#you just have to learn to live with it and being an adult is scheduling your time to scream.

[zombified-queer]

Listening to Hotelpod 2.7 is very enlightening about what the Hotel is.

[itsvelyria]

"how the f1 boys are when you work from home"

Charles Leclerc

he'll be pouting by your door the minute you start your work day. the reason for him being particularly clingy is because he doesn't get a lot of time with you already, due to his busy schedule. but now you're right in front of him yet he can't bother you? will puppy-dog-eye his way into keeping your door open so he can peek in occasionally to catch a glimpse of you at least. sometimes he says he's going out to run some errands because he's, after all, an independent adult who can spend a day by himself, but always comes back within an hour because he missed you too much to leave you alone.

Carlos Sainz

the sweetest, most considerate guy on Earth; he makes sure you have your breakfast before your work day, keeps his volume down when you're on a call and always has lunch ready when noon comes around. he will come to drag you out to have lunch with him at the kitchen counter even if you tell him you're too busy to take a break. when you are well-fed and back behind the table, he always pays the coffee shop around the corner a visit to bring you your favourite drink. both because he knows you're fighting a food coma and also to make you take a break.

Danny Ricciardo

your #1 supporter. when he learned you'll start having work from home days, he helped decorate your home office. he spent days reading up on ergonomic chairs and standing desks, even researching plants to brighten up the space. he is huge on work-life balance and always shows up at your door at 5 on the dot to drag you away from your laptop, to the gym or to a new restaurant you had mentioned in passing.

George Russell

by nature a very chill and relaxed guy, he leaves you alone for the most part to do his own thing. he's very extroverted though, so when he appears in the background of your video calls, he'll always says hi to to your colleagues or boss. one time you were on a call with a close colleague and he was putting away some books at the bookshelf behind you, chatted her up about her dog and ended up exchanging social medias, becoming your unexpected networking catalyst. it always brightens up your day because it shows how much he cares for the people in your life.

Lando Norris

he would constantly pop in to see you "needed anything" but honestly he just misses you and wants your attention, even if you're under the same roof. when you banned him from your office, he started sending TikToks and memes from the next room over, threatening to derail your focus but always making you giggle. the kind of partner who would hide Post-Its with funny scribbles and doodles among your work documents and wait for you to find them. when you ask him if he wants to get lunch together, the glee on his face is blinding and he shoots up like a little puppy.

Lewis Hamilton

probably the most mature partner on the grid; he likes the intimacy of quietly working together in a shared space. there's just something about soft classical music in the background while you two are working on your respective projects. the highlight of your day is when you take short breaks together in the kitchen over mugs of coffee — telling him of whatever office gossip you had come across while he rambles on about his upcoming campaign.

Max Verstappen

he is very understanding of how important your career and job is to you. while you work, he'll probably be on his simulator in the living room, making sure he keeps the doors closed so he doesn't disturb you. after a long day of you in your office and him of racing, you two like to have a quiet dinner on the couch with a movie playing. he lets you lie on his lap afterwards, stroking your hair gently as you rant about your workday.

[unreliablesnake]

Jealous Konig and Jealous Ghost fic respectively.

That’s all I ask for 🧎‍♀️

Note: I hope you'll like it. I love the idea of jealous Ghost. / If you want to know when I post new stuff, follow @unreliablesnakefics and hit the get notifications button. I don't have a taglist.

*******

GHOST

When Ghost was jealous, it showed.

While the two of you were out for a drink with a few friends, someone who tagged alone–a guy he had never seen before–tried to get a little too close to you. All he did was go to the bar for another beer, and when he returned, he noticed you being deep in a conversation with another man. He wasn't afraid you would end up being unfaithful, but he sure as hell wanted everyone to know you were spoken for.

So he stepped next to you, an arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you against his body as he flashed a casual smile at the guy. He didn’t say anything. He knew he didn’t have to. With his height, muscular build, and military training he could be intimidating enough to make them run away after apologizing for making a move on you.

But this guy didn’t bulge. He returned the smile and raised his drink a little before turning his attention back to you. The audacity of this asshole!

Ghost leaned down a little to rest his chin on top of your head, making it even more obvious that you were here with your boyfriend, not some random guy. “Let’s go home,” he told you, even though the guy was talking to you.

You looked up, meeting his gaze when he moved a little to see your eyes, but you only gave him a confused look. “It’s only eight,” you pointed out.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed the guy smirking. It took every ounce of willpower to keep himself from punching him in the face. But he would never do something like this when you were around, so he just kissed your temple and said, “I’m bored.”

“What, you have something better to do at home?” you asked innocently.

Ghost flashed a wide smile at you, glad the opportunity came in his way. “I have a few ideas,” he replied before kissing you gently. “We don’t even have to leave the bedroom for that,” he added, deliberately loud enough so that the guy could hear him.

You giggled as you wrapped your arms around his neck and stood on your toes to kiss him. When Ghost asked you if you would rather stay with your new friend, you asked, “What friend?”

This worked. That fucker let out a groan and left the two of you alone finally. With a victorious smile he picked you up and kissed you again, smiling to himself because apparently he was still the most important person in your life. He loved this. He loved knowing that he could always count on you.

KÖNIG

On the battlefield, König was extremely good at keeping his cool. He learned a lot there, things he could use in his personal life later on. But jealousy? That was the worst, something he couldn’t really handle.

It was clear that he was lucky to have you; a woman as beautiful as you would probably not deal with his hectic work schedule and the long missions he was sent on. Others might just get bored of waiting around and pursue a new relationship with someone who’s always available.

But you waited for him every single time. While he was gone, he always received spicy photos or videos, you were more than happy to help him get his release with phone sex, and sometimes you just sent him sweet messages that he cherished more than the adult contents.

This is why he felt like he’d been stabbed in the back when he found an unfamiliar man standing in your living room on the day he returned from a two months long mission. He saw your car outside, he knew you were home, so he assumed he was your… guest. He kept his cool for now, and he hoped his face only gave away his surprise and nothing more.

“You must be König,” the man suddenly said as he stood up from the couch and walked over to him to offer his hand.

The soldier shook it, his eyes watching the man curiously, trying to figure out what his intention was. “And you are?” he asked after some silence.

“Oh, good, you got to know each other,” you chirped when you entered the room.

The stranger returned to the couch, while you closed the gap between the two of you and gave him a hug. A hug. Where was the way you always kissed him after being apart for this long? He loved to keep you close, feeling your delicate hands on his arms or hips as you tried to keep your balance while tiptoeing to kiss him.

He gave you a questioning look, expecting an explanation that was long due in this situation. “He’s Frank. We work together,” you answered the question he never asked.

“And he’s here because?” he asked quietly, making sure the guy didn’t hear him.

You rolled your eyes, already knowing what this was all about. “I bought you a present and he helped me with it,” you explained. “Nothing happened, babe.”

König nodded. He didn’t want to talk about his insecurities in front of total strangers, so for now he decided to play along. He sat in the armchair next to the couch and started a conversation with Frank, asking him questions that made it feel like an interrogation. Do you have a significant other? Do you meet my girlfriend outside of work often?

And Frank gave him the answers he wanted. He didn’t have anyone at the moment, and yes, he did meet you outside of work when the team went out for a drink every once in a while. “Especially when you’re away for long and she gets lonely,” he added, twisting the knife he probably didn’t even know he was holding.

After a painfully long half an hour Frank suddenly realized he was in the way. Sure, he said he had something to take care of, but König knew the truth. Ever since he had first seen him, Frank had been intimidated by him. It wasn’t hard to be intimidating when he was a 6'10” tall and muscular soldier. Sometimes his size came in handy.

Once he left, you sat in his lap in the armchair and wrapped your arms around his neck. “He’s just a friend,” you assured him again.

His hands moved up your thighs, his thumb rubbing your skin as we watched you. It was enough for him, he believed you. At least that’s what he was trying to tell himself. In reality his mind was in overdrive for the rest of the day as he tried to figure out what you were doing every time he was away.

What if you had someone?

[drdemonprince]

It’s 9:30 am on a Monday, my regularly-scheduled time for a workout. Like always, I pad across the floor of the living room, roll out the yoga mat, arrange the dumbbells, and flip open my laptop to find a follow-along strength training video on YouTube.  The algorithm knows my patterns and proclivities. Populating the first row of content is a perfect encapsulation of my weekday psyche: a thirty-minute shoulders and abs video, a fresh episode of The Bald and the Beautiful to listen to while I complete it, and for relaxing afterward, a 60-minute livestream in which a sweet-faced middle-aged mother named Sammie is repeatedly dropped into a hypnotic trance and made to repeat mantras of obedience and servitude by her loving hypnotist and boyfriend.  I love all the sides of hypnotized Sammie: when she is made to be a giggling maid, and when she dons fuzzy ears and mewls like a cat; when she devotedly calls her hypnotist Master and erases her memories for him, and when she freezes, smilingly, into a happy doll begging to be played with. I’ve watched all of her hours-long livestreams in their entirety, some of them multiple times, her vacant, entranced stares and stiff, robotic movements sending my own body roaring into a satisfied climax, sometimes without even touching myself.  But I am not attracted to Sammie at all. In fact, I’m not at all attracted to women. To the extent that my sexuality involves making contact with other people, I’m a gay man, exclusively interested in other queer men. But to even bother with that distinction confuses things a bit, because ultimately my sexual orientation does not hinge upon people’s identities or bodies. Though I can admire the beauty of all kinds of people, and even feel a handsome man igniting my curiosity at times, ultimately I’m just not really “into” human beings at all. What I’m into is hypnosis. Or mind control, brainwashing, and conditioning, if you like. Hypnosis is the bedrock that holds my psychosexual landscape together; without it any potential engagement in sex slips, and falls apart into nothing. Hypnosis is the anchor that keeps my insatiable libido grounded; without it, any possibility of having satisfying sex floats away, and my mind dissociates from the event as it’s happening.   I’m a deeply sexual person, and I always have been. I discovered masturbation early, at around four or five, and took part in it actively, getting caught a few times as a kid before I learned to sequester into my bedroom for it early in the morning and late at night. Beginning in my teen years, I got into the habit of pleasuring myself for between an hour and a half to two hours per day, and that rate has continued throughout much of my adult life.  And yet, I am also asexual — because as much as my body craves sexual release, and as often as I pursue sex, my drive has no relationship to how other people look, or anything else about them, and my release doesn’t need to involve any specific sexual activities at all.  Hypnosis is sex to me. Even in its most stagey and sterile forms, I find it inescapably erotic — and that leaves sex itself as just some boring party trick. You can touch me, or you can perform a series of backflips in front of me on the floor; either way I’ll tell you that you’ve done a very impressive job and all but it will not make me cum. 

You can read (or listen to!) the full essay for free at drdevonprice.substack.com

[leidensygdom]

Ok, I'm gonna start a post idea I had been pondering. If you're either mentally or physically disabled and you have opinions about representation, this is the thread for you!

So, I've been seeing more people trying to tackle the topic of autism in their stories, but I've felt some of it tries to woobify a bit what is to live with autism, or just focus on the more socially acceptable quirks of it. And as someone with autism/ADHD (was suspected of it for most of my life, got it finally diagnosed by my therapist (who specializes in autism and ADHD) last year), sometimes I'd like for people to acknowledge the more unsavoury parts of it, the weird quirks, etc.

So, this post is going to be about that- If you wanna help people understand how your disability/neurodivergency affects your life, feel free to add to it! Just mention what do you have (no need for a full list, just what you consider relevant to the post) and some experiences, quirks, anecdotes or such that you think that are not often seen in stories or media, and that you consider an important part of it. They don't need to be huge things! I encourage people to share just whatever they feel comfortable. My list is gonna be a mix of stuff, but yours can be very different. Let me start!

Clothes and how they feel was surprisingly one of the most disruptive parts of my autism. As a kid, if I was forced to wear something that caused me some bad texture/sensitivity issues, it would significantly affect my behaviour and performance. It took me many years to be allowed to use mostly sportswear. (And it turns out being a "girl" (not anymore) wearing only sportswear tends to cause a whole lot of bullying)

This happens even nowadays. I've found out that non-heeled boots are more comfortable to me than sport shoes, because feeling something against the back of my foot makes me feel overwhelmed. I tend to wear yoga pants under actual pants, because they keep the actual pants' seams from causing sensory issues. There's almost a sort of ritual on how do I need to combine clothes to be able to function "normally", mostly consisting on reducing how much they annoy me.

On that topic, hygiene is actually a huge thing too. As a kid, I wasn't allowed to shower daily. Days I didn't shower, no matter how much I tried to keep my hygiene in other days, were "bad days" to me. I would literally plan hanging out with friends or eating out around the days I was allowed to shower. I could physically feel the difference between the day I showered and the day I didn't (even if I washed my face, armpits, used the bidet, etc).

This is true even nowadays. I can thankfully now shower daily, which isn't recommended by a lot of experts (specially because it can damage your hair and skin), but it's more worth to me than having days where I feel like I shouldn't be seen in public.

Being overwhelmed sucks! Meltdowns are mostly associated with kids, mostly because adults either learn to mask them, or do everything they can to AVOID having that meltdown. I've mostly figured out routines and such. There's this one place we go eat out every other Tuesday- And in the hours we go in, there's a sort of silent corner that is always free. This week's schedule was a mess, so we went yesterday to that same place, and the silent corner was filled with a very loud group. I got extremely overwhelmed. But enough masking drilled to me means I just sat there unable to talk for maybe 30 minutes.

Autistic adults still do have autism and experience often the full spread of traits, they've just found ways to mask, or avoid being in situations where they do need to do that. I've adapted my life and routine to that. But sometimes I land on situations out of my comfort zone that will make me feel just like when I was a kid. I want to freelance online because I'm fully aware I can't perform properly in a public facing job.

Group projects sucked so much. I know they suck for most people, but most times it was easier for me to do the entirety of the project by myself and add the others' names to it than dealing with chasing people for their parts. My college had a 6-months-long massive group project in the last year, with a 7 people group, which obviously I couldn't do alone. The whole experience was so harmful in so many ways I've had several full therapy sessions talking about it :'')

One of the reasons it's because mental flexibility is HARD with autism. If i set a schedule, I expect that schedule to be followed. If people agree to do a part, I expect that part to be delivered (unless there's a proper reason) on due time. People hate this a lot usually! It will tear group projects apart!

Stimming can be harmless, or it can be very annoying to some. I tend to shake legs and play with something in my hands. I could easy this off drawing in classes- My high school found out that I was paying more attention when I was allowed to draw in classes, and my academic performance was pretty much perfect, so they gave me permission to do that.

However, I had a teacher in middle school that did forbid me from drawing. I stimmed during a class with pens- She got so mad she sent me home with a note to my parents they had to sign. Fun!

Not exactly an anecdote, but I am ace. I hate the discourse about "making an autistic person be aro or ace is infantilizing autism". Aro/ace people can have autism. That's just how it is. I've been infantilized a lot for being ace- Which only got worse because I am autistic, and people perceived some of my special interests as child-ish. The combo didn't make things easy.

On that topic, people will often be very patronizing of your opinions or takes for being autistic. I've had people debate my sexuality (or lack of thereof), my gender identity and presentation, my hobbies, my preferences for everything, down to "what do you want to eat tonight?". This isn't too different to shitty takes about how "autistic people are more prone to being affected by the trans activistsTM", because people assume autistic people can't choose on their own. Trust me: We can.

Anyhow, I'd love if this post could be a good compilation of these sort of anecdotes! I think it could help people who wanna learn more about what is it to live with specific disabilities (and how to better portray them in media)

[cheriladycl01]

The Rookie Prodigy - Carlos Sainz x Driver! Reader Part 4

Plot: You are a rookie coming into the 2022 season of Formula One into Alfa Romeo with team member Zhou Guanyu, being in a mid tier team can you help them rise up the ranks. What pressures occur for the only rookies within the 2022 line up!

Credit to macrazylive for the GIF

After Saudi, you and Zhou travelled all the way back to Switzerland to the Sauber Factory where you had a debrief. You talked about your unfortunate DNF but how it shouldn't affect you going into Australia. Talked about Zhou's consistent P11 and that he just needed to push a little harder to get in the reach of points.

You'd spent a good few days there, getting photo's, doing promo's for some of the sponsor brands you guys were partnered with this year and trying to work out what you guys could improve on the car.

It was a good few days but, heading back to your parents home was strange. Nowhere had quiet ever felt like home to you, you'd lived between houses and hotels, the closest experience you'd ever had to finding a home was with Zhou and his family.

They would take you out for karting together and you would stay in the spare bedroom.

Once you left Switzerland you spent all your time up until race weekend with your family. Now they were a little older and had retired they'd managed to retire with quite the fortune, enough to keep them going on holidays whenever they felt like it.

They had time for you now, which felt even stranger considering you were never that close to your parents arguably when you needed them the most and now that you were an adult with your own place they wanted to get to know you.

You couldn't decide if it was painful and endearing, but when they asked to attend the Australian race with you, you felt like things were getting weird.

They of course offered to pay for their own flights, hotel and any other expenses but they wanted to actually see you drive.

So now you were sat in the First Class lounge in Qatar waiting for your connection to Australia.

"How are you feeling about the race?" your dad asks you.

"Yeah, I mean... it's been hard you know I have no-one to look up to on the team. Zhou and I are setting the standard together. In some ways that drives me more, but at the same time it's a lot of self learning this year!" you nod, not really sure how you were feeling about your team this year.

"Do you think they'll see you talent and get you in a better car next year?" your mothers asks.

"I'm not sure, Charles did it after one year... maybe I can too. But everyone seems pretty set on where they are right now!" you explain, knowing the grid seemed pretty locked up until 2024. The only place you might be able to go would Red Bull if they took Sergio Perez out, which was likely considering he was struggling to second Max. But he'd most likely be replaced with the Red Bull B team, AlphaTauri. It was all very up in the air.

The race weekend started up and you barley saw people outside of you team. You tried to find Daniel, to see of he'd come round the city with you but it wasn't looking likely with the tight schedule you had.

"Y/N! Y/N Wait up!" a voice shout's coming out of the Ferrari hospitality, you head spins looking to who the voice come from, but because of the accent you already knew.

"Hello Carlos!" you smile, looking over him. He was wearing his team polo similar to you and jeans although you were wearing shorts as it was extremely hot.

"Come with me!" he tells you, grabbing your arm and pulling you through the paddock.

The great thing about the paddock was how busy it was, it was rare for you to get spotted or caught on camera because everyone was running around, moving stuff, getting to the places they needed to be, helping lost fans who had paddock passes.

Carlos pulled you into the back of the Ferrari motorhome close to the garage where the tires were all stacked and lined up.

"You look so beautiful" he smiles, tucking some hair behind your ear. You blushed not expecting the light touch.

"I'm just in my team gear Carlos!" you giggle, not understanding the appeal.

"Well, i think you look beautiful in everything, a true work of art" he smiles and before you can even thank him or react, he places a hand on your cheek. He starts to lean in, and it feels like your heart is moving so quickly unlike everything else that seems to slow.

And the worst part is you find yourself leaning in too.

You'd sworn you'd never date or get involved with a fellow driver just because you knew it wouldn't end well.

However, when your lips joined you couldn't stop yourself pushing yourself closer into him, deepening the kiss further. He held you closer, the kiss getting more and more heated making him grab at your hips, squeezing them tightly.

"Carlos!" you whisper looking into those vacant brown eyes that didn't have a thing swimming behind them other than adoration. You'd always thought his eyes looked so clueless like a confused puppy.

"Yes mi carina" he says looking down at you, in seconds your lifted up pushed against the wall as he helps your legs wrap around him before his lips attach themselves to yours again.

"Carlos, no we cant" you say pulling away, you push against his chest, and unwrap your legs from around his waist, accidentally pushing your crotch into his making him groan in satisfaction. You can feel him under his own trousers and it makes you scramble even quicker to get your two feet on the ground.

"W-What?" he asks panting a little from the heated make-out.

"We- we cant be doing this. We are colleges professional athlete colleges. And, its a conflict of interest. I'd be at risk for loosing my seat. We just cant do anything, I'm sorry" you explain with a frown before walking off. You shake your head, knowing you'd done the right thing, for the betterment of your career.

As a female you always had to be more careful what you did and what you said as your seat was already more at risk than anyone else's on the grid. You couldn't make this kind of blunder as it would simply ruin your career.

You made your way back to the Alpha Romeo garage, and you knew you'd have to avoid Carlos for the rest of the weekend until you could talk to someone privately and trusted about everything that happened.

You knew it would be Zhou, but you couldn't talk to him now with the nosy members in the garage that would always be wondering what was going on the drivers room, just to get the scoop.

The race was the most interesting Carlos head wasnt in the game after what happened with you. He was overthinking everything and when he got onto the race track, that all relayed. He made a stupid move, backed out of an overtake and spun off which was awful considering he'd qualified P8 and has a good line up to make his way up the ranks and get the team more points, maybe even a double Ferrari podium.

You on the other hand was solely focused on racing, your team only told you it was a Ferrari that crashed out, you made your way up the grid from twelfth where you'd originally started to end up in P8, your team were ecstatic for you but again Zhou missed out on the points for a rookie era that cost him, points of a second on P10.

"So how do you feel about P8, great come back after your unfortunate DNF in Saudi!" the interviewer asks you and you had the biggest smile on your face.

"Amazing, obviously its great from the team getting those points again, I think me and Zhou are both still learning as rookies and it can be hard where we are both rookies on the same team, but I think the more races we do the better drivers we become. Today was hard, but I'm happy where we are right now!" you grin explaining to the interviewer your feelings.

"It really was an amazing race for you today. I think I'll be bold and say that all of us are excited to see what you can do in a better car!" he smiles at you and you nod.

"I think it's really funny you say that. As a rookie, coming from F2 the car's are majorly different so getting used to a mid field car is much easier than fighting your own skills in the likes of a Ferrari or Mercedes or a Championship car of the Red Bull. So I'm happy gaining the skills I am, in the car that I am in now. It's a good car and I have a great team behind me!" you explain and he nods, loving your level of maturity.

"Well, we are all really excited to see what you can bring to the table in IMOLA, what do you plan to do with that break?" he asks and you shake your head.

"Yeah, I'm excited for IMOLA, its got some really tight corners that I'm excited to see how the car holds up! As for my break, I'll be training making sure my body is ready for a fight and in top notch condition, my trainers told me no cheat days until after IMOLA now, so it's going to be intense" you joke before he offers you a goodbye and you leave.

As your PR manager pulls you to the car, you look over seeing Carlos watching you, stood by his personal trainer watching you get into the car, a sad look resting on his face.

"Awww poor Carlos, he must be gutted about the DNF" you manager says catching whats distracted you.

"Yeah, poor him!" you mutter.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @teamnovalak @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @jlb20416 @yourbane

[mcdonaldsnumberone]

STILL ALIVE!

tobio kageyama learns to fall in love with the small things. although in his eyes, no thing is truly small as long as you're involved in it. a ruined kitchen for a strawberry tart is a small price to pay to admire your everyday.

gender neutral reader

if you enjoyed reading this fic, please consider donating to providing aid in palestine!

Tobio found out not too long after you moved in with him that he liked watching you while you worked your magic in the kitchen. 

He was always a stickler for what he ate. Ever since he was young, the adults around him hammered the importance of food and its nutritious properties into his volleyball-filled head, and like the good boy he was, Tobio took everything they said with a great deal of respect and dedicated himself into his strict upkeep so that he could do his best on the court. Now as an adult, he adhered to a strict diet of nutritious vegetables and plenty of protein. But given that his mind was hyperfixated on volleyball and he was never one to get super creative in the kitchen, there was never much variety to his diet outside of his regular rotation of healthy meals tailor-made for a professional athlete’s needs. 

Frankly speaking, he never thought he’d need too much variety. Tobio was a man of schedule, of regularity, of volleyball and volleyball only. Everything he did, from maintaining his nails whenever he got the chance to doing finger exercises with weights before bed, was to augment his skills as an athlete. His food was no exception. He wasn’t picky. All he needed was the proper nutrients to fuel his body, and as long as it didn’t taste horrendously awful, he was fine with it. 

Once he started dating you though, he started eating other things more and more. At first it was ordering a slice of espresso-tinged tiramisu occasionally while on a date with you, and then it turned into you insisting on packing him a bento box whenever his practices and matches required for him to be out of the house all day. Next thing he knew, you’d greet him with a piping hot dinner whenever he trudged back home, and the aches in his limbs seemed to melt away as he wolfed down whatever you had whipped up while he was gone. It was never the same two meals in a row, and despite being unused to unpredictability, Tobio found himself looking forward to mealtimes specifically with you.

He learned early on in his life, thanks to his grandfather, that cooking for someone was an art just as much as it was an underappreciated act of love. And with each bite, he savored the love that you must have poured into it, just as much as he dedicated himself to perfecting his craft in order to show you how far your love took him. There were times he wished he was an eloquent man, a more romantic man, so that he could actually articulate all the fuzzy feelings overwhelming him whenever you made food for him.

But you didn’t need words to understand him.

And he loved you.

He barely stifled a smile as he sat a few feet away from the kitchen, where you were frantically scurrying around. He knew you were probably frazzled, desperately scrolling through the recipe websites that had videos and ads scattered throughout them to make it almost impossible to access the actual recipe. But the cacophony of your slightly annoyed exhales, the banging of pots and pans, and the clatter of glass plates being shifted around every now and then were like a sweet melody to Tobio.

He feigned interest in the match he was supposed to be studying, and he stole a glance across the living room to see you dump something into a big bowl before sticking your hands into the mixture. Tobio has loved you for as long as he has known you, but there was something especially calming and bewitching about seeing you do something so ordinary. He stared at you with a softness in his eyes he couldn’t quite describe, a softness that he wasn’t even aware was there half of the time, as he watched you let out little grunts to work whatever tough dough you were kneading. 

The apron you insisted on wearing was already skewed, and he knew that by the end of your little cooking session, the apron would have done nothing to keep your clothes from getting covered in bits of food. Your eyes were fixed downwards in concentration, the skin in between scrunched up cutely. Your sleeves were rolled up but not quite secure as you might have hoped, and Tobio could also see that in a few minutes they would probably become undone and you’d have to call him over to ask him to roll them up properly for you since your hands were covered in sticky dough.

Tobio believed love was in the little things. Love was in the way he’d accept an earful from his dietician from sneaking in one too many desserts that you insisted on him having. Love was in the way he let himself get distracted so he could watch you make a mess out of the kitchen counter, and he prayed that you never learned how to clean the countertop off thoroughly because he loved going over and wiping off the marks of sauce and flour with a clean dishrag of his own. Love was in the way you cheekily stole a lick of the sweet dough from your fingers before washing your hands off in the sink, your sleeves rolling down your forearms and wrists and the telltale loud yelp you let out when the sink water lapped at the edges.

“Tobio!” You cried out, yanking your hands away from the sink. A few water droplets dripped down from the back of your hands and alongside the silhouette of your fingers. Your hands were always so much smaller in comparison to his wide, calloused palms, and the drops of water fell helplessly onto the floor. “Can you help me roll my sleeves on?”

He acted as if he hadn’t been staring at you for more or less the entire time, and he hurriedly paused the match. He would have to rewind it and rewatch it later, but he had a much more urgent task at hand. You grinned at him as he shuffled his way into the kitchen, and you held your arms up.

“What are you making?” The smell of something sweet had been wafting through the house a long time ago, the notes of sugar and vanilla intermingling all throughout the atmosphere. The kitchen looked as if a hurricane had passed through it: a mountain of dirty tools splayed out on the table, flour spread across a section of the countertop, and the cabinet doors thrown open and not properly closed. Had he been someone else, or any less in love with you, he might have considered all of this as an eyesore or a mountain of impossible chores, but Tobio’s heart swelled so much in his chest that he felt like he was struggling to keep his usual stoic expression.

“A tart!” You announced proudly. His fingertips brushed against the delicate skin of your wrists as he folded your sleeves over, and he made sure they wouldn’t fall down again. “Do you remember the restaurant we had dinner at last week? The one where I got a slice of strawberry tart for dessert? Oh, I couldn’t stop thinking about it… So I decided I was going to try making it myself! You’ll have some once I finish making it, right?”

That’s if you actually manage to make it. The thought bubbled to the forefront of Tobio’s mind, accompanied with a defeated but still adoring smile. It looked like he was in for another long lecture about watching his sugar consumption from his dietician, but he would gladly take an eon of scoldings than pass up on a chance to eat the treats you made. 

He picked up the tart crust sitting in its pan, and he gestured towards the heated oven. “Why don’t we put this in the oven to bake first? But yeah, I would love to have a slice once you’re done.”

You beamed at him, laughing sheepishly at your airheadedness before stepping aside for him to maneuver the delicate tart crust into the oven. If he looked closely, he could see where you had filled the holes in the crust with extra dough. Bits and pieces of the edges were lumpy and not quite fully adhered to the shape of the pan. He already knew it wouldn’t look anything like the pretty store-bought crusts or the expertly crafted ones in the bakeries around town, but judging from the fingerprints etched into the dough and your giddiness, Tobio would happily pass it off as a Michelin star pastry if anyone cared for his opinion.

“You’re the best!” You gushed at him as he walked past, and he let a flash of pride light up the inside of his chest as he settled back down in the living room. You hummed some tune slightly out of pitch as he settled back down into the couch, turning the game back on. The sounds of commentary and the players quickly melted into background noise when he found his eyes sneaking back over to you, splashing water all over the surrounding areas of the sink as you rinsed the strawberries in order to chop them up.

The bright crimson of the fruit stood in contrast to your skin, and Tobio’s eyes crawled all over the shape of your pinched fingers. You carefully sliced them up to the size you wanted, the knife marks a little jagged and not super straight. But they were perfect in your eyes, so they were also perfect in Tobio’s eyes. He can imagine the sour pangs of the fruit in his own mouth when you chow down on a handful of strawberry pieces that didn’t quite make your cut. Your fingertips, the cutting board, and a small part of your apron was stained with the pink, sticky strawberry juice, but you looked so proud scooping up the bits of strawberry and setting them aside. 

None of this was particularly special, but Tobio admired you from afar as if his vision had been coated over with honey. But he lived for these small moments, lived for the trivial everyday parts, like you dancing around in the kitchen with strawberry juice and dough bits stuck to you, and Tobio would be mesmerized all the same as if he was staring at you at the wedding altar. And god, does he hope a day like that might come, where he can make these small scenes a promised reality for the rest of his life, taking in the beauty from places you would never have expected and uncovering different ways for him to fall in love with you all over again.

He wished the thirty minute timer you set for the tart crust to bake could last forever. He could die a happy man, right here and now, eyes fixed on you until the end of time as you happily turned the kitchen upside-down in order to satisfy your craving for a sweet treat. He loved the way you approached life with a newfound vigor that bled into his own day-to-day, turning his bland and predictable meals into something for him to look forward to, be it a recipe you pulled from a social media website or you doing your best to recreate the dishes he enjoyed so much in his childhood. You always went the extra mile for him, the same way he did for you. Tobio didn’t need any grand gestures of love, nor was he one for anything like that, and he would rather learn how to love and be loved through these small, continual motions that came and went like the gentle pull of the waves to the silver-tinted moon.

But for now, he let the softness of the couch envelop him as he watched you from across the room, the pitter-patter of your bare feet on the kitchen tile like the sounds of wedding bells. He didn’t need to taste the unfinished strawberry tart to know that he was going to taste every bit of it like it was his last meal, swallowing the warmth back like an oath and a promise, to cherish and love you for as long as this life would let him.

Nothing could be sweeter.

x

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[teal-sword]

Diluc x male reader

M-A-M-A B-O-Y

Mama's boy

Mama's boy

Mama's boy.

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You were a multitude of ways a Mama's boy in an funny and cruel way.

She was the only one you really had for a while, growing up poor without a father she provided and helped you with everything and tried to give you everything you asked and she could reach.

In return you loved her more than any beautifully made toy, even as you grew older and both of your lives became more financially stable you included her in plans like 'what am I going to be when I grow up'

You visit her house once a week or 2 times a month depending on your schedule

No matter how much you didn't like them you'd tolerate the loser boyfriends that ended up being dumped later on because they gave her a bit more happiness and time then you can in your adult life

But then there's the side you have to face about her.

Her temper wasn't the best, anything bad without good enough proof was your fault, she was toxic yet loving which is confusing

But she was still the first person to ever love you so some good, some bad

Then it happened... you got a letter from her caretaker

in her own house.. she took a little nap in her wheelchair after going on a walk to feed and see a few birds and she never woke up

How pathetic. A grown man sitting alone in a tavern drinking away late at night with no one but Master Diluc around serving drinks, crying about his mommy

It made you feel so small and you were, you felt like the boy who was teased again and again for not having a father but this time mama won't wipe your tears away, kiss your cheek, give you a snack and say it doesn't matter as long as we're together

Shes gone. And you're stuck to figure out life without accounting her into everything

"ughhh"

"Hic"

Diluc looks at you

'i was going to give myself a break but this poor man is here crying about god knows what'

"master Dliuc.."

You slurred

"ihmm surrry to be insev- insensa- ahem insensitive but, hic h-how did you get over yur dad hic master crepus dyinny?"

Dliuc looked at you not going to lie he was shocked no one's had the nerve to ask him that, sure you were under the influence and would have never asked that under normal conditions but it still shocked him what's worse is that he didn't know how to answer

"... I didn't take it well.. I fought with Kaeya right after actually.. (I'm not saying why) but I started living with it and doing things for him.. I can't explain it but you just learn you need to live"

.you looked up at him

.your face went blank for once and you thought about it

. maybe he's right..

"Wohw that's.. uhmm hic really smartf thnxxx"

'And he passed out'

Dliuc stared at your sleeping body that leaned on the counter

Your breathing was calm.. like how normally were

You normally never drank much. And you were probably the most responsible drinker he had considering how he's usually on the night shift

"you aren't so bad Y/n."

[kelseytheballerina]

Did you live at home before moving in with your husband? I am living at home as an early 20s woman and I still feel like a teenager but I don't have the means to move out yet. My parents also still see me as a kid and I don't know how to eventually take the leap and be on my own.

Not with my parents but with a different family member out of state. They took care of expenses in exchange for me helping out around the house so I could focus on school and not have to pay for housing. I was still very much a kid too for a while. Very very much so, mostly bc I grew up extremely sheltered and my entire existence was to be a good student and excel in my extracurriculars. Street smarts, life skills, things like that were never fully developed. For people like me, being with family will only enable you but at the same time you wouldn’t survive being thrown to the wolves so you feel stuck between a rock and a hard place.

I had to loosen the ropes on my safety net and force myself to grow up whether my family liked it or not. Setting my own schedules, stopped asking for so much permission, owning up to all my mistakes and learning how to take full accountability no matter how small something was (it’s hard to be taken seriously as an adult when everything is met with excuses and why something isn’t your fault). Getting a job and making my savings and credit score of utmost importance to me (they were taking care of my expenses so I just saved all the money from my job but if you can’t do that then save as much as you can), trying to find my own way and relying on them less and less, taking on more and more responsibility around the house and proving myself to be a can-do individual. Always making sure to stick to my word and honor my commitments. Standing my ground and being strong in my convictions because I actually did proper research and knew what I was talking about, learning to navigate tough conversations with firm but respectful language.

These are just some places to start but only you know where you’re lacking and what your shortcomings are. Write them down if you must and make your ‘grow up glow up’ a top priority. You should be a whole new person by this time next year or else you’re still being way too comfortable. When the time comes for you to move out, you’ll know it and you’ll be much more prepared.

[gothra]

I’m currently on a rewatch of Supernatural, and I’m noticing a parallel with an aspect of Eric Kripke’s other project, something that I didn’t notice or care about the first time(s) I watched the show, but now I can’t stop thinking about. This relates to Sam Winchester’s consumption of demon blood and character’s (Hughie’s especially) usage of Temp V, and the language pertaining to morality that surround both of these aspects of the story.

Spoilers incoming.

In the earlier seasons of Supernatural, we establish that Sam Winchester has psychic powers due to being giving a demon’s blood as an infant.

As an adult, Sam starts getting visions pertaining to what are now his growing psychic powers, it’s only until later in the early seasons that we learn that Sam has discovered a way to control demons, by drinking demon blood, which heightens his psychic powers.

The powers he has are very useful and they come in handy multiple times. Sam can exorcise demons with his mind, a job that, before the use of demon blood, was done with a long Latin spell (that usually had to be uttered while a demon was rocking their shit) or couldn’t be done at all, requiring Sam and Dean to kill demons with a special kind of knife. Exorcism is safer for the vessel, but difficult to do, and stabbing the demons is a bit easier (not including getting within stabbing range) but it kills the demon and the vessel, which, from time to time is still being inhabited by a poor human soul that is forced to watch as the demon uses their body to do despicable things. Sam’s powers save their lives, too. He can toss demons around like ragdolls, too, and THAT comes in handy, too.

Sam’s powers are fucking cool. Not just that, they’re nearly a net positive.

Sam’s powers don’t really have a serious downside. It really seems like they would have written a severe downside into something so extreme as drinking demon blood, but they didn’t! No physical side-effects, meaning Sam’s physical body does not change, chafe, rot, or fall off every time he drinks the blood. He doesn’t hallucinate or get sick or get crazy headaches when he drinks it, just when he uses his psychic powers, and it hurts less the more he uses them. The only time he experiences physical side-effects is when he suffers from withdrawals from it. It doesn’t really alter his personality outside of the stress of hiding it and the shame of drinking it, which is to be expected. Like my friend Tyler said, “It doesn’t even make him bitchy, like when he was soulless”. There’s not even any moral problems with the method that Sam uses to collect demon blood. He drinks the blood of a demon he’s in a sexual relationship with, and she consents and encourages him to do so. He doesn’t run around kidnapping random demons and bleeding them until their vessels have run dry. He doesn’t have to do anything bad to get the demon blood. Sam doesn’t even need to drink a lot of it to deal with the demons they typically run into. Sure, he’s had to drink a lot more when it’s a bigger demon, but I wouldn’t expect anything less.

So, you can imagine my confusion upon rewatch when I realized that nobody else seemed to be on board. It would be understandable if they were tentative, or awkward or even squicked out by the blood aspect. But basically everyone Sam tells about his powers is disappointed in or angry at Sam for drinking demon blood. Mind you, this storyline is coming at a place in the Supernatural story where demons are running rampant. Sam is being mentally plagued by the demon that dropped blood into his mouth as an infant, all while he’s working with the demon who gives him the blood and helps him with his powers to take down an even bigger demon. It’s demons all the way down, yet, everyone takes the time out of their busy demon-slaying schedule to admonish Sam for drinking the blood and using his powers to help out.

Let me tell you, it’s maddening, watching people get angry at the wrong thing. It’s maddening to watch people apologize for doing something good because someone else has decided that their wrath is more important. Dean (Sam’s brother) has Sam in a moral chokehold the entire season, lecturing him, insulting him, pushing Sam aside for something that ultimately is nothing more than Dean’s personal issue. And because it’s Dean’s personal issue and Dean is a narrative favorite, his emotional and psychological needs are ultimately more important. Often, Sam doesn’t get what he deserves. His character experiences (literally) soul-destroying setbacks, and still, he is made to feel bad for doing something, when the benefits of that thing far outweigh the positives, and the negatives of that thing come off as a noble sacrifice.

You’d think I would get tired of talking about how much of a let down Season 3 of the boys is. But I got a burst of renewed energy once I realized I had something to talk about that intersected in a way that I could actually witness with my own eyes. Do I regret getting pulled back into SPN? A little bit. But, here’s the point of this:

Hughie and Sam play the same role in their respective stories. They are two people who have been deeply hurt, traumatized, damaged, and who desperately want to do some good. They both want to make a difference and make a dent in their missions.

Temp V is different than demon blood. This time, Kripke added side-effects. But the side-effects of Temp V don’t change the fact that the benefits of using it are obvious and immediate. When Butcher and Hughie use Temp V, important things happen. They came close to killing Homelander, just a pinch away. It worked. The thing that they were using the drugs for almost happened. So, denying its usefulness would be pointless.

This time, Kripke learned from his mistake. Sam didn’t experience any negative side-effects, and his personality changes seemed to be due to the stress of hiding it from his brother and constantly arguing about and attempting to justify his actions. The benefits outweighed the negatives. Hughie, on the other hand, experienced a remarkable (some would say, completely unbelievable and out of character) personality shift. Suddenly, his motives were different, ego-driven, selfish, and they tainted his actions, turning them from moral and noble, to self-centered. In Hughie’s case, the negatives and the positives are placed on an equal scale, in my opinion, by force. I think that the personality changes that they wrote for Hughie are absolutely not fitting at all, but were put in place because if they weren’t there, anyone who thought about it for more than one minute would realize that admonishing Hughie for his use of a helpful super drug is stupid. If Hughie only experienced the brain damage, he could be considered noble and brave for what he was doing. It would be tragic that he’d have to stop, and if he considered continuing to use the drug to take down Homelander after he learned about the side effects, it would endear us to Hughie and his self-sacrifice. If he only experiences the psychological side-effects, than we can even the score, then his selfishness could be enough to paint his use of Temp V as bad, as if his selfishness alone is enough to overwrite or match the immediate benefit to the mission, as if Hughie’s personal morals being in jeopardy outweigh the fact that their goal is to kill a maniacal rapist who, if given the chance, WILL kill them all, and ANYONE who stands in his way or upsets him or makes him feel inferior.

For both Sam and Hughie, they are being positioned against characters who should be considered wrong, and who should be confronted with their wrongness and never are, because their feelings on the issue, likely act as a stand-in for Eric’s feelings, and therefore, they become the narrative favorite. Dean is the suave, handsome womanizer with the gruff, yet charming personality and combat skills, and Sam is his brother. Annie is the Strong Female Character, who defies everyone because Eric needs to prove he knows how to create good female characters (he hasn’t proved that) and Hughie is her boyfriend.

Ultimately the similarities are striking. I’ve got many ideas about the reasons why Eric wrote Season 3 this way, and why he wrote Sam’s story like that, and the likelihood of these reasons increase and decrease the more I think about each of them, but that’s a separate issue and I’m very tired 😞

@deliciouskeys and @bisexualhomelander how did I do?

[genshin-impacted]

Exchange of Rings

(Alhaitham x Reader - 3/?) 

You and Alhaitham learn about each other while living together. Neither of you mind what you're seeing (or hearing). OR cooking + hobbies + singing

Word Count: ~3.5k

Notes: afab!reader, second person pov “you”, gn!reader, switches pov with Alhaitham, modern au, arranged marriage, fall first/fall harder, suggestive themes, slow burn

[Previous - Next]

.

.

.

Like most working adults, you and Alhaitham are gone for most of the day and home at around sunset. With your differing schedules, you don’t get to see each other for most of the week. Still, the two of you begin to develop a routine together with the awareness that you are no longer living alone. 

It means making more food so the two of you can pack the leftovers for lunch. Having cooked at home for your family, you have less trouble adapting the portions to make enough for the two of you, but for the first nights Alhaitham made dinner, there was nothing to bring to work the next day. It wasn’t a big deal, but Alhaitham seemed inordinately upset, if only because he had believed he had made enough for four people and increased the proportion of ingredients appropriately. 

You think you were partially to blame, considering you probably ate enough saffron rice for maybe two and a half people, and you tell him just as much. You were half-joking, but Alhaitham leveled you a look. Before you could get nervous and actually apologize, he nodded to himself. 

“I’ll simply increase the proportions two-fold next time,” Alhaitham said. “I should have taken into consideration both of our individual diet patterns when calculating.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine, really,” you stammered, feeling your face heat up. “Your cooking is just really good. I don’t eat that much usually.”

Alhaitham had stared at you again, observing you, and it is now a feeling you have grown familiar with, though it still makes you feel the need to look away. It’s not as though it really bothers you; if it had, you don’t think you would survive in this relationship where Alhaitham is prone to thinking before speaking. (Sometimes, for a long time.)

In some ways, the way Alhaitham looks at you makes you feel seen. And that’s why it’s embarrassing, you think: you feel as though he can tell who you really are behind the polite pretenses and manners hammered into your psyche. 

Just when you think he’s decided to drop the topic, he said, “There’s no need to be embarrassed. There’s nothing wrong with a big appetite. If you were worried about your diet or appearance-”

“Speaking about food,” you interrupted, voice a twinge higher, “is this your mom’s recipe? It’s really good!”  

You can still palpate his desire to continue the previous conversation even as he graciously allowed you to talk about the subject of the day. 

.

Living together also means waking up to an alarm and clicking snooze only twice– maximum. The two of you actually had a serious discussion about this, having apparently shared the scenario of an unfortunate roommate pressing snooze every five minutes for a half hour. 

The two of you already worked out the chores; some things you do together (dusting, cooking, setting up the table), while others you take turns doing. The topic of laundry came up and Alhaitham is the one suggesting doing individual loads for the time being, justifying by saying that he probably will have to do it more often. Which is fair, you think, you take up twice as much closet space as Alhaitham, so that means he has less clothes to rotate through in general. 

What he lacks in closet space, Alhaitham makes it up in the form of books. As promised, he moves in his bookcases, which line up the walls of the small living room next to the couch that he often sits at after dinner for leisurely reading. 

As a reader of specifically non-fiction, you think Alhaitham must be well-read in all topics. You like to dabble in some topics from the sciences or humanities too, and it’s come in handy, helping along some of your supper conversations as they veer towards specific bits of knowledge that you’ve garnered throughout the years. While the last time you’ve really read an informative book was eons ago, Alhaitham is on a constant pursuit of knowledge, sifting through pages and pages of information and grasping at the ones that are pertinent– no matter how esoteric the knowledge may be. 

You remember peering into his bookshelves the other day when it was your turn to dust (worst chore by far). You were hoping to pick up a topic that you could perhaps talk with him about, but some of the books you’ve seen are truly beyond your knowledge AND interest.  

Especially with “Factory Mass Manufacturing and Warehouse Management,” you think absently, as you cut slices of apples onto a plate. Considering how Alhaitham is the secretary of a prominent business, you can somehow see the relevance. But even so, you can never imagine reading something like that just for fun.

You walk over with the plate of fruit, crunching on a slice before gently placing the plate on the arm of the couch next to Alhaitham. You peer over his shoulder to look at his reading material.  The font is small, paragraphs thick and heavily informative almost like a textbook, but Alhaitham is close to finishing. Incredulous, you catch a glimpse of the title, and it’s the same warehouse management book you’d seen a few days before.

“You’re already almost done reading that?” You ask, bewildered. You look at Alhaitham as he pauses midway from picking up a slice of the apples you have cut. 

“It’s not that long,” he replies, flipping to the last page. “Only about 400.” 

‘Only,’ he says. You only nod. “Is it interesting to you? How do you choose what book to read next?”

“I don’t have a system, if that’s what you’re asking,” Alhaitham says. “I just choose whatever seems to be a good read for the time being.”

“Do you read just non-fiction?”

“Not always. I find that fiction and imagination can often explore various topics that reality cannot.” Alhaitham bookmarks his place in the book before shutting it. You blink when he turns to place his full attention on you. “Do you read?”

Fanfiction comes to mind immediately, but you aren’t planning to admit that right off the bat. “Nothing recently,” you say. He gives you a glance before standing up, and you follow curiously behind him as he sifts through his selection of books.  “I also usually read fictional works over non-fiction, but…”

“Are you interested in the sciences?” Alhaitham asks, pulling out a book from his collection, “Or history?”

Alhaitham ends up giving you two of the thinner non-fiction books to start with, both about topics that you surprisingly do have an interest in. You don’t remember ever talking to him about the specifics, but you garner he must have gained some sort of knowledge about your preferences in the times you’ve talked. You don’t have it in you to turn down Alhaitham’s book recommendations even though you really doubt you can find it in yourself to finish a book let alone read non-fiction. 

For one, you feel like this is a heaven-sent opportunity to bond with the man. Anyone can look at him and see how important books are to him, and you want to show interest in his hobbies, no matter how different they are from yours. And if you do end up reading, you get some more knowledge you can talk to Alhaitham about and- you try not to be too giddy at this– you might use this chance of reading to sit next to Alhaitham when he reads. (You believe they call it parallel play.) And two: you might get to understand Alhaitham just a little bit more if you delve into the books he cherishes so much.

And for that, you are motivated to see these books through to the end. 

If you sneak a peek at Alhaitham over the pages of your book ever so often, you hope he does not mind. 

.

.

.

You and Alhaitham begin to develop a routine together with the awareness that he is no longer living alone. 

Alhaitham has had his share of roommates, has lived with his parents or grandmother for a period of time. But as an adult, he has the autonomy that regardless of where or who he lives with, he does everything on his own. It is different trying to live together with a spouse.

It means sharing the space in which the two of you inhabit. Alhaitham prefers to read on the couch before sleeping, and you always end up sitting on the other seat with the laptop, most likely browsing the internet. When glancing over, he can see you either shop online, scroll through social media, or play a game. It’s an open-world concept, you had explained to him when he asked once out of curiosity: Genshin Impact.  

You had looked at him then with a mix of embarrassment and anticipation, on the precipice of saying something more. You probably wanted to elaborate on what kind of game it was, but then you seem to hold yourself back, smiling at him before going back to your screen. Alhaitham has never been interested in video games, but he almost wishes you had continued to talk, if only to get to understand the hobbies you’ve touched upon during dinner.

Small talk is terrible, but with you, he can tolerate it to a certain extent. Even when asking about your day, the perspective that you bring to the table so differs from his own that he imagines if he went through the same day as you, the two of you would create very different experiences. 

Your hobbies, too, are very different from his own. His life has always revolved around books, while you have dipped your toes into whatever hobby suits your fancy at that time. Anime, gaming, baking, crocheting, embroidering, writing, photography: your interests are diverse and often fleeting, though some of those have stayed with you till now. Alhaitham is a learner- he has theories and knowledge filling his mind to the brim, and you are a doer, fueled by passion and creativity.

Alhaitham concludes by the end of the month that even with all your differences, there is at least one thing he knows the two of you have in common: curiosity. Perhaps that is why he finds it even pleasant to converse with you. He finds genuine interest in the topics you talk about, and you listen intently when he speaks upon his latest book. The reason why he knows you’re truly listening is because you said just as much.

“Why read books when I can just have you explain them to me,” you tell him jokingly as you wash the dishes that night. “You’re really good at teaching things, Alhaitham. Thanks for being so patient with me.” 

Alhaitham is not unfamiliar with compliments, but he doesn’t remember the last time someone has commended him on his abilities to instruct. And for his ‘patience’? He’s more likely to leave mid-conversation than wait for someone to try and find a grasp on their words. 

He can recall tutoring someone or other during his undergraduate years, but people are rarely as willing to learn or conscientious as you. Perhaps that is why he doesn’t mind taking his time explaining things to you. Some things are harder to grasp for you than others, but he commends you for the effort. And he knows you put the effort into understanding, if the look of disconcert with your furrowed brows and slow nods are of any indication. Your questions are pertinent; they show that you’re actually listening.

It’s much better than some other people he has tried to teach who have only wasted his time trying to ask for help with something that they have no intention to use. It must be why with you, he may seem more patient, while others have found him either curt or intimidating. (He could care less about what people think of him, and the less he interacts with them, the better.) 

Alhaitham gives a simple ‘thanks’ before your attention is back on the dishes. He goes to sit on the couch as per usual to read, but once in a while, he glances up from the pages to look at you, the far more interesting thing in the room.  

If you are by any way bothered by his looks, you don’t say.

.

Living together denotes exactly that– being under the same roof for an extended period of time. On days that both Alhaitham and you stay home all day, a rare occurrence, are days that he fully understands what it means to live in the same space as someone else. 

It’s hearing you let out a huff of laughter after you see something funny on your phone. Or listening to the muffled music that comes from your headphones when the two of you are on the couch together. And you are often on the couch together, many times not speaking but simply doing different activities in the same vicinity, which Alhaitham finds he appreciates very much. 

One of his distaste for married life was the idea that he would always have to be doing the same thing as his significant other. He understands the appeal of it, certainly; seeing you open one of the books he recommended to you as the two of you sit side-by-side has a small smile forming on his lips. But to be doing the exact same thing as his spouse all the time? He much prefers the way you and him complement each other, doing things while still being considerate of the other. 

“Do you mind if I cook fish tonight?” 

“I’m planning to vacuum in an hour; will that interrupt your work?”

“It’s a little cold tonight. Can I turn up the heater?”

And when Alhaitham works out in the living room, he notices you staring at him as you read. 

His headphones are in, but when he pauses his workout, he pauses his music as well. “Am I bothering you?” He asks. He doesn’t think he makes a lot of noise when he exercises, aside from the obligatory breathes he has to take. Perhaps the constant movement in the corner of your eyes is distracting. He finds you frozen in place, mouth gaping open and closed as you try to answer him. He doesn’t particularly think it’s a very difficult question to answer, but he knows you often try to find the best way to word things so he waits.  

Alhaitham does not expect the very simple and stammered “no” that comes from you and the way you scramble to bury your nose back into your book.

You’re embarrassed, he thinks. Why? He looks at you for a while longer, and you seem more determined to not meet his gaze, as though refusing to look at him- ah. 

Alhaitham recalls that the first question you asked him was whether he found you attractive. You never provided an answer to him whether or not you found him attractive, but perhaps you didn’t need to, especially not now.

It’s a… strange feeling, to be admired for his looks. He isn’t exactly unfamiliar with them, but he never cared for how people viewed him– good or bad. Having someone like you look at him, on the other hand… He finds he does not mind the way you are flustered at being caught staring, yet respectful enough to not to purposely bother him and accommodating enough to let him exercise despite how obviously distracting he is.

It’s a little… endearing. And very amusing. If only you’d look at him now, you would catch him smiling even as his workout puts him through the wringer. 

.

.

.

If you could go back in time to catch yourself before you started staring at Alhaitham– attractive, extremely fit Alhaitham who is working out in front of you– you would. You try not to make eye contact with him again after your weak response, and you feel his gaze on you for a moment longer before he goes back to his workout.

Pushups. With one arm. Sweat glistening on his forehead, breath heavy from effort- 

You take a quiet deep breath in and think of less… distracting thoughts and back to the explanation of the downfall of the Byzantine Empire that you’re reading right now. It is unironically a riveting book to sift through, but it’s just that you have something else more entertaining in front of you. Respectfully, you avert your gaze.

“I can cook dinner after I shower,” Alhaitham suddenly says, and you look to your left, craning your neck up to look at him as he wipes his neck with a towel. 

“Okay,” you say automatically, mind still reeling. A brief pause. “Have a nice shower.” 

Alhaitham looks at you again, and you are used to it by now to know that it is neither a good nor bad thing, until you see a quip of a smile on his face. “Thanks,” he basically drawls. “I will.” 

The moment Alhaitham is out of earshot, you slam your face into your book, the cool pages battling the heat on your cheeks.

.

.

.

Living together means Alhaitham can discern some of your habits. It’s the plate of fruits that you cut for him when it’s a quiet afternoon of reading. It’s the way you start or end your sentences, the way you refer to certain things to a point of his own recognition as though you are teaching him your own language. And although you did not do this in the earliest stages of his relationship with you, he suspects that you are beginning to at least become more comfortable living with him, because he begins to hear you sing.

Most of it is probably not meant for his ears. Alhaitham remembers coming back to the apartment with the sounds of your distant, muffled singing, which stops the moment he closes the door shut with a slam. (There is no other way to close this door securely, unfortunately.) He never brings attention to it, suspecting it would only embarrass you and discourage you from singing. 

Or would it do the opposite, he wonders, covering his yawn as he walks into the kitchen after his afternoon nap to see you starting to cook dinner. You’re humming along to the music on your headphones, oblivious to his approach, and Alhaitham takes to leaning against the refrigerator until you turn around and notice him. It’s the first time he’s ever seen you jump and yelp like that. 

“I’ve noticed you sing a lot,” Alhaitham says.

“Sorry, yeah,” you say sheepishly. “Is it distracting?” 

“Not really. There’s really no need to apologize. You’re actually on tune as far as I can tell.” He sees you press your lips together, trying to hide your pleased smile. “Are we eating pasta tonight?” He asks.

“Yeah, with tomato sauce,” you say, stirring the pot gently. “So you really don’t mind? Me…” You wave your hand in a vague gesture. “Singing and all.”

“I don’t mind,” he says. Alhaitham thinks he’s been quite straightforward with how he feels about things in general. You know by now that he does not give opinions in halves; what he thinks is as clear as day. You don’t look so convinced, but it is true: he doesn’t mind hearing you sing. He’s always been sensitive to noises, bothered by the interruptions to the serenity of silence, but your voice he finds he does not mind. Perhaps he is used to hearing you, having lived with you for some time now, but he finds it hard to separate you and your voice with the image of home. (He supposes he has two places he can call home now.)

That and he can always filter the noises you make if he really needs to. Being accustomed to living with you has its perks, after all, but he has yet to find a reason to do so. In some ways, silence is no longer a part of his daily routine anymore. Alhaitham finds he does not mind that either when it involves you.  

Alhaitham continues, “Though I do ask you don’t sing in the showers if it’s late; I do sleep quite early-”

“Yeah, no, no problem,” you stammer, staring at the pot as though it required more of your attention. (It does not as far as he knows.) “I- So you’ve heard me sing in there too?”

“Yes,” he says simply. When you stand there, stunned, he continues, “Again, I don’t mind it.”

“Noted.” You slowly grin, telling him teasingly, “Feel free to burst into song any time too, Alhaitham.” 

The comment surprises a huff of laughter out of him, and he walks to the living room knowing full well you’re still smiling ear to ear. “Unlikely, but thanks anyways.” He says, “I’ll be reading; let me know if you need help.”

Alhaitham hears you chirp out an affirmation before going back to cooking. The stove flickers out as you turn off the stove, turning around to separate the pasta from water. Alhaitham is a few pages into his new book when he begins to hear you hum again. He looks up from his book to watch you bob your head along with the song you’re singing, steam rising from the sink as the hot water is poured. 

He’s smiling as he goes back to read his book. 

.

.

.

Taglist:

@crowbird @thetwinkims @jaguarthecat @loki-zos-galvus @fantasy-enthusiast @tanspostsblog @dxstopiaa @theprinceofkhaos @homeinhobii @nagisuterus

[transgenderteensurvivalguide]

I turn 18 next year and I’m not sure where I can get testosterone, I’ve looked at planned parenthood’s website but the only one in my state doesn’t offer hrt services 😭 do you have any advice on how to access hrt?

Lee says:

Happy (Very very) early birthday! If you're still a year away from being 18 you have plenty of time to figure this out.

You should start by talking to your primary care physician and ask if they are knowledgeable about gender-affirming care and are willing to prescribe you HRT themselves. If they are not experienced with HRT for gender-affirming reasons, ask them to look into it and refer you to a healthcare provider who is.

While you're waiting for your appointment (often it can be at least a month away even if you schedule the first available date) use that time wisely and go out into the world (And internet) and talk to people! There must be at least ONE other trans person in your state who is on hormones, right? You just have to find ONE other trans person in your state who is on hormones (and trust me-- there's more than just one trans person on hormones in your state! But all you need is one person), then find out where they're getting their prescription from!

Online platforms can be a great resource for shared experiences and advice so I'd just start by googling "transgender [insert hormone name] in [insert state]" until you find the right key terms. You might also be able to find something on Reddit or through Facebook groups.

Additionally, going to trans support groups and meeting people there and asking your trans friends to ask their friends, etc can all be a good way to find a provider through word-of-mouth.

Another thing you can try is contacting LGBTQ+ centers or organizations in your state and seeing if they have any recommendations. Even if Planned Parenthood's local branch doesn't offer HRT services, they may have a lists of trans-friendly healthcare providers or clinics that do, so it could still be worth reaching out to them.

If you're planning on attending college or university, check if the campus health center provides HRT or can refer you to local resources that do. Some college health centers offer comprehensive services for transgender students, but unfortunately most do not.

Many healthcare providers now offer telehealth services for transgender patients looking to start or continue HRT. These services can be particularly helpful if you live in an area with limited access to transgender healthcare. Providers like Folx Health, Plume, and QueerDoc offer gender-affirming care to patients in many states, all through telehealth platforms.

There's more info on starting hormones in this post, and you should take a look at that too.

Finally, I'm guessing that you don't have much experience with adulting which is fine because everyone starts somewhere! I was in the same position as you once. I also started to look into starting T when I was 17 and got everything ready (appointments scheduled for after my birthday, letter of support since it wasn't fully informed consent, lab work done the month before I was 18, etc), but didn't actually start hormones until I was 18.

Everyone has a different path through life, but this may be your first time scheduling doctor's appointments for yourself, signing up for a patient portal, getting your own health insurance (unless your parents support you being on HRT and wouldn't boot your off of their coverage), paying for appointment and prescription and lab work copays, etc.

Since you have a year until you're actually 18, it would be a good idea to start getting prepped for your first dive into the healthcare system as a legal-adult-even-if-it-doesn't-always-feel-that-way and google the basics of having and using health insurance. There's a lot of words you're going to need to learn one day (what's a deductible vs an out of pocket maximum vs an allowed amount etc) and this is as good of a time as any to start learning some of those basics (The advanced level is learning how to appeal denied claims, etc).

You got this anon! You're clearly on the right track by starting to investigate the process of starting HRT in advance, and remember that starting HRT as an adult also comes with adult responsibilities like figuring out how to pay for it! When you're thinking through the logistics of finding an in-network prescriber, don't forget to budget for those things too.

Followers, any tips for anon?

[whitexwolfxx310]

Taking Control Over The Big Bad (White) Wolf

Pairing: Bucky x female reader

Summary: Learning the news that you no longer have to stay at The Compound, Bucky makes a scary but enticing offer.

Warnings: 18+ for this post, dominance kink, life decisions, argument with parents, Y/N, sexual content, cursing, cockwarming, fluff, angst.

Word Count: 3688

Gif: Credit goes to magnusedom

Notes: Yes, a part of this was requested!

Tag List: @peaches1958 @aquabrie @elsie-bells @pono-pura-vida @redbloodedgurl @almosttoopizza

Previous Part

Masterlist

You have been living out all of your daydreams with Bucky recently. Ever since spending that one night together, he has become more visibly relaxed. It doesn’t look like he’s .5 seconds away from giving himself a brain aneurysm. Well, most of the time at least. While you each have your own apartment, neither of you have slept alone in weeks. That also means Bucky no longer sleeps on the cold floor. He struggles sometimes, becoming antsy as he tries to get comfortable. It’s as if the more relaxed he strives to be, the more restless he becomes.

There have been many fulfilled late nights and some of the best ways to start the day; with each other. Reaching that new level of comfort with one another really took your relationship to the next level. It’s at the point where you’re still learning about one another but passed the awkward stage where it’s uncomfortable to show who you really are. Speaking of learning more about each other, it’s not just the history or experiences you both have had. (Although, the focus tends to be on yourself or Bucky’s young adult life before getting drafted into the Army.) It’s the exploring. Being completely exposed, vulnerable, and getting to know every inch of each others body’s. What he likes and dislikes, what drives him to the edge and vice versa for yourself.

Bucky is always eager to please and even more so to learn. Sex and intimacy have come a looong way over the decades. Positions, toys, enhancements (not that either of you need them, but they’re still fun), and not just restricting yourselves to the bed. Good thing that The Compound is sound proof. Everyone around seems to have an idea of what’s going on behind closed doors, but they don’t need to hear it. So far, Bucky has shown the most interest in exploring different surfaces (the shower and couch seem to be his favorite) and also asserting some kind of a dominant role.

It makes sense because of how compliant he had to be for so many years. Feeling constantly controlled, it would be only human to be intrigued by the other side of things. He’s still always sweet, sometimes almost too gentle. We’ll work on that.

There are two ways of looking at this; One: Bucky is still experimenting. He’s trying to find balance between his pleasure and yours. Two: He’s afraid of going too far and hurting you. While you can appreciate his care and concern for your well being, there’s this dark entity inside begging for a cool metal hand necklace.

*Ding* Your attention gets drawn to the New Email notification on your phone. Sitting down at the island in his kitchen, wearing one of Bucky’s t-shirts and a pair of lace cheeky panties, you bring one knee up to hug it as you unlock your phone. Bucky’s on the other side of the island, cleaning. Always fucking cleaning. You open the email.

“Dear Y/N,

The Compound has been deemed safe once again. We are no longer concerned about a possible breach. You are able to return to your normal work schedule and are free to go home at your leisure. If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to call my extension (3000).

Thank you,

Pepper Potts”

Leave? You have been so caught up in the whirlwind that is Bucky Barnes that it was completely forgotten that The Compound wasn’t your home. It feels as though this perfect timespan has completely crumbled unexpectedly underneath your feet.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky asks, staring intently at you from the stove worried.

“I- I was told I could go home.” You say, sorrowfully.

“Hold on. What?” He responds, needing to hear you say it again as if he doesn’t believe you.

“They cleared the possible breach… I don’t have to stay here anymore.”

Bucky doesn’t say a word but it is very obvious that the wheels are turning in his head, trying to think of a way around this.

“We knew this day was coming though, right?” You say, trying to lighten the mood. But its clear that this news has disheartened you both.

Within the blink of an eye he had taken a few long strides, standing now to your side. His metal arm reaches across your lap to grip the chair, quickly turning the chair so that you’re face to face.

“Don’t go…” He begs softly unable to look you in the eyes.

“I…w-what do you mean, Bucky?” You’re genuinely confused as to what he’s trying to imply.

“Stay.” It comes out as a heavy breath. “Here… with me.” He’s finally able to look you in the eyes, and he seems… distressed? Scared? Worried that if you leave his sight that you’ll somehow never come back?

“Are you asking me to move in with you?” Sitting there stunned, holding your breath, you wait for his answer. Either way you’re terrified. Because either one, he literally just asked you to move in. Or two, you completely misinterpreted what he was saying and you’re about to feel like the worlds biggest idiot.

“I know it’s crazy…” Bucky starts, trying hard to think before he speaks in fear of coming off as too much and scaring you away. “And at the risk of sounding utterly selfish in saying this, I don’t feel as though my every move is being microscopically analyzed when you’re with me. I’ve gained trust back with you. I-I’m infatuated with you. Y/N.” His jaw is clenched, the vein in his temple looks as though it’s about to combust from his admission.

Infatuated? What do I even say to that? Your mind starts racing. Flashes of your possible life with Bucky start taking over your mind. Living together and waking up to those perfect pancakes he makes every morning. How instantly protective he is of you whenever you’re in public. The most passionate and intense sex that some people only dream about having. Slow dancing to the record player in the living room every night. Him wearing an all black suit, feeling comfortable with no gloves waiting for you at the end of the isle. What kind of dad would he be? Does he even want those things?

All of his focus is on waiting for your answer. His breathing drawn out as he tries to control it to not seem as nervous as he feels. A part of you wants to only dip your toe in the water, to take things slow because this can be a tough life when you’re so attached from the feelings involved. The other part of you wants to just dive right in. You want to live together? Yes. You want to get married and start a family? Yes. You’re talking about a future that surrounds each other? Yes, yes, and yes. The thought is terrifying but exhilarating at the same time. But the difficult journey could lead to an amazing destination. There’s no way to find out unless you try.

“That’s a really big decision, Bucky…” You start, and his head instantly falls forward in disappointment. “But…” His head picks back up, your gaze meeting each others. “Let’s try.”

His eyes widen in excitement. “Really?!” I’ve never seen him this animated about anything before.

“Really.” Your eyebrows raise as your lips curve upwards into a beaming smile at not just the possibility, but the reality of this happening.

“Ugh, Y/N. Just when I thought I couldn’t get any happier. You always surprise me!” Bucky quickly snatches you from the high counter chair at the island. The giggles effortlessly flow out as he picks you up and spins you around once. Placing your feet firmly back on the ground, he cups the left side of your face with right hand.

“You do realize this means that your place probably won’t be spotless anymore, right?”

“Our place” He corrects, mirroring the giant cheesy smile. “Worth it.” He says, placing a gentle kiss against your lips. "Get ready, let's go and get your stuff."

Sitting in the passenger seat, you look over at Bucky. It's one of those moments where you feel like the luckiest woman in the world. This is a moment you'll remember for a lifetime. He has dark sunglasses on, concentrating on the mostly empty road. With being tall, he props his left knee underneath the steering wheel, using it to maintain the car straight. His right hand reached over, resting on your knee and giving it a gentle squeeze as his thumb rubs smoothly over it. The golden hue from the fall foliage makes his outline glow, as if he were an angel.

How is this even real life?

Coming back into the current moment, you recognize the song on the radio. Bucky actually let you control the music for once. Which is probably something he is going to regret.

"I love this song!" You exclaim, turning the volume up. But of course not too high for the old man.

"She's the one, she'll always be there She took my hand and I made it, I swear Because I fell in love with the girl at the rock show She said, "What?", and I told her that I didn't know She's so cool, gonna sneak in through her window Everything's better when she's around I can't wait 'til her parents go out of town I fell in love with the girl at the rock show!"

You stop, realizing that Bucky is looking over at you and not the road anymore. "You doing that staring thing again." You laugh. "What?!" You ask, suddenly feeling self conscious from singing.

He smiles, shaking his head. "I just enjoy being around you." It's the simplicity of being yourself that he admires most. Every move isn't articulated or pre-planned. There is no immediate danger. Life can be uncomplicated when you're free to be yourself.

The thought of just being with each other makes you feel warm inside. Who would of figured that you two would be the ones leaning on each other?

The rest of the car ride was pretty quiet. No particular reason, just relishing in the cool autumn weather for the duration of the drive.

Soon enough you're on the dirt road leading up to your parents house. Getting closer, you notice that both cars are parked in front, meaning both of them were home. Bucky parks and looks over at you, seeing what your reaction is going to be. You squeeze his hand that is still on your knee and smile. "Just give me a moment to grab some things, okay?" You say, still holding his hand for reassurance.

"Okay." He reluctantly let's go of your knee as you get out of the car.

Walking up to the front door, you know the conversation that is about to be had. Your jaw clenches in anxiety as you enter the house.

"Oh hey, sweetie!" Mom says, pausing from dusting the pictures on the mantel. "We were wondering when you would be coming home!"

"About that..." You start, taking a deep breath as your hands ball up into fists from being nervous. "I've decided to stay at The Compound. I just came here for my things." It gets blurted out.

"Oh?" Mom replies, waiting to see if there is more of an explanation than you've provided.

"Why is that?" Dad asks from the hallway, leaning on the frame. His sudden appearance makes you jump, not knowing he was right there. The ball of nerves inside of you doesn't necessarily help the situation either.

"We all knew my staying here was temporary..." You say truthfully, but it still comes out like an excuse.

"So...it's in relation to your job then?" His eyebrows raise. You were taught better than to lie, especially to him. And even if you tried, he would know.

"Kind of." Your response is dancing around the whole truth. "I don't have a lot of time." You say as you briskly walk into your room. It won't be hard to pack since you have been living out of suitcases since you came home from college. Not taking the time to fold your clothes, you shove them all into the collection of duffle bags and luggage.

"I'm confused..." Mom says as she walks into the room.

"There isn't anything to be confused about." Not being able to look at her, you continue to pack your bags rapidly.

"You don't see what's happening here?" Dad directs the question towards mom and then quickly answers for her. "This is about James."

"James?" Still confused, she looks between you and your father.

An exacerbated sigh comes from your mouth as you angerly slam a shirt down into your bag, now glaring at your father.

"So what if it is?" You challenge.

"You know how I feel about him..." Dad keeps a level, monotoned voice as if you were negotiating over a hostage situation. He takes a step forward but you hold your ground.

"And you know how I feel about him, Dad! This is the first time I have felt happy in the year and a half since Luke died!"

Mom stands in the room, looking between the two of you anxiously. Dad sighs, evidently starting to get more annoyed at the thought of you and Bucky together. "Why can't I have this, Dad?" You ask, feeling defeated. "We took a loss as a family, together. We got through it, together. But this is something that I want and I feel as though Luke would be happy for me!"

There's suddenly a knock at the door. Closing your eyes in frustration, you already know who it is. Your head rolls forward and you slip passed your parents and open the door to no other than Bucky. He only takes one step into the doorway, just enough for the screen door to close behind him. He clears his throat, his lips pressed into a thin line.

"Sir." He acknowledges your father only to be met with an intense stare. Well if they're going to have a staring contest, sorry dad but you're going to lose.

“James.” He sternly acknowledges.

Bucky turns to you, leaning in close as his hand gently holds your elbow. “Are you okay?” He asks, concerned. You nod your head looking over at your dad knowing that it’s just an amount of time before one or both of them explode.

“This is a family matter, Barnes.” Heeeere we go.

The scary thing about Bucky is that when he’s mad, he gets quiet. There’s no temper tantrums, no yelling, and no low blows. Thanks to Hydra, he’s an expert at not reacting when under immense pressure. While the circumstances are different, he’s on the defense. Your defense.

“I understand. I just wanted to make sure Y/N’s okay.” Bucky says in the same monotoned voice that your father just used on you a few moments before. “I’m not trying to interject here-“

“So then why are you?” Dad spits, growing angrier by the moment. Bucky standing here might just put him over the edge.

You quickly step between both of them bringing their focus to you. “Enough.” You say blatantly. “Dad… mom.” You take in a deep breath. “This is what I want. He is what I want. If you reject him than you’re rejecting me.”

The two stubborn men in the room are watching each other intently while trying to lay down the unspoken claim of who you actually belong to.

“I’m grabbing my things and we’re leaving. I understand that this might be a lot to take in at once, so I’ll give you time to process. You know how to get in contact with me. I love you guys.”

Reaching down to the floor, you pick up two of your bags. Bucky reaches down as well, slipping his gloved metal arm through all of the handles and picking up the rest of the stuff. He looks like me when I’ve gone grocery shopping and only want to make one trip from the car. And effortlessly of course. He holds the door open for you to walk outside, and follows right behind.

In silence you both pack the car and leave. There is an unspoken tension between the two of you. How did this day go from being so happy, so excited to head into a new journey together, to this?

"Parents usually love me." Bucky says, breaking the silence by trying to be funny.

"I'm sorry." You respond. Bucky shakes his head. "Really, I'm used to these kinds of reactions from people. I think that you're the only one who hasn't run off the moment we met." He admits.

"Still. I can't apologize for him but I can be sorry that you were treated that way."

"Seriously, it's more natural for people to react that way. You're the only one who hasn't, Y/N. That's what makes you so precious to me."

The ball of anxiety in your stomach starts turning into warm butterflies all over again. I don't understand how so many see Bucky as this deadly, soulless person. He has such a big and kind heart. And while yes, he's past is hard to get over, working hard on himself and making amends with everyone he can, speaks volumes about his true self.

"It finally looks as though someone lives in here!" You say, hands on your hips looking around the newly decorated living room.

"Yeeeah." Bucky says as he scratches the back of his head.

"Oh come on. Having me around all the time won't be so bad."

He laughs while taking a few steps closer, wrapping his arms around you. "That sounds terrible, honestly." He jokes, pulling you in closer. You'll never get over just how warm his body feels when pressed to yours, which makes no physical contact feel just that much cooler.

Jumping up, you wrap your legs around his waist, being overcome with the need to be as close to him as you possibly can. Bucky of course supports your weight effortlessly, each palm grabbing a fistful of your ass. Your arms wrap around his neck as you lean in to kiss him. He moves his right middle finger to gently stroke once over your center. Pulling away from the kiss you let out a giggle, "Oh hey."

"Hey." He smirks, resuming the kiss and brings you to the couch. Sitting down with your arms still around each other, you're now straddling him. Your hips instinctively and tentatively start moving forward and back on his lap. A shallow breath escapes Bucky's mouth with a muffled moan underneath. You smile into the kiss and then pull back. He leans back in to continue the kiss but you withdraw further. Confused, he's looking up at you, his eyes pleading.

Shaking your head and grinning, you take your arms away from his neck, your hands wriggling down between your legs and reach of the hem of his jeans. A sharp breath pulls in from his lips as he keeps eye contact with you. Undoing the button and pulling down the zipper painfully slow, you decide to take on the assertive role here. Your power over one of the most feared men in the world, begging at just the very touch of your hands. Just the thought alone is enough to get you off. But neither of us are getting that right now.

Releasing his erection from his boxer briefs, his hips naturally advance towards your hands. And you let your hands drop away from him.

"What-" Bucky starts, but you place an index finger of his lips. "Shh." You coo quietly. "I'm going to do whatever I want." His eyebrows raise in response but he doesn't protest. After giving him a moment to realize that he is now under your control, you spit into your left hand before moving it back down to the small gap between both of your legs. You grip his shaft firmly, but not aggressively. Your hand starts in a leisurely up and down motion.

You take his bare metal hand and place it between your thighs. "Rip them." You say sternly while grasping onto him slightly harder. Following your orders, his fingers move upward to the waistband of your leggings and pulls swiftly downward. The tearing of the fabric makes your entire body tingle. Bucky discards the remnants of your pants onto the floor, leaving your lower half covered only by a thin, lacy piece of fabric.

Raising yourself up while still straddled in his lap, you gently use your hand to maneuver his tip to your only slightly covered opening. He takes a deep breath as his head rolls back to meet with the top of the couch. His hands twitch slightly on your thighs, trying to control the desire to flip around and bend you over the couch.

Now using your left hand, you pull the material to the side and gently glide him in. His hips try to buck up into you, but still having a firm grasp, you hold him in place.

"No." You say strictly, and he reluctantly relaxes. Continuing to slide him in inch by inch he looks up into your eyes. A small moan escapes his mouth once he is fully inside of you.

You pull him in close to your chest, tenderly running your hands through his hair. Aside from your core having the natural tendency to constrict around him, you don't allow your hips to move. Bucky's breathing intensifies just from the sensation of being inside of you along with your nails in his hair. "Not a word." You whisper, still keeping your body rigid, painfully refusing both of you the release that you so desperately want. But the continuation of your hands rubbing through his hair, down his back, and sensually up and down his arms lulls him to sleep right then and there after a while. You grin to yourself, barely being able to contain the excitement you feel for the repercussions you're going to face for this.

Next part

[eretzyisrael]

by Andrew Pessin

Four days in, after explicit images of the slaughter had been blasting around the internet nonstop for days, my college administration, and my faculty colleagues, had remained silent. In contrast, when a single Black man died by a police officer far away a few years ago the place had exploded for days. When an administrator more recently scheduled an event at a venue that 40 years earlier had racist admissions policies there were weeks of outrage, the canceling of classes and then of the administrator. The misuse of pronouns here can get you disciplined on a bias charge, in this age of microaggressions and in the name of promoting inclusion.

But when (now) 1400+ Jews are slaughtered in cold blood, live on camera, there is—silence.

And not just slaughtered: bloodthirsty murderers going house to house, murdering entire families, children, grandparents, medics and first responders, raping women and little girls, abusing corpses, burning down houses with their families inside like in medieval times, paragliding into a music festival with automatic weapons gunning down 260 young adults (same age as our students), not to mention taking 200+ hostages (women, children, elderly) whom they have threatened to execute publicly (assuming they are still alive) —no different from the Nazi Einsatzgruppen, except that the Nazis didn’t have the ability to also livestream their atrocities—

There was silence.

Actually worse: business as usual. Chatter about upcoming events, department business, the usual weekly newsletters, announcements re upcoming meetings. Nothing to talk about, folks, it’s just Jews being slaughtered on the largest scale since the Holocaust.

“We must take care of our students”—a wonderful rallying cry that fills up our airwaves whenever any identity group is perceived to have received a harm, however abstract that harm is, however removed that harm might be from them directly and personally.

Except for Jews—whose family members, friends, and acquaintances were literally just gunned down, raped, burned alive, decapitated, all livestreamed. (They used one grandmother’s phone to film their execution of her, then posted the video to her own Facebook account so everyone she knew could witness it—which is how her family learned of her fate.)

[topaz-witch-tea]

Yanqing’s Happy Family AU: Baiheng’s Parenting

I can finally drop all the stuff I've been working on now that I don't have to work overtime!!! It was torture watching all my stuff be in-progress and not being able to work on them.

1. Spoils him the most out of the five. She has spent an outrageous amount on her nephew. Yanqing, as a kid, while easy was also quite picky about certain things, and one of them was clothes. He hated onesies and would cry and fight when people would put him in one, preferring a cross-collar top and trousers. The issue was that there were not a lot of options when it came to that. Baiheng proceeded to spend hundred of thousands of strales on custom clothing for baby Yanqing, who like all babies, would spit and vomit on them. When asked about it, she stated "You cannot honestly expect me to sit there and watch you put Yanqing in plain, unstylish clothes." This would continue as she would order for him more and more custom clothes. Yanqing currently had 5 winter cloaks in a variety of colors, fur trims, and clasps from his auntie.

2. She taught Yanqing how to drive a Starskiff. In fact, I am convinced she taught everyone in the HCQ how to drive. She was a renowned pilot back in the day and definitely knows her way around one. But it should be prefaced, that she taught Yanqing way before the legal age to drive a starskiff. Her mentality was that if Yanqing was old enough to join the battlefield, he should learn to drive since it might one day save his life. She is a very chill teacher and had gone out to buy an old starskiff to teach him in. However, she did it in secret since the three dads were already very against Yanqing going out to fight even though he had earned his position as lieutenant and any possible incident/issue could cause them to revoke Yanqing's mission. Yanqing, being the responsible kid he is, never drove in public and his dads did not know for a long time. They only found out when he was 15 and his squadron was ambushed by the enemy. After getting his men out first, Yanqing commandeered an abandoned starskiff to escape as well. Despite the fact it was hidden from them, the three could not be mad in the slightest since it saved their son's life.

3. Baiheng has fought many families at PTA meetings. She has the most available schedule and participates in a lot of daily school events for Yanqing. Yanqing goes to a fancy private school where a lot of children of the nobility go, and Baiheng never forgot the comments that floated around when Yanqing was first taken in (comments are in the fic Family Dinner). Some nobles still keep the belief that Yanqing is a nuisance that lived too long and the attitude trickles down to their easily-influenced children. Baiheng does not stand for this at all, she attends every meeting with the intention of throwing down. While she doesn't fault the children, she does not hold the same patience for the adults. She actually punched a mother in the face during a PTA meeting for bad-mouthing her nephew and dared the woman and her family to retaliate. "Go on then, you can fight back if you want. Or you can even go and report what happened to the Cloud Knights, where you can repeat what you said about Yanqing to the General instead."

4. When Yanqing was just a little baby and was left in her care, she would constantly send photos every hour in the group chat so no one would miss anything. There were a lot of photos of him sleeping or smiling at the camera. There was one photo of Yanqing in a sea-green cloak where the hoodie had little horns resembling Dan Feng's. The photo was his screen saver for a year.

I hope you like them! Feel free to let me know if you want a part 2 to any of my headcanons or want a drabble written about them.

[woso-dreamzzz]

how you do the lyric things for princesse, what about you’re on your own kid for bambi 😭

Another nerdy analysis!

TW for Bambi's eating disorder

Summer went away Still, the yearning stays I play it cool with the best of them Bambi's childhood leaving her after Jaume is born and how she just kind of accepts it while still yearning for attention she doesn't get

I wait patiently He's gonna notice me It's okay, we're the best of friends Anyway Bambi waiting on the attention from Alexia or at least any idea that Alexia still cares about her

I hear it in your voice You're smoking with your boys Alexia constantly being out with the team or with Olga and Jaume while Bambi is pushed to the side

I touch my phone as if it's your face I didn't choose this town I dream of getting out Bambi wishing she could stay with Alba and Jenni rather than going back to Alexia

There's just one who could make me stay All my days But Alexia's attention and love being offered makes it so easy for Bambi to go back to her

From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes I waited ages to see you there Bambi's waited so long for the attention that she doesn't even care if it comes late just so long as she has it

I search the party of better bodies Just to learn that you never cared Bambi believing that Alexia never actually cared about her, that she was just the 'test run' so Alexia could be the perfect mother to Jaume

You're on your own, kid You always have been Bambi has always been isolated in her family, at least in her own opinion. She doesn't quite fit

I see the great escape So long, Daisy May I picked the petals, he loves me not Jenni taking Bambi to Mexico and Bambi coming to the conclusion that it's because Alexia doesn't love her

Something different bloomed Writing in my room I play my songs in the parking lot I'll run away Bambi further isolating herself further by choosing dance over football and the way it just pushes Alexia further away from her

From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes I called a taxi to take me there Bambi might as well be taking herself to dance because Alexia would never stick around and she never fully knew Bambi's schedule

I search the party of better bodies Just to learn that my dreams aren't rare Bambi can never live up to Alexia's dreams of having a footballer daughter and they both have to come to terms with that

You're on your own, kid You always have been Bambi's always been fairly by herself. She's not the best socially so she doesn't really have friends when she's younger

From sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes I gave my blood, sweat, and tears for this Bambi worked super hard to do ballet. She's truly sweat, cried and bled for her dance

I hosted parties and starved my body Like I'd be saved by a perfect kiss Bambi suffers with an eating disorder in both versions. She's truly starved her body before and she desperately craves someone taking care of her when she's an adult because for years she felt like she didn't deserve it

The jokes weren't funny, I took the money My friends from home don't know what to say All of the Barcelona girls not knowing how to react during Bambi's hoe era and when she brings much older women home

I looked around in a blood-soaked gown And I saw something they can't take away Bambi bleeding in her pointe shoes from practising too hard and just holding onto her dancing because it's the one thing that's been with her since she was very young

'Cause there were pages turned with the bridges burned Everything you lose is a step you take Alexia burning bridges by giving Bambi up in Jenni's Version and her actions towards Bambi burning bridges between her and Alba

So make the friendship bracelets Take the moment and taste it You've got no reason to be afraid Bambi growing up and dancing professionally. Coming out of her hoe era and meeting her girlfriend (depending on the version) and everything suddenly just making sense for her

You're on your own, kid Yeah, you can face this You're on your own, kid You always have been Alexia choosing to either keep or let Jenni keep Bambi but either way Bambi actually gets attention and begins to thrive. But the trauma stays with her forever