I just had the realization that literally the day after the Parthenon marbles are packed up and shipped back to Greece (as they should be), some visitor is gonna walk into the British Museum, eventually go up to an employee and ask, “Where are the Marbles?”
And after that BM employee carefully explains where and why that’s a good thing, that same visitor is going to ask some variation of: “Well, could you bring them back? I wanted to see them this trip.”
And I just feel for that museum employee so much.
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Thinking about a lot of things but mainly of how Terry Pratchett writes tiredness.
(Which means I’m mainly thinking of Sam Vimes. Which is normal.)
But he gets it so right.
The feeling behind your eyeballs. Stealing time from your future self with coffee, and, when the coffee doesn’t work anymore, going on sheer bloody mindedness because you cannot stop, you can’t. Not being sure when you last had real sleep. The strange state of mind you land in where you should absolutely not be tested because everything’s on a hair trigger, and things feel like they’re moving through treacle and your ability to make decisions feels shot to hell so you can only hope that you’re making the right choices.
Not Terry Pratchett’s words, if course, but I can’t get to my bookshelf at the moment, and, if I could, I’m not sure that I can read anymore.
I’m tired, is what I’m getting at.
And Terry Pratchett writes the whole spectrum of being human so brilliantly, but, damn, how he nails down being tired.
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MA’AM. please please please write more about subby dbf!bucky with a pain kink 😭😭😭 this literally killed me, I need to read more on how our man likes to get off on pain 😵💫 — 💫 anon
Oh God, okay, I'm going for it because I literally just fucking have to.
Having this submissive older man kneeling in front of you while you run your fingers through his hair and ask him what he needs just sounds so hot to me?
I love the thought of the hardwood floor making his knees ache, the position sapping his legs of their strength. The discomfort keeps him focused but it's not like his mind could wander anywhere more interesting than the sight of you in front of him anyway. He keeps his back straight, his hands clasped behind him and his head tilted upwards.
He needs this. He needs his focus to be on sensations that are anywhere other than his cock because he can feel it throbbing uncomfortably and his first instinct is to take care of it himself. He can't even begin to imagine what you'd do to him if he touched himself and a little spark in his brain tells him to find out. He manages to squash that thought though. It's probably for the best.
"What do you need, Bucky?" Your voice is soft and nurturing and it almost makes him feel uncomfortable supplying you with an answer that has any measure of truth behind it.
He doesn't need soft or nurturing. He needs your fingers that are so gently carding through his hair to clench into a fist. He needs you to let him give up control entirely, just for a few hours.
"I need you to take your frustration out on me." You knew that would be his request, it's the gentlest way he can think of to ask you to hurt him.
"I know, baby. I know that's what you need." You hum, letting your tone stay as light and delicate as your touch. Your hand runs over his flesh shoulder with a flat palm, making your way towards his neck. Around the half way point, you begin to dig your fingernails in. Hard.
His groan is pathetic and you can't help but fall in love with the way the muscles tense under your touch, an involuntary protection he knows he doesn't need. He's safe with you. This was all born from that sense of security after all.
"I-I need to you to take it all out on me. Pretend I'm every man who didn't deserve you. Tell me everything you've ever wanted to say to them." He gasps a little mid-sentence as your fingernails trail gently over his Adam's apple, digging in again when you reach his collarbone.
"You are worthless." You begin, stalking around him to stand at his back. "You never deserved me." You pull his hair back, hard, forcing him to look up at you. This is what does it for him. He's surrendered. He's yours. He loves it. He gets off on this.
"You were a waste of my fucking time. I should never have lowered myself to your level." Your other hand collides with his cheek, the sting of the slap only makes him sob out the most breathtaking groan. This is everything he was dreaming of and so much more.
"You never fucked me right. You were never enough for me." Your hand on his throat makes his eyes flutter shut. If he looks at you, he knows he'll lose all control. He'll cum untouched and how fucking embarrassing would that be?
The second he lets his head wander there though, it's all over. As soon as he lets himself imagine how humiliating it'd be if he came all over himself, just from being degraded and pushed around, it's all he can do. Shame burns so hot in his cheeks while his dick twitches and throbs, shooting streams of pearly cum over the wooden floor beneath him.
"Stupid little slut." You whisper, giving him another slap to the cheek and enjoying how his release seems to never stop. "Once you're done, you're cleaning up your own mess and then you're going to fuck it into me with your tongue. You'll be lucky if I ever let you inside me again."
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Day 5
Madara is running, mind trying to keep up with everything that just happened. Take a left and then a right, there’s a contact there that can help. He feels blood dripping down his arm but he has to keep going. The shouts behind him are getting louder so he takes a left instead of a right, hoping to find a place to hide for a moment and catch his breath.
He has to make it to the meeting point and get his arm checked out before his date with Leo later. If he has to cancel again over this… He’ll make it. He has to.
Madara must have bled more than he thought at first. He’s stumbling and it’s harder to breathe and he almost doesn’t notice when he runs into someone else until that familiar voice cuts through the fog.
“Mama? Mama are you okay?” Why is he here? Did he have something going on? Madara tries to turn around, find a different place to hide. He can’t talk about this right now, not with Leo. Leo grabs his hand and Madara is too weak to pull away.
“I’m fine, Leo-san.” The shouts that were following him seem to be getting quieter. They must have taken the bait. He relaxes just a little bit. “I have somewhere I need to--” He collapses before he can finish, everything goes blurry and he has to force himself to focus on Leo’s voice. He can tell that someone’s speaking but he can’t tell if it's himself or Leo. Stay awake stay awake stay awake.
He feels his lips moving and he’s trying to say something while Leo is on the phone and applying pressure to Madara’s arm. Please don’t leave. I love you I love you I love you. Leo places a hand on his face and forces Madara to look up at him. Leo is saying something but Madara can’t hear it. I’m sorry you had to see me like this. Leo looks stressed. Madara caused this. He needs to leave before he makes it worse but Leo pushes him down when he tries to stand. His arm is throbbing.
Someone hands Leo a bottle which Leo then puts to Madara’s lips, cool water quenching a thirst he didn’t realize he had. His head clears just a little bit and he can hear Leo finally. Stay with me Mama, please stay awake. I love you too.
There’s more talking and Leo is pulled away while the emergency responders put Madara on a stretcher and put him in the ambulance. He tries to grab Leo, get them to let him into the ambulance as well, but they just strap his arm to his side and begin to assess the damage.
Madara wakes up in the hospital, Leo sitting in the chair next to his bed. Leo tackles him in a hug before he can say anything and the nurses are running in to check on his vitals. He’ll be okay but he won’t be released until tomorrow.
“I’m sorry, Leo-san. I really wanted--”
“What’s going on? Don’t lie to me.” Leo’s voice cracks.
“I was… trying to protect you. There are a lot of people who want to hurt you and I can’t…”
“I can make my own decisions, Mama.”
Madara doesn’t speak. He opens his mouth but any words he could say die on his lips.
“I know you want to protect me but I don’t want you to get hurt because of me either.”
“I know.”
There’s silence and Madara is afraid Leo might finally break things off. His cheeks are wet and he refuses to look at Leo. Instead, Leo grabs his hand and squeezes it.
“I love you. I don’t want to see you hurting.”
He was much more serious than the Leo Madara knew and loved. He couldn’t bear to see Leo hurting either, especially if he was the cause.
Madara squeezed Leo’s hand and made a silent promise that he’d be more careful from now on. Something had to change and continuing to get hurt like this wasn’t helping anyone. Maybe someday they could be happy together with nothing to worry about, but he would have to work to make that happen.
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