#1st world problem it really does not matter

[sea-me-now]

WAKING UP TO CRAZY SPLATOON NEWS ON A RANDOM TUESDAY ONCE AGAIN

ACHK WHA HUH

anyway so clearly they did have new stuff to announce for the anniversary but just didn’t until a few weeks later for whatever reason

splatoon 3 content extension *and* a new spinoff game…what more could we have dreamed for truly

[thewinterdrafts]

Flesh and Metal | The White Wolf

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (1st Person)

Word Count: 6,062

Summary: Bucky Barnes is everything you ever wanted—soft, thoughtful, devoted. He loves you with a quiet intensity that should make you feel like the luckiest person alive. But after so many months of being together, he still hasn’t touched you. Not like that. When you finally confront him, you realize the truth is so much deeper. He does want you. He just doesn’t know how to ask. And tonight, for the first time—he’s finally ready to give in.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW, Sub!Bucky (lots of begging you guys), Angst, Swearing, Dominance & submission dynamics, Self-doubt & insecurity, Trauma responses & PTSD, Fear of abandonment & rejection, BDSM themes (light control, praise, permission-based dynamics), Overstimulation & begging, Implied past abuse

A/N: hey guys! this is my first ever story here, and i've worked so hard on it, my brain might dissolve through my ears tonight. i hope you'll like it, happy reading 🤍

📍Masterlist

It has been four months. Four months and one day, to be exact, since Bucky Barnes became mine. I’ve never heard so many people congratulate me and warn me in the same breath, but I never cared. Not when he’s been so precious, so thoughtful, so achingly romantic. Not when he’s spent every single day making me feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

I love him more than life itself. And with him—life and death feel closer than they should.

So why does it feel like I’m still not enough?

Four months, and he hasn't touched me. Not once. Not like that. 

Every time I try, every time I lean in, every time I press just a little too close, he pulls away. Sometimes subtly, sometimes not. Sometimes it’s a hesitant step back, sometimes it’s a firm grip on my wrist, pushing me away just enough to make it clear.

I tried everything. Cute lingerie. Whispered invitations. I even got my hair done for our anniversary last night. Nothing helped, I couldn't shake his composed demeanor, no matter what I did.

Maybe, he doesn’t want me at all. Why would he?

The Bucky Barnes could have anyone. Someone like Natasha—gorgeous, cool, effortlessly magnetic. The kind of woman who could hold her own against a super soldier, the kind who wouldn’t hesitate. The kind who makes sense with him.

Me on the other hand? What was I thinking, believing I would be enough? Just a simple girl, coming from a boring family, with no interesting backstory, nothing to show, nothing to–

"Baby?" Bucky put his face an inch from mine, which immediately snapped me out of my spiralling thoughts. "You okay? Is your stomach upset?" He pointed to the remaining of mac and cheese he cooked. 

He grew to be extremely good at reading my expressions over the past few months. He usually doesn't need to ask; he just knows what's wrong, and eliminates the problem without a word. This time, though, he didn't know. How could he?

"No," I say flatly.

"Sure? Because–"

"I am fine," I snap, louder than anticipated. 

I immediately regret my tone when I see Bucky stiffen, the sound of his metal arm clenching into an unbreakable fist. He takes exactly three steps back from me; measured and calculated. His eyes terrified; I can almost see how he is searching for the possible threats or punishments he would receive, now that he senses the change in the mood. He's still as a sculpture, except for the arms; they are shaking from how strongly he is sqeezing his fist.

Oh, I fucked up.

"I'm sorry. It's just been a really hard week on me, I-"

"You're hurt." 

It's not a question, it's a fact.

"I'm not hurt–"

"I hurt you."

It's not a fact, it's a crime. At least that's how he says it.

I look down to the tiled floor where I can still spot the signs of Bucky's cooking. I cannot look at him. I would need to lie to his face and that is one thing I was never able to do. Not after what he's been through. 

I notice a small movement from him as he takes another step; farther. Way farther away from me. I take a deep breath and force myself to look at him, wishing I didn't as the sight instantly breaks my heart; his eyes are filled with tears, and he's so confused. Scared. Terrified of what is coming. He's gripping onto the side of his shirt, like he always does when he feels unsafe. A lump forms in my throat as I try to open my mouth to speak. I've ruined him. 

"I– uh." The sound I made was barely a whisper, but it made him visibly flinch. "Do you... Do you not... want me?"

Bucky's terrified gaze turns into utter confusion in a matter of seconds. He blinks – for the first time in maybe minutes – as he's struggling to understand my question. I collect all my leftover courage and hope to keep talking. 

"You push me away," I say, trying to be as soft as possible. "We've been together for months, but never... together."

I feel so stupid for not being able to just straight out say it. I'm hoping he somehow understands what I mean, but judging by his scrunched eyebrows, I'm gonna have to be more specific.

 I let out a big sigh and close my eyes to make the embarrassment less painful. "Bucky, we never had sex." 

As soon as the words leave my mouth, his face drops. I lose him again somewhere very far away from me, and he keeps looking at me like I am about to destroy him completely. 

"If you don't want me, that's okay," I assure him, ignoring the bitter taste in my mouth. "I know I'm not the prettiest girl, and you've probably seen better—"

"No!" he snaps, so I lift my head up. He looks horrified, like I've just said something unspeakable. I wait for him to continue, but instead, he keeps staring at me, as if his eyes could tell everything he is unable to.

"No?" I echo. "Then why do you run every time I try to touch you like that?"

He breaks the eye contact by strictly looking at the kitchen counter right in front of him; or at anything that is not me. From all the months I've spent in his presence, I recognize this look too well. He's ashamed. 

"Bucky..."

Silence. He grips the fabric of his shirt, twisting it in his hands. A nervous tick, but to him, a grounding mechanism. He's really trying not to lose himself.

"I—, I don't—," he stutters. "I don't know how."

"What?" I blink. “Bucky, you’ve—” I hesitate. “You’ve been with other women before.”

His head jerks up with a flicker of panic and frustration.

 “That’s not—that’s different.”

“Different how?”

Bucky is refusing to look at me, so I stand up from my seat to make way towards him. He takes a sharp breath when I'm within his reach, but doesn't move. That's a good sign. 

"Look at me, baby," I ask, softly. His eyes snap up instantly, and I see it all there. The fear, the desperation, the battlefield in his head. "Tell me what's wrong."

He tries to do so; he opens his mouth, swallows, exhales, shakes his head, tries again, but he fails, no matter how hard he tries.

"Do you want me?" I ask bluntly.

He nods, still staring at the marble countertop. Okay.

"Are you scared to ask for what you want?"

Another nod. 

"Do you trust me?"

This one is instant.

"Yes."

"Then tell me."

He lets out a shaky breath before he swallows. He turns his head to me, face flustered, his chest moving up and down as he tries to regulate himself.

"Please, can you—," his voice dies before he can finish. He clearly is struggling, like he doesn't know how to want things and the fact breaks a small part of my heart permanently.

"Go on, Bucky. What do you need?" I encourage him.

"I—," he stutters, and then shakes his head hard, like the words are physically hurting him inside his head.

 His body, however, tells the truth on behalf of him. The way his hands tremble and his chest heaves with each exhale, the way his metal fingers twitch against his thigh—he is fighting himself.

I let the silence stretch, waiting, watching the way his face twists with frustration, with hesitation. With want.

“Baby,” I say softly.

His eyes cracks open, blue burning with something raw, something pleading. He sucks in a breath, and for a moment, I think he finally gives in, but then he shakes his head again, hard, turning his face away.

I click my tongue, grabbing his chin, forcing him to meet my gaze. “You want something. I can see it. I can feel it.”

His chest rises sharply, lips parting, but still, he doesn't speak. I lean in, lips brushing against the shell of his ear. 

“Do you need me to guide you?”

His entire body jerks, a sharp inhale ripping from his throat. His fingers are clenching into fists, the tremor rolling through his shoulders like a quake. But he still doesn't answer me.

My grip tightens slightly, my voice dropping to a whisper. “Bucky, if you don’t tell me what you need, I can’t give it to you.”

He exhales shakily, a frustrated, broken sound. His brows knit together, his hands lifting before falling back to his thighs, his whole frame trembling.

“Please,” he whispers.

My heart clenches. “Yes?”

His head dropped forward, breath ragged. “Please… please tell me what to do.”

Oh. 

Oh, fuck.

I smile, slow and knowing, letting the moment stretch, letting him feel the weight of what he's just asked for.

“I’ll show you.” I say, and I find my voice firm. Commanding.

His breath stutters, his entire body tensing, every muscle coiled tight with restraint, with hesitation. He’s fighting it, clinging to the instinct to resist—until I lean in, my mouth brushing over the shell of his ear.

 “If you'll be a good boy for me.”

The sound he makes—soft, broken, fucking relieved—rips through me like a shockwave. My core tightens, ignites, burns, a volcano threatening to erupt at the sheer power of it. 

Bucky Barnes is submissive. For me. 

"Follow me," I say, and as if I freed him from an invisible curse, he makes his way after me.

All at once, every doubt I ever had—about myself, about us—disintegrates. How did I not see this before? How could I have been so blind? He doesn’t need distance. He doesn’t need time. He just needs me. Me in control. Me guiding him. Me telling him exactly what to do.

And fuck, if that isn’t the most intoxicating realization of all, I don't know what is.

I may not be the most experienced woman alive, but that doesn’t matter right now. What matters is that he needs me to be present. He needs me to take this. Own this. There’s no room for doubt, no room to shy away, when he trusts me to take care of him.

I release him just to check his expression, searching for even the slightest hint of hesitation, but to my surprise, I find none. Not a single trace. His eyes track my every movement, locked onto me like a soldier awaiting an order.

And it shouldn't turn me on the way it does.

"Do you want me right now?" My voice is steady, even as I close the space between us, just by one step. 

His gaze sweeps over me, dragging from my lips, to my throat, to my body before he gives a sharp, assured nod.

 "Then take off my dress." 

He moves instantly, without hesitation—like he’s been waiting for this since the moment he met me. His fingers find the hem of my dress; his touch cautious, reverent, like he’s afraid I might pull away at any second. Like he can’t quite believe this is happening.

The contrast of his warm, flesh hand on one thigh, and his ice-cold vibranium fingers on the other, sends a shiver tearing down my spine. Slowly, deliberately, he lifts the fabric over my head, the brush of his knuckles against my skin leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

Once I’m bare before him, he takes a small step back—just to look. His lips part slightly, his breathing uneven, chest rising and falling faster, deeper. His eyes—piercing, devastating—roam every inch of me, burning me from the inside out.

And then, he moves.

He throws the dress across the room without looking, never once taking his eyes off of me. His entire body is vibrating, like he’s barely holding himself together, barely restraining the need thrumming beneath his skin.

The sight of him is stealing every breath I have left.

“Can I take your shirt off?” I break the silence, my own voice softer now.

“Please,” he begs.

I waste no time. I step in, close enough for his ragged breath to ghost over my skin, and strip him bare. It’s a summer night, so he’s only wearing a thin, black V-neck, already clinging to the sweat on his chest–or at least, he was. With one fluid motion, I pull it over his head and let it drop to the floor.

I take a moment, just a few seconds, to admire him.

His body is all strength, broad shoulders and sculpted muscle carved by battle and time. Scars litter his skin, testaments to wars fought and survived, and yet, under the soft glow of the moonlight, he looks like something untouchable. Ethereal. Unreal.

I swallow hard, licking my lips as my gaze travels downward, over his defined abs, the way they tense under my attention, down to the dark trail of hair that disappears beneath the waistband of his boxers. I feel it then—the heat pooling low, the unbearable pulse between my thighs. And he’s just standing there, watching me, eyes so dark they’re nearly black.

I’m already so wet for him, it’s almost embarrassing.

"Undress me," I whisper. 

His breath catches, eyes flash with hunger, the way they always do when he wants but won’t take. But this time, he moves.

With careful fingers, he reaches behind me for the clasp of my bra, hesitant yet desperate. This is as far as we’ve ever gone. Four months of waiting, of skirting the edge, of Bucky refusing to let himself see me without clothes. Back then, I thought it was because he didn’t want me, because I wasn’t enough.

But now? Now I know the truth. He wouldn’t have known what to do. He was afraid to ruin this. Afraid to ruin me.

I snap out of my thoughts as I feel the cold air of the AC dance on my bare torso. My nipples instantly harden as a result, and Bucky notices it just as quickly. His lips are apart, and he's staring at them like an animal on his prey. The way he wants me fills me with every ounce of confidence I’ve ever needed.

"You can touch them," I whisper, not sure he even heard me, but then he takes two steps towards, putting his flesh hand on my waist.

I gasp, the breath catching in my throat as his warm, steady touch trails up my skin. His movements are slow—painfully, torturously slow—like he’s memorizing me with his hands, drinking me in through touch alone. He reaches my left breast and he cups it, his thumb immediately finding my hard nipple. His breath shudders, sharp and heavy, his chest rising with a strained inhale as he circles my achingly hard peak with his thumb, teasing, testing, learning me.

I struggle to hold in my moan, my teeth sinking into my lip as he pinches it, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure straight between my legs. And fuck, he’s watching. His vibranium arm remains stiff at his side, fingers curled into a tight, trembling fist, his jaw slightly slack, his lips parted as he watches himself touch me.

He’s fascinated. Hypnotized. Like this is the first time he’s ever allowed himself to truly want something.

"Both hands, please." My voice is barely a whisper, barely a sound, just a needy, broken plea. His head snaps up, and for the first time in what feels like forever, his eyes meet mine.

His metal hand, still clenched in restraint, relaxes. With slow, careful hesitation, he brings it up, inch by inch, his fingertips skimming my ribs before finally—finally—he touches me. A shiver rips through me, my body instinctively arching into the icy contrast of metal against my heated skin. I don’t pull away; if anything, I lean into him, chasing the sensation, craving more.

"You're being so good for me," I praise, my voice low.

Bucky fucking breaks.

His entire body stutters, trembles; his breath hitching, his knees nearly buckling beneath him as a wrecked, desperate whimper falls from his lips.

Fuck. That has to be the sexiest sound in the world.

“Can I—” His voice cracks, his fingers flexing against my skin. “Can I please kiss you?”

He is pleading, over and over, his voice shaky, utterly undone.

“Please, I need it. Please.”

His words shoot straight to my core, the need in his voice a direct pulse between my legs. I want him so much, I might sublime from the heat he ignites inside me.

I don’t hesitate. I grab his arm, pulling him against me, forcing his bare chest to crash into mine. He melts against me, his body burning, muscles taut, already trembling with restraint. And then, I kiss him. Or maybe he kisses me. Either way, the moment our lips meet, Bucky loses himself.

He kisses me like he’s starving, like he’s drowning and I’m his only air. His mouth is hungry, relentless, desperate, lips crashing into mine as he’s trying to devour me whole.

And fuck, his hands.

They roam everywhere, one gripping the small of my back, the other skimming just beneath my panties, teasing, taunting me, and just when I think it couldn't get any better, his metal hand clamps around my ass, gripping tight, keeping me steady. Feeling the cool vibranium pressing into my heated skin, I moan straight into his mouth, my body shuddering in his hold.

“Put me on the bed. Now.”

The words leave me in a command, and Bucky moves before I can even take another breath. With one arm, just one, he lifts me with ease, like I weigh nothing to him. He lays me down, gentle but firm, already moving to cover me with his body—but I stop him.

“Not yet.”

I shake my head, and he immediately halts, his breathing labored, controlled. He looks wrecked, like he's using every bit of self control to keep himself away from me. Still kneeling between my legs, still so fucking obedient, and yet—his eyes. His fucking eyes, they’re eating me alive.

“Take it off,” I order, nodding toward his jeans.

Bucky keeps his eyes locked on mine, hands trailing down, slow and deliberate as he reaches for the button of his jeans. With a quick flick of his fingers, they’re undone. His piercing gaze never leaves me, his eyes dragging over every inch of my body, devouring, worshipping.

I don't have much time before he stands up and slowly pushes his jeans down. I gasp when I see the thin, black material of his boxers that do nothing to hide him. The thick, heavy outline of him, pressing against the fabric, takes my breath away.

I’ve never seen him like this before. Not even close. I’ve felt him—hard, pressing against me on nights where he’d let himself have just a little. But then he would stop and shut it down. I couldn't understand why, not until now, and I don't have one second to think about it, because he pushes his boxers down. His cock is finally bared to me in full, and Jesus fucking Christ.

He is huge. How is that gonna fit?

“Please,” I hear a small plea towards him, and I shot my eyes back to his face. 

His breath is wild, erratic, chest heaving like he can’t get enough air, like he’s on the edge of breaking. His flesh hand is poised, ready to touch himself, to relieve even an ounce of the pressure, but he doesn't. Not without my word. I bite my lip, reveling in the power of it, in the way his entire body trembles under restraint.

“Take this off, too,” I instruct, gesturing to the lace panties that I’d bought months ago—back when I thought he’d see them then.  Back when I thought we’d be here so much sooner. 

But I don’t have a single complaint left in my body, because when Bucky finally moves—he rips them off. The thin fabric tears from me in one sharp pull, and for a split second, I wonder if he just ripped them in half.

His eyes drag over me, drinking in every inch of bare skin, mapping the places he’s never let himself truly look at before. I feel just how wet I am, now that there’s nothing to soak up the slick. I can feel it all pooling between my thighs, proof of just how badly I want him.

A flicker of  shyness grips me—how did I get this lucky? How did I end up with him, undone and starving, in front of me? But I don’t let myself hide; instead, I sit up slowly, deliberately, my movements calculated, letting myself kneel on the soft mattress.

I look up at him, like I could devour him with a single breath. The six-foot-tall ex-assassin is towering over me, radiating pure heat, his entire body coiled tight like a predator barely holding back.

And then, soft as a prayer, I say, “I want you.”

As if I’ve broken a curse, Bucky snaps. His fingers clamp around my throat, his mouth slamming into mine, the sheer force of it knocking me back onto the bed. He pins me down, all of his weight pressing into me, heavy, suffocating, absolutely fucking perfect. The way he kisses me makes me crazy; he's hungry, possessive, and so filthy, I can only moan as a response.

His cock, thick and heavy, sliding between my soaking slit, his length gliding right over my clit with each slow, torturous grind.

“Fuck—” I moan straight into his mouth, my hips instinctively tilting up, chasing every ounce of friction he gives me.

I lose every bit of control I had left. Overcome with greed, I grab at him, pull at him, take as much as I can. My fingers tangle in his long hair, keeping him locked to me, refusing to let him break the kiss for even a second. 

I let my other hand wander; I trace the sharp lines of his back, trailing lower, until my palm finds his ass. I squeeze, hard, forcing him to rock against me even harder, dragging his cock rougher, deeper through my slick folds. My breathing is a wreck, my body moving instinctively, clinging to him, needing more, more, more.

I want him. All over me. Inside me. Taking me apart.

“Can I—” His voice shatters, breathless. He pulls back just enough to meet my gaze, his eyes wrecked with need.

“Can I please put it in?”

And fuck, he looks at me like a puppy, wide-eyed, begging.

“Please, I’ll make you feel so good,” he purrs against my neck, teeth grazing my skin, lips pressing open-mouthed kisses.

“God, yes,” I groan.

Bucky grabs himself, his fingers shaking with need as he positions his cock right at my entrance. He could thrust in immediately, take what we both want without hesitation, but he doesn’t. Instead, he pauses; his eyes flick back up to mine, searching, waiting, needing something more.

And I know exactly what he wants.

“Be a good boy and fuck me, Bucky.”

I'm way past hesitation or shame. All I want is him taking over me, claiming me, pressing me into himself. The words shatter something inside him; his mouth parts, his pupils blown wide, and then—without ever breaking eye contact—he slides inside.

A broken moan leaves my lips as my spine arches, my body opening for him, stretching around him, and fuck, he fills me.

Completely. Entirely. Devastatingly.

I’ve been aching for this moment for months. I’ve fantasized about him taking me, and now he’s finally inside me. A deep pressure builds low in my belly, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes as he pushes deeper and deeper, until I feel the blunt tip of his cock press against my cervix.

He’s so fucking hard. I can feel him throbbing inside me, feel the pulse of his cock against my walls, and it drives me insane. I wait for him to finally move, but after a few seconds of stillness, I open my eyes.

Bucky is watching me so carefully, his eyes flicking over my face, searching for even the slightest sign of discomfort. His arms shake violently, his knuckles white from gripping the sheets beside my head. He’s breathing fast, erratic, his small, shaky breaths cold against my ear. And he’s moving too slowly, like he’s terrified of losing control.

“Relax, baby. You can let go.”

I lift my hand, gently stroking his beautiful face, my voice barely a whisper. His eyes soften, then immediately darken.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he rasps, his voice hoarse, ruined.

“You can’t,” I assure him. “I can take it. I want to take it.”

The sound that escapes him—a helpless whimper, like he’s been waiting his entire life to hear those words. His body trembles, his control hanging by a thread, his cock twitching inside me at the sheer relief of it.

He might be above me, but he is completely at my mercy.

“You’re doing so good,” I murmur, just inches from his lips, my breath fanning over his skin. “Don’t stop.”

The second I say it, he melts.

Raw, desperate need unleashes from him so suddenly, it knocks the breath from my lungs. I wheeze in surprise, barely able to keep up before he grabs the bedframe above my head with his vibranium arm and picks up the pace—hard. The deep, wrecked moan that rips from his throat sets me on fire; a wildfire raging low and uncontrollable, consuming every last of my coherent thoughts. All I know is him—the way he moves, the way he fills me, the way every precise thrust hits where I need him most.

I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer, and he collapses into me, his mouth claiming mine in a sloppy, desperate kiss. His thrusts are relentless, shaking the entire goddamn bed, and I have to grip his vibranium arm for dear life just to keep myself in place.

Somewhere in his haze, even now, he thinks to protect me—his flesh hand cradling the top of my head, shielding me from the bedframe. My chest tightens at the gesture, and I let my lips trail down his sweat-slicked neck in silent gratitude, my teeth grazing over his skin.

Something inside me snaps as I feel his salty skin on my tounge. My nails rake down his back, digging into the hard muscle, desperate to leave my mark. My teeth sink into his shoulder, biting, scratching, taking him. We’re sliding against each other, slick with sweat, the heat of the summer night making everything feel even filthier, more raw, more real.

And Bucky is falling apart.

He’s moaning, breaking, unraveling against me, the sounds deep and ragged, each one rougher than the last. If I didn’t know better—if I didn’t know how utterly overwhelmed with pleasure he is—I’d think he was in pure agony from the helpless little cries slipping from his lips.

“Tell me I’m good for you,” he whispers, almost afraid to ask, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear.

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

“You’re such a good boy for me, Bucky.” 

The words fall from my lips like a promise, and fuck, the sharp, broken gasp he lets out shreds me to pieces. It’s high and desperate, so fucking needy, and it goes straight to my core.

He kisses me, hard and possessive.

“I’ve been waiting…” His voice is unraveling, barely understandable.

”… for so fucking long.”

Then suddenly—

Thrust.

“And you—”

Thrust.

“Feel—”

Thrust.

“So—”

Thrust.

“Good.”

His voice rasps in pure, guttural pleasure. I’m nothing but a puddle beneath him, completely ruined, and somehow, he’s not finished.

His rhythm snaps, his thrusts turning harder, rougher, deeper, more possessive.

“Mine,” he snarls, his voice low, primal. He slams into me, hard, forcing me to take it.

“Mine, you understand?”

I can’t speak. Can’t think. There’s no rational thought left, no words, just pure, consuming pleasure. So instead, I match his pace, my hips rolling up to meet every devastating thrust. The way his words set me on fire, I let the flames consume me. My orgasm builds dangerously fast, and I’m hanging by a fucking thread, barely holding on under the brutal precision of his movements.

“Bucky—God—”

His name falls from my lips like a prayer, breathless and desperate.

“I’m—”

Judging by his increased pace, he knows exactly what I'm trying to say. He lifts himself, just enough to look me in the eyes, and I’m trying so hard not to let my eyes roll back, not to completely lose myself in him.

“Please.”

His voice shatters, breaking apart in my ear, pleading.

“Please cum on my cock. Please, baby, please—”

This is all I need to spiral. The coil inside me snaps violently, my entire body arching, shattering as a scream tears from my throat. I crash into pleasure, drowning in it, my walls clenching tight around him, milking him, pulling him deeper.

“Oh, fuck—” Bucky’s voice breaks, his hips stuttering, his rhythm completely unraveling as he feels me fall apart around him.

“That’s it—fuck—that’s my girl.”

His praise sends a violent aftershock through me, my body trembling, shaking, completely spent. I gasp for air, trying to regulate myself after the most devastating orgasm of my life, but I don't stand a chance. Bucky's not finished, not yet.

“I—I can’t—”

Bucky’s voice isn’t even human anymore. It’s a shattered, breathless little whimper, choked between desperate gasps, his body trembling like he’s about to break. His hips falter, his cock twitching so agressively inside me I swear I can feel it in my throat.

But he won’t let go. Not yet.

Not without permission.

“Please—”

The word falls apart in his throat, barely even understandable.

“Please, baby, please—please let me cum, I need it, I need you, I can’t hold it, I can’t—”

He’s whining, his breath is gone, his voice is gone, his body is gone; he is completely, utterly mine.

“Release it, baby.” My fingers tighten in his hair, dragging him deeper inside me. “Be a good boy and give it to me.”

And that’s it; he doesn’t just fall apart—he disintegrates.

His hips slam forward, burying himself so fucking deep inside me, holding us together, his muscles locking up, convulsing. And if this wasn't enough, he whimpers.

“Ohhh—fuck, fuck, fuck—”

His cock twitches and throbs uncontrollably, and I feel everything. The first violent, overwhelming pulse. The hot, thick flood of him spilling deep inside me. His hips keep jerking, his muscles keep locking up, his whimpers keep breaking apart into desperate, breathless sobs.

“Baby, baby—please, please, oh my God, I—I can’t—”

His hands claw at my waist, face burrowed into my neck, his breath a gasping mess. His voice cracks, completely breaking apart, and then a single, desperate sob escapes from him.

He cries. Bucky Barnes cries when he cums.

His body shakes uncontrollably, his hips rocking forward on their own, like he’s trying to push it even deeper, like he’s chasing something he’ll never be able to reach.

“Baby, baby—please hold me, please—fuck, I love you, I love you so much—”

His voice is cracking, completely gone, and I gasp as I feel another orgasm building inside me. Another slow, rolling wave, ignited by his moans, his desperate little whimpers, the way he’s still trembling inside me.

“Bucky—oh, fuck—”

The second he realizes what’s happening, it destroys him all over again.

“Baby, you’re gonna— Fuck, fuck, fuck—please, baby, please—”

His hips snap forward as a last burst of desperate energy, his hands gripping my waist so tightly I feel the bruises forming.

“Oh, baby—please, please cum on my cock again, I wanna feel it—please, baby, please, please—”

The filth of it, the raw need in his voice immedately shatters me. I scream his name, my body convulsing around him, my walls tightening, pulsing, taking him deeper, squeezing him so hard he sobs.

“Oh—oh fuck, baby, I’m still cumming—”

His cock throbs again, another weak, helpless little spill, and he whimpers so high and wrecked he sounds like he’s dying.

“I can’t stop—baby, I can’t stop, I can’t stop—”

His breath is gone, tears spilling onto my skin, his voice a trembling, begging mess, pleading for the final release. Not a moment later, he collapses.

His body slumps into mine; arms useless, his breathing erratic and broken. His tears still fall, his entire body shivering, overstimulated, still whimpering, still sobbing.

He’s still inside me, throbbing. Utterly gone from this world.

His hands stay locked firmly around me, fingers clutching, shaking, gripping, like he’ll die if I let go. And on top of that, he just won't stop crying. Soft, helpless little sobs hide into my skin, as he's holding onto me for dear life.

“Baby,” he whispers, his voice so broken and small.

“Baby, please don’t let go—please don’t go.”

My heart shatters to a million pieces in a matter of seconds. It becomes evidently clear that he's not here right now. He’s somewhere else, somewhere dark, somewhere cold, somewhere where he had nothing and no one. I feel it in the way he clings to me and his hands shake as they grip my waist. The way his face tucks into my throat, burrowing, searching, nuzzling like he’s trying to disappear into me; like he’s afraid this isn’t real.

"Shhh, Bucky,” I murmur, kissing his damp temple. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Even though I wanted my words to soothe him, he breaks even more instead. His breath catches on a sob, his entire body curling into me, fingers fisting in the sheets, in my hair, in anything he can hold onto. 

“You’re so good to me,” he gasps, his voice shaking. “So perfect, so soft, I—fuck, I don’t deserve this—”

His lips quiver against my skin, hands tightening around me, pulling me closer. The realization that he’s not just crying from overstimulation, hits me like a brick. He’s crying because he’s never felt this before.

Never felt this safe. Never felt this loved. Never felt this cherished, taken care of. 

“Bucky,” I whisper, cupping his tear-streaked face, making him look at me.

His blue eyes are glassy and vulnerable, still wet with tears. God, he looks so much younger like this. Like a little boy, back in the ‘40s, nineteen years old, held too many responsibilities, never got held in return.

I immediately want to fix every bad thing that's ever happened to him.

“You deserve all of this, my sweet boy,” I whisper, pressing my lips to his forehead. “You deserve every single second of love. You deserve to be taken care of.”

He lets out a tiny little sob that slits my heart in half, like a butcher knife.

“But I—” His voice cracks, his fingers digging into my waist. “I don’t—I don’t know how to do this. I don’t—”

His breath hitches, his chest rising, falling too fast. I know him enough to realize he’s panicking, his brain is fighting him, pushing against the comfort, trying to tell him he doesn’t deserve this.

I also know how to shut it down. I pull him into me, wrap my arms so tightly around him that he has no choice but to believe that this is real. I'm real.

“It’s okay, baby,” I say gently, stroking his hair, feeling his body relax against mine. “You don’t have to know how. Just let me love you.”

He immediately eases into me, his breath slowing, his shaking finally dying down. He doesn't know, but he's holding my own broken pieces together too, since I've never felt a love so consuming before. 

“If I fall asleep,” he whispers, as if he is about to say something unthinkable, “will you be here when I wake up?”

My dear God. 

"Of course, Bucky. I'll be right here, always," I promise, my voice firm, not leaving any space for doubts in his broken mind.

He buries his face into my neck as an answer, and with that, Bucky Barnes is fast asleep in my arms.

[ficsiwontwrite]

!!! System! Shen Yuan AU !!!

Airplane wasn’t changing things, and no matter what tasks the system tried to put forward the only difference in the world was that the An Ding Peak Lord was more stressed and overworked

So a new variable was needed, and since the system tasks have been completed perfectly chances are the problem is in the system… so the solution is to shove the work to someone sentient who would be invested into changing the story!!

So yeah airplane gets a notification that the system is being upgraded and suddenly his terrible system has a personality

System Shen yuan would consume (?)all the information the original system had and before going online would have created an entire tasks tab that include daily/weekly/monthly/yearly/unlimites tasks plus main tasks and as soon as he was online he would great airplane with a passive aggressive message and send him to work

Shen yuan would be much more generous with points but he hates the shop system, the dumb things that can be bought there will them have descriptions like “this scenario pusher will make clothes tear like in a bad horny donghua” being 100% ready to turn it into sqh himself if he dared to be a scum and use it on some unsuspecting woman

The first time sqh failed a s!sy task he was full of dread, punishments are very trauma inducing after all, but them the worst punishment sy can bare to deal is making him 1st pov some of binghe’s more tame suffering, like hunger, bullying and the tea spill first meeting… which could have been bad if the senses and feelings where in sync but it was all toned down to zero… SQH them understands the new system as some kind of softie tsundere lmao

S!sy would feel bad about the harsh punishment and send some easy task with a high reward the next day….. “there needs to be a carrot, not only a stick!” (I do love me a dumbass shen yuan)

They of course would banter and end up caring about each other, everytime sqh says/does something sy thinks is stupid he’ll give tasks like “read 10 books about x and write a 10k words essay about x” or when he is tossed around in a mission or by mbj he’s send missions for Jim’s to get stronger…

By the second month there’ll be missions like “eat 3 times a day”, unfortunately for shen yuan sqh already trusts him and feels safe enough to bend the tasks, so not only he will half-ass boring tasks to get the hide of y magical beast and making a coat (sending liu qingge to do it, mostly) which sy approves for being smart BUT he would also eat like melon seeds instead of stopping to eat full meals

Shang Qinghua will end up having to scroll detailed 1k worded self-care tasks…

This au would be focused mostly in cumplane dynamics yes but I thinks it would be really hilarious if sy started to make sqh do tasks that would take him close to xxx because sy wants to see them (choose the SQH x SY x ??? of your preference)

Of course s!sy would be making his mental gymnastics and justifying his tasks as totally no homo “wdym i want to look to lqg’s pretty face? I just want you to be strong enough not to dumbly die!” “Yes you do have to ask for a book on monsters from Shen Qingqiu himself, he’s so greedy he must have hidden away the best one” “you get hurt so frequently, you simply must go to Mu Qingfan and get personal classes on first aid” “No, you can not send a disciple with a mensage to Yue Qingyuan, it’s important to communicate face to face with your sect leader in such matters” etc etc

[kenzielovesuyou]

Missed you

pairing:brothers friend!paige x dancer!reader!

Warning: flash backs, both being kids in flashbacks, fluff, dance competitions, basketball games, comforting smut! Specific stuff not grammar checked!

Note: I really like how this turned out! (Also sorry is this was too specific!”

Summary: as it started with a brother‘s friend to my best friend, we were always together! Until we had move to California…

As a good little sister and 11 year old, I never really bothered anyone. All I did was wake up,eat, dance, sleep, repeat literally. Even when we had company I still danced without any care in the world. It meant everything to me I was always a perfectionist. I always believed in practice makes perfect. If one dance competition I won first and the next I won second I would practice my butt off. I wasn’t like the out of control, jazz, and acro dancers I was the pretty lyrical and contemporary dancer even when I did jazz/acro I made sure I didn’t flow out of control. My brothers best friend tho was definitely different but I didn’t care because she was cool. 2 years older, She was also nice and sweet. But a Basketball player like no other almost every game she had was went. Except for me I always had a competition that weekend. But sometimes I did it and I did go. But when I had competitions my mom would take me. I never had a problem with it.

One day my dad came in my room. “Hey honey!” “Hey dad what’s up?” I said panting “can you maybe take a break from dancing just for today-“ “dad no I got one of the lowest places this weekend and it was embarrassing! 4th dad 4th place!” “I get honey just please just for an hour?” “Fine an HOUR” “alright bye honey-“ “bye.”

now I felt super bored. I started to read dork diaries my fav book! I was finishing chapter 5 until I heard a knock on my door. Assuming it was my dad I yelled “ugh dad go away!” Then the door slightly opened then I saw Paige looking a bit sad. “ omg I’m sooo sorry I thought you were my dad!” “No it’s totally fine! I just um wanted to talk to you..” “of course come sit!” I say patting beside me “so some girls at school had been bullying me about how I shouldn’t play basketball and wearing boyish clothes..” “ok well first off why does it matter if you play basketball or not I have boys at my dance studio?” “Because I’m a girl and girls don’t do basketball…” “let me guess there’s a wnba and you go against girls all the time, plus you have girls on your team right?” “I mean I guess so..” “and you dress fine I don’t see a problem with it but if it bothers them shove it up their ass..” I whisper the last part we both chuckle “wait do I have your snap?” Paige asked? “Uh no I don’t think so?” “Let me give it to you!” “K!” After we get each other snap she thanks me and left. After that we become best friends always snaping each other and talking a lot.

(Remember reader is 11 and Paige is 13!😭)

Weekend

Today was my dance competition, i have a solo and I’m pretty excited! It’s lyrical duh! But I had I jazz duet and Acro group dance. I little nervous but my costumes is always sooo pretty! (If ur specific like me here are the costumes!)↓

1st is group! The 2nd one is solo and third one is duet!

after I put on my solo costume I had to do my hair. My dance teacher wanted me to have curly hair. While the curl rollers was in my hair I thought my hair looked kinda big so I send a snap to Paige.

I realized Paige is in the car I wonder where she’s going, shes supposed to be at her game right now?

Back stage

I was watching the dancer before me and thought she’s really good..

meanwhile my mom was snapping pictures every where “sweetie your up next be ready!” “Ok mum” I inhaled before walking on stage.

Now playing: elastic heart

As the music starts my nervousness completely goes away and I started doing what I love. dancing. As I’m looking in the crowd from my mom, I see three more people beside my mom and I recognize them as Paige my dad and my brother! I felt such a rush excitement I almost forgot my solo!

when my solo ended, I walked off stage. I felt super proud of myself and even more, proud because Paige watched me. As group and my duet went well too. I was sure we were going to get first!

Awards

As they announced fifth, fourth, and third I started to get nervous.. “and 2nd place is…” “Stacy from Queen City dance!” As everyone clapped, I knew who the winner was! “And 1st place goes to..” “y/n from studio pink!” They all clapped but some how I only heard Paige.. after I got my award and took my picture, I walk off stage and run straight to Paige she embraces me tight “you did so good n/n!” “Thank you paigeyyy!” “Hey what about us?” My dad says as I hugged the rest of my family I feel Paige’s stare lingering on me

as we’re heading to the car my mom mumbles “facebook is going to love this..” “mum what?” “Oh nothing honey!” “Ur mum was taking pictures the whole time” Paige whispers we both giggled as we get in my mom‘s car as my dad drove his own car. As my mum stopped to a gas station me and page went through my mums phone to look at what she posted on Facebook, “omg no she did not..”. The post↓

My baby did so good!#mommygoals#1stplace

♡

comments

“This is soooo embarrassing!” “I mean she’s not lying “ “ik but still”

Next weekend

Today I’m not going my dance competition because I’m going to Paige’s basketball game! I’ve always wanted to go, but I always had a dance competition I couldn’t. When we got to, I saw page’s team warming up. It honestly felt pretty cool to watch my first basketball game in real life. Whenever she saw us she waved frantically she made a few layups then She walked over to us “l didn’t know you guys were coming” “yep, I’m here.” My mom says “Well, enjoy me destroying the other team!” when the game started, we have the ball Paige’s team mate dribbled down the court then passed it to Paige and she drove to the basket and made an easy layup. The crowd roared. as the other team had the ball paige was playing defense when the other team attempted to shoot and they immediately got blocked by Paige. She roughly dribbled down the court, but instead of driving to the basket again. She stepped back and made the a three the crowd roared even louder after she did that. She looked at her parents. Honestly, I already know we won the ball game. ( felt too tired to write the rest of this section it’s literally 3:02 am rn and I started about 3 hrs ago😭✌️)

Today something felt off.. there where boxes In my parents room and a lot of stuff went missing. but Paige came over as usual and she played basketball in our backyard with my brother. I just decided to make bracelets. After I made two I got bored and wanted to watch TV. About 10 minutes in my show my dad knocked on my door “hey sweetie so um be a little nicer to Paige okay?” My dad says “dad I am always nice to her what are you talking about?” I ask “well I think she has a little crush on you…” he muttered “oh.. ok!” I say “alright sweetie have fun watching whatever this is..” “alright bye!” I honestly felt very excited because I knew I felt the same. I just didn’t know if she did. Then Paige had to leave. I didn’t want her to but I let her know”bye Paigey!” I shout then hug her “bye n/n!” She pats my head.

after she left, I wanted to show her my dog.

As I was about to respond, my mom and dad called us in the living room. When I got down, they both looked distressed. “ so um we need to tell both of you something..” “yeah?” My brother and I say “Tomorrow we’re moving to California because your dad got a new job..” “WAIT WHAT?” my brother yells “WE CANT LEAVE PAIGE HERE!” I shout “WHAT SHE SAID” my brother shouts again “ look we’re sorry that we didn’t tell you later, but you guys have to get sleep now for the flight tomorrow” my dad says “ “we already packed your stuff, so don’t worry about that” my mom says “ “and while you are asleep, we’re gonna pack your room up” my dad says “but-“ “nope up the stairs now” I didn’t say anything else I cried myself to sleep at night. But I at least had to tell Paige about it.

Paigey!💗

Y/n

hey I have to tell you something…

Paigey!💗

of course! What is it?

y/n

so um I have to move to California tomorrow..

Paigey!💗

what?..

y/n i

I’m sorry I just found out about this..

Paigey!💗

We will still keep in touch, right?

y/n

of course i would never forget about you!

Paigey!💗

that’s all that matters!

y/n liked “that’s all that matters

the next day at the airport, I couldn’t stop thinking about Paige I honestly hope she comes out of nowhere and hugs me tight for the last time. this morning before she woke up, I texted her “I luv you!” as we were boarding the plane tears came to my eyes thinking about her, but at least we’ll still talk..

5 years later..

as I was making my pancakes I got a text from Paige

Paigey!💗

omg y/n guess what!!

Y/n

what?

Paigey!💗

I got into UConn!

y/n

omg thats amazing!

Paigey!💗

ikr!

I felt beyond happy for Paige and that’s when I knew that I was probably gonna go there too. The next day I texted her again.

Paigey!💗

y/n

hey Paige quick question! Your doing basketball in college right?

no response. Hours turned into days and days turned into Weeks and Weeks turned into years

2 years later (reader is 18)

when I graduated, I had a GPA of 3.5 and then I got the email I got accepted into UConn! I felt super super happy and I told my family, but there was one other person I wanted to tell too..

Paigey!💗 y/n

hey Paige quick question! Your doing basketball in college right?

y/n

hey Paige guess what? I got into UConn! Still no response.

First day on campus!

I was so excited to finally be at UConn and honestly, I met some very great people. I met one girl name, Heather and another named Juliana! They’re both really sweet! “ so you’re a dancer, right?” Heather asked. “ Yeah but I can’t go to competition now since I’m in college” “well this is my second year here and I think you will probably be the best on the dance team here at UConn!” “ really you think so?” I ask Juliana “ yeah of course because really the girls here aren’t too flexible but since you are a competition dancer, you have to have a lot of flexibility for that. I think you’ll be perfect. Maybe you’ll even the captain of the team!” Heather says. “Well, when are tryouts?” I ask “I think next week on Monday” Juliana says “not to long.. do you know how they set it up? like if you have to make up your own dance or learn it?” I ask “I think you’re supposed to make up your own dance.” Heather says. “Alright so I have about a week to make up a dance.. sweet!” I say “welp I got to go to class” “same” Heather and Juliana say “oh well bye!” “Bye n/n” they say in sync welp I guess I’m alone now! As I’m walking around campus a curly haired girl approached me “ hey I assuming this is your first year!” “Uh yeah it is!” I say “ I’m azzi nice to meet you!” She says excitedly “ oh well I’m y/n nice to meet ya too!” “Let me show you my friends!” Before I knew it I’m getting pulled to a group of girls “guys meet y/n this her first year where!” “Uh hi!” “Hey girly I’m kk!” “Wait a second.. y/n?” A voice says “uh yea?” I asked “omg it’s really you!” Out of nowhere a tall blonde hugged me “omg Paige I missed you!” I muffle in her shirt “I missed you even more..” she says

after class we meet up at the library to chat and catch up when I arrive. I see Paige leaning on a wall watching her phone whenever she sees me her face brightens. “Y/n I miss you so much over the past seven years!” Shes pulls me into another hug “ I miss you too, but when I tried texting you, you never responded?” “ I’m really sorry about that. I was focused with basketball and all and I got a new number!” “ oh, can I get it?” “Yea ofc!” After she puts her information on my phone. She looks at her old contact name. “ did you really have to put it as paigey?” She laughs. “ I mean, I was 11 and plus I always called you that!” I chuckle “true” she say “ I actually wanted to tell you something..” I say unsure “ of course you can tell me anything!” “ We’ve I liked you for a long time now..” after I said that she looked at me with a intense stare, but at the same time soft “ I have too ever since you helped me about those girls making fun of me” she says softly. “Really?” “Really” that made my heart really warm “ so does that mean we’re together?” I ask “it sure does baby!” Then she kisses me. No too hungry but slow and sweet “meet me at my dorm tonight” she says her voice huskier “ I don’t even know your dorm number?” I say “I’ll text it to you” “all right well I’ll see you tonight” “love you!” “Love you too!”

I knock on the door that Paige texted

almost the door swung open I see a tall blonde “hey sweetheart” she says softly “hey babes!” I say “come in!” As I walk in she asks “wanna watch a movie?” “Sure!” Was we settle on the couch she grabs a large blanket and drapes it over us “what do you want to watch?” I ask “let’s watch black phone!” She exclaims “what is that?” I ask “oh trust me you’ll love it!” “Okay..” I say unsure

in the middle of the movie I feel her hand slide on my thigh, i don’t say anything and let it happen, then she looks at me and says “can i?” I slowly nod and turn back to watch the movie. As I’m watching the movie I felt her hand slip in my underwear and rub my clit two fingers. i softy moan and throw my head back “you like that huh?” “Mhm..” then she slips her middle and ring finger in my hole I moan loudly, she pumps them in and out as I start to moan louder, as she goes faster I’m ready to cum “paigey I’m gonna-“ “don’t cum yet hold it for me princess” I just whimper In response “good girl” after a few minutes she says “cum all over my fingers baby” I moan loudly and cum on her fingers. But she doesn’t stop pumping her fingers in me “oh Paige!” I shout “yes baby” she says softly “I-i-I can take it!” I shout “yes you can baby and you’re gonna take it like a good girl” she says “oh Paige oh fuck!-“ I shout “god your walls feel so fucking good around my fingers” she says “PAIGE OH FUCK IM REALLY REALLYY CLOSE FUCKKK!-“ I yell “cum on my fingers baby girl” my vision goes completely white and moan even louder, after I cum she takes her fingers and takes it to her mouth “mm you taste so good my love” she pulls me in her lap and strokes my head “I love you so so sooo much” I say “I love you even more”

Note: 2nd book down! (the smut took me so long to make because I kept cringing😭). Tag list: @bxeckersz @talksoprettyjjx @melpthatsme @mypersonaldiaryyyyyyy

[kulemiwrites]

Taiga Saejima | NSFW AtoZ

Rating: 18+ Character(s): Taiga Saejima Warning: When I do these, they act sort of as my guidelines that I follow for when I am writing smut of the character in question. Obviously, these are headcanons but some of these headcanons are lore heavy- based on things I’ve come up with over the years. Privately or publicly. If something seems out of character or doesn’t make sense to you, that may be why! I hope you can try to enjoy it anyway. Bear in mind that while gender neutral pronouns and terms of endearment are used, this was written with female anatomy in mind. 

Read on AO3

OG AtoZ can be found here

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

His body damn near overheats no matter the intensity of his performance. Once he’s spent, he’s torn between wanting space to cool off or making his body heat his partner’s problem by smothering them. He usually takes his partner’s needs into account though. He’d hate for them to feel used because he’s done what he needed to do and left them to fend for themselves. If they’re a bit on the needy side, he may wrap them in blankets (if applicable) and pull them onto his chest while leaving himself stretched out next to them completely uncovered– After he’s cracked a window and/or turned on a fan, of course. 

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He really appreciates his eyes. He acknowledges that he’s got ‘good’ ones. They’re sharp, keen and he’s heard a few times that they’re not so bad to look at either. He’s not entirely sure about that last part but he’ll give some credit where it’s due. He’s quite perceptive and his eyesight has yet to fail him with age– not everyone is blessed enough to say something like that. Nothing ever gets past his peepers without him knowing. Plus, with his eyes he can take in his lover as they sprawl out beneath him. He can’t imagine a world in which he has to miss out on a benefit like that. He’s a firm believer in the phrase “we eat first with our eyes.”

Taiga is a self admitted ‘sucker for a pair of legs’. While he does have his preferences, he adores all types of legs. No matter what his partner’s legs look like, he’s going to be dragging his tongue along them til they have no choice but to wrap them around his head. He likes to see them bare, he likes to see them covered up in something form fitting. He likes it all.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

A pearlescent white and viscous. His loads are typically pretty generous but it does depend on how long it’s been since the last time. It thins out a bit with frequency. It’s not uncommon for him to pant out the question, ‘where do you want it?’ right before he lets go. If his partner has no preference and he’s not using protection (because if he were, why the hell would he bother to pull out?), he likes to slip out and stroke himself until he’s painted his partner’s legs with sticky, warm seed.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He had a decent sex life before his 1st stint in prison, a little lady he often spent his time with but after getting locked up she didn’t so much as send him a letter. He supposed the shock of hearing what he’d done frightened her. During his first years behind bars, he spent many nights reflecting on old memories of her company but once he realized she wanted nothing to do with him, he tried to shut them out. He didn’t see any benefits in riling himself up anyway. He knew of people that were regularly getting off in their cells to contraband materials, like snuck photos and magazine clip-outs or sometimes trying, and failing to stealthily relieve themselves in the shower. He didn’t want his libido to control him so he worked on maintaining his celibacy until he got out. It drove him nuts in the beginning but after some time, he never even thought about it. Once he finally got out, he was interested in sex but it was so far down on his to-do list, he had no desire to seek it out. If it would happen, then it would happen… And finally it did.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Referencing his dirty secret, he had a decent sex life. He had a couple partners from the time he first became sexually active to the time he was imprisoned. After that, his experience building obviously took a standstill. He lets his instincts carry him but he can be pretty clumsy without realizing. 

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

He almost always goes for positions that allow him to rest his partners’ legs on his shoulders, such as this. Having their legs right there full view and within reach is enough to rile him up just as a visual. Not only does he get to show his affection to his favorite part of his lover, he can also reach deep within them and hear their toes crack near his ears as they curl and flex. It’s amusing after the fact but during? He’s just deep set on ripping as many sounds out of them as possible.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Yet again referencing the previous point, there are moments in which he finds himself amused by his partner but when he gets aroused there is not much that can disrupt his one track mind. He’s so focused on getting off and making sure he’s not neglecting his partner’s needs in the process that he doesn’t think to smile about it until well after the fact. He gets sort of intense when he’s riled up. 

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He’s hairy as all hell. His arms and legs are hairy and he’s got a noticeable happy trail leading down to the jungle that is his pubic hair. He’s got a lot of thick, dark, straggly hair that he hardly bothers to maintain. If he receives a complaint from his partner, then AND ONLY THEN will he give it a bit of a trim. Emphasis on a bit. Sure, he realizes he’s got hair going all between his ass cheeks but he just doesn’t see the point in getting rid of it if it’s just going to come back and itch the hell out of him in the process. 

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…) 

It cannot be expressed enough how deeply he gets lost in the act of sex. He just shuts the world out and nothing exists but himself and the person he’s sharing the moment with. Feeling them, taking them in, appreciating their body– his mind is a scrambled mess and unless his partner knows how to read him, they have no idea what’s going on behind that intense gaze of his.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Truly he can go without it. He’d much rather go for the real thing. When he was younger though, he couldn’t keep his hands out of his pants. He chalks his ability to abstain up to what he did while being locked up for 25 years. 

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Light Bondage- Hand binding most specifically- while he knows that he should have an aversion for the act of his wrists being bound, it does turn him on when being restricted from acting out on his desires. He can only handle it for so long before his impatience turns into something else. He wouldn’t mind being blindfolded as well. On the whole, these are things that his partner would have to suggest. He wouldn’t even know that it’s something he’s aroused by until the person he wants to bury himself in is the one doing it.

Lingerie- Not a kink but fetish. He gets really turned on by lingerie. Seeing someone dressed up with the sole purpose of enticing him is more than enough to rev up his engine. And while it isn’t lingerie, he thinks hosiery is sexy as all hell and he loves to see all different types. He may be prone to ripping holes in them– so maybe his partner should be wary of being intimate with him while wearing their favorite stockings?

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

He thinks that public sex is wildly attractive in theory. In practice, not so much. He wouldn’t be able to pay attention to his surroundings as well as he should to avoid getting caught because he just locks in on his partner. That said, he enjoys lazy romps on the couch during a movie or having his partner straddling him while he sits in a chair. Otherwise, bed, it is.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Someone being turned on by him turns him on. To Taiga, there is nothing sexier than being wanted. All his partner really has to do is give him a look or a few suggestive touches before his blood starts pumping. Another thing is his appreciation for sudden shyness. If his partner is typically bold but starts to clam up while beneath him, he will do things to burn them up with embarrassment. 

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Breath play freaks him out. He’s heard stories of erotic asphyxiation gone wrong and he wants no part in it. He knows how intense he can get during sex and he wouldn’t want that to be the cause of the beginning of a horror story. He wouldn’t want someone doing it to him either, even if he trusts his partner, he can’t trust himself to understand his limits.  

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He prefers to be the receiver. He’s not too confident in his skills in this regard but he will try if his partner is interested. He hasn’t been on the receiving end of many compliments in that department but he is very open to criticism. Too low? Too high? Prefer this motion? You got it! After all, he does try not to be selfish. 

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

It truly depends on how aroused he is. His default is a pretty quick and sharp but steady pace. He likes to hear the sound of applause filling the room. However, sometimes, he enjoys a nice and slow pace– lazy strokes, busy hands, lots of kisses. 

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Yes, please. He really only lasts as long as a partner would prefer him too. He doesn’t have to have a long drawn out session to feel satisfied. He’s definitely a little more selfish during a quickie. If he knows he doesn’t have much time to get the job done, it’s almost like every man for himself then. If his partner needs more attention, they’ll have to tell him because otherwise, he’s sort of just chasing his own high.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He’s open to most things that a partner could possibly recommend. If he hears that his partner feels like things are getting stale, he’ll be the first to suggest they brainstorm with him to come up with things to spice things up a bit. 

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Sex with him is typically a one and done. The length of each bout of passion varies on his needs and his partners. All he personally needs is 10-15 minutes when he’s in the mood but he tries to understand that his partner may require a bit more effort than that. If his partner hasn’t expressed a preference for a longer session, he will cum with, if not, shortly after they do. 

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Isn’t he all the toy his partner needs? He’s almost prideful about how much he believes toys have no place in his bedroom. It would take lots, (and lots cannot be stressed enough) convincing to get him to change his mind on that. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Sometimes if he’s feeling a little mischievous, teasing is the name of the game but he’s not very good at sticking to it. He gets so turned on by the reactions to his teasing that he forgets what he might have been doing in the first place. When the tables are turned and he’s the one being teased though? He’s dying on the inside. He just wants the games to end and for his partner to get to the point. One may say that he can dish it but he can’t take it.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Aside from panting heavily, he’s not very loud. He gets off to the sounds his partner makes, so he prefers not to overshadow them. He does tend to let out a curse or deep groan from time to time. He’s at his noisiest right as he’s about to cum. Lots of loud ‘Hah’s and some equivalent of ‘oh shit’ spilling from them plush lips.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He finds that he is sort of fascinated by shibari. He’s not sure if he’d ever get around to practicing it with someone but the thought is pretty exciting. He’s mostly certain that he would have a preference for being the rigger but considering how turned on he gets from having his hands bound, he can’t help but wonder…

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

He’s hung– quite. It’s a marvel, really. He’s a grower and my, are looks deceiving. Before erect, he gives the impression that he’s much less endowed than he actually is. He’s about average in length measuring at a tad over 6 inches and his cock is phat. Capital P– with a leaky mushroom tip. Depending on his lover, he may be a little difficult to take the first time. So, he tries to make sure he gives his partner a moment to adjust to the sheer girth before he starts going to town on them. 

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

As far as he’s concerned, he’s just as horny as the next guy. His libido is about average. It could probably be higher if not for age and also just him actively suppressing his urges for so long. If he’s in a relationship, it’s easy for him to meet them where they’re at. If that means he gets to have more sex, then great! If it means less, then, well… 

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)He tries to fight it but he gets sleepy as soon as he’s done. His eyes get heavy and even when he’s got somewhere to be, he can’t resist the urge to rest them for just a moment. For this reason, he prefers not to have a quickie if he’s got plans. He just might not make it. Doesn’t mean he’ll turn it down though.

[glowstickblood]

Sure I'll bite, what are your thoughts on Nightwing?

HOLY F U C K

You do not know what you have just done <3

So first of all, I was a teen titans kid: specifically StarFire. She was my home girl, she was an alien existence with strange customs and unique way of speaking and she was sweet and had trouble understanding others and I was obsessed. And…. She likes Robin, aka Dick Grayson, the OG.

Back then, Robin was cool but he wasn’t my favourite, but it was the first time I can really recall him catching my attention,, mostly because he had Kori’s attention and I loved Kori.

Honestly I didn’t really get into DC much. I was a Marvel prefereer for a while (<- lies, I just liked spider-man like literally everyone else) and though I had heard of the batfamily before in passing (an animation YouTuber I liked did some stuff for them once or twice) they didn’t mean much to me.

For me it was Batman and Robin,,,, and Robin was Dick Grayson.

I don’t really remember how it happened, but I do recall somewhere 2ish years ago that something prompted me to go searching for Nightwing’s Wikipedia page.

Now those of you NDs know what happens when something catches your attention in that oh-so-very-peak way and you enter what I like to call Stage 7.

I, no joke, read every single wiki article and post I could find anout Dick Grayson for 24 hours straight. I didn’t sleep, I barely ate, and I don’t remember anything other than the endless hunger for knowledge until I inevitably collapsed.

So,,, why?

Well honestly it’s rather complex!

I don’t talk too much about myself online, mostly because I don’t feel much of a need to, but I’m sure you can glean a few things: mostly that I’m a 1st gen immigrant with autism, asexuality and a enby identity (just like half the population on tumblr lmao) and that gave/gives me a whole cocktail of fun issues and perspectives of the world.

I’m not sure how much you know about Dick’s story or personality, but simplifying it down to a single sentence it would probably be this: An endlessly angry child has forged himself into a kind and charismatic hero for the sake of other people.

He is angry, and bitter and fighting so goddamn hard to be kind. He is overtly sexualised by people in-universe and in-fandom. He gives away all of himself even if he doesn’t realise he does. He is on a never ending journey to meet, match, and exceed the expectations placed upon him even to the detriment of himself and others. The bar grows ever higher.

People have an unconsciously bad habit of comparing ourselves to others and it is generally agreed upon that to live a healthy life you will have to spend the entire time fighting against that habit. The fight never ends as we never stop interacting with each other, but it does get easier with time. This pinprick point of tension is a core element of a lot of the stories told when it comes to Nightwing interacting with other characters, and a running theme throughout my own life.

For a very long time I competed against the world, against my family, against my friends, against the characters in stories I was told, basically everyone. I was the underdog, I was always fighting, and soon enough I was winning just as much as I was loosing. It was fun and it made me miserable because no matter how well I did the was always another person was better. I was never the best, I couldn’t be, and I hated myself for it… Until I realised the standards I held myself too so loudly and proudly started making my friends miserable too.

(To be honest I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop trying to raise the bar for myself higher, but I sure as hell know better than to make that other people’s problems. It’s an ongoing WIP against a very human flaw in myself, just as it is for Dick.)

Another element of his character that appeals to me is the anger; specifically that he is not seen as angry much anymore.

As a character his anger is justified. It is righteous even. The world took from him, hurt him, and continues to challenge him even now. He has every single reason to be bitter and full of rage,,, and he is! Except also no he isn’t.

The general current interpretation of Dick is as a playful and kind older brother figure.

He is flawed sure, but in a way that makes him more ‘approachable’. He is the comforting Robin; He’s the one you’d go to after a breakup to cry and eat ice cream or to go gush about your favourite hobbies to. He is the mediator of the batfamily, managing the emotions of both himself and others (especially Batman). The endless bright burning rage has been buried beneath a soft exterior, he has sanded down his own edges. He controls and seems to give away just enough to make him feel grounded, but never enough to feel like he’s truly known.

One of the worst part about growing older for me is how terribly easy it is to understand other people now. Rarely do the people who hurt us the worst want to do so, the villains of this world are seldom (if ever) people you meet in real life. It’s so fucking easy to hurt each other. It’s so fucking easy to blame people when they hurt you. To make monsters out of molehills.

And yet!

And yet…

I understand. I wish I didn’t, but I do. I am so very very angry, but my kindness is a thing with teeth I tamed with love, and it eats my anger for breakfast.

The way I love and he loves, in my mind, is the same. I understand and he understands in a way I want too, and it’s so easy to let people hurt us because of that. Depending on the version you’re reading of him, maybe that person who hurts him is a super villain, or a friend, or an obliviously obtuse civilian or even the batfamily and Batman himself (Spyral, WFA Joker arc, Grant Wilson, Tarantula, being Batman during the Bruce lost time-stream arc, all of Jason’s existence, etc.). Either way, same outcome: you love and care for people who hurt you and are flawed.

Nevertheless, Dick Grayson, aka Robin, aka Nightwing, has been around for more than 80 years now. His story has been told hundreds, thousands, millions of times. It’s been twisted and shifted and re-told all over again. And while his tenants core stays the same (save for a bad writer of course) he gets different lighting for every occasion. Playing and talking about him is more flexible in a way a lot of characters with a single cannon source (I.e. books and movies) are not. His existence gives me a lot of room to play and project.

He can be the good big brother, the proud leader, the angry teenager, the betrayed son, the beautiful idol, the grand hero, or any mask the story requires him to play. That flexibility is within the core of his very character. He loves, he is angry, he is so terribly inhuman in all the best ways he is not, and I love him because of that.

TLDR: He is relatable to me and I fuck with that <3

[olderthannetfic]

Reading some of the recent-ish asks on your blog got me thinking about 1st person fic. I personally am not fond of it, but I think it’s largely a matter of characterization? It’s already difficult for a lot of writers to get character voice across in dialogue, so sustaining it in personal narration over an entire fic can be even more of a challenge.

And if a writer is able to keep a consistent character voice, it then runs into the problem of whether my idea of that character’s internal narration matches this particular fic writer’s. Most of the time, it does not, with the only common exception I’ve seen being fics where the canon includes either some mind reading or first-person narration from the character in question.

The end result is that I am very quick to back out of a fic written in first-person, not because I think it’s a bad style but because I don’t have confidence in the character voice fitting what I want from that fandom.

On the other hand, I am completely open to professional and original fic written in first person, mostly because I am being introduced to a new character with the perspective already established. I am also more open to reading a first-person fic from a side character or OC point of view than from a main character or one I’m strongly attached to, though those run into the same issues as all OC fic do (personal preference being minimal OC focus, but I have greatly enjoyed “outsider perspective” fics in this style in the past).

First person just feels like a very specific tool, and I’ve definitely read fic where it was used poorly, but mostly I’ve decided I’m not really up for taking the gamble when I have other options to explore. A lot of the worst first-person fic I’ve read have definitely felt like the perspective was an excuse to “tell not show”, often with alternating perspectives so you could be sure both sides of the ship thought the other was really hot! I don’t think it’s necessarily a bad thing, but it’s not something I personally find satisfying or seek out for my own enjoyment.

To me, first person is most effective to build intimacy and character depth with the perspective character and their interactions with the world around them. When it’s done well, it’s spectacular for strong character identity.

--

I think people underestimate how much third needs to show characterization in narration to be good, but yeah, first is more in your face when it sucks.

[chibrary]

INTERVIEW: "Ferrari, I won't stop believing in it. I see myself as world champion" (La Repubblica, 2022)

source: alessandra retico, la repubblica published: june 15th, 2022 series: f1, 2022

excerpts:

Do you envy Verstappen at all? No and I don't think he envies anything about me either. We are two different drivers, I focus on myself to be the best version of myself, I will never be someone else. I am happy with my development and will continue to evolve.

You're very tidy on the track, are you also very tidy in your private life? No, I'm messy. I reserve order and discipline for motorsport.

In the film [Lightyear], there is a kiss between two women that has already created controversy: does it surprise you? For me, homosexuality is a completely normal thing, I have gay friends, I don't understand how today there are people who don't understand that love is for everyone. F1 must lend a hand to those who don't have such a powerful voice to express difficulties in everyday life.

They have given you many names: predestined, prince, which one do you recognize yourself in? They are all positive and make me very happy, but what I like most is what my father gave me, pins à roulettes when I started racing, I was 4-5 years old, I was all small and you could only see the big helmet.

Were you never afraid? No, never, even if looking back at the accidents I tell myself I was lucky.

What did you buy with your first paycheck? A 1969 Fiat 500, off-white, convertible. The side-by-side? I didn't have too much trouble driving it. Then I went to Indonesia in Bali with my best friends.

A pinhead with wheels underneath. The yellow helmet was so big and he was so small, that his father called him pins à roulettes: "It's the image that corresponds to me and I like best about myself." Even though Dad Hervé is no longer here, Charles Leclerc still goes fast and stings the heart with the same ardor as when he was a child. He has a Ferrari to do it. "I want to become world champion , I will believe in it until it is no longer mathematically possible." Six poles in 8 grands prix but only 2 successes, now he is 3rd behind the Red Bulls of Verstappen and Perez. Two retirements in the last 3 races (Barcelona and Baku) due to reliability problems, in the middle his very bitter Monte Carlo: from 1st to 4th due to a mix-up of strategies. His engine is in Maranello: in Montreal he will fit a new one, to be determined if he will need a fourth turbo which would cost him a penalty.

Still optimistic? I will never give up, this has always been my mentality. I want to win, the World Cup is long. We have to understand the problems we had, they were three tough blows. Not an easy moment, but this doesn't change my motivation.

Doesn't reliability worry you? No, but a lot of attention is needed, the customer teams also had problems. But I have faith in this team and once the problems have been resolved, the pace and performance are there. I believe in it. I may be crazy, but I also believed in the two previous seasons as soon as I put the visor down, even though I could aim for a 10th place at most. This year we're really there, we just need to focus on ourselves and solve the problems as soon as possible. It's an important championship, we have a great opportunity to do well. There is too much positivity when things go well and too much negativity when they go badly. We need to find a balance.

Did you sleep after Munich? I did it, even if it hurt. But already in Baku I reset and got back in very good shape. It will be the same here in Montreal too.

How do you recover from disappointment after delusion? I know well what it means and what it feels like when you win, it's one of the few things that give me such great happiness. It's this that drives me to train every morning. This year we should have had more successes than we have for the reasons we know, but I'm sure it's just a matter of time to get back to where we want to be.

Do you need more calm or a winning mentality? Everyone has their own way of arriving at things. For me, being calm and concentration are fundamental. And when there is an excess of emotions it is important to return to your own bubble without being disturbed.

Do you have anything special about qualifying? I don't know, you can make a difference on the flying lap, because every mistake you make costs you in the end. For now it's gone well, I understand the car enough. But I'm also happy with the race which was my weak point in 2019, I worked on it and I think I improved a lot.

Compared to your partner, Sainz, you seem to have more confidence with the car. I can't speak for Carlos, this year I prepared better than in the past. Lots of simulator and in the pre-season tests I tried things that perhaps didn't make sense but I didn't want to overlook anything and be as ready as possible for the first race, there I wanted to be where I am and give it my all. It paid off. These new cars are difficult to drive and the details of going fast have changed. All the drivers have made mistakes and it's up to me to make as few as possible. I take risks, like in Imola. Even when you can't see it. I think it's the right approach and for now I'm happy.

Do you envy Verstappen at all? No and I don't think he envies anything about me either. We are two different riders, I focus on myself to be the best version of myself, I will never be someone else. I am happy with my development and will continue to evolve.

How did you miss the plane to Montreal? I went home on Monday. The flight from Nice to Paris was delayed. So I missed the connection but then I arrived safe and on time.

You're very tidy on the track, are you also very tidy in your private life? No, I'm messy. I reserve order and discipline for motorsport.

What do you write in the notebooks you read during free practice?

Everything: my feelings on the car and the things I want to try on the track. I get lots of ideas so I write them down so I don't forget them. And I write them in pen so I'm sure I'll find them again, before I used an app on the tablet which often deleted it all.

You voiced a character in the Disney Pixar film, Lightyear: The True Story of Buzz . Do you feel like a superhero? No. I feel like a normal person, even if I do a sport, I don't call it work, very special which isn't for everyone. I'm just lucky.

In the film there is a kiss between two women that has already created controversy, does it surprise you? For me homosexuality is a completely normal thing, I have gay friends, I don't understand how today there are people who don't understand that love is for everyone. F1 must lend a hand to those who don't have such a powerful voice to express difficulties in everyday life.

What are you like in everyday life? I have a routine: diet, gym, rest. Discipline is the biggest change I've made. In a year like this I want to be at 110% for 22 races. Will we get to 24? I'll be even fitter.

They have given you many names: predestined, prince, which one do you recognize yourself in? They are all positive and make me very happy, but what I like most is what my father gave me, pins à roulettes when I started racing, I was 4-5 years old, I was all small and you could only see the big helmet.

You play the piano. If F1 were a musical genre, what would it be? A very strange mix between classical and rock and roll. I think it's an exercise in adaptation between aggressiveness in qualifying and gentleness in tire management in the race. Playing helps me, I did it as a child, my brother Arthur is very good, I I started again during the pandemic by taking back the piano that was from my mother.

Don't you sing? Sometimes in the shower. Out of tune? I don't know, I just wouldn't have the courage to do it in front of someone. Poor Seagull sung in Bahrain? A joke with some of the team. I prefer to invent on the piano, it's something I share with my girlfriend Charlotte who will become an architect in two months. Like me, she is very creative.

Is creativity also useful for being a pilot? You need speed, precision, concentration. And courage. Let's take Jedda: a very fast track, close walls. There you feel the risk you're taking but you have to go and not think about it, this is what I like about this sport. I know it's dangerous, but I like to play with limits.

Were you never afraid? No, never, even if looking back at the accidents I tell myself I was lucky.

What did you buy with your first paycheck? A 1969 Fiat 500, off-white, convertible. The side-by-side? I didn't have too much trouble driving it. Then I went to Indonesia in Bali with my best friends.

You love fashion, when will your first clothing line be launched? I would like to do it in the future, it is one of my passions, I believe that fashion is a means of expressing oneself without speaking. For now I am content with wearing things that I like. My mind is busy trying to win the Championship.

Have you already booked your summer holidays? In Sardinia with my friends on my Riva boat. Then in Ibiza with the family, but I remain focused: gym and equipment within reach.

Who will you cheer for at the World Cup in Qatar? Since there is no Monaco and Italy, France.

How do you see yourself at the end of the year? World champion and that's it.

[orionpolanosnox]

June 3rd // June 4th

My Flint ate less and less in the second half of the last week of May before he stopped eating altogether in the afternoon on sunday June 1st.

No improvement on monday. It actually got worse because he didn't drink as much as he usually does because of his renal problems. I asked my boss first thing in the morning on tuesday if she could help me get to the vet. I don't have a driving license and family and friends all work and/or live further away. Her car broke down the day before but she immediately texted her husband (my other boss) explaining the situation and asking for his car.

The plan was to go to the vet in the afternoon after I was done with work. Thank God my boss told me to call them that morning. They had changed their hours and wouldn't have been open past 11.30am. So I told my colleague and got to work.

I work at a boarding stable and one of our boarders is this vet's assistant and funnily enough she was in that day. I don't know her very well but I like her. She's a patient and friendly if quiet woman. This was my first time there. I moved here last May and my boss had nothing but praise for this vet. She has three cats herself and we have two barn cats on the farm.

Flint used to be a stray. He was caught and neutered at some point. (He has the tell tale clean rectangular nick in his ear.) He was released back into the world and I knew that he wasn't young anymore. I guessed Flint's age around 12+. The vet guessed his age more around 15+. He got a pick-me-up and antibiotics because of irregular lung sounds and a palpable liver.

I knew that he wasn't young anymore and having buried my sister's and my childhood cats in 2023 I hoped for the best but there's no cure for age. I didn't think he'll make it.

After returning from the vet the first thing Flint did was to drink a lot which made me really happy but nothing changed about his food intake that day or on wednesday morning. During my lunch break that day I brought some snack paste from Aldi I only got once before after Flint stopped eating his wet food in February. (More on that here: https://orionpolanosnox.tumblr.com/post/777939579963588608/my-sweet-sweet-baby-flints-deaf-night-blind-and)

That was the turning point.

In an afford to get him to eat I offered him everything on sunday. Kibble with his favourite treats on the site, wet food and my lactose free milk he gets from time to time. Flint didn't touch any of it except for a little bit of milk after the vet visit.

Flint went crazy for the snack paste though and I offered him some wet food after. I still don't know why I did but now he eats wet food again! I still mix it with his renal drink or the snack paste even though he ate it without on wednesday. Better save than sorry.

I can't believe his luck! I was never so happy to clean a litter box!

Flint's deaf and screams/makes noises no matter what he does. That's why I never let him sleep in my bed at night before. He used to sleep in the breakfast nook in the kitchen but I wasn't sure if he'd make it so I let him sleep with me on tuesday. I know he'd like to stay with me at night. It was bad and I didn't get much sleep but it didn't matter.

Even after he started eating again on wednesday I didn't have the heart to kick Flint out of my room at night. I love him so much and after 3 days I'm slowly adjusting to him sleeping with me. I "only" woke up twice last night.

I feel really bad right now. I love my old man to the moon and back. Always have. It took me 7 month before I could even pet him. I did nothing wrong but looming death does make sure that you feel a lot of regret.

The last 10 days have been an emotional rollercoaster for me but I want to end this on a positive note.

Every new day is another opportunity to do good, to change course or to just live and discard yesterday's mindless worries. You "wasted" today? Good news! There will be another day tomorrow!

[myjunkisyuzuruhanyu]

This is just a looong thought on skating and technique...I am sure not everyone will agree with me but does that matter to me? We can agree to disagree bc neither you nor me are judges or the ISU 🤷

No matter what you think about Shoma's jumps especially the "beloved" 4F some ppl get so worked up about today again for the 544373th time in Shoma's career but truly besides skating fans who love the technical side of it and ppl who need something to complain about anyway imo most fans and casual watchers don't really care about technique. And why is that? Because most ppl can't tell jumps apart anyway, because most ppl are not interested in whether it's "perfect" technique or not, and as for Shoma because Shoma had a brilliant clean skate, because Shoma is drawing ppl in with his performance and not with his jumps and bc Shoma definetly deserved 1st place with a margin today. So really what's all the fuss about?

Some haters make it sound like Shoma getting high scores with his skate is the end of skating. I never in my entire fandom experience saw anyone say "oh Shoma or many other skaters with similar problem does not have perfect technique I am torn away by the sport because of it"...ppl come for the pretty, for the performance to the music, and yes jumps are cool and all but this is not what makes ppl stay in the fandom or get attached to skaters! Am I wrong?

Shoma is right when he said that the emphasis nowadays is too much on jumps and skating isn't this popular anymore in the world and he wants to put more emphasis on the artistry because artistic performances draw ppl to the sport. Frankly skaters not making it through their programs without falls or skate without emotion won't help making skating more popular. In the 6.0 system no one cared for the "right" technique of the jumps or underrotations it was all about the performance and if you landed your jumps. I don't pretend to understand the 6.0 system and I also don't want it back bc this system is fairer but tbh technique even today is really not the most important part of this sport imo. If some are keen on perfect technique then let's make a jumping contest and grade who has the best technique?

Ask yourself when you watched skating for the first time, did you care for the technical part or for the artistry? Did you like a skater because of their performance first or because of their technical stuff? Could you tell the jumps apart? Could you see what is UR and not? I for sure did neither know nor cared about anything technial. Did it make you NOT watch the sport bc someone had a "bad" technique? I guess not.

Ofc it's still a sport and jumps are an important part of it and ofc you have to evaluate them in a way and yes admittedly scoring is very controversial a lot of times and ISU needs reforms and more accountability of judges BUT it doesn't mean the wrong ppl win. Do I agree on all scores Shoma or anyone else gets? No I don't, but anyone seeing the protocols sees that judges aren't exactly agreeing on everything either. There is still a lot of subjectivity and anyone denying the subjective part is delusional, but there are rules in place and Shoma is neither breaking any rules nor does he judge himself and tbh if ISU would have put an emphasis on jumping technique they would never have validated Shoma's 4F in the first place bc it's not like he was never jumping it like this, tbh it actually was even much worse. This is Shoma's 9th season and the 9th season Shoma's 4F was ratified as such...for me at this point the same and same and same discussions about technique are really the least important part of skating...and it looks like ISU thinks just the same oops

So how about enjoying ice ART skating! Like the German word "Eiskunstlauf" puts the emphasis on ART in skating and I think the full package with artistry and jumps is more important than perfect technique.

And Shoma has the full package. He has the difficulty, he has the jumps even if not with "perfect" technique, he emotes to the audience, he makes ppl feel and get attached to skating, he has great deep edges, skates at lightning speed, he's a king at upper body movement and so much more. He is a brilliant skater and ppl who fail to see it just miss out on a wonderful skater. No one says Shoma's perfect but for me personally he comes pretty close. 😌

[reimulin]

do you guys want to see my American Idiot plot manifesto? no? i don't care, here it is anyway

(under cut)

no i did not watch the American Idiot musical for this. also wake me up when September ends is not included because BJA has stated that it isn't part of the album's story.

i exercised a little bit of artistic liberty but for the most part this is accurate. ok maybe a lot of artistic liberty. i basically ocified the characters but WHATEVER. ok thank you please enjoy ^^

THE GOSPEL OF THE JESUS OF SUBURBIA

Characters:

Jesús O. Salvador: Middle name unknown. 1st generation Mexican immigrant who now lives in Jingletown (Oakland, California). Nicknames: JOS (pronounced Johss), the Jesus of Suburbia, St. Jimmy (alter ego). 15 (debatably).

“Wisteriya”: Given name Amanda, last name unknown. Mostly just referred to as Whatsername, as Jesús avoids saying her name. (Got the name from squinting really hard at the covered up name in the American Idiot physical lyric book)

Tunar “Tunny” Qurbanov: Jesús’s friend he met in The City. Off the boat Azerbaijani immigrant who makes it big in New York.

Timeline:

(2004) cw for everything under the sun

direct/credible sources: american idiot cd booklet, genius lyrics

narrative speculation/inspiration: "why green day matters" by fort collins productions (youtube), "saint jimmy" by ussnicole (archiveofourown)

February 23rd: (American Idiot) Jesús writes his first diary entry/poem, an angry piece about the government, 9/11, and the dead end he feels like he has reached. While this entry outlines his basic beliefs about the world, it isn’t very important to his personal story.

March 3rd: (Jesus of Suburbia) The “Jesus of Suburbia” suite is born. The first act is more teenage angst, as was in the last entry. However, this one is more focused on his own situation. His step-father (Brad) is a horrible man of Rage, and his mother is a devout Christian of Love, but she lets his father’s behavior slide. He believes himself to be somewhat like his namesake, and he is the most self-centered kid in the world. He centers his religious beliefs around himself, a product of the divided and individualistic country that raised him. Jesús believes the problem is society, not himself. His Christ complex has taken over his mind, and he compares wasting his life away with drugs and tv to crucifixion.

Jesús, when not at home, mainly hangs out at the 7/11. He describes the 7/11 and Jingletown in general as the “City of the Dead”, a place where no one comes or goes, and if you’re born there, you’re stuck there. The graffiti in the 7/11 bathroom, some by those who came before him, some by Jesús himself, is regarded by him to be his own Bible. Likewise, he feels like he is the culmination of this graffiti Bible, fulfilling the prophecies written on the walls. But the bathroom is not only the Bible for him; it’s also the center of the earth, and his own hell. His belief system is a little bit confusing. He’s only 15(?), after all.

After he writes about all of this, he begins to break down, entering the third act of his suite. He screams into the paper about how nobody cares, and neither does he. He sees the world as a bunch of hypocrites who don’t care to understand him. Here he reveals his “kids of war and peace”, his group of freshmen who follow his every word like his disciples. He cares about them, but his own self-centeredness gets in the way of forming a real connection beyond that of their leader.

Now that he is thinking of them, he writes a cryptic draft of a letter that he will eventually give to his disciples, titled “Dearly Beloved”. In his mind, it’s his own private eulogy. He tries to reflect on his own behavior, but his own complexes get in the way. 

The final part of the suite would eventually be written in the 7/11 bathroom as his “final words” to his disciples and those who hated him alike. He decides to run away from home, moving to The City. He steals Holiday from his stepfather Brad, a 1968 Mercury Monterey convertible that he drills a hand grenade piece to the head of. He vows to never fit into society’s “line” again. He will not keep this promise.

April 1st: (Holiday) Jesús picks up his diary again, as he approaches The City on Holiday. Not even he is sure how long it took to get there. He revisits the ideas of his original entry, writing an angry piece about the government after hearing a particularly egregious speech from a Californian politician on his car radio. Despite his rage, he is starting to regret running away from his old life. He tries to convince himself that it was the right move to escape suburbia.

April 2nd: (BVOBD) With The City in sight, Jesús crashes Holiday. However, he is only a couple of miles away, and resolves to walk the rest of the way. He writes as he goes, lamenting how he walks alone now as he always did. The City sleeps as he finally steps foot into the heart of the place he had always dreamed of. When he gets there, though, he realizes how alone he really is, and he doesn’t know what to do next, and he wishes for someone to find him.

April 11th: (Are We The Waiting) Easter Sunday. More than a week after his arrival, Jesús still hasn’t found his true home in The City, and is starting to hate it. The loneliness is eating him alive. He misses the reputation he had in Jingletown, and he misses how his disciples idolized him. He even starts to miss his family. He finally breaks down in an alley, his mental state shattering, as he realizes how wrong he was about his life back home; he was never the Jesus of Suburbia.

May 7: (St. Jimmy) Jesús doesn’t know what happened between Easter and the day St. Jimmy was born. But according to his diary, this is the day he truly lost his mind. And it was taken over by an alter ego: St. Jimmy. He resolves that if he cannot be the Jesus of Suburbia, then he’ll be the patron saint of denial, the suicidal prince of his own religion. He emerges from the alleyway a new man. Jimmy is better than he ever was in his mind: confident, anarchist, and the son of Rage rather than Love. He begins to collect new disciples, the Forty Thieves, named after the Arabian tale, and he becomes their King instead of their savior. His right-hand man is Tunny, who will go on to be more successful than he ever was, who was someone he never appreciated while he had him. Jesús always did drugs, but his addiction spirals out of control, paralleling the “drug” of St. Jimmy’s persona. He even publicly disowns his own parents, stating his father to be Edgar Allen Poe. His followers learn not to question his madness.

June 13th: (Give me Novacaine) Jesús rides the high of St. Jimmy for a while, but in his private moments he’s just as broken as he ever was. Even when it’s just him and his painkillers, Jimmy still pops into his head to taunt him, and he begs for the release from his personal hell. On this night, he overdoses in the alley he now calls home. However, he is found and saved by none other than Wisteriya.

July 4th: (She's a Rebel) After Wisteriya saves him from death, the two become inseparable, and Jesús falls madly in love with her. He absolutely idolizes her, seeing her as the unwavering spirit of rebellion, and the true patron saint of his movement. Her real name is Amanda, but she changed her name and appearance to be more “punk feminist”, in her own words. Wisteriya becomes his new Bible in the absence of his 7/11 bathroom, and she becomes his new Messiah figure, as she seems to fulfill the prophecies that had been written by him since he entered the city. Later, Jesús will refer to her as Whatsername.

(Extraordinary Girl) He doesn’t date the second entry, but it can be assumed it was written a bit later in their relationship. This is where the cracks in their relationship start to form, but Jesús still idolizes her as much as ever. Despite this, he begins to see how she is still human, and he writes about her crying. The troubles in their relationship are not well reported on in Jesús’s diary, so it's unclear what exactly she is crying about. However, Jesús writes about how it feels as if she never really wanted him, but dates him out of desperation for love. This entry appears to be a collaborative effort, as Wisteriya’s handwriting can be seen among Jesús’s. She refers to herself for the first time here as Whatsername.

August 18th: (Letterbomb) A letter is pasted into the diary, given to him by Wisteriya. In one final act of rage and desperation, she breaks off their relationship, telling him that nobody likes him, and hands him her final letter before leaving The City and him behind. Wisteriya tells him that his “movement” failed, and he will never be the revolutionary savior he wants to be so badly. She points out his hypocrisy, and how The City is crumbling around him to his total apathy. She tears down St Jimmy, calling him what he is: a figment of his true parents’ rage AND love, and merely a front for Jesús’s own self-centeredness. She tears down the Jesus of Suburbia, pointing out how much of a poser he is, and how he only ever loved the idea of her. Finally, she tears down Jesús himself, telling him that she’s leaving before he can destroy her too. She leaves him with a plea to stop over-analyzing and actually do something with his life. After she’s gone, Jesús realizes that she was right, and that he was the American Idiot all along. However, her message doesn’t totally reach him, and he chooses quiet apathy to The City burning down around him.

October 19th: (Homecoming) His final suite begins with a transcription of his final message to Wisteriya, now referred to as Whatsername. He reflects on the past few months, which he spent trying to change himself and reflect, to questionable results. He asks her to come back to him when he comes home.

After Whatsername leaves, Jesús decides to disband his “cult”, but St. Jimmy steps in and instead tells his disciples that none of their problems are their own fault, and they should blame their parents for everything. This is the final straw for Jesús, as he attempts to kill St. Jimmy in one final religious ritual: the suicide Jimmy craved so badly. He attempts to shoot himself in the head over the bay, and the bullet hits his head, but his life is saved by Tunny. He still retains a horrible injury, but survives. Despite not killing him, Jesús says that the ritual worked, and that even if he didn’t succeed in committing suicide, Jimmy was satisfied by the bullet in his head and was defeated.

With this, Jesús resigns himself to the life of the average American worker, taking an internship and spending his life dealing with paperwork at East 12th Street. (East Jesus Nowhere???) He grows up to live an outwardly normal life, casting away all his past affiliations, but he is filled with self-hatred and regret. He seems to also be developing severe anxiety. Most of all, he can’t seem to let go of Whatsername.

November 10: Jesús’s mental state reaches rock bottom yet again, after months of waiting for Whatsername to show up, or call him, or at least send him a letter, she hasn’t. One night, he stays up as long as he can, downing 10 cups of coffee so he isn’t asleep when she responds. He thinks about what she said to him before she left: Nobody likes you, everyone left you, they’re all out without you having fun.

He does get a message in the mail, but it’s not from Whatsername: it’s from Tunny, whom he attempted to contact along with Whatsername. He sends him a postcard from New York, where his band had made it big. He chastises Jesús, and brags about his new life, inadvertently telling him how much better he has it now, and how Jesús will never be that punk that wanted to change the world again. He ends the postcard with a request for him to stop contacting Tunny complaining about how his life ended up. He doesn’t say so, but he means to tell him that his situation is his own fault.

Finally, he resolves to stop complaining and to look towards the future, accepting that he’ll never have his old life and girlfriend back. He visits his old 7/11 bathroom, what he views as the source of his teenage madness, and paints over his graffiti, erasing the gospel of the Jesus of Suburbia. He sends one final letter to Whatsername, summarizing the Homecoming suite, and finally returns to Jingletown. He walks through the streets of his hometown, singing Whatsername’s words to himself, the only piece of his old life he will keep with him.

January 1st: (Whatsername) Many years later, Jesús encounters Whatsername in a dream. He reminisces on his time with her, and tries to forget her, the final part of his past he needs to put to rest.

thank you for reading! hope this made sense. no i did not proofread this before posting. feel free to ask questions ^^

[samkat10423]

Veronaville - sort of

Well, I just got back from a trip to New Orleans and was playing in Twinbrook, but then I saw something online about Veronaville, and figured "Why not?" Now, when I played the Sims 2, I mostly hung out in Pleasantview, with the occasional excursion into Strangetown. Never really did much with Veronaville, because to be truthful I didn't really care for the builds there. So, I am NOT a hardcore Veronaville player. Which is why, I plan on changing things. A lot.

Anyway, there are - to my knowledge - currently 2 versions of Veronaville for the Sims 3, and my personal favorite is the one done by danjaley. Mostly because she has a centralized downtown. She does warn you that hers is a "beta" version, created a long time ago, and that you may have issues.

So, I had planned to steal some lots from Monte Vista to use in this town, but they were all too big. But no matter. I just started editing the ones she had - mostly because I wanted to update the town to use later ep lots. But there wasn't a lot of space. So, what to do.

Today, I decided that since she had used an edited version of Riverview for her town, I'd just open Riverview and plunk her lots down in it - after I got the routing fixes from Mod the Sims. And that's what I did. It took me a week to come to that decision, but oh well.

This first lot is called Pentameter Parkway. In her town, it's on a much smaller lot, so I made a few tiny changes to her build. In my town, I placed it where the military rabbithole was - a 44x44 lot. (That lot I put out where that crazy Cottneye sim has his bunker). The front of the lot is basically the same as she built it.

But in the back of the lot, I placed a small, soccer field. I also widened the main building a tad and added some windows to this side. I think her original lot came to where that crosswalk is on the road.

In her description, she says that this is "a good place for sims to get groceries and mags," so on the one end, I made it into a comic book store. None of this stuff was available when she created her town. Plus, I use CC in my game. Lots of CC.

In the center of the build, I made a tiny grocery store. I thought about placing the rabbithole rug here, but she also created the Veronaville Market, where she placed the grocery RH. So, this store just has the general store register.

Then on the end, I got rid of the bathrooms - I put them into that separate building you see in the 1st picture - and instead, made this into a tiny Asian cafe. I got most of the foods from Sandy over on Around the Sims 3. And viola! One lot finished! Go, me!

Then I went into the island part of town.

This is the bistro lot she created. I did flip the build - mostly because I wanted it to face the street that runs past the city hall. And when I was reconfiguring it a bit, I decided to add that one parking space for the current owner - Antonio Monty. She called it Ristorante Montecci - named after the family who created it. But I figured they all died out and Antonio bought it. If you read his bio, he's having problems keeping it afloat. Sucks to be him.

I also placed a few more lots. But I'll show them to you later. I do want to thank danjaley for all her lovely builds And her commentary on the different lots. A lady after my own heart! She did an amazing job on all of this. I prefer her street and sidewalk surfaces and that she didn't clutter the town with a bunch of streetlights. I had replaced the lights with that one from Monte Vista, but when I switched worlds, I had to delete them. Oh well.

[auncyen]

I'm in the middle of reading a book with the apt title "Not the End of the World" by Hannah Ritchie and while I think the book is a bit too blithe about things sometimes, it does a really good job of helping reframe how to look at climate change (which is only one doomsday scenario, yes, but it's specifically mentioned in OP's comic and it's one a good number of people find relevant so I figure it's worth adding this tangent). Still in the middle of reading but some of the big takeaways so far:

the news is incentivized to highlight disasters instead of focusing on longterm trends. It can be easy to miss that things are actually improving when you're being bombarded with everything that's going wrong. (Realizing this...makes some U.S. schools' decision to focus more on short readings over longer selections/books to reflect how media's changed a bit worrying, honestly, but in terms of climate change, we've improved in a number of aspects, even if there's still a lot of work to be done.) This can be applicable to other issues too. Sometimes it helps to pull back and look at what the longterm trend has been.

in a way, humanity has not yet been "sustainable". This judgment is based on a definition of sustainability with two halves: 1) we're meeting the needs of the current generation, 2) without depriving the future of generations yet to come. And we tend to judge a lot by the 2nd half without acknowledging that we've come a long way on the 1st. And sometimes we've created problems for the 2nd part while trying to solve the 1st and yes, the new problems need to be solved, but I do find it more helpful to think less of "oh, humanity's ruined things by being selfish and greedy" and more "okay, some of the solutions we came up with in the past will not work long term, but they at least gave more breathing room so we can work on long-term solutions". (And yeah this still has a caveat--some environmental disasters have been just a matter of greed, or callousness for the people who'd have to live with the consequences. But there are a number of issues where it's "this solution sucks, but it's better than what we had before.")

(sorry if this isn't perfectly coherent, I had. some unpleasant and distracting events happen on the night I started drafting this and only came back to it days later.)

Tips for Defying the End of the World.

[falloutstasis]

Walking Disaster

WARNING: talks about metahuman testing, mentions of forgetting to eat, sad but turns to fluff at the end!!!

[Terminal Notes: Subject Voltage] [Within the Cadmus Base in New Mexico]

1st Entry

Elizabeth Hernández. Subject Voltage. Age: 18. She has been living her since she was a child. We'll send her to Apollo Company in their ship carrier. I remember them mentioning something about needing someone to help them take care of an alien problem that proposed a threat to the entire world. She should be ready to be deployed in a month.

2nd Entry - 7 months after the first entry

She exceled at training today, being able to bypass all of the obstacles with ease. Her strength is admirable, could be on pare with most metahumans with super strength but further testing is required. If she can hone her strength to the fullest, she could be on pare with Wonder Woman. If she doesn't, then it wouldn't matter. She's the one who will replace Batman to protect Gotham City, SHOULD he be compromised in any situation or event. That way we can keep an eye on the city.

We just hope she doesn't have another freak out like she did when Ace passed away.

3rd Entry - Years Later

I can't believe we retrieved Voltage back when we attacked the Watch Tower. She was really one of our greatest assets to Project Cadmus. Hopefully we can have her with the Ultimen under our watch. I have yet to test out the modified bio chip on her, but I'm hopeful for the results I'm going to get afterwards when we do.

Unfortunately for Cadmus, the Justice League were already hot on their tails on rescuing Elizabeth. Wonder Woman, Batman, Hawkgirl, and Green Arrow were going through all the rooms available to try to find her.

Green Arrow pressed two fingers on one side of his ear. "J'onn, are we almost there?"

"Almost. One more floor and it'll be the first room you see."

They all pressed on through the next flight of stairs and indeed it was the first room they saw.

It was the only room they saw.

Green Arrow was the first one to enter and when he did, the room that they all saw looked more like a lab than a room. Primarily to make sure she was stable for further testing as to the training rooms where a couple of floors down, which the team already saw.

There was a large pod in front of them. "She's in there!" J'onn didn't even need to tell them twice. Especially to Wonder Woman.

She pulled the metal door right out with the hinges with ease, letting the door land on the ground with a loud bang. There they found Elizabeth with various of injuries that were mostly bruises, but upon further inspection from Hawkgirl, it looked like there was a burn mark on the left side of her hip. It also looked like she just passed out.

As Batman carefully carried her out of the pod in his arms, Hawkgirl comms J'onn. "Punch it, J'onn. We got her."

"Right away."

A light begins to form around the heroes, and as it does, Elizabeth raises her head up ever so slightly to see her friends with her. She turns her head a little too see the familiar Bat Symbol. She let out a weak sigh and laid her head on his chest. If she wasn't so weak, she'll probably notice her body being pulled just a little closer to Batman.

[3:00 AM] [Watchtower] [Medical Bay]

And that's how she got back from Cadmus's clutches. Despite the attack the Ultimen did to the Watch Tower as well as attacking the other heroes, it still stood strong and was currently going through repairs.

When the rest of the Justice League heard about this, they were not happy. Especially, Superman. It was extremely hard for man like him to be angry. To Elizabeth, she always knew him as very compassionate and kind man, always wanting to help.

But the the actions that Cadmus's were taking towards the Justice League wasn't doing anyone any favors. They hurt his cousin and now his friend?

All of this was just 3 weeks ago.

Now Elizabeth feels so withdrawn, so heavy with guilt and anxiety, she doesn't even want to move from the medical room. She was mobile enough to go directly to the cafeteria of the Watch Tower, but she always goes back to the medical room to eat alone. When she left her plate, someone would always take it back when they visit.

Her friends that knew her in the Watch Tower were so confused and worried. It was a complete 180 to her usual demeanor. Kind, caring, always smiling. Willing to crack a couple of jokes. It was like Cadmus flipped a switch on her.

It's already the end of the 3rd week, 3:00 AM according to the clock, and Elizabeth still hasn't gotten to sleep. The TV on the corner of the room was on and it was set to a space show she happen to stumble upon. She lowered the volume a bit before she tried getting some sleep, because she was getting tired and having a headache.

Elizabeth is currently curled up on on side, the side of the TV and not on her injured burn mark, with the blanket covered her entire body.

She could hear the siding door open and close, followed by the footsteps, but Elizabeth made no effort to check who it was.

She could hear light noises, more movement here and there, then a chair moving. She assumed someone came to sit down next to her bed but why?

"Elizabeth."

Her heart nearly jumped out of her chest when she heard Bruce call her. Now she almost didn't want to reveal herself. She looked and felt like an absolute mess.

When she lifted the blanket just a tiny bit, she saw was a plate of eggs, bacon, sausage, and some water on the side.

"Bruce-"

"You haven't eaten at all today." He shoved the plate a little closer to her. "Eat."

Now there was a dilemma with her. She's so tired, but she's so hungry. A nice breakfast could solve the hunger solution. But again, she felt and looked like a mess. To fix that problem, she slowly sat up and still managed to wrap the blanket around her. It was over her body, but this time it wasn't on the front side of her body.

As quickly as she could, without using her superspeed, she grabbed the plate and turned away from Bruce. She sat crossed-legged, her back facing him.

Bruce had his own plate to eat, so that's what he did.

Elizabeth could feel the glances that he was giving her. Like if he was trying to pierce through her mind. Putting imaginary holes on the back of her head. And the tension between the two wasn't helping at all. It was a different type of quiet that she hated so-

"Hey."

She didn't even notice him moving closer to her to sit next to her or the soft tone in his voice when he called out to her again. It was strange.

She didn't respond to him at all, still letting him stare at her as the two ate next to each other. Somehow, it seemed that the tension was still there, but just a little less than before. She couldn't put her finger on it, but Bruce's company was just enough to make her feel a little less tense when she spoke.

"You know that they'll come and try to get me back."

"We'll be prepared this time." He said, like if he was so sure.

She let out a sigh. "How can you be so sure this time? Do you even know how important I am to them?"

"Yes. I've read the terminal. And..." He paused, for a bit. "You're important to us to."

She scoffed and scooted away from Bruce, leaving more space between them for the plate. "They probably think I'm some kind of spy for Cadmus."

Bruce could see Elizabeth, take a deep breath, tucking her legs closer to her chest with her arms. Her head was towards the headboard of the bed, where she didn't have to look at him in the eyes.

"That's not what they think."

"Well, they should. They should be so angry with me that they want me kicked out."

Bruce only moved just a smidge closer, no more. He asked another question, "Why didn't you tell us you used to be with Cadmus?"

"Because I just wanted to forget about it the minute I got out." Elizabeth answered without looking at him. "For once I wanted to do what I wanted to do. I didn't sign up there in my own free will you know."

He squinted his eyes at her, believing he wasn't going to like the answer from his next question. "You were chipped?"

"I remember they said it was a Biochip. But yeah. They put a chip in my brain when I was 5 years old. That way, they didn't have to put in the effort of controlling me through the helmet when I was older. They could just give me an order and I go through with it without question. They make me go through intense training and gave me super strength through a couple of experiments they did on me."

This was...a tall order to take in. To put a chip in a child just so she could obey the government's orders was a new low even for Amanda Waller and Cadmus. Making her into a Metahuman Super Soldier for the government.

"Did you ever get the chip out of your brain?"

She nodded once. "Before I went to Gotham, I had a group that removed it for me. They're called the NOSC and they had a machine that made surgery on my brain to pull it out."

She lifted her head without looking at Bruce, pointing the direct spot on the right side of her head on top. "Right there."

Silence fell between the two again.

Bruce lifted the plate that was between them and set it down on the table behind them. Then he sat back down on the bed, just a little closer to Elizabeth.

"I understand."

"About what?"

"Being cheated out of your childhood."

And for the first time in a while, during this conversation, she slowly turned to look at Bruce. Nothing but concern in her eyes as he continued. What Bruce was about to do was tell sensitive information about himself.

His vulnerability wasn't something he showed all the time. Maybe to the core members of the Justice League. But he did know Elizabeth. More so than the rest of the League, since the two meet before Batman's inclusion to the Justice League in Gotham at the GCPD.

"When I was a boy, my parents were shot outside of an ally by a thug."

"God, Bruce." She stared at her feet as she closed the gap between, now sitting elbow to elbow with him. "I-I'm so sorry..."

She meet with his eyes again and it almost caught her off guard to see them so reassuring, so hopeful, despite what he went through.

"Is...that why you became Batman?" Elizabeth asked, almost whispering.

"Yes. To fight crime and help people. Just like what you are doing now."

He could still see that she was still unsure of herself. So he was ever so hesitant, but so gentle, put his arm around her back to hold.

"I'll talk with them and tell them everything. You need to worry about recovering. I know you're still hurt."

Her shoulders tensed and shock a bit as if she was about to cry. The water works was almost this close to releasing but she held them on just a little longer.

She had people in the Justice League shown concern for her, but never as much as Bruce has. She leaned her head against his shoulder.

"Thank you, Bruce..."

[10:00 AM] [Watchtower] [Control Deck]

"So nothing happened?"

"Nothing."

The Flash, Wally West, carefully eyed his friend J'onn J'onzz, who simply gave him a blank stare.

"Well, if you say so, J'onn." Wally shrugged. He wasn't going to push it considering the two individuals in the medical room are sleeping right now.

"They had a long day, Wally." J'onn stated. "It's best we let them rest."

"Right, right."

J'onn pressed several buttons on the control panel, letting Wally to step into the teleportation deck.

"Are you sure you don't want anything from the carnival?"

J'onn turned to his friend and smiled. "No, thank you."

Wally returned the smile. "Alright, suit yourself."

With that J'onn had Wally teleported out of the Watchtower and into his destination: Central City, where they were currently hosting a big carnival there.

[Watchtower] [Medical Bay]

Laying there in Bruce's arms was Elizabeth, who snuggled there on his body, her head on his chest. His arms prevented her from falling off the bed, should she accidently did so.

His cape was detached from his shoulders and draped over her as a blanket. The only sounds that came out of the room was the low volume of the TV and Bruce's light breathing as he slept.

[dfroza]

A link to my personal reading of the Scriptures

for the 24th of August 2024 with a paired chapter from each Testament (the First & the New Covenant) of the Bible

[The Letter of 1st John, Chapter 1 • The Book of Deuteronomy, Chapter 22]

along with Today’s reading from the ancient books of Proverbs and Psalms with Proverbs 24 and Psalm 24 coinciding with the day of the month, accompanied by Psalm 66 for the 66th day of Astronomical Summer, and Psalm 87 for day 237 of the year (with the consummate book of 150 Psalms in its 2nd revolution this year)

A post by John Parsons:

"God is present in the moment of choice, not in order to watch but in order to be chosen. Therefore, each person must choose. Terrible is the battle, in a person's innermost being, between God and the world. The crowning risk involved lies in the possession of choice." - Soren Kierkegaard

====

There is the great danger of squandering and dissipating our lives... Be grateful, then, for afflictions that bring us pause and move us inward. Examine yourself; consider what really moves you. Be careful not to deceive yourself by “reasoning around the truth” (i.e., παρα + λογίζομαι), as James the Righteous puts it (James 1:22). Many people fool themselves by assuming they know or understand what is good, but they confine this ideal to a matter of opinion rather than experiencing it as a matter of the will (or they confuse their opinion of the ideal with what is real).

There is something worse than death that should concern all people, however, and that is discovering that, upon your death, you had missed what is most important, that you sold your soul for vanities, and that you never learned the true reason for your existence...

Some of the ancient Greek philosophers assumed that moral evil was the result of ignorance, and that simply knowing the good would lead to doing the good. For example Socrates states (in the Protagoras) that no one knowingly does the wrong thing, and therefore all evil is the result of ignorance. He argued this way because he assumed that doing wrong harms the soul, and since no one willingly acts against his own interests, wrongdoing must be result of ignorance. This optimistic view implies that the answer to the problem of moral evil is “education,” or leading people out of the dark cave of their lower nature to experience the light of reason. If we just really understood why doing this or that sinful thing hurts us, we would change our ways and repent, or so the theory goes... Alas, human experience proves that such “head knowledge” often does not change the way we choose, and we all know people who have habits they realize are harmful but continue to indulge in them anyway.

There may be some truth to the idea that evil is a matter of ignorance however, since ignoring what is good, being indifferent, apathetic, and cynical is a defect of character (ἀκρασία), and learning to be honest, upright, courageous, unselfish, and so on, requires personal struggle to make the “ought” of moral reality an expression of the “is” of inner life. What is often most shocking about moral evil is that it expresses apathy or indifference toward the objections of conscience. Moral evil is essentially heartless and devoid of empathy, a state of cold-heartedness and callousness for the feelings and dignity of others. According to the Jewish philosopher Hannah Arendt, the lack of moral thought and reflection creates what she called the "banality of evil," that is, the unthinking acceptance of evil so that it is no longer regarded as outrageous or strange. People deaden their conscience by refusing to honestly engage questions such as: “What is goodness?” “Is evil real?” “Do we have an obligation to observe moral truth?” “What is the good life?” “How should we live?” “Do our actions really matter?” “Will God judge my life?” and so on. On the other hand, our culture has been so shocked by the ongoing practice of lawlessness and wickedness that people have lost their sense of shame. We are no longer shocked and outraged when we hear of the latest crimes or abuses of power in our postmodern world.... We must be careful, however, not to become evil by despising what is evil. For instance, we may feel so outraged and threatened by the evil actions of others that we deny their humanity, thereby becoming the very thing we hate.

“The heart is deceitful above all things and desperately sick; who can understand it?” (Jer. 17:9). “Oh there is nothing as deceitful and as cunning as a human heart, resourceful in seeking escapes and finding excuses; and there surely is nothing as difficult and as rare as genuine honesty before God.” (Kierkegaard: Discourses). Therefore we pray: “Heal me, O LORD, and I shall be healed; save me, and I shall be saved. Be not a terror to me; you are my refuge in the day of evil” (Jer. 17:14, 17).

[ Hebrew for Christians ]

========

Jeremiah 17:4 reading:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/jer17-14-jjp.mp3

Hebrew page:

https://hebrew4christians.com/Blessings/Blessing_Cards/jer17-14-lesson.pdf

8.23.24 • Facebook

from Today’s email by Israel365

Today’s message (Days of Praise) from the Institute for Creation Research

[surefireshore]

dove i am reblogging bc i dont think this could fit in a comment. Short answer: yes.

Long answer: I live alone, and my dog is a very sleepy old boi, so if I'm not making noise there is simply no noise. So i started saying my thoughts out loud. It's usually small stuff like "oh shit" or "where did i put my phone" etc., but as i continue to live alone it happens more often with different things.

Only very recently did i learn that something i meant to be an inside thought had broken containment into being a public thought. I am now going to share an unflattering story about myself.

I learned that [redacted] had gotten a puppy from a breeder, and i was asking them about it. Bc like!! Adopt dont shop, ya know? I was trying to understand why they went with shop, but also trying not to shame them about decisions they are excited about and cant change. The relevant bit went something like this, except actual dog names were used:

[Redacted]: Yeah we actually got dog 2 from the same person as dog 1.

Me: so theyre both from a breeder?

[Redacted]: yeah but she- the person we got them from- is responsible about it. Like she doesnt do it very often and stuff like that.

me: how far apart are [your two puppies] in age?

[Redacted]: about six months

My thought: sounds like she does it pretty often then.

After this, the conversation pittered out and moved on and it wasnt until like the NEXT DAY when someone was like "i cant believe the sass/audacity/comeback you had about [redacted's dogs]" and i had to be like "???? What are you talking about i didnt say anything?" And THAT was when i learned that i had in fact said something and also been rude.

So i think there's a number of factors that can lead someone to say something they dont know they're saying, all of which make a perfect storm into the social nightmare that is me:

Spending lots of time alone, which switches your instinctive/default mindset from "i must be considerate of other people's peace by being quiet" to "noise i make does not matter bc there is only me to hear it". Not that I cant be in the first mode, just that i am by default in the second one.

Poor impulse control. My ADHD-ass already has a brain-to-mouth filter delay of -0.5 seconds, which means im often only thinking about what im gonna say when im already saying it. I recognize that this is a Problem, but it is currently true and thus relevant to the point im making.

Feeling strongly about something but not wanting to share it. When the poor impulse control is in place and you really want to say something, it's instinctive to say it. Almost automatic. If you have no reason not to share something, you could/might just say it and it would be fine. It's only when there's incentive to hide what you're thinking that this breakdown might occur. The brain is thinking "oh we wont say this" while the mouth is already saying it.

A naturally loud voice. I think there is a world where this scenario happened and I muttered the sentence under my breath and no one heard me. But my hearing isn't very good so I'm a bit loud (also bc of the 1st point), so i said it full volume for everyone to hear.

All this to say that yes, I think there is a certain type of character who can say things without knowing it or meaning to, but I don't think that is every character. Someone who is naturally very quiet and/or spends a lot of time around other people might not. Someone who is already passionate and quick to speak whatever is on their mind might. Sam Gamgee might not, Pippin might. Lan Xichen might not, Wei Wuxian might. I think characters like Jean Valjean or Enjolras have too much self-control, but Grantaire or Gavroche might.

has anyone ever, in real life, not realized they were speaking out loud?

it's such a common trope in fic to write out a character's thoughts and then reveal in the next paragraph "oops, I guess I said that out loud." like they didn't realize words came out of their mouth until somebody else responded to them.

i have had the opposite happen, where i thought something very clearly and didn't realize i'd failed to share the thought aloud, but never in my life have i been having a normal awake conversation and not noticed that words came out of my mouth.

does this actually happen to anyone???