#use them all as tools that can be bent and broken if it means they get the eggs back. he'll do it to himself too

[mishapen-dear]

thinking about 4halo again and dying

they just. they used to be so sweet together. and then the election arc managed to genuinely turn them against each other (and bad is still affected by being caged in the museum) and i would NOT have been surprised if a rebellion had started within the next few weeks after their last fight and. they used to be friends and then they almost destroyed each other

and then the eggs went missing

and there are so many parallels between them, but one of the biggest parallels is how they're both protectors. they both protected the eggs (and, when he became president, forever extended that protection to the other islanders) but the eggs went missing and they had to put all of that aside. Forever was quicker to put it down than Bad was (it felt like only a very temporary truce, from Bad's end), but they put their problems on hold, because their eggs. were gone.

and another parallel. the destruction. both of them with their plans to cause ruin because then, maybe, theyll get their kids back. bad caused most of the grieving arc damage directly, and got aypierre and antoine to help him. he dug holes in the ground. he placed mines everywhere and leapt into them. he started the lavacasting process of the fed building (and was interrupted by admins, so he stopped, but philza and fit were still right to laugh at him lmaoo). he drilled a hole through the side of the federation office from a huge distance away. he has chosen to hurt his friends and himself to get the eggs back. whatever the cost.

forever destroyed the island. or he planned to destroy the island. or he was interrupted just before he destroyed the island or or or. I don't know. but it was big, and it was bad. bad enough that the feds had to step in and forcefully drug him, and kickstart the happy pills arc.

and the happy pills arc..... oughghghgh as fucking awful as it was for their characters to experience i genuinely truly think that it saved them from each other. when he was first told about forever being fucked up bad was still in the "i need to kick his butt" mindset, and was all ready for an excuse to kill forever. and then he saw forever. and the first proposal happened. and bad was angry and he was sad and upset and he was careful. forever tried to kill him. bad decided to save him. forever kept trying to marry him. forever kept taking the pills. forever was so scared of his own anger and all of the damage he could and would have caused to his family that he kept taking drugs that kept him so out of his mind he hallucinated his son was just sleeping safely at his house.

and they both tried to kill each other. and they both failed.

and bad showed phil and cellbit (and tubbo) the item scanner that dapper discovered, which could destroy him, because nothing else was working. because they needed to save forever. because bad was reminded by then that forever was a victim of the federation instead of just a mouthpiece for it. and then when forever woke up he saw bad, suffering, and so excited to see him awake.

and now they're here on opposite sides again with forever projecting his protection urges onto the fed worker in bad's basement and bad frustrated that he isn't being believed and his evil plans of giving ron lemons apology brownies is being interrupted and. look at them. soft "i hate you" and the appreciation room and bad's quiet heartbreak when he learned about forever being missing and the "i miss you" book bad got mad at because it asked him not to torture fed workers. does anyone hear me im so ill about them. do you understand they care about each other so much and the happy pills arc reminded them of that. forever realized bad is colourblind and bad assumed forever was poisoning him and then forever helped bad cheat on another colourblindness test and forever was giving bad flowers and bad was accepting them and accepted that he was colourblind despite his previously constant denial and! i don't know if im being comprehensible and i dont really care i will be honest i just need you to know i am frothing at the mouth like a rabid little beast. they are a TRAGEDY of miscommunication and external pressure but they love so so much. platonic or romantic or qpp they CARE and it tears me to shreds

#qsmp #4halo #i feel like ive talked about this exact thing like three separate times but #its one of those things that really Kills Me #and its CRUCIAL to understanding them and their relationship #they were fighting and now have found peace in hell #and forever using his care for bad as a distraction to not focus on his Own woes #and the way he's so sure bad needs help the way he was helped that at heart bad is a good person who doesnt want to be hurting people #and in a Way he's right. bad doesn't want to hurt his loved ones. everyone else? yeah. in a heartbeat. but his family... #but he's still makign the choice to do it. it's not lashign out in desperation the way forever destroying the island was #bad is hurting people with Purpose. he's putting thought into it. he's testing people and their knowledge and their motivations and he will #use them all as tools that can be bent and broken if it means they get the eggs back. he'll do it to himself too #especially to himself #ghhhgrhrgh the way theyre both self sacrificial and self destructive the Parallels the fucking parallels #i can best examine their relationship from a bbh pov and it agonizes me because i can't get all the nuance of forever's pov #because i dont speak portuguese yet :c #so best i can do is talk crazy about them like a Lure for other analyst shippers #pspspssps dont you see my ship. dont you see how canon 4halo is !!! in 8 acts #dont you want to examine them and their parallels and the way they are both so strange about relationships but they're finding a way to car #in a way that works for them #pspspsps #like me talking about qbbh vacation arc got the fandom acknowledging his sillies and directly got me a friend to talk about him to (hi kia! #maybe it will work here also #come to the dark side we have complex relationship dynamics that are frequently misunderstood and mislabelled #YOU can help change the world

[ghouljams]

Oh dear lord, my love Ghouls are you Clio jersey?????

Womb tattoos have different meanings for each drawing, the tree like is literally a family meaning, bringer of life and blood of ancestors. I'm giggling and imagine Price literally marking witch as his future baby momma.... Oh sweet heaving... (Can't blame this man, if I was him I would turn into a carpet just for this goodness)....

But there is a trick on this tatto womb in particular, bcs of the branch and name it would turn into a Suffering (?) one. Each ovulation getting witch itching and moody without prices presence or touch. Even worse if he could smell them....

(sorry your drable has, once again, broken me into a primitive stage)

Thanks for the wonderful writing and as always, may you land only knows abundance.

💕🌹💕🌹

I don't know who that is! So I am just Ghoul!! I absolutely adore womb tattoos I think they're so cute.

Unfortunately Price's mark is temporary. He's hijacking Witch's magic and re-writing it a little to work for him, and it's a painted spell so it will fade with wear. This is where I get to talk about Witch's magic and the way it interacts with Price. Witch's magic is heavy, it's the collective weight of generations of magic, which makes it extremely powerful but she often needs to use ingredients/tools to prop it up. She's still growing into her magic, so to speak. Doing too many things with her magic in one spell means more struts, more pillars to bear the load, so for her period she usually only focuses on 1 thing: keeping her magic/blood undetectable. Which leaves her with little room to manage symptoms and a little bit of a magical hangover.

Price knows magic, he is magic, and he's strong, stronger than Witch. So he acts as Atlas, holding up the world for her. He hardly feels the burden of it. He takes the magic she's worked on herself and tells it, "If you do these things (stop cramps, regulate emotions/hormones, just make Witch feel better) then I will carry your weight, look here's my name, burden me." And to a certain extent Witch's magic(the great line of witches that made her) said, "Alright but if you're signing on to be the rungs on Witch's ladder we expect you to stick around, we expect you to help carry this magic into the next generation."

So I think it absolutely struck Price when he saw the actual branches, the sigils and the signature on the dotted line of his deal, that Witch is going to be the mother of his children. It's all spelled out there in the magic wrapping around her, in the tattoo on her stomach, "John Price" added to the family tree.

And even though the mark fades with her period, you're right. She gets a little itchy the next time she's ovulating, her magic knocking on Price's door like "Hellooooo, you said you'd carry this burden so get to it, chop chop." Which really just leaves Witch a mess unable to think about anything proper and dripping while she tries to work. She has to take a week off. It doesn't help that as soon as Price smells her he gets a little.... off his head. He really tries to be a gentleman, but when Witch presses a little too close she gets bent over the nearest surface so Price can do his job.

#ghoul speaks #x oc #cod x oc #john price x oc #john price mw2 #captain john price #john price #f!oc #john price x f!oc #oc: witch #captain price cod #captain price mw2 #captain pric #1fae1 #fae!price #I think all bonded fae go feral when their partner is uh.... fertile #they're animals your honor #same with periods though I think bonded fae just go feral when their afab partners leak

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

You asked for prompts! How about Stede noticing Ed’s pearl necklace and maybe telling him how pretty he looks wearing it? Or maybe it breaks and Stede fixes it for him? Either way some excuse for Stede put it around Ed’s neck and kiss his neck or WANT to kiss his neck while he does it? Basically neck kisses or yearning please!

Yes! Yessss! Neck kisses >>>>

Send me a prompt and I'll write a 1k word fic!

--

“Oh, shit. Fuck. Shitdamn.”

Ed’s frustrated voice filtered in through the open kitchen window - that was what Stede was calling the hole in the kitchen wall they hadn’t gotten around to patching up yet - and Stede looked up from where he was trying to figure out how to debone a fish. Turned out the little fuckers had a lot of bones, and just all over the place, really.

“Ed? You alright?”

Beat.

“Uh, yeah, all good!”

Ed’s tone had been overly cheerful, in the exact way it always was when Stede knew all was most certainly not good. He’d definitely sounded upset, but he was usually pretty good at letting Stede know if he’d just accidentally hammered a finger or miscalculated something, so it had to be something more serious, then. Stede quickly washed his hands, deciding to leave the fish for later, and hurried outside to check on his boyfriend.

Ed had said he was going to be working on reinforcing the front steps, after Stede accidentally stuck his foot straight through the boards a few nights ago. What he was actually doing was sitting on the broken step, looking down at something in his hands, his shoulders very tense and his lips pursed like he was trying not to cry.

“Ed?” Stede slid down next to him on the step, and Ed quickly clenched his hand into a fist to hide what he’d been looking at. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Ed sighed, his voice small and creaky. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid if you’re upset.”

His heart broke a little, as Ed’s lip wobbled, but he didn’t force it. If he was just quiet, and calm, and gave Ed time, then soon enough-

“I was taking my jacket off,” Ed started to explain, “and my necklace got caught on one of the buttons. I didn’t mean to pull it - I think I broke it.”

“Oh,” Stede said, quietly, and he held out his hand. “Can I take a look?”

Ed looked like he was halfway expecting Stede to yell at him, but he slowly let the necklace drop into Stede’s palm.

“These pearls are so lovely,” Stede said, trying to get the smile back on Ed’s face as he inspected the damage. It was a nice necklace, with a knot on either side of each pearl so they wouldn’t slide off the string even if it snapped, but Stede was relieved to see the clasp was just twisted open. Necklaces like this were delicate, so the damage looked worse than it actually was.

“They were lovely,” Ed corrected dully. “Until I ruined them. They were so nice, and now they’re fucked.”

“You didn’t ruin-”

“Probably for the best.” Ed rested his arms on his knees, hunching over to hide his face in his arms. “Needed to throw ‘em away anyway.”

Stede frowned. He reached out a gentle hand, hovering over Ed’s shoulder, and was relieved when Ed leaned sideways into his touch. “Why would you say that?”

Ed shrugged. “They were too nice for me. Was always gonna ruin them eventually.”

“Ed? Can you look at me?”

Stede waited until Ed raised his eyes, scrubbing at his cheeks with the back of his hand, and then he held up the necklace. “This is fixable. It’s a pretty easy fix, too! The clasp is just twisted.”

“Oh.”

“You haven’t ruined a thing,” Stede assured him. “I used to fix necklaces all the time - Mary never had the patience for it.”

Stede led Ed back inside, finding the smaller tools they kept in the kitchen and selecting a little pair of pliers. It would take a careful hand, to correct the bent metal without breaking or warping it further, and Stede wanted to do a perfect job.

“I haven’t had a necklace like that before,” Ed admitted quietly as he watched Stede work. “Too nice for me, like I said.”

Ed said it like he was trying to convince himself, and Stede scoffed.

“Ed, you put everyone else wearing a string of pearls to shame,” he promised. “You wear them well. They’re so pretty, and they look beautiful on you.”

He looked back in time to see Ed’s eyes flick shyly to the floor. “Thank you.”

Stede held the necklace up to the light, making sure the clasp looked perfect. “All done,” he declared, holding it out for Ed to see. “May I?”

“You may,” Ed said, aiming for a light, teasing tone, but too obviously flattered to really pull it off.

Stede stepped behind him, gently moving his hair out of the way, and Ed shivered at Stede’s fingers brushing over his bare neck.

“There we go.” Stede gently secured the necklace, and before straightening Ed’s hair back into place, he kissed the back of Ed’s neck. Ed hummed in delight, pressing back into his touches, and Stede pressed kiss after soft, loving kiss to the side of Ed’s neck, from his jaw down to his collarbone. “So pretty.”

Ed leaned back into Stede’s arms, sighing happily as Stede dropped a hand to his waist, holding him there. “Can you call me that again?”

“You’re so pretty, Ed,” Stede said, kissing the sensitive skin at the base of Ed’s neck, right where the string of pearls lay. “You deserve to wear whatever you want.”

“I thought you liked me best with nothing on at all,” Ed teased, pressing back into him.

Stede hooked his chin over Ed’s shoulder. “Well, the pearls are a close second.”

He hoped, someday, Ed would know that he could have the nice thing he’d always wanted but had been too scared to enjoy, and understand he wasn’t doomed to break them. He hoped Ed knew that Stede would support him, and help him find the fine things he wanted to wear, clothes and accessories that made him feel good and pretty and like himself.

But, for now, Ed had this lovely string of pearls, and it was a fine thing he knew he could keep.

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd fic #my fics

[kinocomix]

devlog 18: doo dads, inventories and recycling like responsible authors.

The script for TSTW is 17 scenes long so far, still in progress. I estimate it will be around 30 to 40, which is a welcome change given that my last comic was around 110. with that in mind…

would you believe me if i said i spent an entire day looking for an extremely specific book that i used to own- well two actually now that i think about it. I didn’t find them. One of them was a book with a bunch of electronic crafts for kids, the other was this book where you’re supposed to tear the pages to make everything from a chessboard to a cup. Not important, the point is Brandon Sanderson said something very insightful about writing characters that are smarter than you: being smart, often, is a matter of how much time you have to solve a problem. We consider someone as being smart when they very quickly have a good answer to a given question. The reason I was looking for two random ass books I owned as a kid is because I have the time to figure out how the kids are going to channel their inner bear grylls to improvise, adapt, overcome. they do not.

today, we’re going to be figuring out what we can realistically get away with as far as child inventions go, as well as talking about how as artists, reusing work is normal and shouldn’t be something to be ashamed of.

So first things first: what do the kids in our story have access to? this was the easiest to figure out because I know what living situations most of them experience, so here’s a list:

killouette: stationary and a camera. I’m still unsure which time period the story takes place in, so it’s unsure whether or not the camera is digital. It's objectively more fun if it’s a polaroid camera, because then all her pictures are physical. This is a plus because the only person with a computer in the group is talbas. On the other hand, setting the story in the mid 2000s means she probably has a small digital camera that she could connect to a bigger screen. alternatively, if i choose to set the story in the present, she could have both. unwanted old cameras left in a drawer somewhere.

bata tete: fun craft tools (paint, glue, string, ribbons, a big pile of magazines), a basket and a printer. you can’t go wrong with paint and pictures if you’re writing a story about kids, and this is also helpful because it introduces additional things to bata tete’s character: a more artsy side to complement the mission impossible stuff. instinctively i’m thinking the strings are definitely going to serve as trip wires at some point or another, and paper mache is definitely going to be involved in some way.

falefil: a po box, a piano and an electronic voice recorder. My current headcanon for falefil is that he doesn’t really like toys, so minus getting aluminum foil from his mom’s kitchen, he can probably lend his electronic voice recorder to accomplish something. maybe a makeshift MP3 player?

zmik: toys and objects intended to be used with other kids. all unused. I’ll admit this the saddest one by a longshot but it hits home a bit too hard to not include. I remember the piles of old board games, slingshots, marbles, even -the irony- a pair of walkie talkies I had that just… sat there. I like to imagine Zmik is finally in a place where he can share these things with people he likes.

motsik: broken knick knacks, pieces of mirror, detergents, bent spoons, a lot of wooden kabab skewers. It should come as no surprise that most of what Motsik has to offer is broken to some capacity, because of his violent household. the things he brings are broken because he effectively fishes them out of the trash, figuring his friends might have something they could do with them. note: motsik could also try to make stuff himself, but given his character this would be infrequent.

talbas: her uncle has an electronic equipment store, he teaches her stuff and low key is in on some of the shenanigans the kids do. despite the neglect from her parents, talbas loves spending time with her uncle whose store is nearby. he loves the fact that she’s interested in soldering and making fun doodads, so he has a budget set aside just for her. it’s pretty obvious that talbas’ uncle is the only person tethering her to a sense of purpose and a feeling of love. 

claude: a lot of organic things and the knowledge thereof. Claude has little in the way of possessions, but she has a lot of street smarts. Claude keeps track of inventory across the 6 kids’s houses and frequently is the first to suggest solutions to problems.

with that being figured out, all we need to do to try to combine what they have with what the problem is and we see what comes out the other end. for example:

let’s say they need all hands on deck for something but that means ignoring a hallway where someone could come see what they’re doing. we know they would have access to stuff like strings, empty spools, simple electrical components and tin foil, so they could for example make a small trip wire using one of several methods i thought up:

this one is a pressure pad you can hide under a carpet that sets off a small light or beeper.

this one is a single use tripwire that would not require miles of electrical wire lol.

two things to note: the actual schematics in the book are going to look much nicer but also i’m approaching writing this book with publishing in mind, so I’m steering clear of actually dangerous things like blades and anything stronger than a small battery. which is a shame- i have a very funny story about how i personally once nearly set my building on fire trying to make a lamp when i was like 11, but that’s not the kind of stuff that will get published for middle grade/early young adult readers. I hate having to squash my book into a category like this, but if i’m to have any hope of doing what i love for the rest of my life, this feels like a necessary sacrifice. 

now, as an aside, let’s talk about something I personally do that I think might be helpful to others and I’m going to illustrate my point by sharing spoilers for a project I won't get to for another couple of years. 

Around 2014 was my very first attempt at writing something. it was a story called “Last of the Predators”, a very angsty attempt at something serious written by a version of me with no connection to the subject matter whatsoever. it had no plot outline, end in mind or clearly defined characters. Everyone spoke in the same monotone calm way and every paragraph had way too much description of the person’s emotional state. I eventually lost interest and dropped it, even deleting the blog I had been using to document the updates on. 

shortly after I started making comics, i came up with the ice cream men: a story that follows two aliens kicked off their planet who arrive on earth. In their boredom, they decide to follow the recipe for something called ice cream, inevitably bringing up a million other topics along the way. This might sound fun, but when I came up with it at the time it didn’t feel enough to justify the commitment it would require. it initially focused too much on jokes and really didn’t have much to offer in the way of depth. so i shelved the idea for a while and this is the piece of advice i have:

don’t throw ideas away, just shelve them. 

around this time is where my studies got in the way. When you’re just starting out trying to make art, everything stops you dead in your tracks. It wasn't until I started working on illustrating almost home that the creative gears started turning again. I came up with a whole bunch of things, but some of what I did is revisit my folder of abandoned projects. Sometimes when a project feels dull, it can be helpful to merge it with another one. This doesn’t always work but when it does it can lead to very interesting results.  This is what I did with the ice cream men. I took the philosophical premise of the ice cream men which suffered from an underdeveloped plot and bad setting that didn’t suit the theme, and I combined it with the idea that survived after I cut all the slack out of Last of the predators which is the following:

The world LOTP is set in suffered a cataclysmic event that killed all the animals. Humans being how they are, they quickly built a religion around this and decided that some people have “predator souls” while others have “prey souls”, even going as far as to genetically engineer the way people look to introduce animalistic features to faces and bodies. The story is very political in nature and revolves around this role reversal that happens many many years after the cataclysm… and that’s where all the bullshit comes into play that I cut out. 

As a side note, what I just told you is the polished version of the lore I rewrote for this devlog- it’s not the one I decided to settle on for the ice cream men but I'm sharing it regardless for the sake of documentation. point is: the reason this felt relevant to me is because combining this with the ice cream men added a layer of intrigue to the story which i really liked:

two aliens are kicked off their planet and arrive on a deserted planet which the reader knows is earth. In their boredom, they decide to follow the recipe for something called ice cream, inevitably discovering more about this strange planet and its past… 

That past is the yet untold story of LOTP, with a less shitty name and more consideration given to the themes and mechanics of the things at play. so effectively we have several narrative layers at play:

the ice cream thing which could be a commentary on purpose or the creative process in addition to being a fun jumping off point for comedic relief

the past of the planet which could offer some mystery to the story, and maybe encourage some more serious topics to be brought up

and a third secret one, that i’m not willing to share just yet.

which i think is a story more worth telling. Here's another example more immediately relevant to our devlog. two years ago, I was thinking about how funny it would be to have unnecessarily complicated contraptions in the kitchen. the type of stuff you see unemployed engineers do for social media instead of benefiting mankind. I asked myself how would you go about making those contraptions useful: maybe someone could benefit from them if they were for example disabled, cool. too straightforward for my liking. What if they were small? like… as small as a bug? a very small chef. 

how to cook when you’re 2 inches tall. that sounds fun i like it. What if it was a cookbook where part of the instructions were these complicated instructions on how to build and solder electronics? fun! I need a chef and an engineer to do that. I am neither. 

don’t throw ideas away, just shelve them. 

I kept thinking about that for a while. I imagined our protagonist Claude, a small hercules beetle who loves to cook. I wrote three versions of the script of a comic and even discussed making it a short animation at some point, but it didn’t feel right. it’s not the vision. It needs to be a cookbook.

queue Killouette and the fact that I’m really annoyed at how the camera can see everything. I remembered the idea I had with the cookbook, so I thought why not borrow some of that and make it a diary?  Let’s add Claude in there as well for good measure. Maybe then how to cook when you’re 2 inches tall can be the one that comes after Killouette if I’m lucky enough to get funding. A grown Claude who made it big as a cook. By combining the two projects into two parts of the same series, I fixed the problem I had with the camera and added continuity to two otherwise one off projects. 

So maybe that’s something to keep in mind. don’t throw away ideas, shelve them instead. 

Next week we’ll be looking into the supplementary children’s book attached to killouette.

devlog updates on tuesdays. 

#comic #webcomic #kinocomix #devlog #graphic novel #journal comic #writing

[ravynfyre]

O RLY?

so yeah, much of this is paraphrased, because I didn't care enough to commit the exact words to memory, but this should be a faithful enough rendition of That Asshole And His Wife Who Tried To Get A Payday Out Of Me Fraudulently.

went down to the food bank tonight, and while I was getting loaded up, some guy stalked up and accused me of backing my truck into his wife's car, who was right behind me. I was pretty sure that I had NOT done that, as 1) I hadn't felt a thing (although, my truck is large, so that didn't really mean anything), but more importantly, 2) I was watching very carefully in my back up camera to make sure that I DID NOT DO THAT because I was being hurried by traffic in the street. I stopped an inch from her car and pulled forward, never making contact. But, what do I know. I was only watching through a camera, something I have done for 11 years now, so gods know I could have fucked up. (that's sarcasm, btw)

So he takes me back to his wife's car and yells to her, "where'd she hit you, honey?" (Because this woman had apparently called her husband to come and "deal with me" while I was in the food bank) Woman says, "Up front. License plate, I think". We look, and yeah, there's a dent in her plate. And at some point, there was a chromed plastic plate frame around the plate, but there's only one piece still bolted to the plate, and he starts swearing about "all the damage". Guy looks at me and says, "So you were at the food bank. Bet you don't even have insurance, do you?"

Uh, that's a shitty thing to say, fuck you. Classist fucker. "No, I have insurance. So what would you like me to do about her bent license plate? You want to turn her plate into the insurance?" "Well, yes! Look at all the damage! Frame's busted and everything."

....the damage? "What... what damage? It's a bent license plate. I mean, I'll get my info for you, That's fine, but, seriously, it's a bent license plate, and a broken plastic dealership advertisement." And I walk away to get my info out. When I come back, he's pulled the one piece of the plastic frame off... and something occurs to me.

"So, here's my info, " I say, offering him my insurance card. "But... if I did this, where's the rest of the license plate frame? There's no pieces on the ground. Did she pick them up already?

And he stares up at me like a deer in headlights. "Uh... yeah, nevermind. It's nothing. There's no damage to the car, and all I have to do is bend the license plate back into shape."

"Oh, well, I have a hammer in my toolbox. I can fix it for you right here." "Oh, well... I'll use your hammer then," and he does, then asks me for a screwdriver to remount the now-flat plate. "But, you should remove the ball hitch from your truck so you don't hit anyone else!"

Yeah, whatever you lying sack of shit. I wish those back up cams actually buffered their footage into my stereo system memory, so I could check the footage of me NOT HITTING YOUR LYING BITCH OF A WIFE. But, no, I just smiled and thanked him for his time, and left to go home after putting my tools away. Like. wtf.

#one of many reasons i hate people and hate leaving my farm

[destinyimage]

Activate the Miracle Realm: #1 Reason Most Believers Don’t See Miracles

You will witness more miracles in the next twelve months than you have seen in the past twelve years, and these may not be limited to church settings.

Through the power of God released from your hands, you will witness so many miracles that you might forget to celebrate them all. People will seek you out for prayers, ask you to visit them, call you on the phone, and even wait for you at your house. Once the news of your miracle-working abilities spreads, be prepared for an influx of people seeking your help.

Not the Way It Was Meant to Be

If you turn on any cable news network, you will quickly see many issues, including wars, famine, corruption, poverty, and injustice. It only takes a moment to realize that humanity is grappling with the effects of thousands of years of generational iniquity and infirmity. The next time you see such headlines, say aloud, “This is not how it was meant to be.” In the beginning, God created everything, and it was good. The Hebrew word for good is towb, which means “perfect in functional design and aesthetic beauty” (Strong’s H2896). Everything was towb! But after the fall of man in Genesis 3, everything became fractured in beauty and design. Creation shifted from God’s blessing to a curse, meaning it must survive at all costs.

Interestingly enough, Charles Darwin derived his theory of evolution from this observation, seeing how all created things had to fight for their survival. He believed that if forced to do so, creation would adapt, evolve, and fight to survive against natural conditions and predators, or it would become extinct. Darwin’s initial observation was correct, but it could have been understood more thoroughly through the lens of Genesis 3.

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With the fall and corruption of creation came an inherent expectation of death, and naturally, the fear of it followed. This fear is seen through humanity’s unwise choices. If people deny the existence of God and the idea of divine accountability, their selfishness and survival instinct will lead them into all manner of evil. The Bible refers to this as iniquity, defined as the internal bent within humanity to do wrong. Infirmity refers to both mental and physical weakness.

Your Activation Begins with Honesty

The impact of generational iniquity and infirmity has affected all of us. Although we may want to focus on something other than the disappointing aspects of our lives, that is precisely where our journey to activating miracles must begin. Honesty is essential to gaining true empowerment in the area of the miraculous because sickness and disease affect everyone. People must possess the necessary tools to process their losses.

I want to ask you some questions, and I urge you to take a moment to answer them honestly. You may even want to record your responses in your journal. Suppose you have struggled with healing and miracles and have yet to experience this spiritual gift in your own life. In that case, these questions may provide valuable insight to help you overcome any obstacles hindering your progress. Please answer these questions with brutal honesty. It is a personal reflection between you and the Lord, and He can handle your uncensored brokenness.

How have sickness and disease impacted your life?

In what ways have sickness and disease affected your identity and self-image? Have you adopted any identity statements related to a disease, such as “I am a diabetic” or “I am a cancer survivor”?

How has iniquity (sin) shaped your identity and self-image? Have you adopted any identity statements related to addiction, such as “I am an alcoholic” or “I am a sex addict”?

How has death and loss impacted your life?

How have death and loss impacted your belief in God?

Have you ever believed in healing and been disappointed? If so, how did that disappointment affect your belief in healing?

Have you ever prayed for someone’s resurrection and been disappointed? If so, how did that disappointment affect your belief in God’s character and nature as good and faithful?

How has suicide impacted your life? Did guilt and condemnation affect you?

In what ways are you still wrestling with any of the above factors?

Io the Brokenhearted

If you are currently experiencing a season of painful loss and are struggling to understand where God fits in, take comfort in Psalm 51:17, as translated by Brian Simmons in The Passion Translation: “The fountain of your pleasure is found in the sacrifice of my shattered heart before you. You will not despise my tenderness as I bow down humbly at your feet.”

This verse reveals God’s character and willingness to draw near to brokenhearted people. It’s common to feel lonely, abandoned, and vulnerable during pain, but remember that your pain is not offensive or intimidating to God. He longs to reveal His love and care for you in your brokenness.

When broken, you can either push people away or allow your tenderness to lead you into a vulnerability where you can heal and grow. The enemy will try to exploit your brokenness, but you can protect your soul against judgments by asking the Lord to help you keep your heart soft.

In 2 Corinthians 12:9-10, Paul reminds us that God’s grace is sufficient for us, and His power is made perfect in our weakness. We don’t need to have everything together when we come to Him. Our honesty about what we lack creates a supernatural magnet for His power.

To the brokenhearted, I encourage you to run to God with your open and broken heart. He promises that He will never reject or despise you for your brokenness. Remember that God’s love for you is everlasting, and He promises to be with you in your pain.

If you’re in a season of pain and loss, pray with me:

Heavenly Father, I come before You now, approaching You with boldness, humility, and a broken heart. I need You now more than ever. I need the kind of love and affection that can only come from a true and perfect Father. By faith, I declare Your powerful, tangible, and unwavering presence. I know I am not alone, and You are always near me. I love You now and always. Amen.

The Number-One Reason Why Most Believers Do Not See Miracles

Usually, when equipping people to walk in miracles, we build their faith by recalling numerous examples of healing. The idea is to create such a compelling case with powerful testimonies that the spirit of doubt will have no choice but to shrivel up and die.

However, doubt is only sometimes the root cause of why most people don’t walk in miracles. While doubt is undoubtedly an issue, it’s not necessarily the underlying problem. That’s why we began the chapter the way we did. We need to address the effects and subconscious theology framed by lingering disappointment.

Imagine breaking your arm and not seeking medical attention to have the bone set and secured. The outcome will be that the bone will not heal correctly and the arm will eventually become permanently disfigured. Although the arm may heal, it won’t heal as intended. It will lose its functionality and won’t be able to perform its original purpose.

The same principle applies when we try to achieve emotional healing without the truth. We may move on from our past, but we will lose our supernatural ability to function in alignment with God’s word. Instead, when faced with injustice, sin, sickness, or disease, we will position ourselves to avoid getting hurt again. We will adjust our theology in a way that allows us to merely survive.

Disappointment is often the root cause of why most believers don’t experience miracles. When your soul isn’t aligned with the truth of God’s word, your mind, will, and emotions will heal distortedly, preventing you from functioning supernaturally.

The good news is that if you can humbly and honestly confront the disappointment and acknowledge how it has affected your faith, God can readily provide you with the grace and power to overcome it. Whether you were let down by a lack of healing or experienced loss due to a broken relationship, missed opportunity, or unfulfilled expectations, the enemy will always try to use disappointment to overwhelm you with feelings of discouragement, hurt, and uncertainty about the future.

Once you recognize that these emotions are just feelings and not rooted in truth, it’s as though God turns on the light switch. We can shift these emotions by making light of them. My goal is to assist you in minimizing the impact of disappointment, so you can be strengthened by God’s grace to reclaim your authority.

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[marsmarvel02]

"What Manny Can't Fix" Review: Chapter 4

Welcome back and welcome again to my review/riffing (riffview?) of "What Manny Can't Fix", a really bad Handy Manny fanfic!

Today, we're covering Chapter 4. If you'd like to start reading my review from the beginning, Chapter 1 is here.

Chapter 4

The trio of tools headed over. 

The hacksaw had a broken red handle, and was missing most of the teeth on his saw. 

On his blade, you mean.

The Phillips head was a mustard yellow with a band of dark blue around her, and her blade completely bent to the left.

Isn’t it interesting how saws and screwdrivers both have “blades”, which are completely different parts of them?

No? Just me?

The paintbrush was an average looking builder paintbrush, unlike the other two she looked brand new, and not damaged in any way. There were still bits of cling wrap wrapped around her bristles as well.

The screwdriver went over to him first. “Hablas español?” [“Do you speak Spanish?”]

I’d almost forgotten that there was supposed to be Spanish in this. 

“Oh uh...Si...a little...I mean...un poquito [a little]...that’s right, right?” Turner asked.

“Do you speak English?” She asked next.

“Yeah…I’m a lot better at that…” Turner replied.

“I thought so.” She laughed slightly.

“You okay, kid?” The hacksaw asked.

“Who are you calling kid?” Turner asked.

The hacksaw laughed. “You still seem pretty new, you’ve still got a shiny coat of paint.”

The dialogue in this used to be “unspectacular but not atrocious either”, but lately it’s just been going down the tubes. 

Turner glared a bit.

“A bit?” You either glare or you don’t.

“What are you doing out here anyways?” The hacksaw asked. “We don’t see a lot of other tools out here.”

“I was doing a repair and uh….kinda sorta...got left behind…”

“Oh, so you were abandoned too, eh?” The hacksaw chuckled. 

“Hey!” Turner snapped. “I was not abandoned!”

“Then why are you out here, alone, at night?”

Hey, there was a part like this in a TBLT fanfic… I think.

“I already told you! I accidentally got left behind!”

The hacksaw got closer. “You really think if your owner cared about you, he’d let you be left behind.”

“Well uh...I...I mean…”

“And I’m guessing he didn’t even come back for you?”

“...No…” Turner sighed.

“Just as I thought.” The hacksaw said, wrapping his blade around Turner’s back. “Don’t be sad, kid. The owner life isn't as great as you think. It’s much better being your own tool than being held back by a human.”

“I guess I never thought about it before…” Turner said, looking away.

“Why don’t you stay with us, kid?” The hacksaw asked. “We look out for each other.”

“I...I...I don’t know…” Turner said, anxiously.

“Where else would you go?” The hacksaw asked.

Turner paused for a moment.

“That’s what I thought.” The hacksaw laughed. “Just stay with us kid, it’s a lot better than being out here all alone.”

“Si.” Said the Phillipshead screwdriver. “And you don’t seem like the kind of tool who could make it on their own out here.” She added with a smirk.

“I could too!” Turner protested.

“Sure you could….” She teased, hopping over to him. “Until you run into another bat.”

Turner winced a bit and backed away from her.

“Come on, we ain’t so bad.” The hacksaw said. “If you stick around with us, you’ll be safe.”

Turner let out a hesitant sigh. “Fine...I guess I can stay with you…for a while…”

“Welcome to the gang, kid!” The hacksaw proclaimed. “I’m Teeth!”

How creative.

“I’m Twist.” The Phillipshead said.

“And I’m Swift!” Said the paintbrush.

Why… is a paintbrush… named “Swift”?

“I’m Turner….why are you guys out here anyways?”

“I was a woodworker’s saw.”-

Um, hacksaws are for cutting metal.

-Teeth said. “After one project too many my handle chipped and some of the teeth of my blade wore out.”-

Hacksaw blades are replaceable. They have to be, since cutting metal dulls blades quickly and it would be wasteful to have to throw out the whole tool once that happened.

-”He wanted to replace me, so I left before he could shove me into the scrap metal bin….but not before I gave him a nasty cut on the hand!”

Paging Stephen Kozeniewski… paging Stephen Kozeniewski… 

(Will anyone get this joke?)

He let out a laugh that brought a similar shiver to Turner like The Queen’s voice had.

Don’t remind me of that!

“My little brother”-

Who is very definitely not going to turn out to be Felipe.

-”and I worked together doing bike repairs.” Twist said. “One day, too much weight was put on my blade and it snapped to the left….so I got out before I could be thrown away. I met Teeth and he let me stay with him. I’m sure my brother’s glad I’m gone...now he can be the star screwdriver...just like he always wanted.”

Swift approached Turner. “I was in a hardware shop for years .”-

And here we have another element that doesn’t make sense since the humans know the tools are alive.

-“No one even looked my way, so I decided I didn’t want to stay there anymore. So when it was closing time I sneaked out,-

SNUCK out!

-and ran into these two. I’m a lot happier out here than I was sitting in there.”

“See, you’re no different than us.” Teeth said, wrapping his blade against Turner again. “Humans did you wrong too.”

“I...I mean...I guess…” Turner said, frowning slightly. “..but...Mr Grover…”

“Humans are trash, amigo.”-

Do I actually need to translate “amigo”? I’m pretty sure everyone knows that it means “friend”...

-Twist said. “They think they’re better than us….but I doubt they’d be able to do anything without us….I’d like to see one of them turn a phillips head screw into a slot…”  She looked at Turner’s blade. “....Or a flathead screw…”

Okay, that’s actually kind of a funny mental image.

“I mean...you’re right….Mr Grover couldn’t have done all those repairs without me!” Turner realized.

“And yet he was still foolish enough to forget you.” Teeth said. “Just like a human…”

“My platform has only one plank: Humans stink and they always stank!”

He turned to the other tools. “Come on, let’s show Turner our humble abode.”

Teeth lead them to four trash cans lined up together. Underneath was an old blanket and pieces of cloth.-

Wow, an environment with something resembling a description!

-Nearby was a small pile of food they had gathered, hidden behind one of the trash can lids. 

Oh yeah, I almost forgot about something I need to explain.

So, the tools in Handy Manny are not only able to eat (somehow), they actually need to eat. 

This raises about twenty gazillion questions, but I’d like to just point out one thing- the tools are never shown to produce any kind of excrement (thank GOD), which means that matter that they eat is outright erased from existence.

This has very bad implications for the universe of Handy Manny, if you stop to think about it for a second.

“Uh...nice place you got here…” Turner said hesitantly, as he looked around.

“It’s a lot better than any other place you’d be able to find on your own.” Teeth huffed out. He folded over one of the pieces of fabric. “Here, you can sleep here, kid.”

Turner hopped over and snuggled in between the pieces of fabric.

Twist hopped over. “I guess we’re compañeros de cuarto, roommates, now.” She got into the piece of fabric placed next to Turner’s.

Twist restated a term she’d just said in Spanish in English so I didn’t have to. How thoughtful of her.

“I guess so.” Turner said.

Swift and Teeth got settled in too, and one by one they started to fall asleep….except Turner.

Turner stared up at the sky, watching the stars twinkle brilliantly. I wonder if any of the others are thinking about me?

And that’s the cue for the next chapter (which you can read here) to consist entirely of Bolt, Claspy, and Mr. Grover not caring about what happened to Turner, while Plunker demonstrates that she’s the only one on the team with anything resembling compassion or a conscience.

#marsmarvel02 does a review #review #fanfiction review #bad fanfic review #handy manny #what manny can't fix review

[riverdamien]

Epiphany, 2024#

Epiphany, 2024

January 7, 2024

Matthew, 2:1-12 New Jerusalem Bible

1. After Jesus had been born at Bethlehem in Judaea during the reign of King Herod, suddenly some wise men came to Jerusalem from the east

2. asking, 'Where is the infant king of the Jews? We saw his star as it rose and have come to do him homage.'

3. When King Herod heard this he was perturbed, and so was the whole of Jerusalem.

4. He called together all the chief priests and the scribes of the people, and inquired of them where the Christ was to be born.

5. They told him, 'At Bethlehem in Judea, for this is what the prophet wrote:

6. And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, you are by no means the least among the leaders of Judah, for from you will come a leader who will shepherd my people Israel.'

7. Then Herod summoned the wise men to see him privately. He asked them the exact date on which the star had appeared

8. and sent them on to Bethlehem with the words, 'Go and find out all about the child, and when you have found him, let me know, so that I too may go and do him homage.'

9. Having listened to what the king had to say, they set out. And suddenly the star they had seen rising went forward and halted over the place where the child was.

10. The sight of the star filled them with delight,

11. and going into the house they saw the child with his mother Mary, and falling to their knees they did him homage. Then, opening their treasures, they offered him gifts of gold and frankincense and myrrh.

12. But they were given a warning in a dream not to go back to Herod, and returned to their own country by a different way.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Epiphany is a season in which we celebrate the revelation of Christ to the world, it is a joyous time!

The photo that leads off our article expresses the feeling of many about the institutional Church, and Jesus of Nazareth, bent, broken, and used as a tool of oppression. In many ways I often feel personally the same way!

I remember many years ago Hilary Clinton spoke:, "It takes a village to raise a child," And in reality it takes a village for each one of us to survive.

Today we are not surviving very well: drug use is rampant, divisions over race, politics, and economics, tear us a part. We see homeless and the deeply poor as the enemy.

Yet even through our societies connected by technology, the rule of law, and a global economy, our relationships are very much rooted in social media, and the internet, leaving us personally alone.

On Facebook  we are always have individuals look back at the fifties, sixties, seventies, eighties and nineties as times of connectedness. None of those eras were very romantic, but we did not have people centering their friendships, and for many all relationships on social media. One young woman recently posted: "All my friends and relationships are online, I do not feel like I belong in the outside world."

Often I feel very much alone, I try to relate to every person as unique, not belonging to any villages, but being open to every individual.

Our lifelong efforts to map our uniqueness do not defeat our collective connections. I am connected to different villages and they all reflect our social, cultural, national, spiritual, and generational identifications. I am out spoken about people being hurt, and I respect all of our political persuasions.

I believe with all of my heart that our call from Jesus is to love our neighbors, to house, feed, and care for each other, with out any thought of political persuasion, race, sexual orientation, or ethical stance--for each one of us is a child of God.

True love is counter-cultural because it is the conscious choice to love and to will the good of those who are deemed unlovable.

True love is cross-cultural because no one of any race, creed, color, sexual orientation, ability or disability can be excluded from it. True love is having the wide, embracing, redeeming, merciful love of Jesus!

Let us raise the Cross of the Cosmic Christ, the Universal One who is inclusive of all spiritual expressions of love!

Deo Gratias! Thanks be to God!

=============================

Fr. C. River Damien Sims, sfw, D.Min., D.S.T.

P.O. Box 642656

San Francisco, CA 94164

Snap Chat: "riodamien2"

pay pal can be found on www.temenos.org

If you are writing checks predate them for today!

415-305-2124

----------------------------------------------------

"Our life of grace and our life of the body goes on beautifully intermingled and harmonious. "All is grace," as the dying priest whispered to his friend in 'The Diary of a Country Priest." The Little Flower also said, "All is grace" (Dorothy Day).

Let Love Ache

Father, give me the courage to keep on loving.

when others keep on hurting.

help me to live an achy love, a gritty,

persistent and emptying love;

a love that’s not afraid to flow toward the other

who has little left to offer in return.

And may I tread faithfully with heaven

through the unfinished work that surrounds me.

[plumbingrepairsolutions]

How to Replace a Bathroom Faucet Handle: A DIY Guide

Tired of the worn-out faucet handles in your bathroom? Don’t worry—it’s easy to swap them out! And even if you're not exactly sure what type you need, Danco has got you covered with its range of universal replacement faucet handles. They’re like the Swiss Army knife of DIY plumbing, ready to work with almost any faucet thanks to their compatibility with Danco's handle adapters. And they're not just a perfect fit—they're also a wallet-friendly way to spruce up your bathroom! 

Danco’s universal replacement faucet handles are made from durable acrylic that's built to last. Each package comes fully loaded with a pair of handles, adapters, spacers, and even a wrench—a full toolkit ready for action to make your DIY project even easier.

A detailed guide to replacing bathroom faucet handles

This project is not only quick but also straightforward, allowing you to give the space a trendy update with your own hands.

Here is the list of tools and materials you will need for this task:

·         Flathead screwdriver

·         Phillips screwdriver

Danco’s universal replacement faucet handles 

Step 1: Remove the handle button.

Firstly, you need to take off the handle button. This can be done by gently prying it off using a flathead screwdriver. 

Step 2: Unscrew the handle. 

After removing the handle button, you will see a set screw that holds the handle in place. Use your Phillips screwdriver to unscrew this in a counterclockwise direction, which will allow you to release the handle.

Step 3: Remove the old handle.

With the set screw removed, you can now take off the old handle. Simply pull it away from the stem of the faucet.

Step 4: Install the new handle.

Next, place your new handle onto the stem where the old handle used to be.

Step 5: Secure the new handle.

Once the new handle is in place, you need to reattach the set screw. Use your Phillips screwdriver to tighten it securely. 

Step 6: Attach the new handle button.

After tightening the handle, it's time to snap the new handle button into place on the handle. Push it in until you hear it click, indicating that it's properly secured. 

Step 7: Test the new handle. 

Finally, it's important to test the new handle to make sure it's functioning correctly. Turn the water on and off a few times to check if it operates smoothly. 

By following these steps, you can effortlessly transform the aesthetic of your bathroom by simply changing your sink handles. 

Ready to give your faucet the makeover it deserves? You will find all the bathroom faucet replacement parts you need at Danco!

Aside from universal replacement faucet handles, we also have a universal faucet handle puller to help you remove a stuck faucet handle on a valve stem. This tool can be used with all handle types—hooded, cross arm, or lever—without causing any stem damage. It’s a real time-saver and easy to use, which means you'll get the job done faster and with less effort. Plus, it's designed to prevent any undesirable outcomes like bent or broken stems.

Not sure about the size of your faucet stem? Don’t sweat it. Simply use the Danco

universal handle adapter

. A set screw and an Allen wrench are included for a straightforward installation, too.

#universal handle adapter

[mississaugaautobody]

Collision Centre And Body Shop In Port Credit

There's no finer feeling than driving down the road in your shiny, newly repaired car. Drivers and walkers turning their heads to get a better look at your car as it glides past them. You put a lot of time and work into the operating of your vehicle, you want it to look the part. That's where Body Shop Mississauga and Collision Centre Port Credit comes in. From basic tune ups to full body overhauls, this shop is your one stop shop for all auto body repairs. Having an outstanding reputation is not something they take lightly over there, they service more than 100 vehicles a month and each and every one of those vehicles are given the care and professional attention they need. Body Shop Mississauga and Collision Centre Port Credit offers a wide range of services, from brake repairs to body work, they have your car or truck covered. 

Body Shop Mississauga knows that the best service starts with the best equipment. Using their state-of-the-art tools, their computers can match any paint colour to ensure your car looks brand new, like it just rolled off the assembly line. If you've recently found yourself in an collision, Body Shop Mississauga has the trucks to come pick up your car and tow it to their shop. There they will promptly get to work on your vehicle to ensure they can return it to its pre-accident condition! Whether it's repairing your bent frames, bent doors or broken windshields, Body Shop Mississauga have all the tools and know-how to get the job done in the most cost effective way for you. Just because something is damaged doesn't always mean it needs complete replacing. They will assess the harm to determine if the part can simply be repaired, saving you money while maintaining the longevity of your vehicle's life. 

Did we mention Collision Centre Port Credit can paint your vehicle and give it a brand-new appearance? You will fall back in love with your car again as it looks like new coming out of the shop. Whether its matching the original colour or changing it altogether, Collision Centre Port Credit will help to get rid of those dreadful scratches and dents in your vehicle. With a new gloss or metallic finish, your car will once again turn heads and put a smile on your face. Why wouldn't you want to visit Collision Centre Port Credit to experience it for yourself?

It's really that simple, just visit http://www.mississaugaautobody.com/ today to inquire about their services and get in touch with the friendly people at Body Shop Mississauga and Collision Centre Port Credit. There's no better feeling than restoring your car to its original, beautiful self! 

#Body Shop Mississauga

[vaovalis]

This is not a song, for what I hear in this; it is an invocation of war.

I do not hear the delusion of a proud call to victory in it. That is good. War does not create victors; it creates corpses and ruin.  

This is a song of vengeance and destruction; it is a promise of spilled blood, of ruin and of death.

I see the young woman I once was in this song’s eyes. It was not this song or these lyrics, but it was the same invocation.  

I could not heal the broken. I could not cure the sick.  

I could not give anyone justice. I could not give anyone peace.

What I could give was vengeance and death.

What I did was put my call forth to all that would ride with me, and I put that call forth primarily to those that had nothing left to lose.  They were not the only ones that joined me in my crusade, but a great many of those that joined me, followed me, fought with me and often died fighting for the dream I shared with them were not people for whom there was any justice or peace to be had anymore.

They were, most of them, people for whom hope did not exist anymore.  But they weren’t looking for hope.  They were looking for payback, for revenge and for the opportunity to at least die taking as many of the Exalted with them as they could.

Mine was not a campaign built upon fine speeches and heartwarming promises.

Mine was a campaign built out of the anger, the despair and the hatred held in the hearts of those that had lost too much and too many.

War is no place for principles, virtues and shining ideals.  They will be as anchors around your neck and stone encasing your feet.  

If you wish for peace, seek the tools of peace and make earnest use of them.

If you wish to make corpses and sew death, the tools of war are well suited to these ends.

If it is not revenge, destruction and death you mean to pursue, leave war alone.  Do something else with your life. If war is the only answer left to you?  Make war with everything you have. Lay your principles aside. Leave your virtues at the gates. Put your ideals away in a quiet place.  They will not help you in war.   Just as one must not bring the tools of war into an issue of peace, one must leave the tools of peace out of matters of war.  Neither are bettered for use of the wrong tools in eachothers’ pursuit. It is much like seeking to build and create any other thing.  Use the right tools for the job. Or leave the job to others that will not be so fraught with confusion and misgiving about who they really are and whether or not they can accept the needs of the tasks before them. Fire is not the right tool for every job, but there are some things that can never be done so correctly, so well, so efficiently and so effectively as Fire does those things. Fire won’t build your house. Fire can’t give you much by way of hope unless your hopelessness is such that a fire can help you with that somehow. War and Fire have much in common, as I learned ever so well.  They have their time and place.  When nothing else will do, don’t hold back.  When they are not the right tool, set them aside and don’t even look at them like their occasional seeming of expediency means something it never actually does. The people of this world seem so far to have very little understanding of this, and even less broad tolerance for contemplating it.    I have found no end of extremely bent thoughts about this topic on their internet, for example.  So very many people that think the tools of peace are the tools for everything, and any use of any other tool is evil and terrible and villainous and wrong.    And other people that think power is the only thing that matters and everything else is just distraction or weakness. Thus far, I’ve seen nothing compelling or insightful in this paradigm of ‘Heroes’ and ‘Villains’ that this world has such a preoccupation with.   They seem to both be two equally foolish perspectives that fail to acknowledge the realities that seem no less true here than in the world I am from. It’s a very nice thing when you can solve a problem by being reasonable, compassionate and kind.  I always thought it was lovely when I could actually resolve disputes and conflicts during my reign through dialogue and diplomatic endeavor. Some things don’t solve like that. Sometimes, a problem cannot be resolved peacefully.  Sometimes, we really do have to fight it out, and if we must resort to violence, I’m fine with Fire’s problem solving ability as well. My people learned early, quickly and well that talking, reasoning and finding resolutions through peaceful processes was always going to go better for them than the alternatives.   War between the tribes?  If there was to be violence in my Empire, I would remind them that violence wasn’t actually a lot of fun for them and that if they didn’t want to burn, maybe they needed to try that whole talking thing.   My Adjudicants and I were frequently turned to for guidance and to mediate all manner of disputes, and it really didn’t take my people long at all to figure out that their Queen was simply thrilled to help them find a solution through peaceful means if they were simply willing to talk and, all too often, to negotiate and compromise like civilized people must frequently do. It also didn’t take them long to figure out that if they preferred to try to solve their various disputes through murder, rape, enslavement and theft, that I and my Adjudicants would obliterate them.    I had very little tolerance for murder, none at all for rape or enslavement, and quite a bit for certain motivations for theft.   Thieves motivated by need were helped to not feel the need to steal anymore. I had no interest at all in punishing the hungry, the thirsty or the deprived when solving their problem was often rather easy.  Theft motivated by greed and entitlement, however? I had little tolerance for that, and I often required the thief to return what they had stolen if such were possible and then be held to a debt of ten times the value of what they had taken, owed to the aggrieved party.   General violence, my Adjudicants often left to the clans and the tribes to deal with as their various cultures and customs preferred.  I didn’t always like how this went, but the tribes and clans were part of the Empire willingly; their willingness would have faded swiftly if their customs and ways were too heavily pushed around by Imperial requirements. Politics, you know.  The good ol’ give and take that often leaves everyone at the meeting a little bit peeved with the agreed upon conclusion. Such are the tools of peace, however.  If you are endeavoring upon peace, you will apply its tools even if you find them occasionally obnoxious, troublesome, tiresome or unfulfilling.   So too much you use the tools of war when you endeavor upon war even if you find them shocking, awful and disgusting.    If you can’t do what you need to do, you’re not fit to be a ruler in peacetime or a leader in wartime.   In both times, a ruler and a leader must be one that will bear the burden of making those choices so that others do not have to do so alone. Not everyone is fit to rule or lead. Not many actually wish to.   There is no shame for them in that, but there IS a requirement I deem essential that they acknowledge what it is.   They that wish to lead and rule must make the kinds of choices others often can’t; that others will often be too twisted-up inside over their virtues and principles and ideals over, or too unwilling to submit to the requirements of politics, of diplomacy, of sacrifice and of compromise that peace demands. A good leader in war is not always going to be a good ruler in peace. I learned that firsthand. And I learned it well. I learned to be the best I could be at both.  And now I find myself in a world where I highly doubt I will be endeavoring to be either, and I get to figure out all over again what I’m going to do with myself and what the proper way of the doing shall be. It’s kind of exciting, really.   I could endeavor upon purely selfish things and indulge all of my whims to learn and study and explore without overmuch regard to the needs of the masses or the woes of the world.   I haven’t gotten to be like that at all since I was a young woman, back when my greatest problem of the season was evading my mother’s overbearing attempts at setting me up with men to marry. Whatever is yet to come for me, I’m going to be selfish and self-indulgent again for a while.  I don’t feel tired or weary, but faced with my current situation, even if I wished to be a leader and ruler again, what would I lead? What would I govern? I can barely navigate this world’s karkin’ trains.  Mayhap when I can lead my own feet where I wish to be and govern the meager space within my tiny apartment, I shall endeavor upon grander and more ambitious pursuits. But maybe I bloody well won’t.

[acmewire]

Questions About Wire Forming

As a Wire Grid Cage Manufacturing, Acme Wire is frequently asked a variety of wire-forming questions by its customers. We have provided you with a brief guide to the most common questions about wire forming to help you learn more about the process.

What Is Wire Forming Process?

Wire forming is the process of taking wire, either from a spooled coil or blank length, and bending it into specific forms. Wire forms are extremely flexible, allowing them to be modified into a wide variety of shapes and specific configurations.

Wire forms can be angled, coiled, cut, or bent in all different directions, making them ideal for customized projects. Whether formed into tiny springs for machinery parts to large chains to carry heavy objects, wire forming is useful for multiple applications.

What’s the Biggest Challenge in Making a Wire Form?

The short answer to this question is: well it depends.

Every client we encounter has unique needs. This means that any given customer may need vastly different wire forms for their particular washing and parts-handling baskets. From selecting the appropriate grade of steel, welding techniques, coatings, and specific shaping requirements for a given parts washing basket, the permutations for a washing basket’s design can be endless.

In some cases, the most difficult aspect can be getting the bend in the metal just right while making the necessary welds could be the hardest thing to do in others.

It could be said that getting the right design for a wire form to meet the needs of a specific process is the most challenging aspect of the process.

What Are the Benefits of Using Wire Forming Products?

Choosing the right wire-forming products can increase efficiency, decrease costs from damaged equipment, and reduce the chances of employee injury.

Increase Efficiency

High-quality wire-forming products can provide manufacturing facilities with the right tools to complete operations quickly and efficiently, bolstering productivity.

Decreased Costs

High-quality wire forms are manufactured to last years of repeated use without risk of breaking. Broken products result in downtime, which can increase costs and damage goods. Not only would you have to wait for a replacement, but your manufacturing downtime could extend for days – impacting your productivity. High-quality products reduce the risk of increased costs due to faulty manufacturing.

Improve Employee Safety

The right wire-forming products can help improve employee safety. Cheaper products can break, damage surrounding equipment, and injure employees. By purchasing high-quality wire-forming products, you can rely on their structural integrity to withstand released stresses.

CONTACT ACME WIRE PRODUCTS

Acme Wire Products has designed, recommended, and manufactured custom wire components for customers in many diverse markets. We offer the benefit of our almost 50 years of experience in the manufacture of component parts for hardware, medical & lab equipment, cable management, sporting goods, firearms, furniture, guarding, HVAC, pharmaceutical, automotive, optical, and food service, and processing industries.

Acme Wire’s designers work with our customers to create a wire component that will provide the greatest functional value. The design of wire products such as lever handles, supports, rings, guards, baskets, trays, grids, frames, and shelves are limited only by one’s imagination (and the limitations of technology).

Content Source: https://acmewire.com/questions-about-wire-forming/

#Wire Grid Cage Manufacturing

[mailfall9]

Car Repair: Questions Must

One of the ways that can help you get maximum benefits from the deal is noting all the usable car parts. You can create a list of these parts and present it to the buyer in order to increase their value. Most buyers will require you to present this list before they make an initial offer which you can accept or reject. If the salvage yard isn't your thing, there are other options. Often, salvage cars are sold privately by their owners. eBay can be a great tool in finding these privately-sold salvage cars. Websites like vehixx may also list salvage cars being sold privately. It is the responsibility of any car owner to make sure that the car they own is well taken care of and maintained. Good care of a car should involve using proper spares, not used ones from a junkyard. Ignoring the care and maintenance of your car puts you at risk of having accidents or having law enforcement on your case. Many of us do not pay sufficient attention to the care and maintenance of the cars that we own and drive. It is not difficult for a person to invest in a huge and luxurious car, but we will not be quick to maintain these vehicles at the expected standards. If you would disagree with this, it might mean that you take good care of your vehicle. In that case, you should be congratulated, but what about those who do not care about their cars' health?

First off, if you have a wholesaler's license, and have an active account with merchants who do sell gold, silver and gold filled metal, wire and findings, then they usually have a way for their customers to send them their scrap for either a credit for future metal buys, or will give you a check, which will usually be for less than the credit you would receive if you took the credit. Before doing anything else, you need to know what scrap gold is. Strictly defined, it's any gold that has been discarded and is suitable for reprocessing. Any leftover gold that can be smelted and reforged is scrap, such as bent, broken and tangled jewelry, casting gold, cluster rings, dental work, gold dust and flake, pins, brooches, sheet, solder, and even gold-plated chips and CPUs. Today, the practice of using gold in dentistry has become so extensive that it is becoming a fad in some communities. So if you think that you can only see gold on fingers, ears, neck and feet. You are mistaken as gold is also popularly used on teeth as dental fillers. If you hear of horror stories about the dead being excavated and their teeth taken, most probably the robbers are after the gold on the dead person's teeth. Scary, right? Truly, there are people who will do anything just to get their hands on precious metals like gold and use them to earn quick money. If you have gold fillings or you know someone with gold fillings who are interested to sell their valuable items, here are safe ways to do so. There are some advantages of replacing damaged auto parts of your car with used parts. Among various benefits, cost saving gets the top priority. If auto junkyards near me want to purchase new parts, you may have to pay double than the used parts. This is the main reason why auto owners want to purchase old parts. Sometimes, it may save half of the price of new parts. Most of the large junkyards in the area use a system called a "Hotline." If you call a junkyard and ask whether they carry a certain part, they'll check their inventory database while you're on the phone. If they don't find the part you need in their inventory, they can use their Hotline to quickly check the inventories of neighboring junkyards. A quick tip about the Hotline: ask the junkyard that is checking other yards what that particular part would have cost if they had it in their inventory. You may be able to negotiate the price with the other dealer. All you have to do is login on the internet and browse for a car salvage company that operates near you. On the company website you will find a form which you need to fill giving complete details of your vehicle in its current condition. Soon enough you will have one of the staff members from the company contacting you in order to fix a price. Different car salvage companies will offer you different prices. The fact that they operate online gives you a chance to get a quote for your car from various companies and go for the one that gives you the best price.

#autozone #car donation #donate a car #make a wish #junk #old car #buy car #sell car #auto salvage #denver #u pull it #you pull it #lkq #pull a part #pick n pull #junkyard #salvage yard #scrap yard #wrecking yard #auto parts #used auto parts #car parts #sell your car #buy junk car #junk cars

[threebysix]

Okay so, I never realized until it was said by one of my closest friend that I am thriving despite the unfair circumstances given for me.

I don’t even–I can’t even think about it, it’s in me already. I am in love with the word ‘grit’ since I stumbled on it… a pdf file inside an abandoned usb stick.

I told my friend that my PC won’t get on. And he was throttled by the thought of my situation if it were him. He would have been long gone, quitted, abandon the project until sufficiently filled by work preference.

The details ensue: I have no UTP cable (an internet wire especially designed to connect with the modem for faster speeds), I only have a defective wifi adapter. It turns off frequently, high fluctuations, long disconnections, I can’t even play a single dota/valorant game. Glady music’s with me, youtube’s buffering is quite good.

Then my PC faces ‘the blue screen of death,’ my C drive is almost full. And I almost broke my CPU (heart of the computer) due to lack of maintenance. No change of thermal paste for almost two months. The CPU literally merged with the fan that when I pulled it, the CPU came off. Can’t even get them separated without a blade cutting through the middle with a tint of alcohol.

One bent pin of the CPU, and you’re pretty much done. It is considered broken, it is broken, it wont function no more. That is how fragile it is. I never said this part though. Never announced it.

What my friend knew were my aimless complaints and tamperings, asking everyone for just a UTP, I am making this for them, they know. They know me. Everyone thanked me, they always do tell me that I owe their lives; when drunk. Words. I never asked too much. Even a glass of water makes someone a King for me.

Now, with my restless aboad for developing a website with an immaculate intent to get it functionable and to whom the users (supposedly my friends) won’t ever complain; I’m using my smart phone. I have no charger, just got broken. The timing is obvious, everything reels to something.

And to which when I prefer using my phone while my PC still functions okay, now it won’t turn on. Right after I am done rearranging, recollecting, retracing, rewriting, reviewing all the informations I took; in order, my PC won’t turn on. We even got a $7 money pool from three users. Hmmm, something is about to come down.

Let me tell you this. I never cared about my circumstances, I only see the means of attaining the result. And the world challenges you from it, if you are worthy of keeping and holding it in control: it is one of those things that will keep the world unbalance. But yes, there is always a way. “You can defeat nature by nurture with a bit of luck.” And to extend that luck is to stay all night long.

My phone is designed for what I do, I redesigned the contents, no miscellaneous unrelated stuff when the status is at work. My social media accounts has notes on how hows, solutions, tips, and life quality tools (easy versions of things that are related to web developing, rendered for begginer’s usage. Giving them a sense of profession by just following instructions.

I filled myself with codes, syntaxs, tags, logical structure, algorithms, database interaction from the frontend; making it a bridge connected to its backend, where users see and input what is required for optional navigation.

Who helped me? A few. Why the majority won’t even pay tribute to what I’m doing for us to sky rocket all together? They want to take the decision from themselves, the decision that triggers from envy. Once I got the contract of what should I really have, they will run towards me and use the word ‘friend’ to coin me out of discourse. While they laugh fully? Bare gums screeching from overt stretches? But their eyes are cold, their sight has purpose, has intent, has weight.

It pierces through familiarity, deny and see hostility. Try and be the headline, cry and be the deceiver, lie and be the suspect, show and be the feast of brutality.

And so.. why should I complain from my circumstances? To which disables my work? They are witnessing my grip, holding no matter the strains. My reasons are valid, true, concise, concrete, material based and sticks with the reality. Unlike them who constantly projects themselves in comparison with me. “Please do not try. You do not know creativity once you can’t make a calculator fron stick and stone.”

I can definitely develop a high demanded modern website through my smart phone. Eventhough people come and go in my room, just like they are cohabitating. Waking me up despite my sweey slumber, pushing me in worry for updates like it is my responsibility to have a result, also knowing my situation… I an object. I am a thing. I am not human for them, I am just a money manufacturing machine.

03:40pm Sunday, June 19 2022

[earborder13]

10 Tips For Elevator

There are no giant automobile rental agencies like price range or hertz on eleuthera, all vehicle rentals are by means of local bahamians. Find your perfect rental automobile with hertz in downtown seattle, washington. Stanton cooper eleuthera automobile rental. We have now used each stanton cooper and arthur nixon. In case you have a whole lot of gear, be sure there is room for it. Enable for the additional size of the trailer: As simple as this appears, lots of accidents are brought on by drivers merely forgetting about the additional length of their trailer and returning to their traffic lane slightly too quickly. It has little or no oxygen (0.13 p.c in comparison with 21 p.c on Earth). The East Antarctic Plateau is so cold due to excessive altitude and the snow on the surface reflects many of the solar energy back, about 90 percent or more, to the ambiance," says Muto. "Plus, you could have the polar nights throughout the winter when there isn't a photo voltaic energy at all.

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Bent, not broken 4

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; violence; injury; blood; fingering, mean Steve, watching, manipulation, poly dynamic-ish

This is a dark!fic and features the winter soldier and Captain Hydra x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: An attack leads to the uncovering of decades old secrets when you are taken by the deadliest assassin in the world

Note: Tomorrow we’ll have an Andy one shot (we’ll see if it stays that way ahah) but first enjoy this depraved pair.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The soldier pushed you ahead of him. You limped as you hugged your sore ribs, his steps echoing around you ominously. He directed you around endless corners and stopped you at a door. 

He reached around you to push it open and pointed you inside. As he came close, you once more caught a stench of the blood and dirt in his hair. You entered and he followed, the door clanging loudly. 

The bedroom was spacious and lived-in, unlike much of the immense hideaway. There was another set of tall windows looking out into the mountain passes and a large bed against the other wall. You rubbed your upper arms as you looked around and in the milieu of the room, you saw the existence of these two men, if they were still that.

You felt a tug on the back of your dress and as you glanced back at Bucky, he pulled your skirt up roughly and snapped his fingers. You stared at him as he unbuckled the holster around his shoulders and retreated. 

You watched him cross to a metal cabinet with the same censor lock as your door. He opened it and carefully placed each weapon strapped to his body inside. He closed the door harshly and glared at you as he unzipped the slanted zipper of his jacket. He shrugged out of it and tossed it over one of the ample armchairs. 

He pulled off his long-sleeved shirt and set it pointedly atop the disposed jacket. He tilted his head and neared you, curling his fingers under the straps of your dress and lifted them.

You lowered your chin and raised your arms slowly. He stripped you in a single swoop and you shivered as you stood naked before him. His breath grew gristled and deliberate as his fingertips traced the line of your collar bone then the curve of your chest and waist. He lingered on your rib cage and pressed more firmly. You flinched and he dropped his hands.

He shook his head and turned away, pointing to a door just opposite him. You followed the gesture and carefully crossed the room, peeking back at him nervously. You pushed through the door and entered the equally astounding bathroom. 

The round chamber was walled completely in glass and the plunge below made your stomach sink. A vast, round, stone tub stood central to the room, a large showerhead hung above, the floor built in a precise mosaic as an arced counter lined the left wall. It was unlike anything you’d seen before and belonged on one of those ridiculous lifestyle shows that featured houses you could never afford.

You heard a step behind you and looked over your shoulder. Bucky had removed his stained ribbed tank and his boots, his hands loosing the belt at his waist. He nodded to the tall taps and you went over to twist each and tested the temperature from the faucet as it spouted to life.

You heard the rustle of fabric and the clink of his buckle. His bare feet slapped on the floor as he neared and he nudged your hip as he stepped over the side of the tub pulled down the stopper. The stone basin began to fill as you climbed over the high wall and lowered yourself opposite him, just beside the faucet as you folded your legs.

You felt his eyes on you as he let his legs sprawl out, the tub big enough to do so. He sat forward as the water crested his thighs and grabbed your arm. He drew you over to him and you let him guide your body around and against his. He nestled you between his legs and drew your back against his hard front. He took a deep breath and bent his knees to cradle you as he reclined.

You shivered as the water grew higher and watched the foam as the falling stream met the surface. As it reached just an inch below the rim, he pointed over your shoulder and you slid forward to turn off the flow. You sat back and he slung his arms around your middle. You felt his heart beating, quickly at first, and then it slowed as the hot water lulled you.

You sat like that for a while before he gently moved you away from him. He took a cloth folded over the rack and a bottle from the shelf below. He moved toward you through the water and urged you up onto your knees. He began with a drop of the soap on the cloth and washed your neck and chest softly. He kept on, lifting you to your feet until he got every inch of you, then handed over the cloth.

You took it and unfolded it then folded it outside in. You lathered it with fresh soap and looked at his muscled chest. There were some shallow cuts along his flesh and down his arm. As you got the scars that lined the conjunction of flesh and metal, he stopped you and led your hand back to his stomach. He pushed his metal arm back as he watched you scrub away the grime on his body.

You shied away around his intimate parts but he pulled your hand back. You washed him as quickly as you could and when you were done, he took the cloth and tossed it in a wad beside the bottle of soap. He sat you back down and had you clean his sweaty hair with aromatic shampoo, little groans slipping out each time you touched his scalp.

The water was cold when at last he pulled the stopper and stood. He helped you up with a mechanical yank on your arm and guided you out of the tub. He gave you a towel and took one for himself. He pointed you back into the bedroom with two fingers and you obeyed.

He followed and went to the closet. He pulled out a navy blue tee and crossed to you. He pushed it into your hand and parted again. He dried himself and slipped into a pair of flannel pajama pants. He went to the bed and flopped onto his back with a pitiful sigh.

You glanced over as he looked at you. You patted your skin with the towel and pulled on the large tee. You left your towel with his and went to him as he sidled over on the mattress. He drew you down to lay against him and dropped his arm over your middle. You felt him inhale your scent and his hot breath grazed your scalp.

You still felt him between your legs, his rough fingers against your walls, the noise of his ravenous grunts as he tortured you. You held in a quiver and closed your eyes. For now, he was docile and that was the most you could hope for.

★

You were half-asleep when you heard the door. Bucky was snoring into your hair and didn’t rouse as you turned under his arm and peeked past him. Steve shut the door, certain to snap it into the frame so that the man beside you snorted and woke. The soldier sat up and rubbed his eyes, his hand on your leg, and he squeezed as he looked at the other man.

“Mmm,” Steve hummed as he paced along the bottom of the bed, “you smell better at least.”

He came around your side and you leaned away from him as he reached to tug at the neck of the tee. He let it go sharply and dropped his hand to his hip.

“If you wanna sleep,” he snarled over your head, “you can go right ahead but I haven’t even got a taste.”

You were jarred as Steve grabbed the back of your neck and forced you onto your knees. He pushed you down onto your face as your legs were caught beneath you. He slapped your ass hard and you cried out. The bed jostled and you glanced back as far as you could as Bucky clung to Steve’s wrist and kept him from doing it again.

“What did you think would happen when you took her, soldat?” Steve hissed dryly, “hmm? You think I wouldn’t figure it out? That I wouldn’t want to share?”

Steve kept you pinned as he remained in a deadlock with the metal arm. You whimpered as he squeezed and sent a pang down your spine. You reached back to grasp his wrist and kicked your feet.

“Fine, you want her, you get her,” Steve retracted his hand and yanked away from Bucky, “go ahead and fuck her already.” You shakily lifted yourself on your arms as you sensed the intense gaze above you. Steve pushed you back down and barked, “no, just like that.” He rapped his knuckles on your skull before he stepped back, “get behind her and let her feel who you really are.”

“Please,” you begged, “I… he doesn’t want to.”

You looked at Bucky, his jaw ticked as his eyes sparked. He swallowed through his tight throat and you turned back to Steve as he cracked his knuckles and drew a chair up and sat. He put his feet up on the end of the bed and crossed one leg over the other.

“Is that what you think? You think he cares about you?” Steve leaned his head against his fingers, “he’s just a machine. A tool. He doesn’t think, he only wants and takes.” He pushed his head back and let his arm straighten, “I almost think it wasn’t an accident, just an excuse.”

You tried to push yourself up again and Bucky shoved your shoulder back down. He grabbed one wrist and then the other and pulled them behind your back. He locked them in one hand and his other rippled the fabric of the tee shirt.

“I’m right, huh?” Steve taunted, “this is what you wanted all along. Her tight little cunt.”

“Please,” you whispered as struggled, “please, you can stop him--”

“Who said I wanted to?” Steve snarled, “he’s right, this thing between us has gotten a bit dull so why not try something new?”

You sniffed as tears pricked and you pushed your head up as far as you could. You looked over your shoulder and wriggled as you tried to free your wrists.

“Please, Bucky, please, I know that there’s someone still in there,” you begged, “I know it. You saved me. Maybe you hurt me but you helped me too. If you’d left me, I would’ve died--”

“Yes, you would’ve,” Steve snickered, “and you should be wishing you had. Soldat, I wanna hear her scream.”

You gasped in fear as the captain’s icy eyes bore into yours. There was not a mortal in there, only some unloving monster. Bucky tore your shirt up and it split along the middle to the neck. You reached to the end of the mattress and tried to drag yourself away. Steve hit your hands with his heels so that you retracted them with a whimper.

“Please, no,” you sobbed as Bucky gripped your hips and hauled you back against him, “don’t… this isn’t you, I know it, I know it. You don’t want to hurt me, I saw it--”

Your voice turned to a wisp as he shoved two metal fingers deep in your cunt. You whined and quivered around him as he curled them against the rough patch along the front of your walls. He wiggled his hand until the pressure swelled at his fingertips and you muffled your pathetic mewls in the blankets.

“Y- y- you…” you looked up at Steve and wiped your face as Bucky tore his fingers out of you, “you’re evil.”

“Yeah,” he smirked and ran his fingers along his lips, “I think that’s obvious.”

You turned your face down and bent your arms around your head. You felt Bucky shift behind you and the fabric brush against your thighs as he pushed his pants down. He leaned against you and led his tip between your cheeks. You sucked in air and braced yourself as he lined himself up with your entrance.

He slid his tip into you and you exhaled. You clawed the blanket as he slowly impaled you, your lungs empty and painful as he came to his limit. Your walls stretched around him in agony and you bit down on a wrinkle in the duvet and groaned.

“Oh, aren’t you being so sweet, Buck?” Steve sneered, “hmmm, she’s drooling, huh?”

You lifted your head and blinked at him with a scowl. You flicked your lashes through your tears and your nostrils flared in disgust.

“She’s so quiet,” Steve held your glare and cupped his ear, “I’m waiting.”

Bucky pulled back and snapped his hips against your ass. You hissed through your teeth as a wave of pain rolled up your back and scoured your hips. You lifted yourself on your arms as your eyes clung to the captain’s and you clenched your jaw as the soldier thrust again. You huffed through your nose as your arms quaked with each cruel tilt.

“Harder,” Steve ordered as his grin fell.

Bucky obeyed and slammed into you so hard, your legs tingled and your pelvis felt as if it would crack. You moaned and gritted your teeth. He held you steady as he pounded into you, flesh clapping loudly as stifled grunts escaped him. You grimaced as your eyes wetted and the tears trickled down your nose.

“More,” Steve stood and walked along the bottom of the bed as he looked you over, “faster.

Again, his demand was met fervently. You keened and grasped the blankets as the whole bed shook with the frantic fucking. You hung your head as your voice droned from you in a barely muffled whine. You shook your head as you were blinded by your tears and you sniffed as the pain overflowed and drowned out any hint of pleasure.

You gulped as Bucky bent over you, his sweaty torso to your back and snaked his arm around you. He pulled you with him as he sat back on his heels and moved you in his lap, lifting you only to crash your body back down so that your ribs throbbed with each descent. You latched onto his wrist and touched his stomach as you tried to slow him.

“Let it out,” Steve said as he put a knee on the bed, “almost there… this can be over, all you have to do is scream. I know you want to.”

“Why?” you rasped thinly as your nails dug into Bucky’s arm.

“Ask him, I’m sure you’ll get an answer,” Steve got closer and framed your hips with his hand, pushing you down hard with his hands around Bucky’s, “that’s it.”

You exclaimed as the sheer agony rippled through you and you flung a hand out to slap Steve. You missed and hit his shoulder instead. He grabbed your wrists and pulled them above you, holding your arms up as his eyes trailed down and he watched Bucky guide your motion.

“Not inside her,” Steve warned as the grunts grew louder, “we don’t need that shit.”

Steve yanked you up and dropped you onto the mattress. You folded and wrapped an arm around your leg as you daintily touched your tortured cunt. Steve pushed on Bucky’s shoulder until he fell onto his back and leaned in to kiss him as he grabbed his dick. He stroked him firmly until the muscle flexed beneath his skin.

Bucky tossed his head back and came as the captain led him through his climax. Steve didn’t stop until the soldier winced and stopped him with a gasp. He drew his hand away as the other man reclined and turned to you. He grabbed the back of your head and made you sit up as he faced you.

Steve held up his slimy hand and pressed a finger to your lips and poked inside, “you can clean it up…” he growled, “like his good little pet.”

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