#hopefully it will appeal to at least one other person

[booasaur]

I think there are some takeaways here, if we want to learn from this.

First: third-party voters were irrelevant. In no swing state did left-leaning third-party voters add up to enough to push Harris over.

Second: many progressive policies and politicians outperformed Harris.

Third: appealing to Republicans did not work.

It has never worked, in the US or in Europe, we've seen time and again that giving ground to right wing policies only legitimizes them and voters then prefer the original. For example, if you worry about immigration, and both sides are saying it's a problem, who do you trust more to handle it?

Fourth: polls were pretty accurate. There were months, years, really, of debate about polling being broken, which demographics were underrepresented, which were overrepresented, herding, hopes that they were overcorrecting for the last two misses on Trump, but they ended up closer than anybody wanted. Which also means that Biden would have lost by even worse.

Fifth: on the one hand, people should hopefully see this graphic and realize there's no minority to scapegoat:

On the other hand, I'm seeing a lot of people take it as a sign the country has simply shifted to the right in a huge, undeniable way that's depressing and ominous and feels hopeless. After all, Trump will win the popular vote by a lot, the first time a Republican has in decades.

However, this should be taken in conjunction with these numbers:

Now THIS is something that's open to further analysis and that can be worked with.

Why did so many Democrat voters not show up?

Here are some potential reasons for this, the truth most likely being a combination of at least several of them:

She's a Black-Indian woman. There's no denying the racism and misogyny among the US electorate, but given earlier polls where she was leading, I don't think this was the main or certainly only reason.

She was seen as too progressive/leftist. Again, by virtue of our racist, misogynistic electorate and our billionaire-owned media, Harris was seen as too extreme left by a lot of people, not just because of policies, but because inherently, her identity itself is extreme left to them. I personally don't think this was a crucial factor because, again, she had been leading when she was going stronger on the progressive messaging, other progressive policies and politicians outperformed her, and a lot of the people who think she's too extreme are Republicans who'd never vote for her. I just don't think it's a good enough reason for the millions of Democrats who didn't show.

Palestine. There's a coalition of pro-Palestine people, not just Muslims and Arab Americans but leftists and other POC too, but numerically, their vote for third parties made no difference. Did enough shift to Trump or not show up at all? Certainly in Michigan they swung to the right, but would that have made a difference? Did they matter in other less tangible ways, e.g., a lot of the same active progressives who'd have been out campaigning simply voted quietly for Harris and left it at that? How much of a distraction was this for Dems, having to constantly address Gaza as opposed to putting forth their own policies, and did it contribute to the overall perception of them being incompetent and weak and bringing chaos when people were tired of it? I think Palestine did have an effect, but enough to swing it overall...?

Not being progressive enough. A lot of people will point to Palestine and immigration, the decision to campaign with Liz Cheney and Mark Cuban and court Republican moderates, stifling Walz, and various other shifts that abandoned the left for the center and then the left didn't show up while the center went for Republicans as they always do, but the left isn't that large. I think, if this one point is a factor, it's more that it was simply difficult for normal voters to show up when they didn't really know what the candidate stood for, aside from "more of the same" and "not Trump".

Biden. When you have a ton of people unhappy with where the country is going, including their biggest priority, the economy, being tied to an unpopular incumbent was going to be tough, especially when, as a Black-Indian woman, she would be judged as disloyal if she broke too much from him. Nevertheless... People were unhappy with him and his administration.

Ultimately, I think there's a lot to learn and I hope Dems will.

I think we're in for a tough time and we're going to need community and solidarity, not fighting among ourselves.

[bumblingbeezzz]

I agree more with the insight that they basically just wanted a situation where they thought they could be important. The shooting POC thing is a bit of a wild leap. Like, there's some overlap, but I really think those traits are not connected to a desire for a post-apocalyptic world. We're talking about dudes who watched the Walking Dead and thought it made for good vacation plans from the drudge of average modern life. Okay, admittedly I was somewhat in that ballpark at one point. Never been the least bit conservative, but in my fantasies I found the idea of living in apocalyptic scenarios to be thrilling. Terrifying af (zombies are one of my worst fears), but thrilling. I liked the idea of having surplus resources to just go out and gather in pre-processed and pre-packaged form for free, enjoying the empty liminal spaces of abandoned places, and eventually just starting civilization over from scratch. Not because I thought there was anything so wrong with the world that it needed to be scrapped Biblical-flood style (other than feeling generally overcrowded and thinking about the taxing effect of every person's carbon footprint on the environment) I just, well I don't know really, I probably never truly wanted it because I never liked the idea of huge amounts of people dying, and I'm sure being in survival mode all the time would've gotten old pretty quick and I'd miss being able to chill with all the glory of modern conveniences. Part of the supposed appeal was definitely seeing various characters fail so badly at surviving because of really basic failures of common sense and safety, I guess it had that weird effect on me that I was eager to try and do better. Go figure. I am wiser now, hopefully obviously. If faced with that outcome, I'd probably kill myself pretty early on, maybe right off the bat, just to avoid a more horrific death. Or maybe I'd try for a bit, see how long I last, I dunno. Maybe I'd make some friends, help them stay alive. People who, just four Sundays ago, were going to movie theaters and posting on their socials, posting pictures of themselves in their new favorite outfit. Now are spattered with dried blood and mud, they wear slings and pouches, make-shift armor of plastic tubing and duct-tape. People who've been hardened and weathered the way the sun dries leather; by the choices they've had to make, the losses they've endured, and the emotional armor the've had to construct to adapt to this unforgiving new world. Well, it's definitely something more suited to exploring in fiction.

[adhd-merlin]

Vignette II: For Fun

Relationships: Gwen/Merlin/Arthur Tags: Polyamory, Established Relationship, Canon Era, Period Typical Attitudes, Questionable Use of Tenses Series: Call It Anything We Want Summary:

In which there is some fun experimenting. Set some time after Merlin's magic reveal.

Entirely plotless, so it can be read as a stand-alone.

“It’s just… odd,” Arthur says. Merlin lips twitch, as if to repress a smile. “You like odd.” “Well, apparently there’s a limit to how much odd I can take.”

READ ON AO3

[nayatarot777]

What Type Of Partner Would Be Compatible With You?

I’m doing this reading in hopes of bringing clarity to a lot of you regarding the type of people who’d truly be good for you in comparison to the people who you may want - because those two types of people may not coincide with each other. Hopefully this reading can either confirm that you know which personality traits/characteristics would complement yours or that it at least brings you clarity to the topic at hand.

• Pile One •

Your compatible partner would be someone who is quite different to you. This is someone who people would never pair you with, but your differences clearly complement each other. I’m seeing that if you are someone who is lacking in emotional expression or if you are just emotionally suppressed, then your partner will be someone who is very emotionally expressive. Very emotionally giving too, but I don’t think that this will make you feel smothered because I have a feeling that this type of partner would be able to read your energy and see that the love that they give is love that you need shown to you - even if you act like you don’t need it. And if you are someone who is very emotionally expressive, I feel like your partner will be the opposite. They’ll be quite emotionally held back in terms of showing how they feel and expressing how they feel, but you guys who relate to that have the ability to read your partner and the ability to tell what they’re feeling. So therefore, I feel like your partner’s lack of emotional expression won’t bother you as you can feel their love anyway. They are probably the type of person to express their love in practical ways instead of emotional ways, but that won’t bother you since you see the deep love in their acts of service.

I am also seeing that your compatible partner will be someone who’s very in touch with their sexuality. Very sexually appealing,m as well as very beautiful too. I feel like this is a compatible trait with you because I have a feeling that you guys may be sexually suppressed a little bit or you may not see the beauty in yourself. So, the universe in this case would be showing you how beautiful you are through the ability to attract a beautiful partner because I’m seeing that you guys would be a very good looking couple - although a strange match in other peoples eyes. However, I feel like one commonality between you that people would see is how physically attractive the both of you are. I am also seeing this partner highlighting to you the beauty of every phase of life, the good as well as the bad - perceivably. I feel like this partner has a lot of Taurus energy because they seem to be able to see the beauty in dark moments quite easily whereas you might struggle with that. You guys could be quite modest people or dress quite modestly, and if so, your partner is going to be the complete opposite. If you’re the person who is very sexually expressive - whether that’s through the way that you dress or through what you talk about - then your partner will be the one who comes across as more modest.

There is a theme here of someone having a distorted view and I’m seeing that for a lot of you this definitely could be you in regards to your physical appearance and your own beauty. It could also be towards certain circumstances in life and your partner would be someone who is able to see the truth of you or life’s circumstances in order to teach you how to view them in a much clearer way. I’m hearing that this partner would help you to advance your clairvoyant abilities in order to see through the smoke and mirrors and the cloudiness of your perception that you may have in regards to yourself or life in general. This person likes to be quite hidden, but from the shadows is where they observe. So there is Taurus energy as well as Scorpio energy. This person can see through the surface level of people and situations which you may struggle to do at times. That might be what the distorted view is about regarding you. But your partner will help you to see the things that you should see clearly as a way of showing you the realities of people who you may need to stay away from. Because I am seeing that both of you would be very close. They’re very protective over you in a very loving way. I’m hearing that some of you would be attached-to-the-hip with your partner, but it won’t feel smothering because the protective nature isn’t coming from a negative, low-vibrational place. It’s not coming from insecurity or jealousy. It’s just coming from a need to protect you out of love and with the purpose and duty of leading you onto the path of your highest good. So therefore, they will kind of be the person who watches out for any dangerous people or situations on your behalf while also teaching you to do that for yourself.

Significant Numbers: 4, 17, 2, 27, 27 - 2727 is an angel number that you can research for an extra message - 28

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• Pile Two •

Your compatible partner is someone who really helps you to get your life in order. Someone who helps you with clearing out the mess and the dirt and the grime - figuratively speaking. This could also be in a literal sense, so for those of you who are quite messy people, I’m seeing that your compatible partner is someone who’s very tidy and orderly. This is someone who is very empowered within themselves and their empowerment leads them to ensure that their life is in order because this empowerment allows them to know that they are the ones in control of their lives. Now, you guys might be people who find yourselves stuck in a victim mindset. You might be someone who is plagued by negative thoughts about yourself or about life in general, but this compatible partner will lead by example and initiate a lot of powerful personal growth within you. This is with the purpose of helping you out of this victim mindset in order for you to realise - just like they have - that you are not a victim to life itself. And that you actually have the ability to be in control of your life if you recognise that and find a way to be. This is someone who would empower you to honour yourself and to honour your self-development by cleaning up behaviours or mindsets or habits that are holding you back.

For some reason, I’m feeling like a lot of people in this pile have dated people (or have simply been attracted to people) who would have done the opposite. Who would have kept you stuck in your own victim mindset and negative patterns of behaviour because of the fact that they were themselves. But your compatible person is someone who is the complete opposite. This person is going to help you to reject the narrative that you’re a victim and that you have no personal power. They are going to cause you to realise that you are actually a very powerful person when you work through the fear and the anxiety and perhaps even your traumas in order to get to the point in which you can listen to your intuition. This compatible partner definitely could be older than you. I feel like there is quite a significant age difference between the both of you so you guys might have more luck with dating people who are older than you. With those who may have more life experience. Those who have learned to overcome the phase that you’re in right now.

Please take that with a grain of salt if you’re underage or just young: do not actively try to date people who are much older than you because most of the time in those cases, there is the element of manipulation towards the naivety of the young person. But if this isn’t someone who is older than you, this is just someone who is more older internally than they are physically. They have a very, very mature mindset. They may think like someone who is years older than them. They have a lot of wisdom that I feel is passed down from the elders in their lives. I’m also seeing that this is someone who is able to handle rejection quite well, and you might be the opposite. You might internalise rejection - whether that’s rejection from people, rejection from workplaces, or rejection from opportunities. It could be rejection from anything, but you guys might not handle rejection very well. And you may internalise it and use that rejection as ‘proof’ that you are not deserving or worthy of whatever it is that you want. But this person is going to change that narrative. Like I said before, they are someone who will reject that narrative that you’re a victim to life because it’s not true. You may be a victim of certain people as most of us are, but that doesn’t mean that the universe and life itself is victimising you. And that’s something that that this compatible partner would want to teach you.

Significant Numbers: 43, 22, 41, 15, 13, 12

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• Pile Three •

Your compatible partner is someone who has been through a lot. They had to drag themselves up out of the mud after being beaten down so much throughout life. To the point that they are someone who would’ve entered a Phoenix rising moment. They would’ve realised their own power and realised that they have the alchemic ability to transmute pain, trauma, and negativity into something that’s gives them comfort and stability and healing. This person would be a master at transforming and the transmutation of negative energy into something beneficial for themselves. I feel like this person could definitely be heavily into occult knowledge or just be heavily connected to the unseen energies and forces in life. They have a very keen understanding of the spirit realm. Of energy and physics. And they know how to manipulate energy in order to get what they want out of their own negative experiences and pain. They’re also someone who is highly connected to the universe and their spirit guides. They pay attention to the messages and the signs that the spirits that they’re connected to like to show to them. This person might do all of these things unconsciously. They might not be the type of person to speak in these terms but ultimately, they are an alchemist. And they know how to transmute energy extremely well. They are spiritually connected to a very high level, even if they wouldn’t put it that way.

This person is someone with very strong boundaries. It’s almost like they cast a circle of boundaries around themself for the sake of self-protection from energies and people and situations that they don’t need to be around. And they have a very keen intuition alongside the understanding of messages from the universe, which helps to keep them safe and protected. This is someone who is well acquainted with the dark and negative energies of life, but they’ve used those types of energies to their advantage. There’s also something about this person‘s eyes. I feel like this type of person is perceived as someone who can see through people and situations, it’s almost like when they’re looking at physical + 3D things and people, they are seeing the undercurrent of energy within those things/people. This person is a bit of a contradiction because I feel like most people who meet them sense all of this hardship and pain and trauma that they’ve had to go through, so their energy is quite heavy - maybe dark to a lot of people - but out of their negative experiences, out of all of the moments of death (literally and figurative), they’ve become some type of earth angel who has the alchemic knowledge to heal themselves as well as others - including you.

If you were in a relationship with them, this person would not be someone who is comfortable with being a victim to life circumstances. Even when they are made a victim. They will convert themselves into a survivor and figure out how to use that victim-hood as a tool to make them the winner in the end. This person does not fucking play about their boundaries 😂. They really don’t. I feel like they are very, very adamant at keeping their boundaries intact because their boundaries are a representation of the power that they have over the energies that they allow into their life. And they’re so used to feeling like they don’t have power from earlier experiences that they don’t play about showing their power and acting on their power for the sake of their own self-protection. This may be your compatible partner because I have a feeling that you guys are exactly like this yourselves. You need someone like this who can protect themselves because you protect your own energy. And when your boundaries are strong, you don’t need someone else who has weak boundaries who will bring destructive energy into both of your lives. When you’re someone who is able to listen to the universe and rise above hardships in life, you don’t need someone next to you who would rather stay in a victim mindset and just let negative energies have their way with them. I feel like this person is your equal. Although you are both rare types of people, they are your equal.

Significant Numbers: 25, 32, 40, 4, 37, 16

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[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

I know there's still behind the scenes footage left out there (hopefully Peaches will be kind enough to post it tomorrow). But in the meantime, these are my favorite shots so far:

Flirty Jungkook, creating a jikook bubble and on the right, Jimin using the SNTY excuse to show off his well-trained ass.

I can see the appeal of the extra footage, but what surprised me the most was that the more personal/mundane conversations were not included in the original run of AYS?!

I'm thinking of Jungkook and Jimin talking about Bam, or their knowledge of slang and word origin (a little more interesting than only showing us originally how they just tell each other how good the food is).

Neverending inside jokes and being fond of each other

And last but not least, I believe we have an instance of tea spilling at the same magnitude as "4 am together" in 2020:

Jimin, do you know the power of your words? And how many people screamed internally when you shared another of your "me and Jungkook together at night" stories? Apologize!

A 14-hour flight without any sleep after a schedule and Jungkook still cooked for Jimin in the evening immediately after he got home and then they probably stayed up until the morning when they left for Jeju. Eight episodes of AYS?! later and this one little thing got to me the most.

[suzukiblu]

If you are still taking requests I would love some Jason Todd!

There's a couple of ways to ID a soulmate, but the traditional–and usual–one is a kiss. Basically any exchange of bodily fluids will do it, of course, but most people kiss way before they get around to fucking bareback and a kiss is also definitely less likely to result in hepatitis than swapping blood with strangers. And, like, it's also more romantic and that tends to appeal to people more even when the involved soulmates aren't actually romantic. Like it's way easier to laugh off that one time you slipped your destined BFF tongue than it is to explain a bloodborne illness to your GP.

So naturally, Jason finds out who his soulmate is by accidentally bleeding all over the guy in the middle of a random stupid throwdown with supervillains in San Francisco.

Also, naturally said guy is Tim's boyfriend who still justifiably hates Jason's ass for all the fucked up shit he's done and said to Tim.

Jason is pretty sure this would count as another reason for Superboy to hate his ass, except the one mercy in this situation is that Superboy was unconscious for their accidental blood-swap, so he at least doesn't know they're soulmates.

The lucky bastard.

Fuck everything, Jason thinks, and then resolves to never think about it again. Which he doesn't, because even having a thought around Bruce is basically the same thing as handing the bastard a signed confession.

It sucks, admittedly? Like, Jason's not gonna pretend it doesn't suck. He didn't ever think he'd get a coffee shop meet-cute with his soulmate, assuming he had enough of a soul left to actually have one, but he'd at least expected to get somebody who wasn't already dating the brother he's treated worst and who did not, ideally, hate his guts.

Or who at least hated his guts in a sexy way that could result in a nice enemies-with-benefits situation to spice up his sex life and maybe hopefully one day evolve into . . . he doesn't know, frenemies-with-benefits? Or something?

Superboy is not gonna be up for cheating on his boyfriend with said boyfriend's adoptive brother, Jason is very damn sure. For one thing, if he was, Jason wouldn't want to fuck him anyway, much less be his soulmate. Jason is a murderer and a bastard but he is also a ride or die, okay, and he doesn't give a shit what the universe says, there is no damn way that he'd accept a soulmate like that.

Also, like, since the accidental blood-swap went down, now when they get close enough there's an empathy bond going and Jason can absolutely feel how fucking <i>besotted</i> Superboy is by every little thing Tim does and says and just is.

And he can also feel how much the guy hates him.

Jason has never had better control of his pit rage than since realizing that if Superboy ever felt it, it'd be absolutely undeniably obvious what it was and where it was coming from.

It is fucking amazing what a desperate person can get a handle on. Like, really.

Jason went to fucking therapy for this shit. It sucks and he hates it and he wants to burn down the whole stupid office every time, but he's still going every week because fuck forbid he lose control enough that somebody realize something is up.

Jason's self-control is not helped by the fact that Superboy has his own anger issues, but it's not like they get all that close to each other all that often anyway. He very rarely has to worry about Superboy picking up on anything from him. Mostly he just has to worry about not being any worse to Tim than he already has been and making excuses to avoid any situation that Superboy might theoretically pop up in. He has absolutely no designs on fucking up Tim's relationship. Ever.

He guesses he and Superboy could have a platonic bond, admittedly. Like, that's possible.

Except Superboy constantly insists on wearing a painted-on bodysuit and studded black leather and strappy belts and looking like a porn star parody of a superhero, along with regularly smirking like a cocky asshole who just so happens to be the second coming of sin, and Jason has a very difficult time not finding all of that just unspeakably hot, so that seems unlikely.

So yeah, Jason's definitely not telling anyone that they're soulmates. Possibly ever. At least not as long as Superboy and Tim are still into each other and in undeniably perfect romantic love, anyway.

It's not like Jason's waiting for them to break up or something, or for the probably likelier but much more upsetting option that is Tim fucking dying. He's a bastard, again, but he's not that kind of a bastard.

He really hopes this is just one of those bullshit bonds that don't actually become relevant until the involved bondmates are, like, octogenarians or whatever. Which is not something Jason would've ever expected to want from his soulmate, but Jason also did not ever expect his soulmate to turn out to be Tim's boyfriend, so yeah. Well, life's a bitch and also full of surprises.

It's impossible to always avoid Superboy, all things considered, but Jason usually can, and thanks to Bat-training and his time with the League and just who he is as a person he's very good at keeping his emotions on lockdown when the dude's around without it actually looking like he's keeping his emotions on lockdown. Mostly he just ignores him and acts like he thinks he's irrelevant, and Superboy seems perfectly happy with that.

But again, it's impossible to always avoid him, and they're on the same side and everything, more or less. Jason therefore can't technically bitch about the guy randomly landing in the middle of his rooftop stakeout wearing that cocky asshole smirk of his and also his painted-on bodysuit and studded black leather.

Or he couldn't, except that it is very obviously not actually Superboy wearing all those things. For starters, Superboy never wears that smirk when he's looking at Jason.

For another thing, Jason knows his own damn soulmate when he sees him. Like, he is not actually that oblivious or stupid a person as to not recognize his own damn soulmate.

"Hey, man," fake Superboy greets casually as his boots hit the roof. Jason runs the internal numbers on whether or not fake Superboy has real Kryptonian powers and decides better safe than sorry, then hits the panic button hidden in the collar of his jacket as he turns to fully face him, making the gesture look like an idle adjustment.

"Robin need something?" he asks, cocking his head questioningly. Seems wisest to pretend like he's falling for this bullshit, whatever it is. Especially if Kryptonian powers are currently a concern.

"Naw," the fake Superboy says, his smirk widening crookedly. "This one's an . . . off-the-books social call, as it were."

"Oh, we make social calls, now?" Jason asks dryly, resisting the irrational urge to hit his panic button again. Not actually a helpful urge, that. The thing's already streaming live audio and video to Oracle and the Batcomputer to get everyone in the loop on what the problem is, that's all that matters. Extra hitting would just make it likelier that fake Superboy might notice something.

"Maybe I just wanted to see you, Hood," fake Superboy says as his smirk turns into a wicked grin, and steps towards Jason with very familiar and incredibly unsubtle body language that, again, has never once been directed towards him.

Goddammit.

Well, good thing Jason hit his panic button, because there is no damn way this is ending well. He's never actually used the thing before, it's a recent addition to his gear now that he and the Bats are actually mostly working together again, but he already appreciates said addition very, very much.

Assuming that Bruce is packing kryptonite tonight, anyway.

Fuck, he'd better be.

. . . also assuming that whoever this fake Superboy is happens to be vulnerable to kryptonite. Or at least currently happens to be vulnerable to kryptonite. Jason's not sure if this is like a bodyswap situation or a more traditional possession or just a doppelganger or a shapeshifter, but who the hell even knows. Not mind control, he's pretty sure, unless it's the kind that really fucks with somebody's personality. Like, yes, that is Superboy's body language and Superboy's facial expressions and even Superboy's microexpressions, but it's just . . . not Superboy behind any of it. Like, very obviously not.

. . . weirdly obviously, actually. Like, Jason's really feeling the uncanny valley right now.

Ugh.

Well, hopefully this person or thing or weird psychic projection thinks he's fucking stupid.

"Did you now," Jason says, eyeing fake Superboy through his helmet. Schooling his expression doesn't really matter right now, except of course X-ray vision is a thing, so actually never mind, maybe it does. Again: goddammit.

Definitely gonna need to keep a handle on his heart rate here.

"Eh, what can I say, Rob was being a basic bitch again and I got bored," fake Superboy says with a dismissive shrug, which is something Jason would pistol-whip the real Superboy for saying but at least provides him a pretty solid script to go off while he waits for reinforcements to show.

He'd rather be making with the pistol-whipping, though.

[seiishindraws]

Hello hello, I'm a big fan of your art. Um, I was wondering, if it's okay to ask, where do you look to for poses to use in your art? I struggle sometimes to come up with or find poses I like, and was wondering if there's any resources you use for that kind of thing? (Hopefully that all makes sense)

i feel like i differ from a lot of artists i know irl bc they all use pinterest to look for pose reference, i personally kinda just fiddle around until a pose looks nice and only seek out reference if im having trouble nailing down the pose im trying to draw

since getting back into art school, i do like 6 hours of life drawing every week and its done a lot to help me formulate poses in my head! cannot overstate how vital life drawing is if you wanna get better at depicting the human figure in various poses, you start to become so intimately familiar with how our bodies and bend and squash and fold in different positions

i feel like the only little tip i have here is, if you're drawing a pose and something about it feels off, consider "contrapposto", which is a term used to describe the balance of weight in a figure. usually one leg will be bearing a bit more weight than the other, and the hips and torso will never be completely parallel to each other. this image kinda showcases what im talking about.

one side of the body will stretch while other squashes, and having a stretch and squash between the torso and hips usually makes for a more interesting pose, and creating an interesting rhythm between the head angle and the torso and hips can help make a pose more appealing. this is not a hard rule of course, just things that automatically run through my mind out of habit now.

here are some midna sketches i made the other day while procrastinating on assignments lol. i drew these poses without referece, they arent like super elaborate or anything but i feel like theyre pretty charming at least

THIS ISNT A VERY GOOD EXPLANATION OF THIS CONCEPT IM SORRY but basically: draw from life, study the human figure an excessive amount and you will start to grasp things pretty well !!

[haichihiro]

Keegan x reader where they r both in the military but reader isn’t a ghost so whenever they meet or are on their breaks she’s js met with a touch starved Keegan

up to you if you want to make it fluff or not!

A/N: thanks for the request lovie! also i don’t know much about this keegan guy but i see the appeal! hopefully i do him justice, enjoy <3

warnings: none? mostly fluff and a bit suggestive. a few cuss words. nothing major!

As far as you know, Keegan Russ is a scout sniper for the Ghosts. You weren’t apart of this group but you’ve heard about their many missions. You’d see Keegan around here and there but the man was known for not being very sociable with people. He’s status was very impressive, he was great during combat operations under extreme conditions.

You were intrigued to say the least. Often glancing his way when your paths crossed with his. Being close friends with Soap meant that you were associated with Ghost who was associated with Keegan. This allowed you to warm up to him a bit more, your heart began to warm up at any chance you heard him speak.

As months passed, the two of you became good acquaintances. Often saying little hellos and byes to each other. Maybe, even having a cup of coffee together in the break room. Although, there was a comfortable silence for the duration of those moments, just quiet sipping of your caffeinated drinks.

Things changed after awhile. Becoming a little more closer. Whenever he had the chance to see you, there was a difference with him. His eyes lingered on you more, he’d be the first to strike up conversations and— he’d touch you.

At first it startled you one evening. You were in the break room trying to grab your mug that was on the shelf you couldn’t reach. Cursing the person whoever did that under your breath. Suddenly you felt someone press close behind you, a hand on your hip, as they reached forward to grab the cup for you.

He quietly set it down and when you turned around you realized it was Keegan himself. Your face was flushed a bit from the sudden touch but you weren’t complaining. You did have a little crush on the soldier. All you could muster was a small ‘thank you’ before he gave you a curt nod and left.

After that the touching would become more frequent. He just had to touch you. Like he was starved all his life and maybe he was— he was starved of you. Any chance he got, he would linger small touches on you.

A steady hand on the lower of you back that would guide you to whatever destination it was. He’d fix your tactical vest for you, any straps that were on your body, he’s tighten and after he’d give you bum a small tap. That one always made you blush. Now when the two of you would have coffee together, he would sit impossibly close, his thigh pressing up against yours.

Then it got more aggressive as time went on. He would catch you alone some days, stalking you like prey before pressing his body close to yours. Face nuzzling into you neck, inhaling your scent, arms wrapping around your body, pressing his crotch right up against your ass.

“I’m sorry, darling. I just— I need you.” He would simply say and you’d give him anything he wanted.

If that meant standing close beside him when he was near, letting him give you gentle touches of affection, of want. Or if it meant that you would warm his bed, keeping him company all night, pressed close, skin to skin.

Anything, if it meant that he was yours, and you his.

[chainera]

My Thoughts on Vercury + Doodles

To be honest, my relationship with this pairing is literally a love-hate one.

When I first heard about it, I’m not going to lie, I was super turned off. This was during SolarBall’s early episodes, where Mercury was shown constantly being bullied by Venus and I could not imagine being paired with my bully if I was in a similar situation. There was no chemistry between them, and even if there was, it wouldn’t be healthy. Especially during the whole Venus’ name arc, where Mercury constantly mocked him and got an asteroid to the face. Personally, the ship made no sense to me and sounded downright toxic. But of course, the more recent episodes came out. The atmosphere (even though there’s no atmosphere in space lol) between Mercury and Venus seemed… more neutral than hostile or tense. This is mostly because Mercury started to stand up for himself. Two scenes of note is the moment where Mercury laughed at Venus’ comment during the Rocky Planets episode and when Mercury snapped at Venus during the ‘Solar System by Size’ arc. What’s interesting is that after Mercury yells at him, Venus looked regretful, which was definitely new. Mercury didn’t shout at him about the consequences of him siding with the Sun or anything like that either, he simply said that he was fine with Venus hating him ‘for the sake of everyone else’. After that, Venus didn’t immediately change his mind but did try to explain his side of things, which was also new. As of right now I still don’t see anything happening between them, but I definitely do see the appeal in the ship and the potential for it to eventually happen.

From a settings standpoint- the potential is obvious. We don’t know what happened to cause Venus to pick on Mercury so much, we don’t know what their past was like, and with the answers to those questions revealed, Mercury and Venus might reconcile. Venus clearly has a lot of problems with his conditions as being called ‘a literal hell’ by the Earthlings, and Mercury also has his own insecurities and issues with the Sun. Mercury is already learning how to deal with these things, but Venus hasn’t quite figured it out yet. I’m quite interested on how Venus will be developed and how Mercury will play a role in this. I don’t think Venus downright despises Mercury, and vice versa, but they do have a ton of shit to sort out which may lead to a hopefully happy ending. Now, from a character standpoint there’s also a ton of potential. Venus and Mercury are kind of opposites, and yknow the saying… opposites attract. It would be really sweet if Mercury could calm Venus down when he was getting too ticked off, and Venus could treat Mercury nicely in his own way. Their personalities contrast really well. I didn’t like Vercury before because I felt if it actually happened Mercury would just allow Venus to treat him like crap, but now I feel like Mercury would know how to set proper boundaries and they would be equals. In a healthy relationship, there shouldn’t be a power imbalance, so with Mercury’s character development and Venus’ potential to change and be kinder (though not necessarily gentler) power imbalance shouldn’t be a problem. Another aspect is the fact that Venus and Mercury are both quite lonely. Earth and Mars are extremely close friends (or more haha), and while Mercury does have the Sun, he’s kind of forced to walk on eggshells in that relationship. They’re also neighbor planets, so there’s that. In all, I definitely agree with the concept of Vercury, but if it should happen, it should be after Venus and Mercury at least began to try and sort everything out. Here’s some (a bit spicy) doodles as a reward for listening to my rant again :D

As always, I’m open to other people’s opinions- especially on a topic as complex as this one. I just ask that you be respectful. Thank you.

[raisedbythetv89]

excuse the ranting here but just had someone try and argue that a fully evil literally on the hunt for the Slayer (bc he’s stalking his PREY to fight and hopefully kill) Spike - finding Buffy attractive (according to an interview James gave where he talks about that moment and said he embodied the kinds of predatory men who literally are “on the hunt” for real life women in bars) as anywhere NEAR the same level of creepiness as a SOULFUL aka SUPPOSED TO BE GOOD angel stalking and falling in love at the sight of an innocent and crying 15 year old Buffy….

Anti spike/spuffy ppl always try and use that interview to make Spike out to be “just as creepy” as Angel which is always just so embarrassing to me that they don’t grasp the basic difference between one was the most evil and literally is a predator to her prey but buffy is also a predator to spike’s kind so there is even still a balance of power between them even then and he’s literally just explaining how he played the scene to get the attitude and body language right as a predator bc he understands that’s what Spike is to Buffy at that time (literally had zero clue he would ever be a love interest of Buffy’s). And the other who is not supposed to be a predator anymore…. hides his identity as a vampire AND hides the fact that he’s been watching her for over a year is still acting as a predator but instead of stalking an experienced slayer to attempt to fight and kill he is stalking a freshly called still weak and vulnerable slayer who he wants to sleep with aka corrupt.

Angel is supposed to be GOOD yet is still acting like a predator. Spike IS EVIL and so is simply acting as someone who has killed two slayers should 💀💀💀💀 the fact that soulless evil Spike and soulful “good” Angel’s behavior can be compared AT ALL is bad for angel and angel alone bc spike is supposed to be evil and treating buffy as someone he is hunting and as an opponent. Angel is supposed to be HELPING Buffy….

But regardless of all that the argument is James said Sarah is beautiful so of course he played up that angle as well so canonically Spike thinks a 16 year old Buffy is pretty and these people really don’t understand the difference between the two 😭😭

First of all I personally have heard Sarah call herself “not the prettiest” at least 10 times in 10 different interviews - how often do you think the people in her life heard her make jokes or comments about her appearance??? To me that always seemed like James just paying a compliment to his costar who doesn’t understand how literally fucking STUNNING she is by basically being like HAVE YOU SEEN HER OF COURSE MY CHARACTER THINKS SHE’S PRETTY LOOK AT HER!! James literally rizzed his way into a main character and love interest like of course he’s gonna be charming in real life by paying compliments to everyone he can every chance he gets. He had sex appeal and a dream AND IT WORKED 💀 and we also see him have chemistry with practically every person on the show that’s just who he is 😹😹😹

But I also just cannot emphasize how much of a difference there is between finding someone attractive or thinking they’re beautiful vs actually ACTING on it and ESPECIALLY acting on it when you call her friend of the same age “just a kid” and say over and over again how wrong it is and that she’s too young AND THEN DO IT ANYWAY. Like it’s a supernatural show with vampires who are 100 & 200+ years old if angel hadn’t constantly acted like her dad and treated Buffy like a kid and everything is season 3 didn’t happen there could be sooooooo much more leniency with angel and buffy’s age differences and I probably wouldn’t care bc applying irl rules to the supernatural doesn’t make a lot of sense but angel always treats her like a child and says over and over again how wrong it is and THAT is what makes it a problem within this supernatural show bc Spike never treats her like a child or like she isn’t his equal ever no matter what age she is

But unfortunately it makes sense people who like a character whose main personality trait is !catholic guilt! (when he’s got a soul) don’t understand the difference between thoughts and actions and how we should only be defining ourselves and other people by their actions. Because we are not every single thought we’ve ever had both good and bad. If you think to do good things but don’t that does not make you good and if you think to do bad things but don’t that does not make you bad.

So evil Spike thinking a beautiful Buffy dancing with her friends is hot at 16 is not even CLOSE to the same as a supposed to be good angel activity pursuing a relationship with her by breadcrumbing the absolute fuck out of her, manipulating her like crazy and lying to her about practically everything and flirting with her under false pretenses after falling in love at the sight of her looking like a child with her lollipop on the school steps at 15 and then watching her cry in the bathroom mirror as he watches her from the bushes with a smile on his face and hope in his eyes and if you don’t understand that there is literally nothing I can do or say to help you

[xanticore]

Can you do a Lars ulrich fic where the reader is part of it can you do a dominant submissive relationship kinks where Lars is dominant and the girl or whoever is a submissive also the as well smut??

Back in 1984 in the hotel room???

I hope you enjoy anon! I don't like going straight into smut so yeah..it's a bit slow in the beginning but it gets juicy. promise.

“𝐒𝐇𝐄’𝐒 𝐃𝐈𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓’’

Genre: Smut

Setting: Summer of 1984 ,, New York

Warnings: Slight usage of the daddy kink (Lars gets so surprised by it) P in V, oral f receiving, pet names, and sailor mouth from Lars.

Summary: The band had finished their recording for ride the lighting. They all agreed to celebrate by hanging out at a club- getting drunk and hopefully be able to take a girl back to a hotel. Lately Lars hasn't had great experiences with the recent groupies he was with. None of them really fit his sex appeal. That all had changed when he saw a girl smoking alone.

"You gotta be fucking with me!" I blurted out before putting the phone back on the hook. A fan that goes by 'Lola' told me I'm an asshole. Maybe she's right. Only because I couldn't take how fucking horrible she was in bed. It really wasn't that great. I felt utter boredom with that chick.

"Was that Lola?" Kirk said in a teasing tone. I just huffed and rolled my eyes. "Of course it was. apparently I wasn't making her feel good, well tough world we live in because I didn't nut myself. Now we both can't have our way." I heard the other members let out a chuckle and it only made me more ticked.

For some reason, I could never find the fun girls like the others. They always had exciting fucking stories to tell about their night. Me, sometimes I either sleep alone or try to have fun with a girl that I bring back. Nobody was into anything I was. They just laid there and took it.

Im fucking 21! and I start my sex life completely shit. It's like I'm having sex with someone's grandma. Like Gross. I want some action. More interaction at least with a girl. I just wanna have fun till I can't anymore.

"Well, We did decide to hit up a club in downtown Manhattan. Maybe you'll find your girl there~" Cliff said giving me a wink. I forgot that quick we were in New York fucking city. "Oh yeah, New Yorker girls are totally hot too. Maybe you'll find that babe you're looking for." James added on.

I was now stoked for tonight. As the youngest in the band, I wanna try and have a good time and able to tell them stories. Stories that they can possibly relate to.

After being out all day, I took a quick nap in my room so I could have some energy for the rest of the night. I wanted to at least look presentable-but then got a reality check. Its a club filled with late teenagers and early twenty year olds. I just threw on a random band shirt with some black ripped jeans and some Nikes. I sprayed some cologne observing myself in the mirror.

"Come on Lars...you got this. Totally got this. We're gonna have fun and enjoy ourselves."

I talked with myself to give me some self confidence. I was full of it. Overly optimistic. I headed down to the hotel lobby where I was the last one to arrive. We had a personal driver that drove us to the top club strip of manhattan. The city lights of the ads and neon advertisements filled the night sky. It had my eyes 'glimmering' as Kirk would say.

We decided to walk along the strip instead, thanking our driver. "We'll take a cab back~" I said reassuring the driver. I saw him nod and left the van. The night life was now and all the adults were out in their club outfits walking along the sidewalk. It really had my heart racing in anticipation on how I'll end my night. Will it be good? or bad. Find out in the next episode of Lars' questionable sex life.

"Jeez, theres so many clubs. Should we just go to a typical twenty-one plus?" Kirk asked looking carefully at the signes that were out. It was different prices of alcoholic drinks during happy hour if you joind this club or that club. "No- Lets go to The Phantom." I said pointing at the bright purple neon sign. The club had a line literally wrapped around the corner of waiting club goers to get inside.

"Uhh. do you know that the Phantom is for...big shots?" Cliff asked as if he was confused.

"Uhh?? yeah. Thats why I said we should go there. Come on, I think we're big enough of a shot to party with the top class people." I said borderline excitedly, but still kept my cool.

"Ok but, we didn't even dress the part?" Kirk and James added in unison. I just sighed.

"Who gives a shit? Like come on it's a club. its gonna be dark. No one is gonna care about what we wear. Now get your asses over there."

Surprise surprise, there were people who recognized us. We did have shows in New York but it was nothing too extravagant. We were escorted to the front, showed our IDs and were in like a blink of an eye. "I guess you're right larsy~"

I just smirked at Cliff's comment. The music was pumping through its speakers and the flashing club lights were going in random directions. Everyone, dancing; and Kirk was the first one to get dragged out onto the dance floor with a girl. Cliff and James also had a pair come up to them, making me alone.

I just chuckled awkwardly looking around for somewhere to sit. All the seats at the bar was taken so that was out the picture. I didn't really care for sitting right now but I did want a drink in hand as I danced. I ordered myself a bottle of beer, taking it with me to the dance floor. Everyone had their partners but I didn't mind dancing alone having the occasional girls come and go.

Eight songs had passed already and my beer was halfway gone. I wasn't drunk but I desperately need another one to keep me occupied when i'm alone. I pushed my way through the sweaty crowd and back to the same bar. I gestured the bartender for another bottle and gave them a five dollar bill. I scanned the room to see my band mates with girls they found. I was a bit jealous to say the least.

James had two girls on him.

Cliff sharing a smoke with some biker chick.

Kirk was full on making out with someone at a vip table.

Me...at a bar on my second beer bottle with no action. It was time to mingle. I looked around for girls but every girl I saw just reminded me of fucking Lola. All the girls were just copy paste. Just when I was about to give up an leave, I see a girl alone at one of the vip tables. She was alone smoking a cigarette and drinking her drink.

Her hair was jet black and I couldn't tell what she was wearing from where I was standing. She looked hot from a far- could she be hot upclose?

I walked up towards her table- casually passing by Kirk who was still kissing mind you. I sat my beer bottle on the table causing a reaction out of her. "May I sit here?"

I asked politely..oh and by the way- she was totally my type of girl. She gave a gesture and I got in sitting across from her. "You know VIP only right?" Fuck, her voice was deep. "Yeah. What you don't think im an important person?"

"You're from Metallica aren't you?"

"I am sweetheart."

I saw her smile when I answered. She looked so shy and I couldn't really make out what she wanted. I kinda dig it. It was something new from a girl that I just met. "Well~ are you a fan- oop...speak of the devil hmm?" I asked her and just in the nick of time, one of our songs started playing.

"I'm a huge fan actually.." She confesses; tapping the cigarette ashes in the ash tray. Just by looking at her and her body language, I could tell she wasn't a groupie. She wasn't quick to ask anything about my wealth or even anything sexual. She was a genuine fan.

She made many first moves, by that I mean questions. Given her shy and quiet nature, she asked very interesting questions about the music and what's it like being famous. I never took the time to even think to myself about these things. With every questioned asked; I answered with full potential.

Being in the vip section of the club, waiters would come and go with drinks. She would get something fruity while I only had my beer. Luckily for this spot, I didn't have to pay.

"Excuse me sweetheart, I forgot to ask you your name."

"it's (name)"

"(name)? such a pretty name you got there baby. Care to join me on the dance floor?"

I gave her a wink before getting up from the booth. I walked towards her side pulling my hand out waiting for her to grab it. Her hands are so soft and pretty. Her nails were painted in a baby blue and a mood ring on her ring finger. When stood up I was almost towered. I was able to look her up and down and oh my god, she was so beautiful. From her height, her mannerisms, her features of her face-she seemed too unreal.

I manned up and guided her towards the glowing floor. It was a different song now. When Doves Cry by Prince was playing and I could clearly see little miss was a fan of him as well. All she needed was a couple more sips of her drink and baby was good to go. I watched as she mouthed the lyrics turning her back against me. I grabbed her hips helping her keep the rhythm.

I drunk a little bit more of my beer and carelessly threw it somewhere off the floor. Both of my hands touching her. She turned back around and her face was a soft color tint. We were both slightly drunk but still was able to recognize what was going on in our surroundings. I couldn't help but lay a kiss on those pretty plump lips.

It was a real pleasure feeling her kiss back. It was expected. I let her pull away and letting her continue dancing. She was teasing me and damn it I wanted her...

So i got her

The taxi ride back to my hotel felt like it was going on for hours. I opened the door to my room, I had her back against the door. I picked her up letting her legs wrapped around my waist. Our kiss was sloppy and desperate, no order was necessary.

We struggled to get our clothes off once we made it to the bedroom. I laid her down gently before taking my shirt off and letting her take off any piece of clothing she desired. She didn't have a bra on so her chest was immediately exposed to the cold air.

My lips around her hardened nipples as my other free went along to squeeze and grope her. She hummed and I enjoyed the reaction out of her but sadly it wasn't enough to my standards. I went up to her neck licking and biting the sensitive area that didn't take me long to figure out. My hands went down to her legs opening them, helping her slide her lace panties down.

I pulled away to see her now raw, naked body. She was fucking beautiful. She even had some tattoos, and a belly peircing. Fuck. My next move was to eat her alive. I saw her exposed pussy and couldn't help but smirk how wet she was. "You're glistening babydoll" I said slowly lowering myself down. My eyes locked with hers and she was shy at the fact of how I explained how needy she was. It was so fucking cute.

I let my tongue gently rub against her clit and the moans she made was what I was looking for. I continued confidently eating her out, making sure I tasted every drop of her wetness.

Hearing her whine and her fingers getting tangled in my hair was sending me into a frenzy. My jeans getting too fucking tight to handle but I was too busy to even care. All my focuse was on her and her only. Her moans were loud and desperate. Just how I like it.

Her back arches as she pushed my head further into her and of course-i didn't mind that at all. I tongued and finger fucked her hole, letting my other fingers slowly rub against her wet folds. She tasted like sweet sugar; something I never experienced before. I could tell she was close by her breathing patterns. I stopped causing her to groan in annoyance. "I wanna have some fun too~" I cooed lifting my head up to caress her cheek.

I took off my jeans and right when I was lining up to her hole, I had no condom. Fuck, I forgot to buy some earlier. I took a deep sigh smiling at her. "You don't mind me going raw do you babydoll?"

"I don't mind~"

I grinned and slowly pushed inside her. We both let out a sigh of relief feeling each other in intimacy. "Feels good baby?"

I asked. She hummed and that was my go to-to start thrusting. I found a rhythm but didn't necessarily followed it as my pace became desperate when I started to get used to feeling her. She was a moaning mess and her whimpers only made it better. I couldn't help but go a little harder on her.

"Daddy...it feels so good-"

My heart literally did at least two somersaults. I wasn't expecting her to pull that kink card on me and fuck I liked it alot. A little too much. "Oh yeah??" I smirked. I leaned down to kiss her on her neck, biting every possible place that I haven't touched yet. I moved my hand down to rub her clit in circles wanting her to be extra stimulated.

"FUCK..Don't stop please..." She cried out. I just chuckled.

"I had no plans to darlin." I responded, reassuring her. I pulled back and had my hand around her neck choking her. She was the first girl to even let me do this. Her eyes were turning red as it was starting to water. She looked so helpless..so submissive...it turned me on so fucking much. I was nearly close.

"Im gonna...cum...."

"Me too darlin...cum for me..cum for daddy yeah?" I continued to pound into her, the room filled with the sounds of our moans and skin on skin contact. "Fuck.." I quickly pull out and start to stroke myself. I released all of my cum on her stomach just in time. I fell down right beside her as we both tried to relax after coming down from our high.

I turn over to her and saw she was already asleep. It was a perfect opportunity to clean her up and let her rest through the night with me.

The next day

I was woken up by an empty spot in the bed. I frowned but it was flipped when I saw her note on the night stand.

Thank you for last night, I had fun. Sorry I couldn't stay until you woke up though, I had to meet back up with some friends. But here's my number if you still wanna keep contact *** **** - (Name) xoxo

I couldn't believe it, she gave me her number. My heart was honestly beating against my chest hard already.

It was time to head back home and of course, the last person to arrive. The others looked pretty bummed. "Good morning everyone...why the long faces?" I asked in concern. They just sighed. "I didn't get no action, nor sleep because all I heard was you and that girl" Kirk said as he had his arms crossed.

Lars couldn't help but blush out of embarrassment at the last part, but at the same time-couldn't help but laugh. "Seems like I'm the only one that got action huh? oh boy do I have a story to tell~"

a/n : Im still getting the hang of writing smut so please be kind!!!

dividers: cr to owners

[formula-hamilton]

Little White Lie | Lewis Hamilton x reader

Summary: On your first date with Lewis you told him a small lie that you soon came to regret. Word count: 1.7k Warnings: None I think? Just an excessive amount of sport + fluff. A/n: Just a small one shot based on an idea I had after watching Lewis’ latest running story on instagram.

--

It started as an innocent lie. Just a small fabrication to make yourself appear more appealing. In hindsight, it was completely unnecessary, but you wanted to impress him. Find common ground and then he’d hopefully find you worthy of his time. Sadly, you didn’t realize just how unnecessary the lie was until it all became too much.

It was on your first date. Lewis had picked you up at your flat and taken you to a small Indian restaurant in London. A very intimate place, quite fitting for a romantic dinner for two people getting to know each other. As the waiter showed you your table, Lewis held his hand on the bottom of your back, gently following you. And as the true gentleman you had expected him to be, he pulled your chair out before sitting across from you. The conversation was a little careful in the beginning, both being nervous and a tad shy. You couldn’t help feeling a bit intimidated by him, afraid of saying the wrong thing. But as you shared a bottle of wine, your nervous demeanor slowly slipped away as the conversations got deeper and you both felt a connection growing. You remember thinking it at least felt like a third date.

Of course you touched the subject of his job and his journey in the sport. This lead to talk of his love of racing and sports in general and of course you discovered just how much he loved being active. It shouldn’t have surprised you, him being a professional athlete and everything, but still it blew your mind just how much he loved doing sports and running. That’s how you found yourself a little overwhelmed and frankly quite unable to relate. But you were scared. You were so infatuated by him that you felt scared he would find you less interesting or less compatible, and that’s when the words slipped out of your mouth before you had a chance to think them through.

“I love doing sports as well!” You found yourself gushing and before you could stop yourself you talked him through just how much of an active person you were. Truthfully you hadn’t done any serious sports since your time at university, but that didn’t sound quite as good.

--

This lie of course led to Lewis suggesting more active activates for your future dates. And unfortunately it wasn’t the sexy kind. On your fourth date he invited you to play tennis with his friend and his girlfriend. You went shopping and bought the nicest tennis fit you could find, hoping it would keep him distracted and unaware of your lack of fitness. Luckily for you, Lewis was such a good player that he didn’t notice how much you lacked in the skills department. Your team easily won and that was definitely no thanks to you. After the game Lewis slept over at your place for the first time and you could finally be physical in a way that left you way more satisfied than any sport could ever do.

Clearly Lewis found the tennis game so successful that he for the next date invited you golfing. This time you were honest with him and told him you hadn’t tried golf before. You simply couldn’t see how you could fake it as well as the tennis match. Fortunately for you, Lewis took it upon himself to teach you and you really didn’t mind him wrapping his arms around you when you had to swing.

Two hours of playing in the scorching sun and you were completely exhausted. You were sweating like crazy and your body ached in ways it had never done before. You had no idea just how physical draining golf would be and you honestly wanted to call the quits on your whole untruthfulness. As you were standing there, being a little dramatic, thinking you were possible having the worst time of your life, you complemented just how you would confess. Before you got a chance to put your thoughts into action, Lewis put his arm around you, grinning.

“I’m so happy that we can do things like these together. I think it’s such a great way to get to know each other. Much more interesting than dinner and a movie,” he said with the sweetest smile on his lips, eyes meeting yours. That’s when you saw just how much he appreciated these dates and you found yourself melting. How could you ever let him down? How could you ever tell him that dinner and a movie was your idea of a perfect date?

Therefore you went on with the golfing and hid just how difficult you found the whole situation. Naturally, you loved the time spend with Lewis. Just as you had known since the first date, you definitely had a deeper connection with him and there was no doubt in your mind that you could see this go somewhere. And even though you were really pushed out of your comfort zone, the time spend with him was much cherished.

For your next date you were quick to beat Lewis to it. This time you invited him to an art exhibition hosted by one of your old friends. It wouldn’t require quite as much energy and you really felt a need for something that wasn’t as physically draining.

The art exhibition was followed with numerous dinners, but just as many tennis matches, golf dates, cycling and your least favorite of them all: running. At least you could carry a conversation with the other sports, but that was simply impossible with running. It was always 45 minutes of pure hell each time. It got a little better with time, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to enjoy it. But you must take the bitter with the sweet and boy was everything else with Lewis sweet.

--

As the months had passed, your feelings for each other only grew. He was everything you were looking for in a man so when he asked you to be his girlfriend there was only one answer on your mind. You knew you were being silly, but as the months passed, you also grew scared of what Lewis’ reaction would be if he found out just how much you dreaded your active dates. First of all you knew it was wrong to have lied in the first place, and even more wrong to have kept it going for as long as you had. Secondly, such a big part of the time you spent together involved doing sports and quite frankly you were scared he would lose interest in you if you lost this common interest.

Once again Lewis and you found yourself on one of your runs. This time in Monaco where he had invited you for a weekend trip. Today you were struggling more than usual, the warm weather was making the whole experience very difficult for you. Your lungs were burning like never before and you felt absolutely disgusting being drenched in sweat. It was only 9 am and you would give anything to just be able to sleep in with Lewis for once instead of being out and about on your small holiday.

Just as you were trying to keep up with Lewis’ pace, you found yourself cursing your past self for even coming up with such a stupid lie just to impress someone. Even if it was Lewis Hamilton. Being completely caught up in your own thoughts, you didn’t watch your step and suddenly you felt yourself tripping on rock on the side of the trail. Your arms saved you from landing face down on the ground, but your ankle wasn’t as lucky. It hurt like hell and there was no doubt in your mind that it was strained. You knew the pain from when you strained it playing football when you were 14 years old.

“Shit, are you okay love?” Lewis rushed over and bend down to put his arm around you, worry filling his eyes.

“No!” You felt tears rushing to your eyes. Both from the pain and all the pent up frustrations. “Do I look alright? I almost fell face down on the ground and I’m pretty sure my ankle is sprained. And it’s all just because of a man! I can’t do this anymore Lewis.”

Lewis stared at you with wide eyes, looking taken aback by your words. As you uttered your last words his face dropped and sadness filled his eyes. “Do what? What do you mean? Do us?” he frantically asked you.

“No, god no, not us!” You rushed out, feeling the first tears escaping your eyes. The dam had broken and the words would not stop leaving your mouth. “I can’t do all of this running anymore. Or tennis or golf or cycling or god knows what sport. I simply can’t do it. I’m not that type of person, I would much rather just stay in and relax with you baby. Or go for dinner or the museum or a nice walk.”

“I thought you loved doing these things?” Lewis frowned at you, small pout on his lips as he looked confused by your words.

“I don’t. I’m so sorry Lewis, I lied. I wanted you to like me and I wanted to find something we had in common so you would want to keep seeing me. And then it just kept going and I didn’t know how to tell you. You were so happy that we did these things together and I didn’t want to disappoint you,” you told him with tears streaming down your face. “I understand if this means you can’t trust me. I really am so sorry I took it so far.” As you finished talking you buried you head in your hands, ashamed to look at him.  

“Baby. Baby, listen to me. I don’t care what we do. I don’t care if we lay in bed all day or if we run a marathon or if we go shopping or whatever. I just wanna spend time with you,” Lewis told you while brushing your hair with his fingers.

“Please don’t let me run a marathon,” you whispered, finally meeting his eyes. Lewis giggled and held both his hands to your face, wiping your tears away.

“I promise I won’t,” he smiled at you, giving you a small kiss on your forehead before moving to your lips. “Come on darling, let’s get you home and cleaned up. Then we’ll just watch movies all day and I’ll cook for you.”

[promptthebear]

Kissmas Day 9

Prompt: Distracting kisses from someone that are meant to stop the other person from finishing their work, and give them kisses instead

Pairing: Sandor Clegane x Reader

CW: Female reader, lots and lots of swearing (It's Sandor c'mon now), reader is pregnant, some mentions of canon typical violence. If i forget anything please let me know!

A/N: Hello! This is a little different from the last few fics I wrote. I was going for like something cozy? So the pacing is a little slower and it's sort of a "not much happens but there's vibes" kind of fic. Hopefully you all enjoy it. I just really wanted to give my boy a story where he's safe, well fed, well rested, and doesn't have shit trying to kill him for like five minutes.

It was still dark when Sandor awoke, and colder than a wight’s arse. He could see the earliest light of dawn, though, through a nearby window. Pale yellow rays were starting to kiss the tops of the large, gloomy pines that encircled your cottage, and he knew it would be several hours yet before the sun would provide any proper warmth.

Grumbling and cursing under his breath, Sandor pushed back the furred hide that served as a blanket and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He hissed when his feet touched the floor, the chill so fierce it bit at his soles, even through the two layers of woolen socks he wore. Everyone, from great Kings to common fools, knew that Winters in the North were bitterly cold. But it was one thing to hear the tavern stories and another thing all together when you were trying to live through it.

He wondered, as he tugged on his boots, why he didn’t make for the Free Cities and Dorne like the few remaining knights did when the whole world finally fell apart in flame and ruin. Yes, the stories of the fine wines and glimmering cities where even beggars could be Kings might have been exaggerated, but it couldn’t be any worse than here. At the very least, it might be nice to live somewhere your piss didn’t freeze midstream and your cock didn’t stick to your hand each time you used the privy.

Sandor turned the idea over in his mind, finding that its appeal grew with each passing moment. However, any thoughts of leaving vanished the instant he glanced over his shoulder and caught sight of your face peeking out from under the edge of the blankets. Your expression was peaceful, almost serene.

He leaned over you, his hair falling around his cheeks like a curtain, and placed a quick kiss against your temple. You stirred slightly in response, your eyelashes fluttering as a soft moan escaped your lips.

“Whassamatter?”

Sandor chuckled and reached out to deliver a gentle pat to your side before answering.

“Nothing. Gonna go cut some firewood. I’ll be back before you’re up.”

You mumbled something in reply, too faint for him to make out, before sleep’s embrace claimed you once more. He chuckled again and fondly shook his head.

At one point, nobody wanted to spend a night in his bed, not even when he'd gone to a brothel. Those girls had been too frightened of his face to give him more than a few hours at most, leaving him to wake to a cold bed and empty purse the next morning.

You, on the other hand, were comforted enough by his presence to stay through the night. You even claimed you slept more soundly when he was with you. It had taken a while before Sandor believed you, but after over a year of waking with you warm and content beside him, he was starting to see that you’d been telling the truth.

The bedroom door squeaked as it opened, which made the large, shaggy dog the two of you kept leap to its feet and growl deep in its throat. Sandor shushed the animal, which immediately bounded over from its spot by the fireplace, tongue out and tail wagging at the sight of its master.

“Stupid mutt.” Sandor said, as he began to rumple and massage the dog’s ears. “Good thing you’re loyal, or else what use would you be?”

The dog, which you’d so cleverly called Nameless because Sandor had refused to give it one, eagerly leaned into his touch and gazed up at him in squinty eyed delight. You’d found the poor beast roughly around the same time Sandor had been able to walk again, where he’d been left to die in some abandoned crofter’s hut.

At first, Sandor had wanted nothing to do with the animal. As far as he was concerned, you didn’t need another mouth to feed, what with him still half crippled and you were only able to set the most basic of rabbit snares. There had barely been enough food for the two of you, let alone a walking gut disguised as a dog.

He’s a big, black dog you’d insisted on just like your crest. If that’s not a sign from the gods, I don’t know what is.

Bugger the gods had been Sandor’s reply, but in the end, he’d yielded, if only to have some peace from your griping. Since then, Nameless had followed Sandor around like a second shadow. He’d cursed the beast and the bitch that whelped him each time he got underfoot, but eventually this gave way to begrudging acceptance and finally a quiet sort of affection.

Whoever left Nameless behind had, whether they knew it or not, forfeited a skilled hunting dog. Despite his sweet nature with people, he could catch rabbits and squirrels as skillfully as any wolf, which kept you and Sandor well stocked with meat despite the North’s unforgiving climate.

Once again, Sandor found himself questioning why he’d chosen to live in the frozen arse end of the world as he tried to open the front door. A thick layer of ice had settled over the tiny cottage you called home, a parting gift from last night’s storm.

Despite ample shoving and force, the door was refusing to cooperate. With each attempt, the aged wood groaned and creaked as though in protest, but wouldn’t budge. Though he couldn’t see it, Sandor had a feeling the damn thing had frozen shut in its frame, which was a much more common occurrence than he would’ve liked it to be. With a muttered oath, he threw his shoulder against the wood, swearing louder at the shock of pain that came after.

A thin sweat had broken out on Sandor’s brow when he finally gave himself a moment to breathe, half slumped against the bastard door and wishing agonies upon whichever fool god made ice to begin with. He stole a glance over his shoulder, hoping the racket hadn’t woken you, and was greeted with the sight of Nameless. The dog was sitting a few feet behind him and watching the entire process as though it was a Mummer’s show Sandor was putting on especially for him.

“Are you just going to look? Or are you going to be helpful for once in your sorry life?”

By way of response, Nameless rose to his feet, stood for a moment, squinted at Sandor, and then let out a quick, loud sneeze that sent forth a spray of drool and dust motes into the chilled air. Satisfied, the dog sat down again with a bump, and stared at his master. He cocked his head to one side, and spread his mouth wide in a lolling, doggy grin, as if two of them were sharing some sort of secret joke.

Sandor couldn’t help but grin back, albeit a little lopsidedly, before returning to the problem of the door. Once upon a time, he could’ve split the bloody thing in two with the heel of his boot and a well-aimed kick, but he had been a different man then. The Hound, with all his strength and rage, had died with Gregor the day they both went over the falls. Now, all that remained was Sandor, who had to huff and puff and struggle with frozen doors just like anyone else.

When the door finally gave way, it did so with a mighty crack, which shattered the morning air in a flurry of loose snow that tumbled off the roof and bits of ice that shimmered like diamond shards as they fell.

Sandor stumbled outside, shoulder first since he was mid shove when the door decided to open. Instantly, he was blinded by the sheer, sterile whiteness of fresh snow and sunbeams that cut like yellow knives after the dimness of the cottage. For a moment, he had little choice but to wait and lean against the door frame while his vision cleared.

Despite the early hour, the woods were already awake and teeming with life. Around him, Sandor could hear all manner of birdsong, as well as the chattering of squirrels and the far off call of a solitary deer.

From behind the cottage came the sounds of the sheep, small, squat, shaggy creatures with more wool than brains between their ears. They bleated mournfully from inside their little shed, hoping it would get them fed all the sooner, but their cries stirred no pity in Sandor’s heart. He could hardly stand the sight of the fool things, with their empty eyes and the way they ran in panicked, useless circles every time they were frightened.

When you’d first asked Sandor why he hated the sheep so much, he told you it was because he had no patience for anything, man or beast, that was too stupid to know how stupid it actually was. You’d laughed at that, a bright, musical sound that made warmth bloom in Sandor’s chest, but you hadn’t left the matter alone like he’d hoped.

As far as you were concerned, there was no point in wasting time hating something so pathetic and harmless and so you persisted. If Sandor was stubborn, you were twice as much, pestering him with that unfaltering cheerfulness each time you went you to feed the damn things. Eventually, he relented, the name and reason tumbling from his lips like rain after a drought.

Mycha.

From the ashes of Sandor’s rage, shame had blossomed, and with it a thin, choking vine that clenched a little tighter around his heart each time he’d thought of the boy. He’d lived what felt like a thousand different lifetimes since that fateful day by the river, and no matter how much he’d drunk, fought or fucked, he couldn’t seem to shake that one particular ghost. It was as though a small part of Mycha had always been there, slowly poisoning what little shreds of goodness Sandor had managed to grasp hold of, and for a while, he supposed that was what he deserved. Until you came along.

You, who had dragged Sandor out from the water when he was little more than a half drowned corpse. You, who had set every broken bone, stitched every wound and fed him spoonfuls of broth even when he’d cursed you after each one. With your constant, stubborn, infuriating cheerfulness, you had talked Sandor into talking, smiled him into smiling, and somehow loved him into loving you back. You had become the sun that rose and set on each day of Sandor’s life. You were what got him up in the mornings and kept him working until dusk. The thought of losing you, or worse, having you cast him aside, scared him more than dragons, others, and his cunt brother ever had.

That was why, in the end, Sandor had chosen to tell you the truth. At least then you’d hear it from him, instead of whatever exaggerated horseshit the village gossips would invent. Ugly as it was, Sandor knew honesty would be his friend in this matter, and he’d had more than his fill of liars after spending so much time in service to the Lannisters.

And so you came to know the whole sordid tale, one dreary morning in the sheep shed. He spared no detail, no matter how gruesome it was or how poorly it reflected on his character. If you were going to keep loving him, it was best you knew the sort of man you’d chosen, lest the truth curdle what little affection he’d earned.

At first, Sandor wasn’t sure how you were going to take things. He half expected you to try to brain him with the bucket of sheep’s feed, then drive him off in a hail of shrieking and chunks of dung. Tears were also a likely possibility, though you didn’t really seem the type. But learning that the man who you’d let into your home and bed had the blood of an innocent child on his hands could make anyone behave strangely.

When he’d finally got up the courage to stop staring at his boots and look into your face, you, as always, surprised him. You were smiling at him, that same warm, gentle smile that Sandor remembered from the moment he’d woken up in your arms.

I know is what you’d said. I’ve always known, and I love you anyway.

You’d reached for him after, setting aside your bucket so you could bring your hand up and caress his scarred cheek. Sandor had leaned into your touch, like it was the only thing keeping him from breaking apart into a million pieces. Of course you’d known, who in all the Seven Kingdoms hadn’t heard the stories about King Joffery’s rabid dog and the things he’d done? He should’ve given you more credit.

From there, it had been easy enough to tell you why he hated those sheep. Their cries, the sheer terror in their eyes each time he approached? They reminded him too much of that boy, and regardless of how you felt about it, he was not entirely certain he’d ever be able to forget. It was one thing to have your forgiveness and another thing entirely to be able to forgive himself.

Give it time is what you’d told him And let me worry about the sheep. You’ve got enough to do around here, anyway.

The sound of Nameless’ barking is what suddenly tugged Sandor from his memories and back into the here and now. Somehow, the dog had managed to squeeze past him without Sandor noticing, and he was now diving face first through the fresh snow, on the hunt for grouse tracks and anything else that would provide a decent chase.

Sandor watched for a moment, unable to hide the smile playing about his lips. The sight of the big dog, now sporting a healthy dusting of snow across his shoulders and muzzle, was enough to brighten anyone’s mood. He supposed, after almost starving to death on his own, the idiot creature was simply happy to be alive long enough to see another day.

The two of them would go and check Sandor’s traps later. With any luck, they’d snag a rabbit or two that you could roast for supper and have plenty of bones left for Nameless to enjoy. But, in the meantime, you wouldn’t be cooking anything if there wasn’t any wood for the fire.

It hadn’t warmed up any by the time Sandor walked to the woodshed. The snows frozen crust crunched under his feet as he walked, while his breath floated away in thick, white clouds that dampened his beard. His axe, stuck blade down in the stump a few feet away from the woodshed, was a welcome sight.

It was by no means half the weapon his greatsword had been, but Sandor found comfort in the way its worn, wooden handle fit snugly into his grasp and in its blade that thirsted for pine sap instead of blood.

Before long, the sound of logs splitting filled the air, mingling with the soft creak of trees in the wind and an occasional bark from Nameless. Sandor quickly found his rhythm, letting the weight of the axe guide his arm on the downstroke and pushing aside each long with his other hand to be stacked in the shed later.

He went on like that for a while, cut, push, another log, and do it again. The repetition of the work was soothing, almost meditative. It brought a sense of peace to Sandor the way only busy hands could.

Cut, push, new log, do it again.

It was like the axe was an extension of his arm, with the beat of his heart matching each thud of the blade and his breath moving in time as the axe swung through the air. There was most likely going to be a fresh tree fall after last night’s winds, no doubt with plenty of new wood for Sandor to haul home. It probably wouldn’t hurt to bring a length of rope and the sledge when he went hunting with Nameless later. If they didn’t catch anything, at least they wouldn’t be coming home empty-handed.

The young pine he was currently working on was halfway gone by the time you’d made an appearance. Sandor hadn’t heard you at first, too absorbed in what he was doing. It was only after you’d said his name for the third time that he’d finally stopped and turned to look at you over his shoulder, squinting at you as though he wasn’t quite sure who you were or where he was.

“What are you doing out here?”

His tone, like everything about him, was gruff. You smiled at him all the same, knowing that for Sandor, gruffness and worry were often interchangeable.

“Came to check on you. You’ve been out here for hours.”

Sandor glanced upwards and was surprised to find the sun sitting squarely above his head. A sheen of sweat had also broken out over his arms and forehead, and he could feel where it was pooling in the hollows of his back. With a sigh, he set aside his axe and removed his heavy woolen cloak, before turning back towards you.

“Have you been asleep this whole time?”

The slight tilt of his chin in your direction indicated your odd choice of garments. Born to a wilding father and shepherd’s daughter, you always swore the North in your blood kept you from ever truly feeling cold. Still, a sleeping shift, boots, and knit shawl tossed hastily about your shoulders was a questionable choice in midwinter, even for a Northern girl.

You shook your head and gestured back towards the cottage where steam had fogged up the windows.

“I started the laundry, wanted to make use of the sunlight while we still have it. I figured it didn’t make much sense to change until my other clothes were dry, and then I could wash these next.”

Sandor listened to your explanation, his face unchanging save for an arched brow. When you finished, he raised his arm and pointed back at the cottage with a thick finger.

“You should be inside, you fool, woman. You’ll freeze your tits off out here.”

You laughed before wrapping your shawl a little tighter around your shoulders and closing the space between you and Sandor with a few steps.

“If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times. I’m a Northerner. I don’t get cold. We’re not as pampered as you Southern city types.”

Sandor grumbled softly and shook his head, something about “tongue lashing harpy bitch.” There was no venom behind his words, however, only affectionate resignation. Instinctively, he brought his hand to rest on the curve of your stomach, a protective gesture towards the child you’d been carrying for the last five months. You reached up for Sandor’s face, cupping the scarred side as you usually did against the palm of your hand.

Sandor’s eyes fluttered shut in response to the touch, and for a moment, years seemed to fall away from his expression. He turned his head slightly to the side and pressed a kiss against the skin of your wrist. You loved seeing him like this, vulnerable and content. It was like a glimpse into the past, when he was young and full of hope. However, his eyes opened all too quickly, and he was back to being the Sandor you knew. Older, grumpy, and entirely done with your nonsense.

“Inside. Or I’ll sling you over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes and bring you there myself”

You rolled your eyes, knowing he’d do no such thing, not while you were pregnant, anyway.

“Fine. But I want a kiss first.”

There was more grumbling, but Sandor did as you asked, catching your mouth against his while his hands snaked down to encircle your hips. You leaned into the kiss, pressing your body as close to his as you could get while still keeping your feet on the ground. His beard was coarse against your cheeks, and he smelled faintly of the woods and sweat. The heat of him seemed to envelope you, like a familiar blanket.

You stood like that for a while, the two of you bathed in morning sunshine and kissing as though you’d never get a chance to do it again. When Sandor tried to pull away, you chased him, closing the space between your mouths by wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him downwards. This kiss was a little messier and rougher than the first, most likely due to Sandor’s surprise, but you didn’t mind. It was only when you nibbled at his bottom lip that he broke the kiss off in earnest, catching your two hands in one of his and trapping them against his chest.

“None of that. I told you, go inside.”

You stared up at Sandor and pulled your mouth into an exaggerated pout.

“One more? Please? And then I’ll go, I promise.”

Sandor swore softly under his breath and used his free hand to adjust the front of his trousers before leaning down to claim your mouth again. For a moment, it seemed as though you were going to get your way. Sandor had brought his other hand up to twine in your hair, which only served to deepen the kiss. You welcomed it eagerly, opening your lips and running your tongue against the seam of his mouth. He let out a groan in response, the hand that still held yours squeezing tight. You squirmed against him eagerly, trying to wrap one of your legs around his and haul yourself upwards, your hips seeking the friction they so desperately craved.

This, however, didn’t have the desired effect. Sandor began to laugh, and then placed his hands on your shoulders, gently pushing you back so you could no longer reclaim his mouth.

“I’m not a tree, you little minx, so stop trying to climb me. You said one more, you’ve had one more, and now you’re going to go inside or else.”

One look at Sandor’s face, and you knew there was no use in pushing your luck. With a long, suffering sigh, you stepped away, already mourning the absence of his mouth and hands on your body.

“Fine. But I better see you again before it gets dark. I’ll need to wash those clothes you’re wearing, and I’m not warming up your dinner twice.”

Sandor grunted, the noise vaguely affirmative enough that you took it as agreement. You turned to head back towards the cottage, only to stop mid step when you felt the familiar sting of an open hand strike your ass. You spun back around, your shawl spinning about your shoulders, and stared at Sandor, who grinned wolfishly back.

“That’s not fair!” you sputtered, your already pink cheeks flushing deeper.

“Nothing ever is,” came the reply.

You shook your head, turning once again to leave. Sandor let you do so without further torment, watching the way the sunlight made your hair glisten and the subtle swing of your hips as you walked. Nothing was ever fair, but sometimes things got close, even for an old dog like himself.

[slotumn]

Some notes on how I personally like to write the lords + Rhea+ Shezleth wrt sacrifices and deaths and moral dilemmas they face when they make decisions

Basically,

Edelgard: People will die because of my decisions, but it must be done in order to bring change and ensure more don’t die in the future under an unjust system

Rhea: People will die because of my decisions, but it must be done in order to maintain stability and ensure more don’t die in the future under chaos and turmoil

Dimitri: People have died because of me and my decisions, I know it’s unforgivable no matter what and I will atone for it by avenging them (feral mode)/saving as much as or more than I have killed (post-feral clarity)

Claude: People have died because of me and my decisions, but that was the best I could do in my situation, and as long as I/we stay alive thanks to that I/we still have a chance to turn things around for the better

Byleth: People dying is people dying and nobody knows if any of your decisions will be “justified” until it plays out. I’ll help you get the results that will hopefully “justify” your decisions because I love and support you, but honestly, all that shit you're saying is just cope

Shez: Cool cool, where’s my fucking money

As you can tell the main foils/contrasts I like are Rhea <–> Edelgard, Dimitri <–> Claude, and Shez+Byleth. More rambling about it under the cut

For Rhea and Edelgard, I like to focus on them being similar people at different points of life/the project they’ve dedicated their lives to. I’m sure people have already made the analysis about parallels between them, from losing their families/conquering the continent/etc etc but basically, they have very similar philosophies/attitudes/outlooks, and the difference is whether the current system and dominant ideology is what they like or not.

I think that a young Seiros, fleeing a genocide and recruiting allies in the south, would have had faced similar objections Edelgard did; Nemesis may not be the most benevolent ruler, yes, and we don’t literally believe everything his regime preaches, but at least things are manageable and stable if we play along, especially down here in the south. Do we really need to risk everything we have to go up and fight him? Your ideas hold appeal, but some of us don’t find it appealing enough to die for it.

And similarly, I think Edelgard, if she grew old enough to see her system really take root in society, would say a lot of the same things that Rhea would've liked to say, when younger generations complain; look, what we have isn’t perfect, but you really don’t want to see what it was like before, and the fact you can have these complaints at all are a testament to the system I’ve made working. And if you try to burn all this down out of youthful passion, it’s more likely that we will regress instead of progress.

For Dimitri and Claude, it’s about how they deal with guilt; on a personal level, specifically. Politically I think they’d take or dodge responsibility as is necessary lol

Dimitri is straightforward, almost too straightforward. Not great at coming up with excuses, or rather, excusing himself. His way of facing the guilt is very one on one; taking blood for blood, while he's feral. Saving life for life taken, post-feral clarity. And even then, deep down he feels like ("knows") it's will never be enough. And he takes on all that guilt head on even in places where it's not his fault, a.k.a. survivor's guilt.

Claude, meanwhile, dude is a mental gymnastic gold medalist (affectionate). It's not that he doesn't feel guilt, but I think he's very good at seemingly minimizing it, excusing it, and convincing himself that he's better off focusing on other things. As for survivor's guilt, I'm not saying Claude wouldn't ever feel it, but he'd focus on the fact he survived, rather than the guilt.

Finally, Byleth and Shez. Honestly I think they have pretty similar outlooks, it's just a matter of how they explain it lol. The role I like to give these two is reality checkers; because the lords and Rhea can have their debates about Ideology™ and The System™ and Morality™ and Responsibility™ of it all they'd like, but in the end, it's people like Shez and Byleth doing the dirty work and dying on the field for the decisions.

And when people die, the physical, material reality is that they're fucking dead. Attach causes and justifications and obligations and excuses to their corpses as you want, but at the end of the day, it is a corpse and the person is dead. That's the reality they've always lived in, and not just as a one-off incident, either; the thing they do for survival is fighting and killing. They have a "It Is What It Is" type of attitude as a baseline, because, well... it is. Doesn't mean they don't feel things about it. Doesn't mean they don't want to save people where they can. Nonetheless— they know all too well that what happens is what happens.

For this reason, I like to think that grand moralistic judgements are not their thing, no matter the route; they don't even think the lord they sided with is fundamentally more correct/better. Like, come on, when they were asked to choose a house upon arriving at Garreg Mach, they probably weren't weighing their options based on who'd be the most "objectively" "morally" correct if a war broke out between the three (+the Church).

That being said, I think they definitely have a sense of what's good. But it's not the philosophical/abstract type of good you might hear the other four get into debates about. Shez and Byleth's idea of good is, in many ways, very small and inconsequential— but grander concepts of morality can't exist without it. And I like to think that the reason why Shez and Byleth become so important to the side they picked isn't just because of their powers, but also because the constantly they remind others of those small good things.

"Good" to Shez and Byleth is having enough to eat; having warm clothes and bed to sleep in and a roof over their heads; spending time with the people they care about and seeing them safe. It's quite animalistic, in a way; interesting, considering that Agarthans belittle their enemies by calling them beasts.

But I don't think those two would be particularly affected by being called animals for that reason. "These beasts are happy— what about you?"

[drdemonprince]

thanks for your response to my question about knowing what you want. that's broadly what i've been trying to do, though dealing with long covid and being very conscious of not getting it again makes in-person stuff... tricky. i've been trying to do something nice just for myself for my birthday (in kind of a reclaiming manner, as it was a very much not good day for most of my life) and was completely blanking on the question. (i have a lot of difficulty imagining things i've never done/experienced for some reason.) guess i'll keep on taking baby steps and hopefully figure this out better sometime

It's *very* common for Autistic people to have trouble imagining themselves doing something they have never done before. I once had a HUGE meltdown at the doorsteps of a haunted house because I had no idea what the floorplan would be, when actors would be jumping out at me, how long the experience would be, or anything else to expect. I NEVER went to half of the gay clubs in town until someone I was seeing finally brought me, and I finally learned what to expect of going to a bar on my own. I truly did not conceive that public spaces were "for me" just as much as they were for anyone else. I experienced most of the world as this shadowy, forbidden world that I could not understand and did not have permission to access until pretty recently, in the grand scheme of things. And I certainly felt immensely guilty having a birthday and DARING to want to do anything for it, especially not something everybody would like.

But there is a way out of this! One of the ways is to simply try new things - there is no true self inside of us with hidden true desires and habits that we can just magically find and unlock, rather the self is an active becoming, a process of trying new things that sound appealing or that we simply wish to learn more about, and potentially becoming the type of person that does them (or, conversely, learning something about ourselves in the process if we try something and find we do not like it).

If you cannot imagine yourself experiencing joy, happiness, belonging, you can probably at least be curious about something. This was how I became a furry: I was intrigued by the idea of Furfest, and so I went. I didn't consider myself a furry when I went. I didn't put any pressure on myself to enjoy it or to belong there. I considered myself something of an anthropologist studying a cool subset of human culture when I first attending in 2018. While I was there, I also decided that trying on some antlers in the dealer's den might be interesting. It turned out I liked it, and I grew closer with other people in that community too. Eventually through repeated adventures and trials it became a thing I enjoy. Most of my hobbies and passions have evolved similarly -- I wrote a short story because I was bored, and then years later I had lots of writer friends and a career, I attended a local comedy show because I had nothing to do, and then I tried out for one, and then I was in the comedy scene.

We are what we do, and that means that who we are can always change. It can always expand and deepen. If we cannot currently access much joy or genuine passion, we can find it -- by pursuing new things and taking an interest in life, in whatever ways we can. And of course, if you are Autistic, I do recommend doing research and googling about various spaces and subcultures and social mores in advance, so you know a little bit more of what to expect, which will help the concept of going to crystalize more in your mind. But there's nothing quite like trying it!

Let me know what you decide to try as a birthday adventure for yourself. Good luck!

[suzukiblu]

is there a way to read all of "JayKon soulmates, TimKon datemates, and the wrong Superboy." in one spot? going through the tag it's all jumbled, and it's one of my favorite fics of yours

Thank you! I like that one, I'm really pleased with how it's been coming out. ❤

Honestly, there is not an "all in one place" version of it, though, so have this read-more that will fix that problem for you, friend. This is the whole WIP so far (barring, like, some out-of-order bits that have not yet been woven into the larger whole, haha).

.

There's a couple of ways to ID a soulmate, but the traditional–and usual–one is a kiss. Basically any exchange of bodily fluids will do it, of course, but most people kiss way before they get around to fucking bareback and a kiss is also definitely less likely to result in hepatitis than swapping blood with strangers. And, like, it's also more romantic and that tends to appeal to people more even when the involved soulmates aren't actually romantic. It's way easier to laugh off that one time you slipped your destined BFF tongue than it is to explain a bloodborne illness to your GP. 

So naturally, Jason finds out who his soulmate is by accidentally bleeding all over the guy in the middle of a random stupid throwdown with supervillains in San Francisco.

Also, naturally said guy is Tim's boyfriend who still justifiably hates Jason's ass for all the fucked-up shit he's done and said to Tim. 

Jason is pretty sure this would count as another reason for Superboy to hate his ass, except the one mercy in this situation is that Superboy was unconscious for their accidental blood-swap, so he at least doesn't know they're soulmates. 

The lucky bastard.

Fuck everything, Jason thinks, and then resolves to never think about it again. Which he doesn't, because even having a thought around Bruce is basically the same thing as handing the bastard a signed confession. 

It sucks, admittedly? Like, Jason's not gonna pretend it doesn't suck. He didn't ever think he'd get a coffee shop meet-cute with his soulmate, assuming he had enough of a soul left to actually have one, but he'd at least expected to get somebody who wasn't already dating the brother he's treated worst and who did not, ideally, hate his guts. 

Or who at least hated his guts in a sexy way that could result in a nice enemies-with-benefits situation to spice up his sex life and maybe hopefully one day evolve into . . . he doesn't know, frenemies-with-benefits? Or something? 

Superboy is not gonna be up for cheating on his boyfriend with said boyfriend's adoptive brother, Jason is very damn sure. For one thing, if he was, Jason wouldn't want to fuck him anyway, much less be his soulmate. Jason is a murderer and a bastard but he is also a ride or die, okay, and he doesn't give a shit what the universe says, there is no damn way that he'd accept a soulmate like that. 

Also, like, since the accidental blood-swap went down, now when they get close enough there's an empathy bond going and Jason can absolutely feel how fucking besotted Superboy is by every little thing Tim does and says and just is. 

And he can also feel how much the guy hates him. 

Jason has never had better control of his pit rage than since realizing that if Superboy ever felt it, it'd be absolutely undeniably obvious what it was and where it was coming from. 

It is fucking amazing what a desperate person can get a handle on. Like, really. 

Jason went to fucking therapy for this shit. It sucks and he hates it and he wants to burn down the whole stupid office every time, but he's still going every week because fuck forbid he lose control enough that somebody realize something is up. 

Jason's self-control is not helped by the fact that Superboy has his own anger issues, but it's not like they get all that close to each other all that often anyway. He very rarely has to worry about Superboy picking up on anything from him. Mostly he just has to worry about not being any worse to Tim than he already has been and making excuses to avoid any situation that Superboy might theoretically pop up in. He has absolutely no designs on fucking up Tim's relationship. Ever. 

He guesses he and Superboy could have a platonic bond, admittedly. Like, that's possible.

Except Superboy constantly insists on wearing a painted-on bodysuit and studded black leather and strappy belts and looking like a porn star parody of a superhero, along with regularly smirking like a cocky asshole who just so happens to be the second coming of sin, and Jason has a very difficult time not finding all of that just unspeakably hot, so that seems unlikely. 

So yeah, Jason's definitely not telling anyone that they're soulmates. Possibly ever. At least not as long as Superboy and Tim are still into each other and in undeniably perfect romantic love, anyway. 

It's not like Jason's waiting for them to break up or something, or for the probably likelier but much more upsetting option that is Tim fucking dying. He's a bastard, again, but he's not that kind of a bastard.

He really hopes this is just one of those bullshit bonds that don't actually become relevant until the involved bondmates are, like, octogenarians or whatever. Which is not something Jason would've ever expected to want from his soulmate, but Jason also did not ever expect his soulmate to turn out to be Tim's boyfriend, so yeah. Well, life's a bitch and also full of surprises. 

It's impossible to always avoid Superboy, all things considered, but Jason usually can, and thanks to Bat-training and his time with the League and just who he is as a person he's very good at keeping his emotions on lockdown when the dude's around without it actually looking like he's keeping his emotions on lockdown. Mostly he just ignores him and acts like he thinks he's irrelevant, and Superboy seems perfectly happy with that. 

But again, it's impossible to always avoid him, and they're on the same side and everything, more or less. Jason therefore can't technically bitch about the guy randomly landing in the middle of his rooftop stakeout wearing that cocky asshole smirk of his and also his painted-on bodysuit and studded black leather. 

Or he couldn't, except that it is very obviously not actually Superboy wearing all those things. For starters, Superboy never wears that smirk when he's looking at Jason.

For another thing, Jason knows his own damn soulmate when he sees him. Like, he is not actually that oblivious or stupid a person as to not recognize his own damn soulmate. 

"Hey, man," fake Superboy greets casually as his boots hit the roof. Jason runs the internal numbers on whether or not fake Superboy has real Kryptonian powers and decides better safe than sorry, then hits the panic button hidden in the collar of his jacket as he turns to fully face him, making the gesture look like an idle adjustment. 

"Robin need something?" he asks, cocking his head questioningly. Seems wisest to pretend like he's falling for this bullshit, whatever it is. Especially if Kryptonian powers are currently a concern. 

"Naw," the fake Superboy says, his smirk widening crookedly. "This one's an . . . off-the-books social call, as it were." 

"Oh, we make social calls, now?" Jason asks dryly, resisting the irrational urge to hit his panic button again. Not actually a helpful urge, that. The thing's already streaming live audio and video to Oracle and the Batcomputer to get everyone in the loop on what the problem is, that's all that matters. Extra hitting would just make it likelier that fake Superboy might notice something. 

"Maybe I just wanted to see you, Hood," fake Superboy says as his smirk turns into a wicked grin, and then steps towards Jason with very familiar and incredibly unsubtle body language that, again, has never once been directed towards him. 

Goddammit. 

Well, good thing Jason hit his panic button, because there is no damn way this is ending well. He's never actually used the thing before, it's a recent addition to his gear now that he and the Bats are actually mostly working together again, but he already appreciates said addition very, very much. 

Assuming that Bruce is packing kryptonite tonight, anyway. 

Fuck, he'd better be. 

. . . also assuming that whoever this fake Superboy is happens to be vulnerable to kryptonite. Or at least currently happens to be vulnerable to kryptonite. Jason's not sure if this is like a bodyswap situation or a more traditional possession or just a doppelganger or a shapeshifter, but who the hell even knows. Not mind control, he's pretty sure, unless it's the kind that really fucks with somebody's personality. Like, yes, that is Superboy's body language and Superboy's facial expressions and even Superboy's microexpressions, but it's just . . . not Superboy behind any of it. Like, very obviously not. 

. . . weirdly obviously, actually. Like, Jason's really feeling the uncanny valley right now. 

Ugh. 

Well, hopefully this person or thing or weird psychic projection thinks he's fucking stupid. 

"Did you now," Jason says, eyeing fake Superboy through his helmet. Schooling his expression doesn't really matter right now, except of course X-ray vision is a thing, so actually never mind, maybe it does. Again: goddammit. 

Definitely gonna need to keep a handle on his heart rate here.

"Eh, what can I say, Rob was being a basic bitch again and I got bored," fake Superboy says with a dismissive shrug, which is something Jason would pistol-whip the real Superboy for saying but at least provides him a pretty solid script to go off while he waits for reinforcements to show. 

He'd rather be making with the pistol-whipping, though. 

"'Bored', huh," he says instead because if this is somebody hitching a ride in or fully copying Superboy's body, there is no fucking way that he is coming out on top in a one-v-one with a Kryptonian hybrid. He might be able to get away, maybe, but then he'd be leaving a probably pissed-off fake Superboy with free rein on his territory and every reasonably innocent person in it. 

Yeah, that seems like a stupid idea. 

"What can I say, I like a bad boy," fake Superboy says, smirking at him again. Jason would be embarrassingly into that smirk, if not for the fact that it's not Superboy wearing it. Right now, he just wants to deck this fucker. "Don't you?" 

"I could maybe see the appeal," Jason says, though he doesn't usually. Honestly, he's more a romantic than anything else. He knows he won't ever get that, especially considering what he's done and who his soulmate is and how very, very disgustingly in love with his brother said soulmate is, but–not the point. Either way, Jason's not gonna be honest about his taste in partners with a damn fake version of his goddamn soulmate. 

"Yeah, I bet you could," fake Superboy says with a wider smirk as he steps in a little closer, all the way into Jason's personal space. All of Jason's internal alarms go off, his spine prickling in restless discomfort. 

He really, really hopes Bruce is packing kryptonite tonight. 

“We're taking bets now?” Jason snorts dubiously. Fake Superboy grins at him, and it's worse than the smirking because it's not just a suggestive come-on, it's one of the pleased looks the real Superboy would never give him. Something he saves for Tim or Steph or Dick or literally just anyone else. He's pretty sure he's seen him grin like that at Bruce, even. 

Though it admittedly does lack some of its usual effect when Jason can't feel any of the emotions behind it. 

“You can take anything you want, Hood,” fake Superboy purrs, skimming a hand up Jason's chest. If he were Superboy, this would be the part where Jason called him an asshole and asked him what the fuck he thought he was doing, except if he were Superboy he'd never actually be doing this. Superboy loves Tim. Adores him. And he's not a desperate for attention teenager anymore, much less this kind of a selfish fucking prick. 

So Jason is just stuck on this stupid fucking roof with a stupid fucking fake, and this fucking funhouse mirror is the closest he's ever getting to his own fucking soulmate. 

The wait on this damn panic button better be a short one. 

“‘Anything’, huh,” he says, folding his arms. The fake Superboy gives him another smirk and taps his fingers against the underside of Jason's jaw, just where his helmet fastens. 

The fastener clicks, and his helmet falls apart and falls right off him and into fake Superboy's hands. Jason should've left the bomb in it. 

Tactile telekinesis. Okay. So the fucker does have access to Superboy's powers, one way or another. 

Fuck. 

At least Jason wore his domino tonight. He doesn't know what this asshole actually knows, and he might be legally dead, but compromising any Bat-related identities is still not the place to start. 

“You're too damn hot to wear this clunky-ass thing all the time, you know,” fake Superboy says, turning over Jason's helmet in his hands and still smirking at him. Jason would really like to make with the pistol-whipping right now. “Real waste of a pretty face.” 

“We don't all have bulletproof skulls,” Jason says dryly, and fake Superboy laughs. 

“You'd be bulletproof if I got my hands on you,” fake Superboy points out casually, which is not actually an application of TTK Jason was aware of but does raise a lot of questions he is not going to internally explore. Ever.

“Who said you were getting your hands on me?” he says, and the fake Superboy laughs and taps his fingers against Jason’s helmet. 

“Dunno,” he says, tilting his head with a sly expression. “I wouldn’t mind it the other way around either, though.” 

Fuck his life, Jason thinks. 

“I’m on the clock here, you realize,” he says, and fake Superboy laughs again and then pulls a mock-pout. 

“C’mon, Hood. Told you, I’m bored,” he says, somehow actually managing to find the space to step in closer without quite touching him. His grin is a sharp, glittering thing. “Play hooky with me.” 

This panic button cannot possibly work fast enough, Jason thinks. 

“Fuck it, whatever,” he says, because fake Superboy is clearly not taking no for an answer here and he just needs to buy a little time for someone to get here. Hell, even if fake Superboy were taking no for an answer, he’d probably still want to keep the asshole around as opposed to letting him slip off and put on who knows who else’s face. Better to get him while they’ve got him clocked, one way or the other. “It’s been dead all night anyway. What do you want?” 

Fake Superboy’s grin widens. If he was the real one, Jason would want to bite him over that expression. Unfortunately, he’s not the real one. Again: fuck his fucking life. 

“For starters, bet I could liven things up for you,” fake Superboy purrs, and then he props Jason’s helmet on his cocked hip and braces his free hand on the bricks behind him, leaning in close with an absolutely smug “coy” expression. Jason considers biting him in the not fun way. 

Eh, no, he’d probably just break his fucking teeth. 

It’s a fucking temptation, though. 

“Yeah?” Jason drawls dubiously. “Big talk for a Super.” 

Fake Superboy snickers. 

“Yeah, they tell me I’ve got a big mouth,” he says with an obvious leer. “Wanna see?” 

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?” Jason asks, curling his lip in irritation, and fake Superboy laughs. 

And then actually kisses him, the fucking shit. 

Jason barely manages not to punch him for it. Again, he’d just break his knuckles. 

The fake Superboy sticks his tongue in Jason's mouth and Jason gets absolutely no sense of a soulmate bond, so whatever's going on, Superboy is definitely not in the driver's seat right now, or just not home at all or what the fuck ever. So yeah, that's a no on mind control and probably also possession, and definitely not the effects of red or black K. Not that the total lack of empathy bond response all this time hadn't already proven that pretty damn thoroughly, considering. 

Also, the real Superboy's always had a rep as a flirt and if nothing else definitely spends way too much time in Tim's back pocket to not be a better kisser than this by now. Seriously, Jason refuses to believe that he is not, if only for Tim's sake. This prick kisses like he barely understands the concept.

Fucking figures, Jason thinks, and crushes their mouths together. 

Fake Superboy kisses like a fucking middle schooler, and Jason is absolutely exasperated about having to put up with it. Like–it’d be one thing if it was actually Superboy kissing him like this, and if Superboy wasn’t dating his fucking brother. Then he’d probably think it was funny. Or even kind of cute, honestly, especially with how the guy preens and postures and plays it up. 

And then he’d get to teach him how to kiss better, too, and fucking relish the process. 

This, unfortunately, is not that situation. This is just some asshole wearing the face of the hottest bastard Jason knows and not doing it justice with his sub-par kissing skills.

. . . actually–“her” sub-par kissing skills, maybe? Jason actually has no fucking clue if this is a man or a woman, does he. For all he knows this is an actual middle schooler, which holy fucking Christ, is an absolutely disgusting thought. If this is some kid with shapeshifting powers who somebody coached into this, Jason is going to crack out the good ol’ bloody duffel bag and start collecting heads again. 

He’s pretty sure they’re not, at least, because they might suck at kissing but they don’t move like their body is too big or anything like that. Then again, they don’t move like their body doesn’t fit either, so their powers might be accounting for that. Or–whatever they’ve currently got going. Maybe it’s a fucking spell or maybe it is possession and the muscle memory is keeping Superboy’s body moving at least semi-normally. Again: this asshole has this act down to the microexpressions. 

It’s just so, so screamingly obviously fake all the same, though. 

Jason breaks off the kiss to bare his teeth at said fake, who grins at him all crooked and sultry-warm. Jason, again, debates the merits of breaking his knuckles on this asshole’s face. 

“You can’t kiss for shit,” Jason says bluntly, because only a fucking idiot wouldn’t notice that anyway, and fake Superboy laughs. 

“Aw, you don’t like it like Rob does?” he asks teasingly, his grin widening as he leans forward a little heavier on the arm he has against the bricks. Jason is absolutely fucking offended that fake Superboy is trying to convince him that any brother of his would ever settle for kissing that fucking mediocre, much less like it. As fucking if. “Why don’t you show me what you like, Hood? I’ll roll out the red carpet."

Jason should tase this piece of shit. Jason should <i>shoot</i> this piece of shit. Unfortunately, this still might be Superboy’s body even without him in it, and he didn’t pack kryptonite tonight either way. Assuming, again, that kryptonite would even work. 

He’s absolutely never skipping the kryptonite again, though. Not after this bullshit. He’s going full Lex Luthor and getting himself a pair of kryptonite brass knuckles, in fact. And not in blue: he’s going green. 

“You really think I wanna hear about Robin right now?” he says in the hopes the fucker will shut up a little, and fake Superboy just smirks and loops his arm around his neck, pressing fully up against him. Jason is wearing body armor, obviously, but that doesn’t make him feel particularly safe right now. The TTK alone would be an issue, even discounting Kryptonian strength. Fake Superboy could flatten him like a fucking panini with about as much effort as actually making a panini would take right now. 

So like, that’s a concern. 

“So still the jealous type, huh?” fake Superboy purrs, tilting his head a little. He’s much better at “come-hither” looks than he is at kissing, Jason can’t help noticing, which is fucking irritating. He’s also still got Jason’s helmet held against his hip. Jason is weirdly annoyed by that. “How about I just call you ‘Robin’ tonight, then?” 

Jason did so much therapy to not have this exact fucking fucked-up sexual fantasy. Just so much. 

He is definitely shooting this shithead before the night is over. 

“Try it and I’ll shoot you in the fucking dick,” he says flatly, because there’s playing along and there’s shit he just cannot truck with, and fake Superboy laughs.

“Kinky,” he says approvingly. Jason thinks longingly of kryptonite. 

He really, really hopes kryptonite works on this fucker. It’d have to, right? TTK isn’t exactly a standard-issue superpower; the fake’s got to at least have copied Superboy’s body, and that means copying his vulnerabilities. 

Hopefully. 

Of course, Jason doesn’t actually know jack shit about what’s actually going on here and narrowing it down isn’t working half as well as it could be, so . . . fuck if he actually knows if it’d work. 

He really doesn’t appreciate not being prepared in a crisis. Like–that is the literal antithesis of his entire fucking approach to life, is what it is. 

He’s going to need an extra therapy session this week, he’s pretty sure. Possibly several. Maybe he’ll just call his therapist first thing after they wrap this bullshit up, actually, assuming he survives it. That might be for the best. 

Or literally psychologically fucking necessary so he won’t snap and turn into a literal supervillain. One or the other. 

“You’re seriously overestimating my patience, Superboy,” he says flatly. The fake looks pleased, presumably because he still thinks Jason’s falling for this stupid act. 

“Don’t be such a pill,” fake Superboy says, smirking at him. The idea of pistol-whipping him sounds better and better. It’s almost definitely not gonna work, yeah, but that doesn’t mean Jason wouldn’t try it. “Why don’t you just be nice to me, and I’ll give you plenty of reasons not to be jealous tonight. Or at least don’t bore me as bad as Rob’s been, if nothing else."

Jason is going to burn down . . . mmmmmaybe all of Gotham tonight, actually. Like. Just all of it. Completely. Entirely.