#you don't have to let their intention dictate what you take away

[doumadono]

Turbulent temptations - Choso x Reader

Warnings: smut - oral (f & m receiving, 69), doggy style, fingering, rough p in v, angst, f!Reader, boyfriend!Choso Synopsis: Choso and you engaged in a heated disagreement, culminating in an incredibly steamy moments

MASTERLIST

An atmosphere thick with tension hung in the air. Choso, the tall and muscular Death Painting Womb, stood before you, his piercing purple eyes ablaze with a mixture of anger and frustration. His jet-black hair was wild and unruly. He was a formidable presence, but tonight, he was more than intimidating.

You, a mere human, stood your ground, refusing to let him dictate your every move. His controlling tendencies had escalated to a breaking point, and tonight's argument was the culmination of weeks of mounting resentment. "You can't keep doing this, Choso," you said, your voice wavering but determined. "I won't let you control every aspect of my life. I need my independence."

Choso clenched his fists, his muscles tensing as he struggled to keep his temper in check. His lips curled into a snarl. "You don't understand, do you, my little weakling? I do it because I care about you. I'm trying to protect you from this cruel world."

You shook your head, your own temper flaring. "Protecting me is one thing, Choso, but suffocating me is another. I can't breathe in this relationship if you're always watching my every move."

Choso's face contorted in frustration. His cheeks flushed, contrasting sharply with his pale complexion. "I can't help it. It's in my nature. I've lost people I cared about, and I can't bear to lose you too."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you took a step closer to him. "Choso, I love you, but love can't thrive in an environment of control and jealousy. We need to find a balance, or we'll destroy what we have!"

"Y/N, I won't give up on protecting you because that's the only way I can be sure you're safe. You should be grateful!"

"Shut the hell up, Choso! Fuck you!" You practically screamed the last two words and delivered a forceful punch to his chest.

He blinked and seized you by the throat, his stature towering over you. He had long surpassed you in size and strength. His hand closed around your delicate neck, and he tightened his grip, eliciting a sharp gasp from you as fear instantly flooded your eyes. "If you ever lay a hand on me like that again," Choso seethed, his voice dripping with anger, "I won't hesitate to put you in your place." With that, he released his grip on you, and you stumbled, collapsing to the floor.

He moved towards you with a slow, deliberate pace, sending a shiver down your spine.

As you retreated, you found yourself backing up past your couch, your heart pounding in your chest.

"I don't know what it is about you," Choso uttered in a hushed tone that sent a chill through your bones. "You're driving me insane." He closed the gap until he was just a few feet away, and you couldn't help but tremble.

You remained silent, a mix of emotions boiling within you. Your face grew flushed, your fists clenched at your sides, and your teeth ground together in frustration. Choso's predatory gaze roved over your body, making you feel exposed and vulnerable. Anger surged through your mind, but your pussy ached, and in that moment, you despised yourself.

Finally, his eyes locked onto yours, and he advanced another step, a dark intensity in his gaze that made it clear he had no intention of letting you escape his grasp.

He grabbed your upper arms. His grip on you was a vice, a sudden and unyielding force that left you frozen in place. Choso's voice dripped with a chilling intensity as he snarled, his breath hot against your face, his eyes smoldering with a dangerous fire. "What are you gonna do?" The question hung in the air, heavy with an ominous promise. "I can take whatever I desire, whether you resist or not. So, what are you going to do? Scream? Fight me again? Beg for me to stop?"

Your defiance met his unyielding demeanor, and a silence thick with tension enveloped you both. You chose not to scream; words seemed futile in that charged moment. Instead, you defied his expectations and, with determination, rose onto your tiptoes, meeting his dangerous gaze. Without uttering a single word, you pressed your lips against his.

Choso's initial stillness and lack of response was deafening, a tension hanging in the air that was thicker than the darkest of clouds. But then, with a fierce intensity, he pulled you into a messy kiss that left your mind reeling.

Your thoughts raced as desire burned within you, an undeniable craving for him, an unspoken but unmistakable need that coursed through your veins. Your teeth grazed menacingly against his lower lip, sinking in for a harsh bite.

Choso's eyebrow shot up in shock, his grip on you loosening involuntarily.

Seizing the opportunity, you used your newfound freedom to forcefully shove him away. He stumbled backward and tumbled onto your couch, a mix of confusion and irritation flashing across his features. "The fuck…" Choso began, but you didn't let him finish.

With a predatory grace, you closed the distance between you, straddling his lap with an unmistakable air of dominance. The fabric of your skirt rode up your thighs, exposing a tantalizing expanse of skin against his robe.

You could feel his cock starting to harden beneath you, and you leaned forward, your lips almost against his as you stared straight at Choso. "Despite all of my anger and frustration, I still need you."

With a self-assured grin curling at the edges of his lips, Choso gently pushed you away, rising to his feet. He swiftly shed his clothes, and you mirrored his actions, discarding your own attire. The inexplicable rush of desire had taken you by surprise, and you couldn't help but wonder if his cursed powers were weaving their enchantment on your mind. Yet, at that moment, you couldn't find it in yourself to care - all you craved was Choso.

Your eyes drank in the sight before you.

He stood there fully naked, finally. Choso was facing you so you could see it all: his chest - strong and broad, his abs - perfectly toned, and his cock - thick and hard, precum dripping from the tip. He was the most handsome being you had ever seen in your life.

Soon, Choso was propped up on his elbows, looking at you, running the tip of his tongue along his upper lip; the head of his cock was nearly purple as his irises and the precum was literally dripping down his shaft - his excitement mirrored your own, unmistakable in his demeanor.

With a mischievous smile, you gracefully made your way onto the couch, letting your hair cascade around Choso's face as you descended to kiss him. His response was eager as he met your lips, and you allowed him to deepen the kiss, savoring the electric connection between you, before gently drawing back. "Let's find out if you can employ that tongue more effectively," you whispered, and with a swift movement, you were straddling his face.

Choso needed no further encouragement. Without hesitation, he dove into his task, sensually caressing your pussy with his tongue. Your reaction was immediate - a contented sigh escaping your lips as he expertly teased your cunt. As he continued, he gently sucked on your engorged clit, drawing a surprised moan from your lips. Unable to contain your desire, you began to move your hips back and forth, pressing your wet entrance against his eager mouth. Choso's skillful tongue danced along your slick folds, teasing the entrance to your throbbing core, ocassionally licking a long stripe along your slit. He lapped at your pussy like a starved man. Choso placed a few tiny kisses to your clitoris, eventually nudging the sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue. As your body responded with increasing fervor, he intensified his efforts, skillfully pleasuring your clit with his mouth. Waves of pleasure cascaded through your being, your fingers toying with your nipples as he lavished attention on your dripping pussy.

You shifted away from his face briefly, repositioning yourself to lean down and engage with his arousal. Afterward, you eased your wet pussy back onto his waiting mouth, and Choso responded eagerly, lavishing attention on your sensitive bundle of nerves. Simultaneously, you leaned closer to his hardened length, and with one dainty hand, you enveloped his throbbing shaft, commencing a leisurely and tantalizing rhythm of movement.

Choso groaned into your dripping cunt and the noise sent vibrations through your slick pussy. You moaned and stuck out your tongue, licking the precum off his tip. Choso's hips bucked as you did, and you licked up and down his shaft before finally taking him into your warm, welcoming mouth.

You could sense the mounting tension in the room as his deep, guttural groans resonated in the air. His hips subtly shifted, syncing with the rhythm of your movements as you pleasured him. Choso's commitment to your desires didn't waver, his attention unwavering as he devoured your cunt. But as you dared to take him deeper into your mouth, his reaction was palpable - his head tilted back, a primal sound escaping his throat as he drove his hips upwards, urging his hardness further into your welcoming throat. You gagged yourself around his cock, and found it impossible to stifle your emotions - tears streamed down your cheeks as you carefully bobbed your head, cupping his balls with your free palm, squeezing them slowly.

Choso let out a deep, sensuous moan as he spat on your slit. His intent was to ensure you were drenched, and he proceeded to resume his delicate attentions. With tantalizing tenderness, he showered your slit with gentle, kitten-like licks that sent shivers of pleasure coursing through your entire being. He occasionally enveloped your soft, plump lips within the warm embrace of his mouth after sucking them in.

Soon, you withdrew your mouth from his throbbing dick, releasing it with a soft, satisfying pop sound. You gracefully moved away from Choso's face, letting the charged atmosphere linger in the room.

"I nearly forgot the exquisite sensations of human pleasures," Choso remarked, his voice laced with surprise.

He wasted no time at all. Choso gently encouraged you to recline on your side on the plush couch. His fingers traced a voluptuous path from your side, along your thigh, and ultimately, between your legs. His focus was unwavering, and he began to tease your slick folds. Choso, with a witching vehemence, urged you to circle your arm around his neck, causing you to partially turn your upper body towards him. As your eyes met, he lavished attention on your breasts, his lips finding their way to one of your sensitive nipples. Contemporaneously, his skilled fingers delved deep into your sopping cunt, kindling a conflagration of passion and pleasure that consumed you fully.

"Ch-Choso!" You couldn't help but whine his name.

His tongue gently traced circles around your sensitive bud, and he playfully nibbled at it. Choso's fingers moved in a rhythmic motion, thrusting in and out of your cunny, inching you close to the brink of an ecstatic release.

The sensations were already sending delightful shivers throughout your body, and your soft, enticing moans coupled with the rhythmic grinding of your hips against his skilled hand only fueled Choso's desire. As your bodies moved in harmony, his palm expertly pressed against your aroused clit, intensifying the sensations as you eagerly responded to his every touch.

You found yourself perched precariously on the precipice of ecstasy, your body quivering with anticipation. With each passing moment, the intensity of your desire grew, and you knew that you were on the brink of an earth-shattering climax. It was the final touch, the masterful stroke of Choso's hand against your swollen, throbbing clit, that sent you hurtling into a tidal wave of pleasure.

"Oh, Choso!!!" Your body convulsed, an intense orgasm surging through you like a tempest, causing your hips to buck uncontrollably against his skillful touch. In the throes of ecstasy, you couldn't help but cry out, your head arching backward in sheer pleasure. "Yes, yes, yes, fuck!"

As the waves of pleasure began to recede, you felt Choso's hand, now tender and gentle, delicately caressing your sensitive, slick folds. You were left panting, your senses still tingling from the electrifying experience.

His throbbing dick pressed firmly against your ass as Choso's lips met yours in a passionate kiss. Your bodies radiated heat, drawing you closer together. In a moment of desire, he deftly maneuvered, lifting your leg and guiding it over his hip. Choso continued to press against you, and as your lips locked in a sensual embrace, the tip of his dick found its way between your slick folds.

A soft moan escaped your lips, your voice barely able to contain the passion that surged through you. "Oh, Choso!"

With each movement, he explored your neck with his lips, savoring the taste of your skin, while the intensity of your connection deepened, creating a symphony of desire and pleasure between you.

He moved his hips with a deliberate, unhurried rhythm, rocking back and forth in a sensual dance of desire. Every motion he made was slow. With each thrust, he found an opportunity to run his tongue along the column of your neck, heightening the intensity of your passion while his fervor drove you to ecstasy.

"Harder, Choso, harder, please…" You were moaning.

Some time later, he withdrew, prompting you to shift your position. You settled on all fours, your ass end provocatively arched upward.

He approached from behind, the tip of his dick making contact with your slick entrance.

You could sense it, delicately seeking access to your tight, inviting cunt, and you reciprocated by sensually wriggling back against him.

His shaft glided smoothly into your drenched haven, and he inched in gradually, a contented sigh escaping his lips as he felt your warmth envelop him. "Fuck."

A sensual moan escaped your lips as you felt him filling you completely, his pulsating, rigid length nestled deep within your core.

"Oh, Y/N," he gasped, his voice laden with desire. Choso's strong hands gripped your hips, initiating a slow, tantalizing rhythm, guiding you back and forth onto his throbbing cock. However, this leisurely pace didn't persist for long. He skillfully maneuvered one hand around your form, cupping your breasts, while his other hand found its way to your sensitive clit. With fervor, he began to thrust into you with an intensity that left you both breathless and consumed by passion.

"Ammmmpppp- fuck!" You groaned, pressing your head to the armrest.

He let out a deep, primal wail, and your breath caught as he passionately fucked you. The rhythmic sound of his balls slapping against your plush ass reverberated in the air, creating an intoxicating symphony. His every thrust found that sweet, sensitive spot within you, igniting waves of pleasure as the tip of his dick massaged that spongy place. Simultaneously, his skilled fingers danced over your sensitive clitoris, sending electric pulses of ecstasy through your body, while his teasing grip on your hardened nipples pushed you ever closer to a euphoric bliss.

"So good and so tight, fuck, Y/N, fuck," Choso moaned behind you, his head roled back a little. "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum."

In an instant, Choso quivered with intensity, delivering one last powerful thrust into the depths of your wetness. The force of his movement was so overwhelming that it caused you to lose your balance, making you stagger forward. At that very moment, you could feel the scorching heat of his hot seed spurt into your cunt, filling you completely. It was this ecstatic rush that tipped you over the edge, igniting a second climax that surpassed the first in its sheer intensity.

Your inner muscles clenched tightly around Choso's remarkable length, coaxing out every last drop of his cum, which surged forth, spilling into your longing cunt. The sheer elatedness of the moment left you both gasping, lost in the intoxicating throes of passion.

After an exhilarating encounter, the two of you found yourselves on the couch, both panting heavily. You reclined on your back, the rise and fall of your chest mirroring your deep, labored breaths. Choso, his own breath ragged, turned over and nestled his head gently against your bosom, seeking solace in the tender connection you shared.

"You're fucking amazing," he stated. "I believe I should encourage you to engage in more argments with me," he quipped, a playful glint in his eye. "You're becoming incredibly passionate afterward, my sweet Y/N."

Tagging: @roast-toast @bestliarr

#choso x reader #choso x you #choso smut #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk x fem!reader #jjk x female reader #jjk x reader smut #jjk x y/n #jujutsu choso #choso x y/n #kamo choso #jjk choso #choso jjk #choso #choso x female reader #choso kamo x y/n #choso kamo x you #choso kamo smut #divider by cafekitsune

[meerawrites]

Hello, I’m Ameera a 23 years old Muslim lesbian who is trying to come out, I’ve been in the closet with my girlfriend for way too long, because of how dangerous and hard it is to come out as a lesbian to a religious Muslim family, but me and my girlfriend have decided to do whatever it takes and risk it all to come out, do you mind supporting and encouraging us?, we have the plan to go away which is why I have my donation campaign pinned on my profile, if I raise at least that goal I can start the process with my savings, I can’t come out until I’d gotten my apartment and I’m away from family, so please support by donating if you can and help reblog though I know we all have what we dealing with, so I’m not imposing we just need all the support and encouragement we can get, check my pinned post for more information on how you can support, if you are a Muslim queer and you are out, please help with tips on how to make it less complicated, any word of advice is also really needed, we really wanna come out but we need y’all 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍⚧️ pride please come through for us, I believe pride is for all

Hi there! Ameera, @deepeagletimetravel lovely name by the way. Fun fact from an almost linguist (Hindi, Latin, French, Sanskrit, & working on music theory and Haitian Creole) and history nerd. Ameera/Amira means "Princess" in Arabic. (source), I wasn't initially sure how to reply to this besides signal boosting and donating what I can (as a broke brown & queer college student). But it's lovely to meet more brown people who also like girls. Since you introduced yourself I'll briefly introduce myself, I am Meera, after the Hindu Bhakti Poet and saint, I use they/them pronouns, I am culturally Hindu and follow some Hindu religious thinking and I am brown, bi, genderqueer, and mostly a writer. I am 20, and I say this most affectionately, I'd be cowardly facing this entire thing. You are incredibly brave for following your girlfriend and sticking to your intentions and love for one another. I know for many it isn't easy, coming was not easy for me and I've come out four times now. Of course, you should never coerce anyone out of the closet, but, we are incredibly brave for loving who we love and not letting our parents and grandparent's generation dictate how we should live. There is a long history of Hindu, Muslim, Sikh, and brown sapphicism in general. I don't mind helping or encouraging you at all.

Below are some flags I think you'd appreciate. Best of luck to you and your girlfriend, have an excellent timezone.

South Asia’s ancient queer history.

brown wlw playlist.

#meera answers #deepeagletimetravel #answered #meera speaks #meerathehistorian #lgbtq+ #queer #lesbian #bisexual #muslim #Hindu #signal boost #boost #south asian #desi tag #desi lgbt #desiblr #desi tumblr #desi queer #queer joy #positivity #positivity tag #queer history #brown history #long post tw #nblw #wlw #long post #safe to reblog #safe to rb

[sweetly-yours-and-mine]

The Dress - Oneshot

Pairing: Marc Spector x Reader, Steven Grant x Reader (mentioned not shown)

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: Marc should quit smoking and overthinking all the time.

A/N: Stole a quote from Sally Rooney's Conversations with Friends, I really overanalyzed those few lines and then I flipped the page and felt absolutely betrayed so this is what I wrote. Lines are bolded down below In typical fashion, nothing happens here. Don't smoke kids, it's not good for you.

I don't own photos, dividers or characters.

It was one of those rare days, where you’d managed to convince him to stay in bed with you for the whole day, waking up from naps for a few minutes of lazy kissing before drifting off into the next one. You’d suspected Steven also had something to do with it, probably threatening to take the body if Marc didn’t take you up on your offer. His eyes had drifted over to the screen of your phone when you were pleading with him, and he’d given in with a curt nod, methodically getting into bed with you, decompressing and melting like ice cream as his muscles became loose and relaxed. 

You’d crawled in then, twisting yourself around him until you weren’t sure where you began and where he ended. You loved it like this, Steven did too, and Marc did as well, though he always grumbled about it. About going soft. 

Soft jazz and creamy vocals filter in through the air hanging around you and Marc from the record player in the corner of the room. His fingers are trailing up and down the line of your spine, his legs intertwined with yours, a cigarette dangling in his free hand. The window is open and the curtains flutter from the breeze that whisks the smoke away from your nose. 

You lean up and take the cigarette from his mouth. He mumbles a hey in a protest that he really doesn’t mean, while you take a small breath in and place it back where it was, slowly blowing out the smoke. A thought rises in your head, and as you sift through it, deciding if it was worth voicing or not, you start tracing shapes on his chest through his shirt, peppering moth-like kisses on his neck. 

A low hum bubbles up from his throat as he shifts underneath you, stubbing out the cigarette in an ashtray on the bedside table, and murmuring, “Stop it, tickles.” You stop accordingly, pushing yourself up to press the tip of your nose against his cheek, kissing that same spot moments later. 

Having mulled over the thought enough, and since you were so close to his ear, you whisper, “If you look at love as something other than an interpersonal phenomenon-” 

“Jesus, woman,” he scoffs, but the love is still dripping from his voice, wrapping around you and holding you safe and warm. “Way to kill the mood,” a couple of moments pass in silence, and when he sees that you have no intention of continuing, he kisses the crown of your head, pulling you closer into him, wrapping his arms tightly around you. 

You pick up where you left off, “And try to understand it as a social value system.” He hums in acknowledgement, letting you know that he’s listening and that you can and should keep going. “It’s both antithetical to capitalism, in that it challenges the axiom of selfishness, which dictates the whole logic of inequality.” 

He goes quiet for a few minutes, the record spinning to a stop, and a cooler draft blowing into the room, making goosebumps rise on your skin. Marc, saying nothing, pulls the duvet on top of your shoulders, knowing better than to suggest closing the window. Finally you mumble, “Sorry for killing your mood.” 

“Don’t apologize,” Marc always thinks loudly, you’ve told him time and time again. When he goes quiet like that, you don’t take it personally, knowing that the synapses are lighting up like fireworks in his mind, eyes darting back and forth as his teeth rub together. You lean up and ease the muscle hinge of his jaw, and he catches your eyes. “You’re saying I’m better than capitalism?” 

That wasn’t what you wanted to say, but you weren’t sure anymore what your original intentions were when you started talking. “I guess so, yeah,” You pause for a moment, wrapping one of his curls around your finger and letting it bounce back into place. Gently, you trace the circles underneath his eyes with your fingers, as your ideas click into each other like puzzle pieces. “No, I’m saying we’ve defeated capitalism together.” 

He snorts, a teasing smile on his face as he turns and presses a kiss to the palm of your hand, letting you know that he likes it, that you should stay where you are. “That’s a pretty fucking low bar, comparing what we have to capitalism.” 

“Well-” You latch on to the end part of his sentence, the words he surely didn’t mean to speak out loud, the hidden meaning he didn’t want to mean. Those three words turn over and over again in your mind, dissecting them, rearranging them for any and all enigmatic emotions of his that he may have stowed away from you. “What do we have, Marc?” 

“Capitalism’s fuckin’ ugly,” it makes your heart drop a little, that his answer is so obviously defensive and terrified. For a brief moment, you want to pull away from him, to get ready and head out the door to go get some groceries you don’t need. The moment passes and the guilt crawls in, so instead, you take his hand in yours and intertwine your fingers together, bringing it to your mouth to kiss each bruised knuckle individually. 

“There’s a lot of ugly things in the world.” He hums in agreement, his hand slipping under the blanket and coming to rest on the side of your thigh, his thumb rubbing your skin back and forth. Your flutter closed, wondering how he knew what Steven does to you to get you to calm down. “But I still managed to find you.” 

When Marc doesn’t reply, body going minisculely stiff in your arms, you go back to the topic at hand. Though you love Steven with all your heart, you don’t want him to front now, what usually happens when Marc overthinks. These are words you want Marc to hear, the man who got you tulips for your first date, then bought you roses on the way back to your apartment after dinner. “It’s more than just capitalism, and defeating it. Marc, you’ve made me your equal.” 

He murmurs your name, making you catch his eyes again, “You know what I think?” He smooths his hand on the side of your head, his other still firmly grasped in yours, and comes to rest at the back of your head. “I think I shouldn’t let you smoke, you turn into Plato.” 

Smiling, you nudge your nose against his, sighing, “I’ll stop when you will.” 

“Alright then, baby,” you hear the smile curling around his voice, like a cat’s tail, soft and purring. You decided it’s a nice sound, and want to make him talk like that more, that it brings you almost as much joy and calm as it does him. “I’ll quit tomorrow.” 

He doesn’t mean it, you know that. It’s the tenth time he’s told you he’s quitting in a little more than a week. You want to keep badgering him about it, maybe guilt him into thinking about the day where he’s going to leave you all by yourself, with not even Steven to keep you company. But you know Steven will take care of that, maybe he’s even doing it now. You’re going to bloody kill yourself, Marc. Your eyes drift over to the mirror on your vanity table. Steven will probably give you a good scolding as well, telling you that you’re encouraging Marc and killing yourself, breath-by-breath. 

You look at Marc again, and the line between his eyebrows, the one that only shows when Steven is talking to him, is absent, his eyes still firmly planted on you. Maybe Steven realized that as well, that Marc is finally at ease for the first time in years, that now was not the time to squabble back and forth about cigarettes. 

Shifting underneath you, he grabs the cigarette pack and a lighter, not letting go of your hand as he shakes one out and nudges it between his lips. Before he gets a chance to light it, you take the lighter from him and do it for him. He mumbles his thanks as he sighs out, eyes falling shut. In response, you kiss the crease of his elbow, where the skin is soft and sensitive. 

“M’serious,” he says quietly, taking it between his fingers, smoke billowing out with each word. “I’ll quit tomorrow. Once I finish this pack, I’ll stop buying them and throw away my matches.” You murmur unintelligently, feeling another nap falling on you. He frowns down at you, squeezing your hand and your eyes focus back on him. “You don’t believe me.” 

“It doesn’t matter if I do,” you give him a half-hearted smile with all of your soul, your hand cupping the side of his face. 

He tilts his head, tapping some ash to the side, keeping the cigarette dangling between his fingers, “It does,” he murmurs, almost in shock that he’s saying this, wondering why. “It does fucking matter to me that you believe me.” It’s said with such conviction that goosebumps pebble on his skin, and he shivers with the intensity of the feeling washing over him. 

Roaming his face with your eyes, you sit up a little and reach for the cigarette, and bring it to your lips, inhaling. Once you’re done, you place it between his fingers again, kissing his cheek, pulling a blanket from the side of the bed on top of him, tucking it around him as best you can. You feel his eyes on you, tracing your every movement, probably hoping that you’ll tell him you believe him, that you’re proud of him for wanting to quit, to better his health for you and Steven. 

So you murmur, “Would it make you happy if I said I believed you?” 

The cigarette has burned out until now, and he stubs it out, the corners of his mouth turned down, “Doesn’t matter now, even if you did. It’s obvious that you don’t.” 

“Marc,” when he doesn’t look at you, you push him down on his back and throw your legs over his hips, grasping his face between your hands so he does. “I’ll love you regardless. And I don’t want to pressure you.” 

His eyes soften at that, and he slips his hand underneath your shirt, rubbing in small circles at the back of your hips, “So you believe me?” 

“In a way, I guess,” you smile and kiss him softly. It’s tender and gentle and it makes your heart hurt in a way that you don’t want to admit, but you do regardless. Marc bruises your heart sometimes, sending Steven to kiss them away. When you pull back you push back the curls on his forehead, “You’ll take me to the ocean tomorrow?” 

He wants to tell you that you don’t need to ask, that the question is ironic. You could ask him to shift the tectonic plates and he’d die trying, his body crushed between underwater stones, falling piece-by-piece to the salt water, never to see the light of day again. He doesn't tell you all this, knows that it’s one of those things that would scare you away, make Steven go, Marc, you bastard, now look at what you did. Steven must notice the thoughts running in his mind, because he suddenly appears in the vanity mirror as a warning, a yellow light.

So, instead, he thinks of the way you looked when he took you to the park and you’d cooed and coddled any baby or dog you’d seen. “Will you wear that dress I like so much?” 

“The yellow one with the flowers?” He hums, trying not to act surprised at how well you know him. Trying not to think about the fact of how transparent his face must have been that day in the park, how you had picked up on it without him ever actually mentioning that he liked that dress until now. 

You purse your lips to the side teasingly, and he melts into the ground at the adorable sight. He wonders if you’re aware of his will power and how it lays in the palm of your hand. Your voice calls him out of his thoughts, eyes teasing, “I thought you liked me most without any clothes on,” 

It comforts him to know that you can’t read his thoughts. That he can think about the severity of his feelings for you without feeling exposed, of becoming vulnerable before he wants to, to the possibility of rejection. “Ha ha,” he deadpans, but regardless, he slips his hands out from underneath your shirt, resting them on your thighs. He’s sure he looks like an idiot right now, just staring at you like a creep. 

“I’ll wear it,” you grin at him, clearly pleased with something you’ve seen on his face, or in his eyes. So pleased in fact, that you press your lips on his chin, lingering there for a few moments and sealing his heart to yours unknowingly. 

Still, heat rises to his face, scared that he’s overstepped a boundary in some way after making a manipulative and demanding request, “Only if you want to. Don’t because of me.” 

“I do want to. Because of you,” his stomach drops just a little, the very thing he’d been dreading molding and taking form in front of his very eyes. For a moment he considers letting Steven front, to fix his egregious mistake, put him in timeout until he learns how to talk to a woman properly, without sounding like an outdated dick. But a quick glance at the mirror lets him know that Steven is not here, not willing to take over, leaving Marc, inadequate and blundering, to fix his mistake. 

He swallows down the sandpaper in his throat, thinking about what Steven would do if he was here. Nothing comes to his mind, and he has a sudden, urgent feeling that if he doesn’t speak soon, the damage would be irreparable. But you’re still sitting in his lap, humming softly and musing about what to take for lunch tomorrow, tracing his collarbone. His head spins and hurts, not knowing where to begin, he says the first thing that comes to mind, “I’ll take you regardless. Dress or no dress.” 

“I know,” your eyes catch his, stealing his breath away. They’re teasing and light, no hint of betrayal lies within them. You lean forward and card your fingers in his hair, scratching his scalp and making him go cross-eyed. Laughing he hears you say, “And I’ll wear it.” 

“But-” 

You lean forward and kiss him quiet, pulling back to murmur, “I won’t wear it for you, I’ll wear it for me.” 

His heart rests for a few moments, glad that it’s been all cleared up. So, his hands come and press into your shoulder blades, bringing the both of you lying down on the bed. Going through the familiar motions of arranging the sheets and duvet and blankets the way you like, he murmurs, “Good, good, baby.” 

“I’m doing it to make you happy, because I know how much you like that dress,” his lungs stop mid breath, and he starts pleading for Steven to take over, to come out of whatever hole he’s hiding in because Marc can’t seem to make anything better when it comes to talking to you. “And making you happy makes me happy, so I am doing it for me.” 

Marc is ready to cry. He’s not sure what to think anymore, from the way you so simply imply that his happiness is just as important as yours, as if he could ever live up to your levels, and the way that, despite everything and all your reassurances, it still seems a little fucked up that he’s blackmailing you into wearing something he likes, so he’ll take you somewhere you like. 

He tells you this, and you just laugh, pulling away from his embrace to push the curls out of his forehead, so he can see you clearly though they just bounce back to where they were, having a mind of their own. The pout that flashes across your face turns his insides into goo, his limbs having morphed with the floral sheets underneath him. 

“So?” you smile at him, kissing the space above and below his lips with a small giggle, you must have known not to expect a reply from him when he’s in this state. “So, what if it’s fucked up?” 

He has effectively no response for that in his mind so he shrugs, “Doesn’t feel right, s’all.” 

“Why?” You’re tracing his hairline, expression soft and domestic and everything he’s ever wanted in his life. “Aren’t I your equal, Marc?” 

“‘Course you are,” he confirms back it like it’s the only truth he’s ever known. That his life would be meaningless without it. In many ways it would. He’s just glad that you’ve realized how much he needs you in his life, that a world where he wasn’t your equal wasn’t a world that had meaning for him. 

And if you’d figured that out through some half-asleep murmurings, bashing capitalism to its very axiom, then so be it. He murmurs it again, once more for himself, “‘Course you are.” 

“And you’ll take me to the ocean tomorrow?” 

He tells you that you didn’t have to ask, that you could demand it from him and he would do so in a heartbeat. 

“Just like you did with the dress?” you’re smiling from ear-to-ear, having caught him in his own trap. “Marc,” you murmur before he can think anymore about it. “Marc, you don’t have to ask me to wear what you like, or make you a cup of tea, or anything else. Not when you and I are on the same stage in the world, when you’re just as important to me as I am to myself.” 

Marc decides that he likes that idea, that he’ll take you to the ocean tomorrow with no fuss, and that maybe, just maybe, he can handle things almost as well as Steven can. His mind drifts off to a probable future, he hopes, when, or if, he’d manage to give you a baby of your own, a dog as well. 

Though he’s more of a cat person, a dog would work better with the fish.

Thanks for reading! Part 2 here!

#marc spector #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #marc spector x y/n #marc spector x female!reader #marc spector fluff #marc spector angst #marc spector fanfiction #marc spector fanfic #marc spector fic #marc spector x f!reader #marc spector imagine #steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #steven grant x female!reader #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight #moon knight imagine #moon knight fic #oscar isaac

[sunnydayjackass]

I’ve been kinda down lately, and I thought of the question.

What would Jack do if Y/N were in any danger? Say like a person attempted to harm them, or tried to abduct them in real time? I’m really curious on what would go down-

I'm sorry to hear that boo. Ask box is open if you have more requests or my DMs if you want someone to vent to. Safe & judgment free

TW: attempted kidnapping, aggravated assault, gore ish?

It goes without saying that the fact Jack is real, tangible, and corporeal to only you has more cons than it does pros. While Jack is known to fuss and fawn about you, he worries more than he'll ever let on. Under that sunny optimistic bravado is layers of worry and anxiety about your well being. He's very aware that the world can be a cruel and unforgiving place. People have bad intentions and he stresses over doing what he can to protect you from it.

It's a delicate line to walk, Jack doesn't want to smother you or scare you of course but I can absolutely see him as the type to gently encourage you getting something to defend yourself on the walks home from work. After all they make such cute options these days!! Whether you do or don't buy into investing in these items (real talk-- please do) it still doesn't do much to ease Jack's worries.

These fears are made made real, ripped right from his nighmares one evening when the pair of you are walking home from a shift at Popov's. A car approaching slowly from behind to roll up alongside you, Jack can feel you tense up, your hand slowly towards your bag and in a blink the car stops and a man approaches you. Gentle at first to attempt to persuade you into the vehicle, buttering you up with compliments, asking you out tonight. Its so bizarre and forward you're disgusted immediately. But when you decline and hasten your walk to your apartment with Jack eagerly ushering you along, you're struck with something hard and heavy at the back of your head.

What if Jack could possess others? There's this searing rage that boils in his veins, an absolute fury that he himself has never experienced before. And what follows...well- you have no idea. But it isn't pretty by any means. What Jack orchestrates is nothing short of slow and brutal torture of a man by his own hands. Those same vile hands that dared to reach out at you, dared to hurt you, it was likely for the best those hands be broken, right? Those covetous eyes that dragged over your body, that brain that carried such awful thoughts and ideas- whatever impulse or synapse dictated that attempting to harm you was a good idea needed to be snuffed out. Jack takes his time, his voice teasing and taunting his man and orchestrating mutilation...it's deserved of course. All Jack does, he does for you.

You're woken not long after, your head throbbing as you groan and hear Jack breathe a sigh of relief. "I was so worried you were concussed but...had to get us home as quickly as possible." You still look discombobulated, trying to get your bearings before you see Jack's face but your vision still swims a little. You could have sworn he had on more facepaint but maybe you're just seeing things. The two of you hurry home where Jack fetches the first aid kit from under the sink.

As you sit on the lip of the bathtub with your back to Jack as he gently sifts through your hair, cleaning away caked blood and the nasy gash at your head, the bleeding mostly stopped deep mottled bruising around where the impact was. Jack's heart breaks, sinking into the floor as he looks at it. If only he could do more to keep you safe, he'd been lucky this time and he'd do it without question again and again for you. He was happy to do it, enjoyed it even. There wasn't a lick of remorse for the decimated unrecognizable corpse he left behind. But for you? It was unfathomable tragedy. "...I'm...I'm so sorry Sunshine." Jack breathes shakily as he tends to your wound.

Your purse your lips and clench your jaw as prickles of pain erupt from his helpful handiwork. "No, you don't have anything to apologize for...you told me to get self defense stuff. I should have been quicker on the draw." You want to stay strong, you want this to roll off your back but your chest feels tight and your mouth feels bone dry. "...did...did anything happen? To me?" You're so afriad to ask but you're entirely unsure. You feel fine. Your clothes aren't fucked up. But you don't know what happened or how long you were out for.

"Oh no, no no no, Sunbeam. Nothing else happened to you." Jack answers quickly, and you know he's telling the truth. His hands fall from your hair to rub your shoulders with his large hands, thumbs pressing along the back of your neck the way you like.

"What did happen?" You ask quietly and Jack stalls for a moment, a mere second, that you thankfully don't seem to take notice of. Jack thinks back to the sight he left behind. Hands broken, crushed as bone splintered through the fleshy digits. Skull caved in, face brutalized into the interior under the hood that was pressed down impossibly tight. Those eye tho, Jack had made sure to rid of those though, that had been the first item on the list. Gruesome, sure but attacking you was an unforgivable act.

Leaning down, Jack peppers you with delicate kisses, his scent replacing the sterilized smell of rubbing alcohol and medicinal ointment as arms move to hug you to him from behind. "Nothing happened, Sunshine. Nothing you have to fret about. I'll keep you safe. I promise."

#somethings wrong with sunny day jack #there's something wrong with sunny day jack #theres something wrong with sunny time jack #something's wrong with sunny day jack #sunny day jack #tswwsdj #swwsdj #sdj x reader #sunny day jack x reader #sdj

[totally-sapphic-posts]

hai!! i'm really sorry if this might sound invalidating and all over the place 🥹 i genuinely don't have the intention to invalidate both sexualities at all, i really badly need to get this off my chest and maybe i'm also seeking for a sort of an enlightment because i have been questioning my sexuality for as long as i can remember, i used to label myself as a bisexual but recently i feel more comfortable with calling myself with the label sapphic, also because i'm not sure i can label myself as a lesbian due to my past relationship with a couple of men.

before this, as a bisexual i always thought that i'm just a bisexual with a stronger lean towards women, non binary and woman aligned people, so i just settled with labelling myself as a bisexual sapphic. when i learnt about comphet i started to wonder if i was experiencing comphet when i dated men and my past relationships with men was never really that special? and kinda suck? 😭 and while i know i dated men before i never really saw myself being committed to them for a very long time.

compared to now which i'm currently in a long term sapphic relationship, i am very much happier and i can see myself being committed to my girlfriend for a very long time >< i know how this might seem like i'm only questioning myself again just because i'm in a sapphic relationship, if that makes sense, it's also one of the reasons why i'm hesitant to label myself as a lesbian

I’ll start off by saying that past relationships don’t define our current sexualities. You could’ve dated 100 men in the past and discovered tomorrow that you’re only really attracted to women and identify as a lesbian.

The thing is, we’re constantly learning about ourselves. Take away the influence of other people and how you think others will respond, and think about yourself right now. Whatever you’re feeling, go with it. If you feel like you’re a lesbian and your past attraction to men was due to Comphet, then you’re a lesbian. If tomorrow, next week, in a year’s time, or even ten years’ time, you find that you don’t feel you fit into the category of lesbian, then that’s okay. Don’t feel pressured to conform to the expectations of whatever label you choose (if you end up using a label at all).

And just because you’re questioning again because you’re in a sapphic relationship, doesn’t make your questioning any less valid/important. I’d argue that you’re gaining more perspective and you’re able to analyse how the different relationships (with men and with women) have made you feel and where you truly feel comfortable.

Go with your gut, anon ♡ don’t let anyone dictate how you label yourself. You don’t owe anyone an explanation for what you choose. Only you truly know you. Trust your judgement.

Wishing you the best of luck ❤️

#ask #wlw #questioning

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook:Crossroads(Intro) 🔞

In which you've always been inferior to golden child Jeon Jungkook- the boy with better grades, better manners, better intentions. The boy who everyone knew, everyone loved, including you. The boy with the brilliant future ahead, big intentions and even bigger goals. The boy who cried when you left his side, who got told by his parents that you've taken your life, that you're gone, that you're never coming back. The boy who fell apart, ran away, desperate to forget it all.

Tags/Warnings: childhood friends to ???, dark pasts, mentions of depressive thoughts and medication, mentions of suicide, bad parenting, mentions of drug usage, mentions of sleeping around, more TBA as the story progresses

Additional Chapter Warnings: heartbreak, depression, mentions of suicide and self-harm, fluff lol but it's very little, Major Angst

Chapter Length: long

⚠This is not an easy fic. It covers very harsh subjects such as mental health, depression and self-destruction. Please seek out help if you need it. You're worth someone else's time, believe me.

♥━━━━━━━━━━━♡━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

"You really shouldn't be doing that, what if you hurt yourself?!" Jungkook urgently tells you, carefully setting you down after letting you jump into his arms from the fence you'd climbed over.

"Nah, you'll always catch me." you tell him instead with a grin, tapping the tip of his nose, making him roll his eyes- though he has to grin as well, while you take his hand, swinging it back and forth with every step you both take.

It's sad you can only meet like this these days.

And if his parents knew who he was sneaking out with, he knows he'd be done for- they already hate you for whatever reason there might be. He himself can't see any; you're lovely, caring, a bit overly excited sometimes, but absolutely adorable. "I'm gonna get a tattoo!" you suddenly say hushed, sitting next to him on the swing while he doesn't move on his, looking at you.

"you're 15, no one's gonna tattoo you." he says worriedly, already well aware of your sometimes sneaky tactics of getting your way. You don't take the rules too seriously, and while you don't ever hurt anyone, you like to bend things to fit yourself. "Y/N.." he threatens, and you pout at him, stopping the swing.

"You still don't call me baby." you say playfully dramatic, and he blushes, averting your gaze. But then you get up, and maneuver your legs over his, sitting on his lap while his feet are now flat on the ground to steady you both, your arms around his neck. "say it." you say quietly, and he can't help but be enchanted by the way your lips move.

You're really pretty.

Your black sheer tights are ripped from your mom's cat that plays a little too roughly sometimes, and the silver chain around your neck has a little heart locket hanging from it- a cheesy gift from himself to you, when he'd confessed almost a year ago, a blushing mess in the back of the school.

You'd been his first kiss that day.

"Koo- hey koo, here." you giggle, wind swaying your dyed hair a little so you have to shake it out of your face. "I'm waiting." you say, and he groans stubbornly, throwing his head back in frustration.

"It's weird." he shyly complains, and you laugh, now hugging him closely, head on his shoulder, your breath tickling his neck.

"that's fine." you say quietly, and his arm wraps around you while the other holds the chain of the swing. "I love you." you whisper, and he smiles to himself.

"I love you too." he mumbles, making you giggle in childish excitement, swaying your legs around.

He really wishes he'd called you baby.

He never did.

♥━━━━━━━━━━━♡━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

His new apartment is nice.

It's a cozy little hideout away from everything, finally a place of his own where he's the one who dictates what happens. There's not much furniture put up even months after moving in, but he's lazy and can't seem to find time these days to really do it.

Right now he's eating cereal on his couch while watching a random docu series on his old playstation 4, the fan of the console buzzing in the background like it always does. He likes white noise like that- it fills the silence in this place, helps him sleep better.

Maybe he should get a pet.

Right now however, as he finishes his breakfast, he needs to actually go out for once and talk to someone. He's been eyeing the tattoo place downtown for a while now, their instagram page full of amazing pieces he'd love to get placed under his skin. There's not much space left in his sleeve tattoo, but it feels awfully empty in one specific spot.

One he doesn't like to look at.

He'd had to wait years to finally get something to cover up the scars, skin by now finally healed enough to support the ink he's going to have settled under it. Finally he will be able to cover it up, let go of that memory.

Hopefully.

The sun outside is harsh, his bucket hat luckily preventing it from shining into his eyes too much. He's constantly got the curtains closed and apartment dark, his eyes aren't used to the natural light outside too much. He technically even needs glasses- maybe he will get one these days.

Inside the parlor, it's awfully nice. He can't help but notice how much more inviting this one looks to the last one he'd visited- everything awfully cozy and simple. "hey." someone says, cat-like eyes scanning him lazily, though not unfriendly at all. "need help?" the young man wonders, and Jungkook nods as he walks closer.

"I've been texting with a Yoongi on Instagram? I'm Jungkook." he explains, and the guys eyes widen a bit before he nods, smiling faintly as he greets him.

"ah, thought it was you but wasn't sure. Here-" Yoongi says, placing a big black book on the counter for Jungkook to browse through just like they'd agreed on. Yoongi knows why he's getting what he's getting, knows the nature of this specific job- and he sympathizes a lot with the younger male. He's had his fair share of darkness in his past as well- though not to the degree Jungkook has had to face.

"What about that one?" Jungkook asks, pointing to a page in the sketch book of templates the studio has to offer, making Yoongi shrug who turns the book around to check.

"That's still free to be used." he informs the younger guy. "the artist isn't in for tattooing today, but I can schedule an appointment if you want. she'd want to make it more personal to you as well- she likes to make shit unique, you know." he tells him.

"can't you do it?" Jungkook wonders, leaning on the front desk next to the sketchbook, lazily so.

"nah. We don't touch stuff that's not ours, unwritten rule." he says, before looking up. "lemme ask her real quick when she's free." he says, before.. Looking underneath the table? Jungkook is confused for a second, before he hears a sleepy voice answer Yoongi's gentle question.

"tomorrow. Wait which one is it?" you wonder, before getting up, eyes still tired and mind a bit hazy.

Jungkook's blood freezes at the sight of you.

"hmhm, tomorrow. Give him my number or something." you simply say, before disappearing again.

"heard her. Tomorrow at 4, make sure to bring a good amount of time. I'll text you her contact and stuff- you okay there?" Yoongi chuckles, while jungkook just nods, walks out, and battles the nausea in his car.

That was you, no doubt. He'd recognize that face anywhere, it's been haunting him for years after all, fueling his nightmares ever since that day his parents spoke to him about what happened. You're not supposed to be here. You're not supposed to be the one to ink his skin tomorrow, you're not supposed to ever cross his path ever again in the first place.

You're supposed to be dead.

♥━━━━━━━━━━━♡━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

"No-" he says quietly, silently, before he shakes his head frantically. "no. You're lying. She wouldn't." he argues, suddenly feeling as if there's no oxygen left in his lungs.

"Jungkook you know how selfish she's always been." his father sighs. "you'll get over it-" he starts, but Jungkook snaps, at his father, for the first time. His voice is cracking, it's angrily raspy as he barks out his words.

"Don't talk about her like that!" he says, eyes already filling with tears. "she wouldn't.." he says, but his father doesnt back down.

"look at what she did!" he accuses. "ruins your future and then hangs herself the minute she's done playing-"

But the man doesn't get any further as Jungkook's fist collides with the nose of his own father, cartilage cracking disgustingly under the impact, blood flowing seconds after. His mother is holding her hands in front of her open mouth in shock, while Jungkook himself runs out of the house, down the street.

You wouldn't.

He's seen you yesterday, you'd been fine. you'd joked around with him like always, kissed him with that giggle of yours, his sweater baggy on your body as he'd given it to you since it had turned out to be colder than it was supposed to be. He'd seen you shiver- and you'd smiled, before giving him a kiss, calling him baby because you knew it would make him shy.

It had worked.

He trips as he climbs over the fence just like you'd always done, scrapes his shin and palms on the gravel below, but when he walks closer to your apartment complex, he only sees your mother petting her cat near the window of your little balcony, crying.

She's crying.

Why is she crying?

You're not gone.

You wouldnt. You promised to never leave him no matter what life would put between the two of you. You always compared you both to romeo and juliet, but always made sure to add that you'd both have a happy ending, not like the original. You'd beat the odds and live happily ever after. You promised to give him that happy end he always dreamed of.

You wouldn't break your promise.

Right?

He remembers how he'd fallen to his knees right then and there, empty, broken, world suddenly background noise as his brain forces him to imagine you swaying from the ceiling like he's seen in horror movies. He remembers almost pulling his hair out at the thought, unable to deal with those images. He remembers his mother leading him back into his dad's car to drive back home.

♥━━━━━━━━━━━♡━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

He remembers the pain.

He always will.

"You could've told me!" you yell at Yoongi after realizing what just happened.

You sigh, sitting on the floor carelessly before burying your face in your legs.

Jeon Jungkook had been standing in this very place, and you'd agreed to tattoo him tomorrow of all days. That's not even enough time to fake falling sick for fucks' sake!

"I didn't know you knew each other." Yoongi raises his hands in defense. "you two have history?"

"you remember the boy I told you about?" you say quietly, before reaching into your shirt, pulling out the silver locket.

"Oh fuck." Yoongi sighs, squatting down close to you. He remembers that day- you'd finally opened up to him, spilling your heart and explaining why you are the way you are. "hey, maybe he didn't realize it's you. It's been what, 6 years?"

"seven." you correct him, and he gently pats your head.

"I can tell him to not come here tomorrow." Yoongi seriously tells you. "I don't want you to face something you're not comfortable with." he explains, and you look at the inside of the locked, tiny picture faded. "hm?" he tries to break you out of your thoughts.

"he won't stay anyways once he realizes who I am." you say quietly. "after all, he probably hates me." you say.

"who knows." Yoongi tries to reassure. "maybe it's time for your happy ending?" he smiles carefully, but you just start to cry into your knees at that.

There's no way you can face him.

But maybe It's time to face your past.

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#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #Crossroads au

[transpersian]

Bottom line is: I choose who I talk to. Nobody from either side is going to dictate that to me.

so y'all are like... in ok terms now? that's good to hear ig. maybe there's hope for everyone after all. idk your post made me feel warm inside. i'm happy for you, please stay healthy and take care of yourself. thank you for all the thoughful discussions, you helped a lot of people and i hope people remember it. <3

"Okay" doesn't come anywhere close to describing the complexity of the situation. Let me see if I can give you an idea by summarizing some of it, briefly and impartially:

We've both been through a lot directly because of each other and we both still have a lot of active and complicated feelings about them.

This affects a lot of relationships that both of us have and there are a lot more ongoing elements to the current landscape than just us.

And you can bet your ass that both of us have been having discussions with friends who are very, very not okay with what we're doing.

I always said I'd be willing to talk and I meant it. These principles matter if we're to ever have hope for anything but eternal war, here or otherwise. They've served me well and guided me true in the face of doubters for a long time.

Does this resolve everything? No, of course not. You just have to look at Twitter to see the current carnage. I'm going to be sticking very strictly to what I said in my post: I will not be speaking positively or negatively of anyone on either side regarding this conflict. I can only encourage you to look at what's happening and decide for yourself.

~~~~~~~~~~

Thing is, I'm still here. You can send questions, and while I can't promise I'll be able answer them, I'll do so to the best of my ability.

My personal code and approach towards this situation still holds true. I still believe in approaching things a certain way. That's why I said that the current discourse isn't for me; the tornado got away from me while I was gone and now it's too big to steer.

I can only encourage people to be civil and empathetic, evidence-focused and direct, to not engage with the inevitable spectators that want to turn it into a participation sport.

When it was a few Tumblrs on here, that was doable. Now the war's come home for them and I don't have nearly the level of credibility or influence that some people who are involved do. I can't turn them one way or the other. Even the content creators are mostly watching from the sidelines not wanting to get involved.

~~~~~~~~~~

And beyond that... y'all, now that I've made this decision, I'm coming to realize just how fucking exhausted I've been.

I'm not turning my back on anyone who doesn't turn their back on me, I promise. Even then.

But I need you all to understand that while I can't tell you everything that's gone on behind the scenes, the people closest to me and supporting me the most through this have been increasingly concerned about how this has been impacting my well-being, and whether I would ever be able to pull away from it.

They've wanted me to step back. It wasn't my initial intention when accepting her invitation to talk, but the fact that the opportunity has arisen from it right as the need for it has become dire is just good luck.

~~~~~~~~~~

Again, not to get into too many details, but January got harrowing. I went through the worst mental collapse I've had since last July (if you've read my doc, it's the part with the panic attacks). I have a whole life outside of this that I've had to maintain, and if I told you the level of high-pressure work I deal with in my day job, you wouldn't believe me. This is on top of being caught in the middle of my parents' divorce and helping plan and prep my sister's wedding.

I've been burning the candle at both ends for months, practically every single day. I tried to take breaks, but I'd inevitably get a day or two in before some other thing happened that needed my attention. With where last month pushed me... I don't know.

While a lot of elements aligned and a lot of thought went into these decisions, I lost people for even talking to her in the first place, and honestly, I don't really blame them. I understand the feelings that people have about this. Believe me, I'm still having some very direct, personal conversations about it in DMs and VCs, especially after today's post.

But I have thought about this, a lot. If you've been reading my posts for a while, you've seen how I've approached this situation the whole time. Those principles and values just extend further than a lot of people consider to be wise, reasonable, or even just plain not "fucking insane." If any of y'all had known me for a few years, you'd know that this is not a new thing for me; this path has served me well for many years and has been an essential compass in pivotal moments.

Sometimes it pays off. Sometimes it kicks me in the ass. But I never regret it.

I've always been direct and honest about my perspective, and I'm still very much who I've always been. I'm not some naive child wandering into a trap; I'm deeply considering how I handle every step of this, and me doing my own thing here isn't going to change much in the grand scheme of the current fight.

~~~~~~~~~~

If you've had faith in or respect for how I've done things so far, I'd like to hope that I've earned that. I simply ask that you consider these actions in the context of those feelings over the gut discomfort that may come from the notion that we're even having conversations in the first place now.

And I don't know what conversations you think we're having, but they're definitely not full of bubblegum and butterflies. We've both got BPD and have put each other through hell. There are a lot of big feelings to contend with. Hurt and rage and resentment. Things that can't be fixed or taken back or forgiven.

If you don't understand why I'd be open to a chance to have those conversations, I can't explain it to you. I only ask that you continue to trust my increasingly unconventional approach to all of this.

You don't have to give it to me. You don't owe it to me. I can only ask for it.

So... are Poppy and I "on okay terms" now?

I don't know.

It's complicated and really fucking weird.

But it's definitely not the catastrophic idea that some people think it is. I just hope they'll give me the time and chances to prove them wrong.

#zenaandpoppy #poppy and zena

[aurora-ze-aquarius]

so many people talk about lightning having daddy issues but, what if he had mommy issues?

his father left him and his mom to take care of themselves even when she needed him the most. she decided to take care of lightning and give him all the attention she could for the rest of his life, as a way of keeping herself from being lonely.

but with all good intentions there comes a twist. her loving and caring nature towards lightning had become an obsession. When he went to school his mom would secretly spy on him, feeling a raging jealousy if he ever befriended someone closely, thinking that he'd leave her

it got even worse as he got older. he was homeschooled from the time he was supposed to go to middle school. his mom smothered him in love and lies of the world, which were covered in a blanket of "protectiveness." lightning felt exhausted, having to bear with his mother's excessive pushiness and her need for attention every second. She had never even let him go for a walk outside, thinking that he would get "taken away from her."

one day he ran away and never returned, but his mother's words and false affections still haunted his mind…

OWJCOCNSICJC

This is great!

I live for the angst

Here's a short story cause why not

//⚠️⚠️ Helicopter parenting, overbearing mom, possesiveness

"Can't sleep, Stickers?"

Lightning turned to his side. Sally was there, two cans of cold, canned beer in her hands. She walked and sat down next to him, handing over one of the drinks.

"Thanks. And yeah, I can't sleep well." Lightning replied, leaning his head against her shoulder. There they sat on the rooftop of the motel's office, with nothing but the cold winds, and faint starlight as their company.

He cracked open his can and took a sip, feeling the taste of liquor down his throat. "I've just been thinking..." Lightning began, "You remember when we were talking about meeting up with your parents for mothers' day, right?" Sally hummed in response, gesturing for Lightning to continue. "And somewhere along the line... you asked if we could meet up with my family someday..."

A small frown appeared on Sally's lips, seeing how conflicted her boyfriend looked. "I'm sorry, Stickers. I didn't know it was a sore topic."

Lightning shook his head, "No, it's alright. It's just... Well. I never really think about it, and I suppose I was just thinking about how to explain it to you."

Sally nodded. "You don't have to tell me now you know? It's alright."

Again, he shook his head. "No, it's fine. I think it's time I came to terms with it I suppose..." Taking a deep breath, he let out a sigh, taking another sip from his can.

"My dad was never around. He left when I was just a baby, and I never really knew much about him. My mom practically raised me, basically devoting her whole life to me. That's an understatement...

"She... I... I know she loves me... and I know she was just looking after me but she just felt so... suffucating..." His grip on the can tightened, lightly denting the aluminum. "She watched me like a hawk. She'd never let me go anywhere unless she was with me. She never even let me go on school field trips, often claiming I was 'sick' or I was busy doing something else. She often dictated what I can nor can't do. One time, I think when I was around 5, maybe 4, I was messing with some of her makeup and she was livid... Said that boys should never do girl things and what not... Which is bullshit 'cause Bobby absolutely killed it in a dress..." He chuckled.

Sally gently wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close. Lightning sighed, resting his head against her chest. "I felt so trapped. It was as if she kept me under a microscope, and I was held in a cage so small I couldn't move. So then, one day, once I had saved enough money, and once I won a scholarship to the racing academy, I just left. I ran, and never looked back... Changed my name and my whole demeanor... There have been a few close calls where she nearly recognized me, but I'm lucky to have slipped away..."

Sally kissed his forehead, rubbing his arm with a hand. "I'm sorry Stickers..."

Lightning gently pulled away, kissing her on the cheek. "It's fine, Sal. Really... I suppose I can't help but wonder... How would things have gone had I never ran away..?"

She ran her hand through his hair, then lightly cupped his cheek. "Lightning, you are incredibly lucky to have run away from a toxic situation... It takes a lot of strength just to recognize that you deserve better... And even more so to finally break free..."

Lightning sighed, a small smile found its way on his lips as his eyes felt wet and heavy. Tears threatened to fall, but didn't. "Thank you, Sal... For everything, really..."

#pixar cars #cars fandom #pixar #lightning mcqueen #humanized cars #salqueen #cars 2006 #🌌⚠️ #🌌📝 #🌌✉️

[gloriabomfim]

Nighttime Rainy Conversation

Nighttime Rainy Conversation:

Boone and Blossom stand under the shimmering night sky, their surroundings adorned with a soft drizzle of rain. The distant sound of raindrops on leaves creates a soothing ambiance.

Boone: (smiling) The rain has a way of making everything feel peaceful, doesn't it?

Blossom: (gazing up at the stars) It's like nature's lullaby, calming and beautiful.

Boone: (leaning closer) And being here with you makes it even more special.

Blossom: (blushing) You always know how to say the sweetest things, Boone.

Argument and Raised Voices:

As the conversation progresses, the mood takes an unexpected turn. The gentle rain seems to mirror the tension that emerges between Boone and Blossom.

Boone: (concerned) Blossom, there's something I've been meaning to talk about.

Blossom: (curious) What is it?

Boone: (hesitating) I've noticed you spending more time with Glimmer from the Lumixies lately.

Blossom: (defensive) And what if I have? We're just friends, Boone.

Boone: (frustrated) I know, but I've seen the way he looks at you. It makes me uncomfortable.

Blossom: (voice rising) You can't just dictate who I spend time with, Boone!

Boone: (raising his voice) I'm not trying to dictate anything! I just care about you.

Seeing Tears and Regret:

The argument escalates, filling the air with charged emotions. Boone's anger subsides as he notices Blossom's eyes glistening with tears.

Blossom: (voice shaky) Maybe you don't trust me as much as you think you do.

Boone: (softening) Blossom, I trust you. I'm sorry for yelling.

Blossom: (sniffing) It's not just about trust. It's about letting me make my own choices.

Boone: (regretful) You're right. I shouldn't have acted that way. I'm sorry.

Blossom: (wiping away tears) I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have gotten so defensive.

Goodbye and Resolution:

As the rain continues to fall, Boone and Blossom find solace in their shared understanding. The moment becomes a turning point in their relationship.

Boone: (gentle) Let's not let this argument come between us, Blossom.

Blossom: (nodding) Agreed. We need to communicate better and trust each other.

Boone: (reaching for her hand) From now on, no more jealousy or arguing.

Blossom: (squeezing his hand) And no more keeping secrets or misunderstanding intentions.

They exchange a reassuring smile, the raindrops mingling with their shared resolve.

Boone: (softly) I love you, Blossom.

Blossom: (smiling) I love you too, Boone.

The rain's melody and their renewed connection envelop them, creating a tranquil harmony within the storm.

[End of Transcript]

#mixels #oc #boone #blossom #rain #rainy #rainy night #sad #saddest #saddest moment

[formulatrash]

i have to be real in light of your lewis and lando post, but there is something about the way, even people with good intentions, have been treating drivers of color lately that rubs me wrong as a person of color.

i have seen a lot of people lately call out the way drivers like yuki or lewis get framed as hot-headed or too aggressive or whatever other racist stereotype after being justifiably angry or frustrated on the radio, while white drivers largely get away with it being "heat of the moment" or at worst they're being whiny or something. and i do agree with that. it seems like drivers of color are expected to be like these sweet and docile characters to get the same respect that their white counterparts do.

but then i see, usually in reference to lando, but i've seen it with other drivers like daniel, george, and even bottas too, these fans trying to dictate who lewis can support or spend time with. i know if you've seen the recent drama, you have probably seen 100 variations of "i wish lewis would stop being so supportive of lando, lando never has anything nice to say about him" — which taking away that not even being true, what really gives fans the right to think they should dictate who lewis is or isn't allowed to hang out with or support? lewis is a grown man capable of making these decisions on his own, and even if he does have a problem with something lando says and feels that it impacts their friendship or work acquaintanceship or whatever relationship they feel they have — they're adults who actually know each other and see each other most weekends, not one having a parasocial relationship with the other who doesn't even know they exist — he can communicate that problem to lando. he doesn't need 10,000 fans telling him who he is and isn't allowed to like.

it's infantilizing and it's insulting. drivers, and more generally, people of color should be allowed to feel and express emotions without others trying to police them and say they're expressing themselves wrong, they need to be more gentle, etc. but on that same note, drivers of color should be allowed to choose who they want to support or hang out with without others trying to police that either.

we're autonomous adults. things like racism? definitely call that out and make sure that person doesn't get away with it. things people perceive as "disrespect" when 9 times out of 10 in f1 it's just banter or — heaven forbid, even an accurate statement — people don't need to feel "disrespected" on behalf of lewis and then try to tell lewis, a grown man capable of making his own judgment calls, who he's allowed to support or spend time with. i can guarantee f1 fans that this whole infantilizing, "we're not autonomous beings capable of making our own decisions" attitude is just as offensive regardless of if it's in regards to our decisions on how we express our feelings or who we hang out with. f1 fans in general need to understand that and start treating and recognizing people of color as autonomous beings who don't need our emotions and friendships policed, just let people of color live jfc

my sincerest apologies in advance if this comes across as rude because you personally have not said anything to make me feel this way, but i have saw so many horrid takes lately and i don't understand how people can be upset by the radio reputation situations and then think treating drivers like this and trying to police who they are even allowed to be around anymore is ok.

hello,

apologies, I only just got around to reading through all this because my brain is extremely slow but like, firstly I think this is an important perspective to consider and secondly, people really just generally need to police other people's interactions less. like do I love that Lewis is friends with Brad Pitt? no because he's. a documented abuser. so that's a bummer. but 'guy who is literally one of his younger work peers' seems less of an issue by quite a long way. the drivers do not spend all day beefing each other just because their fans do, even George and Max hang out and honestly, just as well for Max his car is so fast because otherwise George would be terrorising him every weekend.

#f1 asks

[witchcraftandburialdirt]

From one anxiety haver to another; do you have tips on how to interact with people without wanting to cry?

Im so impressed by your ability to just get into peoples dms so quickly and share discords. Even thinking about it makes me want to run away 😭😭😭

ANON ASK

Mmmm...I really had to sit down and think about this one, if I'm being honest, because I really understand that feeling of your chest clenching up and the thoughts of "Oh, am I bothering them?" And I want to start by saying that I'm already really proud of how brave you are by sending in this ask, even if it is on anon! Opening up like this is really difficult and wanting to take that first step and ask for advice is a big accomplishment!

To be honest, it will forever be a work in progress for those of us who suffer with anxiety constantly gnawing on all of our thoughts, and that progress will never be linear. I've found myself thrown around quite a bit emotionally and mentally by people I thought I could trust, and completely accepted by people I've only just met--and it's a lot to swallow. I don't think I'll ever get past it, but I think a big help in my own life is to realize that my thoughts are my own. Those nasty little thoughts that tell you it isn't worth it, or that you're a bother, that no one cares, all of that nonense--it's entirely caused by a chemical in our brains--thats all it is!

With that knowledge, I'm able to push past it and tell myself, "A wonderful relationship could be one step away, and I'm letting my serotonin imbalance keep me away from it? No! It isn't going to dictate my life!" And this in NO WAY means that I'm not scared! The "how I could be better" list goes on FOREVER..and its scary!!! But--Bravery and courage aren't about lack of fear, they're about being terrified and still taking that leap of faith. Sucking your breath in, closing your eyes and sticking your foot in the water without knowing how icy it may be. And I've found, more often than not, that I'm met with kindness, grace, and good people who only want the best for one another.

And despite this, and you can ask practically everyone in my DMs, it still eats at me, I still find myself apologizing for nonsensical things or closing off because I think no one else enjoys what I have to say. It still hurts me, pain's a well-intentioned weatherman after all, and I've accepted it as part of myself. Something I have to water, watch, and take care of just like all of the positive aspects of myself. Take your time, take deep breaths, hell--LET yourself cry if you need to! PLEASE let yourself feel--the worst thing is telling yourself you're not allowed to feel things, negative or positive.

It's uncomfortable, unpleasant and I can't say its like a switch, or that all of your interactions will be pleasant--I know mine haven't been. BUT....those interactions aren't the end all, and they definitely are not the majority. I CAN guarantee you that almost everyone has these thoughts, and you are far from alone in this ever upwards battle, and there will be plenty of people to help support you and help you up that hill, even if your brain tells you otherwise. Even if you have bad days, true friends and truly good people won't throw you under the bus, someone who I'm extremely proud to call my friend once told me,

"Friends will offer you gentle reminders and guide you back."

That being said, I understand that my levels and other peoples vastly differ, but I've spent my entire life desperately searching for an answer, and I don't think I'll ever find one good enough to permanently fix my brain chemistry. Letting myself feel, accepting myself as I am, and taking that deep breath to realize my thoughts are my own, and that most people are understanding; these are all things I use.

You deserve those friendships, Anon. You deserve that happiness from reaching out, and I can guarantee you that you'll bring others that same joy by interacting with them too. With that, I offer you free range to come into my inbox at any time, my DMs, and my discord (if we're not already friends on there! :D Feel free to friend me: SpiritDaddyYone#8204) and talk to me about ANYTHING you want. League, RP, plots, what you ate for breakfast--I would be more than happy to make another friend, and be one of your supports up that long hill.

You're enough just as you are, always.

#anon ask #mun speaks #if anyone wants advice or to talk to me about anything-- #feel free to message me in any of the above spaces! #c: We can all support eachother in this journey

[patomatix]

8th May 2020

Don't normally open up on this but here we go, there is so much more to go into but this is a start. Also, for those who I may not have responded to in the past, it's simply a bad habit and will try and get back soon. Lets go...

On Death

And then, and then, and then… It has been six years since the death of my father (Tom) and seven years and a week, my mother (Jo). It is quite strange looking back at the passage of time since, a lot of it, fragmented memories dictated by a fractal of amnesia-inducing and confusion-based decision making. My intention is to write up and try to understand more about myself in all this I guess, to try to explain what I have learnt from all this and maybe it may provide some insight for those who are going through something similar. - Not to mention the effect other passings I have experienced in my peripheries in this period, and how each loss of life has taught me individual lessons, some new and some re-iterated again, and again...

Death is quite safe. A strange way to put it, but it really is the most natural thing which we will all experience. My mother Jo spoke about her passing away with a situation she wanted to avoid as life left her, that of a barrage of people surrounding her when, clearly at the end would still say, “Its okay, you’ll get over this soon and be picking the spuds and writing songs how we used to!”. As an attempt to desperately hold on to something which will inevitably end. She said it is quite hard for someone to die with such sentiments ringing in your ears, however nice. Being given the gift of a permitted release is above all the most courageous and difficult sentiments, after all... it is quite safe.

In the years to follow such things, it is difficult to pin down how one should feel and if you are even grieving in the first place. A blurred sense of consciousness where I was functioning within a large spectrum of emotions and, at the time, alcoholic dependency. These initial stages of self-medicated use of alcohol came hand-in-hand with elements of self-harm which passed eventually. These reactions were a raw expression of an inability to understand mortality. Which I guess is understandable, following the loss of such powerful archetypes, pushing ones own physical capacity to its limits seemed like a natural route. The gloss over everything seemed to blur a solid modicum of rationality to the fringes.

Luckily, this has passed mostly, yet there still does remain a nestled sense of lack, mostly characterised by a loss of my folks’ memory, as in... what they remember. One thing I didn’t realise would take most of a hold was the loss of any ability to ask even the simplest of questions about our past, or even, their take on my experiences now. As I have now passed a certain threshold of adulthood, naturally, as well as requiring to “grow-up” quick, I would do anything to be able to curiously delve into the happenings of the past and times present with my perspective now. I have been jealous of those who have this ability and has occasionally brought me to tears, seeing even the simplest of exchanges happen between parent and their successors.

Recently, I have imagined being on the edge of life and thought back on my existence, and what comes to mind contains little physical material and mostly experiences, journeys and adventures. Mostly spent, shared. Fundamental materialism is the toxicity, of our city. Life has a funny way of taking our minds on whirlwinds of conceptual importance, easily forgetting our core nature. The tremendous sadness from loosing someone’s memories has taught me to pursue a certain, warm curiosity, with a bite, when necessary. The purpose of curiosity being for to open the doors of memories, experiences not yet learnt. Warmth, for to accept one who may be suffering and potentially haven’t even realised it.

I felt very much alone for a long time, however many people reached out. I can remember saying in conversation on the phone with someone during the hardest times of grief, how shite it was that when the phone conversation finished and the line cuts out we are essentially alone, again. Most likely I burned bridges along the way which I was completely unaware of. Life seemed to have a way of bringing in consistent waves of, “and then’s”, without mercy. When you have settled into a particular thought pattern there would always be more, somehow. In some ways if one accepts the inevitability of further, “and then’s”, it is helpful and provides a cool breeze along the shores of a convoluted metaphor.

Many years ago I found a bottle buried into the ground in Castle Park, Bristol. I was so excited to find, essentially, the meaning of life contained within. Of course I was disappointed to find nothing. Somebody suggested to write my theory of life in there. I was not sure, but ended up drawing a sine wave which represented the peaks and troughs of life in short-term consciousness.

The principle was interesting to me as this wave has an equilibrium line which runs (seemingly) straight between it. This equilibrium line, is also part of a much larger, slower, wave which represents long-term peaks and troughs.

Within daily life there will consistently be these short-term moments denoting the upward and downward curve of experience. For example: You are taking a walk, “and then...” someone gives you an ice-cream (a really fucking nice one), the short-term wave peaks, “and then…” a cyclist struggles to pass you and this ends up knocking this (really fucking nice) ice-cream out of your hands, the curve drops into a sudden trough as it drops to the ground.

Now, I really like ice-cream and I would be pissed if this happened, but the thought experiment is to experience these kind of emotions, but all the same observing yourself via this equilibrating line. This middle-way, would absolutely be comparable to the eastern non-dualism. (Google this for some tasty philosophical juice). In many ways this non-dualistic thinking is what brought me out of a few ruts, but is a troublesome philosophy to maintain, as the ensuing “and then’s” are an easy route to dip into.

(I have made a graph demonstrating this if anyone wants me to send it over)

Consciousness perceived on this level has been helpful and has taught me how it can be seen with other types of temperament, aside from a the result of a hypothetically disappointing ice-cream.

Used in high stress situations a cool disposition can be your greatest ally. For example, I was involved in a scenario when a previous boss shouted at me in a busy pub night for quite an innocent mistake which was easily resolved, their emotions were peaking at the negative crest with a rowdy furrowed brow. There were multiple options for how I could respond to them, I could have matched their peak, cowered below it, or remain within the equilibrium, which is what I did. Calmly and warmly, looking at them in the eye with not a hint of condescension, I said something along the lines of, “I understand what your are saying, and I am more than happy to sort this out, but I don’t appreciate being shouted at in this way”. The boss immediately realised of the extremity at which their polarity was exposed, they then lowered the tone and apologised profusely. To react in equal manor, with either the crest or trough is to sometimes just play along with others unnecessary social priorities, which life is much to short to deal with ay.

To pull back from my tangential predilection, these are merely some of the consequences of pursuing and trying to understand the self through death, and how life can be best fulfilled alongside our fellow brothers and sisters on planet earth.

I dearly miss the ability to communicate with my folks and still feel this lack when observing others who still have this superpower. However, I will take heed of these learnings about death as best I can and as often as I can, and always persist in maintaining the relationships I still have left with compassion, curiosity and warmth so that every moment possible is spent for the greater good for all. I will.

Wasn’t that a pile of fun.

Pat

🔥

[bndair]

((Been reading your writing and am now geeking out about Aang. Hope you don't mind me letting it all out in this ask lmao. But like, I just thought about that one scene where Roku was like "yo gimme the phone" with Jeong Jeong, and I got to thinking. Would Aang ever do that? Because I do agree with you about his less direct approach to guiding future Avatars.

And then a possibility came to mind. What if the continuing Air Nomads started warping into something more...fundamentalist, for lack of a better word? To the point that some future Avatar down the line is being refused airbending teachings due to not being an Air Nomad by blood. The Avatar. And the scene in my head was Aang making an appearance to be like "Am i enough of an Air Nomad for you?" because that sentiment just singlehandedly popped the top off of his "how much bullshit I can take" meter. I got a little carried away there, but what do you think?))

first things first , you're precious ! thank you for this. and i'm so glad you enjoy my rambling about our lil glowy marshmallow bc here's some more !!

oh , if he found out about something like that ? abso-fucking-lutely he'd go roku on them. he'd probably even use the same line !! "i have mastered the elements 1,000 times in 1,000 lifetimes. now, i must do it again. you will teach the avatar airbending." it'd likely be less aggressive / confrontational than roku was , but that also depends on the airbending master he needs to talk to and their reaction to him.

depending on the reception he gets , i think there's a few possibilities of how he'd approach it. 1) how dare you try to dictate air nomad beliefs to me. you know nothing. 2) the avatar is me , is every avatar that came before me. they are more air nomad than you. 3) i don't care what they are. the avatar must master the elements and you will teach them.

aang didn't devote a very large chuck of his life to preserving and teaching air nomad culture just to see it warped into something so exclusionary. air nomads were definitely isolationist with their temples , but i don't think of them as being an isolated people , ya know ? aang had friends all over the world before he was turned into an ice cube. the monks definitely traveled ! and , as far as i'm concerned , they were happy to share many of their thoughts, beliefs, customs, etc with interested parties. ( minus a few exceptions. they're a nice people, not a stupid people. they wouldn't knowingly teach someone who harbors ill intentions. ) so that kind of gatekeeping knowledge to anyone , but especially the avatar , double especially an air avatar would strike a cord in him. that's an immediate , visceral "oh, no you don't." catch kyoshi in the background "tell 'em, aang!"

he'll concede that there are some things that should not be shown/taught to outsiders , that should remain exclusively air nomad/air nation. so this hypothetical master is not wrong in that sense. but that does not apply here. this is not an outsider. this is the avatar. so get teachin', buddy !

#this isn't quite meta but ya know what? #in it goes #𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙖 : the past can be a great teacher #thank you nonnie! 🧡 #𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙪𝙚 : my cabbages!

[perpetual-fool]

I've been playing video games for the 'approval'.

Was considering the 'correct' way to play. Context: made a new character, ran into a minor platforming challenge that was relatively difficult using a character with no points in Dex. (Dexterity adds jump height and increases air control.) If I increase Dex it trivializes the challenge, so that's 'wrong'. If I don't increase Dex, then it's unreasonably difficult, so that's 'wrong' too. So what am I 'supposed' to do?

After untangling a very crooked train of thought; 'right' is just what people have dictated? In the case of video games, I would try to deduce developer intent by what works in a moderately challenging and exactly logically appropriate way. So like, you have just enough time to dodge when the boss attacks: probably intended. You find a corner where the boss can't hit you and you just shoot it until it dies: probably not intended. But the sense of 'rightness' is a result of punishment. Often games will be designed in such a way to explicitly make certain tactics impossible. Like, the only weapons with a high enough DPS to kill the monster before it reaches you were deliberately given terrible accuracy to cancel out the firing rate. Sabotage. Punishment. You're playing wrong and you should fucking suffer for it.

I dunno if that's an extension of real life or if I (would have) learned it from games independently.

But yeah, I've been letting games string me along for the meager scraps that actually work, the reward. 'Cause in that moment, maybe I'm not just a complete piece of shit. And the stuff that doesn't work? My fault of course, since I'm a piece of shit that doesn't understand anything and can't do anything right. Really, it's been the same kind of effect as religion, stealing away your happiness and feeding it back to you in little tiny pieces, if you've been good. If you've been compliant. (Which implies that I have something to steal?)

But I'm right, actually? The things that don't work actually are bad. No it's not just a matter of preferences or compromises. No I'm not just failing to look at it in the right way or in the right context. I've had enough experiences of being objectively proven correct to know that. (Not that this is an objective issue.)

Dunno where this is going. Other than not wasting my time on media that takes more than it gives. Applied to not-games, the problem isn't accepting that I'm right. Like, people don't gaslight me with "no this isn't bad, it's good!" They don't convince me I'm wrong, they subvert my ability to come to a position at all. Can't give you a meaningful example, as not making sense seems to be the entire point. But, "I've noticed a bad thing about guitar" "Guitars have been made this way for hundreds of years!" Non sequitur, taking a sledgehammer to my framework. Overwriting what the subject is even about. (Hm. I was considering, people declare orphaned conclusions, and then twist everything else around to fit. So like, if they say "you're being an asshole", then you just are. Whatever you were doing, that was assholery, by definition. No reasons given, usually. And the reasons don't work, they'll just find new reasons. So maybe it's that I'm looking at the actual thing, creating an actual position. And they've declared something to be true by fiat. So when my observations clash with their truth they try to twist me around to fit. But then, why create truth by forcing others to pretend their reality is what you want it to be? Surely you're subject to the cause and effect of the real world yourself?)

But uh, I guess I ought to stop letting people convince me I'm wrong about what I've stated and what my position is? Why can they do that in the first place? I guess it's peer pressure, the empty promise of belonging. But it is empty. They never give even a little bit back. So, fuck 'em?

[racingtoaredlight]

I know (and don't expect) any of you to watch this, but...

...this video is SOOOOOOOOOOO good.

I've talked about this in regards to Bream's technique before, and this guy hits on the exact same theme right away...it was "rough around the edges."

That's relative, of course. There's not much rough around the edges at all when you get to even mid-level classical guitarists, let alone an all-time motherfucker like Bream. But compared to that class of guitarists...yea, Bream was intentionally less refined and less hidebound to tradition.

Yesterday in the comparion, I mentioned how Bream was "all over the place." That was intentional, and a hallmark of his style...he'd pluck perilously close to the bridge, or almost past the soundhole near the fretboard. These are the extremes of where a guitarist would go to widen their tonal palate, and he'd go all over the place in the course of a single piece.

This is a part that I found particularly interesting...the best stuff's about his right hand, but unless you're immersed in this shit, it wouldn't make sense...but this you can see the biomechanics and understand.

A few weeks ago during a guitar lesson, my teacher was checking out how my classical technique's been developing, and the fingering I've chosen for Bach's Violin Partita III uses what the guy in the video calls "frog finger technique."

My teacher tut-tutted me about using this...my use was barring two middle strings. I should use an individual finger for each so the strings can properly vibrate. We talked about it...I played it both ways, with the exact same results. He even admitted that I sounded the same playing it both ways, but still said I should teach myself to use individual fingers instead.

We talked a little more about this...I wasn't arguing as much as thinking it through aloud...and I said "but I do this shit all the time playing jazz." Again he agreed, and we talked about how Joe Pass would use this technique all the time too.

The guy in the video mentions Bream's technique was kind of "whatever it takes to get the job done." And that's kind of the core of this thing of calling Bream's technique "blue-collar" or "workmanlike" or "weird." Because tradition dictates using individual fingers no matter if there's a viable alternative.

The reason that this "frog finger" thing isn't a big deal with steel-string guitars like Joe Pass is playing is extremely simple...the strings are closer together. It's not magic technique or talent or a million hours of practice...it's just easier because shit's closer.

But if you've got larger hands and long fingers, you can totally get this done on a classical guitar. It's far less frowned upon now to do things technique-wise that break from tradition, but it's gotta be pulled off beautifully no matter what. And if you have smaller hands and flub things using technique like this, your teacher is going to tell you to do things "properly" really quickly.

Look at how much real estate Bream is covering with his left hand here. The stretch between pinkie and index finger doesn't seem too taxing on the left hand until you realize he's leaving all the other strings open while giving himself enough room for his middle fingers to really reach out on a limb. What the middle fingers need space to be able to do requires serious spider fingers.

The reason Bream was able to "get away" with this stuff was because he was the only guitarist of that era to emerge outside of Andres Segovia's shadow. Had Segovia taght him from a young age (like John Williams or Christopher Parkening), he'd never have been allowed to develop stuff like this.

But because he was established and highly respected by the time he took a few lessons with Segovia, the Spanish godfather had too much respect for Bream to really say much at all. The proof was in the pudding all along.

I don't know how to wrap this up, so that's all for today in "things I find interesting."

#Youtube

[lilyevanstan1325]

🔥 Dangerous Game 🔥

Chapter 18

Amaya POV

A light knock on the door makes me jump, awakening me from my thoughts.

I cautiously approach the door with my heart beating madly and open it the face of my best friend appears in front of me.

With her clear eyes and her sly smile on her lips she looks at me as if she knew perfectly well what is going through my head right now.

"Fuck!You scared me" I reply while the echo of my heart still echoes frantically in my ears.

Nat just crosses her arms over her chest and watches me in silence.

I raise an eyebrow.

"What?" I ask, hammering my thumb between my teeth, anxious to quickly close the door.

Natasha sighs in exasperation, rolling her eyes and then she pushes me aside to enter my room.

I am going to close the door quickly.

Still remaining in religious silence, she approaches my bed and takes a seat on it.

She's already wearing her pajamas and her hair is wrapped up in big curlers.

Tomorrow Natasha will finally marry the love of her life and tonight, as tradition dictates, she will stay away from her future husband.

So we will spend the night together.

"You didn't join our welcome committee.You didn't join us for dinner.Are you going to be locked in this room forever?" my best friend asks me, looking at me with the smile of someone who knows a lot.

"You know I'm getting married tomorrow and I would like the ass of my bridesmaid and best friend to be next to me at the altar" she adds.

What a fool.

As if I could ever miss her wedding.

"Don't be stupid Romanoff.Of course I'll be there tomorrow" I answer, approaching the mirror and finishing wrapping the last strands of hair around the rollers.

Natasha is behind me but I can see her reflection in the mirror in front of me.

She sits better on my bed lying on her stomach and letting her beautiful legs swing in the air.

She puts her hands under her chin and tilts her head to the side, looking at me with an expression that is a little too amused for my taste.

"You know that sooner or later you'll have to see him again, right?If I remember correctly he is still the best man.You won't be able to avoid him forever" she murmurs as she searches for the reflection of my eyes in the mirror.

I meet her gaze for just a moment then I immediately bring it back to my hair.

"Don't talk nonsense.I'm not avoiding anyone" I replied, flaunting an Oscar-worthy confidence.

"Really?"

"Nat stop it...these games don't work with me" I warn her.

I honestly don't feel like talking about him right now.

"What a shame.Because he seemed really disappointed that you weren't there to greet him"

Natasha stands up and joins me helping me with the last strands behind.

I sigh and lowering my eyes I ask Natasha "How are him?How did him seem to you?"

I don't get any response.

I feel Nat's hands tinkering with my hair, she fixes the last curler and then she wraps my head with a silk handkerchief to ensure that the hair takes shape and does not get damaged.

I observe her gestures enraptured by the skill of her expert fingers.

Then our eyes are chained.

"He seems to be fine.And definitely more muscular and oh!He has grown his hair, now it brushes his shoulders.I have to say that he is really charming" says Nat.

I just nod, looking for an answer to give.

"Well...I...fine.I'm happy for him"

Natasha puts her hands on my shoulders and squeezes them affectionately.

Her red nails stand out against the white of my tank top.

"If I asked you something would you be honest with me?"

I nod knowing already that I will regret it.

"Think of it as a wedding present for me" she chuckles at trying to convince me.

I laugh with her.

Then she turns serious and her smile fades from her lips.

"Are you still in love with Barnes?"

I close my eyes and squeeze them tightly.

God knows how many people have asked me the same question.

But she is Natasha.

My best friend.

What I consider to all intents and purposes as a sister.

The only one that has left me free to process my pain in recent months.

Her more than anyone else deserve my honesty.

"Yes" I whisper in a breath voice as I feel a tear roll down my cheek.

I open my eyes and Natasha is looking at me with a very sweet expression, the same expression that a mother would reserve for her little girl.

I can't hold so much love and I look down on my hands and moving away from her grip on my shoulders I sit on my bed.

I let out a disconsolate sigh.

"But that doesn't matter Nat.He now doesn't want to know anything more and that's right.I was mean to him.I forced him to abandon this place, to abandon his family.I certainly don't expect him to feel anything for me yet.And then Sam confirmed what I think"

"Sam?What did he tell you?" asks Natasha curiously, joining me on the bed.

I turn in her direction.

"Bucky specifically told him that anyone could call him as long as they never told him about me and what I do"

I shrug.

I try to keep a neutral expression even if at the moment I just want to scream.

I was a fool and now it's too late.

It's too late.

Natasha says nothing and I smile.

"I think he said the same thing to you too.Don't make that face!I know very well that you too have called him often.You're friends, it's completely normal"

I giggle at her guilty expression.

"In my opinion he didn't want us to talk to him about you just because it makes him suffer" the former Russian spy tries to console me.

"Or he's mad at me.He said some horrible things to me when he left.Horrible but true.You should have seen the pain in his eyes.I hurt him too much Nat, there is no longer any future for the two of us" I whisper.

I feel a lump in my throat.

Natasha stands up and looking at me from above she smiles at me with renewed optimism.

"I repeat what I have been telling you for months.Talk to each other.Now that time has healed your wounds a little, you just have to talk to each other.There is still a lot of love between you.It's not over!I'm sure" she approaches the bedroom door and opens it a few inches.

"Anyway, no more sadness now.I'm going to get some snacks and something to drink, we have a very long list of things to do on my last night as a free woman" adds Nat winking at me and leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Over the past six months, I've been focusing a lot on myself.

I went to the analysis and thanks to Doctor Tancredi I managed to deal with many of my unsolved problems.

I was able to mourn and free myself from the ghosts of my past.

Including Bucky too.

I had the ability and strength to analyze my feelings for him by understanding how madly I am still in love with him.

But I never got to the next step.

Talk to him.

I lied to the doctor saying I would do it in attendance when he returned to New York.

But now that he's really here, in the room across from mine, I don't even have the courage to walk out of my room.

God only knows how the hell I'll do tomorrow.

Tomorrow I will be forced to see him again, we will be together at the altar.

We will be forced to interact and I absolutely don't know what the hell to do.

I throw myself on the bed only to get up right away to keep my hair from getting crushed.

Damn curlers.

I wait patiently for Nat to return even though she is taking too long.

I approach the door determined to go find her when I hear giggling in the hallway.

I approach, leaning my ear against the door.

"Hey you!What the hell are you doing?Steve goes back to your room and you go back to yours"

I close my eyes.

It's Bucky's voice.

"Ugh!You're a pain in the ass Barnes!" Natasha exclaims.

I can imagine her adorable pout.

"Stop that!It is only for one night.Tomorrow you will have plenty of time to flirt.Now go away Romanoff!" he exclaims.

His words are followed by a slamming door.

I open the door and put my hands on my hips looking at her with an incredulous frown.

She just shrugs and goes back into the room.

"We were just kissing" she justifies herself.

I smile.

Steve and Natasha are truly inseparable.

I know it may seem exaggerated but I am perfectly aware that this night that they will have to pass apart will not be easy for them.

"Come on Juliet!Tomorrow you will have your Romeo all to yourself" I tell her, giggling and pushing her against the sofa where we will spend a few hours watching a list of romantic films.

I smile thinking back to when Natasha called me Juliet.

It was the next morning that I spent the night with Bucky for the first time.

"Go headed Juliet, I have to have a chat with your Romeo" she told me.

And in the end, just like the two unfortunate lovers, we never got our happy ending.

While we watch TV we put on polish and get lost in futile chatter.

Between laughter and excited tears we spend the evening in total serenity.

I get up from the sofa stretching my back and yawning, Nat imitates my gestures.

"It's really late.Maybe we should go to sleep" I suggest.

I would never want Natasha to arrive at the church tomorrow with dark circles from having little sleep.

My friend checks the clock on the wall and she agrees with me.

Together we lay down on the bed.

"Natasha?"

"Tell me?" she replies with a yawn.

"How does it feel to marry the love of your life?"

The redhead next to me chuckles turning on her side.

I put myself in the same position as her.

Face to face, even though the room is half dark, I can see a radiant smile spread across her face.

"It's the best feeling in the world.Try to imagine a hot bath, your favorite pizza and a night of stratospheric sex.Do you know the emotions you would feel in every single moment?Well, add it all up and multiply it by a thousand and you get what I feel right now.It is joy, excitement and serenity.It's the right thing to do"

My skin shivers at her words.

I take advantage of the darkness to allow the tears to flow from my eyes and die suffocated on the white cotton of the sheets.

I try to stifle my pain but a slight treacherous sob bares me.

"I miss Bucky.I miss him so much" I sob.

I admit it hiding my face in my hands.

Natasha immediately gets up on one elbow turning on the light of the lamp on the bedside table.

"Oh honey, please don't make me cry" my best friend sniffles.

"Come here" she tells me, drawing me to her and making me rest my head on her chest.

"I'm sorry Nat, I'm really so sorry.This night is supposed to be for you...I don't want to spoil it with my problems" I whimper at her on her soft chest.

Her sweet vanilla scent makes me feel protected, safe.

"Don't say that" my best friend scolds me.

"You are my best friend and you must never hide your true feelings from me.Never.It's clear?"

We remain silent as Natasha continues to caress my back with slow and gentle movements.

But the silence is interrupted by Natasha's voice, she talks with her lips resting on my hair.

"You have to tell him Amaya.And there is no better chance than tomorrow"

I sigh, barely nodding.

Life is so funny.

He loved me and I hated him.

Now I love him and he no longer.

Right person at the wrong time.

This seems to be the mantra of my life.

We both slowly slip into a deep sleep.

When I open my eyes, the sun's rays are powerfully lighting up the room.

I turn to my left side and the first thing I see is Natasha.

She is still sleeping.

She is on her stomach and her arms under the pillow, she snores lightly making me laugh.

I grab my phone to check the time.

It is 11 in the morning.

Okay, it's time to get up.

The wedding will be at 3pm so we still have plenty of time to prepare.

I get up and go to the bathroom and begin to get rid of all the curlers.

I am already anxiously thinking about everything I have to do.

Stark said he will send a car to pick up me and Natasha at 1pm.

From the tower to the cute little church that the two future spouses have chosen it will take about an hour, this will ensure that we will arrive in an hour of advance and we will be able to finish dressing and getting ready in all calm.

My hair falls soft and wavy on my shoulders and with my fingers I arrange the locks in an orderly manner.

No hairstyle for me, I'll just wear a pearl headband and little old pink silk roses that will recall the bride's bouquet.

I switch to makeup leaving it as natural as possible in order to be in harmony with the simplicity of the dress.

I will wear a long one-shoulder dress in soft antique pink silk.

It will have a wide skirt, with a slit that will rise above the knee and a pearl belt positioned just below my breasts.

On my feet I will wear jeweled sandals with a vertiginous heel.

I look in the mirror losing myself for a moment in old and sweet memories of Bucky.

For a moment, for a single moment, the memories don't hurt and I bask in them with pleasure.

I remember that wonderful evening when Bucky took me to that wonderful restaurant on the Hudson.

And the sex that came after.

God!

The sex with Bucky.

That was the best night of my life.

I smile sadly and take a deep breath I force myself and go back to the room where my friend is still sleeping.

I take off my pajamas and wear a black tank top and a pair of black shorts, a comfortable and easy outfit to take off without ruining my make-up and hair.

I look at the clock.

There are a few minutes to noon.

I approach Nat sitting next to her.

"Hey Sleeping Beauty!It's time to get up.Your prince is waiting for you" I whisper softly to her.

Her eyes flicker a little and then slowly reopen.

She rolls onto her back and stretching her arms upwards she yawns loudly.

"What time is it?" she asks me rubbing her eyes.

"Twelve o'clock.The car will be here in an hour.Let's get up, I'll help you" and so extending my hand I help her get up and we go to the bathroom where I help her with her hair and make-up.

"God Natasha!You're beautiful" I whimper trying not to cry, I don't want me to run my mascara and then find myself forced to do it all over again.

Natasha looks in the mirror with a radiant smile on her face and shining eyes.

Her gorgeous red hair is pulled up high in a composed and elegant bun.

In her hair, here and there, there are small pearls to embellish them.

The makeup is simple except for a shiny red lipstick.

I dubbed it the Natasha Romanoff touch.

"Thanks Amaya" she whispers turning and hugging me.

"You don't have to thank me.You are beautiful, I have not done anything" I replied.

I walk away from her, gently stroking her face with my fingertips.

"Come on and dress up!It's almost time to go" I tell her and after a few moments JARVIS's voice resounds in the air.

"Agent Snow?The car sent by Mr. Stark has just arrived"

"Thanks JARVIS.We arrive immediately"

Nat and I exchange a look, emotion and joy shine through our faces.

We are almost there.

When we arrive in the Church there is already a notable coming and going of people.

"How many guests did you say there will be?" I ask as I help my friend into her wonderful dress.

"A hundred" she replies as she tries to push her head through the neckline of her dress without ruining her hair.

Wow.

One hundred.

I would have already panicked and instead she seems calm.

Indeed almost impatient to be admired by everyone.

I go down and lifting her skirt, I help her and put on her shoes.

They are wonderful sandals by Jimmy Choo, in white leather with band and ankle strap decorated with precious pearls of various sizes.

A show.

I get up and putting myself behind her I see the real show.

Natasha is absolutely stunning.

All eyes and hearts will be for her today.

She wears a full satin mermaid gown, her sweetheart bodice is covered with delicate lace and embellished with small pearls.

Her back is totally uncovered.

She looks like a goddess.

"Natasha you are a charm" I whispered trying to hold back the tears.

"Please Amaya don't start.Don't make me cry already" Nat laughs but her eyes are wet.

I grab her long veil, all trimmed with the same lace as her dress, and go up to her.

"I can not believe.You are about to marry your Steve" I tell her sincerely moved.

Her smile, if possible, becomes even wider.

"I know it.I'm about to marry my Steve" she exclaims excitedly.

When I'm about to start pinning the veil over her head the door swings open.

A blonde girl in a dress the same as mine enters all out of breath.

"Thank God I arrived in time" exclaims the girl.

She approaches Natasha and hugs her with extreme caution, careful not to ruin anything.

"You are really beautiful bol'shaya sestra" she whispers leaving her a kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks mladshaya sestra" replies my friend.

I observe them while remaining on the sidelines.

The two women smile.

Natasha turns to me.

"She is Yelena.I told you about her"

How stupid I am.

Obviously the beautiful girl with a Russian accent could only be her sister.

I go over and shake her hand.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Amaya"

She smiles.

"I finally know you.Natasha told me a lot about you"

I laugh.

"I hope she only told you good things"

"Mostly gossip of a loving nature" Yelena replies, laughing.

I roll my eyes.

Great.

"Where are Melina and Alexei?" Natasha asks her sister.

"They're chatting with Steve and the others"

I see Nat's face tinged with a faint shade of red.

"Please tell me Alexei is not embarrassing me" she murmurs desperately.

Yelena laughs.

"No more than usual...but don't worry, Melina is keeping him in a kennel.Let's just say that at the moment he is particularly excited to meet Captain America and to become his father-in-law" giggles the blonde giving me a wink.

I join her laugh.

Someone else knocks on the door catching our attention.

An extremely beautiful woman, dark hair and captivating eyes, enters the room followed by a tall, stout man.

Both are very elegant.

They are undoubtedly Natasha's adoptive parents.

"My beautiful little girl!" the woman exclaims blowing her nose with a small cloth handkerchief.

The man reaches Natasha and gently grabs her face in her hands.

"You are beautiful moy rebenok.I'm proud of you" he tells her.

If before I thought that Yelena's accent was marked, now that I have heard Alexei speak, I have to change my mind.

Melina turns to me.

"Hello dear, you must be Amaya"

I nod embarrassed, I feel like a stranger who is spying on intimate and private moments.

"Yes Mrs. Shostakov, it's me"

"Oh please call me Melina" she said with a sweet smile.

Alexei approaches me holding me in a bear hug.

I reciprocate feeling totally embarrassed.

I look for Natasha with my eyes but she and Yelena are enjoying my embarrassment giggling like two little girls.

Alexei breaks the hug and with his deep voice says to me "Welcome to our weird family"

I blush at this unexpected display of affection.

"Natasha told me that you are great friends, she considers you as a sister so now you are part of our family" adds Alexei kissing my cheek.

"Ok ok!Let her breathe.She is not used to so many compliments" Nat intervenes, giving me a hand.

Finally I would add.

I look at the clock.

"Nat is time.Let's hurry" I whisper, feeling my stomach tighten with emotion.

My best friend is about to get married.

And you're about to see Bucky again adds my conscience persistently.

"Wait honey.Before we went, we brought you a small gift" Melina murmurs excitedly, taking a small box out of her bag.

"Something blue, as tradition dictates" she adds with her eyes full of love as she observes her little girl who has now become a woman.

I feel an immense sadness assail me.

I will never have my mom and dad by my side, I won't see them get excited for me and look at me with their loving eyes.

I shake my head trying to put this thought aside and bring my attention back to Natasha who is opening her present.

Inside the box there are a pair of earrings, they are two sapphires surrounded by a string of diamonds.

"These were from my mother, babushka Raisa.Now they are yours" Melina whispers helping her to put them on.

For the first time, Natasha allows herself to cry.

She hugs her parents with enthusiasm, whispering in a faint voice "Spasibo mama i papa.Ya lyublyu vas"

Yelena wipes a tear.

"I'm sorry to interrupt this moment but we have to go" I whisper feeling guilty.

Everyone tries to compose himself and Melina leaves the room to take her seat.

I go up behind Natasha and with the help of Yelena I put her veil hooking it tightly in her hair.

"Amaya you will go out first.Yelena you will follow her after eight seconds" Natasha explains again.

She then turns to her father grabbing his arm.

"Hold me tight papa"

"Always moy rebenok"

I sigh and after giving her her bouquet I grab mine and leave the small room.

Right in front of me are the heavy wooden doors that will lead me inside the chapel.

A girl approaches me.

"Is the bride ready?" she asks me politely.

I nod because suddenly my voice seems to disappear.

My hands just tremble.

The girl smiles at me and approaches the door opening it.

All heads turn to me and I find hundreds of eyes on me.

I feel like I'm panicking but then suddenly, in the middle of that sea of people, I see him.

Bucky.

My heart does a somersault.

His clear and sweet gaze helps me calm down and I make my entrance walking slowly.

The gaze always in that of the man who I have missed more than anything else in the last six months.

Natasha was right.

Bucky really looks more muscular, the elegant jacket pulls indecently over his broad shoulders.

His long hair is tied in a low bun that touches the nape of his neck.

His face, always covered with a light layer of beard, is now smooth.

His square jaw looks even more perfect, it seems almost carved in marble.

The high and perfect cheekbones.

My God he's beautiful to hurt.

Arriving at the altar, I smile at Steve and take my place.

Yelena arrives right after me.

The music in the air changes, Wagner's wedding march fills our ears and a wonderful Natasha enters.

Steve's eyes fill with tears, I see him struggling with them but eventually gives up.

He tilts his head forward running the back of his hand over his face to wipe away the tears.

Bucky pats him on the back and the two men share an excited smile.

Natasha advances slowly and majestically on her father's arm, who smiles proudly.

They are both moved and Nat melts into an emotionally cry.

Arriving at the altar, Alexei takes her daughter's hand, placing it on Steve's big and strong one.

"Here you go Captain.Take care of my little girl" he tells him.

His voice, even if strong and gruff, resounds full of love.

"I'll do it sir" Steve replies.

The truth in his words is tangible.

The two lovebirds position themselves facing each other holding hands.

The ceremony finally begins.

Bucky's eyes immediately return to me and he just looks at me.

The look of him embarrasses me but also feeds the fire inside me.

I try to concentrate elsewhere but I often find myself observing him and our eyes meet for brief moments.

The priest asks for the rings but the rings do not arrive.

Steve and Natasha turn to Bucky but he doesn't seem to be there at the moment, his eyes are on me.

Sam, next to him, gives him a shove.

"Man!The rings!" he whispers between his teeth.

Bucky looks like waking up and suddenly rummaging around in his pockets for the rings.

"Sergeant Barnes was too busy eating you with his eyes" Yelena whispers, leaning towards me.

I blush full of shame.

Then I'm not the only one who noticed it.

Natasha turns to me rolling her eyes and I just shrug.

The priest takes the rings and picks up where he left off.

Bucky's gaze comes back to me and I can't help but roll my eyes and smile, his gaze lights up and gives me one of his most beautiful smiles.

If I continue like this I risk fainting, I have to try to give myself an attitude.

I force myself to direct my gaze elsewhere, carefully avoiding the man next to the groom.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife.Now you can kiss the bride" finally exclaims the priest.

Steve gives a toothy smile and grabbing Natasha's face he kisses her passionately.

He puts so much vehemence into it that he forces her to bend backwards.

A chorus of applause and whistles rise from the crowd witnessing this bond of love.

I too find myself applauding as I let myself be taken by emotion.

"Here" Yelena whimpers handing me a handkerchief.

"Thanks" I reply, sniffing.

Now comes the hardest part.

Yelena and I have to go back down the aisle but on the arm of the two men next to Steve.

While Yelena will have to advance on Sam's arm, I'll have to do it with Bucky.

I am sweating with anxiety, I feel my legs trembling as if they were made of jelly.

Natasha approaches me and I take the opportunity to hug her.

"Congratulations honey" I tell her as she continues to hold me against her body.

"Did you see how he looked at you?" she asks letting me go.

"Nat don't fantasize in that beautiful little head of yours" I tease her trying to divert her attention from this speech.

Steve joins us.

"Babe we have to go" he tells her then he walks up to me and hugs me.

"Congratulations Captain.But I warn you...make her suffer and there will be no safe place in the world where you can hide" I tell him with a chuckle.

Even though he knows perfectly well that I'm serious.

"Is a threat Snow?" he teases me by putting his arm around his beautiful wife's shoulders.

"Oh no...I don't threaten anyone.Mine is a promise"

So saying I wink at him and take my position waiting for my knight to join me.

And not even after a couple of seconds Bucky comes by my side.

We look into each other's eyes for an infinite moment.

After what seems like an eternity, Bucky speaks to me for the first time in six months.

"Hi Amaya"

Hi.

A simple hi has the power to leave me numb and speechless.

It is as if the world around us has disappeared and it is just the two of us.

"Hi James" I whisper with a parched mouth.

In his gaze a flash of lust shines for a moment and his gaze touches briefly my lips.

This is not the time.

I look away from his face and grabbing his arm we walk out of the chapel followed by Sam and Yelena.

Once outside, I immediately let go of his forearm, firm and hard as a rock and dispersed in the crowd.

I can't deal with it, I can't.

I thought seeing him would be easier and instead I find myself suffocated by my own feelings.

Bucky did nothing but look at me with a happy, relaxed look.

Often lustful.

I was convinced that I would find anger in his eyes, resentment...and instead there is only peace.

And that only means one thing.

He has moved on.

What he felt six months ago, that painful love that led him to go away, seems to have disappeared.

Sam was right, Bucky just needed time to forget and in the end he did.

As soon as the bride and the groom set foot outside, they are overwhelmed by a myriad of rose petals and a shower of rice.

And amid the applause and whistles of friends and relatives, the two newlyweds get lost in a kiss full of love.

The wedding party takes place in a wonderful garden around a beautiful Victorian style villa.

Hundreds of white lights hanging everywhere, between the trees and the small gazebos, illuminate everything outside.

Under a beautiful white gazebo a small orchestra plays live music and a dance floor opens in front of them.

Scattered throughout the garden there are dozens and dozens of tables, where the waiters hurry to arrange the last details before the dinner begins.

The evening goes wonderfully.

Everything is perfect and even if it wasn't, it would have been enough to look at the radiant smile of the newlyweds to make everything wonderful.

Between good food and good company I spend the evening happily, in the end even Fury found the time to join us.

"It was all very good!" Sam exclaims unbuttoning his jacket, then turns to me.

"So?" he asks me.

"So what?" I reply feeling caught off guard.

Sam laughs and crosses his arms over his chest.

"Did you and your Sergeant talk?"

I move uncomfortably in my chair grabbing my glass of wine from which I take a couple of sips.

"Mmh mmh" I nod avoiding to look him in the eye.

"Oh yes?And what did you say?" Sam looks curious at me.

Damn gossipy.

"Hi"

"Hi?"

"Yep.We said hi in the Church" I reply knowing that now I'll have to put up with his lectures.

"Are you fucking kidding me Amaya?Hi?Hi it's not talking" Sam replies, shaking his head disconsolately.

"What do you want me to do?Do you want me to go there and tell him Hey Bucky, are you alright?Oh by the way...I love you!C'mon man!" I exclaim in exasperation.

Sam's eyes light up and the smile on his face widens out of proportion.

I bite my bottom lip.

Damn.

"So...you love him, huh?" he teases me.

Sam can be really annoying when he wants to.

"Wilson I often wonder if your brain stopped developing around the age of five" I snort crossing my arms in front of my breasts and turning my gaze away.

Steve and Natasha are seated at their table and right between the two is Bucky who is laughing with amusement right now.

For a moment his gaze rises and latches onto mine.

It all takes a fraction of a moment but my heart rate skyrockets.

With red cheeks and shortness of breath I look back at Sam who obviously hasn't lost anything of what just happened.

He shakes his head as he stands, buttons his jacket again and holds out his hand to me.

"Let's go dance Snow"

I know I have no other choice so huffing I accept his invitation.

We approach the dance floor where some couples dance tightly, exchanging kisses and words of love.

"If you want a kiss just ask" winks Sam.

"When hell freezes Wilson" I reply, rolling my eyes.

He laughs and makes me do a pirouette and then rewinds me into his arms.

I laugh carefree.

We keep rocking and giggling at trivial things, then Sam's eyes turn serious.

Here comes the good friend advice.

"You know I love you, right Amaya?"

"Yes, I know.I love you too" I reply taken by surprise by his words.

"And you also know I want you to be happy"

I nod.

"Then go to him.I beg you.Talk to each other.Give him a good reason not to go back to Wakanda" Sam encourages me looking for my gaze that unwittingly landed on Bucky's figure.

From this angle I can see his profile as he sips champagne from a flute and chats with Fury.

Fury?

Shit!

Who knows what the hell is saying to him...let's hope that at least he has the decency to keep his mouth shut on me.

"We all just want you and Bucky to be happy.And you can only be truly happy if you are together"

I turn my attention back to my friend.

"When will he go away?"

"Tomorrow"

I am astonished for a moment.

Tomorrow.

This means I only have a few hours to decide my entire future.

"For once don't let your head choose.Follow your heart Snow" Sam whispers to me and then hugs me and continues our dance.

Once the song is over, Sam takes his leave with a hand kiss to which I respond amusedly with a laugh.

I walk away from the dance floor through the immense garden.

I stop near a small body of water.

The party lights shine on the black and shiny water, making it similar to a night sky studded with stars.

Footsteps behind me startle me in fright.

"Excuse me.I didn't mean to scare you" Bucky whispers behind me.

I rest a hand on my heart which, if before it was beating furiously with fear, now paws relentlessly at his proximity.

"Don't worry, it's nothing"

We stand motionless facing each other.

What we have become.

It hurts to think that once we were one another's world and now instead we look at each other embarrassed as if we were perfect strangers.

Bucky clears his throat.

"As the best man it is my duty to pester the maid of honor to steal a ball from her.What do you say?"

I feel like my head is underwater and his words ring out muffled and confused in my ears.

I remain to observe him without answering.

Bucky smiles.

"So?Would you agree to dance with me?Or do I have to worry about Lucas coming up behind me to hit me?" he chuckles amused.

"Who?" I ask confused for a moment.

Bucky seems taken aback by my reaction.

"Lucas, your boyfriend"

Oh.

OH.

Lucas.

Bucky doesn't know.

"Lucas is no longer my boyfriend.It ended a long time ago between us"

Bucky drops his arms to his sides.

"Why?" he asks genuinely amazed.

Because I love you I would like to scream at him but I just look down at my hands.

"Sorry!None of my business.Excuse me" he hastens to tell me immediately.

But then he finds his smile again and holds out his hand to me.

"Do you want to dance with me?"

I look at his hand and without thinking I grab it.

Bucky pulls me towards his body, our fingers intertwined and his free arm wraps around my hips as I put my free hand on his arm and squeeze his bicep.

From where we are the music is barely noticeable but it doesn't matter, we still begin to rock gently.

At first we remain silent, each of us is lost in their own thoughts.

What do you think my handsome Sergeant?

Are you thinking of me?

Do you also have that irrepressible desire to exchange a kiss?

I look up at his face, his gaze is light years away so I take the opportunity to observe his face always so perfect.

The curve of his nose and that small dimple on his chin are the portrait of perfection.

The square jaw reminds me of those Greek Gods who were painted by skilled artists.

His lips are perfect, plump and full of sin.

Lips that have taken me to heaven countless times.

I look up and meet his eyes.

Did he notice that I was staring at him?

Bucky licks his lips and I feel my legs melt.

"How are you Amaya?"

I shrug.

"I survive.You know"

Liar.

I am a very big liar.

I feel bad.

I would like to answer him sincerely.

I'm sick, please embrace me and relieve all my pains.

Love me and give me the breath I need to live.

"I'm going to analysis" I whisper.

Bucky smiles at me softly.

"It's helping me a lot.I was skeptical I have to admit...but in the end it's the right choice I could have made" I admit.

"And you?How are you?"

Bucky laughs.

"Next question?"

I laugh with him.

"But that was the easy question" I tease him making him laugh again.

We remain silent again.

"I survive.You know" Bucky whispers after a few moments of silence using my own words.

We are both a disaster, no doubt about it...just a perfect couple.

"But I made a new friend" he adds smiling.

"Really?" I ask incredulously.

Bucky isn't much for new acquaintances.

A bit like me on the other hand.

"Yeah.He's a cat"

I raise an eyebrow.

"A cat?"

"Yeah, a cat.His name is Alpine"

We look into each other's eyes and burst out laughing.

"I know, I admit it.I'm more desperate than I look" Bucky chuckles.

When the echo of our laughter fades into the air, we stare into each other's eyes for a few minutes, always continuing to rock to the rhythm of our hearts.

"We can start over from here" Bucky whispers.

"We can be friends" he adds.

Friends.

Such a beautiful word but which in this context is like a blasphemy to God.

I swallow my tears and smile weakly at him.

"Friends" I repeat in a whisper.

My hand that had hitherto gripped his muscular bicep moves towards his warm chest, my thumb rubbing just where, underneath the shirt, is the scar from the bullet hole he took for me.

I watch my thumb caress the white fabric of his shirt as I feel his gaze burn on me.

Friends.

We can never be friends.

I look up again and find his eyes burning like two embers.

A lock of hair escapes from his bun and my hand in a completely automatic gesture is raised to bring that soft and dark lock behind his ear.

I linger with my hand on his face and Bucky tilts his head to the side, rocking in my touch.

When I'm about to push my hand away Bucky stops it, gripping my wrist with his cold Vibranium hand.

A shiver runs through my back and despite the warm and pleasant evening my skin is covered with chills.

Bucky closes his eyes and turning his head to the side kisses the palm of my hand still motionless on his face.

It would take me so little to kiss him and yet I don't.

The fear of rejection is too great and the resulting pain would be unbearable.

"James" I murmured in a choked voice.

"Just friends" he repeats remaining with his eyes closed.

He intertwines his fingers in Vibranium with mine and moves both hands over his heart which beats furiously.

Could he feel the same pain as me right now?

Maybe he too feels devoured by the desire to hold me in his arms?

Bucky slowly reaches down towards me and my heart skips a beat.

Is he going to kiss me?

I close my eyes shaken by emotions of all kinds that overlap each other.

Anxiety, love, excitement, fear.

But that contact never comes.

I feel his forehead gently resting against mine.

"Just friends" he repeats in a whisper and his sweet breath breaks on my face.

I feel my eyes fill with tears.

I just move away to look for his eyes...and I find them.

They look at me with such intensity as to make me melt like snow in the sun.

I wet my lips, Bucky follows my gesture and his eyes seem to burn with primitive passion.

Furious.

Like an animal.

"James I..."

"Hey kid, here you are!" exclaims a voice behind us.

"Barnes stop hitting on the bridesmaid and come with me.The bride and the groom are about to make their speech and then it will be up to you two" Stark informs us.

Bucky walks away from me laughing in amusement at Tony's words.

Leaving me dazed and confused.

"Thanks for the dance" he murmurs and then follows Tony as he strides away.

So did it all happen in my head?

That friends wasn't to convince himself.

It was a warning to me.

To remind me that there will never be anything between us.

It is as if my world collapsed for the umpteenth time.

I'm a fool, a deluded fool.

Did I really believe he could still have feelings for me?

After everything I've done to him.

After how I treated it.

I deserve all of this.

It's all my fault, I and only I am the architect of all this.

Maybe he was so sweet and kind to me just because the others, knowing how much I suffer for him, pushed him to do so.

His was just pity towards me.

I grab my head in my hands bending forward, I feel annihilated by the pain and even breathing becomes difficult.

I feel so humiliated.

Now I would just like to go back to the tower and lock myself in my room to get drunk until I pass out...but I can't do it.

This is not about me, tonight is for Steve and Natasha and I have to be a good friend.

I try to compose myself and go back to my table.

Steve has risen from his seat and with a flute of champagne in his hands addresses everyone present.

"I'd just like to thank everyone for being here with us tonight.It is truly wonderful to share our joy with all of you.Together with our families and our friends.But a special thanks goes to you my love" says Steve turning his full attention to Natasha.

She smiles softly at him with her eyes clouded with tears.

"I have to thank you if today I am the man I am.I've always felt like an empty shell, and I really was before I met you, you who have become my precious pearl.You have given meaning to my life again and I make you one promise.I promise you that I will spend every day of my life making your every single breath special because I am aware that I can never repay you for all the love you give me.I wouldn't even be able to do it if I lived a thousand more lives" Steve concludes as he sits down again and hugs his beautiful bride.

I feel my eyes fill with tears.

Steve's words were truly beautiful.

Every whisper of that man exudes devoted and unconditional love for Natasha.

Now it is the turn of us to speak...and the beautiful speech I had prepared seems to have evaporated from my brain.

I'm still too stunned by what happened with Bucky before.

The same Bucky who is now rising to his feet unaware of the pain that rages like a storm in my heart.

Unaware of the excruciating pain I am experiencing.

"I've known Steve since we were just kids.None of you were born yet at the time" he adds, making the guests laugh.

"I was six, Steve was seven, and a bunch of older kids were beating him up.I don't know why but I intervened, I was small but I asserted myself.We have never separated since that day.And even if our paths split at some point, today we are still here.And now since I'm tired and too old for certain things, I give the baton to you Natasha.Now it's gonna be your turn to save his old and stubborn ass" Bucky chuckles.

Natasha smiles at her friend and then turns to Steve only to leave him a light caress on his face.

Bucky continues.

"So tonight I want to toast to friendship and love and I want to wish you a bright future.May every day of your life be spectacular" Bucky exclaims as he raises his glass in the air.

Everyone imitates him by raising their glasses and exclaiming "To friendship and love"

Now it's my turn.

I feel paralyzed with fear.

Sam strokes my back softly.

"If you don't feel like it, that's okay.I don't think Nat will blame you" he whispers, leaning slightly towards me.

I shake my head.

I have to do it.

Natasha is my best friend.

I stand up, make eye contact with Bucky's but turn it away immediately, turning to my two friends who today have finally crowned their dream of love.

"Steve.Natasha.You know that I am not good with words and I do not hide from you that at this moment I would like a hole to open under me and swallow me"

Natasha and Steve laugh heartily as well as the rest of the guests.

"It is useless for me to be here to praise your love because it is so palpable, so intense that it is impossible not to perceive it.I just want to say thank you.Thank you because you are an example of love and friendship.An example of devotion, honesty and faithfulness.You are my example of love.You two have something unique and rare.You have what I want for me someday.If I can I would like to give you some advice as a gift.The same advice my mother gave me many years ago.Talk.Always talk.Never let anyone or anything come between you and if you find a problem talk about it.Face it.Don't hide behind the masks of pride and anger.Love is precious.Never take yourself for granted.Never.I love you with all my heart guys and I wish you the best that this crazy life can offer you" I conclude with a strangled voice.

I don't want to cry in front of all these people, I don't want to cry in front of all my friends.

I don't want them to worry about me anymore.

I'm tired of being a burden to everyone.

So I just smile and raise my glass in the air.

Natasha gets up and comes to hug me.

We both let ourselves go to a consoling cry.

"Thanks Amaya.I love you"

"I love you too Nat" I reply in a whisper.

I release our embrace and Nat goes back to Steve.

Together they head to the dance floor for their first husband and wife dance.

The ceremony and the celebrations were a success and I think it's time for me to go.

I move to walk away from my table when a hand rests on my shoulder.

I turn around to find a man I know well in front of me.

"Wouldn't you give your old man a dance?"

I laugh heartily accepting the hand he is extending to me.

"So you admit you're old, huh?" I tease Fury by making him roll his eyes.

He laughs with a shake of his head, just like a father would do in front of his sassy little girl.

"I didn't know you could dance Nick" I giggle amused.

"I have many hidden talents Agent Snow" murmurs my mentor giving me one of his rare smiles.

We swing in place while remaining silent.

"Nick?"

"Tell me Amaya?"

"What were you saying to Bucky earlier?I saw you talking" I ask in a faint voice.

Almost embarrassed.

Fury laughs.

"Don't worry...I just reminded him that if he dared to hurt you again I would look for him anywhere in the world and when I found him he would regret the HYDRA times"

He says it with so much seriousness that I can't help but laugh.

A heartfelt laugh.

"Like father like daughter" I tell him smiling.

Fury raises an eyebrow at my statement.

"Let's say I made a similar promise to Steve today.You have a bad influence on me Mr. Director" I reply pointing a finger at his chest.

Fury rolls his eyes, now resigned to my behavior as a pestiferous girl.

We keep dancing until Fury makes a statement that leaves me paralyzed with surprise.

"I'm sorry Amaya"

"What are you apologizing for?"

"I'm sorry I pushed you to become a merciless killer.I should have stood by your side and protected you...and instead I used your pain to my advantage, transforming you into the perfect agent.Having created Agent Zero is my biggest regret"

Fury looks at me intently, the pain in his words is palpable.

"Don't bullshit!For the past thirteen years you have not only been my mentor.You have been a friend.You have been a father.You don't have to feel guilty about anything.I chose my path" I reply softly.

"Instead, it is I who have to thank you.Thanks for never abandoning me.Thanks for becoming my family.And thank you for giving me this fantastic opportunity to join the Avengers" I add feeling a knot tighten my throat.

Fury lifts the corner of his lips in a sly half smile.

"And I have to thank you for saving my old ass hundreds of times" he tells me.

I throw my head back laughing.

"You can always count on me director.I'll always be your pain in the ass"

We both laugh and still motionless in the middle of the dance floor we hug.

When we part, I kiss his cheek and walk away with a smile.

The party is ending, most of the guests have left.

Steve, Bucky and Sam are laughing loudly near the corner bar.

Tony and Bruce chat quietly while sipping a glass of wine.

Instead Pepper is chatting with Maria Hill and Sharon.

But one person is missing...

I scan the entire garden and in the end I find my goal.

Sitting on a stone wall at the edge of the garden is Natasha.

"Hey Romanoff!What are you doing here all alone?" I ask sitting next to her.

"After everyone's whirlwind of emotions, I needed a little peace.So after taking my family to their car I stopped here.By the way they greet you and say they can't wait to have you over for dinner" Nat replies.

I smile.

"I think it would be fun"

"Nah...you would run away after less than an hour.Alexei can be really embarrassing"

We both laugh.

"So?You and Bucky?"

The smile fades from my face.

I shrug.

"It's over Nat.There is nothing to say" I answer, raising my eyes to the sky.

I lose myself gazing at the stars, enraptured by their splendor.

"Amaya..."

"No Nat.This is enough.I am tired.I don't want to talk about him anymore.Please"

Natasha sighs.

From her eyes I can guess that she would have a lot more to tell me but she doesn't.

She remains silent respecting my will.

"So Mrs. Rogers, how does it feel to be a married woman?" I ask, trying to change the subject.

Natasha laughs with a shrug.

"Good.I feel so good" she replies, wrinkling her nose.

She has an adorable expression.

"I'm happy for you my friend, really" I whisper grabbing her hand and intertwining our fingers.

"Thanks honey" she replies and squeezes my fingers affectionately.

I untie our hands and get up.

"I'm going back to the tower.Have fun tonight" I giggle giving her a wink.

Natasha stands up and wraps her arm around my shoulders.

"I will, don't worry" she replies.

"Poor Steve" I say shaking my head and pretending to feel sorry for my friend.

We laugh together.

"You really don't want to stay?We wanted to make a toast all together"

She looks intently into my eyes, I know she wants to try to convince me but I'm not ready.

I'm not ready to sit at the same table as Bucky and pretend everything's fine.

"Thanks but it's time for me to go" I tell her.

"Say hello to Steve for me and apologize to him for me"

Natasha shakes her head.

"You have nothing to apologize for" she whispers to me kissing my cheek.

Then suddenly her eyes light up.

"Wait here!I have something for you" she tells me and then turns her back on me and walks away quickly.

After less than a minute she comes back with her hands behind her back.

I watch her amused as she approaches me and she positions herself in front of me.

"I know you need it" and so saying the former Russian spy hands me a bottle of fine tequila.

I smile.

My friend knows me really well.

"But promise me you won't do bullshit" she whispers really worried.

My gaze softens.

"I could never.Who would save your ass if I weren't there?"

We laugh together hugging each other again.

I get into one of the cars that Tony has made available for us and ask the driver to take me back to Stark Tower.

As soon as I arrive I know immediately where to go, I take off my shoes and holding them with one hand I walk up to the roof.

I take a seat on the fire escape and open my bottle of Tequila.

A pungent and captivating perfume teases my sense of smell.

"To me.To me and my pathetic life" I toast turned towards the sky starting to swallow the tequila that burns my stomach and clouds my thoughts.

Just for a few hours I want to get lost in the oblivion of alcohol.

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