#AN ACCEPTABLE SOFT]

[themilfking]

I really, really need some of you to understand that while ideologically, the Democratic Party might not a monolith (right leaning centrists to progressives exist within the same party). As an institution, the Democratic Party absolutely does function as a monolith. Whether it’s internal party discipline, donor influence, electoral strategy, or leadership pressure, there are mechanisms in place that discourage dissent and keep members in line.

A perfect example? Out of 200+ House Democrats, only 14 (less than 10%) signed a letter demanding the release of Mahmoud Khalil—despite overwhelming calls from their constituents, despite the clear danger of this moment, despite knowing full well what their base is asking of them. That’s not necessarily because the other 190+ personally oppose it; but it’s def because the institutional weight of the party makes it incredibly difficult to break from leadership without facing political and financial consequences.

And yet, when people criticize this clear failure, when they rightfully demand that their representatives reflect the values they were elected on, they’re met with accusations of “helping Republicans.” That logic is not just fucking stupid—it’s actively harmful to democracy. Holding elected officials accountable is not party disloyalty - it’s literally what voters are supposed to do. It is the most basic function of political engagement. It's literally how the window gets moved!

The Democratic Party isn’t entitled to unwavering support. People criticize because they expect better, because they believe change is possible. Silence and complacency don’t strengthen the party—pressure does. Every major policy shift (labor laws, LGBTQ+ rights, civil rights etc)in this country happened because people refused to shut up and fall in line.

So no, calling out Democrats for failing their base is not "helping Republicans." What actually helps Republicans? Democrats validating GOP narratives by condemning student protesters. Democrats failing to take bold stances. Democrats making themselves indistinguishable from the people they claim to oppose.

I just wish some of you would shut the fuck up about how people approach pushing the window left so maybe we can have more than 10% of house Dems representing us.

[reinbouxsworld]

chapter 7 doodles + a quick thought of levan?

[akindplace]

Having a soft heart is not a shameful thing. Being earnest about what you love isn’t either. Sometimes it feels tiring to care when so many people in the world act like nothing moves them. But it doesn’t mean you should become uncaring only to seem stronger, because allowing yourself to be moved, to love, to be sensitive and soft is a brave thing, especially in a world that often seems so cruel. Remember to treat yourself with that same softness, that same care. It’s not a shameful thing to be vulnerable, to be seen.

[idyllicbby]

Mel Medarda they could never make me hate you

[natalievoncatte]

“Lena?”

“What are you doing here?” Lena said, on the other side of the phone line.

Kara was already moving, lunging for the window, shedding her civilian clothes so fast she blurred into a streak of red and blue, the phone still mid-fall from where her hand had held it to her ear to the osprey cushion. She wasn’t thinking when she rattled windows with her passage. Less than a second later, the air snapped taught around her and burst with the cracking fury of a sonic boom as she bolted across the city in a ballistic arc that took her from her apartment to the upper floor penthouse office at L-Corp.

She was still too slow.

Lena was calling her name, her own phone flying from her hand into space as two men manhandled her over the railing into open air, almost six hundred feet up. Kara watched it happen in agonizing, hateful detail. She could hear every thudding panicked contraction of Lena’s heart even as she could count ever stitch in the side-seam of her dress.

Faster. Faster faster faster faster.

Any faster and she’d ignite the atmosphere around here.

Lena was perpetually falling, reaching up in a futile attempt to grasp the sky. Those thumping heartbeats came slow to Kara’s ears as she focused herself, time around her slowing to match her speed.

She has to do this perfectly. Hit Lena too fast and she’d kill her. Lena’s screamed stretched into a shrill endless peel as she fell, raw terror contorting her features.

Kara dove, slowing as she reached those last few millimeters of distance, forcing herself to match Lena’s speed, dipping under her so that the bewildered woman dropped into her arms and they further slowed together, Kara coming to a stop midair, half way down the length of her fall. Kara bundled Lena into her arms even as Lena clutched her in desperate fear, grasping and clutching at her in desperate fear. A wail of agonized terror exploded from Lena’s lips against Kara’s throat, followed by a taut cry of anguished relief.

“I have you,” Lena murmured. “You’re okay, I have you.”

Lena was shaking.

“They th-threw me off the balcony!”

They.

They.

Kara rose, cradling a treasure in her arms. They should have known better, these two thugs, these goons. To show her contempt, she blew them off their feet with a gust of air from her lungs. Tenderly, she placed Lena on her bare feet -her shoes had gone flying when she was tossed- and turned to her attackers.

One pulled a gun, the other ran. She crushed the crude little human weapon, so infuriatingly primitive and barbaric, almost forgetting not to pulp the wielder’s hand. As the other ran, she hooked her fingers in his collar and yanked, pulling him right back and over the railing. His scream satisfied something hateful within her and she wanted to stop herself from seizing his ankle, but she didn’t. The weight of the crest on her chest was too much to bear it.

She did let him dangle though, begging her for mercy.

Kara jabbed the comms in her ear and barked orders to the DEO agent that answered her. It wasn’t ten minutes later that half a dozen agents, led by Alex herself, were dragging the two men out of Lena’a office.

Lena herself was standing on the balcony still, shivering in the late night chill. Kara pointedly ignore the way Alex stared at them both as Kara unclasped her cape from her shoulders and threw the heavy cloth around Lena, bundling her up in it.

Oh Rao, her poor feet on the concrete.

Kara didn’t think. She picked Lena up again and carried her inside. Lena didn’t protest or even speak, as delicate as a precious baby bird in Kara’s arms.

“We can… we can deal with statements later,” said Alex. “I’ll step out.”

They were alone.

Lena just stared for a moment, as Kara opened the drawer in the coffee table and took out the fleece blanket that Lena kept there for naps or those frequent nights when she just didn’t go home, unable or unwilling to abandon her work for such pedestrian things as sleep, or her own health. Kara spread it across her, covering her feet. She just didn’t want her to be cold.

Kneeling beside the couch, Kara stroked a loose lock of wind-ruffled hair back from Lena’s eyes, forgetting herself, forgetting that she was the Super and not the Girl, right now. She couldn’t help it. The Super was stoic, unruffled, full of bravado. The Girl wanted to fucking cry and scream in agony and blessed release.

She was okay. Kara made it. Lena was okay.

Lena was staring at her.

“How did you know I was in trouble?”

The way she said it, it almost wasn’t a question. It sounded flat, half an accusation.

“I was with Kara Danvers,” Kara was about to say, but the answer died on her lips, the lie too bitter to cross her tongue.

She was so sick of lying, and the reasons why she lied all seemed so… hollow, here, now, and Lena wasn’t stupid. It was halfway there, Kara realized. She could see it in Lena’s bewildered, quivering expression. The thought was there, half formed, and once the suspicion was formed, it was only a matter of time. Their friendship was built on pillars of sand and the tide was rolling in right now.

“It’s me, Lena,” Kara whispered.

Lena’s eyes widened, as her nostrils briefly flared. Lena did not ask her to clarify, or explain. Her penetrating gaze merely searched, drinking in the details of Kara’s face in a way that made her feel both seen in a warm and comforting way and horribly exposed, the chill wind from the balcony door at her back. Yet the gaze was open, permissive. Kara noticed that one of her eyes was a little more blue than the other.

Rao, Lena was so pretty. She was beautiful, yes, in the austere almost untouchable way of a young powerful woman who weaponizes her looks, but that part of her was gone now, replaced by something open and vulnerable and soft, and usually reserved for Kara, not Supergirl.

Kara sat down in front of her, crossing her legs. She wanted to reach out and sooth the trembling she saw, her hand twitching of its own accord. Lena pulled the red fabric of her cape up and tucked it under her chin, making herself small.

“It’s you.”

“Yeah.”

“You caught me.”

“I always will.”

Lena closed her eyes. “I’m tired of falling. God I’m so tired of it, I just want him to leave me alone.”

Anger flashes in Kara’s chest, sending a jolt of heat up her spine as the red-sun fire burned within her, begging for release. She kept her eyes tightly shut.

A soft cry opened them again. Lena was crying silently in the manner of one used to hiding it, her chest hitching as she held it back.

“If it weren’t for you I’d be dead, Kara.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

Something tightened inside her, clutching so hard she could barely breathe. Watching Lena fall had been like… like looking over her shoulder and seeing the green flash. Kara had pinched her eyes shut and turned away, not watching the blast, screaming in agony when the blast wave tossed her pod, too afraid to watch her world die, unable to escape it. Sometimes that feeling would wash over her and tear her from the embrace of a dreamless sleep and she’d scream.

A soft, cool hand brushed her cheek. Lena reached out from the blanket and pushed away the errant tear. Kara couldn’t help herself, and returned the gesture. Lena’s skin was so delightfully soft, and whenever Kara touched her, felt her, it gave air to something like hot coals in her belly, and they’d threaten to become an unbound flame.

Something was happening here and she wasn’t sure what it was, but it was important. Kara had a sudden sense that this moment was a real one, an important one, and that she had just started bumbling through a choice that needed her full attention.

Lena was watching her, her soft intelligent eyes darting. Her breathing had calmed but she was agitated, heartbeat too fast, heat bloom crawling across her skin as her face flushed. A deep, powerful part of Kara woke up at the sight of it, something that she would normally have disdained had she remained on Krypton, a part of her that she might even have hated.

Her hand was still resting gently on Lena’s cheek. Lena met her gaze and shifted slightly, pressing a touch harder against Kara’s palm. It was an acknowledgement. It felt permissive, inviting. Lena tilted her expressions slightly and looked at Kara through her lashes.

She was scared, Kara realized. Scared but perhaps hopeful. Things began to swirl in her head. She could drown in the heady scent of an office full of flowers.

“You just keep saving me,” Lena said.

Kara rose to her knees so she could lean in, arching over her. This need, this impulse, gripped it like a firm hand on the back of her neck. It felt so wrong, so human, so Terran, but she didn’t care. For the first time she felt like doing this because she wanted it, not to make herself feel human or soothe some itch.

She hesitated every moment but Lena’s gaze remained fixed, a faint smile curling her lips as Kara drew closer, sliding an arm under her shoulders, very carefully pulling her up.

“I thought you were hopeless after the thing with the flowers,” Lena whispered. “Or maybe just regrettably straight.”

Kara wanted this to be right. She nuzzled her nose against Lena’s, one last tiny little request, and murmured, “is this okay?”

In response, Lena closed the gap and their lips met. Kara hadn’t felt like this since the first time she stepped off the ground into the open air. This was better than flying. Lena’s kiss was just so her, at once brash and hesitant, a question phrased as a declaration.

Before long Kara was holding her.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you. I won’t.”

Lena released herself; there was no other way to describe it. It was like their past hugs but more, Lena embracing Kara as though she’d like to be absorbed by her.

“I know.”

In the morning she’d pay Lex a visit. She’d talk to Alex and J’onn, make it clear that if the DEO wanted a Kryptonian on speed dial, it was time to make her priorities their priorities, and the first thing she was going to do was tear Cadmus out of their hiding places by the root.

It wouldn’t be enough to just hobble their operations, she wanted them gone. Supergirl would work in tandem with the Kara Danvers until Lex Luthor had no friends, no allies, no resources. Even the prison guard who smuggled him his caviar would learn that any largesse towards his prisoner would summon a furious Kryptonian.

She would call in every favor, seek every ally, use every resource.

Right now none of that mattered. Lena was safe, and she was in Kara’s arms.

[pipsqueaky-toy]

concept: making this ur pov?

[aventurineswife]

In the quiet, galactic space of the Astral Express’s observation room, you find Dan Heng standing alone, his form ethereal and strong, back turned to you. In his Vidyadhara form, he appears almost otherworldly—a being of dragon heritage with sharp features, midnight-black hair that fades to teal, and curled horns casting shadows on the walls. His clothes, a blend of warrior regalia and quiet elegance, reflect both his heritage and his inner conflict.

You hesitate at the doorway, admiring the serene yet guarded figure before you. He knows you’re there—Dan Heng is never unaware—but he says nothing, his gaze fixed on the stars beyond the glass. In the silence, the space between you feels almost sacred, as if speaking would shatter it.

Taking a deep breath, you step forward, daring to approach him. “Dan Heng?” you say softly.

He glances at you, eyes a striking, vivid green that glow faintly in the dim light. For a moment, his gaze flickers with emotion—something raw, buried deep within. But he holds it back, as he always does, his face returning to the composed expression you know so well. “You should be resting.” he murmurs, though there’s no admonishment in his tone.

You can’t help but give a small smile. “I couldn’t sleep. And… it seemed like you could use the company.”

For a moment, he says nothing, but his silence is answer enough. Slowly, he nods, turning his face back to the galaxy. Encouraged, you come closer, standing beside him as the two of you gaze out into the void. His presence is calming, yet electric; you can feel the restrained power within him, the weight of his lineage and the memories he hides.

“You don’t talk about it much.” you say quietly, unsure if he’ll answer.

He tenses slightly, but doesn’t move away. “There isn’t much to tell.” he replies, though you sense the reluctance in his words.

“Even if it’s just with me?” you ask, heart pounding as you reach out to him, your fingers brushing against his hand.

For a moment, he remains still, as if deciding whether to let you closer. But then, slowly, he turns to face you fully, his hand slipping into yours. His eyes are intense, searching your face for something, perhaps reassurance or understanding. It’s as though he’s teetering on the edge of something—vulnerability, maybe, or trust.

“Being here, with you…” he murmurs, voice low and filled with an emotion he can’t quite conceal, “makes me wonder if there’s a part of myself that I could share, that isn’t… tainted by the past.”

His words stir something deep inside you, a mixture of empathy and a need to bridge the chasm he keeps between himself and everyone else. You reach up, your fingers lightly tracing his cheek, his skin warm beneath your touch. “You’re not defined by what’s happened. You’re allowed to want more. To want someone.”

Dan Heng’s eyes search yours, his breathing shallow as he lets your words sink in. Then, his hand lifts, his fingers ghosting over yours as he draws you closer. His forehead rests against yours, a sigh slipping past his lips, as if he’s finally allowing himself to let down his guard.

The moment stretches, filled with a quiet tension. Then, his lips meet yours, soft at first, cautious. But as you press closer, a new urgency fills the air, the kiss deepening as he lets go of his restraint, just for you. His hand slides up to cradle the back of your neck, his fingers gentle yet firm, drawing you in as his lips part, inviting you further.

It’s then that you feel it—a faint, unfamiliar sensation against your tongue. You realize it’s his split Vidyadhara tongue, a delicate, serpent-like touch that’s both unfamiliar and thrilling. A shiver races down your spine as he explores, his breaths growing unsteady. The unique feel of his split tongue intertwining with yours is mesmerizing, an intimate act that seems to bare the quiet vulnerability he keeps hidden from everyone.

Dan Heng’s hands settle at your waist, his hold tightening as he pulls you flush against him. Each movement is tender, filled with a longing he rarely lets himself indulge. His lips trace yours, slow and deliberate, as though memorizing the shape, the feel of you. His breath mingles with yours, each exhale carrying the unspoken desire he’s kept buried.

For a moment, he breaks the kiss, his forehead resting against yours once more. His vivid green eyes meet yours, softened by an emotion that words can’t quite capture.

“You make me feel…” he murmurs, voice barely audible. He trails off, as though he can’t bring himself to finish, but his expression says enough. In his gaze, you see it all—years of solitude, of battles fought and regrets carried, all melting into the gentle warmth he shares with you now.

His lips find yours again, this time with a sense of urgency, an unspoken promise. His split tongue brushes against yours once more, sending a thrill through your senses as he pulls you closer, his hands sliding down your back, grounding you against him.

In that moment, the walls he’s built around himself crumble just a little more. Dan Heng, the stoic guardian, allows himself to be vulnerable, to be human, if only with you. And as he holds you, lost in the quiet intimacy of the moment, you realize just how deeply he feels for you, even if he may never find the words to say it.

[rorydrawsandwrites]

So we've all been having fun giving him bug wings right

(I gotta mention that this post in particular inspired me here... they're so little. His ass is not flying anywhere unless he's thrown)

And I do see the logic here. He has the li'l antennae after all (and him being a lightning bug would be especially fitting). But I'd like to point out that as a Fleischer-esque mix-and-match creature, he does also have a pig nose... therefore I suggest:

Pig. Hoofs.

I rest my case.

Also a little bonus... the touch-starved Luxposting has gotten to me. Pet the creature

[nonebinary-leftbeef]

His ass would NOT list five things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste

[astrobolical]

Okay.

As much as I love feral Satan, who lets his instincts run wild and growls, bites and everything else… his soft side is so fuckin’ cute.

The Satan that stares at you in confusion as you tend to a small cut on his hand he’d received on one of his rampages, unbothered by the mess around the two of you and concerned solely with him. How he doesn’t quite know why his chest feels so warm and tight as he looks at your gentle, concerned expression.

Satan, who doesn’t understand why he feels so weightless with you, why his heart flutters and why he wants to hold you so gently, as if cradling something precious.

Satan, whose anger fades just from your presence alone, overtaken with feelings he’s never experienced, that baffle him entirely but he can’t get enough.

Satan, who desperately throws himself into research just to understand you a little more, to put a name on how he feels about you— who’s just as afraid of his own feelings as he is elated by them.

Satan, who worries you’ll be frightened of him if his temper rises, but you never are, even when he tells you that you should be.

Satan, who lays beside you, watching your sleeping face and utterly baffled that you trust him so completely to allow him to see you in such a vulnerable state… who knows deep down he’ll protect you forever.

Satan, who fumbles each time he tries to explain any of this to you, whose face becomes adorably reddened with each failed attempt.

Satan, who realizes that you’ve accepted him entirely, his every fault, his everything, before he had even come close to accepting himself. Who loves you more than he could ever put to words, or that he could ever really comprehend.

Just him. You know? Ahh, just helping him come to terms with everything he doesn’t know, to grow and understand. Helping him, in the end, to love.

[hinamie]

もう一回、もう一回

[ksbbb]

Theo carrying Liam out of the zoo? Such a casual but devoted way to say he’s in love. He saw Liam’s anger and knew he needed to get him out of there.

They’re each other’s anchors. He didn’t even hesitate on making sure Liam didn’t make decisions he would later regret.

So Theo took it upon himself to help Liam.

How many times did Theo knock Liam out?

Five times. ❤️

This is living rent free in my head.

[shizunitis]

My username is not related to boobs and/or tits of any kind.

[mediumgayitalian]

He doesn't quite wake up with the sun.

Well, not literally.

When Will first stirs Nico is still deep in the trenches of his own subconscious, and tonight it is sweet. Tonight he can smell the magnolias in the forests of the South, where he wandered for hours, learning to be comfortable with the size of his hands and the weight of his feet on the ground. Tonight he can hear his sisters' humming, both of them, Hazel's high, sweet voice with Bianca's baritone. He can feel, even, the warmth of his duvet, heavy around his shoulders. None of it makes sense, not together, but it is comforting regardless, and he does not want to leave.

He does not get much choice, in the end. The dawn's sun beams softly through the open windows, and beside him Will wiggles, eyes narrowed carefully as he tries to extract himself from the cage of Nico's arms without waking him. Nico blinks the bleariness out of his eyes, and sees the edge of Will's tongue peeking out of his mouth.

"Y'coulda jus' woken me."

Will jumps.

"Aw, shit. I almost had it this time."

Nico's eyes slide back shut. "Not even close," he snorts.

"I was so. I was up a whole twenty minutes before you sensed it like the little sonar you are."

Will's padding footsteps sound louder than they really are in the quiet morning, echoing off the frigid marble; Nico exhales slowly and maps his steps in his mind: his trek to his drawer in the cabinet, rooting around until he finds his scrubs, his six quick steps to the ensuite, his muffled crash and poorly muffled cursing as he stubs his toe, like he does every morning, on the edge of the doorway.

"Mother -- fucker," Will hisses, clamping his teeth shut at the last minute.

Nico smiles.

He doesn't realise he has fallen back asleep. In his dream, he still hears Will's footsteps, still sees his shadow through the shade of his eyelids as he passes, fluttering from one edge of the room to the next. In his dream there is still the ruffle of the bandages wrapping against his wrists, the tear of a brush as he yanks it through his perpetually-tangled hair. In his dreams Will his humming, terribly off-key, to a song that has not yet been invented.

In his dreams their room is made of hardwood floors and gigantic windows, on an apartment across the street from Mount Sinai. Their blankets smell like peppermint and magnolia body wash.

"I'll see you later," Will murmurs, pressing a kiss to his forehead, his temple, his cheek. In Nico's dream there is a pressure next to him as a hand leans into the mattress. Will hovers above his face. In his dream he smells toothpaste. "I'll be back before you're up, Sleeping Beauty."

"You will not," argues Nico weakly, and his huff is swallowed by Will's teasing grin.

"Love you."

Twelve footsteps to the door, rubber soles slapping the hardwood. The obsidian doors scrape open, and when Nico blinks awake again, they are closed and cold, and the sun is brighter.

He smiles, and goes back to sleep.

[david-tennant-in-chairs]

Pinstripes, plaid, and paisley, oh my!

Throw all the patterns at him and he will still look good

[castielsprostate]

wade listens to so much 90s/00s/10s pop it drives logan INSANE. he's blasting gwen steffani and beyonce in the early mornings, he plugs in the aux to one direction and nsync, he puts on the most ghastly house remixes when cleaning. but to logan that's not the worst part, the worst part is that he starts enjoying it. he starts humming some of the songs when making coffee in the morning before wade is conscious, he taps his fingers on the steering wheel along to the beat in the car, he even picks "call me maybe" during their weekly karaoke night.

wade just smiles fondly and gently