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#but that's not me. once i tune back into myself I get overwhelmed and mean

zorosleftshoe · 10 months

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Cherry Blossoms - (c.b)

Pairing: Colby Brock x gn!reader

Warnings: mentions of death, blood, hospitals

“I’ve always wanted to see the cherry blossom trees.” The confession rolled off my tongue like honey as I struggled to keep my breathing under control. “They,” a hard wheeze escapes my chapped lips and I feel two hands clasp onto my trembling frame with such purpose. “They’ve always been my favorite.” My lungs scream at me to stop speaking; to savor my breath as I struggle to keep my eyes open.

“Sh, you’re okay.” His voice sounds like a distant memory as he comforts me on death’s doorstep. It wasn’t meant to be like this.

“Promise?” I gasp out still attempting to steady my breathing. His free hand that isn’t clasped tightly around my own presses against my stomach and I know there should be pain at the contact but my body has since gone numb and all I can feel is coldness creeping in.

“Pinky.” He sputters out. Even through glossy eyes I can see the tears that stain his cheeks and I reach a shaky hand up to swipe them away. I force a smile onto my face as my thumb caresses the apple of cheekbone.

“No one as pretty as you should cry.” He laughs at this. A laugh that has an underlying sadness like he’s quietly saying goodbye. “I never got to tell you.” His head tilts up at my words and I’m met with icy blue eyes that could rival any ocean. “I’m in love with you.” The words sit heavily in the air between us and I can’t tell if he’s digesting the gravity of them or the situation that lies out before him. “I’m in love with you, Colby.” A dam breaks then. Sobs wrack his larger frame as he holds himself up to keep from collapsing on top of me.

“You,” he pauses. His eyes, now red rimmed and glossy, locking onto my own. “You love me?”

“Then, now, and forever.” The man in front of me crumbles like paper at the simple words but all I can focus on is the overwhelming smell of copper. His sniffles keep me distracted from the realization of what that means.

“Then stay with me.” He all but demands. “Stay here. Love me. Allow me to love you.” Now he’s using both hands to put pressure on what I can only assume is the wound that’s giving off the horrid smell.

“Promise to take me to see the cherry blossom trees.” My words are soft as I force them from my tongue. “Promise to be there with me as they dance in the wind.” Colby nods. He nods because I know if he speaks his voice will waver and he can no longer be strong for me.

The wind blows around us and the trees away to their own tune as sirens fill the once peaceful silence. The last thing I see if Colby’s fear filled eyes as I succumb to the darkness.

~~~

An incessant beeping fills my ears when I come to. Begrudgingly, my eyes flutter open and I hiss at the brightness of the room. My nose scrunches up at the smell of antiseptics and I force myself to breathe through my parted lips.

“You’re awake.” The words are hushed, timid. My eyes dart towards each corner of the room in attempt to find the culprit when they land on the exhausted brunette. His lips are chapped from the constant gnawing on them and his half lidded eyes are a good indicator he hasn’t had much sleep since arriving. “Let me get the nurse.” Before he can move too far my fingers wrap around his wrist and he slowly sits back down in the plastic chair.

“You look like shit.” My voice is hoarse from the lack of use and Colby chuckles in response.

“Polite as ever, darling.” His eyes wander towards the door and I lightly tug on his wrist to regain his attention. “I really should get the nurse.”

“I love you.” Colby fumbles with the drawstring of his XPLR hoodie but I notice how his face flushes in embarrassment. “I know it took me nearly dying to say this to you but I can’t just keep it tucked away in my back pocket anymore.” I use my free hand to trace the sharpness of his jaw and he nuzzles closer into my palm. “I dream of you. My heart calls to you, Colbs.”

“I have never felt for another person the way I feel for you. It scares me to my core what I would give to just have you rest your gaze on me.” Colby takes both of my hands in his and rests his forehead against my own as we lean into each other’s space.

In that moment, as we held one another in a warm embrace, I felt our hearts become one.

#sam and colby #colby brock imagine #colby brock x reader #colby brock x y/n #colby brock x you #colby brock #colby brock angst

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madtotry · 7 months

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thinking of you, with my head underwater one. — two. — three. — coming soon.

hiccup haddock x reader

a/n. featuring toothless. gn reader. reader's dragon is one i created/came up with myself, youre welcome to ask about it! i plan for this to be a series - and to reveal more soon (if you have any questions/confusions about the plot youre welcome to pop into my inbox with those too) let me know if you want to be added to a taglist for my writing/this series

it hadn't been easy to get you to simply let hiccup look at your dragon — elsa — from afar without panicking, let alone convince you to go on a short flight with him.

so now, as you glide just above the surface of the sea, your gaze remains ahead; keeping an eye on elsa beneath you, and hiccup to your side, in your peripheral vision.

he hasn't said too much, and he probably means it as some sort of polite courtesy in an attempt to not overwhelm you, but it only serves to heighten your nerves at the possibility of him just waiting for the right time to attack you and steal elsa.

"what's her firepower?" he finally asks, at a volume that you think might have been in an attempt not to scare you, but is almost so quiet it gets whipped away even in the calm breeze.

you query a, "what?" in confusion, but he reads it as you not hearing him properly.

"firepower," he repeats kindly, and leans down to mutter something to his dragon, "like this."

a moment later, toothless opens his mouth — causing elsa to twitch just an inch away anxiously — and shoots a blast out of his mouth that flies ahead and disperses in a purple burst a few seconds after.

you tense once you understand, having never seen elsa do anything like that, let alone even just the normal fire you've caught other dragons spurting.

hiccup however, notices your sudden — extra — uneasiness, and doesn't pick up on the real reason.

"you don't have to tell me," he tries to catch your eye with a comforting smile, "i'm just asking because i've never seen a dragon like yours before."

you try to cooperate, "neither have i."

hiccup's head already spins with new questions, but goes easy on you with a simple, "could you tell me about her?" that he hopes is open-ended enough that you don't feel pressured.

elsa lets out a low, quiet, murmur that only you catch that tells you she's just as uncertain as yourself.

you don't know how he keeps being so patient and perceptive, but hiccup notices both you and your dragons' hesitance yet again, and speaks.

with a smile, he says, "this is how he got his name," nodding to toothless, who turns to look in your direction with a grin, mouth wide as he retracts his teeth and extends them back out a moment later proudly.

you can't help but feel the slightest upturn of your lips at toothless's pure joy, and a small hum from elsa and a ruffle of her wings tells you she feels the same; though appears to be better at hiding it than yourself.

"cool, right?" hiccup smiles back at you.

"i can show you more, this guy's full of secrets," he scratches a little crook in toothless's neck, who purrs happily at the affection, "aren't you!"

it slips out in a moment of comfort that you don't entirely hate, when you finally say, "she floats."

it takes a second for you to realise what you've said, and another to notice how nonsensical it sounds. but hiccup's reaction doesn't reflect this, if anything the sparkle in his eyes is just that little bit brighter - like he knows he's making progress. and his smile has not once faltered, but it has grown just a bit softer, perhaps more genuine?

he leaves room for you to elaborate, so when you don't — whether that be from the high-tide of anxiety splashing at your chest, or inexplicable embarrassment — he says:

"could you show us?"

elsa's sudden jolt away is unmistakable, and it doesn't take even a breath for you to tune into her uneasiness, and to tense yourself.

your head shakes without you realising, and all you can muster is a quick mumbled, "sorry," before elsa flies the two of you away; hopefully to somewhere you two are familiar with, somewhere safe.

you don't catch the way both his and toothless's expressions fall as you exit, nor the way he still politely stays where he was an makes no effort to chase after you - lest he scare you or elsa any further. he simply watches with a hint of sadness, and hopes you will be around the next time he flies through here.

#taking flight (my writing)#hiccup haddock x reader #hiccup x reader #httyd x reader #how to train your dragon x reader #httyd imagine

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cozy-cinnamon-roll · 3 months

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Lee!Alastor Headcanons Let's Gooooo

so sorry for the word wall... but I cannot be concise about the scary demon man 😅

Words cannot describe how much I love the idea of Alastor's accent slipping when he's tickled. It's hard for me to picture it in my mind because it never really slips on-screen (although his "WELL! Looks like I need a visit t' the TAY-ler!" line gets pretty close lol) but GAH the man was born and raised in Louisiana, he's gotta have at least a little southern drawl buried under that Transatlantic thing he's got going on.

{ helps that I grew up in the south, and I know how common it is for folks with very faint/non-existant accents to suddenly go FULL TWANG if something gets them riled up (or, ya know, ✨flustered✨) I don't even have a southern accent myself but I still start to drawl my vowels a little bit if I get wound up enough. }

I'm also a huge fan of the hc some people have suggested that Al loses his static filter when he's tickled, falling into genuine laughter. I have a bit of a hybrid version: I feel like as he resists and tries to suppress his giggles the radio filter gets thicker and thicker, the way it sounds when you're losing a radio station... but then once you REALLY get him good and he can't fight back the hysterics anymore, it'd just drop out completely, and all you can hear is his genuine laughter.

I expect there'd definitely be more and more of that crackling radio background static too (not the voice filter, but the lil buzzy crackle noise that happens when he's not speaking) the more flustered he gets, since that seems to happen pretty consistently when he's nervous.

Ya know that lil squeaky noise Al makes at the very end of "Stayed Gone" (literally the last sound you hear before Vox's "FAHAHAHAHACK!!")? I picture his voice doing a lil compressed version of that noise if somebody sneak-attacks him at juuuust the right moment. Basically his version of a squeal of surprise.

That said.... Alastor seems to have a pretty strong hold on his startle reflex. I mean, a fucking chandelier falls directly in front of him and his expression doesn't falter. So I have a theory that Al is able to keep such a tight hold on his startle reflex because his knee-jerk response to being startled isn't fight or flight, but freeze... a literal "deer-in-the-headlights" if you will 🦌

THEREFORE I feel like that deer-in-the-headlights instinct means that he'd be completely disoriented by tickling, anticipated or not. So few people touch him at all that the mere sensation of being tickled would likely overwhelm him very quickly. Add the tension between his panic and the equal and opposite reluctance to stop it (because, lee)... being tickled would just completely short-circuit the poor guy's brain.

I'm SURE there will be a part 2 to this in the future, so stay tuned! 😁

#oh deer he's ticklish #lee!alastor #ticklish!alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel tickles #tickle headcanons

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avocadofics · 1 year

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Dealing with the executive function

Aizawa x autistic reader

This is for my fellow autistic. Not to romanticize asd but because we don’t have enough media design especially for us. And I want to write fanfic that I can be comforted by on days when my adhd and asd traits make it hard

Synopsis: the reader is having bad executive functions and feel shitty aizawa come home to comfort reader.

Content Warning: executive function problems, anxious thoughts, crying, mentions of forgetting to eat, self doubt. Stay safe friends

You laid on back to the floor. Giving off sighs and a few tears. You had things to do but they were the things you hated doing. You remember shota mentioned something about needing it done. So what did you do?

Spend the majority of the day fighting youself to get started doing anything. You wanted to cry.

You didn’t want to disappoint shota but you felt like you most definitely were. What time was it even? would shota be home soon to see you’ve done nothing.

Oh what about dinner. You haven’t made dinner. Each second of time just added more stress to your list. A tear or two fell from your eyes. While you were laying there crying The cat walked over and plopped himself on your chest. Choco your cat had alway been in tune with your emotions and the weight from the cat helped you breath even if just a little.

“Hey choco, you think shota is gonna be annoyed at me?”

“Mreow”

“Yeah probably not. Doent mean I can’t sit here and think that way” of course right as you started to feel slightly better was when you heard your front door open and the footsteps of you boyfriend walking.

“Why,” his voice spoke up “Are you on the floor?”

“Bad romantic partner with no emotional energy to deal with anything sit in floor. Floor make thing better” you tired looking boyfriend sat down next to you and started petting the cat.

“What’s the problem.” That one thing you appreciated about shota he was never one to beet around the bush. If he knew you were upset hed ask you once if you didn’t want to answer now he’ll ask you later.

“The Chores. All the thing you ask me to do. I spent all day fighting myself cause I hate doing them and I just did nothing today at all.” Your could feel your tears starting to get bigger in your eyes.

“When did you eat last,”

“Huh?”

“When did you eat last,”

“Breakfast I think I don’t remember if I ate lunch or not.” He gave me one of his gentle sighs and stands up.

“Okay up. I’m going to have you go lie down while I make food and do a few chores.”

“But you just got home from work and guy normally take a nap so you can feel decent enough for hero work tonight.” You say staring up at him as he stood above you.

“I’ll see if anyone can cover my zone tonight. You are overwhelmed and I’m not gonna let you deal with it alone. If I got to tired from work you would call up the school and make them give me a day off. I think me taking one night from hero work to support my partner is aloud.” He put his hand down waiting for you to grab it.

“Okay,” you grabbed his hand and he helped you up. You headed to the bedroom exhausted from fighting yourself mentally. You wrapped yourself in a blanket and opened you phone to watch something.

Shota walked in behind you where he switches his hero clothes and puts in some grey sweatpants and a t-shirt you had bought him.

After a few minutes you smell the amazing sent of one of your safe foods. The one you’ve been talking about the last few days but just haven’t had the energy to make it. You were glad that he was taking the night off. Night where shota took time off meant cuddles and getting to rewatch shows while eating yummy food.

Shota walked in and handed you a plate. He moved his way into his side of the bed.

“Thank you shota,”

“Anytime.” You leaned into shota and he wrapped an arm around you.

#aizawa #aizawa x reader #aizawa shota x reader #aizawa shōta x reader #shota x reader #shōta x reader #x reader #fanfiction #autistic #x autistic reader #writing #m4a #aizawa x autistic reader #mha x reader #mha #my hero academia x reader #bnha x reader #Boku no hero x reader #mha x autistic reader

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pinemartenstudios · 2 months

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"Bares, qué lugares tan gratos para conversar. No hay como el calor del amor en un bar"

I've been working on this one for very long. I've started this canvas on February 20th, but the first actual concept for this illustration goes back to 2021, to my extremely early fandom days.

When I read Hollyberry's loading screen fact I doodled her trying to beat her glass record in Sparkling's bar, while Herb and Vamp were cheering on her and Mint Choco was playing some sick violin tunes. I proposed myself to finish that sketch one day... and I never did xd. That didn't mean I didn't forget about that doodle. The game kept evolving.

More little facts were introduced. And the bar from that tiny illustration started growing. Herb was revealed to be able to play de piano in a First Anniversary illustration, and I didn't want Mint Choco to play his violin all alone, so no they're playing music together u.u. And Cocoa went to hear Mint Choco play, of course.

Wildberry became real, so he came cuz Hollyberry dragged him. He went to the corner all alone cuz he's a bit overwhelmed by the ambient. Rye usually hits bars and orders stuff, so I thought she would be here too, probably thinking about how could she get new hints on catching Chili Pepper.

Caviar and Candy Diver are celebrating another day of hard work, and finally we have Royal Margarine, singing. And what is he singing? The song that ended helping me develop the ambient for the scene: "Al calor del amor en un bar", of Gabinete Caligari. The lyrics of the song really suit his character :0.

I wanted to challenge myself with this one. I wanted to create a scene with a lot of different characters all at once, without overwhelming the space and making everyone perfectly noticeable. And I included 11. This was pretty enjoyable to draw, both the process and the final result have been worth the time. Hope you like this one!

BTW: Here's the song https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pUNVmH2ukwY&ab_channel=GabineteCaligari-Topic

#cookie run #cookie run ovenbreak #cookie run kingdom #hollyberry cookie #sparkling cookie #vampire cookie #wildberry cookie #cocoa cookie #mint choco cookie #herb cookie #captain caviar cookie #candy diver cookie #chili pepper cookie #rye cookie #royal margarine cookie

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thegingerwrites · 9 months

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It’s like tuning into a radio frequency. The dial spins without his control and suddenly the audio sharpens into something intelligible.

I bet your Master found you difficult at times.

He’s still new to this. Dying and then living on, they don’t come as naturally as one might think. He came to in Obi-Wan’s arms, filled with Light for the first time in years. The first thing he heard in his new sort-of life was his name, the one his mother gave him, and Obi-Wan’s voice. Anakin.

It was enough joy to nearly break him. The pendulum swung so hard as to nearly topple over before finding something like balance.

He likes the feeling of it, balance. He understands now why the masters at the temple harped on it so much. Obi-Wan says that he might be more balanced than any of them now, that he understands more intimately than anyone what lies in the dark and what it means to find the light.

There is so much and so little to do in this kind of existence. The whole of the universe has opened up to him and it’s overwhelming to say the least. Obi-Wan says it is natural to stay close to those one knew in life, guiding them when necessary but more often than not simply offering a comforting presence.

He never had much experience with Force ghosts in life. He didn’t have that kind of intimate connection with a Force user until later in life and then spent so many of his years denying it. He didn’t know that Obi-Wan sometimes sought guidance from Qui-Gon after he passed. He didn’t know how often he failed to receive it. The thought tears at him, a little. Even though it’s in the past.

Anakin never got to finish my training.

The sound of his name coming from her brings the scene rapidly into focus, like giving a holoprojector just the right thump, the image shifting from electric blue fuzz to life-like clarity in an instant. He sees Ahsoka, knows the conversation she is having and who she is speaking to. He knows what she is about to say even if he can’t quite make himself believe it just yet.

Before the end of the Clone Wars, I walked away from him. And the Jedi.

The memory doesn’t hurt him anymore. Once, it was a wound he was unsure he would survive.

She did the right thing then. She became stronger for it. He is so relentlessly proud of her even now.

Sometimes even the right reasons have the wrong consequences.

This is the part that makes him want to shake her, to appear physically and give her a piece of his mind. It takes him a second to process her meaning, but once he does, once he thinks he does, he wants to make her take it back.

“How could she say that?” Anakin says—shouts to Obi-Wan. “She thinks she’s responsible? For everything that happened? For me?”

He knows Obi-Wan wasn’t paying particular attention to this conversation, but he forces Obi-Wan to listen in. He suspects that his new presence in the Force keeps Obi-Wan more present as well. That without him, Obi-Wan might have already joined the great oneness that is the Force. He suspects Obi-Wan likes it this way instead.

“She doesn’t really think that, does she?”

Obi-Wan strokes his beard, a habit he developed in life and hasn’t given up in death. “She’s lived a long life. Plenty of time to come to terms with what happened.”

“But how could she blame herself? She was a child. She should blame me, blame Palpatine. Someone actually responsible.”

Obi-Wan smiles at him a little sadly. “I happen to know something of guilt myself and it isn’t always logical.”

Anakin scoffs. “I might not be able to tell her how I feel but I can knock some sense into you right now. You weren’t to blame either. I was an adult. I made my own choices.”

Obi-Wan holds up both hands in mock surrender. “Don’t worry, I accepted things as they are long ago. I only mean to suggest that knowing something to be true and feeling it are two entirely different things.”

A lesson Anakin has learned intimately.

“You’ll get your chance to set things right in due time,” Obi-Wan says, placing a gentle hand on Anakin’s shoulder. They aren’t exactly corporeal as they are but they both had bodies long enough to find the gesture comforting. “I know it.”

Anakin takes a deep breath—another unnecessary gesture but one that accomplished the goal of calming him down. He releases his outrage to the Force and finds the same understanding as Obi-Wan. The opportunity will come, he just has to be patient. He finds that patience comes easier to him now than it ever did before.

What do we do then?

We wait. We hope. We fight. And we do better the next time. We have to.

#Star Wars #ahsoka spoilers #ahsoka series #ahsoka show #anakin skywalker #my fic #did I spend way too long thinking about this one scene in the show? maaaaaaybe

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natsugia · 2 years

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I’ve been on a recent literati binge, obsessed with them, and stumbled upon your literati fic, “‘this is tailored made (so what’s the sense in waiting?)”, and wanted to say thank you so much for it. I can honestly say it took over my life for a brief 3 day stint and now, I’m yearning for more of them! YOU DID AMAZING! You gave them justice where the revival lacked. The closure desired from these two. It gave me so much pain and happiness, you wouldn’t believe it. I left reviews, ofc. I can’t thank you enough for how amazing that journey was for me, a delight, through and through. You are a marvelous and gut wrenching writer! You actually know these characters. Thank you so much, again, and I hope to see more from you! Will be checking out your other literati fics, indubitably!

🥰❤️ Thank you so much! The love for this fic has absolutely blown me away. I’m truly humbled and feel blessed to have you and others as such lovely amazing readers. And thank you for leaving a review. They mean the world to me. I’m completely backed up, but eventually I will respond to the rest of them, even the ones who have been waiting for a reply for like a year or two. I’m sorry! You’re not forgotten, I promise. Just overwhelmed with life. 😘 (@milothirst I haven’t forgotten about the Jess + sex post. Posting it soon!)

As for more in the universe, I have a small-ish follow-up I’m working on. TITM’s coming up on the 1k kudos mark on AO3 😱🤯, so I thought to maybe do a wedding sequel as a 1k celebration. I’m about 20% done with it at this point. Given how slow I am at writing with my hectic life schedule right now, we’ll see when I can get that out. Hopefully before summer of next year.

As for my other fics, I am still working on those as well. Next update will be for TWWCIL. I’ve got about 65% of the full story written, but of course it’s mostly towards the end. Once I finish fleshing out the middle, I’ll be able to rewrite chapter 4 and start a more regular update process. After that will be Chapter 8 of OSAS, the full story which has about 7 more chapters left to write before it is finally complete and we can post it regularly as well. And then I’ll post the 2 part Chilton AU, the Lit + cats au, and then finally the time loop AU I’ve been writing in my head for like four years.

So a lot of things to come. I just really need the time to be able to sit down and write. Thought I would have it this year, but my car got taken from me at the beginning of this year due to theft and vandalism, which was a huge loss cause my car IS my livelihood. I make majority of my money from driving gigs, and now that I’m spending about $500 a week with the rental I have while also making less money than before due to constraints of the rental program, it’s been a lot of expenses that I’m juggling at the moment. Once I’m able to buy a new car, I can go back to my ideal three day/weekend work week and get back to writing semi regularly.

I hope you’ll stay tuned. Feel free to come by here to chat or for any updates. I also recently made a Twitter (I HATE myself), so I’m gonna try and start posting more on there as well. Anon from months ago, if you’re still here, you can now find me @natsugia1 on Twitter. I should warn you though that my twitter will probably be a LOT more eclectic in terms of what I tweet on there, given what I’ve already been sucked into on that dumpster fire of a platform.

Wishing you a beautiful and wonderful summer. Sending you the QUEEN for Fun and Love and Life

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lale-txt · 2 years

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Hi Lale! How are you? I hope you're well!

I adore your writing and was wondering if you have any tips how to become a better writer?

hey hey! (o´▽`o)

i'm flattered, that's so sweet! thank you for the compliment. i had to give your question some thought because it made my thoughts ping pong back and forth on how to answer this the best (since i believe there's not universal answer to that, so i can only talk from my experience).

for me, writing is something that i've always done? it comes naturally to me, i usually don't overthink it or follow any set rules (except like the basics you get taught in school of course). but it's a craft like any other and can be learned and improved constantly!

and like with any craft it's important to know your tools! since English isn't my first language this means looking up things in the dictionary constantly, using spell check, having a beta reader...

for me, having someone beta read my fics definitely helped me improve and learn a lot during the process. not only does it give you a new pair of eyes looking over your text when you're feeling stuck, but they will also point out errors and details you'll oversee no matter how often you re-read your own text. it can be a little overwhelming at first when you're not used to it, but i feel it's a trust the process thing. this doesn't mean you gotta get a beta for everything you write, but it sure is nice to have the option!

also, i know there is tons of posts with link collections out there with helpful resources for writers. all depending on how and what you write those can be super helpful, too! i don't have any at hand unfortunately, but whenever i stumble upon one i see if there's anything helpful for me to work with (like describing body language & gestures or personality traits)

another great advice i've read once and that i tell myself over and over again: you're allowed to have a shitty sentence or two. try to tune down that raging perfectionism that got you in a chokehold and just write. bring it to paper, you can still edit it later. try not to overthink every sentence and focus on the plot.

and i think what's the most important thing at all: write what you want. tell the story you want to tell. what's your motivation for wanting to write? your fuel? find that and use it, write everything down, scrap it, start over, spill ink over it, find a thousand different words to describe the same feeling over and over again, find your voice and don't be afraid to use it.

#this is messy but i hope it's a little helpful or motivating 🤠#definitely was a fun question to think about! so thank you for asking and reaching out #i'm sure i could add 478237 more thoughts on this but i'll leave it like that for now #lale.ask

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vimbry · 1 year

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tagged by @uighean ! <3

tea, coffee, or soda? none I have a baby palate. but I actually haven't tried that many teas!

dogs or cats? both but.... I prefer dogs a little bit more, especially because I had one growing up. <3

can you play an instrument? nooo but I do own a couple so. I Really should... I've had a little guitar in my bedroom since I was like 8, and it's really out of tune so I'd have to put it back again

what’s your sun sign? gemini, and astrology things are really mean to me about it

first song lyrics that came into your head? bc I listened to it last night: as your body floats down third street, with the burn-smell factory closing uuuup. yes it's sad to say, you will romanticiiiise, all the things you've known beforeee

do you have any tattoos? nope they're cool & I love the idea of them, but I know I'd get bored easy

favourite place you’ve travelled? omg I dunno... I enjoyed the few times I went up to the hebrides to stay with cousins as a kid. I also really liked copenhagen, especially nyhavn! I know it's a real cliche picturesque place, but I had such a good evening there with friends once!

what’s the last movie you watched? rewatched "only yesterday" and please please everyone watch that, too. I know suggestions are off-putting but it's SUCH a wonderful, life-affirming story about discovering where you're loved and belong in adulthood. watch that and "kiki's delivery service" back to back like I did to feel something lmao.

what languages do you speak? ahh only english. I should learn something tho bc it's fascinating and helpful, but it just gets overwhelming and intimidating because I don't know what to start with lol. I was briefly learning german but I forgot it all by now.

do you have any hobbies? drawing and making comics sometimes, photography, gardening, video games!

you can hang out with one fictional character for an hour, who do you choose? uhhh uhh uhhh. I mean the first that came to mind was yotsuba's dad LMAO. like if I'm taking it really practically, that'd be the easiest one to chill with.

compliment yourself: ok. I think I've gotten a lot better at things than I give myself credit for :) and people have said I make them laugh so. I'm funny hehe

I think a lot of people got tagged on this one already, so please do take it if you want n don't be shy!! that means you! <3

#tag meme

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flowerboycaleb · 4 days

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every month I'm gonna try to post reviews of three albums from years past!! this week i wrote about one of the most masterful fusions of soul and funk of all time: Hot Buttered Soul by Isaac Hayes!!! also feel free to follow me on rate your music and twitter <3

Hot Buttered Soul - Isaac Hayes

◇ release date: May 1969 ◇ genres: funk, deep soul, smooth soul

Years ago, I went to the record store with a friend of mine, and while flipping through that store’s soul section we stumbled across this album. Obviously, we giggled. The album art is a top-down shot of this dude’s big bald head and it was called Hot Buttered Soul, it seemed inherently goofy. The protective sleeve over it in the store noted that it was an “ORIGINAL 1969 PRESS,” and the store only made those kinds of distinctions for very “important” albums. Because of that, we were intrigued. My friend decided to take the leap and buy it, not having heard a single note of the music. The owner of the record store seemed so excited when he brought it up there, heaping loads of praise onto it. A few days pass and this friend texts me and says something to the extent of “Dude, you need to listen to this!” Not long after, I listened to it on streaming and then proceeded to track down a vinyl pressing for myself almost immediately after.

Hot Buttered Soul is a masterpiece, plain and simple. It’s a deconstruction and a rebuilding of pop and soul music. He stretches these compositions to their absolute end. Exploring every twist and turn of these tunes, it’s entrancing. The only song Hayes has a writing credit on is the second track “Hyperbolicsyllabicsesquedalymistic,” (wow, that’s fun to type) other than that this album is completely comprised of pop and soul hits from some of the most prolific songwriters of the decade.

Isaac Hayes

The most iconic song here is Hayes’ version of Burt Bacharach and Hal David’s hit song “Walk On By.” A number-one hit for Dionne Warwick a few years prior, the version here is significantly different. What once was an easy-going lounge track is now an intense, sharp, overwhelming odyssey. Extending the song to a lengthy 12 minutes, leaving no stone unturned. Weighty string arrangements, fuzzy warm guitar courtesy of Funkadelic’s Harold Beane, the horns, and Hayes’ psychedelic organs, there’s just so much to this arrangement. Too much to mention in writing, it’s one of those songs that’s better experienced than read about. As a vocalist, Hayes fits perfectly. He’s captivating in his own way, but it never distracts from how captivating the entire arrangement is. You just get … doubly captivated. Absolutely blown away. Hearing this for the first time was so eye-opening and all these years later I’m still in awe of it. This song’s legacy could be written about to no end. It’s become a sample staple in the hip hop world. Sampled by countless artists, the likes of the Wu-Tang Clan, MF DOOM, 2Pac, and Beyoncé just to name a few. It’s one of the greatest songs of all time.

So with as colossal of an opener as that, does the rest of the album hold up? Yes, it absolutely does. “Hyperbolicsyllabicsesquedalymistic” (full disclosure, I copied and pasted it this time) cranks up the funkiness present in the previous song tenfold. The arrangement here is deep funk. Some have interpreted the lyrics to be about heroin addiction, which I can understand especially when the song refers to a doctor warning the narrator that the subject is a danger to his heart. However, the lyrics here almost feel like a means to an end. Hayes’ delivery is nonchalant like he’s just saying what best fits the groove of the song. Either reading of the song fits, it’s pretty brilliant. It’s also a good reminder that this album’s sound is heavily indebted to not just the intricate orchestration, but from The Bar-Kays work as a backing band as well. These songs are just so masterful on every level.

The second side consists of two more songs. One being his version of “One Woman” written by Charles Chalmers and Sandra Rhodes. This is the most restrained song here, it’s not as sprawling or adventurous, it’s just a damn fine smooth soul cut. Interestingly enough, a month prior, Al Green would do a version of the song for his sophomore album Green Is Blues. With all due respect to Green, I prefer Hayes’ version by a considerable margin. The other song, and the album’s closer, is an epic 18-minute version of the Jimmy Webb penned “By the Time I Get to Phoenix,” which was a big hit for Glenn Campbell in 1967. Campbell’s version is great, but the direction Hayes takes the song is infinitely more captivating. The song opens with a low organ, almost drone-like, and subtle contributions from the rhythm section. Hayes opens the song with a spoken word introduction, literally setting up the song. He tells the listener to “travel with [him]” as he tells this roughly 9-minute story. It’s a total subversion of your expectations and I love it. You hang onto every word and that moment when Hayes finally sings “By the time I get to Phoenix, she’ll be rising” is one of the most satisfying payoffs in music history. He takes this song and makes it his own. Completely reconstructing the song for him and him alone.

Isaac Hayes

Hot Buttered Soul still sounds ambitious and enthralling to this day. It’s one of the most intricate albums, not just in the genre, but of the entire 1960s. It is a complete renovation of pop and soul music that hasn’t been replicated to this day. Perhaps the closest anyone has gotten to prog-soul. Everything on this album packs an undeniable punch. It’s been years since I first listened to this record, but it’s still just as powerful, maybe more so, after all this time. You owe it to yourself to experience Hot Buttered Soul.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ thanks for reading :3

#throwback thursday #music #rateyourmusic #music review #isaac hayes #soul #funk #60s music

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eavanyhuang · 4 months

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Paper as Ceremony, Hospice, and Abolition

All memes below are from the Instagram account @softcore_trauma by Margeaux Feldman, they have great trauma-informed political education content!

I’d like to think of the process of writing an academic paper as transcription for people who have difficulties seeing and witnessing what folks in the struggles have been trying to convey to them. It is a tedious thankless labor because I have to pay to get it presented in conferences, allow it to become property of the publishers who think they own the world, and risk being tuned out at anytime if anything I said make them feel “uncomfortable”. Their spiritual hell is contagious. Welp. It is really overwhelming and challenging sometimes, not intellectually, but psychologically. I often find myself experiencing stages of post-traumatic affects: flashbacks, impulses, rage, self-doubt, and/or the deep inability to grieve and let go of the lingering attachment to a genuine audience with relational maturity. No, this is a job that requires me to talk to epistemic abusers. And yes, it is fucking traumatic and traumatizing. And these are such identical feelings I have in engaging with academia writ large, UAW region 6, and cis male-led social movement spaces.

What does “activist scholarship” mean anyways? How are they conceptually two separate things? Is there a way to do research that doesn’t feel like a complete betrayal of who I am? Or is this whole academia thing just for the job? Where is my “pipeline”, if it’s neither academia nor the non-profit industrial complex? I found academic white anarchists or radicals’ advice unhelpful for thinking about these questions. And I don’t think, however much I might be willing to conform to the norms of academia or fraternity unionism, I would ever get a job in either places as an “alien” anyway. And once again I went back to Shawn Wilson’s book, Research Is Ceremony: Indigenous Research Methods, in which he notes:

“……Indigenous research is a ceremony and must be respected as such. A ceremony, according to Minnecunju Elder Lionel Kinunwa, is not just the period at the end of the sentence. It is the required process and preparation that happens long before the event. It is, in Atkinson’s translation, dadirri, the many ways and forms and levels of listening. It is, in Martin’s terminology, Ways of Knowing, Ways of Being, and Ways of Doing. It is the knowing and respectful reinforcement that all things are related and connected. It is the voices from our ancestors that tell us when it is right and when it is not. Indigenous research is a life changing ceremony.” (61)

But then parts of me seem to be asking, why is it that I feel so hesitant to write down what I think? Why is it so damn hard to write academically comparing to writing for the movement or for my personal journals? If it is just a ceremony it would clearly be easier? This leads me to think that maybe a ceremony of “what is” has to come after the hospice work for “what was”. It is when I imagine an academic audience sitting in front of me that the traumatic flashbacks happen. This audience does not have to be overly harsh at all, they can be resonating with whatever I present but still give me a deep sense of shame. Maybe they are just me, and maybe I am socialized into this overly critical view towards myself and my own works. And this might be the part where hospicing comes in. The individuality, the fear, the pride combined with low self-esteem, the unknown rules of the academic game, the willing player, the gatekeeping gazes. Clarity to the world I want to see is confusion to the world I will hospice, and that creates immense difficulty and even impossibility for the writer in me. I do think this feeling that I don’t know how to position myself and my own work plays a big part in my academic stagnation. After abandoning the position of a fearful and self-loathing graduate student, I have sunken into the liminal space of cynicism and disengagement for a long time. The lack of motivation is surely a tricky thing to navigate in life, especially when pragmatic reasons force you to do something. It at least seems like finishing the degree would be the most pragmatic thing to do, but then I should be cautious about rationalizing this pragmatic goal through creating some rationale for it. The impulse to refuse a purely instrumental view of academic writing is perhaps the source of my struggle. Maybe it is just for the job, for the degree, and for the visa. I mean, what kind of ultimate meaning would a worker find in her tedious repetitive labor? Should she? The fact that we think academic work is so much different from factory manual labor is kind of ridiculous. This momentarily reminds me of the poems by Xu Lizhi, extremely powerful and sad, punching a unmendable hole on the wall of hope. How is life livable if hope is lost?

Maybe even before hospice work, we need to think about academic work as traumatic and traumatizing. We are expected to create knowledge out of a vacuum, to allow the tokenization of our bodies, to be deprived of our souls so that we can be the zombies of publishing, to continuously be the supplier of words for the market, to divorce ourselves from communities so that we will be accepted by authorities, to be different, to stand out, to perform. To talk about healing is a betrayal to those getting a slap in the face every second by reality. I do not want to play this game called academia, maybe admitting this is the first step to write the paper, to hospice modernity. Academia itself is the drug, and our addiction looks like the constant oscillation between hyperarousal and hypoarousal. We are either high on the substance, along with all the fame, achievement, recognition, praises, rewards, congratulations, and adrenaline-driven work ethics, or in desperate need to use it, in a state of anxiety, fear, despair, emptiness, uncertainty, shame, self-doubt, self-blame, cynicism, and more. And maybe we relapse, or we quit in extreme distress. With this, perhaps the first thing to do to shift our view of academic research is to abolish academia as we know it.

#academia

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runaway90s · 4 months

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"Research shows that college dropout rates for autistic individuals are higher than those of their neurotypical peers. According to a study conducted by the National Autism Indicators Report, only 34% of autistic college students complete their degree within six years, compared to 60% of their neurotypical peers."

When I was 18, I got accepted into ALL of my top college picks - University of Minnesota - Twin Cities, UW - Eau Claire, UW - Madison and UW - La Crosse. Of course, since it was my dream, I went to U of M - Twin Cities. I went for 6 months and literally had the time of my life. I studied Creative Writing and English Literature. I still honestly would recommend that campus to ANYONE. It is truly incredible. But, after 1 semester, I went back home for Christmas break and felt so homesick and overwhelmed. I also deeply missed my boyfriend at the time who lived in Horicon, WI.

I went back up for the second semester and tried to get back into the swing of things. I sincerely and dearly loved my roommates and the friends I had made there. But, when I went into class, I felt so distracted and "tuned out" you could say. I felt like I was wasting my time. I also had the sinking feeling that I wasn't going to be able to pay for the rest of the semester, even though I was working and had scholarships. I ran out of the classroom and called my mom and told her I wanted to drop out. She asked me if I was sure. I said yes.

Looking back at this moment in my life, I can't tell if I made a mistake or not. Moving back to my hometown and back in with my mom and starting to wait tables again - I mean, that's not really ascension is it? But at the same time, I felt my heart was pulling me somewhere. I moved to Madison in 2014 and enrolled in Madison College where I found a great fit for me. I became involved in the Student Newspaper and studied Journalism and Psychology. I was enjoying myself a lot, but I wanted to go deeper in focusing on JUST creative writing. I transferred to UW - Milwaukee because of their creative arts program but because I lived in Madison at the time, the commute was too much for me. I studied poetry there and once again, I had a great time, but then I dropped out after 2 months.

As you read this you might think, WOW. Get your shit together girl, right? Maybe. Or maybe not. Because guess what happened after I dropped out of UW - Milwaukee? I joined a Fiction Writer's Workshop in Madison led by two well-known Authors. I started writing books and short stories. And that felt even more amazing.

#college #autism #autism support #college degree

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apieceofconsciousness · 1 year

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oh my fucking god im 18 in a week

god i was about to write some sappy shit and it just it me and its over im no longer a child ever ever again after this and im crying im fucking sobbing its 2:29 in the morning and i have school tmrw and my jaw is shaking because i cant stop sobbing. this is the end. the final nail in the coffin of childhood. i cant do this im not ready please take me back im so sorry i know i wasnt a good person but also maybe i was 15 for fucks sake im so sorry ive hurt so many people and i cant take it back i cant even do mothers day right for gods sake my mom has to deal with me so much im so so so sorry mom i love you so much and i cant even show it properly god i cant do this i can barely do mondays god im losing myself im losing myself so much. ive been a wreck on legs for a decade and im getting slower i cant do this anymore i cant do anything properly by myself anymore i am so fucking bad at this i had so so so much more i wanted to do by the time i hit this for some reason magic number 18 and god im such a fucking failure. im so so so sorry. why am i so wrong. jackie has to put up with me my friends just deal with me i can see it when they instantly tune out they dont care anymore because ive been too high around them too many times they instantly think i have nothing useful to say or they just dont care and i get it i fucking get it i beg and beg and plead for change but i just cant do it its too much to handle and its too much to do and i cant handle it because im fucking useless. everyone around me is going to these universities and i feel like im losing myself even after having a plan. i dont know what to do. i has supposed to do more things than ive done and im so lazy and useless and shes going to leave me once shes had enough of my bullshit and no matter how much i care i can never show it properly never take the actions to do it properly. why is everyone else always doing it better, why do they seem more put together. i cant do this anymore. what wall am i behind that im missing just how horrible am i at everything god im so fucking bad at this. it took a very long time to understand just how deep the hate for myself goes. im battling myself. im so so tired. i need help and im still never going to ask for it in the way i need, that would be too much out of someone. i cant do this anymore, my body is tired, my mind is tired, i want to wither away. all of my desperate reaches to be noticed, to be a mark on the world is overwhelmed by not wanting to be a burden onto the people around me. i can barely show the right love back to the people who love me, the people who care about me. if im going to be worth nothing, then i shouldnt be taking up this space and time and become nothing. I WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO MAKE IT HERE. I TRIED TO END IT 5 TIMES BUT OUT OF PURE SPITE OF DEATH I REMAIN HERE. I LIVE. I LIVE!!! I LIVE AND I LOVE AND I BREATHE. I REMAIN HERE TO LOVE. PLEASE READ THIS. PLEASE REMEMBER ME. PLEASE ASK ME HOW IM DOING AND ASK AGAIN WHEN ITS OBVIOUSLY THE WRONG ANSWER. PLEASE ACCEPT ME FOR WHO I AM. IM SORRY I DONT KNOW HOW TO BE THE BEST PERSON OR FRIEND OR PARTNER OR SON BUT IM TRYING IM TRYING GODAMMIT WHAT IS THIS FOR IF NOT TO TRY AND TRY AND TRY. I REMEMBER BEING 12 AND THINKING I MIGHT NOT MAKE IT TO 18 BUT IM HERE I FUCKING MADE IT OH MY FUCKING GOD IT TOOK SO MUCH BLOOD SWEAT AND TEARS AND IT MEANS FUCKING NOTHING BECAUSE THE TIME WOULDVE PASSED ANYWAYS BUT WE'RE HERE WE DID IT 15 YEAR OLD ME. DO YOU REMEMBER WHEN 18 WASNT EVEN A POSSIBILITY BESIDES IN PROMISES TO PEOPLE WE CANT EVEN TALK TO ANYMORE? IM FUCKING HERE AND IT SUCKS OH MY GOD IT SUCKS SO FUCKING BADLY BUT IM STILL HERE AFTER ALL OF IT. I CANT EVEN IMAGINE GOING THROUGH SHIT RN FOR 6 MONTHS BUT I LOOK BACK AND IVE BEEN SAYING THAT ABOUT SHIT FOR YEARS AND LOOK WE'VE BEEN STAYING MOVING FORWARD. ITS SO HARD TO CONTAIN IM SHAKING AND SOBBING MY EYES OUT BUT WE DID IT WE DID IT IM PROUD OF YOU I HATE YOU SO MUCH BUT WE MADE IT HERE. REMEMBER THAT EVERY SINGLE DAY. THIS WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN. BUT ITS HERE IN SPITE OF IT ALL

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ponreviews · 2 years

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PonUpdates No. 16 - Hangin' in There

Happy Father's Day to those who celebrate! To those who may not want to celebrate, I'm your new daddy. Also, it's Juneteenth! It's always good to be aware of history: the good, the bad, and the ugly. Of course, keeping up with holidays is not why y'all tune in for my posts.

You're probably here to see what the next batch is all about. I'll give you a hint: They're all familiar names. In all honesty, I didn't anticipate that the titles I've already reviewed would be lined up this way. This also means that we have five straight reviews of titles I've already reviewed at least once.

I hope y'all don't mind me going back to those titles. The way I chose to order the reviews had a purpose, though I guess this was a bit of a hiccup when putting them together. Regardless, I still feel it's a good order because the titles are still spaced out in a way that doesn't overwhelm my feed with the same title over and over again. Eventually, I may be forced to bunch up the titles together, but if I can, I will avoid doing so.

With that being said, here are our familiar titles on deck:

Boruto - 06.24.2022 And we have another Boruto review. You might be thinking there's a lot of Boruto reviews that seem to be on deck. Believe me there are. There's another one already written, and plenty more I need to get through. Get this though, even with this many reviews on deck, I'm still not caught up to the anime. Don't worry though, it won't be a barrage of reviews for Boruto coming in the coming months. There will be breaks between the reviews for your sake and mine.

BoJack Horseman - 06.29.2022 It's been a minute since I revisited this one, and unlike Boruto, it will be quite some time before I get to Season 5. You probably wish it was the other way around. Trust me I do too, but it just happened that way. I still haven't watched Season 6, so it'll be some time before I can finish the reviews for this series.

Solo Leveling - 07.04.2022 Who doesn't love celebrating America by reading about a Korean webcomic? Unlike Boruto and BoJack, I've completed this one 100%. The manhwa had finished a while ago and this will be the last review for Solo Leveling. I did promise that I would revisit this again once it's complete. So you will see it soon.

To be honest, I wasn't sure if I would be able to guarantee Solo Leveling by the time this update post went out. Elections were in full swing in my area, and it was pretty overwhelming considering the amount of research I needed to do if I wanted to pick the right choice. On top of that, I've been needed at work a lot lately. Of course, I'm able to manage my time enough to get it done, but as I said before, I don't want to get too stressed.

Then again, it's why I made the system I'm going with for scheduling my reviews. If IRL responsibilities take over my time, I'll slow down my posts and give myself a chance to catch up.

With that, that's all for now!

-pon 🤍

#pon updates #not a review #06.19.2022

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harryspet · 3 years

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off to the races | s.rogers

[Warnings] dark!steve rogers x reader, stripper!reader, ddlg, daddy!steve, abduction/kidnapping, mafia boss steve, murder/violence, a hint of peter x reader, hint of forced regression, sexy stuff, unprotected sex (wear condoms kiddos), hella angst

A/N: I do not stan lana del rey but I do stan off to the races :)

In which you call the kingpin your Daddy.

word count: 4.9k

main masterlist

taglist: @cherienymphe @peterztinglez @lovelynerdytraveler @buckysbunny @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @arts-ismything @saharzek @lovemassivelybeautifulbouquet @what-is-your-wish @brattypeony @hermayone @buckysugar @mischiefmanaged011 @visintaes

God, do they have to play this song every night?

You tried to tune out the annoying pop song, continuing to grind your hips against the man you were giving a small lap dance. You wondered how long you could grind against his beer belly before he finally requested a private dance. Lucky for you, you felt some cash being slipped between the lace of your turquoise, panty set. You turned around, a mischievous smile on your face, as you reached out to grab his tie.

He was mesmerized by you as you expected, and you imagined that he was dying to see more of your scantily clothed body. A hundred dollars for fifteen minutes in a private room. If you could manage to get a few more private dances tonight, you’d consider yourself successful.

You brought him to one of the back rooms and got to work. You let him run his hands over your bottom but once they started to reach between your legs, you knew what to do, “Ah, ah, ah, you know the rules,” You hid your frustration behind your sultry voice. You climbed on his lap, straddling him, as you reached around to undo your top. Beneath the lacy top were your breast but decorated in shiny gemstones.

A lot of the other girls hated glitter and spending time doing stuff like applying tiny gems but you knew that it was another shiny thing for men to look at. You needed their attention. Besides, you didn’t mind the way it looked either. His eyes were wide and he gripped your bottom as you moved your breast, an inch away from his face.

When the fifteen minutes were over, you quickly collected your top and fastened it back on, “Come and see me soon, baby,” You said something of that nature, all your words blurred together by the end of the night.

You managed to get about four more private dances and as one a.m. approached, you were ready to be anywhere else but here. You headed underneath the neon exit sign, heading for the locker rooms, where it seemed a lot of girls were on their way out. You passed naked, sweaty bodies, and clouds of spray deodorant as you made your way to your locker, already slipping out of your tall heels.

The first thing you pulled out was your money bag and you were careful when you were counting each dollar bill, tucking it away nicely. You felt a tap on your shoulder, turning around to see Wanda, red lollipop in one hand, and a white check in the other. Your eyes widened as soon as you read the number, “I’m missing fifty bucks,” You told her.

She gave you a knowing look, “Late fee, Y/N.”

“I was a minute late! I even called and told him my train was late,” Angrily, you stuffed your money bag into your duffle bag.

“He’s not in a good mood, some suit was talking with him earlier,” Wanda shrugged, sensing she had bigger things to worry about. Like you, she made her money dancing and was trying to get by supporting herself, “I wouldn’t argue with him today.”

“Screw that, fifty dollars is the difference between me making rent. He can’t do this,” You slammed your locker closed and you were about to storm off when Wanda grabbed your arm.

“C’mon, we should go. Clint is gonna walk us to the station and he won’t wait for you.”

“I won’t be long,” You shrugged her off, making your way out of the dressing room, and toward Loki’s office. He controlled every part of the Mischief club, set the prices, chose the dancers, and even had a strict list of clientele. It wasn’t the nicest club you’d worked at but it was the closest thing to a consistent paycheck.

You didn’t bother knocking, knowing that you had a point to make and only a certain amount of time to say it, “Fifty dollars! Are you serious-” You stopped in your tracks, realizing that your boss was not alone. Not only was he not alone, but you were also in deep shit. Steve Rogers sat across from the playboy club owner and, looking at the handsome silver-fox, you thought your heart might explode out of your chest.

He’d found you.

He smiled as soon as he saw you, “Babydoll,” A name you’d usually swoon at, made you cringe inside. There he was, clad in an expensive suit and dark overcoat.

Your eyes met with those of Sam and Bucky who had made themselves comfortable by one of the tall bookcases, waiting for their boss to command them to do something. As Steve’s eyes raked over your body, you realized they’d never seen you like this.

“You know her?” Loki leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk, an eyebrow raised, “... sir.” He added quickly. You don’t know why you were so surprised by this, knowing that Steve was feared everywhere, and Loki, no matter how evil, wouldn’t be the one to challenge him.

“I saw you perform tonight,” Steve spoke to you and, in his mind, you imagined that you were the only one he was seeing right now, “You looked beautiful.”

You hadn’t realized that you probably looked like you’d just seen a ghost. You tried to let go of some of the tension in your body, “What are you doing here?” You tried to keep your voice from faltering and, considering that you were half-dressed, you tried not to let your insecurities overwhelm you.

“As of a few minutes ago, I am the sole owner of the Mischief Club,” Your heart had stopped its pounding and now it was sinking into your stomach, “If you have any grievances with your employer, you can speak to me-”

“This isn’t your side of the city,” Your lip trembled, anger bubbling within you, “Why … y-you . . . Steve, you can’t do this.”

“Every part of this city is mine, Babydoll,” He sighed, standing up from his chair, reminding you of his large, intimidating frame. Reminding you that you were nothing compared to him. You didn’t move as he crossed the room, moving until he was only standing an inch from you, slowly reaching out his hand until he was touching your cheek, “Chasing you made me realize that I should expand my influence. A club like this is a shit hole now but, in a few months, I’d make it a cash cow.”

“Once you run drugs through the place, you mean,” He tensed up for a moment and you realized you’d struck a chord. His hand was on your throat, his thumb brushing over your cheek, and a piercing gaze burning holes into your skin.

“I wouldn’t worry your pretty little head over it,” For a moment, you closed your eyes, and imagined wrapping your arms around him. He’d become your haven so quickly and you’d almost forgotten how it felt for someone to care so much for you. Love you even when you didn’t want to love yourself. When you opened them again, you realized what he meant by his words.

He wasn’t giving you a choice.

You stepped back, letting his hand fall back to his side, before you crossed your arms, “Things aren’t going back to the way they were.”

Much to your surprise, Steve nodded, “No, I made some mistakes. Letting you go being the biggest one.”

You rolled your eyes, “You’re dangerous, Steve, and I want nothing to do with it.”

“And this is safer, Y/N?” He raised his voice, “Men having their grimy hands all over you . . . I’m taking you home.”

“I can take care of myself!”

“Really?” He smirked condescendingly, and you imagined he was seeing you as a bratty child throwing a tantrum, “He-” He stepped to the side, and pointed a finger at Loki, “-was going to lay you off a week from now. The club went under a long time ago and he was going to take your hard-earned money and run, leaving you with nothing. What would you do then?”

Loki stood up, interrupting, a nervous smile on his face, “Not with nothing. I-I pay all the ladies very well and I would like to continue to do that . . . that’s why I’m so grateful for your generosity, Mr. Rogers-” He cleared his throat awkwardly. He was lying through his teeth.

“You won’t be paying them anymore, Mr. Laufeyson,” Steve spoke calmly, too calmly, and as his hands reached up to his waist belt, you suspected the worse.

“Steve-”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Loki rushed out his words as Steve pointed his favorite silver handgun in his direction, “We had a deal!”

“Steve, don’t!” Panicked, you grabbed a hold of his strong arm. As soon as you saw him, you knew the night wouldn’t end good but death was not something you predicted. Before, he’d never show you the violent side of his world. Now, something had changed, “Steve, please don’t!”

“Come with me,” He spoke sternly, “Come home and I won’t.”

“Okay,” You said immediately, looking up at his unchanging expression. He didn’t move which only panicked you further, “I will! Steve, please don’t.”

“He’s not a good man. He’s been using you this whole time,” Steve said, finally turning to look at you. Your body was shaking, the idea of being so close to the gun was frightening you further, “You’d give yourself up for this scumbag?”

Though it made you more anxious, you moved closer to him, grabbing a hold of his free hand. With your other arm, you hugged his torso, and as he stared down at him, “I-I don’t want you to hurt anyone, Daddy,” You spoke softly, “ . . . please, Daddy?” Something softened in his features as you called him by his favorite nickname. He squeezed your smaller hand and, for a moment, you thought things might be okay.

The sound was deafening when Steve pulled the trigger. Although you couldn’t hear anything, you knew you were screaming, and that you weren’t sure if you ever wanted to open your eyes ever again. He tried to wrap his arms around you and you remembered fighting it, hitting his chest, and screaming even louder. Somewhere along the line, you gave in, he was too strong, letting him wrap his long coat over your scantily clothed figure.

You were breathing heavily and when you decided to open your eyes again, everything was blurry, “Daddy had to . . . I’m sorry . . . Babydoll,” You heard in your ear. You were moving, he was holding you . . . when had he picked you up? When did the car start driving? You wished badly that you’d listened to Wanda.

You remembered holding onto him tighter, crying into his shoulder, “Why?” He heard the pain in your voice, felt the realization that your life would never be the same.

“Because you’re mine,” He rubbed circled into your back, leaving soft kisses on your cheek, “And I needed to remind you of what your Daddy is capable of. Anyone who hurts you, anyone who even lays a hand on you, is going to meet the same fate.”

“I don’t want this,” You hiccuped. Steve didn’t believe you, not with the way you were holding him. “This . . . it’s so scary, S-Steve.”

“I’m sorry I had to scare you, baby,” It reminded him of last year when things were good between you two, and you comfortably moved in and out of little space. He could sense you were dying to go to that safe space and, selfishly, he was hoping the trauma of tonight would push you into that mindset, “Daddy’s going to take better care of you. You’ll live with me now, where you’ll be safe.”

You only closed your eyes, no fight left in you. In the world of Steve Rogers, you didn’t think safety existed.

You awoke in a pink cloud. The sheets were so soft, heavenly even, and it almost made you forget your situation. You felt something crawling on top of the sheets and you sat up quickly, almost giving yourself whiplash. Realizing it was a furry, white creature, you relaxed, “Alpine, you scared me,” The cat crawled into your embrace and you pet it gently, wondering where exactly it’s owner was.

As you looked around what you assumed was your new room, you couldn’t help but be a bit impressed. You almost forgot how well Steve knew you. Elegant white furniture, a canopy bed with white fabric falling from the sides, a huge wardrobe, a bookcase, a mountain of stuffed animals - frogs, elephants, dolphins, practically the entire animal kingdom - and the fairy lights were a nice touch.

Maybe you were more than impressed. Astounded, actually.

“Oh my . . . stars,” You climbed out of the queen-sized bed, cat in your arms, and quickly realized that your lingerie was gone and your glitter had been washed away. Did he give you a bath? While you were sleeping? You dressed in a large t-shirt and as you brought the fabric up to your nose, you realized it was his, “Why didn’t you warn me that he was this off his rocker, Alpine?”

The cat only responded with a quiet meow.

You moved over to the window and, expectedly, it didn’t budge when you tried to push it open. You looked out onto the vast landscape, perfectly manicured rolling hills of green, a garden, Olympic sized pool, beautiful white statues, and armed guards to match.

It was like you remembered though Steve didn’t bring you to his “private home” often. The two of you always met in the city and, what started as an interesting sugar arrangement, quickly blossomed into a new dynamic.

You wandered around the room, examining every detail that he had put into it. You imagined the military man had placed a lot of the objects himself, making sure everything was perfect when you saw it.

The room is also gigantic, you could do at least ten cartwheels from one wall to the other. You’d never imagined living somewhere like this, the room itself was bigger than any place you’d ever lived.

As the door creaked open, Alpine leaped from your arms, taking the opportunity to escape. You watched the creature crawl between Steve’s legs before slipping out, probably going to look for Bucky. As your eyes traveled up his figure, you assumed he’d be dressed down in his home but the businessman was clad in another suit.

You were glad not to be crying anymore but seeing him now was reminding you of the horror show that was last night, “My things, I had money in my bag,” Was the first thing you thought to say, “I want it.”

“You don’t need it,” He said what you assumed he would.

“But-” You stopped yourself, “Can you give it to Wanda, please?”

“Please and thank you?” Steve cocked his eyebrow, smirking, “I wasn’t expecting that from you today.”

You didn’t respond, only crossed your arms defiantly, “I want Wanda to have it.”

“Done,” Steve raised his hands in surrender, “Is that all you want? Can I interest you in breakfast, little one?”

He didn’t know how deeply his words cut into you. How you wanted nothing more than to forget your worries and be his little girl. How you’d probably get on your knees and kindly do anything he asked . . . if this was a perfect world. You tried to shake that feeling because this world was anything but perfect.

“I guess,” Your hunger suddenly crossing your mind.

He nodded, a smile threatening to form on his lips, “Do you want help getting ready?” You quickly shook your head and you assumed he knew that it would be your response, “Well, I picked something out for you. I left it in the bathroom.”

“So what, I’m supposed to . . . wear whatever you want and be your little trophy?”

“And if you sit still and look pretty, Daddy will buy you anything you want,” Your eyes narrowed at him and you looked away, knowing you’d probably burst into flames if you looked at the annoying smirk any longer, “I’ll come to get you in ten minutes.”

You were already walking towards the bathroom, feeling his eyes on you the entire way. The bathroom was even more immaculate than the bedroom, a big chandelier hanging from the tall ceiling, with sleek marble fixtures. You avoided the mirror when the thick makeup came off at the end of the day, so you were shocked seeing your bare face. It made you look . . . innocent. It was the opposite image the club wanted to present.

You found a new toothbrush in one of the drawers and proceeded to brush your teeth, before washing your face.

The dress he’d picked out was frilly and white, a stark but beautiful contrast to your skin. It puffed at the sleeves but grabbed your waist and then flounced out when reaching down to your knees. You did a small twirl, letting the ends of the dress softly caress the tips of your fingers. Realizing you liked it quite a lot made you frown in the mirror.

Most likely, there was no racy lingerie and tassels in that wardrobe. He said you looked beautiful last night but there was no chance he’d let you ever look like that again, especially in front of his men.

When you left the bathroom and realized Steve had not returned, you decided to slip out of the room. You wandered down the big hallway, your bare feet padding against the carpet, as you examined each piece of artwork and decoration. Steve’s taste was expensive but his style was old-fashioned, choosing elegance over flashy things.

You admired it for a second and then remembered the blood spilled, the money stolen, and the dirty things that funded it.

“I thought I said I’d come and get you.”

You turned around, noticing how his breath caught in his throat as he took you in. He was deadly, he killed a man right in front of you, yet he was like a teenager in love when he saw you.

You mentally cursed.

“Are you full?” He asked, looking at your plate of a half-eaten pancake. There was still a feast laid out in front of you which was tempting but you couldn’t help but see it as consuming more of his forbidden fruit.

You only nodded and his lips pressed into a thin line.

He was holding back, you could tell. He wanted to make sure you were fully nourished and he’d probably prefer to feed you himself.

“Eat more,” He added, “Please-”

You stood up abruptly, “I want to look for Alpine,” You made a move to leave the dining room but, as you passed his chair, he grabbed a hold of your wrist. He gripped you stronger as you tried to pull away.

“After you eat more,” He commanded.

“I’m not hungry,” Your eyes didn’t meet his eyes.

“Babydoll, can’t you see I’m trying to play nice?” He tried to hide the venom in his tone, “I could’ve bent you over my knee already for not addressing me properly. Do you want that?”

You shook your head.

“Use your words, please.”

“No.”

“No what?”

“No, I don’t want that . . . Daddy.”

When you made a move to go back to your seat, he grabbed your arm tighter, “Sit with me,” He said but his tone was softer than before. You sat down on his knee and, instinctively, his arm wrapped around your torso, holding you in place, “Relax.”

You turned your head closer to him, the familiar feeling of being in his arms led your muscles to relax. He brought pieces of fruit to your mouth and, as you opened your mouth for him, you heard, “Good girl.”

When he first wanted to do things like this with you, he told you to imagine the things you liked when you were younger. You told him that you never had a lot of toys, never got a lot of praise, and that you were always the one taking care of others, not the other way around. What he made you feel was foreign but it satisfied a need you never knew you had.

“You haven’t been eating enough,” He commented. You shrugged and he frowned a bit, “Three meals a day from now on. And snacks. And lots of water.”

“And what if I don’t, Daddy?” You challenged, more playful than you intended.

Steve gave you a look that was much too loving for you to hold his gaze, “How about, if you do, then I’ll give you a reward . . .” His voice trailed off as he thought for a moment, “What would you like?”

“I wanna go back to the city-”

Steve smirked, “Something realistic, preferably,” It took everything in you not to roll your eyes, “A new outfit? . . . A new toy? . . . I know what you want.”

“No, you don’t,” You pouted.

“Stickers,” He answered, proud when he saw you perk up, “Sparkly, butterfly ones probably.”

“I don’t-”

He interrupted your lie, tickling your side, and you tried not to smile, “You love those little things! You’d probably prefer it over a designer bag or a trip to europe.”

“They’re not expensive and I like collecting them,” You tried to explain, your voice low.

“Then that’ll be it. A week of not skipping meals will get you a special sticker for your chart, we’ll even hang it on the fridge.”

You didn’t mind the idea . . . you could have so many stickers after a long while.

“A week,” You repeated, “How long do you expect for me to stay here?”

“There’s lots to do, you won’t get bored,” He spoke dismissively, probably frustrated by your question. You opened your mouth to respond but was interrupted when the table started shaking, Steve’s phone vibrating on top of it.

“Rogers,” Steve answered, pressing the phone to his ear, “Yes, I’m aware . . you told me that you took care of him . . . I don’t need to tell you how to do your job, you’re just supposed to do it . . . he’ll listen if it comes from me . . . i’ll handle it, okay? . . . Babydoll,” He softly patted your knee, “Why don’t you go look for Alpine?”

You took that as your cue that he was about to start cursing and didn’t want you around to hear it.

An hour later, you were wandering around the garden and Steve still hadn’t tried to find you. You guessed that he was busy with his work now but you were more focused on finding Alpine. You’d search every inch of the inside of the house and now there was only one place left. You realized that you could also start thinking about a way out of this place.

“Here kitty, kitty,” Your eyebrows raised as you heard an unfamiliar voice. You wandered further along the path, trying to look through the greenery, before stumbling upon an opening with a large fountain in the middle. Alpine was walking around the top of it, frustrating the man trying to get him down from such a tall height.

He was one of Steve’s men, you could tell by the dark clothing, though you didn’t recognize him. He was much younger, and honestly, more attractive than a lot of them. You could tell the light had gone out in a lot of the people that Steve kept around. You could already tell he wasn’t like that, “Come on, dude, now you’re just messing with me!”

The cat seemed to brush him off, continuing to walk along the edge.

“You have to be more gentle than that,” You said, knowing you would startle him. It amused you a little how he seemed to jump out of his skin. His hand held over his heart, you could tell he was a bit taken aback by your appearance. You moved toward the fountain, holding your arms out for it, “C’mere, Alpine, the scary man won’t hurt you.”

His eyes were wide as the cat easily jumped into your arms, “He obviously doesn’t like me,” He said, watching as you brushed Alpine’s ears with your fingers, “And yet Bucky always puts me on cat duty.”

“Maybe Bucky is the one that doesn’t like you,” You responded.

He frowned, “Yeah, maybe you’re right,” You walked towards you, encouraging Alpine to climb into his arms. Alpine seemed to listen, welcoming his touch, “He’s never been this nice to me. Are you some kind of animal whisperer?”

You giggled a bit, “I’m Y/N.”

Peter’s mouth formed an “o” shape like he was connecting the dots in his mind, “I-I’m Peter . . . aren’t you like . . . not supposed to be out here?”

You shrugged, “I don’t know. Am I?” He seemed to panic for a moment, “I mean, I didn’t get the brief that Steve probably gave you all.”

“Right,” He nodded nervously, “Do you . . . should I walk you back to the house?”

“Actually, can you walk me to my room? I don’t think I remember where it was,” You played dumb.

“Yeah, sure,” He agreed.

Perfect. He was perfect. If there was a way out of here, he was it.

You didn’t see Steve until later that night. He was right in the fact that you didn’t get bored, there were a million things to do even in your own room. You’d floated away, your mind now completely occupied by the coloring page you were scribbling on.

As Steve sat on the side of your bed, you felt the weight of his day come down with him. Another reason he kept your arrangement before was because you provided stress relief after a long day. He touched your hair, patting your head, and you turned your head to look at him.

“Did you have lunch?” He asked and you nodded sheepishly, “Dinner?” You nodded again.

“Maria made sure I ate.”

He leaned down to press a kiss to the side of your head, “Good girl. Wanna show me what you’re working on?”

You sat up from your position, moving the picture book into his lap, “It’s me and you,” Steve couldn’t help but chuckle as he looked down at the picture of Belle and the Beast.

“You’re funny,” Steve smiled, his eyes getting those little crinkles at the side.

“Did you end up handling your business?” You asked curiously.

“I did, actually,” He responded, failing to elaborate, “And that’s all you need to know.”

You closed your book, tossing it to the side, and standing up on the bed. You walked over to the pillows and plopped down, “Don’t you think it's a little unfair to hide things? I want to hear a story before bed. Or are your stories too scary?”

You were only teasing him but as he turned over, crawling towards you, your heart began to race, “Did I ever tell you the story about the little girl who always ran her mouth?”

You shook your head, and Steve let you stew a moment longer before he pounced. He grabbed your ankle, pulling you down onto you back, as he climbed on top of you, “Well, she was always mad at her Daddy because he was . . . very protective. Her Daddy had to fix this, of course, he couldn’t have such a naughty little girl trying to boss him around. He didn’t punish her though, he just fucked her until she couldn’t speak.”

“I don’t like this one-” You were interrupted when his lips crashed down on yours.

You felt suffocated by him, trapped beneath his love, until you started to move your lips against his. You must’ve been just as crazy as he was for wanting this.

You gasped for air when he finally pulled away. You watched him hurriedly take off his already unbuttoned, button down, and undo his belt. You were sliding your dress sleeves off, trying to get your panties down your leg. When they were around your ankles, he tore them away, throwing them to the side.

Your lips were on his again, “Steve-” He grabbed your wrist roughly, pinning them above your head with one hand, and he grabbed your face with the other.

“Call me Daddy,” He demanded, sinking between your hips.

“Steve-” You felt a quick sting across your cheek and Steve watched a fire build in your eyes.

“Bad girl,” He sunk his hard member into you, causing your head to tilt back. He was anything but gentle, moving in and out of you with long and hard strokes, “You’re such a bad girl.”

“Tell me you want my cum,” He grunted, breathing hard against your skin, “Tell me.”

“I want your cum,” You rushed out, an orgasm already building as he maintained his pace. You missed this so much. If there was one thing, you missed. He was the first person to ever make you cum without oral sex. Before him, you didn’t even know your body could do this.

“Say it,” He continued, “Say it, little girl.”

He was going to slow down if you didn’t and that was the last thing you wanted, “I want your cum, Daddy,” You gasped out, your body convulsing beneath him, “I want it so bad, Daddy.”

He finished deep inside you, your body tightly wrapping around him, and sweat covering your bodies. You were coming down from the high when the panic set in. Why did you let him do that? And why did you want it?

He was holding you and, as your tears began to fall, he pulled you into him, “It’s okay,” He cooed, “I’ve got ya’. You’re going to be just fine, Babydoll.”

part two

#dark fic #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve x reader #steve rogers smut #peter parker x reader #steve rogers x black!reader #mafia!steve rogers #mafia!bucky #captain america x reader #mafia au #bucky barnes #sam wilson #steve rogers #peter parker #wanda maximoff #marvel smut #marvel fanfiction #dark marvel #black!reader

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