#but let’s be real the chances of that happening are INCREDIBLY slim

[sunnibits]

Sorry you’re having a rough go lately, especially after yesterday :( Give a shout if you’d like me to tag any specific posts so that they’re blockable, or if you just wanna vent. Take care of yourself :)

a bit late to answering but thank u I appreciate the message ♥️♥️ I’m doing a bit better for now at least but damn it’s rough huh 😭

at the risk of oversharing,, this whole thing also just sucks especially hard bc I was already having an incredibly shitty week for other personal life reasons, so the fact that THAT happened immediately after and basically fucked up my whole online safe space rlly felt like a kick in the gut when I was already down 😭😭 like damn could a girl get a DROP of dopamine around here. please. please I’m begging.

but yknow at the end of the day I consider myself to be a very resilient person and I’m sure I’ll be back to my happy go lucky self soon enough 👍👍 tumblr user sunnibits will ALWAYS persevere to draw man titties another day 🫡

[isthedogawolfdog]

I just saw a reel on Instagram, which I absolutely refuse to link because I don’t want to give it more views so I attached a recording of some of the more relevant parts above, but basically this woman (who I assume was a photographer due to the cameras and such) was in the middle of the Arctic doing who knows what. She starts off the video saying something “incredible” happened, and the footage then cuts to her being surrounded by roughly 13 wild wolves. Yeah, you read that right. Due to the poor quality that is my recording, I’ll try and break down what’s happening to the best of my ability.

Throughout the video you can see that the wolves seem not quite quite laid back, but aren’t scared. The wolf closest to the camera at roughly seven seconds in is regarding them with a look that kinda says “hey, what’s this?”.* All the wolves are either walking along on their path, or taking a closer look, not necessarily circling the two individuals but definitely keeping an eye on them. This is probably due to them not seeing people at all prior to this experience. Now, I know that might sound odd, but some areas in the Arctic or places super far north in general have wolves that just haven’t seen people. There was a documentary (which I forget the name of) that covered researchers interacting with a pack who hadn’t seen people. There was also a book (Never Cry Wolf by Farley Mowat) published a while ago that dealt with a pack similarly. When described, the behavior in both the book and documentary kinda reminds me of the wolves in this video.

A quick look at the animals tells me these people aren’t in any real danger, however, should the wolves get more curious and get closer things could probably get a bit tricky. Wolves being naturally neophobic, attacks on humans from healthy wild wolves are slim to none these days. Plus, you really shouldn’t interact with wild animals no matter what they’re acting like. Preferably these people would’ve tried scaring them away the second they saw them approaching (acting aggressive, maintaining eye contact, and whatever you do, don’t run!), but instead, we had to have a Disney princess moment.

In the extremely rare chance that the wolves had seen these people as food, we would be seeing more quicker movement, heads below their shoulders**, various behaviors to test and see whether the people were fit enough for a snack, etc. though this is not the case here. So why, might you be wondering, is this bad if the wolves aren’t hunting the people and the people aren’t interacting with the wolves?

Well, you should never, never, interact with wild animals like this, which if you’ve been following my blog for a while now you probably already know. These wolves, if they so happen to see people again, now associate people with something they can get close to without them getting hurt, which works great if you want a cool selfie, but isn’t good if you are a park ranger, a worried parent, or any other person in a position of authority really, let alone if you have a gun. Historically, if a wild animal (especially a wolf!) gets too close to people, they get shot. It doesn’t matter if the animal was exhibiting dangerous behavior or not, people can’t risk it. Basically, wolf getting closer to people and realizing they can do it without problems = them trying again at a time where things are different and people think “oh no, big and wolf!” and kill it.

I’m not sure how the encounter ended, but later footage shows the wolves farther away rallying as a group, so I assume everything went okayish despite the obvious errors. TL:DR, these people are endangering these animals with their need for a cool video, don’t be a Disney princess, and stay away from wild animals even if they look friendly.

*the wolf closest to the camera has its ears kinda flat and to the side, this is called airplane ears by some biologists (yes seriously) and it is a sign of uncertainty.

**fun fact: theories vary, but some have guessed that prey animals can tell whether a wolf is hunting from whether or not their heads are below their shoulders or not! This would explain why we see videos of wolves calmly walking passed a herd of elk while they stay rested, and why other times the elk will bolt as soon as they see the predator.

[vtewig]

The Identity of Deku's Dad

Has anybody else been so hyped after reading the latest chapters of MHA (418-422) because of the hints that the identity of Deku's father will be revealed soon?

In chapter 422, The U.S. president is shown, stating that all American heroes are to come to Japan, so perhaps Deku's father might be on that list of people arriving to help out.

I know there is still the possibility of the reveal being Dad for One, which is an interesting theory in my opinion, but the other chance that it might be an individual who works with heroes or is one of them also seems very intriguing.

It could also be the president himself, given how he is always in the shadows, but I honestly feel there is a slim chance for that to be true.

I can't be certain how Horikoshi will put the puzzle pieces of who Izuku's father is together, but I feel the president panels might be a piece of the puzzle somehow. His face is in the shadows...

...but again so was AFO's face for a long time.

I still feel really strongly about the DFO theory. On one hand I do see how people might be displeased by it, because AFO does insert himself in a lot of characters lives and influences them from the background, but precisely because of that I find him a very interesting and fleshed out character. So desperate for attention and love, even when he has it he doesn't know how to respond to it. He is also quite a charming character, which I feel you would have to be to impress the lovely Inko Midoriya. She is just too amazing, I also feel that he would be drawn to her as well because of that. Or perhaps because she bears resemblance to a certain Shimura? But again, Inko is very different to Nana, as in, she appears much softer as a character than Nana does, and I feel AFO would crave that from a person given that he wasn't taken care of and had to help his brother out and grew up in a very feral state and an incredibly hostile environment for anybody, let alone a child. Even though he does end up using people, I do think that that is because of his defense mechanism and constant living on survival mode affecting him.

AFO is also someone who doesn't want people to know the real him, his weaknesses and inner thoughts, his human side. The memories he does share with Deku and Tomura are only to traumatize them and break them up; in short: they are carefully curated.

If DFO does come into play, I feel that Tomura/Tenko will have a hand in the reveal. Perhaps helping or saving Izuku from within the vestige world? Maybe he will be able to help by seeing Izuku's memories and altering them like Deku did for him, because in the case that does end up happening, Deku will be the one needing a helping hand in coping with the reveal, and who better than the boy who that man was a father figure to as well. And in the end Deku and Tomura could also together "defeat" AFO by seeing his memories and saving the defenseless child he once was.

This is probably overthinking, but I wanted to share my thoughts with you guys. I love trying to guess what will happen and still being surprised by Horikoshi's amazing execution each time. I would love to read what you guys have to say on the topic.

[pollymorgan]

Negan, Lucille and Amalia

Warning: smut, bisexuality, cheating, unrequited love, threesome

Sometimes fate is a peculiar thing. Or was it just by chance that I happened to run into Lucille while shopping, when I was visiting my parents in my old hometown?

Lucille and I were high school buddies and incredibly close friends. Oh man, the fun we used to have back in the day. It's incredible how long ago that feels and how enamored I was with her at the time. But then she got together with that awful guy, Negan. It really wasn't just jealousy on my part. Okay, maybe a little. But the guy was simply wrong for her. His idiotic remarks drove me crazy, he was arrogant and a real troublemaker. I knew he would eventually break my angel’s heart. So, I was even more surprised when Lucille told me at the grocery store that they were now married. Had that handsome scoundrel really made it?

The blond, petite woman was just as warm-hearted as ever, and her green eyes seemed to shine even brighter than before. Incredibly, after so many years, she managed to make my heart race wildly all over again.

As we said goodbye, she hugged her slim body tightly against mine, and I breathed in the delicate scent of lilac from her hair. Then she looked at me with her most beautiful smile.

"How about we have a girls' night tonight, like the old times? I'll cook something, and we can chat about the good old days. Negan is going on a motorcycle tour, so we'd have the place to ourselves unless, of course, you're already booked?"

The thought of spending the evening alone with her caused a tingling sensation in my stomach, like one I hadn't felt in ages. I swallowed hard and tried to respond as neutrally as possible, "Oh yes, that would be great... Just tell me what I can bring."

After we sorted out a few details - such as when we would meet and how I would get to her house - we exchanged phone numbers, and I left the store feeling like a freshly infatuated teenager.

Back at my parents' house, I pondered endlessly about what to wear. I definitely didn't want to be too dressed up. After all, it was just supposed to be a "girls' night." But I also didn't want to appear too casually dressed. So, in the end, I opted for a simple black dress that accentuated my curves but was not too extravagant.

With a bottle of red wine in my bag, I set off for the Smiths' house at the agreed-upon time. I noticed my excitement skyrocketing as my GPS indicated I was getting closer to the destination. When I parked in front of their property, I gazed at it for a while, then quickly checked my subtle makeup in the rearview mirror and stepped out decisively. Clutching the bottle tightly, I rang their doorbell, and a soft voice called out, "I'll be right there..."

As Lucille opened the door, she appeared somewhat flustered. She brushed a blonde lock from her forehead, took a deep breath in and out. "The food was supposed to be ready before you arrived, but I completely underestimated the time!"

I smiled at her. How sweet was it that she was getting stressed out on my account? I noticed she had accentuated her beautiful eyes with a subtle brown shade on her eyelids. She hadn't worn any makeup at the store today. Had she put on makeup especially for me? My imagination was already running wild.

Spontaneously, I gave her a kiss on the cheek in greeting. "Let's prepare it together, it's more fun that way, and besides, I brought this..." as I held out the bottle of red wine to her.

Lucille smiled at me. "Amalia Johnson! You haven't changed a bit..."

I shrugged playfully. As she walked ahead, my gaze automatically stuck to her figure from behind. She was still as petite as back then. Her blonde curls bobbed with each step, accentuating her slender legs and tiny perky derriere perfectly outlined in her dress. It was only then that I noticed she was also wearing a black dress similar to mine. The realization snapped me out of my thoughts and brought a grin to my face.

"Oh, matching outfits?" I asked amusedly, and Lucille turned to face me. Instantly, her eyes traveled over my body.

"It sure seems that way, but it looks better on you. Your bust looks simply perfect in that dress," her words about my body sent a jolt of electricity through me but also gave me the opportunity to openly gaze at her cleavage. Her breasts were barely covered by the thin fabric of the dress, clearly outlined.

"Do you have to say that? You don't even need a bra and you look fantastic. Do you know how hard it is to find a fitting and chic bra in my size?" I joked.

Lucille fetched two wine glasses from the cabinet and handed me a corkscrew, saying, "You've always been better at this..."

Immediately, the memory resurfaced of when we were camping with a few friends, and although I remembered the wine, I had forgotten the corkscrew, spending half the evening struggling to open the darn bottle and being celebrated as a hero when I finally succeeded. The recollection made us burst into hearty laughter. As we toasted to a lovely evening, we locked eyes, and I immediately wondered again how perfect a person could actually be.

"And Amalia? Have you found the woman of your dreams yet?" she suddenly asked me, as she turned her attention back to the pot on the stove that was already boiling.

Yes, she's right in front of me, I thought silently and then shook my head. "No, I just went through a breakup.. Women are complicated, maybe I'll try with a man, they seem to be simpler." I laughed.

"Oh no, forget about it.." she said, and despite her smile, I heard the seriousness in her voice, which made my heart sink.

"Everything okay between Negan and you, I mean?" I asked.

She took a big sip from her glass and then shrugged slightly before answering, "Oh, honestly, I don't know... He can be really great when he's not spending the whole night playing computer games in the basement or hanging out with his weird friends, if he's even really hanging out with them at all.."

I immediately noticed her voice starting to tremble. I grabbed my glass and stood next to her at the stove. My arm wrapped around her waist and I held her tightly against me, "What do you mean? Do you think he might have someone else?"

The blonde woman rested her head against my shoulder. "Oh, I don't know... he's always not there and always has some strange excuses, I've caught him lying so many times, but whenever I try to confront him, he just disappears again and eventually reappears with a sweet declaration of love... Oh, fuck..." she wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes with her forearms. ".. I wanted to have a nice evening for us and not burden you with my problems."

"Don't think that..." I said, stroking her hair lightly, "...are you alone again today because of that? Did he just run off again?" I asked her.

My words apparently hit the mark, because now she couldn't hold back her tears anymore. They flowed from her beautiful green eyes, and she immediately hid behind her hands. Without thinking, I pulled her tightly into my arms and held her, then whispered in her ear. "Shh... it's okay, I'm here now and we're still going to have a nice evening... But you don't have to hide your emotions from me, understood? You can tell me everything..."

I felt her nod slightly and her tears dampened my shoulder. Then, as we stood together at the stove cooking, she told me some things about her marriage that only confirmed my dislike for Negan, but I didn't comment negatively, I just listened because I felt that's exactly what she needed.

As we changed the topic to match the food, we opened our second bottle of wine. We reminisced and almost forgot to eat, but the alcohol flowed even faster. My stomach was starting to ache from all the laughter, and my cheeks were glowing. As we cleared the table, all the cutlery even fell to the floor because we were giggling so much. It only took one keyword and we were doubled over with laughter again. Oh God, how I had missed this. How I had missed her! It was like a journey back in time. Like we were 17 again.

After we had calmed down a bit, I was just about to load the dirty dishes into the dishwasher when Lucille opened the fridge and held up a bottle of champagne.

"And now this?" she asked, beaming with joy.

"Oh God, champagne on red wine, I don't think that would be a good idea..." I remarked. But Lucille had already opened the bottle and let the cork pop, which made us burst into laughter again.

"Oh, forget it, we're not thinking about tomorrow today..." she said decisively and took a big swig straight from the bottle, a few drops that had overflowed spilling down her chin. Damn, she was incredibly sexy.

"Let's go out to the porch swing and look at the stars, just like back then..." she said determinedly. I nodded in agreement and thought about how I used to never look at the sky back then, but it was always the perfect opportunity for me to secretly stare at Lucille and examine every little detail of her beautiful face.

It was pitch dark outside, only a few small lamps showed us the way to the cozy spot in her garden. The swing wasn't big, but it was comfortable. So we sat close together and gently swayed back and forth. Despite the darkness, I could see Lucille's gaze, the one she had when she was a little drunk. It hadn't changed a bit and made me grin slightly.

"Can I ask you something?" she broke our short silence.

"Of course, anything..." I said decisively, taking another sip from the bottle.

"Have you ever been with a man?" Her gaze went directly to my eyes, and she looked at me expectantly.

"Twice!" I quickly replied, already grinning, " ... and one of them was Philip Blake!" Her eyes widened even more. "No way, you're kidding me... you were with Philip Blake?!?"

I nodded, laughing. "Yes, it was a one-time thing, I think he's the reason I turned lesbian..." I joked, then I tried to compose myself. "No, seriously... I wanted to try it out and..."

"And how was it.." Lucille interjected.

I shrugged. "Well, apparently it didn't convince me... Counter-question, have you ever been with a woman?" I had barely finished the question when my heart started pounding wildly in my chest.

Lucille shook her head slightly and moved a little closer to me. Or was I just imagining it?

"Not even a kiss?" I asked curiously. I noticed her gaze drifting to my lips, and now I was sure I wasn't imagining it. Her head came closer to mine. Just before our lips met, she paused and whispered, "But there's a first time for everything..." I felt her warm breath on my face before her lips gently landed on mine. It took me a few seconds to realize what was happening. But then I responded to her touch.

How many times had I imagined this? But in reality, it felt a thousand times more beautiful. A wave of heat flooded my body as our mouths slowly opened. Her tongue lightly caressed mine and slowly explored. I had never felt something so tender and passionate before. The world stood still, at least for me in that moment. Her hands gripped my face and pulled me even closer, making the kiss more intense. I had never enjoyed anything so much as I did at that moment. The feeling of happiness, mixed with alcohol, made me feel like I was floating. Suddenly, Lucille pulled away from me and stood up. I looked at her in shock and stammered, after regaining my composure, "Sorry... I didn't mean to... I mean that...".

But she winked at me and reached out her hand. "I just thought we go inside and I show you my bedroom."

In a trance, I reached for her hand and followed her inside. Her delicate hand felt so good in mine. But then I stopped, halting her as well. "Lucille, you have no idea how much I want this, but I don't want you to do something you might regret tomorrow."

Determined, she pressed another kiss on my lips and then said, "...today, we're not thinking about tomorrow, okay?" I nodded and followed her excitedly up the stairs.

Then we stood facing each other in front of the bed, and Lucille looked at me somewhat nervously. "And now, I mean, what do we do now?" Her uncertainty was adorable and made me grin.

"Are you sure you want this?" I asked again, hoping with every fiber of my being that she wouldn't back out now. So relieved when she immediately replied, "More than sure!"

I took a step towards her to close the gap between us and wrapped my arms around her waist. "Okay, let me take the lead. Just tell me if you like something, or if you don't, promise?"

"Okay," she confirmed softly before our mouths met again. Then my kisses slowly traveled down her chin, to her neck, and I breathed in her distinctive scent. My fingers slid down the thin straps of her dress and let it fall slowly to the ground. Now Lucille stood before me in just black panties. My hands slowly moved down her back, landing on her petite bottom.

"You're so beautiful," I murmured, placing small kisses on her décolleté. I noticed how her heart was pounding as strongly as mine, and how her nipples were hardening, even though I hadn't touched them yet. Slowly, my tongue glided to the right one, lightly teasing it, eliciting a soft moan from Lucille and causing my lower abdomen to tighten.

"Please... lie down on the bed," I urged her. But her hands moved to the zipper of my dress. "In a moment, but undress yourself first, I want to feel your skin against mine."

With those words, I felt her undo my closure and strip off my dress. Then she immediately began to unfasten my bra. As we both stood almost completely naked before each other, her eyes wandered to my breasts. "Wow, you're perfect. I never thought it would turn me on so much... Can I touch them?"

I grinned at her caution. "Of course, you can touch me anywhere..." I clasped her wrists and placed her hands on my chest. Her initially hesitant touches quickly became more demanding. Pressing her, we kissed as I slowly pushed her onto the bed.

Now she lay before me at last. The woman I had dreamed of so often. With determination, I grabbed her panties and slid them off, as she lifted her hips to make it easier for me. After I had removed them and carelessly tossed them aside, I grasped her knees and firmly parted her legs, which she willingly allowed.

Her perfect pussy glistened with excitement. Lucille was so beautiful and incredibly hot at the same time.

I grinned at her, "So you like it, I see..." Then I took her hand and guided it to her center. "Do you feel how wet you are?" Her fingers slowly traced through her folds.

"Are you too?" she asked. Determinedly, I also removed my panties and then placed the hand that had just touched her most intimate parts on my groin.

"Tell me!" Her slender fingers ran through my center, lightly touching my clit and making me shudder.

"Yes! You feel so good..." she said, now a bit more confident.

I took her hand and kissed her fingers, soaked with our arousal.

"Lie back down, let me taste you..." I commanded, and the beautiful woman immediately lay back on the bed, never taking her eyes off me.

I climbed onto the bed and knelt between her legs. My kisses roamed around her belly button, and I saw the hairs on her body standing up. Then I continued with my lips further down. I took my time caressing the delicate skin and noticed how Lucille spread her legs wider and pushed her pelvis towards me. As my mouth explored her mound, I heard her soft moans growing louder. Then I licked flatly over her labia, enjoying the taste of her wetness, before I started to caress her swollen clit with my tongue. I felt her shudder under my touch, and as she moaned my name, my pussy clenched in excitement.

Suddenly, we heard a soft clearing of the throat, which immediately startled us. I quickly turned towards the door, where the sound had come from, and saw Negan leaning in the doorway. Fuck! We hadn't heard him coming. Horrified, I grabbed a pillow to cover my naked body and looked desperately at Lucille. She stared at Negan as if frozen. "Listen, let me explain," she stammered.

"Amalia fucking Johnson! The girl every guy wanted to hook up with in high school, but who never let any guy get close, is fucking behind my back my wife!" he said amused, running a hand over his forehead. Negan had aged, which didn't make him any less attractive, no, quite the opposite. His hair was gelled back, now noticeably gray. He had a neat short beard. His dark green eyes quickly moved between the two of us.

"Negan, it's not what you might think..." I tried to save the situation somehow, even though it was beyond saving.

He pushed off the door frame and came a few steps towards us. In the process, he casually took off his black leather jacket and threw it onto a chair. Now he was only wearing a white shirt and dark jeans.

"So I think you were just in the middle of licking my wife's pussy, and Lucille sounded like she was about to come. And believe me, sweetheart, I know what she sounds like when she's about to. So either you finish what you started, or I have to do it. You decide who the spectator is here..." After finishing the sentence, he casually sat down on the bed. I looked at Lucille in disbelief. She thought for a moment and then said, "Please, Amalia, continue..."

I heard Negan laugh, then he gave Lucille a quick but passionate kiss on her lips. Again, he looked at me, "Come on, you heard her..."

"Is... is this really okay with you?" I asked Lucille hesitantly. She nodded vigorously, "More than that... is it okay with you too?.." I also nodded and meant it with full conviction. Strangely, this situation aroused me incredibly. And quickly, I disappeared between her legs again.

"Ladies, I think this is fucking paradise..." I heard Negan comment as I touched Lucille's most sensitive spots, which I had just explored.

Amidst Lucille's moans, I heard Negan undo his belt. After a short time, I looked up and saw him holding his penis in his hand. It was rock hard and covered with many prominent veins. Admittedly, I haven't seen many aroused cocks live. But Negan's was really quite large. And I don't know if it was him or the whole situation, but it aroused me incredibly.

"Touch him!" I urged Lucille, and I immediately saw Negan smirk.

"Really?" she asked somewhat uncertainly.

I grinned, "He's your damn husband, of course.."

Would you like a second part?

[m1kad00]

Cyberpunk 2077 random headcannons!!

Characters included: Viktor Vektor, Muamar Reyes (El Capitán)

Reader: AFAB

TW: Age-gap relationship, reader is a mercenary (so violence ig), my horrible grammar, pregnancy, NSFW (at least I tried)

(Possible spoilers for Muamars gig)

Viktor Vektor

SFW Headcannons

-he probably didn't actually think about having a relationship with you... at first

-because you were out of his age range

-but of course, you managed to capture this old mans heart anyways

-I mean.. if you weren't on a mission, you were hanging around his clinic or Mistys shop

-Misty did play a big part to make this relationship work in the first place... she played her role as a cupid very well to say the least

-after you two finally got into a relationship, your visits at the clinic became even more frequent.. which made Jackie and V some people a little bit suspicious

-Misty was the first to know, obviously (she's the mastermind behind this anyways)

-Vik did not make your relationship offical immediately

-he loves you of course! Dearly. But he's not as loud about relationships as others would be.

-he's not big on PDA, but he wouldn't mind holding hands or small kisses.. just not making out or something like that

-the first time you both showed each other affection infront of others was a few weeks into your relatonship (Jackie and V were very surprised)

-his loves reciving gifts from you (have you guys seen those cute little 'waving cats' in his clinic? (idk what they're actually called I'm sorry))

-so he loves collecting little things you give him

-he doesn't care about the expense.. as long as it's from you he'll cherish it!

-jewlery, shiny stones, trinkets from one of your missions. It does not matter, he will hold onto it for eternity!

-Vik wouldv'e loved to have kids.. (let's be real that ain't happening anymore)

-but if it actually would be possible he'd be sosososo happy!!

-the chances he'd actually be able to have children of his own were slim

-I headcannon him to be around 60 (so he's Gen Alpha lol (he was maybe born around 2017))

-however he would be super worried that you would have a miscarriage or an accident or something like that, so he made sure you would be well rested in those 9 moths

-no more missions or hard work

-he made you spend your time mostly in his clinic, at Misty's or at home (not in a bossy and toxic way, but in a caring and sweet way)

-with the pregnancy, Vik also made you settle down for the time being

-being a merc with a toddler is not the best idea

-but he is a very caring person and an incredible father, so he was there when you needed him

-morning sickness? He definetly has a trick up his sleeve for that matter!

(I hate kids lowkey so I won't proceed.. for now)

NSFW Headcannons

-this man is very, very, very experienced

-he was a pro boxer after all.. he knows what he's doing!

-I'm sure this man was a bit freaky in his younger years

-so whatever you're into, he's into

-exept causing you pain, that's a turn off for him

-also he's more of a dom, but for you he'd also be more subissive

-he also loves breeding (absolutely not because I'm into that)

-holding you in a chokehold while doggy is just perfecton

Muamar Reyes (El Capitán)

-realtalk, no one talks about my pookie

-he might have a goofy bowl-cut but he's precious

-not even pinterest had a picture of him :((

-someone has to write for him at some point

SFW Headcannons

-you two probably met because of V

-you both went on one of his missions together, that's when he first saw you

-he instantly was head over heels

-he (smoothly) asked for your number, because he "might have some gigs for you in the future".

-not even one day later he got a gig for you.. what a coincidence!

-which was basically just you driving him around.. I mean you're getting paid! Who are you to complain?

-it turns out you both were indeed very compatible

-you both got along great (and he was lowkey flirty)

-after that day you got gigs from him constantly

-not only to chauffeur him anywhere he wants but also quick simple gigs like stealing cars for him

-Muamar would always ask how you are after gigs (in a playful way, so his intentions weren't as obvious)

-at some point he asked you out anyways

-he invited you to dinner

-after that he drove you both to his spot, where you can see Santo Domingo clearly

-there he would tell you how much he loves you

-Muamar is actually very open about his relationship

-so he's very into PDA

-some guy gets to close to you for his liking? He'll personally confront him about how he's too close to his lovely girlfriend.

-he needs to touch you 24/7. He's driving? Hand on your thigh. You two are walking? Hand holding. No matter where you both are going, people will know you are his.

-Muamar would want kids of his own, but would also be open for adoption

-they would grow up in Santo Domingo, but under diffrent circumstances

-since he hired V to steal that Arasaka medical truck, he wanted to make sure the people of Santo Domingo would not live in fear

-he would want his children to grow up without any health issiues caused by a simple cup of water, unlike him

-he would adore his kids, seriously

-even tho he looks like the villain from Minions, he still has an awesome style (so will his kids)

-would do anything to be a good dad

-he'd go all out to make the house/apartment super save for your kids

-once they'd grow up he would play with them in the backyard

-super corny dad jokes

-I LOVE HIM SMMMM

NSFW Headcannons

-just like Vik, he's experienced

-I can't imagine someone from NC to not be experienced

-average size, nothing to complain about

-he's more of a dom

-loves loves LOVES you on top of him

-his favorite positions are doggy and cowgirl

-car sex.

-you riding him in the back of his car while he's guiding you, holding your waist

Author Note

I am sorry for writing such bad NSFW HC's. I tried my best, I just needed some content of my favorite Night City legends on here. Especally of Muamar. I hope more people will appreciate him. Thank you for reading this by the way <33

[marveloustimestwo]

I saw your post about platonic yandere vampire natasha and I was wondering how would the reader get turned to a vampire? Did the reader want it or did the reader try to run away and fight her

I apologize for taking so long to get this out. Thanks for being so patient, and thank you for the request.

Warnings: Yandere themes, talk of being turned against your will and forced captivity.

As I mentioned in the original post, there is absolutely no chance you're not getting turned into a vampire.

Natasha hates the idea of you outliving her. Every parent does, but unlike any normal parent, Natasha has a way to ensure that doesn't happen.

All she has to do is bite you and you'll be like her for the rest of eternity; unaging and forever youthful. Forever her child.

Generally, I think it depends on the person as to whether or not you were turned willingly or not.

Having such a possessive and controlling parent would be rather unfortunate to have in real life. Most people would have trouble dealing with that, especially for so long. No one should have to deal with that.

But hey, vampires are cool man.

There are some issues you might think about. Some people don't like the idea of immortality, while others don't like the idea of drinking blood to sustain themselves.

Despite those cons, depending on what version of vampire you're thinking of, you could also get some incredible powers. Enhanced speed and strength, heightened senses, being nearly unkillable.

Some people even like the idea of living forever.

Generally speaking, though, it's unlikely that you'd be willing to deal with such a controlling, somewhat delusional vampire for the rest of eternity.

Because Natasha's not about to let you get away from her that easily.

You have a very slim chance of actually being able to run away, at least at the start or even before she turns you.

Natasha plans ahead. If you're actively still fighting back (against her obsession, or having expressed not wanting to turn in the past) she won't let you know that she's planning to turn you.

Depending on which type of vampire you're imagining here (Twilight vampires, Count Dracula, etc.) there will be different ways Natasha makes sure you aren't able to run or fight once you come to.

And she's not easily manipulated. She'll see whatever mask you put up to try and get away pretty easily, so any plan you have will have to be long-term and quiet.

And there really is no chance of physically fighting her, even as a vampire. Nat's far more experienced and has fought other far more experienced vampires than you. While she won't kill or hurt you, you will be put on time-out.

Running can be a fool's errand if you don't plan for much more than just getting away. You'd have to actually save up supplies and figure out where you're going to stay after if you want to be alone for more than like, five minutes.

Even then, running from Natasha is really only temporary. She's rich, experienced, and has a lot of connections. It won't take her that long to find you.

Eventually, no matter how hard you fight or how well you hide, you're going to be brought back home.

You're her sweet baby. Now you guys have all of eternity to spend together, whether you want to or not.

[a-really-bad-decision]

Look. I get that folks who are approaching the finale from this angle are usually doing so from a place of genuine good faith and love for Joel. But like. If your immediate reaction after finishing season 1 is to insist that the cure never could have been developed/distributed/tested/viable and that the Fireflies were stupid/naive/slapdicks/never could have accomplished it anyways, so Joel Definitely Did Nothing Wrong, I can’t help but feel like you’re wildly missing the point of it all.

Because like. Joel did not ever care if the cure could have worked. He did not care if it’s what Ellie might have wanted in that moment (neither did the fireflies of course, but they’re not the ones who traveled by her side, protected her, made her feel safe and cared about). Neither of these were ever a point of consideration in the finale. Ellie’s death and the resultant hypothetical cure could have had a guaranteed 100% success rate. It could have spread instantly, around the world the moment they removed her brain from her skull, turning every single runner, clicker, and bloater back to a healthy human being, with no deleterious side effect.

And Joel still would have shot that doctor point blank in the face.

Because that moment right there, is the point. To me at least. It’s the climax that the whole story has been building towards: a father’s beautiful, selfish decision to save his daughter at the literal cost of the entire world. And not just the world in an abstract sense, but in ways that carry weight to him on a deeply personal level. Tess’ dying wish. A real future for his niece or nephew. Ellie’s own agency in all of this. And he did it without hesitating for a moment.

Going from treating Ellie like cargo, like a clicker waiting to happen, to deciding that her life is more important to him than than any other human being who was or ever will be born? Regardless of whether it’s “““healthy”””, that’s an incredible fucking relationship arc. And it only has this level of gravity and meaning if there are genuine consequences to making that decision.

(And let me be clear here: none of this is a moral indictment of Joel. Joel’s motivations, actions, decisions etc. are all incredibly blatant, human, and relatable, and if he’d done anything but go on that rampage, it would have contradicted everything we know and understand about him so far. Also, he’s fucking fictional. Who gives a shit if he did a Kinda Amoral Thing. None of it is real, and it doesn’t matter)

The argument here isn’t that Fireflies Good And Smart And Can Totally Save The World For Sure Guys, or Joel Did Objectively Bad Thing And Is Unforgivable Bad Forever Now. The argument is that the show is much more interesting and internally consistent if you buy into the idea that there’s a chance, even a slim one, that the fireflies could have extracted a viable vaccine at the terrible cost of a fourteen year old girl’s life. That maybe Joel did prevent a cure from being made – that he potentially did doom the world for Ellie (or at least doomed it to another few decades of limping painfully by until something else came along). And that despite the cost, he pulled that trigger, brutally and without hesitation. He did it knowing that he’ll have to go on living with the knowledge of what he took from everyone, and how effortless it was to make that choice in spite of it all. That he’ll willingly betray Ellie’s trust as many times as he has to if it means keeping her from taking the burden of that guilt on herself, but also because he can’t bear the thought of her hating him if she learned the truth. And most of all (and in his own words), that if he was given the chance to go back and do it again, he would have made the exact same choice all over.

You take that out, and what kinda finale do you get now? A run and gun scene of a man rescuing a girl that he’s come to love, sure, but now it’s from a bunch of one dimensional, child murdering villains, set in a place they never had to go to, preceded by a journey that was rendered useless before they even left, all because there was never any chance of it working in the first place. Pointless roundabout cynicism, and an endpoint that now textually only existed to stick the protagonists in their get along sweater.

You don’t have to agree with this specific interpretation of the ending. I get that this can come across as a harsh reading of Joel, especially since he’s a character that myself and others genuinely like a lot. But that nitpicky fixation on proving that the cure never could have worked always felt more for the benefit of the uncomfortable player/viewer than as any sort of actual narrative improvement. A way to divest yourself of ever having to sit with the weight of either choice. Of having to think about the way that a secret so massive, sitting unspoken between you and a loved one, can rot that relationship. Of the way that someone you thought you trusted can act in your best interests, but against your own wishes.

And if that’s not what you want from the show, genuinely and without judgment: that’s fine. You keep doing you. I’m just not sure why you’re watching something like tlou otherwise.

[writingforevren]

STRANGER THINGS - Eddie Munson Theories

SPOILERS AHEAD DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN SEASON 4 OF STRANGER THINGS

Disclaimer - I haven’t looked up any theories, these are both of my own creation and if you have seen or written similar ones then we must share braincells

I Love Eddie Munson, I also kind of relate to Eddie Munson, so obviously I was heartbroken when he ‘died’ but... what if he didn’t?

THEORY 1 - THE POSSIBLE ONE

Okay so this first one is relatively plausible. After Eddie’s ‘death’ it cut away to 2 days later, so what could’ve happened in that time? Robin, Nancy, and Steve find Dustin crying over Eddie’s body. Nancy checks his pulse to realize that he’s not quite dead, even though his pulse is incredibly weak. Steve carries Eddie out of the portal just because there’s that little bit of hope that he might survive.

Meanwhile El just finished her fight with Vecna and bringing Max back. She realizes she needs to go back in to check on Dustin and the others to make sure they’re okay so she does and she sees Dustin sobbing his eyes out over Eddie while they try desperately to treat his wounds and wake him up. El thinks If she can heal someone once she can do it again right? So she remembers what she did with Max and harnesses that same power to help her friends friend who obviously means a lot to them.

Eddie takes a breath in a ‘miracle’ he’s incredibly out of it. They bandage him up, talk him through it, painkillers, take care of him, lot’s of tears too y’know as you do when your friend almost dies. Then they make a pact. Nobody can know Eddie is alive, he would hide out and pretend he’d died in the earthquake since he was still a wanted serial killer. Nobody except for them would know; Their ‘little secret’. Dustin talking to Eddie’s uncle is actually him internally struggling with whether to tell him the truth or not, instead of being sad about his death, he’s sad that he has to lie to Eddie’s family.

THEORY 2 - THE UNHINGED ONE

Hear me out- This one is unhinged as all hell. El and Vecna have relatively similar abilities and theoretically can do the same things. We recently learned that El has the ability to start a stopped heart. So then that means that if Vecna wanted to he could bring someone back. One of Vecna’s flaws is that he only has the ability to access the real world through dreams, so maybe he needs a vessel, a body that he could use to access the ‘rightside up.’

Now where’s he going to find a viable vessel in the upside down? I know this is way out of wack but... Eddie Munson. Jason (aka the annoying jock that died last minute) kept saying Eddie was a ‘vessel’ for the devil but what if that wasn’t true- YET. Look I hate Jason just as much as the next guy but this could be a way for the ridiculous things he said to have a real meaning.

If Vecna and El have the same powers than Vecna could bring Eddie back and maybe not even with that much effort considering he has a lot more control over his powers even if he doesn’t have as much raw talent as El. Eddie played “Master of Puppets” as his final song so what if he became the puppet? only to eventually overcome the inner evil with the help of the ‘gang’. Also imagine Joseph Quinn playing Vecna pretending to be Eddie- Need I say more? I know this theory has a very slim chance of being even a little bit right but my brain won’t let this shit go.

If you read this far, thank you for indulging in my revisit of this hyperfixation. Also I would love to hear others thoughts on these theories and their own- or y’know if you just wanna believe Eddie is dead than- you do you ig.

[asar-talyer]

Cough. A huge cloud of dust rises in front of the man, which, like thick curtains, blocks the sunlight, like a sea wave covers his head. Splinters, stones hit the face, the scientist covers his face and bends down until everything settles, and the earth stops trembling.

The fair-haired one is still clearing his throat, but the picture before his eyes is already clear and you can see the battlefield, or rather the remains of some huge old structure and the earth soaked in blood and disheveled from explosions.

Blue sky... Not dotted with clouds, but rare white translucent clouds, and nothing prevents the warm rays of the sun from touching this bloody arena and showing its consequences and horrifying end. The bright color of fresh blood makes the breath go astray and the heart freeze.

Crows. Large black birds that perched on the wreckage, and some of them still hovering in the sky, circling around the perimeter above the bodies, cawing loudly, hoarsely and disgustingly, meaning the approach of death. Nathan shudders, not daring to spend more than a second analyzing everything around him, climbs up the hill to see the full scale of the battle. Looks into the faces of the dead, into their cold and pale bodies. He could not make a mistake in the calculations, because he knew where and for what he came here. The pupil finds the one whom the scientist was so diligently looking for. Clinging to such familiar facial features, the heart skips a beat, and then begins to beat with incredible force that its roar is heard in the ears.

His biggest fears had come true, that slim chance of losing, that horrific end. He flies up to the body and with trembling hands lifts the body to find even a weak, but a sign of life. He is afraid to see death in front of his eyes.

The body is trembling, and the hands are tremors. Unbelieving, as if this is all a terrible dream, he presses his still warm body to himself, whispering something inconsistently under his breath. There is a mess in my head, real chaos, the sobriety of the mind has been shaken, now everything is going to the defiance and he is scared. It would seem stupid... Nathan saw countless deaths that hurt his soul, but he understood that this was all for the sake of saving the future, therefore, rash decisions should not be made, otherwise there would be catastrophic consequences, because of which no one could be saved.

But now... Something irrational prevents you from calmly picking it up. Fear wraps around the whole body with snake rings, slowly suffocating.The crows croaked louder, the blue sky was covered with dark bands of clouds. There is thunder and it starts to rain, washing away the blood and nailing the dust.

Only Nathan silently covered the already cold body of the hero, protecting him from ice drops, in the empty hope that this would change something. Still presses tightly to him, burying himself in the whitish top of his head. Thoughts are drowned out by the sound of rain and the roar of thunder, which unpleasantly beats on the ears.

The nature of the dead did not mourn for a long time, immediately after the thunderstorm the sun comes out, which tends to sunset, painting the sky in the evening bright colors of crimson, burgundy, purple and red.

The scientist comes to his senses from an unpleasant frosty wind current. It's getting cold. He should go, he's spent too much time here.

“And not in vain,” the blue-eyed one thinks.

“I’ll fix it, I promise…” Nathan whispers softly, kissing Chu on the forehead for a short goodbye, “I won’t let this happen again…”

The scientist leaves him, before entering the portal, one last glance at the dead, but so dearly beloved hero, promising not to make any more mistakes. So that Chu would no longer suffer. He will save, protect, will try again and again until a happy ending comes.

[tiredassmage]

*slaps on table* 6, 16, 18 for best agent boy Tyr

(Aaaannnd 21 for your GW2 necromancer 👀 pleaaaase)

I want you to know that every time we trade agent asks I feel like that cat slamming the like and reblog buttons while making laser eyes. xD

As always, rambling under a cut involved, lol xD

best boy best boy best boy best b-

6. Their vices (physical or emotional)

Probably impressively given everything that happens, Tyr manages to dodge any physical addictions. He's far more of a social drinker than one likely to turn to a bottle for his solutions.

But also I have been thinking so intently even before this ask set about how I really don't think Tyr recognizes his own brand of self-sacrificing. He has the potential to be incredibly self-destructive about it, but almost by my sheer spite on the matter, he hasn't. Yet. If this game gives him so much as half an excuse to act on half the shit he thinks and says about taking down the Empire swinging, I'm going to stab this man myself so he can't do it.

I don't even think he'd call it self-sacrifice. He would low-key cringe at the idea of anyone thinking him a hero. Yeah, sure, yada yada, Immortal Sith Emperor is dead, whatever. He's just a lucky bastard with a blaster. All the real work was everyone else's. And watch - he wouldn't let you call him humble about it, either. While he's not particularly forceful or upfront about it, Tyr does have some strong ideas about how, exactly, people should remember him. There's still a part of him that is like (softly) "don't." This wasn't part of his briefing when he agreed to join Intelligence, damn it.

But, yeah, I'd say his biggest vice is that almost resignation to what he was/is as Cipher Nine, double agent to the Republic. He's not going to be ridiculously reckless and take unnecessary risks, but if you handed him a critical mission with a slim chance of a working exit strategy that would put a huge dent in the Empire?

Equally part of his problem is that he recognizes wars of attrition are not sustainable nor have they resulted in lasting peace, but find someone who gives a damn. If he could use a blaster against the Immortal damn Emperor, what is stopping him from taking on the rest of the Sith Empire? (Logic. Logic is what. He's not an idiot. He's just. Opinionated.)

He wouldn't tell Theron. Theron would try to stop him. Theron can know like. Right before he leaves. Maybe. That's maybe not the kind of message he'd like to leave with Jonas alone, after all. (Yes, Tyr and I have thought about this too much. It's such a problem. That's why he's not allowed to do this shit!!!!! Tyr!!!! PLeaSE!!!)

16. Dark Secrets/Skeletons in the Closet.

Hmmm.... hmm, hmm, hmmm.... Ohhh, the things spies don't tell other people. This one's tough. There's plenty of things he won't tell someone. Bastard still hasn't exactly clarified what his relationship with Shara was to Theron, for one. Half of his Intelligence career is still 'whatever you found in the records or think you know probably wasn't the half of it.'

Okay, so, his biggest one he won't probably ever been keen to spell out is that he probably wouldn't even bat an eye at a scenario like our theoretical occasion from the last question. At the end of the day, Tyr is still willing to push his own limits and cross some of his own boundaries to achieve an objective. And he knows there's shit like that that Theron would never agree to. And he would, knowing this, choose to omit details, if it came to this.

Throws my papers up in the air. And Theron was all in knots after Nathema, and Tyr is still willing to pull this shit. What am I gonna do with these two????

Anyway. I think also, in a way, there is a very, very tiny part of him that might, might accuse him of being a coward if it ever managed to wriggle out of the recesses of his mind because I do not believe Tyr would have ever asked Shara to leave the Empire. Part of it would be not thinking, even before he knew about her own programming, that it's what she wanted - and a backhanded accusation at himself from that would be that's not for him to determine to begin with. But I also think part of it is that he loved her, he trusted her to guide him as Cipher Nine, yes - all of that is true.

But I don't think he trusted anyone to understand why he would defect. That's one thing I don't think he would have trusted to her, given an opportunity.

Of course, none of this exactly strikes him as problems to deal with because they're not causing problems right now. He can't change the past and he certainly can't predict the future. So he'll just have to make do with what he's got and what comes at him whenever it gets here.

Oh, I got ahead of myself, didn't I, considering 18...

18. Things they'll never admit.

Okay, well, the last part of the last question is probably his biggest one. He's going to take that with him to the grave. One day he might explain a bit more of who Shara was to him to Theron, but will he ever admit that particular nuance? Absolutely not. Not relevant, unchangeable, nope. Nope nope nope.

There's probably a part of Tyr that could really benefit or feel something from someone giving him a pat on the shoulder and telling him, "you did alright, kid." (A), He, once again, doesn't actively realize this and, (B), BioWare where is Ardun Kothe? I increasingly need to know because I am increasingly having thoughts about him unexpectedly showing up on the Alliance base and it just being a Quiet Thing they acknowledge in private that Tyr would be... so relieved to see that man again. Bastard. He cares about you. They never officially call adoption, but like, Tyr was adopted. (This is even more hilarious to read back knowing like yEAH you're not wrong, but like, different context alkfnsaldkfd). Anyway, bold of anyone to assume Tyr actually had the courage to ask anyone. Did he look into this himself for answers? Who can say????? He sure won't.

I also think for like. At least half a hot minute Tyr kinda crushed on Vector. I've been slowly rotating this in the back of the mind since Tyr met Vector and was like "oh I like them" like, so fast. Tyr trusts him so fast - maybe too fast for being a Cipher, honestly. But also like, the whole complicated thing with feelings for Shara, later he falls absolutely in love with Theron, so... yeah, they ended up just being friends and Tyr never acted on this and, to this day, this is unacknowledged by both parties. And Tyr is, of course, happily married to Theron now.

Okay!!! Guild Wars mY WIFE time!!!! I'm love her...

21. Turning points in their life.

Okay, Letallia is still sort of coming together because I haven't finished everything yet, but what I do know came together surprisingly quickly! So, most of these events are primarily related to the first 30ish levels of personal quests.

Letallia is the oldest of twin siblings adopted by nobility and raised in Divinity's Reach; her and her brother never knew much about their birth parents and, of the two of them, Letallia was more okay with that. Her brother always wanted to unveil the mystery and find them, if they could, and this was something she never exactly discouraged, but she felt more close to the lives they were currently leaving and was relatively content to let the past be the past.

So, while they had their differences, they were overall thick as thieves (badumtss here bc her brother I have on theif, lol). Letallia primarily focused on the public appearances of the family - high society gatherings and dealings with the fellow nobility while her brother focused more on the common folk that served them, often to be found helping them with loose odds and ends.

So far, their two main galvanizing events have been discovering the history of their parents & joining the Orders of Tyria. Letallia chose the Vigil while her brother, always favoring the cloak and dagger type, joined the Order of Whispers. While they've had individual focuses before, separating paths to join the Orders is probably their first long-term departure from each others' sides. Letallia still collaborated with him where she could, though they each respected their allegiance to their Order and their secrets.

But! Igniting them onto such a path was the discovery that their parents spied for Queen Jennah's father. For Letallia, this reforged her desire to see, explore, and protect Tyria as a whole. She wishes to honor that legacy by striving for the unity she believes her parents fought and died for. Her brother took their deaths a bit harder, driven to stronger loyalty first and foremost to Kryta and their Queen. Ultimately, their motives may differ, but they strive for the same ultimate goal, which makes her relationship to her brother quite important to her.

This legacy also sort of solidifies her relationship with being a necromancer. The art can be unsettling, especially with the Risen so close at hand, but understanding is power and she believes all must live and serve in their own way. Meeting and befriending Trahearne also proves quite beneficial to this confidence. She quite enjoys working with him!

(Bonus fun fact, my google doc with all of this, inspired by that first post I think I did is called 'please don't store ur gw2 lore in tumblr tags' since it grew to be... more than I had anticipated when I started, lol)

[chanstasy]

TASTES LIKE HEAVEN

PAIRING han jisung x female!reader.

CONTENT smut, fluff, established relationship, soft dom!jisung, oral (f), slight hair pulling kink.

WORDCOUNT 3,0k.

DETAILS jisung helping his girlfriend discover her preferences in oral sex after a first failed attempt at eating her out.

NOTE i'm extremely grateful for the incredible feedback i had with my first post, i'm so happy to read so many compliments on my writing. i'll try to improve even more and create better quality fics. now it's turn for the hanji agenda !

© erotichan. translating and/or reposting is not allowed.

DISCLAIMER ( ! ) this is not intended to promote unprotected sexual practices or the security of not getting pregnant/not contracting STD. please don't take this as your comprehensive sex education. all facts and events are fictitious. the written scenes do not represent any real person nor do they plan to steal/falsify their identity. any coincidence with names and places is pure artistic creation by and for entertainment.

it's been weeks since that night where you felt the greatest shame of your life. there is a high chance that you are just exaggerating, but nothing can convince you that it didn't feel that way. no matter what you do now, every time you look at your boyfriend you can only see the sequence in which he tried to go down on you and found himself with your lamest excuse to stop him from doing so.

you don't even know what to say in your defense — you still felt too embarrassed to let it flow so naturally. how can you explain to jisung that despite having lost your virginity to him you still feel that oral sex is something very intimate? it makes you feel so anxious to think that someone is tasting you. you've imagined it plenty of times, and the moment it could have happened, you chickened out. in jisung's defense, there was not a single thought behind his eyes when you stopped him. you didn't want him to take the time to use his mouth and wanted him to go straight to bury himself inside you? perfect for him!

the truth is, a considerable amount of days have passed since the event. you've barely had time to see each other so the opportunities to have even the slightest intimacy were slim, but you knew since you got up in the morning and received a text from jisung saying that he would be in your place at night that it will be the night to give it a second try. you would never have put so much effort into shaving, exfoliating and perfuming if it wasn't like that. you knew.

you also know there is nothing to fear. jisung has been so gentle with you on the few occasions that you slept together, he genuinely wants to unwrap your sexuality little by little. he met you as an inexperienced and shy girl and he feels that he is corrupting you, so he takes it slow.

just the way you are now, pure and given up for him to touch, it's his favorite moment.

his hands run over your skin so warmly, his lips can't detach from yours. he laces your fingers with his, loving how you melt into the feeling of his mouth diving into yours. he enjoys foreplay too much, he has everything he likes at his disposal. your body, your vulnerability and the arousal erupting between your legs.

he's still understanding your body, that's the main reason he insists on delving into oral sex. when you do it it's great, of course, but jisung wants to learn too. he wants you to teach him, to show him how he can take such wonderful care of you and make you see stars as you have done with your mouth. he wants to see you shiver beneath him, gasping for air and choking on your words, unable to even formulate his name.

his knee presses between your legs, applying just enough pressure to make you whimper into his mouth. jisung pays attention to your movements and to your curious eyes when he draws his kisses towards your chest. he wants to take his time, he presses his lips to your jaw, to your neck, to your throat, to your chest, to your stomach, every inch that leads him to your core.

you can anticipate his target as his hands circle your hips, sliding to the outside of your thighs. your eyes turn a little unsure realizing what he's doing. unlike that first attempt, jisung moves much more cautiously. he has enough time between movements to notice the way you avoid eye contact with him ― which wouldn't be a problem if he didn't remember how you searched for his gaze to feel safe while he stretched you out.

he smiles softly. if there's one thing he knows how to do, it's joke around to ease the tension. and it always, always works. your eyes meet his, waiting for him to fire off his question.

"are you scared about this?" he whispers, sliding his hands around your thighs.

your legs close around his, showing that hesitation makes you even more vulnerable. you shake your head, knowing what you feel. "no, i'm not scared" you smile too, a little embarrassment peaking between words. "i'm just nervous."

he loves when you are honest with him in any kind of sexual and non-sexual situation. he loves that you can guide him to find exactly what to avoid or what to find to make you feel good. he holds himself into his arms, briefly giving up closeness with your sex so he can get closer to your face again.

"why are you nervous?" he asks in a sweet voice, hovering you. "what worries you, baby?"

"i feel like i'm worrying too much about it and it's actually not a big deal," you admit, wanting to sound as unhurtful as possible.

but jisung doesn't feel hurt because he knows that, although it largely depends on him, it also involves your own preferences. he laughs, pressing a small kiss to your lips. he must remain realistic. "probably. that will depend on you."

your hands run up his arms, keeping him close to your upper body. "will that be alright?" you ask, meeting his gaze. "i mean, if i don't like it, it's still fine, right?"

jisung presses another kiss, he focus on the way your lips move as you talk. "why wouldn't it be fine? do you think that all boys like to be given head?"

you widen your eyes, being quite obvious with your answer. "yes, that's the point!"

he giggles, forcing himself to bury his head in your shoulder. he understands your concern, but he also knows that you are just being pessimistic. "i know communication is key, but maybe you should talk less," he whispers into the crook of your neck. "you haven't let me do anything yet."

he's right, you think. your head clears of all those intruding thoughts as jisung presses his lips to your neck again. you wrap your hands around his waist, loving the warmth of his body on top of yours. he nibbles at the skin above your collarbones, plucking a small whine from your mouth. you start to get restless and that's a good sign for him.

his hands take a hold of your hips, he holds them in place once he decides to face your cunt again. he's progressive, crawling on the mattress until he can drop his weight comfortably onto his stomach and his hands anchor in your underwear. "is it new?" he asks, playing with the lingerie that he knows perfectly well you bought for this occasion. "dammit it's so pretty, i don't even want to take it off".

you can't find the words to answer, his fingers slide through your folds and leave you speechless. he knows exactly what he's doing with his thumb, dragging it over your underwear to test how sensitive you are. quite enough, judging by your legs that threaten to close one more time. jisung presses his lips to the inside of your thighs, making loud, chasty noises. his kisses are sticky, tickly. part of you wants to laugh but another part knows the laugh won't last long, and sure enough, it doesn't even come out of your mouth when jisung sighs directly to your core.

you look down at the sound and find him licking his lips. he is hungry, depraved, in need of you. fuck, it's happening, says the voice inside your head. you must admit that you do feel some kind of fear now. your eyes drift to jisung's hands as he tugs at the ends of your underwear, ripping it off and throwing it away despite complimenting it seconds ago. it's surely pretty, but it's prettier when it's out of his way.

you can assure nothing prepared you for this moment.

you've had your boyfriend's fingers close, even inside of you, but this is the first time jisung has parted your folds to take a long lick between them. your entire nervous system is caught off guard, the sensation is foreign — not to say strange. you flinch, it's a short and shivering reaction to his lips against your pussy. jisung doesn't give you a warning about what he's going to do, instead, he lets your body meet with the new sensations without explanation so you can assign your own meaning to it. he will not tell you that it has to feel a certain way because he has already done it with someone else, no, he lets you experience it and then designate it yourself. he surrounds your clit with his cushiony lips, pressing his tongue on it gently. he is determined, he knows precisely what he has to do but he does it subtly. you feel a heat, a humidity in an area that is not used to feeling that way.

"let me go slowly" he whispers right before he flicks his tongue and elicits a very obvious gasp from you, the subtlety of the contact that his tongue makes with your organ makes you desperate. this is maddening, it's the only thing that comes to your head. he dives in those small movements to suck firmly, causing your hips to buck this time. his right arm slides over your pelvis, pressing his palm against your lower stomach to prevent your reflexes from leading him to hurt you with his teeth. "relax, beautiful. i won't go anywhere until you cum".

so many incoherent curses slip from your lips, jisung can't quite make out what you're babbling but it sounds like music to his ears anyway. he exchanges his sucking with his licking and makes you feel the pleasure building torturously progressive. well, because that's the whole point.

"jisung—" you breathe out this time, unable to use a firme voice.

he doesn't take it as a call but as a request for more. jisung detaches his mouth from you, he takes advantage of how much his supplies make him salivate to drop a strand of saliva over your pussy. he spreads it with his fingers, he makes it messy before giving another long lick that only allows him to confirm his previous suspicions. "you taste so good, love".

your gut clenches at his comment, your cheeks start to feel hotter than before. your whole body is on fire.

you decide to raise your head to take a look without considering how dangerous it is. the image of jisung concentrating on taking everything he can ruins you. the way his jaw tightens as he sucks and his eyes close as he sinks into your taste blows your mind. there are no words to describe how lustful and sinful the scene in front of you is. your brow furrows, you feel so perverted for loving what you see.

there's something about the lovely noises you let out paired with the call of his name that fill the void of true words that let him know that he is doing good. he's doing amazing, actually. your hands slide over your chest, kneading your breasts to channel how restless you really are. jisung gives a particularly strong suck that makes one of your hands impulsively lower towards him. you retract it soon after, worried about what your fingers could do.

he feels the touch and how it disappears, and immediately grabs your wrist to bring your hand to his hair. "don't stop yourself," he insists, stroking your thigh. "let me know that i'm making you feel something, anything."

"i don't want to hurt you," you whisper, scared at the thought of pulling too hard on his hair or harhsly dragging your nails across his scalp.

jisung chuckles, he gently shakes his head to contradict you. "you won't, my love. you know i love the feel of your hands on me."

you don't need to be told twice. your fingers slide through the strands of his hair that are longer than usual, which allows you to take them with ease. both of your hands move them away from his face so they don't get in the way of his eyes. jisung looks up with the gesture, beaming at you with such a sweet smile in contrast to his actions.

he is so happy to eat you, he couldn't describe how pleased he is to have managed to bury his head between your legs. you can't help but whine at this, he just takes your breath away.

"does that feel good, angel?" he asks, knowing the answer is yes. you nod, you need to take advantage of the only moment your brain is working. you mutter a muffled "yes", because it does feel good, but is also feels like your walls are begging to have something inside.

jisung can tell your muscles are contracting, and it's so hard for him not to pleasure you with his fingers until you're shaking and coming around them. he frowns at his intrusive thoughts, trying not to ruin his own flow, and brings his hand up to your clit. he makes repeated, balanced circles with his thumb that make you tug on his hair. the pull sends waves of heat throughout his body ― he can't verbally admit that it turns him on, but the way his hips grind against the mattress speaks for him. his poor cock throbs in his pants with every little moan that comes out of your mouth.

your juices seep down your hole but they don't go far, jisung takes every little trace with his tongue. your hips become impossible to control, and he wraps his arms around your thighs to stop you. "so desperate, love. don't you know how to behave?"

you whimper, releasing your hold on his hair to rise up on your forearms. "it's not fair!" you whimper, feeling the build going nowhere because jisung keeps interrupting himself. "i need more than that!"

he lifts his head at your comment, a small pout forming on his lips as he pulls away from your cunt. you feel a frustrating pain after losing the pleasure. he just smiles like a bloody bastard. "what's the fun if i don't tease you?" jisung asks, digging the tips of his fingers into your thighs.

"but i was feeling close!" you protest.

he laughs ghoulishly ― you're so cute when you don't get what you want, jisung spoils you so much. he shakes his head, licking the excess of you from his lips. "you were worried it wouldn't be a big deal and i have you cumming in less than five minutes?" he teases you, clicking his tongue sarcastically. "come on, (name), you can do better than that".

"jisung!" you growl, throwing your head back. you can't believe he's doing this to you.

his laughter echoes in your ears, and you feel one of his hands loosen its grip on your thigh to grip one of yours. jisung slides his fingers between yours, lacing them together to get your attention. he can't be serious right now, you think as you lower your head to watch him, your chest rising and falling agitatedly. you make eye contact and witness the delicacy with which he plants a kiss on the back of your hand. your boyfriend never loses his manners.

"just tell me what you want" he insists, wanting to hear the exact words come out of your mouth even though you know he won't leave you unsatisfied. "you haven't said a single coherent word."

"i want you to continue where you were" you finally express yourself clearly. "you can't make me feel this good and leave it halfway!"

"you see? it's not that hard" he jokes around, loving the way you make his ego feel so big. "you know exactly what you like."

jisung once again separates your glistening folds with his free hand, and points his tongue directly at your abused bundle of nerves. he has so much control of his movements that you feel that the weak building from before is there again as if it had never faded, and with it, the warmth in your lower abdomen. you squeeze his hand, and then you feel him caress the back of it with his thumb. oh, there it is again.

you support your weight on your forearm, carefully observing the obscene actions. your head literally hangs to the side, your body loses all sense of balance and firmness. jisung's tongue turns you into sand that vanishes between his own fingers. your abdomen contracts with the feeling you fight against, and jisung pays attention to every detail. he looks up until he makes eye contact with you, and feels himself getting harder at the sight of your dilated pupils. your heavy breathing, your reddish cheeks, everything makes you look incredibly sexy from this angle.

he smirks, lips puffy and shiny. he comes across several things to say at that moment, but since you already complained about interrupting the moment and edging you, he keeps them to himself as he presses his tongue flat against you. you can still see the smile at the corners of his lips, and you feel your legs trembling with weakness. his free arm rests under your thigh, but still manages to reach a hand to the side of it to shoot your chills down. jisung feels the goosebumps on your skin and gets as excited as when he just got into the bed with you ― the realization that his actions make your hair stand on end sets off a warmth in his stomach that he can only describe as an obsession with you.

your fingers press the blankets under you into a fist, wrinkling the fabric. jisung can feel how tense you are, and he doesn't stop until he hears you gasp for air. your sounds turn into moans of his name even more incoherent than your babbling, and when he looks up, he can only see your extended neck thanks to your head being thrown back. you feel the waves of pleasure spread through your core, it's not overwhelming but it's not subtle either. it's just the right and necessary amount. of course, jisung doesn't find it enough, you can hear the exaggerated way he cleans up the mess you've made with leaks you didn't even know could come out of you.

the wonderful world of orgasms is still something as new to you as the overstimulation that jisung is putting you through. he gives another few licks to your abused clit, causing your nerves to send little shocks in an electrifying way. "ugh—hold on!" you whine with tight eyes, unconsciously closing your legs around his head.

oh, jisung could die there. but he certainly still wants to stay alive so he can enjoy how good you must feel. you're so wet and turned on, he can't wait another second to slide inside you.

you feel his arms parting your thighs and you open your eyes to watch his figure climbing on top of you once more. there is something inside you that feels lost, disoriented, and that makes you search for jisung's mouth to find your way again. he approaches your face with a smile, a mischievous one. even in the darkness of the room you can see how glossy his lips are. your hands follow his arms that surround your waist, enclosing you in them. his eyes fixate on your own lips and the way you let out your audible, ragged breath.

"i'm absolutely obsessed with you, (name)" he whispers over them. he presses his much more gently than you expected him to before speaking again. "you taste like heaven".

you feel short of breath but still you go back in search of his mouth. you let your tongue meet his until you have a taste of yourself, and confirm that indeed, it has been something worth experiencing. there's so much you want to try with jisung. your hands slide into his hair, feeling how warm his cheeks are along the way. he is burning for you ― you bite his lower lip, gently tugging on it until jisung presses his forehead against yours. his hips do much the same thing, grinding against yours. you smile exhaling a small laugh, a giggle that supports your fucked up gaze.

jisung grants you the eye contact, and he smiles just as dumb at the sound of your voice. "that was the sexiest thing you've done since we started dating" you state, not being aware of how wrong you are.

the smile on his lips turns into a cocky gesture, progressively morphing into a smug expression. his hands slide from your waist to your arms, taking your hands in his hair and trapping them above your head. he applies the slightest pressure, but he lets you know that you no longer have a choice but to keep giving all of yourself to him.

"oh no, angel. that was just your introduction to oral sex" he contradicts you, chuckling. "i still have to prepare you to meet the sexiest."

needless to say, you are more than ready to do so.

TAGLIST ( ! )

@lemonchannie @super-btstrash-posts @justamessofablog @seochhj @leiasfanaccount648 @cb097maze @helomaby



[missmentelle]

Why Smart People Believe Stupid Things

If you’ve been paying attention for the last couple of years, you might have noticed that the world has a bit of a misinformation problem. 

The problem isn’t just with the recent election conspiracies, either. The last couple of years has brought us the rise (and occasionally fall) of misinformation-based movements like:

Sandy Hook conspiracies

Gamergate

Pizzagate

The MRA/incel/MGTOW movements

anti-vaxxers

flat-earthers

the birther movement

the Illuminati 

climate change denial

Spygate

Holocaust denial 

COVID-19 denial 

5G panic 

QAnon 

But why do people believe this stuff?

It would be easy - too easy - to say that people fall for this stuff because they’re stupid. We all want to believe that smart people like us are immune from being taken in by deranged conspiracies. But it’s just not that simple. People from all walks of life are going down these rabbit holes - people with degrees and professional careers and rich lives have fallen for these theories, leaving their loved ones baffled. Decades-long relationships have splintered this year, as the number of people flocking to these conspiracies out of nowhere reaches a fever pitch. 

So why do smart people start believing some incredibly stupid things? It’s because:

Our brains are built to identify patterns. 

Our brains fucking love puzzles and patterns. This is a well-known phenomenon called apophenia, and at one point, it was probably helpful for our survival - the prehistoric human who noticed patterns in things like animal migration, plant life cycles and the movement of the stars was probably a lot more likely to survive than the human who couldn’t figure out how to use natural clues to navigate or find food. 

The problem, though, is that we can’t really turn this off. Even when we’re presented with completely random data, we’ll see patterns. We see patterns in everything, even when there’s no pattern there. This is why people see Jesus in a burnt piece of toast or get superstitious about hockey playoffs or insist on always playing at a certain slot machine - our brains look for patterns in the constant barrage of random information in our daily lives, and insist that those patterns are really there, even when they’re completely imagined. 

A lot of conspiracy theories have their roots in people making connections between things that aren’t really connected. The belief that “vaccines cause autism” was bolstered by the fact that the first recognizable symptoms of autism happen to appear at roughly the same time that children receive one of their rounds of childhood immunizations - the two things are completely unconnected, but our brains have a hard time letting go of the pattern they see there. Likewise, many people were quick to latch on to the fact that early maps of COVID infections were extremely similar to maps of 5G coverage -  the fact that there’s a reasonable explanation for this (major cities are more likely to have both high COVID cases AND 5G networks) doesn’t change the fact that our brains just really, really want to see a connection there. 

Our brains love proportionality. 

Specifically, our brains like effects to be directly proportional to their causes - in other words, we like it when big events have big causes, and small causes only lead to small events. It’s uncomfortable for us when the reverse is true. And so anytime we feel like a “big” event (celebrity death, global pandemic, your precious child is diagnosed with autism) has a small or unsatisfying cause (car accident, pandemics just sort of happen every few decades, people just get autism sometimes), we sometimes feel the need to start looking around for the bigger, more sinister, “true” cause of that event. 

Consider, for instance, the attempted assassination of Pope John Paul II. In 1981, Pope John Paul II was shot four times by a Turkish member of a known Italian paramilitary secret society who’d recently escaped from prison - on the surface, it seems like the sort of thing conspiracy theorists salivate over, seeing how it was an actual multinational conspiracy. But they never had much interest in the assassination attempt. Why? Because the Pope didn’t die. He recovered from his injuries and went right back to Pope-ing. The event didn’t have a serious outcome, and so people are content with the idea that one extremist carried it out. The death of Princess Diana, however, has been fertile ground for conspiracy theories; even though a woman dying in a car accident is less weird than a man being shot four times by a paid political assassin, her death has attracted more conspiracy theories because it had a bigger outcome. A princess dying in a car accident doesn’t feel big enough. It’s unsatisfying. We want such a monumentous moment in history to have a bigger, more interesting cause. 

These theories prey on pre-existing fear and anger. 

Are you a terrified new parent who wants the best for their child and feels anxious about having them injected with a substance you don’t totally understand? Congrats, you’re a prime target for the anti-vaccine movement. Are you a young white male who doesn’t like seeing more and more games aimed at women and minorities, and is worried that “your” gaming culture is being stolen from you? You might have been very interested in something called Gamergate. Are you a right-wing white person who worries that “your” country and way of life is being stolen by immigrants, non-Christians and coastal liberals? You’re going to love the “all left-wingers are Satantic pedo baby-eaters” messaging of QAnon. 

Misinformation and conspiracy theories are often aimed strategically at the anxieties and fears that people are already experiencing. No one likes being told that their fears are insane or irrational; it’s not hard to see why people gravitate towards communities that say “yes, you were right all along, and everyone who told you that you were nuts to be worried about this is just a dumb sheep. We believe you, and we have evidence that you were right along, right here.” Fear is a powerful motivator, and you can make people believe and do some pretty extreme things if you just keep telling them “yes, that thing you’re afraid of is true, but also it’s way worse than you could have ever imagined.”

Real information is often complicated, hard to understand, and inherently unsatisfying. 

The information that comes from the scientific community is often very frustrating for a layperson; we want science to have hard-and-fast answers, but it doesn’t. The closest you get to a straight answer is often “it depends” or “we don’t know, but we think X might be likely”. Understanding the results of a scientific study with any confidence requires knowing about sampling practices, error types, effect sizes, confidence intervals and publishing biases. Even asking a simple question like “is X bad for my child” will usually get you a complicated, uncertain answer - in most cases, it really just depends. Not understanding complex topics makes people afraid - it makes it hard to trust that they’re being given the right information, and that they’re making the right choices. 

Conspiracy theories and misinformation, on the other hand, are often simple, and they are certain. Vaccines bad. Natural things good. 5G bad. Organic food good. The reason girls won’t date you isn’t a complex combination of your social skills, hygiene, appearance, projected values, personal circumstances, degree of extroversion, luck and life phase - girls won’t date you because feminism is bad, and if we got rid of feminism you’d have a girlfriend. The reason Donald Trump was an unpopular president wasn’t a complex combination of his public bigotry, lack of decorum, lack of qualifications, open incompetence, nepotism, corruption, loss of soft power, refusal to uphold the basic responsibilities of his position or his constant lying - they hated him because he was fighting a secret sex cult and they’re all in it. 

Instead of making you feel stupid because you’re overwhelmed with complex information, expert opinions and uncertain advice, conspiracy theories make you feel smart - smarter, in fact, than everyone who doesn’t believe in them. And that’s a powerful thing for people living in a credential-heavy world. 

Many conspiracy theories are unfalsifiable. 

It is very difficult to prove a negative. If I tell you, for instance, that there’s no such thing as a purple swan, it would be very difficult for me to actually prove that to you - I could spend the rest of my life photographing swans and looking for swans and talking to people who know a lot about swans, and yet the slim possibility would still exist that there was a purple swan out there somewhere that I just hadn’t found yet. That’s why, in most circumstances, the burden of proof lies with the person making the extraordinary claim - if you tell me that purple swans exist, we should continue to assume that they don’t until you actually produce a purple swan. 

Conspiracy theories, however, are built so that it’s nearly impossible to “prove” them wrong. Is there any proof that the world’s top-ranking politicians and celebrities are all in a giant child sex trafficking cult? No. But can you prove that they aren’t in a child sex-trafficking cult? No, not really. Even if I, again, spent the rest of my life investigating celebrities and following celebrities and talking to people who know celebrities, I still couldn’t definitely prove that this cult doesn’t exist - there’s always a chance that the specific celebrities I’ve investigated just aren’t in the cult (but other ones are!) or that they’re hiding evidence of the cult even better than we think. Lack of evidence for a conspiracy theory is always treated as more evidence for the theory - we can’t find anything because this goes even higher up than we think! They’re even more sophisticated at hiding this than we thought! People deeply entrenched in these theories don’t even realize that they are stuck in a circular loop where everything seems to prove their theory right - they just see a mountain of “evidence” for their side. 

Our brains are very attached to information that we “learned” by ourselves.

Learning accurate information is not a particularly interactive or exciting experience. An expert or reliable source just presents the information to you in its entirety, you read or watch the information, and that’s the end of it. You can look for more information or look for clarification of something, but it’s a one-way street - the information is just laid out for you, you take what you need, end of story. 

Conspiracy theories, on the other hand, almost never show their hand all at once. They drop little breadcrumbs of information that slowly lead you where they want you to go. This is why conspiracy theorists are forever telling you to “do your research” - they know that if they tell you everything at once, you won’t believe them. Instead, they want you to indoctrinate yourself slowly over time, by taking the little hints they give you and running off to find or invent evidence that matches that clue. If I tell you that celebrities often wear symbols that identify them as part of a cult and that you should “do your research” about it, you can absolutely find evidence that substantiates my claim - there are literally millions of photos of celebrities out there, and anyone who looks hard enough is guaranteed to find common shapes, poses and themes that might just mean something (they don’t - eyes and triangles are incredibly common design elements, and if I took enough pictures of you, I could also “prove” that you also clearly display symbols that signal you’re in the cult). 

The fact that you “found” the evidence on your own, however, makes it more meaningful to you. We trust ourselves, and we trust that the patterns we uncover by ourselves are true. It doesn’t feel like you’re being fed misinformation - it feels like you’ve discovered an important truth that “they” didn’t want you to find, and you’ll hang onto that for dear life. 

Older people have not learned to be media-literate in a digital world. 

Fifty years ago, not just anyone could access popular media. All of this stuff had a huge barrier to entry - if you wanted to be on TV or be in the papers or have a radio show, you had to be a professional affiliated with a major media brand. Consumers didn’t have easy access to niche communities or alternative information - your sources of information were basically your local paper, the nightly news, and your morning radio show, and they all more or less agreed on the same set of facts. For decades, if it looked official and it appeared in print, you could probably trust that it was true. 

Of course, we live in a very different world today - today, any asshole can accumulate an audience of millions, even if they have no credentials and nothing they say is actually true (like “The Food Babe”, a blogger with no credentials in medicine, nutrition, health sciences, biology or chemistry who peddles health misinformation to the 3 million people who visit her blog every month). It’s very tough for older people (and some younger people) to get their heads around the fact that it’s very easy to create an “official-looking” news source, and that they can’t necessarily trust everything they find on the internet. When you combine that with a tendency toward “clickbait headlines” that often misrepresent the information in the article, you have a generation struggling to determine who they can trust in a media landscape that doesn’t at all resemble the media landscape they once knew. 

These beliefs become a part of someone’s identity. 

A person doesn’t tell you that they believe in anti-vaxx information - they tell you that they ARE an anti-vaxxer. Likewise, people will tell you that they ARE a flat-earther, a birther, or a Gamergater. By design, these beliefs are not meant to be something you have a casual relationship with, like your opinion of pizza toppings or how much you trust local weather forecasts - they are meant to form a core part of your identity. 

And once something becomes a core part of your identity, trying to make you stop believing it becomes almost impossible. Once we’ve formed an initial impression of something, facts just don’t change our minds. If you identify as an antivaxxer and I present evidence that disproves your beliefs, in your mind, I’m not correcting inaccurate information - I am launching a very personal attack against a core part of who you are. In fact, the more evidence I present, the more you will burrow down into your antivaxx beliefs, more confident than ever that you are right. Admitting that you are wrong about something that is important to you is painful, and your brain would prefer to simply deflect conflicting information rather than subject you to that pain.

We can see this at work with something called the confirmation bias. Simply put, once we believe something, our brains hold on to all evidence that that belief is true, and ignore evidence that it’s false. If I show you 100 articles that disprove your pet theory and 3 articles that confirm it, you’ll cling to those 3 articles and forget about the rest. Even if I show you nothing but articles that disprove your theory, you’ll likely go through them and pick out any ambiguous or conflicting information as evidence for “your side”, even if the conclusion of the article shows that you are wrong - our brains simply care about feeling right more than they care about what is actually true.  

There is a strong community aspect to these theories. 

There is no one quite as supportive or as understanding as a conspiracy theorist - provided, of course, that you believe in the same conspiracy theories that they do. People who start looking into these conspiracy theories are told that they aren’t crazy, and that their fears are totally valid. They’re told that the people in their lives who doubted them were just brainwashed sheep, but that they’ve finally found a community of people who get where they’re coming from. Whenever they report back to the group with the “evidence” they’ve found or the new elaborations on the conspiracy theory that they’ve been thinking of (“what if it’s even worse than we thought??”), they are given praise for their valuable contributions. These conspiracy groups often become important parts of people’s social networks - they can spend hours every day talking with like-minded people from these communities and sharing their ideas. 

Of course, the flipside of this is that anyone who starts to doubt or move away from the conspiracy immediately loses that community and social support. People who have broken away from antivaxx and QAnon often say that the hardest part of leaving was losing the community and friendships they’d built - not necessarily giving up on the theory itself. Many people are rejected by their real-life friends and family once they start to get entrenched in conspiracy theories; the friendships they build online in the course of researching these theories often become the only social supports they have left, and losing those supports means having no one to turn to at all. This is by design - the threat of losing your community has kept people trapped in abusive religious sects and cults for as long as those things have existed. 

[miraculouscontent]

titaniumgavel asked:

I can prove with a single sentence from the 'bible' that's absolute bunk and has no real relation to the writing of the show: "

✓ At all time, we must feel empathy with Marinette/Ladybug, understand and emotionally feel what she’s going through."

Oops, you’re right.

Everybody go home, this bible is a phony!

Anonymous asked:

Which episode synopsis disgusts you?

“Derision” with Marinette having panic attacks. I think it’s disgusting because other parts of the bible make it clear that knowing the root of the issue doesn’t really help at all.

Essentially, it looks like they’re going to use this for propping up Adrien for his “cutting off Chloe for good” moment while continuing to make fun of Marinette for what they literally call “trauma” in the bible.

And on the incredibly slim chance that they somehow stop humiliating Marinette after this (which it doesn’t look like judging from other summaries), then they’ll use the titular akuma (Dark Humor) and overall plot to essentially guilt us for ever laughing at Marinette’s misery (we never get but you get the point), as if everything they’d done to her up until now was intentionally framed the way it was for this moment.

Basically, no matter what happens, it’s not going to be good.

Anonymous asked:

ah, of course, let's give Marinette more unnecessary, never mentioned before this point, past trauma and add sudden pAnIc aTtAcKs for the sake of making her miserable. because, Of Course. (as if they didn't already make light of anxiety, they gotta come after panic attacks too and continuity will not apply so they will "resolve the issue" within one episode, I want to throw metaphorical hands)

Remember that one time where Astruc promoted/complimented someone’s masterpost about mental health in Miraculous (one post inside being about Marinette having ADHD), which gave off this feeling that Astruc’s been making a neurodivergent girl the punchline of every joke?

Feeling something extremely similar right now to what I was back then.

[phoenixyfriend]

Anakin Introduces his Jedi Babies (and Himself)

Context:  Anakin and the Jedi Babies, chrono

Warnings for: canon-typical dismemberment, unfortunately-aimed puppy crushes

Word count: 5,839

-------------------------

The first time a Jedi meets a Skywalker, it’s on Bandomeer.

The planet is close to Mandalorian space. Finding someone associated with Mandalore is, technically, not that surprising. There are even Mandalorian operations on the planet.

What is surprising is the fact that the person from Mandalorian space is an unfamiliar Jedi Knight who is utterly unstoppable.

(Obi-Wan Kenobi has no way of knowing how similar his experiences are to what might have been, on this planet. Mandalore has been interfering in operations here ever since Ylliben Skywalker started reporting visions about the coming catastrophe. Where that interference has helped or hurt... well. There’s no way to know.)

(Is there?)

When Xanatos shows up and starts taunting Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon, there’s a giggle from the doorway.

All three have to turn to look at the individual in question.

Mid-twenties, leaning against the doorframe, slim but strong, covered in dark fabric and half a set of armor. A scar by one eye, well-kept hair, and a smirk that could burn the longest fuse. A lightsaber, unlit, in one gloved hand.

This man is... very attractive, Obi-Wan thinks. This is not an appropriate thought for the situation. Obi-Wan thinks he can maybe blame it on the exhaustion.

“No, no, keep going,” the stranger says, sounding like there’s a laugh stuck in his throat. He waves dismissively. “Let’s, ah, let’s hear the master plan. Good ranting voice, maybe a six out of ten on the ‘I’m better than you’ and a four on the actual intimidation. You can do better.”

“Excuse me?” Xanatos hisses, sounding incredibly malicious to Obi-Wan’s ears. “Just who do you think you are?”

“And now you’re overselling it,” the stranger sighs. “Are you new at this? You seem new at this.”

“I would... also like to know who you are,” Master Jinn admits, shifting uncertainly as he tries to keep both du Crion and the stranger in his sights.

“I’m just your friendly neighborhood Jedi Knight, here to fight darksiders because... that’s my life, apparently,” the man says, looking down at his arm for some reason. He shakes his head and looks up at them with a bright grin. “Do you need some help, Master Jinn?”

“You still haven’t told us your name.”

“This is true,” the knight says. “That said, I’ve been told by my boss to explicitly avoid naming myself while on this mission for a variety of reasons.”

“Your... boss,” du Crion drawls. “Not the Council, then.”

“Current supervisor,” the stranger offers as correction, completely unconcerned. “It’s a complicated situation, don’t worry about it.”

“I don’t worry about nonentities.”

The man purses his lips like he’s trying very, very hard not to laugh again. It’s very mocking. “Sure, kid.”

Xanatos has had his lightsaber out ever since Obi-Wan and Master Jinn entered the room, but he does one of those fancy, meant-to-be-intimidating one-handed saber twirls as he turns to face the Knight.

The man’s smirk widens. “You do realize you’re going to lose, right? C’mon, kid--”

“I’m older than you!”

“I did like zero research on you as a person, just your many and varied crimes; how old are you?”

Du Crion’s face goes pinched. “I’m twenty-five.”

“Ah, yeah, no, I’m older,” the knight says. “Only a few years, but I’m also a delightfully obnoxious little bastard who ages real slow for, uh, reasons--”

Obi-Wan is fascinated. This man is very strange. And very pretty.

Obi-Wan may be light-headed. Is he bleeding? Blood loss would explain this.

Obi-Wan isn’t bleeding. Damn.

“--anyway, I’m sure I’ve got a more interesting life with more mature experiences than you,” the knight says. “So even if I wasn’t older in body, I’d be older in spirit.”

The knight’s entire sense of being carries such an air of banthashit that Obi-Wan can barely believe it. It’s almost impressive. Obi-Wan wonders how often this man just opens his mouth and immediately gets punched in the face.

“You talk a lot for a man in someone else’s domain.”

“Hey, look on the bright side,” the knight says. “At least I’m not flirting with you. That’s what my master did with almost every darksider we met except his grandmaster.”

Du Crion pauses.

Obi-Wan has the distinct feeling that he and Master Jinn have lost any control they might have, at any point, had over this situation. They hadn’t had much control in the first place, but anything they did have is squarely in the stranger’s court right now. The silver lining to that is that du Crion is thoroughly distracted and has also lost some control of the situation.

“Besides,” the man continues, completely ignoring the very red lightsaber that is being very obviously readied for his death. “This is not that big of an advantage for you. I mean, hey, the fancy central console that can only be reached by skinny walkways with no railings are a nice touch, all chromed metal and minimal lighting, very dramatic, but there’s no lava. I’m not, like, chained to a rock in the middle of an arena for a public execution at the hands of starving animals the size of a fighter ship. You’re threatening to kill me personally instead of standing in the most expensive box of the theater, sipping your wine and congratulating yourself on step one of a plan that has another fifty-thousand steps and no end in sight. You--”

“Is there a point to this?”

“I’m just saying, I’ve been in worse situations by better darksiders than you. This is sad. You’re sad. Try harder.”

Obi-Wan makes a little noise in the back of his throat. Nobody seems to notice, but Master Jinn does put a hand on his shoulder. That’s nice.

“I don’t have any interest in setting up a public execution.”

“What kind of a Sith wannabe are you?” the knight asks, tilting his head. Obi-Wan distantly notes that his hair is longer than initially assumed; it’s just held back and curled. “Public executions are a whole thing. It’s like you’re not even trying. Tell me you’ve at least got vague plans to hand me off to a pirates instead of killing me so you can make some comment about me not even being worth the effort.”

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” du Crion asks, his voice the kind of forced casual level nonsense that shows he’s actually very, very frustrated. Obi-Wan could almost believe that du Crion is as uninterested as he’s pretending to be.

“If I was trying to get myself killed, I’d... pick a fight with the Trade Federation, maybe? I mean, I survived that when I was nine but they’d probably take me more seriously this time.” The knight taps at his chin. “I don’t even know where the actual Sith is, but--”

“There are no more Sith,” du Crion scoffs.

Oh, the knight looks pitying now. Obi-Wan likes that much more than he should. It just really suits the man’s face.

Quin’s going to make so much fun of him later.

“I have fought multiple Sith,” the man says, slowly and clearly, as though explaining something to a child. “My master fought more than that. I lost my arm to a Sith when I was nineteen. You can say they’re gone, but I don’t trust like that.”

“It’s not a matter of trust,” du Crion says, rolling his eyes. “It has been a thousand years since the Sith were wiped out. Much as I’d like them to still be around, I’m not going to--”

“Oh!” the knight exclaims. “You’re lying! You do think they’re back, this whole mess is you auditioning.”

Du Crion stares at the man as though he’s lost what few marbles he had. “Excuse me?”

“You want to be the next Sith Apprentice,” the man says, cheerfully unconcerned by the mounting tension in the air. “That’s adorable. Well, no, actually, it’s very bad, both for you and for everyone else, and now it means I can’t just kill you in battle like I was planning because the Jedi are going to need you for information. Blast.”

Du Crion’s eyes widen. It is not in fear, but in incredulity. Obi-Wan thinks that it’s all in the eyebrows and the tight, befuddled smile. “You were planning to kill me, Jedi?”

“I mean... yeah, kinda,” the knight says, shrugging. “Quick and clean option, that.”

This time, Master Jinn is the one that makes a disbelieving noise that both of the bitchy twenty-somethings ignore.

“You’re a Jedi,” du Crion points out, entirely pleasant.

“...yes,” the man says, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “Technically.”

Du Crion is very much distracted by this. “Technically?”

The man wiggles a hand. “Arguments can be made. I certainly was trained as a Jedi and consider myself to be one. My knighting was according to protocol, and at the Temple. Technically.”

“...but?” Master Jinn prompts.

The knight smiles like he’s got something very spicy in his mouth and is unwilling to admit it’s too much for him. “But nothing! Don’t worry about it. There’s a fight to be had with a Sith wannabe who doesn’t realize he’s not going to measure up.”

“Arrogant,” du Crion accuses.

“No,” the knight immediately says. “You just don’t fight a galactic war without learning which opponents are actually going to kill you.”

Obi-Wan leans into Master Jinn’s side, his legs feeling a little too much like jelly. He whispers, “I have so many questions.”

“As do I, Padawan,” Master Jinn mutters back, and something in Obi-Wan’s heart twists. He’s a padawan! Master Jinn’s actually going to go through with it!

The fight does actually happen, at that point. The knight lights his saber and leaps forward, flashing through Djem So movements without a moment’s hesitation. For all the trash talk and boasting, the fight isn’t actually over very quickly. Du Crion is good, even without having had a chance to spar against a real person since he left the Order. Power flows around him, dark and heavy and sharp in ways that the Force usually isn’t, and the red saber snaps through the air with a speed Obi-Wan can barely track. Xanatos du Crion is, without question, danger incarnate in this moment.

The unknown knight is better.

There are attempts at banter, mostly by the stranger. Du Crion is too focused on the fight to bother responding. Obi-Wan just clings to Master Jinn, trying to stay awake and aware. It’s difficult, given the past few days, and even with help from the Force, he’s flagging.

The way the knight moves is... captivating, though.

(Quinlan’s going to laugh at the top of his lungs, later. Obi-Wan’s going to blush and stutter and bury his face in a pillow, and Bant’s going to pat his back like the amazing friend she is, and Quin’s just going to laugh, like an asshole.)

The fight doesn’t end cleanly. The knight cuts du Crion’s saber in half and, in the same movement, cuts the man’s hand off.

Obi-Wan’s seen too much blood in the last few days for it to shock him, but the smell is... unpleasant.

“I don’t suppose either of you carries Force-nullifying cuffs?” the knight asks, holding his saber to du Crion’s neck with an expression that is amused and satisfied in equal measure.

“No,” Master Jinn says. He seems... very bothered. Well, du Crion was his student once. Obi-Wan can’t imagine he’d be very calm if he had a student that went dark and started killing children. “Was cutting off his hand really necessary?”

“I feel like half my fights end with either someone dying or someone losing a limb,” the knight muses. “Sometimes that limb is my own, even!”

Obi-Wan isn’t sure if the man is manic or just trying to throw them off their rhythm. It probably doesn’t matter.

“Okay, I have Force-nullifying cuffs of my own,” the man says. “But these things are expensive as hell, and they weren’t paid for by the Order, so just giving them to you isn’t really on the table. That said... my ship kind of got shot down on the way here. If you could give me a ride off-planet--”

“Our ship was also shot down.”

The knight blinks at him, and then kicks du Crion in the hamstring. It’s not a very hard kick, but du Crion shoots him a look of offense that’s probably justified. Getting kicked when one is already down is never a great feeling.

“Stop shooting people,” the knight scolds.

Obi-Wan feels vaguely like he’s having a fever dream.

“Okay, new plan,” the man says. “What kind of ship did you come in?”

“KYL-3400 small transport,” Master Jinn says, with not a little hesitation. “Why?”

The knight grins. “I’m going to cannibalize it for parts.”

-------------------------

Jango has known Anakin Skywalker for six years. Many of those years have been spent being yanked into babysitting for the man. For reasons Jango doesn’t feel like examining, this will likely continue.

“You’re late,” he says, as the man in question stumbles out of a battered ship that looks only barely like the one that left three months ago. “I thought you said Bandomeer was a quick fix.”

“Ship got shot down, had to help some Jedi, ran into fucking Onaka on the way back,” Skywalker grouses. “I feel like shit. Where are my kids?”

“Buir says you have to go to medical.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever. My kids, Jango.”

“They can visit you in medical.”

“And, what, Mereel’s gonna go there for a debrief?”

“Your debrief is going through me,” Jango says, and doesn’t let himself flinch when Skywalker makes a face. “He’ll check in later.”

“Yeah, no,” Skywalker says, taking a step forward and then swaying with a curse. “Listen, this actually does need to go to Mand’alor direct, not just the Alor-in-training--”

“Please don’t do that with my language,” Jango immediately says. “That’s not--no. ‘Alor-in-training’ isn’t a thing. Don’t do that.”

Skywalker turns on his heel with a frustrated snarl, and Jango’s eyes widen as the stupid tunics the man wears flare out.

“Is that a blaster wound?”

“No.”

“Yes it--for fuck’s sake, Skywalker!” Jango growls and just goes over to grab the taller man by the shoulders and march him to medical. “I’m calling your sister.”

“Don’t tell Shmi, she’s got enough to--”

“I’m calling your sister,” Jango snaps. “And you’re going to deal with it. Ka’ra, do you even think? Is there a brain in that head of yours?”

“I’ve been told my braincell is lonely.”

“I’m going to shove you in a trash compactor, dikut’la jetii,” Jango mutters. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“If I say yes, will you let me go deal with it on my own?”

Jango strangles his own scream and shoves Skywalker into the nearest examination room. “Fix him!”

The medic looks up, raises a brow, and turns to Skywalker. “What did you do?”

“What didn’t I do?” Skywalker shoots back, grinning like they’re sharing battle stories over a drink in a cantina.

The medic--Mirka’lu, he thinks--crosses her arms. “General.”

Oh man, the medics must be angry with him already if they’re already jumping titles like that.

“I’m just a knight--”

“General Skywalker.”

The man in question grimaces. “I maybe got shot during an altercation with some pirates.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And... I maybe--maybe--picked a fight with some Hutt enforcers.”

Jango’s going to wring his neck.

Right after he calls Shmi.

-------------------------

Komari does her level best to not shift nervously under the judgmental eyes of the man they’re pretty sure is the Mand’alor. Her master’s got the situation under control. She’s just there to observe. They’ve got an entire team--

“Is that your way of telling me that your Order did minimal research on the situation before coming to intervene, and the only reason you bothered to reach out is because one of my men, weeks ago, let you know that Death Watch is setting traps for both my people and yours?”

Komari feels the flare of annoyance from Master Dooku. She doesn’t react, but she can hear the tension when her Master speaks.

“I assure we would not have attacked on Galidraan unless attacked first, or if we’d found solid evidence of the actions we were informed of,” Master Dooku says, quiet and even. “All your messenger did was save us all a little time.”

Mereel smiles thinly. “Saved us all some lives, more like it.”

“Perhaps.”

“Ah, jetiise aren’t the only ones with Force-Sensitives,” the Mand’alor says. “I’ve more than a few under my command. Visions aren’t foolproof, I’m aware, but I’ll be damned if such a warning goes completely ignored.”

Master Dooku makes a low humming noise. “Be that as it may, I’m unsure of what it is that you’re expecting out of our... presence. We are not here to help you claim your presumed throne. We are only here to stop the killings we were told about.”

“I don’t need your help to reunite my people.” Mereel waves a hand, batting the mere suggestion away. “But I’d appreciate the help with taking out the terrorist group that’s actually going out and murdering the helpless, this planet’s farmers and doctors and children. Kyr’tsad isn’t just a thorn in my side, Master Jedi.”

“And what proof do I have that you aren’t just the same kind of monster as you claim they are?” Master Dooku challenges.

It’s a little brazen, considering how dicey these negotiations are. For all that Komari herself doesn’t wince, someone behind her outright hisses in dismay. She agrees with the sentiment.

Mereel just laughs at them. He catches the eye of one of the armored individuals along the wall, human or close to it, and nods to himself.

“Right,” the man says. “Well, we have our own Jedi. Would you like to meet him?”

Master Dooku is immobile, as if carved from stone. The rest of the group is... not.

“I suppose that would be acceptable,” Master Dooku says, and Komari feels the tension in him wind further through the training bond. There are a million questions to be had here. None of them can be answered without the supposed Jedi.

“Great,” the Mand’alor says. He leans back in his seat and turns to the door. With the press of a button, the door slides open. “Ben!”

A child darts into the room, stops, and bounces on their feet. Probably male, Komari thinks, and very anxious. The child’s eyes dart about the room, taking in every single Jedi in sight. When that gaze lands on Master Dooku, there’s a flash of recognition and... not hate, but distaste. Confused and distant dismay, maybe. The child turns back to Mereel.

“Mand’alor,” the child greets, still bouncing. “Am I needed?”

“Thought I told you this meeting was for grown-ups,” the Mand’alor says.

Ben shrugs. “I wanted to listen in.”

“That door is soundproofed and you know it.”

“So?”

The Mand’alor grins. “Do me a favor and go fetch your dad.”

“Buir’s still sleeping,” Ben says, grave as dirt. It’s a strange expression for such a small child. He can’t be older than eight, and Komari’s pretty sure even that’s a stretch. “Shmi’s gonna be mad if he has to wake up before the bacta’s done.”

“I just need him for negotiations,” Mereel assures the child.

“Aggressive negotiations with a lightsaber?” Ben asks, and Komari nearly chokes.

“No, just regular ones.”

Ben nods sharply, and then turns and runs out.

“That boy...” Mereel mutters, but it’s fond. “Anywa--”

“BUIR!” Ben’s voice echoes from the hall, faint but audible, along with some very loud banging on what is presumably a door. “DAD! WAKE UP, THE COUNT IS HERE!”

The Count? Komari wonders. Even Master Dooku seems surprised.

The question is clearly on more minds than just her own. Mereel raises a brow at Master Dooku and gestures vaguely. “Didn’t know any of you were nobility. You a Count, Master Jedi?”

“No,” Master Dooku says, and before the Mand’alor can press further, he adds, “but if I were to retire from the Order, the title would be mine to inherit. As I have no intentions of retiring, I am not and will not be a Count, but I assume that is what the child is referring to.”

“Ben,” the Mand’alor corrects. He seems pleased with the reasonable answer. “Ylliben Skywalker. I suggest you refer to him by name.”

“You have a fondness for him,” Master Dooku notes.

Mereel shrugs. “No more than any other child, objectively, but his father is one of my more effective allies, and he gets antsy about things. Saying ‘your child’ won’t be a problem, but ‘the child’ is... well.”

The smirk is a challenge that Komari doesn’t feel ready to meet. She’s glad it’s not hers to handle.

“Why do you ‘have’ a Jedi?” Master Dooku asks, pushing the conversation back to the point Komari’s sure he was initially aiming for.

“Found him in a snowstorm, brought him inside,” Mereel says, grinning. “And then he refused to leave, the shabuir. Troublesome man, like you wouldn’t believe, but useful.”

“Like a feral tooka,” someone behind Komari mutters. She feels a part of her soul die.

You can’t just say that in front of the Mand’alor! she screeches in the depths of her mind, despairing.

“Exactly,” Mereel agrees with a laugh. “Skywalker’s a feral tooka.”

Komari dies a little more.

“Talkin’ shit about me, Mereel?”

...oh no.

This one’s pretty.

The man is tall, dressed almost entirely in black, and looks like shit.

“You look like you got run over by a herd of bantha,” the Mand’alor notes.

“I got back less than a day ago,” Skywalker growls out. He leans against the wall behind the Mand’alor’s desk. He folds his arms. He glowers around the room. “The kriff is Count Dooku doing here?”

“Master Dooku,” the man in question says, a little pained. “As I informed Mand’alor Mereel, I may technically have claim to that title, but I am a Jedi. So long as I remain a Jedi, the title isn’t actually mine.”

Skywalker makes a face, and then shakes his head. “Fine. Whatever. Jaster, what the hell do you need from me?”

“Well, some manners would be nice.”

“I got shot and am putting myself in a position to get yelled at by baar’ur Mirka’lu for coming here when I’m supposed to be on bed rest,” Skywalker growls out. He kicks Mereel’s chair, glaring at the back of the man’s head. “You’re lucky I put on pants.”

Mereel seems unbothered by this statement or treatment.

Komari thinks her eyes may currently be the size of dinner plates.

“You’re the one from Bandomeer.”

Skywalker’s head snaps up to focus his gaze on Master Dooku. “Say what?”

“You’re the one my former Padawan encountered on Bandomeer,” Master Dooku says, something satisfied in his tone. “He said you refused to give a name, but the physical description does match.”

“Oh, lovely, Jinn’s been gossiping,” Skywalker mutters. “That’s just--”

“General Skywalker,” Mereel says, voice finally slipping to something more stern than amused. “If you could please focus.”

Skywalker rolls his eyes and mutters something about painkillers.

“Buir?”

Skywalker’s head tilts to the side, and he holds one arm out to the side. The kid from before--Ben--darts in to cling to the man’s side. A slightly taller Togruta follows in and ducks in under his other arm. Both children keep a wary gaze fixed on the same person, and their adult...

Every look from this man is a new challenge to Master Dooku.

“They’re yours?”

That is the exact question Komari was hoping her master wouldn’t ask.

“We’re in Mandalorian territory,” Skywalker says. “They’re Force-Sensitive orphans with an incredible amount of potential. If I didn’t claim them, someone else would have.”

It’s not an airtight justification--the man could have just sent them to the Temple--but the air around him is roiling with aggression. This man does not like Master Dooku, and is more than a shade protective of these--his--children. Komari shifts her weight and worries as the pregnant silence grows heavier.

“As you say,” Master Dooku allows, and some of the bowstring-tight tension in the room loosens, drains away like foul bathwater. “If I may... I was unaware you were a General, nor that Mandalore had a standing army large enough for such a position.”

“He’s not,” Mereel says. “Used to be, won’t tell me where. It’s not my business, or yours. Title’s a holdover from whatever war he was fighting before we got him.”

Komari is not the only person whose heart drops as Master Dooku says, “Qui-Gon claimed that the rogue knight he’d met on Bandomeer mentioned a galactic war against the Sith.”

Mereel blinks, and then turns his seat around to look at Skywalker. The other Mandalorians look at Skywalker. Every single Jedi also looks at Skywalker.

The Togruta child sticks her tongue out at Master Dooku.

“I did say that,” Skywalker says. “What of it?”

“You know, when I said I didn’t care what fight you were running that turned you into a soldier, I kind of assumed it was something on the level of, say, a system-wide civil war,” Mereel drawls. “Not galactic Force nonsense.”

Skywalker shrugs. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.”

“Because you’ll lie?”

“No, I’m just going to be really annoying about it,” Skywalker tells him. The Togruta giggles and shoves her face into his side. “Or, hell, I’ll let Ben do it. We both know he can talk circles around basically everyone in this room.”

“Skywalker.”

“Mereel.”

The two hold gazes for a moment that lasts just a little too long, and then Mereel breaks it off. “We’re talking about this later.”

“Of course, Mand’alor,” Skywalker says, with a grim sort of smile. “Wouldn’t dream of doing otherwise.”

Mereel doesn’t seem particularly impressed by that.

Komari wonders if anyone else remembers that Skywalker was supposed to be here to make negotiations easier.

-------------------------

Yan Dooku is having a Day.

He’s not entirely sure whom to blame for this mess. Perhaps Yoda, for suggesting he handle this mission. Perhaps the governor of Galidraan, who decided collaborating with terrorists for his own gain was a good idea. Perhaps Jaster Mereel, whose influence and power is enough that Yan needs to tread carefully. Perhaps Qui-Gon, for giving him just enough information about Skywalker to cause some drama.

Perhaps Skywalker for being a recalcitrant, ornery bastard who delights in Yan’s suffering.

(One of the Mandalorians calls him that to his face, and Skywalker informs the man that “my mother always told me I didn’t have a father,” and stares until the Mando stammers out an apology and turns on his heel.)

(The smirk on Skywalker’s face is certainly informative.)

“Hi.”

Yan looks up from the datapad he’s been using to try and punch out a report, for all that he can’t find the words he needs, and sees the Togruta youngling from Skywalker’s side hanging upside-down from a ventilation grate.

He blinks evenly at her. “Good afternoon. Is that your normal manner of traversing the building?”

“Yeah, when Jan-Jan isn’t yelling at me about it,” she says, and drops from the ceiling. Seemingly without paying attention, she directs the grate itself back into place with the Force, screws reattaching themselves with only the slightest whisper. She’s done this many, many times.

“I’m afraid I don’t know who that is.”

“Jango Fett,” she clarifies. “Ad be Mand’alor.”

Child of the king.

He does remember that much from the briefing.

“I see,” Yan says, rather than try to tackle whatever the usage of such a nickname implies. “I’m afraid nobody’s seen fit to introduce you, youngling.”

“I’m Sokanth Skywalker, but most people call me Soka,” she says, with a bouncing, shallow bow. Full of energy, this one. “I’m eight.”

“The General is your father, then?”

“Mm-hm! He adopted me when I was almost two,” she says, and climbs up onto the bench. She wraps her arms around her knees and beams up. “Ben was still a baby, and we didn’t go get Shmi until a few months later when Skyguy could afford it.”

“Skyguy?” Yan prompts.

“My dad,” she explains, head tilting a little as she studies his reaction. “I... I’ve always called him Skyguy. He took care of me before he adopted me, for at least a year. He says I called him Skyguy when I first started talking, back then, and then he didn’t make me stop when he adopted me.”

“I see,” Yan says. “Does your father know you’re speaking with me?”

“Probably.”

“And would he approve?” Yan hints as heavily as he can. “He doesn’t seem to like me very much.”

“That’s because we’ve all seen what you could be,” she says. “But you’re not the Count yet, so it’s okay.”

Information. “Ah. Visions, then. That would explain some things.”

“Ben gets them the most,” she keeps talking. “But it’s not just that. It’s like... patterns. The Sith are going to target you, because they’re going to think you’re worth corrupting.”

“And you’ve seen enough Sith to know that?”

“Yeah.”

“Visions are not foolproof,” he says, trying to keep his tone gentle. He’s not used to interacting with children of this age, and this one comes with a father in the Mand’alor’s confidence, someone he can’t afford to irritate by making a daughter cry. “I have a friend who is very prone to visions, and some come true, some don’t, and others--”

“Are self-fulfilling,” Sokanth finishes for him. “I know that. But my dad’s actually fought Sith, y’know. The guy who cut off my dad’s arm used to be a Jedi Master, like you, and he was all fancy-schmancy and a history nerd for Sith stuff, and didn’t like the Council or their decisions very much. Like you.”

That’s... very personal.

“A surface-level similarity is not enough to make the claim that I am to become a Sith,” he says.

She blinks at him, eyes too large for a face that’s so near to human in bone-structure. It’s unnerving. “Whether or not you Fall is your choice, Count. All I can tell you is that you are the kind of person they look to groom... if only as a pawn.”

The words are too old for a girl her size.

“You speak as if you’ve faced the Sith yourself,” Yan says, well aware now that he needs to tread carefully, but... “You’re too young to go out into the field. I can’t imagine your father would allow a child like yourself to go up against someone that dangerous.”

She blinks those too large eyes, and tilts her head in the other direction, and then smiles. “You care. That’s good. Keep that compassion, Count.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I feel like you’re evading the question.”

Sokanth giggles. “Maybe. Buir doesn’t like us talking about it much. It makes him sad, ‘cuz he can’t help us not hurt, and a lot of it is really scary. It’s like... my memories are too big for my head. I don’t get a lot of visions, but I get a lot of dreams of things that happened that I’m not alive for. And buir does remember those things happening, so it’s true, and it happened, but I only... sort of remember it, and when I think about it too hard, it hurts my head. Or I get nightmares about it, and I don’t like those. Ben’s got it worse, though. He has more to fight.”

It’s a lot of information.

It’s confusing information.

It’s... possibly information that the General has asked her to feed him for reasons he can’t even begin to guess at.

“In this war your father fought,” Yan asks, “were you a soldier as well?”

“Commander,” she corrects, voice soft. “That’s what the dreams call me, before they start screaming.”

“How old are you really?” He asks, before he can quite stop himself.

She laughs, suddenly bright again. “I’m as old as I look. I’m eight. Just because the Force gives me memories I shouldn’t have doesn’t mean that my brain isn’t a kid. Sometimes Ben tries to act older than he is ‘cuz of the memories, y’know. Buir gets sad whenever he does that, ‘cuz he thinks we deserve to be kids before the galaxy goes to hell again.”

“He’s sure of such a thing?”

“It always does,” she says, with the air of someone who isn’t sure how their conversation partner could be quite that dense. Her voice takes on a sing-song cadence, like she’s telling a fable instead of a philosophy. “War always comes eventually. Not every sentient is selfish, but enough are, and they tend to be the ones that claw their way to the top. The rich and powerful will take and take and take, and then, when there’s nothing left, they will use their living stepping stones to tear each other apart. All we can do is be ready to end it as quickly as possible once it comes.”

Yan lets the claim sit for a long, quiet minute. “Did your father tell you that?”

“No,” she says. “Ben did.”

The six-year-old.

“He has a way with words,” Yan manages.

“Sometimes he uses his stuffed animals to host courtroom dramas,” she says. “He makes me look up the right laws so it can be procedurally accurate, ‘cuz he’s a nerd but so am I, and it makes Skyguy happy when he sees us playing like that instead of just doing saber forms and stuff.”

Yan has... no idea what to do with that. “I wouldn’t normally call courtroom dramas a normal children’s activity.”

“Yeah, but Ben’s a nerd,” she says, as if that’s all that needs to be said. Maybe, for her, it is. “And there’s only so much time I’m allowed to spend hunting.”

Right. Togruta.

“And what was your father doing at that age?”

“I’m not allowed to talk about that,” she says immediately. “Because it’s very private and he and Shmi get upset if we bring it up, ‘cuz of trauma and stuff.”

Shmi. The... sister, he thinks. People seem to be unclear on that. He’s heard a few refer to the teenager as just “one of Skywalker’s,” so that’s something to consider. She’s near-perfectly halfway between the children and the General, in terms of age, so it’s a little ambiguous where she fits.

That said, he’s been in a lot of places in his time as a Jedi Master. It’s taken him a little longer than it should have to realize, but he thinks he’s got at least part of the puzzle.

Skywalker’s a slave name. Tatooine, specifically.

It’s not confirmation, really, but...

Well. He thinks it’s better he doesn’t dig, on that subject.

“Hey,” Sokanth says, tugging at his sleeve. “Can I ask ya something?”

“I cannot promise an answer, but you may ask.”

“Can you spar with Skyguy? I wanna see who wins.”

[starryevermore]

yes daddy ✧ lee bodecker

masterlist

pairing: lee bodecker x reader

request: i have a fic request for lee :) so you are a constant troublemaker and lee is always the one to arrest/talk to and he has taken a liking in you and gives you a chance to get your act together:) - @rebelemilu

summary: lee makes sure you learn your lesson.

word count: 1,091

warnings?: spanking, reader is a bit of a brat, lee is controlling and has to get his way, daddy kink

It wasn’t that you liked causing trouble. Well, okay, you kind of did. You liked your fair amount of mischief. Life in Knockemstiff was just too boring to follow the rules. You didn’t like having to be a perfect little lady who had to search for a perfect husband, all big and strong. You liked having fun, but your choices were already so slim if you chose to follow the rules. So if that meant going out drinking with your friends every once in a while or sneaking candy in your pockets when you browsed the grocery store while you picked stuff up for you mama, well, then that’s what it took. But the real reason, though, that you liked getting into trouble was the very person who would be forced to reprimand you every single time you made a trip down to the sheriff’s station.

Sheriff Lee Bodecker, while new in his position was incredibly...dedicated in following the letter of the law. Every time you ended up at the station, he always took you back to his office and explained to you(r breasts) that you needed to get your act together if you were to find a good husband. And every time, you’d reach over and pluck a sucker from his candy dish, sucking on the sweet candy as you pretended to listen, reveling in how he’d begin to stumble over his words and how his Adam’s apple would begin to bob up and down. Then he’d give you some thinly veiled threat (promise?) of teaching you a lesson if you didn’t stop getting into trouble before sending you back to your home.

The issue, though, was that he never acted on anything. No matter what you did, it was like he couldn’t be bothered to take the next step. And that just got on your last nerve, because you both knew what you each wanted. So why wouldn’t he just man up and take what you were trying to give him? In your mind, the solution was clear. You’d have to up the ante, force his hand. If he wouldn’t take what was his, then you’d make it clear that he had no other choice. 

You didn’t get far into your plan, though. You’d hope to steal some liquor from the grocery store, level up from your little candy escapades, but it seemed like Lee knew you better than you thought he did. He was already waiting in the liquor aisle when you showed up, his eyes dark as he took you by the arm and dragged you out of the store. Your protests fell on deaf ears as he forced you into his cruiser, before he climbed into his side, telling you that you’d better keep that pretty little mouth shut before he shuts it for you. 

Well, at least it seemed that your plan still had some chance of working. 

He parked the cruiser in front of your house before grabbing you by the arm again and tugging you inside. And, God, there was just something about the way he was man-handling you that had you positively dripping. Oh, you hoped this was gonna work. It just had to work. You didn’t know what you’d do if it didn’t.

“Where’s your mama, gumdrop?” he asked, looking around at the pictures of you on the wall. “Wanna let her know that she needs to keep a better watch on you unless she wants somethin’ bad to happen to you before you can get a ring on that pretty little finger of yours.”

“She’s workin’ late,” you said. “Won’t be in til late. Guess you’re gonna have to deal with me yourself.”

“I’ve already given you a thousand chances to get your act together. We both know that what I’m sayin’ ain’t got an effect on you.”

“Maybe it’s not what you say, but what you do while you say it,” you said, praying with every fiber in your being that he would do what you were so desperate for. 

“Oh? Is that so? Then let me try again,” Lee whispered as he towered over you. “C’mon, gumdrop. I’ll give you one more chance to get your act together.”

“Or what?” you taunted. 

He leaned over you, his lips brushing against your ear. “Or else I’m gonna have to take you over my knee right here and now and remind just who you’re talkin’ to.”

“Yeah? And maybe that’s what I want,” you challenged. “Ever think of that? I doubt it. All you ever think about is following the stupid fucking law and—”

“Watch your language, gumdrop,” he growled. “You’re ‘bout to enter dangerous territory, and I don’t think you understand who the fuck you’re messin’ with.”

“Oh, I understand perfectly who I’m messing with, just like I know you’re too much of a coward to do anything about it.”

“Oh, that’s it. You’re in for it now.” He grabbed your arm, tugging you over to your couch. He sat down, pulling you down with him and forcing you over his knee. He pushed the skirt of your dress up, leaving you exposed to him. “You bet fuckin’ count, gumdrop.”

But you still weren’t ready to comply, so you asked, “Yeah? Or what?”

His hand came sound hard, making you howl in pain. “I said fuckin’ count. And now you better start thankin’ your daddy for bein’ so gracious to put you back in your place.”

“One,” you whimpered. He pinched your thigh and you quickly added, “Thank you, daddy.”

“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he asked, smacking your ass again. You quickly muttered out two and a thank you. “Think you deserve ten for your behavior, don’t you, gumdrop?”

“Yes, daddy,” you said, trying to stop the tears from leaving your eyes. “Whatever you want, daddy.”

“Mm, I like the sound of that,” he said, continuing his assault on your ass. When it was over, he pulled your skirt back down and pulled you up so you were sitting up on his knee. You whimpered, your ass still sore and raw. “Now, you better remember this lesson, gumdrop. I’d hate to have to use more...drastic lessons to get my point across. You understand?”

“Yes, daddy,” you said, but you were already planning the next way to get yourself in trouble for, as painful as this punishment had been, you were aching for the sheriff to take things further. And, really, you knew that would make him happy, and weren’t you supposed to make your daddy happy?

[kuekyuuq]

On Lena wearing that NCU sweater

I keep trying to find in-canon reasons for that.

Could it be Lena's? Lena went to and graduated from MIT. (For all non-american fans, that's the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, in Cambridge, Massachusetts - east coast, presumably close to Metropolis. The National City University is - as the name says - in National City (not necessarily related to the real life National City), which is canonically in California / west coast.)

Canonically, genius Lena graduated from MIT at the age of 18 (in 2011) and either was already or started working as an advocate at LuthorCorp that same year, when and where she first met Sam. A year later, Lena was fired by Lex, because she didn't share his hatred and obsession for Superman. Around that time she met Jack Spheer and they started working together from a garage, to find a cure for cancer(s) using nanotech. It wasn’t until 2016, when Lex was convicted to 32 consecutive life-sentences and sent to Striker's Island after (kidnapping Lena and) “turning the sun red” to try and kill Superman (resulting in numerous fatalities), that Lena ended things with Jack in Metropolis and moved to National City, taking over LuthorCorp...

While Lena may have taken some online-courses at NCU, to continue learning and expand her knowledge / in other fields, during that time, she was still living in Metropolis. Boston and a vast variety of high-praised universities in an even wider variety of fields are right around the corner. So, somehow I doubt she would have enrolled in at a decent, but not as high-class university across the country. However, there is a slim chance, she did exactly that, if she had been somehow cut off financially after her fall-out with Lex, and NCU was simply the cheaper choice - for some additional credits, she officially didn’t even need(?). So, she maybe got the sweater via mail? Or/and visited NC occasionally before her permanent move for her studies/exams/I-have-no-idea-how-long-distance-universiting-works?

To my best knowledge, we first saw Lena wearing it while staying with the Arias girls. So, could it be Sam's? "Samantha [...] pulled through by herself as a single mother once graduating school from to one job and city to the next to ensure that she and her daughter would have a future together." [arrowverse wiki]

...I don't know about you, but to me that doesn't sound like Sam ever really went to university, but got to where she ended up (COO for L-Corp) for being a hard worker and through experience ...and for having happened to catch Lena's attention.

Sooooooo.... outside of Lena plainly purchasing herself that sweater to show/feel her alliance to National City folks... What's my non-canon / head-canon explanation for Lena wearing that sweater?

Scenario 1:

Game night at Kara's. Kara trips, bumps into Lena and has her spill her red wine over her sweater. Kara: "Oh, my gosh! I'm soooo sorry, Lena! Here, let me grab you something to change into! I will totally pay the cleaning of your probably incredibly expensive-... is that cashmere!? Oh, Rao..!" Lena: "Don't worry. I got it on a discount from Brunello." Lena grabs the offered sweater, goes to the bathroom and changes into it. Lena, smiling to herself: "Yepp, I'm so gonna walk outta here wearing this and never return it..." (Lena returns to Kara googling Brunello Cucinelli sweater prizes; wide-eyed, sweaty and really pale... Poor thing.)

Scenario 2:

Kara learned that Lena's horrible childhood deprived her of watching Disney and Pixar movies. Kara: "I am so gonna make up for that." Lena: "Do I have a word in tha--" Kara: "No." So, Lena shows up at Kara's apartment after work, still wearing her business attire. Kara: "That won't do. Watching movies and chill requires comfy clothes!" Kara goes and fetches Lena her NCU sweater...

3 hours, two movies, 3 pizzas (3 slices for Lena and 2 1/2 pizzas "slowly" consumed by Kara) and a good amount of ice-cream later: Lena: "This was... actually lovely. But it's getting late. I've got to go. Thank you, Kara. I had a wonderful evening." Kara: "I knew it! Nobody can resist cute widdle Wall-E's charm!" Lena: "...he was really sweet, adorable and excitable, but I associated more with EVE." Kara: "Hey, you are still wearing my--" Lena: "Oh, your sweater? I didn't realize. It really is much more comfortable than most anything I own. And it does smell ni--.. Ehem. Hold on, I'll go change." Kara: "Huh, what? Wait! You know, keep it. It suits you. Soft-Lena is a nice look on you." Lena: "Oh, uh, okay... Thank you again. I will see you Thursday at lunch?" Kara: "Count on it!"

And then she wore it at her low point, because it gave her comfort... ❤