#i never know what i'm doing but i have learned the hard way i need to follow the motivation where it takes me SO

[umemiyan]

𝙄𝙉 𝘽𝙀𝘼𝙐𝙏𝙄𝙁𝙐𝙇 𝘿𝙍𝙀𝘼𝙈𝙎.

𝗬𝗨𝗨𝗧𝗔 𝗢𝗞𝗞𝗢𝗧𝗦𝗨 𝗫 𝗔𝗙𝗔𝗕!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥. ⌇ 18+ only, mdni / incest / noncon somnophilia (char. receiving) / so like… kinda dom!reader if you wanna look at it like that, but it’s not really a hard dynamic in this / unprotected piv / some codependent vibes / reader has a vagina but there are no other physical or gendered descriptors / 3.2k words

notes: this was supposed to be for kinktober with the prompts incest + somnophilia, and i'm a whole month late but here we are!!! once again i have managed to have no chill and have overdone it a bit so it took me forever. but enjoy! thank you to everyone who originally voted in my kinktober polls <3 (moon dividers by cafekitsune)

He never sleeps as well as when he’s with you, and that has never been less than fact.

The dark circles under his eyes had settled in after years of strife and the both of you growing “too old” to sleep side by side, at least according to your family. It wasn’t healthy, they said. You needed to learn to respectively mature on your own, they said.

Yuuta tried. He did. Although he had been steered away from his one shining beacon of light in a world full of darkness, what sort of brother would he be if he held you back from growing into the best version of yourself? To be selfish and indulge in his childish wants and needs was a frequent guilty desire of his, but he ultimately forced himself to refrain as much as he could manage.

He never slept well after that; not unless he could find an excuse to sneak into your bed, or you sneak into his. You were a sedative every time, lulling him to sleep with the warmth of your breath and body, familiar closeness stripping the worries of the world away so that he could rest. Nothing else ever worked so perfectly, even now that you both have grown.

That’s why, after the conclusion of a family gathering, sneaking into each other’s presence was a no-brainer.

Yuuta had joined you in the guest bedroom of your childhood home to decompress after his inability to do so alone. The both of you had taken on many responsibilities throughout the day, and while he certainly enjoyed spending time with the family, a restful night alone with you was what he craved the most by the end of it. Thankfully, having felt the same way, you didn’t hesitate to raise the covers and let him slide under until you both chit-chatted yourselves to sleep.

Now, Yuuta’s arms keep you close with their gentle grip around your waist, having at some point pulled you into him until the tips of your noses are mere inches apart. You’ve fluttered out of sleep for a moment to see him resting peacefully with all the grace of an angel, wearing his slumber so effortlessly as though it never dares to evade him.

But it does, because the darkened skin beneath his eyes has made its home there for longer than you can recall, telling all who will listen that he is tormented by the absence of something. Whether it be proper brain chemistry, the responsibility to maintain a schedule, or simple peace of mind, no one knows as he never divulges, but Yuuta is haunted by lack, and not even your keen sense of sibling intuition can sniff out just what it is that he needs. Or so you believe, at least.

Although he receives the brunt of it, you can feel it too—the ache. It settles deep within every crevice to remind you of its presence whenever you dare to forget, no matter how often you seem to shove it away with success. It always rattles your bones until Yuuta smiles in your direction like the sun revealing itself from a place behind the clouds, and you are reminded of fulfillment.��

Oh, how he is your sunshine; your magnificent ray of light. It warms the cavity of your chest even as you lie here in the darkness.

Fingertips trace over the matching darkness beneath his eyes and down the slope of his nose to the outline of his pink, parted lips. He doesn’t even stir, too weighed upon by the thick blanket of sleep to pay any mind. You are delirious with awe, stricken by the heavenly beauty of the one who quells the ache. Does he know you love him so? Is he aware of the radiant beauty that compels you to draw closer like a moth to the flame?

Will he know if you lean forward to press an indulgent kiss upon his lips?

It’s a gentle peck that makes his brow twitch with unconscious curiosity. Were you privy to his dreams, you’d see that you’ve entered them, breathing life into his senses with every careful touch until his skin grows hot.

You fear you’ve woken him once his hips stir, but sleep pervades even as Yuuta’s breath seems to tickle your skin with more frequency, every quickened beat of his heart causing the more shallow rising of his lungs. You dare to press your lips to his once more, desperate for the satisfaction of his reaction, and you aren’t disappointed—Yuuta’s embrace tightens around you, breath hitching discreetly like a startled angel’s, and it’s when his hips roll forward again that the hardness pressing against your lower half becomes evident.

He dreams of your gentle kisses, of your breath gracing his skin, and he returns the favor in his mind now that he knows you’ll allow it. It will be a source of shame once he awakens, but dreams of this caliber are few and far between, something to be cherished in the moment without guilt or hesitation. As if he even has a choice.

Carefully, you hike your leg up over his hip to press yourself closer to the part of him that strains against fabric. You want to feel intertwined, strange as it might be; you want to infiltrate his mind like he does yours, sense his want and need, try and be privy to things that cannot possibly be known. But it’s so easy to be close like this, as though it were always meant to be, or always had been.

He’s warm between your hips. Real. The antidote to a deepseated loneliness and need to be with another, even if only in superficial touch. But will you settle for that?

No. You are greedy.

Yuuta, still captured in a dream, is somewhat easy to maneuver onto his back with a few gentle pushes, his body desperate to mold to yours until you are perfectly perched atop him. He slots between your thighs like he was made to be there, and you can almost feel his warm cock twitch through his pajamas beneath the new weight of your hips. The adjacent scenario in his mind grows increasingly realistic while you grow hungrier for every facet of his reaction.

Does he dream of you? Does he long for the sensation of your bodies finding harmony with one another like you do? You can’t say you haven’t imagined it yourself prior, mind drifting to the taboo when presented with his matured figure, though it still holds the same heat of familiarity from when you would curl up next to each other in your youth. It’s the ultimate combination of love and desecration that satisfies this abhorrent hunger you’ve found yourself plagued by, and even if it causes everything around you to come tumbling down, you can’t find it within yourself to care.

Yuuta’s breath hitches once more, brow furrowing as you rock yourself down against him with care. You know he deserves an undisturbed rest, even if the one he dreams of isn’t you, so you daren’t wake him now of all times. You’ll aid in his unconscious need while also indulging in your own.

You grind your hips a number of times, but the results are consequently underwhelming. The softness with which you must do it to avoid waking him is to blame, your lust being inhibited to prevent you from moving against him with the entirety of your animalistic need. 

Yuuta, however, grunts with pleasure at the friction while you selfishly yearn for more, so after diligently working the waistband of his pants to sit a few inches lower on his hips, you pull your panties to the side and press your wet cunt directly upon the bulge in his briefs.

You shiver at the contact, resisting the urge to moan out loud into the quiet air as Yuuta’s cock rubs against you through the thinnest of layers. He’s leaky and throbbing below your clit as it drags once, twice, three times over him in an establishing rhythm, fabric growing wetter with each pass you make and his gentle moans escaping with greater frequency. You bite down on the collar of your shirt to refrain from mimicking his vocalization, but upon another scan with your eyes, you recall that there are other things you could be doing with your mouth.

Yuuta’s throat is exposed as his head lolls off to the side on the pillow, and you lean down to busy yourself with reverent kisses upon the sensitive skin. Your hips stutter in their movement now that you have succumb to the distraction of sucking on his neck, but Yuuta doesn’t seem to mind—in fact, he mewls and whines so decadently in his sleep that you are compelled to make the regrettable decision of sucking until there is a mark that reveals itself once you remove your lips.

And oh, does he look gorgeous adorning it.

You pull back to admire his needy image, but Yuuta wriggles and presses his hips up unto yours, apparently dissatisfied with your absence and seeking something more, only to make you dizzy with arousal and irrational need. He doesn’t realize what he’s doing to you, but it’s guiding you down yet another path of no return. Your beautiful angel is sending you straight to the pits of hell, and he isn’t even fully aware.

(If you could know of his dreams, you’d see that he feels quite similarly about you.)

The wet mess of Yuuta’s briefs are pulled down until his aching cock can spring out and dribble a string of precum onto his lower belly. There, a trail of dark hair paints the milky skin with masculinity, and you admire the sight for a good moment before sliding your finger over his wet tip until the muscles in his stomach twitch with delight.

Yuuta is so responsive and so malleable, easy to take in his sleep now that he feels safe enough to fall into a slumber as delectable as this. You are almost stricken finally with guilt for taking advantage of such a level of trust, but even in his unconscious state, it feels as though Yuuta is pleading for you to take him back as your most cherished thing, the one you are closest with and know more of than anyone or anything else. You feel a certain beckoning towards making up for all the years you were forced to maintain an artificial distance, to pretend as though you didn’t ache for the only person who knew you so deeply and so truly.

Stifling the hunger only made it worse in the end, because now Yuuta’s cock weeps when you stroke it and slide it between your wet folds, signaling to you that this is somehow the right decision. Perhaps it’s a matter of delusion rather than truth, but sinking down onto him fills you with nothing but pure, unfettered gratification.

You don’t hesitate to make him bottom out inside you, eager to be overwhelmed by him in every way, even if it forces a whimper to spill from your lips in the process. Yuuta responds in kind as the snug fit allows a cascade of warmth to wash over him, blissfully unaware that he is now closer to you than he ever has been, and that he cries out in his sleep over it. It’s diabolical, really, but your dear brother wears pleasure so beautifully on his face that you can’t help but fall deeper into your pit of depravity.

A wet noise makes itself known amongst heavy breaths when you raise yourself up and drop back down on his length. It’s an act so indiscreet that you can only accomplish it twice more before Yuuta’s moans shift into noises with more presence, brows furrowed, body shuffling, and eyes cracking open to be met with the sight of your hips flush against his, cock constricted by the same blinding heat he felt seconds before waking up.

Eyes growing wide, his heart leaps out of his chest with a sudden surge of panic. “What are you—hah—d-doing—?1”

Yuuta is cut off by the palm of your hand slamming over his mouth to dampen the noise, his sounds of pleasure and surprise reaching a volume that makes you wary in a house in which you are not alone.

“Shh, Yuuta, shh…” you warn in a whisper, allowing him a second to process the danger of letting his voice raise too high, all while keeping your hips moving steadily against his. 

Gradually, the panicked breathing through his nose settles to something more manageable, and Yuuta’s eyes roll into the back of his skull with a muffled grunt. “Does it feel good?” you ask, and he nods his answer, having further transitioned from alarm to living out the sinking, heavenly feeling of being coupled with you in his dream. 

The morality of it all claws painfully at the back of his skull, but Yuuta is too inundated with the physical and spiritual need that has consumed you both to pay anything else much attention. He conforms to your will because it aligns so well with his own.

“Can you be quiet?”

He nods again, seeking a firm grip against your hips as you hesitantly remove your hand from his mouth. Yuuta swallows down a breath and refrains from speaking despite all the thoughts that race through his head, and you are pleased to see how receptive he is to this unthinkable act. 

It could certainly be a fawn response from a peacekeeper such as himself, but you know he is capable of putting his foot down once a certain line has been crossed. He could throw you off him in an instant if he truly felt so deeply wronged by your actions, yet he chooses to stay nestled between your thighs and buried deep in your cunt after you take him over and over, because he wants this.

Doesn’t he?

The look in his teary eyes says he does, and so do the ragged breaths, the quivering lip between his teeth to bite back a moan, the way you swear he almost aids in guiding you up and down his length…

Yuuta, for the moment, looks to be as enthralled as you are by this disastrous development, and that reaffirming image alone will accompany you every day until you have at least one foot in the grave.

He is porcelain and pristine, framed by pillows and moonlight and looking a touch too fragile as though he might break with the next slam of your hips, but you know him to be hardy after all that has tried to chip away at him throughout his short life. Yuuta’s strength in love and spirit is as strong as the pale fingers that dig into your flesh, and he has decided amidst it all to be yours for this moment; a blessing bestowed upon you that could make the gratitude utterly burst forth from your chest.

You want to spill your glee upon his lips, have him know that you are thankful for his gratuity even if this is the first and only time he will give it, so you lean down to steal him for another kiss that he returns tenfold. Yuuta’s lips are more alive in his waking state and more than happy to drink in your taste between shaking breaths, the intimacy of having your tongue slide along his lower lip twisting the tightness in his gut to where it could rupture at any moment.

There’s a muffled whimper as he chases your hips, instincts unveiled but not more so than the part of him that has yearned for this for far longer than he can even recall. Now that it has been offered to him on a silver platter, he will devour and cherish it for the feast that it is, even if he doesn’t last long enough to savor every morsel to the extent he would like.

“I want you to cum,” you breathe, leading him ever closer towards that dangerous edge as if you know what sullies his mind. To hear those words in your voice, even if in a whisper, are like the gates of an abominable heaven opening up for him. “Please.”

Yuuta is incapable of denying you for even less. A plea of such magnitude rattles his bones and nearly strips him of all free-will, commanding his body to succumb to its base desires and seek fulfillment through finishing inside you. He relinquishes control and is punched by the pleasure that follows, hiding his face against your throat and fighting to keep his moan suppressed to an acceptable volume.

His warmth takes over you from the inside in spurts, twitching out of him at your deepest point as you settle against his base and further soak the dark curls around it with your arousal. You let him ride the high until he is empty and panting, and only then do you rise up and place a finger against your clit, circling it with a grind of your hips to enhance the pleasure that had been building in your core.

Yuuta watches in awe despite the sensitivity that spurs from your walls squeezing around his used cock, but he has never been more thrilled to be utilized. It doesn’t take long for you to come crashing down to join him in the orgasmic bliss that has you collapsing against his chest with a series of bone-chilling shivers, the satisfaction greater and more incomprehensible than you could’ve imagined.

The two of you are a heap of heavy breaths and quivering muscles, staring into each other’s eyes as the reality of the situation attempts to set in. As much as it should feel repulsive and regrettable, your actions nothing less than reprehensible, your greatest fear is the selfish one of hearing Yuuta say he doesn’t love you anymore. It would be most understandable after what you’ve done, but it frightens you nonetheless.

He struggles to catch his breath and confirm that this wasn’t just a figment of his dastardly imagination. “What—”

Yuuta doesn’t get the chance to stammer out a question before you cut him off with a kiss—a kiss that is so deep and desperate it screams your despair over it possibly being the final one.

You pull back and curl into his neck with murmured remorse. “I’m sorry, Yuuta. I’m sorry.”

His heart flutters with overwhelm but is ultimately on the brink of accepting that something within finally feels actualized. Will he be damned for submitting to it? Is it an insult to his being to so willingly yield after being explicitly taken without permission? Or was it necessary for him in order to reach this point all along?

Yuuta holds no animosity in his heart regardless of whether or not it is warranted. All he carries is a deep sense of love and appreciation.

Wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace, he fully savors your closeness at last.

“Don’t be,” he says.

He’s just glad it isn’t a dream anymore.

[lexxiie]

WHEN THEIR PARTNER LOVES TO DANCE

Fandom: My hero academia Featuring: shigaraki, hawks, dabi, overhaul x fem reader

SHIGARAKI

He knows you love to dance ever since he met you, but, as you may imagine, that's not really his field of expertise. When you go to events where dancing is common, you usually stay sat. You do it because you want to, and you don't wish to leave him alone, still, he feels bad about it.

A week ago, he asked you to teach him. He said he'd like to dance at least a bit with you when necessary, which obviously had you jumping with joy.

That's what led you here. A week later, on your living room, attempting to learn the basics. This had been the funniest experience for the both of you, at this point you didn't even care if he learned or not, the dancing lessons where enough of a reward.

You laughed loud as he stumped on your foot for the third time, and he pretended to be angry. "Stop!" You yelled while pushing him away from you, however, his feet got caught with the rug and he fell over you. Both of your bodies hit the floor shortly after and minutes went by before you could stop laughing. "I'm done, I don't want to do this anymore." He said, now annoyed, but you could tell he was just embarrassed. "Does that mean you don't like practicing with me?" You asked, making the saddest face you could. He couldn't resist it. "I do! I like it, It's just that I'm really bad at this and-" You cut his desperate babbling off with a kiss. Needless to say, the dancing sessions went on for longer.

HAWKS

Oh Hawks loves dancing as well, and he's fairly decent at it, too. He actually first met you at a party to commemorate heroes. You were there because of a friend and he was one of the stars of the event.

He was talking to a couple of his friends when all of a sudden, he stopped listening to everything they were saying when the most beautiful person he'd ever seen crossed his eyes. You were dancing with your friend and you looked absolutely gorgeous, he couldn't remember the last time he had been so attracted to someone, but here you were.

He had to approach you, and he did. He introduced himself (which wasn't needed) "I saw you from afar, and I would regret it for the rest of my life if I didn't ask you to dance at least one song with me." He said this as he offered you his hand, however, you looked back at your friend who hadn't come here with anyone else. "Thank you, but I'm good here," you responded with a kind smile, but before the hero could say anything else, your friend kicked you subtly, but hard. "Ouch!" You exclaimed as you turned to her, her face begging you to go with him. "Fine, one song won't make any harm." You told the hero. His face lightened with pure joy, and you definitely did not dance just one song. If he wasn't in love with you before, he totally was by the time the party was over.

Taking this precedent into account, dancing with you brings him great memories, so he loves it as much as you do.

DABI

He's not a dancer. It's not that he's terrible at it, he can surprisingly fend for himself on that field, though he isn't great either. The thing here is that he feels a bit ridiculous when he dances, at least not in public. Unless he's having a big melodramatic moment.

In private, however... He's the kind of man who whines about everything, but he's never ever complained when you approach him to dance in the comfort of your home. He actually likes it that way, he loves having you in his arms, and he enjoys doing anything that you love. Even if he pretends he doesn't.

And he loves to pretend that he's annoyed when you dance, as you do it quite often. Just like now. Dancing all over the kitchen with a bowl full of pancakes batter on your hands. "You'll drop that." He says as he rolls his eyes at you. "Of course not! I know what I'm doing!" You respond with a big smile on your face. "Come on, don't be such a killjoy, you should join me." He looks at you like you just said the dumbest thing ever, which only encourages you to put the bowl down and force your boyfriend to dance with you. He shows resistance at first, but you win him over quite quickly. The frown he had at first, now replaced by a subtle smile. It's just so hard to say no to you.

OVERHAUL

I mean... Define dancer. He isn't great at a club, but he sure is a good dancing partner at a wedding. Slow dancing is more his thing.

He doesn't love it, but he doesn't hate it either. He feels indifferent towards dancing overall, but he does not feel indifferent towards you at all. He'll comply with whatever makes you happy.

Kai had a very busy week. Your birthday was coming and he really wanted to throw you a nice party for your closest friends to attend, the thing is, he struggles a bit to keep it simple, so what was meant to be a tiny reunion, turned into a somewhat big event. He just felt like you deserve everything he can give you.

It had been a lot of work, but he was more than happy to do it. Especially now that he had you in his arms, with a beautiful dress, and the dancing floor under your feet. "Thank you so much, Kai." You say to him before laying a kiss on his lips. "Happy birthday, love. Anything for you." He responds, as he pulls away and places a strand of hair behind your ear. He would've never imagined himself doing this for anyone else, he thinks as he turns you around. He must really love you, right?

MASTERLIST

[skvaderarts]

The Line.

Holy shit.

This fucking song has me in a death grip. I've been listening to this song on a loop for 3 days now. The line about the goddamn BLANKET?! Exquisite in the worst possible way. Fuck that blanket. That blanket has given me emotional damage and so has this song.

I accidentally found the song through a random AMV that was recommended to me, and it's RUINED MY LIFE. And then I learned the context and it got 100 TIMES WORSE. Every time I hear it it gets worse because I think even deeper about what it means. I could write a thesis paper on this shit at this point down to the key signature and the bpm. "I can't fight this time now"? Why did you have to come for my throat like this? Song's choking me harder than Viktor choked Jayce during that fight. It's perfect. Do you know how many times I've thought that in my life? I hate it. It's too real. I'm so glad for it.

I want to reach through the screen and hug Viktor so hard that his shiny new Hextech spine shatters.

I want to clamber my short butt up onto a step ladder and grab Jayce by his giant goofy but loveable shoulders and shake him and tell him it's okay. But like, talk to your boy. Just saying. Leave the laser hammer at home. You both need each other. And I need you both to be okay.

These people who don't exist have hurt me so bad because I UNDERSTAND. That pain is REAL. I feel it. This song hits me in such a real, personal way, and so do these characters. I feel like this song sat me down and put me through therapy and I came out with deep personal insight and an urge to feel better about myself.

I've been under that blanket. Spent years under it. Sometimes I still am. This song made me want to stand up, shake it off, and burn it. I just never even thought about it that way. Never even thought about that I was under it. Literally or figuratively. I've been under it so long I didn't even know it was there anymore. This song woke me up. It was just what needed in my life right now. The lyrics cut me like a knife and I can't thank them enough because all the best music does.

And I know I'm not alone. You aren't, either.

Fuck The Line. I love it. Best song I've heard in years.

Thank you Twenty One Pilots.

[rockscanfly]

@noshirdalal's cameo response to the following prompt:

Before the gang breaks apart and Arthur gets sick, what does a happy future look like to Charles? Has he ever even thought that far ahead at that point? Based off the scene in Shady Belle at the campfire when he discusses how trapped he feels in the cycle of violence that's been his life up until that point, Charles has struggled with thoughts of suicide in the past. Is there a point before the end of the epilogue where he's found hope? Charles seems the type of person to throw himself into becoming whatever the people he cares about needs in that moment. Before leaving Beecher's Hope for Canada, is there something he's wanted for himself?

Once again, Noshir blew my expectations out of the water and left me with even more questions than before. Does Charles hesitate to start a family when he hears what happened to the Marstons? Does he end up tracking down Jack, picking up yet another obligation from a fallen brother?

Does he ever find a way from under the curse he believes follows him, or does John's death and Jack's heel-turn into the life finally crush that hope out of him? Is that when Sadie re-enters his life?

I'm so grateful Noshir opened up his cameo to talk about Charles and his headcanons and I encourage everyone else to go throw questions of their own his way.

Full transcript of the video below the read more:

(/transcript start) Rocks, hi! What a beautiful question, and I’ve been thinking about my answer a lot. 

So, you’re right. I mean, Charles has had a really hard life. A really hard life. You know, the people dearest to him when he was little were either taken from him or completely failed him. And his life has been hard ever since. And I think that he’s done a lot of stuff that he’s not proud of in an effort to survive and to find his way. And violence is always kind of peering over his shoulder. You know, he can feel it there. 

But for all that, I would actually counter that the central pillar of who Charles is, like the thing that makes him who he is—is hope. 

I read somewhere once that true courage is having the worst day of your life and putting your head on the pillow and telling yourself ‘tomorrow will be better’. I think Charles has had many, many, many nights like that. 

Because I think that if he didn’t have that hope he would despair. And then I think he would surrender to the, you know. Kind of base urge to just do whatever you need to to come out on top. And I think if Charles ever felt that he’d be a terrifying dude. A terrifying guy. And I think he fights that urge every day. 

That’s really astute what you said about, kind of you know, he—he kind of takes on and fulfills whatever role it is the people around him need him to be. I think that’s very fair to say. And I think we most see that in Beecher’s Hope. 

Because, Charles’ best friend gives up his life to ensure that John has the chance at a new life. And I think when Charles learns how things went down he doesn’t even really kind of consciously register, but he just picks up that, that obligation, right? He inherits it from his friend where he fell and vows to see it through. 

And so he does, you know, he helps John build a home and a new life, right, a new start. 

Imagine everything they’ve been through, all the things they’ve done, and then having the audacity. The courage to say, you know, no, I’m not gonna. I’m not gonna let my son be a part of this cycle. I’m gonna break this chain and give him the chance to know an honest hard day’s work without ever looking over his shoulder for the law or the people that he’s wronged. 

I think Charles would do everything in his power to help John realize that life because if he can help John do that it means that its possible for him as well. And I think he leaves Beecher’s Hope fully convinced that, like. They’ve done it. If John can walk this path, like. Jack will never know a life like Charles and John and Arthur knew. What a gift. 

Charles’ father may have failed him. But in John, Charles gets to see what a father could be. And in his own way he gets to be a, a part of that. 

So I think he, he leaves Beecher’s Hope and heads to Canada thinking, you know: ‘Maybe I can do it, too. I can go somewhere where no knows me, find my people, and tomorrow will be better.’

Which is probably why it just kills me that at some point he would hear about what happened to John. 

‘Cause, I think, for all that hope Charles has a really hard time with being happy and with being at peace. I think when things are good with the gang is when Charles is most nervous, because that other shoe is gonna drop, right? That's how his life has always gone. When things go well, disaster is right around the corner. And so I, I’m sure like, when literally like when the gang is celebrating I think Charles oftentimes isn’t there because he’s off walking the perimeter or scouting around. He’s literally looking for that storm that’s coming. It's just in his nature. 

Oh, it would break his heart to know that everything Arthur did, everything he did, everything John did to keep Jack out of it—it wasn’t enough. 

(/transcript end)

[blanceyblance]

On Lance and Keith, and the water/fire and sun/moon dynamics

Saw a post talking about how Lance and Keith are actually more like the other's element and is a really interesting but I found myself disagreeing though I didn't want to argue in OPs post.

I remember there was a part that said that Keith had to mold himself for survival, and, for what I remember, Keith very much does NOT do that.

Someone who molds himself to fit better would have gone into the Garrison to become a model of a perfect cadet, instead Keith is rebellious, and is not afraid of confrontation. He challenges Iverson and fights James and doesn't care if he makes an enemy out of the rest of the other cadets. They don't like it? sucks to suck because he is that good and he knows he is good.

In that same Garrison flashback, Lance actually tells Keith that if Keith keeps messing around he will be stuck as a cargo pilot, Lance tries to follow instructions, molds himself to be a good cadet because that's what is expected for him to be a fighter pilot, only that, things don't go that way, Keith is the one becoming a fighter pilot instead.

Even in his role as Black Paladin, Keith doesn't mold himself as much as he grows into it, like a flame growing to consume space.

Keith is a very straight forward guy, and rarely if ever, tries to hide his feelings, he is very sincere in what he does and means and he does things because he thinks is the best for everyone.

Take leaving the team for the Blades, while I do think he also did it so Lance didn't have to feel left out, I think he also did it so he could go and find more about his origins and himself, making what he thought was the best decision for both the team and himself.

What i'm trying to say is that t I never got the impression that Keith was afraid of showing himself. Just like a fire that doesn't change itself to fit in one place. He can be abrasive and powerful and hurtful like a wildfire and can also be warm and comforting and protective from the harsh circumstances like a fireplace. The presentation is the same, he just needed to learn to channel it better.

And that's why I think Lance had a bone to pick with him, or at least one of the reasons.

The previous description fits Lance to a tee, he can be downright mean and bitchy when he wants but also will give you friendly words and comfort when needed. Just like water can be overpowering and traitorous like the ocean while also bringing life and cleansing.

The thing is that while Keith didn't feel the need to mold for others, Lance does it with a lot of ease.

Being either a friendly welcoming face for the aliens they encounter, an emotional support for his team, a goodball to lift spirits for his friends, or a right hand man to two different leaders.

There is a reason he was usually referred as a jack of all trades just like Blue, not the tankiest or the fastest but it will be hard to find a place he won't be able to fill.

That's also while I support the sun Keith/moon Lance dynamic.

No matter how emo or mysterious he is, Keith shines bright not caring who may end up burning on his path, he is powerful and brilliant and good luck trying to ignore that. He burns but knowing he exists gives you hope for a new day. "He is the future" just like Lance said.

While Lance is the moon, who is always the same but will take on different faces depending the situation, the fact that you can stare directly at him doesn't mean he is letting you see the full picture. He shines in the dark offering guide in hard times but also caring for his team from afar as the resident sniper. Nurturing and kind, always tied to the waters and Earth.

They are still very similar, that's why they are a duo but I still think Keith at his core is fire just like Lance's is water.

And also to spread the Sun Keith/Moon Lance agenda.

[doublejango]

Blitz watched him, his heart in his throat, but he couldn't help smiling in relief when Stolas spoke to him. Eyes seeming to brighten, tail curling happily at just the sound of Stolas's voice, Blitz shrugged. Dressed in loose old boxers and a tattered t-shirt that had been made for someone six times his size, Blitz looked a little ridiculous maybe, and he certainly looked tired, but he also looked happy.

"A little. More than I thought I would, but I was up for a while. And Stolas, it's... it's really good. To hear your voice." The room had that slightly damp warmth to it from the two of them, from the bath and the shower, from more people sleeping here than there usually were, but it was comforting. The sleep-smell of the air, their hushed voices, the fact that they were able to speak despite the pain, all of it was comforting. Moving up to his knees, Blitz scooted over closer and reached up to brush his claws feather-lightly through the fluff at the side of Stolas's facial disk. "You kind of came through for me in the biggest way last night. And it was... terrifying. Thinking you were going to be--that they were going to... that you and I would never get to... to say goodbye.

"There's a lot we probably need to say. And we can. When you're ready. But." He moved up and kissed his forehead, then pressed his own against those soft feathers. "I need you to listen to me right now, okay? Please.

"Everything's going to... I can't even imagine how it's going to feel. Except... kind of, a little. I was kicked out of my home. Everyone hated me. They didn't want me back. It had been a shitty place. Abusive. Horrible. But it was all I ever knew. So I... I get it. At least a little bit. How bad this is all going to be. And I know how hard it's gonna be to keep breathing. To want to keep breathing. But Stolas... I promise," Blitz met his eyes, if Stolas let him, "I promise, you won't be doing it alone. I'm not going to give up on you. Whatever we, whatever we are to each other, whatever happens next, it doesn't matter. Because you are my family. Okay? Already. You're my family. You don't have to, you don't have to earn that. Or do anything. You've already done everything. You're my family, and what happened to you, because of me, it's bullshit. And I'm not going to let that bullshit destroy you, okay?

"You're going to be okay. Not today, and not tomorrow. But... eventually. You're gonna be okay. But until then? If you gotta scream, or cry, or just curl up and not think or move for hours on end? I got you. I'm not gonna judge you, or reject you, or get tired of you, okay? Shit might be hard, but I need you to know this: you will always have a place here. Even if you don't feel like you deserve it. Even if you feel like you're in the way or something. You belong. And you're not getting abandoned. And I know there's--there's probably gonna be a lot of shit that'll seem new. Or like you don't... like you don't know how, or can't do it, or... but I'll teach you, okay? Whatever you need to learn, if it's shit I can teach you, I will.

"That's what I am gonna do. And what I need from you? Is your promise to keep breathing. That you'll stay alive. That you'll eat food and drink water. That you won't disappear on me, cause," Blitz's voice broke, "I can't, I can't handle it if you disappear on me again. Okay? Please. Just tell me you'll stay alive, and that you'll keep trying. And that's gonna be enough for me, okay? Cause you don't--you don't gotta have all the answers and solutions on your own. I'm gonna be at your side the whole fuckin' way, from here on out. And we can do this. Together. I promise. We can do this."

Eyes shining, voice shaking, heart feeling like it would shatter apart from the force of the love and hope blazing within it, Blitz looked into his lovers eyes, praying they would understand, praying Stolas would at least be willing to consider agreeing, that they weren't too far gone. Not yet.

Dreamscapes were an odd and fickle thing for Stolas, they always had been. There were times where they were peppered with sweetness; brimming with fond memories, bubbling like a fountain with sweet fantasies, or rumbling storms of desire. Sometimes the dreams were nightmares — and tonight his mind was a foreign land with demons of its own.

Stolas slept and though he barely moved, only making a few small rotations upon the couch, his rest was fitful. There was NOTHING. A dream that had no end and no beginning; no light, and only darkness. He could not see where he began, could not feel the air passing through is lungs, he was nowhere. He was nothing. There was no sound. The silence was deafening and suffocating, like a velvet curtain too heavy to lift. It weighed him down, down, down. Funny, how he dedicated himself to the stars and now he could not see a single light. There was only onyx shadows and the knowledge of his existence. An absence of all else; the exclusion and separation of self.

It was funny how the mind could do so much, and yet, still, it was a fragile thing. So was hope, he was finding.

But he would do it all again. And again. And again.

There was not a version of his story in which he did not protect Blitz from judgement. Although, there are a number of things he would do differently if given the chance.

Groggily, Stolas wakes in silent bursts. In and out. He grapples with reality, wishing to let himself slip away into that useless, empty slumber until he felt something, anything. . . . Or maybe it was better to feel nothing at all. But something soft in his arms is grounding. He hears the distant noise of the city beyond the walls and feels a gaze trained upon his form. Fingers stroke the small plush as his eyes lower towards it. Slowly, they track towards Blitz, floating on the query like a stray feather. Unfortunately, he thinks. But Stolas swallows the word and momentarily clutches the small horse close. He wishes it were Octavia.

What will she think now? Will she think of him at all? What if she forgets him in the hundred years that he is gone? An ache begins in his chest and with it, an icy rush. His beak clicks softly and Stolas closes both eyes. In and out. He breathes, attempting to ease the anxiety that threatened to overwhelm him. Only when he knows he can maintain his composure without choking, desperate for air, does he reply.

❝ Yes. Did you. . . . Did you sleep at all? ❞

Blitz. Blitz who gave him a home after nearly destroying everything he had. Not by his own direct doing, but all because of that fucking book. His Grimoire. Feathers ruffle gently, low trill sounding in meek frustration with himself.

Now he was imposing. With nowhere else to go, Stolas let Blitz bring him to his home. The now ex-prince could not return to the Goetia mansion, lost connection with his daughter, and had his magic stripped. What was he now? He was no one. But Blitz was everything. And a flood of relief ebbs against the sharp and jagged edges of the previous night's events. Everyone was safe; everyone was alive. That was enough for him.

[taeyungie]

😺

[01tsubomi]

i'm taking the jlpt this sunday and had a stress dream last night abt it bc it sort of snuck up on me and now it's kind of a question of how much my actual japanese abilities will carry me (versus if i should've been cramming on flashcards this past month) but the listening portion is far simpler conversation than my coworkers and i have so. i think that maybe instead of "damn i should've been studying japanese" my perspective should just be "i speak japanese"

[streetdumpster]

I think (as much as I annoyingly complain and whine about not having a partner) being single this long has been good for me. I'm learning a lot about myself and I'm learning why I was a shit person, and through finding the root of the problem I can kind of... start to heal. I can be nicer to myself so I can grow and get better. Because TBH.. being mean and cruel to yourself doesn't make you become a better person. It just makes you believe that thats what you /are,/ and thats what you /always will be,/ as opposed to realizing that you are a product of your circumstances but that does not mean you can't get better and become a better person. Accepting help and trying to get better so you can eventually love yourself – even if no one else does – is the greatest and loveliest thing you can do for yourself. You deserve that love, you exist and you live and you feel and that is a truly beautiful gift.

[coffeebanana]

love how i was like "ladrien roommates is my easy fic. i won't even have an outline HA!"

the no-outline-thing lasted all of one chapter and months later i'm rewriting the whole outline because i can't just write without thinking about tension and stakes and structure and aksjdbkfsjbfd it's both a blessing and a curse

...let's not think about the final chapter count though

[astrxealis]

sometimes i think of scenarios in my head with my ocs and then sometimes for happy brain i kinda crossover them with my favorite medias atm and also insert myself in bcs i like being self-indulgent and yeah my brain is so fucked up that i just keep repeating the same first bits and can't get far in thinking and i end up just having my s/i ramble my thoughts and it's hard to explain but yeah but anyways it's interesting thinking about who or what my ocs would like in video games or colors or whatever because all my ocs seem to reflect a certain part of me and i can get into the psychology of that but also its hard to explain my thoughts but also anyways yeah i find it interesting thinking about who my ocs would kin

[snekdood]

i worry a lot about some transfems and its not me trying to be like "im better than you" or some shit its bc some of them remind me of me when i was a kid and new into being considered a girl/woman and being really naive thinking people would treat me better than they would- like i knew people were gonna be shitty but i wasnt prepared for the sheer amount of dehumanization and being reduced to just a sex object... idk... I just want some of you out there to be careful...

[badcountryofficial]

I'm so lucky I realized all I did after my first long term relationship and not like...multiple in

[omgthatdress]

Sooooo ummmmmmm this is something that's probably going to piss a lot of people off, but I feel like I really need to say it.

If you get a message from an account claiming to be a Palestinian fundraiser, it is a bot. It is a scam. You need to report & delete the message and encourage others to do the same.

I know because I get messages on this account DAILY. I have a very high follower count and I'm pretty active and I interact with my followers a lot, and apparently that all adds up to one big bot magnet.

Bots following and messaging this account was a MASSIVE problem before Tumblr fixed its new account policies. I used to spend literally hours blocking and reporting the hundreds of bots that I would get following me each day.

I learned a lot about bots and how to identify them. The easiest way is with no avatar, "untitled" in the blog description (BTW if your avatar is still set to default PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD change it because you run a substantial risk of being accidentally blocked & reported as a bot).

One of the dead give aways of a bot was what I call "word salad" names. Three seemingly random words strung together making no sense, always adjective, adjective or noun, noun. If you reported a lot of these bots, you'd notice the same words kept showing up.

Nowadays, I am bombarded with fundraiser requests and sometimes, they don't even bother to hide the fact that they're a bot. The avatar is default, the blog title is "untitled," and the blog name is a classic randomly-generated word salad.

However MOST of the requests I get come from at least semi-legit looking accounts. There are pictures, a name, a story. Never mind that I've gotten that message three times from different accounts.

Sometimes, they claim to be vetted, but the whole vetting system essentially adds up to "trust me bro." There is no way of guaranteeing that this account isn't just lying about being vetted, claiming to be vetted by a false person, or are using the identity of a real Palestinian to scam people.

Previously, I've seen a lot of people getting attacked for raising questions about these fundraisers and getting attacked for being racist or for harming Palestinian families in danger, like Tumblr isn't a website famous for its scams and the words "The Arkh Project" "All or Nothing" or "Miss Officer and Mr. Truffles" mean nothing to you.

I personally have been scammed by people claiming to be charities on Tumblr before, specifically, The Leelah Project which used the name of a trans teenager who died by suicide to swindle people out of their money.

Luckily, there are actual, respected charities out there you can give money to if you want to help the cause:

Palestinian Children's Relief Fund

Palestine Red Crescent Society

United Nations Relief Works Agency

Islamic Relief

World Central Kitchen

Médecins Sans Frontièrs

One of the hardest things to accept about the situation in Palestine is that realistically, there is very little that your average outsider can do to change it. However, these large, well-respected and trustworthy charities are out there doing the hard work to keep people alive, and should be where the donation money is going

These scam bots feed on people's naïvety and need to believe that they are making a difference, and even worse, feed on the fear that by ignoring them, it somehow makes you a racist doing direct harm to a refugee family, when in fact they are using the suffering of Palestinians to take away money from those in need.

As far as fundraisers that don't send out random asks for donations, I honestly don't know. You'll have to do the work yourself and approach with much caution.

Be careful out there.

[teaboot]

On of the less intuitive things about love, I've found, of any kind, is the importance of needing things.

I didn't realize it until recently, but I've always seen love as something requiring sacrifice, selflessness, patience, and generosity- to ask for nothing is to be the best person I can be, small and quiet and never in the way, always happy and helpful, self-sufficient and present when desired.

It's only as an adult, now, that I'm beginning to see the selfishness of wanting nothing.

I cut my friend's hair in my kitchen the other day. They wanted a trim and I had the skills, so I offered, and was genuinely excited when they stopped hesitating over "bothering me" and took me up on it. It was a peaceful afternoon, and we had tea and chatted for an hour or more.

My brother and I shared popcorn at the movies a while ago. When I came time to pay, I pulled my card out like a wild western sheriff and slapped it on the machine before he could fight me for it first. The satisfaction was delightful.

Someone called me crying on the phone the other day. Kept apologizing for disturbing me at work, talking about how they were bothering me on my lunch break. I was telling the truth when I told them that really, I was flattered and honored and relieved, knowing that if they were hurting I would know, that I didn't have to worry in silence. It felt good to hear them slowly come down, and to know that they knew it would be better soon, and to hear them laugh wetly on the other end. We're getting together for a visit next week.

It's hard to need things, if you've trained yourself not to. It's hard to want things, when you don't know how to want anymore. Trusting people is difficult, and so is relying on them, but I don't know where I'd be without the people who rely on me.

I've heard a lot of people say, "Nobody will love you unless you love yourself". I've had a lot of thoughts about it. It's not right, but it's not wrong, either, I think.

"Nobody will love you unless you love yourself"... I've always taken that to mean, "You will not be lovable until you develop a positive view of yourself as a person".

Now, I think it's sort of inside-out.

"Nobody will love you unless you love yourself"... because nobody can show their love to you in a way that you can accept until you treat yourself kindly, and learn what you need, and what you want, and how to ask for it, and then give that vulnerability away.

Love, for me, is someone I ask for a ride to the airport. Whether they end up doing this or not is irrelevant.

It's not needy, or selfish, or taking up energy. It's giving the gift of being wanted, and needed, and thought of. It's giving someone the security of being part of someone's life.

[bazelgeuce]

I can't sleep :(

Rant in tags it's long