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nickfowlerrr · 4 months ago

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something good and true - part 2

part one / part three / part four

pairing: mob boss!bucky barnes x reader

warnings (for all parts in whole): 18+ only. domestic violence. retelling of abuse and battery. minor character death mentioned. angst. sweet and protective bucky. fluff. not sure if this qualifies as a slow burn or not 👀 smut. there’s a happy ending! (as per usual)

words: 5k

notes: i’m so happy people are enjoying the first part, hopefully you’ll enjoy the rest too! lol thank you in advance for reading, i’d be happy to hear your thoughts! as always, comments and reblogs are welcome and so appreciated. 🩵

You wake up to the sound of your daily alarm going off, grumbling as you search your sheets for your phone. When you have a grasp on it, you press the ‘stop’ button and make yourself sit up. You reach for your mouth guard case on the night stand as you take out your night guard, putting it in its case and placing it down momentarily. You rub your eyes, sighing as you try and really wake up. You went to bed early last night, somehow slept longer than usual, and are still tired. Great.

You finally force yourself out of bed and get started on your usual morning routine.

It’s Valentine’s Day but you don’t have a place to be until tonight so you take your time, enjoying the pleasure of a slow morning knowing you don’t have to be at work at all today.

When you’re done getting ready in the bathroom you find yourself dilly dallying in the closet. You don’t know what you should wear. Would dressing up be weird for a dinner/crime confessional? Or would it be more rude to show up to the regal Barnes’ home in casual clothes?

Finally you decide to meet in the middle of the two. You grab your fitted long sleeve purple top, the asymmetric off the shoulder style upgrading the otherwise basic top without being too much, and look for your nice figure hugging pants.

You don’t dress right away, wanting to save the outfit for before you’re set to be picked up in case of a mess. In the meantime, you do your usual makeup routine and style your hair for the day. It’s getting close to noon and your stomach growls, reminding you you’ve yet to eat. You head to the kitchen, still in your pajamas, prepared to start on a quick lunch when you hear a knock on the door.

You freeze for a moment before you walk toward the door, completely unsure of who it could be. You aren’t expecting anyone and the only person you’d be worried to answer the door to would be nothing more than a spector today.

You look out the peephole and see a delivery woman. With a quirked brow, you unlock the door and pull it open.

“Hello,” you greet.

“How are you, sweetie,” she returns with a bright smile. “Got a nice little delivery for you today,” she gestures to the long box she’s rested against the wall. “Just need a signature.”

You smile and take the pen from her, signing quickly, and probably illegibly.

“I’ll tell you, this is probably the biggest box for a bouquet that I’ve delivered since I started,” she laughs, “someone must really want you as their valentine.”

You laugh in return, trying to hide your confusion. There’s flowers in that box?

“Thank you,” you say as you hand her pen back.

“Have a nice Valentine’s,” she says as she turns and walks back toward her truck.

“You, too,” you say after her.

You turn your attention to the box and are careful as you bring it inside. You get it on the table and open it up.

You’re stunned at the bouquet that it holds. You never would’ve guessed the contents of this if she hadn’t mentioned it. The company name is on the inside of the box along with instructions for removing the bouquet without damaging the flowers. You follow the guidance after removing the glass vase packed safely next to the flowers.

It’s gorgeous, and surely expensive. A bouquet this beautifully arranged, with these varieties of flowers and fillers, you don’t know a whole lot about flower prices but you know arrangements like these cost a pretty penny, especially when they’re this size.

You don’t have to do much to the bouquet but again follow the care instructions as you put them in their vase.

At the very bottom of the box is a small card, it appears to have fallen from its stick that still resides among the stems. You can think of only one person who would be sending flowers, but you’re still a little struck when you read his initials on the card.

Forgive the surprise, but it’d be a shame for a woman as special as you to not be gifted on Valentine's.

I’ll see you tonight, sweetheart.

- J.B.B

You try and quell the butterflies taking flight, try and tamper down the renewed nerves, but… He sent you flowers.

You bite your lip, not wanting to break a full smile. It was nice. But was it too much, and too soon? And no way you should feel this giddy with everything you’ve been going through. You don’t even think you’ve really cried since that day. You know better than to bury emotions, to try and move on without dealing with them. With the - you hate to call it what it is - trauma.

The truth is you don’t feel traumatized. You just don’t like to think about him. You don’t like to think about the pain, or the bruises, or the blood, or the knife. You don’t like remembering the fact that you saw a man die.

You shake the thoughts away, like you always do. No.

He’s ruined enough in your life, you think. You won’t let him ruin this new found light, too.

6:30 and you’re only now changing out of your pjs. You put on your pants and your top, checking in the mirror that it looks the way you envisioned it would. You slip on your black heeled mules and touch up your hair and makeup before putting on some simple jewelry. This isn’t a date, you remind yourself. This is dinner and the truth.

Your heart races at the thought of having to recall that day but you ignore it. It’ll be good for you, finally telling someone the whole of it.

A knock on your door startles you and you check the time on your phone to find it’s fifteen til.

You do one last check before turning off the lights and coming out into the front room, shutting the other lights off on your way. You double check the peephole and are reassured of Bucky’s presence on the other side. You have your phone in one hand and your small purse in the other, keys dangling from a finger as you open the door to him.

“Hi,” you muster up the greeting as you try to keep from staring at him. He looks sharp and you suddenly feel a little underdressed. Maybe a dress was the right way to go… You want to compliment him but then you’re unsure he’s dressed for you specifically.

“Hello,” he returns, a small smirk on his lips. “You look lovely.”

“Oh,” you look down at yourself, “thank you.” In the same moment, you remember the flowers and repeat yourself, looking to meet his eye. “And thank you, for the flowers, I- they’re beautiful.”

“Not more than you,” he says smoothly, “but I’m glad you liked them. Are you ready to go?”

“Yes,” you nod, stepping out. You turn to lock the door and slip the keys and your phone into your purse before turning to him again.

Bucky holds his arm out for you to take and you falter for just a split second before you do. He leads you to his car, the same blacked out Jaguar as before, and helps you in.

You try to settle in and buckle yourself before he gets in on his side.

He starts the car and after adjusting the temperature, takes off to his place.

“You like Italian?” he asks out of the blue a couple minutes into the quiet ride.

You glance over at him, “Uhm, yeah. I do.”

“The chef is making spaghetti and meatballs for dinner,” he says with a side glance to you. “Is that alright for you?”

You raise your brows unexpectedly, the question surprising you, “Yes. That ah, sounds good,” you nod.

He looks over at you again, one hand on the wheel as he drives smoothly. You clear your throat nervously.

“How’s your day been?” you ask, your nerves clear in your voice despite your attempt to hide them.

His lips quirk in a half smile, huffing a laugh through his nose.

“Relatively uneventful, until now. Had lunch with an old friend, made some business calls but aside from that I tried to keep my day clear.”

“Oh,” you hum, suddenly feeling bad about having to intrude on his day - though he was the one who didn’t give much of an option at all.

“Truthfully, I’ve just been looking forward to seeing you.”

Your eyes start slowly looking up from your lap as you take in his words until you turn to meet his gaze.

“Me?”

“You.”

You swallow thickly and avert your eyes, you’re once again at a loss for words.

“Sorry,” he chuckles softly, “was that too much?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don't think I’ve made myself or my intentions clear enough,” he says, turning onto a desolate street and driving up what you now see is a long, winding driveway. His home comes into view and your eyes widen. It’s like Wayne Manor. The Neo-Georgian style is oddly fitting for the man beside you.

You’re brought back to the conversation as Bucky pulls into the large garage and parks the car. You look at him fully once more, his bright blue eyes already on you.

“I don’t want you feeling scared or nervous, or like you’re in any kind of trouble here. Tonight is really more selfishly motivated on my part than anything. I just wanna talk over dinner. In part to get the whole story about what happened, but also just to be able to have dinner with you without any prying eyes. I’m sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable, I should’ve made that clear to you before.”

“Yeah,” you breathe, “you should’ve.” You breathe deeply but steadily as you look at him, his eyes never leaving yours, “I would’ve worn a dress.”

His lips twitch as he blinks at you; he lets out a titter as he opens his door and gets out, walking around to get your own.

He helps you out of the car and takes your arm in his, “You look beautiful no matter what.”

Your skin burns at his compliment and you can’t help your admiration. You don’t think you’ve ever been treated so nicely before.

“You’re like a real life gentleman,” you muse shyly.

“My mom didn’t raise me any other way,” he says, leading you into the house.

The aroma of marina and garlic fills your nose as you walk through the space and you suddenly feel very hungry.

“I can give you the tour later, but for now, this is the entertainment room,” he gestures to the room as you continue walking through, coming to a door and going out into the hall. “Bathroom,” he points to the door on the left of you. “Kitchen,” he points to the hinged doors the smell is emanating from, continuing down the hall to the open space it lead to. “This is the entrance and sitting room, and on the other side, just there,” he points across the way, “is the dining room. And there’s another bathroom down on the left, too.”

“You have a beautiful home,” you compliment, eyes wandering the space. It’s really like something out of a magazine or a movie. Funny to imagine people actually live in gorgeous homes like this.

“Dinner shouldn’t be too long,” Bucky starts but pauses when he sees the contemplation on your face. “What is it?” he asks.

You look to him, brows furrowed as you think before you fix your face. “Uhm, can we just talk about it now,” you swallow the lump in your throat. “Get it all out and over with.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Please.”

“Sure,” he says after assessing you for a long second, leading you to the couch to sit down.

You set your purse on the coffee table and take a seat, hands trailing down the fabric of your pants as you smooth them out of habit.

Bucky sits down beside, but leaves some space between you and him.

You aren’t sure how to start.

“Uhm, what is it that you want to know again?”

“Everything,” he says firmly, but without being too harsh, keeping his eyes on you. “What happened, how it started, how it ended. The whole story.”

“Right. Okay, well uhm, it started I guess with us getting together… it didn’t last all that long, really. Freddy and I were seeing each other last year for about six months before I ended things. Or, tried to, at least. He was moving really fast and I didn’t have all that much interest in taking our relationship further than just casually dating. We had an argument about moving in together that ended with him… slapping me,” you force the confession, “we were at his place and I just grabbed my bag and keys and left. I thought that’d be the end of it, I said as much on my way out, but he didn’t wanna accept that, I guess. And so the next six months he was…stalking me?” You weren’t sure what qualified. “I dont know, he’d just always show up places, act like nothing was wrong, kept up a front until we were alone. And I was stupid, I didn’t even bother trying to tell anyone we weren’t together after the first few times. No one believed me, anyway. So, outside looking in it seemed like a typical on again off again situation.

It got to the point where I just accepted whatever it was that was happening. I didn’t really know what else to do. How to stop it. He’d show up at my job, be waiting for me in my car sometimes. I didn’t have much of a choice of letting him in, or driving him home. He’d always end up inside, one way or another, and I… didn’t know when to shut up,” you laugh humorlessly. “I’d tell him to leave, that we weren’t together. He was crazy and wasn’t welcome anywhere around me. I’d yell and scream and the fighting was just, god, maddening. I felt like I was going crazy half the time. It didn’t escalate every time, but when it did,” you wince without noticing as you mindlessly wring your hand. “Anyway, about a month before the last time, I had found him in my house and I was just exhausted. I looked at him while he sat at the counter eating a sandwich and I asked him to leave. I told him there wasn’t anything here for him. That I didn’t love him, and I never would. And that he didn’t love me, either, and deep down that he knew it. Which is all true,” you add, chancing a glance at Bucky who is still next to you, listening intently, eyes locked on you. “I mean, we’d been seeing each other pretty casually for six months, and I knew after the first that we weren’t going anywhere. I thought we were just having fun, I just don’t know why he thought anything different…

But, uhm, yeah anyway, he actually listened that time. There wasn’t an argument, he just threw his food in the garbage, and, well, he pushed past me on his way out but he didn’t look back. Slammed the door on his way and I, I really thought that that was finally it. I thought maybe he’d moved on or something, I don’t-“ you pause, taking a needed breath as you shake your head. “I was wrong though. Because two weeks later he showed up again. Out of the blue. I was in the kitchen, making dinner because my dad was coming over to see if he could fix my heater later. I thought maybe it was him at the door so I didn’t even bother to check before I opened it. And when I did, and it was him, I immediately tried to close it. He looked… I don’t know. Bad. Like, really bad.” You can feel your eyes prick with the beginning of tears as your voice tightens at the memory. “I’d seen him in some pretty bad ways, but I never,” you swallow hard, ”I’d never felt that scared of him before. Even with the pushing and slapping and all that he’d put me through me before. This was just like, unhinged. The look in his eyes when he stared at me,” you force a breath at the recalling.

“I wasn’t able to close the door on him, he shoved it open, didn’t even say anything, just shoved me as hard as he could. I fell against the side table I had by the door, caught myself. I was freaking out, telling him to stop, to leave, and he wouldn’t.

I tried to get to the kitchen to grab my phone and call my dad but he caught me by the back of my shirt and yanked me back. He was going on and on about how stupid I was. How I ruined everything. Calling me every expletive under the sun. He shoved me forward and I went straight into the counter, that hurt,” you monologue, recalling the feeling sharply. “He kicked me while I was leaning against the counter but I got my phone and called my dad. I didn’t even wait for him to answer, I just put my phone back on the counter and hoped Freddy hadn’t noticed. Hoped my dad picked up. He kicked me again, in my back and I kinda fell into the chair there. Was holding it because I didn’t wanna be on the ground but he’d knocked the wind out of me and my chest hurt so badly I wasn’t really able to do anything but try and force myself to breathe. And then I felt him closer, he kneeled down, still over me but more on my level and he just, uh, he smashed my head into that back side of the counter. I tried to elbow him away but he did it again. And then I don’t know what I did,” you try to recall, “but I did something that hurt hit, must’ve hit him somewhere somehow because he backed off while calling me a stupid bitch. The whole time I’m like grunting and trying to be as loud as I can just praying my dad answered and could hear and would be on his way.” You have to stop for a second, regaining control of your voice. You’ve almost forgotten that Bucky is beside you as you narrate what you remember.

“I pushed myself up then, got to my feet, but he was already standing too. He shoved me back and back until I hit the wall just next to the kitchen. And then his hands were on my throat and he was choking me. Just forcing me into the wall over and over. I was clawing at him to let me go. I had to shut my eyes because the look on his face,” you cringe. “I kind of stopped listening to what he was saying at one point because it was just an endless stream of blame and anger. I couldn’t breathe,” you squeeze your hand so tight as you speak, “and then I thought, just try to kick him. And so I did. I kneed him, actually, right between his legs and he let go and I kinda dropped. My throat hurt and my head hurt and I was coughing trying to get a good breath in. And then, I didn’t even notice it happening, didn’t even try to dodge it or deflect it, but he just hit me right in the face. Like, boom.

I’d never been punched in the face before,” you chuckle dryly. “Things get blurry around this point. But I remember falling to my hands and knees at some point. He stepped on my hand and kicked my wrist and that hurt like a bitch. Everything was hurting actually. The part I really remember is the kicking. He kicked me in my ribs and I kinda collapsed on my side. Then he kicked me in my back. A few times. Just, as hard as he possibly could it felt like. He started to like, pace around me, and he was still talking but honestly, I have no idea what he was saying. I started to go out of it and I guess he didn’t like that because I remember hearing his voice get louder and then he kicked me again right in the stomach. I was curling up like getting into fetal position basically just trying to not get more hurt. But he just kept kicking me. Over, and over,” your voice shakes as your voice gets breathy, “and over.” Your eyes are misty with unshed tears welling as you stare at your wringing hands. It’s starting to hurt and as if Bucky himself could feel it, he gently reaches to take hold of your hand, stilling your anxious self soothing and giving it the gentlest squeeze, waiting for you to continue as he listens. You glance quickly his way, but don’t look at him. Your eyes instead focusing on your hand in his. You’re not sure you can look at him. You just need to finish telling him what you know about what happened, and then you can face him again.

“We were in front of the kitchen when my dad came in. The door was open, so he got in right away and, most of this is blacked out for me, but I remember hearing my dad saying my name, and,” you feel the tears begin to slip as you sigh in that same relief, “and I thought, thank god,” you titter tightly. “It’s okay now. I’m gonna be okay.” You reach with one hand to swipe at the tears on your cheeks as you sniffle a bit. “There were a lot of loud sounds, I didn’t see anything but I could hear them. I think when my dad first came in he just charged right for Freddy to get him away from me. And my dad, he just saw red. I don’t think anyone would’ve been able to stop him once he got his hands on Freddy. He had been listening to everything that was happening as he drove to my house so I mean, I can only imagine what was going through his head. And then seeing me like that…” you take a pause.

“I really think he saved my life,” you say, finally looking up to Bucky. He looks tense, jaw squared and something dark swimming in his eyes before he recognizes you looking at him - immediately trying to soften his hard gaze. You know innately that he isn’t angered by you, but rather, what happened. And the delicate way he still holds your hand assures you of that.

“And, well, they ended up in the kitchen, and considering only the few defensive marks on my dad after everything, I think he was just pummeling him. I finally got myself to try and get up and made it closer to the kitchen. I wanted to make sure my dad was alright, and right when I saw them, I saw Freddy trying to get the knife I had been using that was still on the counter. My dad noticed, hit him again, and then grabbed it himself. And then, he, uhm,” you try to clear your throat, “he stabbed him. A few times,” you add, turning closer to Bucky without realizing. “And I guess I don’t really have the stomach for that stuff because after that I just passed out. Scared the hell out of my dad. He saw me and immediately left Freddy, let him fall. Let him… die. I really don’t think he meant to, necessarily. But I know he didn’t really care either way if he did or not. Which is, ya know, I’m not mad or upset at my dad for what he did. At all. I don’t think I would’ve been able to do it myself, and at the end of the day it was either gonna be him or one of us.” You bite your lip as you fidget with Bucky’s hand. You take a moment, taking a breath before getting back to the story. It comes a little easier now, like the hardest part of remembering has passed.

“I woke up in my old bedroom at my parents house, my mom was there. I could tell she had been worried. She told me my dad brought me home and that he went to go clean up and ‘get rid of the trash’. You know, take the trash out and all that,” you allude, giving Bucky a look, eyeing him and hoping to lighten a little bit of the tension around him. He lets the smallest hint of a smile tug on his lips as he stares at you.

“I know,” he confirms, then waits for you to go on. You blink away from him, playing with the silver signet ring on his pinky.

“I really don’t know what he did with him,” you tell him. “He wouldn’t tell me. He didn’t want me to know, or to worry about it. He said if anything happened, if police got involved, he didn’t want me to have any part in it.”

“Good man.”

You smile at Bucky’s words and nod slightly. “Yeah. He is,” you look back at Bucky, hoping to explain better that the trouble this whole thing caused wasn’t his fault. “He was just trying to take care of me, keep me safe. So, I know Freddy worked in your organization, and if his…going missing, caused problems for you, I’m sorry. It was neve-“

“Woah, sweetheart,” Bucky cuts you off almost right away, brows furrowed, “That was never an issue. Freddy had been a problem for business for a while, actually. My only regret is not having handled him myself, and sooner;” he says, his voice low and his agitation at the regret clear in his tone and in his eyes. “I owe your father a thank you.”

Another relief washes over you. You had wanted to believe before when he said you and your dad had nothing to worry about, but hearing that now, you fully do. Especially seeing the raw emotions swimming in the blues of his eyes. He means what he says, you know it.

“The only reason I bothered to look into his absence at all was because of the information and money he had in his car the last time he had a job. We got footage of your dad from that night, parking and abandoning the car, a couple weeks after I first met you. We got what we really needed then, got the car and found the inventory. Thought maybe he was going rogue, went into hiding or something, but then, some of my guys actually found him - and I figured we should know what went down if we wanted to make sure getting rid of him for good would be the end of it. And I knew, somehow, this had you all caught up in it. You’re not the best liar,” he smirks teasingly before he gets serious again, “and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to make sure you were okay. And now I know, so it's done. I promise you aren’t ever gonna have to worry or think about that scumbag again.” He moves his hand from yours and instead takes both in his, holding them as he looks at you sincerely. “I know that wasn’t easy for you to have to talk about, but I appreciate you telling me. I’m sorry you ever had to go through any of that. None’a that should’ve happened. And you deserve a hell of a lot better than the likes of him, even at his best, ya know that?”

You look at him, a little taken aback by his sincerity and care. People talk a lot about Bucky Barnes, but clearly not many know him - not like this. You’ve seen the exterior, the hardened, cocky front. But this caring, attentive and protective side is something you’d never have expected. Though it’s more than welcome. You warm at his words but don’t answer, instead looking down at your hands for a second before he takes his back. He lifts his touch to your chin and tilts until your eyes meet his again, a breath caught in your throat when you do.

“You do know that, don’t you, doll?” He repeats, the softness you find yourself growing ever fonder of back in his intent gaze as he seems to try and peer into your soul.

You can’t get your tongue to work but your hand moves to hold his wrist gently and you manage to nod your head. Then your body seems to move without thinking. You pull his hand away and he lets you, but you don’t drop your touch, instead guiding his hand to his side. You then find yourself moving into him without a word. You couldn’t resist the urge to hug him if you’d wanted to. Your arms go around him as you lean into him, his own arms readily coming around you in return. Your eyes fall shut at the feeling the warmth of him sends through you, your body relaxing, the tension that had been coursing through you relieving more and more.

“Thank you,” you murmur before pulling away. “And sorry,” you breathe a slightly embarrassed laugh as you look at him.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he says, a hint of a smile curving his lips, one arm still around your waist. You aren’t sure he even realizes and truthfully, you don’t mind at all. In fact, you like the feeling.

A moment passes as you both just look at one another until you hear his name and his hand falls fully on your hip.

“Mr. Barnes,” a man speaks as he enters from the hall in the direction of the kitchen. You both give him your attention as you turn to look at him. “Oh, excuse me, my apologies,” he smiles at you as you catch his eye. “Dinner will be served shortly, and I can bring your salads out momentarily if you’re ready.”

“Thank you, Grant,” Bucky dismisses before turning his full attention back to you. “Are you hungry?”

You turn to Bucky and nod, a soft, small smile pulling at your lips, “Very,” you answer honestly.

His touch slips away as he stands but he holds his hand out for you to take. You do just that and let him lead you to the dining room.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x curvy!reader #mob boss!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #mob bucky barnes

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cheapshrimpysheep · 6 months ago

Note

Hiii!! is it okay if I request a comfort(?) scenario/headcanons with Vil, Idia, Malleus and Lilia where a female protagonist feels self-conscious about having stretch marks and/or cellulite, thanks (Sorry if it's not spelled well, English is not my native language)

COMMENTS: So... even though I myself am a woman, I genuinely never saw stretch marks or cellulite as something bad or ugly, and I still don't. So maybe making the characters share the same vision as me would be accurate? The only exception to complete indifference is Vil, but not in the way you might be thinking.

Btw, I didn't see any point in writing this in a context other than an already advanced relationship given the topic. Fortunately, the 4 characters are 18 years or older so it doesn't end up being... you know, too weird.

I explain at the end why I couldn't write anything for Malleus or Lilia. But despite that, I hope you and all like what I managed to write. ❤️

CHARACTERS: Vil Schoenheit / Idia Shroud

TAGS: Fluff; Fem!Reader; Comfort; In a Relationship; Suggestive(?)

WORD COUNT: An average of 580 words per character

CONTEXT: I don't think it would make sense for two people to have this kind of intimate conversation outside of a romantic or even sexual relationship. So in that situation, he and you would be in a relationship.

This was an insecurity of yours from the beginning. After all, your boyfriend was none other than Vil Schoenheit. It would be worrying enough if he were a normal model, but he's not only a super model but one of the biggest in all of Twisted Wonderland.

He had already noticed that since you started dating you seemed more worried and less confident about your appearance and that was when he said to you:

“I am the one who needs to be perfect, not you. If I wanted to date a model I could do it, but my standards in romantic relationships are others. Different from some of my colleagues in this field. I will always help you to further improve your image if you wish and feel comfortable with it. Please don't see this as me wanting you to change your appearance, but as an attempt to make you as beautiful on the outside as you are on the inside.” He pauses for a second. “However, for some reason, there's something that bothers me about the possibility of making you start living the same lifestyle as me.”

But he would only get the answer to why that bothered him later.

“The truth is: you are my escape. I don't feel the pressure to be perfect with you because... you know I'm not and yet you look at me with more admiration than anyone else. You are my escape from the superficial and futile parts of my professional life. When you live in these types of environments, you start to lose track of what really matters and what really does you good. Thinking about you being swallowed up by this... and losing your genuine smile... because of me... I can't allow it! Please know that no opinion about your appearance matters other than your own. And it wasn't just that that made me fall in love.”

This may have made you feel more comfortable and confident about your appearance again, but as the relationship became more serious and you became more intimate, eventually your problem with stretch marks and cellulite began to affect your mood again.

At home, Vil had massage sessions from time to time not only to help him relax but also for other healthy effects it had on his body. He thought that now that he was dating you, maybe it would be interesting for him to buy massage products and for you to start having these sessions with each other.

“You deserve a massage probably even more than I do.” He tells you, referring to the hardships you go through with Grim and the others.

And that's when he realizes from your hesitation that something about your appearance has bothered you again. He asks you to tell him and that you can trust him. After all, if you couldn't, what kind of boyfriend would he be? And you end up talking about your stretch marks and cellulite.

“I see.” He says understandingly. “I've never had them myself, but I've met many women in the beauty industry who talk about it to each other. Not to mention the advertisements for products for it. Do you remember what I told you when we first started dating and you felt less confident about your appearance? I am the one who needs to be perfect, not you. Furthermore, from what I understand, these marks are usually found on areas around the stomach, hips, breasts, and thighs.” He looks at you seductively. “You don't really think I would have any kind of criticism if you gave me the honor of seeing these parts of your body, do you? Why don't you let me give you that massage? I'll show you what I truly find beautiful about you.”

At first you didn't even think about it. It was only when the relationship started to get more serious and you started to sleep together from time to time that you started to worry.

Especially when Idia started having less of a problem walking around you shirtless. And giving hints about how he would like to see you wearing his shirts, without pants.

One day he says he wants to acknowledge the elephant in the room, but instead of asking why you hide your body so much, he asks if you still don't consider him worthy of seeing his girlfriend comfortably sexy.

“You never hid the fact that you like to see me shirtless.” He says while playing some game on the computer. “I also want to see you like that. Not necessarily shirtless, that's another level, but like, you know I don't like to embody the confident handsome guy who likes to walk around with little clothing on." His hair starts to turn hot pink.” But... I like how you look at me when I do. And what you say. Which I never understood ‘cause I don't even have good physics. But you do! You would be that character that every player simps for.” He sinks into his chair. “But I understand, getting that kind of look from me is disgusting...”

You may have your insecurities, but he has them too. And finally you feel the need and the comfort enough to reveal to him that that isn’t the problem, that you would also like him to find you hot as you find him and that the problem is your marks.

“What marks? Like scars? Don't tell me you have cool battle scars, like doesn't that make a person even sexier?”

You say you're not talking about scars, but stretch marks and cellulite.

“... Yah... sorry, I think I rolled a natural 1 in intelligence for this. What was that again?”

You say they are marks, irregularities and dimples in the skin and that he can search them on the internet. He does that.

“It says that these are natural things that don't do any harm. But they can impact self-image.” He researches a little more. “Wait! Are you trying to tell me that you find these strips and irregularities ugly enough to the point that you have to hide them? THIS?” He smiles mockingly “Oh no! How horrible! Your skin looks like... skin! What a tragedy!”

He will be very happy if you can laugh with him.

“As if I would even notice that. It says here that these marks are usually found on areas around the stomach, hips, breasts, and thighs. Do you really think that if I saw these parts of your body it would be little stripes and dimples that would catch my attention?” The pink in his hair becomes more intense. “I may be a shut-in but don't lump me in with those worms who define their standards based on adult videos. I can assure you that's not what you'll have to worry about if you take your clothes off in front of me.”

He finally looks at you with a seductive look and smiles confidently when he sees that you are flustered.

I really really really tried to imagine scenarios with Malleus or Lilia, but I couldn't think of anything very meaningful.

Malleus wouldn't understand the problem even if you tried to explain it to him because... it doesn't make sense to him. They're just marks. He also has marks, like, on his forehead. Is there something wrong with this?

And Lilia would just laugh for you thinking this is a problem and just tell you to forget about it.

They wouldn't understand, because it wouldn't make any difference to them at all. And that's it.

With Vil and Idia I was able to think of something because they are, like, from this generation, and because one is in the beauty industry and the other is, probably, chronically online, they can see where your insecurity comes from. But for someone like Malleus or Lilia, this type of insecurity has no basis whatsoever. I really don't know what to write with them.

Sorry. 🥺

If you dropped in here out of the blue and want to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

#3K followers #3K followers milestone #Twisted Wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst imagines #twst fluff #Twisted Wonderland Fluff #twst requests #Twisted Wonderland requests #requests #Vil Schoenheit #Vil Schoenheit x Reader #Idia Shroud #Idia Shroud x Reader

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spnhunter4life · 7 months ago

Text

Good Morning

Summary: Ridoc is dying to share the latest gossip he's just discovered about a certain squadmate or two.

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: none

A/N: Hello everyone! Sorry in advance for the somewhat lengthy note here. Don't feel obligated to read the whole thing. So, I'm back and writing again! Not only is this my first fic back after nearly 6 months, but it's my first Fourth Wing fic! It is also my first time writing for anything other than Supernatural. After finishing these books I did the only logical thing and started searching out fanfiction to cope with the very real Fourth Wing hangover I was dealing with, and I was a little disappointed that there aren't more Liam fics out there since he is by far my favorite character. So I guess this is me, getting a start on putting more Liam fics out into the world. You're welcome? Maybe? Hopefully? Anyway, this fic is mostly just a lot of banter between the squad. Writing this kind of friend dynamic doesn't come super easily to me, but I'm actually pretty happy with how it turned out, so I hope you enjoy it too! (Also, big thank you to anyone who actually read this whole thing!)

Masterlist

“Good morning!” Ridoc chirped with the biggest, most knowing grin on his face I’d ever seen. I glared daggers at him as I took my seat at the table next to Violet, Liam setting his plate down and sitting next to me.

His cheerful greeting was widely ignored, acknowledged only by Sawyer who managed little more than a grunt in reply.

Undeterred by this lackluster response, Ridoc continued cheerfully, “It is a great morning, isn’t it? What do you think, Rhi?”

I continued my glaring, but Liam merely rolled his eyes.

“I think it would be better if you weren’t being so loud,” Rhiannon, who had the misfortune of sitting next to him, grumbled.

“See? Rhiannon agrees,” Ridoc continued, either not listening to her answer or just ignoring it in favor of his obvious goal. “What about you, Violet? Having a good morning?”

Violet looked at Ridoc a little warily, catching on to his tone. “I suppose so,” she agreed.

Sawyer, who was also catching on, began to look suspiciously around the room before focusing back on our table. “What’s going on, Ridoc?” He asked.

“Hmm? Oh, nothing,” Ridoc replied in a tone that was far from casual. “But since you ask, you know who I hear is having a particularly good morning?” That knowing smile was back, but toned down into more of a smirk than an all out grin.

“Ridoc,” I warned since my glaring evidently hadn’t made my point.

“I heard Sam saying he saw Jesse coming out of Avery’s room this morning.”

I felt the tension leave my shoulders and everyone else rolled their eyes.

“That’s old news,” Sawyer said.

“Doesn’t mean it’s not a great morning for them,” Ridoc countered.

Conversation seemingly over, I turned to Violet.

“Hey, are you still available to help me study for that history test tonight?” I asked her.

“Yeah, of course,” she immediately agreed. “I’ve got some useful tips to help you memorize-”

“You know who else is having a great morning?” Ridoc cut in. My glare returned full force and I kicked him under the table. He yelped and Sawyer looked curiously between us.

“Seriously, what’s going on?” He asked.

“Ridoc caught me kissing Y/N this morning and apparently has nothing better to do than gossip about it,” Liam said, cutting off the ensuing battle of wills and drama before it could really start. Everyone gaped at him. I saw slightly squinted eyes and tilted heads as if they were replaying his words, sure they’d heard him wrong.

“Wait. Seriously?” Rhiannon was the one to break the silence, a grin slowly forming on her face.

I shot Liam a half hearted betrayed look and sighed. “Yes, really!” Ridoc said excitedly before I could say the exact same thing, albeit in a much less enthusiastic tone. It’s not that I didn’t want them to know, it’s that I didn’t want them to know yet. The truth was, we’d been together for just over a week now, and while I was loving it, I wasn’t ready to make the best thing I had going public knowledge to be gossiped about.

“You know how Liam’s been giving Y/N sparring lessons before breakfast?” He asked. While I hadn’t been performing poorly on the mat by any stretch of the imagination, I still had lots of room for improvement and had asked Liam to help me. Those lessons, those quiet times we had together with no one else around were what finally pushed us together. Turns out we’d both been pining for quite some time.

“Yeah,” Sawyer said, a not so subtle push for more information.

“Well I was up early this morning and decided I’d go see if they could use my help.” This earned a snort from Rhi. “Anyway,” he continued, brushing off the wordless comment about the state of his own fighting skills, “I walked into the room and, what do you know? Turns out ‘training’ was just code for making out.”

“It was not!” I objected, a little too loudly. Several heads turned our direction and I felt my face heat. “He’s really been helping me,” I continued in a quieter voice. Liam, who was usually my go to for help in an argument of any kind, was apparently too busy being pleased with himself to back me up. I could see him fighting the smug smile threatening to take over his face. I fought the urge to roll my eyes again.

“So was this a heat of the moment, one time thing, or what happened? You know we need details!” Violet prompted.

“Heat of the moment?” I asked, eyeing Liam as I remembered his arms around me as he encouraged me to break his hold. His eyes heated as he remembered too. “Yes. One time thing? No.”

“So how long has this been going on for?” Rhi demanded.

“Barely more than a week,” Liam answered. “And we were going to tell you. We just wanted to keep it to ourselves for a little bit.”

“You know what? I don’t even care that you didn’t tell us,” Violet assured us. “I’m just so happy to see you two finally admitting you’re into each other.”

“Yeah,” Rhi agreed. “To be honest, all the obvious staring and longing looks were getting a little old. I was about ready to step in and do something about it.”

“Like what?” I asked warily. She wasn’t one to hold back or do things the easy, gentle way, so if she truly had been planning something, then I’m glad we beat her to the punch.

“I don’t know. Kiss Liam to make you jealous. Find someone dumb enough to kiss you to make Liam jealous. Ridoc, maybe.”

“Hey!” Ridoc protested at being called dumb, but it was a token protest at best. We all knew he would’ve done it with very little prompting.

“Get a ridiculous, teenage version of truth or dare going and either have you kiss each other or force you to admit your feelings,” she continued. “Or maybe just beat you both around the head and tell you how oblivious you were both being.”

“My money’s on the last option,” Sawyer muttered, loudly enough that we all heard him. I was inclined to agree. The other options she’d listed were not really her style. She preferred a more direct approach.

“Well, luckily for us, there will be no beating necessary,” Liam said.

Ridoc grinned. “Au contraire, my friend. It sounds like some beating was very necessary. Unless you’re going to change your mind and tell me that training was just an excuse to make out after all.”

I huffed in exasperation and Liam shook his head, a fond smile on his face.

“If all we were doing was making out, why would we even come up with an excuse? Why would we not just spend the night together? It would be a lot simpler,” I pointed out.

“It would be simpler, wouldn’t it?” That ridiculous grin was still firmly plastered on his face. A quick look around the table confirmed that the rest of our friends were wearing similar smiles.

“Something to keep in mind,” Liam chuckled. “But in the meantime, I think you’ll all be quite impressed with Y/N’s improvements at our next squad training session tomorrow night.”

“Oh yeah?” Violet asked with a sly grin. “Been putting her through her paces, have you?”

Ridoc choked on his water and started violently coughing to expel it from his lungs. Rhiannon thumped him on the back as she snickered.

Liam’s eyes sparked in surprise and then the corner of his mouth quirked up in a rarely seen – and unfairly attractive – mischievous grin. “Why, Violet? You thinking about joining us?” I could practically see the snarky retort forming in her mind, but just before she could voice it, Liam continued. “I’m a little preoccupied with Y/N, of course, but I could always ask Xaden to help you out.”

Violet turned red at the mention of the wingleader.

“Yes, Violet,” I grinned. “You do love seeing him without a shirt on.” I couldn’t help but reference the way she had openly stared at him yesterday while he and Garrick sparred.

“Oh please,” Rhi scoffed. “As if we’ve never seen you ogling Mairi when his shirt’s off.”

Liam turned a surprised look on me, eyebrow raised in question. I shrugged. There was no point hiding it from him anymore. “Guilty as charged.”

Liam’s smile turned back to smug and I rolled my eyes. “Oh, don’t give me that look. It’s not exactly news to you that you’re attractive.”

“And that means I’m not supposed to like knowing that you’ve been looking?” He challenged. Then he leaned in to whisper in my ear. “Or are you telling me it doesn’t do something to you when you catch me looking at you that way?”

My face felt like it was on fire with how quickly the blood rushed to it. I whipped my head around to stare at him incredulously, surprised he would make such a comment right in front of our friends. They hadn’t heard him of course, but their knowing smirks said enough about their ability to guess at what had been said.

“I thought we were teasing Violet now,” I managed to choke out. Liam’s thumb rubbed soothingly over my knee in silent apology, but the gleam in his eye told me he wasn’t sorry for making the comment, only that there were other people around.

“Her infatuation with Riorson is old news. This is much more interesting,” Ridoc answered.

“Interesting or not, if we’re going to make it to Battle Brief on time, we’d better get going,” Sawyer informed us. I glanced around the room and realized he was right. The morning’s usual mass exit was starting as everyone hurried to make it to class. We all stood up and followed them.

“Seriously, though,” Sawyer said, dropping back to walk beside us for a moment. “I’m happy for you two.” There were echoes of agreement from the other three walking directly ahead of us.

“Thanks,” Liam and I answered at the same time.

This day hadn’t started out quite how I wanted, what with our friends finding out about us, but I realized it wasn’t such a bad thing. A weight I hadn’t even realized was there was lifted off of my chest with the relief of no longer having to keep a secret from our squadmates.

I couldn’t seem to keep the smile off my face the whole way to Battle Brief. When I joined the rider’s quadrant, I was prepared for hard work and sacrifice and spending my days miserable and alone. Instead, I had a wonderful group of friends that would do anything for me. I was lucky enough to be in a relationship with the most incredible man I’d ever met. And I was happy, I realized. Happier than I’d been in a very long time. Maybe ever.

I reached for Liam’s hand under the table. He entwined our fingers without question, and I knew he would hold on until the need to take notes required us to let go. I couldn’t be upset with Ridoc anymore about outing us to the squad. I was too grateful to be a part of this little family we had all created together. I smiled to myself as I remembered his over the top greeting this morning in preparation for teasing us and how annoyed I had been. He was right, though. It was a good morning.

#good morning #fourth wing #fanfiction #liam mairi x reader #liam mairi #violet sorrengail #ridoc gamlyn #sawyer henrick #rhiannon matthias #reader insert #fluff

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bluesunss · 1 month ago

Text

Mister Heartbreaker Choi Su-bong (Thanos) x F!Reader

summary: college's biggest troublemaker confesses to college's top student that he had made a bet to kiss her before the end of the night. college's top student admits to college's biggest troublemaker it might not be such a bad idea, after all.

warnings: none, make-out session and some swearing

a/n: a silly little thing, really. I'm so busy with uni but oh how I miss Thanos content. so sorry for mistakes!! english is not my first language

The atmosphere of the party was heavy, humid. Perched on a sofa, wedged between a couple and two obnoxiously loud guys, you kept a low profile, occasionally sipping from an unfamiliar cocktail, which, truth be told, was beginning to make your head spin. Voices shouted from every direction, and the oppressive blue and pink lights weighed on your senses. Just a few steps away, the swimming pool glimmered under the string lights and stars.

A few quieter couples were lying in the grass; you, meanwhile, remained tucked in your corner, content not to owe anything to anyone.

You were lost in thought, perhaps too loudly, because one of the guys suddenly elbowed your shoulder, eyes wide.

“Hey! If you’re just sitting there doing nothing, let the couch be for those who are!”

You clenched your teeth and shot him a sidelong glare. Sweating in your cramped space, you resolved to either take a walk through the fields or head home, either option seemed better than staying amidst this exhausting human debauchery.

After a few awkward squeezes and muttered apologies, you managed to free yourself from the glaringly red couch. A sudden plap sound followed, but you didn’t turn back. You made your way around the pool. Nearby, a group of about ten people had lit up a makeshift barbecue, and someone grabbed your leg.

“YO, want something?”

You glanced down and recognized a guy from your university cohort.

“No, thanks.”

He grinned broadly.

“Not even a sausage?”

Two girls and the guys chuckled. One of the girls rolled her eyes and told him to shut up. You slipped away from the crowd and ducked under some branches, eventually stumbling upon what looked like a hedge-lined path, likely leading away from the house.

Advancing as best as you could, you came upon a narrow trail littered with popcorn and mysterious spills, slowly distancing yourself from the raucous villa pulsing at the heart of the forest. It wasn’t the most prudent idea, to wander off alone into the woods in the middle of a packed party, but you’d had enough of the shouting and the people.

You poured the rest of your cocktail into the hedge, flung the plastic cup into the underbrush, and felt nettles sting your ankles. After a couple of minutes, a gray fence came into view. You sighed in relief and reached to open it. Just as you were about to climb over, a sudden “boo!” rang out.

You jumped back with a start.

“Are you insane?!” you shouted.

A raspy laugh tore through the night.

“You should’ve seen your face!”

You bit your lower lip, cursing under your breath as you stood.

“Idiot! Moron!”

Brushing off your dress, you steadied yourself, still fuming and wobbling on your heels. “Come on, show yourself! AH!”

A shadow emerged from the darkness, raking his fingers through his hair. “Shit, too many brambles,” he muttered. Then his gaze locked onto yours. “Oi, señorita! Thought you were a dude, with that voice.”

You stared at him with jet-black eyes. “Who are you?”

His face was obscured in the dark. He didn’t answer, but you could sense the smirk stretching across his lips. “Party’s boring as fuck. Went to smoke some shit,” he raised a hand, a joint dangling from his fingers, “and now I’m headin’ home.”

Then he looked you over from head to toe. “Y’know, you could come.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Come?”

“Well, if you insist.”

Your face flushed.

“Crazy pervert! I’m not going anywhere with you!”

He laughed again. Without realizing it, the two of you began walking down the dirt path, until the LED lights of nearby shops came into view, along with the murmurs of flip-flops brushing against the ground. The cars began to honk again, and the air, which had previously smelled only of crushed leaves, now carried the stench of petrol and dust. You coughed, and the man turned to glance at you.

“You okay, girl?” he asked, inspecting you. “Got a sore throat or some shit?”

You didn’t reply, lifting a hand to your neck. Ouch. It did hurt a bit. He said nothing more, merely studied you for a moment before continuing silently at your side. His flip-flops thudded rhythmically against the ground, and aside from his intermittent whistling, no other sounds reached your ears.

“I know your voice,” you said suddenly, struck by a realization.

Like an eager puppy, he turned to you, face alight.

“Really? You know Thanos, the leg-”

“The guy who blasts music at full volume in the dorm next to mine-”

You looked at each other, awkwardly.

“Thanos? The rapper?”

He nodded proudly. “You?” You paused. Should you answer? You hesitated for a long moment, then sighed and quietly murmured your name. Thanos’s eyes widened.

“Shit! You're...”

You nodded. The class representative from your faculty. Always top of your class. The perfect student.

“Oh no.”

You looked up. His brow was furrowed. He had stopped walking.

“You okay?” you asked, halting in step.

He nodded. “Let’s just get to your place, yeah?”

You rolled your eyes, but let yourself be swayed. You followed him out of the small wooded area. He held your arm, hailed a taxi, and the two of you climbed in, headed for your respetive places.

A heavy silence settled inside the car. His breathing was loud. His chest rose and fell erratically. He turned toward you, as if hoping for an answer, but you gave him none.

The back seat creaked with every turn, and the pallid glow of the streetlights cast fleeting amber flares across your faces. Thanos had stopped fidgeting. He was slouched back, one hand behind his head and legs spread.

You didn’t speak. You stared out the window, the road, the neon signs, the condensation on the glass.

Beside you, he kept wetting his lips, too often. Fidgeting, he was muttering, clenching occasionally his teeth as he grabbed the hem of his shirt, looking for something.

"Did you know I bet my friends I could kiss you tonight?"

You paused. You had not expected this, and the words took a moment to reach your brain. His voice had come like a confession, as if he was fighting an internal battle on whether he should say it or not.

“What?” you stared at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

He didn’t respond immediately, staring out the window.

“Y’know what I mean girl. You’re top student for a reason.”

You did understand, yeah. And you didn’t know whether you were feeling frustrated, angry, enraged or... enthusiastic.

“Why did they bet that?”

A silence filled the space. You could hear the wheels on the asphalt and the distant honking of the cars. Thanos was on the seat next to yours, staring at everythuing but you, awkward and concentarted.

“Cuz you’re the smartest girl,” he said in a whisper. “I’m trouble. They said it was hot and a challenge, y’know, to get in your pants.”

You coughed, making the driver turn his head and widen his eyes. Dismissing him with a sorry, you saw him turn back to the road, shaking his head while responding to the person he was calling obnoxiously loud.

“You said a kiss!”

“Yeah, they said to sleep with you but I said a kiss. Consider yourself lucky.”

Was he stupid?

“OK.”

“OK?”

He finally turned to look at you, brows furrowed, exasperation written all over his face. It was too dark and both your faces were veiled by the obscurity.

“What do you want me to say? Thank you for changing a bet on me from a hook-up to a kiss?”

His breath hitched as he stared at you, eyes wide. You swore, the air suddenly got warmer. More difficult to breathe.

“I don’t know bro,” he shook his head, still dazed. “Something along the lines of ‘I’m not doing this, asshole!’ or ‘yeah kiss me’. Not ‘OK’”

That made you laugh. The action made your eyes brighter, your face shine. Thanos suddenly found himself staring, unable to look away from your dazzling face.

“Woah,” he said. He realized what he’d said, and he shook his head after a second. “Whatever. You said you lived at the end of the street?

You nodded, the smile still playing on your lips.

“You’re funny,” you told him.

He was still shaken. Getting out of his trance, a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Duh. I’m the legend Thanos.”

Shaking your head, you sighed. “Don’t get too cocky.”

There was a pause where both of you stared out your windows. For some reason, you were seated by the window, but he had sat in the middle. And only now did you realise how your left side was burning, all the side of his body in contact with yours. His shirt brushed against your naked shoulder, and his shorts were slightly pulled up, revealing the birth of his thighs that caressed your bare ones. Your dress had hiked up. And suddenly, all this contact was overwhelming.

Still looking out of the window, you asked him, voice lost in the air.

“W... why did you tell me?” you breathed. “That you wanted to kiss me. You could’ve just seduced me and done it.”

He didn’t respond. His breath was getting rougher. What was supposed to be a bet hung heavy between you two. And suddenly, you found your mind wandering. Imagining those pink lips on yours. The sensation. The feeling. The softness.

It all happened so softly. Suddenly, his fingers brushed yours. Maybe it wasn’t intentional, maybe it was. But it just happened. And second thing you knew, it became a new point of contact. Hesitant fingers interlaced hesitant fingers, shaky hand intertwined with shaky hand. It was silly, really. Making hand contact with college's biggest troublemaker, staring out the window, acting as if nothing was happening.

It was him who turned his head first.

“Would you have kissed me?” he asked. His voice was still firm, but you felt the slight tremor in his usually composed tone. “If I seduced you without telling you.”

You didn’t immediately respond. You were a model student. Good grades. Good posture. Good daughter. Good friend.

It was tiring.

“Answer me.”

His voice was needy, as if he was holding back so much feelings inside him they were threatening to break out.

“Yes,” you answered. “I would have.”

It was all it took. “Look at me.”

You obeyed, controlled by your heart rather than your brain. Faced him. And your breath hitched. His dark eyes were gleaming with desire. His knuckles were white from how hard he was gripping them. His purple hair was slightly wet, sticking to his forehead.

“Holy shit,” he muttered. “You’re so damn beautiful.”

It was exactly what you thought about him, and you felt your heart race realising that he thought of you this way too, imagining what he was seeing. Eyes like his, gleaming, dress that was exposing the curve of your chest, falling in ragged breathes, parted and wet lips, lashes shadowing your eyes in that distinct expression of desire.

“Oh,” you found yourself responding.

He’d probably brag about it to his friends and the whole college. He would ruin your perfect reputation. Your clean image. The expectations. “Kiss me, then, Mister Heartbreaker.”

“Mister Heartbreaker?” he chuckled. His lips curved into a smile. “Is that what you girls call me?”

You smiled in return, shaking your head as you leaned closer to him. Your noses brushed, your palms still connected, your chest pressing against his hard one as his other hand had weaved a way to the side of your face, holding it like a precious flower. “Only me,” you whispered, your breath fanning against his lips. The words sent a vibration all across his body, and he had to swallow not to ruin you here and there in a single motion.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Be careful what you wish for, señorita,” he finally whispered as both your lips crushed against the other’s. It took an instant. Immediately, his hands were on you, on each side of your waist. The driver was honking at other cars, stuck in a traffic jam, distracted as he yelled to his phone. Thanos's tongue found immediately access to your mouth, urging you to open it with a squeeze on your thigh. His hand slid higher, tugging at the bothersome hem of the dress.

“Come,” he ordered in a hoarse voice, gesturing to his lap.

You obeyed. The car had halted, the driver was engrossed in a heated conversation, and besides, Seoul was loud at night. You immediately unhooked your seat belt, detaching with a quick fwip, the metal clacked against the top of the window, and Thanos made sure you were seated behind the driver. As soon as you were out of sight, he adjusted your position on him, gripping your thighs and keeping them in place as you straddled him urgently.

You both felt a sparking friction that you needed to explore more later, but you were too engrossed in the contact of your sweet lips together – his acidic and raunchy ones, your soft and sweet ones. “Mhm,” you moaned into the kiss, momentarily breaking the contact and throwing your head back to savour it. He took advantage of the sudden exposition, kissing the bare skin of your neck and leaving a bite mark. He then immediately reconnected your lips, afraid of letting go even just for one second.

And then, the street cleared up, the driver drove faster, and a sudden harsh light illuminated both your faces. Thanos pulled away, staring in awe at your flushed face and appreciating the feeling of your soft skin on his, when he suddenly rose his brows and a confused expression painted his face.

“Did you… drink anything?”

You paused too, breathing with difficulty, falling limp into his arms.

“Yes,” you breathed into his neck. “A blue cocktail.” He shivered at the contact, pulling you slightly back by the shoulders. “Why?”

He cradled your face in his big and warm hands, rings chilling your face in specific spots, as he observed your lips.

“They’re blue.”

You tilted your head, still dreamy. “Blue? What’s blue?”

His mouth curved into a smile.

“Your lips.”

The light disappeared. Swallowed by darkness, your mouth slid from his neck, leaving a trail of kisses, to his lips, taking all of him in.

“Then so should yours be.”

He laughed against your lips. The driver pulled up in a familiar alley, and you stayed in his arm, encircled by his strong bicep you wished to preserve around you for a long, long time.

hi :)

#choi su bong #thanos #thanos squid game #player 230 #alternate universe #player 230 x reader #squid game #thanos x reader #choi su bong x reader #squid game 2

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chrissdreamgirl · 9 days ago

Text

headcannons || C.S

troubled!chris x fwb!reader

↳ au masterlist here

contains - slightly suggestive content, lore drop, brief mentions of drugs/dealing.

fwb!reader who…

★ has a collage wall in her bedroom, consisting of band posters, vintage postcards, little sketches, movie tickets (including polaroid pictures she takes)

★ has ghosted other guys last minute because chris called and asked if she was busy

★ is practically spotifys #1 user, and will probably be deaf by 30

★ can read chris like a book, his body language being one of his biggest tells

★ is an avid letterboxd user, obnoxiously whips her phone out within seconds of a movie ending to log it

★ has called chris too many times to pick her up from a house party she regretted going to

“i’ll be there in 5”

“chris, it’s 15 minutes away?? hello??”

★ has called in sick before because chris was asleep half on-top of her and she didn’t want to move him

★ doesn’t like to be alone

★ has friends that aren’t particularly fond of chris but she isn’t particularly fond of her friends so…

★ once cleaned chris’s af1’s because she was sick of him walking dirt through her apartment

★ can’t go to a party without chris finding her and keeping her busy his side all night

★ dream car is a red ford pickup and chris can’t understand why its not a lamborghini

★ soft launches troubled!chris on her instagram even though everyone knows it’s him

★ is really independent from a young age, learned to rely solely on herself

★ loves her apartment, and has called chris over to help her drag furniture around to rearrange it. (she stood there and pointed where she wanted it, whilst chris dragged her three-seater across the room)

★ has found chris in her shower on multiple occasions, he said it’s because his brothers used all the hot water

★ tells guys at parties she ‘has a boyfriend’ which is technically not true, but it makes them go away

troubled!chris who…

★ considers himself an ‘opportunistic dealer’, mostly selling weed at parties. he won’t go further than that for moral reasons

★ stole a polaroid picture of fwb!reader from her collage wall and keeps it tucked in his wallet behind some receipts (she noticed it was gone almost immediately, but never said anything)

★ prefers his brothers over most people, and if you see matt or nick somewhere, chris usually isn’t far behind

★ calls his mom every thursday night, because that’s when his dad works late shifts

★ doesn’t let himself get attached, because he feels guilty and suffocated when girls start getting attached to him

★ is a big secret yearner

★ has a tendency to fall asleep if he’s sitting on a couch for more than 20 minutes

★ has a rock collection from when he was a kid in his closet. he pulls it out occasionally and re-organises it

★ doesn’t like to be alone either

★ has only been in one serious relationship and she broke his heart, so he promised himself he’d never let anyone close enough to hurt him

★ hangs out with fwb!reader just to chill almost as often as they hook up

★ stopped adding girls to his roster around a year ago and has stuck with the same 3-4, but definitely sees fwb!reader the most

★ is a god at mario kart

★ would rather fuck and forget his problems than actually deal with them

★ has accidentally put reader’s clothes on multiple times while getting dressed in the dark and not noticed until one of his brothers pointed it out

“is that a brandy melville shirt?” matt smirks, closing the fridge.

“matt. shut your mouth.”

dividers by @bernardsbendystraws !!

a/n - FINALLY another update, i wrote these in the car today after struggling FOREVER so thank goodness. i’m gonna be really busy in the next week-ish and don’t have anything else written yet so my apologies in advance <33 but feel free to send me asks abt troubled!chris and i’ll answer them :P

🏷️ @fadedstvrn @sturns-mermaid @sturnsblogs @matts-girlfriend @evansturn @sturnslotto @auttysturnz @lily-strnlo @franficc

#chrissdreamgirl #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo tumblr #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #chris x reader #sturniolo au #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fic #sturniolo x reader #troubled!chris 𐙚 #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo #christopher sturniolo

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horseimagebarn · 11 months ago

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Ok so thanks for the answer vis a vis the centaur situation I appreciate it a lot and I'm not trying to convince you to change your ruling but unfortunately you used the word taxonomy which triggered one of my damn neurodivergences. I hope you don't mind but my response will be to deposite these few paragraphs in your inbox I'm sorry in advance if this comes off as aggressive or condescending or just plain annoying I'm just sensing an opportunity to infodump to someone who might be interested in tbe topic so I'm seizing it I'm sure you know what it's like

Anyway there's a disconnect between pragmatism and scientific rigor that people are blind to which vexes me and biological taxonomy is a particular pet peeve of mine the biggest instance of it is crocodiles and alligators which are really the same damn animal for all intents and purposes but that's not relevant

Naturally when one thinks of horses one thinks of domestic horses specifically (Equus ferus cabellus) but I'd argue that certain pictures of donkeys (Equus africanus) look more like domestic horse pictures than certain pictures of Przewalski's horse (Equus ferus przewlaskii) despite the latter being classified as the same species and the former not

And I feel that for a horse image barn the resemblence of a picture to an archetypical horse image should be a higher priority criterion for inclusion than some criteria that biological taxonomy relies on like the presence of specific haplotypes which isn't even a word anyone knows and if you go to its Wikipedia article you get a definition of it that's not really relevant to this ask

So yeah in conclusion I wouldn't tie the in/ex-clusion of images to scientific taxonomy but to Vibes if I were the admin of this or a similar blog but I'm not and you are so you can like do whatever

Also I won't be submitting the centaur image I wanted to submit but can I still send it as an ask I like showing it to people spreading it around etc it's kind of cursed but also funny and I like it a lot and I understand why it's not horse enough to your taste but it's definitely horse adjacent and I want to share it

as a fellow animal wikipedia delver i agree that taxonomy is not the end all be all of the human perception of animals however what i meant to imply is that the differences between centaurs and horses are large enough to be considered taxonomical and are not debatable even in a taxonomical sense due to their many massive differences also i have posted przewalskis horses before as they are true horses and this is horseimagebarn not assimagebarn or centaurimagebarn even though i love donkeys just as much and would own a donkey over a horse any day

i did just take my adderall and am bored at work so i have to humbly yet lengthily disagree with you that taxonomy is not important in both cases presented while the crocodilian assumption you make has bruised my heart as i love alligators and i find them far cuter than crocodiles due to the differences in their jaw structure that makes their bottom teeth fit into their mouth instead of jutting out like crocodiles (which is one of the many actual and notable physical differences between them alongside choice of salt or fresh water etc) i wont get into that and will focus on horses since thats the point of this blog using actual punctuation and capitalization for the first time in this blogs history ill be referring to przewalskis horse as takhi as it is also known so i dont make a typo which i know i will

long ass (donkey pun) post warning

Taxonomy can of course be vague at times or muddied, but it is not an invalid study. All human knowledge is constantly evolving, and mistakes are inevitably going to be made, but that does not make our efforts invalid. It is beneficial for us to know how evolution works. Taxonomical differences are real and worth considering, even if mistakes are made sometimes. Two animals looking similar is not a valid reason to ignore their taxonomical differences, nor is it okay to ignore similarities because they look different—if we went by that logic, every dog breed would be a totally different species.

Speaking of, here's a little more on the whole appearance thing before we get into the science:

The other day, I was watching a video about the actual horses that existed in antiquity, and they are far more similar to takhi than you might think. I'll link the video if I can find it, apologies for a lack of a source on this right now, but the gist of it was that horses of yore were much shorter and stouter than modern horses. The tall, thin horse often seen in modern depictions of ancient time is inaccurate, as is the thick, muscular draft, which didn't become common until later on. Back then, people wanted horses that were sturdy—most people didn't care as much about specific breeds or having the hugest and prettiest horse on the block, especially when food to maintain larger animals like modern horses wasn't always guaranteed, and having such a huge animal could be dangerous and more difficult. Their horses were more similar to ponies than our big guys now, and ponies aren't a separate species. The selective breeding of horses to become taller and leaner made them appear way different from the takhi, but just like dogs, they remain extremely similar to those of their taxa despite looking different on the surface. For example, take a look at the ancient fjord horse breed next to the takhi...in fact, sometimes takhis are called Mongolian ponies! We can even see this in ancient art earlier in the horse's domestication:

Anyway, science:

Firstly, the takhi isn't wholly classified as the same exact species as the true horse, our domesticated Equus ferus caballus. Both Equus ferus callabus and Equus ferus przewalskii are considered subspecies of caballines, or true horses, meaning they're more like cousins (I know it's a cliche to say this, but I mean it), with donkeys and zebras as, like, their nephews twice removed. If the takhi was considered the exact same species as the domestic horse with no acknowledged differences, it would be considered a breed of horse, not a subspecies (though breeds are typically manmade, they are not always—see the word "typical" in the dictionary definition). This means that it does have recognized, distinct differences from the standard domesticated horse that have been taken into consideration in their taxonomy—it is not like the two are blindly considered the same exact thing.

Mistakes have been made in Equus taxonomy in the past, but continued research has led to a retaxing of the genus as early as the 1980s. In the 2012 review article "Discordances between morphological systematics and molecular taxonomy in the stem line of equids: A review of the case of taxonomy of genus Equus," by E. Kefena et al., a number of scholars reviewed the methods with which the Equus genus has been taxed in the past and how they have changed in the past few decades.

According to that article, equines are an incredibly plastic genus. They are very good at adapting to their environments, which led past taxonomists to overcount the amount of Equus species that existed in the past and therefore miscategorize the history of the genus in general. Many were actually just adapted versions of the same thing. This is what we see in the horse and takhi—they are similar but have adapted to their different environments and niches.

In 1986, two molecular scientists, George and Ryder, performed the first DNA-based molecular taxonomy on all living equus species, publishing their findings in the article "Mitochondrial DNA evolution in the genus Equus." By mapping equus DNA and constructing a phylogenetic tree, they were able to take a closer look at the actual genetic disparities between equus species.

George and Ryder found that "[In the mtDNA (mitochondrial DNA) cleavage map,] the percent sequence difference between E. przewalskii and E. caballus individuals was found to range between 0.27% and 0.41%. ... Overall, the amount of divergence presented here is small and not much greater than the 0.36% divergence reported for mtDNA differences found among the human racial groups (Brown 1980; Cann et al. 1984)."

So, horses and takhis are incredibly similar. Using these findings, they separated equus species into three clades: "One that groups the zebras, a second that groups E. africanus [African wild ass] and E. hemionus [Asiatic wild ass, aka the hemione], and a third that associates the true [caballine] horses E. przewalskii and E. caballus as a unit. However, as stated previously, the E. africanus-E. hemionus clade remains enigmatic."

They later state that "E. hemionus and E. africanus appeared more karyotypically [chromosomally] similar to each other than to other equids," hence why they were considered a clade despite being "enigmatic." Kefena et al. explain this weird enigma further, and, notably, compare it to the takhi: "Next to Przewalskii's horses, hemiones were the first species to be diverged from the stem line of extant equids, suggesting that they might be closely related to caballine horses than to asses, though they are monophyletic with donkeys than with horses. On the basis of these evidences, morphological resemblance between species doesn't guarantee genetic similarity between equid species." This means that asses and horses have distinct genetic differences that far outweigh those between takhi and domestic horses, despite the fact that donkeys and takhi look more similar. The hemione looks very similar to the African wild ass, and it is closer to it genetically, but it is not the same due to the way it evolved—it broke away from the general line earlier than any other ass. The takhi is the same; it diverted earlier than other horses, but remains very genetically similar—more than any other extant Equus species. And, even with the takhi's extra chromosomal pair, George and Ryder also found that they and horses were also very close karotypically, giving them incredible similarities both mtDNA-wise and chromosome-wise. Despite that different chromosome, horses and takhis can successfully interbreed and produce fertile offspring, unlike horses and donkeys.

Kefena et al. "MYBP" stands for "Millions of Years Before Present" Funnily enough, G&R also say, "There has been little to no dispute over the close relationship that exists between E. przewalskii and E. caballus; thus the addition of E. caballus to the E. przewalskii branch should be easily accepted." Which is so weirdly on the nose that I feel compelled to say that it's on page 544 so no one thinks I'm making it up. So, with their genetic similarities, their actually surprisingly similar appearances, and their sequential DNA similarities, the Przewalski's horse and the domesticated horse do belong in the same category when compared to other equines like donkeys and zebras. They're not identical, but they're in the same room of the larger equine house. And, check out the tarpan, Equus ferus ferus, another subspecies of Equus ferus and the most recently extinct of them all, alongside the current Equus ferus species (and a concept of the original Equus ferus pre-domestication by Cameron Clow on Artstation)! They're all friends:

Conclusion

you can send me centaurs if you want i just wont post them

#ask #horse #horses #horseblr #horseposting #horseimagebarn talking #long post #przewalski's horse #equus #equus ferus #equus ferus caballus #equus ferus przewalskii #taxonomy #horse facts #fun facts #dischorse

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luckyblackcatxiii · 5 months ago

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Hello! Sorry in advance if this has already been answered somewhere. I really admire the way that you design outfits for your characters and wanted to ask if there were any reference sources that you recommend for designing D&D-ish fantasy outfits. Have you just picked up trends/patterns over time? Are there a certain time periods or fashion eras that you like to emulate in your designs? Media that has inspired the designs? Thanks for sharing your amazing art with us!!

Hey there!

No apologies needed, you'd be the first to ask me this (that I remember in the last couple of years, at least)

I think my biggest suggestion to anyone who wants to design outfits for characters--fantasy or not--is to first do some studying on how clothing is structured, as well as historical and/or regional fashion. Whether that's taking a class or just going through various medias that cover the topic, such knowledge helps you get an overall roundness on the basics of how clothes work, how they can be applied to the human figure, and just why certain fashions became in vogue via the times, emotions, economies, psychology and culture they reflected. All which can then serve as inspiration and guidance on how to go about clothing your made up person/society/etc, because after all: not only do we dress ourselves to reflect our own individuality, but people have been doing that for generations before us. Whether it's the fabric used or the shape of the silhouette, clothes tell a story! And a lot of it is interesting!!!

Also, the more you understand clothing, the more believable and strong your designs will present themselves.

(You'll also suffer the curse of recognizing how inaccurate a lot of historical TV shows and movies are with their depictions of costuming, then have to stifle this down so as not be obnoxious to those around you! Yay!!)

When it comes to designing fantasy things though, the best part of drawing from reality and historic fashion is you can have references without the feeling of having to be entirely beholden to accuracy (while still--I should hope--being respectful enough to avoid borrowing more personal aspects of cultures who may not appreciate parts of their identity being used without knowledge/context applied). I often like to mix and match different time period/regional aesthetics and mesh them into something that becomes seemingly familiar yet unique enough to call my own, and it seems to pay off in the long run.

Aside from that, I like to keep in mind the practicality of an outfit--why is it being worn and what is its purpose?--while also making sure it defines the most important aspects of my character, as well as has a nice shape/sillhouette. After that, aesthetics, personal enjoyment, easter eggs, and overall fun make up the rest of the designing process. Be sure to indulge once in awhile, if not always if that's your vibe!

On that note: I personally like to depict western clothing between the 15th-early 20th century, with the Georgian and Edwardian era being my favorite. Though, thanks to my VtM game, I've definitely grown a deeper appreciation and affection for the 20s more 'recently' and with Curse of Strahd, I've been having a ton of fun getting more familiarized with Slavic and Eastern European clothing. I have a lot of CoS NPCs that need designing (and I'd like to do a fashion zine for Barovia someday, so I've been doing a lot of research as of late...)!

If I'd have to give credit to any media that's inspired my own designs, I'd have to say Odin Sphere (or any fantasy based Vanillaware game, really) is always there in the back of my mind when I'm tackling a fantasy look. I'm absolutely blanking on anything else, but i'm sure there's plenty of inspiration that subconsciously sits in my brain just Ratatouille-ing my hand when I decide to design things AHAHAH~ I'm sure once this is posted, it'll all come rushing to me...

This has gone on pretty long and I admittedly feel like an unqualified egomaniac after yapping as much as I have, but I hope this helps, if not offers some overall insight on my own process! Thank you so much for your inquiry and kind words, I'm so glad you enjoy my stuff and look forward to supplying you more in the future! :,3c <3

#lucky chatter #I'm the worst at talking about myself I'm so sorry #If I can just say: pinterests boards can be really fun and helpful but for the love of God check your sources #The PTSD that comes from decades of people mixing up the Victorian with the Edwardian era...

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dandylovesturtles · 6 months ago

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Now that 2024 is coming to a close:

1) Of everything you've made this year, which ones are you the most proud of?

2) What are a few of your favorite things (art, comics, fics, etc) that someone else has made this past year?

(Gonna apologize in advance that this answer won’t have specific links because I moved fast)

1. Well, this year I finished I May Be Invisible, But I Still Look Good, which was a major accomplishment for me! It’s the longest thing I’ve ever written, and I was really proud of myself for sticking it out to the end. It got way bigger than I ever expected, and big thanks again to everyone who came on the ride with me.

Of the things I started this year, my favorite has been the emotional support water bottles AKA Room Fic. Kind of insane to think I came up with the first one while eating lunch and dropped all my plans for the afternoon to write the whole thing in one day lol! I hope to get the last followup done soon, I’ve just had a little trouble getting my mojo.

There’s another project I started this year that I hoped to have out already but maybe sometime in the first part of next year. I’m excited to share it when it’s done!

2. Oh boy I’ll try to get everything!

I of course enjoyed some ongoing projects this year, including Replica AU by @kathaynesart, Sep Leo AU by @dianagj-art, 2 Arms Left by @intotheelliwoods, Adagio in Green by @boxfullaturtles, and Empyrean Weeping by @cupcakeslushie! Also shoutout to the @tizeline Sep AU where Donnie is the most chaotic only child, and @vangh17a ‘s Wanderer comic which is beautiful and intriguing.

@remedyturtles broke all our hearts with Firefight this year and I had a great time teaming up during the AU Comp! Also LOVED their fic about third man syndrome, but I’m always a sucker for Leo and his papa.

I love everything @goodlucktai has ever written but I especially loved the recent A Team fics and also the Archer AU! Gio is so precious

On the subject of lost siblings, I am privileged to be the beta reader for @kiaxet ‘s fic Siblingquest. Cissy is also precious, and I’m really excited about Kia’s future plans for the story!

And there’s just been a ton of great art this year from so many people, including @e-turn @trilobitepunch @koolaidashley and so many others. I know I’m missing so many people but this community is just full of talented, amazing artists!

And finally, my biggest love and shoutout for this year goes to @untitled-tmnt-blog , who not only makes GORGEOUS art pieces, but who made me a whole physical BOOK for IMBI!! Seriously the most touching thing anyone has ever done for me. PLEASE check out untitled’s art (and writing!) because everything she does is amazing.

And so many others who have talked with me about this fun show and who listen to me rambling about my endless AU ideas. You are all so cool. Here’s to 2025!

And thanks for the ask!

#rottmnt

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a-pop-of-korean · 2 months ago

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hii! I'm Rosie and I have lots of questions n.n and literally I was just thinking about it (in advance lol) but I am going to be an English teacher in a few years and I plan to teach English in Daegu or Seoul (I still don't know which one) , which visa did you get? How did you get the job? Do you think that by the time I finish my career (3 years more) I'll be able to move to Daegu? Can I become fluent in Korean in 3 years? And the most important one !! Are you happy?

안녕하세요! Thanks for your question! Unfortunately, pretty much all the questions you asked can only be answered with "it depends." I am teaching through the Fulbright program, which is for Americans only. I also know some people who are teaching through the EPIK program, which is for anyone from an English-speaking country. Both of these programs place teachers in normal K-12 schools as opposed to hagwons. If you're looking for a hagwon or university teaching job, I have no idea how to get those or where to look for them.

I want to warn you that for Fulbright and EPIK, you have very little control over where you get placed. Fulbright specifically does not place first-year teachers in some of the biggest cities in Korea, including Seoul and Daegu. I'm not sure what your chances are with EPIK. It all depends on where teachers are needed, as well as who you are (such as your prior teaching experiences, etc.). You can voice your preferences, but nothing is guaranteed. In short, if you are applying to either of these programs, be prepared to be placed in a rural area like me! You might also have to teach a grade that you may not have wanted. Again, I'm not sure about other opportunities for foreign teachers in Korea, but this is what I know about these two programs.

As for getting fluent in Korean in 3 years, that also depends! I've been studying for years and still have a hard time speaking sometimes, although my listening, reading, and writing skills are fine. But this is because I've spent very little time in Korea and speaking Korean regularly. If you're fully immersed for 3 years, who knows! But know that even if you don't become fluent, you can for sure see a lot of progress and you will be able to survive in Korea.

And for the most important question: am I happy? The answer is yes! My role as a teacher is very different from my role as a teacher in the US. I have much less responsibility and I encourage my students to speak English freely, which is a stark contrast to the Suneung prep that they are accustomed to. Importantly, as a new foreign teacher, I have a lot of support from the people at my school. My job is definitely easier because of my teaching experience, so be prepared for a bit of a learning curve if you don't have any. But regardless, I feel a lot less stressed about my job here than I did in the US. It's a fun job and you'll love getting to know your students and seeing their progress!

Even if your experience is not what you're expecting--i.e. you're placed in rural Korea instead of a big city--know that you will be okay. I'm from New York City, so adjusting to rural life is definitely an adjustment. I also teach at a high school and a middle school, even though I did not want to teach middle school. But I am very grateful for my high school opportunity and do have the support I need at the middle school.

I hope this helps! If anyone knows of any other teaching programs in Korea, or if you've taught in Korea yourself, feel free to comment about it! Thanks for your question and best of luck! 화이팅!

#korean #korean language #korean langblr #한국어 #apok #apok q&a #langblr

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kalikalahansa · 15 days ago

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Hi, Kali! I hope life has been well!

I have a few questions about messing untraining if you don't mind answering them.

So, I've always had this confusion about what to do when I start messing untraining. I understand the basics like reworking wardrobe to accommodate thicker diapers, getting thicker diapers to compensate for the increased absorbency usage that messing imposes, and of course, some diet changes.

My question lies within the lines of "how to."

I've read about some people being able to get their messing habits to be nearly cyclical; they've been able to mess nearly on-the-dot an hour after they have one of their three meals a day. Of course, I've also read that for some people, messing can be completely random and will happen pretty much whenever it needs to happen.

I understand that theres a big possibility that I dont have a choice over what kind of voiding habit I get out of untraining. But, I would really love it if I could end up having more bowel movements after meals rather than at random.

I wonder if there's anything I can do to try and encourage that to happen? Or does voiding eventually make it to a more predictable (not completely) schedule after a few months or years of random accidents on its own?

Second question, and I feel like I already know the answer to this question, but I guess sometimes it feels better when someone who's not me gives me the answer, lol.

So, when one begins messing untraining, is it really just a matter of voiding literally whenever you feel the need to? I guess I ask because, for me, I often end up in a situation where I need to "go" but there's something holding me back from ever doing it. For instance; I just changed into a fresh diaper, or I don't feel like the void is going to be, well, enough to justify ruining a diaper over it, or I'm in a public place that has either friends, family, co-workers or really anyone nearby and I don't have the desire to fill my diaper when I know I can hold it.

I feel like these are all results of a mental block, which I'll definitely need to overcome in order to make any more untraining progress. But, as you know, it can be really scary sometimes! And I could always use some words of encouragement if they're available.

Anyway, that's all the questions I have for now! Thank you in advance for answering them if you do so!

Hey, anon. I'm well. Thanks for the kind words and the thought-provoking question. Hope you're well too.

I would really love it if I could end up having more bowel movements after meals rather than at random. I wonder if there's anything I can do to try and encourage that to happen? Or does voiding eventually make it to a more predictable (not completely) schedule after a few months or years of random accidents on its own?

In my experience, once messing is primarily thoughtless rather than a product of conscious disinhibition and effort, then provided certain other conditions are met, moving toward a more-or-less predictable pattern of voiding is just a matter of time. The Twelve Month Diaper-Training Program says that it takes a matter of weeks after you achieve thoughtlessness. I wouldn't go quite that far; the point where I noticed that my messing was happening in a pattern was most of a year in, and happened a couple of months after I started having accidents. But it happens. My advice would be:

Messing whenever you feel the need is optimal. I know you've mentioned that that's not really something you're able to do right now, and I'm addressing that in full below. However, I found it was optimal partly because, for me and for a lot of other people who untrained messing, the biggest variation in messing timing was caused by control, conscious and otherwise. Once things were running entirely on reflex, timing got a lot more regular.

On that, I personally remember finding that the messing need signal was harder to get on top of than the wetting need signal. For me, I remember that, when I was continent, the wetting signal became noticeable and a little bit acute (albeit easily ignorable) well before the point where I was absolutely busting to pee, and then shaded up in a gradual arc over time from there. The messing signal, on the other hand, usually became acute like thirty minutes maximum before the point where my control would fail no matter what, but it'd always be present for at least some time, up to hours, before that, as a sort of dull roar that could be mistaken for lower back pain. But precisely because it could be mistaken for other things it was harder to get on top of. I remember having messing control more clearly than I remember having wetting control and I remember that the early stages of needing to mess didn't really feel like anything — I just didn't feel completely ~*~empty~*~. So, if you want to start messing whenever you feel the need (and, again, that's something I'll cover more fully below), actually knowing when you're beginning to feel the need is something you might have to invest conscious effort into.

If you have any reason to suspect that the way you already experience bowel voiding might be at all different compared to the average person's, see your primary care practitioner, and see a gastroenterological specialist if you can. Undiagnosed irritable bowel syndrome (IBS) or inflammatory bowel diseases (IBDs) can have a significant impact on your capacity to untrain. It's particularly important to see a specialist because for a lot of people, these conditions may have been internalised as simply either a personal failing or part of the inexplicable suffering of life. It wasn't until well after untraining that I was told I might have IBS; I have a friend who spent years tanking Crohn's.

Move your diet toward one that is known to be preventative of both diarrhoea and constipation. I've been meaning to do a post on this for years but I keep doing it in a stupidly labour-intensive way and wearing myself out on the topic before it's ready to post. That said, it's like the most common reason for dietary advice to be compiled, so it'll be pretty straightforward to just Google. Obvious gotcha tips are reduce red meat intake and increase dietary fibre intake. (Now I'm thinking about that Family Guy gag with Brian and Stewie doing a fibre commercial.) You should also be regularly drinking decent amounts of water; it'll keep your stool from hardening and drying out and becoming harder to pass, and as summers get hotter, it's probably a good idea anyway.

If you feel you're sensitive to particular foods, keep track of which ones they are and be conscious and informed about how much and when you want to consume them, even if your sensitivities don't rise to a diagnosable level. I'm clinically neither coeliac nor lactose intolerant, but I know if I have more than a moderate amount of bread or more than the splash of milk I put in my coffee, it'll make my stomach churn.

I can't guarantee this post will give you precisely regular voiding. But regular messing is really a case of tilt the odds in your favour as far as you can and whatever happens happens, and this is the best I can do in that regard.

Moving on —

when one begins messing untraining, is it really just a matter of voiding literally whenever you feel the need to? I guess I ask because, for me, I often end up in a situation where I need to "go" but there's something holding me back from ever doing it. For instance; I just changed into a fresh diaper, or I don't feel like the void is going to be, well, enough to justify ruining a diaper over it, or I'm in a public place that has either friends, family, co-workers or really anyone nearby and I don't have the desire to fill my diaper when I know I can hold it. I feel like these are all results of a mental block, which I'll definitely need to overcome in order to make any more untraining progress. But, as you know, it can be really scary sometimes! And I could always use some words of encouragement if they're available.

Voiding whenever you need to is the goal. I will say that older authorities often say something along the lines of it being necessary to make a hard transition from voluntarily messing in the toilet to exclusively voluntarily messing in your diapers the second you feel the need. I don't agree. I think it's not worth making people bounce off because they can't immediately jump from a standing start up to the level of challenge presented by that kind of messing untraining, which is formidable. I think it is completely acceptable and effective to phase in exclusive diaper messing over time, not least because I did that myself. However, I will say: the faster you can get to exclusively "messing your diapers and doing so the instant you feel the need," the better.

I sympathise with all your reasons for not messing your diapers. I've felt them myself, and indeed they were of varying importance to me up until I started having accidents, then having more accidents, and it gradually ceased to be something that was within my control. I will, however, venture comment:

I understand not wanting to mess when you've just changed into a fresh diaper. For what it's worth, though, that's what diapers are for. Your voiding becoming more regular will also make it less of a problem because you'll have more of a sense of how your body voids over a given period of time and thus when you will need to change given the optimal choice of diapers for you, which will also be something you'll discover.

I understand not wanting to "ruin" a diaper. For me, this was often a matter of cost, because while I was messing untraining I was a student and didn't have that much flex in my budget. In retrospect, I think that if you're messing untraining it is good to have a large enough on-hand stock of diapers that one or two extra here and there makes basically no impact. I also know that for people who are starting out, it often feels like a messy diaper is ruined because you have to change out of it immediately. My personal firsthand experience and secondhand understanding is that as you end up spending more time in diapers after they're messy, initially usually not by choice, you become more able to stay in them discreetly for a bit and more comfortable doing so — not so comfortable that your messy diaper should start affecting others, but enough so that it doesn't immediately feel like you have to drop everything and rush off in a panic.

I understand not wanting to mess around people you don't know. Keep in mind that they don't know you, they may very well not notice, and if they do notice, it's none of your business.

I very much understand not wanting to mess around friends, family, and co-workers. I didn't do it until I started having accidents and couldn't avoid it; it's just that there was so much time before that where I wasn't in one of those situations that messing freely during that time degraded my control to the point of having accidents. One thing to keep in mind is that if you are already wearing diapers around friends and family, assuming you don't cut ties with them, then, on a long enough timescale, it is virtually impossible that they won't find out about your diapers. Once people know you're wearing diapers, I think that they tend to consider anything beyond that to be a matter of a much smaller degree than we in the community do. The "they'll eventually find out" thing goes double if you're already wetting your diapers around them and triple if you're wetting untrained, partly because wetting imposes its own set of demands that dry diapers don't, and partly because I personally tend to feel that if you're wetting untrained, the effects are such that some degree of loss of messing control is inevitable. The sooner you start voluntarily messing around those whose opinion you respect enough to fear, the sooner you can normalise it and stop fretting about doing it, and the less pent-up stress you'll have to feel if it happens without you expecting it.

I hope this has been some help, anon. I know it was a bit of a novel of a post, but I hope it points you in the direction of the progress and fulfilment you deserve.

#anonymous #messing #untraining #messing untraining #answered

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vintersang · 5 months ago

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Hello, everyone.

I'm alive!

I wanted to make this little post to announce a small hiatus. My creativity energy has taken bit of a dive, so I have not been extremely active on here... As you can most likely tell. My activity has dropped, but I am planning to quietly focus on drafts whenever my inspiration hits me. I have noticed my struggle to write has spread over to other hobbies, such as my joy to create edits... Which is, quite frankly, one of the more unfair things to happen. With this in mind, I have decided to take a short break in order to try to nurse my creativity back to me.

Anything that I finish in my drafts (including my inbox) will be queued up once I actually complete something. Naturally, I want to thank everyone that is still waiting for me. I hate making people wait on me, so I feel a bit extra bad. I wanted to start this year off more strongly, especially since I really want to be on Elsa, but my energy has been quite low lately. For the time being, I will be focusing on trying to re-spark myself. I miss being active on my dash, but I am struggling.

Looking at my drafts, both threads and incomplete asks, makes me feel really disappointed. I know writing is a hobby, but seeing all of it does stress me out a bit. I wish I was a faster writer, but I'm not. I love the rush of excitement whenever I finish something on this blog since I have come to enjoy learning more about my Elsa. But lately? The drafts, I think, are a bit stressful for me to look at whenever I come back onto this blog. Don't get me wrong, I love the interactions so much. The issue is the fact that my writing pace is so slow, especially when muse is being fickle. I enjoy my time on here when I'm active, but I dislike my writing pace. The worst part of my overall writing pace and my unpredictable muse, I think, must be the realization that I make people wait.

Many of my mutuals, especially the mutuals from my Homura blog, are very patient with me. Logging on here to see that I still have my mutuals is, well, really comforting to see. I know all of my mutual friends will be patient with me when they do come across this post on their dash. I adore that for them, truly.

My biggest enemy when it comes to making people wait even longer is, well, myself. No one else. Intrusive thoughts can be a big pain, that's for sure. Right now, I am here to update everyone on what's going on. I don't know how long the hiatus will last, but I will still work on my drafts. My biggest first concern will be finishing my dust-covered threads, then slowly make my way through my inbox. Any unanswered DMs will be answered, though I do apologize for any delays in advance. To those who have reached out to me on my Discord to merely chat, thank you for having me in your thoughts. My social battery can easily get overwhelmed, so it's easy for me to get lost in my own little world...or forget to respond back, which is a bit awkward.

To all of my new followers, welcome to my blog. I know things are quiet right now, but I am hoping to change that in the near future.

For anyone who is reading this, here is an adorable-looking gift!

My ancient phone died at some point this month, so I had the chance to upgrade my phone from an iPhone 6s to an iPhone 13. It was stressful when it happened, but I am happy to have a better phone because I get to take better pictures of my dearest cat. Tabitha is my precious cat. She is currently purring in my lap as I type this post out. Isn't she adorable? My motivation to write (as well as open up Photoshop to work on late gifts) have been really low lately, but... Tabitha is still happily purring in my lap.

If you made it to the very end, I have a small request:

What is one of your favorite books?

(If you answer, please explain why! Talking about books always makes me excited, no matter what kind of slump I'm in!)

It can be a series or a novel, but I would really like to know. Why? Because I'm planning to slowly focus on reading my own books. You see, I have a system: If I cannot write, then I bounce over to my next hobby to try to do something. My motivation to create edits often helps me get back in the mood when it comes to writing for Homura, but... Elsa is more trickier, apparently. Alas, my issue right now is simply my lack of motivation to write anything.

So, what do I do when I can't create?

I focus on reading because I'm always reading something. With this little knowledge, please send me some books. I prefer fictional books. Fantasy is my main genre of choice. I also love historical fiction. You get bonus points if it's some kind of fantasy and historical fiction. I adore faeries (including mermaids) in my books, but there doesn't have to be faeries in the books.

Overall, I want to hear about your books as well. I'm going to try to focus on reading while I'm away because reading always helps me to write something, even if it doesn't go anywhere. Reading is always a big comfort me since I can always rely on it, hehe.

Thank you for reading this far!

#❛ ✧ ┊ can you face what the river knows. ooc.#❛ ✧ ┊ strike for love and strike for fear. psa.

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makeila04 · 4 months ago

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Okkk so first off, I love your entire Tumblr page!! Your theories about Adler, the interpretations and questions are exactly what I have in mind as well, plus it gives me the feels. I love tragedy and thinking about this blonde man's more human side.

I also have a question! What do you think are Russell's biggest fears? I don't mean fears like spiders or anything but more deep seated fears.

Have a great day/night!

UFFF first of all thank you very much and second I'm glad to know what you meant about their fears because I LOVE that question.

But- it's… complicated. Mostly because part of this blond's charm is being closed off, a shitload of secrets that no one really knows. Let's start with the fact that not even his closest companions know him that well, which the game itself tells us over and over again.

So… this is going to be a challenge but I love that (sorry for the long introduction)

First of all, I think one of Russell Adler’s biggest fears would be losing control. I think it’s the first thing that comes to mind for many of us. Mostly because… it would mean admitting he’s bad at his job, and as we know, his work is so important to him that it’s part of his identity. Adler is a man who’s always one step ahead, who anticipates his enemies’ moves and manipulates his environment to stay on top. His mind is his most powerful weapon, and the idea of losing control—of a mission, of his life, or even of himself—is something I know keeps him up at night. This is reflected in his obsession with manipulation, which isn’t new to anyone, whether it’s with allies or enemies.

Second, I’d say another big fear of Adler’s is becoming useless or obsolete. I love that, despite being born in 1937 and being 54 in 1991, he has no problem adapting to new technologies—quite the opposite. I don’t know if it’s curiosity or mere survival, but I love that he’s not like those old guys who resist technological advances. So I guess, whether he likes it or not, he has to adapt to avoid feeling like he’s dead while alive, because obsolescence in his work is synonymous with death—and obsolescence in himself. Adler hates feeling old or like he’s falling behind. I remember that in the Black Ops 6 safehouse, among the recordings, he rants against Daniel Livingstone, the CIA director, because they wanted to retire him for being too old and make way for younger generations with fresher and more creative minds. And well, we can see Russell’s reaction to this… he insults Livingstone, asserting himself by saying that he’s just as creative as the younger agents by taking refuge in an old, disused Soviet bunker. “See, Daniel? I can be creative too.” That’s what he tells us.

Adler doesn’t know how to exist without his work. He’s been in the CIA for decades, and his identity is intertwined with his role as an agent. The idea of aging and being discarded as a spent resource must be a constant fear. In Black Ops 6, at 54, he’s still clinging to the most dangerous missions because retiring would mean facing a terrifying void: Who is Adler without the CIA, without enemies to hunt, without a purpose? And our dear blond Russell Daddy Adler has no desire to answer that question…

Third, and maybe something obvious: The fear of betrayal and failure. He doesn’t trust almost anyone, and for good reason. He’s seen too many agents fall due to mistakes or betrayals. But more than being betrayed, his greatest fear might be failing himself—that his judgment isn’t enough, that he makes a bad decision that leads to the death of his team or the collapse of a mission. His leadership style is harsh because he can’t afford doubts. If he ever makes a real mistake, there’d be no one else to blame. Add to that the fact that if he messes up, even once, it could cost the lives of thousands or millions of innocents, or worse, his loved ones—or even worse, it could cost him his own life. (Like in the non-canon ending of Call of Duty: Cold War where Bell kills Adler. That happens because Adler trusted Bell, and it came at a high cost.)

Now, if we venture into more speculative territory:

As a fourth point, I’d say another fear of his would be the weight of his own past. Although Russ rarely talks about his personal life, there are glimpses of a painful history in adulthood, as his adolescence seems to have been relatively normal. It’s known that he was married and that his marriage ended in disaster, likely related to the loss of children (according to my own theories). He’s a man who’s learned to disconnect emotionally to survive, but the fact that he has such deep emotional scars suggests that at some point, he did allow himself to feel. His fear might be opening that door again and reliving what he lost. Sometimes I think that even if Adler considers this possibility, even if it were offered to him, I doubt he’d take it because I don’t think he’s capable of weighing whether he could endure another loss like that of his family. Does anyone remember how he risked everything to save Woods at the end of Black Ops 6? The man almost died and crumbled just like the burning house at the possibility of losing his only friend.

As a fifth point, and based on a line from Black Ops 6 Zombies mode, it got me thinking, and I’ll expand on it: “I wish we could all die in a blaze of glory…” Excuse me? Obviously, this man doesn’t want a normal death. He doesn’t want a coffin, and he doesn’t want the death of just any infantry soldier. RUSSELL ADLER wants something BIG, something glorious, a sacrifice for something greater than himself, something eternal and lasting, a legacy—not to fade into oblivion as just another CIA agent. For someone like Adler, death itself isn’t the problem. He’s willing to die in combat if necessary. But the idea that his story ends without having done something monumental, without leaving a mark, is different. He’s not just another soldier in the crowd; he wants to be remembered. His ego and pride demand that his name not just be another classified file in a forgotten CIA box.

As a sixth point, and maybe related to the above, I’d say another fear is losing himself. Adler doesn’t fear death. For him, death is a risk he’s accepted for decades. What might terrify him is being reduced to something less than himself: losing his mental sharpness, his strength, his independence. Becoming a broken man, an empty shell who can no longer fight, make decisions, or even be useful. A stroke, a severe injury, torture that leaves him incapacitated—that’s terrifying. Because if Adler can no longer be Adler, what’s left? And I think he must have thought about this when Stitch tortured and held him prisoner in the 80s. But at least he came out of that alive.

As a seventh item, I’d say another fear of his is that his life NEVER truly meant anything. I doubt he still has the same spirit as that young Russell who lied about his age to join the military at 18. But now, his motivations have clearly changed and have been shaped over the decades. Remember, he’s 54 in 1991. His ego and ambition drive him to leave a legacy, but there’s a deep doubt he never fully allows himself to examine: What if, in the end, nothing I did mattered? He’s spent his life in the CIA, manipulating, fighting in secret wars, betraying and being betrayed. He’s lost friends, allies, his marriage. And when he looks in the mirror, when the silence weighs heavier than any mission, he might ask himself: Was it worth it? Because if the answer is no, then his life was nothing more than a series of meaningless battles, an endless cycle of death and shadows. (And I suspect Adler’s alcoholism is partly to silence those thoughts and doubts…).

To conclude with a final, eighth fear of this sexy blond, I’d say—and to not leave things on such a low note—another less common and maybe unexpected fear would be being loved and not knowing how to handle it. Russ is a man who keeps his distance. Not because he can’t connect with people, but because he knows that when he does, it hurts. It’s easier to be the cold strategist, the impenetrable leader, than to risk feeling. Because if someone ever truly sees him—with all his rage, his damage, his obsession with control, his addiction to adrenaline and self-destruction… would they still love him? Or would they realize he’s not a man who can love in return, at least not in a healthy way? If he ever found someone who loved him unconditionally, without expecting anything in return, that could disarm him more than any enemy. Because love implies vulnerability, and Adler doesn’t know what to do when he’s not in control.

I hope you liked some of this, and don’t hesitate to send me more questions. I hope you have a lovely day or night too!! ^^ <3

Primero que nada creo que uno de los mayores miedos de Russell Adler sería el perder el control. Creo que es el primero que se nos puede venir a muchos a la mente. Más que nada porque…sería admitir que es malo en su trabajo y como sabemos su trabajo es tan importante para él que es parte de su identidad. Adler es un hombre que siempre está un paso adelante, que anticipa los movimientos de sus enemigos y manipula su entorno para mantenerse en la cima. Su mente es su arma más poderosa, y la idea de perder el control—de una misión, de su vida o incluso de sí mismo—es algo que sé que le quita el sueño por las noches. Esto refleja en su obsesión por la manipulación, cosa que no es nueva para nadie, ya sea con aliados o enemigos.

Segundo diría que otro gran miedo de Adler es ser inutil o quedarse obsoleto. Amo que para haber nacido en 1937 y teniendo 54 años en 1991 no tenga problema en adaptarse a las nuevas tecnologías sino todo lo contrario. No sé si es curiosidad o mera supervivencia pero amo que no sea como eso viejos que se oponen a los avances, tecnológicos por ejemplo. Así que supongo que le guste o no debe adaptarse para no sentir que está muerto en vida, ya que la obsolescencia en su trabajo es sinónimo de muerte y de obsolescencia en él mismo y Adler odia sentirse viejo o que se está quedando atrás.Recuerdo que en la safe house de Black Ops 6, entre las grabaciones que hay despotrica contra Daniel Livingstone, director de la CIA, porque en parte lo querían jubilar por ser muy mayor y para dar paso a las nuevas generaciones ya que tendrían una mentalidad más fresca y creativa y bueno, podemos notar la reacción de Russell ante esto…insulta a Livingstone. Afirmándose a sí mismo sobre que él también es creativo como los jóvenes al refugiarse en un antiguo refugio sovietico en desuso “¿lo ves Daniel? yo también puedo ser creativo.” Es lo que él mismo nos dice.

Adler no sabe ser sin su trabajo. Ha estado en la CIA durante décadas, y su identidad está entrelazada con su papel como agente. La idea de envejecer y ser descartado como un recurso gastado debe ser un miedo constante. En Black Ops 6, con 54 años, sigue aferrándose a las misiones más peligrosas, porque retirarse significaría enfrentarse a un vacío aterrador: ¿quién es Adler sin la CIA, sin enemigos que cazar, sin un propósito? Y nuestro querido rubioRussell daddy Adler no tiene ganas de responder esa pregunta…

Tercero y tal vez algo obvio: El miedo a la traición y al fracaso. No confía en casi nadie, y con razón. Ha visto a demasiados agentes caer por errores o traiciones. Pero más que ser traicionado, su mayor miedo puede ser fallar él mismo—que su juicio no sea suficiente, que tome una mala decisión que lleve a la muerte de su equipo o al colapso de una misión. Su estilo de liderazgo es duro porque no puede permitirse dudas. Si alguna vez se equivoca de verdad, no habría nadie más a quien culpar. Sumado a que si se equivoca, al menos una vez, eso le costará la vida a miles o millones de inocentes, o peor aún a sus seres queridos o aún mucho peor, le costará la vida a él mismo. (como en el final no canónico de call of duty cold war donde Bell mata a Adler. Eso ocurre porque Adler confió en Bell y tuvo un costo caro). Ahora si entramos en terreno más especulativo que otra cosa: Como cuarto punto diría que otro de sus miedo sería el peso de su propio pasado. Aunque Russ rara vez habla de su vida personal, hay destellos de una historia dolorosa, en la adultez, ya que su adolescencia parece transcurrir como la de un chico normal. Se sabe que estuvo casado y que su matrimonio terminó en un desastre, probablemente relacionado con la pérdida de hijos (según mis propias teorías). Es un hombre que ha aprendido a desconectarse emocionalmente para sobrevivir, pero el hecho de que tenga cicatrices emocionales tan profundas sugiere que en algún momento sí se permitió sentir. Su miedo podría ser abrir esa puerta otra vez y revivir lo que perdió, otra vez. A veces creo que aunque Adler se plantee esta posibilidad, aunque se le diera, dudo que la tome porque no creo que ni él mismo sea capaz de sopesar si podría soportar otra pérdida igual que la de su familia. ¿Alguien recuerda como dejó todo por salvar a Woods al final de Black Ops 6? El hombre casi se nos muere y derrumba igual que la casa en llamas ante la posibilidad de perder a su único amigo. Como quinto punto y en base a una frase del modo zombies en black ops 6 me dejo pensando y aprovecho para explayarme. “Ojalá todos pudiéramos morir en un resplandor de gloria…” ¿Perdón? Obviamente este hombre no quiere tener una muerte normal, no quiere un ataúd y tampoco quiere la muerte de cualquier otro soldado de infantería. RUSSELL ADLER quiere algo A LO GRANDE, algo glorioso, un sacrificio por algo mayor a si mismo, algo eterno y duradero, un legado y no caer en el olvido como un simple agente más de la CIA. Para alguien como Adler, la muerte en sí no es el problema. Está dispuesto a morir en combate si es necesario. Pero la idea de que su historia termine sin haber hecho algo trascendental, sin haber dejado una marca, es diferente. No es un soldado más del montón, él quiere ser recordado. Su ego y su orgullo exigen que su nombre no sea solo otro archivo clasificado en una caja olvidada de la CIA. Como sexto punto, y tal vez relacionado a lo anterior diría que otro miedo es perderse a sí mismo. Adler no teme morir. Para él, la muerte es un riesgo asumido desde hace décadas. Lo que sí podría aterrarlo es ser reducido a algo menos que él mismo: perder su agudeza mental, su fuerza, su independencia. Ser un hombre roto, un cascarón vacío que ya no puede pelear, ni tomar decisiones, ni siquiera ser útil. Un derrame cerebral, una lesión grave, una tortura que lo deje incapacitado—eso sí es aterrador. Porque si Adler ya no puede ser Adler, ¿qué le queda? Y creo que habrá pensado en esto cuando Stich lo torturó y tuvo como prisionero en los 80s. Pero al menos salió vivo de eso.

Como séptimo ítem diría que otro de sus miedos es que su vida NUNCA haya significado algo realmente. Dudo que siga con el mismo espíritu de aquel joven Russell que se metió al ejército con 18 años. Pero ahora sus motivaciones claramente han cambiado y se han ido moldeando a lo largo de las décadas, recordemos que ahora tiene 54 años, para 1991. Su ego y su ambición lo empujan a dejar un legado, pero hay una duda profunda que nunca se permite examinar del todo: ¿y si al final de todo, nada de lo que hice importó? Ha pasado su vida en la CIA, manipulando, luchando en guerras secretas, traicionando y siendo traicionado. Ha perdido amigos, aliados, su matrimonio. Y cuando se mira en el espejo, cuando el silencio pesa más que cualquier misión, puede preguntarse: ¿valió la pena? Porque si la respuesta es no, entonces su vida no fue más que una serie de batallas sin sentido, un ciclo interminable de muerte y sombras. (y sospecho que el alcoholismo de Adler es en parte para callar su voz y esos pensamientos ante las dudas…). Para concluir con un último y octavo miedo de este rubio sexy diría que, y para no irnos con la moral tan baja, otro miedo menos común y tal vez algo inesperado sería que lo amen y no saber cómo manejarlo.Russ es un hombre que mantiene las distancias. No porque no pueda conectar con las personas, sino porque sabe que cuando lo hace, duele. Es más fácil ser el estratega frío, el líder impenetrable, que arriesgarse a sentir. Porque si alguna vez alguien lo ve realmente, con toda su furia, su daño, su obsesión por el control, su adicción a la adrenalina y la autodestrucción… ¿lo seguirían queriendo? ¿O se darían cuenta de que no es un hombre que pueda amar de verdad, al menos no de una manera sana?

Si alguna vez se encontrara con alguien que lo amara sin condiciones, sin esperar nada a cambio, eso podría desarmarlo más que cualquier enemigo. Porque el amor implica vulnerabilidad, y Adler no sabe qué hacer cuando no tiene el control.

Espero que algo de esto te haya gustado y no dudes en enviarme más preguntas, espero tengas un lindo día o noche también!! ^^ <3

#call of duty #russell adler #cod #black ops 6 #cod bo6 #call of duty black ops #bo6 #cod cold war #russell adler cod #call of duty cold war #cod cw #cod russell adler

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