it. His heavy breathing coming from his nose now, before he can swallow the last bits, Dimitri shoves the last heaping forkful in his mouth, Ferdinand painfully smacking his tired lips in an attempt to finish it all.

Wasting no time, Dimitri helps Ferdinad rest his back against his bed. Ferdinand’s labored chewing and groans egging him, he quickly disrobes, his slim yet built body glistening in anticipation. Gripping Ferdinand’s boxers, he tugs them off to reveal his own chubbed up dick, the thick shaft of it slowly engorging. Climbing onto the bed, Dimitri rests his knees right in front of Ferdinand’s dick.

Ferdinand finally finishes the cake, his mouth so dry and tired. “I…. ugghhh,” Clinging the bedsheets, his hands go to his bulging midsection as Dimitri lifts up his legs. His moobs squishing into his double chin, his overtaxed stomach rests heavily as the overfilled lump falls down.

Dimitri placing his arms under Ferdinand’s legs, he slowly aligns himself. His dick slick with precum, he slowly enters. Dimitri groans as the warmth of Ferdinand’s hole envelops his dick. Ferdinand right underneath him, his breath turns labored as Ferdinand squirms, rubbing his stomach.

“I’ll take care of that in a bit,” Leaning forward, Dimitri kisses Ferdinand, a trail of saliva sticking as they part. Ferdinand grimaces as his legs bend a bit more than they’re used to at this weight, nodding his head instead.

Unable to wait much longer, Dimitri thrusts into Ferdinand, Ferdinand’s hands now reaching for Dimitri’s back. Ferdinand’s noises sounding under him, the always chipper, bright man simply huffs under Dimitri, biting his lips as he tries to hold back his moans.

Wishing to get closer, Dimitri wraps his arms under Ferdinand, embracing him as he humps him. Digging his head into the crevice of Ferdinand’s neck, Dimitri huffs.

“D-dimitri,” Ferdinand gutturally moans, right into his ear. Cum sticking against his warm body, Dimitri nearly chuckles as Ferdinand cums so early. His body reprimanding him, his knees buckle as he feels himself so dangerously close, his throbbing dick begging for a release. Giving in, Dimitri crushes Ferdinand in his embrace, his soft supple body digging into his muscles.

"Tired,” Dimitri's arms shake. Huffing, he ignores his own seed slowly spilling out of Ferdinand's ass, as he pulls out. Ferdinand exhausted, his belly rises with each tired labored breath he takes. No important task required of him tomorrow, Dimitri reserves the task of cleaning themselves up tomorrow with a warm shared shower. Crawling beside Ferdinand, Ferdinand leans back into Dimitri as his body is cradled in Dimitri's built arms. Spooning Ferdinand, he breathes in his scent, his dreams knowing peace as he dreams of fattening Ferdinand further.

[alteredphoenix]

In Defense of Calia: On the Topic of Misogyny and the Criticism of the Forsaken Double Standard

So I like to browse Twitter a lot, mainly for the art but mostly just to kill time. But I also follow people and websites, and one of those happens to be Wowhead. A couple days ago there was an article documenting Calia’s appearance within the Horde Council in the Shadowlands pre-patch, to which she would voice her opinion on the state of the Horde as well as the uncertain future that Azeroth now faces with the breaking of the Helm of Domination and return of the Scourge.

The WoW community can be...very passionate, or inflammatory, depending on your point of view. The same can be said for any big fandom, in all honesty. But I’m not in a lot of fandoms, and, at least where WoW is concerned, there’s a kind of laser-guided hyperfixation in regards to the introduction and development of its characters. Old or new, the fandom watches them like a hawk, but perhaps none more vigilantly than ones that have been mentioned in-game but have not made an actual appearance itself beyond the tie-in novels.

Three of these characters are Turalyon, Alleria, and Calia. However, Turalyon and Alleria are not given this much scrutiny outside of snide quips that “Turalyon is flat and boring/he’s a zealot/he’s the embodiment of the white savior among the draenei” and “Alleria is a fucking psycho for using the Void and wanting the blood elves to return to the Alliance, she’s just like her sisters, it must run in the blood/she’s arm candy to another, rugged Alliance man” whenever the plot calls for their convenience. I would daresay these parts of the fandom would go as far to say that with their developments given within the story, it would be in Blizzard’s best interests to have never brought them so as to “preserve their memory from before the Activision merger”. On the other hand, I would like to note that this sentiment is echoed ad nauseam for practically every character in WoW...but we’ll touch on that a little bit. This piece isn’t about Turalyon and Alleria or the others.

Rather, this is about Calia, and I wanted to give voice to my opinions on the backlash - or perhaps reception would be a better word - she has been receiving. She was a character I came across reading Arthas: Rise of the Lich King and didn’t think much of afterwards; for all I knew, she had died when Lordaeron and that was the end of the Menethil bloodline. However, with her debut in Legion and unique circumstances that followed culminating from the ending of Before the Storm, as well as being tangentially tied with the Light/Void conflict that’ll come to the forefront in the future, I wanted to keep an eye on her character arc.

Needless to say, when I read the Wowhead post, the comments could basically be described like this:

The WoW Community: Gawd, Blizzard is pushing Calia so hard into the narrative.  She’s just another pathetic dev’s self-insert like Nathanos is, even though we only base this off some harmless, tongue-in-cheek posts on Twitter and we need to vent our anger toward another character who clearly has too much development! She’s everywhere!

Be me, off to the side, remembering she was only present in the Priest Class Hall campaign in Legion; takes part in Before the Storm before getting axed in the Arathi Gathering and being subsequently raised into Lightly undeath by a king, her Archbishop, and a naaru that may have influenced her into going to the Gathering; only shows up very late in BfA right after Sylvanas Blasts Off Again at the end of the War Campaign to reconnect with the Proudmoores and help the kaldorei undead as well as the Forsaken Sylvanas ditches; shadows Lilian and the Horde Council in Shadows Rising, and shows up in Icecrown when the sky cracks open and Bolvar is no longer the Lich King that took up the role her brother was in.

I don’t know what popular fanfiction you folks are reading (or whatever tea you’re drinking; I’ve been looking around since the last Calia post I made and I can’t find it!), but that is not what I would call everywhere.

Look, you’re more than welcome to despise Calia as much as Nathanos over baseless claims and double standards, but let’s not pretend there are other Forsaken that’d fill the hole Sylvanas left behind. Because they can’t. They won’t be able to, because for years Sylvanas made up the core of Forsaken identity. Prior to WotLK they were a race that was reviled and ostracized by the world and looked upon with distrust by everyone including the Horde, even as Hamuul vouched for them and convinced Thrall to give them a chance despite knowing full well how cruel and selfish they could be. Their sole purpose was to exact revenge on the man who took everything away from them, destroyed their lives, and raised them into his service against their will.

And even when Arthas was defeated, they had no other purpose but to conquer Lordaeron, find a way to reproduce their numbers, and reaffirm their loyalty to the Horde - because where the hell else are they going to go? Because even if some Forsaken disagree with Sylvanas’s strict institutions regarding the acceptance of their undeath and the complete rejection of their former, mortal lives, not everyone in the Alliance is going to welcome them with open arms; not everyone is an Anduin or a Jaina. You see this with Genn, who despite accepting that not every Forsaken is bad still holds them in contempt, and with Alleria, who, after spending a thousand years in the Twisting Nether fighting the Burning Legion and thus being removed from the changes that occurred on Azeroth, is justifiably concerned that they are no longer the same person in undeath as they were in life. You see this in the way that some families spurn their loved ones when the Gathering takes place.

So while it’s true that you can say Calia doesn’t have what it takes to be the person the Forsaken need in a post-Sylvanas Azeroth, you must also remember that of all the named Forsaken we know of only Lilian has been given due development. You can’t say the same for Belmont (a loyalist who disregarded Cromush’s warnings about using the plague in Silverpine, as well as fought a losing battle against Tyrande in Darkshore in BfA), Helcular (a presumably former Cult of the Damned affiliate who notably defended Tarren Mill during the Legion’s third incursion), Faranell (another loyalist who created the New Plague and believes Putress is behind Wrathgate, but perhaps unaware of Sylvanas’s possible involvement), and Velonara (who did not want to be want to raised but followed Sylvanas anyway until the Fourth War, eventually siding with the Horde Council). They are merely foot soldiers; outside of maybe Velonara they don’t have the luxury of experiencing the emotional turmoil a newly risen undead goes through the way Lilian Voss does when Thomas Zelling, dying from illness, makes a deal to be raised into undeath and help the Horde in their war if it meant protecting his family. They don’t have the luxury of watching him get executed by the Warchief’s right hand man in front of their eyes the way Lilian and every other Horde leader present did. You would not get the same weight by switching her out with any of them. You could say Lilian would make a decent successor to Sylvanas, and I would not disagree with you. However, Lilian does not have the familial connection that Calia does to Lordaeron, and while Gey’arah poses the question of leadership to her at the Horde War Campaign’s epilogue, it should be noted that Lilian believes there is “another more suited to the task”, preferring to be the hand that would comfort the Forsaken of the trauma of being raised into undeath and, as of Shadows Rising, act as their interim leader.

Then again, neither does Calia. We don’t know where she and Faol were after Lordaeron’s fall (which is one key detail I have seen people not take into account upon their criticisms of her character), but we do know that upon being asked she had refused to reassert her claim to Lordaeron. However, she has common sense enough to know that Faol was not like the other Scourge in the beginning, and later when she met with Elsie, Parqual Fintallas, and the Felstone family.

Whatever happened during that time period prior to Legion, she identifies with the Forsaken. They are, in a way, still her people, regardless of that. This is why I think she would suit the Forsaken best as their leader, not as Queen of Lordaeron that the fandom - or rather, most of the Sylvanas stans - has been so prone to parroting since her intentions to help guide the kaldorei undead and the Lordaeronian Forsaken were first revealed.

And look, I’m a Sylvanas stan, too. But it is very much apparent that Sylvanas only started the Fourth War for her own purposes, has clearly been in an alliance with the Jailer since Cataclysm (yet is hinted to not be entirely subservient to him), and even if she was doing everything up until Shadowlands as an extreme mixture of For the Greater Good and The End Justifies The Means she was still a toxic influence to the more honorable members of the Horde and to the Desolate Council. Even if her behavior were an act to conceal her true intentions, it would still not absolve her completely for all the atrocities she committed and the suffering she caused. Not even Nathanos, whom people have an obsessive, misandrist fixation of being based on someone who’s not despite being in the game for fifteen years prior to that dev joining Blizzard, would not be the best replacement for Sylvanas. Nathanos - the same man who loves Sylvanas so much he would do anything for her even as he pushes aside the brief moments where he hesitates following her orders and expresses shock at her actions - would not have either the Horde’s or the Forsaken’s best interests at heart, for his belongs only to her. After all, you can’t “redeem” a character if the character himself does not regret what they have done and does not want to change for the better.

Which is another thing I have noticed, in the years I have been in the WoW fandom: the concept of “redemption” in the wake of “character assassination” in the wake of events that caused by said characters that are often deemed questionable, which is what I believe makes people conclude the causation to be a source of “bad writing”. This also ties to what I also believe to be the misogynistic undertones the fandom expresses, simply because the events caused by questionable if dubious methods are done by a woman and not a man, which therefore leads to the notion that Blizzard “hates women”. This gives me the impression that these voices would prefer to have Blizzard write their women as someone who are pure and strong and multi-faceted but the minute she performs an action that not everyone is on board with then she is either considered “ruined” or a “dreadlord”, which is merely a cop-out excuse that you only see applied to the female characters (e.g. Jaina) but not the male characters; those men are simply called “evil” or “genocidal”, whether or not they are rightfully so. Then again, men are also considered “ruined” if they are so much as given the spotlight (e.g. Lor’themar in Nazjatar, Baine throughout BfA), but they are nowhere near under as much scrutiny than the women are (unless it’s Garrosh, then you’re going to have to put up with the “Garrosh Did Nothing Wrong” memes). Which leads us back to the hypocrisy the fandom shows towards Calia, a character to whom people call a “Mary Sue” but at the same time an “abomination” who is going to be “Queen of the Forsaken” that is being pushed by Blizzard to make the playerbase hate Sylvanas even more.

And from what we know about Calia, she is neither seeking to become “Queen of the Forsaken” for the foreseeable future nor a “Mary Sue” (if she were, she would’ve succeeded in making all the Forsaken defect to the Alliance and, you know, not die). Perhaps she is made to question if she is capable of providing for the Forsaken (for some, that is, for it was confirmed by Blizzard that not all Forsaken are willing to be lead by another Menethil, and one who had been missing and presumed dead for years at that). Perhaps she is an anomaly, but she is by no means perfection incarnate the fanbase paints her to be.

TLDR Calia Menethil is a character that deserves a chance at getting her character arc and development, and should be judged accordingly instead of jumping the gun.

[theauthenticcommunicator]

10 Tips To Vastly Improve Your Public Speaking

As a coach of speaking and communication skills, I've learned that the same strategies apply to almost every situation where we're sharing our thoughts and ideas.

Graduation speeches, job interviews, eulogies, first dates, sales pitches, monologues and scenes for theater and film, wedding speeches, keynote speeches, and presentations at work are all made better by applying the following recommendations.

01 Breathing

It's the very first thing and the very last thing we do in this life. Improving the quality of your breathing on a daily basis can lead to better physical, mental and spiritual health. How you breathe in the ten minutes before you speak in front of a room full of people will make or break your presentation. Calming your breathing through exercises is something you can start to work on today, so that later when you are called upon to make an impromptu speech you'll be able to master your physiology.

Simply defined, breathing is the interchange of oxygen and carbon dioxide in the body. When we have too much carbon dioxide in the bloodstream, we begin to feel dizzy and experience shortness of breath. Chronic shallow breathing causes anxiety, high blood pressure, digestive problems, sleep disorders, and more. Re- learning to breathe more deeply is one of the most valuable skills to improve.

Unconscious thoughts can sometimes bring to the fore ideas one might easily dismiss as unrealistic.

02 Nix the Notes

If you're a hard worker and you want to get things exactly right, you are likely planning to work with notes during your presentation. You'll rehearse over and over with the goal of getting it exactly right - maybe even close to perfect. The problem with using notes is that it becomes too easy to start reading from them when we're nervous. This will result in a pretty flat presentation. If you memorize your speech word for word, you'll be stuck in your head - remembering. You might get every word right, but you won't be present with your audience because you'll be chained to the script. Structuring the framework of your speech in a way that you'll easily remember is a better approach.

Investigate how you structure your ideas. Get feedback about how you organize your thoughts. This will help you to become more comfortable when you have to speak on the fly without any prep (and bonus: you'll sound smarter). You should absolutely prepare your speech, but there is a point in the preparation where you must trust yourself and put down the index cards.

03 Stand And Deliver

What we do with our bodies tells a story. Crossing your arms looks closed off and defensive. Putting your hands behind you will cause people to distrust you. It's important to allow people to SEE you, which can feel incredibly awkward. You don't want to appear too stiff. You also don't want to seem too casual. The best thing you can do is to get balanced on your own two feet.

Stand with your feet a little more than hips-width distance apart. Roll a little forward onto your toes, and then rock back toward your heels. Then, side to side. Find where your body feels the most centered and balanced. Stack your bones. Your knees over your ankles. Hips over your knees. Shoulders over your hips. Balance the weight of your head over the structure of your bones. Then relax your arms by your side, palms facing slightly forward.

Do this often. In the grocery store. In the kitchen. When it becomes second nature you will start to feel confident in this sturdy and solid stance. This neutral, ready-for-anything posture is your home base.

Unconscious thoughts can sometimes bring to the fore ideas one might easily dismiss as unrealistic.

04 Remember Who Is Listening

The speech you're giving isn't for you. You've been selected to give it, and all eyes are on you, but you are meant to be talking TO other people. If you lose sight of that you will find yourself talking AT them. Youtube videos and Zoom presentations are rife with this talking AT business because we lose the sensory feedback of our audience and have only the tiny red or green dot of the camera to address. It's easy to disconnect from the listeners.

How can you connect with your listeners? With your voice? With your eyes? With your intentions? This is also related to allowing people to SEE you. Awareness is half the battle. A coach can help you activate your presentations.

Sometimes we forget to talk with all of the people in the room. At weddings, the Best Person or Person of Honor often forgets to address the family and friends of the new partner in their toast (I did this!). Executives speak at a company-wide meeting but are often just addressing upper management and not the entire supporting staff.

Work to be inclusive of every body in the room.

05 Watch Yourself

Record yourself as you practice a speech and then watch it a few times. Look for the good stuff. Repeat this. This isn't so you'll hate what you're doing and fix and fix and fix. This is so you'll get comfortable watching yourself.

The more you watch yourself, and accept yourself - your voice, your body, and your presence - the more you'll accept that others will appreciate what you have to offer.

Unconscious thoughts can sometimes bring to the fore ideas one might easily dismiss as unrealistic.

06 Be Truly You

I receive a good many queries about Accent Reduction training and cultivating Executive Presence. I urge you to be thoughtful about these pursuits.

If you're speaking English as a second language, you are a rock star because English is a tough language to learn. In terms of accent reduction, how much is sufficient to reduce? What does it really mean to sound more "American" or "British"? Is it to sound more "white"? Why should you sound more "white"? If you are pronouncing a great many English words incorrectly, you will need to buckle down in your ESL work. But your accent is a part of YOU.

If anyone asks you to develop Executive Presence, press them for a very specific actionable definition. Are there specific skills you need to develop?

An Executive is someone who can be trusted to lead in the good times and the lean times. Executive Presence = Confident Leadership. There are many kinds of leaders out there. What kind of leader are you? Cultivate this.

You are enough. You are delightful. You are better off being you than trying to pretend you're somebody else. Humility and authenticity are more highly-valued than a suit jacket you can barely afford.

07 Bring In The Funny

It feels risky to reveal our sense of humor. Humor shows people who we really are and how we see the world. There are more appropriate times for humor than others, but sometimes nudging the boundaries a little is good for letting down our collective shoulders.

When our audience is distracted they are many separate people. When they are tuned in to a speaker they become a collective and present entity. Laughter connects us.

As a speaker, you control the energy in the room. It's important to read the room. Who are these people? Why did they come here? Are they hot? Are they hungry? Anyone in the theater or comedy biz will tell you that every audience is different. If a joke flops they will still connect with you more for trying. A planned recovery line ("Tough crowd, tough crowd...") can win them over.

Humor in a speech will humanize you. It's worth the risk and if you bring down the house you have everything to gain.

Unconscious thoughts can sometimes bring to the fore ideas one might easily dismiss as unrealistic.

08 Say Nice Things

If you beat up on yourself all the time with harsh thinking, you are going to be hard-pressed to believe yourself when you're mustering up the confidence to give a speech or to walk in proudly for the job interview.

If the messages you are always receiving inside yer noggin' are critical and damning, it's time to switch things up. We wouldn't talk to a child in the same way that we often talk to ourselves. It's incredibly important to change your self-talk immediately.

Start by writing a mini-speech called "My Favorite Things About Me". Give this short speech to yourself often. Recite it out loud. Recite it silently. Say good things about yourself when you're talking to other people. Say good things in your mind while you are brushing your teeth. Say good things a lot so you'll always know that you have YOU in your corner.

09 Skip the Sweet, the Sour, the Salty, the Spicy, the Sloppy, and the Stimulating

Sugar, chocolate, onions, garlic, dairy, pepper, chips, french fries, citrus, booze, and caffeine are ...amazing. They are also terrible dietary choices for presentation days.

Sugar, dairy, spice, and salt can create a bad scene in your gut and when that comes back into your throat at some point (sometimes you aren't even aware of it returning - it can be subtle), you'll find your voice sounds weaker, and will even begin to crack more. Citrus or dairy will put you into an alternating cycle of a dry throat and excess phlegm production. Booze is a bad idea for a number of reasons. Caffeine and nerves are a sweaty combination.

Eat some simple protein. Some rice. A few cooked veggies. Stop eating a couple of hours before you speak. Drink a whole lot of water up to an hour before your presentation. After that, just small sips.

Unconscious thoughts can sometimes bring to the fore ideas one might easily dismiss as unrealistic.

10 Feel The Feelings

You're nervous. You just are. Folks reach out to me to figure out if there's a way to stop feeling nervous. There really isn't. The reason why you're feeling this way is that there are so many unknowns. Public speaking is truly heightened uncertainty! The fear of public speaking has a name: Glossophobia.

It's like a roller coaster. You wait in line and start to psyche yourself out. You feel like you want to change your mind and RUN. Then there's a point of no return - you move forward - you're gonna DO this! And then you're a couple of minutes away from speaking and things get realllly uncertain.

Feeling fear can be a really fantastic way to get to know yourself. Feel it in your body. Relax your shoulders. Unclench your jaw. Breathe your calming breaths. See yourself in this moment. Tell yourself you're into it and that you'll enjoy the ride. You're gonna DO this thing - this crazy thing! You might even find yourself smiling about being in this crazy situation. That's exactly when you know you're ready.

Speaking and communicating well will benefit you in all areas of your life.

You can make great progress and get to a place where you aren't dreading presentations, meetings, or speeches. Communication skills are just that: skills to learn and practice. It might even become fun. It might even become something you love doing.

Reach out to me with questions. It would be a treat to hear from you.

Good luck to you!

aimee@theauthenticcommunicator.com

[musclestrength198]

HOW SUPPLEMENTS WILL HELP YOU LIVE BETTER.

Enhancements are expected to assist you in finishing your dietary needs. Obviously, an even eating routine will satisfy these requirements for some individuals - however actually, in case you're preparing, enhancements can assist you with boosting execution, recoup quicker and viably accomplish results by giving your body a more straightforward wellspring of explicit supplements you may not be getting enough of.

In this article, we're going to concentrate on the essentials of exercise or preparing supplements - from pre-exercise to evening supplements.

WHY TAKE SUPPLEMENTS?

One of the primary advantages of enhancements is that they give your body a steady gracefully of determined nourishment.

For Example:

Suppose you have recently completed an exercise. You return home and have a chicken bosom and rice all set. Definitely, this is an incredible post-exercise feast - yet it isn't determined and won't assimilate as quickly as a state, a WHEY protein shake with a sugar blend.

Regardless of whether you will probably beef up, lose fat, or improve perseverance and generally quality, when you put your body under worry at the exercise center, your body needs the vitality to get past your exercise, to assist you with getting the outcomes you're searching for, and to keep you from descending into sin.

SUPPLEMENTS SERVE A SPECIFIC PURPOSE

Not all enhancements are made the equivalent or fill a similar need. Contingent upon the requests of your preparation program, enhancements can help support exercise execution, empower quicker recuperation, increment supplement retention, increment testosterone, and the sky is the limit from there.

PRE-WORKOUT

These enhancements have two primary purposes; vasodilate (advanced bloodstream) and animate (put you in an elevated state - like caffeine). The blend of the expanded bloodstream and higher incitement implies you can move more supplements and vitality all through the body. Basically, you will have the option to work more diligently, for longer without feeling weariness.

INTRA-WORKOUT

During an exercise your body expects vitality to keep preparing. A total BCAA (Branched Chain Amino Acid) mix joined with B-Vitamins will furnish your body with consistent and supported vitality. The BCAA mix will likewise work to permit quicker recuperation.

Intra-Workout enhancements can likewise function as whenever supplements since they don't contain for all intents and purposes any energizers.

POST-WORKOUT

Protein, protein, protein, and little carbs (varying). A steady gracefully of protein will assist the body with recovering through a procedure called "muscle protein combination". Just by ingesting quickly retained protein will you animate this procedure and start recuperation. Sugars can be utilized to recharge "glycogen stores" - the vitality you used to exercise, with the goal that tomorrow you can bounce over into preparing.

A sensible protein shake with a starch mix is ideal for those that need to put on thick muscle. On the off chance that you will probably lose some weight, a protein shake alone will furnish your body with continued with noteworthiness and help to recoup muscle and other delicate tissue.

NIGHT TIME

Casein based protein has gotten exceptionally mainstream which is as it should be. Dissimilar to quick-acting WHEY protein, Casein processes gradually and can be taken before rest to give a steady flexibly of protein (and its amino acids) to the body while you rest.

If you will likely deal with mass upgrading protein prior can be more effective then authentically after an activity.

The overview of various improvements goes on any way they all fill a specific need. This is the huge inspiration driving why upgrades are basic to your accomplishment in the activity place.

Eating an in any event, eating routine is key yet it doesn't outfit you with as much unequivocal enhancement profiles as supplementation would.

EXERCISE INCREASES NUTRIENT DEMANDS

Consider when you were a youngster, going around on the play area - continually dynamic. At the point when you plunked down for dinner, you ate a lot of food. Obviously, you were likewise developing and expected to fulfill this need, yet practice innately expects you to eat more and supplement your eating regimen.

At the point when you practice your supplement prerequisites - explicitly starches and protein will increment by about 1.5x or more. This is the reason it gets critical to expanding supplement requests as you progress into longer and more troublesome exercises.

WHAT'S THE SIMPLE SOLUTION?

Eat an even eating regimen and supplement as per your supplement needs and weight.

As per the US/Canadian Dietary Reference Intakes, the RDA (Recommended every day recompense) for protein is 1.8g/lbs of body weight. This count fills in as the reason for any individual who is hoping to lead an even life. In the event that you are a competitor, for example, a muscle head your protein prerequisites might be raised to 2.1-2.8g/lbs of body weight contingent upon your movement levels.

YOUR DIET IS NOT NUTRIENT DENSE

As much as we prefer not to state it the standard eating regimen we have all been advised to eat isn't supplement thick. Eating an eating routine with handled grains, grain took care of hamburger, and an absence of stringy products of the soil is certifiably not a healthy way to deal with your well-being.

Having an eating regimen that is adjusted in vegetables, natural products, nuts, seeds, fit meats, and enhancements can assist you with fulfilling the needs your body requires after troublesome meetings of the activity.

SUPPLEMENTS ABSORPTION DECLINES WITH AGE

As we age we lose our power, even our imperatives. Numerous scientists accept this decrease in supplement assimilation is because of the absence of supplement retention that happens with maturing.

Enhancing your eating routine will push you to:

Increment vitality

Improve skin

Improve nerve work

Keep up solid bones

Keep up an ordinary digestion

SUMMARY

It is imperative to not simply take supplements for taking enhancements.

Each supplement fills a particular need in your exercise routine and way of life.

We realize that enhancing protein can help to recuperation muscles and improve insusceptible capacity just as complete multivitamins can help increment supplement ingestion and aid more prominent weight reduction.

Everybody can profit by clean protein shakes, extraordinary amino acids, and multivitamins so as to appreciate a sound and energetic life.

Feeling drained and sore all the time can prompt lost exercise objectives and weight gain. Enhancements are significant in light of the fact that they help us in accomplishing our objectives.

With the goal for you to flourish, appreciate life, and have vitality throughout the day you have to eat an even eating regimen and supplement varying.

[queernuck]

Primary Sources: Democrats as Inadequate in the Post-Truth Era

part of the problem with liberals right now is that their ideas seem to be concentrated on re-running and losing the 2016 election, about relitigating it through the impeachment process (something that Republicans are, naturally, seizing upon in their defenses of Trump despite it being a defense-through-distraction, a mischaracterization of what Trump has done and what defenses could be levied against him) and how much of this effort by Democrats is going into talking about “hating leftys” and “BernieBros” and insisting in some cases that the party has gone too far to the left, when this seems the most effective strategy to overcome apathy! 

Replicating Obama is, in a sense, the plan with which the Democrats may have the greatest success, working to court not just the few undecided voters but moreover previously-abstaining voters and even some disaffected Republican voters. There was something unique, something genuinely special about the movement surrounding him: Obama had the kind of symbolic liberatory potential that Žižek discussed when comparing his campaign to the Royal Wedding of Harry and Meghan, an affect of change and revolution. Of course, it bears mentioning that while he describes this as a singular, unique characteristic, we must discuss how it has not carried over into his public political life after office, how drastically it was absent from his actual governance, but resonates in his public persona all the same: that notion of revolution, of having “done it”, the failure that is captured by Ta-Neshi Coates’ idea that “We were eight years in power” and did nothing with it. Obama as lifestyle brand, Obama as celebrity, as American Royalty is part of his current aesthetic, his position in relation to the American people, and it is absolutely one that has seen him become a class traitor of the highest order.

The revolutionary potential that Meghan Markle served in marrying into royalty was the same that Obama’s election held, it excited a populace in a fashion that was visible, lead to a new structuring of potentiality, one that opened up the structure of potentiality in a phenomenological fashion like that used in the work of Merleau-Ponty. The means by which phenomenological limits are interrelated to structures of violence is not surprising, in “Throwing Like a Girl”, the means by which women are taught as girls to throw in a way which does not threaten their femininity, does not risk encouraging a love for sports beyond a certain level, does not allow them to actually realize potentiality through their bodies, involves restricting the machines of the body such that they go through a becoming-woman, mirrored in the behavior taught to boys which allows them to go on into baseball, football, basketball at higher levels. The way that girls and then women are understood as less-capable effectively makes it true, makes it such that girls are never given the opportunities to develop. In this way, a black woman becoming a princess, a black man becoming president, these represent potentiality beyond what was before possible, represent a becoming-possible not only in the minds of those who have not seen themselves in such a way before, but moreover those who would doubt such as possible forcing their dealing with such potentiality and making it such that it cannot be denied. 

The genuineness of the celebration, the way in which it represents genuine belief (despite a lack of genuine opportunity) is a kind of gesture whereby the semiotic exchange at hand becomes real, it is a belief in the Real that makes the Real develop out of the symbolic, it is this act of believing that these examples allow. It is the belief in Obama’s power that Coates professes that makes Obama anything other than a typical politician, that makes him actually “in power” despite both Republican opposition and a willingness to capitulate to Democrats on issues of not disturbing American hegemony. The truth of Obama’s work is far different, but the campaign around him was so symbolic, so much predicated on that symbolic value, that to deny it was to deny his campaign. In coming out of the Bush years merely being a Democrat up for the nomination was enough to be revolutionary, to be a figure of difference, Change, Hope. The weight of the Bush years, the way in which there was a kind of over-symbolizing Real created for Obama to work within, the ringing celebrity endorsements, the artistic vocabulary laid out by so many for free in his name, how many artists created a cultural Moment for Obama, singularities of signification, made it such that just as previous liberal movements had been able to sublimate countercultural shifts and previous countercultural moments gone mainstream during the early 2000s in defiance of the Iraq War, so too was the election of Obama becoming a kind of reversal of hegemony, a means of voting out the order symbolized by Bush. As a black man, Obama would be a fundamental shift so great that he could not help but bring new life to America, such that change would be the defining legacy of his presidency. 

Instead, of course, the defining legacy is a tendency toward using executive power that enabled many of the most-criticized directives and overreaches of Trump’s administration. The way in which Obama structured executive power, how he conceptualized his own presidency and in turn realized it, was not any sort of “change” from established hegemony, but rather a reinforcement of it. The disaffection with Obama’s legacy that got Trump elected was a reversal of it, a new symbolic-potential that played in interest of hegemony rather than against it. Clinton was a bad candidate, and still won the popular vote. Most of the country was willing to vote for her if they voted at all. Meanwhile, the Appeal of Trump laid in a kind of reversal wherein the semiotic structuring and resignification of the Real seemed to be a reversal of Obama: he was creating an “actual” by saying the unsayable, by expressing the inexpressible, by appearing to oppose the neoliberal hegemony represented by Obama. Meanwhile, Hillary Clinton’s campaign emphasized that she would continue it, that her legacy would continue Obama’s, that she would simply pick up where he left off. For so, so many, this is inadequate, this is actively harmful, this is not nearly enough. 

Clinton before, and now Biden, seek to use their relevance in Obama’s administration to shift to a new position, placing their own neoliberal credentials alongside Obama’s to emphasize the lack of a leftward shift, the reliable and standard politics that Obama has professed an allegiance to in speaking engagements after his presidency, the way he has embraced neoliberalism openly and proudly rather than looked at it shamefully as a secret affair as it was during his campaign. Clinton’s comparative unbearability, her lack of appeal, was in large part influenced by an inability of many to understand that her continuation of Obama’s legacy would be one in which the violent foreign policy, the use of special forces and air superiority to conduct proxy wars and military interventions, would be continued. Trump’s lack of decorum about this has provoked many democrats, just as many different actions were blamed on Obama when American soldiers died during his presidency, despite full support for the missions they were on from the politicians in question. 

In Žižek’s ironic endorsement of Trump, a shift leftward was hoped: the way in which Trump’s fascist turn would in turn inspire the Democratic party to move to the Left has been seen, in part, by a realization that Trump represents the growth of fascist ideology, fascism coalescing in capitalist control, privatization, the way in which the growth of this as a kind of Real, within the Real, would in turn symbolize how Democrats willingly allowed this to develop, how Democrats have played a role in this. However, while Democrats have put on some sort of show against Trump, they have done so little to genuinely oppose him, his action, that Pelosi announced the beginning of impeachment proceedings against him before continuing on to announce support for a trade deal brokered by him, in effect demonstrating the exact kind of relationship Trump has with neoliberal governance: he voices the ideals within it that should not be said, while embodying the intent quite well. For Žižek, this would force the recognition of Democrats’ tepid neoliberal politics and a reaction in the form of a leftward shift, which indeed has been seen in certain election results. 

However, in an attempt to replicate the failures of elections past, the Democrats are trotting out candidates that are proudly a part of the centre-right, are more than happy to remind those around them of that, and are attempting in this way to win over Trump voters. The chance of any Trump voter actually being won over by these candidates is low, if any, but this is true of most Democrats due to the galvanizing ideological turn necessary to choose Trump in the first place. Obama’s win, and Trump’s, was based in potentiality, the means by which it seemed as if something were made possible by the candidate regardless of the actual potential. The relatively “Real” potential of Hillary Clinton as the first woman president was undercut by her role in the Obama administration, that she was effectively so close that the move was not seen as meaningful, that her “insider” status kept her from benefiting from that as a display of potential. Meanwhile, her politics showed little aspiration, were about codifying Obama’s legacy and keeping what few advances made under him there were in check, making it such that Obama’s liberatory strides did not stride too far. Trump was a reactionary, but one who drew out the anti-politically correct through the formation of a new vocabulary. 

Anti-Political Correctness is in fact a sort of political correctness, is very much a similar sort of act of vocabulary-making, is involved in this. Trump said things that were not “politically correct” but were perfectly allowable, were a part of voicing incredibly popular opinions, and in this way he projected a political correctness of his own. The resignified vocabulary that was used to describe his supporters as “deplorable” lead to that becoming a sign of pride, the reclaiming of vocabulary engaging in a profound alteration of intent, of Death of the Author so that any discussion of trump was in fact a secret endorsement either in code or in coming from such an unseemly source that it in fact must be read as an endorsement all of the same. Žižek’s support was in some sense between these, a recognition of the intent of Trump’s legislature, of course, and a realization of it as profoundly dangerous, but being convinced that Democrats would not be willing to even investigate their rightward slide without being told by voters that admitted Republicans were more attractive options for being politically correct enough to state their intent outright. Some Democrats have learned from this, others have formed a #Resistance based out of merely being an alternative to Trump, to finding Trump lacking, a judgment that has been made within Trump’s own party, by the likes of John Bolton, even by fascist Richard Spencer. The way that framings of his assassination of Solemani by Democrats as unacceptable only because they were not consulted, because of Solemani not being the right sort of existential threat, the kind that Democrats would want credit for taking out, has made this clear.

Bringing out Buttegig, Steyer, Biden as candidates would spell doom for the Democrats in large part because they will do little to inspire anyone to vote for them but Democrats. The number of Democrats who went red for Trump is rather small, but the number of undecided voters who might abstain when faced with candidates such as these is enormous simply because their own position is so unsure, is very much indicative of a sense on the Democrats’ part that they are entitled to votes that have not been campaigned for, districts they have done little for, winning elections simply because they present candidates who are not as reprehensible as the opposition rather than by presenting a remotely desirable option. Warren and Sanders alike hold some potential, in that their radical (and self-professed as such) proposals and positions stand a chance of convincing non-voters, those left apathetic by Clinton and Trump, to put a vote behind someone. It is not that there was a betrayal in not voting, when so much goes into making it so that registered voters cannot vote, and potential voters cannot register. Republicans have mastered the art of structuring the electoral college in their favor, as the last election indicated. Rather, it was in large part due to that way that no real election felt contested, the most inconsequential and confusing of choices presented. 

Democrats, if they stand satisfied with Neoliberal order, will lose again, will have learned nothing from the last election.

[lillianhillard-blog]

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[arctikan]

SUB-ZERO  has been passed from several warriors,  a singular identity to describe the lin kuei’s skill, competence, force  - & the  danger  one has in proximity of the mantle. but no sub-zero’s been exactly the same. while the title describes the striking similarities between the lin kuei & the values they shared, sub-zero will always be a unique individual, formed from their place in time & space, & kuai liang has his own abilities  ( as well as shortcomings )  that set him apart.

. BODY & MIND

the body of an experienced fighter is hardened, the body of a cryomancer demands a warrior’s body for use. while someone could imitate a fit body through their ice, it’d eventually wear down the body with the weight. cryomancy & intense training come hand-in-hand - kuai liang can handle his power because he can handle extremities done to his body for & from combat. 

kuai liang is bright, enthralled from knowledge of the world & further the intricacies of life, love, sentience, & death. but it’s not just this that solidifies him as the current sub-zero & impresses both his rivals as well as his allies. in fact, it’s once been remarked by his brother to SET HIM BACK  - kuai  refuses complacency. the positive is he strays from the conventional, the typical, the overly submissive & perseveres against the past corruption of the lin kuei . . . on the other hand, he often overthinks.

his curiosity has been greatly hampered by the very traditions he’s objected to - he was only ever taught enough so he could kill,   &  do it well. this includes basic anatomy, several languages, & the known sciences behind cryomancy’s impact on earthrealm. he speaks mandarin, cantonese, japanese, english, & spanish - from the latter two he can usually pick up the patterns of latin-derived languages. very early in his life, he could comprehend nimipuutímt (the language spoken by niimipuu people of the nez perce reservation) from his mother & brother, though bi-han then discouraged them speaking it besides privately to then retaliate against it being spoken at all. while public resources exist for his relearning of it, kuai liang hardly now sees the point.

he has something  else  that emphasizes his potential  &  sets him apart from the previous cryomancers as well as bi-han & frost. though both are remarkable in their own way, kuai liang harnesses an unique style of weapon-based cryomancy through his  eidetic memory. some of his more larger creations continue to be crude & simply functional, but his weapons are blades, handles, & ends wielded within the lin kuei temple he’s able to emulate, down to the slightest groove & mark, with ice.

it’s all carved from his subconscious, which he then crafts with near immediacy for battles. this can also be seen with he mimicking the axes in his FINAL BLOW - they are replicas, when they could have been crude ice-stakes. while he thinks  NOTHING  of it, even his ability to create detailed statues without a cast or reference, someone who pays attention will soon realize sub-zero can make  any  detailed form against them at will.

. CRYOMANCY + FIGHTING

cryomancy has effected the fighting style of the lin kuei; though many learn dragon-style by default, cryomancers have more freedom to practice from those that strayed to master other styles & develop their own techniques that effectively execute their powers. throughout his childhood, kuai liang had several instructors, all being  family  for cryomancy though joined with practitioners for dragon-style, shotokan, & ninjutsu (the final being from cyrax).

kuai liang’s temperament shifts dramatically with each given scenario  -  he does not fight in sparring as he does when lives are threatened. the more dire the stakes, the more his practiced cryomancy  invades  his fighting, becoming a stylized redirection of the opponent’s intent or aggression.

mastery of cryomancy comes in several milestones, though they all sum up to the wielder’s range,  the ability to be unaffected by your own power / hazards of your own creation, & the speed of your manifestations. range is where kuai liang lacks  -  he’s made his cryomancy less of a distancing force & more of a way to  corner  an opponent. when someone’s cornered, they lose their bettered self - they become vulnerable to their instincts & panic. not unlike a predator, kuai liang then strikes with  BRUTE FORCE  - quick but ruthless executions that serve their function &  prove a point.

where he falls through in range, he  excels  in speed & having become one with his power. his power seldom’s used against him, & the ability to cast yourself into ice as you move from your place has been a technique passed down  seamlessly  through generations. his cryomancy is as forceful as it is instantaneous, unless he is hampered by his environment. though, that’d take an INCREDIBLE amount of heat.