#anyway yeah the truth is pretty horrific | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

crystalelemental · 1 year

Photo

Common Grid War, Act 15. The penultimate session. Next month will be the final run of common grids, with...maybe just Lorelei. She is the only gacha common without a grid. I...am a little offended. Anyway.

The new additions are Roark, Shauntal, and Maylene. If you can’t tell, I have a very, very high estimation of this batch.

To go over structure:

S: Units that go far above and beyond, to being near-staples in various game modes.

A: Highly valuable utility, or highly self-sufficient offense.

B: Good utility that’s a bit more stage-specific, or offense that can be great but definitely needs buffing support to get there.

C: More niche utility, or offense that tends to be lacking.

D: Generally poor performance, in which critical flaws impede what could be otherwise interesting niches.

F: Borderline unusable.

Placement Changes

Kahili A -> S. I’m going over these first to establish something for the new additions. I’m putting the super strong Follow-Through sync nukers up here. Kahili deserves this. She has consistently proven herself capable of handling CS stages, and even managed to beat Regirock. Not a joke. Spring Burgh (1/5) and Omastar were enough for her to win. If that’s not S-tier, I don’t know what is. Her DPS is still wildly below what you want, but her tools are stupid good.

Brawly B -> A. Brawly is a really, really good utility bot in Gauntlet, and managed to prove himself recently in CS as well, against the dreaded Fighting-weak Karen. God I hate that fight. Evasion is garbage. I really like the Potion for Gauntlet, and the debuffs can swing a CS match more than I expected.

Ramos B -> A. As I become more familiar with sleep chaining, they gain more and more rank in my book. Ramos is officially an A-rank. Turns out, Latias is also sleep weak. This is the best thing I’ve ever seen.

Drake C -> B. While I still have plenty of issues with Drake, the combination of good paralysis rate and Team Sharp Entry actually does salvage a lot. Yes, I admit, it’s maybe unfair to say he’s secretly great when his partner is often SS Serena. But listen. It works out alright. I just wish his gauges weren’t so bad.

Wikstrom A -> B. Wikstrom is still good, but primarily against Regirock. Gauge control is a huge issue with Iron Head, and despite Vigilance, he’s frail enough that Regirock can still one-shot. I like the guy, but his issues are pretty apparent when you try easing up on what support he needs.

New Arrivals

Roark to S. Just like Kahili. Follow-through on a sync nuke that includes Haymaker and Double Down 5 feels not just appropriate, but correct. If Kahili gets this designation, so should Roark. The funny thing is, Roark might be better. My development into singing Kahili’s praises has been eventful, but Roark stands to be better than her, because Roark can forego that sync nuke, and instead take insanely strong Rock-type DPS in Head Smash, backed by Standfast 7/5, First Aid, and gradual healing for his 1000+ HP pool. I’ll test to confirm, but Roark right now is looking insanely good.

Shauntal to A. Shauntal may not be far behind, truth be told. I’ll really have to see what her DPS does, but +80% move damage is outrageous, and...yeah okay, she’s here because she’s reliant on a special attack/crit buffer and that’s never good. You can theoretically ease that with Critical Eye on her trainer move, but that’s a high energy cost and you lose a lot of tools in exchange. What keeps her out of B, however, is a whopping 60% rate of debuffing special defense, and being able to actually use her trainer move means she’s great for gauge control, and can potentially evade tank later in CS stages or at critical moments in Gauntlet. I’m not sold on S tier, but I definitely think she’s Bruno-esque in her power, without the horrific accuracy issues, and some pretty unique utility.

Maylene to A. I’m not even sure I agree with this placement, but I’ll keep her here on the assumption that many of her failed attempts in Gauntlet will be salvaged by the specific tools she got. Precision Pals really improves her utility for Bruno, Pep Rally is fantastic gauge control, and the MPRs to cap offensive stats are a godsend. But she still seems frail, debuffs slowly, can’t recover well, and has no Endure effect. I can’t say I’m altogether impressed with Maylene as a unit right now, but the potential to really take off with this grid is there, and this has been a good month overall so I’m feeling generous.

Fun Notes

Wulfric is now above Thorton. While Wulfric is not strictly good, his combination of flinch and freeze rates can make some interesting stall tactics that are pretty unique to him. Specifically, Uxie and Regirock become immune to flinch at critical times. Wulfric can also freeze them to get another delay going. It’s rare enough to not be anything beyond D-tier, but it’s at least better than Thorton, who had a lot more trouble with those same stages.

While I can’t justify moving him out of C-tier due to his difficulties in most things, Tate is top of the tier entirely because of Zinfogel’s showcase of his DPS. 13k on Rock Tomb is the most insane thing I’ve seen in my life. I realize it’s with outrageous levels of support, but still.

#pokemon masters #common grid war #common grid war act 15

4 notes · View notes

bloodpraxis · 2 days

Note

hi tumblr recommended me your most recent art and i know nothing about what's going on but i am so so intrigued what is happening to him. is he okay. how do i get into this media

Hi! I assume you're referring to this post? The character is Dinin Do'Urden from R. A. Salvatore's "The Legend of Drizzt" series. The things that happened to him took place in the most recently released book called "Lolth's Warrior".

Thanks for asking after Dinin, he's barely got anyone looking out for him. Anyway, he's okay-ish now, fortunately, but not without some loss of [redacted] and mental scars, and some sort of impending doom suggested in his future.

Spoilers ahead, if you want to know the specifics™. It's a bit long. I'll mark it with Spoiler Starts, Major Spoiler Starts and Spoiler Ends & Major Spoiler Ends.

Spoiler Start

Dinin is the older brother of the titular character (Drizzt). He's done evil things, like killing his eldest brother to become the Elderboy of house Do'Urden, and so was painted as the average treacherous and ambitious Menzoberranzan drow noble. In reality, most of the things that he's done usually ties to his survival.

He was cursed and turned into an abomination - a drider all the way back in "The Legacy" (1992) by their sister Vierna, who was trying to regain favour from the Spider Queen - Lolth. He was killed in the same book and damned to suffer servitude under the Spider Queen in the Abyss ever since, until "Relentless" (2020), where his and many of those who had the same curse was lifted.

Major Spoiler Starts

When he was brought back, he hid his identity and used a fake name because he feared his name - the association with his brother would bring him much trouble.

Unfortunately, he's a silly guy whose mouth runs faster than his brains, no matter how hard he tries to be calculative. And so, his fake name is only two vowels longer than his actual name.

Long story short, a trusted comrade of his found out the truth, and when she got captured by the Spider Queen worshipping horde and at risk of being turned into a drider again (a horrific and painful process), betrayed this information in exchange for her escape.

^ an excerpt describing the horrific Curse of Abomination that turns drow into driders.

He then got captured and tortured for many rounds. The jar of finger and toes? Yeah that's his. But that's not the worst part of it.

The servants of the Spider Queen used the oldest trick in the book - fear - his fear of being turned back into a drider to force him to do their bidding. He will have to form trust then betray his brother in the worst way possible. He hasn't done it yet, but nothing good will came of it once he does.

Major Spoiler Ends

Dinin hardly got anyone to look out for him. His favourite sister ended up turning him into an abomination, his teacher (the father figure to him in my opinion) who he looked up to, distrusts him and doesn't give him any sort of recognition or time of the day. He's a soggy wet man scrambling to survive using any means possible (the evil ones) in a world full of uncertainty.

It's not all doom and gloom for Dinin though, he's a great fighter, bagged two hulking tall ancient drow women and is unironically funny sometimes.

^ Dinin "No one has called me handsome the last 200ish years so I might as well call it myself" Do'Urden.

Spoiler Ends

So far he's appeared in the first few books of the series (before disappearing in "The Legacy"), and most recently appeared in the Generation trilogy (Boundless (flashbacks when he was young), Relentless (actually back)) and Way of the Drow trilogy (Glacier's Edge (2022) & Lolth's Warrior (2023)).

The series got quite a lot of books and it could be a bit intimidating. There is a reading order guide on Reddit which is pretty helpful. You could choose from printed books, ebooks or audiobooks to enjoy this series. The first few book were also made into comics, if you prefer the medium. Some details were left out in the comic version, the character design of some female characters are questionable (product of its time, the early 2000s), but the main plot is there and served alright.

Screenshots from the comic. Duality of a man. Evil vs Soggy.

I hope this isn't too lengthy, oops! And hopefully answered your question!

#asks

0 notes

leophiee · 2 months

Text

BIG trigger warning on mental illness and thoughts of suicide.

//alternative title: I broke down crying at my psychiatrist appointment yesterday, and now I feel like absolute shit.

Please don't read this, really, just in case some poor soul out there sees this post, I just want to scream at the void;

So please, just scroll away, this is not meant to be read or seen by anyone, and no gain is to be made from it.

So, yeah, Friday was rough for me. It is the end of the third week of my first semester studying, so I expected to be tired, and that was fine. The psych appointment was quite convenient too, as I didn't have any lectures that day. When I got out of the bus after the quite lengthy ride through town, I thought that it would be just the usual, tell her that I am fine, just a little tired, and maybe not quite at the performance level I like to be at, but nothing serious; get my prescriptions and head out. And as I always do when my mental illness gets worse, that is how I started the conversation in her office. I know that that is probably a bad habit in the long run, but for the moment I still am too afraid of getting locked up or of having my medications held hostage for my thoughts of killing myself.

And to be honest, I hate that fact. I resent any and every mental health professional; my experiences while in psychiatric 'care', especially the ones that I made during my multitude of lengthy hospitalization in my teens; they were just too bad. I can never forget how cruelly and thoughtlessly my safety and dignity was played with, in the worst moments I even wondered if my shame and despair brought a sense of sadistic joy for them. And of course after a few years have passed, I know am pretty sure that it was probably just an indifference towards my feelings, paired with utter careless and unscientific work practices that are still the norm in mental health wards everywhere.

But I don't care. I never want to experience any such things again. I never want to be stripped of all freedom and dignity; all the while they tell me how whatever horrific nonsense they come up with is 'in my best interest'. I swore at age sixteen after my last visit to the clinic: never again. And if I die as a result of it: NEVER again. Even in my more cool headed moments I come to that conclusion now. My freedom and sense of self is too important for that.

Of course, that means that I am permanently locked out of any proper mental healthcare; as I still struggle with suicidal Ideation daily, and at least once a week it goes further than that. I commute by train to Uni, and I don't even know how often I had to exercise all the self control I could muster to not just jump off the platform. If it weren't for the person in the vehicle, I would have done it, and I hate that I haven't. The sinking feeling of disappointed despair after the front of the train has passed, every time I feel robbed. If only I listened to the part of me that wants me to do it, my consciousness would permanently ended already. What a beautiful thought. I hope that it is not long anymore before I can finally find a good pretext for my mother.

I think she would probably the only person to really miss me. My siblings don't care much for me, sure they would be sad, but they'll manage without me just fine. My father probably wouldn't even notice for over a year, and my grandma is pushing on eighty years, and I was never her favorite grandchild anyways. I don't really have any friends anymore, only one really. Not that the others ever actually were friends of mine, as their commitment towards me couldn't even withstand a single relatively minor conflict, but I like to delude myself. The last person close to me is really just keeping me around because they believe that I have to be supported for political reasons (and pity perhaps - hate that idea, though it might actually be closer to the truth). At this point, I know that I can't actually be loved. My mother only does so out of instinct, and because she is so isolated that she doesn't really have anyone else to vent, or even just talk to. I hope that she can find a better life after my passing. My endless self pity and autistic infodumping exhaust her already more than would be otherwise socially acceptable, but she is my mother, so everyone (including her) believes that she has to love me, weather she likes it or not. What a terrible fate for any kind person to suffer, and especially for her, without me she would have done so much more good already - arrgh.

I hate the thought that she'll eventually figure out that I'm queer. The lastest point at which that is going to become obvious if when some poor soul has to clean up my room. They'll find the hormones I have been taking without supervision, or some of the clothes that I wear in secret, maybe even my online history will give rise to that. Though, the changes on my body will be apparent to the medical examiner before any of that happens. Here in Germany (and most countries in the world have similar rules), an autopsy is mandatory after an 'unnatural' death - and thus for all suicides aswell. I wonder if they will tell anyone, or if the report would just state that my demise is self inflicted, and maybe also how I (finally) achieved it. I actually don't know, huh.

But anyways, I was getting of course. What I wanted to express is just how gross I must look to an outsider when my queerness comes out, or even to the ones closest to me that don't know (which is most of them). And yes, I know it is pathetic to not just bite the bullet and come out the normal way, but I just don't have the strength to do it anymore. My ability to control my own life has been lost long ago, as I focus all my energy on maintaining the semblance of normalcy; mainly to the people around me, but also to some degree, to myself. Sure, everybody knows that I'm mentally ill, that is obvious, as is that I'm some sort of queer, but what I am able to hide is the extend of those unfortunate parts of myself. Nobody knows how serious my suicidality has become, or how isolated I really am.

On that point; It is quite convenient how my mother still doesn't know that I don't actually have any friends, and how my last remaining contact outside of family isn't aware of how mentally distant from my family I feel. The loneliness by itself is so overwhelming, it is almost certainly the thing that will push me over the edge quite soon. God, how much I would give for time pass faster until that point. At least I know that I am ready, my chosen method is fully prepared, my medications held back enough; the only missing component is finding an excuse at this stage.

To be fair, I am holding my facade of a normal life pretty well outside of the incident yesterday. And even with that, my psychiatrist has no reason to send me to a clinic straight away, so if I play it safe it's probably going to turn out fine, but still, the fear lingers. My mom went to get me new glasses today, too bad that the money is a waste, but I could hardly say no, the whole thing was pretty spontaneous, as my current glasses needed to get fixed by an optician unexpectedly; And when we stood in there today, she figured that I could get my eyes checked and a new pair right away, so that's what I went along with. Sigh.

I still don't know why I couldn't hold it in on Friday. Like, I was always able to fight back the tears before she noticed, but this time, no luck. Stupid. It's always when I least expect it, I wasn't mentally prepared that I was going to be that emotional, and thus fought back too late. And with the people, they make you cry even more, even if you don't want 'em to. They have studied to manipulate patients in that way, and it is not like human psychology doesn't work, it clearly does, so that is what happened. And still, I loathe my own stupidity. I fought so hard to hold it in, or to at least limit the harm, but with these horrid people, no chance.

Honestly, that's the part I look forward to the most, not even being spared from having thoughts, but just that I wont have to deal with any of these 'mental health' professionals anymore. And yes, I know that they have genuine use in society, and I see how many of the people around me could use some of their advice. For me though, I just resent the fact that they don't want me to do with my life and body what I want. They don't want me to take hormones, even if they are the first thing to help my general mental state in over a decade, and they don't want me to take benzos that much, even if they are the only thing that has so far helped control my fears, and then they really really really don't want me to end it all; beyond any sense or reason they want that. At times I wonder if it is just for their own feelings, so they don't have to feel bad about my inevitable fate. I don't know, maybe it is just the ridiculous doctrine they are taught, that would make just as much sense.

God, this pathetic display of self pity is the lowest I have fallen in quite some time. Shit.

Even when I visited my last remaining friend a few weeks ago, I was crying for at least an hour every day, in her absence of course, but the crying was actually not that much of a low point, at least compared to this utter catastrophe. At least this is never going to be read by anyone actually. phew

#suicide #tw suicide #tw #trigger warning suicide #tw mental health #tw mental illness #tw: suicide #cw suicide #cw: suicide #tw suicidal ideation #tw: suicidal ideation #tw sui ideation #tw: sui ideation

0 notes

justanechoflower-ddlc · 3 months

Text

(I hadn’t worked out whether or not Natsuki and Yuri existed during the time before Sayori brought everything back, but now that you asked, I decided to look really carefully at what little was implied at the ending. Monika’s letter at the end implied the club is gone, but that might just mean in that timeline Natsuki and Yuri were just… in a different club, or no club at all, not necessarily meaning there was nothing. But now that I’ve taken an even closer look at the final letter, I’m leaning on the idea that there was indeed a timeline there, where there just was no Literature Club. The club gave them a truth the world wasn’t meant to comprehend, and she couldn’t let her friends go through the same thing… that seems to suggest they still existed at that point in time. And if she didn’t want them to realize that truth, dropping them in a void of nothingness makes zero sense.)

(I could see Monika deleting them again at that point in time, under the impression they’d be better off that way than having to go through the same horrific process she did, but that doesn’t seem to be what happened, it seems she was able to just remove the club itself, the script, and the GUI that lets the player interact with the world, and keep everything else intact. Plus, everyone’s character files are still there if you were to check, so… yeah. Dan did, in his playthrough, mention what happened was that their only escape was to delete “everything”, but that can be interpreted to mean “everything that caused this”, which would be the club itself. I will say Natsuki and Yuri aren’t aware of this alternate timeline now, though, because that timeline was now replaced by the one where there is a literature club, and Natsuki and Yuri aren’t aware of previous timelines. Not yet, anyway. But I’ll be incorporating this into the lore I’ve developed. Also, there’s now what looks like an error, since Monika mentioned in my previous post she was reluctant to bring “the game world” back. So… I’m just going to say that was metaphorical because the club is what the game was about, so removing the club was removing everything the game stood for. The “world” the game had created. Further questions on why she spoke so strangely like that I’m chalking up to the metanarrative of this being a blog world.)

(As for whether or not the characters need sleep, that’s an interesting question. It’s implied in-game they do, Sayori oversleeping is something that gets brought up in-game, but that was under the script. Sayori “got up on time” in Act 4, implying that need still existed despite the fact that she was club president at the time, but that could be to avoid getting MC suspicious. Similarly, Act 3 implies that in Monika’s room, time doesn’t really run there, which would probably pause any kind of time-based needs, which means it’s possible being in the void would have similar effects… but that could be because of just how completely broken the world was at that point, and not just because Monika’s room was out of bounds.)

(I’ll say for right now, we know for a fact Yuri and Natsuki can get tired and need rest. As for Monika and Sayori, that’s a mystery, but it’s pretty likely that if they hang out in any of the actual proper parts of game, they’d have those needs too. unless of course they edited their own files, it’s likely trivial to just change the values and all of a sudden now they’re full as if they just ate, but, well… Monika’s still (understandably though) afraid she’d mess things up if she started editing character files like that… even though she wouldn’t actually be changing the parts that make up actual character traits and the like, which was the actual problematic part (not to mention the disasters she’d trying to avoid were a result of her purposely making them WORSE. But look, when someone’s caused a whole lot of bad stuff and really regret it, they tend to avoid going anywhere NEAR that. Understandably so.) So for now, if they’re not in the void, they have that need. As for whether they need sleep and food while they ARE the void? That’s still an open question. Hopefully I can pin it down before that starts to become relevant… There’s still quite a bit of time before it actually becomes “night” anyway.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Makes sense! There are more places in the game outside of just the literature club room, and even then that's just a classroom so it has a double function. So when the litrature club wasn't there the girls were hypothetically actually taking classes. Even though the teachers don't actually excist but uhhhh let's just ignore that-

(Going into the code and changing hunger or sleep status could be useful depending on the person. For some people, sleep and food is nice, and for other people it's a bother. So depending on how Sayori and Monika feel about those necessities, it could influence if they hypothetically were changing their charact er file statuses. I don't think Sayori would change her hunger status because she actually likes to eat, but maybe sleep would be something because she wouldn't want to wake up late again or maybe avoid nightmares that may come with depression. Monika is more of a mystery for me, so I guess you're probably more qualified to say, but I think she'd rather be practical and may have used that ability in the past.

(On the other hand, now she likely doesn't want to tamper with anything on any level like you said. It makes sense too! In order to stop a bigger issue, you may want to cut off any smaller actions relating to it to prevent getting tempted to do more. Out of sight out of mind!)

#submission #ask flowey #doki doki literature club #undertale #crossover #ask undertale #mun #nat #text

1 note · View note

syrinq · 10 months

Text

another 'screaming about baldur's gate 3' post that i thought up at the ungodly hour of 4am, about how the game showcases various ways to deal with trauma/loss + makes you question the trustworthiness of folks, and i think bg3's done it pretty damn well so far

anyways spoilers + endlessly sobbing guy

so there's various instances of companions dealing with Pretty Horrific Shit(tm) to say the least, but it's also interesting how in the world there's bits and pieces about other characters and it explains "how they came to be"

take astarion as a 1st example because everyone's fucking having wet dreams about that guy on here. he's sketchy as fuck when you meet him, approves of cruelty and wonders about getting all that power for himself etc. etc. etc. BUT when you get to that cazador scene and it's all overwhelming and it's great and horrific and confusing and astarion's essentially lost after kicking out a major horrific part of his life- that's REAL. the pathetic agony wail after it's done but he's free and now he has to deal with his wrongdoings etc. etc. fucking. that's where it's at bitches

and then you find a funny little scroll on how cazador had essentially the same developments but couldn't 'break the cycle' obviously and that's ALSO interesting

moving onto karlach who i barely know shit about except involvement with zariel and gortash. i'm getting the idea so far that she was 'bargained for' thanks to gortash, but what's really interesting is that gortash spent a good chunk of time in raphael's house of hope as a kid (i believe at least- some guy there talks about beating the shit out of him for disobeying). and you think how different those 2 got out of it compared to astarion & cazador and you're sitting there like. damn wowzers

then you got lae'zel who's the 'grew up under a rock but didn't realise shit until now'. then you got shadowheart who's 'also grew up under a rock but didn't realise shit until now' flavour 2. then you got wyll who sacrificed parts of himself out of morality and duty for others, doesn't regret having helped them but he's in chains himself. then you also got gale who dealt with the loss of mystra by turning into a lonely ass hermit with one cat essentially

then you got that fucking whack ass bitch orin who murdered her mother at a mere 7 years old and holds her fucking corpse in a casket in her unholy shrine at bhaal's tribunal or whatever. yeah great, murder runs in the family and each generation gets worse from it! sheesh i wonder what that's all about!

AND THEN you have the old ass immortal ketheric whose whole idea of 'having power' gets to his damn head after his primary objective of 'keeping isobel alive/safe regardless of methods' is fulfilled

AND ANOTHER THEN you could even see it in the dream visitor's ways depending on how. this motherfucker seemingly keeps their word, right? but then you find out more and more information that was withheld 'until you discovered it' and then the truth was shared- at least the parts that were relevant, because outright sharing manipulation tactics doesn't happen until you, too, discover that. which is interesting, because you'd think as a mindflayer -zap- read other's minds and you don't have to worry at all about the entire 'trustworthy or not' fallacy.

BUT THE FUNNY THING IS, yapping on about mutual trust and then 'i hope you don't do sketchy stuff with that fuckin hammer'. the 'we can detect each other's thoughts so reading mine is useless' shit. the 'controlling the situation (so you don't have to worry about being backstabbed), but through ways that inevitably make you more untrustworthy' tactic- proving there's mistrust exactly between you/the party and the mindflayer, DESPITE having similar goals

and the question bg3 brings up a lot is, can you trust an individual despite the fact they seem 'bad' or 'sus' (HAHA AMONG US JOKE)? can you see past the deceptions and images and pedestals everyone's put up of their caretakers/gods/superiors/lovers/whatever?

because let's be real, anyone who's a fucking ass immediately gets -58302 trustworthy points realistically. but then you have astarion, who's an ass really, but follows his word and shares the truth (after he finds your party is safe to share such information with- and that's how all companions go about this)

my mp party is the most untrustworthy shit to outsiders because we love backstabbing 'villain-y' types and getting their ass, despite the fact we're doing it 'for the greater good'

because, yeah, gortash seems like an emo ass king and is part of the Villain Trio Party, but so far he's kept his damn word on not attacking if we just chill and hang in the city. my mp party is going to pull the ass move by backstabbing that pact and murdering him once we 'show we did the good deed by killing orin' or whatever. unless gortash does the stabbing first, but who knows in this weird ass city!

so in order to navigate these personalities and their pasts and all, one's got to separate the 'trustworthy?' question regardless of an individual being good/bad, aka getting to their goal with morally sound ways. which i think bg3 pulls off pretty damn well and honestly i haven't fucking seen 1) exploration of trauma/loss and its consequences, and 2) the many wonderings about whether someone's trustworthy, this much in any game ever before. applause noise standing ovation etc. for that

#sy.txt #anyway time to go die again in a pit

0 notes

memorantia · 2 years

Text

Yeah 😂👌💯

I dont know why im posting this here for God's sake I know this won't help, if anything it'll make things worse, but I have no sense of self. I hate myself, I constantly screw myself, I'm never going to know what love is like because I cant figure out how to be a fucking person. I have people in my life who care about me, but (pretty much) none of them can love me because I'm rotten hatefilled person who after being released from their own delusions of adequacy (the brief window of time where I display the few decent traits burried somewhere deep deep down) spirals into horseshit that most people just don't seem to display. I dont know whats wrong with me, I want to die but I'm too selfish to. I want so desperately to cling to life, to prove everyone looking at me and thinking about how worthless I am wrong, but I can't accept that no one cares. That this, like every other tear stained note whining about how I'm just ooooohhhh sooooo saddddd and missunderstoooood is just a plea for sanity falling on deaf ears. My own stupid fucking deaf ears. I can't escape my own horrific judgmental thoughts, I cant make a single decision without scrutinizing it endlessly. For instance, I'm doing that as I write this! I'm thinking about everyone who will see this, skim through it and think "oh that sucks get well soon", "god I dont have time for this", "who even is this", etc. And I'm thinking about the countless people who will never see this, who never think about me, who will never know I even exist. I want so badly to be more than a waste of space. Even most of my friends can barely put a finger on what is good about me. THATS BECAUSE THERES NOTHING TO PUT A FUCKING FINGER ON. Every decision I make is motivated by an invisible audience, unless you know me really fucking well, then you do get to see some honest choices of mine because I somehow have faith in myself with you. Hi, B, J, A. I love you all and I'm sorry if you see this neurotic escaped diary entry. Anyway, I have no good traits because I spend more time fantasizing about a world where I'm worth living than actually working on giving people a reason to care about me. Or accepting that people wont care about me even if I do all that, and that I need to care about myself so I have peace in just existing. But I dont even know what that's like. I can't picture just being, acting without performing. I don't want to be a character anymore, I'm so sick of the loneliness of disconnection and dishonesty. I just want to know what love and stability is like. I'm stuck in this stupid fucking chicken egg situation. Because I had a fucked up relationship with love from day one, I can't find myself worthy of love. Because I can't find myself worthy of love, I perpetuate that relationship. I just want to appreciate myself, and have that be enough. But because my own judgement is useless, even if I loved myself it wouldn't matter. But if I loved myself, wouldn't that judgement then have worth? I dont know and i cant picture a future where i do. It's easier to picture myself dead with a needle in my arm in the next four years than it is to picture myself content, moving on with life. And maybe that's how it's really meant to be. Maybe my efforts are in vain not because of self sabotage, but because God made me in a fit of creative silliness as a human embodiment of futility. Maybe I'm just an unknown cautionary tale to scare people with functioning brains out of destroying themselves. Or maybe I thought all that up because it's more entertaining than the truth of the matter. Who knows? Who cares? I sure as hell fucking do. Why else would i be posting this?

#fuck me i guess #im sorry if you read this #if not #who cares

1 note · View note

ask-hauyne-and-orion · 2 years

Note

favorite characters in both games? or favorite regional forms? (PULSEs, rifts, aevian forms?)

(Static covered the frame, muffled cracklings of varying volumes occasionally pouring from the footage. It eventually fades away, revealing both Orion and Hauyne huddled around the camera - both sporting looks of intense concentration as they fiddled with the malfunctioning contraption.)

“Is it working?” said Orion.

(Hauyne shot a glance at the computer.)

“Looks like it,” she replied with a nonchalant shrug. “Mic seems working fine too.”

“Oh, good,” Orion let a sigh in relief. “I seriously thought it needed replacing.”

(Hauyne rolls her eyes at that remark, but couldn’t stop herself from smiling in amusement.)

“Anyway, while you’re gone we got two asks,” he explained, turning around to look at his companion. “I answered the first one, but haven’t got to the second one. You up for it?”

“I guess,” she muttered. “Only for this one. I’m not replying to the one you already responded to.”

(Orion shrugged in response, saying nothing.)

“Alright, let’s see what the second one is about...” he trailed off, turning his attention to the message onto the screen. “Ah! This one is asking for our favourite ‘characters of the games’ and ‘regional forms’.”

(Hauyne perked up, intrigued.)

“Okay, this is a bit out of my depth here,” admitted Orion, sheepishly grinning at the camera’s direction. “I was sent to this world before the games are even released, so I can’t answer the first part from the perspective of a player - which is probably what you’re looking for. I can answer the second part, though.”

(They momentarily paused to gather his thoughts.)

“Truth be told, I’m... generally indifferent to them?” they continued. “The only Aevian form I know is the Aevian Mismagius line, so I can’t exactly say I have a favourite. The sentiment is pretty much the same for the PULSEs, but let’s be honest: it’s hard to like something or someone that tried to kill you. The worst of the lot has got to be Hypno and Mr. Mime; those two give me the creeps.”

(They shuddered as the memories of PULSE Mr. Mime puppeteering a mutilated corpse surfaced in their mind. Hauyne remained silent, only sending a sympathetic gaze his way. The image was already horrific enough as pixelated sprites on a screen; she couldn’t imagine just how much worse seeing it in person would be.)

“My turn,” she took over without a hitch. “As a player, some of my favourites included - but not limited to - Titania, Saphira, Shelly, Maria/Marianette, Tesla, Erin and Nim. Being sent here and getting to interact with them as people changed that real quick... I mean, do people even play favourites with their friends?”

“I can think of one person who did,” Orion said, recalling that... special request. “One of your friends - the white-haired one - told me to slap you for disappearing, for some reason.”

“White-haired...?”

(Hauyne stared at Orion blankly and in utter confusion. A minute passed, and realisation dawned upon her.)

“You mean the girl with short hair, wears a black ribbon in her hair?” she asked.

“Yeah, that’s her,” Orion replied with a nod.

“Erin...” she murmured under her breath, her voice too soft for Orion to hear. For some reason, the mic caught it perfectly well. “Is she really that worried?”

“Looks like it,” he said. “Your other friends, too, but she’s the most frantic out of the lot even if she tried to pretend otherwise.”

(Hauyne’s cheeks flushed crimson, though it’s hard to tell if it’s out of embarassment or remorse. Maybe even both, if the nervous fidgeting and the sudden fascination with the ground were any indication.)

“A-anyway,” she stammered, trying to divert the attention away from the previous topic. “My favourite Aevian regional form would be the Aevian Mareep line. I always make a point to include it in my team back in the real world, so it’s a pity that I couldn’t have one in my main roster since I already have Shiva.

“As for PULSE and Rifts... I’m in the same boat as Orion here; my feelings about them range from indifference to squicked out, mostly because of negative personal experiences. As a player, I only had hatred for them since they had always been major obstacles in my playthrough - some of them are even worse than the major boss battles of the games’ storyline. I especially hated Rift Gardevoir; she was a total pain in the ass until the very end.”

“There’s a Rift Gardevoir?” asked Orion, surprised.

Hauyne nodded. “Be glad that you don’t have to fight her.”

(Orion didn’t bother arguing with her. He didn’t even want to entertain the notion of fighting a PULSE Gardevoir. Being chased by a mind-controlled Gossip Gardevoir while having to dodge her black hole attacks in Victory Road was more than enough for him.)

“So that’s it, right?” she glanced at the camera, then at the monitor. “In that case, let’s end this here.”

(Orion nodded in agreement, moving to shut down the camera and mic. Before long, the frame is plunged into darkness... then silence.)

#askorion #askhauyne #pokemon reborn #pokemon rejuvenation #rp askblog #oc roleplay #reborn rp #rejuv rp

0 notes

borninacloud · 2 years

Text

The Way We Were (1/3) - Steve Harrington x fem!reader

summary: Y/N is shaken up from recent events and, despite a strained relationship, turns to Steve for comfort.

word count: 1.3k

warnings: s4 spoilers!, otherwise none I think?

a/n: This is the first fic I've ever posted publicly, so I'm mildly terrified and just hope it's not complete shit. I do have more parts lined up for it if anyone wants it. Let me know, any feedback is seriously appreciated!

The Way We Were [1] [2] [3]

Of all the things Y/N had witnessed in the last several years this had to have been one of, if not the, most disturbing.

Watching, utterly helpless, as Max hovered in mid air possessed, on the brink of a horrific and brutal death at the hands of Vecna.

The things they’d all seen before were awful enough, but somehow they had always found a way to fight back, or at least attempt to even if it wasn’t all that effective.

Not being able to help Max in any way, other than putting headphones on her and praying that the mighty Kate Bush would get through to her whilst the boys screamed her name over and over to no effect, that had truly shaken Y/N.

After Max had been saved, and as soon as they had all calmed down enough, everyone headed back to Nancy’s house, meeting back up with her and Robin who they couldn’t stop thanking for finally getting in to see Victor Cree and passing on the information about playing Max's favourite song.

If it wasn’t for that knowledge, for that one particular song, Max might well not be with them right now.

“I’m starting to think I should tell you my favourite song.”

Y/N was curled up on an armchair in the Wheeler’s basement, Steve sat on the floor in front of her propped up against it as he kept watch over Max, taking his shift just as they had all agreed on. They couldn’t risk Vecna possessing her again.

Steve’s head whipped up to her instantly, meeting Y/N’s eyes with a frown.

“You’re supposed to be getting some sleep.” He told her softly, trying not to wake any of the others who were currently curled up and fast asleep around the room.

Y/N ignored his comment, zoning out as she watched Max across the room. She had her headphones on, they’d created a looped tape of the song for her to keep on at all times, and was flicking through a magazine dispassionately.

“I can’t stop thinking of what would’ve happened if we didn’t know, if we didn’t have that cassette with us.”

“Hey, you can’t worry about that. We did and she’s safe now. Y/N, I promise we’ll all be fine." He reassured her, reaching up to squeeze her hand gently, "Well, as long as you haven’t seen any clocks, or had any headaches or nosebleeds lately.”

“Yeah.” She agreed distantly, still lost in the memory of Max’s shuddering, levitating body.

“Y-you haven’t, have you?” Steve tugged at her fingers lightly to get her attention and Y/N finally looked down to him, finding herself grounded as her fraught eyes met his own soft brown ones. They’d always seemed to have that calming effect on her.

“No, no. Just tired.” She forced a small chuckle in an attempt to lighten the mood and distract from the awful thoughts that plagued her mind.

If she was being completely truthful, Y/N did have an awful headache at that moment, but she was pretty sure that it was just the stress of the situation and lack of sleep. Besides, she hadn't had any nosebleeds and certainly hadn't been hallucinating clocks. It definitely wasn't worth worrying anyone over.

She smiled up at Steve reassuringly, and he returned the smile seeming pleased that she had at least started to try and relax. He ran his fingers over her knuckles in a soothing gesture, relishing the feel of her soft skin and the calm moment between them.

It had been a long time since they had been this close, both physically and emotionally. He missed it.

“Anyway, you don’t need to tell me, I know your favourite song.”

“You do?” Y/N looked genuinely surprised as he nodded certainly.

“Sure, it’s that one by Fleetwood Mac, right? The Chain?”

“Yeah. How do you know?” Her heart stirred at the revelation that Steve had thought it important enough to store away that little piece of information about her.

Maybe he just had a good memory for those sorts of things, but Y/N couldn’t help the tiny bit of hope that rose in her chest.

"I know we don't really talk any more, but we…” Steve struggled to find the words to describe their relationship. It had always been more than a standard friendship, they had toed the line of flirting too much for that, but had never actually acknowledged any romantic feelings out loud, “We were close, Y/N, of course I remember your favourite song."

His words hung between them, the first time that the subject of their friendship and falling out had been broached. Y/N broke their gaze, feeling uneasy. The last thing she wanted right now was to bring it all up again and risk another argument. Not when it felt like they were making progress.

Steve cleared his throat, breaking the tension and their hands, before continuing with a nervous laugh, "Although you've got me worried that you don't remember mine."

"Oh, easy." She looked back to him with a soft smile, "Tears for Fears, Everybody Wants to Rule the World."

He broke out into a genuine grin at this, shaking his head like he hadn't expected her to remember either.

"Not bad, Y/N. Not bad."

They fell into a comfortable silence as they watched one another, truly taking the other in for the first time in a long time.

Steve was right, they had been close, but that was a while ago now and a lot had happened since.

"I miss this, you know. Us." He began tentatively, only to be interrupted by an irritated whisper.

"Hey, losers, some of us are trying to sleep here." Dustin's voice cut through the air angrily, shattering the atmosphere that had fallen between them.

Steve immediately turned to Dustin with a furious look of disbelief, shoving his middle finger up at the teen as if to berate him for interrupting the moment. Y/N struggled to hold in a laugh, hanging her head to conceal her smile.

When she glanced back at Steve he had a sad look in his eyes and he had turned them back to study the hideous pattern of the sofa she was laid on.

Y/N reached out this time, placing a hand on his shoulder, and his eyes raised to hers again hopefully.

"I miss it, too." She whispered.

There was another long silence. There was nothing else to be said at that moment, not when everyone else was, as Dustin had so eloquently put it, trying to sleep.

There seemed to be an unspoken understanding as they looked at each other, though; if they got through this they would make time to talk through everything. They would make it right again.

"You gonna get some sleep now?"

Y/N nodded, giving Steve a last, tired smile before she closed her eyes.

She hadn't moved her hand from resting on his shoulder, and he found himself selfishly leaning his head into her touch as much as the angle of his neck would allow. It wasn't exactly comfortable, but he did take comfort in her closeness.

He cast another glance over the room, double checking that Max was still awake and well, when his eyes caught another set that were wide awake, watching him from across the room.

As soon as his eyes met Robin's she smirked, giving him a not so subtle double thumbs up. He was just thankful that whatever luck had gotten them through this ordeal so far had stuck around long enough to make sure that Y/N hadn’t seen that.

He rolled his eyes, doing his best to ignore the girl, but when she gestured that she'd take over the next watch he nodded gratefully, slouching further down the couch to lean closer into the comfort of Y/N's touch.

Maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t totally lost her. Maybe, they still had a chance.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington imagine #stranger things spoilers #stranger things x reader

262 notes · View notes

slashingdisneypasta · 2 years

Text

Jervis Tetch (+Platonic J Squad) x Reader || Drabble

Plot: You're out shopping with the J Squad (Jerome is disguised, naturally. And somehow no one questions the other two?? I mean, its Gotham.) and you're just having on off day, and start to feel overwhelmed by the general population and just, you know, being out in the world. You don't want to make a big deal about it though so you grin and bear it, since they're having a pretty pleasant, normal time, but your lover Jervis notices of course anyway, and just friends Jonathan and Jerome aren't far behind.

Basically, here, have some self indulgent fluff. I was feeling this way when i started this and wanted to write this for the next time I feel that way or if any of y'all need some comfort too ^^

Warnings: Feelings of being overwhelmed and anxious and just plain down/not thrilled with existing in the moment.

Oh, you love to spend time with your three guys; You do. And you're trying so hard to remember that. That Jerome's jokes are genuinely funny in all their silly, grisly glory. And that it feels really good when Jonathan gets to enjoy normal things like this, and that getting to hold Jervis' hand out in public is a nice normal boyfriend thing that you don't always get to enjoy- So you need to eat it up while you can, now.

But its hard to remember that and stay in that headspace, when any time another human being but walks in your general direction, you feel like shrivelling in on yourself. And when your hair is gross today, and when you feel like you're almost running into things and those damn people absolutely non-stop.

Right now, you just want to stop existing. Not forever; Just for a little while. A few hours. Just to rest, and recalibrate. Come back refreshed, in a way that a smoothie or even a spa day couldn't achieve. You'd give so much for that, right now. For all the people around you to just shut up (Not Jerome, Jervis and Jonathan, no. Everyone else in Gotham, though... oh yeah), and stop having the damn gall to even have limbs in your presence. You're aware how you feel sounds ridiculous written down, but all you really want is no chance of being unnecessarily touched (By anyone but Jervis)... or looked at... or stepped by. You're overwhelmed and for once it has nothing to do with Jerome Valeska.

You don't dare to say that, though. You wouldn't ever put a damper on their, day. Jerome is having such a good (Non-Horrific) time, and there is not a thing in this world anyone could do to you to make you take away Jonathan's peaceful hours, and you like to be a pain to Jervis least of all. Because you know that he'll worry about you, if you say how you're feeling. He'll worry, and he'll do anything to make you feel better, and it'll ruin his day, and you don't even know that he could make you feel better.

So you just have stay quiet. You paste a smile to your face, and you laugh convincingly, you take tiny little quick sips from your drink, you steer clear of other people and you hold on tight to Jervis' hand. But most importantly you act normal.

"Hey hey hey!- Baghead! Check this one out!"

"Jerome, that's a toilet seat."

"It's a crap hat!" The ginger cackles before the new toilet seat from the hardware store falls over his head and becomes more a collar of sorts, causing him to make an 'ope' sound and you to force a grin. Silly boy.

"Mr Valeska, how crass." Jervis sighs beside you, a bag full of different fancy tea's hooked into the crook of his arm; But he's just shaking his head. He's not frowning at all- in fact theirs a shit eating smirk on his face.

He can pretend like he doesn't love Jerome's stupid jokes all he likes, you think, sharing a knowing look with Jonathan. But that sure as hell doesn't change the terrible truth.

As two women and a pram roll by way too close for your current comfort levels, your force yourself to not jerk away from them but just to take a deep breath and shift to turn your back to them, so your world now revolves around the lavender colour of Jervis shirt collar and Jonathan casually browsing the shelf you're all standing by; Picking up and setting down various knick-knacks along the way. You busy yourself steadying your mind and wondering what you can say about those knick-knacks. Just to make conversation with him and focus on that, instead of the damn strangers around you that shouldn't flare you up as much as it does right this moment. But does.

"Darling, are you alright?" Your eyes flicker up to Jervis face, seeing a concerned expression on it - lips pulled into a pressed state and eyebrows furrowed down his forehead, - as he gazes down at you. Of course he noticed you. Taking a deep breath, and you shift closer to him and look down again at the lavender shirt he wears. Its oddly a calming colour, right now.

"Just... feeling a little bit overwhelmed." You say quietly, very little tone left in your voice. All your energy, after all, is being used not to pick up and go straight home and not look back. "That's all."

"Do you wish to leave, flower?" The worry in his tone only increases, which catches the attentions of Jerome and Jonathan as they turn to see what's happening.

"Leave??!" Jerome pipes up, totally horrified by the notion. You just got here! "Why would we do that, now??"

Jonathan zeroes in on you, you can feel it, and waives a canvas clad arm Jerome's way, tilting his head at you. "I believe our resident civilian is feeling... anxious... " Its not said in a mean way, despite what he's dubbed you- at all. In fact he sounds... half concerned. If one could even express an emotion like that through a voice like his.

Jerome's neck practically snaps turning to look at Jonathan, then back to you. "What for??" Stepping over to you, Jerome gives a winning wink, though his voice suddenly goes dark and growly. "They know they're safe with us... right?"

You force yourself to roll your eyes, but shrink into Jervis some more anyway. He's your only safe place. "Its not about you... "

Swiftly Jerome falls back into his former position, frowning the best he can. "Well, that hurts."

Its almost enough to make you grin, but the idea just throws you. A round of nausea rolling through you at the hint of your mood perking up, and your eyes slip away from the boys to the rest of the room. Theirs a man talking on his phone, and for some reason it fills you with abject fury, deep in your chest. You don't know why, but it makes you want to cry. "Y/N, my love... " Blinking, you look up at Jervis with a pounding heart and his hand lets go of yours in favour of wrapping around the back of your waist. Which is good. It feels like he's protecting you; Like no one can get to you where he's touching you. You only wish he could hold more of you. "We'll go straight home, if you so desire."

Taking in a deep breath through your nose, you slowly shake your head up at him. "No, no. I can handle this, I just... maybe need a hot drink, or something. I don't know." Some kid is bouncing a display ball against the tiled ground and the sticky, rubbery sound feels like horrible vibrations up your spine. Closing your eyes, you take another breath. "Maybe... tea... "

"Oh, love. I can help with that."

After you got your drink, Jervis had lifted off the plastic lid for you so you could hold it and the steam would warm up your face which helped, and the 4 of you took up a corner booth in the café. Jonathan stares into his double shot long black coffee like he sees something morbid and nightmarish inside that no one else does, Jerome obnoxiously slurps down his 'Unicorn Blast Milkshake' (Which is really Banana flavour with rainbow food dye and an abundance of cream, syrup and sprinkles), you focus on the overall heat of your tea while trying to ignore the fact that soon enough Jerome will start nagging you all about leaving this safe haven, and your lover rubs circles into the crooks between your neck and shoulders with his thumb and fingers; Working out the stress knots. Every now and then he'll turn away from the table conversation to kiss you on the temple closest to him and ask you how you're doing in a whisper, just between you too.

"Y/N, my love, how are you feeling?"

"Getting better, Jer."

Kiss.

"Euuuuuugh, get a load of this, sack-man. Don't they make you sick??"

"They are rather revolting." Jonathan agrees with his comrade, and for the first time for what feels like hours but couldn't be more than one, realistically, you grin; Teeth digging into your bottom lip as it happens. Even as you look down at your lap and do it, they all notice, and miraculously somehow the table seems to take up a lighter vibe, immediately. Jonathan shares an appreciative look with you, before returning his attentions back to his coffee.

“Ahhh, there ya go! Who knew insulting you’s what’d put a smile on that dial. Man, that’s… almost kinky.” Jerome dissolves into a puddle of insane, asthmatic sounding giggles beside Jonathan, while the scarecrow man shuffles closer to the wall; Away from the clown freak beside him.

Then on your side of the table, is of course, Jervis. He carries one of your hands up to his mouth and presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles. You watch with bated breath, this romantic and old-fashioned gesture never getting old. Besides- lost in his brown eyes, you’re safe. Nothing can harm you, or touch you, there. So you’ll stay gazing into them until something else captures either of your attentions.

…

And that something is usually, Jerome.

“Hey- Hey hat man! Didja know your beau was so curly??? Haha- hehe- ” Jervis deeply sighs, at getting interrupted from you. Another careful, but somewhat less so this time, smile spreads across your face as he lowers your joined hands down to the leather seat between you, and turns his attention to your child, Jerome. Picking up his own tea, he nods.

“Oh yes. I did.”

At that, you really do smile; So broad your cheeks stretch and you almost laugh. Especially when Jonathan looks up to the heavens, silently and ironically asking for some help.

#Jervis Tetch x Reader Drabble #Jervis Tetch x Reader #Jervis Tetch #J Squad x Reader Drabble #J Squad x Reader #J Squad #Gotham #Fox Gotham #Jerome Valeska #Jonathan Crane #Jonathon Crane #The Scarecrow #The Mad Hatter #Jerome Valeska x Reader #Platonic #Jonathan Crane x Reader

215 notes · View notes

thankskenpenders · 3 years

Text

TKP Addendums: Sonic #3

In our third revisit of an early Archie Sonic issue I hastily skimmed through in 2014, Sonic and Tails are, in fact, telling the truth here. Because this is Bunnie's first issue! This is obviously all I care about here

Our first deeply silly story is kicked off with Sonic overhearing Robotnik talking about "The Bomb." He assumes that this means Robotnik has a nuke, and goes home to warn Rotor and Sally about it. This leads to... the Freedom Fighters protesting for nuclear disarmament?

Okay, not really. This is a Looney-Tunes ass gag where the FFs are really just a projection on the wall to trick Robotnik. But still. It's always funny to see these nakedly political moments in these early comics, but I can't say it doesn't fit the FernGully-ass premise. Some will probably compare this to the oddly executed anti-gun stance of the entire Kingdom of Acorn in later Penders stories, but I don't think that the Freedom Fighters not wanting Robotnik to have nukes is exactly a hard sell

And yes, the fat jokes at Robotnik's expense are constant in these early comics. Just a nonstop barrage of them. At this point they're just white noise to me

Anyway, this story devolves into a series of gags where Rotor and Robotnik are disguised as each other as they fight over the package containing "The Bomb." The ultimate punchline is that it's actually a bug bomb. The end, this one is fine, moving on to BUNNIE

Wait, is that joke about the Swatbots having a quota system... a jab at cops?? Gallagher just earned some points back in my book

So yes, Bunnie's origin story here is deeply silly, as you'd expect of Gallagher. (I still think her first line is funny, even if Gallagher making her say shit like "the south will rise again" would get EXTREMELY TIRING later on.) I can't blame him for writing it like this, since he had no idea that this series would lean into melodrama for most of its run. But in hindsight, it's wild that Bunnie's roboticization, this horrific event that would change her life and define her as a character, happens because of a slapstick gag where Sonic forgets he's tethered to Rotor. And it's not like SatAM ever told this story, nor did the later Archie comics ever retcon this to tell a more serious version. So this remained THE origin story for Bunnie for 20 years, until the reboot necessitated a do-over

There are still some interesting tidbits I can glean from this by reading way too much into it as a Bunnie stan, though. Her roboticization is still treated with SOME weight here compared to the usual antics. I also find it interesting that Rotor worries about Bunnie being a liability, since that would later end up being one of her greatest fears according to that one backup story I'll never ever stop obsessing over. In response we get a nice little moment where Sonic says he doesn't care and that they just need to help this poor stranger because it's the right thing to do

But don't expect this serious tone to last. As soon as they get to Knothole, Bunnie wakes up and starts hopping around and bragging about her newfound abilities like these are things she's always been able to do. It's very Golden Age superhero. A lightning-quick origin story followed immediately by a superpower showcase

(She also hits on Sonic, but a couple pages later she recognizes that Sally has feelings for him and this potential love triangle is aborted... for now.)

Yeah, the tonal whiplash is pretty noticeable, but I'm not expecting these early Gallagher comics to take anything seriously. Judging it by his standards, it's fine. Bunnie makes a good first impression as a fun character with a big personality and lots of cool fighting skills, which is a godsend in this era when Sally's almost never allowed to do anything interesting

I already highlighted this back in the day, but I feel obligated to remind everyone of the incredibly funny thing Antoine says the first time he sees his future wife

Sonic and Bunnie head out to fight a giant Burrobot. They make for a great tag team, with Bunnie's sheer strength complimenting Sonic's speed. It's a shame we didn't see them team up more often as the series went on, but this is a great little showcase for Bunnie. Yeah, Gallagher's not gonna get into the juicy drama here because he was hired to emulate AoStH at Sega's request, but Bunnie shows off that she's good in a fight and that she's eager to turn her partial roboticization against Robotnik to help her new friends. It's not deep, but it's entertaining

And that's issue #3. I am extremely biased, I'll admit, but Bunnie's introduction remains a highlight of these first few issues

Next time: the debut of Super Sonic!

#StH 3 #tkp post #tkp addendums #hi this was queued last night yes I am aware that this will be immediately overshadowed by the Scourge news

118 notes · View notes

justaredheadf1fan · 2 years

Text

Barcelona GP, better known as one of the best weekends I remember, ever

Masterlist

Well, I can finally write about this!

I would’ve written yesterday after finishing up at the circuit if I hadn’t been so freaking beat! Jesus, it was exhausting as well as exciting as hell. We nearly didn’t make it, that heat wave was horrific! Now, back to business 🤪

So, we missed Friday, of course. No biggie. Saturday came and started as the disaster we truly are. We miscalculated big time and we arrived later than we expected. Missed exits on the road because of the shitty GPS plus me being the worst and poor signaling on the organization’s part, which I expected to not happen after so many years of organizing this event but whatever. We arrived and went looking for our gate only to find not only that it was all the way up the hill, but also that there was a line of people so long we passed the following gate until we finally arrived at the end of it. Yes, I’m telling it like I’d tell the rest of my friends at any point, don’t mind me. 28ºC already at 11 or so, we were DYING. Sun blazing like there was no tomorrow, and it was almost true. Add to it that we both look like a piece of paper and burn too easily, the party had already began for us.

The line was done fairly quick, at least comparing to what we expected to be the longest wait ever. We did miss most of FP3 though, we caught the last 15 minutes or so at most. A shame really, but the sudden wave of happiness when we finally got to the track and started seeing the cars flying around was the best. I can’t really describe the feeling, honestly. I don’t think I’ve ever been that happy about anything, truth be told. My smile was huge, I almost started crying, actually 😂

Once FP3 was done, we looked for our seats, started slowly dying in the sun and we went for something refreshing while W Series came on (sorry we missed it, ladies), otherwise it would’ve been a very, very long afternoon melting onto our seats. I wasn’t planning on it but while waiting in line for some Coca Cola (we needed some sugar to endure that hell) I was getting drowsy from the sun burning through my skull, which I knew was a very bad sign that early on, so I succumbed and bought a Merc cap, otherwise it probably would’ve ended badly at that point. Not that the *Mercedes* part of the cap was the saving factor. But, when choosing among all the options, it had to be Mercedes. Duh. It could’ve also been an old Renault cap with Daniel’s number on it, I really thought about it, buuuuut my heart beat me to it, even though the Mercedes cap was expensive as hell for my taste. It is what it is. I’m happy with it anyway. Quite the savior and the mood booster, if I think about it. I got quite a few interesting looks while wearing it, specially from RedBull/Inbred Frog fans. Very nice, indeed.

Quali was surreal. It was so exciting, so many people there, and the results were pretty amazing for our boys too. We had some Leclerc/Ferrari fans behind us, which for me was purely fantastic. And a couple Merc fans on Marina’s side. So, very nice. The ambiance was incredible, in general, people were super nice. When we were leaving some British girls started talking to us and it was quite fun. Ultimately, we took a good 2 hours waiting in the car before we even started moving out of the parking lot because it was impossible, as much as arriving was. But we made it back and that was an amazing Day 1 at Montmeló.

Then Sunday (yesterday) came, and it was still so unbelievable. Many more people comparing to Saturday, and seeing what happened on Saturday, we decided to get there pretty damn early, and it worked. We got a little lost again with the fantastic signals around the parking lots, but much less than the day before, so that was something and we parked pretty close to the entrance and pretty quickly too so yeah, we learnt our lesson 😁

We walked around a little, saw the Main Stands and the Fan Zone behind it. We saw the start of Formula 3, which was amazing. The sound of those cars up close was insane, so I can’t even imagine how F1 cars will sound like right there directly in front of them. It must be pretty special. We even saw the start of Formula 2 from our stand this time, but went for something to eat prior to the F1 race taking advantage that there weren’t so many people yet, so we missed the rest of that race. The ambiance was much more amazing even than Saturday’s, as it was so packed. Over 121,000 people came as it turns out. I still don’t have good enough words to describe it.

Then, it was time for Formula 1. Whoa. I mean. Whoa. Driver’s Parade came right after F2 finished, and there was an hour and a half break more or less so we escaped to find a little shade, otherwise I don’t think we would’ve lasted the whole race in the sun. 36ºC already at that point, so I guessed that’s why they only made a single lap around the track? No idea, but it was super short.

Finally, the race came and that was impressive. To watch it live, to hear the sound of the car engines, the speed. A dream come true would be an understatement. Kevin’s crash onto Lewis, Carlos and then Verstappen going off the track (we were the only ones cheering in our stand while watching that), Lewis gaining position after position after dropping to P19 at the very beginning, Charles losing power right after he passed through the turn we were watching from, George keeping Verstappen at bail… I can’t describe all of this. It’s been over 24h now and I just can’t say a word that would match what we’ve lived this past weekend. Even the Aston Martin Safety Car was sexy this past weekend, for fuck’s sake.

Some pictures I’m particularly happy about:

I obviously have more, but apparently I’ve reached the limit. Anyway, I need to go back 😭

Finally, I wanna say thank you. Thank you to my friend Marina, because for 7 and a half years I missed out on so many incredible races and content about my most favorite (kind of) idiots due to an absurd reasoning on my part and then she came along and opened my eyes back to one of the things I used to love the most when I was just a kid who liked sports more than most girls did back then. I would’ve never gone to Barcelona in the first place if not for her. I’m so grateful you can’t imagine what this has given me on such a deep level. It’s been so long since I last cried because I didn’t wanna let go of such an incredible thing that I just lived. A thing so magnificent regardless of what some people are turning it into, that I wanted time to stop altogether and stay in that moment. It’s been such a pleasure, that next year we’re going back whatever it takes.

To whoever’s reading, I don’t care how many people you are, where you are and that you don’t even know me, thank you. I’m never letting go of this ever again.

Next up is Monaco, I’m moving on Friday and I’m not supposed to start working until Monday, so I really hope I can watch more or less everything during the weekend without issue. At least until I can figure out how will work interfere with the following races and I can organize myself to watch everything in a timely fashion anyway.

Peace out!

17 notes · View notes

nat-20s · 3 years

Text

Part 8 of the wonderful! Au: the boys answer some questions! Up to you to decide if they actually clarify anything!

(also on AO3)

~*~

Martin: Hey everyone! I know what some of you are thinking right now: it's not Tuesday, why is this episode in my feed? I know significantly more of you are thinking: I don't consistently keep up with podcast releases, how much free time do you think I have, buddy? To answer your queries: this is a bonus episode! We're answering listener questions to clear the air and/or have fun. Also, I don't know, around 20 to 40 minutes a week, as that is the average amount of time per episode? Maybe during your commute? My husband's omnipotence has been gone for five years, we just have to guess at that sort of thing now.

Jon: For legal reasons, that last statement was a joke. In fact, to cover all of our bases, we do not guarantee that any of our responses are genuine.

Martin: Just because we say we'll answer things doesn't mean we'll answer truthfully. Though, honestly, I think we might make it more enjoyable if we do tell the truth. Like, I don't necessarily have a fun lie prepared for our first question from konspiracyking97: "What's their fuckin deal anyway?"

Jon: Is this referring to the oblique references we've made about being from a parallel reality and only ending up here as a consequence of ending one apocalypse and potentially starting another or the general premise of the show?

Martin: Oh, it's gotta be general premise, yeah?

Jon: In that case, I'm Jon, the other voice you're hearing is Martin, we're married, and we talk about things that are..nice? Good? Usually generally but occasionally rather specifically pleasant.

Martin: That pretty much covers it. It's not a complicated show. Uhh, next question comes from Shane: are either or both of you aliens? Nope!

Jon: Well..

Martin: No. We are 100% human people from Earth, we are under no definition extraterrestrial.

Jon: Eh..

Martin: Okay, first off, I know the tone of that 'eh' and "not fully human" is not synonymous with alien, so even if 100% is being a bit generous, we're still from the same planet as our listeners.

Jon:..

Jon: But. We sort of aren't though. Technically speaking.

Martin: No no no no no. I don't care if it's parallel, Earth is Earth is Earth, regardless of whatever nonsense metaphysics might be occurring.

Jon: So what you're saying is that if you got sucked through a portal and landed on an Earth where dinosaurs were still the predominant species, you wouldn't consider yourself to be an alien?

Martin: Nope!

Jon: I'm certain that they would consider you an alien. All of their mammals are probably shrew sized.

Martin: Sounds like a them problem.

Jon: Sounds like a-?! You know what, no, this will be an off the record debate, for now, I suppose I concede that the two Earths and our physiologies are similar enough that we might, maybe, not count as aliens.

Martin: Thank you. Anyway, our next question is from anonymous, and asks, "Is all of this an ARG?"

Jon: A whomst?

Martin: Alternate reality game. It's a method of storytelling that's interactive with audience, and usually has, I dunno, a certain suspension of disbelief to it where it pretends to be something actually happening in the real world until a dramatic reveal. A lot times it was used as a marketing gimmick, but others have done it just for fun. I can show you some examples after the show?

Jon: So it's in essence a more involved creepypasta?

Martin, delighted: Aw, babe, I'm never going to have a handle on what pop culture you are and aren't aware of, huh?

Jon: We were born within a year of each other, and I've told you that I was a deeply morbid teenager, you should probably be able to intuit some of things, love.

Martin: This coming from a man who has yet to see "It's a Wonderful Life", but has seen every film in the "Banjo Cannibals" franchise, including the Easter special. Jesus doesn't exist in the Banjo Cannibals universe, why does it have an Easter special?

Jon: The movies are rather shoddily translated from Russian, so I'm fairly certain the Easter component of that special was invented wholesale in the English version.

Martin: You say that like it answers more questions than it raises.

Jon: Yes, because it does. Oh, and to answer anonymous's question, no, this isn't an ARG. From my understanding of it, if it were, it'd be a poorly constructed one, as there's no real game element to any of this.

Martin: Hmm. Well, sometimes the game component is just trying to figure out what's going on with the story, or if there's any deeper content, and people are definitely doing that with this show.

Jon: That's not by design though. It's more a side effect of us having poor brain to mouth filters, I'd say.

Martin: Harsh, but fair. Oh, this next one is from Zac, no K, who asks, "Are you two actually even married?"

Jon, flat: We are, but it's under false names because this whole thing is an elaborate insurance scam.

Jon, incredulous: Yes, obviously, we're married. What did you hear in this podcast that would make you wonder otherwise, and how do we rectify it?

Martin: Clearly we need to up our quota for how "disgustingly in love" and "horrifically sappy" we are per episode. Which segues nicely into the next question from Gwen, "What's your favourite wonderful thing you've brought so far?" My answer: my husband. He's kind of my favourite in most things, you know?

Jon: Boooooo

Martin: Why, what's your favourite thing?

[Jon reluctantly sighs]

Jon, indulgent: being married.

Martin: A: serves you right for trying to pretend you're the less horrifically sappy and romantic one even though earlier today someone put a love note in the lunch they packed for me-

Jon:- Lies and slander! I have never, in my life, done that, even once.

Martin: Oh, sure, not even once. And you definitely don't reserve the lilac sticky notes specifically for my lunches because you know I like the colour.

Jon: I..I don't.. you're rather ruining my image here.

[Martin snorts]

Martin: Can't have the audience think that you are, on occasion, an incredibly doting husband-

Jon: -A title I would argue we both share-

Martin: - which is obviously why, even with it being your favourite thing you've brought, being married to me is just a small wonder-

Jon, audibly rolling his eyes: As I already explained-

[A Pause}

Jon: Actually, you're right-

Martin: Wait-

Jon:- I really should have brought it as a larger wonder-

Martin: Wait-

Jon: though I should warn you, I think I'd have far too much material for just one little segment-

Martin: No no no no no-

Jon:- In fact, I think I might have too much material for just one little episode-

Martin: Joo-oon-

Jon: I might have to do a whole series! Where would I even start? I mean I could talk about how every day I get to watch the early morning sun highlight your curls when I get up first, or hear you quietly humming and shuffling around the kitchen when you do, or I could talk about how the lunch notes only started in the first place as retaliation to the notes you would leave on the mirror for me to find, or how every time I get to see you at ease in a way that you aren't with anyone else, it takes my breath away, or I could talk about how cute I find the lines between your eyebrows that you only get when you're thinking something petty, but you know it's petty so you don't want to say anything-

Martin: Okay, okay, Christ, I give !up I surrender, and will cease my teasing on this particular topic.

Jon, probably making the :3 face: You don't have to stop. I mean, I could also discuss how very, very attractive I find your voice when it takes on a teasi-mmph!

[There's a pleased hum, then a pause.]

[The audio quality is slightly changed, as if the recording has been stopped and then started later]

Martin, giddy: Uh, heh, anyway, Eric asked what the least favourite thing we've brought was, and because of Jon's attempt to embarrass me live-

Jon, overlapping: It's definitely not live-

Martin:- on air, I'm gonna say it's my husband.

[Jon scoffs]

Jon : If the past few minutes are any sort of indication, I'm going to go ahead and saying that you are lying.

Martin, sighing contentedly: Maybe a bit, but how was I supposed to resist when your indigance gives you that adorable little nose scrunch? In reality, my least favourite thing was probably, um, mini golf? Which, I still don't think is inherently bad, definitely superior to regular golf, but when it's the only thing a next door two year old wants to do with you, the charm begins to wear off a bit.

Jon: Wow. A rather scathing review of a toddler.

Martin: Not so much a scathing review of a toddler as it's a scathing review of minigolf's inability to keep its appeal after the third time in the same week.

Jon: Mmm, the sound effects rather quickly go from part of the atmosphere to part of the irritation, don't they?

Martin: So what's your least favorite thing we've covered here?

Jon: Oh, love, I'm not going to pretend to have nearly enough memory of what we've covered so far to have a least favorite.

Martin: Really? Nothing that you regret or rescind?

Jon: Well, regret, certainly. It was one of the weeks where you went first, and your second item was mutual aid funds, and what they can do for marginalized communities, and I had to follow it with fucking Slapchop.

Martin, poorly suppressing laughter: In your defence, Slapchop, or whatever offbrand we have, is pretty useful, especially when either your scar or my arthritis is acting up.

Jon: I'm still not convinced you didn't somehow see my notes for the recording and decided you get revenge for the first year that we knew each other.

Martin, no longer suppressing his laughter: Yep, you got me! This marriage wasn't an act of insurance fraud, but it was a near decade long con to humiliate you on a podcast that about twenty people listen to. I'll draft up the divorce papers immediately, and then we can finally go our separate ways.

Jon: I'm glad you've at last admitted it. Such a weight off of my shoulders. Goodbye forever then.

Martin: Right.

Jon: Right.

[A beat.]

[There's a pfft from one of them, before both dissolve into giggles that lasts a good 30 seconds.]

Martin, slightly out of breath: I can't believe we're the kind of people that talk this much about speciality kitchen gadgets.

Jon: Sorry about that.

Martin: God, don't apologize. I'm, like, deliriously happy with our varying degrees of useful cooking ware filled life. If you had told 25 year old me that one day he'd be debating the merits of getting a tortilla press with his husband, he'd have wept, I tell you.

Jon: Funny, if you told 25 year old me the same thing, he would've said "You don't know the future,piss off" and then quietly have a bit of a panic at 3 am that night.

Martin: I bet you were insufferable in your mid-twenties.

Jon: First of all, who isn't, secondly, I was fresh out of Oxford, and third, I was insufferable in my late twenties, as you can attest to, and I'm insufferable now, as you can further attest to, so extrapolation would indicate that, yes, I was insufferable back then.

Martin: Probably a different kind of insufferable, though.

Jon: There are different kinds?

Martin: Of course! You used to be "prick boss" insufferable and now you're "smug in a way that I can't admit I find hot or it will go straight to your head" insufferable.

Jon, in the aforementioned smug tone: Oh, really?

Martin: See, see! Straight to your head.

Jon: Well straight is probably the wrong descriptor-

Martin: Oof, 4 out of 10 joke, babe.

Jon: That would be a far more convincing rating if you weren't grinning right now.

Martin: It's a genuine review, I'm just well known to be a sucker.

Jon: You and me both, darling.

Martin: Okay, if you're pulling out darling, you're clearly in too giddy of a mood to be focused on recording. Last question, from Jess, "You two mentioned meeting at work, but how did you actually end up together?" That's easy, Jon pulled me out of a hell dimension and then we went on the lam together to Scotland.

Jon: If that's not the way to tell a cute boy you like him, I don't know what is.

Martin: All right, that wraps up this bonus episode, and as the old saying goes, hiding from murderers in a cottage is more conducive to romance than suggesting you gouge out your eyes together.

Jon, cut off: Hey-!

#tma #jonmartin #jon sims #martin blackwood #post canon #wonderful! au #my fic

100 notes · View notes

mypoisonedvine · 4 years

Text

Exchanging Gifts | chubby!Bucky Barnes x reader

HAPPY BIRTHDAY KARINA!!! @ballyhoobarnes you’re such a sweet person and so talented and a great friend and ily and also ur hot, which is less relevant but still worth mentioning

summary: chubby!bucky takes you out for your birthday, and even though he’s inexperienced, he knows how to show you a good time if you know what I mean... listen it’s pretty much fluffy pwp idk what to tell you

warnings: smut!!, oral (m receiving), loss of virginity (his, of course lol), some fingering, overstimulation, creampie kink, praise kink, morning sex, bucky being insecure?? FLUFF it’s FLUFFY you guys but somehow it turned out filthy too idk i couldn’t help it.

word count: just under 4k, hot damn how did that happen

Even though you'd insisted he didn't need to do anything special for your birthday, Bucky had shown up with a dozen roses and dinner reservations. "Get dressed up fancy," he instructed you the moment you'd opened the door. "This place has a black tie dress code."

He was a true gentleman the whole night, until he walked you back to your place. The second you were on the other side of your door, you couldn't keep your hands off of each other.

"You're so wonderful," you murmured between breathless kisses as you stumbled back towards the couch.

"This better not be you thinking you owe me anything because I paid for your dinner," he chuckled, "on your birthday."

"Oh it's not that at all," you smiled, running your hands over his chest.

"What is it then?"

You smirked. He always seemed to need a reason, as if 'you're my boyfriend and you're hot' wasn't reason enough. "Can I be honest with you, Bucky?" you asked quietly, licking your lips subconsciously.

"Always!"

"It's times like this that I'm just really in the mood to suck your cock."

He stammered a little, running a hand through his hair nervously.

"Really?"

"Yup."

He laughed for a second, then got serious again, then just looked horrifically nervous. "Oh, well I, uh…"

"We don't have to do anything about that, I just felt like saying it—"

"What if we did do something about it?"

You raised an eyebrow. "Would you want me to?"

"Of course I want you to," he sighed. "I know we've been taking things really slow— and I'm so glad you've been patient with me— I just… god, you're perfect," he laughed.

"That's far from the truth," you dismissed. "But I've been happy to take things slow with you. Even when sometimes it felt like I would die if I couldn't get my hands on you…"

You ran your hands over his chest, feeling how warm and soft he was beneath the shirt he was wearing.

"Ah, I've been there," he replied wistfully.

"Really? You relate to that?"

"I barely made it through dinner," he admitted with a laugh. "All I could think about was… doing this…" he trailed off as he leaned in and began to lick and suck at your neck; his arms wrapped around your waist and you were like putty in them.

"Oh god, Buck," you moaned.

"Say my name like that again," he pleaded.

"Make me," you challenged.

He growled a little as he pulled you back to straddle him on the couch. You couldn't stop yourself from grinding down on him, moaning again when you felt the hard shape of his cock rubbing right against your clit through your dress and panties.

"Mm, take this off," you purred, tugging at his shirt and tie.

"C-can I keep it on?"

You got a little more serious. "Of course you can, if you want to. But I'll admit that I wanna see you."

"And if you don't like what you see?"

"Unlikely, but we'll cross that bridge when we get to it. I'll take mine off first if you'd like?"

"Obviously I'd like," he chuckled, "but that's easy for you to say. You're, you know, sexy and stuff."

"As if you're not?"

"I'm not," he informed you.

"Bucky, I'm gonna level with you: you are so fucking sexy it's actually gonna be the death of me someday," you laughed. "Don't you realize I think about you all the time?" you asked, getting a little more serious. "Bucky, those times where you came over and we made out, or fooled around? As soon as you left I was getting myself off right here on this couch— even when you'd already made me come while you were over. That's how horny you make me— and when you're not here and all I can do is imagine you, I always call out your name when I—"

"Baby," he groaned, "you'd better stop talking like that or this is gonna end a lot sooner than I want it to."

You chuckled before you started to slip off the straps of your dress, loving the way he watched you do it: enraptured.

You were taken by surprise when, the moment your breasts had spilled from the dress, he leaned forward to suck your nipple between his lips.

With a gasp and a moan, you gripped at his hair and let your head fall back. Either you were really sensitive, or he was really good at this-- probably a little bit of both, but fuck if you weren’t beyond needy and desperate at this point.

"Please, Bucky," you whimpered.

"What is it, angel? Anything you want, you can have it," he mumbled as he switched to the other side (symmetry is very important with these sorts of things) and you rubbed your hips against his absent-mindedly.

"Please, please, I need to taste you Bucky, oh my god please let me taste you—"

He nodded and you sighed with relief, beginning to slide down his body as you loosened his tie and opened his shirt. With each button you exposed more of his body, lathing every inch of skin with kisses.

"How's this?" you asked him softly, looking up at him through your lashes. "Is this okay?"

"It's very unfamiliar," he answered, "and much more than okay."

"Has nobody done this to you before?"

"Nobody's ever wanted to."

You smirked a little. "Oh, I doubt that." You palmed his cock through the suit pants, grinning when he jerked a little under your touch. Slowly, you opened the fly and pulled it out.

Of course you'd seen his cock before, but not for very long and not up close like this. It suddenly seemed intimidatingly big; you weren't sure you were going to be able to get much of it in your mouth… but you were excited to try!

You weren't sure you had the heart to tease him very much, but you wanted to give it a try at least. You licked the head first, then down the shaft, then back up slowly. He was quiet at first, too busy watching you to say anything, but you knew he was losing patience when his fingers brushed over the side of your face; you could feel his restraint, you could feel that urge to grab your hair and guide you.

"Go ahead," you encouraged, "tell me what you want."

"Put it in your mouth, please," he whimpered.

When you obeyed by pushing his cock all the way to the back of your throat, he made the most beautiful sound: like a gasp and a moan all at once. His hips bucked up into your throat ever so slightly and the sensation of choking made you grow even wetter.

"Fuck," he sighed, "'s so good…"

You moved up and down, savoring every ridge of him as it slid over your tongue. Each movement grew a little faster as you used your hand to stroke what your lips couldn't reach.

"Baby," he moaned, "oh my god, s-slow down, please— 'm so close, ah fuck yes—"

You stopped for a moment and used only your hand, catching your breath a little as you took a moment to appreciate how good he looked like this.

"Is it okay if I make you come?" you asked.

"Is it okay if it doesn't take you very long at all?" he returned, already sounding positively wrecked.

“I’ll take it as a compliment,” you decided.

“You should,” he confirmed, whimpering again when you took him back into your mouth and let your tongue explore whatever it could reach.

The taste of his pre-cum made you moan, and the vibrations of that moan made him grip your shoulder tightly.

“A-angel, please,” he begged, as if he was worried you would stop for some reason. Your attitude was entirely the opposite, though. All you could think about was how much you wanted to taste his orgasm and swallow it down. Fortunately, that dream came true not too much later when he grabbed the back of your neck and moaned your name loudly— loud enough that you were a little worried the neighbors might hear.

But honestly? You kinda wanted them to.

You kept stroking and sucking until every drop was on your tongue. You smiled up at him and almost spilled some of it but thankfully avoided that fiasco.

“Show me,” he requested softly; it was a relatively mild show of dominance, but it still sent a shiver down your back as you stuck out your tongue and let his seed gather on it. “Fuck,” he whispered, “that was… wow.”

You swallowed before answering, because it seemed like a good order to do things in. The bitter taste as the back of your throat was a small price to pay for him looking at you like that.

“You look drained,” you informed him.

“I am,” he nodded. “Oh, wait, you mean tired? Yeah, that too.”

You laughed a little. “Can we lay down for a minute?”

“It’s 10 p.m., I think it’s acceptable to lay down for more than a minute.”

Deciding to turn in for the night instead (and, of course, have a sleepover), the two of you got ready and changed into pajamas, snuggling up into each other’s arms.

It was an easy sleep after that, and a long one. Bucky woke up first, the very early light of sunrise being less of an influence on his wakefulness compared to you bumping up against him. He didn’t mind, though, he liked to watch you for a minute before you woke up anyways, to appreciate how peaceful you looked.

He heard you hum through your sleep, cuddling up closer to him. It was just cute at first, but then your ass pressed back against crotch and goooood morning…

"Hi there beautiful," he cooed, gently kissing on your temple and down to your neck. You stirred but didn't wake just yet, though you did smile; and he smiled too, loving the way your lips curled— he could remember how those lips looked wrapped around his cock, swollen and slick with spit and come. It was a good memory.

His hand slipped down to your hip, holding you firmly against him: by this point he was so hard he was worried he was going to injure himself somehow.

Finally you woke up, your eyes fluttering open as your sleepy smile turned to a wide, flirtatious grin.

"This might be my favorite way ever to wake up," you informed him.

He chuckled softly, beginning to kiss along your shoulder. "Agreed."

His fingers moved down at a teasingly slow pace; you unabashedly opened your legs, hoping to egg him on. Thankfully, it worked. He started to suck a mark onto the back of your shoulder as he slipped his hand into your panties, instantly discovering how drenched you were and how swollen and sensitive your clit was.

“Oh you poor thing,” he grinned. “When’d you get so wet, angel?”

“It never stops around you,” you explained with a shiver.

It didn’t take much more until you were a begging mess, his fingers working their magic and making your whole body alight with energy.

"Bucky, please—" you whimpered.

"What do you need, angel?" he asked with only a hint of coyness shining through his tone.

"I just— I want more, please…"

"We've tried a lot of new things today," he reminded you. "And it was amazing. And I wondered what you would say if I told you I want to try something else…"

"Oh really?" you purred. "What did you have in mind?"

"This might not be the, uh, most hip language but… I want to make love to you."

Your eyes went a little wide. "Really, Bucky? I mean, you're sure you want me to be—"

"Yes, I'm so sure, I've never been more sure of anything. You've been so amazing and I can't think of a better person to have as my first."

I don't just want you to be my first, I want you to be my only, he added internally, too afraid to say it aloud.

"I wanna be your first, Bucky," you agreed softly, brushing your fingers through his hair. "I'm really— I'm honored you want it to be me. And also I'm very turned on right now."

He laughed and kissed you again, pulling you close. As his body settled between your legs, you revelled in how warm you felt— not hot or sweaty (yet), just warm, and safe, and comforted. He still gave you those butterflies in your stomach, sure, but for once that didn’t seem to just be a cute way of repackaging your anxiety.

With your panties pulled to your ankles and your shirt (which was, of course, actually his shirt that you’d stolen) tossed to the side, he kissed his way down your chest and stomach until his face was buried between your legs.

“Buck, I— fuck I thought you were gonna oh god just like that yes—”

“Wanted to return the favor first,” he explained, his words muffled.

“Didn’t anybody ever tell you it’s rude to talk with your mouth full?” you giggled.

He smiled but kept going, almost gentle at first but quickly finding a few favorite spots and stimulating them mercilessly.

You didn’t mean to pull his hair so hard but he didn’t seem to mind, moaning every time you forced him onto you harder. "Bucky, oh god, don't stop please!” you sobbed.

Of course he didn’t; he wanted you to come, he was a man on a mission and not much could stop him at this point. Just as he began to suck on your clit even harder than before— just hard enough to make the threat of pain tingle up your spine— he pressed two fingers into your opening. One little curl into your g-spot and you were gone, biting down on your lip as your body spasmed uncontrollably.

He moaned as he coaxed you through it; you tried to tap out but he went just a moment longer and for that one moment, you thought your body might just crumble into little pieces from the overwhelming pleasure.

Before you could even catch your breath, he was kissing you again. Your taste on his lips was divinely filthy.

“Need to be inside you,” he explained with a whisper as he started to take off his boxers.

“Please,” you sighed, too weak to even put a full sentence together.

Even with a very thorough warm-up, you couldn’t help but gasp as he pressed into you. Your walls fluttered and flexed as they made way for the intrusion, both of you moaning softly while you arched your back to take him deeper.

“Fuck, you feel incredible,” he whispered as his face buried into your neck. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders— you loved how broad and strong they were— and he pushed up from behind your knees to spread you open for him, the new angle forcing the head of his cock to press right into your spot.

“Fuck!” you cried out. He sat up slightly and looked a little concerned at first. “No, it’s good,” you reassured him, “it’s so good, Bucky, right there—”

He pulled back only to quickly push forward again, setting a pace that wasn’t quite rushed but was certainly a bit desperate. Even so, you were on the verge of begging for more, you needed him so badly.

“Harder, please,” you moaned. Okay, maybe you were a little past being on the verge.

“Is that how you like it? Rough?” he asked darkly.

“Maybe,” you grinned. “Is that how you like it?”

“I don’t know yet,” he responded, his grip on your legs tightening until you were almost tempted to struggle against him just to see if he was strong enough to hold you down, “but I like you telling me how to make you feel good.”

“Then fuck me,” you demanded through your teeth, moaning louder when he obeyed and began to pound into you. The slapping of skin filled the room, as did the revealing sound of your arousal, and it made your face burn even though you were pretty sure he didn’t mind at all.

You were so sensitive from the last time you came that you were already making quick progress towards the next. Didn’t help that your swollen clit was brushing against his cock every time it speared into you.

“You’re— fuck— you’re squeezin’ me, angel,” he hissed. “You gonna come already?”

You couldn’t even speak anymore, just nodding wildly. He leaned forward to kiss you and you were nearly folded in half as he kept his grip on your legs. You weren’t sure anything had been so deep inside you before; you were sure you had never made a sound like the one you made in that moment.

“Fuck, s’that good, huh?” he teased in reaction to the way you were nearly screaming already.

“God, you are the cockiest virgin ever,” you laughed, hoping you could delay the inevitable just a bit longer for the sake of your dignity. You tried to angle your body so he wouldn’t be so deep, so it would be so much, but he held you firm and fucked into you even harder.

“Ah ah ah,” he corrected with a smirk, “no running away, angel. Gonna make you come on my cock.”

“Oh fuck,” you whimpered, “fuck, Bucky, I’m close…”

“Me too,” he murmured back, kissing you deeply one more time. You hadn’t even imagined how perfect it would feel to come around him with his tongue still in your mouth, your moans blending with his, his fingers digging into your thighs while your nails were sure to leave marks on his back and shoulders. But even if you had tried to imagine how perfect it would feel, you couldn’t have ever come close. The moment you were tumbling over the edge, he was right there with you; you could feel him flexing against your walls as he came, and you were afraid if you let your eyes roll back like you so desperately wanted to, they’d get stuck there or something.

You just barely heard him murmur ‘angel’ as he kissed all down your neck. His body relaxed a little on top of you, though you still felt sensitive and tingly from where your bodies were joined.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” he admitted, looking down at you as his cheeks turned a little pink.

You couldn’t, though, and he sat up with a sigh as you smiled back up at him. He held your legs up as he pulled out, watching with wide eyes as his come leaked from your hole. You gasped when he reached down to push it back in with two fingers; your whole body jerked when he moved those fingers inside you and started to rub your g-spot again.

“Bucky, what are you—?” you asked breathlessly, but you were already subconsciously pushing back to ride his fingers.

"I wanna see you come one more time," he explained. "You just look so perfect when you do it— and it's the best feeling when I'm doing it to you."

“We can definitely agree on that,” you mumbled. He rubbed little circles over your spot, using his free hand to hold your hips down, forcing you to take all the sensation he was giving you. Knowing that his come was the lubricant for all this made your head spin. “F-fuck, right there,” you whimpered.

“I know,” he smiled. “I can tell you’re close again.”

It wasn’t so much that you were close than that you never got a chance to come down from the high of the last one.

“You’re so perfect, my perfect girl,” he purred, watching you squirm from the praise. “You wanna be my good girl, don’t you? You wanna come for me again?”

“Yes,” you groaned, “god, yes, Bucky—”

He pressed against you harder and your moan quickly shifted to a slightly-embarrassing choking noise. His fingers pumped into faster and faster and your sore walls burned but you still wanted more. He didn’t let up until you were tightening around him with another orgasm, this one burning brighter but shorter, taking all the energy from you at once. He watched your face as you came, loving the way you held your breath, the way your eyes fluttered shut, the way you bit down on your lip—

"Bucky— you said one more—" you whined in confusion when you realized his fingers were still moving, if a little slower, and his thumb was reaching up to press into your clit.

"I never said just one more…" he smirked.

"Fuck, I— I dunno if I can take it!" you sobbed, the sensation nearly too much to handle.

"Oh you can," he purred. "You're so strong, you're so good for me— I know you can. I know you can give me one more."

You literally squealed when he pulled out his fingers only to put his cock in you again. You hadn’t even realized he was still hard.

“Oh my god, Bucky!” you cried out, gripping the sheets for dear life.

"You wanna call out my name like you did when I wasn't around? I bet that's not all you did. I bet you begged, and pleaded, screamed for me to let you come. Am I right?"

You nodded feverishly; his laugh in response had just that hint of condescension, that edge of degradation. Even though you knew he wouldn't judge you for it, admitting it felt dirty in a delicious way.

“‘Cause you wanna be my good girl,” he posited.

“I— I am your good girl,” you stammered, feeling a little silly referring to yourself that way.

He laughed a little, still rubbing your clit as he fucked you hard and fast. “Yeah, you are, angel.”

The petname, even though you’d heard it a thousand times, was what sent you over the edge the last time. You nearly kicked him off you as the pleasure finally reached the point that you truly were at your limit, but thankfully he got the hint before that and pulled out, giving you a much needed break.

“Dear god,” you chuckled through your exhaustion, your eyes falling shut, “that was— you are— I can’t—”

“Was it good?” he asked softly as he laid beside you and pulled you into him.

Your eyes shot open again. “Was… was it good?” you repeated incredulously. “Buck, it was incredible. It was life-ruining. I thought your first time was going to be about you.”

“It was! Making you come four times is me spoiling myself,” he explained, kissing your shoulder. “What’s about you is me letting you shower first.”

“You aren’t gonna join me?” you asked coyly.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, angel,” he warned. “I think you need a rest.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” you grumbled disappointedly. The last thing you needed was to pass out in the shower from him doing that to you again. “Is it really a whole year until my next birthday?”

“Yeah, sadly that’s how those work,” he smiled.

“What about your birthday?”

“Not ‘til March.”

“...that means your half-birthday is just a week away,” you realized.

“So?”

“I think we should start celebrating those.”

He laughed a little. “You wanna get me a half-present?”

“Yeah,” you decided. “I think I’m gonna pay for half of your dinner. Then I’m gonna fuck you halfway to death.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x y/n #chubby!bucky x reader #chubby!bucky smut #chubby!bucky fluff

2K notes · View notes