#and i was specifically trying to avoid that

[softness-and-shattering]

This +, I dont remember who said it but it stuck:

"I was a child. I shouldnt have had to be strong. I should have been safe"

For adults too, Id much rather have my needs met, including safety - even if it makes me 'weak' - than to have to be Brave and Strong and Resilient.

And resilience is mostly about the supports you have access to (adds to it) and the hardship youve endured already (subtracts from it) than anything innate.

Trauma doesnt make you better or stronger, it makes you worse and more hurt and more vulnerable.

Healing is what strengthens you and improves you as a person.

And theres no inherent reason you have to be hurt before learning how to heal. How to heal is also how to maintain health; rest, gratitude, deliberately noticing and revelling in the small joys of being alive, setting and maintaining boundaries, learning social skills, following what makes you happy and feel like yourself and avoiding stress and misery, working on and improving skills, making and maintaining social relationships, seeking advice and mentorship, going outside, moving your body as is comfortable. No ones great at balancing it all, but it all contributes to happiness, contentedness, safety, and good-challenge.

And yeah theres absolutely survivorship bias. A lot of people dont make it. As I dont have capacity to change that beyond being as good a friend + aquaintance + person as I can, I try not to think about it too much. Ive had some narrow misses myself. If youre someone who does have the capacity, look into orgs and charities that help people who are struggling. Start a neighbourhood food pantry. Give money to people in need unless they ask for something specific - trust that they know best how to spend on what they need. If thats cigarettes, maybe its the only thing they have to look forward to thats keeping them alive. Offer more help rather than less. Look for ways to help people who are bedbound, housebound, because you wont just see them. Donate old books or write to people in prison. Theres so many ways to be helpful and make life more bearable to your fellow humans.

[shysuccubusstuff]

Just Caleb

Content: Some hc about Caleb cause my head is so so full of him ♡; SFW (kind of angst) + NSFW (small scenario); masturbation + foul language + non established relationship; non proof-reader

Note: Caleb is so so good, I thank them for creating a complete red flag, they just get me going. I hope everyone is enjoying him so far!!

Caleb, who had been waiting what felt like ages. He had forced himself to be taken by those who wanted to hurt you, just so he could protect you from them.

Caleb, who forced himself to become much more stoic and harsh. His expression always tainted with a mixture between resentment and, if looked closer, a constant and profound melancholy that was almost able to cloud the never-ending heartache he felt each time he held onto that necklace.

Caleb, who hid everything that reminded him of you. He even avoided going back home in fear of facing the fact that you were no longer there to greet him. Not only that, but he made sure to hide his old clothes in the back of his wardrobe, filling it with many uniforms as a poor attempt of putting out of sight the very thing that was keeping him going, that being the possibility of seeing you once more.

Caleb, who became a complete workaholic, spending his whole day around the Fleet, it didn't matter whether he was filling the huge amount of papers that needed his signature or that he was working out as if he was possessed. It didn't matter that the whole crew looked at him with both fear and pride of being under such a man. If only they knew that this was merely his way of forcing him to think about another thing, anything just to keep him away from thinking too much.

Caleb, who stopped cooking. After all, what was even the point if no one was going to eat with him (more specifically, you). He sometimes cooked, well, if anyone would actually say that taking a slice of bread with some bland soup could be considered cooking.

Caleb, who kept seeing you everywhere around him. He always had those flashbacks, constantly reminiscing about you. If he saw a small bird, he thought about you, your cheeks puffed as you complained to him about the way he treated you as a child. Then, if he chose to drown himself into his load of paperwork, he would remember the times when he saw you in your old desk, brows furrowed as you kept trying to remember each single thing you needed to learn for the hunter exams. Frustrated, he chose to simply lie in bed, leaving his colonel cap behind, he closes his eyes, hoping for even a single moment of peace, but of course he is unable to get it. Flashes of your sleeping face close to him come back, your little smile appearing on your face as you dreamt about something nice, or your constant movement during the nights that the two of you kept sharing the bed. God, his whole life was completely intertwined with yours, so how could he even hope for a second not thinking about you?

Caleb, who chooses to spends most of his time alone, not paying a single ounze of attention to his subordinates, much less to those who kept trying to pursue him just to try and get something out of him.

Caleb, who keeps getting desperate each time he remembers a single thing about you. This desperation leads him to keep trying to find even a small similarity between you and those around him. He may lock eyes with a girl with your hair colour, and suddenly, he was once again thinking about you, remembering your soft hair, together with that sweet and charming scent that came from it... He quickly snaps back to his usual self, accommodating his gloves as he focused once again on the work in front of him, eyes sometimes drifting to the necklace you had given him long time ago.

Caleb, whose mind sometimes drifts towards the times the two of you were still living together. Your rooms were just close to each other, being able to hear some of the noise that was coming from the other room if you simply kept quiet for some time.

It was already late at night, with Caleb just finishing his work out, he was already getting ready to go to bed. Just as he turned off the small light on his desk, he heard a strange noise coming from your room. Alarmed, he was about to barge inside it, scared in case something had happened to you, but soon, he realised what he had just heard.

It was your voice, weak, merely a whisper, but just enough for him to hear it from his own bed. Now calmed, he tried his best to pay no mind to it, after all, you were already an adult, and it's nothing weird for young adults to get... excited. Regardless of how hard he tried to pay no mind to it, he was still able to hear you, your soft moans echoing in his ears as if you were teasing him. Although he kept trying to ignore it, he just couldn't stop his own imagination, almost being able to see you touching yourself, your soft hands gropping and teasing your nipples as you rubbed your legs together... God, he even tried to focus by hitting his cheeks with his two hands, not like it actually worked, as he could already feel the tension growing under his pants. Still, he kept himself in control, biting his lip and trying his best to think about something else, anything.

However, as the time went on and your moans only became louder, Caleb's restraint finally gave up, moving his sheets to the side and sliding his hand down until he reached his lower half, removing both his pants and underwear and starting to move his hand up and down his shaft, biting his pillow to avoid leaking any sound in fear of you hearing him as well. As he heard your whines getting more and more high-pitched as you reached your orgasm, his hand started to move faster, closing his eyes and bitting even harder his pillow as he started to buck his own hips against his calloused hand, imagining just how good it would feel to kiss those pretty lips of yours, now all red and puffy from you biting them... He even had the nerve of thinking of your precious lower half, now all slick because of you using your fingers to tease your swollen clit until it made you cry from the pleaser, that single thought was more than enough for him to reach his high, cumming all over his hand as he kept slowly decreasing the ruthless rhythm he had set.

Embarrased, he got out of bed, quickly taking out a piece of paper and cleaning his hand, his mind now filled with a sense of guilt as he rushed to the bathroom inside his room to clean his hands.

How was he even supposed to greet you the next morning?

[wlw-multi-fandom-imagines]

I have a sorta specific request for either Emily or JJ from criminal minds. You're sorta new to the BAU and you end up getting sick while on a case, you don't hide being sick and do take care of yourself the best you can while still working you just don't want anyone to worry about you but E/JJ end up noticing and end up taking care of you? Kinda specific but I don't really like the whole "won't take medicine nor take care of themselves" trope. Thanks in advance! Or no worries if you don't want to write this!

Emily watched from a distance as you downed another round of DayQuil and shoved the bottle back into your bag. As hard as you had tried to fight it, the virus you had picked up at the start of the trip to Louisiana was taking it's toll. All of the vitamin C and other preventative measures had seemingly been for nothing, but she had to admit it was impressive how you were still managing to power through.

"How're you holding up?" she asked, entering your make-shift "office" in the corner of the small-town police station the team was temporarily operating out of.

"I am going to sleep for at least three days when we get home. Maybe four, but that might be considered a coma," you responded, voice raw from coughing. "How about you?"

"I'll probably just need a day and a half, two tops. You wanna head back to the hotel for the night? Garcia isn't going to have news until the morning, and we're kind of just spinning our wheels til then."

You nodded gratefully and stood, grabbing the bag stuffed with case files and cold medicine at your feet. Though you hadn't realized it, the two of you were the last ones left at the station. Emily knew part of the reason you were pushing yourself so hard was to impress the rest of the team, as this was your first official case with them since joining the BAU a few weeks prior. What Emily didn't know, was that you were also trying to impress her specifically, even if you weren't willing to admit that to yourself just yet.

"I'm not going to lie, I have taken enough cold medicine in the last 12 hours that I could be legally impaired at this point. Would you mind driving?" you asked as the two of you headed towards the single remaining black SUV in the parking lot. She chuckled and nodded, having already started searching her pockets for the keys.

"No worries, I was already planning on it. Also, totally won't judge you if you take a power nap on the way back. You have definitely earned one."

Grateful for the darkness, you blushed and felt your cheeks burn against the cool night air as you reached the passenger side door and got in. As she started the engine, the air that blasted from the vents blew a waft of her perfume towards you and you felt your stomach leap for a second. If you weren't so fatigued, you might have scolded yourself for how quickly you were developing a crush on your coworker. However, you were already drifting off after less than a minute of settling into your head and had no time to do so.

Emily, on the other hand, did not have the luxury of a nap to avoid the conflicting thoughts in her head. Had you not drifted off so quickly, you might have caught the glance she sent your way at the first red light she encountered, and how this time it was her that blushed.

[business-as-usual-bats]

"Give Elon Musk the benefit of the doubt-"

Except here's the thing- I did.

Because I heard about it before I saw it. I never particularly liked Musk, but I moreso felt fairly ambivalent toward him. I certainly did not picture him as a Nazi.

When I first heard about the Nazi salute I was surprised. And when that person told me, "Oh, but they're saying it was unintentional, just him being awkward-"

I believed that. I believed it was most likely a mistake, and people were exaggerating because so many are upset and panicked.

And then I saw the video.

Immediately it was so much worse than I had imagined. I was shocked. Everything about the video to his body language to his facial expression. How he did it twice. It was so obviously intentional and undeniable. And even then I compared it to multiple other videos of Nazis doing the salute, including modern-day Nazis. It's identical.

He didn't even deny it immediately afterward???

Not even a simple, "Ha, obviously that's not what I meant-" He avoided the question and laughed it off altogether, to imply MAYBE it wasn't on purpose. And yet you can't help but notice he still didn't deny it.

And the arguments defending him are INSANE. They capture pictures of other politicians mid-wave, mid-gesture and say, "See??? See??? They've all done it!"

No. They haven't. Not like that. Not a salute like that. Not even close to being so intentional and obvious.

Or they go, "It was him throwing his heart out to the crowd-"

No. There's multiple videos of him doing that during other speeches of his, and it's nowhere near this Nazi salute. Palms turned upward, or using both arms, etc, etc. It's not as if he's not used to giving speeches, as if he has not been coached and had training on what to do or not to do when public speaking.

"Noooo it's the Roman Salute!"

The Nazi Salute is based off the Roman Salute specifically (the arm is just dipped slightly lower-) AND EITHER WAY THEY'RE BOTH CONSIDERED HATE SYMBOLS??

The cognitive dissonance of people trying and trying and trying to excuse him. And to be clear- I would love if there was a good excuse! I don't want him to have thrown up a Nazi salute on live national television!

But he did. I cannot deny my own eyes. No matter what I am told, I know what I see as clear as day.

I'm not even saying he's a Nazi, I'm not claiming to know what his beliefs are or why he did a Nazi salute on Live television. Hell, maybe he did it as a dare, or a challenge to himself to see what he can get away with, but it doesn't really matter why.

What I know:

1. For whatever reason, Elon Musk intentionally did the Nazi Salute on Live television.

2. He did not immediately deny doing so or apologize.

3. Because of this, today's Nazis are praising him for it. They are saying "We're back!" And "This is our time!" And various celebratory phrases.

4. Even if you argue this was unintentional (even though I can tell by his body language it was) the damage has been done. Nazis are rallying behind him, encouraged, excited. This is going to have consequences.

Nazis have already been parading around my city. Now they're going to be bolder. The damage has been done.

TLDR: I was fully prepared to believe Elon doing the Nazi salute was an awkward mistake but one look at the video and I cannot fool myself into believing otherwise. And now we have to pay the price for his stupid actions.

[rostekhorn]

I don't know where it stands when compared to Campbell's Hero's Journey idea specifically, but I've always loved Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan (and the preceding episode of TOS, Space Seed) for going against a hell of a lot of established conventions when it comes to heroism and lone men saving the world.

Khan's entire backstory is that of a guy who thinks the hero's journey is real, and he's the hero, except life stubbornly refuses to conform to his narrative. He's literally the product of an attempt to make superheroes real, and he's internalized the idea that because he's stronger and smarter than everybody else, it's his destiny to rule over them for their own good. ... And real life keeps getting in the way. First, the stupid little muggles back in the 1990s refused to obey him and overthrew his empire. Then, he was unfrozen in the 23rd century, thought he had a second chance, only the stupid little muggles took that away from him again. Then, his attempt to build a new world from scratch on Ceti Alpha V also failed because of a freak natural phenomenon that none of his superior strength and intellect could handle. And then of course, the movie. His hero's journey keeps getting thwarted by, well, the fact that the world isn't actually a superhero movie, and he isn't actually its main character, and the more it happens, the angrier he gets.

But that's just Khan. Then there's Kirk. Who has more than a little of the same ego and hero complex that Khan does, and in this movie, it's all for the worst. His arrogance and belief that he's above the rules gets a whole bunch of his crew killed, ultimately including his best friend, who has to sacrifice himself to finish cleaning up his mess. The entire situation could have been avoided if Kirk had simply followed routine Starfleet procedure (kept the shields raised when encountering Reliant). The only thing that allows him to escape and stage a comeback is more routine Starfleet procedures (Reliant's command codes, and the "for God's sake use codes when you're on an open channel" rule). And when he finally comes back for round 2, the reason he wins is simply that deep space combat is something he's been doing all his life and Khan has never done before. The whole movie celebrates bureaucracy, training, and experience, over innate special individual ability.

If you go back to Space Seed, there's also the whole story about the ship's historian who falls in love with Khan but then betrays him once she realizes what he's about. I don't love all the gender politics that are wrapped up in that storyline, but I recognize the point they were trying to make. She's someone who's completely bought the romanticized vision of past figures like Khan, and has to learn, through exposure to the real thing, that people like that in real life aren't Campbellian heroes, they're brutal thugs. (It also softens the gender politics a little bit that Kirk, McCoy, and the rest of the humans have also swallowed a lot of the romantic kool-aid - not as much as her, but enough to seriously disturb Spock, the only one in this episode who sees clearly right from the start - which kind of foreshadows Kirk's flaws when they next encounter Khan in the movie).

In any case, color me unsurprised that when we got that thoughtful pushback against a bunch of our traditional heroic tropes, it came from Star Trek.

alright, I’m annoyed with the class that I’m taking. it’s about writing novels, and I thought it would have cool stuff about balancing your narrative and developing themes etc, but instead she spent the first class talking about how every book fits into the Hero’s Journey (the monomyth template). and I was somewhat of a contrarian, and said “can you give us examples of books that don’t fit into this template?” and she said “no. because all books fit.”

but I dunno man, I just finished reading this Korean book where the plot is just the character having a string of hookups and reflecting on them without changing in any way. I don’t know if it’s possible to contort that into the Hero’s Journey.

[nottivagos]

COME ON IN! COME ON IN! Welcome Notti's "Not So Innocent" Notebook where I write some filth to make your Thursday a little bit better <3 || 18+ mdni pls and ty

Gangster!Danny runs the streets. Every club and bar in your little town he owns. Too bad you're such a pretty thing that comes into his club often. Your father has always told you to avoid Daniel, but after you start a secret affair with him, you can't stay away.

an: first of all, anyone who knows the lyric that inspired this, can i ask for your hand in marriage? like, actually. second of all, gangster au has my heart. like i'm a whore for gangster au so much. oh- the camera was rolling?! shit, that was off script...

taglist: @orangeblossomsintheair

You shouldn't be here. It wasn't right.

Daniel Ricciardo was trouble. Your father had specifically told you that when you'd started to go to his clubs more often. Don't get involved with the Ricciardo Gang, he said. They're trouble waiting to happen, he said.

But there was something alluring that kept you coming back. Daniel was different. He wasn't like the rest of the lackeys in his gang. He was purer, you could see those cracks whenever you spoke to him on an intimate level, the desire to get out of his gang lifestyle evident in his speech.

Danny liked running the clubs. He enjoyed the razzle dazzle and the clientele that came along with it. The man was a charmer, an intoxicatingly gorgeous charmer, but anyone could tell you that. But what he didn't enjoy was the men with guns and the bounties on people's heads. The protection rackets he'd had to have put in place as a result of owning nearly all the casinos in town, the enemies that came along with being this gangster he didn't want to be.

You'd caught his eye the first time you'd stepped inside one of the lavish nightclubs near your little home on a side street. Danny had already acknowledged how out of place you looked with the aristocrats, the way you lurked timidly in the shadows, the innocence in your eye when you choked on harsh liquor you'd never been exposed to. It made his heart flutter.

Quick glances became small talk. Small talk became long nights. It was dreamy. Your heart warmed with his teases, smooth flirts, loving words; your senses soon came accustomed to the booze he sold and supplied cheaply, your flushed cheeks radiating whenever he got you a little too tipsy.

You were cute to Danny and that's all that mattered.

“What would your daddy do if he saw you here, huh?” His words were teasing, they had a bite to them. A smirk moulded onto his lips as his brown doe eyes stayed locked onto your's. “You know I'm trouble, don'tcha princess?”

The words rolled off his tongue so smoothly. It was intoxicating. It was wrong. It was thrilling. A cocktail of emotions swam around in your gut, swirling into anticipation as you batted your eyelashes, twirling some strays of your hair around your finger ever so slowly.

“Maybe you are trouble,” you giggled in response, biting back your bottom lip before letting it pop back. “But you're the one who offered to buy me this drink,” you added with a knowing look, a cheeky smile forming on your soft lips, “so I think that makes us even.”

A raised eyebrow followed. “Oh, is that so?” He questioned, leaning in a little further, his face merely inches away from your own. It made your breath hitch, the intensity of the distance between you both becoming suffocating. The nagging voice in your head telling you it was wrong made it seem oh so right. “Little miss has got some spunk on her, I see.”

Your eyes lit up, giddiness fluttering around your whole body. The electricity of the intimacy and playful banter set your body alight, the moment making your heart pound like an overpowering drum. This whole ordeal was wrong, you couldn't go against your father, but it felt right. Daniel Ricciardo was trouble, but he'd soon be your trouble.

“I try,” you responded as dryly as you could, lips toying with the straw in your cheap gin and tonic as you took small sips every so often. “You don't scare me as much as my daddy wants you to, Danny,” you highlighted with a raised eyebrow before sipping again, the words rolling off of your tongue like thick honey. Smooth and sweet.

“I know I don't, darling,” he quickly answered with an amused scoff. “If I scared you, then we wouldn't be here,” his voice lowered whilst his face edged forward even more, nose now nudging your own slightly as his elbows came to rest on the wooden bar comfortably.

“So you're not even scared of what my daddy would think?” the question so innocently asked by yourself made him chuckle in response. You really were stupid.

“Are you scared of what your daddy would think?”

“Sometimes,” you whispered with a soft look, “but I suppose that doesn't matter.”

“How come?” Danny questioned with more of a little smile that had formed on his lips.

“I'm good at keeping secrets,” your hot breath brushed against his face in that moment whilst you murmured.

“So if I kissed you right now you'd be able to keep it a secret, huh?” Danny challenged with a knowing look, a hungry glint shining in his eye.

At that moment you should've been afraid. You should've ran, the glimmer in his eye meant trouble. A good type of trouble nonetheless. A trouble so enticing that any girl wanted it when entranced in Danny's charm.

“Depends if you're a good kisser or not,” you teased, batting your eyelashes as his breathing became less controlled.

“Is that a challenge, sweetheart?”

You responded with a nod, cheeks burning. The sweet look of your face was all Danny needed to see the green light. A large hand cupped your burning face, his nose coming down to nuzzle against your's, lips hovering dangerously before he planted a gentle kiss on your mouth.

A soft moan was suppressed as your hand followed to cup his stubble, melting into his lips as they burnt into you. The moment was raw, so passionately beautiful as your lips slowly parted from each other ever so slowly. A sheepish smile plastered on your face as he smirked at you, his brown eyes fixed on yours.

“Was that more to your liking, princess?” He chuckled, grabbing his tumbler of whiskey, before downing the remnants of amber liquid in one gulp, allowing the alcohol to burn his throat.

You were too much in a flustered daze to answer his question. Mind fuzzy from the intimacy of the gentle peck, you blinked in disbelief for a few moments, the bustle of the nightclub becoming a blur.

He snorted slightly upon seeing your reaction. “I'll take that as a yes, pretty girl,” he mumbled his voice as thick as tar, brushing a loose strand of your hair behind your ear ever so tenderly with a smile you'd never forget in a million years. <3

like gangster!danny? fancy sending me an ask in my ask box so you can be added to my notebook! - notti <3

[dinogoofymutated]

Okay, since requests are open, I wanted to ask for something, especially after seeing that you are comfortable with most male characters.

I present:

Scott Summers x fem!reader who's just a little too rebelious and annoying for his taste but he still can't help but love her? Like, enemies to lovers kind of style?

If you want to do a oneshot or headcanons is up to you, I'm just starving for Scott content.

Don't know, if you wanna do is, especially since he's not everyone's cup of tea, but I thought "hey, give it a try, maybe she wants to try someting different" so here I go

Anyway, love your work, you#re amazing <3

Cyclops/GN!Reader I've had this prompt saved in my drafts for SO LONG. Basically since the moment it came in!! I was so happy you sent this in bc i had been thinking about writing for Scott, but then I couldn't think of a good enough way to carry this out so I waited on it for a good bit until I had it down to a science!! Hope you enjoy!! Man, I started writing this and then realised I had to make a banner for him too 😭 I did this to myself tho Most of the characters I write for are written as combinations from different x-men media, but I'm still figuring out how I want to characterise Scott since he's a new character for me. Just wanted to put this out there in case I change how I write for him in future fics. (also, let me know how you feel about him in this one! Tell me if yall think I should tweak his attitude a bit :) ) Edit from the future: I started this draft so long ago and damn did it turn out long. TWs: Idk at the moment, will add if I think of any! Reader has a specific power that is kinda vague at first. I've written them out at the very bottom BUT if u read u will spoil the surprise of the fic so fair warning

Scott does not like you. At least, not anymore.

You've known each other for a long time, both coming to Xavier's school within weeks of each other. You used to be friends- or at least friendly. But as you both grew and learned more about yourselves and your powers, a gap began to form, and then continued to grow once both of you became members of the x-men.

It's not like he didn't notice your tendency for rebellious behavior before, but on the field? the two of you clashed more than ever. He's doing his best out here, and the last thing he needs as a leader is both you and Logan going out of your way to put yourselves in dangerous situations because you think you know better.

And the moment you get back to the mansion? You clash all over again- and over the dumbest things. You practically avoid him all of the time, refuse to spar with him unless you're forced, will scoot away from him if he has to sit next to you on game nights. It's like the very thought of brushing against him is enough to get under your skin.

The moment the blackbird lands, you should have known what to expect. But you're in such a good mood, with the mission having gone well despite all odds. Sure, you didn't exactly follow Cyclops' foolproof plan, but when did you ever?

Scott is standing at the end of the ramp when the doors open, watching with a rather sour look on his face as you laugh with Jubilee, the others trailing shortly behind. He crosses his arms, and you barely stop short of him, acting like you had never seen him in the first place as you sigh, nodding at the others to go ahead before finally turning to him and crossing your own arms.

"Go ahead. Say your piece." You say. It only stokes the irritation in him, and he scowls.

"You can't go one, single mission and actually listen to what I say, can you?" He snaps. You roll your eyes, knowing that if he had it his way, you'd never have gone on the mission at all. Still, you stand defiantly, unwilling to back down.

"Look, you weren't even there, you can't expect me to-"

"It would be different if I was there, but I wasn't." Scott interrupts you, and the aggravation it lights in you is practically all-consuming. You can't hold back your scowl. "You were the only senior member of the team on that plane, do you understand how detrimental it could have been if you had gotten hurt, or worse?!" Oh, what a load of horseshit. It's alway the boy scout schtick with him- I'm the leader, do what I say, If I was there none of this would have happened- what an asshole! Hell, in the second half you might have actually thought he was concerned for you and the team, but you knew better.

"Don't act like you actually give a damn, Summers." You snap. "Everyone is fine, no one got hurt, I don't see your problem." You're done with this. You're tired, sweaty, exhausted, and the last thing you want to be doing right now is talking with him. You knock shoulders with him as you brush past, but he reaches out and grabs you by the arm. You feel a mix of strong emotions- anger, concern, frustration- and thoughts swim in your head, before snatching your arm away from him like you'd been burned. He pauses for a second as you whip around and look at him, a rage in your eyes. He still looks at you with that stupid, stubborn look on his face.

"I get that you think I'm just some stuck-up asshole, but there's a reason I get angry when you do something reckless." His voice has lost the smallest a bit of fire. You scoff at him immediately, before turning away to storm out.

"Eat shit."

So no. things weren't exactly cool between you two.

It's not like you weren't friends at some point though, back when you were kids. You didn't know what happened to cause this rift, but he only really thought of you as some reckless idiot as of late, and you didn't care to learn anything else about what was going on in his brain.

Unfortunately, that didn't mean you could avoid him forever. Not when the both of you are on a team.

You only realise how much pain you're in when the blackbird's autopilot clicks on. Your suit was scuffed and worn in some areas, starting to burn at the edges of your sleeves as the protective coating started to wear away. You noticed it in the midst of battle, trying to focus on manipulating debri to a colder temperature rather than a hot one, but sometimes you can't afford to be picky in fights. Your suit may have been temperature resistant, but you were temperature invulnerable. Besides, heat did the most damage anyway.

You frown a bit at the sight of your burnt sleeves. Normally, you'd be worried that Hank would be mad at having to make a new suit again, but if anything you were sure he'd be grateful for the challenge of improving it. Scott was really the only one who would scold you for it, always coming back to the same arguments of being too reckless, ect, ect... and speaking of Scott, he was being awfully quiet right now.

The cockpit is empty exempt for the two of you, being the only two assigned to the mission. Scott is sat in the pilot's chair, and you can't really see much of him besides the top of his head. He's silent, and it makes you worried.

When you stand and walk. over to him, his face looks pained. You're sure his eyes are closed under his signature visor, his head leaning back limply in the chair, hair tussled. You furrow your eyebrows. You knew he'd be tired, but he's not usually this burned out.

"Scott? You alright?" You ask. he only hums in response. It's then when you realise what's wrong.

"Migraine?" You ask, and he hums in the affirmative. You wince at the thought. You knew he got migraines often, especially when using his mutation more than usual, and having migraines yourself, you knew he was hurting. You take a look at where the emergency aid box usually is, knowing it had painkillers, but the space is empty, and you sigh to yourself when you remember you used it on a local- Scott agreeing with you for once when you wanted to leave it with them for any more emergencies. You look back at Scott, and think for a moment more.

Scott jumps when you place a cold hand on his forehead, having settled your weight on the back of the chair behind him. It sparks a feeling of surprise.

"What are you doing?" Scott asks, and instead of his usual accusatory tone, he just sounds tired.

"Don't be a baby." You respond, chilling both hands and combing through his hair gently. Scott is confused as all hell. Why were you doing this? You go out of your way to avoid him at any cost, and then... this? What even was this?

But... he'd be lying if it didn't feel nice. Scott begins to relax underneath you as you continue to comb through his scalp, pressing gentle touches to his forehead as you do so. It's... it feels good.

"My mom used to do this when I was little." You say softly, after a long moment of silence. "Whenever I had a migraine, she'd run her hands under cold water for a long time, lay my head in her lap, and run her hands through my hair. The cold usually helped." Scott's shoulder's are sagging now, and he sighs every once in a while. Although he doesn't say anything, you don't need to ask. There's a question beginning to brim, but you answer it before he can even speak- saving him the effort of talking in the midst of his pain.

"...And it just felt nice to feel her play with my hair, I guess. 'figured it might help you, too."

You try not to dwell on whatever thoughts begin to swirl after that.

It's hard to tell when things shift after that. Even harder for Scott to understand why.

Eventually you go from avoiding him at any given chance, stiff and petty with your actions, to casual. Not quite friendly, but almost.

"And... Right hand red!" Jubilee calls from the couch, having entirely too much fun for someone who isn't even playing this game. Everyone who's already lost has dispersed, either playing a different game or having good conversation. The game of twister had started with four? Maybe five of you? But at the moment, it was just down to you and Scott. -The two of you being way too competitive to let the other win. At the moment, both of you were in a bit of a strange position, with Scott managing to crawl over you at some point. Aside from that, the game had been going on for uncomfortably long- long enough for the pizza to get here.

The doorbell rings and it's pretty instantaneous when people start to flock to the kitchen for the feast, Jubilee included. There's a flicker of panic in both of you as she quickly leaves.

"Hey!-"

"Jubilee! Wait!"

"You'll be fine, you big babies!" She calls out, giggling in her pursuit of the cheesy goodness. That just leaves you and Scott on the matt, pressed together in some places and a but uncomfortable, but awkwardly? Still competeting.

"God, that pizza smells good." Scott groans from above you, the smell of food becoming more and more tempting. You think about it, for a half a second maybe, but that competitive little devil on your shoulder gets to you before your stomach can.

"You know what? why don't you go ahead and grab a piece!" You say, causing Scott to cock an eyebrow at you.

"What, and let you win? Not a chance." He huffs. You shrug best you can, it was worth a shot! Neither of you were going to budge any time soon, determined not to let the other win. But the longer you stayed pressed together...

It's not like you hadn't noticed how handsome Scott was. Hell, who wouldn't? Even Logan isn't immune to his good looks, but obviously you weren't going to be... wierd, about it. You're just playing a game, right? But the sight of him above you, slightly flushed, shifting every once in a while while keeping his balance? It was... tempting.

It doesn't take long for other thoughts to begin swimming around, worming their way into your mind. The two of you in various states of undress... gasping, gripping onto one another... marks on his neck, your lips swollen and stained by the lipstick your wearing tonight.

Each and every thought leaves you more flustered than before, slipping on the plastic mat and accidentally knocking into one of Scott's weight bearing arms and sending the two of you colliding into the floor. You hear Scott let out a noise of pain and you're not down there for long before you shove him off of you, face burning as you grumble about his win. You stalk off without much fanfare, leaving Scott a bit befuddled.

"What was that all about?"

But regardless of how aggravated you made eachother sometimes, everyone has their breaking point...

You're surprised when Scott kisses you in the hall some weeks later, less than a second after a heated spat started to take a bit of a turn, but to be honest? You were into it.

His lips are soft, if a little chapped, heated kisses full of force and urgency before they soften just a little. You kiss him back in a similar manner his hands falling to your waist as you grab him by the collar and pull him even closer. You're quick to start moving the two of you backwards fumbling for a closet door you could have sworn was right... there.

As soon as the door swings open, you pull him inside, pushing him against the wall once it closes again and cupping the back of his neck as you pull him into another kiss. An unfamiliar feeling of warmth shoots through you as you do, and you almost giggle as his thoughts start to flood with more and more tempting situations for the two of you to be in.

After each and every dirty thought he has, you start to wonder if he even remembered your touch telepathy after having known you for so long- but hell, even if he didn't, you weren't complaining.

If u made it this far, I wanna give u details about the Reader's powers some more!! Specifically, the powers are temperature manipulation/temperature invulnerability/touch telepathy! They get a bit complicated bc reader can't light shit on fire or make ice out of the air, but they can melt shit and freeze existing water though! As long as reader touches it in some way! Due to this they're invulnerable to heat/cold for obvious reasons. Touch telepathy was added bc i love mutations with unnecessary layers (Emma frost) and... u really think I was gonna let scott get away without banging another telepath? wrONG

[cavegirlpoems]

They Think Empathy Is A Sin Because They Worship Satan, Literally, Not Metaphorically: an esay.

OK so. I am going to do something inadvisable and make a lengthy post about something other than game design, because I can and I want to.

It's a long one. Like, extremely long. So, to avoid "Do you like the colour of the sky [gone quaker, gone tolstoy, christian anarchist edition]", here's a convenient break so you can scroll past if lengthy religious diatribes aren't your thing.

To begin with, some baselines. I am writing from a Christian perspective. More specifically, I would describe myself as a Liberal Quaker. To me, at least, this involves Christianity as a communal mystical practice, with unprogrammed worship (IE no clergy) and an entirely flat religious heirarchy. Values associated with this branch of religion include honesty, charity, humility and peace.

I adopted Quakerism as a religious framework because it was the one that worked for me. I was raised in, and still live in, a culturally Christian society; as such, Christianity provided a religious framework of symbols and meanings that I was culturally fluent with, whereas other faiths would have required a steeper learning curve since I lack that baseline familiarity. That said, I try to study and understand other religions: I would say that what I've learned of Islam and Budhism - while I'm far from an expert - have been valuable to me.

Politically, I lean hard to the left and hard towards anarchy/libertarianism. I would describe my politics as antifascist first, and then largely anarcho-communist after that, but I'm a pretty big-tent progressive. I'm also a british trans woman who keeps ending up voting Lib Dem for lack of better options, if that gives you any context.

Now, let's define some terms as I understand them and intend to use them. These are all metaphors or symbols, that we can use poetically to better articulate certain ideas. I use Christian imagery here, because that's what I'm fluent with; if I was instead fluent with Jewish or Daoist or some other religious culture, I'd be expressing my ideas with those symbols instead. So.

God: A manifestation/personification/symbol of absolute perfect goodness. God is Love. That is God is absolute unconditional love for all of creation.

Jesus/Christ: Jesus is a representation of God's love for us humans taking tangible effect. Jesus is a sacrifice God made on our behalf to rescue us from Sin. Jesus is inspired by the historical figure Yeshua of Nazareth, a 1st-century Jewish religious thinker who was quite popular and then executed by the Roman occupation.

Sin/Original Sin: Sin is simple, it's when we do bad things that hurt people. Since God loves all of us and doesn't want us hurt, God doesn't want us to Sin. Original sin is part of us; the fact that we are capable of Sinning simply because we're human.

Satan/The Devil: Satan is the force that urges us to Sin.

Heaven/Paradise: A state of goodness, where - since we have escaped sin and embraced God's wishes for us, we do not suffer.

Hell/Damnation: The state of rejecting God and personally embracing Sin, and therefore suffering.

When I talk about these things, I do not mean them in the literaly sense that a fundamentalist might. I do not believe that there is an actual literal guy called Satan who is red with stylish little horns and a goattee who spends all day tempting people and poking dead souls with a pitchfork.

Rather, these are social constructs. By way of analogy, gender and money are social constructs; they're concepts that have no inherent existence in a world that's ultimately just atoms and energy in a vacuum, but because we believe in them and lend them social weight, they gain power in our lives. In the same way the concepts of God, Satan, Sin, etc clearly effect the world. Saying 'Sin' isn't real is like saying your bank account isn't real; it has a tangible effect on the world, so it's useful to discuss it.

Does this mean that I think God, Sin, etc are just made up arbitrary symbols? No. I happen to believe in them. I happen to actively choose to believe in them, because I want to invest them with meaning in my life. This is why it's called 'faith' and not 'rational observation'. But even if they were purely arbitrary ideas, then I think that - like other purely arbitrary ideas such as 'human rights' and 'love' - they're worth believing in anyway.

Lastly, the Bible. I like the bible. It's an old historical text with some incredibly beautiful writing in it, that conveys some potent and meaningful messages. It is very obviously not an account of literal fact, but interpreted through a lens of metaphor or poetry it has a lot to teach. Not everything in it is perfect - it's a historical text that has been translated and retranslated repeatedly - but IMHO you can get a lot out of it, and its writers were, as a general rule, onto something.

You will notice that these ideas are wildly counter to the culturally conservative evangelical christian mainstream. They are, however, entirely unremarkable within the framework of liberal theology.

OK. These should be our base assumptions going in. Perhaps you disagree with them; if so, that's nice for you, but here I'm describing my worldview, not prescribing what yours should be.

It is perhaps notable that I've got this far in and only just finished defining my terms.

SO.

I have observed in the past that there are - effectively - two different, largely incompatible, religions both called Christianity. On the one hand, we have what I believe in, a belief structure that champions such virtues as mercy, forgiveness, peace and humility. On the other hand, we have the mainstream conservative evangelical christian right; this version of christianity values things like obedience, authority and (most of all) punishment.

These are fundamentally incompatible belief structures. As a stark illustration of this, consider what these two christianities want for wrongdoers. One branch wants them to repent, atone and be forgiven. The other wants them to be punished and suffer for their transgressions.

I am going to differentiate between these two beliefs. Because it's my essay and I'm on my side, I will call my beliefs Christianity, and the other side Christian Fascism.

I would argue that my values are more fundamental to the underlying message of Christianity (as derived from the teachings of that guy Yeshua I mentioned) than the other approach. In no particular order:

we have the parable of the prodigal son. Here, Yeshua teaches his followers that when somebody fucks up and then changes their mind, this is to be celebrated and they are to be welcomed back. The message of reconciliation and forgiveness is obvious.

we have the parable of the good samaritan. Again, the message is clear: we must seek to do right by even our enemies.

there are many other stories and teachings attributed to Yeshua with similar messages. Forgiveness and redemption are constant themes in his teachings. He praises the humble and the downtrodden consistently.

However, most importantly, we have the central facet of Christianity itself; the crucifixion. What happens here, and why?

God comes to earth as Jesus, and - after spreading his message described above - is publicly tortured to death in one of the most horrific execution methods available at the time. This sacrifice is made, knowingly, to absolve humanity of Sin. All of humanity. No exceptions. God loves us, He wants us to be forgiven when we sin, so he suffers and dies for us to offer us a way out.

It's right there. John 3:16: "For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life." God loves the entire world so much that He made this sacrifice, so that whoever wants it can be saved. No exceptions. Whoever you are, God loves you, and sent Jesus so you can be saved if you want it.

This is the single central pillar on which the entire rest of Christianity is built.

So, yes. The 'no true scotsman' argument gets used in discussions around Christianity, but in this instance I firmly believe that it is, in fact, possible to say that somebody is doing Christianity wrong, because the central message of Christianity stands for something (mercy, redemption, charity, etc) and when somebody acts in opposition to that, then whatever they are doing is not christian.

(an analogy: suppose somebody called themselves a communist, but in practice they voted for right-wing parties, assisted the owning-class over the class interests of the workers, espoused anti-communist rhetoric, and never did anything communist. They could claim all they want: the truth remains that they are failing to be a communist through their actual behaviour. likewise any other set of principles).

So. Christianity is not Christian Fascism. Christian Fascism is, instead, fascism wearing christianity as a disguise. They are not, meaningfully, christian, they just want you to think they are. They might believe it themselves, even.

Another example: terfs. Terfs are transphobic bigots who appropriate the name of feminism to advance their transphobic agendas. They want you to believe they're feminists. They might believe they're feminists themselves. But the things they say, and do, and seem to believe are profoundly unfeminist, and feminism as a movement has a duty to reject them. That terfs wear the mask of feminism doesn't discredit the actual feminist movement.

It's idealogical parasitism. Hollowing out one ideology and wearing its skin to advance the agenda of a different, opposing ideology.

Fascists do this a lot because the actual things they want are straightforwardly evil, and being evil on purpose tends not to be popular until you're, like, super indoctrinated, so they use appropriate the language of other movements as a trojan horse.

To my mind, there is a fairly simple litmus test for these things. There are two groups in the Bible that we are repeatedly, consistently, unequivocably told to treat well. One is Widows. The other is Refugees. These two groups were hilighted by the writers for a reason; they're vulnerable demographics with fewer social connections to support themselves, who can easily be neglected or actively victimised by a society that doesn't make an active choice to support them. When Yeshua says "Truly I tell you, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me", they are 'the least of these'.

Luckily, widows are not in the modern day at the centre of a huge culture war. Refugees, however?

So. A good litmus test. How somebody believes we should treat refugees, and immigrants more broadly. The message of the Bible is consistently to help foreigners who come to your country, to provide for them and help them settle. Jesus doesn't make any exceptions about visas or 'legal immigration' or contributing to the economy. He tells you in no uncertain terms that you must help refugees, always, every time. If you disagree with that... you're not a Christian, you're a Fascist appropriating Christianity.

(There is a massive discussion that could go here about the bible's position on sexuality, queerness, divorce, etc etc. I cannot be bothered with all that. The christian-fascist reading of these verses tends to get the most visibility, because the translations of the bible with the most visibility leaned into these interpretations. there are other interpretations and other translations that don't have these problems. I could go into more detail, but I have better things to discuss. Two key points:

the bible was written in societies where the family was incredibly reliant - socially and economically - on the husband's support. If the husband casts aside his wife and family, or stops giving a shit about them, they're totally fucked. This is the same society where 'do not let widowed women starve if they no longer have a husband to support them' is reiterated constantly. So, many admonishments against adultery etc should be read in this light: your family rely on you, do not abandon them. Many other passages - eg sodom & gomorrough - are likewise condemnation of things like sexual abuse.

more importantly, remember, the central message of christianity is one of absolute universal love so powerful that Jesus personally sacrificed himself to save us. All of us. 'The world' that God loved includes the gays and the divorcees etc. That central message takes precedent over any edge-case reading you might find that suggests that God's love has exceptions.)

There is an asymetry in public discussions of christianity (and, I think, religion more broadly).

If you have a set of beliefs that value everybody's intrinsic worth, that values considers charity and mercy good, that tells you to embrace foreigners and outgroups more generally, you will tend to the left. You will tend to adopt other left-wing ideas alongside it. Among these are ideas like cultural sensitivity, inclusivity, etc. If you believe Jesus commands you to embrace foreigners, then you will do your best not to reject them or their practices, even if they practice a different religion to you. This is doubled when christianity is a culturally hegemonic force, and you wish to do right by the meek and the humble who are being oppressed (often by that hegemonic force of christianity).

What this means is that on the left - where those following the message of Christianity properly should end up - there is an understanding that making explicitely Christian arguments is alienating and disrespectful to those you should have solidarity with. So, as a result of following (Christian) moral principles, the leftist Christian will generally not express their principles in explicitely religious terms, even when they could do so.

Not so on the right. The right doesn't have a problem with making the outgroup feel alienated or disrespecting them. Often, it quite likes this. So, they will use christian language to express their ideas.

So, even if both sides are balanced in numbers - heck, even if the christian fascists are significantly in the minority - the majority of people being vocally christian will be the christian fascists. And this presentation will reinforce the issue.

If this pattern continues within christian circles as well as in public forums - and it does in my experience - then this likewise gives the christian fascists a dispropportionate influence over what christianity becomes. So, it becomes important that in internal discussions, christian fascism be vocally opposed, and opposed in explicitely religious terms.

The fascists are not doing christianity. They do not speak for christianity, and they are not representative of the entirety of christianity. Their hollowing-out-and-puppetting of christianity to promote evil is itself an act of evil; people like this are why we have the word blasphemy.

Seeing somebody spewing hatred that results in actual, material harm to actual, real vulnerable people, and claiming that this is done in the name of Christ, is a profoundly horrific and perverse thing. It makes me feel ill to witness it.

(A further thought: traditionally, Christianity has held that Salvation is through both belief and works. That you must not only want salvation, you must act on it - which is to say, be a good person. If you claim to be saved but continue to willfully sin, that isn't good enough. So, christianity is what you do, not just how you label yourself. There is a correlation between discarding the belief in salvation by works, and christian fascism. John Calvin's spanner remains in the works to this day).

A thought on Idolatory. What is idolatory? In my view, the treatement of a man-made, worldly thing with the same reverence as holy things. If there is an object or symbol that represents a worldly, human thing that you insist must be treated with reverence and ceremony - as if it was holy - then you have made an idol of that thing.

You know, when I first learned about the way americans treat their flag, I was horrified. Because that flag is an idol. It is so obviously and clearly an idol, and yet. And yet.

Patriotism and nationalism - the revering of the state - is idolatory.

The way we fetishise cops and the military is idolatory.

Even discounting that these symbols are things that do horrific evil as their stated goals, you have taken a human thing - a political body - and treated it like its sacred.

When we consider that an Idol can be a concept or a structure, and not just a literal graven image, we start to see idolatory everywhere on the political right. This is, after all, the entire concept of 'civil religion'. The american founding fathers are not saints, the american constitution is not a holy text, and the american flag is not a holy relic, and the treatment of these things like they are is obvious and flagrant idolatory.

Read up on Tolstoy's thoughts on christian anarchism, as a logical end point of these ideas.

A little diversion on the Antichrist. I dont think Revelations is a literal predictive prophecy, I think it's a warning. It describes - through poetic and symbolic language - pitfalls the faithful might encounter, and encourages them to stand firm against them, and promises that however dire things get, good will triumph over evil in the end. It says 'things will get bad, here are some specific ways they might get bad, but you should hold onto hope'.

Who is the Antichrist in this text? It describes a type of person. Somebody wealthy and politically powerful, who achieves a position of global power and unifies disparate nations under his banner. He isn't christian, but he makes a pretence at piety and convinces the masses to treat him as a religious figure, even as he perverts and distorts religion towards his own hateful ends. He's supported by powerful cultural entities, and combined with his charisma this makes his ascent to power seem inevitable. He is utterly, utterly evil, but he also has really powerful branding that people willingly adopt. He will rise to power in a time of turmoil, sickness and widespread disasters.

Remind you of anybody?

His mark goes on the forehead and the right hand. The red maga hat, and the roman salute. I know I'm doing a paradoelia here, but surely I'm not the only one seeing this shape in the inkblots?

In times like these, I keep coming back to Revelations, and its message that even though things will get really bad, there is always hope, and God's love wins out in the end.

So. The christian fascists are not doing Christianity. They are not following Christ's agenda, which is one of universal love, mercy, and redemption. So, what are they doing, and whose agenda are they serving?

I think you see where this argument is going.

I have not discussed Satan much yet, because while I'm cogniscent of Satan's influence, my faith focusses on Christ; on mercy and redemption and fundamentally goodness rather than evil. But discussing satan becomes pertinent.

Satan is not simply a red guy with a goatee scheming to take over the world like Bible-Skeletor. Indeed, satan is not really a 'guy' at all; it's a tendency. It's the urge to sin, the temptation to not be your best self, or to be your worst self. Every time somebody pisses you off and you have that little spiteful urge to fuck them over? That idea is satan. Every time you want to take something for yourself when somebody else needs it more? Satan.

It is, I think, useful to have a concept of satan that you can personify, so you can (internally) argue against those urges.

Anyway. God loves us universally and absolutely, and wants us to flourish and prosper and do right by each other. Not doing that is Sin. So, here are some things that are sins:

the pursuit of material wealth and power at others expense (see; camels and needles, the meek and their inheritence, etc).

the defining of outgroups against whom cruelty is acceptably or encouraged.

the belief that some people are lesser; less deserving of God's grace and mercy, and so your own kindness too.

raising worldly human powers - states, laws, militaries, flags - into idols.

the - as established - blasphemous perversion of God's will towards evil ends.

These are pretty central patterns we see over and over again among the christian fascists.

They see the outgroup (queers, sluts, immigrants, muslims, people who get abortions, jews, leftists, and so on and so on) as lesser, as deserving of punishment, and they embrace the thought that God will punish them with eternal hell. (See that time pope franky said he hoped Hell was empty, and a lot of these people were furiously angry at the thought.)

They think 'prosperity gospel' isn't a blasphemous oxymoron.

They treat human authorities - cops, armies, nations - with reverence. They fucking love flags, they get extremely patriotic.

They take their hunger for power and their hatred, and they wrap it in the bible - they take God's name in vain - and sully holy things with their evil.

Plus, if we scroll back up to my tangent about the antichrist, there's a pretty good contender for the role currently, and they've embraced him whole-heartedly.

So, their worldview promotes sin.

And they are obsessed with the Devil.

But they don't see it as something they must struggle with; after all, they tend to reject the idea of salvation through works, and claim their saved because they're saved. According to them, rather than doing Christ's work making them christian, because they claim to be christian whatever they do - no matter how evil - retroactively becomes Christ's work. The things they do are good because it's them doing them, and the exact same things done by their enemies would be evil.

So they ignore that little satan-urge in their head, and displace it. They see Satan in everything else, in the outside world, in everything that isn't christian fascism. And then they do Satan's work, by seeking to punish the people they project this satan onto.

What does Satan want? He wants you to hate, he wants you to hurt others, and to profit at their expense. And their religion teaches them to hate and punish others and profit.

They serve satan. And they do it in the name of faith. They are clearly worshipping. So, who do they worship? They worship the one their actions serve.

That is to arrive at the thesis statement of this whole essay, and something I sincerely and wholeheartedly believe, in a literal sense:

the right-wing evangelical Christian mainstream worships and serves Satan.

And then what? I will confess, I am as fallible as any other human. These people - due to their hatred - hurt me and people I love. I am angry at them. I am incandescently angry at the things they do. There is a slippery slope leading from righteous indignation to hatred, and I am struggling emotionally to stay at the top of the slope, and not become actively hateful.

But rationally, how I want to feel? What my better self feels? I feel pity. Hell isn't a place with lots of bats and fire, it's seperation from God's love, and - even if they don't realise it - they turn away from God, and they suffer, and their spread their suffering. They are profoundly spiritually sick, and I want them to get better. I want them to fucking stop. I want them to step out of the dark place they've gone to and return to God's side, and to repent, atone for their actions, and find the same Mercy I want for everybody.

It's fucking hard to look at somebody who viscerally hates me for existing, and want them to recieve salvation, but I try.

I don't know how to fix them or save them. They don't want to be saved. They think our attempts to reach out to them are corruption. They think mercy is weakness and pity tempts you.

They warn each other not to give in to the sin of empathy. It's fucking heartbreaking.

[embbarnes]

giggling and kicking my feet 💕 I loved how this was written, such a fluffy and sweet fic! I don't see very many that are majorly fluffy like this, and it's always so sweet to read!

Ofc my thoughts as I read below the cut ~ I got a little thirsty at the end LMAO

Of all the ways you had been hoping to spend the last few hours of Valentine’s Day, over 30,000 feet in the air next to a snoring man who has never heard of deodorant was at the bottom of your list.

I literally hate flying for this specific reason. I'd buy an entire aisle to avoid this. I don't like being on planes in general, but the people and dealing with the public when everyone is already cranky and irritable is not fun.

Today is your first Valentine’s Day as a couple, and instead of spending it with him, you’re spending it on a commercial flight with dozens of strangers. You can’t help but wonder how many of them are missing their significant other, too.

You know that's true. I've flown around holidays and had flights cancelled, and I wondered how many people would be missing Christmas with their families because of the flight. It's a better perspective to have, instead of just focusing on the negatives, realizing other people are in the same boat you are.

If you’d had it your way, you would have woken up to his face this morning. The two of you would have slept in as late as you desired, and had a slow, lazy morning before cooking him brunch. Waffles, sausage and bacon, scrambled eggs with extra cheese and hot sauce – all of his favorites. You would have taken a stroll through the park before stopping at the bakery that you frequent for doughnuts and coffee, and maybe visited the botanical gardens before your dinner reservations this evening.

Stop this is literally the most perfect day 😭

Valentine’s Day aside, you simply miss him. You’ve been missing him since the moment you left for Nebraska, and you’re more than ready to be back in his arms. This is not the first time you’ve been apart due to work related trips, but this is by far the longest – a whopping seven days.

Nebraska 😭 I will never go back.

You miss the way he wants to keep at least one hand on you throughout the night, the way he talks to Alpine as if she will actually respond, and the way that he hums without even noticing that he’s doing it. All of the seemingly little things that you don’t think much of on a day to day basis, but when you’re apart, make you miss him all the more.

Alpineeee my shaylaaaa 😭💕

Plus, if he had picked you up, it would have ruined your plan to surprise him by stopping by his favorite pizza parlor down the block from your apartment on your way home. Sal’s Pizzeria is always open until midnight, and every year they run specials the entire week of Valentine’s Day on heart-shaped pizzas.

My hometown had a Sal's that just shut down, that's insane. But some places here have heart-shaped pizzas around valentines! I've never had one, but I want to try to this year!

At first, you assume that Bucky is already asleep. But as you walk down the short hallway, you realize there’s soft music playing from somewhere in the apartment. You don't think much of it, since you know that Bucky prefers playing music as opposed to the television for background noise.

What are you up to buck buck...

You stop dead in your tracks when you step into the kitchen. Dozens of tea light candles illuminate the room, placed strategically on the island in the middle of the room. And on the countertops, and the shelves – basically any flat surface twinkles with the delicate flames. You stand frozen as a statue with your mouth agape as you take in the scene before you. In addition to the candles, there’s a spread of food across the island. Plates of delicious smelling pasta, small bowls of soup and glasses of red wine. Tied to the backs of the barstools are red and pink heart-shaped balloons. It looks straight out of a romance movie.

This would make me cry fr. He is so sweet omg.

“Pizza pairs well with pasta, I think,” Bucky's voice breaks you out of your trance. “Can never have too many carbs.” Your gaze snaps over to where he emerges from the den. He wears a bashful smile, and even in the low glow of the candlelight, you can see the faint hint of blush blooming across the apples of his cheeks. He has his hands behind his back, as if trying to conceal something from you. “You did all of this?” You ask lamely. Your voice is barely a whisper and contains a noticeable quiver. “For me?” You can’t wrap your brain around it. No one has ever done anything quite like this for you. All of your ex boyfriends always shrugged off Valentine’s Day, leaving you feeling lucky if you got so much as a card. You’d long ago learned not to expect much of anything. Definitely not anything as intimate and thoughtful as this.

Crying omg. This entire bit is absolutely precious. I love the dynamic and his demeanor sm.

“Who else would it be for? Alpine?” He teases, extending the jar to you. You plop the box onto the counter so that your hands are free to accept the flowers. Upon closer inspection, you realize the bouquet of flowers are not real flowers. Well, yes and no – they’re wildflowers, made of out Legos. You can’t help but giggle, remembering how you had mentioned how cute you think the Lego set is when you saw it while buying some groceries at Target a few weeks ago. You giggle even harder when you picture Bucky assembling all of the tiny pieces of the bouquet with his large, vibranium fingers.

I'm tryinggg to not reblog the entire fic again but it's so hard to contain my thoughts! It's just so thoughtful and special, not plainly and mindlessly picked like roses would be. Which those are fine too, of course, but I like more personalized gifts, ones with thought and meaning behind them like this.

“All I got you is a lousy heart-shaped meat lovers pizza,” you sniffle against his t-shirt and you feel his chest vibrate with laughter. You know that you have the reasonable excuse of being on an assignment in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere Nebraska for the last week, but you still feel bad. “Hey,” he murmurs, using his index finger to tilt your face to look up at him. He grins down at you for a moment before tenderly pressing his lips against yours. You melt into him right away, having missed the feeling of his lips on yours in the week that you’ve been apart. His hands travel to your lower back, pulling you flush against him. Your own hands cradle his face, your thumbs caressing the light dusting of stubble that adorns his cheeks. You can already feel the outline of an erection forming through the thin material of his pajama pants when he pulls away, much to your disappointment. “I love meat lovers pizza,” he assures you with a smirk. “And I love you. The best present you could give me is coming home to me.”

I got something else for you too - AHEM. I want to kiss him so bad, it's not even funny. The gentleness, how he presses his lips against the reader is sooo good. I can feel how tender he is. And y'know...I can only imagine how his tent feels too~

You eat together in the glow of the candlelight, with soft music playing in the background and heavy rain beating down against the windows of your apartment. You talk about everything from the details of your mission to what he did while you were away. The food is delicious, the wine he picked out pairs perfectly, it’s cozy and peaceful and romantic – and you realize that you’re enjoying this so much more than you ever would have enjoyed an upscale steakhouse in downtown Brooklyn.

I love how domestic this feels. Something as simple as sharing a meal and talking, but it's so hard to imagine and see Bucky in a calm, loving setting with his life and whatnot. I always really like it when it's included in fics because it's what he deserves.

He opens the shower door, a cheeky grin spreading across his face as soon as his eyes trail up and down your body. The way he looks at you never fails to make you feel like he’s seeing you naked for the very first time, every time. His hands immediately come to rest on your hips, easing you back against the cool tiling of the shower wall. “God, I missed you,” he sighs as he massages his fingers into the meat of your hips. The contrast of his warm flesh hand and cold vibranium hand on your waist has you arching into his touch.

God you really know how to set a scene. You write things out so well, I can vividly see this happening and I want it 😭

He nudges your legs apart with his knee, inserting one of his large thighs in-between your own. You sink your bare pussy onto the expanse of his muscular thigh, dragging your center across him for friction. He kisses you until you’re breathless, and only pulls away to instead latch his mouth over one of your nipples. He rolls it between his lips and tongue, using his hold on your waist to help move you up and down his thigh. He alternates between each nipple, kissing and sucking on each until they’re pert and pebbled.

YEAH SO, EATING GOOD HERE

He presses a final kiss to the side of your neck before pulling away and smirking down at you. He reaches over to one of the shelves in the shower, grabbing a loofah and your bottle of body wash.

I always forget loofah is spelled that way and it catches me off guard anytime I see the word written out 😂

“I’ll have you know that I showered before you got home,” he says as he squirts a dollop of the gel onto the sponge. “I’m just here for your entertainment – and your convenience, of course. Now turn around.”

He's so cheeky I love it

“You’re really going to tease me like that? On Valentine’s Day, of all days?” “Pretty sure it’s after midnight now,” he quips with a smirk.

Still being a brat but I love him for it

You turn so that you’re out of the direct line of the water, and lower yourself to the shower floor. His cock bobs inches in front of your face. You grasp him in your hand, languidly stroking his length as you stare up at him. “Then I guess you’re lucky that I missed you so much.” He opens his mouth to retort, but snaps it shut with a sharp intake of breath when you wrap your lips around his tip. You swirl your tongue around him, lapping up the beads of pearlescent white that had gathered around his slit. You begin to bob your head, taking more and more of him into your mouth until he hits the back of your throat.

That thing is gonna imprint itself in my throat istg.

Above you, he throws his head back and hisses at the sensation. His metal hand cradles the back of your head, guiding your movements. You gag at the overwhelming fullness, pulling away from him for air. You ease him back into your mouth, setting a steady pace. He rocks his hips forward, meeting your movements with his own. In one hand, you cup his balls, gently massaging the sack. With your free hand, you attempt to relieve the growing ache between your own thighs by rubbing quick circles over your clit. The thrusts of his hips start to grow erratic, and you feel him twitch against your tongue when he suddenly pulls away from you.

This is so hot but I also love his he cups her head like that. I get tired of the grabbing and jerking you around I see constantly. This is much better and sweeter, and I love it.

He wastes no more time, diving into your pussy. His tongue swirls over your clit as he brings one long, metal finger to tease your hole. He nudges it inside as his lips suction around the sensitive bundle of nerves at the top of your folds. Your body goes relaxed, your back sliding down the wet tiling of the shower wall. Bucky helps support you from down below as he sinks his vibranium digit deeper inside you. The coil in your lower belly tightens quickly, pent up from a whole week without his touch. He can always tell when you’re close by the little noises that you make and the way that you tug on the short brown locks of his hair with your fingers. He groans as he licks a thick strip up your slit, sending you over the edge.

Good GOD, girl. I know that metal hand feels soo good up there. His tongue movements and focus are perfect. I love the detail that he knows when she's close, it shows their bond and how tight it is by how familiar Bucky is with her.

Alpine is snoring softly at the foot of your king sized bed, completely oblivious to the fact that you’re even home. Everything is exactly as you left it, from the stack of half finished books on your nightstand to the orange Himalayan salt rock lamp that hasn’t been turned off a single time since the two of you moved into the apartment together. The comfort and familiarity of everything makes you feel all the more grateful to be back home.

Again, another thing I love that you add. These little details that paint the scene are wonderful and it makes the fic feel warm.

“Catch!” He warns before gently tossing it across the bed to you. You catch it, a smile blooming across your face as you sooth your thumb over the velvet material encasing the small box. He walks over to your side of the bed to stand beside you. You raise the lid to box, revealing a dainty gold chain with a capital letter B dangling in the center. You think it’s perfect. It’s isn’t overly ostentatious – it’s the perfect size, and so very you. “Do you like it?” Bucky asks, a hint of nervousness in his voice. “I love it,” you assure him, overwhelmed by how sweet and thoughtful he is. “Help me put it on?”

I want one RN.

“Thank you, baby,” you whisper as you raise up on your feet to press your lips to his. The light flavor of your slick lingers on his lips, sending a fresh wave of arousal through your gut. “So much.” “Of course,” he murmurs against your mouth. “Now lay down. Wanna see how it looks on ya without the towel.”

Move aside...I got this one 😈

Fr such a beautiful, fluffy fic. I loved this one, perfectly soft and tender while being hot with the smutty scenes. Still so, so Bucky. You characterize him so perfectly I am addicted to your writing. Descriptions are always perfect, you add all those little details that I adore, and you know just how to make words feel like home. 💕💕

all's well that ends well to end up with you

bucky barnes x reader

summary: bucky isn't going to let an extended mission, a severe thunderstorm, and a delayed flight ruin your first valentine's day together.

word count: 3.8k

warnings/tags: SMUT, 18+ only mdni, oral (m&f receiving), fingering, nipple play, reader is afab, established relationship, no use of y/n, reader is described as being shorter than bucky, fluffy as hell, sweet domesticity

wrote this for my bb @embbarnes 💕 happy (very early) valentine's day, everyone!

Of all the ways you had been hoping to spend the last few hours of Valentine’s Day, over 30,000 feet in the air next to a snoring man who has never heard of deodorant was at the bottom of your list.

You should have seen it coming from the moment that your two day mission was extended to a three day mission, but you naively held out hope that you’d be able to make it back home in time to salvage the second half of the day.

Getting back early enough to keep the seven o’clock dinner reservations that you’d made for a new, upscale steakhouse in Brooklyn would have been possible if a last minute thunderstorm hadn’t delayed your flight back to New York.

Now it’s already half past seven, and you’ll be lucky if you make it back home before midnight.

Truthfully, you don’t care about the dinner reservations. Sure, you’d heard great things about the food and you had been excited to go, but you could easily reschedule the reservations for another time. The only thing that you were truly bummed about was not getting to spend the day with Bucky.

Today is your first Valentine’s Day as a couple, and instead of spending it with him, you’re spending it on a commercial flight with dozens of strangers. You can’t help but wonder how many of them are missing their significant other, too.

If you’d had it your way, you would have woken up to his face this morning. The two of you would have slept in as late as you desired, and had a slow, lazy morning before cooking him brunch. Waffles, sausage and bacon, scrambled eggs with extra cheese and hot sauce – all of his favorites. You would have taken a stroll through the park before stopping at the bakery that you frequent for doughnuts and coffee, and maybe visited the botanical gardens before your dinner reservations this evening.

Bucky had assured you that it wasn’t a big deal and that the two of you would make up for it when you were back home. He patiently reminded you that life doesn’t take holidays and special occasions into consideration when dishing out things such as extended work trips and inclement weather conditions.

Valentine’s Day aside, you simply miss him. You’ve been missing him since the moment you left for Nebraska, and you’re more than ready to be back in his arms. This is not the first time you’ve been apart due to work related trips, but this is by far the longest – a whopping seven days.

You miss the way he wants to keep at least one hand on you throughout the night, the way he talks to Alpine as if she will actually respond, and the way that he hums without even noticing that he’s doing it. All of the seemingly little things that you don’t think much of on a day to day basis, but when you’re apart, make you miss him all the more.

By the time your flight lands in New York and you catch an Uber back to your apartment, it’s nearly eleven o’clock. Bucky, of course, had offered to pick you up from the airport, but you had insisted that you were okay with getting an Uber, not wanting him to get out so late at night in the heavy rain.

Plus, if he had picked you up, it would have ruined your plan to surprise him by stopping by his favorite pizza parlor down the block from your apartment on your way home. Sal’s Pizzeria is always open until midnight, and every year they run specials the entire week of Valentine’s Day on heart-shaped pizzas.

Knowing Bucky, he’s likely been living off of instant Ramen since you left for your trip, so you figure he’ll be ecstatic over a late night pizza. Not to mention, you’re famished yourself – all you’ve eaten since lunch being the pack of Biscoff cookies you’d been given on the plane.

Lugging your suitcase, a backpack, and the large pizza box, you fumble with your keys before unlocking the door and stepping inside.

At first, you assume that Bucky is already asleep. But as you walk down the short hallway, you realize there’s soft music playing from somewhere in the apartment. You don't think much of it, since you know that Bucky prefers playing music as opposed to the television for background noise.

It’s almost completely dark, minus low orange lighting that trickles into the hallway from the kitchen.

“I’m home, baby,” you call softly as you approach the kitchen’s entryway. “I know it’s late, but I brought you some pizza, if you're hun—”

You stop dead in your tracks when you step into the kitchen. Dozens of tea light candles illuminate the room, placed strategically on the island in the middle of the room. And on the countertops, and the shelves – basically any flat surface twinkles with the delicate flames.

You stand frozen as a statue with your mouth agape as you take in the scene before you. In addition to the candles, there’s a spread of food across the island. Plates of delicious smelling pasta, small bowls of soup and glasses of red wine. Tied to the backs of the barstools are red and pink heart-shaped balloons.

It looks straight out of a romance movie.

“Pizza pairs well with pasta, I think,” Bucky's voice breaks you out of your trance. “Can never have too many carbs.”

Your gaze snaps over to where he emerges from the den. He wears a bashful smile, and even in the low glow of the candlelight, you can see the faint hint of blush blooming across the apples of his cheeks. He has his hands behind his back, as if trying to conceal something from you.

“You did all of this?” You ask lamely. Your voice is barely a whisper and contains a noticeable quiver. “For me?”

You can’t wrap your brain around it. No one has ever done anything quite like this for you. All of your ex boyfriends always shrugged off Valentine’s Day, leaving you feeling lucky if you got so much as a card. You’d long ago learned not to expect much of anything. Definitely not anything as intimate and thoughtful as this.

“Of course for you,” he murmurs with a low chuckle. He saunters over to where you’re still standing with the pizza box clutched in your hands, and pulls what appears to be a bouquet of flowers in a large mason jar out from behind his back.

“Who else would it be for? Alpine?” He teases, extending the jar to you. You plop the box onto the counter so that your hands are free to accept the flowers.

Upon closer inspection, you realize the bouquet of flowers are not real flowers.

Well, yes and no – they’re wildflowers, made of out Legos. You can’t help but giggle, remembering how you had mentioned how cute you think the Lego set is when you saw it while buying some groceries at Target a few weeks ago. You giggle even harder when you picture Bucky assembling all of the tiny pieces of the bouquet with his large, vibranium fingers.

Your eyes begin to well with tears that threaten to spill over. You quickly blink them back, not wanting to show just how emotional the ornate, colorful arrangement of plastic flowers is making you.

Not just the bouquet – all of it. The food and the wine, the balloons, the candles, the forties music playing lowly from the record player in the living room – the sheer amount of time and attention that he put into creating such a romantic display, and all from the comfort of your home.

“They’re perfect,” you murmur, wiping away a stray tear with sleeve of your sweater. You place the mason jar of the plastic flowers in the midst of the spread of food in front of you, making the scene complete.

“It’s all perfect.” He opens his arms to you, and you happily melt into his embrace. He smells of his familiar earthy cologne, and you can’t help but inhale deeply, relishing in the comfort of his scent and warmth.

Even if you’d come home to him passed out in bed, you would’ve been ecstatic to just crawl under the covers beside him. All of this is more than you ever would have hoped for.

“All I got you is a lousy heart-shaped meat lovers pizza,” you sniffle against his t-shirt and you feel his chest vibrate with laughter. You know that you have the reasonable excuse of being on an assignment in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere Nebraska for the last week, but you still feel bad.

“Hey,” he murmurs, using his index finger to tilt your face to look up at him. He grins down at you for a moment before tenderly pressing his lips against yours. You melt into him right away, having missed the feeling of his lips on yours in the week that you’ve been apart.

His hands travel to your lower back, pulling you flush against him. Your own hands cradle his face, your thumbs caressing the light dusting of stubble that adorns his cheeks. You can already feel the outline of an erection forming through the thin material of his pajama pants when he pulls away, much to your disappointment.

“I love meat lovers pizza,” he assures you with a smirk. “And I love you. The best present you could give me is coming home to me.”

“Still. I’m going to make it up to you,” you promise with a feather light kiss to his lips. “I promise. First thing tomorrow, I’m going to—”

You’re cut off by a low rumbling noise that sounds from between your bodies – a reminder that you haven’t eaten a substantial meal in twelve hours now. You glance over to the plates of food on the island beside you, inhaling the delicious aroma of the dishes.

“I made an educated guess that you’d be hungry,” Bucky chuckles. He reluctantly drops his hold on your waist and moves to pull the barstool out for you. You hop up, taking your seat in front of a heaping plate of pasta and a bowl of French onion soup. Your stomach growls again at the sight.

“Did you make all of this?” You ask, unable to hide the surprise in your voice. It’s not that Bucky is a bad cook – he has a few go-to meals that are always excellent, but he normally doesn’t stray too far out of his comfort zone.

“I did not,” he admits with a sigh. He takes a seat directly across from you. “I ordered takeout from the bistro down the street before they closed earlier. Heated it all back up when you texted me that you were almost home.”

“Well, it’s fucking delicious,” you mumble through a mouthful of the creamy pasta.

You eat together in the glow of the candlelight, with soft music playing in the background and heavy rain beating down against the windows of your apartment. You talk about everything from the details of your mission to what he did while you were away. The food is delicious, the wine he picked out pairs perfectly, it’s cozy and peaceful and romantic – and you realize that you’re enjoying this so much more than you ever would have enjoyed an upscale steakhouse in downtown Brooklyn.

You both end up being too full of pasta and soup to eat any of the pizza that you’d brought home, but you’re happy that you’ve got a whole pizza to look forward to having for lunch tomorrow.

“Thank you, baby,” you tell him after swallowing the last sip of your wine. “For all of this. It was more than I could’ve hoped for today.”

He reaches across the counter, grabbing your hand in his own and bringing it to his lips. “Of course,” he murmurs against your skin, eliciting goosebumps down your arm. “As much as I wish we could’ve spent the day together, I still wanted to make the last hour of it as special as possible.”

He stands, releasing your hand as he begins to collect the empty plates and glasses. “You go on and get ready for bed, yeah? I’ll clean up in here.”

“Nonsense. It's almost midnight. These dishes can wait until the morning. Just stick them in the sink and come shower with me.”

You don’t even care if the whole apartment still smells of garlic and French onion soup in the morning – you’ve been showering and sleeping without him for the last week, and it’s still technically Valentine’s Day, so you’ll allow the dirty dishes to sit for the next eight hours.

To your pleasant surprise, he needs no further convincing. He piles the dirty dishes into the kitchen sink and puts the uneaten pizza in the fridge while you get the shower water up to temperature. By the time his pajamas fall to the bathroom floor, you’re already standing under the hot stream of water.

He opens the shower door, a cheeky grin spreading across his face as soon as his eyes trail up and down your body. The way he looks at you never fails to make you feel like he’s seeing you naked for the very first time, every time.

His hands immediately come to rest on your hips, easing you back against the cool tiling of the shower wall. “God, I missed you,” he sighs as he massages his fingers into the meat of your hips. The contrast of his warm flesh hand and cold vibranium hand on your waist has you arching into his touch.

“I can tell,” you giggle, pulling his face down to yours by the back of his neck. His mouth slates over yours, his tongue sweeping along your bottom lip. You part your lips for him right away, more than ready to feel and taste him after all of your time away.

He nudges your legs apart with his knee, inserting one of his large thighs in-between your own. You sink your bare pussy onto the expanse of his muscular thigh, dragging your center across him for friction. He kisses you until you’re breathless, and only pulls away to instead latch his mouth over one of your nipples. He rolls it between his lips and tongue, using his hold on your waist to help move you up and down his thigh. He alternates between each nipple, kissing and sucking on each until they’re pert and pebbled.

His erection gains your attention as it juts against your belly. You reach between your bodies, taking his length in your hand and stroking him with ease, the water from the shower making his skin slick.

You whimper above him, desperate for some release. He laughs, peppering kisses across your breasts and up your neck. You feel him smiling into the column of your throat.

“I think you missed me, too,” he murmurs against your pulse point.

“Maybe,” you admit, your voice etched with impatience. “Why don’t we hurry and get out this shower so I can show you just how much I missed you?”

He presses a final kiss to the side of your neck before pulling away and smirking down at you. He reaches over to one of the shelves in the shower, grabbing a loofah and your bottle of body wash.

“I’ll have you know that I showered before you got home,” he says as he squirts a dollop of the gel onto the sponge. “I’m just here for your entertainment – and your convenience, of course. Now turn around.”

You do as he says, turning around to face the shower wall. You brace yourself against the tiles with your forearms, relaxing as he begins to massage the soap across the tops of your shoulders and down your back.

He takes his time, lazily rubbing the skin of the backs of your thighs before reaching around and doing the same to your stomach and chest. As good as it feels, all you can focus on is the head of his cock nudging against the curve of your ass.

“Bucky.”

The word comes out somewhere between a moan and a warning – a warning that if he doesn’t finish lathering your body in the next two seconds so you can rinse the fuck off, you’re going to take matters into your own hands.

“What is it, baby?” he asks innocently, stepping forward ever so slightly so that his cock inches between the space where your thighs meet your ass.

You turn back to face him, grabbing the loofah out of his hand and tossing it to the opposite end of the shower. The stream of water that beats down against your bodies washes the suds down the drain.

“You’re really going to tease me like that? On Valentine’s Day, of all days?”

“Pretty sure it’s after midnight now,” he quips with a smirk.

You turn so that you’re out of the direct line of the water, and lower yourself to the shower floor. His cock bobs inches in front of your face. You grasp him in your hand, languidly stroking his length as you stare up at him.

“Then I guess you’re lucky that I missed you so much.”

He opens his mouth to retort, but snaps it shut with a sharp intake of breath when you wrap your lips around his tip. You swirl your tongue around him, lapping up the beads of pearlescent white that had gathered around his slit. You begin to bob your head, taking more and more of him into your mouth until he hits the back of your throat.

Above you, he throws his head back and hisses at the sensation. His metal hand cradles the back of your head, guiding your movements. You gag at the overwhelming fullness, pulling away from him for air. You ease him back into your mouth, setting a steady pace. He rocks his hips forward, meeting your movements with his own.

In one hand, you cup his balls, gently massaging the sack. With your free hand, you attempt to relieve the growing ache between your own thighs by rubbing quick circles over your clit. The thrusts of his hips start to grow erratic, and you feel him twitch against your tongue when he suddenly pulls away from you.

“Not gonna cum in your mouth,” he answers when he looks down to see your questioning stare. “Not tonight. Missed you too much.”

He pulls you up by the tops of your arms and eases you back against the shower wall once more. He then takes your place on the floor, kneeling in front of you. He trails kisses along the wet skin of your thighs as he hooks one over his shoulder. He wastes no more time, diving into your pussy. His tongue swirls over your clit as he brings one long, metal finger to tease your hole. He nudges it inside as his lips suction around the sensitive bundle of nerves at the top of your folds.

Your body goes relaxed, your back sliding down the wet tiling of the shower wall. Bucky helps support you from down below as he sinks his vibranium digit deeper inside you.

The coil in your lower belly tightens quickly, pent up from a whole week without his touch. He can always tell when you’re close by the little noises that you make and the way that you tug on the short brown locks of his hair with your fingers.

He groans as he licks a thick strip up your slit, sending you over the edge. Your orgasm washes over you, your cunt clenching around his thick vibranium finger as he sucks your clit until you go still above him.

It's then that it hits you that the water from the shower has started to run cold.

“Come on,” Bucky says, rising as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He turns the faucet off and grabs the two towels that hang over the glass wall of the shower, handing you one before wrapping his around his waist. “Let's get out of here. I’ve got one more gift to give you before we continue this.”

“Another gift? You’ve already done so much. I didn’t even get—”

He gently shushes you with a sly grin, exiting the shower before you can protest any further. You pat your skin dry before securing the towel around your chest and then follow him into your shared bedroom.

Alpine is snoring softly at the foot of your king sized bed, completely oblivious to the fact that you’re even home. Everything is exactly as you left it, from the stack of half finished books on your nightstand to the orange Himalayan salt rock lamp that hasn’t been turned off a single time since the two of you moved into the apartment together. The comfort and familiarity of everything makes you feel all the more grateful to be back home.

You grab a bottle of lotion off of your bedside table and begin lathering it onto the skin of your legs as you watch Bucky rummage through the drawer of his own nightstand. After a moment, he pulls out a small, dark red colored box.

“Catch!” He warns before gently tossing it across the bed to you. You catch it, a smile blooming across your face as you sooth your thumb over the velvet material encasing the small box. He walks over to your side of the bed to stand beside you.

You raise the lid to box, revealing a dainty gold chain with a capital letter B dangling in the center.

You think it’s perfect. It’s isn’t overly ostentatious – it’s the perfect size, and so very you.

“Do you like it?” Bucky asks, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

“I love it,” you assure him, overwhelmed by how sweet and thoughtful he is. “Help me put it on?”

You don’t care that it’s the middle of the night, you want it on you right now.

Bucky takes the box from you, carefully removing the necklace. You turn away from him, letting him drape the delicate chain around your neck. The charm lands just below your clavicle.

“There,” he murmurs as he clasps the chain together. You turn back to face him, letting him see his initial displayed across your chest. “Perfect.”

“Thank you, baby,” you whisper as you raise up on your feet to press your lips to his. The light flavor of your slick lingers on his lips, sending a fresh wave of arousal through your gut. “So much.”

“Of course,” he murmurs against your mouth. “Now lay down. Wanna see how it looks on ya without the towel.”

[arislary]

Home - Jeon Jungkook x f!reader Drabble

Synopsis: I’ve always longed for a home. Dreams filled with constantly running. Traveling and never feeling like I found a place. Somewhere warm and safe. Somewhere that I could feel it. Who would’ve thought home would be with him. 

Pairing: established Jeon Jungkook x f!reader

Genre: fluff, comfort

Warnings: JK is just feeling overwhelmed and wants cuddles with his favorite girl (YOU), heated kisses

WC: 926

A/N: heeyyyyyyy, I told you I don't only write Han Jisung 🤪, not to be too TMI, but your girl is going THROUGH IT. I found this small drabble I wrote from like years ago and I lowkey hate it, but it also brought me some comfort, so now I can only hope it does the same for you. UNEDITED

Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rays of the sun shone just barely passed through the cracks of the closed blinds. I could feel the warm body press closer to me, the hand resting on my stomach moving to bring me flush against said body. A gentle smile spread across my lips as I turned to face the etherial angel behind me. 

Jungkook’s eyes remained closed, lips slightly parted. He was absolutely peaceful. I leaned in to drop a peck on his bare chest before slowly rising from my spot. I moved one of my pillows into the open circle of his arms and had to hold back my laughter as he squeezed the pillow to his chest, curling into a ball. 

One foot on the floor, I rest my hands on our bed, watching as he settled once again. The quietest snore passing through his lips and leaving me almost cooing at him. I crept out of our room, towards the connected bathroom, shutting the door behind me, but leaving a small crack open to avoid any noises.

I made my way to our bathroom, going through my morning routine, being mindful of the sleeping man in the other room. Once finished, I peeked through the door to see if he had awakened, but only found him not further on my side of the bed. Face stuffed into the pillow not in between his arms. A warm smile grew on my face, this man and his sensitive nose, he made it a habit to smell me, citing it was the most comfortable scent he's ever smelled.

Reaching the living room, I began to light the candles and incense I had littering the entire apartment. Opening the curtains to allow the light in. I had only moved in a few months prior, but already felt as though I've placed special touches in our new shared space. I opened the balcony doors, leaning over the railing to watch the city come to life and greet the new day. 

Strong arms, one inked down to his knuckles, wound themselves around my waist, pulling me against the muscular bunny of a man. Jungkook buried his head in the crevice of my neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses as he worked his way up, turning my head to side to get a better angle. Our lips meeting, lazily, just content with pressing into one another.

I turned in his arms, running a hand in his hair, lightly scratching with my nails. My other hand rubbing up and down his back. He bent down, one hand going to the back of my right knee, his arm tightening his hold on my waist as he lifted me up. Wrapping both my legs around him, one of his hands now having moved to my butt. 

Our lips staying slotted together, heads turning to the side to deepen the kiss further. His tongue tracing my bottom lip before delving into my mouth, gliding against my own. 

He walked us back inside, sitting on the couch, staying in our same position. I could feel the slight tension he held in his shoulders, my brows furrowing, trying to rub out any knots he may have. I pulled away from his lips, the smallest string of spit still connecting us that he quickly rid of us by leaning in once more to press another kiss against me. He began to trail kisses further down my next once more, focusing on a specific spot, most likely leaving yet another mark on me.  

“Yeobo…” I began, but stopped unsure if now was the time. He hummed against my neck and I shivered at the sensation. I leaned back, my hands coming to either side of his face. “What is it?”

He closed his eyes, his lips turning down in a frown. The piercing on his lower lip captivated my attention before I moved my focus back to his eyes. I bumped my nose to his and he opened his eyes to return my gaze. 

“Is it… a bad thing if I want to rest?” He looked so small asking me. Almost like he needed permission to relax and rejuvenate. I smiled softly at him and ran a hand through his hair, pressing kisses to his cheeks, jaw, forehead, before finally laying one on his lips. He pulled me closer, his mouth opening to welcome mine. His hand coming up to the back of my head, tangling with my hair, his other at the small of my back, pulling my body as tight to his as it can go. 

Our tongues danced once again, lips becoming even more swollen and red, chasing each other, never wanting to be parted. I pulled back for air and felt myself stop at the look he held in his eyes. I’ve seen it all the time, pure bliss and happiness. 

“Jagi, you can rest for as long as you want and I’ll be right there with you.” He closed his eyes once again, his face going to my neck. “We can treat this as a ‘Treat Ourselves’ Day!” 

His huff of laughter was enough to let me know that we would be spending most of our day in bed and eating whatever we had been recently craving. He lifted his hand, his pinky posed up.

“Stamp it,” A loud ‘Ha’ burst from my lips and I met his pinky with enthusiasm, pressing our thumbs together. 

Looking at him now, I could feel my heart beat faster, confirming that I would do anything to spend the rest of my life with him. This is home, right here, pinkies and thumb still together, love coming in through the eyes. I was home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hope you're all doing okay and checking in with yourselves and your loved ones! Take care of your mental health and it's okay to rest somedays!

Totally voluntary, but if you enjoy my writing and want to support me further, please consider here, I’d greatly appreciate it and thank you so much <3

I want to make it clear that I do not condone plagiarism in any form. All of the work I create is original. Please do not copy or reproduce my work without proper permission or attribution. 

[wasabiburger]

I haven't run into overly narrative answers to questions but one thing I have run into a lot are players who try to surprise me as the GM by not speaking to me out of character. As in, I ask them what they want to do, they give me a vague answer, so I ask them what they are attempting/what they are aiming for so that their vagueness isn't being misunderstood by me and they just tell me "You'll see". Not that I'll definitely react in the way they want and give them what they want necessarily, but it will give me a better idea that we are on the same page about the imaginary situation we are communicating from our shared brainwaves.

I can't tell you how many times I have disappointed a player because they wanted to surprise me with some crazy shit but they don't tell me what they want to do so I have the character or world react in the way that makes sense to me but nullifies whatever weird idea they had planned for me to see which we could have avoided if you just told me what you were attempting or communicated in some way that kept the surprise but made me understand what you were trying to do more.

It's like a ttrpg equivalent of those jokes that need the specific response for the joke to make sense, and if you get the person to respond properly just by chance then great but 90% of the time you have just confused the other person and now you're not happy at the awkward situation you've created.

Another effect of the whole "roleplay v rollplay" nonsense people do is refusing to answer ooc mechanical questions in plain answers, which is some of the most irritating behavior.

"What's your bonus to perception?" "I am quite adept at noticing the unseen".

"Oh that was a big hit, how much hp are you at?" "I am at death's door".

I hate it. Makes me jump through mental hoops to try and figure out what they mean and there's absolutely no reason to do it.

Yeah seriously. Like, what the fuck Derek, the game mechanics are an abstraction: my Cleric might not know what the fuck a hit point is but that's the language I the player have to make sense of the game state right now, we can safely assume that if you give me a straight answer as to how many fucking hit points your elf is missing my Cleric who is specialized in healing spells will know how many healing spells he should use. Shut the fuck up Derek, Christ.

[justsomeidiott]

How i perceive Dream's story

(My art)

-The story starts out how it does within the canon. Dream and Nightmare live under the Tree of Emotion, with Nightmare bullied and abused by the villagers, while Dream is used and manipulated by them to do whatever they want. Both brothers don't talk to the other and it ends with Nightmare eating the Negativity apples and turning Dream to stone.

---500 years pass

The stone starts to crack and Dream breaks free, falling to his knees as he sees his old village over run with monsters made of Negativity. The moment they see him, they approach and after a moment of shock and fear, Dream runs. Eventually Nightmare appears within Dreamtale and is out for his brothers apple, but Dream manages to escape by accidentally opening a portal to a world full of positivity.

Over the past 500 years, Nightmare has damaged the multiverse. Dream can now sense the lack of positive emotion and decides to go around and help, inspire positivity and hope. e does what he can to help, but Nightmare is hunting him though, and he had to jump timelines regularly to avoid him.

This eventually leads to him meeting Ink, the Guardian of the Multiverse. Dream is fascinated by him, his unique emotions and overall attitude and the two decide to work together. Together they meet various worlds and people, but the biggest of note are Core Frisk and Error. Core is an ally, helping shelter those displaced by Nightmare and Error.

But Error? Ink hates him, but Dream respects him. Error is an unfortunate need in the multiverse, without him keeping the balance it could collapse, and Error, while viewing him as another mistake, respects his determination and strength, even enjoying his company, his glitches making him immune to Dream's positivity aura. They eventually have a run in with Nightmare which ends with a stalemate, and Dream learns that Ink doesn't care about protecting lives. This drives a wedge between them, with Dream losing a lot of trust in his "friend."

They keep on however, with Dream eventually running into Blueberry. Blue really reignites that spark in Dream that was being lost by this point and the two become best friends. Dream also learns that this specific timeline of Underswap has already had experience with the multiverse, specifically with the Omega timeline and Error. Blue joins the team, wanting to aid and help people. They now get the name Star Sanses.

[Context] This is the Swap from the Ask Error! Omega timeline. After the unfinished plot of that story, Blueberror would go out and help within the multiverse, fixing up errors and glitches, while giving the Swap living in the Omega Timeline his blessing to take his place within his timeline.

A few years pass of this. Dream, Blue and Ink protecting the multiverse and people in it, fighting Error, Nightmare and any other threats. Dream is a Beacon of positivity throughout this, always trying to help people rather than hurt them, with Blue being his rock in this. They are best friends and deeply care for each other, while Ink is their sort-of friend and leader.

Nightmare adapts however. He sees how strong the Star Sanses are as a unit and decides he needs his own team. He takes a few evil Sanses from various AUs and creates his own team to combat them. The first two are Killer and Dust, two timelines of the original Universe that massacred their worlds. They join without hesitation and Killer becomes Nightmare's 2nd. Horror is next, given a deal where his world gets fed as long as he serves Nightmare. FInally? Cross. Cross lost his timeline and Nightmare promised to help restore it if he helps.

This is where a lot of fanon and HC come in, most of this so far has been based on the canon Dreamtale facts and lore.

The Star Sanses get into a large battle with Nightmare's crew and badly lose, with Core saving Ink and Blue, but Dream is kidnapped by Nightmare. Dream is a prisoner within his brother's castle for a year, Nightmare wants to break Dream before taking his apple and becoming unstoppable. Dream resists, but over time he starts to crack, his view getting more negative and spirit breaking. But there is one light.

Cross.

Cross has positivity within his soul, and Dream calls out to him. He pleads with him to help get him out of here, begs. He can sense Cross hates this, that Cross hates to see someone tortured. His world is gone but he has the chance to do the right thing, to save a life and stop being Nightmare's pawn, and after some consideration? Cross decides to break Dream out, betraying his team to break the Guardian out and the two escape to an AU Nightmare shouldn't be able to enter. Heaventale.

Here they hide away and slowly develop a close bond, that leads into a deep friendship or romance, depends if you want Dream x Cross.

But eventually Killer makes his way into the AU and starts massacring the innoncents, and before Dream and Cross can get to him and stop him, Nightmare has a arrived. The pain and fear being enough for him to enter the AU. Dream and Cross lose, with Heaventale getting utterly massacred. The pair escape and Dream just, loses it. He realizes that he can't just see the good in everyone anymore. He has to put an end to Nightmare, and his team. He asks Cross to train him, to teach him to be a Royal Guard, with Cross happily agreeing.

Ink and Blue on the otherhand are still off protecting the multiverse, but the pair don't really get along anymore. Ink is too focused on having fun, often leaving Blue to save lives and do damage control. The pair haven't seen Dream in a while, Ink believing hes dead, but Blue holds out hope. Eventually they have another skirmish with Nightmare, Ink and Blue taking out a few of his crew, but eventually falling to Night's raw power. Nightmare is about to kill the pair, but falls limp as an arrow flies through his skull.

Being made of Goo, it doesn't kill him, but it BURNS. Nothing like he's ever felt and he spins around to see something he truly didn't expect , while Dream and Blue look in awe. Dream. A new look, a bow in hand and a look of confidence and disgust on his face. Nightmare tries to manipulate him, oh how could he hurt his brother? But mid sentence Dream lets the next arrow fly, telling Nightmare that his brother died when he ate the apples. That he's done trying to save him, letting arrow after arrow fly, tearing Nightmare into bits and making him retreat.

Killer charges him, but Cross is in to his defence and both teams fight. The Star Sanses, Dream, Ink, Blueberry and Cross finally win against Nightmare and his crew, forcing them to retreat or die.

Ink and Blue are both extremely happy to see Dream alive, and with a new look and seemingly a new outlook. He's still a beacon of positivity, hope and goodness, but he won't let that blind him anymore. Nightmare is pure evil, his brother is Gone and they have a responsibility to the multiverse.

It's on.

Das my Dream Sans plot. The ending is idk lmao. Probably Dream saves Nightmare and then idk Nightmare x Ccino or somethin.

Dream and Nightmare by Joku Ink by Comyet Error by LOP Killer by Rahafwabas Horror by Sour-Apple

[eldritch-sand-terror]

i really want to hear more about your headcanons...

Alright, I have no idea where to start so I’ll start with one I’m sorta hesitant to speak on, since a this one in particular is one that really is just me projecting, but I’m gonna post it anyway, just to get it out of the way. There is no way in hell Gaara doesn’t have some kind of Paranoid Disorder, AND I absolutely believe that the three main symptoms are stress or sleep deprived hallucinations, problems with eating, and fears or vulnerability (physically and emotionally).

I'll elaborate more in depth on these some other time (maybe), but for now, this post should suffice.

Starting with the hallucinations. Anyone under enough specific conditions can suddenly have their mind play tricks on them, regardless of any prior condition. Mental illness might make someone more susceptible to hallucinations, but anyone can have them if they have a particularly terrible few months, and Gaara has had quite some particularly terrible years. The stress of believing that there’s always someone out to get you (caused by someone ACTUALLY having been out to get you), combined with sleep deprivation and isolation, make very terrible conditions to be in, and that makes for perfect conditions to start experiencing things that are not happening. The headcanon here is that Gaara experiences primarily auditory hallucinations, with or without influence from Shukaku. Mostly noises that don’t quite come from any particular direction, but the occasional voice does chime in.

Problems trusting food or drink made or handled by others is something that primarily happens in public settings, the fear lies in the possibility that someone put something in there with malicious intentions. I imagine that after years of people trying to kill him, Gaara would most likely develop some skepticism regarding anything anyone ever tries to get him to eat or drink. Headcanon-wise, this is why I think he’s so scrawny and thin. (This specific headcanon also ties in to another one that I have, that being that Gaara knows enough about desert wildlife to be out there eating things that most people don’t like to think about eating.)

Fears of vulnerability in both physical and emotional ways. Physically getting hurt is bad enough, and the risk of being killed is always on the mind, any situation that could be dangerous is to be avoided, and anyone who can bypass whatever security you do have is an immediate threat. Getting hurt emotionally is a whole other beast entirely, you don’t need to know how to wield a weapon to cut out a piece of someone’s soul. Fears, doubts, ideals, hopes, all manner of thoughts filtered before letting them out to anyone, told carefully to a specific few people. There is always a possibility of someone seeing the parts of your soul that you’ve shown, and remembering them only to stab you there later. Knowing anything about Gaara lore should make it clear as to why this would be a thing. It’s a special kind of terrible to be hurt by the people who are supposed to love you.

Anyway, thoughts over. It took me like a day to get my thoughts in order, so I need to zone out and recharge my brain cells. I’ll elaborate more some other time maybe, and get into those nice and horrible specifics later! If you read all this, go drink water, get a snack, and think about an animal you like.

[necarion]

It's a really hard dynamic in general! Right now, Democrats seem to have gotten judged by the amalgamation of arguments from its most extreme members (although many of them are correlated). Defund the police. Prison abolition. Ban all gas cars. Ban gas stoves. Ban meat. Let Palestine destroy Israel. Except that while the mainstream Democrats disavowed all those positions, they seem to have stuck in the public mind. Moderating on a lot of them simply didn't matter. Getting inflation under control didn't matter because the numbers were high.

In contrast, Donald Trump somehow managed to not be judged on the extremely unpopular plans his own staffers had written, because he said "oh I'm not doing that" and that somehow stuck. Republicans didn't get judged particularly hard on what conservative judges were doing, or legislation introduced by, like, Marjorie Taylor Green (although Democrats were judged highly by Ilhan Omar, for example).

So there's a harder dynamic than just "talk about popular things and get your extreme members to shut up about unpopular ones" (although that's hard for Democrats in particular, because they tend to pay attention to stuff more and care about things).

There is this dynamic that Republicans are allowed to just lie about what they're doing or not doing, which makes it a whole lot easier to keep the coalition under control. Trump can credibly say to MTG in private "look, I'm going to say I'm not going to ban abortion, but I'll give you what you want in judges and executive orders". He can say "I'm going to fix inflation" and the press somehow gives him "Trump announces plan to fix inflation" and put "he has given no specifics of plan" on like paragraph 18 or something. In general, Democrats are fucking grilled on every details of policy ideas that almost certainly won't pass (medicare for all, etc.), whereas Republicans get a pass on very specific and detailed plans that include specific mechanisms for action.

Hell, right now basically all the party-switching is people running as Democrats and then switching to Republicans, giving supermajorities or something. (We had one this time who won election as a Democrat and within a week of the election ending, said "I no longer recognize this party" and switched and got a high-ranking position.)

So, yes, it would help a lot of Democrats could get their left wing to just shut up about unpopular stuff and help them win. To attack Republicans solely on their unpopular stuff and promise to do popular stuff themselves. But the fact of the matter is, Democrats are generally not the type who would flat-out lie when asked about something unpopular (and gets grilled much more closely when they try to evade), whereas Republicans can avoid the grilling by just lying about it.

And that's a nearly impossible double-standard to deal with.

People think trump is “authentic” even though he lies all the time—even though many voted for him on the assumption he was lying about the few things he is probably being honest about—because he does not speak in cliches, and he is willing to piss people off. That’s it, that’s all it takes. And frankly even democratic politicians who have a reputation as rebels like Bernie Sanders are pretty dang milquetoast in comparison.

I really feel like a lot of centrist pundits had their brains broken by the sister souljah kerfluffle in the 1992 campaign, which has taken on totemic status in the horse-race-obsessed quarters of American politics, but it is simply objectively inarguable that you do not need to establish your moderate bona fides to win elections anymore (if it ever was—the real thing at work there in 1992 was the way race functions in American politics, which has always been pretty sui generis). And I don’t think it’s that the United States tolerates far right radicals better than they tolerate middle-left social democrats, it’s that the far right have stumbled onto a weirdly effective standard bearer and most of his major political opponents don’t understand why he is effective.

[basically--god]

Imagining Buck as Orpheus and Eddie as Eurydice (specifically the Hadestown version)…

Eddie is miserable where he is, feeling the cold coming on as he is farther from everything he has ever loved. He doesn’t believe that Buck loves him and Chris left him for the worst place he could imagine. He thinks there is nothing left for him in LA, so he leaves for El Paso with a promise of love and a home out there.

Buck is so lost in his worries he avoids thinking about Eddie having left. He loses himself in his work for a while, focussing all of his energy into trying to fix things that aren’t the main issue. Then he’s pulled out of this daze when Bobby asks him about how Eddie leaving has affected him. Bobby tells Buck he’ll be okay, that he’s sure to find another muse somewhere. This wakes Buck up to the fact that there’s not another muse for him out there, and so Bobby gives him the time he needs to go get Eddie.

Buck would do anything for Eddie, and so he shows up to this metaphorical underworld, hoping against hope that he can bring both of his boys back. He tells Eddie he’s in love with him, which Eddie accepts and reciprocates. They try to bring the world back into tune by proposing the idea of returning to LA to Eddie’s parents. After some convincing, Eddie, Buck, and Chris get Eddie’s parents to agree to them going home, as long as they don’t look behind them and mess up like they had before.

Eventually, something happens to Eddie on the job. He dies and leaves Chris and Buck. While Buck tries so hard to stay strong for Chris, he’s a mess. He battles for custody, and battles hard, but he turns around at some point. He looks behind for any glimpse of Eddie he can still catch. This mess up is enough for Eddie’s parents to win the case, and Chris ends up back in El Paso. Suddenly the last piece of Eurydice is gone from Orpheus’s life as though she was never there.

Buck “turns around” because he can’t feel Eddie with him any more. He wants one more glimpse as the last pieces fade away, and it costs him everything he had. Orpheus turns around for many reasons in different stories, but the thing that stays consistent is that he turns around because he loves Eurydice. They would both always turn if it meant seeing their loved one again.

I wish I could make this post have a happy ending, but as the musical says, “it’s a sad song, it’s a sad tale, it’s a tragedy.”

[anticomedygarden]

wolf

-

tw: blood and injury

sequel

-

"Fuck, fuck, motherfucking christ, jesus, fuck," Sirius muttered as he tore off his steaming shirt and pants and tried to ignore the frankly disturbing sounds coming from outside.

The young man had just gotten home after a 16-hour shift at the hospital, and he was not in the fucking mood. As soon as he'd gotten home, he sped through a shower, changed into pajamas, and heated up some leftover soup James had sent with him last weekend, and all he wanted was to eat and watch some mindless TV, and that was exactly what he had been about to do, at least until something made a loud crashing sound outside, and he flinched so badly that he spilled his hot soup all over himself. 

Now his thighs and stomach were burning, his clothes were unwearable, the couch was ruined, there was soup everywhere, and some-animal-or something was probably dying from blunt force trauma in his front yard. Fuck.

He sighed and walked into the laundry room. Doctors didn’t need sleep, right?

Once he found a shirt and old football shorts good enough for his own front yard at 5:30 in the morning on a Wednesday, the strange noises had mostly stopped, and Sirius deemed it safe enough to venture outside. After all, if he didn't, one of his neighbors would, and that could only result in a call from the commonhold.

Walking toward the front door, he wondered idly if the sun was out yet. As an ER doctor who often worked overtime, he missed the sunrise and sunset most days, and his thick curtains rarely let any light in, a so far unsuccessful strategy to combat his insomnia.

The sun was not out. It was dark as fuck. He tripped on a rock.

"I hope you're happy with yourself," he muttered, even as he clearly saw absolutely nothing in the yard. Groaning, he walked around to the side of the house and stopped short.

There was trash everywhere. The garbage bins were completely overturned, old food was strewn across the lawn, and the bin lids had rolled into the neighbor's property. Christ, this would take hours to clean up.

Just as he was setting the lids back on his side of the property line, he heard a thud and a low moan.

With one last mournful look at his front door, Sirius traipsed into the backyard, and got his third shock of the morning.

A massive grey wolf was laying sprawled out in his bushes, blood from a dozen wounds leaking sluggishly into the dirt. Immediately, Sirius snapped into ER mode. 

First, he ran his hand along the inside of the animal’s inner thigh until he found a pulse - slow, but definitely there. Then, he checked quickly for any head, neck, or back injuries, and finding none, carefully lifted the thing in his arms, wincing at the feeling of blood on his bare skin. He stumbled to the back door, staggering under the weight of the easily 200 lb canine. The door swung open easily which meant he forgot to lock it again, but within two minutes, Sirius was setting the wolf down on the cement floor of his basement. 

Next, he ran upstairs and grabbed his emergency medical bag and ran back downstairs, then ran back upstairs when he remembered that wounds on dogs should be cleaned with water, not disinfectant, and got several wet towels. 

When he made it back downstairs, he quickly knelt and started taking stock of the injuries. They all seemed to be surface level claw marks with what looked like large bite marks here and there, nothing deep but several long and still bleeding. 

“All right, bud, I’m gonna start cleaning some of these scratches,” Sirius told the dog, a habit he’d picked from one of his instructors. The wolf didn’t give any sign of awareness, not even when he touched the wet cloth to the biggest scratch on the animal’s back. “Something really got you good, huh, buddy?” 

He continued cleaning the wounds and eventually moved onto bandages until the wolf’s whole abdomen as well as a hind leg were all wrapped up. Sirius would still have to get the animal seen by a vet, but for now, it would do. 

He moved to stand but stopped when the wolf gave an absolutely pitiful whine and turned its snout toward Sirius. It whined again. 

“Hey, buddy,” he whispered, rubbing the animal behind the ears. “Good morning.”

Suddenly, the animal’s eyes opened wide, revealing beautiful amber orbs, and the thing fucking screamed. Horrified, Sirius fell backward, and there was nothing he could do but watch as the wolf writhed on the floor, and, as if that wasn’t enough, its fur started disappearing, pulled back into what looked like golden-tan human skin. The elongated snout retreated to form a normal human nose, the ears shrank, leading into matted light brown curls, and the clawed paws turned into human hands, stained with blood, and then Sirius was looking at a fully grown human man. 

“What the fuck?”

-

word count: 843 @wolfstarmicrofic