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angelz-dust · 4 years ago

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heatwave (jason todd x gender neutral!reader)

summary: extreme heat leads to a little accident with your popsicle and jason finds a way to rectify the problem.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni) - smut, unprotected sex (no condom, no pulling out - pls wrap it up y’all), shower sex, mild food play (popsicle), mild choking.

minors/ageless blogs who interact will be blocked - read rules before interacting

the sun shone through the window of your bedroom, the rays of light dancing against your sweaty skin as the wind from your fan made the blinds shake. you laid out on your bed, which had been stripped of its comforter, in only your underwear. you were about ready to peel those off of yourself, too. you weakly grabbed at your phone, checking the weather. 77 degrees.

77 degrees, your ass. it felt like 90.

as much as you enjoyed reaping the consequences of a depleting ozone layer, you felt like it was time to do something to control the temperature in your apartment. you weren't sure how much longer you'd be able to handle breathing in air that felt thick enough to chew. slowly, you sat up, having to peel your sheet off of your sweaty back. you were going to have to do the laundry at some point because going back to sleep in drenched sheets was just as disgusting as it sounded. that was a problem for 3pm you, though. 11am you needed water. desperately.

waddling your way to the kitchen, you opened the refrigerator door and you let out a loud moan of satisfaction. the bright white lights invited you inside its cold confines and you could've swore you saw a dead relative or two beckoning you in. you didn't want to leave the door open for too long, so you quickly grabbed the last water bottle and shut it. you wasted no time swallowing down the cold liquid, ignoring how it made your teeth hurt and froze your throat. you didn't even care that some of it had spilled down the front of your body, down your chest and to the band of your underwear. you welcomed the cold droplets onto your burning hot skin.

“fuuuuuuck,” you breathed out, your body going limp as it pressed itself against the metal refrigerator door. you could feel your perspiration creating a suction between it and your skin. it was fine, though. you had no intention of moving anyway.

had it not been for your brain taking a few minutes to power itself off, you would've heard the familiar jingle of keys unlocking the front door and you would've turned to see jason coming in with the desserts you requested.

“what the hell are you doing?” you heard him say and you slightly turned towards him, a dazed look on your face. he was already stripping out of his clothes before he even asked.

“dying,” you responded, opening the freezer for him as he threw in some ice cream and multiple boxes of popsicles.

jason put his hand on your clammy shoulder, slowly ripping you off of the fridge. he turned you towards him, holding some contraption in his hand, which appeared to be a cross between a spray bottle and a fan. without saying anything, he turned it on and began spraying you down like a misbehaving cat, only you didn't flinch. no, you relished in the feeling of the mist on your face.

“here. i got one for myself, too,” he said, handing you the fan. you smiled happily as you started spraying and fanning yourself all over.

“i hope whoever invented this is getting bomb ass head right now,” you breathed out, starting to feel some relief.

“what about the guy who bought it for you? what does he get?” jason asked, starting his fan up and spraying his chest, it now glistening with both sweat and tap water.

“absolutely nothing until the temperature drops,” you smiled at him. “what flavors did you get?”

jason’s lips puckered slightly as he leaned back against the kitchen counter. “strawberry, pineapple, and this caribbean mix with a bunch of flavors in it. you might wanna wait on eating them, though. they’ll probably melt fast.”

“it's a risk i'm willing to take,” you said, going and grabbing a popsicle for yourself. you unwrapped it and hummed happily at the flavor against your tongue. the brand jason bought was a little more expensive but it was definitely worth it. the real fruit juices and chunks were much more satisfying to taste than the artificial flavoring of the other brands.

“is it good?” jason asked, a small smile on his lips. despite being uncomfortably hot, seeing you happy made it bearable. the fact that he was able to provide you with the things you needed, even if it was something as simple as your favorite popsicle, made him feel good.

“mhm,” you nodded, some of the juices starting to trickle down your chin and onto your chest. you looked down and frowned a little. you started spraying your chest, trying to get the stickiness to go away.

jason watched you desperately try to lick up the juices that were now sliding down the stick and getting on your hands. it just wouldn't stop and it was making a huge mess, just as he had warned you it would.

“sweetheart, there's more popsicle on your chest than there is in your mouth,” he commented condescendingly and you glared at him.

“maybe that's how i like eating it, jason,” you said, his name coming out of your mouth like venom.

“you know what? i like eating it that way, too,” he nodded in agreement, stepping towards you and dipping his head down to lick at your collarbone and move down the valley of your chest.

your breath hitched at the unexpected contact and the added body heat to your personal bubble. jason had come back up, giving you a soft kiss and licking the remnants of your most recent bite off of your lips. as badly as you wanted to melt into the kiss, you pulled away. you grabbed your fan and started spraying him in the face.

“down, boy,” you scolded him playfully, little giggles coming from him as he flinched his punishment. “i'm trying to eat.”

“so am i,” he smirked, taking the popsicle from you and taking a bite out of it. he looked around the room, whistling as he not so subtly let the popsicle fall against your chest and dragging it down some, watching as it dripped down your abdomen. you gasped out as the contrasting temperatures, your back hitting the fridge.

“oh wow. i'm so sorry,” his fake apology rang against your ears. he took the dessert off of your skin, handing it back to you. “i'll get that for you.”

his lips and tongue fell upon your skin again, dragging over the stains. he found himself at your nipples, despite not getting anything on them. he swirled his tongue around the quickly hardening buds, managing to get a pleasant sound from you. he got on his knees, collecting the sweetness that was threatening to make it way to your underwear. he eagerly lapped it all up before it got to that point, firmly holding your hips against the door to prevent you from moving away.

“jason, it's too hot,” you sighed as he planted kisses up your naval, looking up at you with playful eyes.

“i know. this is really sexy, isn't it?” he spoke against your body, which got himself sprayed again by you. this time, he saw it as encouragement instead of a punishment. how thoughtful of you to help keep him cool while he focused on making you feel good.

you kept spraying him until he eventually let up, laughing again as he got off of his knees. “fine, fine. if you won't indulge me in my sexy popsicle fantasy, can we at least go take a shower?”

“only to get the juice off. no other reason,” you said coyly and he smirked at you, giving you a firm nod.

“of course. what other reason would there be?” he asked as the two of you headed to the bathroom, touching at each other and giggling your entire way there, taking what little clothes you both had off of each other. by the time the water started running, the little act had dropped and you were all over each other. it was freezing, which put your bodies into a slight shock as you panted heavily in between feverish kisses.

jason’s favorite thing to do was hoist you up, with your legs wrapped around his waist. he liked showing you how strong he was and feeling your body flush against his own. he made sure to position you high enough against the tile wall so you wouldn't have water violently hitting your face, but close enough to where you could still feel it everywhere else. he never allowed himself to be blinded by lust at the expense of your comfort.

his hips rolled into yours and his face found its way back to your chest, peppering it with kisses. you carded your fingers through his wet hair, tugging at it just how he liked. even though you were doing a very physically taxing activity, this was the coolest you had felt all day. you wasted no time giving jason’s plump lips the kisses they had deserved earlier, your boyfriend more than happy to reciprocate. as much as you didn't want to part from him again, he pulled away and began suckling at your neck. normally you would object to being marked in such a visible location but you gave him a pass this one time. after all, he was the guy who bought you the spray fan.

your feet touched the ground again and he turned you around, pressing you against the wall and grinding softly into your backside. it didn't take him long to pull your leg up and slowly insert himself inside of you. you started seeing stars and that's when your legs became like jelly, causing you to lose your balance. jason quickly reacted, your hearts pounding as you tried to stay vertical.

“are you alright?” he asked, his nose rubbing the shell of your ear.

“yeah, i just got dizzy,” you explained, grabbing his hand with an embarrassed smile. “i'm okay.”

“so clumsy,” he grinned, kissing your temple as his slow thrusting began. his hand trailed down your side and landed on your ass, using it as leverage.

you moaned his name as he started going deeper and slower. he was teasing you now, which was to be expected. even on the hottest of days, in one of the least comfortable locations, he didn't pass up the opportunity. jason treating this like any other love making session and not just a quickie turned you on even more. he never let you question his dedication to making you unravel beneath him.

“jason, please. stop teasing me,” you begged him, knowing that was the only way he would stop. closed mouths don't get fed, as he would say.

“only because you asked so nicely,” he responded smugly, picking up the pace now. the sounds of slapping skin and breathy moans were amplified by the acoustics of the room. you began feeling a slight ache; a result of jason’s girth and length inside of you. a normal person would’ve asked for a break, but not you. it fueled you to continued, fucking back against him and squeezing around the very thing that was causing you mild pain.

“it feels good, doesn’t it?” he asked you and you didn't respond. you hated how he always knew exactly what you were doing. “tell me it does, sweetheart. i wanna hear you say it.”

you ignored him again, moving against him a little faster now. his hands quickly went to your hips, holding you still. “answer me,” he whispered in your ear and you whimpered in defeat.

“it feels good,” you mumbled, trying to move again, but to no avail.

“sorry, i didn’t catch that.”

“it feels good, jason.”

“i'm glad. i want you to feel good,” he smiled, letting you go. you continued to try and reach your high, doing most of the work now while jason watched. his hands caressed your body, encouraging you to continue.

“does it feel good for you?” you asked him and he nodded.

“it always does, sweetheart. i feel amazing whenever i’m with you,” he told you, starting to meet you half way with his thrusts. “doesn't matter if i'm inside you or not.”

you felt your face heat up at his words. you hated how he had that effect on you. you felt yourself slip against the wet tile again and he caught you, pulling you back against him.

“would you stop doing that?” the two of you laughed together, taking a quick breather. “i need you to not die in the middle of me fucking you, okay?”

“okay, i'm sorry,” you giggled as jason helped you get back into position. “i'm sorry.”

“it's alright, don't worry,” he reassured you, slipping his hand up your front and around your throat. “is this okay?”

you nodded, feeling more secure in this modified position. despite your little interruption, you still felt as needy as ever. his grip on you was so gentle that you could almost be convinced you’d slip again, but jason knew your body like the back of his hand. he knew what he needed to do to keep you safe and not hurt you in the process.

“let’s finish up,” jason’s tone was comforting and you hummed in agreement, picking up right where the two of you left off. it didn't take long, either. you could feel the pressure building up inside of you, waiting to wash over you. once you felt his tip pressing against that sweet spot he was so good at exploiting, you knew there was no going back now.

you both started getting sloppy, jason’s thrusts being less methodical and your movements no longer matching with his. jason’s broken gasps and moans send you over the edge, sending you spiraling in euphoria. his grip on your throat tightened very slightly as he filled you up, his face resting in the crook of your neck. you let out a sigh as he slipped out of you, feeling his cheek pressing against you, silently urging you to turn around. you complied, your noses grazing each other before your lips met again with little kisses.

“we can take a real shower now,” he smiled against your lips, kissing you again. “no more sexy fantasies. i promise.”

“no more sexy fantasies during a heatwave,” you corrected him, grabbing your wash cloth and wiping away some of the sweat forming at his hairline. “any other time, they will be greatly accepted and expected.”

“good to know.”

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd smut #red hood smut #dc x reader

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years ago

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Spite in Misery - ao3

(rather silly AU of Delight in Misery, only even more petty and passive aggressive, and also slightly more JC/LWJ)

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“What do you want?” Jiang Cheng asked.

“Sanctuary,” Lan Wangji said, prim and proper as he always was, the perfect untouchable iceberg as always, except maybe for the small child he was holding. “For me and my son.”

“Wait, you fuck?”

Wait, that wasn’t the right question.

“Why do you need sanctuary here?” Jiang Cheng asked, utterly bemused. “There isn’t a single place in the cultivation world you wouldn’t be welcomed –”

Except here.

“– and anyway, your brother, his sworn brothers, and your sect would demolish anyone who even thought about hurting you. Who in the world could you need sanctuary from?”

“My brother,” Lan Wangji said. “His sworn brothers, and my sect.”

Jiang Cheng stared at him.

Lan Wangji stared right back at him.

And then he collapsed.

“No,” Jiang Cheng said to the unconscious or possibly dead body currently lying across the threshold of the Lotus Pier and the small feverish-looking child in barely better state splayed out beside it. “I refuse to take responsibility for this!”

“You will not say anything about the room I have chosen to house you in,” Jiang Cheng said. “You will not complain about the food, the amenities, or make any requests whatsoever. Do you hear me?”

“Mm,” Lan Wangji said.

Jiang Cheng ought to have expected as much.

“And don’t think this means I’m going to like you or anything,” Jiang Cheng added self-righteously.

“I despise you with every drop of blood in my body,” Lan Wangji said.

“…so noted,” Jiang Cheng said.

After a moment, he added, “I don’t care!” and stormed out.

After yet another moment, he came right back into the room where he’d put Lan Wangji – it was just a convenient room, not specifically Wei Wuxian’s room, and if putting Lan Wangji in there meant he could delay having to clean out all the personal possessions left in there and actually repurpose it, that was his business and no one else’s – and said, “Why do you hate me, exactly?”

“Do you care?” Lan Wangji asked. He was examining the small cot Jiang Cheng had set up to put the still-unconscious and therefore nameless child on.

“Obviously,” Jiang Cheng said. “Or I wouldn’t have asked.”

“Mm,” Lan Wangji said.

Jiang Cheng waited a few moments, moments that grew longer and longer, and finally he realized – “You’re not planning on telling me?”

“I despise you,” Lan Wangji reminded him.

“Oh, you – you…!” Jiang Cheng ground his teeth together. “I’m the one giving you sanctuary, remember?”

“I came to you because you were the only one powerful enough to accomplish the task and spiteful enough to do it. I did not come here to owe you any favors.”

“Well, you’re going to owe me one anyway,” Jiang Cheng said, scowling at him. “You – you – ugh. Forget it!”

He stormed back out.

And then he realized he hadn’t actually brought the medicine that he’d intended to bring to Lan Wangji, so he had to go in and drop it off, but then he was finally able to storm away properly.

“I was under the belief we had agreed it would be best for us to see each other as little as possible,” Lan Wangji said, his voice even icier than usual – which was saying something.

“That’s right,” Jiang Cheng agreed, eying him warily. “I’m only here personally to drop off your medicine because it means fewer people know that you’re here.”

He’d thought that he would need to bring in a doctor for Lan Wangji’s injuries, but it turned out to be whip marks from a discipline whip and Jiang Cheng – well. Jiang Cheng knew everything there was to know about injuries like that.

Sure, he’d had to take A-Yuan to a doctor, he didn’t know shit about pediatric illnesses, but that was fine, it didn’t give the whole game away. Jiang Cheng was able to pass him off as some random sad orphan he’d taken pity on, which wasn’t far from what he suspected to be the truth.

“In that case,” and Lan Wangji’s voice was even colder, which how, “why do you live next door?”

“This was the only room available,” Jiang Cheng lied.

Lan Wangji glared death at him.

“Beggars can’t be choosers. I’m giving you sanctuary, aren’t I?” Jiang Cheng scowled. “Anyway, I told you that you weren’t allowed to complain about the room.”

Lan Wangji did not appear impressed.

“How’d you know I was next door, anyway?”

“You have nightmares.”

…right.

“I’ll invest in better soundproofing, then,” Jiang Cheng said haughtily. He wasn’t ashamed of having nightmares. After the life he’d lived, it was only to be expected.

“I don’t want to be around you at all,” Lan Wangji clarified.

“Too bad.”

“I don’t want you spending time with A-Yuan.”

Oh, so that was the real issue here. Well, in that case, the answer was still – “Too bad.”

“He’s my son.”

“He’s in my house,” Jiang Cheng said. “In my sect, in my lands, in my part of the cultivation world, which is the only reason you came here rather than literally anywhere else, remember? Because I’m a territorial bastard with a paranoid streak that won’t let anyone come look for you in here without hovering over their backs like a shadow, making it impossible for them to actually find you – sound familiar?”

Lan Wangji’s face twitched. “I did not say that.”

“You thought it,” Jiang Cheng said, and Lan Wangji’s silence proved he was right. “Anyway, I don’t care if you don’t like me spending time with A-Yuan. He’s one of the only people who can make Jin Ling laugh.”

“He wants to be his big brother,” Lan Wangji said. He sounded like he had swallowed glass.

“Okay,” Jiang Cheng said, not understanding. “Good for him?”

Brothers didn’t have to be biological, he thought, and that old pain tore through his heart the way it always did when he thought about Wei Wuxian.

“Worthless,” Lan Wangji said, glaring at him, and Jiang Cheng almost agreed with that assessment of himself – thoughts of Wei Wuxian usually had that effect – except of course it was Lan Wangji saying it, so naturally he had to disagree.

It was oddly reaffirming, actually. He might beat himself up as being worthless, useless and pathetic, a broken shell of a man who couldn’t keep a single member of his family alive, who had nothing and lived for nothing and existed purely for the sake of his sect and Jin Ling –

But the second Lan Wangji said that he was worthless, Lan Wangji who was wrong about everything, Jiang Cheng was immediately convinced that he was the best thing that had ever been invented.

Wait, was this how Wei Wuxian used to feel all the time?

No wonder he was always tormenting Lan Wangji.

“I brought you some books on physical rehabilitation,” Jiang Cheng announced. “No, don’t thank me - the sooner you’re better, the sooner you can leave.”

“It will not be too soon,” Lan Wangji said.

Personally, Jiang Cheng didn’t think Lan Wangji was going to be leaving for at least another year, maybe a few more years, not with that many strikes of the discipline whip to heal and his disordered qi to straighten out, but it was nice for both of them to see a destination at the end of the road in which they didn’t have to see each other all the time. Either way, he agreed, so he wasn’t going to ruin the rare moment of complete harmony by being persnickety.

“You should knock before entering,” Lan Wangji added, prissy as always.

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. He probably should have, yes, but he always had the ‘it’s my house’ thing to fall back on. This was the Lotus Pier where the rules of the Lan sect didn’t apply, and as far as he was concerned, that was reason enough to ignore etiquette. Anyway, Lan Wangji was here alone and healing just the way he’d been doing the past few months, what exactly was he going to be doing that Jiang Cheng might walk in on –

“Oh,” Jiang Cheng said when Lan Wangji attempted, with dignity, to extract his hands from inside his clothing, which was unfortunately not something he could do subtly. “Were you trying to jerk off?”

Lan Wangji looked mutinous.

“…were you failing to jerk off?”

Lan Wangji now looked like he wanted to rip Jiang Cheng limb from limb, even though it ought to have been clear enough that Jiang Cheng would only think to ask the question because he’d had a similar issue for a while there. The time after his family had died had been brutal, and he couldn’t even use getting off as a shortcut to fall asleep because every time he tried he couldn’t keep it up; it’d been awful. He’d been terrified that he’d broken his own dick somehow, which led to worries that he wouldn’t be able to have kids in the future and thereby fail his parents and ancestors in a brand new and yet unexplored way, which led to even more panic and even less sleeping. It hadn’t been until someone (he suspected Nie Mingjue, bizarrely enough) shoved a medical treatise about trauma reactions under his door that he’d realized it was a fairly normal aftereffect and managed to calm down a little.

Nie Mingjue had also given him so much work to do that Jiang Cheng hadn’t had time to even think about that sort of thing until nearly half a year later, at which point everything was working again and he’d completely forgotten it was even an issue until halfway into the afterglow.

Good man, that Nie Mingjue.

“If it’s a symptom, you need to tell me these things,” Jiang Cheng said, taking far too much wretched enjoyment out of the whole thing. He’d give Lan Wangji the trauma book, of course – he still had it – but he had to get his wins in where he could against the perfect iceberg, cheap shots or no. “As your current attending doctor, I’m responsible for your care –”

“It is unwanted but necessary. It is simply something that I must endure,” Lan Wangji said grimly, and Jiang Cheng raised his eyebrows.

The book had covered that, too, although that hadn’t been his problem, personally.

“Oh, I see,” he said. “You keep getting hard, is that it? And then retraumatizing yourself when you try to jerk off, which means you can’t satisfy the need, which means you can’t solve the getting hard all the time problem, which in turn affects your cultivation and so your healing…yeah, I see the issue. You should probably get someone else to do it for you if you get really desperate.”

“I see no one but you,” Lan Wangji said through gritted teeth.

A problem, Jiang Cheng admitted.

Still mostly Lan Wangji’s problem, though.

“Well,” he said with the smarmiest smirk he could manage, “as your attending doctor –”

Lan Wanjgji threw a book at his head.

“What are you planning on doing once you’re better?” Jiang Cheng wondered.

“Why are you talking to me?” Lan Wangji replied.

“Oh come on,” Jiang Cheng said. “How can you say such a thing after taking advantage of me? I let you into my home –”

“You will not be able to rely upon that fact forever.”

“I will be able to rely on that fact for eternity,” Jiang Cheng disagreed. “I let you into my home, I hid you away from the world – which isn’t actually as easy as I make it look, just so you know! Your brother is practically scouring the earth –”

Lan Wangji looked like he’d bitten into something extremely sour.

“I’m sorry, did you think he was not going to do that? And recruit his sworn brothers to help him?” Jiang Cheng asked. “I thought the whole point of this was – well –”

“It was.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I do not enjoy hearing of it.”

“Listen, if you’re going to decide to torture someone by turning your back on them and disappearing without a word, you should at least have the guts to own it.”

“You speak from experience, I take it.”

“As a matter of fact, I do. Did you somehow forget everything that happened back then with Wei Wuxian?”

“…you were the one who turned your back on Wei Ying.”

Jiang Cheng laughed disbelievingly. “Oh, yeah, sure,” he jeered. “Because I was so well-known for my backbone when it came to Wei Wuxian. I definitely was the one to come up with the idea to throw him out of my sect and cut ties, yeah, definitely, that’s completely what happened. I mean, obviously, I always got my way when dealing with him, every time, that’s how it always was between us. He had nothing to do with it.”

Lan Wangji was glaring at him. “Not then,” he said, each word cutting like a sword. “The Nightless City.”

“You mean the time he arrogantly and completely without warning started a fight that got my sister killed and then murdered three thousand people, including some of the very few family members and friends I had left?”

Lan Wangji was silent.

“You do mean that time,” Jiang Cheng said, marveling. “Are you insane? Even if I wanted to, if I took his side then, I’d have had no claim later on to grab him as a prisoner before anyone else did. The Jin would have executed him for sure! And slowly!”

“The Burial Mounds –”

“He imploded in front of my face!” Jiang Cheng shouted. “I had to see – when he – he died! He was – he did – you don’t even know – no, you know what, I’m not talking about this. Not with you of all people; you hated him.”

Lan Wangji’s hands were fists. “I did not.”

“No? You did a good job of acting like you did,” Jiang Cheng sneered. “Always talking about how you wanted to drag him back to Gusu just because it would make you feel better –”

“Better than leaving him.”

“I did what he wanted! And yes, fine, maybe that was my mistake. Maybe I should’ve ignored what he wanted, maybe I should’ve dragged him back to the Lotus Pier and locked him in a little room for the rest of his life the way everyone knows your dad did to your mom – ”

Lan Wangji flinched.

In fairness, Jiang Cheng was exaggerating about everyone knowing. He only knew about it because he’d heard his mother spit it out at his father during one of their nastier fights, and he was pretty sure she wasn’t supposed to have known about it, either.

“– but stupid me, I thought he’d be happier being free and alone than stuck with someone he clearly didn’t want to be around him anymore! But what do I know? Maybe I should ask you, you selfish bastard. You’re the one in his position this time, you’re the one who’s doing the turning away – I bet you don’t even know what it’s like to be the one that’s not wanted.”

Lan Wangji stared down at his hands as Jiang Cheng jumped up to his feet, Zidian crackling to life in his hand despite himself, persisting even though he tried to suppress it.

“I’m going to go hunt down some demonic cultivators,” he said, trying in vain to keep his temper even a little bit and knowing it was a lost cause. “And then I’m going to bring them back here and make them scream somewhere you can hear it. You can chew on that with some glass for all I care!”

“You handled that last one well,” Lan Wangji said. It sounded like someone was pulling teeth from his head.

“You’re sick,” Jiang Cheng announced. “I will go get some fever medicine at once. Are you experiencing any other symptoms in addition to hallucinations? Or should I be checking for signs of possession instead?”

Lan Wangji was back to glaring at him.

“I don’t know what drove that sudden spurt of niceness and I don’t care to know,” Jiang Cheng informed him. “I don’t need your approval.”

Lan Wangji ignored him. That was more customary.

Also unfortunate, because Jiang Cheng managed to get less than half a shichen of work done before coming back into Lan Wangji’s room (not Wei Wuxian’s room) and saying, “Okay, what exactly did I do?”

Lan Wangji looked at him sidelong.

“Seriously,” Jiang Cheng said. “What did I do that was so impressive that even you approved of it?”

“The demonic cultivator. The last one.”

Jiang Cheng frowned, thinking about it. “The – stupid one, you mean?”

Lan Wangji stared at him, and then looked at the ceiling, long-suffering. “The one from Yunping.”

“The stupid one,” Jiang Cheng confirmed, and then he was ranting again because he couldn’t seem to stop ranting about it. “I can’t believe the idiot got into demonic cultivation as a way to make money! That’s just – it’s just – if I ever figure out who paid him, I’m going to rearrange their guts with my sword. Lousy rotten opportunistic…!” He coughed, realizing he’d gotten started again when he’d promised Jiang Meimei that he’d stop. It apparently got old after the sixth repetition. “Anyway, what’s so notable about that?”

“You accepted him as an outer disciple of your own sect.”

“Well, yeah. What else was I going to do with him? He’s clearly got some talent for cultivation if he figured out demonic cultivation without dying. It’d be a waste to send him back to be a fisherman or a dockworker or something.”

“You didn’t kill him.”

“I’m not going to kill someone who got into demonic cultivation as a way to raise funds to get medicine for his sick mother,” Jiang Cheng said, rolling his eyes. “The idiot’s on tomb-sweeping duty for the next year to make up for having manipulated corpses the way he did, that’s punishment enough. It’s not at all comparable to the usual sort of amateur demonic cultivator, the ones that summon corpses to torment former lovers or murder business partners or that sort of thing – those are the ones I use as an example to warn everyone else. What’s the big deal?”

Lan Wangji said nothing.

“Fine, keep your secrets. Can you watch Jin Ling today? I have a – uh – important meeting.”

“Another woman that you have no intention of actually marrying?”

“Shut up and mind your own business.”

“No, but seriously,” Jiang Cheng said. “What are you going to do once you’re better?”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” Lan Wangji said, his voice muffled on account of his face being firmly in his hands. “Go away.”

“Listen, we’re still neighbors, we still need to talk. There’s no point in being suddenly shy about it just because you’re still in the acceptance phase of grief in connection with the whole me helping you with getting off business –”

“Never speak of it.”

Jiang Cheng sniggered. He wouldn’t have pegged the Lan sect as having uncontrolled libidos, much less Lan Wangji, but apparently the situation had gotten truly dire. Anyway, really, getting mockery rights was totally worth an arm work-out and having to put up with Lan Wangji, the latter of which he had to do anyway.

“You really are taking advantage of me now, though! My poor virtue –”

Lan Wangji looked at him through his fingers. “You don’t have any virtue.”

“Really?” Jiang Cheng asked, suddenly curious. “I strike you as someone with a lot of experience –”

“I meant morally.”

“Oh. Hey!”

Lan Wangji rolled his eyes. “Pathetic.”

“Not as pathetic as someone who won’t answer a straight question,” Jiang Cheng said. “What’s your plan for after you’re healed? Are you going back to the Lan sect? Or start traveling as a rogue cultivator?”

“Why do you care?” Lan Wangji asked.

“I can care!”

“But you don’t. Not about my affairs.”

Jiang Cheng had to admit this was correct. “Fine,” he said. “I need a name.”

Lan Wangji frowned at him.

“For A-Yuan,” Jiang Cheng said. “It’s been a year. The kid’s as healthy as he’s ever going to be, and he’s old enough for me to shove him in with the rest of the younger generation now that we’re starting lessons back up – cultivation, swordsmanship, shooting, etiquette, all the usual. But I can’t register him in the class without a surname, and I need to know if that surname’s going to be Lan or if you plan on changing it to something else.”

Lan Wangji was frowning at him.

“I know, I know, you’re in hiding,” Jiang Cheng said. “It’s fine, it won’t give you away even if you do pick ‘Lan’. I can register him as a Yunmeng Lan instead of a Gusu Lan, the surname’s common enough that no one will suspect anything unless you make him start wearing a forehead ribbon, which I don’t think you lot do at this age yet anyway. But if you’re planning on continuing to hide from your family after you get better, you’re going to need to do something about all of that.”

Lan Wangji looked sour.

“Anyway, long story short, that’s it. Your plans, I need to know them.”

Lan Wangji looked even more sour.

“Well? What is it?”

“We will return to the Lan sect,” Lan Wangji said.

“Not that hard, was it,” Jiang Cheng said. “I knew you were just throwing a temper tantrum.”

Lan Wangji rolled his eyes.

After a moment, he said, “What do we do about Jin Ling?”

“What do you mean, ‘what do we do about Jin Ling’?” Jiang Cheng asked suspiciously. “I had to fight half of Lanling Jin for the right to raise him here, we’re not doing anything about Jin Ling – anyway, who’s ‘we’? He’s my nephew!”

“A-Yuan sees him as a little brother.”

This was true.

“They will not want to part.”

…also true.

“Moreover,” and here Lan Wangji looked especially sour, “I believe A-Yuan has taken you as something of a – second parent.”

“Well, that’s nice,” Jiang Cheng said. “He’s a cute kid. Anyway, don’t take it so personally. Kids just do that, they adopt any adult in the vicinity as their own. I mean, certainly Jin Ling thinks of you as…wait. Wait. Are we co-parenting?!”

“Mm. Took you long enough to notice.”

It had been a bad day, a bad week, and a bad month, and Jiang Cheng’s temper, never good, was on the verge of imploding, so naturally that was when he completely lost all self-control he might have had and marched over to Lan Wangji’s room to blurt out, “Why do you hate me?”

Lan Wangji’s hands stilled over his guqin.

“I know why I hate you, even putting aside the fact that you’re a jackass with the emotional capacity of a brick,” Jiang Cheng said. “But I really have no idea what I did to you to make you hate me.”

There were so many options, after all. He was a cruel, vicious, and bitter man – he was a terrible parent, unlikable as a friend, barely sufficient as a sect leader, and such a failure at connecting socially with anyone that he’d been blacklisted as a marriage prospect despite being handsome, young, rich, and powerful. There were so many reasons to hate him.

But he didn’t know which one was the one that made Lan Wangji look at him with disdain, even if he thought that perhaps there was slightly less of that these days than there had been before.

“I hate you because you abandoned Wei Ying when he needed you,” Lan Wangji said. “He was your brother, and you left him behind – more than that, you led the charge against him, resulting in his death.”

…that was a good reason.

Jiang Cheng wouldn’t mind being hated for that reason, actually. It was a nice change from all those people who congratulated him for having done the right thing: all those smug sect leaders that comforted him for having raised a white-eyed wolf in the family, the ones that said his actions showed that he had a good backbone and a righteous bearing, the ones that had the gall to send him gifts of congratulation on the anniversary of Wei Wuxian’s death to thank him for his contribution to the cultivation world when all he wanted was to be left alone to mourn…

“That’s fine,” he croaked. “Okay. Yes. That’s – fine.”

“Why do you hate me?” Lan Wangji asked in turn. “You said you knew.”

“Oh, that,” Jiang Cheng said. “Same reason.”

Lan Wangji stared.

Jiang Cheng shrugged. “I mean, I know you were always harsh on him when we were together at your uncle’s lectures, which was completely fair given how much he was always bothering you. But he really did try sincerely to help you when we were all the Wen sect’s camp, and in the cave with the Xuanwu – but after, in the war, when he showed up with his demonic cultivation, you suddenly turned on him even though he was just doing it to help. You kept telling him he had to stop, even though you knew he was doing so much for the war effort, and you wanted to take him back to Gusu to do who-knows-what to him…you even snatched him away during the battle of the Nightless City! I saw you. I was so afraid you were going to kill him, I completely lost my head. I looked for you everywhere – I really don’t know how he was lucky enough to get away from you that time.”

Lan Wangji stared at him.

“And then you didn’t even bother to show up to the siege of the Burial Mounds in person,” Jiang Cheng added, feeling bitter. “After I heard from the Lan sect that he escaped from you, I briefly thought that you’d changed your mind and let him go. I was counting on you to be at the Burial Mounds to support me in claiming him as a Jiang sect prisoner – I had Chifeng-zun signed on, if reluctantly, and with you leading the Lan I could’ve made a decent argument. But then you didn’t show, either you or your brother; instead you sent your uncle, and of course there wasn’t even any point in asking him, was there?”

“…I didn’t know,” Lan Wangji said. His voice sounded strangely hoarse. “I wasn’t informed. It was shortly after…”

He nodded at his own shoulder, meaning the disaster on his back. Jiang Cheng hadn’t asked how it happened – he really wanted to know, as in really, really, really wanted to know, but even he was aware that actually asking would be unbearably rude. Still, he was surprised by the timing of it. How had Lan Wangji managed to end up in the hands of his enemies then? Who had even been left to do it to him?

“Yeah, well,” Jiang Cheng said, shaking his head to try to kick away his curiosity the way he would something clinging to his foot. “You were still a bastard to him when he needed you, so I hate you.”

He frowned.

“Also, you hate me,” he said. “So I hated you back just for that. Though I guess, since your reason for hating me is valid, maybe I should stop hating you back for that?”

He considered it.

“No,” he decided. “You’re too annoying not to hate.”

“The same for you,” Lan Wangji said after an unusual hesitation.

Jiang Cheng nodded and, feeling oddly relieved at not having found a new basis for self-hatred, departs.

“So once you’ve reestablished yourself at the Cloud Recesses, we’ll exchange extended visits on a regular basis so the kids can see each other,” Jiang Cheng said, and Lan Wangji nodded. “A minimum of three weeks per season, whether in the Lotus Pier or Cloud Recesses, and preferably double that.”

“Agreed.”

“In the meantime, you’ll work on getting the trade agreement we hammered out through your brother and sect elders as recompense for the time you spent here.”

“Mm.”

“An agreement whose source you will be disclosing very carefully because the Venerated Triad will not hesitate to murder me if they figure out without adequate warning it was me that was housing you for all this time.”

Lan Wangji said nothing and promised nothing.

Bastard.

Still, after nearly three years, Jiang Cheng was pretty used to it.

“Okay,” Jiang Cheng said. “Is there anything I’ve left out?”

“Joint night-hunts.”

“Right, right, we’ll make a point of regularly going on joint night-hunts – wait, why are we doing that? You don’t need me to watch your back now that you’re fully healed.”

Lan Wangji’s gaze wandered.

“Oh,” Jiang Cheng said. “So we can keep having hate-sex on the regular?”

“…mm.”

“Why didn’t you just say so? It’s not like I’m doing anything else – or anyone else. Blacklisted, remember?”

“Unsurprising,” Lan Wangji said, like the bastard he was.

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, whatever. The set-up works, doesn’t it? I’m blacklisted, you’re apparently eternally pining for Wei Wuxian of all people – your taste is the worst – so who’s going to call us out on it? Go on, get out of here already. I’ll see you next month.”

“Well,” Jiang Cheng said, looking between the newly resurrected Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, abruptly made of an issue he had hitherto not considered based on Lan Wangji’s screaming body language. “This is. Uh. Awkward?”

#mdzs #jiang cheng #lan wangji #my fic #my fics #spite in misery #delight in misery #sometimes you get a silly idea #and then you write it

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daimonclub · 2 years ago

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Parkour sport art

Parkour sport art Obstacles are found everywhere, and in overcoming them we nourish ourselves. David Belle The best part of falling is getting back up again. David Belle First, do it. Second, do it well. Third, do it well and fast — that means you're a professional. David Belle Train not to get something right, train so that you can never get it wrong David Belle Parkour was never invented by anyone, it's always been here. Sebastien Foucan Many people open their mind through different things like music and painting, as well as Parkour. How is not important. What is important is to open your mind because you gain some freedom through it. David Belle Parkour belongs to the ones who live it, not the ones who want to live thanks to it. David Belle Parkour teaches you to be sure of what you are able to do. David Belle When you’re training Parkour with passion, if you’re good, people will notice you. Don’t go around saying, ‘Hey look at this new move I got.’ No. We used to say, ‘If it’s good we’ll tell you.’ Do it for yourself first. David Belle

David Belle My thing from the beginning is to have it be useful, and be able to help others. It's about being efficient and getting there as fast as you can. If people want to do it more artistically or in a freestyle way, I have absolutely no problem with it - that's the way it's going to evolve. It's not my style, but if it's other people's , that's perfect. David Belle The way of the parkour is to continue, not to stay here. Sebastien Foucan One of the main points of the philosophy behind parkour is being able to help people... To teach them they way themselves, to gain confidence in themselves, building up from simple moves to more complex things, to teach them that they are worthwhile people. Chris Hayes If someone puts you in front of a 30m high wall, tells you to get over it, and then comes back two years later and you're still there, you've made no progress. You should find another wall. David Belle Understand that this art has been created by few soldiers in Vietnam to escape or reach: and this is the spirit I'd like parkour to keep. You have to make the difference between what is useful and what is not in emergency situations. Then you'll know what is parkour and what is not. So if you do acrobatics things on the street with no other goal than showing off, please don't say it's parkour. Acrobatics existed long time ago before parkour. David Belle Parkour does not have to be liked or disliked! Parkour is here and it will stay here forever! Because it was born from a pure heart and nourished from all the love that a son can give to his father! David Belle If you are in front of a wall that you cannot get past, would you just keep banging your head into the wall?... No, you would find a new wall. David Belle So if you do acrobatics things on the street with no other goal than showing off, please don't say it's parkour. Acrobatics existed long time ago before parkour. David Belle A little backflip (backflips), but it's not part of Parkour, but i like doing this since i did gym. David Belle A lot of people in their mind think ‘If there is a problem this is what I would do, this is how I would do it.’ But the truth is they don’t really know. Parkour teaches you to be sure of what you are able to do. David Belle

Oliver Thorpe Parkour is a physical discipline that involves moving through obstacles in an efficient and fluid manner, using only the human body. Basic parkour movements include running, jumping, climbing, vaulting, and rolling. Parkour can improve physical fitness, agility, balance, coordination, and mental focus. It can also be a fun and challenging way to explore the environment and build confidence. Parkour originated in France in the 1980s, specifically in the suburbs of Paris. David Belle is considered the founder of parkour. He developed the discipline along with his friends and family in the suburbs of Paris. He was inspired by his father, who was a firefighter and used his training to move efficiently in emergency situations. Belle and his friends also drew inspiration from military obstacle courses and martial arts. The word parkour derives from parcours du combattant (obstacle course), the classic obstacle course method of military training proposed by Georges Hébert. Raymond Belle used the term "les parcours" to encompass all of his training including climbing, jumping, running, balancing, and the other methods he undertook in his personal athletic advancement. David initially trained on his own, and after moving to Lisses, found other young men (including his cousins) who had similar desires, and they began to train together. The group eventually included David Belle, Sébastien Foucan, Châu Belle Dinh, Williams Belle, Yann Hnautra, Laurent Piemontesi, Guylain N'Guba Boyeke, Malik Diouf, and Charles Perrière. The group began calling themselves the Yamakasi, from the Lingala ya makási, meaning strong in one's person, or "strong man, strong spirit". The group drew inspiration from Asian culture and Asian martial arts, notably the acrobatics of Jackie Chan such as qinggong displays in his Hong Kong action films, and the training philosophy of Bruce Lee, considering the latter to be the "unofficial president" of their group.

Parkour sport activities The group also was influenced by the Japanese manga and anime series Dragon Ball, in which the heroes attained extraordinary abilities through hard work, as well as the martial arts films of Belgian actor Jean-Claude Van Damme. Parkour gained popularity through online videos and social media, as well as through Hollywood movies and TV shows that featured parkour stunts and performances. Some key principles of parkour include efficiency of movement, safety, and overcoming obstacles. Practitioners of parkour also emphasize the importance of training and conditioning the body to be able to move freely and fluidly. Parkour involves completing a path through an urban environment with no assistance, no instruments and no help, just the human mind and the human body. Speed and effective movement are fundamental. You can run, climb, swing, jump, roll or crawl around, across, through, over and under obstacles in the town. Anyone can do it, to the limit of their individual ability. It's particularly popular among teenagers because it's so free and individual - and cheap! It allows the individual to explore his or her own ability without competition, but many people do it in groups for company and fun. There are also jams, events where people spend some days together training with an expert. Parkour is creative. It requires imagination. It's a complete discipline, which develops the whole body and its coordination. Parkour athletes don't need special spaces, special equipment or a lot of money. The 'track' is the town - walls, gates, barriers, benches, they're all part of the challenge! Serious Parkour athletes insist that all athletes must clean or repair anything they dirty or damage in the town.

Parkour town practice There are no judges, referees or umpires, no courts or courses, there are no team managers or trainers or coaches. There are no schools or federations to pay. You don't need a bat, a racket, a board, a ball, a bow, a saddle or special strips, helmets or footwear (although a good pair of shoes is advisable!). Parkour experts say it is a 'state of mind' and helps people to break down physical and emotional barriers, and develop self-confidence and critical thinking skills. It also encourages people to live their environment and interact with it. Who is the world champion? Don't ask that question! Expert Ron Doyle said, 'That's like asking, what's the best song in the world?'. Another expert, Erwan Le Corre, declared, 'Competition pushes people to fight against others for the satisfaction of a crowd and/or the benefits of a few business people. Parkour has an altruistic core of self-development.' Therefore Parkour is an amazing physical discipline that promotes fitness, creativity, and quick thinking. It allows practitioners to express themselves in unique and challenging ways while also providing a fun and rewarding way to stay in shape. Certainly one need the physical skill and athleticism to practice it. Parkour carries also some level of risk, but so do many other physical activities. The discipline has safety protocols and guidelines that must be followed to reduce the risk of injury. And while it may not serve a practical purpose in the traditional sense, it allows individuals to push themselves beyond their limits and explore their physical abilities in a unique and fulfilling way.

Parkour spectacular activity While parkour can be done in urban environments, it can also be done in safer and more controlled settings such as gymnastics facilities or in natural outdoor environments. And while it may not be for everyone, for those who are drawn to it, the benefits of the discipline go far beyond just staying in shape. It promotes mental toughness, problem-solving skills, and creativity. Among the best Parkour athletes in the world we can quote Travis Verkaik, Edward Scott, Nathan Weston, Elis Torhal, Shay Rudolph, Dimitris Kyrsanidis, Christian Kovalevsky, Tim Shieff, Oliver Thorpe, Miranda Tibbling and George Magowan. Red Bull Art of Motion is a parkour and freerunning competition, established in 2007 and created by Red Bull. It is an international competition with qualifiers being held in various regional competitions around the world throughout the year. Winners from the regional competitions each year earn their ticket to get to the finals, held towards the end of the year. The inaugural competition was held in Vienna, Austria, and has since been held in various other countries, including England, Kuwait, United States, Sweden, Greece (Santorini), and most recently in Matera, Italy. Judging of the event is based on several criteria including creativity, flow, execution, and difficulty. The WFPF is an organization of athletes from around the world, some on teams, some not, who’ve come together to help bring the sport and philosophy of Parkour to mainstream audiences everywhere. Like anything alive and exciting, Parkour is evolving.

Parkour art or sport Every person who makes a discovery and posts it on YouTube contributes to that process. By bringing together a diverse group of practitioners from all kinds of places and backgrounds, each with their own unique mentality, and each with deep roots in the wider community, the WFPF’s goal is that the voices of the movement will continue to shape that change in a positive direction. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_HW8qe0w-pE You can also visit the following pages: Sport news and events Sport quotes and aphorisms The Olympic games Olympic games quotes Entertainment page Read the full article

#art #discipline #media #movement #parkour #physical #shows #social #sport #Street

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trashyswitch · 3 years ago

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I Finally Figured it Out! (I Think)

Oh my gosh...I have thought of this beforehand, but not as clearly as I do now. The thought's been going through my head for years...but I've been way too doubtful of my own abilities.

I think I want to do something in psychology. Either in medicine, in the school board, or in criminology. Down below, I will take a moment to explain exactly why and how I came to this conclusion.

Ever since I was a little girl, I've always been interested in people with exceptionalities (school board word for Disabilities). Developmental exceptionalities like Autism, Down Syndrome, Cerebral Palsy, etc. as well as physical exceptionalities and intellectual exceptionalities.

But as I grew older, I grew more interested in people living in poverty. People with medical conditions. People with mental health issues. I wanted to help them next. I still want to help them!

As I got older, some of my interests turned darker. I became interested in abuse victims and serial killers like Jeffery Dahmer, Ed Gein, Kathrine Knight, etc. But it wasn't really helping them that had me interested. It was the thought of going through such pain that the person chose to go into 1 of 3 directions: 1: turn the abuse into something positive (Marilyn Munroe) 2: Get revenge and become powerful (John Wayne Gacy) 3: Somewhere in between/mix of both (Gypsy Rose Blanchard)

The way these people developed mentally...It fascinated me. I never wanted to become one of them...but I was sure interested in the origin of their mental health. It was nurture vs nature.

In my late teens and early 20's, I became interested in the idea of identity. The idea of how a face transplant could effect the identity of a person. The idea of how mental health can change people in a major way, to the point of not being able to recognize themselves. How eating disorders can warp your vision of yourself on the daily...and how (sadly) having a mental health issue, a disability, or living a life slightly different from normal has become encouraged and exploited. I have slightly fallen into that as well, with using the label as part of my identity.

The truth is...All of these interests have one thing in common: All of it interests me because I want to understand what people are going through. Anyone with a neurodiverse mind, I've ached to know what it's like living in their shoes. Some of it, I fully understand because I've experienced it first hand. But some of it...I want to know more about.

Some of the fandoms I was a part of, also reflect my thought process.

Undertale: A game about choosing how you want to be as the only human, to these monsters. The idea of isolation and a sheltered life all because of the older generations' decisions. And the idea of racial discrimination and fear developed by either side: Monsters hating humans, humans hating monsters.

The Good Doctor: The idea of a neurodiverse person being a surgeon. The idea of a person who struggles to process emotions and fall away from a (usually) strict schedule, choosing the most widely varied profession with constant schedule changes and hiccups throughout the day. How a person with some difficulty processing sensory overload, chooses the most stressful, noisy, and pressured job of all.

Jacksepticeye Egos: How a person can invent and portray so many different characters with such different personalities and quirks individual to each character. How a person can use these characters to portray his deepest pains and struggles. How a person can have such a wide spectrum of expressing themselves. From creative, to all brains. From all talk and no body movement, to all body movement and no talk.

Sanders Sides: ALL OF THIS SERIES IS PSYCHOLOGICAL BASED. Splitting his personalities into 6 (soon to be 7) different entities, and using this to express who he is as a person and how his mind really works. How the human brain can have an innocent, childish, black and white character like Roman or Patton, and also have a complicated, dark, deep, crazy character like Remus or Janus. Again, the spectrum of expression with these individual characters.

Five Nights at Freddy's: How a socially sound person who lost almost everything, can up and murder 5 children to everyone's shock. How a child or a friend of a murderer had to live with the idea of knowing this disgusting man. The idea of souls possessing animatronics and remaining on earth for 40-50 years...and how that messes with your head.

SCP Foundation: How all sorts of conscious people can handle being in containment. How a doctor, a scientist, or a faculty member can handle the idea of a containment breach or an escape. How creative and diverse the different SCP's get. It's incredible!

And that's just the tip of the iceberg!

At first, I decided to follow my interest in helping neurodiverse people...and go for being an educational assistant. But upon hearing the poor working environments, the abuse statistics in schools, the lack of care for the staff, and the constant striking to get a little bit of a raise each year, I'm becoming really doubtful. I don't exactly want to be spending my years working 2 jobs to make ends meet until I can find a partner to share salaries with. Even then, I'm not sure if our future combined salaries will be enough to cover the stupidly high inflation we have to deal with here in Canada.

So...with all this under consideration...

I think I know what I really want to do with my life. Though there's a chance my thoughts will change, we'll have to see.

My next step will be to try to narrow down my choices to what I truly want to do. Do I want to work in Criminology? Do I want to work in a school board? Or do I want to work in medicine?

I also need to keep reminding myself that if I don't like what I choose, I don't have to stay. There is always an option to move on.

And until I narrow it down and work towards reaching my goal, I plan on staying dedicated to this blog for years to come. This fanfiction blog has been an amazing hobby for me to have and hold onto, and I don't plan on throwing it away anytime soon. More fanfics are coming, and are going to continue to come for a long time. 😄💜💜

Thank you for reading this...and now to further find out what specific sciences I need to get into psychology...before going back to finishing another fanfic.

checks watch

Or maybe I should go to bed... (^v^ ' )

Wish me luck!

~Pocket

#my thoughts #future #what to do with my life #curiousity #psychology #helping people #such a big decision #who i am

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rosequart · 5 years ago

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i compiled a bunch of direct quotes about pink diamond/rose quartz from the newest artbook, end of an era. some of these quotes are taken from charts and scribbled notes, so the sentence structure might be weird.

let me know if there are any typos/missing information you think i could add!

quotes from rebecca sugar: on pink diamond/rose quartz

Pink Diamond is so sure that she’s powerless, but she’s actually profoundly powerful, so much so that she devastates people’s lives without understanding it because she thinks that she has no real power or sway.

The thing that she really lacks is balance, any ability to temper her extremes. This is part of her character throughout her forms: she’s always very extreme.

Pink fits into those older tropes, too: the restless princess, the little Winsor McCay clown.

Pink is pure want. Impulse, desire—she’s infectious. She is the flip side of White; she can bring out a Gem’s hidden personality—their deepest wants. This isn’t necessarily a Diamond power (she has a handful of Diamond powers both destructive and constructive), but she has this power in a very human sense. She is an enabler and very manipulative when it comes to getting what she wants, so when what she wants is to get closer to someone, her intensity, and her sincerity, opens them up and draws them in.

White and Pink were always clashing. The Diamond body repressed Pink’s wants, as directed by White, the self-critical conscience. Pink’s shield made it impossible for White to override Pink’s identity, so she had to find other ways to repress her.

Episodes like Bismuth make much more sense when you know that Rose is Pink, and even more sense when you understand how poorly Pink treated friends who became inconvenient.

Rose is tracked carefully through the entire show. She makes sense once you know she is her own worst enemy. She dreams, achingly, that she could become compassionate, because she’s sure she’s incapable of compassion. Her lack of respect for herself makes it impossible for her to respect everyone closest to her. She reveres them instead, because they are better than she could ever be, and that reverence is so honest and intoxicating that it draws everyone closer to her, without them understanding the deep self-hatred that pull is coming from.

She couldn’t stand herself; self-destruction is a huge theme throughout the show—the struggle of the feeling that you shouldn’t exist, and what that can do to a person. A lot of the themes of the show exist within Rose, like her inability to be honest with other people or herself about what she’s done. She’s so deeply ashamed of herself and her past, with very good reason. The truth is that the people in her life would be so much more understanding than she believes they will be. The contempt that she has for herself gets turned outward as contempt for other people when she can’t trust them. When she can’t trust herself, she can’t trust other people, and it makes it impossible for her to be close with anyone. It makes life extremely difficult for her. It makes living difficult for her.

Rose wants [honesty and trust and being able to grow and change] so badly, but she can’t really accomplish any of that until she accepts herself—and she never does.

quotes from rebecca sugar: on rose and greg

Rose and Greg have a very specific relationship. They parallel each other: Greg left his unsupportive family to follow his dreams. He changes his name and begins living as his stage persona...He invents himself.

Rose is instantly interested in Greg; he’s so human, sweet and funny and pliable. But as they get a little deeper into their relationship, Greg starts to realize how alien she actually is. She objectifies him, she laughs at him...she can’t seem to relate to him or pick up on how he’s feeling. They have a physical relationship, but they’ve never had a meaningful conversation. He starts to feel used. So he challenges her in a way she’s never been challenged before: he asks her to treat him like an equal. This is huge for her. She’s always been less than the other Diamonds and more than everyone else. She opens up to him in a real way, and over time she’s ready to confess everything to him. But he understands what it is to run away from home and reinvent yourself. He doesn’t need her old name and he’s not going to drag her through whatever it was she ran from; as far as he’s concerned, her old self isn’t the real her anyway. The real her is her in the present, the person she decided to be. [...] This is an incredible relief for her! With him, she can live authentically in the moment...They both can, but on the flip side, they enable each other. She never unpacks what scares her about her past, and neither does he.

They really wanted to have a child [...] It’s something they are genuinely excited about. And that’s something that’s left a little open-ended—just how selfish it was for Rose to do this knowing that she would disappear. What Rose is doing is outrageously selfless and outrageously selfish at the same time, and you can really read it both ways and neither is untrue.

chart notes: on pink diamond/rose quartz

Pink learns to keep secrets. She tells her new Pearl to keep them too. (She puts on an act. Behaves better.) She doesn’t trust herself...keeps asking her Pearl what to do...

The Game: Rose plays Batman on the ground. (Pearl is Robin and Alfred.) Pink tries to use Rose as an excuse to call off the invasion. This backfires when Blue and Yellow send in reinforcements.

Rose finds herself the head of a family. Determined to be everything White was not—she is close with everyone, flexible in everything. Love & fun are the rule—and there are no rules—and everyone is the most special!

chart notes: on rose and the crystal gems

Pink keeps asking Pearl what she thinks. Pearl understands she should have no opinions, and should follow orders. She is caught in a paradox. Her head swims. She laughs—feels scared—what is this?

Pearl is falling in love. Pink, as Rose, is intoxicating. She’s free somehow. They both are, when they’re on Earth.

Rose falls in love with Pearl’s surprising boldness that comes out of left field—!

Pearl and Rose start fusing a lot.

Pearl and Rose—the dust clears, revealing an endless honeymoon. Pink is gone and Pearl is free—free to love Rose.

Garnet trusts Rose, respects her secrets. She sees in Rose a self-made gem, a quartz that transcended her station out of sheer will and the power of self-love. Garnet loves Rose and her mystery, the way she learns to love & embrace the mystery of herself. Rose is her rock and inspiration.

Rose teaches Amethyst: you can be anything you want to be! Huge advocate of shapeshifting, self-expression, anarchy—however, Amethyst can sense shame from Rose and Pearl over the Kindergarten.

chart notes: on rose and the crystal gems, post-pink diamond reveal

Amethyst finally understands Rose: wanting her to shapeshift, not feel obligated to be a quartz, suddenly feels sympathy...kinship. It wasn’t Amethyst being inspired by Rose—Rose was inspired by them!

Garnet shocked: Rose taught her to love herself. If that was a lie—if Pink Diamond was self-hating, and wanted to disappear—than what does that mean for Garnet? No—it wasn’t Garnet being inspired by Rose—Rose was inspired by them!

Pearl is finally released—but, a rift—! Garnet feels betrayed! But, Pink did change! Pink did grow! Rose was different! That’s why Pearl was inspired by Rose—or, wait—Rose was inspired by them!

chart notes: on pink and the other diamonds

Pink, the littlest diamond, is largely ignored by Yellow, Blue, and White. Her silly impulses and eccentricities are not particularly helpful to the other diamonds in their endeavors. No one wants to play with her. Pink desperately wants White’s attention and approval (she will never get it).

Pink’s [original] Pearl is the only one who sees how much this upsets Pink. Pink is bright in front of Yellow, Blue, White—but when they don’t have time for her, she privately takes it hard.

Noticing Pink’s behavior, Yellow and Blue think she should have her own colony. White insists—she hasn’t really changed. She’ll never change. She gives Pink a colony—if only to prove Pink will fail.

White knows Pink is out there. This expensive, embarrassing tantrum is not worth her attention. Pink will come groveling back when she’s done running away from home.

Yellow and Blue are relieved to have Pink back—but White is vindicated. I knew you’d be back, your silly game is over—get back in place.

Steven gets Yellow and Blue to understand who he is now. But White won’t have it [...] In an ultimate act of self love, Steven fuses with himself, as White realizes—she can be wrong, and she’s truly lost her ‘daughter’.

#steven universe #end of an era #pink diamond #rose quartz #eoae spoilers #su spoilers #rose

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there-must-be-a-lock · 5 years ago

Text

Night Crawling

Sam x Reader

Word Count: ~3350

Warnings: Some explicit smutty goodness in a dive bar bathroom, some recreational drug use, some Sam feels.

A/N: I really thought I was going to write PWP for once. As usual, some feels snuck in. Set at some vague point in Season 5.

I’ve had the new Miley Cyrus album on repeat all day; inspiration, title, and bathroom graffiti quote all came from “Night Crawling.” Listen to that and “Gimme What I Want” if you want maximum ~atmosphere~ or whatever while reading.

“Another?” Sam asks, leaning in to make himself heard over the music. He gives me a twisted, wicked version of his usual dimpled smile. There’s a drop of tequila clinging to his lip, and I want to lick it off. He’s so close.

My head is still spinning from the last shot and from his attention. I shake it off.

“Bathroom, I’ll be back,” I tell him.

Sam’s in a fucking mood tonight. Not that I blame him. Time is ticking away, faster by the day it feels like; if Lucifer was after me, I’d take whatever escape I could get.

Dean’s at the motel, hopefully putting some ice on his twisted ankle or maybe sleeping, and normally Sam would be fussing over him like an overgrown fucking mother hen. Instead, he suggested that we go “blow off some steam,” looking at me with this glint in his eyes, like he was daring me.

So… here we are, getting fucked up in a grimy rock club, watching some Nine Inch Nails wannabes wail like a porn soundtrack over a dirty industrial bassline.

Sam fucking Winchester. Always full of surprises.

It’s one of those single-occupancy dive bathrooms where I don’t want to touch anything or, like, inhale too hard. It’s impossible to tell what color the walls originally were under the layers of concert flyers and graffiti. There’s probably enough cocaine residue on the chipped porcelain sink counter to get an elephant high. That kind of place.

He wants me almost as much as I want him, I’m pretty sure, but I never thought either of us would act on it. Too many complications, too many ways to fuck it all up… now, though? The entire world is fucked. Might as well get laid before it all goes to shit.

Two lines of red Sharpie scrawl next to the mirror grab my attention: night crawling, sky falling, gotta listen when the Devil’s calling.

Yeah. Well.

I don’t think either of us will make it out of this alive, but he doesn’t want to. That’s what this is all about, really. He started this apocalypse. He’ll never forgive himself if he lives through it. I’ll never forgive him if he doesn’t.

I wash my hands and splash some water on my cheeks, bracing myself. I can feel the chemicals kicking up my spine, now.

If Sam fucking Winchester needs to indulge his self-destructive streak and get out of his head for a night, I’ll keep him company. Fuck knows I’ll never say no to him. I’ll stay with him til the end, if he lets me.

It hits me again: this is the end. The world is about to end, and that sweet, sexy, puppy-eyed motherfucker out there is at the center of all of it. Heaven, hell, good, evil… and Sam. If tonight is what we’ve got — if this is all we’ll ever get — I’ll take it. I’ve always wanted more, but… this’ll do. It’ll have to do.

He’s slouching against the wall, right outside the bathroom hallway. He gives me this dark, hungry grin when he sees me, and maybe whatever was in that pastel blue pill is making itself known, or maybe it’s just Sam that’s sending a wave of prickly heat over my skin… either way, it feels good.

“C’mon,” he says, passing me a cup of ice water, and then he’s gripping me by the wrist, pulling me into the crowd.

Sam doesn’t dance, and he sure as hell doesn’t dance with me, but he’s not fucking around: hands on my waist, hair falling in his eyes as he looks down at me, cheeks flushed, moving with the beat. I rest my free hand on his upper arm, right where the swell of his bicep flexes against the soft cotton sleeve of his t-shirt, and I can’t help but squeeze slightly, feeling hot skin and muscle under my palm. I swallow hard.

Sam leans in closer. I can smell him, the natural scent of his sweat under the spice of his deodorant, and it’s so overwhelming that I shiver.

He gets his lips right up against my ear, the deep rumble of his voice a physical thing that I can feel as well as hear: “Ever just get sick of being yourself?”

Jesus.

“Yeah,” I mumble, mouth dry. I don’t know if he hears me but it doesn’t really matter.

“I think too much. I don’t want to think tonight. Is that okay?”

I suck in a breath. “Don’t need to explain, Sam. I get it.”

“Yeah?” he asks, heavy-lidded, golden skin shining with sweat in the flecks of light coming off the disco ball. “Dance with me.”

“Yeah. Yeah, Sam, anything you want.”

I toss back the cup of water, gulping it down, too eager; some of it trickles down my chin. I don’t care. I drop the cup and run my hand up Sam’s chest. His eyes flutter closed and he licks his lips, sinful, gorgeous. For a moment I think he might say something but instead he spins me around and hauls me closer, my back to his chest.

The song is filthy, all thudding funk hooks and wild drums. There’s this frantic heat behind it that has me sinking under the surface, swimming through the riff, and the pulse of it wriggles down my spine and works itself out through my hips as I toss my head. It’s the kind of rhythm that’s made for sweating all over a stranger.

Sam might as fucking well be a stranger right now. I never knew he could move like this.

His hips swivel and twist, and his hands slide down to my thighs, pinning me against the solid muscled heat of his body. I feel reckless. I feel high and overstimulated and utterly fearless, and I can feel his touch echoing through me, inside me, throbbing down my belly to where I’m empty and suddenly aching.

As soon as I think about it, the emptiness hits me hard. My cunt is clenching around nothing in time with the gritty slap of percussion. I arch my back and rub myself against Sam shamelessly.

He’s hard against my ass, hard and getting harder with every shrieking lick of guitar, and the awareness of it sends a thrill down through the core of me, like a bolt of lightning striking between my legs. My breath catches and hisses out of my lungs like I’m a punctured balloon. I feel dizzy.

It’s all so intense right now. Every inch of my skin is fizzing, and the simple curl of his fingers around my wrist has me shuddering like he’s stroking something much more intimate.

On any other night I would try to step back, to get myself under control… I’d start thinking, and I wouldn’t be able to stop, and I’d get stuck in my head instead of giving in to the mind-blowingly intimate thrill of his fingertips pressing into my pulse.

We’re not thinking tonight. I couldn’t think straight even if I wanted to.

The beat changes, segueing into something low and slinking and goddamn obscene. I’m dripping with sweat — mine or Sam’s? I can’t tell — and my skin is on fire, and I want Sam in this awful, all-consuming way that I’ve never wanted anything or anyone.

So I don’t think about it; I just turn, twisting in his arms until we’re face to face, or rather, face to chest. He’s biting his lip, expression almost pained as he grips my waist and slots a thigh between mine. I snake my arms around his neck and roll my hips, feeling the seam of my jeans dragging up the sensitive spot between my legs, and I’m absurdly grateful for the way the music drowns out any embarrassing noise I might make.

There’s a drop of sweat sliding down the corded muscle of his neck. It trickles to a glittering halt right at eye level, in the hollow of his throat, and I can see his Adam's apple bob as he swallows. I could fall down and worship whatever god invented the v-neck.

I don’t fall to my knees, but I do lean forward and taste his skin. Salt floods my tongue.

Sam’s hand runs up my back, cups the nape of my neck, and he doesn’t so much guide me as yank, tilting my head to meet the rough urgent sting of his teeth and the soft slide of his tongue. I groan into his mouth, and his hands flatten at the small of my back, pulling me impossibly closer. I want to shove myself against him until I can burrow under his skin.

His mouth. He nips and sucks and explores, lips on mine with crushing force one second, whisper-sweet the next.

I’m melting. I must be melting.

I hold on for dear life, delirious, drunk on the way he’s kissing me. I’ve imagined this before, but I never imagined it like this.

We’re still dancing, or something like it anyway; his hips swivel, and I rut against him, my entire body throbbing with animalistic need. Sam shifts his weight, grinding against me, and I can feel the fat stiff length of him right up against my center. I whimper, desperate and wanton.

One hand slides up my back, around my ribs, up, until he can trace the curve of my breast with his thumb and then pinch my nipple through my bra. When I buck against him, he does it again. My knees don’t want to support me any more.

I’m a half-second away from coming just like this. I’m shaking.

“The fuck are we doing?” Sam says roughly. He nips my earlobe.

“Not thinking, remember?” I snap, and then I’m stumbling back, almost falling, tugging him by the wrist as I start to weave through the crushing press of bodies. My heart is pounding. Everything blurs together. My skin feels too cold without him all over it.

There’s one open bathroom, no line, no reason to hesitate. The heavy door closes behind us and the deadbolt slides home with a metallic echoing thud.

He’s already crowding me back, hands on my cheeks, tip of his nose brushing mine. I grab at the front of his shirt, fingers twisting in the sweat-damp fabric. My ass hits the counter and I surge up clumsily to kiss him. The angle’s off; our teeth clack together.

We laugh and fit ourselves back together, bodies like puzzle pieces in that fucking song Sam would never admit he loves, and I could cry with relief at the way he feels under my hands. I can feel him breathing, the harsh rise and fall of his chest, and I can feel the heat of him, blood and sweat and bone, solid and real and here and mine, at least for tonight.

He fumbles with the button of my jeans and kisses me like he’s drowning. Then he curls two long fingers up and into me, grinding the heel of his hand against my clit. I lean back, heels skidding on the dirty tile as I try to brace myself and rock my hips up all at once.

“Need you to fuck me,” I bite out, remarkably steady considering the way I’m trembling.

“You gonna regret this tomorrow?” Sam asks. He twists his fingers, knuckles stretching me open, so good my eyes roll back in my head.

Tomorrow… we’re not going to think about tomorrow.

“Might regret waiting this long,” I groan. Understatement of the century.

“You ‘n me both. You sure?” He’s staring down at me and he looks wrecked: pupils blown, lips swollen, hair clinging to his temples where his skin is streaked with sweat.

“Do you feel how close I am?” I grab his wrist with one hand, holding him there, fucking myself on his fingers as I try to pull my jeans down with the other hand.

Sam’s mouth drops open and his eyes go unfocused for a second. Whatever self-control he had left is gone. He pulls his hand away, and I whine at the loss, but together we get my pants down, and I kick them off as he gets his belt open. He’s just as big as I always imagined, proportional to those sinfully long elegant fingers, and my mouth fucking waters as I watch him stroke himself.

He bites his lip, chest heaving, and tugs me up onto the very edge of the grimy sink counter. Before I can find my balance he’s right there, hooking an arm under my knee so that he can spread my legs wider, and he’s guiding the hot velvety head of his cock down my center and in, and the slick blunt pressure of it makes me claw at his back, trying to get him closer even though I can barely handle how good that first thick inch feels.

“Fuuu - unnhhhhh - fuck, Sam, I need…” I choke out, and then all I can do is pant breathlessly, incoherent, as he rocks his hips and starts to stretch me open. I’m helpless like this, no leverage to do anything but sit there and take it, and he moves so maddeningly slow that I’m going out of my skull.

“God, look at you,” he breathes. “So fucking good. Always wondered what you’d look like taking my cock. Always imagined you begging. Are you gonna beg for me?”

“If you don’t shut the fuck up and give it to me, Sam, I swear —”

“Yeah?” he growls. He grips my hips hard enough to bruise.

I wrap my legs around his waist, hooking my ankles together, leaning back on my hands, and then I can arch my back and pull him deeper, working myself onto his cock.

“Sam —” I start, but before I can say anything else he slams home, grinding in hard and fast, and my voice cracks on a stuttering, incoherent whine. It’s blindingly good. He’s steely-hard and so goddamn thick I feel like I’m about to split open, like one wrong move is going to pull me apart. His first rolling thrust sparks this wrenching wave of pressure that fills me up and shakes me down to the tips of my toes, my entire body rippling with feverish heat.

“That’s my girl,” he pants. He pulls me against him and twists up, rough and filthy, and I shudder against him, writhing, mindless and overwhelmed.

“Sam,” I choke out. My voice is high-pitched and squeaky-thin, and the next sharp thrust makes me forget whatever I was going to say beyond, “Nnnnhhhhhyesohgod.”

“There?”

“Fuck. Yes.”

He moans, low and broken, and finds that perfect spot again, grinding into it with eye-popping force.

I can feel it, pleasure cramping through me with every movement, coiling up, building around the deep throbbing ache where he’s fucking into me. I feel like a wild animal, primal and lost.

“Good girl. Fuck, feels so good.”

I clutch at his shoulders, muscles quaking, burying my face in his neck as all that white-hot pressure peaks inside me. I let out an ugly, anguished sob, can’t hold it back, and then all I can feel is the all-consuming spasm of my orgasm, tension rocketing through every inch of me, sending me out into space for a long paralyzed moment. The first pulse of it is so scary-intense that I can’t breathe, can’t control myself, can’t keep track of my own body…

Then it all comes back at once, and I’m exquisitely aware of Sam against me as he fucks me through it, hips surging forward as I squeeze around him and urge him deeper.

“Thought about this so many times,” he’s confessing, ragged and raw.

“Me too,” I gasp.

He sucks in a shaky breath, moving slower as I start to come down, and I can feel him holding back now. “Think about you so fucking much, I can’t —”

“Me fucking too, Sam.”

He kisses me, gentle in a way that could very easily destroy me.

“This isn’t how it was supposed to go,” he whispers, forehead sweaty where it rests against mine.

“Fuck, Sam, don’t — this is —”

I feel so strange and strung-out, caught between the shivery aftershocks in my belly and the startling tenderness in his voice as he mumbles, “Wanted to take my time.”

“Sam.”

“Wanted to take my time with you,” he repeats. He moves against me with this slow, snakelike undulation. “Wanted to lay you out and kiss you everywhere and fucking worship you.”

“We can. We can — I want that.”

“Never gonna be enough,” he chokes out. “I knew — I knew, if I did this, I’d never want to stop.”

My skin is lit up with the feel of him, liquid heat gathering in my gut as my body responds to every perfect touch, but I’m afraid my ribcage is about to split open with the way my heart is hammering.

We’re in a goddamn dive bar bathroom, for fuck’s sake, and I’m fucked up, and maybe this will feel cheap and tawdry and silly in the morning, but… somehow I don’t think it will. Somehow this feels like the most important thing that’s ever happened to me.

“Why’d we wait this long?” I ask. There’s an embarrassing wobble in my voice.

“Because I’m a fucking idiot,” he grits out. “Because I was scared.” Before I can respond, he kisses me, all teeth and desperation, twisting his hips and swallowing my moan. He slides his hands under my shirt, sliding them up my back, and drags his fingernails down in trails of stinging heat. It’s pleasure and pain and fucking obliteration, and the sensory overload has me spiraling out again.

“Fuck that,” I half-laugh. My back arches and my voice breaks, and I bite his lip hard enough that I taste copper.

He groans, full-throated and shameless, and ducks his head, sinking his teeth into the sweat-slick curve of my neck. He sucks, nibbles, and it sets off fireworks behind my eyelids.

“Close, Sam. So close,” I babble, breathing harsh and heavy. I tangle my fingers in his hair and pull, and I can feel him moan. “Never thought it’d feel like this. It’s — this is so much better —”

He shudders against me, lets out this long, guttural sound, and then he shifts and pounds into me harder, and all I can do is cling to him, pulling him closer like I’m never going to let go. “C’mon, then. Fuck. Tell me what you want.”

“Please, Sam. Just — please. Please.”

“I’d do anything for you,” he growls. “You know that, right?”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

“Don’t leave me,” I blurt out, as the unbearable tension starts to crest. “Don’t leave me, Sam. Please.”

I know he hears it. He gasps like I punched him. I can feel him jerk, twitch, fingers clawing at my back, cock twitching and swelling inside me as he starts to come. I bite down on the meat of his shoulder as I let go. My orgasm feels like it’s ripping something loose, an earthquake in my core, and I don’t trust myself not to say exactly what’s on my mind. There’s a surge of pleasure, one glowing wave of it then another, and I’m dimly aware of shuddering against Sam as he rocks into me one more time, clutching him close… as if I could get close enough to keep him here with me.

It’s impossible to be sad right now. I’m chemically incapable of sadness, still soaring high, but this is so much bigger than sadness anyway. I just feel like I’m about to break.

“That,” he says, with an ugly sound, half-laugh, half-sob. “That’s what I was afraid of. That I wouldn’t ever want to leave.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “Let’s just — let’s not think about it. Okay? Can we go back to the motel and — can we do that again? Take our time?”

“Just for tonight?” he asks raggedly.

“Just for tonight. We’re not going to think about what comes next.”

He nods. We both know it’s a lie.

#sam winchester smut #sam x reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader smut #supernatural #spn fic

408 notes · View notes

remsmoonlight · 4 years ago

Text

— title : brownies n’ breaks

— word count : 2.2 k words

— pairing : daryl dixon x reader

— summary : cooking is your love language and it’s time that you are able to finally make something for Daryl, protected from the high walls that alexandria boasts of are you finally able to bring that vision to life

— warnings : absolutely nothing, except sickly sweet fluff

oooo another daryl request if you’re willing!!! maybe once they get to alexandria reader makes daryl some homemade brownies or some shit because she knows he’s never had much homemade food if any just some domestic cute shit??🥺🥺♥️

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　requested 　/ requests are open *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Sweetness flows throughout the air of your new home, sliding into every corner it can find to fill and warm. The smell of domesticy is something you thought perished long ago when the world died, but here you stand.. with a fresh batch of brownies in the oven baking as if life rebooted and got set back to factory settings. You move from the oven, small steps to the door to be able to survey the kitchen area once more, blinking as if to erase it from your vision, to be greeted with the punishing sun and the dirt filled roads lined with ghosts.

A cozy yellow glow is snug in the pit of your stomach as you think about who the sweet bake belongs to, Daryl has been nothing less than golden. From Atlanta, all the way to Alexandria.. he has always been one to step up without even thinking. You’d shared many secluded moments together, talking about your pasts and while he has never explicitly said anything, you have created a picture in your head about what he has gone through. The love not shared healthily to someone who will always put his family first. Even prior to the downfall of society, you loved to cook for everyone you knew.

You settle yourself with a book on the window ledge close to the kitchen, awaiting the arrival of Daryl, a giddiness that could be likened to a snowfall of glitter falling gracefully within you.

“ you know, when we finally find a new home. I will make you the best brownies you’ve ever had! “

“ if y’don’t burn ‘em first. “ he replied, the corner of his eyes crinkle so delicately as he chuckles lowly.

“ don’t be so fucking mean! here I am trying to do something nice.. it won’t kill you! “ you argue humorously, your fist balling up to punch his arm with little force.

Laughter and carelessness had been a rarity after surviving Terminus, your focus on trying to find safety.. no matter how much of a dream it may be. The journey to coming to terms with the fading faces and memories of the prison has been a painful one, comfort was not something that could easily be found, yet you found it in the least conventionally affectionate person you knew.

“ if anythin’s gonna kill me, it ain’t gonna be your cooking. “

“ actually, I cook very well. it will be a good day when I finally get to show you. “

An airy smile brightens your features, the burdenless weight unable to keep your lips stuck together. Many memories you have with him are of the fond kind, of course, the course of your bond with him runs deep but never has it been a calm sea. There have been moments where you wonder if it’s one sided, if you are inventing a picture that you wish to bleed through to reality, then you are proven wrong and he does things that you know in your heart are true. It has taken losing friends, a home, finding new hope to strengthen that bond and while you would prefer to take the easy road, you know that nothing will ever split the two of you into shards of glass that will never be able to be repaired. You’re both strong people, but stronger together.

A figure clad in black and covered in grime makes their way up the flawless road to where you rest, your vision could be awful but you can make out his being anywhere. The book you hold is laid to rest, your feet already carrying yourself to the door to meet him. Days had past since you last saw him and you can now feel the chords of longing pulling as you had missed him.

Your hand encloses the door handle, swinging it open to finally land your gaze on his form, feeling as if it had been years you’d not done so, as opposed to a few days.

“ took you long enough. “

“ yeah, yeah. quit your complainin’. “

You move aside, Daryl taking the cue from you and entering the house that bares no soul at that present moment. Everyone is out with their own agenda or job, leaving you to potter about to your own devices.

Some peace and privacy for even a few hours is something you are thankful for, two things that had been incredibly rare from your journey from Atlanta. Though, the noise that comes with your family reminds you of the moments you couldn’t wait to be rid from as you grew up are ones that you no longer fail to appreciate.

“ did you find anybody out there? “

Daryl shakes his head, you see the trouble that he wears often become even more apparent as it overwhelms his features intensely. Knowing Daryl as well as you do, you know that while he won’t admit it out loud, every time he goes out there with Aaron to find people and finds no one wounds his spirit more and more. While his desire to save everyone is admirable, it’s often a concern to you that it might be the straw that breaks the camel’s back and he’s often met with your comforting energy of it being simply an unsustainable trait.

“ you know you won’t always find people, right? “ you ask him softly, tucking your legs underneath you as you seat yourself on the sofa.

Daryl refuses to sit, it’s a thought that regularly finds itself bouncing around your mind as to why he can’t relax even behind the walls of Alexandria.

“ yea’, still sucks though. “ he wipes his thumb across his nose, an unconscious habit on his part, discussing his thoughts and feelings has never been easy, raised in a home full of toxicity stunted him emotionally, something he still wrestles with when the occasion arises.

“ there’s going to be a day where you’ve gone and saved everyone! there won’t be anyone left for you to bring back! cut yourself some slack. “

Daryl doesn’t respond, knowing there is truth in your words but he has seen so much death already, the world gripped by dark and dim choke hold, a little dusting of life is something that has been lacking since it died. Avoidance of feelings is something Daryl flees to when the conversation gets tough, he can deal with words full of anger and rage, but topics so delicate still feel so alien to him.

“ wha’ y’been up to? “ the male questions you, seemingly interested in what you have been up to, watching you from the otherside of the room.

As if a switch had been flipped, your eyes ignite with excitement and joy as you have finally been able to fulfil your unofficial promise to him.

“ remember when we were talking about my cooking? when you insulted it? “ the sides of your lips gently lift with a soft innocence, you feel the elation slowly warming the entirety of your body at the simpleness of it all.

“ y’ain’t gone and poisoned sumn’ have ‘ya? “ asks Daryl, turning to face you from across the floor where he stood. His tone holds a ‘ blink and you will miss it ‘ humour threaded into his words.

“ I should have! “ laughing at him, you fit your fingers between his and lead him into the kitchen with you.

Touch is still something that sends an uncomfortable shiver to travel the distance down his spine, but with everything you have been through and all the time you have spent together, touch is something he’d never turn from when thinking of you. Your relationship has been a strange, never formal one, but it is perfect for the two of you. Unspoken words full of warmth and fondness are a solidity in each one’s souls, and while you both never shared the extent of what the two of you have with the group, they have their suspicions and theories. But if they know one thing, it’s Daryl’s affection for you runs deep.

“ brownies! “

He peaks into the oven that you have opened, the rich smell of cocoa and heat baking the treats hit him like a brick, a pit forms deep in his stomach. This is different from past meals beforehand. You had gone out of your way for him, of all people. Never could he mentally grip why you have been so kind and benevolent with him but it’s something he treasures deeply. In the beginning he was more abrasive with you more than anyone else, but it used to be his go to defense mechanism with everyone in your family. Softness never being something destined for him was beaten into him for a young age, learning only how to loathe and to only say words in anger. It wasn’t until you came along and took your time with him did he let you in, something you have been grateful ever since.. especially since you have been able to discover the colourful soul that resides within him.

“ y’didn’t have to. “ he replies, his mouth watering at the mere smell of the brownies that are close to being fully baked.

“ Daryl… “ a softness in your response that is only reserved for him is heavy, your eyebrows furrowing in dejection. You know enough of his history to be confident in your placed hurt for him being unable to experience kindness in a positive manner. Your hand trails up his clothed arm and rests on his shoulder lightly, allowing for him to decide whether or not to accept the physical affection. He doesn’t shrug it off, if anything he leans more into your touch. “ you know I’m doing this because I want to, you deserve something nice! “

“ thanks. “

“ and they’re nearly done, so you best take a seat. “

Daryl follows your order with little encouragement, a smirk that he conceals from your view and sits at the lengthy dinner table. He’s having trouble connecting the dots of the dead walking and civilisation ended and the pure normalcy of him sitting at a dinner table about to eat home cooked brownies. Even back when the world was bustling with life and people working their nine to fives were home cooked meals a rarity.

“ so this is what y’spent your day on? “ he asks as he watches you with a spark of fondness in his eyes as you work in the kitchen.

“ cooking is therapeutic. “

“ y’ a weird person. “ Daryl quips, staring at you right in your eyes. His expression gives nothing away, though his eyes speak a thousand words and paint a thousand colours that you understand fully.

It’s lucky you know him so well to understand when he’s being serious and when not.

“ but you like it! “

The squares of the baked treats are uneven and jagged, your features contorting into a confused frown at how they could so well until the end. You blame the knife for the imperfection and flaws of the appearance of what lays before you, however your heart knows it’s your inability to present your dishes artistically.

“ now I apologise they don’t look good but they do taste good! “

“ y’never have to say sorry for anythin’ “ he thoughtless says, his mind to preoccupied with the food laid before him.

A picture painted by his mind long ago had you as the perfect person, it’s comforting to know the flaws you have are nothing short of charming in your own little way. With the lack of elegance associated with him, his fingers dig into the irregular shape of the brownie and shoves half of it into his mouth.

You watch him with your breath holding itself, never have you been a person who has wanted to impress but when it comes to Daryl? You find yourself wanting to do that and more.

“ well? “

He nods with his mouth full, unable to formulate his words. His jokes about your cooking being bad have been nothing more than that, jokes. But even as he’s consuming the small squares he’s surprised at how good they taste, better than he could even imagine.

“ ain’t half bad. “

“ in Daryl speak that means they’re pretty damn great, huh? “ you question him rhetorically, amusement dancing on each word you speak as you gaze steadily on his form.

“ well y’didn’t burn the house down. “

Your mouth opens and eyes widen considerably as your expression twists from being filled to the brim of affection to one of shock, aghast at his jovial words. The laughter tumbles carelessly from your lips as you reach across to swat his arm playfully.

“ you are so rude! “

He joins in with your laughter, a sight so infrequent that you wish you could burn the image into your mind with no chance of being erased by time. It’s moments like these, where you truly feel like the only two people in the world, stolen moments you hold close to your heart. You hope that you will reach a space where you both will be able to freely express your feelings, while the mutual affection is known between the both of you, sometimes you want to use words. So he knows, because it’s something he deserves. To know how much he is loved, without cowering away from the subject.

“ nah I’m just kiddin’. thanks, I mean it. “

#daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x reader #twd imagine #the walking dead imagine #daryl x reader

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blu-joons · 5 years ago

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DATING STRAY KIDS HEADCANON A⇴Z ⇴ Seo Changbin

A ⇴ AFFECTION

Surprisingly Changbin loves affection, he loves to receive cuddles from you or wrap you up in his arms. He might come off as strong, but your affection is very reassuring to him, and always makes sure that he feels loved.

B ⇴ BEFORE DATING

The two of you met at an event, and straight away his eyes were on you. He was desperate to approach you as soon as he saw you, noticing your smile first. All of the boys could tell he was watching you too, pushing for him to make the move and approach you before he regretted missing out on the opportunity to meet you.

C ⇴ CONFESSION

All his confidence disappeared as he made the decision to approach you, no one had ever seen him as nervous as he was when he went over to talk to you. He tentatively smiled when you looked up at him, listening to him closely as he used the advice that the boys had given him to try and impress you. You loved how shy he got around you and the little blush he tried so hard to hide on his cheeks as you gave him your number to call you.

D ⇴ DATES

He loved to try and be inventive with your dates to give the two of you new places to explore. He loves anything physical where he can show off to you and try and impress you, he’ll never let you win at anything, especially bowling and the arcade. He’s not one for sitting down to a meal and being romantic, but if it’s something you like, he’ll do it anyway to impress you, even dressing himself up in a nice suit to really make you smile. Anything that you want to do, Changbin will always make the effort to do it with you.

E ⇴ EXPERIENCE

You were the first proper relationship that Changbin had experienced, he’d flirted with a couple of girls, that was just his personality, but he never wanted anything serious. When he met you, Changbin knew that he’d fallen in love for the first time, he was always so busy with work, but with you, he’d make the time too. The best thing of all was that you were always so understanding, when he needed you, you were there, but when he needed to be away to focus on work, you were always happy to wait until you could see him again.

F ⇴ FIGHTING

At times he can be quite stubborn if things don’t go his way, but he’ll never blow anything up into a full argument. You learnt pretty quickly how to deal with his stubbornness, and even if he thinks he’s right, you’ll know he’s not. Time is a good thing for the two of you, after he calms himself down, he’s a bit happier to talk things out and take on your opinion. But you’re both good at keeping yourselves calm and not raising your voices too much when you have a disagreement, preferring to keep things relaxed and not too stressful, there’s nothing Changbin hates more than potentially shouting at you.

G ⇴ GETTING TO KNOW HIS FAMILY

You knew how proud his parents were of his career, so you certainly felt the pressure to impress them and let them know he was still focusing on work. Luckily, Changbin had talked to them about you constantly, so already they had a good first impression that was only established when they met you and got to know you properly.

H ⇴ HOME

Changbin often felt torn when it came to his home, he loved being at the dorm with the boys, but he was also quite keen to find a place with you and settle down. You hated how he tormented himself about it, and you also knew that the dorm was the place for him as the band continued to grow, which in turn, meant the dorm often became your home too.

I ⇴ “I LOVE YOU”

You were actually the first to say those three words after Changbin got whiny during a rare loss on date night at the bowling alley. Everything you tried didn’t work to make him smile, but you knew one thing would get him to smile, and that was it. Of course, as he registered what you’d said, he was quick to say it back to you and give you the tightest of hugs.

J ⇴ JEALOUSY

He’s very protective of things that are his and so he hates when people get too close to you. He trusts very few people around you as he always likes to keep you safe and make sure that he’s around you to keep an eye on. He likes to be the one to make you smile and happy, and if anyone else does that, he can’t help but feel a little bit nervy. When he feels like he needs to step in, he’s not afraid to pop up beside you and interject and make sure that your attention comes straight back to him to take you out of a situation.

K ⇴ KIDS

The two of you decided quite early on talks for the future were quite far away just yet, but that didn’t stop Changbin knowing that he wanted to have kids with you. There was a lot he wanted to achieve first, but sometimes he just couldn’t help but runaway a little bit with his mind when he thought about how he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you, and all of the things that he wanted to do with you.

L ⇴ LAUGHTER

Changbin is well known for his cheery nature which is why you love to hear his laugh so much. The strong cackle he lets go of always puts a smile on your face watching as he messes around and tries to impress you. Similarly, hearing your laughter is very important to him too, it always reassures him when he knows that you’re happy and that he’s doing his job as a boyfriend to make you smile. Together when the two of you are laughing everybody knows that they’ve got no chance of talking to you both until you stop.

M ⇴ MISSING

He never minded too much about being away from home, until he met you. He never imagined that he’d miss just one person from his life so much, but he did with you. When he’s away from you, whether it’s a day, a week, or a year, he’ll try to be in contact with you as much as possible. Time zones often provide a challenge, so if needed, Changbin will always make sure he is the one that stays up late or gets up really early to be able to call you making sure that you don’t mess up your schedule. He’d try hard to convince you that he wasn’t having a hard time, but you could always tell by the expression on his face that he was missing you.

N ⇴ NICKNAMES

You were his little ‘bub,’ he loved to cuddle you and adore you. Similarly, you loved to call him ‘bub’ too when pinching his cheeks or just cooing over how sweet and soft he actually is.

O ⇴ OBSESSION

Changbin’s obsessed with your body, especially when you dance around unaware that he’s watching you, he loves watching you let loose and just enjoy yourself.

P ⇴ PDA

He’s not a huge fan of soft affection in public, but that won’t ever stop him holding onto your hand or placing his hand somewhere against your body to keep you close. If there are few people around then he may engage in a bit more affection, or if he’s feeling jealous or insecure, he’ll hold onto you a little tighter to send more of a message.

Q ⇴ QUESTIONS

His questions normally look for your opinion as no one’s opinion matters more to him then yours. Whether it be a dance, or a song, or prep for filming, he’ll always come to you and make sure that you’re impressed with what he’s done.

R ⇴ RANDOM FACTS

Whenever he was on the stage, Changbin would always place his hand in his pocket with two of his fingers out and pressed against his trousers. Whilst everyone else just thought that was how Changbin stood, what it actually was, was a sign for Changbin to let you know you were on his mind. As soon as you spotted him doing it at any event you knew that he was thinking of you, which always put a smile on your face.

S ⇴ SEX

This is by far when Changbin is at his softest, he loves to pay attention your body and shower you with love. Intimate moments are when his hard exterior really drops and he turns into the softest boy. He’s not always one to be dominate, but he does like to be in control and make sure that he’s the one taking care of you and not the other way round. If he’s had a bad day or he’s feeling low, that’s when he’ll look to your touch and attention to make him feel better again.

T ⇴ TEXTS

As already mentioned, whenever he has time away from you, Changbin relies on texts to keep in contact with you. He’s always texting you whenever he has a moment just to check on you and make sure that you’re doing alright.

U ⇴ UNIVERSE

If there was one person who could deal with such a big personality, it was you. At times he often struggled to understand how you managed to deal with him, but you did, without a single complaint or a groan.

V ⇴ VACATION

Whenever he had a few days off Changbin liked to go and explore with you, he hated doing things alone, but now he had someone with him he loved nothing more than to travel a bit. It didn’t matter where you were, Korea or beyond, he always loved to take you somewhere and also get some time away from the dorm.

W ⇴ WHINING

He’s a well-known whiner, so whenever you don’t give him attention he will whine and whine until you pay attention to him and give him the love that he wants.

X ⇴ XXXXX

Changbin loves to kiss you in private, he’s very affectionate with you. He loves to trail kisses across your body and make you smile, whenever you weren’t paying attention to him, he’d use kisses as a way of getting you to look at him. He loves being able to shower you in affection when you’re in the comfort of your own space and always make sure that you know how loved and appreciated you are by him.

Y ⇴ YOU

You were his everything, the only person he wanted forever to be with.

Z ⇴ ZZZ

Just like when he’s awake, when he’s asleep, Changbin loves to have you around and be able to hold you. He can never sleep well without having you around him to look after him and give him the comfort he needs to rest.

---

Masterlist

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awake-dearheart · 4 years ago

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it took me a couple days but here’s a rundown of things sebastian said during the zoom call with his trainer don saladino and the march challenge group. he was on for an hour and three minutes total. keep in mind this challenge was fitness oriented so most of the questions revolve around that. this will also be LONG.

first of all he had trouble unmuting himself which was hilarious

he had a carboard cutout of the falcon with him which made everyone laugh

he loved being able to support ronald mcdonald house and he was sad they couldn’t go this year. sweet baby

when he was asked what he struggles with in his fitness he immediately said body dysmorphia. like no hesitation. he said he felt like he could stand to be less hard on himself.

he prefers cardio over other kinds of workouts.

he mentioned a role he’s getting ready for that’s “a lot different” but he laughed it off and said he couldn’t talk about it. i’m thinking it might have been tommy lee?

he tries to workout even just a little before he goes to set even when his schedule is crazy.

when he started training he had NO idea what he was doing. it took him a while to get into a routine and figure it out. he credited don with working a lot with him and finding a routine that works for him.

he feels better when he can do something physical every day. he said it really helps him mentally because the two go hand in hand for him.

someone said they were learning romanian and asked him for phrases to learn in romanian he said (in romanian) “oh my GOD why would you do that?” he also said he thinks people learning romanian because of him is “one of the sweetest things.”

he was asked how he balances training to look good vs training to feel good and he said if he’s training to look good he’s never 100% satisfied. training to feel good and setting short term goals has been better for him.

don praised him for working hard to pivot his focus on the overall vs the day to day. seb said it was a lot harder when he started than it is now.

someone asked him if the workouts or the nutrition was harder and he immediately started talking about pizza and how much he loves a good cheat meal. the chat blew up talking about his cheat day video for men’s health.

seb asked don his favorite cheat meal and they went on a tangent about burgers and fries and vodka that had us cracking up. seb said he went through a period where he was eating some kind of chocolate every day.

someone asked if he found it mentally difficult to go from one body type to another for roles and he said absolutely. he said if he has a shirtless scene to do then a month before he cuts out ALL sugar. fruits, carbs, everything and he turns into a very irritable person for about two weeks.

he was asked how the pandemic has changed his training and he said of course it has. him and don worked together to create a program for him to do from home with dumbbells and they had to get inventive. he’s been running a lot too.

someone asked the strangest item he’s used for weights and he said he’d go to the grocery store by himself without uber or anything. he tried to do one big shopping trip to last him for a week and half and he’d be laden with bags and it took him an hour and a half to walk home.

he told a story about using a towel and a bar in his house and he said “you probably know it because some “super fans” love to leak my address. so kind. lovely people.” the chat became v enraged.

he’s never had to get in shape on super short notice. marvel usually gives him about a 2 month heads up before he has to shoot things.

someone asked if he was a dog person. he said he loves dogs and he’d love to have one but he travels too much to give one the right kind of attention. he said if he could have a dog he’d have a bulldog or a husky.

he was asked his favorite nyc cheat meal and his first answer was “seeing all of you there” and we all cracked up. his real answer was a pizza place called rubirosa. he specifically likes their white pizza. (who wants to go to new york and get pizza with me?)

who would win in an iso squat challenge? him or don? (iso squats are when you drop into a squat and you hold it. it’s been the most hated exercise throughout the challenge). his face was HORRIFIED when he remembered what they are and he said don would definitely win. “don you have thighs of glory” the group is contemplating making shirts.

he played some sports in school but he wasn’t a super athletic kid. he struggled in school a bit because he had an accent and people were picking on him. it took a long time for his confidence to build.

celebrate victories where you can. he talked about when he posted that shirtless picture from the gym as an example. he said it’s more for motivation and pride in his achievements than about showing off.

he mentioned the documentary “the weight of gold” as something he watched recently. he said it’s a good example of people who are gold medal olympians struggling with the same things as everyone else when it comes to fitness. he comes back several times to not being too hard on yourself.

he hasn’t lifted any weights in about a month and a half but he’s been running. he’s surprised at the amount of muscle he still has because he thought he’d lose a lot of it.

taking breaks when you’re working on fitness is so important. he says taking a week off sometimes is ok if that’s what you need.

they have talked about pizza at least 5 times at this point (32 minutes in) and it’s HILAROUS honestly.

he hates leg day. he knows how important it is because you need strong legs but he prefers doing arms and chest. “the squats can be so annoying UGH.”

someone asked him his advice for people who are starting an acting career and he laughed and said “quit all social media.” he walked it back and said you have to find a way to quiet the noise.

this mfer went to theatre camp when he was 15 and he did MUSICALS. we tired to get him to sing. it didn’t work.

“you gotta do you. you cannot lose you as you’re going. and you cannot care what people think.”

he talked about imposter syndrome in terms of getting reviews and stuff. he said when he gets bad reviews it hurts but sometimes when he gets good reviews he can think “oh my god they made a mistake” or “oh my god i have to deliver like this every time.” he said if you’re starting out ask yourself why you want to do this and make sure this is what you want to do day in a day out. make sure when you face rejection and obstacles you have the energy to push you to get back up and say “fuck you i’m doing me.”

recommended the book “the subtle art of not giving a fuck” as something he loves.

“there’s creativity in everything. you don’t have to be a pianist or an actor or a writer. there’s creativity in all functions. as people we’re all creative.”

he went back to instagram for a minute and said to use it for the right things and follow the things that you like or are inspired by. he loves that social media can be used to reach people but you have to filter through the negative stuff.

someone asked the meanest thing don’t ever said during training and he said don’s never been mean but he’s always been inspiring and motivating for him. cute lil bromance moment.

he was asked if it’s harder to get into shape physically for the winter soldier or mentally. he said now it’s more of a head thing than it was in the beginning. the physically part was challenging for him in the beginning because he wanted to feel strong to build his confidence. he felt he couldn’t be bucky without being strong.

civil war was his real hair but when they started filming it wasn’t long enough so he had extensions. by the end of the shoot it was long enough to cut the extensions out.

the line between overtraining and not being motivated to train enough is hard for him sometimes. things tend to come all at once or not at all and it can be a struggle.

he meditates and does some kind of physical activity every day at the start of his day. it makes him able to do the things he needs to do for the rest of the day better.

he thanked everyone for their support of tfaws and “making us look pretty good.” he’s very grateful for the turnout.

don says falcon weird. that’s not important but i wanted to mention it.

running is his go to thing. he feels like it’s a good meditative thing for him. his go to pandemic workout was 100 pull ups, 100 push ups, 100 sit ups, 100 squats and alternating with running. we all panicked and were like “100 PULL UPS AT ONCE??” and he was like no no no no no no no no space that shit out during the day.

he loves breakfast but he doesn’t eat it at breakfast time. he joked he was going to eat breakfast after the call (which ended at 7PM). he likes anything with eggs and avocado.

there are still directors he wants to work with that he can’t get to see him for parts. he did three audition tapes, two in person auditions, and a screen test to get bucky.

he just recently learned what “thirst pics” are (he figured out from the chat it’s thirst traps). when someone told him that picture from the gym was a thirst trap he was like “oh great well that sounds terrible.” men’s health didn’t call him until after that pic. he had reached out to them before that but that was the thing that made them call.

“make fun of yourself. you have to not take yourself too seriously.”

they both talked about how being able to do things like this is a privilege. there are always days when seb or don or anyone walks into a gym and doesn’t want to be there.

this is the part that made me emotional as FUCK. he’s had days where he’s gone to set and been like “what the fuck am i doing?” he says every time that happens he thinks “this is the time they’re gonna realize i can’t do this. this is when they’re all gonna know i’ve never been good at this.” he said in those moments you can’t just say “no no no i’m the best.” he said sometimes affirmations work and they can be as simple as “i’m gonna try to have a good day today” and it doesn’t have to be “i have to be the best version of myself.” it can just be “i wanna have a good day today” but on the days when you don’t feel good about things and don’t know what you’re doing he said you have to go there and say “ok i don’t know what the fuck i’m doing. fuck everything.” be in the thing that’s happening to you and give yourself permission to be down for a minute. find a compromise with yourself. if you can’t run the same three miles you’ve run all week and you just don’t want to, maybe you go for a walk instead. (his example not mine i DO NOT run). when he’s been in those moments of defeat accepting it had lead him to things he didn’t plan for and he finds those moments to be gifts in a way. accepting it and saying “today is that day” your body and your mind can start moving into finding other little things to do.

he came back to pizza one more time. i love him.

he recognizes how lucky he is to have the life he has. he says it’s important to pay attention to give a fuck about things and to give a fuck about things that will help other people.

watching him talk the whole time he seemed so happy and relaxed. he seems like such a light hearted and fun person and he laughed SO much

that’s the end y’all. thanks for sticking around and reading all my hastily typed notes

#Sebastian Stan #don saladino

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cherryblossomtease · 4 years ago

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Chapter 16

18 + only

warnings and summary - Masterlist

Authors Notes: So maybe sometimes I get a little wrapped up in the romance and the drama amongst the kink *shrug* I was very much in my feelings while writing the next few parts but I sincerely hope you enjoy the next few posts over the next couple of nights. I’m happily working on the ending!

Warnings: 18+ only as always. Thank you for knowing your own limits. Not everyone can handle this much Bronte… by Bronte I mean m/m/f action lols- no but really— explicit sexual situations, m/m first time sexual exploration and insinuation, dom Zemo, sub reader, sub Bucky

You’re convinced overindulgence was invented on the first yachts. It was probably the romans who came up with it. Caligula comes to mind. Terrible person, evil fuck really. Threw epic parties though and some of the best were on boats. While you’re missing a few hundred people to reach those levels, the next couple of days could inspire a depraved emperor or two.

You eat drink and laugh your way through a hazy cloud of hedonistic delight until you've managed to find yourself between them, beside them or beneath them on every level of the yacht. And if you aren't being fucked into oblivion, then you and Bucky are on your knees obeying Helmut’s many commands.

And yet it’s not all A.D. levels of body fluid swapping. You and Bucky convince Zemo to give your favorite baking competition show a chance and end up binging all of season three from the start, with you cheering when the winner is announced because you called it when they thought it would be the odds-on favorite.

During the lazy days that drag on so much longer than real life would ever allow, you team up with Bucky and nearly defeat Zemo at an endless game of chess which you can see only happens because he allows it; however you both easily beat the Baron at shuffleboard and more than once until he's convinced you’re both cheating.

The games are fun of course, but what you most like is watching Zemo and Bucky find their stride as a couple while learning how to share you, after all they've only ever had you apart. It's sweet to see them so attentive and aware of one another, not wanting to make the other feel pushed aside or less than. Yes Zemo is the dominant one in this relationship, thats been established, but respect and care for feelings is not bound by a role.

It's the little things that show this, like how Zemo will watch the way Bucky traces his finger down your neck thinking you don't see him looking and adjust his own subtle displays of affection. It happened in the lounge after you all went swimming just this past afternoon. You’d settled onto the low couch together, reading and scrolling. He used to touch you just like that—playing with your hair, stroking the back of your neck— now he watches, and it makes him smile to see Bucky so gentle with you. Without a word and little effort he lifts your legs up and over his own putting his feet up on the coffee table before getting lost in his book again so that you are cradled between them. This way, Bucky is free to touch you as much as he wants and Helmut can wrap his arm around the tops of your thighs and lay his warm hand on your knee. Sometimes, when he reads something especially interesting, he grips just a little tighter...

Helmut Zemo.

Your ever observant Baron. Always attentive to every need, so ready to serve for a man so quick with a command. Be it a drink, or a late night snack; Helmut is never above offering every comfort. He is a gentle and adoring force of such intense love that you both feel swallowed by the world he’s built around you.

On a calm and peaceful night —you can’t say which one, because you’ve intentionally lost count— the sky is full of stars and a low hanging white moon, so the three of you go out onto the bedroom balcony and curl up together on the oversized white sofa. You’ve brought a glass of wine and a blanket and take a big gulp of the jammy red before laying your head in Zemo’s lap while Bucky rests in the crook of his arm making himself small enough to fit and Helmut opens one of the many books from the den.

One of the things you’ve found out during your travels is that in preparation for his escape, Oeznik had been busy readying two crates full of the things the Baron would need; some things which were private and other small luxuries a man like Zemo can not live without, like these books. You’ve begged him to start Wuthering Heights. He doesn’t mind, Helmut is a tragic romantic at heart, it’s Bucky who seems a little doubtful at first but by the time Cathy’s ghost is begging to be let in through Heathcliff’s window, Bucky is silent and listening, completely lost in the story, or as your suspect, this beautiful telling of it. You’re just glad he’s able to experience the delight that is Helmut's voice all soft and calm as he brings the story to life. Everyone should be so lucky…

When he’s gone through the first couple of chapters and you’re starting to fall asleep, he closes the book, kisses your head and rubs Bucky’s thigh suggesting that it’s time to go in.

The bed is a welcome change and while you’re all too tired for a wild session like what happened on the upper deck this morning (your knees still ache and you’re pretty sure Bucky would have marks from Helmut’s belt across his back if it weren’t for his healing abilities) you can sense something special starting.

It’s easy to forget on nights like this that anyone is submissive or dominant in your relationship. There is no edge to the way you touch one another, just love. Limbs intertwine, hands touch and rub and hold; only Bucky’s cool vibranium gives away his identity, otherwise there is a playful mystery in the dark that you all choose to let remain until you kiss a mouth and smile figuring out that it's Bucky because his lips are full and pillowy soft while the fingers that calmly stroke your wet center are Helmut’s because they move in his confident, graceful way. And you find yourself thinking of something you really haven’t before.

Experience. It’s something the three of you have so much of and in so many different ways that you nearly forget one of you is technically a virgin.

Hard to imagine the man kissing you, the man who has been inside of you so many times is new to this, well a form of this. The thought makes your heart flutter with excitement as you feel the deft fingers leave you and Helmut gets up from the bed.

He doesn’t go far and you wonder what it is he’s gotten.

When you feel the weight of him dip the mattress and much closer this time, you open your eyes curious but realize it’s a little too dark and Bucky’s face is too close to see. You pull back wanting to catch a glimpse of what you think is happening as the faint scent of bergamot tells you all you need to know.

Bucky raises up, not far, but enough that the moonlight shines on half his face letting you see how his brows knit close together. His gasp is light. He does not exhale. You can’t see past him but you know that Helmut has been slowly nudging him closer towards his first time and you have been watching this man be readied for a moment that just a few days ago he never would have imagined— or maybe he has? Honestly based on the way he grinds his ass against Zemo when the three of you are lost in all sorts of lovely situations, you’d say he’s imagined it a lot more than he’s letting on.

He exhales and they moan together as you pull him down into a deep kiss.

Is that one finger or two?

“Would you like to come inside of her?” Helmut asks softly as Bucky breathes through the feel.

He hovers over you, eyes shut tight, licking his lips before moaning softly again “Yes.” He manages to say, and you’re so wet you think Zemo could have saved the oil.

Permission must come through some physical contact because you hear nothing, just feel him at your entrance and then inside of you. You can’t help but to moan and arch your back, your stomach pressing against his, your nipples brushing against his warm chest groaning as you give into the familiar size of him, opening your mouth with a deep sigh as your heart races knowing he is taking you while being had.

Between breaths you catch a glimpse of Helmut beside him —right hand flat on the small of Bucky’s back the muscle of his left forearm flexing rhythmically— his face is stern with concentration but his eyes are soft. He does love to make you both feel good. For all his bluster and demanding, nothing ever makes him so happy as pleasing you and Bucky.

The fact that you start to come so quickly is no surprise but the fact that you start to come together makes you look at one another. You smiling through the quick breaths, Bucky’s furrowed brow a sign of his shock but absolute pleasure. It’s too much for him in the best way as he rocks his hips, slowly thrusting deep into your body that clings to him.

You shut your eyes, your gasp mixed with a laugh and a cry as you come.

Bucky lays over you, his face tucked into the safe corner of your neck, so soft and warm where he moans heavily, climaxing in a way he’s never experienced before. You put your arms around him holding him tight and the sound he makes is the sound of a man who has just discovered quite a few things about himself.

He raises up, breathing hard, stunned and happy as he kisses you.

That was incredible for you both and together you quickly look over Bucky’s shoulder at Zemo who sits gazing at your faces in the dark…

#zemo x you #bucky barnes x you #winterbaron #winterbaron x you #zemo fanfic #winterbaron fic #helmut zemo x reader #james bucky barnes x reader #helmut zemo/james buchanan barnes #boys who love boys who love girls #oh to be so loved #sammich #cozy #yacht life

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years ago

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PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 32

💖 first time reader click here 💖

Summary: Stephen Strange being a grown-up. Reader being a grown-up. Kind of. Revenge plot starts now - don't be like the mercenary, don't threaten reader's family. Avengers being good.. bros? Good found family idk. More smut + plot coming soon.

The silence hung awkwardly over us. Stephen wasn't the one to wax poetics, usually, and I wasn't in the mood to do anything but curl up somewhere warm, chug a bottle of liquor and fall asleep. Sleep is like death without the committment and after my little outburst, I inwardly prayed and begged for the ground to open up and swallow me whole. Instead, I was directed to sit and drink my tea by the sorcerer, who, by the way, was beginning to look like a kicked puppy.

It was starting to become unbearable. "I'm listening," I finally croaked out, shocked at how raspy my voice sounded. As if someone had forced me to choke on some nails - and I felt like it, too. My hands were shaking, all but spilling the hot tea onto them.

"Princess..." His mouth did the thing when he was worried, lips pursed, their corners upturned. "What we did was not... Right, you were drugged without your consent. I am sure Tony feels the same way."

My eyebrows rose, words bubbling up to the surface as I fought the urge to simply start calling Stephen some strong names. Had he been blind the whole time I flirted with him, had he not seen both me and Tony ogling him when we thought nobody could see? Every time I joked about the sexual tension between them - you know what they say, every joke has a little bit of truth in it.

Or maybe the sorcerer had used the incident as a convenient excuse for our little fuck-fest to be a one-time thing? I expected more, I won't lie, but I wouldn't put it above him. I knew all too well that some men tended to simply... Avoid.

I was angry, probably rightfully so, but it was not the time for me to comfort an adult man. My own life was going to shit, I had no mental energy to unburden his baseless guilt. It was selfish and it made me feel even more like shit, but it was as if someone had flipped a switch inside of me. I just didn't care about someone's heartbreak. I needed to solve another problem, a much bigger than a man that couldn't make up his mind.

I had to find that damn mercenary. It was the only real threat hanging over our heads; unlike any mission that I've seen the team go on before, they had thrown all the forces into catching the man that had gotten into their safe space, their home. That threatened to take what they thought as theirs. Long gone were the days of comfortable domesticity.

"Okay," I replied, nodding curtly. "I wanted it, if it helps any. I thought you were attractive the first day I saw you." I spoke bluntly, beginning to feel like myself more and more with each word that I spoke. "And again, no strings have to be attached. I'm sure Tony will understand it too, it's not his first rodeo."

Stephen's head shot up from where he was examining his clasped hands, to study me with furrowed brows. Cloaky moved where it was wrapped around me, attracting the sorcerer's attention - I, unfortunately, did not understand the Cloak's sign language and what it told Stephen remained a mystery to me. I was just delighted to be out of the cold and and wet clothes.

"I think you misunderstood me," Stephen eyed me with surprise. "I want more, but..." He trailed off, unsure. "I don't know. I'm surprised Banner hasn't gone green on me yet. I'm a doctor, I should have known..."

So, he was pulling a me and wallowing in pity. Is this really how pathetic I looked when I used to mope around the house earlier? No wonder my mother thinks I'm a baby. "Stephen, I'm really not in the mood to listen to bullshit. I wanted it, you wanted it, great, we can move on. Because with everything that has happened to me, I really have no energy to convince you I like you even while sober when you're sabotaging yourself." Sure, I might have ripped off the motivational speech from a self-help book my mother used to have laying around. My patience was wearing thinner with each second. "There, I said it. I like you, my boyfriends like you, you're welcome to the club if you decide to believe the fact that I am telling the truth." And if he wouldn't, well, I could get over it. I was planning to never act upon my feelings for both Tony and Bruce, it hadn't been as hard as I thought it would be. Especially with me being busy enough to just ignore the feelings.

At some point, I had grown attached to Stephen. Perhaps, if I and Tony hadn't decided to mess around with the sorcerer at the party, my feelings wouldn't have bloomed into anything more than physical attraction. Murphy's law had a particularly strong affinity on me, I noticed, because over and over I found myself falling head over heels for emotionally unavailable men. It worked out with Tony, which wasn't as surprising as one might expect, considering we're two halves of a whole idiot, but then Bruce also decided to pucker up - Stephen was bound to be the rock that I trip on.

Or not? Soft lips pressed against my forehead, beard hair softly tickling the tip of my nose. I was pressed against a solid chest, surrounded by warmth and comfort. "I'm sorry, I'm an idiot," Steph whispered, voice quivering.

"Well, it's not like this... Relationship... I've got going on is something commonplace," My arms wrapped around him, a deep sigh relaxing my body into his. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. It wasn't right."

Stephen chuckled, all but pulling me bodily into his lap. "Don't worry, Princess. I deserved it." As he spoke, the Cloak carefully unwrapped itself from me, drifting away with a parting pat on my back. "Now what happened with your parents?" Large palms pushed the hair out of my face, stormy blue eyes looking at me with worry.

"I should probably assemble all my significant others for this conversation," There was little enthusiasm in discussing the incident. I was an adult and had enough money to get by for a few months, at least until I could patent one of my inventions. I had plenty of knick-knacks that should be able to interest buyers, that much I knew, and while the legal side of the process was a blank slate to me, I knew I could be charismatic enough to have someone work it out for me.

"I don't think I'll be able to take Steve seriously when he says 'assemble', now," My third boyfriend chuckled, which - wow, I didn't have boyfriends and now I had three? Should I be considering opening a factory or something? Stephen adjusted his hold on me. "Let's go, I'll portal us in."

"My car's out there with all my stuff. I'll have to drive," I protested but made no move to get out of his lap.

"Tony is a billionaire, he can pay someone to retrieve it," Shrugging carelessly, he produced a golden circle of magic, the common room couch in plain sight at the other side of it. I heard voices and then Clint's head peaked through, a curiously tilted eyebrow morphing into full fledged face of confusion upon seeing the two of us.

Yikes. I had forgotten about the state of my dress and the bruise on my cheek. "Hey, bird. I need a drink," I said the first thing that popped into my mind, causing both Clint and Steph to laugh as the sorcerer carried me into the tower through the portal.

"I'm starting to think you go out there and look for trouble on purpose," The archer sighed, pulling out his phone and texting rapidly. Mine vibrated, too, once he was done, which meant he'd called for a family meeting. Blergh.

In no time, Tony appeared, dark circles under his eyes and yesterday's shirt on, towing a worried Bruce behind him. One after the other, the Avengers tickled in, looking restless and exhausted. Loki's frown was well on its way to becoming a full sneer.

"Talk, please," He requested, eyeing me with concern.

"Good news is I got our rogue wizard back," I poked Stephen in the chest. He was blushing. "Bad news is my mother threw me out and my father didn't pick up the phone, so technically I'm homeless and parent-less," I decided that spitting out straight facts was the easiest way to go about it. I mean, there was no good way to tell what I just told them.

The storm that I anticipated didn't appear. Just a lot of disappointed sighs all around, especially from Tony, who looked twenty years older after I'd confessed to the current state of my affairs. "You're not homeless, you live here," He pointed out, rubbing his face and muttering some very strong words under his nose. Particularly, the expressions involved my mother and various methods of fornication.

"We got your back, doll," Bucky nodded, coming over to wrap me in a gentle hug. He was like a brother from another mother to me at this point, kind and goofy and sensible. "I would propose to teaching that harpy a lesson but I think she's beyond it."

"Perhaps it's for the best," Loki mused suddenly. "If I recall correctly, your mother was against your career of choice, which is idiotic. Science is a noble and prospective path." The Asgardian, too, gave me a hug.

I wasn't crying! There were ninjas, in the vents, cutting onions! "Stop it guys, I'm gonna cry. I already look like shit!" The protest was silenced by Bruce's lips on mine, his tiny smile briefly covering my mouth with tenderness. After that, everybody somehow decided it was their job to try and make me cry; like a bad bitch, I resisted, but eventually broke and started sniffling when Tony began rambling about building me my own lab and Wanda offered to help me decorate my new apartment.

No matter how much my mind screamed at me to refuse, I forced that noise down. Fighting against myself, accepting help despite feeling unworthy of it - it was probably the hardest thing I've done in my whole life.

Bruce volunteered to carry my prone body to Tony's bedroom which was quickly becoming the master bedroom for the three of us - ever since the incident, both of my scientists stuck close to me whenever possible, aggressively cuddling me whenever they decided it was time to get some sleep. Which wasn't much these days, if I was being honest. Persuading Bruce to stay with me was a novelty - usually he didn't resist, but that time, I had to repeat myself multiple times that the team could handle business even without him being present.

I had my ulterior motives, of course. Tony and Stephen needed to talk. I only hoped their egos wouldn't clash without me to mediate - having two boyfriends start a fight wasn't something I wanted to experience. I had zero experience in those matters and had no idea how to manage all that. Are there handbooks for polyamorous relationships? I stuck a mental post-it note inside my brain to check it out.

I fell asleep with Bruce wrapped around me and woke up in the same position, having been too exhausted to move even in my sleep. Voices, rough and quiet, were the first thing I heard upon syncing my brain into a resemblance of a working order, instantly recognizing Stephen's deep baritone and Tony's teasing drawl.

"Expect either Reindeer Games or Kim Possible to come and terrify you," My engineer didn't sound particularly ecstatic. His voice came from somewhere around my feet; the hand wrapped around my ankle, thumb gently stroking the skin, must've been his.

"Duly noted," Stephen's reply was equally sarcastic, sounding a little closer. The warmth coming from my side was him. I could smell the faint spices that surrounded him, smell that I'd come to associate with the Sanctum.

Bruce snored away, not a care in the world.

My body, on the other hand, felt rested for what felt the first time in years. A pleasant ache in my muscles had me begrudgingly squirm out of Banner'd grasp, shamelessly pushing up into Stephen as I stretched with a juicy yawn. "What's poppin'?" I rubbed my eyes, finding the men awake looking at me with fond amusement.

"Just watching," Tony smiled, causing me to giggle at his accidental meme-ing. Was it even accidental? I refused to believe that a man well versed in IT was oblivious to meme culture.

Stephen, on the other hand... "We've discussed some things, wanted to talk to you too." His hand stroked my hair, face expression soft unlike anything I'd ever seen him have. "But you were sleeping. So cute."

Me, cute? There was a puddle of drool the size of a dollar bill on my pillow, I was pretty sure some of it had even gotten in Bruce's hair. Banner's sleep was quiet except for every five minutes when he'd let out a snore with a force somewhere between a Mack truck and a whale in mating season.

Cute, sure.

Bruce groaned, a tell-tale sign of him waking up. I met his eyes, brown, shiny, a narrow edge of green around his irises. Huh. Do I have three boyfriends or four?

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub @mostly-marvel-musings @vozit @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads @hermione-grangers-wife @individualistfem @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie @mikariell95 @gladiosamicitias

#party favours #bun writes #tony stark x y/n #bruce banner x y/n #stephen strange x y/n #tony stark x reader #bruce banner x reader #stephen strange x reader #tony stark x you #bruce banner x you #stephen strange x you

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spectrumed · 4 years ago

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4. body

Do I have body issues? Well... yeah. Who doesn’t? I absolutely do not like being fat, that’s something I’d change about me. And I probably should bulk up a little, go to the gym. My diet isn’t terrible, I don’t eat any fast food, but I could still always eat healthier. More greens, less beans. But most of all, my biggest body issue is that I don’t really associate myself with my body. My mind feels disconnected from my body. The day scientists invent a way for us all to live as brains in jars on wheels, I’m there standing in line for a chance to become all cerebral. Being physical, it’s just so messy, so awkward, so uncomfortable. You feel pain, you feel embarrassment, you feel horny. Nothing good comes from having a body. If you were just a brain, you could go on thinking and calculating and just generally having a good mental time. Or you’d start feeling suffocated and trapped trying to move your limbs and realising that they have been all chopped off. Hmm… Maybe it’s more complicated than I initially thought.

I don’t understand people who enjoy physical activities. Let it be clear before we delve into this long rant of mine complaining about all things gymnastic, this is not particularly an autistic trait. In fact, there are plenty of autistic people who may excel as athletes, their drive and obsessive personality traits becoming quite useful in developing that discipline that is required to fully commit to becoming an all-star jock. Not all autistic people are reprehensible nerds. Some autistic people are actually quite sexy. Some even have abs. But that’s not me. That’s not my clan of autistic people. I like drawing maps. I like thinking about things. I like making cocktails. The only part of my physical body that I like to put strain on is my liver. Don’t make me go on a run. There isn’t an armchair in this world that I wouldn’t want to sit down in, even the ones that used to be owned by old chain-smokers that have that awful aroma that sneaks into your nostrils and makes you worry about second-hand lung cancer. Sitting is great. I like sitting. Also lying down. Lying down is good.

Am I lazy? No, I don’t think so. Maybe a little, but here’s the thing. I can’t control the things I obsess over. There’s a great deal of overlap between autism spectrum disorder and attention deficit disorder. If you’re reading this and you’re a fellow friend on the spectrum, you may have gotten diagnosed with both. One of those rare times in my life I have attended group therapy, more than half the group were diagnosed with both. I, however, am not. But seeing as the two conditions are so intertwined, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that a facet of autism involves difficulties in trying to focus on something, or even trying not to focus on something too hard. If you were to judge my tenacity, my ability to keep going, based solely on how I perform during physical tasks, you’d think I was the least resolute person on the planet. But then you’ll find me, some time later, staying up until four in the morning drawing another map. A map that’s really just a different take on another map that I drew earlier, that itself was a reworked version of a previous map that I drew but didn’t like, that actually began as a second iteration of one map I drew that was actually wholly different, that was based on a map of Europe but if Denmark never existed. How many maps have you drawn Fred? Why don’t you go mind your own business, you nosy ferret.

The DSM-5 (the fifth edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. You can think of it as something akin to a bible of psychology, which is definitely an inflammatory way to refer to it, but I’m gonna go with it! Because I’m a wildcard, and that’s just how I roll,) includes this section as part of its diagnostic criteria for autism spectrum disorder.

Highly restricted, fixated interests that are abnormal in intensity or focus (e.g., strong attachment to or preoccupation with unusual objects, excessively circumscribed or perseverative interests).

Now, I personally don’t relate to that at all. There’s nothing abnormal in my intense love for maps. The fact that maps aren’t as widely cherished as they ought to be is a fault of others, and I refuse to acknowledge that this may be a part of my character that could be perceived as quirky, or out of the ordinary. But, still, for the sake of argument, let’s presume that I can get, at times, excessively circumscribed. I’d like to say that I’ve only ever engaged in excessive circumscribing in my privacy away from onlookers, but I am afraid that I may have allowed some of my excessive circumscribing to happen in public. I definitely do apologise for that. I will try to do better in the future. But you never know when you’re about to experience some excessive circumscribing. The best you can do is keep it limited.

I don’t know how neurotypicals work. So, you don’t feel these kinds of obsessions? These moments of intense focus? These fixations? Then, you lack passion? Are you heartless? Soulless? Or are you just weak? Are you too feeble to hold steadfast working on a project all night long? To lose touch with your sense of hunger, your need for sleep, and all contact with any other human person? My fixations may come across as strange, but to me, your lack of fixations come across as bizarre. The world is endlessly fascinating. Have you never felt that compulsion to just fully immerse yourself in a topic that allows you to forget about your physical body for just that moment in time? The body cannot hold me. I wish to absorb as much information as I can. If I could astral project, by gods, I would astral project. To decouple your consciousness from your mushy brain for just that little bit, to go soaring across the landscapes, to explore the cosmos, just free of all things corporeal, that would be swell. How terrible isn’t it, when you’re deep in research, learning all about the mystical religious practices of the long-dead hierophants of the ancient world, to be drawn back into the present by the sudden need to urinate? There is something so dreadfully mundane about possessing a human body. If only we could all be celestial beings allowed to just be without the biological needs associated with having flesh and blood and bone and bladders.

I am not religious, nor am I spiritual. I do not believe that there is an immaterial world that lies above the material. I do not believe there is an astral plane. I think that one of the terrifying things about living is knowing that we do not possess such a thing as an eternal soul, that all things are temporal, and that ultimately, we have to come to terms with that. It’s not so terrible. In some ways, the temporal nature of life can be its biggest blessing. All things must pass. Sure, that does include the good times, like that vacation you spent as a child wishing that it would never end. But it also includes the bad times. The heartbreak you feel from a failed relationship. The grief you feel after the passing of a parent. The depression some of us are burdened with. Some days are worse than others. But they too will pass. One of the remarkable things about the human body is its ability to bounce back from injury. To change and evolve in ways we sometimes find unthinkable. The brain, likewise, is transformational, capable of incredible developments. We’re not fixed in stone. We’re not eternal. Which is a good thing. It is what allows recuperation and progress. I should be thankful to my body for being there, even when I’m not. After all, isn’t your body your temple?

I am able-bodied. Am I disabled? There’s naturally a lot of questions that surround how we ought to understand mental illness or neurodiversity in regards to disability. Does autism spectrum disorder count as a disability? Well, yes, it can be considered a learning disability. It is certainly something of a handicap, you are experiencing struggles that most people don’t experience. But to your average layperson, your typical dullard who spends their time watching reality TV, drinking beer, and being happy, what counts as a disability to them? Would they see me and think I was disabled? I’m not in a wheelchair. I don’t walk with a cane. Though I will occasionally “stim,” make small repetitive moments with my hands or legs, I do not exhibit any kind of physical symptoms. If I told them that I was disabled, they’d scoff and tell me that I’m just making it up for attention. They’d say I’m probably just trying to mooch off the government, scoring welfare checks while doing nothing to contribute to society. I’ve got all my limbs. I am not sickly. I am actually quite strong, due to being a big and tall man, I am able to carry quite the load. So, I have no reason to not be a fully productive member of society, right? And yet, here I am, feeling at most times utterly perplexed by anything physical. Probably because I am just lazy, right?

I don’t think laziness is a thing. What is laziness supposed to actually be? Tiredness? If a person is perpetually tired, then they’ve likely got a sleep disorder. To call them lazy would be callous. There are plenty of overworked people that get called lazy, especially by tyrannical overseers who think of their charges as mere workhorses whose only purpose in life is to toil away in the factory until the day they die. Intolerable parents who see their terminally sullen child and instead of wondering what is making them so upset decide to deride them for their lack of ambition. Are you lazy when you are procrastinating? No you are just being a tad irresponsible, maybe, deciding to skip out on chores in order to play video games or masturbate. But you’re not just doing nothing. People generally don’t enjoy doing nothing. We need something to occupy ourselves, to fill that vacuum we all feel whenever we’re just sitting still. I am someone who appears to be comfortable just sitting still, but that’s because I’ve learned, since a very young age, to entertain myself with my own thoughts. To fantasise, to daydream, to do anything I can to escape from the void that is doing absolutely nothing. Boredom, that’s terrible. Boredom is existential dread. Of all the motivations that drive humans, love, spite, jealousy, or pride, I think the need to evade boredom is one of the most prevalent. Humans would rather experience electric shocks than sit alone in a room being bored.

I am not lazy, I am merely… excessively circumscribed. For as much as this may be a specific diagnostic criteria for autism spectrum disorder, I think it is also a common trait amongst all humans. There will always be within us a pull to do something other than the thing that we’re really supposed to be doing, that does not make us lazy, that just makes us terrified of boredom. Sure, you know that you’re supposed to mow the lawn, but that's just so dreadfully tedious, you just would rather be working on perfecting your new stand-up comedy routine. Thinking up jokes to tell on stage is so much more stimulating than cutting grass. And who cares if your lawn grows a little wild? Lawns are a scam, imposed by fascists to make us think grass in its natural state is ugly. All grass is beautiful, whether it is cut short or it is allowed to grow long. Do the thing that fulfils you. Allow yourself to become immersed in passion, to forget about those things that hold you back, the little silly things we’ve convinced ourselves is important. Stay up late, if you wish. You’re gonna kill it on open mic night, bud!

Yes, it is a problem when your obsessions grow so singular that you forget to feed yourself. When you forget personal hygiene, when you become trapped in your own apartment looking like some feral rodent caught in a cage. Like always, the key is moderation, and I know that from time to time, you may have to entertain a boring task or two. Clean your room, brush your teeth, trim your pubic hair, try to give an impression that you are taking care of yourself. If for anyone, do it for your mother. She will be happy seeing you looking like a civilised individual, wearing clean clothes and not looking malnourished. But don’t ever chastise yourself for being lazy. Laziness is a sin that we’re all guilty of, and if we’re all guilty of it, is it really a sin? Or is it just part of what it means to be a human? To be a messy creature made out of flesh and blood and bone and the occasional bladder. In the end, I’m more happy than displeased at having a body. It’d be much harder to type on a keyboard if I didn’t have fingers.

Still, I wish I wasn’t fat.

#neurodiversity #neurodivergent #autism spectrum disorder #autism #aspergers #mental health

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blubberingmess · 5 years ago

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Ready to comply [Android!Bucky x Fem!reader] chapter 2

*gif not mine*

Chapter summary: You're dizzy drunk last night, though you could vaguely remembered some of what happened. One of them is sticking one of your invention of that poor android's arm, deactivated it in the process.

It was early in the morning when you woke up with a massive headache, quickly taking the ibuprofen that's resting on your nightstand, although not remebring putting it there before sleeping.

Too tired to think about it, you took the medicine before making your way out of your bedroom.

"Good morning, (Y/n)."

"Son of a bitch! Who the hell are you?!" You screeched, placing a hand on your chest. Eyes still a bit blurry from sleep, you squinted them and saw an android standing still in the middle of your kitchen. Its hand behind its back, standing straight while staring blankly at you.

"Hello (Y/n), my name is... Bucky. Android B107 of CyberStark. Serial number; 103-678-3--" He began reciting his serial number all while scanning you from head to toe, although it looks like his checking you out.

[(Y/n);acquaintance]

[Scanning 'acquaintance'...] [Scanning complete]

[(Y/n);;; vital signs: 14% elevated ; "head"pain level>> 36%]

"Okay-okay! I remember now, fuck." You rubbed your temple while letting out an exasperated sigh. "Your making my headache worse."

["Head"pain level>> 40%]

"You asked me who I was, (Y/n)," Bucky points out matter-of-factly causing you to raise an eyebrow.

You scoffed, giving him a once over. "For an android, you sure are cocky. How long have you been standing there in my kitchen looking like a creep?"

"I've been standing here for approximately five hours, forty-three minutes and sixteen seconds."

You scrunched up your face before rolling your eyes, muttering a small "fucking creep" before making your way towards the stove to cook yourself some breakfast - surprise, surprise.

The android is completely unaffected by your words, turning his heels and started looking around your living area, scanning anything and everything like all androids would when positioned in a new environment.

Bucky is silent as a ghost as he walks around the living room and it slightly makes you uncomfortable knowing there is someone-- an android-- with you right this at moment inside your apartment yet not hearing anything.

It's like you're aware that there's a ghost beside you - it's just silent but it's there.

"So," you started, trying to fill in the silence. "What kind of android are you?" You're his owner right? Might as well get to know the android you've bought.

Bucky looks up from your plastic plant in the corner of the living room, eyes darting to the side to look at you. When he saw your back is faced towards him, he looks back down on the other plant -- this time, it's real-- beside the plastic one while answering your question.

"I'm a protector. My mission is to keep the humans safe."

The pancake you are cooking began to bubble on top and kept your eyes locked onto it as you questioned Bucky. "What? Like a bodyguard of some sort?"

Bucky turn his attention to the coffee table, analyzing the contents scattered on top of it. There's an empty pizza box and a half full uncapped bottle of coke, a bag of empty chips and a few used tissues with grease all over them; obviously from the pizzas and chips.

"You could say that."

His answer slightly surprised you, turning your cheek at him but not looking as your eyes focused on the tiled floor. "What?"

"I am programmed with skills most androids don't have. I am not like the DX line model for my biocomponents are much more advanced and my body can withstand most bullets and harsh climates," he explained whilst gently grabbing a picture frame.

It's a picture of a teenage girl holding the hand of another girl that looks exactly like you; much more younger and small, both smiling brightly at the camera.

[Scanning picture]

[Niki (L/n); age: 38 ;; year of birth: 3014 occupation: model at 'south of CSCV', and also known as Serpent]

[History: Adoptive daughter of (M/n) and (F/n) (L/n).]

"What kind of bullet is the most critical yet you can still handle?" Bucky heard you asked from the kitchen as the words and numbers cleared out in his vision.

".700 Nitro bullets." He answered, placing the frame back exactly where it belongs, like it never been moved in the first place. Bright blue eyes scanning the new information that appears in front that only he could see. His LED flickering from blue to orange then back.

[Searching >> (M/n) (L/n) and (F/n) (L/n)]

[Searching complete]

[(M/n); deceased, (F/n); missing ;; two daughters>> Nicki (L/n) and (Y/n) (L/n)]

"You're kidding me, right?" You flipped the second pancake before turning your whole body around to face your android, crossing your arms over your chest.

[New information found regarding (Y/n);acquaintance >> surname: (L/n)]

Bucky simply stares back at you with his usual blank, calculating eyes. "I am not," he replied.

"And CyberStark is planning on selling androids like you to the public?" That's downright stupid and dangerous. If an android like him gets into the wrong hands, who knows what could happened.

"It seems so." Bucky must've finished scanning your whole entire living room as he just stands there in the middle of the room. His arms behind his back and his posture straight as ever, awaiting to assist you if needed.

He doesn't really have to do that. You don't own him, he just followed you out of the store for reasons unknown to him. You're just the person who bought it... by force, too caught up on being drunk to actually know-- remeber-- what you've done.

You whistled, turning your attention back at your pancake. Not to your surprise, it's slightly burnt.

"Anything else I need to know about your model?"

Bucky answered without any hesitation. "As a prototype, CyberStark built me with two thirium pumps and if the public and the government ever approve with my model, CyberStark will change the design to the usual one thirium pump paper android like the normal android design." A pause. "I am also programmed to be able to engage on sexual intercourse."

"Fucking hell, a personal bodyguard and also a sex android? That's what I call 'safe and satisfied'," you smirked, picking up your plate of pancakes and began making your way to the living room.

You really have to try that later

You plopped down on your couch and started stuffing your face with your maple syrup drenched pancakes. It's not the best but you could care less.

Bucky's eyes follows you, not noticing the small click that sounded like a camera the moment he blinked his eyes.

"How much did I paid for you? A million?" You laughed. "My sister would be pissed!"

Bucky watched as you stuff your face with the greasy looking pancakes, contemplating if he should tell the truth about you not actually paying for anything-- basically stealing him from the shop-- or not.

"Wait, you said you're a prototype." You slowly chewed on your food, lifting up your head to look at him with a horrified look plastered on your face as the realization sets in.

"Oh shit. You're the prototype.... Oh, fuck, please tell me I'm wrong."

You're dizzy drunk last night, though you could vaguely remembered some of what happened. One of them is sticking one of your invention of that poor android's arm, deactivated it in the process.

Poor android, only doing it's job.

"You are correct." Bucky nodded his head before asking politely, "Is there something wrong?"

You were about to retort when a sound of loud knocking cuts you off before you can even open your mouth, making the two of you snaps your heads towards the door.

You cursed under your breath and moved your plate on top of the pizza box considering there's no more room to place it in the coffee table, and cautiously made your way to the door.

Glancing at the small screen attached to your door, you saw two men wearing suits and ties with matching sunglasses. One of them knocked a few more times before stepping back, both looking up where the small camera is placed, waiting patiently.

Bucky immediately goes and stood behind you, hands to his side and chest puffs out as he waits for your next move or his built in instinct, really.

Opening the door where only half of your face could be seen from the outside, you greeted the two men in suits. More like snapped a harsh, "What?"

Fuck being polite, they look sketchy as hell.

"We just wanted to ask you if you have a B107 android inside?" The bald one asked, his tone monotonous and gruff.

It took you all the willpower to keep your eyes at the two, silently hoping they wouldn't see the tall android behind you.

"Never heard about that model before. New?" You casually asked, resuming your act of innocence.

"Can we look inside?" The other man asked, ignoring your question. If it weren't for the lack of LED on their temples, you would've thought they were androids.

Unless they removed it, but you doubt they would do such thing. Only deviants have the 'guts' to physical remove their LEDs, which considered as a symbol of enslavement.

The revolution between humans and androids happened decades ago, androids are set free and finally have their own rights. Some became deviants, but some stayed the same; stone-faced, unsentimental machines.

But the two men in front of you, they look like they work for someone and you are certain it's not for CyberStark. You instantly knew because they don't have those shiny CyberStark logo pins.

"Why? I just told you, I never heard about a B107 before."

"Let us inside or we let ourselves in by force."

This is the moment you knew that they knew what you've done, that you have the android they are looking for.

"Fuck you," you growled before slamming the door shut, emergency locking it.

You quickly took Bucky's hand and sprint inside your bedroom, also locking it behind you. You grab your backpack from the hook behind your door and run towards your desk where your laptop, small gadgets, and inventions are messily set, shoving all of them as fast as you can.

The android analyzed your frantic movement, on guard as he quickly noted that the two men from outside are a threat.

"Bucky, let's go!"

"Where are we going, (Y/n)?" He calmly asked, tilting his head to the side.

You opened the window and slipped a leg out, glaring harshly at the android. "I don't know, but hopefully not in jail."

You both heard the front door slammed open and two sets of heavy footsteps sprinting towards your room.

Your heart jumps in fright and screamed at the android who is still calmly standing inside your room. Is he serious? Did you just bought a defective prototype of an android?!

"Come on you fucking scrap meta--" Your breath hitched when you saw one of his eyes quickly turned bright orange.

Bang!

🎧 Bang! bang! Into the room, I know you want it 🎶

#bucky barnes #Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes x reader fluff #Bucky Barnes x reader smut #android!bucky barnes #android!bucky barnes x reader #android!bucky barnes smut #android!bucky barnes fluff #bucky #bucky x reader #bucky x reader fluff #bucky x reader smut #android!bucky #android!bucky x reader #james buchanan barnes #avengers x reader #bucky x chubby!reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fic

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mclegibilist · 4 years ago

Text

Typification Enforces Anti-Inductivity in the Game of Authenticity

Epistemic Status: Broad strokes of common gameplay.

Why is being authentic "hard"? Why is it something you have to try at?

Personally, I believe that being "authentic" is fundamentally a matter of being understood. I've seen people twist themselves into knots about how if you were a true Scotsman then you would just be able to be yourself, but I can't really see how we'd have much acquaintance with such people: eventually their notions of authenticity would butt-up against some societal norm and they would be pushed out. Most of the arguments I've heard against this seem to implicitly rely on an unawakened power of unparalleled proportions that being authentic gives you. I think this confuses authenticity and self-knowledge, and most people who we encounter with good self-knowledge are pragmatic enough to (a) know how to talk to other people in their native emotional language (b) never, ever say that they're always manipulating and restructuring their messages in order to get the most significant bits across and risk seeming inauthentic.

A lot of people who struggle with finding their authentic self tend to reach for intrinsic explanations for why authenticity is a hard problem, usually along the lines of "You've become estranged from yourself while trying to please other people, so you need to rediscover who you really are." As @in-stenography has pointed out before, we should be a bit skeptical about what it is we're discovering, and if we have any method of distinguishing between discovering and inventing.

So, take on my premise for a moment or stop reading here: authenticity is mostly invented personae, meant to incept elements of one's own self-image in the minds of others.

Why is that a hard problem?

Don't worry, I won't go full Robin Hanson on you, it's obvious why this is hard! There's no easy way to enforce honest signaling for lots of attributes people want to lay claim to like "honest" or "sexually experienced", "punctual" is a bit easier and consequently feels trivial.

Yet, we do traverse social landscapes and I would argue, on average, we do so very effectively. The average person in my broad social circles can almost immediately get across a persona, that may later come into question, but which is usually supported by initial markers or surrogates for the kinds of things we actually care about.

Sometimes, though, someone manages to feel "fresh" without (looking like they're) trying too hard. They, through pure interaction, describe a character they are that doesn't make you bucket them immediately. You get to know them, and you're amazed to find that they are, at least partially, who they say they are and begin the true exploration of friendship and actually getting to know each other.

Why can't everyone do this?

The answer is in "typification", terminology that @spilledreality introduced me to, which originates from Alfred Schütz, the philosopher and social phenomenologist. I will not use this term exactly as he did; I believe it is a basic pillar of knowledge logistics that we must make our references nods, but rely only on our presented definitions. Call this "portable foundations"—I don't want to rely on experts' interpretations of other people's definitions, I want to rely on what I can explain to you in our shared context.

Typification, as I define it, is an inherent property of cognition and expressible knowledge, basically that definitions are inherently categories. The best way to understand is to take literally any statement and see why it relies on typification, so I just took a random sentence from a random CNN article:

A North Port Police spokesperson declined to comment on the report.

What is "North Port Police"? It's a kind of bureaucratic body, we assume has certain properties because of the other similar bodies we are familiar with. We can go look it up, and we'll understand it as an entity of certain overlapping types: an employer, an arm of the executive branch, etc.

What does it mean to "comment on"—we can understand that there is some kind of message indicated by this action, but it goes much deeper. When people "comment" on things they generally have something to say about its fitness, or about some salient property that's meaningful to a the present crowd. And because the subject is a government body, that crowd is assumed to be the public.

All of this information is transferred by our understanding of "types of things"—types of entities, types of actions, types of properties. Maybe this seems obvious, but consider the opposite: what if we had some basic properties and we could mix them in any proportion like a color palette? Certainly we think some parts of the universe are like this, e.g. physical color. Yet we tend to refer to colors by types, e.g., red, yellow, mauve, maroon, etc. We tend to understand things through types, and language's focus on reusable categories is both a cause and a byproduct of this fact.

When person A discovers a way to present themselves authentically, every person who sees a little bit of themselves in the expression A managed to thread through the gravitational fields of the present-at-hand types will immediately engage in the most natural human process: memetic analysis for mimetic execution. By picking apart A's presentation of themselves, different people will carve out different collections of behavior and aspects of A's self-presentation and retool them to explain themselves. This is the origin of memes.

When B, C, D, and all the way to Z do this, a wave will ripple through the local social ecosystem that causes new types to arrive, likely centering around the most easy-to-understand elements of A's new style which many of the new behavioral memes will have in common. When that happens, A's presentation will either seem less fresh, if these spin-offs capture much of A's implicit message...or will seem fresh in a ghostly and subtle way because they failed to capture it.

Eitherway, the interplay, driven by human mimesis and memetic networks, will eventually cause A's original expression lines to go stale. It doesn't go stale because it's wrong, it might be that no one ever successfully replicates A's style. But it will still go stale because the message gets distorted by the change in the communication protocol that the gravitational pull of new types causes. The expressive range may remain unchanged, but saying the same thing will require different words. And just as often, old messages become impossible to express, often due to unshakeable connotations parasitic on some original meme.

This is nothing more than anti-inductivity: authenticity is a game where (i) you reveal your strategy by playing and (ii) others can use this information for themselves, in a way that actively competes with your goals. Just because your goal was "to express yourself" doesn't mean you weren't competing with other people. Quite the opposite: your unique idea has to fight to convince people it's meaningfully unique, and the kicker is it often isn't unique as much as you want it to be, but you've still got to express positivity towards your product along the axes people understand.

Every time a new type of guy drops, someone loses their current medium for expressing themself authentically.

#anti-inductivity #authenticity #type of guy

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